i made gnocchi that absolutely FUCKS whoever said i was bad in the kitchen (me) can go fuck themself i can make any storebought pasta sauce go hard with only two hours, diced onions, minced garlic, diced bell peppers, a sprinkle of crushed red pepper flakes, sugar, and salt and i don’t want anyone telling me that i’m not great in the kitchen

Stress

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

This is a somewhat self-indulgent fic I decided to write this morning. Levi gets to comfort reader who's stressed out from school and an internship. Always such fun :) haha

Another long day of school, followed by hours at your internship where you got the thrill of doing all the work and reaping none of the benefits, and you finally staggered into your home, the sun having set below the horizon hours ago. Shutting the door closed behind you— metaphorically shutting away the day— you pressed your back against the door, eyes fluttering shut as you desperately tried to will away the migraine you could feel coming on at the base of your skull.

Fuck, could this day get any worse?

Tears pricked at the back of your eyelids, long having since wondered if any of this was even worth it at this point. Half the time you thought you’d made the wrong choices, picked the wrong path, yet here you were, continuing to truck along, because that was what you were supposed to do. Without having realized, the purse you’d been holding had slipped from your hand to land with a gentle thump on the floor.

The memory of the day flickered across your mind, remembering all the ways you’d apparently screwed up, your asshole of a supervisor never hesitating to remind you of that. Yet she always seemed to forget the way you made sure her files were always neatly organized in the proper drawers, the way you were always on time, never late, always willing to stay late when she needed you. The way your notes were careful and methodical, documenting as much of her time spent with clients as possible.

No. None of that she gave a shit about. She simply seemed hell-bent on pointing out each and every blunder you made.

‘You fucked up big time with that client. How you've gotten this far in your career and education, I haven't a clue. Go get me some coffee. Maybe that, you won’t screw up.’

It wasn’t that you minded criticism. No. You welcomed it. But there was a difference between constructive criticism meant to help you improve, and criticism meant to tear you down.

And you were doing all of this for an overpriced piece of paper that you weren’t even sure was worth it anymore.

Is this something I even want to do anymore?

Sighing, you pushed yourself off the door, wincing at the pull of your back. Sitting all day with shitty posture put a strain on your back, and it had you rubbing at the muscles as you made your way into your tiny kitchen. More tears flooded into your eyes at the sight sitting before you in the warm, dim light of the room.

There at the table was a steaming hot plate of your favorite dish, and you can’t help but drool at the sight of the bowtie pasta topped with the bolognese sauce. It was a meal that always brought you comfort, it having been the first thing he’d made you on that first date so long ago. Beside it, a simple glass of freshly squeezed lemonade, a couple of aspirin, and one of his notes he often left sitting around for you to find.

Oh, how that glorious man spoiled you to no end.

You picked up the note and unfolded it, a few tears trickling down your cheeks at the words.

‘Hey, don’t forget I love you.’

Sniffling, a weak, watery laugh spilled out of you at the simple little note. He may not be one for grand gestures and words of poetry, but fuck, the things he did had your heart pitter-pattering in your chest. As if you could ever forget. The man may be shit at verbalizing his emotions, but each and every day he made sure he showed you in some way that he loved you.

Making sure you had at least one hot, home-cooked meal a day, knowing the rest of your day was spent grabbing whatever was fastest.

Doing your laundry for you when you were bogged down with assignments for school, with work your supervisor forced you to take home to finish.

Taking you to your favorite spots on days where you had a little free time, the ones that held the most cherished memories for you.

Hugging you.

Kissing you.

Letting you cuddle up against him on the couch.

The fact that he did any of that even though he was also busy with his own job as a software engineer, was something so heartwarming, something only a man like Levi would do. His position was demanding, full of responsibilities, but he always made sure he made time for you, to take care of you.

Hearing a noise coming from the hall, you spun on your heel to watch as he entered the kitchen, your eyes filling with adoration for the stoic man stepping through the entryway. It stumped you sometimes, the way you’d been able to capture his heart, to break through the walls that had been erected around him, finally finding that soft and sweet interior you knew had existed.

He paused mid-step when he glanced up from his phone— most likely checking for messages from you— eyes widening when he realized you were already there.

“Oh you’re back already? Damn, I thought you were going to be a bit later. The soufflé isn’t quite done yet, but—”

The rest of his words are cut off as his breath huffed out of him at the force of you slamming into him, wrapping your arms tight around him. Burying your face into his neck, the trembles hit your body before you can stop them, breath hitching at the way his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you close against him.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m right here.”

See, that right there was another way of him reminding you he loved you. Simply telling you that he was there for you never failed to have your heart flipping in your chest the way it did in that moment. His voice might be gruff, but the underlying tones of affection were there, and only ever for you, and it had another shudder hitting you.

As always, he held you without resistance, for as long as you needed, another way he showed you. It had taken you time to learn to speak the language of Levi Ackerman, but now? Now you knew, and you read him with ease, could pick up each and every nuance, each twitch of his brow, the quirks of his lips, everything he did that was a clue to what he felt and thought. His heart was held in the palms of your hands, in the most delicate of ways, just as yours was with him.

He pulled back a touch to kiss the top of your head, tucking his knuckles beneath your chin to draw your gaze to his, and swiping away stray tears with his thumb.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up and changed while I finish up in here?”

Nodding you leaned up to peck at his lips before making your way into your bedroom, stripping yourself of your clothes and tossing them into the hamper, your shoes placed neatly on the rack in the closet before changing into some comfy clothes and thick socks. Almost immediately, you felt a weight lift off of you, just from the simple act of removing the fabric you’d worn for the day, as if you’d been removing the events of the day with them.

Throwing your hair into a quick braid, you scurried back out, the smell of the food drawing a fierce rumble from your stomach. When you tried to help him finish, he waved you off, telling you to sit down and relax.

That’s how it usually went with him. He refused help when he sensed your day had been rougher than normal, no matter how much you insisted, not until he felt that you were at ease, relaxed, and taken care of. So you relented, settling in at the table, ravishly digging into the meal, slowly feeling more and more at ease. He sat in the chair next to yours with his own plate of food, and for several moments, the only sounds filling the room were the clinking of forks against the plates.

That was something else special about Levi. He always waited for you to eat, wanting at least one meal where the two of you could spend time together, enjoy each other’s company. It didn’t matter the time. Early afternoon, late evening, early night, no. He didn’t care at all, so long as you ate together. Another reminder of how much he cared for you.

When you’d finished, you leaned back in your chair, a satisfied smile filling your face at how his simple care had made you feel better, the aspirin not even needed as the headache faded on its own. Not having realized your eyes had fluttered closed, you started when he took your hand in his, linking your fingers together. You turned your head to meet his eyes, and your heart flipped in your chest at the affection you see in his, the dim kitchen light making his hair appear darker, and you couldn't help the way your free hand combed through the bangs flopping over his forehead, moving to cup the side of his face.

“You don’t have to do this, you know?”

Without even needing clarification, you knew what he was referring to. It was something he reminded you of regularly, reminding you that he would support you no matter what, that you didn’t have to continue on if you no longer wanted, that you would both figure things out together. You don’t know what you’d done to deserve him, but like hell would you ever let him go.

Tears prick your eyes once more, though gentler this time, and not from the stress of the day. “I know, baby...I want to do this.”

Because at the end of the day, this was something you truly wanted for yourself. You wanted to be able to look back and say, I kept going, and I finished. Even if it wasn’t the right path for you, you wanted the satisfaction that came with that overpriced piece of paper.

And that was all the reassurance he needed as he leaned in to graze his lips across your forehead, drawing a content sigh from you. He was your rock, and he was all you needed to make it through each and every day.

Timed perfectly, he pulled the soufflés out of the oven, setting them down in front of the both of you. His is a tart lemon, yours is a decadent chocolate and you can’t help but moan in delight at the richness that hits your taste buds as you devour the desert. Enjoying each other’s company, the two of you sit in companionable silence as you enjoy the delicious dessert he’d made.

Once finished, he rose to clear away the dishes, though this time you insist on helping, refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer. Sensing that you were more relaxed, he relented, the chore passing by faster with the two of you working together...him washing and you drying of course.

With the dishes out of the way, the two of you were free to end the night in the way you both enjoyed best, cuddling on the couch with your legs swung over his lap, his arm around your shoulders holding you close. As he always did, he’d tossed a throw blanket over the two of you before flicking on the tv, selecting the next episode of the latest tv show you were indulging in together.

It was the perfect end to a shitty day, one that helped you keep going.

Back to Fluff/Comfort Menu

DinCobb Week Day 3: New Experiences (SFW)

for @dincobbweek a lil bit of ENBY!Cobb

AO3 Link

see me not as i am (but who i wish to be)

The first time they felt envy for another was when they were eighteen—still an owned individual, still a slave, still a man in a sense.

Their owner’s wife had returned from shopping in Mos Eisley, in the richer districts Cobb themself couldn’t go to.

They watched as the lady’s handmaids took her dresses out to hang them properly, and for a moment then, Cobb wondered what it would be like to feel that fabric against their skin, to see how the dress would drape over their body. How it would hide their broad shoulders. How it might make them seem smaller and more dainty. Just everything that wasn’t them at that point in time of their life.

They would never go anywhere near the lady or her dresses. That wasn’t their purpose in the household at that time. They wouldn’t have any time to explore that part of themself until years and years later. After they fought for their freedom and fought for the lives of others. Until the story of their life showed on their body in rigid muscles and myriad of scars and scar tissue.

They live the life of Mos Pelgo’s Marshal. A beloved and feared figure who means to protect and serve the citizens who call this dusty little place home. They seem to know, however, that their Marshal is more than just what they appear to be. It’s easy for them to see that outside of their role as Marshal, that Cobb Vanth is a soft spoke individual. Who smiles easily and dotes after the kids in town like they’re their own. Who holds themself not like the Marshal in their off hours, but someone approachable.

What the town comes to realize is that their Marshal is not a man. Cobb doesn’t think of themself as a man. They know themselves as Cobb first and foremost and then the Marshal. The Marshal has required them to be more than themselves. More imposing. Louder. Stronger. And they’ve enjoyed it. Being the Marshal has given them a sense of strength and power in a way. But when the Mandalorian arrives in town, things begin to change.

The deal is worth it. To trade the armour for killing the krayt and brokering a peace agreement between Mos Pelgo and the neighbouring Tuskens. But even then, it’s not the Mandalorian’s ability to delegate that draws Cobb to him. It’s his openness, his accepting nature.

“Town’s people think a lot of you,” he says in that soft timbre of his.

“Been their Marshal for a while now.”

“They think highly of you. I’ve also learned that they refer to you as they. Do you prefer that as well?”

Cobb looks to him, partially in shock because not many people ask. For the town’s people, it’s habit. For outsiders? Cobb hasn’t really cared to explain that part of themselves to outsiders. They don’t see the point in it, and most don’t care to know, but the Mandalorian, he’s different.

“I do,” is all Cobb says on the matter.

The Mandalorian nods once, then says, “I never introduced myself properly to you.”

“Wasn’t exactly a situation where introduction were required.”

“Still, I’d like you to know me. My name is Din.”

Cobb nods. “Nice to have it.”

They work well together, Cobb thinks. They move in sync. They’re able to anticipate what the other is thinking, and through it all, Cobb thinks about how they’ve never connected to someone else so well before.

But then it’s all over. They’re handing over the armour. Din is heading away with the Child, and Cobb will be left in Mos Pelgo to put everything back together.

Without the armour and now with the established peace between their people and the Tuskens, Cobb finds their workload to be significantly less than what it once was. They realize they’re spending more time helping out in homesteads, filling in for the school teacher, and less of the patrolling they used to do. They have more free time on their hands. They can relax and think of themselves for the first time in a long time.

They find themselves looking in their bathroom mirror running a hand over their beard in the mirror. It’s overgrown some. They haven’t considered touching it in days and now . . .

They grab their razor and begin to shave it off, leaving their face clean shaven for the first time in years. They’ve forgotten how sharp their cheekbones are and the point of their chin. It makes them look different without facial hair. Like a new person almost.

Jo notices when they meet up for coffee later that morning. “Shaving accident?”

They smile wryly. “Nah. Just needed a change.”

“Might want to double up on sunscreen then.”

They settle into their life more as Mayor of Mos Pelgo rather than Marshal these days. They start growing out their hair a bit. They start looking at new cuts of clothing whenever they happen upon a seller in Anchorhead or Mos Eisley.

And then one day, the Mandalorian Din shows up on his doorstep looking for a place to stay.

Cobb can’t deny him, and so ends up with Din sitting in their living room after being gone for months.

“I had nowhere else to go,” he says. “I figured . . .” He looks to Cobb with a certain naked vulnerability without his helmet on. His eyes are impossibly brown, deep and warm.

“You’d always be welcomed here.”

Din nods. “Thank you.”

The build up of their relationship is a slow and gentle affair. They’re both older people, Cobb pushing into their fifties and Din edging further into his forties. But they know each other and they know what they want, so it’s easier to fit together, to bring their lives together.

“I like your hair,” Din says one night when they’re in bed together. He raises a hand to tuck a lock behind Cobb’s ear. Then his fingers drift down Cobb’s jaw. “It looks good on you long.”

“I’ve always wanted to try it longer,” Cobb muses. “Never had the space to.”

“It’s nice.” Din presses a kiss to their forehead, and Cobb falls asleep with Din’s fingers in their hair.

It’s with Din’s constant and gentle support that Cobb garners up the courage to say one day, “Do you think I’d look good in a dress?”

Din looks up from where he’s repairing one of his vambraces at the table while Cobb finishes dinner. “Do you have one?”

They shake their head. “I’ve thought about it, but.”

“We should head into town tomorrow then. See what they have.”

Din is looking at them from the table, nothing but that open and accepting look he always has when it comes to Cobb.

“Okay.”

Mos Eisley hasn’t fallen into disrepair like Mos Espa has, and now as a free person, Cobb is free to visit those higher end clothing stalls and shops like the lady of the house once did decades ago. There’s a lot to look through and choose from. Different colours, different textures, different cuts. They choose something that’s practical for their day to day life. It’s long, down to their ankles, but of a flowy material that won’t trap any heat. The sleeves cut just above their elbows. There’s a vee cut in the front, and the colour is a soft cream. They buy that for themselves and notice that Din makes a purchase himself, but won’t tell them what it is.

“Later,” he says, so they trust him.

They first try on their dress at home when it’s just them and Din ad they’ve seen to their work for the day.

Din is back up on the bed, looking at Cobb in admiration as they strip down to their briefs and pull out their dress. It feels like relief as the fabric falls over their shoulders and down past their hips until it hangs around their ankles. They run their hands down over their chest and torso and down to their hips before looking in the mirror.

“Oh.”

The dress sort of shifts their shape a bit. From how it hangs on their hips it pulls away from their broad shoulders. It makes them look more feminine, makes them feel it as well.

Then they turn to Din, feeling how it swishes at their ankles.

Din is wide eyed and speechless at first, his eyes roving over Cobb’s body and the dress. “You’re, you look.” He runs a hand over his mouth and then sits up on the bed. “Can I . . . touch you?”

Cobb nods. “Please.”

Din stands and moves in to gently set his hands on Cobb’s waist. He’s always had big hands, but like this it makes Cobb feel even slighter, like he could pick them up easily.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

They hum and run their hands over his shoulders. “I feel good. Nothing different, but good.”

Din smiles. “I’m glad.” And he leans in for a kiss.

They don’t learn about Din’s purchase for a while yet, and they nearly forget about it until much later when they’re stepping into the bedroom after a long shower and seeing it on the bed.

They come up to Din as he cooks in the kitchen, hugging him from behind until he asks, “What’s brought this on?” And as he looks over his shoulder he sees it. Sees the red strap of it where the silky dress hangs off of Cobb’s body with its slit up the leg.

“Saw your little gift,” they say.

“I just, it’s not like.”

They kiss his cheek when they see his blush on their cheeks. “I love it.”

Din turns in their arms so he can fully see the dress on them, the thin straps, the thin material.

“You look good in red,” he says.

“Don’t I know it, darlin’.”

layers (like onions)

Random idea of the day that wouldn’t leave me alone; this little future fic. And it’s not like we can’t all use some more Harringrove fluff, right? Can also be found over on AO3.

- - -

Sadie is having the absolutely worst first day at work, and the lunch rush isn't even over yet.

It had started with the fancy coffee maker spitting steam at her when she’d tried to show her new co-worker that she understood how to use it, burning the back of her hand and her wrist. Then the trash bag she’d been carrying to the dumpster out back had ripped, spilling all over her feet and the kitchen floor, so she’d spent fifteen minutes cleaning up while apologising profusely.

And to top it all off, her first table hadn’t tipped at all, even though Sadie had pulled out all the stops, been all friendly smiles and polite small-talk despite the total shitshow her morning had turned out to be.  

Things don’t look much better with her current table, either.

So far, they’ve yelled across the restaurant for her when she hadn’t been fast enough with their drinks, demanded three additional baskets of the complimentary bread, one of them won’t stop making gross comments whenever she has to walk by, and by the look on one of the men’s faces right now, they aren’t happy with their food, either.

Forced smile firmly in place, Sadie approaches their table, ignoring the urge to roll her eyes when one of them clicks his fingers at her.

Before she can so much as ask what seems to be the problem, the scowling man snaps, “This burger has onions on it.”

“Yes, sir,” Sadie tries, summoning up patience only acquired through years of waitressing, “all our burgers come with tomatoes, pickles, and onions—”

“Well, I don’t like onions,” the man says, slowly, glaring up at Sadie. “I didn’t want any onions.”

“Of course, sir, I’m so sorry,” Sadie apologises, instead of demanding, like she really wants to, “Then why the hell did you order a dish with onions in it?”

(Watch out for the break!)

She pulls her notepad out of her pocket, quickly scribbling down an order for a replacement burger, and underlining the no onions three times. “I’ll put a new order in for you right away, sir. Would you like me to add a side dish as well? Free of charge, of course, as an—”

“No, no,” the man cuts in, and throws the burger he’d been holding down hard enough that it slips off his plate, and falls apart on the table. Which only appears to make him angrier. “Look at this mess. I want you to clean this up, and then I want to speak with whoever’s in charge here.”

The two other men nod, clearly not only used to their friend’s behaviour, but actively encouraging it. “Get to it, sweetheart,” one of them demands, making Sadie bite the inside of her cheek, “before all of our food goes cold.”

“Certainly, sirs,” Sadie scrapes the ruined burger off the table, waving over one of the busboys, “I’ll take care of this right away.”

Despite her words, after putting in the order for the new, onion-free burger, Sadie leans against the wall in the kitchen for a moment, breathing out heavily as she tries to compose herself. The line cook shoots her a sympathetic look, and Sadie smiles back shakily, grateful for the silent support.

Her boss’ office is one floor up, and Sadie isn’t too proud to sneak behind the bar, and make her way to the stairwell where she hopefully won’t be spotted by anyone from her table.

It’s quiet, once the door closes behind her, the voices of the guests and the sounds of the restaurant muffled, and Sadie swallows hard as she starts up the stairs. She’s seen her boss a grand total of thirty seconds so far, when he’d breezed in earlier, with a small child in each arm, a phone clutched between his shoulder and ear, and a frown on his face, while her co-workers had been showing her the ropes.

Mr Hargrove had been supposed to be the one to interview her, last week, but instead, Sadie’d been greeted by his business partner. He’d shaken her hand, smiling brightly, and introduced himself as, “Steven Harrington, but please, call me Steve, everyone does,” before explaining, all sheepishly, that Mr Hargrove was usually the one talking to the new hires, but that he’d unfortunately been called away on short notice.

He’d offered Sadie coffee, and had gotten her a glass of water instead when she’d declined, before dropping down in the swivel chair on the opposite side of the desk, picking up Sadie’s resume with a hum. “I’ll be honest, here, I don’t usually deal with this side of the business,” he’d said, chuckling a little to himself, “but if Billy’s invited you here for an in-person interview, chances are high he’s already decided to hire you. He can be picky.”

It had been said with a sigh, half annoyed and half fond. “So,” Steve had put the resume down again, and shrugged at Sadie, “if you’re still interested, and if the hours and pay you’ve talked about over the phone work for you, I don’t see a reason why you can’t start next Friday.”

Sadie had blinked at him, stunned, and then scrambled to sign the contract. Flexible hours, two free meals per shift, decent insurance, and paying slightly above minimum wage? It had been everything a struggling student like her could hope for, and then some.

Now, faced with the prospect of having to tell her boss that she’s screwing up on her very first shift, Sadie wishes she was anywhere but here. Still, she steels herself, takes a deep breath, and knocks on Mr Hargrove’s office door.

A moment later, a gruff voice calls back, “Come in.”

Mr Hargrove is sat behind his desk, one eyebrow raised, and Sadie hesitates, standing awkwardly on the threshold. The kids—definitely Mr Hargrove’s, going by their wild, curly hair—are playing on a blanket in front of the small couch, where Steve is sitting with a laptop open on his lap.

He smiles and waves at Sadie, which gives her the confidence to clear her throat, and say, “One of the guests would like to talk to you, Mr Hargrove.”

When Mr Hargrove only raises his eyebrow further, she adds, “He ordered a burger with onions, but says he doesn’t like onions. I offered him a new burger with a free side dish, but, well.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Mr Hargrove mutters, which earns him a scolding look from Steve, followed by a stern, “Language, Billy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mr Hargrove says, with a small roll of his eyes. He gets up from behind his desk, gesturing for Sadie to lead the way. “C’mon, let’s go deal with this shit.”

He’s obviously not happy about the interruption, but Sadie’s glad to notice that his irritation seems to be aimed at the picky guest, not her. The cursing also helps, strangely enough, has her bite back a giggle as they walk back down to the main floor.

Mr Hargrove looks intimidating, at first glance, what with all the tattoos, the denim, and the heavy jewellery. Like those bikers always parked in front of the shady bar a block down from her shitty, shoebox-sized apartment. Only, like, prettier.

Sadie ducks her head a little, blushing faintly. Mr Hargrove has to be in his thirties, is almost old enough to be her dad, and Sadie isn’t even interested in men like that, but she does have eyes. The blond curls, piled into a messy bun on top of his head, the dimples, the striking, bright blue eyes; Mr Hargrove is definitely good-looking.

Frannie would have a field day if she knew Sadie was getting flustered by her old, cranky new boss. Sadie silently vows to never tell her girlfriend a single word about it, ever.

“It’s the booth in the back,” she says, once they reach the main room of the restaurant again, pointing in the general direction, “by the big window—”

Mr Hargrove freezes mid-step when he spots the three men, but only for a second. Then he sneers, teeth bared, “Hell no.”

He stalks over to the booth, fast enough that Sadie has to hurry in order to keep up, and slaps the fork right out of one of the men’s hand with a snarled, “Get the fuck out of my restaurant.”

The men at the table—and a few people within earshot—fall silent in shock, all gaping at Mr Hargrove. Then, the now forkless man pushes to his feet, and right into Mr Hargrove’s space. “William—”

Mr Hargrove doesn’t back down, though, and he has several inches on the other man. “Get out. Right now, all of you. You’re not welcome here.”

The other man’s face twists in outrage. “How dare you speak to me like this? You can’t throw us out, we’re paying customers!”

“Oh, trust me,” Mr Hargrove’s smile is, Sadie thinks, pretty damn terrifying, “I can. And I will.”

“On what grounds?” the other man scoffs, and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, let’s see. For harassing my staff,” Mr Hargrove begins, and holds up his hand, counting on his fingers, “or, maybe, the years of emotional abuse? For regularly beating the shit outta me for close to a decade? Or for just generally being a terrible fucking human being, and an even worse father?”

The restaurant is so quiet, after that, Sadie’s almost afraid to breathe.

“Take your pick,” Mr Hargrove finishes, and takes a step back with a sweeping motion towards the door. “But get the fuck out, Neil. Or we will call the police.”

“Honestly, I’d love to see that,” comes Steve’s voice from by the bar. He’s holding the phone, wiggling the receiver when everyone turns to look at him. “Your choice.”

“You—” Mr Hargrove’s father starts, but is wisely interrupted by one of his friends standing up as well, and putting a hand on his elbow with a disgusted, “Leave it be, Neil. The little faggot’s not worth the trouble.”

There are several gasps from the other customers, but Mr Hargrove seems unfazed. Almost amused, actually. “At least my faggot ass can keep a family together. Ginny was, wait, let me think? Wive number five? How’s the divorce going, by the way?”

“Okay, that’s enough!”

If Sadie’d thought Mr Hargrove looked scary, it’s nothing compared to an angry Steven Harrington, apparently.

“You’ve got one minute to get your shit, and get the hell out. Everyone else,” and now he’s all charm again, looking around the restaurant at the shamelessly watching customers, “free pie, for having had to witness this little display of homophobic bullshittery.”

Mr Hargrove takes it upon himself to escort the men out of the restaurant, while Steve goes around apologising for what’s happened. Sadie shakes herself out of her stupor, and follows Steve in order to jot down everyone who’s interested in the free pie.

Before she can head back to the kitchen, though, Steve stops her and asks, quiet enough that only she catches it, “Hey. Are you okay?”

“That was,” Sadie breathes out, then trails off with a helpless shake of her head.

“Not a great first impression on our part?” Steve chuckles, wry smile on his lips. “Why don’t you take a break? Get a slice of pie, too? We got it handled out here.”

Sadie accepts the offer gratefully.

And the pie is delicious.

“Billy’s a fuckin’ master with anything even vaguely dessert related, man,” the line cook tells her, when she moans around her first forkfull. At her hum of surprise, he laughs, and adds, “Yeah, he still does most of the bakin’, even though he’s the boss man nowadays. Ask him for his lava cake recipe, it’s fuckin’ sick.”

The rest of the day is, thankfully, much less stressful.

Sadie gets to leave on time, and slips out the back door with a cheerful, “Goodbye!” thrown over her shoulder, only to stumble to a stop when she nearly bumps right into Mr Hargrove. And Steve. Because they’re standing very close, with Steve’s arm around Mr Hargrove’s shoulders, and his chin resting on top of Mr Hargrove’s head.

Mr Hargrove blinks one eye open at her, but doesn’t move out of the hug. “You good? Sorry ‘bout, you know. All that shit earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, uh,” Sadie stutters, feeling herself blush again, “don’t worry, all good. Thanks.”

“Have a nice night,” Steve says, with another one of those sincere smiles. “See you tomorrow.”

Sadie nods. “Tomorrow. Goodnight!”

She carefully steps around the kids, who are racing each other through the alley, shrieking with excitement. She’s almost by the bike rack when there’s a crash, followed by a warbling cry, and a distinctly toddlery voice going, “Shit!”

“Billy, I swear—”

“C’mon, Stevie, it’s not my fault they—”

Sadie rides off, not bothering to hide her laughter.

(When she comes in the next day, Mr Hargrove is waiting for her. He apologises, again, and introduces himself properly.

“Billy, please,” he insists, grimacing a little. “Mr Hargrove is my father, and, well. You saw that whole shitshow yesterday.”

Then he shows her how to use the coffee machine without getting burned, before Steve calls for him from upstairs. He’s almost through the door when he turns back around, eyes flickering down to the collar of her shirt with a small but genuine smile.

Sadie watches him go, ghosting her fingers over the small rainbow pin Frannie had proudly stuck on her shirt earlier that morning.

She’s pretty sure she’s going to like this job after all.)

A Real-Life Disney Prince: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Reader reminds Chris that he is, in fact, a real-life Disney Prince.

A/N: Hello friends! I am so excited for this because it’s my first time writing for Chris Evans! I may not talk about him as much but I LOOOOOOOVE him! He is an absolute cutie and I love him with my whole heart! I may or may not have had to watch The First Avenger for inspiration but it’s fine! I hope everyone likes this one; please leave feedback!

Warnings: A bit of sadness and missing someone but LOTS of fluff! 

Word Count: 1,966

Marvel Masterlist| Masterlist of all Masterlists

Requests are open! Feedback welcome! Tag list requests open!

Almost every little girl longs to be a princess and since the 1920s, Disney has been the mastermind behind the world of princesses. They knew how to capture the attention of girls young and old from around the world, on what being a princess is all about. Over the decades, however, these ideals change. More and more skin tones, backgrounds, and cultural influences have changed these princesses. Not every princess desires to fall in love with prince charming, has the influence of magical singing animals or fairy godmothers to guide them on how to be a princess. Now, there are stories of real-life stories of struggles to conquering them that draw a vaster group of individuals. Anyone from any background can be represented in films and that is overall, the greatest representation of the human race. Is it perfect? Absolutely not. Are there ways representation needs to change? Of course! But you need to start somewhere and now the tables are turning.

Never in a million years did you think you’d find yourself with one of these ‘princes.’ Sure, you believed in love and believed in a happily ever after of sorts, but what you didn’t know, was you’d have your own version of Prince Charming. He came in the form of an actor; tall, handsome, bright blue eyes. He was brilliant when he stood in front of a camera, immediately capturing your attention. Hailing from Boston and taking the world by storm with his one recurring role, he won the world over and took his character into the real world. With all different movies under his belt, how did you manage to date someone like him? Well, it wasn’t something you’d ever expected; isn’t that when they say you find ‘the one?’ Your story, however, is nothing close to traditional but that is what makes it interesting.

“Hey, (y/n), I know I said I was supposed to be coming home soon, but they asked me to stay on set longer. I know, we had plans and I am sorry for having to cancel them. I feel like a shitty boyfriend and you deserve to be treated so much better, but I promise, as soon as I get home, I am all yours. I love you,”

Your boyfriend left a voice message on your phone, leaving some of the worst news you can imagine; he wasn’t going to make it home. At this point, you were really surprised he was canceling because his demand as an actor was through the roof, but you never wanted to stand in the way of his job, something you knew he was passionate about. Dating Chris Evans was no easy task but you knew that when you agreed to go out with him. You’d been friends for a few years before he finally admitted he had felt more than friendship for you. His schedule though, was constantly changing and it was hard for you to keep up with, but even being in the beginning stages of your relationship, you knew he was special and worth the time.

You sigh, disappointed that he wasn’t coming back yet, so you gather up your things and load them into your car. You had plans to spend a week with him at his place in Boston, as he would take you around and show you where he grew up. But now, you figured that wasn’t the best idea so you packed up and went to stay at your best friend’s apartment. When she heard about the new of Chris, she offered you a place to stay, in hopes that would take your mind off the disappointment you felt. He spent so much time at your place, that everything there, reminds you of him. Thinking it was the best decision for you, you agreed and were now on your way to your friend’s house.

“They, thanks Angela for letting me stay here for a bit,” you say as Angela opens the doors and lets you inside, hugging you before you had a chance to put your bags down.

“Oh, of course! I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you right now. I know you were looking forward to Chris coming home and going to Boston with him. But he’ll be home soon; I have a good feeling,” she said, helping you settle into your shared room.

“I hope so,” you say, not knowing Angela was absolutely right.

A few days had passed and you did everything in your power to keep yourself busy. Anything to keep Chris off your mind, you’d do it, but it was no easy task. In a short period of time, he had become the most important person in your life and he took over every thought in your mind. You kept busy with work and when you weren’t working, you spent your free time cleaning around the apartment and volunteering in your community. Ultimately, your attempts failed; he was always on your mind. At least you kept yourself busy. A week-and-a-half had gone by, and Angela said she had a surprise for you.

“What are you planning?” You ask, questioning your friend the next morning at breakfast.

“Not me, well sort of me, I helped a friend plan something, but I can’t say what it is,” she rambled for a minute, causing you to laugh at the way her words ran together.

“Whoa, whoa, take an easy, Angela, one word at a time! Now, this surprise, what do I have to do?” You ask, tilting your head to the side like a puppy.

“All you need to do is stay in today; don’t go out,” she says.

“What? But I had plans to get my nails done and go to lunch with my Mom!” You whine, not believing what she was asking of you.

“It’s okay, I canceled your appointment twenty-four hours ago and called your Mom to reschedule lunch,” Angela said.

“Why do I need to stay at home? What’s going on?” You ask, now really questioning what was happening.

“All good things to those who wait,” Angela says, winking at you. That was odd; she knew that was something Chris always says so why was she saying it now?

She had left the room to get herself ready for her day, before leaving for the day. Oh, so she could go out but you couldn’t? As angry as you were, you had to put that all aside. You could definitely use a day off since you’d been busying yourself with not thinking about Chris. Deciding to take Angela’s advice, you stayed in your pajamas and cooked up some food for breakfast. However, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking of Chris. He loves breakfast and loved having lazy days at home with you and Dodger.

After you finished eating, your emotions of the last week-and-a-half, got the better of you. Another message from Chris was left on your phone.

“Hi babe, I miss you. I was just thinking about you today, well every day really. It’s been too long since I’ve seen that pretty face of yours or held you in my arms and the thought of all those things, is what is keeping me going right now. I’ll be home before you know it; I promise. I love you.”

At a few months of the relationship, Chris admitted first that he loved you. Normally, you wouldn’t jump to those three little words so soon but you had known Chris for monger than you two had been dating and you knew from the very start, that you loved him. Grabbing some blankets and pillows from your room, you head into the living room, wrapping a blanket around you and a few pillows for you to lie on, and spread out on the couch. With the remote in your hand, you switch to Disney+ to find a movie. Seeing the tabs at the top of the screen of the movie collections, your heart breaks momentarily but you go along with your plan. The tab? Marvel. You scroll through all the Marvel films and land on one of your favorites with a great performance from Chris; Captain America: The First Avenger. Where we were introduced to Steve Rodgers and Captain America for the very first time. Just as the movie was reaching a vital part, a knock on the door interrupted your attention. You groan at whoever was crazy enough to interrupt you in the middle of a movie, you unwrap yourself from the cocoon you made for yourself and answer the door.

“Oh my God,” you say, unbelieving who you were seeing before you with a bouquet of roses in his arm.

“Ah, there’s my girl,” Chris said, smirking at your surprised facial expression.

Without another spoken word, you throw yourself into his waiting arms, the flowers dropping to the ground at your feet. He holds you tight and spins you around as you bury your face in his shoulder. He was right; it was too long since you two saw the other. It wasn’t until you were both inside that he set you back down, and he took the empty space of the couch next to you.

“What are you doing home so soon?” You ask, surprised to see your boyfriend sitting beside you.

“I finished my time on set. They said I could go home so I jumped on the next plane out and here I am,” he says, smiling at you. “I am so glad I am home to my girl.”

“I can’t believe you’re here, Chris. I missed you so much,” you say, scooting over on the couch and cuddling into his side. His arms find their way back to you so you nuzzle your head on his chest.

“Oh, so we’re watching me, huh?” He jokes, seeing the movie had been stopped on a shot of him in full patriotic uniform.

“Oh no, we can turn that off. I have something better we can watch.” Fishing for the remote that somehow lodged itself deep in the couch cushions, you turned off Captain America and found another Disney movie; Beauty and the Beast.

“So, I see, this is what you want to watch,” he says more as a question than a statement.

“Yeah, because I think our story is similar to Belle and Beast,” you state.

“So, you think I’m a big hairy monster?” He jokes and you laugh.

“No, I don’t think that! But you are a real-life Disney Prince you know?”

“I am?” He asks, genuinely wondering about what you meant.

“Yeah! Because you did films for Marvel for what, 10 years or so? And you were a leading character too! And since Marvel is owned by Disney, then, you are a Disney prince,”

He stopped for a minute to think about your comparison, and then smiled to himself.

“You know what, you’re right. I guess I’ve been living out a childhood dream for a long time now. Thanks for making me realize it,” he said, leaving a lingering kiss on your lips.

“So, how long are you home for?” You ask, afraid of his answer.

“Until the next project comes up. I don’t know when that’ll be but right now, I want to enjoy every minute with my girl,” he says, rubbing a thumb across his shoulder.

“Well, I hope you don’t have to go anytime soon; I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby. And we still have our trip to Boston coming up and I have quite a few surprises up my sleeve,” he says winking at you.

“I can’t wait,” you say.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Chris,” you say, cuddling back into him and enjoying the movie with your own Disney Prince.

Taglist: @tloveswriting​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @to-my-beloved-fandoms-2​ @damn-stark​ @lunalovecroft​ @calaofnoldor​ @angeredcrow​ @marvelfansworld​ @440mxs-wife​ @hobby27​ @lovabletomholland​

Anime i’ve Watched

That begin with a K (Part 2)!

Yep this is how i’m going to bring over all the anime and manga i’ve watched and posted about on the old blog. It’s not so detailed but it will have to do. Anything new I watch or read from this point on will have their own posts.

Karneval

Genres: action, fantasy, josei, mystery, sci-fi

Synopsis:  While in search of his precious friend, a young boy named Nai falls captive to a beautiful woman, whose looks are matched only by her taste for human flesh. Meanwhile Gareki, a clever thief, is in the midst of robbing her luxurious home. After causing a distraction, Gareki agrees to help Nai escape, but they are discovered upon the woman's return. As she transforms into a ghoulish monster, the boys flee. On the run, Nai and Gareki are found by "Circus," a government defense agency that deals with criminal activity too difficult for the police to handle and protects civilians from "varuga"—terrible monsters that devour humans for sustenance. In the hope that it will lead Nai to his missing friend, he and Gareki decide to join Circus. On their perilous journey, they face dangerous varuga and begin to uncover the secrets behind a shadowy organization known as Kafka. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7/10

Finished airing in 2013 with a total of 13 episodes. 

My Thoughts: Love the character design and I was interested in the story but the series is far too short. I’d suggest you go read the manga (which is farther along) but it’s rarely updated so I can’t confidently say it’s worth the read. Your choice is read/ watch this and suffer alongside me with the lack of updates or erase its existence from your mind. Your call! 

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru (Run with the Wind)

Genres: comedy, sports, drama

Synopsis:  Former ace runner of Sendai Josei High School, Kakeru Kurahara is chased away from a convenience store for shoplifting. Shaking off his pursuer, he runs into Haiji Kiyose, another student from his university. Haiji is impressed by Kakeru's agility and persuades him to live in Chikusei-sou, the run-down apartment where Haiji resides along with eight other students. Having lost his entire apartment deposit at a mahjong parlor, Kakeru accepts the offer reluctantly. However, Haiji reveals a secret during Kakeru's welcoming party: the apartment is actually the dormitory of the Kansei University Track Club. He unveils his ultimate goal of participating in the Hakone Ekiden—one of the most prominent university marathon relay races in Japan. Unfortunately, all the residents apart from Haiji and Kakeru are complete running novices. Worse still, none of the inhabitants are even remotely interested in being involved with Haiji's ridiculous plan! With only months before the deadline, will the fourth-year student be able to convince them otherwise and realize his elusive dream of running in the Hakone Ekiden? [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 10/10

Finished airing in 2019 with a total of 23 episodes. 

My Thoughts: This was a masterpiece in my opinion, an anime I won’t soon forget and one of the best of its season without a doubt! Good stuff right here and not in a high school setting which is a change of pace for a sports anime! A very satisfying anime that I highly recommend. 

Kaze Tachinu (The Wind Rises)

Genres: drama, historical, romance, film

Synopsis: Although Jirou Horikoshi's nearsightedness prevents him from ever becoming a pilot, he leaves his hometown to study aeronautical engineering at Tokyo Imperial University for one simple purpose: to design and build planes just like his hero, Italian aircraft pioneer Giovanni Battista Caproni. His arrival in the capital coincides with the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923, during which he saves a maid serving the family of a young girl named Naoko Satomi; this disastrous event marks the beginning of over two decades of social unrest and malaise leading up to Japan's eventual surrender in World War II. For Jirou, the years leading up to the production of his infamous Mitsubishi A6M Zero fighter aircraft will test every fiber of his being. From witnessing firsthand the growing antisemitism in Germany to fatefully reuniting with Naoko at a summer resort, his many travels and life experiences only urge him onward⁠—even as he realizes both the role of his creations in the war and the reality of the waning health of his beloved. As time marches on, he must confront an impossible question: at what cost does he chase his beautiful dream? [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 8/10

A film released in 2013

My Thoughts: Beautiful and dreamy but not one of my favourite anime films unfortunately. Still very good though!

Kekkai Sensen

Genres: action, comedy, superpower, supernatural, vampire, fantasy, shounen

Synopsis:  Supersonic monkeys, vampires, talking fishmen, and all sorts of different supernatural monsters living alongside humans—this has been part of daily life in Hellsalem's Lot, formerly known as New York City, for some time now. When a gateway between Earth and the Beyond opened three years ago, New Yorkers and creatures from the other dimension alike were trapped in an impenetrable bubble and were forced to live together. Libra is a secret organization composed of eccentrics and superhumans, tasked with keeping order in the city and making sure that chaos doesn't spread to the rest of the world. Pursuing photography as a hobby, Leonardo Watch is living a normal life with his parents and sister. But when he obtains the "All-seeing Eyes of the Gods" at the expense of his sister's eyesight, he goes to Hellsalem's Lot in order to help her by finding answers about the mysterious powers he received. He soon runs into Libra, and when Leo unexpectedly joins their ranks, he gets more than what he bargained for. Kekkai Sensen follows Leo's misadventures in the strangest place on Earth with his equally strange comrades—as the ordinary boy unwittingly sees his life take a turn for the extraordinary. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 8/10

Finished airing in 2015 with a total of 12 episodes. 

My Thoughts: I recall this terribly sad episode that was an absolute masterpiece but to be honest the rest of the series didn’t leave much of an impression on me. I didn’t even bother watching the second season when it came out. Do what you will with that information.

Kenka Banchou Otome: Girl Beats Boys

Genres: action, martial arts, school, shoujo, TV short

Synopsis:  Kenka Banchou Otome - Girl Beats Boys, Hinako Nakayama has spent all of her life being raised in state-run orphanages, without ever knowing her family. As she's about to enter high school, Hinako is approached by Hikaru, a boy who claims to be her twin brother. According to Hikaru, Hikaru and Hinako are the children of the head of the powerful Onigashima yakuza family, and Hikaru wants Hinako to switches places with him at Shishiku Academy, an all-boys school overrun with the nation's toughest delinquents. Can Hinako save her brother, find romance, and become the new boss of the school? (Source: Crunchyroll)

My Rating: 7/10

Finished airing in 2017 with a total of 12 episodes. 

My Thoughts: Reverse harem style, tv short with a tomboy female lead. Not really long enough to leave much of an impression but fun enough if you have some time to waste. Surprisingly great art/ animation.

Keppeki Danshi! Aoyama-kun

Genres: comedy, seinen, sports

Synopsis:  He is charming, cool, athletic, a good cook, but more importantly, he's a clean freak. Aoyama is idolized and respected by everyone, but they can only admire him from afar due to his mysophobia. Despite that, he plays soccer—a rather dirty sport! As the playmaker for Fujimi High School's soccer club, Aoyama avoids physical contact at all cost and cleanly dribbles toward victory. However, the path to Nationals will not be easy for Fujimi's underdog team. But alongside striker Kaoru Zaizen, Aoyama will show everyone that even as a clean freak, there are things he's willing to get dirty for. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7/10

Finished airing in 2017 with a total of 12 episodes. 

My Thoughts: comical with what I recall to be very little focus on the actual playing of sports which is a bummer if that’s what you’re looking for. It was alright but there are definitely better comedy (and for sure sports) anime's out there! 

Kill la Kill

Genres: action, comedy, superpower, school

Synopsis:  After the murder of her father, Ryuuko Matoi has been wandering the land in search of his killer. Following her only lead—the missing half of his invention, the Scissor Blade—she arrives at the prestigious Honnouji Academy, a high school unlike any other. The academy is ruled by the imposing and cold-hearted student council president Satsuki Kiryuuin alongside her powerful underlings, the Elite Four. In the school's brutally competitive hierarchy, Satsuki bestows upon those at the top special clothes called "Goku Uniforms," which grant the wearer unique superhuman abilities. Thoroughly beaten in a fight against one of the students in uniform, Ryuuko retreats to her razed home where she stumbles across Senketsu, a rare and sentient "Kamui," or God Clothes. After coming into contact with Ryuuko's blood, Senketsu awakens, latching onto her and providing her with immense power. Now, armed with Senketsu and the Scissor Blade, Ryuuko makes a stand against the Elite Four, hoping to reach Satsuki and uncover the culprit behind her father's murder once and for all. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 9/10

Finished airing in 2014 with a total of 24 episodes. 

My Thoughts: One of my top three favourite anime's of all time despite my not giving it a perfect score and the sole reason i’m such a Trigger fangirl despite the way they continue to disappoint me with each and every new release... Highly recommend! Fair warning there’s plenty of skimpy outfits and fan service which may turn some off but if you can get past it this really is an anime worth checking out. Great story, characters, music and style! A chaotic feast for the eyes and ears! I really should rewatch it... 

What We Do In The Shadows

Werewolves and vampires: two species that are mortal enemies. But in a small town in Upstate New York, they seemed to find a way to co-exist by staying out of each other's way and minding one's business. However, the dynamics of the local pack of werewolves and coven of vampires would change when a certain pair got too close for comfort. Alfred is an over seventy-year old werewolf posing as local law enforcement, while Ivan is a centuries old vampire working at a blood bank. Both try to get through the struggles of being immortal creatures, who find themselves in a cultural and family struggle when they fall for each other. Between an anti-vampire pack leader, suspicious in-laws, and a death that could nearly tear two families apart, the pair questions if a relationship is a reality, or if they are too much baggage they carry. 

Chapter 1: How To Get Blood Stains Out

Ivan checked the time, it always moved expediently quick, so fast that a whole hour slipped between his undying fingers. It was inevitable, the changes in wardrobe, the action of scenery. Recently, he and his sisters had moved off and out of the country. With the endless amount of time in their collective hands, moving was simply vacation. They've spent twenty short years bundled up in the upstate part of New York together. As the only living company they own, it was only befitting that they clung to each other but only separated by a few blocks. Close but not too close to disturb or hover over each other. The middle of the three, Ivan, lived in a sizable apartment by himself. It was refreshing for him to try out new and different parts of the world every once and awhile. They were a quiet and reclusive species and he had plenty of words to say about the compact population density that came with the city. It was almost worth it to him to catch others of his kind when he's out on a walk, but the pure odor of his neighbor could give him a headache on the warmer days. Werewolves, he's never been that fond of the creatures, but he's grown accustomed to this certain neighbor's charms. He pondered on the idea that if their landlord implemented a no pets policy, what would come of Alfred and his fur-coated clothes. As for Ivan, he was sure his turtleneck sweaters wouldn't be a cause for alarm; though they may be wildly out of style for the time and a few drenched in the blood may catch someone off guard. Even if it was considered primitive to him, he still went out on the town scouring out fresh blood now and then, but that's only when his job didn't pay off and that was rare. He landed himself a plentiful gig working at a blood bank and for untrained customers, he would sneak out an extra pint just for himself. The blood packs were like caprisuns that he'd suck down to stay as youthful as he was.

There were alternatives that his family would cook up, but it didn't stand a chance to the rich milky serum of type B-negative or the popular O-positive. Getting ready to head out, he plucked up one of the various plastics packs he held in his fridge to quench his salivating mouth. His pointed teeth slipped out from their sleeves and punctured the bag in one fell swoop before guzzling it down. Crumpling up the remains, he wiped his lips and tossed it out. He perked up instantly, scooping up his laundry basket and walking out the door, locking it behind him. On most of his free days, he would invite Alfred to come down to the laundromat with him. The company was always nice, someone to talk to as he waited for his clothes to dry. Knocking on Alfred's door, he adjusted the sweater collar shielding his neck. It isn't much of a secret to other vampires or werewolves about what he is, the DNA imprinted in his scent, his natural code. Yet, when talking to Alfred, he didn't do much to state the fact or pry on the canine's own identity. He's seen too many of his kind staked through the heart to risk talking to someone so casually about being a vampire.

Alfred had started his day late, a habit of the man. Being a night owl, from either running around in the woods with his fellow pack members or being forced to change forms due to the shift in the moons. Working the third shift became needed for him, desperate for a job that would allow him to sleep in on mornings. In the countryside town, there aren't too many cops interested in working nights, so he easily found a job there. Members of his pack always knew how to work the system, being the immortal creatures that they were. Move every few decades, don’t make yourself super popular, don’t keep in touch with friends when you move. Alfred being the youngest member of the pack and was still getting used to not aging. Quite a weird reality, but one he’d have to accept. The constant moving never bothered him, but he did hate always lying about himself and his background. One of the older members of the pack said next time they move, he needs to change his name. He kept Alfred for his move, but his elders found it risky, however, let it slide since it was such a woodsy, small area. There was slight loneliness to being a supernatural creature, but Alfred found comfort in knowing that there are more of him out there. He isn’t truly alone, they were just hiding plain sight. 

Ivan was one of those, his neighbor obvious being non-human to him. Alfred could smell Ivan when he was down the street, let alone when he was at home. Vampires had that smell- extremely strong depending on each vampire. It was always weirdly sweet, but not in a good way. More like burnt, overdone sugar. Werewolves never cared for it, and he guessed vampires probably thought the same. On the other hand, living next to Ivan got him used to the smell, and he’d come to not find it horrible. It was just a tad bit too sweet, instead of sickly. His attraction to Ivan probably helped, his scent ability closed up when he saw Ivan. Perhaps it was his body doing him a favor when he saw the beautiful vampire. Members of his pack had warned him about them: Vampires, they are beautiful but dangerous. Don’t be charmed. Nevertheless, Alfred found himself charmed and enjoying his time alone with Ivan. He wouldn’t dare tell any of his packmates that, even if some would question why Alfred sometimes smelled like he had helped a vampire fold laundry. Whatever, it’s his life and his life alone. If he wanted to befriend one vampire, it couldn’t hurt. Their status of immortality and not spreading it is an unspoken rule, even among themselves. They both knew who each other were, but no one would speak on it. Alfred never asked Ivan what was his favorite blood to drink, and Ivan would never ask why he had stuff covered in fur in his house at times. A fair exchange. Ivan’s presence would gift Alfred when he knocked on the man’s door. Picking his head from the pillow, he got up from his sofa that he rested on. Attempting to catch up a season's worth of not watching, Game of Thrones played in the background. Already smelling Ivan coming up the stairs, he knew it was him. Stretching out his arms, he yawned and walked to the door. Opening it, he showed a toothy grin when he saw the tall vampire. “And I was just thinking of you. What’s up?”

The aroma hit his nose like a sack of bricks when the door cracked open. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant smell, but it could be strong and reek of wet dog in the worst cases. If he ever wanted to sniff out Alfred's blood type, there was a mask of different smells that blocked him. It would frustrate him. Ignoring the clear indicator, he adjusted the basket to his hip and patiently admired the smile. Cheerful and lively just like a mutt- he wasn't jealous of how werewolves morphed. He could barely handle his fangs let alone a full bone-cracking experience. He wasn't well versed in the world of the age-old rival species because he didn't grow up near very many of them. Vampires plagued eastern Europe in his old home, they fended off other creatures from their territory so spotting any other supernatural being was unlikely in those parts. Werewolves were a more western-based species, thus, he wasn't surprised to find one living so close to him. Nevertheless, he heard tales of their sharp teeth and their bright eyes that seemed to shine even during the day. He found it precious, the encased youth. "I was about to head down to wash my clothes. Do you want to gather up your own load and go down with me?" Asking felt more as he was inviting Alfred on a walk, the scent was just that hard to press through. Mentally shaking off the speciesism, he suppressed the sense just to have a normal conversation with his friend. "Unless, of course, you're preoccupied." He could only pick up on the faint mumblings of the television, his head wouldn't be able to dip in any further than the doorway.

Nine hundred years and he still hasn't managed to stumble into someone else's home without being invited in. It was especially frustrating when family-owned businesses didn't have a sign to welcome him in. Restaurants were a nightmare for him, but he was happy to see himself in reflections other than a camera or glimpses of the water. Once they took silver out of mirrors, he was ecstatic, but completely terrified the first time he caught himself in one. Come to find out that the curse was still wrapped around his frame like an infected vine. He didn't wish for immortality, but he found himself lucky to have family still with him. Most vampires didn't have the luxury of having someone by their side. It made him curious to find out Alfred's situation. Yet, it would be too rude for him to simply ask. "You probably want to rest up some more, don't you?"

The werewolf could only grin at the invitation. He found it humorous to always be invited by the vampire for outings because he couldn’t go into homes without being invited. Ivan would never cross even his feet past the doorway, as if a magical force was around Alfred’s door, keeping the vampire at bay. His pack had warned him to never have a doormat or sign that said ‘Welcome In!’ As it would give a vampire the clear ability to come inside. Even if being the friendly type, Alfred still followed the advice of his pack. Looking back on his sofa, he knew he had no plans later in the day. It was his day off, as he had work tomorrow. He planned on spending the day bumming around, so why not do some cleaning. “I’ll go with you. I got nothing better to do, honestly.” He teased, stepping back. “Give me a second.” Leaving Ivan’s side and going into his apartment without inviting him in, he forced the vampire at his doorway. It was sort of ‘fun’ to make the man wait at the door for him. Alfred was a playful man, nothing was ever too serious with him. Going to his room, he had a tall basket filled with dirty clothes. Ivan had come during a perfect time.

Picking up the laundry basket, he carried it to his front door. He slipped some sneakers on that were sitting next to the front door, excusing himself past Ivan. He didn’t bother locking the door behind him since he was only going downstairs. “I guess you came during a perfect time, huh. You are always like that you know. Always at the right moment.” He joked, walking to the elevator with him. “I wonder how you always know when I have a pile of dirty clothes. Must have superpowers.” Alfred’s tone was even more sarcastic, acting as if he didn’t already know Ivan was a vampire. Or that Ivan didn’t know that he was a werewolf. He wondered if they ever acknowledge their supernatural status, or if their friendship will always be based on mutual respect for their secret and the privacy of it. There were some lonely nights when he wanted to throw that out of the roof. Perhaps he’d be drunk or smoked too much weed, and inner emotions and wish would overcome logic. He’d wish to invite Ivan over and talk, but, wasn’t their thing to act as if they were just, normal? It was a difficult thing to balance. His fancy for Ivan, but not wanting to risk the interesting friendship the man brought him. He’d spent too many nights heart-broken over losing friends due to his werewolf immoral status, why do it again for lust? The tall, pale vampire would stay a foreign beauty, but a good friend for now.

There was plenty of love that went into making friends, but Ivan never had the knack for it. His longtime friends, and a few still living exes, scattered across the world. He had trouble keeping up with them because he traveled so much, but he couldn't say anything different for them. It didn't help that he never stayed long to talk. With a few of his past mortal companions, he could have taken a slumber and wake to find them dead. It was a while until he learned to not sleep for so long, but that was just his earlier days when he was first adapting to vampire life and society. Since then, he's become an expert in retracting his teeth and calming his cravings. Languages, landmarks, he's been around to study them all. He's been through ten different lifetimes in the same recurring body. It was hard for him to refrain from being downright miserable with the process. Each day was repetitive, every love faded and grew old. It brought him the slightest amount of joy to see someone else like Alfred still living life normally. Something deep inside of him hurt to think about how he could be wrong about the werewolf being a werewolf. It was selfish of him in many ways, he wanted someone else to suffer in the endless immortal cycle with him. He wasn't deeply in love with Alfred, but the man was pleasant enough to keep a smile lifting upon his face. Nothing made him happier than to hear that his offer was accepted by his new curiosity. Yet, he was only left to let the grin drop once Alfred walked off. He'd follow the man in if he only could.

Once the small adventure started, he narrowed his eyes to the observations. Picking up on the satire, he laughed. "Yes, I have a power called sensing Alfred's dirty laundry- never did I think it would come in handy... and it still has yet to help me." He smashed the down button for the elevator, the technology still intriguing him to this day, but somehow just as dangerous as when they were first introduced. The machinery in an elevator has stopped on him at least four times, he's grown to hate them. It was hard to explain why he survived the numerous crashes and why the remaining passengers had mysterious wounds. He couldn't deny free snacks like that; they were already dead or bleeding out, he had to put them out of their pain somehow. There was no pleasure in it, he did what he had to not suffer. If that were to happen with Alfred riding with him, he wasn't entirely sure what he would do. His bat form wouldn't be adequate to support a grown beast. "I suppose it does serve some purpose... I mean, if I don't remind you to take after yourself then who will? I know you certainly won't." The words bounced off the elevator walls as playful as they could be. After stepping off and into the foyer, he repositioned the basket back between his hands. "It's not as if you'll live forever, after all. People need maintenance."

Alfred walked down along with Ivan, enjoying the playful banter they had. Who knew that he’d get along with a vampire out of all people? Let alone have a small crush on the man. It was entertaining at the least, getting to laugh over his friendship with the man. They were both creatures of the night, perhaps it’s why they were able to bond. Even if they were different creatures, they still were ones of powers. Some would say they were works of the devil, that satan had inspired evil into their souls. But Alfred didn’t have a mean bone in his body, even in werewolf form the man would act as more of a puppy. The transformation to another creature didn’t have a huge effect on his personality like most. There were changes, of course, but he wasn’t a new person. He was still Alfred, just a tad bit more aggressive. Ivan had an interesting way of calming the wolf, he’d rather roll on his back and yawn in front of Ivan then growl and show off his toothy grin. “It’s nice being reminded that someone cares about if I have clean clothes or not.” His smirk grew at the word forever. Being an immortal being, it was his reality. Ironic to hear Ivan saying that he wouldn’t live forever- he wondered how old Ivan was. His dressings weren’t modern, far from it. He dressed like an old man, even if he was rather young-looking. And the way he spoke, it was as if he learned English in a different period. There was something uncanny about Ivan, and Alfred wanted to figure it out. Throwing his clothes into the washer, he poured the soap on top, closing the lid afterward. “Yeah, forever. You’re right.” He lied, still grinning as he turned on the water. He hopped on top of the washer, taking a seat on it as he watched Ivan finish his clothes. “Anyway, how’s work been? Does the blood bank have any drama going on? Or is it the same old same old.”

A few machines down, Ivan stowed his garments into a washer with a glimpse of a smile to his face. He always fell peacefully in the environment of laundromats; everyone kept to themselves and the air carried the alluring smell of softeners. There was a time that he helped his sisters tend to their dirty laundry. He didn't miss washboards or clotheslines; they ended up leaving his clothes cold. Nowadays, he couldn't survive without some clean warm fabrics wrapped around him when he finished folding. His body had been naturally frozen to the touch during the winter months as if he had become cold-blooded. It was one of the many things he missed about being human, the ability to keep warm or stay cool. The sun would burn and pierce his skin like knives if he stayed out too long as if chemicals were melting him down to the bone. While the chill stung and sent him shivering easier than before. He was curious to find out what Alfred's limitations were if werewolves had that kind of disadvantage, but the neighbor seemed to be even more distant than himself and that was anything but noteworthy. "I wish you would talk about your job more. You should know by now that nothing interesting happens at blood banks except for donors fainting and twisted veins." The real concerning bits he would leave out were his scandal starting to be investigated by the rest of the staff. None of them were nearing his trail, but it was entertaining nonetheless. Telling that part of his week would require acknowledgment of what he was and he wasn't fully able to trust Alfred like that. For all he knew, his cute little neighbor could be a vampire hunter hiding out as an untouchable breed of the werewolf. The idea was too outlandish for him to believe, but he couldn't be too safe when he had two of his family members hiding out with him. "You work in the middle of the day, don't you?" He moved back over to Alfred, watching how his legs dangle and bounce off the machine.

Transforming from human to werewolf had the opposite effect on Alfred. His body temperature was a few degrees hotter, making himself warmer overall. The cold didn’t have the same impact as it did in his human years. Being shirtless when it was snowing wouldn’t make him shiver. He went from loving tropical, warm climates, to preferring chillier places. He could still handle the sun and heat, his body just needed more time to adjust to it. With modern-day air conditioning, he was fine visiting hot places. It was now just a preference to live in an area with a cooler climate. Like a dog, he did enjoy laying out in the sun when it was warm, soaking up the heat. That habit was something he wouldn’t give up soon. The comment about his job kept the grin, as he knew more than Ivan might give him credit for. “I work the third shift. So, seven PM to seven AM. Three times a week, and I get the rest of the week off. Really, dreams come true. A mix of weird shit and serious stuff happens during those times, but this is such a quiet town, that a lot of calls I get are domestic or random crackheads acting up in public. Buttttt-'' He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling of the laundry room. “I do know all about the weird cases. Some shit we don’t want the public to know... Like this one- A couple of months ago, we found a body. Some middle-aged man, near the forest. We think he was homeless since no one came to claim his body and no one was looking for him. Anyway, his whole body was drained. No blood at all.” He looked at Ivan, still smirking.

His eyes didn’t go wide telling the story, he only just raised a brow as a cocky smirk stayed on his face. His expression read, ’I know you know’. “We didn’t let the media know about it since we don’t want anyone to think some crazy conspiracy up like as if there are vampires in this town or something. Sucks to say, thankfully the man was loved by no one, so no one’s looked into it.“ Alfred raises his hand, pointing his finger up in the air as he brought it to his lips, the classic ’It’s a secret’ sign. “But, don’t tell anyone I said that. Just keep it between you and me, okay?” Alfred adored the teasing, letting Ivan know that he knew. Alfred would bet his life and his pack that Ivan or one of the other vampires associated with him had to do with the murder. Alfred could smell another vampire like a scent on Ivan from time to time, and their scents were even stronger when they came inside the apartment. There were more of them, Alfred knew. His inner cop wanted to snoop and find out who these little vampires were. He knew one of them, but were the others? He guessed two, but there could be three. If he sniffed around more to look. “There’s a lot of weird shit that goes around in this town, for real. Someone once came to our station, a hiker, swearing that they saw a group of humans transform into wolves. They were high off of shrooms, though, so I don’t know how good their... uh references are.”

 "What a luxury, I wish I was that free to roam." There was no permanence to Ivan's footsteps, he was a nomad. Any obstacle that stood before him was merely an inconvenience unless it involved a sharpened piece of wood aimed at his chest. The only place he wouldn't dare step foot in again was Italy. He was perfumed in the nastiest garlic and swathed in the constant heat of the sun while mirrors were targets he dodged to avoid suspicion daily. The northern half of the states wasn't as unpleasant, he could feel the cold more often, but the climate gave him the excuse to cover and shield his neck from wandering eyes. Two puncture marks rest on the nape of his neck like scarred up craters. He wasn't entirely sure as to how werewolves get their roots, but he assumed it was something similar. A bite was sure to do it like an infectious disease passed from vessel to victim. His attention peaked with the mention of a corpse being discovered on the outskirts. He nearly cracked a smile remembering tackling the crude drunken man to the ground. Mercy wasn't something he divvied out very often, but it was especially not reserved for those who were asking for trouble. He did his best to not be cruel to strangers who didn't wrong him when he had to decide to starve or kill. The case revealed by Alfred, in particular, was one of revenge and bloodlust. He had to stand his ground when a man like that approached his family with a predatory look. It almost made him giddy to hear that the incident went by nearly unnoticed. He glanced back over to Alfred's face to assess the room. It didn't startle him to find a smug accent to the man's face, he learned early on how to stay inconspicuous in the presence of conjecture. Even seemingly friendly inquiries were something he had to manage with a steady tongue. 

Still not entirely proud of his way of life, he simply listened and checked the time left on his wash. Keeping a straight face didn't last long when he heard the idea of vampires lurking around town. He laughed and drummed his fingers across the metal behind him. The warm welcoming feel crept upon him. He found the unlikely relationship to be beneficial to the blindspot he had when unleashing mayhem in the streets at night. It was clear to him now, Alfred was aware of his identity. He gave a nod, winking Alfred's way as if to seal his secrecy on the subject. The talk of supernatural events was taken a lot more seriously back in his day, he's relieved to see that people have faded away from the topic. Not many vampires are being produced anymore, all the originals who could pass on the serum to transform humans into vampires have gone into hiding. Genetically, vampires can still be birthed into the world and he's met plenty of bonded vampires who have children, but he's not sure if the process is even worth it to curse your own children. "People turning into wolves? I can't believe that either... You seem to encounter plenty of drugged out people, but that's just the gift of the night shift." Hearing a beep and the mechanisms in his washer coming to a halt, he stepped back over and swapped his clothes into the drier. "I'm lucky enough to catch you walking around during the day." Rolling his eyes, he fed the machine some leftover damp socks lingering behind. "I guess I should take advantage of the moment and ask you if you believe in vampires and werewolves... like some deranged person, do you believe?" Smiling away, he lightly slapped at Alfred's calf. "Are you scared of vampires? Do they really frighten you?"

 There was something bold about Ivan. Here he was, instead of showing fear that Alfred knew about his status as a vampire, was smiling and joking with him. Perhaps it was Ivan’s way to save face, and he was hiding all of his anxiety about the situation. But Alfred’s inner wolf could smell fear. Even if a person was trying to hide it, their scent would be real of it. He couldn’t smell it on Ivan, the man was truly brave. Not many vampires could show a type of nonchalant attitude about people knowing who they are. It’s how they get a stake in the chest and burnt. Alfred kept away from the silver bullet by keeping low and not making trouble, but there was something that pulled Alfred closer to the vampire. His guts and playful nature was alluring, even if he’s been warned about it. Vampires were known for their beauty and charm, about to seduce someone into their death of two fangs in their neck. Alfred had been warned about it, but that warning was kept in the back of his mind, as the rest was pulling towards the vampires who were beautiful and playful. Alfred wouldn’t fall, victim, he wasn’t silly, but a part of him let himself go closer and give trust to a man he should have killed a long time ago.

Once his calf was slapped, he gave a toothy grin. “No, I’m not scared of anything. They should be scared of me.” He licked his teeth, going over his sharp canines. Showing off his white, strong teeth was a bit of a symbol to Ivan that he shouldn’t think he’s a harmless, playful puppy. If Ivan ever stepped out of line and was being a danger to his pack or this town, he knew how to rip a vampire into half, burn the body, and make sure that the creature stays dead. But he didn’t like having to do it, he wasn’t a violent man. The transformation did put some aggression on him though, made it easier to get mad and push someone around. Alfred would not be pushed around when it came to Ivan. The vampire would need to know it’s place. Sure, he was cute and charming, but Alfred would never let him endanger the pack of his town. He’d keep up his flirting and fun times with the man as long as he never crossed that line. But the vampire was undoubtedly sexy, he’d have to admit he did a few things to see him in his bed. So he’d play nice, keep his aggression at a low point. Part of him was trying to charm Ivan too, play his game back. It was a game to him, how sweet and kind and flirtatious did he have to be, to get a vampire into his bed. He just had to wait and see.

 Ivan forced back a flinch from twitching through his eyes, still gazes and anxious taps of his fingers sounding off. There have been times where he had to throw everything on the line and rip one of his own to shreds. Beasts, creatures, werewolves, vampires- he's had to claw and bite his way through a few fights even with people he used to call friends. The situation between him and Alfred wasn't to that point, but it still worried him. He didn't trust cops in general; his experiences with guards weren't pleasant, but Alfred was more friend than authority. There was nothing that scared him about the man, he liked him too much. He didn't want to see Alfred hurt, but if it came to it. There was nothing that he couldn't block off in his mind to keep his kin safe. If he had to lose some he wished to be closer to then so be it. He wouldn't show any sign that he was intimidated. The flash of pearly whites only made him roll his eyes. There was a reminder echoing in his head telling him not to do the same for it would be too revealing. "Oh? Is that really so?" He was entertained by the watered-down threat, a smile standing strong into his cheeks. "Well, I'll be sure to ring you up the first time I see a vampire and see how you end up handling it." A lie that he didn't even bother hiding, it was as clear as day while his sight on Alfred faltered.

"Well, I won't lie to you... I would be scared of vampires if I was you. I heard that they like hunting down cute, oblivious, and lively fellows." It wasn't a guarantee or something to put Alfred on his toes, he intended to be just as playfully. He didn't have to be threatening or territorial, he enjoyed the talks with his little neighbor. It still piqued his curiosity to see what kind of blood type the werewolf was even if he wasn't entirely too interested in killing the man off. Alfred, in Ivan's eyes, was a gourmet meal with legs he couldn't touch. Succulent and youthful individuals were a delicacy for him because he found it hardly fair to kill someone so youth. He restrained himself around people who still had time, older folks and jerks were nearly all of his meals. "Speaking of that, maybe you should come by the blood bank some time and donate? I'm sure you have plenty to spare." It was a complete win for him. He'd get to see Alfred and talk to him, figure out his blood type and get a chance to sneak a bag home. If it ended up being O positive, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep his teeth sheathed around Alfred. "I'm sure you're too busy to come to visit your neighbor at his job though. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to show your face in a place like that- I hardly find it worth my time." Pretending that he was heartbroken already, he took his eyes to his nails as his fingers twiddled around each other.

“Call me. I’ll handle it really well,” he said, still smirking but somewhat threatening. He was also giving Ivan the approval to call him if he needed to handle a vampire that was bugging Ivan. He’d do that in a heartbeat, kill off someone who was bugging the cute man. It was a win-win situation, he’d get to hunt down and kill a vampire, and get brownie points with his crush. The transformation gave Alfred a new love for the hunt. When he was younger, he remembered being scared of hunting, and even throwing fish back into the water once he caught them. He was more delicate, rather not seeing the process of killing his meal. But the transformation had killed that part of him. Now, he lived for the kill. When he was in wolf form, his favorite thing to do was tear apart an unaware deer to pieces. An easy, fun meal for him. He was thankful that his urge to hunt and kill was for only animals and not humans. He did not need to tear down a human, there were plenty of animals and wildlife around here. His bloodthirst spared humans, and he was grateful for it. He couldn’t live with himself if he killed humans for fun. It’s why he’s thankful for being a werewolf instead of a vampire. He couldn’t imagine a life that depended on taking someone else’s. That was Ivan’s sin to bear, not Alfred’s, and he thanked God for it.

Alfred rolled his eyes, still smirking. “Huh. Maybe I will one day. When I have free time. I’m busy napping and going to the gym, you know?” Alfred wouldn’t in a million years go to Ivan’s blood bank. Let that vampire taste part of his blood?! He wasn’t sure if Ivan was simply humoring him, or he had plans to see what he tasted like. If his blood was good, would he kill him afterward? He wouldn’t take the chance. ‘I’ll keep my blood, no thanks sucker.’ He thought, unsure if he should trust the vampire. Sure, he was cute, thick in the right places, and had clear skin, but who knew what happened behind closed doors. But his inner animal wanted to see what things he could get anyway with the vampire on a personal level. “Maybe I’ll visit you and bring someone else who wants to donate. I’m not a fan of needles.” Alfred lied, not being terrified at all, just wanting an excuse to hint to Ivan ’not in a million years’. The only time Ivan might get blood from him if they got intimate. Maybe he’d let Ivan take a bite, but no, not for free. Ivan would have to try harder to taste his blood type. Which was a delicious O-positive. 

 Ivan wasn't the biggest fan of actual threats, especially from someone opposed to his own species. There wasn't much room for judgment when it came to bloodlust, but having it directed at him raised his defensiveness by tenfold. His feet even pointed and aimlessly propped his body away from Alfred. The werewolf was charming, but not precious enough to let him ignore such words. He stopped smiling beyond that point, his once pacing hand tucked away into his elbow. It wasn't in him to keep the lightheartedness going after something like that, but he tried not to let it get him down even though his crush just openly admitted to some form of eagerness in killing him. He was undoubtedly disturbed and discouraged by it. "Oh. Okay. I'll definitely keep that in mind every time I talk to you." He remained calm, his eyebrows lifting with criticism. The negative responses only continued when his advances were waved off. He respected it, his convincing skills weren't ever to be enough to anyone knowledgeable on the truth. His hypocrisy was recognized by himself as his own invitation to donate could have come off as threatening. For a moment, he pouted and studied the floor tiles before standing up straight to look over at Alfred. "It's fine, I'm only asking because I'm encouraged to at work... I don't know what it is, but I can never seem to get anyone to agree." He caved and slipped back into a playful mood, he didn't have the endurance to stop smiling around Alfred. "I guess everyone is just a big baby like you... scared of a little needle." His lids hooded his eyes as he teased the other with a smirk. If guilt didn't reel Alfred in, he would try challenging him. "Which is okay, of course, I hate dealing with squeamish people when I have to line them up anyway."

Alfred could tell that Ivan was somewhat offended by the comment, but he needed it to be. Alfred wasn’t stupid and needed to let the vampire know that. That he wasn’t going to become an easy meal for the man. While Ivan's intentions could be pure, and he truly wanted him to donate, Alfred saw past that. The man wanted his blood, and if just for a snack, or see if he’s worth a whole meal, that was unknown. And he wasn’t going to figure it out. Ivan charm and good looks wouldn’t fool Alfred, he wouldn’t be his next dinner. Even if he was cute. It was sick to say, but he enjoyed seeing his body language change from comfortable to unsettled. Yes, he had a crush on the man, but they were not close enough for Alfred to truly feel safe around him. He still needed to test the waters, if he wanted to make it further. His inner wolf could smell his emotional change, and he did feel slightly guilty for it. He could tell he might have hurt the feelings of the vampire, but he wasn’t eager to kill him. As long as he wasn’t threatening the town or his pack, he had no lust for tearing him into shreds. Violence would only come if Ivan brought issues into his loved ones, then he would be eager to tear him into pieces. But for now, Ivan was a non-threatening vampire who was quite cute, and he rather kept it that way. He enjoyed having a vampire who instead hated him, sought out his company. “Yeah, keep in mind. If any vampires are trying to hurt or bother you, I’ll handle it. No need to fear, cutie.” His tongue rubbed over his sharp canine, still smirking as he watched Ivan smirk himself “Anyway, these clothes are gonna take probably an hour to wash. I’m rewatching Game Of Thrones because of the series finale. Wanna watch it with me?” He offered, smiling as if he waited to see if Ivan would take the bait.

If Alfred was to deny his invitation then he would decline his too. He planned on having lunch with his sisters anyway so he didn't have the time to watch a whole series. "No, thank you... Maybe some other time." As if he was about to walk into a wolf den and sit down amongst the clinging smell of a werewolf. His sisters would be scolding him about it for the rest of his undying days. If he were to be mauled in the own apartment complex he lived in, it would be embarrassing. Even the investigation unit was something he didn't put his faith in. Corruption in American police forces was something he was warned about before he traveled to the new world, but he didn't expect appealing werewolves to be a part of the problem. "I have company coming over soon, I really should be cleaning up my place." He remained general as he didn't want to give any details and out any other vampires that could fall prey. "I hope that you enjoy yourself though." Still a little shaken up, he eyed Alfred down before taking a seat on one of the working machines himself. 

Being rejected, Alfred simply smiled. Even though Ivan sat down, he took the chance to get off of the washer. “Oh, I see. You got plans, that’s alright. Well, I don’t want to steal your attention if you’re busy and are gonna have company over. Go worry about that, I’ll just be upstairs..” And with that, he left the basket and started to walk off. “But if your plans cancel, you know where to find me. My sofa is very soft, and I always have snacks~~~” He sang, leaving Ivan alone in the laundry room. Usually, Alfred was the type to chase. Go after someone if he liked them. But he couldn’t be his usual self with Ivan. He couldn’t chase after the vampire so soon, he had to let the man come to him. He had too much on the line to make the vampire think that he had the upper hand. Not in a million years, if the little bloodsucker wanted some cozy up time with Alfred, he’d have to make the first step. Yes, once Ivan made some moves, he’d let himself chase the pretty boy, but Ivan wasn’t just any type of cutie. There was a danger to even being his friend, and with his pack, he couldn’t go after one so eager. Play it cool, let him come to you. It was the opposite of what he usually did. But Ivan was like a challenge to him. Landing a vampire would be an ego booster at that. Let his prey come to him, that was Alfred’s plan.

Ivan nearly gagged at the display, the show of continued insinuation wasn't needed. Being patronized by a werewolf wasn't on his list of things to get done today. Just to bite that ego out of Alfred for the moment would be a load off him. He wanted to keep the banter going and nudge at his neighbor when he made a joke, but he didn't allow himself that. The man had put him on edge and he wasn't ready to risk putting his trust in someone who flashes their teeth at him. If he could just get Alfred alone and defenseless then his problems would go away, but he'd hate to do that. He wants to keep getting along with the werewolf. If the threats became more severe he'd have to do something about it. The man made him uncomfortable at the worst of it. He couldn't help but wonder if his sisters were right- maintaining a relationship like that was more trouble than it was worth, but he enjoyed a good chase, just not one that involved malicious intent even from himself. It was a game he was willing to play, one that he needed to win for his own pride. Tame a feisty little wolf into a domesticated dog. If not in a million years, then he decided that he'd just have to wait a million and one years. He had the time and patience, but not the will to stay hooked on a simple werewolf. The time he had wasn't scary, but knowing that he was safe gave him some peace. He's been through the motion of loving someone a thousand times over and it has worn him out. There wasn't any urge for him to play tug-of-war with some flea-bitten flirt, but he found the slow process to be almost fun. For now, he would just have to wait and hold his ground until he could halfway trust Alfred without worrying if he'd end up like the deadweight he tossed into the woods.

He'd just have to stand by his convictions and watch the near pain of a charmer's head back up the elevator. "Don't wait up." Was the last thing he called out before the steel doors shut. His demeanor instantly changed when he was left to his own devices. He let the nervous lip biting tear off his skin as he watched quietly while his fingers picked at each other. The only thing plaguing his mind was the fresh blood on his hands from a couple of months ago. His tracks weren't covered properly, he was under the influence by the time he finally led his victim out that night. It was troublesome because Alfred most definitely knew and he wasn't sure if that was something he could keep hiding so meticulously under the constant nose of a cop acting as his own K-9 unit. If the man ended up prying even further, he might just have to end him. He didn't want to worry his sisters too much with it, he didn't plan on telling them until he deemed the situation dangerous. Even now, it was nearing that point. He didn't trust Alfred despite how much he enjoyed him and that was a problem. The neighbor was certainly up his alley. A grinning, handsome, little canine. Groaning, he hopped down from his ledge and walked off to the elevator himself. He refused to sit there letting his dick think for him. Once on his floor, he paced off to his door and scrambled in. It wasn't long before he went to cleaning as the frustrating image of Alfred remained in his mind. He liked the werewolf, but he wasn't going to give in to temptation so easily.

[ Link to my Ao3- leaving comments and hits will light up my day. 

 Thank you for reading, chapter 2 comes out in a few days since I have 416 pages :’) have a nice day.

P.S. This is based off an RP me and my friend have been doing about a year, if anyone has confusion on the formatting that is why. She prefers to stay anonymous but I just would like to make that clear <3 ]

Universal Language

It has been a rough couple of weeks, and I know some people have been needing some fluff, so here we go. No monsters just yet, but I am working on it! And I will probably change this title, but I cannot brain.

The flat was dark as Caroline stood in the kitchen, lip tucked tightly between her teeth. A quick glance out of a window told her what she already knew. The rain that had hit as they’d staggered into Klaus’ super fancy building was still going strongly outside, leaving the city hazy and cold. Tugging the edge of her borrowed shirt a little firmer over her knuckles, she debated her options. 

She was really starting to regret leaving the bed, but she really needed a few minutes to herself to sort some of her mental floundering. She hadn’t been sure if she could keep her hands to herself if she’d stayed cuddled up to Klaus, and if he had woken up and looked at her like he had last night, she was going to end up distracted real fast. Pressing her fingers to her burning cheeks, she took a centering breath and pushed aside the hotter memories from last night. 

Though they were really, really good. 

She’d flown into London three days ago to wrangle some press for Enzo, her rockstar best friend determined to keep her life interesting. Three tours, two high profile relationships before he’d gotten around to realizing Bonnie was perfect for him, and a lifetime of coordinating his band practices and wrangling shows until he had hit it big time had made her very good at her job. But even she had her limits. But since he’d just brought home his first Grammy and also recently celebrated his first wedding anniversary, she’d give him some slack. Not much, but a little. And when he’d invited her to a small party he was throwing to celebrate both events, she’d shown up. 

And so had Klaus. 

The Mikaelson’s were old tour friends. They’d been the first group to really take a chance on Enzo as an opening act, and he and Kol had hit it off. They’d stayed in touch for bar crawls and club hoping, and other activities Caroline was pretty certain would give any PR worth their salt early wrinkles. She and Elijah had become professional acquaintances very quickly, and she’d always liked that he’d taken her seriously, even fresh faced and the ink on her degree still wet. Where Elijah understood the inner workings of the press far better than anyone she had ever bet, Caroline brought a social media game that was rock solid. 

These days, Elijah even wrote the note on her holiday cards himself. 

But Klaus. There had always been something about the lead singer and guitarist that left awareness skating down the back of her spine like a touch. He’d made a move early on, with wicked dimples and curlings lips, and hadn’t so much as blinked when she'd turned him down. She wouldn’t lie to herself and say that she hadn’t sometimes regretted that decision those long hours on the road watching him perform, but she had goals and Enzo had dreams. She hadn’t been willing to let even a hint of distraction slow them down. Even if the distraction tended to remove his shirt part way through a performance, and was built.

But last night he’d shown up at that hole in the wall pub, and she’d found herself wondering. All the things she had ignored as she built her career, all the possibilities that she’d let go because her ten year plan had so little wiggle room for any of them. This morning she had a lot less to wonder about and so much more to ponder. The way he’d looked at her when she’d asked him to take her to his home, how good it’d felt and how ridiculously easy he had read her cues. She’d have loved to get her hands on a pad or pen so she could put her thoughts in order, a list right now would really be helpful, but she didn’t want to risk waking Klaus by rummaging through his things.

Well, rummaging anymore than she already had.

Her dress had been crumpled at the foot of the bed, but she hadn’t really wanted to put it back on. Sneaking into Klaus’ closet to find something warm to pull on when she couldn’t locate a robe had been an exercise in ninja-stealth she was surprised had worked. He had made it clear last night that she was welcome to stay, and the idea of leaving had been momentarily tempting, but she was no longer in her early twenties and she’d known Klaus for over a decade.

If she couldn’t stick around with breakfast with him post-sex, she was probably never going to manage it with anyone. Plus, it was raining. There was no way she was walk of shaming it back to her hotel in the rain.

Caroline bounced on her toes for a moment to warm up and tried to decide what her most pressing issue was. What she needed right then was a cup of coffee. However, being friends with Enzo had taught her that finding a normal, American coffee pot in this city would be near impossible. Huffing at the thought, she snuck another glance at the darkened bedroom. 

Klaus probably wouldn’t sleep much longer, he was an annoyingly early riser most of the time, and she really needed to be firing on all cylinders when he made an appearance. Shaking her head, she spun on her heel and determinedly, quietly, started snooping through his cabinets. He had spent enough time with her to know that she was a snooper. He’d even lent a helping hand once or twice when she was getting even with Enzo and Kol, so it would hardly be a surprise if he caught her. And she really wanted to know what a rockstar who wasn’t Enzo kept in his kitchen. 

What she found was a surprising amount of high end pots and pans, a few gadgets she didn’t recognize straight off the bat, an impressive collection of wooden spoons, and most importantly, a small french press. It was the exact same one that Enzo kept for her, and she punched the air in silent victory. She’d already spotted his electric kettle, so it wouldn't take long to put together a cup. Rising up on her toes, she was about to open another cabinet, surely if he had a french press he had coffee, when a sleep rough voice interrupted her. 

“Two cabinets over, love. Top shelf.”

She slammed down on her heels, hand pressed against her chest and turned to toss a glare. “Geez, scare me to death.”

Caroline had to catch her tongue between her teeth, hard, as the sight of him. He’d clearly just rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants, and they were slung low on his hips. His hair stood up in all directions, and she was pretty sure the bruise just beneath on his collarbones was a lingering reminder of her teeth. His smile was slow, dimples cutting deep as he wandered closer. 

“I was wondering where that shirt went.” Klaus’ smile deepened, gaze tracking down her body, the rest of of the clothing she had borrowed. “Comfortable?”

She shrugged, ignoring the way she could feel her cheeks heat. “It's cold.”

“You could have stayed in bed,” he pointed out as he obligingly stopped by the controls for the air, turning the heat up. “It was plenty warm.”

She really, really could have but there was no point in inflating his ego more than it needed to be. “And listen to you snore?”

He poked at a particularly ticklish spot on her ribs as he moved by her to reach for the coffee grounds and Caroline jerked away from him with a glare, but accepted the bag as Klaus started the kettle. It was weirdly domestic and easy, and she had no idea what to say to any of it. Thankfully Klaus didn’t seem to be suffering from the same internal struggle and opened the fridge, hand running through his hair. 

“I wasn’t expecting company, but I have eggs if you’re hungry. I’m not sure we can trust the bacon.” His eyes flickered to her, brow arching. “Delivery is also an option.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose. “No one wants soggy pancakes, Klaus. I’ll take the eggs, maybe toast if your bread isn’t molding. Also, I can’t believe you cook.”

“Self-preservation,” he said easily. “After a tour, the last thing I wanted was more takeaway. It's not always good, mind you, but at least I don’t have to deal with people.”

She thought about that as he moved around, seemingly completely at ease with her. Klaus didn’t let people in his personal space, was very private when he wasn’t on tour, and she was standing in his kitchen wearing his clothes after she’d spent the night in his bed. Brows tucked together, she mechanically set about making her coffee, turning over everything that had and hadn’t been said in the last twelve hours. The stay, he’d murmured against the nape of her neck after they’d showered and staggered back into bed.  

She kept her voice carefully casual. “We both know how much you love people.”

He shot her a look, but his lips twitched. “Should you really be taking a jab at the person making you breakfast?’

“You like it,” she dismissed, finally pouring herself a mug of coffee. She took the first sip with a little sigh of relief and leaned against the counter. “Need help with anything?”

“I like a great many things about you, Caroline,” Klaus murmured as he reached for the half of a loaf on his counter. “The bread should be okay. I pulled it out of the freezer yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” She repeated as she checked the bread before moving closer to the toaster, dodging his earlier comment. “Kol mentioned you guys had been traveling, but he wasn’t exactly coherent when he was giving me details. I think Enzo had goaded him into something like eight shots at that point. I’m not entirely sure how he was standing.”

Klaus made a low noise of amusement as he cracked eggs into the frying pan. “How do you want your eggs, love?”

“I’m not that picky,” she assured him. “Well, about eggs. As long as it's not soft boiled, I’ll eat it, though it’d have been better if there was cheese.”

“I’ll make a note for my assistant,” he said casually. “I’m sure she can find something to meet your standards.”

Caroline glanced at him to find him watching her, eyes intent. “Planning on me sticking around?”

“I did ask you to stay,” he pointed out, gaze leaving her face only long enough to flip the contents of the pan. “That hasn’t changed just because its morning. You’ve never been shy about telling me where we stand, Caroline, and I hope that remains the same as well.”

She flushed, momentarily ignoring the toast popping up. “I didn’t have time for a distraction back then.”

“I remember,” Klaus said lightly. “I believe your exact words were ‘you’re pretty, but not worth Enzo’s career.’”

Caroline scowled when his gaze dragged along her pink face. “You took it well.”

He tipped his head and opened a cabinet, pulling out a plate and sliding the fried eggs onto it. “It helped my bruised ego when you shut everyone else down with even less consideration for their feelings.”

“Some of them were decidedly less charming than you,” she pointed out as she finally reached for the toast, dropping it onto the plate he offered her before going back to cooking his breakfast.

“So you think I’m charming and pretty,” he murmured. “That’s two points in my favor, but not enough that you’d have let last night happen ten years ago.”

“No,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t have.”

“Eat,” he said as she continued to watch him. “You might not be picky, cheese non-withstanding, but cold eggs are terrible.”

Laughing a little, she hosted herself onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen island and wolfed down her food. Last night had been quite the workout, and she was definitely hungry. Klaus didn’t rush through his food, but he was quick, and by the time she was pouring the last of the coffee into her mug, he was loading the dishwasher. He shut it with his hip, quickly washing his hands, before he turned and faced her. 

“Now,” he said, stepping close to where she was sitting and reaching up to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Before we settle in for the rest of the weekend, there are a few things you should know.”

“Arrogant,” she muttered, even as she gave in to the need and pressed her palm against the heat of his side. 

Klaus looked entirely unbothered by her comment. “The traveling that Kol mentioned? We’ve been scoping out real estate in New York City.”

“We,” she repeated carefully, heart thumping into her throat. 

“We. Marcel has been pitching that as a band we start spending more of our time stateside in between tours and recording, and we’ve agreed to it on a trial basis.” His hand came up and he brushed his thumb across the angle of her cheekbone. “I have heard from Enzo and Kol that you might be considering a similar split lifestyle.”

Licking her lips, she nodded and felt a jolt of something warm that he had been asking about her. “It's one of the reasons for this visit.”

His smile was slow and pleased, and his gaze dipped to trace the curves of her mouth. “I’d like to take you dinner.”

Caroline blinked. “Like a date?”

“Exactly like a date. Assuming of course, that I’m still pretty and that Enzo’s career is no longer more important,” he teased lightly, but his eyes were serious. “I plan on being quite the distraction, Caroline.”

She pushed to her feet and tried very hard not to give in and feel up the expanse of bare skin on display. “You’re still really pretty, and I’d love to go to dinner.”

His hand slid to the small of her back and he pulled her closer. “But not tonight.”

“No?”

He shook his head, fingers tugging lightly on the edge of her borrowed shirt. “I have plans for the weekend. And they do not involve us leaving the apartment.”

“Does these plans involve a spare toothbrush?” Caroline asked. “I can probably survive the dreaded takeaway, but there will be no kissing if I don’t get a toothbrush.”

“I imagine I have a spare or two floating around,” Klaus murmured. “I can probably even be talked into making a quick run to your hotel to pick up a few things if you really want them, though clothes are optional and you are welcome to mind. As for food, if you want something more than cheese, you should speak up soon.”

Laughing, she finally gave in and looped her arms around his shoulders. “So magnanimous.”

“For you?” He smiled against her temple for a moment before he stepped back and caught her hand with his, bringing it to the heat of his mouth. Laughing, she untangled herself, and he pulled her with him towards the bedroom. “I’m sure I can find it in me. Let’s find that toothbrush, love, and you can make whatever lists you want, and then you’re mine for the rest of the day.”

Caroline’s smile widened behind him, teeth digging into her lip to stop a giddy laugh. A man with a plan who didn’t mind that she was going to make lists, who was very shortly going to be living much closer to her than she had ever thought possible. Klaus was going to make it very difficult to not fall in love with him, and that thought wasn’t nearly as scary as she’d thought it would be.

If you're still doing prompts, how about L: “Loving you is easy. Living with you takes some getting used to.” for Chasemarsh? Seems fitting for those two. ;)

I’m going to level with you here: I never thought I would write chasemarsh, ever. As someone who was bullied hard by girls a whole lot like Victoria when I was a teen, I’ve never super gotten her appeal. And since Victoria canonically bullies Kate to the point of (attempted or otherwise) suicide... Yeah, chasemarsh isn’t really my cup of tea to be honest. So I hope you don’t mind that I went a bit AU with this one and set it in a universe where they didn’t go to school together and therefore don’t have that bully/bullying victim dynamic.

---

Victoria’s never been an easy person to live with. She knows this about herself. A lifetime of excessive familial wealth compounded by parental neglect has left her utterly incapable of being a good roommate. She tends to forget that people who do not keep her insomniac hours do not generally appreciate loud music after midnight. That if you’re sharing a DVR with someone else they think it rude if you delete their shows to make room for your own before they’ve had a chance to watch them. She forgets that dishes left scattered around the apartment will not migrate to the dishwasher by themselves and will, in fact, grow mold if left to their own devices for long enough. That dirty clothes, too, do not magically launder themselves when you do not have servants to take care of them for you. That roommates, for that matter, are not servants and do not appreciate being treated as such. 

She’s lost more roommates than she can easily keep count of, honestly. 

And so Victoria has gotten used to living alone. It’s not necessarily her preference - she can’t cook worth a damn, for one thing, and she gets lonely much too easily - but it has long been her lot.

Until she met Kate. Beautiful, sweet Kate, who’s never had a roommate flee the apartment in terror or in fury once in her life. Good, kind Kate who never raises her voice, never turns aside a person in need, never has a rude word to say about anyone. Lovely, sensitive Kate who opens up to strangers like they’re her oldest friends, who trusts so easily and so completely, whose smile could make the sun rise on command.

She’s exactly the kind of girl Victoria would have absolutely tortured in high school without knowing why she felt so compelled to ruin her life. But Victoria’s twenty-eight now; she’s a grown-ass woman with a masters degree who hasn’t lived under her parents’ roof in almost a decade and who has finally found a decent therapist, and so when she met this humble, gentle, adorable woman she asked her out for coffee like a normal human being instead of tearing her down like the closeted, self-loathing bully she used to be.

One coffee date turned into weekly coffee dates, which turned into twice weekly dinner dates, which turned into changing their NodFace statuses together, which turned into Kate packing up her ludicrously undersized apartment and her cat and moving into Victoria’s ludicrously oversized apartment with her.

It’s been almost five years since Victoria officially deemed herself incapable of cohabitation and gave up on attempting to share her living space (it’s not like she can’t afford rent on her own, after all, so why subject others to her awful living habits?). Living with Kate after living alone for so long is… It’s wonderful, honestly. Weird, definitely, but wonderful. Kate’s aged and one-eyed rescue cat, Nicodemus, has already claimed Victoria’s most comfortable recliner as his own property, clawing the suede to shit and coating it with a thick layer of white fur. He sleeps at Kate’s feet most nights, and the sound of his purring is almost as restful as Kate’s soft and even breathing. Kate makes tea at least twice a day - usually Irish breakfast in the morning and camomile or something fruity at night - so the kitchen always smells warm and welcoming. When Kate has time she cooks, and when she doesn’t they either have leftovers or Victoria orders in. Kate never forgets her turn to clean out Nico’s litter box, never forgets to put her dishes in the dishwasher, never neglects to put her laundry right in the hamper where it belongs.

Kate’s great to live with. The perfect girlfriend and the perfect roommate. 

Victoria is… trying. So hard. She’s trying to remember to at least put her dishes in the sink or the washer instead of leaving them around the house until she runs out of clean dishes. She’s trying to make sure her laundry actually finds its way into the hamper, and she succeeds about eight times out of ten. She’s trying to remember to feed the cat when it’s her turn, to not delete Kate’s shows off the DVR, to not make too much noise when she wakes up in the middle of the night, to only take up one space in the driveway. She’s trying to clean up her own messes. She’s trying not to take advantage of Kate’s generosity.

Victoria is trying, but Victoria is failing. She realizes this when she returns from her morning jog and finds Kate curled up with Nico in “his” chair with her morning cup of tea and tears rolling down her cheeks. The coffee table is crowded with photography books, Victoria’s coffee cups from the last three (at least) days, and the Chinese takeout containers from last night that Victoria had sworn up and down she would put in the fridge. The smell of expired Chinese food nearly drowns out the earthy scent of Kate’s tea completely. Beneath that, Victoria can smell the litter box she was supposed to scoop out this morning before she left because it’s her turn and she forgot again. There are several places on the floor where it looks like Victoria melted into a puddle and left her clothes behind as they fell from her liquified body.

Kate looks up over the mess to Victoria, her sweet brow creased and her gentle eyes shimmering with tears. 

“Katie…” Victoria’s eyes dart around the room, taking in the now obvious overwhelm. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up. I’ll fix it. I’m so sorry.”

Kate gestures helplessly at the disaster of a room around her. “Tori, I… This is horrible. I can’t relax like this. I’ll help, but I can’t do all of it. I’ve got work in an hour, and I can’t--”

Tears spring to Victoria’s eyes. Her head is spinning. She’s been here before too many times: a roommate cowering in horror of the trainwreck that is Victoria’s life, absolutely at her wit’s end with Victoria’s failings. “Katie, I swear, I’ll do better, I promise. Please don’t leave. I know I’m a mess, and this is all my fault, and you can’t take it anymore, but please don’t hate me. Please stay with me; I can’t lose you.”

“Hey,” Kate says tenderly, uncurling her hand from around Nico to beckon Victoria over. “Tori, sweetheart, I’m not leaving and I don’t hate you. I love you. Come here.”

Victoria wades through the mess and kneels by Kate’s side. Nico’s cool, wet nose sniffs at her forehead a couple of times before he loses interest and resumes sleeping on Kate’s lap, blissfully oblivious to Victoria’s heart breaking in her chest. She rests her head gratefully on the soothing warmth of Kate’s thigh, and Kate’s hand rests lightly in her hair, stroking it soothingly. “I’m sorry, Katie. I know I’m a nightmare to live with. I should have warned you before you moved in so you wouldn’t be stuck with me.” Tears weigh down Victoria’s eyelashes as her brain counts up her countless failings as a life partner and as a human being. “I don’t know why you love me,” she mumbles. “I’m a miserable person. I’m unloveable.”

“Victoria Chase,” Kate says softly but in a voice that brooks no argument. “You are not unloveable. Loving you is easy.” She glances around and giggles a bit despite her red-rimmed eyes. “Living with you takes some getting used to.” She brushes Victoria’s bangs out of her teary eyes gently enough that Victoria can actually believe that she is beloved. “But hey. We’ll both work on it. Together. Okay?”

“Okay,” Victoria sighs into the comfort of Kate’s skin, and she lets the tension drain from her shoulders. She isn’t perfect, and she never will be. But she’s becoming a better person every day. And if Kate is willing to stay with her through it, maybe she can become a better roommate, too.

Rockstar (Indruck)

A friend on discord, @morganeashton, requested #28 of the meet ugly list for Indruck: I’m a famous singer and you’re the new techie who just tripped and pulled the plug out of my microphone mid-concert [extra awkward if they lip sync, extra badass if they keep singing and their voice is still on point]. This is NSFW.

A peril of high quality sound equipment is that when it goes out, it’s very obvious.

The mic goes, his guitar and Dani’s bass cut out, and the effects are gone. For a moment it’s total silence as the audience watches him. 

Then he picks up exactly where he left off, notes coming as easy as breath. After a moment Jake starts up quieter than usual on the drums, giving him rhythm. By the time he finishes, the mic and instruments are back on and the applause is deafening. He smiles to himself.

He’s still got it. 

------------------------------------------

Duck knocks on the dressing room door. 

He’s so fucking fired.

“Come in.”

Mr. Cold is sitting at a mirror, takes note of Duck’s reflection.

“Ah, Duck, I thought it might be you. Mama said you were the one who disconnected our sound tonight.”

“Yessir. I, uh, it was an accident, I was movin somethin in a tight space and caught my foot on the cord without noticin’. I’m, uh, I’m real sorry, and, uh, I’ll, uh-”

Mr. Cold holds up his hand and Duck shuts his mouth. The singer turns, in his chair, face now free of make-up. His features still have that alien edge to them, the strange mix of young and old that’s made his attractiveness the subject of much debate. Duck knows where he falls on it; anyone who thinks Indrid Cold is anything other than sex on legs should get their eyes checked. 

That won’t help him, he knows that.

Indrid leans back in his chair, “you don’t need to plead your case to me Duck, for two reasons. One is that I’m not the one in charge of hiring or firing the road crew. That falls to Mama and Joseph completely, and if I ever tried to toss someone out for an accident they’d put me in my place very quickly. But more importantly, I’m not angry with you for what happened. Quite the opposite.”

“You...wait, really?”

Mr. Cold counts off on his fingers, “The space was small, so everyone could still hear me. There’s been rumors I’ve been using a dub, so this ought to quell them nicely, and” he looks at Duck over his trademark red glasses, smile widening, “it was unexpected, something that’s rare for me these days. When you get to this level of fame, everyone is terrified of not having a flawlessly executed plan. But that is not how the world is; it’s not how art is. So it was nice to have the chance to show everyone that the unexpected can be invigorating. Thank you for that.”

“You’re, uh, you’re welcome?”

Mr. Cold  smiles as he stands up, “you should sit down, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“It’s fine, uh-”

The singer simply rests a hand on his shoulder and gently pushes. Duck sits. 

“Would you, ah, like a drink? The hosts here left a very nice bottle of tequila.”

“Sure.” Duck tries not to stare as he bends over to retrieve a glass and a bottle, pouring Duck a shots worth of tequila that costs more than his rent. Duck mumbles a thank you when he hands it to him, then gawps when Mr. Cold sets the bottle aside and retrieves a Capri Sun from the mini-fridge.

“I can’t stand alcohol. Used to try for the sake of fitting in but” he makes a face like a disgusted cat, “eech. One moment, I need to change.” He disappears around a corner, leaving Duck to wonder what the fuck the polite thing to do is. Mr. Cold is always polite to his crew, but he keeps to himself much of the time. Not to mention Duck’s only been with them since the tour started a month ago. 

A photo on the table catches his eye, and he scoots his chair closer to get a look.

“Was, uh, was this an alternate cover or somethin?”

“Hmm? Oh” a light laugh, “no, though you’ve got a good eye; we shot it the same day we shot the cover image for The Cryptids. That was a shot that was nixed because we looked too silly, I think Vincent had said something funny and cracked Barclay up, who set me off. I bring it with me to every show, a sort of good luck charm mixed with a reminder of where I came from.” 

From the faded photo, nineteen year old Indrid Cold smiles at him. 

“I take it you’re a long time fan, then.” Mr. Cold reappears in a pink and yellow bathrobe, the last color scheme Duck would have assumed he owned. 

“Yeah, over a decade. I, uh, I was sixteen when The Cryptids released their first album. Scraped together fifteen bucks to buy the C.D and wore the damn thing out I listened to it so much. Never heard anything like it. That’s, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “that’s not why I took the job, though. Mama didn’t tell me who I’d be crewin’ for until after I accepted.”

“If you’re afraid of looking like a ‘fanboy,’ don’t be. Do you know how Joseph came to be our manager?”

“Uh, story I always heard was he came backstage during a show on your first tour and offered.”

Mr. Cold chuckles, “he did. But what very few people know is that he came back in his lovingly homemade  ‘Bigfoot’s Boy’ t-shirt and a a lot of glitter--remember, that was the E.T tour so everyone was space themed--clearly having left the house with the intent of trying to get into our bassist’s pants, and instead proceeded to tell us he’d seen how our manager operated through the night and we could so better and here’s how.”

“Jesus.”

“He was remarkably intimidating in spite of the glitter and his argument was airtight. So we fired Hayes and hired him. He did eventually bang our bassist, but that was perhaps obvious.”

“Given that they’ve been married for like five years, yeah. Still can’t believe Barclay went from beiin a rockstar to bein’ a chef.”

“He was always an ingenious cook. He once made breakfast using nothing but the still-hot engine of a mini-van.”

“AGH, god, why?”

“We were broke and hungry and there was nowhere to buy food.”

“That’s hardcore.”

“Mostly just oily.” Mr. Cold grabs another Capri Sun, sitting down across from him, “hmm, if you were sixteen when we started, did you ever get to see us?”

Duck shakes his head, “only kinda. Y’all mainly played twenty-one plus places even after you started gettin big, then you weren’t tourin nearby. When you announced the farewell tour, my friend Juno and I drove to Richmond to hear y’all play from outside the stadium. She’s still got a picture of us from that night somewhere, all geared out, tryin to look cool enough to be there.”

“You’ll have to let me see it, so I can determine if you pass muster.” Mr. Cold teases. 

“I ask if she can send me it. Christ, I remember bein’ so fuckin bummed when y’all announced The Cryptids were disbanding, then so fuckin relieved when you said you were gonna keep makin new stuff and performin just as Indrid Cold. Your voice is fuckin amazin.”

“That’s not always the word used.”

“So you don’t sound like Bruno Mars or some pop diva, big fuckin’ deal. You sing and people listen because they ain’t ever heard anyone like you. No one in the world sounds like Indrid Cold.”

The singer gives him an odd smile, “that’s very kind of you to say.”

“Sorry, guess there’s still some fanboy hidin’ out under the roadie.” His cheeks heat up as he finishes his drink.

“I think we should both get some rest.” Mr. Cold stands, ushering him to the door, “and that we should talk again sometime. And thank you again, Duck, for your happy accident.”

‘You’re welcome, Mr. Cold.”

A famous smile that’s never stopped being weirdly captivating, “please, call me Indrid.”

---------------------------------------------------------

“You sure Indrid wants me on the bus and not just to, I dunno, load it?”

“Yes indeed.” Ned, Indrid’s publicity man, gestures grandly to the open door of the tour bus, “now kindly get yourself and your bag on it so we can get a move on.”

Duck climbs aboard, awkwardly sets his bag on the carrier shelf as he nods hello to Boyd, Indrid’s driver and part time bodyguard. 

Indrid is lounging on a black couch, but sits up when he sees Duck, “ah good, you decided to join me.”

“Yep. Uh, did you ask me for a reason or?”

“I like talking with you.” Indrid cocks his head, as if puzzled by the question. Duck wants to point out that the a god of the alt scene, a musical genius, who could have anyone he wanted for company, seeming to be excited by hanging out with a roadie is a bit confusing.

Indrid, meanwhile, is shoving drawings and notes aside so Duck can sit down, “mind you, I don’t expect you entertain me or something; I’m working on some poster art right now, for that fundraiser, so if you have things you like to do on the road, you’re welcome to do them. My room is that way if you want to nap, and it has a t.v as well if you want to watch something. Oh, and we have wi-fi, of course.”

He sounds like a college kid showing off his first apartment and it wrong-foots Duck enough that he just grabs his book from the pocket of his bag.

“Thanks, uh, think I’ll read for a bit.”

Indrid grins, goes back to his drawing, pen scratching hurriedly as the bus jolts to a start and pulls onto the road. 

After awhile, Indrid glances at him and asks mildly, “what was your favorite album? Of The Cryptids, I mean, not my solo stuff.”

Duck taps the spine of the book against the table as he thinks, “I mean The Cryptids  has that whole edge by bein’ the first, because there was nothin like hearin’ your sound for the first time. But I gotta say...Unsolved. Whole thing is fuckin amazin, but your vocals on “To a Flame” still give me fuckin chills.”

“I haven’t played that song in a long time.” Indrid says softly, smiling, “it was always a favorite. I wrote it about someone I could never have.”

“You can feel it. In, uh, in the way it’s arranged, the way you sing, gives this whole feelin of someone who’s decided to love someone completely even though they’ll never be loved back.”

Indrid looks at him a moment, that same odd, small smile quirking his lips, then returns to his drawing. When the road gets bumpier, they move to a couch in the middle of the bus with a low table nearby. Duck pulls out his laptop and plugs in his headphones, pulls up Planet Earth as Indrid’s head starts drooping. Two episodes in, the singer falls asleep, flopping sideways so his head is in Duck’s lap. 

He should move him, Indrid will probably think this is weird when he wakes up. Then again, he looks so cute like this. And it’d be rude to wake him up. 

Duck’s to the episode on jungles when a slender, tan hand reaches up and plucks his left earbud out. Startled, he looks down to find Indrid putting it on and adjusting his head in Duck’s lap, clearly engrossed in the carnivorous plants onscreen.

“Do you want me to just turn the normal sound on?”

“No” Indrid murmurs sleepily, “this is perfect.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Duck assumes the bus will be a one-time event, but he’s ridden with Indrid each time since. Which is why, when his phone dings, Indrid is sitting right beside him. 

“Looks like Juno found the, uh, the photo.”

“Let me see” Indrid grabs the phone from him, cackling with delight when he sees the image, “you two were really the pair of cryptozoologists, weren’t you?”

“Told you we were tryin too hard.”

“On the contrary, I love it, it’s exactly the kind of weirdness we wanted to inspire in people. And if seems you did like to collect our merch, that shirt you’re wearing was a limited run.”

“I know. I, uh, I saved up for it, way I always did if something had art of yours on it.” He slaps his hand over his mouth, embarrassed by the admission.

“That’s very sweet.” Indrid smiles at him, then lifts his glasses for a better look, “what does the collar you’re wearing say?”

“I, uh, fuck, I don’t remember, got, uh, got amnesia, collar specific amnesia, fuck, uh-”

“C, O, L...you were wearing a collar with my name on it.” Indrid’s grin takes on a hungry edge, “someone was downplaying whose fanboy he was.”

“I, I didn’t want you thinkin I was creepy, or that I was just bein nice to you because of the crush I had on you in college.”

“I don’t, I promise, though I appreciate the consideration. Here” he hands the phone back, but as Duck takes it he leans in and whispers, “but you really should wear a collar more often.”

-------------------------------------

“Sooooo how’s it going with Indrid?” Aubrey, Indrid’s magician opening act, sits down next to Duck at dinner.

“Good. Wait, shit, are people talkin about us?”

“Kinda? I mean, Indrid hangs out with the band, and with me, plenty, but none of us get to be on that bus. Not like I’m complaining, Dani and I have our own sweet ride.”

“There ain’t anythin goin on between us. It just...Indrid seem like he likes bein’ friends with me.”

“That’s awesome!”

“Yeah” Duck sighs, wistfully, “y’know, it’s funny. Even after I started workin here, he was still Indrid Cold in my head, the guy who sang like he was diggin down in my head, who did wild shit like kiss his male bandmates on stage, who was always so fuckin cool. And now he’s Indrid, this guy who’s kinda awkward and wears way more pink than I assumed and flaps his hands when gets excited and somehow that’s even better.”

“Awww, someone has a cruuUUshh.”

“Had, Aubrey. Had.”

“Whatever you say, Duck” she winks at him, “whatever you say.”

-------------------------------------------------------

“Are these yours?”

Duck shakes himself awake. They’ve been driving all evening and well into the night, and he must have nodded off and knocked his notebook over. Which is why Indrid is now holding several sheets of loose paper.

“Shit! I mean, uh, yeah, but they ain’t anythin special.”

“I didn’t know you wrote songs.” Indrid scans the pages with a critical eye.

“Sometimes. Like I said, they ain’t anythin to make a fuss over.” 

Indrid makes a noncommittal noise and picks up a nearby guitar, tuning it, “you can go back to sleep, I’m just going to fiddle about for a bit.”

Duck lays down on the couch, and falls asleep to the sound of Indrid’s hums.

He’s shaken awake two hours later, and is thoroughly confused to find Indrid in tight black pants and silvery shirt, black boots on his feet and a deep green on his lips; that’s his stagewear, not his pajamas.

“Put on your most punk-rock outfit, and make it fast.”

He manages to get an old Cryptids t-shirt on along with black jeans that, if he does say so himself, make his ass look good, and is tugging on his boots when the bus pulls into a dusty parking lot.

“It’s the only goth/gay bar in the county.” Indrid says by way of explanation as he pulls Duck out the door, Boyd following them as Ned stays behind to watch the van (“in case we need to make a hasty retreat”).

“Wait, holy fuck, I always thought that was a myth, that you would stop at random clubs and play.”

“Not in the least, though it’s been awhile. Ooh, whoever is already playing sounds very good.” He pushes open the door, the smell of smoke and stale beer and sweat pouring over them in waves as they enter. Indrid keeps to the side of the room, holding Duck’s hand all the while, and spots the tiny merch table with “The Hornets” painted on a yellow sign on the front. 

“Wait for me here.” He kisses Duck’s cheek and disappears into the crowd. When the band finishes the song, a youngish woman waves them over to the side of the stage, strangers in the crowd turning to each other to ask what the fuck is going on.

The guitarist and lead singer reappears, giant H on their shirt,  and grabs the mic, “y’all aren’t gonna believe this, but the Hornets have just acquired a new singer and it’s gonna blow your fucking minds. Give it up for one of the gods of horror-surf, the grinning man, the mothman himself, Indrid fucking Cold!” 

The crowd screams loud enough to shake an entire coat of dust from the walls as Indrid steps on stage, beaming and waving.

“Thank you very much, Hollis. I’ve got four songs for you tonight, including something very, very new. So, without further ado” he grabs the mic, flicks his hair, “let’s prowl.”

The Hornets launch into the opening notes of “on the prowl,” the crowd cheering and hooting and singing along with so much energy that Duck can’t hear Indrid’s voice until the last verse. He claps along with everyone else as Indrid takes the mic of the stand, “and here’s one I haven’t sung in far too long.”

The bass and guitar start in a minor key, half country swing and half horror sting.

“Always on the outs, always in the dark.” Indrid shuts his eyes as he croons, “always so hungry for one little spark. Always so willing to play your game. What can I say? I’m like a moth to flame.”

Duck knows the song by heart but he’s never heard Indrid sing it live, like there was someone in the room he was hoping would hear it and know it was for them. He doesn’t breathe until the song ends; he doesn’t want to miss a single note, miss the way Indrid’s voice curls around the room as if searching for him. 

As the crowd applauds at the end, Indrid crosses to Hollis, who hands him their guitar. He loops it over his shoulder, returns the mic to the stand. 

“Now, this next song is very special, it doesn’t have an arrangement yet, so you’ll have to live with just my melodious voice.” He picks the guitar, brow furrowed in concentration, and Duck gasps. 

He knows this song, he’s just never heard it played anywhere but inside his head. Indrid sings it flawlessly, the crowd swaying in time with him, and Duck realizes he must have practiced nonstop while he was asleep. 

The short song comes to a close and he tilts his head, “what did you think?”

The audience bursts out cheering and Indrid grins, “yes, that’s about how I feel too. I can’t take credit though, it was written by a friend.”

He returns the guitar, nods to the band, and purrs into the mic, “the sun goes down and the moon comes up.”

Shit how did he know? Does he know? He can’t know.

He can’t know this is the song Duck used to jack off to. A cover of a cover, a video where Indrid growls and purrs and nearly fucks the mic as he sings. 

“You better duck, when I show up, the goo goo muck” he writhes in time with the music, “I’m a nightmare, honey, looking for some head.”

God, fuck, how could he have forgotten just how Indrid sounds when he sings this, like the monster under the bed came to life, turned out to be hot, and really wants to fuck you. Indrid is on his knees now, working the front row, dragging his free hand across his body with moans between the words.

“He must really like you, mate.”

“Gahfuck, Boyd.” Duck jumps, but doesn’t take his eyes off the stage.

“I’m just sayin’, he’s never let anyone come to one of these before. I only do because Stern’ll kill us if we let him go without some kind of backup.” Boyd pats his shoulder, heading back towards the door. 

Indrid finishes the song panting, the Hornets looking harried from keeping up with his energy. As the crowd screams and claps he bows, and hurries off the stage. In cries for an encore and the darkened house, Indrid finds him again, grabbing his hand and sprinting outside.

“God I missed doing that!” He laughs as they run, “did you have fun?”

“Fuck yeah, Indrid, fuck, you really liked my song?”

“Of course. And it seems they did too.” The bus doors close behind them, but Indrid doesn;t stop moving, “we’re both very tired, going to bed now, goodnight!” 

Duck’s about to point out he sleeps on the pullout couch, not the bed, when the bedroom door slams shut and Indrid yanks him into a kiss, tongue in his mouth and hands in his back pockets, groping him with a growl. 

When Indrid breaks the kiss, Duck’s certain he has stars in his eyes. 

“Is this alright?”

“Hell fuckin yeah it is.”

“Good” Indrid shoves him backwards onto the bed, “shirt off.”

Duck obeys, Indrid stripping his own away and tossing it on the ground. As Duck fights with his jeans, Indrid retrieves a condom and something black from a box, setting them on the bed. He notices his struggle and shakes his head as he prowls on top of him, “ah ah, we don’t have time for that.”

“Butmmmmfff” Duck gasps and moans as Indrid kisses him again, demanding and messy.

“Get them low enough for me to fuck you.” He bites Duck’s lip and sits up, wiggling his own black pants down enough to free his cock. By the time he gets them free one leg and down to his knee on the other, Indrid has the condom on.

Indrid tosses away his glasses, gives him a long once over, licking his lips, “good boy.”

Then he’s on top of him again, cock inside him and fingers tangled in his hair.

“Oh fuck, you’re soaking, god, what got you so wound up, hm?”

“You, just you, watching you, Indrid, god please fuck me.”

“Gladly, goodness, fuck, that’s it sweetheart, you take me so well.” Indrid hammers into him again and again, kissing him each time he whimpers or moans. 

Duck wraps his legs around him, manages to get his head up enough to tease his tongue along Indrid’s nipple. 

“AH! Good boy, mmmm, I knew you’d be perfect to fuck.” He adjusts so he can run his hand up Duck’s throat. There’s no pressure in the gesture, but plenty of possession.

“What do you think, shall we get you a new collar?”

“Yes, yesyesyes, Indrid, god, fuck please.”

“Oh you like that, mmm” he switches to slow, deliberate thrusts, a counterpoint to Duck’s frantically jerking hips that makes them moan in tandem, “we could get you several, would you like that? I could put them on you according to my mood and what I wanted you to be that day.”

Duck means to say yes, whines instead, grinning breathlessly when Indrid strokes his cheek.

“Good. I’d like it, too. Nnnh, god I’m close.” He stops entirely, awkwardly shifts and pulls them until he’s on his knees with Ducks ass in his lap, “but I want you to cum first.”

“I, I can try.”

“It was an order.” He reaches down, revealing the black object from earlier; a vibrating wand.

“Oh fuck yeah, fuckFUCK” his legs thrash when the vibe presses against his dick, “Indrid, sugar, ohmyfuckinggod.”

Indrid grins, wide and wanton, and turns the toy up, eyes flicking between Ducks face and cock as he cries out and bucks his hips. 

“What a good boy, getting my cock so wet” he wiggles his hips with a moan, “you feel delightful when I use this on you, perhaps tomorrow I’ll have you sit on my cock and do the same thing over and over again, edge myself with the feeling of you needy and tightening around me.”

“Indrid, fuckplease, yes, yes, fuck, I’m so fuckin close darlin, ple-fuck, ‘Drid!” He cums with groan, whole body shaking as pleasure overloads his nerves. 

The vibrator thunks to the floor as Indrid lunges forward, pinning him to the bed and fucking him hard and fast, cock thudding into him in time with his purring groans. 

“So, so good, my Duck, so very good, god, yes, yesyes” he’s moving so violently Duck is now grunting from the force of the impact, “that’s it, good boy, take what I give youAHHnnn, Duck, Duck.” His hips slow as he groans, Duck drinking in the sight of him, orgasmic and loving above him.

Indrid pulls out, condom hitting what is hopefully the trash and not his guitar case, and immediately curls around Duck, kissing his neck and face.

“Thank you, thankyouthankyou.”

Duck giggles, kisses him back, “why are you thankin me? I’m the one who just got to fuck a rockstar. You got to fuck some regular dipshit.” He bumps their foreheads together to show he’s teasing. 

“Incorrect. I got to fuck you. You, who are funny and charming and to the point, and who has taught me a remarkable amount about plants.”

“S’important to have hobbies.” Duck mumbles into his shoulder. 

“Indeed. My point is, you make me happier than I’ve been in a long, long time. And while fucking you has been on my mind has been on my mind lately, it was not actually what I planned to do first. I, ah, I” he rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, hides his face in his neck, “I wanted to ask if you wanted to be my boyfriend.”

“Hell fuckin yeah.” Duck hugs him tight as he laughs with relief, “Indrid, I wanna be with you, the real you, not the one I had the crush on all those years ago. I wanna make you happy.”

“You do that just by existing, but I have some other ideas as well.”

“Oh yeah?” Duck kisses his nose.

“Well, for starters” Indrid’s eyes gleam as he looks up at him, “how would you like to write some music with me, boyfriend?”

“I think that sounds fuckin amazin. Boyfriend.”

The Weekend Warrior Christmas - New Year’s Edition – WONDER WOMAN 1984, NEWS OF THE WORLD, PROMISING YOUNG WOMAN, ONE NIGHT IN MIAMI..., PIECES OF A WOMAN, HERSELF, SYLVIE’S LOVE and More!

Welcome to the VERY LAST Weekend Warrior of the WORST YEAR EVER!!! But hopefully not the last column forever, even though I already plan on taking much of January off from writing 8 to 10 reviews each week. It just got to be too much for a while there.

Because it’s the last week of the year, there are a lot of really good movies, some in theaters but also quite a few on streaming services. In fact, there are a good number of movies that appeared in my Top 10 for the yearover at Below the Line, as well as my extended Top 25 that I’ll share on this blog sometime next week. I was half-hoping to maybe write something about the box office prospects of some of the new movies, but after the last couple weeks, it’s obvious that box office is not something that will be something worth writing about until sometime next spring or summer.

(This column is brought to you by Paul McCartney’s new album “McCartney III” which I’m listening to as I finish this up… and then other solo Beatles ditties picked for me randomly by Tidal.)

First up is easily one of the most anticipated movies of the year, or at least one that actually didn’t move to 2021, and that’s WONDER WOMAN 1984 (Warner Bros.), Patty Jenkins’ sequel to the 2017 hit, once again starring Gal Gadot as Diana Prince. I reviewed it here, but basically the sequel introduces Wonder Woman arch-nemeses Barbara Minerva aka Cheetah, as played by Kristen Wiig, and Pedro Pascal’s Max Lord and how an ancient artifact gives them both their powers, as well as helps to bring Diana’s true love Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) back despite him having disappeared presumed dead in WWI. As you can see by reading my review, I thought it was just fine, not great and certainly not something I’d make an attempt to see a second time in a 25% capacity movie theater. Fortunately, besides debuting in around 2,100 movie theaters across the nation, it will also be on HBO Max day and date, which has caused quite a stir. Being Christmas weekend with no work/school on Monday, I can see it still making somewhere between $10 and 12 million, but I can’t imagine it doing nearly what it might have done with most theaters only 25-30% full at the maximum and that theater count being roughly half the number it might have gotten during the “normal times.”

Paul Greengrass’ Western NEWS OF THE WORLD (Universal) reteams him with his Captain Phillips star Tom Hanks, this time playing Captain Jefferson Kidd, a Civil War soldier who travels from town to town in the Old West reading from newspapers to anyone who has a dime and time to listen. After one such reading, he discovers a young girl (Helena Zengel) on her own, having spent the last few years with a family of Native Americans who were killed by soldiers. Together, they travel across America as Kidd hopes to bring the girl to her last surviving family members.

I already reviewed Greengrass’ movie for Below the Line, and I also  spoke to Mr. Greengrass, an interview you can read that right here (once it goes live), but I make no bones that this was one of my favorite movies I’ve seen this year, and it’s not just due to the fine work by Greengrass and his team. No, it’s just as much about the emotion inherent in the story, and the relationship between the characters played by Hanks and Zengel.  

I’ve watched the movie three times now, and I’m still blown away by every frame and moment, the tension that’s created on this difficult journey but also where it leaves the viewers at the end that promises that there can be hope and joy even in the most difficult and turbulent times. It’s a wonderful message that’s truly needed right now.

Listen, I’m not gonna recommend going to a movie theater if you don’t feel it’s safe – I’ve already spoken my peace on this at a time when COVID numbers were much lower – but this is a movie that I personally can’t wait to see in a movie theater. I honestly can’t see the movie making more than $3 or 4 million in the open theaters considering how few people are willing to go to movie theaters. Obviously, this isn’t as big a draw as Wonder Woman, but it is a fantastic big screen movie regardless.

Also opening in theaters this Friday is Emerald Fennell’s directorial debut PROMISING YOUNG WOMAN (Focus Features), starring the wonderful Oscar-nominated Carey Mulligan as Cassie Thomas, a woman who has revenge on her mind. Cassie spends her nights picking up guys in bars by pretending she’s so drunk she can barely walk, then humiliating them and presumably worse. When she encounters an acquaintance from med school in the form of Bo Burnham’s Ryan, the two begin dating, though he ends up awakening a darker side to Cassie that seeks revenge for something that happened back during their school days. (Honestly, if you’re already sold, just skip to the next movie. That’s all I want you to know before watching it.)

I was ready to love Fennell’s movie when it opened with a disgusting shot of gross stock market bros in loose-fitting suits gyrating in slow motion before one of them tries to pick up a totally soused Cassie at the club. It’s a scene that really plays itself out quite well, and then leads into Mulligan’s character allowing another clear scumbag (played by Christopher Mintz-Plasse, maybe as a slight-older McLovin?) before turning the tables on him as well.

There’s going to be a lot of talk about this movie after people see it, since it’s one of those great films that begins a lot of conversations. I imagine most women of a certain age will love it, but some men might see themselves in some of the characters (even Burnham’s) and wonder whether Cassie just won’t take crap from any man or if she’s a full-on misandrist. One thing we do know a lot is that she does this sort of thing a lot, and there’s something from her past that has driven her involving something that happened to her female friend in med school. I’m going to stop talking about the plot here, because I definitely don’t want to spoil anything who hasn’t seen the movie, but the second half of the movie is as deeply satisfying as Tarantino’s Kill Bill in terms of the surprises.

You’ll realize while watching what a treat you’re in for when you first watch Mulligan’s amazing transformation from pretending to be drunk to being completely cognizant and just all the emotions we see her go through after that. Of course, we never really know what she’s actually doing to the guys she lets pick her up -- she keeps a notebook with guy’s names and a quizzical counting system, so we can only imagine.

Fennell’s screenplay is fantastic but her work as a first-time director in maintaining the the tone and pacing of the movie is really what will keep you captivated, whether it’s the amazing musical choices or how Cassie dresses up to lure men. There’s also a great cast around Mulligan whether it’s comic Burnham in a relatively more serious role, but one that also allows him a musical number. (No joke.) Fennel’s amazing casting doesn’t just stop there from, Jennifer Coolidge as Cassie’s mother to Laverne Cox as Gail, her workmate/boss at the coffee shop – both of them add to the film’s subtle humor elements. Alfred Molina shows up to give a show-stopping performance, and Alison Brie also plays a more dramatic role as another one of Cassie’s classmates. I can totally understand why the Golden Globes might have deemed the movie a “comedy/musical” (for about two days before going back) , but putting so many funny people in dramatic roles helps give Promising Young Woman its own darkly humorous feel. All that darkness is contrasted by this sweet romance between Cassie and Ryan that’s always in danger of imploding due to Cassie’s troubled nature.

The biggest shocking surprise is saved for the third act, and boy, it’s going to be one that people will be talking about for a VERY long time, because it’s just one gut punch after another. I loved this movie, as it’s just absolutely brilliant – go back and see where it landed in my Top 10. As one of the best thrillers from the past decade, people will be talking about this for a very long time 

Promising Young Woman hits theaters on Christmas Day, and presumably, it will be available on VOD sometime in January, but this is not one you want to wait on. If you do go see it in theaters, just be safe, please. No making out with random men or women, please.

Regina King’s narrative feature debut, ONE NIGHT IN MIAMI... (Amazon Studios), will ALSO be in theaters on Christmas Day, and though I’ve reviewed it over at Below the Line, but I’ll talk a little more about it here just for my loyal Weekend Warrior readers.

Yet another movie that made my Top 10, this one stars a brilliant quartet of actors --  Kingsley Ben-Adir, Leslie Odom Jr., Aldis Hodge and Eli Goree—as four legendary black icons: Malcolm X, Sam Cooke, Jim Brown and Cassius Clay, on the night after the last of them wins the World Boxing Championship against Sonny Liston in February 1964. The four men meet in Malcolm X’s hotel room to discuss what’s happening in their lives and the world in general, as well as Clay’s decision to join the Nation of Islam, just as Malcolm X is getting ready to leave the brotherhood due to philosophical differences with the group. In fact, all four men have philosophical differences that are discussed both in good humor and in deep conflict as they disagree on their place in a white-dominated world in a year before the Civil Rights Act would be signed.

First of all, there’s no way to talk about this movie without discussing the Kemp Powers play on which it’s based, and we can’t mention that without mentioning that Powers also co-wrote and co-directed Pixar’s Soul, which will be available on Disney+ this Friday. It’s a fantastic script and King put together a fantastic cast of actors who really give their all to every scene. In the case of Leslie Odom, Jr., you really can believe him as Cooke, especially in a number of fantastic performances pieces. Likewise, Goree looks a lot like Clay both in the ring and out, carrying all of the swagger for which he would become more famous as Ali.

I’ve seen the movie twice already and if you’ve looked at my Top 10, then you already know this is another one that made my cut, so I don’t think I need to give it a much harder sell. I’m sure you’ll be hearing a lot about this one on its journey to Oscar night when hopefully, King becomes the first woman of color to be nominated in the directing category. Or rather, she’ll probably tie for that honor with Nomadland director Chloé Zhao.

If you don’t feel like going to theaters for this one, you’ll be able to catch it on Amazon Prime Video on January 15, too… you’ll just have to wait a little longer.

Also, the new Pixar animation movie, SOUL, directed by Pete Docter (Up, Inside Out) and co-directed by Kemp Powers (remember him?), will hit Disney+ on Christmas Day, and I reviewed it here, so I probably don’t have  lot more to say about it, but it’s great, and if you have Disney+, I’m sure you’ll be watching it.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t get a screener for Matteo Garrone’s PINNOCHIO (Roadside Attractions), which also opens in about 700 theaters on Christmas Day. This adaptation stars Robert Benigni as Geppeto, who famously starred as Pinocchio in his own version of the classic fairy tale from 2002. That other movie was “Weinsteined” at a time when that just meant that a movie was ruined by Harvey Weinstein’s meddling, rather than anything involving sexual assault.

Another great movie hitting streaming this week is Eugene Ashe’s SYLVIE’S LOVE, which streams on Amazon Prime Video today. It stars Tessa Thompson as Sylvie and Nnamdi Asomugha (also a producer on the film) as Robert, who meet one summer in the late 50s while working at Sylvie’s father’s record store. He is a jazz musician who is on the rise, but their romance is cut short when he gets a gig in Paris but she refuses to go with him. Also, she’s pregnant with his child. Years later, they reconnect with her now being married with a young daughter (clearly Robert’s) and they realize that the love between them is still very real and true.

This is the first of three movies I watched this week where I went in with very little knowledge and absolute zero expectations. Like everyone else on earth, I am an avid fan of Ms. Thompson’s work both in movies like Thor: Ragnarok and smaller indies. She’s just a fantastic presence that lights up a screen. While I wasn’t as familiar with Asomugha’s acting work – he’s produced some great films and acted in a few I liked, included Crown Heights – there’s no denying the chemistry between the two.

What’s kind of interesting about the movie is that it combines a few elements from other great movies released this week, including Soul and A Night in Miami, but in my opinion, handles the music business aspect to the story better than the much-lauded Netflix movie, Ma Raimey’s Black Bottom. Frankly, I also think the performances by the two leads are as good as those by Boseman and Davis in that movie, but unfortunately, Amazon is submitting this to the Emmys as as “TV movie” rather than to the Oscars, so that’s kind of a shame.

This is a movie that’s a little hard to discuss why I enjoyed it so much without talking about certain scenes or moments, or just go through the entire story, but I think part of the joy of appreciating what Ashe has done in his second original feature film is to tell the story of these two characters over the course of a decade or so in a way that hasn’t been done before. That alone is quite an achievement, because we’ve seen many of those types of movies over the years (When Harry Met Sally, for instance).

What I really liked about Sylvie’s Love over some of the other “black movies” this year is that it literally creates its own world and just deals with the characters within it, rather than trying to make a big statement about the world at the time. Maybe you can say the same about Soul in that sense, but you would be absolutely amazed by how much bigger an audience you can get by telling a grounded story in a relatable world, and then throw in a bit of music, as both those movies do.

So that’s all I’ll say except that this will is now on Amazon Prime Video , so you have no excuse not to check it out while you wait for Regina King’s equally great One Night in Miami to join it in mid-January.

Hitting Netflix on Christmas day is Robert Rodriguez’s WE CAN BE HEROES, his sequel to his 2005 family film The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl – not his best moment -- which follows the kids of the Heroics, a Justice League-like super group. They’re all in a special school for kids with powers but they have to step up when the Heroics are captured by aliens. Want to know what will happen? Well, you’ll just have to wait for Christmas Day for when my review drops to find out whether I liked it more or less than Rodriguez’s earlier film which SPOILER!! I hated.)

The first thing you need to get past is that Shark Boy and Lava Girl are now man and wife, and just that fact might be tough for anyone who only discovered the movie sometime more recently. There are other familiar faces in the Heroics like Pedro Pascal, Sung Kang, Christian Slater, Priyanka Chopra Jonas and more, so clearly, Rodriguez is still able to pull together a cast.

The movie actually focuses on YaYa Goselin’s Missy Moreno, daughter of the Heroic’s leader (Pascal) who has also retired. Just as aliens are invading the earth, Missy is put into a school of kids with superpowers, all kids of various Heroic members. Sure, it’s derived directly from The X-Men and/or Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, so yeah… basically also the X-Men. We meet all of the kids in a great scene where we see them using their powers and learn their personalities, and honestly, they really are the best part of the movie.Probably the most adorable is Guppy, the very young daughter of Shark Boy and Lava Girl, played by Viven Blair. Oddly, Missy doesn’t have any powers so she feels a bit fish-out-of-water in the group even though, like her father, she proves to be a good leader.

As much as I really detested Rodriguez’s Shark Boy and Lava Girl movie, I feel like he does a lot better by having a variety of kids in this one, basically something for everyone, but also not a bad group of child actors. (There’s also a fun role for Adriana Barraza​.) There are definitely aspects that are silly, but Rodriguez never loses sight of his audience, and wisely, Netflix is offering this as a Christmas Day release which should be fun for families with younger kids who might see this as their first superhero movie.

More discerning viewers may not be particularly crazy about visual FX, all done as usual in Rodriguez’s own studio but some of them look particularly hoaky and cheap compared to others. (I mean, that’s probably the appeal for hiring Rodriguez because he’s able to do so much in-house. In this case, he got all four of his own kids involved in various capacities of making the film.)

We Can Be Heroes is clearly a movie made for kids, so anyone expecting anything on part with Amazon’s The Boys will be quite disappointed. It’s probably Rodriguez getting slightly closer to Spy Kids than he has with any of his other family-friendly movies, but one shouldn’t go in with the expectations that come with any of the much bigger blockbusters released these days. Personally, I enjoyed that fact, and I totally would watch another movie with this superteam.

Michel Stasko’s BOYS VS. GIRLS (Gravitas Ventures) is a fun retro-comedy that follows a war between the male and female counselors at Camp Kindlewood, which has just gone co-ed. At the center of it all is Dale (Eric Osborne) and Amber (Rachel Dagenais) as two teens who are in the middle of a meet-cute romance in the middle of a inter-gender competition called “Lumberman vs. Voyagers,” which I have no idea whether it’s a real thing or not.

I probably should have known I’d like this one from the catchy New Order-ish song in the opening credits, but listen, Wet Hot American Summer is one of my all-time favorite movies, and that was basically made to satirize ‘80s movies like Meatballs. This one falls more towards to the latter in terms of humor, but it also feels authentic to the ‘80s summer camp experience.

It helps that the grown-ups at the camp are played by the likes of Kevin McDonald from New Kids on the Block, Colin Mochrie from Whose Line is It Anyway and others, but it’s really about the younger cast playing teen boys and girls in the throes of puberty, something we all can in some way relate to. The young cast play a series of stereotypical young but there are a lot of funny tropes within them, as each of the cast is given a chance to deliver some of the funnier gags. This isn’t necessarily high-brow humor, mind you, but I love the fact that you can still make a movie about a time where you could still make fun of girl’s periods in school. (I’m kidding. I just put that in there cause I feel like I need to throw things like that into this column just to see if anyone is ACTUALLY reading it.)

The presumably Canadian Stasko is another great example of an independently-spirited filmmaker who has an idea for a fun movie and then just goes about making it, regardless of having big stars or anything to sell it besides many funny moments that can be featured a trailer, so that those who like this kind of movie will find it. Listen, Wet Hot American Summer wasn’t a huge hit when it was released. I still remember it having trouble getting a single screening at the multiplex in Times Square when it was released but over the years since it became sort of a cult hit (kind of due to Netflix having it to rent on DVD, I think).

Besides a fun script and cast, Stasko also find a way to include tunes that sound so much like real ‘80s songs we would have heard on the radio but aren’t quite the big hits that would have cost him thousands of dollars, but I really just enjoyed the heck out of the tone and overall fun attitude that went into making this movie.

Also on VOD now is Ian Cheney and Martha Shane’s fascinating and funny doc, THE EMOJI STORY (Utopia), which I saw at the Tribeca Film Festival when it was called “Picture Character.” (That’s what “emoji” in Japanese means, just FYI.) As you can guess it’s about the origins and rise of the emoji as a form of communication from its humble beginning in Japan to becoming one of the biggest trending crazes on the globe. I’m not that big an Emoji guy myself – I tend to use the thumbs up just for ease, but I do marvel at those who can put together full thoughts using a string of these symbols, and if you want to know more about them, this is the movie you should watch.

Now let’s cut ahead to some of the movies that will be opening and streaming NEXT week…

Hitting select theaters on Wednesday, December 30 and what really is my “FEATURED FLICK” for this column is Hungarian filmmaker Kornél (White God) Mundruczó’s PIECES OF A WOMAN (Netflix) before its streaming premiere on Netflix January 7.

Written by Kata Wéber, who also wrote Mundruczó’s earlier film, it stars Vanessa Kirby (The Crown) and Shia Labeouf as Martha and Sean Weiss, a Boston couple who lose their baby during a particularly difficult home birth and follows the next year in their lives and how that tragic loss affects their relationship with each other and those around them.

As you can imagine, Pieces of a Woman is a pretty heavy drama, one that reminded me of the films of Todd Field (Little Children, In the Bedroom) in terms of the intensity of the drama and the emotions on screen from the brilliant cast Mundruczó put together for his English language debut. I’m not sure I could use the general plot to sell anyone on seeing this because it is very likely the worst possible date movie of the year after Netflix’s 2019 release, Marriage Story, but it’s just as good in terms of the writing and performances.

At the center of it is Kirby – and yeah, I still haven’t watched The Crown, so shut up! I’ll get to it!!! – who most of us fell in love with for her role in Mission: Impossible - Fallout, but what we see her go through as an actress here really shows the degree of her abilities. But it also shows what Mundruczó can do with material that (like many movies) started out as a play. For instance, one of the first big jaw-dropping moments is the home birth scene that goes on for a long time, seemingly all in one shot, and Kirby is so believable in terms of a woman going through a difficult birth, you’d believe she has had children herself. (She hasn’t.)  I also don’t want to throw Shia Labeouf under the bus right now just because that seems like the trendy thing to do. (Without getting it, I believe FKA Twigs… but that doesn’t deny the fact that Labeouf is just the latest great actor that everyone wants to cancel.)

Anyway, to change the subject, we have to talk about Ellen Burstyn, who plays Martha’s meddling mother, who is quite clingy and overbearing, so when the couple lose their baby, she steps in to take to task the midwife she deems responsible (played by the highly-underrated Molly Parker). Or rather, she hires a family lawyer (Sarah Snook) to take her to court to get compensation for the loss of her daughter’s baby. The film’s last act culminates as their case goes to court.

Again, the film covers roughly a year after the tragedy and deals not only with how Martha and Sean’s relationship is affected and how it emotionally affects Martha in particular, but also how others around them start behaving towards them. It feels so authentic and real that you wonder where the screenwriter was drawing from, but Mundruczó has more than prove himself as as filmmaker by creating something that is visually compelling and even artsy while still doing everything to help promote the story and performances over his own abilities as a director. Doesn’t hurt that he has composer Howard Shore scoring the film in a way that’s subtle but effective.

Listen, if you’re looking for a comedy riot that will entertain you with funny one-liners and pratfalls than Pieces of a Woman is not for you. This is a devastating movie that really throws the viewer down a deep spiral along with its characters. The first time I watched it, I was left quite broken, and maybe even more so on second viewing.  (As we get closer to Oscar season… in four months … I hope this film will be recognized and not just thrown under the table due to Labeouf’s involvement. That would be as big a tragedy and misjustice as much of what happens in the movie.)

So yeah, in case you wondered why this also made it into my prestigious Top 10 for the year, that is why. :)

Also in theaters on Wednesday, December 30 is another terrific drama, the Phyllida Lloyd-directed HERSELF (Amazon Studios), co-written and starring Clare Dunne, as Sandra, a mother of two young girls, trying to get out of an abusive marriage, while making ends meet and providing shelter for her kids. One day, she learns about a way that she can build her own home, and one of the women she cares for offers a plot of land

Another movie that I really didn’t know much about going into, other than Phyllida Lloyd being a talented filmmaker whose movie The Iron Maiden, which won Meryl Streep her 500th Oscar, I enjoyed much more than the popular blockbuster hit musical, Mamma Mia! This is a far more personal story that reminded me of Ken Loach’s I, Daniel Blake, a smaller and more intimate character piece that shines a light on British actor Clare Dunne, who as with some of the best and most personal movie projects, co-wrote this screenplay for herself to act in.

There are aspects to the film that reminds me of many other quaint Britcoms in terms of creating a story where one person’s challenge is taken up by others who are willing to help, and in this case, it’s Sandra’s desire to build a house for her two quite adorable daughters while also trying to keep it secret from her abusive ex.

Dunne’s performance isn’t as showy as some of the other dramatic performances mentioned in this very column, but she and Lloyd do a fine job creating an authenticity that really makes you believe and push for her character, Sandra, surrounding her with characters who can help keep the movie on the lighter side despite very serious nature of spousal abuse (which also rears its ugly head in Pieces of a Woman). Oh, and don’t get too comfortable, because this, too, leads to an absolutely shocking and devastating climax you won’t see coming. (Well, now you will… but you’ll still be shocked. Trust me.)

Still, it’s a really nice movie with the house being built clearly a metaphor.  I know there’s a lot of truly fantastic movies discussed in this week’s column but don’t let this wonderful British drama pass you by, because you can tell it’s a labor of love for everyone who made it.

Herself will be in theaters for roughly a week starting December 30 before streaming on Prime Video on January 8.

In select theaters and on VOD on New Year’s Day is Roseanne Liang’s WWII thriller SHADOW IN THE CLOUD (Vertical/Redbox Entertainment), starring Chloë Grace Moretz as Flight Officer Maude Garrett, who is assigned to deliver a top-secret package on the B-17 bomber “The Fool’s Errand” with an all-male crew that throws her into a turret “for her own safety.” She ends up getting trapped down there as the plane is attacked by a creature that no one believes is out there, as they fight back against the unseen enemy, many secrets are revealed.

This is yet another movie I didn’t know that much about other than it has Moretz on an airplane, but there’s so much about the movie that both had me scratching my head but also has me quite deliriously amused that filmmakers could get away with some of the craziness that we witness. Maybe it’s not a surprise that the movie was co-written by Max Landis -- not exactly the most beloved screenwriter in Hollywood these days, and certainly not a critical favorite.

Again I really didn’t know what to expect so after Moretz’s character gets on the plane and is trapped in the turret under the plane, I thought that maybe I was seeing something similar to the one-location thriller 7500, starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt, which I wasn’t too big a fan of even though the actor was good. Moretz continues to be quite a phenomenal actor, but the mix of Mahuia Bridgman-Cooper’s music, which borrows as much from Soulwax (look ‘em up on Spotify) as John Carpenter, and the sexist attitude by the male crew towards Garrett made me unsure of what the movie was meant to say.

Much of the movie just has Moretz on her own with the men’s voices over the comms, which is not something that could possibly sustain a whole movie. Part of it is borrowed from a very well-known episode of “The Twilight Zone,” in fact.

but fortunately, it breaks from out of that deceit but then just starts getting crazier and crazier. I’m not even gonna tell you about what happens or what’s in the box Garrett is carrying or where things go, because honestly, I don’t think you would believe me.

I haven’t seen any of Ms. Liang’s previous films but when you realize how much crazy stuff she’s able to get way with, I’ll be really interested what she does next. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any movie that’s quite as crazy as Shadow in the Cloud or one that makes me want to watch it again for that very reason.

Oscar-winning Icarus director Bryan Fogel’s doc THE DISSIDENT (Briarcliff), which opens in theaters Friday then will be On Demand January 8, follows the horrific assassination of Washington Post journalist Jamal Khashoggi in Turkey in September 2018, thought to be the work of the Saudi kingdom and Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman aka MBS.

I’m really fascinated by movies like this one and Ryan White’s recent Assassins – both which could be in the Best Documentary race at the Oscars in April, by the detective and investigative work done by both filmmakers to get to the bottom of murders that shouldn’t be possible and find those that are responsible. I’ll admit that I didn’t really pay much attention to this story when it was happening a few years back, so I don’t know how much of the details are new and exclusive to Fogel’s doc. He does get access to Kashouggi’s fiancé Hatice who had gone with Jamal to the Saudi embassy in Turkey to get proof that he was single and could marry when he vanished for days and then turne up dead.

Fogel also meets with another Saudi dissident now living in Quebec who goes through the events that led up to Kashouggi’s murder that involved a social media campaign against the journalist within a country where 80% of the population is on Twitter (!).

This is another fascinating doc by Fogel that I’m sure some will be more interested in due to its subject, but when it comes to investigative pieces that really take a deep dive into news from the headlines, Fogel has created another unforgettable doc.  (Also, it was absolutely little surprise to me that Fogel’s film is co-written by Mark Monroe, who has been involved with some of the best docs I’ve seen over the past 15 years or so…  just look up his IMDB credits!)

Opening at the Film Forum Virtual Cinema in New York for a one-week qualifying run is Russia’s movie for Oscar consideration, Andrei Kochalovsky’s DEAR COMRADES! (NEON), a black and white dark dramedy set in 1960s Kruschchev-era Russia. It involves a strike by locomotive workers when the government raises food prices, leading to chaos and a massacre that leaves a Communist party loyalist,  Lyuda (played by Julia Vysotskaya) who the film then follows. Unfortunately, I had a choice of either writing this column or watching this two-hour movie. I opted for the former (obviously) but I do hope to get to this later in the week and should be adding more on this movie once I do.

Also streaming in Film Forum’s Virtual Cinema starting next Wednesday, December 30, is Mario Monicelli’s 1960 film, The Passionate Thief.

Unfortunately, I also wasn’t able to get to Two Ways Home (Gravitas Ventures), In Corpore or Fire Will Come, which will open in Metrograph’s digital ticketing system.

Metrograph will also continue showing Tsia Ming-Liang’s Goodbye, Dragon Inn, Fruit Chan’s Made in Hong Kong, and lots of great programming over the holidays. It would be a great time to get yourself or a loved one a digital membership for just $50! (James Gray is also programming some of his own films like Little Odesssa and other favorites, like Richard Quine’s Strangers When We Meet, over the holidays.)

By the way, if you read this week’s column and have bothered to read this far down, feel free to drop me some thoughts at Edward dot Douglas at Gmail dot Com or drop me a note or tweet on Twitter. I love hearing from readers … honest! 

Attention Mandatory - Assembly Required

Masterlist

From this Ask

One shot

Pairing: Thor Odinson X (OC) You

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: anonymous asked: Thor doing things to get your attention and getting annoyed coz u are not giving enough of it

A/N: I didn't go smutty because I wasn't sure if that was what Anon was looking for. I hope you enjoy, got kind of angsty but ended in some fluffy kisses. It kind of came out gender neutral, which I like.

Words: +1,400

————

Thor just wasn’t having it. Especially after his return from space and having met you at the newly rebuilt Avengers compound. You were nice to him, polite and understanding especially on bad days. 

You began to notice he was craving attention when the god was sure to be at almost every place you were when it was time for a break. It was odd at first, of course you wondered why he took to; wait was he flexing? 

You couldn't help but smile and wave. Apparently he had taken that as an invitation to sit with you on the park bench you sat at. Thor seemed very eager as he sat down, sure to keep eye contact and keep you interested with his elaborate stories that had the god gesturing wildly and making you laugh.

Every day following, it appeared he done than same flex but this them he didn't wait for you to invite him over. You had to admit he was very easy on the eyes and he was a break from the usual mundane things you done lately. Being a tech for the team had good days and bad, you were just happy to have an attractive distraction, aside from the usual bickering you had to deal with from Sam and Bucky.

Eventually, you noticed the god was sure to speak to you every time you passed, to give a smile and the one time you did turn to watch him pass, you caught him doing the same. That day you had turned every shade of red as you hurried to hide in the lab. 

It made you begin to feel he was doing all he could to gain your attention. You felt flattered, but then again you wondered why. Every time he passed Thor was sure to smile, not to mention when you passed the training room he was sure to show off his strength. 

And you weren’t going to lie, you almost walked into the glass door leading out of the compound. Needless to say that earned a laugh but not from the god who had hurried out of the training room soaked in sweat, shirtless, to assure you were ok. 

Eventually his attempts became bolder after the discovery you were watching him, evidenced by you almost taking out the glass door. At that point he was rushing to open doors for you when he was around, even going as far as bringing things down to the lab; even when your assistant was more than capable.

From time to time he showed up with nothing, explaining he was just making sure you had what you needed and proceeded to look around the lab to assess if you were out of anything. You laughed at him, in turn he laughed and finally took the stool you offered to sit and watch you work.

You found his presence calming, even if he told old stories but he kept his animation to a minimum after almost knocking your things off the table. Thankfully you were fast and caught the delicate instrument before it fell to the floor and shattered. Thor gave you praises and made goosebumps travel your skin when he hand brushed yours.

His flesh burned hot against yours, but you felt the tingle it left in its place. Meeting his gaze, you gave a shy smile, that was when you noted the lonely look in his eye along with a need you couldn't quiet place. Blushing, you realized Thor was dying for your attentions, all of them.

That led to you asking if he would like to join you for dinner. All too quickly, Thor blurted yes to which you jumped slightly, and he had to calm himself.

"Yes," he responded quietly this time but with a giddy smile. "I would love to accompany you to dinner."

"It's just heated up leftovers," you informed him, but he only smiled bigger.

"Regardless, it is time spent with you," he was sure to inform you. 

It soon turned to evenings with the god assuring the two of you enjoyed dinner together by cooking for you himself. And he wasn’t bad, even if he was doing as the AI prompted him to. Many times he craved your attention so much he would forgo changing out of his armor after a mission to enjoy time with you. 

One evening he seemed extra attention seeking. So much so he was underfoot the entire day, insisting he help you work, another way of gaining your attention that wasn’t working. It was to the point you had taken enough and snapped at the god. 

“Thor,” you had all but screamed when you took a step back only to trip over said god's feet, dropping the tablet and weapon you were working on into the floor. Spinning on him you didn’t mean for your temper to flare so badly but working with Bucky and Sam, who were bickering extra hard today, had been you’re breaking point. 

“Jesus Thor! I see you! You don’t have to keep trying to impress me and be underfoot,” you spat out before you could stop yourself. Angered gaze meeting the god's apologetic one that still didn't register as you fumed and cursed under your breath. 

“I’m sorry dove,” Thor breathed, letting slip the pet name be had been calling you privately. 

The two of you knelt to pick up the tablet and pistol, meeting the gods gaze you immediately felt sick. The pet name, the hurt in his eyes and the fact he was still trying to gain your attention by picking up the pieces of a week's worth of endless work made you upset at your own self. 

“Ok. Thor,” you began taking the parts in your hand to place them on the counter with a huff. Instantly you felt his presence next to you, the gods large hands shaking as he placed the pieces he had picked up next to yours.

Turning attention back to Thor you noted his troubled look. No, it was more than troubled, it was wounded, vulnerable and raw. 

“I want it all,” the god finally blurted, the look of seriousness had your breath hitching and mind drawing blanks.  

“What,” you stammered like a complete idiot, a jolt running through you as he took your hands in his, not realizing you had somehow skinned your knuckles picking up the sharp pieces of the weapon and tablet. His touch was gentle as he appeared to fret over the oozing wound before continuing and meeting your gaze once more.

“I want-I need all your attention. All of it. It’s the only thing I can think about. You make me feel whole after all of this. Every time I look at you and you smile back, it- it gives me hope that it will get better," he blurted, looking over his face you swallowed hard.

"It does get better Thor. With time, you don't need me to-."

"I do, when I feel I have fallen out of favor with you, the self-loathing, the weight settles back on my chest and I can't breathe. You dove, it's you that quiets the chaos that hasn’t quieted for centuries,” he seemed to ramble, his hand holding to yours tight but not hurting, it felt as if he was afraid to release you as he freed a hand to cup your cheek.  

“Ok,” you smiled, you knew all too well what he meant, and the thoughts of centuries he suffered compared to your decades made your heart ache. You had to be there for him because you knew what it's like to be left alone to suffer. “You have my attention. What would you like to do?” 

That was what god needed to hear. Hastily he pulled you into strong form, hand wrapping to the nape of your neck to place your lips to his in a meaningful kiss full of passion. It was unexpected but you fell into him, your wounded hand still in his as the kiss broke for him to give you a shy smile.

"How about a week," he ventured cautiously, watching you for your answer.

"A week should be no problem," you smiled as he cherished over your cheek.

"A week may not be enough," he laughed, looking down to your wounded hand and shrugging off his long sleeve button down he wore over the t shirt you had told him fit well, and wrapping it around the still oozing gash.

"Then we will take it one day at a time," you breathed as he leaned close to your lips, nose nuzzling at yours.

"Aye dove, I'll follow your lead," he breathed, planting a chaste kiss on your lips before he swept you off your feet and into his arms to carry you out of the lab.   

Tags are OPEN! REBLOGS ALWAYS WELCOMED!

Tags:  @dark-night-sky-99 @gramaeryebard @katstablook @andiyholly @jovanna-shewolf @nickyl316h @aslandia726 @furstinnajoelle @itsbqueenthings @collinsstanharbour @jazzieomega @moonlightprime @bambamwolf87 @tomhardy41 @get-loki @drakonwild @alexakeyloveloki @scorpionchild81 @moonfaery 

Worth the Wait

Sirius Black x female reader

A/n: so funny enough I have a shit ton of wips that I've started weeks (months) ago, but this I started writing last night and finished this morning.

Summary: After escaping Azkaban, Sirius recalls an old promise to a close friend.

Warnings: SMUT!!! Some Fluff and some angst!

Sirius was dead tired. He was tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of being a fugitive.

Right now, he was trying to find a place to take refuge. Not only was the wizarding world hunting him down, but muggles too were keeping an eye out for him.

Every headline read the same ’Dangerous Sirius Black’, ‘Notorious Sirius Black’... He doubted there was a person left who would believe him, believe the truth.

At that moment, Sirius thought of you. He tried not to in Azkaban, those happy thoughts would have only drawn the dementors straight to him. In fact, his memories of you were his happiest ones.

He could picture your smiling face so clearly, the sun shining on you, your hair shimmering. He should've told you back then how he felt.

Why was he so damn scared to tell you? You were one of his closest friends, but he wanted you to be so much more.

Now after spending 12 years Azkaban, there wasn't much he could lose now except for maybe his sanity.

He had plenty of chances to tell you before. James and Remus were constantly on his case about it. God, even Lily got involved eventually. But, in fact, he had tried! Yet, it resulted in a ridiculous promise instead.

If there was one thing Sirius knew for sure, he was over 30 and single. ...

“Heard you broke up with that Prefect, babe,” Sirius snickered joining you on the bench.

You shrugged closing your book and setting it aside, “He got boring.”

Sirius laughed, “Got boring?... He's a Prefect, that's guaranteed boredom! Bad choice if you were looking for excitement.”

“Heard you dumped that girl from potions,” you pointed out.

“How'd you hear about that, already?” he narrowed his eyes. “It just happened this morning at breakfast.”

“Oh I know, she was crying and bitching about you in the girl's lavatory to all her friends,” you added in a playful tone.

Sirius rolled his eyes, “It wasn't like we were anything serious.”

“Got your eyes set on someone else, hm?”

“Not necessarily, but-”

“She wanted a commitment, something more meaningful than getting to second base in the common room?”

Sirius smiled, “Something like that.”

“In fact, Padfoot darling,” you mused. “I believe I'm the only girl left in Hogwarts whose heart you haven't broken.”

“Asking me out, sweetheart?” Sirius leaned closer to you.

Honestly, the thought of dating Sirius scared you, because you did love him. You were head over heels in love with him, but all that meant was that he had the power to completely crush you.

You scoffed, “Please, Sirius, if you ever broke my heart, I would have to hex you so bad no girl or boy would look at you the same way!”

“Who says I would break your heart!?” Sirius shot up from his seat. “You are just as notorious as I am. If anything you'd break mine.”

“Alright, then, we agree,” You swallowed thickly.

“Agree to what?” he asked lifting his eyebrow.

“Agree not to date, ever.”

“Ever?” he repeated slack-jawed.

You nodded.

“But-” Sirius's eyes darted back and forth. “That seems pretty extreme.”

“So what? You want to risk our friendship for just a few chances to snog?” you groaned.

“It just seems like a waste to not even try, y/n,” Sirius argued. “What if you're the one for me?”

You sighed loudly, trying to play it cool, but he was not letting up and you were running out of excuses. It was tempting to say yes, but both of you were notorious players. It seemed so unlikely that it would work out.

“How about a promise?” you finally proposed.

“A promise?”

“Yep,” you nodded looking him straight in the eye. “Let's say, if both of us are still single at 30 we get married?”

“Married!” Sirius shouted clearly startled. “That's quite different from dating.”

“I just mean, like a pact,” you quickly explained. “Just think of all the hearts we'll break between now to then?... Maybe you are the one for me, Sirius.”

Sirius smirked, “So what you're saying is that once we've exhausted all other options that we might as well just be with each other?”

“I suppose that's the gist of it.”

“You're lucky you're worth the wait,” Sirius winked. . . . “So how'd it go, Padfoot?” James asked slinging an arm around Sirius's shoulders, as he hopped into the seat next to him.

The Great Hall was bustling as students made their way in and out for lunch.

“It went…” Sirius drawled.

“It went?” Remus questioned sitting across from Sirius and pouring himself a cup of pumpkin juice.

“Don't tell us you didn't tell her!” James whined. “Who knows the next time she'll be available?”

“Listen,” Sirius started to explain. “I tried! I did! But it led elsewhere…”

“Elsewhere? How could “Y/n I love you!” go elsewhere?” James argued, taking a bite out of a roll.

“I didn't tell her that!” Sirius huffed. “I tested the waters… and well, in 14 or so years we'll be married.”

“What?” they said simultaneously.

The look on James and Remus's faces when he told them about the pact was priceless.

“Well, that definitely is elsewhere,”  Remus chuckled.

Sirius groaned, burying his head in his hands, “Why couldn't I just tell her?”

“Honestly, it's not that hard, mate. Watch,” James instructed. He stood up and spotted Lily at the opposite end of the long table.

“Hey, Evans!” he shouted drawing her attention to him. “I love you!”

She rolled her eyes and tried to ignore him.

James, as usual, was persistent, as quick as he could he headed over to where Lily was sitting.

Remus shook his head and sighed, “Perhaps, that's what you're so afraid of.”

….

Sirius took a deep breath. This was a longshot. He was aware of that. But he had no one he could turn to. And this, this was the one thing he wanted to do before hunting that rat bastard down.

He couldn't believe his eyes as he peered into the window. There you were, somehow even more beautiful than he remembered.

You were busy cooking dinner. He watched a while longer just to make sure that you were alone.

This could be his last chance after all. Throwing caution to the wind, Sirius transformed from being a dog back to a man.

He tried your doorknob and to his surprise, it was unlocked. Quietly, he walked into your home.

“Y/n?”

Immediately, the bowl you were holding slipped from your grasp and shattered on the floor. You couldn't believe your eyes.

“Please don't scream, y/n, please,” Sirius begged.

You clutched your chest, tears threatening to fall. He looked so different, so thin.

“Sirius?” Carefully, you tiptoed towards him. Your fingertips brushed against his cheek, his face was pale and gaunt.

He seemed slightly startled by the physical contact but relaxed noting how long it had it been since he's felt this kind of gentleness.

He smiled, but you could tell underneath that he wanted to cry with you.

“Y/n, I…” Sirius didn't know where to start. Should he try to convince you of his innocence? Explain why he escaped? Tell you how he feels?

His eyes searched yours, but he couldn't get himself to speak. This was wrong, he shouldn't be getting you involved.

“So whose heart have you broken, now?” you teased, wiping away a few stray tears.

“What?” Sirius blinked in surprise.

“Sirius Black showing up out of nowhere…” you explained placing a hand on your hip. “You're a few years late.”

“Sorry about that, love,” he murmured, catching on to your game. A clever way for you to let him know that you're still single, that you still remembered.

“Does a summer wedding sound good to you?” you joked.

“Best time of the year for a wedding, in my opinion,” he played along.

God how he missed this, the banter, the flirting… just being able to be himself with you. You understood him in a way, very few people did.

“I think a small guest list would be best, practical you know?” you continued. You waved your wand and pieces of shattered glass reassembled themselves.

“Really? I always figured you'd want to invite everyone, really rub it in their faces that you're officially off the market.”

“That sounds more like you, dear,” you smirked.

Sirius froze for a moment, spotting his reflection in a mirror. He barely recognized himself. He was an absolute mess covered in God knows what. He probably didn't smell too great either.

He gulped, feeling his confidence slip away, “I'm quite a sight.”

“You just need to wash up!” You showed Sirius to your bathroom, “Help yourself to anything.”

“Anything?” Sirius purred.

“Sirius,” you stated in a stern voice, but you smiled. “Let's save the flirting until after your shower.”

He laughed, already starting to strip before even closing the bathroom door.

The warm water felt so pleasant as Sirius stepped into the shower.

He couldn't believe how it felt to be with you again. For the first time in a decade, Sirius felt human, not just an empty shell. He could feel all the muscles in his body relax, as he started to get comfortable.

He was so worried, that everything would feel awkward and different, that maybe you wouldn't even give him a chance. But you did, you welcomed him with open arms.

He took his time scrubbing every inch of himself. It only makes sense, when someone spends most of their time as a dog, the dirt and grime really start to build up.

Finally, feeling clean Sirius stepped out of the shower. His face looked a little bit better already.

“Y/n sweetheart, that smells fantastic,” Sirius complimented walking into the kitchen.

You laughed, “It's just soup-”

You almost choked seeing Sirius. He was practically naked, just a towel loosely hanging around his hips.

“Are you hungry, too?” he wiggled his brow. “Cause you're drooling.”

“Well, I'm sure if I were topless, you'd also be drooling too.”

“Actually, just the thought alone is pretty tempting.”

You shook your head, “Did you come here for refuge and to reconnect or just to get laid?”

“Can't it be both?” he shrugged.

“Sirius,” you sighed. You had so many questions. Why was he here? What exactly happened that night? What was he planning on doing now?

“I know, y/n,” he muttered, he knew what you were thinking and you had every right to be wary, but he wasn't ready to bring all that up. Not when he was just starting to remember what happy felt like.

“There are so many things for us to discuss but…” he pleaded. “But for right now, for tonight, let me have this.”

You cupped both sides of his face and looked into those gray eyes you loved so much.

“Alright, we'll pretend everything is fine,” you murmured.

You tilted your head and pressed your lips to his. At first, Sirius didn't react, until he recovered from the shock of what was happening.

Cautiously, he held your waist and pulled you closer to him. The kiss began to heat up as your lips parted and his tongue slipped into your mouth.

You moaned at the sensation of his tongue rolling against yours.

Sirius smirked against your lips. He then breaks the kiss and latches onto your neck. His kisses are desperate and hungry. His tongue explores your tender skin and his teeth nibble on the nape of your neck.

You threw your head back, giving him better access to explore your other sweet spots, “More.”

“I'm happy to oblige,” Sirius helped you out of your shirt and bra, dropping both onto the floor.

You shuffled out of your shorts and kicked them aside. You touched across his chest and over his shoulders. Studying the symbols tattooed on his pale skin. You ran your fingers through his damp hair. This time you peppered him with kisses all over his collarbone.

You kissed along his jawline feeling his stubble and beard tickling your cheek. Your breasts pushed against his chest.

The skin to skin contact felt amazing.

Feeling your hands and body pressed against his skin healed him in a way nothing else ever could. All those years spent numb and alone immediately erased by your warm and loving touch.

“Don't stop touching me,” he mewled. “I don't think I've needed anything more.”

All he wanted was to be with you like this forever. To remain forever in your warmth, to not ever have to feel that coldness again.

You noticed the towel he was wearing was starting to pitch a tent. Carefully you palmed his erection and watched as Sirius closed his eyes and bit his lip.

You could feel how long and thick his cock was through the fabric. It didn't take much for you to undo it, letting the towel fall to his feet.

His moans were music to your ears as you stroked the shaft of his cock. He grabbed your hand, tugging it away from his dick.

“Sorry,” he chuckled lightly. “But I won't last long if you continue.”

Sirius guided you onto your back on the floor. He positioned himself between your legs, rubbing the tip of cock between your folds. He used your wetness to lubricate his shaft.

Typically, he would've done so much more before fucking like rubbing your clit, edging you to the near brink of an orgasm, fingering your tight cunt. But he couldn't hold out much longer, his self-control wearing thin.

He grunted and huffed as he pressed his cock inside of you. Your slick walls squeezed deliciously around his shaft.

“Sirius,” you gasped as his cock stretched your little hole.

He paused for a minute, allowing you time to adjust and giving himself a moment to admire your lovely face as it contorts.

He began to rock in and out of you. His cock reaching deeper and deeper into your cunt. Your back arched as he hit your g-spot.

You reached out, feeling his shoulder blades move and his muscles tighten.

You head started to spin as you became overwhelmed by pleasure. The only sounds you could hear were Sirius's panting and the wet slapping sounds of your flesh and his making contact.

You can feel your climax building. Soon your toes curl and you tremble as your body drifts into a euphoric state.

Sirius's nails dug into your thighs as he shudders against you. Your own orgasm causing him to cum. He grunts and growls loudly as he fills your pussy with his sperm.

His cock stayed buried in your cunt as he collapsed on top of you. That was probably the most intimate and emotional sex you've ever had.

The kitchen floor felt so cold against your hot skin. Needily, Sirius's arms were wrapped tightly around your waist and his head nestled between your breasts.

“I love you, y/n. I wish I had told you sooner.”

You felt his tears run down onto your chest.

“I love you too,” you cooed playing with his hair.

“I want to stay but I can't…you deserve-”

“Shut it,” you reprimanded him. “I don't want to hear that. You're mine now, Sirius.”

“Y/n, I have to clear my name, I have to avenge James and Lily…” he explained, he nuzzled against you, needing more of your warmth. “I need to explain it all to my godson… to Harry.”

“Of course,” you swallowed, trying to hold back tears.

“We agreed on a summer wedding, right?” he mused quietly.

You nodded.

“I'll have this all sorted out by then, I promise,” he assured. Sirius raised his head, his hand gently caressing the side of your face. “Think you can wait a little longer for me?”

“You're worth the wait,” you whispered, placing your hand on top of his.

taglist: @princess-sweatpants @xfeathered-serpent @edendescending @letskillthefuhrer

For the Softer World prompts, either 31 for Anakin or 34 for Anakin/Padme?

for this AU. also, the long-awaited appearance of Padmé Amidala!

34: When you’re around I don’t know how to hide my feelings. I count in binary, in my head. zero one one zero one one and you count clouds (while you count clouds)

title: and you count clouds

–

Say there are over seven billion people in the world, at this moment. Say that there are three hundred twenty five million people in the United States of America alone, and that there are eight million people in New York City alone, all minding their own business, not counting the ones only passing by.

Now say there’s a woman out there, with warm brown eyes and a smile like the sun. Her hair’s pinned back, her touch is light, and her breath comes easy and tickles against tanned skin.

Now say she still loves him.

Anakin knows he can’t. Not for sure. It’s an untested hypothesis, or so he’ll claim, and it doesn’t bear testing because he knows, for a fact, that Padmé died because of him. And she knows that, he’s sure. And–

And most days he can’t even look himself in the mirror. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to look her in the eye, doesn’t want to think about what he might find there–anger, hatred, fear.

He hadn’t. He hadn’t meant to.

But he’d done it anyway.

Love won’t save you, he thinks, viciously, looking up from the sink and at his reflection in the mirror.

Except it had. Except he can listen to Darcy pontificate about some movie he happens to be in all day and even she’ll return to the point that Luke had saved him, because he’d loved him. He’d seen something worth loving, in the ruined creature Anakin Skywalker had become, and pulled it out into the light.

He looks down again.

He doesn’t know if Padmé will see the same thing. He doesn’t think so, but a treacherous little part of him thinks, she might, she might, she might.

But it’s a pipe dream.

“Stop thinking about it,” he tells himself. His voice reverberates in the bathroom. “Get to work. There’s eight million people in this city, you’re not going to run into her on the street.”

He’ll run into a number of other things on the street, first. Not her. Never her.

He’s not sure if he should be grateful for that.

–

He doesn’t run into her on the street.

–

One of the fun things about being a Respected Scientist, with many frequently-cited (and frequently-plagiarized, you’re welcome desperate college students) papers to his name and a number of schools clamoring for his attention, is that sometimes, he’s asked to come judge entries at a science fair. For example: Columbia University, his alma mater, is holding a science fair.

Okay, they’re calling it a science and engineering expo, not a fair, but it’s definitely a fair. He knows it from the second he steps onto the grounds and smells food, the scent of it beckoning him closer.

“Wait up,” Darcy complains behind him. Anakin chuckles, slows his stride down to let her catch up. “Why do you have to be freakishly tall? Jerk.”

“You don’t complain when it’s Ahsoka,” he says.

“Because she’s my girlfriend,” says Darcy. Duh, she doesn’t add, but Anakin sees it when she rolls her eyes skyward. “Ooh, what’re they cooking? Do you know?”

“Flavored fries,” says Anakin.

“Jedi stuff?” says Darcy.

“No,” says Anakin, pointing at a slightly pitiful banner that’s hanging on to the stand by a thread, flapping sadly in the wind. “They’ve got a banner.”

Darcy glares up at him, but follows anyway. “So Ahsoka and Selvig are busy setting up the table and arguing with the other judges,” she starts, and Anakin lets her chatter at him while he orders their food, breaking into her rant only to ask her what she’ll be having.

She keeps it up even once they find a table, and just in time too, because there’s just the one left. Fries are popular, apparently.

“You hoping to see anything this year?” says Darcy, sitting down as Anakin pulls his notebook out from his bag.

“A working hyperdrive,” he shoots back, sitting down as well and opening the notebook. “Barring that, an EM drive. I know NASA’s working on one right now, I keep hearing people talking about that.”

“Good luck with that,” Darcy snorts. “What else?”

“Maybe a chocolate volcano,” says Anakin, dryly, scribbling equations in his notebook. “Like a high schooler’s volcano project, except with more chocolate.”

“That’d be the day,” says Darcy, dreamily.

Anakin hums in answer. “Anyway, a few years back Dr. Connors came up with splicing animal genes onto humans as a cure for whatever disease you might think of, and got Oscorp to pick him up for it.” He looks up from his notebook, twirls his pen in between his fingers. “I know there’s a few other entries going that route, now that he’s kind of gone off the deep end, I figure maybe one of them will get picked.”

“Why’d they ask you to judge, then?” says Darcy, propping her chin up on her hand. “Genetics isn’t your thing.”

“Because technically this is a general science fair,” says Anakin, “and they at least need to give off the appearance of being fair.” He shrugs. “Anyway, I get a free lunch, a plaque with my name on it, and a chance to show Richards up, so really, I’m not complaining.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Darcy says, with a snort of laughter.

Anakin looks back down at his notebook with a smile, and starts absently writing another equation, P = 2πr / v, solve for the value of v if r is 10 and P is–

“Excuse me, is anyone else sitting here?”

Anakin looks up.

His pen clatters to the table.

Padmé. Padmé is standing in front of him, holding a Coke can, asking if he’s willing to let her sit at his table, and her eyes grow wide when their gazes lock, and his throat goes dry. She’s changed, he thinks, there’s a streak of grey in her hair, almost permanent dark circles under her eyes, but she’s as radiant as she ever was, and all he can think of is her warm brown eyes and her soft skin and her laugh like bells and the diameter of the sun, 139100 kilometers 1.3914 billion meters–

“Sure, you can definitely sit here!” Darcy chirps, unmindful of Anakin’s inner crisis. “And–holy shit! Kirsten fucking McDuffie, is that you?”

“Hey, Darcy,” chirps another girl, with light brown skin, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. “I got out of the publishing business, thanks to Ms. Avery here.”

“Congrats,” says Darcy. “Hi, Miss–”

“Patricia Avery,” says Padmé, still staring at him.

Darcy pauses, looks between the two of them. “Um,” she says, realization dawning on her face.

“Um,” McDuffie echoes. “Uh. I guess we’ll leave the both of you to it?”

“Please do,” says Anakin.

–

The girls leave, chattering all the while about each other’s lives–Thor and Greenwich, the rumors of a black-clad vigilante emerging from Hell’s Kitchen.

Padmé sits down at the table and says, to her long-lost husband, “You look well, Anakin.”

He doesn’t quite flinch, but she sees him tugging self-consciously on his bracelet anyway. “You too,” he says, at last. “Um. You’ve. You look good. Distinguished, even. Like an angel.” He pauses, winces. “God, no, that was bad.”

Padmé ducks her head, hides her smile by taking a quick sip of Coke, and says, “No, no, it’s fine,” she says. “Distinguished is–fine.” She absently swirls the soda around in its can, and says, “So, uh–Ahsoka mentioned you’d come back.”

Anakin blinks at her. “She’s been in touch with you?” he asks, and there’s a flash of hurt in his tone. Hurt that she put there, she thinks, and something twinges painfully in her chest at the thought.

“I asked her not to mention me,” she says. “You were amnesiac, and then–” She shrugs. “I had to get my head together.”

“Been doing that since Greenwich,” Anakin mutters, looking down at his notebook and writing something. Padmé looks up, watches the clouds pass overhead before she looks back down at him. “I, um. I didn’t think. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Otherwise I might’ve avoided you, he doesn’t say.

Honestly, she’s pretty sure she would’ve done the same.

“I’m a lawyer,” she says. “Usually this isn’t my scene.”

“So why make an exception this year?” says Anakin.

“Kirsten,” says Padmé, with a long-suffering sigh. There’s a giant bantha in the room, and it smells like the pits of Mustafar, sounds like Anakin snarling liar, liar. “I’m technically here as a legal consultant on patent laws. I have a booth and everything. You?”

“I’m a judge,” says Anakin. “They wanted a space guy to round out their panel, I guess.”

“Neat,” says Padmé, and she mentally slaps herself. Neat! For fuck’s sake–one of the first things she says to him in decades, and it’s just neat. God, how long has it been since she dated anyone? “Oh, god, that was just–”

“I know,” says Anakin. “Can we start over? I mean. No, I–”

“God, yes, I mean–only if you’re offering–”

They stop, and stare at each other.

Then Padmé bursts into a fit of laughter, and says, “Goddammit, and here I had a speech planned.”

“At least you had a speech planned,” says Anakin, with a shaky laugh, “I was sort of thinking I’d just never see you again. I mean,” he waves a hand at the stall, at the college, at the grounds, “eight million people in New York, give or take. I figured I had good odds.”

He smiles at her, brittle and scared, so much like the boy she had once known and not at the same time.

She lets out a breath, reaches across the table to brush her fingers over his.

He breathes out and says, quiet, “I’m--sorry. I know it’s not. I know it’s not enough to just say sorry for everything I’ve done, especially to you and to--to our children. I know I’ve been a terrible husband, a worse father, and if you never forgive me or never want to see me again--” He swallows, continues, “I’d be okay with that. It’d be what I deserve. I just--I want you to know that I’m sorry. And I loved you, I love you, truly, deeply.”

Enough to let her go, she realizes, when he pulls his hand away, reaches up to wipe at his eyes.

She reaches out again, and takes his hand, slender and slightly-calloused fingers settling over his gloved hand. “I love you,” she says, “truly and deeply. I can’t forget what you did to me, or to our children, or to the galaxy, no, but I always knew there was a little bit of light still inside you.” She rubs her fingers absently along his knuckles, and says, “I want to see you again, Anakin. And--well, last time we didn’t exactly work out all that well.”

“Yeah,” says Anakin, ducking his head, almost shy. “Yeah, I mean, Darcy has opinions about that, she won’t stop talking my ear off about how the beginning of a war was a stupid time to get married.”

“Neither will Kirsten,” says Padmé. “So, I guess--this time we’ll try and. Take it a little slower. What do you think?”

Anakin sets his pen down and rests his other hand over hers. “A little slower,” he says, softly. “Yeah. That’s a good plan.” He smiles again, and this time she thinks of bright blue eyes, a sunset on Naboo. “I have a Starbucks gift card and some free time for lunch tomorrow before I have to start going around the expo. You?”

“Well,” says Padmé, with a snort of laughter, “fine, then.” She grins at him, and says, “I have to say, I’ve never been wooed with Starbucks before.”

She expects the jealousy that flashes across his face in that moment, but she doesn’t expect him to let out a sigh and say, “Well, my favorite diner got torn up in the Chitauri attack, so my options are pretty limited.”

“I could take you out,” she says. “I know a place or two.”

“You really don’t have to,” says Anakin, his expression softening. “It’s the first date, and besides, I actually do like Starbucks. They make amazing frappuccinos.”

“There is no way your favorite chain café is better than a five-star restaurant, Ani,” huffs Padmé.

“I am so glad you proposed this taking it slow plan,” says Anakin, with a growing smirk, “because it absolutely could.”

--

Darcy stops in her tracks, squints at the two.

Kirsten says, dryly, “I think we’d better leave them to it.”

“Yeah, probably,” Darcy decides, taking a fry from the bag that she’s designated as Anakin’s. “So when did you find out?” she asks.

“She walked in on me watching Attack of the Clones and said, ‘oh, that’s the one with me in it,’ and I’ve never been the same since,” says Kirsten. “You?”

“It’s a very long story,” says Darcy. “Hey, come on, I wanna see your booth and crow about how much more awesome ours is.”

--

end.

What You Should Eat According To The Stars: Your February Astrological Food Forecast

Welcome to your monthly food forecast, where we've partnered with the inimitable AstroTwins to find out exactly what will make you feel as amazing as possible, based on the stars. "As the Sun travels through each month-long astrological cycle, it emphasizes a different energy for every zodiac sign," says Ophira, one of the Twins. "Some months are more decadent, while others are more about discipline. Eating with these solar cycles can help you avoid falling into a culinary rut, or beating yourself up when you crave something creamy when a couple weeks ago you were fine with blander options." Be sure to check back in March for all new food picks! Aquarius: Your sun is in the first house, which is all about adventure. This month, you'll want to get into new food trends—maybe experiment with adding adaptogens to your morning latte or slipping some seaweed into your bone broth. While people of this sign tend to be into lighter fare, this is a good month to go for things that feel more substantial and heavy. You want to feel grounded, rooted, and secure. Recipe to try: This 'shroom shake will make your feel earthy, grounded, and adventurous, all in one. Pisces: Pisces are the rulers of the 12th house! This month, you'll want to let your imagination really flow. This is not the time to go on a rigid eating plan, since you're feeling more creative and loose and won't want to weigh yourself down with the details. Go for food on the artsier side—look for beautiful colors, textures, or foods you can eat with your hands. Recipe to try: This plant-based power bowl will let your creativity really shine. Master the basic formula and you can spend the rest of the month playing around with ingredients to your heart's content! Aries: As an Aries, you're definitely an individual, and this applies to your food life as well. You eat what you want to eat, when you want to eat it. This, however, is your month to branch out. Get suggestions from friends or websites you love and expand your palate. Try new restaurants and new recipes. Beyond what you're eating, expand who you're eating with. Cook with friends, and have conversations outside of your comfort zone. Just be sure to talk about things that make you feel good; as an Aries, you can be prone to anger, and you want to consume to nourish you, from the food to the conversation. Recipe to try: Host a healthy brunch with these five totally unexpected recipes—including a shakshuka that will have all of your friends talking. Taurus: While Tauruses do like a certain amount of structure, you're also very decadent. Indulge your planning side by embracing meal prep, and make sure that every meal you eat is well-balanced (no mono-meals or lazy cereal dinners this month!). Stay away from family-style dinners this month, as you want to make sure everything is proportioned perfectly. Stash a bag of almonds in your purse so you never have to improvise and grab something unhealthy when you're on the go. Recipe to try: This sweet potato, cauliflower, and chard-based meal-prep plan lets you cook once and have healthy meals on hand for the rest of the week. Gemini: As a Gemini, you have a childlike side that sometimes shows up in your eating habits. While you're one of the most sophisticated conversationalists around, you might accompany that witty verbiage with some macaroni and cheese or M&Ms. On the other hand, Geminis can often be extremely healthy eaters, with regimented rules about the types of food they deem "good enough" to consume. Either way, this is a great month to expand. Branch away from your norm, either by trying things that are less bland and more daring than normal or things that feel a bit more decadent—hot chocolate, almond flour cake, delicious cultured butter on sprouted toast. Recipe to try: This cauliflower "toast" is spiced with dukkah, an Egyptian spice blend that will brighten your palate, while the poached egg on top adds a gorgeous richness. Cancer: This is a great month to add a ritual to your eating experience instead of simply wolfing down everything on your plate. As a Cancer, you're used to looking for meaning in everything, and this is your permission slip to fully indulge that. Connect food to experiences. Eat something that reminds you of childhood. Light a candle and take a moment to reflect on how the food tastes and what memories and emotions its raises. This is a great month to look for textural and rich food as well. Recipe to try: This chocolate bark is basically a grown-up Hershey bar. Savor it bite by bite and reflect on when you first ate chocolate, and some special moments sweets have come into play in your life. Leo As a Leo, you tend to like to take things over, with an "I'll do it myself!" attitude that permeates every element of your life, including your food. This month, try to practice the fine arts of cooperation and collaboration. Let someone else make you a meal (without micromanaging every move!). If you're always the giver, try receiving for once. Flavorwise, this month is all about fusion, balancing two contrasting flavors into something harmonious (think sweet and salty, sour and spicy, or even mixing two cultures, like Indian-inspired tacos). Recipe to try: This Moroccan-spiced sweet potato soup will hit the spot. Let a friend make it for you (or with you, but let her take the lead!) and then sit back and enjoy together. Virgo: Virgos rule the sixth house, so you'll really be in the zone this month. You tend to be a health-conscious sign, and you love to count and quantify everything. This is a great month to fully indulge that side of your personality. Geek out on science-based nutrition articles, and try some new recipes, enjoying the process of following the instructions and measuring out all of the ingredients. This is also a great month to find out where your food comes from—try talking to your local farmer at the market, or even joining a CSA. Recipe to try: Baking is notoriously scientific, but this grain-free chocolate ganache tart is easy enough to be fun and exacting enough to indulge your scientific side. Libra: As a Libra, you tend toward romance but enjoy a modern version of it. This month, the sun is in your fifth house, which is all about drama and passion. It's a great month to let yourself go a little bit! Don't try to hold back in terms of your food choices—indulge yourself in rich, decadent treats. If you're in a relationship, prioritize having a super-sexy Valentine's Day, and if you're not, try to be indulgent that day anyways, cooking up a scrumptious brunch with a group of friends. One caveat: Because you can get out of balance easily, make sure to have some greens every time you have chocolate, or a salad with that mouth-watering plate of tacos. Recipe to try: This aphrodisiac hot chocolate will tickle your taste buds and get you fired up for an amazing night, whether it's with yourself or a partner. Scorpio: Scorpios tend to me more private, but this month, with the sun in the home part of your chart, it's a great time to really open your space to other people and focus on deepening your relationships. Invite people over for dinner, or go to lunch with your coworkers and open up about your out-of-office life a bit more. You can also strengthen your bonds through making food, maybe trying out an old family recipe (and updating it to make it a little healthier!). Recipe to try: This hygge-inspired dinner party makes hosting super cozy, stress-free, and not intimidating at all. Sagittarius: Sagittariuses are very communal, and this month is a particularly great time to gather with your friends—but with an emphasis on local. This means checking out a new spot in your neighborhood, or doing a staycation where you sample healthy treats from around your city. Buying super-local food will make your body feel especially good, as will taking ideas from your favorite restaurants and recreating. Recipe to try: These carrot pigs-in-a-blanket and strawberry jalapeño quinoa bites are the perfect nosh for having your friends over to watch the Oscars or Super Bowl. Capricorn: You already follow a Capricorn-esque less-is-more attitude, which can result in a taste for more simple foods. This is the month to let yourself have something a little richer and spend a bit more money indulging in luxury. Think beautiful green juices, checking out new restaurants, treating yourself to that orange blossom yogurt you're obsessed with. It's a good month to stock up on high-quality, expensive ingredients as well, so take a look at your spice and oil cabinet and see what you need (and remember: good-quality spices make everything taste amazing and often contain many more health benefits, so it's worth the spend!). Recipe to try: Use all those spices and exotic ingredients to make these Ayurvedic celery root pancakes.

Alexander Acosta, Twitter, Rip Torn: Your Wednesday Briefing

(Want to get this briefing by email? Here’s the sign-up.)

Good morning.

We’re covering the Jeffrey Epstein case and its consequences for the Trump administration, Twitter’s new guidelines on offensive speech, and the death of the maverick presidential candidate Ross Perot.

Breaking

Britain’s ambassador to the U.S., Kim Darroch, is stepping down. A leak of his memos had elicited a furious reaction from President Trump.

Pressure builds on Trump’s labor chief

Alexander Acosta, the labor secretary, is facing growing calls to resign over a plea deal he cut as a U.S. attorney in Florida in 2008 that allowed the financier Jeffrey Epstein to bring an end to a sex crimes case and to serve only 13 months in jail. Mr. Epstein was newly indicted this week on charges of child sex trafficking.

The 2008 deal was seen by many as far too lenient, and, while Mr. Acosta cited new evidence and testimony in welcoming Mr. Epstein’s latest indictment, his critics are unlikely to be satisfied.

Voices: In a series of meticulously researched articles for The Miami Herald, Julie Brown, an investigative journalist, identified about 80 of Mr. Epstein’s alleged victims and revealed the secret negotiations behind the 2008 plea deal. She spoke to The Times on Tuesday about the latest developments in the case.

Go deeper: The Times has profiled Mr. Epstein, a money manager who once socialized with princes and celebrities while remaining an enigma.

Notable: Mr. Epstein’s influential friends included former President Bill Clinton. President Trump once called the financier a “terrific guy” but now says he is “not a fan.”

New Twitter rules for a president (and for everyone else)

A federal appeals court ruled on Tuesday that President Trump had violated the Constitution by blocking Twitter users who criticized or mocked him. Because he uses Twitter to conduct government business, the court said, he could not exclude Americans from reading or engaging with his posts because he did not like their opinions.

The ruling was one of the highest-profile decisions yet in a growing constellation of cases addressing what the First Amendment means in a time when political expression increasingly takes place online.

Related: Twitter unveiled its first official guidelines on Tuesday on what constitutes “dehumanizing” speech, starting with language it considers unacceptable when directed toward religious groups.

Ross Perot, gadfly who shook up politics, dies at 89

Mr. Perot was a Texas businessman who ran for president twice in the 1990s on a third-party platform that idealized small-town life and tarred Washington as a hotbed of corruption. He died on Tuesday.

French bosses are accused of driving employees to suicide

A decade ago, top executives at France Télécom wanted to shrink the company by thousands of workers. But most of those workers were state employees with jobs guaranteed for life.

The executives, prosecutors say, resolved to make life so unbearable that workers would leave. Instead, at least 35 — feeling trapped and betrayed — took their own lives. The former executives now face charges of “moral harassment.”

Big picture: The trial has riveted a country that is deeply conflicted about capitalism and corporate culture, and raises questions about how far companies should go in search of profit and efficiency.

If you have 8 minutes, this is worth it

A legendary newspaper stops the presses

A newsboy selling The Chicago Defender in 1942.CreditJack Delano/Farm Security Administration, via Library of Congress

For generations, The Chicago Defender was a voice for African-American communities and an essential outlet for any politician who hoped to win black voters.

The Defender — which first went to press in 1905 — will cease printing after today, though its digital operation will continue.

Here’s what else is happening

Court blocks census moves: A federal judge in New York rejected the Justice Department’s request to switch its legal team midway through a case that challenges the Trump administration’s effort to add a citizenship question to next year’s count.

Democrats bicker: Tensions between Nancy Pelosi, the speaker of the House, and three liberal freshmen have reinvigorated an argument within the Democratic Party about how best to stand up to the president.

Obamacare under fire: A panel of federal judges heard oral arguments on Tuesday in an appeals case that challenges the Affordable Care Act’s constitutionality — and they sounded skeptical of the arguments in its defense.

Border arrests drop: Arrests at the southwestern border dropped by 28 percent in June, to 104,344. In May, they had reached the highest monthly total in 13 years. (Border crossings typically increase in the spring and slip in June and July.)

Snapshot: Above, floods inundated Washington on Monday, demonstrating the vulnerability of an aging storm-water system in the era of climate change.

Late-night comedy: Most shows are in reruns, so our column is taking the week off.

In memoriam: Rip Torn, who starred on “The Larry Sanders Show” in the 1990s, died on Tuesday in Connecticut. He was 88.

Ex-champion advances at Wimbledon: Serena Williams beat Barbora Strycova to reach the semifinals. If Ms. Williams wins the tournament, she would match Margaret Court’s record of 24 Grand Slam singles titles.

A new “fish” for sale: Impossible Foods, creator of a meatless burger, is introducing a (fish-less) fish product. The company has promised to design replacements for every animal-based food on the market by 2035.

What we’re reading: This first-person essay in Harper’s Bazaar by Serena Williams about her heated U.S. Open match last year, accompanied by unretouched photos. Alisha Haridasani Gupta, on the briefings team, says, “It’s the tennis star at her most raw, unfiltered self.”

Now, a break from the news

Cook: They’re s’mores without the campfire, but these blondies are still great.

Listen: The video to Miley Cyrus’s “Mother’s Daughter” offers assorted fetish wear, a determinedly inclusive cast of extras, and slogans. It’s an anthem to share.

Watch: The writer and director Ari Aster narrates a scene from his film “Midsommar” featuring Florence Pugh and some powerful mushroom tea.

Smarter Living: Don’t struggle for perfection. Two strategies can help you just get a job done. First, break the task into small, achievable steps. Second, focus on the process rather than the outcome so you can enjoy the progress you’re making.

And here’s how you can make small changes in your behavior, surroundings and relationships for a happier life.

And now for the Back Story on …

Modern manners

For a psychoactive substance that’s still nominally illegal in most of the world, cannabis has never been more popular — and that means it’s time to mind our manners beyond “don’t bogart that joint.”

Lizzie Post, the great-great-granddaughter of the American etiquette doyenne Emily Post, delves into the finer points with a new book called “Higher Etiquette,” which Dwight Garner, a Times book critic, calls “helpful and inquisitive.”

Among her recommendations: Thoughtful hosts should provide finger bowls so a guest can dampen a joint that’s burning unevenly, and should place vape pens “to the right of the setting or across the top of the setting either between the place card and dessertware or behind the place card.”

As for bogarting — that’s wastefully hanging on to a joint without smoking it — Ms. Post notes that the term is “derived from the way Humphrey Bogart would just let a cigarette hang out of his mouth, not seeming to actually smoke it.”

That’s it for this briefing. See you next time.

— Mike

Thank you To Mark Josephson and Eleanor Stanford for the break from the news. Adam Pasick, on the briefings team, wrote today’s Back Story. You can reach the team at [email protected].

P.S. • We’re listening to “The Daily.” Today’s episode is on the plan to elect Republican women. • Here’s today’s Mini Crossword, and a clue: Site of a recent Trump/Kim meeting, for short (3 letters). You can find all our puzzles here. • The travel editor for The New York Times, Amy Virshup, announced that her desk would buy carbon offsets for airplane travel by staff members on assignment, including our 52 Places Traveler.

Sahred From Source link World News

from WordPress http://bit.ly/2XU7ElG via IFTTT