#also a key point of doing ocs for me is that all of em are hot so that i want to draw them all the time lmao

[devotion-disorder]

I'm planning on setting up an ask blog for my yandere ocs, do you have any tips for running a blog like that?

im not sure if im the best person to be asking about running an ask blog since im…frankly not doing a very good job at it, but i’m still happy to share some thoughts! take em with a grain of salt tho

I think one of the best things about running an ask blog is the collaborative aspect of it! As in, i dont often think of it as “people ask questions and i give answers” but rather “i am given prompts to deepen/ explore my characters”! So really its thanks to all the kind people who send asks to me to shape my ocs into who they are. this is kind of a horrible example but coke can Noel only became canon because of the whole small pp debacle LMAO Point is, i think it can be a fun way to figure stuff out along the way!!

With that said, its about a delicate balance of giving and withholding information. Sometimes im deliberately vague about key information to hopefully intrigue people into asking about it, eg: initially i only stated Noel has face-blindness but did not talk about how/when/why he got it or how that affects him. Once again, and fortunately, people were willing to engage with me and i get to release the lore organically bit by bit. This is not foolproof though, and you gotta lay down a foundation before others can build on it…i’ve received 100+ asks and not ONE person has asked about Kuuya’s right eye, but thats entirely my fault cause i never brought it up myself LOLL

Also i think its useful to diversify the type of content you put out! I originally planned to answer ALL asks with drawings but soon realised that was just impossible, hence i dabble in writing when im unable to draw. It also helps with burnout in general. Its a good way to keep up a regular posting schedule, which i find is very helpful in encouraging people to actually engage with you!

and lastly remember its your blog so its your rules babey!! go wild!! do whatever you want its literally your house. good luck and have fun!!

[joanofexys]

Tell me more about these ocs 👀

(Sorry for anon I'm kinda 😅)

you’re all good, hun! anons are always welcome!!

okay okay so I have my main four AFTG OCs

Florian Laska, Mara Fasil, Emiko Moriyama, and Ilya Kostyk

here’s a post essentially rambling about Florian and Mara

key points are:

they were partners in the nest

Florian’s now a striker, Mara’s still a dealer

they play for the US Olympic team

Florian is 19 like Jean and Neil and dropped out of college, Mara is 23 and graduated in 4 years instead of 5

Florian’s an amputee, lost his left leg and maintains it was an accident that happened during practice

they’re extremely codependent still

they’re a PR nightmare, especially Mara

I haven’t actually talked about Em or Ilya much

Summary of Em (she/her):

middle child

25 years old

yes I created an OC who’s a Moriyama sibling sue me

so extremely gay

backliner

also plays for the olympic team

estranged from essentially all members of her family after graduating from EAU

Em’s lovely, not cause she’s a great person but cause she loves her Raven’s fiercely (especially those who have left the team) and she will start any number of fights for them. She’s nowhere near perfect and she should be seeing a therapist but she is trying her goddamn hardest to be the complete opposite of pretty much everyone in her family

I think she gets along well with Renee and once Jean transfers to the Trojans she definitely reaches out to some of them even just to check in. Her and Thea are also good friends. I don’t think she’s worn the color black since she’s graduated, the girl looks like a rainbow and I support her. She’s extremely affectionate with her current teammates which might be partially because of how hard she checks them during practices

I think that’s most of what i’ve got for her

Ilya (he/they):

Is my only non-Raven OC lmao

22 years old

Played for Penn State (graduated in 4 years)

Goalkeeper

If it's not obvious at this point he's a olympic player, i'm basically creating a whole team lmao

transman cause i said so and that's very important to me

has 3 sisters who he's very close to, youngest child

they speak English, Spanish, and ASL and they're teaching Flor ASL

Ilya my beloved. He's such a little shit and I think we're all better off for it tbh. They're so loud and take up space and I honestly think he's the perfect person to show Flor how to do so. I do think he and Florian end up dating at some point in the future cause I think they work really well together.

They are truly just some guy. Grew up in a great and supportive family and they all love him dearly. He's gets on great with most people except for the Ravens and so it takes a minute for him to warm up to Florian and Mara especially and he and Mara still butt heads plenty but he and Florian got partnered together for drills and it was like their little bonding moment

After the events of TKM he truly becomes the foxes #1 fan. He is rooting for them constantly and so annoying about it.

Ummmm idk I have trouble thinking of stuff without specifics to go off of so that's what's bouncing around in my head atm

[bed-chemist]

joel and ginny's first date

Oneshot Summary: joel and the sweetest baker have their first date.

Chapter Warnings: this is all fluff, language, slight age gap (F!MC and Joel are 6 years apart), symptoms of anxiety and depression, lmk if i forgot something.

Series Tags: chef! Joel, single! father Joel, no outbreak! Joel Miller, slow burn, dual-pov, fluff, flirting, friendship, eventually established relationship, eventual smut, original character, black!fem!OC, no y/n.

⋆ word count: 2.1k⋆

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist, joel masterlist ⋆ spotify playlist ˖ ݁ 𖥔.

A path is getting worn into my rug with the amount of pacing I’m doing. Gnawing on my lip, my mind spins with thoughts of what’s about to happen. I’ve never wanted to be with someone so bad in my life. But I’ve also never been so nervous to go on a date with someone. I want it to be tremendous, but I’m scared of being totally and completely addicted to him.

My phone buzzing in my hand brings me out of my spiral, and when I look at it, I see Joel’s text letting me know that he’s outside on the screen. I quickly slip on my black wedges and take one last look at myself in the mirror to adjust anything out of place. The two-piece tight set that I’m wearing has an open space that shows my belly button piercing, and I absolutely love the outfit. I'm hoping Joel will too. 

I scan myself one more time before I grab my purse, putting my lip gloss and keys in it before zipping it shut. My hands shake from nerves and excitement as I quickly scurry out the door and descend the stairwell. Joel comes into view when I reach the front of the bakery, and I immediately drink him in. Damn. He looks good enough to eat. 

The gray button-up he’s wearing with a few open buttons near the top has my mouth practically watering even more than usual. Since he hasn't noticed me yet, I take the time to admire his freshly cut hair and lightly tanned skin. As my eyes scan him further, I notice that he's holding a beautiful bouquet, making me smile.

He's still looking down at his phone when I push the door open, but his eyes immediately snap in my direction at the sound. As soon as his eyes lock on to my form, his head is thrown back and a groan escapes him. “Damn it, Sugar.” He straightens up and looks back at me. “How are we supposed to go on a date when you look like that?” he bellows, meeting me halfway to bend down and kiss me sweetly.

I step back from him, suddenly panicking at the thought of Joel not liking my outfit. “Do I look bad? I look bad, don’t I? Should I change?” I ramble, rubbing my sweaty palms on my skirt.

He wraps his arms around my waist, burying his head into my neck to pepper me with kisses. “No. Hell no. You look amazin’, Sugar. Wear whatever you want. As long as you like it, I love it. Don’t you dare change,” he states, squeezing my ass. 

Relief washes over me, and a smile directed at Joel forms on my face. He hands me the bouquet, and I thank him, bringing them to my nose to smell. “These smell good,” I observe. 

His hand moves to the small of my back, ushering me towards his pickup truck. He smiles at me, running his hand up and down my back. “Glad you like ‘em, Sugar.” 

My smile widens at that, and I enjoy the happiness. Nobody has ever made me feel as good as Joel–it's one of the many things on my list of what I adore about him. Probably right next to his smirk-smile. I make a mental note to tell him that at some point, not feeling confident enough to tell him just yet.

Joel opens the car door, allowing me to slide in and get comfortable before he gently shuts it. He quickly jogs to the driver’s side, slides behind the wheel, and starts the car. 

“So, where are we going?” I inquire, both out of curiosity and excitement.

Shifting the car into drive, his hand slides over to my leg. “Hope you don’t mind, I asked for a bit of help. We’re going to the cat cafe.” Ah, Maddie. She knows I’d kill for 10 minutes in a room full of kittens. Especially when it’s nearing December, meaning we’ll be busy as fuck with a new holiday every day of the month.

I clap my hands together, bouncing a bit, even more excited now. Seeing Joel interact with cats was not on my bingo card for the year but I’ll gladly accept it. I try to stuff the giggle down my throat and lace my hand with his. But it slips out a little anyway when I bring up his hand to my lips to kiss it. I smile over at him, amused.

We park fairly close to the door and when the sign for the restaurant comes into view, and my breathing quickens in anticipation. Now I’m going to be dreaming about Joel, Ellie, and a kitten when I sleep at night. The more I think about the cute pink paws, the more I start to bounce, causing me to veer off into the middle of the street. 

All of a sudden, Joel stops walking, gently yanking my hand and making me fall into his chest. “Sugar, I’m sayin’ this because I care about you. You never, ever, walk on the outside of the sidewalk. I want any possible car to hit me first before they get close to you. Okay?” he pleads with desperation, still making sure the people passing us can’t hear our conversation.

I blink up at him for a second, processing his words. Then, my hand comes up to cup his face, running my thumb across his stubble. “Yeah. I got ya,” I affirm, standing on my tiptoes to pucker my lips for a kiss. 

He nods, giving me a quick peck. To ensure my safety, Joel pulls me until I’m firmly on the inside of the sidewalk, away from the street. I smile and shake my head. It’s nice to be looked out for. 

When we enter the cafe, we’re greeted by a group of employees, waiting for us to check-in. Joel speaks for us and I wander the lobby, admiring the art on the walls. There’s a mural that looks like how I envisioned Ellie’s would look in my shop. I slightly flinch when Joel pulls me out of my days with a hand pressed firmly on my back. “They’re ready for us,” he informs me and I look up at him with a smile on my face.

“Reminds me of El,” I murmur, pointing to the mural. He grunts in response, letting me know that he heard my comparison. But last night he told me every piece of artwork reminds me of Ellie, which is true.

When we get into the kitten room, I survey the space. There’s no one around but us and the staff in the typically busy cafe. We walk up towards the counter to order the coffee when I notice all the furniture has been moved to the edges of the cafe. There are toys and treats scattered along the bright rug.

My head whips over to Joel, my jaw already on the floor when I realize he’s booked a private half hour. “You did not,” I exclaim, pushing his shoulder.

He smiles, bending down to kiss my shoulder. “I did, Ms. Scott,” he murmurs, staring at the large coffee menu on the wall.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Mr. Miller. I will leave here with a cat,” I warn him playfully.

I bounce again, excitedly telling the cafe waitress my order. Joel orders the same thing before grabbing my hand to walk me over to the middle of the room. “Go ahead and sit. I’ll be back with the coffee. They should be letting them out any second,” he instructs sweetly. 

He disconnects our hands, allowing me to sit and get comfortable before he turns to go back to the counter. Just as he predicted, the door opens, and a bunch of fluffy balls come darting out.

It doesn’t take long for a group of kittens to notice I’m sitting with a bag of treats. The moment my hand dips into the bag, the kittens become insatiable. My lap is full while I equally distribute them their fishy flavored snack.

When Joel returns, I’ve completely forgotten about the coffee. The kittens so dramatically requesting belly rubs in front of me are addicting. Nonetheless, when he takes his seat across from me I crawl into his lap, missing his touch.

Joel secures his arms around my waist, allowing two particular kittens to play with his shoelaces. “They’re so cute,” I mumble.

“They are,” Joel replies with his lips ghosting right above my ear.

The more I watch them play, the more I want them. I take a sip of the latte, thinking about how nice it would be to have a cat to spend time with. Off days curled up with my cat sounds like a dream.

I reach forward, softly lifting the orange one and cradling it in my chest like a baby. “I should take it home,” I look down at it, stroking it’s head with my finger.

“You should?” I hear Joel ask.

My head turns to look at Joel. “I told you bringing me here was dangerous,” I remind him.

The grey kitten, seemingly jealous of its sibling receiving attention crawls up Joel's arm. He winces feeling the claws of the tiny cat lightly pierce his skin. When the kitten has finally reached its summit, it turns around, sitting proudly on Joel’s shoulder.

Joel stays still allowing the cat to rub its body onto his neck. He slightly flinches at the sensation and the giggle I’ve been holding in slips through my lips. My head falls back in laughter and I have to remind myself I’m still holding a tiny kitten in my arms.

Joel extends his arm, scratching the cat a couple of times on the noggin before returning his attention to me. “But do you have energy for a cat?” he pries.

“Of course I do. And besides, I can't leave it here,” I try to reason with him.

His head tilts towards me and the kitten’s does the same. Don’t laugh, Ginny. Secure the cat first. “You can,” he argues.

I look down at the now-sleeping tabby in my arms. My heart feels like it’s beating through my chest when I hear a familiar purring sound come from its body. “I can’t,” I repeat.

Joel sighs, grabbing the kitten off his shoulder and setting it softly on the floor. “Alright, Sugar. At least let me pay for the adoption fee,” he concedes, standing.

A squeal leaves my lips and I down at my new baby. Joel extends his hand for me to grab and walk up to the employee at the counter. “Can I adopt this cat?” Joel asks, pointing to the little lion in my arms.

The employee stands on her tiptoes, looking at the animal in my arms. “Yeah, Toph is available. But you have to take her sister Katara, too,” she stipulates.

Joel takes a deep breath before a noise below us grabs my attention. Katara has a loose shoestring in her mouth and she’s wrestling with it, trying to pull it out of Joel’s shoe. “Joellllll,” I beg with the best puppy dog eyes I have in my arsenal.

Joel’s eyes flicker back and forth between mine and I can tell he’s trying to hold firm. “Ginny,” he groans.

I bend my knees, scooping Katara up to keep her from destroying her future dad’s shoes. “I need these cats,” I repeat, holding them up near my face. “Look, look at the fluffy bellies,” I pout.

Joel scratches his scruff with frustration. “It’s not about the fluffy bellies, Ginny. I’m worried I’m gifting you work,” he explains. 

I reposition the kittens so I can continue this conversation with the stubborn man. “Joel, I’m not a fucking child. Come on. If you let me get Toph and Katara, I’ll let you have joint custody,” I try to make a deal with him.

A wave of disgust washes over his face. “I don’t want joint custody of two fuckin’ cats,” Joel deadpans, gesturing to the fur balls and I snort.

I step closer to him, batting my lashes at him. “But, Ellie would kill you if she found out you said no to us 3,” I pur. I know I can’t resist him, so I’m assuming this will work since he can’t resist me either.

Joel’s brows knit and I’m assuming he’s thinking about the possibility of my words coming true. “Okay. But only because they make you happy, Sugar,” he concedes with a sigh.

I tickle Katara’s belly. “Yes. The best benders are coming home with us,” I cheer lowly to my new kittens.

I can’t wait to introduce them to Ellie. Best fucking first date ever.

feedback

[simplymisty]

SUPER MEGA PROTIP FROM ARTFIGHT VETERAN!!!!

HAVE FUN!!!!!!!!!

Okay, no, on a serious note: here's some things I would like to share with new people as a person who participates in Artfight since 2019:

you don't have to make fully rendered attacks. sketch is a category for a reason! "even" sketches are immensely appreciated

actually, you don't even have to *draw* for attacks! last year I did some minecraft skins for fun. saw someone make dice sets as attacks. as long as it's allowed and it's art created by you (and tagged accordingly) you can make whatever the heck you want!

you don't have to make your art digitally either. traditional attacks are epic. love em

having fancy character references is not a requirement! if art of ur oc shows their design (or at least most important aspects of it) and is decent quality, it's enough. a lil tip tho - don't add shaded/textured drawings for that matter, hard to color pick. if these are the only ones you have, make a basic color palette next to it!:) helps others make your character look accurate

pace yourself. yes, there are people who draw attacks everyday. yes, there are people who drop attacks with 100+ characters in it. doesn't mean you have to do same thing! it's all about having fun and, trust me, grinding until you are sick of drawing is not fun. been here, done that

revenges and friendly fire aren't a MUST. you want points? okay, if u wanna grind, then go ahead and attack opposite team! person who attacked you has characters that you can't/aren't comfortable with drawing? it's okay not to do revenge. Revenges are fun, I always try to do them, but it's not something you absolutely must do.

try to always read characters permissions and descriptions. sometimes there's key info in them and I feel like it's quite important to stay accurate to them. again, if you can't do something they ask you there - it's okay to choose different character or person to attack

don't attack someone expecting them to 100% attack you back. if you set your expectations to that, you might get disappointed and it takes away the fun from ya. attack because you want to draw the character, because it has cool story, cool design, the person is cool so you want to give em a lil gift, etc, etc. Same as you don't have to attack everyone back, they don't have to either

hitlists are optional. some people make em, some don't. same with those funky id cards, my lazy ass gave up on em this year and it's cool 👍

basically don't be an ass, have fun and remember to take breaks!

Also, if ya want, add my dumbass (~simplymisty_) on artfight, because I'm in jail of making refs at the last minute, so I try not to go on AF until im done with em. I do friendly fire, revenges, revenge chains and try to draw basically anything. Love that artfight grind. Hope you liked my autistic rant, it's 5 am and idk what I'm talking about anymore

[stardustfanfare]

You should. Tell me about your ocs

yess ok so im not great at coming up with a story so its mostly bits and pieces so u can take... pretty much all of this as subject to change but some of the key points

theyre on a silly little spaceship

the star in their solar system is weird and causes abnormalities (going for a kind of absurdist horror vibe. abnormalities such as non linear time and weird Things and. idk. u get the point. i just wanna shove body horror in somewhere)

there's four of them (recently redesigned one of em tho so again their designs could be drastically altered. besides finley whos been with me through many months) and i want the story to focus on their individual character arcs and isolation despite being in the same physical place

i also wanted to experiment by giving their universe a Main Conflict and then having OTHER people deal with that, making them essentially side characters in their own story

and i get to cram aesthetics into it!!!!! i also tend to figure stuff out While i talk abt them so i do enjoy doing that even though the total amount of fleshed out content is very low

[basicallyjaywalker]

School has kept me from being able to fully focus on sitting down and writing (plus I've been more social) but I wanted to give a little update on my writing endeavors

NSM AU

The first one I wanna write is Curse of the Anacondrai. I wanna characterize Chen very specifically as just your very odd eccentric noodle man and Clouse is his shadier financials guy. Also his wife is going to be in this bc it's my AU and I get to choose the canon. Skylor is here too to help and provide me with fun character interactions.

I am unsure of how long I want it to be but I feel like 1-2 chapters should suffice, with one being an exposition and the other being solving the mystery. I am trying not to overcomplicate it in my head and keep it to the vision of very classic Scooby Doo mystery shows. The hardest thing to choreograph will probably be the normal visual gags esp the chase scenes. I wanna somehow give Cole and Jay the same goofy visuals that Shaggy and Scooby get but I don't have any SFX to work with

And I do know who's behind the mask ;)

Monster Living AU

"Thissss reeksss of cultural appropriation" <- Skales at some point he will be helping the Ninja

So I definitely want there to be a lot of these monster themed areas, the main one being Serpentine Square, which is the grandest endeavor built out near the (now destroyed) City of Ouroborus. I also want Oni, Sea Monster, Skeleton, and Ghost themed areas. I have an idea for the conflict but I'm not sure how it will be resolved. Kruncha and Knuckle are definitely living in the Skeleton one.

I'm also trying to figure out how the ninja get wrapped into this, with part of me almost wondering if someone reaches out to them to sponsor or promote the villages and when they go to visit alarm bells start ringing.

Patty Keys will be making an appearance as the real estate agent helping people move in and buy these hot new properties

Finally, I'm debating on if this place should be marketed more towards the "Monster Adults" of Ninjago (probably alt kids in their 20s-30s) or more towards families. The branding of MMAP kinda gives more kid friendly vibes but also the aesthetic is very alt core and the main conflict might work better with that vibe going on.

God AU

This is just self-indulgent. What if when EMs die they ascended? That's this AU and it's just the EMs immortal lives in a cloud kingdom (not the one from the show). This is the only AU so far I'm definitely including my OCs in although they'll probably make guest appearances in the others

Some thoughts I've had so far include

* Lloyd and Luna rule over the Light and Dark parts, also acting as Order and Chaos. Each has a team of EMs who fulfill similar duties in each realm

* Jasmine is called "The Alchemist" and is part of Luna's realm. She has this castle dungeon lab of sorts where she basically does unethical experimentation and occasionally goes to visit Nya on the beach at night

* The previous generation of EMs are there and enjoy causing havoc bc they do not have to be responsible. Lily and Duke host concerts every morning to herald the sunrise

* Kyle, Jonathan, PIXAL, Ronin, and all other mortal, non EMs who were family, aids, friends, or lovers get to join the party when they die too. Jonathan is Jasmine's kind of assistant and is pretty jaded after a Tragic Backstory. Kyle is like a page for the entire light realm and spends a lot of his free time with Jay

* Jackie and Lloyd wife and husband ruling this kingdom and basically having to keep their friends from petty, world ending squabbles, that is all

[mamamittens]

Bit of a stream of thought ramble where I vaguely saunter through the creation process of an OC

Specifically my Naruto light thread baby

I usually default to girls but I'd like to start off assuming neither for the time being. May settle on a gender later.

Anyway, for their background I've already settled that their family are more or less homesteaders. Maybe they themselves are a transplant, maybe they live in the Konoha stick, idk. But by default they're probably just really handy around the house. Homemaking, animal rearing, all that home on the range shit. They just grew up with it.

Still undecided on ninja status.

So usually when designing an OC I enjoy determining an aesthetic. And since a massive part of this OC is the use of their hands with thread, they'll have very elegant, long fingers. Spindly sort of hands. Delicate. Those scars/tattoos from chakra exposure still present, may cause sensitivity issues.

With the hands so firmly determined, The rest will need to compliment that.

A tall, willowy figure would be nice and not make the hands seem out of place. Giving them a waifish look? Clothing wise I could go in several directions. With their background they likely enjoy hardier, more utilitarian clothes with some sentimental pieces. Had the brief image of dark academia vibes but I think I just like putting my OCs in nice button ups and slacks lol

Maybe they like walking barefoot. Not hating shoes but easily forgetting them.

Their gloves are going to have to be thin since they basically sew. Perhaps some chakra blocking fabric? Not overly long while they work, maybe just their palm and fingers need to be covered. Out and about they may prefer longer, more opera style gloves to prevent staring or, at night, notable glowing.

Deeply trying to avoid putting them in overalls for no other reason than to not just make them southern lol

Putting aside clothes for now (I wanna marinade the personality a little more!) I think a little bit of a spacey vibe would be good for this character! Easy going, perhaps poor at explaining themselves, distractible, and kind! Very eager to make little gifts for people. They seem pretty checked out but they do notice more than people think! More prone to just not interact with someone being mean to them than lashing out, not seeing the point in even defending themselves.

I also like to think they're very independent and shockingly competent in odd areas! Also very well prepared even when it doesn't seem so at first. Makes friendship bracelets out of light (had the funny thought that they do straight up call it Light Thread, but people for some reason assume they're describing weight or strength, not literal source).

Given all this, they'd likely favor clothing with space. Room to move. Room to carry little projects. Pockets and more pockets for all the little things they find. They're seen as a little childish and unaware and give me wanderer vibes for some reason!

So, perhaps they wear something like tobi pants? And perhaps peasant blouses? Or maybe I wanna do low-key sexy and have em wear sleeveless black turtlenecks lol. I enjoy the idea of giving them a little caplet or cloak to wear in the rain with pockets? Going for a vaguely "Borrowers" vibe. Like they're two steps away from being the size of a mouse and living in a house made of abandoned spools. Still barefoot by accident most of the time and anytime someone reminds them about wearing shoes they just... Pull out a pair of slippers from their pockets.

Color wise, they probably enjoy more natural hues. With some cute, cottage core pops of color here and there.

Hair... Hair... Well, they're probably already pretty tan. Love the idea of chaotic freckles everywhere on their skin. As for hair... Hmmm... I like the idea of long hair, not as a stylistic choice, but almost like they keep forgetting to do something about it. Idle braids scattered here and there and it all bundled up in a bun. Would be fun if it just made a giant whorl at the back of their head, held together by hair sticks or something. Vaguely needle or crochet hook or something. Funny thought! It's impossible to tell how long it is cause it's all literally wrapped around a damn spool with giant as needles securing it. If I lean hard into sewing inspiration for the hair, I'm obligated to give their clothes at least one giant button. Sorry. Thems the rules.

Their eyes will likely be kinda droopy, vaguely sad looking. Just to add to that "absent minded" vibe. Soft, not especially sharp in the face. Color... Still haven't decided. May do something weird with eyes since half their thing is seeing light as a tangible force to begin with but we'll see how long I remember that lol

Don't have a name for them either still now that I think about it.

The overall impression of this character is that, somehow, they're a functioning adult. Even though they read like they should have a minder or at least a very worried bestie constantly making sure they ate. But they have a meticulous schedule, very rarely lose track of their surroundings seriously, and are much sharper than they seem. Ditzy, eccentric home maker vibes, perhaps.

Ah... Still not sure about their gender lol, but I'm eepy, so this is where I'll end it.

Thanks for following my wild train of thought!

[mikkock]

I love the drawings of your ocs so much! How do you come up with them (and so many)?!

Thank u v much!!!!

As to how I have that many, sometimes I have homework, n so instead of doing it I make an OC, that’s how i get that many.

More seriously, I think the sheer amount comes from the way I rarely make ONE new OC on its own, I like creating them by friend group, so when I add new people, it’ll rarely be by less than chunks of 4. Since I develop OCs’ personnalities etc... by imagining interractions between them, making them on their own isnt much fun, and doesnt help me give them an actual characterisation lmao.

Generally I make a new squad when I get an idea of a theme or vibe that I don’t actually have (for exemple the one i dote on most these days are like “the art kids” cause i realised i had bitches in mostly any field but art n thats like. what i do, so i made em n accidentally got too attached). It often comes from “ah i wanna portray this or that” n then I make a group of people to tell about “this or that”, and then I hyperfixate on them for a two years til I move on to a new subject...

Case study time cause This “Story” created a TON just for it, but Vince n Xiaoli’s story (I think I have a post on them but I’m kinda too lazy to get it but in short childhood best friends got seperated very suddenly n try to find each other again when they’re adults despite only having very vague memories of each other) had me need to create SO MANY side characters!! Both of them are outgoing people to an extent so they both had their regular friendgroup (so I needed an ‘USA’ squad and a ‘HK’ squad), then I also needed a bit of ‘Competitive Athletes’ since Vince is one, and you don’t want big competitions to be just the main guy n faceless individuals... I DID recycle A LOT OF characters when they matched the requirements (mostly geographic requirements lmao), but just to make the entourage of these two, I created about ten new characters (+the two mains). 

And when creating those groups, I try to think of the profiles of the existing characters to make other personnalities (cause if they all have the same traits that aint gon do fun interractions) that not only would get along but also can have some clashes cause conflict is fun in stories. I wont want to make a group full of playful demons, nor do i want a group of serious peaceful diplomats, I try to put a bit of everything and make it cohesive. If two characters clash constantly I will also put in a calm peacemaker, and also an energetic fun one to make the group move on from the conflict. Cause even though having all the characters the same n get along is boring, if they’re supposed to be Tight Buddies, having them be constantly fighting and never solve their conflict wont make it realistic (they should have disagreements, even sometimes fight, but in the end they care bout each other n love each other and overcome those conflicts, and that’s why they’re the tightest friends)

I also try to make them diverse visually because I don’t want to be drawing the same face all the time (sdfhgdjfjgs i say, as i always draw,,, the same bitches,,,,im a fraud) But in general I think like, if I were to draw a line up of all the characters (just the thought makes me shiver what a task), would they be identifyable from one another? Or would it be a confusing “why did you draw that one five times?”. Ideally I want mostly only the ones who are related to look similar, though if some peeps who arent share some traits but are different enough sometimes I let it slide cause I mean, in a hundred people some are bound to look a bit alike right? Not exactly the best design mindset lmao but I’m doing this for fun so whatevs u kno? So it’s a game of balancing making them different enough but also not obsessing over it, and I generally settle that with giving each kid some defining characteristics (a specific noseshape, eyebrows, teeth stuff, mouth shape etc...). 

By giving a few to each character I make sure that they stay recognisable through that combo of features. (for ex, sometimes i feel i made vince’s n kai’s faces a bit too similar, but even in black and white and with a swimming cap on, they maintain little differences - kai’s eyebrow slit and eyebags, vince’s dimples and hollower cheeks, and their noses have opposite slopes, kai’s bumps slightly upwards n vince’s goes in, its not a LOT but its enough for me lmao, especially combined with like, their different colours and styles)

When you got a lot of stories in mind, the numbers quickly go up (and i say that as someone who has most stories be with the sAME TWO BITCHES IN ALTERNATE STORIES)

anyway tl:dr find a subject u want to talk about or a story you want to tell, make a handful of characters to tell it, spend all your time daydreaming about them interacting. give them all a little of something that makes em unique. boom u got ocs. (n then only ever draw the same two despite havin a hundred of kids)

[halfrican-heat]

Ain't Shit (R. Drysdale)

SUMMARY: Set in the Knives Out universe. Ransom wants to be a big happy family and reunite with his girl. But as always, there is more to the story...

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Black!OC

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Cursing, OOC!Ransom, Toxic relationship, Arguing, Single Mom!OC, Ransom cries lol, Heated discussions, Mentions of cheating (It's Ransom, I mean...), Mentions of character death (canon-compliant), Discussions of sex

A/N: I believe that is everything in the warnings, but please let me know if I missed something. As always, please enjoy. Beta'd by @serpentico and my bf :) -Lyv <3

Song Inspo: Ain't Shit - Doja Cat

Masterlist

“No, Steph, I just don’t see the point of having a rich baby daddy if he’s still gonna behave like a fucking deadbeat,” I complain to my sister, rifling through my purse for my keys. “Like he don’t do shit for his damn son or me.”

I sigh, all I wanted was to get into the house. Not be stuck on the damn porch. A cool breeze flutters around me as I shift the phone to my other ear. I shiver a little, digging through my purse a little faster. I know I had them when I got out the car!

“We tried to warn you, sis. That boy ain’t shit and them Thrombey motherfuckers ain’t nothing to mess with. Marta told me they thought she was fucking the grandaddy, girl.”

“Who, Harlan?” I pause. “Marta’s into that geriatric shit?”

“Bitch, for the right amount of money--”

“Stephania,” I warn teasingly, but she continues.

“--I would be, too! They couldn’t prove it. But if she was fucking that old man, I wouldn’t blame her.”

“But ain’t she just his day nurse?” I ask, cradling the phone on my shoulder.  

I rifle more rigorously through my purse. Where the hell are my keys? 

“Yeah, girl! But they asses can’t imagine someone actually being a decent person ‘cause they’re all crooked as hell. They just assume everyone else is, too.”

I suck my teeth, growing irritated because my keys are still missing. “Fuck, Steph, let me call you back. I can’t find my--”

“Keys?”

The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down my spine. I suck in a short breath, exhaling as I address my sister again. 

“Steph, let me call you back.”

“Wait! Wa--”

I hang up the phone and drop it in my purse. I turn to face Ransom Drysdale who leans casually against my stair railing, dangling my keys from his finger. A lazy smirk graces his features as he shakes my keys at me tauntingly. 

“You dropped ‘em on your way out of the car. You should really pay attention to your surroundings, kitten.”

His grin is cocky as he tosses my keys in the air and catches them. I keep my gaze impassive, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“Ransom, how the hell did you get here?” I ask.

“I drove,” He replies, shrugging. 

“Nig-- Ransom, no. How the hell did you find my house? We don’t exactly share the same area code anymore.”

“Oh,” he replies easily. “Darling, I’m rich. You don’t think I have ways of keeping tabs on my son?”

“Well, you’ve never shown much of an interest in him until now, so…”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, and I feel guilty for a moment. His tone becomes serious as he speaks again. 

“That’s not true, Amalia. Don’t do that.”

“Yeah. Well, Facetime calls aren’t enough, Ransom.”

I snatch my keys from him, quickly opening the door. I intend to slam it behind me, but Ransom shoves his heavy-ass boot in the door. I groan in exasperation, as he follows me inside. I drop my purse on the chair by the door and slip off my shoes. The door shuts quietly behind me. I look back to see Ransom hovering by the door, surveying the space. For a moment, I feel insecure.

My little duplex isn’t much. The living room is modest with nice but inexpensive furniture decorating it. Baby toys are scattered all over the place along with paperwork from my job. A doorway leads directly to the kitchen with a pass-through and barstools. There’s also a little hallway off to the side that leads to the bedrooms and the bathroom. I know it’s not as lavish as Ransom is accustomed to, so I immediately feel defensive over my little home.

But as soon as the insecurity rises, I stomp it down. I did this on my own. Without him. So who gives a fuck what he thinks. After a while, Ransom still has yet to speak.

I sigh, turning my back to him. 

“Take your shoes off if you’re planning on staying.”

I leave Ransom behind, wandering into the kitchen. Rummaging through the fridge, I find some leftovers from the night before and pop them into the microwave. Ransom takes a seat at one of the barstools as I go back to the fridge, pulling out a jar of Arizona tea. I fill a glass and slide it to him wordlessly. I fill up a glass for myself and lean against the counter furthest from him. The low hum of the microwave fills our otherwise silent environment. 

I size Ransom up, taking in the noticeable changes I see in him. He’s not clean-shaven like he was the last time I saw him. Instead, he has a short, well-maintained beard. His hair is parted to the left and gelled precisely enough to give him a “lightly tousled” look. Very corporate. Very…not Ransom. 

His greenish-blue eyes look dull. I would write it off as the lights not doing his eyes justice if not for the reflective glare he’s leveled his cup with. His eyes have lost that vitality and fire I always admired. Instead, there’s something vulnerable about him right now.

Despite this, his physique has not changed one bit. If anything, he’s been working out more. His shoulders fill out his off-white cable knit sweater, a soft look that contrasts his otherwise muscular frame. The muscles of his jaw tense, and I force myself to take a sip of tea instead of reaching to rest my hand on his face. 

The shrill beep of the microwave startles both of us. I whirl around, spilling a bit of my drink on the floor. 

“Fuck,” I curse, pulling my food from the microwave. 

I set the steaming container and my cup on the counter near Ransom and grab some paper towels. 

“Still clumsy as ever, huh, kitten?”

I scoff, wiping at the small puddle on the floor. Standing up, I trash the damp towel and turn to him with my hand on my hip.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call you what, kitten?” He shoots back, not missing a beat.

I roll my eyes. Just like that, the pensive, tired man from moments ago has disappeared. In his place is the insufferable man-child I fucked around and had a baby with. 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I ask, fishing through my drawer for a fork.

“I can’t see the mother of my son?” He teases. “After all, I never do anything for you or my son, right?”

Though I know he means it to come across lightheartedly, I can hear the edge in his voice. For the second time today, I feel guilty. I didn’t know he heard that. Still, I’m not going back on a damn thing I said. It’s not like I lied.

“It’s the fucking truth, Ransom. If you want me to take it back then you’re shit out of luck.” 

 He presses a hand to his chest, feigning offense. I toss the lid from the container aside and shove a bite of pasta into my mouth. Ransom continues with the dramatics, of course. 

“How could you possibly say such a thing to the father of your child?”

He continues to “clutch his pearls”, his mouth agape. I chew slowly, arching my eyebrow at him. 

“Are you done?” 

Ransom huffs, rolling his eyes. 

“You act like I had a choice in the matter. Besides, I didn’t make you leave,” He retorts. “You did that on your own.”

I squint at him, swallowing. 

“You wanna go there, Ransom? You wanna do this right now?”

He twists his mouth, tugging his bottom lip with his teeth. Ransom slides from the barstool and strolls around the living room, shoving his hands in his jeans. 

“Where’s my son?”

“That’s not your business,” I say, taking another bite.

He scoffs, flopping himself on the chair by the door. He fidgets in the seat, shifting to remove a stuffed bear from underneath him. He holds the well-loved toy between his fingers, grimacing before tossing it away.

“My son’s whereabouts are my business, kitten. I’m not asking the world of you to tell me where he is.”

“You’re right, you’re not asking the world of me,” I shrug, pushing my food around the bowl. 

Ransom relaxes in the recliner, a smile stretching across his face. He starts to speak.

“Exactly, I’m glad--”

“But I’m not obligated to answer any of your damn questions. So either tell me what you brought your sorry ass here for or leave.”

Ransom’s blue eyes blaze, anger crossing his features.

“You’re a piece of fucking work, you know that?” He bites back, leaning forward. “Get off your high horse, Amalia. You’re the one that fucked off to Albany without a word.”

“Oh, so you do wanna go there!” I exclaim, rounding the pass-through. “Then let’s fucking do it, Drysdale. I’ve been waiting for this conversation.”

He stands to his full height as I confront him. Ransom is heads above me with his six-foot frame, but that doesn’t intimate me in the slightest. I stand chest to chest with him-- well, chest to midsection-- and talk my shit.

“You were the one that couldn’t keep your dick in your pants to save your life! Two hours before our son was born, where were you?”

Ransom grits his teeth, looking to the side. His stance falters a bit. 

“Yeah, you didn’t think I knew that, did you? Tanya can’t keep her mouth closed for shit. If you gonna sleep around, at least find a bitch that doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Ransom at least has the sense to look guilty for one moment before he schools his features into an impassive glare. He crosses his arms, sneering down at me. 

“I didn’t take you for the sensitive type, Amalia. Mad ‘cause that pregnancy pussy wasn’t hitting like you thought it was?” He mocks.

I laugh incredulously. “You wanna make this about my body while I was carrying your child? You wanna act like you didn’t damn near bust a nut every time you looked at me let alone fucked me? Fine, then let’s talk about where you were one week after your son was born.”

“What the hell are you on about? I was in Boston that entire time.”

I scoff. “Ok. Bet.”

I walk away from him, swiftly moving to snatch my phone from my purse. I tap around for a few minutes before shoving the phone in his face.

“That’s not your ass on a beach in Florida then?”

The picture shows Ransom, clear as day, cuddled up with an overly tanned blonde in Tampa, Florida.

Caught, Ransom pushes the phone out of his face. He drags his hand over his mouth, pacing away from me. He crosses back toward the kitchen as I place my phone in my pocket, turning to him with crossed arms. 

“Cat got your tongue, bitch? Ain’t shit to say now, right?”

“Watch it, Amalia.” He snaps. “Who the hell sent you that?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re a liar.”

“Yeah, okay I’m a liar. And you’re a fucking runner. What a pair we make,” He says dryly. “But none of this will hold up in court. Especially not against the best lawyers money can buy.”

The implications of his words hang in the air. His words are like a cold bucket of water suddenly being dropped on my head. For a moment, my world freezes. Questions swirl around my brain, bouncing against every nook and cranny. 

Court? He wants to take this to court? Ransom wants to…what? Petition the courts for custody? Why now? Why is he doing this? What does he want with Shiloh?

 I feel my body go cold as numbness seeps into my bones. The air feels static, almost sharp. Like breathing in tiny bits of glass. Then all at once, everything inside of me becomes deathly calm. My eyes meet his, brown and blue clashing as I step toward him. 

“No, but you know what will hold up? Every sleepless fucking night I’ve had taking care of Shiloh. Every bill, every piece of clothing, and every bit of food I buy for that boy. Every moment I’ve spent with that baby since the second he was born will hold up in court.” I say, moving toward him. 

“And if you think I don’t got the receipts to prove it then you got another motherfucking thing coming.”

I stand directly in front of him, my voice lowering as I look up at him. 

“You wanna take this to court? Let’s. Fucking. Do it.”

Ransom stares down at me, his glare impassive. I steel my resolve, refusing to back down. His eyes search mine. I know he wants to call my bluff, but he can’t. Tucking his lips, Ransom finally looks away and sighs. He runs a hand over his face and then through his hair before pacing around the living room again. I wrap my arms around myself.

The coldness in my bones has settled, leaving me rattled and frozen in place. I stare at Ransom’s discarded glass on the counter. 

Half-empty. 

He paces silently. I stand there, continuing to stare into space. A heaviness settles around us as tension strangles the room. Then, Ransom sighs. A deep, heavy sigh laden with fatigue. He drops onto the recliner as if all the fight in him has vanished. He holds his head in his hands, breathing in deeply. 

He exhales and lifts his head to look at me. His elbows are propped on his knees, hands clasped in front of his mouth. The man from earlier returns. The pensive, tired man with creased eyebrows and the entire world on his shoulders. 

I swallow the pity I feel and give him a heated glare, daring him to break the silence. To piss me off further. 

Instead, his eyes swarm with tears. I watch as his face contorts, a broken sob escaping him. He covers his face with his hands, sobbing silently. 

I stand there watching him, frozen. Unsure of how to proceed. Ransom was never very forthcoming with his emotions. For once, I feel out of my depth with him. Do I comfort him? Or do I leave him alone to deal with his feelings? 

The bitch in me wants to tell him to clean himself up and get the fuck out. 

So, I shift awkwardly on my feet. I go back and forth for what seems like forever as he sits in front of me crying. I avoid looking at him, but the sound of his sobs isn’t exactly something I can ignore. I screw up when I take a glance at him, feeling immediately drawn in by the unabashed emotion on display. I feel myself giving in and wanting to succumb to the desire to console him. My resolve starts to crack and then…

Then, he looks up at me with pained, heavy eyes. My heart wrenches in my chest as he mumbles a garbled apology. I cross to him, sliding to the floor just as he crashes into my arms. The weight of his hug nearly knocks me over but I keep myself upright, holding him close to me. Ransom grips me tightly as I stroke his hair, whispering soft reassurances. He buries his face in my neck as apology after apology tumbles from his lips. 

“I’m sorry, Amalia. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Were he not sobbing his face off, I might feel vindicated. I deserve this apology after all, right? 

I gently shift his face from my neck, encouraging him to sit up on his own. I smile softly at him as he sniffs, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. I brush away a stray tear, stroking his face. He leans into my touch, giving me an all too familiar look. 

I clear my throat and pull my hand away, wiping it on my pant leg. 

“Ransom, what’s going on?” I ask quietly. “Why are you here?”

I steal a glance at him. He stares intently at me as if weighing his options. He licks his lips before releasing a heavy sigh. 

“Harlan is dead.”

The words come out quietly and quickly. They roll off his tongue as easily as a “hello” or “goodbye”. But these words cause my heart to drop and lead fills my chest. My vision blurs and suddenly I can’t see. I blink the tears away and shake my head, searching his face for a lie. He stares back solemnly, tears leaking from his eyes.

“He…no, that’s not possible! He was just…” I trail off. “No…”

He props his arm up on one knee, dragging his other hand over his face. His head lolls back, resting on the recliner. He sniffs, wiping at his nose. 

“He’s dead, Amalia. Died three days ago.”

My lungs feel as though they’re about to give out. 

“How?” I push out, struggling to keep my emotions at bay. “How did he--”

I cut myself off, pressing a hand to my mouth. Ransom’s mouth presses into a thin line. He hesitates before speaking again. 

“Heart complications.”

I release a heavy breath, my chest caving. My hand presses into my chest, trying o relieve the tightness that has accumulated. His words swirl in my mind as I try to comprehend them. Pressure rises in my head, and I think I’m sobbing but I can’t tell. My body feels foreign-- like it’s no longer mine. Like I’m floating above it. 

He was just here, my brain screams. He was fine. He told me he was fine!

I talked to Harlan all the time. After Shiloh was born, Harlan Thrombey was the only person from that damn family to reach out to me at all. He offered money and moral support. I told him I didn’t want a dime. After all, it was Ransom’s responsibility. Not his.

“I guess I have a habit of cleaning up that boy’s messes,” He had said to me. 

Still, the old man reached out weekly to update me on his health and to facetime with Shiloh. Now and then he still tried to send me cash, but I wouldn’t have it. His constant support meant more to me than his money. He stepped in when I felt like I had no one else in the world and, for that, I am eternally grateful. I had plans to surprise him with a visit next month so he could meet Shiloh in person.

But it’s too late now.

Suddenly, I slam back into my body and find myself wracked with sobs that echo off the walls. The tears tumble from my eyes of their own accord as I shrink into myself, curling into a fetal position. Ransom reaches for me, trying to comfort me. I thrash in his arms and push away from him. I don’t want his comfort. I don’t need it. 

But he won’t give up. Instead, he pulls me closer and cages me between his legs, one propped up with the other stretched out. I scream and I cry and I struggle in his arms. Still, he holds me tighter. Eventually, I tire myself out and slump against his chest. I listen to the familiar thrum of his heartbeat and, against my better judgment, start to relax. One of his hands rests gently but solidly on the back of my head while the other rubs my back. I grip his sweater, rubbing the fabric between my fingers. My sniffles fill the otherwise quiet space as everything suddenly comes to a standstill. 

The subtle rise and fall of his chest reminds me of a time before this. Before Shiloh. Before the arguments and the cheating. Before I ever knew who he truly was. My eyes burn again as a new wave of sadness rushes over me. But I stop myself short, refusing to give in to that pain. I buried it, and I can’t go back. 

There are more important things to deal with now. 

I sit up, untangling myself from Ransom. I feel his stare on me as I wipe my face and tuck my hair behind my ear. I cringe inwardly at how much of a mess I’ve probably made of myself. Self-consciously, I run my fingers through my hair and detangle some of the kinks. If this wig wasn’t laid as fuck, I’m sure it would be crooked and matted by now. I drop my hand to my lap with a sigh and bite my lip, searching for something to say. But for once, my words fail me. So, I settle for silence instead. 

But Ransom has other plans it seems. 

He reaches for the hand resting on my lap and holds it in his. He squeezes lightly and I look at him hesitantly. He smiles softly and releases a quiet breath. His thumb strokes the back of my hand as he looks away from me. He faces the direction of the large window behind the chair. The setting sun shines on his face, giving him a warm glow that highlights the green undertones in his eyes. 

He draws his bottom lip in, running his teeth over it before releasing it. He lets out a short breath and nods to himself slightly. His gaze returns to mine, determined. I frown, uncertain of him. I move to withdraw my hand but he rests his other hand on top of mine. He gazes at me imploringly and this sudden change unnerves me further.

“Ransom, what is it?”

“Kitten, I need you to listen carefully to me,” He starts, his voice low. “Promise you’ll hear me out?”

I remove my hand, choosing to stand. Ransom sighs and stands as well. I cross my arms, arching an eyebrow. 

“What is it,” I repeat. 

He rests his hands on his hips. His head tilts towards me a little as he frowns, his forehead creasing. Then, he crosses his arms and turns away from me for a moment. He faces the window, placing one hand over his mouth. I grow impatient and huff. 

“What the hell is it? What are you not saying!”

Ransom sighs and looks at me over his shoulder. He looks back out of the window before finally turning back to me. He lifts his hands, his palms out toward me. 

“Okay, okay. There’s…Harlan left a will,” He says.

I shake my head, shrugging. 

“Okay, and?”

A hand drops to his hip as he drags the other through his hair. 

“Look, my granddad was incredibly fond of you. He loved Shiloh,” Ransom rambles. “And…and so he wanted to take care of the two of you.”

“Yeah, and I told him that I never wanted his money. That Shiloh was your son and that I would be fine. Y’all know that. He knew that.”

Ransom laughs shortly, shrugging. “He was a stubborn bastard. We all knew that.”

I rub at my temples as the beginnings of a headache rise. 

“Get to the fucking point, please.”

“Fuck, okay. Listen,” He says, exasperated. 

He places his hands on my shoulders and levels me with a deep stare. 

“Amalia. Harlan…he left-- fuck.” He pauses, swallowing thickly. “He left half of his estate to you.”

Next Chapter: Bad Reputation

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Banners by: @maysdigitalarts

Title card by Me :)

Backup Blog: @thegirlonhamilton

Masterlist

[talesofstyles]

Reconcile II

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

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

Read part I here

Harry

“So… are we okay now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess,” she says glumly.

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

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

Just like that. Without a fight.

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

“How’s your mum?” 

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

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

“Can I ask you something, daddy?”

“Anything, poppet.”

“Do you still get sad too?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s gonna be okay, right, dad?”

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

“Yeah, Min. It’s gonna be okay.”

***

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

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

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

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

In hell.

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

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

And all hell breaks loose.

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s-”

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

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

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

“Cheap shot, Ems,” I retort.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, H?” 

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

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

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

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

“You chose to be there.”

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

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

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

“Harry, it’s too late.”

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

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

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

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

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

I nod.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

But I don’t.

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

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

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

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

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

“When really…”

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

“Emma…”

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

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

But where do we go from there?

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

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

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

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

***

Emma comes from a big family. 

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

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

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

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

I hear voices as we walk inside.

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“FREYA!” Her dad barks.

Meg can barely contain her giggles.

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

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

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

“Luce,” Emma mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The three of them nod in unison. 

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

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

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

Let’s just hope it stays that way.

***

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

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

Not yet. I need a moment.

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

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

“Harry?”

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

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“I should be the one apologising, Em.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Emma laughs under her breath.

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

“He is.”

“That got legs?” I ask her.

“Possibly.”

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

“Harry…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The awesome foursome, huh?” I ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t be sad, mummy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Emma

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Very well-endowed.”

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

Meg giggles and places her head on my shoulder. 

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

Both of them huddle into me like penguins. 

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

“Lovely. No.”

Lucy huffs. “You’re so boring.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything you might fancy or need?”

She’s walking an incredibly thin, thin line. 

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

“Seriously?” She says.

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

“Like mentally?” I ask.

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

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

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

“Show me your bush,” she orders.

“Lucy! I prepare food with those scissors.”

“And we’ll wash them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

I stand up reluctantly and unbutton my jeans.

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

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

“Do you want a shape?”

“What?”

“Yeah, like a heart? It’d be cute.”

“No!”

Meg roars with laughter.

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

“Do I have to?”

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

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

“Thanks, Luce.”

“You don’t say this enough I feel.”

“We really don’t,” says Meg.

“Want me to look at yours, Meg?”

“I’m good.”

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

“Like?”

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

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

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

“That’s what condoms are for?” 

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

“How do I initiate it?”

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

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

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

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

“You’re overthinking,” says Meg.

“I haven’t got any condoms.”

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

“Any other excuse?” Lucy asks.

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

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

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

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

“Crisps?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Shall we tidy up now?” He asks.

“It can wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

You know what, sod it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it your ex-husband?”

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

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

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

“I’m worried.”

“And what are you worried about?”

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

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

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

Harry

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

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

“Emma?”

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

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

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

She takes a step back instead.

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

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

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

“I don’t think I can.”

So I go to her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slowly, tentatively, her hand slides into mine. 

And we go in out of the rain.

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

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

“A while. I was walking… thinking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please spare me the details,” I beg.

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

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

“Oh, Ems…”

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

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

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

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

Her eyes follow my every move, looking at me.

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

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

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

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

“Yer a bloody ice cube!”

She laughs kind of evilly. 

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

“Talk to me,” she says softly.

“I’m taking time off work.”

“But you never take time off work?” 

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

I see her smile in the dim light.

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

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

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

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

“A puppy, huh?”

“A puppy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

“I… I’ve missed you. So much.”

And I’m done.

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

***

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

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

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

“You,” I smile. “You look perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I grin when I see red stain her cheeks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She moans softly in my ear.

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

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

“My face between your legs.”

***

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

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

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

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

“Penny for your thoughts.”

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

“You’re right,” she nods. “So…”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m serious.”

“You sound like Austen.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Not true-”

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

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

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

“Wanna dance?”

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

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

“Thought you hate dancing?” I smirk.

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

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

“Emma?”

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

“You don’t need an excuse.”

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

***

“What the-”

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

“Heard of a bedroom lock?” Lucy challenges.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eh, about time,” she replies nonchalantly.

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

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

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

“Duly noted.”

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

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

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

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

“Have you got your Aladdin?”

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

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

***

A month later…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, I say, “surprise!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Droolius Caesar?” I joke.

Emma laughs. “Jimmy Chew?”

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

“Sir Barks-a-Lot?”

“Deputy Dawg?”

“Bark Twain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

We laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She chuckles with a sly smile. “Possibly.”

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

“Oh, I will,” she teases.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You what?” My eyes widen.

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

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

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

“Then what changed?” Minnie asks.

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

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

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

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

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

They both nod in unison. Gary blinks twice.

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

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

***

Emma

“Gary! This way, Gary!”

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

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

“Hell, why not.”

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

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

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

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

I nod. “I do.”

“The view was decent,” he grins. 

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

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

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

We laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got Haribo in the car.”

He progresses to a light canter. 

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

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

A car flashes us. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, lovely. What’s his name?”

“Gary,” the kids say in unison.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give our regards to June,” I say.

“Will do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

“Are you calling my turkey dry?”

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

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

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

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

“A mince pie.”

“With cow mince?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s called Christmas milk.” 

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

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

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

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

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

It’s time.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” 

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

-

tag list: @gohometoacactus @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @kikisparadise18 @2am-2pm @rogersdirty-louse @harrys-cherriesss @icycoldbeanieweanies @niallbestie3 @peakascum @coucoukayy @awesomebooklover17 @sunflowerryvol6 @stylessugarhigh​ @umadirectioner​ ​

[gracetoldmeto]

🍋 Lemon Boy 🍋

Pairing: Mello | Mihael Keehl/Unnamed Female OC or Mello | Mihael Keehl/3rd POV fem!reader

Characters: Mello | Mihael Keehl, Matt | Mail Jeevas, Unnamed Female OC

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm and attempted suicide

Words: 7320

Summary: It’s a race against the clock for Mello to get home. They found him and she could be stuck in the resulting crossfire. Hopefully he can find a way out of this nightmare, or it will haunt him for the rest of his life.

Author’s Notes:  This was inspired by the title and some lyrics to “Lemon Boy” by  Cavetown. Also, the “…” denotes a flashback or a time skip and “they/them” italicized is in reference to Mello’s rival mafia group. I didn’t include many details since I deemed them unnecessary. Feel free to use your imagination, and all blocks of italics are during a flashback.

This is my first ever fic, I hope you enjoy (plz share if you do) cause I really liked writing it :)

Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“MELLO!” A strained voice, nearly out of breath, frantically yelled from the alleyway outside.

The blonde, who had been engrossed in polishing his gun, flung his head back in frustration and threw down the cloth he was using. He hated to be interrupted. He needed to stay focused, and he didn’t have time for interruptions. But just as he was about to open his mouth for a slicing retort, his widening eyes locked on Matt’s deeply rattled expression after the door was slammed open. “What’s going on?” Mello’s tone was stern but concerned and his shoulders tensed as he slowly stood up.

Matt gulped and ran gloved fingers through ruffled hair from the humidity, but quickly and commandingly answered. “You need to get home. Now.”

Mello, in hearing the redhead’s rare tone, instantly moved to act on his best friend’s words, but his squinting and slightly confused eyes prompted Matt to continue, to which only three words followed.

It only took a moment for him to process before his heart sunk into his stomach and his blue eyes grew ice cold. He ripped his leather jacket on, holstered his weapon, and fisted the keys to his bike, briefly glancing down as he tightly gripped one particular keychain on the carabiner. His heart was racing at a faster tempo than his feet carried him into the alley and “No…” was the only word repeating in his head.

“They found you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While running to their respective motor vehicles, Matt had filled him in on what little details he could. Mello was aware that a rival group had been on a manhunt for him since one of his first jobs went sideways, but that was years ago. Since then, he had been even more careful about the paper trail he left behind him. But it was still likely he had slipped up at some point. His sleep deprivation must’ve been beginning to add up. Damn it. This was all his fault, he thought. He would’ve continued to beat himself up about it, but he knew right now there was a larger issue at hand. He needed to get home to her.

…

“You are such a hypocrite, you know that?” she screamed at him.

Mello wanted to shout a response, but he only rolled his eyes and threw his keys into the bowl on the counter.

“You don’t get it. You are going to get yourself killed!”

“It’s fine. I’m alive now, aren’t I?” Mello retorted.

“Oh, don’t you dare play that game with me you son-of-a-bitch. Half of your old mafia buddies weren’t so lucky! What if I had to look into your lifeless eyes? What if you had to look into Matt’s?”

Mello rolled his eyes again and thought to himself, “I really can pick ‘em, can’t I?” but his thought was interrupted by a painful stinging smack across his face.

“Hey!” Mello was startled, “What the fuck was that for?”

She glared back at him beginning to ramble. She always did when she was anxious. “Don’t you dare go blaming this on me! I have been so worried…”

Mello had had enough of the talking. He cupped her jaw to guide his lips to hers and cut off her verbal spiral with a kiss. She stopped, dumbfounded. And when they parted, stared into his sincere eyes. Mello sighed and spoke soft and apologetically.

“To be honest…” he paused, trying to pry the words out, “I was terrified.” He looked down at his feet, “When my plan went south, I didn’t know if I was going to have another chance to do that,” he looked longingly at her pink parted lips, “ever again.” Her eyes softened a bit, but only slightly. Mello sighed. Hating the sincerity that he had unintentionally spoke into existence, he attempted to lighten the mood. “Well… now I know, when life gives you lemons…” he chuckled and leaned in to kiss her again.

She begrudgingly accepted and suppressed a giggle in response. “If anything, you’re the lemon here, Mr. Lemonhead. One moment you’re all bitter and pessimistic, and in the next you act like nothing has ever phased you in your life.”

“And that makes me a lemon?” Mello played along.

“Obviously, blondie!” motioning to his head as she tucked a lock of his golden hair behind his ear. She then paused with a pondering look. “Well, that and you always taste of the bittersweet cocoa from nibbling on bars of your dark chocolate all the damn time.”

Mello gazed up into her eyes. He firmly placed his hand on the nape of her neck and pulled her in, this time lingering for a deeper kiss. “Well, do you like how I taste?” He winked.

“You son-of-a-bitch” she teased, playfully punching his shoulder, and briefly kissing him back before whispering in his ear, “But yeah, I do. You’re my little lemon boy,” and pushing him away, clearly still a little upset from the earlier argument.

It was in that moment, seeing her walk away slightly defeated, that Mello swore he would protect them both. He knew they would come after him, but, as long as he was careful, he could keep them both safe. He could do it. He had to.

Months passed and Mello found himself finally returning home after weeks of being away. He couldn't stay in one spot for long or else they’d track him down. He hated being away from her, but it was the only way to keep her safe. As usual, it was late, about 4AM. Typical for the time he would usually return to the apartment. Mello walked up the frozen steps and quietly unlocked the deadbolted door, waving to Matt to thank him as he drove away. The 400 square foot studio apartment wasn’t much, but it was all they could afford, and yet, it was home. Their home, together.

He slid off and shook out his red jacket. It had been snowing on his way home. He hung it up on the wall and turned to toss his keys in the bowl on the counter, but something caught his eye in the moonlit room. There was something already in the bowl. He stepped closer to investigate. There he found a note.

"Happy Birthday, Mels! Here's a lemonhead for my lemon boy!" He furrowed his brows and looked at the calendar on the fridge. Right. It was his birthday. How typical it was of him to forget. How on earth did she always remember? He looked over to the bed in the corner of the room. She was sound asleep. Yet Mello got the feeling in his gut that she was somehow restless.

Mello turned back and picked the object out of the bowl. It was a keychain. The charm was cheap but sturdy, made of yellow plastic and small, about the size of a walnut shell. But it was in fact the shape of a lemon. He spun it around scrutinizing the charm in his fingers. A small caricature of a face revealed itself. It was a lemonhead. He smiled. Why was he smiling?

He paused, thinking. Maybe he was beginning to understand… and was possibly even happy being lemon boy… or rather… her lemon boy.

Mello slid the keychain onto his carabiner and threw the union of the two back into the bowl. The note, he posted on the fridge under a magnet before tiptoeing his way over to the bed. He slid under the heavy blankets and wrapped his arms around her.

Recognizing his touch in her sleep, she turned toward him with eyes clenched shut. Oh, how he wished she would open them. The moonlight always reflected off them with such beauty. She was sleeping, but uneasy. A nightmare, perhaps? No. Just anxious, he concluded, not that this realization made him feel any better about witnessing her distressed state. But all she did was cup a cold shaking hand on his cheek and nestle herself under his chin, her head on his heart. She was warm, but shivering. Mello held her tighter waiting and watching until her eyes relaxed, transforming her shallow gasps to deep breaths, and letting her body melt beside his.

Mello smiled and whispered into her hair, “Your lemon boy is home.”

…

The traffic was heavy, Mello thought. Or maybe that was how it normally was at this time of day in the city. But traffic always seems to be heavier when you have somewhere to be, and especially when it’s a race against the clock. He turned his head and confirmed that Matt was indeed driving behind him on the road in his red Camaro. But this traffic! He didn’t have time for this. “Fuck it!” he shouted, muffled by his helmet, and turned onto the shoulder of the highway before kicking up his legs up onto their pedals, his gloved hand throttling the accelerator as far as it would go.

The initial panic that had manifested in his chest passed which meant he was focused. He needed to get home as fast as he could and at any cost. He skillfully wound his bike between the moving cars, cutting off a few drivers in the process, and receiving multiple loud and aggressive honks in response. Usually, he would’ve flipped them off or at least responded with a dangerous glare in their direction, but that didn’t matter now. Not since she was in trouble. “Damn it!” he yelled once more. “I don’t have time for this!”

His method of navigation had left Matt miles behind him, but at least he would be able to make it home sooner. Mello tried to prevent his mind from wandering, but it was too gut-wrenchingly easy to imagine what they would do to her. Memories of that botched job from years ago began to crowd his imagination. His mind filled with the images of lifeless eyes of his past crew who had died at their hands. But as he accelerated around the last turn, he blinked and slightly shook his head as if to shake off the memory like a bug on his helmet visor. “Focus,” he assured himself. But that half-hearted attempt to calm himself was useless once the door to his… their home came into view.

The door! The door was left open. Not all the way, but enough to provide evidence that this was not just a nightmare. He was tired of suffering so many of those too, and though he never enjoyed them, this was the only moment he prayed that he was dreaming in one right now, because she would be there when he woke up.

…

Out of the darkness that was consuming him, Mello was suddenly pulled toward a light by the sound of a woman’s voice and a feeling of being abruptly and violently shaken.

“Mels, focus on my voice! You need to wake up! You need to breathe. Breathe, Mihael! Breathe!”

Mello shot out of bed faster than a bolt of lightning. He frantically stood up as if he was readying himself for a fight and looking around the room seemingly searching for the source of the disturbance. His center of balance low and his fists raised in preparation to defend himself at all costs. His adrenaline was pumping. His head was pounding. His pulse was sprinting. He struggled to breathe, and he couldn’t quite make out where he was. Where had they taken him? Or was he already dead. Was this hell?

“Mels! MELS, it’s me! Wake up! Please wake up!” The woman’s voice was shaken but determined. It nearly sounded like she was holding back tears, but Mello couldn’t discern for certain. “Mello! You are dreaming! You need to wake up! Everything is going to be okay!”

Mello blinked a few more times to slowly regain his bearings as he fully woke up and realized he was in no real danger. He hesitantly lowered his fists, relaxed his tightened muscles, and let out a gasp for air that he felt like he was holding for an eternity. He looked down to his feet standing barefoot on the chilly vinyl floor. The cold was comforting, something real, something he could feel. His tunnel vison was slowly fading. He looked up, locking eyes with hers.

She was sitting up on the bed on her heels with one arm outstretched toward him and one gripping the sheets to keep her balance. Concern was clearly written in the beautiful moonlit glint in her eyes. Mello thought he noticed a tear. It was unusual to see her cry in front of him, or anyone really. They both had that in common. As well as their stubborn disposition and volatile temper. Except she had a larger capacity for empathy. Why she put up with Mello, he would never logically understand fully. Maybe that’s why they were suited for one another. But his thoughts were soon whisked away as she leaped out of the bed and flung herself around him, consoling him in a warm embrace.

“It’s ok Mels, I’ve got you,” she quietly reassured him. Mello’s startled gaze, which was slowly softening, met her kind eyes as she gingerly brought her hand up and combed her fingers through the sweat beads on his knotted blond bangs, only stopping to cup his cheek in her hand. She stared warmly into his cool deep blue eyes, almost melting them. “My lemon boy,” she sweetly muttered as she smiled with beaming eyes. “There’s that sweet face!” she paused, “I hate to see you so bitter.”

Mello kept her gaze and responded with the smallest of smiles only noticeable by one raised corner of his lips. He saw a shimmer of moonlight on her lashes. It was a tear after all. Maybe that was why he was blinking back moisture as well. His eyes must really have been melting. She always was the only warmth that could do ever that. Her tears were rare, but he hated when she did let them out. She let out a sigh and lowered her forehead until it was resting on his shoulder. She was still trying to protect him.

Mello was still a little dazed and trying to catch his breath. Though he was not usually one for physical affection, part of him was always comforted by her warm and protective arms. This wasn’t the first time he was jarred awake from a panic-inducing nightmare, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Yet she was always there to help him out of it. Always. Part of Mello hoped she always would be. But for a man with a dangerous life like Mello, “always” wasn’t a privilege he could ever be sure to expect or promise to anyone else. So, he lay back down in bed with her and tried to focus on “the now” as she always told him. That was the only thing worth living in for the moment being. The future was always so uncertain. He hated that.

After getting settled back under the sheets, he turned to face her, reaching his arms out in a similar protective embrace, her back molded into his chest, holding onto her like his life depended on it. In a way it did. “Thank you,” he finally spoke.

She did not respond, but instead grabbed his forearm that was holding her, squeezed in acknowledgement, and pleasantly let out a sigh. Small wordless smiles could be seen on both their faces as her fingers reassuringly found Mello’s own, allowing them to both find enough comfort in each other’s touch to fall back asleep.

…

Mello hurriedly parked his bike and removed his black helmet revealing sweaty and matted hair. This was no nightmare. This was real life. As if to double check that fact one last time, Mello yanked off his gloves and felt the hot metal of his bike, palm down, burning him. That was real, painfully real.

He bolted up the stairs and sprinted apprehensively through the cracked door. The sight that awaited him should only have been seen in a nightmare. It was maybe even too gruesome for that either. But, like the bitingly cold vinyl, and burning hot metal. It was real.

Mello scanned every inch of the room. Furniture was tossed, glass was shattered, there were smoking holes in the walls, and the worst of it all was the blood on the floor. It was pooling and expanding at an alarming rate. And at the source was the worst nightmare Mello could ever have. She was near unconscious, leaning up against the bullet-ridden wall for support.

Time nearly stopped. But Mello pushed on. He had to save her. He had to save his “always.” This was the only chance he had, and it was fading as rapidly as the blood pool expanded. Everything felt to be happening in slow motion. While rushing over to her, Mello managed to dial 911 on his cell, mentioned an address, and then tossed the phone aside. He ran to her body, carefully supporting her head and lifting her up into his arms. She still had a pulse, but it was faint. Mello sat in the crimson pool and adjusted her head on his elbow as carefully as if he was holding an infant. Mello held onto her like her life depended on it.

The sudden adjustment of her body had woken her up. The pain and panic in her eyes was just as evident to Mello as the viscous pool of her blood he was now soaked in.

“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay. Just listen to my voice,” Mello said, attempting to be reassuring.

“Mels,” her weak voice struggled to squeeze out his name. “You’re here.” She smiled, her hand reaching out for him. Her fingers still traced the same path as always, delicately combing his sweaty bangs out of his face and then finally resting to cup his cheek. This time, Mello couldn’t help but melt into her hand and close his eyes.

“My lemon boy,” she breathily whispered. Mello opened his wet eyes as she shakily forced another smile. “Promise me you’ll stay my bittersweet lemon boy.” Mello couldn’t reply. He was trying so hard to choke back tears. “We’re gonna live forever, you and me, remember?” she took another labored breath. “But maybe just not right away,” she said, lowering her hand from his face and reaching for his rosary.

Mello helped her clasp the crucifix of the necklace in her hand as he leaned down to kiss her fingers. Her eyes were beginning to get cloudy. Mello hated that he knew what would come next, and what always happened next. But what he hated even more was that there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

Seemingly reading his mind, she dropped the rosary and returned her hand to its home on his cheek, her eyes looking deep into his teary icy blues. They were fully melting now, transforming from glaciers to a warm and salty sea. But Mello kept his eyes fixed on hers. Somehow some light had returned to them, though her consciousness was fading and the last of her sparkling soul was leaking out.

She inhaled, “When you dream, I want you to remember this,” her fingers resting on his face tapped his temple. “Remember us. But remember this was real. It may only become a memory, but it happened,” she paused. “We happened.” Mello saw moisture in her eyes. “And I wouldn’t trade one second of it.” She gasped, trying with great difficulty to take in a breath.

“Mels…” Slightly uncertain, but recognizing her limited time, she continued. “…I love you.”

Mello might as well have been one with that puddle of blood since he felt as such. His heart felt a suffocating pressure and piercing pain nothing could relieve. All he could do was hold her. So he did. Like his life depended on it. The tears were raining from his face now. Some droplets pattering into the puddle he sat in, and some baptized her cheek. But between muffled sobs and hitched breaths, he was somehow able to whimper his confession. “I love you too.”

Again, and without looking, his hand briefly grabbed the lemon keychain on his keys, before resting his hand on hers and leaning more into her touch on his face.

A tear swelled in her eye, threatening to drop. She smiled and took a labored breath before faintly uttering into Mello’s ear, “My little lemon boy…” And with that, the tear, which had stolen the last of the light from her eyes and her soul with it, fell. Just as the warmth of her hand fell from Mello’s cheek and she let out a long deflating exhale.

The world stopped. Who knows how much time had passed until Matt found them. Mello sure as hell didn’t.

Matt’s tires squealed and sirens blared outside seconds before he came running in alongside the paramedics, shoving them out of the way. He found Mello in a state he would never soon forget. Faintly crying and rocking her lifeless body, cursing his inability to protect her. And worst of all, staring into her eyes, devoid of all light, and praying that it was all a dream.

The passage of time in Mello’s mind for the next few hours seemed both instantaneous and stagnant at the same time. Impossibly slow but also over in a flash. Matt and Mello were ushered outside as the EMT’s did their jobs. Somehow, they made it to the coroner’s office. Mello couldn’t remember how. All he could see were her eyes. Or at least what was left of them in his memory. They talked to some people. Nurses? Doctors maybe? Who knows? Matt did all the talking while Mello was struggling to cling onto the reality that he no longer wished to be a part of.

Once they were finished, Mello wandered outside. Matt followed close behind. Giving him some space to do whatever he needed. They wandered to a park on the edge of the city. There was no one around, but Matt recognized it as where Mello had met her. Matt had never been here, but Mello talked about that day all the time in such surprising detail that he almost felt like he was there witnessing their beginnings with them.

A gust of wind blew into Mello’s face. Clouds had rolled in, so the temperature had dropped significantly, and the breeze felt nice on his skin. He stopped and closed his eyes. Focusing on the realness of the cool feeling. When the breeze died down a bit, he kept wandering.

Matt stood behind Mello, who had found a spot to sit on the curb of a walking trail and placed a hand on his shoulder. Mello shook it off without even so much as looking up at him. His gaze was miles long as he denied his grief. “This was always going to happen. She’s been dead since the beginning.”

“Mello…” Matt was about to go on.

“Shut it, Mail!”

Matt did as he was asked.

“She was dead the moment I met her. I knew that. But I was too naive to accept it. This is my penance.” He paused. “‘Always’? pfft… what a fucking joke of a word.”

Mello then frantically stood up. His center of balance low and his fists raised toward the empty air in front of him. “Please let this be a nightmare. Let me wake up! I want to wake up!” he screamed at the clouds in the sky. His melted eyes were leaking again. Those salty seas flowed into tiny capillary rivers down his cheeks where her hand used to touch him.

“Mello.” Matt grabbed his shoulder again.

Mello acknowledged him this time. But he turned on his heels and punched Matt square in the chest before taking off into an exasperated sprint down the trail. As he ran, he silently continued to cry, wiping the tears with the back of his hand to clear his blurred vision. He kept running. And running and running. Continuing to sprint even after his quivering gasps sounded like the last of hers.

Upon nearly passing out, he eventually approached a river. It was almost overflowing from the summer’s thunderstorms. Even now it looked as if it was about to rain soon. He slowed down as he neared the riverbank. The jarred jingle of his keys from his halt had caught his attention. He looked down to the carabiner on his belt loop.

Mello’s cracked and broken heart, failing to be held together, finally exploded into countless piercing shards of glass.

He ripped the carabiner off the leather belt loop of his pants, eyes piercing down at the lemon keychain. Frantically he removed it from the carabiner and brought his fist behind his head, preparing to launch it downstream. But before his arm could swing, Matt had tackled him.

“Mello, STOP!” Matt grabbed the wrist holding the keychain. “What are you doing?!”

“She’s gone, Matt! She’s dead. And she’s never coming back. And I never want to see her again. I want to forget she ever existed! I don’t want to see her eyes in my mind anymore. Take that memory away from me!” Mello screamed so loud his voice was beginning to crack. But maybe that was also because he was failing to hold back tears.

“I know. But why do you want to forget her so quickly?”

“Matt, you’re a smart bastard. Use that brain of yours. Figure it out on your own! Now let go of my hand, you asshole!”

Matt only gripped tighter.

“Mail! Let GO!”

“Mello…”

“Fuck off! Why can’t you go away and let me be?”

“Mels, there’s something you need to know.”

Mello briefly stopped resisting. “Yeah?!” he responded, antagonistically.

“Listen, you’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you.”

Mello snorted and replied in a sarcastic tone, “Oh no! Don’t ruin my day, it’s not like it hasn’t been unbearable enough!”

Matt let go of Mello’s wrist and just stared at him, a horrified face with the same expression, Mello noticed, as when he saw him earlier that day.

Mello, for what was probably the first and only time in his life, shut himself up.

��It isn’t your fault.” Mello was going to snort a reply but Matt continued, “Mels, it’s not your fault she was killed. It’s mine.”

Mello froze, expressionless.

“She wanted to surprise you…”

Mello’s face was heating up.

“…and she wanted my help,” Matt continued.

What was he saying?

“Look at the keychain.” He pointed toward Mello’s hand.

“Stop your fucking mind games, Matt, I don’t want to…”

“Damn it, Mels!!!” Matt yelled, “For once in your godforsaken life just listen to me. Look at her fucking keychain! Really look!”

Mello looked down at the keychain, eyes wide, scrutinizing it harder than on his birthday when he returned home. In the darkness in which he discovered the gift, he never noticed the seam in the plastic. He squeezed it and it popped open. Inside was another note, on the same paper from that day, wrapped around a lemon-yellow plastic ring, like one of those 25 cent ones from an arcade.

“Life is bitter, but you make it sweet. Mels, my bittersweet little lemon boy. Will you marry me?”

There was not a word that followed. Only silence. Mello collapsed to the ground. He couldn’t breathe initially, but once the trapped air found an opening from his lungs, the blood-curdling sob that ripped through his vocal cords scared all the pigeons in the area enough to immediately fly away. Matt ran over attempting to comfort his best friend but stopped in his tracks when Mello suddenly went silent,

“Matt.” He looked up at him. His glassy, tear-filled eyes were thin, piercing, accusing.

“Mels, you’re scaring me.”

Mello continued, still melted into the ground, “I think you ought to tell me…”

“What…?”

“You need to tell me what happened.” He paused. “You said this was your fault.”

Matt gulped.

Mello stood. “What did you mean?”

“Mels…”

Mello spat in his face, “WHAT DID YOU MEAN!” At this moment, in a spur of adrenaline and hopelessness, Mello remembered his gun holstered on his shoulder, and drew it. He immediately pointed it at Matt. “Tell me what happened. Now.” He mimicked Matt’s commanding tone from many hours earlier. It was time for Matt to get a taste of his own medicine.

“Mello, think about this. Put the gun down. Just put the gun down.”

“Do you think I have anything left to lose? Tell me what they did to her!”

Seeing no other option, and gutted that Mello no longer seemed to value his oldest friend, Matt inhaled and began. “As you saw, she had plans to propose to you. She’d been planning it for months. And she wanted my help.”

The expression of flaming jealousy on Mello’s face was evident.

“Oh, Mello… you know in your heart it’s not like that.” Matt tilted his head, spilling with disappointment. “I’ve known you since we both used to sneak out of Wammy’s House to steal from the candy shop down the street when we were 8. Do you remember that? Don’t tell me you’ve lost faith in me now.” Matt was almost in tears himself.

“You’re not finished. Keep explaining.” Mello took a step closer with his weapon.

Matt obliged. “After months of preparation at the apartment, we had a whole extravagant plan all set up for you.” He paused and looked down. “Mels, you would’ve loved it. But as usual for our unfortunate lives, things didn’t go according to plan. One of those days I met with her, I must’ve been followed… by them… because right before I ran to see you earlier today, I got a call from her. And I…” Matt’s voice dissolved. He couldn’t keep going.

“And you what? What did you hear?” Mello prodded him more, shaking the pistol at him. The tone in his voice was terrifyingly angry but his expression was utterly heartbroken.

Matt spoke though his tears. “I don’t know what they did to her, but part of me doesn’t want to. She was screaming. Crying. Calling out for you. Praying you would swoop in guns ablaze and save her. But then suddenly there was silence, and the line cut out. And all I could do was nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. That’s when I ran to get you.”

“Mello, I’m so sorry.” Matt was losing control, “This was… was all… all my fault.” Matt broke, crumbling to the ground under the realization that he had gotten her killed. And the worst part was that he might have lost his lifelong friend as well. “Mello, you know I’ve never been as diligent as you. Even back at Wammy’s that was the case. I fucked up, I know.”

Mello had a death threat written in his growing pitch-black pupils. He strutted closer to Matt and put the barrel of the gun right up to his forehead. “You. You got her killed. This is your penance.”

Matt looked up at Mello. “I did. I was the one who got her killed. And I will never forgive myself for that.”

Mello cocked the hammer of the weapon.

Matt’s mind had come to a surprising conclusion. That he deserved to die for his carelessness. He didn’t want to, but it was a sacrifice he would willing give to his best friend.

Mello put his finger on the trigger.

“Do it.” Matt whispered.

Mello hesitated.

Matt finally spoke what he had been thinking. “It’s okay, Mels. This is what I deserve.” Matt looked up at Mello and closed his wet and swollen eyes, accepting his fate.

Mello counted down in his head.

“3” Something about this felt wrong, but what else was he supposed to do?

“2” She was gone, this was the only way to put things right. Right?

“1” No. There was only one way to put things back to the way he wanted them to be...well, almost.

“0” Ok, now. Mello’s finger began to tighten around the trigger, but not before he pointed the barrel under his own chin.

“Mels, no!” Matt, in feeling the firearm move from his head, instinctually and in one swift motion stood and grabbed Mello’s arm at the wrist and yanked it away, angling the barrel forward and away from Mello’s head before he could realize, let alone react.

BANG!!!

Mello, with his eyes still closed, was stunned. Frozen. In shock. Still slightly dissociated from the pain of reality. He was still alive. Why? He was beyond confused. Everything had happened so fast. He had expected the be consumed by the darkness of his nightmares by now. Or at the very least be writhing in bloodied pain on the ground. But he was fine. Somehow, he was fine.

Slowly, he came back to his senses and opened his eyes. Mello saw Matt’s terrified face and realized what had happened. In an effort to save Mello from his impulsive decisions, as Matt did often, he had also saved his life. The barrel of the gun was angled up. Matt was hugging Mello’s forearm to his chest, pointing the barrel of the gun up into the air. Seeing that angle, Mello had realized that in firing the weapon the bullet had grazed Matt’s ear. Only an inch to the left and it would’ve taken his ear clean off. Three inches over and it would’ve killed him.

Matt knew logically his ear had been injured, but he was too preoccupied by the high of adrenaline to register any feeling, including pain. Or even to notice the ringing in his left ear. A few droplets of crimson dripped from his ear onto Mello's hand at a steady pace, resembling the accelerated rate of his short, shallow, and hyperventilating breaths. For the two of them, time froze.

Surprisingly, Mello was the first to break the silence. "It should've been me," he choked out.

Matt slowly massaged Mello's hand to loosen his grip on the handle.

"It was supposed to be me." His eyes sunk down, defeated. "Matty, it should've been me."

Matt interrupted, "But it wasn't." He gingerly removed the firearm from Mello's grasp.

"Huh?"

"It wasn't you. And regardless of who it should’ve been, you are the one standing here in front of me. You. Not her."

Mello sunk to the ground once again, but slowly this time as if not to disturb the ground below.

Matt kneeled to join him at his sunken level. He continued. "As much as we both didn’t, and don’t want to accept it, she's gone, and you are the one left to remember her. What do you think she would say about this insane, and frankly idiotic, plan of yours? Your initial intention to kill me? Or to kill yourself? How dare you! How dare you, Mels! She loved you more than you will ever understand, and this is how you treat her memory?"

"I do understand."

"No you don't. If you loved her the way she did to you, you wouldn't have forced yourself to make a reckless choice like that. Newsflash! It shouldn't have even been a decision that ever crossed your mind.”

Mello knew he had a point even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“Think about it. Shoot yourself? You would've left me all alone. Fine, but a real dick move, Mels.” He paused. “But now think about if you chose me. You would have to face the world on your own from here on out. A world where both she and I would be gone.” Matt took a breath to slow the pace of his words. “I hope you really understand that I love you too, Mels. Not in the way that she did, but goddamn it you are basically my brother.”

Mello could never remember having family, but maybe he could see Matt as his brother.

“Please just let me help you! You've always had the smartest and quickest mind, second only to Near, but I’m the one who figured out how to keep those gears up there oiled and turning." He gestured toward Mello's temple.

Mello was re-remembering all the occasions Matt had been there for him.

Every time he failed to score better than Near on an exam at Wammy's, Matt kept encouraging him to study harder.

After they ran away, every time he picked a fight in the underground too large for him to handle alone, Matt was always there to back him up.

And every time he couldn't comprehend his feelings, especially those for her, Matt would sit awake with him into the earliest hours of the morning and help him talk it out until he calmed down. Mello stopped. Did he take him for granted?

"I know you better than you know yourself. Maybe even better than she did. Though likely not by much." Matt half-heartily laughed but continued. "I’m aware I can't tell you what to do from here, you've never let anyone boss you around including me, I know. But now you need to make another choice." Matt outstretched both hands. One holding the gun, one holding the open keychain. "Decide. And by God, remember her when you do."

Mello eyed both his options but hesitated. Not because he needed more time to decide, but instead because he knew what he really wanted was not something Matt would take too well.

Matt forced the options closer to Mello. Matt could see those well-oiled gears turning at full speed.

Mello reconsidered. The keychain or the gun? Should he force himself to remember her or choose to forget? Should he choose to take Matt's hand and continue fighting, or end it all? Right here, right now. Living without her would be so hard, so painful. But would that be preferable to those memories of her ceasing to exist? The gears in his brain were turning so fast the friction was burning in his head.

"And Mello," his thought process was interrupted by Matt’s words, "if you choose what I know you want to, I will have no choice but to say goodbye and leave you here. For good. If you are that broken and helpless, there’s nothing I can do to help fix you. If you choose that gun, I know you don't even want to fix yourself.”

The gears somehow were turning faster. The heat was becoming unbearable.

Matt continued. “But don't you dare admit to me you are broken beyond repair. Is this how the one and only Mihael Keehl goes out? Not fighting the fight, but by his own hand? And out of what? Shame? Guilt? Pain? You were the unquenchable flame that all the oceans could never suffocate. The fighting spirit even the slimmest of odds couldn't deter. And the one friend I had that never once gave up, and by proxy helped me to do the same.”

Mello had never heard Matt speak to him like this before.

“Don't become a hypocrite to the lessons you taught me, instead let me teach you one in return. The Mello I knew wouldn't give up. He would never even consider it. But the question is, does he even exist anymore?"

Mello looked up to his best friend’s hopeful glare. The heat in his head was burning through to his eyes. He had decided.

Glancing between both of Matt’s outstretched hands, he stood up and took one.

Matt returned a faint and relieved smile and fisted the choice into Mello’s palm. Mello clung to it, crushingly, and squeezed his eyes shut.

He was hoping, and most importantly choosing, to remember her. Not the way the light left her eyes and the way her story ended, but the way the light in her eyes was always there until then. He would remember the whole story of them starting from the very beginning and in this very park. How poetic. Even then her eyes would beam at him every time she looked into his, and especially every time he came home late from a long stretch away from home.

The memory of her lively eyes coupled with the reflection of the moonlight that brought her beauty to a heart-stopping height was now his drug. It was his medicine to keep him fighting. To fight the pain he felt in experiencing those memories, but choosing to embrace them anyway.

Her words ran around his mind

"We’re gonna live forever, you and me, remember?"

Mello decided he wasn't ready to give up on that yet. He may not have been a man who could expect forever, but he could damn well fight for it. And he would. Until his very last moment.

Matt draped the arm of Mello's exhausted frame over his shoulders, careful not to touch his wounded ear. The two of them walked toward home, just as it began to rain, cleansing the way for a new beginning for them both.

…

Years later, as Mello sat in the driver’s seat of the semi and Kiyomi Takada was stuck suspiciously quiet in the trailer in the back, he watched consequences of their kidnapping plan unfold on the small monitor sitting on the dash.

The red Camaro came to a spinning and squealing halt on the highway, surrounded by Takada’s armed bodyguards. Matt exited the car. Mello couldn’t make out what Matt said once he put his hands up to surrender but he hoped it wasn’t something cocky again. But before he could even complete the thought, a shower of gunfire ripped through Matt’s body. And he fell. He was left bloody and mangled on the street. And that cigarette that always seemed to be in his mouth finally fell to the asphalt and went out.

He knew this plan was suicide, but somehow, they both had naively hoped for better.

"…Matt. I didn't think they'd kill you… I'm so sorry."

He continued driving, obsessively rubbing his thumb on the inside of his left ring finger.

His mind wandered slightly. With Matt now also gone, his thoughts also drifted to her.

"I wonder what you're doing right now," he murmured remembering and hoping that she'd still want a forever with him after everything he'd done. These thoughts continued to meander as his drove. But eventually they were abruptly interrupted.

*Thump THUMP*

Mello knew exactly what this meant. "A heart attack!? …Kira. But how?” Mello’s eyes once again grew wide, but he almost smiled this time.

"I guess I'll get to find out what you’re up to soon enough." He answered his own question from earlier. He struggled to remove his glove to expose the fingers on his left hand and then fully smiled

"I can't wait to see you again," he spoke sweetly to the ring on his finger, his eyes staying locked onto the plastic charm on its yellow band. He'd worn it ever since that day. And he wanted it to be the last thing his eyes ever saw.

As if in a morbid game of tag, the darkness Mello had been running from in his nightmares finally caught up and consumed him. He fell forward, unable to handle the wheel, crashing the semi into an abandoned church just off the side of the road. Though his body was going limp and muscles relaxed, he kept his gaze on the ring, hoping… no… praying he would get to see her eyes again.

The darkness had fully engulfed him now, but it wasn't as suffocating as he remembered in his dreams. Instead of cold restraint, it felt like a hot embrace, almost welcoming.

Maybe Mello was falling asleep. Or maybe he was waking up. Who knows. But either way one thing was for certain, her lemon boy was finally coming home… forever.

[waterlily707]

Updated Asks rules!!! Please Read!

HI HELLO :D

I’m doing pretty good for my first time! I’d like to thank all of you for your wonderful comments, asks, and words of encouragement! I’ve never had this much engagement or feedback on any of my art so this being my first ask blog and having it do this well is great! I’m happy it’s doing pretty fantastic and on a slow rise.

On another note please do not come here to further infantilize or fetisize these characters I explicitly state how I don’t do NSFW of these characters and how I am bettering myself when it comes to representing these characters within this au. 

                                                 ****RULES*****

- Please 1 or 2 questions at a time.

- Please feel free to make, create, you’re own art, head cannons, fics, art etc.

- Use the hashtags Clone moth au, or just moth au, and feel free to tag me if you’re comfortable enough! I’d love to see your creations and ideas!

- No NSFW in my asks please!

- No homophobic, transphobic, or hateful asks please!

- No racist or stereotypical asks when it comes to the clones please.

-Respect my stances on certain topics like the topic of Clonecest I don’t support so please don’t ask me to draw clonecest ships. 

-Ships that I do not support, so please don’t ask me about them. They will not be included in this au.

*Ahsoka x Rex

*Ahsoka x Anakin

*Omega x Hunter

*Ahsoka x anyone that’s older than her

*Barriss x anyone that’s older than her

*Anakin x Obiwan

*Obviously clonecest, or any incest ships

- If you want me to privately respond to your asks please ask non anonymously, as anon asks can only be responded to publicly. 

- The timeline is seasons 2-4 at the moment so please ask about characters accordingly. 

- Don’t worry in the near future I will do a small side ask blog about the bad batch. But in the meantime, please feel free to make up your own stories about them and their moth adventures :)

- You can ask not only about the clones but Jedi from the time period as well. 

- Similarly, you can also ask about villains/ sith from the time period.

- After about 20 asks I will close the Ask box to catch up, I will also post when the box will be closed, and when it’ll be open again.

- Please don’t bully anyone else for their head cannons, fics, or interpretations of this AU. 

(Even though I will ship Obitine in this AU, the Codywan people are still valid!)

- Don’t tell the clones about their impending doom please ;w; also don’t pull a dora the explorer on em and tell them key plot points and answers to questions they have about the plot/ arc.

- You can ask simple drawing requests like, “Oh can I see Hardcase doing the cupid shuffle” But keep in mind I’ll only do simple drawing requests and won’t do things like, OCs x clones, clonecest, Ships I don’t agree with, extreme gore, extreme violence, nudity, strong language, touchy subject matter, or homophobia/ transphobia. 

- Please try to refrain from baby talking them, talking in detail about physical traits in the context of simping, and overall try to be self aware about your asks as these are characters of color and actions no matter how small can be damaging in the end.

- live laugh love.

That’s pretty much it, again thank you for following the story and art of the moth au, this has been really fun and please stay mindful about what you ask and repub about! Thank you all!

[baku-bowl]

broke 1,000 followers (the fuck? I don't even make content people), so decided to write up a list of some (but not all, I'll make other lists later) of my favorite Bakugou-centric fic recs. my tastes run towards hurt/comfort, as you'll probably figure from the list. if there are some Baku-centric fics that you've enjoyed that aren't on here, please add them - this is definitely not a complete list of the ones I've read and love, but I'm always up for some recs. <3

fair warning, most of these are wips.

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

Social Media 101 by WindsChild8178

Part 1: Survival Guide to Fucking Up

[Solely Bakugou’s point of view]

Katsuki Bakugou doesn’t have a gentle bone in his body. He’s aggressive in everything he does and does everything with 100% of his heart in it. After the Sport’s Festival, Katsuki starts to get harassed by strangers for his unheroic demeanor. It starts with letters but it doesn’t end there. The moment Katsuki realizes the harassment has entered dangerous territory and he needs to tell someone, it’s already too late.

Part 2: Post Traumatic Life Disorder

[Point of View opens up to Bakugou, teachers and classmates]

When the Dorms are finally built, everyone is settling in well, but things become tense as people begin to realize something isn’t right with the recently rescued Bakugou.

[Cannon compliant right up to after the License Exam]

hands down my favorite fic in the fandom right now. it’s the one that converted me into a Bakugou lover. if you have any fondness for Bakugou as a character then it’s likely you’ve read this one already, but if not, I can’t recommend it enough. incredibly depressing, but with the hope that comfort is coming soon in the next few chapters.

The Kids Will Be Alright, Eventually by NotWithThatAttitude

Bakugou is spiraling in the aftermath of Kamino and his friends are starting to notice. He's stubborn, aggressively independent, and less than willing to dig into his past, but after a breakdown that ends with a painful secret revealed, he starts to get help.

Whether he likes it or not.

Meanwhile, a new kind of villain threatens an uneasy peace following the loss of Allmight. Whispers build as a new narrative slowly takes shape:

Hero society needs to change.

Feat. Therapy, Dadzawa, best boy Kirishima, dysfunctional families, healing, growing up, and the mortifying ordeal of being known

guys.. the medical accuracy of this fic is just... *chef’s kiss*

I rarely see mental health genuinely handled well in fics, but this one goes above and beyond. kudos to the author for doing such excellent research into psychology, and making the application of it in here not-boring. also, while this one does have abusive!Mitsuki, it’s done in a way that feels realistic, and how I usually will see it occur in real life, rather than just for the hurt/comfort feels.

fair warning, the fic can be incredibly triggering (themes of severe depression, PTSD, panic attacks, rape survival, abuse survival, suicidal ideation/attempted suicide, among other things), so be safe and heed the tw’s if you decide to read. legitimately one of my Top Favorite fics in this fandom.

Lock and Key by autochorystalize

Bakugou made a choked, gravelly noise before croaking out a low, “You can’t be serious.” His fingers ached to blow up everything in the room.

“I’m sorry, young man, but you can’t change reality! This sometimes happens.” Recovery Girl clicked through his file, adding a new symbol in a previously empty slot.

- - -

A pair of eyes discreetly locked on to an explosive blond plowing his way forward, parting people in his path. He recognized the kid, of course. Anyone in the underbelly of society would recognize him, after the publicity of both UA’s Sports Festival and the events leading up to All Might’s fall. The uniform he was wearing cast away any doubts about the young man’s identity.

It was a bit of a surprise that the little firecracker presented as an omega.

- - - - - - - - -

Or: there are certain types of evil that seemed too distant, archaic violations and perversions that would never actually threaten bright-eyed heroes-in-training in the clean, modern world...but sometimes those evils aren't as distant as one might think.

remember when I said that I love a/b/o fics that are full of plot and world-building and gender-induced tension? that’s this one. the OC’s are fabulous and you love to hate ‘em. also, it’s the fic that made me fall head-over-heels for the TodoBaku dynamic, so it’s got a special place in my cold, dead heart. 

be warned, there are rather explicit non-con scenes between an adult (OC) and a minor (Bakugou) in this one, but the author warns for them in advance, and you could likely skip those parts without missing too much if you need to.

Never and Always, Eventually by Wawa_Boonliang

"Katsuki can remember the exact moment that he and Deku…that he and Midoriya Izuku became friends. He can also remember the moment he and Izuku became fierce rivals, a time when they were almost enemies.

However, what he remembers most clearly about their relationship is the moment that they moved passed rivals and became something more close than mere friends. Something more like brotherhood, something forged in fire and secured in the middle of a battlefield or in the midst of natural disaster where the number of the dead was climbing ever higher. And then it was torn from him."

Katsuki is given a second chance. A chance to save everyone. A chance to change everything.

But should he?

y’all. I’m a slutty, slutty whore for time travel fics. a time travel fic with autistic!coded Bakugou? it was love at first read.

Lessons Learned by Sif (Rosae)

Rather than the police station, Katsuki's friends bring him to a hospital after rescuing him from the villains. His wounds were minor, but it didn't make having them treated any less important. As it would so happen, Best Jeanist was also brought to this hospital after the attack.

Sometimes, small choices have a big impact on how a story plays out.

classic Bakugou hurt/comfort. this fic opened me up to the potential that could be a genuinely good Best Jeanist & Katsuki mentor-mentee relationship, and I kind of dig it and search ravenously for it in other fics now. I’m also a huge fan of the behind-the-scences Pro Hero Chat group.

Slope by sunfleurmoon

“I’m not a hero. Or a good person,” Katsuki says, giving Aizawa a pointed look, “So leave me alone. I don’t care about the League or UA, or you—” The two years he’s been away have been fine, more than fine, fucking fantastic actually if you ignore the bi-monthly near-death experiences. He doesn’t need this place. He doesn’t miss this place.

And yet, longing, a childish desire to tear up, or maybe blow something to bits, they all twist in his chest like a band of traitors regardless. “—I just want to go home.”

Or: the one where Katsuki and Izuku fail the first term exam, Aizawa discovers their pasts, and Katsuki is booted from UA. Featuring questionable descriptions of villain organizations, a slightly illegal moving shop, and your favorite emotionally constipated badass in distress with a newly discovered penchant for collecting strays.

paaaaaaiiiiiiiin. the hurt is ALIVE in this one. lots of tortured, angsty exploding child goodness. the OC’s are excellently crafted, and the Bakugou & Eri relationship? beautiful. definitely deserves a read.

Ground Zero by WindsChild8178

In the wake of Kamino, Katsuki is tested more than anyone could imagine. Bound by a villain’s quirk to keep his silence or die, he lives each day knowing it might very well be his last. He continues to work towards becoming a hero, keeping his secret from his classmates and teachers, focusing on making it through each day and trying not to allow the panic or depression to get the best of him. When the villain finally corners him with demands in exchange for his life, there is really only one answer Katsuki Bakugou can give.

honestly don't know which I want updated more - social media 101 or ground zero. this author's fics are amazing, and I really wasn't expecting the twist in this one. can't wait for windschild to come back to this fic some day.

The Defect by LadyGreenFrisbee

"Why do you want to win the Sports Festival so badly?" 

Because I want to see if the defect could usurp the masterpiece.

(In which Endeavor holds a terrible secret and Bakugo has to suffer since childhood for it.)

a great concept, and I adore the shouto and Katsuki sibling interaction here. hoping the author will come back to this one some day.

A Name That You'll Remember by Heronfem

Kirishima Eijirou is a Hero. Bakugou Katsuki... is not. Trapped in his toxic workplace and increasingly desperate to get out, Red Riot's days are only brightened by a new villain known as Caution, who's not exactly villainous and keeps accidentally doing good deeds. But when a real villain appears, a threat from the past that demands that Red Riot make the ultimate sacrifice to keep the public safe, Bakugou is forced into saving the day... and eventually, Red Riot himself.

sob story good guy villains are my weakness, this fic is a gem, and I'd kill for the sequel.

Our Hero by AnonymousTwit

He felt everything jerk to the side and throw his balance off before he saw anything, dust clouding his vision and irritating his lungs as the earth itself opened up to swallow them whole. For a single moment, in a millisecond's time, his wild eyes locked with Raccoon Eyes', hers alight with fear and adrenaline-fueled desperation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that it was the first time she'd looked at him with something other than long-deserved hatred in days.

And then he was free falling.

Or

After a particularly nasty encounter between childhood friends, the class learns about Bakugou and Midoriya's dark history and practically ostracizes Bakugou while trying to defend Midoriya. An earthquake during an outing has all sides regretting their decisions.

just fucking tear apart my self-sacrificing faves in every way imaginable while their loved ones watch on in terror. 💖🥰💖 this one is heavy on the Bakusquad and Class-1A feels, and VERY heavy on the Mina & Bakugou relationship (platonic).

Running back the tape, watching it replay by Faralyne

For someone ripped from their time, ripped from the few but strong relationships built by time and personal development, by self-reflection and swallowed pride, ripped from the one thing that made him feel worthwhile and needed and put-together, and forced to forge everything over again—Katsuki thinks he is handling it pretty fucking well.

Or

A villain’s quirk sends a 29-year-old Bakugou back in time to his middle school days.

am I a sucker for time travel? yes. am I a sucker for vigilante!bakugou? also yes. am I a sucker for this fic? literally refreshing the page in wait for an update as we speak.

Liability by sandelf

After All-Might dies rescuing Bakugou from the League, Bakugou is determined to prove it wasn't for nothing.

But the world is against him, his grief is overwhelming, and his stability is splitting at the edges.

very self-indulgent bakugou angst. tw for harassment, severe depression, and suicidality.

Special Mentions:

How To Win The Sport Festival: A Step By Step Guide by mhwright

Short re-imagining of the Sports Festival Arc if Shinso had planned a little better and worked a little harder to win the Sports Festival and if the match-ups had been slightly different. Self-indulgent fic of watching him succeed.

this is completely Shinsou-centric, not Bakugou-centric, but I love and adore it and am dying for a sequel. Shinsou is Best Boy here and you'll be rooting for him the whole time.

[wpdarlingpan]

I have a suggestion! What about pan or jerome valeska kiddnaping the reader/oc? Ik its pretty basic, but maybe pan kidnapps her to obress Emma and Jerome kiddnapps her because he is fond of her appearance yk? Maybe a little bit yandere style.

Thank u I hope you like my suggestions!

Thanks for my first suggestion! I hope it’s good :)

Please let me know if there is something I should fix for later suggestions. Be it my writing style, or if you’d prefer me to make an OC for the story.

Also TW with just a mention of how Greenwood is charged with Rape and Murder. It’s only the mention and will not be brought up further.

Now on with the story.

Background information: Y/N is the daughter of Jim Gordon and Barbara. She isn’t associated with Barbra since she went slightly crazy. She considers Lee like her mom. Her dad is very over protective since he’s seen the dark side of Gotham. She is 18 years old and somewhat shy/innocent from being protected by her dad.

“Bye dad! Love you!” Y/N yelled out as she approached the front door of their apartment. She was hoping to leave before her dad could give her the talk she always got before leaving the house but luck wasn’t on her side. She also felt the teeniest bit of guilt for rushing out so quickly as she and her dad had a good relationship and she knew he was just trying to protect her.

“Wait.” He spoke coming down the hallway into the room. He knew she didn’t like the fact she had to go over rules before she left the house but he’d been even more nervous since there was a breakout at Arkham.

“Yes?” Y/N questioned.

“Got your phone?”

“Yep.”

“Charged?”

“100%.”

“House key?”

“Definitely.”

“Emergency money?”

“Right in my pocket.”

“Pepper spray?”

“Yep and with the safety on so I don’t accidentally spray myself... again.” She spoke while looking down sheepishly.

“All right love you kiddo. Remember what I said about those people who broke out yesterday.”

Jim spoke while lightly kissing the side of her head and let her go to school.

“I remember. Also love you Always and forever dad. Don’t forget you have a date with Lee later!” Y/N reminded before closing the door to make her way to the Gotham High school. Her dad had bought her a car so she would be more safe getting to and from school as he didn’t trust city busses or taxis. She didn’t mind though it was nice and she was able to play some music while she drove.

Once she arrived at the school she saw the cheerleaders loading onto the bus. She was a photographer for the yearbook and it was one of their first football games for the year so they send her to photograph for the team. She was way to shy to actually try out for it. Once double checking if her car was locked she put the keys in her pocket and made her way to the bus with her camera looped around her neck.

She got on first as the rest of the cheerleads were talking outside the bus with the coach. Y/N sat in the very back with her feet up next to her as a sign of ‘do not sit by me’ she was rather short so it was comfortable as well. She then pulled out her phone and began to text her dad that she was safely on the bus. He replied with a quick ‘ok’ and ‘be safe’ then she started to play a game on her phone as the cheerleaders began to load onto the bus. Once everyone was on the bus they drove away from the school at the cheerleaders were practice their cheers. The. Whole. Ride. It was beginning to get on her nerves as she preferred the peace and quiet but she knew that being on a bus with cheerleaders would be anything but. She grabbed one side of her headphones and began to play music. She lightly tapped her fingers to it and looked out the window.

They drove for about 20 more mins before they were stopped. A red truck had pulled in front of them and people approached the truck. She spotted guns in their hands. She quickly dialed her dads phone and begged for him to pick up.

“Y/N? What is it?” He could tell by her erratic breathing that something was wrong.

“There are people with guns on the bus! They just shot the driver. We are on (random Gotham street) please hurry!”

“I’m on my way! Try and stay on the line.” She said a quiet okay she a boy with red hair entered the bus. Jim quickly ordered police officers to make their way towards the scene.

“I want you all to know... this was a very difficult decision for us.” The boy spoke as he waved around his guns as if it was a toy. Y/N had already ducked down in her seat after a different person had handcuffed them to the seats. She wanted to stay out of of the seemingly ringleaders point of view as she watching her phone continue to hold the call with her dad and her headphone was in on low in order for him not to hear the phone. She still listened from her other ear to be aware.

“It was between you and a senior citizen bingo party.

In the end, we decided to skew a little younger.” He spoke while putting the gun to one of the girls heads. He walked towards the back of the bus as he continued his speech. She heard him coming and quickly tucked her phone into her pocket along with the headphones.

“Youth won the day. Sorry.”

He had reached the back to the bus and was about to turn around when he saw her tucked into the seat. She was very small and if he didn’t know this was a high school bus he would have thought she was a kid. She looked up at him with terrified doe eyes and he looked at her with a smile. He liked her. The innocence in her eyes that made him swoon. She clearly wasn’t like his whore of a mother. She would make a good partner.

“And who might you be.” He spoke while he used his charm. He lifted her chin up lightly with his unoccupied hand as the gun still rested in the other. She scooted as far away as she could with the handcuffs keeping her in place.

“Y-Y/N.” She stuttered out in fear. She was trying to hide not stand out. He moved her hand away from the start of the handcuffs and brought up his gun to which she began squirming at as it was raised.

“Shh, just going to get these off.” He attempted to comfort but it was honestly more frighting what was he going to do.

He shot the handcuffs and the bullet got lodged into the seat as she was detached from the seat but still had the cuffs around her wrist.

“You’ll be coming with me Doll.” He spoke while tugging her up from the seat as the cheerleaders continued to cry at the situation.

“No!” She attempted to struggle but she was too small to get away. But he held onto her. He tugged her out of the bus before giving her to Aaron. Since he didn’t trust Greenwood with his girl. Not like he trusted Aaron any more but he wasn’t charged for rape.

Aaron obeyed and tightly held her as Jerome put back on his crazy face and went back onto the bus.

“Give me an "O"!” He shouted to make fun of them.

“I said, give me a "O".” He shot the roof of the bus making the cry harder.

“O!” The cried out through their tears.

“ Give me an "N".” He spoke again with enthusiasm

“N!”

“Give me another "O"!”

“O!”

“What does that spell?” He questioned while greenwood handed him a hose that would spray gasoline out from the truck they had stolen.

"Oh, no!"

He walked up and down the isles of the bus and sprayed each and everyone one of them with gasoline while they all screamed in fear.

He finished and walked out of the bus and grabbed a lighter from his pocket.

“Ready? Okay!” Jerome said as he attempted to make the lighter work. The flame wouldn’t appear and Y/N continued to struggle in Aaron’s arms but for the man it was nothing. Dobkins was bouncing in his place with anticipation.

But it never lit.

“This is so embarrassing.” Jerome spoke harshly. He was making a fool out of himself in front of his girl.

“Anyone got a light?” He requested from the group of cheerleaders. Y/N was questioning if he really expected them to give him one since he was trying to kill them. He walked off after they all cried out a ‘No’ and winked at Y/N as she looked at him making her glance away hoping for her dad to hurry.

“I do. I got...” Dobkins replied while reaching into his own pocket to grab a lighter.

As Dobkins went to hand Jerome the lighter sirens sounded and police pulled onto the scene. She began struggling more as Aaron held her with one hand and shot with the other with little to no aim.

She saw as her dad got out of the car and quickly held up his gun. His heart stopped as he saw his daughter in the hands of one of the Maniax.

“Stand your ground, boys. They can't shoot at a bus.” Jerome smugly told the crew. He glanced at his doll to see her struggling still while eyeing one of the officers.

“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Jim quickly yelled in fear one something hitting his daughter or the bus.

“Dad!” She yelled out as she attempted to kick Aaron but did little to no damage.

Jeromes eyes widened with surprise. Jim Gordon had a daughter? This would be two birds with one stone. He smirked as Jim looked panicked.

“Aaron, Greenwood, get the truck started. And pass me my girl.” Jerome demanded. Y/N was shoved towards Jerome who caught her with a arm wrapped around her waist. He spotted her phone in her pocket and tossed it onto the pavement so they couldn’t be tracked nor could she call.

The officers had ducked behind their cars as Jerome shot at them.

“We're gonna blow this barbecue stand, huh Doll?” He told her as he tugged her towards the truck as her dad tried to follow before he was shot at again.

Greenwood sat on the outside holding onto the bus with the hose.

“Light 'em up!” Jerome spoke as he turned around and made a round motion with his arm to Dobkins who struggled with a lighter as well.

Jerome laughed manically as he got into the truck with her on his lap to which she blushed making him smirk and they began to drive off leaving Dobkins with the police.

Soon they were out of view and Jim quickly drove the bus away from the flames that had fought when the lighter was dropped. He needed to get his daughter back.

Y/N had a blind fold put on her as they left the scene to head back to Galivants building. Once they arrived Jerome picked her up bridal style and carried her into the building. He was stopped by the man himself as he headed to his room.

“And whose this?” He questioned quite poshly. She couldn’t recognize the voice but it seemed familiar.

“My girl.” He replied looking Galivant in the eye with a murderous look, daring him to say she couldn’t stay.

“Fine. But she stays in your room. Wouldn’t suggest having her out here with Greenwood.” He spoke before walking away to his office. Jerome laughed at even the thought of letting Greenwood anywhere near her. He brought her into his room and sat her on the bed. He quickly locked the door with a key to which he placed in his pocket before removing the blindfold.

Y/N blinked to adjust to the light and when she did she quickly scrambled back on the bed, away from the boy in front of her.

“Oh Y/N your never getting away from me. Not now, not ever.” He spoke before laughing crazily making her whimper and her eyes water. She curled up in a ball in an attempt to shield herself away from the boy.

“Well Doll, welcome to your new home. By the way, the names Jerome. Jerome Valeska.”

Y/N began to shake, her dad had told her about his interview. She should have for the hint from the fact of his unsettling laughter.

She was utterly screwed.

Let me know if you’d like a quick part 2

Also, please suggest things to write 😁

[blackandgoldandeverythingnice]

i don’t remember me (before you) - j. debrusk [part ii]

Pairing: Jake DeBrusk x female!OC

Summary: Could it be more cliche than falling in love with your neighbor when she wasn’t exactly available? What happens when getting her to fall in love with you isn’t even the hard part?

Word Count: 9,077

A/N: so, part ii - maybe one day i’ll get good at summaries and update them accordingly but honestly, no promises. this one has a LOT of warnings and i’ll adore any and all feedback. 

Warnings: adult themes, alcohol consumption, abuse [very much the abuse in this part so please be warned], shitty boyfriend/ex-boyfriend, swearing...I think that’s it

part ii

“I have travelled many miles, I don't wanna walk no more Every road and every highway led me right back to your door” -lord huron

Jake was pretty sure he’d never seen Alina nervous before. Normally she was the quintessential Russian: serious, blank face that belied nothing about how she was feeling. But right now she was tapping her foot nervously and gnawing on her bottom lip. Her hair was up in a little half ponytail thing and he forgot he usually only saw her in scrubs, his sweats or a mini dress for a night out. This version of Alina was softer, not as sexy as ‘club Alina’ but he thought he might like it better. She had on a pair of ripped jeans with a loose cardigan buttoned up, cutting in a low v on her chest. They didn’t speak much in the car ride over but Jake kept a hand on her knee, rubbing at the bare skin he could get to.

When she’d showed up at his apartment after getting ready, she shoved a bottle of wine into his hand and anxiously asked if he thought it would be good enough. Jake had managed to make her laugh when he’d snorted at her, asking how it was she thought he would know what wine was good or not.

That same bottle was now being grasped tightly in one hand, her other squeezing at his thigh tightly.

“Ease up, Leenie – you’re gonna leave a mark.” He teased, tapping her hand softly.

“Oh! Sorry, Jed.” But she didn’t loosen her grip much and he just let her keep clinging to him. He realized while she was usually a blank face to everyone around her, lately – more often than not – she was completely and purely herself around him. It’s like a wall that had been blocking back emotions before had come down and now everything she thought played clearly on her face for him to see. But only for him.

It wasn’t a long ride to get to Charlie’s and when they pulled up, Jake went to climb out of the car but realized that Alina was still sitting quietly in the back seat.

“Maybe you should just go without me. I can have him take me back home.” She nodded at the driver who was frowning and looked like he was a minute away from yelling at them to get in or out.

“Nope.” Jake responded, reaching into the car and physically dragging her out. She stumbled slightly as she hit the curb and he managed to shut the door to the car mere seconds before the driver pulled away.

“Jake…” she practically whined. “They don’t like me. I should just go, you’ll have a better time without me.”

“Leenie, if you don’t go, I’m sure as hell not going. I spend all my time with these idiots, I want to be wherever you are.” The hesitance remained on her face and he stepped closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “If you really don’t want to go, we’ll go home. Or out to dinner. Whatever you want. Ride or die.”

That earned him a giggle. “Ride or die?”  

“I’m your ride or die, whatever you want, we’ll do.” He nodded seriously until she finally gave him a smile, her facing turning determined.

“Okay. We’ll go. But if they’re not nice to you, I’m gonna let ‘em have it.” 

“I expect nothing less.” He teased, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. Forehead kisses had become more and more frequent. As had holding hands, cuddling and the way Alina would nudge her nose into his neck, brushing her lashes against his skin. At this point, they were more affectionate than he’d been with any previous girlfriend.

It still wasn’t enough but he instinctively knew he needed to go slow, knew that he couldn’t risk pushing her into something she wasn’t ready for. Shit, he wasn’t even sure if she felt the same as he did. All he had was a ‘feeling’ that things between them were different, that they were out of the sure footing that had been their friendship and in some weird limbo zone where they were both trying to figure out what the other wanted.

Sighing to himself, he took her free hand and pulled her towards Charlie’s building. He had forgotten to ask exactly who was going to be there and now that they were in the elevator, he felt a little panicky about what they were walking into.

While he’d deny it to her, he knew Alina wasn’t his friends’ favorite. And her desire to protect him meant she overreacted to the smallest chirp that was thrown his way even when it didn’t bother him. He only hoped that tonight would go okay.

Walking into Charlie’s apartment, Jake immediately felt like this was the wrong decision. There were at least eight couples and some of the girls were looking at Alina critically, from the bottle of wine in her hand to the way she was clinging onto Jake. Looking friendly wasn’t something Alina excelled at so the stoic look that Jake knew came from a place of nervousness or shyness, instead made her look like a mega bitch.

He squeezed her hand gently and turned his face into her ear. “Smile, babe. You look entirely too Russian right now.”

Alina snorted, squeezing his hand back and relaxing slightly, smiling at him. “It’s just my face, I can’t help it.”

Jake rolled his eyes, dropping her hand and placing it on her lower back to lead her through the room. He wanted to find Charlie and, more importantly, Charlie’s girlfriend. Kiley was one of the sweetest girls he knew and had always been kind to Alina, usually the only one she’d talk to while waiting for him after games.

Walking into the kitchen, he found the hosts putting the finishing touch on plates of charcuterie. And really, that just meant they were unwrapping the clearly pre-made platters.

“So much for doing the heavy lifting,” Jake teased, bundling Kiley up into a big hug. Charlie hit him but stepped around him to pull Alina into a hug. Jake noticed her stiffen slightly but return the hug before pulling away quickly.

“Ki – you remember Alina.” Jake gestured, returning to her side and throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“Of course! Welcome.” She pulled her into a hug before accepting the offered bottle of wine. “Oh wow, this is really nice – you shouldn’t have.”

Alina flushed slightly, waving a hand dismissively. “It was always one of my favorites so I thought I’d share.”

“Well thank you.” Kiley said sincerely and Jake couldn’t help smiling at her. Charlie really had found a good one. “I say we open this in here and just save it for the two of us.”

“Great idea.” She grinned back conspiratorially. “Can I help with anything?”

“Grab a few glasses, yeah? And are you any good at opening wine?”

“Am I ever!” she responded, grabbing a wine key and getting to work on the wine she’d brought. “I used to work in my Dedushka’s restaurant, if you fucked up the bottle, you had to pay for it but you also got to drink it.”

Kiley grinned at the story, taking it at face value but Jake’s head shot up at the sound of her talking about being younger. He’d never once heard her mention anything about working in a restaurant.

“What’s a ‘dad-kush-kah’?” Charlie asked earning a little smile from Alina who promptly corrected his pronunciation.

“Grandfather.” She got a little faraway look in her eyes but quickly returned to the task at hand.

“Come on, man – come say hi to the rest of the guys.” Charlie tried to shove him back in the direction of the living room but he dug his heels in, twirling around to escape and slide next to Alina.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning down so only she could hear him. “You okay? I can stay with you.”

It looked like she was thinking about it, her gray eyes searching his before she shook her head slightly. “Go on, I’m good – I’ll be a wine opening maniac.”

Instinctively, he pressed a kiss to her temple and ignored the look that Charlie and Kiley exchanged before following Chuck into the living room. He greeted his teammates and their significant others, smiling good-naturedly as the boys all yelled his name or teased him about one thing or another. He was just happy that Alina didn’t hear them or she’d end up lighting them up in his defense.

He managed to stay in the room for all of fourteen minutes before drifting back into the kitchen. Despite Charlie saying it was going to be just couples, a few of the girlfriends had brought friends and he got the distinct feeling Charlie Coyle’s girlfriend was trying to set him up with one of them. He walked back into the kitchen to find Alina perched on the counter, chatting animatedly with Kiley. He paused in the doorway to watch her as she gestured dramatically with one hand, large glass of wine in the other, only pausing her story to take a long sip and accept a piece of cheese that Ki had handed her. The sweater she had on had slipped off one shoulder and he eyed the bare skin greedily, aching to touch her.

It was a relief to see her getting along with at least one of the girls, a light floaty feeling filled him at the sight. Baby steps, he told himself, baby steps.

Eventually, he couldn’t resist interrupting, moving towards Alina and fitting himself between her legs. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her head on the top of his while continuing to talk to Kiley.

“But yeah, I’m super lucky the other nurses are so experienced and are actually super sweet. Have you been doing nights or days?”

The two girls continued the conversation around him like he hadn’t even joined and he contented himself with sharing Alina’s glass of wine and helping himself to one of the smaller trays that hadn’t been circulated out into the living room yet. They spent the better part of an hour in there, switching to a different bottle when Alina’s fancy one had been finished.

“If you’re not gonna get your own glass, you have to be the refill bitch.”  She muttered in his ear, pressing an errant kiss to the side of his head before refocusing on whatever Kiley was saying to her.

He pushed back from the counter to refill from a new bottle, pouring it nearly to the brim before returning to his position. A couple other girls had wandered in to join them and Jake felt Alina stiffen slightly as the kitchen got more crowded.

“Ohh, boujee! Who brought this?” one of the girls cooed, picking up the now empty bottle that Alina had brought. “This is like 200 bucks.”

Surprised, he turned to catch Alina’s eye but she avoided his stare, cheeks flushing at the attention.

“JD’s gir – uh, neighbor brought it.” Kiley answered. Half a dozen people turned to look at Alina who just waved awkwardly and tightened her grip on him.

“That was – ” one of the girls who Jake was pretty sure was a friend of a friend paused to eye the way Alina and Jake were tangled together before continuing, “Generous of you, Jake.”

He knew what she was doing. It was something all the guys had to deal with: girls that wanted to be with a player because of the money. And if a girl was like that she usually assumed all the others were. Jake flushed with anger, opening his mouth to respond but Alina beat him to it.

“Actually, I bought it myself.” She answered stiffly, tugging the glass from Jake’s hand to take a sip.

The kitchen felt ice cold and tense, nothing like it had been when it had just been Kiley and Alina chatting. Thankfully, Chuck and Gryz came flying into the room shouting about everyone going into the living room. The girls that had just come in exchanged looks before turning to go while Alina stayed put. Kiley shot the two of them a concerned look but grabbed a few things to bring into the living room, leaving them alone.

He turned around so he could face her, placing a hand on either side of her body and leaning his forehead against hers. “Leen, ignore them.”

“I told you your friends hated me.” She mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Those are absolutely not my friends.” He nudged her nose with his. “Do you wanna go? I told you, the second you want to leave, we can.”

She was quiet for a second, fingers trailing along the sliver of skin between his shirt collar and hair. He practically melted into her at the sensation. “No, no – I need to be nicer. I do want your friends to like me…”

“How bout this: we spend another hour or so here, drink a bit more fancy wine and eat some cheese then we’ll go out to dinner – just you and me.”

That earned him a smile and her eyes brightened for the first time that night. “You’d do that for me?”

He sighed, feeling the wine loosen his tongue slightly. “Leenie, when’re you gonna learn I’d do anything for you?”

“I don’t deserve you, Jed.” She mumbled, staring straight at him, her eyes serious and intense.

“We’re not gonna do our little argument about who deserves who.” He teased but she stayed serious, eyes dropping slightly to his lips.

“Jake, I – ” he wasn’t sure what she was going to say, he wasn’t sure if she even knew because she cut herself off. 

Instead, she leaned forward and pressed her lips gently to his. It caught him so off-guard he hesitated for a second but thankfully his instinct kicked in before she could pull back in embarrassment and he caught the back of back of her head, pulling her in closer.

It was like everything he’d been dreaming about but better. Alina tasted sweet like honey, her mouth hot on his as she wrapped her arms around him tightly. He wound the hand not buried in her hair around her waist, tucking up under her sweater to press his palm against her skin.

Reluctantly, she pulled back, staring at him seriously. “I’m sorry.”

“Why the fuck are you sorry, Leen? Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

She giggled, sliding off the counter and burying her face into his chest before turning up to look at him. “You still wanna stay?” she teased, eyes sparkling.

“Fuck,” he grumbled into the top of her head. “I really really don’t but we should.”

Just as he was leaning down to steal another kiss, Charlie bounced back into the room. “Heyo, what’re you two doing? Come have some more wine before we have to switch to the boxed stuff.”

He stared at the two of them, tangled around each other and faces flushed but that didn’t stop him from continuing to egg them on about moving into the living room with the rest of the party.

“Alright, alright – we’re coming!” he yelled over his shoulder finally, shooting him a dirty look for interrupting. He turned back to face Alina, resting his head against hers. “Maybe we’ll stay for like twenty minutes?”

Smirking, she stood on tiptoe to press the lightest kiss to his lips before moving around him to go into the living room. He scurried behind her to follow, catching up easily. He wrapped his arm around her waist, feeling her relax at his touch. The move wasn’t lost on nearly everyone in the room. While officially Alina had been introduced as his neighbor, he was pretty sure a blind person could see the way he was touching her and staring at her and refusing to be farther than an inch away from her.

Alina remained controlled with her drinking, sipping wine slower than she had been drinking lately and that in and of itself felt like a victory. She did relax slightly but Jake noticed how she tended to stay close to him or Kiley. If she was ever talking to another of the girls, Kiley was also involved and if she moved along, Alina would do the same after a minute or so. She’d finally settled into a conversation with Charlie Coyle and his girlfriend leaving Jake to talk to a few other people while still keeping a close eye on her.

He desperately wanted to leave, wanted to get her alone so they could talk or make out or do more, he didn’t know. But he also wanted to give her the chance to get along with the group because he was hoping she’d be part of it soon.

“Slim! My guy! You crash any cars lately?” Khuls came blazing in loudly and Jake noticed Alina’s eyes shooting over and narrowing at the words.

He rubbed at his neck, “Er, not lately, man.”

Once the can was open, a few of the other guys started to chirp him, mostly around if he was going to grow a mullet again this year or if he’d been working out instead of going to McDonalds every night. He kept glancing over at Alina who was back to Russian Bitch Face and he was worried about what was about to come next if the guys didn’t stop.

And sure enough, Karson said something else about his driving and then Alina was at his side, threading her fingers with his. There was barely contained rage on her face but she seemed to swallow it down, instead squeezing his hand tightly.

Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to his ear. “I’m ready to go if you are.”

He knew she was trying to make an effort, trying to get his friends to like her and in this case that meant not saying a word to them when they were chirping him.

He knew his face gave away everything when he looked down at her with a goofy smile. “Yeah, Leens – let’s go.”

“You guys are leaving already?” Kiley pouted and rather than admit Alina had just about had enough of being around so many people she wasn’t comfortable with he shrugged, swinging their clasped hands lightly.

“Sorry, Ki – we have late dinner plans.”

“Where are you going?” the girl that had been bitchy about the wine Alina had brought cut in and Jake was never outwardly rude so he just gave her a tight smile.

“Committee, down by the waterfront near our place.” He liked saying ‘our place’ like they lived together for real instead of just in the same building. “It’s Leenie’s favorite.” He added to get this girl to realize Alina wasn’t just some random girl that he’d brought out for a good time.

“Nice.” Chuck gave a reassuring nod, seeming to understand that it was time for them to leave. “Thanks for coming, bro.”

They made their goodbyes as quickly as possible but it still took about fifteen minutes to get out of there. By the time they were heading down the hall, Jake was thrumming with energy at getting to be alone with Alina. As they stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut, Alina was wrapping herself around his body and pulling him to her lips for a soft kiss.

He pulled back, grinning down at her. “Do you actually want dinner?” he teased and she flushed slightly before smacking his stomach.

“I’m a classy lady, I need dinner first.” She smirked back at him, stepping up for another kiss but he pulled back so she couldn’t reach him.

“You know this is more than that, eh?” He paused, serious as he brushed her hair back off her shoulders.

She squeezed his waist, tucking one hand under his t-shirt and tugging on the belt loop with her other. “If it was just that, I would’ve taken advantage of the four times I’ve woken up to your hard cock poking me in the ass.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, flushing red and feeling his body overheat at her words. “You noticed that?”

“Jesus – yeah. I noticed it.” Now she was flushing, biting on her lip teasingly and trailing her fingers down his torso. “But yeah, Jakey – let’s go to dinner first.”

She seemed to have timed it perfectly, winking up at him just as the elevator door slid open and then she slinked out, heading towards their waiting Uber, leaving Jake shaking his head like a puppy. Before the doors could close on him he hurried after her, catching her around the waist just as she was opening the car door and he hustled them inside.

The couple glasses of wine they’d both drank seemed to have made them both more relaxed and Jake spent the ride back to South Boston contenting himself with sweet, slow kisses and brushing his fingers along the waistband of her jeans. He was aching just thinking about what it would be like when they got home. It was tempting to just race home and throw her on the mattress but Jake wanted to talk about it first. Make sure this wasn’t a rebound or a hookup. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take it if they weren’t on the same page.

By the time they got to the restaurant, Jake was half hard and regretting his plan to go through dinner. The Uber driver had given them a sharp warning to stop getting handsy and Alina had just replied back in Russian angrily which seemed to scare him into leaving them alone.

They were both happy it was a Tuesday and the restaurant was only half full. Jake requested a table in the back corner and while he’d always made fun of couples that sat on the same side, it was impossible to separate himself from being close to her. So he slid in next to her, crowding into her space until she was playfully trying to push him away.

“What?” he asked, ducking in close so he could kiss her. “You think I can sit all the way over there when you’re here looking like that?”

“Like what?” she teased.

“How you always do,” Jake shrugged. “Perfect.”

Alina flushed and Jake was pretty sure he’d never seen her blush as much as she had tonight. She slid her hand along his thigh, dancing her fingertips up along his leg until he was inhaling sharply and caught her wrist with his hand.

“Why won’t you let me play?” she teased, pressing her face against his neck.

Jake had to take in a few deep calming breaths and he felt grateful when the server stopped by. They ordered cocktails and an appetizer but he didn’t think the two of them had the patience for actual dinner.

As soon as the server walked away, Alina was back to teasing her fingers along his leg and he had to get hold of the situation before he wasn’t able to think straight.

“Leenie…can we talk? For just a minute?”

She frowned slightly, pulling back when she realized he was being serious. “Um, of course. I just – you want this too, right?”

The question caught him so off-guard he was quiet for a beat too long. Alina looked up at him sadly, biting hard on her lower lip. He panicked slightly, turning to face her so he could hold her face and she couldn’t avoid his stare.

“Alina,” he started seriously. “I want this. I want you. But I also want more.”

He held his breath, waiting for his words to sink in. She was gripping on to his wrist tightly, eyes scanning his nervously. “Like…you like me?”

He huffed a breath out. How could she not know? 

“Yeah, Leens. I like you. A lot. Like a lot a lot.”

“A lot a lot?”

“More than you could know.” He admitted, heart pounding in his chest. He’d watched Alina go through a traumatic relationship and he liked to think he’d helped her start to heal. Over the last year and a bit of knowing her, he’d fallen hard and stupid but it had felt like she’d been right there with him.

She opened her mouth to respond but shut it, looking shier than he’d ever seen her before. It felt like she was quiet for hours until she finally spoke.

“I – I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about someone before.” She admitted quietly, rubbing her thumb along the underside of his wrist. “I’m – shit…I’m not easy and kind of a disaster but you make me feel good; feel like someone that deserves to be loved. I want to try this. I want to be with you if you want to be with me.”

“We’ll go slow. I don’t want to push you but I need you to know I’m not gonna give up or go away just because you get a little too drunk one night or you yell at half my friends.” He teased slightly and she gave a watery little chuckle.

“Can we still have sex tonight though?” she asked and he choked on air, glaring at her when she started laughing.

“I might hold out on you just for that.” He answered with zero truth in his words. She raised one eyebrow and just leaned back without a word before he huffed a sigh. “Yeah okay, there’s no way I’m ever going to deny you anything.”

It was obvious he wasn’t just talking about tonight and instead of speaking, Alina just leaned forward to kiss him gently.

Their drinks arrived and then the food shortly after while the two of them went back to their normal relationship, joking and teasing each other except this time there were kisses and sly touches mixed in. Jake felt like he was floating. It was everything he’d been wanting for more than a year and it was better than he’d ever imagined.

Before the server could even ask if they wanted more food or drinks, Jake was sliding his credit card over. All he wanted was to get Alina alone. The restaurant was only a block away from their building and as soon as the check was signed, he was bundling her out the door and practically dragging her along as they walked.

Alina giggled behind him and he just squeezed her hand tighter. “I’m not gonna run away from you, Jed.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you it’s that you’re a drunk runner.”

“Trust me,” she started to say and he glanced over at her, drinking in the happy glow around her and the way her eyes were sparkling back at him. “I’m not running away from this.”

--- ---

“Holy shit.” Jake exhaled into Alina’s neck as he tried to catch his breath. 

He’d collapsed on top of her and he could feel her still pulsing around him and her heart racing. He lifted his head to see her staring back at him, eyes soft and a happy little smile playing on her kiss-bruised lips. She ran a hand through his hair as he finally rolled off of her, hissing slightly at the loss of her around him.

“We’ve been cuddling for weeks when we could’ve been doing that?” she whispered, rolling into him so she could wrap around his body. He lifted his arm up to hold her close, smirking and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“To be fair, I’ve been thinking about doing that for more than a year.”

“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow at him. “And how did you prepare? Watch some game tape?”

He threw his head back with a laugh, sliding a hand down her side to land on her ass. “Lotta nights alone in hotel rooms thinking about what I’d do if I had you in my bed.”

“Did it live up to your expectations?”

“Not even a little.” He answered, grinning at the glare she gave him. Before she could say anything he tilted her head up to catch her lips in another kiss then pulled back. “It was a million times better.”

They fell quiet, content to stay cuddled up in the little cocoon they’d made. Alina’s bed was a massive king but they stayed on top of each other, the sheets tangled around them. Jake felt like he was moving through a dream. Last night he had been arguing with his teammates about Alina and how they were ‘just friends’ and now he was in her bed with her naked body pressed against him, trailing her fingers up and down his stomach gently. He traced the length of her spine, a little smile playing on his lips.

He stared down at her, eyes drinking in her features. There was a little birthmark he’d never noticed right on her temple. Her hair was a mess, the dark waves tickling his arm. She was staring across the room sleepily, eyes hooded and a satisfied little smile on her lips. The warmth of her body and the way she was distractedly running her fingers along his skin was making him sleepy. Eventually, her movements slowed and they both dropped off to sleep.

The next thing Jake knew a loud banging was startling the two of them awake. Alina shot up into a sitting position next to him, blinking awake and alert faster than he was. The banging continued, coupled with muffled yelling.

Frantically, she rolled out of the bed, grabbing her phone before snagging his button down and pulling it on as she hurried out of the room.

“Fuck.” Jake hissed, jumping out to follow her only pausing to grab a pair of shorts he’d left at some point.

The banging was deafening in the living room, shouts coming through the door and it wasn’t hard to guess who was out there based on the language and the sheer fear on Alina’s face.

“Baby, let me – ” he moved towards the door but she got between him, pushing back on his chest.

She started to yell back through the door in Russian, clearly telling her ex to go away but he just kept pounding loudly. It was nearly three in the morning and he was going to wake up the neighbors if he didn’t leave soon. Nothing she was saying was working and Jake felt helpless. There was pure fear etched on her face and he stepped behind her to place a calming hand on her back.

“Do you want me to call the police?” it was the only thing he could think of except opening the door and telling him to fuck off himself. He was bigger than her ex but he’d always noticed there was something unhinged that reflected in his eyes. But if it meant protecting Alina, he’d go toe to toe with the guy.

“Yes – no – shit, they never help. I’ll just – I – fuck. I’m going to open the door but keep the chain on. He – he’s yelling about you.” She whispered at him, panic and fear overwhelming her momentarily and some of what she said made no sense. “There’s something on Instagram?”

Jake paled wondering what the fuck could’ve been posted in the last few hours to put this guy in a rage. He could only imagine that it wasn’t good.

Alina cracked the door slightly, hissing back in Russian as her ex pushed hard against the door trying to snap the chain. She jumped back in fear and there was zero-way Jake was going to let this continue.

He stepped forward, pushing Alina behind him. The second her ex caught his eye, his face turned red and he shook the door harder.  

“Stay fuck away Alinochka.” His words were followed by another hard bang as he tried to muscle through the chain.

“You need to leave.” Jake shot back, forgetting he was standing in just a pair of shorts while Alina was wearing his shirt which was only making the guy angrier.

He switched back to Russian, yelling angrily at Alina who was responding but her voice was shaking.

“Leen – this isn’t okay, I’m getting rid of him.”

The fear grew on her face and she grabbed his arm frantically. “Jake, no. You can’t get into a fight because of me.”

“He’s a piece of shit, I don’t want him anywhere near you.” He squeezed her arm softly before turning back to the door and inhaling deeply, trying to control his own temper. He threw the door open and thankfully her ex was smaller than he remembered. Definitely still an angry maniac who hit women but Jake was stronger.

Her ex tried to barrel through the door, attempting to get by him and to Alina, shoving into Jake who pushed him back. “Not gonna say it again, man. Get the fuck out of here. And don’t fucking come back.”

He tried again to get past Jake who muscled him back. He had tunnel vision, entirely focused on getting her ex the fuck away from her. He really didn’t want to get into a fist fight in the middle of the night but he would if it meant keeping her safe. Another shove and this time Jake was knocked back into the apartment. Alina gave a little shriek of panic and he heard her on the phone, giving their address and begging for someone to come quickly.

Again, her ex barreled towards him and this time, caught him around the waist. Jake fell back with a thud and just barely had time to get his arm up to protect himself from a punch. The second one landed, cracking him dully on the side of the head. Going off instinct, he pushed his hands on his chest, shoving as hard as he could to get him off of him.

The move managed to allow him to scramble up and reposition himself in front of Alina who looked like she was having a panic attack. But he barely had time to glance at her before returning his focus to her absolute fucking psycho ex who was preparing to take another swing at him. Ducking from the blow, he managed to hit him squarely in the face, hearing the satisfying crunch of a broken nose. Blood started to drip onto the floor and it slowed him down long enough for two cops to come barreling into the room, one grabbing her ex and the other pushing him back.

One cop tried to get control of the screaming Russian who was spewing blood all over the place while Jake immediately threw his hands up defensively to show he wasn’t doing anything. It only took about thirty seconds for the cops to recognize him.

“Jesus, DeBrusk?” the one that had initially tried to restrain him before realizing he wasn’t the problem. He was an older guy, maybe his dad’s age while the guy trying to hold onto Alina’s ex was younger and beefier, practically a John Cena clone.

“Yeah – can you guys get this asshole away from my girlfriend?” he snarled angrily, stepping over to snag Alina’s hand and pull her close to him. He was trying to calm his breathing, shaking out his hand that was already killing him while pulling her into his side.

“Okay, let’s all calm down here. Jesus – does this guy speak English?” the other officer said, still struggling to control him.

“Sir, officer, I’m sorry – he does but his English isn’t great.” Alina managed to get out, her voice cracking slightly. “His name is Mikhail Drozdov.”

Mikhail’s eyes flashed dangerously at Alina and he tried again to lunge forward to grab at her.

“None of that.” Officer Cena clone grunted, using one hand to twist Mikhail’s arm back behind him at a painful angle to snag his handcuffs before finally restraining him and plopping him down on the floor. “Stay. Does he understand ‘stay’?”

Alina hissed at Mikhail, her words sounding harsh and bitter. He was still glaring at the way she was tucked protectively into Jake’s side. The longer he was sitting there, the stronger the scent of vodka grew and Jake realized the guy was completely obliterated.

“Now that he’s restrained, can I ask you two a few questions?”

“Yes, sir.” Jake said, turning to his media training. He was going to get lit up by the front office if this got out but he was just happy he’d been here to protect Alina and now he just wanted to focus on getting everyone the fuck out of her apartment. “Can we grab some clothes first?”

The officer smirked at the pair of them in their state of undress. Alina was trying to cover herself and Jake made a point to shield as much of her body as she could.

“Go ahead, kids. We’ll try to interview Igor over here while we wait.”

Jake turned carefully, still keeping her as covered as he could as he nudged her back towards her bedroom. The second they were in the room Alina burst into tears and threw herself into his arms.

“Holy shit, Jake – I’m so sorry. So so fucking sorry.” She rambled into the crook of his neck, her tears soaking into his skin. “I don’t know what happened. He was yelling about something on Instagram? What does that even mean? How did he know we were together?”

Jake’s stomach flipped. Someone from the party had to have posted something that showed the pair of them together. He didn’t think it would be from the restaurant, that would take a lot to find but if it was in the background of one of the guys’ stories, it was possible.

He drew back so he could look at her, pushing her hair off her face and pressing a quick kiss to her nose. “I don’t know, baby. Maybe one of the guys shared something? And we were in the back? I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.”

“How much trouble are you going to be in?” she asked, focusing her worry on him. It made his heart hurt a little to think about the fact that some asshole had just physically tried to assault her and she was worried about him. Carefully, she brushed at his eye where the punch had landed. “I bet the cops would let you go back to your place. You don’t have to be involved. It’ll just be me and Mikhail.”

“Leen, I’m not leaving you. We didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll talk to Bergy in the morning. He’ll help but right now we have to go talk to them.”

Nervously, she nodded through wide, watery eyes. He hated seeing the terror on her face so he pulled her in for a kiss, pressing his lips to hers and holding her tightly for a long moment. When he released her, they quickly got dressed; Jake pulling on a Bruins sweatshirt of his that Alina had stolen a couple weeks ago while she dragged on a pair of yoga pants while keeping his shirt on. The buttons were crooked and only two of them done up so he paused to carefully fix it for her.

Finally they emerged from her room to find two more cops had arrived and Mikhail still on the floor, spitting an angry stream of Russian at those around him. When he spotted Alina he snarled and tried to move forward.

“Where’d you find this guy?” Cena clone asked, kicking at his leg slightly.

Alina ignored him, walking back towards the first cop they’d talked to. “I’m Alina Agapov.”

“Yes, ma’am. We pulled your info. I’m Sergeant McDonald. Let’s take a seat in the kitchen, okay?” It was like a switch had flipped, the police officer turning into a kindly uncle as he led Alina and Jake towards the kitchen island where the two of them sat down. “Looks like you have an active restraining order against Mr. Drozdov.”

Jake shot a surprised look at Alina. He had no idea that she’d taken her ex to court and he hated himself for not having been around to help her through it. And that she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him about it.

She swallowed hard, moving closer to Jake and he wrapped his arm around her, letting her lead the conversation.

“Yes, that’s right. We just had the hearing a few weeks ago. He – he’s not supposed to come near me.”

“No, ma’am. We’re going to bring him into the station and hold him. He’ll have the option of bail but the more times he breaks the order, the worse it’ll be.” Sergeant McDonald said softly but his words did nothing to calm Jake’s anger.

“‘More times he breaks it’? What the fuck does that mean – he’ll just keep trying to attack her but bail will go up?”

“Calm down.” He said sharply, shooting Jake a stern look.

Alina squeezed his leg. “Jake, please. It’s okay.”

“No, it fucking isn’t.” He huffed under his breath but fell quiet as they were asked more questions. They recounted the night, explaining that they’d been asleep when Mikhail had showed up screaming then all that had happened to get to this point.

Jake chanced a glance behind him to see two of the officers hauling Mikhail out of the apartment. He sighed slightly, pulling Alina in tighter to him. After another ten minutes of answering questions, the officer finally seemed satisfied and offered a card to Alina.

“This is where we’ll be holding him and that’s where you can get a copy of the report. Recommend you call your lawyer in the morning, he’ll know what to do next.” He looked awkward, unsure of how to deal with a girl that was so clearly emotionally drained and then slid his gaze to Jake. “Listen – we, uh, we don’t have to put your name in the report or anything.”

Surprised, Jake looked at him. “That – that doesn’t seem right. I broke his nose.”

“We can work around that, son. The guy is gonna go to jail regardless, your girl has like seven police reports filed against him so it shouldn’t be a hard decision for the judge.”

The fact that Alina had filed so many reports hit him like a truck. It had clearly been far worse than he’d even realized. In a daze, knowing the cop was giving him an out because of who he was, he looked down at Alina.

“He’s right, Jake – this can fuck things up for you.” She said softly, her gray eyes pleading with him to think about himself.

It didn’t feel right. He was worried if there was anything that wasn’t right in that report, Mikhail would be able to work around it and get back at Alina.

So he shook his head no. “Just – write it as it happened, sir. I’ll sign it or whatever but it should be right.”

Sighing, Sergeant McDonald flipped his notebook closed. “Okay…we’ll do our best to keep it quiet though. And uh, good luck – you’re playing like a beast.”

He gave him a tight smile. The fact that they were talking about his play when a guy had just violently gone after his girlfriend didn’t exactly sit right with him.

But he walked him to the door, saying goodbye to the other cop who was lingering as well, staring curiously at Alina. This had been a nightmare of a night and there was still blood all over the floor. As he shut the door behind them, he leaned against it, tapping his head lightly against the surface.

He squeezed his eyes tightly before turning to face Alina. Her face was pale, quiet tears streaming down her cheeks. He rushed towards her, dragging her into his arms and holding her as she cried.

What a fucking night.

It was almost five in the morning. He had practice in a few hours and he knew he’d need to go in early to let management know about what had happened but right now all he could think about was holding Alina.

He rubbed her back gently, tilting her face up to his. “Baby, let’s go to my place – we can lay down for a bit longer.”

She sniffled, wiping her nose with his sleeve. “This is humiliating. I’m sorry, Jakey. Maybe you should just go – ”

“Stop apologizing. And there’s no way I’m going to leave you. I told you earlier I wasn’t going to give up on you. On us.”

“You called me your girlfriend.” She said softly, hands gripping his waist tightly.

He smiled down at her, “That’s because you are. At least, I want you to be.”

“So much for slow.” She managed to tease through a watery smile. “I like it. I like you.”

“Then come on, girlfriend. Let’s go home.”

Trying to ignore the blood on the floor, he told her he’d call someone to clean it tomorrow when she tried to pause to take care of it. He kept a tight hold on her hand as they walked the length of the hall to get to his apartment. It was quiet and peaceful in his place compared to what they’d just walked out of. He didn’t want to push her but he had more questions than answers at this point. There wasn’t anything she could do that would make him not want to be with her; that didn’t mean she could cut him out and not tell him things.

Alina went straight into his bedroom, pulling him along by his hand. She slid out of her yoga pants but kept his shirt on as she crawled into his bed. He pulled his sweatshirt off then slid in next to her, wrapping around her body.

“Can we talk, Leenie?” he whispered in her ear. “I need you to talk to me.”

She inhaled sharply, sniffling as she did and he felt her shake slightly. He wasn’t sure she’d share but then she started to speak softly. “We – we started dating when I was fifteen. My uh – my parents died when I was ten. That’s why I moved to the States. To be with my Dedushka. He lived in this neighborhood in Brooklyn that was mostly Russian and I met Mikhail there. It just – it was easy to talk to him, he knew what it was like. Leaving home and being in a place where people glared if you fucked up your English.”

Jake felt his heart pounding as she shook slightly in his arms. She pushed back into him to try to get closer and he just hugged her tightly, pressing a kiss to her head as she continued.

“I’d spent five years barely talking to anyone. Too scared to speak until my English was perfect. Then Mikhail showed up. He was always with his dad when they came to my Dedushka’s restaurant. He made me remember where I’d come from. His parents were from the same city I’d grown up in. He was familiar in the most comforting way.”

She paused, trying to catch her breath. Jake ran his fingers down her arm so he could lace their fingers together.

“He wasn’t always so terrible. My Deduskha would’ve kill him, that’s for sure.” She gave a watery little chuckle before continuing. “But then…” she paused and Jake could hear her sniffling again, a little whimper slipping from her lips.

“Baby, come’re.” he whispered against her head, loosening his grip so he could turn him towards him. Her eyes were filled with tears and he used his thumbs to wipe them away. “I’m sorry, if it’s too much – we can talk la – ”

“No,” she said sharper than he expected before her features softened. “I – I know I haven’t shared a lot with you. And you deserve to hear this after tonight.”

He leaned forward to kiss her gently, nudging his nose against hers until she smiled. It was harder for her now, facing him as she spoke. She stayed quiet for a long moment before finally staring up at him and continuing.

“My Dedushka died when I was nineteen. And then it was just me.” She whispered.

Jake swallowed hard. No wonder she never talked about family: she didn’t have any. He rubbed her back lightly as she tried to swallow back her tears.

“He was all I really had left. I’ve never made friends very easily and my whole life was in that little neighborhood in Brooklyn. But…well you saw him. The older he got, the more controlling. He expected us to get married and me to be his little wife and have babies but I didn’t want that.

“I wanted to be a nurse. I wanted to see what else was out there beyond the little corner I knew. We made a deal that we would go to Boston for a couple years and if he did that for me, I’d marry him.”

Her voice was so soft, he barely heard her but the words hit him like a truck. The idea that he would’ve never had this made him sick. But he stayed quiet, rubbing her back gently as she talked.

“He got a job in Boston easily with this international accounting firm, managing the Russian relationships. He settled in better than I did – going out with the guys he worked with constantly. I was studying and working so much, exhausted all the time but I noticed how bad his drinking got. He’d come home sometimes just…so fucking angry for no reason. He didn’t get rough until a year or so ago. But it was a pattern I’d seen from Mikhail’s own father. His mama was so…broken. I started to see that becoming my future.

“It just kept getting worse. The cheating. Yelling. The hitting. But then I met you.” She smiled slightly, looking up at him and pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. “And you just…were this light, funny, perfect guy. Who was soft and gentle with me and I started to fall for you but I didn’t know how to get away from Mikhail.”

“I wish I’d – I…” he struggled for the words, feeling lost and a little blindsided. “I didn’t know how to help you.”

“Jake, you did help me.” She swore, brushing his hair back off his forehead. “You couldn’t fix everything, I needed to fix a lot of it myself first. And I made mistakes by letting Mikhail back in so many times but he was my past – the closest thing I had to family and that was hard to let go.”

“Tell me about the restraining order.” He asked softly, bracing himself for how hard it would be to hear what she had to say.

“I did the right thing – the thing you’re supposed to which is report the abuse. So I started to. He was…it was usually the worst when you were out of town. It’s like he waited until you were gone then he’d come over raging like you just saw. I almost got evicted over the summer from the number of times they had to call the cops but the management company was surprisingly good about it.”

“Jesus, Leen – why didn’t you tell me?” Jake asked, trying not to get upset.

Her eyes filled with tears again. “It’s humiliating. All the neighbors hearing him scream at me and throw things then the cops showing up at all hours. I didn’t want you to know that about me.”

“I would’ve come back. I would’ve helped.” He drew her in closer, squeezing her against his chest.

“I know you would’ve, but you deserved your summer. Deserved time with your family and friends.” Her voice was muffled into his chest and she was crying softly again.

“Hey now,” he whispered, grasping her chin to turn her face up to his. “No more crying. Let’s get some sleep, you’re exhausted. This is still the best night of my life.”

That earned him another little laugh as she angled up to kiss him softly. “You haven’t had a very good life then, babe.”

He scoffed. “I’m in the NHL. Very important and cool and do a lot of things. You’re still the best thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed kisses along her face as she giggled and swatted him away.

“Oh, so now I’m just something you’ve done?” she raised an eyebrow at him and he groaned, flopping his head back on the pillow. She kept a smile on her face as she rolled on top of him, straddling his waist.

He caught her hips to keep her steady, rubbing his thumb along her skin. “This is a nice view.”

Leaning back, she grabbed for his right hand. “You okay?” She pressed a kiss to each knuckle, frowning at how red they were before focusing on his face. Gently, she brushed her fingers along his tender cheek. “Do you need ice? I think this is gonna be a black eye.”

“I’m fine. Come’re,” he urged and pulled her down to him so he could thread his hands through her hair to pull her down to his lips. “Want a kiss. Then it’s bedtime.”

“Shit – what time do you have practice?”

“Eleven. I’m gonna go around ten though. I need to talk to Bergy and figure out who to talk to on the team.”

Alina frowned. “I told you I was a train wreck. It’s not too late to – ”

Jake cut her off, leaning forward to kiss her before pulling back. “Leen, I mean this is the nicest way possible – shut up. You’re my girl.”

“Thank you, Jakey.” She whispered, sliding off him and nestling back into his side.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Go to sleep, I’ll wake you up before I go.”

She mumbled something in Russian, pressing her lips to his chest and then she was out like a light. He lay awake for a while after she’d fallen asleep, holding her against him and thinking about the night. Everything she’d told him about her life made things so much clearer: the way she was so strong and stubborn yet had continually gone back to an abusive boyfriend, how she never talked about her past or her family. He wished she’d told him sooner but he knew he couldn’t have dragged this out of her until she was ready.

The sun was just starting to peak through the windows when he finally dropped off to sleep, dreading what waited for him at practice later but still happier than he’d been in a long time.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Ignorance is Blitzed (Part Three)

Ron Speirs x Reader

Summary: When you come into contact with some substance that makes you sick while on a routine building search, Ron realizes he may not be as emotionally detached as he’d thought initially thought.

Warnings: war-typical violence, a (literally) dashing nightmare magpie prince, potty words, angst maybe?, a few ocs but don’t get too attached bbs, a very sad attempt at witty dialogue ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

If you weren’t convinced that Dike was moments from getting himself, you,  and the rest of Easy killed, you would’ve sworn that you were going to kill him yourself.

At least if you shot him, it meant that someone who actually knew what they were doing could take his place, and that meant that something like this would never happen again.

There may not be an Easy Company left to save, in a few seconds….

You, Christenson, and a few replacements had found cover behind the shell of a truck, a few yards up the field from the hay bale you knew Dike to be hiding behind. 

“What in the fuck is happening over there?” Christenson shouted, the replacements trying their best to hold cover while the two of you desperately tried to figure out a way to get somewhere more tactical to alleviate the fire currently being hailed upon all of you like some biblical plague.

“Dike’s being a pussy!” one of the replacements replied before a bullet dinged him in the helmet and he cursed pitchily. “Why isn’t anyone doing anything—?”

You could hear shouting from the hay bale, so you knew your friends over there were still alive and trying to do something.

If we stay here, we’ll die before we can even try to do something helpful.

“What’s CP doing?” you shout to the replacement on your left, grabbing his vest and pulling him down out of the line of fire. “Use you binoculars—!”

With (understandably) fumbling  hands, the young man brings the apparatus to his face and scans the tree line, cursing aloud each moment that passes and he can’t see them.

Anxious energy has you so keyed up your body is trembling, but you know that if you rush him it’ll just stress him out and make it worse.

“Good job,” you say, even though both you and he know that he hasn’t really accomplished anything yet. “I’ve got you covered, just let me know whenever—”

“Got em.”

Both you and Chistenson share a look of minute relief. So far, this was the first thing about this godforsaken day that had gone right.

At least the lot of you hadn’t been left to die.

“What do you see, Nelson?” the other replacement, Grante with an ‘E’, called as he reloaded his gun. “Does it look like they’re on the radio—?”

“Winters is coming—no, wait!”

You spot a runner for the Germans from your peripheral, and without hesitation you take aim and subdue them. 

Six months ago I would’ve shot to wound….what would my family say if they saw me now?

They’d have to talk to you first, and you weren’t sure if that would ever happen again.

“Oh, shit…..it’s your boyfriend—”

“What?!”  

You squint stupidly in the direction of the trees, seeing nothing but suddenly terrified at the prospect of having to watch Nix or Bull or Grant (or whoever else these dicks you worked with decided you were sleeping with) get killed in their stupid attempt at bravery.

Unless he means….

You watch someone burst through the smoke of a target-missing mortar blast, charging like some avenging God of War towards the hay bale shrouding Dike, Lip, Luz, and however many more of your friends were trapped behind before disappearing.

Ron Speirs, you goddamned psychopath.

“Fuck.” you bit out, turning to Christenson and getting his attention. “Any sign of I Company?”

The four of you initially had been part of a bigger group, and your aim had been to hook up along the outer fringes with some of I Company and create a perimeter from which the Nazi soldiers would be unable to escape or send for reinforcements. 

Christenson nodded. “They look like they’re waiting on us—”

“Yeah, well tell ‘em to get in line!” Grante barked unhelpfully, his voice cracking and reminding you just how young he was. “We’re waiting on us, too!”

You hear a shout of your last name, and when you look back to the hay bale you see that Ron and Lipton are waving to get your attention.

When you meet Ron’s eyes you see the fire of battle raging inside of him, and you can’t help but feel relief that Dike was no longer in charge of your fate.

Using hand signals that had been drilled into your head ever since Georgia you tell him and Lip that five of your party are down, but you have eyes on I Company and just need the okay to hook up with them.

You watched as the two men spoke to eachother, and when they turned away from you you imagined they were relaying what you’d said to Luz so he could let Sink know your intentions.

After a few moments, Speirs tells you with quick and precise motions that you are good to go— he has cover fire arranged for your group so you can dash the final 200 yards into the building you knew housed I Company.

You shoot him a thumbs up before turning to Christenson and nodding excitedly.

“Ready, kids?” you ask, and when they voice their readiness you make a dash for it, leaving the shell of protection the car provided behind and running as quickly as you could towards the bombed out farmhouse, the sound of heavy breathing letting you know that at least Christenson was right behind you.

You don’t look back, can’t look back- all that mattered right now was forward and careful and shouting “flash FLASH FLASH!”

The call of THUNDER preceded you and Christenson all but throwing yourselves through the doorway and into the arms of the five I Company men you’d arranged to meet.

“Fuck, where’ve you been?!” one of them is shouting in your face, and you glare at them qyuickly before looking to where a blood-speckled Nelson is gasping for breath in the doorway. Grante was nowhere to be seen, and one look from Nelson told you that the younger man hadn’t made it.

“The salon, getting my hair permed.” you deadpan to the rifleman, finding the CO and shaking his hand.

“Where do you want us?”

He nods and waves Christenson and Nelson over. “Just this way, ma’am….”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“Ho-ly shit.”

You look up at the I Company CO (Parker, you remember quickly)  parts of a jammed machine gun between your legs as you desperately attempt to fix Nelson’s weapon.

“What?” you ask, fingers moving faster than your mind can keep up with as you quickly dislodge the shrapnel from the chamber of the gun and begin putting the thing back together on reflex.

You had been holding the line for the past hour, and for that hour the same question had been on everyone’s mind. “Tanks? Did we miss a runner—?”

Where the fuck is the rest of Easy? They should’ve been here by now to check in….

When the gun is reassembled, you shove it into the replacement’s hand and move to see what has Parker so excited, hoping beyond hope that you’d see the faces of your friends rushing to meet you.

To your horror, you only saw one face, and it happened to be the face of the man who made a point to be the one who woke you up each morning with a full canteen and the promise of breakfast.

Of course it’s going to be someone important to me, my…..whatever it is he is to me.

 “Where’s everybody?” Christenson shouted, an unfazed Ron breezing past him to quickly grab the ammo and sling it over his shoulder.

Ron goes straight to the CO and starts talking to him in harsh tones under his breath, yet his eyes still search the room until they find yours.

He’s okay, he’s safe and he’s here now. It’s okay.

You give him a nod before moving on to the next jammed weapon that had been shoved into your hands wordlessly by Christenson after he takes one of the German ones from a body next to him.

Fucking Dike. He’d have us fighting with slingshots and pebbles if it meant he got to stay warm at the CP. Half of us didn’t even have weapons until Bill and Babe started repossessing the Army’s shit. If we survive this, I’m going to kill Dike, I swear to God….

You fix the gun, glad it was only a minor fix that was needed this time. When you look back to Ron, he’s tightening his helmet on his head and looking back the way he had just come.

Goddamnit. Of course he’s running back into danger. He’s Ron fucking Speirs.

You shake yourself from your stupor and quickly rush over to him as he picks up the last of his things and prepares to go.

When he looks up at you, you shove the rifle you’d taken off the corpse of a German you’d come across on your last scouting mission into his hands and take his standard issued one away.

“Take this one,” you say breathlessly, as if you were the one who had been running. “It holds more rounds and shoots cleaner.”

He nods, eyes wild with adrenaline as he scans you over for any sign of injury.

“You good?” he asks, and you nod and try to shrug casually.

It’s hard, you are also nearly vibrating with adrenaline and nervous energy.

“I’d ask you the same, but clearly you’ve got a death wish, so—”

Before you can finish chastising him, his rough hands come up to grip your face and he smashes his lips to yours in a rough kiss that’s nearly bruising in its force.

Oh...OH. Oh shit!

You inhale sharply through your nose, head tilting back as he steps into you and puts his hands on your shoulders and squeezed.

You gape at him stupidly when he pulls back and feel the blood rushing to your cheeks in surprise at his boldness.

You hadn’t been kissed since long before Georgia, hadn’t wanted to be kissed or coddled or shown too much affection because in your relatively short life, you’d come to know unreserved compassion as a weakness. 

“Love is nice but it isn’t reliable. Life isn’t a fairytale, sweetheart— everything has a price.

Nothing can hurt you if you don’t let it matter in the first place….”

Well, Mom— I’m doing my best, but I just don’t know if you’re right about this one, not this time….

Ron smirks down at you with such a self-satisfied look you smack him lightly on the chest on reflex rather than due to any actual upset.

“Yell at me later.” he offers when you open your mouth to speak, and with one more quick, breath-stealing kiss he’s gone again, running into enemy fire far too casually for your liking.

When you turn to watch him go you catch Christenson staring at you, a similar expression of shock on his face.

Ok, so I didn’t dream that, that actually happened.

You have to literally shake your head in order to get through the surprise, and when you do a weird pit of anger forms in your stomach.

That fucker better live, because he can’t just do that and run off.

You square your shoulders and grab the newly repaired gun at your feet, going to the hole in the wall and shooting at anything that looks as if it may mean Ron Speirs any harm.

He rolls over a stone fence, and you can’t help but shake your head.

He’s fucking with my plans, that son of a bitch. 

“So, uh….that was—”

“Shut up, Christenson. Just…. shut up.”

You hear the hitch of a chuckle from his direction. 

“Bull will be happy—”

“Shut. The fuck. Up! Keep shooting, you damn fucking child….!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Ask him how far away their backup is.”

You nod to Dick, dutifully repeating the question to the bruised and bloodied german soldier who sat before a group of you after his comrade had identified him as his superior officer.

You listen to the mumbled reply and nod. “About three hours by foot, an hour if you cut through fields.”

“Ask him for a number. How many miles? How many villages?”

You press him for specifics, but he just spits bloodily at Dick’s feet before calling him something you couldn’t fully translate (but assumed was insulting).

“I’ll take it that’s a no on getting specifics.” Nix smirked, stepping to the soldier and grabbing him bodily by the arm. “I think battalion’s gonna love you—”

You squeeze your eyes shut as Lewis leads the captured man to a truck where the others are waiting to be transported back to wherever they’d set up HQ, pinching at the pressure point at the top of the bridge of your nose in a vain attempt to ease some of the pain of your stress headache.

“Headache?” Winters asks, and you instantly lower your hand and straighten up.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” 

He chuckles at that, giving you a knowing look. “I think you and I both know you could lose a limb and still insist that you’re fit for duty.”

You scoff a laugh. “I suppose it would depend on which limb…. and what duty, Sir.”

He looks at you with all the exhaustion of a first time father, and you laugh in earnest.

“Go see someone if it gets too bad.”

“Sir.” you nod.

You smile as you watch him walk away, catching up with Nixon and falling into step with the man easily.

How I got accused of screwing Nixon and Winters hasn’t, I’ll never understand….

Turning to look back at the war-torn downtown, you catch Grant’s eye and he waves you over.

By the time you get to him, you find that he isn’t alone.

Leaning against the wall beside your friend is Ron Speirs, looking far too at ease for someone who you had spotted running through enemy tanks not an hour before.

“Heard you had an exciting day!”

You freeze, eyes widening as you feel yourself blushing again. 

Shit. SHIT!

“Oh, I….um—”

“I was telling him about the car you hid behind,” Ron supplied mercifully, and you feel relief so instantly that you have to brace a hand against the side of the building in order to catch yourself.

“Oh, yes! That exciting part of my day.”

Chuck looks at you strangely for a moment, bringing a hand to your forehead and holding it there.

You roll your eyes and push his hand away, smacking at it again when he tries to repeat the action. “Charles—”

“Grant, Tab!” 

The three of you turn towards the direction of Malarkey’s voice, the man jerking his thumb back to one of the trucks.

“Got some stuff for you that just got here…”

Giving you one last look, he points his finger in your face like he’s scolding a child.

“This interrogation isn’t over, young lady—”

“Don’t you mean conversation?” Ron asks, smoke from his cigarette floating around his face like fog over a lake.

You nod your head in Ron’s direction in a sign of agreement, and Chuck moves his arm so he’s now pointing at Ron.

“Y/n and I are far past social pleasantries, and I would never insult her by lying...”

You roll your eyes and gesture in the direction Grant had been called from.

“Don’t keep Mother waiting, you know how she gets.”

You watch Grant jog over and away from sight. Ron’s fingers deftly pull your braid out from beneath your collar and smooths it down, following the length of your spine in such a way that no one else would’ve been able to see should they look over suspiciously.

“If you didn’t look like you’d just committed a crime,” he says matter-of-factly. “He probably would’ve just given you a pat on the back and moved on.”

You turn and look at him over your shoulder, the closeness of his face reminding you of how he’d held you when you thought you were dying all those months ago.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, suddenly feeling very shy around him.

He hums, lips quirking up in a quick smile. “Well, my ‘suicidal death wish’ didn’t pan out as well as I’d hoped, so I’ll live—”

Something in your face made him stop, and with gentle hands he takes your shoulders and turns you to face him completely. You let him walk the two of you back behind the building a bit before stepping in to you again.

Like he had before, in the farmhouse after he kissed me….

You flush at the memory, and you may as well have said what was on your mind because he whispers your name in the way he does when he knows you’re overthinking things(or at least starting to).

Meeting his softened gaze, bite the inside of your cheek before speaking.

“I’m mad at you.” you say, hating the lack of conviction in your voice.

He nods, expression one of consideration as his hands come up to hold your face.

“I know.”

“Because what you did was really stupid—”

“I know—”

“And then you pull a move like that, hey” you cut yourself off when he smirks again, a chuckle in his throat when you glare at him. “Don’t you dare look so damn proud of yourself, I’m yelling at you—”

“Which move would you be referring to?” he goads, and you frown in order to hide the grin that threatens to break across your face. You shake your head in disbelief, leaning back against the side of the building.

“Oh my God.” you scoff out. “Are you teasing me right now? Ronald Speirs, you’re unbelievable”

He smiles down at you, and you let yourself smile back at him and nervously bring one of your hands up to cover his as it slides down to cup the side of your neck. 

Your smile slips as your eyes unintentionally flicker down to his lips again, remembering how they felt against your own.

Shooting a quick look to either side, you slowly raise onto your toes and give him a quick, shy peck. You can feel him grin for a split second before he kisses you deeply and far more thoroughly than you’ve ever been kissed before.

You sigh into the kiss, eyes drifting closed as you wrap your arms around his torso and fist the material of his jacket in your hands.

When you break for air you rest your cheek against his shoulder, hugging him tightly.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” you mumble, and for a moment you think he may not have caught what you said.

“If you think I’m going to let something as stupid as a bullet or a mortar stop me from coming back to you,” His lips are at your temple, and when you pull back to look at him follows you and gives you another smug grin. “you’ve got another thing coming.”

As you open your mouth to reply, the both of you hear Nixon calling your name, loudly asking people if they’ve seen you and which way you’d gone.

You both sigh, and smile at each other at the unintentional synchronization of the action.

“I think your boyfriend is looking for you.” He pulls playfully on your braid when you roll your eyes at him and gently push him away.

“I think I liked you better when you were just quiet and broody and handsome—”

Ron smiles wickedly at that, and you groan when you realized what you’d just said.

“Don’t let it get to your head-”

“Too late.” 

Ducking another quick kiss to your lips, he steps back just in time as Nixon rounds the corner, his words forgone in favor of eyeing the two of you suspiciously.

“What were you—”

“What’s up Lew?” you interrupt, trying your best to not look...what had Ron compared it to? 

Looking like you’d committed a crime….

Giving Ron a scrutinizing once over, Nix looked back to you and raised a brow.

“Dick’s wondering if you can show him how to switch one of the Kraut scopes to a rifle…”

“Sure!” you said, far too brightly. You had a feeling if you looked back at Ron he’d be smirking in unabashed amusement at your awkwardness. “Lead the way…”

With a frown and a suspicious hmph, Nix turned and began to walk in the direction from which he’d come.

You follow dutifully, giving Ron a quick smile over your shoulder as you hurried to catch up with Lewis.

Ron looked beyond pleased with himself, shooting you a quick wink before bringing another cigarette to his lips and lighting it.

“Care to explain that?” Nix asks under his breath once you catch up to him, taking your arm in his like the two of you were at some cotillion.

You smirk to yourself, rolling your lips together to hide the action.

“Nothing to explain, Nixy. Everything’s perfect….”

And for the first time in your life, you truly meant it.

OOF HERE WE ARE AGAIN! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR READING THE RAMBLINGS I THROW IN YOUR DIRECTION AND SORRY IF IT SUCKS

TAGLIST: @itswormtrain, @mrseasycompany​, @softspeirs​