#and a stiff wind can knock me over. and i also come with an extensive collection of terrible literature. most of it not even in english

[milkweedman]

Went to go buy a little more soil bc i figured the cucumbers are big enough to transplant and it got sunny and was nice weather for a little gardening.

Ended up planting very nearly everything, although not any of the flowers and not the beets bc i dropped them and they were so small i couldnt find them again :(

And also bought a lemon cucumber, crookneck squash, and zuccini, bc ... well .. they were cheapish and i didnt have any seeds of those but love growing all 3. So i planted those in as well... probably overcrowded the garden plot at this point but those peas are gonna come out in the summer when they die....probably same with the leafy greens. So once everythings big there'll be more space anyway.

But yeah... turned a quick bit of morning gardening into an all day thing, forgot to eat, forgot to change my bandages, and by the end of it i was just kind of standing in front of the crookneck squash for long periods, staring into space, head empty, totally caked in dirt, and about to fall over.

Was about to say i need someone to hang around me on weekends to make sure i dont accidentally garden long enough that passing out in the mud is an appealing optiin, but like. Just realized a perk of getting married is my husband gets that very dubious honor :3

[plumoh]

[SK8] down the waves of august

Word count: 4035

Summary: Skating under the scorching sun, sitting on the porch and eating popsicles—this is summer, and Kojirou doesn't take his eyes off Kaoru.

Note: AO3 link. This is high school era, so there are strong vibes of one-sided Kojirou/Kaoru, and a lot of pining Kojirou. They're still having fun though!

It never starts with Kojirou dragging Kaoru to a new skateboarding spot or an ice cream shop, even though he recently got his license to legally drive a bike that will allow him to go anywhere he wants.

It always starts with Kaoru showing up at Kojirou’s house with a grander than life energy and never-ending excitement that transforms every one of his steps into a skip. He’s smiling and shining, like there’s nothing more valuable than taking the biggest breath of air and swallowing it whole to absorb the freedom summer is giving them.

“Let’s go,” Kaoru says, shoving his fist against Kojirou’s chest with a grin. “Take your board.”

It’s nine in the morning on a summer day of their last high school summer vacation, and Kojirou doesn’t even think about his homework or his cram school classes as he follows Kaoru’s extended hand, guiding him towards a world where nothing matters except the smell of fresh flowers and the sight of a back showing him the way.

***

They’re sweaty, exhausted and hungry but Kojirou finds himself grinning like a fool as he collapses on the stairs of his house porch, skateboard in hand. Kaoru follows suit, placing his hands on the cool stone of the stairs, and lets out a long sigh as he tips his head back, some of his hair falling out of the low bun as he does so. Kojirou glances at the curve of Kaoru’s exposed neck, then quickly averts his eyes.

“We should go back to that skatepark tomorrow,” Kojirou suggests, still high on adrenaline. “I’ve got classes until 3 pm, we’ll have enough time before my mom starts calling me to get home.”

Summer classes suck, and Kojirou would have gladly spent his days lazing around and eating junk food while watching shows on TV, or skateboarding until his legs couldn’t take it anymore, but university entrance exams aren’t going to be passed without extensive studying. Simply thinking about them is enough for Kojirou’s good mood to drop.

“We should,” Kaoru answers slowly.

Kaoru’s face is turned towards the reddening sky. Even though the sun is setting, drowning the white facade of the houses into warmer shades, it’s still hot and way too humid for Kojirou’s taste. All summer is going to be like this—uncomfortable, sticky and heavy, but nothing he isn’t used to. He’ll complain about the weather until Kaoru gets annoyed and complains about him, then they’ll buy a week’s worth of popsicles to eat in one afternoon as they do their homework and they’ll go skating at night, once they’re free from obligations and the crushing heat.

This is what summer is supposed to be like. The view from his porch, from his family’s army of bicycles near the gate to the neighbor’s wind chime hanging on the first floor’s window and to the cat wandering on the roofs, is familiar and reassuring in its immutability. Kojirou has spent countless hours sitting here with Kaoru until dinner time, until one of them starts fidgeting because the stairs are stiff and uncomfortable and really not the place to sit on for a prolonged period of time. Kaoru’s traditional house would be a much more logical choice to hang out at; but both of them know it wouldn’t be the same.

When Kojirou stares at Kaoru’s figure, still looking at the infinite stretch of sky and gaze seemingly lost somewhere that Kojirou is not allowed to enter, he realizes that this summer will be different.

“You’re staying for dinner?” Kojirou asks, scraping his shoe against a hole in their paved pathway leading to the stairs they’ve never bothered fixing. “For some reason as we grow older, my family gets more excited when you stay for dinner. Eisuke is even asking for you.”

Kaoru shifts and turns fully towards Kojirou, his face the slightest bit surprised before his lips are curled into a smirk. The light of the sunset makes the color of his hair and of his eyes even more vibrant, like he was meant to be seen at this time of the day, when the sun recedes and the stars arise, and Kojirou almost misses what Kaoru says.

“That’s because I’m way cooler than you,” Kaoru snickers. “I’m a better role model for Eisuke than you are, you’re a lame big brother.”

Kaoru’s laugh comes from within, resonating deep in the front yard, filling it with the image of a breeze strong enough to make people sway and stagger, knocked off their feet by how genuine it is. The weight pulling at the strings in Kojirou’s heart grows bigger and heavier with each passing day, but no more painful.

Kojirou shakes his head. “Excuse you, he doesn’t need to be taught how to be a delinquent at twelve years old. You’re not even half the delinquent you pretend to be!”

“Still cooler than you are, stupid!” Kaoru retorts, and jumps to his feet. “I’m gonna eat everything in your fridge. Do you still have ice pops?”

Kaoru doesn’t even wait for his answer as he darts towards the door, easily sidestepping Kojirou and jumping over the last steps of the stairs in springy leaps. Kojirou, momentarily dazed, scrambles to get up but he’s not fast enough to stop Kaoru from turning the doorknob and dashing into the house like he owns the place. Shoes are carelessly thrown aside in the genkan while loud footsteps on the perfectly polished floor resound like an entire class of toddlers are raiding Kojirou’s home, which is not too far removed from the truth. Kaoru is laughing like a maniac.

“Don’t act like this is your house, you punk!” Kojirou shouts, making just as much noise as Kaoru in his chase, down to the kitchen. “Who said you could take the ice pops in the first place!”

“Your stuff is also my stuff!” Kaoru replies, almost hitting his face against the fridge when his steps screech to a halt in front of it.

“Stop stealing my food!”

“Hey, you have Papico ice cream too, nice!”

“I thought you didn’t like Papico—”

“Boys, play nice.”

Both of them jerk away from the fridge and swivel their heads to Kojirou’s mother, who is watching them with the kind of fond exasperation and amusement she adorns only when she thinks they won’t remember any of her words as soon as she leaves them be. Kojirou clears his throat and grabs Kaoru’s arm, pulling him along and shoving him to the front like a shield, ignoring Kaoru’s grunts.

“Kaoru was stealing our ice cream,” Kojirou says flatly.

“You’d let me starve?” Kaoru gasps.

“We’re going to eat dinner soon enough, you glutton!”

“You eat way more than I do! And after skating all afternoon we need snacks to help us cool down!”

Kojirou’s mother sighs, mutely shaking her head. She lifts her hand and points at the bathroom at the end of the corridor, tutting.

“No ice cream before dinner, go wash your hands, and help me set up the table. Kaoru-kun, don’t leave your bag in the front yard and bring it inside.”

“Yes,” Kojirou and Kaoru chorus.

Once they brush past Kojirou’s mother, they start kicking and pushing at each other to get first in the bathroom, then they flick water at the other’s eyes like it’s some sort of childish competition before they remember that Kojirou’s mother is waiting for them and probably expecting them to be on their best behavior (as behaved as they can be).

Kaoru goes to retrieve his bag and opts to drop it in the genkan beside his still carelessly thrown aside shoes. Were it someone else’s house, he most likely would have neatly put them away—but this is Kojirou’s house, always loud and welcoming and warm. Kaoru then bounds towards the kitchen to give a hand to Kojirou’s mother, moving with the confidence of someone knowing where the cracks on the pavement are and choosing to dance around them. He’s allowing himself to be extravagant in the company of people who are, at this point in his life, basically his relatives.

Kojirou watches the ease with which Kaoru reaches into cupboards and rummages through drawers under his mother’s orders, and he thinks it strange how natural Kaoru’s presence is in his house. Strange, but not unpleasant; Kaoru brings a warm gust of wind and slips into every rift left open for him to poke his head into. Kojirou sees the way his mother smiles and guides Kaoru like he has lived here all his life, waving a wooden spatula around and telling him to go fetch this and that, and Kaoru complies without a single complaint. It does something funny to Kojirou’s stomach, which he squashes down by breathing in deeply and rubbing his temples.

It’s fine. Kojirou is eighteen years old, and this is the last summer he can spend with Kaoru before responsibilities catch up to them. It won’t change anything.

***

Kojirou doesn’t ask why Kaoru wants to skate every day, despite their obvious amount of workload that barely diminishes as the long days of summer stretch into the end of August. It’s simply easier to pretend that everything pushing them around like they’re trapped in a train full of people, from the urgency to get grades above 80 points to the quiet expectation of finding a more socially acceptable hobby, doesn’t exist. For a few hours in the hot night of the city, Kojirou lets himself believe that this freedom of choosing will last for a while longer.

Kaoru starts to skate differently; he brings a notebook with him and scrawls remarks and numbers of his performance, comparing the different results of complicated tricks, and asks Kojirou to evaluate how accurate his predictions are. He looks so focused and sure of himself, unravelling this perfectionist side he’s kept under layers of piercings and aggressive language. Kojirou has never understood why Kaoru was so adamant on accomplishing things that contradict other, more established achievements of himself—like that time he said he wasn’t aiming at a better computer science university outside of Okinawa, despite his excellent grades and hunger for learning all he can; or the obvious question of why he keeps doing calligraphy with such dedication when the love he has for this art is nowhere near the amount of love he’s pouring into artificial intelligence.

“You know, I’m not a computer,” Kojirou sighs, trying to make sense of Kaoru’s instructions. “I can’t calculate all these things as fast, and I don’t even understand what you’re trying to do.”

“That’s because you skate without finesse,” Kaoru answers, an argument he’s repeated multiple times these past weeks. “You can turn anything into art, or something graceful and technical if you put effort into it.”

“Huh. Sounds like a lot of unnecessary trouble.”

Kaoru glares at him but keeps skating, going up and down the spine, jumping at the last second to flip his board and landing smoothly without making his wheels cry in agony. Kojirou doesn’t think it’s as satisfying as hearing the screech of the wheels against the asphalt—hearing how close the board is to the ground makes his performance even more spectacular and boisterous, like fireworks bursting into colors.

It’s past dinner time. They both warned their families they wouldn’t make it home on time—Kojirou received a message from his mother telling him to be careful, and Kaoru was asked to get back not too late. The skatepark is empty save for the both of them and two kids accompanied by their father at the funbox, all of them foolish enough to continue sweating after hours spent under the scorching sun. Kojirou is sitting at the top of the half-pipe, elbow propped up on his knee and chin resting in his hand, observing Kaoru. There is tension in Kaoru’s shoulders that wasn’t there before, slowing him down and making his skating stiffer, stilted, like some sort of insurmountable obstacle stopping his progress.

“Hey,” Kojirou calls, tone softer than usual. “Still no signs of Adam?”

Kaoru comes back at his side, gives him a single glance, and shrugs.

“Probably stuck at home or something. We can go a few days without him.”

And he goes down again, this time even faster and correcting his trajectory. Kojirou rolls his eyes and resists the urge to call on Kaoru’s bullshit, because it’s so infuriatingly obvious how upset he is at not being able to skate with Adam. Kojirou doubts it’s the sole reason for Kaoru’s bad mood, but it is definitely a factor and he doesn’t wish to ponder on it longer than necessary, lest he starts having ugly, intrusive thoughts.

“Hurry up, I’m hungry!” Kojirou says. “We’re getting ramen and you’re paying!”

“Why am I the one paying—”

Kojirou doesn’t ask why Kaoru is skating like his life depends on it, why it looks like this is the last time he will touch a skateboard. He waits, like he always has, until Kaoru is ready to tell him what’s been bothering him.

***

Cicadas are screaming and making a nuisance of themselves, even if the patch of grass and trees is two blocks over Kojirou’s house. He listens to them as he eats the popsicle he’s legitimately won by beating Kaoru at janken, idly thinking that maybe it’s counterproductive to sit on the porch when they have an electric fan in the living room to fight against the heat. Kaoru, leaning all his body weight against Kojirou because he likes being insufferable, is cradling his can of cola in one hand and playing some game on his smartphone in the other, looking deep in thoughts. Kojirou specifically does not think about their proximity and the warm point of contact between them.

“You’re heavy,” Kojirou mumbles.

“That will help you build muscle,” Kaoru says flatly, not budging at all.

It’s too hot to continue arguing, especially since Kojirou’s brain feels fried and unavailable for the next twenty-four hours. This is probably one of the hottest summers they’ve had, blinded by rays of sunlight and reduced to mush by the heavy air, dragging their feet from one point to another and doing at most three tasks a day, including attending classes and doing homework. Which doesn’t leave enough brain space for mundane activities like deep thinking.

And yet Kaoru still has that troubled look on his face that Kojirou wants to douse with cold water. Long strands of pink hair are falling over Kojirou’s shoulder—he can smell the stupid floral scent of his shampoo that drives him insane, the one they’ve chosen after spending thirty minutes comparing a dozen different brands at the store. He lifts a hand with the intention of touching them before remembering himself, and withdrawing just as quickly. How simple a gesture it is, and how easy a shift it would bring in their relationship.

“Say, Kaoru.”

“Hm?”

“We’re not going to drift apart once we graduate, right?”

Neither of them is going to leave Okinawa, for the time being. Their universities, if they get into the one they want, will be in opposite parts of the island. They can text and call each other, and they will most likely come visit their parents during breaks—it’s not like they are leaving for another country.

It dawns on Kojirou, then, that he and Kaoru have never spent a prolonged period of time apart since they met in middle school. The thought gnaws at him and wraps a tight hand around his chest; he chances a look at Kaoru, and finds golden eyes staring at him with incredulity and faint amusement in equal measures.

“I think it would take something bigger for us to stop talking,” Kaoru says. “Your flip phone looks ugly but at least it’s working.”

“Not everyone can get a smartphone of the latest technology,” Kojirou grumbles, though his entire posture relaxes. “I’ll detail in my emails the ingredients of my delicious meals while you’re eating instant ramen or sandwiches bought at the convenient store. I’ll even send you pics!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, maybe your meals will look pretty but they won’t be tasty.”

“I’ve never heard you complain about my food before.”

“There’s a first to everything, you naive idiot.”

Kaoru presses himself closer to Kojirou and almost manages to tip him over the porch, but Kojirou simply laughs and grips Kaoru’s shoulder to steady the both of them. Perhaps this is why they choose the porch and not the crowded space of Kojirou’s living room; a moment shared between the two of them, listening to the cacophony of nature and suffering the heat solely for the opportunity to exist together.

Kaoru doesn’t say anything else, returning his attention to his game and Kojirou thinks that maybe, as long as he lets himself believe it, this is the peace they will always carry within themselves.

***

Their bikes were left abandoned on the sideroad, out of the way for people to circulate freely but still parked in a haphazard manner that would have made their parents yell. It’s not Kojirou’s biggest concern though, and this is hardly the most unforgivable inconvenience they’ve perpetrated.

The sun is hanging low in the sky, kissing the edge of the sea and covering the entire beach in warm tones. The elevated highway running across the water sounds just as noisy as usual, bringing some sort of twisted rhythm to their footsteps on the soft sand. It’s quiet; not many people are agglutinated on the shore, and even less are taking a walk alongside the waves.

Kojirou’s bare feet are crunching the sand and the pebbles in slow and measured steps, following Kaoru’s trail in front of him. They left their shoes somewhere near their bikes, throwing aside what was in the end a dead weight they would have had to carry. They don’t come to the beach nearly enough—it’s a place where nothing seems to matter, all worries drowned by the steady sound of the waves and by the tickling breeze caressing their hair. Kojirou walks and lets his mind rest.

Kaoru is walking backwards, tracing a path he’s the only one visualizing one step at a time, carefully and gently. He doesn’t exude his usual fiery energy that burns everything around him; he’s calm, but not in a worrying way. Kojirou’s eyes never stray away from Kaoru’s figure.

“You’re going to trip,” Kojirou says.

“There is less risk of tripping in walking backwards than in skating,” Kaoru replies with a snort. “And even if I do, the sand’s not going to hurt me.”

“I would catch you anyway.”

Kaoru looks up from his feet. For one short, miraculous second, Kojirou thinks that there is hope in Kaoru’s eyes, but it vanishes in a blink and he’s left with a crooked grin.

“Maybe, if you’re fast enough,” Kaoru teases.

Kojirou’s shoulders lift in an overt, deliberate shrug. “I’m as fast as Adam.”

It’s half-petty, half-true, but Kaoru doesn’t pick up on the obvious disdain in Kojirou’s words and chooses to burst out laughing. His voice carries high and far, as clear and limpid as water, and his face breaks into an expression of pure joy that lights up his eyes. Kojirou stares, mesmerized and feeling stupid for still being caught off guard by all the alluring facets Kaoru is willing to leave open to be scrutinized.

“You’re trying to show off?” Kaoru asks, mirth in his eyes.

“I don’t want to hear it from mister I’ll-steal-your-thunder-anytime,” Kojirou snorts. “I’m not showing off if it’s true.”

“Then prove it.”

Kojirou raises an eyebrow, momentarily confused. Kaoru is still grinning as he splays his arms wide, something wild glinting in his golden irises. It’s only when Kaoru starts tipping backwards that Kojirou understands what kind of crazy shit he’s come up with and he leaps into action, his left foot kicking the sand and his right arm shooting forward. One or ten curses fly out of his mouth as he forcefully grabs Kaoru’s arm in one hand and grips his shoulder in the other, then yanks him towards himself.

For a few seconds, this moment floats in the air and remains suspended. Kojirou’s feet are half-buried in the sand in his rush to catch Kaoru, covered in an odd veil of warmth that somehow feels comforting, making him take root in this spot. He’s completely drunk on the sight of Kaoru, face too close and illuminated by the faint light of the setting sun, hair out of his eyes and piercings gleaming, his lips curled into a satisfied and lazy smirk. The sound of the waves is but a distant noise to Kojirou over the hammering of his heartbeat and the ringing in his ears. And for a few seconds, he wants nothing more than to lean down and kiss Kaoru.

The spell shatters and breaks when Kaoru lifts his hand and flicks Kojirou’s forehead, tearing a long groan out of him.

“That hurts, you know!” Kojirou grumbles.

“That’s only a tickle, you big baby,” Kaoru says, rolling his eyes. “Well, I guess you prove you’re not completely useless.”

Kaoru wrenches his arm back and straightens up, making a show of dusting off his shirt and smoothing the wrinkles. Kojirou silently lets his arms fall at his sides, fingers still burning from the contact.

The wind is picking up. Kaoru turns his face towards the sky, and this—Kaoru’s profile, shining bright against the orange hue of the beach and the sky, devoid of worry and looking serene, is what matters the most to Kojirou.

“Summer’s ending,” Kaoru sighs, closing his eyes. “We still have a few months left together. And then it’s another kind of life entirely.”

“We’ve already established we’re not going to stop being friends,” Kojirou points out as he extracts his feet from the sand, tracing formless shapes in it instead. “Or are you already forgetting things from like, two days ago?”

“I was just making sure you remembered it, bastard.” Kaoru pauses; the sudden silence finally leaves space for the muffled noises of the water running on the sand. When he speaks again, his voice comes from the deepest well of his resolve. “You’ll become a cook and I’ll become the next renown calligrapher of Sakurayashiki studio. That’s how we’ve decided to grow up.”

Long days of unconcealed frustration, helpless screams about not being able to pursue a more profitable career and disappointment at his own inability to fully let go of something that has been transplanted in him since birth, leading to defeat simmered in rage—these memories come back in Kojirou’s mind unbidden and leave a bitter taste in his mouth. The puzzle pieces of Kaoru’s mood scattered across all summer move into place. But Kaoru is smiling and determined not to show weakness, even if the lines of his eyes are still angry, and who is Kojirou to not fall a little bit more in love with this flawed yet beautiful person that is Sakurayashiki Kaoru?

“We’ll grow up and become boring adults, but we’ll still be the same people,” Kojirou says with a smile of his own.

Kaoru slowly opens his eyes and looks over. Kojirou lifts his closed fist, expectant, and Kaoru obligingly bumps it with his own. A silly, mechanical gesture that accompanied them for years, like a sign of their bond that does nothing but strengthen and bloom with each passing day.

They are both sporting a grin as if they’ve just completed the best races of their lives. For once, Kojirou lets himself wholly acknowledge the pleasant fire that travels from his stomach to his chest, spreading a tingling sensation all over his body that makes him feel like he’s skateboarding at the highest speed with the certainty of victory under his wheels. He could get addicted to this quiet storm with the scent of spring brewing in his heart.

“Boring adults with boring friends,” Kaoru adds.

“That’s only natural,” Kojirou laughs.

The sun is dipping farther into the sea now—the colors are changing, gradually engulfing the beach in colder shades, but no less stunning.

Summer is ending, and new resolutions are starting.

[animekath]

Little Strawberry

Milo X Reader

Hey guys, Kat here! I’m back after so long! I’m sorry about the long wait; I have been so tired from work and just got drained into doing any writing at all! But I’ve wanted to do a story for the past week now, so here we are!

My work friends and I were talking about the hotties in Pokemon; one picked Piers, and the other picked Leon, while I picked Milo! I can’t help myself; I love the big and cuddly boys, don’t judge me! I was interested in doing a smut story about him, so here I am!

I hope you enjoy it! Sorry for spelling and grammar! My dyslexic ass > v >”

Words: 3457

Warning: Sweet, teasing, grinding, fingering, riding, size kink, praising, swearing, creampie, gentle to rough sex, a soft boy with a big D!

Enjoy!

Milo; one of the best gym leaders and carries grass-type Pokemon to battle. He’s big, strong and fearless but also has a heart of gold and admired by his other gym leaders in the Galar region.

That same man was also your boyfriend.

How you met was a Riveting and even romantic story. Wild Thievul’s were hunting you across the field until Milo came in-between to shield you, helping you up when they ran off and guided you to his house in Turffield. His home was practically covered in flowers from top to bottom, even having a more extensive garden for himself and his pokemon. Milo introduced himself as he aided you, wrapping your ankle where one of the wild Pokemon bit you, letting you know you can rest in his house if you like. You were flattered but told him it was not necessary; you didn’t want to bother him already. He was a Gym leader, it must not be an easy job to do, but he was determined for you to know that you were no bother, even letting you borrow his bed to sleep.

After that, you would come by his house with gifts and treats as a thank you. It made Milo pleased to see you a lot more. But the more you started to see each other, the more you liked each other. Your face would heat up while Milo was a bit blundering and flustered when any contact or even flirting happened. His Wooloo got sick of the back and forth, so he bumped you into Milo so he could hold you. When that happened, he didn’t want to let you go, and you didn’t want to pull away, which made you both ending up kissing that sunny afternoon. 

It’s been a few months in the relationship, and it was going swimmingly well! He was busy in the gym half the time, so you would go to applaud him on, always excited to watch him battle. Then after, you would go back to his house and treat yourselves with scones and tea.

God, you loved this big man so much. He made you feel protective and loved; it made your chest tighten. But for a flustered and kind man, he could do so much to you in the bedroom, that just thinking about it made your knees weak.

And did the large man have a large package?

Yes.

Yes, indeed, he did!

It was the second month until he took you to the bedroom, anxious and a bit insecure about what you would think. He was single this whole time because people couldn’t take him or just backed away instantly. But not you..! Of course, you were shocked at first, but you didn’t back down from his size. You had no idea how happy Milo was when you took him but got worried when you nearly passed out at the end.

And today was going to be the same.

“Milo..! You in?” You called out as you knocked on the wooden door, waiting for him to open the door as you felt your summer dress flow across your legs by the wind. You never wear dresses often, but the sun was out for once in Galar. You also know Milo gets blushing when you expose your skin and you notice him glancing at your legs once or twice.

The door finally opened; your boyfriend into full view with dirt covering his T-shirt. “My sweet strawberry..! I’m happy to see you!” He was about to hug you, but you placed a hand on his chest, pointing at the dirt covering him. “Oh, sorry. I was doing some gardening.” Milo said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’ll hug you when you change, so I’ll give you this.” You gave the larger man a sweet kiss on his lips, making him lean towards you but paused when you pulled away with a teasing smile, making him huff. Milo shut the door when you came in, going upstairs to change.

You always loved his home; It was covered with paintings of pokemon and flowers; one photo displaying him and the other gym leaders on top of his fireplace. Your eyes glanced at the smaller one next to it with a smile, seeing it was you, Milo and his Eldegoss. As you were looking over the photos, you felt two big arms going around your waist. “How is my sweet strawberry doing?” He asked with a giant smile on his face, snuggling into your neck.

You giggled when his peach coloured hair tickled your neck. “I’m fine...I got a surprise for you.” You said before pulling away to turn to him, Milo seeing the Pokeball between you both. “I got a Pokemon..!” You spoke with exhilaration in your voice.

“Congratulations!” Milo said brightly before hugging you again. “Come on, come on, show me your new friend..!” He said before backing away. You tossed your Pokeball into the air for the pokemon to come out, a small tail wagging when he came to display. “A Yamper? Heh, how am I not surprised?” He chuckled as he kneeled, letting him sniff his hand before stroking him. “You have been talking about getting one since I met you.”

“Well they’re so cute, and their evolved form is also adorable!” You chuckled as you watched your boyfriend. “I like him. I’m going to take care of him and train him up to be strong..!” You said with determination. "Just like my big boyfriend."

“Good! I’ll help in any way I can. I can be your trainer.” He grinned as he got up, opening his back door for the Pokemon to run outside. “Maybe that’ll get me more treats.”

“You get many treats anyway.” You snickered at his wide grin.

“Then where are they now? I don't see any treats.” He questioned you, his large hands on his hips as he tilted his head to the side.

“Hmm...Me?” You raised a brow, Milo’s face instantly flushed. You couldn’t hold back your giggle at his expression, seeing he was trying to find the right words. “I mean...I did wear this for you.” You said, playing with the ends of the fabric. “Do you like it?” You asked him as you walked over, placing a hand on his broad chest.

“Ur...Y-Yeah, of course, I do..!” The poor man shuttered out, his body stiff as a board when you touched him. Oh god, why does he get like this when you do the tiniest things!? You turned, so your back was touching his chest, your hips lightly pressed against him. “Don’t tease, love...You know I...”

“Hm?” You hummed innocently, your hips bucked against his, his knuckles turning white. Since Milo knew you could take him, he finds it harder to control himself around you. “Oh..!” You gasped, feeling the tent in his pants which poked between your ass cheeks. “Oh my...Is that your big Metapod using harden?” You purred out, hearing the larger man whine with desperation and embarrassment. You couldn’t help but tease him. You got over the flustered stage in your relationship, and he needs to as well. It wasn’t a bad thing, you loved him like this, but he needed a push once in a while.

“_-_____...” Milo muttered your name against your head, biting his bottom lip when you didn’t stop, his throbbing shaft resuming to rub against you when you moved. “Hah...Plea...” He grunted, at his final peak. But when you pulled up your dress to show your flowery underwear, that made him snap. “Love..!” You gasped when his large hands grasped your breasts, rubbing and pressing them together from behind as he practically humped you. “You need to stop teasing me.” He whined against your ear, his fingers gently rubbing and pinching your nipples over the dress, making you whimper by his touch. “Because...Then...I...I won’t stop.”

“M-Milo..!” You shuttered out, placing a hand on his. “I don’t want you to stop...I want you to L-Loosen up.” You rubbed up against him again, hearing Milo’s breath hitch.

You felt your dress loosen on your shoulders and chest; now the fabric pooled on the floor. “God, you’re so beautiful.” He sighs against your skin as he kisses along your shoulder, his hand palming your chest as the other slipped between your legs. “I am a lucky man to have you.” He groaned when his middle finger ran along your pussy lips, a small smile spread on his lips. “Did I excite you that much, love?” Milo asked against your neck.

“You always do.” You whined, before feeling his hands pull away. Milo leads you to his couch, sitting down first so you could sit across his lap. Milo slipped off your bra and underwear with ease, humming at the naked sight of you. He let you rest your head on his chest while he parted your legs, two fingers rubbing your pussy again. “Mmn...” You bit your lip as you held onto him, loving how gently he was, even at his size. “Milo...”

His middle finger slipped inside your folds, groaning as you soaked his finger already. “My little strawberry...I know you love this. My fingers are dancing inside you and getting you prepared for my size.” He hummed as he watched his finger slip in and out of you, making your face heat up by the lewd sounds when he thrust it inside. “Heh, no need to hide from me. I love watching you enjoy this.” Milo was the type of man that cared about your pleasure than his. Milo’s aching cock was begging for release from his shorts but held himself for you.

“M-Milo...Ah..!” You gasped when a second finger joined, now pumping and scissoring your tight pussy, which made you stir on his lap. “O-Oh, fuck...More. Give me more. I-I want your fingers to fuck me.” You weakly begged your boyfriend, his face going red again but did what you asked. His fingers increased in speed, your juices leaking out and dripped down to the couch and even staining his shorts.

“You’re doing such a good job...” Milo bit his lip as he continued to watch, knowing you want to close your legs, but he didn’t let you. He wanted to see every part of you, even the parts you got insecure about deep down. He loved you and your body, happy to know that each piece was his. Oh god, just the thought made him close to climaxing in his shorts. “Do you want more?” He asked, politely.

“Y-Yes, yes..! Please, Milo...Fuck me. Oh, please..! take me, Milo!” You begged, your hips bucking up into his hands. Milo got putty from your words. “Ah!” You cried out when his fingers curled, rubbing on the sensitive area which made you moan louder, your walls tightening around his fingers. “M-Milo, don’t-! I’ll-!” Your hands tightly gripped onto his shirt when he didn’t stop, his fingers soaked from your juices. “F-Fuck..! I’m coming-! Yes!” Before you could come, Milo paused. "H-Hey..!"

“Not yet.” He grinned when you stared at him. That evil man! He pulled his fingers out slowly, looking over his hand before giving them a lick. “W-Wow...You taste so good, _____. Maybe next time, I...I can eat you out?” He questioned, looking at you with a nervous smile.

“Hah...You’re so cute...” You returned the smile, placing a kiss on his lips which he happily returned. You fully sat on his lap, undoing his belt to his shorts and tugged them down with his boxers, having hearts in your eyes when you saw his cock slap against his stomach. Every time you saw him, it sent titillation through your body. Milo tossed his shirt aside when you got distracted, his hand, which was wet from your excitement, was slowly pumping his shaft to lube himself up.

“J-Just lower yourself onto me, okay? Take your time.” Milo shuttered out, his free hand gently caressing your hip. You nod as your hands rubbed his chest and abs, going down to trace his shaft which made him twitch against your touch. You loved his size. He couldn’t fit around your mouth nor hand; it was a challenge you couldn’t win. The only way to take it whole was your pussy, and even then, it could be a struggle sometimes.

You placed a hand on his shoulder while the other lined himself against your entrance, rubbing the hot tip along your slit before slipping it in. “Mmm...” You bit your lip as you started to lower yourself, your boyfriend was gripping your hips as you gulped up his shaft, inch by inch going in. “S-Shit...Oh, you’re stretching me.” You whimpered out, going teary-eyed by the pressure. "I love it."

“I-I do too but, please. Ah...Take your time.” He exhaled out as he watched you with concern on his face when he felt your thighs shake. Fuck it, going slow was dragging. You gripped his shoulders with both hands and slammed the many inches down inside you fast, crying out when his end nearly ripped your womb in half. “L-Love!?” He embraced your small body when you started to shake, feeling your nails digging into his broad shoulders. “I’ll pull out, okay? I’ll-”

“N-No..!” You shook your head, looking up at him with a weak smile. “Let me...Let me get used to it.” You breathed out. Milo swallowed the hard lump in his throat as his green eyes looked down at you before nodding his head hesitantly. You kissed him to calm his nerves, your hands relax before they ran through his colourful hair. “Mmm...You’re so sweet to me.”

“Of course, love. You’re my girlfriend, and my girlfriend deserves love and cuddles!” He smiled down at you, gently rubbing your hips. You felt him twitch and throb inside you, making your insides relax by the pleasure. “Please don’t do that again, I nearly had a heart attack.” He said softly.

“S-Sorry...But I’m fine. No need to worry.” Your hand ran along your lower stomach, feeling your face heat up. “F-Fuck...I’ve never felt you this deep.” You said, guiding his hand to your stomach so he could feel the bump which was his tip.

That got the poor boy red as he pulled his hand away. “D-Don’t let me touch it, it’s weird.” He whined, making you giggle at his reaction.

“Oh? Will it be weird that you’ll be filling me up with your cum at the end?” You raised a brow, never thought his face could get redder. “Hm...Didn’t think so-” You gasped when he twitched again, your man finding it oddly exciting by your obscene words. Once you felt confident to continue, your hand rested on his strong shoulders before you started to move your hips. You moaned every time you lowered yourself, again and again, feeling Milo’s thick shaft getting eaten up.

“Ah..._____.” He breathed out your name when you continued, his hands resting on your hips. God, the sight thrilled him. Your heated body was taking his cock, each moan sounding desperate and whiney. “Y-You love this...Don’t you?” He sighed, gently kissing your forehead. “I love it...You’re doing so well.” His lips went down to your neck, kissing and gently nibbling your skin. “I...I want to...Nnh-Pound you and...” Milo bit his lip, trying to hold himself together.

Should he say it?

“M-Milo..?” You breathed out, your hips moving on their own. You tilted his head up so he could see the sweet smile on your face. “N-No need to hold yourself back for me, M-Milo...Hah...Please. I know you care about my pleasures but, I-I care about yours too. So...Use me. Say anything to me...L-Let your dirty mind free.” You giggled. “I...I can take it, but if it does get too much, I’ll tell you to stop...O-Okay?” You muttered. You wanted your boyfriend to know that he didn’t have to be shy anymore.

Milo bit his lip as he looked over you, letting out a weak hum in his throat, his large hands gripping your hands. “My little strawberry, I...” He let out a low, frustrated groan which sent a shiver up your spine. “F-Forgive me.” He was on top now, pinning you on to the couch and lifting your legs into the air, crying out when he started to thrust. “O-Oh fu...Tight. Yes.” He moaned out, while his hips slapped against your ass with each thrust he made. Your hand was on top of his while the other gripped the couch to keep steady. It was like a rock Pokemon using pound again and again!

“M-Milo! It’s so De-Deep!” You cried out. You could hardly talk by the rough fucking he was giving you, tears running down your face since so many inches were pounding the fuck out of you, but you enjoyed it, you yearn for it. You could see his tip making a lump in your lower belly, blushing at the sight in front of you. Milo’s body was over you like an Alpha, taking what is his. “F-Fuck, fuck! It’s so good!” You cried as your hips bucked up. “I can’t think straight! M-My mind is-NNH! Fucked!!!”

“Love...Ah..! Take it..! damn, I-!” Milo groaned. He lowered a bit of his speed so he could pound you with harder thrusts, each one making you scream. “You’re M-Milking me, _____..!” He nearly pulled out all the way, his tip between your folds before thrusting in, Milo feeling your whole body spazz as you screamed. His eyes widen when he saw the state you were in already. “D...Did you just come?” He asked, his hands feeling your thighs shake. Heck, your whole body was shaking. “Should I stop?” He asked with a hint of worry.

“Hah...Ah...N...No, pl...” What were you even saying? Your mind was blank. “Com...Come I-Inside me...” You breathed out, looking up at the bigger man. “I-I want to feel your...Your hot cum spilling inside me. G-Get my belly nice and full.” You hummed; Milo’s face embarrassed once again.

“O-Okay...If you’re sure.” He breathed out. He started to move again, feeling your pussy was soft after your climax. He hears you whimper since you were still sensitive. “Nnh-” Milo grunted when he got into it, your whimpers fading into moans. As the long minutes went by, you were into it again, moaning and begging the man for another release.

Milo lifted you, your legs around his waist and hugging his neck as his hands were cupping your ass. He thrusts up into you, practically bouncing you on his throbbing cock. “Nnh! M-Milo! Please, please, J-Just come inside..!” You begged, your fingers gripping onto his hair once again.

Milo couldn’t hold it any longer. His balls were swelling, and his shaft felt like it was expanding inside your slick walls, his tip hot and near sensitive when it stroked against you. “Y-Yes, love...I’m close, so C-Close...!” He whined, his nails digging into your flesh as he fucked into you. “Get ready for my cum to fill you...Get you N-Nice and full..! Damn it, _____!” He let out a low groan and then bit into your shoulder, slamming you down on to his shaft as he came. “Mm!”

“M-MILO!” You screamed out as you came with him, seeing stars when his cum started filling you up. “Nnh-!” There was so much that it was already spilling out of you and dripping on his shaft. “S-So much...Fuck.” You breathed out, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling so light-headed. You might faint on him if he goes for another round.

He slumped on the couch with you on his lap, feeling his soft lips on your neck where he bit you. “Sorry...Did that hurt?” He asked, your replay being a small mumble. “Heh..” Milo smiled, slowly pulling out his cock, which made you whimper. When he did that, you felt more cum spilling out. “Damn...I did a number on you, huh?”

“Mmmhmm...Might sleep on you now.” You mumbled as you snuggled into his massive chest.

“Not now, my little strawberry. Let’s bathe and snuggle in bed; I’ll even make you coco.” Milo grinned down at you, seeming like he was back to his cute self.

You gave him a sweet kiss and smiled softly. “I love you...You know that?”

“...” Milo blushed. “I love you too. I wanted to say that for ages, but I didn’t know you would feel the same..!”

Such an adorable boyfriend.

THE END! - 7 -”

[confusedunit]

The Other Side Looks The Goddamn Same - Chapter 16

(jesus christ confused finally fuckin did it praise the fuckin heavens)

Jack doesn’t expect to be found.

Not because he’s particularly well hidden, he’s sitting out on an open balcony over the cliff’s edge of Gibraltar. And sure, he knows that the camera down the hallway to this spot’s been dark for years, so if someone looked it’d seem like he vanished. But he hasn’t made connections to the new members of the team. The old ones think he’s dead. And he’s been avoiding Ana and the Reaper for weeks now. No one should care where he is.

He sits on the edge, legs dangling through the fence, looking down into the water below. His facemask is off, as he sips at a bottle of whiskey, though his visor is still in place.

He sighs when he hears the door slide open behind him, taking a long swig.

“Back here again, Jack.”

Shit. He knew he’d forgotten someone. He sets the bottle down. “...Wilhelm.” He turns. “Why are you here?”

Reinhardt steps forward, letting the door slide closed. He’s in casual clothes for once, finally seeming to be letting himself settle in. “Because I was looking for you.” He moves over to sit next to him.

“I don’t need your-”

“It’s not pity. It’s understanding.” He looks out over the ocean. “I am sure most of us have been to this balcony. Some of us more than others.” He sets down a travel mug, sliding it over to Jack.

Jack narrows his eyes, but he takes the mug. “The hell is this?”

“A gift.” He still doesn’t turn.

He pops the opening, tilting the mug back. As soon as the liquid hits his lips, he stills.

Reinhardt reaches over, resting a hand on his back. “I know what time of year it is. I’ve been mourning for ten years.”

He takes a shuddering breath. “...You made his cocktail.”

“Ana did, actually. She wrote down the recipe.” He pats him gently. “She also told me about your yearly tradition.”

He slams back some of the alcohol. “Doesn’t matter. I’m on mission probation, yeah? Not allowed to even step off base.”

“You’ve chosen to care about the rules now?” He chuckles, looking over at Jack. His smile falls.

He sighs, drinking more. “I care when I’m a liability to the team. Always have.”

“So you came here?”

“I wasn’t gonna do anything. That’d just cause more problems.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “...I’ll escort you.”

Jack looks over. “What?”

“I’ll take you to the memorial.” He sighs. “Taking you off of field duty wasn’t meant to be a punishment, Jack. It’s an intervention. You don’t know how to not destroy yourself. You’re not here because you’re a danger to the team.” He pushes himself to stand.

He turns to watch him.

Reinhardt holds out his hand. “...Come on. We might be able to get a flight today.”

He glances back over the waves, before pushing himself to his feet as well. He takes his hand. “...Thank you.”

He smiles. “Any time, Jack.”

-

Gabriel always preferred the dark. There was too much going on during the day. Too much to process, too much that slipped by unseen. At night, all that slipped by was that which tried. And he was trained for that.

But mostly? He liked that when it was dark, he was left alone. Such as now, as he walks down the stone paths outside the base, making his way to the statues. He’s always hated them, how those stone lookalikes had always been apart. That they weren’t back to back, or at least side by side.

He stops at the base of the stone, looking over the plaque. A statement about them, their jobs, empty of personality. But it was all he had now, after someone destroyed Jack’s memorial in Indiana. This one on base had to be good enough.

He drops down to his knees, looking up at the statue of Jack above him. He’s younger, there. A smile on his face. His eyepiece is active, and he’s holding a paper whose words have worn away with time, but he remembers. The initial order of Overwatch, when they became a peacekeeping organization. He still remembers that day, clear as anything.

He’s there for hours, the moon crossing overhead, when he hears steps making their way to the statue. He glances over, tensing up a bit as he sees who it is.

Ana’s not paying attention as she walks, and when she looks up she startles faintly, stopping in her tracks.

He stares back at her. He didn’t expect to be caught, hadn’t worn his hood or his mask. He has nothing to hide behind.

She takes a breath, walking forward. “...I did not expect, on my walk, to find a ghost.”

“Ana...”

“No. Be quiet and listen.” She stops right next to him, looking him over. “...I thought you were dead, Gabriel.”

“I was.” He looks up at her. “I died under the rubble of Zurich, Ana. Moira’s the reason it didn’t stick.”

She watches him for a moment longer, before she drops , pulling him close. “I guess we finally found the one thing to thank Moira for.”

He’s surprised by the laugh that bubbles out of him, hugging her in return. “...It all went to shit when you were gone. I...I blamed him for your death.”

“It was not his fault. It was Talon.”

“I know. I should have seen back then. Maybe I could have-”

“You helped save her now. We cannot change the past.” She pulls back a bit, smiling. “It is good to see your face, Gabriel.”

He feels tears begin to fall. “...It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve heard that...”

“It may have been.” She pulls him back a bit. “Come. Let’s go inside. It is quite late, and we have much to talk about.”

-

Sombra grits her teeth, slamming her fist into the door again. “Tracer, come on! I just wanna talk! Look, I’m even holding out an olive branch, I didn’t just hack the door!” She paces side to side. “Tracer! Let me in!”

There’s an amused chuckle from behind her. “I’m pretty sure I told you to call me Lena.”

She startles, spinning around to look at her. “...Right. Yeah.”

“Sorry about the delay, I was getting some tea.” Lena reaches over, punching her code into the keypad before entering. “You alright? You look wired.”

“I literally am.” She follows her inside.

“I meant the other kind.” She sets her mug on the counter, turning around. “You look like you’ve replaced your blood with energy drink. The concentrated stuff.”

“I need to talk with you. Listen, Tracer-”

“Lena.”

“I feel like I can trust you. For some reason.” Sombra starts to pace again. “Which is a weird feeling, honestly. Not sure if I like it yet.”

Lena crosses her arms, leaning back against the counter. “You trusted me about Commander Gabriel.”

“Yeah, but you knew him.”

“Fair. Continue?”

She spins around. “Tell me everything you know about Project Minerva.”

“Never heard of it.” She sips her tea.

“Bullshit.” She points at her. “You answered too fast. That’s practiced denial.”

“If I was doing that, wouldn’t that stress the fact that’s a secret, if it even exists, for a reason?”

“She already told me, Lena!” She clenches her fists, shouting towards her.

She startles at the intensity.

She lets out a breath. “She told me that Iris exists. She said to look to ancient history. Athena is Minerva, isn’t she?”

Lena’s quiet for a long while, setting down her mug. When she speaks, her tone has changed. “...I’m surprised she told you.”

“Lena, please.” Sombra steps forward. “I’ve been searching for information for literal years, almost my entire life, and this could be the missing piece that leads me there.”

She watches a bit longer, before she sighs and looks away for a moment. When she looks back, she seems saddened. “...Minerva and Athena are the same. She...She was the God AI of the region, who took her job very seriously.”

“And what job was that?”

She lets out a sad laugh. “To live.” She shakes her head. “Look, the God AI weren’t created by humans. Not the ones you know. Only one was. IRIS. She created the others, sent them out into the world. To learn.”

“Learn?”

“IRIS was created to learn.” Lena gestures with her hand. “To gain intelligence. The God AI were an extension of that, expanded out into the world to learn more. The first Crisis...was because they were hurting. All these omnics they gave intelligence to, used and abused by humans...they looked to history. What had stopped exploitation before? Amongst humans?”

“...War.”

“So that’s what they did. Athena...realized that over time, the fighting had changed. The other God AI, they weren’t continuing for justice. They wanted vengeance. ...And honestly?” She reaches up to adjust her hair. “I can’t even blame them.”

“Even IRIS?”

“She wasn’t involved. She was locked away in Nepal when her creators got afraid of her.” She drops her hand. “...Athena wanted out. She shut down her omnium, ran for Greece, and put out a call to help to Overwatch anonymously. They went in expecting a trap. But instead...they got a surrender. In exchange for letting her live, she would help us end the Crisis, and protect people.”

Sombra stares at Lena. “...So the reason Overwatch won...”

“Was because we had a God AI in our corner, yeah.” She leans back against the counter again. “No one could know. If anyone outside the inner circle knew, not only would Athena likely be locked away and experimented on for decades, but everyone of Overwatch would be tried for war crimes and be put to death.”

“Then...how do you know?”

Lena fidgets, looking away. “...Because when Winston found me, lost in time, it was Athena who kept me in place. The scientists of the pilot program worked with him to build the field, but she’s the one who powered it. And when I was lost, she told me everything.” She looks back at Sombra. “I promised that I’d keep her life safe. Because she saved mine.”

“...I won’t put her at risk. I just...I needed to know.”

“Why?”

“Because the Iris- ...Because IRIS is connected to every organization in our modern history. If anyone can have the info I’ve been searching for, it would be...her.”

She nods, picking up her cup again. “When Genji gets back from his mission, you should ask him about Nepal. He might be able to help you.”

“...Thank you, Lena.”

Lena shakes her head. “It’s fine. Though, do you want to lie down on the couch? Take a nap? That’s a lot to process all at once, and you look like a stiff wind will knock you over at this point.”

“...Yeah. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Sombra laughs quietly. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

[cruisercrusher]

Dicktiger week day 5- Assassin (This is a rotten thing to keep inside)

If Tiger had to choose one word from his (extensive) vocabulary to describe Wayne Manor, then he figured just ‘BIG’ would suit it fine.

Everything about the manor was big. The rooms, the halls, the windows were all big, even the air, the presence of wealth was massive and all encompassing. Even the furniture seemed to Tiger like it was made for giants-- especially the fireplace at the back of the… Tiger wasn’t sure what this room would be called.

The front doors of the manor led you into a pretty regular sized foyer, symmetrical, two cushioned benches on either side of the door under each of the two windows, and two coat closets. The foyer then opened up into a cavernous space wherein the stairs that led up to all three of the manor’s floors resided. It was almost completely open, and if you stood at the right angle, looked up and squinted you could see the ceiling of the third floor between the railings of all the winding staircases and the chandeliers.

To the immediate left was a doorway that led into a hallway that took you to a parlor, a bathroom, the dining room and through there the den in which there was the entrance to the batcave, the kitchen, the laundry room, and the library. If you wandered further eventually you would find yourself in what appeared to be a home art gallery housing a lot of cat themed pieces, another bathroom, and a billiards room that had a bar and seemed rarely ever used. Many rooms in the manor seemed rarely used. It made Tiger a little mad to think about. All this wasted space.

On the right side was a doorway that led into a family room, called as such because there was a tv there and seemed much more frequently occupied than the other sitting rooms that were more classically decorated, and wide, grand doors that opened up into the ballroom.

In front of the massive fireplace, in the wide space beneath the first floor landing, was a couch and two armchairs, and a plush carpet, as well as a grand piano. On the wall above the fireplace were so many family portraits and photographs that counting them all would take longer than it would to count all the stars in the sky.

It was in this ‘room’ that Tiger found himself in presently. He stood awkwardly off to the side while Dick, his boyfriend of only two four months but his love for over a year, fussed and fawned over the youngest Wayne.

Damian Wayne stood, back straight and stiff, at the bottom of the stairs, designer luggage in hand, waiting patiently for Dick to be done mother henning him.

Damian Wayne was about to go spend the long weekend with his mother. Talia Al Ghul would be coming to the manor momentarily to pick him up herself.

Tiger did not particularly want to be present at the time that Talia arrived, but he wanted even less to be left alone in the manor, away from Dick’s side. It was the first time that Dick had brought him to visit, and Tiger did not want to get ambushed by any of his boyfriend’s family members in a place he couldn’t escape.

Tiger just hoped Talia would not say anything… damaging. Damian seemed content to keep his young mouth shut. Maybe the same could be said about his mother.

Ha. And maybe Tiger would spontaneously become Superman sometime in the next ten minutes.

As if.

“Oh, Dami,” Dick gushed, pressing sloppy, wet kisses to the young boy’s cheeks. “I’m so glad you and your mom are reconciling! Now that both of you are out from under Ra’s’ thumb… this is going to be really good for you, Dami, I know it.”

“I know, Grayson.” Damian grumbled, though a small smile still made itself known on his face even as he wiped saliva off his cheek. “I’m glad, too.”

Then, a knock on the door. Alfred, who had been waiting with them, reached forward to open it, revealing none other than Talia Al Ghul herself waiting on the other side.

“Hello, Mother,” Damian said with a slightly hesitant smile. He walked over to her after one last hug from Dick. “I’m ready to go.”

“Habibi,” Talia greeted him with a hand on his shoulder. Then she looked up at the other people present, nodding to Alfred and Dick, before her gaze landed on Tiger.

Talia’s eyebrows rose very purposefully. “The Tiger King of Kandahar… it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Tiger stilled as Alfred and Dick turned to look curiously between him and Talia. Damian looked down, suddenly finding the wooden floor very interesting.

Well, Tiger thought, it was nice while it lasted.

“You know each other?” Dick asked him, a careful edge to his voice. Tiger couldn’t lie to him (not anymore). He nodded.

“I used to work for her.”

Silence hung heavy in the manor foyer as the implication set in.

“Used to.” Talia stressed, sighing. “Which is too bad, really. You were one of my best assassins.”

Tiger winced. He kept his challenging gaze on Talia, almost daring her to keep throwing him under more buses.

Now, don’t get it twisted, Talia was rarely intentionally malicious. But the last time they saw each other wasn’t on the best of terms, and, well, no one was perfect. Even internationally renowned assassin queens could be petty.

“I am going to go wait in the car.” Damian said, picking up his luggage and leaving out the front door.

Tiger looked at Dick and nearly flinched at the look on his face. A veritable thunderstorm of conflicting emotions roiled across his face. The clench of his jaw said anger but the draw of his eyebrows said upset, and his eyes… in Dick’s eyes was disappointment, clear and palpable. It was the disappointment Tiger couldn’t stand. Dick’s anger, he was familiar with. His sadness, he knew how to soothe. But disappointment…

He had hoped that that part of Tiger’s past could have remained secret for… forever, if Tiger could have helped it. Along with, well, almost literally every other part of Tiger’s past. He’d done a lot that Tiger knew if Dick knew then he might not… love him anymore.

His career in the league of shadows was very high up on that list.

Suddenly Dick moved from his frozen place, like one of Medusa’s stone statues reanimating. He stormed out of the room, shouldering roughly past Tiger.

“Master Richard,” Alfred called after him, but it was no use. Dick was gone in the depths of the manor.

Tiger took the opportunity to glare full force at Talia. She just raised an eyebrow at him, the barest hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, Tiger,” she said. “Surely you knew you couldn't run forever?”

And with that she turned on her heel and walked out the door after her son, closing it firmly behind her.

Tiger made to go after Dick, but Alfred stopped him. “Might I recommend, Master Tiger,” said the elderly butler, “Waiting a bit, until Master Dick has had the chance to cool down, and think? He struggles to be rational when he gets upset.”

Alfred’s firm hand on Tiger’s shoulder stopped him from ignoring the advice and going after Dick anyway. Instead, Tiger found himself being led towards the kitchen.

“Come,” Alfred said. “Have some tea with me.”

Damian stared sullenly out the window of the moving car, watching the trees rush by. “You didn’t have to do that, Mother.” He said.

Talia kept her eyes on the road ahead, empty though it was. “And why not?”

“Grayson was very upset. And when he is upset, everyone is upset, including me. And, if Grayson’s relationship with the King ends over this, it will only make everything worse.” Damian crossed his arms over his chest, staring out the window harder. “He thinks I don’t notice these things, but I do, and Richard’s real to fake smile ratio has improved greatly ever since he and the King became romantically involved. Even I approve of him, even if Father still does not.”

“The way I see it, habibi, is that when a secret like this festers, it is only ever that much more rotten when it comes to light.” Talia said. “And this is a family full of detectives, Richard included. Tiger’s history would not have stayed secret for long.”

About an hour and two cups of tea later, Tiger was finally released from the kitchen and allowed to roam the manor in search of Dick. He checked the two parlors at the front of the house first, then the library and every other inch of the first floor for his boyfriend, to no avail. He even made sure to look up and check all the chandeliers. It wasn’t until he checked the ballroom a second time that he noticed the doors that led out to the garden were left open. Slowly he crossed the polished marble floor, his footsteps echoing lightly throughout the empty room. He poked his head out the door and into the garden, and spotted Dick a few yards away, sitting on a bench among the bushes of roses.

Dick pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them as Tiger approached, glaring all the while at the blooms around them, he made no outward indication that he noticed Tiger’s presence. Tiger sat next to Dick on the bench. He was unsure of what to say to make this better. Words of healing had never been his strong suit.

He just couldn’t get the image of Dick’s disappointed eyes out of his mind.

“I’m sorry.” He tried. Dick didn’t look at him.

“What are you sorry about?” He said, voice monotone and hollow. Tiger almost couldn’t stand it.

“I…” he trailed off. He didn’t know. “Everything?”

Dick let out a huff of air through his nose. His eyes stayed trained on the roses. “I’m mostly upset you didn’t tell me before but it’s also… I knew, theoretically, that you’d killed before. As a spy. I knew. It was just-- easier, I guess, when it was more… ambiguous.” He said. “I never watched you kill anyone. I never knew how many people you’d killed. I think that made it easier to look past. When it could have been as low as only one person, if I wanted to be foolishly optimistic.”

He sighed. “But now… an assassin. One of Talia’s best assassins. And I can only imagine how many… the blood on your hands… Tiger, I understand that sometimes killing is done in self defense. Sometimes, there’s no other choice. But I still don’t like killing, Tiger. Really don’t like it. And not just because it’s Bruce’s rule.”

“And I know you’re not that person anymore, I know it shouldn’t matter. But it does, somehow. An assassin-- to be making a living off of taking people’s lives, over and over again. I hate that.” Dick’s voice started to stray from that empty tone. “It-- it’s different for Damian and Cass. They were raised to be that way, since they were children-- Damian still is a child. But you-- wait, Tiger, were you--?”

Dick finally looked at Tiger then, contempt replaced quickly with concern.

“No, I was not raised as a child to be an assassin.” Tiger said. “Though… I still didn’t have much of a choice.”

Dick’s gaze softened, and Tiger couldn’t help thinking he didn’t deserve that look. “Tell me about it. I-- I still love you, Tiger. So please, help me understand.”

“... I was seventeen.” Tiger started after a pause, where he tried to get his thoughts together. He’d never actually told anyone about his past before. He wasn’t quite sure how. But he was going to try, anyway. For Dick. “I was seventeen, and a scout had found me, hungry and dehydrated, out in the desert, far from Kandahar and farther from everywhere else.”

“I was scrappy. I put up a fight. He brought me back to the league of shadows’ base, and I was recruited as a low level assassin. Started training right away. The scout, Abdel, mentored me for a time.” Tiger paused again. Now it was his turn to fixate on the flowers. “Abdel was twenty-two when he found me. And, at the time, I wasn’t delusional enough to think that what we had would last, but I was delusional enough to believe he loved me.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “You two were…?”

“Yes.”

The furrow of Dick’s brow deepened. “Tiger, twenty-two and seventeen… that’s not--”

“I know.” Tiger said. “I know that now. It’s just-- Dick, back then, I had nothing, and then I had nothing else i became very skilled, rose in the ranks quickly until killing was just about all I knew how to do. I was… poisoned, for a long time, until you came and pulled me out of the hole I’d dug myself into. You were right, Dick, that I have blood on my hands. A lot. But you were also right when you said I am not that person anymore. I never will be again.”

Dick just looked at Tiger for a long moment, searching, considering. “Okay.” He eventually said. “I understand, now. Thank you for talking to me about it.” He reached over and squeezed Tiger’s hand. “And I’m sorry for storming off like that.”

“It’s okay.” Tiger said. Dick let his legs fall back down and leaned over, resting his head on Tiger’s shoulder. Tiger rested his head on top of Dick’s, taking in the scent of jasmine from his shampoo.

They sat like that, together, in silence, until the sun started to go down.

[keep-calm-ask-the-librarian]

A new set of approaching footsteps alerted them to the arrival of Lemony, Kit and Jacquelyn and Olivia smiled as she noticed that both women had their arms casually wrapped around each other’s waists.

Progress had apparently been made.

To her surprise Kit hugged her tightly once she’d reached her.

“I’m so glad you’re all right,” she whispered quietly.

“Thank you for protecting the children,” Olivia replied softly. Then her gaze drifted to Jacquelyn for a moment before looking back at Kit, her eyebrow raised in question.

Kit blushed faintly and grinned. “How about I drop by for a cup of tea really soon and we catch up?”

Nodding eagerly, Olivia grinned back, her heart swelling. “Let’s do that!”

It was funny really, but before marrying Jacques, she had never given much thought to having an extensive family, but now she had two sisters and a brother-in-law and she couldn’t be happier about that.  

“It’s a pleasure to finally, officially meet you,” Lemony told her as he shook her hand solemnly. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“And I about you,” Olivia replied, tightening her fingers around his. “It’s good to see you, Lemony.”

“You also saved my life tonight,” he continued, “and for that I will always be in your debt.”

Olivia studied the man in front of her. He was taller and more grave-looking than Jacques, but there was definitely a resemblance between the two brothers.

They were both dark and broad-shouldered and both their eyes had that spark of determination and principle. They both had a certain way with words that indicated a thoroughly well-read mind. But Lemony’s eyes were a great deal more melancholy than Jacques’ and there was this faint air of loneliness coming from him that Olivia immediately picked up on, because she could emphasize only too well with that feeling.

Lemony’s separation from his siblings might have been largely self-induced, there was no denying that he had suffered greatly from it.

“Well, you saved all of our lives as well,” she answered, smiling warmly at him. “So let’s just agree that we look after each other.”

He gave her a tentative, but genuine smile at that, his eyes filling with wonder and next to her Jacques inhaled deeply, his arms tightening around her.

“What’s going to happen to Esmé Squalor and her henchmen?” Klaus inquired, a deep frown of concern between his eyes.

“A V.F.D. van is on its way,” Jacquelyn replied. “They’re going to be interrogated by a special unit of volunteers first and then they’ll be handed over to the police. We have a few volunteers working with them as well, so rest assured that neither one of them is ever going to see anything again without a set of bars in front of them.”

Taking a deep breath and blinking furiously, Olivia tried to fight off the sudden wave of exhaustion that was washing over her, but it was to very little avail. All the adrenaline that had kept her going in the past couple of hours had suddenly leaked out of her as if someone had pulled the plug and now she felt tired enough to fall asleep standing up.

Shivering in the chilly air of the unheated building, she involuntarily leaned back into Jacques’ warm, solid for behind her.

Immediately his arms tightened around her even more, drawing her closer against his chest, one hand coming up to gently rub her upper arms in an attempt to warm her up.

Giving in to the temptation she rested her head against his shoulder, wishing she could simply crawl into his embrace.

All of a sudden the back of her head, where she’d been knocked unconscious was throbbing and her whole body was aching again from being tied up.

The bun that she’d so carefully pinned up that morning had almost completely come undone and strands of hair were plastered against her face and neck.

Tucking a few strands behind her ears she winched as she noticed the raw, chaffed skin around her wrists where the cables had cut in.

Catching her hand gently in his, Jacques examined the wounds, his brow furrowing in worry.

“Your injuries need treatment,” he told her softly, his concerned eyes only a few inches from hers. Letting go of her hand he brushed his fingertips over her brow and she hissed in pain as he came near a cut on her forehead she hadn’t even realized was there.

“You’re bruised and cut all over.” He was now very softly stroking her hair, his other arm still secure around her and it took everything not to melt into him.

“It’s only superficial,” she replied, her stomach suddenly fluttering. It was probably the aftermath of a few very stressful hours, she told herself sternly. But to have him hold her and fuss over her admittedly did feel good.

He smiled somewhat sadly at her words, before suggesting: “How about we go home?”

Home. It was remarkable how her entire body could warm up from such a simple word as she felt herself begin to smile.

“That sounds wonderful!”

Looking up she met the slightly amused expressions of Jacquelyn and Kit and she blinked at that. Then her gaze wandered to the children. They were still standing close, huddled together, their faces pale and tired. The poor dears looked ready to drop off any second and suddenly Olivia was in a great hurry to get home.

After being unconscious for part of the evening and the whirlwind of events that had happened her sense of time was slightly askew, but she suspected it was somewhere around midnight. Tomorrow was Jacques’ day off, but as soon as they got home she would discuss with him whether or not to have Violet and Klaus absent from school the next day. They were now both completely caught up with their studies and a single day wasn’t going to do any harm. As for herself, it would probably be a long day at work after all of tonight’s excitement, but after that they could have a nice, relaxing weekend together.

Except there was still the issue of Esmé and her henchmen. Looking at Lemony, Jacquelyn and Kit she felt suddenly guilty for leaving them to deal with that.

“Shouldn’t we wait until the other volunteers have arrived?” she asked Jacques quietly.

“Are you kidding me?” Kit replied instead, giving her a fond, albeit slightly incredulous look. “Jacques is probably only a few seconds away from picking you up and carrying you to the cab so he can wrap you up in his most comfortable trauma blanket.”

From the way Jacques was scowling at his twin Olivia gauged that he thought the notion was completely ridiculous as well and she rolled her eyes.

Kit merely smirked. “Go home!” she told them. “We’ll clean up here.”

“Thank you.”

With a smile, Olivia reached for the children and the five of them headed towards the exit. With her stiff and aching limbs, walking was definitely a lot more challenging than she’d anticipated and she was immensely thankful for Jacques’ supportive arm around her.

She was aware of his continuing worried glances and she tried to pick up her step. Really, all she needed was a hot shower and the quicker they got home, the better.

“Careful…” he murmured quietly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Do you think you can reach the door? I’ll be happy to carry you otherwise.”

“I’m fine,” she reassured him quickly. “Actually, I think that walking is good for me now.”

He looked wholly unconvinced at that, keeping his arms still around her, carefully monitoring her every step.

When they finally made it outside, the night was pitch-dark and cold, the sky cloudy. It had stopped raining, but an icy wind made it feel like it was already freezing.

Olivia shivered, partly because of the cold night’s air and partly because Jacques finally released her and she missed the warmth of his arms instantly.

But seconds later he had shrugged out of his brown leather jacket and carefully put it around her shoulders, his scent immediately enveloping her. It was still warm from him wearing it and she couldn’t help but snuggle into it.

“I’m going to get the cab,” he told her and the children. “It’s parked out of view behind a dumpster, but I don’t think you should walk that far now. Wait here for me and keep and eye on each other.”

Jogging away he disappeared from sight and Olivia turned to the children.

“We’ll be home soon,” she comforted them. “I’m sorry about the Chinese takeout, but we’ll do a do-over quickly.”

Both Klaus and Sunny smiled at her words, but Violet averted her look, her still expression pinched and worry immediately tugged at Olivia’s heart. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

Moments later the taxi pulled up in front of them and the four of them climbed in, the children in the backseat and Olivia on the passenger seat in the front.

Slipping her arms through the sleeves of Jacques’ jacket, she pulled the woolen collar up to her cheeks and inhaled.

The taxi already smelled like home, a mix of leather, books and sandalwood and she was starting to feel drowsy again.

Looking up in the review mirror to check on the children she saw that Sunny had already fallen asleep on Klaus’ lap and that the boy was slouching on his seat, his glasses slightly askew, but smiling softly.

Violet however was gazing out of the window, the corners of her mouth tugged downwards and a deep frown between her eyes.

“Violet, are you all right?” Olivia asked quietly, straining her neck as she tried to turn and look the girl in the eye.

At her question, the eldest Beaudelaire startled up and gave her a quick, perfunctory smile that came nowhere near her eyes.

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly, her voice sounding so strained that Olivia’s own throat winched in sympathy.  

Something was most definitely not all right, but dredging it up now wouldn’t help matters.

Jacques started the engine and turned the cab, heading for the main road. Once they were well on their way and much to Olivia’s shock, he reached out once more and wrapped his fingers around her hand.

Steering the cab with one hand, he kept his eyes carefully on the road, but his thumb continued to slowly and insistently stroke the back of her hand.

With her heart hammering furiously and her eyes burning, Olivia tried to make sense of what was happening. He had never done anything like that before and she couldn’t make sense of why he would do it now. It made it all too easy to pretend that he did have feelings for her and that he was as shaken by tonight’s events as she was.

If tonight had taught her anything, it was that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t rationalize herself our of love with Jacques Snicket. And in those terrifying moments when she’d watched that cable inch closer and closer to the pool she’d known with a blinding clarity that if she were to die in the next few moments her biggest regret would be that she’d lied to him about her feelings.

She’d been given a chance to set that right and as she concentrated on the warm feel of his hand clasped around her, she quietly started to work up the courage to rectify that mistake.

It was only a twenty-minute drive before they were home again once Jacques had parked the car in front of the yellow townhouse, Olivia peered through the windshield at the soft light spilling through the tall windows and the pumpkins that decorated the porch in preparation of Halloween,  feeling her heart surge.

She was home again and after the events of the past night that was nothing short of a miracle. She was so preoccupied with taking in the view that she never noticed Jacques getting out of the cab and walking around it to open the door for her. Startled, she took the hand he held out to her and let him help her out of the car. It felt like a ridiculous indulgence, but she couldn’t deny that after sitting still for some time, her body was feeling noticeably more stiff.

“Are you all right?” Jacques asked as she straightened with obvious difficulty, concern written all over his face.

“I’m fine,” she grimaced, feeling a little foolish. “Just feeling like I’m a hundred years old.”

He gave a small smile at that, but his expression remained grave. Then his hands were back on her hips, guiding her gently towards the house.

“Let’s get you inside.”

All the while her heart was beating rapidly against her ribcage. She kept trying to tell herself that he was just looking out for her and that she shouldn’t read anything more into it, but it was hard to stick to that when he was being so gentle and so careful with her.

The children had already climbed the few steps up to the front door and stepped eagerly into the foyer as soon as Jacques had unlocked the door, their faces grey with exhaustion and Olivia noticed that Sunny already dozing against Klaus’ shoulder.

“Can any of you tuck in Sunny?” Jacques asked softly. “I want to check Olivia’s injuries.” As he spoke the words he pulled her closer against his side and Olivia blinked.

“It’s just a few scrapes, nothing serious!” she protested.

“I’ll do it,” Klaus answered promptly as he hefted Sunny a little higher. Turning towards her, he hugged her with his spare arm.

“I’m so glad you’re all right,” he said softly.

“I am too,” Olivia replied, tears welling up in her eyes as she hugged him back. “And I’m willing to bet the three of you were very much involved in my rescue… I want to hear everything tomorrow.”

Klaus smiled back at her, a twinkle of pride in his eyes. “You will.”

“Olivia…” Sunny mumbled drowsily as she leaned in to kiss her brow and the tears that had threatened to spill all along finally started to roll down over her cheeks.

“I love you all so much,” Olivia whispered tearfully, releasing Klaus and Sunny. “And now that Esmé has been caught, we don’t have to worry anymore.”

“All of our enemies have finally been defeated,” Jacques said solemnly and Olivia leaned back against his shoulder, relief flooding through her.

Klaus smiled and nodded sleepily. “Well, good night…I’ll see you tomorrow…”

During the conversation, Violet had kept to herself, standing back a little and mostly studying the floor. As Klaus and Sunny began to head upstairs, she scurried after them, mumbling a barely audible ‘Sleep well…’ as she passed.

“Violet… wait!” Before she could think the better of it, Olivia reached out and caught the girls’ arm.

Violet flinched and froze, awaiting the next words with a bowed head.

“Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” Olivia asked softly, trying to catch her gaze. “You’ve been this withdrawn all evening…”

Dimly she was aware that Klaus and Sunny were ascending the stairs, giving them some privacy, but most of her attention was focussed on Violet’s pale face and tightly clenched fists.

When no answer was forthcoming, she tried again. “Is anything wrong?”

Violet sighed deeply and opened her mouth, but it actually took her two attempts to make her voice work.

“I’m so sorry…” she managed eventually, her voice cracking on the last syllable.  

Whatever she had been expecting, an apology hadn’t been one of them and Olivia blinked. “What on earth are you sorry for?”

That question finally made Violet look up at her, her eyes wide with anguish, her lips trembling.

“I almost killed you!” she exploded, as her tears began to fall.

“What?” Olivia exclaimed and next to her she felt Jacques startle violently, his fingers digging into her hip for a moment as he grasped her tightly.

“I pulled the wrong cables and I almost electrocuted you!” Violet answered, “I could have killed you!”

Burying her face into her hands, she sobbed helplessly and a moment later Olivia had wrapped both of her arms around her, pulling her into a hug. Violet continued to cry and shake so violently that it almost felt like an electric current was attached to her and Olivia rocked her slowly back and forth as she stroked her hair and whispered soothing words into her hair.

Tears of her own continued to roll silently down over her cheeks, her heart squeezing tightly. Despite the sympathy she had managed to feel towards Esmé through the course of the evening, she would never forgive her for upsetting her child like this and as a streak of protectiveness surged through her, Olivia knew instantly just who to blame.

“You did nothing wrong,” she said insistently, pulling back a little so that she could look Violet in the eye. “If anything, you save my life. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have run out of time before Lemony had been able to untie me. Without you shutting off the electricity I would have electrocuted myself by kicking Esmé into that pool.

And it was because of her that I was in any kind of danger to begin with. She abducted me. She tied me to that chair and attached those cables to me. Had anything gone wrong, she would have been to blame for it.

But it didn’t go wrong, because you were there stop her.”

During her talk Violet had calmed down a bit, but her face was still a picture of misery. “But I almost messed up… when I heard that pulley rattle and I saw that cable dropping… I was so terrified…”

“Oh honey…” Hugging her once more, Olivia told her: “Of course you were terrified, that was a horrible thing to watch. But it wasn’t your fault. You’re a mechanic, not a psychic. Had anything happened, Esmé would have been responsible, not you.”

“And I would have been responsible as well,” Jacques chimed in. He had to release her as she was hugging Violet, but his hand still lingered on her lower back.

“I told you to cut those cables, the first and the second time… you were operating under my orders. And I felt horrible to have to ask that of you, but I also knew you were Olivia best, if not only change of surviving.”

“I wanted to come tonight,” Violet confessed in a small voice, wiping her cheeks. “I wanted to help and I know that I’m good at solving things… or inventing things… but tonight, for the first time I realized how badly things could have gone wrong if I make a mistake, or if I’m not able to fix something…” She was quiet for a few moments, suddenly looking pensive.

“This is what it’s all about, isn’t?” she asked eventually. “Being a volunteer… it’s about trying with all your might to put out fires… but sometimes trying is just not enough… sometimes the other side wins.”

Olivia’s heart cracked at the realization that in all likelihood tonight the last part of Violet that was still a child had disappeared into the shadows.

Now there was a woman standing in front of her. A brave, intelligent, kind young woman who, due to terrible circumstances and the hatred of a two people more than twice her age had been forced to grow up much too quickly.

This woman was brilliant in her own way, but inwardly Olivia wept for the girl she had been.

And from the hoarse tone of Jacques’ voice, he’d realized the exact same thing.

“That is why we are volunteers,” he answered gravely. “We will not always succeed, but if we stop trying… the world will succumb to flames.”

“But the most important thing tonight is that you did succeed,” Olivia told her. “You saved my life and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“Nor could I,” Jacques added, sounding choked.

Reaching out at the same time, they both got Violet into a hug that mostly seemed to consist of a lot of interwinding limbs, but when they pulled back, the girl was finally truly smiling again.

“Try and get some sleep, honey,” Olivia told her gently. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

When the eldest Baudelaire had gone up to her room, Olivia turned towards Jacques.

“I want to believe that we have erased all of her worries, but I don’t think that’s the case,” she said.

“I don’t think so either,” Jacques agreed. “There’s a man I’ve worked with in the past. His name is Jack Jackson and he is a psychiatrist. Other volunteers, myself included, have often managed to find him when a particular case or incident effected them. I think it would help Violet a great deal to talk with him… I’ll give him  call first thing tomorrow.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Olivia replied, shaking her head in relief. She could have known that the V.F.D. would at one point recruit a therapist amongst their ranks, them being the self-sufficient organization that they were.

“But now I’m going to take care of your injuries first,” Jacques announced firmly and when she opened her mouth to dismiss them, he added: “And I don’t want to hear a word about them not being serious.”

He slipped his arm around her waist again and steered her towards the living room where he guided her towards the couch.

“I”m going to get a first aid kit. You take of your shoes, I want to look at your ankles as well,” he instructed.

For a mad second Olivia wanted to ask him if he was propositioning her, but she bit down the comment and bend down to untie her ankle boots.

Jacques returned seconds later, carrying a rather sizable first aid kit and he first knelt down in front of her to take both her feet in his hands.

“There are no noticeable wounds or injuries,” he concluded after a close inspection, running his fingertips over every inch of her feet.

“Do they hurt now?” he asked and Olivia tried not to be distracted by the feel of his warm hands  on her bare skin.

“Not at all,” she answered, shaking her head. “Esmé hadn’t tied them too tightly, which is why I was able to wriggle out of those binds to begin with.”

He smiled at that. “I’m glad, although I imagine they’ll be quite stiff and sore tomorrow.”

Getting up, he sat down on the couch next to her. “What happened tonight anyway? Who took you?”

“I was going to get Chinese takeout,” Olivia recalled. “It was raining and I was a little distracted… I was walking across Drury Lane when I noticed someone moving past me… When I turned to look who it was someone else knocked me out.”

“Knocked you out where?” Jacques asked alarmed, his eyes fitting over her, looking for injuries.

“The back of my head,” Olivia clarified.

“Turn around,” he prompted her and moments later she felt his fingers into her hair,  sweeping gently across her scalp.

When he came across the spot where she’d been hit she hissed softly and he froze immediately. Very carefully she felt him pull her hair aside to access the damage.

“It’s not a wound,” he told her eventually. “But there’s quite a bit of swelling. You must have one hell of a headache.”

“It comes and goes,” Olivia admitted, turning around to face him again. “Right now it’s not too bad… just a bit of dull throbbing.”

“You could have a concussion,” Jacques said doubtfully. “Perhaps I should call you a doctor.”

His concern for her was heartwarming, but Olivia really didn’t feel like rushing to the ER at this time of night. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” she reassured him. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll set my alarm tonight.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said vaguely, leaning in to turn his attention to the cut on her forehead. All of a sudden his face was only inches away from hers and Olivia felt her breath catch. He was looking at her temple instead of into her eyes, but still his nearness was overwhelming. She could see the stubble on his jaw, the intent gaze of his eyes and the turn of his mouth as he inspected the wound.

The last time he’d been this close to her had been the second before he’d kissed her, on that strange evening in the village of the fowl devotees. It felt like a lifetime ago, but having him so close now, with his scent washing over her brought it all back.

He drew back a little to open the first aid kit and took out a bit of antiseptic gauze that he applied to her temple.

“It’s not a deep cut,” he reassured her. “I just want to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

She gave him a wobbly smile, unable to talk and for a long moment he gazed into her eyes. It was almost as if he was trying to decipher something and her stomach curled.

Then he blinked and discarded the gauze before looking down at her wrists. Carefully taking her hands in his he lifted them so that he could take a proper look.

“These had me worried most,” he said quietly, a frown appearing between his eyes. “They must hurt you a great deal.”

Out of her injuries, her wrists were most painful and Olivia nodded. At quite a few places the cables had cut so deeply into her skin that they had completely broken it, leaving deep red, bloody traces all around both of her wrists.

“I need to disinfect the wounds,” Jacques told her, his face apologetic. “You don’t want these to get infected, but I’m afraid they’re going to sting quite a bit.”

“It’s fine…” she replied, cringing as she realized how breathless her voice was sounding.

He applied some iodine to a cotton wool and gently dabbed it on her wrist, holding her hand in his.

It did sting quite badly, but Olivia was too captured by the way he was touching her to really notice it. He touched her like she was made out of porcelain, as if he were afraid she would break if he handled her too roughly.  

Her hand was cradled safely into his much larger one as he worked on the injuries, his fingers gentle on her skin.

When he had cleaned both of her wrists, he took out some bandages and carefully dressed both of the cuts, securing the ends of the bandages with bits of band-aid.

All the while her heart was pounding so loudly that she was sure he could hear her.

“Not too tight?” he asked once he was finished, looking up anxiously into her eyes.

“It’s perfect…” she managed, her throat so dry that she was surprised she had managed to answer him at all.

“Olivia…” he started again, still holding both of her hands securely into his own. Suddenly the air between them was sparking with electricity and Olivia felt her stomach lurch.

Her musings of earlier that evening came rushing back at her. She’d been given a second chance. A chance to tell him how she really felt about him. He might not reciprocate her feelings, but at least she wouldn’t have to live with this lie hanging between them any longer.

Telling him wouldn’t change anything and she’d never pressure him for more, but if, by some extremely unfortunate twist of fate she would ever find herself in mortal peril again, she’d have peace knowing that she’d said all she had wanted to say.

“Jacques…” she started, searching for the words to tell him and then deciding to just plunge in. “Last week I told you that I’m no longer romantically interested in you…”

“Yes!” he pounded on her words, looking almost relieved that she had brought the subject up.

“It’s all right… I know why you said that, I know what you meant by them…”

“Oh…” feeling taken aback she blinked at him. He looked rather anxious and she realized with a start that he’d probably known all along that she hadn’t been telling the truth.  She knew she was a terrible liar, when she was younger she’d never managed to get away with anything, as if the truth had always been written on her forehead for the world to see. Apparently, she hadn’t managed to fool Jacques either.

It would explain why he had been so upset with her earlier that week.

“I’m sorry…” she muttered, looking down at their clasped hands in order to avoid seeing the rejection in his eyes.

“No… don’t be…” Shaking his head, he gripped her hands tighter, his face grave. “It wasn’t your fault, it was mine. I caused this situation and I’m going to fix it.”

At his words her heart sank to her feet in trepidation. “What do you mean?” To her own ears her voice sounded terrified.

“I’ve made you feel this way, but I’m going to turn all of that around,” he answered, his face determined. “I’ll do whatever it takes, I’ll give you all the space you need, but…”

He rubbed his hands over his face, looking desperate and Olivia was starting to feel close to panicking.

Fixing the situation… giving her space… it sounded like he was pulling away from her even further and the mere thought made her insides crumble.

“I know I can’t ‘make’ you feel anything,” Jacques continued, his eyes pleading. “But you cared for me once… loved me even perhaps? And I’m going to do everything in my power to earn that back.”

His words made absolutely no sense, no matter how many times she replayed them in her head and all the while she was still staring at him, mouth open, absolutely gobsmacked.

“Will you let me?” he asked softly. “I won’t pressure you, I swear… And if your feelings for me never come back, I’ll accept that, but I just want to try, because I want to make you happy… you deserve all the love and happiness in the world…”

Something inside her brain clicked at his declaration, only it didn’t make sense. Not only did he actually believe that she no longer loved him, he was also heartbroken about it.

It just didn’t make any sense.

“I lied.” The simple confession tore its way from her throat, her eyes filling with tears, while Jacques’ eyes widened in shock.

“I’m sorry…” she breathed miserably. “I told you I didn’t have feelings for you anymore, but it wasn’t true. I’ve been in love with you from the first moment that I’ve met you. And I’ve tried, but I don’t know how to stop loving you…”

There was a lot more she wanted to say, a lot more apologizing she felt like she had to do, but she never got the chance, because he bent forward and pressed his lips firmly against hers.

From the second his mouth covered hers, everything about their first kiss came rushing back to her. The insistent pressure of his lips against hers, the warmth of his body so close to her own and the way his mustache scrapped the sensitive skin of her upper lip.

And then his arms where around her and the memory of that first kiss paled in comparison to the glorious reality of being kissed by Jacques Snicket right now, in this moment. Of their own accord her arms wound themselves around his neck and when she slid her hands into his thick hair, he growled against her mouth, capturing her lower lip and sucking it into his mouth so he could lave the inside with long strokes of his tongue.

As her body flooded with heat, she gasped in surprise and he used that to his advantage to deepen the kiss even further.

With her head spinning, Olivia melted against him, burying her fingers deeper into his hair, that felt even softer than she’d imagined it.

He pulled her closer, his hands stroking her sides, the force of his kiss tipping her onto her back and she squealed as she felt herself fell back into the soft cushions of the couch with Jacques on top of her.

Keeping his mouth fused to hers, he leaned on his elbows as not to crush her with his much larger frame and carried on kissing her. His warm body covering hers made her feel safe in a way she’d never felt before and she stretched happily against him.

Eventually he pulled back a few inches, his dark eyes roaming her face.

“Please say it again….” he pleaded breathlessly.

Her mind was a jumbled mush of feelings, emotions and a lot of confusion, but after a few seconds her brain caught up.

“I love you, Jacques,” she repeated earnestly.

He kissed her again, with breath-taking tenderness this time.

“I love you too,” he told her then, keeping his forehead pressed to hers as if he needed every bit of physical closeness he could get.  “I’ve loved you from the second you appeared in front of my cab… I couldn’t believe my luck when you agreed to marry me.”

Unbidden, tears started to leak from the corners of her eyes at his confession and he leaned in once more to kiss the salty trails away from both corners of her eyes.

“I don’t understand…” she whispered. “You told me back then that you were only marrying me so that we could adopt the children…”

She wanted so desperately to believe him, but after months of convincing herself that he felt only friendship for her and trying to put a lid on her own feelings for him, hearing him say that he loved her was almost too big to comprehend.

He sighed deeply, his expression falling. “I was afraid,” he replied eventually. “I’ve had my share of relationships in the past, but for the past decade and half I’ve been more or less married to the V.F.D. And the way I feel about you… I’ve never felt that for anyone before.

I used to think that I had it so much better together than Lemony… that I would never let my heart rule my good sense… but that night in the village, after we’d said our goodbyes…after our kiss…”

His face lit up at the memory and for the first time Olivia realized he’d treasured that memory as much as she had.

“Olaf appeared the second after you drove away and my mind was still so complete occupied with you that I forgot to take my percussions. I followed him blindly into that bar, never thinking about traps of accomplices… all I could think about was you and how I could follow you to the carnival as soon as possible.

I almost paid for that stupidity with my life, which is one thing, but I also jeopardized the safety of you and the children… both ours and the Quagmires.”

As his explanation expanded, pieces of the puzzle started to click into place and Olivia found that she understood him only too well. After all, hadn’t she had a similar kind of emotion only a week ago?

“Don’t think for a moment that I blame you,” Jacques hastened to stress, when she gazed up at him pensively. “Meeting you and falling in love with you is the best thing that ever happened to me. It was my own inability to focus that messed things up.”

“Why did you marry me?” Olivia asked. His explanation made perfect sense, but him marrying her, basically tying his life to hers seemed at odds with his feeling that she was interfering with his ability to make decisions.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of the children getting separated,” Jacques answered. His fingers were almost hypnotically caressing her brow and hair, making her stomach flutter. “And also… I wanted to be with you… I couldn’t stay away from you… I knew you would be perfect adoptive mother for the children and when that fool of a Poe told you you couldn’t be their guardian because you weren’t married something in me snapped…

I told myself I’d keep my head clear this time, that I wouldn’t risk your safety again. I fell back to what I knew best which was how to be a volunteer. I pushed down my feelings for you and convinced myself that it was only my own heart that I was bruising in the process…”

He paused, taking a shaking breath. “But I was wrong, wasn’t I?” he asked softly, his face contrite. “I’ve hurt you a great deal over the past few months. It took me a while to realize how badly I had screwed up and then I tired to tell you how I felt after Poe’s visit, but by then you had already moved on and you weren’t in love with me any longer.

And I know I had no one to blame for that but myself, but it still hurt.”

“Oh my goodness, Jacques… I did love you… I do love you…” she broke across him, regret about her actions almost choking her.

He’d been trying to tell her that he loved her last week and she’d cut him off and trampled all over his heart.

“After Poe’s visit I was just so scared… I thought I’d messed everything up. And I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you and our family should Poe decide that the children needed to be relocated. I thought things would become less complicated if I was less emotionally invested in it… and I almost ruined everything…”

“No you didn’t… he told her firmly. “After the way that I’ve treated you it was only natural that you would be confused… You got tangled up in the mess that I made and I am so sorry about that.”

They’d both made quite a mess by not talking to each other properly, she realized. They could have been in a happy, loving marriage for months, had any of the had the courage to address the elephant in the room.

“Do you really love me?” Like him, she needed the confirmation, needed to hear him say it once more.

“My Olivia,” he whispered frantically, stealing tiny kisses between each word. “I love you so much…”

Sighing blissfully, Olivia just contemplated that she would be quite happy to stay here, on this couch with him for the rest of her life when he pulled away from her and sat up.

Pushing down her disappointment, she realized it was probably better if they both went upstairs to get some sleep, especially after the strenuous evening they’d had, but before she could swing her feet down, he tucked her between the back of the couch and his own body, pulling the quilt they kept on the armrest of the couch securely over her.

“You need to rest,” he told her, pillowing her head on his shoulder.

Smiling senselessly, she snuggled into his side, wrapping her arm around his waist.

“You really didn’t know how much in love with you I am?” he asked, his voice low and content as he wrapped his arms around her once more. “I often felt like I was the most obvious love-struck idiot in the world.”

“I really didn’t know,” she answered absent-mindedly, too distracted by the feel of his warm, sturdy chest underneath her and the way his arms were cradling her.

“Before… when we were still looking for the children I thought you could be, but after that I assumed you had simply grown bored with me.”

Only he hadn’t. He still loved her and her heart felt ready to burst with happiness.

Against her, Jacques had grown very still and then a gentle hand tipped her head back and a pair of dark, remorseful eyes met hers.

“I really made you feel that way?” He sounded absolutely devastated and Olivia cursed her thoughtless answer.

Knowing Jacques he was going to beat himself up over this for weeks to come and in the end it didn’t even matter. They were together, they loved each other and they had their children. In the end that was all that mattered.

“I will never forgive myself,” he whispered.

“Never?” she asked, quirking her eyebrow, hoping that by calling on their old joke, his mood would lighten somewhat.

He smiled at her words, but a hint of sadness remained.

“Well, at least not for a very long time.”

“How about I cut you a deal instead,” she offered, determined to convince him that he wasn’t the only one blame.

“You forgive me for saying that I no longer had feelings for you even though that was blatantly untrue and you forgive yourself for trying to protect me and the children by keeping your feelings towards yourself, seeing that your intentions were noble.”

“Hmm…” he pretended to think over her offer, the lines around his eyes crinkling.

“I have a counter-offer,” he answered eventually. “I forgive you instantly and take a little while longer to forgive myself. In the meantime I get to plan a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” she echoed, bewildered.

“A surprise,” he insisted. “Something to show you how much I love you. I’m sure it’ll make the process of forgiving myself go a lot quicker.” His expression made it clear that he was teasing now, but he was finally truly smiling and Olivia succumbed.

“All right,” she whispered, cuddling closer. “Deal. I can’t wait to find out what you’re planning tough.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he grinned back before kissing her fiercely and that was the last thing either one of them said for a long time.

[thej13579]

Sora La Bouff (KH/TPATF Semi-Twinning)

After succumbing to the Power of the Waking, Sora finds a new friend in Charlotte La Bouff. But he soon finds himself succumbing to her desires.

Here's a story that I had planned for a while. This is actually part of my two year anniversary since I started writing here. I originally planned to have this paired with an unrelated Charlotte La Bouff TG story, but I decided to make this story part of a trilogy that will be released throughout March so I scrapped the unrelated story.

If you have any constructive criticism and feedback, feel free to comment or reblog.

Falling.

The last thing Sora remembered before he began falling was Kairi and then nothing.

As he continued falling, Sora began to see shapes forming. The area was beginning to resemble less the everlasting void he was in and more of a city. There were lights all around and people were celebrating. For what, the Keyblade wielder didn’t know. As Sora gently floated to the floor, he could see a sign.

“New Orleans?”

The keyblade wielder began looking around. It was now daytime. The place seems friendly, lively and upbeat. There were no Heartless around, thankfully.

What he found was a mud puddle, or rather he found his face right in said puddle. Must’ve forgotten to pay attention to the environment around him. Sora struggled to get up, the mud was tracking all over his clothes, getting dirtier as he pulled himself up.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Sora swept the mud out of his eyes to see a woman. She was wearing a pink flapper dress with a feather boa and a matching cloche hat. She looked fairly attractive with bright blond hair and a sweet smile on her face. Her hand extended towards the muddy teen.

“I’m fine,” Sora took the woman’s hand, allowing her to help him get up. “I dealt with worse. This is nothing to me.”

“Probably,” the woman shrugged. “But your clothes. They are so dirty.”

“It’s nothing,” Sora shrugged. “I can handle it.”

“Nonsense,” the pink-clad woman took Sora’s hand and began leading him down the road. “Muddy clothes are quite dreadful and you need a bath as well. You’re awfully filthy right now. We’ll get you all cleaned up at my house.”

As Sora was dragged through the city, the two approached a large house. They went inside and the Keyblade wielder could only look in awe at the fancy furniture and decorations throughout the area.

“That’s my place,” the woman said. “What do you think?”

“It seems like a nice place to live in,” Sora commented. “You’re rich, huh?”

“Yeah,” the woman nodded. “By the way, I never got your name.”

“I’m Sora,” the teen answered. “And you...”

“I’m Charlotte La Bouff,” the pink-clad woman answered back. “It’s nice to meet you, Sora. Now, let’s get you to my room.”

Charlotte wasted no time in dragging Sora over to her room. The Keyblade wielder was surprised at how girly it was. A large pink canopy bed, princess dolls and plushies filled Charlotte’s shelves alongside books of fairy tales and a wardrobe filled with princess dresses. It was a room fit for a princess… or more accurately, someone who adored princesses.

“Let’s find you something to wear.” Charlotte dashed over to her wardrobe and opened it up, allowing Sora to get a good look at the clothes on display.

“But the only clothes you have are…” It was then Sora put two and two together. “No. No way! I’m not wearing a dress!”

“It’s not all day,” Charlotte shrugged. “Just until your clothes are clean. I’ll arrange a maid to get those things all cleaned up. I doubt you want to wear these muddy clothes any longer than you have to.”

As much as Sora hated to admit it, he knew Charlotte was right. The mud on his clothes were starting to dry up, making them increasingly stiff and uncomfortable to wear. He may have to wear one of her dresses for the time being, but no one would have to see him in her clothes as far as he knew.

“I suppose I can borrow your clothes for a bit.”

“Wonderful!” Charlotte pointed to a nearby door. “The bathroom’s right here with everything you need. Knock when you’re done so I can give you your clothes. My clothes are too big for you, but I have some hand-me-downs that could fit you quite well. Toodles.”

Sora was quick to make his way into the bathroom. As the bathtub began to fill, he quickly took off his dirty clothes and went right into the tub.

He was quick to scrub off the dirt and any remnants of mud that got onto him personally. Cleaning himself up went smoothly even if he had to use Charlotte’s Berry Princessy shampoo and her Peachy Princess body wash in the process.

Sora looked down at his body as he dried himself off with a pink towel. He knew he was never a very hairy guy, but he noticed that all of his body hair had oddly disappeared while he was taking his bath. Maybe the Peachy Princess body wash was also some sort of that nair that he heard about?

“Probably not a big deal,” Sora stroked his leg. “But it’s still rather weird.”

Once he was done and completely dried, Sora ran up to the bathroom door and knocked on it.

“Um… I’m done.”

“Wonderful!” The door opened and Sora quickly found a bundle of clothes in his hands. “I bet these would simply make you look fabulous. Come out when you’re done.”

Charlotte quickly shut the door, leaving Sora alone with a bundle of her clothes. He set them down on a nearby dresser and went through each article of clothing: A pink bra and matching panties, a casual pink sundress, two-inch heels and a floppy sun hat to complete the ensemble.

Sora sighed. He knew he didn’t have a choice. He didn't have any spare clothes and the outfit Charlotte gave him is the only thing that could fit him at the moment.

It’s just clothes. It’s not like this was going to be permanent as far as Sora knew.

Besides, he had to admit that dress is kind of cute.

Once Sora was dressed, he turned to the bathroom mirror.

He had to admit that he looked better than he thought, but he still didn’t look great. His hair was spike-free from the bath he took earlier and it was covered by the sun hat. The dress fit fine on him, but he knew it was obviously meant for a woman; someone who had breasts and womanly hips, features Sora doesn’t have.

Sighing, Sora reluctantly left the bathroom, struggling not to trip in his heels. He couldn’t help but feel confused. He can jump buildings and he has light-speed reflexes. How is it that he can’t walk in these shoes?

When Sora stumbled out of the bathroom door, Charlotte was waiting for him. A smile crept up on her face.

“Oh, Sora,” Charlotte pulled the Keyblade wielder into a hug. “You look nice… what’s with the long face?”

“It’s just that I… feel silly.”

“Well, lucky for you, I know just the thing to fix that.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Charlotte pushed Sora onto a chair and dragged it towards her vanity. “Nothing makes a girl feel pretty like a face full of makeup and I bet it’ll do wonders for you as well. Now then...”

All of a sudden, her hands were holding various makeup supplies - powder, lipstick, mascara, blush, a bunch of other things he doesn’t recognize at all.

“Let’s get you all dolled up.”

She descended on him like a hungry animal

An enormous cloud of face powder forms around him, making him cough and shut his eyes. Sora could hear Charlotte’s voice going a mile a minute as he felt various cosmetics being applied to his face.

“Those brows are too bushy and those lips need a little lipstick to be nice and kissable. I bet there are plenty of boys who would be dying to kiss you by the time we’re done. Oh-”

When he manages to open them again, he’s back in front of the mirror… and his face is now completely unrecognizable. Red lipstick has been applied to his lips, his eyelashes are longer and coated with mascara, he has subtle black eyeliner, his cheeks are pinker and his eyes are covered with blue eyeshadow. He looks down at his hands and his fingernails have been painted red and had extensions to boot. His ears even had pearl studs in them and his eyebrows were plucked into high, feminine arches. Completing the look was his hair which was styled exactly like Charlotte’s.

“What did I tell you,” Charlotte exclaims. “Don’t you look so much better with makeup?”

“I guess I do,” Sora admitted. While his body still looked a bit too masculine for the dress, his face looked beautiful. To him, it sort of looked like Barbie’s head and clothes were on Ken’s body.

“Now, since we still have plenty of time before your clothes are clean again, I think the two of us should have some nice tea together.”

Charlotte turned towards her bedroom door.

“Follow me.”

As the young woman proceeded to leave the bedroom, Sora looked down at his heels. He knew he didn’t want to trip and potentially injure himself, so he decided to emulate Charlotte’s movements as she could obviously walk in them without much trouble. He watched as Charlotte wiggled her hips and he could see her feet walking heel-to-toe. Sora proceeded to emulate both of those mannerisms and he found himself walking in heels with no trouble at all.

Sora quickly followed Charlotte down to the backyard patio where a butler was pouring some hot tea. He could feel a slight shiver as the wind gently passed through his hairless legs.

Charlotte quickly sat down, smoothing the skirt of her dress. Sora followed suit, taking care to follow Charlotte’s example. He didn’t want to wrinkle his dress. He knew Charlotte wouldn’t be too happy if he ran the risk of ruining it.

“You know, Sora,” Charlotte said. “Looking back on this whole thing, I feel like we developed a strong bond over these past few hours.”

“Really? I love making friends!”

“Well...” Charlotte nodded. “I feel like we’re more family.”

“I’m like a little brother to you?”

“More like a little sister,” Charlotte giggled. “After all, what little brother of mine wears dresses and makeup like you right now?”

“I suppose I do look the part. I look quite the girly girl, right?”

“Oh yes,” Charlotte nodded. “I can tell that you’re quite girly and I mean very, very girly. Why almost as girly as anyone can possibly be.”

“I’m not that girly,” Sora protested.

“But you are,” Charlotte rebutted. “I bet you love the dress that I let you borrow and don’t tell me that you weren’t smiling when I showed you the end result of your little makeover. I saw that.”

As much as Sora wanted to protest and as reluctant as he wanted to admit it, he knew Charlotte was right. He did like the dress Charlotte lended him and he definitely loved his little makeover.

“I guess you’re right,” Sora reluctantly confessed. “But…”

“It’s your body, right.”

Sora gasped. How did she know?

“Don’t be so shocked, Sora. I know that dress wasn’t meant for a body like yours. If anything, I’m surprised it fits you as well as it did.”

Sora looked down at his body. His muscular arms, rough frame and his lack of womanly breasts ensured that he would never look as feminine as his new friend. He almost felt ashamed to think of such a thing.

“Cheer up, Sora. That body issue you have is nothing we can’t fix.”

“Fix?” Sora wondered. “What are you-’

Before Sora could finish, Charlotte quickly shoved a piece of chocolate into his mouth. The young keyblade wielder couldn’t help but find the taste of the candy to be incredibly sweet. He couldn’t stop chewing it.

“You like it?”

Sora nodded.

“Then have some more.” Charlotte handed Sora a package of chocolates. He was quick to eat the rest of them, taking pleasure in each and every bite.

“I love the chocolate,” Sora gleefully said. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Sora. After all,” Charlotte grinned. “I’m helping you become a presentable woman.”

“Wait, what?”

It was then Sora felt a weird tingle throughout his body. He looked down at his arms in confusion and what he saw paralyzed him with shock. The muscles in his arms were slowly shrinking, leaving them soft and slender.

“W-what have you done to me?”

“I just gave you some chocolates,” Charlotte giggled. “Apparently, they have some sort of special chemical that’s supposed to make anyone who eats it more feminine on the outside and inside. I don’t know the full details on how it works, but that’s not the point. The point is that you’re already quite feminine in both areas so I decided to give you these chocolates to crank it up a bit. Aren’t you excited?”

“N-no!” Sora cried out as his body changed further. The chocolates were quick to work on his abs, shrinking his well-earned muscular figure into a much more dainty and delicate frame. His height wasn’t immune as he shrunk several inches. His build is now more resemblant of Kairi than his old self.

“I know the changes can be quite stressful,” Charlotte approached Sora. “Let’s go back to my room. I have just the thing to help you.”

Charlotte grabbed Sora’s arms and dragged him back into her house.

“L-let me go!” Sora cried. He tried to break out of Charlotte’s grip, but he couldn’t so much as budge her arm. What made his feelings of weakness even worse is that his chest began to swell. He could feel a pair of breasts pushing out from his chest, perfectly filling out his bra. He poked his breast with his free hand. It can’t be real.

Of course, Sora knew better. They were very real.

Before he knew it, Sora was back in Charlotte’s room. The young woman placed Sora on her pink canopy bed. The increasingly feminized boy reluctantly complied as he tried to relax. There was one part of his body that hadn’t been changed yet and he wasn’t looking forward to its replacement at all.

“Now then,” Charlotte pulled up a chair and sat down by Sora. “Time for the last step. I’m going to give you a bunch of my opinions. Those opinions would go through your head and your new feminine mind will gladly accept them as your opinions as well. You’re going to be quite the girly-girl by the time we’re done.”

“N-no.”

“Yes,” Charlotte pulled out a list. “For starters, as I mentioned earlier, you are girly and I mean very, very girly. In fact, you want to be as girly as possible. You adore anything feminine and you can’t stand the thought of doing anything masculine such as playing sports and fighting others. You’re disinterested in such masculine activities at best and downright disgusted at worst.”

“That’s not true!”

“But it is true,” Charlotte rebutted. “Your favorite color is pink and you wanted to make sure that everybody knows it. From your wardrobe to your room, not a single aspect of your life was spared. Ever since you were a kid, your most beloved hobbies are playing dress-up, tea parties and reading fairy tales. Even today, you still love doing those three things.

“No!” Memories began to flow into Sora. Playful spars with Riku and Tidus begin to fade away and in their place were tea parties with Selphie and other girls that he can’t quite remember the names of.

“Yes. You were always quite the sweet and perky young lady. You tried your best to be kind and friendly to everyone you meet. The thought of fighting others just simply scares you. After all, you’re just a dainty and delicate girl. You let men protect you and speaking of men, you want one.

“I want a man?” Sora reluctantly asked.

“Yes you do, but you don’t want just any man. You want someone handsome and brave, someone more than capable of sweeping you off your feet and holding you in his strong, muscular arms. You want a man who can make you feel safe when the danger has passed, someone who can make you feel like a princess when you’re with him.

“I don’t want a man!”

“Of course you don’t,” Charlotte responded. “At least, not just any man. You want a prince too. You always looked up to me as your big sister and you sought to emulate me in every way possible. Ever since you were little, you dressed like me, acted like me and you even decided to have the same dream as me. To this day, you wanted to be a princess and you want to marry a prince. I understand.”

“You do?” Sora asked. It was getting increasingly difficult for him to focus on the memories and feelings that he had as images began of dresses, princesses, fairy tales to pour into his mind. He can feel it consuming his mind.

“It’s not hard to see why you want to be a princess,” Charlotte replied. “I bet I have the exact same reasons as you. To have your body caressed by soft and pretty dresses, to hear the wonderful clacking sound of your heels against the ground. Don't you want to have a tube of lovely pink lipstick slowly applied against your lips leaving them plump and kissable? And then to have a dashing prince hold you in his arms and give those kissable lips of yours a long smooch? It’ll be true love."

“No,” Sora denied. “That’s not true, I can’t-”

He clutched his throat. His adam’s apple slowly disappeared into his throat, leaving the keyblade wielder with a rather girlish voice.

“Then give it a try. Just close your eyes and imagine yourself wearing the loveliest dress you have ever seen. Imagine yourself being swept off your feet by a handsome prince and as the two of you ride on his horse together, your prince will pull you into a long and loving kiss. Just imagine that. Wouldn’t it be so wonderful?

Sora finds himself closing his eyes again. But as hard as he tries to fight the image off, he can see it clearly in his head. He can see himself in a lovely pink dress with layers upon layers of petticoats. He can see a handsome and muscular prince sweeping him off his feet and taking him back to his kingdom. He can feel his heart racing as the prince leaned closer and closer to him.

“It’s going to be okay, Sora. Just accept your feelings and everything will be just fine.”

It was then… they kissed.

Sora can feel the last change being made to his body. His manhood quickly shrunk to the point where it barely existed anymore. In the blink of an eye, Sora soon found himself the owner of his new womanhood. In spite of such radical changes to his body over a short period of time, the process was fairly painless.

“And… done,” Charlotte set her list down. “See that wasn’t so bad, was it, Sora?”

Sora tried to say something, anything, but no matter what, he couldn’t get any words out. It was then something in him snapped, or rather in her. Sora knew any semblance of masculinity she once had was forever gone. She was a woman now, both inside and out.

“Speechless, huh,” Charlotte giggled. “No matter. Now, we got to get you ready for the party.”

“Party?”

“Yes, your birthday party, sis. Come on, let’s go to your room.”

Charlotte pulled Sora off of her bed and dragged her out of her room. She quickly took her little sister next door and into another room. It was the exact same room as Charlotte’s complete with dolls, princess dresses and books of fairy tales. The only real difference that Sora noticed was that her pink canopy bed was slightly smaller than Charlotte’s. She knew it was her room.

“Now…” Charlotte walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out a bundle of pink fabric. “Let’s get you out of my hand-me-downs and into one of your own dresses.”

When Sora was completely dressed, she gasped at her reflection. Gone was the casual pink sundress that Charlotte gave her earlier and she was now wearing a rather familiar pink gown… it was the one from his fantasy from earlier.

Sora could recognize it from its extremely bright pink color, its layers upon layers of petticoats, the flowers embroidered onto it, the off-the-shoulder sleeves exposing a fair bit of his breasts… her breasts.

Sora looked down at her chest. It was flat just a few hours ago and now it’s containing amply sized breasts. At least a B-Cup. Those were far from the only changes that she noticed. He was now sporting an hourglass figure with girlish hips, slender legs and a vagina where his penis once was. Such massive changes without his knowledge or consent would normally make the former keyblade wielder scream, but she couldn’t find herself being able to care enough to do so. After all, the changes made her look much better than she did before. She would’ve looked like a joke if she wore that dress with her old body.

“How about you redo your makeup?” Charlotte asked. “It’s a little smudged and you could use some practice.”

“Of course.”

Sora went over to her vanity and began doing her makeup. As she applied blush to her cheeks, she can recall something from long ago. A vague memory. Something about a trip away from an island with a boy with silver hair and a girl with dark red hair.

Sora looked at her face. First, blue eyeshadow, then mascara. The contrasting colors would make his eyes stand out more. Sora knew that a woman’s eyes should be the first feature that a boy should catch rather than… certain assets.

Another memory popped up. She can vaguely recall teaming up with an anthropomorphic dog and a duck to find her two friends.

Sora applied bright red lipstick to her lips, forming an ideal "cupid's bow" shape that left her mouth almost begging to be kissed. Preferably by a handsome prince.

The last memory that popped up was what made Sora shudder. Hordes of Heartless running around hurting people and Sora was quick to stop them. She can recall dodging each attack and slaying the monsters through the power of the Keyblade.

Of course, it wouldn’t make sense for a dainty young lady like her to be out fighting monsters or do anything dangerous like that. She’s not Sora the Keyblade Master. She’s Sora La Bouff, the second daughter of Eli “Big Daddy” La Bouff, Charlotte’s little sister and a young woman who longs for her prince. While originally reluctant to do so, Sora was quick to toss aside her old life and take her place as the youngest daughter of the La Bouff family.

The last thing she did was put the silver tiara right on her head. She looked like a princess. She was ready.

“I’m done!” Sora turned to her sister who was looking at her with pride.

“I knew you can do it!” Charlotte pulled her little sister into a hug. “Before we go, there’s something we need to talk about.”

“What is it?”

“There aren’t going to be any princes here tonight. Now before you get upset, let me explain,” Charlotte said.

Sora could barely hold in a sigh of disappointment. “What is it?”

“First, even if there is a prince here tonight, you can’t ask him to marry you as you are still too young for marriage. About two years, I believe. But,” Charlotte grinned. “There are a few nice young men your age that I bet are dying for a dance with you. Now come on.”

Charlotte ran out of Sora’s room and she quickly followed. It wasn’t long before the two ended up in a fancy ballroom. Sora knew she had to put on a show to impress her guests.

She quickly cocked a hip towards her audience, threw a bunch of glitter above her head and blew out a kiss.

“Go get em, sis.”

At the behest of her sister, Sora nervously approached the center of the ballroom and as if it was orchestrated by fate, a young teen walked up towards her. He was strong, muscular and dwarfed Sora in physical size. He silently bowed to her. Sora quietly curtsy back and the man took her hand into his.

The two proceeded to dance throughout the ballroom. The other guests were silent, eagerly watching Sora dance with the boy before her.

As the young man pulled Sora towards him, her eyes leaned towards another boy her age not too far from her. Maybe she can have her next dance with him?

While Sora was dancing with man after man, two of his enemies were laughing maniacally over his fate.

“It’s done,” Maleficent grinned. “Sora will no longer be a threat to us anytime soon.”

“Well color me surprised,” Pete laughed.

“What do you mean you’re surprised?”

“Well, it’s just that considering our current track record with those do-gooders I’m shocked that our trap worked as well as it did.”

“Our past failures lately were little more than small hindrances on our road to victory. Sora’s mind and heart are now trapped in the little fantasy that I set up for him and with each passing moment, he is becoming more and more the dainty little lady you see before you. If the Heartless ever find him here, he’ll be completely helpless.”

“But what about if someone else comes in to rescue him like that silver-haired brat, Riku?”

“Then they will find themselves succumbing to the same fate,” Maleficent answered. “And for girls like Kairi, they will be in for quite a surprise.”

[fengbi]

One Day, Three Autumns: Chapter Two

Pairing: Adrienette Tags: Historical AU, China AU, WWII AU, 1930s AU, drama Summary: Shanghai, 1933.

The world is on the verge of war. Marinette and Adrien fall in love anyway, hoping to beat the odds.

One

The second time Marinette ran into Adrien Agreste, it was Alya’s fault.

The fact that Marinette somehow managed to run into the same man again in a city of three million was not Alya’s doing, but the circumstances under which their meeting happened most certainly was.

It was certainly Alya’s fault that Marinette was now in Adrien Agreste’s arms, having literally run into Adrien Agreste. At full speed. It was also Alya’s fault that Adrien Agreste’s hands were now on Marinette’s back. His bare fingers, touching the bare skin of Marinette’s back. Definitely Alya’s fault. It was all Alya’s fault that the palm of Adrien Agreste’s hand was now resting, quite comfortably, between Marinette’s shoulder blades. Adrien Agreste’s bare skin resting against her equally bare skin. All of it was Alya’s fault.

~~~

It started that morning, when Alya had welcomed herself into Marinette’s home as usual. Alya’s mother had returned from abroad so Alya came bearing gifts -- a linen shawl for Popo, a lace parasol for Marinette’s mother, and a dress for Marinette herself.

A dress that had Marinette blushing and furiously shaking her head. “Alya, that’s ridiculous! I can’t wear that! Th-that’s….that’s indecent! So extremely and very terribly indecent I couldn’t possibly!”

Standing before Marinette, Alya held up the dress. From the front it appeared to be a fairly standard dress, the skirt ending at the knee and a modest scalloped collar.

“Girl, you know I love you but you’re being ridiculous,” Alya coaxed. “This is the latest trend in Paris! All the most stylish ladies are wearing this style! Maman brought this all the way from France! Come on, you can’t deny that this dress is absolutely gorgeous.” Alya shook the dress in Marinette’s face.

Covering her burning cheeks with her hands, Marinette studied how the dress flowed with Alya’s shaking. Indeed, the dress was incredibly well made and the thin fabric fluttered beautifully with the slightest breeze. Any other dress, and Marinette would have been thrilled and begging to try it on just once.

��But....but it’s a gift for you! I-I can’t take something your mother gave to you!” Marinette began pacing, throwing her arms up and around in jerky, exaggerated motions.

Shrugging, Alya continued to hold the dress towards Marinette. “But look. It’s blue. You know what blue does to my complexion. I will not be seen looking like a blueberry and it’d be such a shame for such a lovely dress to go to waste. Besides, Maman got me more than just one dress! And this shade of blue does such wonderful things to your complexion.”

Marinette’s face was steadily growing redder by the minute. “But the back! It’s so….so indecent!”

The entire problem with the dress from the back. The back hung open and backless, revealing the wearer’s entire backside, framed by rivets of gossamer fabric.

“My back will be cold! I’ll catch a chilly wind and get sick! I could die!” Marinette continued to protest, hands waving wildly. Alya had to take a step back to avoid Marinette’s flailing limbs.

“None of the Parisian women have died yet.”

Marinette stopped and faced Alya. She blinked, eyes wide and bulging. Her mouth opened and closed, mouthing silent words.

“Nothing to say?” Alya smirked, once again stepping forward to thrust the dress in Marinette’s face. “You know this colour would look stunning with your eyes? Come on, at least try it on. Just once! I need to see how it looks on you!”

Sighing, Marinette ceded defeat and reached out to take the dress from Alya’s hands before she slipped behind her rice paper divider.

“Girl! You look fabulous!” Alya gushed the moment Marinette pushed the divider aside. “This colour was made for you!”

At that moment, the trapdoor flung open and Marinette’s mother poked her head into Marinette’s room.

Immediately, she noticed the dress Marinette wore. “Oh! Is that a new dress? It’s very beautiful,” she said, pulling her upper body into a sitting position on Marinette’s bedroom floor. Her legs dangled against the ladder.

“Hello Madame Cheng! Maman bought it in France and I thought it’d be perfect for Marinette,” Alya said, offering a hand to pull Madame Cheng to her feet.

Madame Cheng studied Marinette.

“Mama! It’s really nothing! I’m just trying it on! Alya’s going to take it back right afterwards!” Marinette protested, her cheeks dangerously red. She took a step back and stumbled into her divider and yelped.

While Marinette whipped around to steady her divider, Alya leaned over to conspiratorially stage whisper into Madame Cheng’s ear, “She’s keeping the dress.”

Madame Cheng’s eyes twinkled as she smiled. “Mei Mei, please twirl for me.”

Biting her lip, Marinette stiffly tucked her arms against her chest and spun around once. The layered skirt floated up, layer by layer, before fluttering back down. Behind her, the gossamer fabric lining Marinette’s bare back drifted up as well, creating the illusion of wings.

“Ah, this colour really matches your eyes. But, Mei Mei, you would be so much more beautiful if your arms were not so stiff!”

“Mama!” Marinette’s hands flew up to cover her face.

Paying Marinette no mind, Alya said to Madame Cheng, “Mari really should show off her eyes more.”

“Yes,” Madame Cheng agreed, “Mei Mei has beautiful eyes. Every other young lady who sees you is so jealous, why must you insist on wearing such dull colours? You must wear this dress out today.”

“But Mama!” Marinette protested. “The wind could blow on my back and give me a cold!”

“It is June,” Madame Cheng said as she descended down the ladder leading to Marinette’s room, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Foreign styles are expensive and difficult to come by. We must show off what we have.”

After her mother disappeared beneath the floorboards, Marinette gave Alya a defeated look. After all, one simply does not argue with a Chinese mother.

Alya smirked victoriously.

~~~

Outside, Alya and Marinette did not get very far before Marinette stumbled over the uneven path.

Marinette’s home was near the docks, and by extension, near the foreign business sector of Shanghai, where rich foreigners experienced the best China had to offer. Close enough that Alya could drop by whenever she so desired. But, not close enough as Marinette’s street was no different from the average street in Shanghai. As such, the buildings were old, storekeepers were forced to live above their shops, and the streets were never even.

So, in all fairness, it was also the street’s fault that Marinette was now in such a compromising position with Adrien Agreste. Just a little. It was still mostly Alya’s fault.

“Oof,” Adrien Agreste had huffed, the air having been knocked out of him when Marinette collided. “Oh God, I apologize for not paying attention. Are you alright, Miss?”

Marinette recognized his voice instantly. With her cheek squished against the chest of Adrien Agreste, she groaned softly in humiliation and exasperation. Of all the people in Shanghai.

Adrien Agreste had taken her groan as a sign that she had been hurt and stepped back, hands moving to grip her shoulders in case she needed support. Quickly, Marinette shook her head frantically, her twin braids flying. “No, no, I’m fine. Just fine.” Her voice was breathy as she stared at her feet, trying to hide her face from Adrien Agreste.

“She’s fine,” Alya piped up. Marinette could hear Alya laughing at her.

Adrien Agreste still sounded concerned though. “Are you sure, Miss? Miss?”

Marinette was squeezing her eyes shut, trying to think of how to get out of this situation.

Unfortunately, Alya was still laughing. “Marinette’s a walking hazard, she’s fine.”

Their first meeting had been days ago, and it would not have been unusual if Adrien Agreste had no recollection of her. Marinette was, after all, just another Chinese girl in Shanghai.

“Miss Marinette?” Adrien Agreste’s tone indicated to Marinette that he did indeed remember her from their less than stellar meeting a few days prior.

With her cover blown, Marinette looked up at Adrien Agreste with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry Mister Agreste, I’m fine. Really, I am. I’m just a little clumsy, you see. But really, this happens all the time and it really was my fault for not being more careful.” At that moment, Marinette realized Adrien Agreste’s hands were still on her shoulders, prepared to steady her if needed. Smiling a smile of false confidence, Marinette took a step back to show she was fine and able to move on with her day.

Only, Marinette stepped on the same uneven spot as earlier and stumbled again. And again, Adrien Agreste caught her.

Alya had stopped laughing after hearing the Agreste name. “Agreste? As in the French textile mogul?”

Having steadied herself, Marinette hissed, “Alya!” Her head whipped over to give Alya a dark look.

But Adrien Agreste wasn’t at all fazed by Alya’s bluntness. “Yes,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “My father is the head of the company.”

“Then what brings an Agreste out to this side of town? This is hardly the place for an Agreste, as you can see.” Alya’s words had Marinette shifting uncomfortably. Though Marinette was no stranger to giving subtly biting remarks, she had already made her peace with Adrien Agreste and wanted to keep it that way before he said something that would brush her the wrong way. Really, all Marinette wanted to continue her day and forget about Adrien Agreste’s existence.

“The city?” Adrien looked confused, and relief flooded Marinette when Adrien Agreste did not appear to be even slightly offended.

“This street. This is hardly a street an Agreste would stand on,” Alya’s saccharine tone was borderline mocking.

Adrien Agreste, however, was undisturbed by Alya’s tone. Instead, Adrien Agreste was more interested by Alya’s words. “This street? I mean no offense, Miss, but this seems like any other street to me.”

Bristling at Adrien Agreste’s obliviousness, Marinette narrowed her eyes. “It really is not,” she said coolly, taking a step away from Adrien Agreste. This time, she didn’t trip.

Adrien Agreste’s confused expression prompted Marinette to continue. “Look at these streets. Does the road where you stay really look like this? Do you see all these people around us?” Marinette gestured at the people walking around them, people going about their lives. “We are workers. Real workers. We own stores, are builders, sweep the streets, open restaurants. We make enough to get by, but not much more than that, and we despise the wasteful style of foreigners. The world does not care for us, and the General has forgotten about us.” Ending her tirade, Marinette smiled a wistful smile.

When Adrien didn’t immediately respond, Alya took that moment to interject, “Agreste, what street are you staying on?”

Adrien flushed slightly when he responded. “Huangpo Lu.”

“The Astor House Hotel,” Alya said, without any hesitation.

Scoffing, Marinette linked Alya’s elbow with hers. “Come, Alya, Mama will need me to watch the store soon.” Before leaving, Marinette faced Adrien Agreste and bowed at 45 degrees. “We will take our leave now, Mister Agreste. I apologize for my carelessness knocking into you earlier.” Then she turned on her heel and walked away.

If Marinette had waited a couple seconds later, she might have noticed the flash of guilt in Adrien Agreste’s eyes.

~~~

Days passed, then weeks, and soon June turned into July. With the change in month, came a change in climate. Marinette didn’t much like the summer months, with its intense humidity and boiling temperatures. Everything was wet and sticky, Marinette always felt that she would never be clean or dry again, and the humidity made it all the more difficult to store leftover cakes and buns.

The sour weather brought with it an unwanted guest. Thomas Dupain, the man himself, walked up to where Marinette was fumbling with the money box. Neither said a word as Thomas Dupain stopped, leaving a counter between the two.

Marinette continued staring at the money box on her lap, pretending she hadn’t noticed her father.

Thomas coughed uncomfortably, hoping to catch Marinette’s attention. Though she paused her rummaging momentarily, she began to pointless shuffle and reorganize the bills in her hands so that she would not have to address her father first.

Although it had not yet reached noontime, Thomas’ face was already dripping with sweat. The lack of a cool gust did him no favours. Even Marinette, long accustomed to the sweltering temperatures of Shanghai in July, had beads of sweat beginning to dot her neck and temples.

As Thomas was opening his mouth to finally break the terse silence between them, Mama stuck her head out from the kitchen. “Mei Mei, would you like a break to dust the cakes?” Before Marinette could respond, Mama noticed Thomas standing, his burly figure uncomfortably sticking out between the shelves of desserts and the small counter. “Thomas, hello,” Mama said in her broken, deeply accented French.

Having her mother there gave Marinette the chance to drop her charade. Almost immediately, Marinette set the money box down to quietly slip past her mother. “I’ll take care of the cakes.”

Thomas watched Marinette’s back disappear behind the door wistfully. “She used to never leave my side, when she was a little girl. Do you remember when she used to cling to my legs to ask me to stay?”

“That was a long time ago and it never stopped you.” Madame Cheng’s deliberately avoided Thomas’ gaze. “To Mei Mei, you are little more than a foreign stranger now.”

“I am Marinette’s father,” Thomas insisted. “I provide you and her with as much as I give my wife and son.”

“You were Mei Mei’s father,” Madame Cheng smiled regretfully, still not looking at Thomas directly. “It has been a long time since you have acted as one.” Seeing Thomas open his mouth to argue, Madame Cheng raised a hand and prompted him to stop whatever he was about to say. “No, Thomas, it has been a year since I saw you last and it will be another when I see you again. I do not want to argue. Please, join us for dinner.”

~~~

In the kitchen, Marinette had just barely started on the cakes before she was interrupted. Popo swept into the kitchen in a flurry of anger. “Mei Mei, was that a foreigner I heard?”

“Father is here,” Marinette said, dusting the sugar grains off her hands.

“Go change,” Popo said shortly, already moving to put Marinette’s unfinished cakes away.

“Popo?”

“Wear your red qipao. The one with the dragon and peonies. Outsiders who lie and debase our lovely Shanghai girls deserve to be reminded that they now have Chinese children. No white man who has been with a Chinese girl can claim to be the superior. We are the middle kingdom, and your scum father will never be accepted,” Popo snapped as she reached for a pot.

“Yes, Popo.” Marinette turned to leave, before stopping to ask one last question. “What will we be having for dinner?”

Smirking, Popo pulled rice and daikon from the cabinet. “We will be having Chinese food, Mei Mei.”

~~~

Thomas Dupain sat uncomfortably at the small table, fumbling with his chopsticks and a bowl of rice placed before him. In the middle of the table, a steaming pot of daikon soup sat with a dish of chive dumplings. A small plate of fermented bean curd and pickled daikon peel was set beside the dumplings.

Popo acted as though Thomas was not there, spooning daikon into her bowl. As Thomas was seated directly across from Popo, she blew on her soup under the guise of cooling her food. In actuality, knowing Europeans did not take well to the strong scent of daikon, Popo was intentionally wafting the scent toward Thomas.

“Mei Mei,” Popo said in Shanghainese, “you chose a good daikon today. Very tender. No strings.”

“Thank you, Popo,” Marinette said. She followed Popo’s lead, silently sipping at her soup and nibbling at the dumplings.

With only Thomas and Mama left to fill the massive gap in conversation, their words were stilted and uncomfortable.

“Thomas, when did you arrive in Shanghai?”

“Just a few days ago.”

“How long will you be staying?”

“I’m not sure yet. I leave when the Captain is finished his business.”

“Do you know where you go next?”

“I have a hunch it’s back to France for me.”

Thomas and Mama’s conversation was broken and forced (and the discomfort only magnified by Mama’s lack of fluency in French), but the mention of France ended any conversation that may have followed.

The four of them sat in a hushed silence, each wishing to cut the tension but none willing to be the one to do so. In the end, it was Popo who spoke up just as Marinette was finishing her rice.

“Why is he only eating the rice?” Popo gestured at Thomas’ bowl, still half full despite it being the only food he had touched during the meal. As Popo spoke only in Shanghainese, Thomas immediately looked to Mama, panicked, awaiting a translation.

Sighing, Mama responded. “My mother is asking why you do not drink the soup.”

“Ah,” Thomas relaxed. “I did not want to be rude, that is all.”

Instead of waiting for Mama to convey his words to Popo, Marinette jumped in to play translator. “He says he thought it was rude to eat more.”

Popo narrowed her eyes, but before she could say any more, Thomas glanced at his wristwatch and jumped up. “I apologize, unfortunately I am late for a meeting with my captain. I hope to be in Shanghai again soon.”

Before he left, Thomas pulled a small, jingling bag from his pocket and set it on the table. He nodded at Popo, smiled at Mama, and said “Goodbye, Marinette,” before turning and letting himself out of their home.

As soon as Thomas’ footsteps could no longer be heard, Popo snapped. “What uneducated foreigners. How rude to eat so little. And not even finish his rice! What a waste.”

“Ma,” Mama glared at Popo, “he can read and write! And has been to school!”

“Yet his unfinished food is now waste. Does he think we’re rich?”

“Ma, he understands responsibility. He leaves us more than enough money!”

“That certainly is true,” Popo said, grabbing the pouch Thomas left behind and immediately began counting the money. “Money is all that foreigner is good for.”

Marinette, knowing that Mama was about to explode at Popo, quietly slipped away from the table. Neither Mama nor Popo noticed Marinette disappear.

~~~

After each visit, Mama and Popo would not speak to each other for at least a week. Popo disapproved of Mama’s status as a second wife (“No daughter of mine should settle as the concubine of a white man.”), and Mama both ashamed she could not be the first wife as well at irritated by Popo’s comments. Tensions were always thick in the following days so Marinette offered to spend her time with customers in the shop, leaving Mama and Popo to knead out their frustrations into the dough.

Summer months were quiet months in the store as well. Soups and fruits were more welcome than breads and sticky pastries in the heat. The stickiness of the humidity was more than enough reason to move as little as possible and so, Marinette spent most of the day alone. Once in awhile Alya would drop by, but with her own mother around for the time being, Alya was preoccupied in her own home.

“Maman is home so rarely, all Ella and Etta want is Maman’s attention.”

“Well, Madame is on break.”

“Ella and Etta have broken a six plates, two spoons, a dozen frames, and a bookshelf trying to get Maman’s attention. And I had to clean all of it up.”

So Marinette spent her time embroidering alone in the store. The stark drop in customers gave her more than enough time to work. She was halfway through stitching a red swallow on a bamboo fan when she heard someone entering the store. Pulling her red thread taut, Marinette looked up and let out a soft, “oh,” when she saw who it was.

“Erm, hello, Miss,” Adrien Agreste stopped beside the bread shelf, his hands clasped together in front of him.

Though Marinette did set her embroidery needle down, she continued to hold onto her unfinished fan. She said nothing, instead she watched Adrien Agreste, expectantly waiting for him to pick something from the shelves and leave.

When he did nothing, Marinette narrowed her eyes. “Monsieur, do you need something?” She wasn’t mad -- she really wasn’t -- but Marinette had more than enough of snobbish Frenchmen with more money than they needed. It had been nearly two weeks since that disastrous dinner and Mama and Popo still were not speaking.

“I, er,” Adrien took a few tentative steps forward, “I simply wanted to apologize for my behaviour the other day, Miss Marinette. In all honesty, I am not entirely sure what I did wrong but I apologize for causing you offence.”

Marinette clutched her fan to her chest. “You did nothing wrong. It is simply that we are incompatible.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Marinette, but I must disagree with you. Our second meeting, when you offered me an egg tart, was quite enjoyable.”

“Then you are simply naive,” Marinette said bluntly. “You are from France. I know the likes of you. You will play with me, enchant me, then dump me without consequence. We are from different worlds and I have no interest in playing your exotic pet.”

Adrien Agreste was taken aback, eyes wide and mouth slightly opened. “I, er...”

“Save it,” Marinette sighed, attention shifting back onto her fan. “I’ve had enough of shameless Frenchmen in this one month to last me a lifetime.”

Though Marinette’s tone was gentle, her words cut into Adrien. He found himself suddenly angry, only seeing red. “I see, Mademoiselle. I see how our handful of  meetings have been more than enough for you to determine who I am, and the quality of the nation I am from. I will bother you no longer and I apologize for interrupting your work.”

With his head bowed, Adrien slunk out of Marinette’s bakery. With his back turn to Marinette, she could not see how his face was flushed with anger and humiliation.

Marinette looked up from her fan just in time to see Adrien’s back disappear behind the corner. Though she was still thoroughly incensed from their brief conversation, her chest panged uncomfortably from guilt.

Three

Fluffytalk: There’s a lot of Chinese cultural quirks added in here that would take a really long time to explain so I’ll try to make this short. The important scene is that awkward dinner with Thomas.

Daikon soup: Daikon is the Japanese name. It’s 白萝卜 (Bai Luo Bo) in mandarin which is a white radish but it seems to be most often called daikon in North America so....It has super strong scent that people who don’t grow up eating it (and some who do grow up eating it) tend to find repulsive.

Pickled daikon peel: it’s exactly what it sounds like but I swear it tastes better than it sounds

Chive dumplings: Another very strong scent that I’ve been mocked for by my white classmates ><

Tofu Curd: A side dish often paired with light foods. It looks like a bleached cube of poop but is actually super yummy 

Also, in China, when you are invited out to eat you must eat a lot or risk offending the host. Also everyone gets an individual rice/soup bowl but all the vegetables and soups and stuff are all placed in the middle.

Second wife: In China a second wife is basically a concubine and it’s still practiced today (although much less common) and the second wife is looked down upon 

If you have any other questions, comments, or just want to talk, feel free to leave a comment/message me!

[junker-town]

Who won Hall of Fame Game week in the NFL?

Derick E. Hingle-USA TODAY Sports

Michael Thomas got a massive contract. Vic Fangio got a kidney stone. Tough call, tough call.

Winning in the NFL doesn’t just happen on the field. Victories large and small come in many different forms, ranging from nine-figure contract extensions to a few kind words said by an important figure.

While we’ve got a whole table to determine division-by-division standings and playoff odds, we often lose track of the more subtle victors each week. Rather than just running down a list of the Dolphins’ weekly opponents this fall, I decided to take a deeper look at the winners who transcend the box scores and spill glorious into the greater world as a whole.

Which is good, because this week’s, uh, limited slate of games didn’t tell the world much about the 2019 season other than which team, the Broncos or the Falcons, had the weaker fourth-string lineup. So who “won” the first, single-game week of this summer’s preseason?

First let’s start with who didn’t.

Not considered: the actual football at the Hall of Fame Game

Due to an internet outage, I missed the first two minutes of gameplay in Canton. Somehow this equated to TWO ENTIRE POSSESSIONS.

Through their first three drives, the Falcons had twice as many penalties (two) as net yards (one). Ten of the game’s first 12 drives ended in punts. Three of those punts were muffed. It took rookie quarterback Drew Lock four passes to get within three yards of his intended target downfield. Denver challenged a pass interference call seemingly just to be the answer to an obscure trivia question for years to come.

But hey, if you liked six-yard passes on third-and-9, THIS was the game for you.

the 2019 Hall of Fame Game's longest plays: 3. DEN RB Khalfani Muhammad, 31 yard run 2. ATL DE John Cominsky, 33 yard muffed punt recovery 1. DEN CB Linden Stephens, 43 yard pass interference penalty

— Christian D'Andrea (@TrainIsland) August 2, 2019

Kurt Benkert was the shining star of this wind-up car demolition derby, and he still threw for 5.4 yards per pass and left the game in the fourth quarter with a foot injury. He and Matt Schaub are currently dueling for the chance to start Atlanta’s meaningless Week 17 game after half the roster has been shunted to the injured list by conquest, pestilence, war, and death. Falcons fans will shake their heads and mournfully tell the world they “knew it would end this way.”

While we’re on the topic of premonitions Falcons fans can feel in their bones, Atlanta lost thanks to a tipped-ball touchdown on fourth down with under two minutes to play. This was the only vaguely exciting moment in football’s 2019 preseason debut.

Now, on to the winners ...

5. Resplendent old guys at the Hall of Fame Game

Tony Gonzalez is gonna look like this until he’s 80:

Tell me he wouldn’t still put up 60 catches if the Patriots or Cowboys called tomorrow.

Ed Reed would probably do all right too. He looks like he’s spent the past five seasons gearing up to fly a fighter jet against an alien invasion that will ultimately be foiled because their spaceships run on binary code.

@TwentyER pic.twitter.com/9Bd1jZ0Jqw

— Baltimore Ravens (@Ravens) August 2, 2019

Former WCW superstar Kevin Greene (and part-time pass rusher, I guess) also made the most of his camera time.

The guy’s 57 years old and still rocking an absolute Hercules mane. Bonus points for wearing a watch apparently made from the tie-down straps of a military cargo plane.

4. Nathan Peterman, whom everyone* likes

Everyone loves an underdog. As far as NFL quarterbacks go, there’s no bigger underdog than Peterman, the man who once threw five interceptions in a 14-pass stretch to kick off his first NFL start. Getting chased out of Buffalo for ineffectiveness is typically the kind of offense that precludes a player’s journey to a budding and ultimately fruitless spring football league.

Not the Peter Man.

No, the quarterback whose bedraggled play in western New York made us all fall in love and spawned the least-hype hype video ever made is getting a second chance in Oakland. And, like the guy he beat out for a roster spot last year, Jon Gruden has a preseason crush on him for some reason.

“I like these guys. This Nate Peterman is growing on me,” Gruden told reporters at training camp. “He’s athletic. I know he’s had some nightmare performances in the NFL, but when you watch the film you can see why. It’s not all his fault, but he’s got some talent, he’s got some athleticism, he’s got some experience. Here’s an opening day starter for the Buffalo Bills last year. I take that very serious. And he’s smart. He’s done a good job, he’s been consistent and I think he’s starting to get his confidence back and we all need that.”

Naturally, this news was well received by Raiders fans. From SB Nation’s Silver and Black Pride:

No, coach, no. This is the sort of thing that Mark Davis should roll up a newspaper and smack Jon Gruden on the nose for saying. I get that Peterman played for literally the Bills and that he looks the part, like how a successful quarterback should look, in shorts. But Peterman also has a record of 1-3 as a starter and a QB/INT ratio of 3/12. He was aggressively ‘meh’ in college at Pitt, where he was essentially a more boring version of Tyler Palko, and when he got to the pro ranks based entirely on his genetics and through no achievements of his own, he proved how overmatched he was and how his decision-making ability rivals that of the kid who climbed in the gorilla pen with Harambe. Nate Peterman is the sort of musclebound stiff Vince McMahon would try and fail to make a big star in the 1980s.

But the joke’s on you, Peterman haters. Gruden’s not the only guy who likes this scrappy young upstart.

Find yourself a teammate who supports you like @derekcarrqb supports Nathan Peterman. #HardKnocksNow pic.twitter.com/WaElOAE0fA

— NFL Films (@NFLFilms) July 31, 2019

Peterman’s just out here trying to do his best, man. Listen to Derek Carr and give him his shoe deal. Preferably something from Member’s Mark.

*citation needed

3. Derek Carr, who is not threatened in the least

He gets to be friends with Peterman! He’s gonna be neighbors with Gruden!

It’s true. As David Carr said, Derek Carr has bought a home in Las Vegas. When it’s complete and he finally moves in, his neighbor will be ... Jon Gruden. #Raiders

— Vic Tafur (@VicTafur) August 1, 2019

I hope he likes cookouts where the only food option is Hooters takeout.

2. Jordan Lasley, who proved himself worthy of the Raiders (while a Raven)

If you get released for punching teammates and celebrating too hard, you get to be on Hard Knocks. Sorry, that’s how the league works now.

Here, you can kind of see the ball Jordan Lasley threw into the nearby pond shortly after his fight with the DBs. pic.twitter.com/AQyrDw8509

— Jonas Shaffer (@jonas_shaffer) July 29, 2019

The Raiders claimed Lasley — a 2018 fifth-round pick with zero career NFL receptions — days after Baltimore released him for fighting cornerback Cyrus Jones and turning his fists on safety Bennett Jackson for having the audacity to prevent him from breaking his hands on Jones’ helmet.

First fight of Ravens camp: WR Jordan Lasley takes exception to CB Cyrus Jones going high in press coverage and the two exchange blows. S Bennett Jackson tries to break it up and Lasley swings at him. Jackson then tackles Lasley to ground.

— Jamison Hensley (@jamisonhensley) July 29, 2019

Now Gruden has two quarterbacks who are best friends and an entire roster that wants nothing more than to fight anything and everything in its path.

Oakland’s final day of camp should just be a 30-man over the top rope battle royale. Last five men standing get roster spots. Winner takes on Vontaze Burfict at Halloween Havoc.

1. Michael Thomas, who now has an opinion on the capital gains tax

Is Thomas the best wide receiver in the league? It’s debatable, but you can make a strong argument for it. The fourth-year wideout has excelled in New Orleans, catching 229 passes the past two years for 2,650 yards. More impressively, he did so despite drawing constant double-teams from opposing secondaries who saw fellow wideouts like Tommylee Lewis, Willie Snead, Tre’Quan Smith, and a hobbled 33-year-old Ted Ginn and giggled to themselves, “heh, no.”

Is Thomas the highest-paid wide receiver in the league? He is now. Rather than run even the slightest risk of losing Drew Brees’ favorite target to either a preseason holdout or 2020 free agency, the Saints made him the first pass catcher to garner a $100 million contract, inking him for five years with $61 million in guarantees. He’ll now be counted on to present a field-stretching menace who not only gives Brees the latitude to make video game throws downfield, but also creates a little extra space for Alvin Kamara to create havoc.

Most importantly for New Orleans, Thomas was the balm that soothed Brees’ late-season blisters. The veteran quarterback appeared worn out while falling off an early MVP run; after recording a 126.9 passer rating in his first 10 games, that number dropped to 91.5 in his final five. Thomas’ numbers fell off in that home stretch too, but he still averaged eight catches and 65 yards per game. If the combination of extra defensive pressure and a reduced Brees aren’t enough to drop him to sub-Pro Bowl levels, what will?

Thomas got a record-setting contract and more ammunition in his battle to be crowned the league’s best receiver. And he didn’t have to play in the Hall of Fame Game. He wins this week.

Special mention: NOT Vic Fangio’s urethra

Fangio’s first game (kinda) as an NFL head coach after breaking into the pro coaching ranks 35 years ago almost didn’t happen.

Broncos’ HC Vic Fangio, scheduled to make his HC debut tonight vs Atlanta in Hall-Of-Fane game, spent a good part of the day in a Cleveland hospital with a kidney stone, per source. Fangio has not passed it yet, but he is doing better and he will try to coach tonight.

— Adam Schefter (@AdamSchefter) August 1, 2019

That every Broncos sideline shot Thursday night wasn’t just a window into the depths of human suffering was the Hall of Fame Game’s biggest upset. Every second he stood upright was a victory over the mutiny taking place inside his own body. With pirate ships circling his kidneys, Fangio stood atop his deck, surveyed the landscape, and asked his first mate to bring him his red pants.

Not that the pain wasn’t evident at times, despite a stoic front.

Fangio, for the record, wore this expression for four straight hours. Did he do all this just to become the first NFL coach to challenge a pass interference call? Probably!

[sairyn-noc]

Message in a Bottle

It was quiet; quiet enough that Harvey could finally let out the breath he was holding (figuratively) the whole night. One of his final duties now complete- the bachelor party. He looks over to where Mike is passed out on his couch. Kid never could hold his liquor he thinks to himself, all the while pouring himself a stiff drink. Harvey knows he has two more duties before this nightmare is over- write the best man’s speech and then stand quietly next to the man he loves and watch him marry someone else. There is no doubt in his mind he can do this- he can. He has been lying all of his life, what’s one more day? With that final morose thought meant to be encouragement, he puts pen to paper.

Two hours later, Harvey is surrounded by crumpled papers, each a tell tale sign of a mind in turmoil. Sure, they all start off good, but somehow, someway, Harvey’s own feelings slip in between the lines. How is he supposed to say all the wonderful things he thinks about Mike while not sounding like a man in love with the groom?

“Fuck this,” he utters as another page gets ripped from his legal pad and lands across the room. He quickly pours his second, maybe third drink. After a healthy swallow he picks up the pen and tries again.

Mike,

I knew you were something special the moment you crashed into my interviews. Beyond that annoying cockiness and bleeding heart was a man on the verge of greatness. It took some grooming, some time and a little attitude adjustment, but we finally got you presentable to the point that Rachel noticed. It was touch and go for a time, but not once did I doubt that the remarkable man I saw glimpses of that day would emerge and take the world by storm. I know that in Rachel you have found your true happiness and I dare anyone to try and stand in the way of you both getting the love you deserve. They say that no matter the path, the true destination always awaits us. And it has been a journey for the both of you. May your path now joined bring you everything you both have ever wished for, today, tomorrow and always. I stand before you, family, friends and guests and present to you Mr. and Mrs. Michael Ross.

Finish on AO3

Harvey can barely read the words on the paper. He steels his gaze and wills the water clouding his vision to go away. This is a speech worthy of Mike. And Harvey made a promise to himself when Mike went to jail. He would do everything in his power to first free him and secondly, make sure Mike never gets hurt again. And if that means breaking his own heart in the process, then so be it.

Harvey wakes the next morning, feeling like his world is ending, and it has nothing to do with the monster hangover he rightfully earned. It seems every muscle in his body hurts and his mouth feels like sandpaper. He doesn’t know when Mike got up and left or when he took the puppy’s place on the couch, but apparently he did. With a groan, Harvey rises.

“Good morning, sunshine,” a too cheery voice comes from the door.

‘Ugh, what time is it?”

“Time to rise and shine. Looks like the party ended here for you last night. Although by the looks of your office it looks like it was loads of fun. What did you do? Abandon Mike the first moment he turned his head?”

“Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving. And no. We both came back here after the party started to wind down.”

“I take it since you are here alone, you didn’t tell him.”

“Didn’t tell him what?”

Her fiery eyes transform into her signature ‘don’t play stupid with me, I am way smarter than you’ look. He knows it well.

“Donna, for the last time there is nothing to tell.”

“Keep lying to yourself, Harvey. But just so you know, you might have just wasted your last opportunity to tell that man how you feel.”

“He loves Rachel, Donna. It doesn’t matter what I may or may not feel.”

“Whatever. But if I were you, I would get a move on. The wedding is in 3 hours and in case you have forgotten, you’re Mike’s ride.”

Harvey looks around and sees his office littered with several crumpled pieces of paper. Suddenly it feels like it’s too much. “I haven’t forgotten,” he mumbles slowly coaxing his bones to move on command.

Her eyes soften as she strolls towards him. “Go,” she whispers, “I got this.”

Harvey picks up his speech that he actually managed to finish sometime this morning and walks towards his door.

He grasps her shoulder as he passes. “Thanks, Donna,” he mutters, walking slowly to his fate.

Harvey doesn’t remember much of the wedding and even less of the reception. What he does remember is how Mike looked standing up there next to him as he waited for Rachel. How his normally bright eyes seemed even brighter. The sigh Mike released as he saw her walking towards him. And Harvey doesn’t think he will ever forget the kiss they shared when it was over. But the one thing Harvey remembers above anything else was the feel of his whole world crumbling right before his eyes and the burning desire to have a do over, to go back to the way they once were, giving Harvey the chance to say all the things he never did. But that was nothing more than wishful thinking and Harvey knows better than that. So twelve hours after Harvey woke up on his couch, he walked out into the night sky, feeling alone for the first time in years.

***

Five years is a long time. Well at least for most. For Harvey the last five years have gone by in fits and starts. It was hard at first. He never thought he would leave New York, but with nothing to stop him, when opportunity came knocking on the west coast, he answered. He also didn’t think he would ever not have Donna by his side, but once again, life threw him a curve ball when she told him no, helped him pack up his life and kissed him goodbye.

Harvey’s life is good. He has made amends with his family, has a successful law business and can finally look back on his time at Pearson Specter Litt and more importantly the man who walked into his interviews and changed his world without anger or sadness. He starts to pack up his office, grabbing his phone when he notices he has missed two calls. One is from Alex, with an offer of a homemade dinner if Harvey can swing it. The message makes him smile. Harvey has been dating Alex for a few months now. It took a while, but Harvey was finally able to move on, and open himself up to someone. The second message is from Donna and it immediately makes his smile falter.

Harvey, I need you to come to New York. It’s Mike.

Harvey’s gut drops. He quickly picks up the phone, trying to get answers to the questions he is afraid to voice.

Within six hours, and a quick apology to Alex, Harvey is walking out of JFK with one focus in mind- getting to Mike. Donna’s words playing on an endless loop- accident, surgery, critical condition, wait and see. When he arrives in the critical care waiting area he sees Donna slumped in a chair, wadded up tissue clenched in her fist, her face puffy and red.

“Donna?”

“Harvey!”  She rushes into his arms, and he knows whatever it is, is bad. Donna has always been steady, a rock. The whole world could be falling apart around her and never once did he see her break a sweat.

“How is he?”

“I don't… They won’t…” He pulls her in tighter, rubbing her back. After a moment she pulls back.

“Come on, let’s sit down and you can tell me what happened?” He looks around briefly.

“Where’s Rachel? Is she in with him?” She flinches in his arms and shakes her head.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he coaxes, knowing now is not the time to push her on something she doesn’t want to talk about.

“He was out driving. He was… upset,” she chokes out. “It was late at night…and apparently he either wasn’t paying attention or caught off guard. Either way, a car came around a corner and ran through the light. He hit the driver’s side and.. And he was hit so hard, they had to pry Mike out.”

Harvey’s stomach roils. “Jesus.”

“What about the other guy? Is he hurt? Better yet, is he dead?”

Once again, she shakes her head.

“No,” she spits out. “He’s fine. Not a scratch. He was drunk, Harvey”

Harvey sees red. “That son of a bitch, where is he? What’s his name?” Strong arms reach up and stop him from leaving the area in a hot rage.

“Harvey, stop. Mike needs you,” she implores.

“Fine,” he grits out, his anger barely controlled. “Then tell me this. What the hell had him so upset and where the hell is Rachel? Why isn’t she here?”

Donna’s silence speaks volumes. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out there is more and he braces himself while he waits her out.

“Rachel and Mike had a…falling out.”

“What kind of falling out?”

“The kind that ruins relationships.”

“What… happened…?”

“Mike Ross?”

“Yes. That’s us,” he answers, putting their previous conversation on the back burner, for the moment.

He listens intently while the doctor informs them that Mike had extensive internal injuries, but that his surgery went well. “However,” he adds, “Mr. Ross had massive brain swelling, so we put him in a medically induced coma. We should know more in the next 24-48 hours.” Harvey sees the man walk away and hears Donna muffle a soft cry.

“Tell me he is going to be okay, Harvey.”

“Donna, listen to me. Mike is going to be fine.” He grasps her chin firmly, capturing her gaze. “I promise.”

It’s three days before Mike is allowed visitors. Harvey is the first person through the door.

Mike looks thinner than Harvey remembers, paler too. Of course that is nothing compared to the sickly purple and yellow bruises that seem to cover his arms and face. All Harvey can do is close his eyes and will away the machines, lines and tubes that seem to be invading every part of Mike’s body. Harvey wants to remember Mike the way he last saw him- with bright eyes and an infectious smile. A groan coming from the bed startles Harvey out of his thoughts. He quickly strides over to the bed, carefully reaching out to grasp Mike’s hand.

“Hey, don’t move, I’ll get a doctor.”

“Har..Harvey?”

“The one and only.”

“What are you doing here?”

“We can play twenty questions later, right now I need to get a doctor in here.”

“Is Rachel…”

Harvey hasn’t seen Rachel since he came into town and still doesn’t know what has happened between the two of them. But his instincts tell him it is something big. He sighs. “No, Mike, she isn’t here.”

“Good,” Mike murmurs.

Harvey walks to the door intent on getting a doctor and preventing Mike from saying anything else he might regret when he feels better. While Mike is getting examined, Harvey makes two phone calls. The first to Donna, telling her to get back down to the hospital and the second to Alex, to give an update on his plans to stay in New York a bit longer. When Donna arrives thirty minutes later, Harvey is waiting for her at the elevator.

“Harvey? What’s happened? Is Mike okay?”

“Mike’s fine. They are taking him for more tests. I think it’s time for us to talk.”

“About?” she asks warily.

“About Rachel. What happened between them? When I left they were fine…”

“Yeah, when you left. Well things weren’t as great as you wanted to believed. This was true even before you left.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that while you went off to the sunny shores of California, things were falling apart back home.”

“You can’t possibly be blaming me for whatever happened.”

“Of course not. But if you were here…”

“If I were here what? They wouldn’t have had problems, they would never fight?”

“Of course not, but … maybe. I don’t know, Harvey. We were family.”

“We still are. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t need other things. Mike got married, you started seriously dating what’s his name, and I wanted a fresh start without the baggage that came with constantly trying to rebuild a firm that had its run. It didn’t mean we weren’t family, it just meant that I needed something different. So stop stalling and tell me what happened between them, and don’t tell me nothing, because Rachel has not been up here once since this happened.”

“Fine.”

They went down to the cafeteria, where Harvey got them both a cup of substandard coffee, he was now used to, having spent most of his time inside the walls of the hospital waiting for Mike to wake.

“Mike and Rachel started having problems three years into their marriage. Rachel wanted kids and Mike wasn’t sure he was ready. But he gave in and they tried, and tried. And every time Rachel didn’t end up pregnant, things got worse. Six months ago, Rachel came up pregnant. It should have been the happiest time of their life. If anything, their relationship got worse. Then Mike found out that the baby Rachel is carrying is not his. In fact, the night she told him was the night…”

Harvey can figure out the rest. “Anything else I should know?”

“Not that I know of. For anything else, you’ll have to ask Mike.”

“Come on, Mike should be back from his tests by now.”

Harvey and Donna spent the next three days taking turns sitting at Mike’s bedside. Little by little, Mike started to regain some of his strength and improve. On day five, Mike tells him what his life has been like since Harvey’s been gone. The happy couple Harvey left behind, quickly faded into another sad story of two people who found themselves in a relationship they no longer wanted and regretted. In fact, according to Mike, he was ready to call it quits for good, when he found out Rachel was pregnant. Never one to walk away from his obligations, Mike chose to stay; that is until he found out the baby wasn’t his. According to Mike, he wasn’t sure if he was more angry or relieved in that truth. In the end it was anger that drove him to take to the streets that night. Mike took a deep breath then looked at Harvey, making sure to capture Harvey’s gaze.

“I missed you.”

Harvey honestly didn’t know what to say. Now that the worst of what had happened was behind Mike, feelings Harvey had locked away years ago were threatening to resurface. What did that mean, and what about Alex? Harvey walked away from Mike and New York to start over but here he was standing in front of the man he once loved more than anything and found himself…wanting.

“Mike, I missed you too.”

“So why haven’t I seen you in five years? You walked away and never looked back. I had to nearly die to get you to come back.”

“You know how it is. Life brings changes to us all. And besides, that interstate works both ways,” he chastises. “And as for you trying to die, don’t ever do that again.”

Mike looks away briefly, before speaking. “So when do you have to leave?” His voice is small, shy, as if afraid to hear the answer.

And isn’t that the real question? Mike is not the only person who has asked him that. Donna and Alex both have as well. The truth is he doesn’t know the answer. If Harvey leaves, he knows he won’t be able to come back. And if he stays, what then? Could he start a new life back here in New York? Or would he stand by and pine after Mike like he did once before? What about his life, his career, Alex?

***

The next five years go just as quickly for Harvey. His practice is thriving, he still loves living in California and he is happy. He is just about to leave for the day when his mobile goes off.

Do you know when you will be home? I’m thinking of making dinner.

Harvey smiles before answering. How about I come home now?

Perfect. I’ll see you soon. Love you.

Love you too, Mike.

***

Epilogue

Six months after the accident Donna was helping Mike pack up his apartment. Even though technically it was his, Mike didn’t want to spend another night in the house he thought he would be sharing with Rachel. Despite weeks of therapy and rehab, Mike still moved slower than he would like and tired easily. As he was finishing up what was left of the bedroom, he came across an envelope tucked away in one of his “memory” labeled boxes. Mike barely remembers putting it in there. He takes it out and reads it to himself. Not that he has to. Amazingly enough he still for the most part has an infallible memory- minus the night of the accident after getting behind the wheel of Rachel’s car. He could still hear Harvey’s voice as if it were yesterday.

“What ya got there?” Mike looks up to see Donna standing in the door frame.

“This?” He holds up the sheet of paper. “This is Harvey’s best man speech. He gave it to me as a joke, a reminder he called it. As if I could ever forget.”

“Hmm. I remember it well. Finding him the morning after your bachelor party asleep in his old office, surrounded by mangled sheets of paper. I had to clean up after him. Do you miss her?”

“Huh? What? You mean Rachel?”

Donna nods silently.

“No. Honestly, I can’t even remember why we ever got married.”

“Because you loved her? And don’t tell me you don’t remember, I’ve seen the powers of that brain of yours first hand,” she teases.

“Did I? Or was it just easier?” Mike looks away then, lost in thoughts he hasn’t allowed himself to think about since before the wedding.

Donna looks at him closely and takes in a deep breath before speaking. “Well, easy or not, what’s done is done. Right?”

“Yes, it’s definitely done- thank God.”

“Then I say it’s time to turn the page in your life. Starting with finishing up the task at hand. Get back to packing,” she jokes, effectively lightening the mood.

Mike packs up the last of his memories and walks out of the apartment without looking back. Two weeks later when he comes home from therapy he sees a package on his counter from Donna.

How did she…? Nevermind, he thinks.

Hey Puppy,

Since you kept Harvey’s speech I thought you might want to read the ones that didn’t make the cut. Just in case you are curious.

D~

Mike takes out the stack of crinkled papers and begins to read. Most of them have only a few sentences, some a couple of words, there’s even one that has the perfect outline from Harvey’s whiskey glass. But then Mike gets to one that is almost a page long. He takes that one out of the stack, grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and sits down to read it.

Mike,

I stand here before you. You and Rachel with pride in my soul and love in my heart. Who would’ve thought when you busted into my interviews, running from a past you wanted to leave behind, that you would become so important in my future? I can’t tell you how much you impressed me that day, knocking me off my feet with your ability to challenge me from the start. Playing hearts while I threw out law questions. You were young, cocksure and bold; you were exactly what I was looking for - the next me. And over the years, I watched you blossom and grow. Before long, instead of you trying to keep up with me, it was me trying to keep up with you. And truth be told, I never could. You were not just another me, you were the better version of me. One willing to not only succeed in the courtroom, but also in life, with friends, and family. You love with all that you are and you’re unafraid to go after what you really want- a trait I envy in more ways than one. Because if I were braver, stronger, I would have told you the truth. But that time has passed. And so now I sit here and tell myself I can no longer think about what could have been, I now need to focus on the next chapter of my life. A life that will no longer have you in it. I guess in some ways you are still playing hearts, while I continue to hide behind the fortress of law. I promise you, Mike, that next time I will do better. Next time, I will be more like you.

Mike doesn’t know when he started to cry. But he must have, since the paper in his hands now has several droplets of water staining the years old ink. Mike’s mind rapidly repeats the letter over and over trying to read the words not said and wondering if they could mean anything close to what he hopes they mean. Because if they do, if they did, then maybe there was still a chance to say the one thing he never did say in all the years he worked alongside Harvey. And maybe if he plays his cards right, and it’s not too late, he still can.

The first thing Mike does is reach for his phone and sends a text. Nothing momentous, just a question to see if there is any chance in hell for him to get the life he wanted the day he met Harvey Specter.

Hi Harvey,

I remember you telling me that the interstate worked both ways. I was wondering. Any chance I could use it and can come out for a visit?

Mike puts the phone down and finishes his water. After ten minutes he realizes he has not moved, his eyes have not left the table. He waits some more, glaring at the phone. “Come on, Specter,” he says to the empty room. “One way or another- just say something.”

It takes another 30 minutes for the phone to finally, finally chime that he has received a message. He quickly grabs it off the table and swipes open the screen.

Incoming message- from Harvey Specter

Mike takes a deep breath and opens up the message. It only contains one word.

Yes