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talesofstyles · 4 years ago

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Reconcile II

Ok so I know that I wrote the first part with reader insert, but after many, many attempts to keep it that way, it just didn’t work with this one. So I’d like for you to meet Emma. This is my first time writing with OC and wow game changer. I love her and I hope you do too!

Also, I honestly can’t thank my beta queens enough @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h 🥺💛 thanks for allll the comments and suggestions and nice words!!! ily both xx

Read part I here

Harry

“So… are we okay now?”

We’re sitting here on the sofa, finally having that very much needed father-daughter date. Granted, a movie night in was not what I had in mind. I wasn’t too thrilled when she said she wanted to just go back home after we dropped George at his classmate’s house for a birthday sleepover. I thought she would hole up in her room instead and ignore me. But she didn’t. I got us pizza for tea, and we’ve got Shrek 2 on the telly. Her animosity towards me disappeared just like that after she asked for a puppy the other day. Of course, I’m glad to have my happy-go-lucky daughter back, but deep down I know that we need to have a proper chat. The change in her behaviour is so abrupt that I know there’s a chance that my daughter is still bitter with me deep down. And that won’t do. I can take a lot of things, but my daughter’s resentment is not one of them.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” she nods as she takes a bite of her pizza. “You’re still getting me a puppy right?”

“I still need to talk to your mum about it, poppet,” I tell her. “Puppies need a lot of attention. It’s going to be hard work and that puppy is going to be a permanent member of our family. We’ve really got to think about it before we decide.”

I expect a little excitement knowing that her mum and I are really considering getting a puppy. But what I get is quite the opposite. My little girl’s gaze drops, her face slackening. Her voice cracks a little when she mumbles, “except… we’re not a family.”

I wince, realising how serious the effect our split has on my daughter. Despite Emma and I putting on a friendly, united front for our children, Minnie is still sad that her parents are not together.

“Of course we’re still a family,” I assure her, pulling her to me for a comforting side hug. “I’m still your dad, mummy is still your mum, and you and George are still the lights of our lives.”

“But you and mummy aren’t together anymore,” she points out bitterly. “And you live so far away from us now. I miss having you at home.”

“I know, my love,” I murmur gently, and turn sideways so she can see my face. “It’s killing me too. But you never know what the future holds, right?”

“I guess,” she says glumly.

I wish I can tell her that I’m trying to win her mum back so we can be together again, but I know I can’t do that. This is far too early. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case I’m not successful in convincing my wife to give me another shot. That’ll only break her heart all over again.

Thinking back, I realised that this is the first time we have a proper chat about our split. I fled to LA the next morning after my wife asked me to leave our marital home back in London, leaving her to sit down with our children to tell them that I was not going to live there anymore. I was shocked and angry because I had no idea what I’d done. I thought we were fine. There were no fights leading up to that. I still remember exactly what I told her. ‘You’re the one who wanted to end it, you tell them.’ And then I left.

Just like that. Without a fight.

I swear to God, it’s something that I would never be able to forgive myself.

“How’s your mum?”

“She’s sad,” Minnie sighs. “She cries a lot. She thinks we can’t hear her in the shower, but we can.”

Knowing I caused that physically hurts. I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone and I think about all those private tears I shed through it. The ones you hope are hidden and silent.

“Can I ask you something, daddy?”

“Anything, poppet.”

“Do you still get sad too?”

I’m not sure how much to divulge here. Does my daughter need to hear that I stopped eating? That I once cried in the loo at Cafe Habana, and once had to be fished out of a bath by Jeff after I turned into a human prune? I was sad. I still wear that hat.

“I do. It’s the end of something, that’s always sad.”

“I think mum is dating someone,” she says and my eyes widen. “She told us Luke is her friend, but I think he’s her boyfriend. They’re on a date now, aren’t they?”

I can try and deny it, but I know my daughter is smart and won’t buy anything I tell her.

“What do you know about boyfriends?” I tease, my attempt to lighten up the mood.

“I’ve just turned nine, I’m not stupid,” Minnie rolls her eyes. “‘Sides I’m thinking about getting one of those boyfriend thingies.”

I sit there slack-jawed, and my daughter roars with laughter.

“Minnie Alexandra, you’re going to drive me to an early grave, you know that?”

“Hey, what are you middle naming me for? I was joking!” She says, still laughing as she picks a piece of pepperoni off her pizza.

“How do you feel about your mum dating again?” I ask her.

She pauses. “I don’t know yet. As long as he’s nice and doesn’t put me under the stairs…”

“I’m sure he won’t. In the attic maybe,” I joke.

She laughs again. I’m thinking about keeping that bloke in the attic so my wife won’t date him anymore. Or even better, six feet under my patio. That’ll do.

“It’s gonna be okay, right, dad?”

Honestly, I’m not sure. But I don’t have the heart to tell her that.

“Yeah, Min. It’s gonna be okay.”

***

I see the headlight shining into the front windows as I walk down the stairs from tucking my daughter into her bed. That must be Emma and her date. I pull back the curtain a little to peek outside, and I’m right as I see that bollockface’s car in front of the house.

You know that saying; curiosity killed the cat? Well, in my case, curiosity fucked me with a chainsaw.

I’m a bloody idiot. I should have just closed the curtain back as soon as I recognised the car. I mean… it’s the end of a date. What did I expect to see? A high five? I knew I was so sure when they left that he would not be getting anything more than a friendly kiss, but that date must have gone really well, because right now, my eyes may as well fall out of their sockets as I see that bastard’s tongue down my wife’s throat.

I’m frozen. I’m gripping the curtain so tight that my knuckles are turning white. I stand there—stunned. Watching. I’m not even sure for how long. It does feel like forever. Like an eternity.

In hell.

And then Emma pulls back, and everything seems like a blur. I have to remind myself that my daughter is sleeping upstairs so I won’t go apeshit and knock that wanker square on his arse.

I’m still glued to the floor by the door. I’m too shocked to move. I hear the sound of keys rattling before the door swings open, and she looks surprised when she sees me.

And all hell breaks loose.

“What the fuck, Emma?!” She jolts at hearing me shout. I rarely did it. In fact, I’m not even sure if I’d ever yell at my wife before throughout our marriage. “You told me last night you’d never even kissed him. You told me you weren’t ready.”

“I- I don’t know. He caught me off guard. That was-”

“I told you I wanted to make this work,” I remind her, trying to lower my voice so I won’t wake my daughter up. She doesn’t need to see this. “Us. Our marriage. I told you I wanted to fight for you. But I can’t do that with someone shoving their tongue down my wife’s throat, can I?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see her tear up and I immediately feel regret. That was harsh. But before I can apologise, I can see her lip curls up and I know she’s about to get nasty. It’s a rarity with her when we’ve fought in the past, but I feel it coming.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She sneers. “You think that if you put a toy down, it’ll still be sitting there when you want to play with it again.”

“That’s-”

“You have no right to be upset at me. We’ve split up for nearly a year now. What I do and what I don’t do on my dates is none of your business.”

“I want us to give our marriage another shot,” I say in exasperation. “I want to try to win you back, but fuck’s sake you’re not even giving me the time of day.”

“Oh, look how the tables turned,” she taunts. “Sucks, innit? Being the one struggling to find the time when it seems like the other doesn’t give a crap?”

“Cheap shot, Ems,” I retort.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, H?”

Emma averts her eyes, her lower lip quivering. I can’t tell if she regrets her harsh words or not, but she doesn’t look back my way, and she seems to have said her piece.

I knew sooner or later this was bound to happen. We never had our big fight, not even that night when she decided that enough was enough.

“I cannot possibly go through that again. It physically hurts,” she says softly. “I know I was the one who ended it, but when you just left like that the next morning without so much of a fight as if ten years means nothing to you… that really did hurt. You left me alone to talk to the kids about what happened. And sure, you did call every day. But it took you nearly nine months to finally come and see your children?”

“I needed some time. Some space,” I tell her. “Do you think it’s easy for me being there? Away from my wife and kids?”

“You chose to be there.”

“You know I couldn’t stay in London,” I murmur. “It’s too hard. At least in LA sometimes I can just pretend that everything’s okay. That we’re okay. That my wife and kids will be there waiting for me when I get home. I can’t do that in London.”

“That’s a shit excuse and you know it,” she mutters.

“I still love you, Em,” I say with a sigh. I know trying to defend myself further for what I did will get me nowhere. “We can fix this. We can be a family again.”

“Harry, it’s too late.”

“Is it him?” I can’t help but go there, because that’s a possibility. “Do you love him already?”

“Luke is a fresh start for me, H. I may not love him now but at least it doesn’t hurt looking at him. It took me months to be able to get back up again, to get to where I am right now. To finally find a little bit of peace.”

Emma’s head hangs low, and she rubs at her temple with her fingers. I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms. But by how stiff her spine is, I can tell she wouldn’t come willingly.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” I whisper, resigned. Tears well up in our eyes. There’s nothing I can say that will change her mind because we’re not seeing eye to eye. She’s still focused on the past, not that I blame her because I did hurt her badly, but I know that there is no way we can go anywhere if she can’t see past the harms I’ve caused in the past. “I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” she says, her expression softens. Her thumb runs at a part of her finger where a ring used to be. “Now, I just want us to try and make this separation work. Focus on the kids. Let’s do the right thing by them.”

I nod.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“When did it all start?” I ask, my voice cracks a little. “When did you start feeling like you’re invisible to me?”

“I’m not sure I can point down to one exact moment,” she takes a shaky breath and pauses. “The change was gradual that by the time I realised it, I didn’t even recognise us anymore. I spent days and nights wondering what happened to us. That wasn’t us.”

I wipe that one tear running halfway down her cheek, and as soon as my thumb touches her skin, I lose it. I can’t help it by this point. Tears flow as much as I try to hold them back. She’s crying too. This is painful.

“And it’d be too easy to say that I felt invisible,” she continues. “Because the truth is, I felt painfully visible. You ignored me on purpose. I wasn’t even sure what I was to you anymore, because the only chance for me to get your attention was by getting you in bed. And that was wrong. It hurts, because it felt like you only needed me to warm your bed.”

I want to deny that statement. I want to yell it’s not true. That I never intended to take her for granted. That she still makes my heart skip a beat like a bloody teenager seeing his first crush.

But I don’t.

Because she’s right. I’m not sure what happened either, but we’d changed. Maybe it’s our jobs, maybe it’s the endless responsibilities. Domesticity, children, they wore us down. Kisses became perfunctory. Hugs became less frequent. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I took my wife for a date night other than for social obligations.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologising to her if I have to, she deserves it. “I hurt you badly. I really am sorry, Emma.”

“It wasn’t all you though,” she mumbles. “I never called you out on it.”

“You didn’t,” I reply. “I never worked out why?”

“I swept it under the carpet because it was embarrassing. It felt silly having to ask for your attention. And I don’t know… pride, maybe? And the kids. I didn’t want them to know something was wrong. So I played along and carried on like nothing was happening.”

“When really…”

“It was like a punch to the guts each time. You were an excellent father. You still are, the kids adore you. This may sound insane and it’s embarrassing and painful for me to admit this, but there were times when I saw you with the kids and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. When you couldn’t even be bothered to look at me… it felt like you took a dump over all my love for you.”

“Emma…”

“I wish I could get past that. I wish I could just forget what happened and trust you again.”

I bring her in for a hug and say nothing. She needs to get this all out. This is part of the process, and I’m here to listen.

But where do we go from there?

Reconciling a broken marriage is tricky. I am not a violent person but I have never wanted to strangle people as much as I want to strangle those who wrote articles with countless advice regarding this subject, making it seem like it’s easy. Talk it out, get your point across, and you’re out of the dog house. Well, you know what, bollockface? It turns out that listening is not enough. Sod you and your dumb articles.

All I know is that I can’t rush this. She’s not ready, and that’s okay. Right now, we both have things to work on. She needs to learn to let go of her resentment, and I have to learn not to take anything and anyone for granted ever again. This is killing me, but there is no one to blame but myself. I take solace in knowing the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Maybe one day we’ll be back together. Maybe we won’t.

“Thank you for telling me all that,” I mumble against her hair.

“Thank you for listening,” she looks up and gives me a sad smile.

***

Emma comes from a big family.

There’s Jamie, her eldest brother and the only guy. I think the fact that he grew up surrounded by sisters was what made us the closest in the first place. He hates wine, even though he makes a career out of managing his own vineyard. I know, the irony. The next is Suze, sister number one who lives in Sheffield with her husband and three girls. Suze and her husband are both orthopaedic surgeons. Then my wife, the middle child. Then Meg, sister number two who just had a baby. It’s another girl so my George is still the only grandson in the family. And then Lucy, the youngest of the clan who’s still in university.

They all live nearby, and I knew that all my in-laws hated me a tiny bit for taking their daughter and sister away. They were a hard outfit to infiltrate. You don’t enter into a relationship with one of them, you get a whole gaggle of them. It was hard to get in, but once you’re in, you’re in for life.

After we’d split, I called my parents-in-law the next morning just before my flight to LA. I wasn’t sure whether or not Emma had told them about what happened, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, they’d become my parents too for a decade. So I explained and apologised. Of course, I didn’t tell them the details because I knew they were between Emma and me, and they respected us enough not to ask. They were upset, but they also understood that these things happen in life. All they wanted was just for their grandbabies to come out of this unscathed.

Now here I am, walking behind Emma and our children as we step over the threshold into her parents’ home for their monthly roast. Her parents invited me and I accepted. I don’t want to turn down any extra time I have with my kids as I’ve decided to leave today and head back to London. I was prepared to stay longer, take some time off work and fight for my marriage, but since it all has gone to pot, I figured I should leave. The world doesn’t stop even when you’re struggling with marital woes. I’ve got work to do, and I also know that it is best to give Emma space.

I hear voices as we walk inside.

“If littl’uns are going in highchairs then what’s that extra space for?” I hear Meg’s husband say.

Meg tells him. “Count again, addition was never your strong point.”

“Oh.”

The house is suddenly quiet when they see me. This is my first time seeing the whole family again after we split, and even though my parents-in-law and I are on good terms, and Jamie too, I know the sisters would be a different story. All four of them are beyond close and they’re now looking at me as if they should’ve chucked me in the oven instead of the chicken.

You don’t do that to our sister. You hurt one, you hurt all of us.

“Uncle Harry!” Freya shouts in excitement. She is one of Suze’s daughters. She and her twin sister Tessa are only a few months older than my George.

Suze, who is sitting on the sofa, looks a bit sullen, not knowing what the right call is to make. Meg and her husband freeze.

“Alright there, mate?” Jamie greets me, trying to ease the tension. Suze glares at him.

“Are you here to do magic then, Uncle Harry?” Tessa asks.

I bend down to her level. “Not sure I know any magic, Tessie.”

“Yeah you do!” Freya pipes up. “Because when we were driving here, daddy said you did a disappearing act on Aunty Ems. Show us what you did!”

“FREYA!” Her dad barks.

Meg can barely contain her giggles.

“But we like magic. You’re rubbish at magic,” she says to her dad. He widens his eyes.

The sisters are now all smiling smugly, knowing a couple of six-year-olds just shamed me on their behalf. Extra roast potatoes for those two.

Lucy, the littlest sister, suddenly enters. That’s definitely not a happy face. “Oh, it’s you. Is that why everyone went so quiet? What are you doing here?”

“Luce,” Emma mutters.

“Because I invited him,” says a voice emerging from the kitchen. My father-in-law. “Harry, glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” I reply. “Thanks for the invitation.”

Lucy stares daggers at her dad, knowing she can’t unleash her trademark rapier wit as she’s surrounded by her little nieces and nephews. That one may be the youngest but she’s the scariest out of all the sisters, my wife included.

“Look, if it’s weird, I can just leave?” I offer.

“Nonsense, you must stay for supper,” Emma’s mum replies.

“Yeah, Harry, stay,” says Emma’s dad, staring at his daughters. “I want you lot to be nice. Otherwise, I’m putting you on the kids table. You hear me?”

The three of them nod in unison.

“You two look well,” I say, my attempt to make small talk.

“You know, dad’s been singing this morning,” Emma’s mum chirps, tilting her head towards her husband. “He joined a male choir. They think they’re Westlife.”

We all can’t help but laugh. This is classic mum. The tension seems to ease away.

Let’s just hope it stays that way.

***

There’s a strange feeling of déjà vu as I take a seat on the steps in front of the cottage.

I’m all packed up and ready to go. My weekender bag is in the boot of my car. Nothing left to do but say goodbye to my wife and kids, but I don’t go straight inside.

Not yet. I need a moment.

These steps witnessed a lot of our marriage even though we’d never stayed here for longer than a couple of weeks at a time. We loved to sit out here in the summer. I remember when I first brought my stuff here shortly after we got married, we sat out here with beers, sleeves rolled up, boxes stacked into Jenga-style columns.

I also remember sitting here last year on Christmas morning. Emma and I were both in our pyjamas and slippers, sipping coffees out of our matching Christmas mugs. We watched the kids ride their new scooters up and down the street. Everything was perfect. I had no idea that my marriage would end in just two months after that.

“Harry?”

I look over my shoulder and I urge her to sit beside me. She comes over and does just that. There is silence. We don’t say a word to each other. A quiet hum of traffic in the distance, puffs of breath cloud the air making me think we should both be wearing coats. Christmas is nearly here again. My heart aches at the thought of this being our first Christmas since everything fell apart.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“I should be the one apologising, Em.”

“I know you wanted to work things out,” I hear the sadness in her voice. “I really loved you, you know that, right?”

“I do,” I nod. “Our marriage, all those years… it wasn’t all bad, though, right?”

“Of course,” she quickly replies. “We had our moments. We have Minnie and George.”

We pause, letting that sink in. In all this mess, those two were and remain everything, some symbol of our marriage not being a complete disaster.

“There were also times when you were a good husband,” she adds.

“Why do I feel like you’re going to pat me on the head?”

Emma laughs under her breath.

“Your new bloke seemed a nice sort,” I tell her, because it’s true. I may hate the guy with a burning passion, but that’s only because he’s dating my wife.

“He is.”

“That got legs?” I ask her.

“Possibly.”

“I want you to be happy, Ems,” I tell her. “With or without me.”

“Harry…”

“But I also want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you. No rush, no timeline. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. Because for me, it’s either you or no one else.”

The front door opens and two little faces pop out from behind it.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” Shouts Minnie.

“Well then come here and give me cuddles to warm me up,” I tell her.

Emma and I take a kid each. She takes George and lets him entangle his legs in hers, cradling himself into the hook of his mummy’s arm. Minnie uses me like a climbing frame. I bop her on the nose as I’ve done since she was a baby, and I like that it never stops being hilarious to her. The sky starts to dim, trees casting shadows onto the pavement. A house down the road has some festive lights that switch on and flicker on and off in strange syncopated patterns.

“This is nice,” Minnie mumbles. “I miss the awesome foursome.”

“The awesome foursome, huh?” I ask.

“That’s what you used to call us,” I hear the sadness in her voice and my heart aches. I know she feels this all a lot more than her little brother. “I still remember.”

“Do you really have to go again, daddy?” George looks at me with sad puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah, do you?” Minnie asks. “I love having you here.”

“I do, my loves,” I reply sadly. “Be good for mummy, alright? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“I don’t like seeing you go,” George mumbles.

The emotion is a little unbearable and I see a tear trail down my wife’s cheek. George looks petrified seeing his mum cry.

“Don’t be sad, mummy.”

“I’m not sad,” she shakes her head, quickly wiping the tear off her cheek. “I’m just sorry daddy and I couldn’t make it work.”

“Did we do something wrong?” George asks, looking at his mum and then me.

“Oh, mate,” I reach out to cup his face, Emma pulls him into a hug. “Of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong. You two are perfect, you hear me?”

“Do you still love each other?” Minnie asks.

Emma looks at me in the eye as she answers our daughter. “I’ll always love your dad, because he gave me both of you.”

“And I’ll always love your mum,” I say, my eyes pinned on my wife. “No matter what.”

Emma

“So… tell me, he a good lay? He looks the sort to have some girth.”

I probably should have warned you beforehand about this sister of mine.

Lucy is my entertainer sister who has done every job going alongside studying. She went to dance school, spent six months on a cruise ship, has been an extra and once did a two-month stint in Les Misérables. On weekends she dresses up as Disney characters and does kids’ parties which means she owns a lot of wigs and always has glitter in her bra. She’s the fun one. I keep her close because as much as I love my other siblings, this one has been a good entertainment through my separation. Mum suggested for her to live with me for a couple of weeks when I first moved back to the Peak, and I’m so glad she did. It was around the time I lost a stone and would spend most of the time napping, crying and staring at the wall, surviving on cups of tea and Rich Tea fingers. She couldn’t cook or clean and she used all my shampoo but she brought some light into the house when grey clouds threatened to consume it. She was also a great distraction because I could live vicariously through her tales of going to gigs and clubs and hear how she’s not slept and got her boobs out for reasons of fun and frivolity.

However, when you talk to her, she always goes there. She’s brash and has no conversational limit. She thinks her purpose is to not only feed me but also revive a pretty dead sex life too. Actually, it’s not just her. After my husband and I split, my sisters think it’s their job to pique my interest in men again. Luke happened after a boozy Chinese takeaway about two months ago when I joked that a spring roll was the most phallic thing I’d had in my mouth for over half a year. I remember a dumpling rolled out of Meg’s mouth in shock, so Suze decided to play the matchmaker and introduced me to Luke who worked at the same hospital with her.

Tonight, we’re having another takeaway night since my parents have all the grandchildren for the weekend. Bless them for entertaining that crew of children we seem to have acquired over the past nine years. We have seven between Suze, myself and Meg, and I just hope that my parents are well stocked with wine. They will need it.

We all sit around my dining room table with the remnants of a KFC bargain bucket, a selection of Thai food, a giant bag of chips and some battered sausages. I’d admit that we were already a little drunk to buy food sanely. Luke is also here, I thought it’d be nice to give my sisters the chance to get to know him. And it doesn’t take Lucy more than thirty seconds after Luke gets up to take a phone call before asking such questions.

“I don’t know? I haven’t slept with him yet.”

Lucy looks at me in confusion. “But you’ve been on dates and stuff?”

“We did have a cheeky snog last week but we’re taking it slow.”

“What are you waiting for? Just go shag him. Erase the memory of that wanker?”

“Hey, he’s your niece and nephew’s father,” I chastise her for calling Harry names. “Don’t call him that.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep with Luke?” Meg, my other sister asks me. “Lucy is right though. He’s really tall, I bet he’s VWE.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Very well-endowed.”

I chuckle. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

Meg giggles and places her head on my shoulder.

“Last time I had sex was on Valentine’s Day, girls. Do your maths. The next day, my marriage collapsed.”

Both of them huddle into me like penguins.

“Which is why you just need to get over yourself,” Lucy remarks. “You need to remember what sex is like. It’ll be fun and make you feel good. If you don’t want to do it with Luke, you can have some taster session? I’ve got a uni mate who’d shag you.”

“Lovely. No.”

Lucy huffs. “You’re so boring.”

“Honestly, Em, Luke is fit. Seems like a nice fella, and he genuinely likes you. I’d have a go on him if I weren’t married. You should just do it,” says Meg.

“Yeah, you could shag him tonight,” Lucy adds. “Meg and I can piss off out and then…”

Then she does a strange rave-style dance as she thinks of her plan coming together. Luke returns from his phone call and Lucy jiggles in her seat. Don’t you bloody dare.

“Luke, we need more wine,” says Lucy. “There is not enough and we thought you could walk down to the shop and get some?”

Meg and I look at each other for a second, wondering what our sister is up to.

“Sure, yeah, I could get wine,” Luke replies. “Any other requests?”

If she tells him to get condoms in then I will skewer her with a chopstick.

“Anything you might fancy or need?”

She’s walking an incredibly thin, thin line.

Luke gets up to retrieve his coat and grazes my hand as he does. This move doesn’t go unnoticed by Meg and she gives me a sly wink. I hand him my keys and he heads for the front door. Meg stares Lucy out.

“Seriously?” She says.

“We need to prepare you if you’re going to sleep with him.”

“Like mentally?” I ask.

“Like have you had a tidy? This will be your first time. You’ll need to at least tidy up the flaps and do a bit of topiary.”

“LUCY!” I gasp and laugh at the same time, holding my hand to my face. Who is this woman? How can you raise five children in the same house and come up with such a random entity?

She stands up and heads for my kitchen drawers, rifling around until she pulls out a pair of scissors.

“Show me your bush,” she orders.

“Lucy! I prepare food with those scissors.”

“And we’ll wash them?”

Meg is in hysterics as she sees this scene unfolding in front of us.

“I’m not getting my bush out in my kitchen.”

“You’re so dull,” Lucy complains. “I’m trying to help here. What are your pits like? Shame there’s no time to tackle your upper lip.”

I put my hand over it instinctively. “I’ve got a moustache?”

“Well, you’re not Tom Selleck but it could do with a bleach.”

“You’re being cruel now, Luce,” Meg giggles. “But I think we do need the comedy of seeing Lucy trimming your bush in the kitchen.”

I stand up reluctantly and unbutton my jeans.

“Ha!” Exclaims Lucy. “You’re wearing nice knickers, you knew this was going to happen. Just peel them back a little and let me have a look.”

“Be quick for fuck’s sake. This is something that no one needs to see.”

“Do you want a shape?”

“What?”

“Yeah, like a heart? It’d be cute.”

“No!”

Meg roars with laughter.

“I’ll just trim the length then,” says Lucy. “Meg, put your hand out.”

“Do I have to?”

“Don’t you love your sister enough to at least hold her pubes?”

I’m not even sure what’s happening here. One sister is very close to my private regions with a sharp object and I hear the creak of metal as she shears away. The other collects the trimmings in a napkin in her palm. This feels like an opportune moment to ring Suze, our other sister, and start a FaceTime chat. That time we all took one for the team so Emma could reclaim her sex life.

“Thanks, Luce.”

“You don’t say this enough I feel.”

“We really don’t,” says Meg.

“Want me to look at yours, Meg?”

“I’m good.”

“What if he’s into weird stuff?” I ask.

“Like?”

“I don’t know… maybe like choking? Stuff like that.”

“Well, no one breaks out all the moves on their first time,” says Meg but Lucy gives us a look like she begs to differ.

“And I’m not on anything. I stopped the pills months ago. What if I get pregnant?”

“That’s what condoms are for?”

They both give me a look that says I am not fourteen and that I should have an inkling about how reproduction works and the preventative measures that I can put in place to stop myself from getting pregnant.

“How do I initiate it?”

“Maybe you could dance for him?” says Luce mockingly. “You’ve both had a drink, let it just happen. Planned sex is the worst kind of sex.”

“I planned nothing. You’re the one who’s got the kitchen scissors.”

“I’m done, anyway. Not my finest work but then at least he’ll be able to find it?”

Meg laughs again as she goes to the bin with her napkin of pubes. I do my jeans up and sit at the table, downing what’s left in my glass. What if he can’t get it up? Or worse, what if he doesn’t like my boobs? I have modest boobs. They wouldn’t win any competitions. What if he wants better boobs?

“You’re overthinking,” says Meg.

“I haven’t got any condoms.”

Lucy reaches inside her handbag, pulls out two packets of johnnies and hands them to me. How far ahead has she planned this?

“Any other excuse?” Lucy asks.

“Look, tonight, just get naked with the fella, have some bloody fun. Enjoy yourself.”

I hear the key go in the latch of the front door. That was quick. Crap. Luke enters the kitchen with two bottles of red that I immediately feel guilty about as I’ve got a rack of it in the utility room. He also carries a few packs of crisps and takes the kitchen scissors that were on my table.

“No!” I stop him. “Those need to be washed.”

He looks at me in confusion and I love that he puts them in the sink without any further questions asked. He rips opens the packet of crisps with his hands instead.

“Crisps?”

Lucy grabs a handful of crisps before she grabs her phone, pretending to read some texts. “Bollocks! Meg, we forgot about the party.”

Meg quickly plays along. “Oh yeah, crap. It’s that birthday party, innit?”

I feel awful. I’m sending the sisters back out into the cold so Luke and I can have the house to ourselves. They both keep winking at me which is more down to the fact that they’ve had at least a bottle of wine each for themselves tonight. Luke stands at the kitchen door while I wave everyone off. This feels weird.

“Have fun, kids!” Chants Lucy as she shepherds Meg away from the house. I shut the door.

And then there were two. I turn around and Luke is no longer at the doorway. I tiptoe into the kitchen to find him stacking plates.

“Shall we tidy up now?” He asks.

“It can wait.”

My phone on the table lights up with an incoming text. It’s Lucy. Don’t forget to adjust your tits. Make sure they’re facing forwards. Show a bit of bra.

Does this mean my boobs are not always facing forward? Where are they looking? This isn’t helping at all. I ignore it.

“Alright,” Luke says with a smile that makes me feel relaxed but also on the faint side of nauseated. It’s probably first time nerves. Is it weird that I’m thinking about the cleanliness of my bedroom? Did I pick up yesterday’s bra from the corner of my room? Do I remember how to go down on a man? What if he doesn’t fancy me?

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder whether my marriage ended with Harry because I was terrible in bed. Maybe I wasn’t attractive enough. I’ve had kids, parts of me are stretched and doughy. Maybe I didn’t provide what he needed.

In the last year of our marriage, I think it’s safe to say that I was mainly the one to initiate things between us and my success rate wasn’t 100%. There’s this nagging thought in my head that maybe even on those nights I succeeded, those were just pity shags.

You know what, sod it.

I grab him by the collar and kiss him. He stumbles a little but then lets his body fold into mine. I can do this. Crap. He’s lifting me up. He sits me on the counter and I’d like to say the moment overtakes but there’s red wine inches from my arse so I move the glass with my hand whilst still kissing him. We’re kissing. This is weird. It’s different. It’s not my husband’s lips. Why am I thinking about my husband’s lips?

I shake my head, banishing that image. Harry doesn’t belong in this room with me right now.

I feel his hands in the small of my back and then he lifts my jumper over my head. I’m in my bra. Don’t overthink it. Oh, the bra is off. My nipples are out in the kitchen. I run my fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down my neck. Is it weird that right now, at this very moment, all I can think about is that his blond, floppy hair looks like a golden retriever?

I gasp and push him away involuntarily when his mouth wraps on my nipple. This is wrong. This feels wrong. I thought it was just first time jitters but now I think this is deeper than that.

“Are you alright?” He asks, looking concerned.

I grab my jumper and quickly put it back on. “I… I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t. I have to go.”

“Emma, I’m sorry,” his face reads panic. “Did I read the signals wrong? I thought you wanted this. I feel terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologise,” I say hastily. “You didn’t. I did want this. Or so I thought. It’s just… I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll be ready any time soon. Or ever.”

“What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?”

I have to be straight with him. I take a deep breath. “I want to give you the opportunity to walk away. You’re a good guy, Luke. I just don’t think it’s fair for me to string you along if we can never progress.”

“Is it your ex-husband?”

He’s still my husband. But I don’t say this out loud.

“He told me that he wanted to give our marriage another shot about two weeks ago when he was here,” I tell him. “I did say no right away. I didn’t think it was a good idea. But…”

“Is it really?” He asks. “You two have a lot of history. Two kids. Why wouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“I’m worried.”

“And what are you worried about?”

“My heart?” I say quietly. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

Luke smiles at me through sympathetic eyes. “Listen to me, Emma. I’m not a cardiologist, but I know that the hearts are the strongest organs in the human body. They can go through anything.”

What happens next feels like a blur. All I know is that by midnight, I’m already halfway down the M1, on my way to London.

Harry

It was a knock on the door that woke me up.

When I first open my eyes, I’m disoriented. I don’t know what time it is, or how long I’ve been asleep. Then I realise I’m on the sofa, and it’s still dark outside. It’s also raining. I walk towards the door and open it, just in time to catch a figure going down the steps, which doesn’t take me more than a second to recognise. I am in complete shock. Is this real? Is that really my wife, standing in front of my door in the middle of the night? Or are my eyes deceiving me?

“Emma?”

She stops on the pavement and slowly turns to face me. She’s spooked through—her jeans moulded to the curves of her legs, the sleeves of her jumper dripping, her hair flat, lips slightly tinged with blue.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she says. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

I open the door wider, and my voice is drowsy and deep when I say, “Come on, let’s talk inside.”

She takes a step back instead.

“I just… I wasn’t thinking. I’m here. I don’t know why,” she sounds genuinely bewildered—even a little panicked.

“Are the kids in the car?” I ask her and she shakes her head. The wind blows, spraying ice-cold drops across my bare skin where my shirt hangs open. “You’re shivering, honey, come inside.”

She stares at me, so many emotions swirling in her expression. She’s like a skittish kitten who can’t decide if she should let the stranger pat her head or haul up the nearest tree. It breaks my heart.

“I don’t think I can.”

So I go to her.

The rain is cold and hard, soaking my shirt. Her eyes dart from the pavement, to my chest, up to my eyes and back again, like she’s ready to bolt—but her feet stay glued.

I lean in so she can hear me through the rain. “Do you remember the first time we went to Paris together? When we were young and crazy enough to only rent one electric scooter for both of us, and we rode around the city at night?”

The corners of her mouth tug up a little. “I remember.”

“But then I was going way too fast and we hit a rock, and both of us went flying. I didn’t want to ride anymore the next day, because I was afraid you’d get hurt. Do you remember what you told me?”

“I said…” she begins, her eyes meet mine. “I said we had to keep riding. Because it’s the only thing that made falling worth it.”

I nod tenderly and hold out my hand. “I’m not going to let us fall this time, Emma.”

Her eyes are back on the pavement. “I’m not sure-”

I know she still doesn’t trust me. I know that sadness on her face and how it penetrates so deeply. I know she’s probably better off without me, the bastard who crushed her heart and soul and took her for granted for years.

We shy away from the things that hurt us. But that’s what scars are for. They protect the wounds. They cover them with thick, numb tissue so we’ll never have to feel that same pain again. The scars that my wife has inside? They’re tough.

I beg when she continues to stare at my hand, “Please, just come inside.”

Slowly, tentatively, her hand slides into mine.

And we go in out of the rain.

I take her upstairs to the bedroom that used to be ours. Her teeth chatter as she sits on the edge of the bed. I throw a blanket over her shoulders, rubbing her arms, sliding down to cup her hands.

“Shit, you’re freezing. How long were you out there?”

“A while. I was walking… thinking.”

“Just some friendly advice. Next time you go a-wandering, stop and buy an umbrella.”

Emma shivers as she laughs. I pull the blanket closer around her and rub her back.

“So… you gonna tell me what’s this midnight adventure about?”

Her voice comes out soft and wavering in the dark room. “I was with Luke.”

“Did he do something to you? I’ve watched enough crime documentaries to pull a perfect murder.”

She shakes her head and chuckles. “We were having a takeaway night. Meg and Lucy were there too, but then they left and there were just the two of us and-”

“Please spare me the details,” I beg.

“Nothing happened. I just… I couldn’t get through it. Your face kept popping out in my head and I knew that if I went all the way through, we’d lose our chance. And I didn’t want us to lose our chance. I know this is completely the opposite of what I said to you two weeks ago but it’s true. I wasn’t ready then and maybe I’m still not ready now, but I don’t know about the future and you said you’d wait for me and…”

Her words trail off and my chest clenches with that sublime mix of excitement and trepidation. Of wanting something so much it’s like every cell in your body is stretching, reaching for it, yet there’s a grey shadow of worry that you might never get to touch it.

“Oh, Ems…”

I cup my hands around hers and blow into them. Another shiver vibrates through her.

For a moment we sit there in silence. Memories of us in this bed come flooding back. Of the kids piling in here bright and early, and us having cuddles and catch ups over the week just gone. Of the two of us and that sacred half an hour we had together before we go to sleep. Where we could have a proper chat without little voices interrupting us every few seconds. Sometimes we’d read together too, and other times when we just couldn’t be arsed, we’d simply spend that half an hour scrolling through memes and having a laugh together.

“You’ve got to get out of these wet clothes,” I say gently, with absolutely no teasing suggestion. We’re right on the precipice. I can feel it. And I have to tread so carefully, because one wrong move could send her away, truly lost to me.

I peel my soaked shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes move, trailing over my shoulders. I stand and slowly unbutton my jeans, leaving me in black boxer briefs.

Her eyes follow my every move, looking at me.

I push the blanket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I grasp her jumper at the bottom and lift slowly. I wait for her to push me away but she doesn’t. She raises her arms instead. I pull the jumper over her head and it lands with a plop on the floor. I remind myself not to enjoy the view. I’m trying hard not to look.

My chest rises and falls as rapidly as hers. I sink to my knees in front of her and reach out for the button of her jeans. She lifts her hips and my fingertips graze her skin as I slide them down her thighs, leaving the white lace knickers in place.

“Get under the sheets,” I whisper and she does just that.

She scoots to her side of the bed, and I slide beside her. Without a word, she snuggles into my side. The cool feel of her flesh is a shock at first, but in just a few moments, my heat chases away her chill. Except for her feet. I practically jump when she runs one up my calf.

“Yer a bloody ice cube!”

She laughs kind of evilly.

We face each other, almost nose to nose. Her hair still drips at the ends and a drop trickles over her collarbone, down her chest, and I’ve got to take a deep breath—because I want to lick it off her so badly.

“Talk to me,” she says softly.

“I’m taking time off work.”

“But you never take time off work?”

“I’ve got a lot to make up to the kids,” I tell her. “So I told Jeff to bugger off for at least until after New Year.”

I see her smile in the dim light.

“I’m gonna stay up with my mum,” I add. “I’ll only be an hour away from you lot.”

This is something that I’ve been mulling about. If I really do want a chance with Emma, I need to move up there because absence does not make the heart grow fonder. That may be true in secondary school when you went away for the summer. But in marriage, especially in a broken marriage, absence separates people. It creates distance. That’s the opposite of what you’re trying to achieve. You want the closeness back.

My wife’s palm runs over my bicep—tentatively at first—then with a surer touch. “They’d love that.”

“Also, you remember my old mate Stu?” She nods. “We got in touch just earlier today. He’s got a litter of puppies and he offered one for us. I told him I need to talk to you first. So what do you think?”

“A puppy, huh?”

“A puppy.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” she says. “But I’ve never had a dog though.”

“I can train it first at my mum’s?” I offer. “I’ll get it all settled. Then when it starts sleeping through the night, I’ll bring it over.”

“Does it make me a terrible mum for wishing we had that kind of service when the kids were newborns?”

“We had that service. It’s called sending them to the grandparents.”

We both laugh, and when the laughter dies down, we’re silent for a few minutes. The thrum of my heartbeat jacks up as her hand continues to stroke my arm.

“Harry?” Her voice is the barest whisper, like she’s checking to see if I’m asleep.

“Hmm?”

“I… I’ve missed you. So much.”

And I’m done.

The need to kiss her, to touch her, has been pulling at me like a raging current ever since I saw her on the front step, and with those few words, I let the current take me.

***

Numerous studies have shown that having sex extends the human life span. At this rate, Emma and I are going to live forever. We probably slept twenty minutes max throughout the night and I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve done it. I’m pretty sure the last time we did something like that was ten years ago on our honeymoon.

We’re sitting at the breakfast nook. Her hair mussy and she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. She looks freshly fucked, which I know to be true, and I reckon she’d be ready to crawl back into bed with me if I just crook my finger. But I don’t do that. Because this, us, sitting here in the morning sunlight, playing footsies under the table while we talk over coffee is all I’ve been dreaming about every morning.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks when she catches me looking.

“You,” I smile. “You look perfect.”

“No, no more,” she shakes her head frantically. “I won’t be able to walk.”

“You dirty lass, I was trying to be romantic and all that,” I can’t help but snort in laughter. “And you always do that… rebuff any type of compliment I try to give you.”

It’s true. If I tell her she looks beautiful, she waves a dismissive hand at me. If I compliment her mind, she blushes. Even an appreciative look from me has her turning shy like a schoolgirl.

When she doesn’t respond to me, I continue to poke at her. “Why is that? Why does it embarrass you when I tell you that you’re smokin’ hot?”

She wrinkles her nose at me. “Because it’s weird. I feel like you just have to say that.”

She pretends to go through one of her old magazines from when she still lived here. I reach across the table and bat at it, causing one side to pull out of her hands and reveal her entire face to me. Now she’s glaring. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

And I grin when I see red stain her cheeks.

“And you’ve got the most gorgeous body. I take one look at you naked and I can’t help but get rock hard.”

“Stop it,” she blusters, now blushing all the way down her neck.

I change tactics, but I know this will embarrass her just as much. “You are the most amazing woman. Kindest, genuine and grounded. Funniest too. And you’re the best mother for our babies.”

“Okay,” she snaps at me as she closes the magazine and slams it down onto the table. “You’ve made your point.”

Chuckling, I stretch back in my chair and nudge her foot with mine under the table. “You’re adorable.”

She rolls her eyes, which I find to be beyond adorable.

Standing up from my chair, I walk around the table and hold my hand out to her. She willingly takes it and stands when I give her a tug. It’s a natural move for her, to walk straight into my embrace and press herself against me. I tilt my head and kiss her on her jaw. “It’s something you need to get used to… compliments from me. It’s never going to stop.”

She moans softly in my ear.

“Want to know what else you’re going to have to get used to?” I whisper as I kiss my way down her neck.

Her fingers come up, tangle in my hair, and fist tightly. “What’s that?”

“My face between your legs.”

***

Some people might not put Quaglino’s into the romantic restaurant bracket, but they’d be wrong, very wrong. In actual fact, it’s quite hard to top. The interior has this 1930’s romance charm with candlelit tables, dark-panelled walls and an adjoining room for dancing to the soft tunes of the piano man singing bluesy versions of classic songs.

Tonight, I managed to convince Emma to go out to dinner with me before she goes back to our babies. I insist on driving her since I don’t want her to drive alone at night again, which she initially refused but finally agreed.

We finish our dinner and split a slice of cheesecake for dessert. Probably not my brightest idea since I keep having to readjust myself because seeing her slowly swallow a mouthful of white, creamy concoction is a pure kind of torture. But I try to kick those dirty thoughts out of my mind and focus.

Since last night, we’ve successfully managed to avoid the talk. It feels like we’re in a bubble where everything is perfect and we’re just scared to burst it, but I know this can’t go on. Emma and I need to have a proper chat if we want this to work.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“You and I need to talk, don’t you think?” I begin.

“You’re right,” she nods. “So…”

“What is this?” I gesture between us. “Are you ready to give us another shot?”

“I think so,” she nods. “But I want us to take it slow.”

“You set the pace,” I assure her. “I want this to work more than I want anything else in my life. So I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“We’ll see this as a new dalliance,” she adds.

I know this is supposed to be serious so I try hard not to break into laughter. “Okay. I will court you but I won’t ask you to move to an estate in the country. Not right away at least.”

“I’m serious.”

“You sound like Austen.”

She rolls her eyes. “And we can’t tell anyone either.”

“I agree,” I tell her. “And from now on, we talk to each other, alright? I’ll try to make you happy the best way I know how. But if it’s not enough for you, then you need to tell me.”

She nods, but then her graze drops before she asks. “You really do want this right?”

“I told you I want this to work more than anything else in my life.”

“It’s just… when you first told me you wanted to fight for our marriage, I was overwhelmed because it was all so sudden. You told me everything I wanted to hear. Even at that moment, everything in me screamed for us to just fall back into it all the way. But there was also a part of me that thought you were just lonely, and maybe you thought that us getting back together was the answer to it.”

“Not true-”

Emma holds up her hand. “Maybe not true, but it’s my fear. That’s why I kissed Luke that night, because I was desperate. I wanted to push things with him because I knew I’d never love him the way I love you. I knew that if things went to pot, I wouldn’t be half as devastated. But with you? I don’t think I can survive that type of heartbreak again, H. You don’t know how much it killed me to end our marriage. I can’t afford to fall back into something that’s not going to last.”

“Emma,” I reach across the table to take her hand. “I can’t even imagine how hard it was for you. I know for sure it was not a decision you made lightly, nor on a whim. I wish I had fought you on it then… had fought for you then. There was a time when I thought our marriage was over, and I was going to let you go. But I’m not going to do that now. If it takes you weeks, months, hell, Emma… if it takes you years to fully trust my devotion to you, I’m in this for however long it takes.”

Emma nods, biting into her lower lip. I can see her eyes starting to water because every bit of this is overwhelming. She turns her head towards the music floating in from the other room. It’s a Van Morrison cover, Crazy Love.

“Wanna dance?”

The request takes me by surprise since this isn’t like her. But I toss my napkin on the table and move to stand next to her, holding out my hand. The simple delight on her face when her hand slides into mine is everything.

We step out onto the edge of the dance floor. I wrap my arm around her lower back, holding her tight and flush against me. One of her hands rests on my shoulder, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. The other is clasped in mine just over my heart. We sway, eyes pinned at each other for a few moments.

“Thought you hate dancing?” I smirk.

“Still hate it,” she answers. “I’m just using it as an excuse to be closer to you.”

She sighs, practically sinks into my arms. Emma’s head fits against my chest like she was made to be there. My chin rests against her hair.

“Emma?”

She lifts her head from my chest. “Yeah?”

“You don’t need an excuse.”

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love…

***

“What the-”

“Oi!” I yell, quickly pulling the duvet over my wife and I. “Heard of knocking?”

“Heard of a bedroom lock?” Lucy challenges.

Last night, we drove up the M1 straight from the restaurant. We took breaks in deserted services with shiny floors and bad lighting where we had coffees and wandered around WHSmith bulk buying sweets even though it’s really not that far. But you can never have too many travel sweets, can you?

And now, here we are, back at the cottage. The kids are still at their grandparents until this afternoon so Emma and I are enjoying the benefit of having the house all to ourselves by having a morning shag. That is until one of her sisters walks in on us. I’m very aware that I’m still inside Emma.

I pull out, roll over to lay down next to my wife, and we both stare at Lucy who is dressed from head to toe like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin.

“Party?” Emma asks her sister. We both try not to giggle as she sashays in to look at herself in the mirror then perches on the bed in her harem pants. Today, she’s gone heavy on the winged eyeliner and shows off a flat midriff. I quite like the pointy silver shoes though.

“No, Tesco,” she says dryly. “Obviously a party.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask her.

Lucy glares at me. “What are you doing here? Besides rearranging my sister’s guts, of course.”

I don’t even flinch. I’ve been married to Emma for ten years, I’m used to this sister of hers.

“I’m trying to win your sister back,” I say earnestly. I know that Emma and I talked about keeping this a secret, but she literally walked on us shagging. There’s no point in denying it. It’s best that she knows my true intention rather than thinking we’re divorced with benefits.

“Eh, about time,” she replies nonchalantly.

“Luce, please keep this to yourself for now,” Emma begs her. “This is still new.”

“I will,” she nods. “Just a friendly reminder, though, Styles. If you hurt my sister again, I won’t even think twice before starting a business selling voodoo dolls of you. Bet I could make a fortune of that.”

In their girl gang, Lucy is the wildcard, the likeliest to carry a shank. I don’t even laugh because she could be serious.

“Duly noted.”

“What are you doing here this early?” Emma asks her sister.

“I wanted to ask if I can borrow that giant tiger in George’s room?”

“Feel free to borrow the rug in the front room as well,” I cackle.

“Ooh yeah,” Emma chirps. “Are you going to find a whole new world?”

“Have you got your Aladdin?”

She pulls a face at our mocking. “My mate who’s supposed to be Aladdin is sick so I asked Jamie to fill in and he agreed because he owed me a big favour. But this lot changed their mind and wanted a genie so now I have to go to Jamie’s and convince him to let me do a full blue body paint on him.”

Emma and I roar with laughter. “Please, please, please, take some piccies.”

***

A month later…

I can only imagine the joy on my children’s faces when they open the door. I’ll be standing there with the pup in hand, but I know I’m practically vibrating with excitement myself. I glance over at the little dog crate that we’d prepared to transport him in. It’s a sweet, nine-week-old Bernese mountain dog. He’s pretty chill, curled into a round ball, but he’s not sleeping. His eyes are open and alert, as if he’s just waiting to find out what’s around the next corner.

The back of my Range Rover is loaded with two boxes of food, dog toys, bowls, a leash, and appropriate treats. Since I’m still crashing at my mum’s, that will go to her place for when the kids and this puppy come to stay. Emma has an identical list at her home, already purchased and hiding until we hand the puppy off to the kids.

I’ve got a feeling that today is going to be a good day. All morning, Emma and I texted back and forth. Some of it was practical, like making sure we agreed on all the dog rules we’d lay down with the kids tonight. Some of it was lighthearted teasing. Some of it was dirty.

I can’t remember the last time I texted my wife throughout the day just for the hell of it. I had fun with it, and I know without a doubt she had fun with it too. Which made me realise what a twat I’d been for never doing something as simple as letting her know she was on my mind in just such a way.

Pulling into the drive, I cut my headlights so the kids wouldn’t see me approach. I shut the engine off, quietly get out of my side, and press the door closed quietly. On the other side, I open the passenger door, then spring the latch on the dog crate, and this tiny little puppy totters straight at me with tail wagging.

I lift him in my arms. I shut the door and then move over to the patch of grass. I put the puppy down so he will go potty before I bring him in. When I was a kid, we had a dog called Max, but I sort of grew up with him so I didn’t remember when he was a puppy. And Emma never had a dog before, so we’re sort of winging it with this puppy training thing. But I don’t fret about it. I mean, we’ve had babies, they’re harder than this, surely?

I patiently wait for this little fella to do his business, which includes a few minutes where he attacks my shoelaces and tugs. Shite, he’s cute.

Eventually, he sniffs around, tail high and then abruptly squats to pee. I thought boy dogs lift their legs when they pee but maybe not at this age. I immediately bend and give him praise with an upbeat, positive tone that makes him excited. Who’s daddy’s clever little fella? You are! Yes, you are! You did well, mate. That was brilliant! He puts his paws up on my shin, accepting my stretches with tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of his head. My kids are going to fall in love with this little guy.

I scoop him up in my arms when he’s done and make my way inside. But instead of entering from the front door, I circle the house so I can enter from the back, knowing they must be all in the kitchen as this is usually the time when the kids would do their homework for next week. Walking past the window, I see that I’m right. Emma is at the kitchen island with George next to her and Minnie on the opposite side. My heart starts beating faster at the thought of spending the day with my family—and apparently our new third child in my arms—and I find it almost shameful I have such excitement over it. Shouldn’t I have always been this excited? Or is it normal for things to just settle, and we take them for granted?

I shake that thought off of my mind. I had this important talk with my wife a couple of weeks ago about how we shouldn’t focus on the past. We’re both committed to repairing our marriage, and for it to work, we both know we must commit to living in the present. Because at the end of the day, the present is all we have.

I knock on the door and as planned, Emma will tell the kids to answer it.

In moments, it’s swinging open. I get a flash of Emma walking up behind our kids, but my eyes are pinned on them. They’re both in complete shock, eyes wide open staring at the puppy squirming in my arms.

Both stare at me mutely, frozen, as if they can’t believe that this is real.

Finally, I say, “surprise!”

Minnie’s gaze rises up to meet mine. “Is that ours?”

“This is ours,” I nod, laughing. But still, neither of them move forwards, so I goad them. “Come and get him?”

That’s all it takes for Minnie to scoop this little fella into her arms, pressing her nose into his head and murmuring little endearments. George scratches him and he reacts to their greetings by wiggling frantically and trying to lick both of my kids’ faces. They both laugh in a delighted way I’ve never quite heard before.

I look at my wife and see her tender smile as she watches our littles. I can tell she’s as charmed by it as I am.

I walk inside because it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside and shut the door. “He just peed outside, but we need to keep a close eye on him. If he starts sniffing around or circling, that probably means he needs a wee. Scoop him up and take him out to the back. After he’s done with his thing, give him lots of praise and affirmation.”

“Got it,” Minnie says as she plops down on the living room floor with the pup. The puppy jumps around, and all three of them start to play.

“Now, what should we name him?” Emma asks.

“Droolius Caesar?” I joke.

Emma laughs. “Jimmy Chew?”

“Sarah Jessica Barker?” I continue. “Wait, no, it’s a boy. Franz Fur-dinand?”

“Sir Barks-a-Lot?”

“Deputy Dawg?”

“Bark Twain?”

We both laugh. We’re shite at this. The kids are too busy with the puppy to comment on our suggestions.

SpongeBob SquarePants is on the telly playing in the background. None of them are watching, but I see SpongeBob scratching his snail pet under the chin before he picks up said pet and says, “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

“Gary,” I say. The kids look at me and I point at the telly.

“That’s a ridiculous name for a dog,” Emma cackles. “But I like it.”

“That’s a human name?” Minnie’s brows knit slightly.

“I like it!” George exclaims, then proceeds to baby talk the pup who’s chewing on the end of Minnie’s braid. “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

We laugh.

“H,” Emma calls, and my gaze moves to her. She jerks her chin to the kitchen. “Help me set up the table? I’ve got a cold beer for you.”

Minnie and George still completely ignore us as we move into the kitchen.

It would be natural for me to sit at the kitchen island while Emma gets the beer and checks on the supper, but the kids can see me from where they sit in the living room. So I follow my wife behind the island instead.

Before she can make it two steps, I move right into the back of her. Hands at her hips, I push her all the way forward until the counter catches her hips, then I dip to put my lips to her neck.

Emma’s head falls back and she utters the tiniest of sighs, one arm looping back to go around the side of my head so she can thread her fingers in my hair. It’s an intimate embrace, but not one to provoke lust. Just a message that I missed her even though I saw her two days ago, and I love touching her in this gentle, loving way.

“The kids,” she murmurs. “They might see us.”

“Oh, the tragedy,” I whisper dryly. “Our children seeing their parents hugging.”

Emma snickers and pulls away, glancing over her shoulder. “It would be shocking to them. And until we know for sure what we are and where we’re going, we need to keep them in the dark, remember? I don’t want them to get their hopes up.”

“You’re right,” I mumble in a low voice before moving to the island. I glance back at the living room and see the puppy on George’s back, trying to climb up. “No touching around the kids.”

She smiles and hands me a beer. She’s got one in her hand, and we tap bottles. She then moves to the oven, where she bends to take a peek through the window. Obviously, I stare at her arse as she does.

“It’s done,” she announces, opening the oven to pull the pan of shepherd’s pie.

“Need help with that?’ I ask, noting it looks like it probably weighs fifty pounds.

Twisting, she grins. “Sure. I made a double batch to send you home with some leftovers.”

That gets me. Not only she made one of my favourite meals, but she’s also sending me home with leftovers. I pop off the stool, round the island and take the two potholders she’s holding out to me.

After I carefully lift the pan from the oven, she shuts the oven door. I set it down on the two trivets she’s placed on the counter.

Bending over, I inhale the scent deeply. “Smells fantastic.”

Emma bumps her hip against me. “Well… you’ve been pretty amazing these last few weeks, so…”

I bump her hip back before sliding my hand around her waist. Bending my head, I murmur. “Admit it… it’s for the orgasms I gave you after the school run the other day.”

She chuckles with a sly smile. “Possibly.”

Leaning in closer, I touch my temple on the top of her head, lowering to a complete whisper. “You do know that I can give you that any day you want, right, Em? All you’ve got to do is ask.”

“Oh, I will,” she teases.

“What’s going on here?” Minnie says from behind us.

Emma and I jump apart as if we’d been electrocuted by each other. We spin to see Minnie standing there, with George next to her holding Gary in his arms. These two must have worn that pup out as he is still, watching us curiously.

Minnie’s expression, on the other hand, is condemning and suspicious.

“Nothing’s going on, poppet,” Emma says, her voice a little squeaky in panic. It’s adorable.

“Your mum and I were just talking,” I calmly explain.

“With your arm around her waist and whispering,” Minnie challenges. “Looks more like flirting to me.”

“Are you upset about it?” I challenge back. I knew she was upset when we separated and she struggled with it for a long time.

Her brows knit together. “I’m just confused.”

Emma’s expression indicates she has no clue what to say. I can’t say I’m any more well equipped, but I’m going to take this one. I give my wife a subtle chin tilt, silently telling her I’ll handle this and relief evident in her eyes.

“Come on, you lot. Help me sort Gary’s stuff,” I say, herding them towards the garage.

All three of them follow me into the garage, Gary still cosy in George’s arms.

I immediately spot the stack of supplies, which includes a dog crate similar to mine, as well as bowls, a soft dog bed, food and toys. I pick up the soft bed towards the door that leads back into the house. Minnie turns to precede me, but I stop her. “Hang on there a second, poppet.”

When she pivots to face me her expression is guarded. “You asked about your mum and me. What do you want to know?”

“Were you two flirting with each other just now?” She demands. Crap. She’s nine. She’s not supposed to know that stuff.

I can’t believe I get a little warm in the face at such a question, but I nod. I know it’s probably too soon to tell them but there’s no point in denying this. Both of my children are smart, and they deserve to know what’s going on.

Her eyes narrow. “So are you… what… getting back together?”

“Does it mean you’re gonna live with us again, daddy?” George chirps.

“Not yet, nuggets. It’s not that simple.”

“It kind of is,” she replies. “You left for months. You didn’t even come during the summer. Then once she started dating Luke-”

“What’s dating?” George turns to his sister.

“It’s when you like someone and they like you back and you become boyfriend and girlfriend then you go out to eat together and do other stuff,” Minnie explains, then she continues. “Then once she started dating Luke, you’re suddenly coming around more often. And then she told me that Luke wouldn’t come over anymore and now you two are making googly eyes at each other.”

We lapse into silence for a moment. I need to think carefully about what to say next. George beats me. “I think I’m dating someone.”

“You what?” My eyes widen.

“Yeah. I asked Poppy in the playground to be my girlfriend the other day and she said yes. Then after we were done playing on the slides we got hungry so she shared her raisins with me. I also let her take a sip of my Ribena.”

I try hard not to break into laughter but Minnie doesn’t even crack a smile.

“Okay… so here’s the thing. I was very upset. I know that was wrong of me to just leave without saying goodbye, and it was wrong of me for not visiting sooner. I needed time to let it go, and to accept what your mum wanted. But not once during that time did I not want to come back home. I’ve always wanted my family back.”

“Then what changed?” Minnie asks.

“Your mum and I spent some time apart because we both thought that was the best decision. But we were wrong. Because we realised that we didn’t want to be without each other. So now I’m trying to prove that I’ve changed. That I’m a better man, and I’m ready to be a better husband. The one your mum deserves.”

“See,” Minnie murmurs, her expression filled with confusion. George dips his head and rubs his cheek against Gary’s head, who seems to be on the verge of falling asleep. “I don’t get it. You and mum always seemed to get along great. You never argued. I never understood why you left.”

I move in close to my daughter and brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “A lot of that stuff is private between your mum and I, poppet.”

George asks. “But why can’t you just move in now, daddy?”

“It takes time, mate. Your mum and I need more time to sort ourselves out. But I promise you two that we’re trying our hardest here, okay? We need you both to be patient. Can you do that for us?”

They both nod in unison. Gary blinks twice.

“I can’t wait for us to be family again,” says Minnie.

Grinning, I bend to kiss her head. “Me too, poppet…”

***

Emma

“Gary! This way, Gary!”

Harry and I look at each other across this rather windy hilltop. The kids and Gary are exploring the neighbouring bushes and pathways as we perch ourselves on a rock nearby. We take in the view, the breeze biting at my cheeks.

My husband turns to me. “Tea? I put some whisky in it.”

“Hell, why not.”

Harry pours the tea out and we clink mugs. He brushes his thumb across my nose for no absolute reason. I was born and raised here, but this is something I’ll never tire of: these swooping hills and valleys, infinite skies and bracing breezes. As much as I loved London, I’m glad we’ve traded that life with this simpler one. There is no taxi nor Tube in sight but our kids are somehow a little bouncier and carefree. They’re happy here, and that’s all that matters.

“Ey up,” greets Harry at a group of people walking past us. They are obviously tourists as they have no way to respond and one of them is wearing bog standard Reebok Classics.

We hear the kids squeal in the distance and we both smile at each other. Getting that pup was probably one of our best decisions.

“Do you remember when we first dated?” Asks my husband. “You brought me up here.”

I nod. “I do.”

“The view was decent,” he grins.

“I know you’re not thinking about the view.”

“I was thinking about what happened when we got to the top of the meadow…”

“That was some decent shag,” I chuckle. “Nowadays, I’d worry about getting ticks on my unmentionables.”

We laugh.

I stare over at my husband taking in the view and sipping tea noisily. He always pauses for a moment on any walk to drink it all in. He rustles in his bag and gets a packet of biscuit out, opening the packaging awkwardly and offering it to me.

“Did you know that you’re supposed to call it ‘niece’ and not ‘nice’? Apparently, they’re named after the French town.”

“That’s proper pub quiz trivia knowledge right there, Styles,” I tease.

We stay up here for a little while, but since it’ll get dark soon, we start our walk back to the car. The one thing you forget about taking kids up mountains (small hills) is that for all that experience of green space and fresh air, eventually, you will have to bring them down. Despite having an entire packet of biscuit (with a whole lot of why did you bring this one? This is rubbish. You could’ve brought hobnobs), we failed to remember to pack enough snacks and a fine drizzle is now scratching at our faces. It takes George much persuading to keep walking and by the time we return to the car, the sun is dipping behind the clouds and the twilight sits in the air.

Harry decided it was fine to park in a deserted car park in the middle of nowhere to escape the throngs of regular walkers and tourists but strangely enough, when we get back there, we are one of six parked up.

“Come on, mate. Literally, just to the car. Like twenty more steps,” Harry begs our son to keep on walking.

“You lied!” He complains. “You said that twenty steps ago.”

“I’ve got Haribo in the car.”

He progresses to a light canter.

“Where did all these cars come from?” Harry asks as he approaches our motor cautiously.

“Maybe you’re not the only smart one here and people are following your lead.”

A car flashes us.

I look around at all the cars. People are sat in them. What are they waiting for? You see this sometimes when waiting for the rain to pass or when people decide to eat their lunch in the car.

Suddenly, I hear a car door open and a gentleman approaches us. His footsteps are low.

I know him. It’s Patrick. He’s our postman, so, yes, we have our very own Postman Pat. It was the first thing that tickled Harry when he found out years ago. And even better, the joke is not lost on Pat. His wife even got him a stuffed black and white cat for his cherry-red van window. I smile at recognising him, as do all of the occupants in our car.

“Emma, Harry, kids. Fancy seeing you here, of all places.”

“We’ve got a new dog and we were just taking him for a walk,” I inform him.

“Oh, lovely. What’s his name?”

“Gary,” the kids say in unison.

“Have you got a dog, Pat?” George asks him.

“No, my wife’s a cat lady. But funny you should mention dogs. This place here, people like to come here for that reason.”

“Gary seemed to like it,” pipes in Harry. “I think it’ll be his favourite.”

“That it is. People come here all the time for walking and with their dogs and other such endeavours.” His face looks slightly ashen at this point, his eyes darting towards the other cars. “And the other sense of the word… I just thought I would mention it as you have the littl’uns and it’s getting darker. I think someone just flashed his lights to warn you.”

Harry and I realise what he means exactly at the same time. “OH!” we say at the same gobsmacked volume.

“Dogg…ing…” Harry mumbles. “We should-”

“Leave, like definitely leave, like now,” I say finishing his sentence.

The kids appear confused. I look around and shield my eyes. I should shield the children’s eyes. Pat’s wife waves from the passenger seat.

“Give our regards to June,” I say.

“Will do.”

He salutes us and returns to his car. The kids have all the questions. “People come here to look at dogs?” George asks. “Where are the dogs?”

“Get. In. The. Car.” Harry mouths very deliberately.

I slink into the passenger seat. Our eyes dart in different directions trying to divert focus from any of the cars ahead. We’ll be good if Harry doesn’t drive us off a cliff face. He turns on the wipers, the engine roars to a start and he pulls away slowly.

“We could have stayed and seen the dogs,” says George, a little despondently. “Gary would’ve loved to see his mates. Wouldn’t you, Gary?”

I throw a packet of Haribo at him. Harry and I are silent. We’ve just strolled our children and our very young dog into an outdoor sex hotspot. We are terrible parents.

“Who fancies chips?” Harry says as he changes gear. He finds our littles in the rear-view mirror and studies their faces. “There’s a decent chippy down road.”

There’s a chorus of approval from the back seat. My husband smiles. He then moves his hand over from the gearstick to find mine, fingers interlocked, the sky glowing a thousand different colours.

***

“Are you calling my turkey dry?”

I look over at my older sister Suze in the corner of our family kitchen wondering where on earth she had the courage to come out with a comment like that. Even her husband stops washing up to absorb what his wife just said to our mother. I mean, you think it, but you just douse it in gravy and make do. Such is the joy of white chalky meat like turkey. Why do this now? Now she’ll harp on about the bacon she puts on the breasts and all the goose fat. But it’s Suze. She likes the challenge. I secretly think the only way she believes she can have a relationship with our mother is to spar with her regularly so they at least have one line of communication.

“It was a lovely dinner, Mum. Did you make the mince pies?” Suze winks at me.

I shake my head at her and bring the plate of mince pies through to the living room. Amidst my mother’s wreaths and tinsel wrapped around the lampshades, it’s a familiar tableau: Pop, my grandfather, asleep in the armchair in the corner, a holy green paper hat covering his eyes. Small children crawl on the floor and make angel shapes with their bodies amidst remnants of old glittery wrapping paper. I hope Mum’s made a trifle. My other sister Meg and her husband snooze on a neighbouring sofa, catching on much needed sleep since they just had a baby four months ago and I still remember four months sleep regression is hell. I like this part of Christmas where bits of old crackers litter the floor and twilight takes over.

I take a mince pie and escape to the last vacant spot on the sofa. George rests his head on my knees. “What are you eating, mummy?” I look down at his bright green eyes and wonder how he can still be hungry as he must be ninety per cent roast potato at this point.

“A mince pie.”

“With cow mince?”

“No, like fruity bits,” I pick out said fruity bits and drop them into his mouth like a baby bird. He pulls a face, tasting it, and then walks away.

Harry smiles at me from the bottom of the Christmas tree. He’s laying down on the floor with one of my nieces. He’s always been great with kids, long even before we have our own. My niece has her palm out, and Harry runs circles in it as he sings, “round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…”

She smiles and laughs, poising her fingers, ready to bounce.

“One step, two-step, tickle me under there,” he pretends to collapse into giggles and my niece’s little face broadens into laughter before she rolls over and walks away to play with her cousins.

Finishing my last bite of the tiny pie, I roll under the tree to join my husband. He looks at me as I cosy up next to him, the lights reflect off his eyes.

My mother likes a real tree for Christmas. It’s the smell, you can’t beat the smell. I like to think you can get that real pine smell from a good supermarket brand toilet cleaner but I don’t say that out loud for fear of incurring her festive wrath. And so there’s always a real tree and like we endured when my siblings and I were teens, there’s still a daily rota of vacuuming up the needles as we watch that bastard go crusty and brown as it’s shoved up against the radiator.

We lay there in silence, looking up at the branches and my mother’s multicoloured lights twinkling in some erratic fashion that my eyes can’t quite handle. I’ve been to raves that were less of an assault on the senses. It’s an overwhelming memory of our childhood, lying in silence wigging out on mum’s trippy disco lights, absorbing the magic of the season.

“You’re drunk aren’t you, tipsy-tits?”

“You were the one who poured double shots of Baileys in our coffees this morning,” I cackle.

“That’s called Christmas milk.”

“What are you doing here?” Minnie asks, her head nestling into my shoulder. I rake pine needles from her head.

“Nothing…” Harry replies. “Where’s yer brother?”

“Here,” George suddenly appears, rolling under the tree next to his dad to join us.

“Looks like the awesome foursome is back, huh?” Harry grins.

Minnie and George hum in agreement. I can see my babies smiling.

It’s time.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

I take a deep breath. “Will you come back home with us?”

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years ago

Text

Home (Four Times Crowley was Lovesick - and Aziraphale Took Care of Him)

Written for @do-it-with-style-events "Who Needs A Great Plan" event, Day 1, prompt "Four"

Crawly stood beneath the white wing, watching the rain fall, watching the humans walk away, watching anything but the angel beside him, his smile, the way he furrowed his brow and pouted.

His heart kept doing a funny skipping thing every time he looked that way, which was odd, and made him think he’d gotten some sort of defective body, or possibly that he’d messed something up in the transition from the serpent form.

“You know, I do think this rain might not be as pleasant as I’d hoped,” the angel said, tipping his head back so sopping white curls dangled, dripping onto his robe. “I’m starting to feel a bit cold, are you?”

“Nah. M’adem’n,” Crawly muttered, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

“Well. I suppose we all have our aptitudes.” He reached down to squeeze the rainwater from his sleeve. “I suppose you carry the fires of Hell within you, or something?”

“S’nice.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the angel turn to smile at him and now his heart was doing some sort of backflip, and his stomach attempting to dance. “G-g-gotta keep’m somewhere.”

“I see. I do find myself missing my sword, but I think…” his lips pursed. “I think it’s in the right hands.”

How could he forget the angel had given away his sword.Fucking brilliant.

Crawly sniffed, and the cold seemed to creep into his nose. “M-must’a b’n-n-nice t’have a-a-achoo!”

His body must be worse than he’d thought. His entire face seemed to have exploded.

“Good lord, what was that?” The angel shuffled closer, peering at him, reaching up to poke at Crawly’s nose. “Is this supposed to make that sort of noise?”

The demon braced himself, expecting pain, expecting a reprimand, expecting anything but a soft finger gently massaging the bridge of his nose, pressing lightly as if he might break.

“S’only a-achoo!” Not again. “Achoo! A-CHOO!”

“This sounds serious!” The angel now stood so close that his arm pressed against Crawly’s. “Oh! And your hand!” He snatched it up, gently tracing his fingers across the demon’s palm. “It’s cold! Have your fires gone out?”

“Nnnnnnnnnh. S’th’cold,” he confessed. “S’getting in m’nose.”

“Well, that will not do.” Being careful to keep his wing in place, the angel looped his arms around Crawly’s waist, drawing him into an unexpected softness, a steady warmth. “There. Is this better?”

“Mrgl.” Crawly didn’t look over, even as the angel leaned against him. He shifted his am, putting it around the angel’s shoulders, rubbed his forearm as he rubbed Crawly’s side, but the demon did not look.

It was safer that way.

“Then you hold the oyster like this, and—” Aziraphale slurped it out of the shell.

“Ngk.” Crowley swirled his wine, glaring into the cup. “I…maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”

“Nonsense! Trying new foods is one of the delights of the world.”

“Yeah, but…I prefer foods that don’t smell so bad.”

That made Aziraphale laugh, which made things harder. It seemed to echo in Crowley’s chest, send his heart into answering flutters. He shifted on the couch, but there was only so far he could roll before it was impossible to drink. Which meant he had to keep looking across the table, at Aziraphale’s couch, where he reclined in a rolling curve of soft white toga and ate his oysters and wouldn’t stop smiling.

“Crowley? Are you feeling quite well?”

“Nrgh. Yeah. Why?”

“Because I asked four times how your wine is and you never responded.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t remember, so he drank a mouthful, then immediately spat it out. Salt water and vinegar, same as any Roman wine. “Lousy.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” And all at once, the angel rolled off his couch and now he was crossing the room and oh Satan, he was on Crowley’s.

This was a disaster.

Aziraphale leaned down and rested a hand on Crowley’s forehead. “You do feel extremely warm. Are you ill? I’m not sure a demon can get ill but—”

“Yes! Yes. That.” He tried to sit up. “Very, very ill. I should go. I should go now—”

“But—”

Crowley managed to get his feet under him, and his robe under his feet, and he collapsed again, falling onto something softer than the couch Oh Satan it was Aziraphale’s lap.

“Crowley!” His head turned instinctively and shit, those eyes were so close.

His heart was going to explode, but it was worth it.

“I should…take you home…”

“Ahhhhhhhh,” Crowley managed. Yes. Please. Please, wherever you call home, that’s where I want to be.

“Yes. Right. Immediately. Tell me where you’re staying, and I will escort you back.”

“My…my…oh.” His stomach was doing something new, twisting around itself. Like when he saw the Hellhounds getting ready for a walk, but worse. “M’a’th’p’liss.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m! At! Th—thepalace.” Great. Now he was either shouting or mumbling. Why couldn’t he think?

“Good. Right. Palace.” He slid his arm behind Crowley, supporting him. “Do you think you can walk?”

The demon’s legs had never shaken like this before. “Definitely not.”

“That’s alright.” And Aziraphale scooped him up into his arms, as easily as if Crowley were a child. “I’ll help you.”

Crowley hadn’t slept in over a month.

He shouldn’t have needed to. Demons didn’t sleep. But he’d gotten used to it, most nights, and now his task consumed him day and night, driving him to ever more complex plans, ever more desperate measures.

But finally…finally…he’d gotten a bloody crowd to see that gloomy talk-y play.

And just in time. Aziraphale had sent word that he was returning tonight, and he was supposed to meet Crowley here, outside the inn. The demon had rooms above, which had been used for scheming and planning and plotting and not, for a long time, sleeping.

He was fine, though. Running on pure adrenaline, yeah, but that just made life good. He couldn’t wait to swagger into that theater, spread his arms and show the angel—

“Ah, Crowley! There you are, my good fellow.”

He turned his head and fuck, there went his knees. Aziraphale was smiling at him like he was actually glad to see Crowley, and his entire body just stopped obeying any commands or even regular rules of biology. He staggered, legs feeling watery, his head spun, lights brighter than stars flashing before his eyes, and his heart just ached to reach out.

“Crowley? Is something the matter?”

“Mnothang.” Brilliant. He slumped against the wall of the inn, trying to get some sense of reality back. “M’a little tired’s’all.”

“Tired? Are you sure?” Aziraphale rushed forward, cupping Crowley’s face in his hand. “You feel…clammy. I need—can you take your glasses off? I need to see your eyes.”

“Szfiiiine.” But he pulled them off, and found himself again pierced by eyes glowing just a bit too blue to be allowed.

“No, no your eyes are glassy. And—and look, your pulse is racing.”Now came the concerned look, oh Satan, no one else ever looked at Crowley like that. “This…this looks a great deal like the latest plague, I saw several villages struck by it coming back.”

“Angelllll. M’ademon. We don’ get th’plague.” Why could he not just speak normally?

“Nonsense, you know perfectly well you’ve always had a strange constitution, getting sick far too often. You still have rooms here, yes? Upstairs. To bed.”

Will you come with me? The angel’s hand hadn’t moved from Crowley’s cheek, and he never wanted to be away from that touch again. “But…”

“No buts.” The hand did fall away, but only to grip his shoulder, spin Crowley around and propel him forward, through the door, and up the stairs.

Aziraphale walked past the mess in his room, the papers, notes, maps, disguises, and everything else needed to convince a city it actually liked that blasted play. He steered Crowley directly to the bed, and pushed him down onto it. “There. Stay put, please.”

“Nnnnh.” It wasn’t the most comfortable place he’d ever lain, but the rough straw mattress seemed luxurious just now. Something tugged at his foot, and he looked up to find Aziraphale, carefully pulling his shoes off. “Still here?”

“What are you talking about? Where else would I be?” He sounded cross.

“The play.”

“Play? Play? Oh, yes, Hamlet.” He tossed the shoes aside and settled Crowley’s leg back onto the bed. “I’m sure I’ll have plenty of opportunities. I hear they’re planning to run it twice as long as they’d expected.”

Of course they were, Crowley was good at his job. But there was no point if Aziraphale didn’t see the crowd. “Gotta go,” he insisted, though his body was already curling up on itself, preparing for a long sleep.

“Absolutely not.” A rustle, and when Crowley’s eye cracked open again, Aziraphale was seated on the edge of the bed, taking Crowley’s hand in his. “I need to make sure you’re alright.”

“Hnnngh.” But he was far too exhausted to argue. “Why’r’ya’lways…fussing…like y’r worried…”

He didn’t hear Aziraphale’s answer, but in his dream the angel said, “Of course I worry. Whatever would I do without you?”

“All them angels,” Crowley shouted, bottle in hand, “an’specially Gabriel, can go! To! Helllllllll!”

“Really? And what about the demons already there?”

“Thas’th brilliant part.” He staggered a little, grinning at Aziraphale. Their celebration at the Ritz had gotten a little out of hand, but in a good way. A way they bloody well deserved. “Th’demons. They go to Heaven. But. But. Buuuuuuut.” He took a long drink, then offered the bottle to the angel, who shook his head. “Wha’was I…ri’ri’righ’—go to Heaven. But. Don’ tell’em th’passwords. For anyfing.”

“Won’t they just figure them out?”

“Nnnnnnnnope! Cuz allll the brains in Hell are right here!” He shouted in the general direction of the office building. “Have fun puttin’…Hastur’n charg’a…stuff…” He tried for another drink, but the wine had all gone. “Awwww.”

“Don’t worry, my dear, we’re nearly home.”

“Ya. S’good.” Home was good. Plants. Television. More wine. The bed. Hadn’t slept all week.

Why was Aziraphale coming with him? Hadn’t the shop un-burned down? Had he left something at Crowley’s flat? A…spare bowtie?

Also: why did Mayfair look suspiciously like Soho?

The penny dropped at about the time Aziraphale got the shop door unlocked. “Thizzisn’ home,” he pointed out.

“Well-spotted. Come on, then.”

Shrugging, Crowley followed. There’d be more wine here, at least, and a sofa to sleep on. Not the most comfortable, but he was tired enough.

Something was different. Crowley squinted at a pile of books, but they remained stubbornly bookish. Ah, well. Sofa.

He slumped on it, waiting for Aziraphale to head to the back room for some wine, or settle into his armchair. Maybe pick up a book to read while Crowley rambled.

Instead, the angel sat beside him.

“Annngiraphel…”

“Crowley. Are you sure you’re feeling well?”

“Course. I’m cebretory. Cerebrorrry. Celebatory. ‘M partying.”

“Yes, I know. But…I just…” Oh, Someone. The concerned, furrowed brow. The pouting lips. The eyes. So much worse than the smile. Good thing Crowley was already sitting, because the room was starting to spin, even before Aziraphale picked up his hand. “I wish you would take care of yourself.”

“Wha? I do. Allllays do. No one else’z gonna do’t. Not’n Hell. Wily demon, righ’?” He tried to smile, even as his heart and stomach started switching places.

“Then why are you always unwell? I’ve lost count of…of how many times I’ve seen you falling over, unable to speak, too hot or too cold.”

“Ssssss’not like that.”

“Yes it is! And…and it was bad enough before. Crowley, we…we’re all we have left. Each other. And…and whatever it is that…that gets you into this condition…alcohol, or illness, or…whatever else. I wish you would avoid it.”

“Can’t.”

“Crowley—” Aziraphale pulled his hand closer, eyes pleading, and for a moment the demon thought he’d just discorporate on the spot. Probably would have if he’d been sober.

“Can’t. S’only one thing tha’makes me…fall orer mysel’. Makes me…can’t speak. S’only evrrr been one.”

Aziraphale’s face was so soft. Crowley couldn’t figure out how his hand had gotten there, pressed to his cheek, but it was good.

Or not. Angel’s eyes went wide. Probably did something wrong. Crowley pulled his hand back, wondering if he’d be kicked out.

“Can you…sober up, dear?”

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnidonwanna.” He wrinkled his nose. Shoulda stopped three bottles ago.

“Yes, I know. But you’ll likely have a hangover either way, and you might as well have it now. And…I want to finish this conversation sober.” Oh, the sad eyes, the serious face.

“Awwwwwtha’s no’fair. S’not like I c’n say no.”

“I…yes, you can. It is your choice.”

“Nnnh. Can’t say no’ta’you.” He looked around for something, maybe a garbage bin or…oh, yes, a planter. Lucky tree was about to get some very expensive alcohol.

He concentrated, pulling all the alcohol out of his body, filling one planter, then another, then another. As the light-headedness faded, the headache came in, pounding and pulsing.

“Glarghl.” Crowley pressed a hand to his eye. “See? Sober. Happy?”

“Not yet. Can you walk?” A light tug on his hand, and Crowley staggered to his feet, trailing after Aziraphale. Up the stairs? They never went up there. Private bookshelves and sculptures and junk.

At the top, Aziraphale opened a door that he’d thoughtwas a closet but actually led to Crowley’s bedroom.

Wait.

Crowley turned around, bleary eyes searching the shop. Plants. His plants. His sculptures. Junk. Also his.

Back to the bedroom. His bed, his furniture. Not his room. Wooden walls covered in bookshelves, good sized window looking out at the back alley. He could just see the Bentley parked out there.

“Th’fuuuuck…”

“I’m…I’m sorry. I should have asked.” Aziraphale gently pushed him towards the bed. “If you don’t like it, I’ll put everything back tomorrow. I just.” A gentle nudge, and Crowley sat on the bed. “I want you close. Where I can take care of you.”

“Don’need it.” He wriggled his toes, making his boots vanish. It was easier than meeting Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Yes, you do.” A hand on his shoulder pushed Crowley down into the bed, his head onto the pillow

It felt so much more comfortable here, in Aziraphale’s shop, with Aziraphale beside him.

“No. Don’t need you to take care of me.” He stared resolutely up at the ceiling, searching his aching head for the words he needed. Swallowing, trying to push aside the pain, the soreness in his throat. “I need…I just need…”

He couldn’t say it. But he reached out, hand groping along the edge of the bed until it found Aziraphale’s, resting lightly on the mattress. Cautiously, Crowley slid his hand on top of it.

“Crowley…please look at me.” His eyes wandered down, following the shelves until they landed on Aziraphale’s face. On his brilliant, angelic smile.

The demon tried to smile back, though his head was pounding. He managed something like a grimace. “Nnnnnnnnh. C’n we finish this in’th’morning.”

“Do you think you’ll be better able to talk?”

“Mrrrf. Will you be there?”

“Of course,” the angel said, nearly indignant.

“Nope. Not a chance.” His thumb traced the back of Aziraphale’s hand. “I can never say what I want. S’not even that many words. But…” Crowley shrugged.

“Can you move over?” Aziraphale asked, sliding his hand out from under Crowley’s.

The demon blinked, confused, and wriggled further along the mattress.

The bed dipped under the new weight as Aziraphale climbed into the vacated space, laying beside him. “I…I could never say it, either. Always something stopping me, some…uncertainty. Even now. But I shall keep trying.” His fingers gently brushed Crowley’s cheekbone. “My dear…would you like to…to make this place…your home?”

“Nh. Shop’s not home.” The fingers jerked away, and Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, not in concern this time, in pain. Fuck. Why was it so hard?

He caught Aziraphale’s hand before it could get far, bringing it back, gently resting it against his heart. “This, Angel. This’s home. You.”

“Oh.” Blue eyes blinked, a look of wonder in them Crowley had felt many times, wonder at this being who cared for him, who stayed by him. Always. “I…I see.”

The mattress shifted again, and suddenly the angel was closer. Which of them had moved? Did it matter? Did anything matter, apart from Aziraphale’s arm across him, all the warmth and softness he could ever ask for, pulling him in, pulling him close, enveloping him as it had that first day.

“Yes. Welcome home, dear.”

56 notes · View notes

anerdinallherglory · 4 years ago

Text

Approaching Sun (30)

Author’s Note: Happy late Valentine’s Day! Fun note: I actually started A.S. on this very same holiday a couple years back. And I did not expect the length or plot this story has taken at allll. Again, I am sorry this is so late. I am hoping to update a LOT more this summer (only one summer class this time!) Unless I get the new job that I am hoping for (fingers crossed). But if I get this job, my free time to write will really open up for me. So it’s a win-win for this story either way.

Also, I want to especially thank these readers: adarkunicorn, softshelldefence, seafoamsands, hatakeliz, harza4925, peachop, cheese-and-biscuits, epitomeofprocrastination, tamnobela, and andreeastroe. These readers really encouraged me to keep writing this story after I was ready trash and take it off all of its publishing sites. You can thank them this story continues.

To all my reviewers, I seriously love you ALL. I am hoping I will get to a point where I can take a break from student emails and respond to each and every one of your reviews in the future. That will be my new year’s resolution this year! I am going to be better. You are all amazing and bring me so much joy and encouragement.

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29

Chapter 30: A Very Dangerous Game

Sasuke hated Kaguya’s sand dimension even more than he disliked the desert that covered the vast majority of the Land of Wind. This dimension was forever hot despite that the dimension’s otherworldly moon hung low in the dark horizon, a massive orb of blinding white that mirrored the Earth’s moon in exact replica. Sasuke had always felt like the illusion was a reminder of the Otsusuki people, and that Kaguya had designed this dimension to display something that reminded her of home. To Sasuke, the dimension moons eerily reminded him of Kaguya’s pupil-less irises, always watching the spaces that existed between nothing.

Glaring at it in paranoid response, Sasuke, deprived of chakra now, walked toward it slowly and determinedly as a challenge. He would show her exactly how her dimensions were now his domains. The Uchiha decided he would walk freely here because he couldn’t do as he pleased his own world. He wanted to scream curses at that eye-like globe, demanding the Otsusuki show up and take him on now in his weakened state.

“Come on!” he screamed. “All of you! What are you waiting for? Let’s get this over with! I will find you all eventually!” He wanted it done. He wanted this over. He wanted to have a life despite his promise to be the worlds’ sacrifice for peace.

As if to taunt him, Sasuke’s shuffling feet snagged over something in the sand, and he glanced down at his feet in surprise. A ninja’s vest, half-burnt away from acid, displayed itself like a green bearing flag left behind by those who had explored a barren planet. Even though Sasuke had been the only human to ever walk here, Sakura’s old vest that Sasuke had used as a teleport connection between dimensions back when he had been trapped here, always served as a call to his more current jumps. In other words, every time Sasuke had come here over the past couple of years, no matter where he opened the portal, he would always land within a few feet of it.

In the past, he had thought of removing it because it was a painful reminder in many ways. But as he returned consistently to the same spot, Sasuke began to theorize that it had something to do with his ability to travel here. At first, Sasuke believed it was because during teleportation, his path crisscrossed into a connection that had already been created and used before—this was the most likely explanation; his chakra simply wasn’t strong enough to rip a new tear in the fabric of space and time. But as he looked at it now, Sasuke wondered if there was more to it than that. Did emotions tie him to this piece of fabric? And because Sasuke’s friends always existed somewhere in the back of his mind, did his chakra seek it out as something familiar to secure itself to before flinging him through the vacuum of nothingness?

Sasuke glared back at the moon in hatred, wondering too, if it could be just a sick part of Kaguya’s illusions, knowing that the vest had in the past and always, always would continue to stop the Uchiha in his tracks. A temptation reminding him of a different life, one that would cause him to ignore the Otsusuki. Kaguya would want that.

He sat down beside it despite how much he wanted to turn and walk away from it as he always had. This time, he let it be his beacon out of the void, drawing some sort of strength from it in his chakra-deprived state. The whole point of being this exhausted was to avoid thinking of her, but the tattered shinobi vest always pricked him with guilt, especially now when he had left her alone in Sunagakure despite his promises of partnership. It was as if the green material had a voice of its own, saying “See how far she would go for you?” And Sasuke, keeping his thoughts private from the ever-watching rock above, would think to himself “I am doing this for her, too. She will understand eventually. She will accept just how far I am willing to go for this peace we both envision. We have the same goal.”

As Sasuke thought these thoughts again, Sasuke accepted that if they couldn’t be united in love, then at the very least, they would be united in the same goal, the same vision of happiness. It comforted him ever so slightly.

He sighed as he fingered the chakra pills at his waist, guilt invading his chest and suffocating him. How could he tell her his true feelings and make her accept what he was willing to accept? How could he satisfy the both of them and do the least damage?

Sasuke exhaled and leaned back in the sand once more to sleep, sweat beading across his brow in the high temperature. He turned on his side and faced the vest in exhaustion, pretending it was her—pretending to be satisfied with this small piece of the woman he loved and would ever allow himself to dream this close to.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The blackness pervaded all of Sakura’s senses as soon as her feet hit the ground opposite the giant hole she had just created in the sand. She blinked hard, hearing the cursing and alarmed proclamations of those she had attacked. The darkness was like a leaden mist before her eyes and Sakura instinctively created the sign of “release” for genjutsu. And whether it was from her lack of chakra, or because this was a ninjutsu, Sakura’s attempts yielded zero results. The blackness remained and blinded her past several inches in front of her face. When she heard Isao’s shout for her, she had no choice but to dart forward blindly, determined to reach him before someone else did.

“Let go of me!” the child screamed, his pursuer unfortunately catching up with him. Sakura navigated through the pillars of sand-dripping earth that now projected themselves in the air around her. With hands outstretched, she cursed herself. The blow had meant to disorient her opponents and it had, but this damn thickening darkness made it difficult to move forward through the landscape of her own destruction. Thankfully, the waterfalling crumble of sand masked her rushed footfalls.

The kunoichi drew upon her chakra once more, but it came as slowly as before, the medicine still lingering in her system with its toxic chakra clotting effects. Sakura moved hurriedly ahead, hoping that she wasn’t the only one choked with darkness.

Isao’s curses came and Sakura finally rounded a huge boulder to find herself facing the back of the thug’s head. He had his massive hands around the child’s throat, weapon tossed aside in favor of a crueler death to the victim that had caused him so much trouble. Despite his struggle for his life, Isao made eye contact with her the moment they were close enough to see each other. His attacker saw recognition register in the boy’s eyes and spun to face her. But it was too late. Sakura’s kunai was slicing the gray flesh of his throat before he even had time to see her, a final blow that had been delayed from earlier, but determined by fate to be his cause of death. The brutish ninja dropped to the ground instantly and Sakura justified the blood that pooled freely at her feet by remembering his cruel actions to the child that struggled to catch his breath before her.

Sakura picked up the abandoned weapon, the weight unfamiliar in her hands. The sound of the man’s death had betrayed her position, and the footsteps of his companions crunched closer to her location. Terrified, Sakura clutched the child, pushing him behind the jagged column of rock behind her.

“Isao,” she pleaded in a whisper. “You have to make a run for it.”

“I won’t leave you,” he declared, determined to fight to his death for her.

“The only thing you can do for me now is to go get help,” she said honestly. It was a half-truth. There were only a few realities before them, and Isao making it back to the village and bringing help was not likely due to how much time it would take. But Sakura was desperate to remove the brave child from the scenario. She cared too much to let him sacrifice himself for her.

“Miss—” he protested, but Sakura propelled him forward in the blinding darkness, an enemy’s footsteps rounding the earth that cloaked him. It was too late to argue, and Sakura turned to face the phantom-man who stepped toward her in visibility, shadows curling around him as he cleared a path through the inky mist.

Sakura faced him squarely, taking a defensive stance and raising the wicked katana with her sharper green eyes, sending a stare to him along the metal’s surface. The shadow-wielding ninja smirked and the rest of his crew appeared beside him.

“Go!” she screamed in final command at the child whose feet took off into the black at her back.

Sakura brandished the sword in confident threat at her attackers, herself serving as the shield between herself and Isao; they wouldn’t move an inch in pursuit of his direction if she had anything to do with it. Sakura had never wielded a sword before, but in the absence of chakra, she would become a master at it in this moment. Sakura was a kunoichi, a medic, a chakra control master, the pupil of a legendary Sanin, a rising legend herself, and today, she would add something else to her list. Scratch that. She would two things tonight: she would eradicate this new movement of anti-peace revolutionaries, and she would do it at disadvantage with the weapon of her enemy.

. . . . . . . .

As Isao ran, he clutched his side in pain, a sharp stab in his waist. The man who Sakura had killed moments before must have broken one of his ribs as he crushed Isao to the ground. At first, the young ninja pitched forward in blackness, half-debating to turn back to help the pink-haired ninja. But Isao knew the truth. He had been foolish to pursue her and her kidnappers alone and he cursed himself for his rash decisions in his fear of losing sight of them; he should have told someone else even if he lost their trail. Any of them, anyone at allwould have been better help to Miss Haruno than he had been.

Isao’s bravery amounted to nothing and it was evident in every piercing word from the medic kunoichi: The only thing you can do for me now is to go get help … Isao let the command fuel him forward despite the pain, until the night faded into morning hours later and the mighty walls of the Sand Village came into view.

He didn’t know how much time had passed and he didn’t wait to scream for help. The Kazekage was not in the village—he had overheard that much. Neither was the teammate that traveled with Miss Haruno. He yelled the only name he could think of, the name his heart still cried out to despite how much he hated him. The roaring sand shrouded his cries, and the prison walls would buffer it completely, but Isao begged to the air, shouting over and over, “FATHER! HELP ME!”

. . . . . . . .

The taste of the chakra pill was bitter, smoky and acrid. The Uchiha almost gagged trying to swallow it down, and he silently confirmed that Sai had been right—although Sasuke hated to agree with anything his entitled replacement said. What had he called them? Mudballs? Despite the accurate term, Sasuke feared his kunoichi companion more than he hated the taste, so he would keep the complaint to himself.

The pill pooled in his stomach and Sasuke took a breath, focusing on the ignition starting in his core. The rush of power was exhilarating as it topped off his chakra supply, overflowing visibly in a blue-purple halo around him. It sizzled along his skin and Sasuke grinned wickedly as a spiraling vortex appeared before him, much larger than any he had been able to create on his own before.

This was it! It was working! He pushed beyond the core dimension easily, his ready supply of chakra speedily fueling the tunnel between the void, but it ate and ate away at his energy and the color disappeared from his skin. Running off his own meager supply now, Sasuke exhaled and grinded his teeth in concentration. Finally, the connection was made and Sasuke threw himself through it.

He landed roughly, skidding to a halt, and he was ironically thankful for once for the Land of Wind’s high volume of sand. Sasuke found himself smirking up at the lightening sky as he recovered, because this was his first victory in a long struggle of jumping dimensions. To the Uchiha, it was proof that he was doing exactly what he was meant to do: beat Kaguya and the Otsusuki clan at their own game in their own territory. Giddy in his success, Sasuke used the last of his dwindling energy to rise to his feet, his thoughts immediately turning to the woman who had helped make this all possible—he hadn’t achieved this on his own; Sakura deserved the credit. And it was the first time that Sasuke could admit that he needed someone else’s help in his goal.

The dark walls of Sunagakure cut the bright morning horizon in half and Sasuke’s gut twisted in a combination of emptiness and guilt at the thought of returning to Sunagakure to face his friend after their… kiss. Sasuke was torn between finding her immediately to tell her that their plan had worked, pretending the kiss never happened in typical Uchiha fashion. But the time he had stolen away from her “to think” brought him to only one conclusion: he needed to apologize—again—and at least explain why. He had made her a promise to be a partner that depended on each other, and here Sakura was continuing to keep that promise, while Sasuke stole moments of happiness and bailed when he had to face the consequences. Suddenly remembering their sunset conversation the last time he had returned after leaving, Sasuke felt a fresh stab to his consciousness as he recalled her statement: “a part of partnership is communication.”

Sasuke slowly made his way toward the village gates. When he passed through the canyon-like entrance, people greeted him with “good mornings” while others stared openly at him. Their gazes were a little different, warmer, and Sasuke wondered if his teammate’s influence in the hospital had something to do with his newreception in Sunagakure now.

Feeling even more ashamed, Sasuke resolved himself for his female companion’s wrath and made a straight line for the hospital.

When he entered the hospital’s double doors, Sasuke came upon a scene that made his stomach drop into his feet. Kankuro, who was haggard from exhaustion, and had apparently returned sometime in the night, was fisting the collar of a hospital staff member.

“What do you mean they’re not here?” he bristled. “If she’s not in her rooms, then she should be here. Where’s Mako? Where’s the kid?”

“I don’t know sir,” came the panicked response from the employee, terrified to be facing the Kazekage’s right-hand man. “I’m sure they’re in the village somewhere.”

Hearing those words had Sasuke acting before thinking and the Uchiha rushed forward to fist the shirt of the same medic. “Are you talking about Sakura?” His eyes darted between the both of them and Kankuro’s grip released from the startled staff’s shirt in the same moment he shoved Sasuke’s own hand away.

“Where the hell have you been?” Kankuro accused icily, and a fire Sasuke didn’t even know he had left in him, surged from his throat in anger.

“What the hell is happening?” he demanded, taking another step toward the puppet wielder.

Kankuro pinched his nose in frustration, then beheld him in shock. “You mean Sakura isn’t with you?”

Sasuke eyes widened in immediate response, an answer refusing to form on his lips. Instead, he shouted, “You don’t know where she is?!”

Kankuro frowned deeper at his sudden animosity. “She hasn’t been seen since yesterday morning,” he explained quickly. “The innkeeper said she never came back to the inn. Mako, another medic, and Sakura’s young patient are missing too.”

Sasuke didn’t wait for any further explanation before he began sprinting up the stairs to the second floor of the hospital, the filter for his behavior now completely removed. Let everyone think what they want! That bastard! When Sasuke got ahold of Mako, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Sasuke’s feet were unusually heavy and his breath labored as he continued climbing to the third floor toward the medicine preparation room they had occupied together only recently.

“Sakura?!” He kicked open the door and furiously searched the vacant room with his eyes. After seeing no one, Sasuke stared at the empty couch where they had sat so close to one another the night before last. As if his memory of her there could recall her, Sasuke gazed openly at it, breathing hard.

Having followed the Uchiha, Kankuro appeared in the door behind him. “We’ve already checked the hospital. She isn’t here. We need to check the rest of the village, quickly!”

She couldn’t be missing. Was she really with that assistant of hers or that child? Were they off somewhere else doing something medical, or were they truly missing? Shit. Shit. Shit.

He turned on Kankuro in his unnerved rage. Sasuke wanted to demand where they had been, he and the Kazekage, but Sasuke remembered that Sakura had told him that they were investigating trouble near the border. He cursed himself again for being selfish and leaving her here alone.

As if reading his thoughts, Kankuro explained, “I was sent back by the Kazekage in the night. He is handling a situation regarding the ninja Sakura said ambushed you both in Tanigakure. The incidents were apparently related.”

“What do you mean?” Sasuke suddenly asked, a deep and cutting sensation coming over Sasuke that he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time: fear.

Kankuro looked down and away from him, debating on how much to reveal. “With some unmentionable methods, we were finally able to find out who their target was,” he finally informed with a sigh. His eyes rose to meet Sasuke’s and the Uchiha saw the same raw fear mirrored in Kankuro’s eyes. “It’s Sakura.”

At the very moment that Sasuke’s knees felt like collapsing beneath his weight, the same staff member that the two ninja had threatened seconds before, came running into the room, panting heavily from having hiked the floors.

“Come quickly,” he urged between breaths, turning immediately to run back down the steps. “Isao has returned.”

Kankuro made eye contact with the Uchiha before they both bolted back down the stairs, taking two and three steps at time. Sasuke cursed his lack of chakra that kept him from just teleporting downstairs.

Sitting in a chair, the child clutched his side. Sasuke noticed that he kept trying to rise, but the staff held him down as they tried to bandage a wound on his arm. Deep purple finger marks circled around the child’s neck like a collar.

“Not me! Her! Go find her, please!” he shouted as he struggled against them.

“Calm down boy,” a woman medic urged. “We have to staunch the flow of blood from your arm.” The child looked at his wound as if he didn’t even know it had been there.

When Isao caught sight of Sasuke and Kankuro, he started to cry. “HELP! Please help!” he shouted, and they quickly moved to hover over the child. Kankuro suddenly kneeled before him, taking the gauze from the medic and wrapped the child’s arm himself as he questioned.

“Speak kid,” Kankuro urged, “What is going on?”

“Miss Haruno,” he choked between tears. “She’s still out there! Please, we have to go!”

Before Kankuro could ask the child why, Sasuke did something appalling, an act that Sakura would be disappointed in him for. His sharingan flashed bright, soaking up the last of his chakra like a sponge, and he caught the panicked child’s stare in his own crimson and purple one.

Just as he had to Isao’s father, Sasuke stepped into the child’s memories. Isao’s recollections were almost too overwhelming for Sasuke to handle at the moment, each image dripping with the fear in which young ones saw the ninja world. There was also bravery in them and familial concern for the pink-haired kunoichi. Sasuke skipped through the memories like speeding up a film, an act that made his head throb in pain. He didn’t care about his own state at the moment though, seeking the green-eyed face of the woman he had come to love.

There. Isao’s most recent memory Sakura was of her telling him “to go get help.” Sasuke didn’t have time to go back further and he let the memories play out from that point, mapping the child’s nighttime desert sprint, hours long, from the empty desert back to the gates of the village.

Not needing to explore the child’s mind further, he released Isao and they both gasped. Sasuke clutched his eye, ignoring the angry glare on Kankuro’s face. He didn’t care about Kankuro’s morals or even the child’s shocked state at that moment. There was only one thing he cared about. He would let the child explain the details to Kankuro; Sasuke didn’t have the time to explain things to Kankuro. Instead, the Uchiha did the unthinkable, playing the very dangerous game of popping another chakra pill into his mouth as he sprinted out the hospital doors.

#approaching sun #approachingsun #sasusaku #Happy Valentine's Day #Sakura Haruno #sasuke and sakura #ssfanfiction #sasusakufanfiction #Sasuke Uchiha #sasukeshinden #sasuke shinden #sakura hiden #naruto fanfiction #narutolightnovels

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ccelinewritess · 5 years ago

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say love—draco malfoy

pairing - (hufflepuff! reader) draco malfoy x reader, cedric diggory x reader

word count- 4.3k

warnings- cheating? toxic relationships? curse words? my lack of diverse grammar? spelling? not heavily revised? yes this has it allll.

quick note: cho, the reader, and draco are all in the fifth year, cedric is two years older (cause idfc what villain i make this boy out to be he is not dead) anyways ilu and hope you are well. here we go.

y/n was sweet, kind, compassionate, gorgeous and smart, so when she caught the eye of cedric diggory a year earlier he made it his personal mission to get her to go out with him, even on one date.

when she finally caved in they went on one date. then a second, a second turned into a third. he asked her out officially, she met his parents, you know how the story goes. well perhaps not, and there was no happily ever after with cedric. certainly not as hot tears ran down her cheeks as she watched her boyfriend of a year, hand caressing her face, kissing cho chang like a moth to a flame, hungry for more. prefects duties my ass- she thought as her pure devastation dragged her away from the scene, her original presence going unnoticed. anger was boiling through her blood and she lost track of where she was going, until she ended up in the library somehow. y/n loved reading and spent countless hours in the room, and she certainly didn’t want to be in the common room when her not-so-loyal boyfriend would be returning shortly enough. so instead she shrunk down, back against a bookcase, knees tucked into arms, and let the sadness and confusion take over. she didn’t even hear the library doors open once again over her sobs.

the last thing draco malfoy expected to see that night in the library while grabbing a book was the friendly hufflepuff girl y/n. and especially not with tear stained cheeks and glossy eyes. draco would never tell her, but he was always captivated by her, she was to kind and trusting for her own good.

“er- im sorry for uh- interrupting” his voice startled her at first.

“no im sorry” she said wiping her tears. “i should be in my common room, not crying like a child in the library.”

when he sat down next to her it was nice, he wasn’t too close but the company was enjoyable, even if it was temporary. “well I know we aren’t friends, like at all, but if you’d like to talk about whatever is making you cry in the library at one in the morning, im not a bad listener”

she wasn’t even considering talking to draco. not in the slightest, but she didn’t have anyone else to talk to. she couldn’t talk to her parents, they would fly out to hogwarts and personally hex the boy. and she had spent so much time hanging out with cedric that she didn’t have any other close friends she could talk to. maybe talking to a stranger would be best. draco found it quite cute that she hadn’t noticed she had zoned out, but before he got to admire her more she looked back up at him “fine”

“you need to understand that i am still confused, completely.” that’s how it started. she told him about how cedric lied about where he was, and how she went to surprise him, and how when she turned the corner she saw him and cho, practically swallowing eachothers faces. at some point in her story draco opened his arms and she fell into them, tears still sliding down from her eyes. she did find this odd at first, of all the reputations draco held, hugger was not one.

by the times she cried all the tears she could, draco walked her back to the common room. as he pulled her back into another hug he whispered in her ear “meet me in the courtyard before breakfast?” she could only muffle a response into his sweater. as they released themselves from eachother a minute later, she watched him walk away down further into the dungeon. it took her mere seconds to fall asleep that night.

when she saw the blonde boy the next morning alone in the almost empty courtyard, she made her way over to him, as fast as her legs could carry her without running. he looked happy to see her, but she didn’t wait to get to the point.

“about last night, you haven’t told anyone yet have you? it’s just that id like to hear what happened from cedric before people find out.”

“ofcourse not love. im a slytherin, not an asshole. speaking of cedric you need to break up with him.” he was hesitant with both the nickname and the proposition, considering that before last night they had practically never spoken.

it was now her turn to be hesitant. “but what if she kissed him though, you know, maybe it’s all a big misunderstanding” y/n was always looking for the best in people, but maybe cheating was cedrics best, she hated to think it.

“y/n! you saw him kiss her back didn’t you? there was no denial from cedrics side right? i know you look for the positives but sometimes it’s not a shame to realize not everyone’s perfect. and you deserve someone who values you” it was harsh in a way, but true. he continued to encourage her until she realized if she didn’t now, cedric would continue to go on these midnight strolls, faking prefect duties and kissing other girls.

when she entered the great hall she immediately stormed over to cedric, who was in deep conversation with his friends. when she butted in to ask if she could speak to him the emotions of the night before threatened to arise within her again. dracos words floated in her head. maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, even the hogwarts “it” boy had flaws. he was insecure which led to jealousy, he could sometimes be insensitive, and the newest to the collection, he was a cheater. and he sure as hell wasnt going to admit to it if she asked.

once he finally acknowledged her presence with a smile she began.

“cedric, may i speak to you, alone” she glanced at his friends at the last word.

“just say it aloud, im sure the boys don’t mind” he really didn’t know what was coming.

“im not sure you want me to talk about this with your friend around”

“come on darling”

well here goes nothing.

“if you say so. we’re over. don’t try to defend yourself and act all innocent cause I know a lot more than you think. just a tip in the future if you want to have a successful relationship do not go make out with other girls in the middle of the night in random corridors, or at least breakup with your girlfriend first. asshole” y/n was sweating and cedric was pale and speechless.

y/n’s rant had gathered many eyes from across the room. as she walked back towards draco who was waiting at the end of the aisle he couldn’t help but smile and whisper “you are a baddass, come eat at slytherin, then?” when they got across the room, people were confused but no one would ever say no to draco or his friends. blaise zabani seem unbothered at her presence but kind nonetheless, pansy on the other hand, jealous that dracos eyes were for once not on her.

over the next few weeks a friendship began to grow between y/n l/n and draco malfoy. they were sitting together in classes, studying together, eating meals at eachothers tables and all around enjoying eachothers company. little did y/n know that as the seasons changed, so did dracos feelings for her. she was so undeniably amazing in every way imaginable, something draco had never came across in his life.

on this particular evening they were walking around the black lake on the cool evening with the pink and orange sky on the horizon. deep conversations were common between the pair and tonight was no exception. “do you still love him?” the question shocked her at first, and she thought deeply about her answer before responding. “i don’t know honestly, a part of me probably still does. and it’s not like I’ve never had things not work before, but how people leave always stays. i hate to say it, but a part of me wants revenge. i just want him to feel some sort of pain, even just jealousy as dark and twisted as that is.” a comfortable silence fell once again before he broke it after a few minutes. “it’s not as dark as you might think, actually. and if you want him to feel jealous i have an idea that could benefit us both you just need to be open minded.”

draco malfoy wanted her to do what?

“what does fake dating even mean? how do you even do that” she questioned

“i mean just convince people we are dating, cedric will be jealous and it will get pansy of my back for two minutes. all you’d have to do is hold my hand, wear my scarf, come to my quidditch games and parties with me, anything else” he asked

“we could probably go to hogsmeade togther, cedric will be fuming, thank you draco” she said before kissing his cheek making his face go a brilliant red.

yet again draco had her doing things she wouldn’t do in a thousand years, but maybe she needed a change. plus he seemed to have this quite planned out and there was no harm in trying. “if you really think this could work, then fine, I’ll do it.”

draco would never admit it, but he was embarrassingly excited that she agreed.

the next morning their hopefully “master” plan would begin, but that night for the first time in a long time, draco couldn’t sleep whatsoever. he tried counting sheep, drinking tea, every sleeping position and yet he couldn’t get y/n out of his mind. she was so pretty, and smart, and kind. he had trouble even imagining what kind of delusional cedric was to let her go. if she was his- and not fake his, he would do everything to keep her happy and never see her like he did in the library only three weeks ago. in the end, she was just a rose in the hands who had no intention of keeping her. after even more attempts, he finally drifted off into a deep, and dreamless sleep.

once y/n finally got enough motivation to roll her self out of bed for the last day of classes before the weekend the conversation from the night before entered her brain. was this going to work? everything that could possibly go wrong played over and over again. what if cedric never got jealous? would they be forty and still fake dating? she thankfully got out of her head when she saw draco waiting for her outside the hufflepuff common room. “well good morning love” he said before placing a ginger kiss to her forehead, no one was around to watch, and she didn’t recall that being in the verbal agreement, but to be completely honest, it was nice.

they were both nervous and for different reasons. draco knew better than anyone that if word of this so called relationship to his parents, they would flip. everyone knew the malfoy’s had very strong morals and were extremely racist, and no matter how much he liked her, they would never approve of the halfblood hufflepuff. y/n knew pansy would be up her ass, and there was no guarantee that this would work, she also wasn’t huge on attention, and this was not exactly going to make her any less of a subject around the hogwarts grounds.

speaking of hogwarts, was the walk from hufflepuff to the great hall that long? was her hand sweating or was she imagining it? dracos long fingers were intertwined with hers and they talked about everything and nothing as they made there way to breakfast.

once they arrived, few heads turned, as many were still engaged in conversation, much to the satisfaction of y/n. dracos green eyes immediately made harsh contact with cedrics grey eyes and they made their way to the slytherin table, where pansy’ dirty glares would go unnoticed y/n.

the day trudged along slowly. in the classes with draco they sat together, he picked her up from the rest, walking her to her next. eating lunch and dinner at his table, showing pda at any given time, even when cedric wasn’t anywhere around.

when y/n were dismissed from herbology at the end of the day she wasted no time getting back the hufflepuff common room starting on her potions essay. in a wave of exhilaration the puffs already in the common room rushed out, she was confused but followed them out anyways, unopened books in arms.

y/n wasn’t tall, so she struggled to see passed the crowd. finally reaching the inner layer of the circle she saw what was likely destined to happen. cedric was buffing out his chest, trying to close in on draco, despite them not being far in height whatsoever. the boys muttering to eachother went unheard after the shrill voice of professor sprout broke out. “what do you boys think your doing, everyone return to your common rooms” she said before going into a small lecture with the boys more quietly. people filed out of the corridor behind her in every direction. and once the raft of sprout had finished, and cedric had stormed off to god knows where, draco engulfed the girl in a warm hug, almost knocking them over.

that night she did her homework in the slyerthin common room, on the lap of her boyfriend, fake boyfriend- she reminded herself, it was only the first day but it was so easy to be with him.

“he’s lucky sprout showed up, he kept acting as though he was superior to me, the dumbass couldn’t beat me in a duel in a million years, I’ll show him in the quidditch match tomorrow”

“is that tomorrow already?” she sighed before continuing “well I’ll be cheering for you, draco”

“id hope, love, also how do you feel about wearing green?”

the green scarf actually complimented her features nicely, much to her surprise. the match started in seven minutes, and if y/n wanted to make it on time she had to leave now.

the last few weeks were cold, yes, but this was the first snowfall of the year, fluffy snow was settling on the ground and castle, like a beautiful painting. the con? the snow was also making it difficult to see, almost guaranteeing a long match. right as she sat down next to some fellow fifth years the whistle blew. dracos green scarve made her stand out in the land of bagders, recieving some questioning.

“your dating him? but he’s a slytherin?”

“and an smart, handsome, kind one at that, so I’m going to get back to the game, if that’s okay with you.”

the game was the most eventful of the year due to the multiple dirty fakeouts between the seekers. this was less a slytherin vs hufflepuff thing to y/n and more of a draco vs cedric. ofcourse she loved her house, but there was no way she wanted cedric to win now, after the cheating and lying. that thought was mutual but unshared between her and draco. and the cold wasn’t making anyone want to stay out there for much longer, despite the excitement. while cedric was trying to trick draco once more draco saw the real snitch, where cedric was only moments before. rushing towards it, arm reached out, he could almost grab it. almost. almost. almost. yes. the small snitch was clutched tightly in his palm, cedric still clueless, zooming around, not noticing his attempts had failed him miserably.

ravenclaws and slyertherins alike were running onto the field, y/n somewhere amongst them. in no time draco was being held in the air, with those around him chanting. normally she would have been pissed that hufflepuff had lost, but the smile plastered on dracos face made it all worth it. after nemurous minutes he was put down, made his way to y/n and kissed her. he actually kissed her. in front of all those people. the chants were replaced with whistles and if anyone didn’t get the message of their “relationship” it was surely out now. his kiss was sweet and soft, and ended much before she was ready to. “honey you look dashing in green”

the party in slyerthin that night was like nothing she had ever been to before. music was blasting, house elves had made food and drinks of all sorts and y/n was cuddled into the arms of draco on the sofa, in his jumper and joggers. occasionally people would come congratulate him, and even pansy had the audacity to come try to flirt with him, that was until he shooed her off.

as the festivities continued into the night, y/n fell asleep right there, in her fake boyfriends arms- who, she would never admit, she was catching feelings for. she didn’t know much, but she did know that she was not ready to get hurt again anytime soon. they had spent the last hours together talking about random deep topics, their biggest fears and insecurities as those around them danced to the rhythm of the music. draco struggled to even think someone as perfect as y/n would have insecurities, but she did. eventually he picked her up bridal style and carried to his dormitory. he couldn’t exactly settle easy, the girl he liked was sleeping in his bed, so once he confirmed that she was infact asleep he let it off his chest.

“in case you didn’t know- im crazy about you, since i found you in the library that night.” he was whispering as soft as he could

“i haven’t told you any of this because i know your still healing but god im in love with you”

he too fell asleep that night, limbs tangled with hers.

the sun hit her face from his window that morning, bright as ever, highlighting her beautiful features and draco couldn’t help but admire her beauty. for numerous minutes he laid there, staring until she woke from her own dreams.

cedrics next attemp at payback for draco was just as low as the first. he followed draco towards the dungeons one afternoon when y/n wasn’t in his presenceand tried to fight him right there, outside the slyerthin common room.

“draco what do you even want with her?” he was practically grumbling

“you really don’t know what you had? did you? also she’s my girlfriend now, so what do you want with her?” draco spat back, emphasizing the you.

unlucky for cedric, right after he threw the first punch, which draco dodged successfully, snape came out and gave cedric two weeks detention.

“whatever, ill get her back” cedric said fast before heading towards the hufflepuff common room. draco wasn’t too sure of that, he had fallen desperately for the girl and would do whatever he could to keep her, and keep her away from cedric.

they were on there daily evening stroll around the grounds, much like the one that the original idea was pitched during only a handful of weeks ago, fingers intertwined. partially because it is cold, partially because they wanted to. draco could tell that y/n was deep in thought and originally wasn’t going to ask her, but he couldn’t help himself.

“what are you thinking about?” he said quietly but loud enough for her to hear

“im feeling kind of stupid honestly. i mean it was all there, the prefect patrols on days i could have sworn weren’t his. the glances across the hall to her, god even the tutoring in the classes he was doing amazing and needed no help in.”

he could tell this was making her upset and so he racked his brain for the right thing to say, but before he could find anything she started again.

“I’m also quite mad at myself, i mean i know all relationships are flawed but looking back ours was pretty fucked up. i started dating him in our third year, and i was still very insecure and didn’t exactly love myself. i spent a lot of time worrying about things I had no control over, and he wasn’t a help in the slightest. he’d flirt with other girls all the time but one boy would look at me for a second longer than he’d liked and he’d be confronting them. I don’t know if I really loved him, or if i was just in pain but whatever it was it was horrible.” tears were threatening her eyes but not yet approaching them.

“im sorry y/n. you are amazing and beautiful, smart and kind and your sure as hell don’t deserve that, if you want to talk about it ever please ask me” he would add on to that, if they were dating- and for real he wouldn’t treat her any less than the princess he considered her to be. he pulled her into a big hug before they walked back up into the beautiful castle.

they hadn’t heard from cedric in weeks, mission accomplished right? well no.

being completely honest, y/n didn’t know how much longer she would be able to participate without feelings boiling over. y/n didn’t even know where it came from, and there was no denying it, she was head over heels for the slytherin prince. she didn’t know when, maybe at the quidditch game? when he gave hugged her after sprout gave cedric punishment after draco stood up for her? she too wasn’t sure.

the morning of the hogsmeade trip, snow was falling once again, replacing the already existing layer on the ground. leaving hufflepuff, she couldn’t help but smile when she saw the blonde haired boy by the barrels waiting for her.

walking arm-in-arm to the small village, y/ns teeth almost chattering when draco lended his green scarf to the girl yet again.

“when i said you looked good in green at the match, i wasn’t joking, you should wear it more often”

draco loved the way she looked with her pink tinted nose and cheeks. and before he knew it they were in the three broomsticks drinking butterbeer, talking about god knows what.

that was until draco decided to come clean about his feelings.

“y/n youre probably not ready to hear this, and i will wait as long as you need me to. but i just can’t take it anymore. ive been crazy about you since we started being friends and- whatever this is, three and a half months ago. and if you’d like id love to go out with you- and not as a jealousy scheme”

the cold was no longer able to mask the blush on her cheeks and she told him everything she’d been hiding. thankfully. if she hadn’t he would have lost the best thing in his life. she knew his family wasn’t exactly the lovey dovey type, and his friends could be cold, they had eachother and they didn’t need much more than that.

once they had finished and left the warmth of the building, into the snow in the middle of the street he dragged her towards him ever so lightly using his scarf. cupping her cheeks in his hands, he kissed her as soft as ever. lasting much longer this time, there mouthes seemed to move in sync. he tasted sweet, just like the first time, and undescribable. they would kissed there in the middle of hogsmeade village for hours if their lungs didn’t need so much air. so instead they stood there forheads pressed together. eventually there hands found the others and they made their way back to the school, hearts and smiles as big as ever.

draco saw her room for the first time that day, he had been in the hufflepuff common room twice, but never to her room. it was much brighter and got more sunlight. y/n had shelves full of books and many plants around the room. the wall around the window was lined with poloroids of her and her friends. he sat on her bed and wasted no time pulling her onto it with him. they fell asleep that night wrapped in eachothers arms, kissing the others face once in a while, complete with the fact that they had eachother, and for real.

the next morning they woke up at 10, thankfully they didn’t have classes, but they had still missed breakfast. fortunately y/n was not only friends with the house elves, but extraordinarily good cook. she was currently making pancakes, in dracos green jumper, his chin on her shoulder and hands on her hips.

“I cannot believe almost four months ago i started fake dating you and now your cooking breakfast in my sweater” he said practically mumbling into her cheek before kissing it, and dragging her away from the stove, to dance. right there in the middle of the kitchen, and he was suprisingly amazing at it.

the engines of the hogwarts express were rumbling and y/n had settled into the compartment with draco. she had owled her parents informing her she would be going to the malfoy manor for the first weeks of summer, and the nerves were filling her mind.

“what’s wrong darling” he said kindly as she leaned into his shoulder.

“im just nervous, what if they don’t like me?”

“they will, there is nothing about you that isn’t likeable. and even if they don’t like you immediately, it’s not like i could stop loving you, ever”

what? theyd never actually said the “L” word to the other- at least while they were awake. yes they had been dating for six months already but had draco ever said he loved them to anyone? it didn’t matter, she knew how she felt.

“y-you love me?”

he waited another second. “i mean, uh- er, i-i-“

“draco?” he hummed in response, still clearly embarrassed “i love you too”

————

a/n: ive never written anything, so i hope it’s okay. thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! stay tuned for future writing.

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy fluff

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ficforce · 4 years ago

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Circles and Crosses and Buns

Benimaru’s Daughter SFW

“Papa! Papa, papa, papa!” There was an insistent tugging on his pant leg and Benimaru looked skyward before turning around to give his daughter the attention she so obviously needed, “What? What, what, what?” He could see that she was waving a ribbon at him and her hair was a tangled mess with the comb still caught in it, “…You couldn’t have waited? You couldn’t have sat nice and quiet until someone could help, could you?” She grinned up at him, “Course not, if you had then this wouldn’t have happened and I wouldn’t have to fix it.” Benimaru headed over to the rec room of the Guardhouse and sat down, she was in his lap seconds after and he began the challenge of first getting the comb out of her hair, “Did you get mad?” “Little bit…” she wriggled guiltily. His daughter was three now and her ability was getting a little stronger, it was difficult getting such a young child to get a handle on her powers but she was smart. Benimaru and Y/N had taught her not to set people’s clothing on fire for no reason but her tantrums could get out of hand, then she would panic and the fires would get bigger. Before she had come to him with her hair in such a state he had smelt smoke but he also knew that the fire had been put out - the little girl wanted to do things like dress herself and brush her hair even if it frustrated her at times, “Little bit?”

“Sorry, Papa…” she tilted her head all the way back until their eyes met and her father gave a sigh before murmuring for her to be more careful. There wasn’t much he could do about it now but she knew it had been misuse and that would do for now.

Benimaru carefully got rid of each tangle, years of practice from helping the twins with their hair had made him pretty good at it, with only a few threats to shave it all off and almost tears when he had to pull a little, he got her hair combed, “What do you want me to do with it? Bunches? Braids? A bun?” She had brought him a pretty ribbon so he could only assume she wanted it up. The little girl’s feet kicked in front of her as she tried to decide, “Something super pretty! Like Mama!” “…Her hair’s always pretty, you gotta give me more than that.” The Captain began pulling it up into a high ponytail, only stopping when she began to whine, “Oi, if you’re a brat I’ll just shave it off so you’re bald.” Within seconds he regretted it as she began to cry - she had never been one to cry for no real reason, even as a baby she was relatively good. The loud wailing seemed to summon Konro as he came out of the room used as an office, the little girl ran over to the man and raised her arms with grabby hands. Konro picked up and bounced her a little on his hip, shushing her quietly until she was able to stop just enough to give him a hard understandable sentence. “Papa’s not going to shave your head; I won’t let him.” “She’s getting all precious about her hair today,” Benimaru groused and tossed the comb down, “It’s a real pain.” “Shinra’s coming today, remember?” His eyes widened a little and he looked at his daughter a little closer - she was wearing her favourite clothes and when he looked to the side he realised that it was her favourite hair ribbon too. She really liked Shinra and still talked about how he rescued her from the year before. “I told you before, you’re not allowed to marry that moron.” “Whhhy?!!” Her little squeal was high enough that Konro winced. “You’re three for a start. That’s a hundred years too early!” “Papa’s jealous,” the Lieutenant gave her chin a little tap so that she would look at him, her iris’ were flickering from circles to crosses and he waited until they settled to circles before speaking to her, “You wanna look nice for Shinra?” she gave an eager nod, “Then you need to be a proper Asakusian girl and make some decisions. That starts with how you want your hair.” “Like big sisters!” “A damn bun. That’s what I said in the-” “Waka.” Konro’s tone was a little harder than usual, how were they supposed to teach her to control her tantrums when he was as much as a hothead, “You can do a bun, right?” “Yeah, yeah… come on, brat.” — - It was actually a visit from half of Company 8 that day, Obi stepped aside as he saw the tiny girl lock onto Shinra and run at him, the young man caught her midair and began nodding as she told him everything she had done that week at a speed too fast. The Captain had learned not to get between Benimaru’s daughter and Shinra. Arthur tried to get some of her attention but she simply wasn’t having it, Vulcan did gain her favour by way of his red hair and his t-shirt having a bear paw on it. They’d come for an update on the Evangelist situation, it was only fair that they made the trip sometimes, Obi had only brought the others because they had ganged up on him. Vulcan had to drive him and he had said he always wanted to visit Asakusa, Arthur only came because Shinra wanted to come and Shinra never missed a chance to visit. He hadn’t expected to be babysitting though. Shinra loved children, he was just a little wary of Benimaru’s jealousy when his daughter wanted to play with Shinra only. He had brought her to the river on her request, there was a small market there and immediately the little girl had run to a stall selling Temari, the brightly coloured balls captured her attention and the owner was quick to recognise her, “Beni’s little girl is back again? You bored with the other ones?” “Nu-uh!” She grinned and took the bright orange ball offered, “Me and Papa play allll the time!” Tossing it up the man caught it and she let out a cheer. Shinra picked one up and turned it over and over, the handmade toys were amazing and he wondered if he should get

one too… to throw at Arthur… as hard as he could. He watched as the stall owner held out a crimson Temari that had white circles and crosses all over it, he pet her hair a little and she bounced up and down excitedly when she was told it was a gift. When she was done with talking at the man she pulled Shinra toward a food stall and he blushed brightly when she told the two women there that he was her husband. He had told her plenty of times that he was too old, he even tried to tell her that heroes didn’t have relationships because it was dangerous - she looked him in the eye and told him that he’d have to be a hero for that to count. She could be savage at times. Eventually, they came across her Mother and Y/N crouched down to ruffle her hair, this was met with a huge frown that made Y/N giggle; her daughter and Benimaru had the same grumpy face. “Papa did my hair special!” “Hmm?” Y/N checked out the bun and agreed it was excellently done, a little tight maybe. The ribbon had a perfect little bow too, Benimaru must have worked hard to get it looking so good, “It’s way better than I’ve ever done it. Did you ask for it to be nice because Shinra’s here?” She gave a nod and a bright grin, “Are you two on a date?” “Yup!!” “Y/N… please don’t encourage her,” Shinra’s nervous grin showed more of his teeth and the three-year-old pointed out his shark teeth with a giggle. The woman adjusted her daughter’s clothing a little and kissed her cheek, “Don’t forget to thank Papa when you get home, he did a really good job on your hair.” She imagined that Benimaru sulked the entire time he was doing the child’s hair, no doubt a little jealous that it was for Shinra’s benefit… still, he’d done a good job because she knew it would make his daughter happy. Shinra made sure to make a fuss of her hair too, he hadn’t really noticed and he felt bad that she’d gone to the effort - also fearful because that meant the Captain of the 7th was already irritated with him. They returned around dinnertime and he put her down after helping her take her shoes off, she had complained that her feet hurt and he had to carry her, like a princess. The first thing she did was to run to the others who were sitting down for a drink before the 8th would get going, she held the new Temari up to Benimaru’s face, an inch operating him and the object so he had to lean away to see what it was. “…Shinra get you that?” He didn’t want to play with it if that was the case. “Temari man gave it to me!” “You say thanks?” she nodded, “Good girl… we’ll play later, okay?” Another nod and she left the Temari with him before running back to glue herself to Shinra’s leg. This was Vulcan’s first time seeing the cute display and he couldn’t help but tease, “Is this your girlfriend, Shinra?” “Shinra my husband.” The young man gave a defeated sigh, he wasn’t going to get away from the title any time soon so he just gave a half shrug. Benimaru glared at him over the rim of his cup, “Over his dead body.” “Don’t you mean over yours?” Y/N nudged him gently from the side. “I meant what I said.”

#AU #Hotaru #shinmon benimaru #fire force #OCs

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scxrsgxrd · 5 years ago

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Car Troubles // Axel Cluney

18+, just general Axel filth.

This has definitely been talked about before but it has been on my mind allll day. Axel and the infamous car bonnet.

Maybe it starts because your dad’s car is having trouble, so he sends it into the town’s renowned mechanic: Axel Cluney. Axel of course finds the source of the problem and fixes it, but on the day of the pickup your dad can’t make it, so the responsibility falls to you. This would be highly inconvenient if the mechanic wasn’t Axel. See, there was a unique air about him; he was cocky, but not overwhelmingly. In fact it was his arrogance that in part made him so attractive, and you despised him for it.

Axel knew you had been staring at him, so he was extra sure to make a spectacle of himself. Just as you were wandering into the garage he was in the process of moving his steel toolbox from his work bench to the floor beside whatever car he was working on today. You stood at the entrance to the garage, a lump forming in your throat as you could see the muscles in his biceps and shoulders flex as he let out a small grunt, a spanner clanging onto the floor as his grip faltered for a second.

“Let me help.” You had no idea where this sudden surge of confidence had come from, but you were committed to it now. Bending over in a skirt perhaps wasn’t the smartest idea, as you were sure you saw Axel’s head crane around to your backside as you retrieved the rusting spanner and handed it to him. His hand lingered over yours for a few seconds as he took hold of it, his eyes glaring into yours as he cocked his left eyebrow.

You weren’t *quite* sure what had happened, but you were now currently seated on the bonnet of your father’s Toyota Corolla with your skirt hitched up as far as was possible with Axel stood between your legs, his thumb massaging circles over your panties as he whispered nothing short of filth in your ear.

“Are you a daddy’s girl, huh? Yeah, I bet you are.” His teeth grazed over your earlobe as his thumb applied more pressure to your clit, making you whine.

“Mmmm, that’s right. Make your pretty little noises for me.”

Axel loved teasing. For him it was an artform, working a girl up until she was seconds away from orgasm with just his fingertip. Today was no different as his middle finger ran its way over your still-clothed slit, chuckling as he felt the prominent wet patch beneath his oil stained fingers.

“Axel, please.” You squeaked, already growing restless from the lack of skin on skin contact that he was starving you of.

“Ain’t you ever heard of the phrase, now, what is it?” He feigned deep thought as his lips attached to your neck, sucking at the spot just below your ear which only made your whines increase in frequency.

“Oh, yeah. Good things come to those who wait.” He mumbled against your skin, biting at your shoulder as his other hand reached up and grabbed your right breast over your t shirt.

“Axel.” You hissed as his middle finger placed even more pressure over your entrance, the material barrier of your underwear just about stopping him from entering you.

“God, you’re fucking soaked.”

He couldn’t wait any longer. He moved his hand to the side of your cotton panties and gave them a hard tug, the tearing sound echoing around you as they hung limply in his hand. You watched as he gave you a quick wink and stuffed them into the back pocket of his jeans.

Now you were the impatient one. You leant forward and took hold of the silver chain dangling around Axel’s neck, tugging on it so he had no choice but to press himself against you. Once he was stood firmly between your legs you pulled on the chain again, this time angling your head upwards so his lips became attached to yours. Axel let out another growl, but this one was lower, more primal.

“Look at you. Getting that sweet pussy juice all over daddy’s car bonnet.” Axel smirked as your cheeks flushed, you’d completely forgotten which car you happened to be sat upon.

“Don’t worry, baby. I won’t tell.” He pressed his forefinger to his lips as he unzipped his jeans, shimmying them down to his ankles. His boxers were tightly constraining his cock, and you knew that however impressive his size seemed now, it’d be more so once he rid himself of them. Axel seemed to read your mind, and he pressed his middle finger against your entrance and allowed his fingertip to enter you.

“Hmmm, I sure am gonna enjoy stretching this tight little cunt out.”

With that, Axel pushed the waistband of his boxer shorts down, exposing himself to you. You felt your lips part slightly, not just because of his sheer size, but because of the Prince Albert piercing that immediately caught your attention. The metal glimmered under the harsh lighting of the garage, and your expression made him chuckle for a second.

He didn’t have time for an in depth explanation about the piercing lodged into his tip, his erection was getting more and more painful, throbbing against his stomach as he was beginning to leak a hefty amount of pre-cum.

Axel grabbed a hold of your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze as he pressed his cock against you.

“You’re gonna take it, and you’re gonna take it good.” He squeezed a little harder but placed a soft kiss on your forehead, his eyes remaining on yours as he began to edge himself inside you.

He gave you a few seconds to adjust, the feeling of the cold metal piercing scraping against your walls made you shudder, but Axel coaxed himself into you gently, softly praising you as he grinded his hips against yours. You felt your eyes roll slightly, the stretch was a little painful at first, but after a few minutes you felt a shiver run down your spine as your walls began to clench around him.

“Shit.” Axel muttered, one hand gripping onto your thigh to prise your legs further apart as he began to roll his hips, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he glanced down to watch you take his full size.

Your eyes were screwed shut, your mind not able to comprehend the sheer amount of ecstasy you were in as Axel began to hit the spot inside you that made your toes curl, so when he began to slow his pace you let out a small mewl, your eyelids fluttering open.

Axel’s fist bunched in your hair, yanking it until your head was tipped as far backwards as you could manage.

“Open.” He commanded, tapping underneath your chin with his other hand as you watched his cheeks hollow slightly and his lips curl upwards.

You obeyed, opening up your mouth and gazing up at him with doe-eyes. Axel lowered his head down, his lips inches away from yours as they parted slightly, his tongue pushing a hefty amount of saliva out of his mouth. You couldn’t help but let out a moan when you felt the warmth drip onto your own tongue, and you swallowed, catching the corner of your bottom lip between your teeth as you studied the tall, tattooed man who had been fucking you within an inch of your life. He tutted as he watched some of the excess liquid dribble down your chin, so he began to lick across it, collecting up the remainder of the saliva and quickening his thrusts once more.

You could feel your arousal began to escape you as Axel fucked you at an alarmingly fast pace, dripping onto the bonnet beneath you as he smirked and shook his head.

“Such a naughty little girl, huh? Coming here and getting your tight little pussy fucked right on daddy’s car.” His hand snaked up to your throat once more, gripping onto it as he felt your walls clench tighter, indicating to him that you were getting closer to your release.

“What’re you waiting for, honey? I want you to come all over my cock, and I want you to be loud about it.”

You couldn’t stave off your orgasm any longer. Axel’s words combined with his relentless pounding drew you to the edge, and you leaned your head back and released moan after moan, you were sure the whole block would be able to hear you as your orgasm gripped you. Your legs tightened around Axel’s waist and your vision became momentarily blurred, but you could tell that Axel wasn’t far off his own release.

His rhythm had become sloppier and his own eyes were now closed, his hands tightly gripping onto the flesh of your thighs as his jaw clenched. Seconds later he pulled himself out of you, and you felt the hot spurts of his cum land over your thighs and stomach as Axel let out a loud grunt.

After you had both had a few minutes to recover he handed you a cloth, gesturing to the drying spots of cum that had littered your lower half. You hopped off the car and cleaned yourself up, making sure to thoroughly wipe over the bonnet where you had been sat.

When you were about to climb into the car Axel took hold of your arm, pulling you towards him so you were pressed against his chest.

“If you ever run into more.. car troubles, well, you know where I am.”

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #axel cluney #axel cluney smut

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y0itsbri · 4 years ago

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hiii bri! ❣️ daily check in time! ❣️

i video called my best friend this morning and then i spent a good portion of the day just getting some university stuff and my chores donee! i met up with my friends to watch a soccer game and i was SO convinced we were gonna lose because our team’s literally lost the last six games 💀 but we won 3-0!! we were talking about how university soccer wasn’t like the world cup at allll because people actually spend most of the time playing instead of just like. rolling on the floor in pain. BUT THEN when we got to the last fifteen minutes, we got to see three players getting yellow carded and lots of ground rolling. so we got the full experience! 🤣

we grabbed dinner and TOTALLY missed our bus. and we were supposed to attend this mandatory meeting on zoom 😭 the sheer FEAR i felt when i was walking home with my friends in the dark and our advisor told us to turn our videos on and unmute ourselves??? 💀💀💀 i managed to get through it and now i FINALLY get to read the new cg chapter! i’m so exciteddddd, especially after seeing stas’s out of content spoilers lolll.

how was your day? 💓

twisha! daily check in time! 🍅🍑🌞🍃🐋🍆

i bet it was nice seeing your friend <33 cg posting day gave the soccer team the good luck they needed to win today 😌 i don't know if i've ever actually watched a soccer game that i wasn't in (...as a kid -- and for the record i was awful lmao), but that sounds about right 🤣🤣

omg that zoom situation seems like a nightmare hour but tbh the advisors have probably witnessed a lot worse :') i just finished cg and !!!!! ahhhh!!!!! this damn story never fails to break me. ALSO the cg playlist is officially at 113 songs! damn! (and i know and love all of them now)

i basically spent all day fucking up a lab and then trying to figure out how to unfuck it <3 swinging that incapability into capability... well i got a game plan now at least 😅 and i also called my mom for like two hours which was really cathartic 💛

not to sound like a broken record by talking about my backyard animals all the time but! today i saw mama deer and two little babies and then! out of the trees! four more babies!

i can't wait for a good night's rest and that ain't happening for a few more days. baby i am hanging on by a thread this week🧵 lmfao

#ask #dcit

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windandwater · 4 years ago

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so I started adderall and hoo boy. lemme tell you. what a wild feeling, in so many ways, but especially right now where I’m like “I’m not doing anything shouldn’t I be panicking” and my brain is like “no. you have a lot to do. but you’ve also been working really hard. so it’s okay to take a break for a few minutes” and I BELIEVE MYSELF??

WOW

anyway here’s some stuff under the cut about it because I can’t believe how well this is working out.

background: I’m hypoglycemic. one big reason I decided to do this was, I was having this issue where I get depressed if I don’t eat sugar. I was eating sugar to feel joy. I am at risk for diabetes but even if I wasn’t this is not...great. I’ve always had to watch my blood sugar and I’ve always been careful about what I eat but in recent years, the amount of actual dessert/candy I eat has gotten mildly out of control and my doctors have told me to watch my sugar and I just...wasn’t able to.

one of my coworkers who is also not-neurotypical and as such knows her shit, told me that this whole “sugar to feel joy” thing is an ADHD symptom. I knew I had ADHD (I’d been diagnosed in high school) but wasn’t being treated for it, but had never been told this was a symptom, and at that point I was like, you know what, fuck this, I can’t get my health under control on my own if I’m not being treated for my mental health as well. I’m talking to my psychiatrist about this.

so I did. enter adderall. and now I wanna talk about it because it’s been FASCINATING and I am all about brain medication when you need it. so here goes!

also I live-tweeted my first 24 hours on adderall because it was SO WILD and I’m so glad I did even though I have three (3) followers, more on that in a minute

(me: I can’t tell if it’s working, it’s supposed to kick in in 30 minutes but--wait I think my brain just went bOOP

coworker: is bOOP good?

me: it’s WEIRD)

the good

Y’ALL THE SUGAR THING WORKED IMMEDIATELY. oh my god I was stunned. absolutely stunned. I still absolutely have a sweet tooth and enjoy eating sweets but I can eat a normal amount, at normal times, and not because I need to feel something. it’s because I want to eat something sweet. I can’t believe in 24 hours I went from complete inability to control myself to just...not having to. brains!! who knew!!!

I focused on an entire conversation the entire time. the entire time. I was even very stressed because my blood sugar was low and I needed to eat, but I was able to put that aside because I knew I could deal with it when the conversation was over! WHAT THE HELL!

since then it hasn’t been that easy because conversations are, quite frankly, often very boring, especially for work. but it’s easier to focus when I need to, and not zone out halfway through or have to do something else in order to focus. or start stressing/thinking about other shit that doesn’t matter. I can listen to what people are saying!!! for an hour! it’s crazy!!!

I wasn’t tired all day! this is also part of the bad. you’ll see.

I feel more in control of my days now, and less like time is speeding by at a rate I don’t and can’t comprehend. I’ve gotten fairly good at planning out and prioritizing my time anyway, but now it’s like...better. and easier.

executive function is online, and as I alluded to, no more self-guilt-tripping if it takes me a minute to get to things. they’ll still get done! it’s okay! if I don’t do something right away I will still do the thing! I have years of experience parceling tasks into small pieces so I do them, but less so with not still getting on my own case about not doing them right away.

if I don’t have music or a podcast playing at all times, I can still focus on work. it’s still pretty nice, it’s just not absolutely necessary. this is throwing me off hardcore but it’s kind of nice to be able to be in silence occasionally.

I can still multitask but if I’m NOT multitasking I don’t feel like I’m going insane, and also, I don’t feel like my brain is hanging by a thread at all times that might break and cause everything to explode.

a tweet I made: “I was researching something and when I got frustrated I kept at it and didn't have to go take a break to do something equally frustrating and pinball back and forth between them until they both got done. I might have just been weaponized? “

it’s true. researching/looking stuff up is one of my skillsets and...I’ve been weaponized.

the bad

my appetite is allll fucked up. we’re adjusting the type of medication I’m on to try and mitigate this but wow it’s an appetite suppressant and wow that’s not okay when you’re hypoglycemic and have to keep your blood sugar up.

my sleep is also fucked up. anxiety keeps me from falling asleep and I’d gotten to a good place re: falling asleep at night. however I was also in a very bad place re: sleeping constantly (sleep apnea? quarantine depression? who knows!). but waking up constantly during the night ain’t the solution, chief. so we’re also adjusting to see if we can do something about that.

regarding that: the first night, I literally just did not get tired. it was very upsetting. if I hadn’t tweeted about it I would’ve had an out and out panic attack, but one of my friends talked me off the ledge, telling me she had the same experience when she first went on it. I was not warned and I wish I had been. I was still able to sleep (she wasn’t, when it happened to her) but hoo boy. no thank you.

pharmacies like to babysit you when you’re on controlled substances. ugh.

more shit to keep track of. ughhhhhhhhhhhh

unfortunately, I had a hard time finding mainstream resources for this stuff online. I’ve read a lot from tumblr and heard from other people’s experiences, but when I went looking for, say, information on adderall & sleep...a lot of it is related to addiction. I had a similar problem with ADHD & sleep: I wanted to know more about whether ADHD can make you really tired like I was, or whether it was just an insomnia type of thing, and there just wasn’t a lot out there. this isn’t really a problem with the drug, but like...it’s a pain when you really want to learn more about something, aren’t in a place to talk to your doctor yet, and are just left to the wind with the mainstream internet assuming you’re abusing a substance.

definitely also felt like I had to lay the groundwork with my doctor...I had been planning to talk to her about this for a while, so I mentioned my ADHD diagnosis early on so I could bring it up at some point and not just out of the blue ask her for meth. this stuff is hard.

(not making a statement of any kind of recreational drug use/addiction, just...I hate the US medical system. a lot. everybody loses.)

so that’s how it’s going! sorry for the long post, but I did want to document this somewhere besides twitter, and maybe some of y’all are interested.

oh also, my other favorite thing that happened is my doctor said to try to keep track of when I take the medication and it wears off, and I literally told her that that would also be a good marker of whether or not it’s doing its job, because in my natural state I literally cannot remember to do that, with anything, ever. and I did! I managed! WILD

anyway end the stigma. ♥️

#adventures in text posts #adhd blogging #mental health

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amydancepants-peralta · 5 years ago

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baby, I’ve got you on my mind

“Thank you for that update, McCla- I’m mean, McCarthur.”

Clearing her throat, Amy ducks her head down to focus on the paperwork in front of her, quietly praying that nobody has noticed her mistake. She knew the chances were slim, given that it was her third slip-up since her briefing had begun fifteen minutes ago, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that the concept of returning to work after three months of Pure Family Time was going to be way harder than she’d anticipated.

There had been a part of her that was so. eager. to return to work today, taking extra care to iron her uniform into perfectly symmetrical pleats and polishing her badge so that it shone with just enough pride. Rumours had been circulating around about somebody trying to make adjustments to her precision based filing system (and she wasn’t mad, she just wanted to talk to whomever they were), and as the weeks wore on and Jake returned to work, it became apparent that her FOMOW was no longer something that Amy could easily hide.

She has loved every single second of being a Mommy, right down to the sleepless nights and the cold mornings with her son sleeping snuggled warm against her, but there was no way that Amy could deny how much she missed the order of the NYPD. She had craved the regular flow of paperwork (some that even needed to be notarised); the meetings and seminars and conference calls and oh, how there were so many binders waiting to be filled.

In the past few weeks it had become habit once Jake returned home each evening, to spend the first half hour (at a minimum) telling her about his day - filling her in on any cases that had opened while she’s been away. She lapped up all the information eagerly, throwing out ideas as they came to her, and the sheer thought of being able to play a part in regulating justice to their city made her giddy with excitement. So Amy had been excited to return to work, if only to scratch the itch that her FOMOW had left her with.

As it turned out, she had a much larger case of something brewing underneath her skin - something that was increasing dramatically with every passing second.

Amy had FOMOM: Fear Of Missing Out on Mac.

It had, for example, been exactly one hour and thirty seven minutes since she’d walked out of her and Jake’s apartment, blowing goodbye kisses to her son as he rested comfortably in his father’s arms. One hour and thirty six minutes since she’d reconsidered the whole notion of returning to work, her fingers hovering over Holt’s number on her cell phone as she made her way down the stairs, and one hour and thirty four minutes since she’d convinced herself that she could totally do this.

(Also, it has been sixteen minutes since she’s realised just how many officers on her team had names that began with the letter M. And how her mind no longer seemed to be able to say any other name that began with the same combination of consonants and vowels without automatically reverting to her son’s.)

She hadn’t even passed the two hour mark yet, and already Amy felt like she’d been away from her family for eight years.

Her phone lights up from its resting place along the edge of the podium, and she glances at it quickly, trying her best to tamper down the racing heartbeat that accompanies the notification that her husband has sent her a photo.

This was it. This was the text Jake was going to send to her, that announced excitedly that their prodigy of a son had managed to figure out how to walk, fifteen minutes after she’d stepped out the apartment this morning. Or that he’d pronounced his first word - a clear and proud call for Daddy - and that Jake hadn’t managed to get video of it but it was so amazing, babe, I wish you could have been there to see it!

Her hands grip the wooden edges of the platform her Return To Work speech occupied, eyes glued to the background picture of Mac sleeping on an also sleeping Jake’s chest, and from the tables before her one of the officers clears their throat politely. The sound cuts through the spiral Amy was beginning to gravitate towards, pulling her attention back to her team, and with an apologetic smile she wraps up the rest of the briefing quickly. There were still four and half pages left of her speech, but it’s nothing that she can’t compose in an email when her mind is a little less preoccupied, and in all honesty the only order of business she can focus on right now is Priority One: Unlocking her phone.

There have been many, many advancements in the name of modern technology; and 2 hours, 53 minutes and 47 seconds into Amy’s first shift she has twice already cursed the fact that nobody has created the option for a person to be able to reach into their phone and touch the subject of an image. Never before has she had such a craving to squeeze her son’s chubby cheeks, to feel the unbelievably soft skin that she knows he has.

Her husband, in yet another display of sweetness, has been giving her regular updates on his and Mac’s day at home together - and two minutes ago he’d sent through a photo of their son, reclined in his baby seat, with apple sauce spread out allll over his cheeks. It was equal parts adorable and painful for Amy, for her to not be able to a) grab a cloth and wipe away the mess as her son grins up at her, and b) smother his tiny face with a million tiny kisses.

She missed him. Missed him more than she’d thought possible. Her arms felt empty without their son in them, and it’s nearly impossible for her to imagine what life was like before their family had become a party of three.

In absolutely no surprise to anybody other than himself, Jake has turned out to be an excellent father. He’s been by her side through the whole thing - even the middle of the night feeds, taking to burping their son like a pro - and the way Mac’s face lights up whenever his eyes land on Jake (and vice versa, it’s honestly just the sweetest thing to see) tells Amy all that she needs to know. Their son is going to adore Jake, and there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that her husband is EVER going to walk away from his family.

Distractedly, Amy shuffles the paperwork around on her desk, offering a tight smile to one of her colleagues as they pass. Get it together, Santiago. You are a badass police sergeant for one of the strongest teams in the entire NYPD. You can get through one shift without seeing your son. Her phone vibrates with an incoming heart emoji filled text from her husband, and she takes his support as fuel for her cause, standing up from her desk and taking purposeful strides towards the filing cabinets. You’re a badass police sergeant with a highly effective, strongly sought after filing system, and you can do this.

Her eyebrows knit in disgust as she opens the first drawer, taking in the messy array of folders that occupied the once orderly space, and she supposes she should be thankful in some way that there was someone in the office who thought that this hot mess worked better than her system (and therefore provided a worthy distraction for her entirely preoccupied mind), but in all honesty she’s just completely horrified.

Already composing a polite but firm memorandum in her mind, Amy begins pulling the files out of their incorrect positions, glancing at her watch as she gets to work.

Only five hours, two minutes and twenty seconds to go.

It’s 4 hours and 28 minutes into Amy’s workday when she hears the elevator doors open and a tiny gasp escape Officer Alvarado’s mouth, and with a quick lift of her head she notices why. Jake has suddenly appeared on her floor, with their son safe and sound inside the carrier strapped to his chest. His smile lights up the room - like it always does, even at home - and even though he’s clearly trying to make his way towards Amy, it seems that the sudden appearance of Mac Peralta in the precinct has garnered every single officer’s attention.

Amy’s not one to pull rank (honestly, who is she kidding?) but her footsteps are quick against the linoleum floor, increasing in intensity the closer she gets to her husband, and Jake’s already in the process of unclipping a strap as she nears. “I figured you’d probably be in need of a pick-me-up right about now,” he mumbles, his voice soft enough to only land in Amy’s ears.

Nodding eagerly, Amy shoots her husband a grateful look before smiling in Mac’s direction, stretching her hands out as he lifts his own in recognition.

“There’s my little guy!” She cries out, sliding one hand along her son’s back as his chonky little arms and legs begin to wave around in excitement. He coos as she lifts him out of the carrier with Jake’s help, and the sound buries deep in her heart as the feeling of utter completion begins to wash over her now that Mac is leaning against her chest.

Shifting her shoulder slightly, Amy tilts her grip slightly in an effort to show off to the crowd her greatest achievement to date. “Squad, meet our son - Mac.”

There’s a crowd of tiny waves, all of which are greeted with a tiny saliva-covered fist moving back and forth from Mac’s mouth; and after a few more minutes of leg squishing and attempts to reach out for various badges, Amy’s squad disperses - suddenly aware that absolutely none of them were currently doing their work, and that there was no way they could hide such a fact from their boss.

Jake’s palm rests against Amy’s shoulder as she leads them towards the third floor break room, a quiet eating space that has yet to be tainted by the questionable eating habits of either Scully or Hitchcock. “You have had many brilliant ideas in all the years we’ve been together, babe, but I think this one might just be your best yet.” Amy announces to Jake as she settles into a vacant chair, grinning over at her husband as he chooses the seat opposite.

He smiles, that gentle nod of his head that he does when he’s secretly proud of his actions kicking in, and Amy stretches her left leg out to brush against his. His beam grows brighter as he leans forward, brushing his fingers gently along the tiny curls that have begun to form on their son’s head before replying, “Safe to say, I’ve gotten pretty good and picking up on the my wife is having a meltdown style of texting.”

Scoffing, Amy cranes her head back slightly to take in her son’s adorable face as she responds. “I’d like to think I’ve handled today pretty well.” It’s a lie, and they both know it.

Letting out a soft laugh, Jake shakes his head slightly. “Tell that to the fifty-odd messages I’ve received from you today.”

She feels a soft blush wash over her cheeks, but Amy doesn’t care in the slightest. They both know that Jake fared no better when it had been his turn to return to work, and they’ve come to the total and utter acceptance that Mac Peralta just so happens to be the most adorable and addictive baby that ever graced the earth. Facts are facts, and there was no point hiding it.

“Okay, so maybe I’ve - ” Pausing mid-sentence, Amy takes a closer look at her son, fingers swirling around his soft hair carefully.

“Ames?”

“His hair has grown.”

Nodding, Jake scoots his chair closer, and the corresponding scrape sounds oddly loud as it bounces off the surrounding walls. “Yeah, he’s definitely going to end up with my curls. It’s both a blessing and a curse, but he’ll figure that out eventually.”

Amy shakes her head quickly. “No, I mean it’s grown. Since this morning.”

“Babe, it’s been five hours.”

“It has, though! See this curl? It’s WAY more pronounced than it was earlier today. It wraps around my finger twice now!”

His eyes are dubious, but if there is anything that Jake has learned by now it is not to doubt his wife, and so he responds simply with a nod. It’s not convincing in any way, shape, or form, but Amy is way too distracted to bother with a rebuttal.

“I knew this was going to happen! He’s growing so quickly, babe.” Her eyes have turned wide as saucers, and she can feel her eyebrows raising to nearly the point of her hairline, but none of that matters in the slightest. “We’re going to miss out on so. much! Why did we not take this into consideration?” Her lips press against the top of Mac’s head as she holds him closer, jiggling one knee on reflex as he wriggles slightly in her arms. Slowly, Amy begins to feel her chest tighten up as all of the niggling doubts of her returning to work rush to the surface.

“Ames”. Jake’s hands rest gently on top of her own, squeezing slightly as she raises her head to meet his. “We’re not going to miss out on anything. You have put together the most thorough, well-spaced out babysitting schedule that has meant that one of our friends or family is always going to be around when we’re not. With any luck, it’ll never be longer than eight or nine hours before we’re all home together again, and either one of us is always only a video call away.”

Nodding, Amy drops her head back down to leave another kiss on Mac’s forehead, and she takes in a deep breath of that incredible new baby smell while she’s there. Already, she can feel herself being to reset.

“There are going to be a thousand moments, some big and some small, and yeah, maybe we might miss a couple here and there, but the most important thing is that Mac is already so, so loved. He knows that, and we know that, and honestly that’s all that matters.”

Amy’s pounding heart slowly lessens its assault against her chest, and as Jake’s hands tighten their grip over hers she begins to nod. If someone had told her eight years ago that the immature cop that sat across from her would end up being the source of some of the sweetest things she’s ever heard in her life, she would have laughed in their faces. But here he was, holding his rightful title of Greatest Husband and Father Ever, and honestly she wouldn’t have it any other way. She smiles, leaning in slightly to bridge the gap between them with a chaste (read: work appropriate) kiss. “I love you so much, babe.”

He mirrors her nod with his own, throwing in a wink. “It’s easy to do, Ames. I am very loveable.”

She knows it to be true, but still Amy rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Peralta. You’re just lucky that we make pretty cute babies.”

“Liquid fire, Ames. I said it on Day One, and there’s no way I’m backing down.”

Letting out a contented sigh, Amy pulls Mac in for one last tight squeeze, taking in another hit of his perfect baby scent before standing. “Alright. I’ve got to get back to work now, otherwise it’s just never going to happen.” Leaving one last parting kiss on Mac’s forehead, she passes her son to Jake, still unable to tear her eyes away from him for too long. “Thank you so much for bringing him in today, this is exactly what I needed.” Her son grumbles out a protest in the sudden change of plans, and it’s all she can do to not pull him immediately back into her arms.

Jake smiles, reaching out to fiddle with Mac’s flailing right arm as he leans towards Amy for another sneaky kiss. “I figure once he’s big enough to fit into that NYPD onesie the squad gave us, we’ll just set him up with his own desk in the corner.”

“There you go, with another brilliant idea!”

Gripping Mac’s hand in his fingers, Jake calls out “Goodbye, Mommy!”, and oh, how Amy’s heart begins to ache. She feels it squeeze tighter as her two favourite men walk towards the elevator, and it gives one last protesting ache as the elevator doors slide shut. Her feet feel heavy as they turn away from the exit, and she flicks her wrist upwards to check the time again.

2 hours, 57 minute and 38 seconds to go.

There’s a vague memory of paperwork, interrogations, and a quick debrief as Amy’s shoes hit the pavement on the sidewalk outside the precinct, and her mind is still partially thinking of a case that landed on her desk late this afternoon when she notices what has easily turned into one of her favourite sights to see: her husband and son, waiting patiently outside for her return.

Her hands may be a little grabby as they reach for her baby boy, but Jake only chuckles as he passes Mac over, running his hand up and down her back in greeting as she smothers her son’s face in kisses. She mirrors the kisses with another one on Jake’s cheek as he reaches for her purse, gripping it with one hand as he takes her free hand with his other, and Amy’s smile is undeniably bright as they make their way down the familiar path home.

Tomorrow, she will interview a suspect and put all of her efforts into finally cracking the drug ring that had begun to fester on the streets of Brooklyn. Tomorrow, she will play her part in the takedown of a organised crime kingpin that has held reign for far too long.

But for now, Amy’s going home to spend time with her family - this little family of three that might be smaller than others, but that her and Jake have created on their very own, and nobody can tear away from them no matter how hard they try. Sometimes, she will be a badass sergeant that can take down New York’s worst with a swing of her fist. And sometimes, she’s simply a mother at home with her family, singing along to nursery rhymes and wiping spit-up from her blouse.

She misses her family when they’re not together, and she misses her work when she’s not in uniform - and even though there’s still a tiny portion of lingering doubt that maybe she won’t be able to handle both, with Jake’s fingers gripped tightly against her own on their walk home a sense of calm washes over her.

Both are equally important, and both are 100% worth it, and if one means missing out on something from the other, there is always going to be one Most Important detail to consider - that she and Jake were working hard to create a safe and loving world for their son.

And that was worth fighting for, even if it came with a little FOMO.

#a little something that came from nowhere last night #juuuust scraping in for April 28 #aka our National Holiday #the FOMOW is real #b99 fanfic #jake x amy fic #peraltiago fic #hope you guys find this sweet #title from Powderfinger ... Aussie represent!#my writing

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