#they also took the difficulty down a notch or two

[outerspace-iiinnerspace]

so for april fool's day the guys responsible for katana zero put out an alternate game mode called katana hero which is supposed to be a "bad localization" which consists of most of the action (they cut the prison and about half the dragon tape plus some other stuff), a few sprite edits (the flamethrower is blue!), and most of the cutscenes taken out but the ones left in "dubbed" with a nonsensical and paper-thin plot about evil spirits and i am enjoying it IMMENSELY

all the cops (plus mr kissyface, rip) are edited so they look like monsters or space aliens or something

chinatown is just called town

headhunter continues to be the coolest

it's so silly i'm having so much fun

[crystal-wingeddragon-spikes]

Kindly Isma, is one of The Great Five Knight bosses which can be fought in Pale Court fan DLC.

Krita. 8th August 2023

Isma is a curious fighter. Her attacks are not aggressive. They cover great range, but are very slow. However, she makes her battle more complicate by spawning Fool Eaters and Gulkas, two very common Green path/Queen's Garden enemies, and restricting my movement with thorny plants.

Normally, I consider bosses with minion fight (Grey Prince Zote) to be cheap and infuriating, but these minions do not move, making them more of an extra attacks and traps rather than the extra enemies.

Her move set works wonderfully with her minions. She progressively raises the difficulty, without using any new attacks. First, she uses Fool Eaters to create danger on the ground, while the Gulka make sure staying in the air or walls is not safe either. Then, she slowly closes her arena in while spawning 2 invincible Gulkas to keep the pressure on me even if she is not attacking, also making sure healing is nigh impossible. In her final phase, the wall surrounding me are covered in spikes, eliminating my option to wall jump and be a source of damage to me.

Isma's fight feel mostly fair, except for a few moments that Gulka's shots do not despawn when she is changing phase.

I had a displeasure, of suffering her fight for over a week, then achieve my first win defeating on my last health, only to be hit by Gulka's bullet, turning my victory into a bitter draw.

I finally defeat her by entering her second phase with full health, as I give up any hope of healing with 2 bullet chasing me down. Freeing up 3 notches from Quick Focus, I put on Dream Shield, and with the intention to end the hard part of the fight as soon as possible, Unbreakable Strength, Shaman Stone, Thorn of Agony and Grub Song (I can't use Nail art well). I won the fight with 4 mask left, took me almost 4 minutes.

Mighty Hegemol fight that I was worried about turns out a lot easier than I anticipated. I just need to nail bounce on his head once and hop to the side.

Now I head that Mystic Z'mere is even harder. I do not know if I am string enough.

[bengiyo]

Love Mate Eps 7 & 8 (Finale) Stray Thoughts

Last week, Yi Jun and Ha Ram began pre-dating in earnest. Yi Jun wanted to see if he could properly care for someone again, so they slowed things down to get to know each other more. I loved it, because some relationships, especially gay ones, start physical and then the emotional work of getting to know the other gets skipped in lieu of sex. Yi Jun changed his entire project at work in light of his new relationship, but now it seems that the team wants to hire Yi Jun's cruel ex as the spokesperson and model for their project.

Episode 7

Ah, their first big difficulty. Yi Jun is pretending he's fine, but he's clearly not.

I don't like that knowing look DK gave Seo Yi Jun.

Work wife has a name! It's Jin Eun Sun.

This DK guy thinks he's slick, using his past history to sell his involvement and simultaneously trying to convince Yi Jun that he sees what he did to him now. I don't trust him.

I'll forgive Yi Jun for retreating into himself because he's just being distant, he still let Ha Ram hug him at work, and is considering telling Ha Ram what happened.

I'm mad at these flowers DK tried to give Yi Jun, because if he knew his tastes this well, and wanted to find him for three years, why would he break up in such a cruel way. It also looks like Yi Jun hasn't moved??

I liked the different levels of anger, offense, and disgust Cho Hyun Min conveyed as Yi Jun when DK was trying to lay on the charm. I like that DK is genuinely charming and laying it on thick, because that's how Ha Ram started as well. I like when a show adds context to earlier reticence by having an ex show up and use similar behaviors.

Okay, letting Ha Ram fall behind in the frame was a clever way to highlight the growing distance between them right as they get into a small fight about this. Ha Ram is not going to reveal that he already knows, and Yi Jun is rebuilding the original walls he had.

You better come through, Writer Jin Eun Sun!! She's the only one Ha Ram could talk to, and she said you better talk to your man! Someone get her a plate!

This studio knows how to use their limited time well. Having DK try to show that he's done the emotional work on himself by detailing all the ways Yi Jun took care of him works so well. We get to feel aghast as the cruel way he ended things with all of these reveals, and it cleverly places us with Ha Ram right after when DK seemingly won't take no for an answer.

OOO, classic yaoi framing. Putting Yi Jun between the two guys pursuing him as the final shot was a great choice.

Episode 8

He's his lover! Claim it!

Choosing neither of them is in line with Yi Jun, unfortunately. The writing is top-notch on this show. He tells DK he owes him nothing, and chides Ha Ram for being rude, before dismissing both of them.

That was an incredible break up scene. These are almost never good, but Yi Jun wanting to quit because he felt embarrassed by both guys pursuing him makes so much sense. His feelings for Ha Ram are new, and I totally get him backing off after being made to feel like a damsel or prize. Cooking a relationship because you feel like you can't commit to it is the choice we say people should make sometimes, so I'm excited to see how Yi Jun turns this around for himself.

Choosing DK is probably the right choice professionally, but it comes at the cost of connection. They're making a project about love and connection, so I doubt this will work.

Oh, I'm really glad Ha Ram and Yi Jun heard DK's conversation. We don't have enough time for just Ha Ram to know. Unfortunately, Yi Jun is just going to take it.

I do like that their manager worried about Seo Yi Jun when he didn't show up to work, knowing that was unusual.

I like Ha Ram a lot. You can't fix people's problems all the time, but you can love them even when they're being a bit mean to you until they find themselves again. "If it's hard to do this alone, I'll stay with you."

When Ha Ram said, "Expressing and receiving emotions is difficult for me, too," it made me think about the aggressive use of tropes earlier. We love tropes, because they're a way for us to understand the characters and their intentions. We like the ritualistic nature of them, but they don't always work because they're not always aligned with what the characters or even the audience wants out of the story. Yet we use them still, because we understand what they're trying to convey.

I don't think either of them is awful, but I like them giving themselves permission to make mistakes with each other.

I feel like I need to ping @respectthepetty because I feel like I'm seeing something with DK wearing red in this scene after using blue and mixed black and white earlier.

Sometimes you don't need words. Sometimes you just need to throw a drink in someone's face.

He set their photo from the wedding shoot as his background. I love this man.

Yi Jun's enamored smile as Ha Ram walks down in this suit is fantastic. Good job with this crew showing a brooding character finding his sunshine again.

Let me tell you, I go feral for the second, deeper kiss after the first one every time.

Oh good we're back in the boyfriend shirts for the domestic scene.

I like not showing DK again or any of the people cast for their program. It doesn't matter if DK did his job or not. He no longer has control over Seo Yi Jun.

Final Verdict: 9.5, Highly Recommended. This is our third outing with Studio Winsome, following My Sweet Dear and Our Dating Sim, and I think they may be on to something here. @shortpplfedup teases me for being a cynic because I always love the sad gays, and SHE IS RIGHT. I always go hard on the shows where a gay character has suffered and gets the chance to find happiness. This one is a little bit headier than Our Dating Sim, so I'm taking half a point; I felt like I needed to trust them to do something with the aggressive use of tropes earlier, and I'm glad it paid off. This team, more than any other Korean team, seems to understand how to maximize their limited time. I'm deeply impressed.

[chil2de]

bestie, you gotta give us some kinky gojo sooner or later😤

i actually haven’t written gojo for months but— bestie i hope this was kinky enough for you😳😳 i can always take it up a notch [wink wink]

readmy disclaimerrr <3 thanks enjoy

also: i vibe with second year gojo more than i do present gojo but, that would make him 16-17 so lets bump him to a third year, thanks!

w.c: 1.5k / characters: 8.5k (incl spaces)

-

icy cold and curious fingertips easily curl around your waist, padded digits carefully kneading the delicate skin underneath your uniform. your head snaps to face gojo, who only passively stares past you and outside the window at the cityscape whizzing by.

“satoru—“ you grit through your teeth, swatting his prying fingers away from you. he hisses a meek sigh of hurt, cooing at you through his plush lips.

he leans down to whisper in your ear. pretension drips in his tone and you can feel the heavy weight of his grin flash against you.

“come on now, baby girl. don’t tell me you were all talk earlier.” he hums, tone low and rich. it sends acid bubbling in your stomach, throat clogging and ears ringing.

“we’re on a train, you fool. can’t you wait until we get home?” you snap at him, turning to face the doors of the train. you wiggle out of his inviting and enticing touch, opting to wrap your hand around a nearby handle for some support.

his large and calloused hand wraps around yours. he’s adamant about this.

gojo’s toned chest collides against your spine. you can feel the brush of his dick print heavy on his jet black uniform. he rests his jaw on your shoulder, tinted shades sliding down to the bridge of his nose. you meet his azure stare in the reflection of the door and he gives you a small smirk, free hand traversing underneath your arm to give your breast a small squeeze.

“so what if there’s people on this train? no one’s in this cart right now.”

it would be a miscalculation to say that it took you less than a second to melt into gojo’s coaxing words. you may always try to believe that you’re the more mature partner in your relationship, but you’re equally as terrible as he is.

“you’re awful.” you snort at him, reaching out behind you to run your fingertips through his soft titanium white locks. his hair has the fresh scent of coconuts laced through it.

“but you still love me.” he hums, trailing the tip of his tongue against your neck. you can’t help but jitter a little at the temperature difference and the cold air that clashes against the wet patches afterwards.

his teeth nibble against the skin there, lightly pulling and tugging. as much as he wants to leave bite marks, he’s not about to deal with infections. he decides to settle for second best and instead works to suck and pull onto your neck. you can feel the slight crackle and static where the small nerves underneath your skin burst.

“don’t look away.” he murmurs, commanding you to keep watching him in the reflection.

gojo’s saliva dribbles down your neck, sliding trails down into your shirt that lies underneath your jacket. your thighs squeeze and rub together as you emit small whimpers. it’s music to gojo’s ears, the way you’re writhing underneath him and pressing up against his cock. it almost makes him want to allow you the thing that you crave so dearly.

“satoru-“ you exhale breathlessly, resolve faltering already.

“swear you were against the idea of us fucking on a train minutes ago?” he drawls, finishing up his masterpiece on your neck.

“s-shut up” you grunt, breaking off the eye contact. you can't stand to see how his eyebrow perks up in mockery, the way he peeks at you through his thick lashes.

gojo grabs fistfuls of your hair, yanking you back with such force that it leaves your eyes glassy.

“you want me to stop?”

you swallow thickly, shaking your head.

“that’s my good girl. open your legs for me, yeah?”

when gojo spins you around before crouching down himself, you’re left with shock and awe painting your features. your lips hang in a wide ‘o’ as you gawk down at him.

“no.” you guffaw.

right here, right now?

he’s still going to tease you, even on a train?

his hands pry your legs open, pretty pale face staring up at you. but holy shit, if he doesn’t look so good like that. for once, you understand why he gets off so much whenever you stare up at him during blowjobs.

he bundles your skirt up, hitching the fabric up before letting out a low wolf whistle. he scoffs, lips tugging into a grin and he glances at you with amusement.

“you’re so fuckin’ cheeky. how long were you prancing around like that?”

he eyes the glistening juices that slick against your cunt, how the viscous liquid paints the inner portion of your thigh. it shimmers in the fluorescent light, clashing against the soft pink tones of your pussy.

“all day, actually.”

at this newfound information, gojo lifts an eyebrow up in concern. his long middle finger prods against the entrance of your cunnie. he presses into it, applying pressure, but never really enough to fully finger you.

“so needy. waiting for my cock all day?”

gojo suddenly dips not one, but two of his fingers deep inside you. you swallow him up instantly, sucking him in and taking his digits down to the knuckle. he’s fucked your pretty little pussy too many times to count, curled his soft fingers and massaged your walls for months. he has no difficulty in claiming your sweet spot, kneading into the spongy crevice there.

he cranes his neck up a little, running his tongue down flat against the length of your cunt. he twirls the muscle around your clit, lapping at the sensitive bud whilst his fingers procure obscure squelching sounds.

you whine a pathetic plea, yanking some of his strands and thus pulling his face forward for more friction. he slips his fingers out, opting to slurp against the entrance of your pussy.

“tastes good, baby.” he hums, seas of deep blue staring up at you. it makes you hiss and jolt, eyebrows furrowing and face contorting.

“satoru- please—“

“hmmm? what is it, princess?”

you can barely afford to mince a sentence together. the way he’s crouched underneath you and feasting on your pussy like it’s the last supper he’ll have leaves you breathless and dizzy.

“your dick-“

“mine? what about it?”

you groan out a fit of frustration, knuckles turn white in his hair. there’s a pout that adorns him as he flinches.

“i want it, you fucking idiot”

“oh? you want my dick? that’s cute, babe. you should’ve just asked.”

“i can’t say no to my little angel.” he gives your pussy one last kiss before straightening himself, clicking the tension out of his neck.

“now then…”

he motions his index in a slight flick, other hand working to unzip himself.

“leg up.”

you reach out behind you, laying your palm flat against the train door to catch your balance. you shakily lift your leg up, allowing gojo to press his hand and hold you by the back of your knee. he groans when his veiny dick springs from its confines, curved shaft slicking against his jacket. the fabric makes him cringe a little, but he doesn’t waste time in aligning himself with your creamy cunt.

gojo guides his throbbing pink tip in, glancing down to watch how your pussy wraps and folds around his cock. it’s always been one of his favourite sights.

your head tilts and jaw falls slack at the initial push of his head. your thighs tremble and chest heaves as his dick fills you up and snaps into place like a jigsaw piece. there’s that vein on the underside of his shaft that always drives you crazy.

“so tight. you’re so wet for me. fuck.”

“you little shit, you’re totally into this as much as i am, aren’t you?” gojo grabs ahold of your chin, tilting your face to look at him. his lips briefly clash with yours. he pulls you in, tugging at your bottom lip and circling his tongue against the tip of yours. there’s a thin line of saliva that separates your mouth from his. he tastes faintly bitter yet sweet. it takes a couple of moments for it to click that it’s the taste of your own cunt.

“i know it feels good, but, try not to scream?”

“yeah ri- aah!-ght-“ you squeak, body jolting when gojo pulls himself out before slamming himself right into your g-spot. there’s the loud slap of his balls hitting against your skin, and it’s only a taste of what’s to come.

“you say somethin’?”

“n-no-“

“really? i thought i heard you talk. you tryna say that i’m wrong, then?”

“n-no-“

you’re not sure how he can keep up with the conversation. all you can hear is the garbled static in your mind, the froth that wants to seep out of the corners of your lips. you babble and whine incessantly. every rough slam of his hips sends you even more over the edge, ecstasy and harsh tingles crashing against your body as gojo rearranges your guts. you’ve lost all feeling in the leg that he’s holding up. just watching him fuck you like this is almost enough to make you cum.

you eye the deep blue veins that ride against his pale skin. his long and slender fingertips reach out as he curls one hand around your neck, thumb brushing affectionately underneath your chin. it’s nothing but a warning sign.

“listen to me when i’m talking to you.”

[thotsforvillainrights]

hihi! I've recently (and since a few months ago) been stalking reading your posts and have grown quite fond with them, they're so fun and cutesy to read it makes my heart swell!

how about all for one with a sierra agriche (if you don't know her just search up sierra agriche's personality on google :)-like fem s/o but the s/o is always sad all the time, just some cutesy fluff.

maybe add in a scene where all for one picks up his s/o and carries them like a child :))

and they also have a baby, that's quirk makes the child last forever as a baby.

hopefully that made some sense, i love your work sm! they make my day ^^

(Hope you’re still alive after waiting 2000 years for me to answer this for you. I can at least pray I did it correctly! I’m sorry!)

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

-He seems to be more patient with you than most people. He has genuine love for you that developed surprisingly out of simple curiosity and interest from seeing you on the streets. Watching you gently lifting a rose from a florist’s basket to take a small sniff before a light smile stretched across your face. While you were admiring the scents of the flowers, he was admiring you. Just the way you carried yourself while you chatted with the florist made him feel so much more different in a way. When you looked up and locked eyes with him, it was like a breath of fresh air. In that moment, you were the only woman/man/person that mattered not just on the street but in the city...Hell, in the whole world even! He was willing to put aside his goals momentarily while he started to court you.

-Old man is old fashioned in his ways. Opening doors, sending you love letters instead of just texting you or calling you. On your birthday you may have been so overwhelmed with gifts that you had to tell him to take it down a notch. All of the attention was admittedly making you shy (and you were by nature), but he took note of that and tried to bring you out of you shell around him regardless. It started to work luckily! 

-He’s killed and caused bodily hard to people here and there. Other times he’s sent others to do his bidding. At one point you had to turn a blind eye when you found out about him seriously harming the Number one hero at the time. In that fight, he himself did not emerge unscathed. You did your best to take care of him. He always did the same to you. Those hands that held such brutality at times were the same hands to lift you up and hold you with the utmost care. Its confusing to say the least (at least to people outside of the relationship).

-Despite his kindness, he’s unable to prevent the sadness you display seemingly on a regular basis. For someone to outwardly display such kindness, grace, and compassion shrouded by shyness occasionally, you held so much sadness. It was off-putting at times for him at first but he became used to it. He found ways to help you work through it. He loves you so dearly and it’s very apparent especially in times like these when he’s holding you close and helping you to work through it. 

-Despite his schemes and his plans with his work, he put his domination on the backburner for a few months when talks of having a family came along the line. Before you knew it, you had introduced a child into your lives (whether that be by birth OR adoption depending on you the reader). The baby had him wrapped around the little finger from the very first moment. One was to tame evil was with love apparently. Unfortunately this parenthood thing was not without difficulty. When quirk development year came along at the age of 4-5, your child began aging backwards. Thankfully the reverse development stopped at infancy and you were left with a toddler that looked 2 instead of 5! AFO had his best team on research when they determined it was a quirk that caused this. You two will likely have a lengthy talk leading up to you having to decided whether or not he’ll use his ability to take this quirk from your own child so they can grow, or will you keep them as a baby for years to come? It’s all up to you but no need to worry about whether or not you’ll have his support. That does not, and will not ever falter.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

OH ANTONI 🥺🥺🥺 my poor baby. I hope he will find it within himself to come clean to Jake or SOMEONE about this :((((

(((ALSO CANT WAIT FOR MORR))))

One Two Three Four Five Six

CW: Wound cleaning, burns, touch aversion, aftermath of torture, BBU, conditioned fucky headspace

"Lift your chin for me," she commands, and he doesn't really remember that he could choose not to obey.

Antoni dutifully shifts, his eyes moving to roam over a line of framed photographs along the wall behind her. A wedding photo, faded with time, a much, much younger version of the woman currently dabbing a cotton ball dipped in something cold and stinging to the fresh burn on his throat with a man he's never seen. The two of them are smiling, holding hands, looking right into the camera.

Bright white wedding dress turned cream with yellowing paper, with time, covered in lace. Powder-blue tuxedo. Brilliant smiles.

She touches the cotton ball to his skin and he hisses, hands tightening where they grip the edges of the chair he's sitting on. The sting rockets through him, only a pale echo of the original pain, but it's enough.

It's enough.

Fuck, that's hot.

He catches the sob before it can leave his throat, forces the burn behind his eyes to stay there and not turn into tears. He will not cry over this again.

Not now.

"There we go, just a bit more," She says, her voice gruffly compassionate. She presses a small rounded bandage against his throat, her fingertips are warm against his neck.

His skin crawls at even this slight, indirect touch, but he doesn't protest.

He wouldn't dare.

"All done. That's not s'bad, I think with a good bandaging it won't scar half so bad as all its little friends down south," She mutters, more to herself than him, really.

Where her fingers touch, he feels the echoes of other hands around his throat. Thicker fingers, heavy with rings. Smiling down at him.

Beg for me, love.

"Please-" It's automatic. He's drifting, in and out of this old kitchen that still looks like it must have looked thirty years ago, when the man in the wedding photo would still be here maybe cooking or cleaning or chatting up a storm to anyone who popped by for a visit.

"Hm? You say something, sweetheart?" Miss Ruth looks at him, and those dark eyes are shrewd. They know more than anyone is supposed to, they know things Nat hasn't told her. Hasn't had to.

"Ah, no," He whispers. "Just. I am very tired."

"No doubt. I'll finish these up and you can get back to your own bed and no doubt you'll be glad to get there." She looks him over, and his eyes dance to hers and away again. Back to the photos.

He sees a family photo, the two people from before and a daughter and son. Everyone is smiling, looking carefully just off to the side. They wear matching outfits.

"Get a look at 'em?"

There's a 35th wedding anniversary picture with a big banner behind the happy couple. The two people, much older, stand in front a cake nearly as tall as they are, surrounded by others. Everyone in the photo smiles in sort of the same way.

The next photo is a birthday, he thinks. There's a boy and a young baby in the photo, and the man from wedding and anniversary photo isn't there. Miss Ruth, holding her grandbaby he thinks, is wearing all black. The photo was taken in a church, and there's a spray of white lilies just visible at the edge of the picture.

Another, with Jaden, who Chris plays basketball with. The kid who more or less effortlessly opened his life for Chris when Chris badly needed a friend his own age, or closer to it, to remember what being a kid was like.

He is reading, in images, the story of this woman's adult life. Marriage, and death, and birth. Children. Life going on.

A life he won't have, that he gave up every possibility of having, because of... of whatever is inside him that Mr. Davies knew about, that the people who just hurt him could see in him even though he cannot see it himself.

He must look like someone who deserves to be hurt.

"Young man." She taps on the back of his hand and he flinches, blinking at her, struggling to pull himself out of his reverie. Her words filter through his mind, shift into the language all his thoughts are moving in, come back out in hers. He swallows, feeling a lump in his throat that refuses to move.

"I'm... sorry," He says softly, with difficulty. "I did not hear."

"I can tell. I asked did you get a good look at whoever did this to you." Her eyes roam over his chest, his stomach. The circle of new burns, placed so carefully compared to the haphazard placement Mr. Davies had favored, no pattern at all. "Looks like they took their damn time, anyway, to get you so much."

"N-... no." Antoni's eyebrows furrow, and he tries to think, but all he can remember is their hands holding the lit cigarettes, the quiet one touching his face, ruffling his hair. He can't... he can't remember their faces at all. "I am sorry."

You're fucking gorgeous, buddy, you know that?

"Hm." If she's disappointed in him, nothing changes about her expression, still held in a kind of skeptical compassion as she wets a new cotton ball in liquid from a small frosted plastic bottle and touches it to each burn, one by one, in the circle. It's like a ritual, the sting, washing away a bit of sin with each hint of pain. He clothes his eyes and breathes carefully through it.

When he is done, each circle covered with a bandage that is shades darker than his skin, she steps back to look him over, critically. She steps away and he takes in deep breaths free of her air, the powdery scent of her. He breathes in her absence, no one nearby.

She returns with a washcloth and he takes it, scrubs at his face until his cheeks are red but clean, until you can't tell anymore that he cried while they burned him.

Good boy.

"You can stay here," She says, voice low now. "Sleep it off for a while. I've got a guest room."

"No. No, I will go home. Thank you. I will... I want to go home." He looks out the kitchen window right at Nat's house next door. No lights are on... yet. But there isn't much time before they will be.

"Fair enough. You plan to tell 'em what happened to you?"

He looks back at her, searches for the judgement, finds none.

"No," He says. Confesses, really, his sin. "I will not."

I will lie to them.

"That's your choice to make, I suppose." She lays a hand on his arm. He doesn't pull away from her. He wants to unzip himself from his skin and step out of it, let them all have what they seem to want to touch so much.

Instead, he holds himself perfectly still, until she pats him a few times and steps away again.

"I've done what I can do. You come back over here tomorrow or the day after and we'll look 'em over again and make sure they're healing up nice, you got me?"

"Yes," He says. He is good. He can be good.

"Right. Off you go, then, before your people wake up and you get to come up with a story about why you're in an old widow's house at 4:30 in the morning, hm? You're pretty enough, but you're no Wilbur." She laughs to herself, a dry and crackly sound, and he thinks that her laugh was the sort that could set a whole crowd to laughing, when she was young.

It still is.

The corners of his mouth twitch in an answering smile.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, and pushes himself off the edge, standing up again. No one has seen his scars, no one but this old neighbor woman who looks at them like they are simply part of living, not something to be pitied. "I go. S-... thank you."

"Paugh." She scoffs, waves a hand in dismissal. "Go on, now. You've thrown off my morning coffee time. Tell your young man that Jaden will be over this afternoon."

She all but shoos him out the door, and the air is clear and clean and quiet. The only dirty thing is Antoni himself, smudged and mussed, still feeling in his scalp the prickles of Quiet One's hands, still feeling on his arms the sharp pressure of the shirt tied around his wrists.

Still aware of every single burn under the slight pull of the bandages pressed over them, the gentle sting that feels like a return to how he was always meant to be.

Even the walk from one yard to another feels like too much. Antoni's eyes move over the empty darkened windows of the houses all around him. How obvious he must be, if three people saw him in the darkness and knew him for a pet pretending to be human.

He shouldn't have left, shouldn't have gone on those walks. He'd left himself open and vulnerable, hadn't he? His scars are deeper than skin, and they must shine like the streetlights to anyone who knows what to look for.

Antoni stops at the porch, where he carefully lifts a loose bit of board from the porch railing, finds the small box hidden inside. The slightest scrape of metal on metal as he pulls off the lid makes him freeze, but no one is awake to hear it. He takes the contents of the box, moves it quickly back to its hiding place, replaces the board.

Like nothing ever happened.

Everything can be made as good as new, as long as it isn't him.

He slips inside the safehouse, where everything is still quiet, in the silent inhale that comes before the exhalation of morning. The clock in the kitchen reads 4:45, fifteen minutes until Jake's alarm will go off, until he - and likely Chris - will stir.

Fifteen minutes for Antoni get upstairs and look so deeply asleep that no one will realize he was ever gone.

No time to shower.

He will have to sleep with the grime of their hands still ground deep into every single pore. He will sleep with Deep Voice's we know what you are in his ears, with Quiet One's fingers tangled in his hair, running over his skin. He will sleep with Lookout's eyes locked on his chest as he presses the cigarette in.

Antoni hasn't worn a collar in years now, but he buckles it on, just one notch too tight like Mr. Davies would have, and climbs under the covers, pulling them over his head.

He breathes in as deep as he can, to feel the constriction. Breathes out, and runs his hand up over his chest, over the bandages that cover his burns.

They knew what he was.

Everyone always will.

Good boy.

The ashtray falls asleep humming a lullaby, afraid that if he pulls the blankets back down he will see bars on the windows.

[opalescient]

haikyuu fic recs — the most beautiful, lovely, breathtaking masterlist (vol. I)

so i’ve been binging fics to cure my sadness, and i thought that these select masterpieces were too magnificent to not be plastered on every billboard ever. some tore my soul into shreds, while others melted said shreds back whole, but all of them made me feel some form of sheer, unadulterated love, so. please enjoy! 🥰⛅️✨

note: all of these fics are exquisite and you should read all of them, but if you’re short of time, those with ☆ are my all-time favourites!

daisuga

butterfly in the subway by bigspoonnoya ☆ | T

Sugawara Koushi has no idea he's already in love with the man he's supposed to hate.

i lovelovelove how all the concepts tied in together like a perfectly wrapped gift

also very wholesome, made me feel so inexplicably warm. like, love can exist everywhere!!! despite everything!!! that’s just so inspiring

i revisited this many times, i think it was (one of) my first haikyuu fics and honestly. it set the bar so high and i have no regrets

you’d fit my lonely arms so perfectly by boxofwonder ☆ | G

“Oh. You're. Not Asahi.”

Calmed down enough that he can speak again, Daichi takes a deep breath, his smile settling on his face easily and wide.

“Not as far as I know, no.”

-

Suga accidentally calls a stranger instead of his best friend, tells him all about his burned batch of cookies before realising, and that particular mistake might turn out the best one he ever made.

major, major fluff

the buildup!!!

god this made my yearning for love so much worse

the perfect stranger by downmoon | T

There’s a man standing outside Suga's door.

Scratch that. Start over.

There’s a man he doesn’t know standing outside his door, holding his sleeping nephew in one arm, with another kid clinging tightly to his free hand.

so domestic please read the entire series from start to finish it has my whole heart

shoyou and tobio as their actual kids 🥺

these two parents are so in love it makes me wanna cry

asanoya

silica sand by lilien passe ☆ | G

Overworked, over-stressed programmer Azumane Asahi works on the top floor of a Shinjuku skyscraper. Nervous around his coworkers and terrified of the long drop on the other side of the window, Asahi falls into a miserable routine, only to have it broken one day by a simple message on the outside of the glass.

PLEASE. so well-written it makes my heart glow and ache simultaneously

made me ascend into asanoya heaven

such a brilliantly unique concept i love it A+

qué syrah syrah by loudlucy | M

Asahi wants to be a Master Sommelier. It's the highest honor in wine service, and the certification would allow him to live the life he's always envisioned for himself. Too bad the certification test is notorious for being the world's most difficult.

Most people fail their first time taking the exam, and Asahi is no exception, but he has more difficulty than most dusting himself off and getting back on his feet. Enter Nishinoya, a young man who shares his same dream, and who believes in their goals so fiercely it forces Asahi to embark on a delicious and sensuous journey of viticulture and validation.

AKA The Wine Tasting AU that literally no one even knew to ask for.

NOTE: You Do Not Need to Know About Wine to Understand This Fic!

another super unique concept!!! (´∀｀=)

my god their chemistry is amazing

the writing made me feel things ngl

stop my bones from wondering by cerasi ☆ | T

After graduation, Asahi hides from the world and needs help from a few sources to find his way back.

i want to write sonnets and sing ballads for this fic, it’s that beautiful

as always, Top Notch Writing *chef’s kiss*

no but i seriously... can i kiss the author? asking for a friend 😳👉🏼👈🏼

iwaoi

star-crossed by starlitcities | T

“I never thought I’d see the day that I’d envy a human,” Oikawa admits, showering himself in tiny suns, because he can actually feels those, like a fusillade of warm kisses on luminous skin that leave marks. To humans, they’d be freckles. Skin stars, Oikawa calls them. He didn’t make that up, a human did.

“Who created the rule that we can’t touch, I wonder,” Iwaizumi ponders, floating heedlessly through space.

“Maybe it’s because we can fly. Humans dream of flying, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

gsjsgsjshsjshsjsj star!iwaoi

they’re LITERALLY STARS

beautifulbeautifulbeautiful i love how the author conveyed the beauty of touch and humanity 🥺🥺

please bless yourself further with the sequel sun-kissed

conquering the great king by suggestivescribe ☆| E

Iwaizumi blinked his gaze over to Oikawa, "Last time was supposed to be a one time thing," he said, voice low, lacking some conviction.

Oikawa's lips twitched into a smirk and he brought them hovering just over Iwaizumi's, "One time thing, Two time thing, what's it matter as long as it's not a Relationship thing?"

yes.

in fact, this entire series (breaking the rules) features daisuga, kuroken, asanoya and it’s SO GOOD. every single one.

but anyway, character development!!!!! plot!!!!!!!!! writing!!!!!!!! i’m here for it all

tsukkiyama

campfire in your chest by deanpendragon ☆ | M

Kei realizes in their second year of high school that he’s probably been in love with Yamaguchi since they were ten. However hopeless he might be in handling that situation, Kei prays he’s at least not as hopeless as Hinata and Kageyama. But he just might be.

SO BEAUTIFUL

i am also a sucker for anything with stars, moons and all the love in between

no words to describe this work of art please just go read it and be blessed

under the lilac tree by raewrites | G

there’s a lilac tree in Kei’s backyard.

gorgeous in its simplicity

softtsukkisofttsukkisofttsukki

not as grandiose as the rest but the love written into every word, action and character is absolutely show-stopping

kagehina

saffron and cayenne pepper by dontsaycrazy ☆ | T

Cooking is hard. Even if you have your very attractive, very grumpy neighbor there to help you.

-

In which Hinata's lack of cooking skills are a danger to him and others. Luckily (or not), Kageyama is willing to teach him, if only for the sake of avoiding any burned down apartments.

the essence of their characters were captured so well and yet it’s like they’re completely new characters too? author, whoever you are, you totally owned this

this made me ship kagehina so hard

fluff! cuteness! lots and lots of cooing!

kuroken

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) by cosmogony ☆ | T

soulmate

/ˈsəʊlmeɪt/ • noun

A person who was made from the same star as you.

-

// Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives.

ahhh here it is. beautiful, heartbreaking, soul-emptying agony. you want angst? choke on this, and your tears later on.

no but seriously please read this if you haven’t you won’t regret it at all i promise

written from kenma’s perspective so you experience every depth and multitude of emotion he does and it’s so raw and- brb imma go cry for a sec

knot in my heart by hearthope | T

There’s a picture. Kenma blinks, looking at the little calico cat, being held up next to the face of a guy with stupidly messy hair and a crooked grin.

Cute.

The— the cat. The cat is cute.

Just the cat.

-

Kuroo starts spending a lot of time at the flower shop Kenma works at. Kenma definitely isn't into him.

okay so i like it when authors unravel a normally stoic character’s full scope of emotion and give them depth, sue me.

anyway, back on the fluff train!

i absolutely f*ck with flower symbolisms, cats and bitchy best friends who have dirt on each other. the layers of romance, friendship and everything in between is so prettily developed 10/10

bokuaka

the jacket you never returned by daisuga ☆☆ | G

He leaned over, kissed Bokuto on the cheek, and smiled bitterly, eyes watery.

He will never remember. Not now, not ever.

What they were will now forever be forgotten.

-

"You used to call me Keiji, Koutarou."

YOU USED TO CALL ME KEIJI, KOUTAROU!!!!!!!!!!

i beg you to listen to Spiegel im Spiegel when it’s first mentioned in the story please

i read this and screamed through my tears for a solid 1.5 hours. i rarely cry.

no f*ckin regrets though i read this thrice already and it hurts so good every time

rules by conesofdunshire ☆☆ | E

In which Akaashi Keiji is an overworked accountant who stumbles upon Bokuto one night playing the piano in the lobby of his work. Bokuto is different, that much is obvious. But with such supreme musical talent and a smile so dazzling it rivals the sun, there's just something about him that brings Akaashi back every night.

this fic. this fic has my whole, broken, sobbing heart and laughing soul

gorgeous. breathtaking. magnificent.

bokuto is so WARM and akaashi is so STRONG and they both find the solace they need in each other and it’s all i want for me 😭😭😭

in another life by littleluxray | T

Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too.

The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

this is a famous fic that i doubt any seasoned haikyuu reader wouldn’t know, and RIGHTLY SO BECAUSE, the PAIN. the pain. the pain.

i could feel my lungs shrivel up and my chest cave in on itself. fatigue and rest are things i struggle with too so this whole story resonated with me from start to finish, and it broke me. in like, the best, most revitalising way

i would read this again but it still haunts me at night. i need to heal from the first time before i have the guts to try one more time HAHAHA 😆💔😭

tea-stained polaroids by dalyeau | G

“I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head.

mmmmmmm pretty photographer + personalised coffee cups + cute baristas = diabetic fluff fic

i smiled so much throughout this you have no idea. cheeks achey but so good

i may have squealed a little at the ending

kurotsukki

moonfall by batman | T

There is no unlearning Tetsurou, after all. There is only leaving him.

-

(Five things of Tetsurou's that ended up in Kei's home, and one that never left.)

the writing!!!!!! is pure beauty!!!! sheer grace!!!!!!! the construction of the AU and the romanticism and hsjsgsjshsj

didn’t cry but. heart ache and bittersweet smiles are another level of misery that is just as fulfilling

yea just pleasepleasepleaseplease go read it thank you and have a good day

hidden gem by realmSpinner | E

Things get complicated when everything you thought you knew about a guy changes, and they get even more complicated when you actually start liking those changes.

That guy working with you AND becoming your neighbor? That's just a cherry on top of the cake of confusion.

this AU was refreshingly different, and amazingly so

top!tsukki??? sign me the f*ck up

the whole plot, man. perfection.

pings by barfs ☆☆ | T

[5/02/16, 3:50:17 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Please wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:50:23 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I hate begging. You know I hate it.

[5/02/16, 3:50:34 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I bet you’re snickering at that, wherever you are.

[5/02/16, 3:50:53 AM] Tsukishima Kei: But, it keeps hurting and I don’t know why and it feels like shit and I know you could tell me why, but you’re not here and I would really appreciate it if you’d just wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:51:02 AM] Tsukishima Kei: You’re laughing at that too, aren’t you.

[5/02/16, 3:51:10 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Dying is probably up there in the list of top ten shitty things you’ve ever done, and you’ve done a lot of shitty things.

god.

you already know what’s coming, and yet. when it comes.

how the f*ck did the author make grief beautiful????????? (at the expense of me dying along with kei and everyone else i guess)

this fic will ruin you and bury you under all your pain (i hope you’re ready)

but also put you back together with the “sequel”

kyouhaba

close to the chest by darkmagicalgirl | T

It takes Yahaba thirteen years to realize he's different from the other kids, one to figure out how to hide it, and two more to learn to be happy just the way he is. Yahaba's journey ft. an extremely annoyed Kyoutani, best friend in the world Watari, and loads and loads of good senpai Oikawa.

cause i’m (not) alright with the slow, burn~

no fr, take slow and burn very seriously

overthinking yahaba? i understand. i do.

again, such an amazing fic; 10/10 recommend

safe here by crossbelladonna ☆ | M

“Raids are routine work,” Kyoutani tells to Yahaba before he can air the question. “Sometimes there is no sleep done until we accomplish something, say kill a certain ghoul. I guess they’re still going through the possibility that people in the accident are still alive huh?”

Yahaba quirks a smile, pushing his mask up his head.

“You’re alive.”

Kyoutani looks at him intently and all of the things that they’ve gone through for the past month seems to flash in his mind.

“Yes I am.”

i haven’t watched tokyo ghoul but i understood everything perfectly. such is the power of f*cking kickass writing

*cue ugly crying and a lot of unresolved angst*

like the grief??????? ruin me please thank you 🙏 (i think i’m a little masochistic)

rare pairs

mannequin men by surveycorpsjean ☆ | M

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tuskishima]

The modelling world is full of hungry wolves, constantly clambering over the other, snarling and desperate. They fight, and they kill, trampling over anything in their path.

In this case, Akaashi fell in love with the wolves.

i did not expect this to be good, and it wasn’t. it was SPLENDID.

akaashi is so enamoured with them from the get go i love it

a tiny bit of angst that stabbed me in the heart, but the happy ending soothed it (thankfully, because if there wasn’t one i will sue)

characterisation, writing, plot development; everything is great. can you tell i’m running out of synonyms for ‘beautiful’

feel like gold by heronfem ☆☆ | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/kenma]

In which Kenma is unapologetic and comfortable with who he is, Akaashi learns a lot about himself in a short period of time, Kuroo is wildly in love and an eternal survivor, and Bokuto remembers that love doesn't cure mental illness, but having a support system sure helps a lot.

Or, the one where 4 young men get together, and are helplessly, hopelessly, utterly in love despite everything.

e.e. cummings?? poetry??? f*ck yes

so beautiful. i’m so star-struck by this fic it’s simply stunning

there are no words to fully capture how worth your time and heart and mind reading this fic is so please. do yourself a favour, and fall in love with this fic with me

the sky and guilt are the only feelings i have left by oopsthisisqueertoo ☆☆ | not rated

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo]

Akaashi is at his wits end. He feels nothing. He's quickly crumbling as a human being. He wants nothing but sweet release of death. In his fourth year of college he drafts a plan for his suicide. He is to graduate, publish writing for others to be inspired by, and slip quietly away. Shortly after, he meets a dog walker named Bokuto who asks him out and Akaashi reluctantly agrees. Nothing matters anymore and he treats Bokuto like an obligation. Until he's not anymore.

TW: SUICIDE ATTEMPTS & DEPRESSION

this was... this gutted me entirely and filled my body with too many shades of agony

arguably one of the best haikyuu fics i’ve ever read

so beautiful in the most painful way fathomable; strongly recommend

april to may by surveycorpsjean | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tsukishima]

They're an odd family.

The four of them? Parents?

But still, they're a family.

So they'll support each other until the end.

aaahhhhh third gym as parents 🥺

so much fluff. i also love april and may

they’re still so in love there’s love in every millimetre of this fic :”)

that’s it for now! i’ll add more if i come across anymore good fics. i hope you enjoyed this list! if you have any requests/fic recs, or if u just wanna chat, feel free to just ask! hehe 🥰 k aight bye~

[gumnut-logic]

This one is definitely @flyboytracy ‘s fault and I have no idea if it will go anywhere, but have it anyway :D

@selene-tempest There is a chance your boi may need some assistance.

-o-o-o-

“John? I know you can hear me. I need you to come down.”

If it had been anyone other than Aunt Val, John would have ignored the request. But it also coincided with an alarming lack of contact from both of his eldest brothers.

Thunderbird One and Two were onsite in the north of England, assisting in the location of a lost party in the Lakes District. Both ‘birds hadn’t been needed, but One was on the way back from a fire in Greenland so dropped in to give a hand.

Last John had heard before deploying Gordon from Tracy Island to rescue a fishing boat off New Caledonia was that the party had been found.

Virgil had made a comment about some very unhappy people, but John had been drawn to the difficulties of the storm Four was currently wrestling.

Virgil and Scott were to tie up that rescue and go to assist Gordon.

But then all telemetry from Scott and Virgil blacked out.

It was startling and John was frozen for a split second before demanding everything he could from Five’s sensors. Eos did a deep dive and found no interference.

Scott and Virgil comms and biosensors were no longer reporting.

One and Two were parked in a large field, not far from where Scott and Virgil were lost on sensors, but no camera could his brothers.

Fortunate or unfortunate, coincidence or not, Aunt Val was on her way back to London from Edinburgh at that very time and out of desperation, John asked if she could check in on his brothers.

Eos already had the elevator prepped and Five was on the move.

John was not used to not having information and all scans of the site were giving him nothing. The group of people that had been rescued were present, but no brothers.

It took all of five minutes for Aunt Val to arrive on scene. It was a strange reversion of what usually happened with the GDF. It was usually International Rescue saving the Global Defences’ day. Most certainly not the other way around.

Perhaps it wasn’t a surprise that the answers weren’t immediate and John ended up having to go down anyway.

John’s shoulders were wired so tight by the time the elevator hit packed dirt in a parking lot, he could have supported the space vehicle without the need of the nanocable, all by himself.

One and Two were iconic against the grey sky, sitting alongside a grey GDF flyer.

John stepped into gravity and sighed, forcing himself to run over to his Aunt, standing beside Thunderbird Two.

She was talking to…a giant dog.

A huge black St Bernard was sitting and glaring at her. For a moment John thought he might have to worry about an attack, but the big dog just sat there.

The moment it caught sight of John, it started whimpering is a pitiful way.

“Aunt Val?”

She looked at him with so much relief and worry, John’s heart upped another notch in the heartbeat derby.

“John, thank goodness. Your brothers need help.”

“Where are they?”

The St Bernard rumbled and whimpered more.

“I believe that is Virgil.”

“What?!” The brown eyes of the dog were ever so distraught. “How?!”

“Apparently, the people he was trying to rescue, didn’t want to be rescued and did…this.”

The next question was obvious. “Where’s Scott?”

The St Bernard shifted to one side and John realised it had been sitting on something.

There was a blur of motion and a much smaller dog, a very brown border collie dashed out from under the massive black dog and tore up dust until it leapt up, front paws hitting John in the chest and nearly knocking him over.

Startling blue eyes whimpered up at him.

John stared as he stumbled.

“Oh, hell.”

-o-o-o-

Part 2

[buckyownsmylife]

white winter hymnal - tom hardy smut

The one where you’re Tom’s PA and you two get snowed in.

Warnings: smut, boss/employee relationship, dirty talk, kind of sexist remarks?, that wasn’t my intention, but maybe that’s how you’ll see it, so I should warn you about it, reader is very sex positive in this fic, idiot in lust, PA!Reader, jealous!Tom, kinda possessive! or maybe asshole!Tom, again it wasn’t my intention, I just wanted to write some dirty talk, use of the term cockslut and another that I can’t remember, or maybe it was cockslut twice

A/N: I’m not really satisfied with this collage, but this will have to do 🤷‍♀️ Anyway, here’s another anon request I received a while back. Please take everything Tom says as nothing more than dirty talk. Also, I did that thing where I wrote a pre-POV intro, idk if it’s any good but when the inspiration hits, I just roll with it ✌

Y/N wasn’t having a good week at work. It wasn’t that something wrong had happened - actually when you considered the cold facts about what had left her feeling so high strung that a simple touch almost made her moan, anyone would think she was crazy. Those were nice things, good situations that she’d found herself in.

But she’d disagree emphatically. There was nothing nice about the fuck-me eyes with which Tom, her boss, had regarded her when she arrived on set with the pencil skirt that she knew made her ass look great. There was nothing nice about the way he’d commented on how she was out to get him, making his life more difficult because of the way she was dressing. There was nothing nice about how he had kept on complimenting her, telling her how pretty she looked with her hair down, or how he joked about how it must have hurt when she fell from heaven.

And especially, there was absolutely nothing nice about the subtle, fleeting touches he’d decided to shower her with, leaving her burning and more aroused than she cared to admit, considering how innocent they actually were. Tom had been flirting with her ever since her job interview, it was nothing new and she should have gotten used to it by now.

But the truth was that she didn’t, she couldn’t. And who could really blame her, when every day it seemed like Tom stepped up a notch, making it harder and harder for her to ignore his advances and keep things professional between them?

Especially considering just how badly she needed to get off and just how attracted she was to him and his stupidly perfect body and damn hypnotizing smirk. She was only human, after all. A human woman with healthy desires that seemed to revolve exclusively about her boss.

God, she was pathetic. At least, she could always count on Saturday nights. That was the time she managed to escape the acting world and the craziness of the set where they had been filming for the last month to go to the bar and find someone who’d take her home and help her deal with her growing levels of horny.

If it weren’t for random strangers who knew what to do in bed, she wasn’t too sure she wouldn’t have succumbed to Tom’s spell and climbed him like a tree already. And that’s where she was headed, just after she stopped by his rental house and went over their schedule for the week ahead.

She’d get through this, she thought as she made sure her coat was tightly wrapped around her waist before exiting her car and running towards the front door, ignoring the snow that had been lightly falling since that morning. Just two more hours and she would be on her way to drowning her needs in another stranger’s body, just to pretend that she didn’t think about Tom during the entire act.

Yeah. She could totally do this.

Tom was screwed.

He had been since he first laid his eyes on her, some five months ago, just before they moved to this fucking freezing country to start filming for his next movie. He knew even back then, he should have thanked her with a smile, explained that she wasn’t right for the job, and asked her out. The fact that she was the best person for the job shouldn’t even have counted, because he was head over heels for her in that first meeting, how the fuck could he keep himself away when she was supposed to be working by his side every minute of every day?

In the end, the idea of having to wait until the end of filming to actually get to spend some time with her made him take the impulsive decision that led him to this situation. Having her so close, but nowhere near what he wished for.

It was hell on Earth. Especially since he knew she felt the same way, he could see it in her eyes, in the way she squeezed her thighs together every time he so much as looked her way. If only she wasn’t so unbelievably professional.

“Tom?” He heard her sweet voice calling out from downstairs and casted a glance at the window. The snow had been gradually building up since that morning, it was a surprise she had managed to reach his house in the first place. But of course, she would never let something as silly as the weather keep her away from her responsibilities.

With a low chuckle, he made his way to the living room, rubbing his hands together to create some warmth despite the heaters that were working overtime since he arrived at that house. It didn’t matter, it was still too fucking cold.

“Ready to go over your schedule?” He trailed his eyes over her body, taking notice of the dress she was wearing over the warm leggings. What day was it? Oh, right. Her day off started the minute she finished this one last task, and then she’d be off to…

He knew where she’d be off to. Thinking about it made him see red, especially since he didn’t have the opportunity to do the same where they were. He envied her, but he envied the lucky bastard that got to fuck her tonight even more.

“Of course,” was all he said, assuming a spot on the seat next to hers on the couch. She visibly tensed, but then threw him a small smile that seemed to try to ease her own nerves, to which he returned with a grin of his own.

“What are you all smiley about?” It was nice to see her more laidback, it was clear that the prospect of letting off some steam tonight was relaxing her. Tom could work with that. In fact, it just made his plans that much easier.

“I can’t imagine how someone could be near a woman as beautiful and not be happy, sweetheart.” Her smile immediately dropped, her eyes growing twice their size as he maintained his grin. “But let’s get on with it, shall we? I have a lot to plan out with you.”

She raised an eyebrow at his lack of interest in continuing to mess with her but shrugged it off before opening her planner. They did have a lot to talk about before she could finally leave to the nearest bar.

Tom chanced a glance out the window as she tried to locate their current week on her faithful notebook. This might just turn out the way he needed it to be.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Aaaand… I guess this finalizes your schedule for the next week,” I commented as I made sure to correct the time for a phone interview Tom would be having on the following Friday, before glancing up at him. He’d been mostly quiet for the last few minutes, a stark difference from how he had behaved during the entire meeting. Through all my time working for him, it had been the first time he was actually really present for the scheduling of his following week, making changes and trying to be sure that it would go as smoothly as he wanted it to be.

It wasn’t an unwelcome change, but it sure was peculiar. And by now, I knew him enough to get that there was definitely a hidden reason for him to be behaving this way. Still, I couldn’t yet grasp what it was that he had planned, so I resigned myself to getting through with what I intended to do for the day, and thankfully, that was now done.

“Well, if you won’t be needing me anymore, I’ll be getting out of your hair now.” I smiled softly down at him when I left the sofa, making quick work of my scattered papers and random pens before straightening out to say goodbye. “What?” I had to ask since he was looking at me like he was trying to contain his laughter.

“Well, first of all, sweetheart, I always need you. Perhaps not in the way you’re supposed to help with, according to your job description, but it’s the truth.” I had difficulty maintaining eye contact after that, opting to stare at the mountain of documents in my hands while I fidgeted from one foot to the other, feeling the arousal inside of me sparkle before starting to burn even more intensely. Why did he have to be so honest about wanting me?

“Second and perhaps most importantly… I think you’re stuck with me for the rest of the evening, love.” That made me look at him again, desperate to find any signs that he was only toying with my emotions, anything to show me that he was only playing. But all I got was a nod of his head, pointing towards the windows, and that’s when it hit me.

We were snowed in.

A lot of different feelings took over me at the realization. First, there was despair. What would I do now that I couldn’t go to the bar? Then, there was anxiety. How the fuck was I supposed to survive spending the night with my boss - to whom I was attracted to - in a house with a single room in it?

Finally, sheer panic set in, making me shake my head in frustration. I’d never be able to find enough control to resist him without the release that my weekly escapades granted me. And by the way he stared up at me, with those darkened eyes filled with lust, I could tell that he knew.

I watched with a trembling body as he slowly rose from the seat and made his way to me until we were chest to chest. His eyes ran up and down my body until they finally settled on mine again, and I had to bite down a whimper. 

That’s how weak I was for him. He could reduce me to a wanton mess with a fucking stare.

“You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question. Both he and I recognized it as a fact. Still, I whispered into the air between us, “Yes.” Immediately, he pressed on. “Of me?” I almost melted at the sight of such a burly, strong man, towering over me and devastated at the prospect of threatening me.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I waited for her answer with a heavy heart, but the hopeful expectation that she did actually feel just the same as I did: scared at the prospect of what could happen between us, but equally excited. 

“No.” I tilted my head at the word, curious as to what was her explanation, then.

“Then what?”

“Of what could happen if I let go of my control. Of what I would become.” Slowly, a smile took over my face, and I finally felt confident enough in her feelings to feel like I could touch her. So I raised my hands to hold her hips, rejoicing in just how small she was in comparison to me. It felt like I could very easily pick her up and take her - in whichever way I wanted. And there were a lot of them.

“Let go,” I whispered in her ear, having leaned down so I could compensate for our difference in height. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you without that precious control of yours.”

Goosebumps had spread all over her skin at the difference in temperature of my breath and her skin. I watched in fascination, following their trail, rubbing my nose across her jaw before finally, her lips were inches from mine. And then they were mine.

I possessed her mouth just like I’d fantasized for so long, desperate to make up for the lost time, for all the nights I spent alone thinking about her while she was off with someone else. And she responded just in kind, her arms barely able to embrace my body, but her palms were spread over my back, pulling me closer, and that was more than enough for me. 

For now, at least. Now that I’d captured her on my web, there was no way I was letting her go before I fulfilled each and every one of the dirty, dirty dreams I had about the two of us. I was going to ravish her. I was going to ruin her.

She let out a tiny whimper when I pried her lips open with my tongue, before melting in my arms as I explored her mouth, basked on her taste. “You know there’s no way I’m letting you go now, right?”

By the way she looked at me with hazy eyes, it was clear that there would be no resistance from her whatsoever. She was pliant and soft in my hands, easily following when I picked her up and climbed up the stairs to my room with her in my arms. And then, when she was on the bed, there was just no way I could control myself anymore, not even long enough to take off our clothes properly. So I just flipped her skirt up, before ripping apart her leggings and finding her underwear absolutely drenched for me.

“Fuck,” I whispered, already reaching out to rub my thumb over her nub, making her gasp and cry out for me. “I can smell you dripping through the fabric, sweetheart.” To my pleasure, she didn’t seem coy about it at all. 

Oh, no. My little assistant, the picture-perfect of professionality was licking her lips, frantically nodding to my indication. “For you, I’m always dripping for you.” A smirk took over my face at her confession, my cock hardening even more at hearing that while I was suffering silently all that time, so was she.

So I ripped her underwear to shreds, spreading my hands over the inside of her thighs to get the perfect view of that pussy that had been haunting my dreams. “Shit, I can’t wait to eat that.”  And with only those words as warning, I dove right in, attracted by the sweet smell that made my mouth water.

She was just as sweet as I thought, but the sounds with which she filled my bedroom were what drove me crazy. I couldn’t close my eyes to fully appreciate her taste, too transfixed by her beauty, unable to believe that I finally had her, that it was her pussy I was currently lapping.

“Damn, look at you,” I hummed against her clit, making her jerk and try to pull away for a split second before I threw an arm over her hips to secure her position. “You fought so hard against your instincts, only to end up right here, spread open for me.”

With each word that left my lips, she seemed to get closer and closer to her release. “And to think you could have had my mouth on you all this time. Tell me, darling, do you think a stranger could make you feel better? Were any of the people you fucked, trying to ignore our connection, this great at making you cum?”

I could feel her muscles quiver under the soft skin of the inside of her thigh, and I doubled my efforts on her pussy, determined to see her cum at least once before I finally got my cock in her. It was throbbing now, begging for any sort of attention, but I was too transfixed by the sight of her reaching her high, the way her chest heaved as I quickly rubbed her clit with my tongue before sucking it into my mouth.

“Gimme your cum, baby. C’mon. Been waiting so long to get you in my bed…” She came as I hummed against her, the sensations obviously flipping her over that edge. “Fuck, you’re sweet.”

I kept on slowly cleaning her up, mindful of not hurting her, as she struggled to get her breathing in check. Despite her sensitivity, I couldn’t get myself to part with her taste just yet, even considering the possibility of eating her out some more, making her cum one or two more times before I fucked her properly.

But that was all before she fractured my control with two simple sentences. “Want some help with that? I’ve really been looking forward to getting your cock in my mouth.” I hadn’t even realized that I had been grinding against the mattress as I pleasured her, just to relieve my needy member at least a little bit.

What I knew was that I most definitely would not be able to hold back enough to feel her mouth around me. At least this first time. So all she got was a growl as I pounced on her, forcing her to taste her cum as I kissed those gorgeous lips and held her knees open to accept my weight between them.

“Right now, I’m gonna fuck this little pussy until you’re sobbing for me, okay, love? If you beg nicely, I might let you taste me later.” She whimpered in response, and a smirk took over my face. “Wow, you really are cockdrunk for me, aren’t you sweetheart?” The whine I got only made me laugh, giving me a little bit more control to tease her some more.

“You think you’re ready for me?” I asked, pressing the head of my cock against her clit, rubbing it with my member. “Are you sure you can handle my dick, darling?” Watching her thrash around the bed in an effort to get me to push into her was something I never thought I’d get to see. It made that moment of victory just that much sweeter.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I was trembling in anticipation to finally have him inside of me. To feel that fat cock stretching me open, filling me up like I’d always wanted it to. It was enough to drive me absolutely crazy with desire.

“Yes, yes, please, I can handle it. Please, stop teasing me,” I begged, my hands not able to choose what to hold as I struggled to keep myself from losing my mind over my boss’ cock. From the depths of my desire, I took notice of the way he smirked, one eyebrow raised up as he stared down at me, still slowly running the head of his cock between my pussy lips.

“Teasing? This isn’t teasing, love. Teasing is what you did to me, every single day since we met, parading everywhere with those fucking skintight skirts.” And with those words as preamble, he finally slid home, only stopping when he was completely inside of me, hitting my cervix and difficulting the now herculean task of remembering how to breathe again.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be this tight. I just fucking knew it.” Those were the last things I heard before he started pounding me against the mattress, barely having given me any time to get used to his thickness. 

If I thought I was losing my mind before, it became clear from the way he was bruising my insides that there was no possibility of me ever leaving this bed as a sane woman. Tom had managed to reduce me to a blubbering, stupid mess. He truly had turned me into his cockslut, I realized. I’d do anything just to keep being filled by him, over and over again.

“See? This is what you could have been having this entire time. Me and my cock. Instead, you just had to leave me for those random men. And while you were out, having your fun, all I had to keep me company was my own hand.” Tom never stopped the torturing pace with which he kept on fucking me as he slowly drove me crazy with his words. It was just unbelievable how great he was at dirty talk, I felt like I could cum already from the rhythmic attack on my sweet spot and the filth he was spilling. 

The mental image he elicited of him touching himself didn’t hurt, either.

“You’re so egoistic, sweetheart. Wasn’t it your job to serve me? Instead, I had to get off all by myself.” Despite the teasing nature of his remarks and the still brutal pace of his thrusts, his touch over my body was gentle, as he gathered my hair away from my face so he could bury his head in the crook of my neck.

“You… You could have had anyone you wanted,” I managed to remind him, starting to mirror his movements, fucking myself up on his cock. “You could have had anyone at all.” Abruptly, he stopped hiding his face against my skin, pushing away just enough to watch my expression - or maybe to show me his, in all of its seriousness.

“The only one I wanted was you. This was everything I wished for, since day one.” Tom raised himself slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts in a way that had me gasping in surprise, while also preventing me from being able to figure out what I could possibly say to that. So he continued, slowing the movements only a bit, but fucking me deeper, his eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t pinpoint. 

Tom’s P.O.V.

She gasped, finally giving up that last little bit of control and allowing herself to relax against the mattress as I did all of the work. “But now I have you, huh? And this is where you should be spending your days, with my cock deep inside of your pussy, keeping me warm, keeping me happy.” I kissed her before finishing, “Keeping me fulfilled.”

With a moan that electrified every single cell of my body, she came and prompted my own orgasm, and I spilled inside of her with a roar, momentarily losing my strength and falling on top of her body.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, darling. Let me get out of you.” But she stopped me from leaving her arms and her pussy, hugging me to her chest until I had no other choice but to cuddle her.

“It’s okay,” she said, fingers lightly running through my short hair. “I like it.”

I fell asleep that night happy because I understood that was her way of saying that she was satisfied with this development in our once strictly professional relationship. And I couldn’t wait to wake her up with another reason why she shouldn’t regret this.

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch 20- Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Summary: Frank and Fliss head off for their trip to Vermont…

Warnings:  Bad Language words, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N:  WOOHOOO MY MOJO IS BACK! And who better than to bring it back than FRISS! This one’s a LONG update, and I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not!!! I hope you all enjoy!! Happy New Year! Gotta thank @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for her Vermont knowledge that helped pull this all together.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 19

“How many times have you read that now?” Fliss asked as Frank pulled the well-worn copy of ‘Man’s Search For Meaning’ from the small carry-on bag.

“I have no idea.” Frank shrugged as he kicked the bag under the seat in front of him.

“It’s at least five in the time we’ve been together.”

“Well it’s my favourite.” Frank looked at her. “You know you should give it a go.”

“What’s it about and don’t say a man searching for meaning.” Fliss cut off his sarcastic response before he could utter a word and he chuckled.

“It’s about a guy in a Nazi concentration camp.” Frank explained. “It describes his psychotherapeutic method which involved identifying a purpose in life to feel positive about, and then actively imagining the outcome. Basically how meaning of life is found in every moment of living and that life never ceases to have a meaning, even in suffering and death.”

“So, light reading then.” Fliss snorted and Frank gave a chuckle.

“I used to recommend it to my second year students.” His fingers traced the cover gently. “One of the modules on the Metaphysics side of things focussed on Ontology which is the study of the nature of being, existence or reality, so to speak, which linked into the Philosophy of mind and studying mental properties, consciousness and the relationship that has to the physical body in particularly the brain.” He rambled off as he looked at Fliss. “The book has it all. It’s the reason I decided to study Philosophy and not Math”

Fliss smiled at him, her head cocking to one side. “You sound so passionate about it.”

“Well, I enjoyed it.” He let out a deep breath. “Safe to say Mother wasn’t a fan. She was, and is still, far too logically minded. She preferred the study of mathematical problems as oppose to fundamental ones concerning matters such as existence, knowledge, values and mind…” he trailed off “Maybe a little part of it was rebellion, I don’t know.”

“Do you miss it?” Fliss asked.

Frank took a deep breath “Honestly, yeah, sometimes.” He shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about going back but I wouldn’t even know where to start now. It’s been almost 10 years since I taught, the techniques will have all moved on.”

“Sure it wouldn’t take you too long to pick it up again.”

“I’m happy as I am, honey.” He smiled.“Maybe when I get older…”

“How much older do you wanna be?” Fliss teased “I mean you’re 40 next year.”

Frank shot her a look and she laughed, her hand squeezing his knee, but before he could reply the PA cut in and the Pilot spoke to them, announcing that they would soon be ready to commence their flight. It wasn’t long after that before they were asked by one of the hostesses to fasten their seat belts and the plane jolted as it pulled away from the stand and set off taxying to the runway.

Frank needn’t have bothered with his book after all, as their chat just continued as it usually did, and a beer or two later they were both surprised when the Captain announced the approach into Philly. By the time they’d gotten off the plane and made their way through the transfer line, they actually only had half an hour or so to spare so they grabbed a quick coffee each and made their way to the gate ready for the final leg. At quarter-to-three in the evening they touched down in Vermont and Frank didn’t miss the excitement in Fliss’ eyes as she turned to him and uttered one simple word through her grin.

“Snow!”

He chuckled and took her hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin below her knuckles, keeping his fingers laced into hers as they waited for the plane to come to a halt at the stand before they stood up. Frank stretched his arms above his head, flinching a little as Fliss reached out to tickle the strip of skin on his belly that had appeared thanks to his sweater riding up slightly. He grabbed her hand and arched an eyebrow as she giggled.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Cowgirl.” His voice dropped a little and it sent shivers down her spine as she bit her lip, peeking up at him with innocent eyes. Eventually, the line in the aisle started to move and Frank thanked a man who stopped to let them out, his hand warm on Fliss’ back as he guided her in front of him, dropping a kiss to her cheek as they made their way off the plane and into the airport.

By the time they’d gotten their luggage, which miraculously had made its way through without going missing,  and picked the hire car up it was almost half-three. Frank tossed their bags into the trunk of the shiny grey Ford Explorer as Fliss made her way to the passenger’s side.

“Oh my God it’s so cold!” she grinned as Frank climbed in to the seat beside her.

He laughed as he adjusted his seat “Dur, snow.”

Fliss rolled her eyes and set about retrieving the email confirmation she had on her phone. She keyed in the GPS and Frank gave her a quick smile before they set off.  The forty-five minute drive was full of laughter and an air of childish excitement. Fliss had settled on the Moscow area of Stowe, Vermont as it was less than fifteen minutes to the Ben and Jerry’s factory, and also within thirty minutes from the Smuggler's Notch resort for the weekly fireworks display. On Friday night they were heading out to the Ice Castles at Woodstock. That had been a total stroke of luck as the attraction normally closed early march but due to a slight delay in the opening this season thanks to some 'technical difficulties', whatever that meant, their last weekend open coincided with this one. Fliss had booked the five thirty to six pm time slot as recommended by Jake who had been with his kids the previous year, meaning they would be inside when it lit up.

The sun was starting to set as Frank pulled off Route 89 and they got a glimpse of the town for the first time. It didn’t escape Fliss as to how festive it looked, like a scene straight from a Christmas card with the snow-capped rooves on the red buildings and the bright white spire of the church. It was another ten minutes or so before Frank turned onto the road where their lodge was and Fliss pointed suddenly as she spotted the one they were looking for.

“That’s it. Adams Mill Cottage.”

Slowing down, Frank pulled up on the drive and cut the engine, the pair of them looking at their home for the next few nights. It was gorgeous. Set back off the road, someone had been and cleared a path from the drive to the door. The rear outside porch area which bent round the property in an L-shape was lit up with strings of rope and fairy lights, and Frank could see the steam rising from the hot tub as it snaked from under the covers, nestling in the privacy and shade of the hilly area the house was flush too, the rest of the private yard area was closed off by a wooden fence.

“Looks even better in real life than on the photos.” Fliss grinned. Frank looked at her, and she gave a little squeal of excitement before she yanked open the door another exclamation about it being cold hit his ears before the door shut behind him. Shaking his head at her enthusiasm he let out a little chuckle before he stepped out and followed her to the door where she was already working at the key safe, keying in the code she’d gotten on the confirmation. Frank grabbed the bags from the trunk and headed over to where Fliss was now unlocking the door. They both stepped inside what was to be their home for the next few nights, stamping their feet off on the mat before Frank closed the door.

“Wow…” Fliss muttered as she looked around, the smell of an open wood fire cascaded around the room and Frank took a deep breath through his nose, savouring it. He loved that smell, it reminded him of nights when he was a kid with his dad in front of the huge one they had at home, one that post his Father’s death had on the whole remained unlit as his Mom and Walter had preferred to use the central heating, lighting it only for weekends and special occasions.

They made their way into the living area to find it was cosily decorated in neutral colours, with a large grey L-shaped sofa, a light wooden floor which was partially covered by a cream and grey rug upon which a glass coffee table sat. But the thing that drew Frank’s attention was the huge stone chimney breast and fireplace in which the fire was crackling away. There were large windows on three sides of the room, which looked out onto the snowy garden area and he couldn’t help the sigh of satisfaction that left his mouth. This was his type of property. He loved their home in Pinellas, that was a given as they’d spent a lot of time decorating it to their taste but there was something about this type of cabin that he loved. Together they wandered through to the kitchen which was very farmhouse-like, adorned with silver, grey and white tiles and a huge Aga stove along one wall.

Fliss’ eyes grew wide as she took it all in, running her hand over the solid oak island in the middle before she glanced out of the patio doors and let out a happy little sigh.

“Oh Frank, I love it.”

He moved to hug her from behind as they both stood looking at the view.

“Just wait till we’re outside in the tub with that back drop!” Fliss beamed, nodding to where the little woodland edge met the lawn of the garden. Frank smiled, dropped a kiss to her cheek and then they continued their tour finding the bathroom and finally the bedroom which sported a large, king-sized bed with a huge grey headboard covered in a white and pink throw.

Frank placed their bags down, smiling.

“It’s beautiful.” Fliss turned to him, grinning, and Frank made a noise of appreciation as he undid his jacket, tossing it onto the chair in the corner.

“Like you.”

“Smooth!” Fliss laughed and he grinned, his hands falling to her hips as he pulled her close.

“You know me, all about the smoothness.” He quipped, rubbing his cheek against hers, his beard scratching her slightly and she squealed, attempting to get away, but he wasn’t letting go. Laughing, the pair of them pitched sideways onto the bed and Frank leaned over, kissing her gently. It wasn’t long before the kiss grew deeper and Frank pressed into Fliss, rolling her onto her back. Her hands tangled in his hair and his hands had just begun sliding their way up her top when there was a loud bang on the door that made the pair of them jump from surprise.

“Expecting someone?” Frank looked at Fliss who shrugged as he heaved himself up and made his way to the entrance hall, puzzlement overtaking any annoyance he had at being interrupted. He opened the heavy oak door it to be greeted by a kind faced man bundled up in a snow jacket and a hat, holding a box in his hands.

“Good evening!” he beamed at Frank “I have a delivery for Frankie and Titch?” The man’s eyes twinkled as he read the label and Frank snorted, there were only two people that called Fliss Titch, her dad and brother. And, given the use of the name Frankie, he’d lay odds on this was from Steve.

“Yeah, that’s us.” He smiled, reaching out to take it.

“Excellent. Welcome to Moscow.” He nodded as Frank took it “I’m from the Stowe Mercantile, and on behalf of myself and my wife we hope you enjoy your gift hamper. Feel free to pay us a visit. We’re on the high street.”

“I’m sure we will, and thanks.” Frank smiled at him as the man gave him a cheery little wave goodbye and headed back down towards his truck. Frank carried the hamper back to the kitchen where Fliss was examining the fridge which had been stocked with a little ‘Welcome package’ of basics such as milk, butter, bread, orange juice along with some Green Mountain Coffee Roasters pods for the coffee machine which stood in a little jar on the side.

“What’s that?” she asked, turning as Frank placed the box on the counter.

“A Hamper.” He said, taking the card off the top and handing it to Fliss to open.

She snorted as she saw who it was a dressed to and turned it over. “Frankie and Fliss, have a treat on me, Sian and the boys. Enjoy your time away and make sure you actually get out of bed enough to explore…” she read, shaking her head.“Idiot…”

“An idiot with good taste.” Frank mumbled, pulling out the bottle of Moet which was nestled in the hamper. When they dug further they found a bottle of decent Rioja, a Sancerre, a large block of Cabot Cheddar Cheese, some savoury crackers, chutneys, olives, croissants, some candy, Lake Champlain Chocolate, chips, breadsticks and dips.

“Looks like we got snacks for a while.” Fliss mused.

“And Sam Adams.” Frank grinned, holding up the four-pack. They stowed it all away, before they then took their bags into the bedroom and after quickly unpacking and, after changing into warmer clothes, they headed out, Fliss keying in the zip-code for Smugglers Notch.

They chatted as they went, laughing and joking about anything and everything and just like any time spent with his girl, it seemed to pass in a flash and after what felt like five minutes, but was in fact twenty-eight, Frank pulled their rented vehicle into a spot and they both climbed out, hastily bundling up into jackets, hats and scarves. Frank couldn't resist pulling the front of Fliss' pink woollen hat down over her eyes, just as he has done in New York, and she shoved him in the chest, her hand rustling against the fabric of his faux-fur trimmed SuperDry jacket, causing him to step back a little. He laughed as she set her hat straight and the two of them headed through the main entrance, winding round the side to the main area of the resort which was seemingly packed with visitors and locals alike. "This takes me back." Frank commented, a little nostalgia flooding his tone as he looked around at the various groups of people milling around. Some carried skis, others snow boards as they wound down from a day’s activity on the slopes, whilst others were simply there like they were for a few drinks and the fireworks. "Something I never learned to do." Fliss leaned into him, her right hand clutching his left, her left hand curling round his arm, almost hugging it to her. "I was never allowed in case I broke something that put me out of action." "Do you wanna learn?" Frank asked. She pondered for a moment and smiled "I dunno, is it hard?' "I found boarding easier than skiing." He mused. "Some people are the opposite though. Not sure I’d be able to do either anymore." "Maybe we should bring the kids for a long weekend, have a go." Fliss mused before she grabbed his arm tighter “Oh my God, we should so go sand boarding back home.”

Frank laughed. “I did it once, me and the guys. Jake ended up in the ER with bust ankle.” He sighed fondly. “It was a great day.”

“Maybe I could strap a line to Cap and get him to pull me.” Fliss mused and Frank looked at her, shaking his head.

“Can you not?” he sighed. “You already scare the crap out of me when you jump those damned fences.”

“I’ve jumped higher.” She shrugged

“Yeah, well, that was before you met me.”

“We could use your truck then.”

“No, Lissy.” He rolled his eyes.

She chuckled “Spoil sport.

“Behave.”

They continued to walk, passed the little stalls and shops pausing at one to grab a hot chocolate and a bag of warm sugared donuts. They ate and drank their treats, sitting on one of the benches outside, and Frank had just taken the last drink of his chocolate before something caught his eye and he gave a little sigh, his smile growing bigger.

“Oh shit, sugar on snow.” He breathed out softly, watching a family of four walking past clutching trays of the treat.

“What?” Fliss looked at him blankly.

“You never heard of sugar on snow?”

“Is that like a snow cone?”

“Kinda.” He looked at her, his eyes shining “They serve it in some places in Boston but it’s never the same. It’s hot maple syrup, served over actual snow, not ice.”

“Seriously?” Fliss grinned at the boyish excitement on his face and he nodded.

“Some people call it leather aprons, on account of the fact it goes kinda leathery in texture.” He explained “It’s fucking awesome, Lissy, I haven’t had it since I was a kid. A situation I feel that I should rectify right away.”

“Okay, Sailor, lead the way.”

With a grin, Frank hopped up, grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the vendor where they joined the queue and soon reached the front. Frank ordered two, paid and then draped his arm over Fliss’ shoulder as they watched the guy serving fill two trays with scoops of powdery snow from a large chest behind them. He passed the trays to the man to his left who stirred a large, metal pot full of hot, Maple Syrup which he then ladled over the snow.

“You guys want the sides?” the server asked and Frank nodded.

“Hold the donut but I’ll take the pickle.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Fliss held her hand out and turned to Frank. “Hold the donut but you’ll take the pickle? What the hell?”

The man behind the counter chuckled as Frank shrugged. “Yeah, the pickle cuts through the sweetness.” She looked at him, her face utterly perplexed and he laughed. “You like pickle, and you ate far worse when you were pregnant.”

“I happen to think my cravings were positively normal, thank you. Apple juice and chili fries.”

“Lissy, you dipped your McDonald’s fries in milkshake.”

“Steve does that anyway.” She shrugged.

“That doesn’t make it normal.”

“Neither is eating pickle along with syrup!” she rolled her eyes.

“You don’t know shit.” Frank scoffed before he turned back to the server. “I’ll take the pickle.”

“I won’t.” Fliss shook her head.

The server nodded and slid one tray over the counter. Frank moved, thanking him as he handed it to Fliss, taking the other with his precious pickle on the side. Fliss took a spoon full, and made an appreciative noise, nodding as Frank did the same and immediately was hit with a flood of nostalgia as he could remember as it was yesterday the last time he’d had this. A family trip with his mother, Diane and Walter to a resort not far from here actually.

“Oh God.” Fliss’ voice was muffled and Frank turned to see her chewing and he laughed “You weren’t wrong about it being like leather.”

“It’s like taffy, but not.” He shrugged and with that he raised the pickle and took a huge crunch, grinning at her as he chewed. She gave a laugh again, shaking her head.

“That’s disgusting.”

“C’mere baby.” His voice was muffled on account his mouth was full of pickle, as he bent towards her and she laughed harder, shoving him away. He swallowed in between his chuckles, and pressed a kiss to the side of her head as they made their way over to where the majority of the crowd had gathered awaiting the fireworks.

They didn’t bother trying to push to the front, fireworks went up after all, and soon enough the music grew louder and someone spoke over the PA welcoming them all to the weekly fire work display. Leaving Fliss for a second to dispose of their empty snow containers in a nearby trash can, Frank returned and wrapped her arms around her from behind, pulling her back to his chest, dropping another soft kiss to her cheek. She smiled and leaned against him, happy for him to hold her and then the crowd let out a gasp as the first rocket flew into the air and burst into a huge bloom of gold and red.

The fireworks were spectacular. Screaming rockets, silent ones, crackling ones, ones that were colourful, ones less so, but what Frank was watching most of the time was Fliss’ face. Her mouth stayed in a constant smile for the full fifteen minute display, her eyes wide, the bright explosions reflected in those deep brown orbs as she followed the trail of lights against the clear, starry sky. The last time they’d all seen fireworks was a display held on the beach for the fourth of July last year, but Fliss was staring at them like she hadn’t seen any for years. Frank couldn’t be sure, but he had a sneaking suspicion she was lost in the romance of the situation, the pair of them being alone, on a cold evening, wrapped up surrounded by snow. With a smile he kissed her cheek again and tuned his attention back to the sky as the finale ramped up in a cacophony of colour, explosions and yells of awe from kids and adults alike in the crowd.

“Enjoy that?” Frank’s nose nuzzled at the spot behind Fliss’ ear and she smiled, tilting her head to look at him.

“Yeah, did you?”

“Absolutely.” He beamed. “It was awesome.”

“Took me back a few years” she grinned, turning to face him. “You ever heard of Bonfire Night in the UK?”

“Remember, remember the fifth of November.” He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, I think the last firework display I saw whilst wrapped up against the cold was Bonfire Night in 2011.” She mused. “Stanley Park in Liverpool. No snow though, just pissing down rain.” She took a deep breath “There’s just something magical about being all wrapped up whilst watching them.”

Frank smiled and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Anything else you wanna do?”

“Hot cider.” She nodded, and Frank grinned, his arm round her shoulder as they made their way back towards the drinks cabin.

An hour or so later, the little bar seemed to fill up almost all at once and both of them decided to call it a night. As they wandered back to the car, Frank gently kissed Fliss’ cheek as his arm curled around her shoulder and she smiled at him.

“You’ve been kissing me a lot tonight, Sailor.”

“I don’t ever intend on stopping.”

“Even when we’re married? I mean, isn’t that when all the romance is supposed to go to shit?”

“Only if you marry an asshole.” Frank spoke without thinking and then let out a little groan. “Fliss, I didn’t mean…”

“I know.” She said gently “I know you didn’t. Don’t worry.”

Frank bit his lip, cursing himself as they continued towards the car, before he sighed and shook his head. “You know, I’ll always be in awe of how you just deal with it, you know. Everything you went through and you came out the other side…and now…” "It wasn’t easy.” Fliss replied after a second or two, her hand gently playing with Frank's as his arm was draped over her shoulder. "Sometimes I don’t know how I did it. But, I do know one thing though." "What's that?" "I never thought I'd trust someone again enough to be…well, intimate with them, let alone fall completely and utterly head over heels in love." She took a deep breath before she leaned into Frank as his arm tightened around her. “And then you showed up that day with Mary and broke down every wall I'd put up, Adler. And you did it so damned quickly. I mean I don’t know why but there was something about you that made me know I could trust you straight away. And...oh I'm rambling on as usual." She waved a hand and Frank took a deep breath, pulling her closer. "It was the same for me you know.” He told her and she glanced up at him as they walked. "How so?" "The way Mary hugged you, the first time she met you. She’s never been that open with people. As we drove away that day she turned to me and said 'you like her'. Simple statement but I did. She was right."  Frank looked ahead as they rounded the corner to the parking lot "I knew from our first kiss on that boat that this was it for me. Everything I had no idea I needed and then some in this tiny little red-headed fire cracker." Fliss laughed and nudged him slightly and he grinned. "And you still gave me a chance. I mean there was the whole thing with Bonnie." Frank took a deep breath. "And I wasn't the easiest person to be around when the court case was going on." "No, you weren't." Fliss agreed. “But you were going through a tough time. Even if I hadn't had feelings for you that way, I'd have been by your side regardless. You know, that right?" Frank stopped by the side of their rented car and turned to face her, taking both her hands in his "Yeah, I do. Because, well, because you’re fucking amazing. You're just the most gorgeous person inside and out, Lissy, and every damned day I wake up next to you and wonder how I got so fucking lucky." "Frank!" Fliss gave a little sniff as her eyes filled with tears and he smiled, his hand gently cupping her face as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was slow, deep and loaded with feeling, Fliss' hands dropping to his waist, her fingers curling around the cold material of his jacket as she let herself go, losing herself in the romance of the moment as they stood in the parking lot at the base of the mountain, surrounded by snow. When they finally broke apart, Frank pressed his forehead to hers, smiling softly. "Come on, let’s go before we freeze to death." Fliss laughed, "Not much chance of that with you to keep me warm." Frank narrowed his eyes. "Is that a fat joke?" At that she laughed harder. “Absolutely not." Her hands squeezed his slim hips and she blinked up at him, knowing just how sensitive he was getting to the fact that, thanks to him now being effectively behind a desk all day, he was having to work harder at keeping in shape. He'd picked up running at the start of the year and was now also using the weights he had in the workshop area of the garage to keep himself as toned as he could. But to Fliss it didn't matter a jot. He was perfect to her. "But just so you know, if you do put on weight, it just means there's more of you for me to love."

******

Once back home they debated hitting the hot tub for an hour but they were both tired from the early start so settled instead for a cozy drink in front of the fire in the living room. After checking in at home, speaking to Verity and Mary, Verity assuring them that both kids were fine, Fliss headed for a shower as Frank checked a few emails from work on his phone as he lay on the bed. When she walked back into the room he hopped up, gave her another deep kiss before he headed off, jumping a little as she slapped his ass as he passed. He gave her a smirk over his shoulder as he wandered barefoot down the hall and into the bathroom.

Once showered he dressed in a pair of grey sweats and a plain white t-shirt before he headed into the living room to find Fliss in a pair of dark green plaid flannel sleep pants and a hooded top, her hair piled on top of her head as she sat in front of the fire, a glass of red win in her hand, simply watching the flames.

“You okay, honey?” he asked and she turned to look up at him, smiling.

“Yeah, it’s just been a while before I sat in front of a fire in the evening.” She said as he dropped a hand to the back of her head. She pat the rug besides him and grinned “Pull up a seat, Sailor.”

“Let me grab a drink and I’ll be with you.”

“Way ahead of you, Francis.” With a grin she gestured to the table behind her and Frank chuckled as he saw the bottle of red wine perched in the middle along with an empty glass waiting for him. He poured himself a helping, topped her glass up and then with a little groan he settled onto the floor, his back resting against the coffee table, legs spread to allow Fliss to shuffle back against him, her chest resting against his back.

“You had a good evening?” She asked, turning her face to look at him.

“The best, thank you.” He smiled, kissing her softly. With a contented sigh she leaned her head back against his shoulder.

“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I was with you, how could I not?” Frank’s hand traced up the outside of her arm, lips brushing the top of her head as she leaned back a little more, her back resting fully against his chest. They sat in silence for a little while, enjoying the relative peace that wasn’t so forthcoming at home with two kids and busy jobs. The last few days had been particularly manic, Fliss pushing full steam ahead with the plans for the expansion had meant they’d had a few late evening consultations with Bill and the architect Steve had recommended as they discussed the best options. Then there had been Tuesday, when Fliss had called him in a flap as her jeep had broken down outside the store for the third time in as many weeks.

“Have you decided about your car yet?” Frank asked what was on his mind and Fliss shook her head.

“No.” She sighed “Can you not fix her?”

“I keep fixing her.” He replied “But, it’s only a matter of time before the damned thing gives up for good. Why don’t you look at one of the Audi’s you like? We don’t need two huge cars. I got the truck so...”

“Maybe. I want to get the wedding paid for first.”

“We don’t have much left to pay.” Frank reasoned. “The Banquet tent and food trucks are settled up. We just have the bar and the entertainment to sort really.”

“Decorations, dance floor hire, oh, and photographer.” Fliss mused “Although Bonnie said her sister’s husband is a pretty good amateur one. I might ask her for his number.”

“Sounds good.” Frank dropped another kiss to her head.

“Oh, and we should probably sort the invitations.”

“Yeah, that…” Frank chuckled, “that’s pretty key I suppose.”

“I thought…” Fliss tipped her head to face him, “I thought it would be nice if we wrote the invitations from Mary and Alex. You know, like it’s usually Mrs and Mrs Parents-Of-The-Bride request your presence bla bla bla…I’d like to ask Mary to suggest something.”

Frank smiled, his head cocking to one side slightly. “I think she’ll love that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, shifting so he could take another sip of his wine, which was exceptionally good and going down pretty damned well. “She’s as excited about the wedding as we are. Probably a little more actually.”

“Speak for yourself.” Fliss snorted, swallowing a mouthful of her drink “I can’t wait.”

“I didn’t mean that.” Frank rolled his eyes as Fliss laughed and she gently titled herd head round to look at him and reached up, scratching her nails of her left hand into his beard.

“I know Sailor, keep your hair on.”

“You know I can’t wait to make you Mrs Adler.”  Frank told her, dropping his head to catch her lips in a soft kiss. Fliss smiled as he pressed his head to hers, their noses bumping slightly before she moved and settled back into the position she had been in before, the back of her head once more resting against Frank’s chest.

“You know, I have a funny feeling Dad’s gonna give us a check towards it anyway.” She took a deep breath “He paid for Steve’s wedding, well, half. Sian’s parents paid the other.”

Frank shifted a little, “You think?”

Fliss shrugged “I don’t know. He’s never given anything to one of us and not the other so. He didn’t give a penny towards…” she trailed off and took a deep breath.

“That’s probably because you were marrying a cunt.” Frank shrugged and Fliss scoffed, shaking her head before she let out a little sigh and then Frank saw her shoulders sag a little, one hand running round the top of her wine glass as the other clutched the stem.

“I sometimes wonder how I got it so wrong you know? Like how I ever fell for him in the first place.”

“Hey.” Frank gently pulled her to him a little more, “Don’t do this, not tonight. None of that was your fault.”

“I know, but…”

“No buts, Lissy.” Frank shook his head, his tone a little stern. “He was an abusive piece of shit. Don’t go there, not tonight.”

Her head dropped and Frank took a deep breath, before he reached out and gently plucked the wine glass from her hand, setting it on the coffee table he was leaning against along with his own.

“Baby, look at me.” He instructed gently. After a seconds pause she knelt up and turned around, sitting back on her heels as she looked at him, large brown eyes dancing in the firelight, full of a melancholy that wasn’t quite sadness, but still enough to tear his gut apart at the fact she could still be so self-doubting. “Sorry I snapped and I’m sorry for bringing him up, again.” Frank looked at her, his hand gently brushing her hair back off her face. “I didn’t mean to.”

She looked at him for a second before she shuffled forwards a little and Frank dropped his legs flat so she could straddle his thighs, his large hands falling to her hips as she gently smoothed her hands up his ribbed T-shirt, her eyes following her fingers.

“You know, it’s kinda funny really” she spoke softly, her fingers still trailing his chest.

“What is?”

“Life, when you think about it. I mean, what I went through was shitty. What happened to you and Mary, you know with Diane was shitty.” Fliss took a deep breath, her hands pausing, palms flattening over his pecs. “But if it hadn’t happened, we would never have met. We’d never have had Alex.”

“True.” Frank breathed out as her eyes flicked up and locked onto his as he gave a small smile. “Is this where you tell me it was fate?”

“Maybe.” Fliss shrugged, before she raised an eyebrow. “Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like.”

“Lemony Snicket?” Frank chuckled his question and Fliss grinned, nodding.

“Mary was reading it the other day.”

“Well I’m glad to know I’m one of the things you do like” Frank arched an eyebrow. “Okay, if we’re dropping quotes, how about this one. Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.”

Fliss pondered for a second, shrugging. “I like it but, no idea who said it.”

“Marcus Aurelius.” Frank informed her.

“Ok, Professor.” she sassed, her hands now curling over his shoulders, and Frank laughed, “Now tell me who said this. You often meet your fate on the road you take to avoid it.”

“Oooh.” Frank pondered, “That almost sounds Shakespearean?”

“Close.” Fliss grinned “Goldie Hawn”

“Fahk off!” Frank tipped his head back, chest vibrating as his familiar laughter filled the room and Fliss snickered a little bit. He looked back at his girl as his chuckles subsided, saying nothing for a moment, simply studying her pretty face. Her eyes were full of warmth as she curled her hands round his shoulders before one moved to the back of his neck, her nails gently grazing at the skin below his hair line. He gave a sigh, his mouth curling up into a soft smile “I love you so fahkin much Cowgirl.”

“Love you too, Sailor.” She replied, her voice quiet, before she shuffled even closer, her head dipping to his.

The kiss was soft, gentle, Frank’s hands moving to her back, under the hoody she was wearing, splaying against her skin as he held her close to him. He felt Fliss shift a little, her hands dancing downwards, gripping the hem of his Tee. He moved back slightly, allowing her to pull it off, mimicking her actions by dragging her top over her head, along with the camisole she had on under it, before he gently lay her down on the rug in front of the fire place. He shimmied out of his sweats, before he dragged Fliss’ pyjama pants down her legs, leaving them both completely naked, and he gently grasped her right ankle in his hand. He kissed his way up her smooth leg, his mouth hot and wet, short beard scratching against her skin. He continued mapping his way up her body with his mouth, and when he reached her breasts, Fliss arched her back, letting out a soft groan as his mouth gently sucked on one nipple, his hand tweaking at the other.

“Look at you.” He whispered gently against her skin as his tongue continued teasing her, worshipping her with his mouth, the way she deserved. His beautiful Lissy, his girl, so fucking precious it was beyond comprehension to him how anyone could have ever wanted to hurt her. The mere thought was abhorrent and he screwed his eyes up as he felt the tears rushing forwards as he fought the image from his head, and he swallowed, his mouth pausing a little against her breast as he took a shuddering breath.

“Frankie.” She whispered his name, and he opened his eyes to look up at her, her hands moving to cup his face and he pushed himself upwards, as his lips crashed to hers in a desperate, needy kiss. His tongue traced the inside of her mouth as her hands tangled in his hair and she let out a little whimper, tipping her hips up to meet his and the feel of her press against him made him groan, breaking the kiss. Her head fell back, bearing her neck to him and Frank shifted, taking his weight on his palms, caging her between his arms and legs as he pressed soft kisses up her throat.

Fliss felt the warmth in her belly mounting, that familiar ache between her legs was becoming more and more intense, to the point it was almost unbearable. She needed relief, and she wasn’t above begging. “Please, Frank,” she croaked out, her breath coming in deep, ragged pants as her hands dug into his broad back, “I need you.”

“Oh, baby, you got me. Always.”  Frank’s breath was hot on her ear, as he gave that spot on her neck a little nip, dropping to his elbows. His hands snaked up both her arms pulling them from round his back, the points where her nails had been biting into his skin still stinging slightly. He laced his fingers with hers, pressing her hands down at either side of her head as he moved, Fliss shifting underneath him and with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips he sank into her, his head dropping slightly as she fluttered around him, the sound she made almost enough to make him blow there and then.

The feeling of relief at having him inside her caused Fliss’ chest to hitch and her eyes closed momentarily, before she took a shuddering breath as Frank began to slowly roll his hips against hers, each thrust deep, measured, deliberate as he dragged himself against languidly in and out of her. She opened her eyes to see him watching her face intently as her eyes locked onto his, the pupils of those baby blues she loved were blown with desire.

“Frank, you feel so good,” she moaned and he let out a groan of his own at her words, keeping his movements steady, almost leisurely as he continued to watch, her mouth slackening, breathing quickening as he knew she was approaching her peak. When her orgasm rolled over her, she gave a loud cry and melted underneath him,  her nails digging into the skin beneath his knuckles as he picked up the pace, rutting into her a little faster, desperate for his own relief. It didn’t take him long at all, and he felt his stomach tightening and with a hiss and a loud “Fahk” he came with a final deep thrust, his fingers tightening around hers before he collapsed forward, burying his head against her neck.

A quiet bliss, surrounded them like a bubble, keeping them safe from the world, as the room was silent bar the sound of their deep breathing and the crackling of fire as they lay tangled with one another. Fliss’ extracted her hands from his to gently rake one through the back of his hair, the other trailed lightly over the back of his shoulder blades and Frank gave a soft hum of contentment, his eyes closing as they lay still, neither of them wanting to move. Fliss pressed a soft kiss to his warm, clammy forehead and Frank rolled over onto his back with a little sigh, pulling her with him so that she was draped over his chest as he lay between her and the coffee table.

“Can we just stay here?” Fliss asked quietly, and Frank glanced down at her as she pressed her cheek to his chest.

“Whatever you want, Honey.” He agreed, his head looking around before he spotted the blanket on the sofa “Just sit up a moment.”

“Frank!” she whined and he laughed, pushing himself up and jostling her off his chest. “Asshole.”

“I just loved on you well, in front of the fire, and that’s the thanks I get?” Frank hopped up. “Being called an asshole?”

Fliss grinned as she propped herself up on her elbow and watched him, scanning up his legs and strong thighs, taking in his bare ass before she followed his back muscles to those broad shoulders which rippled slightly as he reached over to grab the tartan throw. He turned back to face her and she grinned as his eyes blatantly roved over her in the same way as she lay side on, completely naked, her hair falling over her shoulders.

“You should look like that all the time.” He remarked as he dropped back down and gently wrapped them both in the blanket. “Freshly fucked and naked.”

“Yeah, not so easy when you’ve got a 10 year old and a 7 month old to look after.” She chuckled as she lay her head on his chest. His hand gently carded through her hair and he sighed.

“True.” he looked down at her as she glanced up at him, her chin resting on his chest “But we got a coupla days without them. Maybe I’ll just keep you like this for the duration.”

“Fine by me Sailor. There’s only one slight problem.”

“What’s that?”

“You keep me here, no Ben and Jerry’s on Saturday.”

“That is a dilemma indeed.” Frank mused, “Okay, maybe Saturday I’ll let you out.”

“Good to know where I feature on your list of priorities.” Fliss scoffed and Frank chuckled.

“You can have a lot of fun with ice cream cowgirl.” He smirked, dropping a kiss to her head.

  ***** Frank woke the next morning feeling thoroughly relaxed. He stretched a little where he was lay on his stomach, arms folded under his pillow and raised his head, turning to look at Fliss. She was lay on her back, facing towards him, one arm bent by her head, the other across her chest. She looked so peaceful, her mouth open just a smidge, hair splaying over the pillow. He shifted onto his side, and moved closer to her, pressing a soft kiss to forehead, trailing his lips down her nose to her mouth.

She gave a little sigh, her eyelids fluttering as he kissed her again and he felt her smile, lazily against his mouth.

“Morning, Honey.” He said gently and she gave a little hum of contentment, her sleepy eyes opening to look at him.

“Morning, handsome.” She smiled as he pushed himself up a little to give her a deep kiss, hovering the top half of his body over her slightly. The kiss became soft touches, which led to more urgent touches, and soon he was buried inside of her, his movements lazy as he made love to her, their bodies pressed together as close as could be.

It set the tone for the remainder of the morning, nothing urgent or pressing to do. The time was theirs and theirs alone. After showers they ate breakfast and checked in with the kids before they bundled up and took a short walk into the little town centre, taking a peek in the shops, making a few purchases before they had lunch and then headed back to their cottage. Frank walked up the steps on the porch to unlock the door, and he had just turned round to look at Fliss when he was hit square on the chest with a snowball. He paused, watching as the icy glob slid down the front of his coat and he glanced up to see Fliss stood at the bottom of the steps, laughing.

“Good shot.” He arched an eyebrow.

“Not really, I was aiming for your face.” she tipped her head back, laughing harder as he blinked.

“My face.” he blinked as she nodded. “Oh, Sweetheart, you’re gonna be sorry!”

Her laughter died down as he began to stalk towards her, his pace slow and she stepped back a little before she gave a playful shriek and set off running as best she could in the deep snowfall. Frank dipped down, grabbing a handful of the snow which he rolled into a ball and sent it flying where it hit her right in between her shoulder blades. She screamed, punctuated by more laughter as she bent down and scooped up some more, turning to fling it at him. Frank raised his arm to block it and it exploded on the sleeve of his jacket, and at that he shot forward. She began to back away and just as he reached her she stumbled and flailed backwards. Frank caught her, and pitched them round, the momentum sending them both crashing into the soft snow, Fliss landing with a thud on top of him.

The pair of them were laughing that hard, neither could breathe properly, but Frank somehow managed to gain enough control to grab a scoop of the powdery snow and shove it straight down the back of her coat.

“Oh my god, you asshole!” she shrieked as she felt the cold liquid dribble down her back. “Fuck, shit!”

“I warned you yesterday about startin’ things you can’t finish!” he laughed as she shook her head, shivering.

“Well, I like to live dangerously.” Her laughter subsided and she bent down to give him a soft kiss, her cold, slightly red nose brushing against his. “Ever had sex in the snow?”

He laughed. “Can’t say I have, although I’m not sure I’d be able to. It’s that cold my balls have retreated into my stomach.”

She broke into another fit of giggles before Frank pushed himself up onto his elbows, jolting her slightly and together they got to their feet and headed inside to warm up. After a change into dry clothes and a hot chocolate each, Frank went out to set the car running so it would be warm for their grip out to New Hampshire. Fliss packed a bags with snacks for the trip and at little after three in the afternoon they set off.

There was plenty to see on the way, the landscape was breath-taking, Fliss’ eyes bright as she took it all in, Frank smiling at the joy on her face.  About an hour into the journey, Frank felt Fliss’ eyes watching his profile as he drove so he arched an eyebrow slightly, sneaking a glance at her.

"What?"

"Nothing just,” she reached out to gently twine her hand in his hair, “never noticed before but you're getting a few grey-" "Fucking fuck you." He shot, jerking his head away from her hands as she laughed, her head falling back against the head rest of the seat. "So angry, Adler." "Angry Adler?" Frank arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like some kind of poisonous snake." "You got a snake but it aint poisonous." Fliss grinned and Frank snorted. "Flattery will not detract from the fact you just called me old." "That’s not what I said." Fliss shook her head. "I merely commented on the fact your hair is...: "Going grey, ergo pertaining to the fact I'm getting old!" Fliss shrugged. “I’m kinda down for the silver fox look." "Silver fox?" Frank laughed, looking at her. "That what I am?" "Not yet." Fliss shrugged before she grinned and turned to him. “At the moment you're just a D-B DILF" Frank let out a little laugh, shaking his head. "Let me guess. A Dirty Boat Daddy you like to fuck?" "Damned straight" Fliss smirked, her fingers lacing through his.

Once they arrived they followed the direction from the parking attendant and climbed out, wrapping themselves up before Frank took Fliss’ hand and they headed over to join the queue for their time slot.

“Wow.” Frank heard Fliss breathe out as she got a look at the huge structure that loomed in front of them. Frank smiled, it had been years and years since he’d been here.

“Wait till it goes dark.” He smiled, “It’s something else.”

It didn’t take them too long to get inside, and Frank watched Fliss eyes grow wide with awe as she spotted the huge towers which were dripping with molten-looking ice as they walked through the huge cavernous opening. As per Jake’s recommendation they headed straight for the slide. The line to get on was already huge, but both of them were adamant they wanted to go on it so they waited patiently, Frank chatting to Fliss and giving her a little bit of factual history about how the castles were made. Eventually they reached the front of the line some forty minutes later, and the attendant there asked if they wanted to go down together, which of course they did. Frank hopped down first, Fliss settling between his legs and he gripped her hips, leaning forward.

“Ready?”

“Just push off already, Sailor!” she laughed, and with a snort he sent them sliding down the glassy sheet of ice. Fliss laughed as they sped down the chute, the twists and turns jolting them slightly. It wasn’t as smooth as he expected and when they hit a particularly bout of bumpy rivets, Fliss letting out a squeal, Frank was glad he had a padded coat under his ass or his tail bone would have been protesting. Their slide was over after little more than thirty seconds, and whilst it might have been a ridiculous amount of time to queue for half a minute or so of fun, Frank had to admit as they slowed to a stop at the end, that sliding through an Ice Castle with his girl in front of him, was a pretty awesome experience that he’d queue for all over again.

Together they made their way off to the side and had just set off to explore when suddenly the Castle lit up inside with thousands of LED coloured lights. Fliss mouth dropped open as the opening bars to ‘Let It Go’ from Frozen started to play and the lights followed some form of choreographed routine to the music. They stopped to watch, just like everyone else seemed to have done and when it was over, most people started to clap and cheer.

“Does that happen again?” Fliss looked at Frank as they began to walk through to a smaller room. “The light show?”

“I think so.” He nodded. “From what I remember it does it periodically.”

As they walked through the Castle exploring, it felt like around every corner there were hidden surprises. They found ice sculptures of animals and birds, tunnels which led into smaller caverns with spectacular icicle details hanging above from the ceilings, ice thrones, glowing ice orbs and even a fountain. Fliss took as many photos as she could, even accosting some random guy to take a shot of them together in one of the smaller rooms they found.

After an hour or so they were confident they’d seen everything there was to see so they made their way back to the entrance, Fliss’ arm looped through Frank’s as they strolled over to one of the temporary wooden shacks set up which was serving hot drinks and snacks. They both took a hot cider each and headed to a little table, sitting down.

“The kids would love it in there.” Fliss smiled, taking a sip.

“I was just thinking that.” Frank nodded. “I’m definitely sold on a family winter weekend away.”

“Maybe next year.” She mused. “I mean we can’t this year, what with the wedding and then Disney.”

“Yeah, yeah we do.” Frank smiled. A week to Disney with the kids was what they had settled on as a sort of honeymoon, but post that he had a little something else up his sleeve, something that she was going to have no idea about until it was time for them to go.

“I can’t wait to see Mary’s face when we tell her we’re all going to the house of the mouse.” She grinned

“Yeah, she’ll be almost as excited as you.” Frank raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I’m a huge kid at heart.”

“No shit.” He replied and she laughed.

“Oh don’t act like you aint. I heard you giggling away in there when we were on that slide.”

“Well…” He leaned over the table, smiling slightly. “You bring out my inner child, what can I say?”

Fliss grinned and leaned over to give him a soft kiss before she pulled back and smiled, giving a sigh. “Suppose we should head back, it’s getting a little late.”

Frank was loathe to concede she was right. They finished their drinks and headed back to the car, Fliss taking a fond look back at the Ice Castle before climbing into the car. By the time they got back, the pair of them were starving, so the hot tub went another night without use as they made a very good sized dent into the Hamper that Steve had sent them. Once they’d  drunk another few glasses of wine they collapsed into bed with full bellies, snuggled together, falling into a comfortable and deep sleep.

***** Fliss woke the next morning before Frank and so she gently kissed his cheek, slipped from the sheets and pulled his hoody over her top as it was a little chilly. She turned up the thermostat and then headed into the kitchen to make a coffee before she settled in the little living room with her book. But she couldn’t concentrate. Her mind was wandering to the kids and she was feeling a little lost now without them. She hadn’t been apart from Alex for more than a night before, and she couldn’t help but miss him, and Mary too.

With a deep sigh she turned the TV on, flicking through the channels and little over half an hour later, Frank padded in, his hair all over the place as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

“You’re up early.” He said, flopping down next to her, giving her a quick peck.

“I know.” She shrugged. “Think I’m just used to being up early with the kids.” Frank yawned, stretching his legs out, feet resting on the edge of the coffee table as Fliss nestled into him. “Is it wrong that I miss them?”

“No.” Frank gently rubbed his hand up her arm as she gave a little sniffle, pressing her face into his t-shirt. “I miss them being here too. Don’t get upset, Honey.”

“I’m sorry, this is pathetic.”

“It’s not. But uou know what is?” Frank looked down at her, wiping her tears gently. “How excited this thirty-nine year old is about going to an ice cream factory.” At that Fliss spluttered a soft laugh and Frank smiled. “The kids will be fine, Alex is too young to even know we’re gone and, well, Mary won’t care. Not with your mom, dad and Steve fussing over her.”

“I know.”

“You know I’m right or that I’m pathetic?”

“Both.” She smiled up at him and Frank gave a little snort.

After a lazy breakfast they headed into town again for another little walk, Frank skipping lunch so he could eat as much ice cream as humanly possible. Then they made the short drive to Waterbury, the brightly coloured Ice Cream factory making Frank grin like a child as they pulled into a parking space.

“You now, this is basically my childhood dream.” He grinned at Fliss as they climbed out of the car and she rolled her eyes, chuckling to herself.

“Low aspirations there, Sailor!”

He shrugged and they headed inside, Fliss handing her reservation number over to the assistant and they were directed down to the lobby. As they walked, they took in the artwork that adorned the walls detailing the history of the company, which made for an interesting browse. But as soon as they crossed the threshold of the lobby, it was the smell that got them both. It was sweet, notes of vanilla and sugar making them both smile. Whilst they waited in line for their tour to start, they scanned the flavor map that was on the wall, both pointing at various places, and then a bell rang.

“Good afternoon!” A cheery voice spoke and they both turned to the front to see a man stood on a little box, seemingly having appeared from nowhere. “My name is Ben, yes, that is my real name but sadly, no, I’m not the Ben.” A few chuckles rang out. “I’m merely a tour-guide, your tour-guide for the next hour or so in fact. But, before we start I need to tell you a couple of the usual boring housekeeping rules…”

Ben, not the Ben, ran through the usual emergency protocols and stuff, before he clapped his hands together and smiled.

“So, the first stop is the theatre room where you’ll watch a short video on the creation and mission of Ben & Jerry's. No one does ice cream better than BJ. And, as I’m sure most of you will know, BJs come in all sorts of flavours and rarely fail to satisfy.”

At that Frank gave a snort along with a couple of other adults on the tour at the innuendo and Fliss nudged him, grinning at his dirty mind.

“We have a worldwide reputation for excellence, quality, and flavors that are, quite frankly, unparalleled by any other ice cream maker in the world.” The tour guide continued. “Right here, in the town of Waterbury, the Ben & Jerry's factory has been operating since 1985 and it continues to create just as many delicious ice cream flavors as it did when it first opened.” He smiled “Right, so if you would follow me, I’ll take you through. The film is only about five minutes long or so but quality over quantity and after that then the fun really begins.”

A door to their right swung open and the group headed inside, Frank and Fliss taking seats at the back. The lights dimmed and a colourful cartoon began to show, running over the history of the company. Frank, being an avid fan, already knew most of it but to Fliss it was a nice bit of background information.

The little film finished and the lights flicked on again and Ben once more appeared at the front.

“So, now you have the scoop on Ben & Jerry’s…” He began and a few people, including Frank, groaned at the pun and the man held up an apologetic hand. “Yes, I know and I’m sorry to say you’re gonna hear more awful puns as we go along. In fact my legen-dairy puns are actively cone-doned here.”

Frank let out a chuckle as did Fliss.

“Ok, without further ado, let’s go!” The tour guide smiled.

Following in the middle of the group, Frank and Fliss were led into the main factory area where they were able to peer through a glass overlook and look down on the operation below. The ice cream-making process was ongoing and the tour guide began to identify various points of the production process. Frank watched the workers down below, operating the various pieces of equipment, fascinated by it all. They were there for about twenty minutes or so as the manufacturing process was explained, and then they were led to the room which was the one Frank was dying to see- The Flavour-Building room.

Simply put, he was in an ice-cream lover’s heaven. As they walked around they soaked in all the information about where they got the ideas from, the Public engagement and market research process and how they offered opportunities for people to become testers, which Frank made a note of vowing to put in his application. They were then given a sample of a new flavour that hadn’t yet been released, a banana and chocolate one that Fliss pulled a face at but Frank really liked. Neither could deny, however, that there was something truly special about actually trying the ice cream straight from the source. Whilst the pints you could get from the store were incredible, trying fresh ice cream from the factory was nothing short of perfection.

“I’m afraid, Ladies and Gents that we are at the end of the tour. Short, and sweet, yes, pun very much intended, but whilst the guided tour ends here, your Ben & Jerry’s experience doesn’t have to.” Ben grinned. “Our gift-shop should provide you with ample opportunity to browse and buy any souvenirs, and then, why not head down to our Flavor Graveyard to mourn the passing of our dearly de-pinted ice cream flavors. You can also take a vote on your way out as to which one of our offered de-pinted flavours you would like to resurrect.”

After thanking him on their way out of the room, Frank and Fliss wandered round the gift shop and bought a couple of things, and then made their way back outside into the bitter air, walking over to the graveyard. They chuckled at a few of the tomb stones, Fliss pointing out that some of them sounded pretty nice, until she stopped dead at one and cocked her head to one side.

“Peanut Butter and Jelly. Peanut Butter Ice Cream with Peanut Butter Bits and Strawberry Jelly Swirl1 1989-1990” she read and Frank gave a groan of nostalgia as she continued to read the epitaph underneath “An unbeatable duo! Yet somehow it managed to flop in a cone, so we stuck to the sammich.”

“God I loved that as a kid!” Frank sighed. “Dad used to always come home with a pint of it on a Friday. It was gone by Saturday morning. Me and Diane used to fight him for it.”  He took a deep breath before nodding firmly. “That’s the one I’m voting to have resurrected. You also need to vote for it.”

“Isn’t voting supposed to be done in secret?” Fliss looked at him as he dropped his arm round her shoulder and they made their way back towards the main area of the buildings.

“True, but I won’t tell if you won’t.” He grinned. “Now, can we go and eat some ice cream? That mouthful in there was nowhere near enough to satisfy me.”

“Whatever you want, Sailor.” She chuckled as she leaned into him a little, smiling. “Whatever you want.”

*****

Whatever he wanted turned out to be about twenty bucks worth of ice cream sundaes complete with every topping imaginable, so by the time they walked back to the cottage after a few drinks in one of the local breweries, Frank was well and truly ready to fat float in the tub thanks to the combination of beer and ice cream in his stomach.

They called back home, Fliss smiling as Alex sat on Bill’s knee, making a grabbing hand at the screen of the phone, Mary chatting away telling them all about how Steve had taken her, Charlie and Joel out to the Zoo for the day. By the time they were done it was pushing seven pm so they both changed, Fliss heading out to the tub with the fluffy guest towels, whilst Frank followed a little while later with the bottle of champagne that had been in the fridge along with a couple of beers for himself. He popped the cork, poured Fliss a glass and then placed the bottle down by the side of the tub next to his spare beers, quipping that given the temperature outside he knew there was no need for an ice bucket.

They sat and watched the moonlight reflecting off the snow of the mountain back drop, simply drinking and chatting, and before they knew it an hour had passed and they had somehow gotten onto the subject of that year’s elections, having seen the first drabbles of news about the rumoured Democrat candidates. When Fliss commented to Frank that she had a horrible suspicion Trump would get re-elected, Frank groaned and slid under the water, pretending to drown himself. When he emerged, he shook his head in the manner of a dog and Fliss chuckled.

“So, if you were president what would be the first thing you'd do, Sailor?” she asked, stretching out her legs along the bench she was sat on, her feet laying flat just to the side of Frank’s right thigh.

“Make being Donald Trump a crime punishable by death.” Frank shot back and Fliss let out a loud laugh.

“That's a little over the top.”

“So is his tan.” Frank shrugged and Fliss snorted again. “What about you?”

Fliss pondered “I’d make three day weekends the law.”

At that Frank looked at her, scoffing. “You work for yourself, you could have a three day weekend if you wanted one.”

“But I don’t.”

“So why would you make it the law then?” he laughed.

“Because I’m thinking of other people.”

“Socialism.” Frank nodded, “Good call.”

Fliss grinned. “And I’d also make it a legal requirement for you to be Professor Adler more often.”

“Assistant Professor.”

“Details.” Fliss waved her hand.

“And what do you mean, more often?” He cocked his head to one side “I’ve never been a Professor in the entire time you’ve known me.”

“You talk like one.”

“No I don’t”

“You so do.” Fliss smirked. “When you’re helping Mary with her homework, debates, the other day on the flight over…”

“Okay, maybe some times, but not much.”

“You should do it more. It’s kinda hot.”

"Is this some kind of strange authority kink? You know, to go along with the grease monkey one?"

Fliss let out a groan "Professor Adler in a shirt with rolled up sleeves and dirty arms and face..." she bit her lip and Frank let out a loud snort as he shook his head.

"You have a problem."

"Yeah, a big one. In that now I can't get that fucking image out of my head.” She cocked her head to one side as Frank laughed. “Hey, did you ever fuck any of your students? You know, favours for extra credit?"

Frank choked on the mouthful of beer he had just taken. "You’re a dick"

"I'll take that as a no then."

"No I didn't. Because that would have been a gross abuse of power."

“So not because you didn’t want to?”

“Fucking hell, Fliss!” he shook his head, before he smirked "I might have had you been one of them. Especially if your mouth was a smart back then as it is now."

"You've never complained about my smart mouth before." She teased.

"That's because you put it to good use." Frank looked at her, his eyes darkening "Had you used it to sass me like you do, in one of my lectures, I'd have been pissed"

"How pissed?" She asked, her leg dropping off the ledge she was sat on, foot trailing up the inside of his calf.

"Seriously pissed."

"Yeah?" Her foot stopped at his thigh and his hand reached under the water, gently grabbing her ankle. He shifted a little, the tightness in his swim-shorts a good indication about how he was finding this much more of a turn on than he should, and levelled her with a stern look. He saw her chest hitch a little and he arched an eyebrow.

"You're in danger of finding out if you carry on." He all but growled.

Fliss bit her lip before she shifted and pulled her leg from his grasp before she moved over the tub, glass in her hand as she straddled him. "Know what I am very good at finishing?"

"What?" Frank swallowed, the feel of her in his lap was doing nothing to help his little situation so to speak.

"Champagne." She smirked, raising the glass to her lips as she tossed the rest of the white down her throat. Frank let out a groan of a chuckle as she laughed, gently kissing his cheek. "Sadly, that was the last of it. Shall I open that final bottle of red wine?”

"Sure, I'm all gassed out from beer." Frank nodded, draining his bottle. “I’ll get it, sweetheart.”

"Its fine. I need to pee anyway.”  Fliss moved to stand up, giving a little squeal, ducking back down under the water. “Fuck its cold."

"Kinda happened when you're in a mountain resort surrounded by snow."

"Asshole" she rolled her eyes before she stood up again, giving Frank an eyeful of the front of her body. Her arms and shoulders were ridiculously defined thanks to her riding and physical job, her large breasts were swelling over the top of the green bikini top she was wearing which sported a large knot at the front, the bottoms slung low on her hips as the decorative buckle sat over her reasonably flat but soft stomach, the faded, silvery stretch marks which were just about visible as they glistened with water, a reminder of how she'd carried, given birth and nurtured his son.

She was a marvel, and as he looked her up and down she flushed a little, the way she always did when he was blatantly ogling her and he shrugged. With a coy glance over her shoulder she climbed up the steps to the tub to hop out and Frank then got an eyeful of her firm ass and stupidly toned legs as she wrapped herself in a towel and headed quickly across the decking to the door that led into the kitchen area.

Frank leaned back in the arm water with a sigh as she disappeared from sight, contemplating not for the first time, just how much his life had changed since she had walked into it. He had no doubt in his mind she’d sent him along a completely different path, a far better path, despite the little bumps along the way. Her family had welcomed him and Mary with open arms, and right from the start had treat them both like they were their own. She’d encouraged his reconciliation with his mother, embraced and positively enjoyed the birth of their son despite the fact he knew full well some people had shitty comments about how soon and fast that had all come around with them being together just over a year. But time didn’t mean shit to him, as he’d said the other night, he’d known since that first kiss they’d had on the borrowed boat that if he never held another woman in his arms in his life he’d die a happy man.

But it wasn’t just him that had changed. Fliss had become far more confident and assure in herself as she had settled into a relationship that she felt safe and comfortable in. She still had her little moments and there were so many things they had never actually experienced together that she had tentative memories of, but they worked through them. Even when they argued, in a twisted way it made Frank feel almost pleased that she felt safe enough with him to call him out on his bullshit or stand her ground, even if she was wrong, without fear of getting a beating in retaliation. She’d opened herself to him intimately as well, in ways she’d admitted she’d been scared of because she’d had nothing but brutal or rough memories.

Suddenly his mind flew back to that evening on the boat in their garage a few weeks ago, when he’d pushed her just that little bit further and been pretty rough with her, remembering how he’d fucked her from behind as she leant over the bench at the back. God, that had been incredible.

And now his little problem was a pretty large one as he was rock hard. He slipped his hand down under the water, in an attempt to try and make himself feel a little more comfortable but it was no use. He knew that the only way was going to sort this out, so to speak, was currently bustling around in the kitchen.

Fuck it.

Rising out of the water, he hopped out of the tub and strode across the decking, the wood cold on his feet as he made his way purposefully into the kitchen. Fliss was just turning setting two wine glasses out on the side,  and without warning, he strode up behind her and grabbed her hips over the top of the towel she was wrapped in. She gave a little squeak as he spun her round, his lips crashing to hers in a bruising kiss.

“Frank…” she mumbled, and he shook his head.

“Shut up.” He muttered, his lips back on hers. His tongue slid across her upper lip and she gave a soft groan, opening her mouth, allowing him to taste all of her, one hand sliding into her hair as he held her to him, not giving her an inch of space, his rock hard dick pressing into her stomach. She reached for his face but at the motion, his hands grabbed her wrists and forced them back to her sides, clearly, but wordlessly telling her who was in charge as he pulled away, his forehead pressing to hers as he untucked the towel, letting it drop to the floor. One hand sliding up her bare side, over her breast and came to rest at the base of her throat and he hesitated for a second, suddenly his memory spiked with the imagery of angry red finger marks around her delicate neck courtesy of that fucker in Boston almost eighteen months before. He stopped dead, his chest heaved, as for the first time Frank found himself a little lost about just how to proceed, worried he’d over stepped the mark.

And then Fliss’ eyes flashed, with excited trepidation as she leaned forward a little, her hand curling around his wrist.

“Do it.” She whispered, her lips ghosting his.

And at that Frank lost all self-control, a door he’d kept locked for as long as they’d been intimate was blown open the moment the words left her mouth.

Their lips found one another again, his hands moving to her waist to both pull her closer and he began to tug at her bikini bottoms, and in a quick swoop shoved them down as he took hold of her hips again so to manoeuvre her wherever he wanted, the pair of them stumbling a little before he roughly picked her up. Her bare legs immediately wrapped around his slim waist and her arms went around his neck as he slammed her up against the cold glass of the patio doors that led out to the decking. Using it as support he shifted his grip from under her ass, one hand wrapped around the back of her neck, holding her head in position as he kissed her, while the other pried her hands from around him. He wrapped his large hand round both of her wrists, pinning her arms above her head and held them there tightly as his mouth continued to fuck hers, hard, deliberate swipes of his tongue over hers, swallowing the little sighs and whimpers she was making.

Fliss rolled her hips hard against him which was enough to distract him a little, his mouth pausing, but not for long. His lips moved from hers, down to her jaw, her neck, and he bit and sucked, his lust addled brain not giving a single shit if he marked her flawless skin. The hand that was wrapped round her neck moved, skating down her side and over her bare stomach and she arched into the touch, wanting him to move a bit south, but his hand stopped an inch away from where she wanted it to be.

“You’re mine.” Frank’s voice was right by her ear, and he spoke with a deep, almost dark tone that Fliss had never heard from him before. It was full of desire, and it sent a shiver down her spin as once more she attempted to thrust up into his hand, desperate for any sense of relief. But he pulled away a little, making her whine a bit. “Ah ah, baby girl.”

“Frank.” she breathed out, stumbling over her words “Fuck, I…”

He cut her off as he surged forward, kissing her desperately and she openly cried out into his mouth as two of his fingers slipped inside of her. His motions were fast and aggressive and he brought her to the brink, and then stopped.

“Like that?” He breathed out, voice ragged, his lips brushing hers. “Tell me you do and you want this.” “Frankie, please.” She thrust her hips out toward him, gasping “I want you, always…”

At her words Frank felt his cock twitch and with a growl that was positively feral, his hand reached into his swim-shorts as he freed his painfully hard erection from them. He pushed the tip of his cock into her folds, pausing slightly before he slammed the rest of the way into her, making her cry out sharply. He continued to rut into her over and over causing the patio doors to rattle a little, and, as he looked up into her eyes, he found them wide with a look of surprise and downright lust which drove him even wilder and he dropped his head to the swell of her breasts. His free hand moved, pulling the cups of her bikini down and his mouth went to work, sucking and nipping, leaving red marks across her skin as his teeth and beard bit and scratched her raw as his hips snapped back and forth with an avaricious pace.

As he rolled a nipple between his teeth, Fliss let out a loud cry and tried to lean in more to him more, the motion made him go deeper inside of her, which caused them both to groan at the feeling. At that Frank moved his mouth back to hers, both messily kissing each other as he spun her round and stumbled around the kitchen area before he lay her a little roughly over the island in the middle, yanking her back slightly so that her ass hung off the side. His hips pistoned in and out of her with a force that it jolted her body back and forth, her hands flying to either side of her, palms slapping down on the cool surface. She arched her back, her ankles locking around his waist as he leaned down to kiss her again, his brow now beaded with sweat, chest heaving as he felt the coil in his belly starting to tighten.

“Fuck, Frank, I’m gonna…” Fliss felt the red, hot feeling brewing between her legs and thighs, her belly contracting as she teetered along the edge of her orgasm and at her words Frank slammed into her even harder before he gave a dirty little grind against her, repeating the motion a few more times and then she was done. She let out a loud scream and tightened around him, white lights exploding in front of her eyes as the entire world faded to nothing but a jumble of shapes and distant noises as her release wracked her entire body. Her legs trembled around him, gripping him tighter around his waist as she continued to groan out incoherently and at the feel of her tight heat pulsing around him, Frank’s final few thrusts became desperate before he gave a loud “Fahhk…” and he came, hard, his knees buckling slightly as he gripped at the edge of the counter, trying to steady himself.

His arms trembled as he gasped, before he leaned forward, his forehead pressing into her chest as she lay there, legs hanging off the side of the counter, her breathing deep, hands gently tangling in his hair as they both desperately tried to right themselves. Eventually, Frank found the strength to raise his head, his softening cock still stuffed inside of Fliss as he moved to kiss her again. This time the kiss was soft, and loaded with love as he slid his nose against hers, his eyes closed.

“Did I hurt you?” He swallowed, his voice raspy and Fliss shook her head.

“No, you would never hurt me.” She whispered. At that Frank opened his eyes to find her smiling gently at him, her face flushed, a look of sated satisfaction across her pretty features.

“I don’t know what came over me.” He shrugged, almost apologetically and she chuckled, her hand sliding to his shoulders.

“I don’t care.” She took another deep breath “Frank, that was…”

“Yeah.” He agreed, not needing to hear what she was going to say. “I know.”

“I think I’m done in the tub.” She mumbled and Frank chuckled.

“Bed?”

“Yeah. We should probably shower first.”

“Okay.” He move and pulled out of her slowly, before he tucked himself back into his shorts. Fliss pushed herself up into a sitting position and he gently wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her towards him. Her legs once more wrapped around his waist and she kissed him again, her hands sliding through his hair before he gently set her down on the floor. He took his time to scan her up and down as she sorted her swimwear, not missing the red marks on her neck, or the finger shaped ones on her hips where he’d manhandled her. He gently reached out to brush over the red lines he’d made just above her bikini bottoms with the pads of his fingers and her hands fell over his, and she shook her head.

“Don’t “she said gently as he looked up at her, his eyes locking onto hers. “They were made with love, not anger, Frank.”

He swallowed a little at her words, as she kissed him again, and then with her fingers laced into his she turned and they made their way to the bedroom. They took a quick joint shower, cleaning up, sharing a few more gentle kisses and hugs before they dried off and collapsed into bed, utterly spent.

“I love you sweetheart.” Frank pulled Fliss close, her back pressing to his chest as he pressed a soft kiss to her neck. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too, baby.” She yawned, shuffling back into him as they both closed their eyes and settled down, sleep claiming them in a ridiculously short time.

**** The next morning they both woke and lay in bed, just cuddling and chatting for a while before it was time to pack up and head to the airport. They packed their heavy winter coats into their bags just before check in and then headed through security and settled into the bar for a drink whilst they waited for their flight.

Thankfully, their trip home was as smooth as their trip out, no bags went missing and their transfer was on time, so at just after 3pm they touched down in Florida. Little over half an hour later they emerged into the arrivals lounge at Tampa Airport and Frank chuckled as Mary ran to them both. He dropped the bags he was carrying, swinging her up into his arms with a groan, dropping a kiss to her cheek as she hugged him. He then placed her onto the floor and she moved to hug Fliss.

“I missed you both!” She grinned as Fliss straightened up.

“We missed you too!” Fliss smiled at her, before she looked at her Dad who had just given Frank a quick back slapping embrace. “How’s Alex?”

“He’s fine, he’d just gone down when I came out to pick you up.” Bill smiled, giving her a hug. “So, did you have a nice time?”

“It was great.” Frank smiled, picking up his bag as Bill reached to take Fliss’. “Loved every second of it.”

“Did you bring me a present?” Mary demanded as they headed through towards the elevator to take them to the parking lot.

“Matter of fact, yes we did.” Frank smiled and he reached into his small carry-on bag , pulling out a half drunk bottle of water. “Brought you some genuine Vermont snow except it melted, so now it’s more genuine Vermont water.”

Mary looked at it, then to him. “That’s not funny, Dad.” She glared as Bill roared with laughter. She snatched the bottle of Evian and then gave a scoff. “You could have at least tried to make the joke with a bottle of water from this country.”

“So ungrateful.” Frank took it back from her and twisted the cap off, taking a long drink as the elevator doors opened. “Tell you what, snow water sure does taste good.”

Marry rolled her eyes before she turned to Bill. “Can I stay with you?”

“Course you can love.”

“Good, because you’re much less of an idiot than he is.” She jerked her thumb at Frank who arched his eyebrow at her.

“Oh I dunno about that.” Fliss quipped cheekily as Bill looked at her, his eyebrow raised. “I could tell you a few tales about some pretty dumb stuff he’s done.”

“Like what?” Mary asked.

“Like the time he crashed a fork-lift into the side of a van on a building site.” Fliss mused. “Or when he dropped a hammer on his foot and broke two of his toes when he was putting up a shelf in the kitchen.”

“Are we going there, Titch?” Bill turned to her as he selected the floor for their car, Frank and Mary’s laughter echoing around the elevator. “Because as far as doing stupid stuff goes, you and your brother take the biscuit.”

“Cookie.” Mary looked at him. “They take the cookie.”

“Biscuit.” Bill shot back.

“We had this discussion last night, Poppa Bill!” Mary shook her head. “It’s a cookie.”

Bill looked down at her, then to Frank.

“I changed my mind, you can keep her.” He deadpanned.

**** Chapter 21

[translations-by-aiimee]

Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 3

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

TW for this chapter: Mentions of slave trafficking

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 3 - Born Without Tears

The red-dressed beauty lightly opened his vermilion lips and blew into the jade flute. The flute sound was full of lingering affection, softly touching his heart, as if he was inviting all listeners to join the red curtain and share the scenery together.

Song Qingshi's mother was an internationally renowned pianist. Because of her influence, music had become Song Qingshi's only hobby outside of school. In the last days of Song Qingshi's life, he had lost all body functions, but his consciousness was extremely clear.

His mother invested heavily in installing top-notch audio equipment in his room to play music everyday. She also asked top musicians in various fields to give him a small concert every day.

Music rescued him from the brink of despair and soothed his heart. During this special time, Song Qingshi was particularly sensitive to the emotions in music. He could hear the player's tenderness in the passionate piano music, and he could also find hidden encouragement in the sad and solemn guzheng music. . .

Now, he heard the familiar struggle and despair in the lingering and affectionate sound of the flute.

Song Qingshi finally raised his head, staring at the brilliant phoenix in a daze. He could no longer look away.

Jin FeiRen found out that Song Qing finally became interested in one of the beauties, and he was overjoyed: "Song Xianzun is interested in this slave? His name is Yue Wuhuan, naturally charming, a rare wood single-spirit root. That means he's much more resistant when tossing him around in bed. The more you rough him up, the more unhinged he comes. Those who have tried it have never failed to boast about it. Do you want to taste him first?"

Song Qingshi's ears were reddened by his explicit recommendation. He quickly turned his eyes away, and said dumbly: "No need."

"Medicine Master Xianzun is clean and does not engage in those activities. If you don't love these things, don't force him, friend." LingBao Xianzun came over, pointing to Yue Wuhuan and exclaimed, "If I remember, was this the best product sold by Xie Que? This immortal world is still the best place for him to raise beautiful people; one is more tasteful than the last. Alas, I have a friend who is his good friend, and all kinds of better goods will be sold to you first."

Jin FeiRen waved his hand and said, "You flatter me. What he really has a good relationship with are thirty hu of mermaid pearls."

LingBao Xianzun laughed: "If all friendships in the world could be created with money, my friend would be surrounded by the most affectionate people in the world. Come, come, let me have three cups with my friend and celebrate the wind and moon together.

Jin FeiRen also laughed, and ordered the young man in his arms to fill a glass of wine and drink with LingBao Xianzun.

LingBao Xianzun had already drunk a lot. He was slightly drunk. He leaned against the table and listened to the flute. He exclaimed: "I remember that when this beauty first entered this place, he was reluctant to accompany guests, even under the control of Acacia Seal. It was very interesting to see, but now he has become so promiscuous, and his flavour has changed. You have great methods, my friend."

Jin FeiRen shook his head: "It's a pity that this beauty doesn't cry no matter how rough you toss him around. He was born without tears, and because of that, some of his appeal has been lost."

Song Qingshi heard the professional question and couldn't help answering: "Being born without tears may be a problem with the lacrimal secretion system."

Jin Fei was dumbfounded for a moment. He appreciated his friendship with Song Qingshi, but he couldn't keep up with his medical obsession. He had to laugh awkwardly and switch off the topic: "Don't look at this beauty's promiscuity deceive you. In the mortal world, he was also a noble and respectable prince. When he was eight years old, Xie Que found that he had excellent aptitude when he was looking for beauties in the mortal world, so he showed his supernatural powers and presented the emperor with a pill for prolonging life. The old emperor was so happy that he happily gave his son to the immortal leader. Xie Que is also an ingenious person. He will seriously accept mortals with spiritual roots as disciples, and coax them to trust him. Then he uses that trust to trick them to sign the spiritual contract of voluntary slavery. He then teaches them superficial techniques, and, when they appear to be at their peak, brands them with the Acacia Seal. He always gets them when the colour is at the best time for picking, and then sells them to the brothels to serve in their rooms.

Although everyone knew he was taking advantage of those loopholes, they all turned a blind eye and eventually accepted this method of slave trafficking."

The Yanshou Pill can only be taken once to extend someone's life to reach 100 years old.

Cultivators can live at least three hundred years so long as they build a good foundation base. They don't need this tasteless kind of thing at all. Most of them are bought for their mortal servants. The price is very cheap, only worth two low-grade spirit stones. Such huge profits have continued to promote the slave trade.

There is an endless stream of cultivators in the trade, but none of them are well-versed as Xie Que.

Song Qingshi was surprised to find in his memory that the original body had seen Xie Que before.

That spring, the original body was studying a new way to create pills behind closed doors. Xie Que came to seek medical treatment with a comatose child. The child was a mortal, about eleven or twelve years old, with a rare pure yang physique and a wood spiritual root. Moreover, when he reached the third rank, his talents were different, and he was even better than some of the wasted descendants of various immortal families. Xie Que said that it was his new apprentice who had recruited more than three years ago. When he went to the mountains to practice, he was bitten by a Devil Mask Snake. Devil Mask Snakes are not extremely poisonous, but they will turn the faces of the poisoned person different colours, just like they were wearing a mask.

The original body typically didn't treat mortals, but Xie cried out in tears, saying that this was his most important apprentice, and he was willing to pay a high price to save him. The original body was in a good mood at the time, and was annoyed by his repeated crying. The Devil Mask Snake poison was also easy to detoxify. He finally relented and ordered a servant to give him two detoxification pills and ordered Xie Que not to cry again.

Xie Que stayed beside the apprentice’s bed and took care of him for three days. The apprentice woke up from a coma, his body no longer in a serious condition, but it took time for the ghost marks on his face to disappear. They stayed in the valley for half a month, and waited until his apprentice's face fully recovered.

During that time, the peach blossoms in the medicine garden bloomed just right, like red brocade all over the sky. When the original body encounters a problem with his alchemy, he often sits in a high place and looks at the peach blossoms and thinks. Every time, the original body would see a small figure under the peach blossom practicing swordsmanship. He practiced in the morning, at noon, and at night, as if it had become a landscape of symbiosis with the peach blossoms.

Mortals trying to cultivate immortality are like a fish leaping over a dragon's gate. The path comes with many difficulties and dangers, and there are few successful ones.

Xie Que was always by his side, with a worried expression on his face. He was either afraid that he would drop his sword or that he would become exhausted. The two quarreled several times. On a whim, the original's body and mind let out a spiritual thought to investigate. He heard the child say to Xie Que: "Master, although mortals are not as good as immortals, my father taught me to reward my diligence, and diligence can make up for my weaknesses. So I have to work harder and never waste time."

"What you said makes sense," Xie Que tried to persuade him with a bitter face. "Your injury has not healed. I'm afraid you might hurt your body. And. . . why do you have to practice sword? Entertaining cultivation, wouldn’t it be better for you to learn some flute, piano or something?"

"Master taught me to use music to cultivate Taoism is very good," the child scratched his head embarrassedly. "But I like swords, I want to be like Mo Yuan Jianzun. Master, rest assured, I know all the songs you taught me. I practiced better than my senior brothers and sisters, and I definitely don't put off practice."

Xie Que had no choice but to say: "I will find you the right ice silk gloves later. You must wear them when you practice swords. You must soak your hands with lotion at night to make your hands soft. This will prevent calluses, so you won't miss the subsequent practice."

The child cheered, excitedly: "Master, you are so kind."

"Don't get hurt," Xie Que lightly knocked on his forehead and complained. "You naughty devil. Your master is terrified. From now on, stay in the sects when you practice, and you are not allowed to go to the back mountains. Take breaks as well to avoid ruining your eyes."

The child accepted all these conditions.

Xie Que leaned over, rubbed his head gently, and sighed: "You don't know how much Master values you. . ."

"I know." The child raised his head and said in a serious voice: "I know that the immortal world looks down on mortals that cultivate immortality, and even looks down on the master who only accepts mortals as disciples. I don't want to shame my master, so I must cultivate a Golden Core to prove to everyone that Master’s vision is right!"

Xie Que looked at his face silently, his eyes distant and difficult to distinguish.

The child pulled Xie Que's sleeves, turned his eyes, and said embarrassedly: "Wuhuan likes Master the most!"

Xie Que stretched out his fingertips, stroked the child's colorful face, looked carefully, and finally stopped reluctantly on the small red mole under his left eye, which was dazzlingly beautiful. He was silent for a long time, showing a very kind smile: "Master also likes you the most."

. . .

[wickedpact]

Idea for a JoexNicky fic!! (anon here)- piggybacking off the other anon's nicky's mom idea, what if for an anniversary present, Joe sketches a portrait of Nicky's mother? (obviously she'd look like a beautiful warm goddess of kindness) Like maybe he has a dream of one of Nicky's most vivid memories ;-; I would literally die

so uh. this bloomed wildly out of my control

this ficlet is 5k words long so dont open that read more unless youre willing to commit to it

warnings: brief discussions of violence, extremely brief mention of sex, me not knowing how the FUCK one becomes a priest in Ye Olde 1000′s, and probably a criminal lack of historical accuracy as well as a criminal lack of the accented o in ‘nicolo’

yeehaw.

  It starts with one of Andromache’s sparring sessions, and of course by ‘sparring’ session Nicolo means a session in which Andromache was in a piss poor mood for no obvious reason, and decided to take it out on the rest of them.

 These sessions tend to start with Andromache coming hurtling into their camp with a dark expression on her face, and end with Yusuf and Nicolo sprawled on the ground, bruised and exhausted, while Andromache and Quynh beat the ever-loving hell out of each other nearby. (Yusuf has been convinced for a long time that it's some sort of mating ritual; Nicolo... doubts it.)

This time around, they are at some point after Nicolo has given up, and some point before Yusuf has joined him; Nicolo lies on the sand, starfished, while Quynh and Yusuf attempt to tag team Andromache with an abundance of vigor and middling results. Nicolo cranes his neck to watch the spectacle, catching a glimpse of Andromache flipping Quynh straight over her shoulder before twisting around and kicking Yusuf dangerously close to the groin. Yusuf stumbles, and Andromache grabs him by the shoulder, shoving his considerable weight off of his feet and towards Nicolo’s resting spot.

Yusuf, stumbling, manages to not trip over Nicolo by inches, and falls face-first onto the ground beside him with a groan. Meanwhile, Quynh has recovered and charges at Andy again, beginning their age-old dance yet again.

Yusuf grumbles at Nicolo’s side and peels himself off the ground, leveraging onto a knee. Nicolo drops his head back down to look at him, smiling when he swipes a hand across his beard to dislodge the sand accumulating there. Having been roasting under the midday sun and the excursion of the fight for hours now, Yusuf is layered in sweat and breathing heavily but evenly, chest and shoulders heaving slowly with each breath. Nicolo’s mouth goes crooked watching him.

“She doesn’t attack still targets,” he advises, amused, lying still atop the sand.

“Like a lioness!” Yusuf agrees with a zest Nicolo lost about thirteen minutes ago. He pulls himself onto both knees and balances on them, wavering in a way that makes Nicolo want to give him a steadying hand. “Hm.” Yusuf braces a hand on his thigh, face scrunching up in consideration. “No. I don’t think so.”

And then he plops, face first, back to the sand. Nicolo gives him an encouraging pat on the back with his knuckles.

“Are you two giving up?” Andromache calls over. Nicolo cranes his head up again to see that Quynh is on the ground yet again, slowly stumbling to her feet, and Andromache stands with her back to her, facing them. Her hands are on her hips.

“Yes. Thank you for checking in!” Nicolo confirms, lifting a hand to give her a thumbs up. Andromache responds to the sass with a raised eyebrow before whirling around and punching Quynh in the stomach before the younger immortal could sneak up on her.

Quynh goes down for the-- who knows how many times now, and Nicolo drops his head. He squints up at the wavering blue lines of the sky until Andromache’s white robes cross his vision, casting a shadow over his and Yusuf’s resting forms.

“Get up,” Andromache insists, nudging Nicolo with her boot. “I’m not done with you two yet.”

“You can’t make us,” Yusuf grumbles into the sand.

“You bet I can’t?” Andromache threatens, more a tease than a promise. When neither of them reply, she rolls her eyes and says, with a less than gentle kick to Yusuf’s side, “You babies are so soft.”

Yusuf hisses, rolling away from Andromache’s boot, into Nicolo’s side. “Son of a whore, Andromache, knock it off,” he grouches, dropping his shoulder atop Nicolo’s. Nicolo grunts with the weight of it. “Or daughter of a whore, that is,” he corrects himself, then adds thoughtfully, “No offense to your mother, if she were a woman of the night. What did your mother do, Andromache?”

Andromache laughs at Yusuf’s meandering insult-- a posturing bluster of a laugh that makes Nicolo blink, wondering if Yusuf’s actually offended her somehow. If so this would be the first time; Nicolo has always known Andromache to be thicker skinned than a mule.

But then she says, “I don’t remember my mother. Who knows,” and turns and heads back over to Quynh, who’s only just recovered from before. They resume sparring, Nicolo watching them with mild confusion.

Nicolo turns to look at Yusuf, wondering if he’d caught onto Andromache’s discomfort, but when Nicolo catches his eye, he just shrugs his shoulder against the sand and says, “Well, that’s a line that’ll end an argument every time, eh?”

~

Later on, Nicolo is still considering it, sprawled in front of the fire --that Quynh had constructed a couple hours prior-- with Yusuf, Nicolo slouched against his chest and bracketed by his bent knees. Andromache and Quynh are arguing over the linen tent a little ways off, and Nicolo watches Andromache carefully, the lines on her face and the muscles in her arms, the working parts of her that have existed on this earth for thousands of years. The things her hands have done; the things her eyes have seen.

The things her heart has forgotten.

“You are thinking very loudly over there,” Yusuf says from somewhere over Nicolo’s head. Nicolo shifts his eyes from Andromache and Qyunh, to the fire, to his and Yusuf’s legs stretched out before it. He tilts his head back, the top of his head against Yusuf’s sternum, but all he can see from that angle is Yusuf’s beard, so he drops his head back down with a little amused huff.

“Andromache is very old,” Nicolo says slowly.

“Ah, yes,” Yusuf agrees, amiable. “Also: water is very wet, and the desert is very hot.”

“S’cold at night,” Nicolo grumbles, just to be contrary, and is rewarded by Yusuf slipping his arms under Nicolo’s, bundling him closer to his chest and notching his chin over his head.

“What’s wrong, Nico?”

Nicolo requires no further prompting, not from Yusuf at least. The words come tumbling out of his mouth, one at a time. “She doesn’t remember her mother.”

There’s little more that needs to be said there. The immortal life is one that comes with many downsides, and the nature of it is that sometimes one discovers these downsides centuries later than expected. This isn’t the first time an unexpected side-effect of their unending lives has been thrust upon him and Yusuf, and likely won’t be the last.

Nicolo had never really thought he might one day forget his mother.

 Yusuf hums thoughtfully in response, a non-answer that does little to soothe Nicolo. “That she doesn’t,” he adds after a moment. “What was your mother like?”

“I don’t--” Nicolo starts, and then, with an odd curiosity, realizes he’s having difficulty continuing. “I... didn’t know her very long. I was given to the church… very young. I don’t remember much of what she was like, other than that she was my mother.”

“Do you remember what she looked like?”

“Well…” 

Nicolo remembers little of his life before the clergy. Two brothers. A sister. His father’s stern brow, and the calluses on his mother’s hand as she took his little fingers in hers, leading him down the dirt paths back in Genova. Her smile, silhouetted by the heady red glow of the afternoon sun. 

“Brown hair,” Nicolo eventually answers. “Dark eyebrows. High cheekbones, too, and… and kind eyes.”

“What I’m hearing is you took after her very strongly.”

Nicolo smiles. “I do remember being told something of the sort before.”

“Her eyes?” Joe rests one of his palms flat against Nicolo’s stomach.

“Green, I’m pretty sure.”

“So you took after her very strongly, then,” Joe concludes.

Nicolo looks down, fiddling with the fingers of Joe’s free hand. “She used to take me to the shore. We’d gather seashells together.”

That he remembers well, plucking seashells and bits of coral out from dried seafoam after the tide had gone out near the end of the day, one arm bundling conch and clam shells against his chest, the other prying washed-up shells from the still wet sand. The sun would be low, but not low enough that they would feel the need to rush, and it would cast their shadows in long, blue lines across the beach. Time was an endless thing there, where the sun glowed red and bright, and there was always another conch shell wedged in the damp earth to dig up.

“She sounds lovely,” Yusuf hums. Nicolo pauses, tracing Yusuf’s index finger with his own. Yusuf almost never talks about his family. They have known each other for nearly three hundred years now, and yet Nicolo could store all the things he knows of Yusuf's family in a basket. Over the years he’s been able to piece together that both of Yusuf’s parents were dead before the Crusades began. And that they both died when Yusuf was fairly young. Beyond that… he knows little.

“Yusuf…” Nicolo starts, uncertain and fidgeting. “What about your mother?”

“My mother?” Yusuf repeats, as if Nicolo has somehow strung together two incomprehensible words. 

“Yes.” When a pause stretches between them, Nicolo sighs and laces his fingers between Yusuf’s. “You don’t need to tell me.”

“No, no,” Yusuf insists before Nicolo can change the topic. He returns Nicolo’s grip on his hands, smoothing his thumb over the knuckle of Nicolo’s pointer finger. “I want to. My mother…” He sighs. “She was very anxious. Always fretting. She was a weaver; she liked making rugs.”

Yusuf’s thumb stills over Nicolo’s knuckle. Nicolo tilts his head. “Your prayer mat. Did she--?

“Yeah, she made it.” Yusuf pauses again. “Weaving calmed her down when she was nervous. My father and I, we would travel often-- business, you know. Trade deals and things. Mother always worried when we were gone.”

They both pause when Quynh yells something particularly loud at Andromache, breaking the moment for a split second. Andromache hollers something back, and the two women break out into abrupt laughter.

“Are you worried you’ll forget her?” Nicolo asks when they've settled again. “Your mother?”

“No,” Yusuf replies, though he trails off halfway through the word. “In part, I suppose… but there are many things I’d like to forget, I think.”

Nicolo peels himself out of Yusuf’s arms in response to that, twisting around to look at his companion. Yusuf’s brows are pressed together, the tilt of his mouth sad. Nicolo places a hand to his chest, fingers against Yusuf’s collar. “Yusuf?”

Yusuf sucks the inside of his cheek, looking far away before directing a sad smile at Nicolo. “She came with us, once. On a trip. Of course the one time Father allowed her to come was the time that it went wrong.” At Nicolo’s questioning look, Yusuf elaborates, “Bandits.”

“Yusuf...”

“I hadn’t really known how to fight, then, so it didn’t… really matter, either way-- but I got knocked out in the fight, and by the time I woke up again, it was all over.” With a slow breath, Yusuf looks down at their interwoven fingers. “I would like to forget some things. Not her, but…” 

It takes Yusuf a long moment to continue. He looks up, towards the stars, lips pursed with thought, before eventually ducking his head again. Nicolo waits quietly.

“It is hard to remember them,” Yusuf says eventually, to their hands, “without remembering them in death. I had to bury them both.”

With a soft noise, Nicolo reaches forward and pulls Yusuf into a hug, arms wrapping about his shoulders; Yusuf responds in chorus and reaches for Nicolo back, his embrace tight enough to grind bone.

Nicolo rubs a hand up and down Yusuf’s back, his face tucked into Nicolo’s shoulder. Perturbed, Nicolo can’t imagine it- the comforting memory of his own mother, crossed and tainted by violence so cruelly. To lose her was enough. To lose the comfort of remembering her as well would be harrowing.

Yusuf pulls away first after some time, eyes red but dry, mouth turned down. Nicolo reaches up and thumbs at the crease between his brows, which quirks Yusuf’s lips ever so slightly.

“How old were you?” Nicolo asks.

Yusuf reaches up and takes Nicolo’s hand from his face, wrapping his fingers around his. “Twenty one.”

“A child.”

“Hardly, Nico,” Yusuf snorts softly. Nicolo disagrees, but he’s not going to start an argument over it. Not now.

With a sigh, Yusuf leans back against the rock formation behind them, wrapping an arm around Nicolo and tugging him sideways against his chest. Nicolo rests his head against Yusuf's shoulder.

“It’s not that I wish to forget her. Or my father. But I… would rather fondly remember the idea of them, the fragments, then remember them perfectly in death. That might make me selfish.”

“It does not,” Nicolo replies sternly. “It makes perfect sense to feel that way, Yusuf.” And then, “I’m sorry.” Yusuf only hums in response. It is, admittedly, a frail sentiment, so Nicolo adds, “I love you. In case you’ve forgotten.”

This earns him a huff against the top of his head. “I love you too,” Yusuf responds, and they fall into an easy silence.

After a few minutes, and with a great sigh, Yusuf tilts his head so that his cheek presses against Nicolo’s hair. “Nicolo…” he mumbles, hesitant, “I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but... I think we’re sleeping under the stars tonight.”

Nicolo lifts his head and twists around to find the half-assembled and frankly pathetic looking tent swaying off in the distance alone, with both Andromache and Quynh nowhere in sight.

“The consolidated wisdom of millenia,” Nicolo grumbles, dropping his head back against Yusuf. “And they still can’t assemble a tent.”

Yusuf laughs; Nicolo is by far more warmed by that than any comfort the damned tent could have offered.

~

Quynh has the little joke of hers whenever they go drinking. She’ll tell Yusuf, giggling into her tankard, “I miss when you didn’t drink!”

This is a joke because Yusuf gave up his abstinence of alcohol only a few months after he and Nicolo had met Quynh and Andromache, nearly two hundred years ago now, and when he’d announced his decision to do so to the two warrior women, they’d both admitted they didn’t even realize that he didn’t drink in the first place. 

Nearly two hundred years later, Quynh continues to make this joke. Nicolo has yet to find it funny, but Yusuf laughs every time.

“It’s our anniversary, Quynh, you must be nice to us!” Yusuf insists in response to said joke. He is, as Andromache might say, drunk off his ass, swaying happily in his seat at the musty bar they’ve settled in for the night to celebrate. Despite how loudly he’s speaking, Nicolo can barely hear him over the clatter and bustle and chatter of the other, varyingly drunk, patrons at the bar.

“Three hundred years is nothing, Yusuf. You’re still babies,” Andromache replies, equally smashed yet bearing it more stoically, pitched against Quynh’s shoulder. One of her hands is still curled loosely around her tankard, unwilling to give it up just yet, probably.

Nicolo leans back against his rickety chair. “Do you two remember when you only knew each other for three hundred years?”

In response to this, Andromache pulls back from Quynh’s shoulder, propping herself up on the edge of a table with her free hand. She tilts her head, staring silently at Quynh with a quirked mouth, and Quynh stares back, eyebrows raised high. Nicolo’s gaze flicks between the two warrior women, eyeing them both, studying the emotion in their eyes and their mouths and their brows. 

For nearly an entire minute they say nothing. They have no need to. The charged gaze between them could write entire epics; legions of words pass between them and neither woman even opens her mouth.

Nicolo finds himself slightly jealous. He wonders if he and Yusuf will ever hit a point such as this, where they could communicate without words, know each other so well that even a twitch of the brow or a press of lips could mean so much-- that words become irrelevant. Become small and useless compared to the years of their bond.

“It was a time,” Quynh answers at last, smiling a far away smile.

“That’s different,” Yusuf interrupts, slurring slightly and grinning widely. “because, this isn’t about how long you two have known each other, but how long I’ve known Nicolo,” here, he gestures broadly at Nicolo, sitting at his side, “and when you two will have known Nicolo for three hundred years, and-- and want to celebrate, I will not laugh at your paltry few years spent with him, in comparison to my many centuries! And you may-- may thank me for my generosity and kindness-- then.”

Quynh snorts. “That was very poetic of you, Yusuf.”

“Thank you.” Yusuf places a calloused hand atop Nicolo’s head. “I love him very much,” he states, very sincerely, if a little slurred.

Andromache, as always, seems to feel a compulsion to try and ruin the moment. Their Andromache, old and wise as she is, is a great many things: an elegant warrior, a stern protector, and a graceful leader-- however, a kind drunk she is not.  “You know, you’ll get tired of each other eventually,” she points out, gesturing between the two of them. Yusuf rolls his eyes, his hand slipping from Nicolo’s head. “Quynh and I usually separate every couple hundred years for a time. It’s normal.”

“Bah,” Yusuf grumbles. “Andromache, you do not have a romantic bone in your body.”

“I do!” Andromache insists. Quynh sends her a sharp look that she doesn’t see because she’s too busy waving her hand widely. “I have been with, and wooed, and have been wooed by-- by more men and women than you’ve ever even set eyes on.”

Yusuf copies Andromache’s grand gesture, cheery and mocking. “That, what you’ve just described, is the opposite of romance, boss.”

“Whatever,” Andromache concedes with middling grace. “I’m happy for you two, either way.”

“Thank you,” Nicolo says, so that Yusuf won't say anything else. “Another round?”

~

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Yusuf says to Nicolo an hour or so later, as Nicolo is trying to haul the damned drunk up the stairs without sending them both sprawling down to their temporary deaths.

Funnily enough, around the time Yusuf began drinking, Nicolo stopped-- not out of any particular thoughts on alcohol itself, but because someone had to remain sober in order to drag Yusuf’s drunken ass back to their room at the end of the night, and the responsibility fell to Nicolo for all of the obvious reasons, and also because he was happy to do it.

“Who?” Nicolo asks, steadying a hand on Yusuf’s shoulder when he sways at the top dangerously.

“Andromache,” Yusuf replies. Nicolo’s not sure what exactly Yusuf thinks she was wrong about-- they’d discussed many topics at the bar downstairs-- but he might succeed in having this conversation more so if Andromache and Quynh weren’t standing no less than five feet away, hovering just inside their room’s open door down the hall, stripping down to their tunics and trousers.

Probably standing by in case Nicolo and Yusuf took an unfortunate tumble down the stairs. Nicolo is warmed by their concern, but Yusuf is too busy being drunkenly confused by Andromache’s presence after she calls over an “about what?” to think of such things.

“Where did you come from?” Yusuf asks Andromache, only going half willingly when Nicolo rolls his eyes and drags him down the hall.

“Thank you, good night,” Nicolo tells the two women as they pass their door and head down the hall to theirs, floorboards creaking under their boots.

“Have a nice anniversary, infants!” Andromach calls after they manage to stumble to their door, sticking her head out of theirs.

Nicolo fiddles with the key the barkeep gave him, trying desperately to ignore Yusuf when he yells back, “Us infants will try not to fuck so loud you can hear it all the way down there!” probably scarring some of the tenants.

“I bet you can’t!” Andromache responds, gleeful, and ducks back inside to slam the door shut.

“Is that a fucking challenge?” Yusuf asks the empty hallway, going easily when Nicolo drags him inside.

It’s a humble room, but the presence of four walls and a floor makes it good enough for Nicolo, and the bed is only an added bonus. He leaves Yusuf to his own devices as he lights the lantern set in the corner, double checking that their bags --that they’d tossed in the room earlier-- haven’t been stolen. He nudges the bags with a toe as he unlatches his longsword from his belt, propping the sheath up carefully by the little table with the lantern.

Yusuf is being oddly quiet; Nicolo turns to find the love of his life lying starfished on the little bed, peering up at the wood ceiling as if the secrets of the universe are engraved on it.

“I am so tired, Nicolo,” Yusuf mumbles, mournful. “Why did you make me go up all those stairs?”

“I am infamously known to be cruel and unfair,” Nicolo replies dryly, crossing over and sitting next to Yusuf. He unbuckles the straps around Yusuf’s shoulders that keep his scimitar attached to his back while Yusuf lies still. When the task is done, he looks up to find Yusuf staring at him, brows drawn together. “Lean up,” Nicolo orders softly, and Yusuf complies without complaint, shifting his shoulders off the bed just enough that Nicolo can pull his sheath off.

He stands to go retrieve his own sword, so that both can be placed at their bedside, within reach, shucking off his boots as he goes.

“Can you grab my bag for me?” Yusuf asks from the bed while Nicolo is doing so, so Nicolo does, balancing the two sheathed swords under one arm and holding Yusuf’s rucksack in the other.

He drops the bag at Yusuf's side and sits beside it, setting both swords at his feet, on the left side of the bed. Usually Yusuf’s scimitar goes on the other side, but Nicolo does not trust him with access to a sharp object in this state.

Yusuf sits up to shuffle through his bag. “I got you something,” he tells Nicolo when he straightens. Nicolo frowns at him.

“You got me something?” he repeats. 

“Yeah.” Yusuf pulls out his sketchbook, though he doesn't grab his bag of charcoals.

But I didn’t get you anything, is something Nicolo almost wants to say, but honestly, three hundred years into a relationship, you stop keeping track of how many gifts have been exchanged and when. Especially when their finances are so intertwined. Nicolo and Yusuf simply buy each other things whenever the urge arises, and they’re both such men that these gifts are usually just practical items: new boots, a thicker cloak, and so on.

But now Yusuf passes Nicolo his sketchbook, turning back to the bag to buckle it closed again.

“A sketchbook,” Nicolo muses with a smile, rubbing a thumb over the bound leather cover. “You shouldn't have.”

“Oh, stop,” Yusuf grumbles, snatching the book back once his bag is closed. He shoves it off the bed with a mildly worrying clank and sits in its vacated spot, next to Nicolo. “Your jokes will make you look a fool when you are crying tears of gratitude on me.” 

Nicolo smiles. Yusuf’s thigh, pressed against Nicolo’s, is warm, and his shoulder knocks against Nicolo’s with such familiarity Nicolo wonders if he could identify Yusuf from that alone; without sight, without hearing. He thinks he could, given the opportunity.

Yusuf flips through his sketchbook quickly, scanning past images of landscapes and crowded marketplaces and Nicolo’s own smiling face until he stops at a certain page, angling the book away so that Nicolo cannot see. He peers sideways at him, suspicious or maybe anticipatory.

“Do you expect me to start the tears of gratitude now, or…?” Nicolo asks, grinning at Yusuf’s unamused stare before Yusuf shoves the book into Nicolo’s open hands.

Nicolo doesn’t understand what he’s looking at, at first. Not that he doesn’t recognize the image; he does, he just doesn’t... understand.

“How…?” Nicolo asks, trailing off in wonder. He lifts a hand to touch the image, then snatches his hand away, afraid he’ll smear it.

It’s his mother.

He doesn’t understand how Yusuf could do this; drawing his mother is one thing, but the accuracy of the drawing to Nicolo’s memory is astounding. The line of her cheekbones and the crinkles of her crows feet, the shape of her eyes set by happiness. The drift of hair over her shoulder is a little longer than his mother had it, and a little straighter, but other than that it is an almost perfect recreation. Down to the curl of her mouth, the small flash of teeth. Nicolo can practically hear her in the image, her eyebrows raised and surprised joy flashing in her eyes, as she says, “That’s a big one, Nicolo, good job!”

“How did you do this?” Nicolo asks, voice small.

“Do you remember when you told me what she looked like?” Yusuf asks. “When we were talking about Andromache’s mother?”

“Yes, I remember,” Nicolo replies, frustrated. “I told you she had brown hair and green eyes. Yusuf, how did you--” He peels his eyes off of the drawing that sends him straight to his childhood. “You even got her smile right.”

Yusuf presses his lips together in a fond little smirk. “I will tell you, but you must agree not to share my secret.”

“Yusuf.”

Yusuf scoots that much closer, tucking a hand under Nicolo’s jaw, thumb smoothing over his cheek. “I know how she smiles because I know how you smile. Because she’s your mother. And she lives in you, even if she’s been dead three hundred years. Even if you forget her to some small degree, she will stay with you. Here--” Yusuf touches the corner of Nicolo’s mouth. “And here--” His pointer swipes over Nicolo’s cheekbone. “And here.” He presses a thumb under Nicolo’s eye, and it comes away wet. He makes a small noise. “I was kidding about the tears of gratitude, Nico.”

The sketchbook almost falls off of Nicolo’s thighs in his urgency to pull Yusuf into a hug.

Yusuf returns the embrace with a huffing little laugh, arms wrapping around Nicolo’s waist and hauling him in close, the sketchbook folding closed between the press of their bodies, the beat of their hearts against each other.

“Thank you, Yusuf,” Nicolo murmurs into the crook of Yusuf’s neck, endlessly sincere. His fingers hook into Yusuf’s tunic, over his back, already pulled tight by the muscles there.

“Happy anniversary,” Yusuf responds cheerily. “To three hundred years, eh?”

“And three hundred more,” Nicolo reminds him.

“Fuck, Nicolo.” Yusuf leans back, hands lingering at his waist. He catches Nicolo’s eyes, his brows pulled together. “To three thousand more; Andromache doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Nicolo frowns, recalling Yusuf saying something of the sort in the hall. “What did she say?”

“What did she say?” Yusuf repeats thoughtfully. “I don’t remember-- some nonsense about us getting tired of each other.”

“Oh.” Nicolo does remember that. “I don’t think she meant it like that, Yusuf. And after all, she is rather the authority on how the relationships of immortals work.”

“The authority!” Yusuf repeats, mocking. “When Andromache kills a man with her bare hands and comes out the other side of the experience loving him, I will give her credence to the idea that she’s an authority over our relationship.”

“I didn’t say she was an authority over us. Just that she may understand better.”

“What, do you think she’s right?” Yusuf’s brow furrows, voice lowering. “That we shall grow tired of each other?”

“No,” Nicolo immediately insists, his desire to assure Yusuf strong and instinctual. He lets his hand slide to his shoulder, gripping there. “At least,” he admits on second thought, “I’ve never once felt anything to give me the impression that I will. But it may happen, Yusuf.”

To be completely honest, Nicolo can’t imagine such a thing. He’s woken up every morning for the past three hundred years of his life at Yusuf’s side, and he can’t even begin to understand what kind of drastic shift in his heart would inspire him to grow tired or restless of doing so. Of Yusuf’s hands, of his voice, of his glittering eyes and his loud, joyful laugh-- and the way he furrows his brow when he’s thoughtful, like he’s doing at Nicolo right now.

“Because Andromache says so? I think not,” Yusuf argues. “Andromache is wise, but she’s known us barely more than a hundred years. Her experience does not allow her to see to your heart, or to mine. I will love you forever, Nicolo.”

“Forever is a long time, Yusuf,” Nicolo responds, smiling.

“Well, I will,” Yusuf insists. “When we are twice as old as Andromache is today, and the memories of our childhoods, and our warring, and even our three hundred year anniversary will be nothing but dust, I will remember loving you with certainty-- and that will be because I’ll have done it every day of my life.”

Yusuf shrugs and presses closer, bowing his forehead to Nicolo’s. “And if we forget every bad time and every good time with it,” he murmurs, looking down, “I will not care; it will all wash away in the sands of time eventually, but I have no intent to be separated from you. I won't let memory or time or violence take you from me. I don’t care what Andromache says. The only thing that will end us is your word, Nicolo.”

Amused, Nicolo lets out a throaty little huh. “You will be waiting a long time for that, Yusuf. Maybe even forever.”

Yusuf grins at that, eyes flicking up, and Nicolo has that split second thought he always has --you’re hiding dimples under all that beard-- before Yusuf tilts his head up and kisses him, leaning forward with all the drunken weight of his body.

Nicolo catches Yusuf’s jaw in his hand, shoulders bunching up as he shifts so that Yusuf doesn't topple them both; tilts his head and grips Yusuf’s shoulder and kisses him back.

It is not, admittedly, their best kiss. But Nicolo’s found over the years that a kiss with Yusuf is a kiss with Yusuf, which is to say no matter how much their teeth clack or their mouths miss their mark, it is still Yusuf, so none of them are actually bad.

And Nicolo is distracted. Yusuf is one to spew pretty words whenever the mood takes him, but his aptitude for the spoken word even in the worst --or most drunken-- of times always catches Nicolo off guard; even three hundred years into their relationship.

Every day of my life, Yusuf had said, and Nicolo finds himself giddy and weightless at the idea. Every day of our lives, Nicolo thinks to himself, unable to fight off a smile as Yusuf pulls him in closer, a hand at his neck. Every day.

~

It is a fair while later --after Nicolo has pried Yusuf’s boots off, after the lantern light was blown out, and after they are both under the admittedly threadbare blanket-- that Nicolo lies propped up on his elbows on his side of the bed, admiring the drawing of his mother by moonlight. Yusuf lies on his back beside Nicolo, either asleep or drifting, arm thrown over his eyes and mouth pulled into a frown.

“Are you going to sleep tonight?” Yusuf asks groggily after some time, revealing himself to be awake. “Or must I compete with my own drawing for your attention?”

“You made a mistake giving me this,” Nicolo replies, closing the sketchbook and leaning over to set it carefully on the floor. “I will do nothing but admire it for eternity.”

With a huff, he settles under the blanket, facing Yusuf, crossing his arms to his chest. Yusuf responds with only a smile, and after the silence stretches for a moment, Nicolo adds, “I wish I could give you such peace in regards to your own mother.”

Yusuf drops the arm from his face, squinting sideways at Nicolo. “Pfft. You have already brought me more peace than any other living being on this earth. Give making me the happiest man alive a rest for a few minutes, Nicolo; you’ll give yourself a complex.” He rolls onto his side. “But also roll over. What are you doing lying all the way over there, anyways?”

“Giving myself a complex, apparently,” Nicolo grumbles, doing as he’s told and shuffling onto his side. Yusuf throws an arm over him from behind, snuggling forward and pulling Nicolo back in unison until they are pressed against each other, shoulders to thighs. 

“I am being truthful,” Yusuf murmurs after a moment, low and intimate and close, tired words slurring into each other. He yawns before butting his forehead gently against the back of Nicolo’s neck. “My mother-- I have many good memories of her, and some bad. I would like to forget some and cherish others, but in the end I will likely lose all or most of ‘em, as Andromache has. That’s just the truth of it all.” He yawns again, shifting his grip on Nicolo. “I could draw her if I wish, but I don’t know if even a thousand drawings will ease her memory. And losing memories is a simple trade-off of the life we live, even if we didn’t choose it. I may not keep my memories, but as long as I can keep you, I am at peace with it all.”

Nicolo considers that, tucking his own hands into his sides. As much as their immortality was not a choice-- it was nothing either Nicolo or Yusuf asked for or even really wanted, three hundred years ago, but it was gifted to them anyway. They didn’t ask for each other either, and yet Yusuf was given to Nicolo and vice versa in the same breath that their immortality was thrust upon them.

But of course, unlike the immortality, and unlike all the other positives and negative consequences that came with it, they did choose each other. They chose to put down their weapons. They chose to stay at each other’s side. They’ve chosen that every single day of the last three hundred years. Hopefully they will do so for the next three hundred -- thousand-- years.

He will lose his memories eventually, one day, one way or another. It is like Yusuf said: it is a simple trade-off of the life they live. 

But if it had been a choice-- well. Even the innocent comfort of his mother’s memory, of those late afternoons picking seashells-- those memories are not nothing to him, but if it ever came between keeping them and keeping Yusuf… the choice is obvious.

But there is no choice. The memories will fade one day whether he wants them to or not, whether Yusuf draws a thousand portraits of his mother or not.

Yusuf will not fade. Yusuf will be here. Yusuf has been here, for three hundred years.

Every day of our lives, Nicolo thinks, and smiles.

“You know,” he says quietly into the dark room. “You are a very wise man, Yusuf.”

“Don’t tell Quynh and Andromache,” Yusuf mumbles into Nicolo’s nape. “It will ruin my image.”

Nicolo snorts, smiles, and, eventually, falls asleep in Yusuf’s arms.

[rodem]

I started Smt5 on friday. it honestly feels kinda surreal considering how long it took to come out, wasn’t it first announced as like a switch launch title or something????? Well all the delays were obviously a good thing because the game seems really polished and the global release is amazing (and no one day patch, lol). I haven’t seen any spoilers beside the official pre-release stuff either so going into it mostly blind is really exciting. It’s the first smt where I didn’t do extensive research on “what build should I give the mc?” beforehand. (I’m doing magic because that’s always the safest bet for early game, which is usually the most difficult due to lack of good skills/demons. Though based on the Aogami essences I’ve collected so far it seems like the build the game wants the player to choose is more phys/support orientated...)

I guess here are some of my jumbled thoughts/impressions so far (I just finished the school and got to second section of the Netherworld)

When I first started I was like "omg the menu sounds from DDS are back." Gotta love those menu sounds.

The atmosphere of the Netherworld is soo good. The environment, the buildings, the music (having special sounds to notify the player of new/full moon was such a smart touch. and the full moon sound still gives me chills), the demon sound clips that play, demon npc placement, etc. all top notch. I feel like that desolate and isolated post-apocalyptic atmosphere that smt is known for (and prev best done in nocturne imo) has been perfected here. And the ability to like run and climb through mountains/dilapidated buildings really adds so much to the atmosphere. Like I really feel like I'm stranded on some demon infested post apocalyptic wasteland with only myself and demon allies to rely on! Such an amazing atmosphere!! It's strong enough to overpower the mc's very silly design that I have a hard time taking seriously lol.

And there's so much to explore and so many hidden things to find! I love climbing high places and then jumping straight down to an area only accessible through jumping down. There's actually so much to explore it gets overwhelming. And I'm def still needing to get used to it. Which makes me glad the world map icons are so helpful. I feel like I'm spending way longer in certain areas than I should because I keep getting lost or stuck or accidentally backtrack to somewhere I already went, lol.

So many good qol things were added to the battle and fusion systems. It's really helpful being able to see enemy weaknesses and health bars when you hover over them. And learnable skills being fully visible with even the level they are learned is one of the greatest new additions. (no more having to look up online what skills a demon learns and when!)

SMT games usually aren't that hard by endgame (for me, and on normal difficulty, at least) because you can just abuse buffs/debuffs. But those have been so nerfed this game. Even though I like doing tons of damage and not taking barely any due to buffs/debuffs, the re-vamp was for the best. Also do they only stack twice now? Because I've only seen two up arrows next to the icons. Though it seems the re-work of (de)buffs is balanced by the addition of the magatsuhi meter and new skills. The magatsuhi meter took a bit to get used to because at first I either kept forgetting it existed, or assumed it would take up a press turn. But it's really useful to have and it seems like fun strategies can be played with the magatsuhi skills. And there's always the sense of danger when the enemy is absorbing magatsuhi....

Essence fusion and miracles are also fun to play with. I was surprised fundamental stuff like demons begging for mercy had to be unlocked, but hiding stuff like that behind miracles makes alot of sense. Def the most useful miracle (besides like skill/demon slot increase), is the one that gives your demons bonus exp/levels depending on the exp/levels gained of the fused demons. Very useful for unlocking skills on new demons quicker and also doesn't make me feel bad for not fusing my demons as soon as they learn all their learnable skills. (Which is what I usually do).

The best moment I had so far was getting my revenge on that big bird for ambushing and killing me earlier, by changing my affinities to block force. (Which luckily was perfect for the Nuwa fight as well). The boss battles so far have been really tense. I feel like usually in these games my character is overleveled because I do a lot of backtracking to go back to save points. But since enemies are usually easily avoidable here, my character has been around the same level as the bosses. As my mc is like the only damage dealer I have so have, I keep having to use chakra drops during boss battles and my collection is being depleted. Which is honestly fun because I'm an item holder so I usually never use mp restoration items. Another function I've been using alot so far that I never used a whole lot before unless it was necessary, was swapping demons during battle. I usually do so if a demon I'm using runs out of mp.

In terms of story/characters, well I had like 0 expectations for the storyline going in so my view is already biased. The premise is very funny and probably requires the most suspension of disbelief out of megaten premises so far, imo at least. I do wonder if the whole "we, members of a secret gov organization led by goddamn angels and the prime minister, are relying on hs students to risk their lives and we don't feel bad or weird about it at all" premise will like actually lead to some sort of social commentary/critique. But based on experiences/knowledge of anime/otaku media in general it's more likely just meant to be played completely straight.

One thing I noticed is that the whole "my other half" thing has been brought up by three separate (demon) characters so far. So I'm guessing that concept will play a big role in the story. (and now that I think about it, I guess the mc is Aogami's other half or something....) Well I hope whenever Amanozako finds her other half she gets a new form that's less hideous. Like Amanozako from actual mythology looks so cool, and then the smt one is just "pixie 2.0."

In terms of the human characters. I expected the streamer dude to be really obnoxious and self centered, and he turns out to be the most down to earth one. His whole thing of wanting to fight demons and be a hero and not realizing the gravity of the situation until he's actually fighting and then he chickens out, felt very realistic and relatable haha. His "huge loser" background reminds me of the smt1 chaos hero, which makes me theorize he will be the alignment hero for whatever the chaos faction equivalent this game is (i have 0 idea if they are doing the traditional law/chaos/neutral stuff this game too, but so far that seems to be the case). Though I think his design already looks "chaotic" to me, so I'd prefer if he went against my expectations and become the law representative to me. Worst human character so far is def megane's sister. I disliked her since the pre-release info and she so far seems to be exactly how I expected, a very generic shy, frail girl who is entirely dependent on her "onii-chan." Though hopefully as the game goes on that perception will change and they will give this girl some kind of agency.

Also, I loved the cutscene where mc and Aogami first split and none of the other kids like make notice of or even react at all to Aogami just silently standing there at all. amazing stuff.

[gamewise]

Batman Review

What, you thought the NES was the only one to be graced with a Batman video game? Well, believe it or not, when Sunsoft’s name actually had some merit, they put out a few Batman games thanks to the movie license, and each one was a little different. The NES ran off with one of the best side scrolling license-based video games, the Game Boy got a decent side scroller, and the PC Engine got a... top down game where you literally clean up Gotham? That one is worth a review in itself, but we’re looking at the often overlooked Genesis game. Is this game really that bad that few people talk about it in Batman retrospectives? Absolutely not!

Sunsoft’s Batman on the NES is quite the crazy game, especially considering the liberties they took with the source material. What makes the NES game special outside of this was the attention to detail in the animation, the fantastic soundtrack, and the frantic action. Batman on the Genesis, is different. It takes a few liberties here and there, but moments you expect from the movie are here, such as the Boombox thug, Batman rescuing Vicki Vale, and also Batmobile and Batwing sequences. It’s doing things differently from the NES game by slowing things down a bit, and sticking a little closer to the source material. It’s doing a lot more different by changing up level designs completely to reflect locations featured in the movie, such as the Flugelheim Museum. As such, I find it unfair to compare it to the NES game versus style, as we’re dealing with two completely different fantastic beasts. Instead, we’re going to look at the Genesis version on its own merits, while discussing what the game is doing differently from the NES. 

So what does Batman have going for it? Well, for starters, much like the NES game, you play as Batman, and punch out The Joker’s henchmen. They’re not all unarmed, as you deal with thugs toting guns, bazookas, axes, and swords. There’s even some fire breathing clowns! Each enemy has its own unique pattern of attack, which requires the player to have a certain sense of timing. Much like the NES game, Batman can either punch his way through enemies, or toss Batarangs at them, and here’s the first deviation in gameplay. Batman does not have a ton of gadgets here, instead relying entirely on Batarangs for a ranged attack. Unlike the NES game, Batarangs do not arc back towards Batman, they go in a straight line like shurikens do. They are not just effective on dealing with certain enemies from a long distance, they are very useful on bosses to make your life a little easier. There is a catch to all this, and that’s Batarangs are few and far between, as are health powerups. It’s going to take a little more skill than the NES game to survive as Batman. Batman also has the ability to do a mid-air somersault, which when used correctly doubles as an attack that is insanely useful against bosses. Be careful though, if you don’t time this right, you will either miss completely, or take damage in the process. 

Compared to the NES game, which had punishing level design and boss fights, this game chooses to not only stick to those roots, but Sunsoft have chosen to turn things up a notch. See, Batman never starts at full health, instead, he always starts at half and with only 5 Batarangs. That’s right, for the first time, Batman didn’t have enough prep time to go against The Joker. This means that every time you die, you not only lose a life, but you’re back to half health, and 5 Batarangs. So those 30 Batarangs you went through the trouble of collecting will be gone completely. And believe me, you are going to be frustrated at times with the game’s insane level design, especially with the Flugelheim Museum and its amazing barrage of death traps. 

Not only do you have to deal with falling chandeliers, but there are numerous gaps just waiting for Batman to fall down. While it sounds unfair, there is a way to deal with every situation here, and that is to have a sense of patience. You’re not on a time limit, and all your gun-toting enemies aren’t going to fire non-stop. They need to steady their aim before firing, so you have a window of opportunity to react accordingly. Another thing you don’t have is a checkpoint system, but instead, you just respawn where you died, unless you fell to your demise. Should you lose all your lives, only then will you be forced to start a whole level over. What it boils down to is to study the screen, and watch how enemies attack. Take patience, and nail the timing, and you will be ready to take on almost anything the game throws at you. It may not solve all the difficulty issues though. When you get to the last level, the game throws gun-toting thugs at you non-stop, and they not only stand and shoot, but crouch and shoot. Make sure you have Batarangs handy for the situation, and you should be prepared to deal with it. What you won’t be prepared for are the two vehicle levels.

One of the complaints I had with the NES version of Batman when I was a kid, was no Batmobile level. Here, I get my wish, and in many ways, it’s both frustrating and enjoyable. For starters, there are no real power ups to collect here, instead you get standard health and ammo power ups that appear in both the top and bottom sections of the screen. Any Batarangs you collected up to this point are converted into missiles for the Batmobile and Batwing. The trouble is since the screen is scrolling fast and the health and ammo boxes are the same as regular levels, it is insanely easy to miss them, or even mistake them for an obstacle. This is also the only point in the game you will have a checkpoint system to deal with, but what makes this part more frustrating is that all enemy attacks will do two damage as opposed to one. Which means, you will die in two hits unless you are at full health. The Batwing sequence turns the difficulty up to eleven, as suddenly it turns into a bullet hell with heat-seekers coming every which way. In the Batmobile sequence, you can easily predict where projectiles are going to go, and have plenty of time to react accordingly. Yet despite this, as I played, I began to get a sense of a horribly unbalanced difficulty. I found myself dying too easy

On the NES Batman had an aesthetic of using dark backgrounds with brightly colored sprites and platforms, giving off an almost comic-book feel. Here, the game wants to match the movie’s aesthetic, and the Genesis seemed to have the right color palette for Sunsoft’s goal. More importantly, there is a lot of attention to detail in the animations. The fact that Sunsoft decided that no animation should be spared is incredible, especially for something as simple as a thug steadying his aim. Only thing I’d maybe consider taking away is Batman’s haters gonna hate stride, it looks kind of goofy when you see him striding down the streets of Gotham. Also, I can’t stress this enough, much like the NES game, the audio is phenomenal. Just listening to the soundtrack, you’d almost forget you were playing a Genesis game, since most people associate the Genesis sound chip with nails on a chalkboard. The Flugelheim Museum has a great bassline, and the Batmobile and Batwing levels have the perfect high energy music for a shmup. However, it’s a little disappointing the sound effects department. Everything sounds just a little too quiet, save for Batman taking damage. Everything’s either muffled, or the music winds up taking over the whole show. 

At the end of the day, Batman on the Sega Genesis is one criminally overlooked licensed game. While it can’t quite reach the same heights as its NES counterpart, there are things here the Genesis game does differently to allow it to stand on its own two legs. Had it not been for the unbalanced difficulty, this game would be a bit more enjoyable, but to the uninitiated, this game may feel like nonstop torture. Sunsoft did a solid job here, putting forth the best Batman game they could on the Genesis, and choosing to stick closer to the 1989 film classic. I wouldn’t want to imagine this in anybody else’s hands at the time. Batman on the Sega Genesis needs to be brought up more when discussing early Batman games as an example of what happens when a developer ends up delivering a different experience each platform.

Positives

+ Memorable soundtrack

+ Detailed Sprite animation

+ Batmobile level becomes fun when you get the hang of it

+ Does a great job following the movie

+ Death respawns you where you died rather than forced to a checkpoint as Batman

+ the parallax scrolling in the Batwing level is beautiful!

Negatives

- Unbalanced difficulty may leave you frustrated

- Batwing level does everything in its power to kill you

- Flugelheim Museum has too many death traps

- Underwhelming sound effects end up making the game feel less punchy

- Batman’s walk cycle

Overall: 8/10

[aion-rsa]

15 Best SNES Platformers Ever

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Platformers have long been an entry point for new gamers. Video games may have greatly expanded in scope over the years and now offer so many different genres and experiences that it’s nearly impossible to keep track of them, but that’s actually a big part of the reason why it’s still so much fun to look back at these timeless games where the main objective was often to simply jump from one place to the next.

There is no console that celebrated the brilliance of the platformer better than the Super Nintendo Entertainment System. The SNES may be best known for expanding the adventure and RPG genres, as well as raising a generation’s expectations for video game graphics, but few consoles have come close to rivaling the Super Nintendo’s library of classic platforming titles.

It’s hard to narrow this list down to just 15 games, but from action-based platformers to pure platforming classics, these are the best examples of this timeless genre that the SNES gifted the gaming world. 

15. Jelly Boy 

Putting you in control of a jelly baby (a candy that is popular in the U.K. and surrounding areas), Jelly Boy was only released in Europe when it debuted in 1994. The game has a colorful aesthetic and some unique platforming elements built around the main character’s ability to transform into a myriad of vehicles, tools, and other objects. Those metamorphoses will be familiar to anyone who has played a Wario Land title or Kirby’s Epic Yarn. 

Admittedly, Jelly Boy‘s mechanics can be a little clunky and the controls are deficient compared to some of the later games on this list. Still, you will be hard-pressed to find a more original platformer on the console that isn’t made by Nintendo themselves. You can even play it now via the Nintendo Switch Online service.

14. Demon’s Crest

Released by Capcom in 1994 as the third game featuring the character Firebrand (who debuted in the Ghosts ‘n Goblins series), Demon’s Crest is a forgotten gem in the SNES catalog. It adds some variety to the traditional action-platformer by giving the playable protagonist the ability to fly and shoot fireballs as well as access other upgradeable attacks and maneuvers as their quest rolls along. That feature adds a little Zelda-like adventuring to the mix, and you’ll certainly need those late-game power-ups because this platformer means business.

There are many difficult platformers on this list, but few boast the plethora of boss battles seen in this one. It’s actually similar to Mega Man in terms of its fighting style and jumping requirements, so if you are looking for an alternative to the Blue Bomber that keeps the basics of the genre intact, you’ll have a hard time doing better than Demon’s Crest.  

13. Joe & Mac

Joe & Mac is honestly a fairly basic platformer for its era. What gets it onto this list of the best games in that genre, though, is the creativity and execution of its setting.

The game sees you control two different cavemen who rely on basic prehistoric items such as fire, bats, bones, etc. The bosses are pretty cool (dinosaurs are fun for all ages) and the controls hold up well enough that you won’t ever feel like you have to force the avatar into doing something that the interface simply won’t allow for. The game spawned a sequel that was also released on SNES, but the original is unique enough to get the nod here. 

12. Super Ghouls ‘n Ghosts

Despite what the title may suggest, Super Ghouls ‘n Ghosts is actually the third game in the Ghosts ‘n Goblins series. Like the previous games, this classic sees you battle various monsters and bosses that fit the setting nicely. Although the game is maybe a little too action-heavy to get the nod over the SNES’ best platformers, it uses its platforming elements to elevate the entire experience. 

The difficulty is insanely high and the sheer amount of sprites on screen at once can lead to some lag that only adds to the frustrations of this arduous journey, but the game has a way of keeping things light and humorous when the frustration sets in. How many other games see the protagonist stripped of their armor, quite literally, when he takes too many hits?

11. Donkey Kong Country 3: Dixie Kong’s Double Trouble!

The third installment in the beloved Donkey Kong Country trilogy certainly isn’t hated by many, but it is usually viewed as a step down from the first two games. Whether that has to do with a change in composer for the soundtrack, the inability to play as Donkey or Diddy, or the fact it was released after the Nintendo 64 was on the market, the title’s sometimes mixed reputation often prevents it from being appreciated as a divine platforming experience. 

The environments and storytelling in this game are well-executed. If you’re observant, you may even notice that the developers were trying to say something about the sad state of ape habitats and pollution in the wild. Even if you didn’t dive too deep into that surprising bit of social commentary, you’ll likely find that the platforming in this one remains top-notch and that the overall experience remains severely underrated. 

10. DoReMi Fantasy: Milon’s DokiDoki Adventure 

As the only game on this list that wasn’t initially released outside of Japan, many gamers may not know that DoReMi Fantasy is a whimsical experience that features some of the key elements of Mario and Kirby’s best adventures in terms of gameplay and graphics. Starring a young child whose objective is to reclaim music for the forest, DoReMi utilizes some clever puzzles that may not be unusual for the platformer genre but certainly add to the fun.

The game got a Virtual Console release in North America in 2008, but that’s sadly the best chance many gamers have had in recent years to take a chance on this title. It’s a great example of how people should be more open to experiencing games that weren’t localized the first time around.

9. Donkey Kong Country

Perhaps the most famous game starring Nintendo’s lovable ape, the original Donkey Kong Country was Rare’s first big title for the SNES and practically started their decade-plus long relationship as a second-party developer with the Big N. Tasked with showing off off the console’s pre-rendered graphics system, the crew from Britain proved to be up to the task. Honestly, this game still looks halfway decent in 2021. 

While the actual platforming is not as good as the Super Mario games on the SNES, it offered a different flavor of jumping that is still very much appreciated. The “weight” of Donkey Kong and Diddy means that the platforming is less flighty than in Super Mario games, and the rideable animal buddies you encounter along the way add a little flair to the experience. 

8. ActRaiser

As a game that serves as both an action-platformer and a God simulator, this underrated and forgotten gem from Enix and developer Quintet showed off the visual and audio capabilities of the SNES in the early days of the console. You play as the “Master” who is tasked with building towns around the world and fending off the evils that threaten them. It’s hard to juggle two completely different genres like that, but ActRaiser finds a great balance. 

The game was re-released for the Wii Virtual Console in 2007 but has otherwise been paid little attention in the years since its release. That’s unfortunate because there aren’t many games from 30 years ago that provide this much depth and versatility. Both parts of the experience are extremely solid in their own right, and together add up to become something truly special. 

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7. Kirby Super Star

Even the most ardent Kirby fans would probably agree that the franchise can get a little stale at times. There are only so many ways Kirby can suck an enemy up, transform his powers to match theirs, and ultimately defeat King Dedede. That’s why Kirby Super Star is still arguably the best game that the pink cutie pie has ever starred in.

Featuring eight different games within the game, the genre-mixing in this one is really off the charts. There are racing elements, adventure tones, and shooting sequences amongst the different sections of the playthrough. The experience was so beloved that it was eventually remade for the Nintendo DS as Kirby Super Star Deluxe. There is something for everyone in this package, and it shows the best parts of Kirby’s history.

6. Mega Man X

The original run of NES Mega Man titles are arguably still more famous than all of the others, but Mega Man X just has more of what makes those games great. It retains the eight bosses and weapon upgrades that can be completed/acquired in whatever order the player chooses, and it even has that same incredible soundtrack that the Blue Bomber’s adventures are always famous for.

Mega Man X‘s graphical upgrades admittedly take some of that eight-bit nostalgia out of the experience, but the game ultimately makes up for it by offering new gameplay experiences. Jumping on walls and acquiring upgrades to defensive maneuvers gives Mega Man an even more badass skillset, and the game generally does an excellent job of emphasizing the “platforming” parts of its action-platformer mix.

5. Super Castlevania 4

Super Castlevania 4 is actually a kind of soft remake of the original game, and the developers at Konami did a great job of making that game more digestible for newcomers while keeping all of the iconic elements from the classic NES title.

The Castlevania basics are all here (you still control Simon Belmont, equipped with his famous whip and ax, and battle through the game’s 11 stages before reaching Dracula), but an ideal mix of combat and platforming makes this one of the most irreplaceable platformers in the SNES catalog. It’s still an airtight action-platformer experience in 2021. 

4. Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy’s Kong Quest

The second game in the DKC trilogy took all of the best parts of the first title and refined them to create a truly unique platforming game that was a lot more than fancy graphics (a reputation the original game has had a hard time shaking). Diddy’s Kong Quest expanded upon the game design that fans loved while keeping the jungle hijinx, masterful soundtrack, and weighted platforming intact. 

That last part is what truly separates the middle installment of this franchise from the other two. Many people have said that these games were sometimes more style than substance, but after playing through the myriad of environments on display in DKC 2, it becomes clear that this title has endured over the years because its tight mechanics are executed at a high level.  

3. Super Metroid

If this list were just a ranking of 2D games or if it encapsulated the entire SNES library regardless of genre, Super Metroid would most likely take the top spot. Alas, this icon of game design settles in the third spot because it isn’t the best example of a “pure platformer.” It’s more of an action/adventure affair, though the game’s platforming elements are still as satisfying now as they were in the 1990s.

What separates this game from so many that have tried to emulate it in the nearly three decades since release is that every ability upgrade and every part of the map fits together with nearly flawless foresight and execution. It’s never a hassle to re-explore a section that you’ve already seen. The game has a masterful flow that is incredibly modern and perhaps even more popular today because of the prominence of this design style on the indie game scene. 

2. Super Mario World

With its flawless controls, colorful sprites, cheerful soundtrack, and ageless platforming, Super Mario World is the title that all other 2D games in the genre are still compared to. The extra graphical power of the SNES gave Nintendo the opportunity to expand upon Super Mario Bros. 3‘s best ideas while exploring new concepts that simply weren’t possible before.

That is why this game remains so playable. Super Mario World combines the most enjoyable elements of the NES Super Mario classics and then elevates them to fully realize the world that Miyamoto imagined when this basic concept was created. It still doesn’t make sense to have a plumber jumping on top of turtles and occasionally getting lost inside of a house full of ghosts (those damn Boo mansions still haunt me), but when you combine this much creativity into one package, you have no choice but to admit how special it all is.

1. Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island

Shigeru Miyamoto and his team knew that it was futile to try and surpass Super Mario World simply by emulating it. So when developing the sequel, they made the decision to craft an entirely different type of platformer in which Mario isn’t even the main protagonist. The concept was bold, but the execution needed to be flawless if the game was ever going to be more than another disappointing follow-up. 

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It’s safe to say Yoshi’s Island exceeded all expectations. Putting Yoshi at the forefront of a platformer that included mini-games, evasion, puzzle-solving, item collection, and the most timeless color palette in gaming history was brilliance personified. Yoshi’s Island is not as famous as its older sibling, but its daring creativity and irreplaceable charm have inspired many to argue that it is the better game in retrospect. Whatever your opinion is, the fun and escapism of the green dinosaur’s finest hour (as well as the horrors of Baby Mario’s screams) will be remembered until the end of gaming.

The post 15 Best SNES Platformers Ever appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[alkhale]

Shoot the Ball (Ushijima x Reader) Ko-Fi request

Guuuurl can I please get like a bunch of accidental run in encounters with ushiwaka plssss I feel like he doesn’t get much love

Here’s the problem with a school like Shiratorizawa.

It’s a big school.

Fucking huge.

Massive campus yet elite, trimmed student body with a very personal class average of students to teachers. Private tutors are offered in every nook and cranny of the libraries, and the dorms are luscious and extravagant.

Unknown to many of your classmates but most of your team members are aware, you got into Shiratorizawa on a favor from your childhood kyudo coach and a hefty scholarship you had to claw your way towards over a bunch of other studious bookworms. 

You’re the leading star on Shiratorizawa’s kyudo club, the ochi from your tachi group, the last person to shoot, the person who guides the rest of the team. You also hold the position of captain in your third year at Shiratorizawa, and kyudo is all you have ever known and love.

But, but, but, but, at a school like Shiratorizawa where a classic, high performance sport like kyudo, a traditional, beautiful sport like kyudo should be fairly popular, your club and your teammates’ performances are always outshone by more high-energy, easily watchable sports.

Shiratorizawa’s sports expect nothing but the highest level of triumphs from all their divisions. From basketball to dressage on horse, each club is required to perform admirably. If you perform well, the more funding you got for your club, the more prestige, and all good things.

Shiratorizawa’s kyudo club is actually high on the list, last year your team placed first at the Inter High and made it to the top four in nationals. Despite all this, despite the fact that you even scored consecutive kaichus, hitting all your marks and not missing a single arrow, making waves in the kyudo community and getting higher renown for your team, your headmaster still refused to acknowledge your club.

You’d come to him, white headband tied around your head, posters ready, armed and prepared to fight tooth and nail for an increase in funds and a spot at advertisements because if your fellow student body just knew about the sport, more people would join, more people would watch, and your club wouldn’t be in danger of closing down after you graduate or declining—

“It’s just not popular!” your headmaster clapped you over the shoulders himself, beaming. “Keep working hard though! Good job last year!”

Because popular and television-worthy, massive poster worthy, constant overhead announcements in the morning and the afternoon about matches, constant offered opportunities for extra credit, belong to certain sports at Shiratorizawa.

Shiratorizawa’s Boys’ Volleyball team.

Every morning you came to school and stared in disgust, not out of a personal vendetta for the guy, but for his whole damn team for taking the spotlight for the past three years you’d been here at Shiratorizawa, at the giant, blown up poster lining your school’s walls, posted in any classroom you two might have together. He flooded the school’s daily bulletin, online articles, even the god damn konbini near your house when your returned home for the holidays.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Volleyball star, playing for Japan’s national youth team—which was something you did drool over because nationals was your goal for kyudo—and even top of all his classes.

You kinda hated this guy and you didn’t even know him.

But it was no matter because this year you planned to take your team all the way to the top. Everyone at this damn rich school was going to known kyudo and love it, damn it. They were going to sing your praises all the way down the halls, line up outside the shooting range to get a peek at your beautiful team and fall in love with the bow.

All the way to the same stage this rich, boastful school’s especial crowning achievment and pride, enough to get them their own stupid bus, enough to get them their own damn gym, enough to get them their own damn cheer squad and—

Your first real, personal meeting with Ushijima Wakatoshi goes something like this:

I don’t need more protein, I need better results. You frowned, staring at the picture of the protein drink you’d been texted that was apparently quite popular these days, according to your fellow teammate. She constantly sang its praises, promising nothing but the best and urging you to start getting into it.

“Your practice schedule is too rigid!” she lectured, shaking her hands at you as you notched another arrow and took aim. “You’re going to shoot arrows till you’re an old maid! No one will marry you at this rate!”

“Kyudo will marry me,” you said, completely serious. “I’m marrying the best kyudo archer of this era and no one else.”

“He’s over fifty!”

“I like them older anyways.”

While normally you would have ignored your vice captain in favor of your own home remedies, your joints were acting up lately, specifically your left wrist and that was never a good sign. You had a feeling the tautness to the new string you were trying to break in wasn’t doing you any favors either. You needed to keep an eye on it in case it got worse.

I can’t bring this team down.

The school’s mini-grocery was fairly empty at this hour. Most students were back at the dorms and anyone still lingering around should’ve just finished with their own club practices.

The rows were designed so items could be taken from either side, not just one. You browsed the aisle, tempted by the choco-snacks but willing yourself to put another batch of fruits in instead. Have to treat my health like second nature. Results don’t come from potato chips.

“Finally,” your eyes zeroed in on the brightly colored bottle. A hefty size, meant to be poured out in cups and drunk daily. You had no idea how it would taste, but by your vice captain’s face, it couldn’t be too great.

You crouched down, reaching for the last bottle on the lowest row.

A massive hand engulfed yours at the top of the bottle’s cap, swallowing your hand whole.

“Holy shit!” you shrieked, ripping your hand away—only to find yourself unable to do so with the massive hand still laid down over yours. You hit the floor on your ass, gaping in horror at the monstrous palm and the calloused fingers and fearing this was finally the moment you were dragged into some abyss by an unknown creature and killed—

Eyes like olives, flecked with gold.

You stared, caught, unable to move for a second. You’d always thought his eyes were brown. You never noticed the weird lining to them that gave them a sharper look, like an eagle or—

“My bad,” Ushijima. Ushijima Wakatoshi said, his voice a deep, resounding rumble in his chest like a goddamn bear. 

He crouched there, sitting back on his heels, directly across the aisle from you, peering through the metal shelf like some kind of monster trying to fit through a crack. His massive hand and massive arm barely had to leave his body to reach the same bottle of protein you’d both been shooting for. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

All at once, the flood of posters assaulted your brain. The blaring announcements, the squealing girls, the headmaster, the volleyball buses with his face printed on the side, the magazines, the articles and—

You blinked, once, twice.

His lips parted.

You ripped your hand out from under his with a hefty amount of force. The action sent you flat on your back and you were sure he’d gotten a front row view of under your skirt but you really didn’t give a crap.

“Have it!” you barked out, awkwardly scrambling to your feet. You grabbed your basket and Ushijima blinked once at you, slowly, face monotonous. “You need it more anyway, jerk!”

You huffed, shoulders puffing up. Ushijima was silent on the other side of the aisle, wordlessly taking the bottle of protein with him as he stood.

You gaped.

HE’S A LIVING TREE.

Your neck actually craned a bit, straining to look up at him and he stared down at you from the top of the aisle.

His arm promptly stuck itself through the gap in the shelf, offering the drink to you.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, voice devoid of emotion. “You should take it.”

For some reason that irked you.

You forcefully—struggling with great difficulty—shoved the drink back to his side through the shelves. Ushijima blinked once, slow down at you and you bared your teeth at him before hoisting your basket up into your arm and storming to the check out where you flew through your wallet, aggressively paying the lady at the counter, nearly running into a smirking redhead at the doorway and rushing the rest of the way to your dorm where people kept asking why you looked so damn mad.

“Who was that?” Tendou chirped, sidling up to Ushijima. “A fan?”

Ushijima stared out the still swinging door and calmly examined the bottle of protein in his hand.

“No,” he said.

“...you gonna continue with the sentence or what?” Tendou prodded.

I hate this time of the year. You frowned, burrowing deeper into your muffler as you fought the early morning chill. Several other students were trudging beside you, sleep in their eyes as you all headed to the regular meeting for club time slots. You always showed up as early as possible to get the best dibs for your club. 

You absently kicked a pebble in your way, wondering how you should organize practice this week. You wanted to brush up on your form again and—

Why was everyone looking at you like that?

“Good morning.”

It took you a moment to realize a massive shadow had engulfed your own. You stared at your feet for a moment, rubbing your eyes before slowly turning.

Ushijima Wakatoshi bore down on you, face cast in dark shadows from the early morning darkness, puffs of steam clouding by his mouth where he breathed.

He looked like a monster.

You felt your hackles raise, nearly jumping out of your sneakers as you started to backpedal away from him, “Hah?”

“Good morning,” Ushijima said, looking completely unfazed by the crack of dawn and cold.

You continued to hurry backwards toward the gym while barking back at him as Ushijima took calm steps forward—since you were both headed the same way—every three of your steps one of his own.

To anyone else, it looked as though a bear were advancing on a chihuahua.

“G-Good morning to you too!” you snapped. “Bye!”

“What?” Ushijima asked.

“I said bye you—”

“We’re still headed the same way.”

“Stop following me then!”

 - - - - - - - - 

You smirked, hefting the pile of posters into your arms. This was it, this was going to work for sure. No way anyone could ignore the please join flyers if you were pinning them up all around the school, and the team had worked hard to make it stand out and eye catching, appealing to all genders and interests.

Your wrist was starting to bother you a bit, so you shifted the papers to the other arm. I got careless trying to get the bow turn again. I need to slow it down and ice it tonight.

Who says we’re last on the funding list? You grinned, grabbing your tape. They can’t ignore us with a bunch of members—

“Good afternoon.”

You screeched, dropping your stack of flyers onto your foot. They scattered the hallway.

Ushijima calmly turned his gaze downwards, staring at the colorfully illustrated flyers now flooding both your feet.

Join the kyudo club!

“You,” you snapped, urging your heart to calm and shoving your tape back into your pocket. You hurried, grabbing the flyers and restacking them as he stood, towering above you. “What the heck do you want? Do you get some kind of kick out of scaring people or—”

In one smooth, swift motion, Ushijima had crouched down beside you. You stared, gaping in disbelief as his large hands—he has such big hands, I’ve never seen anyone with hands that big, this guy is all muscle and—moved across the floor, gathering up the papers in one fell swoop. His bangs shifted slightly over the slight furrow of his brows. 

Ushijima looked at you, quiet, somber, unreadable as he carefully put your stack back together.

He looked weird in the school uniform. You were so used to seeing him in his volleyball one. He seemed like a different person. Oh, you’re the type that leaves the first button undone.

“I did not mean to scare you,” he said, slow, with that rumbling voice of his. It sent a timbre down your spine.

Ushijima remained silent, staring calmly at you, seemingly content with the silence.

“Y-Yeah, well,” you started. “My bad then.”

You quickly stood, lifting your stack. You stared down at Ushijima for once as he calmly looked up at you and promptly ran off without another word, unable to figure out the weird awkwardness that sat on your tongue whenever you dealt with him.

I mean, it’s not like I really… hate him right?

Why the hell am I running into him so much?

You just needed to shoot some arrows and you’d feel a lot better.

-----------

You shot too many arrows.

You frowned at your throbbing wrist, giving it a look of utter betrayal. The nurse had said to give her a few minutes for her to come back with some pain killers. You were only in the infirmary this time because the pain had gotten to a point where you’d actually dropped your bow in the middle of a draw.

Prelims are coming up. You glared harder at your wrist. You just needed to ice it and you’d feel better. I can’t let them down.

You were taking them straight to the top and then it’d be kyudo posters this school would see, not just stupid Ushijima’s face and—

“(L/n)-san.”

You screeched, nearly toppling off your stool. Your wrist smacked into the counter and you hissed in pain, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

Ushijima stood in the doorway of the infirmary, staring at you with furrowed brows.

Why him, why now? You grunted in greeting, gingerly rubbing your throbbing wrist, turning away from him toward the window.

You heard the door close behind him, focusing all your attention on anything else to ignore the massive presence behind you.

“What happened?”

WHY IS HE TALKING TO ME. 

“Oh, this and that,” you said simply, vaguely, struggling to find better words. You… you really didn’t hate this guy personally or anything, but it was personal at the same time? You didn’t know how you felt about him and it was making you confused.

You hated being confused.

Ignoring any and all other social cues, Ushijima took a seat on the stool beside you, back and posture impeccable. His hands calmly set on his knees. His volleyball uniform like second skin against his form, revealing nothing but miles of muscle and hardwork.

You stared at him in disbelief.

Ushijima faced forward, face unreadable.

….okay. You awkwardly glanced to the side, rubbing at your wrist. Way to make it even more awkward. Does this guy not socialize much or what?

“Uh,” no! Don’t talk to him! Just keep your mouth shut! “What happened to you?” you said awkwardly.

Ushijima’s face relaxed an inch. You blinked in surprise.

“My knee,” he said. “Coach made me go get it checked out.”

“...me too,” you said. He looked at you. You looked away. “Not my knee, I mean. My wrist. My vice captain will have my head if I didn’t. I told her I could just ice it.”

“You should be more careful,” Ushijima said.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“I’m sorry?”

“You do not need to apologize.”

You stared.

Ushijima motioned to your wrist, not taking his eyes off your face, “Your fans would be disappointed if you were unable to perform.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“You do not need to apologize,” Ushijima said again, shaking his head. You gaped at him. “I would be disappointed. I wish to see your kaichu again.”

Your brain short-circuited. You were left to dumbly look at Ushijima. He seemed to take pity on you and turned fully on his stool, several heads taller, looking down at you before he calmly said—

“I am a fan of your archery.”

The two of you sat there in silence.

Steam shot out of your ears as your face exploded into red. Ushijima watched in silence as you toppled over your stool and back onto the ground.

- i also stan one giant tree