#soon after that I went through all of the Underground in the Epilogue and honestly?

[buttercupshands]

I honestly can't believe it took me 7 years

[winterisakillerwrites]

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Eighteen

Chapter: 18/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: M

Author’s Notes/Warnings:  This is part nine of Last Minutes & Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff​ for listening to me ramble incessantly about  this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

And here we are the the last chapter (though we still technically have an epilogue after this…). I cannot believe its actually almost over. I want to give a major MAJOR shout out to @redfoxwritesstuff​ without whom this story would probably have ended up dead in the water. You have been a god send and I can never, ever thank you enough for letting me throw these ideas at you and for loving these idiots as much, if not more, than I do. And lastly, shout out to @tinchentitri​ who is directly responsible for how this chapter ends. Hope you all enjoy!

Previous

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Rosemary stared idly at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It was just after six in the evening and she found herself wondering, again, if Tom had made it safely back home. She found herself staring longingly at her phone, wanting desperately to call him just to make sure for herself that all was well. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. He promised her he would call when he was settled and she had no right to rush him. She knew all too well how drained he must be, she’d seen for herself how hard he pushed on these things in the past (she sincerely doubted much had changed in the intervening years), and the last thing he needed was her invading on his chance to unwind; to settle back into his skin. To get back to himself.

 But god, she was so sorely tempted.

 A frustrated sigh fell from her lips and she tossed her phone across the couch. Looking at it was doing absolutely nothing to settle her nerves. She ran a hand through her hair, blowing the strands that had fallen out of the ponytail she’d pulled it into that morning from her forehead. Sitting here and fretting isn’t exactly helping either, she mused wryly. She wasn’t sure what to do but she was certain if she didn’t do something she would surely lose her mind. She snorted a laugh. Not that you’ve got much left to lose.

 With a sigh of resignation, Rosemary reached for the remote which sat on the edge of the coffee table. As distractions went, television wasn’t exactly the best but it was at least something. And with the way she was feeling, she would gladly take whatever she could get. Several tours around the stations and she finally settled on a comedy program. What it was called or was happening on her screen she couldn’t say with any degree of accuracy; the program wasn’t one she really needed to follow with any true attentiveness. But it was a distraction nonetheless and she was glad for it. Settling herself further into the couch, Rosemary forced herself to relax and stare at the screen. Soon she was laughing along with the audience though she still hadn’t a clue what was actually happening.

 She jumped as a rhythmic knock sounded on her door twenty minutes later. Confusion crossed her features as she pushed herself off the couch and to her feet. She hadn’t been expecting anyone. Jules was out with Nick, Hanna was at the store, and she hadn’t made plans with anyone that she could remember. But with the way her mind had been lately... She shook her head, clearing her thoughts forcing herself to plaster on a smile to greet whomever it was who demanded her attention. She crossed the living room in several quick strides; undoing the bolt and pulling open the door in one fluid motion. She blinked several times at the figure standing in the hall, not quite believing her eyes as recognition slowly began to dawn.

 Tom stood in the doorway silhouetted by the dim light of the hallway, hands tucked firmly in the pockets of his dark jeans, uncertainty and unease painting his features. She breathed his name, relief and joy at the sight of him flooding through her. “I didn’t expect…I thought you said you were going to call first! Please tell me you didn’t come straight here from Heathrow.” It all came out in a breathless jumble and she winced at her own nervous eagerness. He looked exhausted; dark circles sat under his eyes, his hair roughly mused, and his clothing rumpled with wear. She doubted he’d slept much on the plane home. And if he’d rushed straight here…

 He shook his head. “No, I stopped by the house first and dropped off my bags. I didn’t want to drag them on the underground; learned my lesson well with that one.” He paused, a soft laugh on his lips, and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Sorry I didn’t call. I know I should have…”

 “Its fine,” Rosemary blurted out, in an effort to stop his nervous rambling. She cringed, it had come out far louder and shorter than she’d intended. She took a deep breath before continuing. “Honestly, Tom, it’s fine. Please, come in.” She stood to the side and ushered him inside. He offered her a small smile and the first threads of unease crept through her. The smile hadn’t reached his eyes.

 Half way through the door, Tom froze. She couldn’t read the expression on his face as his eyes locked on something ahead of him. Silently, she followed his gaze but couldn’t think what could have caught his attention in such a fashion. The room wasn’t as clean as she’d like; a few bits and bobs tossed along the backs of the couch and surrounding chairs, several books lay haphazardly on the coffee table, and several pairs of shoes loitered by the door. But look as she might, there wasn’t anything she could see that would put him so obviously on edge.

 “Tom?” she asked, quietly, afraid if she spoke too loudly he would spook and run. If he’d heard her speak his name he certainly didn’t acknowledge it. She spoke it again, slightly louder this time, and saw him jump slightly at the sound. His eyes locked briefly with hers, confusion and pain in them that she didn’t understand. “Tom what’s…?”

 “I’m too late, aren’t I?” The words were spoken so quietly that she had to strain to hear them.

 “What?” She breathed in confusion.

 Tom spoke again, voice noticeably louder but still shaky. “I…I’m too late.” He cleared his throat, hands now clenched at his sides. “I...I’m sorry, I should have called first. I just hoped…” He ran a hand through his hair once more, staring pointedly at the ground as he tried to gather himself. “Am I too late?” He asked again, voice gone soft once more, pleading and desperate.

 She stared at him, dumbly. Too late? His words echoed in her mind. Too late for what? None of this was making any sort of sense. “Tom, what are you talking about?”

 He walked quietly into her flat, pausing before the back of one of the chairs. Gently, he picked up the jacket that had been lying haphazardly across it, holding it tightly in his hand. He turned it over once. Twice. A cold dread settled in her stomach as she recognized it; Adam’s jacket. His eyes rose to hers, his expression unreadable. “I know I’m the farthest thing from a safe bet and that I’ve hurt you far more than I can ever, ever begin to remedy,” He paused, staring down briefly at the jacket in his hands before raising them once more. “And I know you and Adam have a history, that he is good for you; probably far better than I ever could be. But I have to try. I would never be able to live with myself if I didn’t try. Please tell me it’s not too late for me to try.”

 “Tom…” His name falls from her lips in a quiet whisper of confusion and she watched as he stood, shifting his weight slowly from foot to foot. She didn’t know what to say, couldn’t seem to begin to process just what was happening.

 After several agonizing moments, she watched as an unreadable emotion crept slowly across his face, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. She saw his hands clench tightly at his side, the jacket falling from them into a heap on the floor, before he roughly shoved them into his pockets. His eyes rose to hers, determination shining in them. He took two cautious steps towards her. “Please,” he whispered, pulling his hand up to touch her face. “Please tell me it’s not too late.” She leaned unconsciously into his touch, reveling in the warmth of his fingertips against her skin. “Please. Pick me. Choose me. Love me.”

 His lips pressed gently to hers. It was a slow, quiet, undemanding gesture; a simple plea for understanding. She felt herself melt into him, her mouth opening to his. A quick gasp slipped from her throat as he deepened the kiss, his hand tangling slowly in her hair, holding her to him. And just as quickly as it started, Tom pulled away. His eyes searched hers as she stared at him wordlessly.

 “He left,” she breathed out, tilting her head to the jacket that had slipped from Tom’s hand to the floor. “Three days ago. He asked me to try again, told me that there was an opening at the office here that was his if he wanted it.”

 Tom pulled away, the unreadable expression back in his eyes. “When is he back?” The words were spoken simply, with no discernable emotion, but she could feel their intensity clearly.

 She shook her head violently. “He’s not,” she blurted, watching as he jumped at the fierceness of her tone. “At least I don’t think he is...” she trailed off, shaking her head. She raised her eyes back to his and took a steadying breath. “I told him no, Tom. He was wonderful and for a time what he and I had was wonderful, but it’s over now. It’s been over for a long while. If he had asked me a year ago, if he decided to stay then…I don’t know…But he’s not what I want. Not anymore.”

 Confusion was clearly painted across his features. He swallowed thickly several times. “I don’t understand.”

 Rosemary laughed despite herself, feeling the familiar burn of impending tears. She swallowed thickly and tried to put her thoughts into some form of coherency. “Tom, there isn’t a choice. There never has been.” She watched as the confusion darkened in his eyes and carried on, hoping to make him understand; to make him see. “And I think my heart always knew that. It just took a while for my stubborn brain to catch up.” She reached up and traced her finger along his stubbled jaw. “I love you. You may not be the smartest choice or the safest one, but you’re the only one I want to make.”

  “Are you…” Tom paused, swallowing several times before continuing. “Are you sure?” She could clearly see the hope lingering in his eyes, though it was tinged with a weariness and an uncertainty that broke her heart.

 She nodded. “Very much so.”

 He kissed her again in earnest and she laughed into his mouth. It was an imperfect kiss; more of a desperate press of mouths and the bite of teeth, but wonderful for all of its imperfection. Rosemary let herself melt into him, her arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. When they parted for air, she found herself staring into his eyes and basked in the warmth she found there. She would stay like this forever if she could.

 “I love you,” he whispered into her hair, pulling her tighter against him. She rested her head against his chest, relaxing against the steady thump of his heart against her ear. “I love you so much.”

 “I love you, too,” she echoed, wrapping her arms tighter around his waist.

 She felt rather than saw the powerful yawn that escaped him and found herself muffling her laughter into his chest. She pushed herself back enough to look once more into his face. Her fingertips traced the dark circles under his eyes. “You’re exhausted.”

 He laughed softly, eyes crinkling. “Just a bit,” he admitted, tracing random patterns on the skin of her arm. She shivered at the sensation. “It’s been a rough week.”

 Rosemary felt her insides clench at that. Whatever stresses he normally carried during such a run workwise she’d only added to with her own uncertainty. “I’m sorry.”

 Tom shook his head, “Don’t be. I’ve been running on fumes for the last few days or so, not your fault.” He reached up and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, smiling at her. She leaned once more into his touch. Another long yawn fell from his lips and she shook her head.

 Carefully, Rosemary turned and wrapped an arm around his waist, wordlessly guiding him towards the couch. He sat obligingly and pulled her down beside him, pressing her against his side once more. “Much better,” he mumbled into her hair.  

 “You need to sleep,” she scolded, gently, resting her head on his shoulder.

 He nodded against her and yawned again, this time not bothering to stifle it. “Probably.”

 Rosemary pulled back enough to study his tired profile. “Do you want to sleep here?” She watched him nod in response, eyes drifting closed. He scooted down on the couch, resting his head against its back and pulled her once more fully against his side. She sighed, “Tom that cannot be comfortable.”

 “Don’t care,” he mumbled, sleepily, pulling her tighter against him.

 She poked his side causing him to jerk reflexively and open his eyes. “You can’t sleep here Tom; you’ll kill your neck. I can barely sleep on this thing and I’m at least a foot shorter than you.” She poked him again as his eyes began to droop once more. “Come on, up you go.”

 “But I wanna stay here,” he murmured, a soft pout forming on his lips.

 She laughed and continued to poke at him, “The bed will be much comfier.”

 “Only if you’re in it.” The words were innocently spoken and she knew he was far too tired to mean anything by them but in the most literal of terms. They still sent a small thrill through her. Later, she told herself. There will be plenty of time for all of that later.

 “Up you go, Hiddleston,” she encouraged, pushing against the near dead weight of his arm. “Come on now.” She continued to poke and prod at him until he was at last on his feet.

 Leaning heavily against her, she led them both down the hall towards her bedroom. She grimaced slightly when she noticed she’d never bothered to make the bed that morning but quickly let the thought go. Somehow, she doubted he would care over much. She got him to the side of the bed and he sat down heavily.

 “Alright, shoes off.”

 He obediently toed off his grey boots. God, he really does wear them all the time.

 “Do you want to sleep in your jeans?” She fought the blush that spread across her cheeks at the question. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen him undressed. But it had been such a long time. Tom shook his head and fumbled with his belt and the button and zip of the jeans before lifting his hips enough to pull them down and off. Without further prompting he laid himself down, curling his feet up under the bedraggled covers. Satisfied that he was settled, Rosemary stood to head back into the living room. He was bone tired and the last thing she wanted to do was disturb his rest in any way. “Where’re you going?” she heard him mumbled from beneath the sheet he’d managed to pull up over himself.

 “Back to the living room,” she answered, honestly. He pulled the sheet down and looked her with pleading eyes. “You need to sleep, Tom.”

 “No. Stay. Please.” He sleepily patted the spot beside him. “Want you here with me.” His eyes were heavy lidded but she could clearly see the pleading in them.

 Knowing there was little she could do to dissuade him, Rosemary sighed and nodded. She padded to the dresser in the far corner and grabbed a tank top and a loose pair of sleep pants. If she was going to settle to bed then she might as well be comfortable. She heard Tom’s grunt of concern as she headed towards the bathroom to change. “I thought you were going to sleep with me.” She flushed once again at the words, knowing they were innocently spoken even as her mind wandered down much more sensual paths.

 She held up her sleep clothes, “I need to change. I’ll be right back. I promise.” He nodded and she padded into the bathroom. Changing quickly, Rosemary dropped her jeans and shirt in the hamper by the door and headed towards back towards her room and the bed. Carefully, she climbed over Tom’s prone form and settled onto the open space beside him. She smiled as his arms quickly snaked over her, pulling her against him. He nuzzled into her shoulder with a small sigh of contentment. She closed her own eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body pressed tightly against hers.

 As she lay in his arms she thought about everything that had happened. And all that they would need to talk about come morning. There were so many things between them that she knew they would have to address sooner rather than later. So much they still needed to talk about. But there was little that she could do about any of it at that time. And worrying over it wouldn’t help. She listened to his breathing slowly even out as sleep finally claimed him. Later, we’ll have time for all of that later. For now, she contented herself to enjoy the simple peace that was them just as they were. Her eyes slowly grew heavier as her own weariness took hold. She fought it for as long as she could, wanting to stay awake and listen to the slow and steady breathing that was proof positive that he was here with her. But weariness won out in the end, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into his embrace.

 Rosemary woke several hours later, the warmth of a solid, sleeping body behind her. Disorientation overwhelmed her and she fought to remember why the feel of a body behind her wasn’t cause for alarm. Tom, her tired brain provided after several uncertain moments. It’s Tom. In flashes the previous evening’s events flooded back. She loved him, he loved her. He was here with her and for now, all was well. She smiled at the memory and pressed herself tighter into his sleeping embrace. He was warm and safe and she could easily stay like this forever. Slowly though, her body reminded her just why she’d woken in the first place; bladder screaming loudly for relief. She sighed, knowing she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

 With great care, she maneuvered herself out of the tangle of Tom’s limbs, a feat as he had somehow managed to lock himself firmly around her in his sleep, and stumbled clumsily into the bathroom. She didn’t bother switching on the light, having every intention of climbing directly back into bed and eking out as much sleep as she possibly could. She washed her hands quickly once she’d finished, drying them absently on the towel hanging by the sink. She noted with a furrowed brow that her throat was scratchy with thirst. Water, she thought blearily.

 Still half asleep, Rosemary puttered down the hall and into the kitchen, not bothering to flip on the light. Feeling around, she managed to grope until her fingers brushed against the handle of the refrigerator, pulling it open and grabbing a bottle of water. She opened it and took several long swallows before recapping it and heading back down the hall towards the bedroom.

 She paused momentarily, leaning against the doorway to watch his still slumbering form. The sheet had fallen low on his hips and he’d managed to pull off his shirt sometime in the night. She admired his chest and shoulders appreciatively. He really was a beautifully formed man. Her gaze came next to his face, still and peaceful. Sleep had a gone a long way in smoothing out the lines of tension on his forehead and a small smile played on his closed lips. He looked so innocent, so peaceful.

 He’s yours. The thought brought a smile to her lips. Mine.

 She stood for several minutes more, simply watching him. God, he was truly stunning. A soft groan fell from his lips as he shifted once more. Rosemary saw his eyes flutter open and laughed softly at the confusion that seemed to swim in their sleepy blue depths. The sound caught Tom’s attention and his eyes rose to her. “Why’re you not in bed?” His voice was slightly slurred and roughened with sleep and it sent a shiver down her spine. Rosemary smiled softly at him and held up her bottle of water. Tom nodded and returned the smile before patting the empty space beside him. “Come back to bed. Need you.”

 Her heart fluttered at the words and she quickly moved to follow his direction. Bottle set with its cap tightly sealed on the bed stand, Rosemary climbed back into bed beside him. It took him mere moments to pull her tightly against him, his chin resting warmly on her shoulder.

 “Much better,” he breathed, placing an open mouthed kiss against her skin. A shiver ran through her and she could feel his soft laughter vibrating against the flesh of her shoulder. He raised his head to hers, leaning in to press his lips against her mouth. Rosemary sighed into the kiss, enjoying the sensations that coursed through her. Tom’s hand rose and he let his fingers trace the line of her jaw as he deepened the kiss; his tongue brushing against hers.

They both rolled so that Rosemary’s back was firmly against the mattress and Tom’s warm weight rested deliciously above her. She laughed warmly as they broke apart, waggling her eyebrows at him. He answered with a cock of his brow, pressing her more firmly into the mattress with his hips. A strangled groan fell from her lips as the hard length of his erection pressed against the juncture of her thighs. He kissed her soundly, tongue dancing with her own. She let her own hands wander up his back, her nails digging ever so gently into the skin of his back, her hips raising to meet his of their own accord. She needed friction, needed him desperately.

Tom chuckled against her lips, pulling back enough to study her face before moving down to suck the soft skin of her neck. Rosemary whimpered at the contact, her body arching up against his. His hips met hers with a shallow thrust, his own breath coming in pants against her throat. Wordlessly, he pulled back enough to get his hands between them, his fingers curling against the hem of her sleep tank. A quick tug and she sat up enough to allow him to pull it swiftly up and off. He smirked at her and tossed it over his shoulder, eyes darkening as they took in the sight of her bared chest, heaving as she worked to catch her breath.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, bending his head down to capture a nipple between his lips. Rosemary released a hiss of breath at the contact, her back arching into him. God, she had missed the feel of him against her; touching her, tasting her, teasing her. It had been far, far too long. Her hands tangled in his hair as he sucked and licked first one breast and then the other. Soft, needy whimpers and moans spilled from her lips which only seemed to spar him on.

 His hands roamed slowly from her sides, down the curve of her waist to settle on her hips, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her sleep pants and her knickers. He tugged gently and Rosemary obligingly lifted her hips, allowing him to pull the obstructing garments down and off. He moved then, trailing open mouthed kisses down her chest and onto the soft expanse of her stomach. She shivered as his tongue traced the line of her belly button before trailing ever lower.

 Rosemary felt herself tense in anticipation. His name fell from her lips in both plea and prayer as his lips brushed against her folds. “Oh god,” she breathed, her hips arching into his mouth. It had been far, far too long. Desire coiled tightly in her belly. Her fingers dug once more into his hair, holding him against her. Needing more. Higher and higher he worked her until she felt the pressure inside her burst in a blinding sensation of light and color. Her breathing came in sharp pants and she felt as if she were exploding into hundreds of tiny pieces.

 She came back to herself slowly, feeling the blood pounding in her ears and her heart thudding in her chest. His bright blue eyes locked on hers, hooded with deep seated desire. Wordlessly, he climbed up her body to kiss her deeply. She could feel his hips pressing into hers, skin to skin. He must have shed his boxers without her noticing. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “So much.” She opened her legs more fully to him, delighting as he settled himself more firmly between them.

 With a smooth, slow thrust he sheathed himself inside of her. Rosemary dropped her head back in pleasure at the delicious friction and fullness. Tom held himself there, fully seated inside her for several moments, his eyes closed, breath coming in gasping pants against the shell of her ear. She pulled back enough to study his face before raising her head up to claim his lips with her own, and thrust back against him. She needed him to move. A strangled groan erupted from his chest and he slowly began to rock his hips into her with determination. She squeezed around him, pulling a hiss from his lips. “More,” she breathed. She felt rather than heard his soft, rumbling laughter as he worked to oblige her request. Faster and faster he rocked his hips against hers. Pushing himself deeper. She could feel the tension in his back beneath her wandering hands; could feel the telltale burn of another orgasm low in her stomach, building with each strong thrust of his hips against her own.

 Her name fell from his lips like a prayer as his hips sped then faltered in their rhythm. Sped then faltered again. He was close and, god, so was she. Rosemary worked to meet him thrust for thrust, needing to feel him fall to pieces against her. Needing to join him. And suddenly the world contracted to a pinpoint; color and sound drowning out as wave after wave of pleasure overwhelmed her. She could vaguely feel the jerk of Tom’s hips against her and the shudder that ran through his body as his own release claimed him.

 She felt the warm weight of him pressing against her, his sweat dampened hair resting against her shoulder as his breathing slowed. “Thank you.” The words were whispered so softly that she’d had to strain to hear them.

 “I think I should be the one thanking you,” she answered in a breathless laugh.

 Tom pushed himself up on one arm, his eyes locking on hers, a small smile on his face. Rosemary found herself reaching out to trace the lines that etched around the corners of his eyes. “And you’re quite welcome,” he answered with a laugh of his own. “But that wasn’t what I meant.”

 Rosemary arched an eyebrow at him, a silent request for him to elaborate.

 “I love you,” he started, moving his other hand to brush away a lock of hair from her face before he leant down to kiss her once more. “Thank you for giving me a second chance to do so.”

 Next

[winterisakiller]

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Eighteen

Chapter: 18/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: M

Author’s Notes/Warnings: This is part nine of Last Minutes and Lost Evenings. 

And here we are the the last chapter (though we still technically have an epilogue after this...). I cannot believe its actually almost over. I want to give a major MAJOR shout out to @redfoxwritesstuff without whom this story would probably have ended up dead in the water. You have been a god send and I can never, ever thank you enough for letting me throw these ideas at you and for loving these idiots as much, if not more, than I do. And lastly, shout out to @tinchentitri who is directly responsible for how this chapter ends. Hope you all enjoy!

This story and its preceding one-shots can be also be found on AO3 under the username winterisakiller (sparkinside)

Tag List: @tinchentitri @noplacelikehome77 @theheartofpenelope

Previous Chapter

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 Rosemary stared idly at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It was just after six in the evening and she found herself wondering, again, if Tom had made it safely back home. She found herself staring longingly at her phone, wanting desperately to call him just to make sure for herself that all was well. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. He promised her he would call when he was settled and she had no right to rush him. She knew all too well how drained he must be, she’d seen for herself how hard he pushed on these things in the past (she sincerely doubted much had changed in the intervening years), and the last thing he needed was her invading on his chance to unwind; to settle back into his skin. To get back to himself.

 But god, she was so sorely tempted.

 A frustrated sigh fell from her lips and she tossed her phone across the couch. Looking at it was doing absolutely nothing to settle her nerves. She ran a hand through her hair, blowing the strands that had fallen out of the ponytail she’d pulled it into that morning from her forehead. Sitting here and fretting isn’t exactly helping either, she mused wryly. She wasn’t sure what to do but she was certain if she didn’t do something she would surely lose her mind. She snorted a laugh. Not that you’ve got much left to lose.

 With a sigh of resignation, Rosemary reached for the remote which sat on the edge of the coffee table. As distractions went, television wasn’t exactly the best but it was at least something. And with the way she was feeling, she would gladly take whatever she could get. Several tours around the stations and she finally settled on a comedy program. What it was called or was happening on her screen she couldn’t say with any degree of accuracy; the program wasn’t one she really needed to follow with any true attentiveness. But it was a distraction nonetheless and she was glad for it. Settling herself further into the couch, Rosemary forced herself to relax and stare at the screen. Soon she was laughing along with the audience though she still hadn’t a clue what was actually happening.

 She jumped as a rhythmic knock sounded on her door twenty minutes later. Confusion crossed her features as she pushed herself off the couch and to her feet. She hadn’t been expecting anyone. Jules was out with Nick, Hanna was at the store, and she hadn’t made plans with anyone that she could remember. But with the way her mind had been lately... She shook her head, clearing her thoughts forcing herself to plaster on a smile to greet whomever it was who demanded her attention. She crossed the living room in several quick strides; undoing the bolt and pulling open the door in one fluid motion. She blinked several times at the figure standing in the hall, not quite believing her eyes as recognition slowly began to dawn.

 Tom stood in the doorway silhouetted by the dim light of the hallway, hands tucked firmly in the pockets of his dark jeans, uncertainty and unease painting his features. She breathed his name, relief and joy at the sight of him flooding through her. “I didn’t expect…I thought you said you were going to call first! Please tell me you didn’t come straight here from Heathrow.” It all came out in a breathless jumble and she winced at her own nervous eagerness. He looked exhausted; dark circles sat under his eyes, his hair roughly mused, and his clothing rumpled with wear. She doubted he’d slept much on the plane home. And if he’d rushed straight here…

 He shook his head. “No, I stopped by the house first and dropped off my bags. I didn’t want to drag them on the underground; learned my lesson well with that one.” He paused, a soft laugh on his lips, and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Sorry I didn’t call. I know I should have…”

 “Its fine,” Rosemary blurted out, in an effort to stop his nervous rambling. She cringed, it had come out far louder and shorter than she’d intended. She took a deep breath before continuing. “Honestly, Tom, it’s fine. Please, come in.” She stood to the side and ushered him inside. He offered her a small smile and the first threads of unease crept through her. The smile hadn’t reached his eyes.

 Half way through the door, Tom froze. She couldn’t read the expression on his face as his eyes locked on something ahead of him. Silently, she followed his gaze but couldn’t think what could have caught his attention in such a fashion. The room wasn’t as clean as she’d like; a few bits and bobs tossed along the backs of the couch and surrounding chairs, several books lay haphazardly on the coffee table, and several pairs of shoes loitered by the door. But look as she might, there wasn’t anything she could see that would put him so obviously on edge.

 “Tom?” she asked, quietly, afraid if she spoke too loudly he would spook and run. If he’d heard her speak his name he certainly didn’t acknowledge it. She spoke it again, slightly louder this time, and saw him jump slightly at the sound. His eyes locked briefly with hers, confusion and pain in them that she didn’t understand. “Tom what’s…?”

 “I’m too late, aren’t I?” The words were spoken so quietly that she had to strain to hear them.

 “What?” She breathed in confusion.

 Tom spoke again, voice noticeably louder but still shaky. “I…I’m too late.” He cleared his throat, hands now clenched at his sides. “I...I’m sorry, I should have called first. I just hoped…” He ran a hand through his hair once more, staring pointedly at the ground as he tried to gather himself. “Am I too late?” He asked again, voice gone soft once more, pleading and desperate.

 She stared at him, dumbly. Too late? His words echoed in her mind. Too late for what? None of this was making any sort of sense. “Tom, what are you talking about?”

 He walked quietly into her flat, pausing before the back of one of the chairs. Gently, he picked up the jacket that had been lying haphazardly across it, holding it tightly in his hand. He turned it over once. Twice. A cold dread settled in her stomach as she recognized it; Adam’s jacket. His eyes rose to hers, his expression unreadable. “I know I’m the farthest thing from a safe bet and that I’ve hurt you far more than I can ever, ever begin to remedy,” He paused, staring down briefly at the jacket in his hands before raising them once more. “And I know you and Adam have a history, that he is good for you; probably far better than I ever could be. But I have to try. I would never be able to live with myself if I didn’t try. Please tell me it’s not too late for me to try.”

 “Tom…” His name falls from her lips in a quiet whisper of confusion and she watched as he stood, shifting his weight slowly from foot to foot. She didn’t know what to say, couldn’t seem to begin to process just what was happening.

 After several agonizing moments, she watched as an unreadable emotion crept slowly across his face, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. She saw his hands clench tightly at his side, the jacket falling from them into a heap on the floor, before he roughly shoved them into his pockets. His eyes rose to hers, determination shining in them. He took two cautious steps towards her. “Please,” he whispered, pulling his hand up to touch her face. “Please tell me it’s not too late.” She leaned unconsciously into his touch, reveling in the warmth of his fingertips against her skin. “Please. Pick me. Choose me. Love me.”

 His lips pressed gently to hers. It was a slow, quiet, undemanding gesture; a simple plea for understanding. She felt herself melt into him, her mouth opening to his. A quick gasp slipped from her throat as he deepened the kiss, his hand tangling slowly in her hair, holding her to him. And just as quickly as it started, Tom pulled away. His eyes searched hers as she stared at him wordlessly.

 “He left,” she breathed out, tilting her head to the jacket that had slipped from Tom’s hand to the floor. “Three days ago. He asked me to try again, told me that there was an opening at the office here that was his if he wanted it.”

 Tom pulled away, the unreadable expression back in his eyes. “When is he back?” The words were spoken simply, with no discernable emotion, but she could feel their intensity clearly.

 She shook her head violently. “He’s not,” she blurted, watching as he jumped at the fierceness of her tone. “At least I don’t think he is...” she trailed off, shaking her head. She raised her eyes back to his and took a steadying breath. “I told him no, Tom. He was wonderful and for a time what he and I had was wonderful, but it’s over now. It’s been over for a long while. If he had asked me a year ago, if he decided to stay then…I don’t know…But he’s not what I want. Not anymore.”

 Confusion was clearly painted across his features. He swallowed thickly several times. “I don’t understand.”

 Rosemary laughed despite herself, feeling the familiar burn of impending tears. She swallowed thickly and tried to put her thoughts into some form of coherency. “Tom, there isn’t a choice. There never has been.” She watched as the confusion darkened in his eyes and carried on, hoping to make him understand; to make him see. “And I think my heart always knew that. It just took a while for my stubborn brain to catch up.” She reached up and traced her finger along his stubbled jaw. “I love you. You may not be the smartest choice or the safest one, but you’re the only one I want to make.”

  “Are you…” Tom paused, swallowing several times before continuing. “Are you sure?” She could clearly see the hope lingering in his eyes, though it was tinged with a weariness and an uncertainty that broke her heart.

 She nodded. “Very much so.”

 He kissed her again in earnest and she laughed into his mouth. It was an imperfect kiss; more of a desperate press of mouths and the bite of teeth, but wonderful for all of its imperfection. Rosemary let herself melt into him, her arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. When they parted for air, she found herself staring into his eyes and basked in the warmth she found there. She would stay like this forever if she could.

 “I love you,” he whispered into her hair, pulling her tighter against him. She rested her head against his chest, relaxing against the steady thump of his heart against her ear. “I love you so much.”

 “I love you, too,” she echoed, wrapping her arms tighter around his waist.

 She felt rather than saw the powerful yawn that escaped him and found herself muffling her laughter into his chest. She pushed herself back enough to look once more into his face. Her fingertips traced the dark circles under his eyes. “You’re exhausted.”

 He laughed softly, eyes crinkling. “Just a bit,” he admitted, tracing random patterns on the skin of her arm. She shivered at the sensation. “It’s been a rough week.”

 Rosemary felt her insides clench at that. Whatever stresses he normally carried during such a run workwise she’d only added to with her own uncertainty. “I’m sorry.”

 Tom shook his head, “Don’t be. I’ve been running on fumes for the last few days or so, not your fault.” He reached up and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, smiling at her. She leaned once more into his touch. Another long yawn fell from his lips and she shook her head.

 Carefully, Rosemary turned and wrapped an arm around his waist, wordlessly guiding him towards the couch. He sat obligingly and pulled her down beside him, pressing her against his side once more. “Much better,” he mumbled into her hair.  

 “You need to sleep,” she scolded, gently, resting her head on his shoulder.

 He nodded against her and yawned again, this time not bothering to stifle it. “Probably.”

 Rosemary pulled back enough to study his tired profile. “Do you want to sleep here?” She watched him nod in response, eyes drifting closed. He scooted down on the couch, resting his head against its back and pulled her once more fully against his side. She sighed, “Tom that cannot be comfortable.”

 “Don’t care,” he mumbled, sleepily, pulling her tighter against him.

 She poked his side causing him to jerk reflexively and open his eyes. “You can’t sleep here Tom; you’ll kill your neck. I can barely sleep on this thing and I’m at least a foot shorter than you.” She poked him again as his eyes began to droop once more. “Come on, up you go.”

 “But I wanna stay here,” he murmured, a soft pout forming on his lips.

 She laughed and continued to poke at him, “The bed will be much comfier.”

 “Only if you’re in it.” The words were innocently spoken and she knew he was far too tired to mean anything by them but in the most literal of terms. They still sent a small thrill through her. Later, she told herself. There will be plenty of time for all of that later.

 “Up you go, Hiddleston,” she encouraged, pushing against the near dead weight of his arm. “Come on now.” She continued to poke and prod at him until he was at last on his feet.

 Leaning heavily against her, she led them both down the hall towards her bedroom. She grimaced slightly when she noticed she’d never bothered to make the bed that morning but quickly let the thought go. Somehow, she doubted he would care over much. She got him to the side of the bed and he sat down heavily.

 “Alright, shoes off.”

 He obediently toed off his grey boots. God, he really does wear them all the time.

 “Do you want to sleep in your jeans?” She fought the blush that spread across her cheeks at the question. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen him undressed. But it had been such a long time. Tom shook his head and fumbled with his belt and the button and zip of the jeans before lifting his hips enough to pull them down and off. Without further prompting he laid himself down, curling his feet up under the bedraggled covers. Satisfied that he was settled, Rosemary stood to head back into the living room. He was bone tired and the last thing she wanted to do was disturb his rest in any way. “Where’re you going?” she heard him mumbled from beneath the sheet he’d managed to pull up over himself.

 “Back to the living room,” she answered, honestly. He pulled the sheet down and looked her with pleading eyes. “You need to sleep, Tom.”

 “No. Stay. Please.” He sleepily patted the spot beside him. “Want you here with me.” His eyes were heavy lidded but she could clearly see the pleading in them.

 Knowing there was little she could do to dissuade him, Rosemary sighed and nodded. She padded to the dresser in the far corner and grabbed a tank top and a loose pair of sleep pants. If she was going to settle to bed then she might as well be comfortable. She heard Tom’s grunt of concern as she headed towards the bathroom to change. “I thought you were going to sleep with me.” She flushed once again at the words, knowing they were innocently spoken even as her mind wandered down much more sensual paths.

 She held up her sleep clothes, “I need to change. I’ll be right back. I promise.” He nodded and she padded into the bathroom. Changing quickly, Rosemary dropped her jeans and shirt in the hamper by the door and headed towards back towards her room and the bed. Carefully, she climbed over Tom’s prone form and settled onto the open space beside him. She smiled as his arms quickly snaked over her, pulling her against him. He nuzzled into her shoulder with a small sigh of contentment. She closed her own eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body pressed tightly against hers.

 As she lay in his arms she thought about everything that had happened. And all that they would need to talk about come morning. There were so many things between them that she knew they would have to address sooner rather than later. So much they still needed to talk about. But there was little that she could do about any of it at that time. And worrying over it wouldn’t help. She listened to his breathing slowly even out as sleep finally claimed him. Later, we’ll have time for all of that later. For now, she contented herself to enjoy the simple peace that was them just as they were. Her eyes slowly grew heavier as her own weariness took hold. She fought it for as long as she could, wanting to stay awake and listen to the slow and steady breathing that was proof positive that he was here with her. But weariness won out in the end, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into his embrace.

 Rosemary woke several hours later, the warmth of a solid, sleeping body behind her. Disorientation overwhelmed her and she fought to remember why the feel of a body behind her wasn’t cause for alarm. Tom, her tired brain provided after several uncertain moments. It’s Tom. In flashes the previous evening’s events flooded back. She loved him, he loved her. He was here with her and for now, all was well. She smiled at the memory and pressed herself tighter into his sleeping embrace. He was warm and safe and she could easily stay like this forever. Slowly though, her body reminded her just why she’d woken in the first place; bladder screaming loudly for relief. She sighed, knowing she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

 With great care, she maneuvered herself out of the tangle of Tom’s limbs, a feat as he had somehow managed to lock himself firmly around her in his sleep, and stumbled clumsily into the bathroom. She didn’t bother switching on the light, having every intention of climbing directly back into bed and eking out as much sleep as she possibly could. She washed her hands quickly once she’d finished, drying them absently on the towel hanging by the sink. She noted with a furrowed brow that her throat was scratchy with thirst. Water, she thought blearily.

 Still half asleep, Rosemary puttered down the hall and into the kitchen, not bothering to flip on the light. Feeling around, she managed to grope until her fingers brushed against the handle of the refrigerator, pulling it open and grabbing a bottle of water. She opened it and took several long swallows before recapping it and heading back down the hall towards the bedroom.

 She paused momentarily, leaning against the doorway to watch his still slumbering form. The sheet had fallen low on his hips and he’d managed to pull off his shirt sometime in the night. She admired his chest and shoulders appreciatively. He really was a beautifully formed man. Her gaze came next to his face, still and peaceful. Sleep had a gone a long way in smoothing out the lines of tension on his forehead and a small smile played on his closed lips. He looked so innocent, so peaceful.

 He’s yours. The thought brought a smile to her lips. Mine.

 She stood for several minutes more, simply watching him. God, he was truly stunning. A soft groan fell from his lips as he shifted once more. Rosemary saw his eyes flutter open and laughed softly at the confusion that seemed to swim in their sleepy blue depths. The sound caught Tom’s attention and his eyes rose to her. “Why’re you not in bed?” His voice was slightly slurred and roughened with sleep and it sent a shiver down her spine. Rosemary smiled softly at him and held up her bottle of water. Tom nodded and returned the smile before patting the empty space beside him. “Come back to bed. Need you.”

 Her heart fluttered at the words and she quickly moved to follow his direction. Bottle set with its cap tightly sealed on the bed stand, Rosemary climbed back into bed beside him. It took him mere moments to pull her tightly against him, his chin resting warmly on her shoulder.

 “Much better,” he breathed, placing an open mouthed kiss against her skin. A shiver ran through her and she could feel his soft laughter vibrating against the flesh of her shoulder. He raised his head to hers, leaning in to press his lips against her mouth. Rosemary sighed into the kiss, enjoying the sensations that coursed through her. Tom’s hand rose and he let his fingers trace the line of her jaw as he deepened the kiss; his tongue brushing against hers.

They both rolled so that Rosemary’s back was firmly against the mattress and Tom’s warm weight rested deliciously above her. She laughed warmly as they broke apart, waggling her eyebrows at him. He answered with a cock of his brow, pressing her more firmly into the mattress with his hips. A strangled groan fell from her lips as the hard length of his erection pressed against the juncture of her thighs. He kissed her soundly, tongue dancing with her own. She let her own hands wander up his back, her nails digging ever so gently into the skin of his back, her hips raising to meet his of their own accord. She needed friction, needed him desperately.

Tom chuckled against her lips, pulling back enough to study her face before moving down to suck the soft skin of her neck. Rosemary whimpered at the contact, her body arching up against his. His hips met hers with a shallow thrust, his own breath coming in pants against her throat. Wordlessly, he pulled back enough to get his hands between them, his fingers curling against the hem of her sleep tank. A quick tug and she sat up enough to allow him to pull it swiftly up and off. He smirked at her and tossed it over his shoulder, eyes darkening as they took in the sight of her bared chest, heaving as she worked to catch her breath.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, bending his head down to capture a nipple between his lips. Rosemary released a hiss of breath at the contact, her back arching into him. God, she had missed the feel of him against her; touching her, tasting her, teasing her. It had been far, far too long. Her hands tangled in his hair as he sucked and licked first one breast and then the other. Soft, needy whimpers and moans spilled from her lips which only seemed to spar him on.

 His hands roamed slowly from her sides, down the curve of her waist to settle on her hips, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her sleep pants and her knickers. He tugged gently and Rosemary obligingly lifted her hips, allowing him to pull the obstructing garments down and off. He moved then, trailing open mouthed kisses down her chest and onto the soft expanse of her stomach. She shivered as his tongue traced the line of her belly button before trailing ever lower.

 Rosemary felt herself tense in anticipation. His name fell from her lips in both plea and prayer as his lips brushed against her folds. “Oh god,” she breathed, her hips arching into his mouth. It had been far, far too long. Desire coiled tightly in her belly. Her fingers dug once more into his hair, holding him against her. Needing more. Higher and higher he worked her until she felt the pressure inside her burst in a blinding sensation of light and color. Her breathing came in sharp pants and she felt as if she were exploding into hundreds of tiny pieces.

 She came back to herself slowly, feeling the blood pounding in her ears and her heart thudding in her chest. His bright blue eyes locked on hers, hooded with deep seated desire. Wordlessly, he climbed up her body to kiss her deeply. She could feel his hips pressing into hers, skin to skin. He must have shed his boxers without her noticing. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “So much.” She opened her legs more fully to him, delighting as he settled himself more firmly between them.

 With a smooth, slow thrust he sheathed himself inside of her. Rosemary dropped her head back in pleasure at the delicious friction and fullness. Tom held himself there, fully seated inside her for several moments, his eyes closed, breath coming in gasping pants against the shell of her ear. She pulled back enough to study his face before raising her head up to claim his lips with her own, and thrust back against him. She needed him to move. A strangled groan erupted from his chest and he slowly began to rock his hips into her with determination. She squeezed around him, pulling a hiss from his lips. “More,” she breathed. She felt rather than heard his soft, rumbling laughter as he worked to oblige her request. Faster and faster he rocked his hips against hers. Pushing himself deeper. She could feel the tension in his back beneath her wandering hands; could feel the telltale burn of another orgasm low in her stomach, building with each strong thrust of his hips against her own.

 Her name fell from his lips like a prayer as his hips sped then faltered in their rhythm. Sped then faltered again. He was close and, god, so was she. Rosemary worked to meet him thrust for thrust, needing to feel him fall to pieces against her. Needing to join him. And suddenly the world contracted to a pinpoint; color and sound drowning out as wave after wave of pleasure overwhelmed her. She could vaguely feel the jerk of Tom’s hips against her and the shudder that ran through his body as his own release claimed him.

 She felt the warm weight of him pressing against her, his sweat dampened hair resting against her shoulder as his breathing slowed. “Thank you.” The words were whispered so softly that she’d had to strain to hear them.

 “I think I should be the one thanking you,” she answered in a breathless laugh.

 Tom pushed himself up on one arm, his eyes locking on hers, a small smile on his face. Rosemary found herself reaching out to trace the lines that etched around the corners of his eyes. “And you’re quite welcome,” he answered with a laugh of his own. “But that wasn’t what I meant.”

 Rosemary arched an eyebrow at him, a silent request for him to elaborate.

 “I love you,” he started, moving his other hand to brush away a lock of hair from her face before he leant down to kiss her once more. “Thank you for giving me a second chance to do so.”

Next Chapter

[archworks-gaming]

So, I’ve been playing Fallout 4 again recently.

Because whilst the story is kind of ham-fisted and unimaginative the raw appeal of being a lone-wandering scrap hunter/robot maker is too strong for my frail human brain to ignore.

So from that you can likely gather I don’t really enjoy the story. To be more concise I don’t enjoy the main story.

Y’see, I’m the kind of gamer that will ignore the story at all costs. Not on a first playthrough mind, but for all subsequent playthroughs? That story might as well not even exist to me. Specifically with western-style, open-world RPGs.

It’s the same reason I recently got my hands on the remastered Skyrim, but you won’t see many story trophies/achievements appear under that title for me, because I haven’t done anything story-related. I’ve played the story already, it was... OK at best. Now I want to build a character and have their journey.

To get back onto Fallout 4, something that really stood out to me during a recent session was when I went to Diamond City to do an intro quest for Piper.

I forget the name of the quest, but it requires your character to be interviewed for the Publick Occurrences newspaper.

And for the most part the game will allow you to make up stuff during this interview. And generally just let you get away with whatever you want to say. (Well, out of the four options it gives you per question anyway)

But then you get to one of the final questions. Which is in regards to why you’re travelling across the Commonwealth, why you’ve wound up in Diamond City. 

And the game gives you options for this, but only one of them actually does anything.

And that’s super disappointing. This isn’t a story critical conversation. I’m not going to lose anything by choosing the wrong answer. No matter what I say, Piper will publish it and then become a companion.

But for some reason at this point in the sidequest, Bethesda thought it would be best to force the player to pretend they give a shit about Baby Shaun.

I don’t feel like I’m alone when I say I couldn’t care less about Shaun in Fallout 4. And in fact the majority of the problems I have with Fallout 4′s story are directly related to Shaun.

“Oh but you have to feel attached to him because... He’s your baby, I guess?”

No. No I don’t. Because he’s not my baby, he’s a baby. Even without the gamer/game disconnect or the 1′s and 0′s argument, by this point in the game I had spent a grand total of about 30 seconds with him before he was taken.

We had one interaction with baby Shaun in the opening part of the game where we tickle him a little bit and that’s it.

That’s our full backstory with Baby Shaun. As a player I couldn’t be less engaged with this “character”. I’d spent more time telling the Vault Tech sales rep to piss off than I had actually interacting with what is supposed to be my son in Fallout 4.

I’ve grown attached to settlers more than I have with Shaun.

But for some reason, whenever my character is showing any kind of empathy towards another survivor in the Commonwealth the first words they’ll usually utter are:

“I know what it’s like to lose a child...”

Hey asshole, we’re in a post-nuclear apocalyptic wasteland! There are literal fucking monsters outside that like to eat us and use our bones for decorations! Safe to say pretty much everyone knows what it’s like to lose someone!

And the thing is, for the most part your character will always go straight to “MY BABY WAS KIDNAPPED!” and never the more understandable: 

“MY HUSBAND/WIFE WAS SHOT IN THE FACE WHILE I WAS TRAPPED IN A METAL BOX MERE FEET AWAY WHERE I COULD SEE EVERYTHING! ALSO HELLO! I WAS ALIVE BEFORE THE WAR, EVERYONE I EVER KNEW OR LOVED IS MOST LIKELY DEAD!”

It’s amazing to me how little of a deal it is that you are a pre-war survivor in this game. The only time to my memory where the character openly states that they gave any kind of a shit about the pre-war world is in the epilogue.

Hell, most of the characters you talk to about this to either understandably don’t believe you, Believe you outright with no proof and honestly don’t react to it all that much or they knew you already.

And I feel that’s one of Bethesda’s greatest missteps in creating the story for Fallout 4.  We as the player have no reason to care about anything prior to what is happening right now in the wasteland. But are expected to regardless.

Even the player character doesn’t care enough about the world they were forced to leave behind because we and by extension they spent almost the entirety of it standing in front of a fucking mirror!

I personally pre-made my character’s appearance to look like they already lived in the wasteland, scars, bruises, that kind of stuff. And then they have to dawdle around in the pre-war section looking like their spouse says “I love you” with a hunting knife?!

This is the first time in a Fallout game where we’ve had even a glimpse of the pre-war world, let us have some fun with it! Let us have a reason to give a shit about it and not frantically mash buttons and jump hedges to get out of it.

If we’d gotten some sense of what the world, pre-war was like. If we’d been introduced to baby Shaun and given some actual time to interact with him, maybe even see him grow up a little bit because the next time you actually see “Shaun” he’s like 9-10 years old.

That section when you first enter the institute and are confronted by a Synth of Kid Shaun, that would have had so much more impact if that was what Shaun looked like when he was taken.

instead you’re yet again, FORCED to have your character lose all semblance of sense at the mere sight of a robotic ten year old. There’s no option for disbelief when you find Synth Shaun in the institute, despite the fact that your character is knowingly infiltrating the place where fucking synths come from!

Beyond that, Father’s devotion to the Institute would be so much more meaningful if he was old enough to take it all in when he was taken, instead of being basically tailored from birth to accept it.

It would make sense for an adult Shaun to release you from your cryo-pod at the start of the game if he was old enough to even remember you when he was taken, instead of this whole “Oh, I let my parent out on a whim, just to see how far they’d get” bullshit the game actually gives us!

And then there’s the games core “twist”...

“Oh no! my 1 year old son was taken whilst I was frozen, I should go looking for him with the expectation that despite being re-frozen after he was taken that he will still be a 1 year old baby!”

“Oh no! I have found my son and now he’s older than me and somehow dying of cancer in a future underground science utopia where they literally build human beings from scratch!”

... I’m not the only one who’d guessed that Shaun was going to be either long dead or an old man at the very beginning of the game, was I? It was just that blatantly obvious, wasn’t it?

I feel I would have been more satisfied if when you wake up in the pod after Shaun’s been taken, that Father had come to personally wake you up.

With cancer threatening his life they’d need a genetic back-up for the synth experiments and you’re the closest match. So out a sense of familial-fueled curiosity he accompanies the recovery team, but you manage to fight back and escape and you build up kind of an antagonist viewpoint of “Father” up until the moment you meet him in the institute, where he reveals he’s Shaun. Boom! Story twist.

It’s probably just as easy to see coming, but hell if it isn’t more engaging.

Maybe the reason Father has cancer in the first place could be because he tried to get out of the institute at a younger age and he got irradiated trying to find you? Then when he’s leader of the whole place he finally has the clout to force people to take him to you.

And with that kind of approach, when you possibly decide to take down the Institute his sense of betrayal towards you will feel a fuckload less hollow!

“Oh mother! I can’t believe you’re against the institute, especially since all they did was murder your husband, my father and kidnap me, putting you through almost literal hell trying to find me, only to find that they’ve robbed us of any meaningful time we were ever going to spend together, just so they can built robots that can more effectively kidnap and replace other people’s family... I thought more of you!”

And it’s fucking bullshit! You can’t even convince him that he’s wrong!? What kind of shit is this? I get that not everyone who’s committed horrible acts for “Good intentions” can accept that their actions were horrible. Some terrible people die safe in the personal knowledge that they’re probably not monsters.

But they are. And in the case of Shaun, this is a fucking videogame. A place where I as the gamer, the one in control, should have some sway in the matter.

Up until this point there has been an option to change everyone’s minds.

Fuck, I talked an armed chem dealer into not only leaving a place empty-handed but to also give me all his money before doing so. And he’s a chem dealer on the surface, he’s probably legitimately crazy.

So the apparent lack of any option to reason Shaun over to your way of thinking is baffling, since he’s so enamored with you that he actually names you his successor as leader of the institute (Which is another problem entirely).

If he values you and likely what you think so much why is there no option to persuade him to re-think his position? It’s mind-boggling!

To touch some more on the point I just made about how you can become the leader of the Institute, Why is there no active “good” option for this?

Why is it I can be named the Successor to the head-seat of the Institute but I’m not allowed to take this information to say... The Railroad and let them know that as soon the current leader is gone that I control the place where Synths come from.

Or take it to the Minutemen and tell them that in a little while Synth’s probably won’t be a problem and in fact might even serve as pretty good servicemen for the Minutemen (Especially the Gen 1 and 2′s).

Or I could go to the Brotherhood where I’d undoubtedly be shot on sight for saying I control the Institute.

Why can’t I choose to continue Synth production, but refuse to continue the abduction and replacement of humans on the surface?

Or why can’t I opt to halt Synth production to focus on things that can make surface life better? Like more effective water purification? Or something that can clean radiation from soil? Hell, even just make prosthetic limbs or organ replacements?

Admittedly, I’ve never seen fit to actually take the Institute option at the end. Even so, there’s a whole load of potential good that can be done with the place and for all my searching I can’t find a shred of evidence to suggest that any of it is actually possible... So far as I’ve seen the only difference you get in siding with them is that Synth’s take up control points on the surface and talk about how they control everything now.

In summary, the story is the weakest part of the whole Fallout 4 experience and it’s all Shaun’s fault.