#Early game units stand out more I think but the further into the game you get

[dailyadventureprompts]

Homebrew Mechanic: Bumpercar Combat

I'm going to keep most of my reasoning behind developing this system below the cut but I think we can all agree that D&D's combat can be painfully static. I love fight scenes but after going down a combined stage combat/ videogame boss design rabbit hole I've realized that one of the primary elements is missing from D&D's combat system, namely: Movement

From a mechanical perspective, D&D combat needs movement to break up the monotony of non-spellcater characters throwing punches at eachother until one of them drops, to introduce increased risk and randomness without damage-spike abilities.

From a narrative perspective, D&D combat needs movement to introduce tension and to help put character into day to day fighting beyond just flavor text. Likewise, fights that give different opportunities for movement will feel different from one another, making them stand out in the party's mind.

So without further ado I present my fun new system, which will have your party and their enemies bouncing around the battlefield like a demolition derby:

Press the attack: If you attack a creature and your initial attack roll is higher than their constitution score, you can force them to shift 5 ft into any of the tree squares opposite from your position. You then move to occupy the space they did.  

Back to a Wall:  Walls and other substantial barriers grant attackers the benefits of flanking as if they were a threatening creature. 

Give Ground: If you are attacked in melee and the initial roll is lower than your dexterity score you may shift into any adjacent square, forcing the opponent to move into the space you previously occupied. If you are attacked at a range, you may still shift, but the attacker loses any cover bonuses they might have till the start of their next turn rather than moving. 

Tripping Hazard: If you force an opponent into a square that could be considered rough terrain ( such as if it was occupied by a chair, or down a slippery slope) the target drops prone. 

First things first I want to say that this system is largely inspired by the dynamic combat movement rules by raventear productions, which I found over on reddit. It's a great system but the more I thought about it the more I realized that introducing extra rolls into combat was adding extra bloat to combat, and so I needed to retool the system to ensure that the party weren't having to roll any more dice than they normally would. My goal with homebrew is always to add more options, not bloat.

Also, go check out@jillbearup over on youtube, her series breaking down cinematic fights was one of the main drivers behind wanting to find a homebrew system like this in the first place.

Finally, long hours spent watching @ohnoitstbskyen 's in depth bloodborne playthough got me thinking about the design of fights, and the right combination of enemies and environment can truly elevate the player(s) experience. I'm also working on my own bloodborne game which gave me a reason to finalize this system.

Now lets get on to why I wanted to build this system in the first place: D&D combat is at risk of being painfully slow and boring, as it's aged the depths to which it can be slow and/or boring have only increased. While part of that is up to the skill of players at the table, I largely chalk it up to the fact that the base system of combat isn't much changed from the days of old tabletop wargaming....characters and monsters control like army units, clashing up against one another till one side drops or some spellcaster drops an AoE ( artillery). That rigidity is fine when one person is controling a whole army of units, but I think every melee character has been in a position where they're slugging away with the same old attack while the wizards get to do cool shit.

The system sort of worked back In the early days when characters and monsters could only take a couple of hits before dropping, but as the editions progressed and everything got more complex what might have first been a quick life or death clash turned into a slugfest. Attacks of opportunity and rigid flanking rules specifically encouraged this slowdown, and 4th edition, the only attempt outside of the battemaster to really play with positioning crashed and burned mainly due to WotC's incompetence.

So how do I use this?

If you're having trouble thinking of why this system might be fun to implement, here's a few ideas:

It makes groupfights more dangerous, encouraging tactical thinking. Getting advantage reliably is the deciding factor in most d&d combats, with the tide turning in favour of whichever side has the most bodies. If combatants are shifting around with every missed hit then that advantage is more up for grabs

It puts increased focus on hazards and terrain features. Ledges, pits, pillars, walls, furniture, dungeon-clutter. Make no mistake that if you use this system and then design your combat arenas with some kind of terrain feature, it's GOING to be used. Where previously players and enemies alike had to chose between engaging with the arena for a potential benefit or doing raw damage reliably, here they'll be able to do both.

It gives non burst-damage melee characters a new way to play. Rolling a barbarian or fighter is supposed to come with a scene of empowerment which can be undercut one folks realize their super-strong orc berserker is being outclassed for damage by the shifty guy with the knife. Telling that player "Yeah, that person gets to roll more dice, but you get to bounce badguys off the walls like pinballs" is more than a consolation, it's what they signed up to do in the first place.

It adds drama to the fight. There's only so many ways a dm can describe enemies taking non-lethal sword hits that only take up a portion of their hp, and they're liable to run out of those long before the campaign is through. Part of what sells the importance of those hits and keeps players engaged between the first and the last is the feeling that they've had SOME kind of effect. Moving folks around is a middle ground between doing nothing and dropping a foe, changing the battlefield in a myriad of small ways that can build up to something meaningful.

Art

[fabraies-archive]

LESS THAN ZERO

notes n warnings ❅ *: snowboarder! reader x coach! Iwaizumi, all fluff and cute winter wonderland theme, a little angst, heavily inspired by Taylor swift’s folklore album, bad pacing as always, areblogs are always appreciated, and I hope you all have a great ski season! wc 4.2 k

part 2 of snowflakes are kisses from heaven

DAY 1

You hated this voice. Echoing all over the ski slope, everyone could hear it loud and clear: you had not managed to keep up with the public’s expectations. The distorted voice continues calling out the podium winners, eventually taking a break to build the suspense when he gets to the gold medalist. The gold medalist that should’ve been you.

“First place! Chloe Kim of the United States of America!”

You look down to your feet as the Chinese translator takes over, and play with you bronze medal. You’re not mad at her. You’re mad at yourself. 'If onlys’ quickly fill up the entire functioning parts of your brain. If only you had worked harder. If only you had listened to your coach about this and that. If only you had worked longer. If only you hadn’t brushed off the criticism online. If only.

Looking back at the past months, disappointment takes over. You’re about to enter a self-deprecating inner rant when a someone grabs your hand, and you almost feel bad for wishing it would be somebody else.

“Are you thinking of getting off that podium anytime soon? Or maybe you’d rather sleep there.” A deep voice chuckles. You don’t find it funny.

“Iwaizumi.” You nod, acknowledging his presence. You don’t want anything to do with him at the moment. You two had built some sort of a friendship throughout the games, playful banter making up most of your conversations, but right now, you don’t feel like it. Especially since he’s Chloe Kim’s coach.

“Who pissed in your cereal?” He jokes, again, and this time, you don’t bother answering. You don’t have to, because he gets it. You wish he didn’t. Iwaizumi puts his hands on your shoulders, and continues, “Come on! Don’t act like third place is bad! These were your first games, you’ll have plenty of time to get first place at any other time.” He tries to make you see the bright side of things, knock some sense into you. It doesn’t work, as you just decide to shrug his hands off instead.

You can’t stand the act you’re putting up in front of him anymore. You take off your helmet, step down from the podium, and there it is. The disappointment comes by again, because if only the step was a little bit bigger. Maybe you would’ve been more satisfied then.

“Of course you’d say that.” You scoff lightly, “Your trainee just won. For whom, by the way, I’m very happy. Really, I am. But you didn’t have time after your first Olympics, and that’s why you’re on the sidelines right now. There’s a fifty fifty chance I might end up like you before the next Olympics. So excuse me, but no.” You turn on your heel shortly after that, not expecting the conversation to go any further.

“I get it.” He calls out to you.

For a while, you don’t say anything. The cold mountain breeze blows softly, the snowflakes silently settle on your hair. You realize you forgot to put on lipbalm this morning, and carefully reach up to your lips. The bumps you feel with your fingers confirm that they’re chapped: even more so with the cold. 

Hajime catches his breath before starting again. “I get it. You’re an athlete, our careers end early. We don’t have much time and that’s how it is. It’s unfair. And that, is exactly why you can’t let this get to you. You don’t have time to bitch and moan.” He couln’t help adding a personal aside; “Besides, you know, for somebody who’s never been at Olympics before, you actually did great; I don’t mean to discredit Chloe but, she’s been there before. You haven’t.” 

“I guess” You mumble quietly. You don’t dare look at him. His gaze is unsettling, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

“Bye, now.” Your attempt at indifference is laughable. Your voice is weak and lacks authority, your words sucked into an empty void as you wave your hand dismissively. You begin your walk up to the Olympic village, and his voice makes way to your eardrums once again. 

“Meet me at this exact slope tomorrow, at midday. I want to tell you something.”

DAY 2

Your indexes press both your temples, your elbows lying on your bathroom counter. You look at the time, then back at the mirror, only to find it reflecting an image that doesn’t satisfy you; at all. Concealer, foundation, setting powder, color correcters- you had tried everything, if not more, to get rid of the awful panda eyes you woke up with, but nothing worked. 

At this rate, you were surely going to be off the rocker by midday -which happened to be the time at which you were supposed to meet Iwaizumi. You take one last glance at your watch for good measure, only to find out you had a measly quarter of an hour before you’d have to leave. You have 10 left when you realize you’re a desperate case. 

Who were you trying so hard for, anyway? You stop dead in your tracks. Who were you trying so hard for? Iwaizumi? Surely not. You feel your cheeks and the tip of your ears get hot at the thought. Inhale, hold, exhale. And again. You repeat this action a few times, in hopes to cool down, clear your head, but it’s not easy. The fact that you’re running late for the meet-up is not helping, either. You’re considering taking a rain-check on it, because you just realized you’re probably in love with someone else’s coach. 

“Probably”, smoke forms itself in the cold air after  the words escape your lips. “Probably.” you repeat, in an attempt to reassure yourself.

The next time you catch yourself thinking of your impromptu ‘crush’, you’re going up a mountain, the subject of your thoughts staring right back at you. 

“A penny for your thoughts?”

The question almost makes you snicker. Iwaizumi had coined this expression after hearing it on an American sitcom you two had watched not too long ago, and your heart aches at the memory. You had no doubt that if he even had an inkling of what was going on inside your head, Hajime would’ve been out of your sight before you’d even be sure of your feelings. You suppose it won’t make much of a difference, considering you’re to leave in a day from now.

“I wouldn’t even sell them for a million, forget it.” You narrow your eyes at him.

At this, the bulky man raises a brow. “So you do have something to hide ?”

“Drop it.” You warn again.

You can see his mouth slightly parting, ready to shoot you another remark, attempting to find out what exactly is clouding your mind, when the lift doors open, and one of the cable car drivers usher you out of the cabin with a disapproving look.

You elbow Iwaizumi in the ribs, asking him what exactly went through his mind for your presence to get such a reaction out of the driver.

He doesn’t answer, and instead grabs your gloved hand to drag you through the woods until you reach a tiny ski shed. It’s slightly old, and the wood is close to giving out, the color slowly fading from a nice brown to a dull grey.

The inside is a nice contrast to the cold outside, and you don’t wait a second to come in and find a tiny loveseat while draping a duvet on yourself. 

“By all means, make yourself at home.” Hajime says. At this, you stop moving, suddenly realising how impolite you were being. You raise your head, only to be met with a handsome grin. “I’m kidding” he finishes. 

You reply with another smile, turning your head to the tiny scratched square window on the right. The sky is oddly bright, the clouds acting as a screen, reflecting the light. It’s truly a beautiful sight to behold, the snowflakes fluttering down to land softly on the rim of the window. Over time, the snow clumps together to form a thick blanket over the frozen grass. The snowfall is so harsh it only takes a few minutes for the layer to thicken until it’s already reaching 15 centimeters. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Iwaizumi whispers. 

“It is.” You answer. 

There’s no need for any of you to fill the empty void of silence after that. You fall into a comfortable atmosphere, and it feels like a dream neither of you want to wake up from. You can feel Iwaizumi’s soft stare, and few seconds later, you feel your loveseat dip, and a head fall on your shoulder. you tilt your head, questioning his behaviour, but the slow breathing indicates he’s already fallen asleep. 

“Maybe I do like you.” You whisper to yourself, your eyes running over his features. It’s a risky move, but as far as you’re concerned, he’s supposedly asleep. Your heart swells as you notice the droplets of snow on his eyebrows and eyelashes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anybody this beautiful before. His delicate lips are the last thing you see before you fall asleep yourself. 

You wake up, and it’s noon. By then, you’re sure you’ve fallen in love with Iwaizumi Hajime. 

“Hey sleepyhead. Look, I’ve talked to the cable cars staff and the last lift is in 15 minutes so, we should get going.” A tall man opens the door and speaks up. You don’t have to open your eyes to know it’s the man that’s been occupying your thoughts for the past day. 

You relunctantly get up from your comfortable seat, and put on your jacket, and head out to the cable car station. On the way, you can’t help but ask a question that you’ve been keeping to yourself ever since earlier this afternoon. 

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” You start, fiddling with you fingers. It hadn’t been your goal to pressure him into telling you, but your curiousity took the best of you. 

“Won’t tell you until you tell me what was up with you on the way up here.” He crosses his arms on his chest, determined to know what was up with you. 

You raise a brow, clearly unimpressed with the chantage attempt. “I’m not telling you.” You stay firm and focused. You would rather die than have anybody know about your crush about your opponents’ coach, let alone the man himself.

“I guess I won’t tell you what I wanted to tell you, then.” He says nonchalantly, playing with your nerves. You don’t give in to his game, and shrug, “fine by me.”

It was not fine by you.

DAY 3

“Are you sure we’re even allowed to do this?” You shout over the wind, snowboard in hand.

“We used the lift last time and the guy said it was fine. I asked him about it again this morning and he said it was also fine. Don’t stress.” Iwaizumi answers, adjusting his ski glassware.

You huff. “I’m not stressing. I just think it’s very irresponsible, ‘s all.” Your maternal instincts take over as your hands settle on your hips, as if you were scolding a child. “And, your injury. I don’t want to be blacklisted by your twitter stans, they are terrifying.”

He doesn’t do anything but laugh, until he speaks up again. “Thought you were actually worried about me for a second.”

“You wish” A grin takes over your face, which is quickly mirrored by your interlocutor; “A man can dream” the black haired man sighs, looking up. It doesn’t take too long for him to wake up from his daydreaming, as he shuns you forward, and indicates for you to get your snowboarding gear on.

You consider questioning his words from a few seconds ago, but quickly decide against it, and wordlessly comply and count the seconds until your partner was done as well. The view in front of you is breathtaking. Far off, you can already see the steep sides of the mountains and their sloping sides and rounded ridges. They’re not snowboarding friendly, you know that, but their beauty is so captivating, as if they’re beckoning you forward, begging you to come their crooked tracks. 

The slopes are untouched, yet to be used, and a fresh even layer of snow broods the land. In moments like these, you remember why you’ve been doing this for so long, why despite the losses, you’re still out there, competing. 

“Come on! We don’t have time to loose!” Iwaizumi’s voice fills the short-lived silence, and you start worrying. 

“You said the cable car driver was fine with it! Why would there be time to loose?” You reply, fastening your helmet. 

“I said the cable car driver was fine with it, not the security!” 

You let out a frustrated grunt, unheard by Hajime, who’s already on his way down the slope. In this moment, you can’t find yourself to be mad at him. Not when he looks so happy, so carefree. He’d always looked slightly off ever since you met him, as if he was he was missing something, a particular little thing. So little, but so important. It now hits you that the particular little thing has to be snowboarding.

Iwaizumi is halfway down already, and you get ready to try and overtake him. A few tiny jumps, and you smoothly start gliding on the snow. You’ve always loved it. The speed, the adrenaline, the risk. By now you’ve amassed an incredible amount of said speed; you’ve always been used to things going by pretty fast, but even by your own standards, your eyes start to widen: maybe you’re going a little too fast after all. 

You know you have when you suddenly collapse in what you thought was a tree, and land face down in the snow. The wind is knocked out of your lungs when you realize you can still feel the tree. Have I hit it so hard I uprooted the tree?? You start panicking. You were already in trouble for going down this slope when you weren’t supposed to -which your coach would definitely kill you for- and now you were supposed to deal with an uprooted tree? How unlucky could you even get? 

A slight groan from the supposed tree gives you an answer: incredibly unlucky. 

“Could’ve been a little nicer,” he laughs a little, and you wonder how he still has the energy to do this despite being hit by bulldozer; you. “I’m not as young as you.” 

“This,” You take some time to recover from your irregular breathing rhythm, “This is all you have to say?” 

“You’d rather have me yell at you or something?” He quirks an eyebrow, “Besides, I’m not too mad about how this whole thing ended up.” At this, you feel his hands go up to your waist, and only then do you realise the compromising position you two were in. 

“Shut up.” You seethe, getting off of him and attempting to hide the flustured expression your face is bearing. 

The task proves itself to be harder than you initially thought, as both of your snowboards get slightly intwined. 

“Let me- Hold on, just-” His slightly out-of-breath tone is making your heart beat at a pace that you are sure was probably much faster than the speed at which you hit Iwaizumi. Your faces are so close to each other, you might pass out. He looks slightly shaken as well, because he holds on to you. Puts his arm around you, draws you close, and waits. You both close your eyes, and for a moment, nothing happens. 

The only things to be heard are the ruffling of the trees and the wind’s whistles. You wish you could stay like this forever. You can’t even bring yourself to think about the fact that this isn’t how it should be. This isn’t right. But if it isn’t, why does it feel so normal? 

Your helmet makes a noise, and you realize it’s due to both of your helmets blocking each other from getting any closer. Talk about a cockblock.

“The thing I wanted to talk to you about. You know, yesterday, on the lift?” You start. Your hands feel moist from the nervosity wrecking your brain, but this time is right. You’re obviously not the only that has enjoyed this ‘encounter’, and you had drawn two conclusions out of this fact: number one: you probably do have a shot with him after all, and number two: you should probably shoot it soon. Soon as in, right now.

“Oh. Right. Yeah, I have to say something, too. But, you-, you can start.” The position that has him laying on his back adds a slight edge to his voice, and you’re not sure if you feel incredibly attracted by it, or if it’s a sign you shouldn’t confess after all.

“Well. There’s no easy way to say this, and feel free to stop me any time because honestly, if you get weirded out, I won’t even get mad, like, this so out of the blue and totally weird so really just-“

A mechanical click is heard from the woods, behind one of the trees, causing both of your heads to whip to the tree’s direction. A black shadow, and suddenly, nothing. That’s what you see. However, it’s enough for you both to understand: it was a paparazzi.

The cozy and comfortable atmosphere you two had created had now vanished an record time: you two were soon enough messily getting off each other, running back to both of your respective hotels. This was not good. It couldn’t be.

DAY 4

The one time you desperately wanted to be wrong, you weren’t. Your coach woke you up at a whooping five am, with 46 messages et 6 missed calls. Out of the impressive amount of messages you could make out a link to an article; Oh, this definitely was not good.

Your first reaction is a scoff. Star Crossed Lovers? How cheesy could these boulevard journals actually get? Your second is to pick up your coaches incoming call.

“Mind to explain? In what world does somebody get so reckless? With Iwaizumi, no less? Look, I know you’re upset about that bronze medal, but this was not the way to bring the attention back to you. God, how could you just-, what were you thinking?” The rest of his rant you don’t hear, drowning out his voice. All you can think of is Iwaizumi.

You just ruined his career. He had to retire from competitive snowboarding, and now, because of you, he’s going to have to let go of coaching, too. All because of you.

“I-I’m sorry, coach. Really. I know this is bad timing, but I really have to go.” You let out, bracing yourself for yet another storm of anger.

“You have to go? You cannot be-“ you hang up shortly after, having had enough of his grating mechanical voice.

You skip the bathroom; you don’t have time for casualties, you need to get to Iwaizumi as soon as possible. All throughout getting ready, you think about the fact that you would not have to get hastily ready if you had Iwaizumi’s phone number.

You take your jacket off the hook, grab your room’s key, and head out. You try your best to avoid the overwhelming stares. Some flash a sympathetic grin, and others opt for a glare of disdain, such as the woman sitting by the reception of the resort, seemingly waiting for someone else to arrive.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. You couldn’t stand for our Chloe to have the spotlight for a second, could you? You couldn’t steal her medal, so you stole her coach, didn’t you? You poor girl.” The woman comes up to you. The tone of her voice is unforgiving and unyielding. Soon enough, you notice the American flag embroidered on the sleeves of her jacket. She’s part of the American delegation, that’s why she’s blowing a fuse and having a go at you in public.

“Do we have a problem here, ladies?” An amiable voice from the back echoes in the reception.

All of a sudden, the woman, who, just a second ago was standing tall facing you, surrenders, muttering out a ‘no’ and soon leaves.

You turn around and, sure enough, it’s the man you’ve been trying to bump into. He takes your hand and, had you not been in your current situation, you would have felt the butterflies swarming in your belly.

“Come on up, we’ll go to my room, I’m sure they won’t give us any trouble there.” He proposes with a stunning smile, seemingly unaffected by the recent events. You stay in place, unable to move or speak.

“Assuming you’re here to talk to me, I mean. In light of recent events.”

You nod.

It doesn’t take too long until you both reach his suite, and only then does the long-awaited conversation start taking place. “I know about the article, by the way. You didn’t need to come up all the way here and deal with them. Appreciate it, nonetheless.” Iwaizumi reassures you.

“That’s.. great. Awesome. Could’ve avoided all that if I had your phone number, though.” You hold the sleeve of your left arm, unsure where that confidence came from.

“Is that your way of asking for my number?” He chuckles, “You could’ve just used social media.”

“Is that your way of rejecting me?” You comically imitate his last question, “And, not a fan. Besides, your accounts are all set in private.”

“So you did check.”

“You wouldn’t have accepted me either way.”

“What makes you say that?” Hajime tilts his head to the side. “After all the lifts I had to negotiate for you, and you think I wouldn’t have accepted you?”

You shrug. Now is not the time to give in to your delusional tendencies. “Isn’t this what friends do?” You ask, and when you turn your head around to face the brunette, you immediately regret it.

He looks dejected at the conclusion you’ve drawn from the past few days.

“What nice friends you have, then.” He doesn’t waste a second, and gets up from the bed. Clearly, you weren’t the only one that had suffered from an emotional turmoil this week. Your heart jumps at the realisation that Iwaizumi most probably likes you back, and also that the current situation you’ve found yourself in.

“No, I just- That’s not what I meant-“ you reach out to him, in vain.

“I get it. I’m not a child. We don’t feel same way about each other, and that’s fine. I can deal with it, I’ve been there before. Go back to your resort.”

“That’s not-“ you protest, but with a single hand movement, he silences you again.

“Go pack. You leave tomorrow.” The tone is unusual. It’s cold, hard, unwelcoming. It’s an order.

You’d be a fool to walk out of this door. Don’t walk out on him, the little voice in your head says.

“I like you back. I’ve always liked you.” You whisper. And with that, you walk out. Hajime doesn’t try to call you back.

DAY 5

You had never felt so homesick. Not even browsing the airport shops can help you feel better. Every tuft of black hair reminds you of him. You can’t shake him off, and feel like going crazy. The rest of your delegation won’t talk to you, presumably under the pressure of your coach, who was still incredibly mad at you.

The only one who hadn’t succumbed to peer pressure yet was a pretty and quiet girl by the name of Kiyoko. She mostly only listened and hummed as a sign that she was really listening, but that was more than enough for you.

“I just feel like shit for not having done more. I don’t know why I walked out on him. But like, at the same time, why wouldn’t he chase after me you know? If he really likes me. But maybe, maybe I was just being delusional the entire time and turns out he never liked me at all and I literally got it all wrong!” You gasp at that, “Oh my god. I would die if that was the case.”

You turn to kiyoko in panic, and hold her shoulders. “Do you think that was the case?”

In classic kiyoko fashion, she only blinks, and lets out a small ‘no’.

“I mean, even if that was the case, it’s not like I care. Like, Spencer Reid is hotter anyway.” You bite your fingernails, “or is he? Kiyoko, who’s hotter, Iwaizumi or Spencer Reid?”

“I don’t know who Spencer Rei-“

“I’d say Iwaizumi.”

It’s him. The only back tuft or hair you had been looking for in the swarm of people in the airport. You don’t have time to answer, because he takes your hand, and pulls you closer by the waist.

“I’m not sure..” you hum, “I think Spencer Reid might be a little more-“

Your words are drowned out by the sound of Iwaizumi’s lips smashing into yours. You relax into the kiss, and put your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as humanly possible. The scent of his cologne is addictive, and you would’ve stayed like this for centuries if it weren’t for the crowd.

“I’m sorry I didn’t chase after you like I was in a Hollywood movie. I thought you might want space.”

“You’re not forgiven.” You smile, and the grin he wears in response is making your heart jump out of your thorax.

Who knows if he never showed up what could’ve been?

©234423zip ALL RIGHTS RESERVED do not copy modify or translate my work/theme

A/n: I swear I really am on a semi-hiatus. This was just like 3/4 finished so I just wanted it to be done and posted

[serial-experiments-rain]

Cold Circuit Chapter 2 Chase Sequence

I don't usually write chase sequences, but I love playing them in video games, so I devised my own!

Silverhands (fun way to refer to the two of y'all who expressed interest in being tagged):

@foyle-writes-things @thatqueerweirdo

let me know if you wish to be added or removed

Caldwellers are… something.

There’s a joke within the First District that Caldwellers are just the natural evolution of New Yorkers, back when Vesspucci was neither a sprawling metropolis or a City-State.

The United States of America, it was called.

The name of a bygone era, a relic that corroded from the inside out.

Rox once scoffed at the notion of a ‘united’ states.

They mixed about as well as water and cooking oil, Rox would say.

“You ever think about how old Rox is?” I ask the mercenary.

“He’s almost an ‘undred, what point are you tryin’ to make?”

“Why doesn’t he talk about his early days, the early 2000s. You know, before the Second Civil War?”

“It’s illegal, ‘member?” The merc adds, her tone becoming short. “More likely than not, he’s encrypted those memories.”

“Up until 2034. But records show that there were two elections before then, 2028 and 2032.”

“Three.”

“What?”

“There were three elections, Sibyl. The 2024 election was scrubbed from the archives, but I think that’s where the Second Civil War started to brew.”

“And you know this…how?”

The mercenary remains silent, her jaw tight.

“Tell you later.”

That had always confused me about the mercenary, how she’s always corrects the Official Histories with an unmatched certainty if, according to her own records, she’s supposed to be twenty-five years old.

I don’t say anything, though.

This is not a conversation for now.

I stand up, resting my hand on the back of the chair.

“Are we going?”

The mercenary raises an arm.

“Hold,” she whispers. Her eyes dart to the left, and I follow her gaze.

There’s a Lockie on our tail. A woman, form the looks of it. Silver hair, white eyes.

White eyes.

Whoever she was looking for, she’d found them already.

“Your fuckin’ eye,” the mercenary curses, “how did they get past the firewall? ”

“Care to explain?”

“Later, Sibyl.” the mercenary says, standing up. “There’s a motorcycle not too far from here. I’ll need you to override its security measures.”

“You’re shit out of luck, Cell still has my arm.”

I pocket the keycard and grab the mercenary’s hand.

“For now, we need to leave.”

The Lockie is standing behind one of the Caldwell food carts, her irises crackling with an electric blue hue.

“Scrambled our signal, can you handle yourself, Sibyl?”

A check-in, a code, a warning that have to overexert myself.

“For a few minutes, at least.” I answer

“A few minutes is all I need.”

The mercenary bolts down the street, and I follow suite, weaving past Caldwellers and tourists, leaping over carts and strafing around cars. 

At one point, I roll under a curtain and traverse a laundromat, leaping onto a washer and springing forward. My right hand just barely grasps the second story railing, and I try to use my stabilize myself with my feet, eventually finding my footing on the tilewood of the second floor.

I swing myself under the railing and catch my breath. Any further, and I’ll…

Electricity shoots through the wires in my eye, and I wince, shutting my eyes to block out the light.

I can’t stop. I’m going to lose the merc.

I open my eyes and stand up, peering over the railing to find that the Lockie has just entered the laundromat.

I’m in no state to engage in combat, with my hacked eye and missing arm. For now, I need to get the fuck out.

I sprint to the other side of the second floor, towards an open window, and that’s where I begin to feel my chest tighten.

I’ll push through it.

I can’t slow down now.

I peer out the window and search for the mercenary’s signal, a modified radiowave from her own subdermal cybernetic implants, and find her crossing South Deckard street, just past Rick’s Bowling Alley, heading to one of the quieter neighborhoods.

There has to be a way for me to reach her before then.

I glance around me, ignoring the pain in my chest.

There are clothes in the closet a few feet away from me, a few unused hangers…

And a powerline.

This wouldn’t be my stupidest idea yet.

The Lockie’s footsteps echo against the rickety stairs.

Shit.

I grab a hanger and hook it onto the powerline, my arm still sore from pulling myself up and over the railing. I leap out the window, ziplining to the mercenary’s approximate destination.

About a third of the way there, the hanger snaps, and I tumble into the (notably Synthetik) bushes in front of someone’s house.

There is about thirty seconds of silence before the mercenary’s voice crackles to life on my RATZ

“You good?” 

“You…think?” I gasp, climbing out of the bushes.

Pain hammers at my chest, constricting my breathing.

I need to lay down.

“Found your location, I’ll be over in less than ten seconds.”

I sit up, waiting a few second until I can hear the mercenary’s footsteps.

Once I do, I get up, masking my pain so that the merc doesn’t fret over me.

“We need to keep moving.” She states upon arrival.

Shit.

But she’s right. It won’t be long before our persuer latches onto our tail again.

“Lead…the way.”

I struggle to keep the exhaustion out of my voice, but it doesn’t seem like the mercenary noticed.

We round a corner and enter the back alley sprinting, and we emerge on the other side a few blocks away from the Gibson line, the metro system that connects Caldwell to the remaining districts in Vespucci.

“The… the train,” I suggest

“Too dangerous. VCPD on every line.” The mercenary counters

And Mama Zoraya’s is out of the question. 

“Wrusty?”

“She’s in hiding. We’d break our own promise if we looked for her now.”

“Fuck…this,” I mutter, grabbing the mercenary’s wrist and pulling her into a sea of tourists.

I scan my surroundings my cybernetic eye greedily inhaling gigabytes of unfiltered data. Places, people, tourist traps.

Nothing we can use to our advantage.

Along with that…they hacked my eye.

That fucking Lockie would see everything I see.

“Need…a place…to debug. Run diagnostics…wipe software.” I gasp, keeping my gaze to the cracked pavement.

 “Findin’ someone to do that’d cost a fortune,”the Mercenary adds, her voice a low whisper

“Rox, Rox’ll do.”

“Swore not to tamper with cybernetics ever since the—”

“We don’t have any other choice, and that fucking Lockie…”

I lock onto a backwater signal, one where the corporate firewalls don’t often check.

“Backwater signal… found. Send Rox…  a Lewis… we’ll be…there… in fifteen.”

The mercenary offers a nod and glances behind her.

“The Lockie sniffed us out,” the mercenary warns, “you decide what we’re doing.”

“Too crowded. Need to… settle this… elsewhere.”

“Right. Know just the place. Follow my signal.”

The mercenary takes off once more, disappearing into the crowd. I claw my way out of the congested foot traffic and scan my surroundings, finding some sort of vantage point to access.

Behind a digital billboard that advertises the military’s enlistment bonuses is a metal stairwell next to an old apartment complex forgotten by the masses and preserved in its simplicity.

That’ll do.

My hand clutches my chest, the tightening making it hard for me to focus.

I’ve pushed too far.

I need to lay down.

I clench my jaw and make my way to the stairwell.

Vantage point, I need a vantage point. I need to lock onto the Mercenary’s signal.

And what of the Lockie?

I gather every last bit of strength and make a break for the stairwell, clasping the railing and forcing myself to breathe.

My chest feels like it’s caved in on itself, constricting air as a boa constricts its prey.

Prey.

A person unlucky enough to be crushed by the invisible hand would spend their life dancing in its palm.

Fuck.

I don’t have time for this.

My grip on the railing loosens, and I climb the stairs.

The Lockie, she’d know where I am.

She’d know that I’ll find and trace the mercenary’s signal, she knows what plan we have, and maybe where we’re going. Why, then, is she still after me?

[childofaura]

My Big Ol’ Comprehensive Review of Fire Emblem Engage

So,

I finally beat Fire Emblem Engage. Through my gameplay, I was making a LOT of negative posts just due to being in the midst of struggling with the game. But in all honesty, those posts were not true expressions of my overall opinions on the game. And that’s what this post is here for.

So I’ll be giving my overall, in-depth opinion on Engage, though I will condense it into this: It’s a decent game. But it’s not a good Fire Emblem game. Let’s break it down:

-Story

The story has a relatively solid premise, but the execution was not optimal. They borrowed a LOT of story elements from previous games: The future battle at the beginning of the game (Which didn’t even come back into play, what the hell was the point of that battle with Sombron???), the element of important artifacts being held by different kingdoms like in Sacred Stones, the Fell Dragon title and the “Corrupted” being lifted from Awakening, Veyle being your little sister in a parallel to Lilith, Lumera’s reunion and death playing out like Mikoto’s in Fates, King Hyacinth, Ivy, and Hortensia strongly resembling King Garon and the Nohr children, etc etc etc.

ANYWAYS, long story short is that these story elements and plot pieces felt VERY Frankenstein’d together. But that’s not to say there weren’t good bits. Veyle’s entire arc was very satisfying (again, this baby is getting her own post because her character is that great), Lumera coming back as a Corrupted actually offered a really twisted but perfect multi-faceted side to her character we wouldn’t otherwise see (The horrible, selfish thoughts in her head), the Hounds were a unique idea, Alear actually being a Fell Dragon was a super awesome idea that they didn’t quite execute right...

But then also there was one really huge writing flaw I noticed, and that was how incredibly last-minute a lot of character traits and story beats seemed to be. Sombron’s real intentions weren’t revealed until the final battle, and you don’t even get to see the Emblem of Foundations. It felt incredibly rushed and had it been worked into the plot a little bit better, it could have made him stand out a lot more rather than just being “obviously evil dragon”. Like yes, I ended up feeling some little pity for him but it wasn’t proper nor satisfying. And then Griss, Marni, and Zephia’s backstories being revealed RIGHT before they died was cheap. I LIKED Marni’s backstory, I LIKED Zephia’s goals and ambitions for a true family, and I LIKED that Griss’ masochism came from a certain sense of self-loathing. But this all came out at the scenes before they die. Don’t do that, IS.

So overall, the story was definitely a disappointment coming off the heels of the Fodlan franchise. Had some interesting ideas, but failed to properly utilize them.

-Gameplay

I mentioned this billions of times in my despairing posts, but I need to put it into better words:

The devs did an awful, shitty job with these new Maddening Mode choices, and they fail to warn you about it. Nowhere when I started Maddening Mode did I see any kind of disclaimers that Skirmishes were severely limited. This created an entire snowball effect that essentially made my playthrough a living nightmare: So I made the mistake early on of donating funds to Firene and Brodia thinking I’d be able to spawn Skirmishes, get gold for purchasing items and weapons, and level up my team so I’d be prepared for the chapters. But none of them did; I was forced to continue on with severely unprepared units, and dropping them in favor of stronger units being recruited. This also forced me to promote most of my main-players early on, despite the fact that I knew they weren’t getting their max stat-capacity. Which then lead to even further struggles down the line where my units weren’t functioning at their best against maxed-out enemies, and I didn’t have enough gold to do weapon refines or even buy them better weapons.

This has NEVER been an issue with other Maddening Modes in the Fire Emblem series. They made all of these drastic choices without giving you fair warning and it heavily impacted my ability to enjoy the game.

Other minor gameplay issues includes the loss of 2D portraits in favor of 3D ones, which causes the framerate to tank a couple of times (And 2D portraits are just better anyways), paralogues being shoved into Emblem-based battles which are SUPER boring story-wise, and the title screen loadings; they show that stupid portrait at the beginning of the game EVERY TIME after there’s a bit of loading, then there’s more loading, then they FORCE the fucking intro cutscene before you can finally get to the title screen. Why not do it after some idle time has passed like you do for most of your games??? Though I will say that Engage Rings are pretty cool to use. Not super awesome, but they’re cool. Final thing I want to note that I wouldn’t say is necessarily a negative, but the enemy AI now no longer physically attacking you even if you’re in range was a painful and annoying new gameplay aspect to learn. Valid tactic to keep you on your toes? Yes. Highly unpredictable and ANNOYING as SHIT when you need to clear out enemies? Yes.

-Music

I really REALLY hate to say this, but the music in this game is disappointing compared to previous games. There are some bangers, though: Solm’s battle music is super fun, Firene’s is... okay. I don’t think I even remembered Elusia and Brodia’s music, sadly. But the Corrupted theme really sucks, they try to play around with some kind of chip-tune but it doesn’t work; there aren’t enough creepy shrill tones that really give you the sense of something horribly unnatural.

Something similar to this would have been the best for the Corrupted:

Chapter 11′s song felt too much like “Don’t Speak Her Name”, but it did set the mood for that chapter perfectly... or it would have if I wasn’t on the near verge of tears trying to beat that damn level.

Corrupted Lumera’s battle theme COULD have been amazing, and has promise, but they really failed to lean into the orchestral aspect of it, which is what I think it needed. Using her motif in that creepy way was perfect, but the “instruments” sounded too generic. We need something more “A Funeral of Flowers”-esque where you really get the feeling of a tragedy unfolding.

And the final battle theme, man... So disappointing. Not sure if it’s just me, but the music didn’t even change during battle phases, or if it did, it wasn’t distinct enough. It SOUNDS well composed, but they just needed to add more. It was no “Funeral of Flowers”, no “God Shattering Star”, and most certainly ABSOLUTELY not even close to the glory of “Twilight of the Gods”.

-Characters

They were... fine. I have to say that this cast doesn’t feel as overall strong as previous games. Setting aside 3Houses because they’re all students (and therefore more inter-connected without any of the “recruitable events”), I feel like the past games I’ve played have had stronger characters. Awakening gave us a lot of neat characters, especially with Spotpass. Fates gave us a HUGE variety of characters on both sides. And Echoes actually intertwined their recruitable characters with the story. Like I mentioned before, a lot of these characters get recruited too late at weird times and you really don’t get a good feeling for their personalities (Like Saphir or Lindon). Or some have decent personalities but they’re not utilized enough, like the Firenese nobles or Ivy. Most of the main nobles pale in comparison to their younger siblings. And there’s also not a lot of variety in character visuals; I actually found out recently that Amagaitaro was in charge of the character designs (or something to that effect), which... sadly makes a LOT of sense as to why there’s just so many baby-faced characters, or why everyone seems to lack any distinct features. I will say though that, again, the Hounds are interesting and I’m glad to see bosses who are important to the story.

But Zelkov and Veyle are perfect and you can’t change my mind.

-Cast

Can’t really say much about this one, I’ll make a separate post once I’ve listened to the English cast, but I will say the Japanese cast is perfect and I’m glad they gave us the option to switch languages.

And the final thing I’ll add is this: Again, the game suffered pretty heavily from censorship decisions that made no sense. Alear’s supposedly 17 years old in game data, but the localizers didn’t want to let you support characters within that age range under 18, because I assume they realized most of the player-base is over 18. But then characters like Diamant, Zelkov, Mauvier, etc, who are over 18 have very pathetic and underwhelming confessions that lack any kind of romantic tones to them. So once again, the localization team did a horrible job.

Overall, if I had to rank Engage, I’d say it’s a 6/10. I had some fun playing it, but at the end of the day it was NOT a fun game to play. And I truly hope the next game will be a bit more planned-out.

[talesofstyles]

Reconcile II

Ok so I know that I wrote the first part with reader insert, but after many, many attempts to keep it that way, it just didn’t work with this one. So I’d like for you to meet Emma. This is my first time writing with OC and wow game changer. I love her and I hope you do too!

Also, I honestly can’t thank my beta queens enough @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h 🥺💛 thanks for allll the comments and suggestions and nice words!!! ily both xx

Read part I here

Harry

“So… are we okay now?”

We’re sitting here on the sofa, finally having that very much needed father-daughter date. Granted, a movie night in was not what I had in mind. I wasn’t too thrilled when she said she wanted to just go back home after we dropped George at his classmate’s house for a birthday sleepover. I thought she would hole up in her room instead and ignore me. But she didn’t. I got us pizza for tea, and we’ve got Shrek 2 on the telly. Her animosity towards me disappeared just like that after she asked for a puppy the other day. Of course, I’m glad to have my happy-go-lucky daughter back, but deep down I know that we need to have a proper chat. The change in her behaviour is so abrupt that I know there’s a chance that my daughter is still bitter with me deep down. And that won’t do. I can take a lot of things, but my daughter’s resentment is not one of them.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” she nods as she takes a bite of her pizza. “You’re still getting me a puppy right?”

“I still need to talk to your mum about it, poppet,” I tell her. “Puppies need a lot of attention. It’s going to be hard work and that puppy is going to be a permanent member of our family. We’ve really got to think about it before we decide.”

I expect a little excitement knowing that her mum and I are really considering getting a puppy. But what I get is quite the opposite. My little girl’s gaze drops, her face slackening. Her voice cracks a little when she mumbles, “except… we’re not a family.”

I wince, realising how serious the effect our split has on my daughter. Despite Emma and I putting on a friendly, united front for our children, Minnie is still sad that her parents are not together. 

“Of course we’re still a family,” I assure her, pulling her to me for a comforting side hug. “I’m still your dad, mummy is still your mum, and you and George are still the lights of our lives.” 

“But you and mummy aren’t together anymore,” she points out bitterly. “And you live so far away from us now. I miss having you at home.”

“I know, my love,” I murmur gently, and turn sideways so she can see my face. “It’s killing me too. But you never know what the future holds, right?”

“I guess,” she says glumly.

I wish I can tell her that I’m trying to win her mum back so we can be together again, but I know I can’t do that. This is far too early. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case I’m not successful in convincing my wife to give me another shot. That’ll only break her heart all over again.

Thinking back, I realised that this is the first time we have a proper chat about our split. I fled to LA the next morning after my wife asked me to leave our marital home back in London, leaving her to sit down with our children to tell them that I was not going to live there anymore. I was shocked and angry because I had no idea what I’d done. I thought we were fine. There were no fights leading up to that. I still remember exactly what I told her. ‘You’re the one who wanted to end it, you tell them.’ And then I left.

Just like that. Without a fight.

I swear to God, it’s something that I would never be able to forgive myself. 

“How’s your mum?” 

“She’s sad,” Minnie sighs. “She cries a lot. She thinks we can’t hear her in the shower, but we can.”

Knowing I caused that physically hurts. I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone and I think about all those private tears I shed through it. The ones you hope are hidden and silent.

“Can I ask you something, daddy?”

“Anything, poppet.”

“Do you still get sad too?”

I’m not sure how much to divulge here. Does my daughter need to hear that I stopped eating? That I once cried in the loo at Cafe Habana, and once had to be fished out of a bath by Jeff after I turned into a human prune? I was sad. I still wear that hat. 

“I do. It’s the end of something, that’s always sad.”

“I think mum is dating someone,” she says and my eyes widen. “She told us Luke is her friend, but I think he’s her boyfriend. They’re on a date now, aren’t they?”

I can try and deny it, but I know my daughter is smart and won’t buy anything I tell her.

“What do you know about boyfriends?” I tease, my attempt to lighten up the mood. 

“I’ve just turned nine, I’m not stupid,” Minnie rolls her eyes. “‘Sides I’m thinking about getting one of those boyfriend thingies.”

I sit there slack-jawed, and my daughter roars with laughter.

“Minnie Alexandra, you’re going to drive me to an early grave, you know that?”

“Hey, what are you middle naming me for? I was joking!” She says, still laughing as she picks a piece of pepperoni off her pizza.

“How do you feel about your mum dating again?” I ask her.

She pauses. “I don’t know yet. As long as he’s nice and doesn’t put me under the stairs…”

“I’m sure he won’t. In the attic maybe,” I joke.

She laughs again. I’m thinking about keeping that bloke in the attic so my wife won’t date him anymore. Or even better, six feet under my patio. That’ll do.

“It’s gonna be okay, right, dad?”

Honestly, I’m not sure. But I don’t have the heart to tell her that.

“Yeah, Min. It’s gonna be okay.”

***

I see the headlight shining into the front windows as I walk down the stairs from tucking my daughter into her bed. That must be Emma and her date. I pull back the curtain a little to peek outside, and I’m right as I see that bollockface’s car in front of the house. 

You know that saying; curiosity killed the cat? Well, in my case, curiosity fucked me with a chainsaw. 

I’m a bloody idiot. I should have just closed the curtain back as soon as I recognised the car. I mean… it’s the end of a date. What did I expect to see? A high five? I knew I was so sure when they left that he would not be getting anything more than a friendly kiss, but that date must have gone really well, because right now, my eyes may as well fall out of their sockets as I see that bastard’s tongue down my wife’s throat. 

I’m frozen. I’m gripping the curtain so tight that my knuckles are turning white. I stand there—stunned. Watching. I’m not even sure for how long. It does feel like forever. Like an eternity. 

In hell.

And then Emma pulls back, and everything seems like a blur. I have to remind myself that my daughter is sleeping upstairs so I won’t go apeshit and knock that wanker square on his arse. 

I’m still glued to the floor by the door. I’m too shocked to move. I hear the sound of keys rattling before the door swings open, and she looks surprised when she sees me.

And all hell breaks loose.

“What the fuck, Emma?!” She jolts at hearing me shout. I rarely did it. In fact, I’m not even sure if I’d ever yell at my wife before throughout our marriage. “You told me last night you’d never even kissed him. You told me you weren’t ready.”

“I- I don’t know. He caught me off guard. That was-”

“I told you I wanted to make this work,” I remind her, trying to lower my voice so I won’t wake my daughter up. She doesn’t need to see this. “Us. Our marriage. I told you I wanted to fight for you. But I can’t do that with someone shoving their tongue down my wife’s throat, can I?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see her tear up and I immediately feel regret. That was harsh. But before I can apologise, I can see her lip curls up and I know she’s about to get nasty. It’s a rarity with her when we’ve fought in the past, but I feel it coming.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She sneers. “You think that if you put a toy down, it’ll still be sitting there when you want to play with it again.”

“That’s-”

“You have no right to be upset at me. We’ve split up for nearly a year now. What I do and what I don’t do on my dates is none of your business.” 

“I want us to give our marriage another shot,” I say in exasperation. “I want to try to win you back, but fuck’s sake you’re not even giving me the time of day.”

“Oh, look how the tables turned,” she taunts. “Sucks, innit? Being the one struggling to find the time when it seems like the other doesn’t give a crap?”

“Cheap shot, Ems,” I retort.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, H?” 

Emma averts her eyes, her lower lip quivering. I can’t tell if she regrets her harsh words or not, but she doesn’t look back my way, and she seems to have said her piece.

I knew sooner or later this was bound to happen. We never had our big fight, not even that night when she decided that enough was enough.

“I cannot possibly go through that again. It physically hurts,” she says softly. “I know I was the one who ended it, but when you just left like that the next morning without so much of a fight as if ten years means nothing to you… that really did hurt. You left me alone to talk to the kids about what happened. And sure, you did call every day. But it took you nearly nine months to finally come and see your children?”

“I needed some time. Some space,” I tell her. “Do you think it’s easy for me being there? Away from my wife and kids?”

“You chose to be there.”

“You know I couldn’t stay in London,” I murmur. “It’s too hard. At least in LA sometimes I can just pretend that everything’s okay. That we’re okay. That my wife and kids will be there waiting for me when I get home. I can’t do that in London.”

“That’s a shit excuse and you know it,” she mutters.

“I still love you, Em,” I say with a sigh. I know trying to defend myself further for what I did will get me nowhere. “We can fix this. We can be a family again.”

“Harry, it’s too late.”

“Is it him?” I can’t help but go there, because that’s a possibility. “Do you love him already?”

“Luke is a fresh start for me, H. I may not love him now but at least it doesn’t hurt looking at him. It took me months to be able to get back up again, to get to where I am right now. To finally find a little bit of peace.”

Emma’s head hangs low, and she rubs at her temple with her fingers. I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms. But by how stiff her spine is, I can tell she wouldn’t come willingly. 

“I’m sorry, Emma,” I whisper, resigned. Tears well up in our eyes. There’s nothing I can say that will change her mind because we’re not seeing eye to eye. She’s still focused on the past, not that I blame her because I did hurt her badly, but I know that there is no way we can go anywhere if she can’t see past the harms I’ve caused in the past.  “I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” she says, her expression softens. Her thumb runs at a part of her finger where a ring used to be. “Now, I just want us to try and make this separation work. Focus on the kids. Let’s do the right thing by them.”

I nod.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“When did it all start?” I ask, my voice cracks a little. “When did you start feeling like you’re invisible to me?”

“I’m not sure I can point down to one exact moment,” she takes a shaky breath and pauses. “The change was gradual that by the time I realised it, I didn’t even recognise us anymore. I spent days and nights wondering what happened to us. That wasn’t us.”

I wipe that one tear running halfway down her cheek, and as soon as my thumb touches her skin, I lose it. I can’t help it by this point. Tears flow as much as I try to hold them back. She’s crying too. This is painful. 

“And it’d be too easy to say that I felt invisible,” she continues. “Because the truth is, I felt painfully visible. You ignored me on purpose. I wasn’t even sure what I was to you anymore, because the only chance for me to get your attention was by getting you in bed. And that was wrong. It hurts, because it felt like you only needed me to warm your bed.”

I want to deny that statement. I want to yell it’s not true. That I never intended to take her for granted. That she still makes my heart skip a beat like a bloody teenager seeing his first crush. 

But I don’t.

Because she’s right. I’m not sure what happened either, but we’d changed. Maybe it’s our jobs, maybe it’s the endless responsibilities. Domesticity, children, they wore us down. Kisses became perfunctory. Hugs became less frequent. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I took my wife for a date night other than for social obligations.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologising to her if I have to, she deserves it. “I hurt you badly. I really am sorry, Emma.”

“It wasn’t all you though,” she mumbles. “I never called you out on it.”

“You didn’t,” I reply. “I never worked out why?”

“I swept it under the carpet because it was embarrassing. It felt silly having to ask for your attention. And I don’t know… pride, maybe? And the kids. I didn’t want them to know something was wrong. So I played along and carried on like nothing was happening.”

“When really…”

“It was like a punch to the guts each time. You were an excellent father. You still are, the kids adore you. This may sound insane and it’s embarrassing and painful for me to admit this, but there were times when I saw you with the kids and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. When you couldn’t even be bothered to look at me… it felt like you took a dump over all my love for you.”

“Emma…”

“I wish I could get past that. I wish I could just forget what happened and trust you again.” 

I bring her in for a hug and say nothing. She needs to get this all out. This is part of the process, and I’m here to listen. 

But where do we go from there?

Reconciling a broken marriage is tricky. I am not a violent person but I have never wanted to strangle people as much as I want to strangle those who wrote articles with countless advice regarding this subject, making it seem like it’s easy. Talk it out, get your point across, and you’re out of the dog house. Well, you know what, bollockface? It turns out that listening is not enough. Sod you and your dumb articles. 

All I know is that I can’t rush this. She’s not ready, and that’s okay. Right now, we both have things to work on. She needs to learn to let go of her resentment, and I have to learn not to take anything and anyone for granted ever again. This is killing me, but there is no one to blame but myself. I take solace in knowing the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Maybe one day we’ll be back together. Maybe we won’t. 

“Thank you for telling me all that,” I mumble against her hair. 

“Thank you for listening,” she looks up and gives me a sad smile.

***

Emma comes from a big family. 

There’s Jamie, her eldest brother and the only guy. I think the fact that he grew up surrounded by sisters was what made us the closest in the first place. He hates wine, even though he makes a career out of managing his own vineyard. I know, the irony. The next is Suze, sister number one who lives in Sheffield with her husband and three girls. Suze and her husband are both orthopaedic surgeons. Then my wife, the middle child. Then Meg, sister number two who just had a baby. It’s another girl so my George is still the only grandson in the family. And then Lucy, the youngest of the clan who’s still in university. 

They all live nearby, and I knew that all my in-laws hated me a tiny bit for taking their daughter and sister away. They were a hard outfit to infiltrate. You don’t enter into a relationship with one of them, you get a whole gaggle of them. It was hard to get in, but once you’re in, you’re in for life. 

After we’d split, I called my parents-in-law the next morning just before my flight to LA. I wasn’t sure whether or not Emma had told them about what happened, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, they’d become my parents too for a decade. So I explained and apologised. Of course, I didn’t tell them the details because I knew they were between Emma and me, and they respected us enough not to ask. They were upset, but they also understood that these things happen in life. All they wanted was just for their grandbabies to come out of this unscathed. 

Now here I am, walking behind Emma and our children as we step over the threshold into her parents’ home for their monthly roast. Her parents invited me and I accepted. I don’t want to turn down any extra time I have with my kids as I’ve decided to leave today and head back to London. I was prepared to stay longer, take some time off work and fight for my marriage, but since it all has gone to pot, I figured I should leave. The world doesn’t stop even when you’re struggling with marital woes. I’ve got work to do, and I also know that it is best to give Emma space. 

I hear voices as we walk inside.

“If littl’uns are going in highchairs then what’s that extra space for?” I hear Meg’s husband say.

Meg tells him. “Count again, addition was never your strong point.”

“Oh.”

The house is suddenly quiet when they see me. This is my first time seeing the whole family again after we split, and even though my parents-in-law and I are on good terms, and Jamie too, I know the sisters would be a different story. All four of them are beyond close and they’re now looking at me as if they should’ve chucked me in the oven instead of the chicken.

You don’t do that to our sister. You hurt one, you hurt all of us. 

“Uncle Harry!” Freya shouts in excitement. She is one of Suze’s daughters. She and her twin sister Tessa are only a few months older than my George.

Suze, who is sitting on the sofa, looks a bit sullen, not knowing what the right call is to make. Meg and her husband freeze. 

“Alright there, mate?” Jamie greets me, trying to ease the tension. Suze glares at him.

“Are you here to do magic then, Uncle Harry?” Tessa asks. 

I bend down to her level. “Not sure I know any magic, Tessie.”

“Yeah you do!” Freya pipes up. “Because when we were driving here, daddy said you did a disappearing act on Aunty Ems. Show us what you did!”

“FREYA!” Her dad barks.

Meg can barely contain her giggles.

“But we like magic. You’re rubbish at magic,” she says to her dad. He widens his eyes. 

The sisters are now all smiling smugly, knowing a couple of six-year-olds just shamed me on their behalf. Extra roast potatoes for those two.

Lucy, the littlest sister, suddenly enters. That’s definitely not a happy face. “Oh, it’s you. Is that why everyone went so quiet? What are you doing here?”

“Luce,” Emma mutters.

“Because I invited him,” says a voice emerging from the kitchen. My father-in-law. “Harry, glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” I reply. “Thanks for the invitation.”

Lucy stares daggers at her dad, knowing she can’t unleash her trademark rapier wit as she’s surrounded by her little nieces and nephews. That one may be the youngest but she’s the scariest out of all the sisters, my wife included.

“Look, if it’s weird, I can just leave?” I offer.

“Nonsense, you must stay for supper,” Emma’s mum replies.

“Yeah, Harry, stay,” says Emma’s dad, staring at his daughters. “I want you lot to be nice. Otherwise, I’m putting you on the kids table. You hear me?”

The three of them nod in unison. 

“You two look well,” I say, my attempt to make small talk. 

“You know, dad’s been singing this morning,” Emma’s mum chirps, tilting her head towards her husband. “He joined a male choir. They think they’re Westlife.”

We all can’t help but laugh. This is classic mum. The tension seems to ease away. 

Let’s just hope it stays that way.

***

There’s a strange feeling of déjà vu as I take a seat on the steps in front of the cottage. 

I’m all packed up and ready to go. My weekender bag is in the boot of my car. Nothing left to do but say goodbye to my wife and kids, but I don’t go straight inside. 

Not yet. I need a moment.

These steps witnessed a lot of our marriage even though we’d never stayed here for longer than a couple of weeks at a time. We loved to sit out here in the summer. I remember when I first brought my stuff here shortly after we got married, we sat out here with beers, sleeves rolled up, boxes stacked into Jenga-style columns. 

I also remember sitting here last year on Christmas morning. Emma and I were both in our pyjamas and slippers, sipping coffees out of our matching Christmas mugs. We watched the kids ride their new scooters up and down the street. Everything was perfect. I had no idea that my marriage would end in just two months after that.

“Harry?”

I look over my shoulder and I urge her to sit beside me. She comes over and does just that. There is silence. We don’t say a word to each other. A quiet hum of traffic in the distance, puffs of breath cloud the air making me think we should both be wearing coats. Christmas is nearly here again. My heart aches at the thought of this being our first Christmas since everything fell apart.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“I should be the one apologising, Em.”

“I know you wanted to work things out,” I hear the sadness in her voice. “I really loved you, you know that, right?”

“I do,” I nod. “Our marriage, all those years… it wasn’t all bad, though, right?”

“Of course,” she quickly replies. “We had our moments. We have Minnie and George.”

We pause, letting that sink in. In all this mess, those two were and remain everything, some symbol of our marriage not being a complete disaster. 

“There were also times when you were a good husband,” she adds.

“Why do I feel like you’re going to pat me on the head?”

Emma laughs under her breath.

“Your new bloke seemed a nice sort,” I tell her, because it’s true. I may hate the guy with a burning passion, but that’s only because he’s dating my wife. 

“He is.”

“That got legs?” I ask her.

“Possibly.”

“I want you to be happy, Ems,” I tell her. “With or without me.”

“Harry…”

“But I also want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you. No rush, no timeline. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. Because for me, it’s either you or no one else.”

The front door opens and two little faces pop out from behind it.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” Shouts Minnie.

“Well then come here and give me cuddles to warm me up,” I tell her.

Emma and I take a kid each. She takes George and lets him entangle his legs in hers, cradling himself into the hook of his mummy’s arm. Minnie uses me like a climbing frame. I bop her on the nose as I’ve done since she was a baby, and I like that it never stops being hilarious to her. The sky starts to dim, trees casting shadows onto the pavement. A house down the road has some festive lights that switch on and flicker on and off in strange syncopated patterns.

“This is nice,” Minnie mumbles. “I miss the awesome foursome.”

“The awesome foursome, huh?” I ask.

“That’s what you used to call us,” I hear the sadness in her voice and my heart aches. I know she feels this all a lot more than her little brother. “I still remember.”

“Do you really have to go again, daddy?” George looks at me with sad puppy dog eyes. 

“Yeah, do you?” Minnie asks. “I love having you here.”

“I do, my loves,” I reply sadly. “Be good for mummy, alright? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“I don’t like seeing you go,” George mumbles.

The emotion is a little unbearable and I see a tear trail down my wife’s cheek. George looks petrified seeing his mum cry. 

“Don’t be sad, mummy.”

“I’m not sad,” she shakes her head, quickly wiping the tear off her cheek. “I’m just sorry daddy and I couldn’t make it work.”

“Did we do something wrong?” George asks, looking at his mum and then me.

“Oh, mate,” I reach out to cup his face, Emma pulls him into a hug. “Of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong. You two are perfect, you hear me?”

“Do you still love each other?” Minnie asks.

Emma looks at me in the eye as she answers our daughter. “I’ll always love your dad, because he gave me both of you.”

“And I’ll always love your mum,” I say, my eyes pinned on my wife. “No matter what.”

Emma

“So… tell me, he a good lay? He looks the sort to have some girth.”

I probably should have warned you beforehand about this sister of mine.

Lucy is my entertainer sister who has done every job going alongside studying. She went to dance school, spent six months on a cruise ship, has been an extra and once did a two-month stint in Les Misérables. On weekends she dresses up as Disney characters and does kids’ parties which means she owns a lot of wigs and always has glitter in her bra. She’s the fun one. I keep her close because as much as I love my other siblings, this one has been a good entertainment through my separation. Mum suggested for her to live with me for a couple of weeks when I first moved back to the Peak, and I’m so glad she did. It was around the time I lost a stone and would spend most of the time napping, crying and staring at the wall, surviving on cups of tea and Rich Tea fingers. She couldn’t cook or clean and she used all my shampoo but she brought some light into the house when grey clouds threatened to consume it. She was also a great distraction because I could live vicariously through her tales of going to gigs and clubs and hear how she’s not slept and got her boobs out for reasons of fun and frivolity.

However, when you talk to her, she always goes there. She’s brash and has no conversational limit. She thinks her purpose is to not only feed me but also revive a pretty dead sex life too. Actually, it’s not just her. After my husband and I split, my sisters think it’s their job to pique my interest in men again. Luke happened after a boozy Chinese takeaway about two months ago when I joked that a spring roll was the most phallic thing I’d had in my mouth for over half a year. I remember a dumpling rolled out of Meg’s mouth in shock, so Suze decided to play the matchmaker and introduced me to Luke who worked at the same hospital with her.

Tonight, we’re having another takeaway night since my parents have all the grandchildren for the weekend. Bless them for entertaining that crew of children we seem to have acquired over the past nine years. We have seven between Suze, myself and Meg, and I just hope that my parents are well stocked with wine. They will need it. 

We all sit around my dining room table with the remnants of a KFC bargain bucket, a selection of Thai food, a giant bag of chips and some battered sausages. I’d admit that we were already a little drunk to buy food sanely. Luke is also here, I thought it’d be nice to give my sisters the chance to get to know him. And it doesn’t take Lucy more than thirty seconds after Luke gets up to take a phone call before asking such questions. 

“I don’t know? I haven’t slept with him yet.”

Lucy looks at me in confusion. “But you’ve been on dates and stuff?”

“We did have a cheeky snog last week but we’re taking it slow.”

“What are you waiting for? Just go shag him. Erase the memory of that wanker?” 

“Hey, he’s your niece and nephew’s father,” I chastise her for calling Harry names. “Don’t call him that.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep with Luke?” Meg, my other sister asks me. “Lucy is right though. He’s really tall, I bet he’s VWE.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Very well-endowed.”

I chuckle. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

Meg giggles and places her head on my shoulder. 

“Last time I had sex was on Valentine’s Day, girls. Do your maths. The next day, my marriage collapsed.”

Both of them huddle into me like penguins. 

“Which is why you just need to get over yourself,” Lucy remarks. “You need to remember what sex is like. It’ll be fun and make you feel good. If you don’t want to do it with Luke, you can have some taster session? I’ve got a uni mate who’d shag you.”

“Lovely. No.”

Lucy huffs. “You’re so boring.”

“Honestly, Em, Luke is fit. Seems like a nice fella, and he genuinely likes you. I’d have a go on him if I weren’t married. You should just do it,” says Meg.

“Yeah, you could shag him tonight,” Lucy adds. “Meg and I can piss off out and then…” 

Then she does a strange rave-style dance as she thinks of her plan coming together. Luke returns from his phone call and Lucy jiggles in her seat. Don’t you bloody dare. 

“Luke, we need more wine,” says Lucy. “There is not enough and we thought you could walk down to the shop and get some?”

Meg and I look at each other for a second, wondering what our sister is up to. 

“Sure, yeah, I could get wine,” Luke replies. “Any other requests?”

If she tells him to get condoms in then I will skewer her with a chopstick.

“Anything you might fancy or need?”

She’s walking an incredibly thin, thin line. 

Luke gets up to retrieve his coat and grazes my hand as he does. This move doesn’t go unnoticed by Meg and she gives me a sly wink. I hand him my keys and he heads for the front door. Meg stares Lucy out.

“Seriously?” She says.

“We need to prepare you if you’re going to sleep with him.”

“Like mentally?” I ask.

“Like have you had a tidy? This will be your first time. You’ll need to at least tidy up the flaps and do a bit of topiary.”

“LUCY!” I gasp and laugh at the same time, holding my hand to my face. Who is this woman? How can you raise five children in the same house and come up with such a random entity?

She stands up and heads for my kitchen drawers, rifling around until she pulls out a pair of scissors.

“Show me your bush,” she orders.

“Lucy! I prepare food with those scissors.”

“And we’ll wash them?”

Meg is in hysterics as she sees this scene unfolding in front of us.

“I’m not getting my bush out in my kitchen.”

“You’re so dull,” Lucy complains. “I’m trying to help here. What are your pits like? Shame there’s no time to tackle your upper lip.”

I put my hand over it instinctively. “I’ve got a moustache?”

“Well, you’re not Tom Selleck but it could do with a bleach.”

“You’re being cruel now, Luce,” Meg giggles. “But I think we do need the comedy of seeing Lucy trimming your bush in the kitchen.”

I stand up reluctantly and unbutton my jeans.

“Ha!” Exclaims Lucy. “You’re wearing nice knickers, you knew this was going to happen. Just peel them back a little and let me have a look.”

“Be quick for fuck’s sake. This is something that no one needs to see.”

“Do you want a shape?”

“What?”

“Yeah, like a heart? It’d be cute.”

“No!”

Meg roars with laughter.

“I’ll just trim the length then,” says Lucy. “Meg, put your hand out.”

“Do I have to?”

“Don’t you love your sister enough to at least hold her pubes?”

I’m not even sure what’s happening here. One sister is very close to my private regions with a sharp object and I hear the creak of metal as she shears away. The other collects the trimmings in a napkin in her palm. This feels like an opportune moment to ring Suze, our other sister, and start a FaceTime chat. That time we all took one for the team so Emma could reclaim her sex life.

“Thanks, Luce.”

“You don’t say this enough I feel.”

“We really don’t,” says Meg.

“Want me to look at yours, Meg?”

“I’m good.”

“What if he’s into weird stuff?” I ask.

“Like?”

“I don’t know… maybe like choking? Stuff like that.”

“Well, no one breaks out all the moves on their first time,” says Meg but Lucy gives us a look like she begs to differ.

“And I’m not on anything. I stopped the pills months ago. What if I get pregnant?”

“That’s what condoms are for?” 

They both give me a look that says I am not fourteen and that I should have an inkling about how reproduction works and the preventative measures that I can put in place to stop myself from getting pregnant. 

“How do I initiate it?”

“Maybe you could dance for him?” says Luce mockingly. “You’ve both had a drink, let it just happen. Planned sex is the worst kind of sex.”

“I planned nothing. You’re the one who’s got the kitchen scissors.”

“I’m done, anyway. Not my finest work but then at least he’ll be able to find it?”

Meg laughs again as she goes to the bin with her napkin of pubes. I do my jeans up and sit at the table, downing what’s left in my glass. What if he can’t get it up? Or worse, what if he doesn’t like my boobs? I have modest boobs. They wouldn’t win any competitions. What if he wants better boobs?

“You’re overthinking,” says Meg.

“I haven’t got any condoms.”

Lucy reaches inside her handbag, pulls out two packets of johnnies and hands them to me. How far ahead has she planned this?

“Any other excuse?” Lucy asks.

“Look, tonight, just get naked with the fella, have some bloody fun. Enjoy yourself.”

I hear the key go in the latch of the front door. That was quick. Crap. Luke enters the kitchen with two bottles of red that I immediately feel guilty about as I’ve got a rack of it in the utility room. He also carries a few packs of crisps and takes the kitchen scissors that were on my table.

“No!” I stop him. “Those need to be washed.”

He looks at me in confusion and I love that he puts them in the sink without any further questions asked. He rips opens the packet of crisps with his hands instead.

“Crisps?”

Lucy grabs a handful of crisps before she grabs her phone, pretending to read some texts. “Bollocks! Meg, we forgot about the party.”

Meg quickly plays along. “Oh yeah, crap. It’s that birthday party, innit?”

I feel awful. I’m sending the sisters back out into the cold so Luke and I can have the house to ourselves. They both keep winking at me which is more down to the fact that they’ve had at least a bottle of wine each for themselves tonight. Luke stands at the kitchen door while I wave everyone off. This feels weird. 

“Have fun, kids!” Chants Lucy as she shepherds Meg away from the house. I shut the door.

And then there were two. I turn around and Luke is no longer at the doorway. I tiptoe into the kitchen to find him stacking plates. 

“Shall we tidy up now?” He asks.

“It can wait.”

My phone on the table lights up with an incoming text. It’s Lucy. Don’t forget to adjust your tits. Make sure they’re facing forwards. Show a bit of bra. 

Does this mean my boobs are not always facing forward? Where are they looking? This isn’t helping at all. I ignore it.

“Alright,” Luke says with a smile that makes me feel relaxed but also on the faint side of nauseated. It’s probably first time nerves. Is it weird that I’m thinking about the cleanliness of my bedroom? Did I pick up yesterday’s bra from the corner of my room? Do I remember how to go down on a man? What if he doesn’t fancy me?

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder whether my marriage ended with Harry because I was terrible in bed. Maybe I wasn’t attractive enough. I’ve had kids, parts of me are stretched and doughy. Maybe I didn’t provide what he needed. 

In the last year of our marriage, I think it’s safe to say that I was mainly the one to initiate things between us and my success rate wasn’t 100%. There’s this nagging thought in my head that maybe even on those nights I succeeded, those were just pity shags.

You know what, sod it. 

I grab him by the collar and kiss him. He stumbles a little but then lets his body fold into mine. I can do this. Crap. He’s lifting me up. He sits me on the counter and I’d like to say the moment overtakes but there’s red wine inches from my arse so I move the glass with my hand whilst still kissing him. We’re kissing. This is weird. It’s different. It’s not my husband’s lips. Why am I thinking about my husband’s lips? 

I shake my head, banishing that image. Harry doesn’t belong in this room with me right now. 

I feel his hands in the small of my back and then he lifts my jumper over my head. I’m in my bra. Don’t overthink it. Oh, the bra is off. My nipples are out in the kitchen. I run my fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down my neck. Is it weird that right now, at this very moment, all I can think about is that his blond, floppy hair looks like a golden retriever?

I gasp and push him away involuntarily when his mouth wraps on my nipple. This is wrong. This feels wrong. I thought it was just first time jitters but now I think this is deeper than that. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, looking concerned.

I grab my jumper and quickly put it back on. “I… I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t. I have to go.”

“Emma, I’m sorry,” his face reads panic. “Did I read the signals wrong? I thought you wanted this. I feel terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologise,” I say hastily. “You didn’t. I did want this. Or so I thought. It’s just… I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll be ready any time soon. Or ever.”

“What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?”

I have to be straight with him. I take a deep breath. “I want to give you the opportunity to walk away. You’re a good guy, Luke. I just don’t think it’s fair for me to string you along if we can never progress.”

“Is it your ex-husband?”

He’s still my husband. But I don’t say this out loud. 

“He told me that he wanted to give our marriage another shot about two weeks ago when he was here,” I tell him. “I did say no right away. I didn’t think it was a good idea. But…”

“Is it really?” He asks. “You two have a lot of history. Two kids. Why wouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“I’m worried.”

“And what are you worried about?”

“My heart?” I say quietly. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

Luke smiles at me through sympathetic eyes. “Listen to me, Emma. I’m not a cardiologist, but I know that the hearts are the strongest organs in the human body. They can go through anything.”

What happens next feels like a blur. All I know is that by midnight, I’m already halfway down the M1, on my way to London. 

Harry

It was a knock on the door that woke me up.

When I first open my eyes, I’m disoriented. I don’t know what time it is, or how long I’ve been asleep. Then I realise I’m on the sofa, and it’s still dark outside. It’s also raining. I walk towards the door and open it, just in time to catch a figure going down the steps, which doesn’t take me more than a second to recognise. I am in complete shock. Is this real? Is that really my wife, standing in front of my door in the middle of the night? Or are my eyes deceiving me?

“Emma?”

She stops on the pavement and slowly turns to face me. She’s spooked through—her jeans moulded to the curves of her legs, the sleeves of her jumper dripping, her hair flat, lips slightly tinged with blue.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she says. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

I open the door wider, and my voice is drowsy and deep when I say, “Come on, let’s talk inside.”

She takes a step back instead.

“I just… I wasn’t thinking. I’m here. I don’t know why,” she sounds genuinely bewildered—even a little panicked.

“Are the kids in the car?” I ask her and she shakes her head. The wind blows, spraying ice-cold drops across my bare skin where my shirt hangs open. “You’re shivering, honey, come inside.” 

She stares at me, so many emotions swirling in her expression. She’s like a skittish kitten who can’t decide if she should let the stranger pat her head or haul up the nearest tree. It breaks my heart.

“I don’t think I can.”

So I go to her. 

The rain is cold and hard, soaking my shirt. Her eyes dart from the pavement, to my chest, up to my eyes and back again, like she’s ready to bolt—but her feet stay glued.

I lean in so she can hear me through the rain. “Do you remember the first time we went to Paris together? When we were young and crazy enough to only rent one electric scooter for both of us, and we rode around the city at night?”

The corners of her mouth tug up a little. “I remember.”

“But then I was going way too fast and we hit a rock, and both of us went flying. I didn’t want to ride anymore the next day, because I was afraid you’d get hurt. Do you remember what you told me?”

“I said…” she begins, her eyes meet mine. “I said we had to keep riding. Because it’s the only thing that made falling worth it.”

I nod tenderly and hold out my hand. “I’m not going to let us fall this time, Emma.”

Her eyes are back on the pavement. “I’m not sure-”

I know she still doesn’t trust me. I know that sadness on her face and how it penetrates so deeply. I know she’s probably better off without me, the bastard who crushed her heart and soul and took her for granted for years. 

We shy away from the things that hurt us. But that’s what scars are for. They protect the wounds. They cover them with thick, numb tissue so we’ll never have to feel that same pain again. The scars that my wife has inside? They’re tough. 

I beg when she continues to stare at my hand, “Please, just come inside.”

Slowly, tentatively, her hand slides into mine. 

And we go in out of the rain.

I take her upstairs to the bedroom that used to be ours. Her teeth chatter as she sits on the edge of the bed. I throw a blanket over her shoulders, rubbing her arms, sliding down to cup her hands. 

“Shit, you’re freezing. How long were you out there?”

“A while. I was walking… thinking.”

“Just some friendly advice. Next time you go a-wandering, stop and buy an umbrella.”

Emma shivers as she laughs. I pull the blanket closer around her and rub her back. 

“So… you gonna tell me what’s this midnight adventure about?” 

Her voice comes out soft and wavering in the dark room. “I was with Luke.”

“Did he do something to you? I’ve watched enough crime documentaries to pull a perfect murder.”

She shakes her head and chuckles. “We were having a takeaway night. Meg and Lucy were there too, but then they left and there were just the two of us and-”

“Please spare me the details,” I beg.

“Nothing happened. I just… I couldn’t get through it. Your face kept popping out in my head and I knew that if I went all the way through, we’d lose our chance. And I didn’t want us to lose our chance. I know this is completely the opposite of what I said to you two weeks ago but it’s true. I wasn’t ready then and maybe I’m still not ready now, but I don’t know about the future and you said you’d wait for me and…”

Her words trail off and my chest clenches with that sublime mix of excitement and trepidation. Of wanting something so much it’s like every cell in your body is stretching, reaching for it, yet there’s a grey shadow of worry that you might never get to touch it.

“Oh, Ems…”

I cup my hands around hers and blow into them. Another shiver vibrates through her. 

For a moment we sit there in silence. Memories of us in this bed come flooding back. Of the kids piling in here bright and early, and us having cuddles and catch ups over the week just gone. Of the two of us and that sacred half an hour we had together before we go to sleep. Where we could have a proper chat without little voices interrupting us every few seconds. Sometimes we’d read together too, and other times when we just couldn’t be arsed, we’d simply spend that half an hour scrolling through memes and having a laugh together.

“You’ve got to get out of these wet clothes,” I say gently, with absolutely no teasing suggestion. We’re right on the precipice. I can feel it. And I have to tread so carefully, because one wrong move could send her away, truly lost to me.

I peel my soaked shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes move, trailing over my shoulders. I stand and slowly unbutton my jeans, leaving me in black boxer briefs. 

Her eyes follow my every move, looking at me.

I push the blanket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I grasp her jumper at the bottom and lift slowly. I wait for her to push me away but she doesn’t. She raises her arms instead. I pull the jumper over her head and it lands with a plop on the floor. I remind myself not to enjoy the view. I’m trying hard not to look.

My chest rises and falls as rapidly as hers. I sink to my knees in front of her and reach out for the button of her jeans. She lifts her hips and my fingertips graze her skin as I slide them down her thighs, leaving the white lace knickers in place. 

“Get under the sheets,” I whisper and she does just that.

She scoots to her side of the bed, and I slide beside her. Without a word, she snuggles into my side. The cool feel of her flesh is a shock at first, but in just a few moments, my heat chases away her chill. Except for her feet. I practically jump when she runs one up my calf.

“Yer a bloody ice cube!”

She laughs kind of evilly. 

We face each other, almost nose to nose. Her hair still drips at the ends and a drop trickles over her collarbone, down her chest, and I’ve got to take a deep breath—because I want to lick it off her so badly.

“Talk to me,” she says softly.

“I’m taking time off work.”

“But you never take time off work?” 

“I’ve got a lot to make up to the kids,” I tell her. “So I told Jeff to bugger off for at least until after New Year.”

I see her smile in the dim light.

“I’m gonna stay up with my mum,” I add. “I’ll only be an hour away from you lot.”

This is something that I’ve been mulling about. If I really do want a chance with Emma, I need to move up there because absence does not make the heart grow fonder. That may be true in secondary school when you went away for the summer. But in marriage, especially in a broken marriage, absence separates people. It creates distance. That’s the opposite of what you’re trying to achieve. You want the closeness back.

My wife’s palm runs over my bicep—tentatively at first—then with a surer touch. “They’d love that.”

“Also, you remember my old mate Stu?” She nods. “We got in touch just earlier today. He’s got a litter of puppies and he offered one for us. I told him I need to talk to you first. So what do you think?”

“A puppy, huh?”

“A puppy.” 

“I think that’s a good idea,” she says. “But I’ve never had a dog though.”

“I can train it first at my mum’s?” I offer. “I’ll get it all settled. Then when it starts sleeping through the night, I’ll bring it over.”

“Does it make me a terrible mum for wishing we had that kind of service when the kids were newborns?” 

“We had that service. It’s called sending them to the grandparents.”

We both laugh, and when the laughter dies down, we’re silent for a few minutes. The thrum of my heartbeat jacks up as her hand continues to stroke my arm. 

“Harry?” Her voice is the barest whisper, like she’s checking to see if I’m asleep. 

“Hmm?”

“I… I’ve missed you. So much.”

And I’m done.

The need to kiss her, to touch her, has been pulling at me like a raging current ever since I saw her on the front step, and with those few words, I let the current take me. 

***

Numerous studies have shown that having sex extends the human life span. At this rate, Emma and I are going to live forever. We probably slept twenty minutes max throughout the night and I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve done it. I’m pretty sure the last time we did something like that was ten years ago on our honeymoon. 

We’re sitting at the breakfast nook. Her hair mussy and she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. She looks freshly fucked, which I know to be true, and I reckon she’d be ready to crawl back into bed with me if I just crook my finger. But I don’t do that. Because this, us, sitting here in the morning sunlight, playing footsies under the table while we talk over coffee is all I’ve been dreaming about every morning.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks when she catches me looking.

“You,” I smile. “You look perfect.”

“No, no more,” she shakes her head frantically. “I won’t be able to walk.”

“You dirty lass, I was trying to be romantic and all that,” I can’t help but snort in laughter. “And you always do that… rebuff any type of compliment I try to give you.”

It’s true. If I tell her she looks beautiful, she waves a dismissive hand at me. If I compliment her mind, she blushes. Even an appreciative look from me has her turning shy like a schoolgirl.

When she doesn’t respond to me, I continue to poke at her. “Why is that? Why does it embarrass you when I tell you that you’re smokin’ hot?”

She wrinkles her nose at me. “Because it’s weird. I feel like you just have to say that.” 

She pretends to go through one of her old magazines from when she still lived here. I reach across the table and bat at it, causing one side to pull out of her hands and reveal her entire face to me. Now she’s glaring. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

And I grin when I see red stain her cheeks.

“And you’ve got the most gorgeous body. I take one look at you naked and I can’t help but get rock hard.”

“Stop it,” she blusters, now blushing all the way down her neck.

I change tactics, but I know this will embarrass her just as much. “You are the most amazing woman. Kindest, genuine and grounded. Funniest too. And you’re the best mother for our babies.”

“Okay,” she snaps at me as she closes the magazine and slams it down onto the table. “You’ve made your point.”

Chuckling, I stretch back in my chair and nudge her foot with mine under the table. “You’re adorable.”

She rolls her eyes, which I find to be beyond adorable. 

Standing up from my chair, I walk around the table and hold my hand out to her. She willingly takes it and stands when I give her a tug. It’s a natural move for her, to walk straight into my embrace and press herself against me. I tilt my head and kiss her on her jaw. “It’s something you need to get used to… compliments from me. It’s never going to stop.”

She moans softly in my ear.

“Want to know what else you’re going to have to get used to?” I whisper as I kiss my way down her neck.

Her fingers come up, tangle in my hair, and fist tightly. “What’s that?”

“My face between your legs.”

***

Some people might not put Quaglino’s into the romantic restaurant bracket, but they’d be wrong, very wrong. In actual fact, it’s quite hard to top. The interior has this 1930’s romance charm with candlelit tables, dark-panelled walls and an adjoining room for dancing to the soft tunes of the piano man singing bluesy versions of classic songs. 

Tonight, I managed to convince Emma to go out to dinner with me before she goes back to our babies. I insist on driving her since I don’t want her to drive alone at night again, which she initially refused but finally agreed.

We finish our dinner and split a slice of cheesecake for dessert. Probably not my brightest idea since I keep having to readjust myself because seeing her slowly swallow a mouthful of white, creamy concoction is a pure kind of torture. But I try to kick those dirty thoughts out of my mind and focus. 

Since last night, we’ve successfully managed to avoid the talk. It feels like we’re in a bubble where everything is perfect and we’re just scared to burst it, but I know this can’t go on. Emma and I need to have a proper chat if we want this to work.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“You and I need to talk, don’t you think?” I begin. 

“You’re right,” she nods. “So…”

“What is this?” I gesture between us. “Are you ready to give us another shot?”

“I think so,” she nods. “But I want us to take it slow.”

“You set the pace,” I assure her. “I want this to work more than I want anything else in my life. So I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“We’ll see this as a new dalliance,” she adds.

I know this is supposed to be serious so I try hard not to break into laughter. “Okay. I will court you but I won’t ask you to move to an estate in the country. Not right away at least.”

“I’m serious.”

“You sound like Austen.”

She rolls her eyes. “And we can’t tell anyone either.”

“I agree,” I tell her. “And from now on, we talk to each other, alright? I’ll try to make you happy the best way I know how. But if it’s not enough for you, then you need to tell me.”

She nods, but then her graze drops before she asks. “You really do want this right?”

“I told you I want this to work more than anything else in my life.”

“It’s just… when you first told me you wanted to fight for our marriage, I was overwhelmed because it was all so sudden. You told me everything I wanted to hear. Even at that moment, everything in me screamed for us to just fall back into it all the way. But there was also a part of me that thought you were just lonely, and maybe you thought that us getting back together was the answer to it.”

“Not true-”

Emma holds up her hand. “Maybe not true, but it’s my fear. That’s why I kissed Luke that night, because I was desperate. I wanted to push things with him because I knew I’d never love him the way I love you. I knew that if things went to pot, I wouldn’t be half as devastated. But with you? I don’t think I can survive that type of heartbreak again, H. You don’t know how much it killed me to end our marriage. I can’t afford to fall back into something that’s not going to last.”

“Emma,” I reach across the table to take her hand. “I can’t even imagine how hard it was for you. I know for sure it was not a decision you made lightly, nor on a whim. I wish I had fought you on it then… had fought for you then. There was a time when I thought our marriage was over, and I was going to let you go. But I’m not going to do that now. If it takes you weeks, months, hell, Emma… if it takes you years to fully trust my devotion to you, I’m in this for however long it takes.”

Emma nods, biting into her lower lip. I can see her eyes starting to water because every bit of this is overwhelming. She turns her head towards the music floating in from the other room. It’s a Van Morrison cover, Crazy Love.

“Wanna dance?”

The request takes me by surprise since this isn’t like her. But I toss my napkin on the table and move to stand next to her, holding out my hand. The simple delight on her face when her hand slides into mine is everything.

We step out onto the edge of the dance floor. I wrap my arm around her lower back, holding her tight and flush against me. One of her hands rests on my shoulder, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. The other is clasped in mine just over my heart. We sway, eyes pinned at each other for a few moments.

“Thought you hate dancing?” I smirk.

“Still hate it,” she answers. “I’m just using it as an excuse to be closer to you.”

She sighs, practically sinks into my arms. Emma’s head fits against my chest like she was made to be there. My chin rests against her hair.

“Emma?”

She lifts her head from my chest. “Yeah?”

“You don’t need an excuse.”

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love… 

***

“What the-”

“Oi!” I yell, quickly pulling the duvet over my wife and I. “Heard of knocking?”

“Heard of a bedroom lock?” Lucy challenges.

Last night, we drove up the M1 straight from the restaurant. We took breaks in deserted services with shiny floors and bad lighting where we had coffees and wandered around WHSmith bulk buying sweets even though it’s really not that far. But you can never have too many travel sweets, can you?

And now, here we are, back at the cottage. The kids are still at their grandparents until this afternoon so Emma and I are enjoying the benefit of having the house all to ourselves by having a morning shag. That is until one of her sisters walks in on us. I’m very aware that I’m still inside Emma.

I pull out, roll over to lay down next to my wife, and we both stare at Lucy who is dressed from head to toe like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin.

“Party?” Emma asks her sister. We both try not to giggle as she sashays in to look at herself in the mirror then perches on the bed in her harem pants. Today, she’s gone heavy on the winged eyeliner and shows off a flat midriff. I quite like the pointy silver shoes though.

“No, Tesco,” she says dryly. “Obviously a party.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask her. 

Lucy glares at me. “What are you doing here? Besides rearranging my sister’s guts, of course.”

I don’t even flinch. I’ve been married to Emma for ten years, I’m used to this sister of hers.

“I’m trying to win your sister back,” I say earnestly. I know that Emma and I talked about keeping this a secret, but she literally walked on us shagging. There’s no point in denying it. It’s best that she knows my true intention rather than thinking we’re divorced with benefits.

“Eh, about time,” she replies nonchalantly.

“Luce, please keep this to yourself for now,” Emma begs her. “This is still new.”

“I will,” she nods. “Just a friendly reminder, though, Styles. If you hurt my sister again, I won’t even think twice before starting a business selling voodoo dolls of you. Bet I could make a fortune of that.”

In their girl gang, Lucy is the wildcard, the likeliest to carry a shank. I don’t even laugh because she could be serious. 

“Duly noted.”

“What are you doing here this early?” Emma asks her sister.

“I wanted to ask if I can borrow that giant tiger in George’s room?”

“Feel free to borrow the rug in the front room as well,” I cackle.

“Ooh yeah,” Emma chirps. “Are you going to find a whole new world?”

“Have you got your Aladdin?”

She pulls a face at our mocking. “My mate who’s supposed to be Aladdin is sick so I asked Jamie to fill in and he agreed because he owed me a big favour. But this lot changed their mind and wanted a genie so now I have to go to Jamie’s and convince him to let me do a full blue body paint on him.”

Emma and I roar with laughter. “Please, please, please, take some piccies.” 

***

A month later…

I can only imagine the joy on my children’s faces when they open the door. I’ll be standing there with the pup in hand, but I know I’m practically vibrating with excitement myself. I glance over at the little dog crate that we’d prepared to transport him in. It’s a sweet, nine-week-old Bernese mountain dog. He’s pretty chill, curled into a round ball, but he’s not sleeping. His eyes are open and alert, as if he’s just waiting to find out what’s around the next corner.

The back of my Range Rover is loaded with two boxes of food, dog toys, bowls, a leash, and appropriate treats. Since I’m still crashing at my mum’s, that will go to her place for when the kids and this puppy come to stay. Emma has an identical list at her home, already purchased and hiding until we hand the puppy off to the kids.

I’ve got a feeling that today is going to be a good day. All morning, Emma and I texted back and forth. Some of it was practical, like making sure we agreed on all the dog rules we’d lay down with the kids tonight. Some of it was lighthearted teasing. Some of it was dirty.

I can’t remember the last time I texted my wife throughout the day just for the hell of it. I had fun with it, and I know without a doubt she had fun with it too. Which made me realise what a twat I’d been for never doing something as simple as letting her know she was on my mind in just such a way. 

Pulling into the drive, I cut my headlights so the kids wouldn’t see me approach. I shut the engine off, quietly get out of my side, and press the door closed quietly. On the other side, I open the passenger door, then spring the latch on the dog crate, and this tiny little puppy totters straight at me with tail wagging.

I lift him in my arms. I shut the door and then move over to the patch of grass. I put the puppy down so he will go potty before I bring him in. When I was a kid, we had a dog called Max, but I sort of grew up with him so I didn’t remember when he was a puppy. And Emma never had a dog before, so we’re sort of winging it with this puppy training thing. But I don’t fret about it. I mean, we’ve had babies, they’re harder than this, surely? 

I patiently wait for this little fella to do his business, which includes a few minutes where he attacks my shoelaces and tugs. Shite, he’s cute. 

Eventually, he sniffs around, tail high and then abruptly squats to pee. I thought boy dogs lift their legs when they pee but maybe not at this age. I immediately bend and give him praise with an upbeat, positive tone that makes him excited. Who’s daddy’s clever little fella? You are! Yes, you are! You did well, mate. That was brilliant! He puts his paws up on my shin, accepting my stretches with tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of his head. My kids are going to fall in love with this little guy. 

I scoop him up in my arms when he’s done and make my way inside. But instead of entering from the front door, I circle the house so I can enter from the back, knowing they must be all in the kitchen as this is usually the time when the kids would do their homework for next week. Walking past the window, I see that I’m right. Emma is at the kitchen island with George next to her and Minnie on the opposite side. My heart starts beating faster at the thought of spending the day with my family—and apparently our new third child in my arms—and I find it almost shameful I have such excitement over it. Shouldn’t I have always been this excited? Or is it normal for things to just settle, and we take them for granted?

I shake that thought off of my mind. I had this important talk with my wife a couple of weeks ago about how we shouldn’t focus on the past. We’re both committed to repairing our marriage, and for it to work, we both know we must commit to living in the present. Because at the end of the day, the present is all we have.

I knock on the door and as planned, Emma will tell the kids to answer it.

In moments, it’s swinging open. I get a flash of Emma walking up behind our kids, but my eyes are pinned on them. They’re both in complete shock, eyes wide open staring at the puppy squirming in my arms.

Both stare at me mutely, frozen, as if they can’t believe that this is real.

Finally, I say, “surprise!”

Minnie’s gaze rises up to meet mine. “Is that ours?”

“This is ours,” I nod, laughing. But still, neither of them move forwards, so I goad them. “Come and get him?”

That’s all it takes for Minnie to scoop this little fella into her arms, pressing her nose into his head and murmuring little endearments. George scratches him and he reacts to their greetings by wiggling frantically and trying to lick both of my kids’ faces. They both laugh in a delighted way I’ve never quite heard before.

I look at my wife and see her tender smile as she watches our littles. I can tell she’s as charmed by it as I am. 

I walk inside because it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside and shut the door. “He just peed outside, but we need to keep a close eye on him. If he starts sniffing around or circling, that probably means he needs a wee. Scoop him up and take him out to the back. After he’s done with his thing, give him lots of praise and affirmation.”

“Got it,” Minnie says as she plops down on the living room floor with the pup. The puppy jumps around, and all three of them start to play.

“Now, what should we name him?” Emma asks.

“Droolius Caesar?” I joke.

Emma laughs. “Jimmy Chew?”

“Sarah Jessica Barker?” I continue. “Wait, no, it’s a boy. Franz Fur-dinand?”

“Sir Barks-a-Lot?”

“Deputy Dawg?”

“Bark Twain?”

We both laugh. We’re shite at this. The kids are too busy with the puppy to comment on our suggestions.

SpongeBob SquarePants is on the telly playing in the background. None of them are watching, but I see SpongeBob scratching his snail pet under the chin before he picks up said pet and says, “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

“Gary,” I say. The kids look at me and I point at the telly.

“That’s a ridiculous name for a dog,” Emma cackles. “But I like it.”

“That’s a human name?” Minnie’s brows knit slightly.

“I like it!” George exclaims, then proceeds to baby talk the pup who’s chewing on the end of Minnie’s braid. “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

We laugh.

“H,” Emma calls, and my gaze moves to her. She jerks her chin to the kitchen. “Help me set up the table? I’ve got a cold beer for you.”

Minnie and George still completely ignore us as we move into the kitchen. 

It would be natural for me to sit at the kitchen island while Emma gets the beer and checks on the supper, but the kids can see me from where they sit in the living room. So I follow my wife behind the island instead.

Before she can make it two steps, I move right into the back of her. Hands at her hips, I push her all the way forward until the counter catches her hips, then I dip to put my lips to her neck. 

Emma’s head falls back and she utters the tiniest of sighs, one arm looping back to go around the side of my head so she can thread her fingers in my hair. It’s an intimate embrace, but not one to provoke lust. Just a message that I missed her even though I saw her two days ago, and I love touching her in this gentle, loving way.

“The kids,” she murmurs. “They might see us.”

“Oh, the tragedy,” I whisper dryly. “Our children seeing  their parents hugging.”

Emma snickers and pulls away, glancing over her shoulder. “It would be shocking to them. And until we know for sure what we are and where we’re going, we need to keep them in the dark, remember? I don’t want them to get their hopes up.”

“You’re right,” I mumble in a low voice before moving to the island. I glance back at the living room and see the puppy on George’s back, trying to climb up. “No touching around the kids.”

She smiles and hands me a beer. She’s got one in her hand, and we tap bottles. She then moves to the oven, where she bends to take a peek through the window. Obviously, I stare at her arse as she does.

“It’s done,” she announces, opening the oven to pull the pan of shepherd’s pie.

“Need help with that?’ I ask, noting it looks like it probably weighs fifty pounds.

Twisting, she grins. “Sure. I made a double batch to send you home with some leftovers.”

That gets me. Not only she made one of my favourite meals, but she’s also sending me home with leftovers. I pop off the stool, round the island and take the two potholders she’s holding out to me.

After I carefully lift the pan from the oven, she shuts the oven door. I set it down on the two trivets she’s placed on the counter.

Bending over, I inhale the scent deeply. “Smells fantastic.”

Emma bumps her hip against me. “Well… you’ve been pretty amazing these last few weeks, so…”

I bump her hip back before sliding my hand around her waist. Bending my head, I murmur. “Admit it… it’s for the orgasms I gave you after the school run the other day.”

She chuckles with a sly smile. “Possibly.”

Leaning in closer, I touch my temple on the top of her head, lowering to a complete whisper. “You do know that I can give you that any day you want, right, Em? All you’ve got to do is ask.”

“Oh, I will,” she teases.

“What’s going on here?” Minnie says from behind us.

Emma and I jump apart as if we’d been electrocuted by each other. We spin to see Minnie standing there, with George next to her holding Gary in his arms. These two must have worn that pup out as he is still, watching us curiously.

Minnie’s expression, on the other hand, is condemning and suspicious.

“Nothing’s going on, poppet,” Emma says, her voice a little squeaky in panic. It’s adorable.

“Your mum and I were just talking,” I calmly explain.

“With your arm around her waist and whispering,” Minnie challenges. “Looks more like flirting to me.”

“Are you upset about it?” I challenge back. I knew she was upset when we separated and she struggled with it for a long time. 

Her brows knit together. “I’m just confused.”

Emma’s expression indicates she has no clue what to say. I can’t say I’m any more well equipped, but I’m going to take this one. I give my wife a subtle chin tilt, silently telling her I’ll handle this and relief evident in her eyes.

“Come on, you lot. Help me sort Gary’s stuff,” I say, herding them towards the garage. 

All three of them follow me into the garage, Gary still cosy in George’s arms. 

I immediately spot the stack of supplies, which includes a dog crate similar to mine, as well as bowls, a soft dog bed, food and toys. I pick up the soft bed towards the door that leads back into the house. Minnie turns to precede me, but I stop her. “Hang on there a second, poppet.”

When she pivots to face me her expression is guarded. “You asked about your mum and me. What do you want to know?”

“Were you two flirting with each other just now?” She demands. Crap. She’s nine. She’s not supposed to know that stuff. 

I can’t believe I get a little warm in the face at such a question, but I nod. I know it’s probably too soon to tell them but there’s no point in denying this. Both of my children are smart, and they deserve to know what’s going on. 

Her eyes narrow. “So are you… what… getting back together?”

“Does it mean you’re gonna live with us again, daddy?” George chirps.

“Not yet, nuggets. It’s not that simple.”

“It kind of is,” she replies. “You left for months. You didn’t even come during the summer. Then once she started dating Luke-”

“What’s dating?” George turns to his sister.

“It’s when you like someone and they like you back and you become boyfriend and girlfriend then you go out to eat together and do other stuff,” Minnie explains, then she continues. “Then once she started dating Luke, you’re suddenly coming around more often. And then she told me that Luke wouldn’t come over anymore and now you two are making googly eyes at each other.”

We lapse into silence for a moment. I need to think carefully about what to say next. George beats me. “I think I’m dating someone.”

“You what?” My eyes widen.

“Yeah. I asked Poppy in the playground to be my girlfriend the other day and she said yes. Then after we were done playing on the slides we got hungry so she shared her raisins with me. I also let her take a sip of my Ribena.”

I try hard not to break into laughter but Minnie doesn’t even crack a smile. 

“Okay… so here’s the thing. I was very upset. I know that was wrong of me to just leave without saying goodbye, and it was wrong of me for not visiting sooner. I needed time to let it go, and to accept what your mum wanted. But not once during that time did I not want to come back home. I’ve always wanted my family back.”

“Then what changed?” Minnie asks.

“Your mum and I spent some time apart because we both thought that was the best decision. But we were wrong. Because we realised that we didn’t want to be without each other. So now I’m trying to prove that I’ve changed. That I’m a better man, and I’m ready to be a better husband. The one your mum deserves.”

“See,” Minnie murmurs, her expression filled with confusion. George dips his head and rubs his cheek against Gary’s head, who seems to be on the verge of falling asleep. “I don’t get it. You and mum always seemed to get along great. You never argued. I never understood why you left.”

I move in close to my daughter and brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “A lot of that stuff is private between your mum and I, poppet.”

George asks. “But why can’t you just move in now, daddy?”

“It takes time, mate. Your mum and I need more time to sort ourselves out. But I promise you two that we’re trying our hardest here, okay? We need you both to be patient. Can you do that for us?”

They both nod in unison. Gary blinks twice.

“I can’t wait for us to be family again,” says Minnie.

Grinning, I bend to kiss her head. “Me too, poppet…”

***

Emma

“Gary! This way, Gary!”

Harry and I look at each other across this rather windy hilltop. The kids and Gary are exploring the neighbouring bushes and pathways as we perch ourselves on a rock nearby. We take in the view, the breeze biting at my cheeks.

My husband turns to me. “Tea? I put some whisky in it.”

“Hell, why not.”

Harry pours the tea out and we clink mugs. He brushes his thumb across my nose for no absolute reason. I was born and raised here, but this is something I’ll never tire of: these swooping hills and valleys, infinite skies and bracing breezes. As much as I loved London, I’m glad we’ve traded that life with this simpler one. There is no taxi nor Tube in sight but our kids are somehow a little bouncier and carefree. They’re happy here, and that’s all that matters. 

 “Ey up,” greets Harry at a group of people walking past us. They are obviously tourists as they have no way to respond and one of them is wearing bog standard Reebok Classics.

We hear the kids squeal in the distance and we both smile at each other. Getting that pup was probably one of our best decisions.  

“Do you remember when we first dated?” Asks my husband. “You brought me up here.”

I nod. “I do.”

“The view was decent,” he grins. 

“I know you’re not thinking about the view.”

“I was thinking about what happened when we got to the top of the meadow…”

“That was some decent shag,” I chuckle. “Nowadays, I’d worry about getting ticks on my unmentionables.”

We laugh.

I stare over at my husband taking in the view and sipping tea noisily. He always pauses for a moment on any walk to drink it all in. He rustles in his bag and gets a packet of biscuit out, opening the packaging awkwardly and offering it to me. 

“Did you know that you’re supposed to call it ‘niece’ and not ‘nice’? Apparently, they’re named after the French town.”

“That’s proper pub quiz trivia knowledge right there, Styles,” I tease.

We stay up here for a little while, but since it’ll get dark soon, we start our walk back to the car. The one thing you forget about taking kids up mountains (small hills) is that for all that experience of green space and fresh air, eventually, you will have to bring them down. Despite having an entire packet of biscuit (with a whole lot of why did you bring this one? This is rubbish. You could’ve brought hobnobs), we failed to remember to pack enough snacks and a fine drizzle is now scratching at our faces. It takes George much persuading to keep walking and by the time we return to the car, the sun is dipping behind the clouds and the twilight sits in the air. 

Harry decided it was fine to park in a deserted car park in the middle of nowhere to escape the throngs of regular walkers and tourists but strangely enough, when we get back there, we are one of six parked up.

“Come on, mate. Literally, just to the car. Like twenty more steps,” Harry begs our son to keep on walking. 

“You lied!” He complains. “You said that twenty steps ago.”

“I’ve got Haribo in the car.”

He progresses to a light canter. 

“Where did all these cars come from?” Harry asks as he approaches our motor cautiously.

“Maybe you’re not the only smart one here and people are following your lead.”

A car flashes us. 

I look around at all the cars. People are sat in them. What are they waiting for? You see this sometimes when waiting for the rain to pass or when people decide to eat their lunch in the car. 

Suddenly, I hear a car door open and a gentleman approaches us. His footsteps are low.

I know him. It’s Patrick. He’s our postman, so, yes, we have our very own Postman Pat. It was the first thing that tickled Harry when he found out years ago. And even better, the joke is not lost on Pat. His wife even got him a stuffed black and white cat for his cherry-red van window. I smile at recognising him, as do all of the occupants in our car.

“Emma, Harry, kids. Fancy seeing you here, of all places.”

“We’ve got a new dog and we were just taking him for a walk,” I inform him.

“Oh, lovely. What’s his name?”

“Gary,” the kids say in unison.

“Have you got a dog, Pat?” George asks him.

“No, my wife’s a cat lady. But funny you should mention dogs. This place here, people like to come here for that reason.”

“Gary seemed to like it,” pipes in Harry. “I think it’ll be his favourite.”

“That it is. People come here all the time for walking and with their dogs and other such endeavours.” His face looks slightly ashen at this point, his eyes darting towards the other cars. “And the other sense of the word… I just thought I would mention it as you have the littl’uns and it’s getting darker. I think someone just flashed his lights to warn you.”

Harry and I realise what he means exactly at the same time. “OH!” we say at the same gobsmacked volume. 

“Dogg…ing…” Harry mumbles. “We should-”

“Leave, like definitely leave, like now,” I say finishing his sentence.

The kids appear confused. I look around and shield my eyes. I should shield the children’s eyes. Pat’s wife waves from the passenger seat.

“Give our regards to June,” I say.

“Will do.”

He salutes us and returns to his car. The kids have all the questions. “People come here to look at dogs?” George asks. “Where are the dogs?”

“Get. In. The. Car.” Harry mouths very deliberately.

I slink into the passenger seat. Our eyes dart in different directions trying to divert focus from any of the cars ahead. We’ll be good if Harry doesn’t drive us off a cliff face. He turns on the wipers, the engine roars to a start and he pulls away slowly.

“We could have stayed and seen the dogs,” says George, a little despondently. “Gary would’ve loved to see his mates. Wouldn’t you, Gary?”

I throw a packet of Haribo at him. Harry and I are silent. We’ve just strolled our children and our very young dog into an outdoor sex hotspot. We are terrible parents. 

“Who fancies chips?” Harry says as he changes gear. He finds our littles in the rear-view mirror and studies their faces. “There’s a decent chippy down road.”

There’s a chorus of approval from the back seat. My husband smiles. He then moves his hand over from the gearstick to find mine, fingers interlocked, the sky glowing a thousand different colours.

***

“Are you calling my turkey dry?”

I look over at my older sister Suze in the corner of our family kitchen wondering where on earth she had the courage to come out with a comment like that. Even her husband stops washing up to absorb what his wife just said to our mother. I mean, you think it, but you just douse it in gravy and make do. Such is the joy of white chalky meat like turkey. Why do this now? Now she’ll harp on about the bacon she puts on the breasts and all the goose fat. But it’s Suze. She likes the challenge. I secretly think the only way she believes she can have a relationship with our mother is to spar with her regularly so they at least have one line of communication.

“It was a lovely dinner, Mum. Did you make the mince pies?” Suze winks at me.

I shake my head at her and bring the plate of mince pies through to the living room. Amidst my mother’s wreaths and tinsel wrapped around the lampshades, it’s a familiar tableau: Pop, my grandfather, asleep in the armchair in the corner, a holy green paper hat covering his eyes. Small children crawl on the floor and make angel shapes with their bodies amidst remnants of old glittery wrapping paper.  I hope Mum’s made a trifle. My other sister Meg and her husband snooze on a neighbouring sofa, catching on much needed sleep since they just had a baby four months ago and I still remember four months sleep regression is hell. I like this part of Christmas where bits of old crackers litter the floor and twilight takes over.

I take a mince pie and escape to the last vacant spot on the sofa. George rests his head on my knees. “What are you eating, mummy?” I look down at his bright green eyes and wonder how he can still be hungry as he must be ninety per cent roast potato at this point.

“A mince pie.”

“With cow mince?”

“No, like fruity bits,” I pick out said fruity bits and drop them into his mouth like a baby bird. He pulls a face, tasting it, and then walks away.

Harry smiles at me from the bottom of the Christmas tree. He’s laying down on the floor with one of my nieces. He’s always been great with kids, long even before we have our own. My niece has her palm out, and Harry runs circles in it as he sings, “round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…”

She smiles and laughs, poising her fingers, ready to bounce. 

“One step, two-step, tickle me under there,” he pretends to collapse into giggles and my niece’s little face broadens into laughter before she rolls over and walks away to play with her cousins.

Finishing my last bite of the tiny pie, I roll under the tree to join my husband. He looks at me as I cosy up next to him, the lights reflect off his eyes.

My mother likes a real tree for Christmas. It’s the smell, you can’t beat the smell. I like to think you can get that real pine smell from a good supermarket brand toilet cleaner but I don’t say that out loud for fear of incurring her festive wrath. And so there’s always a real tree and like we endured when my siblings and I were teens, there’s still a daily rota of vacuuming up the needles as we watch that bastard go crusty and brown as it’s shoved up against the radiator. 

We lay there in silence, looking up at the branches and my mother’s multicoloured lights twinkling in some erratic fashion that my eyes can’t quite handle. I’ve been to raves that were less of an assault on the senses. It’s an overwhelming memory of our childhood, lying in silence wigging out on mum’s trippy disco lights, absorbing the magic of the season. 

“You’re drunk aren’t you, tipsy-tits?”

“You were the one who poured double shots of Baileys in our coffees this morning,” I cackle.

“That’s called Christmas milk.” 

“What are you doing here?” Minnie asks, her head nestling into my shoulder. I rake pine needles from her head.

“Nothing…” Harry replies. “Where’s yer brother?”

“Here,” George suddenly appears, rolling under the tree next to his dad to join us.

“Looks like the awesome foursome is back, huh?” Harry grins.

Minnie and George hum in agreement. I can see my babies smiling. 

It’s time.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” 

I take a deep breath. “Will you come back home with us?”

-

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[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Got no shame [Oliver Wood x Reader] - Challenge

Title: Got no shame Pairing: Oliver Wood x Female!Reader Word count: 2.5k Published: 27 May, 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: [x] Being the daughter of the coach of Puddlemere United gives you the opportunity to get close to the players, some even more than others. When Oliver gets injured, you don’t even care about being friends or less or more, you just need to know if he is okay. Challenge: [x] [x] This is part of @iliveiloveiwrite 's writing challenge

Song inspiration: No shame by 5 Seconds of Summer

Bingo: [x] [x] This is part of my Band--Psychos 1.5k Followers Bingo Card by @band--psycho and my Make me feel Bingo Card by @girl-next-door-writes​​

Square filled: Rain [ @band--psycho ]

Square filled: Temporary amnesia [ @girl-next-door-writes ]

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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You have always been a big fan of quidditch, but unfortunately your abilities were never enough to become a professional. Luckily however, your father was the coach of the Puddlemere quidditch team. It was a daily occurrence for you to appear on their practice, overtime even becoming friends with some of the team members.

Benjy, the seeker of the team and Jocelind, one of the chasers quickly grew fond of you. Although your friendship started off on a rocky road. The two of them had a mission to tease you about their keeper, Oliver Wood’s crush on you. They thought his tries to catch your attention would be obvious to everyone, but it seemed you were the only one who couldn’t see it. Benjy and Jo made it their duty to remind you every single day how badly Oliver had fallen for you. Just like on that particular day, before one of their most important matches.

“Can you just stop?” You exhaled, pleading with the pair, the same subject repeating itself daily. Falling back onto one of the benches of the changing room, you heaved a heavy sigh, tired of their constant nagging.

“Sure, will you accept that Wood has a crush on you?” Benjy asked, teasingly wiggling his brows as he took a seat beside you, nudging your shoulder playfully.

“No! I will not! When he joined the team, he was this shy little boy, trying to adjust. He always talked to me, he always came to me for advice. If back then you said he had a crush on me, I might have believed you. But since then, he has become popular, girls and boys falling on their knees in front of him. I just can’t see it and I doubt out of all his choices I would be a contender,” you explained, sighing deeply.

“For Merlin’s sake,” Jo exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air, “each time he gives an autograph he is looking for your eyes, hoping for you to notice him. When the papers are taking photos of us, he looks like a meerkat trying to get your attention. How dumb can you be, woman?” She groaned as she folded her arms in front of her chest, shaking her head disapprovingly.

“You have had a crush on him for years, do something already,” Benjy added quickly before you could have replied. “Wood is my friend and I know him, he is mad for you.”

“Guys, please,” you pleaded, wanting to close the subject finally. “I would like nothing more than to believe you, but there’s no way Wood—,” before you could have continued, the entrance door of the changing room opened, a tall figure entering, his head covered under a hoodie, his clothes soaked, raindrops dripping to the floor.

“Oh, hi,” he lifted his head, revealing his identity. Pushing back his hoodie, you caught his dark eyes as he ran his hand across his short-cut, brown hair, his mere presence causing your cheeks to warm up. “You are early,” he added as none of you replied.

“Yeah, wanted to beat some sense into this woman,” Jo replied with a groan, clearly still annoyed by your blindness for Oliver’s feelings.

“Maybe I should beat some into you,” huffing, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, turning away from your friend’s gaze.

“Okay, why don’t we just take a deep breath and calm down?” Benjy interrupted.

“You clearly have something to discuss, should I leave?” Oliver asked as he looked around the three of you with a confused expression painted across his handsome face.

“Yes,” Jo replied, but you couldn’t handle another lecture.

“No,” you added, wanting to just stop them from nagging you any further.

“Well, that was helpful,” Oliver scoffed, trying to stop the little smirk from appearing in the corner of his lips. “So, which is it then?”

“No, because if you stay, it means they will quiet down finally and I need them to stop nagging me,” you replied as you stood up from the bench and headed towards the door. “Instead of getting on my nerves, you should start getting ready for the match,” you huffed in annoyance.

“As far as I’m concerned your father is our coach, not you,” Jo replied with gritted teeth.

“Indeed. But guess what, he would say the same,” you offered her a smug grin as you stepped out of the changing room, loudly shutting the door behind yourself.

As you headed to your father’s office, you heard loud footsteps following you. Turning around, you saw Oliver run after you, his clothes still drenched in water, but it didn’t stop him from coming after you. A soft smile appeared on your face as you patiently waited for him.

“Are you doing ground exercises?” You asked playfully as the boy finally halted beside you, trying to adjust his breathing.

“Very funny,” he scoffed, but you caught a tiny smile appearing in the corner of his lips. “I couldn’t stand the mood in the changing room. I have no idea what you have done, but Jo is quite pissed off,” he added, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“Did they tell you what we argued about?” You asked, panic settling deep inside you as you realised Oliver might just know of your crush on him.

“Nah, they didn’t say anything, other than that you are being stubborn and blind for whatever reason,” he furrowed, the words without context making no sense to him.

“So, I’ve heard,” you grimaced as you started walking towards your father’s office once again.

“Wait, can I ask you what the argument was about?” He reached for your arm, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. You turned back to look at him over your shoulder, his eyes holding curiosity.

“The person I like,” you replied, hoping for some sort of reaction from him.

“O— oh,” he breathed, somewhat disappointed as he let go of your wrist. The way he acted was certainly not what you expected and for a mere second you could see what Jo and Benjy were talking about. But a reasonable part of your brain quickly adjusted and decided to send you signals that reassured you it was probably just an involuntary reaction with no meaning behind it.

“Anyways, I will go and see my father. Maybe you should get ready,” you offered him a soft smile as you patted his shoulder and wished him good luck for the game.

As the match started, the rain was still pouring heavily, a batch of lightning struck on the ground, the players barely able to avoid them in time. You hid under your soaked hoodie as you cheered for the team, but deep down your stomach was in a knot, hoping for everyone to leave the game unscraped.

“Come on, Wood!” You shouted as the opponent flew towards his hoops, but luckily, he kicked the quaffle out of the way. His eyes looked for you for a good few seconds, before he caught sight of you and offered you a cheerful grin that you couldn’t stop from mirroring.

The match was rather aggressive, and the weather didn’t help the situation. Whilst you watched your friends fly around the pitch, their blue and yellow cloak following them in their route, a nervous feeling settled in you as a heavy rumble shook the area.

You stood up from the spectator stand and started heading down the stairs, wanting to feel closer to your friends. However, as you looked up, the next thing you saw was a blinding lighting that struck straight into the ground, sending none other than Oliver Wood off his position straight into the wall of the spectator stand across the pitch. A loud scream left your lungs, your heart beating in a dangerous pace as you watched his unconscious body fall towards the ground before someone slowed him down mid-air. Looking down at the benches, you saw your father with his wand in his hand pointing towards Oliver’s limp body, slowly placing him down on the fake grass.

As you started running down the stairs, you never felt more determined. You needed to see him, feel his pulse, check his body for injuries. It was driving you crazy how slowly your body moved before you finally caught sight of him surrounded by a couple of healers as they placed him on a stretcher. Almost feeling him in your grasp, you started running towards the injured boy, but before you could have caught up with the healers, two arms wrapped around you, pulling you back against a strong chest.

“He is going to be okay,” you heard your father’s voice, trying to sooth your worries away.

“Let me see him. Please, dad,” you replied, your voice weak and shaky. He turned you around and pulled you into a fatherly hug, just like the ones you received when you were little. As you finally started calming down, he leaned back and cupped your cheeks, removing the tear stains from your face that you didn’t even realise you had under the heavy rain.

“The healers will help him, but they will not let you in just yet, so take a deep breath, sit down with me on the bench and as soon as they signal for me, I will let you go. Sounds like a good plan?” He asked, hoping you would be able to think reasonably. After a heavy sigh you nodded, knowing that you couldn’t possibly do anything for him. You headed back towards the benches with your father and as they blew the whistle again, you listened to the game, but your mind was somewhere else, to be exact on the boy that the healers rushed away from you before you could even check on him.

It felt like eternity before your father placed a hand on your shoulder and nodded towards the exit of the pitch. Without a word or a thankful look, you started running after the healer that stood at the gate. When you arrived you greeted him and followed him diligently to the medical wing. The path felt like you’ve been walking for hours, even though it was only a couple of minutes. You were impatient, you wanted to see Oliver for yourself, making sure he was okay.

As you reached the medical wing and the large wooden doors opened, your eyes frantically searching for Oliver. As you caught his figure at the back of the room, you rushed up to him and sat down on the small stool beside his bed and took his hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly. Although it was you who needed to be reassured that he was alright. His eyes started slowly flattering before he finally opened them, looking around the room in confusion, groaning as he turned his head.

“Stay put, Wood,” you instructed him as you pulled your stool closer. “How are you feeling? Are you in a lot of pain?” You bombarded him with questions.

“I’m fine. My head and my back hurts, but I’m okay,” a small smile spread across his face as he squeezed your hand.

“You scared me,” you scolded him as you slapped the back of his hand gently, making him chuckle lightly.

“I didn’t mean to,” he replied with an innocent expression, but a hidden smile in the corner of his lips. “What happened exactly? I’m kind of blurry on the details.”

“A lightning struck beside you and it sent you straight into one of the spectator walls. When you started falling dad slowed you down to stop you from getting any further injuries,” you explained with a deep frown across your brows and concern lacing your eyes. “It was horrible,” you added with a shaky breath as you played with his hand in yours.

“Hey,” he called out to you in a soft tone, lifting his other hand to cup your cheek. “I’m perfectly fine, just a few little bruises,” he tried to reassure you, but your worry was still clear across your face. “Hey, did I ever tell you that I love the way you're screaming my name?” He chuckled softly as you felt your face burn under his intense gaze. He knew he needed to avert your attention, wanting to sooth your worries.

“What?” You asked, stunned.

“The last thing I remember is your loud cheer as you screamed my name,” he smirked proudly, enjoying as you played with his hand in your embarrassed state.

“I cheer for everyone,” you added in a silent tone, trying to avert his suspicions.

“I wish you would cheer only for me,” he sighed as he looked away from you, his gaze now fixed on the ceiling. A confused expression sat across your face as you lifted your gaze and looked at him.

“What do you mean?” You asked, completely baffled by his reply. For a single moment you believed he meant more than he let on, but a reasonable part of your brain quickly shooed those thoughts away.

“I meant what I said,” he replied nonchalantly.

“I can’t just cheer for you. I have to cheer for the whole team so we can all win,” you explained with a confused frown across your brows.

“I know. And I know it’s wrong of me, but it makes me jealous,” he spoke with a soft grimace, earning a surprised gasp from you. “I honestly don’t know what else to do to get your attention. At this point I just got no shame. I shamelessly try to catch your eyes, but every time I feel like you are looking at me, you go and distance yourself,” he scoffed. Heaving a heavy sigh, he turned back to you. “Do you think you could ever look at me like a man and not someone who is part of your father’s quidditch team or a simple friend? Do you think you would be able to like me at one point?” He asked, his eyes desperately searching for confirmation, starting your heart off in a quick pace.

A tiny smile started spreading across your face before it grew into a large grin and a loud laughter erupted from your lungs, throwing your head back in the process. Oliver sat beside you, having mixed feelings about your reaction. “You fool,” you chuckled as your laughter started dying down. “You dumb man” you continued shaking your head as you stood up from your stool and leaned above his bed, cupping his face. “How could I not look at you as a man when I already do?” You giggled happily as you closed the gap between the two of you, capturing his lips with yours. For a moment both of you forgot where you were, you just enjoyed being closer to each other, before a healer appeared and loudly scolded you for your behaviour, forcing you to part as though you were still children.

“Well, that’s certainly not what I expected,” he chuckled playfully. “A couple more of these and I will feel brand new,” he grinned.

“I guess you will have to wait for that otherwise the healers will kick me out,” you giggled in content.

“Not happening,” he shook his head as he grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him, attaching his lips to yours halfway, earning a shaky moan from you. Luckily this time the healers didn’t catch you and within a couple of hours you were helping Oliver getting back to his flat.

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[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

irritating you, irritating me

summary: you don’t like your neighbor Anthony, but it leads to more than one awkward encounter.

warnings: like one swear, mentions of drinking

word count: 5.4k

note from the writer: this is unedited and I wrote most of the last part on my phone so I apologize but enjoy! / take my survey!

ONE

The first time you met Anthony Beauvillier, you were certain you could go the rest of your life never seeing him again.

It was late, past midnight after a long and stressful day of moving into your new apartment. So when music started loudly playing from the unit across the hall, it took only fifteen minutes of you waiting to see if they were going to stop before you were tugging on a sweatshirt over your pajamas. Your mind hadn’t caught up to your actions before you knocked on your obnoxious neighbor’s door.

A brief moment of panic overtook you as you realized you had no idea who you were about to complain too, but it was too late to back out as the door swung open. If you had been a little more awake and a lot less annoyed, you would have catalogued just how attractive the guy standing in the doorway was. Bright blue eyes, tousled brown hair, and a grin that usually would have made you swoon.

He was trouble, that was for sure.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked, a lightness to his tone as if you were an old friend and not someone he’d never met knocking on his door close to one in the morning. Hearing someone laugh in his apartment over the loud music, you remembered your reason for coming over—and it wasn’t to drool over the way his sweatshirt pulled across his broad shoulders. Before you could come up with a sentence, he was speaking again. “You’re my new neighbor, right? You just moved in today. I’m Anthony.”

“Y/N.” You told him shortly, crossing your arms over your chest. He raised a curious brow at your response, but didn’t comment further on it.

“So…” He trailed off, his gaze darting from you, to your apartment door behind you before he shot a look back into his apartment. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Could you turn your music down? It’s keeping me up.” You told him, a little harsher than probably necessary, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. He had to have known his music was way too loud, and if he just had no regard for his neighbors then you were going to have a hard time getting along with him.

“Yeah, of—”

“It’s a party! We’re celebrating!” Another boy joined the conversation, swinging an arm around Anthony’s shoulders. You raised an unimpressed brow at the new boy, who had a beer bottle clasped in his hand.

“And I’m trying to sleep.” You replied, voice void of any humor. Anthony shrugged the guy off his arm and told him to go back inside, while you waited impatiently. Your frown seemed permanent, but Anthony met it head on with a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry about Mat, he’s just excited about the win.” He apologized, though you had no idea what he was talking about. Exhaustion was taking over you, and the longer you stayed out in front of Anthony’s apartment the more your contempt for him grew.

“Can you please just try and keep it down?” You pleaded, dragging a hand down your face. You didn’t care about why they were being so loud, you just wanted them to stop.

“I’ll try, but the guys might fight me on it.” He tried to joke, an easy smile on his face as he leaned against his doorframe. Apparently, he found something about this amusing. You, on the other hand, decided then and there that your new neighbor was not going to be one of your friends.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” You rolled your eyes, giving up on trying to convince him. Without another word, you turned around, fully prepared to head back into your own apartment and deal with whatever choice Anthony decided to make, regarding his music volume.

“It was nice meeting you.” Anthony called just as you opened your door. You weren’t sure if he was being smug or not, his eyes were kind but the entire interaction hadn’t exactly been nice. Somehow, you were leaving his apartment more annoyed than you had been when you arrived.

“Yeah, I guess.” You huffed, shutting the door on him after flashing what was possibly the world’s fakest smile. In the split second you had to gauge his reaction before the wood door obstructed your view, he seemed to be taking it in stride.

He turned the music down. You could still hear it from your bedroom.

TWO

The next time you ran into Anthony, it was nearly two weeks later.

Run-in was a good way to describe it, considering he completely barrelled into you outside your favorite coffee shop three blocks from your apartment. You had tried to dodge him, you really did, but you weren’t quick enough and he wasn’t paying attention, and mixture of the two meant your drink spilled all down your front.

“Oh, my god!” You exclaimed, inspecting the damage down to your shirt. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of your favorites, but you most likely wouldn’t be able to wear it again. Anthony let out a string of curses in what sounded like French, and you shot him a glare that was met with a look of realization.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” You huffed, retreating into the shop in search of napkins. You knew there was no hope in trying to save your shirt, but you at least wanted to not be dripping in coffee as you raced home to change before heading to work. Thankfully, you had an unusual head start on the day and most likely wouldn’t be late.

“Not like that, I mean. It’s you, my neighbor, not in our building.” Anthony hurried to correct himself. You rolled your eyes, reaching around him to toss your now empty cup in the trash.

“I do go out in public, you know.” Your comment was meant sarcastically, delivered with a little bite, but instead of being offended Anthony laughed. You paused dabbing the napkin against your coffee-stain to give him a confused look, not sure why he took your comment in stride.

“Can I buy you a new coffee? It’s the least I can do.” He offered, but you quickly shook your head. There was a line to the door and you knew you wouldn’t be able to wait for it, and the last thing you wanted to was wait around with Anthony, your neighbor you didn’t exactly like.

“I’ve got to go home and change, but thanks, I guess.” You told him, giving up on the coffee stain and tossing your napkins away. He frowned, then, and you wondered if he was used to being able to pick up anyone with his good looks.

Not that you wanted to find him attractive, of course. He was your annoying neighbor. But still, two things could be true. He could be your attractive, annoying neighbor that played music way too loud and spilled your coffee on you.

“Yeah, no problem.” He continued, recovering quickly and replacing his frown with a smile that would have made your heart skip and beat if you had gotten off on the right foot with him. “See you around?”

“Probably.” You shrugged. He did live across the hall from you, but you weren’t going to actively seek him out to hang out. That simply wasn’t in the cards for you and him, sometimes people just didn’t get along. You made a move as if to leave, but Anthony’s voice was calling out after you and, surprisingly, you stopped.

“I really am sorry, you know.” He told you, and something akin to a smile found its way onto your face before you could stop it. Your response wasn’t as snarky as your previous comments had been, but you left him with one finally comment before slipping out of the coffee shop and into the busy sidewalk.

“Tell that to my shirt, Anthony.”

That night, too late for visitors but too early for you to be asleep yet, there was a knock on your door. Pausing your show, you got up from the comfort of your blanket-covered couch and made your way to the door. Looking through the peephole, you didn’t see anyone standing outside. Curiosity got the better of you, and warily you opened the door and poked your head out into the hallway.

It was empty, save for the pile of fabric and drink sitting neatly in front of your door. There was a note on top, and you picked it up first, reading the scratchy handwriting that you had a sneaking suspicion belonged to the boy across the hall.

Tell your shirt I said sorry.

The fabric, upon closer inspection, was a slightly too-large New York Islanders t-shirt, with the name Beauvillier scrawled across the back and the number eighteen on the sleeve. Anthony had gotten you a new shirt, and even though you knew nothing about hockey and it was nothing like the one that had gotten ruined you still appreciated the gesture.

You picked up the cup next, recognizing the logo as the one belonging to the coffee shop you had been at earlier in the day. It was hot chocolate, not coffee, and you were thankful that he had the foresight to not get you caffeine so late at night.

“Thanks, Anthony.” You said, a little loudly in case he was watching you through his peephole. You turned to head back inside with your new shirt and hot drink when he replied, still inside his apartment but clearly by the door.

“My friends call me Tito.” You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes and the tiny grin that made its way onto your face. Thankfully, your back was to his door and without looking you called out to him one last time before slipping fully into your apartment.

“Goodnight, Anthony.”

Because just because he got you a new shirt, it didn’t mean you liked him any better.

THREE

There weren’t many things you regretted, having grown up with the mantra of being true to yourself and being kind. But you did have one regret, and it was coming back to bite you. And that was not looking up who exactly Beauvillier was on the Islanders team the moment you got the shirt.

Because if you had, there was absolutely no way you would have agreed to a third date with Max in finance that had ice level seats to the Islanders vs. Hurricanes game.

“Have you ever been to a hockey game?” Max asked, his arm slung over the back of your seat as you waited for the players to come out for warmups. You shook your head at his question, certain that you had already told him three times that you had never been to a game. You were pretty sure that he couldn’t hear a single word you said over his own ego. “I’ll make sure you get you a souvenir from your first game.”

“Okay.” You nodded, pretending that you were distracted by the huge crowd in the arena. Him getting you a souvenir sounded a little too much like you were a kid. Something in a crowd changed, voices louder as the music switched from top pop hits to pump up music and Max jostled you with his arm around your shoulders to get your attention.

“They’re coming out for warmups.” He explained just as the first player came racing out of the tunnel, knocking a stack of pucks onto the ice. You watched, mesmerized, as the players raced around in circles for a few laps seamlessly, before picking up pucks to run some quick drills and shoot on the net.

It was all going smoothly, until your gaze fell on number eighteen out of curiosity. His back was to you, and you were easily able to read Beauvillier emblazoned across the back. Something about him seemed familiar, and it was only when he turned around that you realized why.

Beauvillier was Anthony. Beauvillier was your neighbor. Your neighbor, who you had yet to have a decent interaction with, was a professional athlete.

And you were currently on a date where you’d have to watch him play.

With your luck, he noticed you then, grin making its way onto his face as he looked up and met your gaze. It wasn’t a smug grin, but a genuine one, and just as he raised his hand to wave at you, another player purposefully knocked into his shoulder since he was distracted. If your memory served you right, it was Mat, the one that convinced Anthony to not turn the music down that very first night.

“What was that?” Max asked, and you tore your gaze from the ice to look at him with a confused expression. “Do you know Beauvillier?”

“He lives across the hall from me.” You explained, trying to sound as nonchalant about it as possible. It really wasn’t a big deal for you, that a pro athlete was your neighbor, but didn’t have the best relationship with him, and didn’t exactly feel like talking about him on your date. “I’ve talked to him like twice—”

You started to explain, but a crash against the glass in front of you tore your attention away from Max with a jump. You turned, having not even noticed Anthony had skated over and thrown his body against the glass to get your attention. He looked proud of himself, and was grinning at you without acknowledging Max.

You gave Anthony a curious and annoyed look as he pointed at you, then began to juggle a puck around on his stick, clearly showing off. It was impressive, you had to admit, but with each movement you could practically feel Max getting more and more annoyed. Finally, Anthony tossed the puck up and over the glass. Instinctively, you caught the rubber disk, and Anthony shot you a wink that was met with a roll of your eyes.

“Here, you guys can have this.” You smiled at the group of young kids wearing Islanders jerseys that had come down the glass for warmups. The little girl that you handed the puck to smiled brightly at you before running off excitedly to show her parents what she had gotten. They mouthed a thank you, and you waved them off with a grin. You turned back to the ice, flushing when you realized that Anthony was still looking at you. He didn’t look annoyed at you for giving away his puck, but instead was regarding you with a smile too soft for someone you barely considered an acquaintance. You gave him a pointed look, because that was easier to do than acknowledge the way your face warmed under his gaze, and he shook his head softly while still smiling. Civilly, he nodded to Max before retreating back with his teammates.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re just friends.” Max commented dryly, glaring daggers at the back of Anthony’s head as he skated away to finish warmups. You rolled your eyes, not bothering to acknowledge his childishness.

You watched the game with a renewed interest, cheering probably louder than you would have if you hadn’t realized that your neighbor was on the team. Besides, you had to entertain yourself somehow, as Max was giving you the cold shoulder ever since your interaction with Anthony. The Islanders pulled out a win, and you were riding a high up until Max dropped you off at your apartment.

“I don’t think this is going to work out.”

You looked at Max dumbly, a little hurt and waiting for an explanation. It wasn’t the end of the world for you, it was only the third date and he was a bit too stuck up for your taste, but it still sucked to be dumped.

“I just can’t compete with Beauvillier. I mean, he’s a pro athlete.”

And then he was gone, and you were left wondering just when you gave off the impression that there was any competition between him and Anthony.

The stupid puck, you cursed in the elevator up to your floor, because Max didn’t even bother walking you all the way to your door. He dumped you in his car in front of your building; how romantic.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened just as your frown deepened and eyes began to water. You were upset, not necessarily because you thought you had a future with Max but because Anthony’s stupid showing off ruined any chance you had. And just your luck, Anthony was at his door, unlocking it.

“Hey—” He started, way too chipper for the sour mood you were currently in.

“Thanks for that tonight, really.” You snapped, digging your keys out of your pocket as your tears blurred your vision. Your back was to Anthony, but you could feel his gaze on you. It was clear that he saw your upset expression, and you wished with everything you had that you had been able to wait until you were in the safety of your own apartment to start crying.

“What’s wrong?” He was at your side in your instant, but at the moment you didn’t want his sympathy. While deep down you knew that Max’s own insecurities were the reason that he ended things, but Anthony was the catalyst and you were projecting your anger onto him.

“Max ended things with me because you couldn’t help yourself.” You whipped your head to face him, too distraught to care that the keys had slipped from your shaky fingers. You held Anthony’s gaze, noting momentarily how dumbstruck and concerned he looks, before cursing to yourself and ducking down to pick up your keys.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He stammered out. You took a centering breath, and finally got your apartment unlocked. You wheeled around to face Anthony one last time, only to find he was still watching you curiously.

“Forget it.” And then because you couldn’t possibly look any more pathetic, you sniffled and swiped at the tears on your cheeks.

“I—”

“Forget it!” You interrupted a little louder, ducking into your apartment and swiftly shutting the door behind you. It’s not that you wanted to be mad at Anthony, you were just upset and he was the closest thing to being actually upset at Max.

Still, you didn’t see yourself ever getting along with him.

FOUR

It was two weeks later when you finally saw Anthony again. And, to know one’s surprise, his appearance put you in a sour mood.

To be fair, it was well past one in the morning when the knocking on your door started.

Part of you knew exactly who it was the moment you crawled out of bed. You hadn’t been asleep, with the next day being an obligation-free Saturday you had let yourself stay up late to watch a few extra episodes of your favorite show. Still, you were grumbling as you pulled a sweatshirt over your sleep shirt and shorts as you made your way to the door.

You looked through the peephole to confirm your suspicions, and with a roll of your eyes you swung the door open and gave the two men on the opposite side an unimpressed look.

“What?” You prompted, cataloging the smell of beer and the fact that Mat was leaning heavily on Anthony for support. The former was definitely drunk, and from the looks of it a few moments away from passing out.

“I locked myself out.” Anthony told you, as if that was a complete explanation. “And I can’t get a hold of the landlord.”

“And you’re knocking on my door because...?” You trailed off expectantly. You knew you sounded mean, but that wasn’t your entire intention. It was late, you were tired, and you weren’t the biggest fan of Anthony.

“Can we just come in and wait until I can get into my place?” Anthony finally asked. You considered saying no, a large part of you wanted to, but you knew that if the roles were reversed you’d want him to take pity on you. So, you simply sighed and retreated into your apartment, leaving the door open for Anthony to lead Mat into.

“He’s not going to throw up on my stuff, is he?” You questioned as Anthony dropped Mat onto your couch, the dark haired hockey player giggling as he landed on his side. You figured he had seconds before it was lights out, and needed to know if you had to dig out the puke bucket—a remnant of your wilder years in college.

“He should be fine.” Anthony waved it off, and you nodded slowly before sitting in one of the two armchairs you had gotten for your living room. Anthony sat in the other, located across the room with what felt like a thousand miles, but was just really Mat snoring, separating you.

You nodded and, because you couldn’t handle the awkward silence in the room that followed, pulled out your phone to check all your socials to pass the time. You had already checked your instagram feed, replied to a few snapchats, and was in the middle of crafting a text to your best friend explaining that your annoying neighbor was in your living room when Anthony cleared his throat and you looked up to meet his gaze.

“What did I do to make you so annoyed at me?” He asked, a genuine curiosity in his eyes that had you clicking off your phone and dropping it into your lap.

“How many people can you name that’d be happy with someone knocking on their door past one in the morning with a drunk guy begging to be let in?” You replied, a lack of hostility in your tone that surprised even you.

“I would have texted, but you haven’t given me your number.” It wasn’t for lack of trying, he had asked you for your number on more than one occasion. Everytime you shot him down; it was like a game you had been playing with him and would be playing until the end of time.

“I only give my phone number to friends.” Your response came quickly, and you were surprised to see a glimmer of amusement cross his face.

“Aren’t we friends?” He challenged and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“We’ve had like three total conversations before this, and you just brought over a drunk hockey player to crash on my couch.” You replied easily, the beginnings of a grin toying with the corners of your lips. “Is that how all your friendships are?”

“Only the fun ones.” He was fully grinning now, and you shook your head in a bid to hide your own smile. Silence fell over you and Anthony once more, except this time it wasn’t as tense and you didn’t feel the need to mindlessly scroll through your phone to escape it. Instead, you were openly taking in Anthony’s appearance. Clearly, from the state Mat was in, you had assumed they had been out drinking. But Anthony was dressed nicely, a button up with a few of the top buttons undone in a carelessly attractive way. You could see his chain from where you were sitting, and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t look extremely good.

Usually, you’d be embarrassed at openly checking him out. Except, he was clearly doing the same thing to you.

“Hey,” Anthony started, breaking you out of your trance and earning a questioning look from you. “Can we start over? I’m Anthony Beauvillier.”

You hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your grin. But it only took you a moment to agree to his request, and you gave him your name in the cheesy way he started.

“It’s nice to meet you, Anthony.” You teased, heart beating just a little bit quicker at his triumphant grin. You broke his gaze and looked to Mat, who you were pretty sure was drooling into your cushions, to distract yourself.

“My friends call me Tito.” He tried, mirroring what he said all those weeks prior when he had bought you the t-shirt. The t-shirt that had been sitting, folded up, at the bottom of the drawer. You smiled, a real and genuine smile as you looked back to him.

“Tito, then.”

PLUS ONE

From that night on, your friendship with Anthony only grew. Dinners at the other’s apartments, nights out with his teammates, and the occasional brunch where he had just gotten back from a road trip the night before and you were hungover from a girls night. He was slowly becoming a steady presence in your life and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

Of course, you were thankful that you didn’t have to fight with him all the time. But you weren’t entirely ready to deal with the feeling that was quite the opposite of hatred that you felt for him.

You were falling for your annoying neighbor. And fast.

Of course, with playoffs, it meant you saw Anthony less and less. You watched each game religiously, even canceling on a few plans with some friends to stay in and support him from your couch. But you can’t win every year, and the Islanders’ season ended way too early.

You waited up probably much too late the next night for his flight to arrive back in New York, and made him text you when he got home.

My door is unlocked.

His simple text was all it took for you to anxiously jump off your couch and cross the hall. He was true to his word, and you slipped into his apartment quickly. His shoes were in the doorway and his keys were discarded on the counter.

It was only seconds later when Anthony emerged from his bedroom, having changed into a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He looked a little tired, and a lot defeated, and when the words to help lift his mood failed you, you crossed the room and fell into his open arms.

“I missed you.” You mumbled, deciding that was safer than bringing up the failed cup run. You were in uncharted territory, never having once to deal with someone who had just gotten knocked out of the playoffs.

“Stay with me a little longer tonight?” He hummed in response, his arms tightening around you the moment he felt like you were going to pull back. If there wasn’t such a heaviness around you then, you would have chuckled at his eagerness, but you nodded quietly and obliged him for a longer hug. Finally, he pulled back, but didn’t let you get far before as he latched onto your hand and led you into his living room and onto his couch. “Did you watch the game?”

“Yeah, you guys played well.” You tried complimenting him, but he only shook his head like he didn’t believe you.

“Not good enough, apparently.” He murmured, and you reached out to place a hand on his knee for comfort.

“You can’t think like that.” You told him softly, and he pursed his lips, covering your hand with his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Sorry, I’m being annoying about this.” In an unfamiliar bout of insecurity, he laughed humorlessly.

“You’re not annoying me.” You shook your head. This was something important to him, he was allowed to be upset about being knocked from the playoffs.

“Well, that’s a first.” He cracked a grin, a sign that his mood was changing. You pushed away the thought that you had an effect on him, not wanting to get your hopes up too much.

“Shut up.” You chuckled, knowing he was referring to the rocky start of your friendship with him. Though, he was welcome to tease you all night if it meant he was smiling again.

“Might have to go tell Mat, he won’t believe that you said that.” He mused, and you swatted at his shoulder playfully. In the course of your friendship with Anthony, you had also gotten to know Mat better, and he thought it was the funniest thing that you didn’t get along with Anthony for months.

“Okay, now you’re annoying me.” You grinned, watching with glee as Anthony rolled his eyes playfully. His gaze seemed to catch on something then, one of his fingers extending to tug at the fabric of your shirt.

“You’re wearing the shirt.” He commented, sounding a little dumbstruck. You had to look down to see what he was referencing, seeing that you had the Beauvillier t-shirt he gave you from way back when on.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You questioned honestly. You wore it often, the fabric was soft and it was a little oversized, which meant it was perfect to lay around in. Certainly, he had to have seen you in it already.

“I don’t know, I just thought you would have thrown it out. Considering how much you hated me when I bought it.” You didn’t reply, simply rolling your eyes playfully at him. He certainly wasn’t going to let that go anytime soon.

“I like the beard.” You changed the topic, offhandedly complimenting the facial hair that had grown in during his push for the cup.

“Je vous aime bien.” He replied, a blush on his cheeks. You furrowed your brows in confusion, not sure what he said. But with the look in his eyes and the redness creeping up his neck told you it was something you needed to know.

“What?” You asked dumbly. He spoke French around you often, mostly quick phrases and teasing comments, but this seemed like so much more.

“I… like you.” He confessed the absolute last thing you thought would. Your heart rate skyrocketed, brows shooting up and mouth parting in shock.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” He questioned, nerves evident in his tone and the way he slumped his shoulders and pulled back from you.

Oh was about how you felt. It wasn’t a bad oh, far from it, but you were confused about your own feelings. Because you did have feelings for him, that was for sure, but you had spent so much the beginning of your relationship with him not liking him at all.

“Forget I said anything, if you want to go then I under—”

“Fuck it.” You muttered, more to yourself than anything, before pushing yourself towards Anthony and wrapping one hand around the back of his neck to keep him in place as you connected your lips in a kiss.

He wasn’t expecting it, having thought your oh meant a rejection, but it only took him seconds before he reacted, hands falling to your waist to tug you closer. In his excitement, he tugged too hard and pulled you so either of your legs were across his lap. You broke apart from the kiss with a giggle, meeting his broad smile with one of your own.

“Someone’s eager.” You teased, sitting back in his lap and letting your hands brush across his shoulders and settle on his chest.

“Can you blame me? I’ve been waiting on you for a while.” He grinned, his smile wide as he admired you.

“How long is a while?” You questioned genuinely, thumb brushing  gently back and forth across the fabric of his shirt. You couldn’t get enough of him, and if the way he was smiling at you told you anything, he felt the same way.

“The night we met?” He grinned and you couldn’t help the roll of your eyes at his cheesy comment. It certainly wasn’t love at first sight for you.

“Me complaining about you being loud was how I got you?” You teased, remembering how annoyed you were at him, and how Mat did absolutely nothing to help the situation. He ducked his head up, catching your lips for a quick kiss before slumping back against the couch and smiling warmly at you.

“I mean, you’re cute when you’re angry.” He replied, one of his shoulders shrugging while he held your gaze like he never wanted to look away again.

“So that explains why you kept annoying me.” You mused playfully, watching as a small started to bloom on his cheeks.

“Well, those were accidents.” He confessed bashfully, squeezing your waist as you let out a laugh. “So, do you think you could give me another chance?”

He didn’t really need to ask for another chance, you had long since forgiven him for annoying you those few times. Still, you grinned at him and leaned down for another short, sweet kiss.

“I think I can be convinced.”

[winterscaptain]

long shot.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic - no context required

a/n: this is in response to this ask in kind of a loose way, and also fulfills kiss prompt #6 (on a falling tear). i sat down and wrote this all in one sitting this weekend and it makes me smile SO MUCH. tell me what you think! i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it :) this one takes place in au!december 2012

words: 2.3k warnings: alcohol use/mention, allusions to sex, language

summary: “i couldn’t have dreamed you into existence because i didn’t even know i needed you. you must have been sent to me.” - kamand kojouri

It’s a rare early night off in December and you all make the ill-advised choice to go to the bar closest to the base for some drinks and dancing, completely forgetting that academy graduation is tomorrow. 

There’s part of you that feels aged by the whole thing. Even newly-minted agents your own age look fresh-faced and about a decade younger than you feel. 

When you all walk in, there’s a bit of a hush, a lull, in the conversations around you. You find eyes on you from all directions and realize your faces are familiar ones, and in the case of Aaron and Dave, almost-famous ones. 

Aaron pulls you further into him, almost shielding you with his body as you navigate through the crowd that parts before you. It seems like an eternity before you find a table, but Derek, Aaron, and Spencer hold down the fort while the rest of you manage drinks. Strategic postings at either end of the bar is likely going to get you the best return, so you fan out accordingly. 

It’s unsurprising in the least when the bartenders make a beeline for you all, getting your orders down and drinks started over the shouts of NATs - many of them already blasted with three or four shots under their belt. 

While you wait, you can still feel a fair few pairs of eyes on you. You meet one pair, set in the face of a rather handsome new agent about your age. He smiles at you, and you shift your eyes away from him, your expression unmoving. 

He apparently takes that as invitation enough. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot him as he winds his way to your side. 

You meet Aaron’s eyes across the room, and there’s a smile in them. You offer the smallest twitch of your lips and a wink. Watch this. 

Oh, I’m watching, his eyebrows say. 

“Hi.” The young agent finally reaches your side and offers his hand. You take it. “Agent Mark Sullivan.” 

You smile thinly and introduce yourself. “So, I take it you’ve just received an assignment?”

He laughs, making an attempt at charm. “Alright. You’re a profiler,” he says with confidence. “What gave me away?” It’s a challenge.

It’s also a long shot. A really really long shot. 

There were plenty of people in the vicinity that would be reeled in by his warm smile and handsome jawline, but your fine man (currently sprawled back in his chair with an arm on the back of the chair and a hand over his mouth to cover his smile) stands head and shoulders above the rest, sometimes literally. 

“Well,” you start, making a show of eyeing him from head to toe, “Your papers are still in your pocket and you’ve left your ID tag on, against academy and bureau regulations.” 

He startles and snatches it off his lapel, tucking it into his pocket. 

With a little smile, you soothe his embarrassment - it’s a play only designed to endear yourself to him. “It tells me you’re proud, excited. I felt the same way when I received my assignment and credentials. It’s a significant accomplishment.”

You can’t quite tell in the irregular darkness in the room, but he looks almost like he’s blushing. “Thanks.” He collects himself after a moment, putting his bravado back on. 

Your eyes flicker to Hotch once, twice. He’s still watchful. Amused. 

“So, I was lucky enough to see your lectures with the BAU and I must say...it’s impressive.” 

He says that like it’s some kind of validation. 

I need validation from this clown like I need a hole in the head. 

“Thanks. I’m usually rather modest, but I think it’s alright to say the BAU is a very fine unit.” If you’re honest, you’re talking about one particular unit chief’s...um...unit, specifically, but that’s neither here nor there.

He smirks. “What would you say if I told you I got a placement on one of the BAU teams?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Really? That’s quite the accomplishment.” A pair of arms wind around you and a kiss is pressed to your temple. 

It would also be a lie.

You smile and flip in Aaron’s arms, completely ignoring poor Mark. “I was just getting you a drink,” you explain, gesturing vaguely to the bar behind you. 

“I see. Did you get me -”

“Double scotch, neat, aged at least fifteen years? Yes, sir.” 

He smiles. “You know me so well.” 

“I sure do.” You pull him down by his tie and plant a firm kiss on his lips and shove him off with a smile. “Go. Sit. I’ve got it.” 

You turn back to Mark with a breathless sort of laugh. Aaron always makes you feel a little flushed and you’re happy to play it up for the benefit of the moment. “Sorry about that.” 

Mark, you find, is reconsidering his strategy. His face, while still outwardly warm, harbors a kind of calculated look to it that would almost be funny if you weren’t so eager to see what kind of trick he’d pull next. “So, Hotchner?”

“What about him?”

Mark shrugs. “I dunno. Doesn’t he have a kid?”

You nod. “Yep.” 

“And he’s a widower, right?”

“Yes.” 

Mark laughs a little. “Wouldn’t it be kinda nice to, I dunno, have some fun for a little while?”

You frown at him, and your drink arrives at the hands of the frazzled bartender. You pull the fifty from your sleeve and pass it to him with a smile. After a sip, you ask. “What do you mean?”

“It seems like a lot to take on, you know?” He backpedals upon seeing your squint. “I mean, I’m sure he’s a great guy, but wouldn’t it be nice to have someone...I dunno -” He restores his confidence and leans on the bar. Again, his moves would probably work on someone else, but you were a lost cause. “- easier?”

Aaron’s scotch arrives. You pick it up in your free hand and shrug somewhat breezily. “Maybe.” 

You brush past him, leaving Mark a little confused and a bit stunned. When you return to the table after much jostling, you take a seat right on Aaron’s lap and pass him his drink, reclining in his arms. Scanning over the crowd, Mark’s frowning face sticks out like a sore thumb and you try not to look too smug. 

Other than Rossi, the rest of the team is already out on the dance floor, so you know Aaron doesn’t mind having you close. 

He sets his scotch down and wraps his arms around you kissing the underside of your jaw. You lean into his touch and smile. 

There’s nothing easier than this. 

+++

There’s something a bit sulky about Aaron when you settle next to him in bed. You squint at him, looking for his eyes as they follow the loose pattern on the bedspread. 

“Hey.” You bump his shoulder with yours. “What’s on your mind?” 

He shakes his head a little, still not meeting your eyes. “Nothing. Just thinking.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you throw the covers off and sling a leg over him, straddling his thighs. You tap your palms on his pecs on-beat with your begging. “Come on. Tell me tell me tell me tell -”

“Jesus, alright!” He cuts you off with two hands over yours, his thumbs running fondly over your knuckles. “I just…” He huffs, already a little frustrated with himself for feeling put out. 

You slide your hands out from underneath his, running up over his collarbones and shoulders to find the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I couldn’t help but overhear…”

You let all your breath out in a huff. “Oh, Aaron. He’s a stupid NAT who knows the only way to come after you is to come after your history.” You kiss his cheek and tuck into him. “He was trying to be a big-dick boy and it didn’t pay off for him.” 

There’s a halfhearted laugh from underneath you, and his hands wander across your back. “He is right, though. It would be easi-”

“If you say ‘easier,’ Aaron Hotchner, I’m going to lose my shit.” 

He sighs, and you pull back, tipping his chin up with a finger. 

“Hey. I love Jack. He is not an added weight in my life. He does not make my life harder in any way. Your son,” you emphasize with taps on his lips, “is the light of my life and I wouldn’t ever want to be without him.” 

Aaron’s eyes get a little misty. For his sake, you ignore it and continue. 

“I never feel like a replacement for Haley. I’ve never once minded leaving room for her in our lives because she’s my friend and I love her and I love you. I loved you before we lost her and I’ve loved you long after. This baggage keeps my feet firmly planted on the ground.” 

Aaron takes a deep breath, and his voice has the smallest of wavers when he speaks. Before he even starts, you concede to let him share what he’s feeling, if only to rebut it. “But you could - you could have so much. You could have someone ten or fifteen years younger who - I don’t know - could do things with you that thirty-somethings do. You wouldn’t have to spend your weekends at soccer games or your evenings rubbing Icy Hot on my bad knee or dealing with me on rough pain days or raising your voice because I can’t hear shit on my right side.” 

He shakes his head, and you brush the tears that fall with your thumbs. “You could have - You deserve, so much more...” The rest of his words go unspoken, but you hear them anyway. 

You deserve so much more than me.

Your eyes sting and you blink rapidly, letting your tears wet your lashes. Leaning forward, you kiss away his remaining tears, shifting your weight to wrap your legs around his waist and get as close as you can. 

With your head on his left shoulder, you whisper, “Aaron, I don’t want someone ten or fifteen years younger. I don’t care what I’m doing on my evenings and weekends because I get to spend them with you.” 

You pause for a moment. “And, I don’t need boys. I’m done with boys.” 

You lean back, looking him square in the eye, or at least trying to. “I have a man who has silver in his hair because he worries and is in his mid-forties and it doesn’t fucking matter. I have a man who is the subject of so many crushes and fantasies at the academy it makes me want to vomit.” You laugh a little at your own joke, but he’s still focused on the seam of your shirt at your collar. Changing gears, you bring your hands to the sides of his neck, feeling his pulse jump under your thumbs.

“I have no need for boys because I have a man who treats me with kindness and respect. A man who is thoughtful, who isn’t afraid of himself. A man who knows himself, who loves his son, who invited me into his life when he didn’t have to because he’s brave.”

A couple more tears fall down your cheeks and you frame his face with your hands. “You love better and more courageously than anyone I have ever known.” 

You sniffle a little. “Aaron, honey...I love you. I wouldn’t want anything else, or anyone else, for my life, to be my partner, my best friend, the person I love. Odds have it that you’ll be my husband and the father of any other kids we might acquire and that we’ll grow even older and grayer together.” 

You let a little facetious smirk cross your lips. “And I’d like you to look at me and tell me I’d be happy with some dickhead named Mark with a business degree who wears shoes well-outside his pay grade.” 

That does it. 

Aaron smiles and pulls you to him with a hand at the back of your head. Your lips meet and you can taste the saltwater, but it doesn’t matter. 

He pulls back to look at you, and he really looks at you. His eyes roam hungrily over your face as if trying to memorize every line and curve and lash and budding wrinkle he finds there. 

You simply melt in the dark brown of his eyes, watching him take his time. 

Even then, as you expected, there is some doubt - not in you, of course, but in him. “Really?”

“Really.” You hold up your fist between your faces, pinky extended. “Pinky promise.” 

He smiles a little and links your pinkies together, twisting your hands to kiss your knuckles. Your hands drop into your lap and another little smile crosses your face. 

“What?” He asks.

You shrug. “I’m also thinking about how thirty-something-year-old boys absolutely suck in bed. I can pretty much guarantee that you’re better at - well, just about everything.” 

He closes his eyes and smiles, looking the picture of a happy house cat in the sun. You draw closer, running your nose along his. He leans toward you and captures your lips again. 

The next few hours? Don’t worry. They’re spent proving your point.  

+++

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[how-masterful]

Undercover

Delgado!master x reader

Summary: Finally, the Master had let you join in on field work for earth missions. His newest plan, the Keller machine, is going off without a hitch. The Doctor, however, is starting to suspect he’s seen the mysterious Professor Emil Keller’s assistant before- but more important matters are at play beyond the suspicions of a Time Lord: You’ve followed your Master’s orders perfectly, and a reward is seemingly in order...

Warnings: Lemon, EC for definite below the read more.

Notes: A return to writing for masterful! thankyou for being so patient with me, classes are finally beginning to end and so expect more fic’s to be released soon (perhaps that elusive new remaster will finally come out, despite my endless promises!) This half remaster is, as usual, dedicated to my absolutely beloved @plethora-of-imagines- you might recognise this fic from a while ago, but with a few little refreshes and changes here and there. A remaster of a half remaster, if you will. I hope you enjoy this trip down memory lane, queen!

The doors to the base opened with a mechanical grind and heave, the escorting guards that flanked your side guiding you towards the entrance of the UNIT embassy in London. You turned over your shoulder, heels stood upon the precipice of the entryway, leather gloved hand pulling your circular sunglasses down your nose. You met the gaze of the Brigadier, Doctor and Jo- your eyes lined with a dark kohl and red lips quirking up into a smirk. 

"Will we be seeing you again, officer?" Jo asked, her voice sweet as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her blazer. You nodded with a fond smile, turning on your heels to face them as you pushed your glasses back up your nose, brushing the blonde hairs of your wig behind your ear.

"Perhaps, Miss Grant. However it depends on how the operators here at UNIT manage to handle the situation."

The Brigadier gave his typical expression. It was a raised lip corner, signalled mostly by the movement of his moustache. The various officers at UNIT, most recently Sergeant Benton, referred to it as the Brigadiers ‘not-smile smile’: he was a professional, after all. Hiding his displeasure at his authority being questioned behind a display of decorum.

"Believe me, officer, my men are working to the highest level of capacity. This peace conference shall go off without a hitch."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. You do your Job, Brigadier, and the professor and I shall do ours."

You smiled at the Brigadier, who returned with the legendary expression once more, before turning to face the Doctor. His eyes were narrowed as he inspected your face, head slightly tilted as the ends of his wild white hair and long cape coat were beginning to be caught in the invading draft. You brushed down the front of your black blazer dress, buttons shining as you adjusted your hat with a gentle push.

"Until then, Doctor."

The Time Lord hummed, hardly an answer, watching as you swiftly turned on the heel of your stilettos and headed out of the door. The Brigadier gave a sigh as the eyes of his soldiers followed you out, letting out an abrupt cough that broke the men's gazes from the length of your dress.

“I’m guessing I should consider making that uniform mandatory for you too, since you’re so interested in its design.”

The men quickly resumed whatever work they’d been momentarily distracted from. The Brigadier turned towards his scientific officer with a further movement of his facial hair.

"Honestly, it's as if they've never seen a lady in uniform before."

Jo frowned, shaking her head before turning to the Doctor. He was still following after you, eyes narrow as you clutched your briefcase and elegantly slid into the waiting military vehicle down the steps. Jo sighed loudly as you went.

"Oh Doctor, not you too!"

"That woman seemed familiar. Far too familiar for a stranger, Far too familiar for a supposed visitor from Switzerland, anyway."

Jo rolled her eyes and smiled fondly up at the larger man.

"Doctor, I'm sure you've met many soldiers in your lifetime. Maybe you’re just misremembering?"

"Quite the contrary, Jo. I never forget a face. And my gut is telling me that face will be nothing but trouble."

The Brigadier shook his head, giving a light chuckle as he patted the Doctor on the back.

"Come along now, Doctor. She seemed like a professional young girl. You're more than likely worrying over nothing. That apprehension in your stomach can't be anything more than the result of you skipping breakfast."

The Doctor sighed, Jo taking it as a triumphant sign of his relenting.

"Speaking of food, I'm positively famished. Mike said he’d order some sandwiches from that nice little café around the corner earlier. Coming, Brigadier?"

The Brigadier rolled his eyes.

“I suppose it would be delectable of me to keep captain Yates from his obviously rigid lunch schedule.”

The humans parted, discussing such trivial things as food. But the Doctor knew something was definitely wrong. He'd seen your face before, the memory scratching at his brain. All these pieces were beginning to look like disjointed parts of a puzzle: this Keller machine, the peace conference, and now his strange sense of familiarity. He just needed to find out what was going on, and quickly- before his suspicion came far too late to prevent.

You met his eyes one last time as the vehicle door slammed shut, his curious expression suddenly being hidden by a veil of window tint as the engine revved and began to pull out onto the busy road.

By the time the military car had reached its drop off point, late afternoon clouds had begun to fall over london. You thanked the driver, standing under the early light of the street lamp as you watched the vehicle escape down the road and turn the corner back towards UNIT headquarters. You smirked, turning on your heels once more before heading down the street in the ever growing black of the soon to be evening.

A small skip entered your step as you made your way past the row of houses, a giggle escaping your lips. How your Master's plan was coming together wonderfully, your heart practically racing at the thought of his next attempt at world domination. You could see it now, yourself and the Master stood side by side, watching the destruction of earth as he whispered in your ear how good of a girl you were. It was simply dreamy to imagine: and now professor Emil Keller was about to make it happen.

You reached the end of the street, excitement brimming in your stomach as you caught sight of the large, sleek black car and the glassy eyed driver in the front seat. The man nodded at your presence, turning over his shoulder and speaking to the passenger in the back seat. The tinted window to the rear passenger side door cracked open slightly, cigar smoke billowing out into the night. He hopped out of the driving seat and pulled open the door swiftly as you arrived at the side of the car, the cigar quickly discarded out the window as a familiar voice sent comforting shivers down your spine.

"Come inside, my dear- it's frightfully chilly out there at this hour."

You giggled happily at the Master, sliding into the leather interior of the car and placing yourself firmly into his side. He grasped your chin softly, guiding your face to meet his as you dissolved into a tender, welcoming kiss. You pulled your glasses from your face, discarding them to the side as you buried yourself in the waiting arms of the Master. His coat was warm, smelling just like his cologne and lined with luscious fur, something he’d picked out for himself on a planet during one of your various trips.

The timelord knocked on the roof of the car with his knuckles, the hypnotised driver pushing on the ignition as the windows to the vehicle rolled all the way up.

"Master, I missed you." you admitted into the fur of his jacket, a smile appearing on the Master's lips as you made yourself comfortable. He stole another kiss from you, this time a sweeter, more chaste peck.

"As did I, my dear girl. As did I."

Your blush was positively adorable. The Master looked you up and down, a smile settling to a playful smirk at your rather exciting disguise. You noticed his gaze, lifting his chin with your fingers to meet your eyes.

"What do you think of the disguise?"

The Master grinned, watching you unabashedly attempt to seek his approval.

"You're positively radiant, my love. Even a fabulous disguise such as this can't hide your beauty."

You smiled, pleased with the praise you’d received. You sank back into his embrace, watching the road pass through the front windscreen as your head rested upon his shoulder.

"I never thought I'd sink low enough to be a UNIT officer."

"No doubt you were the most beautiful officer there."

You giggled once more, scratching the underside of the Master's beard. He hummed in delight, pulling you closer to his side. He enjoyed this little game of yours that you were currently playing.

"And no doubt it wasn't my face they were busy looking at."

The Master's face dared to sour at the notion, but you pressed a sweet kiss to his hand, pecking the leather just above where his wedding band lay on his finger. He sighed, relenting to your pledging kiss. At least you knew who you belonged to, even if those perverted, prying officers back at UNIT didn't. He'd enjoy pulling out every eyeball from every officer  that dared to objectify you, but he currently enjoyed the thought of your company more. Besides, there were bigger plans in motion than petty, small-scale revenge.

"I trust you were not only stealing hearts, but were successful in your little task I set you, hmm?"

You beamed up at the timelord with a gasp, nodding with vigour and patting the briefcase at your side. The Master had finally let you out into the field on earth- he relied on you greatly during his plans in distant galaxies, letting you play pretend and dress up to cause as much mischief as you desired. But there was something about earth, about the idea of a human opponent, that made him keep you close to his side. This was an exciting change of pace.

"Yes Master. Documents, files, plans, anything and everything that I could get my hands on. There's nothing more thrilling than seeing 'top secret, keep out.' In big red letters on a dossier. How can a girl resist?"

The Master smiled widely, obviously thrilled, pulling you into his lap and rewarding you with a kiss to your forehead. You squealed happily, head resting on his shoulder as his hands came to rest on your lower back and thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh sat taught against the tight fitting material.

"Good girl, my darling- What a good girl you are. You've made your Master very happy indeed, my dear. How proud he is of his best, most obedient girl."

Your whole body curled up tighter in his arms, pure happiness coursing through your veins. Master was proud, Master was happy. He was drowning you in buckets of praise and telling you everything you wished to hear. It was all you could hope for.

You kissed the underside of his jaw, trembling slightly as his cold, leather clad fingers began to wander up and down your thigh. You allowed your own fingers to trail along his jawline, leather gloves against his skin in return making him almost purr with Joy.

"Your Master couldn't ask for a better, more beautiful girl to obey his every command with no hesitation. How perfect you are. Nobody could ever compare."

You moaned softly. You gathered your strength, pulling yourself from his lap to straddle his waist, hands gripping the fur of his collar as you pressed your foreheads together. Your noses brushed together in collision as his lips teased yours, tension building in your core as you felt his hands move to support your behind as you adjusted your position.

"Please, please Master... Say it. Say it for your good girl."

You bit your lip, stifling a moan as an arm curled around your lower back and a hand came to grasp your chin, thumb pulling your lip from your teeth and brushing over the red stained skin.

"Own me, command me. Tell me I'm yours."

The Master chuckled, voice low as you began to grind against his suit pants. He treasured how much you desired to be under his command, the power his words had over your mind.

"My darling girl, your mind and body belong to me: obey me, obey your Masters every command."

You moaned louder than before, grinding harder against his lap- you could feel his growing hard beneath you, a drawn out 'yes' escaping your lips. The Master purred darkly, snapping his teeth together as you grasped hold of his face in your hands.

"My precious girl, irreplaceable and invaluable. Obey me, pledge yourself to me"

You groaned even louder, eyes fluttering shut as your noses brushed together, your tongue slowly teasing his top lip as he gazed up at you with hungry, heavy eyes. His words were sending chills up your spine, more than the cold outside ever could.

"Master... I’m yours. Every part of me belongs to you, every part of me desperate to serve you. To please you. To be owned. Please, show me I exist only to please you."

Your words were obviously getting him hot and bothered. You pushed off his coat, allowing it to fall against the leather seat, rapidly pulling your hands to your dress as you undid the buttons that lead from your neck to just below your bust. You pushed open the material, exposing your bare chest against his as you pushed your ass further back into his groping hands, his fingers trailing to tug at the hems of your stockings and the lacy material of your panties- which were already painfully damp.

The Master snarled, lips moving to nip and bite at your now exposed neck. His tongue licked at the sensitive skin as he allowed his lips to trail over your breasts. A filthy groan dripped from your tongue as you fought to undo the zipper on his pants, your breath caught in your throat as he suddenly growled at the sensation of your wandering fingers.

He grasped hold on your hands, causing you to whine, pulling them up to his mouth with a sneer and biting at the leather material. Each glove was yanked from your hand by his teeth, his lips racing to kiss your wedding ring which shone upon your finger. You purred, a noise that seemingly pleased him, as a leather gloved hand grasped hold of your throat while another moved to grasp tight purchase of your ass.

Your fingers nimbly fought to undo the zipper and the remaining button on his pants, freeing his cock from his boxers and beginning to stroke it with well practiced precision. With a sharp tug your panties were pulled from under your dress, the lace slipping down your thighs and being hastily pulled off your ankles and dropped to the floor. Anticipation was crippling you, your head thrown back as the Master guided your hips to slide you carefully onto his ready and waiting cock.

The back of the car was filled with your excruciating gasp, the fierce moan rippling from your throat as both of his arms wrapped around your back to support you. Your hands once again found his neck, your arms wrapping around it as you fisted into his salt and pepper hair. Instantly the pair of you dived against each other's lips, your moans muffled within each other's mouths as you began to ride him on the backseat of the car. His tongue was precise, warm and tender inside your mouth as his fingertips dragged down your back, beginning an ecstasy fuelled sensory overload.

You whined, desperate for the connection, whimpering his name into his mouth. 

"Take it off... Master, please."

He seemed to understand perfectly- and to share the sentiment, his gloved fingers furiously fighting to unbutton the rest of your dress and push the black garment to the car floor. You gasped at the rush of chill on your back, pushing yourself deep onto his cock as you swivelled your hips and allowed yourself to bounce on his lap- his fingertips stroking up your spine, grasping hold of the black cap and blonde wig that hid underneath it. He pulled off what was left of your disguise, letting your hair fall free as you skilfully rode him in nothing but your heels, stockings and bra. The sight was sinful to the highest degree. Thank god your driver was hypnotised, or the noises you were making would cause him a dangerous distraction.

Moans and whimpers fell from your lips, your whines combined with the Master's harsh grunts creating a symphony of pleasure in the backseat of the car. You were practically falling apart in his lap, putty in his hands, desperately rocking your hips and grinding down as he supported you from beneath. You allowed your head to throw back, tears almost streaming down your cheeks at the waves of pleasure ravishing over your entire body. The Master was deliberate, thrusting hard and in time with your grinding as you both rode towards satisfaction as the car sped down the road. 

It was positively thrilling, your movements melting together as you felt him handle you like his most precious treasure. It was an utter delight to your system, the feeling of the Master roughly yet carefully thrusting his cock inside of you, seeking to make you utterly boneless in his arms. You could feel your climax was suddenly close, the thin veil of sweat building on your brow a symbol of your devoted effort. The Master was also close to his satisfaction, the sensation building in his core as he came closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

"Master, I'm close, I'm so close."

"Hold on, my darling. Good girl, such a good girl"

His rough voice was enough to make you cum there and then. It was the unspoken rule- you came only when he did. You both believed it was the polite thing to do in any situation.

You gave a final series of grinds before the Master eventually came with a low grunt, the sensation of release making your previous ever growing moans seem miniscule in comparison. You cried out desperately as you also came, the Master's arms wrapping around you as you tiredly slumped forward onto his chest. Both of you gasped for air, the Master carefully removing his handkerchief from his pocket and lightly dabbing at your forehead. Your chest rose and fell quickly, his own hearts racing in tandem in his chest.

You hummed, nestling into his chest and placing a trail of kisses to his neck as he mopped your exhausted brow. You smiled, curling up within his embrace, the chill of sweat causing you to shiver under his touch..

"My love, you never fail to bring me to the utmost parts of ecstasy" he murmured softly, removing the smudged eyeliner from the corner of your eye. You sniffled, sighing at the scent of his cologne on his collar, relishing in his post sex praise.

"Love you, Master. So much..." You murmured, voice small against his jacket. If it weren't for his timelord hearing, you were sure he'd struggle to understand. But he did, softly tucking your hair behind your ear and kissing your lips tenderly. You adored his after sex kisses.

"And I love you, my dear girl. Here, let me wrap you up warm. You'll catch your death, and people will stare."

You smiled tiredly, nodding as he carefully pulled his fur coat onto your exhausted body.

"We wouldn't want that, would we? I’m yours." you proclaimed, a stance that caused the Master to chuckle adoringly.

"That's right, you belong to your Master and your Master alone. And when we get home he'll wrap you up in the softest sheets, allowing you to feast on the finest delicacy in the safety of his arms. Because that's where you belong, my dear girl, after such a delightful performance."

The thought was drool worthy. You weren't sure you didn't already start. When the car arrived at the residency the Master guided you from the car, supporting your arm as you let your head rest upon his shoulder. With an instructing snap the driver grasped hold of your clothes, another guard positioned outside the house grasping hold on your briefcases. You placed a kiss to the timelord's cheek, a gesture he returned with a small boop of your nose. You blushed even harder, feeling so safe wrapped up in the warmth of his coat, leaning against his side.

"Master?" You asked softly, voice tired as you made your way up the steps.

"Yes, my beloved?" He replied, a nickname that made your whole body shiver with adoration.

“I don't think the Doctor trusts me… I think he suspects me.”

The Master tilted his head, raising an eyebrow as you whined into his collar. How adorable, you still cared for the plan even in the after sex haze. He shushed you softly as you continued to mumble against his suit jacket.

“I think he recognized-”

The Master shook his head, causing you to stop in your trail of thought.

“Later, my dear. We can discuss business in the morning. You’ve done so well.”

“But-”

The Master shushed you once more, pausing at the top of the steps of the townhouse. He held you to his chest, guiding you chin up to meet his eyes once more. You pouted softly, his thumb pulling on your bottom lip.

“A familiar face will be the least of his problems, my dear. I’ll send Chin Lee on a little mission tomorrow, a small distraction will be enough for us to continue working on the machine back at Stangmore. Trust me, my darling.”

The Master finally let go of your lip, causing you to moan softly as he pushed a stray hair from your face.

“Let's get you inside, you look positively exhausted.”

“Hmm, I wonder why.”

The Master gave a warning chuckle as you entered into the grand foyer of the townhouse, his eyes widening in a harsh refusal as the hypnotised doorman moved to take your coat. You blushed, this time from embarrassment, the Master ushering you further into the house as you pulled the coat further across your chest.

“I suppose I should take a bath. You can't take over the world while filthy.”

The Master grinned, happy his enjoyment of the finer things in life and his presentational standards had passed on to you. He held your face softly, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek.

“You rest now, my darling. I’ll have some dinner prepared.”

“Nothing fancy, Master. Consider my appetite firmly satiated.”

You wiggled your eyebrows as the Master shook his head, a small giggle escaping from your lips as you began to head upstairs. You considered yourself lucky you could get away with such cheek.

“If you insist, my dear. I’ll send one of the men out to get something quote unquote ‘’not fancy’. I heard there's a lovely quaint little bistro just around the corner”

The Master raised a confused eyebrow as your laughter echoed from the top of the stairs.

[kz-i-co]

If Scars Could Dissapear

Request: "Hi, ummm...I have no idea how to go about this but, I'll give it my best shot! I have no idea If you are still taking requests, but if you are, I'd like you to make one on Hyungwon. With angst and fluff and a depressed reader (10 out of 10 description) because I'm a depressed little sh*t. You don't have to if you don't want to, i understand that you are busy with other past requests and I just thought I'd throw in a request. I'd like to see what you would do with this request IF you even decide to write it. You write your imagines/oneshots (I don't know what you call them!) with amazing detail and I thought I would request this to see how you would go about it. Once again, I understand if you don't accept it, I know you must be very busy with other things but I thought it wouldn't hurt to try. I'm going to end this here because I think I might have made it a little to long, with that being said, bye bye!" - MoMoIsNotFine

Pairing: Hyungwon x Reader

Genre: angst x fluff: depressed reader au

Words: 3k

A/N: I hope this one shot is okay for you. It's a sensitive topic and I hope I don't offend anyone in anyway. I think dealing with depression and suicide is very horrific and needs to be talked about more.

M.list | MX masterlist

You closed the mirror as your eyes were dark with bags, purplish bruises showing that you haven't slept in days. Everything was hazy.

"(Y/N) it's time to take your medication." The nurse spoke to the right of you.

She was forced to keep an eye on you during and that's exactly what she did as you shoved them in your mouth and swallowed a glass of water.

"Tongue." You rolled your eyes as you opened your mouth showing no pills in sight.

"It's time to settle down." The nurse spoke.

"Can I get something from the vending machine first and watch a movie?" You asked.

"Okay." She gave you an accepting expression as she knew you were trying to bend the rules.

"Be back soon." She spoke as you grabbed your cardigan to wear over your warm pajamas and sliding your feet into your nice comfy slippers.

You sighed dragging your feet to the closest machine. You have been at this hospital for two weeks now and you were done seeing the same old scenery everyday. You just wanted to go home already.

You made it to the machine seeing a tall boy selecting something that forced you to wait. You never noticed him before actually. You thought you knew everyone in the juvenile unit.

You sighed loudly as your patience became the worst of you. The boy grabbed what he wanted and bowed respectfully, making you feel guilty immediately.

"Thanks." You said quietly as he stayed quiet.

You wondered what he was here for? Everyone had a different reason that always has an interesting story behind it.

You wandered back down to your hallway seeing the tall boy aimlessly wonder into his room noticing you in the process. He softly waved as a small smile formed onto his pale face.

You waved back but couldn't help but grow confused. What was his story?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You scrolled through your phone bored out your mind as every channel was slowly becoming more and more irrelevant, making you want to pull your hair out. You rolled your eyes seeing random dumb Facebook post and ads filling the white screen, but the further you scrolled the more irritated you have become. Seeing your best friends hanging out at parties, not having a care about the world, especially you at the moment. Sure some would argue "you did this to yourself" but seeing how the people closest to you don't even care was a turn in the blade that was already cutting through the surface.

You ended up throwing your phone across the room, causing two loud bangs as it hit the wall and once again to the floor.

After having a little crying fit, you heard a soft knock on your door but choose to ignore it. But instead of another knock a small piece of paper slid underneath instead causing you to grow confused. You thought it was a nurse that knocked but now you couldn't help but wonder. You got up seeing the note on the floor with a simple message that caused you to softly grin.

"Are you okay?" The message said.

You grabbed your pen from your bedside table and wrote back to the stranger that awaited on the other side of the door.

"Who wants to know?"

"A worried neighbor." The note slide back. You couldn't help but smile as you finally decided to open the door. You saw the boy that stood out to you early sitting up against his door across the hall. He smiled softly as you just closed your door so you could sit and lean against it as well.

You took the note back and turned it over to start a new question. "Why are you so concerned?" You slide the note, leaning forward as he leaned meeting in the middle to grab it.

He took his pen writing something, continuing this weird game of telephone and slid it back over as you were already growing with anticipation. "In a place like this....doesn't everyone?"

"So why are you here?" You slide over the note once again.

He wrote something down but then hesitated to write more. "It's a secret.......but I bet your guess is as good as mine."

You couldn't help but giggle from his response. You figured your guess was as good as anyone else.

He was just like the rest of us in this hospital.

Just kids lost in the darkest parts of our own thoughts. The ones that can't control the temptation that is being spoken at every turn.

It's not like we are crazy. Just depressed.

"Thank you for cheering me up." You slid the note back one last time before receiving a soft smile and a simple wave and finally giving in to a long awaited good nights rest. You felt like it was the night you can finally let yourself have it as you found someone that understands you with the simplest of words.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You dragged your feet, counting the tiles in the process as you made your way to the cafeteria. Once you saw the area, your eyes glanced across the room seeing the boy that couldn't leave your mind. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of his table about to sit down.

"Hi....mind if I sit?" He nodded as a soft smile left his lips. "Just wanted to confirm....you were the stranger at my door right?"

He nodded once again, not saying a word. Did he ever speak?

"Thank you about yesterday. You actually cheered me up." Nothing but a smile. "Umm...do you ever talk?" You finally asked but he just looked down playing with his food.

"I'm sorry." He reached his hand out to gently caress your hand comfortably. Then he slid a note across the table with a simple reply, responding in ink. "You're welcome"

Why didn't he speak?

He looked down at your hand once again noticing another clue to why you were here so you couldn't help but pull away.

"Oh that's nothing." You smiled softly.

He flipped through his little notebook again quickly replying. "You want to be friends?"

"Of course." You smiled brightly.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You heard your daily knock as the morning was approaching and you were already up drawing on the back of your medical pamphlet from your lack of sleep that continued to haunt your days.

"I found this outside, miss (Y/N)." The nurse handed you a note from the one and only. You couldn't help but smile reading a simple "good morning".

"There it is." You looked up as you heard her voice. "I haven't seen you smile since you've been here."

You rolled your eyes as she continued to giggle. "I'm so happy you two are finding a friendship with each other."

"But I think we have to increase your dosage with the melatonin and l-theanine." She wrote on her clipboard. "We need those circles gone."

"Don't you think drugging me to be unconscious is the appropriate way to handle this." She glared at you.

"You need sleep dear. It's good for you."

"I have been sleeping though, much better."

"Yes, it's true. But we need just a little more."

"Jeez, my 2 hours turned into 5 and that's still not enough?" You proudly said sarcastically.

"Nope."

"Can I ask you a question." You began changing the subject. "Do you know why he doesn't speak? I know it's none of my business-"

"Hyungwon? He has a very traumatic past like a lot of you kids here." You come to realize that you never even knew his name.

"Unfortunately It's not my place to disclose that information. But what I can tell you is....continue to speak with him. He likes that." She continued as she started to walk out of the room. "Who knows, maybe he will tell you himself."

....

"Hey." You smiled as you stood outside his door. "I've come to realize that I have never properly introduce myself.....I'm (Y/N)." You held your hand out.

He smiled but quickly grabbed his notebook writing the name that you have already been spoiled. "Nice to meet you Hyungwon. Shall we go to lunch?"

He smiled.

"May I ask you something? And trust me you don't have to answer anything that makes you uncomfortable." You began. "But do you know how long you're in here for?"

He wrote. "Until I get better I guess."

"When will that be?" You continued to ask.

"When I speak." He wrote.

"I'm sorry but that's nonsense." You quickly grew insulted. Not with him of course but whoever is keeping him here. "There's nothing wrong with you if you choose not to talk."

"Thank you (Y/N) but I'm starting to like it here now."

You couldn't help but blush. You felt the same, all you wanted was to leave this place since you've gotten here but now you felt comfort within these walls. Or more importantly, the person sitting in front of you.

"I don't know how long I'm stuck here either. I guess until I get a proper good nights sleep is the starter." You giggled to yourself. "I've felt this burden inside of me as long as I can remember. I don't think I can get fixed, it's just who I am and I have to learn to live with that."

You looked up to see him just sympathetically smile.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Miss (Y/N), you have a visitor." Your nurse smiled as she opened the door wider to reveal your parents.

Seeing your parents, you couldn't help but feel hatred as the memories flooded back to you since they dropped you off. Not a call, not a visit for weeks. But the thing was your head wasn't flooded with emotions, at least not anymore, not since the drugs kicked in. The only thing you wanted to do now is show how much appreciation you learned from being here. You founded yourself embraced in a huge hug from your father and next your mother and honestly, you didn't want to let go. You missed them dearly and you understood that they love you and want you to get better.

"That's a good sigh." Your mother spoke and you looked up seeing her eyes flooded with tears. "We missed you so much."

"Me too." Was all you said. Your heart was still sore but it's getting better.

"You look so much better." Your mother caressed your face. "You'll be coming home sooner then your know it."

You stayed silent. You didn't know what to say honestly.

"Thank you for coming."

"We bought you your sketch book. You forgot it."

"Thank you." You smiled. "This will help take my mind off some things."

"How's it going in here?" Your nurse smiled seeing the family reunion.

"It's great." Your mother answered. "(Y/N) will be home before we know it."

"Yes of course. She has made great progress since she's been here. Even the circles are fading a bit."

"And she's even made a friend." Your nurse continued.

"Oh really?" Your mother spoke with an weary tone.  Like she wants you friends with other crazy kids stuck in this hell hole.

"Oh yeah......he's nice."

"Yes, they both have improved tremendously since they've met." Your nurse continued.

"You think that's acceptable to have patients mess with other patients while dealing with their own problems?" Your mother asked.

"Not at all ma'am.....it's best not to let our patients be isolated, communicating is the best way to deal with such problems. It's not about fixing our problems it's about learning to live with it." She sure as hell, shut your mother up.

"Of course". Your mother smiled.

...

Later after your parents left in a more resentful way then before, you began drawing immediately, almost like you were desperate to express what you missed out in weeks. It was a way to relax, forgot about the world around you and let yourself take in the simple tip of a pencil, mechanical you might add.

You couldn't help but draw a funny animation of Hyungwon and his silent mockery. You imagined him sweet and mute on the outside but on the inside him yelling for attention. Sure it was a dark meaning but the animation viewed it in a different perspective. Not everything needed to be so fragile and hidden away to never be talked about but to show that it's okay to deal with such dark topics and just learn to smile.

You knocked on his door and as soon as he opened it you revealed your drawing with a bright smile. He giggled softly as he let you in his room to probably write down his opinion, which of course he did.

"Thank you." He first wrote. "I love it."

"You're really good." He continued to write.

"Thank you. I've been drawing since I was 12." You smiled. "Do you have any request?"

You read his request as he started jotting things down. He wanted something you couldn't quite imagine. He wanted to be seen as a disk jockey releasing sound waves to make everyone feel happy and forget about this shitty world; to just let people stop and enjoy it while they can.

You pictured it more as he was using music to brainwash everyone but instead of mindless zombies, they were happy. "So musical zombies?" You perked up.

He rolled his eyes at your remark.

"I hate to be lame but I'm really glad I met you, you don't even have to say a word and you're the only one that is here for me."

"My friends haven't even messaged me if I was okay, or even cared enough to visit. My parents act like they care but they didn't have the patients to help me, instead just ship me off to a loony bin - no offense." You felt your eyes water but no tears to shed.

Hyungwon grabbed your hand, holding it softly. "I'm sorry." He whispered that it took you a second to realize he actually spoke instead of writing it down.

You didn't want to make a big deal about it but instead leaned in closer into his warm embrace. His hugs felt like they actually had intentions and feelings instead of a meaningless gesture.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Of course you knew your time in this place would be ending soon but you never know how quick the day would come. It would probably be longer if your parents weren't such paranoid pricks. They are scared of the idea of you friends with someone who is just as messed up as you.

"You think I'm ready to go?" You asked your nurse as you started packing?

"I think you're ready. You were stubborn to get help at first but you really opened up and I'm so proud. I think you just needed someone to understand what you're going through and I'm not talking about me or your parents, but a friend."

"Thank you." You smiled simply. "Can I visit said friend before I leave."

"Of course." And you immediately got up going next door to see an empty room, but of course you knew where your friend was hiding.

You walked into the chapel as your friend was messing with the only music source in this whole hospital. The site made you smile just seeing him mess with the synthesizer, but then it quickly faded as you had to break the news.

"Hey." You sat down next to him. "What you playing?"

"Stuff." He spoke lowly. Hyungwon has opened to you since that night a week ago, he's no chatterbox or anything but he's actually talking again and you felt happy it was because of you.

"I have to tell you something." You said more serious. "I'm.....going home."

"Home."

"But I promise I'll visit and then we can hangout once you leave." You we're trying to hold back your tears.

"It's okay." He whispered as he grabbed your hand.

"I don't want to leave." Then the tears finally fell. "I mean I wanted to leave since I've got here but I don't want to leave you." He tugged you to lean in closer.

"There you are (Y/N). Your parents are here." Your nurse spoke from the door and she immediately felt sympathetic.

You wiped your tears and leaned in kissing him on the cheek. "Thank you for everything you've done for me. I will see you later."

"Promise." He smiled.

"Promise." You held out your pinky, making it an official contract.

And with that you stepped out that door leaving behind your home away from home. The place you fought for weeks and weeks to leave. But now you were finally leaving but you didn't want to....

And it was all because of him.

[therealsaintscully]

Mary and butterflies - the inevitability of death, murderous calling cards and collectors

Some ramblings with links to other people’s excellent meta, in which I suggest that butterflies (and/or moths) symbolize Mary as Moriarty’s reincarnation and or calling card, while also hint at her inevitable death.

Disclaimers: credits are below the cut. I’m not an expert in any of these topics. Thank you, @thewatsonbeekeepers​​ for the beta. In this post I’ll be using moths and butterflies interchangeably, apologies to any entomologists.

Mary’s appearance in the show brings with it new imagery we haven’t seen prior to The Empty Hearse - butterflies. Once Mary’s in the picture, there are butterflies in some very strategic locations, all are either visually or subtextually leading to her. The show has done that previous to season 3; Moriarty is connected to some well established symbols like magpies, apples and IOUs. 

When I first started reading meta I used to think these themes were a bit of a stretch, but I’ve since accepted  that this is a show that puts barely noticeable phoenixes in a restaurant scene that shows us Sherlock rising from his death.

Here are some of the butterflies I spotted so far:

Butterflies (and in the case of this piece of meta, moth) symbolize most commonly resurrection, change and renewal. Behind the symbolism stands the transformation of a small, ungainly creature into something full-grown and unbound. In that case, in the simplest way, one could argue that butterflies were chosen to symbolize her because the ‘Mary Morstan’ persona was a stillborn’s identity that was stolen and used ‘reborn’ to create a new person.

But more than this simplistic idea; butterflies carry multiple symbolisms. When it comes to Sherlock, I and many others tend to look at Victorian symbolism, considering the detective’s Victorian roots. 

I find the appearance of butterflies interesting in Mary’s context, much like I find the skull interesting in Sherlock’s. The skulls, in Sherlock’s case, serve plenty of purposes, but one of them is the idea of memento mori.

Memento mori (Latin for 'remember that you [have to] die') is an artistic or symbolic reminder of the inevitability of death. These are representations that can appear in any form of art such as paintings, literature, poetry etc. It’s a concept that existed in many ancient cultures but is also deeply rooted in early Christianity. It serves to remind people of the inevitable; that even if we choose to ignore it, not think about it, it’s always there lurking, and the purpose is not to scare us but to encourage us to make good use of our time when we’re alive. Memento mori was the philosophy of reflecting on your own death as a form of spiritual improvement, and rejecting earthly vanities.

Victorians were obsessed with the concept (weren’t Victorians obsessed with everything?). They would take photographs of the dead and keep locks of hair of those who died in mourning brooches. It is said that they found these practices comforting. 

Another expression of the ‘remember that you must die’ concept was vanitas art;  vanitas is a symbolic work of art showing the transience of life, the futility of pleasure, and the certainty of death. The Latin noun vanitas (from the Latin adjective vanus 'empty') means 'emptiness', 'futility', or 'worthlessness', the traditional Christian view being that earthly goods and pursuits are transient and worthless. It alludes to Ecclesiastes 1:2; 12:8, where vanitas translates the Hebrew word hevel (הבל), which also includes the concept of transitoriness. 

This concept reminds me, most especially, of the skull used in The Abominable Bride, which is actually Charles Allen Gilbert's 'All is Vanity' Illusion art.

Back to butterflies - butterflies are a staple component of vanitas art - paintings executed in the vanitas style were meant to remind viewers of the transience of life, the futility of pleasure, and the certainty of death. They also provided a moral justification for painting attractive objects - in a way, it’s a justification for the vanity, or the human need of enjoyment of beautiful things.  Below is a vanitas by Jan Sanders van Hemessen:

But butterflies are also considered an omen of death: 

“Butterflies and moths were associated with death, sometimes merely as omens, sometimes as the soul or ghost.” These butterfly omens came in many ways.  For example, in the nineteenth century United States, some people thought that a trio of butterflies was an omen of death.” [x]

Oh.

But I also think there’s more to the butterfly symbolism than Mary’s imminent death; I suggest that, in keeping with @loudest-subtext-in-tv​ M-Theory (suggesting that Mary was planted in John’s life by Moriarty), they symbolize Mary as Moriarty reincarnated following his death in TRF. That Moriarty had indeed not disappointed Sherlock - there was a posthumous game after all! That Sherlock was supposed to understand that while one form of Moriarty died on that roof, another had emerged, continuing the mission of burning Sherlock’s heart. Mary is Moriarty’s calling card, left behind in the crime scene. They’re different, but not separate, which is why Sherlock is so obsessed with Moriarty between HLV-T6T; he’s both wrong and correct at the same time.

So far, what I’ve suggested is that in Sherlock, skulls are Sherlock’s symbolic memento mori - the skulls are associated with Sherlock in some very significant ways. 

However, Mary’s character was doomed from the start - she dies during Sherlock’s hiatus in ACD canon. I believe many fans assumed Sherlock’s Mary expected the same fate when she was introduced to the show. Although the story of Samarra is told by Sherlock, who expects his own death in T6T, Mary is the one who ends up dying. 

Butterflies in ACD canon

Searching for the significance of butterflies in the ACD and BBC canon led me to a number of interesting directions in meta written by others. 

The first and probably the best place to start is this meta post by @tendergingergirl​​, which I strongly suggest you read in full: Butterflies, Sexual Deviancy & The Bloodline Theory in The Hound of The Baskervilles. 

Stapleton also has a hobby. He collects bugs…Butterflies, to be exact. This can often be seen as purely academic, but depending on the actions of the hobbyist, they can indicate more disturbing things. That of holding something vulnerable captive, treating it as your hostage, pinning it down. The torture of animals has come to be a good indicator of someone who would do this to a human. He had already shown callousness by laughing as he recounts to Holmes of ponies wandering onto the Moor, becoming trapped, and dying. In 1974, there was a release of a new edition of Sherlock Holmes stories, with the forward of The Hound of The Baskervilles written by British author, John Fowles. He is responsible for several well-known works, including The French Lieutenant’s Wife. Another, was a novel that Mason finds himself wondering why Fowles doesn’t mention in his introduction, since the villain is such a close parallel to Stapleton.(but as we have learned through the study of ACD, most writers will not come right out and say where they got their inspiration. They like for you to guess!)

A lonely young man, works as a clerk, and collects butterflies, becomes obsessed with a pretty young girl, Miranda, an art student. He chloroforms, and kidnaps her, taking her to his cellar basement, to add Miranda to his collection. That book was called The Collector. But what else does it sound like?

“So yes, I googled. From an article on the release of the movie’s Documentary. "The docu proves a poor reference point for anyone who wants to understand the literary and movie links for “Lambs.” There’s no mention, for example, of how Harris partly based the butterfly-loving Bill on John Fowles’ kidnapper in “The Collector” …And here I thought Mofftiss added allusions to Silence of The Lambs into Sherlock just for fun. SMH.”

@tendergingergirl​ also added this photo to their post:

So what we have here is a chain of metatextualities/inspiration, starting with ACD’s THOB, where Jack Stapelton inspires a book about a disturbed butterfly collector (The Collector by John Fowles), which inspires a the author of Silence of the Lambs in creation of his character Buffalo Bill, a serial murderer who inserts a death's head moth into the victim's throat because he is fascinated by the insect's metamorphosis. Silence of the Lambs served as inspiration for Sherlock  as analyzed by @garkgatiss​ in Bond, Hannibal, and Holmes (I suggest you read the whole Hannibal section) . 

Let’s look again at some imagery from His Last Vow. Mary shoots Sherlock’s heart, essentially burning his heart out, and who does Sherlock meet in his Mind Palace in a very cocoon-like straightjacket? Yes, the dead dude who encourages him to die already (“one more push, and off you pop”).

What’s the next thing we as an audience see once Sherlock opens his eyes? Mary coming to the hospital to hear that Sherlock had, in fact, survived. And what is she wearing? Her butterfly scarf, one which will another appearance later in the episode, during the tarmac scene.

I also find it interesting that in the context of Sherlock and Silence of the Lamb, there’s an element of gender-switching between Moriarty and Mary. Buffalo Bill, the murderer from Silence of the Lambs, skins bodies of women to create himself a woman’s 'suit’; in Sherlock, Moriarty is a man-villain who transforms into a female-villain in the form of a bride and/or Mary. 

By the way, who else is obsessed with his suits?

Also, let’s not forget the worms, maggots and other such crawlers in the grave scene:

Now, let’s go over some of the photos I included in the beginning of this post a bit further.

Mrs. Hudson’s butterfly tea set is first shown in TEH - she uses it to serve John tea when he comes visiting her and tellis her about Mary. We also see it near John’s chair on the day of the wedding. This isn’t Sherlock’s set - his set is different, featuring the British Isles. Moriarty drinks from it in TRF. The next tea set we see, now that Moriarty is dead, is the butterflies one. In TLD, Mrs. Hudson uses Sherlock’s tea set - the butterflies are gone.

Mary’s bedroom wallpaper is very feminine, with flowers and butterflies, both complementing symbols while also very common in vanitas art. Much like Mrs. Hudson’s wallpaper in Baker Street, Mary’s wallpaper is supposed to show the contrast between Mary’s flat/Mary and Sherlock’s flat/Sherlock.

There’s an interesting moth reference in The Empty Hearse, which in my opinion, is Mary & Moriarty related. In short, in a previous piece of meta I wrote, I suggested that the Jack the Ripper case in TEH is subtext alluding to Mary’s skeletons, which Sherlock ignores because he’s upset by his reception by John. And what’s one of the first things Sherlock notices about the skeleton? New mothballs smell, hinting at an attempt to get rid of moth/butterflies - maybe a hint to  the fact that Sherlock has a chance to discover the truth about Mary but misses it. Also, in the context of Mary and the Jack the Ripper case, notice this transition:

Transitions are important on Sherlock - they’re nearly always there to draw our attention.

This, I think, is perhaps the most telling about a possible connection between Mary and Moriarty: we have both magpies (a Moriarty hint) and butterflies together here. This isn’t the only hint of Mary’s past we get in the wedding; there is, after all, the telegram from CAM.

Mary’s scarf is colorful, and it appears by the time Sherlock’s subconscious suspects Mary. Mary’s black butterfly dress - an ominous dress, I’d say - is the one she wears during the labour scene in the car. The third photo is a behind the scenes photo uploaded by Amanda Abbington, although I’m unsure whether this necklace is AA’s or Mary’s (but I couldn’t pass on including this).

Interestingly, the butterflies do not appear in Rosie’s context - either because it’s a telling sign that Mary won’t be with us much longer, or because Rosie is spared being considered a part of the ‘burning Sherlock’s heart’ plan. Sherlock, on the surface, seems to love Rosie and accepts her.

Also, another BTS photograph I came across during my research which I’ve never seen before and ties nicely to the vanity topic is this one (found here):

The Death's-head hawkmoth and ‘Death with Interruptions’

You’ll recall that I referenced The Collector and Silence of the Lambs, both featuring butterflies on their cover art. 

The Silence of the Lambs cover features Acherontia atropos, otherwise known as the death's-head hawkmoth. It gets its name from the sinister-looking skull shape on its back. In many cultures it is thought to be an omen of death. In a bit of another coincidental but stunning piece of symbolism, all three species of the Death's-head hawkmoth are commonly observed raiding beehives of different species of honey bee; A. atropos only invades colonies of the well-known western honey bee, Apis mellifera, and feeds on both nectar and honey. They can move about in hives without being disturbed because they mimic the scent of the bees and are not recognised as intruders.

Anyway, the use of Acherontia atropos reminded me of the book ‘Death with Interruptions’ by Jose Saramago. Interestingly, this is another book about a deathly collector with a butterfly on the cover:

In Death with Interruptions death is a woman, and she falls in love with one of her future victims. She decides to spare his life: Every time death sends him his letter [notifying him of his imminent death], it gets returned. death discovers that, without reason, this man has mistakenly not been killed. Although originally intending merely to analyse this man and discover why he is unique, death eventually becomes infatuated with him, so much so that she takes on human form to meet him. Upon visiting the cellist, she plans to personally give him the letter; instead, she falls in love with him, and, by doing so, she becomes even more human-like.

It’s pretty common to read theories about Mary who maybe was one of the assassins due to kill John both at the pool and in front of Barts. So we have a death harbinger trying to kill someone twice and failing. She then falls in love with him.

But how does the butterfly fit in?

Well, at some point in the story, death (that’s her name, sans a capital d), contemplates that using the death head butterfly, instead of a violet piece of paper, would have sent a much stronger message to those whose death is coming for.

And here’s another last bit of coincidental reference to Sherlock: I’d argue shades of purple, among them shades of violet, are associated with Mary and her secrets. There’s the purple dress she wears in TEH, her bridesmaids’ dresses include various shades of purple (including what I would argue was a violet sash) and let’s not forget:

Oh and, by the way, remember the song Donde Estas, Yolanda from TEH, about a woman called Yolanda? Always thought it was a bit of an odd choice for a song?

Yolanda is a female given name, of Greek origin, meaning Violet.

:)

Thoughts?

Credits: thank you @lukessense​ for directing me to @tendergingergirl​ meta about butterflies. Episode screenshots are from kissthemgoodbye.net.

@sarahthecoat​  @tjlcisthenewsexy​ @devoursjohnlock​ @inevitably-johnlocked​ @shylockgnomes​ @possiblyimbiassed​ @raggedyblue​ @ebaeschnbliah​ @gosherlocked​ @waitedforgarridebs​ @helloliriels​ 

[thetriggeredhappy]

in the latest Dad!Spy fic, it seems like both of them have a degree of separation anxiety. largely *reasonable* separation anxiety because of the whole, y'know, Spy (and eventually Scout) being a mercenary thing, but it's still fascinating to see. i wonder how Spy would deal with easing Jeremy's anxiety and his own all the while knowing that he very well COULD be killed and leave his young son alone any time something goes wrong with work

spy as a dad would i think be extremely concerned about his kid’s safety to the point of paranoia, and the worst part of it all would be all the times when his paranoia is justified.

(warnings for discussion of canon-typical violence, none of it happening onscreen, and assorted mention of spy-type business)

-

Something about this felt so deeply... dishonest. Something he couldn’t quite place. Maybe some sense of irony, or... maybe just the sort of general guilt he’d had as a very young man starting to reverberate within him again. Whatever it was, sitting there and writing down the cipher of a message intended to ensure his son’s safety if he died, while that aforementioned son slept soundly against his shoulder, felt deeply morally wrong.

His eighth birthday was coming up. It was, according to Jeremy, a pretty big deal. And Jacques was aware that most children in more average situations would be having a party together, eating cake and playing games and having fun while he theoretically chatted with the other parents and talked about... school, or, extracurriculars. He wasn’t sure, to be honest, that was just his assumption. But Jeremy’s situation was anything but average, so he’d be making an attempt to do something else, something he’d enjoy enough that perhaps he would be able to put off the conversations of “why can’t I have normal friends?” for one more year. He’d heard about and marked down an annual fair, and found that this year the weekend it was taking place just so happened to also fall on Jeremy’s birthday.

It was a good excuse for why they were leaving town so swiftly. Much more justifiable to himself and more explainable to a very-nearly-eight-year-old than whispers on the wind of a pair of men he thought he’d killed twelve years previously being seen within the state and that alone being enough to make him very very nervous. He did not believe in coincidences, and moreover, he knew that him finding out about these men being alive was not an accident, it was a warning, and the only one he would be receiving before they struck to kill.

Regardless, he was still a bit troubled by it. And he knew it was an adjustment from the plans he’d been hesitantly laying for some time on where he would be and when, his route a closely guarded secret meant to be known to exactly three trustworthy people in entirely seperate areas of the world, and even then it was a risk he would never have taken previously. But him going missing would be several degrees more significant, as he’d realized roughly eight years ago.

A movement to shift, trying to keep his arm from falling asleep, was enough to wake up Jeremy, who blinked a few times down at what Jacques was writing as if waiting for the letters to make sense. “Is that Russian?” he mumbled sleepily after two minutes of silence.

“No,” he said, having to pause in his writing entirely, broken from the rhythm he’d gotten into. “It’s a cipher. Secret symbols and letters.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said simply, and went silent and still for long enough that he convinced himself that he’d surely fallen back asleep, and he was a bit startled when he spoke again. “Who are you writing secret symbols at?”

“A friend of mine,” he answered carefully, if kindly. “You’ve met him. Twice, actually. A very large man, who also wore a suit. I believe you told him you really liked his tie.”

Peter was a good man, or as good as one could be given the circumstances the two of them both worked in. He had made a very genuine effort at, as Jacques had requested, ‘easing up’ on the usual intimidating way that he carried himself when he’d been been told Jeremy would be there at one of the very brief meetings the two of them had. One was when Jeremy was three, and fully preoccupied with a gift he’d received for the holidays, and the other was when Jeremy was six. Apparently, Peter had decided the best way to appear less intimidating to a young child was to wear a tie plastered with a pattern of cartoonish bubbles. Jacques thought it was perhaps the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen, but was promptly proven wrong when Jeremy pointed it out gleefully within moments of being in a room with the man.

If Jacques died unexpectedly in most of the mainland United States and immediately surrounding territories, Peter would likely be the one taking care of Jeremy. At least until the other two correspondents could stop by and negotiate further on what would happen with him. Peter, at least, could cook and survive alone for multiple people (as he’d proven before on at least one occasion where Jacques was too injured to take care of himself and required assistance), and if he would stoop so low as to wear a bubble-patterned tie because he wanted to avoid intimidating a six-year-old, he was likely capable of stooping low enough to perform other essential activities involved with raising a child.

“I don’t remember that,” Jeremy muttered, shifting slightly.

“That is fair,” he nodded. “You do meet a lot of people, mon lapin, it is not easy keeping names straight.”

He hummed in sleepy agreement. A pause. “That one looks like a dog,” he finally said, pointing at one of the little letters on the page.

He tilted his head, squinting a little. “Hm. I suppose it does,” he acquiesced.

“Does it mean dog?”

“It is not kanji, the characters represent letters, which spell words in German,” Jacques replied.

“Is it that letter that looks like a B but it isn’t and sounds like that one dog?”

“...Are you referring to an eszett?”

“Yeah.”

“...And what dog does it sound like, exactly?” Jacques asked, fully baffled.

“The one that howls really loud.”

“Howls really—mon lapin, are you referring to a basset hound?”

“Yeah!” he agreed, sitting up a little and smiling. “That’s it!”

He wanted to further investigate why the word eszett reminded his son of basset hounds, but Jeremy picked that moment to yawn, reminding him of something.

“Well, dogs or otherwise, I do believe that it’s past your bedtime. You should go to sleep,” he said, no room in his tone for argument.

The whining noises began and were silenced by a swift kiss to the top of his head and the setting aside of the notebook he was working from, moving as if to pick up Jeremy and properly put him to bed. But then more genuine protests began, Jeremy moving to dart beneath the sheets before he could even properly set his pen down.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” he asked earnestly, employing the use of his big blue too-much-like-his-mother’s eyes. A slightly disapproving tilt of the head did nothing to dissuade him, so Jacques sighed inwardly, standing regardless.

“Alright, alright,” he surrendered as he moved to also get ready for sleep, “but I will be awake rather early in the morning, and you do not get to complain at me if you also end up awake as a result.”

Jeremy didn’t look upset by this caveat in the slightest, just burrowing further and smiling like he’d won some sort of contest.

And he looked asleep enough by the time Jacques was back that he was very quiet and careful about getting back into bed, but woke up regardless with the express intent of tucking against his arm again.

And he knew he would miss this one day. His son was already growing up much too fast, and at very-nearly-eight-years-old was closer in many ways to twelve, and surely only had another year or so before he would be much too embarrassed to lean against his father’s shoulder this way, to comment upon how things looked like an animal, to speak so freely. Soon he would be having secrets, a life of his own that he’d know nothing about, and he looked forward to it of course but he would also miss it so very dearly.

He’d hate to miss any more of it by dying unexpectedly.

He wished he didn’t need to prepare for the worst. He wished he didn’t feel guilty for needing to work out details about what would happen if the nightmare scenario occurred. And more than that, he wished he didn’t have to feel all the more guilty about having no plan at all for what he would do if something happened to Jeremy. It was unthinkable. He couldn’t imagine having a world without his son in it, not anymore.

And so he leaned back as well, albiet so much more carefully with the understanding of the fact that children tend to be fragile, and couldn’t imagine.

[burnedbyshoto]

Attraction

Kinktober Day 27 ~ kink: rivalry

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cussing, alcohol mention, college!au

word count: 11,000

a/n: I went.... plus ultra on this... I wrote it all day and I think its amazing. if you’re concerned I even made a literal summary of what it is. by all means you can read most of this even if you don’t like smut!!!

Synopsis: You and Shouto have to work with each other on a psychology project. A psychology project on attraction. The hard thing about this of course is that the two of you hate each other. 

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Being a doctor was the biggest dream you’ve had since high school. You wanted to take care of people, improve their physical and emotional wellbeing. A doctor was your everyday hero and you wanted to be that.

When university applications began during high school, you submitted an application to the best school in Japan.

Yuuei University.

They were now known for their very low acceptance rate, it's high retention and graduation rates! As well as most graduates becoming the most successful individuals in their field! It was no question that you applied there!

When you got in, your family and you had celebrated for an entire week. It was extraordinary.

Of course, Yuuei was a rigorous university. You spent days and nights studying. Even the weekends weren’t filled with partying due to the nature of your classes. As a Biochemistry Major, you had a lot on your plate. All while taking the needed courses as well as the pre-req classes for medical school. You were always at the top of your game.

So when you were selecting classes for the second semester of your third year, it shocked you to hear that four more units of a psychology class were needed. A class needed to complete the core requirements that the university held.

So you sat in your advisor's office. Your eyes looked at the different courses offered for psychology. All the weird ones were for the second semester. You had first pick still, given that you had so many credits and were now an upperclassman.

“Is there anything in psychology dealing with physiological or neurological issues?” You asked, only seeing Abnormal Psychology which you’d already taken.

Your advisor looked up at you, his tired eyes bloodshot as he skimmed the course list. Aizawa had been your advisor since you were admitted. You came in already declared as a Biochemistry major and had stuck with your decision all this time.

“There’s a 400 level class called Psychology and the Brain,” Aizawa told you, moving his computer screen for you to look at. “It looks like you met the requirements to take the class, and it’s the only class close to what you want.”

You nod your head as you type out the class on your phone.

“It meets twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday for two hours,” Aizawa tells you as you nod. All of your other classes were on other days. It worked within your schedule.

“That sounds good!” You chirp standing up, slinging your backpack over your shoulder you sigh. “You’ll let me know if I have any of the same classes as him?”

“No can do, you two have the same major. You need to get over this childish rivalry.” Aizawa deadpans as your nose wrinkles.

“Fine.” You moan as you wave goodbye, your pace quickening so you wouldn’t miss your one p.m. lecture.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

The Next Semester

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Your eyes widened as you stepped into the Psychology lecture. It was a bigger class then you were expecting. With a total of what you were guessing to be already sixty people in the class, your eyes locked onto your friends.

“Y/l/n!”

“Hi, Mina.” You smile as you walk over towards the empty seat next to your best friend.

“I can’t believe I’m taking this class!” She gushes as you sit down next to her, your fingers pulling out your laptop in preparation for the class. “I wasn’t going to take this class at all, but then you told me you were taking it! I also heard that this is a huge partner-based class, so if we get paired up together it’ll be super fun!”

You nod your head in agreement as the pink-haired girl rambles off. She speaks excitedly about what this new semester was going to bring! About how excited she was for the final year next year! While she was speaking to you, your eyes took a better sweep of the room.

There were a lot of people you recognized! You’d taken classes with many of these individuals before. It was for general biology, general chemistry, and the abnormal psychology class. You smiled and a warm feeling spread in your chest seeing that the one person you didn’t want here wasn’t here.

“Did you hear that Yao-momo is going on a date?” Mina asks you, and your eyes widen.

“What! No?! With who?!” Your jaw is on the floor as Mina catches you up to speed.

During your freshman orientation, you were then placed into a group of twenty kids. Under the name of Group 1-A, the twenty of you became very close friends! To this day, you were all very close! That is, except for you and him.

Well, he wasn't close to anyone except ten people.

Your eyes snapped towards the front of the lecture hall as Professor Midnight walked in. Multiple binders in her hands as she tossed them onto the table by the podium.

Professor Midnight was a blessing to your school, in your opinion at least. She was incredibly intelligent and was very open about her sex life. Midnight was funny and entertaining. It made you wish at times that you were a psychology major just so that you could have more classes with her. Midnight believed that being open with your sexual identity and things alike were important.

“Alright!” Midnight shouted towards the class and everyone quieted down. “The syllabus is on the website, make sure to read it! We have a lot to cover and not enough time so without further adieu, let’s get—“

The doors opened.

Your eyes looked back and your previous excitement died in your chest as you saw who walked in. Tall and serious, with a pair of black joggers and a black t-shirt he sat down near the front of the class.

A short giggle was heard from Mina who nudged you. You had to restrain the frustrated groan at the back of your throat as you rubbed your throbbing temples.

Why?

Why must this always happen?

“Todoroki-san, thank you for being on time for the first lecture.” Midnight jokes with no malice as she turns her attention back to what she was saying.

Your eyes wander toward the two-tone-haired man. Your fingers drum against the desk as you exhale, why was this always happening?

“As you may or may not have heard already, this class is a major project class. There is minimal lecturing, only presentations that will be conducted based on your topic. The final is a paper and formal presentation to be done with your partner.” You felt Mina nudge you with her elbow and you glanced at her and grinned. “That being said, I have already created said partners for you.”

Your smile fell off your face as Midnight connected her laptop to the projector.

“This list was created at random, so no, I do not care if you want to trade or switch partners. You don’t get that option. Please find your name and partner and sit next to each other. We will begin with your first assignment after you’re paired up.”

The list flashed onto the screen, and your eyes scour the list in search of your name.

Please just let it be someone good…

“Oh,” Mina exclaims, her hands on her face as she grins. “I’m with Aoyama!”

“Aoyama’s in the class?!” You ask looking around for your favorite blond.

“I guess so, but I need to go find him now! Good luck!” Mina cries as she grabs her things and looks around.

Your frown increases as your eyes continue down the list.

Y/l/n y/n.

Y/l/n y/n.

Y/l/n—

Your breathing stops in your throat as you find your name near the bottom.

Todoroki Shouto, Y/l/n y/n.

Oh no.

Your eyes immediately look over towards Todoroki who’s looking back at you. If this was an anime, the class would have dropped in temperature by fifty degrees by two of your’s icy glares. Both of you didn’t move.

Everyone else was already with their partner, introductions being made if they didn’t already know the other.

But you and Todoroki?

Neither one of you moved.

Your gazes still locked, but your bodies were unmoving. Like hell, you were going to move to the front of the room.

In fact, Todoroki was the only person in the front of the room! You had also decided that you were not moving.

With your gaze never breaking away from his, you point towards the empty seat next to you. Todoroki rolls his eyes, his own finger pointing towards the empty chair next to him.

Both of you refusing to move, and your heart was pounding in your frustration. Why was he such a fucking dick?

“Todoroki, Y/l/n…” Midnight called, her arms folded as her eyes swept between the two of you. Giggles erupt within the class. Oh yes, the hatred and rivalry between the two of you were legendary within the school. “One of you needs to move…”

“I was here on time, professor.” You say never once breaking eye contact with the heterochromatic man. Who the hell did he think he was anyway? Thinking he could act this way because his dad was rich and sort of famous?

“As was I.” Todoroki quirks his eyebrow. “Lecture starts at one thirty-five. It was one thirty-four when I walked in; Midnight was early.”

“Doesn’t change the fact I was here first.” Your lips pressing into a scowl as you crossed your arms.

“Too embarrassed to sit in the front, y/l/n?” Todoroki taunts and your rage spikes.

“Too stupid to pay attention near the back, Todoroki?” You retort.

“Children, children!” Midnight cries, her fingers rubbing her temples. “Let’s compromise! Why don’t you sit in the middle of where you both are.”

You want to say no, but you know what a pain in the ass the two of you are. Still, as you gather your things, the two of you refuse to break eye contact. You walk towards the middle and sit on the aisle seat. The class snickering as Todoroki takes the other aisle seat.

There was no winning in this war.

“...okay, well moving on. Let’s pick your first research project which is due next month!” Midnight exclaims her hands grabbing a jar with folded pieces of paper in it. Seeing that you and Todoroki were in front of everyone else, Midnight approaches you two first. “Who’s pulling?”

Both your and Todoroki’s hands shootout. Your eyes glaring at each other as Todoroki retreats his hand given that you’re closer. You smirked in triumph as you place your hand into the bucket and pull out a piece of paper.

You unfold the paper and read-aloud for the class.

“The Mental and Physiological Effects of Attraction…” Your voice trails off, your body seemingly wilting in on itself as you sigh.

Todoroki’s glare slams onto your face and ooh’s and ahh’s resonate through the class. Your hands rub your face as Midnight giggles leaving the two of you to get to the next pair.

Why were you so out of luck when it came to Todoroki?

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“So, you’ll never guess what!” Mina laughs as she drinks from her bottle of soju.

You roll your eyes as you look over your class notes from the week. After what you would call an average first week back to school, you and your friends were gathered together to study and drink. Was it a bad combination? Yes. Was it fun though? Yes.

“Let me guess!” Hagakure squealed. The medical mask she always wore was on the table, her stack of textbooks and notes on the floor. Hagakure wasn’t one too involved in her studies. “Todoroki-kun and y/n are in all the same classes together!”

Your cheeks flared up in embarrassment and anger as the six girls howled in laughter. “Come on!” You moan as you pouted. The many pages of notes you had been writing were currently being transferred onto a google doc for clarity and memory retention.

Mina nods her head excitedly, ignoring your protests as she rambles. “Not only are they in the same classes, but they’re partners for the entire rest of the semester! Plus they’re writing about attraction!” The girls seem to eat this right up as you try to ignore them.

Momo nudges you with her shoulder, her fingers grabbing at your notebook for the psychology class. “You two can’t get enough of each other, can you?” She teases as she flips through your notebook that was already filled with notes.

“You’d think with all those classes they have together they’d at least be lawful with each other.” Uraraka snorts as she takes a rather big chug from her drink.

“He’s a fucking dick that’s why.” You roll your eyes as you crack your sore wrist. You had finished up your notes for your biochemistry class. Now you would be moving on to starting the paper with Todoroki.

There was a good reason for this paper to take an entire month to be due. It was required to be at least fifty pages with fifteen different resources, and to your belief, it was going to be a pain in the ass to complete.

“I think he’s super hot, too bad he won’t ever give in to my seduction!” Mina sighs and you choke on your water, your eyes flying to your best friend.

“E-Excuse me?!”

“Just because you two want to skin each other doesn’t mean I don't want to.” Mina laughs and you groan.

“Why do you even hate Todoroki-san?” Tsuyu asks, her fingers on her chin in a quizzical fashion. “I thought you two were finally over your pride?”

“OH, I can explain this.” Jirou cackles as leans onto the table. Her musical compositions hidden behind her elbows. “Todoroki and y/n are in the same major! They have the same classes all the time somehow, and have received the same test scores on everything! They share the same ranking in school because of this, and y/n is super salty about it.”

“I am not salty!” You complain, your hands covering your face as the girls laugh at you. “I tried to be fucking nice, but he was a total cunt to me, so I stopped.”

“But Todoroki-san isn’t rude.” Momo defends her longtime friend.

“To you maybe.” You sigh, your fingers grasping the bottle of wine that Momo had been hogging. “I just think there’s no reason for me to be nice to someone who isn’t nice to me.”

“Sounds petty to me!” Uraraka laughs as you kick her shin from under the table. But the girls are too lost in their mirth over this situation that your protests fall on deaf ears. “Watch them get into the same medical school, too!”

You freeze as you look up from your new google doc, “What now?”

“He wants to be a doctor, too.” Jirou sighs, her head leaning against her palm. “This is really old news.”

“Wha--”

“Why do you even dislike Todoroki-kun?” Hagakure asks, her head tilted as she takes a long chug from her drink. “I’ve never understood why.”

“Because he’s arrogant, condescending, his voice is entirely way too annoying! He always rolls his eyes when someone says something wrong but never raises his hand to say the right thing! Then he always has this attitude! For the one philosophy class, I took, did you know he always was on the opposing team just to fight against me? I was never fucking wrong, but he never failed to be on the opposite team just because I was on the other team. Plus, that one time I had my hands full of shit and was trying to go to the elevator -- stop laughing -- he let the doors close before I even got there!” You scowl at your amused friends who were in very much enjoying your rant. “So no, Jirou, it is not because of school-related things!”

“Maybe they just need to fuck to get over whatever’s happening between them.” Mina stage whispers to Uraraka who nods in agreement.

“Come on, what is this high school?” You roll your eyes.

They could only grin as they shouted to each other their ideas as to what was happening between you and Todoroki. There was a knock on your door and you sighed as you pushed away from the table and walked over to the door.

“Who is it?” Tsuyu calls before you can even open the door.

“I don’t know!” You respond as you throw open the door and come face to chest with Todoroki.

A scowl solidifies over your face as you look up at the taller man. “What?” You ask, your arms folding as you lean against the door frame.

“You guys are being loud.” He says, his face in a deadpan.

“Quiet hours aren’t until midnight, and it’s only eleven.”

“I know, but we can still come over and complain.”

“We’ll be quiet at midnight.”

“I’m asking you to be quiet now.”

“You’re the only ones complaining, and I’m sure you and the boys aren’t being quiet yourselves.”

“Midoriya has a headache.” Todoroki narrowed his eyes at your stubborn position.

“Midoriya-kun was over ten minutes ago! He was feeling perfect because he was talking to Uraraka-chan.” You remark, your hands coming out to look at your fingernails.

“Who is it, y/l/n-chan!” Momo calls out this time.

“It’s me,” Todoroki responds as you made no effort to respond to your friend.

Your eyes shut in a grimace at the sounds of scraping chairs. You can hear them walking over. The small yet amused chatter ringing in your ears as you glare up at Todoroki who quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Hey, Todoroki-kun!” Mina exclaims and you watch as your friends all greet your bitter rival.

“You guys are being loud, would you mind being quieter?” Todoroki asks someone in the group, but his eyes are concentrated on yours.

“Oh, yeah! Sorry for being loud.” Jirou responds back for the group, but you roll your eyes as Todoroki smiles in thanks. It’s a smile directed at Jirou but his damn eyes are still on you. A stupid charming smile on a stupid fucking asshole.

“Is that it?” You ask, your nose sticking up into the air, your hand on the door ready to slam it into his face.

“Oh, for the paper. I’ve already started.” Todoroki tells you with a condescending smirk. “I’ll share the document with you, but I don’t expect you to write anything productive or of value onto it.”

“I can write a fucking paper in two minutes that is a trillion times better than you in a whole month.” Your sneer as your grip on the door tightens.

“You look like the type to forget to write your own name on papers, oh wait--”

You slam the door in his face, your ears burning with embarrassment as you refuse to turn around. You don’t want to see your friends faces as your head slams against the wood door.

“You… forget to write your name on your papers?” Momo asks you.

“It’s okay, y/n, I forget all the damn time.” Mina cackles as they drag you back to the kitchen. Despite your best attempts, the girls remained relatively quiet for the rest of the night.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Two Weeks Until the Paper is Due

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You walked into the library. Your fingers were holding onto your cup of tea. Your arms filled with books for your research paper, and your backpack was open. You ignored the looks of pity that followed you as you climbed the staircase of the library.

How was it only two weeks into the semester and you were looking like it was finals week? This was the fucking worst.

On top of your disheveled state, you were late for your meeting with Todoroki. On one hand, you hated being late. You were a punctual student and always arrived before necessary! So there was a part of you that felt bad even if it was Todoroki. But on the other hand, fuck him.

You giggled at that thought as you moved towards the study rooms on the back walls. Your eyes peered into each room. Looking for what seemed like the genetic phenomenon boy himself. You found him in the room furthest away sitting in there with Bakugou who was packing up his own things. Without knocking you walked in, the door slamming against the wall as you did so.

“Fucking hell, y/n/n!” Bakugou hissed as you walked in. “Learn how to open a fucking door correctly!”

Placing the cup of tea onto the table you smiled at the ash-blond who was zipping up his backpack. “Sorry, my hands were full and I don’t know my own strength.” You tease as the blond man pinches your cheeks playfully. “Ow, don’t be an asshole!”

“Respect the laws of the school first.” 

“Don’t become Iida!” You laugh as Bakugou pulls you into a one-armed hug. Oh, how the three years at Yuuei had changed this man.

“Hah? Shut the fuck up.” Bakugou rolls his eyes as he pulls his backpack on. “Alright, I’ll be going, see you guys.” His hand waves as he walks out of the room leaving you and Todoroki in the awkward silence of the room.

You move in silence. Pulling out your notebook, organizing the textbooks you had, and grabbing your laptop.

Todoroki is sitting by the wall, and in a room designed to hold at most ten people, you sat on the chair furthest from him. You pull out the rolling chair and sink in. Your eyes falling on Todoroki finally who was looking less than amused.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“I don’t want to waste my memory data on you.”

“Too bad, you’d finally have something of value on your phone.”

Todoroki rolls his eyes as he leans backward. “You were late though.”

“Oh get your panties out of a twist,” You mumble as you open the shared document between the two of you. “I lost track of time.”

“You said you were on your way thirty minutes ago. You’re five minutes away.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you stare at him, “I’m tired, Todoroki. I went to go get some damn tea and they messed up my order! But since it was the coffee rush hour they couldn’t make my tea right away as they typically do.”

Todoroki glares at you but breaks away from it as you both turn to the paper.

It’s silent outside of your fingers hitting the keyboard. The paper was being written at the very least.

Well, okay, it wasn’t really.

The two of you had fought at three in the morning about how ugly the paper was being written. Yes, your roommates were sick of the two of you when the argument was being fought. The same night he had told you and your roommates to shut up, you went over thirty minutes later to complain about how he was writing the paper. Under the combined powers of Momo, Iida, and Midoriya the two of you agreed to write the paper separately. Later you would join whatever flowed better between the two of your pieces. The prompt was the same after all, and you were both using the same resources.

“I’m playing music.” You announce, putting your Spotify playlist on.

You knew what music Todoroki hated. It took getting your best friends drunk, but you had managed to get a shitload of information on Todoroki. Details surrounding what he liked, but more importantly, what he hated.

You concentrated on the paper in front of you, but the curling grin on your face was unstoppable as you caught him freezing. His eyes snapping over to your hunched figure as I Want It That Way by the Backstreet Boys played through your speakers.

“I don’t like this song,” Todoroki says, his tone smooth. His hands pressing into the table in what could be an intimidating position.

“Hm, I don’t remember saying I was playing this song for you…” You murmur. You straighten up as you stare at him, your mouth dropping as you shake your head. “Don’t tell me you’re not a fan of pop music? This genre has the greatest artists in the world! Like when people say they like rap or lo-fi they’re insane for ever believing that!”

Todoroki stares at you, his expression unamused as he turns back towards his computer.

Oh yeah, you were both going to murder each other well before this paper was due.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

One Week Before the Paper is Due

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You sat on Todoroki’s bedroom floor.

Your hands shifting through the mountain of books the two of you were in possession of for the paper. The assignment itself was not hard at all. In fact, had you been with a less infuriating partner, you were positive it would have finished already. But for some reason, whenever Todoroki and you made one step forward, you shot back twenty steps.

Today you were working on the assignment in his room for a few varying reasons.

One is that for some reason all the study rooms were being used and the two of you didn’t have time to wait around. Second, being that Uraraka had requested to have the dorm room for four hours. Given that you have all requested to have the place to yourself before, everyone agreed. The third and final reason being that Todoroki’s kitchen and dining areas were now occupied by his roommates.

When the two of you trudged in together, his roommates nearly lost their shit. Kirishima and Iida were the most expressive, and Bakugou had quirked an amused eyebrow. You were a bit confused as to why they all seemed so excited by your arrival with Todoroki of all people. Most people were not so amused when the two of you entered the same room.

“We’re here to write the paper.” Todoroki inputted right away, walking to his room as soon as he could. You rolled your eyes as you went around and said hi to his own roommates-- your friends.

You, uncaring of what Todoroki thought of you, stayed out there and talked with your friends. Todoroki and you were both thirty-seven pages into your separate and yet to be fused paper. Given that you had a whole outline for the next at least thirteen pages, you weren’t in too much of a hurry to run over to his room.

“Y/l/n, really?” Todoroki snaps as you were talking to Kirishima about if he would help you dye your hair one day. You look over at Todoroki who’s changed into sweats and a white t-shirt.

Stupid fucking genetic phenomenon you internally cursed as you smiled at the other boys.

“I guess I gotta go, don’t forget about me.” You depart with a sad smile, Todoroki glaring at you as you pass him in the hallway.

Now, you sat on his floor as he took his bed. Your fingers were typing away as you hummed to the playing music. It was Todoroki’s turn to play the designated music, and you had to admit lo-fi music was extremely catchy.

Your feet tap along with the music as you think of ways to rearrange a sentence you had written.

“What did you get on Aizawa’s test?” Todoroki asked you, ripping your thoughts away from your writing. Your eyes fluttered as you looked at him.

“The test grades are out already?” You asked as you pull out your phone to look at your grades app.

“Just posted,” Todoroki grumbles.

You nod as you look at your result. A swell of pride shoots through you as you nod, “What did you get?” You ask a confident smirk on your face.

“Ninety-seven percent.”

“Fucking hell.” You growl tossing your phone away from you. “Same here…”

Your eyes glue onto your laptop again, and you miss the amused smirk on Todoroki’s face as you continue writing.

“Are you almost done yet?” Todoroki asks you, his eyebrow quirked.

You glance up, your eyes rolling as you scoff. “I’m on page forty-three, what are you on? Twenty?”

“I have fifty pages done.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

Your fingers trace your mousepad. Sure enough, there are ninety-three pages on the single document. Your lips tighten as your eye twitches.

“Well, it’s easier to write when you’re implementing an eighty percent quote paper.” You snark as you return to your pages.

“My paper has the bare minimum amount of quotes, you’re the idiot who can’t keep up.”

You huff your fingers returning to the paper as you typed away. The music kept playing as the two of you remained in silence. You pushed your hair out of your face. You continued looking between what you were writing and what you were needing to put.

“What are you even writing?” Todoroki asks you, his brows furrowing as you type away.

“The paper we’ll be submitting, why?” You ask, your eyes looking over at him before returning back to your screen.

“It’s kind of shit.”

“I bet yours is worse, so shut up.”

“You know, there’s no shame in admitting that you’re not good at writing.”

“There is nothing wrong with my writing!” You sneer as you continue writing, your fingers coming down to hit the keyboard harder. The clattering of the keys echoing in your ears as your heart hammers away.

“Nothing is making sense, it’s a research paper, y/l/n. Why are you trying to make the wording pretty? No one cares how many high-level words are in your vocabulary, be concise and stop being a fucking scholar.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, I forget that words like brain and neurology are too advanced for you.” You gasp as you stare at his unamused eyes. “Oh, let me dumb that down for you. My words too smart for your head.” You pout in mocking sadness as you return to your paper.

You can’t explain it, but your heart feels like it’s cracking as the two of you remain in tense silence as you finish writing.

It takes an hour, but you’re finally done with your fifty pages. You stand up without a single word. Your joints are sore from the uncomfortable floor, but you pack up without a sound. You can feel Todoroki’s eyes following after you as you throw your arms under your backpack and leave. His bedroom door slamming closed as you walk into the hallway.

Six pairs of eyes stare at you as you smile weakly.

“Bye, boys,” you say as you walk out.

This semester was nearly a month in and you were going to have to deal with him for the rest of the semester. Something told you that you were not going to be able to handle Todoroki for much longer.

Yes, you hated him, but you could not fight and argue with him every day of the week. It was just exhausting.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Three Hours Until Paper is Due

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Your eyes trained on Todoroki’s paper.

Your pointer dragging along sentences you hated. Editing basic issues he passed by and leaving comments where you deemed necessary.

“What the fuck was wrong with that sentence?” Todoroki asks, his eye twitching as you were busy typing in a reason why the sentence was wrong.

“Wait for my comments,” you sneer as you press publish.

You continue reading his paper. Your eyes concentrating on yet another sentence that you believed was subpar.

“You hate the entire thing because I didn’t use a semicolon?” Todoroki exclaims, his hand dragging against his face. “Are you fucking sane, y/l/n?”

“Very much so, you’re twenty-one, grow the fuck up.” You roll your eyes as you type up yet another rude comment on his paper.

The two of you had been in a study room together for the entire day. Yes, the entire past sixteen hours the two of you have sat in this room together attempting to fuse this damn paper. So far it was not working.

Since the two of you had edited your works during the week, today was actually supposed to be a fusion day only. The second the two of you began reading over your essay, Todoroki looked at you, his eyebrow twitching.

He had gone on to complain that what you were writing was atrocious. That it was by far one of the worst things he'd have to read in a while. You, not wanting to be talked to like that about your hard work, fought back.

The two of you were now editing every single little word of each other's paper. Nothing passed your eyes as suddenly you both became literary geniuses. Grammar and spelling suddenly making sense to you as you destroyed Todoroki’s paper in your hands. No word went unhighlighted. Comments littered the sides of the paper commenting on truly trivial things. Things that weren’t needed to be said. Things that a psychology professor would not care about in the slightest.

There was nothing productive about your comments. With the ticking time falling through your fingers the two of you should be paying greater attention to what you were doing. But the anger, the uncontrollable rage for what was happening was too large, too grand to be ignored.

The two of you were obsessed with every new comment that was made. Your fingers scrolling to the new comment to yell and argue about how the other one was being childish. It was infuriating and you wanted to leave. Fuck Midnight’s random matching machine, that thing had to be broken if it landed on Todoroki.

“I don’t know why I didn’t fight Midnight on why you were my partner.” You growl as you highlight an entire block text of a quote and wrote in that it seemed fictitious and off-topic. “You’re the most immature person I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

“Oh please, I have a niece who’s in her terrible twos and behaves better than you do on a good day.” Todoroki jeers his eyes like ice as he glares at you.

“I’ve met a four-year-old who’s able to write more complete sentences than you!” You sass, your elbows on the study room table, your face leaning in towards his. “You either write run-on sentences or a three-word sentence. Did you ever learn about the subject and predicate of a sentence? I would be more than happy to teach you because it’s obvious you weren’t taught!”

“Honestly, it shocks me that you’re even a STEM major. You want to be what? A doctor? Oh please, you have to be actually smart and a team player. But you? I have never seen you once try to be apart of the team. If it’s not your way, it’s no one's way.”

“Aw, you do know things about me.” You coo, but your words are steely. Your nostrils flare as you lean away. “Don’t even fucking start on me with the team playing. I participate in groups, I fucking love group work. Just because I don’t enjoy doing these things with you doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it at all. You’re not the center of my world.”

I’d beg to differ.” Todoroki coldly smirks, his body shifting closer to yours, and you move in too. Your eyes flash down to his lips that are pulled into a disgustingly attractive smirk. His muscles tensing on his arms. “Tell me, y/l/n, what are the different things the body goes through when you’re attracted to someone. It seems like you don’t fucking know this.”

Your eyes narrow, what was this some fucking test? Of course, you knew! You spent an entire fucking month researching it. Your hand moves to wipe a rolling piece of sweat from your temple. When did it get so damn hot in this cold room?

“The main components of being attracted to someone is summed up in the following physiological states. When attracted to someone, eyes dilate. Bodies sweat more. Bodies become in sync, due to mirroring habits people have when they are high on endorphins. Dopamine levels rise as well as serotonin. Dopamine helps regulate movement, attention, learning, and emotional responses. It also enables us not only to see rewards but to take action to move toward them. Since dopamine contributes to feelings of pleasure and satisfaction as part of the reward system. It also plays a part in addiction. Serotonin in the brain is thought to regulate anxiety, happiness, and mood. The more you have the better your mood. It was also seen that the putamen and the insula light up on an MRI. Indicating that the studied person is experiencing feelings of romantic love, or attraction.” You snark this all while staring him in the eyes.

Your body as tensed as his.

Neither one of you moving.

Neither one of you allowing yourselves to breathe heavily.

“You don’t even fucking see it, do you?” Todoroki growls as he leans back.

You lean back as well, your arms folding. His arms fold.

“See what Einstein? That I fucking know what I’m doing despite what you think? Are you fucking kidding me Todoroki? I deserve to fucking be here even if you hate me! Would you for one moment stop being a complete asshole to me and fucking leave me alone? And people fucking wonder why I hate you,” you hiss leaning in.

Todoroki’s hands slam onto the table. You jump taken off guard due to the loud noise, and you feel your breath stop in your throat as he leans in dangerously close. His face is centimeters away from you, his eyes angry and yet convoluted with something else...

Your eyes widen as your jaw drops slightly, did you finally push him over the edge?

You watch as his own eyes widen slightly he chuckles. The sound is deep, running against your skin in a way that sends chills down your spine as his eyes trail your body.

“Your eyes are dilated right now,” Todoroki observes, his voice low and husky. “You're sweating just the slightest bit, don’t think I didn’t catch you wiping it away. Your body has been moving in sync with my own this entire fucking month. I’m sure your dopamine levels are soaring on account to your attention to me, is your heart racing because of me? Are you anxious? I think you are, which means you have a healthy amount of serotonin in your body. The putamen and the insula make the hate circuit more interesting. Both of these areas light up on an MRI when the person is experiencing feelings of romantic love. So, you tell me, y/l/n, do you actually hate me? Or are you attracted to me?”

Your eyes are wide, Todoroki’s soft yet heavy breathing hits your lips as you continue staring at him. The wide and cocky grin on his face is infuriating, yet stupidly hot. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, anger and fury pumping through your veins as you take in his words again. The knowing laughter that slips from his mouth only further incites your swinging emotions.

“That’s what I thought.” Todoroki determined as he moved to sit back down.

Now you were no idiot. But what you did next was fucking dumb.

Your fingers lashed out, fisting into the collar of his shirt and slammed your lips into a searing kiss against his own.

The windows had been drawn earlier on account of your noisy roommates and friends taking pictures of the two of you fighting. The door was also locked due to that fact, and you were planning on using that to your advantage.

Your lips pressed against his, hot and heavy movements as you pressed further into him. Uncaring, unconcerned about his reaction.

Todoroki groaned softly, his lips moving to keep up with yours. His fingers digging into your biceps as the two of you stood up, leaning over the table as your lips continued this passion-filled battle.

His lips are fervent against yours and your mind spins from having his mouth against yours. Where you really all this time just attracted to him but refused to admit it to yourself? Todoroki’s hands move from your biceps to searching the table, your eyes barely manage to open. They’re heavy with lust, laced with growing desire as your lips part. The books and laptops are taken off the table, leaving the table meant for four students empty and clear. As you come back up from placing your laptop down, Todoroki’s warm hands feel like fire against your heated skin. And you let him pull your face in for another impassioned kiss.

His lips are heavy against yours, pushing and pulling you in with every movement of his lips. He continues pulling you closer and soon enough you’re climbing on top of the table, pants leaving your mouth from the high position of the table as you crawl closer to the boy who was making your heart beat faster than any strenuous activity. As you move closer, his hand runs from your face to rest against your ass. His hands are strong against your ass, and he pulls you nearer so that you’re sitting on the edge of the table, his body between your open legs.

You’re gasping now, sharp breathing as you try to calm your nerves. This man set your mind on fire, and you were drowning in his lips. His mouth dissipating all the anger and hatred you held in mere seconds. Your mouth opens and your tongue swipes at his bottom lip, pleading for entry. Todoroki moves his hands from your ass, trailing down your legs to pull you closer to him, and his mouth opens granting you entry.

Tongues crash together in the middle. Dominance riding high on both of your parts, neither one of you wants to let the other into each other's mouth. But lord, is his tongue working magic against yours. Your body shuddering as your legs wrap against his waist, your crotch pushing forward to grind into his pelvis. His budge is obvious against your clothed core and both of your moans tumble into your mouths.

His hands trail under your shirt and you arch against his chest, and in your moment of serenity, his tongue is able to push into your mouth. You shudder in his hold, his tongue tracing around your mouth in a way that makes your eyes roll back. His tongue runs against your tongue, swirling around it before tracing the roof of your mouth. A moan expels from your mouth as his other hand slips under your shirt. Todoroki laughs, his voice falling on his tongue and you tremble softly.

What the fuck was wrong with you? Making out with Todoroki Shouto in the library study room? There must be something in the air.

Todoroki’s mouth left yours completely, his hot mouth trailing down your neck. His teeth nipping at your skin, his lips sucking against your skin. Your head tosses back in increasing pleasure as your hips press against his bulge again. His mouth stays on the same spot, his mouth sucking harshly against your skin, his teeth biting down sinfully against your skin.

Your arms wrap around his body, pulling him desperately closer to you. The friction not enough, these actions not strong enough for you. “Don’t be a pussy about fucking me.” You can’t keep yourself from stating as Todoroki pulls away from your neck. Your skin throbs from the hickey that has for sure formed.

“Don’t worry,” Todoroki smirks as he lifts your shirt over your head, “I won’t.”

You suck in a sharp breath of air as the cold air hits your exposed body. You feel dirty for wanting to fuck Todoroki. You feel disgusting and delirious for wanting him to claim you right in an often-used library study room. You don’t have time to think anymore as his lips come back to claim your lips. This time, you’re not going to give in as your teeth sink into his bruised lower lip.

The harsh motion of your teeth sinking into his plump and used lips makes him moan. The sound is electrifying to your ears. Your tongue slides back out to soothe over his throbbing lip. Your grin spreading across your face as Todoroki picks you up from the table. Your body shudders as your aroused sex brushes up against his hard cock. His hips thrusting up against your own and you cry out in his mouth. Your own teeth sinking into your bottom lip as Todoroki’s mouth trails down your chin. His teeth brushing against your jaw causing your hips to roll out against him.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you bring your mouth against his neck. Your mouth trails peppering kisses against his strained neck, and your hips grind down against his bulge. “Please take your shitty shirt off, Todoroki.” Your groan as your fingers drag against his muscular back. The muscles delicious against your skin, yet you feel denied, you feel teased at the fact you can feel him better.

Todoroki moans as your heavy and hot breathing makes his mind reel against the cold saliva on his neck. “Call me Shouto, y/n, I think we’re past this last name business.” He growls. The simple use of your name sends a heavy shiver down your spine. You never thought you’d hear him call you y/n and Shouto felt like a stranger on your tongue, but you feel coy as you nod.

You push away, your hair whipping over your shoulder as you stare at his blue and gray eyes. You watch his pupils that are blown wide stare into you as you lean in close. The sweat building slowly on his temple as your mouth pressed against his ear softly.

“Of course, Shouto,” you accentuate his name and he groans.

His hands grip tighter against you as his lips come back against yours.

Your hands reach down for the hem of his shirt and you waste no time in tearing it up over his head. His toned body now exposed for your desiring eyes as you breathe shakily. Maybe you were always attracted to him.

You look at him and a proud blush spreads across your face as he stares at your breasts. You were not at all wearing a cute set, they were simple, black and not revealing. But the way Shouto was looking at you. The way his finger trailed up to your covered bra made you believe that you were wearing the best lingerie set in existence. “Do you like this set?” You tease, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip as you look into his eyes under your eyelashes.

“I think I’ve been the world's biggest idiot for denying you for so long.” Shouto groans as his face pushes forward to kiss your breasts. You feel like you’re melting in his arms as his lips ravish your tender breasts.

“Who says -- fuck -- who says I want you?” You gasp as his mouth continues trailing sweet and hot kisses against your skin. “I’m a wanted woman, you know.”

“Like hell, I’m letting you go now,” Shouto grunts his large hands enveloping your breasts as he gropes them. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to be mine.”

You don’t have the chance to respond back as Shouto’s right-hand moves behind your back and removes your bra with one hand. The smooth action somehow turning you further on. The bra is thrown off your body and your breasts bounce as they’re not entirely exposed. You don’t know how to feel bashful or to feel confident in the way that Shouto stares at your exposed chest. His eyes locked on your breasts, his lips dragging against his teeth as he looks back up at you.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Shouto groans as his mouth slips your nipple into his mouth. You cry out as your hips roll against his crotch again, and you feel him walking forward.

You whine as Shouto sets your back onto the cold surface of the library table. Your pants heighten as he slips off your sweatpants. The cold air hitting your hot legs making you shudder at the temperature difference.

His fingers roll your free nipple between his fingers. The sensations on your nipples overwhelming as your hips thrash against his. Moans and gasps pour out of your mouth as he continues ravishing your breasts. His teeth nipping and pulling on the sensitive skin. Your head throws back as he pulls away, a resonating pop filling your ears as he lets go of your nipple. Harsh heaves leave your mouth as you look down, your breasts shine with his saliva and you moan again.

“I’m going to fucking eat you out, and you’re going to watch me the entire fucking time,” Shouto commands you, his fingers hooking around your panties. “Do you understand?”

Breathlessly you nod your head. Your eyes locking onto his bi-colored ones as your panties join the rest of your clothes on the floor. Shouto chuckles as his finger drags against your soaked slit, “You’re so fucking wet.” Shouto remarks and your body shudders against his actions. Your eyes flutter closed before you force them back open to peer down at Shouto, “Good girl.” He praises and you feel your pussy throbs at those two words.

Shouto presses a hand against your waist and you watch as he sinks two fingers into your blazing heat. You cry out in pleasure as his heated fingers plunge in and out of you. Your eyes struggle to keep themselves onto his proud form. Your hand slaps across your mouth as his fingers curl within you. Their curvature adding even more stimulating pleasure within your body. Melodious moans are now muffled underneath your hands and Shouto sneers at that.

“Don’t hide what I’m making you feel, y/n.” Shouto snaps. His fingers increasing in their roughness as they pound against your soaked pussy. “Don’t you want the world to know that I’m the one making you feel this way?”

Your hand trembles as you move it away from your mouth, but your teeth subconsciously clamp down onto your bottom lip. You’re embarrassed at being caught in the library. Even though you were attracted to Shouto, you didn’t want to be found in this state.

On a public table, legs wide open, and Shouto’s fingers deep into your pussy.

Shouto, unsatisfied with your quiet affirmations of his actions, slips another finger into your aching pussy. A silent shriek leaves your mouth as you push up off the table. The additional width of his thrusting fingers overwhelming.

“Oh,” Shouto laughs smugly, his smile stretching wide across his face. “Did you like that?”

“Yes, you blind fucking idiot!” You thrash against his fingers, your head falling back in your distracting pleasure. The sensations are numbing your mind. Your rationale slipping away as his fingernails drag against your inner walls. Your cunt feels like it’s pulsating faster than your heart as he continues going.

“Aren’t you just a fucking sweetheart.” Shouto purrs and his hand reaches out to lock in your hair. Your head is roughly brought back up, and a low groan of pain rumbles in your throat as you stare at his slightly furious eyes. “Didn’t I say to fucking look at me?”

Your chest heaves in embarrassment and wounded pride. Like hell, you were being dominated by him.

Before you could try wrestling him for dominance, his mouth lowers towards your dripping cunt. His tongue takes a languid and slow lick. His tongue slipping between your slit and you fall back onto the table. Your eyes fluttering in their battle to stay open. Your eyes still locking onto his victorious face.

Your legs tremble as he thrusts his tongue within your drenched walls. His tongue swirling in circles and thrusting further in. His fingers still thrusting into you as you fall apart on the table. On one lick, one measly irresistibly mind-numbing lick, your legs come crashing against his head. Shouto’s free hand moves to grip onto your trembling thighs. His tongue coaxing your orgasm closer to the edge.

“S-Shouto!” You curse, your hips moving desperately against his mouth. Your hips were unforgiving against his merciless tongue.

Your eyes struggle to remain locked on his eyes, your body twitching with the building pleasure. The electricity igniting in your flesh and bloodstream. You can hear the sounds of your squelching pussy against his moving fingers, and your jaw drops. You’re under his absolute control and you're no longer able to hold back anymore as your orgasm is right on the edge, but then he pulls away. His fingers and tongue disappearing from within you. Causing you to whimper in pain, in lust, and in denied orgasm.

“Suck yourself off my fingers.” Shouto pants as his arousal covered fingers press against your mouth. You take his fingers without a second thought. Your teeth scraping softly against his fingers as you suck your juices off of him. Your eyes remain on his as your tongue slips between each finger. You suck onto his fingers as he pulls away and Shouto growls as he pulls his hand away from you.

“Get up.” Shouto snaps, his hands moving to remove the belt around his waist, and you are quick to slide off the table. Your knees buckling under your weight as Shouto removes his pants. You watch in an almost lusting horror as his cock springs out from under his underwear. He was by far the biggest guy you’ve ever seen and your throat feels dry as he gasps. His dick must be hypersensitive already.

Steeling yourself over, you drop to your knees, uncaring that he wasn’t quite ready as Shouto struggles to step out of his pants.

As soon as his feet are free, your hands immediately grab his length. His girth wide enough you struggled to hold it with one hand. You smirked at the fact that he had two protruding veins on both sides of his cock, how typical for this half and half genetic phenonium.

“Y-Y/n…” Shouto stutters as your hand fists up and down his length in pretense. Your eyes snapping up to meet his lust covered ones.

“Now,” You sigh as your thumb rolls over the pre-cum that slips from the tip of his head. “I better not catch you not looking at me, understood?”

Shouto licks his lips, his eyebrow quirking. “I don’t take orders from you.”

You smile softly, but there’s a strong sadistic tone to it as your hands twist his skin. Shouto curses as he nods, “Fine!”

“Good boy," you tease as your mouth opens and you let him penetrate it. His girth so wide you had to open wider than you were used to. You gasp as you push him further down your throat. Your eyes flashing up to see Shouto struggling to keep his head down and eyes wide. Good god, you hope you were wet enough to take him in without lube.

Your mouth sinks down as far as you can go while not straining yourself. Your fingers trailing up and down his toned thighs as you move your head up and down his length. You’re now in a smooth rhythm, sucking his cock with enough vigor to make Shouto curse your name.

Your movements signal to Shouto that he can move as well. Shouto groans and his hips move forward. You relax against his rocking hips, you're focused on your breathing as his cock moves up and down your throat. Deeper and deeper, you feel his cock move within you. His hand pressing against the back of your throat, and you gag softly against his length.

Your eyes look back up to see Shouto’s eyes closed. Moans and pants spilling out with every thrust, and your cheeks hollow out. Creating a vacuum sensation against his length.

“Fucking shit!” Shouto snaps. His hands tangling within your locks as he overtakes your dominance. Shouto then begins fucking your throat without hesitation. “Taking my cock like the dirty slut you are, of course, you would be good at this,” he hisses as his cock only goes further down your throat.

You struggle to breathe with his thrusting. His snapping hips overwhelming you with their speed and depth. He’s barbarous against your throat. Uncaring about the burning sensation erupting through your airway as he continues at his strength and speed. Your tongue swirls around his thrusting cock. Trailing against his veins as his hips stutter.

You moan against his length. The action allowing you to gain more air and sending a snarl from Shouto’s mouth as his pace increases.

His hips abuse your throat, and you’re delighted in the fact that you’re keeping up. The soft gags that occasionally slip from your mouth stirring him on. The hum on your throat allowing him to further his strength and speed as your actions overwhelm him. He’s sinful yet heavenly in your mouth and you want him in your dripping cunt. Your thighs shaking with the mere thought of him having his way with you.

He pulls his length away from your mouth. Your saliva stringing between your mouth and his still erect cock. You cough as you try taking in the air again, the lack of oxygen had been ignored as your pleasure was so high.

However, you don’t have the time to adjust to your new air as Shouto pulls you up from the floor. His mouth once again attacking yours as you find your back pressed against the table. His lips are intoxicating, and you can still taste yourself in his mouth. You moan as he lifts you up on the table again.

“Fuck you’re amazing.” Shouto grunts as his mouth trails down your neck and you shudder. How you craved a man you were ready to beat the shit out of earlier was beyond you. Maybe attraction and hatred ran on a fine line.

“I know I am,” you gasp as he spreads your legs, the tip of his cock stroking your soaked folds.

“I’ll get you to say it when my cock is in you,” Shouto chuckles and you moan at the feeling of the tip of his head sinking into your trembling cunt. “Are you ready?”

Your head nods nevertheless, and you still as he chuckles.

“Say it.”

“Shouto--”

“I want to hear you say it," he interrupts, and you stare into his bi-colored eyes and feel as if you’re drowning in his them. They’re desperate, needy, and full of want. It’s enough to steal your breath away as you nod again.

“Please fuck me.” You whisper, and Shouto smiles.

A shriek crashes through your mouth as he pushes his cock all the way into your awaiting cunt without hesitation. His girth stretches you out in an unimaginable way. Your walls fluttering as they attempt to relax and grow used to his size. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking huge!” You cry as your body trembles as Shouto leans forward. His own breathing a quiet hiss as your walls clench around him.

“I bet I’m the biggest you’ve e-ever had.” Shouto cockily rasps, but his words feel powerless as he is affected by your pulsating walls. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

You whimper as the painful throb in your pussy lulls and you wiggle your hips against him, “N-Now fuck me right. Don’t fucking make me regret giving in.” You gasp as his eyes lock on yours.

There’s something unsaid flowing between the two of you. An agreement, a secret being whispered through your eyes. Three years of frustration and denied attraction. Three years of forced hatred disappearing between your bodies.

Shouto smiles, small and sweet, yet terribly contrasting as he adheres to your demand. His hips position to a better angle, and you can only watch with fluttering eyes as he begins ramming into you. Your hips move in time with his. Both of you desperate under your denied orgasm and this heightened state of pleasure. Shouto’s hands grip your waist. His grip leaving bruised marks as he slams your body faster against his huge cock. He's stretching you out deliciously. His hands drag out under your ass, clenching your supple flesh as this tiny different position stretches you out in a mind-numbing way.

His hips crashing into yours is transcending, and your cries only fuel Shouto on. Your body feels as if it is on fire as he drags a single leg up onto his shoulder. His cock bottoming out into you making your back arch off the table as you wail out his name. Shouto’s heated fingers press against your throbbing clit. You sputter as he rubs harsh and delicate figure-eights onto your puffy nerve. Your pussy is clamping down on his moving cock, slowing him down slightly, before he grunts and increases his speed and strength.

Your noises of pleasure silences as his cock hits the back of your walls, your legs thrashing around as he drilled into you the same way.

Again and again.

More and more.

His cock smashing against your walls until he tilts his angle and comes down hard against your g-spot.

“SHOUTO!!!” You scream as he continues pounding into your g-spot. His name a prayer on your lips as he continues fucking your brains out.

You shoot up off the table, your screams sounding in his ear as you wrap your arms around him. Despite the fact that your leg was on his shoulder, you held on. The angle allowing Shouto to drive his cock against your g-spot over and over again, your screams drowning out as his mouth covered yours. His body is giving you exploding sensations, your tightness making Shouto moan and curse.

“I needa -- fuck yes, baby do that again -- I needa come!” You squeak as your body rocks against his own.

“Come for me, baby.” Shouto sighs into your mouth. “Come around my cock.”

The pleasure in your belly is overwhelming, it's building up so fast, and your toes curl in electrifying pleasure. You can’t handle it anymore, the pleasure being too much.

Your orgasm crashes through you, your vision turning white as your jaw drops as your screams go silent. Shouto’s mouth continues to move against yours, kissing sloppily against your teeth as he chases his own orgasm.

His hips continue slamming into you, they’re brutal as they slam over and over again. He’s chanting your name as your stimulated cunt continues clenching around his length. His pace is making you grow limp in his arms, although your hips still continue to roll against his. His breathing is short and tense. Panting as he struggles to keep himself composed.

“Come inside me…” You whine into his ear, desperate to feel his hot seed expelling within you.

His cock stretches you out in a new way as he presses you back onto the table his arm lifting your second leg over his shoulder. The twin bulging veins on his cock rubbing a fire against your walls. Shouto fucks you mercilessly, his fingers clenching your ass as you come apart for him. Shouto, unable to keep a controlled mind on his shoulder, loses himself within you. His hips drilling forward one last time. A heavy load shooting into your throbbing cunt.

Shaky breathing fills the air as he pulls out of you.

You whine at the lack of him within you, and your body relaxes as he steps back. Your hands pressed against the table as you pant, desperate to find your air again. A whimper on your tongue as you feel your combine cum seeping from your clenching pussy.

“You were amazing.” Shouto chuckles as he leans down next to you.

You moan as you look over at him.

“I can’t believe I let you fuck me in the library without you even buying me dinner…”

“...would you let me buy you dinner one day?”

Your eyes blink as you stare at your rival in front of you. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire as you nod.

“I’d love to…”

You moan softly as his lips press against yours.

You lose yourself in his lips until the reason why you’re in this library to begin with flashes across your mind.

“SHOUTO THE PAPER!”

Bonus!

Everyone stared as you held onto Shouto’s hand as you walked into your psychology class. Everyone was silent as the two of you sat next to each other in the same row you two had claimed as your own.

No one dared to speak as you kept your head down and Shouto, unconcerned about others' opinions, placed his arm around your shoulder.

You’re pretty sure you heard people choking on their air at that fact.

Midnight thankfully strolls in, her hands full of her things as she’s ready to get these presentations over with.

“Thank you to all of you who turned in your papers on time! We only had one pair not do that!” Midnight chirped as she stared at you and Shouto.

There was a spike of restless energy in the room as they all put together quickly that it was top students Todoroki Shouto and you.

“Care to explain to us why it was late, and why you two are suddenly… buddy-buddy?” Midnight grins, her cheeks blushing as she finally was able to bring the two of you together, not that you knew anyways.

Shouto stood up, and your heart beat in your chest as you had no idea what he was going to say.

“We fucked.”

And screams sounded throughout the classroom.

[overseermartin]

hello :) hope it's ok to ask. i saw your post earlier about how martin would've handled things very differently as high overseer [to which i agree!!] and you tagged it with how the coup in dh2 wouldn't have happened altogether if he was still in the picture, sooo any more thoughts on that??!

oh boy do i have some thoughts!!

i wrote a little essay/rant below, read at own risk. 

tl;dr the Abbey is weak and i believe Martin would have made a better High Overseer

So it seems to me that a lot of the issues that led to the coup derive from the Abbey being weak. I get that the successor would have a hard time following Campbell’s corruption of the Abbey (using it for his own agenda, weaponizing faith, poisoning an institution that should be a guiding hand that inspires and protects the people from the Void into something that is feared and hated. I really hate Campbell and what he did to the Abbey okay) and that a lot of effort would have to go into restoring their reputation and building up trust among the people. And although the writers would have us believe Yul did that, I’d say that the fact the coup happened is evidence that he was not a strong leader.

Firstly, Duke Luca Abele is known to have no respect for the Abbey. A ruler of a country that has no faith and openly disdains the Abbey, is not a good look. If the leaders of an Empire are not faithful, it follows suit that the faith of the people will dwindle too. If the Abbey is to be unified against heresy, it is critical that they are at the forefront, standing behind the rulers, offering guidance and support. It is clear that that is not the case with Serkonos. Perhaps there was too much work to be done in Gristol, that Yul was preoccupied with matters closer to home, but again that is the sign of a weak leader. The High Overseer should not be focussed on one nation, one ruler, that is neglectful of the rest of the Empire. Martin would not miss these details. Martin would have intervened and brought the Duke’s lax attitude to faith to the Empress as a threat of heresy, that Luca was showing early signs of leaning toward the Void. Action would be taken. It is truly awful that the Duke of Serkonos was involved in a seance that brought Delilah back and the Abbey did not intervene. 

Secondly, the Brigmore Witches were improperly handled. After Delilah was bound to the Void by Daud, it seems the witches quietly disbanded and dispersed across the Empire. Again, I’m aware that there was a lot going on in this time, with Emily retaking the throne and the plague being dealt with, but even so it should have been properly investigated and the witches found. Maybe not all, but enough to know who the key players are, and to bring them to justice. They have no powers to protect them when interrogated, so it would be easier to pry the truth from them. Breanna Ashworth should have been discovered and imprisoned. Maybe not immediately. Maybe not for years. But it baffles me how she was able to leave Dunwall for Serkonos and start the Royal Conservatory without anyone making the connection of who she is and the things she had done. And again, for her to gather a group of powerful allies to take part in a seance, is evidence that the Abbey failed to protect the people from heresy yet again. 

I know I’m biased as a die-hard Martin stan; but I truly believe he would have been a fantastic High Overseer. Let’s not forget who was behind the Loyalists plot. Martin was behind every movement they made, every speech that Havelock listed off to Corvo before missions, it all came from Martin. He accounted for everything, missing no detail, and planned accordingly. He really was a master strategist. He would have led the Overseers with that same precision.

I headcanon Martin as being an Overseer who hunts out heresy, like the kind that investigates rumours and sniffs out shrines and bonecharms among the populace. He was stationed in the Estate District where he runs a small chapel, he delivers sermons and is a guiding voice for the faithful. He hold confessions and utilises this as a way to extract information and gather material for his investigations. It’s a role that is certainly weaponised by Campbell, a way to control the nobility, as it is so easy to plant heretical artifacts and have them imprisoned and (probably) killed for heresy. But it is one that Martin thrives in; he’s a charmer, it’s so easy to win people over and get them exposing all kinds of secrets. And his sharp mind would piece together a strategy to overcome any task he is set to, utilising every tool at his command, until the job is done. Martin “who knows everyone” has an intricate network of informants that would rival the Spymasters. Nothing is out of reach for him. With the title of High Overseer, he would be unstoppable.

So while I think Martin would have snuffed out any whispers of a coup before it even began, I also think he would have been better prepared for the attack of any Marked. Holger’s Devices would not have been broken down and put in storage (seriously? After a Marked killed the previous Empress? And another Marked almost took the mind of the current Empress? How does Corvo let that happen? Why does he relax and arrogantly believe Emily would be safe from another like him? Why have no precautions been put in place????) and instead further developed and improved. The Abbey is based on harnessing the power of man until it rivals that of the chaotic will of the Void (and it’s embodiment, the Outsider), I’ve said before about how incredible the existence of these devices is, and what that means for mankind. But if the Abbey can do that, then they can certainly do more. Seriously, a technology that protects against a god? That’s incredible. More of that line of thinking, and who knows what the Abbey could be capable of. Imagine a world where the Abbey is united with the Academy of Natural Philosophers? THE POSSIBILITIES??

If Martin had survived and continued to be High Overseer, not only do I think the coup would never have happened, I think the Empire would be stronger and more united than we see it in Dishonored 2. And I don’t think it would be down to Martin alone, I also think Daud would have made a fantastic Spymaster, which would greatly help with all of the above. Corvo should never have been Regent, Lord Protector, and Royal Spymaster combined. One man cannot do three jobs and do them well. Corvo failed the Empire with his arrogance and his complacency. 

Wow this got really long, I am so sorry this is not what you asked for. I hope this rant made sense! I love Dishonored but I am not a fan of the following games, so I may have overlooked or oversimplified plot points that contradict this. 

But hey - this is just my opinion, I would love to hear yours!! 

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Grey Eyes

This is in response to a prompt I received:

camryn-bria I have a Linzin headcanon that there is a secret (airbending) child.  Could you write a one-shot of Tenzin finding out Lin is pregnant after breaking up with her.

I’ll probably put in a better summary, tags or notes later on. But hope you enjoy this 😊 

(So I had too much fun (maybe) with this and it ended up being a two-parter rather than a one-shot, hope this is okay)

Lin/Tenzin pre-canon fanfic | 1 of 2

 Legend of Korra

---

Despite what the public thought, Chief Toph Beifong was not a heartless person.

While truly a strong woman, it did not mean she did not have emotions. Family and friends played a huge role in occupying a space in her heart.

Family.

It was precisely because of family why she was pacing in front of the doctor’s examination room.

Toph closed her eyes in worry.

Of her two daughters, Lin was the one most like her.

Her youngest daughter, Suyin, at her current state, probably was who her own mother wanted her to be.

Initially scoffed at and at the brink of being of being disrespected, Toph Beifong later on was reputed to be one of the toughest police chiefs that the region has even had.

She had welcomed her daughter during her second year as a police chief of Republic City. The father, unfortunately, passed.

Lin’s father was Toph’s fellow detective. Toph had just given birth to her and was out of the force when Kanto responded to a call. He was hit and he died.

Since then, Toph promised herself that it would simply not do to miss time at work.

The first few months of raising Lin were particularly difficult. She had then elected to live near her married friends, Aang and Katara.

Toph took it hard – spent time away from Lin for the next months and sent her to Air Temple Island. She eventually got back to her senses, realizing her daughter needed her and had reached back to take care of Lin.

Lin always wanted to be like her mother and the father she barely met. Suyin, on the other hand, well, that was another story.

“Mom.”

Toph’s reverie was interrupted by the soft voice of her eldest child.

“Oh, Lin.”

In Lin’s hand was an ultrasound photo of a child, Lin took her mother’s hand and read out to her the notes on the photo.

Indeed, Lin was the child most like her mother.

 ---

What was he doing here? He has some nerve.

“Aunt Toph?

She tried to ignore the tall bald man in her office.

“Aunt Toph?”

Persistent little bugger, eh?

“That’s Chief Beifong to you.” She felt him squirm and fidget. “The citizens desk is on the other floor. Or have you gotten lost?”

“I, uh, no. I actually wanted to see Lin.”

“Captain Beifong, you mean.”

She felt him flinch. Good.

“I -.”

“Don’t you worry your bald head about it, Master Tenzin.” Aspersion dripping with every word. “Captain Beifong is away on suspension. She won’t be bothering you any time soon.”

“But – no! I didn’t come here to complain or file charges.” Toph could here the shock at Tenzin’s voice. “You didn’t have to – she didn’t need to be suspended!”

Chief Beifong ignored him. “Captain Beifong caused destruction to property – Air Temple Island’s reconstruction will be done soonest – and basically threatened you, a government official. She would have received worse.”

“But -.”

“Is there anything else, Councilman?”

“Uhm, no. I’ll just drop by Lin’s.”

“She not there,” Toph felt the airbender pause at her door. “She’s suspended until further notice; and she been sent away from Republic City.”

 ---

At least that was what the press was informed, to explain away the disappearance of a prominent person

But internally, with the higher ups in the Republic City Police Department, they knew differently. They were told that she was out undercover and they better not try to make contact – or there will be consequences.

Toph was proud of her daughter’s strategy. She had been an absentee mother in the past years. She wanted to make up for it by supporting Lin’s decisions.

Even if it meant no contact with her in the next months.

 ---

Lin found herself in a remote Earth Kingdom town which used to be a Fire Nation colony. She had come to this place years ago in a recon mission and had known that there were a good mix of nations, making it easy to blend in.

Her current mission was not anything dangerous – just another reconnaissance mission to look into whether there was some truth to the formation of a new organization similar to the New Ozai Society, who would seek to undermine the United Republic.

As someone fresh out of her 20s, Lin thought she was (or she should be) fit enough for the job at the local bar. Thankfully, she was able to convince the barkeep to hire her even after telling him of her predicament (she wondered if maybe the man really just needed help so badly). She also figured it was a good place to get in with the locals and, well, the local gossip.

Lin opted to keep her first name (common as it was anyway), rented a small apartment unit walking distance from the city center, and now, had landed a job  (that hopefully placed her in a good spot to fulfill her mission) which paid adequate wages.

She felt she was prepared to start anew – a new job, a new mission, and a baby on the way.

 ---

Tenzin huffed as he consulted his map.

He had gone to Gaoling, to the Beifong ancestral home (that was were Suyin was sent there before anyway. But Lin wasn’t there.

He even went out of his way and chanced a visit to Zaofu.

Su was surprised to see him and, no, she has not seen or talked to her sister in years.

Instead, the airbender got a slap for his efforts (“You idiot! You broke my sister’s heart!” “You weren’t even talking to her! You don’t know what’s with her.” “I knew enough to know that she loves you!”).

He tossed the map aside. He was stumped; he didn’t know where else to look for Lin.

He did not even notice his mother, watching from the doorway of his study, looking at him with concern.

 ---

“Hey, get away from him!”

“Eh! And what’re you gunn’ do ‘bout that lady?”

“I’ll show you!”

“What the -!”

“Scram!”

“Alright, we’re going – we’re going!”

The earthbender turned to the young man on the ground (maybe late teens or early twenties in age, she guessed) who was of Water Tribe ethnicity. “Hey kid, are you okay?”

“I’m fine – didn’t need your help.” The man grumbled, standing up and dusting himself.

“Right.” The woman stated, obviously not believing it as she had just walked across the scene of several benders pulling up by his collar, whether they were mugging him or not, she did not wait to find out before launching some rocks from the road at the thieves. “Of course, you didn’t need help. You had it all in control, didn’t you?” She deadpanned.

The man rolled his eyes. “A truth seer, aren’t you?”

She crossed her arms. “Maybe.”

“No – I don’t think so.” The water tribe man shook his head. “Thanks though.”

The earthbender extended to shake his hand.

“Lin.”

He clasped it with his own.

“Noatak.”

 ----

Months passed and Tenzin had not lost hope in finding Lin, but he had to admit that the hope was fast dwindling.

Twice Chief Beifong had said that Captain Beifong’s whereabouts were none of his business and that she will put his sorry ass in jail if he pried once more.

Neither Chief Beifong or anyone from his family shared any input to the media as to his relationship status. The disappearance of Lin Beifong and the sudden reconstruction of some of the pavilions at Air Temple Island made up much of the chatter and gossip though.

His cheerless disposition just about confirmed everything anyway.

 ---

Meanwhile, in the Earth Kingdom, Lin finally gathered enough courage to send out a letter to Tenzin. She had used a post office’s box from two towns away to ensure that he would not be led directly to her should he decide to respond.

After contemplating on the matter for the past months, and after finally admitting to herself, she decided to give Tenzin the option to be a father to their child.

It was the least she could do. She did not want her (their) child to grow up without a father if he was willing to be there. She knew, she grew up with, the alternative to that.

We may no longer be together, but it does not change the fact that this child is yours as well. I’m giving you this chance – to either declare this child as your own or to simply ignore and disregard this. I am fully capable of raising this child as my own so I am open to giving you an out.

Well then, so the proverbial ball was in the airbender’s court.

Gently, placing a hand on her now visible pregnant belly, Lin knew the waiting game has started.

 ---

In an ill-conceived attempt to raise his spirits, the Air Acolytes of Air Temple Island saw it fit to host a birthday celebration for him. His mother had given it a go signal as she was also at her wits’ end to help bolster his mood. Even the passing of her husband (his father) did not seem to have dragged him down this way.

What Katara did not know, however, was that the press had somewhat managed to get in with the festivities as well.

The papers for the next few days ran a feature on the last airbender’s birthday celebration. They also printed a picture of him with just about any single female he talked to during the party.

This was followed by a steady stream of letters and messages poured into Air Temple Island as well as into Tenzin’s office at city hall.

The first few letters, Tenzin had deigned to read.

But after the seventeenth letter, the airbender, with a furious blush on his skin, went to the kitchen where his mother was calmly instructing an acolyte for tonight’s dinner.

“Mother!”

Katara dismissed the acolyte before turning to her son. “What is it?” She held out her hand to take one of the letters that Tenzin was waving at her.

The waterbender briefly went through the letter. It appeared that –

“They have been sending me propositions!” Tenzin exasperatedly explained, showing the envelopes with addresses coming from different parts of the world. “Ever since the broadsheets and tabloids have been putting in these features about me being single.” He continued to pace in the kitchen while Katara went through the other letters. The content was fairly similar – a Fire Nation noble offering his daughter in marriage, an Air Acoylte from the Eastern Temple sharing her daughter’s knowledge of all things Air Nomad culture, an Earth Kingdom merchant living in the upper ring boasting of his niece… “I’m not interested in any of these, Mother. I just – I just -.” He took a deep breath. “I need to find Lin. It’s only been Lin.”

Katara could believe that.

“I know – Mother, if letters come to the island for me, please send it to my office. I’ll have my secretary handle them.”

And with that, Tenzin swept away, leaving Katara to only wonder and hope that whatever he thought of would truly help him out.

 ---

I see.

So he has made his choice.

Lin gripped tightly the letter she received in response to the one she had sent.

She tried but there was nothing she owed him now.

The earthbender then tossed the letter into her drawer, to be hidden from prying eyes, to try and forget its existence.

 Thank you for your interest but I already have a life partner.

I would like to request for your respect in this avenue and refrain from sending any more letters in this similar vein.

Respectfully yours,

Tenzin

 ---

Noatak knocked on the door one more time.

Lin was nearing her due date and the barkeep had place a notice for a reliever, a substitute while Lin was out.

The Water Tribe man took the opportunity – he had been juggling different jobs in town anyway so what’s one more?

Lin had been showing the ropes to him the past few days and was always ever so prompt so that they have enough time before opening.

This was why he stood at her front door now. The earthbender failed to show up at their regular time and so he worried.

“Lin? Are you there?”

There was no answer.

Something felt very wrong.

He looked to the left and looked to the right. No one was around and so putting his entire weight on it, he hit his shoulder against the door several times until it gave way.

“LIN!”

To his shock and horror, the pregnant lady slumped unconscious at her living room, blood surrounding her at the floor.

Noatak hurried to her, feeling her pulse and closing his eyes.

He had been hiding a secret for so long, no one knew in this new life he had been living. As far as they knew, he was a non-bender – no one had paused to ask, except this woman who had asked him and had graciously not pried further when he said he did not want to talk about his past. He knew she was trying to start a new life, but he wasn’t sure why. She respected him enough as well to leave him to his privacy.

That day when the muggers had almost done him in, he thought that would have been the end of it, revenge be damned. To his surprise, someone did intervene for him.

Enough reminiscing for now though, because now, this woman needed him.

Taking a deep breath, Noatak reached forward his arms, allowing him to feel the push and pull from the two lives in front of him, not in the way his father wanted him to but to save these lives.

 ---

Tenzin was absentmindedly tapping his pen on today’s agenda in the council meeting.

The monotony of his responsibilities to the city barely weighed on him now.

It was the same old routine at the council.

His interest was peaked when the doors opened and a man, who he recognized as Chief Beifong’s trusted secretary, hurried over to the Chief of Police���s side, whispering quickly.

Toph Beifong suddenly stood up, muttering her excuses to the rest of the attendees of the council meeting and left (something about an urgent matter regarding one of her subordinates’ mission?).

 ---

“Chief, it would appear that the Captain has now given birth to a daughter.”

“What! I need to get to her.”

“Unfortunately, protocols still state that no contact be made -.”

“But I’m her mother.”

“Please, Chief Beifong, Captain Beifong explicitly indicated that in her report as well. Everything is okay and not to let you go to her as it would impact her cover.”

Nonetheless, this did not stop Toph Beifong from instructing her secretary to send off a large box of baby things to a remote town in the Earth Kingdom.

 ---

The last airbender quickly made his way out of the restaurant where that farce of a stilted family dinner (that his mother insisted on) was still on-going.

It had been uncomfortable enough when Chief Beifong arrived, nary a word towards him but quite civil with his mother and their visitors. At some point during the meal, the Fire Lord started to pass around photographs of his teenaged grandson and even Chief Beifong was obliged to share photos of her own grandchildren.

Tenzin tried to ignore the longing gaze his mother had on the photographs.

He met the eyes of his brother, who coincidentally was stationed this week near Republic City, who in turn shrugged back at him.

Yeah, that’s not happening. Unless someone comes forward to speak up about the fruits of Bumi having sown his wild oats, their mother would need to wait a little longer to have her own grandchild.

“And who might this be?” His mother brought up a photo of a baby.

“Did Su have another child?” Fire Lord Zuko peered at the small plastic booklet that Toph had fished from her uniform’s pocket.

“Eh?” Toph reached out to get it back, fingers running through the little indentions at the edge, helping her identify the labels on the photos.

Tenzin did not miss the quick panic that showed on the metalbender’s face before it was back to her inscrutable expression.

“It’s an old photo of one of her boys.” She promptly placed the booklet of photos back into her pocket. “I must have taken it by accident.”

As the rest went about their meal, Tenzin could not help but revert to the photograph of the baby. The baby appeared to be a couple of months old and…there was something that was niggling the back of his head about the child.

Conversation went to work, the new policies in the United Forces, the statue of Fire Lord Zuko in Republic City… They were all pleasantries that Tenzin did not want to talk about.

As soon as it was acceptable, he had excused himself from dinner, citing an urgent deliverable from city hall. No one tried to stop him and everyone took it at face value. He had, after all, buried himself into work in the past months in between trying to look for Lin. The airbender simply did not believe anymore that she was merely suspended from the Force after being absent for more than a year now.

Tenzin thought that Suyin Beifong, by now, would have an idea as to her sister’s whereabouts. Recalling their last interaction, however, he rubbed his cheek gingerly in recollection, he felt he needed to soften her up first.

Coming from that awkward dinner conversation, he had an idea.

Her children!

 And that was how the airbender found himself at the nearest open store that catered to mothers that carried items (food, clothes, furniture, you name it) for their children.

Tenzin had a vague recollection on how old Su’s children were. He was unsure, though, as to what do kids at those age need or want. He figured that the store’s clerk would know and headed to the store’s counter, waiting until the clerk finished assisting two ladies in selecting the best bassinet that the store offers.

The airbender leaned on the glass counter, tapping absentmindedly as he was wont to do when waiting --- when he saw a brown box just behind the counter hidden from view of the common customer (it just so happened he was tall and nosy enough to see it). There was a small sticky note that caught his attention:

Monthly order of Chief Beifong.

Why on earth would Aunt Toph have a monthly order at this place when her own children have long since grown up?

Tenzin twisted his neck to peer at the label of the box, to check the address, thinking that maybe it was headed to Zaofu for Suyin and her kids.

To his confusion, it was to a place within the Earth Kingdom.

Tenzin froze.

What if…it was to another daughter and grandchild?

The photograph!

He now realized what bothered him – the baby in the photo was relatively fair-skinned and he was sure both of Su and Baatar’s children were tanned. Su was also not pregnant back when he last saw her so it could not have been a new Zaofu Beifong baby.

Toph Beifong would be hard-pressed to care about children or babies unless they were related to her.

This left Tenzin with only one plausible explanation.

 The airbender then left the store, hurriedly making plans to get to the Earth Kingdom by the next day.

 ----

And there she was – as radiant as the last time he saw her (never mind that it was in the middle of the unleashing of her powerful fury upon his childhood home).

With a pang, Tenzin saw Lin Beifong carrying a baby, accompanied by a tall (and very young, Tenzin thought unpleasantly) man who appeared to be of Water Tribe descent. The two were engrossed in conversation that they missed the airbender who had been staring after them.

Tenzin had arrived at the town square and was about to head to the address he had committed to memory when he saw Lin. He was about to approach her when the Water Tribe man intercepted her. The airbender noted the familiarity with which the two interacted (it felt like the air was being squeezed out of his lungs). The man offered to take what Tenzin assumed to be a baby bag and Lin had easily acquiesced.

He surreptitiously followed Lin, unsure where they were going but not wanting to take the risk of losing sight of the earthbender he had been searching for quite some time now.

As he watched every exchange of the two, Tenzin could not help but feel at a loss. He had tried to think of every possible scenario, of what he would say, what he would do once he found Lin.

But none of the scenarios he imagined prepared him for the reality.

He never did imagine finding Lin as a mother.

He never did imagine finding Lin with a partner.

And she looked – content.

Tenzin felt a pit form at the bottom of his stomach. Could he – should he – possibly ruin this with his appearance?

Call him selfish but…he’ll try just one last time. If there was an inkling, of the slightest chance of a future with Lin --- he’ll gamble it.

For himself. For Lin.

 ---

“Jinora, sweetheart, be a good girl for Noatak first, please? Mama needs to work for a bit.”

The eight-month-old child burrowed herself further into her mother’s arms but nodded nonetheless. “Good girl.” Lin gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead as the younger man hoisted the child, anchoring her to his hip.

Lin had gone back to work on a part-time basis, but more on the management side of the bar (accounting, menu planning, etc) rather than being actually behind the counter, serving the customers like before. The barkeep was pleased with Noatak’s performance during Lin’s maternity leave that he had decided to hire him full-time.

They would usually come to the bar before opening hours, Lin to check on the previous night’s accounting and Noatak with preparing with the rest of the crew.

Lin was scheduled to start with the local bookstore soon on her off-days from the bar.

Today, it was accounting morning at the bar. She would usually be able to have an hour or two of continuous work while the crew would take turns looking after her daughter if she were awake. If not, Jinora would be placed on her sling and Lin could still comfortably work.

Getting out several folders and her writing implements, Lin pulled out a chair near the window, preferring the natural light while working.

She managed to work for around ten minutes when a shadow fell on her work; before she could even raise her head to address who or what was blocking her light, she turned her head to the inner part of the bar as she heard her name being called.

“Liiiin!”

 ---

When he saw the Water Tribe man leave Lin with the child, Tenzin saw his chance.

He took some time to deliberate though; he observed her quietly, soaking in his view of the woman he had let go (and would be claiming back, if she would have him).

He took a bracing breath and entered the bar.

“Lin!”

Lin would look up at him. “Tenzin! What are you doing here?”

He would kneel – “I’m so sorry Lin, I know you have a child, I’ll love her like she were my own – I promise to treat you better than Mr Water Tribe there. Please Lin Beifong please – I regret letting you go, if you’ll have me, I’ll want to spend the rest of my life proving my devotion to you. Please- Lin please.”

Then Lin would get up, maybe give him a slap harder than what Su gave him then give him a hug before making him work for it.

Before he could even say a single word to put his imagined scenario into action, another voice (that he was starting to dislike) rang out.

“Liiiin!”

“Yes, Noatak?” Lin stood up quickly to address the young man, who was carrying a giggling baby at arm’s length. “What is it? How is Jinora?”

Tenzin felt his heart skip a beat, that Lin named her daughter one of the names he wanted for their daughter… well, he was not sure how he felt about it. Maybe he will explore it a little bit more when he was alone but for now…

“I know I helped bring her into this world –,”

Tenzin blinked at the sudden hurt he felt at his chest at this.

“But please, Lin – take your evil spawn away from me.” Noatak thrusted the still giggling child dramatically back at her mother, half kidding and half exasperated. “You know how much time it takes me each more to fix my hair. Then this little girl here,” He tickles her side and Jinora squeals with laughter. “Decides to blow a gust of air to my face – imagine that!”

The airbender heard this and froze.

“I know you said this brat (“My daughter isn’t a brat!”) is part-Water Tribe,” He gestured to his now unkempt hair. “But I don’t think this is a sign of respecting her culture?”

“My daughter is acting fine.”  Jinora kicked her chubby legs as though to prove a point, disturbing the dust on the floor. “And we did discuss this – no training until she’s older. I want her to have a normal childhood.”

“Ok then,” Noatak waved his hand and nodded, obviously agreeing. “Anyway, I’m in charge of family meal today so I better start prepping.” With one last tickle at the baby’s side, he left and headed to the kitchen.

Lin shook her head and called after him “I’ll pack up and get back to the books later!” It would seem her daughter was in a mood today.

Speaking of meals…

Jinora had been tugging at her chest. “Feeding time is it?”

 Tenzin watched Lin smile softly at the baby, a smile he saw rarely, a smile that he only saw between the dark of the night and daybreak, in between sleep and wakefulness as they laid in bed together.

He cleared his throat to remove a lump that was forming, a signal of impending tears.

Lin had forgotten about the newcomer as she angled the baby go position her for feeding when she heard someone clear their throat.

“I’m sorry, how can I help –,” Her eyes met familiar grey ones. “You.”

 ---

There was a lot to take in.

The Earth Kingdom.

Lin.

The Water Tribe man (Noatak, he spat.)

Lin.

The baby.

The airbending baby.

Jinora.

There was no doubt on whose child Lin was carrying.

Tenzin pushed forward at the surprised earthbender to take them (her and their daughter!) into his arms.

----

Note: This is part one of two --- ooor we could end it there? 🤷🏼‍♀️ Let me know!

(how do you tag people anyway?? @camryn-bria

---

2 of 2 here.

[treeni]

Count Down for What?

Day 2 of Soulmate September

Prinxiety

Wordcount: 4918

TW: Swearing, it wouldn’t be a darkside pov from me without it. Anxiety attack. Heights?

Summary: Virgil hates waiting, can’t stand it really. He can’t even deal with a timer counting down in a video game, much less to one counting down to one of the biggest changes in his life... meeting his soulmate.

Archive Link

Tumblr Masterpost

taglist: @tsshipmonth2020

“Wake up Virgey!” a cheery voice called, ripping away the blanket he was snuggling into.

Bitch.

Virgil kept the thought to himself as he glared up at a freckled face with too wide of a grin for this early in the morning. Patton was his best friend in the world, but no one should be alive at this time in the morning, much less that cheery. He burrowed further into his pillow and pulled his knees up to his chest to conserve the warmth that had been stolen from him.

“Oh come onnnnn, time to get up! You have a big day Virgey! You’re never gonna meet your soulmate just lying there!” Patton exclaimed, grabbing hold of Virgil’s tucked wrists as he started to lean backwards, pulling him away from his comfort source.

“That’s kinda the point Pat,” Virgil grumbled and shook him off, but conceded to the fact that he would not be returning to his bed. If he tried Patton would start pulling out the big stops, like the time he poured a glass of ice water on him after he tried to sleep his way through his own unsurprising surprise party.

“Come on! Lo’s already got coffee on in the other room!” Patton exclaimed, linking their hands and leading Virgil out of the bedroom with a flourish.

Virgil let out a lengthy groan to make it abundantly clear how he felt about the situation that didn’t stop even as he entered the kitchen. Logan just rolled his eyes at Virgil and Patton’s entrance and wordlessly handed Virgil a cup of coffee, effectively getting him to finally shut up. Virgil sipped at his sweet, sweet lifeblood and tried not to make a face as Patton pecked Logan on the lips as he slipped past to make breakfast. Patton and Logan were in roommates, sure, but there was something too pragmatic about their relationship. It reminded him a little of his parents. Then again, he supposed that was just what happened when you find your soulmate at the age of six. Patton and Logan had been inseparable long before Virgil ever knew them. They were so connected at the hip that the only reason Patton and Virgil ever became friends at all was because Logan was an overachiever who both double majored and double minored in university, which suddenly left Patton with an immense amount of time by himself that he had never had before. Logan insisted he try to make friends to fill in some of the gaps so he wouldn’t feel so alone.

Cue a soft boy looking around the university courtyard with big lost eyes as he turned from group to group, looking for a place for himself. Then there was Virgil, barely paying attention as he scrolled tumblr on his phone between classes. Still, something about the dejected look behind big round glasses had Virgil moving from his favorite spot in the courtyard’s tree to jump down. He landed next to the boy who in turn let out a shriek as Virgil dusted off his jeans and straightened his hoodie.

“Hey,” Virgil remembered muttering so many years ago. “Let’s get some coffee.”

“O-Okay,” was the only response he had gotten back at the time as the lost boy followed him without another word.

It turned out that Patton didn’t even drink coffee. Still, they had been best friends ever since.

Why couldn’t that have been his life changing moment? He would have more then happily been platonic soulmates with his pattycake. He still put his foot down and swore that Logan and he had their timers somehow switched because the sweetheart was definitely his soulmate and he refused to hear otherwise. Logan always let out an annoyed huff when he argued it, but the stretched smile on Patton’s face always made it worth it for him to risk Logan’s ire.

“Virgil, this is supposed to be a good thing!” Patton insisted, taking Virgil’s hand in his own and squeezing it compassionately. “You’re going to meet someone wonderful! Someone who’ll change your life forever!”

“That’s what I’m afraid of!” Virgil insisted and pulled his hand away and cradled it close to his chest as if burned.

Patton and Logan shared a look as Virgil curled his limbs in on himself. His touch aversion only made an appearance when he was really becoming anxious. He heard some clanging in the kitchen for a moment before a large glass of ice water was set in front of him and his coffee was pushed away. Logan squatted in front of him, with a hand on the kitchen table to get to reach similar eye levels.

“Breathe Virgil. It is alright. Being nervous is completely normal,” Logan murmured in soothing tones as Patton watched helplessly from the side. Logan was always better at diffusing Virgil’s panic attacks. “Do you need me to run through the exercises with you?”

Virgil thought for a moment and shook his head no. Still, he accepted the glass of ice water Logan pushed in his direction and took a large sip. The cold helped shock his brain out of the spiral.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Virgil groaned, his head in his hands. He wasn’t really. He was still panicking, but it was more controlled now. Still, the splitting headache rising to his temples wasn’t helping anything.

“May I retrieve anything for you?” Logan asked as Patton finally braved reaching over and rubbing Virgil’s shoulder sympathetically. They both seemed pleased when Virgil didn’t immediately shrug off the touch, even if Logan frowned when he shook his head with a definite ‘no.’

Sometimes it felt like they were practicing on him for when they eventually adopted a kid to complete their white picket fence familial unit. The weirdos.

Then again, it was nice when Patton baked him cookies. Even Logan checking in about his sleeping habits wasn’t so bad really. They’d really make great parents someday to some lucky as fuck kids.

Patton and Logan shot him worried looks as he suddenly went stiff and Patton pulled his hand away before Virgil bolted.

Oh god.

Was he in the way?

Was that why they were so insistent on him finding his soulmate? So he’d leave? Did they want him to leave so they could get their all-American dream and adopt their 2.5 kids?

“Hey, hey, hey Viregy-” Patton started in a whisper, his hand hovering just inches away ready to give comfort in a moments notice. “What’s wrong? What happened? Are you okay?”

“Not so many questions at once Patton,” Logan chided. “Virgil, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”

Virgil swallowed and looked up, still able to see Logan’s blue eyes despite his glasses reflecting Virgil’s own pathetic expression. He choked out a breath and was able to mutter out, “Cherry Garcia.”

“What movie did we watch last night?”

“...Stardust... You picked it.”

Logan nodded. “As a compromise that you and Patton would both enjoy. What day is it?”

Virgil deadpanned. “I barely know what day it is when I’m in a normal state of mind.”

Logan smirked and patted his shoulder before pushing the ice water back his way. “I see you’re feeling better.”

Virgil accepted the water and took another long drink.

Bitch.

He was just so done with the day already and he hadn’t even had breakfast.

From there it seemed that Logan and Patton had collectively decided the best thing was to give him some space as the two took their places at the counter to work through cooking their meal together. Some days Virgil would help, but he was certain if he tried today Patton would shoo him away. He wasn’t really in the state of mind for it anyway and was happy to stay just where he was and stare at the slowly dwindling clock counting down on his wrist.

Just a few hours now.

Breakfast was a short affair. Eggs and sausage were placed in front of him as the loving couple took their usual seats next to one another at the other side of the table. He was sure it was all delicious, but he had to convince himself it didn’t all taste like cardboard as his mind continued to reel. Everything was going to change today.

Everything was going to change.

He wasn’t ready.

“Maybe I should go to work,” Virgil said as he picked up his plate from the table and took it to the sink. The least he could do as a good roommate was to take care of the dishes. “Remy’s always complaining we don’t have enough staff as it is.”

“Did you not specifically put in for vacation today?” Logan asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah, but-”

“Oh! Do you think Virgil already knows his soulmate? Could it be a coworker?” Patton asked and practically had stars in his eyes at the question.

“While the familiarity might help Virgil with the shock. All of the documented cases I’ve seen show them not previously knowing each other before at least the day the timers are set for. However, there’s still so much that’s unknown about the phenomena that it is difficult to say anything for certain.”

Virgil chewed his bottom lip as he took Patton and Logan’s dishes too. Anything to keep his hands busy.

“Maybe I’ll go into town...” he muttered to himself.

“Oh! I can see it now, you bump into your soulmate, the two of you drop all of your bags and your clocks reach zero just as you both touch hands while reaching for the same thing!”

“You know Pat, I think I’ve read that fanfiction. One of yours?” Virgil asked with a snort.

“It will be now,” Patton said, sticking his tongue out at Virgil from the other side of the kitchen island.

Virgil just mimicked him before throwing some of the soap suds at his cheeky friend.

“You’re both pretty,” Logan deadpanned with a huff at their antics before standing and wrapping his arms around Patton’s middle.

Logan nuzzled his nose just under Patton’s ear and Virgil watched his best friend simply melt under the ministrations.

“I am certain that whatever Virgil decides to do, everything will work out,” Logan said gently and kissed Patton’s forehead. “After all, he knows he will always have us, correct?”

Virgil squirmed when he realized Logan had gazed directly his way when asking that last question.

Fucking mind reader.

“Always!” Patton declared cheerily in agreement, seemingly unaware of Logan and Virgil’s silent conversation.  

The rest of the morning went by fast after that. Virgil tried his best not to draw his hoodie sleeve because every glance at the countdown timer on his wrist only reignited his anxiousness. Patton eventually had to rush off for work, but pushed a packed lunch into Virgil’s hands on the way out before kissing Logan goodbye.

Yep. Absolute parents.

Virgil stuck it on the table by the door and paced their apartment a few more times.

If he moved out, they’d have an extra bedroom available for a kid.

His stomach turned as he tried to push that thought out of his mind. Logan said they wanted him here.

Logan didn’t lie.

He sighed and eventually let himself collapse against the couch. He was already exhausted and he hadn’t even left the apartment yet. A few minutes later Logan saw fit to join him, book in hand and the two sat quietly with only the occasional sound of turning pages filling the silence. Virgil could not stop himself from staring down at his wrist, even through his hoodie. He’d catch himself staring, rip his gaze away and zone out with his gaze aimed in the general direction of the wall, only for the process to repeat again.

“You know, the timer will continue regardless of how long you stare at it.”

Virgil gave Logan what he was sure was a pained look before finally giving in to pulling the sleeve back as they both inspected the decreasing numbers.

Just over four hours now.

“I’m just... I’m not ready Lo,” he said holding up his wrist showing the timer that would not stop. “This will change everything and I just... I just can’t.”

“It does not have to,” Logan said, setting the book aside. “Think of it simply as an opportunity for change. You do not have to accept it. Maybe you meet someone, maybe you do not, you may even find it is someone you cannot abide at this point in your life. You can always leave the situation. Call me if you need an escort if things go sour and please keep me updated on where you go. This is always your home first and foremost, regardless of what happens. If you cannot fit any person you meet into the life you want to live, then simply turn around and come back home. Nothing has to change.”

Virgil stared at square framed glasses stupefied. That wasn’t something he was expecting to hear.

“However-” Logan started, as his expression took on an unusual wistfulness. “I cannot imagine what life would be like without Patton in it. A life devoid of joy I am certain is most likely. Patton reminds me how to live rather than simply exist. You should know better than most though what I mean when I say so. He brings laughter and love in a way that makes me proud to be his partner each and everyday.”

Virgil felt like he was sucker punched in the chest. Logan never spoke like that.

“He says I bring him joy too, though I cannot imagine how. Still... Patton just wants you to have that same sort of happiness Virgil.”

“I...” Virgil started. “I am happy.”

Logan just smiled and squeezed his shoulder as he stood up. “Just remember. This is an opportunity, not a contract. You always reserve the right to say no and I can promise you that you will always have a place here. I will push no further however, whatever you decide to do Patton and I will support you.”

“Where am I even supposed to go?” Virgil huffed out to Logan’s retreating figure. “How will I know I’m even going to the right place?”

“There is no wrong answer. Supposedly, wherever you decide will be the right place,” Logan answered, pausing at the doorway.

“Then what difference does it make if I stay here?”

“Does this feel like where you are supposed to be?”

Virgil just stared at him. No. No it didn’t. He gave a final groan and forced himself off the couch before stomping toward the front door and taking his bagged lunch with him.

Fucking bitch.

He wanted to kick something.

He ended up at the park and his already fragile mood was immediately soured as he passed by a group of musicians in large overly ornate hats as one with a particularly stupid looking mustache blew a sour note from a horn directly into his ear. He flipped him off and continued on the path, putting as much distance between him and the noisemakers as possible.

Virgil let himself fall into old habits as he hopped and grabbed hold of a tree branch before he even realized what he was doing, climbing until he was situated comfortably with his legs stretched out on a sturdy branch and his back  leaning against the trunk. Soulmates could suck it, he was gonna people watch today. Plus, if he was truly doomed to have to deal with an extra person in his life, he might as well take survey of them before having to actually meet them.

From here he could see a few couples. Definitely not. A few joggers and dog walkers who were hurrying down the path. Not the kind of people who would be around in the two hours he still had remaining. There was an older woman feeding the pigeons because some cliches existed for a reason it seemed. God he fucking hoped not. He’d almost take the mariachi bastard instead. Maybe.

Virgil let himself just exist for a little while, almost in a daze, but not quite snoozing as time passed around him. How was this soulmate thing supposed to work anyway? It’s not like he had some kinda of confirmation telling him he had the right person. Maybe the whole thing was some conspiracy, pairing people together artificially as to force them into some kind of submission. Like, how was he supposed to confirm that he even was with the right person when the clock stopped? Or what if they passed near each other and never truly met? Supposedly these timers were just supposed to magically stop at the exact moment two people who were just supposed to accept living the rest of their lives together would meet? Sounds fake.

Virgil’s attention was taken as he heard a rustling sound somewhere beneath him and found someone arranging a picnic basket. Oh god, what kind of dweeb goes to the park looking like they stepped straight out of a fairy tale book? He did a double-take though. Something about him looked... oddly familiar? He wasn’t sure how though. He could see some basically-prince-charming kneeling on a classic plaid red blanket and arranging a... surprisingly impressive set up. There were covered hotplates with something that smelled savory and absolutely delicious. Some kind of cake was in a clear plastic container. There was a pile of seemingly random snacks. He recognized the packages of a few, crackers, chocolates, granola bars, even a couple boxes of raisins of all things. Two matching sets cutlery with cloth napkins underneath the silverware. A three pronged candlestick was placed between the plates with rose petals scattered around at random and- Oh shit, was that wine? Was that even allowed at the public park?

Virgil wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he sure wasn’t gonna rat the guy out. The dude obviously put in a lot of effort for his date. That was the kinda guy who deserved a soulmate, not Virgil. Virgil was still in his ratty hoodie and rattier converse as he was waiting to meet them for the first time. A plan? Ha, in this economy? He was lucky he even remembered his wallet. He couldn’t imagine being the kind of person to arrange intricate dates like the picnic prince down below. In fact, Virgil was a little uncomfortable being so near. He couldn’t imagine that the happy couple would stay very happy if they found their private date was basically permanently photo-bombed by a guy chillin in the tree above them.

Virgil tried to shimmy his way across the branches, so he could try and jump down and land on the other side of the tree so he didn’t have to deal with the strange conversation of falling in the middle of someone’ picnic setup. What he didn’t count on however, was a branch catching on the pocket of his hoodie and effectively stopping him from making the trek to the next branch. In fact, being jerked back from crossing threw off his momentum enough that he couldn’t seem to right himself. He tried to regain his balance on another branch, but it cracked underneath his feet and suddenly he was falling.

Into waiting arms.

What the hell?

Virgil found himself staring straight up into the face of picnic guy. God the wannabe prince was even prettier up close.  He had big amber eyes, a heart shaped face, high cheekbones, and a pointy chin. He truly looked as if he belonged in the clothes he wore.

“Are you alright?” The man voiced, but it was almost more rumble than true sound and Virgil wasn’t sure he could breathe.

“Um... uh...mhmm,” he squeaked out lamely, barely able to get even that much out as he found himself freezing in place.

Not that it was a bad place to be....

Virgil shook the thought out of his head. The guy was clearly preparing a date. He probably already had a soulmate and Virgil had someone he was waiting to meet soon.

Soon.

Too soon.

Oh god.

He couldn’t... he couldn’t... he couldn’t what?

He couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t breathe.

Fuck!

All thoughts seemed to be immediately wiped from his brain suddenly as the only thing he could focus on was the sound of his rapidly beating heart pounding in his ears. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t he couldn’t hecouldn’thecouldn’tcouldn’tcouldn’tcan’tcan’tcan’t-

“Shhhh... sh, sh, shhhh. It’s okay... everything is okay. You are safe. Whatever this is, whatever is scaring you so, I will protect you. You don’t have to be scared of anything. I promise. It’s okay. Yeah? How about we just breathe together for a little while okay? Can you do that?”

Virgil swallowed and managed to nod after wiping some tears away with the sleeve of his hoodie. He wasn’t really... okay yet, but he managed to wrangle back up some thoughts from their banishment. Mainly that he was making a fool of himself, but anything was better than the sheer, terrifying nothingness of shutdown.

“Do you have a name?” the (now also clearly deserving of the prince attire he wore) guy asked while setting him down gently at the base of the tree.

“Vir... um Virgil.”

“I’m Roman,” the prince said kindly and gave a reassuring squeeze to his bicep. It reminded him a little of Patton actually. “Would you like some sparkling cider Virgil?”

Roman held up the bottle that Virgil had previously thought to be wine, but he could see from his position it was alcohol-free. At least no random park rangers would try to arrest the guy. He deserved better than that, Virgil decided.

“Or I have some bottles of water-”

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Virgil exclaimed, scrambling to his feet.

“What? What is it, what’s wrong?!” Roman exclaimed, immediately taking a somewhat defensive position in front of him, like he was protecting him.

“I ruined your date! I should... I should go. I’m sorry I uh... god I am terrible at this. I’m sorry for everything.”

“Wait please!” Roman exclaimed, grabbing the cuff of his hoodie. The damn thing was going to be the death of him. Virgil swore he was gonna finally buy a new one when he made it home. “You don’t have to go.”

“But... your date,” Virgil said, gesturing lamely to the beautiful setup Roman had spent so long on.

Roman let go and pulled his arms in uncomfortably. “I uh... I don’t even know if they’re coming or not to tell you the truth.”

“Wait, you did all of this and didn’t even know if they’re coming? That’s so...”

“Stupid, I uh... I know,” Roman said, looking down at his feet.

“I was gonna say brave,” Virgil said and gave a reassuring smile when Roman’s gaze jumped back up to his. At least he wasn’t the only one uncomfortable today.

“Th-thank you,” Roman said, his voice contorting slightly. He sounded choked up. Virgil almost reached out to give him some kinda comfort, but stopped himself.

That would be weird right?

He didn’t like... know the guy.

Right.

“Would you... um would you please join me for a bit while I wait?” Roman asked, his fingers fumbling with the hem of his tunic.

“On one condition,” Virgil said.

“Anything,” Roman immediately breathed and Virgil could practically see the hope in his eyes, but he couldn’t fathom for the life of him why it was there.

“You gotta tell me the story behind the prince gear.”

Roman’s cheeks immediately flushed a bright red. “Oh... um... well...”

Virgil let himself plop to one side of the picnic blanket and Roman gracefully slid down to mirror his position, surprisingly still stammering.

“-you see uh... I’m an actor and I just came from um...playing...”

“Prince charming?” Virgil asked with a smirk.

Roman nodded shyly. “In Cinderella. I’m usually much better at this... at least on stage I am.”

“At what?”

“At... well... talking?” He said it as if it was a question. “And uh-” It was Roman’s turn to gesture lamely, both to the set up and to himself. Virgil could basically grasp the gist of what he was trying to say at least.

“I think you’re doing great,” Virgil said with a grin. This guy was absolutely precious. He was almost jealous of the prince’s oncoming date. If they didn’t show he’d sweep him away himself. Fuck the soulmate.

“I really appreciate that Virgil,” Roman said with a sincerity in his eyes that let Virgil half in love already.

Bad Virgil, bad. He has a date. You have a soulmate. Focus.

“Anytime,” Virgil muttered, and took a swig of the cider, almost wishing it were the wine he probably shouldn’t have in a public park.

Roman smiled and Virgil was trying to convince himself he wasn’t completely destroyed by that crooked grin. He looked... relieved by Virgil’s answer, certainly more comfortable. From there, the conversation seemed to flow rather easily. Roman spoke of the dinner theater he worked at, making decent pay, but he didn’t plan to be there forever. He spoke of his dreams, on the stage, on the big screen and Virgil could only nod along and admit it makes sense that someone as pretty as him would be in movies. Roman shut down for a minute at that particular comment, but only grew more enthusiastic. Virgil learned he had a brother who had several books out and that Roman wanted to catch up in prestigiousness . They were apparently twins after all and Roman refused to fall behind.

Virgil spoke of himself too. He told him about Patton and Logan, the perfect soulmates who had found each other so young. A couple truly destined to spend a lifetime together. He spoke of his friendship and how he came to be acquainted with the literal embodiments of suburbia. He talked about his job at the radio and even running his own show on the off times on nights and weekends. He told him that he would usually be there for a show at the moment, but his coworker was covering for him today. Roman spit out his drink, but looked immediately embarrassed for doing so.

“Sorry sorry! It’s just... you’re... you’re that Virgil?”

“You’ve tuned in I take it?”

“Only every night! What other station plays Disney music at two in the morning?!” Roman exclaimed and grasped Virgil’s hands in his excitement, but them seemed to remember himself and curbed it back, releasing his catch.

No... Virgil thought grumpily. I liked the excited boy. Bring him back.

“I uh... I like to listen to your show when I’m working on my own projects at home,” Roman admitted, twiddling with the hem again.

“Well, then I’m glad. If I can bring someone inspiration, then maybe I’ll just never move the show,” Virgil said only half joking. Being on in the morning was considered prime time and they always got the best commercial deals, but... but if he had a fan like this.... Well, he didn’t want to disappoint.

“You know Virgil... I almost didn’t come out here today. My brother kinda pushed me into it. He and his partner are formidable as a pair.”

“I can absolutely relate with that. Still, it’s a pity that your date’s been a no show. All of that hard work you and even your bro put into it...they don’t deserve you.”

“I uh... I don’t know about that.” Roman said, staring with that same hopeful expression and Virgil was ready to throw hands with whoever hurt this man by leaving him here alone.

“You think they’ll still show?”

“I uh... I was thinking... hoping that they were already here,” Roman admitted and pulled down his sleeve to a timer that was rapidly approaching zero. “I was hoping it was you.”

I was hoping it was you.

I was hoping it was you.

I was hoping it was you.

The words echoed through Virgil’s brain rapidly as he tried to process the meaning... the ulterior motive. He couldn’t find any. He pulled back his own sleeve. 5...4...3...2...1....

Oh.

A small beep sounded in his own head, it almost acted like an auditory arrow pointing, no pushing him in Roman’s direction. Suddenly they were close. Suddenly they were inches apart. Suddenly hands were on his hips and all he could see were beautiful amber eyes.

Suddenly lips were on his.

Just as he let out the first hints of a moan from the feeling of Roman’s lips, oh lord his soft lips, they were interrupted and rapidly pulled away from each other at the sound of a microphone adjusting.

“THIS ONE GOES OUT TO THE HAPPY COUPLE ON THE PICNIC BLANKET! NEWLY FOUND SOULMATES!”

How the fuck?!-

All of the residents of the park cheered and clapped while looking in their direction. Confetti came from... somewhere? Loud music started playing and only a few feet from them and Virgil was absolutely shooketh seeing the band he passed when he first came into the park

“I... I didn’t hire them I swear!” Roman exclaimed, throwing his hands up in bewilderment and confusion.

Virgil didn’t doubt it.

“That guy in the mariachi band over there that kinda looks like you wouldn’t happen to be your brother would it?”

“Ugh, god dammit Remus!” Roman said the name with more venom than the swear and pinched the bridge of his nose.