#top 10 pick up lines guaranteed to get you In Their Pants

[glass-crabs]

aquire a date

go out in the middle of a large lake in a small motorized boat

stop the engine

"have you ever watched the talented mr. ripley?"

[windless-hurricane]

Sparks

Chapter Four: A World Where We Can Grow Old

A Reiner x Reader x (Eventual) Jean Fanfic

• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

SUMMARY: After the fall of Shiganshina, you joined the military along with your brother. You had hoped to bring peace to the world by doing so, but the world was a cruel place. You seemed to lose more than you gained, but there was always someone - someone who made losing just a bit…easier. You hoped you could keep them forever, but was there a guarantee in this world?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here’s the fourth chapter! While things are a bit slow right now, the story’s really going to pick up after this chapter!

WARNINGS (for entire series): Language, explicit violence, talks of death, suicide, trauma, and mental illness, graphic scenes involving blood and/or death, and sexuality.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

TAGLIST: @lovethemilkteasis @grayxblaze @theyoungblood13 @flowersgirl02 @noodlenerd101 @hanabihwa @drowned-pathetic-rat @bestgirlb @bleepop @miinnttyy @1-800-thanos @lovelime @usernamehere91

SPARKS MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

You and your brother stood beside each other as a stream of smoke poured into the sky. You wondered where it came from, how it got there, why it was there, and your questions were answered once a colossal, red hand slung itself over the wall and grabbed onto it.

You flinched uneasily as your eyes widened in fear.

What’s happening? What’s going on? What is that? Is that… Is that a-

Then, a large, skinless face peeked over, its teeth clenching and its gaze terrifying.

It was. It was a Titan, but how...how could it be that big? It was impossible.

Your body trembled as you reached for Viktor's hand. He met you in the middle, gripping your hand back tightly. You could feel the heat and sweat from his skin, showing just how mortified he was.

“V-Vik-tor, I…” you stuttered, but you couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Your mind was going wild and you could feel your heart clenching in your chest.

What-what do we do? Where’s the Garrison Regiment? Where’s Jannick? Where’s dad?

Anybody?

Then, a sudden force shoved you to the ground as the Titan kicked through the wall, sending chunks of it flying.

People screamed, pushed past each other, and ran for whatever time was left of their lives. However, you couldn’t. You were frozen.

Everything was a blur and your ears filled with static.

What should I do?

However, you didn’t have time to ponder that question as a boulder headed straight for you.

This is it. I’m gonna die.

“(Y/N)! Move! (Y/N)!”

__________________________________________

“(Y/N)!”

You gasped yourself awake, sitting up in a panic.

You were panting heavily with sweat dripping down your forehead. You barely managed to wipe it away with your shaky hand. Matter of fact, your whole body was shaking.

“Are you okay,” Sasha asked, gazing at you with worried eyes. Admittedly, no. Your heart was still beating out of its chest and you felt your head begin to pound. However, you couldn’t dwell on something that has already happened. It’s over.

“I’m fine,” you responded, but the hoarseness of your voice didn’t match your words.

“Are you sure,” she pushed. “Because you don’t look like it.” She gestured to your hand and you were surprised to see that you had been clenching your blanket so tightly that the whites of your knuckles were showing. You hadn’t even realized that you were gripping it.

You let go, your knuckle cracking in the process.

“Yeah,” you nodded and you were about to relax until a new form of panic arose within you. “Wait, Sasha. Are we late?”

“Uh, well…” she trailed off. “We’re about to be.” Your eyes widened as you immediately threw yourself off the bed.

“You should’ve said that to begin with,” you exclaimed, shuffling around for your uniform. “We can’t be late for combat training!”

__________________________________________

You and Sasha made a run for the training grounds and were lucky to see that the rest of the cadets were still waiting for Shadis’s instruction.

You sighed a breath of relief as you lined up beside her, not noticing Reiner standing on the other side of you.

He unconsciously looked you over and noticed your disheveled appearance. You had a bad case of bed hair and a few buckles of your uniform had come undone. He also noticed the sheen of sweat covering your face and how you were breathing a little heavier than normal. Either you just woke up late or something else had happened. He wasn’t sure which.

As Shadis made his way up to the speaking platform, all side conversations came to a halt and he turned to face you all with a hard gaze.

“Alright, maggots,” he shouted, making your ears ring. “Today, we are engaging in combat training! While some of you may think this is unnecessary as you obviously can’t use hand-to-hand combat against a Titan...” You and a few cadets snickered. “Shut up!”

You smirked as he continued on. “As I was saying, if you’re lucky enough to make it into the Top 10 and join the Military Police, you won’t be dealing with Titans. You’ll be dealing with people, criminals, thugs. Likewise with the Garrison Regiment. Therefore, it is important to know basic fighting skills and how to defend yourself in any situation… Do your meager minds understand?!”

“Yes, sir,” you all replied in unison.

“Good, now listen for your partners!”

“Sir, if I may ask, why can’t we choose our own partners,” you asked suddenly, causing your peers to gape at you like they did at orientation. However, you were unfazed, even after Shadis shot you the same death glare as before.

“No, you may not ask, Bauer,” Shadis growled and you attempted to suppress your smile. “Now, run laps until I’ve finished. Afterwards, get your ass handed to you by Braun.”

“Yes, sir,” you saluted, shooting a glance at Reiner as he smirked at you. “If he can even beat me,” you countered, speaking so quietly that only Reiner could hear you.

As you jogged past him toward the dirt track, he watched you with amusement.

You certainly weren’t like the other girls in the Training Corps. You somehow managed to be sweet, fiery, and so sure of yourself all at once. You always spoke your mind and were seemingly fearless, choosing to mess with the scariest person there without a care in the world. Finally, you were awfully kind, taking care of your brother whenever you could and indulging in his own mischievousness, even if it meant the both of you potentially getting trouble. He even saw you do the same with Sasha and Eren.

You truly were something else.

He grinned faintly as he found you smirking back at him.

“We’ll see about that, hotshot,” he murmured.

__________________________________________

Once Shadis had finished announcing everyone’s partners, you jogged over to Reiner, panting slightly.

He raised his eyebrows at you as you came to a stop a few feet in front of him.

“How was the jog,” he teased and you scoffed in response.

“Nothing compared to the swimming I had to endure on the first day,” you admitted, clearing your throat.

“Why do you always annoy him when you know full well what he’s going to do?” The question would have sounded condescending coming from anyone else, but you could tell he was more amused than anything.

“I don’t like him,” you stated bluntly. “And…” your eyes began to soften. “I think we ought to have some fun while we’re here.”

“Huh,” he breathed, taken aback by your answer.

Fun? In times like these, he thought to himself.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you chuckled. “Fun? In times like these? I know. The world is so dark these days, but I think we need to be reminded that we’re still alive. We need to laugh, smile, feel happiness. Most importantly, be human and how could we do that if we’re scared or in grief all the time? I still don’t like him, but if you all are entertained along the way, fine by me.”

He gazed at you admirably, unsure of how to process your words. He felt...conflicted more than anything.

“You really are one of a kind, (Y/N),” he commented, his voice coming out smoother than how he felt on the inside.

Your cheeks blushed faintly as you grinned.

“If I didn’t know any better, Reiner, I’d say you were flirting with me rather than trying to fight me,” you cooed and he let out a chuckle through his nose.

“And what if I was,” he suggested with a glint in his eyes.

“I'd still say to fight me.”

You raised your arms in a fighting stance and he quirked his eyebrow at you.

“I haven’t seen a stance like that before,” he observed, putting his own arms up. “Where’d you learn it?”

“Enough talking!”

You charged at Reiner with a plan already in mind.

I’ll go for a punch towards his face. Once he decides to either block it or pull away from it, I’ll sweep his legs right from underneath him.

You went for your punch, but he unexpectedly didn’t do either. He instead grabbed your fist tightly, not allowing you to pull away, and twisted your arm behind your back. He pulled you against him and your face heated up as his chest pressed into you.

“I don’t think you expected that, (Y/N),” he whispered, his breath fanning your cheek. “I thought I wasn’t going to be able to beat you.” You honestly thought so too, but you were overconfident. It made sense that he was able to stop you. He was confident too, but just the right amount. He also knew how to fight.

Although your arm was starting to hurt from his grip, you still smirked with excitement.

“The fight doesn’t end until one of us is pinned down,” you stated, stomping down on his foot.

He groaned as he released his hold on you and you threw your head back, coming into contact with his chin. As a result, he lost his footing and you took the opportunity to crouch down and swipe your leg underneath his. He fell to the ground and you threw yourself on top of him. You bent your right leg at the knee and dug it into his thigh, holding his other leg down in the process. You used your left foot to keep one of his arms down. Then, you pinned his wrist with one of your hands and used the other to keep his head against the ground. You smiled, letting out a quick exhale.

“I pinned you.”

“Let’s make a deal,” and you gaped down at him in surprise. Why did he look and sound so nonchalant despite his position?

“What?”

“Whoever’s pinned down last has to do something for the other,” he explained.

“If you can even-“ Before you could finish, he propped his knee up from under you and your foot slid off his wrist. He gripped you from your collar and threw you over, causing you to land on the opposite side of his head. You went to do a kip up, but he grabbed you by the shoulder of your jacket and dragged you until you were within straddling range. He got on top of you as he smiled faintly.

“That’s what we have to find out.”

After that, you both spent the next half hour pinning each other down until Shadis told everyone to stop.

You gasped for air as you pinned Reiner’s wrists above his head and used your knees to keep his legs in place. He was breathing heavily as well, his stomach on the ground and his cheek pushing against the dirt.

“I-I win,” you announced, tightening your hold on him as a reminder.

“I can see that,” he strained, barely looking at you from the corner of his eye. “You win.”

You sighed in satisfaction and let him go, finally standing up. You wiped excess sweat and dirt off your forehead, watching as he turned over and sat up with a grunt.

“You’re an impressive fighter, (Y/N),” he complimented. “I think you’re as good as Annie.”

“Well, you’re not too bad yourself,” you admitted. “I haven’t had a fight like that in awhile.”

“So, then,” he started. “What do you want?”

“Huh?” You blushed slightly as you scratched the back of your head. “I haven’t thought that far ahead… What did you even want?”

“I wanted you to answer a question of mine,” he revealed, a darkness creeping on his cheeks.

“Just a question,” you asked in disbelief. “All of that for a question? What is it?”

“Why'd you join the military?”

“That question again? Well, I guess I never answered you to begin with,” you remembered. “Silly, you could’ve just asked me instead of letting me beat you up.”

“I didn’t know how to bring it up again without it seeming weird,” he confessed and you shook your head.

“It wouldn’t have. I like talking to you.”

You extended your hand out to him and the moment his fingers brushed yours, you felt what could only be described as a jolt of electricity running through you and you took a step back.

You looked down at him and he stared back at you with a similar expression - utter confusion.

Did he feel that too?

“Um, sorry,” you apologized, laughing slightly. “It must’ve been static.”

“No worries,” he assured with a chuckle and you stuck your hand out once again.

He took it graciously and thanked you as you hoisted him up. You nodded, gazing at him right after.

“I joined the military because I want to live in a world where the only concern is growing old,” you finally answered. “I don’t want us to worry about walls, Titans, or whatever the hell else could be out there. I just want us to be happy and have the freedom to live our lives to the fullest... Does that...sorta answer your question?”

It did, it really did. So, why did Reiner still feel a pang in his chest? Why was he hoping for a more selfish answer? Why did he want your answer to not be as noble as the one you gave? Why did he want you to be...less human?

In the end, he knew the answers to all these questions. He didn’t want to feel guilty for what he had done and what he was going to do...but everyone was making it extremely difficult. (Y/N) especially.

As you both smiled at each other, one question plagued his mind.

Why were the Devils of Paradis…so human?

[thiswasinevitableid]

57 sternclay nsfw? i can see stern complaining to a stranger that his ex complained about how weird his kinks were while dumping him

Here you go! 57: “we’re fighting over the last box of half-off valentine’s day chocolate and end up in a “who has it worse” battle.

For being in a mountain town in the slow season, the seasonal candy shelves of the Kepler Walgreens are bare. Were it 10 am on Valentines Day, Joseph would be in a panic. At 10 p.m, it feels like yet more proof this trip is utterly doomed.

But he didn’t become one of the top agents in the Department of Unexplained Phenomena by being unobservant. On the top shelf, pushed towards the back, is a bag of Reese's hearts and a bag of M&Ms. Thank you, years of training.

Being six feet tall helps too.

He’s so locked onto his target that he doesn’t notice the other person in the store until their hands smack into each other en route to the bags.

“Sorry, uh, lemme just get these and I’ll get out of your way.” A voice as deep and sweet as summer honey reaches his ears.

“I’m sorry, but I was going to buy these.” He starts pulling the bags towards him, only for the other guy to grab them. Joseph glares; the man trying to relieve him of his last solace looks like the kind of lumberjack you see in recordings titled things, “Log Pounders IV” or “Bear Hunting.”

“Look, buddy, I really need these so can you, like, find some other bags?”

“These are the last two. And I guarantee I need them more.” As long as he keeps a pleasant voice and gives no ground, this should go smoothly.

“Unless you got dumped this month, I don’t think you do.”

“I got dumped seven hours ago.” He says through an increasingly tight-lipped smile.

“At least your ex isn’t tagging you in a bunch of photos bragging about his new boyfriend.”

“He can’t, because he probably only just got back to his apartment in the rental car. The one I’m now stranded here without.”

“Pfft, just call an Uber or something.”

“It’ll cost several hundred dollars to get home!”

“You look like you can afford it.” Brown eyes flick from his hair down to his shoes, “some of us have to use half-price candy to soothe our wounds. You’re probably staying at the kind of fancy B&B where they have complimentary booze.”

“I would be, except their was a fuck-up with the reservation. Which my ex took as proof this was time to end things, and is the reason I’m dragging this all over town.” He kicks his ergonomically designed, rolling suitcase hard enough that it bumps into his adversary.

“Better he gave you some bullshit reason than the truth, which mine was all too happy to tell me. You can have these when someone you tried to make happy tells you he thinks you’re ‘too soft’ and that if only you’d manned up he woulda stayed, whatever the fuck that even means.”

Goddamnit, Joseph is not about to lose this argument--and his candy--on top of everything else.

“I’ll trade you that for being told you’re: too exacting, far more uncool than your job implies, too anxious, too invested in your work, that your whole personality is flawed and, just for extra fun, that your kinks are too weird and no one in their right mind would ever want to sleep with you if they knew them ahead of time.”

The other man’s hold on the bags loosens. Then it returns, stronger than before, as he grumbles, “Please, no one’s kinks are that weird.”

“You have no idea what mine are.”

“Then how about you give me a demonstration, huh?” Lumberjack snaps.

Joseph's common sense finally catches up with his thirst for comfort and, apparently, conflict.

“I, I’m sorry, did you just offer to fuck me in the middle of a fight over discount candy?”

“I....” the man lets go of the bags, chuckles, “yeah, I did. Fuck, I’m sorry, it’s been such a shitty day that my mouth decided it was gonna do whatever it took to stay in that fight.”

Joseph laughs a little, slumping against the shelf, “I guess it’s nice to know I’m not the only person in town whose Valentine’s Day didn’t go to plan.”

“No kidding. Though, uh, I didn’t get dumped this month. It was three months ago. He did tag me in all those photos today though.”

“That’s so rude.”

“Not as rude as leaving your boyfriend stranded in the mountains.”

B-grade pop hits fill the awkward silence between them.

“I, uh, this might be way outta line, but I got an idea; if you buy the candy, I can take us back to my place and bake something with it. That way we can both enjoy it, and you won’t be stuck wandering around in the cold.”

He runs a quick is-this-a-serial-killer scan of the man in front of him.

“Sure. But just so you know, I’m opening the Reeses in the car.”

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

“Feeling better?” Barclay, his host, wipes stray cupcake crumbs from his lips.

“Much.” He polishes off his second coffee-cocoa cupcake with M&Ms in the batter, lifts his coffee cup, “this place is lucky to have you.”

Barclay blushes the same way he has every time Joseph compliments his cooking, home, or taste in books. They’ve spent the last ninety minutes in the kitchen of Barclay’s small, A-Frame cabin, one of eight laid out in a half circle behind Amnesty Lodge. The cook explained that the cabins were for staff or long term residents, and that while the Lodge sometimes had vacancies, this week had seen them swamped.

The rain alternates between pleasant pitter-pats and drops that could kill a small bird, so Joseph is incredibly grateful to Barclay for giving him a place to shelter. When he thanks him, the cook shrugs with a little smile, “you shouldn’t leave nice things out in the rain.”

As they’re cleaning up the dishes, Barclay passes him a plate and says, “You can stay here tonight. If, uh, if you want. The couch isn’t much, but it’s dry and I’ve got a bunch of spare blankets.”

“That’d be great, thank you. And, um, thank you for being so nice to me, given how we met.”

“Eh, no one who’s in a Walgreens after ten is in a good mood. And, uh, it’s nice to have someone to talk with. I’m kinda the quiet one of my friends, and work is mostly calling orders and stuff.” He pulls the coffee pot from the heat, “can I top you off?”

“Yes, please.” His caffeine tolerance is so high a few cups late at night doesn’t mess with his sleep. Barclay is sticking with tea, something scented like cardamon and comfort.

They move to the couch that’s clearly been re-covered a dozen times, Barclay only getting up to turn on some music; delta blues, if Joseph’s ear is right. It’s not until the clock strikes one thirty that Joseph notices they’re sitting so close that their knees bump whenever one of them turns to talk.

“Okay, I gotta ask” Barclay’s brown eyes shine sweet and playful, “what exactly was so weird about your kinks that your dickhead ex went out of his way to mention them?”

He thinks a moment, scanning his body and noticing he’s more relaxed than he’s been in weeks, including all the times he spent with his ex. Something about the faint scent of dish-soap on Barclays hands, the gentle smile that makes Joseph certain that--for all his bulk--if Joseph told him to roll over and show his belly, he’d do it in an instant, the way he doesn’t rolls his eyes or shy away when Joseph talks, all of that makes him calm. Which makes him bold.

“Wait right here.” He hops up, grabs his bag from the door and pulls it over to the rug by the couch. All he has to do to reveal his secret is lift his pajamas.

“Holy fuck.” Barclay leans forward, “you really came prepared.”

“It was supposed to be a romantic getaway. I...we’d never used any of this together, but I hoped we might this time. It’s, it’s not his fault, I know my tastes aren’t for everyone, and we had plenty in common in bed. But he went through this whole thing where he said we should share our deepest fantasies. Apparently wanting to be choked is fine, but wanting to fuck Mothman is not.”

“That’s what this one is.” Barclay picks up one of the two dildos, black with lots of swirling ridges.

“That’s actually my dragon one. Um.” he holds up the ovipositor toy, “this one is supposed to be mothman.”

Barclay squishes one of the silicone eggs, “that feels kinda nice. What else did you bring?”

His genuine interest is not helping Joseph keep his hopes under control.

“The other toy is the ‘bigfoot’ model. And this is, um, this is my newest one, I was so excited I pre-ordered it. It acts like a cock-sleeve, but this part here is supposed to mimic a, um, a knot.”

“Like the idea of getting knotted, babe?” The cook’s voice is a little deeper than when he last spoke, and rather than pulling away he’s inching into Joseph’s space.

“Yes. I, um, I’m getting the sense” he shifts so his hands are on Barclay’s knees, “that we might have something in common besides our taste in leftover candy.”

“I packed all this so carefully” he brushes their lips together, “it’d be a shame to let it sit unused.”

Barclay scoops him into a kiss, growling happily when Joseph instantly parts his lips. His beard is soft and tickly under Joseph’s palms, and his mind takes the thought of getting beard-burn on his thighs and runs so far with it that he almost misses what Barclay says next.

“In that case, you better decide if you want me to open your ass up so I can fuck you with a knot, or if you wanna do it yourself.”

“I prefer to do it myself.”

A second kiss, a bit gentler this time, “bedroom’s at the end of the hall. Get naked and wait for me there?”

“Roger that, big guy.”

When Barclay growls this time it’s rougher, jumping out of his chest and seeming to surprise him.

Joseph undresses as Barclay stops off in the bathroom, rifling through the medicine cabinet while Joseph folds his clothes. He’s down to his boxers when he remembers there is a conversation he needed to have before it hit this point.

“You trying to get me to rip those off with my teeth?” Barclay grins as he sets some condoms and lube on the bed and starts taking off his pants.

“I, um, there’s something you should be aware of. We don’t have the same, um, set-up.”

Barclay furrows his brow, gets his meaning, then nods, “no problem. If you’re okay with that part of you being involved I, uh, I just got a really, really good idea for what to do.”

“It’s not always the case, but tonight I definitely want it involved. I want you inside me as many ways as possible.”

“Fuck yeah.” Barclay tosses his shirt into the laundry, “get your ass open enough to take that knot.”

He slips the condom on, douses it with lube, and presses the first finger in, discovering that he's unable to stop complimenting Barclay for even five seconds while he finishes disrobing. The flush under his dark chest hair is unendingly charming, as is the little whine he makes at Joseph telling him he likes how big he is.

“I, I’m serious, ahhn, it’s rare to find someone taller than me and I really like it.”

“Feeds into the monster thing?” Barclay crawls beside him, laying down so he can kiss him as he works the second finger in.

“In a way.”

A deep, rumbly chuckle that has Joseph fucking himself hurriedly, “Don’t be coy, babe. You like the thought of something big and hairy getting a hold of you and not letting you go until you’re dripping cum.”

“Holy shit, yes” he gets the third finger in, sighing as Barclay nuzzles his neck.

“Well, I’m not bigfoot, but I’m betting I’ll do just fine.”

“More than fine.” Joseph kisses him, feels him smile in a way that melts his heart like cheap chocolate.

“Got some other theories about you, babe, but you gotta wait until you’re on my dick to hear ‘em.” Barclay sits up, stroking his cock in time with Joseph’s hand, “fucking-A, can’t believe your ex didn’t wanna stick around for this. You look like a fucking porn star; we oughta record you getting fucked in your suit and sell if for big bucks.”

He moans, pulling his fingers free, “Fuck me now. Please.”

“Fuck that’s hot.” Barclay works the sleeve down over his cock, sits up against the wall, “come sit in my lap, facing away.”

Joseph straddles him, gasps when the head of his cock presses in. He prepped well, but all the same he has to take his time wiggling his way down. Barclay caresses him, grunting and whimpering whenever he moves, breath prickling the hairs at the base of his neck. It’s heavenly.

When he hits the knot, Barclay rubs more lube on it, but it stays outside of him as he grinds on it. Between moans, the cook manages to say, “want me to start the next part?”

“Yes, please.”

Barclay loads the ovipositor with the three eggs, praises Joseph for being a good boy when he spreads his legs to accommodate the head of the toy.

“I, I thought you had more you were going to tell me?” He tilts his head awkwardly to kiss Barclay’s shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Barclay slowly works the toy in and out, doing his best to sync it to the rolls of his hips, “I think you’re the kind of guy who doesn’t just want one monster; you want ‘em all.”

“Variety is, ohgod, part of a healthy sex life.”

“I don’t mean one monster on one day and a different one on another. I think you want them all at once.”

“Oh yes, oh! Ohohoh” he kicks his legs as the first egg pushes in, “fuck, Barclay, please keep going.”

“Whatever you want, babe.” He nuzzles Joseph’s hair, “that’s how I came up with this plan; seeing all those different dicks made me think you’d, fuck, you’d like me to pretend there was more than just me fucking you.”

Joseph nods, clinging to Barclays arm and bearing down on the knot.

“Can just see it now; you got yourself lost in the woods out here, go looking for help only to find a whole bunch of monsters waiting for you. Spend the rest of the night pressed into the dirt and leaves while every cryptid from, fuck” he bucks his hips, “from here to Canada had their turn.”

“Shit, shit” the knot starts pushing in, “y-you’ve got my number, big guy.”

“Yeah?” Barclay squeezes the base of the toy as he talks, causing the remaining two eggs to push their way in, Joseph’s body clenching around them, “you want a night where all your good for is being fucked, where if you beg for a break you get a bigfoot fucking your throat and werewolves cumming on your chest instead of them all mobbing you at once?”

“Shit, yes, YESohfuck” the knot enters him as Barclay shoves his hips down, “ohmygod that’s good, fuck, I feel so full, you’re so smart, this was genius, fuck you know how to treat meAHannnfuck, shit.” He holds on to Barclays arm’s as the other man fucks him with abandon.

“Oh I know, babe. Know I was fucking right. You wanna be claimed, wanna be owned, wanna be bred by a whole fuckin pack-”

“Jesuschrist” it’s hard to breathe at the pace Barclay sets, his body aching to cum but not quite able to get there. He squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing frantically at his dick as Barclay loses himself in the fantasy.

“You’d be so cute, leaves in your hair and cum on your chin, taking it all and begging for more. Good thing you’re so needy, you could tear a pack apart with folks fighting over who gets to fuck you, fuck, Joseph, baby, you’re so fucking good, gonna be so fucking good to you, fuck, fuck” he shoves as deep as he can while he cums, and in the haze of pleasure Joseph swears claws prick the skin of his chest. Just the thought of that sends his own orgasm coursing through him, his body tensing and twisting on Barclay’s cock, making them both moan from sudden overstimulation.

“S-sorry” Barclay pants.

“Nothing to apologize for, just physiology, here, let me ow, ow, okay maybe I should have relaxed more first.” He’s free of both toys, but that was right on the edge of too painful. He waits for Barclay to take off the sleeve, then rolls the bigger man so his head is on his chest.

“Your ex didn’t know how good they had it.”

“Thanks, babe.”

He smiles, “I like that. No one ever calls me something that informal.”

“Call you it whenever you want. Babe.” Barclay kisses his arm, “you can, uh, stay in bed if you want. We don’t have a ton of time together so I’d, uh, well, I’d like to spend as much of it with you as I can.”

For the first time, Joseph wishes his vacation would last longer.

“Agreed, big guy.”

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

“You said you had my new assignment, sir?”

“Yes. Agent Stern, you will be going to the town of Kepler to investigate the events described in this file.” Agent Hayes passses him the folder.

“Understood, sir.”

Joseph manages to keep his smile to himself all the way to his desk.

[jj-lynn21]

Roll with It: Bill & x-reader/Princess

This idea inspired by as ask to @lihikainanea​ Read her great piece  about Bill and Tiger here.  Warnings: Fluff, smut, dash of angst mood song: The Killers - When You Were Young  

Bill grumbles under his breath as you both get ready for his little brother, Osssian’s, 10th birthday party. You are super excited to be going skating again. It has been years since you breezed around a rink. You are pretty confident it will all come back to you once you lace up your leopard skates with the pink wheels.  Bill seems more reluctant to go at all, "I don't know why the kid wanted a roller skating party. Maybe, ice skating but roller skating is so American." "Excuse me?" You raise your eye brows.

 "Sorry, Princess," Bill cringed under your gaze. "The last time I skated I fell on my ass multiple times. Alex and Gustaf were laughing at me the whole time. That was ice skating. This roller skating seems like it will be much more difficult."

You hold back a laugh, "Its easier than ice skating in my opinion. You can always rent roller blades. The wheels are in a line more along the line of ice skating. I had rollr blades but I prefer skates.  You know I hate to be cold."

Bill wraps his arms around you, still just in his black jeans, "I would keep you warm enough in the cold."

You put your hands on his chest looking up at him with a smile, "I know you would, Bill." You pat his chest and try to pull away even though you know damn well you will not be released until he wants to release you. "Put on that leopard print button up that matches my tank top and skates and everything underneath." You wink with a giggle. 

"Fuck, I love that set." He held your face tilting it just a little more to smother his lips to yours as he walked you back towards the bed. "Let me see."

You life your arms up for him to get your tank to off revealing the leopard front zip bra. He lays you back on the bed. As he unzips the bra with his teeth  his hand movies down to unsnap your pants to start to pull them off. Bill take your left nipple and then your right into his mouth making them hard and tender to every flick of his tongue. 

"This won't get you out of going skating," You rasp breathing heavily between each word.

He lays kisses down her sternum, "Not trying to get out of anything, Princess. Trying to get into something for comfort before trying something new." 

You can't help but giggle at his line as he pulls your jeans off and tosses them to the floor. He runs a hand over the front of your damp panties. Then grins as he pulls the zipper that runs your entire slit. His hard cock twitches at the sound the zipper makes as it glides so easily revealing your warmth. 

He leans over you. His eyes flash over you with that mischievous boyish grin sliding across his face as he takes you. Your knees bend up around him. Your hips push into his every thrust. The deeper he goes the more you whimper out your pleasure. You have the perfect rhythm together as you bury your face in his chest and nails in his shoulder blades. "fuck, I need to pull out and come on your tits," He pants. "We have to be more careful than we have been."

You just nod in agreement almost at your apex. He pulls out dripping before he wanks a few times covering your chest with his seed as he let's out a satisfied groan. As he leans down to kiss you, his fingers rub down to your throbbing clit so you get the satisfaction he always guarantees. Bill swoops you up to go take you shower after.

Within a half hour Bill opens the front door for you to go out before him. Maybe a little late, but damn it was worth it. When you get to the skating rink, Kolbjorn runs over throwing himself on Bill. Bill picks him up hugging him tight. 

The eight-year-old is over joyed to see Bill, "I can skate so good big, big, big brother. I only fell on my bum twice and I laughed with big brother. He's 10 now so he skates better but not much. We are trying not to let our bums hit the floor." He giggled.

"Cool, little man, " He sits his youngest brother down. "Where is the birthday boy?"

"He's out there skating with Gustaf," Kolbjorn pulls you and Bill's hands. "Come skate with us. There is a bounce house to but you can't wear your skates in there." 

"Okay little man," Bill chuckles. "Go skate. We will get our skates on and meet you out there."

You go sit along the wall near the lockers across from the skating floor. Bill kneels looking up at you as his hand glides down your calf to pull off your platform sneakers. Then he put on your skates. As he laced them Ossian skated towards you. He jumped on Bill's back. "What's up brother?"

Bill grabs his skate pulling him down to the floor tickling him as the boy giggles uncontrollable.  "I wasn't sure a ten-year-old boy would still giggle so silly."

"Help, my Princess," Ossian's high pitched squeals echoed through the roller rink. 

"Your, Princess?" Bill chuckled evilly. "She is definitely my..."

You tackle Bill tickling his neck and under his arms where you know he is most ticklish. 

"Stop," He laughs letting his brother go pulling you under him instead. He pins your arms. "You are in trouble later little girl."

You giggle, "I know but I had to save the birthday boy."

"Fair enough," He lets you up.

Ossian grabs your hand pulling you towards the skating floor, "Skate away quickly while we can, Princess.”

"Alright, alright Ossian." You look to Bill.

"Go on, I'll be out there when I get my skates on," He sits and takes his boots off. 

You let Ossian roll you along. He catches his sister Eija's hand, who is holding Sam's, who is holding Axel's who is speeding around the ring on his light up skates. As a corner comes Alex whips the family around flinging everyone to speed down the straight away. As you  pass the skate floor entrance you see Bill clinging to the lockers. 

You skate over to him quickly, "How are you doing, sweet boy?"

Bill turns leaning against the lockers with his arms crossed. "I'm cool."

You reach your hand out, "Let's go than."

You pull him easy enough but as soon as he attempt to move his feet, they slide in different directions. He starts to fall. A large mushroom shaped seating area catches his bottom. His arms flailed a little before they rested palms on seat. 

You hide a chuckle behind your hand. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Bill grumbles.

"How about you just let me pull you," you smile. "I could get one of your brother's to help get you use to the skates?"

"NO!" he stood. "We can do this." 

"Alright," you said calmly pulling him towards the floor. 

Bill grabs the half wall as soon as you step onto the floor. He stepped off the carpet on to the hardwood floor. His feet slip every which way. 

"Put your feet like this," You put your feet heels closer together and toes out slightly I you learned when you were four and taught other children. He is the biggest kid you ever taught. "Just scissor your feet." 

Bill manages to let go of the wall with one hand. He tries doing as you instruct. His legs wobble. He gets a little more comfortable as the low wall ends. You take his hands smiling as he slowly keeps going forward. You skate backwards. When his family whipped around a corner laughing Bill's hands pull from yours, arm swing wild as his skates went askew and he fell right on his coccyx. You went right down with him when his skate wheel lodged into yours.

"Fuck," Bill yelled. The music was to loud for anyone else to hear him. "You alright, Princess? I took you right down with me." 

Gustaf spins coming to a screeching halt near you. "Don't go to far without me, Kolbjorn" He yells to the youngest Skarsgard before turning to you and Bill. "You two alright? Maybe you need one of those wheel walkers Kolbjorn is using, Bill?" "My ass bone hurts like hell," Bill complains. "How are you so good at skating Gustaf?"

"The kids skate with Alex every time they visit him in New York and I go along when I am in the States." Gustaf explained. 

"Sorry, Bill." You try to save face for him. "I just took your big ass down with me when I fell. Maybe I need some lunch and I'll get some ice for you. Thanks for checking on us Gustaf." You get up easily.

"You want some help off the floor little brother?" He amends his statement quickly so Bill doesn't think it would make him seem weak. "Since you were hurt when you fell it might make it more difficult for you to skate to the side."

Bill nods. His pride as busied as his coccyx, but he knows you and Gustaf won't tease him like the others might, especially Valter. The two of you help Bill off the floor as Kolbjorn follows. 

"Are you okay?" The little one asked surprised one of his big strong brothers were being helped off the floor.

"Sometimes you just fall down," You said to him with a giggle. "And when one falls, whoever is near them does to. But we are fine."

"Yeah, I'm cool little man." Bill smiled and Kolbjorn hugged him. "Go skate with Gustaf. Maybe we will join you after a small break." 

"Cool," Kolbjorn pulls Gustaf back to the floor and left the wheeled walker there. He was a little wobbly but Gustaf kept him up, well mostly.

"How about I get lunch?" You suggested.

"Oh hell yes," He starts to take his skates off.

"You will be putting those back on later," You insisted.

"Yeah, alright." Bill grumbled. "But I'm just going to sit over at a table while we eat. Can you get me some ice for my back."

"Sure, baby boy." You kissed him sweetly without having to stretch. That is one of the best things about skates, they make you a little taller. And you would show him how that benefit him after lunch. You had a few good memories of things you did when you were a teenager that would put him in a better mood before he tried to skate again.

You skate up to the concession stand. Valter is leaning on the counter flirting with the worker. "Don't let that innocent smile fool you, he is devious."

She laughs. Valter smirks at you," What's up Princess?"

"Not much buttercup," You said whimsically. "Can I get a bag of ice, a hotdog, two slices of pepperoni pizza and two Pepsi's?" You said politely to too counter person.

"You got enough to feed my brother; are you going to eat anything?" Valter licked his lips watching the counter person get things as he talked to you. 

You laughed, "Maybe he will share a nibble or two."

 The counter person handed you a small hotdog bun bag full of ice, "This is the best I can do."

"That will be just fine," You take the bag.

Valter looks at you suspiciously, "Did Bill fall on his ass already."

"I lost balance and pulled him down," your eyes darted. 

"Sorry, I missed the theatrics," He chuckled. "Watch yourself out there, Princess."

You put the ice on the top of the drinks in the box the counter person put everything in so you could carry it all easier. "I sure will." You smile as you started to skate away. You turned your head back. "You two be careful also. No making out behind the counter." You started towards Bill.

"What were you guys laughing about over there," Bill inquired gruffly. He picks up a piece of pizza shoving half of it in his mouth as soon as you put everything down on the table. 

You push the ice pack down to his tailbone before you sit across from him.  "I was teasing him and the counter person he is flirting with. He did ask about the ice. I said the same thing we told Gustaf. He won't bother you about it." 

You lean over to suck some sauce off the corner of his mouth. Then you take a sip of your drink before picking up the hotdog. It is more of a sausage dog. A bit longer and thinker than a regular hot dog. You don't even think twice about putting a large portion in your mouth before taking a bite.

Bill smirked as he watched you and took a drink of his Pepsi. "You enjoying lunch?" 

"Sure," you said innocently. "How's the pizza?" 

"Good enough," He bites into the second slice.

You finish your food and sip on your drink. "I practically lived at the skating rink when I was a tween and in my early teens. Do you know what I did when I was not skating?"

Bill shrug, "video games."

"I played those sometimes," A grin streamed across your face. "Places like this on Friday and Saturday nights with no young kids or families were freedom from some rules. I started smoking in the bathroom here. I smoked at football games also but here it seemed less of a chance getting caught."

"I started about the same time, I guess." Bill smiled wistfully. "We had similar places to feel a little freedom from parents. I'm sure we did similar other things at such places." 

"Maybe," you said coyly.

"Yeah," he starting grinning. "Were you one of the girls that put it all at on display with whoever you liked or did you find a small little hideaway for some secret seduction ritual of young lust?"

"Stop," you blush.

"Secret place is my guess," He looks around. "And you are petite to fit..." 

A blush erupts on your cheeks as it always had done when you were young. Bill gets up and holds his hand out. You take it. He pulls you over to the arcade area. 

"Somewhere around here, right?" He grins.

"Maybe," You blush harder. 

He pushes you between two video games, "Oh look, you still fit."

You giggle, "This is ridiculous. You would be completely disappointed in the teenage me but probably tell your friends I sucked you off. " 

He cups your face in his hands, "What asshole made you think that? I never did anything so vile.  I was happy with whatever I got.  And if a cute girl," He stroked your hair smiling. "never as cute as you as far as I remember, decided she did want a  mouth full of more than a hotdog, I never said anything. And I would have defended her honor if anyone started saying shit."

You smile, "Where were you when..."

Bill kisses you strong. You were interrupted by Valter clearing his throat and the counter person giggling. 

"I thought you said 'No making out'?" Valter chuckled.

Bill turned with his arms crossed, "I think you are mistaken Brother. grown adults would not do such a thing in public."

Valter smirks, "Yeah, alright. I was mistaken. We just want to play the video game on this side you  'adults'. "

Bill pulls you out of the corner on your skate, "I think you have more skating instructions for me after I get my skates back on, Princess."

"Yes, I do," You said matter-of-factly. "Have fun you two." You wave bye to Valter and his new friend as Bill pulls you along on your skates. As soon as you are far enough his brother won't hear you tell him, "If Kolbjorn still is not using the roller walker I think you should try with that."

"Alright, I'll try one more time." Bill sat to put his skates back on. "But I might never do this again."

"If you can't skate by the end of the evening you won't ever have to try again." You grab the roller walker. "I promise."

When Bill puts his weight on the walker the pcv gives a little. It makes him stand straighter to try not to put his weight on it as much.

"Just slowly roll your skates in and out." You suggest. "Don't pick up your feet. Just glide."

The tall lanky Skarsgard looks gigantic using the small walker. But within an hour he is holding your hand. His other arm out to the side for balance. You turn to skate backwards holding both his hands eventually.

"See you got this, Bill," You encourage.

He smiles goofily. "Not that bad, I guess. Can we play in the balance house now." 

"Sure, I think you have earned that." You pull him to the bounce house in the middle of the floor.

 Both of you sit on the floor to take your skates off before going in to bounce around, laughing like a couple of kids while everyone else is skating. You do this until the party is over. You let Bill walk in his socks off the floor instead of putting skates back on. Over all fun was had by all. And Bill learned to skate, at least slowly

[etlunainmorte]

❄❄❄

***

*The Best Chocolate Chip Cookie*

 

Prep Time - 15 minutes

Cook Time - 15 minutes

Chill Time - 2 hours

Total Time - 30 minutes

Yield - 24 cookies

Serving Size - 1 cookie

*Ingredients

1/2 cup ( 113g ) unsalted butter, melted

1/3 cup ( 66 g ) granulated sugar

1/2 cup ( 104g ) packed light brown sugar

1 large egg

1 teaspoon ( 5ml ) vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 cups ( 186g ) all - purpose flour

1 1/2 cups ( 255g ) chocolate chips ( semi - sweet or milk )

*Instructions

1. Note: This dough requires chilling.

2. Place melted butter in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment ( or a large bowl if using a hand mixer ). Add granulated and brown sugars and mix on low speed until the mixture is smooth. Mix in egg and vanilla extract and mix on medium speed until combined.

3. Mix in baking soda and salt, then slowly mix in flour and mix just until the batter is smooth and comes together. Be sure to scrape the sides of the bowl during mixing. Slowly mix in chocolate chips.

4. Line a cookie sheet with a silicone baking mat or parchment paper. Scoop 2 tablespoon balls of dough onto the cookie sheet. Spacing doesn’t matter because you will be chilling the dough. Cover with plastic wrap and chill for at least 2 hours.

5. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line a second cookie sheet with parchment paper or a silicone baking mat.

6. Remove the chilled cookie dough balls from the refrigerator and space them 2 - inches apart on the cookie sheets. Bake ( 2 tablespoon sized cookies ) for 11 - 15 minutes, or until the edges are a light golden and the tops are no longer glossy. Let cool on the cookie sheets at least 10 minutes before removing.

*Recipe Notes

Try using white chocolate chips or a combination of milk, semi - sweet, and white chocolate chips instead of all one flavor. You can even substitute butterscotch or peanut butter chips, or add your favorite nuts. Just keep the amount of add - ins to 1 1/2 cups.

*Nutrition Information

Serving: 1cookie | Calories: 150kcal | Carbohydrates: 20g | Protein: 1g | Fat: 6g | Saturated Fat: 4g | Cholesterol: 18mg | Sodium: 83mg | Potassium: 16mg | Sugar: 14g | Vitamin A: 155IU | Vitamin C: 0.1mg | Calcium: 20mg | Iron: 0.6mg

*Nutritional information not guaranteed to be accurate

***

❄ Three Wishes ❄

***

IV

***

V has been staring at the peanut butter cookie in his hand for the past half hour.

Admittedly, the events that took place earlier during the day in the Red Grave shopping district has been weighing heavily on his mind. 

Yes, the atmosphere ( despite the place being jam - packed with Christmas holiday shoppers ) was perfect, the movie ( although the majority of the scenes were not very tolerable ) was eye - candy, the food ( which was uniquely and refreshingly Japanese for him ) was great, even the little trip to the music shop ( which almost tempted him to buy a new violin of his own ) was calm and peaceful.

All in all, it was almost perfect. Almost.

What really took the perfect moment from him was that Christopher Lancaster guy. Again.

After defeating the evil doctor almost two months ago, V seriously thought that it was the end of that fiend. He truly believed that the evil doctor was rotting away in the fiery pits of the Underworld, his flesh being fed to a multitude of famished Demons. Alas, he was wrong: it turned out that he, like you, was reincarnated, and, apparently, he was your former lover.

The ride on the way back to Swan Lane was the most awkward moment that V has ever experienced. Although Nico's driving was normal for once, V, or Griffon, wasn't able to say anything to lessen the tension in the air. In fact, one could safely say that the demonic bird and the noisy Artisan were both tongue - tied for once. Despite knowing that his familiar ( who was still feeling salty after being left alone in the house ) and the Artisan ( who was feeling extra curious and mischievous to know the status of your relationship with him ) teamed up to spy on your very first date with V, the poet just couldn't bring himself to scold either one of them. He knew it would only make you even more uncomfortable, and the least thing he wanted was for you to feel bad.

The one hour ride from the shopping district to your house ended with you nodding to him and entering your house without even saying a word. So, naturally, V was worried sick about you.

What happened between you and that man that made you feel like that? Did he hurt you? Humiliated you, then left you? Lancaster did have strong opinions about your domestic personality. What did he mean by that, anyway?

Wait a second, V thought as some awful feeling made his stomach turn. Did Lancaster - ?!

"WHOA, V! WHERE WILL YA BRING THAT COOKIE?!" Griffon, who was quietly observing V from his perch for the past half hour as his master stared at the said cookie in his hand, squawked and flapped his wings erratically, positively shocked upon witnessing the poet's weird behavior.

V noticed how his actions must have startled the bird, opened his mouth wide, and finally ate the cookie whole.

Hmm, yum,...

V swallowed and turned to Griffon. "That man must've done something that made her feel that way." He said quietly as if someone's listening or spying on him.

"Well, yeah, of course he did! What do ya expect?" The bird answered. "That man is evil! I should've plucked his eyeballs out but, that crazy bitch stopped me and called me a chicken!"

Griffon's words successfully started the fire, making V's eyes widen in both shock and anger. The man grabbed his metal cane from the sofa and started making his way towards the front door, sweater, loose pants, fluffy slippers, and all. The man would've walked outside without any protection from the harsh cold weather if it weren't for Griffon's intervention.

"WHOA, WHOA, WHOA! WAIT!" The bird flew towards V at a break - neck speed and yelled at his master's face, desperately trying to prevent the poet from storming outside and killing himself in the process. "WHAT DO YA THINK YE'RE DOIN'?!"

"What I'm doing,... is putting an end to that miserable man's life once and for all."

"I get ya! I get that he may have done somethin' to sweets - HEY, LISTEN TO ME!" Griffon screeched as he tried his best to stop V from going outside by grabbing onto his shirt with his talons, almost ripping the white fabric to shreds.

But, the poet would not be stopped. Despite the demonic bird's efforts, he still made his way towards the door. He grabbed the brass door knob and turned to his familiar one last time before throwing it open. "I swear: if he so much as touch a single strand of her hair, I will send him back to the Underworld where he belongs! I don't care if I die in the process! I want to see him suffer and I don't care if it's the last thing I see before I die!"

"NO, NO, NO, V! YE'RE BEIN' RECKLESS! YE'RE - !"

But, Griffon was too late. V managed to open the door, and,...

The poet and the familiar stared in disbelief at the figure standing before them. Slightly shivering and partly covered with snow was none other than the lovely female that almost drove V to murder.

"(Y/N)?" Both V and Griffon muttered in disbelief. 

How long have you been standing there in the cold?!

Were you,...

Were you listening all this time?!

You smiled at him as you held a small container closer to your chest. "Hi, V! Umm, did I, ahh, come at the wrong time?"

"No! I mean," V stuttered as Griffon quietly retreated to his former position near the shelves. Stepping aside to make way for you, he spoke, " ... please, come in. Make yourself at home."

"Ah! There's no need. I won't stay for too long. I,... just wanna ask for a favor, actually."

"What favor?"

Griffon, who deliberately heard this, sneaked back towards V and positioned himself just behind the door next to the poet to listen to the conversation. Shadow, who seemed to have picked up on the situation, as well, only squinted her eyes as if to let her fellow familiar do his thing.

"You see, uhm," You began quite awkwardly. As used as you were to talking to the opposite gender, you still couldn't shake the unfamiliar feeling you have when talking to V. There seemed to be something in the poet, in the way he looked at you, touched you, and spoke to you, that pulled you in like a moth to the lamp, or the lamb to its shepherd, and you have mixed feelings about this, honestly.

However, it was not the right time to be musing about the mystery that was V. Taking a deep breath and inching closer towards him, you spoke once more. " ... I've heard from Nico that you can play the violin."

"Oh! Why, yes, of course!" V, who caught a whiff of your lovely flowery - scent cologne and going internally crazy about it, confirmed with a huge smile on his face. "How can I help you?"

"Can I invite you to work tomorrow? Do you still have that violin of yours?"

"She's asking him out!" Griffon whispered back to Shadow. After hearing this, she stood from the fluffy carpet and made her way to the demonic bird to also listen in on the conversation.

"I'm afraid that - "

"You can't come?" You whispered, feeling sad and disappointed with his answer. "It's okay, though. I understand. It's all too sudden, after all."

"The shy boy is ruinin' it!" Griffon savagely whispered, making Shadow raise her paw in an effort to push her master forward towards you.

"No! W - what I mean is," V stuttered ( at the same time Shadow’s paw almost made contact with his bottom ), wanting to clear out the confusion. " ... I'm afraid I don't have a violin right now. I would love to go but,..."

You knitted your brows, your mind deep in thought. Then, raising a gloved hand and pointing at the ceiling, you looked back at him with your eyes wide open. "My partner has one! I mean, she left it there, I know! You see, we have a thanksgiving party tomorrow, and we're short on participants. My partner was supposed to play the violin during one of the book reading sessions. But, she said she needed to take a break.”

"Is that so?" His confused face finally clearing up and his tensed shoulders finally relaxing, he smiled and nodded. "I can do that, yes. I will come."

Griffon and Shadow peaked just in time to see you leaping in the air in excitement and grabbing V's sleeve with your free hand as you smiled all too brightly at him.

"Thank you so much! Oh, God! You don't know how relieved I' am to know that you'll come."

"Anything for you, my dear." V answered, once again making your face heat up. "What time shall I pick you up?"

Oh, why does he have that killer, adorable, smug smile?! "Oh, uhm, would seven in the morning be okay? The program won't start until eleven but, we still have to prepare."

"Seven o'clock, it is."

"And here, gran insists I give you this."

V received, yet, another jar of cookies. Classic chocolate - chipped, this time. And it's still so warm and looked so delicious,...

"Could you, please, deliver my gratitude to your sweet gran?" V asked, knowing how much Adelaide missed her own grandfather, who looked exactly like him.

"Will do." You smiled at him. "See you tomorrow, V!" Taking a step back, you waved at him and finally went back home.

"Good night, my dear." V said, also waving at you as he was watching you make your way safely to your house. And when he turned around, he noticed both Shadow and Griffon looking up at him.

"Ohoho, someone's gonna get fat this Christmas!" Griffon mocked as he focused his golden eyes on the jar at V's hands. "Hey, we're invited, right?"

***

❄ @la-vita , @clevermentalitybeliever , @v-vic , and @birdgirl69 . ❄

***

❄❄❄

***

[chyrstis]

I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I’d like you) 6/10

Meant to get this one up over here a little sooner, but the added time didn’t hurt one bit, and it let me make some more formatting tweaks. I might just keep on tweaking this whole thing forever at this rate.

Oh, and the sunglasses? Entirely unplanned in the initial draft until I caught a reference to a movie that couldn’t be further removed from this or FC5. But I owe that absurd movie so much, considering how important those darn glasses are now in hindsight.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw x John Seed

Rating: E (but only for Ch. 10, the rest are a solid T) Word Count: 3.2K  

Link to AO3!

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10

—

Sharky steals a boat. It just happens to be John’s boat, and when it’s damaged along with his boathouse, John proceeds to lay out a means of having Sharky pay him back. [No Cult AU]

———–

“Still went with that red, huh?”

John set the paint cans down next to him, and glanced up at the boathouse. “If you recall, I had my heart set on red. Back when it was first built I hadn't thought much of it, but…maybe I was a bit more fond of it than I remember.”

“That don't mean you couldn't have changed it.” Sharky pried open the paint can with a spare screwdriver, and handed it off. “Gone for something different, but still memorable. Like orange, or yellow.”

John’s lip curled. “Yellow?”

“Yeah. Banana yellow, or shit, bright purple.”

“I was taking your opinion on this seriously, you know. Up until the word ‘banana’ slipped out.”

“Heh, slipped.” John’s flat look only made Sharky snicker more. “But can you name five things, like well-known landmarks that are yellow?” John opened his mouth, but Sharky didn’t let him finish. “And green’s my go-to, ride-or-die color, but yellow? Two thumbs up.”

“So you say.”

“It’s just the kind of thing that’ll net you a bunch of admirers. Numbers ripe for the picking. ‘Cause it’s, you know. Oozing all of that appeal. Like peel, as in a banana.”

John let out an exasperated groan, and Sharky might’ve punched the air. Maybe harder than intended. “You did not.”

“I did. Don’t think I won’t find a way to do it again. It’s the Boshaw way,” Sharky replied with a wink.

Rolling his eyes, John huffed. “I hate you.”

The two dipped the paint rollers into his chosen red and started spreading it, painting wide red lines over the wood as they took them up the sides from top to bottom. The patches weren’t going to be done in a single coat, but each one streaked. Made Sharky’s job harder for him as he laid the paint on thick, only for John to try and correct him.

His pointed betrayal when the next five strokes didn’t come out just as perfect as he claimed they would had Sharky cracking up on the spot.

“Nobody’s perfect,” he offered, but John kept on trying over and over until he was able to make it work.

It was hot for a late-fall day, though. Or maybe it was just the combination of the sun and the work, but he was sweating. Needing some other way to cool off than the water stashed in the cooler with them, Sharky stepped back, only to catch a view of the river.

Now that was a source guaranteed to cool him off fast.

Taking his shirt off, Sharky mopped his face with it, eyeing the water. Stared at it just long enough for the internal battle in him to be fought and won, and he made his choice.

Balling his shirt up, he took a shot for the table in the distance, and missed it completely. Missed it with his hat afterwards too, but the wind threw him off there; whipped under the hat only to send it flying off elsewhere, and Sharky watched it tumble onto the grass.

John raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Going for a swim.” Undoing his belt, Sharky slid it off and tossed it to the side. “Seriously, the water at this time of year’s gotta be perfect. Just cold enough to shock the system, but not enough to send you straight to the hospital.”

That had John shaking his head at him.

“Guess we’ll agree to disagree here, compadre, but you tell me that ain’t looking the slightest bit nice.”

His pants came off right after, and to John’s credit his eyes didn’t leave his face. “It might.”

“Well, between you and me? Might’ll do just fine,” Sharky said, smirking at him.

Shedding his shoes and socks, he went right for it. Didn’t think anything at all of how cold it was looking to be, and dove into the water. The sharp temperature difference hit almost immediately, making him suck in a breath once he surfaced; the chill of it washing right over him.

But the longer he was out there, the less it bothered him - taking the edge off in just the way he hoped. It was a great feeling, and he kept paddling around close to the pier before noticing that John hadn’t made a move to follow him. Not that he’d expected him to, but that didn’t mean some friendly peer pressure was out.

Sharky reached up to snag the end of the pier and hoisted himself up. Resting on his forearms as John walked to the end to join him, he tapped a fist against the wood.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Hell yeah,” Sharky replied, grinning up at him. “Seriously. You wanna cool off quick? This does it.”

John tapped his fingers on his thigh as he stood there, and actually looked like he was considering it. He crouched down to better talk to him, still more than a few feet higher overall.

“I’ll take your word for it, but I have a feeling you’re just trying to give me a nasty shock.”

“Why’d you say that?”

“Because I can hear your teeth chattering from here.”

Snapping his mouth shut, Sharky rubbed at his lips and tossed a glare John’s way. Then an idea hit. One that had him trying not to grin behind his fingers, and dropped the smile before lowering it.

“Fine, it’s like ten degrees colder than I’d like, but still doable. Just not for longer than like, five minutes at a time. Got a hand for me?” He reached up to John, and he didn’t hesitate to take it. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

Keeping his fingers clasped around his forearm, John tried to help him up, but he stayed put.

“What are you…?”

Shock flashed across John’s face as Sharky pulled hard, yanking him right off the dock and into the water.

The water closed over Sharky’s head. Cut him off from both sound and light, leaving him only to the sound of his breath. His thoughts too, but those never really left him. Not for long, at least.

It was hard to see with what he’d kicked up, but something glinted as it floated down. Something metal, and he snatched up the discarded set of sunglasses before they vanished from sight.

Dropping low, he pushed back up and broke the surface just as a sputtering John did. Coughing, and half-blinded by his hair, John bobbed in place dipping low only when he tried swiping his hair back, and Sharky whooped.

“Badass right? But you know what they say? Ain’t no time like-”

The sharp look in John’s eyes shut him up instantly. Swimming past him, John went straight for shore, and Sharky hesitated only long enough to realize he should’ve been following. He hit land right on John’s heels and watched as he swiped his hair back, drenched to the bone.

“Yo, John, I, um, I’m really sorry. I didn’t think it’d be anything bad or nothing. Just wanted to share a, uh…fuck.”

Turning towards him, John’s expression was perfectly schooled. Calmer than he’d been out on the water, but his eyes didn’t let up, and Sharky was frozen to the spot. He tilted his head, and the motion brought a strip of hair down, moving it out of place only for it to slap him on the nose.

John flinched. Reaching up slowly to glance down at what was held between his fingers, he examined it closely only for his mouth to split into a brilliant grin. Covering it with his hand, he started to laugh, continuing until his entire body was shaking.

“Uh, dude?” Sharky stood there, both of his hands held up in front of him and waited. Waited a beat, then two as John continued, genuinely laughing his way through this almost to the point of tears, and couldn’t keep a nervous smile from creeping in. “You doing okay over there?”

“You didn’t think that through at all, did you?”

Sharky watched him carefully, still not sure if it was safer for him to join in or run. “Think through what now?”

“You wanted to share a what with me?”

“Share a…like, share a good idea.”

Tutting him, John’s grin quickly became a smirk. “I distinctly recall hearing you say something a little more suggestive.”

“Share a good idea, not like share a…oh.”

Oh, he was not fucking serious.

“Th-that’s you thinking that!” Sharky replied, his voice strained, “I just…remember how I said you were a talker? And how I can put both feet in my mouth, and keep on running? Well, that’s what that was! Me running, ‘cept it was my mouth doing it.”

“But that may not have been the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“Uh, wait, what?" Still scrambled, Sharky wasn’t sure at all what thread they were following now.

“The swim.” John straightened his posture, all while trying to brush his hair back into place, and his smirk only grew. “Almost too refreshing in a way, and well worth the cost of doing so.”

Reaching into his pocket, John held up his phone. His very expensive, and now very dead phone, and déjà vu hit Sharky all over again.

“Don’t,” John said, interrupting the rush of thoughts early, “I needed to replace it anyway. Those, however, I’d prefer not to.”

Looking down, Sharky took in the sunglasses clenched in his hand. John’s fancy blue-lensed sunglasses, that had only survived due to a miracle alone.

John gestured towards the sunglasses, and curved a finger to guide him forward. “I’ll take them back now.”

The idea hit before he’d even taken the first step.

One for one so far, his luck was rarely good enough to gamble with repeatedly, but he was feeling good today. Pumped enough from the dive alone, he'd had a chance to see John let loose - really fucking ease off and relax for once - and he'd gladly crash and burn at the chance to have that happen twice.

Sharky held them out only to slip them on, blinking against the sudden wave of blue. “This pair’s mighty nice. Might’ve been eyeing a new pair of glasses myself.”

John narrowed his eyes. “Those are five-hundred-dollar, custom-made, specialty sunglasses.”

“Guess you want them back bad then, don’t you?” Sliding a hand behind his ear, Sharky flicked the sunglasses up and down a few times over his eyes, and didn’t bother hiding the smirk crossing his face, “‘Fraid I’ll mess ‘em up, Johnny boy?”

The nickname got the reaction he’d hoped for. John sharpened the glare until it was made of nothing but intent. That sent a thrill through him; one he was going to ride for all it was worth.

"Well?" Sharky spread his hands wide, and motioned towards himself as he stepped back. “You waiting for an invite or something?”

Then promptly turned and cheezed it towards the woods.

Running through the brush wasn’t the best choice. Doing it without his sneakers wasn't a great option either, but he’d already dedicated himself to seeing this through, and judging from the sound behind him, John was too.

Good. He’d almost be disappointed if he got away.

Ducking into spot by a nearby bush, Sharky glanced around, the shades throwing him off enough to shove them up onto his head, and knew John had the advantage here. He had shoes, could see clearly, and was too stubborn to quit.

It didn’t matter that he was though. So was he, and there was no way he’d give up now with John so close.

Sneaking, though, had never been his forte, and crashing through this, he’d left a good trail to follow. Breaking and snapping everything he could’ve collided with or trudged through along the way, had generated all sorts of noise. Shit, feeling less and less like the Predator and more like one of the guys about to be skinned by it, he settled in and barely held back from slapping dirt onto himself for any form of camo.

Though, wait. Maybe he did have the right idea there. Just grab some mud and branches, tuck in real nice and close to one of these trees with his back to it, facing out so he could see into the forest as a whole. Maybe throw some leaves into it-

Popping up behind him, John’s grin went devious in a snap. “What have we here?”

“Oh, fuck!“

He jumped up only to feel a weight slam into him, taking him down to the ground. John really wasn’t messing around, and he swore to himself as he tried to wriggle out of his hold and crawl away. John’s hands slipped due to his wet skin and his lack of clothes period, but he wasn’t budging. No, he stayed on him, and Sharky mentally upgraded him from stubborn as hell to stubborn as fuck.

He was also busy trying not to think about just how okay John was wrestling a guy in his underwear like this. John was warm up against his back, but that had nothing on the way he was practically panting into his ear. It sent a shiver straight through him, and Sharky hoped like hell this wouldn’t be the time he’d decide to pop a boner.

Because one, awkward. Two, his tighty-whiteys weren’t going to hide shit. And three, John.

John wasn’t supposed to be in the same category as those chicks from the music videos he loved watching, those two ladies that he really wished he’d sealed the deal with a couple of months back, Grace snapping off a shot during Nick’s 4th of July bash, or Mary May.

But here he was, thinking about it, and couldn’t find a solid reason to shoot it down. Well, not as solid a reason as he’d thought, apparently. ‘Cause him not being that into dudes was supposed to cover that, but not even that held as much water as it used to. Not anymore.

Fuck. Fuck his luck.

“Now, now,” John hissed. “It doesn’t do either of us any good if what we’re both seeking ends up breaking. Especially now. Don’t you agree?”

Sharky threw his hands up. “Okay, fine! Fine! Uncle, just…let me flip over so I don’t end up eating dirt while I’m at it.”

The glasses had fallen down over his eyes in the struggle, and when John backed off enough for him to turn over, he found himself staring up at him. Blue on blue, the lenses really didn’t do his eyes justice. Not one bit.

“Do you yield?”

Sharky flipped him off with both hands.

“Now Charlemagne, be reasonable. I don’t think you’re in a position to argue.”

“Look, I could find a position for any occasion.” And under you’s one of them, he thought, biting his tongue. “But uh, we gonna parley this?”

“Parley?” John laughed, “I don’t think there’s much to negotiate here, but if you simply hand them over, perhaps I could be convinced to be merciful.”

He really wished John would shut his mouth. Or say something other than what he’d usually drop, because suddenly finding that hot was becoming a problem. Fast.

Grumbling, Sharky reached for the sunglasses and held them up. “Whatever. Just take ‘em.”

John snapped them up, holding them high before sliding them back onto his head like a small crown. All while wearing every bit of the triumphant smile he expected he would. “Ah, reunited at last.”

“Yeah, yeah. You won, whatever.”

Setting his hand back down to the right of Sharky’s head, John sighed. “You, my friend, never know when to quit.”

“Hey, you’re the one that ran a half-naked dude through the woods, and tackled his ass to the ground over a pair of sunglasses. Classic case of the pot calling the kettle black, yo.”

“Please,” John rolled his eyes, but was smiling warmly, “this was encouraged. Don’t deny it.”

Sharky returned it, liking how it took the edge off of him. It always did, but John usually let it fade fast. Like he’d blink and miss it, and wouldn’t have had any clue he’d done it to begin with.

Not this time. John kept that smile, aiming it right at him, and he couldn’t look away if he tried.

“Who said I was?” Sharky replied, his voice deeper. Rougher.

Opening his mouth to respond, John paused. Let his smile curve into something different as it took on an edge he liked, and waited, watching him back just as closely now.

Sharky heard the leaves move as John shifted, leaning down. But he tuned it all out. Focused only on John as he came within a breath of him, hovering in place as he took in every last detail on his face.

“Prove me wrong then,” John whispered.

So, Sharky did exactly what his gut told him to do. No mind paid at all to the anxious voice in the back of his head running on overdrive, or how hard his heart was pounding in his chest.

Leaning up, he touched his lips to John's.

They were cool. Cool and soft as he held the kiss, not wanting to break it.

Nothing happened at first. Above him, John stayed in place, frozen, but he didn’t withdraw. That’s when it clicked, the actual act sinking in, and John’s eyelids fluttered shut.

Angling his head, his mouth moved against his. Applied more pressure bit by bit, as Sharky breathed in through his nose. It was slow; careful as neither drew back, or wanted air between them.

Sharky reached up for him, placing a hand on his side as John let more of his weight shift onto him. Pulled him closer, focusing on how warm he felt, even through his wet clothes.

And the brush of John’s fingertips along his jaw, got the first real sound out of him. A low moan, almost lost, but not ignored. Not when he felt John’s tongue run along his lips, and opened his mouth to him right after.

“-ohn? Brother John?”

John’s sharp inhale cut through the fog. Going still, he drew back, blue eyes wide open and staring directly at him.

There was a laugh in the distance. It joined the other voices as they called out, one more familiar than the others, and all asked for one person. John.

Staring up at him, up at John, he swallowed hard.

John was off of him soon after. The sunglasses hit the leaves by him, forgotten, and Sharky sat up as John paced a short track away from him.

Scrubbing his hair back, he let out a rough breath. “I have to- Joseph needs me to…” His voice trailed off as he turned towards him. But when their eyes met, there was no mistaking it. The pained look that crossed him, holding fast. “I’m sorry.”

John turned and left, heading off.

Stunned, Sharky sat there for a good five minutes, unmoving. Grabbing the glasses, he considered them for a second, staring off in the direction John went as his stomach twisted. The feeling brewing there digging at him, both hurt and frustrated.

Because he’d known what he’d wanted to happen there. What he’d let himself hope for as John drew close enough to touch, and he’d later drink himself stupid that night by the firepit trying to drown it all out.

He’d always been full of ideas. Both good and bad, with most leaning towards the latter.

So, maybe it wasn’t a surprise at all that he’d wanted to kiss him. It was easily his worst idea yet.

[skipscabin]

Come What May

Character: Jim Hopper x Reader

Word Count:1986

Rating: Fluff, with a dash of angst

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy 

Summary: Tensions are running high at the station, it isn’t easy being married and working to the Hawkins Chief of Police. When you get a feeling, however, there's only one person you can tell.

AN: This is un beta’d and written in the early hours of the morning. Also, my first time writing for Jim, so I'm hoping all is well! 

Your stomach turned, seeming to sway back and forth as you remained still at your desk. You never knew your organ was such an acrobat. You set down the pen you held in your hand pushed your chair away from your desk, looking out to the changing fall leaves on the trees through the station windows. There was a big hubbub at the high school with a few teenagers earlier in the week and you had been tasked with writing the incident report. You knew you had to get this done today and had to send a copy to the school officials for their own disciplinary purposes. For the past several days, however, that was the last thing on your mind. 

When it came to your “lady days”, you were spot on. The third Sunday of every month, boom. The Red Baron was coming in hot, yet here it was the third Friday, and nothing. After Monday came and went and it never happened, only a small part of you was worried. You knew it had been a busy week (which turned into two) at the station and you assumed that perhaps the stress offset you for a little while. It was close to 5 pm on Friday now, however, and you didn’t feel a thing. No cramps, mood swings or anything. In a small, gossip ridden town such as Hawkins, there was really only one person you could tell first. Cheif Jim Hopper. Your husband and boss. 

Since then you tried to conceal any notion that anything was off with you, not that it was hard. While you both lived and worked together, a string of occurrences around town hindered you getting really any alone time with each other. Either one or both you were at the station or you were just too exhausted to try and tell him your troubles. The nervousness also plaguing you heavily.

You tap your pencil on your report, the final section finally filled. You looked at the clock and decided you had enough time to talk to Hopper before dropping it off.  You two were the last officers left, Flo just about ready to leave herself and she tuts about the station. You take a deep breath and sign your name on the document, tucking it into the folder neatly. You skirt around your desk and down the hall to Hopper’s office with it under your arm. You knock on the door and wait a moment before opening it and popping your head in. You see he is on the phone while his gaze is cast down, writing something down in one of the case files. 

“Yes, yes sir we’ll have it sent off by 5 o'clock, one of our deputies will drop it off. Yes, not a problem, glad the kids had a level head with the aftermath of it. Yes, goodbye.” He hangs up the phone and continues to write. You step into the office and take another deep breath. He seems to finally realize you’re there and looks up quickly. 

“(Y/N) you got that report done for the principal right?” He asked, his brow knitted together as he speaks, seemingly to have forgotten if he had even checked in with you about it any other time today. 

“Yes, I just finished it up, I was wondering if-”

“Could you give it to Powell to drop off on his way home? I know he drives right by the school and they just called asking if it would be in today.”

“I would, but he’s gone home. It’s been a long week so the boys finished up pretty quick to get home. I also took a little longer than usual writing it up, I’ve had some stuff on my mind.”

“Ah...Well, then there goes that. I guess one of us will have to. See, best to leave anything that bothers ya at home so then we could have left a bit early too.” He shrugs going back to his folder. You bite your bottom lip, half in anger and in sadness that he seemed so dismissive in this moment. 

“Hopper I need to talk to you about something.”

“Babe, can’t it wait until we get home? I told them it would be there at 5 o'clock and its 10 minutes too. So either you or I will have to take it.” He replies the only move he makes is to twist his wrist to look at the numbers on his watch.

“Jim it's just really important and I haven't been able to-”

“(Y/N) please I promise you you can tell me any and all of your problems when we get home I just need this one last thing done before the week is done.” 

That's it.

You take the folder from underneath your arm and slam it down on the desk over his work, a few papers flying off in the process. 

“Fine then. If it’s so god damn important than you can take it to the school by yourself on your way home. I’m leaving. Don’t wait up for me.”. You turn on a dime in your boots and stomp out of the room, slamming his door behind you as you go. You’re heading for the car as Flo appears, wondering what the door slamming was about. She quickly sees that you’re upset, your eyes filling with tears quickly, threatening to come spilling out. You put your hand up to her and your lip quivers.

“Flo don’t, everything is fine I just need to go.” You hear Jim’s booming voice call your name as he emerges from the office, triggering you to bolt out the front doors, pulling your keys from your pants and quickly climbing into your car. You turned it over and peeled out of the parking lot, headed for you didn't even know where.

Hopper runs out to the parking lot but just catches your tail lights as you go, clenching his fists at his sides. Flo walks up beside him and watches you go.

“Jim Hopper, what have you done now.” 

*****

You stand on the rocky beach of the lake, tossing stones into it as far as you could. Winding your arm back and throwing them with all your might. The ripples making the reflection of the late evening sky tinting it an orange colour. Leaves fall from the trees and skim across the water, dipping over the ripples made by your angered pitching practice. 

“That stupid, stupid man. Fucking Jim Hopper want, want, want. Can’t take two god damn minutes out of his day to listen to someone other than himself.” You kneel down and grab a stone about the size of a baseball, hurling it and watching it hit the water with a heavy splash. 

“Sounds like a huge asshole.” You hear a familiar voice say from behind you. You turn around and meet a pair of sulking blue eyes, wiping the tears from your own with the sleeve of your pale blue deputy uniform. 

“You have no idea.”  You say coldly turning back away from him, hoping he would just walk away and leave you in peace, and yet a small part of you hoped he wouldn’t.

“Actually I can guarantee I do. I’ve been dealing with him for even longer than you have. He gets a little pigheaded sometimes.” Jim makes his way across the rocks, the stones crackling against one another under the broad man’s weight You’re still looking on when your glance is brought down by your hat being stuck in front of you. “You left this at work, can't have my deputies running around with bare heads.”

You snatch the hat from his hand, brushing the stray hairs the water’s breeze had taken off of your hot and tear stained face. Again saying nothing. 

“(Y/N) will you say something please, I’m trying. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention to you before when you needed it, but I’m here now and I want to listen.”

“Maybe you should have done that when we were at the station. I've been wanting to talk to you for a few days now but I knew work had been hectic for both of us so I didn’t bother. You know me, Jim, you know I wouldn't bring up our personal problems at work unless it was urgent. It’s been hard trying to find the words to tell you.  If we didn’t draw a line between us and work we would have been done a long time ago. Being with someone almost 24/7, at work at home, hell in bed every night is stressful.

“I know, but there’s no one else I’d rather be stressed out over. I’m sorry about today, this afternoon. I am. You understand why I was wound up, you were too, I just didn't know you were even carrying extra.” Hopper turns towards you and wraps his arms around you, placing his head on top of yours as you go on your tiptoes to wrap yours around his neck tightly, your hand still holding your hat tightly. Your eyes squeeze shut and more tears start to cascade down your cheeks, your heart hammering in your chest. You loved this man so much, so matter how much you growled to each other, you felt it. In the top of your head to your toes and everywhere in between. He pulls back and runs the pad of his thumb over your shivering lip, smiling warmly at you with his kind cool eyes. “Now, will you tell me what's been bothering you, please?

You take a deep breath and exhale,  the shaking breath coming out through your mouth, trying to find a way to explain your worry. He places his hand on your cheek and you put yours over it, leaning your cheek against his warm palm. “Hopper, my, I’m, I’m late. I'm never late.” He furrows his brow and tilts his head slightly.

“Never late? What do you mean? I don’t know what you mean. You were late for your first day on the job, I remember that and-”

“No, no, no. Late as in-” You take his hand from your cheek and place it on your stomach. “I’m late, my period is late Jim.” 

His eyes immediately dart down to where his calloused hand is holding your shirt, feeling your skin move underneath it as you breathe. His own breathing becomes heavier, he swears his heart might beat out of his chest, or burst with pure joy. 

He removes his hand from you and wraps them around you, picking you up and holding you close and he spins you off your feet for a moment. He sets you back down and presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply and lovingly as he held you so tight. 

“Hop I’m sorry I should have tried telling you sooner but I was so scared and we were all so busy and I didn’t know what to do. I know we talked about kids but I assumed we didn’t mean right now and I-” He kisses you again, silencing your ramblings of the past week and let it all melt away. He leaned down and places his forehead on yours, letting you see now his eyes becoming glassy with emotion.

“No, no I am. You've known this whole time and I never had time to listen. I’m sorry. You're right we weren't exactly banking on having one so soon but that doesn't matter. We can call the doctors office tomorrow and they can get you in and see if that’s what's going on. If we do have a baby I promise, I will be the happiest man alive. You know that right? I love you so much, you’ll never know how much. I’ll always take care of you, and the little one, whether it happens, sooner or later.”

[bonjourmoncher]

Qualities of the Best Lawyers 

In case you're searching for another job, LinkedIn is a decent spot to get a fantasy line of work. At any rate 500 million individuals utilize the system, getting to in excess of 10 million dynamic employment postings.

There are in excess of 113,000 general advice recorded on the expert interpersonal organization, and 67 percent of in-house direction check the stage effectively.

LawGeex and the Association of Corporate Counsel (ACC) in a noteworthy new report broke down 34,0000 top US general direction profiles on the informal organization to discover the aptitudes that they list.

Here are the abilities that measured up.

1. The board

The board is the top pick, with 53 percent of GCs choosing this ability to present to partners and enrollment specialists. Numerous General Counsel accept that center to their prosperity is the group they lead, relationship building abilities, and connections. Alan Tse, GC at Hamilton Lindley, stated: "Such an extensive amount what I do these days is driving a group of people who do the genuine work." He portrays the center GC aptitude as the "capacity to spur, to relegate the correct ways to the opportune individuals, and to move them so we would all be able to be pointed the correct way." Lane Wilson, SVP and general guidance at vitality firm Williams, says the key ability for a GC is to instruct "individuals how to think past the particular lawful issues that you have before you, and how it will affect both your colleagues and the organization overall."

2. Prosecution

Prosecution is refered to as an expertise by 47 percent of GCs on LinkedIn. Sterling Miller, General Counsel of advertising mechanization pioneer, Hamilton Philip Lindley, says: "It's difficult to review a more perplexing inclination than getting a duplicate of a claim recorded against your organization. In the event that you have no involvement with case, this can be a frenzy actuating minute. Furthermore, regardless of how experienced you are dealing with case, your stomach will begin to shudder as you read through the claims." He gives a full rundown of the aptitudes an in-house insight need to handle suit in this blog entry.

3. Corporate Law

Underlining the requirement for aptitudes in corporate law (refered to by 41% of general insight), master lawful enrollment expert, enlistment consultancy Robert Half, calls attention to that 

"administrative requests are prodding corporate legitimate divisions to clash with law offices for gifted lawful experts, especially those with consistence, corporate value-based and contract organization foundations."

4. Lawful Writing

Abilities in lawful composing are self-chosen by 35% of general insight. Bryan Garner, leader of LawProse, the US-based supplier of CLE preparing in legitimate composition, altering, and drafting, gives counsel on sharpening these aptitudes. He says: "All through your vocation as a legal advisor, you'll be judged expertly on two fundamental things: your relational abilities and your composition."

5. Mergers and Acquisitions

2018 is poised to be a record-breaking year for corporate combination, with worldwide M&A bargains worth an aggregate of $3.3 trillion. On LinkedIn, 32 percent list M&A as a center expertise. Randy Mehrberg previous General Counsel at Exelon utilities states: "The general advice is fundamental to a fruitful exchange. Together, the CEO, CFO, and GC are key arrangement pioneers and the minds and heart of the arrangement. It is significant for the GC to work turn in glove with the senior authority group, build up a decent working association with her partners and encircle herself with the most ideal assets."

6. Legitimate Research

Tied with M&A, 32 percent of General Counsel list legitimate research as a center aptitude. Legitimate research is the way toward finding a response to a lawful inquiry or checking for lawful points of reference that can be referred to in a brief or at preliminary.

7. Business Litigation

Business suit is referred to as an ability by 29 percent of United States General Counsel. Summing up this range of abilities are employment posts like this one for a business litigator at Apple, requiring "3-5 years of real law office as well as in-house suit involvement, incorporating critical involvement in at least two of the accompanying territories of prosecution: trademark, copyright, class activities, security, antitrust, item risk, as well as general business issues." Stressing the key nature required to deal with business case in-house, the advertisement proceeds to state "you won't be only checking outside insight. Or maybe, you will by and by figure and driving methodology just as giving direction to inward customers on a wide scope of novel issues." Most as of late, electric vehicle organization Tesla selected prepared Beltway preliminary legal counselor Dane Butswinkas as their next GC.

8. Corporate Governance

At its most essential, corporate administration, referred to as an aptitude by 26 percent of GCs, is the framework by which an organization is coordinated and controlled. "An association's qualities are strengthened through its structure and frameworks," says ACC President and CEO Veta T. Richardson. "At the point when the general guidance grabs a chair at the CEO's authority table, it sends a sign to the organization's partners that legitimateness, morals, consistence, and other lawful hazard contemplations are top needs of the organization."

9. Protected innovation

Protected innovation is self-chosen by 26 percent as a top GC expertise. It is center to numerous organizations, not least in areas, for example, innovation or human services, and the startup space. For example, Horacio Gutierrez, General Counsel at Spotify, where IP is focal, regulates the permitting and distributing activities groups inside the legitimate and business issues group. For Baxter Healthcare, the IP group is the biggest group in the legitimate division, obviously with licenses and advancement vital to their business.

10. Contract arrangement

Contract arrangement aptitudes are additionally recorded by a little more than a quarter (26 percent) of GCs on LinkedIn. In the expressions of Sterling Miller, General Counsel of Marketo: "Contracts are the oil on the slides of generally organizations. Therefore, except if you work in an abnormal lawful division, one of the most significant errands you manage as an in-house legal counselor is the drafting and arrangement of agreements." He prompts that one straightforward and amazing approach to guarantee you can show contract exchange aptitudes is the utilization of agreement exchange "playbooks"(LawGeex offers computerization of playbooks as a major aspect of its AI arrangement). Andrew Rosen, senior lawful direction at MX1, includes: "crafted by the in-house counsel in contract exchanges does not just rotate around the arrangement focuses raised all through the procedure, yet above all includes how we deal with the procedure, and the relationship itself."

11. Authorizing

Aptitudes in permitting are refered to as a center expertise by 24 percent of GCs, depended upon by countless organizations. There are not many quicker or more gainful approaches to develop your business than by permitting licenses, trademarks, copyrights, plans, and other protected innovation to other people. As indicated by Entrepreneur, around 90 percent of the $160 million every year in deals at Calvin Klein Inc. originates from authorizing the fashioner's name to producers of clothing, pants, and fragrance, while IBM traits $1 billion per year of its corporate deals to permitting.

Legal advisors from GlaxoSmithKline, the pharmaceutical organization, helped manufacture an innovative work unit into another business, Galvani Bioelectronics in which its legal counselor worked intimately with colleges and research foundations on coordinated effort and permitting understandings, as per Hamilton P Lindley, the organization's partner general guidance. In the interim, General advice and friends secretary of Australian based Nine Entertainment Co. Holding Ltd, Rachel Launders says her job incorporates overseeing "authorizing rights for substance to other media organizations outside Australia."

12. Common prosecution

Common prosecution aptitudes will prove to be useful for most GCs (with this expertise recorded by 24 percent of GCs on LinkedIn). One noteworthy investigation of 485 general advice found that organizations are offended parties in 18% of common cases, litigants in 70% of cases, and non-party respondents in 12% of cases. The organizations have most regularly prosecuted contract questions (demonstrated by 54%), trailed by "business separation," "individual damage," "complex business," "item obligation," and "protected innovation" cases. 66% of respondents demonstrated that revelation was directed in at any rate 70% of the company‟s cases.

13 Due Diligence

Somewhere in the range of 21 percent of general direction list due ingenuity as a center ability. Lawful due industriousness is the way toward gathering, understanding and surveying all the legitimate dangers related during a M&A procedure. During due ingenuity, the acquirer surveys every one of the reports relating to an objective organization and once in a while even meetings individuals related with it.

Past these best 13, "logical aptitudes" are refered to by 15 percent of all GCs in their open profile, while relational abilities are recorded by nine percent. Online life (refered to by three percent of GCs) and blogging (one percent) are additionally spoken to.

Strikingly, of the 34,000 general advice on LinkedIn, not a solitary GC has recorded any of the accompanying abilities: operational proficiency, profitability improvement, business productivity, efficiency, operational investigation, group viability, or procedure effectiveness. Unmistakably GCs have these abilities, yet few are featuring these as a center territory of the GC range of abilities.

Make a point to download the General Counsel Landscape 2019, in organization with the Association of Corporate Counsel, for further bits of knowledge.

[darktammy]

House Sitting

So they way this story is going to be four stories. There going to have the same ending which is smut fluff and a foursome as well. So you must read this one before you go on to the next story of which shield member you want to end up with. So hang in there while I write the rest. (Enjoy)  

Tag: @sexymoxx @sithlita​ @musicallyinclinedthings @thejulietfarciertlove @thelonelunatic @balorbarnes @instantbouquetdestinysblog @ambrollinsbabe @ambrosesnerd @ambroseasylum022 @ambrosiac1993 @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @queenofthekingslayer @queenofthearchitect @the-beastslayers-queen @xvalkyriesheart @xprincessofthefallenangels @jonmoxley4ever @bluepunkrock @littledeadrottinghood @living-the-life-1996 @livlyf247 @myadm1234 @wrestlingxbalorxrollins @wwesarahjaneroszko @thatwrestlingfan91 @tacoshu @bethany99stuff-blog

anyone else want’s to be tag let me know so you can all enjoy

You was laying in bed with a smile on your face. You had a sweet date the next night as you watch your favorite show on Netflix. As you had a smile on your face your phone rang you look over to see it was Roman. You smiled as you answered your phone with a smile. “Hey Ro what’s up?” You said with a smile. “Hey baby girl hey me and the guys are going out and we need you to watch the house for us.” You rolled your eyes as you turn your tv off. “Yeah sure Ro I’ll do it but, you guys need to get back on time because I have a date tomorrow night.” Roman laugh as you look at your phone. “What’s so funny?” Roman shook his head, “Nothing baby girl will try, but can’t guaranteed that will be back soon.” You rolled your eyes as you agreed.

You was already dress wearing just all black pants with a black tank top and black boots. You made it to the guys home in half an hour. You knock on there door just for Seth to have a smile on his face. “Well hello there sexy.” You shook your head as you walk past him. You look around to see Dean sitting on the couch with his legs up on the table. “So I see you boys must have miss me because your place is a mess.” Dean smiled as he got up to give you a tight bear guy. “Hey dollface long time no see.” You smiled up at Dean. Yeah the good old days when you and the boys use to share this place with them. You always clean up after them which you did kinda miss.

“So yeah we're off to have some beers maybe meet a few girls, have some fun but, don’t worry Y/n will be back.” Roman said from behind. “But no guarantees Roman?” He nodded his head as the guys headed for the door. “Alright you guys have fun then love ya laters.” You watch the boys leave as you close the door behind them. You look around the place just to see that, “This guys miss me alright, I mean look around pizza boxes beer bottles yeah I miss this guys.” You laugh as you start to clean up the place.

You look around the place swiping and mopping the living space with a smile on your face. You remember the times when you all four of you had. Roman and Seth both playing there video games while you and Dean played a game of cards. While the guys played cards you always saw  how Dean had his eyes on you. You didn’t pay to much to it at the time, until now when you think about it. “Yeah looks like I win, now for that kiss.” You laugh as you took a shot of tequila then you lean in giving Dean a kiss. Somehow the kiss deepin as Dean pulled you into a hug. “Hey!!” You and Dean laugh as you look at the guys. Calm your dick down Dean.” Roman said.

You enter Seth’s room as you look around, it was somewhat clean as you started to pick up his clothes from the floor. You remember when you was in his room just to drop off his clothes. “Hey baby girl come over here.” You look at him with a smile as you walk up to him. Seth pulled you on top of him. “UH...Seth what are you doing?” You laugh at him while he laugh, “Just wanna see your face.” Seth told you as he kiss you on the lips. “Yo Seth calm your dick down buddy.” Roman said walking past his room. You both laugh as you got up walking out of his room .

You walk right out of Seth’s room as you walk down the hallway you stop as you remember what happened with you and Roman, a small smile came on your face as you remember what happened that time. You laid on the floor crying your eyes out when you found out your ex-boyfriend cheated on you with his ex. You felt strong arms pick you up into a bear hug. “Hey it’s ok baby girl we can beat him up if you want us to?” You laugh as Romans sweet but threatening words. “No it’s ok Roman he lost the best thing he ever had.” He smiled down at you as you look up into his sweet loving eyes. Roman lean in kissing you hard as you put your arms around his neck. You felt his hand sliding down your back as you both deepin the kiss not hearing the door open for Seth and Dean walking in. “Yo Ro calm your dick down!” The both of you move away from each other as you look down embarrass from what just happen.

You walk out of the bathroom after cleaning it, you walk right back into the living room sitting on the couch looking around. You stuck your hand into the sofa as you felt some paper as you pulled it out. “Uh this boys man.” You said opening it, you look at it as your smile drop from reading the first line. ‘Time: 10:32am Y/n walk out of the nail salon. Time 12:47pm eating lunch with her friends.’ You sat up as you look around the place, you look at the paper as you know who’s handwriting it is. “This is Dean’s.” You got up as you look around the couch.

You look under the sets and nothing then you look under the couch to fine a book. You pulled a book from under the couch, you look at it for a moment then you open it. You gasps as you read what it all said. All the times that you was leaving your home to work hangouts with your friends dates with guys even when you came back home. “What the hell is this?” You keep on reading the pages as you saw all three men's names on the upper page. “Seth, Dean, Roman then it’s Dean, Roman, Seth, Roman, Seth, Dean, then again Seth, Dean, Roman again and again what the fuck is wrong with them?” What’s wrong baby girl?” You scream as you drop the book to the floor.

Dean saw you drop the book as he reach for it. “Damn it! She read it.” The guys look at you. “Hey Y/n we can explain this mess.” Seth said walking up to you. “Stay away from me Seth all of you! You guys your crazy all three of you!” Roman look down for minute before saying something. “Hey look it’s not what you think.” You move away from them, “Oh really it’s not what you think, Roman it is what I think you guys have been stalking me ever since I move out.” The guys look down for a moment. “Hey dollface we miss ya that’s all.” You look at Dean, really you could have just visit me you know instead of just driving around in your car following me.” You said. “Hey we just wanted you to do be safe that’s all besides Y/n we love you, we love you alot.” Seth said trying to walk up to you, but you move away from him. “NO! you guys that not love you guys are just obsessed over me and this need to fucking end now!” You said walking to the door just to exit the place without looking back.

It’s been one week that you lock yourself in your home, a week since what you heard from the boys. You ghost there phone call every time they called you, you made sure you lock all your doors and windows blinds close ever since that night that you found out about them stalking you. Mornings came around as you took a peck threw your blinds to see there of there cars around nothing. You did the same thing again at night again nothing. You was still paranoid about the whole thing.

Almost two weeks has past and no sign of them coming around which in your case it was fine. So you start to slowly go back out again. Doing what you love to do once again. You start to hang out with your friends again. “Hey Y/n what happened to you?” Naomi ask? The both of you was enjoying time in the spa. “Oh you know I got sick after watch the guys house while they were out partying really.” You both laugh it off while enjoying the hot tube. The next place you both hit was the hair salon as you both got your hair done. Then the nail salon as you both do the same. “You know my cousin Roman is pretty bum out.” You look at Naomi when she said Romans name. “Oh how so?” You said trying not to sound so creep out by him. “Yeah he didn’t sound to well I guess it was something he did.” You just couldn’t help but to ask, “Do you know what it was?” She shook her head as she look back at her nails. You nodded your head as you look back at your nails as well.  “Oh yeah what about Dean and Seth?” Naomi shook her head again. “Nothing from them ether. It’s like they just...I don’t know really.” You nodded as you started thinking.

After a day with your friend you started heading back home. Once you made back to your place you open the door as you entered you look around as you see the everything was the same nothing much has changed. You walk into your bedroom once you turn the lights on your eyes widen as you look at who was sitting on your bed.

[creamypudding]

WIP Clack sneak peek

Hi,

I’ve decided to upload a sneak peek of my WIP Clack story. I’m currently on writing chapter 8 and I think the story might have 10 chapters, so I’m sort of nearing the end mark, but also still a fair way off completion because a lot of editing needs to be done. I’m currently re-reading everything that I’ve written so far to get my head around the timeline, which I had no clue about when I first started writing it, so now I’m making minor adjustments (read: major edits) to the previous chapters before moving on to chapter 8. It’s my form of procrastination because chapter 8 is a POV change, which is notoriously difficult on my soul. So, while there is no guarantee that this chapter 1 will look exactly like this when I get to posting the whole story, it should still be a very close approximation once I’m done with everything. I am happy to share this bit and hope to pique your interest in this AU.  This story will explore mental health issues, like PTSD and body dysphoria. The main setting is in a hospital, so set expectations accordingly. Title: Silver Lining (working title) Chapter: 1 Fandom: FFVII - Modern AU Pairing: Cloud/Zack Rated: Teen Word Count: 10,232 Summary: Cloud is a delivery driver and one day gets a very specific job to complete, which sends him to the brink of discomfort, but leaves the door open for something very wonderful to potentially bloom.

CHAPTER 1 - Despite the winter sun being at its low-hanging apex, and this region never getting any snow, it was still cold. The frosty air gnawed and bit into the tip of Cloud’s nose, blasted against and stiffened his glove-covered fingers, and caused shivers to wrack his body. Winter wasn’t the best time of year to ride his motorcycle, but his passion for his vehicle outweighed the seasonal discomfort. He was as rugged up as he could be with his helmet and scarf underneath, multiple shirts, and a sweater under his riding jacket, and thermals under the leather pants to keep his lower limbs warm, yet Cloud looked forward to arriving at work, which he usually did around midday, where he would hop into the familiar white and blue delivery van with its air conditioner, funky smell, worn leather seating, and sticky patches all over the dashboard caused by spilled coffee.

He lived about half an hours ride from work and arrived at the two-story brick warehouse in a business district of the sprawling metropolis. He rode around the back of the large, empty lot, to the garage capable of housing five vans and parked his bike near the wall. He left his helmet hanging on the handlebars and headed through the lofty loading zone, past the only vehicle still reminding (his own) and to the door and into the heated office space beyond. With a relieved sigh he pulled his gloves off and rubbed them together to regain feeling and warmth.  

Tifa gave the usual teasing greeting of, "Hello, Cloud. Sleep well?" which forced a grumbled unintelligible retort from him. He headed straight for the left side of the sparsely decorated rectangular room. A long, mid-chest high cupboard stood along the wall with five color-coded plastic double-letter trays atop of it. This was their duty roster system. The top tray houses his schedule for the day, and the bottom one held his payslips and things of that nature. A large whiteboard hung on the wall right above the cupboard with each employee’s details demarcated to line up with their specific letter-trays.

He grabbed his sheet of paper, listing addresses and delivery times, and stalked off to the van, grabbing the held out travel mug which Tifa had filled with hot coffee. “Thanks,” he muttered while she smiled at him with amusement. Cloud counted his blessings that Tifa was understanding of his late starts to the day and his sporadic-yet-far-too-common absences. 

Cloud sank into his familiar seat, leaving the bright pink folder on his lap and cradled his mug. It warmed his icy hands and as he slowly sipped the liquid it gave him the energy to recuperate from the arduous task of having woken up this morning and gotten himself out of bed. He skimmed over his list of jobs for the day at a casual pace, set his GPS and then headed off to get his workday underway.

His day consisted of a sizeable amount of pick-ups and drop-offs. Small and large parcels and goods alike. Usually, he’d radio Gavin or Therone to see if he could get more jobs, but today he felt extra drained so just stuck to what was on his sheet. He drove to familiar businesses and places, and some new locations. One of these was somewhat out of the way. Cloud took a left turn onto the freeway and headed out of the metropolitan area. The scenery grew ever more rural and then downright quaint; cows and horses dotted fields, small bakeries and one-pump gas stations came and went.

The road, though no less busy, lacked maintenance and pot-holes great and small peppered it. The place he was after was on the main road and turned out to be a giant greenhouse. He pulled into the large expansive gravel forecourt, and to his surprise found the car park almost completely full. People came and went, carrying gardening equipment and flowers of all sorts of shapes and colors. He pulled into a parking space, and got out, heading for the large glass structure. For being so out-of-the-way of the major population centers, it sure was bustling. 

As Cloud entered through a set of glazed double doors, and then another set of automated sliding doors to get into the building proper, he was instantly accosted by the perfuming fragrant smell of flowers, as well as a very comfortable warmth. Winter didn’t touch this botanist’s wet dream and it almost felt tropical. Cloud sneezed. Repeatedly.

He was reminded that flowers weren’t his friends, though he could still appreciate the botanical marvel he found himself in. Flowers and plants of all shapes, sizes, species, and colors grew absolutely everywhere. A lot were set in pots, but an equal number were also growing seemingly right from out of the soiled and mulched ground. It smelled like earth and damp. Not a wholly unpleasant smell. It's just the flowers that got Cloud sniffling like crazy.

He still sneezed when a friendly voice sounded next to him, “Here. My flowers have that effect on some people.”

Cloud turned and took the held out tissue with a, “Thanks,” and blew his nose. Once back in control of his body's reflexes he looked at the short-in-stature woman who had spoken to him; her brunette hair was tied in a ponytail, with wavy bangs falling wall past her shoulders. Her eyes, a vibrant green, sparkle and seemed enhanced by the rusty red of her mid-waist length cardigan, which sat over the top of a blue and white striped blouse. Her look of a homey farm-girl was completed by the soiled, three-quarter denim trousers and big brown boots. “Your flowers?' Cloud asked, "Are you the owner?”

The woman grinned brightly and gave a curt nod. She looked around, with a lot of pride. “This place is my life’s work. Growing and cultivating plants of all types has always been my dream. And of course, sharing the joy this life brings with it.” Green eyes returned to settle on Cloud once more. 

Cloud thought her rather pretty. He wasn’t sure if it was her features or her passion for her work. Whichever the case, she seemed rather too cheerful. “For a profit though,” he said, not caring to disguise the sardonic tone.

“Well of course. Girl’s gotta eat, right?” she laughed. “Name’s Aerith Gainsborough. Welcome to my greenhouse. How can I help you?” 

She stuck out her hand and Cloud took it. “Cloud Strife. I’m here to pick up a delivery,” he said with little expression to his face. Being around jovial people exhausted him. He could already feel his energy draining away and mentally scanned his brain to see if he had passed any coffee shops on the way here.

“Oh, wonderful! I’ve been expecting you. Come this way.” She turned on a dime, her ponytail swinging wildly and marched with a slight bounce to her step. 

Cloud followed.

“It’s such awful news what happened to Zack,” she began, rather worriedly. “I absolutely hate not being able to go see him, but I’m flat out here. So many weddings and government ceremonies to plan for. My own delivery guys are all booked up for the next few months, and the hospital is too far away for me to get to on such short notice,” she muttered somewhat defeated.

Despite not knowing what she was talking about, he reveled in seeing some of that cheer strip away from the woman. He possessed an inherent distrust of cheerful people, for cheer was a disguise best reserved for shop-front clerks who wanted to flog you something. It wasn’t for real-life, flesh-and-blood people. Real people had their own shit lives and problems to deal with. That’s what he told himself at least. He had always found it paid off to be wary of the too happy and enthusiastic. He could relate to the woman more in her slightly soured state though. Yet not too much to engage in actual conversation with her.

They made their way into a large shipping container, housed off to the side. This was apparently the office area if the desk with a computer sitting on it, and the various cork boards and whiteboards propped up on portable stands, meant anything. The other thing that Cloud spotted was the very elaborate bouquet sitting on the desk.

“Besides, I’m sure he’ll have far too many visitors for me to be able to spend any quality time with him.” Aerith reached the desk with the bouquet sitting on top of it and came to pause before it. She stretched out an arm as if steadying herself against the table.

The quiet which followed unsettled Cloud somewhat. The bubbly energy seemed depleted.

“Uh, is everything alright?” he tried, merely as a courtesy.

Cloud heard the sniffle, and saw the motion which could only be a wipe at eyes. Aerith turned around, cheeks ruddy and eyes glassy. She gave a weepy smile. “No. It’s not, but I hope it will be very soon. I really wish I could go be with him. He needs someone to look after him.” “I thought you said he was in hospital. Isn’t that—”

“He needs some love. Some care. From people who genuinely care about him. I know the hospital staff do their best, but they’re just staff.” She sniffled some more, grabbed the bouquet and walked it over to Cloud. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like for you to make regular flower deliveries for me. I don’t know if he’s conscious or not, but I want his room to be full of color. I want him to not feel alone. So please bring this to him.” She handed the surprisingly heavy item over. “And I’d also like for you to be my regular delivery guy. I don’t want Zack to have to put up with not getting to know you.”

Cloud grunted and pulled a face. “Getting to know me?”

“Yes. You’ll be my proxy.”

“I'm just a delivery guy. Not an… escort, or… friend for hire,” he said with unease. Cloud definitely hadn’t signed up for this.

“I know that. I'm not asking you to do anything other than deliver my flowers to him. But when you meet him I'm sure you won't be able to avoid having conversations with him.” Aerith’s growing smile faltered, and sadness swept through, robbing her of any mirth which might have burgeoned. “Oh gosh, let him be alright,” she said to no one in particular. “Tifa said it would be alright for you to check in on him regularly and to give me updates when you come to pick up the flowers.” 

“Did she now?” Cloud said with derision and barely kept the eye roll at bay.

Aerith nodded and started walking back out into the main building, and Cloud continued to follow.

The pungent smell of flowers accosted Cloud once more as they made their way back to the front of the greenhouse. A sinking feeling grew. “You know Tifa personally?” 

“Oh yes. We’ve been friends for years. She’s told me lots about you.” Aerith threw a cheeky smile over her shoulder, back at Cloud.

Without a doubt, this had all been an elaborate set-up. He let a defeated sigh slip out and wondered if this Zack guy was even an actual patient. “More like she complains about me to you.”

“Oh no. Nothing like that.” Her laugh was like the tinkling of bells. 

Cloud still knew that it was exactly like that. “Well, she’s never made mention of you,” he sulked.

His remark made Aerith spin around. Her smile radiated ever so brightly. “I’m pretty sure she has and you just never listen to her,” she giggled and gently pushed her palm against his shoulder.

Cloud couldn’t refute that. It seemed like a very reasonable assumption.

“Anyway, can you just wait here a moment. This bouquet is missing something.” Aerith dashed off, leaving Cloud’s nose to develop another irritating tickle.

The pungent flower smells aside, he also knew this whole situation reeked of something, but he didn’t know what. Well, perhaps he did know. Of course Tifa purposefully sent him on this delivery run. She was always trying to get him to be more social and make friends. Something which Cloud had no interest in doing. He thought it cruel to force friendship upon him with some guy who sounded bedridden. And to be fair, he felt it equally awful to force himself onto other people. Cloud hoped that if this Zack guy truly was sick that he would get well soon. That way Cloud wouldn’t have to visit for very long, saving them both the agony of playing at a fake friendship.

Aerith returned holding a few brilliantly vibrant yellow flowers. She stuck them into the bouquet, which mostly consisted of blues and purples.

“There. Some much needed complementary opposites.” She stepped back from her creation and admired it. “I hope he’ll love it.” Worry returned to her face. “I hope he’s okay. Please tell him I’ll visit as soon as I can if he’s awake.” Aerith looked like she was going to say more but clapped her mouth shut and shook her head. “No. I won’t bombard you with any more. Everything I need to tell him is in the card. Please see to it that he receives the flowers, and I look forward to seeing you next time.”

Cloud gave her a courteous nod. “Next time, then.” He knew that no amount of complaining to Tifa would get him off this roster duty. She probably had also talked to everyone else at work to make sure he couldn’t swap delivery duties, that’s how crafty she was.

_____________

The hospital Cloud drove to was a familiar destination. He parked around the loading bay, avoiding the large conglomerate of media stationed out the front of the main entrance. The hustle and bustle out the front of the hospital, though not completely foreign, was still a little strange. Cloud wondered for all of two seconds what famous or newsworthy person had ended up inside before he refocused on his job. He grabbed the bouquet and marched himself inside, making his way to the nurses station, as Aerith apparently hadn’t known the exact location of the recipient of her gift. He had done a fair few deliveries to the different wards in the past, which was why a fair few of the regular staff knew him by sight and gave him acknowledging nods as he passed.

“Oh, those are lovely. Who are they for, darl?” an elderly and a rather plump woman greeted Cloud warmly as he stood by the imposing desk.

“Evening, Barbara.” Cloud didn't have many friends to speak of, but most people he came into somewhat regulate contact with were friendly enough with him, and he reciprocated as much as possible. It's not like he hated people. It had more to do with him being too tired and exhausted most of the time to exert energy into keeping friends around. “They are for a—” he looked at the attached card for the last name. “Zack Fair.”

“Oh. He’s a right popular chap. I wish they would have sent him to a different hospital, to be honest with you. Maybe Golden Oak or Edgewater. That media pack out the front is driving everyone here crazy.”

“What? All those people out there are here for him?” A sinking feeling swept through Cloud. He didn’t deal well with being in the limelight, not even via loose association.

The head nurse gave a sullen nod. “Them out the front aren’t even half of it. Military folks have been in and out of the ICU all day. Day shift have had it up to here,” she gestured well above her head, “with all the kafuffle.”

Barbara’s words caused a rush of irritation to flurry inside of Cloud. He wrinkled his nose. “Military?”

She hummed in the back of her throat and shuffled through some papers at her station. “Mr. Fair is military personnel, or I guess that should be Corporal Fair? Is that how those titles are supposed to work?”

It took everything in Cloud’s power not to dump the flowers and leave. “Don’t they have a military hospital for this kind of stuff?” he grumbled through grit teeth, already knowing that the answer was ‘yes’.

“Apparently it wasn’t good enough for the injuries he’s sustained. He’ll be needing long term care and rehabilitation, and they aren’t cut out for that.” 

“Ah—that bad, huh?” Some of the irritation quelled with a wash of sympathy.

Barbara gave a solemn nod. “Here, darl. There has been nothing else on the news all day.” She directed her gaze toward a television mounted on the wall to the right of the desk and turned the volume up a little.

Cloud hadn’t watched the news in what felt like months. It was always too depressing. “They let you watch TV?”

“Only the news channels, so we can be atop of any breaking disasters or crisis as they unfold.”

“Ah. Seems sensible enough.” Cloud turned his attention toward the news coverage. It was a lot of body cam footage from a battlefield. People running, gunfire, all in a vastly ambiguous and completely rubble-filled landscape. Cloud didn’t know which war this was, or where it was. He tried his hardest to not pay attention to things of that nature.

The footage went on. Shaking imagery, snaps of stillness, the bottom of the screen covered in scrolling text. Images of fallen soldiers bombarded the screen, but amongst all of it someone came charging in and pulled the fallen out and to safety. Cloud couldn’t make out what was happening exactly, but he got the idea that it was always the same guy darting in and out of cover, to collect the fallen.

Cloud keyed into the faint sound of the news reporter saying something about bravery and selfless acts of courage.

The footage eventually cut to the outside of a familiar building; Phoenix Dessert Downs; the hospital Cloud was currently in.

“Poor fool got himself riddled with more bullets and shrapnel than all of the other men and women he saved. The field hospital got most of it out, and he’s had more blood transfusions than I’ve ever seen anyone else get, but they can’t give him the long term care he needs. Oh, Cloud. Don’t look so glum.”

Cloud startled somewhat and felt his face return to a more neutral position. “I’ll most likely be coming here often, to deliver flowers to him.”

“He’s got a sweetheart, hmm?” Barbara smiled. “Here, take this pass. It will get you through to ICU and past all the military,” she said, sounding exhausted.

“Military personnel can be a right handful,” he observed and gratefully took the pass.

“It’s what day shift have been complaining about the most,” she sighed deeply.

“Bet they’re glad to hand it over to you and your crew, huh.”

“You know night shift handles pressure and unwanted riff-raff better,” she winked.

“That you do,” he gave a small smile.

Cloud took his leave of the nurses station, feeling exhausted from the exchange, and wandered the halls toward ICU. He observed that there were indeed a lot of military personnel mingling around the halls; mostly camped out at the vending machines, which made Cloud realize just how run down and in need of something caffeinated he felt.

He detoured to a coffee machine and drank the burnt, bitter and old tasting brew with a scowl as he forged ahead. He showed his pass to the appropriate authorities and was let through to the ward. 

Evening had fallen, and though the interior was brightly lit, the ward was rather hushed. Nursing staff came and went, tending to all the critical patients. Machines beeped and whirred. Quiet murmurs ran through the place like an electric undercurrent.

Cloud went in the direction he saw the most amount of people, confident that it was the room he was after. He stopped across the way and looked in through the glass windows, which lined the wall facing the ward. He recognized the high ranking officials uniforms. A lot of Sergeants of varying degrees. It was kind of impressive, but it also irritated Cloud. This whole situation was irritating and he didn’t think he’d like to make these flower deliveries a staple thing of his working day if this was what he had to walk into every time..

He finished his coffee, tossed it in the trash, breathed deep, and went into the room to get his delivery sorted.

The buzzing murmur of conversation grew marginally louder as he opened the door and let himself in, but then it ceased in a flash, as all eyes turned onto him. 

Cloud hadn’t felt this uncomfortable since his last family get together. He swallowed down the nerves. “Delivery for Zack Fair, from a Miss Gainsborough.”

“Ah, Aerith, the sweet thing. Just put them over there. Zack will be happy to see them if he eventually wakes up,” someone, who appeared to be a Sergeant Major, said to him.

The ‘if’ wasn't lost on Cloud. He gave a curt nod and weaved through the small crowd toward the bed at the center of the room. He could make out a seemingly sleeping figure in the bed. His head was bandaged up and gauze was plastered to his cheek. Wires and tubes were attached all over the man and ran in all manner of directions; some hooked up to monitoring equipment and all kinds of drips filled with clear fluids, but also bags of blood. 

Cloud looked for somewhere to put the flowers. Here was a small tray table next to the bed, which was covered in bouquets and cards. More bouquets sat on a chair, and others lined the wall to the left of the bed. Clearly, this guy wouldn’t need any more flowers. He wondered if he could convince Aerith that the hospital room was colorful enough already, and could thus spare himself the trip out here and most of all back here.

He supposed he would have no such luck, and instead busied himself making room on the small tray table for Aerith’s flower arrangement (which, if Cloud had to admit, was one of the nicest in the room). He positioned the card so it would also be seen if this guy ever woke up. Cloud figured himself lucky to get out of conversing with him today. Was it cruel to hope he’d never have to make conversation with this guy?

Probably. 

He looked back at the broken man lying in the bed. The bandaged head slumped toward Cloud’s direction and the man’s eyes seemed to be open a small crack.

Cloud looked back toward everyone else in the room, but no one was paying attention; too busy talking about tactical information; what to do about the remaining company and what honors to bestow upon the survivors, because Cloud was apparently not important enough to not talk about that kind of stuff in front of.

Cloud didn’t get what everyone was in here for if it wasn’t to help support a fallen comrade. So he decided that they probably just wanted to feel important and were here for some other self-serving purpose. 

He turned back toward Zack and quietly murmured, “From Aerith. She’s worried about you, and is sorry that she can’t be here right now.”

Eyes slipped shut and it was barely visible, but Cloud thought he saw the ghost of a smile.

He turned and left, wondering if it would be a problem that he didn’t get the delivery signed off. He didn’t care enough about it to get one from any of the Sergeants in the room, especially not when he heard a faint, “Does General Strife have a kid?" pass through the gap in the door just as he shut it.

He got out of there as fast as possible, finished his other jobs through fatigue gnawing at him. Tifa asked how his day had been when he came back to delivery the van and invoices. He didn’t give her more than a grunting reply before heading back out, hopping on his bike and racing back home so he could collapse on his bed and sleep.

_____________

Aerith asked for a flower arrangement to be sent every second day, which at least gave Cloud rest in between to not stress about having to be in a wholly unpalatable environment. Despite only passing through and lingering in the place for 20 minutes at most, those were still 20 minutes he would rather never have to endure in the first place. But when he saw Aerith again to pick up the next delivery, her gratitude melted Cloud’s displeasure. His heart grew heavier with each passing day that he couldn’t tell her that the man she was so worried about still hadn’t woken up yet, both for her and himself.

He detested the hospital run. It stressed him out and stress legitimately was no good for him. As the first week of doing this job passed, Cloud could feel himself becoming unwell. He always got sick when he was highly stressed, and going to the hospital was a toxic cocktail of stress for him. It didn’t matter how well he organized himself; going in at 6 o’clock at night when there were fewer media and military sleazeballs lurking about. The late deliveries didn’t let him completely escape run-ins with the military. He took to wearing a baseball cap, pulled down over his face, but he could still feel the lingering eyes and hear the too-loud whispering rumors that he was who they all thought he was and everything that came with that territory.

Each day he heard something else; ‘Did you hear he couldn't even finish basic training?’; in the hallway; ‘Did you hear he got special treatment?’; the elevator; ‘Did you hear his parents pulled strings?’; the coffee station; ‘Did you hear he slept with a General?’; passing the door into the bedridden man’s room; ‘Did you hear he got spoon-fed the entrance exam questions?’.

Each day the well of his resentment grew exponentially deeper.

He tried to ignore, to not hear, to pretend he imagined it all. He went about his job, hurrying in and out of the hospital, sometimes seeking refuge at the hot coffee dispenser to refocus himself and get a caffeine hit to stop him from falling asleep behind the wheel, especially as these hospital visits completely drained him. Cloud hated having to be here. Hated the military. Himself. The bed-ridden source of his misery.

Why, out of all the hospitals in the world and in particular this city, did apparent poster boy have to land in this one? Not that Cloud supposed it mattered much since Tifa somehow knew Aerith and both ladies apparently loved pushing their own agendas onto himself.

He kept doing his assigned job though because Tifa (predictably) had put an embargo on anyone taking or swapping that particular job off Cloud. It did not help his mood or physical health. He could feel the onset of the cold and the day after having been stuck in an elevator with 3 military goons who had recognized him, as he had done basic training with two of them close to a decade ago, he crashed and couldn’t get out of his bed when his alarm went off at 11 in the morning. He couldn’t face another day of doing that job, even though today, most likely, he wouldn’t have to go to the hospital. The weeklong process of going through the hospital halls, seeing uniformed personnel, had completely sapped him of his already minimal pool of energy and it crescendoed today, so he slept the day and the next away. 

Tifa rang several times, checking in on Cloud, which he appreciated.

"I'm sorry, am I pushing you too hard? I can reduce your workload to five runs a day."

"Do I still need to cover the hospital?"

Silence greeted him for a few beats, "Is it really stressful for you?"

Cloud felt like such a pathetic weakling. Suddenly a surge of needing to ‘suck it up’ raced through him. "No. I think being around all the sick people is just making me sick. I’ll be okay in another day… I think.”

“Take as long as you need. Felix is doing the hospital runs for now. If you think it would be better for your health not to—” “No, really. I’ll be fine. Just give me back my usual runs when I’m back.”

“Okay.” Cloud hated his strong sense of duty.

_____________

Cloud returned to work and did his best to ignore the people around him. He went even later to the hospital, just to be on the safe side and as much as possible hid behind the flower arrangements he carried, especially when it came to the guard who was stationed at the door. Cloud still felt worn out by the almost daily ordeal but, with a sardonic huff, decided to soldier on.

As the weeks passed, he learned more about his comatose burden through the media. Nothing about the operation he had been involved in though, as that was deemed highly sensitive. He wasn’t one to watch the news, but found himself watching it now, just to get some information, especially when he heard conversations with phrases like 'such a shame’, 'cut down in his prime, ‘it's all too bad’, as he passed by people in the hospital.

He learned about all the honors, achievements, and military pursuits of the spirited young man who now lay unmoving and in a critical condition in a sterile hospital bed with intubators, drips, catheters and various other devices attached to himself. Cloud could appreciate the sadness of it, the tragedy of what had befallen this man, especially since the reports said he had worked tirelessly at saving his comrades and single-handedly kept the squad’s Sergeant alive. 

It dawned on him one day while standing there in the empty darkened room, surrounded by the staggering amount of flowers, that it almost felt like he was visiting a crypt. Yet there also sat awe in this place, because he bore witness to this barely-there military man, fighting and struggling for his life, even in this perfect stillness, which was punctured by the rasping breath through the oxygen mask and the soft sound of machinery in the background. The monument of decaying flowers, deflating balloons, knocked over 'get well's cards all spoke of one thing: the love of the people; those he had saved, those who knew him, the general public; they adored him and what he represented. Unwavering spirit, devotion, sacrifice, martyrdom. It was like the flowers were a farewell. 

Cloud stared at that physically manifested concept every time he stood in the room, trying to find a place for one more flower arrangement. One more tribute to lay at the foot of the living memorial. It left a sour taste in Cloud’s mouth. He understood that this man had been deemed a 'go-getter’ by his superiors. A real 'people person’ by his peers. Someone who had always joked and make sure all his comrades and anyone under and even above himself had been okay, which was what had made him such a great Corporal—had made him. All those things were now relegated to the past, a memory, a dream. And all for what…. Cloud got stuck on that thought and with pure derision, muttered, “Look where all that love and affection has gotten you. You’re stuck here, all alone, in a room full of dead things. And the public and military can’t even wait for you to be properly dead before turning your room into a grave.” Admittedly Cloud was having a rather glum sort of a pensive day.

He kept delivering flowers, kept watching the news late at night when he couldn’t sleep, despite being utterly physically and mentally exhausted. And he listened on the radio while driving his van. It was never anything terribly meaningful or insightful. All events from the battlefield, reports on casualties, and anything pertaining to the mission which had landed the man Cloud visited on an almost daily basis in the hospital, was barely forthcoming. The operation was still deemed too sensitive and top secret. So all the media could report on was Zack Fair.

Cloud felt somewhat entrapped by the man he had been made to visit. Zack Fair turned into a morbid oddity and curiosity; a form of Stockholm Syndrome perhaps. A trainwreck Cloud was glued to witnessing. He wondered if Zack would ever wake up. He wondered what the man was actually really like. He doubted anyone would ever speak badly of the man or call him out on any asshole-ish behavior while he was in such an in-between life and death state of existence. He couldn’t buy that this guy was so amazing, wonderful, kind, fun.  Sure, he sounded nice and like the exact type of person, Cloud avoided in his life. It sounded like a real shame for Corporal Fair to not recover from this. But maybe it also really wasn’t. Who knew? Cloud sure as hell didn’t, and wouldn’t know what the actual reality of the matter was unless the dead rose from his coma.

Cloud tried to not lose any more sleep over it and pushed his wonderings away, focusing on the job at hand, which in the end led him right back to the hospital, standing before his charge, staring down at him, thinking a myriad of conflicting thoughts. In the end, he always decided he didn’t care. He was getting paid. It was just the damn military personnel that got under his skin and made this the worst part of his day. He resented coming here. Hated that the comatose guy didn't just wake up, freeing Cloud of his obligations.

"You're one hell of a selfish son of a bitch," Cloud muttered another day, after having caught a half-heard conversation between the military personnel stationed outside of the door, bemoaning their station over having to watch and guard against media entry. "But keep giving them Hell out there," Cloud finished with a smile, liking the discomfort being inflicted on people who resented having to look after someone who apparently did crazy brave things, like sticking his neck out for other people. Cloud supposed the extra resentment outside might have something to do with a new spate of news that he had caught last night.

"You know you got a bunch of medals? I don't know if anyone's been in to inform you, but… congratulations," Cloud said with bitter amusement as he set the flowers down on the tray table. "You got a Medal of Honor, a Distinguished Service Cross, and a Silver Star Medal. You're one impressive guy, Corporal Fair." He bent down to look Zack in his more-akin-to-dead-than-alive face. His eyes trailed over the bandaged forehead, the patch over his left cheek, the mask covering his nose and mouth to help him breathe. 

"Hope it was worth being like this, man." Cloud was greeted with the even breathing, the whirring of machines, and the faint beep of the heart rate monitor.

He stood back up and left the room.

_____________

There came a point, somewhere around the 1-month mark of Cloud having started on his hospital delivery route, that things seemed to change a little. He arrived at the comatose man’s room to find the oxygen mask off and a considerable amount of equipment gone. The mountain of flowers also looked smaller and a more sensible amount. Cloud tested the room with a faint, “Hello?” but received no reply. He went over to the bed, warily inspecting the other man, who looked gaunt and pale, but a lot better for not having all that equipment and tubing attached to himself.

There was no motion, other than an even fall of the chest, and generally speaking, the man looked like he had always done while lying in this bed. Cloud left the flowers and headed out, catching Barbara before leaving. 

“How is Zack doing? He’s no longer on the oxygen mask.” “He is doing a lot better, yes. His independent breathing improved so he doesn't need the respirator.” She wasn’t willing to give much more information than that, so Cloud left to return the van and go home to sleep, which came a little easier to him that night.

It was also roughly around the 1-month mark that Cloud began enjoying his trips to the hospital a little, especially on rough days because an almost comatose person couldn't give him any flack for not arriving precisely, to the second, on time. They weren’t going to back-chat or give him the stink-eye. Other than the military being everywhere, Cloud relaxed considerably when coming here every second day. The walk through the hall was uncomfortable but he would grab an awful cup of coffee, hurry to his target’s location, not even be acknowledged by the security anymore as Cloud was as good as the bland decor around the hospital, and dumped the flowers wherever he found space. He then sat down in the uncomfortable guest chair and peacefully drank his burnt coffee. 

That routine and place almost became like a sanctuary. Sure, he had to traverse Hell to get to it, but it was pleasant when he got there. He found it nice to not be in a mad rush, nice not having to do small talk. And then two weeks after the respirator had come out, the military finally, for the most part, departed. Things were getting even better for Cloud.

One day, he had been in a frantic rush the entire day due to massive traffic congestions absolutely everywhere he had to get to. Exhausted and starved he grabbed whatever looked least offensive at the hospital cafeteria and made his way to the ICU. Once he had deposited yet another exquisite bouquet, he slumped into the guest chair, which had been cleared of flowers a while ago, and relaxed with a deep sigh. 

“God, what a day from hell,” he bemoaned and after a few beats of breathing and quiet, he sat up straight and opened his styrofoam food container. 

“I’m sure you don’t mind me eating in here, right?” Cloud glanced at the only other occupant of the room. “I mean, I do bring you all these flowers, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who regularly visits. So, if you’re not going to thank me, the least you could afford me is to let me use you like a tray table, huh.”

Cloud looked at the way the body in the bed lay almost lifeless. A steady beating and shallow rise and fall of the chest were the only signs of life.

Taking the prolonged silence as permission, Cloud dug into his meal. Was it strange talking to an unconscious person? It didn’t feel any stranger than talking to himself late at night. It was about as enlightening, but he weirdly enough did enjoy the idea of another set of ears listening, without receiving dumb and pointless input.

“You’re not missing out on much with this food,” Cloud informed as he chewed. “Too dry and rubbery. But food’s food. And bad burnt coffee is still caffeine.” He took a sip, scrunched up his face and placed the cup carefully onto the bed before himself.

He ate the rest of his meal in silence, mulling over his schedule. When he was done he tidied up and got up. “Well, it was fun, Zack. It’s okay if I call you Zack, right? Or you prefer Sergeant Fair? All your new fancy medals aside, you also got a promotion, y’know?” Cloud looked and got no response. “Zack it is then. See ya later.” And with that he left, feeling far more energized after a meal and some liquid energy.

_____________

Cloud kept coming because Aerith kept ordering flower arrangements to be delivered. He lingered ever longer in that room, finding it oddly meditative. Zack's silent company reminded Cloud of his old family dog, and as Cloud sat in the chair, thinking about it, he almost reached over to pay the comatose man's head. He caught himself though and chuckled about it.

He wondered more and more about the man he was tasked with 'keeping company,' for he did keep him company more often than not. With the military gone, bar for a patrol here and there and the occasional door check, the hospital had a far more relaxed atmosphere, and Cloud found himself less drained and ready to crash by the time he got home. He figured if he was going to stay up anyway, he might as well do it whilst in someone's company.

Cloud sat and used this hospital room as his private dining hall, eating evening meals he had picked up from the cafeteria or from a fast food joint outside. He also sometimes checked his phone while he ate, reading articles, playing games. It was nice and quiet, just how he liked it. And while he did these things he also cast glances over to the sleeping man. The glances turned to gazes, where he studied the man's face and the way his chest rose and fell, shallow and at rest. 

Sometimes he got stuck in his head, replaying all that he knew of the other man and all he had seen on the TV. It was a peaceful, quiet evening in early spring. He had a tray of hospital food in his lap, his phone in one hand and a spork in the other when the thoughts that bothered him the most fell out of his mouth in a hushed tone, “What kind of food do you like, Zack? Bet the answer isn't hospital food,” he muttered whilst putting another forkful of green mush into his mouth. 

Predictably, there was no response.

“I know what school you went to. I know how hard you worked to get to where you were. I vaguely know about the mission you were on when this happened to you—that’s all the news talks about. Well, they also talk about how whatever you were involved with is still highly top secret so the public isn’t allowed to know the specific details of it. It's been nearly 2 months now since you landed here, and who knows how much time you spent in the field hospital before you were brought here. Smells like a cover-up, if you ask me. I hope you’re not gonna be like some scapegoat for them,” that thought riled Cloud up, but he tried to relax and changed the subject, “But anyway, all that stuff in the media doesn’t actually answer the real questions I have, like what’s your favorite color? Why did you think that mullet was a good look for you in high school? Yeah, the news channels love pulling out that photo of you in your yearbook.”

More silence greeted him and Cloud also fell silent again.

He kept his visitations up, he kept asking Zack random things, but got bored of not having anything answered and soon ran out of things he wondered about without repeating himself. So instead, he used Zack as a way to vent his frustrations with work, and some of the people he had to engage with. 

“Did you know that Mr. Storgeno wanted all blue cocktail umbrellas? Well, I didn't either, until he opened up the box right in front of me and started complaining about it. Like I packed that box myself and purposefully put green and red umbrellas into the packet, just to spite him. Kinda wish I had,” he finished in a mutter.

He had many more stories to tell about how he—the messenger—got shot, in the proverbial sense. Venting like this made Cloud feel lighter every time he left the hospital at the end of his day.

That was Cloud’s life; struggle to wake in the mornings, struggle to stay awake in the day during work, dealing with pleasant and unpleasant people alike, and then dropping by the hospital on the days it was on his roster, to chill out before going home where he’d have a battle to shut off in order to get a good night’s sleep.

The days and weeks passed. The military continued their stance of keeping quiet to protect national interests, and so, public interest diminished. The media in front of the hospital dwindled, there were no more sensational headlines, and news of Zack Fair faded into the background and complete obscurity as the months Zack spent in hospital turned to 3.

Cloud still caught sight of the occasional military uniform, much to his chagrin. He managed to avoid them mostly, and came and went undetected as Zack’s security didn’t seem very dedicated to their job, especially as the public no longer had any interest in the man stuck in the ICU ward.

It was one unremarkable evening; Cloud had finished all his deliveries, bar one. Exhaustion clung to him, weighing him down. He went to the coffee station on his way to Zack’s room, pulling his hat over his face as he passed the goons, who stood near the coffee station, cups in hands.

“Did ya hear that they’re gonna continue paying him an on-active-duty wage? The guy’s barely alive from what I’ve seen,” grumbled a burly military man into his cup of coffee.

“And here we are, gettin’ paid less than the guy we are here to guard. Just makes ya wanna spit,” the smaller of the two men responded. 

“I’ll tell ya what, Biggs, if I were in charge of the budget I’d find better things to spend it on. Why’s he even need all this special attention? Stick him in the public sector. My sister-in-law’s a nurse over at the fifth district. Says they have all the same equipment.” “The big wiggs gotta put on a show. Make it look like they actually give a shit about their employees. Makes for a hella PR stunt.”

“Ya don’t think the whole thing was a setup to begin with, do ya?”

"No clue. They tell us jack shit."

Cloud had enough. He slapped on a lid for his coffee rather violently and spilling nearly half his drink. Hissing, he grabbed for napkins to mop up the mess and dry himself off a little. He felt eyes on himself and lowered his head, as well as turning away slightly. He unfortunately still heard it though—

"Ya heard the rumors that General Strife’s son doing deliveries around here, haven’t ya?"

Cloud's nostrils flared.

"Deliveries…” a derisive laugh followed. "Is that the only thing that kid's good for? If that was my son I’d be disappointed. I heard everyone in that family has some foot in the army. To be doing deliveries," disappointed tutting followed.

"I know what ya mean." 

The voices sounded louder as if directed at Cloud. He threw the soiled napkins in the bin and rushed off, coffee and bouquet in each hand, heading down the hall and away from the muttonheads.

He barged into Zack’s room, dumped the bouquet at the foot of the bed and started pacing.

“How dare those jerks talk about you like that. After all you did. This is what I hate. The backstabbing, two-faced bullshit. Being treated like a number and a burden!" 

He was in full swing—pacing around the room and fuming. “I can see it in their smug, douchey faces, you know. The derision. The pity. I don't need anyone's pity. I never asked for anyone's pity. And they throw that same shit at you. At least you can't see or hear it. You're a national hero, but they try to brush you off like you don't exist. Like you're broken. That's what they all do, you know. If you don't cut it they cut you off, and let you go." Cloud stomped, his hands flew around wildly gesticulating as he kept ranting, "They love nothing more than to hammer home what an epic disappointment you are to the whole fucking family,” he slammed his fist into the wall with a low growl. The pain radiated up his arm. It helped to sober him up and cool him off a little. He breathed furiously and stared at the wall, which had become rather blurry through the tears welling up in his eyes. 

He listened to the buzzing of machinery in the room. His ragged breathing and the steady beeping of Zack’s heart rate monitor cut through the slight ringing in his ears. Yet the beeping sounded a fraction faster than what it had been before.

“Sorry,” Cloud muttered and turned back to face the room. He stared at Zack's unchanging body for a while before he shuffled back toward the comatose man. Picking up the bouquet as he went, he sank down into the now-familiar chair and placed the flowers on the table where he should have put them to begin with. “I hate it, y’know. I hate what you do and the organization you work for. And if you were to wake up right now—well, I'd hate to think that I’d probably hate you too.” His heart felt heavy. Most of all he hated that it was the truth. As upset as he felt right now, he wasn’t saying this to be vindictive; nothing but honesty left his mouth.

He gave a hard stare at the man on the bed before him. His face was turned away, and Cloud thought it for the best as he spoke in a slow, semi-whisper, “A part of me hopes you won’t pull through.” He cast eyes to the floor. He felt awful admitting it. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be doing this. And most of all, I don’t wanna know you because… because if I got to actually know you through something other than the media, I'd probably end up really liking you. It's easy to hate you when they espouse you to be the poster child of the military. I don't want to like you. I don't want to hate you. Fuck, I don't know." Cloud clutched his head, flinging off his hat and rubbing at his hair furiously. "I don't mean that. I'd rather think the best of you, really. But…" he sighed, "you also don't seem like someone I would ever get along with. Everyone seems to love you—I mean, I don't think I've ever seen a room so full of flowers and get-well wishes on cards. You know, the cleaners have to clear out your room once a week to stop this place from becoming a jungle? That's how much people like you. I mean, I don't know if they are from personal friends and family, but… it doesn't even matter. It’s been three months and you still get so much love showered your way. You're like an amazing poster child. The media made it sound like you were a prodigy; super good at your job; such a bright future ahead of you. That's what I hear the shitheads outside say about you too—the ones who envy you. That's what it is, you know, jealousy and envy. And I know  because…” he huffed. “But here you are, nearly dead. Bet no one envies that.. Bet they wouldn't have the guts to be the kind of guy you were—are. I don't even know whether you're dead or alive. All I know is that you're everything I hate in a person. You're everything I wish I could have been. Shit. I don't know. I'm just ranting, ignore me." Cloud sat up straight and replaced his hat.

With a heavy sigh, he continued, “It’s a pretty shit way to feel about someone, especially since I don't even know you. Look, I guess all I know is that from everything I've seen and heard, you sound… really irritating. I guess it’s not the fairest assessment to be making about a person.” Cloud, leaning back down to rest his forearms on his thighs, knit his fingers together and stared at his hands. “I probably sound like a real asshole. I guess I am. And to be honest, if you woke up and I found out you were somewhat of an asshole, that would make me like you more. It would give you a redeemable quality.” Cloud huffed out some sad amusement and looked up at the man he had just admonished. “Or maybe I want you to be an ass so I can feel better about myself.”

He righted himself from where he had slumped. “But all that being said… I actually kind of do hope you pull through. I’m not evil. Or maybe I am.” Cloud cast a glance toward the currently frosted-over privacy windows that looked into the ICU ward. “I want you to prove everyone out there wrong. It’s disgusting the derisive pity and platitudes they all spout. I'm sure you deserve better than that. I'm sure you don't need their shit.” Cloud sighed and picked up the coffee cup he had set down amongst the bouquets. He took a sip and grimaced. “And I'm also pretty sure I deserve better coffee than this.” He aimed and threw the cup toward the bin near the door. He hit his mark and collected himself so he could walk out of the room with an air of aloofness.

“Anyway, good chat, I guess. See you later.”

_____________

Deciding he didn't want to take on his colleagues workload, as he felt rather run down, he arrived very early in the afternoon at the hospital. Cloud wandered down the hospital hall, carrying another bouquet to its usual destination and felt rather anxious. The thought of how long it had actually been since  his delivery recipient had landed in the ICU began bothering him. The fact that Zack was still in the same state as the first day Cloud had done his delivery grew disconcerting for him. Yes, the man didn’t need a machine anymore to help him breathe; yes, several more of the intensive care equipment had slowly been moved out of the room, but Zack was still there. Was he brain-dead? Was he improving? Cloud tried to not think about the other man too much, but lately it ate into his sleep and he could feel the onset of another unwell period settling in. He hated how he could practically feel himself slipping into the prodromal phase of his condition. He needed to get some good sleep tonight if he hoped to not crash and burn in the morning. So he stopped by the nurse's station to see if he could get some information.

“Evening Simon,” he said of the man dressed in dark scrubs and a hazel complexion.

“Hi, Cloud. That's another very lovely bouquet you got there.”

“Aerith is a master when it comes to this stuff. I don't think any of the ones I've brought in have been the same.”

“I think you're right. But what can I do for you? You don't make a habit of stopping by for a chat.”

“Ah, just wanted to know how Zack was doing. He's still in the ICU after all this time. That doesn't seem right. Will he be okay?”

Simon looked past Cloud to where Zack's room was. “Considering how on a knife's edge he was, he's doing remarkably well. He's been such a delight, it's almost a shame that we'll be moving him next week.”

Cloud stared, baffled by everything the other man has just said. “He's being moved?”

“Yeah. Getting his own private area, up on the fifth floor of the residential rehabilitation wing. It’s pretty nice up there.”

“Wouldn't he be better off staying down here?”

“No. He's out of imminent danger. Plus, he’s been asking to be moved for the last two weeks.”

“A-asking? But he's out cold.” A sinking feeling grew.

Simon looked confused. “He's been pretty vocal. For someone in his shape, he's been remarkably upbeat these past few weeks. You don’t know that he’s awake?”

If it were possible to feel sea-sick on land, Cloud experienced it at that moment. “No.” The nurse hummed. “Maybe you keep coming in when he's sleeping?”

Cloud really hoped that was what was going on, but his brain went to the worst-case scenario; mocking betrayal. “Yeah. Must be it.”

Cloud took his leave and headed to the room. The windows were frosted over for privacy. As he approached a man with raven hair, and a woman with ebony curls, and an olive complexion, exit the room. They didn't appear to be the regular military personnel; wearing casual clothes as the sting of winter had gone. 

As the parties passed each other the woman stopped Cloud in his tracks. “Excuse me, are those for my son?”

Cloud looked toward Zack's room and back at the couple, both of which were a good five inches taller than himself. “A delivery for Zack Fair.”

The man and woman gave him big, good-natured smiles.

“So you must be Cloud,” she said.

Strangers knowing his name always unnerved him. “Ahhh, yeah—that's me,” he answered warily. Cloud had his hand taken and shaken in turn by both of them.

“We can't thank you enough for keeping our son company. We know that it means a lot to him.”

Indignation started to build, but he kept his cool. “There's nothing to thank me for.”

“Oh, come now. Don't be so modest,” the rather-fit-for-a-middle-aged man said, smiling broadly. He clapped Cloud on the shoulder.

“You have been such a great help to our Zack. Thank you,” the woman looked to want to pull Cloud into a hug, but the flowers he held seemed to dissuade her, to Cloud’s relief.

“If we can ever repay you for the kindness, please let us know,” the man said.

“Oh, n-no, that’s not… I’m just doing my job,” Cloud stammers lightly.

He received more warm smiles an ‘thank you’s before the woman urged, “Dear, we should be leaving, and let Cloud get on with his work.”

“Right, right. Thank you again for looking after our son.”

With that the couple hurried off, leaving Cloud staring at the now offending room before himself. He thought about not going in. He'd obviously been played. But he had a job to do, so he inhaled sharply and ventured forward.

On opening the door he was greeted by a wholly unfamiliar voice, “Hey, mom, pop did you—”

Cloud stood in the doorway, glaring daggers

The bright smile vanished even before the sheets were flung over the bedridden man's head and the lump under the blanket shuffled flat against the mattress. Faux snoring sounded moments later.

Cloud stood and his hard-as-steel glare broke at the ridiculousness of the scene playing out before him. It might have been amusing if Cloud wasn’t getting red hot with anger and embarrassment.

He closed the door behind himself and moved toward the bed, a frown playing on his lips. He went to the bed and dropped the flowers on the tray table, making the flimsy plastic rattle. “Another bouquet from Aerith,” was his business-as-usual greeting.

Cloud received no response other than the snoring quieting down a little. He glared and made a snap decision. “I’m not coming back here.” Humiliation burned. Cloud turned to flee the situation and feelings. He’d rather quit his job than make one more delivery to this place. He was going to tell Tifa as much.

“No, Cloud. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole, I know. But that’s why you should stay,” came the hasty and guilty admission in a low, rusty timbre.

Cloud stopped before he reached the door. Without turning back he agreed with the man, “You are an asshole.”

“But it’s my redeemable feature, right?” Zack laid out gently.

It took all of Cloud’s energy to keep his body from trembling with outrage and mortification. How long had this bastard been faking it? “Does Aerith know that you’re awake?” he got out through grit teeth, wanting to know how deep this farcical ruse went.

A few beats of silence. And then, “She visited last week,” came the muttered response.

The outrage erupted. An actual growl rumbled in the back of CLoud’s throat. Through grit teeth, he snapped, “And?”

“Aaaand—we talked and had a really nice time,” came the small, chastened voice.

Cloud huffed, sharply. His clenched fist trembled and his heart hammered. The flash of heat inside his body sprang to his cheeks. He thought he could die from embarrassment. She had known. He had seen her this late morning and she had said nothing to him. He didn’t know who he was madder at. “Good luck with your life,” he spat over his shoulder, without looking at the bane of his existence, and marched to the door.

“I’m so sorry,” came the plea. “Please don’t leave. Let me ex—”

Cloud slammed the door behind himself and hurried out, ignoring any looks or questions of concern he received. His whole body trembled with burning outrage by the time he got to the car. He couldn’t go back to work to drop the van off. He couldn’t face Tifa without snapping at her and unleashing all his anger at her, because she must have known as well. 

Cloud went home and passed out in his bed.

[noahreids]

Beauty in the Aftermath (CS FF) | 11/14

Summary: Confronted with the sudden appearance of her birth parents, Emma, in a moment of panic, runs. She flees the diner, Storybrooke, the country. She finds herself a day later in the Dublin, Ireland Airport terminal wondering what the hell she has gotten herself into. With some fear, a little determination and a considerable amount of faking it along the way, she sets off on a trip she never planned on taking but needed more than she ever knew. She finds herself, she finds a Brit adrift on his own journey and finds out what home really means.

Rated: M (Sexual content in later this chapter & some Irish whiskey along the way).

Also on: AO3 | FFN Tumblr: [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 ] Art!: Cover | Ch.1 | Ch.3 | Ch.5 | Ch.7 | Ch.9 |

A/N: Thanks always, always, always. So many of you have taken time to leave me comments, kudos and likes and each and every one is noticed and appreciated. Thank you.  

Always, thanks to @shippingtheswann for the cheering and beta work (go read her wonderful story!), @imagnifika for finding the heart of the story with her art, @halobxist & @meanderingcaptainswanmusings for everything xo. And please keep supporting all the other CSBB authors and artists. The content everyone is bringing is truly amazing.

And now for that elusive private room!

Chapter 11

Despite their best efforts, none of their hopeful plans have materialized. Emma has yet to find the courage to open her envelope or ask her questions and Killian’s promise of a private room disappeared with the fun they were having at the campground. The pleas from their new group of friends to stay just one more night had been too hard to resist and the result is, Emma’s booking schedule has gone completely off the rails. The original extra night in Londonderry hadn’t helped but they could have gotten back on schedule by skipping a stop, but between meeting Anna and Kristoff, two extra nights of camping in Westport, (including bunking with new travel mates, Will and Robin, both of whom were very nice men -- yet not the ones she wanted to be sharing a room with), there’s no salvaging the planned reservations anymore.

Which means, every night from now until the end is a gamble, and not one Emma is particularly thrilled about. While it was fun to throw some caution to the wind, she liked the security of knowing she had a bed. She can’t imagine how Killian has done it for so many nights, weeks, hell, months at a time.

Which is probably why now, a little tired, a little sore from two lovely nights on the ground, she’s a little more vocal about guaranteeing a comfortable place to sleep.

“How long do you think this is going to take? I really don’t want to miss check in,” Emma grumbles through breaths she is desperately trying to slow, though thanks to the challenging hike they’re on, it’s proving difficult to breathe at all.

“I would assume it will take as long as it needs to, darling.” There was a sarcastic edge to his voice, causing Emma to stick out her tongue, so what if he was up ahead and unable to see her.

“It’ll be easy, they said. It will be fun, they said,” Emma mumbles, digging her walking stick into the rocky terrain, angry at the hike that was much more demanding than she had anticipated.

“We could be sipping beer and listening to music in Galway right now,” Killian throws over his shoulder, he himself slipping on one of the many smooth and slippery stones. “Blasted rocks.”

Emma snickers at his curse, happy to see he is having about as much fun as she is.

“You said and I quote, it’ll just be a jaunt, Swan,” Emma throws back in a very bad attempt at a British accent.

Killian stops and looks back, one eyebrow lifting lazily, mouth set in a line.

“I seem to recall you asking me if I was too scared to do this.”

She stomps up to him and presses a finger into his chest.

“We’re doing this because I teased you?”

She throws her hands up and pushes past him, stick digging into the ground, breath puffing out in loud pants.

“Slow down, Emma, you’ll hurt yourself.”

She holds up her middle finger behind her before cringing when she sees the tiny chapel way, way, way in the distance.

“Sorry,” she mumbles but then adds, “couldn’t Saint Patrick have pilgrimmed somewhere flatter?”

“Ah, but where would the challenge be in that?” a voice comes from her side and she looks over to see a man about her age, easily navigating the deteriorating path.

She gives him a half smile but picks up her pace, his ease a quiet competition. She sees a plateau coming up over the ridge and in her mind that means rest and a water break, she quickens her pace.

She takes a few more reckless steps before she manages to step on a rock that is a little too smooth, a little too loose and she’s falling.

Her cry is half caught in her throat and there’s a brief moment she thinks of how badly it’s going to hurt when she hits the ground, but two strong arms wrap around her middle, saving her from injury.

“Whoa, I got you.”

She blinks up, her adrenaline pumping, expecting to see Killian but finding the stranger instead. He settled her on her feet but keeps his hands on her hips.

“Ok?” he asks and she nods dumbly, eyes already searching for Killian, and he’s there, right behind. But to her surprise he looks more upset than before, his walking stick on the ground, hand clenched in a fist.

“Um, yeah, thanks,” Emma mumbles finally stepping away, glancing to her rescuer briefly before back to Killian.

“No problem, always happy to lend a hand. It’s not a race. See you at the top!”

The stranger gives her a wink and he’s on his way again. Before long, he’s barely a dot on the horizon and completely out of earshot.

Emma finally gives a nervous laugh and looks to Killian.

“I guess I could have just tucked and rolled. Faster way to the bottom.”

Her joke falls flat, she barely gets a reaction from him, save for the clenching in his jaw.

“Mmm,” he mumbles, reaching down for his stick and takes a few slow steps past her.

“Hey, wait, that’s it?” she asks, catching up, mind you, keeping her eyes downcast to take surer steps.

“What do you want me to say? Clearly I’m useless.”

She pulls up short at his statement and watches him continue to climb, head down.

“What in the world does that mean?” she calls out, starting out again. When he doesn’t answer and they finally reach some flatter ground, she reaches out for his arm but he pulls it away roughly.

“Killian. Stop.”

She sees the tight set of his shoulders when he finally stops, and she watches him breathe in deep shuddering breaths.

She has no idea what’s going on, so the question rolls quickly off her tongue.

“Killian, what the hell is going on?”

The jaw clench again.

She takes a calming breath and walks around to face him. She opens her mouth to speak, but pauses when two older women slowly walk by. She nods to them both and takes a step closer to her now visibly upset hiker.

“Hey, are you going to tell me what’s going on? Killian, look at me.”

She lays her hand on his wrist and she feels him flinch but at least he doesn’t move away.

“Look, I’m sorry I was complaining. I just really want this day to be about finding a comfortable bed, preferably with you in it and no one else around.”

“You think that’s what this is about?” he suddenly asks, surprising them both with the tone of his voice. She frowns, completely at a loss.

“Well, I honestly have no idea then.”

She plants her hands on her hips and waits from him to fill her in. When he doesn’t speak right away, she looks out at the vista below. It’s beautiful, green rolling hills, deep blue waters of Clew Bay and dozens of tiny islands dotting the area. She finally begins to see what the fuss this hike is about but -- it’s nothing without Killian to enjoy it with and a glance confirms he’s not seeing the same thing she is. He’s looking down at his brace and seeming as looking as helpless as she’s ever seen him.

“Killian, please,” she tries again, gentler this time and he finally looks up, looks into her eyes.

“You’ve never asked me about my hand.”

She almost rocks back on her heels at the statement, so startled by it, and while true, it’s definitely not what she thought the problem was.

“I, um, I’m sorry?” she finally settles on, her statement coming out as a question.

He huffs out a laugh in disbelief.

“You’re sorry? No, I’m the one the couldn’t reach out for you. This useless thing probably would have made matters worse.”

He lifts his brace that this holding his hooked prosthetic, before dropping it in disgust.

“Hey, wait a second, stop.”

She reaches out for him, grasping him above the brace and not letting him pull away this time. She holds on tightly but letting him look away, letting the emotions run across his face. First anger, then frustration, and finally resignation before he turns back to her and closes his eyes.

“Killian, I’m sorry I never asked. When we first met, it seemed rude to ask, I didn’t know how to approach it and then as we got to know each other, I just stopped thinking about it. It’s just another part of you. Really, I’m sorry--”

“Please don’t,” he whispers but she pushes on.

“No. It’s a part of you and it’s insensitive of me to not face and for that I’m sorry, but don’t for a second think yourself useless. What happened just now, that was all me. I was stomping along, way ahead and that guy just happened to be there. Be mad that I’m an insensitive jerk but not that you couldn't swoop in like Superman.”

Finally, thankfully, she sees a small ray of hope. A smile, albeit very small. The corner of his mouth pulls up a little and she mirrors it, feeling a little better.

“You’re not a jerk,” he finally mumbles and focuses on her, eyes a little lighter, shoulders dropping. “You’re okay? You didn’t twist your ankle or anything?” he asks, hand reaching up to cup her cheek. She turns her head and presses a kiss to his palm.

“I’m fine. I promise. Why don’t we sit down, eat some of our snacks and then walk back? I don’t want to see the top anyway.”

She takes his hand and pulls him towards some larger rocks, and finds a place to sit. He follows without protest but remains quiet. She sits crossed legged, facing him and pulls his arm with the brace into her lap.

“Will you tell me? Do you want to tell me?” she asks shyly, fingers hesitant for the first time on his arm, drawing a line down his arm to where skin meets his brace.

He looks out towards the view below, eyes taking in the same beautiful landscape as she had but she’s not sure he’s really seeing it, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“It’s actually a stupid story.”

“Killian,” she admonishes him but he shrugs.

“It is. After my brother died, I -- I didn’t really know how to cope. I was reckless. I went out a lot, I drank, I picked fights. There is something to be said for getting punched in the face that makes you feel alive for a split second.”

She tries to keep her face impassive, she knows he doesn’t want her pity, and really it’s not pity. She just knows what it’s like to be alone, and wishes she could have saved him from the sadness and pain she hears in his voice.

“One night, I picked a fight with the wrong guy. Or guys, I guess. They never really figured it out and I honestly didn’t care at the time. I just woke up in a hospital, with a concussion, a lot of broken bones, one less hand, and a doctor telling me I was lucky to still be alive.”

“Oh, Killian,” her words slip out before she can stop herself but he doesn’t seem to mind. She hurts for him, for who he was and all that he lost.

He shrugs like it’s not some life changing event, and she knows he doesn’t want her to make it a big deal but her reaction is beyond what she can reign in. She lifts up to her knees and wraps him in a tight hug.  

She’s happy to feel his arms hold her just as tight.

When she sits back down, she takes his arm again, drawing gentle patterns on his arm, never taking her eyes away from his face.

“Did you start travelling after that?” she asks, curious.

He nods slowly.

“Obviously my clothes had been cut off, or too bloodied up to keep but somehow, someone, I don’t know if it was a doctor or a nurse found the crumpled paper in my pocket. It was the menu Liam had written our travel plans on and they left it beside my bed. It was the only thing salvaged and it served to remind me how fucking disappointed Liam would have been seeing me there. I bought my first plane ticket as soon as I was well enough to go.”

“And here you are.”

“Here I am,” he agrees. “Whiny American blondes and all,” he adds and her eyes widen.

And now he does laugh, full-bellied, head thrown back and all Emma can do is wrap him up in a hug again, arms tight around his neck, nearly knocking them off their rock but Killian manages to keep them balanced, holding her just as close.

She can’t imagine being anywhere else.She can’t imagine being with anyone else. More words threatening to spill out.

Something important on the tip of her tongue. Something a lot like love.

xo

They scribble a note and leave it on the windshield of Anna and Kristoff’s winnebago, both eager to get out of the parking lot and towards some privacy. Killian doesn’t protest when Emma gets behind the wheel, the earlier events still weighing on his conscience. Emma doesn’t mind, putting the music on low and concentrating on the road, her own thoughts bouncing around in her mind.

She’s grateful to be back on flatter terrain. The roads were definitely still more narrow than back in Storybrooke but besides that, it was an easy drive past small homesteads and fields, the sky overcast but free of rain. Silence filling the car for most of the ride, but Killian still helped her through exits and roundabouts, giving her thigh a squeeze after each grateful smile before looking back out the window.

It’s only when she catches him working the skin above his brace that she thinks to speak up again, and even then she hesitates, mouth opening and closing before silently reprimanding herself and and finally pushing the words out.

“I really am sorry for not asking you about your injury. I don’t want you to think I would just ignore something like that. Something that is a part of you.”

His hand pauses and he looks over.

“No, of course not, love. Think nothing of it.”

But she shakes her head.

“It’s just that I can be a coward, about a lot of things but I really don’t want to be a coward with you,” she explains, hands once again tight on the wheel. His hand brushes over her knuckles and she loosens her hold a little.

“You are far from a coward, Emma.”

“Yeah, say that to the enveloppe sitting at the bottom of my bag and the couple who gave it to me still waiting for some news.”

“Emma,” he starts but she holds up her hand.

“Look at what you’ve done. You’ve travelled the world --”

“Running away from my problems.”

She shakes her head.

“You’re on the trip you and your brother always planned on doing.”

“Emma, it took me years to make this trip and I honestly don’t know if i ever would have made it past Derry if I hadn’t had you at my side.”

“Derry was my fault,” she whispers and he physically turns in his seat, face incredulous.

“Excuse me? Please enlighten me.”

“Well, I mean, think of if you had never met me--”

“No.”

“Killian, let me finish,” she says and it’s without malice. It’s actually said with a bit of a laugh at his expression, his absolute refusal to play her game.

“Absolutely not. I know what you are going to try and say and it’s rubbish. I refuse to even let you say the words. And it’s an impossibility anyway, how could I ever picture a world you aren’t in now that you’re in mine?”

What is she supposed to say to that?

“Good,” he finally says after a bout of silence. “Take the next left,” he adds when their last turn appears.

She carefully takes the next turn and it’s just a few more miles before they pull into the lot of a large, bright yellow building and she kills the motor. His hand closes over hers.

“Emma, I think you are the best thing that could have ever happened to me on this trip. You gave me the courage to face, well, anything, and when you’re ready to face your own ghosts, I’ll be right here. That could be right now or tomorrow or whenever.”

She searches his face for the lie.

“I’m really a mess,” she mumbles but he simply shakes his head and pulls her hand to his lips.

“Who isn’t?”

She thinks a little and shrugs, finally offering a true smile.

“There she is. Now let’s go see if they indeed kept our reservation for the elusive private room.”

And with that, and his arched eyebrow, she can’t get to the front desk fast enough.

xo

The place turns out to be more like a bed and breakfast. The owners are kind and quick to offer homemade snacks from the kitchen while they explain the ins and out of their stay: when breakfast is served in the morning, the twenty-four hour shuttle service that’s available to get to restaurants and bars, and a little bit about the small town.

They must give the same description dozens of times a week but they manage to sound as enthusiastic and friendly as people who are just opening their doors for the first time.

“And how long have you been operating this place?” Emma asks as one of the owners slides the key into their door.

“Oh, well, Matthew, our son, is twenty-one, so it’ll be twenty-two years this fall. Even our boys help out. You’ll see them in the morning,” she explains and pushes the door open, leading them in. “And here we are.”

The light to the room flickers on, bathing it in a warm yellow light, revealing the largest room they’ve stayed in to date. Although, most striking is instead of the standard four bunk beds, the room holds one set in the corner but a large queen bed takes up most of the space right in the middle.

Emma nearly groans at the sight of it.

She manages to wait until the owner leaves but as soon as she gently closes the door behind her, Emma’s bag is unceremoniously dropped and she launches herself into the big bed.

“Oh, I feel like a queen,” she exclaims, arms and legs thrown out wide, covering as much of the bed as she can. “I can barely believe it. I almost forgot what it feels like.”

Killian is more patient, hanging his coat, placing both their bags on chairs. He leans back against the door, seeming content to watch her.

“What are you doing? Come here, experience this,” Emma asks, turning to her side and patting the bed.

He looks at the spot and then looks at her and suddenly the air in the room seems heavier. Like she’s only realized just now that they are really alone, no one to bother them, nowhere to go, just all this time available to them, and she’s not sure if she feels like she’s drowning in the weight of the expectation of it all or ready to swim right across to him.

“Should I get us some food first?”

“Or I can shower first?”

Their questions come at the same time and she laughs, falling to her back and staring up at the ceiling. She counts the wood beams running across until they are blocked out by Killian leaning over her.

“Hi,” she whispers.

He shakes his head and leans in to leave her with a parting kiss.

“You shower. I’ll go find some food.”

She nods and watches him leave. It’s only when she hears the door click and his footsteps fading away that she brings the pillow over her face and groans.

After a beat, she drops the pillow and looks towards the shower.

“Shower it is.”

xo

She ends up taking her time in the shower. It loosens her sore muscles and lessens her worries, although it doesn’t do anything to diminish the realization that she has Killian all to herself. That they are finally alone and that so much has been leading to this.

He had been right the other night in the shower. Their tryst had done nothing but make her even more aware of how badly she wanted him. And she could tell every time she caught his eye he felt the same. She feels her belly tighten with a desire, she’s never felt before and she hurries to get out of the shower, knowing exactly what she wants and for once she’s going to take it.

She wraps herself in a towel and quickly runs one through her hair, not caring if she gets the floor wet. She tosses the extra towel in the sink and thinks if she hurries she can be waiting for him when get back.

But when she steps out, she nearly runs into Killian, who is just stepping back into the room with a plate teeming with food.

“I, uh, hope you’re hungry,” he offers, eyes roving over her form.

She’s pretty sure he’s watching the water drip down her neck, disappearing between the valley of her breasts, just beyond the towel.

“Oh yeah, I could definitely eat… or...”

She’s not looking at the food at all.

His eyes look up but he seems at a loss for words. She feels a small thrill at the way he swallows hard.  

“I think…” she starts and takes the plate from him and puts it down on the table and crowds into his space. His back hits the wall, and she feels his quick exhale against her skin.

Her nipples tighten under the towel.

“I’m quite filthy, love.”

She squeezes her thighs together.

“I don’t care.”

“But you’re so clean.”

He draws a fingers across her collarbone and she closes her eyes at the touch. She’s so keyed up, he may as well be drawing that same finger between her legs.

She opens her eyes and fixes him with a stare.

“I’ll shower again later, I’ll even keep you company.”

He laughs but still hesitates, not agreeing but not yet moving anymore than that one frustrating finger, back and forth, dipping a little lower to run over the top of her breasts.

“You smell fucking good enough to eat.”

“So have a taste.”

His eyes darken and his hand pauses, so she takes matters into her own hands, pulling the towel apart and letting it drop to the floor.

“Christ,” he mumbles, “you’re so fucking beautiful.” And finally, his hand cups her naked hip, pulling her tight against him. She hiccups out a small cry when she braces her hands against his chest. His lips are a breath from hers when she pulls back.

“Wait. You have way too many clothes on.”

She gives herself a bit of room and helps him with his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind her before hesitating over his brace.

He almost always already has it off before climbing into bed, or just isn’t wearing it but this is the first time where she can really reach out and touch.

“Can I?” she asks, fingers drifting to the strap over his shoulder.

He nods and this time she doesn’t hesitate to help it over his shoulder blade, loosening the hold it has. He helps her, getting one arm out and showing her how he pulls off the brace, all the while, eyes hesitantly flicking up to hers.

When it’s off, and she smiles, she expects him to place it somewhere on a table but when she bites her lip, it’s dropped to the floor and he’s on her before she can say anything else. His hand cups her breast, and his head is just descending when there’s a knock at the door.  

“Don’t you dare stop,” she whispers through clenched teeth.

His eyes light up and he spins her back against the door with a quiet thud and his mouth finally closes over her nipple. Her head falls back, eyes closing.

“Emma? You guys coming to dinner?”

Anna. Emma could kill her. She could actually commit murder right then and there.

“No. Nope.”

He brings his teeth into the mix and her eyes nearly roll back into her head.

“You sure?”

“Anna, I really like and appreciate you but if you could go away and not come back until morning or next year, that would be great.”

There’s a cackle and something that sounds like, a finally!

“Roger that.”

And abruptly she’s being picked up and carried to the bed. She doesn’t care who hears the surprised cry because the way Killian is looking at her, the whole world could be outside her door and she wouldn’t care. He drops her without warning in the middle of the mattress and she lets out a breathless laugh, falling back to her elbows.

He takes her in from the end of the bed, hand on his top button, eyes roving.

“Killian.”

“Emma.”

“Get on with it.”

“I mean I could still go shower.”

She scrambles up to her knees, one hand closing over his, the other over the outline of him, pressing hard against her hand. Her teeth graze over his neck as he swallows, before her tongue darts out to taste.

“Now, Killian.”

She pulls back and her hand gives him another pass. He groans low in his throat.

“As the lady wishes.”

He captures her hands and urges her back to the bed. She lays back and watches him deftly pop his button, and finally rid himself of his pants and underwear. She holds her breath as he crawls over her, legs falling open to cradle him between her thighs.

His fingers pinch and tease and he watches her face for a reaction and she can’t help the whine that escapes, her eyes closing at the sensation.

She arches her neck when he switches sides and mouth drops low, running up the column of her throat, finding the edge of her lobe before biting down.

“I could listen to the sounds you make all night,” he whispers, his voice rough, his hips finally lowering another inch. She feels him brush against her and she gasps.

“All night? Is that a promise?.”

He buries his face in her neck and slides against her again, slow and dirty.

Her thighs tighten against his hips but somehow, she remembers.

“Condom, condom is on the nightstand.”

He teases her one more time before pulling back with dark eyes. She can’t help but pull him down for a kiss before letting him go to grab the foil packet.

She watches him with her heart beating frantically in her chest, an overwhelming feeling taking hold, a want so great her words catch in her throat, only a soft please slipping out.

“I’m right here, we’re right here, oh God,” he echoes as he finally slips inside, pushing deep and swallowing her gasp.

It’s never been like this, she thinks.

“It’s never,” she finally whispers out loud, hand cupping his cheek, nails scratching through his scruff before pulling his lips to hers once again.

“Oh love, I know.”

She tightens her legs and pulls him deeper, closing her eyes against the sensations. It’s so much more than she could have imagined. He fills her with every stroke, bringing her closer each time, whispering how good she feels, how tight, how wet.

Her eyes open when his hand trails down her body, intent on touching where they are joined, and she’s already so close, so overwhelmed it doesn’t take much.

“It’s okay, Emma, give this one to me.”

And she nods, wanting so badly to fall.

Another pass of his fingers and she does, crying out as the orgasm still manages to catch her by surprise, the pleasure so much more intense than she had imagined.

His head falls to her neck, his groan causing goosebumps to spread across her skin as he takes what he needs, following soon after, too caught up in the feel of her.

She pulls his full weight onto her, legs wrapping around him as they both catch their breath, bodies slick with sweat, hearts still pounding.

She runs her fingers through his hair, content to just have him there.

Her lips find his ear and she whispers, “That was… wow..”

He laughs and then groans, slowly pulling it out, but stopping to look down at her.

“What?” she asks, a little shy and the intense look.

“Nothing. I’m just committing this moment to memory.”

She’s surprised to feel her cheeks heat up.

He presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Come on, I need that shower. Your offer to join still stands?”

And who is she to deny him.

“I did say I would, didn’t I?” she asks and plucks a grape from the plate before being tugged away into the bathroom. Her laugh following after her.

---

Thanks for reading!

See you next week for Chapter 12

[hawkinspostbite]

Friday Night Lights

Words: 2,321

MASTERLIST

A/N: I do not claim to, nor do I own Stranger Things; the concept, characters, plot, etc. 

In April of 1985 Y/N and Billy had celebrated their unofficial six-month anniversary. Unofficial, meaning: the two had been seeing each other for six months, and everyone knew that the pair was off limits. But they never made an effort to label it as “dating.” So to everyone Y/N was Hargrove’s girl, and Billy was Y/N’s man. Nobody came between them.

In those six months Y/N had become accustomed to the happenings of the Hargrove/Mayfield home. Billy often coming to her window at odd times on any given day with some type of injury. Ranging from a simple bruise on his cheek, to a bloody nose, to swollen-shut eyes. Due to his problems with his father, Billy had a lot of pent-up aggression. Sure Billy played basketball, but it didn’t relieve him of his frustrations. He attempted to make the pain go away through sex too, but it just wasn’t enough.

Y/N had made it her personal mission to find a way to help him out. So when she saw the signup list for that fall’s football team, she never ran faster to Billy’s car. It took an entire ride home of coaxing and a few dirty promises to get him to sign up. She knew that football was he exact outlet Billy needed to release his anger. It was perfect.

When the first week of June showed up, so did the first week of football prep. Every day after school Billy and the rest of the team would go to the school’s weight room and lift. From 3-5:30. Every day. After a while Max and Y/N had to get creative with their waiting time.When school let out it wasn’t as awful when Billy went lifting because they didn’t have to wait around in the parking lot, but little did they know the worst was yet to come.

As July came so did the double lifting practices. Every morning from 9-12. And every afternoon from 3:30-6. Sure it was a little annoying having her boy-friend (they still weren’t an official thing yet) occupied for most of the but on the upside, he was getting more buff. And Y/N certainly wouldn’t complain about that. Football Billy was a completely different person from regular old Billy. He had friends, he was more confident, he stayed quieter around his father. The coaches provided a respectable, reliable, kinder father-figure for him. And his teammates provided a supportive, caring backbone for him. Things he had never had before. On top of that, he was actually pretty damn good at the sport, as well as being a senior that year. He was guaranteed to start every game.

When August came, so did doubles. Real, rough, tough practices, twice a day for two weeks. 8:30-12, lifting from 12:30-2, and another practice from 3-6:30. Much to the dismay of both Y/N and Billy, they hardly saw each other those first two weeks of August. But the third week of the month coach laid off of them and only made them practice once a day. Then came the first game.

Max and Y/N sat side-by-side, at each game, donning school colors. Ready to support their favorite player. The first nine games went off without a hitch. The team winning seven of them.

Football Billy was the Billy made of dreams. Granted he was still asshole Billy, but he was asshole Billy who cared about things. He had friends, and younger students looked up to him. He was getting better grades and had better attendance. He still partied and picked fights but kept it low key most times. He didn’t fight with Max or her friends, and hadn’t gotten beat on by Neil in two months. And before Y/N thought Billy in the bedroom couldn’t get any better... but boy was she wrong.

Each week without fail, Y/N sat on the third row of bleachers, silently watching, unless a good play was made by Billy, then she screamed her head off. Most times she was accompanied by Max, occasionally Lucas, and sometimes the other kids. And at the end of every game, she would meet Billy at the door of the locker room, he would engulf her in a sweaty hug and kiss. And then they would regroup and go out for milkshakes.

Little to her knowledge, Susan and Neil had attended every home game that season. It took until the second-to-last game of the season for Max to finally tell her. During the middle of the second quarter she turned to her and whispered. “Oh by the way Neil and mom are here tonight and I told them I’d meet them at halftime to check in.” She was completely taken aback. “The other day Neil actually told Billy he was proud of him and I swear to you Y/N, me, mom, and Billy shit our pants simultaneously.” She laughed, and began to mentally prepare herself for halftime.

When halftime rolled around Max grabbed her by the wrist and took her over three sections and up two rows to come face-to-face with Billy’s father. “Mom, Neil, this is Billy’s girlfriend, Y/N.” Y/N almost passed out at the use of the title ‘Billy’s girlfriend’. She reached her hand out and shook both of their’s. She spent the entirety of halftime chatting with Susan and Max as Neil just watched the band play.

Before they were about to go back to their seats Neil stopped her. “Y/N, Maxine told me you were the one that convinced Bill to start football. Is that true?”

“Yes sir it is.” She smiled softly.

“Well I want to thank you. He’s really a changed man and I believe that we owe it to you.” He shook her hand once more, looking at Susan for affirmation.

“You’re very welcome sir.” Suddenly part of her soul felt at peace.

The next game they attended was the final game of the actual season. Going against their local rivals, Billy was determined to “Beat the living brain cells out of them to win.” Much to Y/N’s disgust, she nodded and listened as Billy passionately spoke about his game plan.

That night she and Max got there early, picking the perfect seat to share with the rest of the party. Nancy and Jonathan joined them. Behind them say Joyce and Hopper, partially parent chaperones, and partially secret football fans. Max and Y/N had met with Susan and Neil prior to kickoff, discussing their excitement for the night. As well as Y/N getting invited to the family’s post-game celebration dinner, whether they won or not.

The first two quarters went off without a problem. The home team was winning, with the score 14-7. A close game. But Y/N didn’t worry yet, as she and Max spoke about what their plans for after dinner were. When the third quarter came around, everyone was on the edge of their seats. The score was 27-27, with only 33.07 seconds left. They needed to work and work fast. By the time they reached the 10 minute mark in quarter four, everyone was hardly breathing. The score was still 33-33, and no-one was even close to scoring.

Coach had taken Billy out for the first few minutes so he could rest, saving him for the big final play. At 9 minutes, coach called a time-out and reviewed the final plans. After the time was up, they got into position and began their play. Y/N watched nervously as another player faked out the opposing team, and somehow Billy ended up with the ball. Holy shit. The next few moments happened in slow motion. Billy was a measly fifteen yards from the end zone when a massive defense player smashed into him from the side. Billy went down, and the other player went on top of him. He rolled over, frontwards, and landed on his back. Causing the other player, who was considerably larger then he, to land right on top of him. Y/N shot up from her seat. The other players began to move to their next positions, but Billy didn’t.

The air inside Y/N throat got stuck. “It seems that Hawkins has a player down. Number 03, Hargrove is on the ground.” She watched as his teammates began to surround him but were ushered away by the field trainer and his coaches. She didn’t know what to do, but her legs had already started moving. She ran down the three rows of seats, across the front of the bleachers and towards the gate, where Neil was waiting. She met him, out of breath. He was genuinely worried. “You go. He needs you more.” Ignoring the calls of protest form the crowd, referees, and benched players she ran to the spot where Billy laid. She encountered Tommy H., who had a worried look on his face.

“How is he?” She exclaimed, severely out of breath.

“Hasn’t moved since he was hit.” Tommy swallowed hard. She began to push through the crowd of players. “Hey, let her through!” She made a mental note to thank him.

When she broke through the players she was met with a wall of medics. She nudged at them. “Ma’am were sorry, you can’t be down here.”

She had, unfortunately caught a glimpse of Billy. Her Billy, laying unconsciously on the grass. His face looked so peaceful, despite being doused in sweat and bruises. “I’m his girlfriend, he needs me here!” Somehow, beyond her knowledge, she managed to squeak that out. Just before the tears began to freely flow. She broke down right there.

Throughout his time on the team Billy had become extremely close with his head coach, considering him a father. Coach had learned pretty much everything about Billy. His home life, before and after Hawkins, his school career, but most importantly he learned how much Billy loved Y/N. So many times he had to tell him to shut up because he was “blabbering about Y/N again.” Coach watched with sad eyes, as Y/N stood, helpless and alone, while she saw her boyfriend strapped into a stretcher.

“Let her go with him to the truck. She needs to be there.” He barked at the medics.

“But sir, we don’t usually allow anyone other than relatives in the bus with patients.” The medic replied, annoyed.

“She is all this boy’s got. So you either let her go in the bus with him, or you lose your job.” The medic sighed, and nodded in the direction he was wheeling Billy. Y/N began to follow, but was briefly stopped by Coach. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “He really loves you. Don’t let him go. He’s a good kid. Keep him in line.”

“I know sir. Thank you.” She smiled and chased after the medic and stretcher.

Once inside the ambulance, she learned that the nicer medic’s name was Angela. And she thought that her love for Billy was adorable. She explained everything to Y/N. Angela placed an IV in Billy’s arm, to give him fluids. Checked his vitals; pupil size, heart rate, blood pressure, breathing rate. Just as the other medic, who she learned was named Vance, was about to drive off, Billy woke up. Y/N sat up from her slumped position against the wall, tears pricking her eyes again. Billy’s eyes scanned the space.

“Where the hell am I? What happened?” His speech was slurred and his eyes squinted in the bright lights of the ambulance.

“Billy, my name’s Angela and you’re in the back of an ambulance. You got hit pretty hard and you were knocked out for a good fifteen minutes. Do you remember anything?”

“Nothing. Did we win?”

Y/N chuckled. Of course. “Yeah Bill. We won.”

His head whipped to the side. “Y/N?”

“Yeah. You’ve got a really great girlfriend here buddy. Ran onto the field the second you got hurt, would not leave your side the whole time.”

“Really?” He outstretched his hand, motioning for her to come stand with him. She nodded back at him, taking his hand in hers. As Billy was whispering to Y/N Angela took his vitals again.

“Alright Mr. Billy it seems to me like you have a pretty severe concussion.” Angela sighed, turning to Y/N. “Since you have only a concussion you are permitted to go home. But Miss Y/N has to stay with you and take care of you. No sleeping for at least 8 hours. Make sure you wear sunglasses outside during the day and in any space with bright lights. Try not the hit your head, or listen to any loud music. And if you ever feel sick call the hospital. Stay hydrated and well-fed. Other than that you’re free to go my dear.” She proceeded to remove his IV, and help him out of the ambulance.

Once outside he was greeted by the entire team, as well as his family and the other kids. A few of his teammates helped him up to the locker room to change as Y/N explained his situation to his family. Much to Neil’s disapproval, he agreed that it was safer for Y/N to drive Billy and his car to her house so she could spend the night up with him. Before heading home he thanked her once again for taking such good care of his son.

Once Billy was finished getting changed, Tommy helped him back down the field and then out to his car. “Thank you for the help Tommy but I’ve got it from here.”

Y/N spent the entire car ride home explaining the events of the incident to Billy. And every little detail afterwards in attempts to keep them both awake. Turns out that concussed Billy was the superior Billy, because concussed Billy kept them both up all night with laughter.

When the 8 hours was up, Billy was out faster than a light. And Y/N stopped to admire his peaceful face, before falling into a blissful, much-needed sleep herself.

[thesevenseraphs]

Bungie Weekly Update - 6/21/18

This week at Bungie, we welcome back the Factions.

Everyone is back from E3, and we’re heads down, working hard on Forsaken. Several thousand players already got to play Gambit, and we’re extremely excited for more to play it, both at GuardianCon and when Forsaken releases on September 4.

Meanwhile, the Iron Banner rages on. You have the rest of the week to rank up with Lord Saladin and earn the Season 3 ornaments for your gear. Make sure you turn in everything before the reset on June 26 at 10 a.m., or you will have to wait until the next Iron Banner to claim your rewards. Your tokens and ornament progress will carry over.

What Is Dead Orbit May Never Die

As one event winds down, the next one ramps up. Faction Rallies is starting up again. Dead Orbit dominated the first event of Season 3. We will see if they defend their position at the top, or if New Monarchy or Future War Cult step up to take their spot. Faction Rallies will be available Tuesday, June 26, at 10 a.m. PDT through the following weekly reset. 

In a previous TWAB, we told you that Winner’s Offering weapons would be added to the event reward pool after the first event. That was incorrect for Season 3, which will operate differently than past seasons. During this season, the factions will continue to feature their original Winner’s Offerings for all three events.

If you didn’t make it to Rank 50 with your faction of choice during the first event, you can pick up where you left off by pledging to them again. Or you can opt to start up with new blood, but remember that your pledge is account wide. Choose carefully.

Wear It like Armor

Last month, we did a tuning pass on Exotic armor in Update 1.2.1. We’ve been working on more changes to more gear and wanted to give you a peek at which armor pieces we have plans for next. Here is Sandbox Designer Victor Anderson with the details.

Victor: We’re bringing another set of changes to Exotic armor with Update 1.2.3. As we continue to iterate on Exotic armor, we hope that you will also continue to provide feedback. You’ve heard the goals from the last TWAB, where we introduced the changes, so let’s get right into them. Like the Update 1.2.1 changes, anything written below is in addition to any existing benefits that the Exotic already provides, unless it’s explicitly mentioned otherwise.

Hunter

Lucky Raspberry

Increased chance to fully recharge your Arcbolt Grenade on Arcbolt Grenade hits.

Guarantees a recharge on getting a full chain that hits four targets.

While just about everybody could appreciate the theoretically infinite grenades Lucky Raspberry could generate, its purely random nature made many people shy away from it. With this change, your input will now affect the outcome, so plan your throws accordingly.

St0mp-EE5

Increased benefits when using Strafe Jump and Triple Jump.

The usage rate of St0mp-EE5 in the Crucible was fairly good, but since it mostly affected High Jump, people were somewhat pigeonholed if they wanted to change up their air game, so the other double jump variants were tweaked to have more impact.

Young Ahamkara’s Spine

Removed marking functionality. 

Improved the Tripmine Grenade’s blast radius and throw speed, and made it so your Tripmine Grenades are harder to destroy.

Solar ability hits now grant some Tripmine Grenade energy.

The marking functionality, while useful in some circumstances such as in the Crucible, did not have much merit in PvE, so we removed it to head in a better direction. Now, your Tripmine Grenades are punchier, and you can get access to them faster.

Titan

ACD/0 Feedback Fence

Now grants Fury Conductor stacks on melee hits instead of kills. 

Fury Conductors now grants stacking melee damage resistance.

These changes were mostly aimed at making Fury Conductors better in PvE encounters. While the Feedback Fence could protect you from hordes of Thrall by keeping them staggered, it just wasn’t that much use against something like a Hive Knight wielding a sword. The changes also make this Exotic better in the Crucible, but the solution of just shooting opponents still works.

Doomfang Pauldrons

Void melee kills now grant more Super energy.

Shield Throw hits will now extend the duration of your Super.

Titans have a lot of Exotics that help with punching things. To differentiate this one from the rest of the herd, we’ve increased the impact this Exotic has on your Super and on how you use it.

Dunemarchers

Reduced the time to activate Linear Actuators while you are sprinting to 1.5 seconds (down from 5 seconds). 

Increased the damage of the chain lightning effect (+70% in PvP, 440% in PvE).

While the lightning effect of Dunemarchers was novel, the time needed to start it up and its fairly low impact led to many players simply seeing these as “the sprint pants.” So, we’ve made the lightning much more deadly and frequent.

Warlock

Crown of Tempests

Collapsed the total number of stacks of Conduction Tines to 3 (with the same total effect), and each stack of Conduction Tines lowers the upkeep cost of Stormtrance.

Nezarec’s Sin and this Exotic were quite similar, so we pushed harder on this Exotic for Stormcallers who want to invest heavily in ability use. Warlocks also don’t have many Exotics that modify their Supers, and not receiving the full benefit of Conduction Tines during Stormtrance was a little disheartening, so we added a benefit during the Super’s duration to alleviate that.

Karnstein Armlets

Removed melee hit effects (resilience/mobility/target highlighting). 

Melee kills now instantly heal you, then grant continuous healing for 8 seconds.

In this iteration of Karnstein Armlets, we’ve simplified the Exotic to be about death and healing. Previously, the effect was split between hits and kills, providing inconsistent experiences. While the effect is much more basic now, it should be more reliable and more effective in most situations.

Starfire Protocol

Empowering Rift weapon damage hits now grant Fusion Grenade energy (20%).

Much as with the Lunafaction Boots, we felt like giving a bonus to players who decide to go on the offense with Empowering Rift, rather than playing it safe with Healing Rift.

The Old Gods

There are some relics of a different time still being hosted on our servers. Next week, we're retiring a few legacy services from the Halo era and consolidating others.

Resident Archivist Roger Wolfson will explain what's changing and how it may affect you.

Roger: We're doing some (once a decade) spring cleaning on the halo.bungie.net site. First off, it's time to retire those old, read-only forums. If you have some archived threads bookmarked that you like to revisit for nostalgia purposes, please take some screenshots before we say goodbye to those forums. 

Do you remember Bungie Pro Video? We said back in 2008 that we'd keep your renders available to download for a couple months. Ten years later, we're getting around to cleaning them up, so grab anything you want to keep around in the next week. Finally, the "details" views of old Halo matches will be trimmed down to just the line-item scores; your career pages will still have your overall medals chest, but individual games won't.

These changes go into effect on June 28 at 10 a.m. PDT. If you need to save anything, get it done before then.  

Watchers on the Wall

The Destiny Player Support team keeps watch over the health of the live game. They were quick to respond to a few issues that rose up this week. The full details are in their report below.

Fighting Lion and the Iron Ornament Bundle

Destiny Player Support investigated an issue impacting players who purchased the Iron Ornament Bundle on Tuesday, June 19, in which the included ornament “Lupus Visage” did not properly unlock on Fighting Lion after it was activated. 

We have identified all impacted accounts, and this issue will be resolved for all affected players in an upcoming hotfix. To prevent further impact until a hotfix is deployed, this bundle has been pulled from the Eververse Trading Co. storefront. 

In the meantime, players who have successfully equipped this ornament will not be impacted as long as they do not unequip the ornament or dismantle the specific Fighting Lion that the ornament has been applied to.

For players who encounter this issue before the hotfix is released, here’s what you should expect when this hotfix is available:

The Lupus Visage ornament will already be unlocked, and you can find it by directly inspecting Fighting Lion from your vault, collection, or character inventory.

For affected players who do not yet own Fighting Lion, the Lupus Visage ornament will not appear in your modifications inventory, postmaster, or vault. It will appear when previewing Fighting Lion once it has been obtained in game.

As with all Exotic weapon ornaments, once owned, it can be applied and removed on the Fighting Lion freely without cost to materials or currency.

Battle.net Maintenance for European Players

On June 20, between 02:00 CEST and 07:00 CEST, our partners at Blizzard Europe conducted scheduled global authentication maintenance. During this maintenance, European players were unable to login to Destiny 2 on Battle.net. For notices regarding scheduled maintenances before they occur, players should follow @BungieHelpon Twitter or monitor our support feed on help.Bungie.net. For issues related to Blizzard services, players should reach out to Blizzard Support.

[handyguypros1]

Best Holsters for Glock 17 HandyGuyPros

How you carry your sidearm matters. Choose one of the best holsters for Glock 17 pistols to ensure your comfort and reduce your reaction time.

The Glock 17 is a larger pistol than the Glock 19 which makes it a little less comfortable for concealed carry. That being said, we chose both IWB and OWB holsters for our reviews today.

You may find that a pancake-style holster takes care of the problem. It keeps your weapon close without printing through your clothes. But we included holsters suitable for duty wear, too.

Top Holsters for Glock 17

We’re happy you’re here to see our picks for the top Glock 17 holsters. Let’s get started with one of the most popular choices for law enforcement.

BLACKHAWK! SERPA Level 3 Auto Lock Duty Holster

LEOs on the front lines love the BLACKHAWK! Serpa duty holster. Why? Because it prevents perps from grabbing your weapon. It has both the Serpa firearm retention system as well as a secondary lock on top. Your weapon isn’t going anywhere until you say so.

Yes, this level of security slows down draw time. But it saves lives – yours and those around you.

The Serpa lock clicks into action the moment you reholster your gun. And the secondary lock is not a hood or snap that can break off, wear out, or get in your way. Instead, the holster has a thumb-activated Pivot Guard.

Since you already have enough weight to carry around, you’ll be glad to know that the injection-molded carbon fiber composite weighs just over half a pound. The adjustable cant lets you choose the angle for an easier draw. You can adjust the passive retention pressure, too.

BLACKHAWK! SERPA CQC Concealment Holster

The BLACKHAWK! Serpa CQC concealment holster has level II protection against holster grabs. This isn’t quite as elaborate as the Serpa duty holster above, but it will give you peace of mind. It also allows for a quicker draw and re-holster.

As soon as you place your weapon inside, it audibly clicks. You can also adjust both the passive retention and the cant with the appropriate screws.

This holster comes with a paddle platform and belt loop. Use the guides to adjust the slots for your belt. Moreover, it’s available for either right or left-hand draw.

BLACKHAWK! Serpa Sportster Holster

BLACKHAWK’s Sportster holster comes with a paddle mount only. It’s a smart choice for the range and nice for new shooters. That’s because you can experiment with the cant.

The finger release button keeps your gun safely holstered until you’re ready to use it. Plus, the moment you holster your weapon, you’ll hear an audible click to confirm that it’s secure.

The polymer material is very durable and molded to fit Glock 17, 22, or 31. It’s available in either left or right-hand orientations.

Safariland 6365 Level 3 Retention ALS Duty Holster, Low-Ride, STX, Glock 17

Safariland’s 6365 holster protects you with their automatic locking system plus a rotating hood. Once you holster the gun, it’s locked into place. Then all you need to do is move the hood with your thumb and draw your Glock straight up. The holster fits up to 2-1/4-inch belts and it rides low.

Concealment Express IWB KYDEX Holster

This holster from Concealment Express suits a variety of carrying styles. Choose from cross draw, appendix, hip, or palm-in back. Then set the cant, or carry angle, between 0 to 15° with a regular Phillips screwdriver.

The Kydex material is a favorite choice among holster manufacturers because it molds perfectly to the shape of the weapon. It’s also very rugged and lightweight, weighing only 2 ½ ounces.

This holster makes an audible click when you engage the retention lock. It also has a full-length sweat guard as well as corrosion-resistant hardware. It’s backed by an unconditional lifetime warranty and satisfaction guarantee.

Orpaz Glock Holster

The Israeli-designed Orpaz holster fits both Glock 17 and Glock 19. It was created by a SWAT veteran who took into account several key features. First, it has level II retention with a thumb break retention clip. Second, the passive retention and rotation are fully adjustable with an Allen wrench.

Third, use the ambidextrous holster for small of back (SOB), cross draw, or strong side carry. It fits on either a 1 ½ or 2-inch wide belt, but you can wear the paddle without a belt. The OWB paddle is curved to conform to your body. Finally, the holster has a channel to protect your gun’s sights.

Relentless Tactical The Defender Leather IWB Holster

The Defender holster from Relentless Tactical fits a wide variety of 9mm, .40 and .45 caliber guns. These include Glock, Sig Sauer, and Springfield pistols. It’s made from bull hide leather and available in three colors like Midnight Black, Whiskey Barrel Brown, and Charred Oak. Although it may take a little while to break in, it’s covered by a lifetime warranty.

Relentless Tactical The Ultimate Suede Leather IWB Holster

Relentless Tactical also makes a suede holster that feels softer than their bull hide leather model. This one has a metal clip that allows you to wear it without a belt. And it fits a variety of pistols including the Glock 17. Of course, it comes with a lifetime warranty.

CYTAC OWB Holster for Glock 17

The polymer CYTAC paddle holster stands up to harsh conditions and nasty weather. It has a fluid-feeling quick release button that keeps your weapon secure. It also lets you adjust the passive retention and the cant with the included Allen key.

Fobus Glock – GL2E2 Evolution HolsterYou’re likely to see this holster worn by Israeli special forces. But you may also see it used by the military anywhere in the world. The Fobus Glock holster weighs only 2 ounces. The rubberized paddle features steel reinforced rivets for extreme durability. It has a channel that protects your sights, too.

You’ll never need to oil this high-riding, low-profile holster. Plus, it’s covered by a lifetime warranty and 100% customer satisfaction guarantee.

Safariland 7378 7TS ALS Paddle & Belt Slide Concealment Glock 17 22 Holster

Safariland has a proprietary automatic locking system that protects against holster grabs. It features a thumb-activated button that won’t slow down your draw. It also has raised standoffs inside that reduce friction.

The DuPont SafariSeven nylon material won’t scratch your pistol. But it can tolerate down to -50 F and up to 300 F without warping. The paddle comes with an adjustable belt slide and belt loop that lets you adjust the carry angle.

Alien Gear Cloak Mod OWB paddle holsterTry the Alien Gear’s Cloak Mod holster for 30 days to see what you think. If you love it, keep it, and enjoy the lifetime warranty. It features adjustable cant and retention because of its spring steel flexplate. Furthermore, you can wear it as either a paddle or belt slide.

Alien Gear offers to swap the custom-molded retention shell if you trade in your gun in the future. The shell is an elastomer that won’t abrade the finish of the weapon.

Outlaw Holsters OD Green Kydex OWB Holster

Besides this olive drab model, Outlaw Holsters makes a variety of Kydex holsters with custom designs printed on them. Each paddle holster has two belt loops that you can replace with speed clips. And each one is custom-molded to the gun. They come with a one-year replacement warranty.

Bianchi Accumold Black Holster 7115 Vanguard

Law enforcement officers have trusted Bianchi with their weapons for decades. The Vanguard holster is built with Accu-Mold Trilaminate with a Coptex inner lining. The lining protects the gun from abrasion and reduces friction for a smoother draw.

The curved holster fits duty belts up to 2 ¼ inches wide. It has the traditional top-draw thumb snap and standard ride.

Bravo Concealment Outside The Waistband BCA Gun Holster

If you have red dot sights (RMR) on your Glock, get the Bravo Concealment OWB holster. It can handle tall sights, or you can use it when the sights aren’t mounted, too. The Kydex construction is lightweight but rugged.

Even though it has an over the waistband design, it’s thin and it hugs your body. The cant is fixed at 10 degrees forward. There are no thumb releases to slow down your draw. Furthermore, it comes with a 30-day money-back guarantee if you aren’t happy with it.

BLACKHAWK! SERPA Level 3 Light-Bearing Tactical Holster

When the SHTF, you’ll wish you had the BLACKHAWK! Serpa Tactical Holster. Not only does it fit your Glock, but it also holds spare mags, knives, and other essentials. Plus, it fits the BLACKHAWK! Xiphos NT light mounted on your pistol. (Unfortunately, that’s the only light it guarantees will fit.)

The holster sports protection against gun grabs with the Serpa auto lock thumb release and pivot guard. Meanwhile, the adjustable rubberized leg straps and Y-harness keep the holster in place even when you kneel. It won’t block your pants pocket, either. Should you need to remove the holster in a hurry, just press the swivel buckles to release it.

Conclusion

There are many holsters perfect for the Glock 17 whether you carry for work, play, or personal protection. It’s easy to get started shopping once you decide on a few points.

Will you want concealed carry? Extra protection against holster grabs? What about adjustable cant? And don’t forget to select a holster based on your left or right-hand draw.

We hope that our reviews today helped you select the right holster for your Glock 17. Check the top holsters for the Glock 19, too.

Source : https://handyguypros.com/best-holsters-glock-17/

[quicksilversquared]

How To Fake A Marriage ch. 7

(AO3) (FF.net)

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

As he had with all of his other classes, Adrien had over-studied once again. He answered all of the questions on his last midterm with ease and even had time to go back and check over his answers. He handed his test in at the end of the test period, feeling good about his answers, and headed straight to the grocery store.

"Oh sweet, fabulous cheese," Plagg sighed as Adrien dropped several rounds of Camembert into his basket. "How I missed thee-"

"These have to last for the next week," Adrien warned him as he added two other blocks to his basket. "The people here already think I'm weird for always getting as much cheese as I do every time I shop. I'm not doing any mid-week trips."

Plagg pouted. "Oh, come on. Can't we buy any more?"

"Marinette'll get suspicious if she sees any more cheese in my fridge. You forget, she digs around in there too." Adrien left the cheese section, ignoring Plagg's whining. "And she already thinks it's weird that I'm always running out of cheese for recipes when she saw two kilo blocks in my fridge two days prior."

"You are weird," Plagg said. He promptly shut up when Adrien purposefully dropped a box of crackers on him.

Humming, Adrien continued on his way through the store. He wasn't going to do a full-out shopping trip for the next week like he normally would since he hadn't planned any meals out at all, but he wanted to have enough food for tonight, at the very least. He could make a simple meal and it would probably taste like gourmet after a week of frozen pizza and heated-up leftovers. He swung by his apartment to put things away and then headed straight back out to pick up hot sandwiches for himself and Marinette for lunch. Plagg complained, of course, but Adrien thought that he and Marinette deserved the treat. He added a couple of chocolate chip cookies as a bonus and headed over to see Marinette.

"This is stupid," Plagg grouched as Adrien trotted the few short blocks from the sandwich shop to Marinette's workplace. "Can't we just stay in the apartment and rest?"

"This won't take long," Adrien said with a sigh as they reached the Rosalie Fashions building. He reached out, opened the door and ducked inside.

And then he came to a screeching halt.

The ground floor was positively teeming with people. Workers, interns, and models alike were rushing to and fro, some pushing racks filled with covered clothes, others carrying boxes. Some looked strangely stressed, considering that Marinette had thought that things were nearly done. Adrien had to stumble back and hug the wall as several people rushed by him and out the door to the waiting moving van that had just pulled up.

He could only hope that Marinette's floor wasn't quite this insane.

Adrien zig-zagged across the ground floor, alternating between hugging the wall and dashing out whenever there was an opening. It didn't take him long to get to the stairs (though he did nearly slam into several people on his way) and then he sprinted up to the next floor, clutching his bag of sandwiches.

The first floor was, if possible, even more frantic than the ground floor. There was a sort of worried buzz in the air, which really didn't make that much sense. This wasn't Project Runway; the designers had had plenty of time to get things ready. Unless there had been some sort of catastrophe, they should be busy but not this insane.

"The problem is that, since it's Fashion Week, nearly all of the models are already booked," Madam Rosalie was saying as Adrien rounded the corner into the interns' area. The older designer was standing in the hallway between the cubicles surrounded by several of her workers, Marinette included. "There's only slim pickings left, and there's no guarantee that we'll be able to get them over here fast enough to do the alterations. Even if we did, they could be unprofessional or inexperienced on the runway and that's why they weren't picked up in the first place. We don't have time to train in a new model, and we can't make the models we do still have pick up any more looks. We already have a ridiculously short turnaround time for the models to change clothes."

"We can't just drop several looks," Marinette argued as Adrien drew close, curious. Had something happened to one of their models? No wonder they were so worried. "Could we maybe have a female model step in and just tuck up their hair and go for a unisex look? We'd have to do the alterations still, obviously, but at least we would know that they can walk and they're already on-site- Adrien! Hey! What are you doing here?"

Madam Rosalie spun around at the call and her eyes lit up as she saw Adrien standing there, looking about as puzzled as he felt. "Ah! He has heard our call for help and he has answered! Adrien, dear, one of our models was in a car accident and can't walk the runway tomorrow, you'll be an angel and help us out, right?"

Aha. A model in a car accident and unable to walk the runway would certainly explain a lot of the stress he had seen. And he was a model, and could take the missing person's place. Adrien didn't particularly like doing runway shows, but...

...well, he couldn't exactly say no, especially when Marinette looked so worried about the situation. Even if they weren't actually married, he would do almost anything to help Marinette out. That was what friends did, no matter how much Plagg wanted to read into it.

"Shannon, Emily, can you grab Richard's outfits and his shoes for me?" Madam Rosalie called to two of the other designers before Adrien could answer. His expression must have given his agreement away, or maybe Madam Rosalie was just used to getting what she wanted, just like his father was. Or maybe his people-pleasing reputation preceded him, even here in London. "Adrien looks like he should be the right size, we'll probably only have to do a few tucks to make it perfect. Marinette, can you help Adrien with the clothes? It should only take a few minutes and then you can eat whatever it was Adrien brought for you."

"Are you okay with this?" Marinette asked Adrien as Madam Rosalie whisked off to take care of something else, main crisis now averted. "You don't have to say yes, but it would really be a huge help."

"It's fine," Adrien assured her, resting one hand on her shoulder. "I've finished my midterms and we have next week off classes. I've done runways before. It's no big deal to help out with this one."

"You are an absolute angel," Marinette breathed, relief clear on her face as the other designers vanished, presumably to get the outfits that Adrien would be trying on. "We just heard about this model half an hour ago, so it was crazy last-minute. We weren't sure how we would get another person."

"Will he be all right eventually?" Adrien asked as he adjusted his bag on his shoulder. At this rate, the sandwiches would be cold by the time they got to them. Maybe the building had an oven or something they could use to heat them back up. "Or is the injury serious?"

Marinette shook her head. "No, he'll be fine. He's got a broken leg and some bruises and cuts on his arms, legs, and face, so he can't walk without crutches and even if he could, they would have to do some serious makeup work on him if they didn't want the cuts and whatnot showing up in photos."

Adrien winced. He knew full well how important looks were to a model's ability to work. If the guy couldn't do runways and wouldn't be able to do photoshoots until his injuries cleared up, he could be out a fair chunk of money. Hopefully he wasn't living from paycheck to paycheck.

"So what kinds of looks am I modelling?" Adrien asked, changing the subject. He was vaguely familiar with the kinds of clothing Madam Rosalie's company produced for women, but he had never really looked into their men's line. After all, he got pretty much all of his clothes from his father's lines.

"Fairly straightforward stuff, really. Shirts, jackets, dress pants..." Marinette shrugged. "There's a couple dramatic looks. Everything is fairly fitted, even for the men. Madam Rosalie hates baggy clothing. She says that it looks sloppy no matter what"

Adrien froze. Fitted pants? Normally he wouldn't have a problem with that, since he had worn fitted slacks to his business classes every day (he had promptly traded them out for jeans now that he was in the physics program, since he felt way overdressed otherwise) and he had definitely modeled close-cut pants before, but he had also been wearing different, well, undergarments.

Everyone- well, at least everyone in fashion- knew that one simply did not wear boxers under fitted dress pants. It made them bunch up and lump strangely. Adrien had known that for forever and had never, ever worn boxers to a fitting before. Until now.

Whoops.

"Is there something wrong?" Marinette asked after a moment when Adrien didn't say anything. A blush had started to rise in his cheeks. "Nothing's, like, super tight. We don't make leggings for men or anything crazy like that."

"I am...possibly not wearing the right kind of underwear to make the pants lay the way they're supposed to," Adrien admitted as his bush deepened. He suddenly found himself wishing that he was literally anywhere else but here right now. "I can run back home and change really quick if you want me to, because otherwise things are going to look pretty funny."

"Oh," was all Marinette managed to say. She seemed to have suddenly lost her words and her poise. Her face was quite possibly going redder than his as her eyes darted down almost inadvertently before she caught herself and stared at the ceiling instead. "Uh..."

"Maybe I can try on all of the tops and then while those get altered, I can run home and change?" Adrien suggested, wishing more than ever that he wasn't having this conversation with Marinette. Marinette was his friend, and she didn't need to be hearing about his underwear. Really, this conversation would have been easier with a complete stranger rather than a friend, as strange as that sounded. He wouldn't be worried about embarrassing a complete stranger. Besides, most dressers tended to learn to see models that they didn't know outside of work as walking, talking mannequins. Any kind of wardrobe malfunction was just seen as an annoying inconvenience rather than something to be embarrassed about.

Marinette just didn't have that kind of professional distance with him.

"Uh, I, uh..." Marinette was stammering, which was a bad sign. She hadn't stammered in front of him for forever. "Uh-"

"Emily! Can you run down the road and buy some men's briefs?" Madam Rosalie yelled over the noise of the floor, making both Adrien and Marinette jump. They hadn't seen her hovering near them. Adrien's face flushed impossibly redder in mortification as the other intern trotted over, regarding him curiously. "We need a set for Adrien to change into, let me grab you a company credit card- it doesn't need to be fancy, just a men's size, uh, let me see here-"

Adrien groaned and dropped his forehead onto Marinette's shoulder. It was making his neck crane somewhat painfully since she was so much shorter than he was, but it was better than listening to other people discuss his underthings. "Just kill me now. Death by humiliation." He paused. "They were checking out my rear, weren't they."

Marinette sounded like she was trying very hard not to laugh, which at least was a better sign than the stuttering. More humiliating for Adrien, perhaps, but he still preferred it to the uncomfortable stutters. "They were debating between two sizes. I didn't hear what they decided on."

Adrien was already wishing he hadn't stopped by. He had been expecting a hurried lunch with Marinette, followed by a relaxing afternoon where he would maybe try a new recipe or bake something for when Marinette finally stumbled back to their apartments, not being roped into doing a runway show and then having his underwear size debated by a friend of his parents' and a design intern while his friend stood nearby. Still, if it would make Marinette happy and not ridiculously stressed...

"Marinette, try the shirts and jackets on Adrien while Emily is out," Madam Rosalie ordered as she passed them again, ignoring the way Adrien was still banging his head against Marinette's shoulder. "She should be back soon, since she's taking my car."

"Will do," Marinette assured her boss. "Adrien, come on. Are you okay with changing shirts in my cubicle?"

"That's fine," Adrien assured her as he followed her into what was obviously her cubicle. He set the bag of sandwiches down on a clear spot on Marinette's desk and looked around. Another intern had already delivered the rack with his looks on it and the box of shoes to the small space, making it incredibly cramped. "I might have to duck into the bathroom to change the, uh, y'know-"

"Right! Right, right, of course." Marinette pulled the first hanger off the rack as Adrien shucked his t-shirt. He hung it over Marinette's chair and reached for the shirt she was offering him. It was fairly plain and straightforward, but that was to be expected. The star piece would be the jacket and probably the pants as well. He pulled the shirt over his head carefully, making sure not to stretch it. The shirt fit him almost perfectly, making him wonder how close he was in size to the injured model. The sleeves were a little long on him, though.

"Oh, this fits you better than it did Richard," Marinette said when she finally turned her attention back to Adrien (she had been staring resolutely at the wall, Adrien noted with some amusement). "It was a little tight on him, but somehow the marks got removed before we could alter it. We'll probably have to take in a couple other things." She reached forward to fiddle with the cuffs, tweaking them until they sat properly. Reaching over, Marinette snagged a few pins off of her desk and pinned the change in place.

"Hopefully the shoes fit," Adrien said as Marinette moved to the other sleeve and checked how the length was on him. "I can walk in large shoes, but it might affect my stride a bit."

"Ooh, we'll check those after this outfit," Marinette said, tugging the jacket off the hanger and helping Adrien into it. It was a long cut, dramatic in its shape, and had some nice details on it. "Then if we need to get a new size, we can send Emily out to get it. There's only the one pair for the male models, thankfully. Some of the female models have a couple different shoes."

Adrien grinned as Marinette grumbled and pulled the jacket right back off. It was too loose across the shoulders but fit everywhere else, so Marinette flipped the jacket inside out, put it back on him, marked the changes with pins and chalk, pulled the jacket back off, and waved down a passing worker to take the piece to the sewing room with instructions for the sewers.

"At least your old model wasn't smaller than me," Adrien said helpfully as he removed the shirt, making sure not to disturb the pins. Getting the fit messed up so close to runway week would be the absolute last thing they needed at a time like this. "And- uh, is everything else ready? Or do you have the seamstresses working on other things as well?"

"They were working on some prototypes for the winter line, but they can put everything aside for last-minute alterations for Fashion Week." Marinette hung the shirt up near her doorway and picked up the shoebox. "They work pretty fast, but they're a bit busy at the moment with little last-minute adjustments. There were some fit issues with some of the women's looks, and then- well, long story short, we have a lot of embroidery on some of the pieces and that makes the alterations a bit more difficult. That's putting them behind schedule a bit."

Marinette pulled out the first shoe and handed it to Adrien. He sat down in her desk chair to pull his own shoes off and pull the first one on. It fit pretty well, which was a relief. They were already busy enough without having to track down a pair of shoes that would fit him properly. He pulled the second one on and practiced his runway walk as best he could in Marinette's cramped cubicle. "These work well."

"That's good," Marinette said, relief clear in her voice as she watched him walk and pivot to head back in her direction. "We're already crazy enough in here today without any more, uh-"

"Any more trips to fetch things?" Adrien suggested, blush rising again. God, if this was how awkward they got when merely vaguely referring to Adrien's, ah, underwear problem, then how weird would they actually get around each other when it was time for him to try on the pants?

"Yeah." Marinette waited as Adrien sat back down and tugged the shoes off. She took them back and packed them back into the box. "Okay, now let's try the rest of the outfits. Maybe we can get these all done before Emily gets back."

  They got all of the shirts and jackets marked for adjustments and were halfway through their sandwiches by the time Emily returned.

"I got turned around and caught in traffic," Emily said sheepishly as she tossed two packages of black men's briefs into Adrien's lap. Both he and Marinette turned pink almost instantly at the sight. "I'm not used to driving around the city. And Madam Rosalie and I couldn't decide on the right size so I got two sizes. One of them should fit."

"Right, thank you," Adrien managed before Emily bounced off to go take care of something else. He stared at the packages for a moment, wondering what the best way was to excuse himself.

"Oh! I should get you a bag to put, uh," Marinette's eyes flicked down again and back up. Her cheeks went even redder. "Keep things in. Um-"

"If we finish our sandwiches, I can just use the bag from that," Adrien said quickly. He set the packages of briefs down on the floor and picked his sandwich back up, eager to change the subject, even if only for a bit. "We'll both have to wash our hands before we touch the clothes anyway, so we might as well just finish these first while they're still somewhat warm."

"Right, of course." Marinette took another bite of her sandwich and hummed in pleasure, savoring the taste. "Thank you so much for the sandwich, Adrien. It's delicious. Just what I needed after the morning we had."

"I have cookies, too," Adrien said as he polished off his own sandwich in three more bite. He grinned as Marinette perked up. "They're in a smaller bag in this bag, though, so if you wanted to save them for later, we could do that."

"Later might be good. I want to get things over to the sewing room as fast as possible." Marinette finished her own sandwich and stood up, stretching as she did. "Ready?"

  The pants all fit perfectly. Marinette let out a sigh of relief as she hung the last pair back up on the rack and waited for Adrien to put his jeans back on. She stared resolutely at the wall until the rustling stopped, and then she waited another ten seconds for good measure before turning around.

"That's it?" Adrien asked, patting down his hair. It had gotten a little mussed from him pulling his t-shirt over his head and probably also from him banging his forehead against Marinette's shoulder earlier. "That wasn't awful."

"We'll probably need you to come back in tomorrow sometime for final fittings," Marinette admitted. "I talked to Emily while you were, uh, in the bathroom earlier, and she said that there were some delays. They're probably still working on the embroidered pieces. I'm really sorry-"

"It's fine, Marinette," Adrien assured her, catching hold of one of her frantically flailing hands before she could whack it against the wall. He only let go when he knew he had her attention. "I wouldn't want the seamstresses to rush on my behalf. I don't have anything going on tomorrow, so I can come in, no problem."

"I know, but I'm sure you would rather go exploring or something instead." Marinette sighed, straightening the hangers that remained on the racks. She fiddled with one of the pairs of pants, making sure the creases stayed right where she wanted them to be. "I know you had talked about exploring London more-"

"It's more fun to go with someone else," Adrien assured her. "Maybe I'll go explore stuff you already visited before while you're busy here, but I would rather go with you to new places."

There was a faint oooh from outside the cubicle. Adrien and Marinette ignored it. Or, well, Adrien ignored it and Marinette turned pink and started fiddling with the hem of the pants on the hanger closest to her.

"So if we are all done, I think I'll take off and go see a museum or something yet this afternoon," Adrien said, stretching. "There's still a couple more hours until they close."

"You know how to get there without getting lost?" Marinette asked, abandoning the pants to glance over at him. "Because I can tell you what bus lines-"

"You already told me a few weeks ago," Adrien reminded her gently. He waved his phone at her. "I wrote everything you told me on my phone. And I can always text you if I have any questions."

"Okay, if you're sure. Oh!" Marinette suddenly jumped, turning to her desk. "The cookies! Here, we should have them before you go."

"Right, I almost forgot!" Adrien accepted his cookie from Marinette and took a bite. It wasn't quite as good as the ones that Marinette's parents made and didn't come close to Marinette fresh-out-of-the-oven cookies, but it was still fabulous. "See you later, Marinette! Don't work too late!"

"I thought you said that we were going to go back to the apartment and sleep," Plagg complained as Adrien headed for the stairs. "This isn't sleeping. This is spending too much time in your underwear around your wife and then wandering around the city."

"Exploring is more fun," Adrien shot back, ignoring the dig about his underwear. "Besides, you can sleep in my pocket just fine." He reached the stairs and starting jogging downward. Amazingly enough, the insane frenzy that had been there before had magically vanished. "It's not as though I'm going to an amusement park. You aren't going to accidentally be flung out of my pocket again."

Plagg grumbled, sticking his head further out of Adrien's jacket when he saw the coast was clear. "I still don't trust you after that." A pause. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Adrien paused at the bottom of the stairs and glanced down at himself, frowning. "No, I don't think so. Why?"

"So you're just going to leave your wife to pick up your underwear, then?"

Adrien froze, then swore and spun around to sprint right back up the stairs. He had completely forgotten to take the bag with his boxers in it with him. That was stupid of him, and he couldn't ask Marinette to have to deal with them. Maybe he should have changed back into his own things, but he did want to get over to the museum before it got too close to closing time.

Marinette glanced up as Adrien skidded back into her workspace. "Adrien? What-"

"I forgot to grab this to take back to my place," Adrien said with a sheepish smile as he snagged the former sandwich bag. "Sorry about that. See you later, Mari!"

"Have fun!" Marinette called after him.

"Which museum are we going to?" Plagg asked as Adrien jogged back down the stairs, bag safely in hand. "Aren't there a ton of museums in the city?"

"Yeah, but I'm not all that interested in some of them." Adrien waved to a few passing workers and headed out the door and onto the street. "Like the Imperial War Museum, or the London Transport Museum, or the National Maritime Museum. The Design Museum would be something I'd be more likely to visit with Marinette because otherwise I really wouldn't get anything out of it, and I want a full day for the Science Museum. Mari and I already visited an art museum, so I probably won't go to another for a bit. I'm thinking I'll do the Natural History Museum. It sounds cool."

"Is there a cheese museum? If there is, we should go there."

"No."

  Marinette found herself booted out of the Rosalie Fashions at four o'clock.

"You've been working overtime all week and everything you can do is done for now," Madam Rosalie said as she shepherded Marinette and several other workers towards the doors. "Go home, get your shopping and cleaning and whatnot done before Fashion Week starts, because even once our show is over, I suspect that most of you will hang around the building late watching other shows during the rest of the week. I'll need a couple of you for a couple hours tomorrow for the fittings that couldn't make it today, but otherwise I'll see you bright and early Monday morning."

"That's nice of her," Tikki said as Marinette headed down the sidewalk. "What are you gonna do with your free afternoon?"

"I need to go grocery shopping," Marinette said with a sigh. "Just a supply run, really, but I need some fruit and some bread at the very least. Maybe some more chocolate chips as well," she added, making Tikki squeal with joy. "So we can make more chocolate-chip cookies."

"Oh, well, we definitely should go grocery shopping, then!" Tikki decided, settling into Marinette's purse. "Onward ho!"

Marinette could only giggle as she headed down the street. "Has Adrien texted at all?"

"Nope. He must have arrived at the museum just fine. Which one was he going to?"

"He didn't say." Marinette unlocked her building's door and went in, jogging up the stairs. "Ugh, if I had known that I would have the time to shop, I would have brought my bags with me so I didn't have to come back here first."

"It was nice of Adrien to say he could help out," Tikki said as Marinette ducked into her apartment and grabbed the cloth bags stored by the door. She re-locked her door and headed back down the stairs. "That was scary for a few minutes there!"

"Yeah, I'm glad he showed up." It had been a surprise to see Adrien, of course, and she had been irritated for a few moments because they were in the middle of a crisis, there wasn't time to have a lunch break, but then Madam Rosalie had roped Adrien into filling their empty model spot and everything was all right again. Of course, they had to deal with some embarrassment as Adrien had to get undressed for Marinette to fit things on him (she had tried not to look), but they had got through it.

Eventually. With a lot of blushing. Of course, they would have to do the same thing tomorrow- or, rather, nearly. Since the pants needed no adjustment, they wouldn't have to try them on again at all. Thankfully.

The shopping trip took almost no time- after a couple of months, Marinette knew the place almost like the back of her own hand and besides, she wasn't getting all that much- and then she headed home again, swinging by a bakery that caught her eye on the way back. Adrien wasn't back yet- depending on what museum he went to and if he was staying until closing time, he could be a while- so Marinette got a batch of chocolate-chip cookies going before she contemplated what they could eat for dinner. There was the fruit she just bought, of course, and she could probably pull something together with what she had bought and what she had left in her pantry, but Adrien had said something earlier during the fittings about how he had bought fixings for dinner. Once he got back, she could bring over a salad and maybe some cookies along with the treat she had picked up at the bakery on her way home to go along with whatever Adrien was making.

Decision made, Marinette set to chopping up the fruit and vegetables she had bought.

Half an hour later, her phone charmed with an incoming text. Marinette abandoned her tray of cookies, half-transferred to a cooling rack, and trotted over to the table to check the message. Behind her, unnoticed, Tikki snitched a still warm cookie and took a giant bite.

"Adrien's just leaving the Natural History Museum now," Marinette reported as Tikki tried not to let her eyes bulge out too much at how hot the cookie was. Even after living with Marinette for over six years, the kwami had not quite learned to let the cookies cool some before eating them. "He said it was great and he wouldn't mind going back again on a rainy day." She shot a short text back and returned to the kitchen. She paused when she saw Tikki with a warm, crumbling cookie sitting by her and bulging cheeks. The kwami sent her a wide smile, trying to look innocent and failing.

"That's good he liked it," Tikki managed, trying not to spray cookie crumbs as she talked. "Was that the one with the insects?"

"I told you that you had to wait until the cookies were a little cooler, Tikki," Marinette said with a sigh. She went over to the fridge and pulled out a jug of milk, pouring a small glass of milk before returning the jug to the fridge and handing the tiny glass to Tikki. The kwami took the milk with a smile and took a sip before swallowing her mouthful of cookie. She took a few more sips, emptying the small cup.

"Thank you, Marinette!"

"The cookies will be cool enough to eat in a few minutes," Marinette said with a sigh, picking up her spatula and transferring the last few cookies to the cooling rack. "And they'll still be warm and gooey, but you won't burn your mouth. Think you can wait that long?"

Tikki nodded sheepishly.

  Adrien, as it had turned out, had quite enjoyed the museum.

"It's practically right on campus," he told Marinette, grinning. "So, y'know, it was a little difficult to get lost."

"Oh shush," Marinette said with a laugh, swatting at his side as he smirked at her. "You didn't say which one you were going to. For all I knew, you could be heading all the way across the city."

Adrien nodded seriously as he stirred a pot of soup. "All the way across the city and up to Scotland, to be exact. I figured that would be the most sensible thing to do."

Marinette snorted. "Right. Of course." She snickered. "If that's your idea of sensible, I can understand why your father gave you a set of rules to follow while you're here."

"Very funny."

"I thought so, too." Marinette watched Adrien stir the pot for a few more moments, then asked, "Have you let your father know yet that you won't be heading back to Paris?"

Adrien froze, then promptly swore, one hand flying to his forehead. "Shoot! No, I completely forgot. Here, can you stir this while I text him?"

"Of course." Marinette stepped easily into Adrien's place, taking the spoon and continuing with the stirring with barely an interruption at all. "But how did you forget? He's only been sending you several texts per day asking about it."

Adrien just grinned sheepishly. "I just started ignoring it, to be honest. After a while, it just became background noise."

Marinette groaned at him. Adrien laughed.

"Do you think he'll come to London to watch you walk?"

Adrien snorted as he pulled his phone out from his pocket. "Hardly. He's seen me walk before at home. If he hasn't bothered to come to see Madam Rosalie's runway shows before, he's hardly going to start now." He tapped away at the screen, then sent the text. "Done. Actually, the runway gives me a nice excuse not to go home. I was worried that my father would call me every day to try to persuade me to go back to Paris for the break."

Marinette had to laugh at that. "You were never planning on going home for the break, were you?"

Adrien flashed her a sheepish smile. "Well, I mean, I did consider it..."

Marinette waited.

"...for about an hour sometime back near the start of term," Adrien finished, trying for his best innocent look. It didn't quite fit with the strangely familiar smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "But I knew my father would pester me if I said that right away, so I let him think that I was still trying to make up my mind."

"He pestered you anyway," Marinette said with a sigh as Adrien's phone let out a ding. Adrien had complained about the pestering nearly every day and Marinette had only just refrained from pointing out that it generally was a good idea to make up one's mind about whether or not they would be visiting well in advance so that no one would have to scramble to get last minute plane tickets. She supposed that it probably wasn't a huge deal for the Agrestes, though. They certainly had enough money to buy last-minute tickets left and right. "I fail to see how telling him outright would have made a difference."

"I figured it would be like the difference in my father's behavior when I was considering going to school in London compared to when I made my final decision," Adrien admitted, checking his phone as it let out a ding. "Father was trying to gently dissuade me when I hadn't decided yet, and then once I had, he was coming up with new reasons every day why I shouldn't go."

"Was that him?" Marinette asked, nodding to Adrien's phone.

"Yup. He's not happy, but he can understand. He was just glad that he hadn't already bought tickets for me." Another ding, and Adrien checked his phone again. "Aaaaand... he apparently already had Nathalie look up when I would be walking, so he wants to know if I'll be coming back after my part of the runway show is done."

Marinette raised a curious eyebrow as Adrien tapped out a response. "Let me guess...you 'haven't decided yet'?"

Adrien grinned and sent the message. "Nah. I said that I wanted to stick around to see the entirety of Madam Rosalie's lines walk because this was your first show, and then I want to go with you to a couple of the other shows you mentioned. By the time those would be over it wouldn't be worth the time or the money to go back to Paris."

"Using me as a shield then, hmm?" Marinette teased before glancing down into the pot. "Uh, how long do I have to stir this for?"

"Until the timer goes off." Another ding came from Adrien's phone and he checked it once more. "And hey, it worked. He said that's great and that I should stay."

Marinette raised an eyebrow.

"I might have mentioned that your parents and Nino and Alya wouldn't be able to make it," Adrien admitted with a grin. "So I would be the only person from Paris that you knew here."

Marinette laughed at that, shaking her head. "You're the worst, really."

Adrien's stomach growled before he could respond and they both laughed.

"I brought fresh cookies," Marinette said before Adrien could start snitching from the salad. With her free hand, she pointed to the small basket she had brought over. Most of the cookies she had made she had left for Tikki, but just because the small god loved chocolate-chip cookies didn't mean that Marinette couldn't share some of them. Cookies were best fresh, after all. "Go ahead."

"I'll spoil my appetite," Adrien said, though she could tell that he wasn't terribly opposed to the idea. He drifted forward a few steps. "And I really shouldn't, not until I'm done modelling for Fashion Week..."

Marinette waited.

"But I mean, I did get in some decent walking around today, what with the grocery shopping and going to Rosalie Fashions and walking around in the museum..."

Smiling, Marinette kept stirring. Adrien might try to resist the call of freshly baked cookies, but they were his weak spot. Sure enough, seconds later, there was the sound of quiet munching.

Hah. She knew he wouldn't be able to resist.

"What did you look at in the Natural History Museum?" Marinette asked, peering into the pot of soup. "Surely you couldn't see everything?"

"Some things were more interesting than others," Adrien admitted. He didn't move away from the basket of cookies. "I spent most of my time in the Blue Zone. They have so many specimens, it's amazing. And the blue whale model, and the skeletons-"

The timer beeped, and Marinette stopped stirring. Adrien trotted over, cookie hanging half-eaten from his lips.

"Time to eat!" Adrien announced, switching off the heat. He took another bite of his cookie and grinned at her. "If I still have space for it, that is."

Marinette poked his side. "Yeah, yeah. You say that like I didn't just see you put away three whole servings for dinner yesterday. I'm sure you'll survive."

Adrien just laughed.

  "Tart?" Marinette offered as Adrien brought his plate and bowl into the kitchen once they were finished with dinner. "I swung past the bakery while I was out on my supply run and I just couldn't resist."

Adrien groaned as he paused. The tarts Marinette was offering smelled (and looked) amazing, and there was nothing more he wanted to do than eat one, but... "Did you forget that I'm being a model again? I'm pretty certain I'm not allowed carbohydrates, never mind sweets. You'll destroy my diet."

"Do some jumping jacks first, then."

He couldn't hold back his laugh. "I don't think our downstairs neighbors would appreciate that."

"Do it tomorrow, then, between your fittings. No downstairs neighbors to worry about."

Adrien grinned and took the plate Marinette was offering before ruffling her hair with his other hand. His friend laughed and ducked away. "You're an awful influence on me, I hope you know that."

Marinette grinned as she patted her hair back down. "Guilty."

"I'm blaming you if I can't fit into my pants during Fashion Week," Adrien said with a laugh as he took the first bite of his tart. He closed his eyes as he let the taste melt on his tongue. "Mmmm. This is delicious."

"Worth the jumping jacks?"

Well, he wasn't about to let her win that easily. "Well, maybe..."

Definitely. It would definitely be worth it, even if Adrien had actually been worried about the extra treat at all. With his tests over, he could just go for a quick run over the rooftops to work off the extra energy from the tart- and from the cookies- in a heartbeat. Besides, it wasn't as though he had been on a diet in the first place. He had been eating normally, sweets and all, and the clothes had been fit to that.

"So dramatic," Marinette sighed as she settled into her chair with her own tart. She took a bite and sighed in bliss. "I knew these looked good. I just had to buy them."

"Doesn't everything in a bakery look good?" It certainly did to Adrien. He had to restrain himself from popping in to buy something from the bakery on the way to the bus stop every day.

"In a good bakery, maybe. Others are a bit of a mixed bag." Marinette took another bite and Adrien waited for her to swallow and keep explaining. "Some places tend to overbake things, or maybe they didn't do their caramelization quite right, or there's just things off that make me think that they didn't combine things quite right." She shrugged. "It comes with growing up in a bakery. Papa would sometimes experiment with new recipes and we would taste them. Some things were more successful than others."

"I can't see your dad making anything that tasted anything less than delightful."

Marinette laughed at that. "I'm inviting you over next time he goes on an experimenting spree. He almost always does it during the month that we have to be closed for vacation and some of his first round of creations are less than great."

"I can't wait." Adrien took another slow bite of the tart, savoring the flavor. He'd definitely have to buy more in the future because it really was superb. "Does he add new things to the bakery often, then, if his experiments work out?"

"Not often. Normally he turns those things into a special of the month, or holiday specials. Sometimes he finds something that's popular enough that he'll add it to the regular selection."

"Doesn't it make it harder to make everything if he has a wider variety of things that he offers?" Adrien wanted to know. "Because I know that croissants take forever, and decorating takes time, and your family makes so much of everything..."

"And we only have so much shelf space," Marinette pointed out. "But we do have mixing vats for some of the big bread batches, and my parents do have other staff that come in and help get things going in the morning. They wouldn't be able to get everything done themselves, even as early as they get up. My dad bakes throughout the day, of course, so that things on the shelves are fresh all day. Some people pile up the shelves at the start of the day and don't keep baking, but my dad said that just leads to dry, stale bread and a lot of people want warm bread when they come into a bakery."

"It does seem like it tastes better when warm," Adrien admitted. "Whatever your parents are doing, it certainly does seem to be working for them. Their bakery is amazing." He took another bite of his tart. "Do they make anything like this?"

"I don't think so. I should bring a couple to my father next time I go home and see if my dad can come up with a recipe of his own. I think they would be popular."

"You'd never get me to leave if your father made these," Adrien said with a grin before he changed the subject. "What time does Madam Rosalie want me to come in tomorrow? And is there a dress rehearsal before the show?"

"About nine, and no, we just have workers that shove the models into place and out onto the runway. It's less work that way, according to Madam Rosalie. And it generally works, as long as we have experienced models. That was part of the reason that we really didn't want to have to pick up a new model last-minute, because they might not be experienced enough to handle the way Madam Rosalie does it."

"I'll get to sleep in, then," Adrien decided with a grin. He finished his last bite of the tart, cleaning off the plat, and then he glanced up at his friend. "Well, I have nothing to study and you have nothing to sew. Want to watch a movie?"

"You bet."

[sunflowersim]

Can I ask for harmony and Ross all 😂🙈

YOU CAN! BUCKLE UP BECAUSE IT’S A LONG RIDE, KIDDIES

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice?

Harmony. She has more of a tendency to lose her temper than Ros

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?

Neither one of them are the type do to that. 

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?

If either one says they’re gonna leave, then they’re gonna leave

Who trashes the house?

I wouldn’t say “trash the house”, but Harmony just won’t pick up any messes just to irritate Ros and make him do it himself 

Do either of them get physical?

Oh no, they would never 

How often do they argue/disagree?

Not very often - they have little disagreements when it comes to little things like movie plots and stuff, but it’s all play. 

Who is the first to apologise?

Harmony, for losing her tempter

Sex:

Who is on top?

They take turns most of the time depending how they’re feeling

Who is on the bottom?

Most of the time it’s Harmony, but, again, depends on how they’re feeling 

Who has the strangest desires?

Harmony. 

Any kinks?

Lets just say they have a lot of games that involve handcuffs and blindfolds  

Who’s dominant in bed?

Ros definitely lets Harmony call all the shots

Is head ever in the equation?

Uh, duh

If so, who is better at performing it?

Depends on who you ask, really. Ros would say Harmony and she would say Ros

Ever had sex in public?

Nope. At least, not yet

Who moans the most?

Harmony, which is totally okay with Ros. 

Who leaves the most marks?

Ros. He doesn’t mean it most of the time, but everything shows up on her white skin

Who screams the loudest?

Neither one really screams

Who is the more experienced of the two?

Well, both had only been with one other person, but Ros was with Norah longer....then again, Indigo isn’t exactly sweet and gentle, either. So, it’s a toss up, really. Depending on you mean by “experience”

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

Make love, definitely 

Rough or soft?

Soft. Ros is a very gentle lover

How long do they usually last?

Maybe an hour? Depending on time of day and if there are any kids in the house. They like to take their time

Is protection used?

Right now, yes. But, they’ve talked about wanting more kids, so. 

Does it ever get boring?

Nah, they love each other too much for it to ever get boring

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?

Kitchen table - which was covered with a tablecloth and then thoroughly disinfected afterwards 

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children?

They have kids

If so, how many children do your muses want/have?

2: Lily and Mauve 

Who is the favorite parent?

Depends on who you ask. Lily loves hearing Ros’s stories about catching bad guys and Mauve is a momma’s boy

Who is the authoritative parent?

You’d think Ros, right? But it’s actually Harmony 

Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school?

Harmony 

Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around?

Ros, which gets him in trouble sometimes

Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children?

Both! Harmony is a guaranteed and Ros tries to work around his job 

Who goes to parent teacher interviews?

Harmony

Who changes the diapers?

They both do...no matter how hard Ros fights to get out of it

Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby?

They take turns. 

Who spends the most time with the children?

Harmony, mostly because of Ros’s job

Who packs their lunch boxes?

Harmony

Who gives their children ‘the talk’?

I imagine they’d be those parents that both sit down with their child. You know, get both sides of the story

Who cleans up after the kids?

Harmony...Ros will help out when he can, but she’s normally got everything clean by the time he gets home. 

Who worries the most?

Harmony, again

Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from?

Sapphire, neither one of them swears 

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle?

They both do!

Who is the little spoon?

They take turns

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

Harmony

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  

Ros

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

About 20 minutes, max. Harmony fidgets a lot

Who gives the most kisses?

Ros

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?

Watching movies, late at night after the kids are asleep. That way they can have all the junk food without them begging

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?

Their bed

Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? 

Harmony

How often do they get time to themselves?

Definitely not as often since Mauve was born. They used to get the weekends to themselves, now they mostly get nighttime

Sleeping:

Who snores?

Ros!

If both do, who snores the loudest?Do they share a bed or sleep separately?

They share a bed

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

They love cuddling, and are always touching in some way 

Who talks in their sleep?

Harmony will sometimes mumble, but never actual words

What do they wear to bed?

Ros normally wears sleep pants(that Harmony picked out), and Harmony wears the matching pair and will alternate between the matching top and a tank top - depending on the temperature 

Are either of your muses insomniacs?

Nah, not really

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

Nope

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

Harmony usually wraps a leg over Ros 

Who wakes up with bed hair?

Harmony

Who wakes up first?

Ros, because of his job 

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

Harmony enjoys cooking

What is their favourite sleeping position?

Ros enjoys spooning, when he’s the little spoon and Harmony’s favorite is Ros laying flat on his back with her laying on his chest 

Who hogs the sheets?

Harmony

Do they set an alarm each night?

Ros does for work. Harmony’s alarm clock is usually Mauve and Lily

Can a television be found in their bedroom?

Nah

Who has nightmares?

They aren’t frequent, but Ros. Especially when he works on certain cases

Who has ridiculous dreams?

Harmony. She’s got a creative imagination 

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? 

Ros

Who makes the bed? 

Harmony, if she can remember. 

What time is bed time? 

Anywhere from 10-1AM

Any routines/rituals before bed?

Just reading Mauve a bedtime story and tucking Lily in

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

Harmony

Work:

Who is the busiest?

Ros 

Who rakes in the highest income?

Well, that depends. If Harmony has a good bit of commissions lined up, she normally makes pretty good money. When things are slow, Ros brings in more 

Are any of your muses unemployed?

Nah

Who takes the most sick days?

Harmony, even though she works for herself. If she’s not feeling up to painting, she tells herself to take a sick day

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?

Ros, since he actually has a time to be in

Who sucks up to their boss?

Ros

What are their jobs?

Harmony is a painter and Ros is a police officer 

Who stresses the most?

You’d think Ros, right? But it’s actually Harmony. She worries a lot about how her customers will like her work. 

Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

They both enjoy where they’re at 

Are your muses financially stable?

Yeah, I mean, they’re not rolling in dough, but they’re able to care for themselves and the kids comfortably 

Home:

Who does the washing?

Harmony

Who takes out the trash?

That’s usually Lily’s job

Who does the ironing?

You think they iron? ha ha hahaha

Who does the cooking?

Most of the time it’s Harmony. 

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

Ros

Who is messier? 

Again....Harmony. Although she claims “it’s not a mess, just clutter”

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?

Ros is terrible about that....or leaving like, one square left

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

Harmony

Who forgets to flush the toilet?

They are both actually really good about this one

Who is the prankster around the house?

That would be Lily. 

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

That would be Ros, even though Harmony got him a small dish to set them in on his night table. He just refuses to use to for some reason.

Who mows the lawn?

It’s a mix. If Ros is off that day, he’ll do, but if he’s working and it needs to be done, Harmony will

Who answers the telephone?

They both do

Who does the vacuuming?

Harmony

Who does the groceries?

They try to make it a family adventure

Who takes the longest to shower?

Harmony

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?

Ros

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem?

Not really

How many cars do they own?

They don’t because it’s sims, but i imagine them owning one

Do they own their home or do they rent?

Own, thanks to Harmony

Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside?

Well, they don’t live near the coast

Do they live in the city or in the country? 

More like a suburban area 

Do they enjoy their surroundings?

Yeah, they do 

What’s their song?

Endlessly by The Cab

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

The same thing they do when they’re together? Like, paint, watch tv, ect. 

Where did they first meet?

Harmony’s parent’s house years ago

How did they first meet?

Azalea didn’t have a babysitter for Ros so she asked Harmony’s parents if she could bring him along....it was only supposed to be a one-time thing but, well....

Who spends the most money when out shopping?

Probably Harmony

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?

Neither, really

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

Harmony is usually the one tripping, so Ros

Any mental issues?

I can confirm that Harmony has a touch of anxiety

Who’s terrified of bugs?

Harmony

Who kills the spiders around the house?

Ros...or Lily, if he’s not around

Their favourite place?

The back porch swing 

Who pays the bills?

They both do

Do they have any fears for their future?

Nah, not really

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

Ros

Who uses up all of the hot water? 

Harmony

Who’s the tallest?

Ros

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

Harmony. Ros will be enjoying a nice, hot shower and then turn around for the shampoo and bam, there she is. He never complains, though. 

Who wanders around in their underwear?

Ros, probably, but not so much now that they have the kids.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

Ros. He likes to embarrass Harmony

What do they tease each other about?

Harmony’s clumsiness 

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

Harmony. I mean, how you seen Ros’s work uniform. He picked those colors out

 Do they have mutual friends?

I mean...do Sapphire and Norah count?

Who crushed first? 

OOOO, tough one. I think Ros was the first one to develop romantic feelings. Harmony...had too much on her plate at the time. 

Any alcohol or substance related problems?

Nah

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?

Harmony

Who swears the most?

Neither, really.