#but not using limited time scout tickets right away when i get them makes me so anxious LMAO

[4giorno]

i should be able to save all 30 of the time limited scouts for shu right??? im sweating this is nervewracking

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter One

Chapter Two can be found here

(Gif’s not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras  quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies 

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This is pretty much a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter One starts after the cut. Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the new chapters.

Chapter One

Chapter warnings: Badly written smut (consensual), marriage awkwardness, alcohol consumption. Maybe OOC Sy, I don’t know. We never saw him being casual.

Sy checked his phone again as he waited for his bag by the baggage carousel. The airport was even busier than usual, it was taking ages and he was impatient to get out of there... and maybe even never set foot in an airport again for the rest of his life.

He read her text again, short and sweet. He sometimes called her that, short and sweet, just to tease her. Ada was considerably shorter than him and full of sugar, when she wanted to be, that was.

'I'm waiting by the gate for you, with a warm cinnabon :) So excited to see you again <3.'

Just then a notification popped up from Harper. It was a photo of the soldier at the airport, finally reunited with his wife and his two rugrats. It made Sy all the more excited to see Ada again, and then as if on cue, his camo bag appeared in the carousel and he groaned with relief.

He stood restless amidst the line, it seemed people in front of him were dragging their feet, but when they noticed his green beret uniform, most parted and let him through. Sy tipped his head gratefully.  

His wife was there, just outside the gate. Sy spotted her instantly in the crowd of people. She was wearing a red dress under her open coat and her hair looked fresh out of the hairdresser. He caught himself grinning at the sight of her. Then, once she spotted him making his way over to her, she started waving her hand excitedly as if there was any way his eyes hadn't already landed on her. He wished he still had his phone in hand to capture this moment for all of eternity, but his memory would have to do, he decided before casting his arms open for his wife. Fuck, did he love her!

°°°

Ada had been biting her nails nervously for the past two hours. She had arrived at the airport way too early. The parking fee would hurt but she couldn't find it in herself to care at this point.

Three weeks ago, she had received a call informing her that her husband and part of his unit had been ambushed. There had been an explosion in some building they were scouting only God knows where.

Only a full week after that did she receive a call from Sy himself. He was coming home. For good, this time. They were sending him home early, a full eight months earlier than what he had originally negotiated with his superiors. She hadn't been prepared for the news. She had spent the days following the call asking herself whether she had heard him right, making sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her.

Now he was here, stopping right in front of her, his thick arms inviting her right in for a hug. Ada wouldn't have been able to resist the invitation even if she had wanted to. Within a second, she was enveloped in his embrace, her cheek pressed against his chest. She was overjoyed to feel his heartbeat again. Sy kisses the crown of her head before putting her down, his hands never leaving her lower back, his fingers big enough to reach the swell of her bum from there.

They pulled away a few inches to take each other in. His beard has grown a little long, but it was not enough to hide his apparent dimples as he smiled. He looked a little older too, she hadn't seen in seven months, except through a shitty quality facetime call once or twice. Her careful gaze spotted the new scar by his temple, it was the only visible physical evidence of the explosion he had been caught in. She dreaded what she might under his uniform.

Sy caught her eyes and she found herself blushing under his stare. It was always like that the first few hours when he was back, until she got used to his overwhelming presence again and to the fact that this handsome bear of a man was indeed her husband.

"You're looking good, darlin'," Sy grinned, making her spin for him. "I missed you."

Ada couldn’t resist his smile. "I missed you too, Sy." She confessed, handing him the still warm cinnamon roll in its paper bag.

He accepted the pastry with a smile and started eating it immediately but not before throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began making their way to the parking lot. Sy was eager to get her out of the crowd and have her just to him himself.

"So, what's the plan, darlin'?" Sy inquired with mischief to his voice, balling up the paper bag with his free hand and throwing it inside the trash can. "Did you book that hotel with the jacuzzi in the bedroom again?"

It had become a tradition of some sort between them. They would always spend his first night back at that hotel: they'd order some room service and eat in the jacuzzi. Though, usually, they would first end up on together on the bed.

Ada stopped suddenly in her tracks, making him still behind her. She smiled sheepishly. "Don't be mad," she started, his smile falling at once, "but your family is waiting for us in the parking lot. Your mom insisted that we celebrate your homecoming at the restaurant. Something about you missing Thanksgiving just by a couple days."

Sy groaned, thinking about the evening that now expected him. He'd been flying for God knows how many hours, all he wanted was a warm bath and Ada whichever way she'd let him have her, not a damn dinner party.

"I'm sorry, Sy."

He shook his head and leaned down to kiss her forehead again. "Don't worry, darlin'. I know it ain’t your fault."

As soon as they reached the open-air parking lot, Sy's nephew and niece start running up to him, having escaped their parents' grasp. His family was waiting for him with cheers and a 'welcome home, soldier' banner. Sy hated that kind of attention and she found it cringy as well, but she had been unable to stop his mother. Ada watched him hug the kids and lift them up into the air, making them laugh as she walked up to the machine to pay the fee.

Her hand trembled as she inserted the ticket into the slot, missing the opening a few times. She was happy - no, scratch that - she was ecstatic to have her husband back. It's just that, could you really say 'back' when there was never truly a 'before', a 'there'?

They had met when he was already deployed, but on a short leave back in Austin. They spent three weeks together, got married and he returned to Iraq. Since then, the longest stretch of time they had been together had been twenty days. Neither of them had ever gotten settled into married life and now he was 'back'. For good. Which was wonderful and foreign and overwhelming all at once.

Ada paid the fee and returned to join them, finding Sy hugging his mother. She smiled at the sight. She walked over to greet her sister-in-law and her husband, confirming that they'd meet up at the restaurant. With that, she went to the car, deciding to give Sy some more time with his family, and herself an occasion to take a few breaths and calm her buzzing heart.

"You didn't tell me my mom had gotten herself a boyfriend." Sy grumbled immediately as he sat down next to her in the car, putting on his seatbelt.

Ada turned on the engine and backed out of the spot. "I knew you wouldn't like it," she defended before casting a side glance at him. "Besides, I figured it wasn't my place to tell you."

Sy hummed noncommittally, removing his cap to rake his hand through his cropped hair.

"Though, as much as I don't exactly like your mother," Ada added quietly, "she's been on her own ever since your dad passed a couple years ago. With your father gone and you away, she must have felt lonely.”

°°°

Sy spent the rest of the drive mulling over her words in his head. The fuck was that supposed to mean? As soon as a woman feels lonely, she takes up a boyfriend?! Was Ada lonely too while he was away and… He wanted to ask if she was implying anything but then one look at her and he decided against it. Breathing out deeply, he forces himself to relax. He was just stressed out and on edge.

It was inevitable that things would have changed while he had been away. That was something he thought about frequently late at night when he got to be alone. Still, he hoped things hadn’t changed all too much. Ada still looked just as she had on their road trip to Vegas, focused on the road but leaning back on her seat, just one hand on the wheel with a grin on her lips. His wife loved driving.

"You got your nails done." Sy commented, already hoping the whole dinner thing would be over quickly so that he could go home with her.

Ada turned to him with a chuckle for a second, wriggling her graceful fingers and red painted nails, her wedding band reflecting the light. "I wanted to look pretty for you."

Sy huffed. "You always look pretty to me, Ada," he said and then watched her scoff.

"Or maybe, I just wanted to make sure I'd be able to scratch you up nicely," she wife winked.

Yeah, this dinner thing couldn't be over fast enough.

°°°

Ada saw him eat so much over dinner, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to be sick later. And, of course, the double serving of smoked ribs had to be accompanied with generous amounts of beer and whisky. She didn0t blame him, though. Out of curiosity, she once researched what they ate while on deployment and it looked anything but tasty. If she had been in his shoes, she'd have been eating her own weight in pizza and brownies right now.  

It also didn’t help that his brother-in-law and his mom's new boyfriend, Phil from the hardware store, kept asking him about Baqubah and even touching on the subject of the explosion. It was obvious how uncomfortable the subject made him, his grip tightening around his knife and his jaw tensing up so tightly, she could imagine his teeth grinding.

So, Sy kept asking for refills, raising his glass, and giving them vague answers, but it seemed they didn't get the hint. At least, the subject changed when his sister interrupted the conversation to announce she was expecting again. A little girl.

Ada used the moments of cheer that followed to excuse herself from the table and go to the restroom. She was still somewhat nervous and her face was damp. She would have given anything for a glass of scotch at that moment but she was driving tonight.

Helen, Sy's mom appeared right behind her just as she was washing her hands. She hoped the woman would just disappear inside a stall but she wasn’t that lucky.

"Jack is back." Helen stated, arms crossed. A shiver ran through Ada's spine, damn she hated that woman. "For good."

Ada dried her hands with a paper towel, looking back at her mother-in-law through the mirror. "He is."

"Now's the time to prove yourself to this family and show us that Sy was right in marrying you.”

Before Ada could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Helen finally disappeared inside a stall. Rolling her eyes, Ada went to leave the restrooms when Helen decides to add some more venom. "Maybe a good start would be calling him by his first name, as a wife would."

°°°

"When do you start at Camp Mabry?" Ada asked, looking away from the steering wheel to glance at him for a second. Sy looked exhausted, not that she could she blame him after three different flights and a seemingly endless dinner. They had finally called it a night once the kids had started getting fussy.

"January 15th." He replied. "But they want me to stop by before then to have a look around the base and sign the contract."

"You're going to boss the hell out of the new recruits," Ada laughed, getting him to lighten up and even chuckle.

"You'd be surprised to know I'm actually a fair and considerate captain," Sy defended himself.

Next to him, Ada huffed as she tried stiffing the bubble of laughter, trying not miss the right exit off the main road.

"I just value discipline and compliance a lot," he added, his tone growing teasing.

This time, she was unable to stop her laugh. "Believe me, I know you do."

The drive was a short one to their house in the suburbs and she was soon parking her in their driveaway.

Ada fumbled with the key as she tried opening the front door, nervousness setting back in as she felt Sy standing behind her, holding his duffel bag. He followed in quickly after her, once she had finally managed to open the door.

"Welcome home, captain!" Ada cheered in her silliest tone as he discarded his bag on the floor.

Then, before she could even react, Sy was on her. His arms lifted her up, his body caging hers against the wall before capturing her lips in the most ferocious kiss she could imagine.

Out of instinct, her legs locked around his waist and her hands dug into his shoulders, unwilling to let go of him now that he was finally there. Sy grinned against her lips, amused by her fervour, not that he felt any different.

He broke off the kiss as he pulled them away from the wall, freeing a hand to shrug her coat off her shoulders. "You ain't gonna need that, darlin'," he promised, throwing the coat in the direction of the kitchen, not caring where it landed.

Then his mouth latched on to her throat, forcing a delicious moan out of his wife as he carefully manoeuvred them upstairs, still steady on his feet despite the alcohol. Sy was almost surprised when he pushed open the door to their bedroom with his foot and it didn't squeak, but that thought was fleeting as Ada started rolling her hips against his. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the explosion or his guilt, only the woman in his arms.

Unceremoniously, he let her fall on the bed, the urgency now flowing through his blood keeping him from doing things the gentleman way. Ada didn't mind, giggling as she unzipped her dress and slid the red thing over her head, along with her bra. Apparently, she had decided to forego panties. Sy stood there, almost mesmerised as he watched her, suddenly not certain if he dared tainting her with his touch but Ada quickly made that decision for him as she got up on her knees.

"A little less staring and a little more undressing, captain," she purred with a smirk, her fingers determined as they made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

"That's it, darlin'. You're in for it now," Sy roared, pulling her in for another furious kiss before pushing her back against the mattress, making her land on her back as he got undressed in record time. Fuck, was he hard.

"Open up for your captain." Sy ordered and Ada complied instantly, her legs falling open for him as she peered up at him, holding herself up on her elbows and worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "That's a good girl," he praised.

Without losing another second, Sy settled in between her legs, wrapping his strong arms around her thighs and parting them to their limits. He wanted to worship her body the way she deserved, show her exactly just how appreciative he was of her, how much he craved her, but it had been months and Sy was a starving man who had just been presented with the perfect meal.

"Fuck Sy!" Ada screamed out, her back arching off the bed the instant he licked her just where she craved him most. He chuckled against her, marvelling at how wet she already was for him.

She tried closing her legs around his head, rejoicing at the feeling of his beard rubbing against her sensitive skin and never wanting him to leave again, but his arms were too strong for her clenching thighs. She was left defenceless against his assault, with no choice but to obscenely moan her pleasure and let herself cum against his tongue as his thumb expertly massaged her clit.

The coil inside her snapped and her body tensed up before letting go just as suddenly, her now damp back falling back on the mattress. "Fuck, Sy." Ada breathed out, her chest heaving as she tried to reopen her eyes only to find her husband playfully gazing up at her, smirking with her arousal glistening on his beard. The sight alone almost made her cum again. "I'll never let you leave again!"

He smiled in response, placing a kiss on her lower stomach before crawling up her body. "I've no intention to, baby," he promised.

Ada caught a glimpse of his hard, flushed erection as his body slid over hers, realizing in her post-orgasmic haze that she was in for an even bigger treat now. She could taste herself in his mouth as they kissed, his hand slithering behind her back to seize her shoulder and hold her closer. Teasingly, he started rolling his hips, his hard clock rubbing against her slick cunt, coating himself with arousal before finally, he found his way inside her, burying his head next to hers in the pillow.

Ada whimpered as he did so, her eyes tearing up as his clock slid inside her. She had evidently grown unaccustomed to his girth and length in his absence. Sy paused immediately, his muscles tense as he looked at her with concern. “You okay?” She nodded in silence, wanting him to start moving but Sy looked unconvinced, using all his strength to keep still despite his desire to fuck her right into the mattress. Without a warning, Ada tightly wrapped her legs around his hips, making him go deeper. Sy let out a reverberating groan. “God, darlin’. I missed you.”

He started thrusting into her with such vigour, such determination it felt as if he was trying to bury himself so deep inside her, no one would ever be able to pry him away from her again. It did hurt, her cervix was getting battered with each of his hard movements but she found herself enjoying the pain because it was him; it was Sy and he was right there with her, back in her arms, and she could feel his heart beat beneath her fingertips as her hand gripped at his chest.

"Fuck, I'm... I’m," Ada gasped incoherently, her nails now scratching the skin of his back. Sy was sure there would be marks there in the morning which made him enjoy the sensation even more.

"I got you," he rasped. If possible, he pulled her even tighter to him, his pubic bone now rubbing against hers in that delicious way only he was able to do. Her slick walls were now contracting around him, her second orgasm impending. "Fuck," he groaned, his breath coming out in a stutter. "Are you...Can I...?"

Sy didn't have to word it, she knew what he meant. "Cum in me, Sy. Please," she almost begged.

Her words did it. His hips stuttered as he pushed in deep just when his orgasm washed over him, exploding inside her. His face contorted with pleasure and that sight alone had her fast tracking her fall over the figurative edge. He had his face buried on the crook of her neck, muffling his groans and moans against her skin as the dam gave way within her.

°°°

Sy grunted against his pillow, slowly waking up the following morning. He was convinced he was just rousing after a very nice dream and he was ready to toss his alarm clock across the room, furious at the object for interrupting his dream, that for once, had been a good one. With a startle, Sy realized that no blasting alarm had woken him up but the sunlight on his face. Opening his eyes, he felt almost as if on foreign ground. He was home.

As quietly as he could manage, Sy turned around in bed, seeking his wife only to find her side empty. Just at that moment, he heard cursing coming up from the kitchen and scoffed. He’d bet his life Ada was cracking eggs, something she hated.

Feeling rested and in a much more relaxed mood than the previous day, Sy got out of bed and started searching for a pair of boxer briefs so he could go join her downstairs when he caught a sniff of himself. Fuck, did he stink. How Ada hadn’t thrown him out of bed, he didn’t know.

Out of habit, Sy hurried to the en-suite bathroom, wanting to shower as fast as possible before realizing that this time around, it was different. He wasn’t going back, he didn’t have to rush, their time together wasn’t counted. With that in mind, Sy forced himself to take his time, enjoying the act of brushing his teeth in a bathroom that smelled nice and showering with warm water. Ada had purchased his usual brands of shower gel and toothpaste, he noticed, even putting a red bow around his brand-new toothbrush by the sink. Even though he initially wanted to take his time to enjoy it, Sy still ended up rushing as he dried himself with a blue fluffy towel he didn’t recognize from his previous stay. He didn’t bother putting on anything more than his boxer briefs before heading downstairs. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t keep them on for long either.

Sy walked into one of the best sights he had even seen, when he entered the kitchen. Ada was standing in front of the stove, rhythmically tapping the black spatula against her naked thigh as she focused on the eggs and bacon she was preparing. The thin negligee - or whatever she called it, he always forgot - barely covered her ass and that outfit alone was one of the reasons he never minded that she always cracked up the heat so high, he felt like he was back under the hot desert sun.

Silent and stealthy like a predator despite his stature, Sy sneaked up on her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her startle before relaxing once she noticed it was him. She smelled heavenly, Sy thought, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Watcha got cooking, darlin'?"

"Obviously breakfast," she sassed, making him softly pinch her ass in response. Ada squealed and jumped up. "Good morning to you too, Sy," she said but not before slapping the handle of the spatula against his thigh. He decided to let it slide... for now.

"Morning darlin'," he answered, kissing the crown of her head before darting his fingers into the pan and picking up a piece of bacon. It was sizzling hot, but the taste was worth it. He had missed being home! Speaking of being home... "What do you say we take the food and coffee upstairs and have ourselves breakfast in bed?" His tone failed to hide his true intentions.

Ada scoffed, the back of her head rubbing on his hairy chest and she shook her head. "Nice try but I actually intend to feed you. Your mother will have my head if I let you go hungry."

It was Sy's turn to laugh, his hands now roaming her body as she leaned forward to turn off the stove, pressing her ass against his crotch and eliciting a husky groan from him. "I'm hungry enough to eat both breakfast and you, don't worry."

Ada turned around, a huge grin on her angelic face. "Alright, you win. What do you say, we have breakfast, we do the kinky and then go grocery shopping?"

Sy tried hiding his smile but it was a lost cause. He loved it when she talked like that. He loved her, point. "Yes, ma'am."

[oryst]

thinking aloud about cameras and photographs and souls in TCOM here to pre-empt character limit

from my notes: "he was cutting a [...] photograph, in the intro sequence, and photographs have a special meaning. so we can't let this guy get away with our photograph." and "the guy cutting the photographs... photographs have a very special meaning in this game and, in this case, it means we cannot let this camera scout get away."

i've talked about this a bit before somewhere but i think that photographs cut by the scissor man must have some kind of special quality to them that makes them different from standard photographs. i don't think that just /any/ photograph would work for him. i know that i said something about them needing to "be taken with intent" but maybe it's just something to do with the camera used. cameras powered by souls? that's why the scouts are such a problem. you could tear the soul from one of them and take its camera for yourself and the images it produces might be "normal" again. it could also have something to do with the process of developing photographs? i don't know enough about that yet. darkrooms are a thing. maybe they've built machines (powered by souls, of course) that cause photographs to develop with the necessary qualities for severing.

what happens when a photograph is cut? the target probably dies. maybe a partial cut to the image inflicts damage on only that part of the target (this makes me wonder about New and Spy and their missing limbs...). what about other kinds of damage? would crumpling or burning a photograph affect the target? does defacing/retouching affect them? that could explain why some people look weird. i once did a shallow read about the history of photographic editing. they really just painted the waists over with dark to look like the background. could the scissors that the man has be the thing that allows photographs to be affected? maybe other things don't do anything.

"check that everyone's work order is valid [and] record their voice ticket." do they have photographic ID? are all those who enter the City required to have their photograph taken? that seems a touch /too/ conspicuous for the Corporation. something that would seem suspicious of them. i think that the scouts are mobile surveillance and that there are also security cameras all over the place. they may be hidden. a kind of early CCTV, but the time period doesn't really match quite right. if not stationary cameras, then maybe some kind of microphone/recorder/listening devices? why are /photographs/ affected by the scissors, rather than wax cylinders or vinyl records? there's a heavy emphasis on sound. the voice ticket/pass thing and "voice-activated locks" that would be used in puzzles. sound is important. photographs have a "very special meaning" as well. it's a kind of audio-visual thing.

i'm not sure if the "clock maestro" from the concept art was repurposed/changed to be the scissor man. i can't pin down the vibes of the clock maestro at all but i think he's definitely inspired by the time theft thing from Momo/The Gray Gentlemen (which is confirmed as an influence on TCOM). scissor man seems inspired by the concept of "cutting the threads of fate" perhaps? he seems to me like a vast implacable entity, kind of like the Ferryman. he isn't part of the Corporation for real... i think that he was "hired" by them and they think they've got him under their thumb, but in actuality he is just watching to see what they do with their Machine. he's waiting to see if they slip up. he's curious how they'll handle it. he's curious what will happen. i think that he knows about the Machines/Transmission/whatever the hell is going on and that he's not going to tell anyone what he knows. not necessarily an /antagonist/ but certainly not a hero or good person. the same kind of "evil" as a natural disaster- a tornado doesn't /know/ that it's destroying your home. it just is a thing that exists and our problems don't belong to it. the scissor man might be a representation of death itself. a kind of ambassador between the living world and dead world. again.... a ferryman. a "pay me an obol and i will take you across the river" ferryman, not a "kidnap children to take them to the Maw" ferryman.

Jinx might be more of the kidnapper type. the pied piper. the rats and children follow me out of town. he can play music to enchant and control spirits, similar to how Ten can play melodious sounds to soothe (and, gameplay-wise, control) metrognomes. the Corporation sends Jinx out to collect souls for them to use. to bring back children to turn to workers? i think that children might see him as being less... creepy/weird than he seems to actually be lol. another enchantment perhaps. a shapeshifter? what is /up/ with the cat thing? voted worst catboy 2005. i like the idea of a "boss battle" with him where he would be a "summoner" type of opponent who brings up waves of souls that you have to deal with (peacefully!!!). tries to distract you with them. maybe you play sounds opposite to him to neutralize his effects. maybe you harmonize with him to make the effect too strong to control, somehow. create an ambugaton!! a crazed spirit mosh pit. i want his battle theme/character theme to have creepy tinkly instrumentation and wonky/weird vibes.

the Conductor/xylophone man can also harness music/sound to affect souls. he could have been "trained" to do such a thing (this leans heavily on Kei's post-TCOM ideas! Ten becoming the successor/a new Conductor, as if it's something that can be passed down or taught). he also makes regular music too, i guess. he and Jinx hate each other, if they have any interaction at all. he might get along with Ghost because she likes music. she likes to hear about his newest ideas and compositions. he might have convinced the Corporation to "loosen the leash" on Ghost and let her wander the City a bit cos he made up some crap about isolation negatively affecting her control of the Machine or something. they're tightening the figurative leash back up more as of recent events/immediately before the start of the game. he doesn't agree with what the Corporation is doing (or their methods, at least- he knows that kidnapping and theft are wrong but he might believe in the Machine needing to exist) but things could get a lot worse if he wasn't in on it, so here he is. 

TL;DR look at this graaaph

[awanderingdeal]

5 times a Tremblay sibling kept a secret and 1 time they did not - Noelle

Hi! So, I was going to write this as a 5+1 one-shot, but each individual story has gotten a bit too lengthy for that. I’m having great fun exploring the Tremblay siblings and their relationships with one another. I hope you enjoy it too!

CW: forced outing and wedding talk. Please message me if you feel like something needs to be added to this list. 

Rating: T

See my masterlist for future and previous chapters!

Thank you to @the-mouse-in-a-jumper and @anderperries  for betaing this!

And last, but most certainly not least, a massive thank you to @lumosinlove for the creation of the sweater weather universe and the wonderful OC’s (including the Tremblay siblings) within it.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Keep them covered,” Noelle said, her voice laced with a hint of hesitation. She was confident that Sydney was going to love the dress, it was an exact replica of the one that her sister had drawn in her wedding scrapbook. The problem was in the obtaining of that scrapbook. 

"They are!" Sydney laughed, “When can I see? Am I finally going to find out why you have been holed up in here?” 

Noelle tried to run her fingers through her buzz cut. A nervous habit. She still wasn't used to the short length even 3 weeks after the spontaneous decision. It was now or never. "Okay, you can open them,” she rushed out, squeezing her own eyes shut as she said the words, not wanting to see Sydney's reaction. 

“Wow, Nolly. It’s beautiful.” Sydney gasped. Noelle opened her eyes to see Sydney's hand reaching out to brush against the delicate ivory lace. "It looks just like -" Sydney paused, her eyes narrowing as she whipped her head around to look back at Noelle. Yeah, there was the anger that Noelle had been expecting. "How did you know? I've only - Did you? You couldn't have! That book is in my - What the fuck, Noelle?!" Sydney spat out the words. Noelle wanted to explain but the questions just kept coming. "How could you? I can't believe you'd invade my privacy like this." Sydney's hand finally dropped from where it was inspecting the dress.

"Syd, please. Just let me explain," Noelle begged, "I know I've done some pretty selfish things before, but I promise there's an explanation." 

Sydney raised an eyebrow and Noelle suddenly felt like she was ten years old again, standing beneath their father's steely gaze, explaining their neighbour's broken window.

"Oh, go on then, Noelle. Wriggle yourself out of this one," Sydney scoffed.

"Okay, well," Noelle began. "So, maybe this whole thing didn't start off with the best of intentions. I needed to borrow some money and I still owed you for those concert tickets and I know you keep emergency cash in your keepsake box," she paused, risking a look at her sister. She looked as furious as Noelle expected. Still, it was Sydney, and not Logan, so she was still standing there. "Bear with me, I'm getting to the part where you don't kill me, promise."

"Get there quicker," Sydney ground out. She might have been the most patient of her siblings, but she was still a Tremblay after all. 

"Alright, alright," Noelle flashed her hands in surrender. "I was going to replace the money, I swear. I just needed $100 quickly and I didn't want to ask Papa et Maman again so soon after last time."

"Noelle, I don't see how your ability to drain your allowance in record time gets to you stealing something that was clearly private," Sydney snapped. 

"Well, I was looking for the money when I came across your wedding scrapbook. I'm not going to lie, I started looking through it with the intention of absolutely rinsing you. Wait," Noelle quickly rooted through her purse, finding the black scrapbook, 'The Dream' written in Sydney's precise lettering across it. "Here," Noelle breathed, holding it out. Sydney snatched it, clutching it to her chest. 

"It's just, you always chirped at me for doing things like this growing up, and there you were… Anyway, that doesn't matter now. I was going through it and it became obvious that," Noelle reached out to touch Sydney's arm. "If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to. We can pretend I never saw."

"Bit fucking late for that now, isn't it Nolly," Sydney's eyes were watering. She never cried. 

Noelle worried at her lip, "I'm sorry," she breathed. "I didn't think. You know I never think."

“So yeah, you established that I was raging lesbian." Sydney pulled away from her, rubbing at her eyes. Noelle winced, both at the words and the obvious wall that Sydney was putting up. They'd worked on their relationship a lot in the past few years and Noelle was afraid she might have ruined it. "Carry on, because I really am struggling to see how this dress came from that."

"Yeah, so I realised...that." Noelle took a deep breath, knowing that she had a limited number of words before she lost Sydney's attention. "And I wanted you to know that I don’t care, that I love you, but you know me, I’m not really the best with words. And then I saw the dress and I knew I could make it...and just...Sydney, please don’t hate me.”

There was a deafening silence as Sydney paced back and forth. It was long and Noelle wanted to say more, but she didn’t know what. She watched as Sydney stopped in front of the mannequin. It seemed like an age before she moved. “I wasn’t ready,” Sydney whispered. “I wasn’t ready and you took that from me. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me but you have. When are you going to learn to think, Noelle?”

Noelle didn’t reply. She couldn’t reply. Not when the words coming out of Sydney’s mouth sounded so much like the ones she had heard a thousand times before from their mother. Her eyes dropped to the floor, feeling like a scolded child. Honestly, she hadn’t thought of how much this could hurt Sydney. Sure, she had been nervous that Sydney would be angry that she had read the scrapbook, but mostly because Sydney liked to pretend she was above that kind of thing. “I’m sorry.”

Noelle heard Sydney turn around and walk the short distance to stand in front of her. “Look at me,” Sydney insisted. Despite the fact that she didn’t want to see the hurt in her sister’s eyes, Noelle followed the instruction, not wanting to annoy her any more than she already had. 

“You can say sorry all you like. It means nothing if you keep doing the same stupid things. You're twenty now, Nolly. You’re going to be playing professionally next year if the scouts have any sense. You can’t keep fucking up,” Sydney lectured.

Noelle squashed the urge to tell Sydney where to get off with her parenting. She didn’t really have the room to complain. “Okay, so you don’t like it. I’ll get rid of it. Can we just pretend this didn’t happen?” 

Sydney gave a small laugh. It was the last thing Noelle had expected. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it, it’s perfect.” 

Noelle chanced a smile, “It’s all your design. I didn’t know you could draw like that, honestly.”

“I didn’t draw it,” Sydney said. Noelle noticed her playing with the fleur-de-lis hanging around her neck. She was nervous. “Spoons did.”

It took Noelle a beat to reply, but when she did it was loud, “Wait. Spoons. Spoons as in Spooner? As in Melodie Spooner. As in the Star’s Melodie Spooner. As in your team mate, Melodie Spooner! Wait a minute.” Her eyes locked with Sydney’s, “Did you tell your team before you told us?”  

“No, I haven’t told the team yet.” Sydney sighed. “Not that I would apologise even if I had. I can come out to whoever I want, whenever I want,” she added indignantly. 

“If you haven’t told the team yet…” Noelle began, and then she squealed with excitement. “Holy shit! Is she your girlfriend? Do you have a girlfriend? This is so cute!”

Sydney clamped her hand over Noelle’s mouth, “Tell the whole house, why don’t you.”

Noelle stopped bouncing up and down. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just so happy for you. You know I really don’t care that you’re...you know?”

Sydney grimaced as she pulled her hand away from Noelle’s mouth, rubbing the traces of saliva on her shirt. “You are aware that you can say lesbian, right?” 

“Right, yeah, sorry,” Noelle mumbled. “So...you like the dress? Will you wear it to your wedding?”

Sydney rolled her eyes, “A bit premature, don’t you think? And, we already established that I liked the dress. I am still mad at you, by the way. Breathe a word about this to anybody and I will not forgive you. I mean it. No second chances on this one.”

Noelle nodded quickly, pretending to zip her mouth closed, “I won’t tell anybody, I swear.” 

Sydney nodded, and Noelle watched her take in the dress. It was relatively simple: a halter neck with an empire waist that fell to the floor. 

“I did add one small addition, I hope you don’t mind,” Noelle said, manipulating the material of the dress just below the waist. 

“Pockets,” Sydney admired. “Genius.”

“I thought so.” Noelle agreed. She cocked her head. “So, I know you said that you were still mad at me, but can I use this for my final?”

“Don’t push your luck, Nolly.”

[bluesockets]

HUGO WEIDERMANN ( HE/HIM ) is a CIS MALE, THIRTY-SEVEN year old THERAPIST & PSYCHIATRIST who has been living in Moorbrooke for TWO YEARS. They were born on MARCH 5 and right now, they are currently residing in REDGRAVE GROVE. It has been said that they look suspiciously like MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER and if they had to choose a song to describe themselves, they would choose HEAVY BALLOON by FIONA APPLE. ( ox, 21+, cst, he/him )

❮ it grows relentless like the teeth of a rat it's just got to keep on gnawing at me !! ❯ TW : ILLNESS, DRINKING MENT. !

full name : hugo weidermann. nicknames : he actually hates most derivatives of his name. calling him ‘huey’ is a one way ticket to getting your number blocked. pronouns : he/him. age : thirty-seven. date of birth : march 5, 1984. zodiac : pisces. gender : cis male. sexuality : gay. hometown : munich, germany. current residence : redgrave grove. languages spoken : german + english.

BIO !

—— hugo was born into a moderately wealthy family right in the middle of munich, germany. his parents pushed a lot of their #grindset on him and his baby sister. unfortunately for him, this meant a future of perfectionism and unrelenting gifted kid syndrome. he sacrificed a lot of his social needs for grades early in his life and after a while, it all became second nature. once in a blue moon he’d talk to his peers in scouting but he’d stutter, stumble over his words, and never quite found the right things to say. figuring himself a lost cause, he studied. he helped his mom with the garden. maybe occasionally played half life or duke nukem on the family computer. all of this dedication to perfection made him a shoe-in for harvard university, all the way over in the united states. his parents, father especially, encouraged the idea. that was all he needed to get himself on a plane to massachusetts. he was just glad his family could afford frequent flights back home, in case everything went to shit. —— when he first landed, hugo thought he’d only be in the states for school, but he ended up liking it a lot more than he thought he would. after finishing school and taking up a residency in downtown boston, he moved to new york. he made a good amount of money, was able to keep in touch with the few friends he met in college, and even secured a few long term relationships along the way. he hit his thirties and finally felt that he reached a point of contentment. this ... didn’t last long. —— right before he was able to buy his first house in the city he fell ill and, after seeing more doctors than he could count on both hands and feet, was diagnosed with lupus and rheumatoid arthritis. this wasn’t something he thought he was going to be able to handle by himself, so his sister came down from her home in germany to assist him with his daily needs. the two of them definitely couldn’t afford new york and medical bills on hugo’s salary alone, which led them to pack their bags and head to ( what his sister considered ) the next best option. moorbrooke, maine !! he wasn’t too stoked about this. he’d be leaving most of his support system behind and he knew absolutely nothing about the area, but his sister found a job there and it was a good place for him to start a private practice of his own. he’s still struggling over the loss of independence and the complete change from where he was in life before, but he’s coping ! after spending a lot of time inside and away from the people of moorbroke, he finally thinks he might be ready to actually make a life here. even if he wasn’t, his sister isn’t gonna move the two of them any time soon.

TIDBITS !

he’s a very nice dude and will totally engage with people, he just cannot bring himself to let his walls down. you really gotta know hugo well if you wanna have a conversation about anything serious without him deflecting the whole damn time.

his accent .... god rest his soul. he’s been living here for 20 years and sometimes people still need to take a second to understand him. especially when he drinks. two beers in and the man needs a translator.

speaking of drinking, he doesn’t do it often, and he can’t hold his liquor. i’d actually advise people to never give him alcohol. like, ever.

was on the rowing team in college. please don’t ask him about it. he’ll talk about it forever.

if it weren’t for his dog and his bees he’d be at rock bottom. outside of writing ( which i will get to in a jiffy ), beekeeping is his favorite hobby. ask him nicely and he might give you a jar of honey.

before coming down with lupus and RA he wrote two very boring books for psychiatrists and psychiatrists only. now that his focus has shifted away from his career a little bit, he’s in the middle of writing a poetry collection.

you will find this man at every bookstore in a 10 mile radius. he can’t be in the sun for too long so instead he likes to look at stuff he promises himself he won’t buy and then buys it anyway.

CONNECTIONS !

clients

he’s got fifteen clients on his caseload just to keep himself from losing his mind. he specializes in family, grief, trauma, and stress but doesn’t limit himself too much because of how small the town is. what i’m saying is : let hugo prescribe your characters drugs.

fellow beekeepers

he’s kept to himself a lot during his time in moorbrooke but his sister used to force him out at least some of the time. she drives him to beekeepers association events and conventions often enough, i would imagine it’d be a lot easier for him to talk to someone who shares the same niche hobby !! if your muse doesn’t keep bees, i’m always down for him to talk to some of the people who buy his honey at farmer’s markets.

former close friends

hugo met a lot of people ( particularly on harvard’s rowing team ) in college and during his stint in new york. i’m sure it’d be great for him to meet someone he knew up here because he’s honestly so tired of having to get used to new situations by himself.

flirtationship but hugo is oblivious the entire time

this guy is definitely the type to flirt with people on accident. i think it’d be really fuckin funny if he was flirting back and forth w someone he wasn’t consciously flirting with in the first place.

😏

listen the only thing i love playing out more slow burn self improvement and found family is romance. he’s been single since he was in new york and i think he deserves a little smooch. please dm me if your muse is also deserving of a little smooch.

etc, etc, etc !

there’s definitely more i want. i want everything you have to give me. however, if you’re in need of specifics, i would love to see : his doctors, people he can become friends with + let his walls down around, people he can teach german to, other authors, beta readers, and neighbors !

what am i missing. ah, yes.

pinterest / spotify [coming soon!]

[ayatosmlktea]

hey! this is gonna be a bit angsty but could you do a little thing where the reader is from the underground, and like levi, she was taken away but she left behind this little kid she was taking care of and levi and whoever else has to escort her and she finds the little kid dead and she breaks down and blames herself, and neither of them have ever seen her like this and levi asks the other person to get out and they have like an intimate moment? sorry if this is stupid haha, i love your writing!

TW: Child Death 

𝑨𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 

Y/N had watched as Levi had evaded the scouts with ease, she had high hopes that he wouldn’t be caught. He probably wouldn’t have if she hadn’t got in the way, it had been a stupid miscalculation on her part. She was usually good at keeping her cool under intense pressure which was the main reason Levi had allowed her to tag along with his group. 

Their bodies collided together painfully, his knee connecting with her stomach knocking the air out of her lungs. Her reflexes were good but nowhere as fast as Levi’s and the weight of her body falling on top of his prevented him from being able to make a getaway. The grimy taste of dirt filled her mouth as they both hit the ground, the residual force of their odm gear sent them hurtling across the dirty floor of an alley. Y/N was covered in dirt and her clothes were wet with a substance she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the origin of. Two swords were held inches from their faces before they could scramble to their feet and make an escape. Levi sighed heavily underneath her and she couldn’t help but feel guilty that their capture had been her fault.

Needless to say, Y/N had been shocked when Levi had agreed to join the scouts. She couldn’t judge his choice, a free ticket to the surface was something they’d been working for. Isabel and Farlan would no doubt be excited to see a world outside of their bleak upbringing but there was one thought weighing heavily on her mind. The heavy hand nudging against her shoulder blade urging her forward made her well aware that trying to escape last minute was out of the question.

In all honesty it was probably what had distracted her from keeping up with Levi’s maneuvering before. Y/N hadn’t seen Danny in a few days and the voice at the back of her head that he was in some kind of danger was eating away at her conscience. She had been looking for him all day through dimly lit streets with no sign of the blond boy. Levi had insisted he go with her, he knew she had been taking care of him long before she had joined their group. 

She never told anyone the details of how they had met, Y/N preferred keeping her personal life as private as possible especially where Danny was concerned. The less people who knew about him the better, but their capture provided a way for Y/N to get him to the surface if Erwin allowed it. It was a lot to ask of someone who had been intent on killing Levi mere moments ago but she knew without her Danny wouldn’t survive on his own. He wasn’t like them, the primitive drive for survival that had been embedded into Levi and Y/N was not in his nature. Her face remained impassive as they were led through the streets of the underground for the last time.

“Excuse me Erwin, there’s someone I’m...taking care of. They won’t get by without me, would it be possible to bring them too?” She blurted out, the lump of anxiety pressed against her ribcage making each breath burn in her chest. The uncertainty in her voice was unlike her typically calm and aloof persona, it had Levi casting a side glance her way. He knew who she was referring to, but he also knew that she was asking for a lot. The fact that they were bringing not one, but four people to the surface was unheard of.

“I’m afraid not. You four are a special case, I’m sorry.” Hanging her head in defeat she gives a curt nod. Y/N knew the chances of Erwin agreeing to let her bring Danny with them were slim to none but if she didn’t at least try and ask she would’ve beat herself up over it.

Not that she didn’t think about him everyday, Danny was her motivation to become stronger, faster. Better able to protect the people she cared about, she was not going to repeat the same mistake that had gotten them caught in the first place. It had been a couple of months since they’d joined the scouts...merely a few weeks since they’d lost Isabel and Farlan. Y/N needed something to distract her from the empty void in her heart, it crept up on her in the dead of night preventing her from getting any sleep. Levi was also taking it hard, shouldering the responsibility for their deaths alone despite her numerous attempts at telling him that it wasn’t his fault. 

Levi was shutting her out and the loneliness combined with her constant guilt over abandoning Danny was slowly breaking her. Erwin becoming commander gave her the chance she’d been patiently waiting for. Y/N was not one to shy away from authority, growing up in the underground had given her thick skin. It was late, insomnia was getting the best of her and instead of moping around in bed she decided to ask Erwin for a long overdue favour. The dim light under his door let her know that he was still awake. Y/N wasn’t surprised to find Levi in Erwin’s office, the pair had become closer since Levi had given up his mission of killing the newly appointed commander.

“Sir I’d like to request permission to go to the underground. Tomorrow.” Y/N steeled her nerves, fully prepared to be shut down but unwilling to give up so easily this time. Levi’s eyes widened the tiniest bit, surprised that she was still holding onto wanting to go back for the brat. Erwin said nothing for a while, the two of them in a silent stare down. Her efforts to push herself past her limits in training hadn’t gone unnoticed by Erwin. He figured that it was only a matter of time before coming to him with the same request that she had boldly asked of him.

“I have enough money to bring him up, he’ll live with me until I can find a suitable place for him to live. I don’t need anyone to escort me, all I’m asking for is your permission.” Erwin’s brow cocked at her plan. She’d clearly been thinking about this for a while. Levi had tried convincing Erwin after they had been brought to HQ, but it wasn’t in his  authority to bring up other citizens for free, even if they were young.

“Fine, but you will be escorted. Nothing personal, just standard procedure.” Y/N felt relief rush through her system, finally months of saving up would finally pay off. While she wasn’t thrilled about having to be escorted she would take it, not wanting to ruin a good thing. She only hoped that Danny would be able to forgive her for leaving him behind.

“Thank you sir!” Saluting him and turning on her heel she missed the way Levi’s eyes followed her across the room.

“I’m going with her” Levi stated once the door to Erwin’s office had been shut.

“I know”

♡    ♡    ♡ 

Y/N found herself unable to sleep, tossing and turning the entire night excited and yet dreading seeing Danny again. He’d barely been six years old when they had been separated and she could only pray that he had found a decent person to take him in. Despite barely getting a wink of sleep, Y/N was bouncing with nervous energy, although she wouldn’t show it on the outside.

“What are you doing?” She asked dryly, not entirely thrilled to deal with Levi’s colder than usual attitude.

“Erwin’s orders” He replied in an equally dry tone. He hadn’t meant to shut her out, it just happened to be easier than processing his own emotions and coming to the realization that he was relieved and grateful she was still with him. Levi knew that he couldn’t let her go back to the underground on her own, there were too many things that could go wrong. He didn’t want to deal with his feelings for her, call it what you would but Levi wouldn’t be able to survive losing Y/N. Especially after becoming romantically attached to her. 

Her leg bounced anxiously the duration of the ride, Levi knew he should have probably said something to help ease the anxiety she felt but the words in his head weren’t coming out right. So Levi settled to staring out of the carriage window trying to suppress the heavy lump of dread that had made itself at home in his stomach.

Levi’s nose crinkled in disgust at the familiar smell of the underground. Nothing had changed since they had left, their scouts uniform caught the attention of several onlookers. Y/N’s face remained void of emotion but Levi could see something change in her eyes. They held hope and anxiety.

 The escorts Erwin had sent with them followed Levi and Y/N closely as they weaved their way through familiar streets. Y/N and Levi had gotten the escorts to agree to letting them split up in order to cover more ground with one guard following each of them. Y/N was beginning to grow worried, she had checked all of Danny’s standard hiding places with no luck. There was one last place that she was going to check, she had hoped that he was smart enough to use their old house as a hideout until someone was able to take him in.

Walking along the street that led to their abandoned house filled Y/N with a sense of nostalgia she didn’t want. Holding her breath, her heart was pounding in her ears as she stepped inside the dimly lit building. Y/N wasn’t surprised to find their house completely ransacked. She resisted the urge to run her fingertips over dust coated countertops, knowing full well the lecture Levi was going to give her about germs was sure to follow.

Anxiety and fear were rapidly building up in her gut as she pushed open the door to her bedroom, heart jumping into her throat at the sight before her. Y/N wasn’t sure how to react, her feet moved on their own accord towards the small body lying in her bed. Ripped up shreds of paper scattered around Danny’s body.

“No no no this isn’t happening” she whispered, hot tears pricked at her eyes blurring her vision.

“Danny? It’s me...I came back” her voice came out strained against the lump in her throat. Y/N tried to bite back her sobs but it was futile, covering her mouth with one hand she used the other to pick up the pieces of paper. They were all scribbled with messages. Hungry, cold, sad, sleepy. The guilt that tore through her body was unbearable as she sank to her knees unleashing an inhumane cry of grief. Levi’s footsteps came bounding into the bedroom, grimacing at his gut feeling becoming a reality.

The soldiers stared on in a mixture of horror and stupor, Y/N had never been so emotional before. Not even Levi had seen her shed a single tear until now.

“Get out, I’ll handle this” The two escorts glanced at each other before nodding, the pained cries coming from Y/N were too much for them to handle.

“It’s my fault! It’s all my fault!” Y/N sobbed into her hands which were now covering her face. Levi’s heart ached for her and Danny. Approaching her cautiously, he knelt down on the ground next to her and pulled her into his chest without hesitation. Her hands gripped the material of his jacket burying her face in the crook of his neck.

“It’s not your fault.” Levi let her cry against him, his hands rubbing comforting circles on her back until she eventually passed out from exhaustion. He knew it was going to be a long time before Y/N recovered from this.

[bluerosesburnblue]

Pffffffffffffff alright. I’ll fully admit that KHUx is a flawed product, gameplay wise but it’s not... unsalvageable? Like I think I’ve pinpointed what its exact problems are while I was buying a LOT of medals thanks to the Re:Mind special draw deal

Gonna be drawing a lot of comparisons to Pokémon Masters, which does its gacha element surprisingly well (though the mercy pulls are... arguably just as bad or worse). And honestly, the Masters devs are some of the best mobile devs I’ve ever seen? They are so responsive to feedback and just <3 thanks, DeNA

Medals

The medals are... by far the biggest flaw in KHUx (an issue when it’s the core of your gameplay), though most of that is the power creep setting in now that the game’s been running for almost four years. That being said, the medal system would be improved exponentially if it cut down on one element: randomness

Now, it’s theoretically possible to cut down on randomness already; traits are offered for sale in the Moogle Shop. For 5000 Gems Each (1000 for VIP Exclusive). For the record, a 3000 Gem pack is worth $14.99 USD. That would net you all of 3 VIP exclusive traits. For $15. That’s fucking robbery like what??? Getting actual use out of duplicate draws should not be behind a paywall that steep

So, some possible ways that I came up with to cut down on the frustrating aspects of traits are:

When rolling for traits, make it so that you are unable to roll a trait that is already on the medal, since effects don’t stack (RIP my KH3 Phil that only had Poison Resists on him for a long time)

When rolling for Spirit Traits, make it so that you are unable to roll a trait of a lower value than what is already on the medal (If I roll Poison Resist 60% I should not be able to roll a Poison Resist 10% or, say, any Paralysis or Sleep Resist any lower than 60% either)

Even eliminating a few traits from the possible pool would lower the frustration greatly, while also increasing the value of drawing duplicate medals. Speaking of drawing duplicates...

There is rarely linear progression of medal power. What do I mean by that? Well, let’s look at Pokémon Masters. Every time you draw from the gacha, there is no real “waste” to it. Once you scout a member to your team (the gacha draw)... that’s it! You’ve got ‘em! Some team members are better than others, but there’s no “here’s a character who’s identical to this other one but better.” Drawing a duplicate character will increase the level of their special Sync Move by a stage, up to five levels. Once you get five levels, drawing a duplicate gets you a Power-Up Item of whatever tier the duplicate you drew was. These can be applied to any character of that tier to boost their stats, and 20 applied to a character raises their tier. Basically drawing duplicates only makes the characters you already have stronger, no downsides

And they’re also really good about the free characters! People said “hey, we really like these guys but we’re kinda bummed that we can’t level up their Sync Moves because they aren’t in the gacha” and DeNA went “oh, okay! How about we revamp the type-specific training events so that they hand out tickets that you can use to buy those level-ups? And, since the event offers extra experience to characters of that type, you can level them up while getting the powerup! And we’ll even throw in a lot of really cheap items for those tickets in the shop so that if they don’t have their level cap unlocked, you can do that, too!”

It’s... beautiful~

Meanwhile, in KHUx... I’ve been screwed over by duplicate draws countless times. They’re really only good for traits, and as discussed above, those are so random as to be near useless 80% of the time. And woe to the poor soul who finally gets perfect traits on a medal only to draw a Boosted version of that same medal, with no way to get that boosted medal to the same trait level and no way to get that medal with the perfect traits the boosted status

Progression of power is important in games. Like, really important. Some genres can get away with it (most roguelikes, I’d wager) but I dare say most gamers aren’t into that. Therefore, I propose the following:

Either give us the ability to carry traits over from one medal to another (ex. if you use a medal with traits on it to level up another medal of the same type, you can select any or all of those traits and have them applied to the medal you’re leveling up) OR allow boosted medals to transfer their boosted status when used to level up a medal of the same type (so using a Boosted KH3 Lea with no traits to level up a normal KH3 Lea with full traits will give you a Boosted KH3 Lea with those full traits)

If you really won’t let us do either of the above, then at least let 7 Star medals act as Guilt/Special Attack Boost dots on 6 Star medals. Seriously, they count for traits but not Guilt Dots? Why? Why is the more powerful version worse than the lower level one? I have so many 6 Star boosted medals that I can’t really get to 7 Star because for some reason drawing the 7 Star version is more common and Mickey & Brooms are a limited resource

Similarly, nothing sucks more than finally applying enough Chip & Dales to hit the cap only to draw a boosted version of the medal, so let us transfer over attack and defense boosts and cost decreases when using a medal with those stats to level up a different one

Skills being transferred from one medal to another with no preset skill should have a 100% success rate. Also, any maxed out skill should have a 100% success rate to overwrite so that you don’t lose those precious attack boosts with GA reducers or Lux boosts

Trait Medals should just be eliminated like... god. What a waste. If you have to keep them, make them Moogle Shop exclusive or something but they were really the start of KHUx’s unplayability for me

Boost the power of the Nova Attack. Why does it do so little? It should be on par with a medal

Just... Just bring back guaranteed mercy pulls, please. If I’m pulling on a Rage Form banner, I want Rage Form. Not “any of the following 20 medals, all of which have the same draw chance and Rage Form is in the list, I guess.” If you’re handing out Trait Medals with every draw, at least give me the medal they can be used on!

The new Draw Point deal is, really, a decent start to salvaging medals and I like it a lot. I’ve never gotten a bad deal from it (bless my boosted KH3 Nami <3). But as you’ll see below, there’s ways to make racking up those draw points less tedious

Finally, as it is now, managing medals takes way too long. Some UI and functionality tweaks could go a long way to cutting down the tedium of the management

Just let us roll multiple traits at once I don’t even know why I have to ask for this why won’t you just let us roll multiple traits at once???

Pulling up a medal’s summary should have a Sell button, probably right around where the “Share” and “Remove” buttons are, to eliminate constant jumping between menus to get rid of a single medal when you literally have it right there but they won’t let you sell it unless you find it in the separate sell menu

Medal Summaries should also have an icon, like in the Album, that indicates if you’ve ever acquired the Nova or Full Nova bonus with a medal from that line. I have so many really low-tier medals in my inventory because I don’t know if I have their Full Nova bonus unlocked yet and flipping between the inventory and the Album is a huge pain

And below are just a few scattered tweaks that I’d like to see and would make the medals more bearable but like... aren’t super necessary?

Who do I have to fight to reorganize the Album so that 7 Star medals are listed next to their lower level versions or at least add the option to have them listed in that order?

Magic Mirrors are way too rare just... if merging duplicate medals will only take the one up to a certain percentage until it gets stuck (like stuck at 117% out of 125%) instead of maxing it out (which it SHOULD do) then at least make Magic Mirrors more common

Can we uhh... stop giving out 2/3 types of Cids? Three levels of Cids is excessive and wouldn’t even be an issue if they’d put medal stacking in earlier. Now they’re just redundant. I get so many Cid 10s that anything lower is a waste of inventory space. And even if normal Cids are theoretically useful to new players, if we stop handing them out and only hand out Cid 10s then they can get into the events easier

At the very least, put them next to each other when sorting. Like... sort the utility medals by function and not “date we added them in.” Cid 10s Should be next to Cids and Cid 5s. Huey & Dewey & Louies should be listed with the other type-specific level medals. Same with Chip & Dales. Blue Fairies should be listed with the Star Increase medals like Yen Sid and the Fairies, followed by the Dual Meow Wows that boost things into Supernova or Supernova+. The Valentine’s Chocolates should be next to the Magic Mirrors... the subslot medals should be with the other utilities and not at the top of the fucking list like??? Their sorting system regarding the utility medals SUCKS

The good news though, is that now that the subslot medals are stackable and easier to obtain, there’s less having to rearrange subslots every time you sell an old medal. That’s nice. Small victories

Difficulty

I’m not convinced that anyone at BitGroove playtests this fucking game (and... reminder that KHUx is outsourced to BitGroove and isn’t a Square-Enix internally developed and managed game. Square just does writing, music, and PR mostly)

Proud Mode’s a damn disaster. I’m gonna fight whoever decided to make the objectives “complete all at once” with one objective always being a time limit, some so excessively strict that you can only do it with insanely specific medal combinations. Some of the restrictions are nigh-impossible with the game setup. I will also fight whoever keeps putting the restriction to Random-Target only while they simultaneously refuse to give us good Random-Target medals. There’s no good buffs. There’s no good attacks. If that’s the restriction, you’re just kinda fucked. Same with “10+ Hits Only” and similar. And nearly all of the time you’re locked into a horrible Keyblade for the stage (use Bad Guy Breaker, which has multipliers for all medal types, on a stage where every enemy reflects Power medals! And it’s Random-target only! And restricts you to 5 medals!)

The final section of The Keyblade War is almost completely unplayable. I get it, the Foretellers are supposed to be super-strong, but this is a major story event. It should be beatable for free-to-play users! Even the whales were struggling! Like, holy shit!

I get why it’s like this. They want to try and convince people to pay real money for good medals. Thing is, that kind of greed does the opposite. People are more willing to give money to products that they were already enjoying for free. When people feel like they’re forced to pay, like say, to beat a story event, they’re going to be more likely to hold onto that money because they’ll feel like you don’t deserve it

Again, let’s compare to Pokémon Masters. When people complained that the EX Challenges (necessary to get gear to boost your stats) were too hard, DeNA went in and lowered the difficulty. Now the fanbase is happier and more people can enjoy the challenges, while also unlocking items that benefit higher-level play. People complained that the Mewtwo Legendary Event was too difficult at harder stages and too grindy to max Mewtwo out. Both of the legendary events since then have had lower difficulty and requirements, and they’ve announced that the Mewtwo event is already getting a rerun with similar tweaks. Now more people can enjoy a strong character that they can get completely for free!

DeNA really spoils us

But they’re also a study in how making the game more accessible both increases playerbase and player spending. Go on the Subreddit for a bit and see how many people said “I bought Gems for this Scout deal because I feel like DeNA’s doing a good job and I wanna show some support!”

So, really, KHUx needs to rework their difficulty

I think the biggest thing that needs reworking is the defense mechanic (if a medal’s strength is lower than an enemy’s defense, then it only does 1 damage). Even if it was changed so that your strength being lower than the enemy’s defense only halves the damage you deal, that’s still a vast improvement

Proud Mode needs to be refocused so that Keyblades and Medals allowed are beneficial to the challenge. That increases strategy based around what a player has instead of requiring them to have very specific medals, possibly even with specific traits

Just... get rid of the “complete all at once” mechanic in Proud. I’d rather run the level three times doing a different objective each time than run it 20 times because I keep somehow missing one (usually the time limit)

Enemies absorbing certain types of attacks or reflecting certain types of attacks is fine so long as we’re warned beforehand. In the mission select screen, just put in a section like “Enemies may have the following: etc.” with the icons that indicate the effect in it

Given the amount of gems needed to upgrade Keyblades, they should be much more common to get for free. Monthly Gem Missions are actually way too hard so lower the difficulty and increase the gem rewards

Relatedly, let’s lower the grinding needed in Union Cross, thanks. I really loved being able to knock out all rewards in 1-2 bonus time sessions. Now? Even if I was there for every bonus time I still wouldn’t be able to clear all the rewards. That’s... absurd. This is a mobile game, not a full-time job. Like, they increased the grinding when they added in the speed-up function for Union Cross, but they increased the needed grinding way too much

I do appreciate they they’re adding things like gems and subslot medals as rewards for Union Cross, though, but it’s pointless if no one can actually get a decent amount of them

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

Anyway, that’s just my list of tweaks that KHUx could do to make itself better. I originally wasn’t going to post this since it really feels like KHUx is on life support, but now that Dark Road is being added as part of the package I feel like its lifespan got extended enough that it’s worth saying this stuff, even if I highly doubt anyone at BitGroove’s gonna see or care. And that’s sad, because I really want this game to be good. I want it to be fun again. We all know we’re just here for the story, and I think once they recognize that this game is just a vehicle to tell that story, then quality might improve.

DeNA knows their fanbase is just here for more interactions with old, beloved characters so they focus on that. Some get whole story events to themselves, everyone you recruit gets a spotlight episode, the story is literally just an excuse to get characters from all across the franchise interacting with each other with the occasional OC to facilitate things

I feel like the KHUx devs over at BitGroove just... don’t actually understand the appeal of the game they’re working on, and it’s a real shame

Let’s hope Dark Road doesn’t end up the same (Though given that BitGroove’s only two games are KHUx and Final Fantasy All the Bravest I uh... I’m not getting my expectations up because they clearly don’t learn)

(Also, bring the seasonal events back every year? Why wasn’t there a rerun of the Halloween quest this year? Please stop locking medals and accessories behind the VIP “for paying players only” missions that’s so fucking rude and coercive. Give the Sewer Squad names so that I know who’s talking in any given event! And please just give me a rerun of the Chirithy accessories please I want head Chirithy so bad)

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Don’t Go

Keanu Reeves x Reader. (Requested) A/n- this was sort of difficult to write, considering that suicide that even now,\ is an extremely sensitive topic, but I hope it’s been done justice and that no one has been offended or otherwise. Warning- Direct mentions of suicide and attempted suicide, depressed reader. 

“You could have it all, my empire of dirt,” - Nine inch Nails. 

Y/n sat on the balcony of her hotel room, leaning on the railing, looking down at the busy New York streets below. It all seemed so alive, a stark contrast to the way she had been feeling of late. The familiar feeling of hopeless despair welled up in her chest again,creating a tightness like none other. Gasping for breath, holding back burning tears, Y/n was left light headed with the realization of just how much she had spiraled. 

Just a couple months ago, she had travelled to New York, all bright eyed and busy tailed, on her way to start filming for a role that was supposed to be her big break. She was cast as the lead of a independent film, a drama alongside a Hollywood legend, Keanu Reeves. It was levels above one off characters in small televisions series, from being waitress #5 in a romantic comedy and an extra that no one would notice. The role was supposed to be Y/n’s way out of her vicious cycle of self pity and wallowing in what could be. The chance for her dreams to become her reality. Her opportunity to prove everyone wrong, prove that she could do this, that her dream meant something, that she hadn’t dropped out of college for nothing. This role had meant everything to her. But now it was gone.

Y/n had gotten the call just over a week ago, from the director, telling her that there was problem with funding, they were cancelling production and the movie was no more. The news had knocked the air right out of her, left her dropping down on to the nearest surface, offering a chocked goodbye as the line disconnected. Just like that her dreams were ruined and suddenly everyone who told her that she would never make it as an actress was right. The industry was cut throat, ever changing and unstable. Faces were forgotten, jobs went as fast as they came and not everyone was cut out for it. What made her think that she was? 

After that night, Y/n had slowly slipped into a state of disconnection that had only worsened her hurt. She stayed in the hotel that she could barely afford, probably racking up a debt that would send her scouting for any job that would pay at the very least, minimum wage, stopped taking her medication, she had ignored every text and phone call and had disappeared from social media. Y/n had ghosted life, taken a temporary check out. Until tonight, when she planned make her absence more....permeant.

Leaning over to the coffee table, Y/n grabbed up her phone, turning it on for the first time this week, opening up the messaging app. After selecting a few contacts, not a lot a couple close friends; her best friend who she had met in high school, a cousin back home who she was particularly close to and the man who had proven to be a great addition to her life, even if she had only known him for a few months, they had grown so close that it felt wrong to not offer him one final good bye, especially since he had spent the better part of the week trying to reach her; Keanu. Y/n’s fingers hovered over the screen, and then she typed.

Hey, I know its been a while since we’ve last spoken and I’m so sorry that I’ve been difficult to reach. Things have been hard, but I’ve finally realized what I have to do. What I need to do. I love you, and I’m so grateful for everything you’ve given me. You’ve been such a great friend, a diamond in the rough and I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. But I’m starting to think this far is far enough. I can’t go any further, I won’t.

As Y/n continued to type, her breath caught in a sob as her eyes blurred with tears. She was really going to do this. She didn’t want to, but at this point, a definite end seemed like to only remedy to the breath stealing pain in her center. 

I guess, in the end, all I really want is for you to know how much you’ve meant to me. How much you’ve helped. Thank you for loving me and making me wish I could love myself. Goodbye.

After a moment of hesitation, Y/n hit send. “This is it,” she sighed as quiet tears slipped down her cheeks. Standing and slipping out of her shoes, Y/n noticed for the for the first time how cold the night air felt against the exposed parts of her skin. For some reason, one she couldn’t quite understand, she straightened her dress, she had worn her favorite one tonight. A pale blue shift dress with happy little flowers about the garment. It had been a gift from her parents a while ago, from when they weren’t disappointed in her. 

As Y/n ran a final had through her hair, her phone rang on the glass table, the screen lighting up with her cousin’s name. Instead of answering, Y/n let it ring, until it went to voicemail. As quickly as it stopped, it started up again, it’s angry little noise filling the silence. It should have made her hopeful, encourage her to change her mind, but something inside Y/n told her that she was long past saving. And there was only one thing left to do when you couldn’t be saved. 

The wind dried whatever tears had escaped and carefully, Y/n threw one leg over the railing of the balcony, feeling the cool brass under her fingers. When she finally got the other leg over, she sat there for a while, looking down at the street, marveling at the bustling city that seemed brighter than it did during the day. No one could see her, and knew that she was invisible to the eyes below. No one would know what she was about to do until she finally did it. 

Her breathing slowed and Y/n was minutes away from final rest, peace and a chance to be free from the constant disappointment and pain. She was ready, she felt, so, so ready. In fact, she didn’t even hear the person stepping onto the balcony behind her, until he spoke up. “Wait. Please just wait.”

Keanu was at his apartment in Brooklyn when a text came in. He would never really consider himself as the kind of person who jumped up to check their phone, but something about they way it vibrated on the table with subtle urgency made him snatch it up faster than he ever had. It was a text from Y/n. He had been trying to reach her since he had gotten the news that they had cancelled production for a movie they were set to film together, though all his attempts had been to no avail. A glimmer of hope washed over him, however it didn’t last for long. 

His eyes quickly scanned the screen. Then, when he read it a second time, it was a little slower, to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Y/n hadn’t out rightly said it in her message, but she didn’t need to. This wasn’t just some text, it wasn’t an ‘I’m leaving New York’ goodbye, it was a final goodbye. 

Almost immediately, Keanu was running out of his apartment, hustling to get into his coat and onto his bike. He rode faster than he usually did, weaving through the traffic, probably breaking the speed limit and earning himself a ticket that would soon greet his mailbox. He didn’t care though. He had to get to her before it was too late.

At the hotel, Keanu hurried up to Y/n’s room after receiving her room number from the confused receptionist. As the elevator took its sweet time to transport him to the eighth floor, Keanu spent the precious moments praying that he wasn’t too late, “Don’t go....not yet,” he whispered under his breath, tapping his foot, holding back unshed tears. He couldn’t be late, Y/n didn’t deserve an end like this. She had to live, she was too young not to.

When Keanu was finally at the door, he didn’t bother with knocking, opting to try his luck at turning the knob. Surprisingly, it was unlocked and he headed straight inside. He soon found her, siting on the balcony railing, white knuckles clutching the gold painted metal, legs and bare feet dangling off the other side. Reaching out in a silent, unseen signal for her to stop, Keanu was careful not to touch her, he couldn’t afford to have Y/n jolting in surprise. His plea hurried out of his mouth, breathless and urgent, “Wait. Please just wait.”

Y/n slowly turned her red teary eyes to Keanu, “Why?” She asked and he could see her body trembling as she fought to contain a fit of sobs, “Its no use, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” Keanu asked, searching for the words that would help her see reason. Y/n just shrugged at his question and his heart leapt to his throat with her sudden yet subtle movement. “Y/n, please, just come down form there and we can talk about everything that’s bothering you. It doesn’t have to end this way.” It can’t.

“Yes, it does,” she argued defiantly, her voice breaking, “I hate the way my life is going. I hate that I’ve already fucked it up. I can’t stand the disappointments Keanu. I can’t stand myself. This is the only way.”

Inching closer to Y/n, Keanu tentatively reached out again, offering his hand, “No, its not. Y/n, you have your whole life ahead of you. God,” he sighed, “You’re only twenty one, do you really want to give up now? There’s so much left. And if you hate your life right now, it doesn’t mean you’ll hate it in a couple years from now or even next week. Things change, you just need to give them a chance. Please don’t do this,” he begged but Y/n didn’t budge. “Look,” Keanu took another step forward, hoping he could convince her with his next words, “Its probably not right to say that I understand what you’re feeling, so I won’t. All I’m asking is for you to give yourself a second chance. Do you remember what you said to me about second chances? That they’re gifts?” Keanu reminded her of something Y/n had said to him a couple months ago, “Give yourself a gift, right now.” 

Y/n seemed to weigh his words, her breathing quickened and then slowed before she put her hand in his, letting Keanu help her to floor then pull her into a tight hug. He kissed her hair sighing in relief. 

“What am I doing?” Y/n whispered, her face pressed against the leather of his jacket.

“Hurting,” Keanu held her tighter, “And that’s okay,” he kissed her forehead again reassuringly. Y/n broke into an episode of body racking sobs, soaking Keanu’s shirt with salty tears. He didn’t mind in the slightest though, he’d prefer tear stained t-shirts over having her jump any day.

“Do you want to talk?” Keanu asked sometime later. They were sitting on the sofa in the small living room. Y/n was wrapped in a thick blanket, cuddled to Keanu’s chest as he soothingly passed his hands over her hair.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. After a few seconds, she continued, “I just feel so lost and hopeless....and alone. And I didn’t want to feel like that anymore, I still don’t”

Keanu squeezed her shoulders comfortingly, resting his chin on her head, “You’re not alone Y/n, and as long as I’m here, you never will be. I wish you had called, I would have come in a heartbeat.”

She sniffled, “I know,” Y/n responded quietly, tearing up again, “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Just remember that whenever you feel like this, I’ll be right here, no matter what, because this world, my life, is so much better with you in it. And there’s a lot left for you to experience, don’t kill the parts of yourself that haven’t lived yet.”

“Thank you. For being here tonight,” Y/n said, her voice growing distant with tire.

“I’ll always be here. And thank you for not leaving.” Keanu planted one last kiss to Y/n’s hair before she was lulled to sleep by the steady sound of Keanu’s heartbeat, ready to give herself and her life, a second chance.

[ofsage]

is that [MATTHEW DADDARIO]? no, that’s just [SAGE SLATER]. [HE/HIM] is [TWENTY-EIGHT] years old and is a [PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR]. rumor has it they’ve been in town for [ALMOST HIS ENTIRE LIFE]. on a good day, they’re [ASTUTE & JOCUND]. but watch out! they can also be [RECKLESS & UNRULY]. [LOWLIFE BY NECK DEEP] plays in my head whenever i think of them. can’t wait to see them around springhill! [sam, 23, est, she/her]

hey there demons! it’s me...sam, and i was here briefly once but i decided it might be time to retire the muse i had brought in, so i’m back with a brand new muse that’s still a lot like the last one so please message me if you would like to plot!

i. stats

𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖: sage silvestre slater

𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕠𝕨𝕟: springhill, new jersey

𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕓𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙: june 1st, 1991

𝕫𝕠𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕔: gemini

𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: bisexual

𝕠𝕔𝕔𝕦𝕡𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: private investigator

𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪: dr. rosemary slater good ( mother ), professor of psychology at ucla & corwin slater ( father ), retired detective of the springhill police department.

𝕡𝕠𝕤. 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕤: astute, jocund, ebullient, well-meaning.

𝕟𝕖𝕘. 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕤: reckless, unruly, flippant, puerile.

ii. history

sage silvestre slater was born and raised in springhill, new jersey. at the time, his mother had a small practice in town while his father was an officer rising quickly through the ranks at the local police department.

he was a precocious kid, but more often than not his natural intelligence was overshadowed by an ostensible inability to sit still and constant antics. ( a diagnosis of adhd later on would explain some of this behavior. ) his teachers were nonplussed and unsure of what to do with him, but his father had a plan.

sage’s father saw potential in him and decided that he would train his son, honing his raw skills and molding him into the perfect detective. five years old when the lessons and lectures began, sage was too young to question his entire life being planned out for him, which often led to feelings of confusion and dejection when he was scolded for spending his time on the things he had a genuine interest in : games, movies, television, spending time with his friends. typical kid stuff that he wasn’t allowed to enjoying.

he was eleven years old when his parents officially divorced, an event he could have handled well by itself, but it led to his mother accepting a job offer all the way in california. he felt abandoned and his father floundered. he was never the parent who dealt with emotions. he eventually decided that his solution was to simply ignore it. he didn’t even try to talk to sage about the divorce or his mother leaving or any of his problems ever.

fishing trips ( something he’s always hated ), rides in the passenger seat of his cruiser ( dampened by lectures on police procedures that he had no interest in ), regular visits to the shooting range ( where it was quickly discovered that he’s a crack shot but he hated it after trying it once ). his father tried everything except talking and listening.

sage was so frustrated and angry that he started acting out. he was getting constant detentions at school and his perpetually middling grades plummeted. he argued with his father every day and broke curfew every night. he bought a motorcycle at sixteen and at seventeen, he dropped out of school and left town in the middle of the night.

it was the first time in his life that he had ever felt freedom. no teachers, no arguments, no controlling father breathing down his neck. he spent a couple months simply wandering around the country, picking up random odd jobs just for the fun of it ( and for the cash ). he had no permanent residence, no responsibilities and no attachments. it was practically paradise for him except for one thing : he can’t turn it off.

he was working as a cashier at some convenience store in the middle of nowhere when it was robbed by several figures in masks that completely covered their faces. sage solved the case with minutes to spare before the police arrived and he immediately told them who to go arrest. the story generated headlines that went viral, and for once in his life he hated the attention he was receiving...until the offers started pouring in.

he found out that people were willing to pay him to solve their mysteries : everything from people asking him to locate their missing keys to assisting police departments around the country with cases, often ones that were labeled unsolvable until he came along.

maybe he wasn’t a police officer at heart...but he was certainly a detective.

by the time he returned to his hometown, sage felt like he was gone for several lifetimes when it had only been a few months. he started renting a cheap apartment and avoided his dad for as long as possible. ( he found out through the local rumor mill that the man had finally retired while he was gone. ) a steady stream of cases kept him busy until one in particular left him stumped and he didn’t know where else to go for advice, except the person who taught him everything he knows about solving a puzzle.

his father disapproved of the business ( which didn’t surprise sage at all ), but would ultimately begin to offer advice whenever his son approached him with a difficult case. the two are currently working on improving their relationship, but often fall back on their old habit of petty squabbling.

PERSONALITY : the textbook definition of man - child. spends his free time playing video games, watching movies and eating snacks. has a joke or sarcastic remark prepared for every single occasion and he takes almost NOTHING seriously. constant obscure pop culture references mixed with eerily accurate statements about a complete stranger can make him difficult to hold a conversation with, but he’s also affable and witty. he’s an extremely loyal friend who’s always there when it counts, but not the best person to trust with the little things because he will fuck up somehow. does ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING purely for the fun of it. a literal genius who’s borderline ashamed of his intelligence.

iii. extras

sage is hyper - observant and highly skilled at deductive reasoning. he can look at something for all of five seconds and then hours later he’s describing it perfectly, right down to even the tiniest detail. he often learns things about people through his observations rather than through conversation, which he sometimes forgets and so he slips up and says weird things to people about themselves.

he loves movies and television. there’s always something on in the background when he’s working on a case, and most of the time it’s something obscure and / or 80s.

takes adderall for his adhd, but he’s really irresponsible about it so from day to day whether or not he’s on his medication is honestly a toss up.

HUGE COMMITMENTPHOBE. it’s likely part of his abandonment issues. he tries to avoid relationships altogether, but if he gets into one then he’s a total disaster and usually resorts to self - sabotaging when things are going well so that he isn’t abandoned again.

in high school he was captain of the baseball team and he played football and basketball. he had his letters and probably would’ve gotten noticed by scouts if he hadn’t dropped out and run away from home.

he has a sweet tooth, which is obvious due to his diet of nothing but candy, snacks, and junk food. he’s always hungry and usually always eating because he somehow always has food on him.

he was probably born late and has continued the trend by never ever being on time even once in his life.

wears mismatched converse high top sneakers : one green, one blue. a decision made because one day he just could not find either of the other shoe has turned into a fashion statement and is now one of his most distinctive quirks.

drives a norton motorcycle that he basically built from scratch himself and it’s his child. he loves it and he drives it everywhere to the point where’s racked up A LOT of unpaid parking tickets in town.

he’s well known for sticking his nose into the local police department’s cases. he might occasionally provide useful information, but for the most part he’s probably viewed as a nuisance who gets by on his father’s goodwill.

iv. wanted connections

lifelong best friend / watson to his sherlock *wc on the main

cousins ( maternal and paternal, don’t necessarily have to be from springhill so almost anything goes for this )

friends

clients AND people he’s investigated

enemies / people who find him annoying

high school friends

exes / flings / one night stands

( these are just a few base ideas, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here! )

[painted-cherries]

lingering

pairing: mark tuan x reader

warnings: mention of a gun and drugs, but no use and no death or shooting.

genre: fluff, slight angst but purely for the sake of plot I swear

words: 2.4k +

request: “ Can I have mark tuan soulmate au where he's a workaholic cop,and doesn't believe in soulmates, but then falls for her when he sees her? Please and thank you. Hope this makes sense :) “

a/n: yes! I am a fool for a good soulmate prompt, especially with Mark, he has the perfect image for this. I may or may not have projected my love for B99 in this fic as well... I am still accepting requests! You can drop one in my inbox if you click here.

March had passed, spitting out the few last cold fronts and mini snowfalls it could before April would take its place. Spring was on the verge of spilling to full bloom; what better time to find your soulmate than when the earth is renewing herself with luscious evergreen and flowers? The search for one;s soulmate is always random, but typically when someone would least expect it. There had been stories of people finding their respective partner in little moments like needing to borrow change in line at the cafe, or even sharing a seat on the bus. Every situation was very unique to each couple, and it was hard to anticipate when or where they’ll meet- sometimes in not very graceful situations. Spring time meant that there would be a plethora of new soulmates discovering each other; spring was a popular season, as well as that small period of time where fall slowly freezes into the coming winter. Many of these couples could be found around every corner and on every curb, hand-in-hand grateful to finally find comfort in someone’s arms. The soulmate system is a work of wonders for everyone right?

In the spring, Mark could be found working overtime at the station, catching up on potential hours he missed in the winter, when he had left to visit family for the holidays. He dreaded those visits, despite being able to see his family, the extended was always hounding him about not seeking out his soulmate more actively, He was well into his mid-twenties now, and was still without a girlfriend, let alone a wife. The truth was, Mark was already committed. He worked every day at the station, and not unwillingly. He practically begged other for the shifts that they didn’t want, and the chief himself had to limit him in his overtime that he worked so often. Mark Tuan was married to his job, and that’s how he preferred to live his life. His job gave him a type of natural high. Car chases, and drug busts exhilarated him. to no end. He was constantly working new cases and excelled so high that other detectives were practically begging him to assist them on their cases. 

He would go on and on for hours about a new murder or robbery that was filed to anyone who would listen- if he even had time in the first place- but love was not up for discussion. He had never trusted the link between soulmates- he thought it was madness that two people could be destined to be together for the rest of their lives without knowing or choosing to be with said person from the get go. He didn’t believe in predetermined destinies; he had grown up on his own accord with the ideology that we create our own fates, that we choose what we do and who we love- if we want to love at all.

The controversial animosity he felt for the soulmate idea was something he would never express to anyone- not his parents-who were happily put together by through their souls- or especially his friends, whom most of them had already fallen victim to the link. He had witnessed it everywhere and anywhere, yet he still refused to believe that there was another person out there who was destined to be his forever, before they were even old enough to know what love was. 

The day was young, and on this fine Monday, Mark Tuan was unsurprisingly working yet another shift at the Los Angeles Police Department. He walked with a spring in his step and clocked in. Mark’s daily routine never changed. Sometimes his hours shifted, but that was the most change he had seen since he became so invested in his work. Every day he would wake up and take a shower to wake himself up since he wasn’t naturally very upbeat in the morning. After that, he would eat exactly one bagel with as much cream cheese as he desired, and a banana as he walked out the door on his way to work. That was how he lived; he ate the same thing, combed his hair the same way, and worked the same shifts. It was monotonous, but Mark wouldn’t prefer it any other way. He didn’t need anything different because he obtained his thrill in car chases and drug busts, making arrests and receiving praise for his work.  

Today he was going to follow up on a lead that he had found the day before. Recently the department had finally discovered some lower level criminals that could bring them right to the door of their most wanted: a man who ran all of the drug deals throughout LA, a man that only referred to himself as The King... Not humble or subtle. His real name was Jackson Wang, and he wasn’t even on the down low. This man flaunted his success, but his ability to slip away from the LAPD is what kept him out of a cell to this day.

Mark sat at his desk skimming through files and prepping for the endeavor; he and his partner, Jinyoung, were planning to have an undercover meeting with one of The King’s best dealers, hoping that his arrest could help them locate where every single one of Wang’s hide outs were so that he could no longer slip through the department’s fingers, or more specifically Mark’s. He had been working the case tirelessly for the past three months, and he was tired of letting him get the best of him. Today was going to be a big day, he could feel it in his bones.

He was deep into the case file when Jinyoung walked up, and sat a chocolate muffin on his desk next the open manila folder. 

“Okay what time did you want to head out for the rendezvous spot?” 

Mark looked up from the paperwork and tore a piece of the muffin top off and popped it into his mouth.

“Well I was thinking,” he said with a mouth full of muffin. “that maybe we should go early and scout potential spots that he could escape in case he knows it’s a set up.”

“Okay, okay. Do you want me to see if Officer Kim and his partner could provide some back up?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “No ask Sarge if he’ll cover us. Those two aren’t bad cops but this bust could really lead to a big break in our careers.”

Jinyoung let out a sigh of relief and nodded his head in agreement. Yugyeom and Bam, as he liked to be called, always managed to get on Jinyoung’s nerves. They excelled at policing minor things like busting large college parties at night shift, or giving tickets to people who jay walk downtown. This was a large scale deal that Mark didn’t have time to play around with, and Sargent Lim Jaebum would be great for the job. He was refined, and took things seriously. He helped the captain keep things in order but was still a great friend to get a drink with. He was able to appropriately set a boundry between the workplace and friendship, and Mark knew that he was reliable no matter what the circumstances.

“Okay Tuan, you ready to head out?” Jinyoung called out. 

“Let’s go make an arrest fellas,” Mark replied as he excitedly stood from his chair, and walked out the door with his gun and badge in hand. 

The ride there consisted of a comfortable silence, and JB followed the two in his own car. After scouting for spots that the other two could maintain in case of a chase, Jinyoung dropped Mark off a block from the empty, blocked off parking garage that they were using as a meeting point, and drove off to remain inconspicuous. 

Mark took out his phone and started so scroll through meaningless social media so that he could remain undercover. He was always very hyper aware of his surroundings, as a detective should be. He thought about how warm the air was, just now realizing that the weather was finally changing. He thought about how it was practically yesterday when the weather would barely go above 50 degrees, and it hit him how quickly life was moving by. It literally hit him. Mark had the air knocked out of him when he felt himself collide with another person that was walking in the opposite direction. He landed hard on his back, and the person that caused it came tumbling down with him. 

“Oh shit I am so so sorry,” the person said in a hurry. He opened his eyes to see a young woman being to scramble off of him, and stand. She offered a hand to him, and the moment he took it, he felt a warm sensation spread throughout the cavity of his chest. He could barely get a good look at her before he realized that he was minutes from being late to meeting Wang’s dealer, and took off, muttering a ‘thanks’ under his breath. The girl stood there stunned, shocked by the sudden pull towards the strange man, and confused that he hadn’t stopped to acknowledge the obvious link between them. She wasn’t sure of the reason he ran off so quickly, but she decided that if that was her soulmate then she needed to know who he was, and proceeded to follow him.

Mark couldn’t stop seeing the small glimpses of her face after he ran off. He couldn’t stop thinking about the warmth that has taken over his better judgement, even as he comes face to face with what could be his big break in busting this underground drug ring. His mind was so preoccupied that he couldn’t help but flinch when the dealer slammed the grams of coke on the table between them. 

“Three grams of coke like discussed. Now where’s my payment, pretty boy?” the man spat at Mark.

“I-I have it right here just a moment,” and he pretended to fumble for his wallet. On cue he counted 5 seconds from when the man asked for money, and pulled out his PD badge exclaiming “LA PD”, just as Jinyoung busted into the building as they planned.

“Oh shit,” the guy grunted to himself, and not wanting to take an inventory loss, he grabbed the goods and started to run out what had appeared to be a blocked off exit, but opened for the man with ease.

“Jinyoung! Let JB know they’re taking the southwest exit now!” Mark said as he sprinted after the man. 

This dealer had obviously been trained to avoid being caught at all costs; he was using every resource available to keep Mark four steps behind him at all times. He dumped over crates, threw things carelessly behind him, and ran up the stairs from the lower levels nearly three steps at a time. Now more than ever, Mark cursed his short legs. Once the two reached ground level, the man narrowly slipped past Jinyoung after attempting to knock him to the ground. Mark ran past his partner and was so hyper focused on the perp in front of him, he didn’t notice the woman who was approaching him, oblivious to the chase happening before her. For the second time that day, Mark Tuan landed flat on the ground alongside a mystery woman with an unforgettable gaze.

Mark blinked and could hear the sarge yell from a distance, “LET’S GO TUAN, PICK IT UP.”

He began to recollect himself from the ground, this time he was up on his feet  before the girl in front of him. He offered his hand to her like she did the time before, almost like fate was trying to rewrite their meeting herself. The woman took his hand, and stood before him, brushing her disheveled hair from her face. This time around, Mark got a proper look at her face. He felt his pulse nearly pop from his veins, and his heart fell to his feet and remained there on the sidewalk, stunned. He knew in that moment that this was it, he was becoming what he would categorize as a victim to the soulmate link. But in this moment it didn’t feel like he was a victim. He felt light. There was sunshine pouring from his soul, shinning bright from the hollow behind his eyes and his rough touch on her small hand was weightless. 

‘Who are you?” was all he could ask.

She felt his aura engulf her. This time he lingered long enough for her to notice his more than handsome features. His jawline was strong, tense because she knew this wasn’t an experience he had ever anticipated, especially at this timing. His features were solid and defined, almost as if he had been a model in a past life. But that didn’t matter because he was meant to be hers in this lifetime, until the sun’s light burnt out and the tides stopped crashing for the moon. She placed a hand on his face and grazed it softly, dragging her thumb over his lip ever so slightly. The silence was broken when JB’s voice claiming that he and Jinyoung had caught the dealer, rang out loud over the earpiece he wore for undercover operations such as this one.

“My name is Mark. Ask for me at the LA PD,” he said to her quickly before taking off to help his friends with the arrest. 

As Mark ran, he couldn’t help but think about the woman now clearly identified as his soulmate. He was no longer worried about the countless days he would endure working to bring himself a peace of mind that he couldn’t obtain alone. He thought about the radiance in her eyes, and how even standing together made him feel something whole rather than apart and scattered. He felt her touch linger on his lip and cheek. He continued to feel her ghost touch as he handcuffed the man, and even after arriving back at the station, floating around on a high that wasn’t from booking a criminal for once. He no longer felt it lingering after he saw her waiting at the front door of the department, and walked straight up to her, pressing their lips together then and there before she could even utter a ‘hello’ to him. He pulled back and looked at her with a smile that he had never produced before.

“I’m y/n,” she said with a grin.

Mark no longer felt like a man with a blind fate, but a man who had a new blind faith in a love he didn’t know he was waiting for.

[spectraspecs-writes]

Taris - Chapter 6 (Carth)

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 5. Chapter 7.

A/N: The parenthetical in the title refers to specific character quests that are furthered in this chapter. Since I only have Carth right now, it’s just him. But later there may be two or three names in the title. Not sure yet.

Well, now I know what that smell was - fish. Every single food on this menu is either more credits than I have, or made of fish. Or kelp. Mostly fish. See, this is the problem with covering your entire planet with a city. Your only food source is the ocean. The only thing I can really pay for is deep-fried coin crabs, which looks about as appealing as it sounds. But, I mean, it’s food, and I’m hungry. I’d eat Republic rations if they were available, and Republic rations taste like chalk.

Don’t ask how I know what chalk tastes like. You don’t know what it’s like in the Outer Rim.

At least there’s a sauce.

“Hey, Carth?” I ask him, chewing on my crabs.

“Yes? What’s on your mind?”

“I'd like to know some more about you, if I can,” I say, “I mean, I get the feeling we’re going to be together for a while.” Wait, that’s not -- “Not ‘together’, together, just… you know what I mean, right? It would be useful to know a bit about you.”

“Me?” he asks back, like he didn’t expect the question. But then he shrugs. “Well, I've been a star-pilot for the Republic for years. I've seen more than my share of wars… I fought in the Mandalorian Wars before all this started.” Even I heard of the Mandalorian Wars, and I was pretty far from the battles. A good Mandalorian can be pretty bad-ass, and a great addition to any scouting team, especially if you need the muscle. But war is the thing they really live for. Honor. The chance to prove themselves in battle. While I was in the scouting game for the adventure, any Mandalorians I met were looking for a fight, some way to prove themselves. After the war, a lot of them wound up as mercenaries, which ended up being a fancy word for “terrorizing the locals” more often than not. Made scouting a lot less fun when I had to be on the lookout for Mandalorians scraping for a fight. I can only imagine how rough it would be to be fighting them in a war.

“But with all that, I've never experienced anything like the slaughter these Sith animals can unleash. Not even the Mandalorians were that senseless.” No, they weren’t. Slaughter was not the word to describe how they fought. “My home world was one of the first planets to fall to Malak's fleet. The Sith bombed it into submission, and there wasn't a damn thing our Republic forces could do to stop them!”

I swallow my crab. ‘You're talking like it's your fault. Like you failed somehow,” I say.

Carth stammers a little. “It shouldn't be my fault. I did everything I could… I followed my orders and did my duty. That shouldn't mean I failed them! I didn't!”

Them? Who’s them? “Them? Do you mean the people of your home world?”

He stammers again. “Yes. No… no, that's not what I mean. I mean… I'm sorry. I'm not making much sense, am I?”

“Not exactly.”

“You probably mean well with your questions. I'm just not accustomed to talking about my past very much. At all, actually,” he says, “I'm more used to taking action… keeping my mind focused on the business at hand. So let's just do that. If you have more questions, ask them later.”

“Hey, no problem, I get it,” I say, backing off a little. I didn’t think just asking him about himself would open up a whole can of worms like this.

A pair of arguing people walk past our table. I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but they’re pretty loud about it - “I can't believe we couldn't get arena tickets for this match! Now we'll have to watch the duel on the view screen,” the woman says.

Duel? Duels can be fun to watch. I have to admit, I’m intrigued. I pick up my crabs and the sauce and follow discreetly behind them. “Where are you going?” Carth asks.

“I think I’m going to go check out the duel, wanna come?”

At first he acts like he can’t see any point in going, and like he wants to argue, but then he shrugs and says “Okay,” and follows me.

“Who cares?” the other arguing person says, “It's Duncan and Gerlon fighting. It's not like we're going to miss anything good.”

“Shh! They're about to start, so quit complaining and just watch the view screen!” his - wife? girlfriend? sister? Whatever - says back. I lean in to one of the adjacent view screens.

The duel announcer speaks with what has to be the corniest voice I’ve ever heard - “Ladies and gentlemen, I draw your attention to the dueling ring. Here, two combatants will battle for your viewing and gambling enjoyment. Now, I hope all your bets are down, because we're ready to roll! In this corner, I give you... Gerlon Two-Fingers! And over here, looking to climb the ranks yet again is the ever persistent Deadeye Duncan!”

They both draw their blasters. Then… wait did that guy just drop his blaster? When he bends to pick it up, the other guy just shoots him. And he goes down.

What the hell kind of duel was that?

“And, to nobody's great surprise, Deadeye is down again. Don't worry, folks – he's just unconscious. As usual. Our medics will have him up and about in a bit. Well, that was quick, wasn't it? So I give you the winner... Gerlon Two-Fingers!”

That was the lamest duel ever. Shortly after it ends, the two duelists come back into this room. There are only five duelists. Well, no wonder that duel was so lame. These people have no chance to fight somebody new.

I know I’m not the killing sort, but dueling is different. It’s a great way to keep yourself sharp with your weapons, it’s a great way to blow off steam, plus when people bet on duels, you can usually end up getting a bit of the pot if you win. Now, I’m not one to brag, but I did my fair share of dueling in the Outer Rim, and I didn’t do so bad, if I do say so myself. I’ve got half a mind to talk to the person who organizes these duels.

No, I’ve got a full mind to do it.

Maybe that Hutt at the back of the room knows something about it. Hutts always seem to know the score when it comes to things like that. So I walk up to him. Before I have the chance to say anything, he says to me, “I'm sorry, human – the betting window's closed. No more fights right now. People are sick of seeing the same duelists all the time. It's bad for business. Unless...

“My name's Ajuur. I organize all the duels here. We need a new face in the dueling game, human. Maybe you want to step into the duel ring? It can be a highly profitable venture.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about - what do I have to do to get in the ring?” I ask him.

“I can arrange for you to fight in the duel ring. If you win, you get the standard contract: 10% of all wagers. And don't worry, nobody dies in the duel ring anymore. Death matches are illegal now. Most fighters in the duel ring use vibroblades or stun sticks because the ring's pretty small, but a few of the duelists use blasters. You can use whichever you prefer.”

Then Carth chimes in - “Vibroblades and blasters? And nobody ever dies? How come I get the feeling you're trying to take us for a ride?”

Ajuur comes right back with, “The duel ring has energy suppressor fields to make sure nobody dies. Weapons are limited so they hurt, but don't kill. And we've got a medic droid in case of serious injuries.” Then Ajuur looks back at me. “Are you interested?”

“Okay,” I say, “I’ll do it. That’s what I’m here for.”

Ajuur laughs with that big Hutt laugh. “Good — new blood for the ring!” He says, “But you need a nickname, like Ice or Deadeye or Twitch. Good nicknames make people bet more.”

“I never needed a nickname when I was dueling in the Outer Rim,” I say, because I didn’t. My party would just say, “Rena’s good for a duel, if you’re good for the credits,” and they’d pit me against whatever sad sack felt like losing that day. “In this corner, Sad Sack! In the other corner, Rena Visz!” You know, like that. “I mean, my name sounds pretty cool, I think. Rena Visz, it’s got a cool ring to it.”

“Bah!” Ajuur exclaims, “What do you know about nicknames? I’ve been giving names for twenty years!

“Hmm… what’s a good name for you?” Ajuur muses aloud to himself, “You’re an off-worlder. You’re new here, people won’t recognize you… I know! From now on in the duel ring you’ll be the Mysterious Stranger!”

“You really think that sounds cooler than Rena Visz?”

“The Mysterious Stranger is a perfect name for you. You’ve got no past, no history… it makes you seem like you seem like you have some big, dark secret. People like that. Makes them bet more.”

“This is probably for the best, anyway,” Carth says to me, “We could use the credits from these duels, but using your real name is too risky. The Sith might have come across a crew manifest back on the Endar Spire.”

“If you say so,” I say.

“You ready for a duel now?” Ajuur asks, “You want to step into the ring right away? I’ll set you up with Deadeye Duncan to start.” Isn’t that the guy who straight up dropped his gun in that last match? “I’ll tell you the rules if you’re ready.”

“Oh, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Yes!” He laughs again, “You fight and people bet and I make money! It’s all good.

“Only one rule - nobody dies. Your opponent goes down, you don’t finish them off. Death matches are illegal now. Are you ready to go into the ring now?”

“Let’s do it,” I say. Let’s go.

[beingallelite]

On January 1, 2019, the rumors and rumblings that had been seizing wrestling fandom for months were confirmed. The Young Bucks and Cody Rhodes had teamed with investor Tony Khan to found All Elite Wrestling. The new organization was designed to be the first major professional wrestling league to take on the monster monopoly that is WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment, Inc. Hype for the new organization soon took the wrestling world by storm and “AEW!” became a preferred chant for WWE fans disgruntled by lackluster matches.

But in a landscape that’s been dominated for decades by the leviathan nature of WWE, can All Elite Wrestling make any sort of impact on the sport? Where does the team behind the venture — President and CEO Tony Khan and EVPs Matt and Nick Jackson (aka the Young Bucks), Cody Rhodes, and Kenny Omega — see the core audience? And will AEW be able to truly allot wrestlers the creative freedom and professional support they’ve been craving?

So far, AEW has been testing the waters with a number of pay-per-view events like Double or Nothing, Fyter Fest, and Fight for the Fallen. While Double or Nothing sold out all of its approximately 11,000 tickets in about 30 minutes, the company decided to stream the latter two for free on B/R Live. It was a risky choice, but one AEW President and CEO Tony Khan stands by.

“In terms of putting shows out there for free, we took a bath financially on that and I took a big hit, and I was willing to do it as a company because I believed in our brand of wrestling,” Khan told Decider during a sit-down interview following All Elite Wrestling’s very first presentation at TCA press tour. Cody Rhodes, Chief Brand Officer Brandi Rhodes, and a number of in-ring talent were on hand that day to treat journalists to their first look at AEW’s upcoming weekly TNT show. Khan explained that his “dream” was to get AEW to the level “where WCW was.”

“There hasn’t been a legitimate other company [besides WWE] presenting weekly, high quality wrestling, and never before was HD available,” Khan said, explaining he had every confidence that once AEW’s weekly show premieres on TNT on October 2, “the revenue streams are going to be huge.”

Right now WWE produces two weekly live primetime shows, RAW and Smackdown, that combined amount to five hours of wrestling per week. That’s not counting other WWE weekly offerings such as NXT, 205 Live, off-screen house shows, or their near-monthly pay-per-view events. In contrast, AEW is only going to be crafting one two-hour-long show a week for TNT, and Khan said this is by design.

“We’re basing the company to be way more wrestler-friendly and in terms of the scheduling, because we’re not going to have a constant touring of five nights a week or anything like that, six nights a week never,” Khan said. “And really focusing on that and building the big events, big pay-per-views and streaming specials.”

In addition to allowing wrestlers time to physically rest up and mentally relax, The Young Bucks (aka Nick and Matt Jackson) argued that this far-less grueling schedule gives AEW a creative edge.

“Our characters won’t be over-saturated. That’s a problem for the current product for mainstream wrestling right now. You see wrestlers way too often, way too many times, and you become fatigued with that character and that superstar, and they lose that superstardom,” Nick Jackson said.

“[There’s] just time for things to breathe,” Matt Jackson said. “Everything is so overexposed right now.”

“It’s not about forcing everybody into the show to do one dumb segment just to show them in the show. We’re not going to drag people in and make them travel,” Khan said.

Matt Jackson concurred. “I don’t think everybody has to be on the show every week, necessarily. Like if they’re not needed like Tony said, maybe they stay home that week. Or we just give them a little bit in the back. Sometimes it’s just too much. But if we give them a little bit of flavor every week or every other week I think it would be fine. I really do.”

“We already have a lot of wrestlers in our contracts, so we don’t need to have them weekly. So some wrestlers might not even be on them every single week of the year,” Nick Jackson said. “So a lot of people are going to have great schedules that are way better than any wrestling company in the world.”

During AEW’s panel that day, Brandi Rhodes touted the diversity of talent on the roster, noting that more than half of the panelists they’d assembled that day were women. Khan wouldn’t confirm that AEW’s female roster would be given equal air-time to their male counterparts — “It depends on the week” — but he did say he thought AEW had some of the best female wrestlers in the world. In particular, he touted New Japan Pro-Wrestling alum Kenny Omega’s talent in scouting new joshi talent for AEW.

“It’s a different style,” Omega said, of joshi, a type of women’s wrestling from Japan. “It’s more artistic. It’s more beautiful, but yet it’s still strong, and yet it’s still very diverse.”

“I really think the joshi that Kenny scouted out could our be our generation’s luchadores because the luchadores and the lucha style became very prevalent through wrestling on TNT weekly in the 90s,” Khan said. “And now, almost twenty-five years later, the joshi could come in and just blow people away. I mean they have on our shows and it’s happening.”

Already AEW has begun pushing joshi talent like Aja Kong and Hikaru Shida. The two star were featured a six-woman tag team match on Double or Nothing. While Shida is officially signed to the AEW roster, Omega teased that there were still some stars he hadn’t introduced yet. “I haven’t shown all my cards yet,” he said with a smile.

“Person-by-person we’re developing a roster that can do everything the guys can do, and in a lot of cases, they’re doing a lot of things that the guys can’t do, or aren’t doing,” Omega said. “That’s why, for me, even though I’m proud of my own career and I’m still looking to do big things in my own career, but I’m most proud of that division and I’m most prideful.”

Khan, Omega, and the Young Bucks told Decider that they’re also committed to making sure that all the wrestlers have the opportunity to perform their best, while also being as safe as possible. When asked if wrestlers would be told that specific moves would be reserved for stars, Khan said that the bigger concern was safety.

“I feel very strongly that I want to take care of the talent and I want to protect these guys and girls and everybody,” Khan said.

“That being said, we’re not going to tell the talent like, ‘Don’t do this cool dive just because we don’t want you to do it.’ We’re going to say, ‘Hey, do the coolest things you can do.’ You’re very limited in other places,” Nick Jackson said. “All of our wrestlers are going to do a ton of stuff and we’re not going to limit them for what they can do and their abilities to do.”

Omega even added that they’ve been also studying their pay-per-views to make sure the talent isn’t leaning too hard on the same moves again and again. “For the first three shows or whatever, we had a couple of oversights where guys were doing too much of one thing or another or whatever, but now after the show we’ll always sit down and watch the show back and we’ll see, ‘Ah, I got to catch that next time. And oh, I got to catch that this time,'” Omega said. “Even last time, the Fight for the Fallen, we were more on top of our game.”

Fight for the Fallen was the last pay-per-view event AEW produced and it was one of the two events fans can still stream for free on B/R Live. So far, Khan couldn’t confirm if the weekly TNT shows would be available to stream for free, nor could he comment on the possibility that TNT’s parent company WarnerMedia might fold AEW content into its upcoming streaming service HBO Max. However, everyone could confirm that they see the Young Bucks’ YouTube channel, Being the Elite, as a key pillar of the company.

“What Nick does putting Being the Elite together every week and what Matt does both on and off the camera it’s so huge,” Khan said. “With Being the Elite you’ll see some of the most innovative stuff, but it’s going to be very different then the weekly TV show. But that’s by design and I want to keep it that way so you’ll have outlets to see different things.”

“I think the reason why Nick and I have had big successes is because we’re very self aware and we have that meta style. We’re in on the joke, right? If someone’s talking about us, we know they’re talking about it. We survey everything. We know everything. If people are talking, we’ve heard the talk. We’ve heard the chatter. And it’s better not to ignore the things. It’s better to at least address the elephant in the room and talk about it,” Matt Jackson said, adding he prefers to address fans via Being the Elite rather than Twitter.

“I think that’s the best way to comment on something like that is to do it through art like that, though,” he said. “Whereas so many people just take to a tweet. You could just look at a tweet and you could turn it and twist it ten different ways, right?”

The next two big dates for AEW will be August 31 and October 2. At the end of the month, the organization will put on All Out, its last pay-per-view event before they begin airing nationally.  “I know we are committed to doing pay-per-views, but not doing too many, doing the right amount,” Khan said. “Again we’re trying to follow up Double or Nothing with a great show on August 31st and live up to our pay-per-views being worth the money.” Then October 2, 2019 marks AEW’s big debut on TNT. Details about that inaugural show are still being hashed out, but it’s already been announced that the very first AEW Women’s Worlds Championship will be crowned then, confirming that AEW’s team are indeed betting big on their ladies. In fact, All Elite Wrestling is betting big all around and hoping that there’s space in the market for a weekly wrestling show that’s designed to be wrestler-friendly and wrestling fan-worthy.

[secret-rendezvous1d]

For When You’re Missing Me.

NO REQUEST.

This is just something that the smut side of my brain decided to spring upon me, late at night, having stumbled upon a particular video that sparked the idea. My first piece of smut writing for 2018 (I know it’s almost mid-2018 but... deal with it) and, hopefully, the first of many, many more to come this year. Some WIPs that I’ve been working on and have been sitting in my drafts for some time, some new stories that conjure up in my brain, some old requests that have been sitting in my inbox for months and months, and some stories I’ve been promising for a while but haven’t quite gotten around to writing yet.

I’m trying out something new with this piece. Smut is usually a very quick scene that I write. Limited detail. Rushed in some areas. When it comes to smut, the dialogue side of things is something that I’m not so good with, so I hope this suffices and doesn’t make the story too... cringe. 

WARNING: THIS IS A MATURE PIECE OF WRITING. PURE SMUT. ALL FILTH. SOME MATURE LANGUAGE USED AND MATURE SCENES. PLEASE READ IF YOU ARE COMFORTABLE WITH READING THAT KIND OF STORY. 

Feedback would be insanely appreciated.

IDEA BASED ON THIS VIDEO, HERE.

Word Count; 12k+ (what the hell?)

Enjoy. xx

Harry loved his job.

He loved that he was living the dream that he had as a child. The dream he told his mother about, the dream that his father was willing to help pursue, the dream that his grandparents became the biggest supporters of, the dream that his sister never made fun of him for and the dream that his friends always spoke so positively about. When teachers at school asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, what he wanted to do when he left school, he would tell them he wanted to be a singer. A performer who was known for the good times he threw in front of thousands of fans every night, in venues that his idols performed in and in venues that held hundreds of people, working his way to the top until he was performing in front of thousands and thousands of fans. Like a future Mick Jagger. The modern day Elvis Presley. The male version of Stevie Nicks. A singer who wanted to be known for singing his favourite songs, for supporting the biggest campaigns and participating in charity events that were broadcast all over the UK, singing his own songs, putting across strong messages and creating an atmosphere that people enjoyed being in, that they felt safe in; because he’d been to concerts as he grew up and he’d been to places that had live bands and live musicians showcasing their own work and he wanted to do that, too.

He loved that his dream career had become his full-time career. In the space of 5 years, he’d gone from someone who worked in a bakery on Saturday’s and studied during weekdays to someone who was receiving number one singles and awards that he had earned with his friends and cracking every continent on the planet. No longer having to sing on a karaoke machine in the living room and no longer driving his family insane from singing the same song on repeat, no longer having to participate in school talent shows with White Eskimo, no longer having to ask people for the truth about how good they thought he was because he had the stamp of approval from one of music’s highest moguls, no longer being asked to perform at family or friend’s or family friend’s weddings and social gatherings during a twenty-minute slot assigned for entertainment, and no longer needing to work hard to be seen by a talent scout that his school had brought by or to be noticed by someone who might offer him the chance of a lifetime because it as clear that he was already there. He was at the top of the chain of musicians, in a band that was widely spoken about and had become a household name, up at the top of the list with artists he had grown to love as a young boy, during family road trips and playing on the record player on a Sunday afternoon - and he fucking loved that.

He loved that his life now consisted of singing and meeting fans who had waited ages for One Direction to step foot on their land, who had brought tickets to see them and were the real reason they were at the top of the chain of musical artists, and he loved that he was given the opportunity to travel all over the world because every day of his life was a day where he was introduced to somewhere new, introduced to someone new, introduced to a world that he was still so fresh in. Exploring the countries he’d always wanted to go to but never had the privilege as a child, taking in the sights that he’s always wanted to see but could only see them in geography books and magazines, that he’d learnt about in primary school geography and begged his mother to take him to, and being able to turn into a tourist during his days off with a camera, brought with his own income, as he documented every place he stumbled upon to keep as memories for the future. To share with his future children and his future grandchildren so he could be the grandfather who told the most wicked stories, ever. From quaint towns in the mountains that were barely populated with 100 people to sweet villages that were brimming with life and sold homemade treats and trinkets and made him feel peaceful and relaxed. Because relaxing days off weren’t so common for him anymore and he liked to the cease every chance he got to be himself. Where he didn’t have to worry about his name being whispered around.

But the one thing he hated - and it was only the one thing - was sleeping in beds and staying in places that just weren’t home.

To anyone else, they would snicker at the double entendre.

And he would simply tut and shake his head and show his unamused distaste of being someone’s act of entertainment because of what modern day society had done to people’s pure minds.

Harry Styles, the teenage boy who had grown up with all the looks and the charm, who was the womaniser of the most prestigious and popular boyband, hated hooking up with the women? Who hated taking advantage of his status and turned down all the women who fell at his feet and purely stuck his nose up at the idea of waking up in unfamiliar territory. Beds that were far too unfamiliar for him, in a part of the city that he never planned on visiting, in rooms that he’d never seen in his life and knew, from the smell and the feel of the sheets and the atmosphere of the room, that was far, far away from his hotel rooms.

But to everyone else, from his family to the woman he adored and loved to share a bed and a home with to his close best friends and commonly aquatinted mutuals, it was far from something amusing and much rather something that was completely understandable. That was met with nods, a clap on the shoulder, and Everyone knew he liked his own comfort and you, for first hand experience, knew he liked to be in places he was entirely familiar with. YN knew he found it awkward to sleep in beds that he hadn’t slept before - he struggle the first night he slept in hers - and she knew that he liked his own personal space and a room that was all him - or had aspects that were him, whether it be a deodorant bottle on the vanity or a pair of shoes tucked into the corner or a bottle of fresh cologne beside her perfume bottle. That he felt more at home when he was staying in a place that was considered as home.

The hotel in Seattle couldn’t have been further from what felt like home.

The room was small, and he didn’t need to strain his neck to look around, and it was perfectly fitting for just one person - it was a single room, to be honest - with a couple of windows that were smeared with cleaning products, having been wiped after the last person who had stayed in the room, and a view of the hotel pool rather than overlooking the skyline. Which was a view he liked to see when he woke up in the mornings and when jetlag kept him awake at nights; seeing people sunbathing just never felt right to him. It wasn’t like any other hotel he’d slept in before... not that he was materialistic and thought he was worthy of 5 star rooms that looked like apartments and was double the size of his girlfriend’s flat. He didn’t mind not having luxurious rooms fit for royalty because he was happy to have a roof over his head and bed to sleep in for the night. The bed had a squeaky mattress that was too solid for him to lay comfortably upon, it didn’t have his body imprint left behind for him to find as he rolled around and shuffled under the duvet that covered him, and it didn’t have a pillow that completely swallowed the back of his head and gave him intense comfort. It didn’t have the intoxicating smell of his girlfriend lingering in the small space around it, the room didn’t hold them fruity smell of her body spray and it didn’t emit warmth like his bed did back home. The sheets were itchy and scratchy against his bare skin, far from the soft cotton that clung to his own king-sized mattress, and the duvet cover felt like paper... and, if he was being honest, he was sure the pillow had crumpled balls of paper pushed into the pillowcase to fill it out because the pillow didn’t quite succeed its purpose. His feet hung over the end and he knew he needed to curl up to ensure his toes didn’t get cold through the night, only putting pressure on the small of his back and creating kinks that would become trouble throughout his busy days, that might potentially cause him to be winded on stage during a performance. The floor looked like something from a motel in horror movies and it was scratchy beneath the surface of his feet and the light shades were old-fashioned and shaped like overturned tulips.

He missed London and he missed his own home and he missed his own comforting environment more than he had ever done before.

Harry dropped his wallet, his key-card and his phone, encased in a pink and rubbery case, upon the small table beside the en-suite bathroom door, sighing heavily as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Wiping away the sleep that made them feel like they had slits slashed across them with the burning blade of a knife and aiding to the ache that lingered because, even though he felt tired and knew he would probably drop off as soon as his head hit the pillow, his adrenaline-fueled mind just hadn’t quite caught up with the rest of him yet. His suede boots becoming heavy upon his feet, weighing down every step he took and causing him to scuff with each footstep that took his further into the room, as he toed them off and kicked them in the direction of his suitcase.

Outside his room, and scuffing down the corridor, he could hear the rowdy chatter and the heavy footsteps and the cackling laughter belonging Louis and Niall as they made their way to their rooms - Liam having travelled back with Sophia, as soon as the after-show excitement had come to its gradual end - discussing the events of the night, reminiscing on how the show had gone for them and expressing their feelings in how they couldn’t wait to explore the city of Seattle on their day off, the next day, before a late-night flight to Vancouver. Because, as sad as it was to think about, it was the last time they would be exploring the state as a group.

Oh, and that was another thing that Harry hated about his job.

Not necessarily hating it all of the time (because he felt so privileged by it) but hating it most of the time; exploring the cities that One Direction were lucky to perform in, taking in the sights around and learning never-before-heard facts that were fascinating to have stumbled upon, without the one person he wanted to have by his side, snapping candids and capturing the moment with a camera - his girlfriend. Always promising to take her anywhere she wanted to go, anywhere she wanted to explore, to be anywhere in the world that caught her eye, so she could say she’d been there. He felt like he was cheating her, as silly as he sounded, and he was making promises that he knew would take a long while before he fulfilled them.

He crouched down beside his suitcase, toes cracking underneath his weight, and pushed open the top after having left it foolishly unzipped when he was in a haste to leave the room after giving in to Niall’s consistent bangs against the door of his room when he was in charge of making sure they were all meeting in the lobby on time, letting it fall to the floor with a rattle. Zips clinking together. His neatly packed case making him rather frustrated, because he would only need to re-pack it neatly for the journey to the next city, as he rummaged around for a clean pair of boxers and a tee shirt to sleep in; usually, and rather frequently, he would sleep in the shirt that he had performed in (because YN wasn’t there to steal it from him), but, the grey material was soaked with sweat and clung to his back in an uncomfortable manner. Like a second skin that covered his torso. And as much as it hadn’t bothered him at the time, it was beginning to make him feel gross. The shower calling his name, his hair, that was almost instantly tied up in a bun before the journey back to the hotel, begging for a wash, and his back screaming to be rid the discomfort that he chose to ignore - he could freshen up tomorrow.

As he slung a clean shirt over his shoulder, he discovered an envelope. 

A white envelope, that was no bigger than the stretched out palm of his hand, tucked in between a suede boot and his gym trainers - the ones that he knew his girlfriend hated but wore them anyway because they were comfy and felt light on his feet as he jogged on a treadmill and threw a few punches at a personal trainer’s mitts - keeping it as flat as possible. Fresh boxers draped over his shoulder, brushing over his cheek, as his nimble fingers pulled the paper from the contents of his case. His name was written in a beautiful cursive script, right in the middle with a couple of ‘x’s underneath, accompanied by a lipstick kiss pressed to the corner in his favourite shade - a magenta that was bold and prominent and smeared a little at the corners.

His finger tore open the seal and he immediately hit another piece of paper that had been folded once and then once again and, knowing his girlfriend like the back of his hand, probably folded a final time to keep it as secure and as tight as she could have possibly made it. Something heavy settled in the corner and capturing his mind with curiosity; it was definitely from his girlfriend, definitely addressed to him, but what on earth could she be giving to him? 

A note...

... and an SD card belonging to one of her cameras.

Harry,


If you’re reading this then you’ve found my little surprise!

I didn’t tell you about what I had planned for you because I knew you’d go looking for it - I know you and you just can’t resist yourself - so I wanted you to find it by yourself, when you were least expecting it.

I don’t know how long it took for you to find it, I don’t know where you’re reading this, what country you’re in or what the time is, I don’t know when you’re reading this or under what circumstance, but what I do know is that you’re missing me more than you thought you would. Don’t lie to me. I’m missing you, too. So, I hope my little surprise will make you miss me a little less. Regardless of when you’re reading this, I’ll see you very, very soon and I’m really looking forward to that.

Make sure you lock whatever room door you’re behind, make sure you’re alone, make sure you’re not going to have any interruptions and make sure you have no plans that will coincide with what I have planned for the next fifteen to twenty minutes... maybe longer... depending on how things go. Enjoy yourself because this is something special, made by me, that is just for you. JUST FOR YOU. No one else. For your eyes only. (And I mean that, too).


I adore you. Always.


Love you. xxxx

He tipped it over and let the SD card drop into the middle of his palm. Fogged plastic landing upon his skin, blurring out the label of the black-coloured SD card, with a scribbled heart drawn in the middle with a red Sharpie. A red pen that was, without a doubt, from the collection in his office that he had hidden in his drawer that had the sole purpose on making changes in his schedules and for writing on demo CD’s to be sent off to different artists who had requested his help in songwriting or to be given to his management office across the pond so they could listen to what he’d been working on and to see and hear the well-thought out title of a single that he wanted in the charts. A pen collection that he would always find in her office but hadn’t ever gotten upset over because she always did something so wonderfully colourful with them.

And he wasted no time in rummaging around for his laptop. Whatever was on that SD card, whatever he was going to be met with upon the screen and whatever she was going to be surprising him with was something that got him excited. Tingling from the inside out. Whatever was happening on social media and whoever was tagging him in tweets and in Instagram posts, whatever was making his phone buzz and whoever was sending him messages and making his notifications go crazy, yeah... they can wait, he thought. Butterflies erupting in his gut, fluttering around and tickling all around, pulsing blood through his veins.

Perching down on the end of the neatly-made bed, which made him feel slightly guilty because he’d left the bed in a right mucky state when he’d woken up that morning, he used his teeth and one hand to open the card holder whilst balancing the base of his laptop upon his thighs, using his free hand to open the lid, to type in his password and to direct the mouse to the bottom left corner.

It was was so close to being known and he was expecting something that was from both sides of the spectrum.

On the one hand, he was expecting something sweet and adorable, something that screamed YN. Like a little montage of photos and videos that she’d taken and managed to find from their shared iCloud, putting them all together into a digital photo album, with a song that meant a lot to them (one that they sung together, that they played in the car, that they hummed during dinner, that they always turned up when it came on the radio), with a sappy message at the end that, annoyingly, made him cry. She said it would make him miss her a little less and that would definitely work... but it would also make him miss her a little more than he liked to admit to anyone. Even to her.

But, on the other hand, it could have been a cheeky montage of photos that she’d taken, without his knowledge, that ranged from nudes to lingerie shots to close-up selfies that looked incredibly realistic to her ‘Harry’s just fucked me really rough’ face. A face that had a mix of her mascara and her tears running down her cheeks, hair matted to her forehead with sweat and her lipstick smeared across her lips and the underside of her nose - his favourite look.

He squinted at the screen to see the title.

JUST WANT UR COCK BUT THIS WILL HAVE 2 DO

What will have to do? What was he about to see? To witness? 

What was this surprise?

He cautiously double-clicked on the small folder that appeared once he pushed the card into the slot at the side of his laptop, his eyes darting nervously from the bright screen to the door of his hotel room, silently praying that Paul, or anyone from the crew, didn’t walk in to tell him “light’s out, big guy. Busy day tomorrow”. A paused screen going straight to full-screen mode, showing the smiling face of his girlfriend, who was half-naked and had one of his button-up shirts covering her exposed breasts. Her nipples erect and almost tearng through the material.

“’ello, my sweet peach.”

He grinned widely, on instinct, because he’d really missed her voice. Hotel rooms sounded eery when she wasn’t there to fill the silence with her cackles and her garbage talk about why pigeons looked the way they did or how planes managed to stay in the air despite being made from metal - he hated those types of conversations but had really grown to miss them when they weren’t there to drive him insane.

“Wait, no. That sounded weird. Sweet peach. Let me start this again. Sorry.”

He chuckled lightly when the screen went black, cutting off from, what he imagined was, a mistake that she had left in for humours sake that was there just to make him laugh. The seconds still ticking away at the bottom of the screen and he chose to sit and patiently wait. Her face, no longer than a couple of seconds more, soon appearing back on his screen. Closer than it was beforehand, with the buttons of his shirt, that were done up to help keep her breasts covered, now unbuttoned and allowing the flaps to open with each movement she made.

“Hi, mister. Hey. Hello... ohhh, yeah, that felt so much better. Nice and simple.”

He snorted; he wanted to say he loved her little, out-of-the-blue nickname because ‘Peaches’ was a newfound pet name she was experimenting with, just a little personal something between the two of them before she took to using it in the world outside, but, if he had to be honest, he preferred her second attempt. It was sweet and natural and very YN. 

‘Mister’ was what she called him on a regular basis, had been since their first date, whether it be to sweet-talk him or when it casually slipped out during a conversation at breakfast or from beneath the shower, and it had slowly become on of his favourite nicknames for himself. A difference from the common H or Haz that his friends called him.

‘Missus’ slowly becoming part of his vocabulary just so he could match with her. So they could be that cheesy couple who had the cute nicknames and made their friends gag dramatically in their presence but fawn over them in the distance.

“I’m guessing that, since you’re watching this, you’re all alone and in an empty hotel room and feeling a little lonely and missing me, yeah? You found this in your luggage, realised you missed me, and just wanted to see what I had for you, is that right? I imagine you’re feeling a little horny, too? Since you saw the title. And you just want me there, sucking you off, making you cum, and making you feel good, right? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“A long while,” he mumbled to himself, gulping thickly as he pressed pause, and released a deep sigh. The door needed to be locked and he needed to be naked, if not completely than definitely, from the waist down. This wasn’t a case of slipping his hands into his pants and trying to be discrete about the whole thing; he was on his own, and he would be till morning, and he had no need to worry about being interrupted with someone who was eager to see him. With her looking like that, dressed in his clothes, with a sultry voice being used to talk to him, he had a feeling this wasn’t something that was quiet, meant to be soft and made just to make him cry. “A really long while.”

He stood up from the mattress, discarding his laptop to the side of him, as he unbuttoned his black jeans on the way to lock the door, grabbing a ‘do not disturb’ sign on his way passed the small table that he bumped into upon both of his arrivals into the room that day, sticking his head out of the door as he hung it on the handle. Grinning to himself because if anyone noticed, he would be ridiculed and teased. He wouldn’t mind what they thought though. He didn’t think any one else, from the crew to the boys to the strangers who walked passed in the night, had a loving partner as surprising and as thoughtful as his own and, deep down, he liked how jealous he would be making them.

He shimmied out of his jeans, letting them pool at his ankles as he stepped out of them and left them in the middle of the room, his sweat-soaked t-shirt soon joining the black denim. Hobbling around on one foot as he tugged off his socks and threw them over his shoulders, not particularly fussed about where they landed, darting to the window to pull the sheer curtains to a close. Almost succumbing the room to complete darkness if it wasn’t for the yellow glow that emitted from the lamp on the bedside table - he could deal with that. Tugging off his boxers and leaving them on the floor, closer to the bed than his other garments, he situated himself against the headboard because, over the many years of having to have solo orgasms when his cock wouldn’t soften and wanking until he could no longer wank, he’d found that was the most comfortable position to be in. 

Using his foot to reach for his laptop, pulling it close with the arch of his ankle and leaving it be on the empty side of the bed, stretching out his thumb to press the space-bar. Her voice, yet again, filling the quiet room.

“I thought I’d treat you to a little something special,” was the first thing she said when the video continued, “so consider this as my way of apologising for not being able to travel with you on the first few legs of your last tour with the boys. Should’ve tagged along, really. I bet you’re having a great time though. With all the lads, having lad fun and being all lad-y. Although you’ll probably tell me you aren’t because you miss me and want me with you because you always enjoy having me around. I think that might be something to do with me being your personal groupie though. Going to all the shows, squeezing in a shag in afterwards, but never saying goodbye to me because I’m your girlfriend and I’m always there in the mornings.”

He smiled a little, shyly amused, and dropped his chin to his chest; she found humour in reading about his X Factor days and how 16-year old Harry was a little bugger when it came to the ladies. Comparing him to the Harry she knew because she could see that näive teen streak, showing at times but remaining hidden, still inside him. He knew she had stumbled - well, she says stumbled but he knows there was more to it than her coming across it during her time in the toilet - upon an old story, about him and Zayn and a couple of girls who had followed them around on the duration of their very first tour. Finding it funny to use “Christabelle Riley” when she felt annoyed with him or when she wanted to be downright annoying to him or when she wanted to make him squirm because she was in one of her playful moods. The name being one that he wished she’d drop because it was something about his past he wished to forget all about - he was a serious artist. Wanted to be taken for more than just his ‘groupie’ past.

“Do you remember that gift you brought me a while back? For my birthday? The one that you had to hide away from the rest of the presents, in the corner of the garage, because our parents were there?”

Sybian - that’s what the website said it was called.

And how could he forget about it? It would be impossible to. He had never heard of one before, let alone seen one, so he almost spunked in his pants when he stumbled upon it. On the dark side of a website specifically for sex-toys, different bottles of lube and specially-made lingerie that weren’t just to look good on the body but were also made to help encourage the feeling of pleasure - pouches in the knickers, vibrating knickers, role-play outfits of all sorts and latex garments that accentuated every curve of it’s wearer. Having ordered it at a time when he couldn’t spunk in his pants; when he had a spare few minutes from doing a chunk of recording in the recording booth, when Jeff was out on a call from his father and his band were out getting a bite to eat, having promised to bring him a sandwich and a water from the shop on the corner.

“Well, I’ve only used it once, just to test it out, and I thought it would be a perfect piece of footage to give to you, whilst you’re away, so that you have a little piece of me as to not miss me so much. Something sexy so you don’t need to stare at photos or watch porn. I see your web history after you say you’re ‘going for a nap’, you dirty prick.”

He feels his cheeks heat up.

Even though she knew that he was a avid watcher of amateur porn videos and even though she knew he turned to Pornhub when he was having difficulties feeling satisfied, he still felt embarrassed when she called him out on it. Having been caught one afternoon, when she was supposed to be spending the whole day with his mother, with his hand around his cock and a body that was spread out on the bed with clothes all over the floor, as he watched an amateur teen having the time of her life with a vibrator as she spoke dirtily to the man to the side of the frame, she hadn’t let him live it down. She watched him, she watched the video, and she waited for him to finish before she made her presence known and his face was purely picture-perfect. His mouth in the shape of an O, his eyes wide and watering at the corners, his cheeks heated and flushed, his hair completely tousled after he’d tugged and pulled his strands and his thighs were still quaking. Picture. Bloody. Perfect.

“It makes a difference from all those other videos that I send to you, as well. The ten second Snapchat stories or the grainy iPhone camera videos that you get to see when you wake up. The is done on my proper camera. My blogging camera. Professional and all that. And, unless you lose this SD card, it’s just yours and no one elses. It won’t get leaked, it won’t get downloaded, and my modesty, and my dignity, will forever be in tact. My boobs are yours to see. Not the world. And, as much as I love the toys we have and the dildo’s you’ve brought me that are all shaped like you, this has to be one of my favourite things to play with. So, thank you for buying it for me. We can both have some fun with this.”

Riding a prick was something that he didn’t think about too often. Of course, he’d explored around as a teenager and he’d slipped a finger in and what have you, had the opportunity to find what really got him going, but having a cock sit heavy in a place that burned with the thickness of a finger was something that he wasn’t desperate to try. That wasn’t on the top of his fantasy list. It was something that he’d brought just for her to use when she was missing his body to straddle rather than penetrating his hole that was foreign in the act of anal and had only been visited once in the past... by her tongue and a thumb and forefinger.

The memory, on its own, was enough to make him shudder. A good shudder, of course. The kind that came from something that felt really good, really pleasurable and came from something that had good intentions behind it, and he knew that experimenting around would bring him immense pleasure.

“Tonight, from me to you, I’ll be riding this.”

He felt his cock twitch when she jazz-handed as a way to show it off, involuntarily and almost reflexive against his stomach, much like it did when she happened to be wearing something that got his motor running or did something that he found rather enticing - like it did when she hunched over in front of him and allowed him the chancing moment to peek down her top and to stare at her boobs cupped so delicately by a pale-yellow bra or when she purposefully bent over in front of him and gave her bum a wiggle because she knew he couldn’t let the moment go unseen. He let out a choked sob of relief when he gave his base a soft squeeze, dropping his head back against the headboard as he slowly pulled his fist all the way to the top of his shaft, his foreskin tickling his length underneath his heavy and rather sweaty palm.

His other hand slipped down his body, his fingers toying with the pebbled nipple to the right of his chest before he ghosted the tips down his abdomen and down passed his belly button, itching at the underside of his belly and feeling his stomach contract as he brushed over a slightly ticklish portion of skin, until he was happy on where they had settled. Course hair, thick and dark and looking a little unruly (“a trunk as thick as yours always needs a little grass around the base” is what she’d always told him when he questioned whether to shave or trim) at the touch of his fingertips, enough to grab in small clumps and long enough to not lose a grip of. A strangled moan bouncing around the insides of his mouth before it escaped the small gap made when he took his bottom lip between his teeth.

Her virtual presence, so bright and infectious upon his laptop screen, was there for his disposal and for his needs and, due to how delectable she looked, it was easy for him to let his imagination run wild inside his mind. Plain and simple for him to imagine that he was balls-deep inside of her. Sinking into the most desirable, cavernous-like space so deep and filling her up so nicely and deliciously, with her slick walls clenching and squeezing around him in the way that he just loves, in a way that could never be forgotten because it felt so pleasurable. So insanely good. How her legs would almost always spasm and how her thighs would quake and how she would shiver and pierce his back with her fingernails as he pounds into her and fucks her through her euphoric high.

His hips jut upwards impulsively and he tears his hands away from his pubis, thick with hair, and tucks them between his open thighs, his little finger resting perfectly against the crease where his thigh met the curve beneath of his pubic bone, and he begins to fondle his balls gently. Rolling them between his fingers, cupping them and almost making juggling motions (juggling - which he had become a professional at doing) and making the muscles of his stomach tighten even more.

“So good, so good... fuck.”

In his mind, she’s saying his name. Well, not exactly saying it... more like mewling it out from quivering lips. Eyes wide and staring into his, legs tight around his waist as he deeply grinds his hips into her, her orgasm being so visible through her coloured orbs as she cries and squeaks out her appreciation, as her fingers cling to his neck. The heels of her hands resting at the top of his neck, her nails scratching at his scalp as her fingers push through his hair, tugging harshly on the sweaty roots that were beginning to feel dirty and gross under her touch and the sensation, itself, was enough to make him loose his smooth rhythm...

On the screen and filtering out from the speakers, filling up the empty spaces in the air that was full of his deep panting and soft moans, she was deep in chatter - so far from where his imagination had taken him. He’s not sure what she’s talking about, really. She’s pointing at things, reaching out of the frame from things, grinning at the lens and toying with the hem of the shirt covering her body.

“... so, I guess I should explain to you how this works? It might make it a little easier for you. I’ll show you. It’s a fascinating piece of equipment,” she heightens herself on her knees and crawls forward a few centimetres, her hands coming up from her side to adjust the button-up that was flowing away from her torso. She stretches over and picks up, what seemed to be, a control box. A heavy block, that looked rather mechanical, that was coloured silver and black. “This is its remote control and it controls everything to do with this toy. The rotations. The vibrations. The speed of both. Oh, god, and I have full control so I’m like a dominant and a submissive all rolled into one,” she giggles, and it makes his heart skip a beat, with a contagious little squeak that had him letting out a chuckle - well, a loose breath of warm air pushing out from between his lips. “I can be tough on myself. Give myself a real go at it. Make myself cry and all that. Or I can be really soft and gentle. Calm it all down if it gets too much. I’m a softie so...”

She grins so widely before her shoulders slump and she drops from her height, her bum brushing over the carpet of the bedroom. And, as she stares at the camera with her hand wrapped around the fake, peach cock, he loses it. Completely and utterly loses it and gives in to the coil in his gut that was screaming out in mercy. Her eyes holding so much behind them as he squeezes his own shut, cumming hard as he continued to jerk his shaft, imagining her clamping down on him tightly as he filled her full of his thick juice. He wheezes, like he was winded and struggling to catch his breath, slumping down upon the mattress and ruffling the pillow that was trapped between his back and the base-board of the bed.

“... it’s extraordinary, Harry. I’ve never seen anything, or ridden anything, like it. This attachment is a wonder. My clit sits and rubs against here,” - she points to a small lump made in the rubber, scratching her nail over the grooves made for added pleasure - “you see the little bump? Well, I say little but it’s not. It’s like a lump. Yeah, uhm, that’s where my clit sits. The curve, it’s perfect, and the wiggly lines - I think they’re the grooves? Yeah, they make it so much better. The rest slips deep inside me,” - she strokes it like she would his cock and he glances down at his slippery, mushroom-shaped head, oozing cum and turning a deep shade of pink - “like your cock would do, but it doesn’t go as deep as you go, and it doesn’t fill me up as half as how you fill me up, but it feels so good. And it rotates and vibrates, too. Unfortunately, your cock doesn’t do that. It’d be cool, and a little weird, if it did. But I love it, nonetheless. It’s my favourite cock to ride. And these plastic ones will have to do until you get back to me.”

He wished he had something other than his hand.

He says he’s not adventurous in exploring new positions, new techniques upon one side of the relationship, but he’s all for experimenting with toys. He nicked one of her vibrators one night, for goodness sake! 

She had a couple of rounded-tip vibrators in her bedside drawer, she had a wand that was his preferred vibrator to use on her (and himself), and she had a small dildo collection (that he had stumbled upon when he was being a domestic house-boyfriend and cleaned the cupboards of their walk-in wardrobe) that, after much interrogation on his part, she said she used rather frequently. A shy promise to use one when he was home and when she was next in that mood. 

He had nothing but two hands and a vivid imagination.

“So, this is the rotation,” she twists the knob, with the “ROTATION” labelled beneath it, and there’s an abrupt sound that begins to crackle through his laptop speakers. His eyes completely focused on how fast it was spinning on the spot. “This is the fastest speed but that is way too fast for me. Maybe we’ll go that fast when I’m feeling a bit more courageous and feel more confident. Maybe when you’re here so I can focus on you and how you like to get off to me getting myself off. Because watching your hand around your cock, jerking yourself and cumming from your own touch, yeah, that really gets me going. Could watch you do that all day, like watching my favourite movie,” and she sports the naughtiest of smirks as she looks at the camera, sending him a cheeky wink, toying with the knob as she adjusts the speed to show him, “and, if it gets too crazy, I can just turn it down. And, if that gets too less and I need a little more, I can turn it back up and let it go crazy. Reaching inside and touching every inch of me. Not as good as you though, of course,” she slows down the rotations and adds a little force to the small switch at the bottom of the left-hand side, stopping the mechanical motion completely, “I’ll probably just go to the halfway mark. It was on a real slow rotation last time I used it and it took me forever to get to an orgasm. You’d have laughed. Called it a useless contraption and gave it a kick for not doing it’s job.”

Useless, of course, for not doing its assigned job in making her squirm and scream.

That was the reason he brought it, of course: to help fulfil the need and the desire for nothing but pure satisfaction when he wasn’t there to help her. It was junk if it didn’t serve it’s purpose.

“... the vibration though? Harry, it’s fucking crazy. You wouldn’t believe how good it feels. I had it on quite a quick vibration last time and, oh my god, you’d have to feel it yourself to understand how amazing it feels. It’s insane,” she smiles sweetly and it drives him nuts as he slumped down against the pillow, his non-existent double-chin resting against his chest as he switched his focus between his erect cock and his girlfriend, crawling backwards and setting herself up behind the mount, “are you ready? Make sure you’re on your own, yeah? Make sure there are no interruptions? Stick a sock or a tie on the door or something. Let people know you’re occupied and have no time to spare for anyone because this is for your eyes only, mister,” she points accusingly at the camera lens, at him, and he giggles tiredly, “do you understand me? If I find out that one of the boys has caught a look at me, you’re on the sofa for the next year. No sex, now blowies, no handjobs, or anything. You’ll have to resort to your hand.”

He knew she was serious because it had happened before. Not to the same extent as what she was implying, here, but... rather similarly.

They were fresh into a relationship, give or take eight months, when it happened.

Despite dropping the ‘L’ bomb just 5 months before, and with their first time being sexually intimate with one another just a short 2 months before, they were still exploring the excitement they could have with one another and they were still finding their own ways in dealing with the distance when he was country hopping for tours and promotional purposes and they were still trying to come to terms with being away from one another for so long. It’s when nudes were first introduced. When the very first video, filmed by her and sent to him, first happened. Of course, he had initiated it - she’d woken up, one morning, to a rather glorious photo that he had taken from the bathroom of whatever five star hotel room he was staying in, with everything on show and the cheekiest of grins on his face, without an inch of embarrassment written on his face. He seemed so happy. Pride was probably the correct way to describe it.  

Given the time difference between London and the States, she’d sent him one back... breasts on show, laced knickers at the bottom of the frame, with her bottom lip between her teeth and a seductive wink that closed her left eye... and it couldn’t have been sent a worser time.

Because she was inundated with messages that she had a feeling weren’t sent from her boyfriend. In the 244 days of being with him, she had never once seen his use slang or the common ‘text language’ that the kids were using, back in the day. Lots of ‘u’s rather than ‘you’s, lots of ‘2’s rather than ‘to’s, plenty of ‘z’s being added to the end of plural nouns rather than the usual ‘s’s and there were no ‘xx’s at the end of the texts and Harry never skipped out on sending a couple of little kisses at the end of each message he sent... never.

She couldn’t talk to the four boys for weeks. Could barely look them in the eyes because she felt so humiliated.

“... oh! Do I look good for you, baby? I hope so. I feel good with myself. Been wearing this for the majority of the evening. I bet you look pretty amazing, too. All spread out on the bed, completely naked and just the way I like you, with a little semi going on because we haven’t reached the real action yet but you know what’s about to come and you’ve gotten all excited.” 

She giggles sweetly and peels away the lapel of the white, intricately scattered with black polka-dots, button-up that draped down her torso, and she lets it fall off of her shoulder to show one of her breasts as she grabs at the soft flesh. Pinching her nipple and biting her lip as it sparked a reaction throughout her body, a cheeky wink sent to the camera before she rolled her shoulder swiftly, bringing the material back to cover her chest.

“Although, that one flash of my tit probably had you sporting a hard-on like a teenage boy seeing fanny for the first time.” 

It falls silent between both ends and all he can hear is his wheezing breaths as his chest rose and fell with each deep breath her took.

“Have you just come off stage? All high on adrenaline and you’re not sure what to do with yourself, yeah? You know I live for post-concert you. Sweaty, smelling a little dirty, t-shirt clinging to you, patches under your arms and your back completely soaked. You know how that gets me riled up, Peaches. When you smell like you’re already fucked out, like you’ve already been through a few rounds with me, when you’re all hot and bothered and eager to get that cock inside me.”

There was one night that came to mind; June 3, Edinburgh, 2014.

As soon as he stepped off stage, backstage at Murrayfield Stadium, she’d been glued to his side from the moment she gave him a kiss to congratulate him on such a remarkable show. Despite the horrendous smell that wafted from under his arms and despite the sticky sensation that he could feel all over his skin, she stayed tucked under his bicep as he thanked everyone for being so helpful, grabbed himself a chilled bottle of water and let the boys know he would be missing out on their scheduled boy’s night out because he knew he wouldn’t last long in a dingy bar, drinking his weight in tequila shots and cheap lagers, and being stared at, regardless of how many times he escaped eyelines. With a promise to head out with them when they arrived in London and getting everyone together to celebrate their return, he sunk his mouth into YN’s hair and they were out of the stadium before anyone could tell them to stop with their “disgusting PDA”.

She’d practically wanked him off in the car and ruined the orgasm that was building up in his belly, she’d left hickies all over his neck in the lift going up to their room and she’d tore his shirt at the collar in a haste to take it off, she’d hid her hand in the waistband of his jeans and squeezed his bum as they scuffed down the corridor and, as soon as the door to their hotel room had closed with a click against the lock, she’d whipped his trousers down and, without any hesitation, welcomed his semi-hard cock into the warmth of her mouth before they had the chance to make it out of the entryway.

To this day, he still wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline that made his stamina break the bar on how long he could last or whether it was the excitement of sinking nice and fulfillingly into his girlfriend multiple times throughout the night... he was thankful for whatever it was though.

“Do you want to fuck me? I hope this video, me riding this, makes you want to fuck me even more. I hope it gets you excited to come home, to sink deep into me, to make me feel good. To make me feel even better than this ever could,” she scoffs to herself playfully and bangs a hand down on the arched mount, “let’s make a deal. I’ll cum for you if you cum for me.”

His eyes widened nervously as he took a glance down at his, what was once tight and almost in a death-like vice, fist. His fingers loosening from the grip he had upon his erect cock, letting it spring back against his slick stomach, splattering a few droplets of spunk that caught at his slit, the space of stretched skin between his thumb and his forefinger sporting a glow of his ejaculate; sticky against his flesh, dribbling down to his wrist and speckled upon the fuzz of his upper thigh because he was always messy when he came and, really, he wasn’t afraid to admit that.

“Bugger,” he mumbled lowly, coughing into his clean fist to clear his dry throat, “could’ve bloody said before I spunked, baby.”

“And you have to tell me how good it felt afterwards. I don’t care if I’m sleeping or if the time difference is wacko or if I’m busy and can’t get back to you right away. If I’m with your family or my family or out with friends. I want a simple text to tell me how could you feel after blowing a load over this video. To know that it’s done its purpose. Because this whole thing is to make you feel so good. Is that an okay deal? I think that’s a pretty good deal.”

He heard her cough and he watched the screen intensely as she taps her fingers against the black leather.

“Wrap your hand around your cock for me. And stroke it. Stroke it like I would for you. Up and down. A little squeezing. You know how it goes, don’t you? Keep doing that until you cum for me. Can you do that? You better be able to do that for me. I know you can and you don’t want to disappoint me now, do you?”

He shook his head, and he chuckled lightly because she couldn’t see him, and happily obliged. Tightening his hold upon his cock, for the second time, and wiping his sensitive head to evenly spread out the remnants of his orgasm. Wincing through clenched teeth as spasms of electricity shot through him, pulsing his veins more rapidly and throbbing in his hold. His mouth watering as he stared between her thighs.

“You know what my pussy looks like. But, here’s a little glance before it’s ruined by this contraption,” she says as she leans back on the mount, hands bracing her weight on the edge of the arch to stable herself as she pushes up, into an amateur crab position, to let the camera focus plainly upon the soft folds between her thighs, “remember how this looks, yeah? If you have to rewind it, rewind it. If you have to take a screenshot, take a screenshot. A photo with your phone or whatever. Because I’ll show you again, at the end, to show off how crazy this makes me feel,” she leans her weight on one hand and uses her forefinger and middle finger to spread her slick folds, letting him catch a couple of seconds of her, yet to be ruined, pussy before she settles back on her knees and lets the rounded tip brush over her clit, visibly shivering at the stretch of pleasure coursing her veins.

“I’m not going to lie. I’m a little nervous. You’re actually out with Nick right now, you know? Remember when you came home at the end of June? A couple of weeks ago? Spent a couple of days with me before you took off to America? Nick took you out for some beers and you’ve been out for a few hours now so you could be home at any minute.” - And he remembered this so vividly. How she’d given him a clean button-up and told him to not where black jeans because it was muggy out and he would have gotten hot, how she’d snuck into the shower with him when he was getting ready to leave and how she’d helped him shave because, the last time he shaved, he had missed a patch by his sideburn and looked utterly ridiculous. She’d made him a cheese and pickle sandwich with a cup of tea so he had his stomach lined before his night out and she’d ate her own dinner whilst he ate. He’d kissed her goodbye when Nick had arrived in the taxi and he’d begged her to give him a reason to stay at home because, deep down, he didn’t really want to spend the night with his friends and get pissed to the point where he would be vomiting all night and would end up with a rotten hangover by the time the morning came. He remembered how they’d teased him because he’d been glued to his phone the entire night, how he’d been texting his girlfriend because he missed her and didn’t feel right without her there, telling her how he should’ve been feasting on peanuts and drinking lagers but had chosen to stick to water and cokes, only for her to encourage him to have a good night because she could look after him in the morning, and he’d told her how it didn’t take long for Nick to start sweet-talking the bartender because he thought he was cute. How he’d walked through the door and tripped over his own feet and fallen flat on his face because YN was in stitches when she told him over breakfast the following morning, how he’d been sick in the bathtub because, apparently, the toilet was too far from the door, and how he’d been bedridden until his flight in the late hours of the evening. - “It’s exhilarating to know you could catch me but I really don’t want you to catch me. Because then this whole thing, this video and this surprise, would be ruined. It’ll be your loss. Your fault.”

He smirked and rolled his eyes - he still would’ve asked for the video to be in his possession and he knew she wouldn’t have been able to turn him down.

“Are you hard for me yet? I want you so badly, you know? Every time I want something to penetrate me, to slip between my walls, to fill me nice and deep, I’ll always think about how badly I want you. How badly I want you to penetrate me. How badly I want your cock to slip between my walls and how I want you to fill me up, nice and deep, and hitting all those delicious spots inside me. The ones that have me squirming underneath you.”

He could feel his second orgasm beginning to tip over the brink and his cock was involuntarily twitching, again, in his hand. His slit pulsating and his tip tingling and his veins making his shaft feel hot as he flicked his wrist in achingly slow jerks. He’d already had one and he was as sensitive as his teeth were to ice-cream - it was painful but it was pain that was delicious and enticing.

“If your mind wanders away from wanting to fuck me, that’s okay. You think about whatever you need to think about. If you want to think about these lips,” she points at her pink lips and using her finger to drag her bottom lip down, “wrapped around your cock, shining with your pre-cum and bright pink against your tip, then go ahead. If you want to think about this tongue,” she sticks out her tongue, flat and thick, and wags it from side to side, “licking you up and down and coating your balls with spit, then go ahead. You’ll be able to feel the real thing soon. Wrapping around the head of your cock. Sucking gently, at first, and getting harder and harder and harder. Until you can barely see straight,” she tickles her fingertip down her neck, down between her collarbones, down the middle of her torso and taps the hooded bundle of nerves at the top of her pubic bone,  “and, if you need to think about this pussy, riding you, going in and out of me,” she lets the dildo sink into her, reaching up inside her and settled so perfectly that it felt like it was breaking all kinds of walls to feel so good, “like this, then think about that. Think about my tight little pussy wrapped around you because I know how much you like to think about that. Know how much you love the feeling of me being completely wrapped around you.”

“... oh, what about my bum? Know you’ve slipped in once before. Could think about that, you know? Sliding in and out of there,” - he visibly shuddered. Because, little did she know, he thought about their first anal session whenever he needed to get off and was struggling to do so. Remembering how her bum was propped up by her pillow, how his hands cupped her ample cheeks with his fingers, how his cock laid perfectly where the crevice of her bum met the small of her back and how it felt so delightful as the newfound feeling, that was foreign to the both of them, took over. - “I know you liked how that felt, Peaches. Feels good, doesn’t it? When someone loves on your bum? When someone takes you to cloud nine by inflicting pleasure around the backside? Must give your bum some more loving when you get back home.”

He was too shy to ask her about exploring the area that was his backside, up front, so he would definitely hold her to that. Would even quote her, if he had to.

“Are you ready to start? I’m ready to start,” she stretches over and grabs the square remote control box, holding it tightly in her hand as the back rested against the bare flesh of her thigh, “there is one thing I forgot to tell you though. Might make you get there a little faster. This little contraption makes me squirt, you know? Feels so good that I just can’t help it. Thinking about you, it drives me insane, and I wish you could see this in person, Harry.”

His head snapped up just as she shrugged off his button-up; squirting? That was somewhat brand-new for the both of them. Sure, they’d spoken about it and he’d always wanted to try and make her have a wet orgasm that soaked his thighs and had her completely convulsing in his arms, and he’d googled all about it and whether it was normal and easy for all women to do, but they’d never reached the perfect moment to give it a try.

“Have to be hard now, right? Been naked for a little over five minutes. Had my tits on show for that long. You’ve probably already had one orgasm, hm? Watching me fuck this, imagining it being your cock, yeah?”

He so focused on her hips that her voice was only background noise for him. His complete upper jaw gnawing down on his bottom lip as he worked on stroking his cock hard and fast, quick and tight, fingers beginning to shake as his eyes squeezed shut. Her whines and her whimpers encouraging his orgasm and enticing it to spurt up his chest, beckoning it to escape and mix with his first.

He tried to hold himself off for a little while longer; it’s his second orgasm of the night and he wanted to milk the pleasure for as long as he possibly could. Wanted to feel every inch of it coursing his body. But, with each pump of his hand going up and down his girth and with each swipe of his thumb over the, deep shade of raspberry, head of his cock, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold himself and to contain his hips from bucking up into his fist. Watching his girlfriend squirming and whining and whimpering as she ground her hips down and round on the peach-coloured dildo, that was lucky enough to be feeding her the pleasure he should have been giving to her, and whilst picturing her pretty lips, now swollen and bright red from how she’d continuously bitten and nibbled to contain her squeals, wrapped around him, it was overbearing for him. Overwhelming, if you will, as his moans caught in his throat and his grunts rumbled through his chest.

He groaned with deep guttural passion, almost like a yelp that bounced off the walls and echoed around the quiet room, his mouth dropping open as he rolled his head back against the ball of his neck. The tips of his hair tickling at the space between his shoulder-blades, the top of his head bumping against the soft headboard behind him as he tugged his cock, flicking his finger beneath the ridge at the underside of his tip, gargling out a string of profanities as he shot an almost empty load across his thigh.

Her voice so broken as she spoke through her orgasm; “fuck, m’squirtin’, Harry.”

He watched as she bobbed up and down, grasping her left breast and squeezing the soft flesh as splashes of her release escape from between her thighs, coating the base of the dildo mount with droplets he could only wish he was there to taste. To lick clean. The desire assisting his orgasm as more cream coated the fuzz of his inner thigh.

“Remember when you fucked my throat?” She says with a crack in her words, “had me gagging around you because you were so thick and heavy? Touching the back of my throat and you had my eyes watering? S’exactly what my eyes are doing right now, Harry. You remember how that looked? Remember how you had my eyes leaking? How I was close to crying with so much pleasure? I bet you do. I bet you think about that so much. Pretty sure my throat needs that again soon. I’ve been practicing.”

Deepthroating her was a spur of the moment thing.

What started off as a sweet blowjob after a warm shower, with gentle kisses being pressed against his thighs and her tongue being so soft with his flaccid cock and her hands cupping his backside so delicately, had soon turned into something much more. When he was erect and hard in the palm of her hand. When he was leaking pre-cum and she was slicking up the dry skin with the natural lube he excreted. Her nails digging into the fleshy mounds of his bum (which, he was sure would draw blood to the surface - not that anyone would see) and her teeth dragged up and down the thin flesh and bumped over the tingling veins pulsing with blood, that covered his throbbing muscle, with each rough thrust he gave her mouth. Gurgling around him as she tried to whine and whimper and moan out to tell him how she wanted him to keep going, gagging and dribbling down her chin and onto her coffee-coloured thighs from how he broke the boundaries of her throat, his fingers raking through her hair as he pulled fistfuls to guide her up and down his cock.

He remembered how she couldn’t speak for days beyond that. How she smacked his arm, kicked him up the bum and wanted to yell at him, but couldn’t. How she had meetings with important sponsors and how she had trouble with speaking in a hushed tone because people were struggling to hear her. She blamed it on the start of a cold and, despite how terrible she was as a liar, was rather pleased when they brought it.

“I wish you were here, baby. Fuck,” she whimpers, the heels of her hands resting on the front arch of the large toy, his hips stopping the motion of going up and down as she rotated them around in circles. Fighting the rotation of the toy as it sunk deep into her. “Do you wish you were here, too? Watching me squirt like this? Helping me through my orgasms? I wish you were here to fuck me, Harry. Wish you were here to finish me off with your cock.”

And, oh gosh, how he wished he was there, too.

It didn’t feel right to be so far away from her, wanking over her and thinking of her as he jerked himself off in each country they visited,  and he wasn’t so sure he could last another month and a little bit longer without asking her to fly out to whatever city in America One Direction were next going to be in.

Her job was flexible and she could take her work anywhere in the world; that was one of the many perks to being a lifestyle, freelance blogger. A laptop in her bag, passport in her hand and a camera around her neck with cities all around that were full of picture-perfect moments that were momentarily opportune. So, surely, she wouldn’t mind swapping the four walls of her office back home to working from all over the world, right?

“Wish I was there, too,” he muttered, giving his cock one final tug before he let it spring back against his stomach, “so bad.”

He took his come down as a brief break. Letting his fingers relax as they had started to feel stiff, letting his cock feel a little cooler and to make sure he wasn’t overworking himself as he let it droop to one side, resting against the curve of his upper thigh and in a pool of his own spunk.

“Fuck, m’squirtin’, Harry. For you. You know what I’m thinking about?”

He smiled tiredly and watched her as she sunk down, knees pushing into the carpet as she let her orgasm loose, little splashes being heard as he watched her, cheek resting against his shoulder.

“I’m thinking about you pounding into me, baby. Spanking me and telling me how good I am and telling me how amazing I feel. Clenching around your cock, squeezing you and edging you closer, and squirting for you as you fuck me deep. All over your stomach. All over you. Feels good when I make myself squirt, you know? Want to show you so badly.”

He whimpered and it was such a cartoon whimper that rolled from his tongue that, usually wouldn’t have embarrassed him because it wasn’t forced and came from an act that enticed it from deep within him, made his cheeks heat up.

He had this habit, that he wasn’t sure how it started, of banging his hands down on the mattress when he pushed up after being stretched out down the spread of the bed. Whether it was after a full nights sleep and it was time to get up or after a nap that he’d taken with YN after a busy morning or after they’d spent a few hours on the bed being amorous with their sexual activities. Because it annoyed her and he loved to annoy her and it had simply become a habit he would do when he was on his own. Using his trembling arms to push himself up from the bed and onto his knees. The pillow that he hadn’t slept on, which still held the strong aroma of hotel washing detergent and was still crisp white and had a fresh pillowcase and was untouched and wrinkle-free, was grasped tightly in his hand. His knuckles turning white after he lunged forward and grabbed it, leaving an empty space at the headboard. His erect and tingling and leaking cock swinging as he moved, his laptop pushed to the side in a haste to find a new position, his bare heels pushed into the pillowy flesh of his bum cheeks. Green eyes staying focused on the screen as he watched her grind against the arched base of the sex-toy between her thighs. Her back arching, her nipples pebbling as a hand disappeared behind her frame, her other clinging to front to keep her as stable as she could possibly make herself.

She’d spoken about pillow humping before... and it definitely wasn’t something that would slip his mind with ease. Whether it was during their late night chats when the time ticked passed midnight and the both of them were struggling to sleep, whether it was when they were discussing ways they managed to get themselves off when they were alone, or whether it was overhead when she was talking to a female friend during a stay-at-home brunch in the kitchen. It wasn’t a foreign topic of conversation and he was all for trying new things - he’d gone as far as having his girlfriend give him a rimjob, for goodness sake, so there were no boundaries he was terrified of crossing.

He folded it over as quick as he could - well, actually, it was more wrapped around his cock than it was folded before his quivering frame - and, despite being untouched, it was warm and, if he could let his hazy imagination wander a little further than her lips wrapped around him, he could really imagine her warm cunt clenching around him. All slick and warm and deep, homing him perfectly and stretching to accommodate the thick girth he packed between his thighs, and being enough to milk his balls dry. He didn’t need a hand fondling his balls or a finger pushed into his behind. Needing the sounds and the touch and the smell to drive him over the edge. He grabbed either side of the pillow, keeping it in a tight fold, as he gave his all into thrusting between the gap, feeling his bum clench with each forward thrust, his body almost toppling to the mattress with each retracted thrust, and his eyes were watering. His bottom lip situated between his teeth, chewing hard on the flesh and nearing the point of drawing blood, making it red raw and dribbling down his chin.

Because, oh god, did it feel good.

It was better than his hand; far much better. It had the creases, it had the depth that her warm cunt had to offer every single time, it had the metaphorical entrance that he found pleasure sinking into and it had the warmth that he could imagine wasn’t just a folded pillow. Where he could imagine it was really her. It was an action that he didn’t mind drooling over and that he didn’t mind making a mess of, an action that he definitely wouldn’t rule out in the future, and an action that he would have to tell her all about, just to tell her she was right. That it felt brilliant. That it sent him spiralling towards a place where he felt he was flying. Not necessarily cloud nine but... something even better than that.

His knees were starting to ache from holding up his weight, his stomach was clenching and coiling with white-hot pleasure as he kept pushing his hips losing all rhythm but driving deeper into the groove that the pillow offered him, his head swimming, his knuckles turning white and his fingers feeling like they were stiff when he tried to give them a wiggle, and he was beginning to feel like jelly because he was on the brink of a third orgasm - the most orgasms he’d ever given himself in one night - all whilst his girlfriend was edging towards her second.

In hindsight, he felt guilty for what he was doing. This wasn’t his property, it wasn’t his room, it wasn’t his bed to get messy and the pillow wasn’t his - it all belonged to a hotel, a room, that many people would use after he signed himself out and handed over his key. It was a pillow that people would use, that they would rest their heads upon, without knowing the high levels of deep lust it had helped him feel. And, despite not wanting it to end, he threw it to the floor. The least he could do was salvage what was left of the inanimate piece of furniture.

His stomach ached as he jerked himself through his third orgasm, the third of god knows how many, just as his girlfriend announced she was cumming hard. His hand feeling clammy around his length as he tugged up and down, up and down, up and down, adding in a spark of pleasure as he squeezed his girth and stroked the sensitive, mushroom-shaped head with the pad of his thumb. Her squeals sending him over the edge as he spurted thick, white strings of release up his chest, painting his sticky and shimmering, with sweat, skin. Smearing his release over each and every section of exposed skin he could.

He fell back against the bed, his head missing his pillow by mere centimetres as he choked and swallowed saliva down his dry throat, releasing his cock and spreading out, like a starfish against a rock, upon the mattress. Feet hanging off the end of the bed as his fingers twitched. YN’s cries of relief echoing around the room as they filtered from the speakers at either side of his laptop and he wasn’t so sure he could last another go. Three orgasms was good enough for him.

“... this is driving my clit crazy, Harry. And, as much as I love it when you use your fingers and rub them against me, when you flick me with your tongue or suck on me, this feels so much better,” she hums, his eyes straining as he peered over his shoulder to watch her, “it’s up there on things that drive me crazy. Love your fingers though. Make me feel so good in so many ways. They’re so soft and gentle, delicate and feathery, touching me so lightly and it’s like they know exactly what to do. They know where to go. They know just how to make me feel nice.”

This go around, as he watched her unravel on the sybian, he skipped out on a potential fourth. He could have gone for it but a staggered orgasm, that he would class at number four, could come in the morning when he could keep his eyes open. When he wasn’t feeling sore. When his cock had had a break and had regained all feeling from tip to base. He had new material to watch, to think about and to help his imagination delve further into the darker depths of his mind now that he had stumbled upon what she had so sweetly given to him... that he was thankful she had given to him... that he would, as corny as it sounded, keep safe and look after and would only use it when he was in dire need of a little help. When amateur porn just wasn’t satisfying enough.

“... I think s’all I can take. 3 orgasms is good enough for you, right? I feel great. I’m going to go and take a warm bath, relax a little and wait for you to come home so you don’t smell sex on me,” she giggles, dismounting the sex-toy and walking over towards the camera on shaking legs. He could see her glistening thighs struggling to close from how long she’d been in her position, the upper muscles trembling under her skin, “drunk you always seems to know when I’ve been naughty with myself and I can’t be giving myself away. If you’re curious as to where I’m putting this, it’s back in the box and in the wardrobe under your shirts. Means I can grab one when I chose to have some fun,” she grins into the lens as she picks the camera up with her hands, holding it at arm’s length as she twirls on her bare feet and collapses - well, more like lets her legs give out from underneath her weight - upon their bed. Head nudging between the two plump pillows as she hid her face into his. A tired smile on her face. “That’s all I can do. My legs ache and I’ve still got to put it all away and get myself freshened up. I’ll see you really soon, mister. Really soon. Enjoy the rest of the tour. It’s your last one with the boys, for a long time, so make the most of it. I’ll see you at home in a short few weeks. 6 nights at London’s O2? That’s going to be so cool! I love you huge amounts.”

Sure, he missed home... but he was missing it a little less now.

[gray-autumn-sky]

Sleepless in Seattle, Chapter 18

December 24 1993- New York, New York:

Roland shivers as he steps up to one of the big sets of binoculars and he frowns--even on the tips of his toes, he can’t see.

It’s been a long day and he’s tired, cold and hungry. The snacks he filled his backpack with at the airport commissary are are gone and he now regrets letting Gus talk him out of the food plate on the plane because even bad food is better than no food--and though there are places to eat all around him, he’s too afraid to actually venture down from the Empire State Building Observation Deck.

So, he sits down at one of the little tables and pulls his blanket out of his backpack, wrapping it around his legs--and then, looking around, he pulls Rocinante, a stuffed horse he’s had for as long as he can remember, out from the back pack and holds him close.

When he was little, his mom used to read him classic stories, and one of their favorites was Don Quixote. She used to buy special version of old stories that were illustrated with pretty watercolor illustrations, and he always laughed at the one of Don Quixote trying to fight the windmill. His mom always laughed at that one, too.

He smiles a little as he thinks of her, remembering how she used to hold him on her lap and cuddle him when he was cold from playing in the snow. They’d made hot cocoa with marshmallows and cinnamon, and she’d wrap them up in a thick blanket by the fire--and when his eyes close, he can almost feel it.

Every now and then, the elevator door dings and a few people get off, wandering to the edge of the deck and looking through the binocular. He watches them closely as they point out tall skyscrapers and other attractions--then, just as quickly as they come, they go, often making a comment about how cold it is.

He hugs the blanket and and Rocinante closer every time someone makes that comment, and when he starts to get darker, he tries not to be scared.

Eventually, the elevator doors stop opening and closing and the people stop coming, and suddenly he feels so alone. Glancing at his wrist watch, he notices that its five o’clock and for the first time that day, he wonders what he’s going to do if Regina and Henry don’t come--and then, his stomach sinks as he considers what will happen if his dad doesn’t come.

That morning, when he’d snuck out his window to go to the airport, he’d considered leaving a note, but Gus told him not do that that. That he’d handle things--and he’d been too nervous and excited to argue.

Gus told him that his dad would probably reach out to his friends and their parents, and that’s when Gus would explain what they’d planned; he’d even looked at the times flights were leaving Seattle for New York to plan out when he’d reveal where Roland had gone off to. Then, Gus’s parents would probably take him to the airport and help him get a plane ticket for New York--and by the time his dad got to New York, it’d be time to meet Regina and Henry.

What he’d never considered was what would happen if his dad didn’t reach out to Gus or his parents, and he hadn’t considered the possibility that there weren’t other spots on the flights going from Seattle to New York.

Tears brim in his eyes as he wonders what he’d do if no one comes for him.

Reaching into his pocket, he wonders if he could get a hotel room for fifty-four dollars and he wonders how he’d even go about finding a hotel room.

His saw starts to tremble as tears roll down his cheeks and he hugs Rocinante closer.

“Mom,” he whispers, pressing his eyes closed and foring tears to fall from the sides of his eyes. “Please send Daddy to me. Please let this work. Please.”

And almost as soon as he whispers it, the elevator doors ding--and as his eyes open, he sees his dad rushing frantically from the elevator. He grins as he stands up, letting his blanket fall onto the chair as he tucks Rocinante under his arm and bats his hands over his cheeks.

“Roland?” Robin yells out. “Roland, are you--”

“Dad!”

Robin turns toward the sound of his voice, his shoes slipping slightly on the snowy ground. “Roland!” Roland runs toward him as he drops down to his knees and opens his arm and he smiles when he dad’s arms wrap around him, holding him tight as he cups the back of his head and kisses his cheek. “Oh my god, Roland. I am so glad that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine--”

“Roland,” he says, pushing him back slightly, but still holding onto both of his arms. “You scared me to death! Why did you runaway? Why did you--”

“You wouldn’t read the letter, dad,” Roland says, his tears now flowing freely. “And I just want you to be happy.”

Robin blinks. “Roland, I am happy. You make me happy.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Roland,” he says, drawing a deep breath and trying to keep his voice even and calm, not wanting to yell. “Roland, it’s never going to be the same. We can’t replace your mom.”

“I’m not trying to replace her. I just… I just want….I…”

The words get stuck in his throat as he struggles against his tears--and when the words don’t come, his dad pulls him back to him, hugging him just as tightly as he did before.

“We’re okay, right? Just you and me, we’re doing okay.”

Roland nods and sniffles.

“You know what? Maybe we’ll get a dog. When we get home, we’ll go to the shelter and pick out a dog and--”

“Dad, Regina is on her way.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“Regina, the lady who wrote the letter… she and her son are coming to meet us.”

“Roland--”

“Can we please just wait? They have until six. Please!” Robin sighs, shaking his head as his eyes press closed--and Roland bites down on his lip as he realizes how mad his dad looks. “Henry and I--”

“Who is Henry?”

“Regina’s son,” Roland says. “We planned this. We planned all of it just so you two could meet. We have to stay! We have to, dad! We have to see if if she comes.”

“Roland, do you realize how dangerous all of this is? You running away? You getting on a plane and flying across the country by yourself? You coming here and waiting alone in--”

“Some things are worth it, dad.”

“This Henry person--”

“Her son--”

“How do you know that? How do you know he’s not some deranged man who just wants--”

“Dad, we were writing letters to each other. He’s ten and he’s a Boy Scout.”

“This could all be a set up.”

“But what if it’s not! What if she’s the real thing? What if she’s the person you’re meant to be with?”

For a moment, Robin doesn't say anything; he just stares at him, blankly. Then, he draws in a slow and deliberate breath, releasing it as it puffs out in front of them like a little cloud of smoke. “Roland, your mom was the one I was meant--”

“No, dad. Love doesn’t have limits.”

Robin’s eyes narrow. “Who told you that?”

“Mom,” Roland says, feeling his tears starting to well again. “She wants you to be happy. I know that she does. She wants us to find someone and--”

“How do you know that?”

Roland shrugs. “Gus’s mom is psychic.”

“Gus’s mom--”

“Gus has the gift too. He did a reading for me.”

“Your friend who helped you run away to meet some stranger is psychic.”

Roland nods. “And he says that you and Regina probably knew each other in another life and that your heart has missing pieces, kinda like puzzle pieces, but because you couldn’t be together, the puzzle isn’t complete and--”

“Roland, this is crazy! All of that sounds crazy!”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“Roland--”

“Please. Please just stay for a half an hour to see if she comes,” he asks, his voice pleading as his tears stream down his cheeks. “It’s just a half an hour more, dad.”

“And suppose she doesn't come?”

“Then you’ll know you were right and you can ground me forever.”

“Well, that’s happening regardless of whether or not I’m right” Robin says, drawing in a breath. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. There’s a little diner down the street. Let’s go get some cocoa and maybe a hot dog or something, and then in a half an hour, we’ll come back.”

Roland considers. “We’ll be back by six?”

“Yes. Six.”

“Before that. Like five minutes before.”

“Deal.”

Again, Roland considers it and nods, letting his dad pick him up and carry him toward the elevators--his dad has never been the type of person to go back on a deal, and he hopes this won’t be the one time that he does, not when so much is riding on it.

_____

December 24, 1993- New York, New York

Looking around, Regina glances to her watch, then to Mal and Lily. Henry’s been in the bathroom for an unusually long time. At first, she told herself that there was probably a line, and then she started to wonder if he’d made himself sick with all the spinning and turning on the ice so quickly after eating--but now, she’s worried that it’s something else.

“Henry should be back by now.”

“Maybe he got distracted, and stopped off for more hot chocolate,” Mal suggests.

“No, I walked over there. He’s at the tables or by the counter or in line.”

“Maybe he--”

“He isn’t at the food court either.”

“Maybe--”

“He’s not here,” Lily says, her voice slow and tentative. “He’s on his way to the Empire State Building.”

“Excuse me?”

Lily bites down on her lip. “Look. He’s fine--”

“Lily!”

Regina feels her heart start to beat faster as her mouth goes dry. “You don’t know that, Lily. Why--”

“He was going to take the Subway, but I made him take a cab instead.”

“My child is alone in a cab in the middle of New York City?!”

“Of all the stupid things you’ve--’

“He has my mace spray. I took down the name of the cab driver, the company he drives for, and before I let Henry get into the cab, I made that guy show me his driver's license.” Lily draws in a breath, looking nervously between them. “Plus the kid screams like a banshee at the sight of a spider--”

“This isn’t the time for jokes, Lily!”

“Mom, I’m--”

“When did he leave?” Regina asks, her voice rising over Mal’s as she looks frantically at her watch.

“About ten minutes ago… when I went to get an elephant ear.”

“Why would--”

“He’s going to meet Sleepless in Seattle and his son.”

Regina’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Henry and I have been writing to his son, Roland, and some guy named Gus.”

Regina’s brow arches. “Some guy!?”

“Yeah, he’s like an uncle--”

“Or a pedophile! Oh my god--” Regina’s stomach sinks and she doesn’t finish her thought, much less let Lily finish explaining. Instead, she takes off running--running until she reaches the edge of the crowded street. Throwing up her hand she tries to catch the attention of a cab driver--and when a cab stops for someone else, she bumps them out of the way and takes the cab ordering the driver to take her to the Empire State Building.

Her heart pounds the whole way and she chides herself for ever taking an interest in that radio show or Sleepless in Seattle, hating that it’s spiraled and overtaken her life, and hating that somehow Henry found out about it. As much as she’s been attracted to this man and as wonderful and harmless as he seemed, she didn't know that. She didn’t know anything about him other than the fantasy she’d built up in her head. She never imagined that Henry would figure it out or get involved, and she never imagined that it could bring her son into harm's way.

Drawing in a breath, she reminds herself to breathe--she’s only ten minutes behind him, and if they weren’t meeting until six, she has time.

It’ll be okay, she tells herself, again and again as she tries to calm herself down--and when that fails, she urges the cab drive to drive faster.

After what seems like an eternity, the cab pulls up in front of the Empire State Building. Reaching into her purse, she grabs a twenty and tosses it toward the driver, not bothering to wait to see if the bill covers the cost or to see if it actually reaches his hands, and as soon as she’s out of the cab, she’s running toward the building.

“I need to go up--”

“Sorry, the Observation Deck is closed.”

Her eyes widen as she looks to the doorman. “I have to go up there. My kid is up there. He arranged to meet someone and--”

“Ah-- just like the movie.”

“What?”

“An Affair to Remember,” the doorman says, chuckling softly as her eyes widen with frustration. “You know it. Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant. They’re supposed to meet, but--”

“My kid is up there meeting with a stranger.”

“Your kid wearing a red and gray striped scarf?”

“Yes!”

“He’s up there, and I’m pretty sure he’s up there all alone,” the doorman says, pressing the arrow on the elevator. “Go on up and get him.”

Regina offers something that she thinks is a thank you but she can’t hear her own voice over her pouding heart. The elevator seems to take an eternity, but finally, the bell dings and the doors start to open. She doesn’t wait for them to open full, instead squeezing through and forcing herself out.

“Henry!? Henry where--”

“Mom! You came!”

Her eyes widen. “Of course I came to get you.” Dropping down to her knees, she pulls him into a hug. “You scared me half to death! Don’t you ever--”

“Mom, I had to.”

“No, Henry, you--”

The bell on the elevator dings again, and both she and Henry turn to watch the doors open--and she watches as Robin and his son step off.

“Roland, this is--”

Robin’s voice halts as his eyes fall to her--and she watches as Roland offers Henry a little wave as they take a few steps closer.

“I’m Henry,” she hears her son say. “And this is my mom, Regina.”

Robin’s brow arches. “Y-you’re Regina?”

“I am.”

“I… I remember you. From the airport and from the beach.”

Her eyes narrow. “What?”

“I’ve seen you before and--” He stops, laughing. “And I am just now realizing how crazy that sounds.”

She nods as their eyes lock--he’s even better looking up close. “You… came all this way…”

“Well, my son did.”

“Yeah, I, uh… I guess they’ve been….planning this.”

He nods, offering a sheepish little grin and her heart flutters as his dimples sink into his cheeks. “I… I didn’t put him up to this. I just want you to know that--”

“Neither did I.”

A soft chuckle escapes him. “Apparently, our sons are a couple of hopeless romantics.”

“Apparently so.”

“I…” His cheeks flush slightly. “I just can't believe you’re Regina.”

Her brow furrows and Henry tugs at her sleeve. “Lily and I think Mal wrote to him the first time.”

Regina’s eyes widen as she looks to Henry. “What?”

“Then I replied,” Roland tells her. “Me and my friend Gus.”

“Oh--”

“And then apparently, they struck up a correspondence,” Robin supplies. “The details are still a bit fuzzy to me.”

“Very fuzzy,” she murmurs as she looks back to him, their eyes once more locking.

“I--”

“Do you want to grab a cup of coffee?” she asks, her heart beating wildly. “There’s a diner--”

“Just up the street. The coffee’s quite good. They've got burgers and tacos and… all sorts of things.”

“Oh, so you’ve--”

“Always got time to grab coffee,” he supplies. “And I believe they’re open late. Even tonight.”

She grins. “I mean, you did come all this way and--”

Her voice halts and her stomach flops as he holds out a gloved hand to her--and suddenly, she remembers him saying he’d know he was going to fall in love with his wife from the moment their hands first touched, that he’d been simply reaching for her hand to help her out of a cab, and he’d just known.

Her stomach flops again as Henry nudges her nodding toward it as she bites down on her lip, ready for the fantasy she’s built up of this perfect man to come crashing down around her, right then and there.

Life has taught her to expect that much.

That’s when she first feels it.

A spark.

Like magic, she thinks.

She gasps a bit and looks to her fingers pressed to his palm--and as she looks up, she watches a slow grin pull onto his lips as he closes his hand around hers, and she realizes that he felt it too.

Wordlessly, they walk toward the elevator, grinning at each other like idiots while their sons trail beside them--and when the elevator doors close, they both laugh Henry and Roland give each other a high-five.

The ride down is a bit awkward and neither she nor Robin says anything while the boys chatter on, swapping their brave travel adventures of the day. Every couple of seconds, she finds herself looking over at him, almost as if to remind herself that he’s really there and standing beside her and holding her hand--and whenever she does, she has to tamp down a giggle because it seems that he’s doing the same.

The walk to the diner is fairly short and to her relief, it’s not very crowded, so there won’t be any need to rush.

No sooner than they order their food, the boys take note of the jukebox attached to the end of the table and she grins as Robin pulls out a pocketful of change, picking out enough quarters that each boy gets four songs. She isn’t sure what it is about that particular detail, but her heart flutters.

Over burgers, fries and milkshakes, she and Robin talk through the usual first-date sort of topics, covering hobbies and interests and family. They talk a bit about their childhoods and learn they each have a sister--he is quite close with his and she barely talks to hers--and they both attended prep school. They graduated from high school in the same year and even applied to some of the same schools, and though their areas of study were quite different, she wonders if they’d chosen differently if their paths would have crossed.

At some point, the boys wander over to the counter to pick out their desserts--a choice that takes immeasurable consideration and deliberation. Finally, they each settle on a slice of pie--Henry’s is apple and Roland’s is some sort of cream-filled one--and they eat at the counter, likely bored of their parents conversation.

The stories about college lead into a conversation about their jobs and that’s when she admits that he did see her on the docks at the beach that and as her cheeks flush red, she admits she’d been working on a story that involved him--and then to her great relief, he smiles that charming smile and asks if he really inspired her that much.

She rolls her eyes and nods telling him that she can’t really explain it, and he offers her and almost knowing nod before shifting the topic to his own career. He talks a bit about his work as an architect--and she before she loses her nerve, she asks if he’s ever gotten an up-close look at some of the architecture around New York City, and then, he smiles again and admits that he’d love to have the opportunity to have someone show him around.

“They have all sorts of tours,” she explains as a frown forms on her lips. “But, of course, tomorrow’s Christmas so they’re not running. So… that was a stupid thing to bring up.”

“It maybe be a bit presumptuous, but I was sort of hoping that… maybe you might want to show me around?” She brightens a bit, but not before he starts to backpedal. “It’s Christmas. Of course you have plans. That was--”

“I don’t, actually.”

“You and Henry don’t have plans for Christmas?”

“Well, we do, sort of, but it’s nothing either of us really want to do. We always go to my parents’ up in Hartford and…” A grin pulls onto her lips. “I doubt anyone would care if we skipped it.”

“Wouldn’t your mother?”

“She has my sister and her family. That’s more than enough company and less chance of an argument.”

“Well, then,” he says, leaning back and grinning. “It seems like a win-win.”

She nods in agreement as they start to plan out where they’ll go and what they’ll see, sprinkling in bits of impressive architecture with kid-friendly tourist attractions around the city--and then, the next thing she knows, the waitress is walking toward their table with a tight little grin, telling them that it’s closing time.

They pay and offer profuse apologies, leaving more than enough as a tip to cover all of the time they spent simply taking up space, and as they step outside, she throws out her hand to hail them a cab.

“Where are you staying?”

Robin blinks. “Oh. Right. I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Well, I didn’t quite expect to have to stay anywhere--”

“Oh--” Her cheeks flush slightly as she laughs. “I’d almost forgotten how this started.”

“Me, too.” Chewing at her lip, she watches a cab switching lanes, presumably to stop at the curb to pick them up. “‘I’m sure I can find a room for Roland and I somewhere. It’s New York City, after all.”

“It’s a holiday.”

Robin’s brows arch and he looks slightly alarmed. “Does that hurt or improve my chances?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.”

“Ah--”

“But I do know that I can get you a room and a nice hotel.”

“Can you?”

She nods. “My ex-sister-in-law… still likes me.”

“Is she a manager somewhere?”

“Um, no… not exactly,” Regina murmurs as the cab pulls up. “She owns it.”

His jaw drops slightly and he laughs, as the four of them get into the cab. Henry’s head rests on her arm and Roland is all but asleep in Robin’s lap, and though, she should also be half asleep, she’s wide awake and doesn’t want this evening to end.

When they get to the hotel, Robin carries Roland inside and Henry drags his feet behind her, and she can’t help but feel a little guilty for the hour-long ride home that awaits them

“You know,” she begins, turning to Robin as the woman behind the desk checks for an available room. “If we are going to spend the day in the city, it’d be pointless for Henry and I to go all the way back to Connecticut.”

Robin nods, grinning sheepishly as his cheeks flushing slightly as he scratches at the back of his neck in a way that’s completely adorable and makes her swoon slightly. “I was… going to suggest that you stay, but I didn’t want to seem… well… too forward or imply something that… might get taken the wrong way.”

She smile, feeling excitement tingling up her spine as she turns back to the desk, asking for two rooms instead of one. She’s never quite felt this way. It’s more than the excitement that comes along with meeting someone new and it’s more than just getting caught up in the romantic nature of their meeting. She’s comfortable with him, but not bored. She finds him attractive and interesting, and somehow the reality of him is so much better than the fantasy she’d created.

“Here you go,” the woman behind the counter says, offering her two room keys. “There’s also a voucher for the restaurant. It’s closed now, but the bar is still open.”

She nods and thanks her as she turns back to Robin, again feeling that little spark as he reaches for her hand. Roland is already asleep on his shoulder and Henry leans heavily on her as they make their way to the elevator. By the time they open up one of the rooms and sort out the keys, Henry is climbing into one of the beds.

“So, I suppose this is my room.”

“I suppose so,” Robin says, laughing softly. “Though I’ll feel bad if it's the bigger of the two.”

“Nonsense. My son’s claimed this one and I’m sure they’re basically the same.”

“Are you tired?”

“Oddly, no.”

“Neither am I.”

“We both should be,” she tells him. “We’ve had very long days.”

“We have, yet… here we are, not tired with a voucher for the bar.”

A grin pulls onto her lips. “Think they do room service?”

“I don’t frequent many five-star hotels, but I am willing to bet that they do.” Again, he smiles that charming smile and again, it makes her heart flutter slightly. “I’d love to pick up where we left off at the diner.”

“Me too,” she admits.

Robin settles Roland on the bed opposite from Henry, and she draws a blanket up over her son. Robin flicks on the bedside lamp just as she’s turning off the overhead lights, and once both boys are tucked in, he leads her through the door that joins their rooms.

He calls down to the bar, ordering some drinks, while she flips on the TV in search of a movie they can watch.

None of this is at all extraordinary, yet it feels so thrilling.

She kicks off her shoes as a knock comes at the door and she settles back on the bed, watching as Robin answers to accept their drinks--and as he turns back to her, she has the faintest thought of how right this all feels. He doesn’t feel like a stranger and she doesn't feel like she has to meet any sort of expectation or hide the things about herself that she thinks he won’t like--after all, he’s likely seen her at her most desperate and he didn’t go running in the opposite direction.

“Alright,” he says. “A pitcher of Sangria.”

“Ooh, sangria. How fun.”

“Festive, too,” he says, pointing out the green limes in the redwine as he sets the tray down and pouring two glasses. “So what should we drink to.”

“To adventurous evenings?”

“To new beginnings?

“To the start of something wonderful.”

“Ah--I like that one,” he says, clinking the edge of his glass to hers as he sits down on the edge of the bed--then, drawing in a deep breath, she leans in, forgetting all about the sangria she brushes her lips over his. He pulls back slightly, smiling as he sets aside his glass and does the same with hers, and then he leans back in. She smiles against his lips, finding them warm, soft, and intoxicating.

Robin’s hand skims up over her cheek as he cups her jaw and rubs his thumb gently along her neck, making her skin tingle. Reaching up, she pushes her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer as she parts his lips with her tongue--and once more, he pulls back, grinning at her before diving back in, kissing her harder and pushing her back against the pillows.

It occurs to her that, in any other situation, this would all be too much, too soon--yet somehow, with him, in this particular moment, it feels just right.

Her heart beats wildly as they kiss and she’s not sure that’s she’s ever craved someone this way, and as the opening music to It’s a Wonderful Life begins to play, they both start to laugh. At first, it’s just a giggle, but his laugh tickles and only makes her laugh harder, and the harder she laughs the harder it is to kiss him. He pulls back as she laughs out, laughing until her sides ache--and Robin laughs right along with her.

When their laughter starts to fade, he leans back in, pecking at her lips as he rests his forehead against her--and then, he tips his head, leaning back in to kiss her again.

And all the while, she can’t help but think, this really is the start of something magical.

[angeltriestoblog]

Nathan Road and Choi Hung Estate + Tips: Hong Kong 2018, Part 2

Hi, guys! Thanks for sticking around. Today, I’m telling you all about everything that went down during our last day in Hong Kong, and giving out tips as well to anyone who has plans of visiting the city. Since I was very excited for this trip, I took the initiative when it came to planning out the itinerary. I made it my mission to binge watch vlogs and read up on the best places to visit, eat and shop that would satisfy the stomach, heart, wallet and Instagram feed. So according to our agenda for Christmas Eve, we were to have breakfast at the famous Australia Dairy Company, then drop by Choi Hung Estate (yes, this is the actual name of the colorful houses) and Mum’s Not Home (that Instagram-worthy coffee place filled with plants). Then, we’d just look for places around the area where we could scout for clothes and eat dinner. But before setting out to navigate the often puzzling transportation system, we were to roam around the area we were staying in first, eat some street food, go shopping and sightseeing - the usual. The mere minutes we were supposed to spend there stretched into hours until we eventually became so pressed for time we had to change our plans.

Upon looking at Australia Dairy Company’s IG story and seeing the long and winding line of people dying to try their milky scrambled eggs, we had to cross that out of the list, which left me with two other options. I picked Choi Hung Estate on a whim, so my mom and I set out and traveled 11 stations to get there. Several websites had instructed me to take either Exit C4, and true enough, I ended up right in the middle of the complex. I only had to walk to the parking lot behind us and climb a couple of flights of stairs to reach the famed basketball court, which gave a full view of the vibrant buildings towering above it.

Cantonese for “rainbow”, Choi Hung Estate is a residential area established by the Hong Kong government, painted as such to uplift the spirits of their tenants. Its undeniable aesthetic appeal has attracted both tourists and professionals, as it has been featured in marketing campaigns and even a music video of Korean groups (which is honestly how I found out about it) (stan LOONA and stream Love & Live). But most of us aren’t aware that this, along with other public housing projects, has also played an important role in Hong Kong’s history. Due to an unforeseen influx of refugees from China during the time of the second World War, and a fire that displaced over 50,000 of them living in a squatter area, the government took matters into their hands and built permanent estates for them to live in. At present, 30% of the population benefits from this service, while 16% live in apartments purchased with the help of government subsidies.

Okay, enough with the research paper-looking part of this post. Fast forward to later that night, we waited at the bus terminal conveniently located just a few steps away from where we were staying and took an hour long trip to the airport. I enjoyed having my own seat in the corner, listening to music while gazing out the window, admiring the bright lights and bustling people that somewhat encapsulate Hong Kong’s nightlife.

Flights back home are rarely enjoyable to me because it means that I’m going back to reality, but I had bothered checking the videos section of the in-flight entertainment of Cathay Pacific and found several music shows and concert footage with Wanna One in them. I also ate media noche with my family, and arrived back in the Philippines just about five minutes after the clock had struck 12: we literally made it home for Christmas.

This was my second time organizing a trip, the first one being our vacation to South Korea last summer. Back then, I’d get so upset if things didn’t go according to plan, we’d be set back for a couple of hours and adjustments would have to be made due to circumstances beyond our control. Looking back, our Hong Kong trip did not go exactly the way I had planned, but this time around, I didn’t mind as much: in fact, I still had one of the greatest times of my life. Here are some tips that I have to make sure that you make the most out of your stay as well!

First, book a place in a great location. Take us, for example: our hotel was smack dab in the middle of Nathan Road, 3.6 kilometers lined with malls, shops and restaurants for anyone’s eyes to feast on. There were also money changers if ever we needed to convert cash, and a 7/11 that I constantly raided for Haagen Dazs Speculoos ice cream for when we had to buy and reload our Octopus cards. These are crucial to have on hand at all times, by the way, as this serves as any tourist’s means of payment for all public transport, most retail shops, parking meters and vending machines, among many others. Other factors to keep in mind when looking for a place to stay in would be its proximity to modes of public transportation, and the other places on your itinerary.

Second, be extra patient and willing to make compromises! Hong Kong did prove itself to be quite the challenge to go around: the weather was cold, there was a lot of walking involved to get from place to place. People also move really fast, like all inhabitants have a meeting to get to in five minutes, and they rarely apologize if they bump into you in the process. In addition, most of them smoke too - there aren’t any designated smoking areas, much to the dismay of those who are allergic to cigarette smoke like me so the chances of getting the stuff puffed in your face are high. But, I refused to let any of those external factors get in the way and keep me from having a good time.

We also paid a visit just in time for the holidays, which is obviously peak season: it was crowded everywhere we went, queues were long for everything from tourist attractions to bathrooms and waiting times often stretched out for indefinite periods of time. There really isn’t any other way to work around this, except to ditch all your plans and choose to stay at home so if you can’t afford to make that sacrifice, it would be best to accept the things that come with travelling during this time of the year. Drop places that aren’t the most convenient to go to at the moment, and switch them out for more realistic alternatives. If you’re the type who has a lot of specific restaurants on your itinerary, I’d suggest that you don’t be too particular of where you want to eat: there are several great places to eat just littered around the area. The little shops and stalls in the middle of the street, or hidden in alleyways and basements are the ones that locals usually flock to, and thus have the best finds.

Third, be sure to book a WiFi hotspot online as soon as possible! If there’s one screw-up we made during the trip that you could learn from, it’s that we failed to do this, and ended up suffering the consequences. Literally the minute you get your hands on your tickets, head over to Klook and reserve one for your trip. Although all the vloggers I watched advised getting a WiFi hotspot online, their words of advice came a few days too late since when I headed to Klook, there were no more units available for the days of our trip. I didn’t think this would be a problem though and assumed that there would be several available at the airport, just like in Korea. But when we had arrived and scoured all the kiosks, they were all sold out because everyone already reserved online days before. Needless to say, navigating a foreign land either without the help of Google Maps at all, or having to stop at a random place, pray that they have free WiFi and get all the directions needed within the 15 minute time limit allotted for non-paying visitors, was one of the most challenging things I’ve ever had to do.

So, there you have it! I hope you enjoyed my posts just as much as I enjoyed putting them together: I’ve made a pact of sorts with myself to strive to be more creative in taking and editing the photos that accompany my words, so I recently availed of the seven-day free trial of VSCO X. Although I must say it was quite time-consuming, I did have fun experimenting with the 130+ filters available for me to choose from. I plan on writing one more blog post before I go back to school on the 21st, so be sure to keep tabs on that!

Wishing you nothing but love and light,

Angel

[darecruit]

Sneak Peek #3: Open Arms Chapter 16

Second part can be found here.

It's been too long, I know. This chapter is kicking my ass. But here's a long section for you. Finally got some drama and Rachel's dealt her cards. Not sure how Shelby's going to react--any ideas you have are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

It all started as an initiation rite for the Cheerios. The new recruits were expected to prove themselves worthy of the title and uniform. Cheerios were gods amongst men—superior, powerful, and above all else, ruthless to any not from their realm. So it came as no real surprise that the newbies were tasked with pranking (read: terrorizing) the general student body that very first week of school. There were no guidelines or limitations on what could or should be done, and only one rule—Don’t. Get. Caught.

The better the prank, the more public, the better the reputation for the newcomer. Truly epic escapades may even garner the attention—and favor—of the Cheerios coach, the one and only Sue Sylvester. Sue was vicious. She stalked the halls of the school, leaving a wake of terror and destruction everywhere she went. Her victims were students and faculty alike.

Quinn hated Sue…but she loved cheer. It was quite the conundrum. And what ultimately led her to the slushie machine in the cafeteria. She wanted something that would be quick and relatively harmless, but would offer a high return. As far as she knew, no one else had ever tossed a slushie in another student’s face, and certainly not in front of a packed cafeteria.

She hadn’t set out to slushie Rachel, the girl had just been in the wrong place at the right time. Quinn could still recall the absolute shock, confusion, anger, and finally, abject sorrow that played across Rachel’s face as the icy cherry drink hit her dead on. The girl ran from the cafeteria, laughter and taunts following her down the hall and out of sight. The cherry slushie marked her that day, its stain a permanent smear on her reputation. No amount of Clorox in the world could bleach out the red target Quinn had placed on her back.

Quinn gained her own target that day, drawing the eyes of everyone who was anyone, most notably Sue Sylvester. “I like your zeal, Fabray. You have guts and panache. You remind me of a young Sue Sylvester. You will go far with me, Q, just do exactly as I say and never piss me off. Got it?” Sue had said when she called Quinn to her office immediately following the slushie incident. Quinn had nodded, not knowing what else to say to her coach; she hadn’t appreciated being compared to that witch but knew any favoritism from Sue would serve her well. “Then welcome to the team, Captain,” Sue had said before dismissing her. Quinn had left that office feeling numb. Never had a freshman been made Head Cheerio, yet here Quinn was in that top spot.

The team’s reaction to the news was mixed. Fellow freshmen Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce, as well as most of the sophomores and even a handful of juniors, were ecstatic at the announcement. For the underclassmen it meant upward mobility—one of their own was cheer captain and that could only improve their own statuses and popularity. For the outlier juniors, it was a buoy, a lifeline—maybe their last and onlychance at a better, more visible spot on the team that could gain them the attention of the scouting coaches and hopefully, a ticket out of Lima, Ohio. The rest of the team—the seniors, majority of the juniors, and a few power-hungry sophomores—were furious. They had all been jostling for prominence and power themselves and Quinn swooped in and stole it from them. Quinn hadn’t even wanted it, but there was nothing she, nor any of the others, could do about it. Sue’s word was law and they all had to accept it, however begrudgingly.

The only one who didn’t accept it was Harper Daniels, a complete bombshell of a sixteen-year-old. She was the worst of the power-starved sophomores, a pretentious, sadistic creature who reveled in her cruelty. She idolized Sue Sylvester and had been Sue’s favorite (until Quinn), and even that hadn’t saved her from incurring the wrath of the woman. Her fall from grace had been brutal, meant as an example for anyone else foolish enough to question the divine genius of their leader. Harper, of course, laid the blame solely on Quinn’s shoulders and dogged the younger girl the entire year, just waiting for her to fail.

Quinn, understanding how precarious her position was and how lethal even a small mistake could be, threw herself headfirst into the role of resident Head Bitch, playing her part exceptionally well. She wasn’t exactly proud of herself for the things she did and said, but she only had to keep the ruse going for the first few weeks until her reputation truly preceded her. After that she had been able to sit back and let the others do most of the dirty work for her, involving herself only every so often to keep her image fresh.

Though, come to think of it, every time Quinn involved herself had also involved…Rachel. Quinn grimaced and looked away from the piercing gaze all but boring into her from across the room. She needed to up her game—not only did she need patience and perseverance, but an apology probably wouldn’t go amiss either. Yeah, she had her work cut out for her if she wanted to make amends—and make friends—with Rachel.

“Yo, Quinn. Hello?” Lexi waved her hand in front of the other blonde’s face, startling her. Hazel eyes met her blue and she raised her brows in question. “Where’d ya go?” she teased.

“Sorry,” Quinn offered with a sheepish expression. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying, it’s awesome you and your sister were invited to the sacred Sunday dinners—means you’re elite. Only other outsider that’s ever been allowed is Sasha Montgomery and that’s because she and Shelby were roommates in college and Sasha’s home life wasn’t that great, you know? So Nana and Pop took her under their wing. She’s honorary now…guess you guys are too. So, dinner the other night went well?”

Quinn’s brow furrowed as she took in her friend’s words—that was a lot of information to take in. First, did that mean Quinn and Frannie were special in Shelby’s eyes…or did she feel pity for the orphaned sisters? Did Quinn even care? If it got her more time around Shelby, did it really matter why? Second, Lexi knew Sasha Montgomery? Had she met her before? Must have, the way she spoke so familiarly. Quinn didn’t know much about Sasha—she wasn’t as popular as Shelby, but famous enough in her own right, she supposed. Still, it would be pretty cool to meet her, if the chance ever arose—one more reason to befriend Rachel.

Shaking her head, Quinn refocused on her friend. “Uh, I don’t know that ‘well’ would describe it,” she said, and went on to explain the evening briefly.

“I think it probably takes Rach a while to warm up. She was a bit shy in front of all of us at first, and we’re family. I’m sure it’s harder for her with you…especially you going to her school. You really didn’t know her before any of this? You must have seen her around school, right?”

Quinn’s eyes flicked to Lexi’s in alarm. Had Rachel told the girl something? She couldn’t have—Lexi would have said something if she had, right? They were friends…but Lexi was Rachel’s cousin. She’d automatically be loyal to Rachel…wouldn’t she? Was she testing Quinn?

Not seeing any sign of distrust or judging on Lexi’s part, Quinn relaxed a bit. Still, she’d have to be cautious. Choosing her words carefully, she said, “No, not really. We aren’t exactly in the same circle, you know?” Not an outright lie, but certainly not the truth either.

“Yeah,” the other blonde agreed. Then she smiled at Quinn. “She’s really cool once you get to know her. She’s just hesitant around new kids…between us, she doesn’t have any friends. School sounds like a hard place for her—she gets picked on a lot. So, it’d be good for her to have someone like you on her side.”

“I’m…not sure she would agree with you,” Quinn revealed, her stomach churning with the unfamiliar sensation of guilt—at least when it came to Rachel.

“Just be patient with her. And I’m here as buffer—I’ll help!” came Lexi’s confident response. Then, spinning towards the kitchen, she called, “Hey Rach!”

Jack chose that exact moment to enter the house through the sliding door in the sunroom, the smell of charcoal wafting in after him. He ruffled Lexi’s hair as he passed, laughing at his daughter’s answering, “Jerk!”

“Brat!” he called over his shoulder, moving into the kitchen. He met his wife’s knowing smirk and winked at her. She rolled her eyes back, but Jack didn’t miss the quirk at the corners of her mouth. “Grill’s ready.”

Shelby gave Rachel’s shoulders a brief squeeze before releasing her hold. “The girls want you,” she said and wasn’t surprised when Rachel turned to stare up at her, eyes pleading. Shelby sighed internally, her frustration at her child’s increasingly anti-social behavior reaching its peak. Was this another case of jealousy on Rachel’s part? If so, the girl needed to learn to get over it. If not…well, Shelby couldn’t even begin to think what it could be. Hoping whatever it was would work itself out, she pushed Rachel forward. “Go on,” she prodded, her hand moving to add its own encouragement to a denim-clad bottom.

Rachel had barely left her mother’s hands than Lexi’s were reaching for her, linking arms with her left on the way to the basement entrance. There Lexi was stopped by Jack asking for help carrying the meat out to the grill. Lexi grinned and pushed Rachel ahead of her. “You and Quinn go, I’ll be there in a sec!” she said as she changed directions. Rachel groaned and came face to face with Quinn. Her eyes then met her mother’s and, cornered, she made the only choice she could: downfall.

Descending the stairs, Rachel wondered if she should have sent Quinn down them first—less chance of her being pushed down them, certainly. She quickened her pace, not liking having her enemy behind her back, and nearly tripped down the last few steps. She turned in time to see the blonde reaching for her out of her peripheral and sidestepped her with a fierce glare.

Quinn sighed and held her hands up in surrender. Here she was just trying to keep the smaller teen from falling on her face, and she gets a death stare for her trouble. Silently scolding herself, her inner voice reminded her to be patient. Getting annoyed with Rachel right off the bat wasn’t going to help anything. Instead, she took a calming breath and tried again; this was her chance to make it right with Rachel, while the two had a moment alone together.

“So, uh…Look, Rach—”

“Don’t call me that!” Rachel hissed.

“What?”

“Rach. Don’t call me that,” Rachel repeated.

“Oh, uh, okay—sorry. I heard everyone call you that and figured—”

“Well don’t. That’s a name reserved for friends and family, and since you are neither,” Rachel trailed off, eyeing the blonde with contempt.

“Jeez, okay. I get it. I was just trying to be nice,” Quinn groused. And she really was trying. Rachel was the one with the attitude, glaring at her with that ‘look at that bitch eating crackers’ expression on her face.

“I didn’t think that was in your repertoire, Quinn,” Rachel sneered.

“Doesn’t seem to be in yours right now either,” Quinn bit back, then let out a groan. Rachel opened her mouth to retort but Quinn spoke up before she could get a word in. “Wait. Look, this isn’t…I-I’m trying to apologize to you here, Rachel. I’m sorry, okay? For everything. I’m sorry. Can’t we…can’t we start over? Bury the hatchet?”

Rachel stared at her incredulously. Bury the hatchet, Rachel seethed. In her back, maybe! “Fuck you!”

Quinn recoiled as if she’d been slapped. Anger flared and her brain flitted through a plethora of nasty responses. Who the hell did Rachel think she was, talking to her that way? Then reality hit her, and with it, ice-cold guilt. “Okay…Okay, I deserve that,” she admitted out loud. “I really am sorry for how I’ve treated you, Rachel.”

“No you aren’t!” Rachel snarled. “I don’t think you’re sorry at all and the only reason you’re pretending to be is so you can get closer to my mom! And if that doesn’t work, you think buddying up to my cousin will. Well fu—uck you, Quinn Fabray! You can take your sorry and shove it up your ass!”

Lexi came down the stairs just in time to hear her cousin yell “fuck you” to Quinn and—what was that about shoving her sorry something up her ass? What the hell did she miss?!

“What the hell, Rachel?!” she exclaimed, shocked and confused by her cousin’s outburst. “Where are you going?” she asked, blocking the other teen’s way. “What’s wrong?”

“Move, Lexi,” Rachel said, trying to sidestep her cousin, only to be blocked again.

“No, what just happened? Why did you tell Quinn to—”

“It’s none of your business, Lexi! Move!” Rachel yelled.

“No! I want to know what made you tell Quinn to eff off just now!” Lexi stood her ground.

“It doesn’t concern you. Now let me go!”

“The hell it doesn’t concern me! Quinn is my friend and—”

“You know nothing—”

“I know that Quinn’s a nice person and she’s been trying her damnedest to get to know you and be friends with you and you’re acting like a bitch to her every time she’s over!” Lexi all but shouted in her cousin’s face. She saw the hurt and betrayed look that crossed Rachel’s face but she didn’t care. She had overheard her aunt telling her mom (while she was en route carrying hamburger patties out for her dad—not eavesdropping) all about Rachel’s behavior toward Quinn at Tuesday’s dinner and the other times this week the girl had been near. She heard Shelby mention her confusion and frustration regarding it and suspicion that it was probably Rachel’s ongoing jealousy behind it. As her aunt gave a quick rundown of family-related instances, Rachel’s moodiness during their own recent hangouts suddenly clicked and made a lot more sense. Now though, Lexi didn’t care why Rachel was jealous, she was just pissed.

“No wonder you don’t have any friends, Rachel, if this is how you treat anyone who tries!” Lexi finished in a rage.

It was Rachel’s turn to stagger; Lexi’s words hit her like a ton of bricks. Hurt quickly turned to red-hot anger. Without pausing to think, Rachel swung her left arm out, hand whizzing through the air to land with a satisfying CRACK! square across her cousin’s face. “Fuck you, Lexi!” she yelled, taking advantage of the other teen’s stunned paralysis and darting around her and up the stairs.

The door opened before she reached it, the heads of several of her family members appearing before her, all with shocked, confused, even angry faces. “WHAT is going on down there?!” Shelby demanded, eyes blazing.

“We heard yelling,” Diane’s voice spoke at the same time Sarah said, “Is Lexi crying?”

Rachel’s heart was pounding with the rush of adrenaline coursing through her body. Her body was a blur as she burst through the throng of adults, ignoring the squawks and shrieks of them calling her name, telling her to stop and come back this instant. She blew past their words and ran, ran as fast as her feet could carry her, through the living room and out the front door. She leapt from the porch stairs, staggering as she landed, still in motion, carrying her forward. Down the sidewalk to the driveway, then the street beyond.