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sandcobangevent · 14 days ago

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Missing you comes in waves (and tonight I'm drowning)

by @jonk-md and @glitterymumfriend

“Wait – wait, no, shit-” John scrambled for his phone, almost dropping it in his rush to activate the screen. Staring back at him was confirmation that it was 11:56am on Friday, 18th September.

His dad’s birthday was 17th September.

He’d forgotten his dad’s birthday.

He couldn’t believe it. He forgot. He forgot.

Distantly, he could hear Mariana calling his name, feel Sherlock’s hand on his shoulder. But he couldn’t do anything but stare at his phone screen until it went dark again, guilt pooling in the pit of his stomach.

He felt his lips moving, was vaguely aware of himself telling them he needed to call his mum. They might have said something in response, but John walked away in a daze, absently dialling Carol Watson’s phone number.

“Don’t be silly, Johnny love! It’s alright, I know how busy you are with that charming detective of yours.”

“I just- I’m really sorry, mum.”

“Nonsense! I was fine – I had a grand old time at the bingo with the girls, they kept me company. Speaking of, would you believe that Annie’s youngest has gotten herself engaged? Annie wouldn’t stop going off on one about the ring not being the right cut of diamond but frankly if that’s her only complaint it must have been a stunner, you know what she’s like-”

John hummed non-committally, shuffling things around his desk as he listened to his mum fill him in on all the gossip. Usually he’d have cut her off, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it this time.

He already felt like he’d failed her, once again.

After a while, she trailed off, wrapping up the tale of how Mr Prescott’s dog had gone for the milkman again. “You still there, love?”

“Yeah, yeah I- sorry. I’m still here. That sounds lovely, mum.”

She was silent for a moment, before he heard her sigh. “John, lovely, it’s OK. It’s been over 20 years since he passed on. You don’t need to check in on your old mum every year, I promise. I miss him – I always will – but I stopped grieving for him before you flew out to Afghanistan that first time. Was too busy worrying over you instead!” she joked. Her voice sounded a little wobbly, and John felt even worse.

He forced a chuckle in response, reaching out to idly run his fingers over the top of the framed photos on his desk.

“Don’t go fretting about it like you always do. I know how much you get stuck in that head of yours – don’t do it now. Go talk to Sherlock and Mariana, head out for a pint or something and enjoy your day.”

“Alright, mum. Take care.”

“You too, Johnny – love you!”

“Love you too.”

The line disconnected, and John dropped his phone on the desk with a sigh, slumping into the chair and placing his head in his hands. He did his best to focus on what his mum had said – that she was OK, that he shouldn’t worry himself – but he couldn’t shake the shame.

The feeling that he’d failed her. Failed both of them.

John Watson didn’t leave his room for some time.

He knew the others were concerned about him, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. How did he admit to his two best friends that he’d completely forgotten his dead dad’s birthday, all because he was selfishly occupied with the podcast? That he’d not had the wherewithal to message his mum, even once, on the day?

That on top of all of the guilt and shame, he still missed his dad even after 25 years?

It was as if he’d plunged into an ice-cold lake the moment he’d seen the date. Like he’d been wandering along the surface, blissfully unaware until the once-solid floor had given way to murky water. He could make out the light from the surface above him, but everything felt distant and fuzzy, thoughts overruled by the fight-or-flight panic over an inability to breathe.

He doubted they’d be harsh with him – they were both far too good people to kick someone whilst they were down. But a small part of him, one that was surprised whenever people chose to stay, chose him, was too scared of risking it.

He played it off as tiredness, though he was fairly sure neither of them were convinced. But they were, as previously stated, good people, and didn’t push him on it. Instead they fussed from a distance, placing a cup of tea on the coffee table next to him without asking, or putting an old match re-run on in the background as they got on with their individual activities in the evening.

Hell, Sherlock had even complimented him about his idea of luring the murderers to 221B again.

As much as the quiet affection from the others warmed him, however, it was underpinned by a swell of guilt each time. That voice in the back of his mind told him that he didn’t deserve the care and attention. He’d been an awful son to both of his parents, and was wallowing in self-pity and keeping the truth of it a secret like a coward.

He tried to contest it – his mum had said herself that she was fine, and that he shouldn’t beat himself up over it. But every time he tried to remember that – to cling to it as if it were a rope – the self-loathing twined around his legs even further, pulling him deeper to the point where he was starting to lose sight of the surface.

He was almost relieved when he made it to bedtime and was able to hide away in his room again without being questioned. Perhaps he just needed a night to process things, and he’d be a bit more level-headed on how to resolve it all when he woke up?

He should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.

He was at his early 10th birthday again, and his dad was in goal. He aimed, kicked, and watched in excitement as the ball just skimmed past his dad into goal. He’d scored!

But when he turned his attention to his dad again to brag about it, something was wrong. His dad’s mouth was moving, but he… couldn’t hear it.

He couldn’t hear his dad’s voice.

What did it sound like again? Was his voice on the higher end of the register like his, or deeper like Sherlock’s? Was there an accent?

He couldn’t hear his dad’s voice.

His appearance was the next to go. Between one blink and the next, he couldn’t remember the colour of his dad’s eyes any more. His features started blurring, fading away one by one. His hair, the shirt he’d been wearing, how tall he’d been.

Panicked, John reached out, flinging himself forwards to grasp at the figure that had replaced his father between the goalposts. It was too late, however – as his hand went to make contact, it passed through as if cutting through smoke, the edges of it curling up and away from him.

The form of Harry Watson dissipated.

He was gone, and John had no memory to cling to.

A distant sobbing noise caught his attention, and he wheeled around to see his mother. Not as she’d been back then – how she’d looked when he’d last seen her. He tried to go to her, but she took a step back, her bloodshot eyes meeting his as she scowled at him.

“How could you?!” she screamed at him, cheeks soaked by tears and hands clenched to her chest, “How could you forget him? How could you leave me?”

“Mum-”

She didn’t hear him. Instead, she turned and stalked away, out of the garden and into the distance. He tried to follow her, but he couldn’t move his legs. He tried to call after her, but when he opened his mouth no sound escaped.

Like his father, Carol Watson faded away.

Like his mother, John Watson was abandoned.

He was alone.

He didn’t come to awareness with a yell, the way he often did with night terrors.

Instead, John woke quietly, tears streaming down his face onto the pillow and chest aching with loss.

Once he realised it had been a dream, he climbed out of bed, turning on the desk lamp and reaching for the photo of his dad. He stared at it, taking in every minute detail as the memory – his actual memory – flooded back again. His dad’s eyes were hazel, like his. He’d been wearing his Star Wars t-shirt and shorts on the day, and his voice when he’d praised John for his penalty skills had been warm and slightly nasal.

Overwhelmed by the sheer relief that he still remembered, John’s body shook as he began to sob. He hugged the photo frame to his chest, biting his lip in an attempt to be quiet so as not to disturb Sherlock the next room over.

He felt like he was still drowning in that ice-water lake, still trying to claw his way to the surface but unable to. The same trapped feeling from his nightmare bled into his waking mind, leaving him powerless to do anything but cry as his thoughts spiralled.

He’d remembered this time, but what if he woke up another night and didn’t? He didn’t have any videos of his dad – his mum had never been able to afford a video camera when he was younger, all they had were disposable camera photos.

And his mum – he knew she’d put on a brave face often enough when he was a kid, both when his dad had been deployed and after he’d passed. She’d been inconsolable when the news first reached them – the neighbours had come over to look after them both once they’d heard Harry Watson had died – but she’d fought to keep herself together for him in the weeks, months that followed.

What if she had been putting that mask back on again to protect his feelings when she’d told him she was OK? He was torn between the urge to take the next train to Swindon to see her and the worry that if he did so, his fear that she was actually suffering would be confirmed.

He felt exhausted, and curled back up on the bed with the photo frame still gripped tight. The murky depths of his emotions dragged him under, and he fell asleep feeling like he’d never be warm again.

His lack of proper sleep was impossible to hide that next morning, and the concern from the others was even more palpable. John could barely make himself respond to anything, unable to even try and muster up a laugh as Archie rolled off the sofa whilst asleep.

Eventually, Mariana couldn’t take it any longer.

“OK, that’s it – what’s going on, John? You called your mum yesterday - is she OK?”

John swallowed, equally relieved and anxious that the topic was coming up. He took a steadying breath before responding, trying to twitch his lips into a facsimile of a smile.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” he replied, “Talked my ear off about Tockenham’s hot goss , as usual.”

“Oh yeah? Any more news on Charlie’s mysterious beau?”

“Nah, they’ve kept pretty tight-lipped on- wait, hang on, how do you know about that?”

“We catch up pretty often, John. She asks me to give her updates on what you’re up to, given you won’t tell her any details yourself.” Mariana replied, smirking at him.

Usually, he’d sputter indignantly at the comment, but the mention of his usual avoidance made him feel even worse.

Mariana noticed, and her smirk disappeared quickly, replaced with a greater look of concern. She stepped forwards, leaning against the kitchen table he was sitting at and placing a hand against his arm. “Seriously, come on. What’s wrong?”

He sighed again, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling in order to avoid her gaze. “It’s stupid. It’s just… Thursday was dad’s birthday. And I was so distracted getting the episode uploaded, I didn’t realise the date. I forgot my dad’s birthday, Mariana.”

“Oh, John…” she bent forwards, pulling him into a hug.

“I’m so sorry.” she murmured against his temple, and John squeezed his eyes closed to avoid crying again. He pressed his head against her shoulder, taking deep breaths in order to try and calm himself.

“I usually call mum on the day, check in on her. Even when I was on my tours, I did my best to secure a video call on the day, or at least send an email.” he explained, absently processing the shuffling noise from the doorway indicating that Sherlock had just arrived in the kitchen, “Every year – and when I was home with her, I’d buy her some flowers or chocolate or something. But I didn’t this year. I didn’t think to, because I didn’t remember.”

“Was she disappointed? Is that why you’re feeling upset?” Mariana asked, letting go to lean against the table again and face him. He looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

“She says she’s OK, but-”

“But you don’t really believe her. Or, at least, your anxiety is telling you she’s lying.” Sherlock’s voice chimed in, finishing the thought. The detective circled around, taking the chair across the table from him, piercing eyes studying him intently.

Unable to speak through the lump in his throat, John nodded.

“Oh John, I’m sure she’s alright. It’s been over twenty years, right? And if you’re still feeling awful, maybe you could do something belated?” Mariana suggested, rubbing his arm soothingly.

Above his head, where the surface of the lake glittered faintly, a shape formed.

A life ring.

John reached for it, finding it to be just out of reach. But it was there .

“Do something…?” he rasped, turning to look at Mariana. She nodded, and the ring bobbed a little closer.

“You mentioned flowers – you know, I saw an advert the other day for a company that sends same-day delivery bouquets. You order one, and they’ll send the request to a local florist who can deliver them to the address you provide.”

This time, his fingertips brushed against the edge. Feeling slightly renewed, John kicked at the knot of doubts around his ankles, trying to free himself.

“She’s always loved dahlias,” he murmured, “do you think there’s a chance they’d have those?”

“They do generally bloom in Autumn,” Sherlock pointed out, “and whilst they have multiple meanings assigned to them within the language of flowers, one of those is ‘inner strength’. Sounds like a fitting choice.”

Something sliced through the vines around him, and his next kick brought him closer to the surface. And, as he searched on his phone and found an offer for a bouquet of mixed dahlias available for delivery in Wiltshire, his hand made contact with the ring and clung to it.

“Oh they’re absolutely gorgeous , sweetheart! Judy from across the road looked jealous as anything when that cute delivery lad came by with all these flowers for me! Bet she’ll be grumbling away at the next bake sale.”

“I’m glad you like them, mum.” he replied, breathing slightly easier at the happiness in her voice.

“I’d love anything from you, love, you could get me a £2 bouquet from Tesco and I’d be thrilled. But they really are beautiful.” she took a breath, before adding, “I’ve placed them in your dad’s favourite vase, on the kitchen table. Brightening up the room, as always. Oh! Speaking of brightening up, you’ll never guess...”

John listened to his mum chat away, somehow able to find even more things to talk to him about only one day later. Soon enough though, she said her goodbyes, explaining how she was meeting up with some of the book club for a couple of drinks.

“You tell Mariana and your Sherlock that I say hi, won’t you?”

“He’s not- I- alright, mum. Will do, I’m sure they say hi back. In fact, you know Mariana does, since apparently you two chat now!”

“Oh don’t worry too much, lovey, I’m keeping all the embarrassing childhood stories to a minimum! Toodles, love you!”

“Love you too- wait, what do you mean childhood- aaand she hung up.” he sighed in frustration, but aside from the concern that Mariana knew stories he’d wanted to keep buried he felt far more at ease than the last time he’d ended a call with his mum.

He wasn’t completely recovered yet – he was out of the lake, but the ice-water was still clinging to him, keeping him chilled. He was out of danger, though, and from the noises coming through the door to his room he suspected he’d be feeling even closer to normal by the end of the evening. Mariana had called an emergency movie night after his flower order had been placed, and had promptly ran out the door to gather supplies. He hadn’t seen her since – had spent most of the morning and early afternoon taking Archie for a long walk around the park – but he’d heard her shuffling around 221A as he’d climbed the stairs past her door.

Plugging his phone in to charge, he left to join the others in the living room.

He walked out to see bowls of popcorn on the table, pillows and cushions clearly raided from bedrooms scattered across the sofa and armchair, and the TV on, paused on-

“Is that Back To The Future ?”

“Yeah, seemed like a good choice for an impromptu film night.” Mariana confirmed, flopping into the armchair – her usual viewing spot – and tilting her head towards the sofa.

Sherlock had settled into his normal half of the sofa at the same time, and met John’s eyes from across the room. “You mentioned, once, that your father enjoyed the trilogy. That he’d watched them back-to-back a few times.”

John swallowed, taking a steadying breath at the rush of emotion that hit him. “Y-yeah, he-” he cleared his throat, working his jaw for a moment before carrying on, “he really loved sci-fi movies. Apparently he dreamed about getting a DeLorean for years after the movie came out. Mum says when I was born he’d argued the cause for me to be called Marty – Martin, legally, of course – but she shot that down pretty quickly.”

“Good thing, too – imagine being Martin “Marty” Watson!” Mariana teased, “You’d have been stuck with some stupid nickname like, I don’t know… Martian? MegaWats?”

“Hey! I’d have rocked the nickname MegaWats! Could have been known for my electric personality, eh?” he replied, grinning as he dodged the cushion Mariana flung at him whilst booing.

Sherlock sent them both an unimpressed look, but there was a barely-contained sparkle of humour in his eyes. The sight of it alone helped to ease some of the permafrost chill – he could feel his fingers again, and used them to retrieve the cushion from where it had landed.

The next moment, it hit Mariana with a satisfying ‘ thump ’. She squawked in mock-outrage, but before she could send it back Sherlock cleared his throat.

“Perhaps we can get on with watching the film now that we’re all gathered?”

Chuckling again, John settled onto the sofa and grabbed one of the bowls of popcorn. After some shuffling around, everyone was settled and Mariana hit ‘play’.

Mariana mentioned that she’d seen the movie once, years ago, but that she hadn’t really paid attention to the plot of it before. Sherlock appeared to be caught somewhere between bafflement and outrage at the storyline.

Now and again, John found himself pointing out something about the movie that reminded him of his dad – like how his childhood dog had been called ‘Einstein’ after the Doc’s dog. That had caused Mariana to demand to see photos of ‘Einstein Watson’, which John promised to find when he next went back to Tockenham.

Between those moments, however, John zoned out of the movie, having seen it so many times he didn’t need to focus on it. Instead, he switched between watching the screen and watching the other two.

These two people, who had known him less than a year and yet felt closer to him than any friends he’d made in the past. Who had listened to his worries and had put in the effort to try and support him. Who had remembered his dad’s favourite movie after one conversation, and had gone to the effort of setting up a movie night to watch it with him in the hopes he’d feel better.

And he did – he’d felt the tension leaving him as the movie progressed, breathing coming easier as he listened to Mariana laughing at the Doc’s antics, or Sherlock’s outrage at the idea a car would vanish into another point in time at just 88mph. A glowing warmth forming at his core, pressing outwards and chasing the chill he’d been trapped with since he’d first spotted the date on his phone.

As the movie came to its conclusion, with the DeLorean vanishing into the sky as the credits started to roll, Mariana sat up and stretched, yawning as she tiredly rubbed at her eyes with one hand.

“Right, I think I’ll leave you boys to it. Have a good night’s sleep, whenever you both eventually go.”

“Good night, Mariana – and thank you, again, for everything.”

She stepped over, ruffling his hair before bending down to press a light kiss to his forehead. “Of course, John. You’re one of my best friends, I wouldn’t leave you to suffer alone. I’m just glad you got around to telling us what was going on.”

“Yeah – sorry for worrying you. Have a good night!”

“You too. Night, Sherlock!”

“Mm, good night Mrs Hudson.”

The other two rolled their eyes at each other, before Mariana let herself out of the door. John heard her descend the steps, before the familiar sound of her flat’s door closing.

He knew he needed to call it a night – he hadn’t had all that much sleep the night before – but he couldn’t make himself get up.

“You’re avoiding going to bed. You’re still upset by something.”

John flinched, turning to face Sherlock. The other was studying him, looking concerned.

“I… what?”

Sherlock nodded towards his hands, drawing John’s attention to how he was picking at his nails. A nervous habit of his, and one that the consulting detective was well aware of.

He shrugged self-consciously. “It’s stupid, Sherlock. Don’t worry, I’ll get over it.”

“If it’s causing you enough upset to block you from going to bed when you’re clearly exhausted, it’s not ‘stupid’. What is it?” his gaze was zeroed on his face, now, kaleidoscopic eyes taking in every detail as if he was studying an elaborate painting.

Knowing it was futile trying to lie to him, he closed his eyes, trying to figure out how to explain.

“I just… worry, Sherlock. What if this is just the first sign that I’m starting to forget him? He’s my dad, he was the love of mum’s life, what if I start to forget more than just his birthday? What if I forget his face, or the sound of his voice, or all the other details I’ve tried so hard to keep hold of?”

A lightbulb seemed to go off in Sherlock’s head. “You had a nightmare last night. Not night terrors, not memories of the war or the bomb. It was about your father, about forgetting him.”

John sighed, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, mate. I, uh… I dreamt that I forgot him, that everything I had stored in my head disappeared. As I said, it was stupid.”

“Yes, it was.”

John’s head shot up to stare at Sherlock, hurt by the comment. Sherlock met his gaze, however, and continued. “It was stupid, because it’s not something that would ever happen. Nightmares often are nonsensical – a culmination of negative images your psyche produces as it sorts through everything you’ve taken in. This one is no different.”

“How can you be so sure, though? I already forgot his birthday, who knows what will slip my mind next time?”

Sherlock’s gaze flickered over him, eyebrows drawn together in thought. After a moment, he seemed to reach the internal conclusion he was working towards, because he nodded slightly before meeting his eyes again.

“It’s not possible, because there are various behaviours and interests of yours that display the ways in which you remember your father. Would you like me to prove it?”

John’s heart skipped a beat, cautious hope forming. He trusted Sherlock, knew the detective never said something he did not mean. Not to him.

“Please.”

Sherlock nodded again, before looking away. His eyes flickered around the room, before focusing in on the muted TV, displaying an old re-run of Match of the Day.

“Your chosen support of Swindon Town is one indicator.” He began, eyes looking towards the screen but somewhat distant. John had seen this behaviour multiple times before when Sherlock had been processing things internally, figuring out how to vocalise his thoughts. He watched quietly, taking in how the light from the screen highlighted his features. After a pause, Sherlock found his words and continued.

“Whilst I don’t know a great deal in the way of sports teams, I know tat people will generally select their favourites for three key reasons. Either it’s their home town’s team, a team that is especially successful, or the individual grew up in a household where that team were already being supported.

“Your support of Swindon Town FC is a combination of the first and third reasons. From what I gather of the league tables – and your various outbursts of frustration – it is safe to rule out that Swindon’s team could be considered ‘successful’.”

“Oi!” John protested, jokingly. Sherlock glanced at him, flashing a boyish grin before continuing.

“So, focusing on those two reasons. Swindon is geographically the closest town with a larger, more well-known team, true, but Bristol isn’t too far away and both of their teams appear to be doing rather better in the league. So that would indicate the need for another reason.

“That other reason was something I noted when we visited your childhood home a few months ago. Amongst the various trinkets and wall decorations in the living room was a signed Swindon Town FC shirt, dated from 1985. Four years before you were born, and not something you brought with you to London, so not yours. No other visible team memorabilia around the house outside of your old room, so not Carol’s. Ergo, it belonged to your father. He was a Swindon Town supporter and, because of that, you grew up to be one, too.”

“What else?” John asked, “Supporting a football team doesn’t really seem that solid, if I’m honest.”

“Your music tastes,” Sherlock replied, shifting sideways on the sofa to face John more directly. John shuffled to match him.

“What about them?”

“In a similar vein to sports teams, many children will develop a fondness for music they heard growing up. Your taste is very eclectic – despite your tendency to sing that waterfall song whenever you’re brushing your teeth after a good day – but there’s a clear preference for the genres of rock and pop, often older tunes rather than the ones playing in the charts now.

“On days where the topic of parents arises – be that Mrs Hudson speaking to her father back in Spain, or a case that focuses on a parent-child relationship – you have a tendency to listen to certain artists and songs more often.

“Another observation I made in the home, past the football shirt, was the shelf of CDs above the sofa. Mostly bands and artists from an older time, based on the designs on the spines that I could see. A few names I recognised from the playlists you’ve shown me before. The CDs themselves haven’t moved in some time – the spines facing the room were clear, as was the shelf they’re on, but the tops of them were coated in a layer of dust. They’re in an awkward position, being above the sofa. When dusting, your mother runs the cloth along the shelf and the section she can easily reach, but does not make the extra effort to reach higher to dust the top.

“The CDs aren’t hers – they are your father’s collection. And on those days when you play certain tracks more often, those songs are from artists that appear on that shelf. You are thinking of Harry Watson, and listen to songs that remind you of him as a way to feel closer to him.”

They had drifted closer together without John realising. John took a shaky breath at the wash of emotions brought on by how much Sherlock had observed of him without him even realising. However, he still wasn’t convinced.

“A lot of people listen to the music they grew up with, though. That doesn’t necessarily make it about me remembering my dad.”

“A fair counterpoint – well-reasoned, well done Watson.” the detective replied, offering him another smile. “In that case, I’ll move on to something more specific. How about the way you hold cutlery?”

“What?”

“When using a knife and fork, you hold the knife in your left hand and the fork in your right. If it were only a fork you were using, it could be excused away, as it could be if you were left-handed or ambidextrous. But you aren’t – you’re right-handed.”

Sherlock reached across, taking John’s left hand between his own. One wrapped across the ends of his fingers, whilst the other took his wrist in a gentle grip, just below the tan-line from where his watch usually sat.

They’d held hands before, but this felt different – more tender, more intimate somehow. Sherlock’s fingers were cool, but points of heat emanated from every point of contact between them. He swallowed nervously, turning his attention back to Sherlock, whose eyes were still focused on his wrist.

“You wear your watch on your left wrist, and favour picking things up with your right hand – your dominant one. Carol is the same, from what I have seen of her, and appliances around your childhood home were in positions favoured by right-handed people. The handle of the kettle pointing to the right, for example. So, why do you hold cutlery with the technique often used by left-handed people? Because you grew up mimicking someone who was left-handed: Harry Watson.”

“How can you tell?” John asked, hushed. Sherlock’s thumb swept gently over the tan-line, and John’s breath hitched.

“In photos of your father, I could see a watch on his right wrist,” the detective explained, his thumb continuing to brush over the pulse of John’s wrist. “There was also a particular photo of him holding a rifle – a training session based on his uniform and the surroundings – which had his left pointer finger held against the trigger.

“Harry Watson was left-handed, and you learnt to copy him in the way you held cutlery, despite being right-handed like your mother. You still do it today. It’s a habit you share with him. One you aren’t doing consciously, meaning it’s written into your subconscious – something that’s very unlikely to change.”

Sherlock’s fingers squeezed around his own, and John squeezed back, before using his other hand to adjust their grip so that their palms were touching. He placed his free hand on top of Sherlock’s, their conjoined hands a source of heat that warmed him through.

“Then of course, there’s the photo on your desk.” the detective continued. His voice sounded slightly unsteady, and a light flush had started to form across his cheeks. John stared, entranced.

“You are a sentimental man, and have a few important photos in your room. But specifically, it’s the one of you and your father I want to bring up.

“It’s faded, the colour desaturated in parts but otherwise undamaged. Sunlight damage. Photographs can start to fade when exposed to sunlight, due to UV rays. Given the age of the photo and the state that it’s in – plus the fact that it’s current position on your desk avoids any sunlight reaching it – I can deduce it’s been out on display near-constantly since it was first developed.

“Your room in the house was covered in posters and photos, but only a few have made it to London with you. One is of your mother and people that I believe are your grandparents, based on similarities in features. One is the photo you have of us, Mrs Hudson and Archie from a few months ago. And the third is you and your father.”

Squeezing his hand again, Sherlock continued. “It’s a treasured photo, and one you clearly rely on. You think of your father often, and care deeply about the visual reminder. This leads me on to my final deduction.”

“Which is?” John breathed.

“You are not adept at remembering dates. In fact, you keep nearly every date that’s important to you on your calendar. Friends’ birthdays, anniversaries, special events. You have nearly all of them written down – to help you remember them. But not your parents’ birthdays.

“This is because they are so important to you that you have managed to remember them, unprompted, every single year. You said it yourself: this was the very first time you forgot your father’s birthday.”

Sherlock’s eyes locked with his, gaze intense and earnest. John felt like he was unable to breathe again, but this time the feeling didn’t scare him.

He was with Sherlock: he could never be truly scared of anything so long as he was there.

“Do you understand the importance of that?” Sherlock continued, “That fact, alongside all the others, combine to provide only one possible answer. You care deeply about your parents, especially your father, and his memory is so completely entwined with your day-to-day life that you will never be able to truly forget him.

“Mistakes happen, John, you’re human. But you resolved it as soon as you realised. A bad son would have stopped caring years ago, wouldn’t be so hung up on this that he suffered nightmares from it. You love them so much that you have continued to remember, even during some of the most stressful times of your life. You have faced so much pain, so many events that would make a weaker man crumble, and you have continued to think of your parents, remember them, and care .

“You’re a good son, John. You are a good man, and Harry Watson would be proud of you.”

Eyes stinging, John let go of Sherlock’s hands to pull him into a hug, ensuring to wrap his arms around the other’s upper back. He pressed his face against Sherlock’s neck, taking deep breaths to avoid crying. He felt Sherlock’s arms twine around him in return, pulling him closer.

With that final confirmation, all of the remaining despair left him, melting away under the blazing heat of Sherlock’s conviction. John doubted he’d ever feel cold again, so long as he was close to the man shining like the sun in his arms.

He pulled back after a while, but was reluctant to move away. Instead he studied his friend’s face. They were so close, he could feel the other’s breath against his cheek, could pick out the multitude of colours in his eyes.

“Sherlock…” he began, biting at his lip anxiously. Sherlock’s eyes flickered down, zoning in on his mouth, and he watched the detective swallow.

“ John. ”

Without thinking about it, one of John’s hands rose to gently cup his face. Sherlock’s breath stuttered, his eyes closing as he pressed into the touch. It was John’s turn to swallow, his thumb absently smoothing against the other’s cheekbone.

The signs were all there, but he had to be certain that he wasn’t reading into things.

Truthfully, John felt as though he and Sherlock had been circling around each other over the past few months. He’d become aware of it after he’d been shot by Abe Slaney, in the following weeks where Sherlock had hovered and fussed in his own way.

He noticed how they’d both hold onto each other perhaps a little longer than necessary, how they’d had more quiet, gentle conversations away from the recording on his microphone, how sometimes he’d stare at Sherlock only to realise he was staring back.

The emotional rollercoaster that had been seeing Carrie again had left him scared – scared that Carrie’s words would bring his myriad flaws to the surface and Sherlock would observe them and decide he wasn’t worth it.

However, Sherlock hadn’t seemed to pay it any mind. If anything, the lingering touches and quiet stares had increased, to the point where a day without coming into contact left John feeling unsettled.

Bringing himself back to the moment, John took a breath, and released it shakily.

He had to be certain, and for that he had to be brave.

“Sherlock,” he began again, pausing as the other’s eyes fluttered open again to meet his, “I want to be clear, you can say no. If you aren’t interested, or- or anything, say no and I won’t bring it up again.”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed slightly, eyes darting across his face. After a moment, he blinked, eyes widening slightly in realisation. “Are you-”

Be brave, John.

“Can I… can I kiss you?” he asked, voice wobbling.

He watched, awed, as the other’s cheeks flushed red. As his pupils dilated, and he licked his lips before replying.

“ Please .”

The second that word had left Sherlock’s mouth, John closed the gap between them. His other hand rose up, joining the first in cradling the other’s face as if he were made of crystal. Sherlock kissed him back almost immediately, one hand curling against the nape of his neck as the other was placed between his shoulders.

John Watson had enjoyed his fair share of kisses in the past, but none of them held a candle to his first time kissing Sherlock Holmes.

After an indeterminate amount of time, John pulled away, pressing light kisses to Sherlock’s cheeks, his nose, his temple, before returning to his lips again. Sherlock hummed into the kiss, the hand at his nape pushing up to card through his hair whilst the other hand pulled the doctor closer to him.

Eventually needing to breathe, John pulled back again only to press his forehead against Sherlock’s, awed by the dazed expression on the other’s face. His hands slid down from his jaw to his shoulders, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into Sherlock’s collarbone.

“Was that- was that OK?” he found himself asking, a twist of nervousness in his gut despite everything.

Sherlock brushed their lips together again briefly in response, before rubbing his cheek against John’s in a way that absently reminded the doctor of a cat nuzzling. It was oddly endearing – something that John thought often about the consulting detective.

Opening his mouth to tell the detective as much, he was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn. He felt Sherlock chuckling quietly at him and grumbled amicably.

“Alright, alright, it’s not that funny.”

“It rather is, I’m afraid. But it’s understandable, you’re already running on fewer hours sleep than your body is used to, and emotional stress can be exhausting.” Sherlock replied, pressing another gentle kiss against his temple before moving back. John missed the warmth almost immediately.

“But I don’t wanna go to bed, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months!” he whined, too tired to be embarrassed by his own honesty. Another pretty flush formed over Sherlock’s face, and his expression flickered from surprise to amusement.

“I’ve wanted the same. But I promise you can kiss me again in the morning.”

John blinked, waking up a little at the implication. They hadn’t explicitly defined anything, but did that mean…?

“What about the day after? Do you promise I can kiss you then, too?”

Sherlock gave him a look that was so tender, so full of warmth and affection that he was worried he’d start crying again.

“I promise,” he vowed, quiet but emphatic, “tomorrow, the day after… as many days as you want.”

Well, in for a penny…

“All of them. I want all of them, if that’s what you want too.”

Another kiss, lingering.

“Nothing would make me happier, John.”

__________

Check it out on AO3 too!

#sherlock & co #sherlock and co #fanart #fanfiction #john watson #sherlock holmes #mariana ametxazurra #event #flash bang #flashbang event

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whxre4hange · 16 days ago

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attack on titan characters playing league headcanons

guys im in my final year of my undergrad and i have exams and this is what im doing w my time LMAO

eren (ultimate rage quitter)

eren is the ultimate tryhard. bro mains riven and screams into the group call "i will carry!" he charges into fights like he’s fighting titans, only to get instantly melted. after dying for the fifth time, you can hear him scream into the mike, “i’m not mad, i’m just... passionate! WE GOT THIS GUYS DONT GIVE UP” while furiously typing “ff 15” in chat.

mikasa the overprotective bodyguard

mikasa is the ultimate support, but she’s less about healing and more about throwing daggers at anyone who dares touch eren. if someone tries to gank him, she’ll sprint across the map like a ninja, yelling, “no one touches my eren!” while simultaneously saving him from certain doom… and then getting herself killed in the process.

armin the strategist (and coward)

armin is the brains of the operation, but he spends half the game hiding in a bush, whispering strategies to himself. when he finally decides to engage, he shouts, “guys! let’s flank them!” only for everyone to be dead by the time he finishes his sentence. he’s basically a walking “how not to play” guide.

sasha the snack master

sasha is the adc, but her real focus is on her snack stash. she’s munching on chips while trying to farm minions and will often say things like, “just one more potato chip before i go back!” she ends up feeding because she can’t resist grabbing a snack during team fights. “i’m just… multitasking!”

connie the confused support

connie thinks he’s playing support, but he keeps accidentally stealing kills with his abilities. when everyone yells at him, he responds with a confused, “but i thought we were playing catch!” he’s just trying to help, bless his little heart.

jean's leadership failures

jean wants to be team captain (literally no one cares) and constantly tries to direct everyone like he’s leading a military operation. “okay, guys! we need a five-man engage!” but when eren charges in solo again, jean just facepalms and mutters, “why do i even try?”

marco the cheerleader

marco is the wholesome cheerleader of the group. he’s always encouraging everyone with phrases like, “good job, team! you can do it!” unfortunately, he gets so distracted by his own positivity that he forgets to ward properly and walks straight into a bush full of enemies. “oops! my bad!”

reiner's tanking fail

reiner plays tank but thinks he’s invincible. he charges into fights yelling, “i’m here to save you!” only to get one-shot by an enemy assassin. his teammates are left screaming, “we needed you alive for that!”

ymir's sneaky shenanigans

ymir plays an assassin and loves sneaking around for picks. she’ll shout things like, “i’m going in!” but then accidentally reveals her position by stepping on a ward. when historia asks her what happened, she just shrugs and says, “it was tactical misdirection!”

annie’s solo queue dominance

annie is a solo queue legend who plays mid-lane like it’s her personal arena. she rolls her eyes at her teammates’ antics and mutters things like, “if you all just let me carry…” she has zero patience for anyone who doesn’t understand how to play properly—and she’ll mute them faster than you can say “teamwork.”

bertolt's unexpected support skills

birthcontrol is surprisingly good at support, using his size as an accidental shield for his teammates. when someone asks how he does it, he just says softly, “i’m just… really good at standing still.” and somehow that works....

erwin's confusing speeches

erwin gives motivational speeches before every match that leave everyone more confused than inspired. “remember: victory is not just about winning; it’s about… uh… being brave?” anywyas by the end of it, everyone is just staring blankly at him while eren types in chat: “can we just play already?”

hange's chaotic jungle adventures

hange plays jungle with chaotic energy that keeps everyone on their toes. they dive into fights yelling, “let’s go! science rules!” but often end up accidentally initiating fights they can’t win. then they die spectacularly the end

levi's silent judgment

levi lurks in the background, silently judging everyone while occasionally throwing out sarcastic comments like, “great job feeding.” when asked why he doesn’t play more often, he simply replies with a deadpan stare: "because i don’t want to ruin my kda." and yet somehow still manages to carry every game when he does play

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michaelsfavgirl · 10 months ago

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‎‧₊˚✧[navigation]✧˚₊‧

˖⁺‧₊˚🎞️✮☎️✮🧸˚₊‧⁺˖ Welcome <3

Blog info, about me, masterlist, my socials, tag system, request rules & and taglist can be found here.

⁎₊✧˚ masterlist tiktok twitter wattpad AO3 ˚✧₊⁎

— If you want to be added to my taglist please comment under this post

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ Before you continue ⟡˚౨ৎ⋆

✎ᝰ! MDNI + DNI if you're racist, homophobic, sexist/misogynistic, transphobic, ableist, xenophobic, fatphobic etc. Any hate will be blocked/ignored. I will not tolerate any kind of discrimination.

✎ᝰ! English is not my first language, therefore, there may be minor mistakes in my writing.

✎ᝰ! This blog will include nsfw material, such as smutty fanfics or me just thirsting over mike lol. So viewer discretion is advised. If this makes you uncomfortable do not engage with my blog, simply block me and move on. Any negativity will be deleted.

✎ᝰ! Keep in mind that I am a university student so I may not be able to publish fics as frequently as you'd like. Be patient with me pls and thank you. (๑･̑◡･̑๑)

✎ᝰ! To add to that if your request hasn’t been answered it’s not because I’m ignoring it but probably because I have someone else’s (who requested earlier) to post before yours. Again, please be patient.

✎ᝰ! I hope you enjoy your time here! My blog is a safe, judgment-free space for anyone who chooses to visit.

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✎ᝰ! The support and mdni banners are from @cafekitsune

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ About me ⟡˚౨ৎ⋆

✎ᝰ! My name is Kate, I'm nineteen, a Taurus and from West Asia.

✎ᝰ! I have been a fan of Michael Jackson since I was a child but I became a part of the fandom around 2019. My man is my no. 1 on Spotify every single year (yup, yup).

✎ᝰ! I actually had a book on wattpad about mike a few years ago and it was HURRENDEOUS, but I promise that my writing abilities have gotten better :)

✎ᝰ! Please feel free to send me anything in my inbox. (questions, requests, or if you want to simply chat anonymously) I would love to make friends on here and chat with my fellow moonwalkers! So don't hesitate. <3

Here are some random facts about me:

✎ᝰ! My hobbies: watching films, feeding into my delusions (writing fics about michael), playing the guitar, skiing, doing my makeup.

✎ᝰ! My top 5 musicians: Michael Jackson (obvi), Madonna, Queen, Nina Simone, Amy Winehouse.

✎ᝰ! My favorite films: Portrait of a lady on fire, Amelie, Mary & Max, The shape of water, The grand Budapest hotel and Knives out.

✎ᝰ! More facts: i LOVE cinema, it is an art form that should be cherished forever, professional procrastinator, reality shifter, fav color is green, big pop culture nerd, a little acoustic (autistic), addicted to watching edits on tiktok.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ Request rules ⟡˚౨ৎ⋆

✎ᝰ! For now I only write for mj.

✎ᝰ! I will write: smut, fluff, angst, fem!reader, plus-size!reader, most kinks tbh (just ask don't be shy), creampies, dp, somnophilia, ddlg (sexual and non sexual), voyeurism/exhibitionism, watersports, age difference as long as both are of age, threesomes (only mmf).

✎ᝰ! I won't write: male/trans/non-binary!reader, ocs (I only write x reader), hard kinks, knife/gun kink, scat kink, drug consumption, pedophilia, rape, breeding kink, pregnant!reader, pregnancy kink, incest/stepcest, mommy kink, sub!michael, pegging, dom!reader, abuse, degradation kink.

✎ᝰ! Requests are always open unless stated otherwise in my bio.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ My tag system ⟡˚౨ৎ⋆

✎ᝰ! For answering asks: annie’s calling

✎ᝰ! For my writing: kate's writing

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✎ᝰ! For misc. posts: wanna be startin somethin

✎ᝰ! For reblogs: reblog

Last updated: August 15th, 2024

Thank you so much for reading! Have a wonderful day/night. ✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ

#navigation #blog info #blog navigation #about me #tag system #request rules #masterlist #taglist #tiktok #wattpad #twitter #michael jackson #ao3

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claudevonrieganstan · 2 years ago

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if i ever actually get the motivation to draw ever i want to draw the solm girlies as like. actually brown skinned. why are the leaders of solm and also all the villagers we see brown skinned, but then ALL the other named characters are white like that's so embarrassing actually

#mine #there shouldn't be the same number of solmic redheads #as there are. brown people 😶#and like the villagers too!! it's clear they wanted this to feel MENA #so. why blondes and red heads #i mean racism. is the answer why #but boooooo that's stupid timerra and fogado are black everyone else should be too #annie plays engage #engage

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moonspirit · 28 days ago

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Hi! I'm the same Anon who asked about the hypothetical situation of Annie NOT crystalising herself and the other possible set of events occurring. I read your thoughts and I honestly never even thought about another Kenny and Annie reunion and just.. talking, quite interesting! (Not to mention Pam's own idea that they wrote - I like it!) Including another mentioning a fic where Annie sees her Dad as a Titan during the second Colossal Titan attack and.. I may had a pretty devious idea. So, let's say Annie did in some way join the Scouts (or just is betraying the Warriors,) so during the mission to retake Shinganshina and there's the scene where Zeke & the mindless Titan's appear, what if one of those mindless creatures was her Dad? (This next part, I'm somewhat iffy since it really feels I mis-characterised her since I tend to mess up, so my apologies!) I'm not sure HOW it could play out then, maybe Annie in some desperate attempt to hold her Dad down so it's not mauled by Levi or Zeke. Though, one thing is clear, she sees the Colossal Titan going down and realises that in some selfish way.. she could bring her Dad back, it'll be a curse he'll bare too but at least she'll see him. And oh.. That's Armin. Completely charred, yet still breathing. With the Scouts debating whenever to save Erwin or Armin. This is all I have before I genuinely write more nonsense, I appreciate taking your time to answer my previous question. Please, have a lovely day! (AND I'M SO SORRY FOR HOW WORDY THIS IS)

Oohhhh hello again anon! I'm honestly so relieved you saw my answer because you sent me the ask on sept 19th and... I took nearly a month to answer - very sorry T^T But I enjoyed it so much and yes, the variety of thoughts on it have been incredibly interesting!

Some quick things first tho 1. you don't have to apologise for a long-ask, they are genuinely enjoyable xD 2. I don't think there's such a thing as mis-characterization especially when we talk about a completely new what-if scenario because there's soooooo many little things influencing a person's thoughts and actions and the resultant outcomes. So nope, there are only headcanons, they are all valid, and you don't need to worry about anything else :>

Now to your ask!

🙃

How dare you now bring THREE contenders for the serum with Annie in the mess? Erwin, I don't see her caring for, but now it's Armin vs. her Dad?

What in the gut-wrenching angst is this, holy shit anon 🥲

But no, genuinely I don't think Annie trying to protect her father from Levi's attacks is out of character for her. That is her DAD. She may have joined the Scouts as you say, but maybe that's because it's her best chance for survival. Betraying the warriors isn't Annie's concern, it's betraying her dad. At any cost, even by joining the scouts, she must return to him.

Only, she probably didn't expect to see him in Paradis, and as a titan no less.

Of course she's abandoning everything else (let's say she doesn't know of Armin's plan) and rushing to protect her father and get him out of the line of fire - perhaps by taking him down in her titan form and dragging him to safety, using her scream to summon other pure titans to whoever is attacking and using the time to do so.

(wait... now I suddenly have the mental picture of Annie and Zeke engaging in a screaming match 🥲)

Her sudden switch in priorities isn't likely to bode well with the others, especially when so much is happening and the Scouts find themselves in a dangerously cornered pinch.

Annie's very good at analyzing a situation and quickly making problem-solving decisions, given two options, she chooses the one in which she has a greater chance of survival (yet sometimes she also willingly walks in to dead ends thanks to her heart, but that's canon). Like leaving Marco on the roof vs saving him, but now..... now we have an extreme situation.

Say she thought immediately crosses her mind - of feeding her father the colossal once she learns it's been taken down. She may not have become attached to Bertholdt as much as she considered him a companion in their mission and someone from home, but he's still... a companion. A fellow warrior.

How do you feed such a person to your father?

And then of course:

That's Armin. Completely charred, yet still breathing.

How do you save your father at the cost of losing the one boy who makes your heart beat faster than the wind?

The one boy you swore you'd protect, as long as you wore the wings of freedom by his side.

The one boy who's looked you in the eyes and said I love you.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

#askies #T^T shiganshina just makes me freeze up ANON IT"S HARD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #headcanon #annie leonhart #attack on titan #armin arlert #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #mr. leonhart

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sunshine-overload · 2 months ago

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[BSTS] Heath 5th Anni Eve 4* Card Story

chapter 1 -starless back rooms-

saki: (This piece of paper flew over from somewhere… Oh, it was from the voice training room.)

saki: Uwah, I can’t catch it.

heath: What are you doing?

saki: Oh, Heath-san. That piece of paper flew out of the voice training room.

heath: Oh sorry, that’s mine. I got dragged away by Kongou, so the room has been vacant for a bit. He finally let me go once he saw me eat my lunch… It was a massive serving too.

saki: Fufu, do you have practice now?

heath: I was planning to shut myself away in the voice training room for a while. If you’re interested would you like to join me?

-voice training room-

heath: I should pick all this paper up, my bad.

saki: I’ll help you. Ah, this is…

heath: The the lyrics to ‘Dokuhebi’, the show B performed for the store’s second anniversary. I usually lock myself in here to write new songs, however today I’ve been thinking about that show.

saki: Your second anniversary show you mean?

heath: I’d rather not remember the period of time after the second anniversary up until the new year but it’s not like I could ever forget it either. I caused my team a lot of hardship. But the worst part was being stuck sitting in that hospital bed whilst my words were stolen from me. It was hell.

saki: Heath-san…

heath: My songs are my very soul. By shouting them out into the world, I can prove that I’m alive. That I exist. So that’s why ever since I got discharged from the hospital, I’ve been thinking about my songs… As well as B’s shows.

saki: It’s true that you’ve made every single song for B’s shows.

heath: …Say, what do you think of the current state of B’s performances? Let me know how you honestly feel about them, what is Team B in your eyes?

-choice

They’re really powerful and amazing / They’re really moving / They’re very Team B, I like it

(all options have the same response)

>They’re really powerful and amazing

saki: B’s shows are always really engaging, they’re so powerful and impressive.

heath: I see. If that’s how you see us, then I suppose that’s how Team B are. Thanks, Saki.

chapter 2 -backstage-

heath: The show will be starting soon, did you come to wish me well? I’ll make sure to meet your expectations. I’ll get both the stage and the audience fired up. I’ll put on a show thats power will impress you, kind of like a power play. Don’t go forgetting that, ok?

saki: Heath-san… You’re really motivated today, aren’t you?

heath: I guess so, you could call it that. It’s because seeing your face energises me. To be honest, I had just been thinking, what direction am I trying to take my performances in? But then when I saw your face, the answer came to me.

I can’t always envision tomorrow and yesterday won’t ever come back. All I have is the present. That’s what just clicked for me…

I had two reasons for coming to this store. The first was to give life to my lyrics. And the second was to have those lyrics be heard by those that I want to hear them. Those reasons haven’t changed and won’t ever change… They can’t be changed.

saki: …Heath-san?

heath: I’d like for you to keep watching the way I live my life. Just as you have been up and until now… Please continue doing so.

saki: Of course. I’ll always be here to watch your shows.

heath: Yeah. I’ll do my best. You should get to your seat already, I’m gonna go all out straight out the gate, so make sure you keep up.

saki: I’m looking forward to it. I’ll head to my seat then!

-saki leaves-

heath: ….Saki. I’m different from back then. I won’t let anyone touch my life ever again.*

-stage-

-cg

heath: “Do you think singing hymns will keep you safe? Pride is a machine gun loaded with betrayal. No forgiveness, no groove. In this world you can’t have faith in anything. No forgiveness, no groove. No one’s gonna be fooled by a world like this.”

—end

*The word for ‘life’ that heath uses here is 命 (inochi) which is the word he commonly uses when he calls his songs his life

*Dokuhebi is based on The Brothers Karamazov, Smerdyakov specifically, the ending is lyrics from the song

#bsts translation #bsts heath

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otomiyaa · 30 days ago

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About Reiner

[Fic Reupload] - Listened to the AOT soundtrack and got the feels so randomly felt like reuploading this one.

Summary: Bertholdt has difficulty dealing with Reiner's old, new, and newest personas, and thinks about this while a chaotic tickle fight breaks out during dinner. (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 2.1K

If only dinner time was just... dinner time. Then life at the 104th Training Corps wouldn’t be more difficult than it needed to be. Bertholdt sighed, his eyes darting around the room that was filled with noises.

Sasha was going around the room again, stealing food that wasn't hers and causing a chaos. Eren and Jean were engaged in again something like a useless disagreement. Connie was screaming at both Sasha and Jean at the same time. And then there were Armin and Mikasa who tried to get Eren to step away from what almost looked like a physical fight with Jean.

Bertholdt sighed and nervously looked at Annie in the distance, who merely ate without even minding the chaos. And then he gazed at Reiner who sat next to him; the main reason why messy dinners like this concerned him. The past few weeks, Reiner had sometimes acted a little differently, and Bertholdt wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

Reiner was no longer the childhood friend he knew, but more like... a confused version of it, combined with the lingering shadow of Marcel Galliard. Bertholdt sighed. If that wasn’t enough, a third side was becoming more and more visible: The Reiner Braun of the 104th Training Corps.

The version of Reiner everyone around here knew, but Bertholdt failed to recognize. Of course they were both playing this double role. They all were; Annie, Reiner and himself.

But the more changes in Reiner’s character he detected during the days and nights they spent with these people, the more unpredictable his actions were.

From sudden comments, silently, about how Christa Lenz seemed fit to become his wife - he had to be joking, right? - to randomly getting up at night and challenging Eren to a rematch in chess - games that weren’t even in need of rematches for if anyone was superior in the game, it was Reiner. And weren’t they supposed to lay low?

It wasn’t as if any of those actions were dangerous, but Bertholdt didn’t like these surprises. Reiner’s behavior could get so unpredictable that he had a few nightmares of him suddenly transforming out of the blue.

So especially right now with all these chaotic dinners lately, Bertholdt couldn’t help but feel nervous, wondering if and when Reiner would suddenly mingle with the crowd and start acting weird. He looked at Reiner’s face, calm as he continued to eat his dinner. Bertholdt smiled. They were here with one mission, and they were going to finish it. He was sure he would bring Reiner home again and make their homeland proud.

..... “TICKLE FIGHT!” Bertholdt froze, his eyes widening. Oh no. He looked back at the Eren-Jean-chaos that had magically turned from an almost-fist-fight into a tickle fight.

“Eren! Stop it!” Armin and Mikasa warned, but Jean and Eren were as competitive as ever, their wild bodies staggering through the room.

“HAhhah! You’re suhuhuch a lohohoseheher!” Jean cackled as Eren threw him on top of one of the tables where a frustrated Sasha cried out because he was now on top of her plate of collected leftovers.

“Tahahahake that!” Eren yelled, struggling to keep himself upright as Jean tickled him back at the same time. It was the moment when things had gone bad enough that people like Ymir, Christa, and also Annie, all left the room.

“Eren...” Mikasa said, standing sheepishly beside Armin. If she wasn’t Eren’s close friend who was the one involved in this embarrassing mess, she probably would have left the room too.

“Don’t stick around here. Those ridiculous devils...” Annie muttered under her breath as she passed by Reiner and Bertholdt. Bertholdt agreed and would also very much like to get out of here, but Reiner had been so distracted by all that was going on that he hadn’t finished his food yet, and besides... Bertholdt gulped. This was what he was afraid for... Reiner looked triggered!

“A tickle fight huh?” Reiner spat cheekily, the biggest grin appearing on his face. His eyes were sparkling with mischief. Oh no oh no. This was a bit of childhoold-Reiner showing up at an unwelcome time. Bertholdt recognized that look.

During their time at the Marleyan military, Reiner had proved to him again and again he was an enthusiast in tickle fights and quite strong at it. Bertholdt blushed a little in embarrassment at the memory.

“Y-y-yeah. Silly, right. Your food is getting cold,” Bertholdt mumbled nervously, but Reiner was already completely invested, staring at Eren and Jean who were still entangled in their tickle fight. Somehow Eren had gotten the upperhand and was now pridefully making his victory known with proud shouts like “I win! I’m the winner! Why don’t you give in!” while he continued to tickle Jean, who had a pretty funny laugh.

“I’m gahahaannaha kihihill YEagehe!!” Jean laughed hysterically, humiliated by his own friends who laughed at his misery.

“Amateurs they are,” Reiner said, and Bertholdt noticed he was flexing his fingers. Nooooo.

“It’s.. better to stay out of it, Reiner,” Bertholdt said. He didn’t want to know what would happen if Reinerー

“I will teach them.” Ahh! Too late. Reiner already got up and abandoned his unfinished plate of food to join the battle.

“A winner you say hm, Yeager? Let me show you what a real tickle fight is,” he said, cracking his knuckles. At that moment, Armin tried to jump in by quickly moving in front of Eren, his arms spread wide.

“R-Reiner. I think we have had enough! It’s time to- AHAHAHA!” All who remained in the room, including Bertholdt, watched in awe how Reiner tickled Armin’s sides without hesitation. Armin was surprised by the sudden attack on him and he literally shrieked.

“Nohoho wahahahit Reiheheh-Reineheheher!” Armin cackled. At this point Mikasa did roll her eyes and finally left as well.

“What did I tell you, hmm? Don’t speak of winning tickle fights while I’m in the room,” Reiner blurted out passionately as he released a tickle wrath on Armin that made Bertholdt cringe right where he was sitting.

“I wahahahasn’t ahahaha! Ehehe-Erehehen hehehelp!” Armin cried, but Eren was busy fighting Jean off who seemed determined to pay him back.

“Get off me!” Eren panted, ending back up in a struggle with the persistent Kirstein.

“What was that hmm? Got something to say, Armin Arlert?” Reiner spat poor Armin’s name as if the blond had done anything to him, but Bertholdt knew once Reiner’s tickle monster was unleashed, he was just like a wild beast out of control. He blushed again and shuffled nervously where he was sitting.

“HEHEHE Nahahaha- plehehease Reiheheiner!” Armin squealed, trying his hardest to crawl out of Reiner’s reach, but Reiner pulled him back and pinned him down, his fingers digging into his ribs and underarms.

Armin threw his head back, his blond hair moving around as he shook heavily with each laugh. “I GIHIHIVE! Mehehehercy!” Looked like he should’ve said those words earlier since that gave Reiner the satisfaction to move on.

“Ha! I win.” He released Armin and got up. With fierce steps he approached the Eren-Jean struggle, smirking like a predator, and he grabbed Jean and shoved him out of the way so he could challenge the so-called tickle fight winner Eren Yeager.

“Reiner! Thanks for ー HWAH!” Eren had been so occupied with Jean that he might have completely missed that Reiner wasn’t here to help.

“REIEHEHE-heheheeeeyy!” Eren roared hilariously when Reiner grabbed his sides and started to tickle with the terrifying enthusiasm of a Marleyan warrior. Bertholdt was sweating.

“Come ohohhohon whyhyhy ahahahre you- aahahah!” Eren cackled.

“Why, you say? Why? Why am I the best? That is of course: because I’m a warrior!”

Nothing changed actually; Eren’s laughter could still be heard, Jean was still sitting on the side with Sasha and Connie who chuckled and pointed at Eren who was getting wrecked by Reiner Braun, Armin was still on the floor as well, catching his breath.

But for Bertholdt, hearing the words ‘I’m a warrior’ just took the floor away beneath his feet, and he rose in a hurry, panicked by Reiner’s words.

“Wahhaharriohohor what thehe hehehell?!” Eren laughed, his arms flailing.

“W-well yeah, a tickle warrior of course ー” Reiner said, perhaps also sweating a little because he had let those words loose, but before he could say anything else, Bertholdt grabbed Reiner’s shoulder.

“Maaaaybe that’s enough for tonight, let’s - AAHAH!” Bertholdt was unprepared when Reiner turned around wildly and grabbed his sides. He threw him right where Eren was still sprawled on one of the dinner tables, causing the brunet to yelp as Bertholdt landed on top of him.

“What was that, my friend?” Reiner said, and Bertholdt guessed he could only be thankful he didn’t say anything like ‘fellow warrior’ or any other weird term as he was manhandled by his best friend and tickled like he hadn’t been since they left Marley.

“Reheheheiner I sahahaid thahahat’s enough ehehehe!” Bertholdt laughed, struggling on top of Eren. He only barely noticed that Armin was back on his feet and grabbed Eren, helping him move from under Bertholdt’s struggling body.

“L-let’s go, Eren!”

Bertholdt also heard some angry yelling from Jean who was still witnessing this embarrassing display together with Sasha and Connie, but the moment Eren and Armin started to move towards the exit, they followed.

“You are the winner, Reiner! E-eh please have mercy on us, alright? Bertholdt, good luck!” Connie called out, and from then on, it was only Bertholdt and Reiner who remained in the aftermath of the chaos of their making. They started it.

“Reheheiner y-you’re ohohoverdoing ihihit!” Bertholdt giggled while Reiner scribbled mercilessly all over his stomach and sides.

“Hmm what? I just showed them who’s best at this! Here, I see that you are still ticklish too,” Reiner said with a goofy smile, and he suddenly grabbed Bertholdt’s hips and started to squeeze. Bertholdt thrashed underneath him and shrieked.

“REIHHEINER! P-plehehease!” He felt afraid that a commander could enter at any time and scold them for making a mess and acting like children. Bertholdt could be scolded for something he hadn’t been part of until.. until now.

"How about here, still ticklish too?” Reiner teased, his fingers wiggling down to dig into Berthold’s thighs. He jerked heavily and tried to fight him off.

“N-Nohoho! Reheheiner I’m seheheherious!” Tried to, really. This was no time for tickling. But he couldn’t fight the happy feeling upon seeing Reiner having fun like this, and it made him hate himself for actually wishing this was their life. Their real life. Training with their friends, having stupid silly fun and the messiest tickle fights. Making each other laugh. If only that was their truth.

But such thoughts betrayed his homeland, so he would feel sick to his stomach if he would hold on to them. Luckily then, there was Reiner, tickling him until he could barely think.

“I gihihive! You wihihihin Reheheiner!” Even the magical words didn’t do it for Bertholdt.

“I must say, I’ve missed this. We used to have tickle fights all the time, remember?” Anything tickly that had happened between them in the past couldn’t even be called ‘tickle fights’ but that was alright.

“Reheheheiner plehehease!” Bertholdt laughed. He squirmed weakly and kicked his legs.

“I c-cahahan’t breheheathe!” Tears left his eyes and he sobbed, from laughing obviously. But also because of all those other emotions he felt at the same time. Anger, disgust, happiness, confusion. At last he managed to grab Reiner’s hand, which froze when it was tickling Bertholdt’s neck briefly, only to have a tear land on it.

“Ah. You okay?” Reiner asked plainly. He blinked and stared at Bertholdt. It looked like the tickle monster had gone again. Bertholdt sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

“I c-can’t believe you,” he whispered.

“I’m still unbeatable hm?” Reiner said proudly. Bertholdt rolled his eyes fondly. Alright, he was not going to bring up Reiner’s shocking ‘warrior’- comment.

“You are. Had your fun?” Bertholdt asked breathlessly. Reiner nodded and helped him climb off the table again.

“Sure did. I hope you did too? Was I too rough?” He patted Bertholdt’s shoulder, making him blush at the sudden gentle behavior.

“It was... it was fine,” he said tiredly.

“Good! Those cowards all left huh, let’s see where they are hiding,” Reiner continued, and Bertholdt followed him outside. He smiled. For him, this mission was all about his devotion to Marley and saving humanity.

But recently with how Reiner was behaving, it was also more and more about Reiner, and he just wished to end this mission soon so they could finally go back home and find real happiness. As his true self, without the different personas. It was what Reiner deserved.

“Are you not hungry?” Bertholdt asked, remembering Reiner hardly ate anything.

“I am fine. Thanks!”

Bertholdt smiled. “Glad to hear it!”

#reupload #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #reiner braun #bertholdt hoover #armin arlert #eren yeager #eren jaeger #snk #tickling #tickle fic #otomiya!writes

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my-wee-hughie · 4 months ago

Text

Annie spent the entire season going through an identity crisis.

She wanted to help people as Annie January, not Starlight.

People got hurt because they followed her.

An incredibly private decision between her and Hughie was broadcast to the city.

People were accusing her of being a murderer for having an abortion.

She lost her reputation, the Starlight House and eventually her powers.

She was feeling incredibly depressed.

She watched her boyfriend go through traumatic experiences. His father and the Tek Cave. She was there for him.

She was abducted and held for 10 days, with her replacement gloating to her about having sex and getting engaged to Hughie.

She had been surviving on junk food and water for 10 days, she was weak and tired but still found the strength to escape.

She killed The Shifter and afterwards, she was furious at Hughie for having sex with her and then proposing.

She refused to listen to his side of the story.

She made a joke about him potentially contracting STD's.

Now, let's look at what Hughie went through in the same amount of time:

His dad had a stroke, and he was feeling incredible guilty about not answering his phone call.

His mum returned out of the blue after 25+ years and just expected Hughie to accept her back into his life.

He nearly died trying to get Compound V for his dad, just so he had a chance to tell him how much he loved him.

He watched his dad kill innocent people as a result of the Compound V and had to mercy kill him.

On the same day as his dad's funeral and his mum leaving, he was put in a terrible situation in the Tek Cave, where he had to play along with Ashley and Tek Knight or be found out. He was desperately trying to find the safe word to get the torment to stop. He failed.

He was discovered by Tek Knight, and after being threatened with rape, he ended up bound and gagged and very nearly cut open by his self-admitted childhood hero.

He had an emotional breakdown in front of Annie as everything he's been through finally sunk in.

He was deceived into having sex with the Shapeshifter multiple times, with her initiating the sex almost all the time.

He proposed to The Shifter, fully believing it was Annie.

He found out Annie was replaced by the Shapeshifter and had flashbacks of everything he's done with her.

Shifter Annie taunted him with the "peg the patriarchy" line, and Hughie had a realistically panicked reaction when he realised what he let her do to him.

After The Shifter died, he went to check on Annie to see how she was after everything. He obviously felt slightly guilty with the way he approached her.

He tried to defend himself about how he thought he was with Annie, but it fell on deaf ears.

TL;DR

Annie had a shit season, she was depressed and lost her reputation and her powers because of a mental block, likely linked to her identity crisis. She was then kidnapped and held for 10 days when no one knew.

Hughie had a shit season, he was feeling immense guilt over his dad and ended up euthanising him, he got sexually assaulted by Ashley and Tek Knight, he got raped multiple times by The Shifter.

Both characters had a terrible time, but the writers decided to treat what Hughie went through with The Shifter as a joke. With MM giving him THAT look when he knew Annie was going to shout at him, to Annie making a joke about him getting tested before they had sex.

#the boys #the boys season 4 #the boys spoilers #i'm so disappointed in how they wrote Hughie's assault #he had an emotional breakdown with Annie over his dad and what happened in the Tek Cave #and then after that everything got completely dismissed

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smok3r7 · 7 months ago

Text

One Door Closes & Another One Opens

Joel x OFC!Divorce Lawyer

Explicit, 18+

Voice To The Face

Main MasterList & Series Masterlist - My AO3

Summary: She’s a divorce attorney and he’s a husband looking for help to save his daughter, and himself, from his gambling addict wife. Renae Russo is a woman who fights for her clients and wins. She’s satisfied with her life and what she does - but she wishes she could have a little more. What happens when Joel Miller becomes her client and an old flame of Renae’s reignites in the same breath?

Chapter Summary: Both Joel and Renae finally find the courage to make the right decisions to better their lives and find true happiness, partially together and partially not. Better late than never.

Word count: 5.8k

—

Mindlessly pacing back and forth in Tommy’s backyard, Joel can’t seem to stop talking to Renae. The conversation flows so easily, there’s no awkward silence, no vile words being thrown around, no drunken nonsense, and no slot machine music in the background. It’s the first time in years Joel feels listened to and has someone who actually engages in conversation.

His flip-flops pop on the cement that surrounds the inground pool - he’s probably done at least two dozen laps in a matter of minutes. The sky has changed to a soft blue with a hue of orange coming from the sun that’s starting to set, soft bubble-like clouds scatter the sky, and the vibrant oak and ash trees dance with the wind that lightly blows. Summers in Austin can be outright magical, but they can also be dangerously hot. Thankfully this year has been more of the cooler weather, but Joel’s not gonna jinx it because he’s noticed as he gets older, he hates the heat.

Joel didn’t expect to be by the pool for this call, so his jeans stick to his sweaty legs and groin as he paces, making him adjust his semi-hard cock that's been fighting with his zipper. If he would’ve known the first call with a divorce lawyer would’ve gone this way, he wouldn’t have been around Tommy. He started the call sitting with Tommy in his front lawn, both sitting around an ash-filled fire pit with whiskeys in each other's hands, but after about five minutes of Tommy wanting to know every tiny bit of what she was saying, Joel just stood up and walked to the backyard, whiskey in hand.

The phone call started out professional; he went into extreme detail about his financial details, how he wants physical and sole custody of Sarah with no strings to Annie, and that he wants to keep everything except the Toyota. She can keep that damn thing for all he cares, it’s of no use to him.

However, about thirty minutes into the call, after Joel mentioned he also wants to keep the cabin he and Annie bought when they first got together, Renae is the one to change the energy of the call from business to somewhat casual. She talks about how she loves camping in cabins and that she hasn’t gone camping in over a decade, and Joel makes sure to remember that she’s been to ten different campsites in Texas.

If things go a certain direction, he might be able to help her add to that list. At the same time, Joel can’t stop from thinking how he’s already looking into the future with her, during a time where he’s getting divorced. But he quickly finds himself getting distracted by the way her business voice morphed into this bubbly, sarcastic one that has Joel hypnotized by her every word.

And just like that, the floodgates open and the divorce talk is forgotten about completely by both parties.

Another thirty minutes go by of Joel and Renae getting to know each other through talking about fun activities they’ve individually done in the past and things they both enjoy. He talks about things he’s done with Sarah throughout her life, the memories of going to Disney World, to Cedar Point, the Grand Canyon all start to play out like a movie in his brain. Joel hasn’t thought about some of the things that play for him right now in some years - he’s been too occupied to reminisce about the past, so he goes silent for a moment getting lost in little Sarah giggles and hugs.

“That reminds me of the time my sister and I went tubin’ and both of us flew- and when I say flew, I mean we went like ten feet in the air!” She laughs on the other side of the phone.

Seriously? Joel can’t help but chuckle as he asks her, his left hand rubs the back of his neck as he passes the metal handle that leads to the pool steps. Circling for what could very well be the hundredth time.

“Yes, Joel, my dad is insane when it comes to his boat. But I wouldn’t have anyone else drive it, and he wouldn’t either.”

“That sounds like a smart man to me. Sounds like me with my pontoon.”

“Joel, stop it right now,” her southern twang takes control as she drags out her words almost in a whiny voice, but not annoying like Annie. Quite the opposite, actually, any tone from Renae has Joel drooling from his mouth and dick.

“You keep surprisin’ me with these fun little facts about you.”

Heat rushes instantly to his face, and he’s so taken aback that his feet plant themselves and he drags his fingers through the top of his curls and stops them on the back of his head, where he softly scratches his scalp. Something about her smart-ass attitude, silk-like voice, and confident cadence all combined and tied with a large bow to make it better has him not feeling like himself, and he can’t tell if that’s good or not.

“I’ve lived a pretty full life darlin’, there’s lots of things you’d learn from me.”

Joel feels like he must be on a roll or something because of the way she giggles; it’s almost like he can see her sun kissed cheeks start to turn red and her teeth shine from her smile. His heart beat thumps in his chest and cock that’s now supported by the waistband of his boxers and jeans. Thankfully he’s somewhat smart enough to have his back facing the two story home to hide the effects from this one woman.

“Well, since you’re offering, I couldn’t possibly pass that up. That would just be pretty dumb of me.” Joel knows she’s serious but he also hears the bit of sarcasm that laces her words. It’s like a fun game of cat and mouse, who’s gonna fold first, and Joel is loving every second of it.

Joel’s body feels light and airy, his chest isn’t tight. Most importantly, he’s not walking on eggshells. It’s become so natural for him to always be on alert and pay attention to the little inflections of someone’s voice and body language, but that hasn’t happened once since he’s been on this call. It’s refreshing to have a simple, yet meaningful, conversation with someone - her slight southern charm with some street knowledge, and with him knowing her physical attributes, Joel can’t complain in the slightest.

He feels like he’s hit the lottery with Renae and he hasn’t even met her yet.

“Well sugar, how about I come to see ya’ tomorrow ‘n I’ll teach ya’ some things.” The second glass of whiskey gives Joel the confidence he needs to keep up the playful banter and not feel self conscious about it. A second goes by and he swears he hears her try to cover up another giggle, I still got it. Joel hasn’t flirted in years, after so long he was convinced he could never do it again and he was going to be this cold hearted old man for the rest of his life.

“Come by anytime between noon and four,” she says, her voice low and sweet, “Just say you’re here for Russo and she’ll bring you to me.”

“Someone’s eager,” Joel can’t help but grin, “But it sounds like a deal, darlin’.”

“Well I wanna put a face to the smooth voice- uh, I-” she’s now stumbling on her words trying to hide the fact that she just slipped up more than she wanted to. “You may want to bring paper copies of bills, properties you own, and any evidence against Annie that you have. Ya’ know, for our first conciliation- free of charge for you.”

“Will get as much as I can by then-”

“Dad!”

Joel spins around and sees Sarah standing in the doorway with her Nightmare Before Christmas pajama set and her brown hair is pulled up in a high bun that sits on her head. “Are you done yet? I wanna play uno before bed!” She shouts with both of her hands sitting on her hips as she pops her left hip out dramatically and her face has a scowl the size of a monster.

He can’t help but snort at the amount of attitude that spews out of his four foot daughter - oddly enough, he hears Renae snickering in his right ear.

“Give me one minute, kiddo, just gotta finish this call.”

“Ugh, you said that over an hour ago,” Sarah groans and spins around to storm off into Tommy’s, but before she takes a step Joel is quick to check her. He lets some attitude and smart ass comments fly, but not when it comes to something like this. It’s too close to her coming off as a snooty kid - which is not the kind of behavior he will tolerate.

He rests his phone on his chest as his voice booms across the pool and yard from her, “Would ya’ rather just go to bed?” This stops her and causes her to turn her head. I’m sorry, she apologizes. He nods and she’s gone inside. Then he shakes his head, raising his left hand to his face as he rubs the corner of his eye for a moment to collect himself.

“Sorry ‘bout that-“

“Don’t be,” Renae interrupts him, “When duty calls you gotta act on it, I get it. Well, not cause of kids, but- you know what I mean. Anyways, I’ll let you go for the night and I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. Joel Miller.”

He doesn’t want to hang up, he could talk with her for hours and hours. But ultimately he knows he has to, there’s no other option. He’s been dreading this part of the call, partially due to the fact he knows he’s gotta go back to reality.

“Alrighty, Ms. Russo,” he purrs, “Rest up so ya’ can see if my face meets your expectations.”

Renae giggles and the shaking of her bracelets clangs together faintly in the background. “Night, Joel.”

Then just like that, she hangs up. Leaving Joel smirking like a fifteen year old boy who just talked to his first crush and got her number. But now he’s alone with his conflicting thoughts and feelings about how he should handle this delicate situation.

—

On my way back now, a client surprised me. Be home in 10<3

Renae hits send to Gia, who texted her about five minutes ago reminding Renae that she said she’d be home no later than six-thirty - it's ten after seven. Renae had gotten distracted by her phone call with Joel, that she forgot her sister and niece were even in town. There was just something about him that entranced her and kept her wanting to learn more and more about him and who he is as a person.

Renae’s phone goes off with a ding, and she picks it up and unlocks it to see a response.

Kk I just got B out the bath and she’s playing with Frankie, see you when you get here<3

Renae smiles and holds down the message and presses the heart reaction, letting Gia know she read it. After tossing her phone in her purse on her passenger side, she puts her car in drive and heads home.

But she can’t stop thinking of Joel. The way his southern drawl slurs his words just a bit, his laugh deep and sounds like it starts in his belly and climbs into his chest, and the way he talks so highly of his daughter like she’s the most precious thing to him. It’s almost too perfect - but yet again, he is getting divorced, so maybe that’s his red flag. She can’t help but think maybe he wasn’t so innocent in the way things ended with Annie, because there’s two sides to every story.

Even with those negative things floating around her head, she can’t leave the idea of Joel alone. Renae can’t think of the last time a man who has been open about emotions and relationships and a stand up guy all around.

Well, that’s kind of a lie.

Dominic Amaro.

That man will forever be the standard of a boyfriend that Renae will ever have. When they broke up, she told herself that she would never settle for anything less than that and she has upheld that since then. It hasn’t been easy, Renae’s used to the toxic, needy guys - for some god awful reason - so she’s had to learn how to steer clear from those people.

Joel seems to be the opposite of what she would be into, however she’s only basing this off of his voice and personality with a mix of his playful humor.

Sugar, darlin’, Ms. Russo.

Renae can’t stop replaying those words in Joel’s voice. She’s hooked, addicted even. She’s not sure how she’s gonna be able to keep her composure tomorrow. If he looks anything like she imagines - she’s fucked, and not in a good way.

Well, maybe…who knows?

By the time she reaches her apartment complex, she’s already looking forward to sleeping. But she knows she can't. Bianca is going to want to watch The Princess Bride before she goes to bed tonight. It's become tradition since the first time Bianca traveled five years ago. The first night they stayed, Gia suggested it and Bianca just fell in love with the movie. The next time they visited, Renae surprised Bianca with baking sugar cookies before the movie so they would be done about half way through. Then they could snack on some treats while enjoying the movie before they all went to bed.

It’s helped heal a bit of Renae’s broken heart that she denies having; being able to create joy for Bianca out of something so minuscule is all Renae needs.

“I’m back!” She announces as she pushes her front door open and instantly spots everyone in the living room to her left. “So sorry I’m late, I got caught up on a call.” She can feel Gina’s eyes scorning her back as Renae faces her kitchen, setting down her purse and laptop bag. Like she always does.

But before Gia can get a word out, Bianca is at Renae’s hip, saving her from any bullshit her mom was about to unleash. “It’s okay, we got the movie all set and got the cookies mixed up, they just gotta go in the oven!” Bianca squeals as she looks up at Renae with this enormous smile that Renae can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy; she looks so much like a mix of Gia and Renae, the Russo genes are strong.

“Lovebug, you are the bomb,” Renae lowers her right hand a low five, which Bianca smacks hard. “Just lemme’ go change and we can start!”

“Okay!” Bianca cheers as she hugs Renae’s hips and runs back into the living room with Gia and Frankie. The apartment is now filled with puppy barks and growls as Bianca plays tug-a-war with him on the dark gray carpet that has a hint of navy blue to it, that covers the living room.

“Can I talk with you for just a second?” Gia asks with a snide tone while standing up from the navy leather couch, then walking behind Renae who’s heading to her room.

“Don’t think I have much of a choice,” Renae sighs in defeat while opening her bedroom door. In a strange way, she now feels like the little sister who’s about to get scolded by the older one for god knows what. However, deep down Renae knows that Gia can sense something is up. When she and Bianca are in town, Renae is never late and won’t ever give a half-assed excuse, for anything - so Gia definitely knows something is different.

Before Renae can even get one heel off, Gia is already shooting off a hundred questions at once. To anyone else it would sound like pure gibberish, but Renae has no problem making out each word and being able to understand them.

So who’s the guy? How old? Does he have money? Is he tall? Fat? Skinny? Short? How long has this been goin’ on? Are you and Dominic talking again? You only glow like this when you’re with or talking with him- She takes a split second to gasp out of a realization, oh my god…it is Dominic. When were you gonna tell me? How long?

By the time she’s finished with her array of questions, Renae has already changed into her oversized tee and shorts and is now in her bathroom relieving her face from the makeup that’s melted to her face from the brutal heat. Completely ignoring her sisters ridiculous blabbering, but yet hating the fact that she’s right - partially.

With both her hands flat on the pearl white countertop next to the matching white square sink that sits above the counter, instead of in it. A little touch of something different than any other place she was looking at to rent, the bathroom is really what sold her on this one bedroom, one and a half bathroom apartment.

She observes her reflection opposite of her, she can tell there is a small glow that shines from her face; her cheeks have a brighter color to them, her green eyes piercing but soft, her shoulders are relaxed and low. She’s not tense, like she has been for the last few years. Not because of anything in particular, she just hasn't been able to let loose like she wants.

After a few more seconds of taking in her appearance, she sees how happy she looks. The defined lines in between her eyebrows are softer, the smiles lines grow from the permanent smile that paints her lips. Her eyes are full of hope and desire, much like how she feels about tomorrow. The promise of tomorrow is what’s keeping her light on her toes; the possibility of something new and unfamiliar excites Renae.

She has to venture out of her comfort zone, Dominic can’t be her safety net forever.

“Hello,” Gia drags out as she vigorously flips the light switch on and off, “Earth to Renae, anyone home?”

“Shit, yeah.” Renae shakes her head before she slides her bracelets off, along with her rings, and hoops. Then setting them on the counter next to the sink; knowing that she’ll more than likely wear them tomorrow, she doesn’t put them in her jewelry stand.

Quickly glancing over to her sister and her bump, who’s no more than a couple meters away, Renae smiles at the fact Gia is living her life exactly how she wants. The jealousy still lingers in her soul, it always will, but it’s pushed into the back of her mind for now. She goes back to her reflection and starts to put her thick hair into a low bun that sits at the bottom of her neck.

“For your information, Dominic and I aren’t back together, but we have been talking-“

“I knew it!”

Renae now completely faces Gia with a playful - kinda annoyed - expression, “Bitch, are you gonna let me finish? Or do ya’ not want the story?” Crossing her arms in front of her chest and popping her right hip that bumps into the drawer.

“Can’t help myself!” Gia scoffs as she turns around and sits on Renae’s bed, one hand planted behind her supporting her body up and the other one spreads across her belly. Her worn gray Yankee’s tee lifts enough for her belly button to pop out, Renae can't stop her lips from curving up. Pure love and compassion pours out of her whole demeanor. Seeing Gia legitimately happy and enjoying herself and her life, getting everything she wants and needs for her and her family, is such a beautiful feeling for Renae.

The big sister finally feels like the baby has finally found herself and it digs at her a little bit because she doesn’t need Renae. At least not like they did as kids. But it also fills her with this accomplished spirit because Renae was the one who pushed Gia to move to New York and make that one last step.

Now look at Gia; a badass business owner, wife, mother, and homeowner.

“I get excited when this shit happens to you, Rae… Cause you deserve it and I want it so badly for you.” Gia’s tone is now low and sincere, her body language even. She swipes the loose pieces of her shoulder length hair that’s a bright cherry blonde behind her ears and slightly sitting forward. Almost too fast for Renae to catch but she sees a small tear fall down Gia’s cheek before she quickly wipes it away with her right hand.

“Please know that I’m rooting for you in every way possible, even with our little tit-for-tat shit we do.”

Renae now in the doorway between her bedroom and bathroom with the right side of her body leaning against the frame, her left leg crossed behind her right one that supports her body and her arms still folded. The image of her pregnant sister in front of her instantly soothes her body and mind, she can never stay mad at Gia.

“Don’t go gettin’ all fuckin’ sappy on me,” Renae chuckles, “Buck up, camper.”

“Whatever, so how’s Dominic and his ma?”

“Not good, uh, he told me she’s maybe got a year left in her. Her organs just are not functioning like they should, so he’s pretty shaken by that.”

“Aw, Rae. I’m sorry, honey.”

“Yeah, well, anyway Dominic is comin’ to visit next month, so I invited him to stay with me for those few days he’s here.” Renae watches as Gia’s eyes bulge and her mouth starts to open, however she’s quick to stop her. “Nothing serious is gonna come outta it, I just figured if he’s gonna be in Austin he could save money by staying here. And maybe we’ll fuck or not, I don’t know okay?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Gia smirks as she raises her hands in surrender. “But I know that’s not everything that happened today… Spill.” Both her hands back on the mattress supporting her body as she leans back a bit with a cocky smirk.

Renae can’t help herself from laughing as she turns to flick the light off in the bathroom and slides past Gia towards the door that leads out to the rest of her apartment. She doesn’t want to explain the Joel situation right now mostly because she hasn’t even met him yet, so she really has nothing to go on. She’ll fill Gia in tomorrow after her meeting with him.

“Nice try, your daughter’s waiting for us.” She flicks her bedroom light off, “In five seconds I bet she’ll call for us. Five…four…three…two..”

“Mamaaa, are y’all almost ready?”

In her dark room the two sisters can’t help the burst of laughter and snorts that leave their mouths at the perfect timing of Bianca’s voice from the living room. Renae was just trying to switch the topic of conversation off of her before she got stuck answering to her sister.

Even though she’s a lawyer - a very good one - Gia is able to corner Renae into telling her things. She’s never been able to understand why her baby sister is the one to crack her and it’s been like this since Gia could talk. So Renae found out she has to switch the conversation or just leave the area, because otherwise Gia will sit there and pick apart every minute detail that Renae subconsciously tells.

“We’re comin’, lovebug!”

—

The flicking of Renae’s nails on her thumb and ring finger on her right hand takes over the office, her nerves tingling with anticipation. It’s the first time she’s ever been nervous to meet a client. Well frankly, she’s never had a client like this before.

She can’t stop pacing her office; around her desk, around the table that sits in the middle of her room, up and down the length of her five foot window as she stares down twelve stories at the people who look like ants. Her stomach is in knots, her throat feels dry even though she’s pounded a couple of bottles of water.

Burning rays of sun shine down on her through the window pane, causing her to turn back to her office as she scans her surroundings. Making sure everything is exactly how she wants it and nothing is slightly out of place; first impressions are huge for her.

Renae’s office is her prized possession, she’s worked her ass off to get where she is; right after high school she jumped into college - four years of college to get her bachelors in Sociology and then she did three years in Law school. Luckily she knew Rachel York through a family friend, who put a good word in for Renae and was able to start at R&R Law Firm immediately. So the last thing she wants is for a client to walk in and be instantly turned away by how her space is decorated or kept together.

Maybe that’s a stretch for anyone to think but she’s heard plenty of stories from other attorneys, where their desk wasn’t kept up completely and the client complained about him being disorganized. So ever since then Renae has been a stickler about her work space.

Why did I give him such a huge window of time? She repeats on a loop in different ways so she can try to understand her logic, but there’s no right or wrong answer. She was simply too distracted by him and too eager to meet him to even think about giving correct information. She cracks her thin fingers on both hands and a little bit of her tension is broken, at least in her hands - the other parts of her body are another story.

She tilts her head up to the clock above her desk, one o’clock on the dot. She inhales through her nose and lets it sit in her chest for a second, then exhales through her mouth once to try to escape the reality of meeting Joel. But it doesn’t help. She walks about her mahogany desk and sits in her matching colored office chair, adjusting her fitting white button-up that’s tucked into her high waisted baby blue dress pants so she’s comfortable.

Her usual curly hair, now pin straight with a middle part, reaches the top of her butt and a few money pieces in front of her shoulders and temples on her face. The gold of her jewelry shimmers with her sun-kissed skin that lays underneath the thick, choker-like chain necklace, accompanied by her medium sized hoops, bangles on each wrist and groupings of rings on either hand. Her French tipped acrylics being the cherry on top for her.

“Knock, knock.”

Renae stops like she just got caught sneaking out the house as a teenager.

He’s here. Holy shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

With her open toed white heels she spins her chair towards her door to see the mystery man that she already knows is going to uproot her life. Her body stops all movements, but her brain is working a mile a minute.

He’s from the diner… He’s the hot man from the diner.

But he’s cleaned himself up. He’s now crossed the threshold of the door about five or six feet away from her, give or take. First thing that catches her eye is how he shaved his face, keeping the mustache so not quite a baby face but not the full beard she loved yesterday. His salt and pepper curls are combed back and not messy, it even looks like he may have gotten a small haircut on the top. His dark chocolate orbs glistening along with his tanned skin from the sun that beats in from the window across the room.

She can’t believe this, it’s almost comical. In fact, she can’t help but laugh and slightly shake her head side to side while she stares up into his eyes. Joel does the same as he holds a stack of papers in a Manila folder tucked between his left bicep that’s covered by a light gray button up, which is bunched up and about ready to rip and his side.

“So you’re Joel Miller?” She giggles as she pushes herself out of her chair and steps towards him to properly greet him, for real this time and not just a quick moment of intimate eye contact while she walks away.

“This is me, darlin’,” he says, and she watches his eyes do a quick up and down gaze of her body as she gets closer. Her heart flutters at his voice, it's soft but deep like it comes from his chest and his southern tone is heavy when it comes to pet names.

Now directly in front of him, Renae extends her arm to shake his hand - for more reasons than one - her thin gold bangles chime together.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Miller”

Joel’s quick to grasp her hand, which is completely swallowed by his thick, calloused hand that squeezes for a second, “Likewise Ms. Russo.” His voice is like honey that drips and drips, having Renae begging for more of it.

—

“So you did know it was me before you came here?” Renae questions Joel with a smirk, as she barely sways her chair and pops her gum, while he sits across her desk.

Joel shifts his body just enough so his shoulder blades now rest on the back of the leather swivel chair, his right hand scratches his stubble while he chuckles at her reaction. His eyes roam around her body, even though she’s all he wants to look at. He’s partially embarrassed because he feels like a stalker of some kind, even though she’s reassured him that he’s not dozens and dozens of times.

It’s been close to two hours since he arrived at her office. The first hour was all about the divorce bullshit he’ll have to go through; canceling insurance on Annie’s Toyota and changing the title to her name, taking her off his phone plan, changing locks, taking her off of the family insurance policy. Then the worst two things that he wanted to avoid at all cost, he found out he’s going to have to deal with it - the whole process will take four months minimum because there’s a child involved and that he’s going to have to fight for physical and sole custody because Annie’s going to, and already is, fighting it.

Renae could tell he was feeling down and out of sorts just by the way his whole body tensed when Sarah came up in the conversation. So she swiftly changed the course of their conversation and turned it more easy-going and natural than the previous. Which ended up turning into an hour of joking about the fact they have somewhat already met one another and the fact the odds of that happening are slim to none.

“Yes… But,” he sits up, now halfway off the seat and his elbows rest on his knees, while his palms and fingertips pressed together, “I just happened to click on R&R Law Firm. I saw your picture - beautiful one by the way - ‘N I told myself, or, made myself is a better way to describe it. And I had to just make the call.”

Joel loves the way her face brightens whenever he compliments her or he makes a joke that she finds hilarious; the way her nose scrunches when she tries to hide her laughter or smile, makes it hard for him to stop staring. He’s just getting to know her and he’s already obsessed, addicted, fixated. It’s kind of scary how possessive he already feels around Renae.

“Thank you. It’s an old picture, I’m sure you can tell,” her hands gesture to her face for a moment before she rests them back on her armrests and scoffs. “Side note, I believe you Joel. Don’t have to defend yourself, that’s what I’m here for!” Her teeth gleam with her smile as she rolls her chair a bit to her right and gently pulls the middle drawer of her desk open and grabs a sheet of paper.

“Exactly why I wanted ya, darlin’.” He draws out the beginning of ‘exactly’ as he watches her move so smoothly behind her desk. Gliding to one side and her orange strands of hair fly with her, grabbing a pen for him to use and the top part of her button-up open just enough for Joel to get a peak of her breasts, and back in the middle as she turns the paper to him.

“Just sign here,” she circles the bottom section on the front, then flips the sheet over, “‘n here and I’m all yours.” She purrs, handing the blue pen to Joel who happily takes it. Joel rarely liked the look of Annie’s too long, bright acrylics but Renae’s simple style and length makes him rethink his opinion on acrylics. He starts to think about how pretty her French tips would look wrapped around his throbbing cock or how ravishing she looks when she’s dripping with arousal as she glides through her folds and teases herself.

Mindlessly he signs the form and sets the pen on top of it before he slides it back to Renae who’s admiring him from behind her desk. Joel's brain can’t wrap around the fact that someone as gorgeous and intelligent as Renae, is even interested in a guy like Joel. Maybe too much of the belittling and the trauma from Annie has diminished his self esteem, but he can slowly feel it coming back.

She’s all mine.

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