#world largest coffee cupping

[angelstrawbabie420]

absolutely horrific day and then i was plagued by nightmares all night i am so fucking tired i could cry.

[socialistexan]

Not only is this just full mask off from Missouri, imagine thinking a cishet white man makes the best cup of coffee? If I'm going into a coffee shop, I want to see a lesbian with the world's largest carabineer that runs that counter like it's the navy and their crew of faithful they/thems.

(I joke, but all the baristas I've had in my life are some level of queer in both sexuality and gender and nearly every cishet white man I've known makes and enjoys horrible coffee).

Also at least they're being honest when they say they don't want diversity initiatives and want "meritocracy" instead, they fully just mean forcing mediocre cishet white men into all positions in the workforce.

[thoughtfulfiction]

Carpe Diem

Author’s Note: We all miss him. So I wrote the most romantic thing I’ve ever written.

A glass of chilled Savasana California Rosé sat in front of you, its diluted pink hue a stark contrast to the sweet yet crisp taste. With a fork in hand you begin to dig into the chicken parmesan with strozzapreti pasta, the chunky tomato sauce brings a rich and comforting smell that shifts your attention from the constant hum of the plane's engine. Eating dinner on a plane like this—silverware instead of plastic cutlery, wine served in real glass—felt oddly surreal. This whole trip did, like you’d stumbled into someone else’s life.

You hadn’t always pictured yourself in this life—a corner office in Berkeley, managing accounts worth millions and rubbing elbows with executives. The internship you’d applied for during your junior year of college was meant to be a stepping stone, a way to pad your resume and have something cool to look back on the future. You hadn’t expected it to become the foundation of a career at a place ranked 7th among the largest biomedical companies by revenue in the world. And here you were sipping rosé in first class on your way to a solo vacation in Greece. Somehow, it had all come together. Your first year making six figures was surreal enough, but now the freedom to spend it on something like this felt even more unbelievable.

The hotel room you would be calling home for the next few days was stretched out like it came straight out of a travel magazine. Everything about it screamed neutral paradise, highlighting the warmth of the space. Plush pillows stacked neatly atop the Temper-Pedic king sized bed that earned the hotel all five of its stars with just one glance. The open layout gave the impression of a private condo, complete with a sleek mini bar and an espresso machine that practically begged to be used. The view from the top floor was breathtaking, floor-to-ceiling glass windows that made way for the vibrant blue skies that allowed the sun to shine at it's greatest capacity, reflecting off the marble from the streets of southern Athens below. And the colors were so dynamic; olive groves, fields of breathtaking wildflowers and citrus trees brought the city to life. Everything reminded you of a landscape painting, it was all so perfect you almost had to pinch yourself to make sure you were really here.

But before your Athens takeover could really commence, you needed a nap. Or three.

Day one passed in a blissful haze of recovery. After a nap that could have doubled as a small coma, you walked by the hotel’s pool, taking in the sparkling water and the soft chatter of other guests lounging under striped umbrellas. Breakfast that morning was a feast fit for royalty, an omelet folded to perfection, fresh fruit that tasted like sunshine, and Moustokouloura, a pastry so rich and sweet it felt like dessert at dawn. The concierge insisted you try Greek coffee, and when the steaming cup arrived at your door, its strong, earthy aroma greeted you like a wake-up call from the gods. You took it to the patio, sipping as you let the city below slowly introduce itself. This is exactly where you're supposed to be. Athens was filled with color, sound, and possibility. This was freedom, pure and simple.

Feeling refreshed on your second morning after some extensive Tik Tok research about things to do in Athens, you walked around the streets of Plaka, by far the most recommended place on the site. And it didn't take long for you to understand why. The neighborhood was a collection of some of the most beautiful brick buildings, an array of restaurants with uniquely placed outdoor seating. The air carried the mingling scents of fresh pita, grilling souvlaki, and blooming jasmine. Laughter and snippets of conversation floated from café tables spilling onto the sidewalks, where diners lingered over plates of mezes and glasses of ouzo. You walked slowly, admiring every square inch of the place like you were going to commit every detail to memory, stumbling upon a store with random trinkets you figured you could take home to your friends and tell them what they were getting themselves into when you all would be in Greece together eventually. Now that you'd experienced this on your own, you couldn't wait to share this experience with them next time. The first person you spotted when you walked in was a tall man, well over six feet, broad shoulders with his back facing the door. He was sexy from the back which meant...no. You shook yourself out of the daydream about what this man could possibly look like because of course men in Greece looked better. That was some sort of law or something based on every movie you'd ever seen. The book shelf at the front of the store caught your eye first, a Greek guide book with common phrases for tourists to know, things that maybe Duolingo wouldn't think of so you grabbed it, scanning the pages for useful information. You tried to focus on the guidebook in your hands, but your nerves betrayed you. An older man’s gaze prickled at your skin, a quiet warning sounding in your mind. Maybe it was nothing, you told yourself. He could just be a curious local. But by the third lap around the shop and you could still feel his eyes in you, the goosebumps on your arms had turned into a full-blown alarm.

The man was closer now, his steps too deliberate to be a coincidence. By the time he spoke, his voice was low and overly familiar, the kind of tone that made your stomach twist. “Hi. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I just... couldn’t help noticing you.”

You swallowed thickly, hoping to keep the conversation short, sweet and with as little personal information exchanged as humanly possible. "Yes. Just visiting," you force out a smile.

"Ah I see, those are pretty," he gestures toward the necklaces in your hand, "pretty necklaces for a pretty lady. Does the pretty lady have a name?"

"Um," you wanted to take a step back, you wanted to walk away, but there was literally no way out of this situation because he was standing in between you and the exit. And for some reason you couldn't think of a fake name off the top of your head to give him. "It's—”

“Oh hey, babe. There you are,” a deep voice interrupted. Your head whipped around, and there he was—broad shoulders, a jawline sharp enough to rival a Greek statue. He had the kind of easy confidence that made your heart skip a beat. Mr. Broad Shoulders slid his arm around you, his touch casual but protective, the warmth of his hand anchoring you in place but doubling your pulse rate for a different reason. “Thought you wanted those charm bracelets, but you disappeared on me.”

“I got distracted.” Your gaze flickered upward, caught on the sun-kissed curl falling across his forehead. He smelled faintly of cinnamon, like he’d been leaning over a freshly lit candle moments before swooping in to save you.

The man takes a look at the two of you and apologizes, walking away without a second glance. You let out a sigh of relief, "thanks for the save, I really didn't know what to do and you just-I really appreciate it."

"No worries, I saw him following you around and thought it was weird. Glad I could help."

You look around to make sure the man from before, spotting him circling the back area with the pasties. "It's...very weird. He didn’t seem like he’d back down that easily."

“I’m Joe, by the way. Since I’m your boyfriend now, that seems like something you should know.”

You laughed, the tension in your chest finally easing. “Yeah, probably. Nice to meet you, Joe. I’m Y/N, your very grateful girlfriend.”

Joe leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper meant just for you. “He’s still watching us. Mind if I sell this a little more?” Without waiting for an answer, he adjusted his grip, his arm tightening around your shoulders like he’d been holding you this way forever. It was seamless, effortless, entirely too convincing. And it left you speechless. All you could do was nod, looking up at him, thinking about how this guy might be the most gorgeous person you've ever seen.

The two of you moved around the store aimlessly, the conversation flowing like you’d known each other for longer than half an hour. Joe explained he’d been in Greece for a few days, taking time to decompress after a grueling work season. “Sometimes, I just need to step away,” he said, his voice carrying a quiet sincerity that struck a chord.

“I get that,” you replied, sharing your own story of navigating your career and this newfound independence. You admitted, almost sheepishly, that sometimes your job didn’t feel like work because it aligned with your passions so perfectly. Joe nodded, his expression softening. “That’s how I feel,” he said. “I mean, this year it really magnified that for me. But sometimes when things don't go the way you hoped or planned, it makes the sacrifices worth more. Like not having as much free time when I'm working. Now, I have endless free time."

There was something magnetic about him—not just the broad shoulders and effortless charm, but the way he seemed so present. Every touch felt intentional, whether it was his hand on your back as you navigated tight spaces or his offer to buy the travel book you’d been thumbing through. You felt a strange sense of familiarity, like you’d seen him somewhere before but couldn’t quite place it.

After carefully deliberating over the trinkets, you settled on matching necklaces for your friends. On your way to the register, a woman approached, her expression warm and animated.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she began, “but I just had to tell you—you two make the most stunning couple. The way you look at each other, it’s just... beautiful. Are you here on an anniversary trip?”

“One year,” Joe answered without hesitation, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he squeezed your hand.

“That’s incredible! Congratulations!” the woman gushed. “Athens is the perfect place to explore as a couple. Do you have plans yet?”

You chimed in, “Not really. We were just going to see where the day takes us.”

The woman nodded enthusiastically and rattled off recommendations, from must-visit landmarks to hidden culinary gems. You took notes on your phone, her suggestions igniting your excitement for the day ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, Joe watched you with a kind of awe. The way your face lit up when you talked about exploring the city tugged at something deep inside him.

He’d spent the last four days locked away in his room, trying to process a season that had been equal parts triumph and heartbreak. It wasn’t just the physical toll of the game—it was the sting of being so close to the pinnacle and falling short. They had gone from 4-8 to 9-8 in what felt like the blink of an eye. The unmet expectations that he had for the team dulled his personal success a bit and he needed to escape after watching other teams prepare for their playoff runs while he cleaned out his locker. He just wanted to recharge and regroup…alone. And here you were, an unexpected spark in the midst of his self-imposed solitude.

When the woman finally bid you goodbye, you hesitated. Should you ask him to join you? The idea of spending the day with a stranger—no matter how kind and gorgeous—felt bold, maybe too bold. But being alone again felt... unbearable. You decided against asking because the thought of rejection was a step above unbearable, if at all possible.

“Well,” you began, your voice faltering slightly, “I guess this is it. I should probably head to my next stop now that I have a to-do list.” You forced a small laugh, keeping your gaze on the floor.

Joe nodded, his smile tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I hope you check off everything on your list.”

He watched you walk away, his chest tightening with each step. He wanted to stop you, to ask you to stay, but the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was stand there, frozen, as the door swung open.

You paused just before stepping outside. Something tugged at you—a feeling that walking away now would be a mistake.

Turning back, you smiled shyly. “I just realized... how am I supposed to experience Athens to its full potential without my boyfriend? On our anniversary trip, no less?”

Joe’s laugh was warm, easy. “No idea. Luckily, I think I know someone who can help.”

“You’re always so helpful. I feel like I won the dating lottery.”

“Can’t disagree,” he teased, his grin widening.

“Alright,” you said, nudging him playfully, “let’s get out of here before your head gets so big it doesn’t fit through the door.”

He walked out with you, allowing you to lead the way to your first stop.

Fairytale Athens looked like an intense mix between the Garden of Eden and Alice in Wonderland. "This is...wow," Joe quips, the vast array of flowers on the ceiling, the pink bar area and the flamingos. So many flamingos.

You could tell by his tight expression that this place isn't really his scene. "We're not here for two hours of afternoon tea or anything," you reassure him with a smile, "Dimitra said that we should grab drinks before walking around Acropolis and that..." you glance at the menu in front of you, "...strawberry ginger lemonade? That might be calling my name." He shakes his head and orders a mint and cucumber lemonade for himself, your lemonade and two waters as you walk around the princess castle, taking as many pictures as possible before Joe walked back over with all four drinks in hand before heading to the incredibly famous tourist attraction.

The package you paid for allowed you to skip the line and head through a side entrance, your tour guide walking you through the history of the ancient sights along with details about the architectural styles, construction techniques, and the symbolism of the monuments. The faint echo of the voices highlighted the rich history of the place you were standing in, the warm air a stark contrast to the cool lemonade in your hand. It seemed like Joe was hanging onto every word as he helped you up some steep ancient steps, his eyes lighting up as the guide drove you over to the museum, going into depth about the Gods.

"This exhibit is Gods, Worship and Magic, one of the most popular sites this year. You guys can walk around and read about the different deities featured." Artemis' exhibit, caught your eye first.

Glancing down at the steel plaque, "goddess of the hunt, devoted to nature. Were you ever a Percy Jackson fan growing up?"

"I was more of a SpongeBob guy. And Star Wars. Definitely had a dinosaur phase that lasted a lot longer than I care to share," he looks up, wondering why in the hell he just told you that. "Do—do you have any humiliating stories you'd like to share with the class?"

He nudged you as you walked alongside him, his hand so dangerously close to yours. You had the biggest urge to reach out and touch him. So you did. Reaching out maybe an inch, you interlocked your pinky with his, making his heart take a leap in his chest, swinging your hands happily towards the Eros exhibit. "The god of—”

"Love and desire," he finishes for you. Just because he wasn’t a Percy Jackson fanatic, doesn’t mean he didn’t pay close attention to the Greek mythology unit in school.

"Look at the hands," you said softly, leaning in closer. "It's like they're...perfectly fit for each other, you know?"

Joe's breath hitched almost imperceptibly. He was standing so close now, the faint scent of mint and cucumber from his lemonade mingling with the earthy air of the exhibit. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and low, "I know what you mean."

Your pinkies were still hooked, but now the little space between you felt electrified. You didn't dare turn to meet his eyes, afraid of what you might see—or what he might see in yours.

"I do have an embarrassing thing to share with the class," you turn to face him and admire the excited look on his face, like what you're about to say is the most important thing in the world. "When I was little I was obsessed with Mama Mia." He gives you a puzzled look. "It's a musical that they turned into a movie. Anyway...it's about a girl that's getting married in a small town in Greece and the views just..." you pause, smiling at the memory, "...changed my life. I've always wanted that magical movie moment feeling. The music, the views, the…”

"Romance?" he finishes softly, a knowing look in his eyes.

You exhale, your cheeks warming as you nod. "Yeah...the romance. It was nice too." You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. "Doesn’t really compare to the real thing, though," you add, barely above a whisper.

The weight of the moment lingers between you. His gaze searches yours, his expression softening like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. Your heart stumbles, and suddenly you feel too seen. You clear your throat, breaking the spell. "I'm, uh, getting kind of hungry. We should grab lunch and head to the next spot."

Joe blinks, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, like he wasn't ready for the shift. "Yeah, sure," he says, his voice gentler now. He watches you for a second longer than you'd expect, then nods. As you walk back to meet the tour guide, Joe finds himself wondering how you’ve managed to unravel him so quickly, leaving him wondering why he already feels so invested in figuring you out.

When you get into the Uber it's like a weight has been lifted off your chest. The museum, which was supposed to be a calm and educational experience was too stuffy and intimate by the end of the visit. In the car, you could have your own space, sitting as close to the door as you could to gather yourself and your thoughts. The driver was nice enough, he had chargers in the car and gave you water bottles, noting that the heat would steadily increase throughout the day. You noticed him stealing glances at Joe in the rearview mirror, his hands tightening on the wheel like he was holding back words. The silence stretched until finally—“I’m sorry, man. I just gotta say…” he finally utters out, "I've been a Bengals fan since I was 8. And I woke up at ungodly hours to watch you play every week. Huge, huge fan."

You laughed at yourself in your seat, the pieces of the puzzle being put together. All of your focus had been on the day, spending every waking minute together and you didn't even fully process why he looked so familiar because the odds of that just sounded too insane to be real. Joe managed a polite smile, his usual ease replaced with a flicker of discomfort. You glanced at him, watching his jaw tighten just slightly as he signed the hat, the faintest blush creeping up his neck. Did he worry you’d see him differently now?

The car stopped near a bustling square lined with food trucks and small cafes. The aroma of grilled meat and spices wafted through the air as you wandered, your eyes drawn to colorful menus. It didn’t take long for the debate to begin.

"Joseph, the mini burgers are definitely better than the souvlaki cones. Be serious."

"No they aren't!" He argues, "you just need to try another one, here."

The souvlaki cone was tender and smoky, the tzatziki tangy and cool against the heat of the pork. But the burger—crispy bacon, the creamy richness of the mayo—felt indulgent, almost sinful. You savored every bite, laughing at Joe’s mock-offended gasp when you declared it the winner. "I hear you and I respect your wrong opinion. But the burger is just better I'm sorry. Do you want another bite?"

He shakes his head slowly, admiring you while you did such a mundane task, silently cursing himself at the fact that he chartered a plane to leave early the next morning. The two of you needed more time together. One day just wasn't going to be enough and the more time he spent with you the more apparent that fact became.

And then you took him on a boat.

It rocked gently, but Joe’s hands gripped the edge of the seat like the waves were threatening to tip them over. His gaze darted toward the horizon, avoiding the churning water below. “You’re really not a boat guy, huh?” you teased, your voice softening when his fingers tightened further. "I'm so sorry I had no idea. But Joe? We're literally in Greece, it's like, treason not to get on a boat here."

"Exactly, so I'm abiding by the law. Doesn't mean I have to enjoy it."

Your hand found his thigh in a quiet attempt to reassure him, and you felt the tension slowly drain from his muscles. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable, but the way his leg leaned ever so slightly into your touch sent a warmth through you that lingered long after. Aegina’s coastline unfolded before you, the white-washed buildings glowing under the sun, expansive trees swaying in the breeze. Joe stepped out first, offering his hand. His grip was firm, steadying you until your feet found the solid ground. You smiled up at him, the unspoken connection between you stronger than ever.

Just as Dimitra had described to you before, the pottery studio was tucked in a quiet corner of the island. Inside, the walls were lined with vibrant pottery, each bowl and vase a testament to countless hands shaping their stories, their glazes gleaming softly in the sunlight as you and Joe grabbed seats toward the back of the room. The instructor's notes were simple, to mold an item of your choice to keep at the end of the session, giving everyone creative freedom to produce a piece of their heart's desire. The clay felt cool to the touch, it's sticky and wet texture balanced wonderfully with the earthy smell that made your experience all the more relaxing and fun. Joe on the other hand, was creating a bowl with a lopsided shape, "it's supposed to look like this," he said firmly, biting back a laugh as you tried (and failed) to keep a straight face.

"Abstract art is still art. I just thought maybe...a quarterback would be better with his hands," you teased.

"Oh yeah? Let's see your work, Picasso." He took a break from his work station to scoot closer to yours, "shit, that actually looks pretty good."

You clean your hands off and move over to his station when he sets his chair back down. "I worked at my uncle's ceramic shop when I was little. It was his passion project so we all had to pitch in as a family and take turns," you helped guide his hand along the bowl, allowing him to smooth over the ridges efficiently evening out some of the misshapen parts. "I'm not saying I’m an expert by any means but I can get you to a point where your bowl can sit up by itself." Your fingers brushed his as you guided his hand, the soft pressure of your touch steadying his movements. Together, the ridges of the bowl began to smooth, though neither of you seemed in a hurry to let go. By the end of the session both bowls were done to the best of your ability, sort of bowl shaped, sort of not and full of personality.

"You’re good at this," Joe says, watching as continued to shape your bowl.

"Good at pottery?" you ask, laughing.

"Good at making things feel...easier," he replies softly. The pottery, he thought to himself, sort of mirrored your time together-unpolished, imperfect, but full of potential and that was both exciting and daunting. After your hands were clean, he grabbed your phone and snapped a picture of the two of you showing off your bowls.

"I was scared when you mentioned doing this at first, but I actually really enjoyed that. This," he gestures to his masterpiece, "is going up somewhere, maybe next to the trophy case at my parent's house. Funny enough, they also live in Athens. Ohio, not Greece," he clarifies.

"You might've missed your true calling," you tell him with a laugh, "here you are wasting your talents on football when the art community needs you."

"Yeah...sure," he laughs, holding onto the bags with your now fully dry bowls in them. "Unfortunately, I don't think I'm ready to quit my day job. Quite frankly, I don't think the art world is ready for me yet. Although working that clay could have been really good wrist rehab."

There it was, that can of worms you'd been trying to navigate. You didn't want to push him to talk about the season or his job if he didn't want to. And now the door was open for you to ask. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to but...was it scary? You know, putting your entire life, all of your free time, your dedication to this one thing that you're obviously really good at. Putting in all that work and then one day it's all just...taken away from you?"

He stops walking for a bit and your breath hitches in your throat, fearing that you've pushed him too far. At the end of the day you were still a stranger to him and maybe that was too personal?

You could tell the question was kind of eating at him, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—”

"No it's fine. I just…yeah. I was terrified for a little bit. No one had been through this before—not at my position, not at this level. I had no blueprint, no one to turn to for advice. It felt like— walking on a tightrope in the dark, hoping I wouldn’t fall.

“The scariest part wasn’t the pain or the rehab," Joe admits. "It was not knowing if I’d still be...me when it was all over."

You tilt your head, searching his face. "You mean, the quarterback?"

He hesitates, then shakes his head. "No. Just...me. Without football, I really didn’t know who that was, how I was going to navigate fame and my private life and everything in between that comes with being me. Whatever that means. And I had an uncomfortably long amount of time to figure it out. Now that the wrist and my health is not an issue anymore and with everything that happened during the season I just felt drained afterwards. Exhausted honestly. And today's been exactly what I needed.”

"Today's been a breath a fresh air for me too. Obviously I didn't have 500 pounds of man laying on top of me but I get it on a smaller scale. Feeling like work is drowning you and nothing you do is good enough so you need to escape. This trip isn’t just a celebration," you confess. "It’s a reminder that I’m more than my deadlines and titles. My boss once called me at 11 p.m. on a Sunday, and I didn’t even blink before picking up. I guess I forgot what it felt like to just...be. I really needed a—”

"Reset," the two of you say at the same time, a comfortable silence washing over you as you continue to walk. "That’s kind of why I came here," you confess. "Not to figure out who I am, but...to remind myself I’m more than my job. More than what other people expect of me."

"Feels like everyone’s always watching, doesn’t it?" Joe says, his voice quieter. "Waiting for you to fail or...prove them right."

"Yeah. But I think we deserve more than that."

Joe sighs, nodding quietly, "We do," Joe says with a small smile. "And one day, when we get it, we’ll look back on this trip as the start of something different." He didn’t say everything he was thinking—some things needed more time to come to the surface.

"Sounds perfect, lead the way."

After you shared the world's greatest chicken gyro, you walked around Aegina a little more, realizing that you had no time to change before dinner and you'd been wearing the same clothes all day long. You walked into a small store, grabbing things off the shelf to try on. Joe was easy, settling for gray cargo pants and a blue striped knit top. Rummaging through clothes and anything that wasn't instant online shopping had become a bit of a chore and you were on a time crunch which made you feel even more rushed. You grabbed three or four dresses and had Joe sit outside the fitting room while you tried the stuff on, only stepping out to show him your favorite.

"What do you think about this?”

The baby blue square neck A-line dress hugged your body like it was created just for you to wear, it's length accentuating your curves in a way that almost had him physically picking his jaw up off the floor. He didn't think you could look any better before but you'd just shattered his expectations. "You look absolutely amazing," he says sincerely, his mouth feeling dry.

You glance at him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Compliments weren’t new, but the way he said it—like it was the only thing in the world that mattered—left you speechless. You managed a soft laugh, pretending to study your reflection. "Thanks." After heading back to the fitting room to change, you grabbed all of your items and headed to the front to pay with Joe standing behind you in line. The cashier rung up your items and was getting ready to bag it when Joe added his clothes to the mix.

"Joe what are you doing? You're not paying for my clothes."

He handed over his card without hesitation, ignoring your protests. "I’ve got this," he said, his voice casual but his eyes portraying something deeper, like this was the most natural thing in the world to him. "Boyfriends are supposed to buy things. I think it’s in the constitution.”

"It's definitely not. And seriously, you don't have to do this."

"I got it, don't worry babe." The word slipped out so effortlessly that for a second, you wondered if you’d misheard him. But the way his eyes flicked to yours, briefly widening, told you everything. He realized it too—and yet, he didn’t take it back.You thanked him the entire walk back to the boat, his soft laugh sending warm and fuzzy feelings in your chest.

You were starting to acknowledge the growing warmth between you two, the way Joe’s presence seemed to make every moment feel right. The idea of saying goodbye felt heavier than it should after just one day, but somehow, it seemed inevitable. The next spot was inside a resort, they allowed you to change your clothes and head upstairs to the rooftop bar to watch the sunset. The drinks and the view had nothing on you, he quickly realized, finding himself unable to tear his eyes away. Everything just made sense today, the museum walk, the easy conversation, the boat ride. He didn't want to leave before but now the mere thought of packing his suitcase tonight made him upset.

"What are you thinking about over there?" Your words snap him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing, just how much I'm going to miss it here. The peace, the incredible sunset..."

You. The word hung in the air for a while before he pushed it down and tried to move on.

"We should head over to there and get closer to the view, you can literally see the entire city from glass railing." You stood up first and grabbed his hand, practically dragging him over there. Luckily there wasn't anyone else in the area. "This is the most insane scenery. I don't get how anyone could get tired of seeing this everyday, I'd never be inside. I feel like we’ve been the physical representation of carpe diem."

He looks at you confused, "what does that even mean?"

"Carpe diem? It’s Latin for 'seize the day.' Basically saying not to focus too much on the future and live in the present to the fullest capacity.”

"I like that," he chuckles.

Long after the sun went down and most of your dishes were cleared from the table, the lingering sweetness of caramel on your lips was all you could think about, a fleeting pleasure that only made the impending goodbye sting even more.

"Joe I have to tell you something," he looks at you as you head over to stand in one of the private lounge areas, giving you his undivided attention. "I saw you this morning in the store. Your back was facing me but I don't know, you caught my eye. And I told myself I wouldn't say anything, I wouldn't go up to you and make small talk because I'm here on a solo vacation to be one with myself and-now I'm really glad that I know you."

A smile forms on the corner of his mouth, "I've been telling myself all day that this isn't real. That I could just let my guard down because in Greece, I don't have to be Joe Burrow. I can just be...Joe. You let me be exactly who I am, nothing more, nothing less. And honestly? This might've been the single greatest day of my life. I've had good ones, really good ones. But today is up there for sure." You hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten until you could feel his arm against yours, his breath soft and warm on your cheek. His eyes dropped to your lips again, this time lingering a moment longer, as if the air between you had thickened. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his breath just a whisper away, as his hand hovered near your cheek. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a spark through you, and for a moment, you thought he might pull you in.

You couldn't allow yourself to go there. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not now, not like this—but the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, made it hard to think clearly. As much as you wanted this, to feel him close, to taste the sweetness of that kiss, the weight of knowing how fleeting it all was crushed down on you. This wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything you were afraid to want, a piece of yourself that you couldn’t let slip away so easily. If you already felt this strongly about him after a day, how were you going to make it through the rest of the vacation without him knowing how his lips tasted and how his strong hands pulled you in close, holding onto you like he'd rather lose everything than let you go. There was no way in the world you'd recover.

"We can't," you whisper, watching him drop his hand that had just been lightly caressing your cheek. "You're gonna leave tomorrow and I'm gonna be thinking about this kiss for a long time. And I can't," your voice trembles. "I don't want you to go, so I can't kiss you. I'm sorry."

"No don't—don't apologize. I get it." He still hadn't taken a step back, biting his lip to keep his emotions in check. "I can walk you back to your hotel? I haven't packed yet and I need to.”

"Sure, yeah that's fine."

The 15 minute walk felt like three seconds. You didn't want him to go. He no longer wanted to leave. "Y/N I—”

You wrapped him up in a bone crushing hug, silently begging him to stay, just for a few more days. His grip on you was just as strong, his heartbeat thumping rapidly against your body. There weren't enough words in the English, or Greek dictionary to describe how much you were going to miss him. To miss this day. "Bye Joe." That was it. That was all you could manage. The moment you let go of him felt like a piece of your heart stayed in his arms. There was no way to explain the ache in your chest as you watched him turn away, the pull to stay stronger than any rational thought.

Going to sleep that night sounded impossible. The day had started out so innocent and special and the adventure and emotional rollercoaster you'd been on during the day made it feel like you'd experienced a series of days all wrapped into one. You set your bags down on the ground when you got to your room, too tired to change out of your clothes and falling asleep on top of the covers as soon as you laid down.

The next morning you checked the time on your phone, it was 8am. Joe had told you yesterday he was leaving at 10. That meek little goodbye wasn't going to cut it. You didn't even have his number. After your teeth were brushed and your clothes were changed, you rushed out of your hotel and got in an Uber, on your way to Joe's resort. The 46 minute ride allowed you to come up with everything you wanted to say, how this was only meant to be for a day but maybe it could be more? Maybe you could come see him in Cincinnati or he could come to Berkeley or someway somehow you could figure out a way to make it work.

You thanked your driver, opting to speed walk into the lobby. The person at the front desk couldn't give you access to the room without a reason, even when you gave them the name Joe used for his reservation. Pulling out your phone, you showed her the picture of you and Joe that he took at the pottery place and she finally believed you.

"I'm sorry ma'am, he actually left this morning a bit earlier than planned. He checked out at 7am to get on the plane."

Your chest tightened as the words settled in—he was gone. Just like that, in the span of a few hours, everything had shifted. The chance to say what was left unsaid, the connection you had just begun to explore, all slipped away before you could even hold onto it.

It felt like a dark cloud loomed over you throughout the rest of the day. The sun, once so warm on your skin, now felt distant and cold. The flowers that had seemed so alive that morning now appeared dull, their colors muted, as though even nature understood the weight on your heart. While you ate lunch, you tried to people watch, although you quickly discovered that there were only couples surrounding you, sharing meals and laughing at each other's jokes which made you miss him even more. The only real bright spot of the day was your flower garden excursion, taking pictures of the newly bloomed bulbs and taking in their fresh scent. As the hours passed, you allowed yourself to breathe a little deeper, letting the moments of regret slip away as you focused on the simple joys of your surroundings. The beauty of the flowers, the calm of the gardens, it all reminded you that there was still peace to be found in this unexpected chapter of your life.

You were just beginning to let go of the weight on your chest, convincing yourself that maybe, just maybe, this was how things were meant to be. But as you laid your phone down beside you, the familiar ping of a message broke the stillness.

It was an DM request on Instagram. The message had two simple words.

Carpe diem.

For a second, your heart skipped, and you couldn’t help but smile. That phrase, so simple and yet so loaded with meaning, sent a wave of warmth through you. It was him. In a way, he had left his mark on you after all, even if he wasn’t here to say the words aloud. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end. And though you didn’t know what tomorrow would bring or if this connection would ever evolve beyond this brief encounter, in that moment, with his words glowing on your screen, you allowed yourself one final thought: Maybe this was only the beginning.

[withwritersblock]

Daylight

~Daylight by Taylor Swift~

Author's Note: requested! I love Nathan Mackinnon Summary: erm friends to strangers to friends again to lovers? Warnings: swearing maybe? Word Count: 5,431 Nathan Mackinnon x fm!reader

It was a huge life decision that she was convinced was going to fail miserably. Moving to the States felt like an awful decision but she was tired of staying in the same place she has lived in her whole life. 

Her newly found ex-boyfriend also had lived there his entire life and it showed. There was never any desire to grow or change. There was no way she wanted to stay in Nova Scotia her whole life. Despite it being one of the most gorgeous places in the world, there was plenty gorgeous places in the States too.

She sent her resume to probably a hundred different places and Denver ended up being the best option. They offered the most travel money and salary. It seemed perfect. Her apartment was only two blocks away from her job and on nice days she was more than willing to walk.

Today, it was April and her apartment was covered in boxes. The movers were able to bring everything into the apartment but after that there was nothing they could do. She was making good money, great money. Some of the best money she’s ever made in her entire life so she might’ve went a little big on the apartment; and a little big on the furniture.

Instead of happily unpacking, she found herself sobbing on the floor after she pulled out a framed photo of herself with her ex. It was something she either accidentally packed our the movers did. She was not sure.

They had been together since they were seventeen and they broke up a decade later. It was a lot of her life that she sometimes wished she could get back. There was times she wished she ended it sooner. Because who waits a decade to even bring up marriage. 

She got out and that’s all that matters. 

Wiping the tears from her face she stood up from the floor and stumbled towards her bathroom, the only room that was semi-unpacked. She decided to shower and get a freshstart on the day. Even though it was well into the afternoon.

After another hour she decided to head down to the coffee shop that was only two buildings over. They were nearly a twenty-four hour place, which is just the coffee shop she needs. 

It was starting to get dark as it was close to six at night, but the sun was setting over the mountains, casting a pink and purple hue to the sky. The sidewalks were suprisingly busy with tourists. It was evident by the way they were taking pictures and speeding down the sidewalks towards their next destination. 

She smiled towards herself as she stepped inside the coffee shop and it wasn’t crowded. Maybe people didn’t have as big of a caffeine addiction like she did. She walked behind the small line towards the counter, three blonde men stood in front of her and she kept her distance. 

She was tuning out their voices as she was listening to the Taylor Swift song playing in the background. After the last one ordered, the three of them erupted into laughter. 

“New contract, Caler, thanks for the coffee,” one of them said as they smacked their hand against his upper back. They all barked out a laugh before the first two wandered towards a table near the center of the shop. 

The man in front of her, Caler apparently, paid for the coffees before he followed his friends. 

The barista smiled towards her, looking somewhat exhausted. She felt a little guilty now that she was there. “Can I get an iced lavender latte to go?” Y/N asked her. She nodded immediately grabbing the largest size clear cup and started writing on it.

“Shut up man,” she heard one of them say from the corner but she chose to try her best to ignore it. She handed her card over to the barista and quickly paid for it, keeping her gaze towards her. “Nate don’t be weird,” she heard again. 

She took her card back and subconsciously glanced towards the three of them. She stopped short, holding her card in the air while she met one of their gazes. A man she hasn’t seen in eleven years.

Well, she’s seen him but not like this. Not face to face or in public. He was much older and had a different smile but it was Nathan. 

She thought Denver was too big to run into him, especially since he was dominating the NHL at the moment.

“Y/N,” he let out barely above a whisper as he crossed around the table, moving quickly towards her. Her eyes widened as she slowly put her card back into her wallet.

“Nathan,” she let out with a soft grin.

“What are you doing in Denver?” he let out excitedly, his hands were interlocked; almost as if he was trying to decide if he should hug her. She slipped her wallet back into her hoodie pocket as she stepped away from the counter. 

Glancing towards the other two boys whom she assumed were his teammates. She was a Canadiens fan since that’s who her parents root for. But she was never obsessed with the sport. Based off of the decor in the coffee shop, she could see from behind Nathan’s head that she should know who they are.

Swallowing hard, “I just moved here for a job,” she explained. His eyes widened as he smiled.

“Where’s Carter?” Nathan asked while whipping his head around to see the two guys staring towards him. He waved his hand at them hoping they would stop. 

Her mouth fell open while she took in a sharp breath, “We broke up a few months ago,” she let out.

He pulled his head back while nodding; crossing his arms over his chest. “That sucks, I’m sorry. You guys were together for a long time,”

She chuckled while tilting her head to the side, “Too long, but it’s all good. Needed a fresh start,” she explained while brushing a piece of hair away from her face. He nodded before pressing his lips together. 

“Denver’s a great place for that,” he mumbled.

The barista called out Cale’s name and the two other guys jumped up from their seats to go grab their drinks. They were all hot coffee in to go cups.

“It is,” she mumbled as she continued to look into his eyes, “H-how’s the season going? You know I don’t really pay much attention-” 

“Still a Habs fan?” Nathan asked as Cale handed him his drink. She smiled and nodded. “Well, we’re heading to the playoffs in a week so we’ll see.” 

“Better than the Habs,” she muttered jokingly. He chuckled as he continued to look into her eyes. “That’s great, I hope it works out for you guys,” 

“Tha-thanks,” he mumbled.

“Nate, we gotta head out,” the other guy said walking up behind them, “Got to get to the arena. Why don’t you get her number and call her after our meeting?” he teased as he pushed past them. Nathan chuckled as watched them walk away before he met her gaze again. 

“That’s Gabe, doesn’t know how to switch off being captain,” he explained. She smiled as she looked into his light eyes again, something in them made her heart flutter. He looks so good.

“I see,” she mumbled as she saw the barista hold out her drink towards her, “Thank you,” she said as she gladly took the drink. Nathan took in a sharp breath as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

“My number’s changed a few times since secondary school,” he explained as he held out an empty contact in his phone. She took a hold of it and added herself to his phone. “Just in case you need some friends in the city, I’ve got a few to spare,” he continued meeting her eye.

“Thanks Nathan, I guess I’ll see you,” she muttered. He nodded before he walked out of the coffee shop. She watched him leave and felt herself overthinking the conversation. Did that really just happen?

“I’m so sorry but how do you know Nathan Mackinnon?” the barista said as she leaned over the counter. Y/N pulled herself out of the small trance she was in and looked towards the dark brown haired girl beside her.

“We grew up together back in Canada. I haven’t seen him since we were sixteen,” Y/N explained, shocked to say the least. The barista smiled widely. 

“Wow, that’s like-so cool,” she said while shaking her head. She turned around and immediately started cleaning something.

Y/N nodded with a hum falling from her lips, she continued to walk out of the coffee shop to head towards her apartment again.

~~~

It had been a few days since she ran into Nathan and they had been texting constantly since Nathan was incredibly busy with the end of the season coming up and their first round in the playoffs against the Predators. 

Her apartment was slowly starting to come together. Majority of her furniture arrived and she convinced the movers to place it exactly where she needed it to be. Even after a handful of “wait can you actually put it on that side, thank you.” She hated being that person but she didn’t have anyone to help her move them.

The thought of asking Nathan to help crossed her mind but it was such a difficult and essential time in his life. They were in Minnesota for the last game of the season and even in the text messages it was obvious that he was nervous. But he was Nathan Mackinnon and he was not supposed to be nervous. 

For the first time by herself, she decided to sit down and watch a hockey game. Her former boyfriend was a huge hockey fan, specifically the Pittsburg Penguins. Because he was such a nice guy he had the multi-broadcast so she could watch the Habs play as well. Whenever they were playing at the same time.

She sat at the center of her new couch and draped a light pink blanket over her lap and she turned on the local Altitude broadcast. She put on her Lehkonen jersey that her father gave her after she said she was moving to Denver. 

He told her that if his two favorite people were moving to Denver at least she should have his favorite player’s jersey. He was joking mostly, but her mother didn’t find it that funny. But she promised that she would wear it every time she watched a game or went to one. Especially since her dad actually was close to heartbroken when he was traded.

The game started and she saw Nathan take the draw. She found herself smiling. She was also excited to watch the game again. She hasn’t been excited to watch the game since she was a kid. The joy of watching it with her dad and bonding with him over it was everything. Except Carter took that away from her. The game was ruined for her because of the rage he would get every time they made a bad play or lost the game.

But she was alone, a glass of rosè in her hand and her dad’s favorite player on her jersey. The apartment was nearly pitch black and the only light was the TV screen. 

The game ended with a difficult loss but she was happy to actually have enjoyed the game. 

All she knew was that the next set of games were going to be hard and she was excited to watch and excited to talk to Nathan about it. The more she thought about him over the last few months, the more she realized how close they used to be.

There was a time in her life where Nathan was always around and they were inseparable. Until he joined Halifax and he became a future star. It wasn’t intentional with how he left, he tried to reach out and be there but his life was going warp speed and hers was slowly moving on. 

She never forgot about him and he clearly hasn’t forgotten about her. She took in a deep breath before she stood up from the couch. Placing her empty glass onto the coffee table before she folded the blanket and draped it over the top of the couch.

Her father started to video call her and she pulled her head back for a moment. Never someone to call this late, let alone call her ever. She answered it and held it ahead of her waiting for him to show up on the screen. He smiled widely as he saw the Habs jersey on her body.

“Were you watching hockey?” he asked. She nodded as her lips curled upward into a small grin.

“I ran into someone,” she muttered. Her dad’s eyes squinted while he furrowed his eyebrows. “Nathan,” she let out simply. He tilted his head to the side for a second before his mouth fell open.

“Our Nate?” he let out. She wasn’t sure if he meant Nova Scotia’s or their little social circle. 

“Yeah, literally two days after I got here. How crazy is that,” she expressed.

“Man, you guys haven’t talks since he joined the Mooseheads, wow,” he let out. Something felt off with his tone, nearly sarcastic.

“Why are you talking like that?” 

“I’m not talking like anything,” he said, pouting his bottom lip slightly.

“Dad,” she nearly scolded.

He took a long dramatic inhale before shutting his eyes, “Nate told his mom about running into you and then she called your mother and we’ve been waiting for you to bring it up to talk about it,” he opened his eyes and glanced away from his phone, most likely her mother.

“I forget how tiny that town is sometimes,” she muttered before she ran her hand across her eyes.

“Are you guys talking?” her mother shouted, it sounded faint through the phone.

“We’ve been texting but he’s busy-you know- being a professional athlete.” she explained while laughing nervously.

~~~

The series against the Predators ended with a sweep for them which led to a long break until the next one for the Avalanche. Which led to Nathan coming over to help finish decorating her apartment. Aka, she went on a late night shopping spree while wine drunk and now her living room is full of boxes once again.

The doorbell rang and she felt her body jolt. She walked towards the door, taking in a deep breath. She pulled the door open and Nathan was standing there holding a bottle of wine. He smiled widely once he met her gaze.

“Hey,” he mumbled. She smiled as she stepped aside letting him into her apartment.

“Hey, you didn’t have to bring anything,” she expressed, referencing the very expensive bottle. He glanced down, smirking. 

“It’s actually not meant to be drunk tonight,” he let out. Meeting her eye, she nodded as she watched him delicately place it down onto the counter. Squinting her eyes suspiciously as she pursed her lips forward. He pressed his lips together as he continued to look into her eye. 

“I know it was a long time ago but I’ve been doing some thinking. The last time we hung out before I started playing for Halifax we talked about what would happen when I joined the NHL. Do you remember?” he asked, a smile toying to his lips. She shook her head as she leaned against the counter. “We talked about what would happen if I get a chance to win the Cup.”

She nodded, “Oh yeah,” she said with a smile.

“We talked about if I win, we’d drink a $500 bottle of wine and celebrate just you and me,” he expressed. She glanced down towards the wine before flickering her eye back towards him. Furrowing her eyebrows slightly, she tilted her head to the side. 

“Every playoff run I’ve thought about that conversation. Even though you were back in Nova Scotia, I still thought about it,” he explained as he tapped his fingers against the countertop. “This was the first season I bought a bottle. I bought it two days before we ran into one another at the coffee shop,”

“Wait, so you bought it before you knew I moved here?” she mumbled.

“If we won the Cup, you were going to be one of the first people I called,” he explained as he smirked towards her. She nodded as she took in sharp breath, “Anyway, let’s get to decorating.” he said switching the subject quickly. She pursed her lips forward as she delicately took a hold of the bottle. Slowly, she delicately ran her thumb across the label, hoping she would get a chance to open it with him.

“I’m looking forward to opening it,” she let out nonchalantly as she put the wine bottle onto a different more secluded counter.

He chuckled nervously as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Gotta win the Cup first,” he mumbled.

“You will, Nathan,” she said with a wide smile. He smirked as he stumbled backwards towards her living room. “I honestly don’t remember what I bought, so this should be fun,” she sat down in front of one of the boxes as he followed in pursuit. Without hesitation, he ripped open the box. He pulled out a picture frame an empty picture frame.

“An empty frame?” he let out while chuckling. She rolled her eyes playfully as she attempted to rip open the box in front of her.

“I told you I was wine drunk,” she defended as she finally ripped open the box. She let out a sudden laugh as the blanket she purchased came into full view. It was a red and white Habs blanket. She pulled it out and held it towards Nathan. His mouth fell open as he giggled.

“You’re going to have to put that away when I come over,” he said while shaking his head.

“Oh, just wait,” she teased while raising her eyebrows. She stood up from the ground and quickly sped walk down the hallway towards her bedroom. After a minute she returned to her living room holding up her Habs jersey against her chest. Nathan looked up towards her giggled. 

“Who is it?” he asked while moving his head back and forth trying to see the number on the side. Spinning it around, she showed the Lehkonen on the back. He clapped his hands together while tilting his head back. 

“Now you’re just rubbing it in my face!” he let out while laughing.

“At least he plays on your team now,” she said as she sat down on the floor again, delicately placing the jersey on the couch directly behind her.

“Fucking great guy,” he let out while raising his eyebrows. 

The rest of the evening was filled with giggling and showing off the ridiculous decor she bought. It nearly reminded her of how they were when they were teenagers. It was as if there wasn’t a decade between the last time they hung out like this. 

It’s been years since the last time she felt so giddy. It was almost impossible to let him leave. They hovered at her door for several minutes before he slipped out of the apartment. Hovering for a long time, lot of intense eye contact. Subtle smirks and lack of distance.

~~~

Tonight was a roller coaster of emotions. It was game five against the St. Louis Blues and Nathan had a hat trick and an assist. It should’ve been more than enough to push the Avs to the third round. Except the Blues tied it late and won it in overtime. 

She watched the game from her couch, despite Nathan telling her she could hang out with the WAGs. She declined because it felt weird to her since she wasn’t a part of the club. She had her Habs blanket wrapped around her shoulders, squeezed tightly to her chest just beneath her chin.

Her gaze shifted towards the bottle on the counter a few feet away. Knowing that they will get to open that bottle this season. The post-game show was playing in the background but she was only half listening as she was scrolling through her Twitter feed. Most of it was about anything but hockey, it was a decent distraction.

Her eyes widened as her phone started to vibrate in her hands, Nathan was calling her. Her lips curled upward as she saw his name, she knew he wasn’t going to be in a great mood but she answered it anyway.

“Hey,” she mumbled.

“Hey, can I see you?” he asked, his voice was grogging and raspy. It was sudden but she hummed unsure of how to reply, she couldn’t tell how he was truly feeling. “Okay, I’ll be over in like ten,” he said before he ended the call. She pulled the phone away from her ear, staring towards it for a moment before she delicately placed it beside her. 

She took a hold of the TV remote and put on New Girl to have in the background. She kept snuggling the blanket in the pitch black apartment, the TV being the only bit of light.

Her phone buzzed beside her and she glanced down to see a text from her dad. She smiled as she lifted her phone to read the message: Give Nate a hug for us, he’s got the next one.

She replied quickly before she turned off her phone and wandered towards her kitchen. She reached into the freezer and pulled out a small pint of ice cream. Quickly, she took a hold of a spoon and began to eat some of the ice cream before Nathan arrived. He was very determined on sticking his diet so he would not be phased by it even if she was eating it in front of him. 

After a few minutes, there was several knocks on the door and she set the pint down onto the counter. She walked towards the door and pulled it open. Nathan stood in the doorway, he looked exhausted. His lips fell into a small pout as he looked into her eyes. She reached her hands around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace.

He loosely wrapped his arms around her waist as he slowly stepped inside gliding her inside. The door shut behind them as he continued to hold her to his chest. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she whispered as she started running her fingers through the ends of his hair for a moment. He pulled away looking into her eyes, as if for the first time.

“I’m just glad you moved here,” he let out as he continued to look into her eye. She furrowed her eyebrows, confusion written all over her features. His lips curled up into a small grin, “It was a tough night but next game we’ll win,” he let out.

“That’s it?” she asked suspiciously.

“We lost, did it suck, absolutely, but there’s next game and we’re winning it. Simple,” he explained before he slowly slipped away from her grasp towards the couch. 

“You used to go silent after games you lost. There was a time you didn’t talk for nearly two days after you lost a regular season game back before the Mooseheads,” she expressed as she quickly reached for her ice cream and walked towards the couch again. He let out a dry laugh before he rubbed his nose.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Y/N, I’ve grown,” he said sarcastically while he took a hold of the Habs blanket and draped it over his lap, “You’re lucky Drouin’s over there,” he muttered as he held it open for her to sit beside him. Delicately, he laid it over her lap. 

Every times the Hab’s were even slightly brought up, he had to have a dig towards the fact that she was a fan, always hinting that she should convert to an Avs fan. Even left her a gift of Lehkonen’s Avs jersey on her doorstep. Said that Lehky’s gonna be sticking around, so you better get an updated jersey.

“It’s good to see you… like that,” she expressed, finding it difficult to get the right words out. 

“I would do the silent thing for a long time in the league. I would just get so mad that it was easier to stay quiet than talk,” he said as he held his hand out towards her. She stared towards him mildly concerned. He stole the spoon from her hand and took barely any ice cream and brought it towards his mouth.

“Did you just-”

“Yup,” he teased before he dropped the spoon back into the pint. She chuckled as she took a much bigger spoonful and brought it towards her own lips. “I’ve gotten a lot better and letting things go,” he continued. He took in a sharp breath, “Letting go most things,” he let out as he met her gaze for only a second before looked back towards the screen.

Swallowing hard, she stared towards his side profile. She was always fond of his nose, despite how crooked it looked since his teenage years, he was elegant. “What haven’t you let go?” she poked.

Looking back towards her, meeting her eye he fought the words he wanted to say. “It’s stupid,” he dropped his gaze towards his lap.

“Say it,” she pressed as she leaned forward, placing the ice cream onto the coffee table. 

“The night we talked about the Cup and the wine bottle or whatever back then, I remember that was the moment I realized I liked you,” he expressed, “I didn’t really realize it fully but that night I felt something for you I never felt before and then we never hung out again. Which was my bad so I-I guess that I never let go of the fact of what would have happen if I told you, I guess,” 

She smiled softly, staring down towards her lap. “What do you think would’ve happened?” she asked, sliding towards him slightly. He tilted his head back against the top of the couch. 

“Honestly, we probably would’ve gotten together and I probably would’ve ruined it,” he ran his fingers through his hair, awkwardly. 

“Why would you say that?” she pressed further turning her body towards him, leaning her head against the top of the couch. He turned his head, meeting her eye.

“Same reason why I stopped reaching out, being away from you would’ve been too hard,” he expressed. She nodded as she continued looking into his eye.

~~~

She was on the couch watching Nathan raise the Cup. He was crying tears of joy with the horrendous scraggly beard on his face. The Stanley Cup champion hat on his head, he had achieved his childhood dream. The summer of celebrations was about to happen. She wiped her hands across her cheeks, clearing the tears from her skin before she stood up. 

She took a hold of the wine bottle and placed it into the fridge because who likes warm wine?

A smile formed to her lips as the Avalanche jersey on her frame was something she never thought she would wear. Especially with how serious her dad was about the Habs. But she knew that he was rooting for Nathan and so was she.

She sat back on the couch and laid down as she watched the remainder of the broadcast, Nathan’s interview, and the team photo. An audible laugh fell from her lips after she watched Nicolas Aubė-Kubel drop the Cup. Everyone’s face was ridiculous.

She reached for her phone to see a text from Nathan: I can’t wait to be in Denver to celebrate with you.

The following morning she awoke to several missed called from Nathan almost as if he spent most of the night trying to get a hold of her. She rolled her eyes playfully as she began to call him back as she stumbled towards her kitchen and her coffee maker. 

It took a handful of rings before he answered.

“Hey,” his voice was nearly gone, so hoarse it was barely audible.

“Hey champion,” she teased.

“Still does not feel real,” he let out. 

“Denver was crazy last night, they’re excited for you guys to bring it home,” she explained. He chuckled.

“Can’t wait to see you,” he let out, “-And that wine bottle because it fucking happened and we are fucking celebrating,” 

It was that same night and she has spent most of the day simply waiting for Nathan. Ever since game five against the Blues, they started flirting more and the tension between them was getting more and more intense. 

It was hard to decipher exactly what was the tension from, lust or longing. It was impossible but tonight was the night she was going to try and dissect it and figure it out. She ran her fingers through her recently styled hair and stared into her reflection, trying to decide if she was happy with the way she looked. 

It didn’t matter as Nathan rang her doorbell three times. She leaped out of the bathroom and jogged down towards her front door. She pulled it open and smiled towards him. Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. A giggle fell from her lips as slowly glided her inside of the apartment. 

“It was better than I ever could’ve imagined,” he mumbled against her hair. “Wish you were there to experience it,” 

She slowly pulled away, meeting his gaze as she rested her hands on the base of his neck, “I’ll be there for the next one,” she let out. He smirked as his gaze flickered towards her lips for much longer than he would like to admit. 

“Yeah?” he let out. She nodded, keeping his gaze towards her lips. “Where’s that bottle?” he said slowly slipping away from her grasp. Perhaps in the need of some liquid courage. 

She pointed towards the fridge and he immediately pulled it open to look towards the bottle that’s been on his mind for over a decade. He pulled it out and delicately rested it onto the counter. She had already placed two glasses onto the counter as he was fetching the bottle. 

He popped it open, a grin wide on his lips. They giggled as he happily poured two large glasses of wine. He placed it back down as he slid the glass towards her. He brought it towards his lips at the same time as she did and they both took a long sip. It was probably the fanciest wine she’s ever had. He shut his eyes content as he took in a long breath. 

It had been several hours later and safe to say they were giggling and incredibly wine drunk. They were laid across her bed, nearly a bottle and a half shared between them, both of them were quite the lightweight. 

“No-no cause look I’ve got a bruise from that hug-alright!” he let out while laughing, he tossed his body to the side to try and find the bruise from the impact, he was unsuccessful, it just ended in more fits of laughter. 

They slipped in and out of different conversations as they were sprailedd out on her bed, distant at times and really close at others. In this moment it was one of those times where they were incredibly close. Their nose bumping at times from how close they were.

“When I moved here, I genuinely didn’t think I would see you,”  she expressed. He hummed as he kept his gaze on her lips, his bright red cheeks were not hiding the fact of how intoxicated he was. Her rambling words were a sign of hers. “Like it didn’t even cross my mind that you lived here because it had been so long but I’m so glad I ran into you,”

“Me too,” he let out.

He reached over towards her and took a hold of her chin as he leaned towards her kissing her delicately. It wasn’t urgent but so delicate that it was almost a confession of love in the process. 

He pulled away, keeping a small distance between their lips. A smile formed to her lips before she leaned towards him, kissing him again. She slowly rolled onto her back allowing him to climb on top of her. 

[snaileer]

Time Unsolved

Dp Unsolved

“Today on Buzzfeed unsolved we cover the Timely Disappearance of Charles T. Williamsworth.”

Danny slurped loudly on his drink as the intro played. Was he maybe crazy for watching a Buzzfeed Unsolved True Crime alone, at night? Maybe.

But Danny had been attacked by ghosts. What was a human gonna do that Skulker couldn’t?

“What a name!” Shane cut in immediately, the video showing him seated at their table holding a cup of coffee. Ryan laughed.

“‘Ello, yes, my name is Sir Charles T. Williamsworth, how art thou? Ah yes, jolly good!” Shane mimicked with a horrifically bad posh British accent.

Ryan laughed harder, “We’ve been to London, they don’t sound like that!” He said between laughs.

“Uh, he does! There’s no way a man with a name like that is not ‘mm yes I will take a spot of tea with my biscuit thank you.’ I’m calling it, he definitely talked like that!”

Danny smiled at the antics as Ryan wheezed, “Well it’s too bad we’ll never know for sure then isn’t it, what with his disappearance, y’know what we’re actually here to talk about.”

“That’s okay. I’ll know. I know my buddy Charles.”

“Alright then.”

Ryan flicked his file open as Shane took a sip from his coffee.

The screen lit up with an image of a man on a black backdrop.

“The Williamsworths were a French-German family who moved to Biel, Switzerland in early 1914, just months before the largest war in European history kicked off.

They were one of the lucky few families to have left France before the war broke out…”

“Oh a family moving, that’s suspicious now?”Shane cut in, yellow words typing themself across the screen.

“Well, it was right before World War 1, I mean the timing is kind of suspicious.” Ryan replied in blue.

-People move, Ryan.-

-Okay, okay, it’s just the facts of the case,.-

Danny rolled his eyes, ready for the story to continue.

The images came back.

“This move would evidently prove to be quite fortunate for the family for obvious reasons. However, it also led Charles to find his true passion: … Watchmaking.”

There was a pause as a map of Switzerland came on screen. “Biel, the town that Charles would live in for the majority of his recorded younger life, was known for watchmaking, being one of several in the heart of an area named ‘Watch Valley.’ “

-You ever own a Swiss watch?-

-Nope-

-Heard they’re good. Reeeal good.-

-Yep.-

-…-

“Charles would reportedly develop a passion for clocks, watches, and timepieces in general, only getting more entrenched in his obsession over time.”

The image of the man now shifted to be overlaid on a map.

“By the time the First World War was over, Charles had gained an ostentatious apprenticeship under one of the premiere watchmakers of the time, Max Stührling. This lasted until Stührling’s death in 1938, after which Charles vanished from any records for two years.”

-Well y’know, his mentor had just died. -Maybe he wanted to grieve. Y’know curl up in his room and not see anybody for a bit.-

Ryan laughed, -2 years, he was crying in his room for 2 years and nobody found him?-

-Well, it’s not like records were great back then, I mean what are you gonna write on the census… just.. like..-

-Loud weeping heard from inside. One resident. Unnamed.-

-Yeah!-

“The next time Charles T. Williamsworth appears on record, it is in the back of a photo from France in 1940. Showing Williamsworth standing in front of a watch shop wearing dark clothes, a distinct pocket watch, and looking into the camera.”

The black and white image appears on screen, zooming in on the background figure. Danny tilts his head at it, something about it niggling at him.

“The shop and its owner would go on to be infamous within the French town for the duration of the Second World War. Charles was unwillingly drafted in the summer of 1941, serving on the front lines for no more than 3 months before sustaining a wound to his face, leaving him with damaged eyesight, facial scarring, and a medical discharge.

He returned to his shop soon after.”

Danny frowned at the mention of what the man had probably gone through.

“Later evidence statements regarding Charles stated that he was: ‘an odd man. He never mentioned the war, leaving it behind once he was not forced to be a part of it. He seemed to be separate from it all, he only cared for his watches.’

This sense of separation would extend to his shop, as when the town was bombed in 1944 leading up to D-day, his shop was left miraculously unharmed. It was reportedly open the very next day.”

-I can appreciate the dedication- Shane says in yellow.

-Yeah, I mean, the morning after is a bit soon, but he did really love watches. If he didn’t have to, I guess he wasn’t gonna close his shop.-

-His advertising: ‘Sure you were almost killed in a fiery explosion, but look! I’ve got new watches!’ Jazz hands.-

Ryan laughs.

“Over the next 50 years, Charles T. Williamsworth would disappear from records repeatedly, sometimes for months, only present on seven censuses between 1952 and 1979. Despite this, the clock shop was never sold, remaining in wait for its master’s return.”

Multiple pictures of pocket watches came onscreen. “It became known in the surrounding area for especially good pocket watches and grandfather clocks. Each personally made using Swiss essemblage practices, often engraved.

While it was a place of prestige, some described the shop as having ‘an unbearably loud sound of ticking, as if a thousand clocks were set to the same second.’

Apparently, Charles ‘seemed to enjoy the sound, often standing in the front room when no one was present. He was able to pick out one clock if it was off time.’ Witnesses stated.”

It cut to showing Shane and Ryan at their table.

“God, I can’t imagine. That’d drive me crazy.” Shane said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know, a thousand clocks at the same time? Just..” Ryan looked back and forth frantically, as if there were sounds from every direction, “I’d go nuts pretty fast, I can’t even handle one sometimes.”

“I’d just go off and punch one of the clocks, just- RAAAH and -oh my god is that where that comes from?! I’m gonna punch your clock? Or like you clock somebody!?! Oh my god I never realized that!”

Danny’s jaw drops at the realization as Ryan laughs. Shane looks to be losing his mind as well.

“However, Charles’ most notable disappearance was his last.”

Dramatic music played as Danny zoned back in.

“Due to his frequency of vanishing for extended periods of time, it is unknown when exactly Charles disappeared. The last definite sighting of Charles T. Williamsworth was late at night on April 23rd, 1999, when neighborhood patrolman, Elliot Dubois, noticed him locking the door to his shop with its lights still on. Elliot, concerned for the safety of the elderly man, questioned him but eventually allowed Charles to leave, noting that he turned down a road that only led into the woods outside of town.

Two weeks later, 12 year old James Chappellè, a mailboy in the area, noted during his morning run on May 7 that mail had begun to pile up in front of the shop’s door.

Something that had never happened before.”

The word ‘before’ faded into red.

“It reached such a point that the mail system declared they would no longer deliver, as they couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t be stolen.

At this point, the police got involved and the case was assigned to Detective Jacob Laurent.

It turned out to be a more difficult case than first expected, as when they looked into Charles’ past, they were unable to turn up any such notable documents as a birth certificate nor any document containing a birthdate.

But when police entered the shop on May 10th, they found it largely empty, with only the shelves, register, and equipment left remaining between the front and back room. There were no clocks of any kind.

It should be noted that there was still money in the register, and a light on in the back though the other bulbs for the front seemed to have been burnt out.

Upon entering the living space above the shop, it was found to be covered in dust, and all of Charles’ clothes and belongings still present.

Rather, there was evidence that Charles largely slept in his shop, with a cot beside his workbench.

A workbench that, upon police entry, only held one gold pocketwatch, personally engraved with the initials ‘C. W.’ As it was known for Charles to always carry the pocketwatch, he was officially declared missing and possibly presumed dead.

The watch’s presence also led detective Laurent to suspect foul play.

Despite the declaration of foul play, the police did not extensively search the town woods, citing the size and density of the forest.”

The video cut to Shane staring at Ryan, face deadpan. Ryan was clearly trying to hold back laughs.

“So… let me get this straight… an old man who’s… how old at this point exactly?”

Ryan laughs, “Nobody knows, there’s no known birthday-“

“That’s weird too, but okay, let’s say he’s like what, at least 95? I mean… there’s a certain age that like if you disappear… ..eh.” Shane shrugged.

Ryan looked at him incredulously, “Eh??”

“Yeah,” Shane shrugged again, “Eh.”

“What???”

“I mean… y’know… old people wander into the woods sometimes, maybe he just went for a walk and got lost. At that age… death has gotta be around every corner, I mean come on!”

Ryan wheezed into his elbow.

Danny laughed quietly.

Once Ryan calmed down, he organized the file, clipping it down on the table, “So! With the story finished, let’s get into the theories,”

Shane rolled his eyes, “Oh god this is gonna be one of yours isn’t it? What ghosts are abducting people now?”

Danny smiled, briefly considering how much effort it would take to go haunt Shane all the way in LA.

“The first theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth was involved with the mafia at the time and was a long standing or high ranking member that had crossed the wrong people.

Some reasons for this theory is the lack of early documents, suggesting a fake identity or forgery.

This case is especially supported by the long absences, where his shop remained closed and yet still remained in his possession.

In fact, the deed for the shop was not listed under Charles’ name, instead Iisted as owned under a private organization.

This theory explains his disappearance and possible subsequent death as an act of revenge from an enemy made from illicit activities. Leaving no body behind, there would be no evidence to prosecute the acting party.

Within this, there are also some who believe that if Charles was engaged in the mafia and lived under a false identity, that his disappearance was him returning to his actual identity, possibly due to being caught.

Prison records indicate 6 Swiss-German inmates arrested at the approximate time of his disappearance, roughly matching the age and appearance of Charles. Notably, none of them had a distinct facial scar and no identification was ever confirmed.”

The screen switched.

Shane smiled at Ryan, “Oh Ho Ho, my boy Charles is getting into some funky stuff, huh? Workin’ for the Mob, breaking knees, chopping fingers?”

Ryan laughed, “Yeah maybe, it definitely lends credit to him being a part of something. Maybe he was out in the woods breaking knees y’know. Or burying something.”

“Someone,…”Shane said ominously, then burst out laughing, “What if he buried himself! Just-“Shane mimed digging, clapping his hands like he was wiping off dust, “Alright, thats a good illegal grave right there, just a good hole for a dead- woaaah!” He pretended to fall, “Boom, stuck in his own grave.”

“Really, this old man dug a 6 foot deep grave? On his own?”

“Hey you don’t know his strength, maybe he lifts.”

“Alright.” Ryan shook his head, still grinning.

Danny smiled, considering it, it did kind of make sense.

“The second theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth did indeed just walk into the woods and never come out. If this is the case, what happened in the woods is widely speculated on. Some saying that animals may have attacked him, or that he simply fell or was injured and could not get up due to his age.

This theory loses support due to the fact that no body was ever found. Though some say that if the woods were too big for the police to search, there may be a den or that his body was covered naturally.”

“Or in a grave.”

“You really think he was mafia?”

“I mean, who could tell?” Shane shrugged.

“The third theory, much like the first, is that Charles was a federal agent for one of the Allied Powers.

This theory is also supported by the significant periods of absence and lack of documents to indicate a forged identity, meant to fool the German government and allow him to work behind the lines. However, unlike the first, there is also evidence of a man with the same distinct scar on his eye, showing up in the background of photos at the British Intelligence Office, the Eiffel Tower during Germany’s occupancy, and behind closed Swiss borders.

None of which would be possible without the unique skills and permissions of a government agent.”

Silence reigned as Shane and Ryan stared each other down, Shane clearly ramping up for something.

“The name’s Williamsworth. Charles Williamsworth.” He said dramatically.

Ryan burst out laughing. “You support this one more then?”

“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind, he’s not in the mafia. His suspicious activities were in the name of secrecy, national secrets, confidential war trades. Espionage…”

“Well I guess, nobody’s gonna suspect the 95 year old man to be up to anything. I mean, if I saw an old man somewhere I’d just be like, huh I wonder who lost their grandpa, not ‘I bet he’s secretly working to take down Hitler.’ Y’know.”

“Charles gets caught: just ‘Whaa-at me~e? I’m just a gentle~e o~ ol~ld ma~an, I can’t harm nobody~y.” Shane mimed leaning over a cane.

“He gets caught and just pretends he has dementia, ‘Who am I? Who are you? Why am I here? Where’s my breakfast?”

Shane cackled as Ryan laughed.

Danny considered it more, this one seemed the most likely, though… he’d definitely be the oldest agent.

“Another theory is that the shop was robbed and Charles returned while or before it was happening, catching the criminals off guard and leading them to react rashly, injuring or killing Charles. They then would have hidden his body and cleaned out the shop to hide any other evidence.

This theory however is disproven by the lack of money taken from the register.

Despite this, it is the official claimed circumstance by the police at the time.”

“Fucking police, always with the boring one.” Shane said ruefully.

“Our last theory, and my personal favorite,-“

Shane groaned. Danny smiled, this was gonna be good.

“-is that Charles T Williamsworth was a time traveler. And that all of his disappearances were when he was traveling through time.

This theory supports his families early move to Switzerland under odd timing, his appearance in so many photos and even his obsession with clocks. As well as why he seemed unbothered by the tumultuous times.”

“I can… accept it.” Shane said, hesitant.

Ryan laughed, “I’ll take it.”

“Despite all of these theories, there is still significant information missing from the case.

And so, like clockwork this case shall remain:

Unsolved.”

Danny’s mouth dropped as the screen went dark.

No way.

No freaking way.

He lurched upwards, eyes wide.

Obsessed with clocks, scar on his eye, fricking weird and talks in riddles.

Oh mygod!

Danny threw himself out of bed, “I’ve connected the dots!” He rushed to untangle himself from his sheets, transforming immediately, “I’ve connected them!”

He dove for the ghost portal.

Holy frick!

Charles T. Williamsworth was Clockwork!

[juniperstale]

dandelion tea — ranpo

⋆ [ . . . drabble, gn!reader, lowercase intended, fluff . . . ]

dandelion tea is bitter. ranpo hates bitter. he does have the worlds largest sweet tooth, after all. but that doesn't stop the plethora of comments he gets on a daily basis telling him how nice he smells. earthy and natural, like dandelion tea.

8:30 PM. everyday since you started living together, you always came home at 8:30. and everyday since you started living together, ranpo would wait for you, sitting on the couch, two cups sitting in front of him on the coffee table by 8:30. one filled with hot chocolate and one with dandelion tea.

you'd place a soft kiss on ranpo's head as you walked past behind him on the couch before sitting down next to him picking up your cup, taking a sip and talking about your day. ranpo always listened. he'd drink his hot chocolate, nodding along and making small comments until you were done. then he'd scoot over, closer to you, and kiss you. there was always a hint of dandelion tea still lingering on your lips, but he didn't mind. because although ranpo hates dandelion tea, he loves you.

4.21.24 ⋆ i need requests guys, my mind is blank

[another-lost-mc]

taking the boys to see barbie‼️‼️🔥😫💯🤩🫨🫶🏻

A/N: I just got home from seeing Oppenheimer so this is like, perfect timing. These are some general movie outing headcanons for the group!

Going To the Movies

THE DEMON BROTHERS & THE DATEABLES

0.8k words | SFW | gn!Reader

Content: Luke is mentioned in a platonic sense only, the other relationships can be read as platonic or romantic.

You suggest a matinee show time because you figure it'll be less disruptive and chaotic for everyone.

Levi and Satan are the only ones that bother to look up the movie beforehand.

Levi wanted to read the early critic reviews, but he's careful not to complain about how stupid the plot sounds because he knows you want to see it.

(If it's a pop culture franchise Akuzon sells, Levi will order a t-shirt or sweater to wear on the day of the movie outing.)

Satan looked up the film's plot/backstory because you've been eager to talk about it.

(He likes knowing more about your interests than Lucifer his brothers do.)

Diavolo caught wind of your plans somehow (probably from Lucifer) and managed to convince Barbatos that they could both use an afternoon off to have some fun in the human world too.

When you show up at the theatre, Solomon and the angels from Purgatory Hall are already waiting near the concession stand.

(Barbatos admits to you that he might've told Luke about the movie plans in passing.)

Ordering food at the snack bar is interesting.

Lucifer orders himself a drink but no snacks. He opts for wine if the theatre sells it, or coffee if they don't serve alcohol, and he finally settles on bottled sparkling water if nothing else is available.

Mammon orders a popcorn combo that comes with a bag of candy. He asks you very casually what kind you like best before he just happens to choose that for himself.

Levi orders the popcorn combo that comes with the plastic collectible cup, and he browses the small display of plushies and toys near the snack bar too.

Satan orders popcorn and a drink and reminds you that there's plenty if you want to share with him.

Asmo buys a bottle of vitamin water and says he doesn't want anything to eat.

(Later he'll sneak some popcorn or nachos and candy from whoever he sits beside.)

Beel just points to all the popcorn poppers behind the counter and says he'll buy all of it.

(He grabs bags of candy off the display and drops those on the counter too.)

Belphie clarifies to the poor staff working behind the counter that they'll take two large bags of popcorn with lots of butter—and two bags of candy each, and two of the largest soft drink size they have...

Barbatos heads to another part of the concession stand to look at their frozen yogurt flavours and toppings.

While Barbatos is distracted, Diavolo orders the kid's popcorn combo because he wanted the collectible cup and toy it comes with.

Simeon buys a kid's popcorn combo for Luke and a frozen yogurt cup for himself.

(He gets two spoons so Luke can share it with him.)

Solomon orders popcorn with butter for himself, and everyone is relieved that he didn't try to sneak in any of his own homemade snacks.

He pulls out a salt shaker filled with something he claims he made himself and sprinkles it all over his popcorn.

(Unsurprisingly, no one else wants to try any when he offers it.)

Your entire group could fill an entire row of the theatre, and seating arrangements are the next big hurdle.

It surprises no one that Mammon, Asmo, Belphie, and Solomon all want to sit beside you.

(You absolutely forbid them from playing rock-paper-scissors in the theatre to solve that squabble.)

There are some obvious allowances in the seating arrangements: your BFF/lover(s) naturally claim the seats beside or closest to you.

If the seat's not already taken, Lucifer wants to sit on your right hand side.

(He smiles when you offer him some of your own snacks during the film.)

Satan and Belphie are not allowed to sit in the row behind Lucifer's seat—he already knows they'll kick the back of his chair (or his head) if they do.

Beel and Belphie usually sit next to each other. If Belphie falls asleep, he'll lean on Beel's shoulder so he doesn't disturb anyone else.

Levi complains that he's not in the seat that will give him the "best viewer experience," whatever that means, but he will sit close to you or Mammon if he can.

Solomon, Simeon and Luke move up a row and sit behind you if they can't sit beside you.

(Luke will tap your shoulder during the movie and offer you some of the candy from his kid's combo.)

Diavolo likes to sit beside or close to Lucifer.

(You can hear Diavolo comment excitedly about things throughout the movie while Lucifer reminds him to hush, which leads to both of them bickering loud enough for everyone else to hear.)

Barbatos likes to sit near Satan because they both enjoy watching the film quietly and won't bother each other.

(Barbatos doesn't mind sitting apart from Diavolo because he's always mindful of what his Young Master is up to.)

m.list | Taglist: @l-d-8 @mithrakira @your-next-daydream @haezen @xpixie @meggsngrits @flemmingbamse @tortibomb @amberrskiies @a-hidden-gem @lust--on--my--lips @meiloorun-tea @beelsjuicytitties @goldenglow149 @callmesaya @cosmicstarlatte @alexxncl @sirimirihiro @i-am-empress-irish @ezraiix @bizarrebankai @devildomd0ll @todothedodo @gaychaosgremlin @alexxavicry @moon-i-v @ablondehoe @thewisteriarchives @vinsmouke @kiirschtein @halaxia @bookoffracturedescapes

[stargirlygirl]

upgrade pt.3

pro hero! midoriya izuku x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — most of izu's arm has been amputated, hurt comfort, swearing, 4k words

pt.1, pt.2, epilogue

It’s 3am and you jolt awake, realising that you had dozed off mid-construction.

It’s been three days since the fight where Izuku lost his arm, and you’ve barely slept since. You’ve been busy, juggling sourcing materials and building Izuku’s robotic arm with visiting him daily and remembering to eat and shower. You look like a little rat to be honest, hair in a low messy bun, welding mask tilted up so you can see. The huge gloves make it hard to meld all of the parts together, but you know that they’re for your own good.

It’s coming together well. You’re supposed to be putting on the last attachments right now instead of dozing off, so it will be ready for testing tomorrow. Luckily, Izuku’s wound hasn’t developed an infection yet and yesterday, you were able to meet with the orthopaedic surgeon who will be attaching Izuku’s replacement arm. You two discussed the design and attachment in detail. He was open-minded and asked you various questions about how the arm would work once attached. You felt grateful that Dr Kita had chosen such an enthusiastic surgeon for Izuku’s second surgery. You were confident that he’d be in good hands.

Looking over to your empty Shoto mug that Izuku scored you for your birthday earlier that year, you decided to take a little break to freshen up before continuing on with welding. You grabbed your mug and made your way to the kitchen, basking in the quietness of the night permeated by the sound of the kettle boiling. You made yourself another coffee and took it out to the balcony attached to your living room.

You loved sitting on the balcony. It always left you in awe, seeing the world below. Usually, Izuku would come out and sit with you in the morning.

You normally sat down in the plush chair to the right and journalled, coffee on the small table next to you, but tonight, you took your coffee leaning over the metal fence. You sighed in a mix of relief and exhaustion. You closed your eyes, feeling the crispy night breeze cascading across your warm skin. You stayed like that for a while until you felt those familiar jitters and headed back inside to continue your work.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

It was around 7am when you finished adding those last touches. You stared down at your work, proud and relieved. The first part was finished now. You had been working over a low table, cross-legged on the floor with a lamp overhead. Your feet had pins and needles and it was such a good yet painful experience to finally stand up. You went to shower and get ready, washing your hair and moisturising with your favourite lotion. You wrapped the arm in a thick cloth before stuffing it with care into the largest tote bag you own. The clothed hand was still visible, peaking out from the top of the bag, but it was good enough.

The trip to Central Hospital was uneventful. Or maybe, you were just too tired to notice anything that had happened. Your brain was working on autopilot, taking you up to level 5 and walking you to Izuku’s room, hand knocking on the door. You didn’t hear any response, so you gently opened the door and slipped into the room.

Ah, he was still asleep. Your sweet angel. Which was strange because Izuku was an early riser. Nevertheless, you came over to his side, placing your bag down on the table by his bedside and sitting on his bed. Your right hand stroked the side of his face, gently cupping his cheek. You leaned over and placed a kiss on his forehead. He groaned groggily in response, rocking his head slightly.

You giggled, “Good morning, sleepyhead.” He groaned again, eyelids slowly fluttering open to reveal those beautiful green eyes that always take your breath away. A lazy smile spread across his face upon seeing you, and he turns his head to place a brief kiss on your palm.

He rasps into your skin, “Morning, honey.”

You chuckle lightly. Gosh your man is so handsome! What a heartthrob. You just love it when he just wakes up.

You move your palm away, now resting it on his thigh. “Did you sleep okay?” He rubs his face with the back of his remaining hand. He yawns and stretches a little, wincing in pain from his still open wound.

“I was up most of the night,” he breathes out. “Just thinking.” You stay quiet, looking at him tenderly, hoping he’ll continue. He knows that look well.

Sighing, he brushes it off, “Really, it’s nothing to worry about.”

You shake your head, scowling lightly, “Izu-chan. Don’t get like that with me. Tell me, what’s been on your mind?” He looks away from you momentarily, focusing on sitting up. You lean back over to help him up. Once he’s upright, you’re running your fingers through his unruly curls. You laugh at how messy they’ve gotten. His hair is always a struggle to tame in the morning. He moans softly at the feeling. You stop once satisfied with how they look. They’re still messy, but he looks a little more presentable now.

“Come onnnnnnn. Or fine, don’t tell me. That’s cool too.” You whine.

He chuckles, “Honey, I just don’t want to make you worry.” His self-sacrificial behaviour begins to get on your nerves.

Your brows furrow as you say, “It’s my job to worry. I’m your girlfriend after all. Whose going to take care of you if I don’t?”

He doesn’t like it when you look him that way, upset. He hates making you feel upset.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…um,” he starts. Your practically begging him with your eyes to just keep talking. It’s something you’ve been working on together for years, Izuku being more open about talking about how he feels with you. It’s not that he can’t, it’s just that he just doesn’t want to burden you, which is why he tries to keep the worst of his thoughts and emotions to himself. But, he knows how much it irritates you, so he usually ends up divulging it anyways.

“Is it about your arm?” You ask as your tilt your head to the side, nodding toward it. Apart from the cry you two had together that first night, Izuku’s been avoiding the topic of losing his arm like the plague. You’re pretty sure that’s what has been on his mind. I mean, what else could be keeping him up at night right now? And this assumption is confirmed when his eyes widen and mouth drops open slightly. He regains his composure quickly, laughing airily as he looks away from you and starts rubbing the nape of his neck.

“Maybe.”

You raise an eyebrow as you say, “Maybe?” Your stare is quite intense and he’s not too sure how long he can withstand it. Apparently, not very long as he gives up trying to hide this from you any longer.

“It’s just… hard.” You nod, squeeing his thigh gently above the blankets. “It’s like…” You can see that his eyes are already becoming glassy.

“A part of me is gone now. It doesn’t f-feel real. I-it—” He’s struggling to hold back the tears. You move so that you’re curled up into his right side. His right arm is around you, your knees on his lap, arms around his shoulders. He lays his head into the crook of your neck, sniffling. You can feel his tears drip onto you.

You two stay like that for a while as he cries and hiccups. You stroke the top and back of his head as he let’s it out. You hate knowing that he’s been crying all alone, thinking it was better to be by himself than with you. You’re about to start crying too, so you opt to rest your head on top of his, looking upwards every so often to blink those tears back.

Once, he’s calmed down and taken some deep breaths, he continues, “I-I don’t know if I’ll e-ever be me again. I-I k-know that I’ll have-have another arm b-but it’s not the-the same.”

You hum. “I-it’s like I’ve... l-like I’ve been r-robbed of a-a part of me. I'm-I’m n-not whole anymore.” You squeeze his shoulder. You know that right now isn’t the time to tell him how wonderful you think he is. He just needs the space to express his emotions and fears first. He continues to cry into your neck until the neckline to the shoulder of Izuku’s All Might shirt you threw on is drenched.

You start, “You know, maybe this isn’t such a bad thing—”

“Honey,” he interrupts you immediately, his voice stiff and cloudy. “What-What do you mean this isn’t ‘such a-a bad thing’.” His tone tells you everything you need to know.

You silently promise him you’re not being a dick and continue, you press on, “What if this is a neutral thing? Something that’s just happened. And you get to decide if it’s a bad thing or if it’s something challenging that you’ll overcome.” You continue running your fingers through his hairs, those green curls bouncing back every time.

“S-something I’ll over-overcome?”

You nod, giving the back of his neck a rub, “Yea, like how you’ve overcome the challenge of One For All and learnt how to master it.” He’s quiet for a few moments.

“But I haven’t. Y-you heard what Kacchan said. I-I shouldn’t of used One For All at 100%. I-I know I-I shouldn’t have but—”

“Forget about what Kacchan said. You did what you did because you wanted to save her, right?” Izuku nods slowly, head still resting on your shoulder. “That’s because you're a hero.” You plant a kiss on top of his head. “The best hero ever, okay? And you got hurt. It happens to all heroes. I mean, look at what’s happened to All Might after his years of being a hero. But he’s still strong, right? So you can be too.”

You two let things settle for a few more minutes. By now, Izuku’s stopped sobbing and sniffling altogether. His breathing is much calmer now. You let out a deep breath, “I’m gonna need to borrow your quirk to test your arm.” You point at your bag on the bedside table, Izuku following your fingers. He nods, lifting his head back up. His arm comes down to your waist, hand giving it a squeeze.

You see, the way this quirk stealing thing works depends on the intensity and emotions of the kiss (because you borrow quirks via kissing, remember?).

You say that you can ‘steal’ someone’s quirk for up to 24 hours but in reality, you don’t actually know how long you could have someone’s quirk for. It would be temporary of course, but 24 hours is the longest period yet that you’ve ‘stolen’ someone’s quirk.

Actually, you’ve never taken Izuku’s quirk before, so you were curious about if you could and how it would work with the wielders. Would you make contact with them? Could you even ‘steal’ Izuku’s quirk? You were going out on a bit of limb when you told Dr Kita that you could. I mean, you’ve never had any issues with other people’s quirks before. Would One For All be any different?

The time you’re able to borrow a quirk for depends on two factors: 1) how strong the quirk and/or quirk user is and 2) how intense and emotional the kiss is.

You rest your forehead on Izuku, activating your quirk, before he brings his lips up to yours. The kiss is soft at first. Either party uncertain of how deep things were going to go. But you throw caution to the wind and tilt your head more, pressing hard into Izuku’s lips. He meets your enthusiasm, teeth catching lightly on your bottom lip. You moan into it, fingers now tugging at his roots. Soon, tongues are entwining and tasting each other. Boy hasn’t brushed his teeth yet so it’s not exactly pleasant, but you push through. This has gotta give you at least 12 hours with his quirk, right?

A simple peck on the lips or kiss on the cheek could already grant you 3-5 hours depending on how strong the quirk and it’s user were, so this has gotta give you at least 10 hours due to how strong Izuku was and how deeply connected he was to his quirk.

At last, you two pull away, gasping for air. His hand now rests between your shoulder blades, his thumb gently caressing the space there. You feel that familiar, bubbling sensation all over your body, meaning that the transfer of his quirk was successful.

You smirk and give him a brief kiss on his forehead, “Thanks, broccoli boy.”

You get up, already missing the warmth of his body, and walk around to the other side of the bed. You’re about to grab your bag when suddenly, you realise—

“Izu-chan, you wanna see the arm I built you?” You’re already fishing it out of your tote, placing it on top and unwrapping it from the thick brown cloth protecting it. He hums in agreement.

The morning sunlight glints on the dark green metal. You pick it up with both hands and show it to him. It’s actually not that heavy, maybe two kilos, but you don’t want to drop it.

“Do you like it?” You look up and he’s wide eyed, staring at your creation in awe.

He stutters, “I, Honey, yea, I… Wow, you’re so incredible. It looks great!” He’s grinning and you feel so happy that he likes it.

You begin turning it over and explaining all the different parts and how the arm works, what it can do including normal arm stuff and other stuff. You’ve included a gun barrel, which has already been loaded with bullets, and a small canon that (hopefully) fires electrical bursts of energy generated by his quirk (which one idk man you pick, there’s too many), in the arm.

“You make a fist and tilt your arm right for the gun or left for the canon.” He nods.

Once you’ve explained everything that you can think of about the arm, you give him another small kiss before saying goodbye.

You took the elevator down to ground floor and after exiting the hospital, you began walking to the station. Now, you had to test the arm. You planned to go to one of the wooded areas on the very outskirts of Tokyo. You’ve never used One For All before so you had to figure it out before you began testing the arm. Damn! You should of asked him for some tips before you left.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

Izuku’s eyes widen and he jumps in his bed as the door bursts open, clipboard on the back rattling. A scowling Bakugou walks in, Shoto in tow stoic as usual. Broccoli boy immediately relaxes and a small smile comes to his face. Most days, Bakugou and Shoto stayed with Izuku during the day, after you had left. They usually sat down on or beside his bed, talking about anything and everything; the future, their All Might trading card collections, reminiscing about UA.

Today, Bakugou plopped down on Izuku’s bed, where you had been moments earlier while Shoto dragged a chair over and sat on broccoli boy’s other side. The conversation centred around starting an agency. Bakugou was sick of working under Best Jeanist. Meanwhile, Izuku was happy being part of an agency, but had been thinking about starting his own after his rise to the top. And Shoto had joined Endeavor’s agency after leaving UA and worked as a pro hero under him.

“When Endeavor retires, I’ll take over his agency.” Shoto’s voice was calm, but the boys knew how tense it was beneath that smooth surface

“Tch. Thought you didn’t like your old man,” Bakugou said as he folded his arms, a familiar furrow between his brows deepening as he stared icyhot down from across the bed.

Shoto shrugged, “I don’t have to like him to inherit his agency.”

Izuku pouted, “But Todoroki-kun, I thought you were working on it.” At this, Shoto shrugged again.

“OI!” The two boys looked back to the blond. “I DON’T CARE IF YOU INHERIT AN AGENCY, MINE’LL BE THE BEST ‘ERE!” Bakugou had that sharp, lopsided grin on his face as he glared at Shoto, challenging him.

Izuku chuckled, “I’m sure it will be.” He looked down, shaking his head while laughing lightly.

Bakugou scoffed and rolled his eyes. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU DEKU, EH? DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE GIVIN’ UP ALREADY!” The fiery blond had locked onto a new target to express his aggressions. He was pointing at Izuku who just rubbed his neck sheepishly.

Izuku’s voice was quiet as he said, “Sorry, Kacch—”

“AH? I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”

Izuku continued looking down until he eventually chuckled. He met those fierce eyes with his own much puffier and gentler ones. He said, “You’re right, there is something wrong with me. But, I’m not giving up yet.”

“Tch. Whatever.” Bakugou looked away, rolling his eyes again.

It was quiet for a bit before Shoto broke the silence, “Should we get some lunch?”

At this, Bakugou grinned, “Oi, let’s get it from that café we took pipsqueak to.” He was already standing when Izuku tilted his head to side.

He asked, “Who’s pipsqueak?

Bakugou barked out his laughter. “YOUR GIRLFRIEND DUMMY.” Izuku’s mouth hung open slightly for a moment, confusion leaving his mind blank.

“Oh," he said.

Shoto got up from his chair and walked around to stand beside Bakugou. He kept his distance thankfully as Bakugou turned around, glaring at him.

“You, stay ‘ere. I’ll get us some coffee and sandwiches. You want iced coffee?” Shoto nodded. Bakugou left the two of them alone, walking out with his shoulders hunched as per usual. There weren’t any stupid pockets on the gown to stuff his sweaty palms into.

Shoto came to sit where Bakugou had been, on Izuku’s bedside. Izuku shifted slightly. “So,” he started nervous-curiously, “is that where they went after leaving my room? To the café?”

Shoto remained impassive, “I don’t know. I was already at the café when Bakugou and [y/n]-san walked in and joined me.” Izuku gave Shoto that look. That ‘tell me everything’ look.

Shoto shrugged, “She seemed stressed. She told me that I was her second favourite hero and Bakugou got annoyed. He bought her a coffee and a sandwich.”

Izuku nodded at this new information. You hadn’t mentioned to him that you went for coffee with Bakugou and Shoto. He assumed that this was because you were focused on constructing his cybernetic arm (which in part was true, but also because he’s already going through so much, you didn’t want to burden him or make him feel insecure about your relationship. He was the only one for you, after all.).

“She’s cute. Quite talkative. You two seem like a good match.”

At this, Izuku perked up, “You think?” Shoto nodded. Izuku brought his right hand back to his neck and began rubbing it again. It went quiet again.

“I think… I-I think I might propose at the end of the year. What do you think?”

Those heterochromatic eyes hid their surprise well. Izuku? Get married? Soon? He was the only one in a long-term relationship out of the dekusquad. It made sense for him to be thinking about marriage. Shoto could see what a catch you were. If you were his girlfriend, he’d be thinking about it too.

“I think you should do what’s right for you. She clearly loves you very much, and if you love her,” Shoto paused, trying to find the right words. “If it’s the right time, then you should propose.” The boys looked at each other for a few moments, a faint blush spreading across Izuku’s cheeks.

“Y-yea,” he stuttered, “I really do love her.” He was smiling foolishly. Shoto nodded.

The peace of this moment didn’t last long though, for Bakugou slammed the door open soon, arms full with a coffee cup tray and paper bags of deserts and sandwiches. The boys ate up, remarking that this café food was something else. The rest of the afternoon went by a smoothly as possible and soon, Izuku was left alone again, inevitably thinking of how much he loves and admires you.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

It was a bright, clear morning. Perfect for a somewhat experimental surgery.

You had delivered the tested and refined cybernetic arm to the orthopaedic surgeon’s office on the cusp of 8pm last night. You had spent the first half of the day communicating with the wielders of One For All and learning how to use it. Because of your quirk, your body was able to transform (if a heteromorph quirk has been ‘stolen’) and withstand intense quirks of all types, so you didn’t have any major issues using One For All at full capacity. Sure, it was very tiring (which you made up for with a good sleep last night. The first in four days.) but, Izuku was your partner and technically, your client. It was your duty to rigorously test the arm to ensure functionality, durability, and safety.

Izuku had been informed early that morning that the surgery was to be performed at 8am. And so had you over a phone call that had woke you up and had you tumbling out of bed to pick up.

“Hello,” you grumbled. A clear, deep voice spoke from the other end, “Miss [L/n]?”

“Dr Kita?” You’re stumbling to your feet now, using the bed to help you up.

You plonk down, listening to him continue, “I’ve just spoken to Mr Midoriya. His second surgery will be taking place at 8am. It’s expected to take around 60 minutes. Should I let reception know that you’ll be coming to wait in the recovery room?” You’re rubbing eyes with your free hand, trying to wipe and blink all those morning eye crusts away.

“Yea. Yea! I’ll be there soon. Thanks Doc!” He tells you it’s fine and hangs the line.

You fumbled around, showering absent-mindedly and throwing on whatever looked decent (which was another of Izuku’s All Might shirts and a pair of low-rise baggy jeans).

And now, you were waiting anxiously in front of the recovery room. You wondered where Bakugou and Shoto were. Maybe, they didn’t know. Probably. Or maybe, they had been released yesterday as they didn’t have any major injuries. You checked your phone every few minutes for the time as you paced up and down the corridor, like last time. It was just hitting 9am now.

Were they finished yet? Did the arm attach okay? Was something wrong with it? Did Izuku’s wound get infected? Were there any complications? You kept asking yourself these questions and more. Time seemed to slow and stutter as you waited to be called in. 9am turned into 9:15 turned into 9:30. You were getting worried now. Even more worried than before.

But you couldn’t bask in it for long as—

“Miss [l/n]?” A nurse was poking her head out from the recovery room doors. Different from the one that did the first time. You stopped in your tracks, running down the remaining length of the hallway to meet her.

“Mr Midoriya will see you now.” You nodded frantically. She opens the door, holding it for you as you push past her. See me now? What do you mean ‘see me know’? Had he been awake this whole time? If so then why— It didn’t matter. You shook your head, seeing those untamed green locks peaking out from behind Dr Kita’s slim frame. You let out a sigh of relief.

There was your hero. Safe, sound, and smiling. There was nothing more you could ever ask for.

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Sam’s Weekly Wrap Up

Week one is upon us! My Advent Month has been so much fun to do so far, and I can't wait for the rest of it!

The Act of Healing It didn’t take long to realize that it wasn’t normal—that Harry wasn’t normal. That no one else could see the strange lights and dented auras that surrounded everyone. Harry had learned at an early age to hide it, to tell no one else about it. It worked. At least until he encountered a boy in a robe shop with the largest light he’d ever seen.

But what did it mean?

Renatus Reborn “I know Potter,” Draco began, leaning forward slightly. “I wasted six years observing him only for him to die in that forest. I don’t know who you are, but you somehow managed to get inside his body.”

Or the one where the rest of the world believes that Harry Potter came back, alive and whole. But to those that knew him, he didn’t come back at all, for it wasn’t Potter who stood before them. It was someone else.

Predicting the Present Malfoy—of all people—was the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and Harry didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Professor Malfoy said we’ll be learning the basics on how to cast a Patronus!”

Oh really? That, Harry had to see.

Where to? Date time, only why does Scorpius think he gets to tag along? And is that a suit he's wearing?

Tricks and Giggles Professor Malfoy rarely gave extra credit, the harsh and bitter teacher that he was. So, when it was announced that all they had to do was get his son—Scorpius, who was still a baby—to interact with their Magic, they all assumed it would be a walk in the park.

How hard could it be?

Because it's you 'They are only together because they are soulmates.'

They were so much more than that and it was about time the world realized it. This is a story of how Harry and Draco fell in love and how very little being soulmates had to do with any of it. 

Crude Coffee “—this coffee tastes horrible.”

“Of course it does.” The drawling tone was biting and held derision. “We here at Cup of Crude promise coffee in a timely manner, we never promised that it’ll taste good.”

Harry snorted, unable to help himself.

[probablyasocialecologist]

TikTok was where I learned about SHEIN. For a while my For You page, which had accurately identified my interest in fashion’s more material impacts, served me videos of sustainable fashion influencers decrying SHEIN’s wretched labor and environmental practices. The textile industry is the second-largest polluter in the world, they said, and of all the fast-fashion producers, SHEIN is by far the worst offender. SHEIN uses toxic chemicals in their clothing production; SHEIN mass-produces fabrics like spandex that never decompose (at this point an image would flash across the screen: an overflowing clothing landfill, or a mountain of discarded clothes in the Chilean desert so large it is visible from space); SHEIN exploits and endangers its factory workers. Employees earn $556 a month to make five hundred pieces of clothing every day, work eighteen-hour days, and use their lunch breaks to wash their hair — a schedule they repeat seven days per week with only one day off per month. A more nuanced TikToker might point out, briefly, that conditions in SHEIN factories are not necessarily unique, or that focusing on suppliers — rather than the larger systems of Western consumption and capitalism that create these conditions — is a fool’s errand, but the platform isn’t built for that kind of dialogue. I clicked on the comments and invariably read ones with several dozen likes saying, “I’m so willing to die in shein clothes.” Before long I was watching SHEIN hauls. There are millions of them — the tag #sheinhaul has been viewed a collective 14.2 billion times on TikTok. In each haul, a woman rips open a plastic bag filled with smaller plastic bags filled with small plastic clothing. Sometimes the woman holds up each garment and narrates its merits, but often the clothes are disembodied, laid flat on a floor or a bed in an accidental stop-motion animation. A stretchy red skirt on a furry white carpet is replaced by a strapless watercolor bustier with a deep-V neckline. A zebra-print skirt is followed by a matching pink two-piece set, with a short-sleeve cardigan and miniskirt constructed from a fabric that looks like bubble wrap. Sometimes a haul is five pieces, and sometimes it is too many pieces to count. The garments appear and disappear in seconds, edited to the beat of a trending song. Rarely do we see the clothing on a body. Usually brand familiarity accrues in a slow drip, building from obscurity to instant recognizability over the course of months or years as a designer’s work intersects with the zeitgeist and gains traction on social media. SHEIN was different. One day I’d never heard of the retailer and the next it was inescapable: in thousands of outfit videos, on millions of social media feeds. The clothes weren’t distinct or cohesive; what united them wasn’t style but price. All those SHEIN hauls entered my feeds with such ubiquity that they began to feel like they’d always been there. I’d opened a door to a new part of the fashion internet: a place where girls bragged about their ultra-fast-fashion purchases, delighting in the cheapness of the garments. Here, SHEIN was the obvious choice for new clothes. Why not, when you could buy on-trend pieces at lightning speed for less than the price of a cup of coffee? It was uncanny to bounce between videos: here was a girl showing off her new halter, here was another girl giving a litany of reasons why it was unconscionable to buy clothes for so little money. Didn’t these TikTokers hear one another? But then again, how could they? “This is what we keep missing here in the whole conversation about sustainability in the industry,” Nick Anguelov, a professor of public policy from UMass Dartmouth, said to a Slate journalist writing about SHEIN in June. “We keep failing to understand that our customers are kids and they don’t give a fuck.”

[butdaddyilovehim-hs]

The Wedding

Y/N is stressed planning for their wedding and Harry can’t seem to do anything right.

Warnings: angst, sad ending, explicit language

Word Count: 1.2k

Y/N gazed at the bling on her finger, the stone catching in the sunlight. It had been 6 months since she had said yes and wedding planning was in full swing. Of course with Harry being CEO of one of the largest Fortune 500 companies in the world, their wedding was all any of the tabloids were talking about.

Harry and Y/N. London’s power couple. There were now less than 2 months before the big day and Y/N had everything under control. Well… she thought she did. Y/N sighed and rubbed her temples as she stared at the seating chart, a massive binder beside her. A steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of her as Harry kissed the top of her head before sitting down next to her.

“Y/N. You’ve been staring at those charts for the last two hours. Why don’t you take a break?” She raised an eyebrow before taking a deep breath.

“Take a break? Are you kidding me? Our wedding is in 2 months Harry. And the seating plan still isn’t finished. I still haven’t bought my dress, you haven’t been to get a tux and we haven’t booked the flowers. We haven’t booked the flowers Harry!” He chuckled before tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“It’s going to be fine Y/N. Ok let me help. We can have our parents seated together on table 2… wait. Your mom isn’t on this list?” Y/N sighed as Harry looked up at her quizzically.

“I don’t know if I want to invite her. We still haven’t worked out all of our issues and I don’t need her coming in and running the whole show.”

“Why don’t you invite her for a visit? You need to work things out and I’m sure she would love nothing more than to be there for you on our day.” Y/N took a large sip of her coffee, shaking her head violently.

“Nope. No way Harry. I can’t deal with her right now. I’m stressed enough as it is.”

“But maybe if you tried you could-”

“I said NO Harry. Stop pushing it.” She turned her attention back to the seating chart, shutting him out completely. Harry watched her for a few moments before shaking his head and walking to the study. She’s just overwhelmed, he told himself. We’re going to be fine.

~

3 weeks later Y/N felt like she was drowning. She had found her dress but it was the wrong size since she had lost so much weight for the wedding. Everyone was getting on her nerves. Even Harry. Well… especially Harry. She heard the front door open then close and tore her gaze away from her planner to see Harry come in through the front door. Noticeably, without a tux. He leant down to kiss her hello, before noticing her annoyed glare.

“Everything ok hun?”

“Harry… where’s your tux?” Y/N asked coolly. His expression turned to confusion.“Y/N, what are you talking about? You told me last week to pick it up on Wednesday. It’s- he checked the date on his phone- shit. I thought it was Tuesday. Doesn’t matter, I'll just go tomorrow.” Y/N slammed her book shut before glaring at him once more.

“You can’t just “go tomorrow.” They’re closed for the next 3 weeks Harry. You won’t have time to make any adjustments if it’s wrong. God why can’t you just listen for once?!” She bit out frustrated.

Harry laughed dryly.

“Why can’t I just listen for once? Jesus Y/N, I have been listening to you for the past 6 months complain about each tiny thing that has gone wrong. Big deal. I forgot to collect it. I’ll go and get it when I can. Calm down.” Y/N stood up from the couch seething.

“Calm down? Are you fucking serious? I am so busy Harry. I have a company to run and the wedding of the year to plan. Have you seen these tabloids? I am so sick of all of them asking whether or not I’m having a baby because I seem to have ‘gained a little weight’ lately. I’m asking you to do one thing and you can’t even do that. What have you done to help me Harry? I am so sick of you.”

“Oh my god Y/N what the hell is wrong with you? It’s our wedding, it’s not the hunger games. No one is dying if it isn’t perfect. I don’t understand why you-” The doorbell rang, silencing the both of them.

Y/N stalked over to the door and wrenched it open.

“My baby!” Y/N spat out a mouthful of blonde hair as she was brought into a bone-crushing hug.

“I’ve missed you so much! And a wedding? When Harry called me last week to invite me, I just couldn’t believe it!” Y/N tugged out of the hug shooting a death glare at her fiance.

“Harry did what?” Lauren Williams beamed at her daughter, oblivious to the tension in the room.

“He invited me to the wedding honey.” She repeated patiently. Lauren moved around to give Harry a hug.

“I can’t wait to help you with everything sweetie. Have you chosen a dress? Can I see? What about flowers? Because they can be hard to-”

“Mom,” Y/N said through gritted teeth. “I just need to have a quick chat with Harry ok?”

Y/N dragged Harry to the spare bedroom down the hall to make sure Lauren couldn’t hear them.

“Ok what the fuck Harry? I specifically told you I didn’t want her here!” Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I thought it would be better for you guys to sort out your issues before the wedding but it seems like we have some stuff to work out ourselves.” Y/N huffed before crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yeah? No kidding. This is another example of you not listening. You don’t make an effort Harry and it drives me insane since I’m here fighting for this wedding. For us.” Harry snapped.

“Well if it’s so difficult for you then maybe we should call off the wedding! This clearly isn't working for us anymore! He yelled.

Y/N’s mouth snapped shut, her anger replaced with sadness. Her eyes glistened with tears and her bottom lip trembled.

“Are you… serious?” She asked quietly. “You just want to give up on us?” Because of an argument?” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, his frustration evident.

“One argument? All we do is argue! I haven’t had a single conversation with you that hasn’t ended with one of us screaming in the last 2 weeks. I don’t know what you want from me Y/N! I’m trying. I swear to god I’m fucking trying.”

“So is that what we’re doing then? Calling it off?”

“No Y/N I didn’t mean that. I just-”

“No, you made it pretty clear what you meant.” She let the tears fall freely now, dodging around him to get through the door, grabbing her purse off the table ignoring the confused look from her mother.

“Y/N, come back! We can work this out.”

“I have to get out of here Harry.” She rushes out onto the street, tears clouding her vision, her one goal being to get to her car. She doesn’t hear Harry screaming her name until it’s too late. The car hits her just as she looks up, but she’s unconscious before she can even feel the pain.

A/N: 🫠

Taglist:

@lukesaprince @intimacywithceline @styleslover-1994

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Why is your morning joe so expensive? Brazil’s coffee farms have the answer.

Extreme weather is ravaging arabica harvests in Brazil, the world’s largest coffee producer, turning a cup of joe into something of a luxury item.

To understand why coffee now costs a record $7 per pound in a typical American supermarket, take a bumpy dirt road into the hills of southeastern Brazil, past lines of purple-flowered trees and into the parched coffee fields of Augusto Rodrigues Alves.

As the farmer paced his desiccated land on a recent morning, his phone kept ringing.

Normally, these types of calls from buyers would be welcome for Rodrigues Alves, 27, who exports artisanal coffee to the United States and supplies Starbucks. But not this year, and not after this harvest.

“I don’t have any coffee,” he said hurriedly.

Then, to another caller: “I’m out of stock, nothing, zero.”

Rodrigues Alves’s dilemma illustrates the precariousness and limits of global coffee production in a quickly warming world. Extreme temperatures and severe droughts are ravaging Brazil, the world’s largest coffee producer, and taking a heavy toll on local harvests. Global demand, meanwhile, continues to surge, particularly in China. Now a beverage that has always been a daily staple, affordable to anyone in need of a boost, has started to become something of a luxury item.

The international price of Arabica, which accounts for most of the world’s ground roast, has doubled in the past year. Coffee brands — from artisanal to Folgers — are now charging far more than they did just a few years ago. At most city cafes, a simple cup of coffee can feel like a lavish indulgence — even before tip.

In the Brazilian region of Alta Mogiana, where coffee is a way of life, some farmers have seen their harvest shrivel by a third. Others by two-thirds. A few have nothing left at all. The scarcity has now made coffee looting a lucrative enterprise, forcing farmers to contend with both changing weather patterns and criminals.

Continue reading.

[bradleysass]

Muggle - @moonchaser-microfic - wc: 846

James Potter was good at many things. Quidditch, charming the socks off of people, making a complete fool of himself—it was all in his skillset. What he wasn’t good at, however, was blending in with Muggles.

Which was why he currently stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of a sun-soaked Italian piazza, gawking at the centuries-old architecture as if it might start moving.

Remus Lupin, ever the patient guide, chuckled beside him. “James, you look like a first-year who just saw the Great Hall for the first time.”

James tore his gaze away from a magnificent basilica and shot Remus a grin. “Well, excuse me for appreciating the finer details of Muggle craftsmanship! This place is brilliant. No magic, and yet it looks like something out of a bloody fairytale.”

Remus shook his head fondly. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for years, but you never listen.”

They had been in this picturesque Italian town for the better part of the day, wandering through cobbled streets, stopping by charming cafés, and indulging in pastries that Remus swore were the best in Europe. It had been his idea to drag James along on this trip—James, who had spent his whole life in the Wizarding World, with barely any understanding of Muggle customs outside of what Remus and Lily had tried (and mostly failed) to teach him.

James stretched his arms, inhaling deeply. The air was warm, carrying the scent of fresh bread and coffee. “Alright, professor,” he teased, nudging Remus with his elbow. “What’s next on our grand tour?”

Remus rolled his eyes, but there was an undeniable fondness in his expression. “There’s a gelato place up ahead. And before you ask, no, it’s not like ice cream—it’s better.”

James gasped dramatically. “Better than ice cream? You mean to tell me Muggles have been hiding superior sweets from me all this time?”

Remus sighed, though his lips twitched into a smile. “Come on, you’ll see.”

They made their way through the winding streets, the sounds of bustling tourists and local merchants filling the air. James, ever the energetic one, would occasionally stop to admire something—a colorful mosaic, a street musician playing a lively tune, an old fountain that had been standing for hundreds of years. Remus would watch him with quiet amusement, allowing James to take it all in, knowing how much he loved experiencing things with a childlike wonder.

When they finally reached the gelato stand, James wasted no time in selecting the largest cup he could, insisting on trying at least three different flavors. He took his first bite and promptly groaned. “Bloody hell, Moony, why have you been keeping this from me?”

Remus laughed. “I wasn’t keeping it from you, you just never listened when I tried to explain how good it was.”

James took another enthusiastic spoonful. “I’m listening now. Keep enlightening me.”

They found a bench nearby, sitting under the shade of an old olive tree. The sun had begun to set, casting the town in a golden hue that made everything look like a painting. James swung one leg over the other, turning slightly to face Remus.

“You know,” he mused, licking his spoon clean, “I think I like seeing the world like this. Through your eyes, I mean.”

Remus stilled for a moment, the words catching him off guard. He set his half-eaten gelato down, glancing at James. “What do you mean?”

James shrugged, looking almost sheepish. “I mean… I spend so much time wrapped up in my own world. Quidditch, magic, my own reckless nonsense. But you—you notice things, Moony. You see beauty in places I wouldn’t think twice about. And when you talk about Muggle stuff, it’s not just facts and history—it’s like you’re sharing a piece of yourself.”

There was a warmth in James’ voice, something sincere and unguarded. It made Remus’ chest ache in the best possible way.

“James,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

James turned fully toward him now, their knees brushing. He was close—closer than he probably realized. His hazel eyes, usually alight with mischief, held something softer, something more thoughtful.

Remus wasn’t sure who moved first, but the next thing he knew, James was leaning in, and Remus wasn’t pulling away. The scent of gelato and warm summer air wrapped around them as James pressed a gentle, lingering kiss against his lips.

It was soft, unsure, but full of something unspoken. When they pulled apart, James’ face was flushed, and Remus was sure he looked much the same.

“Well,” James said after a moment, clearing his throat. “That was… educational.”

Remus let out a startled laugh. “James, for the love of Merlin—”

But James just grinned, lacing their fingers together without hesitation. “So, where to next, Professor Lupin?”

Remus squeezed his hand, a smile tugging at his lips. “How about we just stay here a little longer?”

James hummed in agreement, content to sit under the fading Italian sun, their fingers intertwined, their world a little warmer than before.

[plussizefantasia]

Dr. Encyclopedia

Flufftover Day 26: Coffee Shop

Spencer Reid x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

AN: I kind of went off prompt here, but I really like where it ended up. My requests are still open for things to write after October is done so send them in. Reblogs and Feedback are really appreciated. I'll see y'all tomorrow!

ps. all the facts in here were googled so they might be wrong, but who knows?

divider credit @royallaesthetics

You weren’t planning on spending your entire morning in the quaint little coffee shop that you walk past on your way to work, but the raging storm outside dictated that you wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. You had your work laptop and could do some of your tasks from pretty much anywhere, minus team meetings but you didn’t have one of those today. You sent off a quick text to your boss letting her know that you'd be avoiding arriving at the office sporting the drowned rat look and would be there when the rain let up. She had told you not to sweat it and that she’d see you when you got there.

A similar story to yours was playing out on the other side of the shop. A very fidgety Spencer Reid was on the phone with Hotch letting him know that he was stranded in the little coffee shop and bakery he went to every morning. Because Spencer didn’t like to drive, he walked this way to get to the train that would take him a block away from Quantico, but like you also was trapped by the torrential downpour lest he soak through his sweater and catch a cold. 

“Hotch, it’s raining pretty hard here, I don’t think you want me trying to make it there in this weather.” You were unable to hear the other side of the conversation “Yeah, okay. Yes. Yes. Sir, I will bring you one of the muffins you like.” You let out a little chuckle at the handsome stranger’s negotiating skills. 

“Boss man not happy?” you queried.

“Oh,” the man looked between his phone and you, “he’ll be okay. He loved the banana nut muffins from here.”

“Hmm. Did you know that the banana plant is the largest plant in the world without a woody stem? The trunk is just banana leaves intertwined around each other making a strong base.” You offered. You found that fun facts were a great way to break the ice, and if this man was to be your only real company besides the busy-looking barista behind the counter until the rain ended, you wanted to get off on the right foot.

“I did. Did you know that the first discovery of coffee’s stimulant effects was made by 15th-century goats?” He replied, nodding his head at the coffee cup you were holding.

‘Goats?” You asked. 

“Yes, they were found by the locals in a small Brazilian town and were more energetic than the average goat, causing the coffee plant to be found and its use deduced.”

“Well, that is just about the funnest fact I’ve ever heard.” You told him, pushing your hand out to offer the man a handshake.

“Oh, I don’t shake hands. You transfer fewer germs by kissing than shaking hands.”

You put your hand down, “what is your name?” 

‘Spencer Reid.” He handed you a business card with his name on it from somewhere on his body, you weren't sure. It was like it had just appeared. 

You read the card. “FBI, huh? So you’re like real important aren’t you.”

‘I don’t know about that the FBI employs about 35,000 people across the US, I’m just one man.”

“One man, who knows a lot about caffeinated goats.”

“I know a lot about a lot of things.”

“Prove it.” You had challenged. With a raise of his eyebrow, he followed your instructions. For the next hour and a half the two of you sat at a small table in the corner of the shop, the only customers in the whole place. Rain beat against the windows and the light outside dimmed, being replaced with a sort of grey sheen that seemed to bathe the whole interior of the shop in a bittersweet melancholy. 

Spencer and you went fact for fact, he was polite enough not to admit that he knew all of the facts you had presented already, or tell you that a few of them were wrong. He was astonished that you were willing to listen to his rambling for so long. The only person who could really stand to listen to him for a long period of time was JJ and her record was 45 minutes, you were going into hour two.

“So, Mr. FBI. How do you know so many wonderful things?”

‘I was kind of a lonely kid, I graduated early from every school I was in, and didn’t have many friends so I turned to books. And when you have an eidetic memory, you learn a lot of things.”

“I didn’t have many friends either,” you reassured him, not wanting him to stew in his vulnerability alone, “I taught myself all kinds of things. How to sew, how to make chicken cordon blue, growing vegetables.” you sighed sort of wistfully. “Looking back, they aren't very impressive skills but I love them growing up.”

‘I don’t know about not impressive, I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever owned.” Spencer admitted. “I think your skills sound pretty great.”

“Yeah? Well, I think being a walking encyclopedia is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

The two of you just sat in the pleasant silence for a little bit. Both are a little shy after so many compliments. Spencer’s phone rang.

“Dr. Reid.” He answered giving you an apologetic look and standing up from the table.

Dr. Reid. He hadn’t told you he was a doctor, you want to know what his PhD was in. YOu wanted to know all about him, you wanted to know him.

“Reid, where are you?” Hotch asked.

“I told you that I was in the shop, I’d be there when the rain was over. 

“Reid. The rain is over, the rain has been over for twenty minutes.” Spenser immediately shot his head towards the window of the shop. Hotch was right, there were still water droplets that clung to the glass, but the downpour had stopped. The clouds had passed and several rays of sunlight were beginning to seep into the space.

“I- I didn’t even notice. I’ll be there soon. With your muffin.” Spencer hung up before Hotch could reply. He turned back to the table the two of you had taken up.

“Did you notice that the rain had stopped?” He asked. You also looked out the window. You let out a soft chuckle.

“No, I didn’t. How long has it been done?” 

‘According to Bossman, about twenty minutes.”

“Jesus. I guess we really got lost in our own bubble there.” You supplied

‘I guess we did.” Spencer lingered. It had been years since he met someone who was able to keep his attention like that. “Would you um, would you like to get coffee again sometime?” He asked.

You couldn't fight the beaming smile that took up the bottom half of your face. “I’d love to. Dr. Reid.” 

“Okay, Yeah. Good. Umm, call me?” Spencer bumbled, reaching for the brown paper bag that held Hotch’s muffin and grabbing his satchel bag from the back of his seat.

“I will.” You lifted up the card he had given you in between your fingers. “I definitely will.”

Spencer backed out of the shop, looking at you the entire time. And only when he was out of your eyeline did he let himself celebrate. He would have to tell Morgan, this would definitely get him off his back.

You saved Spencer’s number in your phone, under Dr. Encycolpedia, and started counting down the minutes to when you’d be able to call him. You really wanted to get coffee again.

[jpitha]

Same as it ever was

"Ugh, this coffee is awful!" Daniel makes a face after he takes a sip. "What is this, hazelnut? Did the person who signed off on this flavor ever try a hazelnut in their life?"

"Come on Dan, it can't be that bad." M'erian rolled her eyes and flicked her ears.

Dan sipped it again and winced. "No, seriously Mer, if you could drink coffee I'd have you try this. It's impressively bad."

"Is that why you keep drinking it? Out of some sense of admiration for someone who could make coffee that bad?"

Dan shrugged. "It's still caffeine. There isn't anything else onboard until we reach a Starbase and resupply. Maybe some creamer will help." Dan gets up and bustles in the kitchenette. A moment later, his coffee noticeably more buff colored, Dan returns to the seat. He sips again and frowns, but is no longer wincing. "That will have to do."

M'erian sipped her tea and enjoyed her time listening to Dan complain. He did it often enough that she was thankful she found it charming instead of annoying.

While they were chatting, Uumer walked in. They were a Sefigan, from this universe, and Daniel was still surprised when he saw them. He could only describe them as looking kind of like teddy bears.

Teddy bears with retractable ten centimeter claws. They were lacquered a deep blue and highly polished.

“You are making a gesture Daniel, I recognize it from the humans in our world. What is wrong?”

“It’s his coffee” M’erian gestures “It tastes terrible.”

Uumer’s ears twitched. “Oh? You can consume caffeine? It is highly toxic for us.”

M’erian shakes her head, a human gesture. “No, but Daniel was telling me about it. It’s ‘hazelnut’ and he doesn’t like it.”

“No, it’s called hazelnut. It tastes nothing like actual hazelnuts. I think you can consume them M’erian, I’ll see if I can get some next time we’re at a station.”

"Daniel, I apologize for the quality of the coffee, it was ordered by Captain Reynolds." Universal Solvent sounded apologetic. Captain Reynolds was the previous captain on Solvent. For this trip, it was just Daniel ,M’erian, Uumer, a few more Coalition races and Solvent themselves.

Daniel made another face. “Did he like this? Or was he just trying to punish his crew?”

“I seem to recall him saying it was his favorite. I also seem to recall that most of the other human crew members brought their own coffee with them.” A tone sounded throughout the ship. “Daniel, M’erian, Uumer. I must ask you to retire to your acceleration couches on the Command Deck. I am alerting the rest of the crew as well. Maneuvers will being in one hour.”

Sighing, Daniel finished his terrible coffee, and takes the time to rinse out the cup and secure it in the cabinet. They make their way through the empty ship.

Universal Solvent is a Starjumper, one of the largest human built ships in space. Only the dozen or so colony ships built for humanity to spread out in space were larger. One of the reasons it’s so large is that their design predates the development of wormhole generators. They were originally designed to ‘jump’ between the stars at half the speed of light with passengers in hibernation and enough cargo to make the trip worthwhile. These days they all have wormhole generators installed and can link from location to location like any other craft, but they’re still seen as high status spacecraft.

And sometimes they’re the only ones that can do the job.

Like, for example, if one wanted to demonstrate a relativistic impactor to the Gren. Daniel was surprised to learn that the humans in this universe developed their version of the wormhole generator - called a Flip Drive - before they ever needed to develop relativistic flight. They don’t have Starjumpers and never needed to accelerate towards the speed of light.

After the Gren came through the Gate, they fought the humans and K’laxi on that side to a standstill. The truce was tenuous and it was decided that a demonstration was needed to remind the Gren - and the Coalition - what the humans from Daniel’s dimension could do.

Daniel thought it was all a little bit dramatic and overblown, but at least they were just going to strike a planetoid in the Gren’s system. Long range scans had indicated that it was dark and cold and wasn’t a secret base or anything. Just a large rock.

As Daniel was secured in his acceleration couch, he connected to Solvent and made sure everyone else was secure. Solvent had inertial compensators, but at the speeds they were going, even a slight error in compensation would cause damage or death to anyone outside the safety of the couch. It was a bit of work to get the Sefigans and other Coalition species to interface with the couches, but humanity’s experience with the K’laxi helped.

“Daniel, everyone is in their chairs and secure. We can begin when ready.”

Connected to Solvent, Daniel was able to look through their sensors. They were currently boosting at 2gee and running at around 75% C. “Okay Solvent. We’re going to do to links back to back, so we’ll need War Emergency Power. Do you want me to say the phrase?”

“Only if you want to Daniel. I know how to work my own reactors.”

Daniel chuckled. In the old days, Captains would order the ship AI to release War Emergency Power, which would disable all fuses and limiters to the reactors. This would give the ships a tremendous amount of power for a short amount of time. It also increased the risks of the reactors destroying themselves. These days, relations with AIs are better, and most commanders know that the ships know themselves better than the commanders do. Ordering the release of War Emergency Power is seen as a bit old fashioned. “I’m good Universal Solvent. Please use your own discretion vis a vis power.”

“Aye Daniel. I will be releasing War Emergency Power for the duration of the exercise.”

At that, Daniel could feel, rather than hear the reactors. There was this noise or feeling that set his teeth on edge. It rose in tone and intensity until it almost sounded like a whistle at the edge of hearing. Uumer reached out over the ship’s comm channel “What is that noise? Is something broken?”

“Nothing to worry about Uumer, I have removed the fuses and limiters from my reactors. I need the additional power for our maneuvers.”

“You can do that?”

“Oh yes, but the risk of critical catastrophic failure is much higher now. Once we’re done, I’ll take things back to normal.”

Uumer didn’t say anything, but Daniel could feel how impressed he was.

“Daniel, we will link in 10 seconds.”

“Thanks Solvent. Once we’re back in real space, release our impactors and drop camera beacons. We’ll then link back and begin braking.”

“Aye. 5 seconds.”

They Linked.

One of the things that humans of this dimension don’t like to mention is that while their wormhole generator is considered to be much more accurate and robust than a Flip drive, it does require quite a bit more power and also has this… side effect.

About one in one thousand people who use the drive experience something like death while they’re in between points of reality.

Humanity on this side has been dealing with it for nearly a millennium and by now is mostly used to it. Sure, it frightens folks when it first happens, but like they say, you’d be surprised what you can get used to.

In fact, it’s so commonplace that they often forget to tell people that it happens.

Uumer is on his back. He feels the warm grass and bright sun. Blinking he sits up. It looks like… home. More than that, it looks like his homeworld, or at least the descriptions of it that he’s read. He’s never been there. He’s on a wide savanna. In all directions is a sea of golden grass. As he stands, a breeze picks up and the grass undulates and moves like water. Someone approaches. Another Sefigan. “You made it!” They throw their arms forward and tumble towards him in greeting. Bewildered, but happy to see someone like him, he reciprocates the gesture, a traditional greeting. “Thank you brother, but where am i?”

The other Sefigan’s ears waggle. “Brother, you are dead.”

Uumer comes back, strapped into his acceleration couch. He blinks back tears. In the moment he’s struck by a thought. The humans keep their eyes clean this way too, they also cry. “D-Daniel.” Uumer’s voice is unsteady. “What happened?”

“Uh, we linked into Gren space Uumer. We just released the camera beacons and the impactors. We’re going to link away in a second. Can your question wait?”

“Yes.”

They link away.

When they’re back in human controlled space, Solvent begins the long deceleration process. It’ll take another month to slow back down relative to their departure and be able to link to another starbase. The camera beacons caught the demonstration perfectly. The three impactors struck the planetoid at 75% C and completely obliterated it. Supposedly the flash was seen with unaided eyes by the Green Fleet Command themselves. Publicly, they declared it an unwarranted provocation. Daniel will have to wait until they’ve come to a halt and linked home to learn what - if anything - they said privately about it.

After all the excitement calms down, Uumer goes to find Daniel. He’s back with M’erian in the lounge and they’re snuggled together watching something on his pad. “Uh, Daniel?”

Daniel looks up with a start. “Oh! Hi Uumer, what did you think of the run?”

“I uh, had a question about that actually. You know that was my first link ever?”

“Oh that’s right, you would have Flipped or FlashWarped over to the starbase.” His eyes go wide. “Oh no, did you…”

“I did Daniel. Did I actually die?” Uumer’s claws are sliding in and out of their sheaths.

“Uh well, nobody really knows. It happens to us too, and the K’laxi-“ He starts idly stroking M’erian. “-but our philosophers can’t come to an agreement about whether it’s real or not.”

“Does it happen to you?”

“No, fortunately. It’s only about one in one thousand that it happens to.”

Uumer is shaking slightly, “and you’re okay with that? With a small percentage of people dying when you use the wormhole generator?”

“Uumer. For one, they all come back. For two, most report that other than the surprise, it was a pleasant experience. And for three, we’re not about to give up on a way to shrink the distance between the stars over something like that. It’s fine.”

“Uumer, it’s a scary thing. Some people in my familiar group experience it too. But really, it’s normal here. Everyone gets used to it, and if they don’t then…” M’erian’s ears flick. “They make other arrangements. They either stick to worlds they can reach via Gate, or stay in one system, or hibernate for the trip. There are options. Especially now that you and the Coalition is here. We can see if we can work out FlashWarp technology, or build our own Flip drives.”

Uumer looks at both of them. How comfortable they look. How much they enjoy being together. He’s overcome with a flash of jealousy and disgust. His ears droop. “I thought I understood humans and that over here they’d be the same as over there. I’m beginning to wonder about that.” He turns and leaves the lounge.

M’erian and Daniel share a look. He shrugs and smiles and flicks her ears and they go back to their video.

[bendingwind]

For the Fanfic/Author Ask Game! 7. Coffee or tea while you write? Or something else or nothing at all?

9. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

17. What is something you recently felt proud of in your writing?

7. Coffee or tea while you write?

I drink one cup of coffee in the morning and almost never drink tea unless I'm at a coffee shop! I do usually have the World's Largest Water Bottle with me so maybe water counts?

9. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Deliberately writing it--when I found my first fanfic on the Mugglenet forums and was like "Wait people do this!?", but I'd been telling fanfiction stories about almost all my favorite media ever since I could remember, acting out AUs and sequels and whatever with my action figures and barbie dolls! The first fic I found was Hermione/Draco and I was fascinated. My very first fic was written sometime between the age of 9-12 (I think closer to 9) and posted on fanfiction.net. It was Ron/Hermione and maybe 500 words, and absolutely terrible. That account was banned and the fic is no longer available online, but I do have a copy of it saved on my google drive!

17. What is something you recently felt proud of in your writing?

I will answer again! I think I nailed it with the imagery in Courtship Traditions, and @magemance drew an incredible sketch of one of the scenes that I have forced every single person in my life to look at because nobody has ever drawn art of any of my fics before, let alone beautiful art!