#two months of working on it only to turn the chapter of 34 into the chapter of shit

[itstimeforstarwars]

After writing the first scene in the next chapter, I wrote down three things that I needed to put in the scene. I now have four more pages of this scene but none of the three things have made it in.

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘’NEXT TIME (1/?)’’

Aaron Hotchner x bau! fem! reader

18+

- only got 3 more exams left and then i’m free ahhhhh. i’m working on like 3 fics at the same time to procrastinate lmao. but my boy aaron takes priority. i was planning on making this an even longer fic with like a super sad ending but its so damn long i’ll have to add another chapter. love yaaaa x

warnings: smutty smut smut so be warned. pnv. some angsty aspects lowkey. aaron being the dom we all know he is. some swearing and bants.

It shouldn't have happened. It wasn't right. Your moral compass was straying, but when you were with Hotch...did it really matter if it felt like you were morally grey?

Time was blurring into a pin sphincter, it was flowing out of your fingertips and your grip on it was as neglectful as it was pathetic. Six months of dancing around knives and eggshells with Hotch, to hide the unprofessional courtesy of a passionate love affair between two federal agents that are bound by their work…..and secretly each other.

All you could ask yourself at this point was:

How did it come to this?

How could you have possibly been this stupid? This weak. This subjective. Now it was going to be the death of you, in more ways than one. It all started with one look, one small moment of weakness within both of you would inevitably be your undoing. One stupid look, on one stupid night between two sad and lonely people desperate to feel something, anything other than the pain and horror that's experienced every day on this job.

You stopped in your tracks when you should've kept walking.

————————

12:34 am. You were so close, the end of this day was near, thank God. You had been rushing around all day- the case was nearby but it was especially difficult to catch the unsub due to Hotch's personal connection to this one. He had worked a similar case to this one when he first started the bureau and it turned out that this was a bloodline murderer and stalker- the unsub's father was the original killer on one of Hotch's first cases and he was just carrying on his legacy. Alex Wall was definitely an unsub worth remembering. It was hazy but solved, what was unusual though was that you noticed it seemed to affect Hotch in a way you've never seen before. You knew it was personal for him but you had never seen him crack as much as this, it was jarring and it made you halt in your tracks

Aaron Hotchner finally peeling back the brooding facade seemed like a lunar event that happened once in every blood moon. It reminded you that Hotch was just a man. Just human. Not this robotic machine that caught killers for a living. The thought made your gaze soften as you collected your files from your desk, your brain turning to static as these thoughts about your boss run rampant through the forefront of your mind. It made you think. Everyone comes to Hotch when they have a problem, and he always seemed to have a solution. But who did he go to when he felt like the world was asking too much of him? When the stress of this job felt like an eternal haunt? You dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

You and Hotch were in the same chilly waters. Ice blooded. You were both incredibly opposed to each other, even though you were both serious as hell about this job. If anything, you were supposed to get along like a house on fire as you inhibited the same outlook. He especially pissed you off on this case because you suggested that the unsub might have been stalking his victims for a span of 6 months and then attacking. You've never believed in anything this strongly about a case in so long but Hotch shot you down. But your gut wasn't lying. It never did.

You shouldn't be reading into this, you shouldn't even care about it but your conscious was poking at you. Plus you had some files you needed to drop off.

No. Not now.

It was late, you were the only ones here and you weren't sure if you were ready to indulge in conversation just yet. You could drop it off tomorrow morning. You walked past his office and caught a glimpse of him through his blinded windows, he was writing but he looked distracted. Agitated. Sad, even. Alcohol. It definitely caught your attention and you resented it deeply. You were too much of a good person, the thought made your eyes narrow as you stopped in your movements. Instead, you shifted and turned around and stared at Hotch's door. Taking a deep breath before knocking.

‘’Come in.’’ Hotch said curtly, lowering his pen and standing up from his desk so he was in your eyeline

‘’I have some files for you to close the case." You parroted his tone back at him as you handed him the files.

"Thank you."

You paused for a moment to study him. Maybe it was because of how dark it was outside, maybe it was because Hotch was looking incredibly attractive in this light right now but it seemed your tongue was moving faster than your brain.

"What's wrong with you?" You questioned brusquely, not in an insulting way but in a matter-of-fact way.

‘’I'm sorry?’’ Hotch raised his brow at your purpose. It wasn't that surprising that you spoke whatever it is that was prancing around in that mind of yours but it didn't mean that it wasn't disarming

‘’Do you keep spare glasses in your drawers as well as the whiskey or do you just splash a dose into your coffee after hours?’’ You attempted to conceal your smirk but it barely worked.

Hotch just glared at you with furrowed brows and a certain distasteful passivity that you'd grown to expect but he wasn't lashing out at you- he was too tired and drained. He opened his drawer and pulled out two glasses and the bottle of whiskey he indulges in after hours when a case had seemed to scramble up his head. He knew it would be useless to lie to you right now, not when you were looking this incredible this late at night. The thoughts occupied him when he poured you a glass.

‘’Sit.’’ He ordered and you comfortably obliged.

"Thank you." You chirped with a half smile as he handed you the drink and he resumed his position of sitting, his fingertips toying with the glass. You sat in silence for a while, studying each other. Noticing how uneventful and sad everything is. Hotch thought you looked beautiful in front of him.

"I think you don't give yourself enough credit.’’

"For what?"

"For how incredible you are."

Hotch's stare intensified, compliments weren't a rare occurrence for him to endure but from you, was…memorable. The words you uttered made his body still.

‘’Thank you. Coming from a woman like you, I'm flattered.’’ He was happy with his more than eloquent response.

"'A woman like me?"

"The smart and beautiful kind."

You chuckled dryly, your face blushing a cute pink at his compliment- he caught you out and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't completely happy with himself.

You on the other hand were afraid you were going to start sweating in front of him, your thighs were involuntarily clamping together.

"Why are you telling me this?" Hotched added, your sudden declaration piqued his interest.

‘’I’ve heard whispers of you transferring." You sighed as you crossed your arms. "I'm hoping it's not true."

This wasn't because of your own biased viewpoint of Hotch at all, the team would literally have a gaping hole without him. Quite frankly, the team would fall apart. Everyone would be directionless. You never really put weight to these rumors but there's no smoke without any fire. The thought soured your mood and it was written all over your face, you hoped he wouldn't notice it but as usual, it was impossible for him not to.

‘’I thought about it a while back, maybe to transfer to a white-collar crime division but I've found that I'm far too attached to this team. You won't be getting rid of me that easily.’’

‘’I prefer it to stay that way.’’ You said softly like an angel wistfully staring down from the clouds. Your face instinctively brightened at the fact he was staying here. He's the only one that could effectively lead this team and you also didn't want him to leave your eyeline anytime soon.

Now you didn't know what to say, you both shared a longing look- something so strange and hard to define. It was easy for him to get you like this, like the basest of sentimentality, like a child at prayer. You were so good at hiding things, it was a skill that you practically needed to have in order for the people you work with not to pry into your life. Now, it all felt superficial when your exterior was cracking under his brutal gaze.

Hotch was a force of nature, you were sure even the weather bowed down at his feet. The thought made you bite your lip as you bashfully hung your head before meeting his eyes once more.

‘’Your tell.’’ Hotch stated.

‘’What?’’ Your eyes were bright with invitation and confusion, catching you and disarming you once more.

‘’You're nervous but I can't figure out for the life of me why.’’ Hotch announced and it made a deep pit form within your stomach, a strange heat swirling within your gut. Why was it only with him you felt this way? It was like he was playing God with you. You no longer wished to entertain whatever deduction he had going on, mostly for your own professionality and dignity so you stood up from your seat with your empty whisky glass in hand and leaned over. Face to face. Real close, placing your glass down in front of him. His scent was mystifying, his cologne was headily intoxicating.

You whispered. ‘’If I told you then transferring might be a good option for you to keep open.’’ Your voice was soft and serious, your face was hard to retain your reputation but your pussy was clenching around nothing. You leaned back and walked to the closed door, your hand placed on the handle, ready and willing to leave before Hotch also stood up from his seat and followed you to the door. Before you knew it, you could feel his massive frame and broad shoulders looming behind you. Turning around leaning against the door, you were met with Hotch's flaming and scorching eyes- his face was the nearest it's ever been to yours and you had to stifle any sound your body was willing to make.

‘’I meant what I said.’’ Hotch mumbled. You hung your head up to admire his dauntless eyes.

‘’So did I. You finished for the night?’’

"Yeah, let me just grab my stuff and I'll walk you out."

‘’I’ll just be a second.’’ Your hands twisted at the handle and you walked yourself out. You had to tamper down the shit-eating grin that was adorning your face but it felt like a near impossible task.

It only took a few brief moments to collate your things and swing your bag around your shoulder and before idling about it for too long, Hotch was already walking down the stairs with his eyes completely and utterly set upon you. Fuck. His eyes were unflinching, he drank you in as you waited so patiently and prettily for him, it was a sight beyond wildest dreams.

Neither of you said anything as you walked to the elevator and pressed the button, the tension between the two of you was egregious and so easy to spot. When the elevator dinged and the metal doors opened, Hotch being the gentleman he is, let you in first and pressed the ground floor. Time was going so fast, you had to do or say something before you never got the chance again. You felt his eyes burn into you, that serious Hotch face that's he so infamously known for etched on his defined features.

"What's going on up there, Hotch?" Your voice was flirty and breathy- there's no way you could possibly make it any clearer to him.

‘’You.’’ He declared, your body stood paralysed at the unexpected words.

He grabbed your face harshly and pushed you against the elevator wall, his lips colliding with yours in a battle against wills, a battle against the the longing and tension that hindered you both.

A kiss that was messy- no finesse. Something you absolutely wouldn't ever correlate with Hotch. It was like you wanted your mouths on each other but you knew you couldn't. Between breaths, you mumbled out a plea. ‘’No...no, Hotch…we can't.’’

His mouth traveled to the bare skin of your neck instead and planted kisses to atone for your sighs. They were becoming uncontrollable until he pressed his forehead onto yours.

‘’I know. I know. I just wanted to know what it felt like to feel your lips.’’ His thumb outlined the curves of your lips and and tugged your bottom lip down and all you could do was stare at him dumbly. ‘’I can't stop staring at them but I'm sure you've figured that out already." Hotch admitted in a hazed-out manner, all your body was willing to do was stare at him as he cradled your face, imploring him, begging him for something neither of you could have freely.

"You kissed me.’’ You remarked, completely oblivious and dumbed down by just a kiss. Your eyes were wide and glinting under the soft elevator light.

‘'You are quite the profiler, aren't you?’’ He said gently, traces of humor present in his voice as he stared down at you. You just smirked back at him, finally mustering up the courage to not look like a deer in the headlights.

"You're making me flustered.’’

‘’I can see that.’’ He shot back, almost as if he was goading you on. You paused to let the blood run back into your brain again.

‘’We shouldn’t.’’ You said heavy lidded, hoping he would back off because if he didn’t you’d jump his bones right now. It was like he could read your mind because he instinctively retracted his hands back to himself and instead resumed his prior postion by your side. In a half assed attempt to remain professional. ‘’Do you really want IAB down here probing on all of us?’’

‘’Yeah. We really shouldn’t.’’

——

You were in his bed. Hot. Wet. Aggressive. Bordering on delusional. Trying to hold out on him. Your naked body was all his to savour, all his to touch, all his to pleasure.

‘’Aaron…fuck….I’m-‘’ You were half hypnotised. Your clear thinking was long gone at this point but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

‘’Tell me what you want, tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.’’

His voice was gruff. Sincere. It was able to turn you into a pile of ashes in an instant, it was pathetic but reasonable. You didn't know how to answer him, you knew with all your heart that you wanted him and now you have him- you had no idea what to even do after that, you never thought you'd get that far.

Your head was dangling off the edge of the bed, hanging off as he kissed down your neck, making you writhe and squirm beneath him in the delicious process.

‘’I just want you, Aaron...I-m-‘’ You couldn't properly articulate a sentence, your brain was fogged up with arousal.

‘'Come on baby, be more specific with me.’’

‘’Aaron.’’ You warned.

‘’Or I'll stop.’’ He replied in a thick, heavy voice.

‘’Don't be cruel.’’

With that, he smirked at you and leaned up from your body to stare down at you through surveying and analytical eyes, another means to tease you- he knew you couldn't take it anymore, you were desperate and it made him all the more aroused. The thought was a chilling one. It was an irrefutable fact: Hotch needed control in every aspect of his life. Especially in bed.

‘’You're the one that's been cruel.’’ Hotch declared softly as if he was profiling you- it made you bite your lip, the way that he's literally got you in his bed and made you this fucking wet already but he still had a polite tone. Hotch reached for your face delicately and traced his thumb on your soft lips. ‘’Oh, honey. You really have no idea how cruel you've been to me over the past few months.’’

‘’Enlighten me.’’ You flirted back. He paused at the brashness of your challenge.

Hotch gave you a severe look and attempted to dismiss you but he knew it was futile, you were insatiable.

‘'Aaron. Enlighten. Me.’’ You enunciated, unafraid of the consequences he would so deliciously inflict on you. You were begging for it at this point.

‘’No.’’ Hotch replied simply and just grasped your hips harshly making you yelp. Your ears pricked up at the clank of his belt being unbuckled.

"Fuck you, Aaron.'’ You whined as he started to position himself at your throbbing pussy. Lord above, he was massive and you didn't doubt it one bit. But Aaron not baring his secrets only reinforced the reason why you disliked him in the first place, even when he's about to fuck you into oblivion, he's secretive and closed off.

‘'That's no way to talk, is it? Apologize.’’ He demanded as his eyes met yours.

"No.’’

‘’Apologize or I'll edge you until morning's end.’’ His lips fell into an undeniably serious frown, he wasn't joking- he looked angry and it only escalated your heart rate. Your mouth was running before you could stop it.

‘'You don't actually think I'd have any complaints about that, do you?'’ You raised your brow at him, passion and desperation oozing out of every pore, hatred spewing from your eyes.

Hotch contemplated your purpose underneath him, a fire boiling within him every second his eyes panned to you. You were squirming and bucking against him already, desperate for friction. Lord, you were frustrating. And completely beguiling. It was so difficult getting you to shut the fuck up at work and it transfers into bed too. He knew you'd pretend that this never even occurred. Going to work. Going about your day. Acting as if he didn't leave you shaking and dripping the night before.

Aaron was a calm and reasonable man when needed to be- but you were a force that made him reckon with his own calm and reasonable iudements

He wanted to do wicked things to you.

He wanted to make you weep under him.

If he were a smart man, he would let someone else have you. He would be selfless, he could do that if he really wanted to. But you were his: His sweet fixation.

His. Only.

‘’You're drooling all over yourself.’’ Hotch gritted through clenched teeth, the need to possess you clouding him when his hands flew straight to his belt and undid it so roughly you thought the buckle would snap. Your gasp was sweet and breathless and he wanted to inhale it.

'’Aaron just touch me. Please.'’ Your beg was a sore reminder of how desperate you were for the man that you once considered the bane of your existence, it made you lazily attempt to bite back a smirk. Now you were under him, filled with reckless abandon. You were too busy being flushed and wonton that you were entirely shocked to feel his tip graze you already. You couldn't do anything, your head was just hanging off the edge of the bed and you were locked within him.

‘’Where?’’ He asked, dragging it out.

‘'Fuck...you. You know exactly where.’’ You spat back at him, completely unimpressed by his need to prove something that didn't need to be proven.

‘’You never talk to me like this at work.’’ Aaron reached his hand and wrapped his fingers around the skin of your neck. His tone was severe. And a strange frisson of fear, arousal, and anger started to welt within you.

‘’You actually get things done at work.’’ You scolded, instantly regretting your response because of the reaction you were sure to get.

Aaron didn't even pause after you uttered those words. He pushed his throbbing dick inside of you, not even bothering to tease you into it, get you to ease up. He clenched his hand harder against your neck and he bit your neck. You were shocked. He liked it. He was being selfish, caring about his own suffering and pleasure more than yours. Bless your heart, he knew you regretted saying it but you said it anyway. He couldn't let this behavior pass, he just couldn't. It wasn't in his bones. You were moaning and whimpering as your bodies rocked back and forth. Oh, you were full of regret. It was adorable

‘’Apologize. Now.’’ Aaron demanded deliciously against your skin, biting and nipping at your collarbone to torture you and make you weak.

‘’No! You can't- you won't-‘’ You couldn't string together a sentence he was fucking into you that good, that heavy, that deep. words sank into your soul, the realization only dawning upon you.

‘’Say sorry.’’ He cooed.

A rumble of helplessness coated your chest, you felt so exposed, you felt so tainted by his presence. This was something to remember, something to keep close. Aaron. Just Aaron. The real Aaron. The Aaron behind the tight ties and tailored suits, the man behind the polite forms and cooler than fucking ice and steel. All you could do was whine like a bitch in heat. He was pounding into you so hard you were sure your pussy would remember the shape of him.

‘’Come on baby. Articulate.’’ Hotch smiled menacingly, his eyes spiraling in complete satisfaction at how dumb he's got you. An experienced profiler that's seen it all forgetting how to use her tongue. It was cute as fuck.

‘’I'm sorry!’’ You screamed at him, his fingers gripping the dip of your waist even harder than before.

"Now thank me.’’ He ordered cooly. This you could do. He was fucking you so hard and so good it made your head spin.

‘’Thank you. So much, Aaron. Fuck...so good.’’

This he liked. You being grateful. Compliant. God, his dick was so hard it was threatening to fall off. Aaron always seemed to avoid beautiful women, or just dating altogether after Haley - the women he wanted harbored secrets and made his life a living hell. You were no exception, but you were always someone he had to look twice at. Fuck, that face. He wanted to cum all over those pretty lips and in time he will.

‘’Good girl. My perfect girl.’’ He whispered and it sent your body into nothing but a blaze. Aaron knew you were clenching around him, your wetness spreading around his rigid dick. You were going to finish.

Woah. This was...fast. An indefinite ego boost.

‘’Aaron!’’ You screamed, your throat going raw as you wrapped your hands in his hair and tugged tirelessly as he bit your tits.

‘’I’m gonna-‘’

‘’Now cum.’’ He ordered again.

It was like your heart was being strangled and your stomach was doing flips. Your heat was spreading to every inch of your body and it felt like the man was corrupting you- ironic because he's just so damn good and an altruist. You convulsed and a loud throaty moan left you, it was like your soul was leaving your body too. Your cunt squeezed him tighter and Aaron gripped onto you just as much.

But then his hand reached over your mouth and his palm covered your lips to silence the scream that came exactly the same time. Damn, profilers. You came violently around him, your perfect body arching into him as your body relaxed. It was so immediate. It was the fastest you've ever came. Aaron could then clear the knots in his lower stomach as he gladly painted your insides. It was such a fucking relief from all this stress and this tension between you.

It was necessary. You were a necessity to him.

It wasn't professional, but he couldn't care when he was in you.

Aaron's insanely massive hands aided you in getting you fully back on the bed, you were starting to feel sore, and it made you feel alive. He handled you as if you were a dove, gently caressing your skin as he crawled back up into his bed, your head hitting the pillow. Your neck needed the support, the blood had rushed straight to your head and you still couldn't believe you were in Aaron bed. As he stood up to go to his bathroom, he took a second to admire you as you were splayed out like a goddess about the clouds looking down on him: he was just a man and you were an angel. Twisted in bedsheets with a sheen of sweat thinly coating your skin-you looked like a mythical being. Golden.

'What are you gawking at?' You caught onto his lingering stare.

‘’Nothing.’’ He dismissed, whipping his head around as he headed to the bathroom to get a towel. Brooding as always, even after fucking the woman that has plagued his dreams and thoughts for months.

You felt yourself get giddy at the sweetest oblivion. You couldn't escape it. You bit your lip and your pussy started throbbing again.

Aaron stared at himself in the bathroom mirror as he grabbed a towel and put his boxers back on. An apparent blush stained his face and his hair was in disarray. Wow, he really went at it. Some profiler. His whole body was coated in sweat and he felt his palm twitch slightly. He wasn't completely enthralled with the idea of his inability to keep his hands off of you, he was afraid this would transfer into his behavior at work. He calmed the swelling idea as he had to trust his instincts of being completely unbiased. Yeah, he could do it. He couldn't help but smile into his reflection, he felt elated with you. Like the man he knew he could be with you. He went back into his bedroom and there you were laying there wearing nothing but a smile. He doesn't think he's ever seen you this flustered. You felt like a teenager the way you were blushing a light pink.

‘’Now what are you gawking at?’’ Aaron parroted your question from earlier and it made you flick your tongue on your front teeth.

‘’You.’’

‘’Since when were you honest?’’ He joked as he sat back on the bed and helped you clean yourself up.

‘'Since you fucked me until I couldn't think.’’ You replied truthfully, completely impressed with yourself. ‘’At least I can admit it.’’

‘'Huh, I wonder what would've happened if you didn't listen to me.’’ Aaron scoffed as threw the towel on the floor.

‘’Let's try that out next time.’’ You flirted unashamedly. Eyes locking in a perpetual battle, two strong wills locked within mere gazes. Like a drug you knew that was bad for you, but you couldn't help but beg for hit after hit.

‘’There's a next time?’’ He flirted back with a wicked gleam in his eye.

‘’Or we could go back to work. Stripping each other with our eyes. Wanting nothing but to fuck like bunnies. Or maybe even being as unprofessional as bending me over and fucking me on your desk.’’

‘’You never talk to me like this at work.’’ He repeated from before when he was quite literally inside of you. Something that's not forming into your own personal inside joke.

‘’You actually get things done at work.’’ You smirked and he bent down and kissed your lips then the bridge of your nose and then your forehead.

Aaron crawled into the sheets next to you and held you, pulling you into his embrace, his big arms holding you steady. Your hair cascaded against the pillows around you forming a halo-like effect in your stature. Did this mean you were quite literally an angel? His angel? The thought made him hold onto you tighter, you felt it and it made you kiss his lips tenderly.

‘’Hm, so beautiful, so frustrating.’’ He mumbled and you giggled at him.

God, he was so good. He was the best at what he does and he was able to make you feel so safe in his arms and in his presence. A few thoughts occurred to you as you fell into his chest, inhaling his scent as your eyes went heavy. You felt happy. Your dark thoughts were quelled as his fingers traced around your skin. It was like you could see a future where you weren't constantly looking over your shoulder waiting for the other shoe to drop. You...deserved this

But you couldn't have this and your job.

No.

Not now.

You'll think about the consequences later. Right now, everything is just him.

————————

It felt as though Hotch's ears were ringing.

A dull, screeching sound awakened him from the best night's sleep he's ever had, with you, here, next to him. Lying on his chest, breathing in and out, long lashes fanning your face perfectly. It felt too good to be true, for him to have you in his embrace. The ringing of his phone lighting up the bedside table made him sigh, he couldn't deal with this right now. Not this late or early, not when he had you in his arms- that was his priority right now. But he had a job to do, he couldn't give that up. You started to stir from your sleep as the phone continued ringing.

‘'Aaron...phone.’’ You mumbled. Hotch reached for the phone and tried to act as if he had been awake for hours but in reality, he was twisted in bedsheets with his colleague.

‘’Agent Hotchner.’’ He answered as he put the phone to his ear, his grip on you becoming tighter than before.

‘’Agent Hotchner, this is Erin Strauss. We have an issue.’’ Aaron's brows furrowed and his face hardened, why was Strauss calling him at this hour? Your eyes blinked open as he looked up at Aaron, he was wearing his serious face

‘’Involving?’’

‘’Alex Wall. He escaped from prison an hour ago and he's already killed again. Washington P.D has no leads and they need the BAU back.’’

‘’I'll be right there.’' He replied flatly but his blood was burning cold and his heart was thundering within his chest, he wasn't sure if you could feel it.

'’Aaron, what's wrong?’' You gazed up at him.

‘’We need to go.’’

[a-fluffy-dog24]

The best day

The day Dipper and Mabel were born.

1996 A young Michael and Catherine met for the first time and fell in love. He a high school language arts teacher and she is a in college to be a nurse.Two  year later they tied the knot and one year after that they decided to start a family.

9 months ago Catherine and Michael Pines were expecting twins, Mike has dark curly brown hair and brown eyes.Catherine has straight light brown hair and green eyes.They have been married for three years. They were having fraternal twins, a boy and a girl. They picked out names, got baby cribs clothes and put it in the nursery to bring home their babies .They prepared to start the next chapter of their lives to become parents Catherine is 33 years old she  mature  for her age she feels she is ready to be a mommy and Michael is 34 he can be immature for his age sometimes but he is excited to be a daddy.

Aug/31/1999

She went into labor they drove to the hospital 5:00 am she  sat down in her bed at the hospital the nurse gave her her pain medicines. 4 hours of labor then she pushed Mike held her hand then they're daughter was born at 8:05 am and the doctor unclipped her umbilical and checked her to make sure everything is normal the nurse takes and  puts her in a see through crib .She screamed and cried.

Because she wants her brother but he has the umbilical cord stuck, around his neck in the womb five minutes past of pushing at 8:10 the doctors take him out and quickly unclip the umbilical cord. Their son is born but theirs a problem he turned blue and the parents are looking concerned and worried that their son might not make it. "Why is he not breathing? HELP MY BABY " she cried panicking "help my son please"he held on to the nurse and begged her the doctors start to work to revive  him.Just then Sherman , his wife Faith Catherine's mother Lois and Stan, came in. "What's wrong with him?" Stan yelped in a panic.''He'll be ok" the nurse reassures them the doctor does some more compressions  the baby starts breathing,crying.He screams for his sister the doctor checks him to make sure everything is normal. Faith takes pictures of the babies. For her younger daughters to see their new niece and nephew.

Then the nurse takes the babies and waives them baby A is a little heavier than baby B by a pound or two and she cleans them up giving them their first bath. They only have a little bit of light brown, almost light red hair on their little heads. She gives them their first shots preventing things like polio,whooping cough,hepatitis B they don't like it very much.They stop screaming and crying when they feel the other one is their and they hold hand they can't see well  or hear well yet but they feel each other and that makes them happy.They don't know why they're where separated but their afraid  they'll never be with each other again.

The nurse put diapers on them, wrapped the girl in a pink blanket and the boy in a blue blanket and put the newborns in their mothers arms. "Oh their beautiful Catherine holds her very tiny babies and they sleep, the doctor told them they are perfectly healthy "what I've always wanted, a little girl and a little boy they have your nose" he said looking down at his babies. “And your eyes dear” she told him he kissed her.Michael wrote down the twins names on their birth certificates.Mabel, Ariel, Pines and Masson, Alex, Pines.

She holds and breastfeeds them for a while. They happily drink their mother's milk they eat their first meal. Michael asks Stan if he wants to hold them "would you like to hold the babies" he nods his head he picks the newborn and puts them in Stan's arms. He is 52 years old and looks at both of them and starts crying. He thinks about his brother disappearing and that he wishes that he could be here to meet them.

"Is he ok, why is he upset?" Catherine looked confused "well because he had a twin brother that passed away" Michael explained at least that what he was told.He and his siblings rarely saw their uncles growing up.So he didn’t really know them personally. "what are their names"Stan asked . "Well our girl's name is Mabel, Ariel, Pines" she told him "aww she's adorable"

"and our little boy's name is Masson ,Alex, Pines" he added. When he said that Stan was not paying attention, he was looking at the mark on the boy's forehead. "Hey look at that mark on his head there it kind of looks like some dots, or the big Dipper" he talks to babies quietly as they sleep in his arms. "You two are very cute and small, you got something special, you have a twin. It means you were born with a best friend. The negative is you didn't choose then.And you have to be around each other all the time sometimes you might drive each other crazy but.

They'll know more about you than anyone else and always be there for you to help you I know what it's like to have a twin sibling who you do everything with and grow up with ". The babies sleep peacefully through him talking "I was dumb ones now my twin brother is gone I'd do anything to bring him back, I'm sorry he not here he's would've love you two but maybe one day. Anyway what is that on your forehead look, like the Big Dipper. Dippy can you keep a promise for me to protect your sister I know I did with my brother and be careful ok don't go scaring your parents like that again ."

Dipper makes a "MMM" noise. "What about you sweetie can you promise, you're great uncle Stan to keep your brother out of trouble. I know my brother tried to keep me out of trouble ". Mabel yawned. "I love you two."He hugs them gently "StanFord, can I hold my grandchildren please?"Shermans begged "just one more minute you promise to be less boring" he stood up. " No and you know I don't like trying new things ....I know this is hard for you after losing Stanley but please let me hold them"

"be careful don't fight over my babies"Catherine warned"fine" Stan puts the newborn's in their grandpa Sherman's arm.He  is 60 years old he used to have dark brown hair but now it's gray and white. "I am so happy you guys are here you���re so precious I remember when you Stanford. And Stanley were born when I was 8 years old, mom and dad thought they were only going to have one baby  but you guy's surprised us". Faith smiled and got to hold her grand babies. She used to have blonde hair but now it's white. She holds them and plays with them for a little bit she tell the babies."Ok I can't wait for you guys visit us and we'll play together, I bake you cookies won't that be fun" they start to cry and scream.

Then Lois got a turn she has green eyes and red hair with a few gray streaks.She rocks them to calms them down. The babies stop crying.She talks to the twins "Oh they are really cute I can't wait to get them matching onesies Granny Lois is gonna spoil you two rotten". Catherine laughs. Then she put the babies back into her daughters arms.A few days later Stan and Sherman took the twins to meet their 85 year old great grandmother Carren.She lived a long life and she will pass away soon.She has a strong feeling of deja Vu holding her great grandchildren, and she tells Stan that she hopes he can one day bring Stanford back.

Catherine and Michael took good care of their babies. The babies don't do much the first 3 months they eat,poop,sleep and repeat but their parents enjoy this period.After the babies are bathed and changed Catherine sits on a rocking chair in the nursery and nurses them. Dipper cry and Mabel start crying as well she hold them close and comfort them she sings baby mine softly .Mabel close her eyes and sleeps Dipper sleeps too they love each other but they love their mommy a lot.And she loves them both and that she gets to make them feel better and Michael and Catherine can't wait to raise their children to smart loving people she puts them in to bed. Mike comes in to see if she needs any help. She said she's ok they kissed.

The babies have their own brown cribs in the small nursery the walls have purple wallpaper on them a small yellow rug on the floor.The twins are wearing matching purple onesies

She sometimes dresses them it matching clothes.Mabel sleep in her crib she sucks her thumb she has a Mobile with gold stars on it.Dipper sleep sucking his blue pacifier he is tucked in to his crib his mobile has gold pine trees on it .Michael and Catherine’s parents and his uncle are more than happy to babysit they are happy to have a helpful family.They takes lots of pictures they are starting to sit up at 3 months old and giggle they both know it won't be like this for long.

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 4 - North Greenwich Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 3 Summary: Neil's brief disappearance does nothing to extinguish the sparks. As he returns, you make a series of discoveries about each other and grow ever so much closer. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language, ridiculous amounts of flirting as per usual. Buckle up bc we're amping the pace a little... ;) Author's Notes: Well... that was a long break between the chapters 🙈 My apologies, turns out that having a job takes away the little joys in life like writing silly stories. Anyways, here we are, at last. With another 10.7k. And this one's packed with many good, fun things ;))) Some of those scenes had been months in the making (if not years, considering I first mentioned this AU to Shet in like 2021? I think?). So, yeah. They had it long time coming. More cameos, more nonsensical POV changes and, above all, more certified idiocy by them two kids. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

What Neil’s departure from London did not do was change the way things worked between you. Although you only had meagre information about his whereabouts (such as that he was within the same time zone but in a different country), there was no sense of a breach building in the space of that strange yet solid connection. With the anxieties surrounding the imminent ‘Don Quixote’ premiere keeping your blood pressure high daily, you more than enjoyed being able to pick up your phone and message him whenever possible.

He did not always respond immediately, but it was not a must. What mattered was that Neil eventually got back to you. Never disclosing any information about his work trip, apart from the fact that it was warm there even in mid-October, he still made the effort to keep up with your antics. In that sense, the insanity of the date you had risked changed absolutely nothing.

But it also changed everything.

It was as if your free will chose to conspire with the soul’s desires to get what they wanted. Namely – Neil. Because as soon as you had even begun considering breaching the line separating friendship from every other kind of relationship, your brain decided it was done.

Being his girlfriend was not on the list of priorities or wants, but getting in his pants definitely was. It was almost freeing to admit.

The only question left after all that soul-searching was whether Neil wanted you like that, too. Sometimes there were no doubts about that, either.

Almost a week in, with the ballet previews looming on the horizon and no chance of sleep anytime soon, you huffed an annoyed sigh and picked up the phone from your bedside table. Bleary eyes registered the hour (five past midnight) as you opened apps randomly, already giving up on the promise of sleep. It took you another few minutes to make up your mind, open the texts and stare at the conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours since the last exchange concerning the warmth of the climate wherever he was. You had been (fruitlessly) trying to make Neil send you a picture. Of himself. Not necessarily without clothes, but that was the dream. And a girl was allowed to dream, right?

Squinting at the screen, you hesitated for another millisecond before typing out the simple question:

/ 🏹, 00:15 am/ Are you missing me yet?

Neil did not make you wait for long.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ Obviously.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ I’m barely coping here, sunshine.

/ 🏹, 00:29 am/ Gee, you’re making it too easy.

/✝️, 00:30 am/ Making what too easy?

/ 🏹, 00:33 am/ Missing you.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ See, I thought my cheeky line would get a lukewarm response, so I was prepared to tease you further.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ And now I’ve no quips to offer.

/✝️, 00:39 am/ Apologies. I’ll do better next time.

/ 🏹, 00:40 am/ I’ll make sure of that.

/✝️, 00:42 am/ And what punishment do you propose?

/ 🏹, 00:43 am/ I’ve always wondered what you’d sound like if you begged.

/✝️, 00:44 am/ It could probably be arranged.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ I’ve no qualms about getting on my knees for a beautiful woman.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ But that would hardly be a punishment.

/ 🏹, 00:48 am/ Yeah, but if I let you have that and then left you… on your knees, so painfully hard with no release… How would that feel?

/✝️, 00:51 am/ You win this one.

/✝️, 00:52 am/ And yes, I’m blushing. Fiercely.

/ 🏹, 00:59 am/ Good, I was hoping you are. Goodnight, Neil.

As you hit send on the last message, your head hit the pillows with an audible ‘oof’. Your cheeks burned; the blush invisible in the dark yet still very much there. That was the problem with Neil and your chats. It was impossible to say when they would turn in that direction. When you would both lose control and follow a line of conversation that probably never should have happened. Not that you were complaining.

It was good to know what you could expect from Neil. If things happened the way you wished, they would. Admittedly, he’d look good on his knees. That was a fact.

That night you only got five hours of sleep, but who counted it anyway. What mattered was that you had some excellent dreams. Dreams that you hoped would end up prophetic.

On other days, your conversations were a little more serious. Like that early afternoon when you just finished the final in-costume run of the Cupid variation and exited the ROH to wander the streets of Soho. Whenever you felt close to losing your sanity, the walk around those familiar spots always did the trick. It was easier to breathe, to hope that you would not fuck it all up when the curtain call came. To believe that imposter syndrome was nothing more than a vile bitch.

Sighing against the thoughts muddling your brain, you took out the phone and immediately noticed the new message:

/✝️, 1:49 pm/ How’s the garden of the Dryads coming along?

/✝️, 1:50 pm/ It probably goes without saying that you’re my favourite ballerina.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ Damn, that’s high praise. Especially considering that I’m the only ballerina you know.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ I think the garden is coming along nicely. Not so sure about Cupid, tho.

/✝️, 2:08 pm/ I call bullshit on that.

/✝️, 2:09 pm/ I just know that you’re brilliant.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ Doubt, she said.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ ‘Cause like… How do you deal with the overwhelming weight of expectations?

/✝️, 2:18 pm/ I mean, I panic and lose it instantly, but generally speaking, I think you just sort of… ignore it and trust you are good enough.

/✝️, 2:19 pm/ I know that you are, Cupid. This role was made for you.

/ 🏹, 2:22 pm/ Elaborate, please. I need my ego stroked.

/✝️, 2:23 pm/ Well, she sorts of saunters onto the stage and has a minute to dazzle everyone, yeah?

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ Which is exactly what you did to me.

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ You’ve got this.

/ 🏹, 2:26 pm/ God, you’re irreconcilable. Better come back so I can force you to sit through this.

/✝️, 2:27 pm/ Working on it as we speak.

A smile painted itself on your face with an inerasable stroke of brush. Neil’s constant support and cheerleading were a welcome surprise. Sometimes, your meeting almost felt like a divine intervention. That is if you believed in such things. Because the odds of gaining both a fascinating man to pursue and a friend were quite low. And yet.

As you looped your steps back towards Covent Garden, you made the mental note to visit the box office and add a request for the guest list. It was a rare enough event to have someone you could invite to the performance. And have the right to believe they would come. You were not going to squander that sort of chance.

***

The whirring ceiling fan was starting to get on his nerves with its endless sputtering. And it was not even working, as far as Neil was concerned. The sweat still clung to his skin and trickled down his back to a point where he seriously contemplated ditching the shirt. And that rarely happened. Especially not on the job, with the whole squad confined to a medium-sized safehouse.

The bustle of the city streamed through the windows, cracked open so they could let in fresh air while still having a chance of keeping them safe from snipers and the like. Granted, one could never be fully prepared for an inverted shot, but it was worth trying not to get killed. Especially during a mission that technically was just a recon. Though Neil knew better than to believe The Protagonist when the man claimed something was perfectly safe. He meant well, sure. But despite the appearances, he did not know everything.

So, the windows cracked open three inches had to do. Neil sighed, annoyance digging deep beneath his skin to stay there for a little longer. It was another one of those boring, yet technically productive afternoons in the safehouse. Today, the task was to plan a hypothetical pincer movement. Just in case, they said. Well, Neil sure did hope the case never came to be.

He glanced at the blacked-out screen of his phone, the muscle memory betraying him as he picked up the device almost mindlessly and opened the conversation with Cupid. It had been a few hours since the last chat, which was pretty usual. They did not need to talk all the time. Neil knew that. He also knew that it was probably better they did not talk constantly. Considering that 3 out of 5 conversations always ended up dirty, up to the point where he was blushing like an idiot. And, sometimes disappeared in the bathroom to deal with some troublesome effects of those chats.

Yes, considering all that, Neil knew it was best they took some breaks. But also-

“Blondie, can you give us a hand with this?” the yell from further inside the apartment acted like a bucket of cold water tipped over his head unceremoniously.

Neil whipped his head up, glaring at the open doorway. Unfortunately, being referred to as ‘blondie’ was becoming more frequent. The petulant nature urged him to ignore it, but he knew that was hardly the last one. With another long-suffering sigh, he heaved himself out of the armchair and called back:

“I said I’m coming,” granted, that was over fifteen minutes ago, but everyone could get distracted. Right? “Would it hurt you to ask nicer?” he stalked down the corridor toward the living area with an arched eyebrow.

It was not surprising to meet a mirroring expression on the faces of Ives, Wheeler, and Jeremy sitting in a trifecta of judgment. Neil had no doubts about his place in that makeshift courtroom.

“Yes, when you’re slacking,” Wheeler dropped the disapproving glare with all the air of nonchalance and pointedly glanced at the table covered with maps and blueprints.

Neil had no choice but to sit down in the remaining chair and offer an apologetic pout to anyone willing to hear him out:

“I’m not slacking. I’m just-” whatever excuse he could whip out on a whim got interrupted prematurely.

“Otherwise occupied with your girlfriend. Yes, we know,” Wheeler raised her head once more with a dismissive wave of hand, making Neil consider the possibility that she was close to losing it right there and then.

That possibility was always worrisome, for no anger could compare to that of his friend. Especially when she was pissed off.

But that careful consideration was nothing in the face of the two realisations brought forward by that simple assumption. Firstly - Cupid was decidedly not his girlfriend. Secondly – fucking Ives.

Neil glared at the man in question, hoping his eyes would reveal the murderous intents hidden underneath as his clarifying statement broke the awkward silence:

“She’s not-” he never finished that sentence (perhaps for the better), for the harsh sound of his ringtone filled the room with cacophonic clamour. Neil scrambled to pick up the phone without as much as glancing at the screen, “Hello?” the tentative opener sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

Soon, it was clear he should have checked the caller before picking up.

“Hi, Neil,” Cupid’s silky tone caressed his ear through the device.

Neil knew she did that purposefully, solely inspired to make the idiot inside him blush and giggle like a loser. Make no mistake; Neil was certainly a loser. And an idiot.

Once he felt the shock pass enough to ensure he would not drop the phone he repeated the greeting.

“Umm, hi,” from the corner of his eye, Neil could see the accompanying trio stare at him without trying to be covert about it. Absolute assholes “You’ve never called me before” trust him to state the obvious.

For a second, Neil considered faceplanting onto the table. Equally, the idea of jumping out of the window sounded appealing. The thoughts of potential demise were interrupted by Cupid’s reply:

“I know. I just thought it might be fun to spice things up,” she was definitely enjoying this and the damage she has caused. It was audible in the lightness of her voice, the vowels curled by a cheeky smile he could hear as she asked, “How’s your day?”

No longer happy to ignore his audience, Neil turned towards them with another glare. All three stared back, with Ives going as far as shooting him a knowing smile.

“It’s fine, except for my team being desperate to berate me,” Neil directed the venom in his voice at the trio as Wheeler casually got up from the table and put the kettle on.

The light chuckle from the phone almost made him feel better about it.

“That’s rude,” her remark contrasted with the laughter he could hear in her voice. Yet it was too late to raise the alarm or prepare for what would follow, “Would it be better if I reminded you what a good boy you are?” as soon as Cupid finished the question, Neil felt the full-body reaction she wanted.

A shudder ran through his spine as his face flushed pink. On a last conscious thought, Neil leapt up from the chair and paced towards the window, hiding from the group. A half-swallowed groan broke through his mouth as he tightened his fist, hopelessly trying to forget how those two words sounded on her lips. It was pathetic.

The more tragic outcome was that now Cupid had even more blackmailing material in her arsenal.

“Jesus Christ, you’re evil,” Neil knew he still sounded wrecked.

There was no way of hiding that. Of making her forget this had just happened and the conclusions she could draw from it. Neil barely resisted the urge to smash his head into the window.

“Oh, so it would help,” as expected, Cupid sounded delighted by what had transpired. The cheeky smile he liked way too much was undoubtedly present on her face as she added, “Not so dully noted” may he rest in pieces, apparently, “When are you coming back?” the question sounded almost out of place.

Yet even in his muddled mind, Neil knew it was genuine. That she wanted to know. If that fact meant anything at all, he did not know. And he tried his hardest not to think about it too much.

“Why? You miss me?” ignoring the chorus of ‘awws’ behind his back, Neil allowed himself to ask.

Even if only for emotional validation. Because while she has hinted at it before, Neil was never tired of being reminded. The whole thing with her might have been hopeless, but it did not change how he worked. How his heart ticked and what beat it chose. Tragically, romanticism was tricky to get rid of. Neil experienced that first-hand.

“You know that I do,” Cupid did not mind humouring his whims as she offered a simple admission without a fight.

With all his predictability, Neil could not hold back the idiotic grin from making an appearance. Sure, it had no future, but that did not make him less eager to play along. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Famous last words and all. Probably.

“I should be back in a week. More or less,” that was the hope, anyway.

The few stray thoughts that had somehow escaped the web spun by Cupid, and her attention reminded him about the work still left to be done. Like the fucking pincer movement plan. With threebastards taunting him mercilessly. So much fun.

“Fab. I got you a great seat for the premiere, so… You know what to do,” the hopeful note in her voice was worth the future pain.

He had no doubts about it. The fact was that Neil was looking forward to the ballet. The hazy memories of seeing ‘Swan Lake’, aged six, hardly compared to the Royal Ballet company. It was a good enough reason to attend. The other excellent reason was Cupid herself, but that was best unsaid. And unthought. Somehow.

“Got you,” ignoring the ridiculous thoughts, Neil offered her a smile she could not see and a silent prayer cast into the heavens that he was not lying unknowingly.

“I know you do. You’re a good boy, Neil,” Cupid’s strike came with no warning.

Yet again, she dropped her tone a notch and whispered the damned two words with a breathy sigh. The metaphorical nail to the coffin this time was how she said his name, almost caressing the letters. And yes, this time it worked, too.

Neil had the mind to faceplant into the window and groan with frustration. The inescapable blush warmed up his cheeks as his body shivered. Some… particular parts of his physique also showed interest in what was happening, eternally oh so eager to betray his wish to stay unbothered.

“For fuck’s-” the choked curse got swallowed by the mightiest effort on his side as Neil took a steadying breath and asked, “Why?”

As if happy to punish him, Cupid laughed.

“Because it’s fun,” the unspoken duh made him both more annoyed and more bewitched by her, “I’ll let you work now, but…” as did the carrot dangled in front of his face like the sweetest of baits.

Always the idiot, Neil could not possibly ignore it.

“Yeah?” he could hear her take a deep breath as if steeling herself for a difficult admission.

“I’m glad we’ve met,” Cupid whispered the confession without as much as a pause between the words.

“Me too,” his reply got lost in the static as she hung up.

Letting out the breath he did not know he was holding, Neil lowered the phone onto the windowsill and stared at the city outside. Well then. The call would take a while to process; that was unquestionable.

“Aw, aren’t you two cute?” Ives’ teasing threw Neil out of that pleasantly fuzzy mind space with all the grace of an elephant.

He turned around with the glower at the ready. This time, he could not bite back the curse:

“Shut the fuck up,” on an afterthought, Neil added, “Please,” noticing the soldier open his mouth for a quip, he dropped his tone to a warning timbre. That called for a final caution, “Unless you want to start looking for a new physicist,” his glare slipped over the trio before Neil settled at the table and unfolded the blueprints without another word.

***

When that awaited text from Neil came, bearing the information that he was back in London and happy to meet you whenever you did not jump for joy. Definitely not. What you did do was grin and discuss the possible rendezvous immediately. When that Tuesday afternoon arrived, with the glory of a decent rehearsal and a good coffee in your paper cup, you happily bypassed the crowds at Green Park and skipped the steps down to the correct platform.

That twenty-minute walk to the station was a blessing, just as much as a curse. When Neil proposed the time you could meet on the train, you did not correct him about your location that day. Or that grabbing the Jubilee line would be entirely off the quickest route back home. You just accepted the time and place and ignored the voice at the back of your head reminding you that this was not how you usually behaved.

It could go fuck itself.

Once you settled on the platform, one glance at the watch told you the next train would be the right one. The strange giddiness sparked in your veins, but you blamed it on the three-week gap between the meetings. It was just that, nothing more. Obviously.

The autopilot carried you through the motions until you had boarded the carriage and came face to face with the cause of all this idiocy. Neil smiled, instantly clocking you before you had even placed both feet inside. It was impossible to keep your face neutral, returning the grin and manoeuvring around the commuters to sit next to him on the three plastic chairs facing the sliding doors.

Then, as if seized by insanity, you propelled your body forward with the arms coming up around Neil’s neck to embrace him tightly. His freeze took approximately twenty seconds to thaw as he returned the hug with equal strength. You could feel the warmth of his breath hitting the crook of your neck and making you fight back a shiver that would not do. Instead, you let yourself breathe him in, rest in the moment that was potentially a mistake. Still, you were not going to treat it like one. Not when the warmth of his hands seeped through the clothes as they rested on your waist.

When the lurch of the train reminded you of reality and all its flaws, you ruefully disentangled from Neil and met his wary gaze. His blue eyes scanned your face as if looking for clues towards the reasons for the madness you just allowed yourself. When that offered no answers, Neil broke the silence with a careful observation:

“I didn’t know that we’re doing hugs,” his impassive face offered no clues either, triggering a wave of uncertainty you had to smother.

Because what if you went too far? What if that was not what Neil wanted?

“We are now,” the confidence was missing from the statement, making you add a crucial question, “Is that okay?” you could hear the insecurity in your voice, betraying the worries.

They disappeared the moment Neil flashed you a smile, his hand lightly patting your knee as a complement to the simple reassurance:

“Sure is,” lowering his gaze to catch yours, Neil winked.

Thank fuck. It surely made life much easier. Or the plans you might or might have not made regarding him. Now that the crisis had passed, you shifted in the seat to find a more comfortable position and allowed yourself a selfish look, measuring him up as usual. The slight tan line revealed by the rolled-up sleeves confirmed what you did know about his disappearance. The minor tiredness in how he carried his body strengthened your guesses. The rest of him blinded you as always.

Especially the three buttons left undone, revealing a strip of his chest. And inspiring ungodly thoughts in your head. Ignoring that what could not be addressed. Especially not right now in a carriage full of people. You switched your attention to the other crucial topic. Everything was better than being arrested for public indecency. At least you did hope so.

“How was the trip?” you noted the shift in Neil’s posture.

How he strengthened in the seat, the mask back in place. Although his mystery had fallen into the background over the acceleration of your dynamic, it was still very much present. You had to figure him out. Had to crack the case. Even if it killed you.

For now, though, simply asking mundane questions had to be enough.

“Well… it was fine. The usual” the answer did not help much, however.

Neil looked as if he knew how enigmatic it sounded but could not do anything about it. Upon your questioning look, he only shrugged and offered no further details. This time, you could not let the moment pass without a comment. You rolled your eyes, a frustrated huff interrupting the silence with petulance:

“God, you couldn’t be any less mysterious if you tried,” although anger was not one of the present emotions, you knew Neil would understand the message as you glared at him without heat.

He winced as if admitting to the guilt you hinted at and turned to you with a more open expression on his face:

“Sorry, it’s uh… maybe one day,” Neil met your gaze meaningfully, making you keener to believe him.

You held his gaze for a beat, even if only to have an excuse to look into his eyes and see Neil without the veil of pretence. It was easy to hope one day he would tell you more. That there was one day, somewhere along the line, waiting for you. That whatever was happening would not burn to a cinder in two weeks and leave you bereft. As things like this tended to do.

“I’ll hold you to that,” before breaking the eye contact, you reached for his hand.

It was another insane reflex that was difficult to explain, even to yourself. Yet, still, Neil went willingly. His long fingers tangled with yours without resistance and allowed you to rest your joined palms between the seats, almost like a beacon to whoever was curious about your meeting. And you could see the nosy stares, the inquisitive grandmas eager to judge and label everything and everyone existing within their vicinity.

You used the warmth of your connected hands to anchor you in the present as Neil asked:

“How’s the imposter syndrome? Did it fuck off at last?” the softness in his eyes could undoubtedly be fatal.

As was the way he knew what to ask and hit the jackpot without even trying. Because, of course, the feeling of not being good enough did not disappear. Of course, you still got up every morning with the vague desire to approach the ballet director and tell her you are giving up. That you cannot do this. It almost seemed like Neil could sense your thoughts.

Which was both terrifying and appealing, if you were to be honest. It would make your job easier if he knew exactly what you were thinking. About him.

“I wish,” the suffering sigh was a cheap trick, but viable in your books, “I still think I’m going to embarrass myself, but well,” not willing to give up the comfortable weight of his hand in yours, you offered Neil a one-sided shrug “Can’t exactly capitulate now” the desperate edge to that sentence did not escape his attention.

Sure, you would not actually give up, but that did not mean you were not half-heartedly wishing it happened anyway. Ideally, in the form of someone else doing the job for you. Pathetic, innit?

Neil squeezed your hand, capturing your attention without needing to try at all. The frown was still present on your face, its force turning the corners of your mouth downwards. As always, Neil seemed to see through all that you were not saying. He met your gaze (which was a feat considering you were happy to look anywhere but at him) and spoke:

“I wouldn’t let you,” there was an edge to his voice, a steely resolve that told you the conversation was gaining another layer.

A different destination to the one you had expected at first. Although, with how your chats recently played out, it was to be anticipated. Probably.

Without giving yourself the time to overthink, you leaned closer to Neil and placed a hand on his thigh. You could see his eyes widen upon the move, the pupils blowing up in the quickest form of flattery a man could give you. Sharpening your smile to the perfectly saccharine variant, you delivered the prepared lines:

“Oh yeah?” his thigh muscles tensed underneath your hand as Neil’s mouth fell agape without him being fully in control of the reaction. It was adorable. And an ideally ripe ground to lay the final strike, “You’d force me? Have your way with me?” the sparks in his eyes were a pretty addition to the already gorgeous picture.

At that moment, you knew that you had missed this. No texting could ever replace the real thing. The back and forth with the arresting strength of his eye contact and the unpredictable suspense of what would come next. Like the sudden softening of Neil’s features and an unexpectedly tentative counter to your bold questions:

“If you’d let me,” he swallowed hard as if desperately trying to get rid of the thoughts in his head and simultaneously unable to shake them off.

As if ripping the thread connecting him to you and shortening it at an alarming rate was causing Neil physical pain. The revelation acted like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your palm. It was difficult to shrug it off as if it was nothing. It nagged and prodded until you could do nothing but stare dumbly at him, feeling every passing second like a wasted beat of time you would never get back.

Before you could get your shit together in any way, it was too late. Neil had already jumped to conclusions, as you worried he might. His brows furrowed as his teeth nibbled on the chapped bottom lip in a familiar nervous tic. Slowly, as if navigating a mined battlefield, he shifted in the seat, widening the space between you by a fraction. You noticed it anyway.

“You don’t mind that this sort of thing keeps happening?” the question was completed with a vague gesture, slashing the air between you awkwardly.

The inflexion offered no space for doubt. Neil concluded that you very much did mind. That somehow you were not an active and eager participant in the heavy flirting and mutual teasing. Neil was an idiot.

And you had to put that point across instantly.

“Why would I mind?” without thinking, you let your fingers repeatedly stroke his forearm as you leaned back into his orbit to confess what ought to have been obvious, “I mean every word I say to you. Including all that post-Watershed talk” it was delightful to see your favourite smile disrupt his frown.

At the same time, it was nice to have it out in the open, no longer unsaid and implied. Because you did mean it. And you did want it. Whatever Neil would offer, be it a friendship or more. The choice was his.

You could pinpoint when the weight lifted off his shoulders and let him breathe deeper. You stared as Neil absorbed and processed the information, his blue eyes showing a spectrum of emotions. Some were unreadable. Other more obvious, like the devilish sparks that always guaranteed the conversation would take a curious turn. Or the cautious hope, making him look so much younger and innocent. Your unoccupied hand itched with the desire to brush his golden locks from his forehead, so you tightened it into a fist hidden in the coat pocket.

Just like you hid everything that had no place in your life.

At the periphery of your attention, you could register the called stations. Or the fact that your stop was mercilessly getting closer. Only one question could make you forget the reality altogether:

“So, what would you do if I kissed you?” when Neil asked, you were glad you had never forced yourself to look away from him.

That hesitant hope was still there, lightening up his eyes. You let it pull you in, as there was no need to search your heart for an answer. It was fair to assume Neil knew that, too. The question was only a preliminary. But it was still admirable he asked. People rarely did.

You shrugged, highlighting the evident conclusion he hopefully had already reached. It would have been easy to close the gap and let that be the answer. Too easy. It was enough that you could hardly ever look away from him, constantly drawn and arrested by his eyes.

Forcing yourself to break the spell, you met his gaze and offered him an impassive smile. If only to keep up the façade for a little longer.

“There’s only one way to find out, Neil,” you hoped that was enough, that he would understand the ball was back in his court to do as he pleased.

You also hoped Neil came to the right solution. Sadly, that did not seem to come to be just yet. One glance outside the window alarmed you about the surroundings and that you were arriving at your station. The frown twisted your mouth downwards as you risked a glance at Neil. The disappointment in his eyes told you he already caught up.

Two choices were waiting at your disposal. You could either stay, miss your stop to find out what would happen next. Or you could choose cowardice and leave the carriage, delaying the fateful moment a little longer. Definitely not forever.

It was hard to say why you chose the second option. Why you stood up without as much as a look at Neil and feigned a cheery farewell that felt foreign on your tongue. Later, you were keen to pretend it was just the influence of the moment. A sudden spell of insanity.

“Oops, that’s me. See you soon,” it was a miracle that you did not trip in the haste to get out.

You barely registered the surroundings as you bolted towards the sliding door and stepped onto the platform, missing the gap by mere millimetres. It was pure luck that you did not walk into any poor soul as you attempted to get away from the train as fast as possible.

You did not get the time to flee. All because you did not consider one thing – Neil had a choice, too.

When you felt a hand take yours and pull you back, there was that split second of panic. Your disoriented mind rapidly flicked through at least ten different disastrous scenarios, starting at a random appearance of Liam and ending at a violent assault you were about to be subjected to. Only then, at the very end, your brain pushed forward another observation. There was something familiar about that handhold.

Before you had a second to follow that thought, the interrupter pulled at your hand, making you whirl around to face them. Your widened gaze fell upon the undone tortoiseshell shirt buttons and wandered up the neck to land on Neil’s blue eyes, patiently staring back at you. It took you another second to understand what happened. And another one to begin processing what it could mean. Why he did it.

Without being aware of the movement of your body, you stepped closer to Neil, tightening the bubble you both had created in the middle of the platform. People bypassed you as they rushed to the train with the beeping doors hastening their steps. But that hardly mattered. It was just white noise. Unimportant and ignorable.

Unlike Neil, who closed the gap between your bodies to mere millimetres, and wordlessly repeated the question from before. The answer did not change. You offered him a tiny nod, not feeling the need to speak. The surrealism of the moment could not be labelled anyhow.

From the second you had tasted Neil’s lips, you knew it would not be something you could forget. That the feel of him would burn into the cortex of your brain and stay there to haunt you for eternity. You were right.

Your eyes snapped shut as soon as he closed the distance and covered your mouth with his in a soft kiss. His gentle and pliant lips caressed yours attentively without effort, making you cling even closer to him. Your arms came around Neil’s neck as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. It took another second, a blissful beat of existence, to make you kiss him back. Just as carefully. Just like you never kissed anyone before.

Neil’s relief came through in a short gasp, let out into your opening mouth, and the warm weight of his palms came up to rest on your waist beneath the open coat. Following the logic you did not understand, you tilted your head and allowed his prying tongue to lick into your mouth. The liquid heat traversed your veins, warming up your skin as Neil took his time to map out the inside of your mouth. Suddenly, the instant connection you felt made sense. Things clicked into place as you breathed the taste of him and breathed out the uncertainty. It felt right. Good. Unforgettable, even.

It felt like no first kisses and endless one-night stands ever did. And that made no sense.

Soon, that first kiss evolved into another and then the next. The platform, the people and the noise faded into the background as you swapped kisses, barely interrupted by quiet groans and swallowed gasps. On its own accord, your hand ventured up to tangle in his hair, grabbing a fistful of the golden locks and tugging in time with a particularly hungry nip taken out of Neil’s bottom lip. The reward of a barely stifled moan was more than worth it.

As was how Neil held you close and returned your kisses with equal zeal. He matched your energy and pushed you further until the remaining part of your conscience worried about being arrested for public indecency.

When the burn of your lungs excelled that of your soul, you placed a palm over the centre of his chest and pushed Neil back. Just a fraction. Just to catch your breath. His answering whine felt like another spark of pride, making your eyes glow with self-satisfaction. That was better than any other form of gratification you could think of.

When you finally forced yourself to blink your eyes open and look at Neil, you were met with kiss-bruised lips and darkened blue eyes, showing nothing else but hunger. At least ten increasingly ridiculous religious metaphors battled for leadership in your mind, but you pushed them all aside. The most accurate comment went to two simple words, pushed forward by the strength of your soul’s crudeness. Fucking hell. In the best of meanings, that is.

Following deeply rooted instincts, your tongue darted out to thoroughly trace the expanse of your bottom lip. And get remains of his taste, that you had already started missing. As far as kisses had gone, this one was pretty damn spectacular.

Neil seemed frozen, his eyes fixed on your mouth as if that was the only thing he could do. Admittedly, it was adorable. Yet, still, you decided to break the spell, the only way you could think of:

“I think your train has left,” you glanced over his shoulder, noting the expectedly empty platform.

Only now, when the haze of the kiss (or rather a whole make-out session) had begun to lift, you could understand what had transpired. And that Neil was keen to delay his return home for the price of a kiss. Or for the hope of a kiss, for clearly, he did not think he would get that far. Idiot.

You could see it now, back on his face. The slight disorientation and confusion suggested Neil could barely believe that what just happened was real. He blinked twice, then again, as if forcing himself to wake up and met your gaze with wide eyes. Without thinking, you allowed the hand you had pressed flat to his chest to venture up, stopping when your fingers started grazing over his neck. That was the trigger Neil needed to return to reality. He seized your adventurous fingers in a loose hold and placed your joined hands back over his heart. You could feel it racing.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” Neil offered you a half-smile, the uncertainty shining through the tentative joy in his eyes.

It was not something you were used to. Usually, after a kiss like that (never even preceded with a question, because who the fuck still asked for kisses?), you only ever got smugness. And an attempt at a smooth transition to sex, which did or did not succeed, depending on the participating party). Never uncertainty. Never shyness. Never contentment with what happened without pushing you for more.

You didn’t know what to do with any of it.

“No regrets?” the question was also one that you never asked before.

Not after something as trivial as a first kiss. But then, nothing was the way it usually went with Neil. That much was quite clear.

“Not really. You?” as if sensing your growing uncertainty, Neil did not hesitate before answering the question.

He squeezed your fingers, still wrapped in his palm and met your gaze with something almost resembling confidence. Somehow, that was enough. You took a fortifying breath to gather courage and discard the doubts. There would be more than enough time to deal with them later. Hopefully.

For now, there were other things to do and say. Like answering Neil’s question and reclaiming the conversation from its sombre paths. Especially since no cell in your body regretted the kiss. Or any other thing you had ever said or hinted at to him. It is just that somehow, somewhere along the line, your normal confidence had been wiped off the table. And it felt like it was never to be seen again. Not like before.

You hoped to ignore that bit of revelation, too.

“Nope. I’d offer a coffee at mine, but… I think some things need a better build-up,” you hoped the chaos in your head was not easily seen as you dropped the line with an attempt at the usual smoothness and met Neil’s eyes with remaining poise.

You meant that, too. A part of you, the same that had difficulties ending the kiss, wanted to continue it wherever it may lead you. You were quite sure you knew where it was going. And you certainly wanted that. But, at the same time, rushing into it seemed… wrong. As if the fact that you also wanted to be friends with Neil needed a little more respect. A little more time.

You could tell he understood from the way Neil nodded, his eyes still blown out by the darkened pupils.

“Agreed,” he shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it before glancing at the timing screen over your heads. Whatever the impact those 7 minutes of waiting had, the next thing Neil did was to heave a sigh and set his weary eyes on you, “Actually, I might walk back home. Should probably clear my head,” a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

Without overthinking the act, you seized his hand and started for the stairs. Just because you were not yet taking him home did not mean you could not drag out the goodbye. Right?

Right.

***

Although the kiss was not forgotten and only added to the general restlessness, you never mentioned it again. It was another layer added to the sprinkled, complex mess that was your relationship. A tiered cake that had so many flavours it was impossible to label it using a concise, less than five-word description. It just did not get discussed.

That was both a blessing and a curse, considering that with mere days left till the public Don Quixote premiere you could barely handle one type of stress and uncertainty. Let alone two. The reality check deadline crept up on you without warning, catching you pacing the flat for over an hour the evening before the official pre-premiere. The event always happened at least a night before the opening soiree and was reserved for the press, Royal Ballet directory and special guests of honour. It also meant that every detail of the performance had to be up to par if one wanted to continue advancing the career in the company. Which you did want. Desperately. It was just bloody unfortunate that the usual insanity of anxiety now was interlaced with something else.

Something that made you stop the pacing and pick up the phone only to open the messages and stare at the text conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours, and considering the 9 pm on the clock, you had a fair right to believe that he might be asleep. Maybe. But that could hardly deter the part of your brain that tended to get ahead of itself. Especially fuelled by stress and anxiety.

Without letting yourself falter, you typed the question:

/ 🏹, 9:04 pm/ Are you still up?

Luckily, you only had to hold your breath for an answer (or a lack of it) for less than 5 minutes. For that, your lungs were eternally thankful.

/✝️, 9:08 pm/ Is this the moment you ask me for dick pics?

A ridiculous guffaw broke the silence of your flat, along with that necessary intake of oxygen. Conversations like those still happened daily and only increased the want you could not get rid of if you tried.

And you didn’t try. There was no point to it.

/ 🏹, 9:09 pm/ Nah. Not yet.

You were having fun, chatting the shit on the daily with someone who seemed more than eager to keep the ball going. That was partially why you reached out on a whim, desperate to get out of the flat even for a little while. After all, asking Neil offered a fifty-fifty chance of an entertaining evening. All other intentions did not have to be disclosed. Even in your mind.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ That’s a relief.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ How can I be of service, my lady?

/ 🏹, 9:11 pm/ You’ve no idea, babe.

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ I was thinking of going to the dance studio, that’s open till midnight. Do you want to come?

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ You’ve said you wanted to see me dance so…

After sending the third message, you put down the phone and exhaled. That nervousness residing in your bones was new. It was almost as if it mattered what Neil’s answer would be. As if you cared whether he would say yes to the tentative proposition. None of that had ever happened before.

The urge to faceplant into the pillow was derailed by the buzz of an incoming message. With embarrassing speed of reaction, you read the texts:

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ Happily.

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ When and where do we meet?

You grinned. As you copied and pasted the location pin into the message, you could already feel a different type of nervousness enter your system. It was time for Neil to see you dance. You would also see him for the first time since the kiss. It was high time someone covered this topic on wikiHow. Or, at least, you thought so.

***

Although the Royal Ballet had more than good enough facilities at the Covent Garden building, the company could also use a studio by the Southwark Underground Station whenever you felt like it. Conveniently, that alternative place was open till midnight on weeknights, offering a one-in-a-million chance to run over the choreography for a billion times more before the pre-premiere. Without an audience of your fellow ballet dancers and their critical eyes, at that.

The other perk to the external studio was that nothing stopped you from bringing someone from the outside along. Nothing except for maybe the deeply rooted fear of showing Neil what you could do. Or couldn’t do.

That fear had not left through the Uber drive from your flat, growing in force from the moment you set your eyes upon Neil waiting outside the studio with a smile on his face. You exchanged the usual niceties, bypassing the awkward tint to the interaction with an avoided hug and nonsensical commentary from your side.

The nerves seemed to reach the peak as you left Neil in the main ballet studio room, the space lit up sparsely to maintain the strangely surreal atmosphere of those late autumn nights in London when nothing seems to be tangible and real. Having left the house in a pre-planned rehearsal outfit, you only took off the unnecessary layers, leaving you in a simple bodice and a wrap mid-thigh skirt and pulled on the woollen leg warmers to keep the chill at bay.

Luckily for your racing heart, the ritual of putting on and lacing up the pointe shoes always did its magic, allowing you to centre yourself and take a couple of deep breaths. Until there was nothing left but to march out of the changing room and connect your phone to the speaker, the right track ready for you to press play.

But before you could go that far, you made the mistake of locating Neil in the room. He had settled on the floor opposite you, his back pressed to the mirror-covered walls of the studio. He stared as you entered the invisible stage and offered you an encouraging smile. A slow, gentle warm-up was a valid opportunity to falter. A necessary step you had to take while also admitting that it was convenient. Although, Neil’s attentive gaze following your every move was much less convenient.

Once you had run out of all other options, you started the music, put down the phone and took up position. Desperate to rehearse as much as possible, you chose to go through the entire dream sequence at the end of Act 2. As always, the Minkus score did its magic, helping you settle into the movement and almost forget about everything else.

You followed the steps with practised ease, hearing the dull thud of pointe shoes hitting the hardwood floors with each landing between the orchestral notes. When the cue to finish was near you were almost out of breath. The pearls of sweat clung to your temples as the sweetness of exertion burned through your muscles and tendons. When those final notes rang off in the quiet studio, you held the finishing pose and waited for the music to end. The resulting silence was deafening.

Slowly, as if pained to do it, you opened your eyes. Neil was right where you had left him; his gaze seemingly never trailed away. But the exact look on his face was different. Instead of the ease and unbothered nonchalance he tried to emit earlier, Neil was now speechless. Dazed. His mouth was still agape, and he had to remind himself to close it before swallowing hard. You tried your hardest not to let that get into your head. You failed.

“So… what do you think?” unable to keep quiet for much longer, you released the question into the ether with a permanent frown and a minimal level of conviction.

It seemed to be what Neil needed to wake up from the stupor. He shifted, pulled up his knees to his chin and eyed you with a bright gaze. The desire to look away rose with every minute, but you tried to endure it. Somehow.

“You’re brilliant. Do you know that?” the matter-of-fact tone threw you off kilter, bringing out an automatic (albeit manic) grin from its hiding back onto your face.

Neil mirrored the expression instantly, only widening your smile in the process. Feeling the need to move again, you flexed your calves, completing a set of rapid changements. Only once that was done you could attempt to answer the question.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, unwilling to stray onto that sort of honest territory just yet, “It doesn’t hurt to hear it again, though,” unable to ignore that one voice at the back of your head that had not been convinced, you asked, “Was it actually… good?” the emphasis on the word was automatic.

You could tell Neil saw right through your faux nonchalance as he smiled, a different type of fondness shining in his eyes. That, too, was best left alone for now. The observation was shelved among others of its kind in the darkest cavern of your brain. Ideally left alone for good, never to be touched or thought of again. Just in case.

Neil’s gaze never strayed from yours as he offered you an answer without a hint of exasperation:

“As far as my virgin eyes could tell, it was perfect,” the corner of his mouth rose in the makings of a familiar smirk.

It eradicated any illusions that he did not know what he was saying. Or the effect the sentence would have. You closed your eyes against the sight, hopelessly willing the inconvenient feelings to disappear.

By now, it was painfully clear that Neil could be a bastard when he wanted to. It was just another thing that you liked about him. Perhaps too much.

For a second, you debated following the easy way out he had offered. It would have been effortless to take up the tone and turn the conversation into yet another pleasant back-and-forth that could potentially lead you past the talking. Past that one kiss, that had lowkey driven you insane with the promise of potential.

But the doubts were still there. They still clouded your mind like a flock of hungry birds of prey hunting for a bite of flesh. And Neil was the only person you could talk to and know he would listen. That he would care. For some reason, it was a crucial thing to share. An important topic to raise. Here and now.

“Allow me to ignore that double entendre potential for a second,” your apologetic frown was accepted with a subtle nod and meaningful glance.

“You’re excused, Cupid,” Neil grinned, evidently taking pleasure from the nickname you became fond of.

Especially because it was him, who bestowed it on you.

“Thank you,” shaking off the sudden rush of affection, you completed the gratitude with a cheeky addition, returning Neil’s smirk, “Sir,” only once noted his answering blush, it was safe to delve into what you really wanted to tell him. You took a deep breath, completing half a pirouette to face the mirrors on the wall and asked, “Do you ever feel like you’re just constantly pretending? Like the whole ‘fake it till you make it’ deal, except you never stop faking it?” training your gaze on the hardwood floors, you stared at the tips of your pointe shoes.

The worn-out, ragged edges caught your attention for a split second. You took a mental note to break in the brand-new pair and prepare them for tomorrow’s show. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Neil’s reflection. You could feel him staring, the intense gazing boring holes in the back of your head. But not even that could make you turn and face him.

“Pretty much every day,” Neil’s reply made you look up, meeting his eyes in the reflection. That was not an answer you had expected, “I’ve found that sometimes, if you’re lucky, all that pretending can fool the brain, too,” he signed off the addition with another reassuring smile.

Still, the scepticism reigned free as an unbidden scoff tore from your throat, forcing you to swallow down the sudden desire to retreat from the conversation. Years of practice did not seem to share Neil’s thesis. Things never got easier. You doubted they ever would.

“I’d hope so. Except that, I’m not sure I am that lucky,” that was a given, an undeniable fact of life like the laws of physics or the ignorance of the Tories. Unchangeable. The familiar wave of frustration threatened to pull you down as you allowed the insecurities to speak their part,“I may appear as a fucking cool cat, confident and all, but… I’m not,” hearing the broken note in your voice, you swallowed hard, unable to look at Neil anymore. There was only one final thing to add, “And I wish I could be,”

There. The curtain has fallen, revealing the truth underneath. Now, it was clear Neil had no illusions left about you. No reason to think of you highly. Somehow, you felt lighter. Sure, still unable to meet his gaze, even in the reflection, but it was better that way. Now, when you did disappoint him somewhere along the line, for whatever reason, it would be much less surprising.

You had no doubts whether that moment of disappointment would happen. It always did.

“You have every right to be. Because you are” when Neil spoke, at first, you did not register it. His words flew right over your head before being caught by your heart, desperate to find anything to hold on to. Only then did you hear what he said. You looked up in time to see the remains of the fading blush on his cheeks, “If that even makes sense,” he shook his head slightly as if scolding himself over the awkward reassurance and stood up. The tense shoulders betrayed the lightness he still tried to emit, “Trust me when I say I feel useless and stupid every minute of every day,” the weariness in his voice clashed with the disbelief you felt when hearing what he said.

That made no sense. The turmoil made you turn around in a half-pirouette and face Neil with wide eyes and mouth agape. Your brain was experiencing severe computing issues, the smoke almost sizzling out through your open lips.

He was none of those things. You barely resisted the urge to close the miles between you and shake him by the shoulders, all the while screaming at him to stop saying such bullshit. You did not do any of those things.

“But you’re… you,” instead, you gestured vaguely towards him, armed with words that were not enough.

No words seemed to be apt to describe him. Neil was just… impossible. Ineffable in his wonderfulness. Much better than anyone you had ever known. But that was something you could not say. Not now.

“In my books, that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Neil glanced at you with tired eyes, kicking around at nothing as he slid across the parquet in his socks.

When you entered the studio, he started unlacing his shoes before you could protest. Said something about not wanting the cleaner to have more work. The comment made you smile too brightly before you excused yourself into the changing room and hid your face in the palms of your hands. That state didn’t seem to have passed.

In an effort not to do anything stupid, you backed away till you could feel the barre against your back. Only then you met his searching gaze and made sure to show Neil the extent of earnestness on your face:

“It is. I’ve never met anyone like you, Neil,” the admission was met with a surprised double-take, so you decided to soften the tone with a stupid addition, “The hottest priest in London and whatnot,” you did mean that one, too.

Neil’s huff of laughter felt like a dodged bullet.

“Funny,” the bright sparks in his eyes confirmed the praise with doubled force, making you turn back towards the mirror to avoid being blinded by the strength of his affection. That stuff could be dangerous, “You’re the hottest ballerina in London, so we’re even,” once you registered Neil’s words, the silky tone of his voice that had not been there just a second ago, you knew that trouble was coming.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him close the gap. The warmth settled in your cheeks as you felt the comfortable heat spread around your body. That pleasant anticipation ignited in your bones with every step Neil took. Somewhere, at the edges of reason and logic, you knew you still had a choice. You knew that whatever he had envisioned in his mind, could easily be stopped with one word from your side. What was the problem?

Mainly that you didn’t want him to stop. Did not want to cut short the moment slowly blooming into something crucial. You could feel it buzz beneath your skin as Neil took the final steps towards you and leaned in. His hands came to rest upon the barre, millimetres from yours. Not quite touching but enough so you could not ignore his presence. You could feel the heat from his body as Neil pressed his chest to your back and whispered into your ear:

“A cool cat,” in normal circumstances, the call-back to your rant would have made you laugh.

But those weren’t normal circumstances. Not with Neil’s proximity, his hands slowly tracing invisible lines up your arms. You could feel his breath on the nape of your neck, creating goosebumps effortlessly. And the thing was – this wasn’t anything new. It was far from the first time someone had done this. Far from the first time you had been tempted by someone who desired you. But it was the first time they seemed to take their time for it.

Your head felt dizzy with the revelation as Neil’s fingers lightly brushed the neckline of your bodice and journeyed down. It was a first in the fact that he did not even try touching your breasts, instead respectfully settling over your ribs and tapping a vague rhythm over your heated skin. Without searching your heart, you knew that you did not mind it. Not one bit.

You covered one of his palms with yours, firmly pressing it against your waist and raised your head to seek Neil’s gaze. He was already looking back at you, the blue eyes of his eyes dark and consumed with something you wanted to call hunger. The same feeling could be easily found on your face.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you frowned at the hoarseness of your voice and the breathless tint to the question.

For the first time, it was impossible to fake your reaction. Impossible to pretend you were not affected. Neil’s answering smile, full of confidence and mischief, made that discovery seem fine. Not troubling at all.

“Is it working?” the warmth in his eyes made you feel safe, not threatened by the potential of what could happen.

Not viable to the pains of consequences. That seemed enough.

Enough to make you gently tug at his hand, asking for the freedom of movement to turn around and face him. Only then, with Neil’s curious gaze beaming down on you like a desirable spotlight, you placed his palm back on your waist and offered an honest reply:

“I think you already know,” as proof, you picked up his other hand and guided it to press against your chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat.

The wolfish grin you received in return was worth any leftover sense of shame and embarrassment. Neil leaned in, and just as you were about to close your eyes, awaiting another life-changing kiss, he left a promising peck on the edge of your jaw. On its own accord, your hand tightened over the wooden railing as you exposed your throat for his use.

Neil wasted no time leaving a trail of kisses down the slope of your neck, only just being careful enough not to leave marks. Each kiss felt like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your neck, blazing hot and impossible to shake off. You closed your eyes, letting the sense take in the sensation of his tender care. Of the contrasting burn of stubble, scratching at your skin with a delicious sting.

Every kiss took time, only then to be sealed with a lick of his tongue, eliciting your quiet gasps and barely kept in groans of pleasure. The wave of insanity rose, threatening to take over your brain, save for one consistent thought. One revelation.

No one had cared this much before.

Letting go of his hand, you tangled your fingers in his golden strands, lightly tugging to gain his attention. The answering groan was sure to enter the library of sounds and images you liked to relieve in private. But before you could attempt to formulate the desire painted across your face, the door to the studio creaked, disrupting the silence.

You gasped in shock as Neil took half a step back, warily eyeing the doorway. A thousand curses lodged themselves in your throat as a silhouette of an older man, armed with a bucket and a mop, peered inside the room with a scowl. Fucking Rich, the Janitor.

The older man scanned you both from head to toe and sighed.

“It’s closing time, kids. Go home,” his gravelly voice acted like the much-needed bucket of cold water.

As he turned back towards the darkness of the corridor, you met Neil’s eyes. The depths of exasperation visible there told you this business was far from over. You certainly hoped so.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: death, violence, guns, implied abuse references, trafficking references, abduction, past attempted murder, murder, addiction

AO3 link

Chapter 34 - Jesper

“Jeluna,” Inej repeated, frowning, “It doesn’t ring a bell,”

Nina was standing in front of the closed door to Inej’s room, her hair - usually always worn loose so it fell just over her shoulders - tightly plaited and her favoured outfit of dark, deep pocketed trousers and some brightly coloured jumper or other replaced by a neatly pressed, creamy white blouse and a skirt that fell past her knees over long white stockings, as well as a pair of shiny black boots instead of her beaten up brown leather ones. It was distracting Jesper - it wasn’t that it didn’t look nice, Nina seemed to have the ability to pull off just about anything she wore, but it just made her look not quite like herself. She wasn’t comfortable, he didn’t think, in the tight cuffs of the button down or the almost schoolchild-esque pleats of the skirt. She looked like one of the women in the University or Zelvar Districts, working front desks or accounts or correspondence. And when Jesper had thought that, he realised what it was that he actually thought, why he felt like something wasn’t quite right. Nina looked disturbingly Kerch. 

“Does she have a stage name?” he asked, “Maybe it would be easier to hear word of her that way,”

“Not that I’ve heard of,” Nina shrugged, “But she’s not been reported missing. I’ve not heard a word about it, even at the White Rose,”

“She won’t be,” said Inej, shuffling between her pillows to readjust herself, “Not until it’s already too late,”

“Tara and Amethyst-”

“The Leopard has been the most popular attraction at the Menagerie for months,” Inej shook her head, “And Amethyst was at the Sweet Shoppe for longer than anyone. I’ve heard rumours that Rollins took a liking to her; she was absent once before, a few years back, so I heard. Popularly believed he took her out of the city,”

Jesper frowned - he could bring an image of the girl to mind himself, but the missing descriptions had described her as in her early twenties. Twenty three, Kaz had said. 

“People noticed they were gone,” continued Inej, “Will anyone notice Jeluna?”

You know a girl from West Stave died in a similar pattern last month? From a smaller house, didn’t get much notice. 

“How old is she?”

Nina shrugged. 

“I only saw her once or twice; our age, a touch younger? Not old,”

Inej murmured something in Suli, and Jesper saw Nina glance away. He didn’t ask what she’d said. Even though it was probably just a prayer, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. A minute passed. 

“One other thing,” Nina was looking at him now, not Inej, “They want me back at the Van Eck house tonight,”

Jesper felt his shoulders stiffen involuntarily. He hadn’t seen Wylan in almost two weeks, the last he’d heard of the kid being the information Roeder gave Inej and she, in turn, passed on to Jesper the other day. Wylan was at a boarding house a short way South of here, he’d got a job at a tannery in the Warehouse District, and no-one ever saw him anywhere else. Jesper drummed his fingers against his knee, finding dissatisfaction at the attempt to lay against his guns and finding the sad little pistols sitting in his belt. He didn’t want to ask Kaz for his revolvers back, but he knew he’d crack before Kaz did and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Maybe he should just stop bothering. He needed a drink. 

“What does he want?”

Nina shrugged, playing with the end of one of her plaits. 

“I don’t know. Are you on shift tonight?”

Nope. 

“I’m at the Crow Club, but I might be able to slip out for a while - what time?”

“Ten bells. I don’t know how long it’ll be though, I could talk to Kaz…”

Jesper tightened his hand briefly in and out of a fist. 

“No, it’s fine. I can go with you,”

He felt Inej’s eyes on him and rolled his shoulders, trying not to meet her gaze. 

“Do you think he knows Wylan’s alive?” she asked into the growing silence.

Growing silence amongst the three of them, anyway; the rowdy shouts and cheers and arguments of the Slat were of course still leaking through the walls and floor. Jesper was pretty sure he’d just heard Pim’s voice next door, not long after Anika’s words had drifted through the air. 

“He must do,” said Nina, “Or at least suspect, surely it was reported back to him that he jumped into the canal and they couldn’t find him?”

“It’s a miracle he made it back out again,” Inej shook her head, “Those waters are dangerous enough for people who can see where they’re going; I don’t think it would be unreasonable for Van Eck to assume he drowned out there,”

She had a point. Jesper still wasn’t sure how Wylan had managed it; how far he’d had to swim, how long he had been stuck out there, how he’d made his way back to dry land. He hadn’t shared the full story in the short time they had together before Jesper went and fucked everything up, but the bruises on his neck had been telling enough. 

“You Tailored Wylan last time, right?”

Nina nodded. 

“It’s probably just Tailoring again; new young wives don’t stay young and pretty forever,”

“She’s about twenty,” said Nina. 

“So two years too old,” Inej murmured, “I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s all it is, you know. But stay wary, be sensible. You don’t know what he’s capable of,”

“I think we know exactly what he’s capable of, Inej,” Nina shook her head, “That might be half the problem,”

A moment dipped back into quiet as it rolled by, before Jesper ventured:

“Should we tell Kaz? About Jeluna?”

“I don’t know,” Nina hesitated, “Maybe. What are the chances he can do anything?”

“What are the chances he can do something but won’t bother?”

No-one answered Inej’s quiet question. 

Jesper watched Nina fidget with her sleeve for a minute before anyone said anything else. She glanced at her watch. 

“I’d better go,” she said, “I’m on my way to the courthouse, I just wanted to update you first - and check in on your leg, Inej,”

So that was why she was dressed like this. Jesper searched briefly through the few things he knew about Nina’s battle with the slow-but-surely-violent killer that was the Kerch legal system; he couldn’t remember her boy’s name, a Fjerdan, a year older than Nina - an ex-Drüskelle in on what she claimed were false charges. He couldn’t help but question what possible charges a Drüskelle couldn’t be considered guilty for, but he bit his tongue. For the sake of avoiding a pointless argument, for the sake of letting Nina just live her life, and for the sake of not being an idiot who gave himself away. 

“Good luck,” Inej smiled softly. 

“I’ll need it,” Nina half laughed, “If it’s the same judge I met last time you’d best pray for my restraint not to burst his heart in two,”

“Nina,”

“I’m joking,” she promised her, then with a wink at Jesper: “Violence only if absolutely necessary,”

*

It was definitely a strange feeling, loitering around the Geldstraat late at night, waiting for Nina to re-emerge. Jesper kept himself in the shadows near a side street, hoping it was late enough and he was out of view enough that none of the fine citizens of the area would pick up on his very clearly out of place appearance. Nina was actually quite a lot quicker than he’d expected her to be, but it still felt like a long time standing around; alone, somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, with nothing to do. He fidgeted with his sad little pistols. He was itching for a hand of cards. He checked his watch. Nina had been gone for about twenty minutes. Jesper needed to pull himself together. 

He studied the front of the Van Eck mansion opposite him in the dark. Flowers grew up the trellises either side of the front door, but the night was too thick to be able to make out what type of plant they were from this distance, and two potted trees stood sentinel, guarding either side of the gate. There were no candles burning in any of the front windows except the one farthest to the right - surely not the master bedroom from this position, Jesper expected that would look over the gardens, but perhaps someone’s guest room? Wylan had no siblings - yet - so other than a guest Jesper wasn’t sure who could be in there at this hour, not unless the servants’ cleaning rotas went on well into the night. Maybe they did. 

He wondered which window was supposed to be Wylan’s - or if that would be round the side or back of the house. That might make more sense, to have a nicer view of the fancy gardens, the private dock, the picturesque canal. It was just about the only canal in the city you could describe as picturesque, but once you were here looking at it that didn’t seem to bother you anymore. Even if you knew what the rest of the city looked like, even if you’d spent your time here wading through its slums, you could stand here and look at the canal, and you could think that it was pretty. It was pretty enough that, even for a very brief moment, you didn’t care about the rest of it anymore. That was how it got you. 

Yes, he thought, Wylan’s window was probably round the side of the house. Then: Why the fuck do you care? 

Too many answers came unbidden, and Jesper tried to stamp them out. He checked his watch again. Not even five more minutes had passed. 

When Nina did return, only about ten minutes after that, it was with a furious march in her step and fire burning in her cheeks. Her hair was still in its tight plaits, though a few strands had come loose, and the sour mood she’d been in after the courthouse had clearly only worsened. She yanked off her fake kefta as soon as she reached Jesper, shoving it over her arm to carry and shaking out the neckline of the blouse she was wearing beneath as though she’d overheated. He opened his mouth but she barely seemed to notice she was there, and kept walking without a word so he was forced to hurry after her.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” she snapped, and just kept striding on. 

Jesper followed. The Geldstraat shrank behind him, continuing to shimmer in the distance, and as they made their way back to the Barrel and parted ways to West and East Stave, Jesper felt strangely discomforted by the knowledge that it was still behind them, shimmering prettily on in the dark. Picturesque. 

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 66. brb x oc

a/n: god im so single

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: fluff JESUS CHRIST

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/

25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40/41/42/43/44

45/46/47/48/49/50/51/52/53/54/55/56/57/58/59/60/61/62/63/64

/65

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-

“Nicole.”  She calls sweetly, heart hurting when she sees her daughter reaching for the now dark monitor, tapping it with her small fingers in hopes it’d bring her father back, “Daddy is working now, he can’t show up.”

Nicole just taps the screen harder, letting out an annoyed cry because where was her father? He was there seconds ago! “Honey,” Beatrice grabs Nicole’s hands, her little face going red with tears bubbling in her eyes, “Oh sweetie,I know,I know.” She kisses her daughter’s cheeks, her own eyes stinging because of the gift Rooster sent her and Nicole’s reaction, “I know you miss him, I miss him too..but just a few more days,okay?”

Nicole whimpers, her mouth opening in a gentle cry that only hurts Beatrice even more, standing up from the chair to bounce her daughter around a bit in hopes she’d calm down. Beatrice sighs against her daughter’s hair, her gentle hiccuping slowing down until there was just a quiet whimper coming out of her, “I know,honey.” Bea says, “I know.”

It broke her heart and she was so happy that Rooster hadn’t seen her reaction, she knew if he did he’d just blame himself. And as long as she calmed Nicole down, everything would be fine. The dogs surrounded her when they heard Nicole’s cries, huffing and barking quietly in hopes to calm the little girl just like her mother was doing, Jolene even stood on her hind legs to check on the baby by sniffing her hair and the ticklish sensation made Nicole laugh.

“Oh, thank God.” Beatrice whispers, kissing her daughter’s head when she got into a giggling fit, “You are going to be okay, honey, daddy will be back soon.”

Beatrice rocked the three months old back and forth until she saw Nicole’s bright green eyes disappear behind her eyelids as she fell asleep in her arms. Her soft cheek pressed against her mother’s bicep, little chest rising and falling as the exhaustion from crying and laughing finally took over. 

Beatrice leans down to kiss her head again, slowly walking away from the kitchen - to not wake her up - humming a lullaby to keep Nicole’s eyes closed as she took her to the nursery, checking every now and again to see if she was okay and still in a deep slumber. And she was.

As she places Nikki in her crib,Beatrice just folds her arms on the top rail and places her chin on top, “I miss him too,Birdie.” she whispers, seeing Nicole is just peacefully asleep now, “I miss him…terribly and I know he misses us too.” she didn’t want to keep thinking about it, so she pushed herself away from the crib, turning around to face Eleanor and Jack, “You two, keep an eye on Nikki, okay?”

The twins just trotted inside like they always did, lying in front of her crib as Beatrice walked out, “Jojo, you come with me.” she says, petting the pittie between the ears. Jolene followed Beatrice back downstairs, where the flowers and the gifts were waiting for her in the kitchen.

Beatrice huffs out a sigh, propping her hands on her hips as she smiles, “...he’s unbelievable.” she says, grabbing the envelope she kept it aside for later, “And unreal…and amazing…and just so funny and sweet…ugh,I miss him so much Jojo.”

Jolene just pressed her huge head on the outer side of Bea’s thigh comfortingly, making the brunette smile down at her “I’m okay,Jojo…just…in love I guess…hah,anyway, let me clean this up.” she says, picking the huge bouquet of red roses “I need to find something big enough for this, I don’t even know if I have it.”

Jolene follows Beatrice as she walks around the kitchen, placing the roses inside a vase, the chocolates in the fridge and the brand new mugs - the ones with Chihiro and Haku printed on it and she almost cried - inside the upper cabinets. As she was done with it, she returned to the card that she told him she’d read once alone, grabbing the envelope with a little smile, “Ah,Roos…” she broke the wax seal with her nail, carefully pulling out the contents.

She laughed softly when she saw it was the illustration of a rooster and a hen, huddled together in their coop with the moonlight casting a heart shaped reflection on their feathers, “Oh my God.” she giggles, “He’s so silly,I love him.”

She leans her lower back against the counter, flipping the card open to read the inside.

   ‘Beatrice,

Hi gorgeous,I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for our anniversary and I hope these gifts cover up the space just so until I come back. I wanted to be there with you badly and while I know you’d never get mad or upset, I just wanted to do this for you. 

Anyway, happy anniversary,baby. Hard to believe three years passed since we first met and one year since we got married. Didn’t seem like that, especially because, well, you have this gift of making me love every second we spend together, so much I don’t see the time pass. When I first laid eyes on you I knew I was going to marry you,you know? I didn’t want to admit it, I thought it was crazy, but I kept thinking about it.

I was like, ‘yeah this is the woman I’m going to marry’ during our first months together!

I know you wouldn’t think it’s crazy…because well, it’s you. You have no idea, albeit I tell you…often,how much you mean to me. Bea, you are just the best thing that ever happened in my life.

You are sweet,you are kind, you are beautiful, you are so incredibly talented. I never tire of telling you those things because I love how you get when you hear them. You get bashful and you blush and you give me that cute smile that makes my knees weak.

But more than that, if it wasn’t for you we wouldn’t have Nikki. I just want you to know I appreciate and I love you so much, gorgeous.  

You are my best friend and my girl and I wouldn’t have any other way.

Just until we see each other again.

<3, 

Rooster’

What she cried before couldn’t be compared to what she was crying right now. She was sobbing, knees weak as she crouched down to the floor holding the card in one hand and covering her mouth with the other, hiccuping against her palm and just trying her best to keep her voice low.

Jolene hurries around her,licking her face,whining, fearing her owner was having an anxiety attack and couldn’t control herself. Beatrice laughs while crying, gently pushing Jolene’s face away as she sniffled, “I’m okay Jojo.” she says, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand “I swear I’m okay…I…wow I…he’s so sweet. He’s so,so sweet.”

Her eyes turned to the card again, so heartfelt and so Rooster,sliding her legs away from her so she could sit down on the floor, smiling down at it. She didn’t know how, but that was his writing, somehow he managed to write the card himself while he was away “Oh,Roos.” she whispers, bringing the closed card to her lips to kiss her cover, a few more tears rolling down her cheeks and under her jawline only to land on the collar of her shirt.

Beatrice wasn’t overwhelmed by work and by Marcus’ proposal, but she was glad to have this mental break for a bit. These past months have been a bit hard ever since her talk with Hannah, ever since she found out that Eric was still asking around for her and she couldn’t help but hate how he never took what she said seriously.

And reading Rooster’s writing - a bit hurried and leaning to the right, with harder lines on the T’s - made her forget everything. She didn’t want to think about Eric, she had Rooster. She had her husband, who loved and cherished her and their daughter, what else would she ask for?

She just genuinely hoped that Eric…stopped. She didn’t want to hear from him anymore, she didn’t want to know about him anymore, she didn’t want to find out he reached some of her family members– she pauses, “...he’d be pretty dumb considering that they all said if he tried anything they’d just beat the shit out of him,” she hums, “And they don’t know I punched his nose…yeah he’d never message them.”

He’s pecking at the corners until he reaches her, which he won’t, he already risked a lot messaging Shells whom he called ‘crazy as fuck’ the first time they met.

“As long as he stops it’s going to be fine.” Beatrice mutters, wiping her eyes one more time, watching Jolene lie down next to her to settle her huge head on top of her thigh, keeping those light brown eyes on her, “...we are going to be fine,right Jojo?” she ‘boofed’ out in response “Yeah,I think so too.”

She looks down at the card, then out of habit turns it around and frowns, “P.S. Check the blue box? Blue box?” she looks back to where his gift was on the counter, seeing a small cerulean object partially hidden from behind a paper towel rack, “Oh, well… I need to-” Jolene stands up when she moves, looking back to where the box was then meeting gazes with Beatrice, “Oh…you want to grab it? Okay Jojo.”

The pittie’s long tail wags happily as she trots closer to the counter, holding herself up by her front legs and snapping her jaw with her head leaning forward until she latched onto the box and brought it over.

“Thank you,Jojo.” she says, wiping some of the slobber clinging on the blue paper, “I didn’t even see this…well, maybe that’s why he wrote in the first place.” she comments with a soft chuckle, holding the box with both hands, checking it’s weight and furrowing her brows, “What did he get me? I thought the mugs were the treats.”

Jolene lied down next to Beatrice, her head on top of her front paws as her owner carefully unwrapped the box until she could see what was inside. It was a flat light gray velvet box, with a horizontal ‘8’ on the latch. Beatrice hums, pulling under the latch until it clicked open and revealed what was inside.

One thing Rooster knew about Beatrice was that she didn’t like things that snagged on fabrics, like elaborate rings and that bracelets made her feel trapped. He also knew, after some research, that Beatrice’s birthstone wasn’t an onyx like she thought but an Amethyst. Beatrice blinked when the purple gem came into view, her lips parting with surprise, “No…he didn’t…” he also knew that she was fond of small earrings, something that wouldn’t get stuck on her hair when she pulled it up, “He didn’t do this.”

Inside the box was a necklace, a thin gold band necklace with the small amethyst pendant lying on top of the velvet inside. Beatrice notices the small earrings on each side, with the same crystal, round and perfect for her, “Oh…Rooster.” there was another card inside, one that she had to flip to check what was said.

“I thought you’d like it,” she reads the words out loud, “Purple is a beautiful color on you.” she bites her lower lip with a smile, leaning her body against the cabinets as she looks at the gold and purple jewelry with her eyes soft and heart aflutter.

He didn’t have to do this, but he did.

And she knew if she told him so he’d just tell her there was no need to worry, that there was nothing wrong in pampering her like he wanted to. Beatrice just laughs breathlessly, gently lifting the delicate necklace up to her line of sight, seeing the light from the window pass through the purple crystal and create a white outline that made it seem ethereal.

“This is so beautiful.” she whispered, rubbing her thumb on the cut stone, “How did he even pull this off?” the question is directed to Jolene, who just tilted her head with confusion,”I know Jojo,I don’t get it either…I think he has some sort of super power.”

Or, and that could be the main option, he talked to one of her siblings.

“...that works too.” she laughs, still holding the necklace up,wrapping the thin golden strap around her finger so the pendant stayed in the middle of her palm, “...it’s gorgeous. I really- wow…I have no words…why is he so? How is he so?? Ugh! God…I need to give something back to him. I’ve been so busy that I–” she pauses, cheeks warming up “...I…I haven’t sent him the video…would that even work? I mean…I sent him pictures before, but a video is something else entirely.”

And she wanted to give him something…nice. Something he wouldn’t forget so soon. “And something he can enjoy while he’s away.” she mutters, sighing after placing the necklace back inside the box, closing it with a smile, “...he’s so sweet. God.”

Her stomach still had butterflies inside, swirling and twirling and flying like crazy, it was wild how it still happened. She wondered if it was just because she was a very romantic person and she had Rooster in her heart for a long time…or it was just because he was that magical to her.

As she sat there,enjoying the silence while petting Jolene, she felt her phone buzzing. She frowned, clenching her eyes and refusing to acknowledge the constant vibration in her pocket, until she figured out it was better to do it or else whoever it was wouldn’t stop. She lifted her butt from the ground a bit to grab the phone, unlocking it to check who it was.

Shells (11:30)

Hey, you busy?

Shells (11:31)

Hey.HEEEEEEEEEEEEEY

Shells (11:32)

Beatrice,pick up the phone. PICK IT UP

Shells (11:33)

HELLOOOOOOOOO???

Bea (11:34)

I’m here,Shells, what’s up?

Shells (11:34)

Finally. Well, again, are you busy?

Bea (11:34)

Well, sort of. Why?

Shells (11:35)

I’m kinda bored, I think it’s better to talk to my bestie than to stare at the wall since my sugarplum isn’t here :( 

Bea (11:35)

Ah,well

Shells (11:35)

I can bring lunch. From the Indian place you like, the one who gives you extra naan because they are that nice.

Bea (11:36)

…you drive a hard bargain, fine. Come on over. But please keep your voice down.

Shells (11:36)

What are you talking about? My voice is like a hummingbird.

Bea (11:37)

Shells.

Shells (11:37)

Oh fine,I will, promise. Scout’s honor or whatever.

-

“How have you been?”

Bea looks up from her plate to face Shells,who was licking her fingers clean while arching her brows, “What?”

“How have you been? Since you got Marcus’ job and such.”

“It’s not a job.” Shells arches her brows higher, “Well…maybe it is but, it’s not bad…I’m not so tired.”

Shells nods, wiping her hands after her fingers are clean of any sauce, “I mean sure but I also mean about Rooster,when is he coming back?”

The mention of her husband makes Beatrice light up like a Christmas tree and she smiles, “He’s coming back in the second week of October.” she says, “And I am already finding some costumes for Nikki and oh! I think we’ll be able to decorate the house! And we can go to the bar’s Halloween Party too!” and she rambled on, Shells just sipped her soda letting her friend speak her heart’s content because she was worried about Bea.

Ever since she heard that Eric has been asking around about Bea,Shells has been acting like the Malinois everyone joked she was. She was a lot more alert at the bar, she didn’t tell Penny because she knew how her aunt would react if she did know, and she was talking to Evelyn and the others about it.

Eric’s accident on Bea’s birthday wasn’t enough to make him back off, so whatever he was planning got Shells’ attention. Her friend had other things to worry about - like her child?? who was babbling happily while holding a rubber chicken that made noises in the corner? - and the last thing she needed was Beatrice worrying about Eric.

So Shells was on guard most of the time, eyes alert and narrowing at any big headed blonde assholes with no lips who liked to wear baby blue shirts unbuttoned to show the three chest hairs he had.

��Shells?”

Oh. Right.

Shells slowly looks up from her spoon, the one she’s been shoveling food inside her mouth, holding it a few centimeters away from her lips, “I’m all good, just enjoying our lunch.”

“...right.” Beatrice narrows her eyes, “I’ll believe that…anyway, is there any reason you wanted us to have lunch together?”

“Nah, just thought about showing up.” Beatrice hums, nodding slowly as she looks down at her food, “It’s true.”

“I know it is,I’m not saying it isn’t.” she laughs, waving her hand towards the blonde, “Anyway, yeah I’m excited to have him back home…I know he’s been really tired lately and…yeah, I just want him back.” 

“I know Bea.” her friend says, “It’s obvious. Maybe you should dress Nikki up when you go see him.”

“...that’s not a bad idea.”

“When do I have bad ideas?”

Beatrice chose to not answer that, chewing her lower lip as she thought about it. As she looked over to Nicole, who was currently petting Jack’s nose with a cute giggle bubbling out of her, she wondered how she could do that.

There were some things she could do…when he returned, but dressing Nicole up was a great idea. Plus, she knew he’d appreciate it a lot. And she had an idea “What do you think about going out shopping with me?” Shells looks up with her cheek stuffed, “For Nikki?”

[renee-writer]

The Heart Don't Lie Chapter 34

AO3

“It is simple. As there is no children and as Mr. Randall isn’t contesting the divorce, you will be legally freed of him within two months time.” Her barrister, Geillis Duncan, tells her.

 

“Thank you. That is wonderful news.” Even though, via the theory of the goose and the gander, she shouldn’t be feeling guilty, she is. It is making her stomach roll. To be free of him and Jamie to be free of Anna, that is the best possible news.

 

“Aye, with a philander like your ex, freedom is always the goal.”

 

Was it guilt that made her feel suddenly lightheaded? She grabs on to the front of the desk. Miss Duncan frowns and comes around to her.

 

“I’m okay just a bit dizzy.”

 

“The relief can cause strong reactions.” She looks down on her with a frown.

 

“True. Have you ever had a client pass out?” At this, she kneels down.

 

“You are a doctor, eh? Should I call someone?”

 

Not just guilt, Claire thinks, something physical is causing this. Blood sugar? No, she ate a hearty breakfast this morning.  Inner ear infection? No, no pain or ringing. Some sort of virus? Maybe but no fever, no other symptoms but a rolling stomach.

 

It hits her like a flash of lighting. She raises her head so fast she almost knocks into Miss Duncan.

 

“Oh God! I think I am pregnant!”

 

“I thought you and Mr. Randall weren’t  sleeping together? A coming child would complicate things.”

 

“Not Frank. He wouldn’t be the father,” she bites her lip as she prepares to confess, “I recently renewed relations with my university lover. Frank is sterile. Medically documented. In case he would try something.”

 

Geillis stands and walks back behind her desk.  With a brisk nod, she makes a note. “Alright, no worries. You won’t be showing until the divorce is final.  I can get his medical records if he decides to contest the paternity of the child.”

 

“Your not judging me for having an affair?”

 

She shakes her head with a smile. “No, for you aren’t. You are legally separated. Now he, shagging uni students, he is guilty of adultery. You are only guilty of living the life he denied you.”

 

She smiles, nods, and releases her breath. To have her approval without condemnation, is brilliant.  A baby something she has longed for, for twenty years, is even more so.

 

“Let me know when you find out for certain. I will move to expedite this divorce.”

 

“Thank you Miss Duncan.”

 

“You can call me Geillis.” She shakes her hand and leaves. The drug store will be her next stop, for a pregnancy test.

 

“Follow me,” she takes his hand, leading him to the loo, “just a bit farther.”

 

“Why are we heading to the loo? You wish the shower together,” his voice turns husky, “I can get your back and front.”

 

“Later. I have something to show you,” she leads him in, shuts the door, before picking up the stick, “Here.”

 

He takes it, looks down, and then up at her, his mouth opening and closing, without words.

 

“Yes. That was my reaction. My barrister, Geillis Duncan, says my divorce will be finalized in two months. That will be before I start showing. Hopefully yours can be done as soon as possible too. We can only hide it so long before…”

 

“Hush,” he places his hand over her mouth, “We are going to be parents! All the rest will matter later. Please, tell me how you feel about it.”

 

She smiles under his hand. He moves it.  “Shocked, at first. Followed by joy, then fear due to the circumstances, then relief. I have wanted a child for so long, to be having one with you, it is brilliant!”

 

“Aye, it is!” He showers joyful kisses across her face before taking her lips. They kiss, her pressed against the sink. He places the positive test on it before undoing her shirt. She is working on his pants. She wears a skirt that he moves up to her upper thighs. He grows in her hand after she frees him from his jeans and underwear. He lowers the cups of her bra, fingers work her nipples. His other hand jerks her panties to the side.

 

She moves him into place and her enters her with a quick jerk.  They come together fast and hard. She finds her pleasure within minutes. He isn’t far behind.

 

He rests his sweaty head against hers as the fight to catch their breaths.

[grymmnox]

weekly fic recs #16

its 4am and im posting this now because otherwise im going to forget

fandom(s): bungo stray dogs

ship(s): soukoku, kunikizai, lucy/atsushi (i do not know their ship name), and ofc some gen fics

Oneshots

Thank God That Walls Can't Talk; Scorpiusdare - bungo stray dogs

mature | 2.2k words | chuuya/dazai, chuuya & dazai | READ TAGS

summary:

Chuuya could still feel the way Osamu’s ribs rattled and heaved against him, like the air inside was trying to stab its way out.

When the Sun Goes Black; Mxxnlit - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 9.6k words | chuuya & dazai or chuuya/dazai

summary:

“Lie down, Dazai” comes Chuuya’s voice out of the darkness, rough in its softness, “’M not going to hit you.” Dazai leans in, a whisper of his own, “I know you won’t, not tonight.” He makes no move other than to adjust his grip, to feel the electric heartbeat beneath his fingers pulsing out a mantra of alive alive alive.

the bones are melting (the skeleton is ash); Some_Dead_Guy - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 2.8k | dazai & fukuzawa | READ TAGS

summary:

When Dazai first joins the Agency, there is something inside of him that is waiting to mess up. Something inside of him that is almost craving it, if only to get it over with.

He gets his wish after only three months of working with the Agency.

Or, Fukuzawa Yukichi is not Mori Ougai.

Kindness (and Other Fatal Wounds); full_moon_pills - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 2.7k words | dazai & fukuzawa, dazai & yosano | READ TAGS

summary:

The first time Dazai fails on an agency mission, he expects his new boss to punish him accordingly.

my wet heart catches on every thorn; Some_Dead_Guy - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 3.4k words | dazai & kunikida or dazai/kunikida | READ TAGS

summary:

As soon as Dazai wakes up, he knows it’s a bad day.

(Or, Kunikida realizes that his new partner is not joking when he says he wants to die.)

the threat of a bonding moment; necklace - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 1.9k words | dazai & kyouka | READ TAGS

summary:

"His ongoing train of thought ends when Kyouka stands in front of his desk, still as stone, staring down at him with big eyes and open curiosity and far too much innocence on her face than usual.

Naturally, it makes him suspicious."

Without Words; StarshipDancer - bungo stray dogs

mature | 11.5k words | chuuya/dazai

summary:

Something soft smacked Dazai in the face. He caught the offending object on instinct, frowning down at what he realized were a pair of pajama pants. Fleece, just like Chuuya’s sheep-patterned pair, but these were much a much uglier shade of blue and covered in an endless array of fish.

Dazai made a face. He just wasn’t sure what kind of face it was. He hoped it was one of disgust, but he had an awful suspicion that it wasn’t.

Or, 5 Times Chuuya tried to move Dazai into his apartment and the 1 time Dazai finally noticed

Long Days and Laundry; full_moon_pills - bungo stray dogs

not rated | 3.9k words | ADA & dazai | READ TAGS

summary:

After a tough case the agency is given a day to rest and relax. Dazai can't turn his brain off, and does laundry instead.

Completed

A peer behind the mask; karmicMayhem - bungo stray dogs

general audiences | 34 chapters | 74.9k words | chuuya/dazai

summary:

In an attempt to get the Book, Dazai, Chuuya, and Atsushi are transported into the Book to watch Dazai's life. How will they handle what they see? And what new things will be discovered?

grim's notes: general warnings n such for violence, child abuse/neglect, and dazai-typical..everything.

The Most Complex Organ is the Heart; collofo - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 18 chapters | 112.2k words | dazai/kunikida, atsushi/lucy | READ TAGS

summary:

Kunikida and Dazai are two partners in a highschool biology project with their own personal problems, which they work through together during their progressing friendship and relationship. Nothing comes easy for the two, and will have made things more complicated and harder to understand.

Kunikida doesn’t exactly like Dazai now. Jokes with Yosano still get under his skin, but they’re not taken personally to the same degree as if it were instead a stranger insulting him. Kunikida had just met Yosano’s friend, and already he hasn’t gotten a good impression from him. It’s not like my first impression was any better, he thinks.

“...”

“Are you not going to greet me?” Dazai asks lightheartedly, though the question sounds spoiled to Kunikida.

“Hello, Dazai.” He speaks with no respect in his tone.

Yosano cringes while watching her two friends interact.

Incomplete

Father Figures; endlessiterationsofthesamefoolishness - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 12 works | 52.3k words | primarily fukuzawa & kunikida, but also includes fukuzawa & yosano, fukuzawa & ranpo, atsushi & kunikida, atsushi & dazai

series summary:

Stories set in a universe where Fukzuawa is Kunikida's biological father and all the family dynamics that come with that fact.

first work summary:

People say Kunikida is like Fukuzawa's son.

This is true.

as per usual, if any links are broken/incorrect, or if i got any authors mixed up, please tell me and i will fix it :)

[batgirlgeek]

I posted 24,232 times in 2022

That's 17,829 more posts than 2021!

71 posts created (0%)

24,161 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jervis-tetch-my-beloved

@dailydccomics

@lovingly-lightbulbs

@winterstars21

@milfpoisonivys

I tagged 1,491 of my posts in 2022

#queued becuase i ran out on my post limit &lt;3 - 46 posts

#personal stuff - 40 posts

#yjspoilers - 34 posts

#my asks - 32 posts

#the batman spoilers - 28 posts

#yj spoilers - 26 posts

#batgirlgeek - 22 posts

#non fandom related - 18 posts

#non fandom reblog - 17 posts

#my posts - 16 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#(i’m not entirely sure why i thought the study of rocks/the earth would be fun for me since it’s not an interest i have but it wasn’t bad)

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

So I watched the newest YJ episode…I am in shock. Please do not speak to me about it. I am utterly heartbroken…why did they do this?? Why??

Also I watched it way too early. I was not prepared. It is 8:52am and I am not okay😭

6 notes - Posted June 2, 2022

#4

If you could either be in the DC universe or the Percy Jackson universe, which would you chose and why? If Percy Jackson, who is your godly parent? Or if DC, what are your powers and who is your mentor?

I'd personally chose Percy Jackson because hyper fixations galore! I'm also a child of Hermes, so, YES!

Kat why would ask me to choose between these two😭

But seriously: I think I’d also choose Percy Jackson—yes, there’s a lot of death and violence but in either universe, I would have to fight someone so I don’t think it’s fair to compare them tbh :3

I chose PJO because at the end of the day, it would be so cool to live in a world where gods and myths were real. Of course, ignoring all the child murder and general angst

I’m taking a women and gender studies class rn in college and currently the unit is talking about the Sumerian and Egyptian goddesses Inanna and Isis (currently writing a comparative essay on them). I cannot express how amazed I am looking at the different ways people try to explain how the world works and celebrating life and death,, It’s just super cool!!

(Side note: I don’t know if anyone’s read The Wicked + The Divine but I can’t stop thinking about that when I hear about Inanna, that comic series has ruined my life)

Anyway, as for godly parent, it’s probably Hades, not just because I like myths about the Underworld (though that’s a big part of it) but also because from the official website quiz, I am in Cabin 13☺️

(Also Hazel and Nico has siblings, who wouldn’t want that??)

—Bat

6 notes - Posted September 9, 2022

#3

2, 23, 31 for my ask game 🥰

Hello!

I only play Sims 3 so I’m going to answer my question based on that :3

(Also sorry the late reply)

Question 2: Least Favorite Sims world?

If I’d have to pick one I guess Adventureland only because I don’t use it much

Question 23: Favorite child/adult aspiration?

Surrounded by Family because I’m a big family simmer. Turn the Town is also a good one since I play a lot with supernatural sims and it’s pretty easy to complete

Question 31: Tag and give a shout-out to a simblr you really enjoy seeing posts from

I’ll shoutout two because i can <3

@wannabecatwriter @anamoon63

Also here’s my simblr side blog if anyone wants to check that out: @thedaydreaminggamer

Thank you for the questions :)

—Bat

7 notes - Posted June 10, 2022

#2

What's your favorite fanfiction you are currently writing?

Mine is Quest Parenthood: Challenge Accepted or Fall From Grace. Both are PJO AUs I am hoping to post over on Wattpad and AO3 soon. Do you want a dedication?

Right now, I think it’d be my Shadowhunters fic “The Moon” which I actually getting a chapter tomorrow for the first time in a month :’)

I watched the show over my senior spring break and I think it came at a perfect time because I was having anxieties about leaving high school and moving onto college so the show has become very special to me (currently reading the book series now) so I really like going back through the episodes (after I binged it in three days😭) and writing them out with some OCs :)

Anyway, enough of me rambling on. Yes! I’d love a dedication ^^

My A03 user is ImJustAGirlWhoLikesBatman if you want to do it over there too <3

—Bat

8 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Tagged by @jervis-tetch-my-beloved

Ten characters, ten fandoms (in no particular order)

1) Helena Wayne/Huntress (DC Comics)

2) Elliot Clayton (Criminal Case)

3) Sebastian (Stardew Valley)

4) Leighton Sekemoto (Sims 3)

It’s my list, I can put who I want

5) Nico Di Angelo (Percy Jackson)

6) Isabelle Lightwood (Shadowhunters)

The TV show because The Mortal Instruments is sitting on my shelves waiting to be read😌

(Also it was the one I got into first. It made me by the TMI box set, no joke)

7) Mothflight (Warrior Cats)

I LOVE Mothflight’s Journey sm

8) Wu Zeitan (Iron Widow)

Read it if you haven’t, trust me <3

9) Mary Saotome (Kakegurui Twin)

First ever manga I got. Only have the first two volumes so far. Haven’t been keeping up but it’s an…interesting… story from what I remember👀

10) Josephine Montilyet (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

She’s such a sweetheart🥹

This was a perfect way to finish my night after working on an essay for school🥰

Tags: @blackcat2907 @emomusicalnerd @ecto-archivist @jasontoddorjasongrace @tzar-of-torture @lanie-light @batnations @wannabecatwriter @itzroseblossom @atomwavearmyleader

(Really wish tumblr would only show blogs I follow like Wattpad does so I can figure out who to tag faster)

—Bat

15 notes - Posted September 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[zipzin]

Boomerang | Chapter 34 - Act Two: Summer 2017, Part II

Here's the next chapter of my Childhood friends Avalance AU, you can also read on Ao3

“That’s pretty much it,” Oliver shrugged from his seat next to one of his collections of arrows.

“Ollie, you’ve had a kid for what, eleven years and never knew?” She chuckled. “I’m not sure you can just say, that’s pretty much it. Who’s the mom?”

All three of their eyes looked down, “She passed, on Lian Yu a month ago.” Sara had to hold in a sigh. Why was everyone in Oliver’s life obsessed with that godforsaken island. The only reason she’d go back was if she was forced at gunpoint. “Her name was Samantha Clayton.”

Sara paused as she thought back to the rough time period it would have happened, “Wait, I think I remember her? Stick straight brunette? Pretty tall?”

“Yeah,” He answered.

Sara couldn’t help but roar with laughter, “I can’t believe you hooked up with her and got her pregnant! She seemed so,” Boring? Basic? God, Sara just remembered being completely unimpressed with her. The three stared at her in shock as she kept laughing.

“How are you laughing about this?” Felicity said shortly.

The smile dropped from Sara’s face, “Ollie having a kid he didn’t know about is the least surprising thing about his life.” She gestured around at the whole Arrow cave. “Obviously, her dying and keeping it a secret sucks,” Sara said, “But pregnancy was one of the things I made sure didn’t happen when I was self-destructing.” She shivered. And when birth control hadn’t been available she’d just prayed.

“I wasn’t self-destructing,” Oliver shot back.

“No, you were just a dick with a trust fund.” Sara said.

He rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t a dick.”

Sara shrugged, “You cheated on your girlfriend more times than I have fingers. Including with her own sister.”

“That was you!”

She shrugged, “Well I was self-destructing.”

Dig laughed, “You’re still a dick.”

Oliver opened his mouth and closed it in betrayal, shooting a desperate glance at Felicity who refused to do anything but roll her eyes.

“Remember when you just made me your executive assistant without telling me and had me run the entire company?” Felicity asked.

“Hey!”

Dig chuckled, “Meanwhile, like a normal person I waited three years to date my brother’s ex.”

“Okay,” Sara said, turning to him, “That doesn’t seem normal.”

“Not all of us can flit from person to person,” Felicity said.

Oliver let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like Ray and Barry. Sara chuckled as Felicity swatted his arm.

“I don’t flit from person to person,” Sara defended, “I open their eyes and we both have a good time with no strings attached.” She wasn’t even sure she could make an actual relationship work, not even including the complications of time travel. She’d had two relationships that had lasted longer than a couple weeks and both endings had almost killed her.

“How?” Oliver said, “Aren’t you in a bunch of different time periods? I thought you can’t interact with the past?”

“The Legends aren’t sticklers for the rules, and we have to do recon, that leads to meeting people,” Sara said, “But let’s see, there was Lindsay from 1958. And Chastity, a wonderful girl stuck with the Puritans, hope she’s doing alright. Almost got me hanged but it was worth it. Oh and Queen Guinevere and the Queen of France.”

“Guinevere?”

“The Queen of France?”

“Okay,” Felicity said, “First off, Guinevere isn’t real.

“You could say she’s a legend,” Sara smirked as the rest groaned.

“Which Queen?” Felicity ignored her.

“Anne,” Sara smirked. “I got her all prepared for conceiving the Sun King.”

Dig rubbed his temples, “You’re life is weird. I don’t know which is worse, you or Barry.”

“Come on Dig!”

“Obviously, I like you better,” Dig rolled his eyes.

“Excuse me, I’m still stuck on Queen Guinevere.” Felicity said.

Sara shrugged, “Short version is that Stargirl from the JSA used a fragment of the Spear of Destiny to create Camelot as a way of hiding it from,” She sighed, “The Legion of Doom.”

“Stargirl?”

“JSA? Legion of Doom?”

“Spear of Destiny?”

Sara grinned at them, “Vigilantes have been around forever and, well Jesus’s blood has magical powers. But there’s no need to get into that,” She looked around, “I know you’ve expanded your operation here,” Her eyes flitted to the newer mannequins, “But since I’m stuck in 2017, I was wondering if I could help out. Part time.”

“Part time?” Oliver frowned.

“You’re going to have to explain the Jesus blood thing to me.” Dig said as everyone ignored him.

“That’d be great!” Felicity said and elbowed Oliver in the side.

Sara chuckled, “I still need to find an actual job, and no I’m not working in your office.” She pointed at Oliver threateningly. It was bad enough to bum off her dad, she didn’t need to work under him in a position she was vastly underqualified for. “But my skills are much more suited for this.”

“Sure,” Oliver said, “Just let us know when you can start.”

“How about tonight?”

Her face felt plastic as she exited Sink, Shower, and Stuff, but she couldn’t help but feel the flush of relief at having a real, paying job. The manager was a dick, she already knew that she’d spend too long daydreaming snapping his neck, but she would be earning money again. Minimum wage felt like a victory.

At least she could stop bumming off her parents.

Mostly.

Her dad had insisted that she could stay with him as long as she wanted, and Sara had accepted knowing that she wouldn’t qualify for an apartment, let alone have the money for probably a year. If not longer.

Living with him wasn’t bad, half the time he cooked dinner, he left her the crosswords on the paper newspaper he still got, and she had her own bedroom and bathroom. His hours were mostly regular, and he didn’t bat an eye at her going off at odd times. He’d even put together an extensive medical kit in her bathroom, which so far, Sara had only had to use once.

But, she was almost thirty and living with her dad. With, as that one movie Laurel used to love, no prospects. Or one prospect, she supposed. Now she got to stock shelves and fold towels.

Nate had spread her number to the other Legends, and a petty part of her was happy that Ray hadn’t had much success in getting funding for his miniaturization tech. He’d been in Silicon Valley doing who the fuck knows, and Sara was disappointed that he hadn’t stuck around Star City. But besides him, the Legends were settling into “civilian” life without problem. Stein seemed happier than he’d ever been with his family, Jax was going back to school, Nate and Amaya were almost gross with their relationship, and Mick was finally making his way to Aruba.

It seemed like she was the only one that couldn’t figure it out.

Hopefully, Sara thought, after her first paycheck, she could take her dad to dinner. Okay, maybe after her second paycheck. She still needed to pay him back for the phone, the train ticket, something for all the food and utilities she’d used, probably some rent. So, it might have to wait until the third paycheck.

“You didn’t have to come,” Sara said to a dubious Felicity.

“Yeah, like I was going to let you stalk a top secret government agency alone.” Felicity scoffed.

“It’s run by Rip,” The name tasted sour in Sara’s mouth, “It’s not like they’d ship me off to prison.”

“You don’t know that.” Felicity said quickly, her eyes flitting from Sara to the nondescript building they were parked across the street from. Sara wasn’t positive, but she had a feeling Felicity was regretting agreeing to find a secret government agency.

She watched the building carefully. It looked like any other office building in Star City, but she trusted Felicity, and Felicity’s skills to uncover things that people didn’t want found.

This was the office of Rip’s Time Bureau.

Or one of them anyway.

“So what’s your plan here?” Felicity finally asked. “I can call Oliver-”

“No, I’m not leading a heist.” She didn’t even know if the Waverider was here, but even if it was, what would she do, run away by herself trying to figure out how to find and solve anachronisms? “I’m just trying to get some information.”

“Why?”

Sara didn’t have an answer. She wasn’t sure that she could explain it to herself.

“It would be stupid to break in.” Sara said, “I’m just casing it, you know, if I ever do have to break in.”

“Are you sure this Rip guy wouldn’t just let you in? Aren’t you friends?”

Sara considered it for a moment. “He’d be too suspicious.”

Felicity sighed beside her, “What’s the plan?”

Sara smirked at her, “We are here around five.”

“So?”

“Felicity,” Sara grinned and waggled her eyebrows, “It’s a Friday.”

Felicity stared at her, “No.”

Sara shrugged, “I’ve slept with people on more dubious terms.”

“Ick,” Felicity said. 

Sara rolled her eyes, “It’s not like they’re gonna think I want to marry them. We’ll have a nice time and I’ll get some information that they,” She shrugged, “Might not realize they’re giving me. There’s a bar two blocks from here. We’re just going to confirm that some of the people go there,” Sara said, “And I’ll take care of the rest.”

“I feel like I should stop you.”

Sara stared at her.

“I’m not, this just feels, I don’t know, gross? Wrong? Questionable, but then I guess you were an assassin, and,” Felicity took a breath, “There’s a group leaving now.”

They were all wearing the same ugly navy suit and Sara watched as they headed towards the bar she’d staked out earlier. “Do they have a uniform?” Sara muttered, and had Felicity start the car once they’d crossed the street.

Sure enough, they were heading towards the bar. It was trendy, with those stupid light bulbs and stainless steel metal tables and chairs that were extremely uncomfortable. Sara wished it could have been a little more divey, but if this was where the Time Bureau men preferred, well, she didn’t have a choice.

“Alright, you coming?” Sara asked once Felicity had swung into a parking spot.

“Only for a little bit.” Felicity muttered.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

The bar was slowly filling up when they entered, mostly with people getting a drink after work as a way to welcome the weekend. The Time Bureau lackeys were a bit harder to spot, their navy suits blending in with some of the others, but Sara saw that a group of five were gathered in one of the corners, identical pins with an hourglass on their lapels.

Felicity started to walk towards them and Sara grabbed her arm, “Not yet.” She muttered.

“I just want to get this over with.” Felicity mumbled.

“You can leave at any time,” Sara said as she guided them towards the bar.

“What if they’re ax murderers?”

“We’re literally vigilantes.” Sara rolled her eyes as she ordered a whiskey for herself while Felicity got a vodka martini.

“What?” Felicity asked.

“When did you become a vodka martini person?” Sara asked once the drinks were placed in front of them.

“I need something in my hands,” Felicity said, “And occupying my mouth.”

Sara snorted as she took a sip of her own drink.

“Not like that,” Felicity grumbled.

Sara turned around and surveyed the bar, eyes lingering on some of the other groups before she made eye contact with one of the Time Bureau men. He was decently handsome, with short brown hair and a smile out of a Sears catalog. Boring and safe, which would be perfect.

She raised an eyebrow at him and took another sip from her drink before she turned back to Felicity.

“How do you do that?” Felicity asked.

“What?”

“Just be so smooth like that. You just look around and have half the bar dying to talk to you. And you didn’t even do anything!”

“Well, I do have extensive training on how to get a target’s attention. Especially to get them alone.” Sara said, “I also know I’m hot.”

“See, I’m not-”

Sara put her finger to Felicity’s lips, “Don’t finish that sentence Felicity. You’re very hot.” She grinned as Felicity’s cheeks flushed red.

“You had some really, really, good training, like scarily good, like I might,” Felicity shook her head. “I’m in a relationship.” Felicity finished.

Sara laughed, “How are you and Ollie?”

“It’s weird,” Felicity sighed, “He wants to be a good father for William, but William is admittedly pissed off about the whole situation. Which he has a right to be, but he’s eleven.” Felicity sighed, “And I can’t figure out if Oliver really wants me to get to know him?” Felicity shrugged, “Maybe? He wants to ease William into everything, but it's just so confusing of where my boundaries are supposed to be. Because Oliver doesn’t seem to know and William, is well,” She sighed.

“Yeah,” Sara said. “Wish Tommy was around.”

“Tommy?”

“You know, since his mom died when he was a kid too. He was younger though.” Sara hadn’t known him yet, had just met Tommy when he was all grins and the occasional flash of anger when his dad was mentioned. Laurel had warned her to not say anything about his mom and threatened to tell their parents about where the old crystal bowl actually went if she did.

“Right,” Felicity said.

“And the new team?”

“They’re hardly new,” Felicity scoffed. “You’re just not around enough.” She bumped their shoulders together. 

“Well, I’ll be around a lot more now.” Sara sighed, “So I’ll actually get to know them, I guess.” She’d met everyone but Dinah so far, and they seemed, nice? She hadn’t really worked with them, letting them back up Oliver when they were available, while she’d patrol on her own, with Dig, or just Felicity on tech.

“You sound thrilled.” Felicity said and laughed. She finished her drink and then looked behind Sara. “The one you were looking at keeps looking over here.”

“Excellent,” Sara nursed her own drink. “You can go home,” Sara nodded, “I have it handled from here.”

“Are you sure?”

Sara nodded, “And hey, I have you on speed dial now.”

“Okay, and no one calls it speed dial anymore.” Felicity grabbed her coat and put down some cash for their drinks. 

“You don’t have-”

“Sara, you have a minimum wage job. I can buy us some drinks. I need to do more fun things with friends that don’t involve people getting shot with arrows. It’s a thank you for bringing me somewhere where there's no punching.”

“Okay.” Sara sighed and then waved as she walked out the door.

Sara finished her own drink and placed the empty glass to the right of her.

“Can I get you a drink?” A voice behind her said. Sara turned around and grinned when she saw it was the man she’d been eyeing earlier.

“That would be great,” Sara said.

Craig (and Sara wasn’t completely over the fact that she’d slept with a dude named Craig) had been, well, technically, satisfying. He’d lacked creativity, but hadn’t made her regret all of her life choices. He’d been smart enough to not say anything too incriminating about his top secret job, and to tell just enough that if she didn’t know better she’d be impressed.

He also slept like the dead.

It had been easy in the morning to go through his wallet until she found his official Time Bureau badge and hide it in her dad’s gun safe. Luckily, her father was out of town for the weekend doing something political in Central City because she wasn’t sure he’d been okay with this.

She slipped back into bed, kicking him slightly until he woke up.

“Hey,” He grinned at her, voice groggy and Sara smiled back.

“Hey.” She looked at him and debated for a moment, and then slipped out of bed, “I actually have somewhere I need to be.”

“Oh,” He blinked a couple times, “Yeah, no problem, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Oh really,” She fluttered her eyelashes as he pulled up his pants. “Thank you.”

“Can I leave you with my number?” He asked.

“Of course,” Sara said and dutifully pretended to type the number into her phone. “I’ll text you later.”

“Great.” He smiled.

She ushered him through the living room and the front door, letting him leave her with a kiss on her cheek. She opened the safe back up, and kissed the card emblazoned with the Time Bureau emblem.

She had done it.

[amaranthinedream]

Our Entangled Lines - Chapter 34: Interlude: A Two-Month Deadline    

“High-quality necklaces, bracelets, broaches, and rings! Get them here!” She hollered at some passing fancy folk. They didn’t even glance at her, the accent too noticeable for them not to know that she didn't below here. That she was other. At least they didn’t spit at her like some others had.

Sneering, her eyes were drawn to the building across the street, where a cloaked man with dark hair had just emerged out of some fancy retailer's office. The owner shook his fist at the dark-haired man and was causing quite the scene.

“I’ll sell you my mines when I’m dead! You hear me? Dead!”

Seemingly unphased, the man simply bowed, rather mockingly in how precise yet elegant it was, before pulling up his hood and walking away.

Makoto recognised a snub when she saw it; the Yueh nobles used to stage entire silent wars when they encountered their opposing courtiers on her shop floor, using nothing but snide glances and subtle but derisive body language. To this day, she was convinced that she had been a personal eyewitness to the snub that finally drove Todoroki Enji to consider turning traitor.

But that wasn’t important right now. The cloaked man barely walked two steps before two bodyguards fell into step with him, so he must have been someone with money. The subtly dark but expensive embroidery on his cloak and the gleam of his polished loafers only compounded her theory.

She picked up her voice, hoping to tempt him over. “High-quality necklaces, bracelets, broaches, and rings! Get them here!”

She wasn't truly expecting it to work, so she was surprised when he urged the men following him to fall away as he approached her.

The cloaked man sidled up to her little cobbled-together stall. “Good morning, madam.”

Well, this one had manners, at least.

Read the rest here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26175313/chapters/109418202

[moccahobi]

I posted 955 times in 2022

That's 328 more posts than 2021!

112 posts created (12%)

843 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@compassionatereminders

@moccahobi

@jung-koook

@dokyeomblr

@taegularities

I tagged 341 of my posts in 2022

#mutuals - 76 posts

#lillia talks - 71 posts

#lillia recs - 57 posts

#comments - 26 posts

#lillia reblogs - 21 posts

#lillia answers - 18 posts

#wkcnet - 16 posts

#bts fanfic - 16 posts

#btsstan12 - 13 posts

#bts fluff - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 104 characters

#i'd wanted to start december off with a bang and try to finish a quick fic but i guess i wont be able to

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

A Fae’s Brew to Take You Away Masterlist

Summary:  Experiments never go as planned. That's why testing is so important. But when a fae tests a potion on themself that turns them human temporarily, they didn't realize the series of events it'd set off. One fateful meeting with a photography student in college turns the fae's world upside-down and sets off a series of dangerous events.

Pairings: Taehyung x Reader, Yoongi x Hoseok

Genre: Fae AU!, College AU!, Angst, Fluff, Adventure, Thriller

Current Word Count: 

Planned Schedule: The second Sunday of every other month.

Masterlist last updated: 5/8/2022

- Prologue

- Chapter 1

34 notes - Posted January 6, 2022

#4

Let You Fly [Namjoon x Jimin]

Summery: Namjoon and Jimin have been together for only 7 months and it’s been near perfect. The two fit together wonderfully. All changes when Namjoon’s dream job offer slides itself into his inbox. He’d been eyeing the position in Japan for years… It wouldn’t be fair to Jimin to pack up his bags and join Namjoon, but it wouldn’t be fair to Namjoon to try to force him to stay. Instead, Jimin must let him fly.

Pairings: Namjoon (BTS) x Jimin (BTS)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: None

Word Count:  3.5k words

Genre: Angst, A touch of fluff

A/N: A big thank you to @bluewhale52 for betaing! Your feedback was soooo helpful!!!!!!!

A/N2: This fic is part of @bangtanwritingbingo​’s summer bingo! The prompt for this is “Jimin x Namjoon”!

Song inspiration: Let You Fly by Sunshine State

The sweet fragrance of the flower shop filled Jimin's nostrils as he worked away on a bouquet order. Jimin hummed along to the soft music that played in the background, his mind zeroed in on putting the flowers together in just the right way. Behind him, Namjoon sat at a small table, typing away on his computer. He was supposed to be on a small break, but like the work loving man he was, he was actually clearing out his inbox. Every once in a while, he'd sigh deeply and run his hands through his hair tiredly when he found an email that he actually had to respond to with thought. 

See the full post

37 notes - Posted May 29, 2022

#3

A Story From a Different Time [Taehyung x Reader]

Summery:  Love. Love is such a wonder. Your love story is especially wondrous to your grandkids who love love as much as you and hang on to every word as you relive the time in your life as a teacher when you met a soft hearted tattoo artist.

Pairings: Taehyung (BTS) x Reader

Rating: Teens and up

Warnings: a suggestive joke

Word Count:  4.8k

Genre: Fluff, a hint of angst, Teacher au! Tattoo artist au!

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOVELY AND AMAZING @taegularities​. This has been quite a year for you and I am so proud of all you’ve done and survived. You’re so strong and caring. Make sure to have a nice big celebration and remember, I am always giving you big big hugs. I love you so much bb!

“Halmoni?”

“Yes, Dohyun-ah?” 

“How did-did-did you and harabeoji meet?” 

You sighed, gently rubbing Dohyun’s head as you tucked his sheets around him. 

“Well, it was…”

You sighed and giggled, looking out the window to the clear night sky.

“We met in a really cute way… but it’s late, baby, I can tell you tomorrow. What story do you want me to read to you tonight?”

Dohyun pouted, his lips pouting.

“P-please Halmoni! Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

You laughed, rubbing his forehead.

“Ok, baby.”

See the full post

46 notes - Posted November 20, 2022

#2

Heated Blanket

Summery: After finals, you choose to take a nap. Your favorite heated blanket comes to join you.

Pairing: Jungkook (bts) x Reader

Word Count: 771 words 

Genre: Fluff, College AU

Rating: General audiences

Warnings: Talk about food

A/N: Happy birthday to the wonderful @ditttiii​! I know you’re in the midst of finals right now! Please make sure to take care of yourself and rest when able! I hope you have a wonderful birthday as well (even if you celebrate it after the rush of all your finals)!

The couch hugged you lovingly as you breathed a deep sigh of relief, allowing yourself to rest in a way that you hadn't let yourself in months. Your mind felt as blank as a windows screensaver as your aching body seemed to release some of the pent up tension from weeks and weeks of tiresome work. It wasn't the nicest couch nor was it always the most comfortable couch, but in that moment after finishing your last final of the semester it was the most comfortable place in the world. There were no other things you needed to do at that moment.

See the full post

53 notes - Posted January 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Affection, Not Attention

Writing is seen as a solitary hobby. Yet almost every day there is a post asking for more engagement, how come? 

For whatever reason a writer has posted (for growth, interaction, or just because), writing is transformed. Through writing communities and sharing our writing online, our brainchildren become part of a conversation between writers and readers that I find is often underplayed or overlooked in conversations about engagement.

A commonality of many writers on tumblr is the want for engagement… and distress when there isn’t engagement… no matter how hard we try not to focus on engagement. It becomes a tiring cycle. One that I’ve been struggling with for years. 

When I interviewed Mars, @joheunsaram, she pointed out that this struggle for engagement can be very unique for hobby writers whose writing is often a brainchild of ours. By that logic, I have a lot of kids and I’m ace. 

They are pieces of ourselves that we are showing off to the world. As hobby writers, our works often go through much less polishing and have fewer people to polish and influence them. They are often raw parts of ourselves in this way.

That being said, engagement was not the primary way people characterized their writing in my interviews. Through the wide diversity in their writing interests, we are all united by an internal drive, a want to share ideas (JJ). 

Writing is a beautiful amalgamation of concepts, theories, and ideas that all get wrapped up to create something magical. In interviewing authors, a common theme was how their writing helps them process “[their] thoughts, [their] fantasies and [their] emotions” (@mlkydrms) This sentiment of writing was echoed in conversations I had with Kas (@voiceswithoutlips), Kiki (@chryblossomjjk), Cath (@magicshopaholic), and Rid (@taegularities). Writing is also done with a focus on sharing ideas and a love for the medium (JJ (@m-yg93), Courtney (@casuallyimagining)).

Engagement was often talked about in relation to how people thought of and characterized their readers though. Community, understanding, connections were all things talked about in relation to readers as well. The want for people talking about and relating to characters and themes in their writing is a common theme I found. While likes and reblogs show a level of enjoyment and appreciation, comments are innately human and in turn, have a deep level of intimacy. Engagement is about growing bonds and it “adds an aspect of connection” (Ru (@btsmosphere)). 

Reader engagement was also brought up when talking about coping with the stresses of writing. As we all know, writing can be tiring and challenging, and engagement soothes the challenges that can come with writing, comments specifically have the power to “stifle the negative thoughts” (Kiki). They encourage and motivate us to keep exploring our worlds in addition to sharing affection. 

A great example of this: Courtney mentioned getting inspiration to write a new fic after someone read a lot of their pieces for a specific member. 

Our fics are like opening our arms up into a crowd of people and saying, “I would love a hug”...  We “spend so much time writing [our fics] and then putting [them] out” so when there is no engagement, no hug, it can be disheartening (Rid). It feels like everyone in the crowd is staring at us and thinking, “What the hell are you doing?” 

Looking back at posts asking for engagement from readers, I don’t think they’re generally asking for attention. What many writers want is affection. We want to have these intimate things that we're sharing to be acknowledged. Nep phrased it wonderfully when he said that our posts are like sharing a piece of media related to a topic we like to our friends and hoping a friend will get engaged. 

Cath gave a wonderful example, highlighting About You that has fewer notes than other fics of hers but the comments are very deep and insightful and mean the world to her. Those comments hold a special place in her heart.

I think this framing of engagement also explains why constructive criticism may not be wanted by authors. Many of us write as a hobby, and while we post to share these intimate thoughts, and to have a conversation about them, we don't necessarily do it to grow. While growth is a goal of some writers, there are writers who aren’t looking for feedback or wanting to grow intentionally, that’s valid and we should respect that boundary. 

If community and affection is the primary goal of many writers when posting and we are opening our arms out into the crowd, getting unsolicited feedback or criticism from someone we've not seen before (i.e. our first time seeing a reader or an anonymous ask) is like a back hug when we were expecting a front hug and you don't know who is hugging you because you weren't looking in their direction. It's very disorienting. 

This isn’t always the case, especially if writers do want criticism. They may be prepared for a hug in any direction! Checking with them and making sure that hug is still enjoyable for them is important though. 

As readers it is valid to feel close with writers as they share intimate aspects of themselves, but unless readers reach out and make a connection, writers may not have a feeling of reciprocity or affection. Furthermore, if writers don’t know a reader, jumping into criticism can be disorienting. In these situations, connections and affection are still very useful when giving constructive criticism (and are something that can be built over time or through a single comment). 

If you want to give constructive feedback, I recommend building a relationship with the writer and checking to make sure that they are ok with constructive feedback, and make sure to also point out what you enjoyed. Receiving only negative feedback or critiques doesn’t feel good and doesn’t help affirm the intimacy a writer is asking for. Additionally, if you didn't enjoy anything about a fic, and can't think of a single thing to say that's positive, maybe that's not the best time to comment. 

If you're an anonymous person, or don't have a Tumblr blog, I encourage you to make an anonymous identity. Writers would love to have anonymous people engage with and talk about their stuff and that relationship being built is also really good. We will remember you. 

We notice who comments, likes, and reblogs. Our blogs and fics become a “little symbiotic network” and it’s pretty magical (Kiki).

For writers, I also encourage you to think about what engagement means to you. It is totally valid to want attention in posting, especially when you put a lot of work into it (Kas gave a great analogy of cooking dinner for friends, praise is wonderful when you do). Not caring about attention is also totally valid (Cherry referred to their writing as art they hang up in their home). We all want different things from posting but a commonality I found in my interviews and generally with conversations between writers was a want for connection, community, and intimacy. 

Reframing my thoughts has helped me better understand why I get upset at a lack of engagement, and reflecting may help to better understand why and if you want engagement.

»»————-　✼　————-««

I want to give a big big big thanks to the writers I interviewed! @mlkydrms, @m-yg93, @joheunsaram, @chryblossomjjk, @magicshopaholic, @cherrysoulth, @taegularities, @btsmosphere, @casuallyimagining. All of them are wonderful authors and great people and I highly encourage you check them out! 

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any thought or ideas you have on my little piece! 

62 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[dfroza]

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures

for the 7th of October 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New Covenant) of the Bible

[The Book of Matthew, Chapter 15 • The Book of Judges, Chapter 8]

along with Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms with Proverbs 7 and Psalm 7 coinciding with the day of the month, accompanied by Psalm 16 for the 16th day of Astronomical Autumn, and Psalm 131 for day 281 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

A post by John Parsons:

Shavuah tov, chaverim! As I mentioned last week, according to Jewish tradition on Rosh Hashanah the destiny of the righteous, or the tzaddikim, are written in the “Book of Life” (סֵפֶר הַחַיִּים), while the destiny of the wicked, or the resha’im, are written in the “Book of Death” (סֶפֶר הַמָּוֵת), though the people “in between” will not be inscribed in either book but are given a grace period of Ten Days -- from Rosh Hashanah until Yom Kippur -- to turn to God before their fate is “sealed” for the new year. On Yom Kippur, then, everyone’s name will be indelibly written in one or the other of the two books, and the Ten Days are therefore referred to as "aseret yemei teshuvah" (עֲשֶׂרֶת יְמֵי תְּשׁוּבָה) - the “Ten Days of Repentance,” and/or "yamim nora’im" (ימים נוראים) - the “Days of Awe,” because repentance at this time (or its lack) will affect the divine decree for the coming year....

The climax of these Ten Days of Awe is the 25 hour fast on Yom Kippur, the “Day of Atonenent,” that symbolizes the people’s sincere desire to be purified from their sins. The sages state that "afflicting the soul" (Lev. 23:32), or fasting from food and drink, is not undertaken as a means of punishing ourselves for our sins, but is intended to help us focus entirely on our spiritual side, free from carnal interests and concerns. It is a day utterly focused on the LORD and our need for reconciliation and salvation...

The biblical name for the Day of Atonement is Yom Kippurim (יוֹם הַכִּפֻּרִים), meaning "the day of covering(s), atonements, pardons, reconciling." Yom Kippur was the only time when the High Priest would enter the Holy of Holies and utter the Name of YHVH to offer blood sacrifice for the sins of the people. This "life for a life" principle is the foundation of the sacrificial system and marked the day of intercession made by the High Priest on behalf of Israel.

Yom Kippur is one of the most important holidays of the Jewish Year and holds tremendous significance regarding the Second Coming of Messiah, the restoration of national Israel, and the final judgment of the world. It is also a day that reveals the High-Priestly work of Yeshua as our Kohen Gadol (High Priest) after the order of Malki-Tzedek (Heb. 5:10, 6:20).

Note that in the Scriptures, Yom Kippur is actually written in the plural in the Torah, Yom Ha-Kippurim (יוֹם הַכִּפֻּרִים), perhaps because the purification process cleansed from a multitude of transgressions, iniquities, and sins. However, the name also prophetically alludes to the two great atonements given by the LORD - the first for those among the nations who turn to Yeshua for cleansing and forgiveness, and the second for the purification of ethnic Israel during Yom Adonai, the great Day of the LORD at the end of days.

Yom Kippur once was called “The Day of Mercy” (יום הרחמים) or “The Day of God’s Name” (יום השם), alluding to the revelation of the Name YHVH (יהוה) and the attributes of God’s Compassion after the sin of the Golden Calf (Exod. 34:6-7). How much more, then, is Yom Kippur the “Day of Yeshua’s Name” since He secured for all of humanity everlasting kapparah (atonement)? Yeshua the Messiah is Moshia ha'olam (מוֹשִׁיעַ הָעוֹלָם), the Savior of the world; His indeed is the “Name above all other Names” (Phil. 2:9-10; Acts 4:12). It is altogether fitting, then, that His “hidden” Name was proclaimed before the kapporet (the cover of the Ark of the Covenant) in the Holy of Holies before the Father for the purification of our sin.

We affirm that Judgment Day has come and eternal justice was served through the sacrificial offering of Yeshua for our sins (2 Cor. 5:21). Yeshua is the complete fulfillment of the Akedah of Isaac. Our names are written in the Lamb’s Book of Life, or Sefer HaChayim (Rev. 13:8). We do not believe that we are made acceptable in God’s sight by means of “our own works of righteousness” (Titus 3:5-6), though of course that does not excuse us from being without good works (as “fruit” of the Holy Spirit in our lives). Indeed, professing Christians will stand before the Throne of Judgment to account for their lives (2 Cor. 5:10). “Every man's work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man's work of what sort it is” (1 Cor. 3:13). We should walk in “fear and trembling” (Phil. 2:12). Life is an examination, a test, and every moment is irrepeatable. Every “careless” word we utter will be echoed on before heaven (see Matt. 12:36-37). Our future day of judgment is being decided today... May we awaken to the urgency of the hour and call upon the Name above all names, our great Lord.

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Psalm 76:7 reading:

Hebrew page:

About Yom Kippur:

10.6.24 • Facebook

from Today’s email by Israel365

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

[edai-crplpnk]

Sorry for the incomming infodump, I have been summoned by Naruto timeline talk.

Part 1 of the manga is aactually 1 year and a half long!

Graduation presumably happen in March because 1 that's how it is in Japan so it's the most likely 2 Itachi is “scheduled to graduate in the springtime” (Itachi Hiden, chapter 1 part 3), and Hinata is “preparing to enter the Academy [...] in March” (The Last novel, Prologue) so all evidence point in that direction.

The Chuunin exam starts on July 1st (Chapter 34), so it's either 3 months after their graduation or one year and three months.

However, ages of the characters in the data books work by giving the same age to every character who is born during the same year, likely the same school year, and by giving the age they turn during the year the manga starts in, not by giving the age the character are during their first or last appearance in the manga. (I will happily explained if prompted, but if not just trust me 😆). To put it simply, all the Rookie 9 are 12 in the first data book, then 13 in the second. It means Part 1 is necessarily spread over two years, the years where they all turn 12 and the year where they all turn 13. So it has to be during that second year that the Chuunin exam happens, which coincides with the fact that the second data book, about that second year, was published during the Chuunin Exam arc.

The two first rounds of the Chuunin exam last 5 days (Chapter 45: “You have 120 hours in which to complete the exam - exactly five days!”) and then the third round is a month later (Chapter 88: “And thus the finals will commence one month from now!”) So the Konoha Crush is on August 6th.

Then, Shikamaru just became a Chuunin when Naruto comes back from the Tsunade retrieval mission (Chapter 172: “Let's celebrate Shikamaru's promotion to Chuunin”), and we know from the second and third data book that he was promoted at 12, so it must be before his 13th birthday on Septembre 22nd.

Tsunade visits Sasuke in the hospital right upon her arrival (Chapter 172), Naruto and Sasuke have their fight, the sound four comes around, all of that happens pretty quickly, and so the Sasuke retrieval mission happens in late September, a year and a half after Team 7's graduation.

And that's it!*

Needless to say, that's still way less time than the Sannin got, and Kakashi had three student, and they had missions to do, and everything was a mess, so I'm not invalidating the post whatsoever but I needed to jump in for timeline data and now I will leave you alone, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

*Unless you want to account for the fact that the expiration date on Naruto's milk is in fall, so it would be extremely expired if that scene was in March, but I chose to favour more solid data than this one. If you want to favour milk expiration date, and the idea of the milk being only mildly expired, then it would be a year, not a year and a half.

He only had them for 6-7 months??

Looking at a timeline and watching the Land of Waves and Chuunin exams again (how far we've made it so far with the niece and nephew) and just realized how short of a timeframe Part I really is, that in Part I, Kakashi only had Team 7 for 6-7 months before it all went downhill/Sasuke left!!! I don't know why that blows my mind. SIX -SEVEN MONTHS! By the end of Part I to Shippuden and time spent with sensei/mentors, it's like:

Iruka/The Academy : 5 yrs

Kakashi : 6-7 months (months,people, months)

Jiraiya/Tsunade/Orochimaru : 2 - 2.5 years

When looking at it like this, I really think people/fans expected WAY too much out of Kakashi. He started with the traumatized-youth-of-the-year team and had only MONTHS to work with them and from the ground up. Subtract the time he was gone on missions, in the hospital and/or comatose (looking at you Itachi) and that gets knocked down to maybe 4-5 months. He spent less time with them than any other sensei and did a remarkable job for what he was given. I think all of this to say, give the man some grace. That was wild.

When all was said and done, what he did for this little rag-tag team of traumatized feral orphans + Sakura was more than amazing. SIX MONTHS, people, six months. Well, maybe seven, but still...let that sink in. I think people fail to acknowledge this when they call him a "bad sensei-" can't believe people are still doing that years later(!). Let any of the other jonin sensei do what he did in six months and with the team he was given - any of y'all try working with traumatized prepubescents and see how long it takes for them to work together?? I do every.single.day. They're all about survival and living in that trauma mind. Trust? What's that? Teamwork? Nope, gotta look out for me. Then you go and put them on a team with Captain Trauma, himself. Smart move Lord 3rd, smart move. Yeah, yeah, yeah I get it, only other Sharingan, control 9-tails, son of your sensei, blah blah blah. Poor Sakura, btw. Poor little thing didn't know what she had gotten herself into.

I dunno, I just don't think people ever see it from this perspective - that he literally only had them for months. Guy's team - already had a year together. Asuma's team - InoShikaCho were predestined wombmates. Kurenai's team - they were well-adjusted (Shino's the most laid-back person you'd ever find; just give Kiba a puppy; and who can ever get mad at Hinata, well, other than her family).

Traversing other corners of the interwebs and didn't realize just how much Kakashi hate dislike scorn "non-like" there is out there even now. It's wild. All this to say, just showing Kakashi-sensei some love. ❤️ and respect.

[casspurrjoybell-24]

Sugar Punch - Chapter 34

*Warning Adult Content*

- Theo -

I felt as though my legs were going to give under, as I tried to catch my breath with my hands on my hips.

It's been a week since Maddox came back and since today he had time to come to the gym with me and continue where we left off with my training, which I was starting to regret as I could taste blood in my mouth, from how hard he pushed me.

"Come on Theo, you still need to finish your 5km on the treadmill." Maddox said, before using the gym towel in his hands to wipe his face free of sweat.

Oh my God, was he seriously trying to kill me?

5km was... forty, thirty minutes?

My legs felt as though I would collapse any minute and he's talking about running...

"I... can't," I said, catching my breath, as he looked at me with serious eyes and a frown on his face. "I feel like I'm going to throw up," I say honestly, as my head felt it was being squeezed, same as my lungs as breathed in and out.

I felt like I was dying but Maddox had barely broken a sweat as he stood there looking me over, as I pathetically sat on the floor, my hands massaging my legs as they started to ache.

"That's your head talking, Theo, you'll be surprised what your body is capable of," he said, with his arms crossed as he looked down at me with a smirk on his face. "We can stop here for today and work on durance next time, you're still not hitting your session goal."

I felt pathetic and weak that I couldn't lift a finger when Maddox had finally taken time out of his busy schedule to train me but I knew my limits and I was nowhere close to where I wanted to be but I wasn't giving up.

I was just not where I wanted to be yet with my training and Maddox knew that but despite knowing that he still pushed me to never give up.

"Come on, I'll help you to the showers."

He held his hand out, which I took as he pulled me up from the ground, I groaned out in pain as I stood on my feet.

I must be crazy to want this, I can't even feel my legs from how badly they're shaking, my feet also feel like I'm walking on pillows as Maddox helped me walk towards the exit of the underground part of the gym, we were in.

Opening the doors, Maddox helped me up the stairs towards the main part of the gym, to the first floor where the showers were and with each step I could start to feel better, as the metallic taste in my mouth started to go and my head pain got less painful.

Maybe Maddox was right and it was all in my head?

I'm starting to feel better.

As Maddox walked me through the gym, he instantly got attention from the other people at the gym once they saw his face and I know I should be used to this by now but it still made me feel weird that I was dating this incredible person.

Helping me on the bench, Maddox turns and opens his locker as it's only the two of us inside the men's lockers room at the moment.

"You're getting better, I can tell you've been working out from how long you lasted compared to our last session," he said, as I looked at him, lifting his gym t-shirt over his head, displaying his perfectly defined muscled back, covered in tattoos.

I couldn't help but drool as I admired him, he was still intimating in the sexiest way possible and sometimes I felt like I was the luckiest idiot alive to have this guy all to myself, I was a nobody compared to Maddox Zane, this beautiful man who was built like a God.

"Who knows, in a few months you might be ready for a fight," he said as he closed his locker, a towel in his hands as he turns around to look at me.

What did he just say?

"A fight?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah."

He came over to me as I lifted my arms as he started to take my t-shirt off from over my head.

"You're a fast learner, Theo, you got some real potential for the ring, if it's all the same to you I could hand your name out to someone I know who'd come and train you when I can't."

"You think I... could become a fighter?"

I had never thought about fighting professionally, I still felt like I was nowhere near fighting but if Maddox thought I had potential.

Still... fighting had always been my weakness, I was always on the short end of the stick when it came to fighting, I was the punching bag, not the puncher.

"I... I don't know, I-I'm not like you Maddox, I can't fight..." I said painfully tight, as Maddox's dark eyes meet mine as his face turned stoic.

"Have you even tried? Don't give up before you even give it a shot, if I listened to myself every time I doubted myself, I wouldn't be standing here Theo." 

What did he mean by that?

Maddox started to get undressed as he took his boxers off, I blushed out and looked away shyly as I started to take my own shorts off, along with my underwear and from the corner of my eye I couldn't help but look at Maddox and how amazing his body was.

'Have you even tried?'

Have I ever fought back?

Now that I thought about it... I had never liked violence, even after everything Eric did to me and the football team, I never wanted to hit them back, the thought never crossed my mind.

I just wanted it to stop, I never wanted to fight, I just wanted to feel stronger, so nobody would think of bullying me ever again.

Maddox was right, I wasn't pushing myself enough and after all he's doing for me, believing in me, training me, not giving up on me, the only one that is letting me down is... myself.

Could I become a fighter though, like Maddox?

I... might have thought about it once but Maddox was what you called a 'natural born talent for fighting' he was a beast in the ring and unbeaten champion, everyone he went against, he won.

Someday I'd love to be like Maddox, to be that confident, strong and unafraid of anything.

"Here, let me help you," he said, as I looked at his hand held out to me, then his face as he grinned at me.

I took his hand and then I felt my heartbeat skip a beat once he pulled me up, my chest hitting his wide, chiselled one, as he looked down at me, with a look that made my face feel hot, his eyes looking at me the same way they do whenever he wants to touch me.

The whole session I felt it, the tension between us was there and I could feel Maddox holding himself back because he wanted to train me and whilst I wanted to train too, I also want to touch him too.

I could see Maddox's face coming closer, as his eyes slowly moved down from my eyes to my lips but because he could get any closer, the door to the locker room opened and I pushed Maddox away from me in a panic and stepped away from him before anyone could see us standing close to each other.

"Oh, Mads. Theo."

My face was hot and when I turned enough to see who it was, I smiled as he looked at me, with a nod as he walked further into the locker room.

Rick... the gym owner and another guy I was intimidated by from his size alone, even if he was in his 50's, he was terrifyingly lethal looking, with his big muscles and bald head and big white beard that was perfectly smooth.

"How'd the workout go?" he asked us both, as he opened his locker on the opposite side of the room.

"O-Oh, um, good," I stuttered out nervously, looking at Maddox who tightened the towel around his waist.

Rick turned around as he laughed a deep throaty laugh.

"Mad's got you weak at the knees already? Don't worry, you'll adjust in no time."

"Theo's doing just fine," Mads grumbled out, his eyes shifting from mine to Rick's. "Do you still have Tony's number on your phone? I want to talk to him about taking on Theo, just on days I can't come in," he said, as Ricks eyes widened at us.

"Well, I didn't expect this today," he whistled, looking at me, his wide muscled arms crossing over his wide chest with a lazy grin on his face. "I got his number, he'll be onboard to take over but are you sure this is what you want?" Rick said, before looking at me and asking, as he looked me over.

I swallowed hard, suddenly nervous and unsure what to say.

Was I ready for this?

"I... um..."

No running.... that was the old Theo, if Maddox believed in me, I knew I could do it.

"Yes," I said, looking directly at him, as he looked at me dead in the eyes, as the room goes silent.

Suddenly, Rick walks over to me and slaps me hard on the back and started laughing, as my back felt as though he hit me from the strength of his hand, despite him only tapping me.

"I like it, you got spunk Theo, I'll pass Tony's number on, he's always looking for fresh meat up for the challenge," he said, turning around to get his towel out from his locker as he started to get undressed.

"Come on, let's shower," Maddox says to me, as I follow behind him, not missing the look on Rick's face as he turned and watched us head into the showers, like he wanted to say something more.

Fighting... could I really be a fighter, like Maddox?

As I turn on the shower and step into the water as Maddox did the same in the shower next to mine, I couldn't help but second guess everything up until now, like fighting in a ring with someone else, for sport.

All my life I've been beaten, tossed around and broken, and now I had this opportunity to turn the tables around and do something with what I felt inside, all the emptiness I felt growing up, I could forge that into something great.

Just like how Maddox started...

I thought about it and wondered how Maddox really got into fighting, what I learnt about him was what I read online and apart from coming from a single parent household and living in one of the worst parts of the city, Maddox was still a mystery, not only to the people who knew him but also me.

Maddox only told me about his ex-girlfriend, who had a breakdown and how she got him into fighting but was there more to it?

I had wanted to ask him but I could never find the timing to ask more about his life, before he became a professional kickboxer.

I trusted Maddox and it was no secret that I had fallen in love with him, so if he said I had what it took, I was going to try, instead of just give up without giving it a shot, if not for myself, then for Maddox, who I admired, more then he will ever know.

"Theo?"

I turned around and saw that Maddox was leaning against the shower wall next to hear I was, holding out a 3 in 1 shampoo bottle for me, already showered and with a towel wrapped low around his hips.

"Are you okay?"

I took the bottle from his hand and nodded my head as I tried not to give away the fact that I was just thinking about him and everything else, not wanting him to worry about me.

"Yeah... t-thanks," I said, hinting to the bottle as I poured a generous amount into my hand and started washing my hair.

I wanted to know everything about Maddox, he was my boyfriend now and pretty soon he'll be busy again with traveling and events, I don't know when I'll ever get the chance to learn more about him, if not now.

"I'll wait for you in the locker room," he said, before he reached out, held my hand in his and turned me around as his face came closer to mine, until his lips touched mine, in a sweet and gentle motion.

Maddox pulled back and squeezed my hand gently in his, before letting go of my hand and then turning around to leave as I watched him walk to the shower room exit, his eyes meeting mine one last time before he opened it and left behind the door.

I put my head against the shower wall and groaned out as I looked down at the effect that Maddox had on me, just from a simple touch of his lips.

I... might have to make him wait just a little longer for me because there was no way I could leave here with.... this.

Still… I was going to learn to fight, despite not having an interest in it before, apart from self-defence, I was excited to see how far I could take it, not wanting to give up any more just because it's hard.

I wanted to be proud of myself and fighting could be just the thing to make me feel as though I could stand next to Maddox and not feel as though I wasn't good enough for him.

Things were changing now and I was exciting to see where the future was heading, a lot has happened and I was starting to feel like I found my place in the world, now all I had to do was fix this little problem... then I can talk to Maddox more about it.

First things first... I needed to take care of myself, before somebody else came inside and saw me. 

[skvaderarts]

Petrichor Chapter 34: Palpitations

Chapter 34: Palpitations

Note: Hi everyone! Sorry that this chapter is a week late! The last month has gone by so fast omfg! Thanks for your support on the Elden Ring fic XD what a weird thing to say lol! Maybe I’ll stream sometime so you can all laugh at how bad I am at that game hehe! But either way, expect more chapters soon! I’ll keep you posted. Might end up being the chapter for Friday this week depending on time constraints. But either way, I hope you like this chapter and are having a good week! Take care and I’ll see you in the comments! Have fun!

(-~-)

The door to one of the upstairs bedrooms was propped wide open, a brick from the back garden keeping it from losing prematurely. Plastic covered the floor to prevent stains on the carpet. It might not have been brand new, but it was in like new shape and had recently been deep cleaned. Each of the windows in the room were pushed up towards the very top of the frame, locked in place by a notched mechanism that held them there once they were pushed past a certain point. Fresh air came in through the window, helping to evacuate the toxic fumes from their current environment before they could do any harm, all the while a ceiling fan spun overhead to assist with both cooling the space and circulating the air.

On one side of the room against a wall was a medium-height step ladder, and on top of it stood Vivienne, a long-handled paint roller in her left hand. Her long hair was pulled back in a bun as she leaned her right hand against the part of the wall that she hadn’t painted yet. And as she ran the roller down the wall from top to bottom, she hummed a quiet tune to herself, more or less content to spend the rest of the evening doing this should that be how long it took.

But before long, the inevitable happened. Her roller ran out of pain. Turning towards the roller tray, she was silently surprised to see that it had ran out of the paint she’d been using to soak the roller without noticing it until now. Her mind really had been someplace else. This simply wouldn’t do. She was going to have to get down and get some more.

Just as she was looking back to double-check her footing before stepping down, she was reminded of a fact that she’d also forgotten. She wasn’t actually alone in the room. He’d had simply been so quiet that she’d forgotten he was there. Perhaps he could assist her by bringing the can over to her. The less distance she had to carry it right now, the better. She’d been going through something of a weak spell for a while now and she honestly didn’t feel like carrying that huge can of paint across the room.

"Can you push the paint over this way for me, please? If it’s not too much trouble?"

Vergil glanced over at her, his side of the room miraculously, but perhaps unsurprisingly, nearly fully painted. Well, that one specific wall was. But that was significant considering the fact that not only was he using the much darker and more noticeable accent color for the room, but he had to go around a set of two windows and, as such, had to be extraordinarily careful not to get paint all over the baseboard. 

Neither of them really had any idea if they’d properly applied the painter's tape correctly, and didn’t want to find out the hard way that they hadn't. They were actually quite lucky that they were allowed to paint in the first place. The landlord had been uncharacteristically nice about the prospect of her tenants wanting to paint one of the rooms. Perhaps she understood the desire to customize the room a new baby was going into since she had children of her own?

Picking up the can of paint effortlessly, he walked across the room in only a few steps, his long legs making quick work of the square footage at their disposal. The room wasn’t small, but it was huge, either. He then refilled the tray for her and sat the can down for her, available when she needed to refill it. He then gestured towards the roller, noticing a spot she was planning to go back to that was quite high up.

"I can do better than that. Can you hand me your roller?” He asked as he looked over at it. The spot was just far enough over that she couldn’t reach it after having moved her ladder, but the paint was still wet. The last thing that she wanted to do was paint diagonally across a section of the wall she’d painted up and down initially. She wanted this to look as smooth as possible. Like one of those magazines with the lovely interiors that she flipped through from time to time.

Vergil patched the section that she’d missed with an ease that made her admittedly slightly jealous of her partner’s height. She wasn’t short but Vergil… well. Yea. He then handed her the paint roll back before giving her a soft look, seemingly wondering or noticing something that she didn’t say out loud.

"Aw, thank you! That does make things a bit easier for me, even if you didn't need to do that for me." Vivienne said with a soft smile as she leaned over slightly to give him a kiss on the cheek. He stayed still and allowed this despite the slight dilation of his pupils indicating that he might be worried that she could fall. The ladder was stable but it probably didn’t appreciate all this sideways movement.

"If you're going to stand on that ladder, I'd prefer you make as few trips up and down it as possible." He said softly, looking down at the ladder on the floor. He then gently placed his index finger underneath her chin, allowing his thumb to rest on the small space between her chin and her bottom lip. He then leaned forward and placed a kiss upon her forehead, not needing to tiptoe to reach her due to her position on the ladder. She blushed and rubbed the back of her neck between her ear and her hairline as he nodded and retreated to the other side of the room to relocate what few tools he needed to the opposite side of the room nearest to the doorway. He would be painting his side the same color as her wall, the only different colored wall being the one with the windows that he’s just done. It was an emerald green while the rest of the room was a lovely silverish celadon color. Most of the baby furniture was going to be a darker slate gray color. They both agreed that it should have a lovely contrast and that it would be a great alternative to the typical pink and blue everything that saturated seemingly every molecule of baby-related products. It was becoming less prevalent, but it was still overwhelming to look at.

"That's fair." She considered for a moment whether or not she should bring up something that was on her mind, not wanting to seem dismissive or disingenuous purely for the sake of pride. But before she continued painting, she came to the conclusion that perhaps it was best to simply bring up what she had on her mind this time. "Vergil I… I know why you worry, but I don't want you to. I'm alright. Really I do appreciate your assistance, however. I didn't think you would be interested in doing something like this."

He paused for a moment, looking over at her. He seemed to examine the wall, unsure as to where he should start. At least they had already trimmed the whole room in painter's tape beforehand. One less thing to worry about.

"I didn't, either. But then it occurred to me that this is a unique experience that I would perhaps regret passing up if I didn’t take the opportunity to partake in it. And you did seem so very excited… " He glanced away from her and back towards the wall, his starting location now finalized. He then began to run the roller down the wall, coating it with the gray paint he’d just soaked his new roller in. They’d opted to simply purchase a third roller instead of risking the dark paint mixing with the light. After all, there was no way that they knew of to ensure that the emerald green roller was dark totally and utterly clean, and waiting for it to dry would have taken longer than they would have liked. “I… Thought that spending this time together might be… enjoyable. I was not incorrect.”

"Vergil I… thank you." She held her hand out to blow him a playful kiss, aware of the fact that stepping down the ladder to go to him would only cause him to panic. His fear that she would fall off of the letter or topple over and hit the ground was understandable. It was something that concerned her, too. But she didn't want him to worry. She still had things to do in her day-to-day life that required her to climb and bend and move around. And while he was very helpful and attentive, he wasn’t always around, much to his dismay. She would simply have to be more mindful of the risks that she took and watch her footing. That was the best she could do for now. But she wasn’t helpless, not by a long shot. And she knew that he knew that. She didn’t have to point that out. She just hoped he wouldn’t worry himself sick over it. 

But as she was considering this, Vergil broke the silence between them.

"How did your visit go? With the doctor."

For reasons she couldn’t pinpoint, her brain went totally blank. She knew the answer to that question. In fact, she’d been planning to bring it up when they were finished. But for some reason that she didn’t understand, when he brought it up first, it had thrown her for a bit of a loop. Well, now was as good of a time as any. She could talk and use her hands at the same time.

"Oh, everything is fine for now. I'm barely past my first trimester. But I suspect that things will become more difficult as time passes." She said honestly. She was 5 months along now, but the time had just flown past. Despite her persistent miserable state as a result of the symptoms that persisted as a result of her current condition, she was excited to be just over halfway done.

He nodded, seemingly deep in thought. He’d been out of town for a few days and just arrived this morning, but he hadn’t forgotten that she’d mentioned needing to go to the doctor. She had several visits, and they were quite frequent. And not all of them were for the same thing. Several specialists were involved. After all, her other medical needs didn’t just disappear because she was pregnant, did they? Nothing severe or dangerous, but they were still factors nonetheless, and as such, they needed to be carefully monitored.

"Understandable. Then the fatigue you've been suffering from is typical?" He asked, stealing a glance in her general direction. He allowed the roller to soak in the paint again before continuing to paint the wall. He was actually just about half done now. But then again, he did have a speed advantage.

"... No. He said that being tired is normal, but to the degree that I have been the last month or so…"  She wasn’t sure how to explain what she wanted to say in a way that wouldn’t frighten him, so she decided to just say it how it came to mind and then clarify if he became alarmed. But she imagined that he would be fine. He didn’t exactly have a habit of being visibly shocked or freaking out. No, that would be very much unlike him. She would be the one with a reason to be concerned if he reacted like that. "It's most certainly to do with the nature of my preexisting condition and, well, how… atypical our child will be. But my weak constitution certainly isn’t helping."

She’d know that she’d had one more or less all her life. She’d been this way for as long as she could remember. It was something that she’d learned to live with and work around in a way that wasn’t hugely detrimental to her day-to-day life, but she did have to admit that it was becoming harder and harder to do that recently. This… was taking a lot more out of her than she could have ever imagined. Vivienne didn't think that it would be easy by any stretch of the imagination, but this was… well, a bit much. But she was sure she’d be okay. She only had to tough it out a little while longer and then she could start recovering. Right?

"I wish I could ask my mother about what she experienced," Vergil said, a noticeable tinge of sadness in his tone of voice. She paused for a moment and looked over at him. It was rare that he ever mentioned his mother. He’d occasionally talked about his father, and she’d been shocked to learn who he was, but his mother was a guarded topic. She’d learned that the first time she’d played that record.

"I'm sorry, Vergil. I didn't mean to_" She didn’t get to finish before he looked over his shoulder at her and she stopped. He didn’t look upset with her. Far from it. He actually looked somewhat upset with himself. She always wondered why he looked that way when he spoke of her.

"You've done nothing to apologize for." He said softly, his tone low in pitch and his volume barely perceptible. His sorrow was evident, even as guarded as he was. She stepped down the ladder and placed her roller in the paint tray before approaching him, the man with the white hair meeting her halfway and, to her surprise, gently grasping her hands. It was rare that he did that."I have done much that I regret, especially with regards to my family. But this time everything will be different. I will keep you both safe. That I promise you."

The way he looked her up and down before settling upon her face so that he could look her in the eyes when he said that sent a shiver up her spine. Despite his tone, she understood with he meant. She believed him. She’d never doubted that for even a moment. But now her head hurt just looking at him, and she wasn’t entirely sure that was his fault. Was there too much paint in this room or something?

"Vergil… You don't need to make promises any more than I need to apologize. I believe you." She said gently as she squeezed his hands, realizing that he was having something of a hard time at the moment. It had to hurt knowing that his parents would probably never meet her or their child. He was still searching for one, and the other… that had to weigh heavily on his mind. Her situation with her family certainly did. “Your best is more than enough for me. I don’t need you to be perfect. I need you to be… you.”

He let her go and nodded as he gently placed a hand upon her shoulder, this time pulling her in gently to embrace her. He didn’t dare squeeze her, but he did hold her for a silent moment, his eyes closed as he rested his chin on the crown of her head. He didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t speak. But when he did release her, he nodded. It seemed that they both held very different standards for his behavior, and that his might be significantly higher.

"Good. Let us see if that faith remains after we assemble this furniture. I… " Vergil said, something akin to a smirk on his face. He looked at the boxes of furniture that sat in the hallway, apprehension all over his face. "I possess no skills when it comes to these matters."

She chuckled softly at his lack of confidence. Furniture wasn’t that hard to put together. She’d done it plenty of times. He had very steady hands and good self-control. It was hard to believe that he would do something silly like hammer straight through the frame. “It’s not that bad, honestly. Nothing to be afraid of. At least we don’t have to whittle it out of a tree or something.”

"Nothing to be afraid of.” The way that he repeated her words made it clear to her that he still wasn’t convinced. But at this point, his lack of confidence was more amusing to her than anything else. “As long as there's no nails or screws sticking through the mattress to poke the baby I'm sure it will be fine."

“I’m sure you wouldn’t do that!” She said, now slightly concerned herself. It seemed that the mental image of that was slightly alarming to her. Who could have guessed? Picking up on this, Vergil gave her something akin to a mischievous look.

"Let's see if you're still saying that once the cradle folds up and crushes them flat the first time we put them in it." His tone was far too casual for what he was saying, and something about that utterly wrecked her.

Vivienne was barely resisting the urge to laugh at this point, her face red and her head spinning slightly from the effort it took not to snicker at that. She knew that she should be horrified, but there was just something about the matter-of-fact way that he said that that threatened to put her in stitches.

"No! Heavens forbid! Like one of those old hand-drawn cartoons… " And with that said, she couldn't help but laugh. She pictured the cartoons she’d loved as a kid. The way the characters would get smashed and bashed and take the form of whatever had hit them. She couldn’t imagine that actually happening, but it was hilarious all the same. The poor baby. It was so funny. She was just terrible. She was going to be an awful parent.

"Precisely. But it will be considerably worse because this will be a real child. I don't intend to unintentionally build an iron maiden." Vergil said in a manner so falt and with a face so straight that she genuinely couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. And after a short pause, she gave in and burst into laughter. Gods, he really was going to kill her, wasn’t he?

She felt her skin become warm as her cheeks flushed and her eyes watered as she stepped back towards the ladder and stepped up the first two steps. She could barely breathe at this point, and it was starting to make her head spin and her lungs burn. She’s always thought that he had a good sense of humor, at least around her. But this was just hysterical to her and she had no idea why. Something about what he’d said had just pressed her funny button.

"Vergil, please. I'm becoming light-headed from laughter! I'm trying not to fall off this ladder and hit my head!"

Shaking his head he watched her seemingly struggle to decide if she was going to stay up there or climb down. It was only five steps, but she seemed very flustered. If nothing else, it was probably a good idea that she took a moment to catch her breath. They had a chair in the room for that very purpose, after all. "Perhaps you should sit, then? Once your feet have touched the ground, of course. Take a moment to compose yourself."

Panting slightly she stepped backward down the ladder and as both of her feet touched the ground, she nodded, clearly slightly dizzy but still in high spirits. She cleared her throat before continuing to speak. That wasn’t a half-bad idea.

"Actually, that sounds good. I must admit I do feel a bit light-headed all of a sudden. I-"

It was then as suddenly as she had begun speaking that she stopped and suddenly collapsed, her knees buckling as she fell forward and then backward, nearly onto her right side facing away from him. Only through pure reflex did he manage to reach her in time, but all the same, she had gone totally and utterly limp; unresponsive. And although he had managed to catch her, he couldn't suppress the arctic chill that shot up his spine. Nor the empty feeling in his chest and stomach or the acrid taste that suddenly overwhelmed his senses. This was pure and utter dread, something he couldn't recall feeling for a very long time. Something that he’d hoped to never feel again.

He had promised to protect her on numerous occasions before today, and he’d meant it every single time, but he couldn't protect her from this. She’d been dizzy and weak before, sure… but he’s never passed out. What… What was going on?

"... Vivienne… "

(-~-)

Well shit. Um, that doesn’t seem like a typical pregnancy symptom. Or is it?! Supposedly it is. I have no way of confirming this and wouldn’t even if I did lol! So the real question is this: is Vergil worrying himself over nothing or is this actually a problem? I guess that’s a question for later hehehe…