#This vague post is brought to you by me realising both parts of that fic are now over 200 hits on AO3

[whysamwhy123]

Hmmm...what if I continued Voice in the Dark?

Maybe? At some point? Somehow? Just a little...

[alittlebitgoofy]

sinking - dayasco

this is part of the bimbo daya au but can be read standalone, i wrote a depression vent fic and decided to finish it off and post it on a whim. i can’t even remember why i started it just realised i never finished it so here we are. 

ao3 link 

Daya glanced down from her sketchbook when her phone started buzzing, seeing Bosco’s name light up, she tapped the accept button without a second thought, vaguely wondering why they would be calling her rather than just texting. However, she hadn’t been the most responsive over the past few days, taking hours longer than usual to reply to messages and mostly only sending a few words at a time.

Bosco’s voice came through on the other line, sounding weak even through the muffled phone speaker.

“Daya? Can you come here?” She spoke as if each word hurt to force out, god Daya knew that feeling. She was too soft-spoken for the confident Bosco she knew, not quite the most talkative person but always self-assured in whatever they had to say.

“Yeah of course, what’s up?”

“Nothing I just- Can you hurry? I need someone with me right now and Jasmine’s gone to class and-” They couldn’t stop talking once they started, the anxiety in her voice creeping through and becoming obvious to Daya, she glanced over at where she was sat, grabbing one of her dinosaur plushes in a daze, wondering if it would calm Bosco down like it did her.

“I’m on my way right now, okay? Don’t start panicking, it’s okay.” She reassured as best she could, sprinting through the halls and almost running into a shocked looking Willow, who simply shrugged as Daya blurted a quick apology before racing off

“Thank you.” Was all Bosco could manage out, her voice cracking with tears starting to pour again. Daya rushed over, pulling them into her arms as the sobs grew, feeling Bosco burrow against her as if Daya was the last line of defense between her and the world.

The more Daya questioned how she was, the more Bosco cried. Something tipped her over the edge, seeing how caring Daya was despite being called for out of the blue broke the last remaining shreds of her walls, crumbling when Daya whispered reassuringly that she was there for them.

Sobs turned into shaking breaths, the energy to cry having disappeared but the pit in her stomach never left as Bosco felt the weight of the world on her, wishing she could just sink into Daya and never have to look up or go outside again.

How did they even communicate this? Bosco felt like they were drowning and couldn't come up for air. Everything was too much and they kept wondering what the point of everything was. Why was everything so painful? What was going on and why did every waking moment feel like she was sinking deeper and deeper into a painful state of mind?

“Hey, Bosco? It feels a bit silly, but I brought something, it makes me feel better when I’ve got too many feelings going on to really process, would it help you?” Daya rambled slightly, smiling nervously as Bosco peaked out from their spot in her chest, glancing curiously at the dinosaur plush Daya presented before wordlessly taking it and pulling it to her chest, one hand wrapping back around Daya as the other clung to the stuffed animal like a lifeline.

“Is that a yes?” Daya questioned, giggling softly as Bosco nodded, humming into her chest.

Bosco felt everything start to lessen in intensity, the realisation she hadn’t moved in some days apart from going to the toilet or occasionally grabbing something to eat became the more apparent the longer she stayed curled into Daya, beginning to panic that she looked disgusting to the blonde, though the loving stare she gave them said otherwise.

“I feel disgusting.”

“You’re not disgusting, we both know I’m the gross one. I ate a bug once, you can’t top that.”

Bosco just laughed weakly, appreciating Daya’s constant insistence that they were okay, even though they both knew it wasn’t true.

Daya moved one of her hands that had been secured around Bosco’s waist to her hair, pulling down the hood of the hoodie that she’d burrowed herself in to avoid being perceived and slowly running her fingers through the black curls, messily pulled into a bun to keep out of her face that fell out with a gentle tug.

Bosco squirmed slightly, whining when Daya made an attempt to detangle her hair and pulled it in the process.

“You’re not going to make much progress, it needs a long wash and about an hour's worth of brushing.”

“We can do that, if you want to.” Daya mused, continuing her fruitless attempt to detangle their hair, slowly pulling some strands apart as gently as she could

“You don’t think it’s gross?” They hesitated, watching Daya’s expression closely for any signs of discomfort as she continued to examine and run through her hair.

“I think you’re struggling, and it’s hard to take care of yourself when things are too much to handle.” She shrugged, such genuine concern in her eyes that Bosco felt sick to her stomach, how could someone care that much for her? All she was good for was some quick jokes and a one-night stand. Why did Daya have to care so much?

“I haven’t told you about everything, how did you know?” Bosco became quiet again, looking at Daya with slightly panicked eyes, scouring her brain for any mention of her precocious mental state that wasn’t played off as a joke, shrugging it off if she’d ever try to pry into it.

How much had she thought about them? Why was she the one thing that broke through Bosco’s calm aloof facade that let her go through the start of the year without incident?

She’d stayed, that was where it started, even knowing it would make things complicated. Daya had become a quick friend, always willing to go over notes from their shared classes or just talk about anything. She’d talk for hours the second Bosco prodded her about a topic she knew a lot about and it was always the best. How much had she listened to? God, this was horrible.

“Kerri mentioned that you have moments when you just shut off from everyone for days at a time and that she was worried about you, I figured something was up when your texts were so dry and just kind of put the pieces together.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the dumb one-” They joked, though couldn’t find the courage in themself to look up and see how the blonde redacted.

“I have my moments.” Daya grinned, giggling in a way that made Bosco unable to stop the corners of her lips from curling up ever so slightly.

“You really brought me a dinosaur because it helps you and you thought it would help me too.” Bosco glanced down at the stuffed toy in her arms, smiling softly at it. It was a tangible reminder of how kind Daya always was, no matter what in her own way she would show how much she cared.

“I didn’t think it through, but it made sense as I was rushing here. Don’t laugh at me too much.” Daya turned away, face flushing slightly in embarrassment. Bosco looked back up at her with a soft smile, wondering how she’d managed to get someone this caring in her life without so much as a complaint about coming to her when she needed someone.

“It helped.” They said simply, unable to communicate the mix of emotions boiling inside of them, though Daya’s shocked look did make them crack another small smile.

“You’re not just saying that to stop me from feeling dumb?”

“No, it really did.” Bosco slid her hand over Daya’s cheek, rubbing it gently and letting out the first genuine smile Daya had seen from her in a while. Their eyes crinkled in an utterly adorable way that Daya just couldn’t resist, pressing their lips together on impulse, gently kissing Bosco as they felt things start to feel lighter for the first time in the past few days.

When they broke apart, that same somewhat dopey grin was still on Bosco’s face, tugging at Daya’s heart the longer she stared at them.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess, but thank you for helping me through it.”

“Bosco. Don’t put yourself down, everyone struggles with things. You aren’t a bad person for finding emotions hard, I’ll always be willing to give you a shoulder to cry on. Literally, you cried a lot don’t you need a drink or something?”

“I need a lot of things, I think I should start with a shower to be honest my hair needs to be sorted out before I start feeling like a person again.” They grimaced as they touched their hair, irked by the knots that would take forever to brush out.

“How about you go shower and I’ll get you something to eat and drink, maybe I’ll even grab you a dr pepper, would that be nice?”

“You’re an ally, you know that.” Bosco poked Daya in the cheek, pressing a kiss to the same place as the blonde squeaked in surprise.

“I try my best.”

When she came back to their room, Daya found Bosco lying down, her eyes closed and finally looking completely calm. Her hair was still wet, soaking the back of her shirt as it dripped from the messy bun she’d pulled it into. What really tugged on her heartstrings was seeing Bosco cuddling the dinosaur she’d left in their room, securely grasped against their chest.

It was too cute a sight to ruin, though the food in Daya’s hands reminded her she couldn’t stay staring forever. Putting it down, she nudged Bosco gently, murmuring a gentle greeting so as to not startle them.

Bosco just let out a confused grunt in response, slowly opening her eyes to see Daya standing over her with a soft smile. Her sleepy confusion moved to slight embarrassment as she became aware of her surroundings. Shifting themself up, Bosco tugged Daya to sit next to her, grabbing the food before being aware of the fact Daya didn’t bring herself anything.

“You not hungry?”

“I’ve already eaten, plus I always carry around snacks in my pockets. Diabetes and what not.” Bosco shrugged, pressing a kiss to Daya’s cheek in thanks as she started to eat.

Daya just watched on quietly, smiling to herself as the smaller girl was too absorbed in her food to notice the staring, though once they finished they turned to Daya, an eyebrow raised as the blonde felt her face heat up.

“You just gonna watch me the whole time?”

“I wasn’t-” Daya hesitated, though the knowing look Bosco shot her soon broke her resolve. “Okay maybe I was but you’re too cute how couldn’t I?”

“Cute?” Bosco’s tone changed, somewhat incredulous at the suggestion. She’d been called a lot of things, intimidating, hot, occasionally pretty, but never cute. She scared people, even before coming out she’d always been on the alternative side, too tall to really look endearing to anyone. She’d come to expect the lack of cuteness, it just wasn’t her thing and that was okay. (At least until the dysphoria got bad)

But cute? Daya thought she was cute? The thought made her face burn, something churned in their stomach as Daya nodded at the question. An unfamiliar warmth seemed to talk hold of her, everything feeling fuzzy in response to one single comment.

“You’re cute, it was adorable when you were cuddling the dinosaur earlier.”

“You saw that?”

“I did, don’t worry you’re secrets safe with me. No one is going to know the hot goth girl is actually an adorable softie who loves cuddles.” With that, Daya pulled Bosco into a tight hug, leaning her head on their shoulder and looking up at them with adoring eyes.

Bosco glanced away, praying Daya wouldn’t see how much that affected them. Though her attempt failed as Daya grabbed her face, tilting them to face her again.

“See, cute.” Daya kissed their cheek, leaving a dumbfounded Bosco to stare blankly back. Processing everything they blinked a few times, realising the pit in their stomach had lifted completely when Daya was nearby.

“Also, your hair, can I brush it.” Daya focused her attention on their hair, gently tugging the bun and letting out the messy black curls. She raked her hands through it a few times, Bosco quietly humming in delight, leaning into her touch.

“Yeah, do what you want to it.” She shrugged, almost whining as Daya moved from her spot nestled against them to grab her hairbrush. She soon returned, sitting behind Bosco and planting a kiss at the top of her head before getting started detangling the mess they’d made of their hair.

They closed their eyes as she worked, enjoying the feeling of the way Daya would run her fingers through the knots she’d brushed out just to check it was completely gone or how she gently scratched their scalp after hitting a particularly rough bit, soothing them as the pain made Bosco jolt slightly.

By the end of it, she was putty in Daya’s hands, melting as she continues to stroke their hair and scratch at her head in a way that they couldn’t help but let out a content sigh.

“You like that?”

Bosco hummed in agreement, letting Daya do whatever she wanted as long as they could stay like that for a little longer.

“It’s kind of late, isn’t Jasmine coming back?” The blonde looked at her bed questioningly, not that she was complaining at the lack of the annoying ginger. They never quite saw eye to eye, Daya was always ready to bite back when provoked and the ginger loved to rile her up as she got reactions out of her incredibly easily.

Bosco wondered if they’d ever get along, especially if they kept spending time with Daya. Eventually, they’d work out their issues, or most likely she’d have to force them to get along.

“No, she went to spend the night with her new girlfriend, I don’t even want to think about the noise she’s going to cause coming in to get her stuff tomorrow.”

“She just left you alone while you were like this?” Daya’s eyebrows furrowed, a cold glint in her eyes that startled Bosco.

“I told her it was fine, I didn’t want to be a burden.” They shrugged, she took that as enough and didn’t pry more, instead starting to smirk at something.

“What?” Bosco knew that look, something she’d thought of was amusing to her but they doubted it would communicate very well.

“You’re not a burden, you’re Bosco.” Daya giggled at her joke, pouting as Bosco just rolled their eyes.

They leaned back, pulling Daya to lay down next to her as she curled up next to them, the exhaustion from all the crying and the emotions finally starting to weigh down on her. Her hands instinctively moved to their hair, gently stroking it as they let out a pleased sigh, melting into her arms and letting her eyes fall shut.

Daya felt Bosco doze off, fully relaxing in her arms, listening as her breathing evened out. The world felt like so much to deal with sometimes but they found safety in her arms. Daya couldn’t help but worry slightly, if this would happen again or get worse but looking at the black-haired girl calmly asleep nestled up against her was enough to reassure her that Bosco would be okay if she stayed by her side.

[potionsprefect]

hi! can I request a fic where Victoria and Ethan talks about the number of sexual partners they had before, thank you! 🥰

Ooooo yes I love this! I’m gonna turn it into a headcanon if you don’t mind anon 🥰

Addressing Their Numbers

Ethan didn’t understand why he was watching this show, he found it utterly drivel.

But Victoria had a thing for British reality tv shows and he was subject to endless talk about Love Island every summer.

They were currently sat on his sofa, Victoria watching the show and Ethan doing anything but that.

He never found much time to watch TV in the first place so why on earth would his TV find the reality tv show channel?

But then Victoria entered his life and suddenly, he realised that if she wanted something, he would go to the ends of the earth to find it for her.

“Next question, how many girls do you think your guy has slept with?” The man on the TV said, Ethan rolled his eyes at it.

“Are you secretly enjoying this?” Victoria looked up at him from where she was sat by his side.

“I couldn’t think of anything worse to watch.”

“Suit yourself.” Victoria shrugged. After a few minutes she spoke again. “How many sexual partners have you had?”

“What?” Ethan looked at her incredulously.

“Just watching this on here.” She gestures to the TV. “All the men seem to have high numbers and I’ve realised we’ve never talked about it.”

“From what I remember, we didn’t seem to do a lot of talking.” Ethan chuckled setting the book down.

“That’s true. I’ll tell you what. I’ll tell you my number, if you tell me yours.”

“It’s really not important Vic. It won’t change my opinion of you.”

“I know that but now I’m intrigued.”

“Okay then, tell me.”

Victoria sat up straight. “So when I was in medical school I had one boyfriend. It ended amicably and we both ended up good friends. And my number is 4. Which includes you.”

“I’m not sure what I was expecting. How long were you with your boyfriend for?”

“Around 7-8 months. We just realised we wanted different things at the end of the day. There were no hard feelings and we stayed good friends. He actually messaged me when I made us picta official.”

“Please say that last part again in English.”

Victoria laughed. “When I posted us on Pictagram for the first time. He messaged me asking how I managed to bag arguably the greatest doctor on the planet.”

“I’m flattered. I guess I should tell you my number now. It’s 8.”

“That’s higher than I expected.”

“Really?”

“Does that surprise you?” Victoria laughed.

“A little. Nothing ended up solid though. I was young and blowing off some steam. But since I properly started working, maintaining a relationship would always be difficult.” Ethan replied.

“I get that. I’ve never believed the ‘you shouldn’t date people you work with’ idea. We’re the proof that we can do it.” Victoria squeezed his hand.

Ethan brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “I agree.”

“Well I’m glad we cleared that up. I like learning more things about you.” Victoria said.

“Likewise. I didn’t expect us to ever have a conversation like that but I’m glad we did.”

Victoria laid back down against Ethan’s side as he threw an arm across her shoulders.

“Ethan?”

“Yes?”

“For the record, you are most definitely the person I would couple up with.”

Ethan, vaguely understanding what she meant, chuckled quietly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Ditto.”

Thank you anon for the request!

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[besanii]

double happiness at your door

Part 18 [end] | previous chapters linked on sidebar!

The initial plan was for Qing Qiu to send a retinue, personally led by Wei Wuxian, to pick up Lan Wangji and the rest of the bridal procession from the Nine Heavens. No expenses were to be spared—both Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang had had a lot of fun (perhaps a little too much fun) designing the bridal palaquin that would transport Lan Wangji from his quarters at the Palace of Enlightenment to his new home with Wei Wuxian in the Fox Den of Qing Qiu, and they had certainly not skimped out on the wedding gifts either—and for a while everyone had been happy. Except then Lan Qiren had gotten hold of the palanquin designs and thrown a fit, deeming it unsuitably gaudy and ostentatious for an esteemed member of the Nine Heavens Imperial Family.

Which, okay fair. Maybe having a pair of Bi Yi Niao drawing the palanquin had been a bit much. But still! That doesn’t mean Lan Qiren gets to cancel the bridal procession altogether!

So they had to compromise. They’ll keep the bridal procession and the palanquin if they do away with the bridal veil and the Bi Yi Niao. Which leaves him here, outside the Palace of Enlightenment with Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang at his side, facing off with Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue.

“Uh, so how does this work, exactly?” Wei Wuxian mutters under his breath, nudging Nie Huaisang with an elbow.

“They’re supposed to give you a challenge!” Nie Huaisang says, fluttering his fan excitedly in front of his face. “Something to prove your love and devotion!”

My what now?

He turns to the two imposing figures in the doorway and gulps.

“Taizi-dianxia, Chifeng-zun,” he laughs weakly. “Have you eaten yet? We’ve brought...cakes! And pastries! Please, have your fill!”

Lan Xichen smiles.

“Thank you for the kind offer, Xiao-dianxia,” he says, “but we have already eaten. Why don’t we focus on the task at hand, hmm?”

There’s a vaguely threatening twinkle in his eye that sends chills down Wei Wuxian’s spine and himself almost crashing into Jiang Cheng on his other side. 

“What does Taizi-dianxia propose then?” Jiang Cheng asks, drawing himself up to his full height. It’s an admirable attempt at making himself appear more threatening, but he’s up against Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen, which pretty much speaks for its effectiveness (or lack thereof).

Well, at least he tried. Wei Wuxian can give him that.

“Mingjue-xiong, what was the purpose of this exercise again?” Lan Xichen asks, voice light and airy. “To prove Xiao-dianxia’s love and devotion for Wangji, was it?”

The grin Nie Mingjue gives them is anything but light and airy. Nie Huaisang audibly gulps.

“I know just the thing.” He stretches out a hand and summons Baxia into his grasp. It glints menacingly in the sunlight. “How about a duel? If you defeat me, you may pass.”

“Is that a good idea, Da-ge?” Nie Huaisang pipes up from where he’s half-hiding behind Wei Wuxian. “We don’t want to hurt Wei-xiong before he’s had a chance to perform his duties!”

Wei Wuxian chokes and turns red immediately—Nie Huaisang is so dead. He’s going to kill him. How can he say something like that in front of the Crown Prince? Lan Wangji’s brother? Does he want to get him killed? He still hasn’t seen Lan Wangji in his wedding robes! 

“Nie-xiong!” he hisses. To Nie Mingjue, he offers a deep bow. “Chifeng-zun, please spare your junior on his wedding day. How could I possibly hope to defeat you in combat?”

“Oh?” Nie Mingjue smirks. “Do you not want to be married then?”

“Chifeng-zun!” Wei Wuxian heaves an incredibly put-upon sigh. “Then you leave me no choice. Luckily, in situations like this, I can call upon my trusty brother to fight in my stead!”

He slings an arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders and shoves him forward with an encouraging shout, grinning wickedly at the abject terror on his face as he comes nose-to-chest with Nie Mingjue. Still, he grits his teeth and squares his shoulders and actually looks like he’s going to fight so Wei Wuxian has got to hand it to him—what a good brother! He’ll never compare him to a pufferfish again!

The moment is interrupted by Lan Xichen clearing his throat.

“While that’s all well and good,” he says mildly. “I think Wangji would prefer it if we didn’t destroy his courtyard, or injure his husband before the wedding. Why don’t we do something else?”

He swears he hears Nie Mingjue blow a raspberry. A very tiny, petulant one out of the corner of his mouth. But definitely a raspberry. But Lan Xichen appears not to have seen it, or at least pretends not to, as he waves his arm and a table appears in front of them with a blank scroll and a set of inks and brushes.

“Xiao-dianxia, if you will.” He motions for Wei Wuxian to take a seat. “I have a very simple task for you. Please write down all three thousand of the Lan family rules within the span of one joss stick.”

What?

“What?” he says aloud, dumbfounded. “All of them?”

Lan Xichen raises an eyebrow.

“You were gifted with a copy of them when you first arrived at the Nine Heavens,” he reminds him. “And again when we first sent pingli to your chambers at the beginning of this engagement. I trust you would have read them in preparation for your marriage. After all, these rules are very important to Wangji.”

He tops it all off with a beatific smile that has Wei Wuxian breaking out in a cold sweat. Okay, so he has read all three thousand rules before. Once. Sort of. Okay so maybe he’s skimmed them a bit. But to ask him to write them all down from memory just isn’t fair! He’s not even the one marrying into the Lan family! If anything, Lan Wangji should be the one to copy out Qing Qiu’s rules!

He forces a smile and picks up the brush.

“Of course,” he lies. “Of course I did.”

He’s about half a joss stick in when an idea strikes him and he scraps the page he’s been working on—he hears Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng groan and complain loudly and ignores them in favour of smoothing out a fresh piece of paper and setting brush to paper with gusto. They want him to demonstrate his knowledge of the Lan family rules? Well, he’ll give them one better.

He lifts the brush from the paper with a final flourish just as the last part of the joss stick crumbles away into dust. A splatter of ink gets onto Jiang Cheng’s robes, but he’s too busy setting aside the brush and picking up his masterpiece to acknowledge his angry muttering. He offers it to Lan Xichen with a bow.

“Taizi-dianxia,” he says. “For your inspection.”

Lan Xichen’s face softens as he takes in what Wei Wuxian has given him.

“Xiao-dianxia…”

It’s a picture of Lan Wangji sitting under the shade of a peach blossom tree, playing the guqin, from the first time he’d visited the Nine Heavens. He remembers climbing over the wall to escape his etiquette lessons and stumbling into the Palace of Enlightenment completely by accident while Lan Wangji had been practising. He remembers how the sunlight had shone through the branches of the tree just so to bathe him in an ethereal glow—if they had not been already immortal, Wei Wuxian could have sworn he was a fairy descended to earth—and the way his breath had caught in his throat at the sight. 

It was the first time he remembers really seeing Lan Wangji.

Nie Huaisang is smiling behind his fan while admiring the portrait, and even Nie Mingjue looks grudgingly impressed by his work. Jiang Cheng folds his arms over his chest and scoffs, but he too has a pleased little quirk at the corner of his mouth.

“Well,” Lan Xichen says finally, lowering the portrait. “I believe you’ve quite surpassed the task we set for you, Xiao-dianxia. Here is your reward.”

He steps aside.

Lan Wangji is standing at the door to the main chambers on the other side of the courtyard, dressed in layers of red and gold silk fitted to perfection around his broad frame. Even the customary silver pins in his hair have been replaced by a single one made of gold, fashioned into the shape of a dragon and slotted through a guan of flowing golden clouds. His honey-gold eyes are wide and stunned, his mouth falling open just a sliver as he looks Wei Wuxian up and down.

“Wei Ying,” he breathes. Wei Wuxian flushes, his insides squirming in pleasure under his scrutiny.

And oh. 

Oh.

Wei Wuxian presses a hand over his pounding heart in realisation.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, unable to stop the smile breaking out over his face. “I’m here!”

Lan Wangji hums, his eyes soft. 

“Yes,” he agrees. “You are.”

--

Previous parts and ko-fi link on my sidebar!

--

Aaaaaaand that’s a wrap on the main fic, folks! The next part after this is the wedding night, which I’ve already written and can be found in the master post. Everything written after this will be purely extras :)

Thank you for sticking with me through it all! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’ll probably focus more on Shattered Mirrors while working on another WIP in the background, so please support SM too!

[scrawnytreedemon]

Ooh, how about Hojo for the ask meme?

OHOOOO, I HAVE A L O T TO SAY, BABY-- Especially after seeing that final showdown, oh boy.

(hfhdkjfhjkj sorry for this being late!! had many thinsg to do <33)

For context, I know jack-shit about Dirge of Cerbeus, and I’d rather it stay that way. Vee has scarred me enough with her recollections from the wiki alone, and unless we finally do that shit-movie night we’ve been meaning to for awhile, I’m not touching it with a ten foot pole.

First impression: Horrible rat man; nasty. Your run of the mill Mad Scientist except somehow Even Worse. Perhaps a little generic at times. Pervy fuck. Probably has a bunch of obscenely lewd magazines in his study. Fuck him for fucking over absolutely everyone that’s gotten within ten metres of him. This guy fucks, and that’s how we got Sephiroth. -1/10, Worst Scientist, Husband and Father of the Year.

Impression now: I... I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I like him now, unironically. You win, Hojo Fuckers. Seeing that scene at the control panel, I think that man’s genuinely depressed-- Like, ‘I’ve devoted my entire life to my work to numb the pain but now I’ve realised it’s all for nothing and it’s fucking useless and I’m fucking useless and there’s nothing for me to do other than sacrifice myself for my son, who fucking hates me.‘ Like... Jesus Christ, I did not expect him to be so self-aware. He’s still a downright horrendous person and many of the things he’s done, if I believed in such a mindset, are downright irredeemable. Basically, I actually like his character now-- full-on -- even if he’s still a right bell-end.

Favorite moment: The rooftop scene. Jesus Christ, man, that changed my whole view on him. The way he’s actually becoming aware of how wrong he was, and how it weighs on his mind-- How, almost absently, as if he’s saying it more to himself, he tells Cloud he should become a scientist. It’s a small thing... But it speaks to a level of respect I don’t think Hojo has had for anyone in a very long time. He’s been brought to his limit, willing to give anything and everything so that the one thing he’s done right, his son who he gave up to further his now-dead career, succeeds in world-annihilation. What really gets me is that moment in the fight, where you’ve ended the first phase, when he says, apathetically, how he hopes the Mako juice is going-- And then he turns into a monster. This horrendous, twisted thing that’s barely held together by skin and sinew-- Probably one of the most downright-horrifying things in this entire game --And it’s just... like... wow... he broke.

Idea for a story: A fic where him and Sephiroth actually try and make amends. I’ve seen this guy killed off-screen so many times, and everytime, I am deeply disappointed. I get it. Hojo’s probably the worst character in the game. He has no morals and no boundaries, and he’s irritating as fuck-- I get it --But he’s also the reason all of this shit has happened, and is such a vital character in the forming of the story, in Sephiroth’s specifically, that I want him to be done justice. I want to see one of them reach out to the other, and slowly, bit, by bit, by agonising bit piece together something vaguely resembling a foundation for their relationship. I want to see them reminisce over the few good times they had together, and address deeply the many, many bad ones. It’ll be painful, and there will be many bumps in the road where they’ll feel like there isn’t even a point to this shit, and yet push on despite that. Because despite everything, they are family-- And not because they are obligated to, but because they’re choosing to. I want to see that. I really do. I’ll probably write it myself.

Unpopular opinion: I think my newfound appreciation of him in general, lmao. I won’t get into the paternity debate, as I’ve addressed that in Vincent’s post and another one. Perhaps the fact that I think it’s stupid that the scientists in FFVII get referred to by their first names-- Like, who does this shit??? Who out here thinks Hojo sounds like a first name??? It’s just... Really unprofessional and I don’t think Hojo is comfortable enough with anyone to just have them call him by his first name. Also Dr. Faremis Gast sounds better than Dr. Gast Faremis. I know it’s a pun in Japanese but I don’t give a shit. Fight me.

Favorite relationship: Him and Sephiroth, because there’s just, alot of shit. I don’t think he was ever truly close enough to Lucrecia for me to get invested-- It’s clear the relationship, though while initially stable and they probably got along well, was one mostly of work --And I don’t think there’s anyone else close enough to Hojo’s character to serve as another option, either. Maybe Vincent, but again, that was through Lucrecia. Seph and Hojo have this dynamic where strained doesn’t even begin to describe it. Hojo thinks Seph doesn’t know and Seph thinks Hojo doesn’t know that he knows-- And it’s painfully clear that had it not been for Hojo, Sephiroth wouldn’t have been so unstable. There was alot of abuse, physical and psychological, that got framed as ‘work,’ and it’s undoubtebly fucked with Seph’s very concept of ownership, and who owns another. It’s clear that on some level, Hojo feels shame for what he’s done-- Not guilt, shame --And is unwilling to let the boy(and perhaps even himself) from knowing his true parentage. Part of it’s definitely spite for Lucrecia, but there’s more. I could go one for hours, honest to god, so like, feel free to tack on your own ideas, fellow trash conoisseurs.

Favorite headcanon: Him being Wutaian. Not sure if it’s entirely headcanon, but like, it really is ironic. I personally think his family moved to Midgar while he was still young-- Perhaps due to a faction split -- so he grew up on the Eastern Continent, so he was stuck in this weird middle space alot of immigrant or descended from immigrants children where on one hand, you’ve got your family’s legacy, and you probably, if not fluently, speak their native tongue and carry out their traditions, and on the other hand you’ve grown up with people who’ve been here for generations and inevitably get moulded by their ways and their customs, perhaps to the point you’re more culturally theirs than your native land’s. If we’re going with the faction split, I think Hojo leans hard into the latter, out of a deep-seated indignance. Maybe his family were fairly influential, before they had to move to what was, no doubt, a less than idyllic neighbourhood. I think part of what made him want to become a scientist was that need to regain that honour, that dignity-- It’s very self-centred, and clearly didn’t work out.

Thank you Vee as always-- You incredible bastard --For both asking and also rambling with me about this grease-weasel for like, a good long time.

Knowing my luck I just might’ve gotten another hyperfixation. A terrible one. Fuck.

And to anyone who’s read this far, thank you! As always, feel free to throw in your own thoughts, whether they be replies or reblogs. I’m curious to know what the general vibe is about him(other than Haha Stinky Goblin Rat), as I don’t think he’s talked about all that much? Maybe I’m looking in the wrong places.

Anyhow Hojo Fuckers, I owe you a beer. Not a good one, probably tastes of piss, but knowing you lot, that’s probably just fine, lmaooooooo. Keep up the ungodly work <3

[gumnut-logic]

Snake Bite (Part 1)

I wrote fic! For the first time this year. New fic! yeah, I know I have WIPs, but the muse was misbehaving and rebelling all over the place, so as you saw in a previous post (amongst all the amazing fanart, wow), I wrangled it and this is what I came up with. It’s not much and isn’t finished, but fic! I hope you enjoy anyway.

Many thanks to @scribbles97​ and @tsarinatorment​ for the read throughs and support. you guys rock ::hugs you both::

-o-o-o-

It was a beautiful evening. The day had been hot, but the sun was waning and a breeze had picked up enough to disturb the cloying heat prologuing the cool desert night.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have stepped off the decking in a suit with a champagne glass in his hand, perhaps he should have left his explorations for another night when he could have been dressed appropriately, but Virgil was used to grabbing the moment and the inspiration when he could. Tomorrow was never guaranteed.

Tonight was a rare case. Lady Penelope had invited the Tracy family out to her station in the outback for an evening of entertainment. There were a number of notables there and Scott had been heard to mutter something about working holiday, but Dad had shushed him and promised to take some of the networking load.

It was times like these Virgil felt a little guilty. While he didn’t mind a party and it was certainly fun to socialise, he felt he didn’t have that suave business sense like Scott, his father and even to a certain extent, John, who hated parties at the best of times. Though if you gave John a long distance communication method and he could have anyone eating out of his hand. A skill Scott deployed on many a business occasion.

No, Virgil was more of the practical sense. Something broken, he could fix it, someone hurt, he could tend to them. Juggle the fallacies of business and the underhand agendas? He had no patience or tolerance. Besides, he had reliable feedback that he couldn’t lie to save his own life.

But whatever, he was good at what he was good at.

So, sometimes the quiet desert evening was more attractive than the bustling social scene inside.

He eyed a bird of prey circling far above and wondered vaguely what type it was. Thoughts of different birds on a different farm came to mind.

A sigh and he swallowed a sip of champagne.

The bubbles popped on his tongue.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have stepped out, dressed in a suit, carrying a glass of champagne, but the evening was picture perfect and the quiet so alluring.

He didn’t go far. While Australia had become more familiar since they had moved to Tracy Island, it was still vast, still had a reputation of being deadly to the unwary, and this was no Kansas farm.

The red sand under his feet glowed in the evening sun.

Sharp grass - learnt the hard way - grew in tufted spikes along the path, tiny flowers dotted between the rocks. Penelope had said that spring was on the region and that they might see some lovely flower displays.

Virgil fully intended on investigating as soon as possible.

The path rose a little as he climbed a hillock and he couldn’t help but look back over the ranch buildings to the glowing presence of Thunderbird Two parked on the far side.

He had brought her with him for two reasons, the first being in case of a callout. The second was more related to that business manoeuvring thing. The overt presence of an International Rescue vehicle, while never explicitly used in dealings, was useful as a reminder to those who may forget exactly who the Tracy family were.

Virgil’s lips thinned as he stared at his ‘bird. It was a Dad thing. One of the many new things his father’s return had introduced. Scott had never used IR as a business tool and Dad technically wasn’t, but there was a contrast between how Scott worked and how their father worked and there were lots of little things like this that made that obvious.

The fact the Thunderbird was high up on her struts and towered over the landscape was functional and strategic at the same time.

A sigh and Virgil took another sip of champagne before turning to once again follow the path up the hill.

He didn’t see what he stepped on, but he felt it.

Soft, moving, he had that split second of realisation that his foot had encountered something alive, a stumble to try and avoid hurting whatever that was, and he overbalanced, only managing to not faceplant in the dust due to many years on the training mats with Kayo.

He still landed in an uncoordinated mess in the middle of one of those spiky grass tufts.

It stabbed him through expensive fabric.

Ow.

And rocks. There were rocks.

Damnit.

Red dust coated his pants and suit jacket and there was a definite scuff on one shoe.

Whatever it was he had nearly squished, slithered off into the grass on the other side of the path.

It only took him a moment to connect the dots.

He’d stepped on a snake, apparently, a little one, but a snake.

In Australia.

The continent renowned for such deadly reptiles.

Aw, hell.

But Virgil was an experienced responder. There was no need to panic. He rolled himself off the grass, his eyes pinned to where the snake had disappeared.

The grass complained and stabbed him a few more times through his clothes, but he got onto his hands and knees.

Nothing obvious was hurting, other than all the needle pricks, so that was a good sign.

His dress shoes were more red than black, along with the nice charcoal suit pants. The sooner he got off the ground, the better, but the medic in his head was yelling at him.

He yanked up both pant legs and poked around his socks, examining his skin for breaks. Even then, he almost missed it.

Two tiny little pin pricks on the inside of his right ankle.

Shit.

The current locations of his family members flitted through his head.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

It was going to be absolutely fabulously newsworthy to have one of the Tracy brothers carted off in his own ‘bird simply because he didn’t look where he stepped.

The setting sun was still calmly gazing over the landscape, lighting everything up in gold. But it felt far more sinister now.

The breeze ruffled his hair.

Sitting in the dirt, knowing he shouldn’t move, Virgil sighed and thumbed his comms. Maybe he could minimise the damage.

“Gords, you got a minute?”

-o-o-o-

Gordon was having a great time.

If there was something he missed living on an island in the middle of nowhere, it was this.

Penelope had one soft hand on his arm and was smiling at him as several of her friends laughed at one of his jokes. The fact the stuck-up toff, Duke Butterfingers, looked less than pleased was just icing on the cake. He was definitely on Gordon’s scorn list after his snide remark regarding Sherbet versus his ‘real dog’ wolfhound blah-blah.

It appeared the dog was smarter than the owner.

But Pen’s girlfriends were great conversationalists and it was nice to talk to someone other than family or those with their lives at risk for a change.

Yes, it was proof that he needed to get out more.

The subtle twitch of his collar comms against his skin wasn’t to be ignored, however.

A hand on Pen’s hand. “Please excuse me a moment. Duty calls.” He did not bow. Well, not really, but the amused smile and the sparkle in Penny’s eyes made it worth it anyway.

Her hand squeezed his arm and let go gently. Her eyes didn’t leave him immediately. “Felicity, do tell me about your new parlour. I hear it is being featured in Great Homes of Britain?”

If her blue eyes hadn’t turned away at that moment, it would have been questionable as to whether he would have been able to leave. But leave he did, wondering which family member he had to torture in the future in revenge.

Finding himself a polite corner, he opened his comms and frowned at his brother’s worried voice. “Virgil? What is it?”

It took a moment, enough to grab Gordon’s attention a little more. “Virg?”

“I’ve been bitten by a snake.”

“What?!”

“I’m up the hill at the back of the ranch. I stepped on a snake.” I need your help. It wasn’t said, but it was obvious. “Don’t tell Scott or Dad. Yet.” That last was said a little tentatively.

But Gordon was already moving, running the list of dangerous snakes that could likely be found out here through his head. If anyone noticed him dash from the room, he didn’t really care.

Compression bandage. Immobilisation. “You stay absolutely still, you hear me?”

“I’m aware of the procedure, Gordon.”

The location of first aid kits in Penelope’s house was quickly overridden by the vast store of equipment out in the carpark in Two.

Gordon was in a full out run before he realised it.

The evening was cooler but still warm from the day as the sun still hadn’t gone down. Two loomed over everything as Gordon dashed between cars and dodged guard rails. Two parking attendants stared at him as he tore past, but he ignored them.

Reaching Two, he swiped a dance of finger code over his left jacket sleeve and a control hologram leapt up from the fabric. The keys to his brother’s ‘bird were a necessity he was ever grateful for in this moment.

The great green Thunderbird hummed to life and lowered on her struts, smooth as ever, down enough for her forward hatch to reach him. He jumped on board and was in the first aid lockers without a second thought.

The countdown in his head was predictably short as his comms went off only a few seconds later. That would be John.

Gordon ignored it and switched back to Virgil.

“Any idea what type of snake?”

“Small and brown. It’s all I got. Didn’t see it. Stepped on the poor thing.” A pause. “I’m sorry, Gords.”

“It happens.” He slammed the locker shut, grabbed a hover stretcher and linked it to his comms. He cursed the lack of his uniform and all its inbuilt necessities with it. The essentials woven into his suit jacket and collar comms were barely minimal.

A brief thought of moving Two to his brother faded quickly as he poked the pilot’s dash and Virgil’s location lit up. He wasn’t very far away at all and there was no room to park Two anyway.

No room in the Australian Outback? An oxymoron, but it would be faster to just grab his brother and throw him on Two.

It was going to be bad enough lifting off once.

He jumped back onto the hatch and lowered himself. Securing Two he broke into another run. “You know you’re not going to be able to hide this from Scott, Dad or anyone here? You’re going to hospital, bro, and Two’s the fastest way. No one is going to miss her launching.” He leapt over a fence, the hover stretcher darting to follow.

“I know.” It was a quiet and sad answer.

“Medical status, Virg. How are you feeling?” He peeled around the corner of the main building and fixed his eyes on a figure part way up a hill in the distance.

Virgil waved.

“Gordon, report! John says it was you who accessed Two. What are you doing?” Scott, as commander as ever.

A harsh breath as his feet hit the bottom of the hill. “Thunderbird Four responding to a medical emergency. One of Penelope’s guests has been bitten by a snake. Evac imminent.” Another breath as he finally made it to Virgil’s side. The expression on his brother’s face could only be considered despair. “Scott, we will need media management. Victim is high profile. We need to keep this on the downlow.”

A pause as Gordon set down the first aid kit. Virgil’s lips were tight as he pointed to the red and swollen twin pin pricks on the inside of his right ankle.

Gordon shoved open the kit and, without another word, grabbed bandaging.

Scott’s voice was sharp. “FAB. John is accessing Five. Victim identity?”

Virgil sighed and his shoulders dropped before he thumbed his comms. “Scott?”

“Virgil?”

“It’s me.”

-o-o-o-

TBC

[wlfkssd]

Valhalla must wait ( oneshot )

Prompt based on the ask ‘on the edge of consciousness + ubbe’ sent by @ritual-unions-gotme​ from this list.

Summary : Ubbe is on the edge of consciousness, having spent so long at sea without food or water. Loosely plays with the timeline between 6.15′s storm and 6.17.

Warnings : mentions of dying.

Pairing : Ubbe x Torvi 

Word count : 1,084

Additional notes : First piece of posted vikings work and I’m realising it’s small for a oneshot / mini fic. Whoops. Othere makes an appearance as well as some other characters as Ubbe has a vision of Valhalla.

Has everything been a waste? All this for nothing? 

Ubbe's eyes are heavy and he fights every instinct to close them; an internal struggle to add to the never-ending external one. He looks about the ship with what little strength he retains. Torvi is weakening - Gods know how their child, baby Ragnar, has survived for so long - and Othere looks to be following.

The sun beats down upon parched lips and the water buckets are scraped dry by those still able to crawl to them. Forgotten are the days of sharing equally because none exists. A sad truth that will most likely be the end of them all.

Rough hands run themselves over his face, feeling the way his skin seems to flake away and Ubbe tries to remember the ocean's spray hitting him when he was young, travelling with his father and Hvitserk to Paris all those years ago. The expression that slowly takes couldn't be called a smile or resemble any kind of joy really but, if he closes his eyes, perhaps...

No.

Ubbe knows if he closes his eyes, even to rest for a while, they won't open again. His stomach growls like Fenrir and Torvi painfully looks to him. Their gazes rest tiredly with one another and there's a shared guilt. Anyone can recognise the look of a woman who's lost a child but for Torvi, that shroud lays over her face twofold. For both of Bjorn's children are gone now; lost first to the blade and then to the sea.

Would that he could take her into his arms and give some kind of comfort but the mere thought of moving is too much. It exhausts him and Ubbe feels the first of many tears slide easily down one cheek unchecked, catching it with the tip of his tongue as it comes to latch onto his cracked top lip.

Thoughts creep back to the whale and how Othere had claimed it would be a sign from his Christian God. Perhaps his Lord and the old Gods were watching now; both indecisive enough to let their subjects suffer for lack of commitment.

Clear blue eyes turn to the sky.

"Ubbe," Torvi's voice breaks the monotony of the stillness and Ubbe brings his attention to her slowly, careful not to exert himself. Every movement feels like death but he knows, should he die, others will follow within days from their broken hearts. 

It would be the same if Torvi died first.

"My beautiful wife." Paying such a compliment seems empty now but Ubbe does it anyway. What's the harm? Torvi smiles - proving she is just as strong as he's always believed her to be - and summons the strength to bring their child to him, settling once again at Ubbe's side just as she has been for years.

He looks down into the bundle, at the face of his son and begins to cry in earnest. He feels Torvi's forehead press tightly to the bolt in his jaw and vaguely he hears her speak. But nothing touches him so much as the temptation to let go now. In this moment, he is happy. For he has his family around him in the most impossible situation and it makes him sad for his father.

Alone in his final breaths.

Turning his face, with effort, Ubbe rests his lips to his wife's hair. It feels dry and coarse but he doesn't mind. It smells just as he remembers and despite their misfortunes, that fact alone is a comfort. Ubbe finds himself smiling as the smallest, most familiar of sounds scrapes itself from his throat.

"I love you."

It's all he can do to let Torvi know the depths of his feelings for her now. If they were back in Kattegat, he'd kiss her deeply, breathing in her life, take her to bed, gift her every part of him. But here? Those three simple words are all he has to give. They make him a poor man, indeed, but if all the silver in the world meant dying alone, he would gladly be a pauper to the end of his days with her.

And his eyes flutter then, closing as he inhales for what could be the last time.

The gates of Valhalla stand before him in their golden glory and, inside, he sees the faces of those great warriors, brought into the warm feasting hall for their courage. They each have a curved horn, filled to the brim with ale and their faces hold only smiles for Ubbe.

Ragnar, Lagertha, Bjorn.

Bjorn.

"Brother! Come!" Familiar voice encourages as a now unscathed hand is offered. "Come on. Everyone is here. We are all waiting for you!"

A feeling of utter ease overcomes Ubbe and he takes his first step forward; all hardships, injury and hunger forgotten in the euphoria of his journey. Until, from behind him, another more distant voice calls out.

"Ubbe!"

"Torvi?" He stops sharply, knowing exactly who owns that voice. Surely she cannot have followed so quickly? Turning - with every intention of embracing her - Ubbe finds nothing. Just an open plain of the greenest grass he's ever seen and the tranquillity of birds overhead. Every fibre of his being screams to be reunited with his brothers and father, his mother and other warriors he's lost in his life, but the urgency of his wife erases such a need with absolute surety.

Valhalla must wait.

With a last look back at Bjorn's face, and the nod his brother gives in understanding, Ubbe smiles and allows himself to be pulled away from the embracing calm and back into the storm of his first life.

"Ubbe, there's water. Drink." The large hand feels foreign as it settles at the crown of his head, providing a little comfort as he opens his eyes. A drop of rain clings to Othere's nose, threatening to fall, and his expression is one filled with relief. "Drink, my friend."

One of Ubbe's own hands reaches up to hold the ladle that's set close to his mouth. He drinks slowly, savouring each sip as though he well knows it could be his last.

"What did you see?" The question comes from Torvi, soaked to the bone beside him.

"Valhalla."

She blinks at him, arm coming to lay upon his own for a moment before her fingers seek his, holding tight. "What was it like?"

"Full. But also empty. You were not there, so I could not stay." There are tears in Ubbe's blue eyes as he leans his aching body to touch his forehead to Torvi's. "Nothing could make me leave you. Not even death."

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Not Today XXI

A/N: So, I wrote the end of this chapter in April. I had... next to no idea when I was going to get to use it, because all I knew was it would come while they were on the Silk Road, and I don't have a chapter plan for this fic. This chapter ended up being a bit long again, but with the ending scene... I really think it's worth it. I really look forward to seeing what y'all think of this chapter, I personally am very happy with it. I might make a more detailed post about what the ending of this chapter means. Until then, enjoy the update! Skål!

Summary:  When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

--

While Aethelind and Ivar were sitting on the rock, their paths were crossed by a man with a cart, who was making his way down the road. He stopped when he saw them, noticing how the man on the ground was leaning against the rock, his head laid in the woman's lap. Ivar had fallen asleep there, while she was messing with his hair, and she hadn't stopped once he had. They both deserved some peace, she thought, and a little bit of rest. They were far enough along that his brothers wouldn't find them there, not just yet.

When the man stopped, Aethelind looked up at him. He noticed her gaze, and so he asked, "Do you two need help?"

Aethelind shrugged, smiling a little. "We've stopped to rest," she answered. "He has a hurt leg, it was bothering him. We'll be alright."

The man noticed the crutch then, and he nodded slowly. He had no way of knowing that this wasn't the full truth, that a 'hurt leg' was really two legs which wouldn't well support Ivar's weight. But, he knew that someone who was injured wouldn't be able to easily travel along the road. That was just common sense.

"Where are you two going?" he questioned then, and Aethelind kept her smile warm. Ivar was beginning to stir due to the conversation.

"We're just wanderers," she said vaguely. "So... wherever the road and the gods take us, I suppose." Ivar gave a little hum as his eyes opened, and he looked up at her. She made a quick decision, to keep their identities secret. "Hello, sleepyhead," she said sweetly to Ivar, and leaned down to kiss his forehead affectionately. The look he gave her was very confused, but the man couldn't see his expression, fortunately. Before he could ask anything, she said, "I was just telling this man here about our travels, how we've turned ourselves over to the gods to see where they'll take us."

Ivar was quick, thankfully, and he nodded. "Ah, of course," he said. "And what else have you been discussing?" In other words, Catch me up, so I know what not to say.

"I told him how you've hurt your leg," she answered. She looked back up at the newcomer, and easily said, "I don't know if you're married, but finding my husband lying there with a broken leg just about broke my heart."

Ivar wanted to look at her with the extreme What?! he'd thought, but he merely hummed and gave her a tight smile.

"Well, if you're just wandering," the man said. "I'm on my way to the Silk Road. I've got some trading to do along it, but I could give you two a ride, if you'd like. Don't want to make a hurt man walk more than he needs."

Immediately, Ivar felt like protesting. But Aethelind saw the opportunity this presented, and so she grinned, nodding eagerly. "You're truly a blessing from the gods, sir," she said. "Thank you." With that, she stood up, and Ivar let out a little sound of protest as if he wanted her to come back. She took his crutch and offered it to him, so he could get to his feet. He wasn't wearing any of his braces, though, and so he gave her a look as if to ask, What do you want me to do with that?

Aethelind grimaced as she realised this, and looked to the leg braces, still abandoned at the river. He'd risk really breaking a leg, if he stood right now. So, she went and grabbed his arm braces, and brought those to him. While he put those on, she collected his leg braces and put them on the cart.

"What are those?" the man questioned curiously, and Aethelind chuckled softly.

"Oh, these? We stopped back in Kattegat and had them made to help his leg," she lied. "They've done wonders for his mobility while he's hurt, but..." She gave a shrug. "They can only do so much before we still need to rest, hm?"

Ivar blinked a few times as he heard her effortlessly crafting this cover story. She was brilliant, and he wondered where exactly she learned to cover so well. Perhaps it was at court. After all, he'd heard that the English courts had a tendency to be rather... complicated, he supposed one could say. She must have gotten good at covering for her absences, or other various infractions while there.

Once his arm braces were on, Ivar flipped himself over, and crawled up to the cart, which he managed to pull himself up onto with a little of her help in stabilizing the thing. Just to sell the story that he was her husband, she rubbed his leg affectionately, and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. The man gave a small nod, and went to his horse to start her off again. "What are your names?" the man called back.

And, here was the part Aethelind wasn't sure of. The only Norse names she knew were those which would surely be recognized. Ivar, however, was quick to answer the man. "My name is Erik," he said. "My wife is Ingrid." Thankful for the quick thinking on his part, Aethelind reached over and took his hand, giving it a grateful squeeze. He smiled at her a little, prompting her to smile in return.

"Erik and Ingrid," the man said. "My name is Gunnar."

"It's good to meet you, Gunnar," Aethelind replied, and settled in against Ivar. He wrapped his arm around her instinctively, then, which earned a smile from the Shieldmaiden.

For a few weeks, they travelled with Gunnar, who was quite a kind man they both realized. He was older than them both by quite a few years, closer in age perhaps to Ivar's parents. Any question he asked, they were able to come up with an answer for easily between themselves, and so it never came to be suspicious to him, their background.

Each night, the small group would stop, have dinner together- some sort of stew usually prepared off of what they could find around. Aethelind and Gunnar would hunt, and Ivar would get a fire started. They’d come back, put it together with some of the rations Gunnar had brought, and share the meal amongst themselves.

After they would eat, they’d all settle in to sleep, and according to the tale they told, Aethelind would sleep very near to Ivar. As the nights grew colder, Ivar’s legs began to ache more, and it became harder for him to sleep. One night, as he laid there trying to get comfortable- failing to do so- he noticed something different.

Aethelind was shaking in her sleep, the cold seeping into her just as it was him. He chanced a glance down at Gunnar, noticed the man was sleeping still, and so he flipped onto his stomach and crawled to her. Putting his hand over her mouth, he shook her gently, and whispered her name to wake her.

The Shieldmaiden woke with a start, looking at him with wide eyes before she recognized him, and relaxed. “What is it?” she whispered to him. He gestured with his hand for her to follow him, and he crawled back to where he had been laying. She did as he said, and when he laid down, with one arm out, she gave him a confused look.

“You were shaking,” he answered her as softly as he could. “It is cold, and you should not freeze here.”

She smiled softly and nodded, before lying beside him. Ivar wrapped an arm around her, and she gave a soft hum as she settled in. “Thank you,” she whispered, looking up at him in the dark. “For noticing.”

Ivar gave the sort of noncommittal shrug which spoke of his reluctance to accept the gratitude. “I was also cold,” he said, and she chuckled softly.

“Of course,” she teased. “Well, then I’m very glad I was able to assist you.”

He rolled his eyes in an amused sort of way, and reached with his free arm to grab his cloak, covering them both with it. “Go to sleep, Shieldmaiden,” he said. “We have long travels ahead.”

“Very well, Boneless,” she whispered in response. She let her hand come up to cup his cheek briefly. “Sleep well.” Her hand moved down to rest on his chest as she closed her eyes and settled in to sleep, unaware entirely of how that little action had made him stay up, deep in thought, the rest of the night.

Gunnar made no comment about the pair the next morning, about having woken to find them lying together for the first time on their trip. Truthfully, he had been a bit surprised when they slept apart each night, seeing as they were husband and wife. Or, so they said.

He hadn’t told them that he had come from Kattegat. Gunnar was a trader, had meant to set up there, and had arrived mere hours after the battle. Seeing there was no market set up, he left some supplies for the wounded, and moved along. The rest Ivar and Aethelind had taken gave him enough time to catch them, though he hadn’t meant to.

News in the city had been that Ivar the Boneless was on the move, with his Prophet at his side. Gunnar hadn’t ever seen Ivar or the Prophet with his own eyes, but finding a man who had to crawl, or walk with braces on his leg and a crutch, with a woman at his side… He was nearly certain he had stumbled upon Ivar the Boneless and his Prophet.

If he ignored the warning signs of the truth of this matter, pictured the pair as a loving wife with her injured husband, he could lull himself into a false sense of security, and so that was what he tried to do. Most times, it worked. But every once in a while, something would happen to break that illusion. Something such as the pair not sleeping side by side, as a Viking man likely would do with his wife, regardless of company.

As they travelled the next day, something happened which made him unable to pretend any longer.

‘Erik’ and ‘Ingrid’ were sitting on the back of his cart as usual as they went along the Silk Road, and he saw the excitement in the former’s eyes as he looked around at all he saw. They’d stopped at one stand, and the merchant had let a bird walk up his arm. The woman who called herself Ingrid had grinned, told the man who was probably Ivar that he looked quite handsome with that bird on his shoulder, and he had teasingly asked her if that meant he was not normally handsome.

All had been well for a while, until they’d finally come to a stretch of land where there were no merchants, no markets for quite a few miles. Ivar had fallen quiet, and Aethelind noticed this. Taking his hand, she whispered to him, “What’s on your mind, love?”

He gave her hand a small squeeze and looked up at the horizon they seemed to be travelling ever away from. “Freydis would have liked that bird, I think,” he commented.

Aethelind swallowed at the mention of her. “She would have,” she agreed. “Do you remember that blue dress she wore? With the red in it?” Ivar nodded. “Its colors reminded me of that dress.”

Ivar gave a tight lipped smile, and nodded with a quiet, “Hm.”

Things were quiet for a few moments, and Aethelind finally whispered, “Do you think things would have been different if I had come in a few moments sooner?”

At this point, Gunnar was certain they had fought in Kattegat. Whether that meant they were Ivar and the Prophet, he didn’t know just yet. It was possible ‘Erik’s leg had been broken in the battle, and they’d fought for Ivar, and so run from Björn Ironside before the battle ended. Hearing them speak now of a ‘Freydis’, which he knew had been the name of Ivar’s queen, had him certain at least that they’d been on the Boneless King’s side.

“You might have changed nothing,” Ivar said, holding her hand a little tighter. “You’d have had to have gone instead of me.”

She sighed. “Wish I had. I’d rather he separated from her by choice, rather than by death.”

Ivar gave a sigh. “It is by choice,” he said. “We all made choices that have led us to where we are. She chose to betray the King. You chose to let me go to her instead, and she chose to confess to me. I chose to spare her the humiliation of being tried for treason.”

Aethelind huffed at his answer. “You could have chosen to spare her entirely,” she said. His brows lifted as he looked at her, and noticed for the first time the hardness of anger in her eyes.

“You know I loved her,” he began. She laughed bitterly and released his hand, dropping off the still moving cart so she could walk alongside it. Surprise showed on his face. “What? Are you angry with me now, hm?”

She laughed a little louder. “Of course I am angry!” she confirmed. “You didn’t have to do what you did! I chose to save you because I care for you, and because I could not save her. But I loved her too. I sat behind her when she delivered Baldur, I cared for her when he passed. Did you never notice how, some mornings, she and I would appear together? Those were the mornings after the nights she would forego her bed, and come to me.”

Ivar realized she had mentioned the name of his son, of the son of Ivar the Boneless, in addition to them both freely saying Freydis’s name. He hissed out her false name, trying to get her attention, to warn her, as they walked along. But she took this as him trying to silence her, and so she snapped, “No! No, I get to be angry about this! I spent my nights after Baldur’s death with Freydis in my bed, holding her and comforting her because you could not accept what had happened!”

“Ingrid,” he tried again, his eyes widened and stressed. The cart had stopped moving, and she had simply stopped with it, still continuing to fume.

“I had no idea of what she intended to do,” Aethelind continued on, ignoring his warning once more. “But I do understand why she did it. Instead of coming along beside her, you turned against her and blamed her for his death! I saved you because I couldn’t take losing one more person, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind to your role in her death, Iv-”

“You’re Ivar the Boneless.”

Aethelind froze in the middle of her words, holding Ivar’s gaze for a moment as she suddenly realized what he’d been trying to tell her. His eyes closed and his jaw tensed, and she turned to face Gunnar.

“And you’re the one they call the Prophet,” he said.

She swallowed hard, eyes narrowing. “And if we are?” she questioned. Her hand was on her sword now, in case he caused trouble.

“You are,” Gunnar said. “I had my suspicions when I first picked you up, but my suspicions were weak enough, filled with enough doubt, that I couldn’t be certain. I am now, though.”

Almost in the blink of an eye, Aethelind had drawn her sword and grabbed Gunnar, holding the sword to his throat. “If you breathe a word of this, you’re a dead man,” she hissed. “We’ve come too far now to let a merchant be our downfall.”

Gunnar swallowed hard as he looked down at her sword, and then into her eyes. “I won’t tell,” he promised. Her eyes stared back into his, debating on what he said.

“Ivar,” she called, without turning. “Do you believe this man?”

Ivar hummed from his place on the back of the cart, having turned to see what was happening. Gunnar looked to him, fear evident in his eyes, and Ivar chuckled darkly.

“I believe him for now,” he said. “And there is no one here for him to tell, anyway. Let him live.”

Aethelind pulled her sword away, and sheathed it. “We continue on,” she told Gunnar. 

He nodded and, heart pounding, moved to guide his horse once more. Aethelind returned to her place sitting at Ivar’s side.

“I tried to warn you,” he said.

She replied, “Shut up.”

The first and only warning to Gunnar came that night, as the three were eating dinner as they always did. Aethelind had asked where the nearest town was, acting as if she were merely curious, or hoping to get some better supplies then. Gunnar had, out of fear of what would happen if he lied, answered her honestly.

They finished their meals and settled in for the night, with Aethelind curling up against Ivar’s side as had become habit for the pair.

Once Gunnar had fallen asleep, Ivar turned to whisper to Aethelind, “We need to break off from him. He is a risk now that we cannot take.”

She nodded a little, and rolled up so she was looking down at Ivar. If Gunnar woke, so long as she spoke quietly, it would appear to him that they were merely sharing a moment, that perhaps Ivar and his Prophet had… more than a strictly professional relationship.

“I agree,” she replied. “I’m going to get your braces. Put them on, and get ready to leave with your crutch. We’ll get rid of him and take his money. We can use it for something in the next town.”

Ivar nodded to agree with her plan, though secretly, he was concerned about her willingness to do something like this. Gunnar had never been unkind to them- quite the opposite, in fact. He was a kind man, one who didn’t deserve what was happening to him. But that was the tragedy, wasn’t it? Aethelind hadn’t deserved to lose her closest friend, at his hands.

With his approval, Aethelind silently got up, brought his crutch and the lighter of the braces, and then returned with the heavier. He began to put them on as he watched her go to Gunnar, and kneel beside him. He was sleeping on his back, blissfully unaware, and she swallowed.

Ignoring the twisting in her heart, Aethelind prayed silently for forgiveness before she unsheathed her sword, and slit his throat. His death was mercifully quick, and would have been painless for the most part, assuming he never woke.

She searched his body for money, and found some, which she tucked away on her person before going to his cart. Finding the rest of the money he had stashed away, she put that on the horse, and released the cart from her.

The sound of Ivar’s crutch approaching told her everything she needed to know, and she turned to see him approaching her, on his feet once more. Admittedly, she was glad to see him walking again. It felt good to see.

“Why are you taking the horse?” he asked her, and she answered,

“We’ll sell her. The more money we have, the better.”

Ivar nodded, and they set off down the road once more.

As it turned out, Gunnar’s directions to the next town had been entirely accurate, and once there they easily sold his horse to the first stable they found, and collected quite a large amount for her.

There was an inn in that little town, and so Ivar and Aethelind chose to stop in there for the night. They got warm meals and a cup of ale each with some of the money, but their presence had drawn attention. Even if news of the events in Kattegat hadn’t yet reached this far, people knew who Ivar the Boneless was, knew how to recognize him by the braces he wore on his legs, and the crutch he required to walk. Like Gunnar, they couldn’t be certain of the man in this inn’s identity, but they could have their suspicions, and they could discuss them as such.

Aethelind bought them a room for the night, keeping to the story that they had initially given Gunnar, and they were provided the key along with their meals. She noticed the gazes of many people on them, but one particular group of people caught her eye. It was a group of men, all armed, and they were almost unnerving. Not enough for her to heed Ivar’s warnings not to approach them, but enough to actually make her feel the need to do so.

“So, what are you lot, then?” she asked, stopping at their table and leaning on it. The men sitting there chuckled a little as they looked up at her.

“I can be a king if that’s what you want, sweetheart,” one of them answered, but the glare from her shut him up quickly.

“Met kings. Fought kings. Titles don’t impress,” she said sharply. “I asked what you are, not what you could be. Are you lot sellswords?”

“We are,” one confirmed, and she looked to him then. “You looking to buy?”

Without so much as a word, she put the coin purse she’d pulled from Gunnar’s body on the table, and watched them all look at it.

“Meet me back here in the morning,” she said. “I’ll tell you what we need, and if you choose to let us hire you, I’ll give you half the rest then. The full amount will be paid upon completion of service.”

“See you in the morning then, Princess,” the one who seemed to be their leader almost sneered. Her own sword was pulled and pointed at his throat in a flash.

“Call me that again, and you don’t live to see a coin more,” she threatened, and then returned to Ivar. “Erik, let’s go.”

Ivar got up and followed her to their room, shooting a glare at the man who’d attempted twice to flirt with Aethelind. He took her hand with his free one to make a point.

Finally getting to shave off the beard he’d grown on this journey was something Ivar hadn’t realised he’d looked so forward to, but he really had. He’d done it while Aethelind was getting into bed, so when he came and got in beside her, she laughed and ran her fingers over the freshly smoothed skin.

“Ivar the Boneless,” she quipped. “Welcome back.”

The next morning, they met the sellswords and struck an agreement. They would travel to the end of the Silk Road with Ivar and his Prophet, which Aethelind and Ivar had elected to confirm for them were their identities, and ensure they arrived safely. It ended up being the fame of having served Ivar the Boneless which won them over, and so they set out.

Using some of the money they had left, Aethelind bought something of a rolling seat for Ivar’s use, which they attached to one of the horses the sellswords had. Settled in, they continued their journey north.

One night, as Ivar and Aethelind laid how they always did, he found himself unable to sleep. The past months were replaying in his mind again and again, along with the argument he and Aethelind had had.

He didn’t realise she was awake, when he first began to speak to her. Her face wasn’t visible with the way he was holding her, his chin resting on the top of her head. They hadn’t been this far north yet in their travels, and he was glad for the extra warmth she provided. Unknown to him, she was also glad for the extra warmth he provided.

Aethelind thought, perhaps, he had unknowingly saved her. She hadn’t brought any of her furs from Kattegat, any of the thick dresses she had gained while there. Only her sword hung at her side, and as they travelled, his cloak wrapped around her shoulders. He’d given it to her to wear after the first night they’d shared its warmth. And so throughout the day, it was as if his warmth protected her from falling to the cold. And at night, she knew it may as well have only been his warmth which saved her.

But, it was also her warmth which saved him. The way her eyes had pleaded with him to go, to escape from the longhouse, and to escape Kattegat before his brothers came, was incredible. He had always remembered the softness in her eyes when she said goodbye to him, when they were still children in Wessex. This was the first time he had seen such softness reflected in her eyes again. That day, she had promised to miss him. And then, years later, she promised not to lose him.

Ivar couldn’t understand why. She had seen the worst of him, as King of Kattegat. Everything he did there, those he killed for no purpose, those he’d had killed, what he’d done to his own son…

He swallowed hard as he tried to shut out the memories of Baldur’s quiet cries in the forest, and later still the dead silence when his cries of hunger and thirst finally ceased, until it was broken by Freydis’s sobs at the loss of their son.

As if the closeness to her could chase these thoughts away, Ivar pressed his face into her hair, before taking a deep breath. The way she shifted, as if to accommodate his movement, made him swallow hard.

It was so like her to silently accommodate, to do what needed doing without a word, and it was just the right thing to push Ivar over the edge.

Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he held her tighter to himself, and he would never know the way her heart ached as she felt him let out that first sob. Nor would he know how she hated the pain in the words that spilled from his lips.

“Why did you do this?” His words were barely a whisper, and yet so clear to her, as clear as ice. “After all I have done, why do you stay, hm? I killed your closest friend. She died by my hands, her blood stains my hands, and yet you choose to follow me into the cold and dark?” His voice was rough, and cracking, under the emotion, and just slightly irritated, as if he felt weak for the display. She knew his voice well enough now, just as well as she knew him, to know he was not angry with her, but himself, at the regret in his chest.

He continued, “I cannot understand you. You came to me disheveled, having struggled to be at my side, after the pain I caused you. You think I missed the betrayal in your eyes, when you came to my side. So why do you stay? I called you a prophet, but I begin to believe you truly must be so. What do you know that has not yet come to pass? What have you seen?” She swallowed back the tears that wanted to fall at his broken pleas for answers, the strangled confessions that only barely escaped.

“Why do you gift me with your loyalty? I don’t deserve it… I don’t deserve you, my sweet Shieldmaiden. My Asta, I don’t deserve you.”

That one word, Aethelind had not yet learned. Asta. Her mind pondered its meaning even as Ivar fell asleep beneath her finally, until the steady rise and fall of his chest eventually lulled her to sleep as well. But until then, no thought filled her mind other than what that word might have meant, and why he had called her by it.

Asta- from the Old Norse ást (n.) meaning, “love”.

--

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @wilhelmyna, @katfett, @fangirl-nonsense, @zuzus-sun, @heavenly1927, @pomegranates-and-blood

If you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to reach out either by commenting, reblogging, DMing me, or sending an ask, and I’ll be more than happy to add you!

[studentville-struggles]

A Double Life

Chapter 5!!

A self-indulgent Daniel Ricciardo fic.

Summary: Returning to old passions results in the start of chaos and living a double life. We say we hate chaos, but the thrill is unlike anything else.

Words: 1,941

Masterlist // Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

F1 was no joke.  

PhD’s were no joke.

You were exhausted. Exhausted didn’t even begin to cover how you felt. Were you dying? Who even knew at this point.  

One monday your legs finally gave out as you were walking into university, collapsing from the exhaustion you were fighting. Thankfully you had just made it into your building, the porters quick to call a medic. You actually ended up having to take a couple of days off of lab work and go home and just spend some time sleeping and spending time with your parents. Your supervisors were so worried for your health and the stress you had been putting yourself under they pretty much banned you from the lab for a week.  

You still did the workouts you needed to and prepped for races from home. You just did everything on more than five hours sleep. The luxury. It was so damn needed.

Speaking on the phone to Lando one night, the two of you becoming closer friends since being team mates and him checking in more frequently since finding out about you collapsing, you had been joking about how nice sleep was. 

“I used to think that being ordinary was boring. Now I’d do anything for a 10 hour nap and a chippy.”

Your little exhaustion moment had scared you a little bit. You’d always managed to do everything. You could have two intense lives and work it. You had felt that for the last three years you mastered juggling a double life. Was it finally coming to crumble around you? Was this it, was the dream over?  

You wouldn’t allow it. You couldn’t. Youd fought so hard for this, to have your cake and eat it. It was never meant to be easy and you knew that, this was just one more thing to overcome. Once you had your PhD you would be able to live any life you wanted. You might even be able to sleep seven hours a night on the regular.  

You would make this double life work for a little longer, you had to.

Having re-evaluated routines and switching things up so that you could make the most of both lives whilst still being healthy, you were feeling confident, comfortable and it was growing with each race that passed. Sure, not all of the results were what you dreamed off; after all you were yet to tip Lewis off his pedestal, but you were getting there. Getting the car to do your bidding was the first half of the challenge. Now you just needed to do that, but better than every one else on the track.

The other thing to come out of your health scare; especially after some of the drivers have commented on your less deathly appearance was an interesting change in your friendship with a certain Australian.  

Sure, you had the big change from thinking he was rude to being caught smiling at his texts, to hanging out in Australia at the start of the season. That you had kind of seen coming; but this? This was unexpected, and you weren’t quite sure what to make of it currently.

After finding out about your little incident, Daniels’ entire energy changed. He was visibly concerned about you, whether you were better now, how you were doing getting everything under control for good. His reaction to discovering the in-depth extremeness of your routine having binged watched your show – he claimed it was a curious interest to occupy his flight but you knew it was to be nosey and you didn’t mind that – was even stranger He had effectively cornered you at the paddock in China with a written out list and spluttering of expletives with the general message of “what the fuck, no wonder you're exhausted.’.  

The frequency at which you two texted and chatted was steadily rising as your friendship bloomed but after his discovery of ‘the incident’, it had sky rocketed. Both in general conversation, but also in his concern for you overdoing things. He’s started to make a point, like Lewis often does, to ensure you take a bit of time for you and to relax; so movie and game nights are now a little thing you get when you meet up for a face to face catch up.

The vibes between the two of you were shifting ever so slightly and you weren’t entirely sure where there were setting themselves.

---

You were very lucky in that your family would often come to support you, especially your mum and dad. Albeit your mum couldn’t watch half of the races due to her fear that her little girl was going to be hurt, but she was there every chance she had.  

As the season progressed and you were getting some races closer to home, you felt it was about time to invite the main group of people who were yet to see this side of you. Given the intense patience and grace they had given to you, supporting you though everything and allowing your camera crew all access; it was time to invite your boss. Well your other boss. Your supervisor.

Getting back into the swing of things at work in the lab after the Spanish Grand Prix, you felt it was finally time to give back to your lab family.

“I’d like to take you to work next week, and maybe a few others once I check numbers.” Your supervisor knew what ‘work’ meant for you but with more and more people questioning your regular three day weeks, you were starting to feel like letting your two worlds collide a little more.  

“Where is work next week? Monaco?”  

“Yup. I’ll give my media team a ring and see how many we can take including hotels and go from there”  

“Including?!”  

“Full VIP, would be rude of me not to.”  

A short phone call later, with some rough numbers figured out, you had five full VIP passes at your disposal. Given you rarely have guests at Grand Prix’ they allowed a few extra tickets this time. As one would imagine with a free weekend in Monaco, the academic staff in your research group snapped up those tickets in no time. Of course, with the amount of time spent in your offices and labs, you were safely assuming three of the five had no idea what your job was, though were very curious as to how and why it was taking you to Monaco.  

Academic life was no joke. Everyone was busy, everyone had very little free time. Watching sports was only done by super fans really. There weren’t any motorsport super fans in your office and somehow both your show and driving career had still remained unquestioned. How that was true with the camera crew still following you around, you had no idea.  

You had sent out a rough, and very vague itinerary, reminding them to be ready to leave work at 6 pm on Wednesday, heading straight to the airport. You had also sent strict dress code instructions- the smarter end of smart casual, knowing that they would likely, if not definitely, be appearing on camera.  

With some of your team meeting you at the airport, ready to get your race weekend media started, the confusion of your university colleagues was growing. It peaked as they had you film a short clip to start the weekends media off, it was only a short Instagram story, post hair touch up, to say hi to fans.  

“Hey guys, just me taking over the Instagram stories! We’ve just arrived at the airport to head over to Monaco! Can’t wait to see you guys this weekend and I’ve even brought a few colleagues from the university so you’ll be seeing my two worlds collide as well! See you soon!” Waving at the camera, you cut the video. With all thumbs up from your team, you uploaded it to your team Instagram, views piling in almost immediately.  

“Rachel what the hell do you do?!”

“Oh you’ll see soon enough, I don’t want to ruin the surprise now.” You teased, surprisingly enjoying the suspense.  

Walking up to the private jet having gone through security with ease, the shock was only increasing, though you everyone was feeling very excited for the flight now they saw the plane. Things were fairly calm after this, the journey quick, smooth and you avoided giving too much away.  

Arriving at the hotel you sent everyone off to their rooms, giving timings for meeting the next morning. You would be leaving before them to start greeting the media and doing some press conferences before your track walks, and so had arranged for a few cars to be sent for transferring the rest over to the main hub. Once they were all happy with the plans, not that you’d given many details, merely timings, you could head to your room where Daniel had snuck over waiting to reunite.  

He had many complaints about spending the evening having your catch up in a hotel when he had a perfectly good home a few minutes away. At some point during the evening, after the food had been demolished, the words said and a crappy Netflix original on the tv, the two of you had fallen asleep. When you woke a couple of hours later, you were awkwardly hunched on the sofa still, somehow having entangled yourself with Daniels body.  

Realising that it was far too late to send Daniel home, you both needed sleep if you were to survive the media day, and you couldn’t send him on his way in the small hours of the morning. Trying not to wake him too harshly, you start untangling yourself from the mess of legs. With Daniel starting to stir, you grab his hand, wordlessly pulling him from the sofa, over to the hotel bed.  

Still in the silence the middle of the night brings, Daniel shed the majority of his clothing, slipping under the covers in only his underwear, with you following soon after as you quickly change into your sleepwear.  

For something so foreign in your friendship, the ease and comfort at which you snuggled together, falling asleep again under the covers, was almost unnerving. Almost. In your sleepy state, you couldn’t recognise that, only time would reveal that.  

--

Having snuck off to begin your media day trackside, you were eager to see your lab colleague's reaction to where they were. It was as you were heading back into McLarens hospitality that you, as well as the whole group, could see the full magnitude of this job and how it differed to the Rachel they were used to seeing in the office.  

“You’re a driver?”  Shock? Disbelief? You couldn’t quite tell but the reaction was  

“Yes”

“What the fuck? But you’re in the lab like 10 hours a day”

“Now you know why I don’t have time to get things done otherwise in my three-day weeks.”

Once the shock wore off, the excitement and initial questions had settled, you set the group up with timings for the day and let them wander round the paddock freely as you headed back to your meetings, promising to see them during the lunch break.  

Having your worlds united felt good. It felt as though some of the pressure you hadn’t realised was there from keeping them separate, was melting away.  Although the feeling that was beginning to bubble away every time you bumped into Daniel was very close to being a distraction.

You needed to drive; just get in the car and block everything else out. 

[trainsinanime]

I think in retrospect, my post bitching about Ladrien was a mistake. It was written out of frustration, in response to a post that I perceived as trying to push Ladrien as morally superior to Marichat. That was probably not the right way to read this post. And even if it had been, the correct response would certainly not have been to vague-tumble (sub-tumble?) about it. I should just delete it.

…or I can double down and post more controversial Miraculous Ladybug shipping hot takes. Which one of these would be more fun? Difficult, difficult…

Adrigami vs Lukanette

I have seen more than one post argue that people prefer Lukanette over Adrigami because of racism, or because Kagami is too pushy, or similar. Now, for the record, I prefer anything above Lukanette and I personally love to ship Adrigaminette (specifically the version where everyone involved is really stupid about it). But I don’t think the moralistic argument can explain all of why Lukanette is so popular.

The problem is that we all love our point of view character Marinette and want good things to happen to her. Yes, there are exceptions in the fandom, but those are a small minority, no matter how loud they are. Adrigami is fun, interesting, engaging, they have both common points and interesting conflicts, and I’d absolutely love to watch a show about it… but Adrigami has one key drawback: It makes Marinette sad. And nobody wants that.

Lukanette, on the other hand, doesn’t make anyone (in universe) sad. Adrien and Kagami are okay with it, and it doesn't seem to affect Marinette's emotional state at all. (Yeah, sorry, not a fan of Luka, but I'll try not to dwell on it because my reasons for not liking him are not interesting, much like he is.)

Lukanette also works really well if you want to be salty about stuff but aren’t willing to go full Batman. The main salt objection to Adrien is that Chat Noir can be too pushy with his romantic feelings, which is arguably true, and that this means he is a horrible person, which I don’t exactly agree with. That cannot be said about Luka, who has no flaws, wishes, character motivation or similar nasty things that could get in the way.

All of these factors have nothing to do with Kagami whatsoever. Now, if you’re wondering why Lukanette is more popular than Kagaminette, then we’re getting somewhere.

Next up, more controversial opinions about other pairings:

Adrienette

Horrible, awful. Adrinette is king.

Marichat

Just to reiterate: I love Marichat moments. I don’t think regular Marichat dates, whether that is romantic dates or friend dates, works at all. Marichat lives from the fact that they’re both friends, yes, but also from the low-key spy vs spy antics where they try to convince each other that they’re not actually best friends yet. (Ladrien could do the same but they’re too busy awkwardly blushing at each other to get any sustained antics going)

Ladynoir

These two do not go on patrols in canon. I know every fan claims so, but there’s no canon evidence, except for Dark Owl/Hibou Noir, where the regular patrols are clearly established as something unusual that both of them want to end soon. Yes, I know there’s one instagram post, and supposedly one tweet (not that I’ve ever seen it), but it’s not in the show. And let’s be real, why would they go on patrols? Hawkmoth canonically creates Akumas whenever, including frequently during school hours. Patrols can’t help against that. That’s why our heroes canonically use alerting apps.

The reason why people love patrols is because it gets Ladynoir together without having to invent an Akuma. I can see the appeal behind that… but honestly, isn’t that just lazy? The show generally makes sure to show us the tail end of the adventure that brought them together this time, and I think that is more fun. Alternatively, sometimes, the show just doesn’t bother to explain why they’re together in costume at all (e.g. the end of Chat Blanc), and it turns out that this is also a thing you can do and nobody will hate you for it.

Adrinette

This may be my most controversial opinion yet, but I want these two crazy kids to kiss and hold hands and grow old together.

Adrigaminette

Yes, I know it'll never be canon. But I refuse to believe that they didn't realise people would ship it when they wrote the beginning of Heart Hunter. That whole sequence seems like it was designed to get me to ship it, and you know what? It succeeded.

Maribat aka Daminette

Kill it with fire.

Alyanette

We don’t have enough of this.

Alyadrien

People, including Zag, are sleeping on what a great platonic friendship pairing this could be. Just those two geeking out about how great Ladybug, Marinette, Nino and Carapace are.

Kagaminette

I have nothing but love for this pairing; I'm just including it here for completeness.

GabeNath

The problem with that ship is that I don’t want good things to happen to either of these people. Which means I'm perfectly okay with the canon version of this ship, where it's clear that both of them are emotionally stunted, callous and immoral and are never going to find happiness. The fact that it’s technically cheating only adds to that. I am not fond of fan versions where these two and Adrien are one happy family, though.

DJWifi

The pairing is perfect, but I have to say: Lady WiFi is cooler and fits better for Alya than Rena Rouge. Who ever thought to give the journalist the Miraculous that is all about lying and deception?

I’m very okay with Nino not being the Bubbler, though.

JuleRose

Come on Zag, they deserve to be unambiguously canon.

MarcNath

See JuleRose. Actually, I think when directly compared to JuleRose, they could really do with some more development, some more scenes of them together. I do ship it, but they seemed to have gotten the “official unacknowledged gay boys couple” almost out of nowhere.

MarcNath where Nath means Nathalie

I don’t think it would be a good idea at all, but the troll part in me (which is responsible for this post existing in the first place) thinks it might be worth exploring.

MariLila

We need more of this ultimate crack ship.

Adrigamilukanette

Get rid of Luka and then we’re talking.

Chloegami

I used to think it was a stupid idea but I’ve read a number of very well written slow-burn stories about them, so now I ship it.

Felinette

I don’t get it at all. I feel like I should write more about it in a post like this, but I'm mostly just baffled by its existence.

Lukagami

Kagami deserves better.

Juleka/Lila

I just saw that this tag exists, on a "here are my drabbles" fic that was last updated in 2018, before it got to the Juleka/Lila part, and now I’m both intrigued and frustrated.

Adrichat

Hah, you had almost forgotten about that, hadn’t you?

[ethekitchenator]

You know, it's funny, even though I haven't watched the show since (the disaster) season 12, a part of me is still incredibly sad that Supernatural has ended.

When the show first came out, my best friend and I loved it. We would joke that Dean was hers and Sam was mine, and we would talk for ages over what was happening.

Due to the time it started airing around season 3, I had to stop watching it, and mostly got snippets from friends over what was happening. By the time I hit uni, there were even more fans there, who spoiled more than a few things for me, but I still wasn't overly worried, I just kept telling myself that I'd watch it one day.

Then a couple of my main friends started rewatching it, around season 8 or 9 I think, and all I was ever told was "You will love Crowley". All throughout high school I was known for writing horror/dark supernatural stories, so that was always the response I got along with other vague descriptions.

"You will love Crowley."

I believe it was another year or so that I finally sat down and decided to rewatch it.

Those early seasons reminded me of the discussions my then best friend and I had. Then, I got even more enraptured as Castiel was brought onto the scene, the angel lore was exactly what I had been craving in the show from when I first used to watch it.

Then came Crowley.

I never told any of them, bar maybe one, that I did indeed love Crowley. I began to look forward to his appearances more and more, and always found myself...disappointed when he wasn't. The show was about Sam and Dean after all, but I always felt like they were underutilizing both Crowley and Castiel.

As season 11 ticked over into season 12, I started to realise that the writing and story telling wasn't going how I felt it should. As a writer myself, it suddenly became hard for me to turn away from the bad writing, I couldn't get as easily lost in the show as I once used to.

So when the ending of season 12 happened, when there was absolutely zero respect shown for my favourite character, I stopped. I was upset and angry and more than a little frustrated that something like this had happened, that a character that had been with the show for so long, that I felt brought a whole new level to it, was gone.

A part of me is still upset about it today, and you know what? That's okay. Things aren't always going to go the way you want them to, in anything, and if you make a choice in the moment, you can choose how that will stick with you.

For me, I first started to turn to fanfiction. Those of you that know me and my writing, know that I have a lot of Crowley fanfiction on my writing blog, even today I'm still writing away many fics involving him. He's worked his way into my heart and is refusing to let go. It didn't mean I didn't write for anyone else in the show, they all have a place with me forever, but Crowley was the one that had the biggest impact on me.

As I continued to watch the fandom go through the remaining seasons, caught snippets of things here and there, I began to see less and less of it around. It was...odd, whether it was from the Tumbr purge or people just really wanted to avoid spoilers, I don't know, but not seeing as much of it as I used to, even through snippets, made me somewhat sad. I didn't watch show anymore, but that fandom space was still apart of me.

Now that the show has officially ended, I find myself still mourning with you.

My opinion on the ending is rather irrelevant, as I've only heard it through the long posts, the memes, and the tears that have been shared around. Have I been impressed with what I've heard? No, both as a fan and as a writer, but then I also wasn't surprised due to my own reasons of stopping. Does it make me want to suck it up and watch the last few seasons? Not in any sort of hurry, but maybe one day, a few years from now, the pain may finally fade enough that I can try and stomach it.

My point through all this though, is it's okay to feel what you're feeling. Make your long posts about it all, spew words forth until your head hurts and your fingers bleed. These are characters, people, that have been with you for a long time now. Psychologically speaking, they are as real to you as your friends and family. If you're like me, then they've helped you through difficult periods in your life, and that is something that's hard to get through.

So do your posts, make your voice heard, but just also take a moment to have consideration for others too. The creators and actors and all those involved in the show, this is an ending for them too. It's probably more real for them than it is for you, and many tears will most likely be shed.

Make your posts, but don't go after the actors and creators. If you really want to say something to them, use your words and feedback constructively. Going out of your way to make threats, to tell them you hate them, or go to any of the other extremes is just not fair on them after years of hard work.

You have a right to be angry, but don't take it out on them.

You have a right to be overjoyed, but don't start fandom wars over it.

That was never the point of the show.

For me, as I said, I turned to writing fanfiction, I was giving a voice to the character I loved, and you know what? It's helped me go back to my own writing, it's helped me start to create my own worlds and characters again and given me inspiration for new ones that I'd never considered it before. My negativity from what the show did, I managed to turn into a positivity for myself. I made my posts at the time, voiced my anger, but I didn't go after anyone directly. I called creatives out on their bullshit, but never directly. I knew it would be pointless to do so, and doing so in anger is never going to be constructive.

I'm now at a point where I've seen this happen in multiple fandom, the last couple of years for me in these fandom spaces has not not been a fun time. So many endings I've seen have just lacked so much creativity, have just been so lazy in writing and directing, that it's made me frustrated with the industry as a whole.

So I'm turning the negative into a positive.

As someone whose dream and passion it is to create these shows, to write these movies, to tell these stories, I've now made a promise to myself to be better. In fact, I am determined to be better, and there is no one but myself standing in the way of doing that.

To those of you who hated the ending, I'm sorry it didn't give you the closure you wanted. I'm sorry that the show didn't live up to your expectations, but just remember, that it's never going to be fully over, that world, those people will always stay with you in one way or another. If you can, turn the negative into a positive, do something that helps you remember the good times of the show, or create your own versions if thats your thing.

To those of you who loved the ending, I'm happy for you, I'm happy that you got the closure you wanted. I'm happy that you can still look back on all those adventures and smile at the wild ride that it was. Most of you are probably still grieving too, and that's okay. When you're ready, turn it into something new and brilliant and keep looking forward.

I get that this has probably been a rather long post, but if you've read all the way through, I just want to thank you. Thank you for being part of a fandom that has become a family. It's far from perfect, but in our times of need, it's there, as all family should be.

When you're ready, we can all smile again, and while we may move onto other things, we all know that this is something that will always be here if you need it.

[nomadicbeard]

Hi! I saw on one of your posts you said that you used to be a stucky shipper. I actually started off as a stony shipper but then absolutely fell in love with stucky but I like both . I was just wondering what made you "jump ship" on stucky lol. Sorry if this comes across as annoying or anything im just curious!

Hey! As you can see a couple of people have asked me this over the last couple of weeks and I’m really lazy and haven’t got around to responding yet, but the people deserve an answer so here we go. Before we start a quick disclaimer: I’ll only be talking about the ships themselves, not the communities or any of the discourse surrounding them. This is not a ship-bashing of any kind and please do not take it as such, it’s just my own personal experience surrounding these characters and these relationships. 

 Buckle your seatbelts kids, this is a long one.

I first got into Marvel c. 2015. I’m European so I’d never really watched any marvel movies before that, I watched Age of Ultron on a plane and remember being vaguely aware the Steve/Tony was a thing (what is pretty interesting is that to this day I have no clue where that knowledge came from) but was mostly just excited by the superhero stuff. I then got home and watched The Winter Soldier and fell in love. I love the Winter Soldier, it’s probably still one of my favourite marvel movies (it got kicked out of its top spot by Black Panther last year unfortunately) and to me no other marvel movie could hold a torch to it at the time. So I came onto tumblr, searched up The Winter Soldier and was just inundated with Stucky stuff, as expected. I rolled with it, got invested just from constant exposure (it was also around the height of the Stucky ship) and as far as I was concerned, that was that. I was super into Stucky for almost six months and was pretty much your average shipper, I didn’t understand stevetony, loved Steve Rogers, was close to creating a Stucky sideblog wit some ridiculous pun as my username, I was gone over this ship.

Then one day, I sat down and read the man on the bridge by boopboop on ao3. You’ve almost definitely heard of it, but it was the most popular fic in the Steve/Bucky tag on ao3 at the time (for some reason I had just never got around to reading it until then, it was long and I didn’t have the stamina I have now). It was your pretty standard Stucky fic, Steve gets Bucky back, they have to deal with his trauma which results in Steve and Bucky declaring their long lost love for each other etc. etc. What was different about this fic, was that it was all told from Tony’s point of view, and since Steve and Tony were on the same team at that point, their dynamic was a huge part of the fic. And I found myself falling completely in love with Steve and Tony’s dynamic. I went back to the fic for this post (and god it is a good fic) and pulled up the first couple of chapters and instantly just found so many instances of that dynamic

(grade A stevetony arguing over each other’s safety with a side of flirting from Tony)

(Idk why but the image of Steve and Tony not going to sleep, but rather staying up and brewing coffee together was such a vivid one when I first read this fic, I still remember it to this day. )

(Tony picking Steve flowers while trying to desperately play off that he didn’t aka. Tony caring while trying desperately not to care)

(Everyone knowing that Steve would definitely come to Tony, apart from Tony himself.)

Now obviously, this is a stucky fic and I went into it knowing this, but I found when Steve and Bucky finally got together I felt honestly a bit bored, a bit cheated. I had no idea why at the time. I remember very clearly x-ing out of the fic at the end and feeling really uneasy, I came onto tumblr, went straight back into the Stucky tag and all was well.

When I next went back onto ao3, I started out with a couple of oneshots in the Stucky tag, but for some reason it wasn’t working for me anymore. I remember sitting there, a little bored, not at all invested in this relationship and just missing something. I figured I was probably missing Tony’s presence in the fic and so filtered in Tony Stark’s character tag. I read a few of those and all was well but I realised the same thing was happening as had happened in man on the bridge, the moment that Steve and Bucky got together, the fic lost something for me. Desperate at this point, and a little annoyed at myself I conducted an experiment and went into the Steve/Tony tag on Ao3 and as they say, the rest is history. If you go onto older posts on my main blog there’s a pretty drastic, almost overnight shift c. January 2016. I have to admit, I expected Civil War to be a conversion so I enjoyed stevetony without consequence for five months, while still labelling myself as a Stucky shipper because I expected to be pulled back to Stucky after civil war, the reality was that somehow I came out of civil war shipping stevetony harder than ever before. From there, I spent two years reading my way through the stevetony tag on ao3 and finally set up this blog in 2018, with a really obscure reference as my username and it’s been stevetony til I die ever since.

I just couldn’t read Stucky anymore. That’s what I mean when I say on this blog that stevetony has ruined me for every other ship, because it has. Steve and Tony’s firecracker dynamic pulled me away from what was fast on its way to becoming my favourite ship in 2015, all because they had a bit of banter on the side in a fic. It’s kind of depressing really, the sort of hold that Steve and Tony’s dynamic has over me, 

It’s strange you say you fell in love with Stucky, I fell absolutely out of love with it. I have thought a lot about how I ended up falling into stevetony and why I was so drawn to them instead of Stucky in the first place and I think it all comes down the the story itself. To me, Steve and Bucky’s relationship carries much more weight as a friendship, I still have no doubt that Bucky is one of if not the most important person in Steve’s life, but having that be a lifelong friendship is way more powerful and impactful to me, (especially since what I know I misconstrued to be Steve’s obsession with Bucky is actually Steve’s obsession over the past. I’m not saying Bucky isn’t dear to Steve and he does want to obviously rescue him, but looking back on it there’s more to Steve’s obsession with Bucky than just love, it’s a fear of change and it’s him desperately trying to hold onto a past that’s gone.)

Conversely, I feel like adding a romantic element to Steve and Tony’s relationship enriches the story being told, if you look at something like civil war (either MCU or 616 tbh) in the context of Tony being desperately in love with Steve, it makes a lot more sense, especially with things like The Confession in 616 or the stuff brought up in that strange conversation in the conference room in the MCU. There’s lines from Steve like “I’m home/you gave me a home” or even straight up “he loved you” and his tormented behaviour throughout infinity war and endgame that just really makes you wonder, not to mention lines from others like “you two still gazing into each other’s eyes/sounds like both of you got into bed with the wrong people” and they did have to share a bed at Clint’s farm after all lol. The tragedy of their story is heightened if you look at it through the context of them being absolutely in love with each other, just never having actually got around to telling it to each other’s faces. This tragedy is heavily implied in The Oath/The Confession in 616 when they confess their deepest darkest secrets to the other’s comatose/dead bodies, and apparently it’s always been that they love the other person. Actually you could easily introduce a romantic element by making relatively few changes to the MCU, but that’s a post for another time (I have a long and comprehensive list in my notes app on how little you actually need to change to make that happen, it’s literally the matter of a few lines of dialogue and one major story change at the end of IM3, an interesting thought exercise to say the least).

Finally, there’s a quote that came up on my dash the day I made that fateful venture into the ao3 stevetony tag, “your soulmate isn’t someone who comes peacefully into your life. It is someone who makes you question things, changed your reality, somebody that marks a before and after in your life. It is not the human being everyone idealized, but an ordinary person, who managed to revolutionize your world in a second” to this day, it resonates so strongly with me about stevetony. It’s everything I love about this ship just compressed into a quote. 

So yeah it was basically a bunch of happy coincidences, but thank god it happened. As a writer, stevetony has taught me so much about character and dynamic, stuff that is honestly invaluable. When you have long fics that basically detail the day by day life of Steve and Tony post-civil war in rural Italy and consists of them sleeping, crying and working through their repressed feelings (looking at you @silkspectred ), it is the characters and their unique dynamic that drive the entirety of the story. Steve and Tony, in the hands of a compelling writer, can keep me hooked over a frankly embarrassing number of words. I still have a bit of a special place for Stucky in my heart really, it did start me out in marvel after all and it was one of my first ever ships, but your first love is only so good until you meet your true love, not to get all sappy but stevetony has completely destroyed my ability to ship anything else. I might get a bit flirtatious with some other ships, like sambucky (I still love Bucky, and I love Sam!), or the riverdale ships (beronica and jarchie or bust), or even the game of thrones crack ships (daensa til the day we die), but I’ll always come back to stevetony.

So yeah this escalated into a far longer post than I intended to make but I’ve never really spelled out on this blog how or why I ended up jumping Stucky to Stony when I know it’s usually the other way around. I guess it just comes down to stevetony catching me out when I least expected it, and never having let go of me since. 

[insfiringyou]

Becoming Exclusive (Suga x Jeong-sun)

Set the day following the events of ‘Pillow Talk’ Yoongi and Jeong-sun go out to dinner and finally establish that they are wanting to give their relationship another try.

This is part of our ongoing story line in our headcanon universe & mentions several key events from Yoongi and Jeong-sun’s past relationship together which you may wish to read first. 

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin  /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & 

Our full masterlist can be found here

Rated content below the cut

PART ONE 

He had not yet replied and the picture continued to glare back at her; her pink nipples cast in shadow by the outline of the phone. Jeong-sun sighed. Forgetting to set her alarm, the impromptu nap had lasted two hours and her head had started to throb a little from dehydration. It was only just past two o’clock, yet she suspected Yoongi would have seen the picture by now, even if his phone had been on silent when he left her apartment several hours before. There seemed to be a glimmer of hope and, without really thinking, she started typing out a message.

‘How is your roof?’

Hitting send, she realised she was subconsciously trying to push the image up in the message window and felt a wave of relief as the top half of her breasts in the photo disappeared upwards. She persevered. ‘Did they find anything interesting?’ Send. And then: ‘Were you thinking of selling up?’

The new text messages took over the screen, moving the embarrassing selfie out of view. Feeling a slight wave of relief wash over her now the picture was no longer starring her in the face, she slid off her bed and walked the short distance to the kitchen, flicking on the electric kettle to make tea. When she returned to her bedroom ten minutes later she noticed the notification light on her cell was flashing. 

‘Fine. Not really. I was considering it.’

Not really knowing how to reply, she found herself sitting down on the edge of her bed as her mind replayed a scene from earlier that day; remembering the way he had grinned shyly to himself before pressing his lips against hers. Lost in thought, she almost jumped when the phone vibrated in her hand. 

‘Are you free tomorrow afternoon?’

‘I have to go to the post office before it closes.’ She replied after a moment’s thought, giving his question time to sink in. It was true; her passport was due to expire and she couldn’t send off for a replacement until her old one had been shipped off to be checked. 

His answer came back almost immediately. ‘Do you want to go for lunch afterwards?’ 

Her heart thumped in her chest. Nervously, she typed out her answer. ‘Is this a date?’

‘Yes.’

She bit her lip, trying to suppress the smile which threatened its way onto her lips before she realised she was alone. Her cheeks were warm and, more than likely, glowing pink. She adjusted the phone between her hands, steadying them to type a reply. ‘Where shall we meet?’

PART TWO

“Have you been here before?” Jeong-sun asked, tugging on the sleeve of her cream-coloured blouse a little anxiously as they peered in the window. The pub seemed a little out of place on the corner of the busy shopping street and was surprisingly quiet inside. She could spot a few couples through the window, seated on plush, leather seats, eating food which looked both familiar yet a little alien. 

Yoongi shook his head gently. “No, I’ve walked past it a lot of times. It’s British themed.” 

“Did you read good reviews?” She smirked, hiding her nerves behind a small, sarcastic smile, remembering his coffee house recommendation a few weeks before.

He let out a small laugh. “Something like that.” He turned to her. “I thought you might like a pint.”

She shrugged, trying to appear casual. "Well, I’m not at work until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Shall we go in?” He suggested, gesturing towards the glass door. He held it aside for her as they entered the dark, yet spacious room. The scent of gravy and pastry hit their nostrils as they headed automatically towards the wooden bar in front of them. A couple of customers were being served; having their pints of beer pulled by hand from the large taps above the counter. 

“Do you want to find a table? I’ll get the drinks.” She offered. 

Yoongi pointed towards a small table in one corner, suitably quiet and out of the way. “Over there?”

“Yeah. What are you having?”

“A Guinness.”

She nodded, joining the small line of people waiting to be served. She walked over to his table five minutes later, carefully bringing the drinks and setting them down. She had opted for larger; the liquid pale and crisp in contrast to the cloudy stout. 

“Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” She asked curiously, setting herself down opposite him. The leather armchair whispered under her weight and she sank comfortably into its grasp. 

“Not really.” He admitted, taking a sip of his drink. “I might do some writing.”

“Are you working on something?”

He nodded a little gingerly. It had been a while since he had spoken much about his work with another person. “A ballad...for a female vocalist.” He paused, meeting her gaze for the first time that afternoon with a smirk. “Do you want to do it?”

Her grin was automatic. “It wouldn’t sell very well.”

“I don’t need the money.” He murmured, his long fingers fiddling with the cardboard coaster which had been left on the table. A French brand of beer was advertised on one side and he slid it through hands a little restlessly. 

She laughed a little, knowing he was joking but unable to let the suggestion drop. “You might get fired from the label. They’ll think someone is dying.”

He shrugged. “You’re not that bad. I’ve heard you sing before.”

Smirking, she picked up the oversized menu from the wooden stand at the edge of the table and flicked it open. “I’ve gotten worse.” She remarked before turning her attention to the list of options, frowning after a moment of reading. “What are spuds?”

“Potatoes.” He explained. 

“Oh.” She looked at the menu for another minute before handing it over. “Do you want to have a look?”

He took it from her easily, his eyes roaming over the list of specials. “Did Yu-jin get the job?” He asked after a moment. 

“She did. She said the interview went well.”

“Was she nervous?”

“Yeah. I gave her some Kalms.”

Yoongi flashed a grin as he set the menu back on the stand. “Staff discount.”

“Yeah.” Jeong-sun smiled, before remembering: “Is Hoseok out yet?”

He nodded. “Next month.” He thought for a moment before making the connection, realising why she had asked. “Does Yu-jin still write to him?”

“I think so.”

“Does she know he has a girlfriend?”

She frowned, trying to remember. “She hasn’t mentioned, I think they were just friends.” She paused before enquiring further, curious. “Is she nice?”

Yoongi nodded, unable to help the small smile which crept onto his lips. “She’s just like him.” He hesitated. “Except she’s a teacher.”

Jeong-sun laughed openly at this, finding the connection between the two facts funny but glad that Yoongi seemed to approve; Hoseok was his best friend and she was glad he was happy for him. 

“What grade?” She asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t remember. Little kids.” 

Her smile remained but she couldn’t help but wonder, a little sadly. “Does she find it hard, with him away?”

She noticed his gaze drop. “I think we’ve all found it hard.”

She knew he was telling the truth as he said it and she felt her heart sink. “Are you going to do anything for him?” She asked gently. 

“Like a party?” He looked up.

She nodded.

“I was thinking about it.” He murmured.

“If you do, I’d like to be there...if that’s okay.” She asked slowly, a little hesitant.

He was silent for a second before replying, his voice soft. “I would have invited you anyway.”

Her heart thudded in her chest as he once more met her eyes. Although Hoseok had been vaguely aware of them as a couple during their time together, Yoongi had never specifically asked her to join him at a party or event. Their meetings in public had often been the result of a happy coincidence or subtle hinting on each of their parts that they hoped the other would be there. 

She took a deep breath, trying to hide the tremor in her voice with a smirk. “Does that mean we’re exclusive?” 

He grinned shyly, his gums flashing momentarily as his eyes flickered timidly to the wooden table in front of them. “I wasn’t planning on dating anyone else, were you?”

She smiled, her body relaxing a little at his reply. “No.”

He let out a small exhalation of laughter as he looked up, reaching slowly across the table to take her hand in his. It was warm beneath his fingers as he slid his digits between hers, caressing her with his thumb. They remained this way, in content and comfortable silence until the waiter walked over almost a minute later, notepad in hand ready to take their order. They broke apart politely as Jeong-sun reached for the menu. 

“I’d like...” Reluctant to risk mis-pronouncing the English words on the menu, she pointed to an item half-way down the first page. The waiter nodded before turning to Yoongi who seemed to have no problems with the language. The waiter gathered the menu and left them to their privacy. 

A small chime from Yoongi’s pocket brought his attention to his phone and he read the text message easily, slipping it from his jeans. The sight inadvertently made Jeong-sun want to shrink further into her chair as she remembered the events from the day before. 

“I was hoping you might not see it.” She murmured cryptically as he once more pocketed the device. 

“What?”

Her cheeks were pink. “The picture.”

“Oh.” Yoongi smiled carefully. “I thought you’d be hacked.” He joked. 

Her expression twisted, clearly embarrassed but needing to get it off her chest. “I don’t know what made me do it.”

He shook his head gently, his voice soft. “It’s okay. I deleted it.”

She had not expected his answer and it filled her with an unprecedented amount of relief. “It wasn’t the best angle.” She said, only half-joking as she remembered the speed in which she had took it. Looking at him now, in his beautifully fitted ripped jeans and black sweater, the thought of him being able to look at such an unflattering image at any time filled her with dread. His reply, however, made her heart flutter. 

“I didn’t notice.” He shrugged, voice sincere and indifferent. Her stomach grew warm at the casualness of his reply; it had always amazed her how he seemingly found her so attractive, especially during times when he had no real reason to. He pressed on. “It caught me a bit off guard. The surveyor had just arrived.”

Glad for the slight change in direction, she went with it. “How did it go?”

“I don’t know, I was a bit distracted.”

She laughed, face glowing. “Sorry.”

He grinned in reply, leaning back slightly in his chair as the waiter came over with their food. He had opted for a whisky-glazed steak while she ate an oversized bowl of beef stew and dumplings. They tucked in quietly, enjoying the new flavours in silence. 

After a while, in-between spoonfuls of food, Jeong-sun spoke up. “This is nice...”

“I know.” Yoongi murmured, casting a glance over her stew. “I tried something like it in the UK.”

She smiled softly. “No. I meant being out together.” He looked up at the gentleness of her voice, his brown eyes meeting hers. “We didn’t get the chance to do this much... before.”

Yoongi sighed, putting down his fork as he washed down the last mouthful of steak with Guinness.“We never had much free time together did we?”

As if proving his point, a familiar jingle rang out and Jeong-sun dropped her spoon, a little clumsily, into the bowl of half-finished food as she fumbled in her trouser pocket for her cell. Yoongi’ recognised the ringtone and felt the knowing pang of disappointment within him when she checked the screen. 

“You’re more busy than I am these days.” He murmured, trying not to sound too saddened at the prospect of their date being interrupted. 

Jeong-sun squinted a little to read the name on screen; she had left her glasses at home, before swiping left. She quickly slid the phone back into the pocket of her smart, black trousers. “It can wait.” She said.

PART THREE

Not wanting to part from him, Jeong-sun agreed on going with him back to his apartment following the date and, despite their years apart, found the feel and scent of it comfortingly familiar. Following him into the living room, she did notice a few changes. 

“This is new...” She pointed to the sheepskin rug which covered the bare stretch of flooring near the television. 

He shrugged, walking around the glass coffee table to perch on the sofa. “I was trying to make the place look a bit more lived in.” Looking up, he waited for her to join him. “I didn’t used to spend much time here, unless I was with you.”

She considered this for a moment, hovering by the doorway. “Do you still have your piano?”

“I got a new one. The other seemed a bit pretentious.” He answered honestly. The baby grand had never really felt right in his small studio space; the simple, wooden one he had replaced it with felt much more at home.

“What did you do with it?” She asked curiously, her mind inadvertently flashing back to the last time she had seen it and to the act they had performed pressed against it. Her face had grown a little hot as she wondered whether him getting rid of it had anything to do with the memory of her.

“I donated it to a university. It seemed better suited there.”

It made sense but the blush remained. “Can I use the bathroom?” She murmured. She had been needing to pee since they left the pub; beer always had that effect on her, but she was also craving a minute alone to contemplate the fact she was back in his apartment and to reflect on the confirmation he had given just before lunch.

He gums flashed briefly in a smile at her question. “I won’t stop you.”

She left the room, her legs automatically carrying her down the hall to the guest bathroom she remembered being there. She had barely used it during their time together, always preferring the cosy en-suite attached to his bedroom, but it felt too soon to go there now. 

In the living room and feeling restless, Yoongi reached for the remote control on the table and turned on the large-screened television, automatically pushing the button to turn down the volume. He left it on the channel that was playing and watched as a police car gave chase to a group of suspected drug sellers. The reality show was one he was familiar with; since coming out of the military he had found the easy-lull of daytime television strangely comforting when he was home alone with too much to think about. 

Jeong-sun walked into the room a moment later, smiling softly as she walked around the table to join him on the sofa. “You got a tub.”

His watched her as she sat down. “I’ve been enjoying baths recently.” He explained as she nestled against him. Without thinking, his hand moved around her lower back, holding her to his side. The slightly-rough feel of her textured blouse against his wrist made him realise and he held his breath for a moment, waiting to see if she would move away. While they had gotten more intimate than this just two evenings before, the stream of afternoon light drifting through the gap in the curtains made him more self-aware than he had been in bed with her. If his move surprised her, however, she didn’t show it. 

“I wish I had room for one.” She murmured with a small sigh.

“If you’re ever in the neighbourhood, you’re welcome to use mine.” He replied, his offer genuine. 

Smiling, she mumbled an agreement before the wail of a police siren on the television caught her attention as the show began to play its final credits. “Do you watch this often?” She asked with a grin, recognising the programme immediately. 

Her body moved with his as he shrugged and her smile widened. 

“You must be bored these days.” She said as the commercial break started. 

“I’ve got too much spare time on my hands.” He agreed. Turning his head towards her, he noticed the subtle scent of perfume on her skin and hair. It was different to what she usually wore, a cool-smelling vanilla and passion-fruit concoction, surprisingly unfamiliar but comforting at the same time. He subconsciously tucked his arm more tightly around her, their shoulders touching as they cuddled casually. 

“I’ve not seen this one yet.” She smirked as the opening scenes of a new reality programme, set in the A&E department of a Seoul hospital, started. A man, with his face anonymously blurred out to protect his identity, approached the desk with a rather unusual problem. Jeong-sun smirked, turning to Yoongi. “Hae-won watches it all the time.”

They were transfixed as they watched the man enter the X-Ray room with a doctor. The following scene showed the cause of the man’s distress and his tense, unusual walk, as the results of the X-Ray were shown. Yoongi squinted at the screen, trying to work out the shape in the man’s rectum. “Is that a Transformer?” He asked in disbelief.

Jeong-sun shrugged with a timid grin. “I think so.”

“How do you think he got it up there?” His voice was slightly baffled, making her laugh out loud, her warm voice filling the cosy room. 

She shrugged against him. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

There was a moment of silence as they watched the doctor’s diagnosis with amusement. “At least if you become a nurse you’ll be well prepared.” Yoongi murmured, moving his hand to gently squeeze her upper arm. 

She turned to look at him, her eyes meeting his properly for the first time that afternoon, since lunch, their faces close together. “I didn’t say I was becoming a nurse.” She said, a little defensively. The unexpected tone of her voice would have usually made him proceed with caution when thinking through his reply. Instead, he pressed on gently, moving one palm to rest comfortably on her upper thigh, against the black fabric of her smart trousers. 

“I know you want to.” 

Her jaw tensed for a moment, before letting it relax, giving in. “I was just looking into it.” She protested unconvincingly. 

He fought the urge to disagree. “You’d be good.” He shrugged, letting it drop.

She peered at him doubtfully. “You don’t know that.”

“You’re really calm.” He explained, his gaze falling to his palm as he rubbed her thigh gently in circular movements, his body twisting towards her. “If I was your patient I’d feel really safe with you.” He looked up, meeting her brown eyes. She was still for a moment, expression softening as she realised the sincerity in his voice. 

“That’s a nice thing to say.” She admitted, turning her body back to the television and wrapping her arm around Yoongi’s back, snuggling into him. The doctor on the screen showed the successfully removed toy. 

“Oh look...they got it out.” Jeong-sun commented, pointing absently to the screen. Yoongi laughed, his stomach growing warm with his feelings for her in that moment. He pressed his lips to the side of her head, kissing her warm hair with a smile as she shifted comfortably against him, their faces inches apart. A moment passed between them, their eyes roaming slowing over each other’s features before Yoongi moved forward to kiss her temple, his lips closed as he trailed them along her face; against her right cheek before meeting the corner of her mouth. Moving her head slowly, she met his lips, kissing him softly. The taste of him, familiar and comforting, filled her with warmth as her heart jack-hammered in her chest. Her palm moved to the front of his sweater, pressing it flat to where she approximated his own heart would be. Sure enough, she could feel its quickening vibration beneath her fingertips as they sank into each other’s touch, his fingers caressing her cheekbone delicately as he pushed a stray strand of hair back from her face. She felt a little light headed and giggly, smiling against his lips as they shifted slowly, making themselves more comfortable as his spare hand un-tucked a corner of her blouse from her trousers to touch the bare skin beneath.

She wondered, bemusedly, how close she had come to never seeing him again. Subconsciously, she was aware that her reasons were justified and he too understood why she had done it. But she realised, as he pulled away to slide his sweater over his head and revealed his thin white t-shirt, that she had never felt this way with anyone else and she would never be able to let him go again. With a slight tremor, she touched his chest once more, feeling his uncharacteristic warmth radiating through the fabric. The sensation of his heartbeat against her hand was incredibly intimate and, realising what she was doing, Yoongi clasped his hand flat over hers, allowing her...welcoming her to feel its hum. He had nothing to hide. 

She could not guess how long they had been kissing; each loving touch of his lips against hers filled her with butterflies and she couldn’t grow tired of the slow, unhurried pace they set as they enjoyed each other. Eventually, she felt him reach behind her to adjust a few cushions, breaking their embrace briefly to encourage her to lie down. She shifted against the soft fabric, shuffling her hips and arse to get comfy as Yoongi snuggled against her, resting his head against the soft cushion of her breasts as he touched her chin lightly with his knuckle, tilting her head to press a final, soft kiss to her lips. 

Moving away, he caressed her covered stomach gently with his palm as he settled against her, the textured fabric and line of black buttons uncomfortable and awkward against his cheek. Moving slowly in order to give her time to protest, he began to undo the top set of buttons, his fingers pulling the fabric gently away from her cleavage, careful not to expose too much of her lacy black bra, before nestling his head between her soft breasts.

“Better?” She asked with a smirk.

He nodded against her, his cheek pressed against her smooth skin, just above the trim of fabric. “Why do they have to make them so pointy?” He complained.

“The buttons?”

He murmured in agreement, his voice low and purry as he made himself comfortable.

She laughed softly. “I don’t think the designers had this in mind.”

The television continued to play softly as the A&E programme made way for an all-female panel show. They watched it absently at the light outside started to darken, content just to cuddle lazily in silence, sharing their warmth. They drifted off at some point, with Jeong-sun waking up first. She wasn’t sure how long she had been out, the automatic timer on the television had turned it off, and she laid in silence, vaguely needing to pee again but too comfortable to wake up Yoongi. She watched him as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, his long eyelashes brushing his pale cheeks as he slept, and observed how, for the first time in a very long while, she felt truly happy. Eventually, she felt him stir against her and, moments later, he opened his eyes, automatically checking his Rolex for the time. Realising he had been asleep, he smiled shyly, his cheeks warm and pink as he shuffled against her. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Jeong-sun asked, knowing it was late. 

“No.”

She hesitated before asking. “Can I stay?”

He adjusted his head to look up at her, the angle a little awkward. His expression was soft beneath his bangs. “I was hoping you would.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.” She murmured as he settled back against her breasts, adjusting the edge of the fabric a little to get more comfy. 

“You can borrow something of mine.”

“Can I have a bath?” She asked. Yoongi noticed an apprehensive edge to her voice. 

“Yeah.” He agreed easily. 

She hesitated before speaking, her voice a little shaky. He heard the increase in her heart-rate through his ear, pressed against her chest. “Do you want to join me?”

He paused, his stomach fluttering pleasantly. Running his tongue briefly over his dried lips, he didn’t try to hide the nervous tremor in his own voice as it cracked slightly. “I’d like that.” 

Matter settled, they once more fell into a comfortable silence as her pulse eventually slowed. 

After a few minutes he spoke up. “Are you thirsty?”

“Do you have tea?” She asked.

“The bags might be a bit stale. I got them for Hoseok.” He smiled at the memory shortly before his enlistment of accommodating Hoseok and Nana for dinner, finding the recipe for a vegetarian pasta-bake online. 

“I’m sure they’re fine.” She reassured. She sighed a little at the loss of his comfortable weight as he slid off her; his body was a little stiff and grouchy from remaining still for so long. She sat up on the sofa as he trailed out of the room, returning a few minutes later clutching two steaming mugs. 

“Do you want the T.V back on?” He asked, sitting back beside her. 

“It’s fine.” She clutched the warm mug between her hands and blew on the surface of the liquid, inhaling its comforting scent. She observed the little string sticking out of Yoongi’s own mug and smiled, knowing he had never been much of a tea drinker. “Do you think you’ll be performing again, once everyone’s out?” She asked, breaking the silence. 

“I don’t think my body could cope.” He laughed a little breathily. It was meant to sound like a joke but she thought she heard a hint of truth behind the sound.

“Maybe you should stick to ballads.” She teased. 

He shrugged easily, picking up his own mug. “I prefer writing these days.” He hesitated before taking a small sip from the brim and setting it back down. “I’d never say never.”

“The fans will be upset.” She commented, pressing her mug to her lips.

He was silent for a moment, contemplating this. “There’ll be someone to take our place.” He said. Jeong-sun anticipated a tone of sadness in his voice but found none as he continued. “It feels right that we slow down for a while. It doesn’t feel as important as it used to.”

“How come?” She gently probed, setting her cup down absently as she twisted her lower body on the sofa to face him..

“My priorities have changed.” His gaze remained fixed on his lap but he reached out for her hand, taking it in his. “I feel I missed out on a lot.”

She was silent, thinking, her eyes on their connected hands.

“How’s the tea?” He asked.

She ignored his question, wanting to vocalise what she was thinking. “I know how you feel...” She said sadly. “Spread thin.”

He paused before sighing, brushing his thumb gently over her thumb. “I don’t want to add any pressure to that.” He shook his head, knowing as he said it that, despite what he wanted, he needed to give her the option to put herself first or he would never forgive himself. “I know things weren’t perfect before.”

Her hand closed around his, warm and, given her job, surprisingly soft. “It feels right.” She reassured, much to his relief. “I think we needed some time apart.”

He murmured in agreement, despite himself. “It took me a while to see it.” He explained.

“You’re not sick of the sight of me?” Despite her attempts to sound playful, Yoongi thought he sensed a touch of doubt in her voice and, proving his next point, he looked up, straight at her. 

“Not at all.” He grinned, meaning it with every ounce of his being. 

She caught on to his sincerity but was unable to stop herself from being self-deprecating, feeling bashful. She smirked. “I’ve put on twenty pounds.”

Shaking his head, he leaned in to kiss her, his lips opening softly against hers before muttering: “You’re beautiful.” He felt her teeth press against his lips in response as she kissed him back. 

“You’re not bad yourself.” She smiled as she pulled away.

He cupped her cheek gently, smoothing away another stray lock and tucking it behind her ear. “Did you want that bath now?” He asked gently.

“I’m nervous.” She confessed. 

His heart thudded at her response but he was relieved to hear that she felt the same. “Me too.” He admitted. “We don’t have to rush anything.”

“Just a bath?” She asked, taking his other hand in her spare and holding them both to her lap. 

“Just a bath.” He agreed, squeezing her hands reassuringly in return before she got to her feet. 

“Just give me a second.” She whispered, flashing him a timid grin before heading off to the master bathroom down the hall. Yoongi waited for the sound of the door closing behind her before he stood up and went into his bedroom. Feeling restless, he stripped his bedding and placed it into the hamper, replacing it with a fresh set from his bottom draw along with an extra pillow from the cabinet. His phone pinged with a notification and he pulled it from his pocket, swiping the screen to read the text. 

‘I can’t get the water hot’

He glanced automatically at the doorway, towards the bathroom. ‘Do you want me to come in?’ He typed.

‘Yeah.’

Despite her invitation, he wrapped his knuckles briefly against the door before he opened it.

“There’s a switch to turn on the boiler.” He murmured as she turned to face him, his eyes briefly flicking to her bare legs beneath the short towel she clutched around her body. Turning around before he could linger on the sight of her, he flipped the switch by the door.  

“Oh.” She murmured, a little embarrassed. “I’ve never seen one like that.”

“It’s supposed to save energy.” He said drily, knowing she would approve. He walked past her towards the claw tub, the vessel already partially full with freezing cold water. Bending down to turn on the warm tap, he ran his hand under the faucet until he was satisfied the temperature had heated up. He could sense her hovering behind him a little awkwardly and straightened up, unexpectedly feeling his nerves returning at her closeness. 

“Are you going to take your clothes off?” She asked. 

“In a minute.” he murmured, allowing her to side-step him to reach for a opalescent glass bottle of bubble bath. He had won it in a company raffle some years before but never thought to throw it away. Instead, it looked decorate on the white-painted cabinet which housed toiletries and towels. 

“Can I use this?” She asked, uncorking the glass stopper and raising it to her nose to smell. 

“Go ahead...” He said as she poured it liberally under the running tap, watching as the water quickly turned to peony-scented foam. She replaced the cap and reached behind Yoongi to set it in the cabinet, her other hand still clutching the top of the white towel closed. Their bodies pressed closer as she straightened and he couldn’t help but kiss her. It soon turned a little heated as her skin glistened with moisture from the warm steam rising from the bath and her grip loosened, causing the towel to slip beneath her bare breasts. 

“Oh.” He uttered, a little embarrassed as she broke from his lips to grasp the edge. His eyes automatically moved down at the change in movement, catching a glimpse of her pink nipples before averting his gaze. She didn’t have time to notice, busy adjusting the towel around her body and trying her best to cover her modesty. “Could you look away for a moment?” She requested, a little flustered. 

He complied, turning his body away from her completely as she removed the towel, draping it on the rail by the sink and stepped into the warm bath. She turned off the tap as he slid off his t-shirt, his body facing away from her, and unbuckled his jeans. After requesting it from him, she wanted to allow him some privacy so distracted herself by swishing the water around a little to create more bubbles. Moments later, however, when he turned back to her completely nude, she found herself glancing at him, trying not to stare at the delicate angles of his body as he joined her in the tub, his hand cupped casually around his crotch to cover his most private area. Her eyes were drawn to the neat bush of black pubic hair which trailed above his hand and blended into the soft, wispy hairs below his bellybutton. He was beautiful. 

“I’m glad it’s big enough for both of us.” She remarked once he had settled down, drawing his legs to the side to give her more room. Her own were raised slightly, subtly covering her pubic area from view. 

“The company threw in the sink for free.” He smirked, nodding towards the modern looking basin. 

“Well, that’s a bonus.” She laughed softly, the sound echoing around the tiles. She sensed that the odd change of direction the conversation had taken was mostly to break some of the tension between them. The water covered most of her breasts from view, but the fact she was naked in front of him for the first time in three years still felt like a big deal. “Did you install it yourself?” She asked, her mind thinking of how he had fixed her run-down boiler some weeks before.

“Not this time.” He paused. “Did you get anything for your birthday?”

She smiled. “My dad got me a gardening kit.”

“But you don’t have a garden.” He frowned, amused. 

Rolling her eyes, she shifted her legs to get more comfortable and felt his own against them. “I think it’s a hint he wants me to buy a house.”

“Anything else?”

“The girls at work got me a hamper..mostly loose leaf tea and cookies.” 

“I wanted to get you something.” He murmured regretfully, not noticing his own body relaxing until he felt her thigh against his foot. “I missed your birthday the first time.”

She shrugged easily, the movement causing her breasts to break the waterline, her nipples coming into view. Feeling more at ease with her body now the situation had started to lose its novelty, instead of returning to her previous position, she rested one elbow on the lip of the tub, exposing her right breast casually. “It’s fine. I’m hard to buy for.” She joked. “Do you have a sponge?”

He turned to the side, reaching out to the whitewashed cabinet to rummage through the folded towels that he could reach. He pulled away a navy washcloth. “I’ve only got this.” He offered it to her.

“I’m not fussy.” Taking it from him, she dipped it in the soapy water and began to trail it along her arms as he reached for a black bottle of shower gel placed on the cupboard, a little above his head. Unable to get it, he stood up carefully, the water sliding off his nude body as he twisted around to reach. Jeong-sun paused her movement to watch as he settled back down, his movements cautious in order to stop the bubbles from overflowing the sides. She grinned as he handed her the bottle and silently squirted the sandalwood and bergamot scented gel onto the cloth and began to lather up. 

“You’re perfume was different today.” He commented, the smell of the product reminding him. 

She murmured in agreement as she cleaned her neck. “I ran out of Black Opium. It’s Hypnose.”

“It suits you.”

She smiled, meeting his gaze. “Are you still wearing Invictus?” 

“My brother keeps getting me it for Christmas. I don’t wear it often.” He shrugged as she held out the wet cloth in one hand and the shower gel in the other. 

“Do you want this?” She offered. 

“Thanks.” He took them from her and began to clean himself. 

*

Jeong-sun took him up on the offer of wearing some of his clothes to bed and watched silently as he rummaged through his t-shirt draw. She knew he was seeking something oversized, big enough to fit her curves, and felt somewhat grateful when he handed her a shirt in a double extra-large. Other women, she contemplated as she slid it on, might have taken it as an insult, but she knew it would have been more embarrassing for him to give her his usual medium size and have the fabric bulge unattractively around her stomach and breasts. 

“Where did you get this?” She asked curiously. The logo on the left breast was a brand she had never heard of. 

“I don’t remember. Someone gave me it I think.” He shrugged casually. 

“Can you set an alarm for tomorrow?” 

“What time?” He reached for his phone on the bedside table.

“Ten.”

He fumbled with the device for a moment before placing it back on the wooden stand. Untucking the edge of his duvet, he slid between the sheets in his t-shirt and fresh set of boxers. She joined him a moment later; the familiar and distinctive scent of his sheets filling her with nostalgia as he placed his hand gently on her waist. 

“Is it warm enough?” He asked gently, rubbing the fabric with his palm. 

“I’m fine.” She touched her lips to his, running her hand along his bare arm. “Your skin’s always so cold.” She murmured against him, closing her eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered against her lips, pecking her softly a couple of times and enjoying the warm smell of her skin. He had never noticed the scent of the shower gel on himself, but on her it was comforting and, if he was honest, a little sexy. He pressed against her again, wrapping his arms tightly around her torso and holding her close as they kissed. Despite temptation, they were both tired and kept their caresses light and tender, savouring the closeness of their bodies and the taste of their mouths as they met sweetly. 

“When are you free next?” She asked, the bridge of her nose touching his as she clutched him to her, his chest and stomach flush against her own. She felt pleasantly nervous at the thought, a vague suspicion nagging in her tummy and rib-cage.

“Whenever you are...” He murmured, kissing her forehead gently. In that moment, she knew that whatever premonition had caused her to feel apprehensive, Yoongi was feeling it too. 

“I’ll let you know.” She mumbled sleepily as she snuggled against his slowly warming body. He pressed his lips to her dark hair, nestling her against his chest as she fell asleep in his arms. 

***

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[gumnut-logic]

Parents

Title: Parents

Author: Gumnut

12 Jan 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Gotta love them anyway.

Word count: 4938

Spoilers & warnings: Episode tag for 3.20. Spoilers for Season Three, particularly 3.20.

Timeline: Directly after 3.20

Author’s note: This one is a weird one. It mostly wrote itself and what came out was odd.

I had to do some serious math on the brothers’ ages. Please see the notes at the end of the fic for details.

Many thanks to @scribbles97 for the read through and cheering and @thunderstorm-bay for the wonderful support ::hugs you::

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

 “I can’t believe he did that!”

John looked up as his littlest brother stormed into the lab. Alan was still in his uniform and obviously fuming.

“Did what?” Apparently, his calculations would have to wait. He straightened in his seat and turned to face his brother.

“You didn’t see it?”

“See what?” Sometimes it took time to get to the point.

“Virgil cleaning my face in front of thousands of people. With his own spit.”

“Oh, that.” John fought the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s just Virgil, you know that.” He turned back to his workstation. He really needed to get these calculations done and sent to Brains. “Oh, and it is more like millions rather than thousands. An enthusiastic Tracy follower clipped the shot and posted it to social media. It’s got raving reviews.” He pulled up the post and flung the hologram in his brother’s direction before focussing once again on that argumentative variable.

“What?!”

John vaguely registered Alan glaring at the hologram and its attached comments.

“Cute? Adorable? Baaaaby Tracy? What the hell?!”

John had to smirk. “Yeah, well, your fans do love you.”

“My fans? What fans?”

That brought John to a halt. He looked up at his brother. “Your fans. The Spacey Tracy Tribute Troop.”

“What?!”

John arched an eyebrow at the shock on his brother’s face. “You can’t possibly tell me you didn’t know.”

But Alan’s stunned expression blatantly said he didn’t. John rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Alan. You have a whole array of fans who love you. And that moment with Virgil is at the top of the charts.”

“But it is so stupid!”

“Why?”

“Because only mothers do that to their toddlers!” Alan’s face was a little red.

“Well, perhaps you will consider that next time you stuff a hot dog in your face before a big presentation. That glob of mustard was visible from space.”

“He could have just told me.”

Patience. “This is Virgil we are talking about. How long have you known him?”

Alan didn’t answer that, because it was obvious. Virgil and of course Scott would always be defacto parents to the rest of the brothers. Hell, John had been twelve when they lost their mother, but he still valued having two older brothers during that time. He had always valued having Scott and Virgil to turn to for support.

His little brother deflated and threw himself into a chair in picture of utter dejection. “It sucks.”

“Really?” John stared at Alan. “Look at the shot and you tell me exactly what you see.”

Stubborn blue eyes looked up and narrowed on the hologram as it replayed over and over again. “I look stupid.”

John sighed. “Read the comments. None of them say you look stupid.” He threw up a few of the better ones. “If anything they say you look loved.”

Alan stared at him.

-o-o-o-

Alan Tracy didn’t remember his mother. She died when he was still a baby. He had stories and photos, but all his life it had just been his older brothers. They were the ones who saw him off at school, they helped him with his homework, they were the ones he went to for help and advice. He still remembered the night he discovered who Santa Claus actually was.

It was their first Christmas on the Island and nine year old Alan had been worried the big red guy would have trouble finding him out in the middle of the Pacific. So, despite the reassurances from both Scott and Virgil, he had set his alarm to wake himself up in the middle of the night.

Two am and he stumbled down the interior stairs of the new building. He could still remember the smell of new paint and wood stain and the slickness of the polished floor under his socks.

At first he had thought the voice was that of his father, but he knew his Dad was in New York for a special meeting. Scott had been rather loud in his argument against the his absence, but their father had left anyway.

Scott had been far from happy and Alan had given him a wide berth for most of Christmas Eve. Virgil had gathered them all for an evening movie, but even that had not fully dulled Scott’s expression. Not that his brother said anything. He just emanated unhappiness from the corner of the new lounge.

As he neared the main living room, he realised it was Virgil talking.

“Dad wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t important.”

“What possibly could be more important than our family?” Scott’s voice had anger in it, but it wasn’t the angry of him yelling, it was more resigned and defeated.

“He’s doing this for Mom.” Virgil sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Paper rustled. “Hand me the ribbon.”

“Grandma is upset.”

“I know.”

“It isn’t right. This is our first Christmas here. He should be here.”

“Well, he isn’t, so we’ll make the best of it.”

“It isn’t fair to Alan.”

“He’s got us.”

“We’re not his parents.”

“May as well be.”

“Virgil.”

“You said it yourself. Dad’s not here. Mom’s gone. He’s got us. He’s got Grandma. Could be worse.” Another rustle and Alan moved closer to the edge and peered around the corner.

Virgil and Scott were surrounded by wrapping paper in the middle of the circular lounge. Several shapes sat wrapped to one side. On the other there was a pile of shopping bags. A rocket kit almost as tall as him sat in amongst them.

It was the rocket he had asked Santa for Christmas.

His brothers were wrapping presents. Virgil stood up and grabbed an armful of gifts and hauled them out of the sunken lounge and piled them up under the tree just beyond the piano.

What?

“What are you guys doing?” It burst out before he could think.

His brothers looked up, stunned expressions on their faces. “Alan?!”

“Virgil?” He eyed his eldest brother. “Scott?”

Virgil recovered first, Scott was still staring at Alan in shock.

“Hey, Allie, what are you doing up? Bad dream?” His brother put down the presents in his hands and walking around the lounge, headed in Alan’s direction.

“What are you doing?”

“Um...” Scott appeared stuck.

Virgil came up to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “We’re wrapping presents.” He squeezed a hug.

“But Santa...?”

Scott looked down at the wrapping paper in his hands. Virgil drew Alan close and walked him into the sunken lounge. He sat him down and took a seat beside him. “Well, I guess you’re old enough now.”

“Virgil.”

“Scott, he’s old enough.”

Alan frowned as his oldest brother’s shoulders slumped and his whole body sagged. He dropped the wrapping paper in his hands and sat down in defeat, running his hands through his hair. To be honest, that freaked Alan out more than anything. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Allie. Scott’s just had a bad day and he’s tired.”

“Then why isn’t he in bed? Why are you wrapping Christmas presents?” He felt he knew the answer, but it couldn’t be right, could it?

“We’re on Santa duty.” Virgil’s brown eyes were wide and honest and kind of caring.

“Santa duty? But where is Santa?”

Sad blue eyes looked up at him. “There is no Santa, Alan. We wrap the presents and put them under the tree for you.”

Alan stared him. “What?”

“There is a Santa.” Virgil was glaring at his eldest brother. “Just not the Santa you think you know.”

“What?”

“Every year we choose presents and under the guise of Santa, we gift them to those we love. You are now old enough to gift presents to those you love, too. You can be Santa.”

Alan stared at him. “But what about the North Pole and the reindeer and the red suit and...”

“A fairytale.”

“Scott.”

“C’mon, Virg, he’s found us out.”

“He’s found out the truth. That we as a family give each other gifts because we love each other. We don’t need to glam it up anymore.”

“You lied to me?”

Virgil’s eyes widened, but then he sighed. “A little.”

“Why?”

Scott stood up, walked around the centre table and sat on Alan’s other side. “Allie, it’s a coming of age thing.”

“Why?”

Virgil answered. “Because it is sometimes nice to believe there is a little magic in our lives.”

Alan remembered the disappointment he felt at that moment and perhaps the loss of innocence, but of that night, the one thing that still stuck in his mind was the sadness in his brothers’ eyes.

Sure, Virgil was cheerful and positive, and even if Scott had been a little tired and grumpy, he was there and an hour later after wrapping first Gordy’s present, then one for John, he had gone to bed with the new knowledge and a sense of responsibility.

The hugs hadn’t hurt either.

Christmas morning had a little less urgency to run down to the main room and Gordon had to be clapped around the ears by Grandma for teasing him about the whole thing, but it had just become another part of growing up.

That his mother and father had missed.

He didn’t hold it against them. Mom, he never knew, and Dad had to make the sacrifices so other families didn’t have suffer the loss of a parent like they had, but it really just was another example of his two eldest brothers being there for him.

Which really sunk in when he was officially orphaned two years later.

-o-o-o-

Alan continued to stare at John.

“Do you have a problem with being loved?”

“What? Nooo.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m eighteen! They treat me like I’m still a kid!”

“You are still a kid.”

“No, I’m not!”

John held back the instinctive rebuttal and bit the inside of his cheek. “Alan, look at it from Scott’s point of view. He has been your guardian for eight years. Technically he is almost old enough to be your father. It has been his responsibility to look after you for even longer than that. That isn’t something that just switches off.”

“I’m not talking about Scott. I’m talking about Virgil. He’s not my guardian, but he treats me like he is.”

John’s lips thinned. “Don’t you ever say something like that to his face. In fact, don’t bother saying it in front of me again either. We’ve all made sacrifices, Alan, but none more than Scott, and Virgil isn’t far behind. You’d be better to recognise that and be grateful for what you have.”

Alan grumbled. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. They’re great, it’s just...so frustrating.”

“Then perhaps it is your turn to show the patience that has been offered you all these years.”

-o-o-o-

In 2055 the world lost the brilliant entrepreneur, billionaire business man and founder of International Rescue, Jeff Tracy.

Eleven year old Alan Tracy lost his Dad.

He also lost a part of his biggest brother. Scott had been forced to sit idle in Thunderbird One while his father tackled the Hood. He hadn’t been able to do anything but watch the Zero-X explode in front of him.

The whole family had been shattered, but no more than its new head. Scott was driven wild, determined that their father was not dead. The world disagreed, the explosion had been too final, too definite, to be anything but fatal. But Scott refused to believe.

There were arguments. They tried to hide them from the youngest brothers, and yes, at sixteen Gordon was almost as under-aged as Alan. But the pair of them could hear Scott’s strident and commanding voice echo through the house, followed by Virgil’s bellowed contradiction.

The day Alan found Grandma crying in the kitchen was the last straw.

“Grandma?” Did his voice have to sound so small?

She startled and turned. Her eyes were red and wet and, oh god, there were tears on her cheeks. “Grandma? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Umm...I’m just not feeling right at the moment. I’ll be okay.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder, but the smile was so forced his heart broke.

“Is it because Scott and Virgil are fighting?”

She shook her head, but didn’t seem to be able to say anything.

“Is it because of Daddy?”

And there were tears running down her face and he found himself wrapped in her arms. To his shock, he found he was almost her height, her head resting easily on his shoulder. “It will be okay, Allie.” But her voice was sobbing.

Eventually, she straightened and her smile became brighter and she sent him on his way. Told him to go clean his room, in fact, but Alan had a better idea.

He found them facing off on either side his father’s desk. Holograms hovered over it and his two biggest brothers were glaring at each other through the flickering images.

“It is what Dad would do.”

“You are not Dad.”

“Somebody has to be.”

“Why?! Why Scott? Why can’t we be ourselves?”

“Because this is what Dad would have wanted us to do.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I do! I knew him better than you!”

Virgil took a step back, eyes widening.

Scott echoed his expression as if realising exactly what he had just said. “I didn’t mean that, Virgil. I’m sorry.”

Plaid clad shoulders straightened and squared. “Yes, you did. But regardless, International Rescue was his dream, not ours.”

“So you want to give it up? Just like that?”

“No! As I have said multiple times, we just need to do it differently! We’re down an operative. Gordon and Alan are not old enough to take their places on the team. Hell, they may not even want to! We can only do so much. Give John some time to find his feet, for goodness sake.”

“Time is something we do not have. People will die.”

“People will die anyway! I just want to make sure no Tracys are on that list!” Virgil was leaning over the desk, his big shoulders wound so tight, his shirt look fit to bust a seam.

Alan had intended to yell at them, maybe scream a little for what they had done to Grandma, but instead their words scared him and suddenly he had tears on his cheeks, just like Grandma.

“Allie?” Virgil caught sight of him and within a split second was kneeling on the hardwood in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

It took him a moment to find his voice but he found himself wrapped in soft plaid flannel anyway, big hands rubbing his back.

“You hurt Grandma.” It came out as a sob.

“What? What’s wrong with Grandma?” Scott was standing beside them, his stance immediately ready to go and fix whatever problem Alan was able to point him at.

Unfortunately he was part of the problem.

He pulled away from Virgil and turned on both of them. “You. Both of you. You made Grandma cry. All you do is yell and fight!”

Both brothers froze and his eleven year old heart beat an extra beat in just a tiny bit of triumph. Perhaps they would listen? “Since Daddy died, you’ve done nothing but fight. I hate it when you fight and so does Grandma. Gordon hates it too. He goes swimming to get away from it. I don’t even know where John is. Please stop.” His throat caught again and he almost strangled on a sob. “Please.”

To his horror he realised Virgil had tears in his eyes and that, of course, only set Alan off more. Once again he found himself wrapped in his big brother’s arms. Virgil’s chest rumbled with words, but Alan didn’t understand what he said.

When he surfaced, Scott was no longer in the room.

“Scott has gone to find Grandma, to make sure she is okay.” Virgil wasn’t letting him go and his big brother had red rimmed eyes. Virgil’s voice was little more than a rumble. “I’m sorry, Allie. We’ll try to do better.”

His brother held him for a long time. Eventually Scott and Grandma found their way into the comms room, John was called out of his hidey-hole and Gordon dragged out of the pool. There was much family talking, hugging, a little more crying, but ultimately they worked it out enough to keep going.

The arguments stopped.

Well, mostly. Virgil still brought them out on very special occasions. Usually when Scott was being a pig-headed moron which fortunately wasn’t very often.

Life went on as best it could.

But then Gordon had the hydrofoil accident.

-o-o-o-

There was silence in the lab after that. Alan wasn’t happy, it was obvious, but he didn’t say anything so John just let him stew a while. Let him take the next step in the conversation.

After all, these calculations weren’t going to calculate themselves.

He just made it into that comfortable zone where he knew exactly what he was doing and had to be done, the numbers flowing, the equations dancing to his tune, and...

“What was Mom like?”

John blinked. That came from left field. Numbers dissolved in his head. “What did you want to know?”

“You know, things.”

“Things? You’ve seen the videos.”

“Of course, I have.” Their father, Scott and the budding artist, Virgil, had made many home videos over the years. They still did, knowing exactly what could be taken away in a flash and without notice. So there was plenty of footage of their mother.

Virgil was the brother most often found delving into those files. John had done his fair share of watching late at night when the Earth so far below just didn’t give him what he needed. Eos knew those files well and often offered them without prompt when John was feeling down.

But Virgil was the one who had the most affinity for their mother. Not to devalue any brother’s grief, but as Virgil had been the closest to her, the most like her in both appearance and interests. Knowing her must have been like learning about himself, his art, his music and answering all those questions their father just couldn’t answer.

John had a few of those himself. He had no doubt Virgil had more.

“She was a lot like Virgil is today. If you’re asking if she would have wiped the mustard off your face, I can tell you right now, she did the exact same thing to me on multiple occasions.” It had been quite gross actually. Fortunately, he had learnt fast and removed the stimulus for such an action at an early age.

His musician brother had been fifteen to John’s twelve and Alan’s one year when they had lost their mother. Alan had no memory of her. Gordon at age six had been just old enough to know what he had lost but not really why. John swore that the close bond between Gordon and Virgil had been forged in those early years as their older brother had responded when Scott couldn’t, tied up with the ball of grief that was their father.

It had been a bad time, but they had struggled through it.

“She used to sing a lot. She and Virgil sang together every Christmas.” His brother hadn’t sung much since, the tradition lost to grief. “She was more open than Dad. Less of a stickler for rules, more willing to be flexible.” Their father was military and he fell back on discipline when at a loss.

Scott thrived under his father’s regime.

Virgil did not.

And his resemblance to his mother didn’t help in the slightest.

“Mom knew how to make Dad smile. She loved a good joke. Heh, I swear Gordon gets that from her. Once she put a jack-in-the-box in Scott’s lunch box. He nearly had a heart attack in the school cafeteria.”

“Why would she do that?” Alan frowned up at him.

“She believed in experience being the greatest teacher. She caught Scott boasting about his parents to another kid who was far less fortunate. About all their successes. She didn’t appreciate it and figured Scotty could come down a peg or two. She succeeded.”

“Wow. Scott did that?”

John snorted. “Scott was a kid as much as any of us once. He’d prefer you believed he sprouted fully formed, but no, he had to grow up and make the same stupid mistakes we did.” Half a smile. “He’s far from perfect, but he tries.”

“He certainly does.” Alan grinned a little fondly, but then his face fell and he sighed. “You’re right. I’m being an ass.”

An arched eyebrow. “I never said you were an ass.”

“No, but I am. You guys have been great. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Except maybe a little less saliva?”

“Eww, yeah, Virg had garlic bread for lunch.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

John couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing.

Alan stared at him a moment longer before his face cracked too.

“Gotta love him anyway, I guess.”

A snort. “Yeah, we do.”

-o-o-o-

Gordon’s career was a fast one. Straight out of high school and into the Olympics. By the time he was eighteen, he had a gold medal hanging on the wall and had started his career in WASP.

Alan missed his fishy brother, but he was ever so proud of him. There had been talk of him joining International Rescue and activating the final Thunderbird once his training and tenure was done. Alan had seen his brother hovering around the slick little yellow submarine and Scott had been heard to wish for the full complement of Thunderbirds to finally be deployed.

The fact John was flying the ‘bird Alan wanted to fly more than anything was beyond frustrating.

Virgil was helping Alan with his physics homework when the call came through.

A familiar face flickered up on the holoprojector at the end of the kitchen table. “Aunt Val. Hey, how are you?” Virgil offered her a smile as Alan surfaced from under the details of pressure, torque, momentum and velocity that were required to tackle the problem at hand.

“Good morning, Virgil. Is Scott available?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s out on a rescue. Can I help you?”

“Hey, Aunt Val.”

“Alan.” Her expression was grave and something in Alan’s gut twisted.

“What’s wrong?”

Beside him, Virgil sat up straighter. “What is it?”

The Colonel sighed. “I’m afraid I am the bearer of bad news. Your brother Gordon has been in an accident...”

And their world dissolved there and then.

Alan didn’t remember much of those early days. There had been frantic calls to brothers, John limping around because he had crashed to Earth too quickly for his own health. The fear in Scott’s eyes had been terrible.

The sight of his fish brother decked out in medical equipment.

The not knowing.

The terror.

Virgil holding him in the hospital corridor while Alan cried his eyes out all over his shirt.

Scott sitting at his brother’s bed, head bowed down to the sheets clinging to a limp hand.

John, vacant eyed, staring into nothing the night they thought they were finally going to lose Gordon.

Virgil crying in his grandmother’s arms.

Scott kicking a hole in Gordon’s door and making enough racket to wake up the dead.

Gordon answering the call and faintly scolding Scott to keep it down.

The hope that followed.

That first week, their lives froze. Everything stopped. School, IR, regular meals, everything. The outside world kept moving around them, ignoring their pain, but within their family everything stopped, narrowing only to the hospital and their desperately ill brother.

Once Gordon woke up. It started to move again.

Life slowly came back.

It became full of odd moments. Brothers in places he didn’t expect to find them. Gordon’s illness brought out aspects of Alan’s family he didn’t expect.

He had to say that the most unexpected was the day John walked into Gordon’s hospital room with his red hair spiked in all different directions. It was as if he had stuck his fingers in a power socket and sprayed gel into his hair at the same time.

Gordon had laughed himself silly and considering there had been tears half an hour prior, this was a major thing.

Apparently Gordon had dared him once to do it and John had saved it for a special occasion.

Alan made sure he took pictures for history’s sake.

Another day he found Virgil curled up asleep in the chair beside Gordon, his head on his brother’s pillow. The engineer was still in his uniform and covered in dirt. The hospital staff were going to have a fit.

Alan stopped in the doorway and Scott collided with his back with a “What?”

“Shhh...” And Gordon was holding up a very shaky and uncoordinated hand that clearly said ‘Leave him be.’

“What’s he doing here? He’s supposed to back at Tracy Island.” Scott’s voice was a worried whisper.

“B-bad rescue.” Gordon’s voice was as shaky as his hand. “Think he w-want to ch-check I’m ‘kay. Cos they weren’t.”

“Shit.” It was little more than expelled breath.

His big brother disappeared out into the hallway and a moment later they had the full story from John.

A boat. A teenage boy. And a flood. Virgil did his best, but there were limits.

They sat together until Virgil woke up, groggy and miserable. Scott took him out of the room and Alan was left alone with Gordon.

“I should been there.” His brother’s speech was patchy. The hydrofoil he had be travelling in had been at travelling at a ridiculous speed. When one of its foils collapsed, he was very lucky he wasn’t killed. There was a long, long road ahead.

“Wasn’t your fault, Gordon.”

“No, but should be there for him.”

As if that was the starting point. His brother picked himself off the ground and drove himself back to health. It took a lot of work and no small amount of pain, but a year later Gordon Tracy presented himself to the Commander of International Rescue ready for action.

It took another six months and Gordon’s birthday for his brother to be drunk enough to mention to Alan exactly what had happened that afternoon and what Virgil had said to him.

His fish brother held up his glass, grim and serious. “Our big bros are THE BEST.”

Alan smiled, hoping to god Gordon wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning. The fact Virgil had come off a hell of a rescue, exhausted and upset, and flown in to see Gordon just to sing him a lullaby was baffling. But it had apparently done something for Gordon and for that Alan would ever be grateful.

-o-o-o-

“So what happens when we find Dad?”

John started, suddenly thrown out of old memories. “Uh, whatever needs to happen?”

“Do you think he will be okay? It has been so long.”

Eight years alone in space. “I don’t know, Alan.”

“How did we not work this out earlier? That capsule was sitting down there all that time. Dad has been waiting so long. He’s missed so much.”

John closed his eyes and touched his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have the answers, Alan. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” His little brother swallowed. “It’s just that I can’t remember much about him anymore. He’s going to be a stranger.”

“He’s our father. We’ll make it work.” They had to make it work. The guilt was tearing Scott apart. Eight years. Eight long years just because they had missed one piece of the puzzle. Dad could have been home years ago.

The yelling had started again. Scott angry and hurt, Virgil battling to keep him on the straight and narrow and tackling his own guilt at the same time.

John felt the guilt, too. He had looked at everything after the incident. Everything. He had even combed space. Eos had been looking for their father from the day she joined him despite John’s heart telling him it was a lost cause, that Scott was wishing for the impossible, that it had been too long. She had been scanning for three years they still hadn’t found him. Until now, and from a clue that could have...should have been found so long ago.

“I wonder what he looks like.”

John closed his eyes.

“Johnny? You okay?”

“Don’t call me Johnny.”

He received a snort for that. “Yeah, well, I guess it will be good to save Dad and bring him home.”

A frown. “You guess?”

“Well, yeah, it will be great. But you are right.”

The frown deepened and he looked over at his little brother. “I right? With what? You’ve lost me.”

“Well, Scott and Virg are really the ones who’ve been there for me, you know?” Alan rubbed the back of his head. “So, like, they are the closest I have to parents. They were doing that gig even before Dad went missing.”

John stared.

His little brother didn’t notice. Instead he stood up. “Well, I guess I should get out of this uniform. Getting a little ripe, I think. Anyway, thanks for the chat, bro.”

And with that Alan bounced out of the lab as fast as he had bounced in.

John blinked and turned back to the calculations he had been trying to wrangle this entire time.

But the numbers ignored him.

Dad.

Scott.

Virgil.

If they found their father, things were going to change.

John frowned and rubbed his face.

Damn.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

 Notes on the Tracy brothers’ ages in this fic:

The conclusions I have come to are based on three things – Alan’s estimated age of 16 in season one, the number of years ago they lost Jeff as stated in season three and counting back using each season as a year with season one being set in 2060, and also the need for the eldest three boys to be adult at the time of the loss of Jeff in order to keep IR running and for Scott to take guardianship of the younger two. So my calculations with a few estimates thrown in are that in 2060 Scott is 31, Virgil 30, John 27, Gordon 21 and Alan 16. I know this is older than generally recognised for TAG and the only age I can be vaguely sure about is Alan’s but there is logic behind these calculations. It does merge it slightly better with TOS, so I think I’ve balanced the two.

Jeff was 24 when Scott was born. Lucy was 22.

Lucy died age 38 when Scott was 16, Virgil 15, John 12, Gordon 6, Alan 1. Jeff was 40.

IR started and they moved to the island when Scott was 24, Virgil 23, John 20, Gordon 14 (not an operative), Alan 9.

Jeff (aged 50) was lost two years later when Scott was 26, Virgil 25, John 22, Gordon 16, Alan 11.

In season three this would make Scott 33, Virgil 32, John 29, Gordon 23 and Alan 18 which is where this story is set.

I generally see Kayo as the same age as Gordon, but in this case she may be a little older, perhaps between Gordon and John.

(It should be noted that in most of my other fics I had the boys generally much younger, but with the canon mention in season three of Jeff having gone missing eight years ago, I have since had to recalculate things otherwise the boys would be too young to keep IR going. In Warm Rain, for example, Virgil is 24 and Kayo 20. This is not possible with the new information of Jeff being missing for eight years because Virgil would have only been sixteen when he disappeared).

[northernscruffycat]

Fandom: She-Ra! (Don’t worry about spoilers I spoiled myself already!) ...Ship: Mai/Ty Lee ...Character: Inko Midoriya, best mum ...Two fandoms: She-ra and Steven Universe! ...5 Characters: Catra, Zuko, Peridot, Jean Descole and Disney’s Stitch. (All the redemption characters!)

Thank you for giving me a lot of topics to write about! You’ve made my morning: She-Ra: (Disclaimer that I love this series so much, I just have a lot of mixed feelings in my opinions) Favorite character: SPOP has a great cast of characters who I love, but my fave has to be Scorpia. I was so endeared by her and rooted for her happiness the whole way through. Least Favorite character: Hesitant to post this, but I never... really cared for Catra that much. I can see why she’s an important character to a lot of folks and the wlw representation she brought is so important, but I didn’t really gel with her character personally. 5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): Scorpia/Perfuma, Entrapta/Hordak (either or both), Seahawk/Mermista, Bow/Kyle and Catra/Glimmer Character I find most attractive: Scorpia haha Character I would marry: Scorpia again, she’s like the perfect wife. Character I would be best friends with: Kyle, because he needs some good friends who treat him nicely. The “Shut up, Meg” attitude that the rest of the cast had towards him made me kinda uncomfortable tbh, even though I know it was intended as a joke. a random thought: There’s so much potential for this series to carry on and I’d love to see an official comic or something pop up that expands the universe. An unpopular opinion: I actually thought they were hinting towards Bow/Kyle with that one scene back in s1 and was surprised to hear that Kyle hooked up with the lizard guy off-screen haha my canon OTP: Scorpia/Perfuma Non-canon OTP: Adora/Huntara (just for something I haven’t already listed) most badass character: Adora, my fave jock pairing I am not a fan of: I already posted about this in that Glimmer character thing recently, but Bow/Glimmer as a romo ship character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): I feel unfair answering this one, since I’m sure the writers were being restricted by what they could include in the show. But I guess it’s fair to say I’m not a fan of that Bow’s siblings thing that happened, if that counts. Since it’s something that wasn’t revealed until after the show wrapped up and could’ve been completely avoided if there had been more black writers on the team. favourite friendship: The main trio - Adora, Glimmer & Bow. I also got super invested in Catra & Scorpia, so I wish they’d had more of a resolution at the end, since they kinda built that up and then dropped it in the last season. character I want to adopt or be adopted by: Bow’s dads Mai/Ty Lee: when of if I started shipping it: It was sometime after watching the series when I went on deviantART and saw cute fan content of them. my thoughts: They’re a nice ship involving two characters who’d be supportive of each other and help each other heal. Which after all these characters have been through, is what I want for them. What makes me happy about them: Their dynamic is so darn cute! Just seeing these two together makes me feel glad. What makes me sad about them: I mean, they’re probably never gonna be canon. Even if Bryke keep being vague for all eternity about if Zuko is still with Mai, that sadly locks Mai off from being able to be with anyone else by proxy, since she always needs to be at least considered an option for Zuko. things done in fanfic that annoys me: I’ll have to confess that I’ve never read any fics for them. things I look for in fanfic: Same again. I love ATLA, but it’s not a series I’d seek out fic for. Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: I guess I’m not entirely opposed to the Mai/Zuko thing? Maybe? I’m not sure about Ty Lee tho, just someone who’d treat her well, I think. My happily ever after for them: They seek each other out for comfort after everything that’s gone now and just kinda realise they’ve been in love with each other all along. who is the big spoon/little spoon: Ty Lee is the big spoon and Mai is the little spoon. I hope there’s fan art of that. what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Training together, maybe? I’m so rusty on my ATLA knowledge that I need to brush up, so I can answer this better. Inko Midoriya: How I feel about this character: She is perhaps the greatest anime mum I’ve ever seen. I love her, I would die for her, I would marry her. All the people I ship romantically with this character: Mostly just All Might. I guess technically also Aizawa for the OT3, but I don’t think we’ve seen them interact yet. My non-romantic OTP for this character: Obviously I love how supportive she is of Deku, it’s part of one of my favourite moments in the whole show. My unpopular opinion about this character: I’m not familiar enough with the fandom to know what the unpopular opinions are. I hope that everyone likes her. One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I just want her to be happy knowing that her son is safe. my het ship: All Might/Inko my fem/slash ship: I don’t really have one, since we haven’t seen her interact with any other milfs my OTP: All Might/Inko my OT3: All Might/Inko/Aizawa (also, Aizawa bottoms) a head cannon fact: It is a fact that I blew her a kiss and wished her a good day. She-Ra & SU crossover ship: Hmm... how about Pearl x Huntara? I mean, Pearl seems to have a type when it comes to women and Huntara fits into that type. 5 Redemption Arc Characters rankings: 1. Peridot 2. Stitch 3. Zuko 4. Catra 5. Descole

[serahsanguine]

What's left Unsaid, Says It All

What’s Left Unsaid, Says it all part 9/?

Rating; NC-17, NSFW

This Story can be Found at Ao3

Tagging; @today-in-fic @skullsmuldon

p.s. If this is formatted wrong I'm posting through a mobile as my pc broke

P.s.s if you would like updates and be tagged please let me know 

**********************************************

Chapter 9; First encounter of a child kind

Mulder stood there on the sidewalk stunned by his own actions and by Scully's sudden change in mood. Why had she gone from wanting nothing to do with him, to kissing him and then back to slapping him all in the span of a couple of minutes? Had he ruined the chance to finally meet his children? Had he ruined the chance of ever seeing Scully again?

He watched as the taxi drove off into the distance, standing there alone and cold when the sound of his cellphone pulled him out of his dark thoughts.

"Mulder, hey, it's Frohike. We've found what we were looking for in the medical records, are you ready for your mind to be blown?"

"It already has been. I know the results, Frohike" Mulder answered through gritted teeth, sounding hopeless and miserable.

"How? And why didn't you tell us that was the reason for our research?"

"Well, we just had a very loud conversation about it... and she finally admitted the truth to me. I don't know, I might've been wrong. I honestly wasn't absolutely sure until a few minutes ago"

The raw emotions behind the words Mulder spoke, told all three Gunmen exactly how much this had been and would continue to affect him. And they all felt terrible for him.

They had seen this type of emotion from Mulder, in the past. It was this kind of emotion that would normally proceed Mulder doing something so unbelievably reckless and get him into trouble - or almost got himself killed.

"Where are you right now? Do you want us to come get you?"

"The Sheppard. And thanks, fellas."

With everything that needed to be said Mulder simply pressed the end call button and stood there... Waiting. He knew the Gunmen would come to get him and stop him from doing something stupid, but he didn't really want to be sober anymore; he wanted to get drunk, so blind drunk that he couldn't remember his own name.

[[MORE]]

***************************************

Scully told the cab driver where to go before falling apart and crying into her hands in the backseat of the taxi. She needed her mom and sister right now, even though what she really wanted was Mulder... but he would always be out of reach.

When she arrived at her mother's house, her face was all blotchy and her eyes were red, puffy and sore. Quickly paying the driver what was due Scully exited the taxi. Maggie had stayed up anxiously awaiting the return of Dana and just so happened to be looking out of the window as the car pulled up. She almost ran to the front door, opening it and engulfing her youngest daughter in a protective hug.

Maggie's heart broke as she listened to Scully's heart-wrenching sobs that were soaking through her blouse. To keep her from getting cold she walked them both silently towards the front door and away from potential prying eyes. She carefully moved Scully into the living room and onto the sofa next to the roaring fireplace.

She left Scully airing there, staring out into the abyss, before going through to the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea. She could tell that Dana was in shock. She couldn't tell what happened but she knew what went on between her and Fox was something she deeply regretted. Maggie heard the kettle whistle and was brought out of thought. Grabbing a towel, she poured the water into cups. When the tea was made, she took the cups through to the living room and placed one in front of Scully on the small coffee table and sat on the chair facing her. She waited.

About thirty minutes later, Maggie guessed Scully had still not come out of her shock state of mind. Suddenly, she heard Will and Ellie start crying and just as she stood up she heard Melissa’s footsteps walking across the landing and into the room the twins were sleeping. She heard small whispers from Melissa and then there were lullabies. Knowing the way Melissa was with the twins made her smile. She was so caring and gentle and content with them. >She would make a brilliant mother some day.

Maggie stayed with Scully till the very early hours of the morning and that was when Melissa sent her mom to get some rest, she would take over. Before Maggie walked up the stairs she took a quick glance at her girl. Missy had managed to get Scully to lie down, her lying by her side with a blanket around them. It reminded her of when they were kids sneaking into each other's beds, or when they sneaked downstairs for snack and both fell asleep on the couch.

//

The next morning

Missy awoke upon hearing footsteps behind her. Turning around, she saw her mom.

"Hey. sweetie. How is she?" Maggie whispered. Missy shook her head as if to say no change and Maggie sighed. Melissa wiggled her way out of the cocoon she and Scully had made to go get changed and have some breakfast.

A few hours later Missy and Maggie were sat at the small kitchen table sipping two coffees. They heard stirred movements from the living room and then they saw Scully walk through to the kitchen, taking a seat opposite them both.

"How are you feeling?" 

Scully looked at her sister and felt like she was going to burst into tears again. Scully was about to speak when she heard the twins so she quickly took herself out of the awkward situation by running upstairs. She was so quick she nearly missed a step on her way up. She walked into the room where her children were and Ellie looked up at her mother wide-eyed. Her and little Will were wearing boy and girl’s version of matching onesies with little grey aliens on. Seeing that took her to resolve away and burst into tears. Both children looked at their mother with confusion.

When Scully managed to calm her emotions, she picked both kids out of the cribs and placed them on their rainbow rug in the middle of the room. Both children instantly felt their mother was upset and moved to Scully, engulfing her in baby hugs and love.

Maggie and Missy had climbed the stairs silently behind her, and stood outside the slightly open door to observe her. They both listened to the conversation Scully had with her kids.

"I met your dad yesterday, you know? I've missed him so much." Scully looked away but she could tell they were both listening, "I told him about you and things didn't go according to plan”.

"Da Da," Ellie uttered innocently.

"Yes, Ellie. I saw Da Da. And I did something very naughty."

Missy and Maggie were still eavesdropping on the conversation, trying not to move too much or make too much noise.

"Ma Ma Nau nau"

"Yes sweetheart. Mommy let daddy kiss her, and Mommy enjoyed it."

Maggie and Missy were physically taken back by what Scully had said. It was evident when they both took a sharp intake of breath.

"Mommy enjoyed the kiss a little too much, but then she got scared and hurt Daddy. Then Mommy said something she regretted and then run away.”

Scully looked at her children who were now invested in playing with their toy blocks and she whispered.

"All I ever wanted was for Mulder to be a father to you," Scully looked at Ellie who was showing her a nice tower. Suddenly she turned around to face the door "Mom, Missy you can come in now."

"How did you know?"

"Neither of you could get jobs as ninjas," Scully said smiling at them. 

Even though she hadn’t spoken directly to her sister and mother, a small weight had been lifted off her chest. Missy picked up Will and Scully grabbed Ellie and they took the children downstairs for breakfast. As Scully was walking down the stairs she thought about Mulder and how she needed to fix the situation; not only for her but for the two little bundles of joy they had created.

***************************************************

Mulder’s Apartment

Mulder woke up alone in his dingy apartment. He could vaguely remember The Gunmen picking him up and driving him home after the third beer and the fifth shot. He was cold and slightly sticky. The sun was out and shining directly at him. He brought his hands up to eyes, rubbing in small circles. His head felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to it.

Mulder sat up on the sofa, feeling groggy and dizzy. All the memories of what happened between him and Scully started coming back to him; of how she had lied to him for so long, the fact that he was a father to not one child, but two. He stood up, feeling nauseous, and quickly made his way to the bathroom, tripping over empty alcohol bottles and a few empty food containers. It was possible he also slipped on some x-files folders on the floor. He managed to lift the toilet seat up before emptying his stomach contents into the bowl.

After he had finished, he realised it was mostly liquid of a funky colour. He stripped off his clothes and threw them in the general direction of the wash hamper, missing by miles. Then he turned on the shower on the hottest setting his body could take, and waited a few minutes to step in and wash the filth and grime away from last night's endeavours.

The water hit his face with a welcome sting as his mind wandered to the kiss from the previous night, so full of passion and longing. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed her, but it was a spur of the moment. Mulder had missed her so much. It was definitely more an impulse than anything. He had to admit that he had enjoyed the feeling of her lips against his and swore he had heard her moan. Or maybe that was him. 

As the water was hitting his face his hand had a mind of its own and it worked its way down to his cock which was now standing to attention. This happened whenever he thought about Scully. Once he realised what he was doing, he felt dirty and ashamed, but he didn't want to stop thinking about her. So, instead of stopping, he put one hand on the tiled wall in front of him and placed his head next to it, slightly bending over and wrapping his other hand around his girth and started pumping slowly. 

His mind was filled with images of her. 

Scully and her perfectly round and perky breasts and the perfect little pink nipples. When he saw her the day before he couldn't help but check her breasts out. They were bigger and fuller than he remembered. What he wouldn’t give to kiss and lick them, to make her squirm in pleasure. He would start by kissing her lips and working his way to her neck, then across her clavicle, leaving little bites and small red blotches in his wake. Seeing her naked was amazing, so delicate, so petite... but he knew she could knock you out with one punch.

His hand was working faster now pumping hard and uncontrolled as he thought about the apex in between her legs. Her smell would drive him insane but her taste would drive him mad! She tasted of strawberries and cream with hints of chocolate mixed in. He loved to give her that much pleasure and she would cry and beg for him as he brought her on the brink of orgasm. He would then stop, he’d do it over and over again. He would use his fingers and his tongue, swirling and flicking. Finally he would let her have her way, he would let her climax happen. Hearing his name would send him into his own climax. 

His fluid squirted out of him hitting the shower wall, mixing with the running water and going down the drain.

Mulder cleaned himself off quickly, washing his body and hair before turning off the shower. He stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist just as the phone decided to ring. He walked briskly through the bedroom and into the living room, and picked up the phone before it stopped ringing.

"Hello?"

"Mulder, it's me."

"Scully?" His voice was barely a whisper as his mind was running away from itself.

"Yes."

"Scully?" (It can’t possibly be her, can it?)

"Mulder... I've been thinking about last night."

Oh, God. She’s going to tell me some bad news. She was serious about last night and she’s running away again... I can't handle this.

“What about last night?" He was hoping he sounded calm and collected because he was anything but.

"It was wrong of me to… Well, I'm sorry about a lot of things over the past 15 months... I want you to meet them and... I'm positive they want to meet you, too."

Oh God. Is she actually saying this? Is she actually letting me see my children? Is this just a good dream?

"No, Mulder. This is not a dream."

Wait! Did I say that out loud? I don't think so. Damn, she can still tell what I am thinking even with being apart so long...

"Say you come around my mom’s about 1 PM tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yes, of course. I will be there. Thank you, Scully."

Mulder was still clutching the phone next to his semi-dried hair. His heart was beating ten to the dozen, thumping so hard he felt like it was going to jump out of his chest. His stomach was doing flip flops. The reality was not quite sinking in. He was really going to meet his children. But first things first: he needed to clean himself up and do some things around the apartment.

**************************************

The Next Day.

Maggie Scully's House

Scully had woken up early today. Her nerves were on edge and she wasn't able to sleep much. She knew her mom thought it was a good thing seeing Fox again, but she wasn't so sure. She knew Mulder seeing his kids would be amazing, she was just scared.

Maggie could hear the restlessness of her daughter from across the hall. She was happy to see Fox again, it had been so long. She did get worried about him. She knew that he would make an amazing father towards her grandchildren. Maybe eventually make a great son-in-law. She was just hoping that, even after everything, Dana and Fox could rekindle their relationship.

Melissa, on the other hand, had her doubts about Mulder coming around. His temper towards her had surprised her and caught her off guard. What also surprised her was how much anger he had built up inside of him and she was scared that he would take it on Dana. But she was conflicted because she really wanted to him to see his kids. Melissa was so frustrated by the situation and didn't want to say something she would regret that she decided she was going out to meet up with some friends and the local art museum.

The hours passed and Mulder and Scully got more and more anxious as time went on. Soon the clock struck twelve, Missy was already out for the day and Scully had put both kids in highchairs, ready for some dinner. There was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," she heard her mom say from the other room.

"Thanks, Mom."

Maggie opened the front door to find a very sheepish and very nervous Fox Mulder.

"Hello, Fox. Come in."

Mulder looked at the older women with an apologetic look 

"Hello, Mrs Scully. If I am too early, I can come back later..."

"Don't worry about it, I can't have you driving around the block for another half hour, can I?" Maggie smiled up at him and gestured for him to come in. When he did, so she closed the door behind him. "Dana and the kids are in the kitchen. She is in the middle of feeding them." She was so warm and welcoming towards him after so long... He wasn't expecting it but welcomed it a lot.

"Thank you, Mrs Scully."

"What have I told you about that? Please, call me Maggie."

He nodded and walked towards the kitchen. Mulder rounded the corner through the living room and towards the kitchen but what he saw kept him in his spot at the doorway.

Scully was sitting at a small round wooden table. She was facing away from him but her hair caught the sun shimmering red, orange and yellow like a sunset. Sat next to her there were two highchairs: a little girl to her right with her deep chestnut hair in a ponytail, wearing a black dress with an orange fox on it. She wore a small yellow bib stopping the food from ruining her clothes. To Scully’s left there was a little boy, every bit a spitting image of his mother, with deep red hair and piercing blue eyes. He was wearing some deep blue baby jeans and a baby version of a polo shirt with little socks peeking out from the table with small grey aliens on. Mulder smiled upon the sight in front of him. Both babies were splashing their food and Scully was trying to stop them and feed them at the same time.

Maggie watched Mulder as the happiness was evident on his face but he still hadn't moved. There was something else she detected, fear maybe. She gave him a slight nudge forward and it caught him off guard. He stumbled not so gracefully into the kitchen. Both children looked up at him.

"Da Da," they yelled in sync.

Mulder smiled at the two infants and answered "yes" as tears started to fall down his face. Not out of sadness, oh no. They were full of pure joy.

Scully looked up at him and could see the joy and amazement on his face. She smiled. 

"You're early," she said teasing

"I'm sorry."

Maggie was watching the exchange from the doorway.

"It doesn't matter. Let me introduce you to the family," Scully said with a smile. “This little boy covered in apple pie is called William, Will for short, Jeremiah Mulder" Scully got the wet tissue from the table and wiped the sticky mess off the little boy’s fingers and face. Once she finished she turned her attention to the little girl. "This little maddam’s name is Ellissa, Ellie for short, Claire Mulder."

"You gave them my last name." It was a statement but also a shock.

"Yes." The reply was short but their eyes locked and spoke a thousand words, and a silent thank you was said. "Will you help me get Ellie out of the highchair, please? And we can take them through to the living room." 

Maggie had gone upstairs to leave the two parents to get reacquainted.

Mulder looked at her scared, not having a clue how to unclip this young child from the highchair. Or better yet, not even knowing how to hold a nearly seven month old. Scully looked at him and smiled, suddenly understanding his worries. She showed him how to unclip and how to hold Ellie before proceeding to the living room.

Mulder picked Ellie and she instantly wrapped her little legs around him and her arms around his neck and snuggled her head into the crock of his neck and shoulder. He could feel the warmth coming of this tiny human he was carrying, thinking of how quickly both children had taken to him almost upon seeing him. He was amazed at how much they loved him and how much he loved them in return.

Scully placed Will down on the rug behind the sofa removing any sharp object so that the twins wouldn’t hurt themselves. She placed their favourite teething toys and some block in front of him. Mulder went to place Ellie down on the rug next to her brother but she would not let go of him. Every time he tried she looked like she was about to cry. So, he tried a different approach: he lay down next to Will, stretching his long legs, and placed Ellie on his lap so she could stay with him but also play with Will.

"They seem advanced for their age," Mulder said, looking at Scully who was looking straight back at him.

"Yes, they are. They get it from you."

Mulder smiled at her. It was a sweet but also bitter, and they both knew it. "They're amazing children, a true reflection of their mother." And this time it was Scully’s turn to smile. Mulder had truly meant what he had said.

An hour later William had started fussing and was getting grumpy, no longer playing with any of the toys in front of him. Scully instantly knew what he wanted, Mulder was none the wiser.

"Mulder, I'll be right back."

"Ok, Scully."

Scully picked up William and took him into the kitchen, leaving Ellie and Mulder playing and laughing. Mulder tried making funny noises and faces to make her smile. Scully always knew he was good with kids, but seeing him with his own was a completely different story.

Twenty minutes had passed and this time Ellie was the one starting to squirm. Mulder tried everything to calm her down and nothing was working. She started crying and his heart broke: he didn't know how to stop her. She wrapped herself around his little finger and heart. He picked her up and wondered where Scully was, so he went to find her.

Mulder went through the hallway, and into the kitchen. When he got to the doorway he instantly went shy and slightly guilty: he saw William attached to Scully's breast.

"Oh! I’m sorry! I can come back..." He was bright red and turned shyly to go back into the living room.

Scully looked up and she felt bad for him turning away and going back the way he came. "It’s ok, don’t apologize. I could have told you what I was doing. I guess she started getting thirsty too." She turned and looked upon Ellie hugging Mulder’s side and then looked down and William upon her breast. "This one took longer than normal." She ended her sentence with a small smile.

Mulder sat down opposite her just as William was finishing up. Scully placed her breast back into her nursing bra and clasped it back up. Ellie knew what was coming and moved her hands to her mother and Mulder took that as a sign to swap children with Scully. Mulder watched as Scully did the same thing but backwards to attach Ellie to her breast. He watched, transfixed on the scene. He had so many questions. One blurted out before his mind had time to catch up.

"Does it hurt?"

She looked at him seeing awe in his eyes. He was blushing when he realised what he had said. "No it doesn't. He did at first, but we are pros at it now. The one thing that does hurt is pumping into bottles so Melissa can feed them."

"You… It looks beautiful."

"Thank you, Mulder. That’s very sweet of you to say."

Mulder gave her his full boyish smile and kept William entertained while secretly stealing glances at Scully.

Several hours passed, full of laughter and joy. Mulder helped Scully fed the twins, which turned out to be a lot messier than either adults intended. It was spaghetti which ended up not only on Mulder but the floor, table, chairs and both children including hair and clothes.

Melissa came back about three. Maggie had told her to leave Mulder and Scully alone but she wasn’t happy about it. She went right into the kitchen. But she stopped her initial plan when she saw him interact with his children  and with her sister. It looked as if no time had passed between them. She did have to admit to herself that Mulder looked like an amazing dad and they looked amazing together.

Mulder helped Scully bath the kids, they played with ducks and boats and loads of bubbles. Mulder pretended to be a man with a massive beard which sent both kids into fits of giggles. His top ended up soaking wet –but it was well worth it. After the kids had finished their bath Mulder dried and changed Will and Ellie into their pyjamas, and into their cribs. He was going to read them a story but before he had a chance both kids were out like a light. So he turned on the night lights, and their spinning lullabies. Those especially made him smile when he noticed they were mini ufos and small grey aliens dancing in a circle. He stood there a few moments watching his children sleep and how peaceful they looked so quiet and so lovable. He could sit there for hours. It was pure and magic. He turned on the baby monitor before leaving the room and he left the door slightly ajar, just in case.

He slowly walked down the stairs. Seeing all three Scully women talking amongst themselves he felt like an outsider. He didn’t want to outstay his welcome, so he went into the living room with the intention of saying goodbye and grabbing his jacket.

"I really should get going."

"Nonsense!” Maggie exclaimed getting up. “Your top is dripping all over the floor. Dana will help you find one of Bill’s old tops and I will take care of this one."

"There really is no need for that, Maggie." She gave him the infamous Scully look that said do as you’re told and he did. "Thank you."

Scully sent her mother a sharp look of dissatisfaction. She knew what her mother was trying to do, and she didn’t like her to to play matchmaker. "I’m sure I can find something for you to wear. Follow me."

Maggie smiled at her daughter before she left the room. Mulder was close on Scully’s heel, she lead him upstairs and instead of going into the spare bedroom where Bill would normally stay, she lead him into her own bedroom. He got slightly uncomfortable since he hadn’t been alone with scully in a long time. He watched her search through her chest of drawers looking for something. He didn’t know what to say or what to do. He loved this woman so much but she had hurt him so much at the same time. His head and heart were in such a terminal. So, he stood there at the door, looking at her bedroom while she shuffled from side to side. Scully suddenly stopped as she had found what she had been looking for. She walked back to him with what looked like his knicks t-shirt.

"Oh, my. Scully, is this one of mine?" He tried to play it smooth but it came out cheesy and slightly flirtatious.

"Yes, Mulder. It is one of your tops. Probably from when you had dinner at my Mom’s when…" She trailed off her sentence, she didn’t want to ruin a good day with sad memories.

"Thank you." 

Scully turned around to give him some privacy. Also she felt the temptation there: to touch him, to feel his toned abs, to feel him tense and relax. It didn’t help that out the corner of her eye there was a full standing mirror, where she could see everything. It was like watching a strip tease in slow motion. Standing there she let her mind wonder and her fantasy overrun her brain. Touching him, feeling him, nibbling and kissing him, scratching her nails down his back... She had to stop thinking like this, they could never be together. It had been a fling that ended badly. Yes, they got something great out if it: two beautiful children. Mulder would never forgive her, though, she knew this in her mind. But her heart still held hope. He had finished changing and told her that she could turn around.

"I really should get going Scully, it’s getting late." He sounded disappointed

"Ok." She sounded disappointed, too. She didn’t want him to go. but she knew he had to. Today had been nice, Mulder spending time with their children and with her. She walked to the door grabbing his coat on the way.

"Thank you for today,” he said on the way out. “I really appreciate the chance you gave me at meeting William and Elissa." Things became suddenly tense and strained, neither knowing how to say bye.

"Thank you for coming. They seemed to really enjoy your company."

"Well. I certainly enjoyed it. They’re amazing children." There was a short pause before he spoke his next words. "I... enjoyed spending time with their mother, as well."

"Mulder please don’t–." She sounded sad, he picked up on it.

"I’m sorry," he quickly changed the subject. "Can I visit them again?"

"Yes , we can arrange a date and time tomorrow over the phone."

"Thank you again. For everything. I really mean it."

She could tell so. His deep hazel eyes spoke volumes, so full of truth and meaning. She really wanted to kiss him right then and there and to forget about the worries. Thing was, she knew he would kiss her right back. But would they be doing it for the right reasons?

"Bye, Dana." He turned and walked towards the car. He took a quick glance up at the sky. It was dark but clear and the stars were shining upon him.

When she saw he reached his car and got in driving away, she closed the door. Standing in an empty hallway she whispered "Bye, Fox."