#I still dunno how I managed to model all of this to be honestly

[byun-slug]

Original Hiro & Clockwork Hiro

Small test render I've made before I proceed to a small comics session. Since I've already made Clockwork Hiro model, I simply needed to edit and remodel some parts to make original version.

So here's comparison of Master of the Railway and Winder of the Railway. Clockwork Hiro looks bit grumpy in that pic, but in AU storyline he is pretty kind and soft towards the other himself.

(Actually he is being rude towards Spencer(s) only, and rather being kind to others.)

[🚫3D Model made by me(ByunSlug),

Do NOT Steal/Use/Reupload my works!🚫]

[amymbona]

So I kinda had this au idea for sex therapist!Patrick but who specialises in treating people who find it hard to cum. But he's got this warm/confident/empathetic vibe, like what he loves most about his job is helping the men and women who come to him for guidance; who trust him to touch and tease their bodies, to just look at them and know what it takes to make them finally feel good. I dunno, I can just see Patrick putting his sex god powers towards helping and healing ❤️

THE GASP I JUST GASPED

Poor you :((( You're so ashamed of yourself, thinking all of the mistakes come from your side, that your body is just broken in some way, that you're the reason why none of your sexual partners were satisfied. And it breaks your heart honestly, 'cause you're afraid you won't be able to find a long term partner just because of this simple reason. You're aware sex is important in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be only your partners who remain unsatisfied - usually under the impression that you're not turned on enough by them to actually cum - but mainly yourself, unable to cum despite your raging arousal. And the worst thing is, you still don't know whether the mistake is really in you, or if you've just only been fucked by shitty men.

It takes a lot of courage for you to make an appointment at the Zweig clinic, as you're incredibly creeped out by the idea of opening yourself like that to some stranger. He sounds friendly on the phone, offering you a bunch of dates to choose from and just tells you not to worry, come in some comfy clothes, have a good breakfast in the morning, and that he will help you.

When you actually first step in, you're surprised to find a pretty domestic looking place. There's no waiting room, only a small corridor with one chair. It seems that doctor Zweig either has very little clients, or just manages to split them into so many appointments that they never overlap. You sit on the chair, one leg nervously bouncing as you wait for the door to open, really nervous what he will be like.

Doctor Zweig doesn't let you wait for long, his curly head peeking out of the door - "Welcome, it's so nice to meet you!" - and simply from the sight of his handsome face, you feel like you could cum. He's by far the most gorgeous man you have ever set your eye on, and suddenly you're almost sure why he is so successful.

He invites you in, insisting you call him Patrick and asks your name, then offers you a place to sit. "Would you like anything? A glass of water? Tea, coffee?" You leave the comfy looking sofa for him and plop down in a vintage looking arm chair as he goes to fetch you a glass of water. Soon, he returns with a smile and leisurely sits down, shooting one more smile in your direction.

You do the basic introduction when you tell him your name and age and then obviously the reason why you came. Patrick doesn't ask for your personal details at first, instead opting to tell you something about himself too. You learn he is nearing his thirties and has a fair share of sexual experience, that his biggest hobby is tennis and some other facts he considers important for you two to warm up.

For the whole time, you're struggling to keep your eyes off of him, drinking in the sight of his face. He's genuinely so handsome, like a god damn model, like he should be on the cover of some magazine. His eyes are so rich, shining at you like two expensive diamonds, and yet incredibly warm, compliment by a casual smile on his face. The curls on top of his head bounce lightly as he nods in response to your slurred words, patiently waiting for you to fully explain yourself. He allows you all the time you need, stating you're his only customer for today and so there's no need to rush. Your comfort, he says, is his priority.

Then, the personal questions begins. How many sexual partners have you had, all the positions you ever had sex in, which one usually makes you cum and do you ever come? Have you ever squirted? Does penetration work? So many questions that have you a blushing, sweating mess, almost making you want to cry. But Patrick is so sweet and kind, saying that it's completely natural, that nobody is judging you and you can talk to him as if he's just an old friend. This time, nothing serious happens and you two only make another appointment for next week, allowing you all the time in the world. When you're leaving, he asks whether you're feeling, in any way, aroused, stating it's important to know the effect he himself has on you. He gives you a homework as well, to come up with all the things that turn you on.

The next time you come in, you're wearing a pretty floral dress, as you're more afraid of him seeing you than really touching you. This way, if you two proceed to anything like that, it could all be hidden. Again, Patrick greets you with the usual smile, making your heart warm up, and invites you in. He sits you on the sofa, positioning himself next to you, and listens as you list all the things that excited you the most.

"I'm gonna touch you a bit, okay?" Patrick proposes and you nod, knowing that's the whole purpose of this predicament, so you can't really refuse.

He goes really slowly on you, so slowly and cautiously, that is actually leaves you surprised. First, his hand finds yours and he intertwines your fingers, inspecting the rings on your fingers and then the bracelets on your wrists. He kisses you on the cheek and throws one arm around you shoulders, easing you into his chest. He's so warm and smells good, it makes your head spin.

Then, Patrick finally kisses you on the lips, just lightly smooching the cherry taste of your lip stick, tasting you. He lets you kiss him back, allowing you to set the pace and intensity, engaging in your first make out session. His palm finds a place on your knee, just where your dress ends, but he doesn't dare slide under the fabric yet. Instead, his fingers lightly rub your knee and squeeze it.

When you begin responding more hungrily, your nose bumping into his messily, he pulls away. In front of him sits a cute, blushing girl, her pupils blown wide as she's unable to believe she's been kissed like that. Seriously, nobody has ever kissed you better than Patrick just did. And it's only the first kiss you two have shared. If he's supposed to fix your body in the most intimate ways, you can't even imagine what it would feel like when he proceeds further.

"I want you to set a pace. And a boundary. Okay? Don't just kiss me because you feel like you have to," he tells you, still massaging your knee gently, while he runs the fingers of his free hand through your hair. "Think of it as a real sexual experience, because it is. As if I was your boyfriend, doing all this with you."

You nod again, suddenly feeling shy of your actions. The sudden need you have for him. "Can I kiss you again?"

He lets you. He lets you kiss him and crawl onto his lap, to run your hands over his shoulder and tangle in the curls on the back of his neck. He allows you to touch him just as you please, discovering his body in your own way. When you hands keep roaming over his chest for too long, Patrick gently directs them to the top button of his shirt. "If you want to."

You take your time, slowly undoing the buttons on Patrick's shirt one by one, allowing for your palms to feel his skin. He's ripped muscles tight even when he sits so relaxed under you - probably the result of frequent tennis playing - and not so hairy either. All in all, he's warm and nice to touch.

Patrick notices the little falter of your breath as you stare at his body, and the gentle raise of your own chest, each and every breath passing through your mouth. The lipstick is a bit smeared from the messy intensity of your kisses and so he reaches up to wipe away the bit that remains on your chin, his touch gentle.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N," he whispers with full honesty, unable to tear his eyes off of your face. It's natural for Patrick to develop a bit of a relationship with his clients, his magic wouldn't work otherwise, but with you - such a pretty girl on his lap - he genuinely means it.

"Patrick," you sigh, lips parting as his finger slides over them.

"I want to make you feel good," he states in determination, his eyes glowing as he looks at you. "Will you let me?"

You let him. With his help, you sit with your back facing him, between his spread legs. Before your back could come to rest against his chest he stops you, and slowly slips down the straps of your dress. Shivers run down your spine at the gentle touch of his fingertips, feeling the softness of your skin. You have such a beautiful body, and he has only seen so little so far.

The top of your dress pools around your hips as he pulls you into his chest and his hands settle on your waist. There you rest, settled into the warmth of Patrick's body, eyes wide as you stare ahead, wondering if he can see your breasts over your shoulder. And you'd be really nervous if he could.

"I'm gonna touch," his whisper reaches your ear, the slow movements giving you time to reject his advances. But you don't.

Patrick's palms cup your breasts delicately, earning a small sigh from your pink lips, your own gaze slipping to see how good they fit in his hands. Almost as if he was made to holds them. He feels the weight in his hands before lightly squeezing, one more sound from your lips following. There, as you rest, Patrick begins gently kneading your breasts, squeezing the muscles and letting you get adjusted to the unusual intrusion.

The moment Patrick senses the ease in your posture, your shoulders slouching just barely and your head falling on his shoulder, he decides to proceed. Both of his thumbs roll over nipples, the touch so light but thoroughly felt. It makes you shudder and moan, the high pitched sound filling the room of his office.

No man has ever paid a generous amount of attention to your breasts, finding them just pretty to stare at in your low cut tops, but never enough to fondle or fully touch them. A kiss here and a violent tug on your nipple there, but that was all.

"Do you like it?" Patrick asks, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

"Yes," you nod.

"Woman's nipples are as sensitive as her clitoris, at most times, but many people fail to notice that," Patrick continues talking while still teasing your nipples delicately, earning a small sigh from your pink lips. This is, honestly, better that any soft of a dirty talk. Simply being told how exactly your body works while it's being touched at the most sensitive spots. That's thousand times better. "It's crucial that they are stimulated too, as it adds to the sexual experience and makes the whole act much more enjoyable."

"I-" you attempt to speak, but all that leaves your mouth are small gasps and moans. "I haven't really... No one ever pays attention."

But Patrick is. All his focus is glued to your sensitive, pink, pretty nipples and how the feel under his fingers. By all your reactions, he's well aware that it's making you feel good, better than just good. "That's okay, sweetheart, I am. Do you know a woman can orgasm purely as a result of nipple stimulation?"

Of course you don't know that. With all the attention your breasts have ever received, you barely know how they work. "N-no."

"I want you to know. To make you feel it. Will you let me?" he's determined. He wants to make you cum, not by fucking or fingering you. But simply by playing with your beautiful breasts and whispering sweet words into your ear, have you lay and pant against his chest, too shy to actually face him. He wants you exactly the way you are, that's how your first proper orgasm should be.

"Please."

That word is like a switch turned on for Patrick, stopping him from holding back. His lips mouth your neck, trace the path down your throat while his hand keep kneading your breasts, listening to your delicate moans that follow each time he deliberately brushes his fingers over your nipples. You're a perfect little patent, but you're also much more than that. A wonderful young woman with shattered sex appeal who's begging to be put back together, to be given the lacking confidence and shown how much fun sex can really be. You're all he needs for his work and he's all you need for your life.

Perhaps a part two? :3

[starlightshadowsworld]

Something I feel the early Fnaf games missed out on was that (to me at least) the animatronics never felt like kids.

Like I never had a moment where it hit me that oh, oh these arent just spooky animatronics….They’re kids.

And I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately with the release of Poppy Playtime chapter 4. Because it and chapter 3 just beat you over the head with the crushing realisation that oh…fuck these are all kids.

The letters from Riley, the house and all those empty bloody bed and just everything with Doey.

You really cannot escape that feeling and I absolutely believe it enhances the story to not only include it. But to have it so present throughout the chapters.

But I didn’t connect it to Fnaf until I also saw UnwitheredTruths Fnaf 1 concept video. It’s was a hey what if the lore was planned from the get go style video.

Which made the missing children’s incident more of a focus at points, with the mini games and such, obviously still keeping it in the shadows for lore finding.

But it really made me realise how much this area of the franchise didn’t really get touched on in the games.

Which is interesting because when you look at a lot of Fnaf fan projects and mascot horror games that are pretty much based off it.

That’s the part that most people draw from.

Like FNAF VHS and the Battington tapes. I’ve mentioned Poppy but there’s also the Walten Files, Andy’s Apple farm etc. Which are all spooky and terrifying with the focus being on a tragedy.

That usually involves a child or several.

And yet Fnaf itself in the early games doesn’t really touch on it other than hey it happened. But it makes sense because the games back then weren’t focused on characters but the story.

You know the LOOOOOOOOREEE.

It was less important who the kids were and more why are they’re five? Who killed then, pink guy or purple guy?

Also I keep specifying the Fnaf games for a reason because the books, The Silver Eyes actually did this. Not with Charlie or Elizabeth but with their version of Golden Freddy.

Michael Brooks is the childhood friend of our characters and was one of the missing children. And the reveal that Michael Brooks is Golden Freddy, my fucking heart man.

And the kids wanting them to stay safe and secure after everything, because that’s their best friend ahhh.

The movie also manages to get that with the animatronics playing around with Abby. They have moments where they feel like big kids and it’s both so sweet and heartbreaking.

And I keep talking about the early games but it’s honestly the last few that have made that jump to me. Like even sister location to me, it was always Baby and never oh it’s Elizabeth too.

Like I just assume Elizabeth doesn’t exist anymore and not even in a ghost way either. And I don’t think Fnaf 6 counts because it’s all in the speech rather than the animatronics themselves.

So probably Security Breach/ Ruin which is also interesting because ti my knowledge they aren’t possessed. And yet probably act more like humans than Gregory (this is a joke btw.)

Into the pit had a thing about replacing Oswalds dad with Spring rap but Springtrap just never felt like a person. Which honestly might’ve been even more terrifying had he been.

Regardless as the franchise starts to focus more on characters, I would like to see these aspects explored. I dunno how it would be especially with the whole oh btw the early games might not be canon.

Which…I refuse to think about…for my own sanity. But I do like this concept of animatronics possessed by kids acting like kids.

Granted our next game about the mimic which wasn’t possessed by a kid…as far as I’m aware. But it is modelled after Edwin’s kid and mimicked his behaviour.

So it would be cool to see that and idk maybe some existential moment of oh what am I now? Now that the friend I was made for is gone and so is my creator.

I’m just saying look at how happy Jackie and look at the mimic in Ruin, something horrible happened here.

I dunno if any of this made sense but it’s an interesting theme I think would be fun and horrifying to explore in this franchise.

[ms-scarletwings]

I am sorry to bother you but I have to say, I feel Dib got treated too harshly most of the time. It's the point of the story yes but at times it just feels flat out sadistic for no reason.

It's why the Gargantis Array comic storyline sucks to me, it was just two issues of buildup to make Dib a gross fat joke and humiliate him across space. Jhonen just really seems to love torturing Dib more than anyone and it's rarely even deserved.

Oh, this is the opposite of a bother, friendo!

I actually have a lot of reading to still do on the topic of the comics. I’m woefully only really up to good knowledge about issues 46-49 and a lot of bits of pieces otherwise. If what you’re saying rings true, that is sad to hear, but pretty interesting still. I’ve always in the back of my head been a little afraid that Dib’s karma could be flanderized to the point of making him a butt monkey. Especially when we all know that’s supposed to be Skoodge’s job! (waka waka)

As for the show, honestly? I think they managed the balance just fine. It’s not so much that the show was specifically cruel to him, but that sadism broadly was one of its central themes and there were no efforts made to exclude Dib from that. And why should they have? He’s not an innocent woobie, and in fact is actually in the seat of a very ambitious antagonist against the real main character’s goals. Arbitrary events of misfortune and pain were the bread and butter of the series back then, and almost no one was spared. Jhonen (who cameoed himself in the show just to choke on a fish and die for a joke) also from what I hear injected a lot of his own qualities into Dib, so I imagine it probably IS very entertaining to him to give the boy the works.

From what I have seen of the comics, that looks like a much finer line to tow. And this more of an off the cuff ramble, but you know what I think??? I think they made Dib a touch way too sympathetic actually. There’s so much more focus on just him and Zim’s side antics, and the more time you take Dib off world and away from the rest of the Earth side characters, the fewer reminders they give you about how many of his problems are majorly self inflicted and how much of a disturbance he can be to society. And, for better or worse, a less dark overall tone in the comics means that the moments of overtly black comedy are going to stand out a little more against the modernized background by contrast.

And there’s another elephant in the room that kind of gets to me, personally. As well as I can put it well, the art style change kind of really affects the lens he can be viewed through. Maybe more than most people want to admit. And I’m not dissing the rounded down, brightened up change, it’s not a better or worse direction from the show… but it is a different one with different strengths and weaknesses.

Like, look at Dib’s early season model sheets for a base of reference.

Now compare him alongside the comic and Florpus interpretation of Dib Membrane. OBVS I am simplifying a ton here, there’s a ton of room for more range than these examples.

I’m not here to say he’s a better or worse Dib visually, he’s still Dib to me! But is notable how comic Dib actually breaks a ton of the “rules” of what kind of character they wanted Dib to be. To put it one way, they sanded down some of his edges and he’s not as apparently “skrungly” as he used to be.

What I like about the change is that it actually gives the better impression of him actually being the lil dorkass kid he’s always been. He’s got a slight aesthetic shift that shows off his unique interests and it definitely sets him apart from Zim, who actually retained most of his own show design. He’s still got some funny lookin’ qualities and he’s so much more endearing

One of the downsides of all that, however, is probably that he’s so damn endearing and as a default.

I dunno if you ever watched Little Shop of Horrors, amazing musical btw, but, it’s supposed to have this whole tragic ending where the main character’s, Seymour’s, long chain of mistakes catch up with him and he meets his demise. In the movie, they casted Rick Moranis for the character, and he played such a puppy-eyed, adorkable Seymour that it made audiences suddenly too bummed out to even appreciate the dark ending. They hated it so much that the crew actually just changed the ending completely so that Seymour gets a consequence-free happy ending with everything he ever wanted. Even though he’s literally a serial murderer of sorts. You were always supposed to feel for him, but not to the point where watching him fail just makes you feel horrible.

I think Dib works kinda like that on a meta level.

If there’s any ruling on what goes over that invisible line when it comes to handling his character, I think Florpus Gaz nailed it right on the head. Dib is never supposed to just utterly break under the weight of his world. Can he sometimes crack? Yeah totally, especially in the “brink of madness” sense. Or if it’s funny. The golden rule is not to give him more than he can handle, and Dib CAN handle a lot of bullshit. He may be a frustrated lil squirt but he’s been at this for a very long time, and it’s hype af watching how he’s not slowing down even in the face of that. Dib and Zim’s biggest POSITIVE shared trait is the strength of their spirits against a world that is ultimately callous and cruel at every turn to them.

Every second you write Dib where he’s wallowing in despair or feeling sorry for himself is a second you come closer to that line and it’s what you need to dish out in wary moderation.

So I guess the TL:DR of what i think I’m getting at here is… it’s all about perspective.

But I really should read more of the comics.

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

hey cap! not the chapter notes unfortunutely (executive disfunction got me in a choke hold- i have also been trying to watch a show for the past two days. i am nine minutes in.) however i do have a couple questions!

so it is mentioned on occasion that juleka - same as in canon - wishes to be a model, is that going to be explored more in depth in future or is it just a fun thing to discuss? or shall i wait and see? also since it is a canon element the reason Why she wants to be a model is interesting to me due to her aversion to being the centre of attention. although i suppose there is different ways to model, they don't all require a cat walk (there is a pun here somewhere) but they do tend to focus heavily on the model/s

you have also given us adult panthera designs and i love them dearly. how tall is she in them? but that does beg the question of will they still be heroes when they are older or did you just want to design MILF panthera?

also, i am asking this next question in the least pushy way i can manage, is there plans for more OM soon? either way i do have plans to re-read and send in notes but i have been curious for a wee bit. i feel like an asshole for asking because you spend your free time doing this but i am genuinely curious and won't ask again as i can imagine this is annoying. the balancing act between showing interest in something continuing without seeming like i am demanding for more is difficult.

HIIIII oh I love answering questions okie okie okie

Juleka still wants to be a model yes! I'll explore it more in the next 2 shanghai chapters (there's a lil bit at the end for the first one and the second chapter is just gonna be light and easy shenanigans so she'll have a chance to think about modeling) and also the next 'reflekta' episode stand in.

Future Panthera is VERY TALL. Not supernaturally tall, but like, tall. Like she walks by and you go "that lady is tall." However, I did design her only for design sake. Lemme tell you, girl is RETIRING heroism after all the villain business is dealt with she is SO DONE WITH IT. But she still is down to help with guardian activities and hero training. Juleka would just rather not risk her life anymore after the shit she went through.

As for OM, don't worry about asking for it. I know it's been like. Probably over a year now. I've been thinking a lot about it too. The thing is, I really adore OM and I've been eager to continue with it, it's just that I'm not able to stir up a lot of drive for it?

Like, what used to drive me before was everyone's interest in it and their questions and their asks but after things got, a bit, dicey, with what people wanted from me and were sending me, I distanced myself from the AU with a break that, has lasted a bit long? And so my drive is quite depleted.

I'd love to keep working on it, but it's hard to when I feel like, honestly, no one would quite care? I dunno. But I'll keep chipping away at it I'll just have to maybe reread and fall in love with the AU again.

[trickster-whim]

Birthday posting 😎

A few months back, I preordered a Furai Rodimus model kit, as a sort of reward for sticking through work/birthday present, and it took a while for him to come in, and for other preorders to come in, and for the shipment to get to me, etc, but I finally got him and finished building him last night! And only injured myself a little bit! He still needs detailing, and he could use some paint, but he's so pretty (^3^)/～☆

I'm just going to post a bunch of in-progress shots and put them under a readmore. I'm tired now lol.

"Beware...."

Here's the top half done, and you can see the clippers I used to cut the sprues since my nippers absolutely disappeared into hell, and also the dollar store woodworking tool I was using to skive off bits of spare plastic or whatever and also I stabbed fully into my thumb.

(So also for my birthday, I sewed myself a haori-inspired jacket and immediately dipped it in red oil paint by accident, so when I saw red on Roddy, I thought I'd just done that again, but nope lol.)

(I did get oil paint on the instructions somehow tho.)

I got stuck here (　・ω・)

You can see, in my model kit skull bowl, the pieces that I just couldn't get to fit, so I took a break to make some garlic knots.

(Fun fact: you can probably find a recipe to make garlic knots online, but it also works if you just make a big batch of "sure I know how to make pizza dough without a recipe!" dough and just portion it out over a few days. Whatever works for you, honestly, and whatever gives you a few minutes to calm down and figure out how to push three little pieces of plastic together without breaking them like you did with the sugar syrup pump.)

We got legs here, baybee.

"No pictures, please."

Finally all together..... but at what cost?

But for real, I think I put him together mostly right (some parts were upside down but I think I fixed it. Pretty sure...), except for his damn hips. They don't look right to me, but every time I've tried to adjust them, I just end up casting penis explosion and yeeting his crotch across the room. And that's just a pain to fix. So I dunno. It doesn't look right, but also I'm sick of trying to fix it, and also my fingers hurt lol. He's good enough for tonight, and I'll get back on his hips lator.

We went out to grab dinner (and bring it home), and I left Roddy like this because I was trying to see his balance, which is pretty nice honestly. My sister commented, "OH, he stepped in something," and I thought she meant Carver, since he has dirty little white paws and steps in things a lot, but for once it wasn't him. This is a pretty realistic "Ohh, shit, I stepped on something" pose, and that's one I'm always looking for.

"Ughgh I just cleaned my sneakers and everything!"

(Don't look at his hips please. They look really weird from this angle.)

Aaaand then I put the decals on. I don't usually use decals (I mean, I haven't done a lot of kits that use them, but when I get dolls with decals, I usually just take them off and paint the areas instead because sometimes.... decals bad...). I feel like I was being punished for always saying, "Don't rip the decals, Mike. Last time you ripped the decals," whenever anyone's trying to focus on things because I did a pretty bad job lmao. I promise I tried.

I also watercolored a little painting (that's my next post), and slapped some paint on Roddy, but I'll do more later maybe. I got real lazy after a while, haha.

But anyway, while I was sewing my jacket, I was watching Transformers Animated because I managed to link the act of sewing with watching TFA specifically (so now when I want to sew something, I have to pull up an episode and vice versa), but I finished them both and now I dunno what I want to watch. I've been reading through the IDW comics (and I finally managed to make it through Megatron Origin without getting immediately distracted by seeing a character called Decimus and laughing that "Decimus pessimus est" and needing to go find my old Latin stuff from college and reminisce over the characters in our books, so take that, adhd!), and I'm having fun at that, but I put off watching TFA for years (did I mention the ADHD? I don't know why either; I always wanted to watch it, but my brain don't work), so now that I'm done with that? ??

I'm still watching (V! V!) Victory, but that's mostly when I'm using the stationary bike, and I can't sew and use the bike and watch TV (actually, I can't sew and watch Victory at the same time because I need to read the subtitles. Those yatsura.). Maybe I'll rewatch Prime and actually finish that, too. I am... really bad at finishing things. Either way, that has nothing to do with Rodimus, especially since I was watching the 1986 animated movie while building him, but I guess I'm just talkative. Or writative.... (And I know I'm bugging my sister with my nonstop jabber about Animated. I just got a lot ta say!)

Anyway I'm not sorry for rambling because it's my birthday and I have ADHD. Kbai~~

11th hour addition: I think I got the hips to fit, but I did fling his crotch halfway across the room again. I'll work on it some more after we get back from birthday shenanigans. Kbai fr rls

[elionwriter]

Sherlock Holmes the Awakened: a Review

(SPOILERS AHEAD)

Sorry, sorry, sorry, but I just NEED to talk about this game! I have been a Frogwares Holmes fan since the very beginning and 'The Awakened' was always among my favourite titles. Not to mention one of the games that had scared the wits out of me. So I have to speak about the Remake now.

First and foremost, I think it needs to be reiterated that this game was made DURING THE FU****G INVASION OF UKRAINE! During such dark times, the team kept working on this. I would have supported this game even just for this reason alone.

Now, let's be honest: Frogwares never had the most marvelous graphics nor the most polished of gameplays and this entry is not an exception. I still feel the map system is a bit difficult to navigate (I may be an idiot, but I had the same issue with Chapter 1) but I really appreciated the added help the game gives you when you're recreating a scene, letting you know which passage you got wrong. Last game I found myself changing everything trying to hit the right combination so I really liked this fix.

This needs to be said: the game doesn't feel under any shape or form a product for a new fan. Everything from dialogues to game mechanics sort of take for granted that you've at least played 'chapter one'. Honestly? I'm ok with this, I hate having to always go through nearly identical tutorial stages for games I know inside out (like Pokémon) and I believe that most of not all people who are going to get this game ARE old fans!

I wasn't originally a big fan of the new Holmes and Watson models when the last game came out but....I dunno, they have grown on me. I find myself liking them now for, I suppose, no other reason than 'they are very expressive' and 'I've gotten used to them'. I think it's gotten to the point that these might be my favourite models of the two to date. Please ignore how fickle I am! (In honesty, just to draw a similar parallel, when Roger Craig Smith was first announced as Sonic's voice I hated it and now he's my fav Sonic v. actor)

This game has something.....compared to its predecessor, that makes it less scary. I can't really put my finger on it, but I distinctly remember the feeling of claustrophobia building in me when I was in the Black Edelweiss. Or the sheer jumpscare I got when the sacrificed American detective on the altar had tentacles coming out of it and severing his head making it roll to the ground. I remember almost not wanting to paddle the rowboat under the tree of hanging men in the Bayou. I remember how viscerally sick I felt at the lighthouse by all the gore and blood depicted. This time round.....I just didn't. I'm honestly not sure why this didn't hit me nearly as hard as its 2006 predecessor did!

And talking about comparisons, one thing I'm a bit disappointed they didn't grab the chance to do in this remake was fix the loose ends that were left hanging in the 2006 version. I mean....they still abandoned completely the search for that one Maori servant, what happened to all the people they managed to rescue? Who hired the private American detective that was killed? Why give out the cheap pendants? I know I'm a bit dumb and need extra explaining than what is necessarily needed but...I can't be the only one right? Sometimes you want to be told just a bit more.

Now, getting into the really good bits, that make all of it worth it!

'Chapter One' acted as a 'de facto' reboot of the Frogwares Holmes series, and I honestly think that was for the best. I don't really see where they could have gone with things after 'Devil's Daughter' and their Holmes had changed too much to be the same guy from 'The Silver Earring'...let alone Watson. But like this? They have a fresh, clean slate to start off from and they can rebuild the two mains' relashionship and lore from the ground up in a more strictly consequential manner. And the way they are doing it? I think it's state of the art!

The fact that they poke fun at themselves on certain points like Watson stating: "What about when you used to roll up only one of your sleeves? Did you get bored halfway through?!" I think the Devs themselves realized this was a cringe design choice and I like that they said so out loud.

The meta-conversation they wrote in towards the end, 'because yes, this HAS Happened before and the story still has the same outcome', is brilliant. I don't think I've ever seen another remake that acknowledges that it is a remake, and in the general madness that is mounting in the narrative this makes perfect sense! It adds one more layer of horror and inexplicable to the tale. The villain's warning 'that the Final Problem is coming and Sherlock will fall in the abyss too' is such a powerful way to use Canon. The prophecy is only made more real and dreadful by the fact that this person is aware of what has already happen in a similar but different scenario!

Also, not them using that one quote from 'The Valley of Fear' novel which happens to be one of my all time favourites!

I say, Watson,’ he whispered, ‘would you be afraid to sleep in the same room as a lunatic, a man with softening of the brain, an idiot whose mind has lost its grip?’ ‘Not in the least,’ I answered in astonishment. 'Ah, that’s lucky,’ he said, and not another word would he utter.

I think the thing that has most benefited from the Remake is Watson's character. Compared to the 2006 version, this Watson is a truly compelling character in his own right and this time round he's not just along for the ride. In this version, you simply cannot imagine how Holmes would have done it on his own. Watson was in every way a key component to the solution of the problem and the reason why Holmes didn't drown in madness. That point is driven home by Rochester asking 'How did you defeat me?' and Holmes answering 'I made a friend!'

Much of the narrative in the game was focused on Holmes truly learning to accept Watson's friendship and him as a person when he was still clinging so much to his old imaginary friend. You can see how, at first, Holmes refuses to be honest with the Doctor about what he thinks and feels and it's only as they move forward in the adventure that they both open up to each other. You can see as the adventure progresses that Holmes shifts his desperate cries from 'Jon' to 'Watson' to 'John' and the Doctor goes more and more often from 'Holmes' to 'Sherlock'. Mycroft also points this out when he says that Sherlock 'went from one Jon to another'. But this one, John Watson, is real and there to stay. In the context of a story that happens mostly in the detective's mind, Watson's friendship is really what turns the situation around!

I could add of little tid bits which were so random and on the nose that somehow worked, like the possessed 'Heidi' doll or the fact that you had to actually 'Kill Holmes' with the booby traps instead of avoiding them.

Also, "The director Guygax was randomly killed.....by a doll?!????!?!?! Yeah, let's just walk out of here no questions asked. That's too deep a wormhole even for this f***d up Adventure to go down. I'm sure nobody is gonna ask us questions, suspect or stop us as we go out the main doors!" 😃 -Holmes, probably.

So, yeah, I loved this game despite it not being perfect and my love and support goes to Frogwares more that ever!

[a-student-out-of-time]

One More Visit...

*Monday, February 4, Tokyo Metropolitan Matsuzawa Hospital, afternoon*

...

...

Nurse: Kemuri-san?

Oh? Y-Yes?

Nurse: You have a visitor who’s come to see you.

A visitor?

Nurse: Yes, her name is...Nijue Iroha? She says she knows you?

Nijiue, huh? Alright, send her in.

________________________________________________

*A couple minutes later*

Hi, Ui-san!

Ah. So it is you?

Yeah, I wanted to stop by, see how you’re doing.

How have things been?

Really nice, actually. The hospital staff have been really kind and understanding, and I’ve got a nicer bed than I ever had at home. I’m also...not as jumpy as I used to be.

You, uhh...you didn’t bring Jataro, did you?

No, I figured you didn’t really wanna see him.

Nah. Not yet, anyway...

Maybe...sometime. I dunno.

Seriously though, thank you for hearing me out, and having them send me here. I...I don’t even wanna think about what prison would’ve been like.

Yeah...I’m glad you’re feeling better.

...Are you okay? I heard your parents got busted.

Oh yeah, hehe...I was there.

...I’m sorry you ever had to deal with people like that in your life. I get it, though.

Yeah. But, Ui-san...I wanted to let you know I took your advice.

My advice?

Yeah, I managed to meet some really great people during that event! One of them- you know Fushimi Sakura?- I asked her if I could have a job as a fashion model, and she said yes!

So, I’m gonna move back in with my brother and sisters, I’ve got a career lined up and I know the man who I wanna marry someday!

I’m happy for you, kid.

Why are you here, though?

I wanted to check on you.

See...these last few weeks, I’ve had to really rethink a lot about myself and my future. It’s been hard- like really, really hard. I know I’ve accidentally hurt a lot of people, and I’ve only thought about myself a lot of the time. It was wrong of me...especially with what happened to you.

I...I kinda understand what it must’ve been like for you, having to deal with everything you did...but you did it alone.

...It’s not a time I wanna think about again.

Yeah, same here.

...Do you ever miss Jataro?

...

Sorry, but I’m not really ready to answer that. It’s...complicated.

I get it. There’s always mixed feelings there.

But, after everything that happened, all the people I hurt, I still didn’t give up. I kept going and tried to make things right with them.

And it’s made my life a lot better now. Things are really looking up from here, and I...I wanted you to be a part of that.

...That’s...really nice of you, Iroha-san.

Yeah! So, do you maybe wanna paint something together?

Funny you say that. I was actually working on something before you showed up. Nothing much, just a landscape I made with just white and burnt amber.

Whoa, really? That’s so cool!

Thanks. Um, do you need any paint or did you bring your own?

If you can spare some, that’d be nice. I have a piece in mind that I wanna give to someone.

A shark with laser eyes fighting a robot snake.

...

Sounds really fun, honestly. You’re making it as a gift?

Yeah, it’s for...someone else I got to meet recently.

I’m sure they’ll love it.

Yeah, I know he will.

Is there anything you’d like me to paint for you, Ui-san?

Me? Well...I dunno.

If it’s not too much trouble, could you paint me...maybe a field of flowers or something?

Sure thing!

But can you do it with opposite colors? Red for the grass, orange for the sky, all that?

Are you challenging me?

Cuz if so, you’re on!

Sounds fun too.

Yeah. I think my favorite thing about art is when you make it for someone.

It’s the best part about making something great.

*Iroha gets to work on her gifts to Ui and Noriaki, whistling a happy tune to herself*

______________________________________________

ALL EYES ON ME: COMPLETE

[dreamerstreamer]

Love Bite

Pairing: vampire!Dream / Clay x human!gn!reader

Summary: [Vampire!AU] Despite how deadly it may appear at first glance, you love your vampire boyfriend with all your heart, so when Clay goes a bit too long without a drink, you’re more than willing to help him.

Warnings: tw// mentions of blood & general vampire shenanigans

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: requested by a lovely anon who wanted to see vampire dream! this was lots of fun to explore, and i hope you all enjoy! <3

You scroll mindlessly along your mouse, your laptop screen illuminating your dim room with a pale glow as image after image pops up on your screen. Your assignment lies long forgotten on the side of your desk, the tab still open just a single click away.

“Whatever,” you mumble quietly to yourself as you click on another link. Your gaze briefly flickers to the calendar on your wall before you shake your head. “I still have another week to work on it—it’s fine.”

Letting out a sigh, you slump over onto your desk, pressing your cheek against the cool wood as you sweep your gaze over to your balcony window. Outside, the sky is dark, the vast expanse washed with a deep, navy hue as the stars begin to peek out from the shadows and gaze down at the bustling city below. It’s a little past midnight now, and despite how late it is, the streets are just as busy as ever. You only catch a small glimpse of the crescent moon hanging among them before your gaze drops to your balcony.

Yet again, it’s empty, completely devoid of life.

The sight makes you frown, and you tear your gaze away from the sight and back to your laptop, continuing your scrolling with a sulk.

It had been a little over four days since you had last seen your boyfriend. Not that you’re counting or anything, of course. It’s just that you’ve gotten lonely without him, and you’re starting to miss him more than you’d like to admit.

Having a vampire boyfriend and being a human isn’t always the easiest, but you’re more than willing to put up with it for him. You can still remember the day he had broken the news to you, having been fully prepared to sacrifice his life right then and there for you if you chose to call for a hunter. But you hadn’t—you chose to stay, to love him.

And love him you do.

There may be times where he has to disappear for a little while that leave you cold and wanting, but the time you do spend together more than makes up for it. He’s overwhelmingly kind, honestly stubborn, and always loves to put a smile on your face, no matter how bad of a day you may have had. You can’t possibly count how many times you’ve thrown yourself into his arms with the widest grin on your face, all just to feel him laugh against you with a soft kiss behind your ear. There’s no one else in the world for you, living or undead, and you are willing to wait for him. It’s embarrassing to think about, but you really would walk to the ends of the earth just for him.

Heat creeps up your neck at the thought, and you force it down with a huff, ducking your head back down again and staring at your assignment. You distantly think of your phone sitting next to your bed and the string of messages you had sent him a few hours prior, all of which remain unopened. Kicking your legs, you whine, burying your face into your arms upon your desk.

Tonight is just not your night, it seems.

Just then, you hear it—the unmistakable sound of nails tapping on glass.

Lifting your head, you blink, slowly turning to look over at your window. Squinting for a moment, you can barely make out the shape of a familiar silhouette standing on your balcony and leaning casually against the railing. His golden hair shines beneath the moonlight, and your heart leaps into your throat.

He’s here.

In an instant, you’re scrambling out of your desk chair and across the room. Fumbling with the balcony lock, you slide open the door with a gasp, the cool night breeze brushing against your cheeks with a soft caress. In front of you, the figure shoots you a crooked grin, his eyes flashing with delight.

“Good evening, sweetheart.”

Your heart melts at the sound of his ever-soothing, familiar voice, and you return his smile with one of your own. “Good evening to you too, Clay.” Scanning him up and down once, you gesture for him to come inside as you add jokingly, “You do know you don’t always have to come in through the window, right? I do have a front door.”

His grin only widens at your words, a soft chuckle tumbling from his lips as he ducks his head to step into your room. “I have a reputation to uphold as a vampire, you know?” he hums. The glint in his eye dances with mischief. “Twilight was the one who said that windows are the way to go.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, your lips twitching with amusement. “Are you really sure you want to use Twilight as your vampire role model of all things? Why not use...” You pause for a moment, then lift a finger. “Dracula?”

A grimace skitters across his face as he pulls the balcony door shut behind him. “Dracula may have been scary, but he was also an old man and, like, super creepy. At least modern vampire fiction makes us sound less gross.” His eyes gleam devilishly. “And also hot.”

You gulp, stepping back until your hand is brushing over the soft covers of your bed. “Well,” you ask softly, “do you think they got it right? The way they portray you guys?”

His lips split into a sly grin, his teeth flashing in the starlight. “I dunno, darling,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he dips his head closer to yours. “You tell me.”

Your breath catches for all but a second before you’re gently pushing him away from you with a giggle. “Nice try,” you say, leaping onto your bed with a teasing grin, “but I’m not feeding your ego any more. You do that enough on your own.”

He feigns a wounded look, climbing into the space next to you with a hurt pout. “Aw, bummer. At least give me a kiss, then.”

For a second, you pretend to think about it, mulling the decision over in your head just to watch something needy spring to life in his eyes. Then, you smile, leaning in close to his face with your mouth hovering over his. “Just one.”

You only manage to see a sliver of his lovestruck smile before he presses his lips to yours, your eyelids falling shut. You can just barely feel his sharp fangs brush against the skin of your lip, and the thought makes you croon into his mouth. A certain fondness blossoms behind your ribcage, and your lungs almost feel as though they’re too tight to breathe. He’s cold against you, and when he lifts his hand to cup your cheek, you shiver at the feeling of his icy skin against yours. Everything he does sends a chill rushing down your spine, but when you part just a moment later, you already feel yourself missing his touch.

Brushing his nose over yours, you feel him inhale sharply against you, and the breath he lets out is positively trembling. “God,” he whispers into the side of your face, his voice rasping ever so slightly, “you smell so good.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest at his words, and you feel warmth blossom across your collarbones. “I’m flattered,” you say gently, reaching a hand up to press against his shoulder. Instantly, he melts into your touch as you subtly shuffle back across your bed away from him. “But you’re the one who told me I’m not allowed to let you drink from me.”

His lips part for a moment, and you catch a gleam of the moonlight flashing across his fangs. Swallowing, he runs a hand through his hair and sighs with longing. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” His eyes dart up to meet yours, his gaze swimming with a deep, drowning sense of sorrow. “You know that I’d never, ever want to hurt you, right?”

A smile tugs on your lips, sincere and true. “Of course I do,” you murmur, “and I promise you that you won’t, even if you did drink from me.”

You pause for a moment, then slowly reach a hand up to your shoulder. You don’t miss the way his eyes widen at the sight, and you almost swear you catch an inkling of crimson swirling within his viridian gaze as you lean your neck to the side. “It’s okay if you want to, alright?” you whisper, swallowing.

His eyes are glued to your neck, and you can almost see the storm that rages just beneath his skin. Your chest aches at the thought, knowing just how conflicted he must feel right now. When he doesn’t move, you drop your hand back down to the bed, your gaze focused intently on his.

“I trust you,” you say, pouring every ounce of honesty you can into your words. “Can you trust yourself?”

For a moment, he simply stares at you, his lips parted as his emerald eyes rake you up and down. They’re wide with hunger, an expression you had seen many times before over the months, but not one you had become fully acquainted with. You fidget a little under his intense gaze, and you’re just about to open your mouth again when suddenly, his hands are reaching for yours on the bed.

You gasp as he intertwines his cool fingers between your warm ones, your heart leaping for joy. You let your eyelids flutter shut as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, drinking in your sweet scent as your warm breath tickles his cold skin. You love the quiet moments like this, the enamoured silences that envelop the two of you in your own little bubble as the world seems to slow down. Sucking in a breath, he shudders at your touch, his hand squeezing yours.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly for you and you alone to hear. “You’re too good to me.”

You smile at his words, your heart fluttering in your chest, but something uneasy sinks into the pit of your stomach at the bittersweet tone of his voice.

He didn’t answer your question, a voice whispers from the back of your head. Why didn’t he answer?

A moment later, you push the feeling away, nudging it back into the dark crevices of your mind. Instead, you choose to focus on the feeling of his skin pressing against yours, soothing and soft as you relish in the moment. The moon’s crescent frown seems to deepen from her perch in the sky, but she remains ever silent, only watching with her patient, pallid gaze.

You’re probably just imagining things.

After that night, time passes by you at an achingly slow pace. Night after night passes without a single sign of Clay, and before you even know it, a week and a half has flown past you without so much as a call. You text him as often as you can, and more often than not, you do actually get a response. Seeing the notification of his name pop up on your phone screen makes you smile until your cheeks hurt, and you’re always eager to hear back from him, but you can’t help but miss him as the hours drag on.

An empty, hollow feeling sinks into your chest as you curl up in your bed, the blankets strewn around you haphazardly as you blink over at the closed curtains draped over your balcony window. You haven’t bothered to look outside for a few nights, now—you already know that he won’t be there, as much as you want him to be. Even now, you can imagine his grinning face and teasing pokes as clear as day. The loneliness gnaws away at you as you turn onto your side, facing away from the window.

You hope he’s safe no matter what he’s up to, right now. You know better than anyone that sometimes, he can be a little too reckless for his own good.

Letting your eyes close, you sink into your pillow, a galaxy of stars whirling around your head as you slowly feel yourself drift off into a murky dream. Flashes of bright grins and the sound of wheezing laughter trickles through your thoughts, and you sigh at the endearing memories that wrap around your heart. You can almost swear you feel a pair of hands wrap around your own.

All of a sudden, something prods at the back of your ear, restless and sharp. Wincing, you blink a sleepy eye open, your bleary mind sorting through the sounds in your head before landing on one.

Glass—that’s the sound of glass.

Someone is tapping at your window.

Your eyes shoot wide open, and in a whirlwind, you’re ripping the covers off your body and pushing open your bedroom curtains. On the balcony stands a hooded figure, his golden tresses just barely peeking out from beneath the low-hanging cloth. You swallow and grab onto the door lock, slamming it open just a moment later. You shiver at the night breeze nipping at your skin, but in that moment, you couldn’t care less about the cold, your focus entirely devoted to one thing and one thing alone.

“Clay!” you cry, your eyes desperately scanning him up and down. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and instead, his hand reaches to the side to desperately grip onto the balcony railing, his knuckles turning white. Your eyebrows furrow with concern, and slowly, you take a step toward him. You haven’t even crossed the doorway separating the inside of your room to your balcony when he suddenly barks, “Stop!”

You freeze in place, your hand halfway reaching for his when he practically crumples against the railing, curling in on himself with a choked plea. “Wait,” he gasps, clutching at his chest with a ragged breath, “please. I’m—”

“Clay?” you breathe again, this time much quieter. You shuffle closer to the window glass, your toe just barely brushing against the doorframe. “Are you okay?”

All of a sudden, a snarl rips out of his throat, guttural and beastly. You flinch at the sound for a split second, the worry in your chest only making your heart shake even more. His grip on your balcony railing grows even tighter, and you don’t doubt that it’s going to leave a mark on the metal.

“Don’t come too close,” he pants, his thighs shaking beneath him. “I—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

You purse your lips at him, frustration and confusion digging at the sides of your stomach. “Then why did you come here?”

All is quiet, and he doesn’t respond. The only sound you can properly hear is his uneven breathing as he claws at the front of his hoodie, the fabric bunching beneath his touch. You flick your gaze over him again, and a cold realization suddenly washes over you.

“Clay,” you whisper, the tiniest hint of fear seeping into your voice, “when was the last time you had a proper drink?”

You are once again met with silence, but the way he suddenly stiffens does not go unnoticed by your watchful gaze. Something curls nervously inside your gut, and your lips curl into a frown as you dig your heel into the ground.

“Clay,” you say again, a little louder this time—a little more firmly. “How long has it been?”

There is a beat of silence. Then, he whispers so softly that it’s almost swept away by the wind, “...too long.”

A pang of sorrow shoots through you, a stone dropping into the pit of your stomach. You were right. He’s thirsty. A sigh escapes your throat as you open up your arms, beckoning him toward you. “Come here,” you murmur with all the softness you can muster. “Look at me.”

He shakes his head, and it’s then that you realize you haven’t seen his face this whole time. “Take off the hood,” you say gently. His shoulders tense at your request, and you quickly add a tender, “Please.”

His throat bobs as he gulps, and ever so slowly, his hands reach up to tug at his hood until suddenly, the moonlight is casting a glowing streak of silver across his face. Your eyes go wide.

His kind, lovely eyes, which are typically viridian green and swimming with adoration for you, are now painted a deep, scarlet red, his pupils dilated beyond belief as they lock onto yours.

In all the time you’ve known he was a vampire, you’ve never seen him like this before.

But strangely enough, you’re not afraid.

Instead, you gently reach for his hand, careful to only just lightly wrap your fingers around his. His gaze drops back to the ground again, and while you know he doesn’t have a pulse, if he did, you imagine that it would be going haywire right about now. “Oh, honey,” you whisper. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

Just as you begin to lead him inside to your room does he raise his chin once more, his jaw clenched tight as he takes in your soft, enamoured expression. As he steps inside, you reach behind him to slide the door shut before tugging him back toward your bed. Settling down on the mattress with a loose breath, you let go of his hand. His arms are still shaking at his side when he sits, and it’s then that you open your mouth again.

“Clay,” you say, your voice as clear as a bell, “you can drink from me.”

His crimson eyes widen, and the look he shoots you is one of pure, unadulterated panic. “I-I can’t,” he stammers.

“Yes,” you shoot back, reaching up for the collar of your shirt, “you can.” His eyes trace down the slope of your jaw before landing on the smooth skin of your neck, exposed and waiting for him. His Adam’s apple bobs, his hands squeezing into fists beside him. “It’ll be alright.”

“H-How do you know that?” he blurts, his nails digging into his palm. “What if—what if I lose control and hurt you?” His face blanches at the sight, and he slumps over onto his lap, hanging his head in his hands. “I can’t let that happen.”

You sigh, and he clams up at the softness of the sound. “And it won’t.”

A moment passes in aching, tense silence. You resist the urge to hug him, knowing that initiating any more contact with him would only make him panic even more. “Last time I was here,” he suddenly whispers, shattering the silence with his head ducked down, “you asked me if I trust myself.”

You blink at him as he slowly raises his head, turning his gaze to look at you head-on. “I don’t, [Y/N],” he whispers. “Not one bit.”

Your eyes flash in the darkness of your room, and before you can stop yourself, your mouth opens. “But I do.”

He goes stock still before you, and suddenly, the words are flowing from your lips in a rush, unstoppable and dripping with honesty. “I know you, Clay, and I know you won’t hurt me, no matter how scared you are that you might. I believe in you, and I believe in us.” You press your hand to your chest, your fingers curling over your beating heart. “I love how much you want to make sure I’m safe, but right now, I want to make sure that you’re safe, too.”

If you were looking a little closer, you would have seen the glossy sheen in Clay’s eyes as you tip your head to the side once more, your shirt collar tugged down your shoulder. You bite on the inside of your cheek, your fingers squeezing the sheets. His crimson eyes almost look soft in the glittering starlight of the night, and you feel your chest flood with heat.

“Please,” you croon, your eyes never leaving his. “Go on.”

He eyes you for a moment longer. Then, he’s crawling across the bed toward you, his shaking hand reaching for your shoulder. Gently, he turns you toward him, his other hand cupping your cheek. Slowly, you feel his nose brush against your jaw, something cold pressing against your skin.

“Thank you, darling,” he whispers.

Then, he sinks his fangs in.

A sting shoots up your neck at the feeling, just barely there and slightly sharp, but it’s most certainly nothing you can’t handle. Heat pools around your collar bones as he drinks and drinks, and you feel your eyelids flutter shut. His lips, which are usually cool and soft when they meet yours, feel oddly warm for once, and you sigh at the sensation of your blood pumping from your skin.

You aren’t quite sure how much time passes with him cradling you against him and his mouth lapping at the side of your neck, but soon enough, you can feel a slight dizziness flit around your skull. A soft whimper escapes your lips and instantly, he breaks away from you, his eyes wide with worry as you lean against him for support. You press your forehead against his shoulder for a brief second before sitting upright once more, blinking away the vignette tinting the edges of your vision. In front of you, Clay’s lips are stained with a faint shade of red, but his eyes have returned to the brilliant shade of green you know and love. He grips onto your shoulders a tad tighter than before, his hands reassuringly rubbing against up and down against your arms.

“Oh, [Y/N],” he breathes, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of harm. “I-I’m sorry if I was too rough or anything. I tried to be as gentle as I could, but god, you taste so sweet and I—”

You don’t let him finish his sentence. Before he can even blink, you’re pressing your mouth to his, your tongue swiping at the seam of his lips. The uncanny warmth of his lips against yours makes your head spin more than it was before, and you feel yourself smile against him when you pull back. You can taste the slight metallic tang of your own blood on your mouth as you flash him a grin, his eyes wide with adoration as he drinks in the sight of you sitting before him.

“I’m okay, Clay,” you say with an earnest look. Tilting your head at him, your tongue darts out to swipe at the corners of your mouth. “Are you?”

His eyes never leave yours as he reaches forward to slip your hand into his, his fingers slotting between your own. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Yes, yes, yes.”

His pale skin almost seems to glow in the dim light filtering through your balcony window, and he strokes his thumb over the back of your knuckles. Something inside you suddenly unravels as he tugs you into his chest, holding you close to him as his arms wrap around your backside. You feel him rest his chin atop your shoulder, and you melt into his cool touch. Just as you let yourself let out a loving, hazy sigh against his chest, you feel him whisper into the shell of your ear.

“Would you maybe let me... have another sip?”

[bcbdrums]

Victory

For a fellow Drakgo fan, it’s @dawhitebag‘s birthday tomorrow!  Happy birthday!!!

Inspired by three pieces of their art:  1, 2, and 3

Read on other sites:  FFn    AO3

Enjoy “Victory,” a tiny AU ending to So the Drama.

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

On the computer screen: destruction. Outside the building, a timely lightning storm that would have made any super-villain envious. And inside, standing before the screen, the mad scientist's head was thrown back in maniacal laughter.

Shego watched from the back of the room as henchmen seated at rows of computer consoles maintained careful control of the Li'l Diablos—Drakken's (finally) successful robots that had been his means of taking over the world. The big screen was cycling between news feeds from cities of various nations where armed forces were useless against Drakken's—for once—brilliant plan.

Or had they all been brilliant, and she had just never seen it before? In most every one of his previous plans, she had been over his shoulder, mocking him all the way. This time he had kept everything secret from her. He had said it was to make sure Kim Possible wouldn't discover it, but she wondered now... Had he shut her out so he could actually succeed?

She looked at Drakken's back, and the way he stood taller and prouder than she'd ever seen him. Hands on his hips as the well-tailored suit made clear the fact that the person who usually skulked in an over-sized blue lab coat was in fact a man, and one she realized she was spending more and more of her thoughts on. He turned then, and she noticed how the electric blue of the suit seemed to make his skin and eyes less corpse-like and more vibrant.

He was grinning at her, but not with the chaotic abandon she'd expected. Yes, his eyes held fire and glee, but there was also a knowing within the dark depths as he stared at her, and a desire to know. It sent her heart racing, and she instinctively straightened up from where she was leaned back against the wall. Usually when she let her thoughts stray from the professional to the impossible, it was he who fell uncomfortable under her gaze. But there was something different in his eyes; he had never looked at her that way before.

"Go get changed."

"E-Excuse me?" she answered with unexpected fluster.

"You should be on my level when we make our announcement about ruling the world," he said, gesturing broadly to his suit.

Her eyes widened. "We...?"

"Yes of course...unless... You don't want to make the announcement with me?"

He looked worried for the first time in days, and Shego quickly pushed off the wall and turned to go find something less side-kick and more...co-ruler of the world? Was that what he was saying?

"Give me a minute, I'll be right back."

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

Drakken replayed the image of Shego's retreating back with unease as his nerve-endings were tingling with a slow build of anxiety. He stared at the images on the computer screen, all revealing his triumph in explosive detail. He had hoped to impress her... He had hoped that taking over the world would show her he was more than he appeared, and certainly more than the losers she kept dating.

Recently she had acted more friendly toward him. She had even taken him up on an offer to get revenge against one of the gorillas who had dumped her. Evil bonding was a good secret first date, he had thought. And while she had certainly enjoyed it, and even seemed to enjoy his company...nothing changed beyond that.

He knew world domination was the only way to be worthy of her. But...he had succeeded, and she had yet to say a word about it. Would she reject the offer he was going to make her, of ruling the world together...? It was extremely risky, he knew, but over the past several months as he plotted and schemed, impressing her always at the front of his mind, he had come to realize... Shego was his world. He didn't want to do it without her.

The soft sound of Shego clearing her throat caused him to whirl around, and then his brow rose. She was dressed in the blouse and skirt set modeled after her costume that she had worn when they'd gone to see Brotherson at the Bermuda Triangle. And...she might have done something to her makeup, because her eyes were somehow more vibrant, and her hair was as luxurious as ever.

"This good?" she asked off-handedly, glancing down at the claws of her glove.

"Yes," he said, swallowing a lump in his throat and then clearing it. He hadn't expected her to wear...that, or anything so alluring and feminine. He tried to put back on his usual airs as he beckoned her forward with a small jerk of his head. "Perfect."

Shego seemed to hold her breath before moving, releasing it only when the clack of her heeled boots started eliminated the distance between them.

"Dunno why you need me for this," she said nonchalantly.

Drakken realized he was holding his breath too.

"I thought...you might enjoy more of a...leading role, now. Now that there's no reason to hide things anymore," he quickly justified his statement.

Shego looked up at him with a raised brow. "You mean...co-ruler?"

Drakken bit the inside of his cheek. He selfishly wanted to rule the world alone, but...this might be his only chance.

"I can think of none better," he said, holding his hand out to her not to shake, but palm up and open. He was glad for his gloves to hide his skin's clamminess.

Shego looked between his face and his hand. There was something unspoken in her eyes that made him nervous, and her too apparently as she glanced away to the brightness of the destruction still displayed on screen.

Her silence was causing his anxiety to rise and he rushed to fill it.

"We can...work out the details later."

Shego looked back at his hand, and then up into his eyes. He held her gaze, despite wanting to look away and make excuses for what he was saying. He was expecting the usual sarcastic quip or question of doubt, but instead she simply stared at him. She had never done that before, and he wanted to escape her verdant gaze as much as he longed to fall into it.

She slowly lifted her hand and set her gloved fingertips in his palm, her cheeks coloring as she did so. His lips parted in a silent gasp as her eyes suddenly filled with uncertainty at the same time she rose up on her toes.

Lightning flashed outside, and the next moment was a blur as her other hand was somehow resting on his shoulder and his other inexplicably on the bare flesh at her waist. He saw the flutter of her eyelashes just before her eyes closed, and then her lips pressed softly against his.

The moment was broken far too quickly as he became aware of more things: the orange reflective glow from the explosions on screen, the sudden silence in the room but for the storm outside as the henchmen all stared at them, and the way Shego's hand tightly gripped his.

When she pulled back from the too-brief glimpse into heaven, her eyes were worried and questioning. But not regretful. Drakken released his breath as he gripped her hand in return, a smile of unbridled joy blooming across his face that he couldn't have held back if he wanted to. Her expression changed to one of relief, hope, and excitement, and as he lifted his other hand from her waist to put behind her head and draw her back to the intimate moment, an answering smile filled her face.

The instant before their lips met they were startled from the moment by a resounding cheer, and they both turned to see the entire room of henchmen on their feet, applauding and shouting and a few even exchanging money over bets won and lost no doubt. Drakken ran his hand over his hair sheepishly, but the feel of Shego's hand looping through his arm drew his focus back to her and where she was smiling up at him, trying to maintain her usual air of confidence through the shy joy that had filled her eyes.

"Shego..." He wasn't sure what else he would have said, but the awed breathing of her name was all he could manage.

She cleared her throat, though it didn't do anything to mask the blush in her cheeks.

"Ruling the world?" she said softly.

Drakken blinked. "Right... Jameson!" he bellowed for the henchman, "Get ready for the broadcast!"

Drakken and Shego turned to face the computer screen that changed to show their image. He was startled by what he saw, as he had only ever seen it in his dreams before: Shego on his arm, her confidence, beauty, and intelligence...devoted to him.

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

Shego looked at Drakken's eyes through the video monitor where his assurance suddenly seemed to have faltered. Her heart was still racing from the impulsive kiss, but she couldn't have agreed to rule the world with him without knowing. But suddenly, something seemed to have changed.

"Dr. D.?" she asked softly, her fingers tightening on his arm in what she hoped was reassurance.

He blinked a few times and then looked down, anxiety rapidly joining the happiness in his eyes. His jaw worked for a moment before one word finally slipped out.

"Me...?"

Shego grinned. "Yes. You."

He seemed to calm, but then his brow furrowed. She cut him off before he could continue.

"Why me?" Drakken's brow rose in response. And again, she cut him off. "Probably similar reasons?"

Drakken considered, and Shego decided in a split-second to let her own remaining uncertainty show.

"We can...talk about all of it later. As long as you're sure...?"

Drakken grabbed her hand on his arm and held it tight, nodding firmly.

"Yes. I'm sure."

The laser-focus in his eyes was all the assurance she needed, and as her expression melted back to happiness she watched his shift into the same.

"So..." she sighed as she felt her nerves finally begin to calm, "talk later... But right now, I believe we have a broadcast to make?"

Drakken straightened, and his broad grin of victory returned.

"Yes," he said firmly, "we do."

Shego mirrored his devilish look as they faced the screen again, taking just a moment to survey the image that met them once more. Side by side, and arm in arm... She honestly wondered what had taken them so long.

Drakken turned and nodded at the henchman waiting to begin the live broadcast to the world that they now owned. He turned back and gave Shego that same knowing grin that had spurred her to action. She returned it in kind.

"Let's do it!"

[thelazyhermits]

Touching Hearts

As I mentioned in this post, I’ve finally started watching season 4 of the anime, and because of that, I’m remembering things I had forgotten about since it’s been a while since I last read about those arcs in the manga.

One such thing I forgot about was how beat up Todoroki and Bakugou get from their provisional license training, which is mentioned at the beginning of the Overhaul arc, so I decided to write a scene focused on that which takes place directly after chapter 38 of TABF.

I hope y’all enjoy it! ^-^

After you convince Yagi to meet with Nighteye, the retired hero nervously calls his former sidekick in hopes to arrange a meeting with him. Much to his surprise, Nighteye quickly agrees and says you both can come by tomorrow afternoon.

Of course, you aren’t nearly as surprised as Yagi is. After all, there’s no way a diehard All Might fan like Nighteye could ever turn down a request from the former number one hero himself. Plus, you’re sure that he was happy to hear that Yagi wanted to speak with him, even though you bet he’s wondering what the reason behind the visit is since Yagi didn’t go into details.

Once that meeting has been set up and you’ve properly cleaned your tear-stained face, you and Yagi make arrangements to set up a meeting with Nedzu and Aizawa to let them know about the current situation at hand.

As expected, neither Nedzu or Aizawa are thrilled when they hear the news of Nighteye’s impending death, and the latter especially dislikes the thought of you trying to prevent it because of your drawback. 

Thankfully, in the end, you and Yagi manage to convince him to allow you both to meet with Nighteye tomorrow since you can’t just ignore your vision. You have to do something.

However, it takes a while to do that, so by the time you finally start heading back to the dorm, you’re completely exhausted, emotionally because of that horrific vision you had about Nighteye, mentally because of that meeting with Aizawa, and physically since you had training with Shinsou after that meeting finally concluded. 

That’s why you have every intention to go to bed early tonight, so you’ll be well-rested for tomorrow’s meeting with Nighteye. And you’re honestly just too tired to do anything besides cook dinner at this point, well anything except for giving Midoriya a big hug, of course, since you know he had an equally rough day and you will never be too tired to shower him with the affection and support he deserves. Plus, hugging him always makes you feel better, so it’s only natural that you take every opportunity to do so, especially on a day like today.

While you follow through with your plan to hug Midoriya once you return to the dorm, your plans to turn in early tonight end up changing when dinner comes and goes without you seeing Bakugou or Todoroki. Apparently, since it’s Sunday, today’s provisional license training is an all day affair.

Aizawa had told you as much earlier today, but you didn’t think he literally meant all day, considering how early the boys left this morning. Naturally, that just makes you wonder what kind of training they are going through that lasts from sunrise to sunset, obviously the really intense kind.

No doubt Todoroki and Bakugou will be exhausted by the time they return to the dorm. You just hope they won’t be too battered and beaten since you heard from the other UA teachers that Ganga Orca is a tough instructor.

Since you’re worried about your students, you can’t bring yourself to go to bed until they safely return to the dorm. That’s why, when everyone else turns in for the night, you remain in the living room and wait for the boys.

Fortunately, you don’t have to wait long since Bakugou and Todoroki both arrive shortly after their classmates turn in for the night. When they do, you discover that your wish for them to not be too battered and beaten was in vain.

With a gasp, you hurry over to the surprised boys, so you can get a better look at their injuries. “Are you two alright?! I heard Ganga Orca was a tough instructor, but I didn’t think you two would come back looking this beat up!”

Todoroki blinks, “We’re alright. None of our injuries are serious.”

He tilts his head. “What are you doing still up, Sensei? I thought everyone would be asleep by now.”

Frowning, you gently cup his injured cheek as you examine the damage done to his handsome face. “I didn’t want to go to bed before you two got home, and I’m glad I didn’t since you both need to get these injuries treated before you go to bed.”

Bakugou huffs, “You’re overreacting. These are just scratches. They’re nothing to make a big deal about.”

“Even so, we can’t ignore them.” You reply as you pull your hand away from Todoroki’s face. “So, after you two have eaten dinner, I’ll help you take care of them.”

Just as you turn to head for the kitchen, a question comes to mind, making you pause. “Or do you guys need to take a shower first?”

Todoroki shakes his head. “They had shower stalls at the building where our training was held, so we took showers after we changed out of our hero costumes.”

“Good.” You resume heading toward the kitchen. “In that case, just take a seat at the dining table, and I’ll bring out the food I set aside for you two.”

Rather than oblige, Bakugou drops the briefcase carrying his hero costume and follows after you. “I can carry my own fucking food. You don’t need to bring it to me.”

After Todoroki copies his classmate’s actions, he adds, “I can carry mine too. You don’t have to go out of your way for our sake, Sensei.”

Obviously, these two aren’t as exhausted as you first thought if they have enough energy to argue with you. You suppose you should take that as a good sign.

“Alright.” You huff, “I’ll show you what all I set aside for you in the fridge, and then, I’ll take care of getting some drinks for us.”

Not long after that, the three of you find yourselves at the dining table. While your students eat their food, you just drink from the water bottle you grabbed for yourself.

Rather than try talking to your students, you just watch them devour the food you prepared for them since they’re obviously more interesting in eating than chatting. You had expected they would have strong appetites after the long day they had, and you were right. It’s a good thing you made sure to prepare ample portions for them.

Once he has gotten through half of his meal, Shouto finally takes notice of what Bakugou is eating and tilts his head curiously. “I didn’t notice this earlier, but Bakugou and I are eating completely different meals. Why is that? Shouldn’t these just be leftovers from tonight’s dinner?”

Apparently, Bakugou didn’t notice that either, judging from the way he pauses his eating to examine his and his classmate’s dinner. When the blond later turns to raise an eyebrow at you, you chuckle, “Those aren’t leftovers from tonight’s dinner. Those are dishes I made after dinner.”

A grin forms on your lips. “I wanted to make you each your favorite foods once I realized what a long day you would be having since I wanted to make sure your day ended on a good note. After all, nothing’s better than eating food that you love after a long day, right?”

The corners of Todoroki’s lips tilt slightly upwards. “That’s true. My day definitely improved thanks to your delicious soba. Thank you, Sensei.”

As you return the ice user’s smile, Bakugou returns his attention to his food. “Your spicy food still isn’t anywhere near the level of spiciness my cooking has, but it’s not bad.”

An amused huff escapes you. “Thanks, and I’ll be sure to keep the spice level in mind the next time I make something spicy for you.”

Once that conversion concludes, the boys resume eating. Since it shouldn’t be long until they finish, you leave the table to collect the first aid kit that’s kept in the kitchen, so you can be ready to treat their injuries once they finish eating.

Fortunately, even though you know Bakugou finds your mothering to be annoying, he doesn’t try to make a break for it as soon as he and Todoroki finish eating. Instead, the blond takes care of cleaning his dishes and throws away his trash like his classmate does before returning to the dining table.

When you give him an approving smile after he takes a seat at the table, Bakugou scowls at you in return, but thankfully, he doesn’t do anything else. Still, you know he’ll be far from a model patient, so you decide to save him for last since you know Todoroki won’t give you any trouble.

Just as you expected, Todoroki just quietly sits at the table as you begin treating all of his injuries, only speaking whenever you ask him if he’s in any pain. Each time you ask him if your actions are hurting him, he assures you that he’s fine much to your relief.

That relief quickly turns tino frustration when you begin treating the scrapes on Todoroki’s face. “Honestly, what was Ganga Orca thinking, allowing such a handsome face to get injured like this? If the ladies of Japan saw you looking like this, they would all cry!”

Todoroki’s eyes widen slightly. “Really? How come?”

While Bakugou rolls his eyes, you answer, “Because nothing is sadder to a girl than seeing a handsome guy’s face get ruined! Looks like yours should be treasured, not treated like this! Doesn’t Ganga Orca realize a face like yours will eventually become one of Japan’s greatest treasures?!”

He continues to stare at you in amazement. “I didn’t realize my face was so important.”

Bakugou scoffs, “It’s not. Sensei’s just exaggerating. The only thing that stands out about your face is how fucking annoying it is.”

Just as you’re about to scold the hothead for his words, an idea comes to mind, making you grin. “Aw, Bakugou, is that jealousy I hear? Are you upset that I'm complimenting Todoroki’s face and not yours?”

His face reddens. “Hah?! Don’t be stupid! Like I give a fuck about that!”

Your grin grows. “I dunno. You sure sounded jealous to me.”

“There’s no need to be jealous, Bakugou.” Todoroki calmly says, “You have a nice face too.”

While you snort at Todoroki’s innocent compliment, Bakugou glowers at him. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me, Half-and-Half?! I’ll kill you!”

Confused, Todoroki tilts his head. “No? Why would you think that?”

Before Bakugou can retort, you intervene. “Todoroki is right, though. You do have a handsome face just like he does, Bakugou.”

With a grin, you add, “Although, I’m worried about it going to waste, considering how much you’re always scowling. You know, if you keep making faces like that, your face might get stuck like that forever.”

Todoroki frowns, “That wouldn’t be good. You should be careful, Bakugou, so that won’t happen.”

As you fight the urge to laugh at the stoic boy’s show of genuine concern, Bakugou’s scowl deepens. “It won’t! So, fuck off! Nobody asked for either of your opinions!”

Chuckling, you finish up bandaging the rest of Todoroki’s injuries. “Just giving you a friendly warning. After all, you want to surpass All Might, don’t you?”

Bakugou raises an eyebrow at you. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

Once you’ve taken care of Todoroki, you begin tending to the blond’s injuries, taking full advantage of his distraction caused by your earlier comment. “In order to fully surpass All Might, you have to beat him in all aspects, right? Well, that obviously means you’ll have to have a smile that can outshine his, don’t you think?”

“That makes sense.” Todoroki agrees, “After all, when anyone thinks of All Might, one of the first things that come to mind is his smile since it’s so iconic.”

You give him a wink. “Exactly! If anyone ever hopes to beat All Might, then they better have a smile that can rival his. Otherwise, he’ll always remain number one in that category.”

When you return your focus to Bakugou, you see him frowning, wearing a contemplative expression. Obviously, he’s taking your words into serious consideration. 

Smiling, you finish bandaging one of his scrapes before ruffling his hair, making him scowl. “You’re amazing, Bakugou. There’s no question about that. You’re strong, smart, and talented among many other things.”

“However,” You raise a finger. “there is one important ability you and Todoroki both need to master before either of you can become the kind of pro hero who can surpass All Might.”

While Bakugou raises an eyebrow at you, Todoroki curiously asks, “And what ability is that?” 

Your earlier smile returns as you turn to point at his and Bakugou’s chests. “The ability to capture people’s hearts by touching their hearts and making your own hearts more apparent to the people you’re trying to protect.”

Noticing their twin looks of confusion, you elaborate, “The reason All Might was such an amazing hero wasn’t just because he was strong and talented. It was because he was amazing at touching people’s hearts by showing them his own.”

You rest a hand over your heart. “All Might gave people hope because they knew that no matter what he would always protect them, not just because he was the strongest but because he genuinely cared about everyone. Everyone could tell that he would always go beyond Plus Ultra to protect them because he considered them all equally important.”

Your expression softens. “That’s how I felt whenever I watched him on TV and in my visions. I could see how much he cared about others and how nothing was more important to him than maintaining the peace and giving others hope.”

When you lift your gaze to look at your students, you see them watching you intently, wearing contemplative expressions, proving that they’re deeply considering your words.

“Real heroes have the ability to not only save people’s lives but also their hearts,” You softly say, “and to some people, the latter is the most important ability a hero can have.”

“And that includes you?” Bakugou solemnly asks as he holds your gaze.

The corners of your lips curve upwards. “It does, because I wouldn’t have made it this far if it weren’t for heroes that could save people’s hearts. That’s why I hope that you promising heroes-to-be will one day master that ability too.”

“I use the term ‘master’ because I’ve already experienced firsthand you both using such an ability. Although, I’m sure it wasn’t really intentional on either of your parts.” You add, earning some surprised looks from your students.

As you’re speaking, you think back to the I-Island incident and how Todoroki refused to leave your side and was determined to get you the medical attention you needed. Then, your memories drift toward the villain attack at the summer camp and how Bakugou refused to abandon you, even though it meant putting himself at risk.

Your smile softens. “One day, you both will able to intentionally touch people’s hearts in the same way you did mine. I have complete confidence in both of you since I know there’s nothing you two can’t do if you put your minds to it, so I have no doubt that you’ll both become amazing heroes that can outshine even All Might.”

For several seconds, your students just stare at you with slightly widened eyes, and then, Bakugou smirks, “Of course, I fucking will! I’m the guy who’s gonna be the next number one hero who surpasses All Might in every shape and form! I’ll master every fucking aspect of being a hero there is, so I’ll be the unequivocal number one!”

Todoroki nods, “I’ll work hard too, Sensei, to become a hero who can save lives and hearts. I won’t let you down.”

Grinning, you reach over to ruffle their hair. “I know. You two are always meeting and surpassing my expectations. This time won’t be any different.”

Both boys’ eyes gain a pleased gleam at your words, but Bakugou tries to hide it by averting his gaze. Rather than tease him about it, you just resume taking care of the rest of his injuries. 

As you’re doing this, Todoroki asks, “Do you think our training for our provisional licenses will help us get a better understanding of touching people’s hearts, or is that something we’re supposed to learn during our lessons here at UA?”

You hum thoughtfully. “I’m not sure what all the training for your provisional licenses entails, so I can’t say for sure about that. But as far as your school lessons are concerned, I’m sure you’ll eventually get lessons focused on that aspect of heroics. Although, I would think heroes-in-training would mostly get those kinds of lessons when they’re out in the field.”

Bakugou tilts his head. “Because it means interacting with actual civilians?”

Nodding, you give him an approving smile. “Exactly. The best way for heroes to touch people’s hearts is by learning how to understand the people they’re protecting, which happens by getting closer to them. Doing this helps both parties come to learn more about each other, which leads to trust building between them.”

After you finish tending to the last of Bakugou’s injuries, you begin putting up everything that you took out of the first aid kit. “Trust is key to touching people’s hearts. It’s important that you both become the kind of hero that people know they can trust and rely on no matter what happens.”

Once everything has been put away, you turn to face your students and smile, “You both have already proven to me that you’re strong and capable heroes that I can rely on and trust. Now, you just have to figure out how to do that with everyone else. It won’t be easy since social interactions aren’t really either of your forte, but I know you both can do it.”

While Todoroki gives you a determined nod, Bakugou just averts his gaze with a huff. “Obviously.”

Getting an idea, you cheerfully clap your hands together. “However, as your teacher, I shouldn’t make you do all that hard work without, at least, first imparting a little helpful advice.”

Once you have their undivided attention, you continue, “Obviously, as I mentioned before, one of the main things you both need to do is develop your own hero smile, so by the time you guys graduate, you must have a smile that can put everyone’s hearts at ease.”

As expected, Bakugou makes a face at your words while Todoroki just gives you another nod. Obviously, that one task in itself is going to be difficult for them due their personalities and typical demeanors, but you know smiling isn’t impossible for them. It’s just not something they choose to often do.

There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, as far as their daily lives are concerned. It’s only when they’re on the field, working as pro heroes, that they need to be able to implement what you consider to be one of a hero’s most important assets.

Once you’ve reaffirmed the importance of that ability, you decide to share the idea you came up with earlier. “Another important thing you two should work on is communicating with the people you’re supposed to protect in a way that will assure them that everything will be alright now that you’re there for them.”

With a grin, you wink, “And you should also make good use of those good looks you both have while you’re at it to win their hearts over even more.”

While Bakugou raises an eyebrow at you, Todoroki gives you a curious look. “How do we do that?”

Your grin grows. “I’ll show you! Just pretend you’re a civilian who got caught up in a villain attack, alright?”

Once you get a nod from him, you grab Todoroki’s hands and hold them in between yours. As he stares at you with a mixture of surprise and confusion, you hold his gaze and give him the most reassuring smile you can muster. “It’ll be alright. You’re safe now. I’m here, so you don’t need to worry anymore. I’ll protect you no matter what. I won’t let anyone lay a single finger on you.”’

You give his hands a reassuring squeeze as your smile softens. “So, don’t be scared. A look like that doesn’t suit your handsome face. The world would be much better off if you were smiling instead since a smile like yours can make even the darkest of days seem bright. That’s why I’ll fight with everything I have to protect that precious smile; I won’t let anyone ever take it away, I promise.”

While Bakugou gapes at you, Todoroki stares at you with slightly widened eyes. Obviously, you caught them both completely off guard with your performance.

When a few seconds pass without a response, you release Todoroki’s hands and grin, “So, what do you think, Todoroki? Did I make your heart skip a beat just now?”

He rests a hand over his heart. “There weren’t any irregularities with my heartbeat, but…”

“But?” You parrot, tilting your head curiously.

“My chest feels very warm now, all of a sudden.” Todoroki replies, “How strange.”

Giggling, you ruffle his hair. “That’s what it means to touch people’s hearts, Todoroki. That’s the kind of reaction you should be aiming for when you interact with the people you’re trying to protect.”

His expression appears thoughtful. “Come to think of it, I remember feeling similarly whenever I watched All Might on TV when I was a child. So, this is what it means to touch people’s hearts.”

Todoroki lifts his gaze to meet yours and gives you a small smile. “Thank you for showing me that, Sensei. I promise I’ll make good use of your example and your advice.”

“I have no doubt that you will.” You pat his head. “I have high hopes for you, Todoroki.”

When you later pull your hand away from his head, Todoroki adds, “I promise I’ll also take better care of my face in the future since I don’t want you or any of the other ladies of Japan to cry.”

A laugh escapes you. “Good to hear! You gotta take good care of that face of yours since it’s gonna be one of your greatest assets when you’re a pro hero.”

Bakugou, who has been quiet all this time, finally breaks his silence with a scoff. “Only if he ever learns how to stop being so fucking annoying all the time.”

While you give him an exasperated look, Bakugou rises to his feet and asks, “Are we done here, Sensei?”

With a sigh, you nod, “Yeah, I’m done treating both of your injuries, so you two are free to go. Sorry for keeping you both up when I’m sure you’re both beyond exhausted.”

Todoroki shakes his head. “You don’t need to apologize. If anything, we should be thanking you for staying up late for our sake. Right, Bakugou?”

The blond clicks his tongue. “Whatever.”

While the boys move to collect their briefcases containing their hero costumes, you quickly return the first aid kit to the kitchen before rejoining them in the living room. As you all begin heading for the elevators, you ask, “So, what did you think of the example I provided for Todoroki, Bakugou? Do you think that’s something you can do?”

“Of course, I can!” Bakugou huffs, “There’s nothing I can’t do, so I won’t have any issue doing something like that.”

Even though he says that, you have a feeling accomplishing such a task will be more difficult than he thinks once he finally tries it out, considering his less than ideal social skills. While you have full faith in him, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll struggle with this aspect of heroics for at least a little while since it’s completely foreign territory to him.

“I’m not as confident as Bakuguou since I’m not used to doing something like that, but I’m going to work hard.” Todoroki comments, “Hopefully, by the time we get our provisional licenses, I’ll be ready to try touching people’s hearts.”

“It might take you a little while, but you’ll definitely get there, Todoroki.” You assure him. “Until then, just keep working hard and doing your best like you always do.”

Around that time, the three of you come to a stop in front of the elevators. Just as you’re about to hit the button for the elevator you’ll be taking, you suddenly realize you had almost forgotten something very important. “I almost forgot!”

Both Todoroki and Bakugou, who were about to enter the elevator which will take them to the boys’ side of the dorm, pause at your exclamation. 

Before either of them can question you, you reach over to pat their heads, smiling all the while. “Welcome home, Bakugou, Todoroki. Good work today. I’m proud of you both.”

The two stare at you with surprise for a brief moment, and then, their features relax.

A slight smile rises to Todoroki’s lips. “I’m home, Sensei. Also, thank you for dinner and for taking care of my injuries.”

Bakugou averts his gaze. “I’m home.”

After a brief pause, he then mutters, “And thanks.”

Immediately, after those two words passes his lips, Bakugou hurries into the elevator before you can say anything else. Not wanting to be left behind, Todoroki quickly follows after him. 

Chuckling, you give them a parting wave. “Good night, you two. See you in the morning.”

Just before the elevator door closes, Todoroki returns the parting. You don’t hear anything from Bakugou, but you figure that’s to be expected. 

With a smile, you turn to enter the elevator that will take you to the girls’ side of the dorm. As you’re riding the elevator, you think back to the discussion you had with Todoroki and Bakugou.

Those two definitely both have the potential to become the kinds of heroes that can save people’s hearts. It won’t be easy, but I have full faith that they can overcome any obstacles that come their way.

Just as you think that, your Quirk activates, showing you a vision of your students in the midst of their provisional license training.

Feeling a mixture of amused and surprised, you watch as Ganga Orca declares that Bakugou, Todoroki, Inasa, and the girl Toga impersonated, Utsushimi  Camie, all have to participate in a special training where they have to win the hearts of a bunch of primary schoolers since he says what the heroes-in-training need is “heart”.

Seems like Ganga Orca and I were on the same page. What are the chances?

Looks like Todoroki will be getting a lesson on touching people’s hearts during his provisional license training after all. Unfortunately for him, it won’t be an easy lesson, considering how those primary schoolers have no interest in listening to anyone, not even the teacher they came with.

Of course, you still believe that your students can accomplish such a lofty task. You just have no idea how since you hadn’t considered giving them lessons on how to talk to small children.

That’s why you’re very eager to see what happens next in this vision since you want to see what your students will do. Just how will they win these children’s hearts?

Unfortunately, you don’t get all the details you were hoping for since a time skip occurs in your vision, preventing you from seeing how Todoroki and Bakugou will react to the crazy situation Ganga Orca has put them in.

Your disappointment doesn’t last long, however, when, after the time skip, you see all the children happily playing with the four students in charge of winning them over. 

All you can do is smile when you see all the smiling primary schoolers playing on large ice slides that were obviously made by Todoroki. Those are some great smiles you put on their faces, Todoroki. Good job. I knew you could do it.

Your smile grows when you see Bakugou telling a kid that he won’t be able to recognize his own weaknesses if he’s always looking down on others. Well said, Bakugou. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.

Around that time, your vision comes to an end, just as the elevator doors open. As you move to exit the elevator, an immense rush of pride washes over you, making you beam.

You’re amazing, Todoroki, Bakugou. You two really can do anything when you set your minds to it. Looks like you’re gonna soon be one step closer to becoming the heroes you’re both striving to become.

And you couldn’t be more proud.

[littlespoonevan]

YES ANON!!!! lip and mickey becoming friends is the only thing i want in this whole world!!!!! i hope you like it <3

*

Mickey cranes his neck to tip his head against the back of the couch when he hears the front door open. Lip slips through a moment later, strolling into the living room and coming to a complete stop when he takes in the sight of them on the couch.

His eyes go from Ian, fast asleep and curled into Mickey’s side with one leg draped over Mickey’s and an arm thrown across his stomach, to Mickey who just stares up at him expectantly. “Hey?” he says pointedly.

Lip’s blank expression disappears only to be replaced by a shit-eating grin. “Hey,” he replies on a laugh, coming around the couch to drop into the armchair. “You two havin’ some quality time?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

Mickey rolls his eyes, absently tightening his arm around Ian’s middle. “He had a long shift.”

Lip’s expression changes then, just slightly, into something a little more like brotherly concern. “He okay?”

Mickey glances down, feeling his cheek hit Ian’s forehead where his face is buried against Mickey’s neck. “Yeah, there was a pileup downtown or something. Sounded bad.”

Lips winces and Mickey nods in agreement before narrowing his eyes, taking in the fact that Lip is sans baby for once. “The fuck you doin’ here anyway?”

“Tami took Fred over to Cami’s for a couple of hours and I wanted a break from inhaling sawdust,” Lip explains, cracking his back and settling back more comfortably into the chair.

Mickey hums in acknowledgement. He and Ian have been helping here and there with the renovations when they get the time but the place looked like a fucking bombsite the last time Mickey had been there.

“Where is everyone?” Lip asks then, glancing idly around as if only just realising Mickey and Ian have the place to themselves.

“Carl took Liam out for food,” Mickey says. “Dunno where Debbie is but Franny’s with her so it’s just me and fuckin’ Sleeping Beauty over here,” he adds, mouth curling up in an involuntary smile as he runs a hand through Ian’s hair. He’d been looking forward to some alone time but Ian had all but collapsed against him when he came home and, well, Mickey can’t say he hates this either.

He doesn’t realise right away that Lip isn’t answering but when he looks back up from Ian he sees Lip’s smirk from before is back.

“Man, back when I first found out about you two I never fucking thought I’d see this,” he snorts. “You’d shiv someone just for looking at you wrong.”

Mickey huffs a laugh. “I wasn’t that fuckin’ bad. C’mon, by the time you found out I was practically a model citizen.”

Lip raises an eyebrow, a confused smile on his face. “When exactly do you think I found out?”

Mickey frowns. Neither Ian nor Lip has ever said when Lip knew but Mickey still remembers the day Lip had come around asking about Ian. You gonna make me say it? “When Ian took off, right? Or like, when I brought him home.”

Lip’s incredulous expression tells him that’s not the right answer and Mickey feels his frown deepen. “The wedding?” He knows Mandy found out then – he guesses it’s not beyond the realm of possibility Lip had found out at the same time.

Lip barks out a laugh, seemingly deciding to take pity on him. “Mickey, I knew pretty much since the beginning.”

What?

“What?” he demands, leaning forward until Ian snuffles against him, making him carefully ease back into his original position.

Lip nods, looking thoroughly amused. “Well, almost the beginning,” he amends. “I’ve known since you went to juvie that time after Kash shot you. Ian kinda word-vomited it all out one day.”

And that’s- Lip’s known the entire time? And he never said anything? Never outed Mickey – to anyone, as far as Mickey knows. Sure, they get along now but there was a long fuckin’ time where Lip hated him – Mickey’s finding it hard to get his head around the fact Lip never tried to hold it against him.

“You really knew this whole time and didn’t say anything?” he asks, the question coming out quieter than he means it to be.

“Yeah,” Lip shrugs. “Wasn’t my secret to tell, man.”

Mickey knows Lip isn’t actually a bad person, knows that the majority of Lip’s dislike towards him in the past was protectiveness over Ian – though at least 10% had to just be him being an asshole – but still. This is a revelation Mickey never expected to have – teenage Lip Gallagher secretly saving his ass every goddamn day and looking for nothing in return? Sounds fucking fake.

“You didn’t even tell Mandy?” he presses because he never actually asked Mandy how she found out in the end and she and Lip were together just beforehand.

Lip shakes his head. “She overheard Ian talking to me at the wedding; that’s how she knew,” he explains and judging by the look on his face, it’s not the whole story. But Mickey drops it.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” Lip continues, “Ian woulda fuckin’ murdered me if I’d done anything to mess up what was happening between you two. You gotta admit if you’d found out I knew back then you probably would’ve ended shit.”

And Mickey hates even acknowledging it but Lip’s probably right. He doesn’t think he would’ve been able to stay away because he’s never been able to stay away from Ian. But it still would’ve fucked stuff up for a while. He can’t decide if it would’ve been better or worse than that time Frank found out. He runs a soothing hand over Ian’s back then, a silent comfort for himself and a silent apology to Ian.

“You’re right,” he mutters eventually, meeting Lip’s gaze and feeling uncomfortable with how serious everything suddenly feels. “Thanks for not sayin’ anything, I guess.”

“It’s cool,” Lip replies quietly, a hint of a smile reappearing on his face. “If teenage Mickey Milkovich could see you now, huh?”

Mickey shakes his head, letting out a reluctant laugh. “He wouldn’t fucking believe it.”

Ian chooses that moment to shift against him, nuzzling further into Mickey’s neck for a moment before lifting his head and blinking blearily. “Mm, sorry for passing out,” he mumbles, kissing Mickey on autopilot and Mickey stills gets a tiny thrill at how shit like that has just become a  natural reaction.

Ian smiles at him when he pulls back before his eyes catch on Lip in the armchair. He sits up a little more but still leans most of his weight on Mickey. “When did you get here?”

“Not long ago,” Lip answers and the smug asshole expression from before is back. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your love fest.”

Mickey rolls his eyes again and hears Ian scoff. “You’re just jealous we can sleep uninterrupted without a baby waking us up every five minutes,” Ian retorts around a yawn, head falling back against Mickey’s shoulder.

Lip raises an eyebrow. “You live in our house – sleep is never fucking uninterrupted here.”

And ain’t that the fuckin’ truth, Mickey thinks resignedly. Even with a room to themselves everyone always wants something because apparently they’re the only functioning adults in this house.

(Which is true, but still.)

Ian makes a dismissive sound. “What were you two talking about anyway?”

Lip opens his mouth to blurt out something stupid, no doubt, so Mickey makes sure to get there first. “How apparently you spilled all your secrets to Lip when I want to juvie the first time.”

Ian freezes against him, raising his head and glancing nervously from Lip to Mickey. Eventually he seems to decide nobody looks angry because the anxious look leaves his face and his shoulder relax. “I needed to tell someone about my crush. He was the best option I had.”

Mickey laughs, chest feeling warm, and Lip makes a noise that’s exaggeratedly offended.

“Fuck you, I gave you great advice!” Lip exclaims and Mickey highly doubts that, honestly.

Ian and Lip start bickering then, Ian sitting up straighter as he becomes more animated but still staying in the circle of Mickey’s arms. Mickey lets their voices wash over him, watching Ian amusedly as he tries to let the information he learned in the past half hour sink in.

He can’t say what would’ve happened if Lip had said anything back then – if things would’ve been better or worse – but either way, he’s grateful. And either way he counts himself fucking lucky that they all somehow managed to end up here.

*

[nighting-gale17]

Eddie and Buck go for a parent-teacher interview, for Chris of course, together. The teacher asks if they are together, and Buck is left to evaluate his relationship with Eddie.

Wow this got SUPER far away from me. I honestly was planning on it being very short and it... isn’t lol. anyway, hope you enjoy it! I’ll maybe get around to posting it on AO3 at some point

Attending a parent-teacher conference wasn’t exactly how Buck planned on spending his Tuesday on his day off, but he’d be lying if he said he wished it was different. Eddie would hopefully be showing up soon—they’d caught a bad call close to the end of his shift which is why Buck was here in Eddie’s place.

Buck watched fondly as Christopher drew on the table a few feet away, his tongue poking out slightly with his face creased deep in concentration. The tongue thing was a bad habit he’d picked up from, or so Eddie liked to tease him.

“Christopher has been doing very well in his classes so far, we’re very proud of the progress he’s been making.” The teacher, Miss Bright, stood at his side, glancing from Christopher over to Buck with a small smile on her face.

“That’s good,” Buck murmured. “I know everything’s been… a lot, but Eddie was really adamant on making sure his daily life routine wasn’t disturbed too much.”

Miss Bright nodded, her expression turning serious and slightly sad. “Yes, we’ve noticed Christopher’s aversion toward water. Not out of the ordinary, of course, many students are having similar issues after the tsunami. Don’t worry, we’re doing everything we can to ensure they always feel comfortable and safe while they’re here. As for the daily routine,” she continued, a smile growing on the corner of her lips, “I think a little disruption isn’t always bad, especially with how happy Christopher has been lately in class.”

“What do you mean?” Buck asked, more than a little confused as he turned to the teacher.

“Oh, I just mean, I know how difficult it can be sometimes for kids to adjust to a new parental figure, especially when they start living together,” Miss Bright explained with a smile. “But I’m sure that the addition to his routine can only be positive for him.”

New parental figure? Living together? Buck’s brows furrowed in confusion, mouth opening to correct her that no, he wasn’t Chris’ other father and he hadn’t moved in with them, but he was interrupted by Eddie entering the room in a rush.

“Hey, so sorry I’m late,” Eddie said in a rush, coming up to Buck’s side. His hair was a mess, still in his LAFD uniform, and there was a smudge of smoke on his cheek.

Buck bit back a laugh and reached up with his thumb, wiping the smudge off his cheek until it was mostly gone. “It’s all good, Eds. Am I going to have to call Athena to find out about a speeding ticket?” he teased.

Color rose in Eddie’s cheeks but he just rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the teacher, a polite smile on his face. “Again, I apologize for being late—”

“These things happen, I understand,” Miss Bright reassured him. “My partner is an officer, so I’m used to the sudden changes in plans. I was just telling your partner, Christopher has been doing wonderful in his classes, though he has gotten a bit shy interacting with the other kids during our outside activities. Nothing to be concerned about, his friend Tyler is always at his side.”

“Yeah, he and Tyler are best buddies.” Eddie agreed with a smile. “Was there anything else?”

“Nope, that’s all. Christopher is a model student, I love having him in class.” Miss Bright assured them.

Buck perked up when he saw Christopher slowly walking toward them without his crutches, a beaming smile on his face. “Daddy!” he said happily, holding out his arms for Eddie.

“Hey, buddy!” Eddie grinned as he picked him up. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. Ice-cream?” he asked hopefully, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulders.

“I dunno bud, you’ll have to convince your Buck about that.” Eddie teased, looking up at Buck with a soft look on his face that made his heart skip a beat. Then, of course, Christopher gave him those brown puppy eyes (which he definitely didn’t learn from Buck) and, well, how was he supposed to say no?

Buck let out an exaggerated sigh, happiness warming his chest. “I suppose it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

Christopher cheered and Buck chuckled, shaking his head as he turned back to the teacher with the smile still on his face. “Thank you, it was really nice meeting you.”

“Of course.” Miss Bright gave them a beaming smile. “It was so wonderful to finally meet Eddie’s new husband.”

Husband?

The word suddenly hit him with the force of a tsunami, hours later when Christopher was sleeping quietly in his room and he and Eddie were drinking a couple beers on the couch. It felt like the world stopped moving for a minute. Suddenly, their conversation seemed to take a completely different turn.

The teacher thought he and Eddie were married, and that Buck was moving in with them, and that’s the disruption in Christopher’s routine she had been talking about.

“She thought we were married!” Buck exclaimed suddenly, turning toward his best friend with wide eyes, interrupting whatever ballgame Eddie had been talking about.

“What are you talking about?” Eddie asked, tilting his head slightly in confusion.

“Christopher’s teacher!” Suddenly Buck was on his feet, beer forgotten on the coffee table as he paced. “She thought we were married! And that I’m moving in with you guys!”

The lack of response from Eddie had Buck swinging in front of him and staring down at him with a frown on his face. He was staring at Buck with a bemused expression on his face, and something softer in his eyes, something that made Buck’s heart race too much for him to try and place a name to it. He narrowed his eyes. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Buck, you practically have moved in with us,” Eddie said gently, that soft look never leaving his eyes.

Buck frowned a little, unable to deny the truth of the statement. He opened and closed his mouth but found he had nothing to say, left floundering on the edge of something he wasn’t sure he wanted to name.

Eddie placed his beer on the counter and stood, striding over until he was barely a breath away from Buck. That ridiculously fond look was still on his face, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he reached out and gently took Buck's hand. “I’ve been waiting for you to catch up,” he admitted, and Buck felt his breath hitch slightly when Eddie’s thumb gently brushed over the back of his hand. “But, I think, it might be time to take the jump.”

“The ju—” Buck’s confused question was cut off when suddenly a pair of lips were gently pressing against his own.

Eddie’s lips.

Eddie was kissing him.

And it was like that was all it took for everything to slot into place. All of the lingering touches, the fond looks, the ‘stay the night’, bedtime stories to Chris, the drawer he had next to Eddie’s clothes, the fluttering in his chest whenever Eddie—

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot,” Buck breathed out when Eddie pulled back after a moment, his wide eyes taking in the gorgeous man across from him.

“No,” Eddie disagreed, the hand that wasn’t still holding Buck’s rising up to gently brush against the birthmark above Buck’s eye. “You’re not an idiot. You’ve been through a lot—I was more than willing to wait for you.”

Buck felt a surge of affection for the man standing in front of him, one that must have shown on his face if the blush dusting Eddie’s cheeks was anything to go by. “You’re amazing.” he murmured.

The fond look on Eddie’s face turned into something a little more mischievous, his hand falling from Buck’s face to wrap around his waist. “Oh, yeah? Well, you’re not so bad yourself, I suppose.”

“Oh, just shut up.” Buck grinned back, surging forward and kissing Eddie forcefully. Their teeth clacked together, the kiss more smiles than anything else, before Buck backed Eddie up against the wall. The kiss turned open-mouthed, hot and heavy, exploring and tasting each other like a treasure they’d only finally managed to discover. It was a little embarrassing how long they made out, like two teenagers on a first date, but eventually, oxygen won out.

Buck pressed his forehead against Eddie’s catching his breath and feeling more than a little giddy. “So does this mean I can come to all the parent-teacher meetings?

“Anything you want, cariño.” Eddie murmured fondly, pressing a soft kiss against Buck’s lips. “Come on, I’m exhausted after today’s shift. Sleep with me.”

“Anything for you.” Buck murmured, returning the soft kiss before he followed Eddie to his room.

It felt like the last piece to a puzzle slotting into place.

[bluebellhairpin]

Star Wars Headcanons - Having an Ex-First Order S/O

Star Wars X Ex-First Order!Reader

A/N: It’s my first time writing anyone who isn’t Poe. Don’t @ me if I get them a bit occ, okay? (Also, I’ve left out Anakin because it’s kinda hard to write him with an Ex-First Order S/O when he wasn’t part of the First Order himself, like, two minutes before he died. Not my fault he was a b a d b o y . Same with Huxxx.) - Nemo

Masterlist  

Finn (Traitor) 

ummmm

He’s ex-First Order too, so the chances of it being a problem aren’t going to be high.

At all. 

If you were a Trooper too then you’d both bond greatly over this.

If you were an officer, or higher rank then him which wouldn’t of been too hard then he’ll just look up to you heaps 

“Listen, my s/o used to be a First Order Commander. They got away and are still living life to the fullest. Your argument is irrelevant. Peridot.”

If someone left a backhanded comment at him about being Ex-First Order, but if they made it at his s/o?

He’s already thrown hands before someone can get a syllable of the word ‘don’t’ out. 

He knows what you could’ve dealt with - it’s a life neither of you wanted, that’s why you left - so he’s very protective about that part of your lives, and yet he’s still so understanding.

For instance, if you wanted to throw hands instead he’d 100% let you -

Rey (Of Jakku) 

Okay, listen, she liked Kylo/Ben back when he was still a murderous sith lord.

You’re not worse, so there’s, like, zero apprehension once she found out. 

Honestly, you were a bit worried with exactly how chill she was when finding out. 

She was freakily calm. 

“So that’s what’s been worrying you, huh?”

Of course she could tell there was something ‘off’. 

She’s very considerate when it comes to your ‘predicament’, and like Finn would probably throw hands with someone if they decided to use your history against her.

Unlike Finn, you do not have to physically hold her back to get her to not deck said disrespectful person. 

She’s good like that. 

Poe Dameron (Poe Damn-eron)

Reacts very mildly.

He’d definetly ask at some point why you didn’t tell him sooner.

Slightly hurt that you could’ve felt you couldn’t trust him enough to tell him.

Probably will pout at some stage. He might not know why, and neither would you.

The thought might run through his head that you’re still for the First Order, and only with him because he’s Poe Kriffing Dameron and he knows everything about the Resistance.

One look into your eyes squashes that thought very quickly.

“But you’re good now, right?” 

You say ‘of course, doofus!’, and you both giggle.

Life moves pretty normally after, nothing really changes.

However he does now understand how you can do that; and know so much about this; and why you know how those two things work together.

Ben Solo (Emo Ren) 

He isn’t one to talk bad about you at all because of this.

He used to be Kylo Ren for kirffs sake.

If he does, I will - with the full force of my entire being - step through my computer screen and give him a Carrie Fisher face slap. 

But he can still be an idiot sometimes.

“So, did you kill anybody - when you were with... The other guys?”

Good l o r d, send him some help.

He was probably awkward before, but now you have that in common, um, somehow his awkwardness got worse??? 

10/10 did not inherit any of his father’s smooth nature.

I’d suggest to keep this ‘First Order’ information to yourself. 

For the sake of everyone’s sanity. 

Han Solo (Shot First) 

On board with this.

All the way.

His s/o is a badass that broke away from the First Order - why wouldn’t he love that?  

He’s just - you literally just got even better by his standards.

Like you were cool before, but now you’re the closest thing  he has to a role model.

“I’d wish I could do that if I used to be with those guys.” 

He thinks he wouldn’t be able to break away like that - but really he probably would.   

He would most definitely use this new information for his benefit. 

Like, if someone was being a little too ‘iffy’ or something about his smuggling or piloting, he’ll pull the ‘They’re Ex-First Order, don’t make me tell them to use their methods against you’ card. 

You’re always like ‘That’s not how it works, Han.’

He ignores you every time. 

Cassian Andor (Didn’t Deserve To Die) 

He gets apprehensive.

Don’t get me wrong, he still likes you a lot, but he does have similar worries to Poe. 

At the same time he also heavily respects you for managing to get away and - not just start a new life - but join the Resistance. 

It’s a very notable achievement. 

Like Han, he looks up to you for that.

“You know, it doesn’t exactly bother me as much as I thought it would to begin with.” 

Thanks Cassian.

He soon comes to realize your not much different to K2.

It’s just like you broke off from the First Order and then reprogrammed yourself to work for the good guys. 

“Sure Cass, if that helps you understand then so be it.”

He’s just - it’s so - mhmmmmmm - yeah. 

Din Djarin (Whatta Man-dalorian) 

10/10 not worried about it.

He’s a bounty hunter by profession, so in theory - even if he didn’t know why - you probably met because he was hunting you.

The fact The Child likes you is the only reason he didn’t give you over, and once he found out why he was hunting you, he only wanted to keep you safe.

The Child needed another parent figure anyway.

“You’d think this’d be harder, since now I have two wanted people on my ship and all. But it’s not.” 

Thing’s don’t really change between you either, it’s just now he’s a little less worried about you if something happens.

You know - 

- Since it took a Mandalorian to even find you in the first place -

He knows you can h a n d l e yours e l f if someone comes a f t e r you. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi (Hermit Blueprint) 

Mmmmmm he’s not -

- I dunno man.

He’d be a bit butthurt to begin with, but he get’s over it pretty quickly. 

Reasons that if you left, and ran off to Tatooine then you really mustn’t be too bad.

Probably worries that now Vader has more reason to come looking on Tatooine, but again probably gets over that rather quickly. 

But still had a number of questions.

“You’re Ex-First Order? The hell does that mean? You used to iron Vader’s cape or something?” 

Yes Obi, that’s exactly what you did.

Fool. 

He’ll always find questions to ask you, and will no doubt want story-length answers.

He doesn’t stop. 

Even so, you were the One (1) person he trusts most in the entire galaxy, and that hasn’t changed.

His view on you has, his trust hasn’t.  

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

two years too late, chapter f i f t e e n

Carly was seated cross-legged on your couch, a beer on the coffee table in front of her when you handed over her plate of lo-mein. She showed up with a smile, not the kind that seemed disingenuous or fake. She’d already texted along her order and said she was excited to see Alyssa, too, who was now cursing under her breath as she tried to balance her plate on her lap. 

“We need a bigger kitchen table,” she said, chopsticks held between her teeth as she gathered her hair on top of her head. “For when we have company.”

You took your seat between them both, a sigh escaping your lips when you sunk into the cushions. You had know idea how this would go, but you figured it was good practice for telling Whitney. 

“You can sit at the table if you’d like,” you reminded Alyssa--who made a face in your direction once she secured her hair into a bun. 

“And miss the spilling of the tea? No way.”

“It’s not tea,” you tried to dismiss her. 

“Oh don’t be so nonchalant. Just tell her,” she motioned in Carly’s direction, who’s eyes widened when you caught her with a mouthful of noodles. “She sees through you.”

She struggled to swallow but then laughed. “I do. Spill.”

Another sigh. You took a bite and let the silence simmer in the room. Your day at work had been long and busy, your feet hurt from walking the entire way home, but you’d hoped that the fresh air would clear your mind. It didn’t. 

“So--you know that Harry and I are friends.”

She nodded, pulled her knees up to her chest and took another bite of take away. 

“And that I’m writing this story about him for work.”

Another nod--now her eyebrows were furrowed as if she didn’t know where you were going with it. 

You paused--realizing that you also didn’t know where you were going with it. 

“They were doing it for a while,” Alyssa said it quickly, her eyes glued to you when your head swiveled quickly to see her. You pulled a face--Carly seemed to look at you with wide eyes. When you turned back to her, a wave of insecurity flooded through you. 

“What? Why are you making that face?”

“I just--I dunno--I suspected it but I’m still surprised.”

“Why?” Your voice was smaller, tinged with the low self-esteem that had always lingered. 

“Well, because he’s Harry Styles,” she said, her eyes getting wider when she spoke again. “I never thought I’d meet him let alone know someone who’s having sex with him.”

“Well it’s past tense,” you clarified. “Was having sex. Not any more.”

She let out a laugh, a sympathetic look crossed her face before she reached to take another pull from her beer. “Can you just give me actual details and explain what the hell has been going on?”

You let out a groan, letting your head fall back against the couch when you closed your eyes. “It was nothing at first--I mean, like I told you. We’d been friends, we lost touch, reconnected, the usual.”

“Yeah but at some point someone decided that intercourse would spice it up,” Alyssa let out a chuckle before she set her plate down. Carly laughed too, her eyes still on you to give her more information. 

“I guess I just always liked him,” you admitted, shoulders slumping when Alyssa dumped more food on her plate from the white box in front of you. “But I didn’t think anything would happen--I mean, I just thought he was being friendly when he invited us to that show.”

“So when did it change? When did it become more than friendly?” She laughed a little, surprisingly calm when you twirled your fork in the heap of noodles in your bowl. 

“Basically when we went home for Christmas.”

“So when I came over here and we watched basketball you were jumping in bed with him after?”

Alyssa stifled a laugh--mostly because she knew that was the first time he slept over.

“No,” you rolled your eyes. “We--well, when we were home for Christmas and New Years he kissed me. And then we came back and things were obviously, you know, different.”

“So I’ll take it the fight wasn’t about wine--which, it’s not like I ever really believed that.”

You pursed your lips, guilt settling on your cheeks in a flushed red. “The reason we aren’t hanging out any more is because he was seeing someone else.”

“What?! Who?!”

Your stomach dropped at the look on her face--one of excitement, not concern for a friend. You wondered, for a second, if it was your place to divulge who Harry had been cozying up next to in restaurant booths before it was you. 

“Some model,” you said, Alyssa let her beer bottle connect with her mouth before she offered a small smile in support of your vagueness. 

“Fuck him, honestly. You two are a match made in heaven and he fucked it up.”

Carly blew right past her support, still trying to gather information. “Was it that Nina girl? From that last Coach campaign with the scarves?”

“Well, I don’t know about the campaign,” you said. “But yeah--they were seeing each other for a bit.”

“I knew it,” she said, her eyes flickering up to the ceiling in thought. “I wrote an article about the time they got dinner but then I never saw anything more. That was like, right before the holidays.”

Her words brought a sense of relief to you. If anyone was going to be up to date on who Harry was dating, it was Carly. She reached for a napkin on the table and wiped at her mouth. “So what’s the plan with Whitney, then?”

“My story’s due Friday,” you told her, an air of defeat in your voice. “I don’t really know what to write about, I mean, other than the truth.”

Her eyes went wide. “Like--the real truth?”

“At least the I’ve known him forever truth. Not the sex truth. And if I get fired, then, I dunno. I guess I’ll figure it out. But--I can’t, I can’t keep lying to everyone.”

She nodded, ran a hand through her hair and let out a sigh. She seemed to let it sink in, much calmer than the time she found out you knew him at all. Less angry than the other day in the office. The glow of the telly filled your apartment and when she left that night, she smiled. Let me know if you need me to proof anything. 

**

You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. He’d told you to wear a dress--a nice one--and he said you’d certainly get free dinner and drinks. As if that would convince you to come. 

As if it had to be a real reason, at this point. Like the rules had been set and somehow, you were breaking them. But what you didn’t tell anyone--not even Alyssa--is that he could have asked you to come over and watch him fold laundry, and you would have gone.

You begged Roger to blast the aircon in the ride over even though the city offered a brisk wind, the nerves and the uncertainty getting the best of you in the back leather seats. This time you wore your own dress, one that was black and down to your ankles, a slit showed off your upper thigh in a way that Alyssa promised was enticing but not slutty. 

A text from Pat on the way there made your breath hitch in your throat--fingers hovered over the screen when the notification popped up. 

Pat Martin (6:47pm): Dinner one night next week?

You ignored it for now. When the lift deposited you into Harry’s flat, his eyes trailed you up and down. 

“Alright, don’t look at me like that,” you said, failing to add the thought that followed. If I know that you still feel that way, we’re hopeless.

“Sorry,” he stepped aside, the door shut behind you and you shoved your hands into your coat pockets. “You, uh, you look beautiful.”

He turned to find his wallet, let it sink into the pocket of his trousers when he turned around to face you again, a smirk still plastered on his lips. Roger had practically sent you up to fetch him, a laugh from the front seat, he’ll hurry up for you! Always drags his feet when I need him. 

“Why do you need me to come to this, again?”

The doors to the lift opened once more when Harry summoned it, you climbed inside and he cleared his throat. “Just, uh, kind of a big deal--the dinner, I mean.”

“Why?”

“Just is, Smalls, okay?”

“Okay,” you said quickly, not wanting to overstep a boundary that was likely needed. If anything, you figured you and Harry needed more boundaries, more clarity around what you could and couldn’t do. 

So you kept enough space between you in the backseat of the car, eyes tracing the water droplets that raced down the window. You kept enough distance when you trailed behind him into an event space somewhere in Hell’s Kitchen, stilettos already digging into your feet.

He’d kept the conversation light in the car--let you know that he had fun with everyone and was excited to have the gang back together soon. He said he was excited for the tour, hesitation in his voice when you asked how long it was. 

_All summer, _he said. I’ll be back in early October. 

You pretended like it wasn’t weird to be by his side, a glass of red wine in your hand when someone from his management team greeted you by the wrong name. 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, an apology under his breath when he pulled you away. “He’s a dick--that’s not, I don’t know who Emmy is.”

You hoped he wasn’t lying. 

So you left him alone for the most part, texting Alyssa from the bar with periodic updates. No he wasn’t flirting with you, yes you were sure. You’d put the pieces together and figured out that this was some sort of going away party that the label was throwing before Harry left for tour and pushed the thoughts of why does he want me here out of your head. 

After a check of social media to ensure that all was still quiet, he stumbled back towards you, introducing you to someone you’d already met earlier in the night. His arm snaked around your waist and he bragged to the label exec that you were one of his best friends. Isn’t she beautiful?

His manager eventually wandered over, hoping to persuade the champagne-fueled boy around your waist to head home. “M’fine,” Harry laughed. “I can reel it in--I think,” he laughed when he went to lean on a table, barely catching his footing before almost toppled over. You held onto his elbow, offering Jeff a nervous smile when Harry leaned his head on your shoulder. 

“M’tired anyway, Harry,” you bargained, hand automatically rubbing his back. “We can head home and just call it a night, yeah?”

He sighed, a bit of a groan when he looked between the two of you. “Fine, we can go home. But I have to have a wee first.”

He disappeared towards the bathroom, weaving through people and servers as he managed to miraculously keep his balance. The lights from Jersey City flickered outside, Jeff let out a sigh before he let his eyes find yours again. 

“Everything good?”

You shrugged, unsure of how to respond. You didn’t know him well enough to give him all the details, nor did you know if it was your place. “Good enough,” was the response you settled on. 

So when you fell into the backseat with Harry in tow, his laughter drowned out the radio that Roger had on. “M’sorry that was so stupid. I kept trying to find you so I could make you endure the boring conversations I was stuck in.”

You turned towards him on the smooth leather, barely able to see him in the dark. “You hated it? You seemed like you had a blast.”

“S’the alcohol,” he smirked, his eyes crinkled by the sides. “Knew I’d need a few to tolerate the suits and ties.”

You let out a scoff, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach that threatened to take flight. Something about him made you feel like you were both seventeen again, sneaking away from some party in Adam’s basement to watch the stars on the roof outside your bedroom. 

He reached over and let his hand rest on your thigh, the pads of fingers sent a jolt up your spine when his skin met yours beneath your dress. “I missed you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t seen you in a bit,” he shrugged, still maintaining a casual tone despite the liquor in his system. 

You let the words hang between you, pretending as if Roger wasn’t listening between the breaks in songs that leaked out of the speakers. 

You swallowed, tugging desperately in the other direction. “I think we, y’know, needed some space.”

He sighed, a dramatic one. One that pulled a giggle from your lips as he slumped in the seat. “I didn’t need space. I was fine.”

“Harry,” you said his name in warning, as if the butterflies had been freed from their cage and any second they’d swarm the backseat and find their way into the night air. 

His fingers still rested on your skin, but when you made eye contact he squeezed a bit tighter, pulling you towards him. The satin of your dress slid along the leather, your shoulder knocked into his before he let his lips press a kiss against it. 

You stayed like that for a while, hands intertwined atop your thigh, buildings passed by the windows as Roger brought you back to Harry’s, not yours. 

Come inside, he smiled, the car slowed to a stop and he was out before you could sit up straight. His palm was outstretched, waiting for you to climb out into the February air. 

“Only so I can make sure you make it to the toilet and not puke all over your flat.”

He rolled his eyes theatrically, dimples appearing on either side of his mouth before he turned to head for the doors. He drunkenly laughed about the night, the worst part was, I’m so glad you put up with, but suddenly, the quiet of his flat on the top floor seemed to blanket the evening. 

He slid his watch off his wrist and onto the console table near the couch. You reached for water bottles in the fridge and then found him staring at the ceiling in his bedroom. Two knocks on the door frame. 

“Got you water,” the words were quiet, nervous. 

He didn’t move. His eyes were closed and he let out a breath, the only sign that he wasn’t unconscious. “M’fine.”

“I bet you’ll beg to differ in the morning.”

He laughed at that, a quick rush of air through his nose--he was soon upright on the bed, palm outstretched to receive the hydration. You handed it over. 

He made a face, a scrunched nose and narrowed eyes. He was on his knees in front of the toilet in a matter of seconds. You stood frozen at the foot of the bed at first, still unsure of where the fine line was between friendship and romance.

But when he called your name--tired and almost weak--you found that the line didn’t really matter. 

“You’re alright,” you said, reassuring. “Do you need to get sick again?”

“No,” he shook his head, reaching for a tissue to wipe his mouth on. He pushed himself up and off the floor, you handed over his toothbrush, ignoring the fact that the purple one you’d bought from a Daune Reade down the block was still there. Untouched, almost a permanent fixture. 

He brushed, sneaking glances at you through the mirror every few seconds. Once he spit and put the toothbrush back in its place beside yours, you followed him back into the bedroom. He tugged open a drawer, grabbing for a pair of sweatpants and almost toppling over. 

You stood awkwardly in the center of the room when he changed, a quirked eyebrow in your direction once he pulled back the sheets. “You’re sleeping in that?”

“No--Harry, I’m not, I can’t stay.”

He was in bed now, his eyes focused on the blanket that he was trying to spread over the duvet, an extra layer of warmth. He brought his gaze up to you. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not sleeping here.”

“Oh,” his face fell but he leaned back against his pillow, his eyes trailing over to the empty spot beside him. “Yeah, okay.”

You promised yourself it was the alcohol--his judgment was impaired and his thinking was impaired and maybe his feelings were too. 

“Smalls?” 

You moved closer to him, stifling a laugh when he closed his eyes and let out another dramatic sigh. 

You hummed in response, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“You know what sucks?”

“What?”

“That it’s all my fault.”

“What’s all your fault?”

“If I just realized all of this sooner maybe it would have worked.”

“You’re losing me…”

He opened his eyes, pupils dilated from the booze. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids but I was too daft to figure my shit out. So now it’s too late.”

You didn’t know what to say, you blinked a few times, thankful for the drowsiness in his eyes. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, turning over and pulling the blankets up to his face. “Later.”

So you shut off the lights and closed the door, locked up his flat and rode the lift down. You walked home alone and promised yourself that it was just the alcohol. 

You thumbed out a message to Pat when you were home, safe in the darkness of your own living room. 

Y/N L/N (1:03am): I’m actually really busy for the next few weeks, sorry!

You pulled open the document on your computer that you’d been avoiding and stared at the fourteen headlines you’d brainstormed. You counted the words of the few paragraphs you’d written, and eventually, your fingers met the keyboard.

So maybe things with Harry would never be stable. But when you remembered the feeling of his hand on your thigh or his lips on your shoulder, you realized one thing: Maybe you’d never know where the line is or was or should be. Maybe for some people the line is always thin and blurry. Maybe trying to find the line is better than never even getting close to it at all.

**

Half of the office lights were out--that’s how late it was. The noise of a vacuum drifted through cubes, maintenance workers offered sheepish smiles when you made your way to Whitney’s office. She was still there, you had no idea why, but a late Friday night deadline felt appropriate for the churning in your stomach. 

“Hi,” you knocked on the doorframe, she smiled when she looked up from her computer. “Have a minute?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, pushing her laptop away from her a bit. “Come sit.”

“I--uh--I have this,” you handed over a manila folder, thin, with only four pages of paper inside. They weren’t stapled together, separate’s always better, she’d once told you._ That way I can lay it out in front of me when I edit._

You’d written small letters on a post-it, stuck it to the first page inside. Harry Styles Interview. 

She smiled up at you when she pulled it off, eyes scanning the proposed subheadline before the happiness left her face. It was replaced with a furrowed brow, her lips pressed together in a thin line as you watched her eyes move left to right, left to right. 

Her mouth parted, speechless--you guessed she was somewhere near the second or third paragraph. She didn’t put it down or rip it up, which felt like a good sign. Your heartbeat thumped in your ears with each page turn, her fingers peeling the story apart. Her eyes trailed up to you once, quickly back down to your words when she realized you were watching her every move.

You counted the seconds it took her to read it. Stolen glances at the clock on her wall until she set it down on her desk and let her gaze float up to the ceiling. First, she exhaled. “I’m not really sure what to say.”

“I know,” you said quickly. “I should have told you and I should have just come clean from the start. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, slow and hesitant. “How could you--why didn’t you just tell me when I pitched it to you?”

You shifted in your chair. “I dunno, Whitney, I guess I just didn’t want to fuck up my first chance to really prove my writing to you.”

She let out a noise of exasperation. “You don’t have to prove your writing--I already hired you!”

“I just wanted to write something real and fun and--not that the lists aren’t fun, I mean, they are--I just wanted to do an amazing job with it but then,” you paused to inhale. 

“But then what?” She looked at you like she didn’t have the slightest idea what was about to come out of your mouth, like you were speaking a different language and she was still trying to put a thousand pieces together. 

“But then I realized I didn’t know how to write about him without just writing about him. For awhile I thought I’d just lie my way through the whole thing and never tell you, but, writing the best story meant telling the truth,” you pointed at the pages on her desk. “That’s the story he deserves.”

She sighed, picking up the first page to peer down at your words once more. She set it down on the desk with uncertainty. “So did you actually go to Los Angeles with him?”

“Yes--everything in there is true.”

“And you’ve known him for how long?”

“Since we were, like, eight or nine.”

“Jesus,” she sighed. 

“And uh, in an effort to be completely honest with you--which feels kind of pointless, now--he and I were also kind of together when I did the interview.” The word crept out of your mouth slowly, awkward pauses laced through your words.

“Together?”

You nodded. 

“Like, romantically?”

Another nod. 

“Alright, well--yeah, I, uh, I need to think about all of this, I guess.”

“Okay, yeah.” You stood from your chair and turned on your heel, wondering how much of your conversation had been heard by the janitorial staff outside her door. Embarrassment flooded your veins, would she tell everyone in the office that you were a liar? Would your name be ruined in the field?

“S’good.”

“What?” 

“It’s really good,” she said, her eyes still glued to the papers on her desk when you turned to face her. “The story.”

You were quiet, unsure of what to say and hesitant to speak at all. She looked up at you and shrugged. “Not that is undoes the dishonesty and lack of professionalism, but, it’s probably one of the best features we’ve ever had.”

You mumbled a quiet thank you, brushed hair behind your ear before she told you she’d get back to you. You wished you could have asked: with what? A notice of termination? 

Instead you nodded and went back to your desk, grabbing your coat and heading for the door before you could ruin anything else. 

**

You got a text from Bryn late on Sunday. Clouds hung low over the city, you only left your apartment for a cup of tea in the afternoon. Saturday had been quiet. Cleaning, reading, a nap--living in a blissful state of denial, as if the city outside of your windows would cease to exist if you stepped outside. 

But now an impending phone call from Whitney felt inevitable. Like a boulder ready to fall from it’s mountainside nest, threatening the peace and quiet you’d somehow created in your tiny apartment. 

It was a group message, just you and Bryn and Jessie. 

Bryn (7:18pm): This just came across facebook.

Bryn (7:19pm): https://bit.ly/36thuW2

Jessie Alby (7:21pm): Literally just saw it...BRILLIANT! How did your boss take it? 

You didn’t believe either of them until you opened the link that Bryn had sent. The Scoop’s website came up on your screen, the headline you’d written appeared in thick, bold, lettering--exactly how you’d written it. 

Your name, a timestamp, and a tiny picture of Harry appeared beside it.

Another message came through on your phone, something from Carly. Then another, Jake. Another, your sister. Another, Adam. You read the interview twice--eyes glazed over as you sat with the feeling that things were now done. 

You only wished that Whitney had given you a decent warning. A swipe over to twitter, damage control. Messages with love and anger and accusations seemed to litter the screen, but one in particular caught your eye. 

You typed back to Jessie and Bryn. 

Y/N L/N (8:23pm): She didn’t even tell me she was posting it! She said she had to think things over!

You pulled the story back up, navigated to the “staff writers” page to see if your name was still listed. Below your picture and right next to Gabrielle’s, your name and title appeared in tiny font. 

You sat frozen for a second, thumbs hovering over the screen of your phone while you contemplated the options. Call Whitney? Ask her why she posted it? Call Harry? Ask him what he thought about it? 

Neither felt like great options--like either way you were getting yourself into a conversation that you didn’t want to have. When your phone buzzed and showed you Jake’s name at the top, you answered it quickly. 

“Hi,” you said, letting the view of him come into focus on the screen. He was somewhere in his flat, the lights mostly off. 

“Just saw the story,” he said. “S’really good, Y/N.”

“My boss didn’t even tell me she was publishing it.”

He pulled his head back, eyes furrowed. “What did she say when you talked to her?”

“Just that she needed time to think, really. She said that she wished I’d just been honest, but obviously I’m a proper knob so I lied and got myself into a fucking shit storm.”

“Well--she can’t be that mad if she published it.”

“Hopefully you’re right,” you sighed. “But either way it’s fine. Now it’s all said and done and I can just move on from the drama and the story and, I don’t know, stay in my own lane.” You looked up at him on the screen. He offered a sympathetic smile and then laughed. 

“Oh, Smalls, you’re something else.”

You looked at him, unimpressed. “What? Why am I something else?”

“Just are,” he said. “Harry told me you two hung out the other night.”

“We didn’t hang out,” you told him. “I went with him to some event and he got really bloody drunk. Made sure he didn’t die is what I did.”

“He might have been off his face but he remembers asking you to stay the night.”

You made a face. “Does he remember saying that it’s all his fault?”

“Yeah.”

You didn’t expect that. You were both quiet for a moment. 

“Sometimes I wish he didn’t even reach out in December, you know? I know we all missed him and what not but--I dunno, it’s been a mess since then. And the whole Nina Winters thing didn’t help.”

“Smalls,” he let out a laugh and rubbed at his face. “I have something to confess.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Jake, what it is?”

He laughed again, tried to straighten his face when you narrowed your eyes at him. “I knew that he was seeing Nina, but just hear me out!”

Your heart nearly stopped, but the smile on his face told you this had to be good.

“He mentioned it in passing, like, when they met in the fall. It really didn’t sound like anything serious. And eventually, after a few dates with her, he said something about it was off. This was before he talked to you--to be clear.”

“He said something was off?”

“He said he wanted whoever he dated to feel like his best friend.”

You were quiet for a second, still staring at him as if you were waiting for him to say more. “Then he said he missed you.”

And just like that, Jake handed over the last puzzle piece you’d been missing. The one thing that seemed to throw the whole picture off, make sure that nothing could really align. 

“So that’s why he reached out to me?”

He nodded.

“So let me make sure I understand you.”

Another nod. 

“You knew he was dating Nina Winters because he told you. Because you’d all maintained some level of contact with him for the last two years but you didn’t tell me because I was too embarrassed to even talk to him.”

“Yes.”

“So he reached out to me because he missed me? And dating Nina for a second made him realize that?”

“I think dating Nina made him realize that no one would ever be you.”

Another pause. You thought back to the night when he first met Carly. 

“I, uh, spoke with our friend Jake--I knew Y/N was here but he reminded me, and I hadn’t seen her in a while, so, figured I’d call.”

You tilted your head to the side, he made brief eye contact with you before looking over to Carly. “You spoke with Jake?” It wasn’t a shock, especially seeing as that cover had already been blown.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, a sip of the beer in his hand. “Caught up with him and mentioned the gang. Figured it’d be nice to see you.”

Jake could tell that you were deep in thought, he watched you through the phone and eventually, he let out a sigh. “He’s always loved you, Smalls--I think it just took him longer to realize it.”

**

You had no clue what to expect Monday morning when you set your bag down at your desk. Your cubicle hadn’t been touched--no one had come to clear out your belongings or light your things on fire, which seemed slightly promising.

You kept your head down and eyes focused on your computer, hoping to come up with enough good topics to write about so you wouldn’t have to leave your desk all day. If you were lucky, everyone would just forget about the story altogether and you’d be able to slip back into a state of mild internet fame due to your own self-deprecation. 

As it should be. 

“Hi, can we chat?” Whitney knocked twice on the wall to your cube, a small smile on her face when you looked up. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Of course.”

She led you through the maze of cubes and back to her office, this time you had to deal with sheepish smiles from coworkers who’d read your story, not janitorial staff who’d heard your lies. 

She shut the door once you were both inside her office, though the glass wall didn’t provide much privacy. 

“So, we published it, obviously, as you know.”

“Mhm.”

“And it’s really good, Y/N. Honestly, it’s a great piece and it’s trafficking better than any other feature we’ve ever done--but, I unfortunately can’t keep you on staff after that.”

You looked at her, both of you stood in the middle of her office as if the chairs would provide a level of nonchalance that neither of you could handle. 

You didn’t respond. You stared at the eggshell white walls and then down at the gray carpet. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N--it’s not that I don’t think you’re a fantastic writer and an amazing person, but--I just don’t think it sets a good precedence, you know? We’re supposed to have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to dual relationships and--”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I get that. I, uh, I’m sorry, that I fucked it all up.”

She frowned, a deflated breath left her lungs and she crossed her arms. “I just wish you’d been honest--we could have figured something out.”

“Ever since he got famous, people seemed more interested in me just because I knew him--so when I came here and started working, I just wanted to prove myself without his name attached.”

She nodded. “You did prove yourself--and if you’d told me that you knew him, I dunno. Honesty is always the best option.”

A nod. “I don’t blame you for firing me. I deserve it.”

“In a perfect world, I wouldn’t. But,” she paused. “I have good news--I convinced my boss to let me publish your piece with limited rights--as if you were a freelancer. You own the full story and even though it was produced and published during your contracted time here, you can bring that story with you or have it removed from our site whenever you’d like.”

A tiny weight off your shoulders. You wondered what Harry was doing. A meeting, maybe. Grabbing breakfast with Jeffrey. He wasn’t getting fired--you knew that. 

“Thank you, that’s helpful.”

“And I’d be happy to write you a letter of recommendation. I’ll just, you know, leave out this stuff.”

She laughed, one that caught on the stale office air and found it’s way to you. A small smile on her face when she opened her arms towards you. “I’m sorry I have to do this--but something tells me you’ll have plenty of offers.”

That wasn’t even where your brain was at. Instead, it was high above the streets of New York, wondering how the last few months had accidentally turned into the most adventurous ones yet, how figuring everything out also turned it all upside down.

“And also,” she pulled you back to reality. “I hope things work out between you two.”

“What?”

She laughed, waved a hand as if her words weren’t as serious as they seemed. “Sounds like there’s a bit of history there. Not quite finished, either, right?”

You stared at her--shocked at how her words allowed another piece to fall into place. Collected through your own writing, Whitney’s insight into the situation felt telling and true. And here, in her office, there were no more lies. No more secrets, no more dodging the truth. It was the first time in a long time that you let out a breath and actually felt relieved. 

You nodded, repeated her words. “Not quite finished yet.”

She had papers for you to sign, there was a meeting with someone from HR and by lunch time you’d packed up your desk. The tiny trinkets and your phone cord were tucked away in a box you’d grabbed out of a recycling bin. 

“Don’t forget this,” Carly plucked a photo from the gray fabric, unfolding it to reveal Harry’s face on the other side of Bryn. She laughed, rolling her eyes when she saw who it was. “All that time he was sitting right here.”

You took it from her, a small laugh. “You can keep that,” you teased. “Cut out the rest of us and just stare at him while you write.”

“You know,” she leaned against the desk, watching as you did a final look around for any other forgotten belongings. “Something tells me that I won’t be writing about him so much.”

“He’s got a tour coming up, I’m sure there will be plenty of content.”

“Yeah--I don’t think anything about him will traffick like yours is right now, so.”

You set the box down, pulling her into a hug quickly. “Thanks for not getting me in trouble.”

“Are you kidding?” She pulled away from you and laughed. “If you let me do that interview I’d probably be dead or in jail or--I don’t know. I think it worked out for the best.”

“Minus me getting fired,” you reminded, a smirk in her direction. 

“Right. Minus that.”

You picked up the box again and headed for the lift, she followed suit. “But you’ll be okay--I mean, Gabby said she’d be shocked if you don’t have something by the end of the week. E! News picked up the story, Cosmo tweeted about it, so did Paper Mag and Buzzfeed.”

“Yeah,” you said, a confident nod despite the uncertainty in your veins. “I’ll be alright. I might go home for a bit--take a break. But, it’ll be alright.”

“Let’s do dinner,” she smiled. The doors opened and you stepped inside, pressing the button for the lobby.

“Thursday?”

She smiled. “I’ll bring the wine!”

**

You weren’t dressed for company. Alyssa was on the phone with Owen and you were stretched north, arms reaching for the last packet of crisps in the cabinet above the stove when there was a knock at the door. 

Jesus Christ, you hadn’t the slightest clue who’d be there. Not Owen, simple deductive reasoning. Not Carly--your plans weren’t for another few nights. A neighbor locked out or someone who’d accidentally gotten your electric bill.

You pressed your cheek up to the painted wood, eye gazing through the peephole to see Harry--a baggy coat and a hat pulled over his head. 

You twisted the lock and pulled the door open. “Hi,” you said, eyes flickered down to his hands. Printed paper. The headline in bold lettering. An immediate raise in blood pressure.

“Hi,” he said.

He stepped inside, you shut the door, awkward silence. The clock ticked on the wall and the telly was on mute--a blanket was strewn on the couch where you’d once been before you had a hankering for something salty. 

“I, uh, I really like the story.”

“Thanks,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Sorry I didn’t, like, tell you it was out. They didn’t tell me they were publishing it. I think you knew before I did.”

“Oh,” he said, brows knit towards the center of his face. “How’d it go? Talking with Whitney, I mean.”

You sighed, moved back to the couch and sat on top of a throw pillow. “Fine enough, she was kind of understanding, but, she fired me.”

“She fired you?” He said it like the possibility had never crossed his mind, still frozen in the center of the room. 

You nodded quietly, watched as he shrugged out of his jacket. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That’s really--s’unfair, honestly. It’s a great feature.”

“S’fine, Harry, don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.”

He bit at his lower lip, hung his jacket by the door before he came over to the couch. “I don’t think anyone’s ever written such nice things about me.” A smirk tugged at his lips, a shade of pink was on his cheeks from the cold wind outside. 

You dodged a laugh. “Well--it got me fired, so, don’t get used to it.”

He was quiet for a second, the sounds of New York seeped through the window. He shifted on the couch but brought his eyes back to you. “Smalls, I--”

The door from Alyssa’s bedroom opened, her head poked out and she smiled at Harry, immediately giving herself away. She’d been hoping you’d talk things through, her words a constant reminder of her own hopes. Just give it a chance, he’s clearly in love with you. “Long time no see!” She tugged at the ratty t-shirt she wore, oversized and faded from the wash. 

“S’been, like, a week!” You argued, rolling your eyes at the smirk on her face. Harry looked all too pleased, laughed when you looked at Alyssa once more. “Can we help you?”

“No, no! Just heard a deeper voice--got a little curious. I’ll be in here,” she held up her hands to show her innocence, shut the door behind her, leaving you alone again. 

You rubbed at your eyes, exhausted from the last few months. When you looked back up at Harry, he watched you for a second.

“What?”

He shrugged. “I just came over to say I’m sorry for everything.”

Silence. 

“I’m sorry that I was a shit friend and I’m sorry that I pushed you to tell people when you weren’t ready and I’m sorry that now you lost your job.”

“It’s not your fault,” you replied. “I’m the one who lied. I’m sorry that I was so--difficult.”

“Yeah, but--I’m the one who turned your life upside down.”

A quiet laugh. “I can’t argue with that.”

He sat there for a second, not saying anything. He tugged at his lower lip and stole a glance in your direction. After another few seconds, he stood. “Well--I’ll leave you to it, just wanted to see how you were doing, make sure you were okay.”

You stood, mirroring his position in the room like you had only moments earlier. He stepped towards the door. “I head out on the road on Wednesday.”

“Yeah?”

A knot in your stomach.

“Yeah.”

He watched you, waiting for you to say something. He scanned your face, a desperate look in his eyes for you to finally cross the line, like he was begging you to come to the other side and stop looking back. 

“Maybe--uh, maybe I can come visit. Seeing as my schedule just opened up.”

He was hesitant, the corner of his mouth twitched towards the ceiling, he somehow knew exactly what you meant. A nod. “Yeah, Smalls, I’d like that.” He stepped forward, then again, and then his hand was on your waist. A spark up your spine like so many times before, like all the times before.

You’re sixteen suddenly, a betraying pulse that you’re worried he can feel when he brushes hair out of your face. Heat in your cheeks like you might get caught by someone’s parents, butterflies desperately trying to break free from your rib cage in the backseat of someone’s car as you drive through town, half drunk and laughing. 

Eighteen now, kissing someone else but wishing it was him. Skipping classes in uni and drinking at dingy pubs, all the while wondering what time zone he’s in and when he might call. 

Twenty, convinced he was just a blip on the radar, nothing more than a teenage fantasy. Telling yourself nothing will ever happen just in hopes of moving on. 

The busy streets of New York are swapped with the quiet ones back home, late nights wondering if he’ll text you back or if he even knows how you feel. And suddenly, back in time, you don’t mind the not knowing. You don’t mind the back and forth, the push and pull, the up and down. You don’t mind the embarrassing moments, the late night take out or relentless teasing from childhood mates. 

You’re twenty-four, a swell of emotion in your chest when he pulls away from the kiss. “I love you,” he says quietly, a crack in his voice. “Sorry it took me so long to say that.”

“Yeah, well,” you laughed, letting your hands reach down to intertwine with his. “Better late than never.”

**

Floral Suits and Screaming Fans: a 2017 solo album and an upcoming arena tour have made Harry Styles one of the most successful stars of the year, but he’s still the same kid I grew up with. 

Written by Y/N L/N, published March 3rd, 2018 - 3:55pm in Entertainment

There’s a pitcher of water in the center of the table, but it’s not sparkling. There are no beautiful women dressed in togas, offering grapes into his mouth as they fan him with giant leaves. Instead, he sits with his chin in his hand, a beanie pulled down over some escaping curls. He listens dutifully as his manager runs through upcoming tour dates that will take him from Amsterdam to Bangkok, San Fran to Sydney. 

So maybe my expectations were a little out of touch with reality. But forgive me--when my childhood friend left our sleepy town just south of Manchester in the UK, I imagined that the new life he led was lavish and luxe. 

I’m seated across from him at a conference table--somewhere in West Hollywood--pretending like I know what ‘in ears’ are or like I’m not wondering where the sparkling water is. I got offered the chance to interview the boy I grew up with, and in a lot of ways Harry Styles is still the same kid that sat next to me in Chemistry or ate Chinese takeout at my mum’s kitchen table. 

He still laughs really hard at his own jokes and he still has a love for sappy movies, but he’s certainly more worldly than he was back then.

He now knows about cultural customs in different parts of the world, he’s traveled to places I’ve only read about. He’s got awards that line a shelf in his beautiful Manhattan apartment, overlooking the streets below. People all around the world would kill to stare mindlessly at him in this meeting, but the truth is that he’s never been some fantastic and enchanting celebrity to me. Instead, he’s been a friend I’ve had for ages and someone who knows a plethora of embarrassing stories from Year 8 that I hope no one ever hears.

It wasn’t always like this though, if I’m being honest. We waved goodbye to our curly-headed friend like he was going off to war, and in a way, he never came home. There were years when I didn’t see him, save for a picture in a magazine or something on the internet. Maybe a happy birthday text between talk shows and concerts. So you can imagine my surprise when we reconnected on a snowy New York evening and everything felt--well, exactly the same.

He asked me to come see a show of his, I brought my roommate who had a tough time playing it cool and we got Pad Thai afterwards. We caught up and fell back into the same rhythm we’d always had. A few weeks later and my boss brought me into her office. The quest? Interview one of the biggest celebrities on the planet--one she didn’t know happened to be a longtime friend. 

Instead of immediately informing her of my close ties to my newest subject, I kept it a secret. I aimed to undertake a lofty goal: prove that the music and the looks and the charm aren’t what make Harry so special. 

So--how does someone as talented and well known as Harry stay so down to earth? It’s the people you’re around, he says. 

H: In the band, I was constantly around people who would bring me back down if I got a bit of an ego, you know? There was such love between everyone, but it was like a real family. If you’re being a dick, you’re going to hear about it from someone--they’re going to tell you to fuck off, probably.

Was that a good thing? 

H: Absolutely. I mean, it definitely sucked sometimes when someone called you on it, but at the end of the day it’s the only way to keep your sanity, I guess. The last thing you want is a bunch of ‘yes’ men telling you that every idea you have is a good one. I’ve had plenty of shit ideas. 

What have some of them been recently?

H: Probably just that I can go long periods of time without a break. It’s nice to still have my mum or someone say ‘you’re probably too busy.’ Having a lot of the same people around me over the years has been good for that. They know me well enough to know when I’m not being myself or when something’s up.

How do you think you’ve changed over the years?

H: I’ve definitely got a better sense of fashion, which is good! But I think there are a lot of ways I have and a lot of ways I haven’t. That’s probably a better question for you to answer. 

I’d say he’s right. Sure, he doesn’t live in the same house he did growing up and he definitely knows now that those purple trainers he had back in the day were a disaster. But he’s as chummy as he’s always been, offering hugs and handshakes to old classmates we haven’t seen in years when we both make the trip to Holmes Chapel for Christmas. 

He’s bounced in and out of our friend circle--sometimes too busy hanging out with Hollywood’s finest to have brunch--but he says he loves coming home more than ever.

H: Being away obviously makes me miss it more. I don’t know if it’s somewhere I could live now, but being there makes me feel like not much has changed. Which is good, I think, having a place to come back to and reset once in a while.

Going to Costa and seeing people you grew up with is normally a nightmare for most people our age. But you don’t mind?

H: No, I mean, it’s awkward sometimes, I guess, to see people you haven’t talked to in a long time, but it’s always nice to catch up. Even if that means me admitting that I’m sometimes shit at keeping in touch. I try to at least let people know I’m thinking about them and still care--even if I can’t see them all the time. And what’s nice is that most people from home still really treat me like a real person, you know? They ask how I’ve been and what I’m doing, not much different than if I were at Uni or working in London. 

They don’t ask about which celebrities are in your phone or if you can buy them a car?

H: They don’t! I think it’s just that people I surround myself with see me as more than the kid from the X-Factor or the kid from that band. 

They know you’ve got a terrible taste in desserts. 

H: That or they just see me as the loud mouth that sat behind them in school and got told to shut up a lot. 

Which is exactly how I remember it. He was always talking, singing, laughing, a true extrovert who loves to make other people smile. So I guess it’s not surprising that he’s doing what he’s doing. 

He says that being up on stage is a similar feeling to being the class clown, feeling really good about bringing a group of people together however he can do it. But he says it’s a lot different without friends by your side. 

H: It’s definitely been a shift. It’s just me up there now--I get to be more myself. Not that I wasn’t [myself] in the band, by any means, but more opportunity to just be myself. 

To dance around and act a fool in front of a whole room of people?

H: Exactly--but I feel lucky for that, really. I get to do this amazing thing and share music with people and create a space where people can just enjoy themselves. That feels really good. And the prancing is fun too--you obviously know me so well!

But do I? Is it possible to lose touch and then reconnect with an old friend for the interview chance of a lifetime, just picking up where you left off?

A day we spent together in Los Angeles seems to prove it is. 

This is a great beach, a great cafe! He sings at the top of his lungs as we drive down the Pacific Coast Highway, excited to share his world with me. I tag along to the meeting without sparkling water and we have dinner that night with his manager and a few friends. 

I’m shocked by the way his demeanor doesn’t shift. He’s just as goofy in a five star restaurant as he is in my living room or at the beach. The people we’re with don’t treat him like a celebrity, they treat him like a human. One that just happens to be extremely gifted when it comes to writing sad songs.

So I think that is what makes him so special. It’s not necessarily the good looks or the music or the charm (though he’d be proper upset if I didn’t admit he possesses them all). It’s the way he makes everyone feel so comfortable, the way he seems so down to earth despite the sold out shows or the platinum albums. 

And in the time I’ve spent with Harry over the last few weeks, I’ve seen the parts that are lavish and luxe. I’ve seen a fancy airplane and a bathtub so big you could probably put a small boat in it. 

I’ve gotten to see a part of the world I’d never been to, I’ve eaten delicious food and gotten to laugh about some terribly unfortunate haircuts that happened in Year 5. 

But getting a taste of the good life wasn’t the best part. The best part was eating take out in my shoebox apartment and getting acquainted to the world my friend now calls home. It was realizing that after all the success in the world, he’s humble, he’s grateful, and still remembers how I like my tea. It was the deep and often emotional conversations we had about growing up and growing apart, learning and changing, all for the best. And even though I’ve missed a few milestones, I can tell he’s settled into himself, nestled snugly between boy next door and bonafide rockstar.

So maybe Harry Styles has never been some fantastic and enchanting celebrity to me, because he’s fantastic and enchanting for a thousand other reasons.

come talk to me about tytl

AN: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to everyone who has read and cried and loved these two as much as I have. This has seriously been the most fun story to write because so many of you were so invested!!!! Chapter 1 of my new story, unplanned, will be posted soon! 

tag list:  @clorenafila​ @ainsleesolareclipse  @castawaycths​ @harryspirate​ @wanderlustiing​ @ursamajor603​ @thurhomish​ @omgsharry​  @stepping-into-the-light​ @rachkon​ @jdcharliewhiskey​  @shawnsblue​  @gendryia @g0bl1nqueen​  @laula843​  @flooome​  @a-woman-without-a-plan​@awomanindeniall​ @shaw-nm @staceystoleyourheart​ @ohprettylittlemind-deactivated2 @anssu-amry​ @my-fandomful-life2​ @stylesfantasy​ @bookingbee​  @mleestiles​  @haute-romance-quotidienne​  @craic-head-horan​ @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry​ @at-least-im-1​ @paigemck00​ @rawmeharry​ @pinkpolaroidgirl​ @blackxxmagicc​ @sksspotkitty @nearbyou​ @kalesouffle​ @sunnflowerchild​ @lmk12310 @sing-me-a-song-harry​ @afterstylesmadeit​ @myhat​ @caritocp​ @liquor-and-intellect​ @harryinsweatersandbandanas​ @daydreamsofh​

[romansrgn]

ch. 7

“What happened to you claiming my trainer as your baby daddy?”

Braelin rolled her eyes. “Stop with the pettiness. It's not cute.” she attempted to pick up the trash bag, but Roman took it out of her hands. “I know how you felt about the idea and didn’t think it would be fair to you.”

Roman nodded once again, surprised at how much impending motherhood has managed to mature Braelin. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“There’s no need to thank me. These are your babies, as well as mine. But I also need you to understand that I like Dante, and I want to see where this goes with him, which also means that he will be in our children’s lives whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t, and there’s a good chance I never will because you are supposed to be with me. In my home and my bed.”

Braelin was tired of the caveman attitude that he seemed to put on every time a man enters into her life friend or otherwise. “Too fucking bad. We’re not together anymore. Do I need to remind you why that is? We made a mistake--”

“Our kids are not a mistake.”

“You’re right—they're not. But the truth of the matter is, what we did and the circumstances behind it certainly were. We don’t work. We get caught up with our history and fall back into old patterns that end up hurting the people that matter to us. I can't and won't hurt Dante in the same way you hurt me.”

Roman knew that any relationship they could potentially have with each other was shot to hell after she abruptly ended things once Janelle came back into his. But, as infuriating as they were, they had something people might wait a lifetime to find. “Will, you ever forgive me for that?”

Braelin smiled sadly “I want to. Despite me letting you back into my bed, I can’t risk letting you back into my heart.”

Ouch.

Roman nodded despite how much it stung; he appreciated her honesty, “I deserve that and for what it's worth, I am sorry.” 

“I know.”

Braelin gasped a little, placing her hand on her stomach.

“What?”

“I think they’re trying to say Hi.” she nodded towards her stomach 

Roman placed his massive paw over her baby bump “I don’t feel anything.”

“Just wait.”

After a few seconds, that’s when he felt it. For the first time, he was able to feel his babies kick “That’s amazing.” He said, looking up at a Braelin with so much awe.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Braelin and Roman jumped apart. “No, that’s ok. Roman just wanted to feel the baby kick.”

Janelle looked in between them both. “Yea, I know how exciting that could be. I mean, I don’t know, but you know what I mean.”

Braelin fidgeted a little, suddenly feeling even more uncontrollable by the second “Yea, and I know what you mean. Look, I probably should say goodbye to everyone before they head out.”

“Before you leave Braelin, I wanted to talk to you both.”

Roman stood up a little straighter before looking at Braelin. “About what?”

“I know things are awkward because of our history. Roman and I were college sweethearts that found each other again when you two were together, and because of it, you guys broke up.”

Braelin smiled tightly, “Right.”

Roman ran a hand over his face “Janelle, maybe now isn’t the —”

“I’m not trying to shake the table or anything I’m not. I just want us to be honest. Like,  honestly, when Roman confessed that he cheated on me, I instantly thought it might’ve been with you, but then I checked myself because deep down inside I know what you two had wasn’t worth risking everything you have now for something so meaningless like a one night stand. I mean, you said it yourself, Roman, it had to be with some bitch that meant nothing to you. They were nobody.”

Braelin snorted before taking the trash bag out of Roman’s hands. “I’m sorry about what happened between you guys, and you’re right, our history is complicated, and that’s exactly why I’m trying to move on in the same way he did. Now, if you excuse me, I need to say goodbye to my guest. Feel free to take home some to-go plates before you see yourselves out.”

Roman waited until Braelin left before speaking to Janelle, “Was that necessary.”

Janelle shrugged, “I don’t see why it wasn’t. We never cleared the air after everything that happened despite constantly being in each other's faces, for I don’t know how many years.”

“You wanted to rub our relationship in her face, and for what?”

“To remind her that even though she’s carrying your children, I’m your wife, and that fact will always remain.”

Roman’s eyes widened.

“You didn’t think I would put two and two together. Give me a little more credit than that.”

“I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”

Janelle laughed bitterly, “I’m not surprised. I mean, how do you tell your wife that you got your ex-girlfriend pregnant? It can't be easy, and despite how much I wish you didn’t because it would make it helluva lot easier to leave your cheating ass, I know you still love me. But I also get the feeling you’re not completely over Braelin.”

“I do love you, and you’re right. I love her too.”

Janelle shook her head, wishing like hell she was wrong about him still being in love with his ex. “Does it get exhausting? Jumping from one bed to another? Do you think we deserve that?”

Roman swallowed. He was so caught up with his feelings for both women and their reaction to him that he never really took the time out to see what his indecisiveness was doing to them emotionally. “I was selfish and careless, and because of that, I hurt two of the most important women in my life, and for that, I’m sorry. You and Braelin will never know how sorry I am. So no, I don’t think my wife or the mother of children deserve that, but it’s the endless cycle that we managed to find ourselves in.”

“Ourselves? This isn't our situation, Roman. You cheated on me with your ex-girlfriend and got her pregnant. You did this, and now I have to sit back and watch you two share this connection that you refuse to have with me.”

“I never said I didn’t want kids with you. I just can’t think about that right now.”

Janelle laughed, “Right because your plate is already full with the little side family you manage to have on me.”

Roman knew nothing he could say would make this situation better for anyone. He fucked up and fucked around on his wife, and now these are the cards he has to deal with. So this only left him with one option: “You're right. This isn’t fair to you or Braelin, and that’s why I’m going to give you both the space you deserve.” He said before walking out of the house and past Braelin, who was watching the entire exchange.

November 30, 2011

“Friend of the birthday girl?”

Braelin laughed, “Yes, and no. She’s my cousin.”

Roman nodded, “The smile kind of gave it away.”

Braelin’s cheeks flushed, “and you must be related to the twins?”

“You see the family resemblance?”

Braelin rolled her eyes, “Not really. All of yall are major flirts.”

Roman grinned. “Can you blame us?”

Braelin shrugged, “I guess not. Want a beer?”

“Aren’t you a little young for that?”

“Boy, please. I’m twenty-one years old as of September 5th and have been drinking way longer than that. Either get on the bandwagon or move to the side.”

Roman threw his head back and laughed, “All that feistiness in that tiny package.”

Braelin popped a hand on her hip. “Don't let the small package fool you. I’m tough as hell.”

“I believe you. Now can I get my beer, please?”

Braelin laughed and tossed the beer to him “How long have you known Naomi?”

“Since she and Jimmy started dating in FCW.”

“You’re a wrestler! That makes so much sense.” She said, taking a sip of her beard, “How long have you been training?”

Roman shrugged, “I’ve been training for a while. NXT is good and all, but I’m ready for the main roster.”

Braelin nodded, “You have to appreciate a man who knows what he wants, but you know what they say practice makes perfect.”

Roman shook his head ”You believe that?”

“If I didn't, I wouldn't be in college, collecting this much debt to become a doctor.”

Roman had to admit he was a little thrown by her choice of profession. A girl like her would usually aim for a career as an entrepreneur or a model. Maybe a model was a stretch considering she barely stood 5’4 despite having the looks for it. “A doctor? Wow, I’m impressed.”

“Yea, you probably thought I would sell clothes on a website or something.” Braelin rolled her eyes when she noticed how guilty Roman looked. “As much as I can’t knock the hustle, that’s not for me.”

“Then tell me, pretty girl. What kind of doctor do you want to be?”

Braelin shrugged, looking at her hands a little, “I dunno. I’m still deciding.” 

Roman raised a brow before taking a sip of his beer. “Really? Usually, when someone commits to a career like this, they have a plan. Being a doctor  takes years of dedication and—“

“I know what it entails, thank you.”

Roman knew he had hit nerve, but for whatever reason, he felt she was holding back, so he decided to push her “Oh yeah? It seems to me you don’t know. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be hellbent on committing to something you had no intention of seeing through to the end. Why waste your time on something you don't care about when you can have something you actually want?”

Braelin blinked, not realizing she was that easy to read. “My mom wants me to become a doctor.”

He knew there was an ulterior motive behind her career choice “Ok, that’s fine, but what do you want.”

Braelin has been watching Naomi train for the last three years, and she couldn’t lie and say her interest hasn't peaked. So in her downtime, she’s been watching old wrestling footage in an attempt to train herself because she couldn't sign up for wrestling school without her parents finding out, “I want to wrestle.” She whispered, not making eye contact.

Braelin was ready to hear the laugh that followed by her admission. But when she looked up, she saw him staring at her intently.

“Ok, well, if you want to wrestle so badly, then I’ll help you get into wrestling school, and if you’re not ready for that, then I’ll train you myself.”

“You barely know me, and you’re offering to train me?”

Roman finished the last of his beer before tossing the bottle in the trash. “I’m a good judge of character, and something’s telling me you’re worth the investment.”

Braelin’s cheeks flushed suddenly, wishing she didn’t have a boyfriend.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Dante asked from his side of the bed. He noticed that she’s been on edge since everyone left after the cleanup.

Braelin bit down on the corner of her lip, not sure if she opened up this can of worms out of fear of losing him, but she knew it wouldn’t be fair to Dante if he went into this blindly “Janelle knows about everything.”

Dante blinked. “That explains why she’s been shooting daggers at you all night. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine. I’m relieved because this terrible secret doesn’t have to be held over my head forever, but at the same time, it makes everything feel real.”

Dante raised a brow “Really? It doesn’t get any more real than you being heavily pregnant, Brae.”

“I know that, and that’s why I’m ok with you bailing if this is too much.”

Dante rolled his eyes “We’ve been through this already, baby.”

“I know, and I feel like a broken record, but this isn’t fair to you. My drama and fucked up choices shouldn't come down on you” When he moved to approach her, Braelin took a step back “Don’t do that. I don’t want you to be ok with everything, especially not after I cheated on you.”

Dante shook his head moving to stand in front of his girlfriend “First of all, you didn’t cheat on me because we weren’t official, but now that we are I need you to know that I want us, I want you and I want to see where we can go. I will keep saying it until you believe it, but if this is too much and you don’t want this, then I need you to tell me,” he lifted her chin to look her in her green eyes. “Ok?”

Braelin nodded despite feeling as if she didn’t deserve him. She said, “Ok.” 

Survivor Series 2020

Roman sat next to the USO's at the announce table, going over their match. This year it would be faction vs. faction vs. faction: The Bloodline vs. Undisputed Era vs. Seth Rollins and his  Disciples for brand supremacy. As much as he was hyped about teaming with his family and competing against his brother,  his personal life had gone to hell in a hand basket. Since the barbecue, he and Braelin barely talked, and when they did, it had everything to do with the baby and the doctor appointments he often missed because he was on the road, which seemed to appease Janelle. 

Speaking of Janelle, after a few weeks of living in a hotel, Roman finally came back home despite wanting to keep his distance from both women on a romantic level, which is why he slept in the guestroom. 

Janelle wasn't to convince that their relationship was over and honestly? Neither was he. When he put that ring on Janelle’s finger, it was supposed to be forever. But that was all shot to hell when he fucked around on her not once but twice and with his ex of all people, and despite everything they’ve been through, he knew he still loved her.

Ok, smart ass, what about Braelin? His inner voice asked. 

 They were still friends, of course, and despite the relationship ending so abruptly, he knew there were some unresolved feelings there. The better word for it was love, asshole.

Roman sighed 

Love was the better word for it, and up until now, he had no problem admitting that to himself because he wasn’t hurting anyone, but now that no was no longer valid. He was hurting the two of the most important women in his life, and there was no way he was willing to put Braelin through another round of hell, especially now with his children in the mix.

Roman sighed and abruptly standing up, causing all three men to look in his direction.

“We ain’t done talking about the match?” Jey said from his seat next to Seth.

“I’ll be back; there’s just something I need to do. Besides, my head ain’t in it yet.”

Seth agreed, “I can tell since you haven’t listened to a word we said.”

Roman looked sheepishly, “My bad.”

Seth trusted Roman with his life, so he wasn’t worried about the big man carrying his shit with him into the ring and possibly hurting someone. He just knew whatever Roman was thinking about was creating emotional turmoil in the big dog. “Whatever it is, you want to talk about it?”

Roman looked around and saw all eyes on him. He knew they weren’t going to drop it, so he sai, “The twins are mine.”

Several eyes blinked. But it was Jimmy that said, “That makes sense.”

Jey nodded “When you told us that you and Brae fucked I didn’t know you hit—“

Roman’s eyes narrowed, “Hey, man. Besides, it’s not like we wanted any of this to happen. It just happened.”

“So, what’s the plan? Are you and Braelin going to give it another try?”

Roman rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m married, and she’s with Dante.”

“Yea, but that hasn’t stopped shit before,” Jey said with a shrug causing Roman to flinch. “I know the whole situation is fucked up, but you and Brae had something most people wait a lifetime to find, but you ended up fucking that up when you went back to Janelle.”

Roman rolled his eyes “I’m sorry I thought you said something useful that could help the situation.”

Seth decided to chime in. “The only thing that could help this situation is honesty, and we all know it’s a little bit late in the game for that. But the least you can do is be honest with what you want and who you want.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want because I’ve already decided to keep my distance from both of them.”

Jimmy raised a brow “Really? You moved back into your house with Janelle, and you’re what? Co-parenting with B? Yea, that’s a whole lot of space.”

“What the fuck do y’all want me to do?” Roman snapped “I fucked up and cheated on my wife and got my ex-girlfriend pregnant. But you want to know something I fucked up away before then by letting Braelin walk away because I wasn’t ready to get my shit together. Now I’m paying the price. She’s happy, and it has nothing to do with me and you know what as selfish as it is, I fucking hate it. But it’s what I deserve, and more importantly, it’s what she deserves.”

Jey held up his water bottle. “Now that you finally got that off your chest, are you ready to plan this main event?”

Roman looked around the arena and noticed that all eyes were on him “Yea, let’s do this.”

Braelin looked over Dante, who was busy talking to the photographer. Today was her maternity shoot, and she wanted this experience to be perfect and unbeknownst to her boyfriend; she was doing her shoot naked. 

“Baby, please leave that poor man alone and let him do his job.”

Dante shook his head “Where’s the stylist? They should’ve been here an hour ago?”

Braelin laughed, “Honey, there’s no stylist here because I won’t be wearing any clothes.”

Dante blinked before turning his attention to the photographer who didn’t even bother hiding his amusement, “You mean you’re doing this shoot naked?”

Braelin nodded, “As a Jaybird.”

Dante cleared his throat. Not at all ok with some other dude seeing his girl naked before he even had the chance too. “Is it too late to change the photographer.”

The photographer rolled his eyes, “If it helps your ego. I’m gay and would rather see you naked than your pregnant girlfriend.” He looked at Braelin, “No offense, B.”

Braelin smirked, “None taken. But I do have an idea.” she looked in between both men “Marty, I won’t be needing your services today, and don’t worry, you’ll still get paid for the day.”

That seemed to appease the photographer before he left the couple alone.

Dante held up his hand. “Look, you don’t have to send him away on my account. I know how important this is to you and—“

Braelin nodded, “You’re right, it is important, and that’s why I’m still going to do my photo shoot.”

“Without a photographer?”

Braelin shook her head, “I have a photographer, you.”

Dante laughed dryly, “I’m not a photographer.”

Braelin disagreed wholeheartedly. “Those pictures you took of me last night says otherwise.” She said, taking off her robe and tossing it to the side, “You just need the right motivation.”

Dante licked his lips. “Damn,” he whispered, taking the camera off its stand. “You trust me with this?”

“I trust you to make me look the same way you make me feel. That's why I couldn’t have picked a better man for this.”

Dante had a feeling they were no longer talking about the photoshoot “What are you saying?” he said while snapping pictures

“I’m saying that I choose you and will always choose you because I think you will be the best choice I’ll ever make.”

As friends, they’ve known each other for a long time, but as lovers, it’s new, but sometimes something new can be the thing that’s worth holding onto.

Dante sat the camera on the stand before taking Braelin in his arms and kissing her with everything he had. Braelin licked his lips in which he happily obliged as her tongue slid into his mouth. What had started out gentle quickly became passionate and heated as his large hand slid into her hair and gave it a gentle tug as his tongue trailed a hot path down her neck, causing her shiver.

“Fuck.” Dante whispered heatedly, “I want you so much right now.”

She whimpered as he captured her lips with his once more “I want to taste you, please baby, let me taste.”

Seeing Braelin's green eyes was so clouded with lust that the sight made his dick jump, “I want you to do a lot more than taste.” She said, biting his chin gently.

That was all he needed to hear.

Braelin legs cleared the floor and were instantly wrapped around Dante’s waist. He sat her down on a pile of pillows that was going to be used as props for the photoshoot but would come in handy for what he had in mind.

Dante removed his shirt, followed by the grey jogging pants he was wearing, causing his dick to spring free.

Damn. Braelin thought. He had to be nine inches long and thick enough to fill her in all the places she hasn’t been filled since.

Don’t even go there, her mind chastised. 

Dante’s dick was a thing of beauty as it pointed accusingly at her while leaking precum.

 Dante gave his dick two pumps before crawling over Braelin and capturing her lips once more. “I think I said something about tasting” he grinned against her lips.

“Let’s see what that tongue can do.” she whispered.

Dante smirked before leaving wet kisses down her protruding stomach and thighs. She didn’t have to wait long as his tongue jutted out and lapped at her clit like a kitten causing Braelin to moan loudly.

“You taste so good baby.” he said in between licks spreading her legs wider and inserting a finger which almost caused Braelin to shoot off the pillows. “So fucking good.”

Dante played her pussy like an instrument. He knew how lick and how to rotate his finger enough to make her squirm so her end was coming sooner than she liked “I’m finna come.”

Dante took that as a sign to double his efforts by literally fucking her with his tongue and that did it she came so fucking hard.

When Dante came up from between her thighs the top of his nose and the whiskers of his beard was covered in her juices “Ready for round one?” He whispered against her lips.