#would make me not think about quitting law to work at bunnings every day

[masterwords]

the only light i ever saw

Summary: After a brutal few weeks on the job, Strauss gives the whole BAU a week off. Hotch & Morgan head up to a cabin in the woods for some time to reconnect. Like usual, things aren't quite as easy as they should be.

Words: 4.5k

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: mentions of canon-typical case stuff, minor injuries, sex (explicit but quick)

Notes: Inspired by Hotch keeping his bike in his office and a desperate need to write more Sean.

Read on AO3: the only light i ever saw

**

Sometimes things were slow. They worked Monday through Friday jobs, had weekends off, were home by dinner time. Other times things were so wild that they were more or less zombies wondering what it was like to sleep in their own beds (or sleep at all). There was usually some kind of balance to it all, if you looked at the big picture, but right now they were barely able to keep their eyes open. The big picture was nothing but a blur. They had cases stacked up, one after another, for weeks. Every time they arrived home it was time to hop back on the jet. Once they were even diverted mid-air to an Amber Alert. It was just that kind of a month. They all kind of lived for it, the adrenaline keeping them going when their bodies said stop. Take-out boxes piled up in hotel rooms and they took turns on laundromat duty when they stayed in places where the hotels didn’t take care of that for them. They would sleep in shifts when they could and hope that through it all, they didn’t make any mistakes.

A body in motion stays in motion, that’s what Derek liked to say when someone started dragging. “Come on, lazy bones. My grandmama could do this in her sleep.”

“At least she’d be asleep,” Reid snapped, dragging his unruly hair into a bun on top of his head for something to do with his hands. He was way past running out of steam, he barely remembered what steam was like. That was saying a lot for someone with a memory like Reid’s.

“You can sleep when you’re dead. Here, have some coffee.”

“Morgan my heart is about to explode from all the caffeine and sugar I’ve ingested in the last twenty four hours. I can’t have more coffee. I need a nap.”

Conversations were getting steadily worse as time wore on, until they finally boarded the jet and Strauss told them to go right home as soon as they landed. No ifs ands or buts. No more cases.

“Do not come back for a week,” she said, and she waited expectantly for a cheers or an enthusiastic thank you but was met with dead tired eyes and half-smiles from the people still awake. No one was particularly alert. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you Erin,” Dave finally said when it was clear no one else was going to. “I think the rest of them are asleep with their eyes open.”

“David, please tell me you and Aaron let them sleep sometime during these outings. There are rules. Labor laws still apply to the BAU.”

“It was an Amber Alert, Erin. Those rules don’t apply and you know that. We haven’t slept in at least two days, some of us longer.” He indicated Aaron who was staring intently ahead into middle space, dead to the world but refusing to let himself be the first to drop off. He’d been awake the longest.

She huffed but there was nothing to be said. Dave was right. The regular rules didn’t apply to Amber Alerts, and simply put, she hadn’t ever been a Field Agent. She didn’t have much practical knowledge of how these things looked, barring a couple of exceptions wherein she felt more like she was in the way than helping. “Go home and sleep. All of you.”

At the tarmac, Aaron arranged for a car. None of them were safe to drive. Will picked JJ up and took Reid with them in their car, everyone else piled into an SUV and off they went. Most of them slept in the car with Anderson at the wheel.

They had a week off, but they couldn’t exactly go anywhere too wild...they were still technically on call. If an emergency happened they would be recalled. Always.

Still, there was no question what Aaron and Derek would do once they’d slept in their own beds for a full night. Haley’s parents had Jack for the weekend, spoiling him rotten at Disney World (they were still trying to make up for the divorce by giving in to his every childish whim, and while Aaron didn’t fully support this tactic, saying no to Jack was almost impossible.)

A cabin in the woods, more construction zone than relaxation but it belonged to them. Up there they had spotty cell phone reception (but a landline worked perfectly fine for emergency use only), no television and best of all...no people.

They loaded one bag stuffed with the bare necessities like prescriptions and undergarments and threw it into the back of the car, hooked their mountain bikes onto the roof rack and shoved Clooney into the back seat. They had this spur of the moment weekend getaway down to a science. They could stop at the grocery store on the way but they just needed to get on the road. There were clothes at the cabin, no need to pack much. It was like having a safe house minus the fear.

Once they were on the open highway, they were holding hands over the center console. Fingers slotted together, Aaron pressing a kiss to the back of Derek’s hand as they hurried out of town. Aaron always drove to the cabin, Derek always drove home. Even that was down to science.

Everything was going according to plan until they took the last switchback along the private dirt road that would end at their driveway and saw the glimmer of chrome in the distance. Upon closer inspection, Aaron knew with some certainty what it was and when he pulled into his usual spot it was confirmed. Beside the trash barn with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a book in his hand stood Sean, lost in the world of a Louis L’Amour with yellowed edges. Aaron knew exactly what the book would smell like, pages being turned by nicotine fingers. It was the smell of his childhood, of his grandfather who rolled his own cigarettes out on the back deck of this very cabin.

“Sean!” Derek shouted, leaping out of the vehicle. No matter how excited he was to have this time to themselves, he always loved seeing Sean.

“Sorry guys, I needed a place to crash.”

“You couldn’t call first?”

“You gave me a key and told me anytime...I needed to get away from the city for a while. Didn’t think anyone would be here.”

Aaron sighed but opened his arms for a hug nonetheless. Clooney could barely contain his excitement at seeing Sean because he meant playtime. He meant splashing in the water and going out on canoe rides and hikes on the other side of the lake. Sean spelled adventure for the dog.

“I’ll get out of your hair. You guys look like you were looking for a love nest.”

“No, stay. It’s fine. We just got a few days off from work and had to stay close in case we get recalled.”

“I’m gonna drop my phone in the lake,” Derek said with a smirk. Aaron elbowed him in the ribs.

“You’ll do no such thing. Sean would you help us load in?”

The switchback down the trail was long and steep, but Clooney bounded ahead of them. The lake expanded before their eyes, deep blacks and greens exploding in their vision. It was still early in the morning, the sun had barely begun cresting the trees in the east and every twig that snapped beneath their feet seemed to echo.

“How long are you staying?” Sean asked, hefting the bags of groceries up the side steps and into the kitchen.

“Four days.”

“Awesome. I’ve been messing around with a few recipes, you can be my test audience. I’ve got this catering gig coming up and if I nail it, I might get a shot at the head chef position at this new restaurant opening up in Atlantic City.”

Aaron frowned. He wasn’t looking for any culinary adventures during his few days off, but far be it for him to discourage Sean. “You’re willing to move to New Jersey?”

“Why not? It’s a cushy job. Atlantic City is closer to family, too.”

“Not by much…”

“Aaron,” Derek warned, shaking his head. “Stop. This is great news! I’m just excited not to have to cook for a few days.”

“Cool! I really think you guys are gonna love what I’m working on. Even my pickier than a toddler brother.”

The minute they were loaded in, Aaron was lacing up his running shoes, ready to blow off some steam for a few long, slow miles. Derek and Sean decided to stay close and take the paddle boards out on the glassy morning water while Clooney lay in the pooling rays of sun as it heated up the floating dock. They spent hours paddle boarding and swimming and lying on the pebbly sand. Aaron even got into the water when he finished his run, the sand sticking to his sore sweaty feet before he entered.

By lunch time, they were all standing waist deep in the cool water with beers, sun on their shoulders, squinting against the glittering waves.

“Why are you really here, Sean?” Aaron asked, wiggling his toes deeper into the sand while tiny little fish skimmed his legs.

“Shawnee broke up with me.”

“Shawnee? I thought your girlfriend’s name was April.”

“April moved to L.A. a year ago Aaron. I’ve been seeing this chick, Shawnee, for about three months. I thought things were going good but she went back to her shithead ex. He’s in this stupid AC/DC cover band. Such a loser.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Aaron offered with a wet-handed pat on Sean’s shoulder. “Break ups are never easy.”

“Sure the fuck not! We got a cat and she kept him. I miss Mr. Snarfles.”

“Mr what now?” Derek asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Say that one more time.”

“Mr. Snarfles. He’s this huge fat tomcat we adopted.”

“Did she happen to give you your balls back when she dumped your ass or did she keep them as a souvenir?”

“Oh ha ha, very funny asshole. You’ve got a lot of nerve talking to me like that when you’re getting your dick sucked by my brother…”

Aaron coughed and sputtered a little while Sean and Derek erupted in laughter.

“I know, I know. Sean, don’t talk like that. It’s rude.”

“Oh, that was a perfect impression. You sounded just like him.” Derek was already completely relaxed after only a few hours out of town. He’d always gotten along with Sean and the longer that Derek and Aaron were together, the more Aaron became a sort of third wheel. Aaron started toward the beach, too flustered to respond kindly. He didn’t want to argue or get his feathers ruffled during his much too short vacation but Sean knew exactly how to get under his skin and he was dragging Derek into it. Dropping into the water and gobbling up the space between them quickly, he splashed right up to Aaron and wrapped him in a wet bear hug. “No, no, don’t go pout I’m sorry. Don’t go.”

“I don’t appreciate,” he started but Derek cut him off with a kiss. And another kiss. And he swayed there in the gentle waves with Aaron in his arms for a minute, until he felt those coiled muscles relax again.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Speak for yourself!” Sean called from where he still stood downing the rest of his beer happily.

The next day they took the boat out and ate lunch in the middle of the lake. Sean made a charcuterie board that Clooney couldn’t drag his attention away from. After they’d eaten their fill of cured meats and fruits and cheeses they swam and swam. Aaron had relaxed, Sean had eased up on the teasing, and they were all behaving like children unencumbered by the world. Clooney quickly began looking like the most responsible creature among them, lounging on the boat in the sunshine watching his people with something that looked a little like amusement.

After a lazy day on the boat relaxing, Aaron started feeling the itch to move. To be active and he decided it was time for a ride. It was something like tradition, he and Sean setting out on the winding dirt roads that would take them up up up the mountain – well, the oversized hill, anyway. As children they’d pretended to be Frodo and Sam on their way to Mount Doom, now they were just two middle aged men whose knees clicked and popped with every rotation of the wheels but the feeling of elation at the wind in their faces hadn’t changed. “You don’t mind?” Aaron asked Derek who was lounging on the couch with a book splayed open on his chest, a mug of coffee gone cold sitting on the floor beside him.

“Go on, have some fun. I’m gonna get some shut eye.”

The roads were familiar enough that Aaron could have traveled them in his sleep. The feeling of the dirt beneath his tires was freedom. When Sean was little, he would cling to Aaron’s back like a wild thing, strangling him with all his might. They didn’t make it much farther than the first switchback in those days but to them it felt like a thousand miles. By the time Sean had learned to ride without training wheels he could travel as far with Aaron as either of them wanted to go. They’d grown up together on those roads, had seen them go from game trails to gravel and finally settling at packed dirt that was easily traveled by car, bike or ATV. When the wild ones came out with their ATVs they dug up the roads, pitted it in places that were hard to see, made biking perilous.

Aaron, caught in a brief moment of wonder at an Eagle soaring overhead, managed to catch one particularly deep rut with his front wheel. Over the handlebars he flew into the brush, skidding to a halt among brambles and ground cover to the sound of Sean screaming his name.

“I’m okay,” he called when he heard the panic in Sean’s voice ringing through the trees. Sean calling his name like that trumped any pain he might be in, he had to get up, get back to the road, prove to Sean it was okay. He’d taken quick stock of himself and couldn’t detect any real injury (except maybe to his pride), so up he shot and walked briskly back out of the thicket before Sean could come in after him. He’d already dumped his bike on the side of the road and was running back at a frightening clip for a man who spent most of his adult life smoking a pack a day.

“Sit down!” Sean called, reaching his idiot brother and gasping for breath. “Seriously. Sit your ass down, my god. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m fine Sean.”

“You just flew over your handlebars, you need to sit before you pass out.”

Sean hollering in the middle of the serene woods did nothing to make him feel better about the situation, so to humor him, Aaron sat down on a fallen log that lay parallel with the road’s edge. His knees clicked loudly as he lowered himself onto the log and he felt a bolt of pain somewhere deep in his lower back. Sean began looking him over, brushing renegade chunks of sweaty blonde hair from his eyes every few seconds with a huff.

“Believe me yet Mr. Eagle Scout?” Aaron asked, a smile softening the edge of sarcasm in his voice. Sean just slid his backpack off of his shoulder and dropped it to the ground with a thud, unzipping it quickly. He was carrying the first aid kit and snacks, both of which he dumped out quickly onto the ground. An apple rolled into the rut Aaron’s bike lay in and Sean paid it no attention. He handed his brother a berry Capri Sun and watched as he struggled to get the straw into the foil before taking it from him and doing it himself. The cupboards were stocked with juice boxes and Capri Suns for Jack, but they made perfect quick little sugary drinks especially in an emergency.

Sean deemed this an emergency, whether his brother agreed or not.

“Drink it.”

“Sean…” Aaron protested weakly. He did feel lightheaded now that he was sitting down, now that his body was slowly easing itself down from the adrenaline rush. “Fine.”

“Does your neck hurt?”

“No.”

“Your back?”

“A little...I’m old Sean. My back always hurts.”

“You’ve got jokes.”

“Sean, I’m fine. A little sore but aside from my wounded pride I’m alright. Let’s just finish our ride okay?”

“You still want to ride?”

“It’s only a mile to the lookout. We came all this way to have lunch up there.”

Sean took in the sight of his brother, the already drying blood on his chin and the reassuring smile as he finished the last drop of his juice pouch. They could ride slow, eat their lunch, and if worst came to worst he could always call Derek to come get them in the car. They were in the middle of nowhere, but modern civilization had touched this tranquil place and they had cell phone reception. All in all, he didn’t feel good about it, but he would indulge his brother.

“For The Shire,” Sean said hesitantly. Aaron smiled and held out his hand for Sean to pull him upright. There was no way his body was doing that on its own.

“For The Shire.”

(x)

By the time they got back to the cabin, Aaron couldn’t hide his discomfort and didn’t really try. His back and shoulders were on fire and his head was pounding. He was a mess of scrapes and bruises, but they were both smiling and laughing as they dumped the bikes in the sand and kicked out of their sweaty, grimy shoes. Feet in the icy water, hands extended to accept ice cold beers. When Sean told Derek what happened he did it with an animated quality that made Aaron flush almost magenta before wading further into the water. The chill felt almost heavenly against his sore muscles.

“You’re a disaster magnet,” Derek muttered, taking in the sight of Aaron in the water. He would need a shower and some cleaning up, those skinned knees and the blood on his chin made him look like a child after a long hard summer day of adventuring. His hair stood up in messy, sweaty tufts where his helmet had smashed and mussed it. Reaching out, Derek pulled Aaron to him, eyes seeking the answer to a question he wasn’t going to ask.

“It was fun.”

“Yeah?”

Sean got the BBQ going out on the beach while Aaron napped off his afternoon excitement in the hammock with Clooney. He was beat and the unexpected flight had managed to finally catch up with him. The chill of the lake water had taken the edge off, and a nice shower afterward to clean himself up and bandage up the worse of it was all he needed to get himself back into full relax mode. A little worse for wear, but nothing he was concerned about.

His nap gave Derek and Sean time to drink beers and dig their feet in the sand and talk about heartache, just the two of them. Things were quiet, listening to the waves lapping against the shore, the sound of woodpeckers tapping at tree trunks, at leaves rustling beneath the gentle caress of the wind.

“I talk a lot of shit about you and my brother,” Sean said, half-drunk and lying all the way in the sand now. No towel or blanket, just his body in the sand. The smell of grilling meat was intoxicating but they still had time before it was done and he was well on his way to drunk after the stress of the day. After fearing the worst – how bad that wreck could have been, and how lucky they were that it wasn’t. That they got to finish their ride, enjoy each other’s company up there overlooking the lake and the trees. “But you guys seem really fucking happy. I’m jealous. I end up in all these shitty relationships and he gets lucky both times he tries.”

Derek smiled and sipped his beer. “Well, he did get divorced the first time around but point taken. I’ve been through my fair share of heart breaks and one night stands though. I get it. And you get that reputation for being a dirty dog but you’re just out there looking for something you can’t find...I hear you. You’ll find her.”

“You think you’re gonna marry him?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” came a weary, sleep sodden voice from somewhere close by. Wind skipped over the lake and the hammock rocked, disturbing Clooney. The dog made a pathetic warbling sound and stretched his legs before settling again. Aaron didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes.

“Depends,” Derek replied, not missing a beat. He never did.

“On what?”

“On whether or not you can get my mama’s peach cobbler right. Not hitchin’ my wagon to anyone who can’t whip up my favorite dessert.”

“Looks like you’re shit outta luck my friend,” Sean said with a laugh. He lit up a cigarette and watched it struggle to life against the wind, glowing orange in the dimming evening light. “He can’t cook for shit.”

“Ah well, he can do other things…” Derek mused while Sean made a disgusted noise and stood to go tend to the food. “I guess I can manage if there’s no cobbler.”

From where he lay still half asleep, Aaron smiled. He knew damn well he could make that cobbler.

(x)

Derek spent the night pouting while Aaron lay in bed reading. He maintained his insistence that he wasn’t injured, he was just sore. His body wasn’t exactly used to that kind of impact and he was far too old to bounce right back, injury or no. He could understand Derek’s dismal outlook and the way he moped around the room though. Usually they fucked for hours in the woods, anywhere and any time they wanted. He’d been looking forward to it after weeks of back to back cases and a forced celibacy spell. He didn’t regret that part, they wouldn’t cross that line while they were working, but it was supposed to be done now, and it wasn’t. Not because of the bike accident, either. No, it was worse than that. Derek pouted because Sean was there and Aaron simply wouldn’t do it with his brother in the bedroom beneath them.

“Sean thinks we’re up here fucking,” Derek protested, his erection painful in his boxers. “Why aren’t we?”

“He thinks we are, he doesn’t need to hear it.”

“Is it your back? You can just be honest...maybe we should go home and get you checked out.”

“My back is fine,” Aaron replied. And even if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t admit to that now that Derek was bringing it up. “I just don’t want Sean to hear the bed squealing. These springs are loud.”

“We can go out on the deck, or into the shower, or stand right there against the wall…”

It never took long for Derek to wear him down. He wanted to just as bad as Derek did most of the time, and even now. Even when his lower back felt tight and achy and he just wanted to sleep the feeling of being hit by a truck away. His quiet hesitation turned into a sly smile on Derek’s face, he knew he’d worn Aaron down. It wasn’t ever too hard. The fights he put up were flimsy at best.

“C’mere,” he said, holding out his hand and helping Aaron stand. That part felt natural, pulling him close. Sharing space. He could see the stiffness settling in already, just in the time since they’d been upstairs. His joints were rusting up and when his face scrunched into something that looked like pain when he was finally upright, Derek decided to try and lighten things up. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered. “Never seen anyone look hotter with a tore up face.”

Aaron shook his head and smiled into a kiss, one leading to another as clothing dropped to the floor. “You’re full of lies,” he whispered against Derek’s lips. “Say it again…”

“Mmmm…” came the moan when Aaron’s hand circled Derek’s cock. “You smell so good…”

“That’s the menthol cream you rubbed on my back…” Aaron whispered, smirking. Derek grunted halfway between pleasure and annoyance, but he wasn’t lying. He fucking loved the smell of that stuff, and he loved with Aaron was in one of those moods. “You like that?”

“UGH! GOD! SHUT UP!” came Sean’s voice from the hallway and both of them stifled childish laughter.

“Fuck off Sean!” Derek shouted back, thrusting his hips to ensure that Aaron stayed with him. Focused on the task at hand. He only dipped out momentarily at the sound of his brother’s voice, but the sound of the front door slamming shut told the that they now had the cabin to themselves.

The rest was easy. Fast and quiet, breathless bursts of affection littered between kisses and moans of pleasure. They fell into a rhythm that felt like it could last forever, and under different circumstances it might have. But Derek could tell that Aaron seemed to be losing steam, or maybe his back was starting to hurt just a little too much because his motions started lagging and his breathing was getting shallow and strained. He pushed Aaron up against the wall and with one hand on his own cock, he dropped to his knees and took Aaron into his mouth, finishing them both off with an ease that never ceased to amaze Aaron no matter how many times he did it. It was like a sixth sense.

The shower after felt like a treat, hot water against flushed skin and more kisses that might lead right back to where they started on any other night. Not tonight, though. Aaron was stiff and moving slowly, shifting his weight from leg to leg as he brushed his teeth, and it was time for bed.

“We’re heading back home tomorrow,” Derek said, tangling himself up in Aaron’s limbs and tucking the blanket up around them. “You’re going to the doctor and then we’re gonna have some uninterrupted sex. A lot of it.”

“Or we could just tell Sean to get out…this is my cabin.” Aaron paused, a sly smile drifting over his tired features. "Our cabin."

It was hard for Derek to breathe after that, hard for him to think about much of anything outside of jumping on top of Aaron and making one more attempt at sex. But he held back, he could feel Aaron's slow pulse, his quiet almost asleep breath and he sighed. Reality seeped back in. “The guy’s heartbroken. He needs the lake. I need you to myself.”

“What if the doctor says I shouldn’t have sex for a while? You know...to recuperate…” he laid that last part on thick,still smiling into the dark. Maybe hoping Derek would change his mind about even going to the doctor, but Derek just huffed indignantly and kissed Aaron’s shoulder.

"Doctors don't know everything.”

[captain-hawks]

Dee my beloved!! I missed you so very much these past couple of weeks! I have post notifications for you turned on so every time I got a lil notification from you I would be like c: when I saw your url and then :c bc I was usually too distracted/busy to come on here esp bc I need a laptop for the level of word vomit I usually conjure up for your precious thoughts and words.

I hope you're feeling better, so sorry to hear you were sick. I spent 20 hours making over 2 gallons of noodle soup and all its accoutrement for my bf's surprise bday party so I'm virtually sharing it with you. It's a bun rieu with plenty of Dungeness crab topped with lots of fresh veggie and herbs and homemade crab meatballs and herby fish paste and lil porky meatballs.

Did you do anything fun over labor day/are you prepping for fall in any way? I'm switching out my candlessss even though it is still a hellscape where I am and will feel like living on the surface of the sun until November.

I missed your AMA so can I ask now? What's the most embarassing thing that's happened to you in recent memory? Bc I flew home for a wedding and although it was for the son of beloved family friends (the son i also consider a brother figure), some people should not get schwasty in public bc the father of the groom came over loudly proclaim/lament that he wished *i* was becoming his daughter in law instead. At his son's wedding to a very sweet lady I adore. Five separate times. With people all around. I wanted to return 2 the sea. I wanted to be left alone in a corner with the 6 ebooks I had downloaded. I literally hid in a restroom for 75 minutes and risked everybody thinking I had The Shits just so I could get some peace to myself.

Anyways, before I go I am going to leave you with some of the final product of the cake I was telling you about that I was testing different components for. I really wish I could actually share with y'all instead of just telling you and cate about it in chats but until wonkavision is invented I'll pretend sending a pic is the same thing. I settled on double vanilla brown butter cake/pickled cayenne strawberry compote/yuzu and lemon curd liquid cheesecake/graham milk crumb. The layers didn't come out as cleanly as I'd hoped but I might try another one with white and yellow peaches (macerated? Cooked into a jam or Japanese style syrup?) and a Mango curd to squeeze every last bit of summer fruit season out.

If kita-non is around and for some reason bothers to read my inane prattle can i pls share a slice with u too. The couple times I got to skim your thoughts these past few weeks I was spending time offline I wanted to give your brain a big ole squeeze. Just lookin' at the pair of you with hearts in my eyes like look at u guys go torturing us with sweet sweet kita thoughts. We can pretend he supplied the fruits used in the cake ❤

I'M SO HAPPY YOU'RE BACK 😭🫶!!!!!

i was still feeling quite cruddy over labour day weekend, but i DID go hunt down the CVS puffer jacket snoopy plushie....a personal accomplishment 😂 (he was hard to find!). also i’m planning to bust out my giant totes of halloween decorations this weekend!!! my fall candles are staring at me adoringly from the closet ready to take over.

I AM SO SORRY FOR YOUR MISFORTUNE????? i cannot believe. i, too, would have called the bathroom my new home to never be perceived again. (has anyone informed sober!dad of his big drunk mouth????)

so this is secondhand embarrassment until i come up with a better story BUT i was on a zoom meeting at work today, and a man was pitching software to my boss & i. said man realized 40 minutes in that the software actually isn’t even available in my geographical region and thus he had completely wasted our time. i watched his soul leave his body through the screen. the most awkward goodbye followed.

also if i magically appear in your pocket at some point like a tiny creature with its hands out begging for food, it’s because every time you describe something you’ve made, i yearn like no tomorrow. that soup sounds divine?? AND THE CAKE!!!!! THE CAKE!!!!!!!! it’s beautiful. it puts other cake to shame. i will dream of this cake. it will haunt me.

[tobiasdrake]

Time to start up the sixth chapter, Chapter 4!

By process of elimination, I get to hang out with Vivia this time around. Who might be planning to slit my throat with a box cutter. Which. I mean. I have murdered quite a lot of people, so fair's fair. I'm not gonna fault him that.

I'm so excited!

Last we saw these characters, Kurumi was dragging Yuma away to "investigate". Nice to see Halara realized someone should go chaperone those two kids and make sure they stay on-task.

Or Yakou had a moment to sit down and go, "Wait, did I just assign Yuma-supervision duties to the rando? She might actually be an enabing influence. Halara, please fix my terrible mistake."

(She is, in fact, an enabling influence.)

My money's still on Dohya District. I think they flooded Dohya on purpose to disguise the entrance to their secret lab. Creating a place that would be supremely difficult to access. Or, at least, it would be for anyone who did not own a submarine.

Is this seriously our plan? Just walk around the city knocking on doors and going, "Hi, is this a secret lab? No? Okay, have a nice day."

Halara's offering this up as evidence that the secret lab must exist. If it wasn't real, why would they be trying so hard to hide it from us?

But. Like. Disgruntled ex-Amaterasu staff launched a terrorist attack against the city, like, yesterday - and Yomi got blue-balled over it in the middle of his big "taking down the terrorists" moment.

There are reasons why Yomi might be going on a law-and-order purge of disgruntled ex-Amaterasu staff right now other than "He wants to keep us from finding the secret lab." Does he even know that we know about the lab? That's not something anyone ever told us; Vivia happened to overhear it while using whatever remote-viewing or bird's-eye Forte he has.

Yomi doesn't have much reason to suddenly panic and go, "Oh shit, the Master Detectives are gonna find the secret lab!'' and then start activating extreme-measures contingencies like Halara's implying.

Well. Unless the new sub's bugged like Halara suggested. Hmm.

You fucking poser. I know you're only saying that to look cool. I know that because you do all kinds of flashy shit, most of which involves beating cops within an inch of their life and occasionally drowning them in the river.

Which, by the way, is extremely cool. You set out every morning to look as badass as humanly possible, and you succeed. I would tip my hat to you but it's a floofy piece of fabric that doesn't tip.

I do not, as a matter of fact. However, before you continue, I will say that a restricted area is where I would most expect a secret facility to be. Of any kind. That seems like the logical location. Why have we been knocking on doors in Kamasaki all morning if a place called "The Restricted Area" exists?

Waste of my fucking morning. Y'all owe me a breakfast burrito KANAI WARD SIGNATURE MEAT BUN.

You have a lot of courage and spirit, Kurumi. And an impressive ability to dodge cops. But your judgment needs work. Holy shit.

Why are you only bringing this up now? How long have you been sitting on this? You have not been a very good informant, Kurumi.

"They're doing strange experiments on homunculi somewhere in the city but no one knows where or what or how. We need to learn more."

"I mean, there's a forbidden zone that no one is ever, ever allowed to enter but the corpses of the dead are allegedly being trucked in there for mysterious reasons. Weird, huh? Anyways, no idea about those homunculi. I'll see if I can find anything out."

This is something you should have told me about on the rooftop, when you were first telling me that homunculi are a thing. I'm super mad at you right now. We could have all been choking to death from toxic gas days ago.

SHAME ON YOU. Not one minute ago you were saying

And now that we have a lead, you're like, "Mm, nope, sounds fake." You don't even follow your own advice; You just say things to look cool, you fucking poser.

Yeah, that's right, I caught you posing.

I don't know if I trust you to handle this yourself anymore. Maybe you should take Kurumi with you. She's bad at making logical connections but she has an open mind, so you two can cover each other's shortcomings.

I mean. Yeah. Despite everything, they truly are.

[angeli-marco-writes]

Tom Felton - Baby on the Brain

A/N - First request! I hope this is what you wanted, I really like this idea. I don’t know Tom, nor do I claim to, and the other characters are fictional figments. To celebrate 100 followers, I'm uploading this early. Thank you!

Warnings - overloads of fluff, mentions of baby sick, mild language, slight angst, hints to a breeding kink whoops, lightly implied smut.

Summary - Visiting Tom’s brother and his new baby should be a walk in the park, really, but some unwitting truths come to ahead that you can’t refute. You’ve always wanted a family, but does Tom? (Request for Tom Felton: you guys meet his brother's new baby and then decide to have your own.)

Tom’s bruised knuckles rap thrice against the oak wood of his brother's front door, squeezing your smaller, trembling hand in his, running his fingers over the band of the ring in pride of place. Taking a deep breath in sync with yours, he turns his twinkling blue eyes towards you, lending you a twitch of a reassuring smile.

“Why are you so nervous? It’s only my brother,” he says, his voice gruff following the cigarette he smoked in the car.

“It’s the baby I wanna see,” you breathe, “less nervous, more jittery.”

“Maybe you should’ve gone for tea this morning instead of a double shot coffee.”

You nudge his ribs with your elbow, and then his overly sensitive hip bone with yours, coaxing a gentle chuckle from his lips, “Maybe I wouldn’t have needed it if you hadn’t kept me up so late.”

The devilish, shit-eating grin creeping onto his lips tells you that he feels no remorse, but then again, you’d take tiredness and a night like that over anything. His fingers twine tighter around yours as footsteps begin to shuffle behind the door, followed by an ear-piercing, blood-curdling screech, absolutely unholy.

“See he’s having fun with the kid, then?” you begin to whisper, but your words trail off as Tom’s very exhausted looking brother appears in the doorway, feeding bottle in hand, burping rag over his shoulder, deep purple bags beneath his eyes.

“Alright mate?” Tom greets, stepping one loafer-clad foot over the threshold, offering his brother a man hug.

“Tired, yeah. How you doing, man?” he responds warmly, patting Tom’s back.

“I’m good, I’m good, Jon.” Tom says, though you can feel him almost imperceptibly tense beside you.

Turning ever so slightly, all eyes are cast on you. Naturally, you offer Tom’s brother your warmest smile, teeth and all, sympathy welling both in your eyes and your heart. Kids must be tough if he looks like this with a three-week old.

“And who’s this?” Jonathan asks, sweetly, inquisitive more than anything, though he does look at you a bit peculiarly, scrutinising you, perhaps your outfit, the mom jeans you paired with a cropped cardigan perhaps not his style.

“This is my fiancée, Y/N.” Tom says, his words holding an inflection or pride perhaps, but whatever it is, it sends a pang of excitement shooting down your spine, a smirk creeping its way onto your lips, one you have to bite back, “I’m sorry I haven’t bought her over before, but you know what it’s like.”

“Yeah, course. Nice to meet you.”

“And you! Where’s the baby?”

Tom chuckles softly, and he curls his arm around your body, hip to hip. “She loves kids.”

Jonathan stands aside, a welcoming hand to beckon you into his home, the laminate floors covered in baby commodities, pastel blankets strewn everywhere, but other than, surprisingly clean considering Tom mentioned his brother was a hoarder and was always the most untidy of the bunch all throughout their youth. Considering how bad Tom is and how often you’re stuck cleaning away his dirty dishes and putting his laundry on, you were expecting far worse, but maybe Tom was the worst of them all along.

He tickles between your ribs as you wander through the halls, greeted in the back room by a tiny blonde headed baby, cradled in two arms of a just as exhausted looking lady donning a kind smile, stars dancing in her eyes as she stares down at her temporarily placated child. Tufts of blonde hair pair with enamoured hazel eyes to compliment the soft yellow of their clothes and the rosiness of their chubby cheeks. The hair, the nose, the tiny dimples; this baby looks just like Tom - and all his brothers - did when they were little dots themselves. The same little treasures. You, however, were an unattractive baby compared to this ball of sunshine.

“This is Ainsley.” Tom’s sister in law says lazily, her words falling off as she gapes in adoration at the gurgling blob of joy in her embrace. “And I’m Zara.”

“I’m Y/N.” you smile widely.

Should he not know better, Tom would quite possibly think you’re going to either collapse of hyperventilate, judging by the flush of your cheeks, your elevated pulse, heart beating out of your chest, the tiny, delightful, desperate whimpering noises from the back of your throat, elicited from a single glance into the babies eyes.

Said baby begins to make some indistinguishable noises and flails its arms around faintly, feebly, in your general direction. You’d be lying if your heart didn’t do a somersault in your chest.

“M- may I hold Ainsley?” you stammer out, extending your covered arms in a similar cradle to that of Ainsley’s mother.

“God, you’d be doing me a right favour,” she retorts, her accent broad, Geordie.

She shuffles softly down the pale green sofa, so perfectly complimenting the oak floors, to make a room for you that you take gratefully, and position yourself astutely against the back of the sofa. Before retrieving the baby, though, Tom grasps for a muslin cloth and affectionately drapes it over you, affectionate in the manner that he does it with such care, grazing his thumbs over your collarbones as he goes, ever so gently, barely even a touch, but enough to let you know he’s there. He holds your gaze for a moment, his lips twitching into a smile. This alone sends butterflies to your stomach and sets a sheen of fog about your head, taking you even more by surprise when the baby is laid in your arms, writhing and smiling and blinking so sweetly.

“Hiya darling,” you coo, “aren’t you just the most precious thing.”

“Gender neutral name and clothing...” Tom interjects, sidling up on the arm of the sofa beside you, “may I ask their sex and the pronouns you’re using?”

“Male, but we’re trying to be as gender neutral as possible so they can grow up not feeling pressured.”

You can’t wipe the beam from your face, or prevent the small ‘awwh!’ from escaping under your breath, curling the cloth slightly around the child, “That’s a wonderful attitude. Tommy, would you fetch my bag from the car, please?”

In a second, he’s bouncing up, his hand thrust deep in his chinos to fish for the car key. “You asked me to grab it before we got out as well, sorry sweetheart. Back in a minute.” With a nod to his brother, he’s racing out the door, his footsteps thundering through the house. Your attention, however, remains glued to the baby.

“Would you like me to set them down for tummy time afterwards, or is he going back to sleep?” You ponder aloud, eyes glued to the wry tufts of hair so soft and silky between your fingers.

“If he falls asleep in your arms, that’s fab. We’re just livin’ minute by minute.”

You release a small laugh, “Fair enough.”

Jon sits beside you tentatively, between yourself and his wife, his arm wrapping around her as she leans her body weight against him, her hair--held in a bun before, now just kind of flopping into her eyeline--tickling her shoulder and causing him to wince a little.

“How do you know so much about babies?”

The sigh you don’t mean to release is wistful at best, plain pining at worst--and probably most obvious. “I’ve always wanted them, kids, but Tommy’s the first guy I’ve settled down with, but despite being engaged, we’re still taking things slowly.”-- You shrug, as best as you can with the baby in hold, and cock your head to the side to peer down better at every tiny freckle on Ainsley’s skin.--“I love him to bits, but he wants to wait, and I’m still young, a good chunk younger than he is.”

“If it helps,” he starts, “I’ve never seen Tom as in love with someone as he is you. He’s besotted. You say the word, he’ll do it.”

“I know. I just don’t want to make him do anything unless he’s 100% sure.”

“And that’s what makes you his perfect girl.”

Your heart swells. There’s a beat, a pause of silence, filled only with the zapping of the car outside, no more than a couple of seconds before Jon’s wife speaks again.

“Enough of that. Show us the ring!”

If they’re all this excitable at something as simple as your engagement ring, perhaps you’ll fit in with his family better than you anticipated. ** Certainly, if their amiable gasps are anything to go by as you display your hand to them, your ring finger held out, supporting Ainsley’s head in the crook of your elbow as they gawk at the diamond glistening in the sunlight streaming in from their floor-to-ceiling patio doors. You have to admit it’s a pretty damn beautiful ring, the one you always dreamed of. An oval cut 0.5ct diamond held in place by a delicate split-shank 18ct gold band. It glows ethereally in whatever light there is, but most spectacularly in Tom’s eyes.

“It’s the most gorgeous ring,” she gushes, “apart from mine.”

A smile creeps its way in. You’re not entirely sure what the hell you’ve done right in your life to deserve this incredible, expensive ring, or even Tom for that reason. This is the life you’ve always dreamed of, the one that Tom’s brother has, and if you’re even half as happy as they are after being married for 5 years then you’ll consider your life to be a great success. You always wanted the quiet family life in the suburbs, with a lovely house and a nice garden and a couple of kids, working a part time job that pays well and allows you time for your children and your husband… then you fell in love with him. Loving Tom, though, that’s the true gift in your life, and you’d take him over that life any day. He’s the best, truly.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive, since Tom comes puffing into the room, his heavy footsteps coming to a halt in the doorway as he hands over your abnormally large handbag.

“Here,” he gasps, but turns his gaze upon your hand, witnessing their marvelling at the rock he put there, “it is a pretty boss ring, isn’t it? Worth every penny.”

He bends down to ghost a kiss over your lips, his slightly long dark-blonde hair tickling your cheeks, smiling warmly down at you before deciding to sidle up next to you in the small gap between you and the arm of the sofa. However, half way down, his hip bones are digging in, and he winces up like he’s just been shocked. You know how sensitive his hip bones are, a fat you use against him incredibly often for all the best reasons, but today, he’s been so good, and you shan’t make him sit uncomfortably.

Keeping your hold on Ainsley--who’s almost asleep already, quieter than he was before with only faint gurgles escaping, their eyes droopy--steady, you begin to stand, and shuffle yourself up a bit, allowing Tom to take your previous seat, before placing yourself back down with as little ‘umph’ as you can manage, hooking your thigh over tom’s in the process. He knows what to do, it’s always been your calling card at home or at a party: as soon as you sling your leg over his, he pulls you into his lap eerie time, and today is no different. Well, perhaps it is, as he furrows his dark eyebrows inquisitively, gazing adoringly at you and the child in your arms, waiting for your nod okay before he hitches his arms around your waist and tugs you, as gently as he possibly can with his delicate grip, into his lap, giving you both ample space.

“Babe,” you whisper, “can you fetch the gift out of my bag?”

He’s instantly ferreting around until he finds the presents you neatly wrapped in polka dot paper, and hands them to Jonathan. Eagerly, they're unwrapped, and it seems that your many arguments over what to get Tom’s niece or nephew were worth it, considering the fact their eyes begin to brim with tears.

A soft grey elephant plush, holding a yellow heart, embellished with ‘Ainsley Felton, love Uncle Tom’, and a Peter Rabbit china crockery set for when they’re older.

“Thank you,” Zara exclaims, the way only a mother can, in gracious relief, “they’re adorable, so perfect.”

And before you know it, both you and Tom are being embraced wholeheartedly, as though you’re already their family. It’s been a life since anyone besides Tom hugged you, but this, this is nice.

“Well, lunch?”

Said lunch is a tumultuous affair, with a delivery pizza being ordered from the local dominoes, but with Ainsley so comfortable and calm in your arms, it was an elected decision not to move him, and instead, Tom fed you your pizza. It isn’t the first time, his love language seems to be feeding you things, but normally it's strawberries or chocolate truffles. Never before have you covered an entire medium pizza being fed to you while trying to avoid dropping any toppings or tomato sauce onto a peaceful baby, but that is just an indicator for the rest of the afternoon, Tom’s hands or eyes never once leaving you.

Completely accidentally, Jonathan and his wife drift off to sleep. You smile sadly at the sight, unable to blame them, they must be knackered, the problem simply lies in the fact that Ainsley begins to stir just as they drift off.

“See if there’s any milk in the fridge, please, I think they’re using formula.” you hiss to Tom, standing up cautiously.

Aghast, he grapples for words, “I-I’m sorry, what?!”

“Forget it,” you sigh, “take the baby and change him, please.”

“Change him?!” Again, that same tone of staggered surprise. “I don’t know how!”

“You have four nieces and nephews already, yes you do. He’s going to start screaming in a minute and wake your very tired, very groggy brother. Change the baby.”

When your eyes begin to thin, nostrils flaring, eyebrows raising, he knows not to mess with you, so he swallows thickly, his throat bobbing up and down, and scoops a crying Ainsley from your arms. As he treads upstairs, you find your way back into the kitchen, and find on the counter the bottles done with their sterilisation. This is okay, this is great, you know how to do this, and years of babysitting taught you exactly how to do this. It’s almost like that scene from Outnumbered, assembling the bottle with your eyes closed, muscle memory taking over from your brain. When your eyes flutter open, you almost let out a little squeal at your achievement. If only you could learn this all over again, have this life with a little child of your own, with Tom being as good a dad as he’s acting right now. When you handed him the baby, though, you couldn’t help but notice the fear that flashed over his face, paling him a shade, his pupils dilating to erase the blue. You wish he wasn’t so scared…

A few minutes later, with the kettle boiled and the formula made, you appear in the front room where Tom is swaddling Ainsley, holding the bean against his beating heart, making only the very slightest movements to entertain them.

“Give him a bit of tummy time while the milk cools, do you want to feed him?” you offer, stepping over the threshold .

“N-no,” he exhales slowly, “I think you’d best do that. Can I just put them down?”

“I’ll grab the mat from the corner”--you spied it as you walked in, a colourful crinkle mat rolled up and tucked away from view against the cream walls, behind the flat-screen on its grand stand--“and then yeah.”

Even as he puts Ainsley down, stomach first, onto the playmat, he looks petrified. Taking a seat on the floor to watch over them, you tug on Tom’s tan trouser leg. Indecisiveness gnaws at him, tugging him away from you, but he concedes to your widened puppy eyes, and tumbles onto the shag pile rug next to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders like its second nature.

“You okay?” you whisper.

“Yeah, course. You?”

“Yeah.”

You let your head fall to his arm, a blissful smile creeping its way onto your lips when Ainsley looks you dead in the eye, hazel orbs twinkling, full of hope.

“I love you.”

“I know,” he hums, “I love you too.”

“Then why are you being so… prickly with me today?”

He shifts away from you the most miniscule amount, “I’m not.”

“We’ve been together for years, Tom. I know when you’re bloody lying.” you lower your voice for the final words, “now tell me why you’re being such a pouty puss.”

You mimic his frown, knowing full well that he hates it when you do so. He hates seeing you sad, even if it's just pretend, so makes a swooping move to kiss the frown away.

“Would you leave me if I said I didn’t want kids?” his voice breaks on the final word, little more than a whisper, but his next move is so animated that it almost startles you with the bottle in hand. “I mean, you know I want them. I love kids, I want us to have a family, but…”

“Nothing would ever make me leave you, Tom. You couldn’t do anything that’d cause me to fall out of love with you.”

The pain in your statement sends a shock through you, singing your heart, poisoning your mind, sending a sour bile running up your throat. No matter how many daggers shoot at your heart, it remains to be true. You’d do anything for him. If, tomorrow, he turned around and said he wanted the two of you to stay together but never marry and never have children, you wouldn’t back down without a fight, but you’d accept it. Despite all your lifelong hopes, nothing trumps Tom.

“I’m gonna feed Ainsley now.”

Picking the baby up from the rug, you put a bib around his neck, and throw another cloth around you, taking a seat in the corner chair to feed him.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” he says, and walks out, shoulders slumped.

You watch him wistfully as he leaves the room, and even when he returns--refusing to look at you--your gaze is still trained on his every move, slumping into the shag pile rug to watch the TV on a low volume. You can feel his eyes on you, that burning pair of eyes that follow you everywhere, your every movement, his ears honed, trained to your every shift and whisper. The second you turn upon him though, he’s looking away.

“I’ll put Ainsley down now,” you announce after burping him, “we need to leave soon if we want to make it home before dark.”

He doesn’t even bat an eye as you sashay past him, Ainsley’s cries muffled by a dummy, but the second he hears your footsteps heading back downstairs, his own begin to thunder, pounding against the stairs to meet you halfway.

“Wait,” he whispers, “come on, sit down, talk to me. I love you.”

A sigh heaves your chest, “I love you too. Talk about what?”

“You’re being arsey with me.”

“Because you said you don’t want kids!”

“Well I didn’t mean it, I’m just”--he pinches the bridge of his nose, and ushers you up on the stairs, your calves hitting the carpet--“there’s a lot to think about. We just met the kid, and I saw how your face lit up when you held him.”

“You know I want kids, Tom.”

“I know, but can we not talk about kids for a second? I want to talk about you. You’re my fiancée, I want to make you my wife. I’m just scared.”

“What of? You have nothing to be scared of. I’ll be here no matter what.”

“That’s why I’m scared!” he exasperates, flailing his arms about, “I don’t want you to senselessly follow me and love me if I can’t give you what you want. I’m scared of fucking this up, fucking you up. I’m scared of this going wrong, with children or marriage or saying something wrong, because I can’t lose you.”

“Tom,” you murmur.

Your hand flies up to cup his jaw, grazing your thumb over the stubble growing there, the faintest shadow.

“I love you. I- I need you. Y/N, sweetheart, please. I just wanna stay how we are, just stay this way for a bit, slow down because the world is moving too fast, and I’m gonna fall, but I can’t drag you down with me.” he croaks, cradling your neck with trembling, callused hands. “Can we stay how we are? Just us? Just you and me?”

“Babe you aren’t gonna lose me. Everything else off the table, we’ve got this, we’ve got us. We can stop the world and get off if that's what you want. Nothing is immediate, everything can wait.” you promise, your eyes boring into his.

All at once, his lips come crashing down onto yours, swallowing any inhibitions with his lavishing tongue, his hot breath slanting and fanning over your lips, leaving innocent adoration in their wake. Until a piercing scream resounds.

“Except maybe that.”

You duck from his grip skilfully, and slip into Ainsley’s room, two fingers reaching out to tickle their stomach, causing the scream to hiccup in their throat momentarily. Then, as if wondering what to do next, he just stares up at you imploringly, questioningly.

“Come on Ainsley, I just set you down to sleep. Be good and let mummy and daddy sleep too, okay?” you coo, tucking his blanket back up to his neck, slipping his cuddly toy closer, “go back to sleep.”

This child is already one with an attitude, you can tell that by the vehemence with which he yells out. You don’t even have to think twice before you’re stooping into the cot, swathing him in blankets, and lifting him to your bosom, where his screams fall to mere gurgles.

“Do you think he’s sleeping in the bed with them?” you ask Tom, keeping your voice at a steady whisper even with the slight bounces you’re offering the baby, “because I think that causes parental problems above all else because they’re being kicked in the back all night. Still, decreases the risk of SIDS. Why do they have a cot up if they are? He can’t sleep without contact…”

You don’t even realise you’re thinking aloud until Tom presses his thumbs into your shoulders, buckling your whole body. It’s the instant tension reliever, truly, and your shoulders do seem tighter today, perhaps from all the baby wrangling.

“Lets just sit, shall we?”

You do, taking up refuge in the front room once again, with an extra blanket of his, as well as a supply of cuddly toys, rattles, and dummies. Tom watches you with fascination for the rest of the afternoon, everything you do drawing his full attention; enticing, entrapping. His heart swells at the sight of you bouncing Ainsley around to make him laugh, cooing and giggling with him to coax a smile back after a wail that you hushed down, holding him so closely as he sleeps. He’s finally seeing it, after all these years, you, in your true home habitat, caring for a child, so kindly, so motherly, so naturally. Everything you do instantly seems to set the infant at ease. He knows it should be him, Ainsley is his nephew, but… you’re just better.

In fact, before he even realises it, he’s craving what he doesn’t have. Not that he can’t have it -- you’ve been together for a long time, you’ve discussed a future with children more times than he can count, and of course he wants it. Tom, he’s always wanted to be a dad, to read his kids books and sing them lullabies and show them what daddy did for work… but it's always been a pipe dream. Your wishes of a family have never come to fruition, and all because of his selfish fears.

The world can’t stop turning just because he’s getting cold feet and wants to climb off for a minute to catch his breath. That’s not how life works. If you want something, you’ve gotta grab it by the balls, because the opportunity will be gone before you know it. And with Tom? He won’t lose you because he won’t take a chance to make you happy and give you what you want. If anything, seeing the crestfallen look that settles between your brows when you actually have to give Ainsley back to their parents just further instils and confirms the idea in his head. There’s his future, in his mind's eye, as clear as day. This is what he needs to do, but better still, this is what he wants.

The drive back to your home is spent in relative silence, and a pensive one at that. You know like instinct that Tom is replaying your final conversation with Jonathan and his wife the same way you are. After all, the simple words did put a dampener on your reconciliation. Your hand is on the gearstick the whole way, though, your fingers entwined with his, the simple contact enough for you. You were right at lunch: all day it's been his hands or his eyes on you: you like it when it's both simultaneously, the way it was when you said your goodbyes.

Tom’s hands settled on your hips, his chin atop your head, and you just fell into his enveloping warmth, smiling lazily at the couple you rescued for the afternoon.

“Thanks so much, we owe you one.” Jonathan said, giving Tom another one of those manly hugs as you stand in the dusk-darkened wooden porch.

“Really,” Zara chimed in, her feet shuffling on the tiled floor as she held her husband's hand, “you’re welcome to have him any time. That is, of course, if you don’t have a little one of your own by the time you’ve recovered from that blighter.”

You forced a dry chuckle at her words, an awkward sound, but you seemed to recover well enough, “Well Ainsley’s been a pleasure, and I’m glad we could give you some respite. Take care.”

“And you. Drive safe.”

“We will,” Tom said, offering them a smile, flashing his keys, keeping his grip on you resolute, “thanks for having us.”

Their words still loom over you like a dark cloud. It was a throwaway comment, one they’d have thought nothing of, and most people, and even you on a good day, but you’d had that… spat earlier on that changed everything. Dredging it up would just put an even further dampener on your mood, though, and with a drive home in the semi-darkness already hanging over you like a massive impending storm cloud of fear, that’s definitely not ideal.

“Nice baby, Ainsley,” Tom mentions, turning his indicator on to pull off the dual carriageway.

“Yeah, and he’s cute.”

“Nice eyes.”

And a couple more comments like those are the only conversation you share as the journey goes by, but soon enough, you’re on the home stretch, and your street rolls into view. With your head comfortably rolled back against the headrest, your eyes shut from a tiring day of exertion and childminding , you don’t notice Tom stepping out the car and unravelling his grip from you. Only does it become apparent when he opens your door and unclips your seat belt, kissing your lips tenderly, the chapped skin arising you from whatever zoned out, thoughtful state you were in before.

“Come on, let's get you inside sweetheart.” he murmurs, taking your hands in his as he helps you out the car, His chivalry never fails to astound you--he even carries your bag.

“Thanks darlin’.”

You follow him inside, kicking off your shoes routinely, shrugging off your coat to hang on the peg with your name etched above it. What happens next, though, is what shocks you the most: this isn’t part of your normal ‘returning home’ routine, not if you’ve had a day as tiring as this one. You’re neither complaining nor disappointed, though. How can you be when Tom’s lips latch onto your pulse point and he has you writhing in seconds, only his arm around the small of your back there to support you.

In one fell swoop, he has you spun around and pinned to the wall, his figure with lust-blown eyes hovering above you, every line in his face so loving, even the subtle part of his lips. They only do that when he’s so desperate to kiss you he can barely breathe, when he’s so eager to confess his love again and again that all other words are inconsequential. This is your Tom.

“Let’s try for a baby.” he says, completely resolutely, no trace of hesitation anywhere in his perfectly, delectably gruff tone. “I want one, I want us, and I don’t wanna wait to build a family with you.”

You can feel tears begin to form in the corners of your shock-widened eyes. This… this is- What changed his mind? Just hours ago, he was hell bent against the idea, but now? His cheeks are glowing at the mere prospect. Courtesy and patience be damned, that is if you can get the words out with how choked up you are…

“Really? Y-you mean it?”

His faint smile widens into a full blown grin, one that confirms everything for you. This is it, this is the Tom you agreed to marry, the happy Tom, the smiley Tom, the one who can barely contain his excitement even as he nods, a stray lock of dark blonde hair falling into his eyes as he does so.

Reasonably, you can’t be expected to hold back, and when his hair gets long enough that it falls into his eyeline? That’s your main weakness, so who can blame you when you catapult yourself up onto him, your legs joining around his wait, your arms settling around his neck. He holds you right back, catches you like he was already waiting, and pins you against the wall again. Perhaps the serotonin is too much as you both grin into a searing kiss, the every press of his lips against yours holding more passion than you can fathom a cohesive thought about. He’s… incredible.

And besides, with this enthusiasm, his kiss alone leaving you gasping and clutching onto his hair for some kind of grounding, perhaps it’ll be the first time lucky…

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 21

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

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

Chapter Index

Chapter 21 - This Venerable One Will Tell You a Story (Part 3)

Yao Qianjin had quite a temperament. When she got back, she didn't even think about eating and went straight to pestering her father to inquire about Chen Bohuan. Although Chen Bohuan was already married, it was done behind closed doors. Who knew about it? Even when their marriage had been arranged, the town never knew about their relationship.

So Yao Qianjin learned that the eldest Chen son "wasn't married yet."

The county magistrate made several inquiries and found that Xiao Chen was capable, gentle-tempered, and his familial situation was good, so he sent someone to talk to the Chen family about the marriage.

Mr. Chen was filled with regret. They politely told the county magistrate they would think about it first. They closed the door and the two old people immediately started to quarrel.

Mr. Chen said: "Look what you've done! The poor scholar died early and his daughter should have mourned him for three years. If you hadn't been in such a hurry for them to get married, our son wouldn't have to regret it now! Look at what happened!"

Madam Chen was also anxious: "You're blaming me? Weren't you the one who wanted to arrange the marriage in the first place? Now there's a better option: the daughter of the county magistrate! Can. . . can Luo Xianxian compare to that?"

The two elders closed the door and quarrelled until they were red in the face. At the end of the quarrel, they were exhausted and panting across the table from each other.

Mr. Chen asked: "What should we do? Should we call back the magistrate?"

Madam Chen said: ". . . We can't do that. Our family is relying on Yao Qianjin's money."

Mr. Chen said angrily: "Then will the daughter of the Yao family be a concubine? Will she? Our son already has somebody, how can we add another? Look at how in love they are!"

". . ." Madam Chen didn't say anything for a while. Her eyes suddenly lit up, and she murmured, "If you think about Luo Xianxian and our son, except for our family, no one knows about them. . ."

After a few moments of silence, Mr. Chen was shocked when he suddenly understood his wife's intentions.

He was trembling, half from panic, half from anger.

"You - you mean. . ."

"If no one knows about it, it doesn't count as a real marriage." Madam Chen said. "Let's try to find a way to get rid of her. We can do whatever it takes. All the surrounding villages think he's unmarried. Do you remember how she stole oranges from us as a child? As long as we all stick to that story, no one would believe her word over ours!"

Mr. Chen strode to the door, confirmed that the door was closed tightly, and hurriedly rushed over. The two people who had been arguing like two chickens in a cockfight were nestled together again, quietly lowering their voices, and discussed.

Mr. Chen said: "This method of you, I'm afraid it won't work."

"What's wrong?"

"Our son won't agree. He's had a crush on Luo Xianxian his whole life. Why would he agree to drive her away for someone else?"

Madam Chen thought for a while. She patted her husband's hand and said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

After a while, Madam Chen suddenly became seriously ill. It was a strange illness. The doctor couldn't explain the reason, but she just would have fits all day and talked nonsense, saying she was possessed by a ghost.

Mr. Chen was terrified so he asked a Daoist priest to come. He carried a whisk on his back and said that there was something negative in the Chen family directed at Madam Chen. If it wasn't resolved, Madam Chen wouldn't make it to the new year.

Chen Bohuan, who was the most filial, anxiously asked: "What attacked my mother?"

The Daoist priest pretended to be mysterious and hesitated for a while. He said it was a "beauty who couldn't see the light of day."

Everyone in the room froze. The Chen family's sons all turned to look at Luo Xianxian standing on the side.

Luo Xianxian also froze.

She has been told many times when she was a child that her life is cursed. She brought tragedy with her. As soon as she was born, she killed her mother, then her brother, and later her father.

Now, she was being accused again, saying that she was going to kill her mother-in-law.

The Chen family was petrified. The sons took turns telling her to leave the Chen family. Besides, no one outside the family knew that she was married and had an innocent reputation. They would give her some money and let her find another good family.

Luo Xianxian was anxious and afraid. She was really worried that she was killing Madam Chen and she couldn't control her tears.

Chen Bohuan was heartbroken. As he watched his mother grow weaker, he was caught between a rock and a hard place. He didn't want to leave Luo Xianxian, but he couldn't bear to watch his mother suffer. She had lost so much weight in such a short amount of time.

The brothers of the Chen family quit trying to be civil. One day, while their elder brother was away, they sought out their sister-in-law. Luo Xianxian was mixing butterfly fragrant powder in the greenhouse. They rushed up and knocked over her utensils. The fragrant powder fell on her. The pungent aroma seemed to instantly seep into her bones and she couldn't wash it off.

The brothers surrounded her and talked about the most important duties, such as "a woman's virtue", how a wife and daughter should be humble, parents should be respected but Luo Xianxian was very tough. Although timid, she was very stubborn. She cried and said she didn't want to leave, begging them to think of another way.

The second son of the Chen family was impatient so he went up and slapped her. He said: "You're going to kill our mother, you cursed bitch. If there was another way, would your father have died? Would your mother have died? Would your brother be dead or alive?"

As soon as he beat her, the rest of them rushed up, punching and kicking Luo Xianxian, shouting things like "get out", "vermin" and "quick fuck".

These sons had the same idea as their mother. In fact, they had known about their mother's idea for a long time. At this time, taking advantage of their elder brother's absence, they worked together to expel Luo Xianxian from the house. They threatened that if she dared to come back, they would beat her every day. She didn't have a family anyways. If she was beaten to death, no one would care.

It was a snowy night. Luo Xianxian was thrown into the snow covered in bruises and one of the embroidered shoes on her feet had fallen off.

She slowly crawled forward, a muffled choked sob escaping her lips, like the low howl of a dying cub.

It was late at night. Few people would be outside on such a snowy day. She crawled through the vast world, not knowing where she was going, not knowing where else she could go.

The Chen brothers were right.

She had no family; no father, no brother. No one to stand up for her, no one to take her in.

There was nowhere she could go in this white, awe-inspiring world.

Her bones were weak, and she was wearing thin clothes when she was thrown out, so her legs and feet quickly became numb and useless.

Crawling all the way to the outskirts of the city, she came to the earth temple where the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was enshrined. She curled up in the temple to hide from the snow. Her lips were blue and frozen, and her heart felt even colder.

Looking up at the clay statue with gorgeous red makeup, she couldn't stop the tears rolling down her face. It made her think of the rules of the Lower Cultivation World, and how a married couple should have a master of ceremonies to witness it.

At that time, all she had was a red flower hairpin, a beautiful smile and Chen Bohuan kneeling next to her.

Was this closed-door marriage all a big dream? That day, the beauty in the brass mirror was picturesque. Was it just a greedy joy that she had concocted deep in her mind?

She knelt in front of the Master of Ceremonies Ghost, dragging her increasingly heavier and cold body. She bowed three times, crying and laughing.

"Married as husband and wife. No doubt about their love. Rejoice. . . in this. . . tonight. . ."

She started to feel dizzy and her vision was getting blurry.

A thin layer of moonlight seemed to sprinkle in front of her eyes. In the small courtyard from her past, she cried and said: "I didn't steal. I didn't steal. I didn't steal the oranges."

However, three men make a tiger* and everyone was terrified. No one would believe her side of the story.

*(T/N: 三人成虎 - means that the more someone repeats something absurd, the more likely people are to believe it)

To this day, she knew that even if she ran up to every person she saw and screamed that she was Chen Bohuan's wife, no one would believe her. She was still the same little girl as back then, stuck behind the mud wall with no one to share her grievances with.

Nothing had changed.

But there was still that person, looking over the wall, holding a white steamed bun, stuffed into her palm, saying: "If you're hungry, eat a steamed bun to curb your hunger."

Now. . . that person. . . where was he. . .

When he came back and couldn't find her, would he be worried, or would he secretly breathe a sigh of relief because his mother would be safe from her?

Luo Xianxian curled up in the earth temple, eyes dripping with gradually drying tears, and whispered: "Madam Master of Ceremonies, I want to be with him. I'm his wife. . . When we came to the temple, we didn't have a master of ceremonies with us. You're a Master of Ceremonies Ghost. You can't control the living, but I. . . You're the only one I can talk to. . . and I can tell you. . ."

She whimpered in a broken voice, the last sound coming out of her throat: "I didn't lie. . ."

I didn't lie.

The heavy snow was silent, and the long night was quiet.

The next day, the townspeople who passed by the earth temple on the outskirts of the city found Luo Xianxian's cold body.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[falling-pages]

Over and Over, Again and Again: KyoHaru (commission)

The absolutely lovely @ouranbound commissioned me for her birthday. This was so much fun and I just melt every time I read it 🥺 thank you so much sweetheart, I hope your day is magical!!

Info on commissions here (updated!)

-

Despite the heat, despite the outdoors, Kyoya considered it a lovely afternoon, if only for two reasons: he had a book in his hands and Haruhi’s head in his lap.

-

Kyoya Ootori x Haruhi Fujioka

Genre: Fluff

Contains: first I Love Yous, established relationship

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, but no drinking

-

Kyoya did not like being outside. It was often hot and sticky, the sun too bright and burning his skin, or too cold and blustery, the wind too harsh for his delicate constitution. Even refraining from walking to work, using his own driver to commute the blocks. It was silly, yes, and quite wasteful, but he had the money, and all that money allowed him to demand comfort. He never could understand why the others seemed to strain at their leashes to go outdoors--Mori and Hikaru organizing hikes and fishing trips, Tamaki and Kaoru scampering after them. He couldn’t find pleasure in swatting at the sweat running down his back, or cleaning his glasses every few minutes. The outdoors were quite insufferable.

But Haruhi liked the outdoors, and he liked Haruhi.

He supposed it was because of their different upbringings. While he had all the luxury of indoor pools and air conditioning, she didn’t. The outdoors were free; a simple space where commoners could exist without the expectation of spending money. Unlike any mall or restaurant, beneath the sun, the air cost nothing.

So he put up with it whenever she requested it. Her cool touch was more enticing than air conditioning, anyways.

He began to regret it, though, when their wine was no longer chilled. They had arranged a lovely picnic, lounging in a field his father owned. There were plans to develop it, one day, but for now it remained wild. A place where lovers could stow away amid the tall grass waving in the wind.

They sat in the shade of a lemon tree. Remains of rei-shabu and morokyu were stowed away in their picnic satchel, next to the ice pack. Their glasses were still filled with strawberry wine, though their minds and stomachs were too content to have more.

Despite the heat, despite the outdoors, Kyoya considered it a lovely afternoon, if only for two reasons: he had a book in his hands and Haruhi’s head in his lap.

It would have been lovelier in late May or early June, but he had been so busy with the end of the fiscal year. He was afraid of Haruhi’s impending disillusionment, with their relationship still so new, but if she was ever discontent, he knew she would tell him. Dating him had not turned her into a placated doll, as he had feared. He still took care of her, showering her in wealth whenever she asked, but it was rare; mostly, she just wanted to spend time with him, and he just wanted to take care of her, making sure her stomach was full and loans paid.

Not to say he didn’t spoil her, though. He had bought the very dress she was wearing, a strappy yellow thing with magenta stitching. And the gold earrings, shaped like roses on dangling stems, which laid so artfully on the backdrop of her velvet brown hair splayed against his thigh. Her hair was long enough to begin curling slightly at the ends, whenever it wasn’t done up in her tight law school bun.

It was rare he saw her like this, heart unbound and carefree. Her skin was soft beneath his fingertips as he ran them against her cheek, half dreaming, half admiring. She slept in his lap, tuckered out from their afternoon. Lips red from wine pulled back slightly, a whimper on the tip of her tongue. For a moment, he feared had awoken her, hand frozen on her jaw, but she turned her neck back into his leg and resumed her breathing.

He sighed in relief. He had already ruined much in his life. The peaceful portrait beneath him was too pure to interrupt.

Once she was back asleep, he gave one last glance to her blushed cheeks and held up his book. It was old, a brown cover etched with gold, antique and clearly made for a bygone era, tattered pages though born on a press just a few years ago. Kyoya felt like that sometimes. An anachronism of his own kind. Set in one spot and lost to the pages of history.

But not here. A butterfly landed on Haruhi’s nose. Instead of swatting it, he watched, breathed in the life bellowing into his bones. In the world, at work, with his family, his soul felt ancient; his shoulders shook with the weight of an old-world empire. But with her, he was fresh, bathing in the fountain of youth. He was no longer an Atlas, cursed with the weight of the world; he was Dionysus with Ariadne--his shining jewel in the sky.

The love he had for her transcended space and time, yet she was blissfully unaware.

Tamaki’s advice echoed in his ears. He had to tell her eventually, else he’d lose her. Trained in all things etiquette, he still stumbled over even the most human of phrases.

Kyoya shook his head. The day he listened to Tamaki’s advice would be the day he’d resign from the Ootori group. As he returned to his book, his focus shifted. Some old French thing on culture, it mocked his feelings with dry phrases and tiny text. Tamaki had taught him enough French to get by, but reading it was another matter. It was to better himself and improve his chances with foreign business relations, was what he told himself, at least.

Haruhi’s ease and fascination with the language certainly had nothing to do with it. Nor did the jealousy in his palms when he would watch the two he loved most converse and giggle without him.

Some time after he resumed scanning it, regretting how he left his translation dictionary at home, Haruhi awoke. Not with a sigh or startle, as he was accustomed, but silently, with a breath, as if he were the bridge in which she crossed from one world into the next.

She laid still and watched him read, brilliant mind sweeping over each and every word. From the angle of his head tilt, she could see his eyes behind his glasses, a sharp, rare, deep black. Nondescript, and beautiful, the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen--above Tamaki’s lavender, Mori’s silver, the twins’ bronze and amber. She loved them because within their deep pools of tar, she saw her future.

Haruhi didn’t know for how long she looked at him. She had just started to fall back asleep when he spoke.

“I can feel you staring at me,” he murmured, not even taking his sight from the page.

She stayed focused on the smooth, pale skin of his jaw. It clenched and unclenched periodically, whenever he came across a phrase or word he didn’t know. She could have offered her help, but his lap was just too comfortable.

“I like the view,” she shrugged.

When he set the book down, eyes widened, she already knew what he was about to say.

“Out of all the sights, of the trees, flowers, and fields surrounding us, you think me more admirable?”

She was the lawyer--she was the one used to provoking confessions from people--but his cunning as a businessman made the words drip from his lips like honey, accentuating even as he dipped his head down to hers. Haruhi scrambled to shift her weight to her arm, propping herself up to meet his lips. And yet he hovered, smirking as he watched her mouth chase his, quieting her displeased whines with a chuckle.

“What, no answer?”

He was the devil in disguise, with a voice so silver and smooth, and she knew it. But if he were the devil, she was his Persephone--his lips were her pomegranate, and she bit.

She mustered her frustration into finally catching him in a kiss, swatting at his chest when she tasted his beleaguered smirk.

“You know my answer,” she retorted. “I choose you every day, over and over again.”

“I know,” my darling.” He removed his glasses, the only barrier between them, and pressed his forehead to hers. “And for that, I love you.”

He said it. It wasn’t how he planned on saying it, but it was there, suspended in the air by wires thin as twine. Her hand stilled in his hair, but she didn’t remove it.

“That’s the first time you’ve said it,” she breathed, an elation and joy she didn’t know she missed bubbling in her chest.

Kyoya opened his eyes. They had clenched shut on instinct, as protection, so he wouldn’t have to see the way she rejected him. But her calm voice coaxed them back open, and they settled on her lazy smile.

“It is,” he affirmed. “I thought...I thought you knew. It’s been so long.”

They had been dating for three months, yet known each other for nine years, and Kyoya had loved her for most of that. She had loved him for only half that, that she knew, but their affection was ancient, the kind read about in archaic stone tablets. The kind that would wait forever and ever to be discovered again and again.

“I do,” she whispered. “I love you, too.”

And just when he thought his back would break from carrying the world, she kissed away his pain into an immortal love.

-

[oneoftheextras]

brother-in-law | one

yandere shota aizawa x reader

masterlist  | tip jar

from the kinktober requests: “skull, grey, 7″

skull - eraserhead (shota aizawa), grey - yandere, 7 - family

(no incest don’t worry, i needed to think of a way for it to be family & not incest)

Part 1 | Part 2

The family dinner was going well. That was until the topic of politics came up and then your father went off on a rant that wouldn’t finish until desert was served.

It was always strange to have the whole family around your large dinner table, and it was even stranger that your parent’s still kept it considering all of their children had since moved out and gone their own ways.

It was the day before Halloween, and your mom had ordered everyone back to your family home for her annual Halloween party. Old and new family friends would be there as well as long lost cousins and second cousins, and even third cousins - there would be an average of 300 people. The house was big enough.

But tonight was close family time, just parents and siblings.

Well, you and the sibling’s partners and children.

You were the second eldest, but even your younger brother was already happily married with a baby on the way. The inevitability of your great aunt asking when you would settle down tomorrow loomed over your head. But for now, you were eyeing up the pudding.

“And that’s my opinion on that” your father finished before plummeting his fork into the desert, whilst everyone was just relieved the conversation was over. 

You went to follow suit but felt something brush against your shin from the other side of the table, looking up at your sister- who sat opposite you and smiled. She must have accidentally kicked you while rearranging herself in her seat.

Hearing your father clear his throat, you turned your attention back towards him, “How about that teaching job of yours, Shota?” your dad addressed the man sitting next to your sister. He wasn’t quite ready for the question to be thrown at him, so he quickly struggled to swallow the lump of pudding he had put into his mouth only moments before.

“It’s good, rewarding as ever” was all he said, he was a man of very few words, often the person that would silently listen to the rest of the room without barely saying a thing.

Normally his long black hair would flow down to meet his broad shoulders, but as this was a, somewhat, formal occasion he had it pulled back into a bun. He often did this to be respectful, although he wanted to hide in his own hair, it was rude for the rest of the room to not see his face. 

Your sister turned towards her husband, in a semi-whisper “Tell him about the move!” she ordered him, Shota tiredly looked at his wife- your sister- as though this topic was something that had been talked about a million times.

“The move?” your mother chimed in curiously, “You’re not getting rid of that lovely house we bought you, are you?” of course she would be concerned when it came to property.

Your sister huffed and crossed her arms “I would never! It’s a lovely house, it’s just-” your sister cut herself off and turned to stare at Shota with a frustrated look.

Oh no. You knew it was all going too well, here comes the yearly argument that makes everyone uncomfortable for the rest of the night.

Shota glanced between all of the faces staring at him in anticipation, “It’s not that big of a deal” he sounded very calm for someone who was receiving a death glare from his wife. “The school has asked the teachers to be closer to the school for security reasons, so I’m renting an apartment elsewhere for Monday to Friday” he explained.

“But we will have to be apart” your sister whined, to anyone else looking into the situation it would seem like your sister was the youngest of you all when she was actually the eldest. She was definitely the most spoiled.

You continued to listen while eating your pudding, everyone else had stopped to gape at the one-sided argument happening opposite you, you weren’t going to let yours get cold.

“To be honest, it’s better for me anyway, the apartment I found is only a short walk from the school, normally I have to drive for an hour” Shota sipped his drink after he spoke. It was obviously something he had no choice over so he wasn’t stressing himself.

There was a quiet that fell around the table, your sister silently eyed every family member as a way to get them to defend her, but Shota was right.

“Where’s the apartment?” your dad asked out of nowhere, Shota put his drink back down on the table and you watched him lick the remaining residue off his bottom lip “Downtown” was all he said.

You felt his eyes fall on you for a brief second, it was so quick there was no way you could be certain that he even looked at you. “Isn’t that near where your apartment is, Y/N?” your dad asked you, suddenly all eyes were on you.

Letting out a puddling-muffled “Uh-huh”, you gazed towards Shota who’s eyes had gone slightly darker. “That’s good, you can keep an eye on her then, Shota” your dad chuckled, “Make sure she’s not getting into any trouble” he finished before lighting a cigar.

 You were about to protest when you felt something rubbing your leg again, it was slower than before and very gentle, you looked directly at your sister but she wasn’t paying you any attention.

“I’m going to get more champagne” she huffed and stood upright, marching away from the table. The rubbing stopped a few seconds too late to be your sister. Nervously, you looked towards the only other person on that side of the table, and he was already staring back at you.

“I’ll come with you, I need to wash up my dishes anyway” you quickly stood and took your plates with you feeling your face start to burn.

You had always found Shota attractive ever since he first started dating your sister a few years ago, but there was nothing you could do about it other than be jealous that your sister found him first.

By the end of the night you were rather sweaty, everyone was starting to make their way to bed so you decided to hop into the shower. It was bad, but while the hot water was running down your face and body, you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Shota was going to be living a few blocks away from you - alone.

It was wrong to think about him, he was your sister’s husband - your brother in-law. But as long as you didn’t act on anything or tell anyone, it was fine to let your mind drift, right?

When you’d had enough, you wrapped a towel around your body and opened the bathroom door. Your old bedroom was at the end of the hall, opposite the bathroom, and you preferred to get dry in the comfort of your own room. As you passed the doors to your left you heard your dad snoring, surely he hadn’t fallen asleep that quickly.

You glanced down at your watch, which was resting on top of the clothes you were carrying, it was gone 1am - you had been in the shower for over 45 minutes.

Just as you were stood facing your door, you realised that between holding your towel up and carrying your clothes you had no free hand to turn the door handle. At that moment, the door just behind you opened and you heard the faint sound of the floorboards moving.

Immediately, you turned and began to apologise thinking that you’d woken your brother’s pregnant girlfriend - who had previously warned you all about how light of a sleeper she was - “Sorry if I woke you up, I didn’t realise everyone would be-” but it wasn’t her.

“I haven’t gone to sleep yet” Shota said, putting his hands into his pockets after he silently closed the bedroom door behind him, “Oh” was all you said, there was no point in apologising when you hadn’t done anything wrong.

“What took you so long?” he asked out of nowhere, his gaze unmoving from your face as you could feel it heating up. “Just needed to unwind after dinner” you weren’t technically lying, dinner was very stressful.

Shota made an ‘Ah’ sound which told you that he definitely didn’t buy your lie, this man works with children every day, of course he could spot a lie. “What’s the real reason?” he pushed you. Something in his eye told you that he knew, it was probably your paranoia, but his upturned smirk made you anxious.

To change the subject you decided to ask him the first thing that came to mind, “So, where’s your new apartment?” almost immediately he answered you, “The Fitzgerald Estate”. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, “That’s my apartment block” you replied a little shocked.

“I know” he said, taking a few steps towards you, never breaking eye contact. You stayed put, he was probably moving away from the door so you could talk more freely without risking waking up your sister.

“What floor are you?” you asked before you could think, you weren’t sure you wanted the answer. “Four” he continued to make his way towards you, he was getting a bit too close for it to be socially acceptable so you backed up until you couldn’t any longer, “That’s my floor” you breathed, surely it was all coincidence.

“I know” he said again, you stopped yourself before you asked what number but almost as though he read your mind he said “36″, you were number 37 - he would literally be next door. It was going to be extremely hard for you to put your attraction for him aside when you would be seeing him so often.

“That’s-” “Right next door” you started, but he finished. By this point your back was flat against the cold wood and he was towering over you - so close that his chest was against the clothes you were holding.

“Why? How?” you had too many questions and the smell of him was making your senses weaker, “Like your dad said, I need to make sure you’re not getting into trouble” he lifted his hand to wipe away some water that had trickled from your hair and onto your cheek, his fingers were warm against your skin.

“We’ll be seeing a lot of each other” he whispered in a low voice as he let his hand fall to your side, barely brushing your towel-covered hip but it was enough to make your whole body tense.

Suddenly the door opened from behind you, you stumbled backwards and if it wasn’t for Shota’s arm holding you close to his body you would have fallen. He didn’t let go of you straight away, your chest was heaving up and down from the adrenaline of almost falling mixed in with the intimate position you were in.

Slowly, he released you and allowed you to get your footing, “Sleep well” he commented before turning away to return to his room.

The next day you tried to keep your distance, focusing on the numerous tasks that your mother had set for you all: putting up decorations around the house, organising the furniture to open the room up to look even bigger than it already was.

In almost no time at all, the party was in full force and you had managed to avoid Shota entirely. It gave you time to try and get yourself together, but you still couldn’t get around the questions of how he knew exactly where you lived, you hadn’t told anyone, not even your parents.

You were dressed as a porcelain doll, your hair was in two braids and you had a baby blue dress on. To be honest, you were trying to be as close to Annabelle as possible, but you weren’t that good at make up.

Before the party your mom had gone out of her way to tell you that you had to be social, you were sure that she had noticed you sticking to yourself for the majority of the day. To please her, you decided to join the 50 other people that were dancing to the music.

After a while various family members came up to dance with you and talk, well shout, over the music. It was good for a while, until someone snaked their hand around your waist and turned you to face them, taking your hand in theirs in a traditional ballroom style.

“Shota” you grumbled as a greeting, you felt his chest vibrate as he said your name back to you. “You’ve been avoiding me all day” he stated, he was talking so softly that if he wasn’t leaning into your ear you wouldn’t have heard him over the music. You decided it was best for you not to comment on that and continue to pretend your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest.

“I spent so much time and effort to be here and you repay me by avoiding me?” he continued as he moved you quickly in time with the music, “I wasn’t avoiding you, I was busy” you lied, the second time in the last 24 hours. “Too busy for your neighbour?” you could feel him grinning without even looking at his face.

Somewhere from the crowd of people you heard someone say “Ah, isn’t he a good big brother” and it made you feel sick to your stomach, hearing those words paired with how you were feeling about him.

“Why’s your heart beating so hard?” he continued to hound you with questions in an attempt to get some conversation out of you - you tried to step away from him but his grip on your waist got tighter, making you whimper slightly. 

There was no use trying to lie to him, he could feel your ragged breath against him, dancing with you was the perfect excuse to get closer to you. “You’re making me anxious” you made sure to word it in a way that wouldn’t raise too much suspicion. 

“I’m sorry” he sounded sincere, so you reared your head up to look at his face, “I only want to protect you” as he spoke you noticed the fangs attached to his teeth, “A vampire? Really? How original” you mocked his costume. “And a doll is better?” he shot back at you.

He let go of your hand so he could play with one of your braids, he was so gentle that you genuinely believed that he wanted to protect you, “I wonder what noise you would make if I pulled these” he grinned evilly, you were taken back by his complete change in tone. 

Almost as quickly as he had said it, he slowly started to tighten his grip on your hair until a small moan left your mouth, you were lucky that the music was so loud otherwise the people around you would have heard. “Fuck” Shota breathed and you felt his fingers dig into your back for a second.

You took his moment of weakness to break away from his embrace, you headed straight for the back door, not looking back to see what his reaction was.

Taking a seat on the swinging bench outside, you put your head in your hands and tried to steady your breathing. What the Hell were you going to do?

(if you want a part 2 let me know, I had fun writing this)

Taglist:

@mylife-demonstrates-murphys-law @hereticpriest @enagmaticether @anxiousgoddest @kodzu-ken​ @raine-needs-help @waitwhatsrealityagain​  @multifandomshitblog​

[wizkiddx]

...surprise

um okay so here I am trying angst again. this is kind of intended to be open ended bcos might have a part two at some point. im also lazy and has a few time jumps. also if someone could pls explain if you just get pics for the top of these off internet or credit on like gifs or something that’d be appreciated.

Summary: Tom comes home and everything is most definitely not the way he left, nor is it healthy

Warnings: please read with caution esp relationship with food / weightloss, but just generally a person in a bad bad head space, lots of self blame - then next parts will carry different warnings too

************************

Tom had been away for months. Months and months away from his girlfriend, separated entirely by his filming locations in Europe and America; while you were busy slowly and steadily climbing the ranks of your law firm. Being an intense period for the pair, you hadn’t managed to see each other in 2 and a half months.  Of course, both go you were used to this - 3 years deep into a relationship between an actor and a wanna-be lawyer- this was the name of the game.

But honestly? You both just kept falling deeper and deeper, making the separation harder to deal with - rather than getting used to it as one might hope.

That's why Tom felt such an incredibly overwhelming wave of relief as he dumped his bags just outside his front door. Even though he was exhausted from the travelling, just the mere act of finally phishing out his housekeys brought a massive grin to his face - caused particularly by the sight of his tacky little keyring from a Moroccan market that you’d bought him. That had been your first holiday. There’s that old saying that before you move in with someone go on holiday first - Tom understood it to mean you supposedly see all the bad and ugly stuff people can hide from each other, a prewiring before committing to living in the same space. However that holiday all he’d learned was incredible you are to him. To his dying day, Tom will never forget the moment he looked over to his left when the two of you were on this night time stargaze in the depth of the Moroccan desert. Y/n had never seen stars like it, the skies so incredibly clear and lit up with an array of magical blues and purples and whites on its sark background. The sight, for no unexplainable reason, had you completely opening up to Tom about things she’d never told a single soul. And in that moment he’d had this sort of realisation. Not about how much he loved her - because that is just the cliche thing everyone says… and also just wasn’t true.

In that moment he’d rather realised the potential. The sort of ‘I’m not there yet but I know you could become the centre of my universe’. The sort of ‘I’m not ready to say this yet, but I want to spend my life with you’. The sort of ‘at some point in my life I’m not sure my heart will be able to beat without yours’.

He still hadn’t quite got to explicitly saying all that yet, by asking you for the ultimate commitment. But he planned to now he was coming back to you.

Even with the chill of the early evening winter air, Tom was almost ecstatic as he unlocked the door and let himself in. He hadn’t told you that he was coming home, you thought he had another two weeks on the job, but Tom was a bit of an old romantic - he loved seeing your eyes fill with wonder as he surprised you in whatever way. Sometimes it was as simple as a note on the fridge, or a small bouquet from behind his back or as fancy as a surprise holiday.

However, this time, though it was only 6 in the evening, all the lights of their house were off making Tom raise an eyebrow as he quietly slipped off his shoes - not wanting to scare Y/n just in case.

Tom had sworn when he’d been on the phone with you the previous day, you didn’t have any plans tonight but perhaps maybe a spontaneous pub trip and been offered with work colleagues. The house felt a little cold as he padded through it, poking his head into every room just to check Y/n wasn’t there. His last port of call was the bedroom.

By this point, Tom was pretty resigned on the fact you were out and he’d maybe cook a meal for when you got back or hide about the house or something. But instead, when he poked his head around this door, he sighed in delight at the sight of a still mound under the plush white sheets. For a brief moment, Tom paused, before tiptoeing steadily round to her bedside. The light was still off but the hallway light illuminated the room enough so he could make out your soft features and the messy ball of hair that had been haphazardly thrown in a bun. Furthermore, he could also notice in the light the packet of painkillers and migraine tablets lying opened on the bedside - which made him freeze. Y/n didn’t get migraines often at all, but when she did Tom knew just how bad they could be. That explained the fact you were spark out at six o’clock, making Tom give a sympathetic smile. He crept back out the room with a little spring in his step, deciding that since he had had a long day travelling he'd grab a snack and join you. Unfortunately though, when he enthusiastically yanked the fridge open the sight was a rather depressing one. He didn’t really know what he was craving but the fridge contents were of almost no use to anyone. The place was bloody baron, apart from a tub of butter and of course his special beers that Y/n would never dare touch. With a small huff though, Tom resigned himself to some bread and butter, before getting ready for bed.

It was probably an hour later when Tom was carefully crawling under the duvet to settle in beside Y/n after the disappointing snack and maybe a solitary ‘welcome home beer’ - it would be rude not to. God was he excited to just have his girlfriend in his arms again though. So, Tom naturally reached over and powerfully yet gently pulled you back towards him - making your back flush with his as you mumbled something incoherent. Chuckling slightly at your apparent annoyance of being disturbed, Tom pressed a kiss to her temple before settling down momentarily.

But something wasn’t quite right, making Tom shuffle about a bit - ever adjusting huis grasp on your waist as he attempted to get comfy. With the migraine medications forcing you into a deep deep sleep you barely stirred and that just made the unease increase for Tom. Because you didn’t feel right. This didn’t feel right. Ever so slowly Tom started to peel back the duvet from your body from his now sitting upright position. Typically, Y/n was wearing one of his hoodies, however more concerningly it seemed to pool and collect around your frame more than normal.

Now, Y/n was never the most petite person in the world - by no means overweight, instead of beautiful curves and muscle. To Tom now though, it was as if someone had literally shrunk you - like a picture on a word document you needed to make narrower to fit the margins. Even in the dim light of the bedroom he know realised you looked pale. Honestly, Tom didn’t know how long he just sat there staring at you, until you sighed a little and pulled the duvet back up to just under your chin.

He didn’t know what to think or do. All he knew was you didn’t look well and that you hadn’t said a thing to him. Feeling so very uncomfortable within himself, Tom climbed out the bed and simultaneously grabbed his phone. He knew he had to call someone, to check that you hadn’t been ill - but then who to call? Someone that wouldn’t judge or instantly worry- your mum was completely off the cards. Also, he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain yet, so really he knew there was only a couple of options who were close enough to him too.

“Hey what’s up?” “Um nothing much, back in the UK though so-“ “Oh shit really! Kept that one quite bro” “Yeh well came back to surprise Y/n” “Oh you're soooo whipped” “Fuck off Haz, have you um… have you seen her recently anyway?” “You're asking me if I’ve seen your girl while you’ve been away?” “I’m being serious. You’re pretty much brother and sister and I’m -I’m a bit worried.” “What? You know she wouldn’t cheat especially with me” Haz’s tone turned less serious, using a goofy accent “ I know too much.” Haz still attempted to lighten the mood, this conversation very unexpected and making him grow more and more concerned himself. “Haz quit it. I’m worried she’s been ill. I’ve come in and she’s asleep with a migraine but there’s no food in the fridge and she’s skinny as hell.” “Fuck er sorry I didn’t realise. But um no she’s been cancelling on us for the past like two weeks cos like…I don’t know said she was just snowed under at the firm so” “But before then?” “No yeh she was fine. Went to the pub a couple times and she always drove so didn’t drink but nothing weird - think she wanted to keep a clear head. What are you thinking?” “I don’t know to be honest mate. She seemed fine on the phone but I swear to god she looks half the size  of what she was when I left.” “Just talk to her in the morning? She probably is just stressed if work has been mad busy.” Tom hummed in agreement, half trying to convince himself too. “Yeh yeh, sorry for bothering you.” “Oh shut up mate - I’ll see you both at your parents for the roast tomorrow? Sams got some new recipe I think, he’s been wittering on about it for days.” “Yeh we’ll be there, see you then mate.” 

After signing off to Haz, Tom placed his phone on the little table on the upstairs hallway and sighed. He knew he was being over-protective but he couldn’t help it. Y/n was always the one to care for him, in fact to care for everybody int he room and then some.

He’d get to the bottom of whatever this was tomorrow, and so the rest of the evening Tom spent rather unhappily get ready before bed yet again before climbing back in next to you.

///////////////////////////

Tom woke before you, a combination of jet lag and the worry in the pit of his stomach meaning he stirred awake first. Instinctively he pulled you closer and nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck as he slowly began to wake up properly - shrugging off the grogginess. Tom was still really excited for you to realise he was back, predicting you  to excitedly hug him ever so tight and then spend the morning between the sheets. He knew you found the distance tough, especially when all your closest friends were coupled off, it meant you just didn’t have ‘your person’. It was almost as if you were single again and instead of pining over an ex, hopelessly and completely in love with someone across the globe. But that just made your time together even more invaluable and precious.

So even with his slight unease at your slimmer silhouette, Tom didn't have any control over the loopy grin that came to his face as you started to stir and mumble something incoherent, all the while (and subconsciously) inching closer towards him. By the slight fluttering under your eyelid, Tom knew you were waking up and so took the moment to tuck your frizzy bed hair behind your ear. Sighing contently Y/n’s eyes fluttered completely open and Tom met your gaze with the most gently of smiles.

However, he then watched moment by moment as your expression morphed for one of peacefulness and content, through confusion, and ending at pure terror. He had barely thought of asking you why, before you yelped, throwing yourself up into a sitting position and backing as far away on the bed as you could from Tom. “TOM... I-you can’t be here! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!” “Y/n hey what’s wrong-“ “GET OUT! G-GET THE FUCK OUT! YOU CAN’T BE HERE” you  yanked the bedsheets to completely cover your huddled up body, as if trying to protect yourself. At this point, tears were streaming down your face and what truly terrified Tom was the expression of horror in your eyes. He threw his hands in the air and unsteadily stumbled to his feet. “O-okay I’m-“ “GET OUT!!! YOU CAN'T SEE ME GET OUT!” Completely bemused and shocked, Tom just nodded jerkily -already halfway out the door and accidentally slamming it in haste.

He had absolutely zero clue what that was about. But what he knew for a fact? He’d never ever seen you like that… you looked so completely terrified… of him? Tom couldn’t for the life of him work out what the hell was going on, as he paced from the shut door to the hallway wall and back again, running his hand through his hair throughout. He could hear you sobbing and whisper yelling - presumably at yourself. It felt as though his heart was being torn out, seeing you that upset and it appearing as his fault? He was acting on pure instinct and adrenalin because your pain hurt him too. He had no control of the physiological response in his body, making his hands shake and breathing increase in speed as it inversely got shallower too.

And so he took a short inhalation, biting his bottom lip as he knocked on the door. “Y/n?….” He got no response after waiting a couple of seconds so tried again - because he could hear you trying to stifle your sobs. After another two failed attempts he opted for a different approach. “Y/n… I’m worried about you… look, I know your upset right now but I need you to let me know your okay… or I’ll have to come in and…and I don’t want to spook you” “Don’t come in.” It was a sharp reply, with a voice that was cracked and clearly trying to keep It together. “Okay… I-I’m sorry if my surprise of coming home was a dumb idea…I-I’ve missed you.” Tom tried speaking softly, as he knelt down and sat with this back against the wall while nervously fiddling with his watch strap that he’d forgot to take off last night. Again he waited for a response but got nothing, again having to warn you he needed to know you were okay. He heard movements from the other side of the door, making him turn his head to the left, pressing his ear on the cool gloss paint. “I-I’m sorry” You barely were whispering, but Tom could sense you were now sitting in a position mirroring his “You don’t meed to apologise love” Returning her tone, Tom sighed at the end - trying to get his brain to process what was going on.

Y/n wasn’t one to overreact and Tom could count on one hand the number of serious fights they’d had in the three year romance. And even then, he was the one to raise his voice - when she argued it was more reasoned, slow and controlled. Actually it was one of the things that in those moments infuriated him even more - you were just so level headed and sensible. Scratch that, sensible purely in this context - everywhere else you were just as loopy as him. So this situation felt so very alien. He didn’t know how to help you and he bloody hated feeling useless.

After a few moments, you replied to apologise once again, for shouting specifically,  and Tom nodded - not that you could see. But that was one of the things Y/n had taught him, sometimes you just have accept things - no matter the context. Accept he wasn’t actually a superhero and couldn’t do everything, accept that sometimes he could be a dick and out of line or accept an apology.

“Can you.. can you try and tell me why your upset? I want to help.” He was trying to be gentle, non-confrontational. But he knew something was so wrong. He needed to know so he could try and help out. “I…”Y/n began, but quickly trailed off, as if trying to formulate the words properly. “I’ve just been ill and” again another pause “and I haven’t been looking after myself very well. I just planned to be umm- to be better when you got back.”

It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t really the truth either, at least not the whole truth. But it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m not sure I understand why your so worried about what I think though?” Tom inquired, as he started to fiddle with the door handle in his left hand - as if easing the idea of coming into his girlfriend without scaring you. In reply, you sighed again trying to put the words together without explicitly spelling it out to him. “I don’t- I thought you’d just be disappointed or-or think I’m reliant on you. I’m not and I can handle myself I just…. I don’t know.” “I love you, you idiot.”Tom chuckled at that, while standing up. “Can I come in now please? I promise I’m not disappointed just want to help you feel better.”

The door opened and no sooner could Tom take a step forward than Y/n ran into his chest, wrapping herself tightly around him in apology. He knew that he didn’t have the full story but really didn’t want to push her, more preferring to just love her. So that’s what they spent the rest of the morning doing, in their pyjamas and watching TV. Quite obviously, she wasn’t really making a lot of conversation, Tom filled some gaps with talking about filming - to which she’d hum in agreement or chuckle along. But for the most part Y/n was concentrating on something else.

The all-consuming guilt. That was what was eating away at her.

part 2?

[fluffypeachwriting]

Hitoya deserves love, can i request senario when a fem so is upset because she saw a woman (works with Hitoya in office) clinging to him like a leach and reader, please make it from angst to fluff

I don’t know if the ending counts as fluff, but it’s still a happy ending ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ I hope I can do Hitoya justice as he can be kinda hard to write for, especially with angst, which isn’t my forte as of now  (シ_ _)シ This was a fun writing experience though, and I’m happy to get your request!

Either way, I hope you enjoy, and I’m sorry you had to wait so long for this  (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃

A new employee at Hitoya’s law firm seemed to take a liking to your boyfriend. It started with a few flirty lines, and nothing more. Hitoya never responded to them, and that was fine. He probably didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. The whole situation was easy to brush it off in the beginning, since you were well aware of how attractive Hitoya was, and that anyone could be under his spell.

The woman in question knew about your relationship with Hitoya too. The two of you weren’t super affectionate in public, especially at work, but she definitely saw the way you lovingly looked at him when he brought you a coffee and some cake during your shift, and the way he softly smiled back at you. After all, she sat right across from you. She would wait a few minutes, tapping her nails on the table, and eventually get up to go to his office. Then, after purposefully leaving the door just open enough for you to see, she would perch on his desk and laugh at every word he said, putting her fingertips to her lips in a faux-shy kind of way. The sight made your heart leap up your throat and thump in your ears.

The worst part was that she was pretty cute, looks wise. If you didn’t know anything about her personality, you would have compared her to the sexy love interest option in an anime. She made office wear look good, and you never saw her look undignified. Sometimes she leaned towards a femme fatale-type. That idea was constantly reinforced every time she placed her hand on Hitoya’s arm, playfully swatting at him when he got grouchy, and batted her eyelashes when she wanted something from him.

If she was doing this to literally any other person in the office – hell, some people there would kill to have this woman dote on them – you would probably find it funny. Her attempts at ‘seducing’ him were bordering on comical.

This whole charade wasn’t private. The office was getting annoyed too. Not by you, of course. The woman was pretty good at her little admin job, so any chance of getting her out of the office relied on her stepping over the line with Hitoya.

Hitoya continued to ignore this woman, but he never shooed her away or told her to stop. There was a tiny voice in the back of your mind, whispering nasty ideas into your head – the possibility that Hitoya was actually enjoying this attention couldn’t be shaken off.

One night, as you were both in bed, you rolled over and asked: “Hitoya, do you love only me?”

He replied, without turning to face you: “Hn? ‘Course, whaddya mean?”

“I just… the new girl at work is kinda clingy with you. Can you tell her to knock it off?”

“She’s not hurting anyone.”

You sat up in bed and rested your hands in your lap, hesitant to look at Hitoya. “Wait, so you’re gonna defend her? But she’s clearly into you. She knows we’re a thing and… please just tell her to quit it.”

There was a momentary silence, and in the dark room you could almost see the woman in front of you, doing her typical sly giggle. Maybe she had already won.

“You’re worrying over nothing. Go to sleep, you’re probably stressed and tired. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

But it had been many mornings since this all began. The clock read 9:45pm. It was too late to go out for fresh air now, and you had work in the morning.

“Okay, goodnight.” You laid back down in bed and laid on your side, facing away from your partner.

“Goodnight.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from crying, and waited until you could hear Hitoya’s light snoring before feeling relaxed enough to fall asleep.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed. There was a note on your bedside table – Hitoya had gone to work early to prep for a few new prospect hires visiting.

Phew! Maybe that woman wouldn’t have to opportunity to bother him today.

Maybe today would be the start of some normality: with everyone keeping an eye on the visitors, most people wouldn’t be too keen on messing around. As you made some food and coffee, you updated yourself on the work group chat. There wasn’t much of it that concerned you, but seeing people’s elaborate excuses on why they couldn’t come in was amusing. That is, until you saw a message from that woman.

There was a selfie of her in the conference room, with Hitoya in the back, occupied with some papers, with the caption: ‘About to teach some newbies what’s up! Kya ahahaha!’

It was hard not to throw up your breakfast. Getting dressed was a struggle, since you wanted to punch every surface in the room.

They were alone in a room, without you. She could be saying god knows what to him, well aware that you wouldn’t be in for at least another hour.

Rushing to get ready and go to the office was an option, but what good would it do?

All you could picture was Hitoya staring down at you, as you burst through the door, dishevelled from rushing there, chiding you for imagining what you said this woman was doing.

When you came to your senses, you were in the office, bursting through the door, just as you didn’t want to do.

“Hey, Boss?” The receptionist said, looking concerned.

“…Yeah? Where’s Hitoya? And why’d you call me ‘Boss’?”

“You’re basically also our boss too. And I dunno where Boss Boss is but, are you okay? Are you like, super tired?” The receptionist gestured to his clothes, implying that something was wrong with yours.

And there was. Because you were not in your work clothes at all. You had come to the office in a hoodie and sweatpants. In your rush to get ready, you had forgotten about looking presentable.

“Oh shit.”

“Hey, Boss. I know it was an accident, if you slip out and come back soon, I’ll just tell people there was traffic. I got your back.”

“Thanks.” You sighed, thankful that someone was on your side for once.

Right as you turned to leave, a piercing laugh came from the conference room entrance. One that was all too recognisable.

‘Of course she had to see this. Just my luck,’ you thought.

Her heels click-clacked as she came closer.

“Oh sweetie, this is just too much! You think that just because you’re banging the Boss man you can show up in whatever clothes you want? What a pathetic little weirdo…” She looked at the receptionist for agreement but he had turned around in second-hand embarrassment.

You were too miserable to try and act polite to her. You’d had enough. All of that jealously that had been bubbling inside you for what felt like years had finally spilled over.

“Why don’t you keep your nose out of our business for once!? You know we’re in a relationship, so why don’t you just fuck off and leave him alone!? If you’re gonna try and sleep around at least go for single people, you freak!” As you raised your voice, tears started streaming down your face. You didn’t care that it made you look even more of a mess. “The only reason we keep you around here is because you’re good at your job! You belong in hell, you demon!”

No more words could properly express how fed up you were, how much you wanted this woman out of sight. Your hands were clutched tight to your chest, which hurt more by the second. You kept your eyes focused on the floor in fear of her reaction. It wasn’t likely that she’d do a 180 and take pity on you.

Instead, you did a 180 and ran out of the building. You could barely see where you were going, but you knew where you wanted to go.

One turn left, a few crossings straight ahead, a couple of right turns, and you were where you and Hitoya had your first ‘date’: a bench next to a vending machine.

That day, he had planned to take you to a fancy restaurant, but it started raining so hard that you had to take shelter in a convenience store for a while, and ended up missing your reservation. When the sky cleared, Hitoya gave you his jacket to shield you from future showers, and bought a couple of drinks to share. The indirect kiss you shared on that canned coffee gave you the strongest butterflies you’d ever felt.

You wanted to feel that same sunshine on your face as then, and see the same rainbow as then, but the sky was cloudy today. Sitting on the bench with your cheeks resting on your fists, you tried to force your mind back into that honeymoon phase. It all seemed so much simpler then, like nothing could stand between you two. Now everything was dreary. Now it was just you, the pit in your stomach, this convenience store, and passers-by.

Someone was walking a hyper-active dog that tried to jump at you. A lady with a small child asked if you were alright, which was nice. A few teens were out looking to cause trouble, though you didn’t care. A group of kids were meticulously counting their money out loud, and yes, they did have enough money to get a soda and a steamed bun. All of these people, going about their lives, reminded you that even in these times where your world was turning upside down, the rest of the world would go on. Even the guy going on a run was just doing his thing. You didn’t look up, but you could hear him running, then stopping just outside the store.

“There you are.” A familiar deep voice said in-between pants.

Your head snapped up. “Hitoya!?”

Hitoya was there, his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

“I heard what happened from Yamashita, at the front desk. I knew where you’d be. She’s gone. You don’t need to worry about her anymore.”

“What?”

“That woman. She’s gone. I kicked her out of the firm. I’m sorry for letting it get to this point.” Hitoya flopped beside you on the bench and took your hands in his. He sounded award, like he was having a conversation that was long overdue. “It was messed up on my end to not say anything. I just figured out that that was worse than doing something. I… You know you’re the only one I have eyes for, you know that? I know I don’t say this romantic sappy stuff a lot, but uh, you’re always what I look forward to seeing, like, you’re really cute right now, even in those clothes. I kinda wanna cuddle you. Hey, let’s take the rest of the day off and go home and do that, yeah?”

You were too stunned to reply with words. It was like a dream come true. That toxic bitch was out of your life, and you didn’t have to see her again. Hitoya was yours, and he was ready to confess – in public, no less – that he really did love you.

After a minute of collecting your thoughts, you replied in a croaky voice: “Yeah, let’s go home. To our home.”

Where no-one could come between you.

[demivampirew]

Say no to this.

Henry x Reader (wife) x Reader (the other woman)

Triggers: Angst; cheating, breakup, divorce (and crying).

A/N: This was inspired by two songs from the musical Hamilton: Say No to This and Burn, and it’s told from the perspective of the characters (Henry, Reader (Wife), Reader (the other woman)

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist 

Having the chance to portray one of his favourite characters is an honour for which Henry will forever be thankful. Yet, he must admit that having to spend time apart from his family was not an easy task. 

He sat on the bed in the dark hotel room, only enlightened by the moonlight. On his phone screen, he saw the picture you’ve sent him earlier that day of you and your daughter playing, you dressed as a princess and the six-year-old as a dragon. “Oh, your mighty witcher, come and save me, please,” read the message under the picture. Henry missed dressing up in costumes and running around the house with his little angel, who would laugh uncontrollably every time he caught and started to tickle her.

It’s been over two months since he left for work; 60 plus days without feeling the lovely touch of your hands on his face, too much time without feeling the warmness of your body against his.

He laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling for an hour, unable to sleep when his phone announced that he had a new message.

“Are you awake? I can’t sleep,” y/n wrote. She was a friend he made on the set of the show - she worked as a personal assistant for one of the recurrent directors of the show and she was staying at the same hotel that Henry. “Yes. Can’t sleep either. Come if you want,” he replied, thinking that some company would help him to feel less lonely.

Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door. Henry opened the door and invited y/n to come in. Once inside, she faced him and smiled as she showed him the content of her bag: a PS and The Witcher 3 game. “I know you’re more into pc, but l don’t have a gaming pc here, so we will have to play with this, okay,” she said grinning.

“I remember you saying that you were good at this,” y/n while rolling her eyes, teasing him. “I am, but in the pc,” Henry defended himself with a playful smile.

They played the game for two hours before she suggested that it might be time for her to leave. Henry tried to disconnect the console from the tv but she told him to keep it, for now, so he could keep practising.

“Well, good night. I hope you can have a good sleep and tomorrow enjoy your free day,” y/n told him. “Same for you,” he said goodbye, but neither of them moved. They stared at each other for a long minute in silence. Henry’s hands reached for her face bringing it closer to his, culminating in a passionate kiss, while her arms embraced him.

Her naked body, covered only by the bed-sheets rested on the mattress as she slept. Henry looked at her for a moment and then walked towards the bathroom. He washed his face on the sink and then stared at the mirror, finding it hard to recognize the person that was reflected in the mirror. “I promise you that I will be forever faithful to you, my love” he once promised you, his lovely wife, and now the words echoed inside his mind, as stabs on his heart.

How could had he broken the promise he made you? Did he not loved you any more? No, that was sure of that, he loved you more than he had ever done. You no only made him happy and supported him through tough times, but you also gave him the thing that he treasured the most in the world: his daughter. But, he had to be honest with himself, for the first time in a long time and admit that things were not as they used to be. Before the birth of the little girl, you used to be inseparable. You would go with him everywhere in the world, game and laugh and made love every second you could. Now, you were parents; your lives centred on the precious angel and work and were often too tired and since the kid would like to sleep with you, often lacked intimacy.

The worst part of all: he wished that he could say that it was a one time mistake, but it became an affair that lasted for months.

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

You hated yourself. In the past, you’d constantly criticized “the other woman” for being malicious women who stole men from others. Now you had become one of them. Well, no completely. Sure, you were carrying an affair with a married man, but you weren’t a fool, you knew that you would never be able to “stole” anyone and he would never leave his wife for you; he never made such a promise and you knew him well enough to know that he loved his family more than anything in the world and he was being vulnerable due to the distance between his true woman and him. Were you a bad woman for being with a taken man knowing that he was in such a delicate emotional position? Maybe, but to be completely honest, so were you. Months before you met Henry, your fiancé cancelled the wedding because he had fallen in love with somebody else. You were feeling lonely and undesired and you had developed a crush on him before that first night. So, you didn’t find the strength to fight the desire and succumb to the temptation.

Every night you’ve spent together, with his strong arms embracing you as his lips caressed your body, felt amazing no matter how wrong it was. And, even if your heart ripped every time you remembered that he wasn’t truly yours - and you were reminded of that constantly, since there was no a single time in which he hadn’t unconsciously said his wife’s name as he reached climax, you couldn’t find it in you to put it a stop.

You knew that this would have a bad end. No matter the outcome, someone would get hurt. 

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

That day, your sister offered to take care of your six-year-old so you could have some time to yourself to process things.

Desperate to get some distance and to be alone, you rented a small cabin outside the city.

The sun was coming down when you lifted a bonfire outside the place and sat in front of it with a box that you’ve carried there moments before.

Your fingers caressed every picture - of your first date, your first anniversary as girlfriend and boyfriend; vacations, birthdays and even your wedding. Every photo would get wet with your tears before you threw them into the fire. All objects that reminded of the love you once shared, ended up becoming ashes. Letters, poems, teddy bears, roses that you dried; everything. The only surviving things were the pictures you shared with your daughter, but you would make sure to send them to his mother because you didn’t want to see them any more, the pain was too great.

Finally, you took from your pocket the pictures you printed before to look at them for one last time. They were screenshots from a celebrity news website and the headline read “The Witcher star Henry Cavill is seen kissing a mystery woman”, followed by paparazzi photos of him with someone on the balcony of his hotel room. Angrily, you crashed the prints and let them burn into they became nothing.

With nothing more to do, you watched the flames, as you let your tears fall, feeling completely and utterly broken.

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

The production was over. After the news crashed, Henry had to continue filming, pretending that nothing happened, while some people looked at him as if he was a monster. Could he blame them for that?

When the article about his affair was published, his brother Charlie was the one who delivered the bad news - his stepdaughter had seen it and told him about it.

He didn’t know what to do. He called his wife over and over, but she never answered. All-day long he tried to communicate with his love, but every time without luck.

 Y/N tried to call him, too, but this time he was the one who ignored the call. He had nothing against her. Henry knew that she could no be blamed for his mistake, but he couldn’t talk to her right now. His wife was his priority.

Unfortunately, the only response he got from her was from her sister, two days later, letting him know that she was going to file for a divorce and she never wanted to see him or talk to him again. That she would only allow him to contact her, through her or another family member and elusively for things related to their daughter. She was going to share custody with him, but he would have to pick up and leave the girl on her sister or parent’s house.

Now, months later, he driving to his sister-in-law’s house to pick up his daughter and to leave the divorce papers that he had to sing.

There were no words to explain how much it hurt him to lose the woman he loved deeply. The only consolation was that his family continued to show him love and support as they always did. And, his daughter, unaware of the reason why her mommy and daddy decided to go separate ways, still love him enormously and would fill him with joy every minute of every day that he had her.

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

It was obvious that there was no going to be a good end to the affair - it never does. You knew someone would get hurt, but you’d never imagined that it would be all three of you.

Terrible didn’t even begin to explain how bad you felt. Of all the three of you, you were the one who got it the “best”, since luckily the pictures only showed your hair in a bun and your back, so only a few close people knew that it was you and they were polite enough to keep the secret to avoid you getting harassed. Although, just in case, you dried your hair and got a new haircut.

Henry’s wife filed for the divorce after she found out about the affair. He let you know via text when he put an end to things and told you he could no longer see you. Even if there was no chance to get back with her, he couldn’t be with you because he loved her too much and you reminded him of the mistake he made. As he suggested, you continued working for a few more weeks there to avoid people finding out that it was you, but later quit.

That was by far the worst mistake that you’ve ever made. So much people got hurt; a girl now has two parents that can’t be in the same room, two people who loved each other who can’t be together because the ghost of you would always be present to remind them of the mistake and a person who’s affection was never truly corresponded and caused the break of a family.

Therapy has been truly beneficial in helping you heal and leaving the past in the past.

Today a new article about Henry was posted online. It consisted of pictures of him and his cute girl buying a Christmas tree and he was laughing at his daughter's funny faces.

[mermaidssonshipss]

the quiet one

anotha request! hehe this one was cute and i got excited when i read it, so thank you to whoever requested it! sorry it took so long to write it, but ... writers block is a bitch! and work is also a bitch!

warnings: none! bunch of cuteness. some cursing i think.

pairings: jj maybank x reader

word count: 3.2k

For the past three years, every Saturday morning at 8am, JJ Maybank could be found on your property, mowing the lawn to perfection. When he’d turned 18 a year ago and got a real job, he’d quit mowing lawns on Figure 8, but your parents had grown to love him, so they told him if he took every Saturday off to mow their lawn in the morning, they’d pay him what he would earn an entire day at work. What they didn’t know though, was that JJ didn’t plan on leaving them anyway, they were the one family he was happy to continue working for, even if it meant he would have to wake up at 5am to get it done before his actual job. 

At around 8:15am, once JJ had gotten everything out and set up and was beginning to work, you would make your way onto the porch, a glass of iced coffee in one hand for you, and an ice cold water bottle in the other for him. You’d offered time and time again to make him an iced coffee, but he’d always declined, saying he felt bad having you make him a drink while he was being paid to fix your lawn. That had never stopped your mom from making him breakfast though, and while he could say no to you, he couldn’t say no to the woman who was paying him. 

When he had first started, none of you had any idea what his home-life was like. Your dad had found out first, about a year into him mowing your law, when JJ pulled up one Saturday with a black eye, his chest and abdomen also covered in matching blue and black spots. When you saw him struggling to mow the lawn, clear he was in pain, you ran to your dad and told him, who was quick to go outside and question JJ. At first, JJ tried to play it off, saying he got into a fight with Rafe Cameron the night before, but as your dad had been at the Cameron’s house the night before and had seen Rafe, he knew it was a lie. Eventually, JJ gave in and told your dad everything.

After your dad had shared the information with your mom, she had begun to dote over the boy every Saturday, hence why she had been cooking him breakfast now for the last two years. She would also send him home with food for lunch and dinner for the next two days, and you’d caught your mom sending Luke glares when she ran into him at the market on The Cut you went to often: they had the best peaches on the island.

Though you’d known him for 3 years and shared friendly banter in the mornings when you gave him his water, you tended to shy away from having any actual conversation with him. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him or enjoy his presence, you’d just always been considered the quiet one, and you kept to yourself. You had friends, sure, but none of them truly knew who you were, nor did they ever really care enough to try and find out.

JJ had turned 19 a couple of months ago, and your mom had baked him a cake, your dad giving him an envelope with enough money in it to cover his rent for the next two months. He’d moved out of his dads home and was living in a small apartment on the cut by himself, though you’d heard him complain to your dad that it felt like the pogues never left him alone. You knew he didn’t mean it, as it was clear how much he loved his friends, but the thought of a distressed JJ trying to kick his friends out had made you giggle.

***

“Dude... you’re whipped,” Pope gave JJ a hard pat on the back, shaking his head at the blonde boy in front of him. JJ glared, snatching the wrapped up box from Pope’s hand.

“Shut up, Pope, I’m not whipped.”

“You’re whipped,” John B piped in, and JJ lifted his middle finger up at him, “We’ve had to listen to you sigh over this girl the last 3 years, and you’ve barely even talked to her.”

“We’ve talked!”

“Yeah, when she’s offering to make you an iced coffee and you say no. Which, you’re fucking stupid for by the way. Iced coffee is the shit.”

“I try to talk to her dude. But I just get.. nervous?” He questioned, not sure if that was the correct wording. Girls didn’t make JJ Maybank nervous, but for some reason, you did. “She’s just always so into her books and I don’t wanna disturb her. She’s also the prettiest girl on this island... she isn’t gonna give me the time of day.” JJ huffed, collapsing down onto the couch next to John B, the brunette shaking his head at him. 

“Her parents love you, clearly, so that already gives you an advantage. Also, she comes and sits out on the porch every Saturday. And she’s been doing it for 3 years. She’s clearly doing it for a reason,” Pope piped in, swiping a coke out of JJ’s fridge.

“You like her. She clearly goes out of her way to see you so if she doesn’t already like you, she’s close. Just... I don’t know. Be JJ and get her to like you,” John B was useless, JJ had decided, shaking his head as he pushed himself back to his feet and snatched his car keys from the kitchen table.

“Clean up your shit!” JJ called over his shoulder as he took off out the front door, making his way to his car to head to your house.

***

The sun outside fought its way through your thin curtains, the light assaulting your closed eyelids, causing them to flutter open as you turned your face away from the window. You blew out a breath of air before reaching onto your nightstand and snatching your phone. Your notifications were full of texts and social media posts, everyone wishing you a happy birthday, and you smiled for a moment before tossing the phone into your sheets and pulling yourself out of bed.

By the time you had finished showering and thrown on a pair of simple frayed jean short shorts and a green cropped tube top, it was already 8:10am. You huffed, deciding to skip doing your makeup as you tossed your wet hair into a messy bun, your feet moving quickly down the stairs. 

As you entered the kitchen, you could hear the lawn mower going off in the backyard, and your eyes wandered to the glass doors that would soon lead you out to JJ. You could see him through the glass, his shirt already off as he pushed the large piece of metal across the grass, sweat forming on his tan skin. 

“Quit staring, you’re drooling.” your dads voice snapped you out of your trance, your cheeks turning scarlet as you threw a glare at him.

“I wasn’t staring.” you mumbled, moving around the kitchen as you began to make your iced coffee. 

“You totally were,” he laughed, and he went to pat you on the head but you dodged him, throwing a spoon at him as a warning. You’d gotten the bun to look perfect, and you’d be damned if he fucked it up. He raised his hands in surrender before bending down and grabbing the thrown spoon, tossing it into the sink, “Happy birthday, kiddo.” 

“Thanks dad,” you smiled, pressing a couple buttons on the Keurig so it would start making your coffee.

“Any plans for today? Besides staring at JJ for the next two hours?”

“I WASN’T STARING!” your voice raised right as JJ shut the lawn mower off, carrying outside through the window that was cracked open. JJ looked towards the glass doors leading into the kitchen, his eyes straining to see inside. He could see your dad bent over laughing, but you had moved so you were hidden behind the fridge. He shrugged, turning the lawn mower back on and getting back to work.

“I will kill you.” you glared, shooing him out of the kitchen as he shot you a wink before disappearing into his home office.

When you were done getting your coffee ready, you grabbed a water bottle and your book that was resting on the island, heading outside to the back porch. Immediately, JJ turned the lawn mower off once more, sending you a bright smile as he made his way over to you to grab the waiting bottle.

“Good morning, y/n,” he said as his fingers wrapped around the cold plastic, grazing your own softly.

“Good morning, JJ.” you replied, sending him a shy smile. That was usually the end of your morning conversation as you would generally move to the swing on the porch to read, but today, JJ kept going.

“It’s your birthday.” he stated, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“It is.” you had placed your coffee down on the outside table now, watching him curiously. He hesitated for a moment before moving around you and heading to the porch swing you usually sat on, and you watched as he pulled up the pillow and grabbed onto a pink box that had been hidden.You gave him a shy smile as he handed it to you, the apples of his cheeks tinting an intense shade of red.

“It’s stupid so don’t expect anything wonderful but... yeah.” He mumbled out quickly, his hand gripping onto the back of his neck as he looked down at his feet.

“You didn’t have to get me anything at all, JJ.” You took the box from his hands, your own cheeks matching his. You looked up at him, questioning if you could open it, to which he nodded.

As you pulled the wrapping paper off, it revealed a golden toned leather journal with your name engraved in the middle, the quote “I hope she’ll be a fool- that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.” underneath it in a beautiful script.

“JJ...” you gasped, your eyes lighting up as you looked at the timid boy in front of you, ”How’d you know that’s my favorite quote?” your eyebrow raised in question as your fingertips delicately traced over the engraving.

“Senior year of high school, your school came to my high school on the cut and my English teacher made everyone go around and say their favorite book and quote. You were the only one who actually had an answer. Then a year or so ago you left a book out lying on the porch swing and when I passed it, I saw that same quote highlighted.” He shrugged as he spoke, brushing off the words, but your heart had been racing the entire time as you fought back a wide smile.

“This is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me, and I mean that. Thank you, JJ.” You placed the journal down on the table that was next to you on the porch and lifted yourself up on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around JJ’s bare shoulders in a hug. He hesitated for a moment, not expecting the physical contact, but he quickly wrapped his own arms around your small waist, breathing in the scent of your orange blossom shampoo.

***

JJ had been at your house everyday for the past two weeks. Your dads car had broken down, and apparently JJ was the only one who could fix it. Your dad was willing to pay very generously for his time, so the shop JJ worked at allowed him to come to your house to take care of it. While your dad was away at work, you’d been given the assignment of hanging out with JJ to “keep an eye on him,” though you knew your dad was just doing it so the two of you would spend more time together. And you did. He’d finally begun accepting your iced coffee offers in the morning, and the two of you would mess around in your kitchen each day cooking lunch, seeing what exactly you could make with all the ingredients in the house. While you’d always found JJ attractive, your feelings for him were definitely blossoming into much more. You’d catch yourself staring off at his lips as he spoke, wondering what the red tinted skin would feel like against yours. 

JJ had already had feelings for you before the past two weeks came around, but now that the two of you were actually getting to know each other, he came to the realization that while relationships scared him and he’d always shied away from them, he wanted one with you. If he wanted to analyze his feelings even more, he’d hesitate of course, but he was willing to admit that he was falling for you: he had, actually, when Pope grilled him the night before about the amount of time you two were spending together, and how bright the smile on JJ’s face had been lately. 

Currently, JJ was leaning over the hood of your dads car, his jeans covered in oil, and your eyes were transfixed on his bare back, following a few sweat droplets as they trailed down the tan skin. You were sat atop one of the building counters in your garage, your bottom lip caught between your teeth absentmindedly. When JJ turned around abruptly, you snapped your eyes up, sitting up straighter as your cheeks turned red when you noticed the smirk on his face, your fingers gripping onto the edge of the wooden counter in embarrassment. Your eyes were wide, an innocent expression playing on your features, and JJ had to stop himself from laughing. 

“It’s not very nice to stare, pretty girl.” He remarked, the nickname he’d recently begun using towards you causing your stomach to stir.

“I wasn’t!” You defended, your eyes squinting into a glare, but as JJ’s chuckle rang through the garage, a smile broke out on your face.

“To be fair,” he spoke, wiping his hands on a towel before discarding it onto the floor as he approached you, “I stare at you quite often. Have for the past 3 years.”

As he spoke, your gaze had shamelessly moved down his torso, but once the words he had said actually registered, your eyes quickly moved back up to his shining blue orbs as they watched you closely. 

“Really?” your voice came out as a whisper, disbelief riddled in your tone. JJ had always been someone you saw as unattainable: he’d made his dislike for kooks very clear, and he was also notorious on the island for not being into commitment. 

“Does that really come as a surprise?” he’d lowered his voice as he was now stood right in front of you, his hands resting on your thighs gently, and you were finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than the heat from his skin on yours.

“I... well... yeah...” you stuttered out, not really sure what to say or how to explain it.

“While your mom and dad are wonderful people, they aren’t the reason I’ve been mowing your lawn for the past 3 years.” At this point, he’d pushed your thighs apart so he could stand in-between them, his body almost pressed against yours now.

“What’s the reason?” the words were rushed and sounded breathless as his thumbs were now rubbing into the skin of your thighs in slow circles, and you’d missed how his head was dipping down so his face was level with yours.

“You.”

His lips were on yours seconds later, gliding against yours slowly as the cinnamon scented lipgloss you were wearing invaded his tastebuds. His nose bumped with yours softly as you titled your head, your hand coming up to rest on his cheek softly as his arms now wound around your waist, pulling you into his warm body as you leaned into his touch. He had your bottom lip captured between his now, his teeth softly nipping at the skin as he pulled on it lightly before pulling away, and you let out a quiet whine at the absence of his lips on yours, pulling him back down and connecting your lips once again. 

This kiss was less timid than the first had been, your teeth clanking together gently as you both pushed to deepen it. His hand was now gripping onto the back of your neck, his fingertips pressing into the delicate skin as your hands rested on his bare chest, finally exploring the skin you’d been dreaming about. 

A cough caused the two of you to pull apart, you jumping down from the counter and JJ moving back over to the car, both of your faces reddening as you saw your dad standing there, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Finally. That took longer than I expected.” he began to speak, the smirk turning into a smile, “JJ, join us for dinner tonight?”

“I... uh... sure..?” JJ’s voice was laced with confusion, his heart racing in his chest as he’d expected your dad to scream at him, but his reaction had been the exact opposite.

Your dad simply nodded his head before clapping his hands together, sending the two of you a thumbs up as he left the garage, leaving the both of you standing there in silence until you heard the front door close.

“Did he...” you began, your eyes still trained on where your dad had been standing.

“I think he.. planned on this happening...” JJ finished for you, gazes finally connecting. He had a smile on his face, but you were still confused, and your face was still hot as you thought about the fact that your dad had literally just caught you making out with JJ when you’d been denying you felt anything for him for the past 3 years. 

“Hmph.” You hummed after a moment, but a small smile was playing on your now swollen lips. JJ walked back over to you, grabbing your hands in his and lacing your fingers together as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I know I’m not known for relationships and shit,” he started, squeezing your hands as you looked up at him, hope filling your eyes, “But I think it’s just because by the time I was old enough to really want one, you’d come into my life, and I couldn’t get you off my mind. No one was you. No one made me feel the way you did, and half the time we only said a few words to each other and the rest of our time together was me staring at you while you read, and I still felt like a fucking 10 year old with his first crush. I want to do this, but I want to do this with you, and only you. And I’d also like to say that Pope helped me rehearse this, because I’m shit with feelings and probably would’ve ended up calling you dude at some point and ruining everything.” You laughed loudly as he finished and he sent you a shy smile, causing you to shake your head in disbelief before moving onto your tiptoes and pressing a gentle kiss against his rough lips, pulling away before he could deepen it.

“I’d like to do this with you, too.... dude.”

[thelemmerpie]

You look at your watch, and the same question since the beginning of the school year crosses your mind.

Why having classes on saturday morning?

Everyone is tired, except the teacher. Everyone will have to work this weekend. Students never have a vacation, only stolen time paid from sleepless nights.

Whatever. Since you know Mandy, your saturdays to you two are as free as possible and almost nothing prevents you from seeing each other. Every week, you end up in your favorite italian restaurant for a dinner, often accompanied by a night of pleasure in your flat, or hers. Even if it's still impossible for you to live with each other, spending the weekends together is not uncommon. So much that she has clothes and toilet stuff in your appartment, and vice versa.

You thought about her face floating above a table, lit by candles. It perfumes your spirit and you quickly forget the courses. Gracious, her smile revealing so cute dimples, her long and willowy hair tumbling down like a waterfall made of the most sleeked mirror on her oppulent chest, more or less revealed according to her mood...You're already on a cloud only by thinking about her. The day is beautiful, your eyes closes while you're smiling, and nothing can lift you out of your contemplation.

-Mr. Johnson seems already on weekend. Unless he's still in dreamland?

Almost nothing. The comment is as striking as a bucket of iced water. You turn your head to the old vulture who serves as a teacher. The bun as tight as her thin pinched lips, she looks at you with eyes ready to throw lightning. You stutt.

-Sorry mam'. Tiredness.

-Think about sleeping at night, young man.

As if you could afford it...This first year of master's degree in plastic arts, sculpture course, is more exhausting than expected.You wish you could rest your head every night on Mandy, which is impossible. Since she obtained a bachelor's degree and works on the other side of the city, she had to take a flat. You, you stayed on the campus. Life is good inside it, but not as much as with her.

The rest of the class is deadly boring, but you strive to make as many notes as you can. Finally, after what seems like hours, the old harpy frees you by asking you to return a project for the next time.

You turn on your phone and the notifications appears. Mandy sent you a text. You open it right away, hoping for a soft message to wait until tonight.

"I'm sorry, I have to cancel dinner tonight"

A fleeting moment passes, then an immense disappointment falls like a hawk on his prey (and on your heart. And on your libido). This is not the first time that one of you cancels at the last moment, but it's always unpleasant. Nevertheless, you decide to not hold it against her, even if it saddens you.

"Too bad :'(  All you alright? I miss you so much ".

The answer doesn't take long to arrive.

"Yes, I'm fine, but I really cannot go out yet."

She doesn't give you more details, which worries you a bit. Usually, you immediately tell to the other the reasons for the cancellation. You are puzzled, but you trust her and don't insist.

"If you need anything, I can go to your house tonight. Shop, or anything else. What about pizzas and a movie on the TV ?"

"Yes ! That would be wonderful, and much better ! If I can't go out right now, I can at least let you in ~~ I'm sending you a list."

It's autumn, but the heat persists and the blue sky makes you want a sandwich. You would like her to be there, by your side, lying in the still soft green grass, but she never liked the heat for a simple reason : finding suitable clothes to go out in such heat is almost impossible. Not because of being overweight, no. At least, not all over her body. It's a very local overweight: a macromastia.

As a teenager, her chest was already growing at an impossible rate. At 17, she was competing with the most buxom models you'd ever seen. Since then, her chest continues to grow steadily. Every four months, she is forced to buy new bras. Whole boxes of old underwear hang around her house.

She learned to do with it. As soon as she's back home, she unravels the torture instrument to free her chest. If it excited you at first, it fast becomed as common as taking off your shoes. Ignoring her chest is clearly impossible, especially when it jumps in all directions. But the moments you prefer are those quite ones where you are together to the couch, watching TV while behaving and more if you're in the mood. These moments are still too rare. You hope this will change one day. In such a big city, your respective obligations separates you and if you get closer, it would be your obligations that would be too far from you.

You sigh. In just over a year, you'll be able to live together. Her father has promised you a job in his molding company, and he already considers you two as married. Maybe you'll even be able to take up his business later. A clear path, a good job, a dream girlfriend, and a lovely family in law. It's well worth it to endure on saturday mornings with the vulture and work like a madman.

You finish your sandwich when your phone vibrates again. It's Mandy. A short list is displayed. She doesn't need much : food, some medicine...And new bras.

There, you frown.

She bought some two weeks ago, and they were already costing a fortune, in addition to being horribly uncomfortable. Having a big chest is considered as chance, but the bad sides can be counted easily : besides the expensive and inconvenient underwears, you can cite the look of others and the lustful solicitations from complete strangers when you go out in the street.

And yet, you've never seen her complain. No back pain, a body of foolproof flexibility, and an amused satisfaction when she surprises the eyes of others dive into her deep cleavage. She likes to seduce as well, but has always looked for someone who would consider her as something much than a toy for a titfuck. Her breasts didn't leave you indifferent, but you quickly became interested about her to the point that even naked, you can discuss with her as when she wears a triple layer of thick clothes, in autumn and winter, the only seasons where she can go out without problems. Her two favorite seasons have quickly become yours as she feels comfortable.

And yet, what a pair !

You could carve it from memory on pink marble, with all the details that her body offers. Round, no, a little oval. Glossy, smooth, plumped in her clothes, looking like a silicon bag that other women implant themselves. Except that she's natural. It's so unlikely that many people find it hard to believe, at the point that "fake boobs" yeled loudly always been an insult. Harassment, she knows that. But she has always been proud of her body, and you have always been proud of her. People talk, you live your love, that's enough for you two.

You keep thinking about your sculpture. Her tits would be nothing without gravity, of course. A challenge, to account for a chest so beautiful, so full, but that falls so little. Languid into the lustiness of her own pleasure, as she is after love. She's like her chest: proud, but so smoochy when she loves...

And the nipples, of course ! Small, discreet, as cute and innocent as infants. Two small chicks hatched by two aerolas, soft hen mums. Everytime, you vacillate between kissing them softly or sucking them. Everything in her is so perfect that to soil her would be a crime, if she wern't agree to welcome you near her and into her.

Nevertheless. New bras just two weeks after buying other is strange. Have they broke ? With a chest like hers, nothing surprises you anymore.Those before were worse than grandmother's bras. Thick sackcloths, oversized sports bras, with braces stretching out day after day, until her breasts overflowed and compressed her too much. A sexy photo later, you left to buy others. Shopping with her is always a pleasure, even if shops providing sizes at her convenience are increasingly rare.

You call her, and her voice soon rings in your ears.

-Hello, Danny ?

-Mandy, sweetie, I got your list. Had you not...already bought new bras recently?

It still gets you to be embarrassed to talk about her breasts, sometimes, and you must carefully prepare your words in order to not blush. You prefer to look at them and touch them, in silence, without any other noise than her pleasure moans.

-Sorryyyyyyyy ~~ . But I can't do otherwise. I can't go out with the old ones, it's getting worse and worse.

-Better and better, you mean ?

-For you, yes.

-And for you too. I know you love your breasts.

-Stop, she said, laughing. Or I could cancel the pizza tonight.

-You wouldn't dare !

The indignation in your voice is falsely exaggerated, which makes her laugh once again.

-If the handsome and brave knight carries out his mission and goes shopping, maybe the princess will send him a foretaste of what awaits him...

-An antipasti before the pizza, hm? I'll be curious to see what you're making...

-First, shop. I will prepare everything for tonight.

You're about to say goodbye to her, when a genius idea comes to you.

- What if I buy candles?

- What for?

- You know...candlelit dinner?

- For delivery pizzas ? No thanks. And then, I'm lazy to do the dishes. They have grown so much that I start having back pain...

-Really? In this case, prepare your oils for a long and good massage.

You hear hear murmuring with satisfaction.

-Very well, brave knight. If you manage to kill the hunchbacked dragon, the princess will offer you more than an antipasti.

-It's a great honor you give me, my lady.

-Come on, hang up. The shop will not make it himself.

- See ya, sweetie.

-See ya, cutie.

You hang up, a smile on your lips. Never in your life had you had such spars with anyone before. Each of her words brings you joy. Hurry the day you move in with her : your happiness will be complete.

But now, groceries. Your phone is vibrating again. It's a text sent by Mandy.

"I called Georgina this morning, you just have to take the package and pay. It's a huge lucky break, she has just renewed her supplies and agreed to take back those of two weeks ago. I will repay you".

The advantage of being a loyal and regular customer for out-of-the-ordinary clothing is that the ladies around the globe forms a small private club where they can discuss and exchange advice and services. The shop she usually goes to is far away, but it's a warm one and the woman who holds it is super great. Georgina, the manager, is a little old woman as wrinkled as an apple and had the same chest problems. She quickly decided to help women like her. If the bras remaines expensive, she gladly takes over the old ones to retouch them. She's even made customized tailor-made. But as long as Mandy's breasts will continue to grow at a breakneck pace, it will be useless and she clearly told you that : "I should take new measurements immediately after my work is done. I'd never seen that ! Go on like this, my little one, and congratulations, young man ! "

The shop bell tolls when you enter into it. Some times later, Georgina comes out of the back shop and greets you, delighted as you go forward the sale desk.

-Ah, Daniel ! I received Mandy's message. This girl beats all records, I made a new storpile just for her ! Only two weeks, and you'd think she took six months all at once !

-Thank you, Georgina, this is the first time that happens ...

-Tell me about it ! I've never seen that ! Fortunately, I have a good contact in England. Tell her to slow down, she never listened to me! It's not like you're not already happy with what she have, huh?

You try to show a neutral face, as every time Georgina talks about your relationship. Some grandmothers are discreet, but the old seamstress would be able to collapse buildings just by talking. Like every time, you fail and can only display a shy smile.

- I'll tell him, thanks. How much do I owe you?

The old woman sweeps the air with her hand and rejects the imaginary money.

-Nothing ! We'll see that when she returns the others. Knowing her, she didn't even touch it. She made her measurements, but I put her several sizes just in case. She will only have to bring me back as soon as possible.

-Thank you so much for your generosity. Without you, we don't know what she would do.

-Bah, we have to stick together! It was even worse when I was young.. Corsets that choked you even more than the things I'm selling today ! I say, I can't wait the day we can go out without it, half naked, like you men, without being attacked at every street corner! It's not Mandy that would bother ! Beautiful melons as big and as firm as the pectorals of my late husband !

You agree, but you don't know what to say. You may have an empty look, because Georgina allows you to leave.

-Ah, you men ! Go find your beauty and make us beautiful children, it will make my pleasure !

-Yes Ma’am. Thank you Ma’am.

You leave the shop, a second opaque plastic bag in your hands. Even through it, you can feel the fabric of the cup. The more Mandy's breasts grow, the less they seems thick, padded, comfortable. As for the shoulder's straps, they must be tight to cut off her skin. You can't wait the day she'll be able to wear custom made bras for her ease. You send her a text.

"I have groceries and bras, Georgina didn't charge me and she added several sizes just in case."

The answer is quick to arrive.

"Really ? Wonderful ! I'm gonna jump on her neck when I see her. How long before you get in?"

"An hour, I just went out"

"Too looooong..."

You strat to write, but another one appears.

"Here's a little something that will make you want to come even more faster..."

A few seconds later, your reward appears on your screen. It's been a while since you're used to her chest, but your mouth is opening and it takes little to make you drool.

She never sent photos of her completely naked, preferring provocation in exciting clothes. Sometimes she sends you her pretty face. Sometimes full body in a simple, wise, accompanied by her long hair that always makes you fall in love with her when you gaze at them. This time, they are tied over her head, revealing her neck, shoulders and thin arms. She seems to come out of the shower, a few drops still bead of her soft skin A new pair of diving breasts, with monstrous cleavage, overflowing beyond a towel about to explode.

You totally understand the need for new bras. At sight of the nose, only the widest will fit.

And sh's only 21 years old. And she has not finished her growth yet.

In size, yes. Not in cup size.

A new text appears.

"Have you choosed your pizza yet ?"

"I don't know, I'm in a mood for a snack right now. A stuffed sandwich, if you know what I mean ;-)"

“I thought you was in a romantic mood ? Candles of for lightning, not for BDSM, we agrée ?”

"You're impossible, as your jokes"

"No, I'm real. Why don't you touch me, if you don't believe ? I'm still waiting for my brave bra knight ;-) ".

The bus is here. You close your phone, ranks right at the bottom of your pocket so that no one can suspect your activities, and you sit down in a quiet corner. 

Something tells you that you will not have time for eating tonight.

__________

Model is MandaDawn, on Patreon and Onlyfans. That photo is clearly not the best, from two or three years ago when she was on tumblr, but I don’t know why, it inspired me with the force of a train. I barely touched her story since her breasts are effectively still growing, for an actual X cup.

[slothssassin]

I was tagged by @vermiliondrug to do this, thanks a lot ♥ Tagging @starsandskies @briarfox13 @alyssalenko and whoever else wants to share their review :)

I posted 1.997 times in 2021

127 posts created (6%)

1870 posts reblogged (94%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 14.7 posts.

I added 1.659 tags in 2021

#q - 436 posts

#mass effect - 359 posts

#dragon age - 201 posts

#fallout 4 - 171 posts

#lol - 98 posts

#dai - 89 posts

#my art - 89 posts

#happy tag - 84 posts

#vtm - 66 posts

#artblog reblog - 66 posts

Longest Tag: 121 characters

#not to be pissed or anything causw then theres someone calling me begging for likes again but what the hell happened here

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

WIP Day

Yet again, a WIP of Em. Will I ever get tired or drawing her? No, I certainly won’t.

Tagged by @starsandskies @briarfox13 @commandershepardshtole and @coronerandundersheriff thanks a lot! Tagging you guys back and also @scarlettkat86 @liaorban-art and @its-sixxers but no pressure as always!

38 notes • Posted 2021-02-13 14:36:35 GMT

#4

OC Introduction - Nancy Rhine

I made this template a while ago but thought it’s time to bring it back as I miss reading and talking about OCs - feel free to use it! Tag me if you do, I’d love to learn about your OCs! For now, I’m tagging @djfatchip​​ @its-sixxers​​ @liaorban​@tarberrymentats​​ @briarfox13​​ @obvidalous​​ @mayihavethisdanse​​ @starsandskies​​ @bellaciaofallout​ @lookbluesoup​ @charomiami​ @alongtidesoflight​ @vixils​ @elvhenfairy​ and whoever else would like to introduce one (or more) of their OCs. No pressure as usual! And beware, it’s very long :D

Fandom: Fallout 4

Role: Sole Survivor

BASICS

Full Name: Nancy Elena Rhine

Nickname(s): Nance, General. Danse calls her “Darling” sometimes, but only when they’re alone.

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Straight

Occupation and Titles: General of the Minutemen

Birthday & Age: 5th of May 2045, 32 in 2287

Physical description: Tall & lean; white skin; jet black hair with soft waves, usually in a bob up to her chin, in the Wasteland it gets a bit longer and she often keeps it in a bun instead; bright and piercing blue eyes

Clothing style: Functional in the Wasteland - jeans, leather jackets, tops, armour, boots. Loves fingerless gloves. When she’s at a settlement for a longer time she also likes wearing colourful blouses and sometimes even a dress. Mostly dark colours, blue and green tones.

BACKGROUND

Nancy grew up with her parents and her two brothers in Pittsburgh. They were a happy family and got along well until Nancy’s mother from illness died when she was only 16. It was hard for the Bakers, but they tried to live on. A few years later Nancy moved to Boston to study law. She worked as a lawyer for a short time but never really felt happy about it. One day she was brave enough, quit her job and went back to university to study her true passion - biology. After graduating she worked as a researcher on insects - during this time she also met Nate Rhine. They got married 3 years later and, even though Nancy suffered from a miscarriage, they were leading a happy life in Sanctuary together with Nate’s brother Noah, his wife and their son Shaun.

After the events in Vault 111, Nancy is left alone, scared and broken. She can’t believe her eyes when she meets Codsworth again - they both know they should look for Nancy’s nephew, but they allow each other some time to calm down. Nancy suffers from a major episode of depression during that time, only starting to feel better after meeting Preston and the Minutemen. Hesitantly, they all decide to make Sanctuary their home again. Nancy loosely follows the trail for Shaun - she thinks she probably has to accept she doesn’t have a nephew anymore. Only with the help of the people she meets along the way she starts to see the future in a brighter light again.

Her relationship with Danse grows slowly - especially because she doesn’t trust the Brotherhood at all. When she took him with her, she even started to dislike him for certain things he said, and she thought that feeling was mutual. After a few days though they got to know each other a little better, Nancy learnt she could rely on him and started to suspect that he’s not sharing every view with the Brotherhood and that he had quite a few doubts in them. She learnt that he had never known a real life outside of the BoS and that she should consider how important they are to him. After that point, he grew on her quickly, especially for his elaborate speech and for the amazement with which he looked at old things from the days before the war.

It takes a long time before they get together, but they become inseparable. To fully commit to their relationship, Nancy gifts Danse Nate’s old wedding ring.

COMBAT & SKILLS

Preferred fighting style: 2 Pistols for quick combat, but usually she uses a Sniper Rifle and fights from a distance. She prefers to stay in cover and tries to kill as many enemies as possible before being seen

Favourite weapon(s): Pistols, Sniper Rifles. A knife if she has no ammo at all. 

Special skills: She’s fit, can run quickly and hides well. She had her troubles after leaving Vault 111 but became a skilled fighter after some time. She’s also good at crafting things and often works on improving settlements. Plus she’s a great cook.

RELATIONSHIPS

Family: Her parents (Elena and Michael Baker) both died before the bombs fell. She had two brothers, Patrick and Marcus. Patrick had a wife and a son. Both brothers moved to Canada before the bombs fell - Nancy doesn’t know what happened to them but is quite sure they both died. When Nancy was in her mid-twenties she married Nate Rhine. They settled down in Sanctuary with Nate’s brother Noah and his wife Cindy. While Nancy lost a child, Cindy and Noah had Shaun. Codsworth is part of her family too.

Love interest: Danse

Best friends: Nick, Deacon, MacCready and Preston

PERSONALITY

Positive traits: Intelligent, cooperative, charismatic, confident

Negative traits: Critical, mistrusting, overthinking, materialistic

Likes: Insects, especially bees and butterflies. Animals. Makeup and pretty clothes that remind her of the good old times. A fine drink.

See the full post

45 notes • Posted 2021-01-06 14:44:51 GMT

#3

Look at this gorgeous Commission of Remy and Shane I got from @didiher ♥ Aren't they cute? And the chicks in the background I'm so in love! Thanks so much @didiher I totally love it!

50 notes • Posted 2021-10-30 13:33:30 GMT

#2

I commissioned @codenameyan to draw my two Fallout 76 OCs Emilia Goodridge and Marius Lind and I’m so in love with how they turned out! 😍

This is the first art I got of Marius and it’s exactly how I imagine him, that cute smile kills me! And Em looks so beautiful and thoughtful! Thank you so so much Yan, I absolutely adore how they turned out ♥

54 notes • Posted 2021-01-24 18:46:51 GMT

#1

Dash is dead, or full of long text posts and nothing else.

I have a need of new blogs! Could you please like or reblog this if you post:

Stardew Valley! I'm currently so into it!

Fallout, especially 4 and 76

Bioware aka Mass Effect and Dragon Age

Skyrim

Harry Potter (Hogwarts Mystery)

Horizon Zero Dawn

Ghost of Tsushima

Games, games are good

Memes

Also I loooooove seeing other people's OCs and learning about them! And art!

251 notes • Posted 2021-02-09 10:37:37 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 3: The Library

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

Chapter warnings: bit of smut at the end...

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

You placed your books on the nightstand and slumped onto your bed. The pillows caught your face in a soft hug and you felt the weight of the entire day sink into you. Your roommates were gone nearly all the time, working most hours of the night in the common room study area. It used to be lonely, constantly coming back to a room with three empty beds, but now you reveled in the emptiness.

He deserves it.

Professor Heimdall’s words bounced around in your mind.

He killed someone. A close friend of his father’s.

You tried picturing a younger version of your professor, whom you barely knew, being trapped in Azkaban. Is he truly a murderer? You thought about that and could not find a simple answer. Sure, he had a cold disposition. However, it was encased in a strange, jovial warmth that both intimidated and intrigued you.

His cool blue eyes entered your mind, and you wondered what sort of menacing secrets he held behind them. As awful as you tried to make him, there was something about it all that did not feel right. The way his lips subtly twitched when he threw ingredients into the cauldron and the way his eyes lit up when the students applauded him did not scream “evil” to you. You pictured his face in your vision and the fear in his eyes as the dead surrounded him. It was the face of a man trapped in a hopeless situation.

Professor Heimdall was not usually so clinical about his judgments. It surprised you he doled out such a firm statement. And to listen to him tell you that you were having silly dreams was even worse.

Freya…

Why had he uttered your name? That alone was proof enough. He needed your help. Professor Heimdall was hiding something else from you and you needed to find out what it was. Fine Heimdall, if you won’t help me, then I’ll do it myself.

You walked out of the common room and headed to the courtyard. Dusk was approaching, but there were still some students out, so your presence was not too suspicious. You walked across a couple lounging on a picnic blanket. The boy had his head in his partner’s lap. They giggled about something and took no notice of anyone else in their vicinity. You smiled at their affections wistfully.

The grass was freshly cut, and the air had a rich smell to it. You walked over to your favourite willow tree - the one that did not whomp - and sat at the trunk. There was a breeze which picked up your curly locks and moved them about your face. You tied your thick hair back and crossed your legs.

You breathed in and out, trying to remember Heimdall’s exercises. The scent of flowers in bloom distracted you for a few minutes until you could grasp some focus. It took several seconds of listening to your breath until you found yourself in a calm state. Your thoughts slipped out of your mind like water through your fingers. Your mind was empty, waiting to be filled. In this state of bored concentration, you felt the stirring of a question: What must I do?

It was the only question that floated in your mind; like a cloud drifting across a clear sky. Then you pictured something. A blurry image that slowly came into focus. It was a book, but the letters were unintelligible. It was on the shelves of the restricted section. The book was dark red, leather bound and cracked along the spine. As the image cleared, you saw the title: “Spells for the Common House Cat”.

“What the hell?” You said aloud. The vision dissolved as soon as you lost focus. You leaned back on the trunk and repeated the ridiculous title to yourself. Perhaps Heimdall was right, and it was all just a silly dream. How could this have been an important vision?

Your first impulse was to return to the common room, go to sleep and forget about the whole damned thing. Instead, you found yourself calculating how to get to the library unseen. Your impulse control was failing you as of late.

It was half an hour before it would be inappropriate to be out and about on the grounds. The sky was darkening quickly. You dashed past Skurge as he grumpily mopped the floors and slid into the library. There was a section on Magical Tax Law near the back you hid in; the books and the floor were so dusty here that you hoped no one would find you.

A few aisles away, there were students roaming the shelves.

“Come on Victoria, I can barely read anymore my eyes are going to fall out!” A low voice said.

“You’re clearly going to fail potions. We have our O.W.L.’s this year and I have to at least get Exceeds Expectations,” said a voice, higher pitched.

Fifth year potions, you thought. It was already an immensely tough course at the time with Professor Rattowl. You felt sympathy for the students.

“Have you heard, Laufeyson’s carryin’ the Slytherin name? He’s been to Azkaban,” said the boy.

The girl, Victoria, gasped. “What! How could they let him teach here?”

The boy said, “well we know how he got the job, when mum’s Headmistress, I guess they'll let anybody do it. I don’t feel safe knowing some felon is creeping around in the school.”

“Yeah, he must have done something awful to get into Azkaban,” she said.

“You know what I think?” he said.

“What?”

As their feet shuffled away, you barely caught his words. “I don’t think it’s no coincidence Rattowl bit the dust right before Laufeyson got here.”

The rest of the conversation was unintelligible whispers as you stood there like a stone and mulled over what they said. After a long silence, you heard the last student leave. The door ominously shut, and the sound echoed through the library. The flames in every lantern went out in succession. You looked out the glass windows, as moonlight was now the only natural luminance that could guide you in the dark.

Their words did not deter you from your path, though the questionable nature of Professor Rattowl’s demise was a new addition to your list of “things to investigate”. Your thoughts dispersed when you heard Skurge coming with his bucket and mop. The wheel squeaked loudly, and you thanked the bucket gods.

You darted into the restricted section. The door had a latch on it, which you carefully opened with your wand, trying not to make a sound. The restricted section was decently large, with tall shelves lining the entire wall. At the back of the area, was a cabinet where several scrolls were placed in rows of small, square cubbies. The bottom part had a cabinet just large enough for two precocious sixth year students to hide in. The doors had a large square cutout where a lattice covering was added. Lucky for those students, they could see if anyone was coming.

You smiled to yourself as you walked over to the cabinet and opened the door. On the bottom right, just above the hinge, was a carving in the wood. “Bad bitches make good witches”. You silently laughed to yourself at Valkyrie’s idea of ‘leaving a mark’.

Long tables extended across the area surrounded by uncomfortable looking wooden chairs. You walked over to the shelves and searched across the volumes for that strangely titled book about cats. Maybe you were crazy, but it was far too late to turn back now.

“Where could you be?” You whispered as your fingers traced the chains along the spine of a book that was as thick as your head.

The sound of the squeaky wheel came from a few bookcases away, and your heart fluttered nervously. You looked at the entrance to the restricted section and wondered if you could make an escape unnoticed. But it was too dangerous, so you crawled inside the bottom of the cabinet and shut the door just as Skurge came by. He was humming to himself and scanned the premises as he mopped. After a few minutes, he continued down the aisles and you no longer heard his voice.

You sighed and were about to crawl out of the cabinet when you heard voices. You went back into position and closed the door, staying absolutely still.

First you heard a woman’s voice. She was laughing in a flirty sort of way.

Then you heard another voice, deeper. “You’re a bad influence, aren’t you?” Your stomach dropped. It was Professor Laufeyson’s voice.

“Hmmm, let’s go in here, Skurge is done with his rounds.”

Was that Professor Sif? Your suspicions were confirmed when you saw Sif and Laufeyson enter the restricted section. She led him by the hand to the table in front of the cabinet where you hid. She leaned back on it and you saw her undo the clasp in her bun as Laufeyson approached her. Her black hair cascaded down her shoulders seductively. The look in Laufeyson’s eyes caused a tremor through your body. You wondered if Sif was blushing as hard as you were.

Your heart rate shot up when her hand reached over to him as she unbuttoned his shirt. He ran his hand down her arm and you closed your eyes, unsure of what to do. Of all the places to be, of all the worst times.

“You are quite a minx, aren’t you?” He said in a low voice. It was almost a purr.

Your eyes snapped open to look at him. His gaze was curious and inviting. He cupped Sif’s face and when his pink tongue came out to lick his lips, you bit yours to keep from breathing too loudly.

“Only when I want to be,” she said.

They kissed. You could hear the smacking of lips and clashing of tongues. You nearly gasped and put a hand on your mouth to stop yourself. A part of you felt guilty watching such a lewd display, but you could not look away.

She slipped off her cloak to reveal a blue button up blouse and black skirt. She undid the blouse. You saw him move her hair aside and kiss her neck. He traced his tongue up her jawline and sucked on her earlobe. Dear lord, help me. You wished you were anywhere else, and yet your nipples hardened underneath your bra.

“Why my brother doesn’t see the beauty of what you are, I know not,” he said, running a hand up her stomach. She moaned a little and leaned back further so that she was sitting on the edge of the table.

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” she said between breaths.

“Why don’t you show me?” He said as he pushed her down on the table and opened her blouse. You saw her breasts openly now as he walked in between her legs.

She hoisted up her skirt while he undid his pants. Your mouth was gaping open. Sif lifted herself up on her elbows so you could no longer see past Laufeyson’s belly button anymore. You moved your head up for a better view, but hit your head on the roof of the cabinet. Your heart stopped as you looked through the hatching and saw him look in your direction. Surprise flashed on his face for the briefest of seconds before he arranged his features back into an aroused state.

Professor Sif turned her head, “what was tha- “

He rammed himself into her, and she cried out with a gasp. She writhed on the table, arching her back. He placed his hands on her breasts and pinched her pink nipples as he thrust into her. You watched shamelessly, with a hand on our mouth as your body reacted to the scene. You looked up at his face and froze when you saw him looking right at you. He held her down and thrust into her with an almost violent ferocity. You felt a strange heat in your entire body as his gaze transfixed you in such a grossly inappropriate state.

He came in a short groan, eyes only leaving you once Professor Sif got up. Her skin almost glowed from the sweat and you wondered if that afterglow was always so beautiful.

“That was…” she said in a dreamy voice.

She slowly buttoned up her clothes. There was a section of hair at the back of her head that was sticking up. You might have laughed had you not been thinking about the needful look on Laufeyson’s face just before he came. It was seared into your mind and you felt your lower abdomen tighten at the thought.

The professor did up his pants and walked towards the cabinet, looking at you with an unreadable expression, eyebrows drawn in. A lock of hair fell around his temples, and he pushed it back with his hand. His abdominal muscles were clearly visible as he buttoned up his shirt. You saw the slanted lines on his hips that led to a place that you dared not imagine. Heat rippled through you at the notion.

He turned around in front of you so that all you could see were the backs of his black trousers. Was he...blocking you from view so that Professor Sif would not see? Surely not.

“Now, can you tell me where Odin’s journals are?” Professor Laufeyson said.

“What?”

“Oh, you know, there were certain…works that Odin wrote and left here. What I was talking about earlier today. Do you know where they are? I would imagine they’d be here in the restricted section. Though I have looked and there’s not much, that’s useful here.”

She straightened her shirt and looked at him. “I believe Headmistress Frigga had a cleaning done and removed several books from this section. They may be somewhere in her office now.”

“Ah, I see.” He leaned back on the cabinet.

“Is this why you wanted us to come to the library?” She scoffed. “Loki, you could have just asked if all you wanted were your father’s books,” Sif said.

Professor Sif said no more, rushing out of the restricted section and slamming the door.

Professor Laufeyson called to her, “as I recall, I came to you with a question. And you took our conversation elsewhere.” He lowered his voice then. “Nonetheless, this was far more entertaining,” he said, drumming his fingers on the surface just above you. He stepped away from the cabinet, and headed out the door without another word.

Your heart pounded in your ears. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

[restingdomface]

Lan Wangji makes extremely deadpan videos of his daily life with Wei Wuxian and their kids and nephews (and nieces if JC and JYL had more). This would include:

*shows a video of LWJ staring out the window for a solid thirty seconds, face entirely unchanged and somewhat disappointed, turns camera around to show Wei Wuxian and the kiddos putting mentos in soda bottles and trying to chuck them at each other, camera pans back to his face, still entirely devoid of emotion*

That one time Jin Ling got stuck up a tree and Wei Wuxian tried to get him down and also got stuck up there and now the other kids are looking for a ladder while LWJ just watches them from the patio, drinking tea. The kids finally give up and shamefully come to LWJ and ask him for help, he gets his husband and nephew down without a word.

The one where he buried 5yo A-Yuan in a pile of bunnies and got scolded by Lan Xichen for it because they might bite him if they get annoyed with him.

There is an entire compilation of rabbits that won’t leave him alone. Climb into his lap. Follow him with every step. Get excited when he comes outside. Hear a guqin and start looking for him. Just. He’s the rabbit whisperer. One of the black ones is just about always with him.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian interacting in any capacity is going to involve a lot of hitting each other and pushing each other over. Only-child kids think they hate each other, but people with siblings are all ‘no no, siblings are just Like That’. People think Yanli is all innocent till they realize she def only tells them to stop when she thinks they might actually get on each other’s nerves. She’s in the ‘boys will rough house and probably only have one collective braincell’ category.

People won’t stop asking him if he speaks so he vaguely makes mentions of having extremely low verbility. They ask if he does sign and he’s not really sure how (lol cause words hard) to explain to them that sign doesn’t really help when the issue is more of him not having much to say tbh. This is apparently the wrong thing to say because then people start being all ‘yeah I get you, I’m pretty dumb too, at least you’re pretty’ and he’s just sorta sitting there with this smacked fish look on his face while WWX can’t stop laughing next to him at the very idea of someone calling his husband slow. Wow. LWJ just sorta finally gets out that he has like two degrees and teaches giqun lessons and it’s amazing. The kids find out about it and can’t stop laughing for hours.

“Hey, why did you name your son ‘sorrow and longing’?” *commense 10 minute video of that time Wei Wuxian got arrested for something to do with a satanic ritual and that’s when LWJ ended up with custody of his adopted son for the next three years and he was in a really angsty mood tbh so it just kinda happened* not a single commenter expected that, even less so when he mentions that they weren’t even together at that point

Films what the viewers think is a prank at first, where he pours a dangerous amount of chili powder into a mug of hot chocolate (with a completely straight face) and then brings it to WWX who takes a drink and makes a dreamy little sigh and goes ‘you always know how to make it just like I want it’ and no one is sure how to react to this video. It’s like watching someone peel and eat a lemon.

You know that video of the girl with the deadpan voice saying she went downstairs to take a shower and there was something brown in the bottom of the tub but it turned out to be potatoes and she’s all ‘not a problem I was expecting, but a problem I can handle’? Okay so that’s how he talks in every video. WWX hands him a baby and he talks to them exactly like that. People ask if he’s good with kids and WWX is all ‘yeah, he’s not just a rabbit whisperer, he’s a baby whisperer too, he’s super great with kids’ *shows LWJ talking to a baby in That Voice while the baby looks at him in utter adoration*

“What’s it like growing up gay? Do you ever get shit for it?” LWJ.exe has stopped working, he has only met one straight couple the same age as him and they’re his sister in law. His brother has three boyfriends, one of which is his brother-in-law. He doesn’t know what a het-er-o-sexual is and he doesn’t want to. Pretty sure his uncle is acearo and hasn’t seen his parents in like 20 years.

LWJ: ‘I apologize for being so emotional in my last video.’ *viewers scrambled to find what video he meant because they ain’t ever seen that man emotional before but end up finding a video where Sizhui told him he loved him and called him papa and gave him a hug while WWX filmed, you can barely see LWJ’s left eye twitching and he pets Sizhui’s head for a moment* viewers are very confused on how this constitutes emotionalism.

Viewers ask to see his brother ‘you know, the one who apparently has three boyfriends’ and LWJ posts a video of LXC passed out on a couch with like three fully grown men all in various states of sliding off onto the floor while the teens play a game of ‘who can stack the most random objects on uncle’s bodies without them waking’ because apparently LWJ and WWX were gone for a weekend and the uncles were supposed to watch the kids (like, all ten of them probably, there’s probably a lot of kids) and it’s Sizhui filming the whole thing cause he’s the ‘good one’ and never does bad things. But he’s also like Auntie Yanli and is totally gonna egg them on from the sidelines.

WWX hands LWJ literally any food and LWJ will eat it all with a completely straight face but as soon as WWX is turned around LWJ is chugging a glass of milk with a look of death on his face. The kiddos straight up can’t stomach his cooking.

😭 someone asks why their hair is all so long and LWJ puts up a video of chatty adorable Sizhui braiding WWX’s hair while he tells him about his day at school. It’s. Too. Cute.

The never ending debate on if LWJ’s deadpan personality/speech is acting or not. No matter how much everyone assures them he’s really just Like That people just aren’t convinced.

Someone points out several times that in their house they have a room with a satanic symbol on the door. That’s just WWX’s home office it’s all good. This is treated as ‘lol WWX is so dramatic’ for like four whole weeks before LWJ posts a video of Sizhui standing outside the office looking nervous. ‘What’s wrong?’ He says. ‘Dad called me into his office.’ Sizhui replies. ‘WWX must be a very strict father,’ the viewers think. That’s not it. That’s not it at all tbh. That video got flagged on like four different platforms and kept getting removed for graphic images and half their viewers don’t. Want. To know. What happened. In that office. (WWX doesn’t even see what the big deal was, that goat was dead when he bought it shut up.)

The others do videos sometimes too lol. Videos include

Jin Ling’s compilation of ‘Mom, what’s for dinner’ and the answer is Always Lotus root and pork rib soup. Someone asks ‘lol she must make that often’ and JL is all ‘lol often, fairly sure she got same-food syndrome, it’s always soup’.

Lan Sizhui at like 17 years old: The one true secret I’ve never told my dads? My most shameful lie? Rabbits aren’t my favorite. My favorite is butterflies. *proceeds to cuddle a bun* I’m sorry Mister Bun, but you just aren’t nearly as pretty as butterflies.

Shaky video of someone sitting on the couch, pointed at NMJ: Brother, while you’re away on vacation with your boyfriends, I don’t plan on leaving this spot for even a minute. NMJ: Oh yeah? What’ll you do when you have to use the bathroom? NHS: Listen, I found a guy on Craig’s List who’s exact fetish is lazy young men who refuse to move and also diapers exist and he’ll be my slave for the week if I let him change me. NMJ: ...I’m taking you with me on vacation. NHS: Yay! NMJ: I’m also taking your phone away. NHS: -wait, no- NMJ: Too late.

Jin Ling: JiuJiu, I spilt soda on your Valentino white belt. Jiang Cheng: *incomprehensible sputtering* -soda on my Valentino white belt-!

Sizhui: *brings Jingyi a bowl of food* Here. Jingyi: Thank you! *takes a bite, face falls in terror, gives Sizhui a betrayed look* Sizhui: Dad’s worried I’m getting sick, he said this would clear my chest cold up. He didn’t consider what horrible things it would do to my bowels instead. Please eat it, he gets sad when I don’t finish what he makes. Jingyi: *glaring* Just dump it down the garbage disposal! Sizhui: *def has a fever if he didn’t think of that* Oh. Good idea.

LWJ: *swaying in place* WWX: This bitch drunk as hell. LWJ: I’m. Gonna comit. A crime. WWX: *crying a little* I love drunk hubby times. A full shot of vodka and he’s not gonna remember any of this. Hey kids, I’m taking Papa on a walk! Sizhui’s in charge!

Zizhen: *sitting quietly on the couch while LSZ, LJY and JL all argue behind him somewhere, covering his mouth with a slightly horrified look* Jingyi: I mean, that’s not fair at all! Who HASNT made out with their cousin at one point or another? Ling: ... Sizhui: You said you’d never bring that up again please shut up. Ling: ...!!!!!! Zizhen: Amazing.

That one time the kiddos hypnotized Jin Ling into thinking he was a kitten. The adults all thought it was really weird that he was finally going through the whole ‘pretending to be an animal’ phase at like ten, but then the kiddos fessed up to learning how to hypnotize and they aren’t sure how to fix it. WWX instigated a rule that no brainwashing is allowed outside his office from now on.

People ask how WWX and LWJ met and it’s told from the POV of Lan Qiren who progressively getting drunker as he tells the story of the terrible high school romance that he had to watch between bad boy WWX and his precious baby angel nephew that made him consider quitting and how no one believed them when they insisted they didn’t get together till after WWX got out of jail for the cow incident.

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 23: A Hat

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Jefferson tries to get help

Read on AO3

Inside a cramped little cottage in a cramped little town in the mountains of a flat planet that flies through space on the back of four elephants on top of a turtle, he is having dinner with his family. 

Technically, they are Leo’s family, but technicalities have never troubled him. These people have welcomed him into their lives. This smoke-filled, boisterous cottage is more home to him than the solemn rock quarry where Jefferson spent the first few miserable decades of his life. 

The meal is mostly over, but everyone lingers over pudding and conversation and beer. A few of his sisters-in-law have gathered up the dishes and are headed back to the kitchen for the washing up.

His daughter sits on his lap. She is almost too big for the gesture and maybe that’s why she wants it so much. It’s certainly why he lets her do it. How much longer will he have with his little girl? Even if they have escaped from the Queen’s curse, they cannot escape time. There will only be a few more years before Grace is more a woman than a baby. She’ll be as pretty as her mother, and just as smart, winding her way through the hearts of everyone who meets her.

But for now, his girl sits on his lap and listens to her family. Beside him, Leo squeezes his arm. 

She leans into him. “No matter where we go, it’s never better than being home.”   

He smiles at her, his wife, his life. Her face is ruddy from drink and smoke. Her blonde hair curls in the heat, teasing wisps escape from her bun. Her plump curves fill out her dress like bursting sausage. She has a shine of bacon grease around her mouth and a touch of beer foam on the tip of her nose. In all the lands in all the worlds, he has never seen anyone more beautiful. 

Somewhere down the table, a baby cries. One of his many sisters-in-law is trying to soothe one of Grace’s many cousins, without much success. The infant has been fussing all night, and now the poor thing’s wails have drowned out the riotous conversation.

“‘Ere now!” Leona’s mother calls down from the head of the table. “Are you going to help that poor babby or do I ‘ave to?”

His sister-in-law--a washed out, nervous looking woman whose name no one can remember--looks gratefully up at Nanny Ogg. “Can you?”

Nanny Ogg snorts. This grande dame--which she translates as “big woman”--is the matriarch of the Ogg clan and the second-most powerful witch in the Ramptops Mountains, though she doesn’t try as hard. She’s had five husbands (and married three of them), fifteen children, and more grandchildren and great-grandchildren than anyone in Lancre can count. 

The baby is passed from hand to hand down the table, squalling all the way. When it finally gets to the head of the table, it is placed into the very solid arms of a round old woman dressed in black. She has a pipe, a pint, and a black pointy hat. (There’s nothing magic about a pointy hat, except that it says that the person underneath it is a witch.) She also has lively dark eyes--like Leo’s, like Grace’s--and the widest grin most people have ever seen.

The current occupant of the old woman’s lap is a mangy ball of fur and claws named Greebo. Though known to pick fights with bears (and not lose), he’s nothing but an old softy to Nanny Ogg. Still, the cat is smart enough to know that he is always second place to any child. As soon as the baby is in the witch’s arms, he scampers out of the way.

Jefferson’s life would have been hell if Nanny Ogg hadn’t given him her approval to marry Leo. They would have married anyway--Leo wouldn’t have let anything stop them--but coming home like this would have been… difficult. There are a dozen tiny ways an Ogg can tell you they don’t like you--and a hundred large and painful ones. But Nanny Ogg’s welcoming nature--and Jefferson’s endless potential to bring her presents from far-off lands--had ensured that they were welcome any time. 

Within a minute of entering Nanny Ogg’s embrace, the screaming baby quiets. Within another minute, it sleeps peacefully, despite the raucous conversation around the table. 

Perched on his knees, Grace looks curious. “Was that magic, Gran?”

“Coo-ee, no, my duck!” Nanny Ogg chuckles. “The day I needs magic to calm a babe is the day you lot can put me in the ground!”

“But you did it so fast!” Grace persists. 

“Coz I been doing it so long,” Nanny Ogg explains. “Ever since your Uncle Jason was a wee thing! There’s a knack to it, but it ain’t magic.”

Grace ponders this for a moment. Children are allowed to speak freely around Nanny Ogg’s table--provided they keep the conversation interesting. “Papa knows a man who does magic.”

Jefferson thinks about explaining, but clearly this is a private conversation.

Nanny Ogg nods sagely. “I imagine your dad knows all kinds of people, the work he does.”

“He was a funny little man,” Grace says. “He has a funny voice and he’s all green.”

“Takes all sorts, luv. We can’t help the way we’re made.”

“He gave me a yellow dress, to match Mama’s pink one. He pulled it out of the air! We were there for--why were we there, Papa?”

“A wedding,” Jefferson answers. “The Dark One and Belle wanted us to be there for their wedding.”

“It was a lovely day,” Leo smiles at him while stroking their daughter’s hair. “Do you remember dancing in that big ballroom, Grace? Remember how he made the instruments play themselves?”

Nanny Ogg snorts. “Sounds like a show-off, if you ask me.”

“Oh he is,” Jefferson agrees. “I don’t know if you’d like him, and Mistress Weatherwax would hate him.”

“Well, there’s not many I don’t like, and there’s not many Esme Weatherwax don’t hate, at least at first.” 

They laugh at that, as they laugh at everything. The conversation moves on to other topics. Later the lot of them move away from the table and into the parlor. Around a fire and more beer, Nanny Ogg brings out her banjo, but the evening still manages to end happily. 

He puts Grace to bed in a room with her cousins, a group of girls near her age. He kisses her and makes sure she has her stuffed rabbit. Then he goes up to the bedroom where Leo is waiting.

His wife is a dream, all satiny pink. All soft and warm and round. Like a sunset cloud with grasping arms. Like candy floss with a libido. She is everything. All the happiness he has now is because of her. This family, this life, their daughter. Everything in his past led to her, everything in the present comes from her, everything in the future will be theirs together. 

They make love, full of food and clumsy with drink. Their lips are loose and sloppy. They giggle and try to stay quiet in this crowded house. Their hands know their bodies. They know how to pleasure each other. They know. They feel. They love. They delight in each other and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

When Jefferson wakes up, everything is gone. 

****

For the ten thousand, three hundred ninetieth time, Jefferson woke up alone. In a giant, empty bed, inside a giant, empty house. He woke up, like he always did, with a gnawing ache in his chest and a burning desire for nothing more than to go back to sleep. Back to his dream. His best dreams were always about them. Leo. Grace. Home.

Sitting up in bed, Jefferson covered his face with his hands and let a dry sob rack through him. Tears would come later. First sob of the morning was always dry.

“Morning” was not the right word. It was a gray spring afternoon, more or less identical to every other gray afternoon he’d woken up in since he was brought over to this world. Over the years--over so many years--he had gotten in the habit of starting his day when most people in Storybrooke began to end theirs. The only reason he woke up at all was to get a chance to see his daughter walk home from school. 

The telescope was in the office, what he tended to think of as the hat room. This side of the massive house faced Main Street. He could see quite a lot--the diner, the Sheriff’s Station, a few important houses. And he had learned quite a lot, just by looking at all these people living their lives. 

Nothing changed in Storybrooke. Children didn’t get older. The old and sick never died. People worked the same jobs no matter how much they hated them. There was a girl he saw walking to and from the diner who had been nine months pregnant for twenty-eight years. Everyone was miserable, alone and unloved in one way or another, but they all carried on with what they thought were their lives. 

Until the day a yellow bug drove into town. 

Looking through the telescope, Jefferson trained his eyes on a lime green winter coat. The coat was bouncing over the shoulders of a young girl as she hopped, skipped and jumped her way around the sidewalk. His throat tightened, as it did every time he saw her. In the lens of the telescope, she looked close enough to reach out and touch. 

Grace was walking with another girl--Jefferson didn’t know her name. She was poor, from Old Town. Her father was gone and her mother worked long hours for low pay. Girls like that didn’t get their accomplishments written up about in the newspaper the way Grace did every time she won the Science Fair. Until a few months ago, Grace had never spoken to this girl. Both of them had walked the same path from the school to the abandoned library, twenty feet apart, every day for twenty-eight years, without ever interacting with each other.

Until the day Sheriff Swan started a youth outreach campaign, and made a point to talk about how much safer kids were if they used the buddy system when they didn’t have an adult around.

Then Grace had looked up from her routine, and she had seen the other girl looking back. Both of them needed someone to walk with. Both of them were looking for a friend. Both of them found one. It was a little thing, but it was a change.

He watched them walk from the library to the house in New Town where Tim and Mia Lewis lived. The people Grace thought were her parents. Every once in a while, they ran an ad in the Storybrooke Daily Mirror--all three of them with big smiles, the adults offering their services in insurance and real estate. 

The lights were off inside the house, so he couldn’t see into the kitchen. He couldn’t see what healthy snacks Mia had made for the girls today. He couldn’t see what game they played to unwind for a bit before Mia made sure they both started their homework. A few hours later, the other girl’s mother would stop by after her shift at Granny’s. He never knew if she thanked Mia for watching her daughter. Maybe it was just understood. Maybe Mia said she was just doing what Sheriff Swan advised, watching out for children who might otherwise get into trouble, being alone and unsupervised.

Once Grace was out of his sight, Jefferson moved the telescope to look around town. Not too many changes today. Archie Hopper was walking his dalmatian. Marco the handyman was making another trip to the hardware store. The stranger on the motorcycle idled outside Marine Automotive; he seemed to be watching Marco. Mrs. Gold was strutting away from the pawn shop with her head held high.

 He watched her, this woman who used to be Belle. It looked like she was going towards City Hall. Curious. Was she applying for a permit? Was there some licence she needed to renew? His fingers itched to pick up the phone and call the Dark One about what he had seen. He was the only other human being in town, the only person who knew the truth about anything. It was just the Dark One, Jefferson, and Queen Regina. 

But he couldn’t bother him too much. They couldn’t raise any more suspicion than they already had with their one secret meeting in the woods. The Dark One was still trying to maintain his cover as “Mr. Gold.” Besides, what difference could it make that Belle was running an errand to City Hall?

With a sigh, Jefferson moved away from the telescope. He’d been awake for more than an hour, it was time to put on pants. 

In no time at all, he had showered, dressed, and chugged down a protein shake. Most days, it was hard for him to summon up the will to cook or eat. He kept his body going with prepackaged meal replacements. They tasted like crap, but at least he didn’t have to think about them. He left cooking for people who thought they had something to live for. 

He made his way to the front doors. The house had a wide driveway that ran under a large overhang. Whenever visitors came, they could disembark from the vehicles and go into the house without the hazards of rain or snow. 

If he ever had visitors.

At the moment, and for the past twenty-eight years, all he had was the most recent copy of the Storybrooke Daily Mirror. It wasn’t a bastion of hard-hitting journalism, but for a long time it had been the only way he could know anything about the town he spent so much time looking at. The newspaper had given him names to put to the faces--Mayor Mills, Mr. Gold, Sheriff Humbert, and later Sheriff Swan. It had been a lifeline, and he still clung to it. For nearly three decades, the dates on the front page had been the only changes he had seen anywhere in this town. 

Today’s date was April 2nd, 2012. The headline was about the continued search for a missing person. Kathryn Nolan, a paralegal working at the firm of Duke & Duke, had been missing for more than a month. There had been sightings of a woman matching her description in various parts of Storybrooke, but by the time the police arrived, all traces of her had gone. Sheriff Swan encouraged anyone with any information regarding Mrs. Nolan’s whereabouts to call the station.

On the next page, there was an editorial decrying the lack of effort put forth by Kathryn’s husband, David Nolan, to aid in the search. Sydney Glass stopped just short of outright accusing Mr. Nolan of gross negligence or foul play. He only noted the amount of time Mr. Nolan spent with the schoolteacher, Miss Blanchard. The article concluded with speculation that perhaps Mrs. Nolan was not missing at all, but had run away from a terminally unhappy home.      

After finishing the paper, he put it away in the office closet and went back to the telescope. The lights were on in the house where Grace lived. The other girl had been picked up. Tim Lewis was home from work. The three of them were making dinner together. Mia was stirring a pot of chili and Tim was taking a bag of corn out of the freezer.

“She doesn’t like corn, guys,” Jefferson muttered to himself. “She won’t eat the chili if you put corn in it. You’ve been taking care of her for twenty-eight years and you’ve never figured that out.”

He shook his head and looked away. Sometimes it was maddening to watch the town like this, to see these people make the same mistakes, over and over. Emma Swan had made some changes, but there were still so many ways to be unhappy.

He watched dinner in the Lewis household. He watched Grace carefully pick out all the corn from her bowl of chili and set it into her paper napkin. He watched Mia shake her head at his daughter. He watched Tim lecture her about wasting food. He watched Grace scowl as she picked up the napkin and dumped the offending corn kernels back into the chili. She ate, but she looked like she was going to vomit.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. He had to get to her, somehow. He had to let her know that he was her father. He had to get her back to Leo.

After dinner, the family watched TV. Grace sat on a couch between Tim and Mia, and flickering light bathed over all of them. They weren’t bad people, her fake-parents. They did love her, and they did the best they could to raise her to be healthy and successful in this world. Whoever Tim and Mia had been before, they were victims of the curse too. They had never meant to steal another couple’s daughter. 

He had to put this right. He had to end this curse. Jefferson didn’t have much power, but he would do anything to put his family back together. 

He moved the telescope away from Grace. After a brief search, he found the big pink house in Old Town where the Dark One lived. The lights were on, but no one was visible through the windows. If he called on the phone, the Dark One would tell him to be patient. The Savior would break the curse in due time. 

But Jefferson had already waited too long. 

Scanning through town, he set his sights on the Sheriff’s station. Storybrooke was peaceful enough that most of the cops could hang up their guns in time for dinner. They were all long gone by now. Even Sheriff Swan was packing up and getting ready to go home for the night. 

Perfect. 

Picking up the sleek, silver cordless phone, Jefferson punched in the numbers he had seen in the newspaper. Through the telescope, he could see Emma Swan hear the phone ringing. She slumped and grimaced in the way of everyone being clawed back into a job they thought was done for the day. Then she straightened up, and picked up the receiver on her desk.

“Sheriff’s station, this is Emma.”

Jefferson cleared his throat. “Yeah, is this the number to call if somebody saw Kathryn Nolan?”

Perking up, Emma fumbled on her desk for a pen and paper. “It sure is. Who am I talking to?”

That question was too complicated to get into. “Yeah, I don’t know for sure if it was Kathryn Nolan, but it looked like a woman in her mid-thirties, caucasian, looked kinda haggard. I, uh, I tried to talk to her, but she just kept walking through the woods.”

“Which woods are those? Where was this?”

“Oh, yeah, it was the north woods. You ever been up on Angus Drive?”

“Can’t say that I have. Still kind of new to the area.”

“Yeah, well that’s where she was. About ten minutes ago I saw her, she was walking towards town. Like I said, I tried to get her attention, but she didn’t listen. I didn’t wanna try to chase after her. Might scare her, you know. Make things worse.”

“Right, right,” Emma said. “So, north woods, Angus Drive, ten minutes ago. And what was your name?”

Jefferson hung up the phone. Then he got his coat and a scarf. It was time to go for a walk.  

****

There were several cars in the massive garage of the house where Jefferson had been a prisoner. For the first twenty-eight years, he hadn’t been able to open the garage door to get them on the road. Even after Emma had rolled in, the cars were still useless. None of them had gasoline.

So Jefferson walked. He had walked along the highway and through the woods and over the town line as far as he could before something terrible happened. He walked into town sometimes, trying to find a way out. When he’d noticed “Mr. Gold” acting strangely, he had walked to the pawn shop.

At this point, he knew the town better than anyone else. Who knows the shape of a cage better than the captive inside? He knew the borders and boundaries, especially the area around the house. He knew where the road made a wicked hairpin turn, where someone who was still kind of new to the area wouldn’t know what was coming and could be caught off guard. 

The yellow Volkswagen had better brakes than he thought--Emma stopped short of actually hitting him when he emerged from the woods onto the road in front of her. He’d been willing to take the hit, half-curious to see if the curse would let any injury last longer than a week or so. 

Emma’s quick driving stopped him from actually getting hurt, but the collision was close enough that he could fall to the ground in a convincing show. She stopped the car and got out when she saw him. 

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

On the gravel shoulder of the highway, Jefferson groaned and clutched his leg.

“Sir? Sir, can you talk? I’m Emma Swan, do I need to call for EMTs?”

“No,” Jefferson gritted his teeth, swallowed the imaginary pain. “No, I live around here. I’ll be fine. Can you just get me back to my house?”

For just a moment, she hesitated. “Uh, sure. Yeah, let’s get you inside, at least.”

She helped him up and into the passenger seat of the bug. Then she began to drive.

“So where do you live, Mr…?”

“Angus Drive.” He answered only the question she had said out loud. “It’s up ahead.”

 “Funny.” Now that the moment of panic had passed, Emma seemed less willing to accept half-answers. “I just got a call about that address. A man said he saw a missing person out this way. Maybe you saw her when you were out. A blonde woman in her mid-thirties?”

He shook his head. “That sounds like your description, Sheriff.”

“First, I’m not in my mid-thirties. Second, how did you know I’m the Sheriff?”

“I read the paper. And who else would be getting a call about a missing person? And, you’ve got your badge on your hip.”

She frowned. “Guess that all checks out. Yeah, I’m Sheriff Swan. What’s your name?”

Again, Jefferson didn’t answer. “This is the house on the right.”

“A house?” Emma said as she parked under the awning. “This looks more like a hotel! Do you have a big family or something?”

Jefferson opened the door, but made sure to wait for her to help him out of the car. “No,” he said. “It’s just me.”

“The sign on the mailbox says Dogdson.” 

“Sure does.”

Leaning on Emma, Jefferson pretended to hobble up the stairs to get into the front door. The curse had never given him a key to this house, so he always left it unlocked. Someday,  when the curse was broken, he would find a way to lock the door behind him and walk away a free man. He would take Grace and walk all the way to the Discworld if he had to.

“Where should I put you?” Emma asked once they were in the foyer.

“Closest living room is over there.”

She set him up on one of the white leather couches with his “bad” leg propped up on the arm. “Want me to take a look at it?”

“No, no, I’ll be fine. Listen, I’m kind of an amateur cartographer. Upstairs, I’ve got maps for all of these woods. They could be useful to you, since you don’t know the area well.”

Hands on her hips, Emma Swan looked down at him. She looked shrewd, suspicious. Kind of like Leo, only skinny. “I never told you I don’t know the area.”

Jefferson grinned. What was the old saying about honesty? Better to tell the truth because then you don’t have to keep track of your lies? “I guess you didn’t.”  

“The only person I told that to lately was a man on the phone who also didn’t tell me his name.” Emma sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch so they were on the same level. “Did you actually see Kathryn Nolan around here?”

He didn’t stop grinning. “No.”

“And your leg isn’t hurt at all.”

It wasn’t a question, but he still answered. “No.”

“Can you give me a single good reason why I shouldn’t arrest you on the very serious charge of Wasting the Sheriff’s Time?”

Jefferson sat up. “I do need your help,” he said. “But I thought if I told you what was going on, you would think I was crazy.”

Emma didn’t blink at that. “People who might be crazy need just as much help as people who might be sane. Let’s start from the beginning: Tell me your name.”

“Jefferson,” he answered immediately.

“Jefferson,” she repeated. “Is that a first name or a last name?”

“First.”

“And the last name?”

He didn’t really have one. Few people in the old world did. “Ogg,” he answered. 

It was the name he went by on worlds where last names were common. Leo’s name. He was part of a proud tradition of men becoming Mr. Ogg when they married an Ogg woman. 

Emma looked him in the eyes, long and hard. “Jefferson Ogg,” she said slowly. “That’s… such a weird name, I don’t think you made it up.”

“I didn’t,” he said. 

“Uh-huh,” she said. “And what do you need help with, Jefferson Ogg?”

“I…” Gods, how could he even start? He would just have to show her. “It’s upstairs.”

She gave him another look, not speaking. Then she pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and pressed some buttons. 

“Texting on the job?”

“I left my walkie-talkie in the car.” She put her phone away. “Just letting my roommate know where I am and to call the dispatch office if she doesn’t hear from me in 10 minutes.”

That was almost funny, that she thought he was dangerous. As if the most dangerous person in Storybrooke wasn’t signing Sheriff Swan’s paychecks. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” he said.

****

It was the first time anyone other than him had set foot in the office. He wondered what Emma made of the room. All Jefferson ever cared about was the telescope and the walk-in closet where he stored the newspapers. Neither of those things drew Emma’s focus.

“That’s a lot of top hats,” she said as she stood in front of the lit-up shelf. There were rows of them, all made of an endless supply of black felt. “You part of a show choir or something?”

“No.” He shut the door behind them, locked it. “The hats… are actually what I need your help with.” He pulled out some of the felt, some sewing needles and a pair of scissors. He tossed them all onto the table in front of her. “I need you to make one.”

Now the expression on Emma’s face was what ‘suspicious’ wanted to be when it grew up. “You think I’m a hatter?”

He stood behind her, nudging her into a chair in front of the raw materials. “I think you can do extraordinary things, Emma. I think you can do exactly what I need you to. I think you can save me.”

Her expression morphed from disbelief to exhaustion. “No, not you too. Have you been talking to Henry? What is it with this town and people thinking I can save them?”

“Because you can!” He put his hands on either side of the chair and pushed her to the table. Then he leaned over her to keep her from getting up. “You are a special person, Emma. You made the changes start, you can make everything good again.”

“Bring back the happy endings, is that what you want from me?”

She was angry. She meant the remark to be flippant. But she was so right it brought tears to his eyes. 

“Yes,” Jefferson whispered. “Yes, that’s all I want. The Dark One says it’s your destiny, that you have already brought--”

“Wait, who?”

“The Dark One,” he said. “Rumpelstiltskin, he--”

“Will you listen to yourself?” Emma pushed herself up away from the table and stood up to confront him. “Do you think you’ve had a conversation with Rumpelstiltskin? What, do you think Regina is the Evil Queen too?”

“Yes!” he shouted. He picked the felt up off the table and shook the fabric in her face. “You have all the pieces, Emma! Why can’t you put them together?”

“Because this is the real world!” she shouted back. 

“Every world is real!” 

She made for the door. The lock kept her busy for just enough time that Jefferson was able to catch up with her. Gently, he pulled her away from the door and stood in front of it. Just being taller than her was enough to make him look like a threat.

“You don’t understand,” he tried to keep his voice from breaking. “There are so many worlds out there. I’ve been to most of them. The Dark One gave me a hat that I can use to travel from world to world. I could use it to get out of here, but I don’t have it anymore!”

Emma reached for her phone. He grabbed her wrist and pulled the device out of her hand.

“It needs magic,” he explained, as calmly as he could. “I’ve made a hundred hats, but they’re just hats, no good to anyone. I need magic. You have magic. You brought magic to Storybrooke the day you came here.”

She frowned at the phone in his hand and stepped back. “There was nothing different about the day I came here.”

“You’re right.” Keeping her in his sights, he stepped away from the office door and toward the closet. “It was the day after you arrived, the day after you broke the sign. October 24th, 2011. That was the day the clock on the library started to tick.”

Emma just gaped at him. “How could you remember that?”

“It was the most important day in the history of this town. The first real day to happen in twenty-eight years.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Can I show you?” he asked. “I’ll even give you your phone back, so you can tell Mary Margaret you’re okay. But I just need you to promise that you’ll hear me out.”

She glared and held out her hand. “You are damn lucky you don’t have a gun right now.”

He watched her press the buttons, then put her phone back in her pocket. 

“You bought yourself another ten minutes because I don’t feel like filling out the paperwork necessary to arrest you.”

Jefferson went to the closet. “It’s in here,” he said. “All the evidence I have is in here.”

She put her hands on her hips, squared her shoulders. “Go get it then.” 

Right, Sheriff Swan wasn’t going to be the first one to go through an unknown door in the house of an obvious lunatic. Jefferson opened it, and showed her the newspapers. Twenty-eight stacks and counting. Each stack was made of twelve bundles, reaching to the ceiling. Three hundred and forty one bundles. The whole of the curse, contained in this room.

“I saved them all,” he said. “Twenty-eight years’ worth.”

“So you’ve been saving newspapers since you were, what, five?” 

“Since the day I came to this town,” he answered. “Since the day anyone came to this town.” Kneeling on the ground, he moved the smallest pile and pulled out the smallest bundle. “Do you want to know what day that was, Emma?”

She didn’t answer, but he took the paper out from the bottom of the bundle and held it up in front of her. 

“Go on,” he growled. “Read it.”

“Uh, it says that Mayor Mills announced a new committee to--”

“Read the date!” he snapped. 

Jaw clenched, Emma yanked the paper out of his hands and looked at the top. She didn’t read it out loud, but he saw her eyebrows furrow. 

“That’s… my birthday,” she whispered. “Like, that was the day I was born.”

“October 23rd, 1983,” he said. “That was the day the curse started. The day you were born was the day the Evil Queen cursed us all to live in a world without magic.”

“That’s--”

“There was no time.” He didn’t let her speak. “Nothing changed, nothing happened. We were frozen. Most of them didn’t notice, but I did. I remembered, I…” He couldn’t go on. “I thought I was crazy. I thought nothing I knew was real. I thought I had lost everything. But you… You’re the Savior. You can bring it back.”

Emma shook her head and looked down at the newspaper again. “Even if all this is true, why am I the one who has to--wait a minute!” She pointed at the paper, at a picture of the mayor. “This is a crock of shit! That’s Regina! Regina wasn’t mayor on the day I was born!” She flipped through the other pages. “Yeah, look at this. Sydney looks the same in this picture as he does today. Look at the school news, I’ve seen these kids!”

“I told you, time was frozen.”

“Or you put a fake date on an old paper just to mess with me!” She kept looking at the newspaper, seeing but not understanding. “Yeah, this ad here, this is Tim Lewis. He gave me a discount on my car insurance. His daughter, Paige? She looks exactly like she does in this ad. Pretty sure she’s eleven, not thirty-nine.”

Jefferson ripped the paper out of Emma’s hands. “She is not his daughter!” He snarled. “Will you listen to me? That girl’s name is Grace. She is eleven. She has been eleven for twenty-eight years!”

“I--” Emma put her hands up and let out a slow breath. “I don’t think either one of us is going to convince the other.”

“I don’t care if you believe me, I just need you to make a gods-damned hat!”

To Jefferson’s shock, Emma seemed ready to do what he asked, maybe in the name of de-escalating the situation. She went back to the table, slowly sat down, and picked up the felt. “You need this so you can go back to Fairytale Land?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t care about that world anymore. I need to go back to the Discworld.”

Emma squinted as she tried to thread a needle. “Discworld? I’ve heard of those books. They’re supposed to be funny, right?”

Jefferson didn’t smile. “It’s a real place.”

Looking up, Emma opened her mouth, and then closed it. “Sure.” She began to half-heartedly jam the needle between two pieces of felt. 

He collapsed into a chair by the telescope. Gods, was she really doing this? Jefferson only knew enough about magic to know that he was better off not playing with it. But if the Dark One was right, then Emma Swan wouldn’t be able to stop herself from using magic. She would do it naturally, maybe accidentally. It wouldn’t matter if the hat looked awful. All it had to do was work.

“My wife is from there,” he offered as a way to make conversation. 

Emma didn’t look up from the stitches. “From Discworld? Does that make her a witch or something?”

He shook his head. “Her mother is. I guess she could be too, if she wanted. Most of the time witchcraft is just knowing something other people don’t know.”

“Like how to make a hat?” Emma looked at him through a tube of felt. “It’s been a long time since my last Home Ec class. This is not going to be pretty.”

“It just needs to work,” he muttered. “Just… get it to work.”

Sighing, Emma pulled out her phone again.

“Has she even answered you?” he asked. “Maybe she’s off somewhere screwing David Nolan.”

A glare. “I’m doing you a favor by working on this hat. So maybe you could do me a favor and not say rude things about my friends.”

“I got you here by talking about Kathryn Nolan. Do you actually care about her?”

Emma kept her eyes on her work. “She’s a person. I care about people. She could be lost in the woods, disoriented and hungry. Of course I want to find her.”

“Do you think she’s still alive?”

“I have to hope so.” She cut one of the threads. “We haven’t found a body, or even body parts. If some monster was out there cutting out hearts and putting them in jewelry boxes, at least then there’d be some evidence.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Do you care about Kathryn Nolan? Or do you think she’s just a fairytale character?”

“I care about her because she’s a fairytale character,” Jefferson said. “Her name was Princess Abigail. She was the daughter of King Midas. She gave me a lot of gold just for trying to find a way to reverse the effects of her father’s… gift.”

Emma nodded, clearly humoring him. “I’d heard that King Midas had a daughter. I didn’t know her name was Abigail. Doesn’t sound Greek, but what do I know?” She was sewing the brim on the hat, after that it would be finished. 

Jefferson stood up. His feet moved on a schedule that was bigger than Emma Swan. He looked through the telescope. It was nine-thirty. Bedtime.

“Do you want to see her?” he whispered to Emma.

“Kathryn?”

“My daughter.”

They were putting her to bed, Tim and Mia both. She was almost too big for the gesture, but maybe that was why she wanted it so much. Jefferson felt Emma’s presence beside him, and he stepped away from the telescope. 

“They never remember to give her the stuffed rabbit,” he said. “That’s the only one that keeps her from having nightmares.”

“Oh, that’s Paige,” Emma said. She looked up from the window. “You… have a telescope pointed at the bedroom of an eleven year old girl.”

“She’s my daughter,” Jefferson repeated. “I’ve lost her mother. Grace doesn’t know who I am. I need to keep an eye on her.”

Emma stayed between Jefferson and the telescope. “Is it because Paige is adopted? Are you her birth father or something?”

He didn’t know whether to scream or cry, so he laughed. Emma kept talking.

“It’s no shame if that’s the case. Believe me, I know how mixed-up it can be to have a kid that’s yours but isn’t yours.”

“Shut up,” Jefferson said through gritted teeth. “Grace is mine. Mine and my wife’s.”

“You said you lost your wife…”

“Yes! And I’ll only find her again once I have a hat that works!” He almost grabbed her by the shoulders, but she was too fast. She made it back to the table and kept it as a barrier between them.

“Enough!” Emma said. She picked up the hat and tossed it over to him. “This is the last of my goodwill, understand? I’m going to leave now. You’re gonna let me out of this room and out of this house. I’m gonna call Tim and tell him to buy his daughter some blackout curtains. If I ever catch wind of you snooping around little girls again, I will personally make sure you rot in jail.”

Jefferson looked down at the crumpled felt in his hands. It was only a hat by the most generous definition. But maybe it would be enough.

When he looked up, Emma was gone. From outside, he heard the rumble of a car engine starting up. As she drove away, the sound grew fainter. He still held the hat in his hands. 

It didn’t feel magical. His old hat had a certain… quality. There was an aura about it, not quite tangible. But there was a feeling he got when he looked at his hat. A feeling of… possibility. Like there was so much more to it than what met the eye. There was none of that in the hat Emma had made. 

Maybe magic was different here. Maybe there was a way. Some way. He had to try. He would never know if he didn’t try. 

He closed his eyes and took a breath. “Please.” With all his heart, he prayed to any power that was listening. 

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the hat to the ground, as he had done a thousand different times in a hundred different worlds. The hat spun and he waited for it to keep spinning, waited for it to grow larger and disappear into a whirlpool of purple smoke. He waited for the hole in the whirlpool, the portal that could take him anywhere.

But the hat barely made a full rotation before it stopped spinning. It sat on the ground, unmoving, unmagical.

Jefferson stared at it, until his vision blurred with tears. Then he began to laugh. 

Of course it didn’t work! Why would anything work in this world? Of course there was no escape! Of course he was going to die in this world! Or worse--he would live forever in a world without time and he’d never see Leona again.

He sobbed. His legs gave out and sent him careening to the floor. He lay face down on the patterned carpet, stared at Emma Swan’s misshapen hat, and wept like a child. 

****

Later--an hour? A year? Did it make a difference?--when couldn’t cry anymore, Jefferson pulled himself off the floor. He made it all the way to the chair before he collapsed again and hung his head in his hands. 

It hadn’t worked. The Savior hadn’t worked. The side of goodness hadn’t worked. Well, Jefferson was never one to get too hung up about paltry matters like good and evil. 

Slowly wheeling the office chair over to the desk, Jefferson fumbled for the silver telephone. He pushed in numbers he knew by heart, numbers he had wanted to call a dozen times in the past month, but never had. Not until now.

He tried to breathe, as the phone rang. But then he stopped when he heard it pick up. A woman’s voice. Belle’s voice.

“Mr. Gold’s residence. Who is calling?”

Jefferson didn’t speak. He didn’t breathe. Mrs. Gold knew that he had slept with her husband. He couldn’t ask her to put him on the phone. He couldn’t even let her know who he was.

He hung up.

With another deep breath, he pulled a book with yellow pages out from a shelf above the desk. He flipped through the thin paper, until he found the name and number he was looking for.

He dialed slowly, taking a breath between each number. He couldn’t sound like he was upset. He couldn’t show any weakness in front of her. 

This was a bad idea. This was the worst idea he could have ever come up with. The last time he’d worked with this woman he had watched her murder a helpless servant once she was no longer useful. How could he know that she wouldn’t do the same to him?

Maybe by the time he wasn’t useful, he would already be in the Discworld.  

He needed magic. He needed to get out. He needed power. So he called the most powerful person in town.  

Regina picked up on the third ring. “Who exactly do you think you are to be calling my home at this time of night?”

“Your Majesty,” he said calmly. “This is Jefferson the realm-jumper. I’d like to offer my services.”