#they can absolutely take their time to finish the game; I’ve been well aware it’ll be in early access for at Least the rest of the year

[oracleofsecrets]

~40 hours and ~45 runs and I’ve hit the second plot/progress wall in hades 2 😔

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

hii,can I request the brothers (or juts Mammon & Satan) with a chubby MC who is very self aware of her weight so she gets extremely nervous when they hug her or touch a part of her body that she doesn't specifically likes?

If you can make this,thank you so much♥

Brothers With A Chubby GN!MC (Headcanons)

Lucifer

It had been a long day for him, meeting with Lord Diavolo always tired him out and coming home to you was always the highlight of his day. As soon as he saw you it was like a massive weight lifted off his shoulders, a fresh breath of relief.

His arms wrapped around you from behind as you stood at the bathroom sink, just having finished your nightly routine so you could climb into bed. He felt you slightly stiffen at his touch, a reaction that you always had whenever he hugged you, a reaction that he didn’t quite understand. His eyes watched your own in the mirror, following them down to where his hands laid on your body. You didn’t have to say anything for him to understand now, although he didn’t understand why it would make you react the way you did. He never understood the human realms standards for beauty or attractiveness.

He kissed along your neck, loosening his arms to glide his hands along your body, his eyes focusing on your face in the mirror. “You’re absolutely perfect, darling. I don’t want you to forget that. I adore everything about you.”

Mammon

He often did sneaky hugs, running up behind you and shaking his arms around you. He always held onto you so long, resting his chin on your shoulder and swaying side to side, just genuinely enjoying being able to hold you.

He was also absolutely oblivious to how nervous it made you, how self conscious you felt when he had you that close to him. This time was just a little worse though, his hands roaming a little more than they usually did, and you grabbed his hands, quickly pulling them off of you as you stepped away from him, laughing nervously.

“What’sa matter? Ya don’t wanna hug from The Great Mammon?” He noticed you covering yourself, wrapping your arms around your stomach, trying to hide yourself. “Oi, why’re ya hiding’ yerself from me?”

You’ll have to explain to him a couple times because honestly, he just doesn’t get it. You’re clearly the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes on, and he doesn’t understand why you can’t see that as well.

“There ain’t nuthin wrong with ya! Yer hot…” Now he’s a little nervous because he’s not used to being that forward with you, but he’s doing his best and he doesn’t want you to feel bad about yourself ever, so if he has to keep awkwardly telling you how attractive you are to him, he’s gonna do it. “Yer my human, I been chasin after ya since ya got down here… Ain’t nuthin gonna change that.”

Leviathan

You always sat between his legs while he was gaming, his arms wrapped loosely around you or resting on your lap as he held the controller. He would feel you nervously shuffle, trying to make it so that his hands never actually touched you, but he just assumed that you needed to stretch out or that maybe that your legs fell asleep. It was to be expected, especially since he usually games in five hour sessions.

After a while, he started to realize though that you only ever did the little shuffle when his hands were laid on your thighs, or if his arms were wrapped a little too snuggly around you. It made him self conscious, and while he didn’t want you to think it bothered him, even though it did, he wanted to know what was wrong.

“D-Do you not want me to touch you?” It was inevitable that he’d catch on at some point, but you hadn’t planned what you were going to say once he did. It felt weird to talk about these things, especially with the guy that you loved. You didn’t want him to look at you differently, it was embarrassing.

You finally got the courage to tell him how you felt and what the real problem was. He actually looked hurt that you felt that way about yourself. He tossed his controller to the side, holding you tightly against him as he buried his face in your neck. “Please don’t feel that way… y-you’re so cute… I-I like holding you like this… I like you… n-no matter what…”

Satan

He was intuitive, he could read you like a book. That was both a pro and a con of dating him, you could never keep things a surprise or a secret from him, he just knew too much.

He walked into your room, standing just out of sight as you looked over yourself in the mirror. He knew exactly what you were doing, running your hands over your body, your lips turned down into a pout as you did. He hated seeing you judge yourself, and he knew that in your mind you were picking yourself apart, mentally pointing out what you believed to be flaws, but all he saw was a gorgeous human, his gorgeous human.

“Look how beautiful you are…” He murmured from the doorway, finally catching your attention. You quickly turned around, but he was already there, standing in front of you. His smile was soft, sweet and adoring as he looked you over. “My beautiful kitten. Look at you…” He turned you around, facing you towards the mirror as he traced his fingers lightly over your body.

“You know, some people think even the most beautiful things aren’t that… but it shouldn’t matter what other people think. What you think is the most important… and as long as you don’t see the beauty in yourself, you’ll never be happy… but…” He turned you back around, tilting your head up with his finger under your chin, leaning in closer and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “If you need help finding your beauty, I’ll gladly show you, every single day… because I see it everywhere with you.”

Asmodeus

Shopping was something that you did often with Asmo, it was a weekly routine and something you both looked forward to once Saturday rolled around. This time was different though, and you were feeling… down about yourself lately. The good thing about Asmo was that he was usually so focused on himself that he didn’t really notice that change in your demeanor, not until you got to the store at least.

“Oh! Look at this! It’ll look lovely on you! Try it on for me, I want to see you in it!” He was always like this. He wasn’t just your boyfriend, he was also your personal stylist, picking clothes, shoes, and accessories that he knew would be great on you. Usually the clothes he picked made you feel sexy, hot, attractive, but as you looked at the outfit he picked out for you it almost made you cringe. It was tightly fitting, that much you could see just from him holding it up. You hadn’t even put it on yet and you were already embarrassed. “What’s wrong, love? Don’t worry, no one else will see you in it. I’ll go into the dressing room with you!” That just made you feel worse, your eyes widening at his suggestion as you quickly shook your head.

The dressing room was filled with mirrors on each side, you couldn’t escape your reflection even if you wanted to. You didn’t want to look at yourself, it just made you feel more self conscious, you hated it. There was nothing wrong with the outfit, nothing at all, the main problem, at least to you, is that you were in it. “Is everything alright in there?” His voice came from right outside the door and you wanted to crawl under a rock and hide there, but you couldn’t, and Asmo was going to come in soon if you weren’t coming out, so you might as well show him.

“Ahhh! Look at you! Perfection!” He squealed as you stepped out, rushing over to you and wrapping his arms around you. “How did I get so lucky to find someone just as beautiful as I am?” He had felt you stiffen in his arms, and he took a step back, his face contorted with worry. “Did I hurt you?” You shook your head no, your voice barely a whisper as you told him what was wrong and he almost looked insulted when you told him. “I don’t think that at all… Don’t say that about yourself. You’re the most stunning human I’ve ever laid my eyes on! I’m not going to let you think any differently, so I’ll just tell you everyday starting now. Also, you look amazing in that outfit, and I’m definitely buying it for you for our date tonight!”

Beelzebub

He came home from the gym, sweat dripping from everywhere as he walked through the door. You were standing at the kitchen counter, making him something to eat, knowing he’d be more hungry than usual. It was always like that after he worked out, and you made sure to have something prepared for him when he’d come home so he didn’t have to raid the fridge.

“You’re the best, honey. Thank you.” He came into the kitchen, wrapping one arm around your waist as he stood to your side, leaning in to kiss the top of your head. You tensed up a little, and he quickly pulled his arm away, smiling sheepishly down at you. “Sorry… I know I’m all sweaty. I’ll go shower first.” Now you felt bad for making him think that it was his fault that you seemed disgusted. It wasn’t with him, it was with yourself, but you knew he wouldn’t understand if you told him. To Beel, you were as beautiful as an angel, and he didn’t even understand how he got lucky enough to have you. If he knew that you felt bad about yourself, it would upset him, and he’d immediately blame himself, somehow finding a reason that your feelings were his fault. He was already sprinting up the stairs to take a shower, giving you time to think of how to tell him how you felt without making him assume that he was somehow the cause for those feelings.

When he came back down the stairs he had a wide smile on his face, bounding over to you and pulling you into the tightest bear hug, picking you up and spinning you around, but he immediately noticed that you tensed up again. “I took a shower… Do I still stink?” He took a step back, and you quickly shook your head, taking a deep breath before telling him what was really wrong. His mouth fell open as he looked at you, really looked at you. “What do you mean? I don’t see anything wrong with you…” He was practically studying you, trying to find the “flaws” that you thought you had, but he legitimately couldn’t find any. In Beels eyes, you were flawless, and you couldn’t change his mind. “I love you no matter what. I love who you are, inside and out, everything about you.” He shrugged as if it was a simple thing, and to him it was. Loving you was as simple as taking a bite out of the sandwich you had made him. “There must be something wrong with the mirrors making you think that… Maybe I can be your mirror… I’ll tell you how wonderful you look! That’s a good idea, I’ll do that.”

Belphegor

Nighttime was his favorite time with you. He had you all to himself, his brothers weren’t constantly trying to get your attention, it was just you and him. It was perfect. He got to hold you close against him, just how he liked it. Tonight was no different, besides the fact that you didn’t want to be held by him, you didn’t want his arms around you, and you couldn’t seem to get far enough to the edge of the bed. It wasn’t anything against him, nothing at all, it was all you.

“Are you hot or something?” He asked from beside you, he sounded confused, which was reasonable. You were still wrapped in blankets, and honestly, you were freezing. It would be nice to have him hold you, he was always so warm, but you didn’t want him to touch you, you were feeling so self conscious, it was awful. You hummed in agreement, not expecting him to reach over and pull the blankets off of you himself before scooting closer and wrapping his arm around you anyway. “There, now you won’t get overheated.” He nestled into the crook of your neck and you could feel him smiling, but you were stiff as a board. “Are you alright?” He pulled back just enough to try to look at you even though it was dark.

You weren’t alright, but you didn’t even know how you’d tell him what the real problem was. There was no simple way to openly tell the person that you love all of your flaws, it was humiliating. There was the chance that once you brought them up, he wouldn’t be able to look at you the same, and you didn’t want to lose him because of that. “Hey. You’re not alright, you’re being too quiet… and you’re not even hot. You feel cold… What’s wrong?” You didn’t want to lie to him, and you didn’t want him to assume anything either.

You rolled over, pulling the blankets back up again to cover yourself before explaining everything to him. He was quiet for a bit before rolling you back over and wrapping his arm around you. “You’re funny…” He sighed, nuzzling back into your neck and kissing along it. “You really think I care about that kind of stuff? I don’t care about looks, and even if I did… You’re flawless.” He pushed himself up just enough to kiss your cheek before laying back down, sighing softly. “I love you… Now get some sleep.”

[leviiattacks]

Seven minutes in Heaven with Physics Major Levi

author note :: i lost the ask but anon i do not know what this is. reading it sounded better in my head but physics major levi with reader who likes him is that a good description???? HM ANYWAY enjoy it’s not too great i’ve been revising nonstop for exams but i might as well have finished this off for the anon who requested it :-)

word count :: 2.5k probably... hm who knows maybe 3k

when you and levi become friends it’s definitely unexpected to say the least. everyone is naturally very confused by the peculiar pairing. levi doesn’t really... go out of his way to befriend anyone really??? so for him to approach you in the middle of the library and start talking about how he noticed you shared a class together was out of the ordinary

the flow of the conversation is a little awkward at first, you’re revising for a final exam and don’t really appreciate the disruption but you’re not confident enough to tell him to leave.

at one point an awkward silence drifts between the two of you until he points out you’ve completely RUINED your notes and have been looking over the wrong lectures for the up and coming physics exam

later on into the night levi’s stood sighing next to you. he tells you to take your pick from the pot noodle section — “hey, i know we literally just met but i’m telling you a chicken pot noodle is gonna make you feel better.”

you’re so distraught that he has to pick it up for you and pay

and that is how you and levi become friends !!!

if it’s of any relevance yes you passed the final (all because of levi giving you his organised binder full of notes and telling you to make use of it)

you know it just sorta happens but through all of the all nighters you’ve pulled with levi by your side you become used to his presence nearby. in fact most of the the time it’s difficult to even find you anywhere without him. you’re both practically joined at the hip

levi’s pretty protective of you, hates the whole party scene but is willing to tag along if you’re going. at first you think it’s because he feels more comfortable stepping out of his comfort zone if you’re there with him but his intentions become more evident later on

any time someone makes you uncomfortable he’s by your side, if you happen to get into any sort of trouble he’s the person people call to help you because who else knows you the way levi does?

currently you and levi are at another party, you tend to keep to yourself and only ever talk to your close friends. it’s also not like you to partake in games, you’re far too nervous to play anything like seven minutes in heaven but for some reason you find yourself wanting to take part JUST this once

maybe it’s the fear of never making fun memories to tell your future children about

then again why on earth would you be telling your children about your experience kissing a random man in a closet??

either way, participating shouldn’t hurt!!! you’ve got to loosen up a little!!!

levi’s a little surprised you agree to play nevertheless he still sits next to you, the both of you have your legs crossed on the floor, your knees are touching and you aren’t sure if he feels the same warm sensation that you feel. it bubbles in the pit of your stomach – you feel oddly content

“levi!! anyone you want the bottle to land on ???” hange a mutual friend of yours leans in handing him the glass bottle

levi gives the bottle a disgusted look before his gaze flicks over to you.

“i’m only here because of y/n, i ‘m not playing.”

that doesn’t satisfy hange and they begin to groan complaining that he can’t stay unless he spins the bottle

“look you don’t have to do anything in the closet, okay??” hange’s begging him at this point, he’s still holding up pretty well and for some reason you’re disappointed. it’s almost like you hoped he’d spin the bottle just so it would land on you

levi takes notice of your frown and guesses you want him to be included, he isn’t one for games like these but if it’ll make you happy so be it. there’s still the chance it’ll land on you and his thought process falters for a second.

he thinks he really wouldn’t mind if the bottle landed on you and so he ends up nodding and agreeing to play.

anyway it’s not as if he isn’t guilty of imagining the two of you being a little more than friends

ok wait!!!! it’s completely innocent HE SWEARS!!!!

he’s never told you about it but sometimes he thinks if he was a little more straightforward that day at the library and asked for your number MAYBE just MAYBE his intentions would be clearer and he wouldn’t be stuck in the friend zone for this long

he should’ve used a stupid physics pick up line he knows you love those

something like – “i’m attracted to you more than an electron’s attracted to a proton.”

or maybe — “i’d fall for you even in the absence of gravity”

ok... maybe you wouldn’t have got that one considering you were revising the wrong content and probably forgot about that topic

he can’t imagine himself saying those things but if it would make you finally see him as a potential love interest and not a best friend he wouldn’t mind having to force it out

but still it’s not really a secret that levi has a soft spot for you, literally everyone can see it. when has he ever gone out of his way to save a seat for anyone? when has he ever willingly gone to a party? WHEN has levi actually let someone lay their head on his shoulder??

he only ever let’s you do that stuff

let’s actually discuss the head on his shoulder thing!!!

whenever finals approach you’re always sucked in by huge amounts of work and barely get to sleep, levi’s always hovering over your shoulder reminding you to catch a few hours but of course you don’t listen. you think you’ll be just fine if you rely on an energy drink and two hours of sleep to get by

but levi knows you better than you know yourself. it’s hour seven into the day and you’re already dozing off in your seat. slowly but gradually your head tilts forward. levi’s sitting across you contemplating whether or not he should prop your head back up like a nice friend would or if he should wait for you to smack your forehead right into the solid oak table.

he ends up making his decision last minute, your head flies towards the table and if it were anyone else he’d just let them jolt awake from the harsh impact but it’s you and his body won’t let him ignore you.

on reflex his hand flies out and in the matter of a split second he’s holding your head back. he’s surprised you haven’t woken up and he’s even more surprised he bothered to help you

before that happens levi knows he likes you, he knows he enjoys your company, he’s aware you make him happy but he thinks he’s willing to just be friends with you because clearly you don’t want to pursue anything.

you haven’t even flirted with him before aside from the witty “you remind me of an exothermic reaction” joke that you made one time

oh and there’s also the additional fact that you had a boyfriend up until quite recently so he’s sure you don’t see him romantically

honestly he’s fine with not dating you but something about seeing you overwork yourself like that has him simmering in anger. if he were your boyfriend he would have forced you into bed whether you liked it or not

if he were your boyfriend he’d never break up with you because he “found someone better.” he can’t even manage to imagine anyone better than you.

levi shuffles into the seat next to yours and places your head onto his shoulder. a few students shoot him questioning looks but the deadly glare he sends back is enough to deter them from coming any closer

it’s a little funny actually, by the time you wake up you’re rubbing at your eyes, you don’t even notice how close levi is to you until his hot breath fans across your neck. it seems like he’s dozed off whilst trying to make notes on fluid dynamics

wait

levi. right. next. to. your. neck.

should you move????

no, he might wake up he barely sleeps and you don’t want to mess up his schedule even more

that day you choose to drift off back to sleep as if you never woke up to his breath against your neck.

“OHHHH LEVI LANDED ON Y/N????”

your head shoots up NOW you’ve completely been dragged away from your thoughts.

“lucky for you both. guess you won’t have to do anything and stand there for seven minutes. told ya levi there was nothing to worry about B-)”

hange without warning pulls you both up by your arms, you’ve yet to see levi’s reaction, you’re too stunned to have noticed his slack jaw or wide eyes

“HAVE FUN!”

and with that said and done you and levi are shoved into the cleaning closet

“well, i’m glad it landed on you. i won’t have to do anything.” levi seems happy as can be, you don’t really know why but it stings a little

he doesn’t even seem to stop for a second to wonder if you’d maybe want to do anything

are you just not his type ????

hange once told you levi liked organised people and well,, you’re anything but organised. you’d probably pass out from the work load of your physics lectures if not for levi always helping you out

scowling to yourself you try to ignore just how awkward the situation is until levi plops down on the floor in front of you

“you okay?” he asks looking genuinely concerned

“i- yeah i’m good.”

your eyes dart away trying to look at anything but him. you can’t deny he looks good today, you actually helped him slick his hair back - the entire time he complained about the hair gel feeling weird but he looks great and now you can’t even stare at him for more than a second

“i’m guessing you’d have preferred if the bottle landed on someone else.”

leaning forward without even noticing it you aggressively deny what he says. “NO!!! i like being stuck here with you.”

levi looks stunned by your outburst but nods “oh, did you feel pressured to join the game? we can leave if you want—”

“no, no i– you aren’t– oh god i mean, look. i can explain– do i need to explain???”

completely choking up in front of him and sputtering before slamming your lips shut and saying absolutely nothing is probably one of the most awkward things you’ve done in your ENTIRE existence

levi reaches out for your knee, something that’s usually seen as him being friendly only feels intimate tonight. his thumb strokes comforting circles into your skin. the situation doesn’t make it any better, essentially you’re meant to be making out with him right now

“is something bothering you?”

there it is again. that look. he only seems more concerned than before and you hate yourself for not even thinking about your friendship before you open your mouth.

“do you not want to kiss me because we’re best friends or is it something else?”

there it is. you’ve said it.

you see levi’s face contort from a mix of confusion to what looks like disgust then shock. screwing your eyes shut you know you’ve ruined everything now. he’s never going to speak to you, never going to approach you again. you’re mentally preparing for him to ditch you at this party right here right now

but then you notice his hand still steadily placed on your knee, he’s now stopped with the circles, his grip is bruising

“do you want me to kiss you?”

his question isn’t really expected, it helps you find the courage to look your best friend in the eye.

it’s pretty dark but you can still make out the familiar shadows of his face. the butterflies rush up from your stomach all the way to your throat.

mild regret fills you, usually his curtains obscure his piercing gaze but the way you’ve styled his hair gives him a better view of you, there’s nowhere for you to hide

not even stopping to think about the possibility of him teasing you right now, all you care about is telling him the truth. you’ve come all the way here you may as well finish off what you’ve started

“would you be mad if i said i’d like it if you did?”

levi doesn’t need any more confirmation than that, he swoops in yanking you by your waist. his knees are still pressed against the floor and so you find yourself leaning down into his mouth and craning your neck downwards

his chest is completely pressed against yours. the drumming of your heart is so loud you feel self conscious but levi’s soft lips moving against yours distract you from that

not even ten seconds in and you feel out of breathe but not in an overwhelming way. levi’s pace isn’t at all what you imagined it to be like. he’s soft and slow yet calloused and rough around the edges, some how he still manages to make the kiss sweet

his left hand leisurely travels to the small of your back, the other hand now caresses your cheek. his fingertips are anything but soft but the way he handles you is tender and endearingly delicate.

you smile into the kiss and almost instantly levi’s lips tug upwards too. his take on seven minutes in heaven is quite easily the most romantic thing you’ve been subjected to. instead of a passionate make out you’ve been given a honeyed introduction to a new side of him

the kiss ends much quicker than you anticipate, you open your mouth to whine and convince levi that the two of you should still have a solid minute left before hange returns but he presses his index finger against your lips

“later. i promise.” his voice is heavy and if his blushed cheeks are anything to go by he’s thoroughly enjoyed your session together

at his reassurance you comply and take the time to have a better look at him

his lips are wet – some of your lip gloss has clearly stuck to him. his hair isn’t as well styled as it was before, seeing him like this makes you feel a surge of confidence. you know you did that to him.

so... what is someone to do with a sudden boost in confidence?

hit your new possible love interest with a pick up line :-) !!!

“heyyy so i know the spring constant of my mattress, would you be interested in taking some data with me?”

slapping your shoulder lightly he’s yet to gain his composure back, levi’s genuinely out of breathe now trying to steady himself and your comment doesn’t do him any favours that’s for sure

“my god you have no sham–”

without warning the door to your left swings open you and levi flinch trying to scramble away from eachother only to fail, hange marches in before stopping dead in their tracks.

all they see is levi knelt in front of you, hair disheveled huffing like his life depends on it

then their focus shifts to you, you’re sure some of your makeup has smudged and the entire scenario looks suspicious

levi seems as if he’s about to warn hange to not tell anyone and keep this a secret for now but they sprint away before any of you have the opportunity to ask for some privacy

not even ten seconds later a collision can be heard alongside a series of thuds and then hange’s yelling towards the end of the hallway “GUYS??? THEY ACTUALLY DID IT???”

for some reason the cheers coming from the living room warm your heart

you guess your friends figured out the direction of your relationship long before you and levi did :-)

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

if you’re 👀 taking requests 👀👀👀 can i request a Henry!Sherlock x reader where they’re competitive since they were very young, and she’s the only one who can match up to him? and there’s all this tension between them but neither one will ask about it because they’re afraid it’ll throw off whatever balance they have? if that’s confusing just lmk lmaoo sorry if it’s too boring to want to write

This got a little long soooooorry!! (Also got fluffy at the end hope you’re cool with that) also look at that lil blinking confused bean

“What did you do?” You hung your head as your mother bent down to inspect your dirty dress and scuffed knees. “...Sherlock and I had a race,” You mumbled. Your mother, huffed, standing and taking you by the hand, dragging you up to your room to clean you up. “I told you to stop competing with the Holmes boy!” She scolded. You were only seven; your mother didn’t begrudge you playing with the boys down the road, but this was getting out of hand. The week before, you’d come home with a ripped sleeve because you and Sherlock had challenged one another to see who could climb a tree the quickest. “...Did you beat him, at least?” Your mother asked. You turned a smile up at her, and she sighed. “Get changed, I’ll add that dress to the pile to be cleaned and mended.”

-- “...Check.” You groaned as Sherlock said so for the eighth time that game. “Couldn’t you two call it a bloody tie?” Mycroft asked boredly from the armchair he was lounging in not too far off. “No,” You said sharply. “What’s it matter to you?” Sherlock added, glancing back at Mycroft. It was rare that you had a chance to spend the afternoon with Sherlock, and it had surprised you that Mycroft had bothered to hang around. Mycroft didn’t answer, but you glanced up to see him roll his eyes. “It’s just a game,” Mycroft turned the page of his book. You turned back to the board. “Yes, it is...One that I am about to win. Checkmate,” You moved your Queen. Sherlock wasted no time in resetting the pieces on the board as he said, “Best two out of three.” “You two are ridiculous,” Mycroft groaned. At the age of sixteen, other men had already called you far kinder things than that, but you weren’t particularly worried about what Mycroft thought of you. You glanced up at Sherlock, watching him finish resetting your pieces. Sherlock never went out of his way to compliment you, but then, he didn’t call you ridiculous, either. 

--

“Must you?” You could hear Sherlock’s disinterest. And frankly, while you had no interest in your practicing the waltz, either, you had to. Now that you were eighteen, you would be presented to society soon. You let go of Mycroft’s hand and turned to where Sherlock was reading the paper. You folded your arms over your chest, raising a brow. “You’re only in a foul mood because you’re awful at it.” You thrilled at the irritated little twitch in the muscle of Sherlock’s jaw. “I’m perfectly skilled at the waltz, thank you,” He returned crisply. “I somehow doubt that.” The two of you stared one another down for a moment before Sherlock folded the paper and set it aside, standing. You heard Mycroft sigh heavily, “I’ll count,” behind you as he stepped to the side of the room. Sherlock bowed to you as you curtsied to him. You held one another’s gazes as he took hold of your hand and rested his hand on your back. You took hold of your skirt to keep it out of the way of your feet. The two of you glided around the room together, moving as one seamlessly. Neither of you missed a step; neither of you checked to see if the other’s feet were doing the right thing. After a certain point, you realized that Mycroft had stopped counting. You glanced over to where he’d been and realized that he’d left the room. In your distraction, you missed a step. You stumbled. Sherlock’s arm tightened around your waist, pressing you to his chest and keeping you upright. You looked up at him, swallowing thickly. “Are you alright?” He frowned. You were rarely this close to anyone, let alone Sherlock. Had his eyes always been that blue? “I-- Yes.” You stepped back, letting go of Sherlock’s hand. His hand fell away from your waist, brow furrowed as he watched you. You smoothed your hands over your skirt as you gathered yourself. “Your waltz skills are...Adequate,” You conceded. “Yours aren’t and you clearly need more practice,” He held his hand out to you. You scoffed, taking hold of his hand again. -- 

“Can you make a ring?” You asked, watching Sherlock puff his pipe. “A ring?” He repeated. You’d dropped in on Baker Street as you did often. It was the midst of your second London season and you’d managed to give your chaperon the slip. You held your hand out for his pipe, and he hesitated before passing it off to you. You took a pull from it before you tipped your head up, blowing a few smoke rings. “...How on earth did you learn how to do that?” You chuckled at his almost incredulous tone. “Picked it up at finishing school.” “Presumably outside of the classroom?” “Presumably,” You teased before taking another puff of the pipe. You felt Sherlock watching you, and you blew a few more rings before turning to meet Sherlock’s eyes. He was looking at your lips. You lowered your eyes, passing the pipe back to Sherlock. “You can’t do that, can you?” You added. You watched him take the pipe back, saw him take two puff before he blew a few rings. He then blew a line of smoke that seemed to go through one of them. You narrowed your eyes at his grin and held your hand out. “Give it back.” -- “You’re welcome, by the way.” “I did say ‘thank you’,” Sherlock grumbled. You chuckled at his tone. “I could’ve done it without you,” He added. “Mm, but you didn’t. You solved that case with my help,” You smiled before adding, “It’s your turn.” “I’m well aware of that, thank you. I’d have taken it by now if you would stop talking,” Sherlock said, leaning over the chessboard. “My, someone is testy about sharing credit, isn’t he,” You teased. “Not at all.” “Oh no? The great Sherlock Holmes is not ashamed to have to share credit with someone, let alone a woman?” “That has nothing to do with it,” He dismissed the notion, moving his knight. “What has you in such a mood, then?” You asked. When Sherlock didn’t answer, you glanced up at him, frowning when you saw him watching you. “...Sherlock?” You sat up straighter to get a better look at him. He didn’t answer your question, merely waved to the board and grumbled, “You’re taking too long.” -- “He’s awfully handsome, isn’t he?” You heard someone sigh behind you. You glanced in the direction of the rhetorical question, which had been met with a fair amount of giggling and fan-fluttering. It was true, of course. It wasn’t lost on you how attractive Sherlock had grown to be. What was lost on you was why he’d been in a perfectly foul mood for the last two weeks. The man had sworn up and down that it had absolutely nothing to do with the lead that you’d given him on his last case. You hadn’t brought it up again after that chess game, since he’d seemed so testy. And sure, you and Sherlock had always been a little more competitive and teasing than society thought friends ought to be, let alone a man and a woman, but that was just how the two of you were. Still, there was teasing, and then there was upset. Sherlock seemed upset, and you didn’t know why. You didn’t know how to fix it, either. He’d stopped calling on you as often, and while the two of you still wrote, his letters were much more to-the-point. It was frustrating. You’d come to care for Sherlock. You’d known how you’d felt about him for quite some time, and you were certain that he’d never return your feelings. You’d determined never to make them known, of course; he was your oldest and dearest friend, you cared for him more than almost anyone else in the world. Telling him how you felt could mean making things uncomfortable between the two of you, and losing him. Of course, now it seemed like you’d managed to do that, regardless. “He’s coming, sssh!” You heard behind you. It snapped you from your reverie and you raised your eyes to find that Sherlock was, in fact, striding across the room. You were familiar with the group of women behind you, and you found yourself wondering just who the object of Sherlock’s interest might be. There were quite a few sweet and clever ones in the group, women that could make Sherlock happy, that could-- But then he stopped in front of you, and dipped a bow, and held his hand out. “If I may have this dance?” He asked, smiling. But there was something different about this smile. It wasn’t one that you’d seen before, not a familiar and teasing pull of the lips. No, this was soft and warm, and his eyes were a little nervous. You felt yourself smile in turn, and you dipped a small curtsy, keeping your eyes on his. “It would be my pleasure, Mr. Holmes.” Where you’d once dreaded the waltz, you now reveled in it. Gliding in Sherlock’s arms felt easy. You moved together as effortlessly as you once did, keeping your eyes on his. “Sherlock?” “Yes?” “...Are you quite well? -- That is… You’ve been in such a mood, and…” His brows raised, amused, as you tried to find a delicate way to say what you were trying to say. “I was worried about you,” You added quietly. “It was not my intention to make you worry,” He gave your hand a small squeeze, “I apologize. I’ve been...Mulling over a few things.” “Such as?” “Such as… The components needed for a good partnership between two married persons.” “And what conclusion have you come to?”  “Shared values, trust, affection, respect… a strong foundation.” “A strong foundation?” You repeated, frowning. Sherlock’s steps slowed, then stilled as the waltz ended. He didn’t let go of your waist or your hand as he should’ve. “...A strong friendship, perhaps?” He ventured quietly. You felt your heart fluttering like one of the fans of the women watching you. “I see,” You said dazedly. “Have I missed the mark entirely?” He asked, lowering his hand from your waist. You grinned at him, feeling shy around him for the first time in your life. “Holmes, you astound me.”

[saladejin]

Body Pillow

Taehyung x Reader requested by anon (May) | 27.) First cuddle

Warnings: Literally fluff and gentle pining, drunken shenanigans 

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: This is poorly edited, oh god. 

I give up on trying to teach myself what a drabble is, because idk if I’ll ever understand what it means to write a DRABBLE. Anyway this is hella overdue but I’m still working on these cuddle prompts! Hope anonnie May is still around to read this horrible mess 🥺💕

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵  

<< prompt list >>

Wow, you were getting sleepy.

It was the alcohol, no doubt about it, but for some reason this time getting tipsy felt a little different. Usually you were quite reserved and withdrawn when mixing alcohol and social interactions, but tonight it was just you, your roommate Jimin and his close group of friends having a pizza night in.

Well, after half a year of getting to know them they'd fast become friends of yours as well, but they were still a pack of loud, goofy college boys that drove you mad with their testosterone stink 90% of the time. You really did have to take them in small doses to begin with, but all seven were amazingly driven people through and through. You loved them for it, and honestly sometimes you really just needed to be in their presence to relax and de-stress.

Like right now, actually. 

You were drunker than usual, and it all had to do with the fact that you were relaxed. Carefree and laughing up a storm with the boys as they joked and hollered over whatever video game or story was being played out. For the first time in a while ... you could simply chill.

Yeah, chill out. Not zone the hell out.

You blinked harshly, eyes coming back into focus as a hand waved in front of your face cautiously, and all of a sudden a handsome view leaned into your field of vision. "Hellooo? You're so fucked honey." Taehyung chuckled, eyes crinkling in amusement as he shared a glance with Yoongi behind him.

"I'm- no way," you huffed, trying to downplay the way your cheeks were heating up at his proximity by slapping his hand away.

"Okay, but you're getting there." Yoongi stepped forward and nudged Taehyung back to reach for your plastic cup. "We know you're not used to having this much so just slow down, alright?"

Any other day you would've been frustrated at how the two boys seemed to baby you, but it was clear by their smiles that they were also getting some enjoyment out of it. In all honesty, you were having a great time and you had to admit that ruining it all by blacking out or making a mess was the last thing you wanted to do.

You'd still only known them all for a few months, so you didn't want to somehow damage the already comfortable relationships you'd built in such a short time.

"Okay, you're right." You let Yoongi lift the drink away from you, trying not to smile when Taehyung lightly chuckled again at the way you swayed in your seat. The other boys were already getting loud once more as Jungkook overtook Jimin in Mario Kart, the whooping and shouts of anger mostly coming from the remaining onlookers, Hobi, Namjoon and Seokjin.

You grabbed another slice of pizza from the table and stepped around Taehyung to reclaim your spot next to Jimin, feeling the younger's eyes burn into your back the entire way.

~

Thankfully, Yoongi and Tae had forced you to take a break at the perfect moment, because you were really feeling buzzed now. It was an oddly euphoric sensation, feeling the world spin ever so slightly with laughter falling from your lips for barely any reason at all. Why hadn't you done this with them sooner?

"A package? Well it's not for me..."

Your eyes flew open upon hearing Jimin hum from the front door, lightly slurred tone curious and confused. The rest of you who were gathered in the living room fell quiet as the murmurs of conversation between him and the delivery man came to an end.

There’s a package at the door?

Then your brain cells finally kicked into gear, because oh … it was also your door.

"Wait, it's mine then." You shakily tried to put your glass of water on the table to get up, and Namjoon tutted in disapproval while darting out a hand to steady your drunk form as you rose. The faces of the other boys swam in your vision for a moment since you'd been sitting down for what felt like ages, and it was genuinely hard not to snort out a laugh at the sight of Jungkook having six eyes.

"What is it?" Jimin asked as he rounded the corner with a large plastic parcel in hand, his plump cheeks very pink from the liquor and blown out cutely. Your focus came crashing back to the mysterious parcel in his small hands.

You tried to scour the corners of your buzzing mind but couldn't remember what you'd bought online for the life of you. You gently took the package from your roommate and squinted down at your name written on the label, earning muffled sounds of amusement from the rest of the guys watching you attempt to read. "I seriously forgot, but anyway let me open it..."

"Uh uh, no way," a scolding tone came from behind you when you reached for the scissors on the kitchen benchtop. You squeaked in surprise when Taehyung yanked them away from your grasp, and he darted to the side playfully before you could even think of chasing him up.

"Yeah, if anyone it'll be Tae using the scissors since he hasn't even had a drink." Hoseok laughed, poking your cheek when you grumbled and pouted.

The others went back to the game playing on the TV while you, Taehyung and Jimin stood around to open the package. It was incredibly soft underneath the plastic wrapping, and the more that was peeled away the more you remembered your spontaneous buy.

"Oh!" You pulled up the massive lump of lime green and white cotton, the largest smile breaking out onto your flushed face. "It's the wearable blanket I wanted!"

"Wearable ... what now?" Yoongi murmured from his spot on the couch.

"Blanket," you finished, and threw the long, heavy bundle of soft material over your head. It acted as a hoodie of sorts, only oversized to the absolute max. The warm buttery feeling of the wool against your skin had you melting on the spot in the best possible way.

"What's it like?" Taehyung murmured quietly when your eyes began to flutter shut in ecstasy, any hint of the chill in the air vanishing in an instant. He seemed to be gripped in a childlike fascination for how truly extra the item of clothing - or blanket? - was. You tried not to flush even more when he stepped closer to gently pinch some of the material between his long fingers, large wonderful eyes widening at the feeling.

"So soft, and warm," you hummed in response to his question, stepping away from him to sink back into the couch now that you were quite literally drowning in fluffy blanket-like fabric. Your hazy mind could barely comprehend anything that was happening around you now that you were reaching peak levels of comfort.

Taehyung followed you down, and you vaguely registered the dip in the couch cushion as he perched himself next to you. Your eyes were closed in pure bliss, but the brief aroma of his lavender lotion swimming around your head told you it was him. You could never mistake this addicting scent; you'd grown to like it way too much in these past few months.

Too bad you were too inebriated to really act on your small crush now, considering he was literally sitting beside you and giving his full, undivided attention for the first time ... ever, actually.

The following hour flew by, but you were still completely lost in the softness of your toasty hoodie-blanket hybrid. There was no doubt that the novelty would last a long time yet, seeing how Jimin would whine out of jealousy every ten minutes or so until you finally caved, letting him have a 'turn' for an entire 60 seconds before demanding it back.

It was cold, and you were a cuddly drunk...

As the boys continued with their game, you soon felt a slight pressure rest on your shoulder ever so slightly. You cracked one eye open to see a mop of black curls out of the corner of your eye, but the haziness flooding your brain meant you couldn't really feel as flustered as you would've - say a few hours ago.

Taehyung's fingers still fiddled with the thick fabric of your blanket-sleeve, but you could barely feel his touch through the sheer amount of wool in between your arm and his hand. Something about that bugged you, but you couldn't muster the energy to think any harder at this point.

"It's the softest thing I've ever felt," he commented, a small smile evident in the way his tone tapered off into a chuckle.

You sighed and sunk further into the bed of cotton surrounding you. "Yeah, won't last long though considering how much I'm gonna use it during winter. Make the most of it while you can, Tae."

His lips parted in slight shock. "Can I?" the boy asked in a low tone, but for what exactly you still weren't quite sure. You turned your head and blinked open both eyes drowsily, grateful that you'd managed to sober up enough by now that there weren't two of him floating around beside you.

Well, more like on you at this point. You took a quick glance at everyone else to see if they were aware, but nobody was looking, and you were sure nobody would even care. Taehyung was quite touchy with his friends and you'd definitely seen it on multiple occasions, but never with you.

Not yet anyway.

He seemed to take your pause as hesitation rather than confusion. "You just look so huggable all wrapped up in it. I wanna know if it's as warm as it looks, but it's okay I can give you some room." His eyes flickered away from your face for the first time and you instantly felt the absence of his lively gaze.

He wants to hug me!?

"No Taetae c'mon." You allowed the nickname you'd always wanted to use break free - a slip the tongue thanks to the alcohol coursing through your system - and opened up your arms to invite him closer. You watched his eyes light up again like a million stars in the night sky.

"Really?" He giggled, and the sound was so adorable paired with the way his lips formed that box-like shape as he smiled, but he spared you no time for a response.

You felt the air forcefully leave your lungs when he crawled over into your heavily padded arms, his own then wrapping themselves around your waist which was swathed in mounds of cotton. You could feel the way he gently buried his face into a place near your chest. Oh God, did he just nuzzle his way in even further?

Where did he end, and you begin? Your drunken mind couldn't really focus on one singular thought, but somehow you were even comfier than before. You brought your arms back down to rest around his broad shoulders and decided to savour this moment, because you sure as hell weren't going to be able to look him in the eye after tonight.

You weren’t even that close. You being nothing more than his best friend’s roommate, and him a newfound friend you might be harbouring the tiniest crush on, but tonight was different.

"So warm..." he murmured and tightened the hold of his arms, though now you wished you could feel more skin and less wool. You imagined what it might feel like, just you and him and nothing but a normal layer of clothes separating you as you cuddled on the couch. It caused a pleased sigh to float from your lips, and you heard Taehyung let out an amused chuckle in tandem.

Could he be thinking something similar? Hopefully?

"I guess I must feel like a massive teddy bear to you," you managed to say without slurring your words, too drunk on the feeling of warmth and comfort and blossoming affection shrouding your mind.

"Damn right you do, sweetheart."

Even in the midst of all the liquid courage circulating your body you felt your heart skip a beat at the deep, relaxed tone of his voice, not to mention the pet-name. He sat up straighter and pulled you along with him, the expression on his face completely blissed out as he hugged you tighter to his frame. You could feel your heart hammering away in your chest, and just hoped to God there was enough fabric there to muffle the clamour.

There you both sat, locked together and bundled up in the mounds of cotton that was your wearable blanket, all until you drifted off to the best drunk sleep you’d ever had. It was the first of many cuddles you would share, unbeknownst to you at the time, but with a giggling Seokjin using his phone to take a blurry video of you both and a snickering Jimin egging him on, it was easy to see how one thing would lead to another the next day.

Sometimes, it appeared the key to winning over a man's heart was to not only become a body pillow, but become his body pillow. 

Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.

[grimmywrites]

So, about Infinite Darkness...

I’m gonna try to be as succinct as I can (I failed) about all the problems I had with it, but my list is pretty long... Yes, this has spoilers. Let me state upfront: if you’re not a hardcore RE fan, you can skip the show. Below I’ll tell you why.

Story: What a mess. Honestly, they turned me off right at the beginning with all the military stuff. It’s the same reason people didn’t like Chris’ campaign in 6; didn’t they learn anything from that? So, the story wasn’t the best thing I’ve ever seen. Honestly, it had more plot holes than anything and so many points where I went: “I don’t care about this.” Again, it was a jumbled mess. Capcom, hire me and I’ll do better, I swear. Let’s just sum it up by saying it’s a rehash of things we’ve seen SEVERAL times in the series before. If you’re gonna do it AGAIN let’s make the story unique and interesting. Oh, there are shady people in the military that want to use bioweapons in war? Okay, we’ve known that since the first game. We’ve seen it time and time again. Look to re8′s ending for example: the BSAA are now starting to use engineered soldiers - THAT was a reveal that was far more interesting. The way it was addressed and overcome in this show was just... so lackluster. Ultimately, it just felt like this entire thing didn’t need to happen. It changed nothing, it impacted nothing, and I’m aware that it really couldn’t since it was after re4 and before re5. There was just no lasting point and all the ‘themes’ (if you can call them that) made absolutely no sense, but I guess I’ll get into that with the characters? Pacing: Absolutely god awful. One minute we’re in the White House fighting zombies then I blink and it’s over and I’m like: Oh, we’re done? Another we’re in a sub and then I blink. Oh, that’s over, too. Also, the creators must’ve taken a page from the last couple of seasons of Game of Thrones (which is an abysmal idea, don’t fucking do that) because with a few cuts here and there we went from Guam to China back to DC. Guess everybody learned how to teleport so they got exactly where we needed them to for the “climax”. Let’s talk about that climax: There was none. Let’s look at Degeneration and Damnation (no I won’t talk about Vendetta). Both had their weaknesses but Leon and the climaxes were BADASS. Leon doing parkour in Degeneration? Leon going against Lickers and the huge Tyrants in Damnation? Those were amazing scenes. He did a few cool things here and there but nothing that got more of a laugh out of me. My man is coming off re4 where he rampaged through a village, a castle, and an island of mutated creatures to save one girl. C’mon now. Characters: By now (if anybody is even reading this rant), you’ve noticed that I’ve talked a lot about Leon. But what about Claire? Yeah, they lied to us about them working together. She got sidelined again. A lot of people are upset about this -- and yeah, it sucks because I do love Claire. Leon has just happened to be my favorite since 1998 so I wasn’t as heartbroken. That doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed, I’m just not very surprised. Leon - My main problem with Leon is Nick, his voice actor. I’m so sorry for all those who like him, but he just isn’t good enough for me. Paul Mercier (re4, Degeneration, Darkside Chronicles) and Matt Mercer (Damnation, Re6, Vendetta) would have been more appropriate. Nick tries his best, but he’s just too soft sounding to be post-re4 Leon. This is a man who is quipping one-liners left and right a couple of years ago. Now he’s barely smiling and doesn’t feel confident at all, and I think a lot of that is because of his portrayal. There are times where the lines hit, but more often than not they fall flat. I never felt that way with Paul who is my favorite Leon or Matt who gave emotional performances every time. Also, his decision at the end? I can understand it, but explain to Claire! Claire - I like Stephanie as Claire, I have no problems with her. She makes her sound tough and ready to do what she thinks is right. Unfortunately, the story completely sidelines her and makes her role obsolete. Everything she uncovers (because that’s her role apparently, just there to Nancy Drew) is already told to us through flashbacks and other characters. Why even have her? Was it just to show us WHY her and Leon don’t talk often? A waste. Shen Mei - I don’t care. I felt nothing for her. They tried really hard, but they just failed to flesh these new characters out and when her time was up I once again went: Oh? That’s it, then. ‘Kay. I think I laughed a bit, sorry girl. Her whole plotline was to get that chip in Leon’s hand, nothing more. Jason -  I don’t care. A character I thought I felt sorry for with his ptsd but nope. Once his story unfolded - messily, I might add (I hate the REPEATED flashback shit. Tell me once and stop teasing me.) I just went... okay, what the hell is your plan? To spread fear? ‘Kay. It was dumb and made no sense. What, he wants everyone to feel terror so they know? It needed to be clarified. It’s like they couldn’t figure out more synonyms for fear and terror. So, what? It helps keep Leon from going public with the chip and that information? Because he knows it’ll just cause mass hysteria? And then you’ve got Claire’s side - she’s not an agent and she believes the people have a right to know. They’re both right, but there’s no goddamn communication between ANYONE in this show. I just felt exhausted by it, nothing else. Not to mention it’s useless angst because of the plot of Degeneration. Wilson - Our bad guy. Let’s just sum up really quickly in case people were confused by the plot: He was putting infected soldiers into war zones so that even after they died they’d kill anybody involved, then he’d bomb the area and clean up the evidence. These soldiers didn’t show any symptoms because they had inhibitors that kept the virus at bay until they died, so they had to take regular shots to stay human. He’s the one who gets the zombies into the white house so that he could blame it on China and get the US into a war with them. That way he could send in his soldiers and infect the populace. From there, he’s the only one with the cure so he could rake in LOTS of money selling it to the world. AKA: he wants to use the US military to infect everyone so he can make a profit. He gets infected by Jason and gets away... then meets up with someone who gives him an inhibitor. This someone is working for Tricell, the big bads of re5 who work under Wesker. So it leads right into the fifth game. That’s all he is, a tie in and yet another example of someone in power trying to profit off the viruses of the RE world. Honestly, nobody else is worth mentioning. Animation: They’re getting better at it. Leon and Claire looked especially pretty, but there’s still a stiffness here and an issue with everyone’s mouths while they talk. I want to praise how different SOME of the characters look - the president and his aides all look appropriately aged and grizzled and distinct. Same with Jason. Other characters (side characters mainly) kinda look generic. Shen Mei for example isn’t very distinct. I mean, her grandpa and brother (both one scene wonders) were more realistic looking than she was. Even Claire - they gave her a bigger nose and made her look more in line with her Revelations 2 model (thank god I love that model). Movement was pretty fluid, I wish we’d seen more fighting and cool action -- though not to the extent of Vendetta. Maybe that’s what they were trying to avoid, but it didn’t make it any fun to watch. Enemies: This is the last thing I’ll comment on. The zombies were fine - they always are. I heard a ton of reused sounds from remake2, as well, but I thought of it as an Easter Egg more than anything. They looked good, their gore was good, all set there. Problem was, they were basically the only bad guys. That’s a huge fucking disappointment. I know people recognize this series as ‘the one with the zombies’ but that’s not true. Every game (save 7) had MULTIPLE enemy types all created through bio engineering. In this show we see three types. THREE. Zombies. Zombie rats - a one-scene wonder that Leon dispatches fast and easy. I’ll admit, they looked cool but there was nothing else to them. “They’re a bioweapon” and then Leon fries them all with some electricity and we’re done. Jason’s mutated form. Okay, I have to admit, I really loved his design. He was cool, I liked that he could talk and emote. But, other than that? He didn’t DO anything cool. He mutated once and hopped around a lot. That’s it. I mean, a bioweapon that keeps his mental capacities? C’MON! We could’ve done so much more with him. Again, this goes back to why the climax was so bad -- he and Leon didn’t fight. One jumped, the other ran around to catch up and fired a few bullets and a rocket at him. Then he used an acid bath to finish the job. (Also, explain to me WHY he mutated into a tyrant-like creature while everyone else with that specific virus was another form of zombie? We see Jun (Shen’s brother) mutating almost crystal-like at one point but... what? You leave them off for a while and they turn into crystal zombies? Make it make sense.) I’m sure there’s more to say, but honestly, unless you’re a hardcore RE fan like me, I’d say you can skip it. It wasn’t a fun ride, there weren’t any stakes, it wasn’t emotional... it just... was. I will end on one good note that made me smile, though: I loved seeing the Ashley Easter Egg.

[vivid-wisp]

You know how it be suffering from big brainrot being into FNF so I’ve compiled a list of ideas for the characters. This is more so for myself but thought I'd share some of my ideas. Take this as you will, these headcanons are based on educated guesses, actual lore, or just for fun. I also really like explaining my reasoning for some stuff so be ready for that. Long post. :]

Boyfriend / BF

- Is asian specifically Japanese, based on the idea how the dev team like to agree Hatsune Miku is BF’s canon sibling. Can also be asian American.

- Despite his appearance BF is actually somewhat physically strong and capable. If he can’t rap battle someone he’d be down to beat someone up, based on the idea how PA (Phantom Arcade) says he sucks at FromSoftware games and would rather throw down IRL than in video games.

- Him and Pico were exes, but they dated when they were WAY YOUNGER, and this was before when BF or Pico knew how to handle a relationship properly. Pico was the one to call things off. (more on Pico’s section) They may still get kind of flustered around each other.

- For most of his childhood, BF never really felt like he stood out. It leads into the reason why he likes singing since it ironically feels like he's being heard, despite not really liking to talk a lot. He was a very quiet kid back then. He'd always liked singing and rapping, he just wasn't put into a position of intense judgement until meeting GF's father and mother, rockstar and ex-rockstar. Training arc begins.

- BF took courses/majored in music design or sound design in college, but dropped out to spend more time with Girlfriend and practice his musical talent himself seeing as it felt more natural than doing boring classes.

- Despite what people think, BF doesn’t dye his hair. It WAS a different color but a shade, like a lighter blue color when he was younger. (Based on Ninjamuffin/NM's recent AMA answers)

- BF owns a dog, not specific but definitely a large breed of dog that stays at home and is taken care of by his parents. He loves a lot of pets and animals, especially anything blue.

- It’s no surprise BF isn’t the smartest, but this comes from a place of putting on the “bad boy” act and being told he’d never make it anywhere in life so he never tried. BF is really a soft guy who deep down has a good heart and just wants to show his appreciation to the person (GF) who makes him feel okay knowing you don’t have to be the best.

- BF actually CAN speak, but chooses to be selectively mute. More so because he’s not the best when it comes to words, and he’s never felt the need to talk. Don’t expect much because like in Week 6, it’ll likely just be random noises he makes or his signature “beeps!” He still reacts, just with noises. (we ignore the logic of him singing it just sounds like beeps to us the players while everyone in universe perfectly understands) [just saw NM's recent AMA I GODDAMN CALLED IT LET'S GOOOO]

Girlfriend / GF

- GF unsurprisingly, has a very wealthy background and in turn family too. So she’s no stranger to most expensive things. This doesn’t mean she won’t appreciate anything BF gifts her, in fact she’s more than appreciative of anything if it comes from BF her love.

- May or may not be a demon like her parents but she doesn’t want to scare BF, and also has slight appearance anxieties about it so she chooses to hide it by staying in her “human” form. She's self conscious of appearing like a demon, and doesn't want to scare people away just based on her look.

- So yes GF can and will in fact beat you up, a lot more than BF if she really wanted to. Especially if she went into her demon form.

- Also not the brightest, due to her extravagant background she’s been so spoiled to the point where everything is handed to her on a silver plate. Which also means her intelligence. They're both himbo/bimbo dynamic I don’t make the rules sorry.

- Actually really good at singing herself too, she’s a bit more wonky with rapping but she’s still good. Ties into the fact GF is the first to teach you how to rap/sing in the tutorial. If she really wanted to, she would destroy BF in a singing battle.

- Kinda aloof and can be apathetic, but more in the sense of “oh cool" instead of a "not caring" feeling way. Like moving on from something that was most definitely not cool like oh my god does that monster with bloody human teeth have a lemon for a head-

- Absolutely adores the large height difference between her and BF. She loves picking BF up suddenly and swinging him around. It’s cute and funny to her. (BF likes the height difference dynamic too but he'd never admit it)

Pico

- Pico never went to college nor finished, instead he takes up jobs from around the city as a mercenary. He's so skilled to the point it pays well enough he doesn't really need a job. He owns a small apartment.

- He likes spending time when he's not on the job, around BF and GF but this is more so at a distance. He does hang out with them, but don't expect him to show up automatically by their side. Like maybe once a week.

- Despite his original job to kill BF, Pico is very protective of BF and looks out for him albeit distantly. He knows BF can handle himself, but he will risk jumping into a situation if BF needs help. ONLY when he needs help.

- Pico still spends time with Nene and Darnell, but this is more so as an acquaintance thing. They're still friends, but all three of their jobs (as assassin and mercs) make things kind of awkward and distance from one another.

- Pico has a lot of untreated trauma, whether that be PTSD, schizophrenia, OCD, etc, a lot of it is very untreated. While Pico is aware he has some mental health disorders he's not aware of ALL of them. He frankly doesn't care nor does he really feel like dedicating the time to properly help himself, which stems from his upbringing in his childhood, "deal with it" attitude back then. He doesn't think it's a big deal, even though deep down he knows he should seek help. Especially after hanging out with BF and GF who, unsurprisingly, are (relatively) normal in the head unlike his friends Nene and Darnell. His disorders disrupt his everyday life and living routine, he can have a lot of very bad days.

- Pico is a wannabe DJ, he likes to sing and rap but prefers the latter and likes listening to music more rather than doing it itself. When he was a kid he liked BF for his passion for singing and rapping, and admired him in a way.

- BF and Pico went to the same elementary school, and were very much friends. After the events of Pico's School, Pico acted very different than how BF knew him, and somewhere along that path BF and Pico decided to date each other when they were in middle school (at 13-14). This was very much a hasty decision and didn't end well. Pico was the one to break things off due to knowing he couldn't handle the responsibility of another person, especially in a relationship. He had too much on his plate already from the trauma that still haunted him, and also was around the time Pico told BF he would be getting homeschooled instead after many years of decision with Pico's parents. It was best to end things before they'd spiral and get worse.

- While BF was heartbroken, he knew it was for the better even if he was upset for quite a bit. After Pico became homeschooled and left middle school, BF noticeably became more quiet until he'd meet GF near the beginning of high school. Pico and BF tried to keep in contact, but eventually naturally just fell out of touch with each other, both too busy with their own lives now. Pico never really resolved his whole feelings issues, which still show up when he'd meet BF years later again but knows those feelings are best left behind.

- While Pico was very surprised and shocked to see BF again despite being commissioned to kill BF, BF himself was too busy being caught up in seeing an old friend again. Whether that be BF was either too dumb to realize he was being killed or because he was genuinely very happy to see his old friend again, the two had a small reconcile after so many years and decided to rap for old time's sake.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

The One With The Room Reassignment

Aguni needs a new room. For, well, reasons. Embarrassing reasons. Reasons that he’s trying not to disclose to anyone, least of all Takeru, who...well, you know how he is.

But it’ll all be okay.

Right?

(Because I simply could not have read this post by @missdrake without writing the Aguni prompt. I mean, come on, the opportunity for banter was just too good!)

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Rating: ‼️18+‼️ Do Not Interact If You Are Underage

Warnings: descriptions of sexual situations, referenced drug use, alcohol, threats of violence

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Of all the places Aguni could be right now, this has to be one of the worst.

It’s not that he dislikes Takeru’s room, per se. On the contrary, he actually enjoys the subtle opulence of the space, spelled out in caramel-colored woods and blue-green drapes.

It’s fancy, yes, but approachable. Comfortable, even.

But, in this moment, Aguni feels anything but comfortable. He feels antsy, he feels jumpy—he feels the angry little teeth of embarrassment nibbling at the ends of his nerves, and its making his palms sweat.

Are the lights in here extra hot, or is that just him?

...It’s probably just him.

It doesn’t help that Takeru is staring at him, those deep-dark eyes filled with their usual mix of subtle scrutiny mixed with glittering amusement and finished off with a dash of smug confidence—like a flourish of whipped cream atop a hot fudge sundae, if the whipped cream had the uncanny ability to see into a person’s soul and the hot fudge sundae was a lovable bastard whose modus operandi involved creating as much drama as possible.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Takeru says—and he is so very feline, stretched into a graceful sprawl along the black leather sofa, his lips curled into a serene, sleepy smile around the lip of a champagne flute.

Aguni doesn’t even like champagne, but he’s been taking small, nervous sips from his own glass all the same because that is infinitely more manageable than talking. Except, well...because he’s not talking, the situation is getting more and more awkward by the minute.

“Didn’t expect you to be alone.”

“I’ve decided to take the night off,” Takeru says, rolling his shoulders back in a slow stretch of spine, “The games, the meetings, the endless parade of unfortunates looking for guidance and reassurance? It wears on you, Mori-chan.”

As if to illustrate the point, Takeru heaves a dramatic sigh.

“There’s something wearing on you, too, isn’t there? You look...pained?”

“I, uh,” Aguni swallows nervously. This is the part he’s been dreading for the last hour, and now that it’s here...well. All he has to do is stick to the plan and everything will be okay.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

“I...” Aguni gulps, “need a new room.”

Although his delivery leaves something to be desired in the “calm and collected” department, Aguni is quite pleased with himself for having managing to get the words out without blushing.

...Okay, he’s probably blushing a little bit, but Takeru hasn’t teased him about it yet, so it can’t be that bad.

“Oh? Why?”

Aguni’s jaw tightens. The problem with Takeru (one of the many, if he’s being honest) is that the man can be particularly difficult to read. Even after thirty-plus years of friendship, Aguni can’t tell what he’s thinking half of the time, which has left him in quite a few...situations. Difficult situations. Confusing situations. Awkward situations.

Situations like these, where Aguni’s brain is spinning like a high-powered carousel on a pottery wheel inside of a giant blender and someone keeps pressing the ‘pulse’ button with a giant hammer and it’s all very loud and very unpleasant.

“The bed,” he answers slowly, “uh, the bed is...broken.”

“Broken?”

Aguni takes another gulp of alcohol—too much for one swallow, and his throat spasms around the popping fizz of carbonation. He coughs slightly.

“Yes,” Aguni clarifies, “Broken.”

Takeru rolls his eyes.

“Always the brilliant conversationalist,” Takeru says, dripping with sarcasm and waving his champagne with a dismissive gesture, “We’ve established that the bed is broken, but you’ve failed to mention how it is broken, and since I do not know the extend of the breakage, I am unable to determine if you do, in fact, need to be moved to a different room. Space is limited, Mori-chan. I can’t afford to be frivolous about such things.”

Had he not been so focused on maintaining some semblance of composure, Aguni might have teased his friend for lecturing him about frivolity—but now is not the time for chit-chat. He is a man on a mission, and the success of said mission is dependent on his ability to, as they say, ‘get in and get out.’

“The frame. It, uh...snapped off of the headboard,”Aguni answers carefully, “It’s...I can’t sleep on it.”

Takeru’s eyes narrow.

“Ah. I see.”

Silence settles between them once more—only for a moment, but it’s enough to make Aguni shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“I can fix it,” Aguni adds, “I just...need a place to stay tonight.”

There is a flash of silver—Takeru is one of the only people Aguni knows under the age of sixty who uses a cigarette case, which is both charming and frequently inconvenient— and it’s only a second before the scent of smoke and nicotine fills the air.

“I suppose that’s reasonable,” he concludes—and it’s a weight off of Aguni’s mind and heart that Takeru hasn’t decided to ask him a million questions regarding the “why’s” and “how’s” of his current predicament.

Perhaps there’s a chance he can make it out of here (relatively) unscathed.

So, when Takeru offers Aguni a drag on his cigarette, Aguni doesn’t much read into the gesture and gladly accepts.

“Hm,” Takeru says.

“What?”

“That is...so interesting.”

Aguni hands the cigarette back to his friend.

“Not sure what you mean.”

“I’m just reminiscing, I suppose,” Takeru says airily, “about the last time we shared a cigarette. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Something blooms in Aguni—something bad and uncertain.

“I don’t—“

“Oh, it’s been years. Three, actually. And a half. Tell me, Mori-chan,” Takeru furrows his brow, “can you remember where we were three-and-a-half years ago?”

Remember the ‘something’ that bloomed inside Aguni just a moment ago? Well, it has a name, and that name is ‘intense discomfort.’ He knows where this is going. He knows he’s powerless to stop it.

“Don’t worry, my dear friend—I remember,” he says, closing his eyes and smiling to himself, “Halloween. Osaka. 2018. I was Freddie Mercury. You were Elton John. It took me ages to get all those sequins sewn on...”

Takeru takes one final hit from the cigarette before stubbing it out into a (decidedly lovely) teacup that happened to be conveniently placed on the coffee table in front of him.

“Isn’t that the year you threw the statue of Colonel Sanders into the river?”

Takeru sneers.

“You mean the year I threw Colonel Sanders into the river alone because...somebody ran off with the mascot from that mediocre takoyaki stand,” he snips, “and then had the audacity to show up two hours later asking for a cigarette. Do you know why you asked for a cigarette, Mori-chan?”

“Oh no.”

“It’s because you didn’t have any on you. Because you don’t usually smoke. Unless,” and Takeru positively relishes his dramatic pause, “it’s after sex.”

Aguni doesn’t say anything.

“You thought you could come into my house,” Takeru shouts, “after having mind-blowing, soul-shattering sex—the kind of sex that snaps bed frames clean in half—and I wouldn’t know about it?”

“But how did you—?”

“I heard you,” Takeru spits, “howling like...like some kind of demonic wolf in the light of a full moon!”

“I couldn’t have been that loud...”

“Loud enough to hear from down the hall,” Takeru adds, “frankly, I’m impressed. And a little jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Of your lover. Nobody’s broken a bed fucking me lately, which is a goddamn shame,” Takeru sips from his glass, “Don’t suppose you’ll tell me who it was, hm?”

“No,” Aguni snaps, perhaps a bit too quickly, “making fun of me is one thing, but I won’t you have you making fun of my...uh, my...”

“Paramour?”

“...Sure,” Aguni says, “Look, the point is, it’s important that I—“

“Yes, yes, you’re about to lecture me about ‘privacy’ and ‘boundaries’ and all the things decent people like you are oh-so-interested in preserving,” Takeru says, rolling his eyes, “Believe it or not, I am capable of discretion.”

“You are?”

“When the situation calls for it,” Takeru muses, “or if it’s simply more fun to keep my mouth shut and watch the drama unfold. You having a secret lover ticks both boxes.”

Takeru jumps up from his seat and claps his hands together.

“So! I have decided,” he announces with great panache, “that I shall, in fact, give you a new room. A nice one, too. Maybe even nicer than the one you’re in currently.”

Aguni huffs a relieved breath.

“Thank you.”

“But!” Takeru flops down on the couch next to Aguni with all the grace of a fleshly-flipped pancake, “You have to do something for me.”

“I don’t—“

“You have to answer three,” and Takeru holds up three fingers in front of Aguni’s face, “of my questions. Truthfully. No skips, no take-backs.”

This is...well. This is not ideal.

Aguni considers his options. On one hand, he’s entirely justified in slapping Takeru across the face and shouting ‘absolutely not!’—and, honestly, Takeru would probably understand because, while he is an asshole, he is a self-aware asshole.

On the other hand, it’s only three questions. Maybe, if he’s able to keep Takeru on topic (a Herculean effort to be sure), Aguni can make quick work of getting a new room and, more importantly, getting the hell out of here.

“Fine,” he mumbles, “but make it quick. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Takeru says, “nothing wears you out quite like an evening of dirty, nasty, animalistic—“

“Takeru!”

“—Depraved, disgusting fucking,” and he makes a very disgusted ugh-ing sound when he notices Aguni shooting him a pointed glare, “Fine. Lovemaking. Whatever. The point is that you got it in real good and that’s enough to make anyone tired.”

“Dealing with you is making me tired. Please, just...ask your questions so I can get a room and go to bed.”

“Fine, fine,” Takeru says, and he makes a great show of thinking the matter over, mouth puckering into a pouty little frown before snapping into a mischievous smirk, “Question one: did you shower before coming here?”

Aguni sighs and looks down at his shoes.

“No.”

“Oh, that is gross,” Takeru shouts, clapping him on the back, “I’m so proud of you!”

Aguni rolls his eyes, trying his hardest to look unaffected by his friend’s prying. But he can’t hide the blush from blooming on his face, because this is all very mortifying and he doesn’t particularly enjoy the way Takeru is looking at him with a devious little smile.

“It’s like looking in a mirror,” Takeru says, running a hand through his hair, “a less-handsome—but taller—mirror!”

“Got a good two inches on you,” Aguni says, and he relishes the way his companion winces. Although he is not a short man by any means, Takeru has always been just a bit shorter than him—which has led to quite a few jabs over the years.

“Maybe in height,” Takeru quips, “but certainly not everywhere else, hm?”

It’s odd, but somehow, Aguni has not yet gotten used to feeling his soul leave his body. He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s dying inside, letting the pain shine out directly from his face and hopes it slaps Takeru across the mouth so he doesn’t have to.

“I couldn’t resist,” Takeru says between chuckles, “You know how I am!”

“Unfortunately.”

But Takeru is too busy staring at him now to give one of his classically witty retorts. To the untrained eye, it would appear that he is carefully considering something. Because Aguni knows that the words ‘careful’ and ‘consideration’ are not part of Takeru’s vocabulary, he steels himself for whatever batshit-insane bullshit is going to come flying at him next.

“Now, I know the identity of your new squeeze is off-limits. Which I am sympathetic towards, because I am a sensitive and caring man—which, by the way, is something you should mention to any and all available singles you should happen upon throughout your travels...”

There’s just something about the way Takeru talks—and talks, and talks—that sets Aguni’s blood to boil.

“You know why it took me three years to get laid? Because you,” Aguni snaps, “wouldn’t stop fucking talking long enough for me to get away and meet someone.”

“Ooh, so bitchy! Seems like you could use a little more of whatever you just had,” Takeru runs a finger along the rim of his glass, smiling to himself when the friction creates a high-pitched hum, “if that’s a possibility, of course.”

Aguni feels a headache coming on. He runs at his temples in a (futile) attempt to stave it off.

“I don’t have time for your games, Takeru. If you want to ask me if this was a one-night stand, then ask me if it was a one-night stand.”

“Fine, then. Mori-chan,” Takeru places his glass on the table and turns to face Aguni. He pulls his legs up and hugs his shins close to himself, chin resting on his knobby knees—like a high school girl at a sleepover, “Did you give that mystery individual the fuck of a lifetime because you knew it was going to be a one-time thing...or because this is the start of something more?”

“I...” Aguni pauses, “I don’t know.”

Takeru’s brow furrows.

“Don’t look at me like that! I was, uh,” Aguni rubs the back of his neck uncertainly, “I thought we’d maybe have that conversation when I got back.”

Takeru tilts his head slightly to the left.

“Got back from where?”

“Here.”

“Mori-chan. Darling. Dearest,” Takeru places a hand on his shoulder, fingers gripping into the skin a little more with each passing moment, “do you mean to tell me that you...left your lover alone on a broken bed...to come talk to me?”

“No,” Aguni answers, “Left ‘em in the bath.”

“Oh my God...”

“What? I thought it was a nice gesture.”

“You are so cute and hopeless.”

Takeru scoots close enough to Aguni that their hips are touching, the arm that had been gripping his shoulder now slung around his mid-back.

“Picture it,” he says, reaching his other arm out in front of them as if grasping at a ghost of a dream, “your paramour—whoever they may be—sitting alone in a bathtub. Naked. Glistening.”

“...Glistening?”

“Sparkling, even.”

That is...oh dear. Aguni hadn’t thought of it like that. And now he can’t stop thinking about it. His mind’s eye is conjuring up a most hypnotic display, involving skin and steam and a crystalline droplets rolling down the length of a neck and—

“I put bubbles in,” he admits, voice soft and unfocused as he drifts in his daydream, “Lavender-scented.”

“That’s. Wow,” Takeru sighs, patting Aguni’s knee, “You’re a stronger man than I am, that’s for sure. I simply wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. I mean, you could be in there right now, but...you’re here with me instead.”

Something breaks in Aguni. Something he hadn’t been aware of before now, but was apparently a very important piece of whatever was keeping him from grabbing Takeru by the lapels and shaking him with all the strength and rage that has been building up for the past twenty minutes.

Because that’s what he’s doing right now. He’s grabbing Takeru by the lapels of his weird robe thing and shaking him within an inch of his life. He’s also yelling, something like ‘give me the goddamn room’ but it’s hard to hear over the deafening rush of blood in his ears.

“Not...the...silk,” Takeru begs—well, as much as a man being maliciously jostled can beg—while his hands attempt to loosen Aguni’s own from his outfit, “She didn’t...do anything...wrong!”

Aguni stops shaking him, but not because he wants to—no, he very much wants to continue shaking this annoying man until his head snaps off and flies out the window—but because Takeru has started to take on a bit of a sickly greenish tinge and Aguni is not in the mood to deal with that on top of everything else.

“I will tear that tacky thing to shreds if you don’t give me a new room,” he seethes, releasing his grip on Takeru altogether and enjoying the way the other man falls back slightly as he’s let go, “I snapped a fucking bed frame an hour ago; I could tear that and you in half without even trying.”

“Okay, but,” and Takeru winces, “I just...there’s a bit of a problem. Not...a ‘problem’ problem, but...I’m very worried about how you’ll react after that little outburst you just had.”

Great. Of course there’s a catch. There’s always a catch with Takeru—but Aguni had been naive enough to think that his frustrating questionnaire had been it.

“There’s only one room available,” Takeru continues, as if he’s trying to calm a very angry horse or convince a toddler to do literally anything, “and it’s...well, it’s...the one next door.”

“You mean,” Aguni says very flatly, “the room next to this one?”

“Yes.”

“With the adjoining door?”

“Hit me if you want,” Takeru says, pressing himself against the arm of the couch and, therefore, as far away from Aguni’s anger as possible, “just...please don’t shake me again. My delicate constitution couldn’t possible take it.”

Aguni is reminded of a poem—the Robert Frost one about two roads in a wood or something like that. The way he figures, he’s got two roads in front of him right now: the ‘scream at Takeru and maybe shake him a little more and also refuse the room’ road versus the ‘it’s only one night and things couldn’t possibly get worse than they already are so take the room and maybe try to salvage the evening’ road.

Both are tempting.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said it was nicer than your current room. Good view, spacious, well-decorated,” he says, “Except for the credenza under the TV, that’s hideous. Wouldn’t be mad if you, y’know, decided to break that in the heat of the moment...”

Aguni must look positively murderous, because Takeru immediately switches into grovel mode, which includes various assorted platitudes and exclamations of ‘it was just a joke!’ and ‘please don’t kill me!’

It’s kind of funny, actually.

“Listen,” Takeru half-pleads, “I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m over here. Hell, if I smoke enough weed, I won’t know I’m here, which will work out just great! I slip into a light coma, you slip into a comfortable bed with your sweetheart, and everybody’s happy.”

“You just want an excuse to get high.”

“No,” he answers confidently, “I want you to be happy and I want to get high. Use my mind-altering substances for good, not evil. You know, like a superhero. Or maybe even Jesus.”

Aguni decides not to bring Takeru’s half-joking-but-not-really God-complex into question, because that would launch him into an hour-long tirade about the importance of self-love and how he would be an excellent choice for the next mayor of Tokyo. And maybe he wouldn’t be the worst mayor Tokyo has ever had, but...well. He might not be very good at it, either.

And maybe it’s because he’s incapable of staying too horribly angry at his best friend for very long, but Aguni concludes that it’s best just to take the room and let the situation go. He’s had enough drama for one night.

“Fine,” Aguni finally says, “I’ll take it.”

And he moves to stand before Takeru can suck him in to another conversation.

“You know,” Takeru calls casually as Aguni begins to walk towards the door, “I still haven’t asked my third question...”

“You have got to be kidding—“

“But,” Takeru quickly interjects, “I don’t have to ask, because I already know that the answer is ‘yes.’”

“Hm?”

“Yes,” Takeru concludes with a wry smile, “you are happy. Even when you were about to about to slap me, I could see it written all over your face.”

Aguni feels...embarrassed. Again. He’s truly been on an emotional rollercoaster since stepping foot into Takeru’s room, and it’s almost poetic that he has managed to start and end his journey with a begrudging blush.

“Now, go,” Takeru says, shooing him off with a roll of his wrist, “get out of my sight and into bed with that sexy little secret you insist upon hiding from the rest of us!”

Aguni doesn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly makes his way towards the exit, his legs taking slightly-larger-than-normal strides as he attempts not to appear too giddy at the thought of returning to his lover. Maybe they can test out the bathtub in the new room. Or the shower. Or maybe just hang out in bathrobes and talk?

Honestly, he’s just excited to see them again. A nice, soothing presence. Something to help him decompress after...whatever the hell that just was with Takeru. There’s a seventy-five-percent chance that he’ll stay true to his word and be stoned out of his mind by the time they switch rooms, and a twenty-percent chance that he’ll spend the night pressed up against the door trying to listen in. The other five percent? That’s what Aguni likes to call the ‘wild card allotment’ because Takeru is...well, he’s just the kind of guy to do something completely unpredictable, and he likes to plan for that.

“Remember,” Takeru calls out just as Aguni is stepping out, “Break the credenza!”

And Aguni has never been happier to shut a door in his life.

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PS: the thing with throwing the statue of Colonel Sanders in the river is a thing that actually happened and I think it’s really funny so that’s why I put it in here. Plus, like. Takeru totally would.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 43 - Meant To Be

Title: Irreverent Pt. 43 - Meant To Be Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 22,571

A/N: I’m very nervous about this chapter, but I think it’s important nonetheless and I’m asking you to bear with me on it. I am very aware that this is an Aaron Hotchner story at its core, but I’d be remiss if I ignored the back story for a Reader I’ve come to really love and treasure. If it helps anyone, I picture John to look like Steve Rogers circa Winter Soldier. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Your mother was being impossible. Julian was escorting Elizabeth Abbott to her cotillion and everyone in the family was going except for you, which was completely unfair! You'd begged and begged the entire month, any chance you had with her, and she had yet to relent. You'd been on your absolute best behavior, you'd maintained your spot at the top of your class, and you'd even landed the lead role in the Nutcracker. Yet, your mother was of the opinion that little girls didn't belong at formal events.

Dom was back for his winter holidays and everyone was under the same roof again after nearly six months. Your Papa had been away on business for the past five weeks and there was a chance he hadn't yet spoken to your mother about the cotillion, so taking a risk, you asked him if you could attend.

He fixed you with his thinking look as you waited nervously, peeking over at your mother who seemed completely irritated with you going over her head.

"Have you kept up with what I taught you last time for your chess game?" he asks finally.

You nod. "Of course Papa.

"Good, then pick one of your brothers to play. If you win, then you may attend."

This was better than you could have hoped for. You quickly exchange a look with Julian who winks at you, bypassing your mother's glare.

"I'll play Julian," you say, standing to set up the board by the fireplace.

Dom, who had till that point been absorbed in his own business, chooses then to tune in to the rest of the family. "Oh come on! Julian's just going to let her win."

"No he's not!" you insisted, looking at your Papa. Dominic was being annoying for no reason and he would try his best to beat you on purpose. Why did he even care if you attended or not?

Your Papa looks between you and Dominic, and it must have been the fact that Julian avoided his eyes altogether that convinced him to listen to Dom.

"It should be a real victory, don't you think?" he asks you, fixing you with his stern face that always made you feel like he knew everything you were trying to hide from him.

"Yes Papa," you responded glumly, as you continued to set up. Dom and his smug face got up to take the seat opposite yours.

However, you needn't have worried. You hadn't lied when you told your father that you'd kept up with the chess lessons. You'd been practicing nearly every day, on your own and with Julian and his friends. Dominic lost far too quickly for being nineteen years old, playing his nine year old baby sister.

He stared at the board after you said checkmate for a few minutes, as if he couldn't believe that had just happened. As though you'd tricked him. Before you could really gloat in your victory, he roared and flipped the board over. You quickly scrambled to get away from him as he came at you with his arm raised.

"Hey, man, she's nine! What the hell!" Julian had ran to get between the two of you and Dominic shoved him, throwing him off balance, before he swung at his face.

You'd run to hide behind your father's chair as Dominic continued on towards you, having punched Julian in the face and knocked him backwards. It took your father standing up and being absolutely furious, for Dom to back off. He threw you a nasty look and strode out of the study, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Julian stood up, and you gasped loudly when you saw his face.

Your mother turns to you, absolutely furious. "You see! Now look what you've done. Your brother is supposed to be an escort - how is he meant to do that with a black eye?"

You turned to look at your father who only shook his head before walking out after Dom, leaving you to deal with your mother's wrath on your own.

How on earth was this your fault?

However, it had all been worth it, because here you sat at your very first ball. You'd had your dress picked out for weeks in the vain hope that you'd be allowed to go and it had paid off. Your legs dangled from the chair as you sat between your parents, your mother constantly fussing with your dress and chastising you to sit up straight. As the music swelled, you watched all of the girls walk down the steps in their white gowns, their fathers handing them off to their dates. Julian met Mr. Abbott at the foot of the steps and accepted Elizabeth from him. Your mother had managed to hide the black eye with some concealer and your father had knocked some sense into Dom, who was sulking at the bar in the back with some of his buddies.

Then there he was. Escorting beautiful Cecelia Rhodes, Johnathan Hawthorne walked past your table with her on his arm and as he caught your eye, he threw you a wink and a grin. You sighed to yourself, smiling wide as you watched him. John Hawthorne with his all-American good looks, amazing hair, and a smile that could warm the coldest of hearts. He was, by every definition of the word, perfect.

John led Cecelia to stand near Julian and Elizabeth - you knew that the two of them had practiced the dance all week with one other. You'd supervised. They better not mess it up and make you look like a bad teacher. However, you needn't have worried. Both Lizzie and Cece should thank you that they had the best dates there. All of the other boys messed up. A lot.

Your mother had given you a ten o'clock curfew and it was already nine thirty by the time the dessert was served, so you really didn't have too much time left before Mrs. Hernandez came to pick you up. Your parents had abandoned you a while back, so you were left to entertain yourself. You looked up and saw Julian talking to some boy from his class. It looked like him and Elizabeth were done dancing for the night, because her and Cece were sitting at a different table with some other girls. The music was still playing and there were a few of the older couples on the dance floor, swaying along to the music.

"Hey Cap."

You turn and see John coming up behind you and dropping into your father's chair. You giggled as you turned to him and said hello. You always loved it when he called you that. It made you feel special. He'd told you that you reminded him of one of the best chess players of all time, Capablanca, because the two of you both finished off your opponents lightning fast. He'd started calling you Cap because of it, insisting that one day you would be better than him. He also made it a point to play you anytime he was over, and while he had yet to win, he kept trying.

"You looked really good out there," you tell him, a slight color flushing your cheeks.

"Well, I had a pretty good teacher," he replies, smiling at you with his radiant smile that never failed to take your breath away.

"That's true."

He laughs, before swiping your dessert plate and finishing off the rest of your cake while you glare at him. But you're not really all that upset. It's John. You couldn't ever be all too mad at him.

"What're you doing here? Besides eating my cake," you ask him, indicating to the rest of his classmates who were scattered between a few tables in their own groups. None of the rest of them were sitting around with the baby.

"Well, I couldn't end the night without dancing with the prettiest girl here, now could I?" He smiles and offers you his hand, which you grab excitedly. No one had asked you to dance yet and it would be a shame to not dance even once at your first ball ever.

John leads you out to the dance floor and offers to let you stand on his feet, but you were determined to do this right. You weren't given the role of Clara for nothing - you earned that! He held both of your hands in his due to the height difference, and the two of you moved along to the music in formation.

"Hey John," you said, looking up at him shyly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you love Cece?"

He's quiet for a second as he thinks over your question. "Well, she is my girlfriend," he says after a few seconds, "but it's still new and we're figuring things out."

You nod. You'd expected as much - John was good at giving the right answers and he never lied to you if he could help it.

"Do you think you'll marry her one day?"

He laughs a bit at that. "Probably not. She's just a girl I'm dating in high school. Not many people end up with their high school sweetheart."

You smile at that. He's right. Most people grow up, move away, go to college and meet their wives and husbands there. Your parents had met one another in college, after all.

"Good," you tell him, allowing him to spin you around his finger.

He smiles a bit weirdly at that, his eyebrows going up a bit. "Why is that good?" he asks.

You're not sure if you should tell him. It is a little embarrassing. But then, if you didn't tell him, then he might pick some girl - Cece or otherwise - and that would cause other sorts of problems.

"Promise you won't laugh?" you ask him. You have to be sure that he wouldn't make fun of you for this. That would break your heart if he of all people laughed.

"I promise," he says, linking your pinkies with his.

You take a deep breath, before you look right at him. "Because one day, I'm going to marry you. And we'll get married by the lake where Auntie Amelia got married and I'll get to wear the biggest white dress ever. You'll wear a blue suit because blue goes well with your eyes. It'll be perfect."

You expect him to laugh even though he said he wouldn't. But then, John really isn't like that. He kneels down so he can look at you better, not caring that the music is still playing and everyone else is still dancing. He looks you right in the eye, completely seriously, and sticks out his hand for you to shake. "You got yourself a deal, Cap."

*------------*

It's Thanksgiving Break and his parents are on business in Asia so Julian had invited him to spend the holiday with his family. Dominic and his girlfriend would be there, and Julian had told him that you were dreading an entire week of playing nice with Dom so that he can show off the family and charm the pants off of the Huntingtons' daughter. John would be a welcome buffer.

He'd accepted mostly so he could avoid being the only person left on campus, and the alternative was to go home with the new girl he'd started seeing and he worried that meeting the parents so soon would send the wrong message. Caitlyn was nice and all but he didn't see much of a future there. She was bright in the way that girls tend to be when they're told they need to go to college to secure a husband. She could carry on an intellectual conversation for around five minutes, until you dug deeper and realized all she knew was the reader's digest version.

That's how he finds himself in Connecticut, sneaking out with you and Julian to the pool. He'd spent the day hunting with the men, and while your mother had thought you were going out to ride, you'd actually snuck along with them. Your father had merely shook his head before grabbing an extra rifle for you. He knew you didn't really want to hunt, you just wanted to be included. You kept conveniently missing easy shots and he'd gone to the shooting range with you too many times to believe you'd gotten that bad overnight. When he'd quietly called you out on it, you told him you didn't feel comfortable eating Bambi for dinner. He'd had to agree with you, so now your father thought he was a terrible shot as well.

It's been a while since he'd spent so much time with you, as he'd been away at college or doing internships. The last time, you'd been around thirteen and it had been his and Julian's second winter holidays when both of your families had booked a stay in Gstaad. You'd fallen ill and had spent most of the time sniffling and coughing in bed. Him and Julian would hit the slopes in the morning and then spend the rest of the day drinking hot chocolate and watching movies in your room while Julian complained about you getting your germs all over him. You talked to him about all the classes he was taking and the two of you had spent a memorable afternoon debating the merits of the death penalty. He was going to be using all of it for the paper he had due.

It's late at night and the moon is overhead. Julian had excused himself to go raid your father's liquor cabinet and in the distance you two can hear Dom and his girlfriend Katie fighting. Your mother had made some comment about her clothing and it had obviously gotten to her. She'd have to grow a thicker skin if she was going to last.

"Hundred dollars says they break up by Christmas." You look at him, your face betraying your glee at your brother's misfortune.

He laughs. "You're on." He had a feeling Katie was more resilient than most. She hadn't blown up at your mother to her face. She'd waited until it was just Dom and her. He had a feeling Dom would be making it up to her for a while, though, if he wanted it to last.

The two of you are sat at the edge of the pool, your feet dangling in the water. It's a good thing the pool is heated, because swimming in late November in Connecticut and dying as a result of freezing to death really wasn't his life plan. He looks at you, playing with the edge of the sweatshirt you'd borrowed from him when you'd first come over to Julian's room where the two of them had been hanging out. You'd persuaded them to come out with you and had asked to borrow something to throw on top since it was freezing outside. The Columbia law school hoodie enveloped you completely, nearly at your knees.

"What's going on with you lately?" he asks, turning towards the house and seeing the lights go on in your father's study, indicating that Julian had started raiding the alcohol.

"Well, high school sucks like you said it would," you reply with a bitter note to your voice. He knew that you hated going to boarding school and had thrown a fit when your parents had decided to send you. Neither Dom nor Julian had gone to boarding school, and you'd protested against it vehemently. However, your father hadn't wanted to leave you on your own in Connecticut and with him traveling so much and your mother being away as well, they wanted to give you a semblance of structure. He wasn't sure if he agreed with it either - he knew you'd be much happier going to Hopkins like the rest of them had rather than go boarding school hopping to whichever continent your father decided to have business in that year.

"Have you at least made new friends this time?"

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "If by friends, you mean guys named Brad who ask me out and then when I say no, they go and tell the entire school I slept with them, then sure yeah. I've made friends."

He raises his eyebrows at that. There wasn't a chance Julian knew about this, because if he did, Brad would be history.

"What'd you do about that?" he asks, wondering if he needs to go teach this Brad guy a thing or two about how to treat girls right.

"Told anyone who asked, that Brad isn't particularly well-endowed," you tell him, the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

"Good girl."

"I can handle it, it's not that I can't. It's just…I can't wait to be in college and not have to worry about this sort of crap."

He hums in agreement. College really was the great equalizer - or as much as it can be when everyone has the exact same blue blood upbringing as you do. He'd tried to make friends that weren't from his usual circles back when he'd done undergrad at Princeton and had hit it off with a few kids on scholarship. It was difficult however, when they either wanted to pay their own way or wouldn't let him help out. Made things awkward.

"Can I tell you something?" you ask. He notices that your fingers fidget with the ends of his sweatshirt - he's always found that little tell of yours endearing.

"Of course."

"I'm the last girl in my year to not have kissed anyone. Even Siena Robertson made out with Jacob Pemberley on the soccer field right before the break, so now I'm the last one left."

You look miserable admitting that and he feels for you - being a teenager and feeling like you're behind on stuff like that is its own brand of misery.

"It'll happen when the time is right," he says, hoping that's of some relief. However, even he knows how hollow his words sound. They're likely of little solace when you're a fifteen year old girl stuck feeling like there's something wrong with you for not having achieved these milestones.

He looks over at you and you had an odd look on your face, as though you're conflicted with something and struggling to really put your thoughts into words. He nudges you with his shoulder, moving his head up as if to ask, What else is going on in that head of  yours?

"I don't want my first kiss to be some guy named Brad," you admit, not looking at him, instead staring resolutely into the pool. The chilly air outside blows your hair ever so slightly, and he watches it move rather than look at you.

"Who do you want it to be?" he asks quietly.

You turn to him, your doe eyes wide with the hint of tears, biting your lip, and looking at him like you're not sure why he even bothered asking. As if he didn't know.

He feels his heart clench but he forces himself to look away from you, shaking his head as he does. "You're a kid," he says, the hair at the nape of his neck standing straight up as another chilly wind rushes over the both of you, blowing more leaves to the ground in a swirl.

He'd hoped that would be it. That you'd realize the absurdity of what you're saying.

"Please John." You plead, your hand reaching for his, sending a shiver down his spine. Your fingers are like icicles and he can't help himself from wrapping your hand in his, if only to warm it up.

"Julian would kill me," he tells you, wondering why that was the only thing he could think of to say to you. There's other reasons of course - it's wrong, so very wrong. He's a grown man and you're a kid. You deserve to have your first kiss be someone who you love - at least puppy love. Not like this.

"Julian doesn't have to know."

His jaw clenches as he looks down at you, your eyes fixed at where his hand is holding yours.

"Please," you try again, squeezing his hand to force him to meet your eyes. "Please don't let my first kiss be some guy named Brad."

He knows what you're saying. Don't let your first kiss mean nothing. Don't let it be meaningless and awful and only because you don't want to feel behind the rest of your classmates. Because he knows, that if this is how you feel already, you won't waste any time to make sure you're up to the mark, the second you get back to school. It would be rushed and sloppy and some kid named Brad would go around the school telling everyone he'd managed to snag you, and this time he wouldn't be lying.

He didn't want that for you. You deserved better.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he turns to look back at the study - the lights are still on, meaning Julian still hasn't left. The next second he's moved his hand out of your grasp, only to wrap it around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his head bent down to capture your lips with his, swallowing your surprised noise. Soft, plush, pliant, perfect. It's a quick press of lips on lips. Chaste, almost, if it weren't for the fact that he'd practically grabbed you like a rag doll, nearly to his lap. He won't take it further, though. He shouldn't. He moves away on a sigh. Your eyes are closed, your long lashes kissing your cheeks, your face illuminated by the moonlight.

"Thank you," you breathe out, your eyes still closed.

He knows he'll remember this moment forever.

There's the sound of the back door opening, and the two of you quickly move away from one another. Your eyes meet his and you smile just barely at him and he has a hard time not smiling back.

Julian returns, bottle of scotch in one hand and a bottle of Moët in the other. You refuse to drink scotch still, insisting it burns too much, so the champagne is always for you.

*------------*

It’s over a year later when he finds himself in Connecticut once again. His mother had asked him why he’d come just for cotillion season, and he tells her he'd missed her and his father and wanted to see them before buckling down for finals. He can't tell them the truth. That you'd called and asked him to.

"You know, it is quite unfair for you to have gotten to dance with me at your cotillion, but for me to be denied the same pleasure at mine," you'd said when you'd called him.

His face had split into a grin as he stood up to take your call, leaving his date sitting by herself. His mother had set him up with Arthur Cafferty's daughter who was studying fashion at NYU. Needless to say, the two of them had nothing in common and after three dates with the girl, he had really only asked her out this final time to break it off nicely.

"When is it?" he'd asked, taking his planner out of his bookbag. He hadn't even bothered to go home and change for this date. One would think the girl would take a hint and realize he wasn't interested.

You told him the date and he said he'd make it work. Your resulting squeal was so high pitched, he had to move the phone away from his ear.

"You're sure it's not too much trouble?" you ask, once your initial excitement wears off.

"Anything for my future wife," he jokes. "I am nothing if not a loving and doting husband."

Your twinkling laugh carried him through the misery of breaking up with the Cafferty girl.

He'd pushed off a couple of study groups, spoken to his Tort Law professor about making up the in-class debate he would miss, and caught the train up from the city. Julian had flown back from Europe, and the two of them had tagged along with you and your mother to your final dress fitting so that they could get their tux fittings done at the same time. The seamstress had you try on your dress and you looked like a ball of cotton, the swathes of tulle falling around you. You'd patiently stood while the lady made some last minute adjustments, both him and Julian poking fun at you while she did.

Once your mother left to go deal with the payment, you quickly moved to get out of the dress, grabbing another with you on the way into the fitting room. The seamstress dragged him and Julian up onto the fitting platforms next, tutting about them both having grown far too much since the last time. He detects movement in the mirror he's standing in, and you've emerged wearing another dress. He turns towards you, taking it in.

This dress flows down to your feet, draping against you as if it was made for you. As you take a step forward, his eye is caught by the deep slit to the side which exposes your leg with your movement. You know he's watching, so you turn for his benefit, revealing that there's no back to this dress. There's just the smooth skin of your back, fully exposed - his eyes wander down, catching the visible dimples at your lower back. He has to take a second and remind himself that Julian is there too, but you'd seen his reaction - he's sure of it. You'd taken his breath away.

"Mother will obliterate you if she sees you wearing that," Julian warns, moving towards you to help you spin around in it.

As if summoned, your mother reappears, seemingly aghast at your dress, and quickly ushers you away from view. Neither him nor Julian can make out what the two of you are saying, but its obviously an argument. When you emerge, you look entirely put out and he catches your eye, rolling his eyes in sympathy and drawing a small smile from you.

The next night, Julian and him drive you to the venue, dropping you off, before going to meet up with some old friends in the area. You were head debutante and had to coordinate everyone else along with the cotillion Chair, and thus were arriving nearly six hours prior to the event.

It's dark by the time everyone has arrived at your ball. It's decidedly your ball, that much is obvious. You'd had the venue changed from the usual ballroom at the country club to the old Haverford Mansion with its vaulted ceilings and grand staircase. He briefly wonders how you'd managed to swing that - the Chairs are usually older women who rule these events like their life depends on it. Then again, you could charm anyone if you really wanted to.

Julian and him find themselves at a table with both of your families. Dom had brought Katie, who had stuck around despite your mother. You'd handed over the cash to him from that bet happily enough. Katie was great. You didn't think Dom deserved her and you were quite vocal about your opinion.

"Julian, my boy!" John's father exclaims, sitting down across from the two of them, "When's your next show coming?"

"Oh I've only just started on the new collection, Mr. Hawthorne, so not for a while. But I'll be sure to give you first peek when it's ready" Julian tells his father. The Hawthornes made it a point to always grab a piece from any collection Julian painted, his mother fancying herself a patron of the arts.

His mother briefly asks him and Julian why neither of them could ever manage to bring dates to such events and all of their classmates are getting married around them. John of course knew the reason why Julian never brought dates - his dates tend to wear suits instead of ballgowns and it wasn't the kind of attention he wanted brought to his life. Why he never seemed to have a date, however, was a very good question. One that could be answered if anyone were to remember the time he had brought a real date. Lindsey Carlyle had left last Thanksgiving when everyone had congregated at his family's brownstone, in a huff, claiming he wanted to spend more time with a sixteen year old girl rather than her.

"Remind me to tell my sister she owes me for making me sit through another one of these functions around all these people," Julian mutters to him, tugging at his collar.

John stifles a laugh. He was sure Julian would think of some manner of having you make it up to him - likely by simply having you spend the summer with him gallivanting around Europe. Julian didn't have it in him to truly be upset with you.

"I don't know how she talked you into coming, but she's had you whipped forever, so I guess I'm just glad I'm not here alone."

He rolls his eyes, elbowing Julian. It's no secret that he lets you boss him around - always has, ever since you were little.

Everyone quiets down as the music begins and the Chair comes to announce each girl. He knew you'd be last, being the head. To the side, all of the dates are standing, awaiting the arrival of the girls. Your father is upstairs, with the other fathers to the right of the staircase. One by one the girls are called, the Chair talks about each of their accomplishments as she announces them and their fathers walk them down the steps, to be handed off to the teenage boys in tuxes.

The music changes as it's your turn prompting him and Julian to exchange a look.

"Does the head deb usually get different music?" he leans over to ask Julian.

Julian shakes his head, his lips pressed tightly together in a way that John can tell he's trying hard not to smile and incur his mother's wrath.

The Chair begins to list your litany of accomplishments as your father walks out from the right and awaits you. He sees you emerge, and a collective hush falls over the crowd. You aren't wearing one of the regulation cotillion dresses like every girl before you. You're wearing the dress that had taken his breath away yesterday. There's a smirk planted quite firmly on your face as your father takes your hand and helps you float down the stairs.

John is positive your father's grip on you had been iron tight in reaction to your dress. Your date - a boy named William who John knew only vaguely - looks elated however. He helps you onto the dance floor and the music changes once again, with all of the couples dancing. John sees Julian's fists tighten as William's hands sit a little lower on your back than they should, and your father doesn't bother coming to the table, instead making a beeline to the bar.

"She's insane," Julian whispers out of the corner of his mouth, the both of them watching you with some amount of awe. No one did this at a cotillion. No one.

"I'll buy you that brush set you've been eyeing if your mother manages to drink less than five vodka sodas tonight," he tells Julian, the two of them grinning at one another.

Your mother throws a glare at the both of them as she knocks back her drink.

"No deal," Julian whispers back. "I'm going to lose that in the next ten minutes."

Turning their attention back towards you, they both watch as you twirl around in William's arms. The first dance is endless and at some point your father made it back to the table, carrying a drink in each hand. Your mother gets up when your father returns, the two of them having a quick, quiet exchange, at which Julian rolls his eyes.

However, as the second song draws to a close, John finds himself standing and making his way towards you. It really should be your father or one of your brothers cutting in for the first time, but he figures he should spare you their reactions as long as possible. He reaches you and William, towering over the boy as he approaches, and taps him on the shoulder to cut in. William appears a little annoyed but still hands you over, turning to walk to the sidelines.

He turns to look at you - you're sporting a smirk a mile wide, your eyes twinkling. You're pleased he was the one who cut in first.

"What a surprise seeing you here, Mr. Hawthorne," you drawl, humor coloring your voice.

"Well, I had to make sure I danced with the prettiest girl at the ball, now didn't I?" he replies, reaching for your hand and placing his other to your waist. You jump ever so slightly at the touch of his warm fingers against your skin and he has to disguise his laugh as a slight cough. When you place your other hand to his shoulder, it was as though an electric current ran through him.

The music transitions seamlessly and he draws you close into a waltz. He's highly aware that the two of you have nearly a hundred eyes on you and he can tell you're loving it.

"Are all the biddies clutching their pearls in horror?" you ask him.

"Why'd you pick this dress?" he asks, instead of answering your question. You already knew the answer.

"You liked it, didn't you?"

He nods. He had liked it. However, that didn't answer his question, so he looks at you, eyebrow quirked, imploring you to explain further.

With a slight roll of your eyes, you huff delicately. "I'm tired of being the good girl, the perfect girl. I wanted to turn some heads. I think we can both agree that I have."

"Your mother is going to kill you," he murmurs next to your ear, a smirk matching yours on his face. You had indeed turned heads. Some more than others.

"Oh please. Did you know, yesterday, she told me that I was far too chubby to wear a dress like this."

He starts to disagree with that assessment - you were anything but and the dress fit you like a glove as though it were commissioned for you.

"It's okay," you reassure him. "She's just upset she can no longer pull off something like this."

He laughs at that.

He twirls and spins you out, before catching you in his arms again.

"You look beautiful," he tells you looking right into your eyes, as though compelled to.

The faintest of colors graces your cheeks and you look bashfully (for the first time that night) away from him, smiling.

"Thank you."

The music changes again and he's almost worried that someone is going to steal you away from him, yet no one does. He meets Julian's eye above your head, and his friend looks to be talking his parents down from making a scene. Julian gives him an exasperated look as though to say, You see what I put up with because of her.

He looks back at you, shaking his head. "You're trouble, you know that?"

"You love trouble," you tell him, your eyes shining, smirking up at him.

He can't help himself from smirking right back. "You're a tease," he whispers back his fingers caressing your back, before he can catch himself. You're too young, even though you may not look it anymore.

As though sensing his change in mood, you lean up to him, reaching his ear. "Don't worry. I know that we can't. That you can't."

He looks down at you, meeting your gaze, reassured that you understand. He nods, smiling his gratitude that you understand. He can't have this seem in any way improper. He's set to take the bar. He's set to clerk for McGuire. However your quiet words have their desired effect, and he can feel himself relaxing, comfortably dancing with you in his arms.

As he continues to lead you around the dance floor, he's becoming convinced of one thing - if tonight is anything to go on, he's going to want to fulfill his end of the deal.

*------------*

After your cotillion, he'd gone back and started studying for the bar - head down night after night. He couldn't afford distractions.

He got a call the day you got your Harvard acceptance letter. You received a bouquet of dahlias and a shipment from Laduree the following day, much to the collective jealousy of every one of your dormmates.

The day he passed the New York state bar, you were his first phone call.

You were graduating. You were graduating and you would be an adult in the eyes of your families and the law. The two of you had already planned an entire summer country hopping across Southeast Asia with Julian in tow. John would be lying if he said he was anything less than ecstatic.

Julian had uncharacteristically offered to pick him up from Heathrow instead of simply sending a car. Assuming he wanted to talk through the details of the trip the three of you were headed out to the following week, John threw his bag into the back cheerfully and got into the passenger seat. Europe was the only place he trusted Julian to drive. Getting in the passenger seat with Julian at the wheel in the states was the equivalent of signing a death wish.

"How was the flight?" Julian asks, merging across the lanes and pissing off some cabbies on the way.

"Fine," John replies, taking stock of his friend. He hadn't seen Julian since the cotillion early in the year and he couldn't help but notice that Jules looked thinner. His already lanky frame was positively beanstalk-like. "What's been up with you?"

Julian glances at him quickly, before turning his attention back to the front. "Anthony and I broke up," he says quickly, as if simply trying to get it out of the way.

Well, that explained the weightloss. Julian was a true artist at his core. He insisted that pain was meant to be felt. "I'm sorry man. What happened?"

"He took me to meet the parents. Then he wanted to meet mine. We fought. He issued an ultimatum. Here we are."

John nods sympathetically. Telling the parents was out of the question. Neither of your families were the kind who would be supportive and understanding. Julian stood to lose quite a bit if he chose to be honest.

"Y/N noticed too," he says, referring to his own frame.

"You should tell her at least." This was an old discussion for them. John insisted that you should know. That you wouldn't care nor tell anyone. However, Julian's fear - fear of losing you and fear of being ousted - overpowered any rationale he was able to provide.

Julian shakes his head. "Pretty sure my father has got his claws deep in there by now. I just told her I was doing an experiment on the body's reaction to starvation in order to channel it into my new piece."

John breathes out a laugh at that. "She buy it?"

"No, but our family's good at the whole Don't Ask Don't Tell thing. Pretty sure she's got secrets of her own she doesn't want anyone to know."

He nods, feeling the guilty coil of lying to Julian rouse itself once again. He'd beat himself up about it quite a bit after he'd kissed you by the pool, knowing Julian would kick the absolute shit out of him if he knew. He might not be able to take John on physically, but it wasn't as though John would be fighting back exactly.

"Speaking of," Julian begins, his voice low and quiet, yet assertive in a manner that reminds John of your father and his, "we need to talk about her."

John crosses his eyes over to look at his friend, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He couldn't possibly know anything. "What about her?" he asks, doing his best to sound nonchalant.

"Don't do that with me man. You might think you're fooling the rest of the world, but you're talking to someone whose entire life is a lie. You think I don't know pining when I see it?" Julian sounds less angry than he should, John thinks. If anything he sounds resigned. Reluctant to be having this conversation at all.

"I'm sor -"

"It doesn't matter." Julian cuts him off. "I don't care if something happened. What I need you to do is promise me that nothing ever will."

"I don't - "

"Let me make it as plain as possible," Julian says, his mouth a straight line, hands gripped tight around the steering wheel. "It's me or her. You choose to pursue this thing, take it any further, then that's it. You'll have made your choice."

John couldn't believe what he was hearing. Never - not when he'd first kissed you, not when he'd danced with you, not when he'd dreamed of… - had he thought that there would be a chance of him being at this point. This awful point where he's forced to choose between you and Julian. How was he supposed to choose between his best friend and you - how could he possibly be expected to make that decision. He never thought Julian of all people would ask this of him. He expected a beating, a cold shoulder for a couple of days - but at the end he expected it to work out. How could it not?

"So you're issuing an ultimatum?" he asks, swallowing the anger he can feel bubbling underneath.

Julian doesn't even turn to look at him. "Yeah. I guess I am."

"Just because you're miserable, you're setting out to make everyone else around you feel the same way?" he asks, ugly malice coloring his voice as he turns to look away from Julian. He couldn't stand to look at him at this moment.

"Don't make this about something it isn't. I'm looking out for my baby sister. She deserves to have a college experience that isn't tied to some older guy that's only going to make her feel guilty about experiencing the same stuff he did, but tenfold."

"I wouldn't do that to her," John says quietly. He can't believe Julian would even think that about him. That he would in some way hold you back from having anything you wanted.

"You might not, but she'd do it to herself for you," he says quietly. John can see his hands tremble ever so slightly at the wheel.

"So that’s it?"

"Yeah." Julian breathes out a sigh and turns down the street towards your school. "That's it."

The rest of the car ride passes in tense silence.

You were valedictorian, the cord hanging down your neck signifying you as such. When you'd told him that, he'd asked if you were giving a speech but you'd told him you could care less about standing up in front of people you're unlikely to see again and talking about the wonderful experiences and memories - it rang of fakery and you hadn't wanted to end on such a false note. You'd excused yourself from consideration, so the class president gave the speech instead.

John sat with your family. Julian's words still rang in his head and he was finding it difficult to focus on much of anything. He followed everyone else's lead, clapping when appropriate, while his mind was miles away.

Once the ceremony was over, he sees you making your way through the crowd towards everyone - eyes shining, hat askew, hair flowing behind you, the largest smile he's ever seen firmly in place. You hug your parents first, then Julian.

"John!"

You approach him for a hug and he finds himself turning just barely to meet Julian's eyes. He hugs you from the side, arm loosely around your shoulders, eyes barely meeting yours - over before he knows it. Completely unlike any other hug the two of you have shared.

You let go slowly, the confusion clearly painted on your face as you look up at his face to figure out what was wrong. He sees you look from him, follow his gaze to Julian, and then back to him.

You know.

He's not sure how he gets through the celebration dinner afterwards. Words sit oddly in his mouth and he is mostly silent throughout. He can't keep himself from watching you. You're pretending everything is fine. It's your graduation and this should've been a good day. A happy day. And somehow he's pushed you into pretending.

It's late that night when there's a quiet knock at his door and the knob turns before he can say anything. He knows it’s you.

"Hey," you say, closing the door behind you. You're dressed in a little pajama set - navy blue with polka dots, the shorts covering you decently. It's cute, he finds himself thinking.

He gets up to sit at the edge of the bed, not trusting himself to say anything. He only watches as you walk and sit on the chair in the corner, instead of on the bed next to him, eyes trained on him.

"Julian said no, didn't he?" you ask, your voice smaller than he's used to.

He nods.

You're sitting so far away. He sees you swallow and look away from him.  It's quiet for a couple of minutes as you look out the window, processing what he's told you.

"Maybe it's for the best," you whisper, turning back to look at him.

How could the best be anything but you?

But it's his job to be the adult - to be the reasonable one. He can't deny that there's some merit to what Julian said even if he did do it as an ultimatum.

"You'll get to enjoy college. Live it up. Go to frat parties and get drunk and not worry about some older boyfriend waiting on you or judging you."

You laugh softly at that, rolling your eyes delicately. "Please. You and I both know that you'd just tag along."

He smiles. He would.

"You should date other people. You should experience love and heartbreak and all the stuff in between with someone who hasn't known you forever. It'll be new and exciting - you deserve to have a full college experience."

You agree. It makes sense. Especially given the completely different stages of life the two of you were about to embark on.

"Papa asked me to tag along with him this summer - he has some business in Europe and Latin America. I think I'm going to say yes. You and Julian go on the trip. It'll be good for you."

"It's your graduation trip," he protests.

You shrug. "There will be other trips. I think Julian needs you right now more than I do."

"What makes you say that?" he asks, eyebrow quirked in confusion. As far as he knew, Julian hadn't come clean to you yet.

"He said he broke up with some girl - Antoinette, I guess. He's seemed miserable lately and I think he's probably just heartbroken and miserable - he could use his best friend. His best friend who is there just for him."

He finds himself smiling in spite of himself. He's not sure he could've been this unselfish in your shoes. "Anyone ever tell you you're too mature for your age?"

You let out a soft breath of a laugh at that. "Have you met my family? Someone has to be."

He stands finally, walking to meet you at the chair. You look so incredibly small sitting there, that he finds himself kneeling down in front of you. You don't wait, simply launching yourself onto him - making up for the mediocre hug from earlier. You slip off of the chair, legs bent and splayed across his thighs as he catches you. It's all he can do to hold you tight against him, head buried in your hair, breathing you in.

You can feel his heart beating underneath as he holds you close to him. This wasn't how today was supposed to go. It should've been wonderful - the two of you, finally together after months of talking, teasing, overthinking - it should've been easy. He should've grabbed you in his arms in front of everyone and kissed you right then and there - it's how you'd imagined it would go all those nights laying in bed, listening to the sound of your dormmates snoring. That first kiss - that had been everything you'd needed then, the memory of it carrying you through the rest of the school year as you turned away boy after boy, content to live with the mere echo of that kiss reverberating through you.

High school was just something to get through. College was meant to be perfect, freedom, and John. John, who made everything else perfect by simply being there with you. John, who had been the reason you'd kept your head down and done everything asked of you - so that no one could hold anything against you when the inevitability of you and John materialized. The two of you had done everything right. You'd waited. You'd waited and waited until it could be proper, until it would be accepted. It had been torture and the only thing that had carried you through it had been the knowledge that one day very soon, you'd have him.

You can feel your eyes welling up as it really starts to sink in - this wasn't going to happen. You and John were not going to happen.

You shift slightly, moving back from where your head has been tucked into the crook of his neck while you straddle him on the floor. He looks at you, with his deep blue eyes threaded with strands of caramel, that never fail to imbue you with warmth. You reach up to touch his cheek, thumb grazing his cheekbone, feeling the little stubble that's started to appear. Your eyes leave his and roam to the pink of his lips and before you know it, you've leaned up, capturing them with yours. There is the barest of pauses, before his hold on you tightens exquisitely, pushing you up, closer to him, the barest of growls from the back of his throat as he deepens the kiss. This was entirely unlike your first kiss. John claimed your lips as though he couldn't bear to be apart from them for even a moment, his hands leaving tingles of sensation everywhere they went. You let go with a sharp gasp, and a soft moan escapes him that you can't help but want to taste, as you meet his mouth again, again, and again until you forget if the air you're breathing is even your own.

When you finally leave, it's with a quick goodbye, lips just barely pressed to his cheek. He finds himself reaching up to touch the spot on his face that you'd grazed, hoping to keep it there forever.

*------------*

Dominic had kept all the guys out late the previous night, fully invested in making the most of his final day as a bachelor. John had made it back in one piece, thankfully, but had awoken to a migraine. The water and painkillers left for him on the nightstand serving as his only solace.

He'd had the immense pleasure of meeting Matthew for the first time. He'd heard through the grapevine that you were dating some guy, but Matthew had not been what he expected at all. He was cocky, a showboat, and had an ego the size of Texas. If anything, Matthew was the exact opposite of the kind of guy he'd thought you'd ever date.

You'd come back from college for the weekend wedding, Matthew in tow. The rest of your family was busy with last minute wedding stuff, so John had been tasked with greeting everyone. The Costello family had sent Frank Costello's son to represent the family, and as he happened to go to school with you, he'd also tagged along. You'd walked in, your face scrunched up in exasperation, the two boys trailing behind with the luggage. You'd hugged him quickly before introducing both of the boys, and John had had to control the flash of anger he felt when Matthew wrapped a meaty arm around your waist, squeezing it tight, and hinted at the two of you going to take a nap. You'd seemed a little embarrassed, and tried to laugh it off, but John could tell that had made you uncomfortable.

As you all start to walk down the hallway towards the rooms he's pointed everyone to, Ricky lingers, meeting his eye briefly. "If you're wondering what she sees in him, you're not alone," he says under his breath so only John can hear.

He had a feeling him and Ricky would get along just fine.

His initial impression of Matthew was only confirmed later during the bachelor party that had gone on far too late. He'd told Dominic and Julian that he'd stay more or less sober to make sure there weren't any issues, and had found himself nursing a drink off to the side with Julian and Ricky, watching the women dancing up on the stage. Him and Julian had tried to push for a poker and steak bachelor party, but Dom had gone and rented out an entire burlesque club. The night had simply gone downhill from there, and John was convinced that if any of the wives or girlfriends knew what took place there, there would be more than a couple of broken relationships.

Julian excuses himself after a while, stating the need to grab a smoke, so John is left with Ricky who had turned out to be a good egg. Why couldn't you have dated him? That he could've understood.

Both him and Ricky had looked up as Matthew walks past them, led by some girl. Matthew sees the two of them staring at him. "You'd do it too if your girlfriend didn't put out either," he'd slurred, half drunk as the girl continued to lead him towards the private rooms in the back.

John shares a look of with Ricky. "Good for her," Ricky mutters, his jaw tight, indicating at the bartender for another drink.

Nodding to where they'd seen Matthew disappear, Johns asks, "Is that normal?"

"Couldn't tell you," Ricky replies, "We aren't exactly close. I hear things, but don't really know what to believe."

John forces himself to take a deep breath and remember that it wasn't any of his business to interfere with your relationship. You were an adult and could handle it. If this is how Matthew is, then he doubted you were entirely unaware. He really hoped you weren't. However, that begged the question - why on earth were you with this guy?

He'd gotten dressed in the grey suit that the groomsmen were wearing and gone downstairs to grab breakfast. The ceremony would be taking place in the afternoon, and the entire place was a flurry of activity. He caught a glimpse of you racing down the hallway in a robe, calling out to him to make sure that Dom and Julian were up and ready.

After he'd gone through each guy's room and made sure the entire bridal party was accounted for, he'd ended up doing a couple more last minute things that Katie's mother asked of him. With only an hour before the ceremony, John made his escape, leaving Julian in charge of Dom. He needs a breather.

He finds himself on the upstairs balcony, overlooking the large grass lawn where the chairs are assembled and guests would be arriving soon. Taking out a cigarette, he lights it and takes a drag, feeling his shoulders untense for the first time since he's woken up.

"Are you hiding?"

He turns at the sound of your voice. You're dressed in a blush pink gown that flows to the ground, hair done up - a couple of strands framing your face. You're smiling, the soft smile that graces your face and the sparkle that enters your eyes - the smile he knows that you save for him.

"Hey Cap. What're you doing here?" he asks, smiling softly at you, as you walk towards him.

"Needed a break," you admit. "Katie's great, but her sorority sisters are a bit too much energy for me right now."

He lets out a chuckle at that.

You reach him, grabbing the cigarette easily out of his hand, and bring it to your own lips as you lean against the pillar in front of him with an air of ease.

"How was last night?" you ask him, letting out a puff of smoke, before passing it back to him.

He thinks about your question. Should he warn you about Matthew? Was it his place to do that? He should, he thinks - he'd want to know if he was in your shoes. You deserved to have someone better.

He feels you nudge him, as you shift to lean over the balcony by his side. You're looking at him in question as he's been silent since you asked.

"If I say something, promise not to take it the wrong way?" he asks, hesitation layered in his voice.

Your brow furrows slightly, but you nod, prompting him to go on.

"Matthew - do you like him?"

"Why're you asking me that?"

John swallows as he looks down at you next to him with your eyes narrowed slightly. "He's not as…discreet as he should be," he manages out, doing his best to convey his concern but still keep it polite.

You barely react at that. You either know or don't care and he's willing to bet it’s the former - you would definitely care to have a partner that was considerate and tactful rather than one whose words and actions were circumspect in the public eye.

"Did he say something specific that has you concerned?" You don't meet his eyes, turning to look out at the lawn, where ushers are starting to seat some early guests.

John shifts a bit on his feet, unsure of how to phrase it. "He - um - he said something about you not putting out," he blurts out, stuttering through it like some prepubescent boy. He really shouldn't be feeling quite so awkward about this, and yet he does.

He hears you sigh - then feels you slump slightly and he turns and looks at you, relieved you aren't upset with him and worried all over again because you just look sad.

"I'm just not ready," you confess, looking up at him.

He shakes his head. "You don't owe me an explanation. I just thought you'd want to know, that's all."

You nod, eyes shifting from his, down to the ground.

It's quiet for a bit as the two of you pass the cigarette back and forth, watching more guests arrive and take their seats.

"Do you even like this guy?" he asks, unable to help himself from repeating his initial question. You hadn't answered it really.

You let out the barest of laughs, a sad smile settling on your face as you turn your head to look at him. "He's not you."

John feels his heart clench. The two of you didn't talk about it anymore, having swept it under the rug for Julian's sake and to maintain a semblance of normalcy for everyone else.

"We should go," you say before he has a chance to speak. "Katie will want us both there for pictures soon." You shake your head slightly as if to clear it, and he sees you force a larger smile to your face before you reach for his hand, leading him back inside.

Your hand feels incredibly small in his and he allows himself to be led by you.

The two of you walked down the aisle together, your hand tucked into his elbow, a bouquet held in the other.

He watched you dance late into the night. You danced with everyone - Julian, Ricky, and him, both Dom and Katie, your father and his.

He knocks back his drink as the musicians call for the final song of the night. You and Matthew sway together, your hair still perfectly in place, head rested on Matthew's shoulder, heels long ago shed off and forgotten under some table.

The music swells around him as he drinks slowly. He missed you. He didn't just miss you when he was alone. He missed you when he was surrounded by people. He missed your laugh through the din of laughter. He missed your smile amongst the sea of smiling faces. He missed the little jokes you'd make that were meant just for him. He missed the way your hand would squeeze his out of the blue, reminding him that it was your hand held tightly in his. He missed your very essence that used to bathe him in the feeling of light and air and you. Overwhelmingly you. Extensively you. You had saturated his very being with your presence.

Now, he simply felt bereft.

*------------*

Everyone had just sat down to Thanksgiving dinner at the van Dorens' place - John's parents had been invited to his mother's side of the family and John had begged off spending another holiday with the grandparents he couldn't stand. Say what you would about your families, at least they could have fun and relax when the occasion called for it. He'd instead coordinated his vacation with Julian's return and found himself tagging along to dinner at your boyfriend's parents' home.

That had not been the original plan. Him and Julian had gotten in the day before, however you'd been delayed on campus and hadn't made it back until Thanksgiving morning. You'd walked in, your skirt breezing around your legs, looking every bit as beautiful as ever. You'd greeted everyone and when you'd hugged him hello, you'd held it for a second longer than expected. "Can we talk tonight, after dinner?" you had asked, your voice low so that no one else could've heard. He'd nodded subtly, covering it up with a smile, as everyone sat down to breakfast. That was when your mother had announced that you'd all be going to the van Doren house for Thanksgiving dinner. That was news to everyone - even you, it would appear. You clearly hadn't known that dinner would be hosted at Matthew's home. You'd asked your mother when that had happened, however she'd insisted that that had always been the plan and that you and Julian must've forgotten. That was how he'd found himself seated next to Julian and across from you at the van Doren home. Had he known this would be where he'd end up tonight, he would've suffered through another retelling of his grandfather's World War II recollections about taking down the "Japs". It didn't matter how often John said you couldn't talk like that anymore - his political correctness fell on deaf ears.

The van Dorens had now been present for a few events over the past two years since Dominic and Katie's wedding, yet John hadn't warmed up to Matthew at all in that time. He would've thought he was being biased about it, but Julian didn't like him either and made no effort to be discreet with his distaste of the boy. He wasn't even a boy really. He'd swooped in on an eighteen year old while being a fifth year senior. The guy was barely a couple of years younger than him. John and Julian had both took the mickey out of you when he hadn't managed to get into any decent law school and had to bribe his way into Boston's program because he'd wanted to stay nearby. John was of the opinion that Matthew knew very well that he wouldn't last through anything long distance with you - there'd be far too many options available at your fingertips without his meatball self standing in the way.

A pregnant Katie - who was absolutely glowing - was seated next to you, the two of you chatting about her upcoming baby shower. He'd watched earlier over cocktails, as you touched Katie's stomach gingerly - as though worried you'd hurt her - with the softest of smiles and your eyes widened in awe. It appeared you and Dominic were finally getting along with one another, as you were planning on spending part of your winter holidays with him and Katie out in California.

"John, I heard from Agnes Mayweather that you and Cecelia have been seeing one another again. How is that going?"

John looks up at your mother's question and notes your look of slight surprise. He hadn't yet told you that he had started seeing Cece again - it hadn't been that long and it simply hadn't come up organically in conversation yet. Since his move from DC to New York, he'd been looking for old friends to hang out with, and him and Cece had simply fallen together again easily.

"It's good," he responds with a smile. "Her family does Thanksgiving in Europe every year, so that's where she is right now."

"Who's Cece?" Katie asks, a smile on her face, eyes curious. In her entire time with Dom, she had never seen John mention a girl with any semblance of seriousness.

"His date for cotillion," you supply, a bemused expression on your face. John's not sure what to make of it exactly - were you upset he hadn't told you he was dating someone? Or dating Cece? As far as he knew, you and Cece got along just fine, in the limited interactions you'd had together.

"You must've been like - what - eight or nine then?" Matthew asks from your other side, putting his arm around the back of your chair.

"She was nine, yeah. Only person under the age of sixteen who was even allowed to attend," John says, a small smile on his face as he remembers the sight of your nine year old self, sitting at a table all alone, eating cake and watching everyone else dance.

"You always have liked doing all the grown up things, haven't you?" Matthew comments with a short laugh as you roll your eyes, yet allow him to grab your hand that's been resting on the table.

One day, John hopes that seeing someone else have and hold you won't cause that sharp stabbing feeling in his chest. One day could not come fast enough.

The dinner continues and the drinks flow, the food transitioning from turkey and mashed potatoes, to pies and pastries. He sees the large tray of tiramisu you'd brought with you, and grabs a large square for himself. To say he was addicted would be selling it short. You and Matthew both had a slice of his mother's pumpkin pie in front of you. Funny - he thought you hated pumpkin pie.

The sudden clinking of silverware against glass catches everyone's attention, and John turns to look at Matthew, who is standing, wine glass raised as though to make a toast. Every single person turns to him as well, and John can't help but notice your slightly furrowed brow as you look up at him.

"Thank you all, for being here today," Matthew begins in a booming voice that carries across the long table. "I want to take the chance today and appreciate the woman who has been by my side these past few years, the most beautiful woman I've ever known." All eyes turn to you, and your face has colored under the attention, as Matthew continues. "The day I run for Congress, I want you to be the woman standing behind me, supporting me. Y/N, darling, will you make me the happiest man in the world, by saying yes to being my bride?" he asks, a ring in hand as he looks down at you expectantly.

A tense buzz of silence has fallen across the table at the conclusion of Matthew's speech. You appear to be in shock and he can't tell if it's a good surprise or bad. Julian won't meet his eyes, looking only down at his lap instead of across at you. And, if John isn't mistaken, he sees your father nod imperceptibly so, out of the corner of his eye.

You nod shakily, before a large smile breaks out on your face. "Yes, of course." John watches as Matthew pulls you up out of the chair, pushing the ring onto your finger, and presses a kiss to your lips in front of everyone, as the rest of the table breaks out into excited cheers or claps. John can't believe what just happened. You were only twenty one years old! He couldn't believe you'd agreed to marry Matthew of all people - the guy who had proposed by asking you to stand behind him while he ran for Congress. What the hell was wrong with you?

He turns to look at Julian while the rest of the party offers both you and Matthew their congratulations, Katie examines the giant gaudy ring on your finger, and your mother cries, patting her tears away with a handkerchief. Julian, however, has disappeared in the commotion, and John is left to sit there and take in the new state of the world before him.

It is late that night by the time everyone returns to your family home. There had been a lot of people gushing at you and Matthew, a lot of photographs, however at the end of the day you'd chosen to come home with the rest of them. Your parents weren't particularly keen on you spending the night at your fiancé's home due to the optics, even though everyone of course turned the other way and didn't ask any questions when the two of you traveled together.

Your parents had retired to bed nearly immediately, both of them hugging you and telling you how very proud and happy they were due to your engagement. The rest of you had ended up in the study, where Dom and Katie talked to you about potential wedding venues in the Napa Valley. John listened along and added in comments passively, trying to cover for how completely disengaged Julian was from the conversation. Eventually, the two of them left to go to bed as well, Dom helping his wife up and out of the study, shutting the door behind, leaving just you, John, and Julian in the room.

It's quiet for a while as you get up to fix yourself another drink, eyebrow raised in question at the both of them. John shook his head. He wanted to stick to the single drink he'd been nursing since he had sat down. Julian hadn't noticed your question, having stared straight out the window, to the pool in the backyard.

"Are you really going to marry him?" Julian asks, turning away from the window to face you, breaking the silence.

You appear taken aback as you turn from the bar cart, having poured yourself a vodka soda. "What kind of question is that?"

"A serious one. Tell me honestly, that if he hadn't asked you at Thanksgiving dinner in front of everyone - if he'd asked you last week at school or after the two of you got back to Boston - tell me you would've still said yes then." Julian's turned to face you, both his voice and face intensely directed at you as you're perched on the arm of the chair next to John.

He sees you falter and cover it up by taking a sip of your drink. "I don't know. Who knows what would have happened. I said yes - that's what actually happened. What matters," you reply with a definitive set to your voice, unable to look Julian in the eye for longer than a second.

John turns to you fully. That wasn't the right answer to that question - it should've been an enthusiastic, no holds barred yes. Instead it was…whatever that was.

"You know his mother flinches whenever his father walks by her, right?" Julian asks, exchanging a look with John as he does. They'd talked about that before, how Mrs. van Doren seems terrified of her husband in a manner entirely unfamiliar to the both of them. Their mothers didn't cower from their fathers that way.

You appraise them both before you speak. "I'm not her and Matthew is not his father," you state firmly. "That is my future family, and you shouldn't speak about them like that," you declare, as though trying to steer the conversation to a close. John can tell you'd been aware of that - you've always been fairly observant so he isn't entirely surprised.

Julian stands up all of a sudden, causing both of you to look at him curiously. He walks to the window, looking out at the backyard before he speaks again. "You do realize that the dinner with the van Dorens - Mother lied. That wasn't always the plan. It only became the plan yesterday because it was decided that Matthew would propose to you tonight."

"Okay…so what? My boyfriend decided to propose to me. What's the big deal?" Both you and John look at one another in confusion, and then at Julian, prompting him to speak further.

"Did you notice that Papa and Mr. van Doren went off to his study for drinks afterwards? That Dom wasn't invited?" Julian asks, head still facing the backyard.

You stand up, setting your drink down on the table, and cross your arms over your chest. "What're you getting at Julian? Just come right out and say whatever it is you're trying to say."

Julian turns away from the window finally, instead choosing to lean against it, facing you. "He made the Singapore deal with them. With the van Dorens. Matthew proposing to you was part of the exchange."

There's a tense silence and John can hear you take a sharp inhale as you process what Julian had just revealed. "The only reason he'd need the van Dorens for Singapore is if - is if you said no to the Waldorf girl," you speak hesitantly, your breathing more shallow than before. John notices your hand twist the ring around your finger.

Julian says nothing.

"You said no? Why would you do that?" You slowly walk towards Julian, where he still stands near the window. John feels like he should leave, but there really wasn't an easy way to do that now. "This is the third girl Julian," you continue softly. "Mother and Papa wouldn't set you up with someone awful. They'd find someone who would be there for you, by your side."

Julian scoffs, brushing past you and going to stand at the other side of the room, opposite you, his face contorted with disbelief. "That's what you're focused on? The fact that I said no? Not the fact that your father SOLD you?" he yells suddenly, and John worries someone in the house will wake up and overhear this conversation.

You look as though he'd slapped you. "Don't - don't say it like that." Your voice breaks pathetically, and John has the immediate urge to tell off Julian for talking to you that way. But he knows better. He should stay out of it. In truth, he really shouldn't be present at all.

"How else am I supposed to phrase it?" Julian sneers at you, throwing his arms up. "He sold you like you were property - like a whore he could pimp out to sweeten to pot. Is that better?" he spits out, fully enraged and pacing towards you.

John pushes up from his seat quickly, fully set to calm Julian down and get him away from you. This wasn't the way to do this, even if Julian was telling the truth. He's stopped however, but your hand grasping his wrist. He turns and sees you shake your head.

Julian turns to look at the both of you, his eyes focused on where your hand is wrapped around John's wrist. "What about John?" he asks, his eyes shifting down, away from you. "Thought you wanted to end up with him one day," he says, gesturing at your joined hands.

You let go of John's wrist as though it had scalded you. There's a charged silence ringing in his ears and John cannot believe Julian had brought that up. It had been four long years and you'd both tried very hard to move past it. John's suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. How had they come to this? It should have been about helping you see that maybe Matthew wasn't entirely right - how had his name gotten dragged into it?

Your jaw has dropped as you look at Julian, eyes widened in shock. You let out a breath of disbelief, shaking your head, at a complete loss for words. The three of you did not talk about that, ever. You and Julian especially had never even acknowledged it.

You open your mouth to say something, but John beats you to it. "What the hell, man." He's looking at Julian in complete shock is heart racing - the two of them had never talked about it afterwards save for that one drunken night in Barcelona when Julian had apologized for being selfish and wanting to have his friend all to himself. John had ended up reassuring him that the two of you had made the decision together, and the timing of it all, the different stages of life you had been about to embark on, all would've made things too difficult. Had things not worked out between the two of you due to the circumstances alone - neither one of you could bear to do that to the other. What Julian had done was likely for the best. Julian hadn't remembered any part of the conversation the following morning.

Julian appears slightly ashamed as he is unable to meet both of your eyes, realizing that he'd crossed a line.

You're trying very hard to maintain your composure and John can see the shimmer of tears glazing your eyes. It's quiet for a moment more as he watches you gather your wits about you, your hands shaking ever so slightly, the only sound in the room coming from both your forced controlled breathing and Julian's erratic ones.

"Let me make something perfectly clear to you," you grit out, eyes fiery and blazing at Julian. "You, of all people, do not get to throw that in my face. You made your decision four years ago, and so did we." Your voice is cold and John feels a shiver run through him at a cold fury that isn't even directed fully at him. You look from Julian, to John, who meets your eyes for barely a second, before looking away. You'd both chosen Julian over one another.

Julian looks only at the ground.

What had been the point of Julian saying no to the two of you four years ago if he was going to suddenly be alright with it in the face of you marrying Matthew? However, it seemed as though you didn't even care about that - you'd simply brushed past it already and John is left reeling, thinking through the implications of what both you and Julian had put out there. Julian didn't care. Unfortunately for him, it appeared neither did you.

"If you'd just say yes - " he hears your voice again, through the din in his head that is trying to make sense of everything,  as you carry on, still intent on talking to Julian, intent on ignoring what he'd just brought up as if it meant so little. John isn't sure how you possibly could ignore it - he hasn't been able to think of anything else since, Julian's words echoing over and over in his brain.

"To marrying someone I do not love? For some business deal? Ruin my life for that?" he roars at you snapping out of his silent shame, swiping his hand across one of the end tables and sliding the old lamp off of it. The three of you watch as it crashes to the floor and breaks, emitting a crash. You flinch when it hits the floor.

John turns to you and there are silent tears streaming down your face as you stare at Julian in utter shock. It's gone too far - this whole thing. John feels like a voyeur - like he's intruding on his parents breaking up or something.

"For the family!" you scream, your voice a whispered shout as you're still mindful of how late it is. Far more so than Julian had been. "You do it for the family Julian! I did it for you when I gave you John, because you needed him. You were asked to do something that helps the family, you should've just done it. You don't just run away and ignore all responsibility and obligation. You step up, be a man, and do what's asked of you."

Julian looks at you with disgust coloring his features. "Well excuse me if I have a little more self respect than that," he says, entirely bypassing what you'd said about John as though you had never even said it at all. It was as though he didn't even care - didn't realize - how awful and heartbreaking of a sacrifice he'd forced upon you. And yet, you'd done it - for him.

You look away from him, and John can feel the frustration and anger cascading off of you in waves, tinged by something else he can't quite discern, but he thinks it might be…fear. "How much longer do you expect Papa to let you get away with this? He isn't exactly known for being patient. Sooner or later there will be repercussions. He's been lenient long enough." Your voice is hoarse as you swallow your tears and fury.

You're all aware of your father's reputation - cold, calculating, and merciless. You all know the kind of person Julian was choosing to challenge and while his wrath towards his children had its limits, it had quite a stretch of runway before it reached its end. Julian was playing with fire by continuing on his current path.

Julian appraises you and appears to consider your words, before his eyes land on the large ring adorning your hand, reinvigorating the fight within him. "Then I suppose I'll wait till that day. Until then, I won't just lie down and spread my legs for whomever," he jeers at you.

"Enough." John's finally reached his limit with the entire argument, his jaw clenched tightly and a thunder-struck expression marring the rest of his features as he fully comprehends how far Julian has strayed. "You can't talk to her that way," he states firmly, positioning himself between the two of you.

Julian looks at him, a manic glint in his eyes. A derisive laugh escapes him, bouncing off the walls. "Didn't realize she still did it for you. Isn't twenty one a little old for your tastes?"

"FUCK OFF, Julian." You can scarcely believe him. How could he talk to John like that?

"With pleasure," he scoffs, looking from you, to John, and then turns the knob on the door and slams it shut behind him, leaving just you and John standing in the study by yourselves.

John watches as you pull yourself together. He wants to go to you and hold you and tell you that Julian was just being a dick. But part of him agrees with Julian - especially if he's telling the truth about how it all came together. Part of him also feels the sting of what Julian implied about him despite how untrue it is. So he holds himself apart as the two of you stare at one another in the wake of the deafening silence left behind by Julian's exit.

John watches as you wipe away the remaining tears and bend to gather the broken pieces of the lamp, sweeping away the evidence of Julian's rage. You walk and grab the lamp sitting in the far corner of the room, replacing the broken one. John can do nothing but watch.

"Why did you say yes?" he asks finally, unable to stop himself.

You blink, not having expected that from him and he watches as you bite your lower lip between your teeth, quietly thinking over his question, your fingers twisting the ring around your finger in earnest. Your tongue pokes out and licks the spot your teeth had worried moments earlier. He feels entirely scrutinized under your gaze. With a short exhale, you answer, "Because he asked."

Before he can say anything more, you've followed Julian's example and walked out the door, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the study.

He never did find out what it had been that you'd wanted to talk to him about after dinner. The next morning it was as though nothing had transpired at all. You and Julian weren't speaking, and John found he had very little to say himself.

*------------*

Julian had flown out to Boston the week after you'd left. John had figured the two of you would make up eventually, and he was glad he hadn't been wrong about that, though he and Julian had argued once again about him simply telling you the truth of why he kept turning away set ups with women. Julian was staunchly against it still, even more so now that you'd agreed to marry Matthew and didn't appear to be wavering in your decision at all. The two of them simply didn't address anything else Julian had said, and John decided that was likely for the best.

The holidays had passed uneventfully - he'd spent it mostly with Cece, only seeing you and Julian the day after Christmas when everyone gathered at your parents' home to exchange presents and for everyone to meet baby Amara. He watched as you sat in the large chair in the living room, holding Amara in your hands as she slept, Matthew perched on the arm of the chair. He can't help but smile - you'd be a good mother, even if yours hadn't been.

The call regarding Julian's death had come in mid-February, Dom on the other end telling him that Julian had been victim to a mugging gone wrong. The funeral had been held back in Connecticut, Julian's body shipped back. Your parents had opted for a closed casket, so John was left to remember December 26th - the last time he'd seen his best friend in person.

His eyes searched for you at the funeral, and when he saw you, it was as though you weren't even there. Your father had been the one to stand and speak - he would've thought it would be you. Julian would've preferred that, he was sure. He'd gone through the line of people offering their condolences robotically, inching along behind his father. As he approached, he sees your eyes look up - first at his father, who hugs you quickly, and then at him. He can't move. He's frozen. He sees your lower lip tremble - he hadn't yet seen you shed a single tear - you'd stood stoically by to your parents the entire prior hour and a half that he'd observed you.

It's as though he moves on autopilot, his hand reaching out for yours - it was good that he had, as you had nearly tripped forward into him, your arms wrapped tiredly around his shoulders. He's quick to usher you away, into the back room where Sunday School classes are typically held.

Your body shakes against him in silent sobs as tears cascade down. He's unsure how, but the two of you had ended up on the brightly patterned carpet of the classroom, his legs spread out in front of him and you're situated on his lap as close to his chest as possible as your body is wracked with sobs. He clutches you tightly to him, holding you close and allowing you to fall apart the way you needed to. He'd hold it together for the both of you.

When his mother peaks in to the room, he signals her away. It was likely due to her that no one else bothers the two of you again. You say nothing and neither does he. When you finally calm down, his fingers brush away the remaining tears on your face and he feels you reach up and do the same to him. He hadn't realized he'd cried as well.

He helps you up and the two of you walk out. He watches as you approach Matthew, who wraps an arm around your shoulder and looks at him with what could almost be classified as gratitude. Matthew wasn't equipped to deal with this.

*------------*

He hears you'd been in an accident only a month or so afterwards. He's in the middle of a deposition and unable to go in person. He hears from his mother that you'd gone through some surgery but were otherwise alright. There was something in her voice that gave him some pause, but he hadn't had the time to press further.

He sent a bouquet of dahlias along with a Get Well Soon card.

*------------*

You're set to graduate and he's not sure if he should go. His father had asked him over a few weeks prior and told him that Julian's death hadn't been accidental. He didn't know what to believe anymore.

He doesn't go. He's not quite ready to see you again yet.

Julian was dead. What was there really to do?

*------------*

"So eventually, the guy calms down enough after I explain that the fire alarm on the gallery wall wasn't an art piece and not for sale, but only after he made poor Lucille cry, can you believe it?"

John laughs, shaking his head. "Lucille's easy to make cry though, you have to admit." he says, handing Cece the glass of wine he'd just poured.

She laughs, and is about to launch into another story, as the doorbell rings. "I'll get it," she says, leaving him in the kitchen to finish loading the dishwasher.

A minute or so later, he hears footsteps and turns to see Cece, followed by you. He hadn't seen you since Julian's funeral, and there you stood in his kitchen, entirely soaked from the rain outside, having dripped water on the floors on your way in.

"Y/N said she needed to speak with you," Cece supplies, breaking him out of the stupor his brain had entered at the sight of you. "I think I'm going to head out, let the two of you talk."

John simply nods, not thinking to ask her to stay or even thank her. The two of you stare at one another, and he finds himself entirely uncomfortable being alone with you, for the very first time.

"Let me grab you a towel," he manages, indicating you towards the couch in the living room. He walks to the linens cabinet in the back and by the time he returns, you've shed your jacket and are facing away from him in a light tank top, revealing your shoulders and a large fading bruise off to one side.

He wordlessly hands you the towel and watches as you squeeze the water out of your hair, wet tendrils clinging to the side of your face. You still haven't spoken a single word and he finds himself at a loss to say much of anything. He knows you graduated a couple of weeks prior and he knows his father had attended, not wanting to miss his god daughter's graduation ceremony. He wonders briefly if his father had decided to enlighten you as to the true nature of Julian's death, and comes to the conclusion that he had. Why else would you be there?

"How'd that happen?" he asks, breaking the silence as you had turned away from him to slip out of your boots, indicating towards the bruise he'd seen.

You look over your shoulder at him with your eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't worry about it." you reply, turning around and holding up your hand, showing him your empty ring finger. "Waited till Singapore was a done deal, and I ended it."

John lets out a deep breath of disbelief. Matthew had hurt you so much that you had a bruise traversing the length of your upper back. What the hell had he done to you? He can feel the rage and surge of protectiveness that he typically feels around you, storming in his head, and as though you could sense his shift, you place a feather light touch to his arm. "It's alright. I'm fine. Ricky already broke his nose."

That doesn't cause him to worry any less whatsoever. Things had been so bad that Ricky had broken the bastard's nose. A rogue snort escapes him regardless, as he tries to calm himself. Now wasn't the time to get riled up about Matthew - especially if he was history. "Always did like that Ricky kid," he says instead, in an attempt to not slip back into silence. The silence had been wildly uncomfortable and now that it had been broken, he was intent on keeping it that way.

You're toweling off your wet hair as you watch him, your eyes appraising him and then turning to look around at his place. He saw his loft through your eyes - the exposed brick and open floorplan. His bed off to the other side, sheets still rumpled from when Cece had been over. It had been his attempt to tone down his lifestyle - girls got odd ideas when he'd take them back to the company owned apartment he'd stayed in the first couple of months after his internship wrapped with McGuire.

"Really bought into the whole Brooklyn hipster thing, didn't you?" you say, your tone colored with a hint of humor he hadn't expected.

John lets out a half laugh, knowing it wasn't quite your taste. Whatever had brought you to his door despite the pouring rain outside seemed far away at the moment.

"You want something to drink? Eat?" he asks, gesturing you over to the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of water and sets it on the counter for you.

You follow, hopping onto the island as he busies himself with putting the dishes away again, knowing you'll talk once you're ready. It's quiet for a couple of minutes - the only sounds coming from the rain outside and the movement from him working his way through the rest of the load. He looks outside, feeling a small bit of guilt for letting Cece leave in this weather. He'd have to make it up to her later.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask finally, as he puts the final plate in and shuts the dishwasher.

The question finally vocalized was far less angry than anticipated. He’d expected fury and rage raining down upon him for keeping the truth from you. He’d expected having to beg for your forgiveness. This quiet line of questioning felt alarmingly wrong to him. John turns, leaning against the opposite counter, his shoulders hunched together, arms crossed in front of his chest. You're still seated on the island, legs dangling, palms pressed into the granite, knuckles tensed around the edge. He looks up to meet your eyes and his voice catches as he does - you've dropped the veil you'd worn when you first arrived, revealing the unbridled pain underneath. Glassy eyes follow his, searching for some sort of answer - some explanation that would help make sense of your world that had been turned upside down.

"I -," he sighs deep, trying to gather his thoughts all together but they keep slipping out of his hands like sand. "I didn't think you'd - you'd believe me or what good it would do," he manages out, unable to look up at you, instead settling for fixing his gaze to where Matthew's ring used to sit. There was still a white ring there, the surrounding skin a couple of shades darker.

You're silent in the face of his confession. He hadn't wanted to be the one to turn your life upside down. He hadn't wanted to be the reason you questioned everything. He should've. He knows that. He'd been a coward, running away from it all. Unwilling to shoulder the responsibility of the fall out. He can't help but feel like he's joined the list of men who have completely let you down.

“Did you know - did you always know ab - about Julian?” you ask, eyes downcast as you struggle to put your question into words.

John can imagine the hurt you must’ve felt when you finally learned Julian’s life long secret. How that must have eaten away at you, made you question what you’d done to frighten Julian into never telling you. How many puzzle pieces must have fallen together - the fact that Julian never once brought home a girl, how he never once expressed interest in anyone openly, every refusal to marry. He knows how your fight with Julian must haunt you now - knowing the full context of his actions. Agreeing to marry a woman your parents set him up with - any woman - would have killed his spirit entirely.

“Yeah, I did,” he admits, meeting your eyes as he does.

You let out a breath and he sees your shoulders slump as you look away from him, trying to hide the tears in your eyes from him. You were never quite that good at hiding things from him, however. Your lips part as though you wish to say something or ask something, but appear to think better of it, shaking your head as you do. John’s uncertain where this hesitation in you is coming from. There should be a barrage of questions being hurled at him right now - not the two questions he’s gotten so far. Nothing about this feels right to him.

Your hair has started to curl slightly as it dries, forming waves around your face, and he's tempted to push the hair behind your ears, out of your face because he knows how that bothers you.

"What now?" he asks, unable to linger in the silence any longer.

You shake your head as you look at him, releasing a long held sigh. "I have no idea. I cashed out the trust fund and deferred law school. By now Matthew must've told them that I ended things. I haven't heard anything from anyone." The lack of response must be killing you, he knows. Perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He nods. Letting Singapore go through uninterrupted probably helped - it would buy you time if nothing else. He doubts your father thinks you know the truth about Julian. More than likely, it'll be chalked up to nerves or rebellion - maybe even grief.

You hop off of the island, landing right in front of him and he resists the urge to reach out and steady you on your feet. "Thank you. I should go. Tell Cece I'm sorry for interrupting," you say, throwing a half apologetic smile his way over your shoulder.

You walk back to the couch, and he follows, watching you lean down and pull your shoes back on.

His brow scrunches up in concern. You were leaving already? "Where are you going to go?" he asks, watching you apprehensively. That was it? Why even bother coming then?

"Not sure yet. I'll see you around," you reply over your shoulder, shrugging your jacket back on.

With that, you're gone as quickly as you came, and he's left feeling off kilter, staring around his apartment, wondering if you'd been some sort of hallucination. A fever dream borne of a guilty mind that hadn’t felt at peace in a very long time.

*------------*

He didn't hear from you again for a couple of months. The next he even heard of you was in the gossip magazines that Cece had brought over to his apartment to read on Sunday mornings while he cooked them both breakfast. She showed him photographs of you wearing skimpy dresses, escorted by pretty boy model types at every club in the city.

Through the grapevine - and he was guilty of using Cece to get the inside track on everything - he finds out that you'd moved into an apartment in the Upper East Side and had made it your goal to be the most notorious party girl the city's ever seen. It's in complete contrast to the low profile you typically keep and he sees it for what it is - a bizarre attempt at drawing attention to yourself. To what end, he could only guess at.

Another month in, and he gets a drunken call from you, providing him the name of some pub that is decidedly low brow - nothing like the clubs and speakeasies you're known to haunt. He arrives to find you seated at the bar, your short dress hiked up past the point of decency, nearly passed out. He finds out where you live and helps you to your place, depositing you on your couch. The guys at the front desk had him in their system already it seemed, and he'd been waved up rather quickly as he carried your limp form.

He leaves you there as he has work the following morning, and taking care of twenty two year old socialites isn't something he has the time or energy to do, even if it is you. It's as though he can feel himself being sucked into your tornado and he's digging his heels in, determined to stay away. He knows that if he gives in, that'll be it. You'll take over his life, his breath, his soul all over again and it had taken far too much out of him to escape the first time.

*------------*

Cece asks him if he's spoken to you recently. Apparently, you've been getting somewhat of a reputation. She heard from her contacts in the art world that you'd been frequenting some pill parties and it was only a matter of time before the tabloids got a hold of it.

There's a growing pit in his stomach anytime you come up, anytime he sees your face on the cover of a paper as he buys coffee, anytime something small reminds him of you. You're both in Manhattan every day. You're never more than a dozen miles away from him. Yet, what's he supposed to do really? He's not your caretaker. You're an adult. The worst thing in the world had happened and you're coping with it just as he had coped with it.

Despite that, he knows this isn't really you - not how you typically cope. You're entirely mission oriented and your way of dealing with things usually comes in the form of finding something new to conquer, something new to be good at, something new to distract yourself with. This is the first time he's seen you latch onto something destructive just to keep going on.

*------------*

"Do you think it hurt, when he died?"

John blinks, still trying to make sense of what was going on. He had been woken by the shrill ringtone he had set just for you, to make sure he'd never miss a call, and as his eyes settle on the clock on the nightstand, he realizes that it's past three in the morning. His heart is beating really fast, having been startled awake harshly and his brain struggles to close the gap between dreams and reality.

"What?"

"Julian, when he died. Do you think it was fast? Was it painless? Or do you think it was drawn out? Knowing Papa, I feel like he would've drawn it out. Don't you?"

He feels the hair on the back of his neck stand at your voice and your words. At what they're implying. There’s a nearly hauntingly playful quality to your voice that gives him chills.

"Where are you?" he asks, his heart thudding in his chest still, your words ringing in his ears, and his stomach clenching over and over doing somersaults. Something's wrong. He can feel it in his bones. Something is very wrong.

"Home."

"Stay there. I'm coming over."

It's nearly twelve miles from Brooklyn to the Upper East Side and on a normal day at three in the morning it would take twenty two minutes to get there. John makes it in twelve. He leaves his bike parked right in front, despite the doorman's protests, tossing the keys to him on his way in. If he cared so much, then he could move it.

His blood runs cold when he sees you lying on the floor, pills spilling out of the bottle that lies limp in your hand. You're cold when he reaches you, his hands trembling as he feels for a pulse, before scooping you up and taking you to the shower and placing you under the stream. He forces a couple of fingers down your throat, doing his best to force the pills up, unsure how many you'd taken by the time he arrived. He feels like he's living every nightmare come to life.

It's early morning by the time you're fully conscious, lying in the tub as he sits at the edge, watching over you. He'd had a few hours to himself to just watch you and think. Things couldn't go on the way they had been. He had to do something, or the next time he wouldn't get there in time.

He sees you stir and orders you to clean up and meet him outside, his voice unrecognizable to even himself. By the time you emerge, you'd showered and wet hair clumps around your head. You're wearing his old law school hoodie, and he feels a twinge of something, despite knowing you'd done it on purpose.

He places a plate of toast in front of you. You didn't keep much in the apartment besides bottles of chilled champagne and that really wasn't what he was going to serve at six thirty in the morning to the girl who had tried to overdose on pills the night before.

"We're going to take him down," he announced, as you munch on the toast and look at him cautiously.

Your eyes flash at him and you continue to chew, buying yourself time to respond. Finally you swallow and look up at him. "We?"

"Yes. We are not doing a repeat of last night. Ever. So get that clear in your head." His voice is firm and his jaw clenched as he remembers the sight of you lying on the floor only a few hours ago.

You're quiet, looking away from him and he can see the faintest hint of color in your cheeks and he hears you sniffle quietly.

"You scared me last night." His voice is entirely controlled, only the tremor in his hand giving away how entirely affected he is by the past few hours of terror he'd lived through.

Your voice is soft when you speak, catching in your throat when you do. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I don't want sorry. I want you to promise me that it won't happen again," he begs, reaching across and tucking the hair that had fallen into your face back behind your ear.

"I miss him." You look up at him and suddenly he's reminded of the eighteen year old who had snuck into his room after graduation - entirely vulnerable, entirely young, standing at the precipice of the unknown.

John sighs. "Me too. But that doesn't mean - it doesn't mean we give up."

You nod, standing up and walking around the counter to him, wrapping your arms tight around his waist. "So what're we going to do?" you ask, looking up at him.

*------------*

You'd just left his parents' home after having dinner with the three of them, followed by drinks in the study with his father, his mother choosing to retire to bed early.

The three of you had been working together on how to dismantle your father from the inside, and already he'd seen a big change in you. It wasn't how you'd been before, but it was better than it had been recently, and he'd take that win for now.

"You should know," his father discloses, clearing his desk of the files he'd taken out to share with the two of you, "when she turned eighteen, I asked her father about her and you - we all saw the way you look at her. I thought it would be nice to unite our families as one.”

John looks at his father with some amount of surprise. He hadn't known that - that he'd approached your father for your hand.

"Don't look so surprised son. You're not nearly as subtle as you like to think you are. Her father wasn't surprised either. I imagine he ensured it didn't happen regardless. The Hawthornes were not politically useful to him and he needed to keep her available." There's a slight bitter quality to his father's voice.

John nods, a stuttered breath escaping him. He wonders what your father had said to Julian in order to get him to interfere the way he had. He wonders if you knew.

"You need to be careful, son. Don't fall for her again," his father warns. John doesn't know how to break it to him - it was already far too late for that.

*------------*

John's woken up at eight in the morning on a Sunday with a knock on his door. Bleary eyed, he goes to open it, only to have a clipboard shoved in his face. A delivery man is standing here, urging him to sign for a package.

"It's downstairs. Can't bring it here. Won't fit."

What kind of a package was that big that it wouldn't fit in the elevator? He follows the man downstairs, who leads him to a truck, from the back of which a motorcycle is rolled off.

John stands there, blinking, unsure what to make of it all. Right as the delivery man hands him the keys, a cab pulls up, and out you step, looking far more dressed up and cheery than anyone should that early in the morning.

"Oh good it's here," you exclaim, beaming at him.

"What's going on?" he asks, taking in your appearance - the leather jacket and the combat boots. You looked like you were playing a biker chick for Halloween.

"I had Julian's bike shipped over," you explain, your eyes taking in his shirtless appearance and skimming over the grey sweatpants he had worn to bed. "You're going to teach me how to ride it."

He raises an eyebrow. "I am?"

"Yes. Now go put on a shirt. When do you even have time to do all that?" you ask, waving your hands in the general direction of his chest and abs, a flirty smile on your face that makes him blush ever so slightly. "Thought you were a lawyer."

John could feel a migraine coming on as he shivers from the cold. There really was no talking you out of this or reasoning to do this at a more humane hour. Rolling his eyes, he tosses you the keys before going upstairs to change.

*------------*

It had been a heart attack from nowhere. He'd gotten a call from his mother in the dead of night, hysterically screaming for him. Apparently you'd gotten the same call, as you'd arrived at the hospital before even he did. You held his mother together while the doctor spoke to him. It had been quick, relatively painless as far as death goes.

Everyone had come for the funeral, and from the corner of his eye he saw you greeting both of your parents as though nothing had happened. Your father's arm around your waist fills him with disgust, leaving him wondering how you could stand his touch after knowing everything that you did.

The funeral and wake afterwards seem to stretch on forever and all he wants is to be away from all the people.

It's late and most everyone had left, his mother catered to by her sisters - he'd needed a breather. He'd ended up in his childhood bedroom - surrounded by his soccer trophies, swimming medals, debate gavels - a shrine his mother had maintained to him and his achievements.

"Hey."

He turns at the sound of your softly hesitant voice as you stand at the door. You're still wearing the black dress you'd worn earlier in the day, a delicate strand of pearls wrapped tightly around your neck. He recognizes it as a piece his father had gifted you for one of your birthdays when you were younger, and he smiles at the memory of everyone surrounding you while you wore a tiara and blew out candles.

"Hey, come on in Cap."

You smile slightly at his use of the moniker, and walk in, carefully shutting the door behind you. The bed shifts as you come and sit by him, your hand reaching for his. He feels a streak of warmth go through him - the first bit of warmth he's felt since he saw his mother's crying face at the hospital.

"He's gone," he whispers, turning towards you. His father was gone. He's an adult, and this was a part of life, but he wasn't even thirty years old yet. Parents weren't supposed to die when you're that young. They're supposed to be there when you get married, when you have kids. His father would never meet his children.

You squeeze his hand, bringing his head down to your shoulder as you hold him. Tears won't come. He didn't think he was capable - not yet at least. Right now it was enough to feel something - anything.

He takes another deep breath and as he turns his head, he catches your worried look. His eyes go from yours to your lips and back again and before he knows it, he's leaned in. You let him. He pulls away, set to apologize, but when he tries to, your lips cover his again. A shuddered breath traverses through the both of you as he lowers you to the navy blue sheets that cover the bed, your light hands traveling from his face to his hair, to his arms - leaving sparks of sensation everywhere they go. He acts on pure instinct, the two of you careful to keep quiet as his hands roam, touching skin and drawing noises, whose mere imagination had maintained permanent residence in his dreams for years.

*------------*

It had been two weeks since his father's funeral before he sees you again by himself. He'd spent a large amount of that time with his mother, helping her pack up his father's things and sort through the will. You’d been there with her whenever he couldn’t be.

He kept replaying that night over and over again in his head. It shouldn't have happened like that. The two of you - finally - it should've been perfect. Instead it had been coated with grief and hurt - a desire to provide comfort and years of pent up longing that should've exploded but instead simmered into a low fizzle. It had still been what he had needed. It just hadn't been what you needed, and he couldn't help but feel guilty for that, as he remembers you giving him a half hearted smile and adjusting your clothes before heading back downstairs.

"They turned me down," you complain as he opens the door to you.

He lets you walk in and you hand him a piece of paper that he reads twice before it fully clicks. "The CIA rejected you?" he asks incredulously.

"Yeah, can you believe it?" You scoff, rolling your eyes, entitlement wafting off of you.

You seem entirely put out as you help yourself to the scotch he'd been drinking and he can't help but laugh a bit. "You've never been rejected before, have you? Princess has never not gotten what she wants." He knows you haven't - Harvard undergrad, accepted to Harvard Law School, top of your class and winning every single thing you'd ever set out for.

You shake your head at his somewhat obvious mockery and make yourself comfortable on his couch next to him, not responding as you focus instead on drinking. It was still odd seeing you drinking real liquor - like you'd actually grown up. Ruefully, you reply, "I've never really gotten what I want."

He's left to ponder that response while you drink some more.

"So I suppose I'll be going to my safety school at the FBI," you sigh after a few minutes, reaching across his lap for the remote. "I feel like I'm going to Columbia or something," you joke, trying to shake it off.

"Hey!"

You laugh as you flick on the news, settling into his side. He's glad you're still casually comfortable together. There had been a part of him that had worried that things would be different afterwards, so it was good to see that you haven't deviated from your normal treatment of him. He watches you as your eyes are trained on the TV anchor, your face scrunching up with every sip of the scotch. You're still not used to the taste or the burn, even if you like to pretend to enjoy it now.

"Let me make it up to you."

You turn up to look at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Last time,” he explains, swallowing a breath that threatens to burst out of him. “It shouldn't have been like that. You didn't - you didn't finish. Let me make it up to you."

You chuckle dismissively, patting his thigh with your hand. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" he presses. He's had a taste of you. He's not ready to just let it go. Let you go.

You're quiet for a second, before you push up from the couch. He follows.

"Because it won't be what you think it will - what you want it to be. It won't be us how it should've been,” you say, your voice low and colored with sadness, fingers fretting with the edge of your top, and eyes unable to meet his.

The two of you stand in the middle of the loft, the draft chilling the air around you. Your words linger in the air, swirling around the two of you.

"What do you mean?" he asks, reaching out for you. The two of you consciously or unconsciously moving around the space, closer and closer to the bed.

You bite your lip, as though unsure of how to say it. How to say it in a way that will resonate with him. "I am not the nine year old that said I was going to marry you one day, John," you clarify, a sad smile gracing your face as you look up at him. "I'm not the fifteen year old that begged you to be my first kiss. I'm not the eighteen year old that thought I'd have a beautiful life with you. Those girls are dead. I can't be who you want me to be."

John feels his heart sink at your declaration, despite knowing you're right. It's not the same as it once had been. The last time he was with you was proof enough of that. And yet, he doesn't want the time after his father's funeral to be it - not after everything. He couldn't quite bear it to leave it at that. Not if there was a chance.

"Be you then. Let me be whoever you need me to be."

You eye him carefully, surprised at his persistence. The two of you have managed to maneuver yourselves towards the other side of the loft, near his bed, and he watches apprehensively as you walk slowly closer to him, an odd glint in your eye. He finds himself instinctively backing up as you approach, until the back of his legs hit the bedframe.

"You sure about that?" you ask, and before he can catch a breath, your hands have come up and shoved against his chest, pushing him to the bed. He bounces on the mattress ever so slightly, his eyes widened in surprise as you quickly straddle him, your face oh so close to his. "Is this okay?" you appraise him, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders to maintain your balance.

He nods, moving forward and capturing your lips. He only manages to feel in control for a second, before it’s swept away from him, your fingers harshly pulling at his hair, drawing a groan from him as he finds himself bucking up towards you. It's all fast, hard - nothing like he'd imagined it would be like with you. However, it's only afterwards, as you get out of bed and pull your clothes on to leave, that he realizes exactly how different it is. He finds himself unable to say anything. After all, you'd warned him. He watches you get fully dressed and slip out the door with only a half smile and wave. Never before has he felt so...used.

The next morning, he sees the angry red scratch marks clawed into his back and the bruises left on the rest of him - that’s when it fully sinks in. You're not you.

It happens a couple more times before he starts giving as good as he's getting, and for a second you're surprised. Shockingly, instead of being discouraged, it only serves to spur you further.

Things continue in the same way throughout your training at the FBI. You tell him not to wait. That you aren't exclusive and he should date. After all, you're only back in the city around once a month and he never comes to DC. You always arrive on Julian's old motorcycle. You never spend the night. He tries dating but it's hard to want to become exclusive with other women, knowing that you'll be back again in a couple of weeks. His father’s words loom in his head constantly on the nights he lies awake wondering how you’re doing, if you’re alright, if you’re thinking of him too.

He knows he has to wait. He has to wait to tell you until everything is done and the dust settles. There’s a ring with your name on it sitting in his mother’s jewelry box. He just has to ride this out, until you’re you again.

*------------*

You'd accepted a spot on the BAU. He'd thought you'd take the offer in White Collar or something else that was based out of the New York field office at least. However, you said you liked DC and that you liked this one team in particular, and John found himself confused. The plan was really just to get access via the FBI - who cares which team it was on.

You don't see him the first few months you're on this new team. It seems you're always traveling and your phone calls are few and far in between. He starts taking on more than his fair share of the billing hours, working sixteen hour days every day. It won’t be long until he’s made partner - youngest partner in the firm’s history.

He gets far too happy when you tell him you're coming back to New York for the holidays, and ask to spend them with him. He's nearly giddy with excitement. He gets the babka from the Jewish deli you like and he grabs a couple of bottles of champagne to ring in the new year with.

You arrive, a large smile on your face, your nose red from the chill and a cute little beanie on top of your head. You laugh and leap into his arms immediately and you kiss him and he forgets how to breathe. You're in his arms and you're smiling and you're kissing him without it leading to sex and for the first time in two years he feels a surge of hope flowing through him. That's my baby.

You tell him about the team and how much you've been learning, as the two of you settle into eating dinner together. It's so nice to hear you excited about something - it reminds him of when you first started at Harvard and the two of you were still maintaining a strong friendship despite putting your relationship on the back burner. All the late night phone calls where he'd fall asleep to the sound of you talking about your history and art classes, everything you were learning in criminology and psychology and he'd just hum and listen, taking it all in. At the time, he'd been worried that you were going to work yourself to the bone doing a triple major and a minor, but you hadn't been able to decide what you wanted to do and you were intent on doing it all. It’s that similar charged passion now as you tell him about the latest case. You deal with serial killers every day and it isn’t something he’d have ever thought you’d do. You tell him about your team and that you’ve made friends, you talk about some kid’s birthday party and ask his advice on a gift, and there is this light in your eyes, this hopeful softness to your smile and he can see every possibility with you.

After dinner, the two of you sit on the couch as he fills you in on his most recent trial that he's been working, glasses of scotch in hand. He's a little surprised again when you kiss him softly, completely unlike the past year or so that you two have been intimate. He can't help but escalate it, pulling you into his lap. This was it. This was how it was always meant to be. You let him carry you to the bed and slowly lower you, going down and down as he works his way down your body. Every touch inciting a soft moan from you, every moan in turn bolstering him onward. He's not sure what changed, but you let him be with you the way he's wanted to be with you forever. Your fingers wrap around his neck, pulling him close after you both finish, leaving him buried within you. He feels your lips ghost over his forehead, fingers running through his hair. You make no move to leave.

The sun streams in through the windows, waking him the next morning. He doesn't feel you next to him, and for a second he panics and thinks you'd snuck out in the middle of the night, having realized your mistake. You don’t stay the night. Ever. You barely even linger afterwards. But then he sees you standing by the window at the kitchen, wearing his shirt and some socks to protect from the chill, a mug of coffee in your hand. His heart flutters at the sight.

He gets up, slipping on a pair of pajama pants, before joining you at the window, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and tucking his head onto your shoulder. It's only when he tries to kiss you that he notices your glossy eyes holding unshed tears.

"Hey Cap," he says softly to you, turning your face towards him gently. "What's wrong?"

You're worrying your bottom lip between your teeth and your hand, the one that isn't clutching the mug tightly is bunched into the shirt you're wearing, wrinkling the material. "I'm sorry," you manage to breathe out. "I am so sorry for all of this."

John feels his breath start to swell in concern, and he rubs his hands up and down your arms soothingly. "What're you sorry about?" Everything was finally good. What could there possibly be to be sorry about?

You swallow back a sob. "Doing this job, I see all these people every day who have been messed up by their fathers. Day in and day out, that's all I see. People trying to make sense of the world in one way or another because of how much their parents screwed them up. And you know what? A lot of these people hurt other people because of how much they've been hurt. It sickens me to relate to them - these sickos, pedophiles, and murderers and I think to myself, wow, that could easily be me if I let my father continue to get to me. If I keep going down this path where all I'm doing is basing everything around revenge and taking him down. My life is all consumingly him and I want it to not be."

John nods understandingly, as you continue to let him hold you. The pain in your voice causes his heart to clench.

"I don't like those people and I don't want to be them. I have a chance to stop them. Do something good. Feel clean for once in my life."

"If that's what you want, then alright,” he reassures you. Of course you’d do whatever was best for you - you should know that he would always do what was best for you. “But why are you apologizing to me?"

"Because - because I don't think I can do this, if I'm reminded of Julian everyday,” you sob. “I don't want to forget him, but - but I'm also not strong enough to think about him every single day and be reminded of what happened to him all the time. I want a chance to get out.”

He looks at you, trying to read between the lines of what you’re saying, and the realization dawns on him. The softness, the apologies - the way you’d let him hold you and have you wholly for the first time. The fact that you’d stayed. You were trying to say goodbye.

He can feel the mounting panic that he tries to quell. You’ve obviously thought this through, that much is clear. You’re trying to do good, to be good, to shed the shadow of your father and he can’t fault you for that in any way. It’s the right thing to do, and he knows it. He’d thrown you a life raft the day he’d found you passed out on your living room floor, and he’d started to help you paddle towards shore. He hadn’t cared what land the two of you would arrive at - the only goal being arriving on solid ground at all.

You look at him mournfully and take in a shuddered breath that he can feel rush through you as you’re still pressed against him. You stand in the cage of his arms, never once making an attempt to move away. “John, if you ask me to stay, I will,” you whisper nervously, your eyes meeting his, letting him see everything. “But, I am begging you, please don't. Don't ask me to stay. I have a shot at doing something good - something that has nothing to do with my father. Doing this job makes me feel like I'm making amends and undoing some of the bad that exists in the world. I'm starting to feel clean again. But I don't think I can do that if I have one foot in this world and - "

"And you can't do that if I'm around. Because I'm part of it. I'm part of this world."

You nod, taking another deep breath as the tears continue to fall. Down your face and his.  

"I love you." He can't help but say it. He needs to. He needs you to know, if only once.

You smile despite the tears, reaching up to cup his cheek and he leans into it and he leans into you. "I know. But I don't think that's good for either one of us anymore. I used to. But I think the two of us are too broken in the same ways. We've both been on the outskirts of the same life and we're scarred by the same darkness. All of our jagged pieces, they fit so well together. But I'm starting to think that kind of love isn't the good kind. I don't really want jagged pieces anymore. I don't want to have to have someone fit me in order to round out my edges. I want to be whole all on my own. I feel like we both need that. We both deserve that - and I can’t give it to you.”

When you said it like that, how could he even attempt to disagree.

He releases the breath he’s been holding for the past while. Your arms are still wrapped around his waist, and he lets you - he lets you be his solace. He wraps his arms tightly around your back, pulling you into him, as close as he possibly can, head bent and resting on your shoulder.

“What if I never love anyone like this again?” he asks, his words a mumble against your skin. You’re the person he talks to about things like this.

You shift, moving your head back to rest against the brick walls, bringing both arms up, holding his face gently with both hands. “You won’t,” you tell him tenderly, tilting your head ever so slightly as your eyes meet his. “You’ll love them differently. But that doesn't mean that it won't be real or deep or any less meaningful - just different. Hopefully, with any luck, it’ll be better. Because you deserve the world, John.”

You rest your forehead to his and he lets himself bask in the feeling of you - you all around him, you everywhere, you in his arms.

He prays with all his might, that you find what you’re looking for.

*------------*

The tattoos had been his idea. He wanted something to always remember Julian by. But he was also a selfish man - he needed a tether - something to tie you to him forever.

You part ways outside the tattoo parlor, one of the bottles of champagne that he'd bought in your bag. He goes home alone.

You ride the bike back to DC and pop open the bottle of champagne on New Year's Eve all by yourself, drinking to a fresh start.

[hotpinkrathian]

Christmas Party

(Kyalin)

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Please..."

"Kya..."

"Lin it'll be fun." Kya promised.

"Games with the families are never fun. Do you want me to count how many times Su broke my nose playing pie in the face?"

"It wasn't that many."

"Four is a lot of times to break your nose, Kya."

"You got me there. But Lin, imagine, a big Christmas, on the island. Everyone is... happy,"

"Until we fight."

"And there's sweets at all hours of the day." Lin didn't look impressed.

"We can start drinking at 11."

"In the morning?" Kya nodded, causing Lin to raise an eyebrow.

"Go on," Lin said. Kya pursed her lips, placing a hand on Lin's waist, circling around the earth bender.

"And when everyone goes to bed, waiting for the morning, we go back to my room and celebrate like adults." Kya whispered the last line in Lin's ear, and Lin was blushing profoundly.

"Alright," Lin caved, "but I'm not babysitting for your brother." Kya stretched a hand out.

"Deal."

"Lin! Kya! So glad the two of you could make it!" Pema greeted. The temple was already buzzing with activity. Lin put her coat on the filled hanger next to the door observing the chaos behind Pema.

"Thank you for having us, Pema," Kya smiled, embracing her sister in law. Lin wasn't paying attention when she, too, was pulled into a hug. She raised an arm awkwardly around Pema, looking to Kya for help, instead just getting laughed at. When Pema pulled away, distracted by the sound of a clay pot crashing to floor, Kya sidled up to Lin.

"That was cute," Kya said.

"There wasn't even a warning. What did I do to deserve that?" Kya nudged her with an arm.

"You'll get used to it."

"Thats what scares me." Kya chuckled, walking over to Bumi who slammed a shot glass onto the table. Lin followed, impressed by Bumi's gusto, although, at this rate he'd be out by dinner.

"Bumi!" Kya called, "did you start without me?"

"Took to long, Kya, I'm already four ahead of you."

"That didn't help you last year, it certainly won't this year." Lin had vague memories of their sibling drinking contest. Tenzin only ever participated once, he lost so badly and was sick for a week after, he never did it again. Kya picked up a shot, lifting it to meet her brother's.

"To tradition!" She said.

"Tradition? To drinking!" Bumj corrected as they took the shot. Bumu turned to Bum-ju who squeaked behind him.

"See Lin," Kya started, "the secret to having a good pace, is waterbending." Kya explained, "manipulate a little alcohol out of the shot, replace it with water, and bam. Suddenly five shots feels like two."

"Thats cheating."

"We never set the rules, or if we did, we don't remember them. If he can find a way to manipulate his alcohol with airbending then he is free to so." Lin scoffed.

"Lets get something to drink, hmm?" Kya said, guiding them to the table in the living room the Avatar was dotting around.

"Beifong, Kya!" Korra said, raising her glass.

"Not too much of that," Lin said and Korra nodded.

"Absolutely Chief, I am relatively new to the world of alcohol I will absolutely pace myself." Lin side eyed her, as Kkrra grinned and shuffled over to Asami.

"Here," Kya said, passing Lin a drink.

"What is it?"

"Not sure, ran out of the first one so I mixed it with the next bottle." Lin looked at her skeptically, Kya just shrugged. Sje took a sip of the concoction, ignoring the bitter taste it left in her mouth. Kya must've seen it on her face, because she lifted an eyebrow, pressing a hand to Lin's jaw.

"Too bitter?" She asked.

"It's... fine, I guess. It'll do the job." Kya grinned, leaning close to Lin's ear.

"Later I'll do my job, and don't worry, what I have to offer is very sweet." Lin blushed as Kya took a nip at her ear, before swinging her long white ponytail in her face, and walking over to Pema. Lin watched her go, unsure of what she was supposed to do after that.

"Lin, its good to see you." A voice said from behind her. She turned to see Tenzin, standing there with a small grin to his lips. Lin nodded, extending her hand. He took it and they shook, Lin grinning.

"You too, airhead." He rubbed the back of his neck while he replied.

"Haven't heard that one in a while."

"I thought it was the perfect time to bring it back." He chuckled.

"So, how are things with you?" He asked. "I feel like we haven't talked much with all thats been going on with the refugee camps." Lin looked to Kya who met her eye, wasting no time in downing the shot in her hand, making sure to run her tongue all around the glass of the cup. Lin gulped returning her gaze to Tenzin, hoping her blush wasn't too noticeable.

"They've been good. I've been taking breaks." She said.

"Good, good. I'm glad, you deserve a break, Lin. Should you take it."

"Heh, you aren't getting rid of me that easy." He placed an arm on her shoulder,

"Of course not," he replied.

"Dinner is served!" Pema called out. Bolin and Korra tossed them selves over the sofa, racing for the first plate of the meal. Lin waited for everyone to settle before getting a plate of her own, sitting across from Kya at the large table that had been brought in by Asami to seat everyone.

"Should we say something?" Asami asked, before eating anything.

"Like what?" Korra asked, halting her fork full of meat inches from her mouth.

"I don't know. I guess I just..." the girl trailed off and Lin frowned. Of course, it was her first Christmas without her father.

Korra put her fork down, placing a hand on Asami's knee to comfort her.

"Go ahead," Korra said, "we'll wait." Everyone nodded, and Asami took a deep breath.

"Thank the spirits," Asami started, "for giving us the chance to have this season together. And for this great big family I inherited. I miss you dad," she finished. Everyone dipped their head. Asami cleared her throat, and with that, the feast began. It didn't take long for Lin to engage Senna in conversation, the Avatar's mother absolutely adored all of the Korra stories Lin had to share.

"She was arrested the first day she got here," Lin explained, "someone didn't get the memo that destroying things is against the law." Senna laughed, and Korra shrugged from down the table. Lin lifted her glass, she wasn't one for wine, but it fit the occasion. Before she could place it to her lips, however, she was kicked in the shin. She furrowed her brows, trying to look under the table. She landed her eyes on Kya, who sat across from her, staring intently at the metalbender. Kya but her bottom seductively, her leg brushing against Lin's under the table. Lin gave her a half-hearted warning look, and the waterbender winked.

   Lin volunteered for the game, solely to escape Kya's teasing for just a bit. The waterbender had been throwing her glances all night, and Lin wasn't sure how much more of it she could take before she pushed her against a bathroom wall and well... the rest is up to her imagination.

"Wait what do I have to do?" Korra asked for the third time.

"You... again! Just, drink the shots," Asami said, "I'll handle the rest." Lin watched as Bumi expertly poured three shots each,  before re taking his seat.

"Kya!" He called. Fabulous. "These count as part of the race." He declared.

"Seems like cheating to me," Kya said, placing a hand on her hip.

"Hey, a shot is a shot. Watch me of you feel so inclined." No please no-

"I will." Kya made an example of herself as she sat down, pulling her chair loudly to the table, right next to Lin. Lin didn't meet her eye, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. Kya's hand found its way to her thigh, her thin fingers sliding in between Lin's legs...

"Lets drink, shall we?" Lin said, downing her first one, starting the round. The game was simple, take a shot, flip through a deck of cards until you flipped an ace, first to three flipped aces, wins.

She began flipping her cards, well aware of Kya's hand gripping her thigh, her fingers hovering over the material of her pants.

"Go Bumi!" Kya cheered as her brother flipped his first ace. He downed his second just as Lin flipped her first ace. Korra was still flipping, her clumsy fingers getting a lot of help from Asami.

"Faster, Lin.' Kya said, almost mockingly. Lin gulped, feeling herself blush.

"Faster, Lin, Faster!" Lin ran a tongue over her lips. Focus.  She flipped her second ace, reaching for her final shot. She took it like it was the only thing keeping her alive. At that moment, Kya decided to really squeeze her thigh, and Lin spat the shot out in suprise. She covered her mouth with a hand and looked to Kya, who was evidently playing dumb.

"Too much for you, Chief?" Kya asked. "I know you hate those coconut ones."

"Done!" Bumi shouted, slamming his glass on the table and standing up in triumph.

"Sit down before you hurt yourself, Bum'" Kya said.

"Hah! This old man just beat Chief Beifong and the Avatat in a drinking game. I think you're lacking Kya." He smirked, gripping the edge of his coat. Kya's eyes narrowed, and Lin watched as the waterbender stood up, taking the can next to Asami. She held it horizontally in her hands, thinking it over, before cracking into it with her nails and drinking out of the torn aluminum. Lin watched, oddly turned on by the action. Kya kept her eyes on her brother who's jaw was agape. Kya threw the can on the floor wipednher mouth with her arm, also hot, and sat back down.

"Thats got to be... what, like three more shots? I think your lacking Bumi." Bumi crossed his arms, storming away. Korra looked thoroughly impressed as Kya's newfound talent, getting the healer to promise to teach her. When the kids left, the two of them were left at the table in silence. Lin cleared her throat, hoping Kya would say something.

"I must've impressed you, you have nothing to say." Kya grinned, taking the cards and returning them to their boxes.

"I didn't know you could chug like that." Kya scoffed, stacking the boxes of cards in the center of the pile.

"Yes you did," the waterbender finalized. Before Lin could say anything more, Pema interrupted, lifting a leaf over their heads.

"What are you doing?' Lin asked.

"Its a mistletoe, Lin." Pema explained. Lin looked to Pema in confusion.

"Am I supposed to know what that means?" Lin asked, crossing her arms gruffly.

"Oh Lin, don't be so grumpy, you kiss whoever is under the mistletoe." Lin looked to Kya, who was undressing her with her eyes. This again?

"Alright, alright, fine." Lin leaned in for a quick kiss, taken aback when Kya gripped her face, holding her lips hostage under the mistletoe. Kya's tongue breached her mouth and Lin almost hummed at the soft groan Kya released. Kya pulled away, licking her lips modestly as the crowd cheered and whistled. Lin pressed her fingers to her lips. Pema looked mildly insulted she likely hadn't meant for the two of them to make out out under the mistletoe. To be fair, Lin hadn't expected it either. Lin looked down at the floor with a blush, while Kya sat there, smirking at the results of her handy work. Someone whistled, likely Bolin and Lin was urged to stand up. With a dip of her head she retreated to the washroom, closing the door behind her.

As she expected, it wasn't long before a soft knock rapped on the door. Lin opened it, stepping aside to let Kya though.

"Did I embaress you?" Kya asked, looking to Lin. Lin scoffed.

"Yeah, but I think I'll be fine." Kya's lips stretched into a grin. Lin pursed her lips, leaning against the sink when Kya pressed her chest against hers.

"Ready to get out of here?" The waterbender asked. Lin nodded,

"I've been ready the whole night." Kya laughed.

"I know you have." Kya took Lin by the hand, the two of them snuck passed those who remained at the party and up the narrow stairs of the Air temple, celebrating by themselves for the rest of the night.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Shotgun - m. tkachuk

And here is 8.7k of a road trip with Matthew Tkachuk, which honestly, is the real dream. Let me know what you think of it, reblog (I love looking at tags!!) and pop into my inbox if you’d like!

Wine pairing from someone with zero authority on the subject: a nice brut rosé - crisp, fruity, bubbly. Plus, I like the vibes. 

It all started with a text. What are the chances you can get the week after next off? Matthew had sent. Madison’s brow furrowed. Doubtful, but I can try. Are you going to tell me what this is about? There was a week left in the season before playoffs started, and with the points spread in the Pacific being what it was, the matchups were all but locked in. It took less than a minute to get a response. No :) I’ll let you know once you get an answer. She got approved for the time off two days later. Her phone rang as soon as she texted him the news. “How do you feel about road trips?”

---

Maddy had met Matthew about a little over a year prior, soon after she moved to Calgary from her hometown of Toronto. Having finished her first week of work as a computer programmer, there was nothing Madison wanted more than to let loose and enjoy a few drinks with her friends. She was sharing a two-bedroom with her best friend Emily, who Maddy would swear up and down was the sunniest, warmest, most kind person she’d ever met. Not like Maddy wasn’t a nice person — she was — but where her idea of relaxing meant going out bouldering, or camping, or a last-minute road trip, Emily was more of a homebody. 

But going out meant going out, and so Emily was happily dragged along to a bar downtown; which one, she couldn’t really say. Madison walked up to the bar as soon as they entered, catching the bartender’s eye and ordering a Tom Collins. She tapped her fingers on the counter as she waited, glancing around the room. It was ten o’clock on a Friday night, so it was plenty packed. “What are you getting?” Madison asked Emily curiously. 

She held up her Molson. “I’m a woman of simple tastes. Plus, I didn’t feel like waiting around for the bartender to actually make me a drink,” Emily added dryly. 

Maddy rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of going out to a bar when you’re just going to be drinking something you could get at the liquor store?” Emily stuck her tongue out. The bartender slid Maddy’s glass over, taking her card and swiping it through quickly. “Thank you!” she chirped, whipping around to head over and snag a free table she had seen a few minutes before. 

She never ended up getting to the table. Instead, she ran straight into 6 feet, 2 inches of pure Midwestern beef. “Woah!” Matthew said, steadying her as she watched her glass fall to the floor, thankfully not breaking but absolutely spilling its entire contents over the wood. “You good?” 

Madison nodded, grabbing a rag from the bartender. Matthew followed suit, joining her on the floor. “Got a little on my shoes, but it’ll be fine. They won’t stain.”

Matthew nodded, giving a final wipe before taking her rag and handing both back over the counter. “Did me spilling your drink all over you ruin my chances of getting your name?”

“Madison St. Pierre,” she said, laughing and sticking out a hand for him to shake. 

“Matthew Tkachuk, but—”

Maddy cut him off. “I probably already know that?” Matthew ducked his head sheepishly. “I may be a long-suffering Leafs fan, but I don’t live under a rock.”

He took a sip of his beer, leaning up against the bar. “Not from around here, eh?”

Maddy shook her head. “Just moved a couple weeks ago. I’m from Toronto, moved here for a job. I do computer programming,” she said by way of explanation. 

“A smart girl.”

She tilted her head. “You could say that.”

“Well,” he said, “I feel bad about spilling your drink on you, let me buy you another.” 

Maddy laughed. “If you insist. It’s really the least you could do.”

Matthew nodded at the bartender, ordering her another Tom Collins and putting it on his tab. “You and your friend are more than welcome to join us,” he gestured behind him to where the rest of his group was sitting, “we were playing a drinking game and could use a few more players anyway.”

And that was how Matthew met Maddy. 

---

Day 1 

Ten days later, Madison was hefting her duffel bag into the trunk of her Nissan. It was 7:00 on a Tuesday. Normally on a day off she’d be taking advantage of every possible minute of sleep she could get, but lines to cross the border could be long and they wanted to get to Montana by lunch. She waved goodbye to Emily, hopping in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. Matthew had initially suggested they just get a rental car, since it would save Maddy the 20-hour drive back. But a quick Google search let them know that the chances of finding a company willing to let them drop off a Canadian car in Nevada were slim to none. Plus, Maddy had always liked driving, so it wasn’t really an issue for her. They weren’t going to be alone on the trip; Matthew had invited Elias and Rasmus along. She felt a little bit like a school bus driver, stopping at Elias’s complex to pick him up, then Rasmus’ condo, finally pulling into the underground lot of Matthew’s apartment building. Holding one hand up in greeting, he wheeled his suitcases over to her car.

Maddy unblocked her seatbelt, hopping out to help him. “Why on earth did you need so many bags?” she huffed, turning one on its side and wedging it in between hers and Elias’s. 

He shrugged. “I’ve got a bag for the trip, a bag of actual clothes and workout stuff for the series, and the suit bag.” He hung the offending article on a hook. “Did you think I’d be able to set my vanity aside for a whole four days?”

“I should have known that would be too much to ask.”

Matty threw his head back, laughing. “Anyone ever told you how funny you are, Mads?”

“Once or twice, Ratthew,” she said, slamming the door shut. 

Maddy hopped back in the driver’s seat, jamming the key in the ignition and turning the engine on. “Next stop, boys, is America.”

---

Well technically, the next stop was a gas station off of Highway 2, about twenty minutes from the border. “Wait, wait,” Matthew said, a conspiratorial grin on his face as Madison took the pump out of the gas tank. 

She raised one eyebrow. “What?”

He made grabby hands at her keys. “Let me drive.”

“Why?” Madison asked. “I’ve been driving for like what, two hours? I’m not tired yet.”

“I’m the only American in the car.”

Maddy put the pump back. “And?”

Matthew looked sheepish. “Someone said that the border patrol officers will tell Americans ‘welcome home’ when they’re coming back. It’s never happened to me flying so I wanted to see if it would be different in a car.”

“If it means that much to you?” she said, tossing the keys over the hood of the car. Matthew caught them. Maddy rounded the back of the car before she could see him ducking his head, blushing. 

They arrived at the Piegan/Carway crossing shortly after. With exactly zero cars in front of them, Matthew pulled straight up to the booth. 

“Purpose of your visit?” the officer said, looking into the driver’s side. 

“Three of us play hockey, we’re road tripping down to Las Vegas before our playoff series starts in a few days,” Matty answered easily. 

He nodded. “And how long will you be in the States for?”

It was clear either this man had never watched a series of professional sports in his life, or he was just following a standard script. “Depends?” Matthew said, fully aware of how questionable that sounded. 

Maddy piped up from the passenger seat. “I’m driving the car back, so I’ll be back in eight days.”

“Right,” Matthew nodded, “But this trip to the US, we’ll be back in seven days. We’re flying back on the team plane, so it’s not a land crossing.” He decided to forego mentioning that, barring a sweep, they’d be back again in two weeks.

The poor officer looked bewildered. “Team plane?”

Matty shrugged his shoulders. “We play for the Calgary Flames, the team charters a plane to fly us from Calgary to wherever we’re playing and back. We decided to take the scenic route this time.” 

“Okay,” he said, but Madison still wasn’t convinced he actually understood what Matty was saying. If the border officer thought anything of the American, Canadian, and Swedish passports he was handed, he didn’t say anything. Giving a cursory glance, he handed them back. “Welcome back,” he nodded to Matthew, waving the car through the gate. Matthew pumped his fist.

---

An hour later, Matthew pulled into a dirt parking lot on the edge of Glacier National Park. “WE MADE IT!” he exclaimed, putting the car in park and throwing his hands up. 

“We drove three hours,” Elias said from the back seat. 

“And?” Matty challenged, opening the door. 

Maddy grabbed her backpack, stuffed with sandwiches and snacks that they had gotten on their way in. “If you guys brought hiking boots or good tennis shoes, now’s the time,” she said, lacing up her own boots. “There’s a loop around here that’s a little under four miles long, doesn’t sound like it’s too difficult but there is some elevation climb, so better safe than sorry.” People typically didn’t peg her for it, but Maddy was a very outdoorsy person at heart. She had taken up rock climbing in high school, and was a regular at the bouldering gyms back in Toronto until she moved. She’d found a climbing gym she liked well enough in Calgary, but with Banff just over an hour away from the city, the park had become her go-to for climbing and hiking. Matty had come with her on more than one occasion, and had surprised her with a long weekend camping for her birthday in March. The snow hadn’t all melted yet, and waking up to the powder-dusted fir trees outside of their tent had been one of the most beautiful sights of her life. 

“Everyone’s got a full water bottle?” she asked, tying up her hair. The last thing anyone wanted was to get heatstroke in one of the most remote parts of the park with only one phone that could even connect to an American cell tower. 

The group started off at a leisurely pace, wandering off-trail to check out anything and everything that caught their interest. The edge of the St. Mary Valley served as the perfect backdrop for lunch, Maddy pulling the sandwiches out from her bag and doling them out. “Oh thank God, I’m starving,” Elias said, grabbing his food from Maddy practically before she even had it in her hand. 

“Did you not have breakfast?” she asked incredulously. 

He nodded. “I did, but I’m still hungry. Should have brought snacks.” Off to his side, Matty snickered. 

 Day 2

Elias had volunteered to take over from Matthew to drive through the night, switching off sometime around sunrise with Rasmus. “I 100% have a crick in my neck,” Maddy grimaced, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and checking her phone. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Matthew smiled. Maddy groaned, leaning into his side. Almost instinctively, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, taking a few gulps before setting it back down on the floor of the car, where it promptly rolled away. 

“Who do I have to blow to get a decent cup of coffee around here?” Maddy groaned. Matthew almost choked on his water. He had to get his mind off of the idea of Maddy blowing anything or he was about to have an issue. He pulled out his phone, jumping on Google maps. 

“There’s a little coffee shop a few miles ahead, off of the Spruce Drive exit?” he asked tentatively. 

She yawned. “As long as they sell caffeine, I’m game.” They did indeed sell caffeine, and after inhaling two cappuchinos and a small mountain of pastries later, Maddy hopped back behind the wheel. “You sure bear claws and muffins are on the meal plan, boys?” she asked, a smile playing on the corner of her lips. 

Rasmus waved her off. “It’s not like you’re going to rat us out, are you?” 

She shrugged, wiggling her phone in her hand as she pulled up at a stoplight. “Bold of you to assume I don’t have Coach’s number in my phone.”

Matty plucked her phone from her hand, placing it back by the center console. “Be that as it may, sweet Madison, you neglect to remember that I’m the only one with coverage in the U.S.” He might not strike most people as a particularly sentimental person, but Matthew loved his family, and decided that the extra charge was well worth being able to call his parents and sister whenever he was missing them. 

She stuck her tongue out at Matthew. “You ruin all of my fun, you know that?” All he did was grin. The drive to Mesa Falls wasn’t long at all, they had just finished their food — Matty popping bites of muffin into Madison’s mouth as she drove — when she pulled over to the curb by the sign. Maddy threw the boys’ backpacks to them, pointing to the single bathroom stall in the tiny rest area. “Go change, I’ll use the car.”

“Why can’t we have the car?” Matthew complained.

She looked at him. “Three full-grown men, all over six feet, in one car. I know you see each other’s dicks all day in the locker room, but I’d really rather not have that in my car. Think.”

Matty made an “o” with his mouth. “Gotcha.”

Swim trunks were much easier to get on than a wrap bikini, Madison was finding, and the boys were finished changing well before she was done figuring out her top. She bit her lip, poking her head out of the door. “Matty?” 

He turned around, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Could you help me tie this?” she asked, gesturing to the halter top. “I think it’s stuck or something.”

Matthew swallowed hard, his eyes widening as he tried to stutter through a sentence. “Uh, yeah. I can do that. For sure,” he said, shuffling over to the car. He gently untwisted the straps, gathering them into a bow at the base of her neck and trying very, very hard to not think about how soft her skin felt underneath his fingers. This was one of his best friends. And best friends weren’t supposed to think about that kind of stuff. Right?

Behind them, Elias and Rasmus shared a glance. They had expected something was going on between them, really ever since the party in November, but this was something new. They had never seen Matthew gone this far for a girl before. And they liked this side of him. 

“Thanks,” she said, squeezing his shoulder before disappearing back into the car to throw on a coverup. “How long is the walk to the actual waterfalls?”

“Not long,” Elias responded. “Ten minutes or so?” It was an easy walk to the falls, which were mercifully empty when they got there. They kicked off their sandals, leaving the bags under a nearby bush. Matthew knew Madison was pretty. She wasn’t a nun and he wasn’t a saint; she had seen him shirtless more times than he could count and he had seen her come out of his guest room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt of his after she stayed the night. His thoughts hadn’t exactly been innocent. But as she pulled her t-shirt over her head, leaving her clad only in that damn red bikini, he was convinced he’d never seen a more gorgeous sight. 

She turned around just as Matthew tore his eyes away, looking mischievously at him. “Last one in?” They sprinted to the water. Matty let her win. 

---

About half of their stops had been planned in advance; the others were pulled from websites or Google suggestions or whatever their waitress’ recommendation was for a local must-see. The Idaho Potato Museum fell into the latter category. Rasmus had floated the idea shortly after they had left Mesa Falls, and seeing as how nobody had anything better to suggest, they ran with it. 

“Free taters for out of staters,” Matthew said, reading off of the pamphlet they had been handed at the welcome desk. 

“Will they give me extra since I’m Canadian?” Madison wondered aloud. “For all intents and purposes they think you live in Missouri, Matty.” The nickname rolled off her tongue so easily, she didn’t even think twice. 

He passed the paper to her, the tips of their fingers barely brushing together, but Matthew could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t get greedy, Mads.” They walked down a dimly-lit hallway lined with black-and-white photos. 

“Did you know that the first potatoes grown in the United States were planted in Londonderry, New Hampshire, by Scotch-Irish immigrants?” Elias read off of a placard, his voice sounding like a disinterested radio announcer. 

Maddy shook her head. “I didn’t, thank you so much for imparting on me this most important knowledge, Elias.”

“My pleasure,” he replied. 

“Did you know that you could survive off of a diet of only potatoes and butter?” Rasmus chimed in, reading another sign. 

“Really?” Matthew asked, leaning in to read. He turned to Madison a moment later. “Really, apparently.”

Half an hour of wandering later, Matthew and Madison had stumbled into the “artifacts” portion of the museum. “What kind of artifacts does a potato museum have?” Maddy asked, looking supremely confused. 

Matthew wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Why don’t we see?” For some reason, he decided it would be a good idea to hold his hand out for her. And for some reason, Maddy took it. 

The “artifacts” turned out to consist of some old farm tools, dusty burlap sacks, and the world’s largest potato chip. Elias and Ramsus were on the other side of the museum, leaving Matthew and Madison to drift through alone. “Crisp, actually,” Matthew said, reading the card under the glass case. “Because I guess they’re worried about people stealing it?”

“There’s a difference?”

He shrugged. “Apparently it’s only a chip if it’s a slice of potato. This was made from dehydrated potato flakes, or something like that.” Maddy wasn’t sure if it was the sepia-tinted lighting, or the lingering memory of how Matty’s fingertips burned like fire against her back as he tied her bikini, or if there was something particularly romantic about dehydrated potato flakes, but they were alone in the room and suddenly she was looking at him a little bit differently. Matthew looked at her, gaze soft as his eyes flickered almost imperceptibly down towards her lips. Her lips. His body leaned in, and just as she closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers, wondering if they were really going to do this in the middle of the Idaho fucking Potato Museum—

“We were wondering where you guys had gone off to!” Elias’s Swedish accent cut through the silence. Matthew threw his head back, silently cursing his teammate’s timing. If Elias and Rasmus realized anything was off, they didn’t say. “The lady at the front said it’s closing in ten minutes, so we thought we should head out and get something to eat.”

Maddy nodded in agreement, her cheeks burning. “Sounds good. I could go for some food.” They made their way back outside, Matthew settling behind the wheel as he steered the car back onto the highway. He tried to shake the almost-kiss from his mind, but the more he tried to forget it, the more the memory stuck. 

Elias looked down at his phone. “Yelp says there’s an Indian place coming up on the left if that sounds good to you guys,” he said, shaking Matthew from his thoughts. 

Maddy scrunched her nose. “All due respect, I don’t trust this town to make good Indian food. Potatoes, burgers, meat, sure. I buy it. But I haven’t seen a single person of color since we left Glacier.” 

“Fair.” 

The burgers were good; nothing to write home about, but Maddy was honestly thrilled to eat something that didn’t come out of a bag. The plan had originally been to drive through the night again to reach Salt Lake City by the early morning, but Maddy made it clear her back didn’t take too well to sleeping in the car, and the others agreed. “Rasmus, mind finding a hotel nearby? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just somewhere not too far off of the freeway,” Madison asked. He nodded, pulling out his phone. They had gotten tired of passing around Matthew’s phone anytime they were out of Wifi range, so after a little complaining and one of Maddy’s puppy-dog eye looks, he finally relented and turned his hotspot on. 

“There’s a Holiday Inn up off of the next exit if that sounds good to you guys,” Rasmus said. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the Post Malone song that Matty had plugged in. They switched the aux every few hours. 

“Yeah, works for me.” Madison hummed her agreement; Matty nodded. Rasmus flicked on the blinkers, gently cruising down the offramp, pulling into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn about half a mile down the road. 

Madison bit the inside of her cheek. “They’re going to have rooms available, yeah?” 

“Mads, it’s May in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. I don’t exactly think they’ve got business lining up out the door.” Matty said, looking at her from the side as they walked into the hotel lobby. 

The whole trip was Matthew’s idea, so he insisted on footing the bill, handing his credit card and license over to the receptionist. Maddy snickered behind her hand. Matthew turned back to look at her, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Something you’d like to share with the class, Madison?”

“Missouri licenses look weird,” she commented.

“And Alberta’s any better?”

She scrunched her nose. “We have a dinosaur on ours. Beat that.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” Matty said, the corner of his lip twitching as he thanked the receptionist, tucking the cards back into his wallet. She handed over the room keys, Matthew passing two to Rasmus and Elias and one to Maddy. “I had us together, if you don’t mind.” 

Madison shook her head. “Fine with me.” It wasn’t unusual for her to stay over at Matthew’s apartment, either after going out or when their movie nights ran a little long and she woke up to Matty tucking her into the bed in his guest room. She had a toothbrush in his bathroom, a change of clothes in the dresser. She had offered to take her stuff back a few months ago, not wanting any girl he might bring over to get the wrong idea. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he had said when she asked, waving her off. Though, come to think of it, he hadn’t brought any girl home — that she knew about — since sometime around the beginning of the year. 

They waved goodbye to Rasmus and Elias, promising to wake up bright and early to get the first crack at the breakfast buffet when it opened at 7. Matty swiped his card, holding the door open when the light turned green and the knob twisted. “After you, m’lady.” 

“Why thank you, good sir,” Maddy giggled, ducking under his arm into the entryway. She stopped at the end of the hall, eyes flickering into the room. 

Matthew stopped behind her. “What’s up?”

“There’s only one bed.”

His head jerked around the corner, not like he doubted her word or anything, but he needed to see it for himself. There was only one bed. One big bed, one very comfortable-looking bed, but one bed. Matty dropped his bag on the floor. “Uh...D’you want me to call down? I can see if they’ve got another room if that would make you more comfortable.”

Madison pursed her lips for a second before shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. We’re adults, we can share a bed without burning the house down.” It wasn’t like Maddy was lying for Matthew’s sake; she really was fine with it. Maybe a little too fine. But they had slept together — in the innocent sense of the word — before, and everything had turned out okay. His arm draped over her shoulder as she cuddled into his shoulder on a late night, her legs tangled in his when some of his friends from St. Louis were visiting for the weekend and took the guest room. He had offered to take the couch that night, but Maddy didn’t want to relegate him to a night of back cramps and drafty breezes, especially when he had an early practice the next day. Nobody ever made it weird, so it wasn’t weird. 

She took her bundle of clothes into the shower, relishing in the feeling of hot water raining down on her aching muscles. Maddy was loving the trip, genuinely, but being in a car for twelve hours out of the day took something out of a person. Slipping into an old college t-shirt, Madison thought for a moment about putting on a pair of sweats. It wasn’t particularly cold — the opposite, in fact — but she didn’t know if it would make Matthew feel weird if she wasn’t wearing pants. Fuck it, she thought, pulling up her boyshorts. If he had an issue with it, it was his problem. Throwing her hair up in a towel to dry, she turned the doorknob, poking her head out the door. “Shower’s open if you wanted to hop in,” she said.

Matty nodded, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I shouldn’t be too long, why don’t you find something for us to watch?” he asked, tossing her the remote. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock, and while she was tired, Maddy knew if she tried to go to sleep she’d wake up well before dawn, and that wasn’t something anyone wanted. Madison climbed up onto the bed, tucking her feet underneath her and grabbed the channel guide. True to his word, Matthew was in and out in under ten minutes, rubbing his hair with a towel as he walked out. Athletic shorts. Shirtless. Maddy couldn’t help but give him the once-over, having to jerk her eyes back up to his face the moment she realized what she was doing. Matthew met her eyes, the ghost of a smirk playing on his face. “I can put a shirt on if you’d like…”

“No! You’re good,” Maddy replied, maybe a little too quickly to avoid suspicion. 

He ducked back into the bathroom, throwing the towel over the shower curtain. “So, what did you settle on?”

She looked back at the TV. “Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives?”

Matty jumped onto the bed. “Guy Fieri. What a legend. Awesome. Where’s he going?”

Three and a half episodes later, it was almost eleven, and Madison’s eyes were starting to droop. Sometime midway through the second episode, when Guy was visiting an Asian fusion restaurant in Colorado, her head had drifted onto Matthew’s shoulder, where it had stayed ever since. His arm wrapped loosely around her, Matty brought his hand up to brush away a stray piece of hair that had drifted into her face. “Getting sleepy, Mads?”

She yawned, nodding and trying to push herself up. “‘M looking forward to a good night’s sleep in an actual bed.”

Matthew laughed softly. “Let’s get you in bed, then.” He threw back the comforter, Madison crawling under, and reached over to the nightstand, turning off the lamps and TV. “Give me your phone,” he said. 

“Why?” Maddy asked, her brow furrowing. 

“You always forget to charge it overnight, and I don’t want you to be grumpy when it dies at 10 AM.” She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a concession, handing over her iPhone. Matty plugged it in, clambering beneath the sheets. “Sweet dreams, Mads. Good night.”

“Night, Matty.”

 Day 3

 The first thing Madison noticed when she woke up was the warm, unfamiliar weight slung around her waist. It took her a moment to realize that it was Matty’s arm, who hadn’t woken up yet. For some reason that she couldn’t quite identify, or maybe didn’t want to confront quite yet, it wasn’t unwelcome at all, and she savored the last few minutes of physical closeness before he woke up. And he did, wake up, that is. His cheeks reddened as he opened his eyes, pulling his arm away to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.

Maddy ducked her head. “Nothing to be sorry about. I didn’t mind.”

Matthew yawned. “What time is it?”

“Uh, just before seven,” she said, rolling over to look at the alarm clock. “I’d love to stay in bed a little longer, but we did promise the boys we’d meet them down at breakfast soon.”

He nodded, making a very concerted effort to not read into her statements any more than he absolutely had to. “Yeah, good idea,” he said, tossing the covers off and walking into the bathroom. “I’ll sit on you if you’re not up by the time I get back out there.” Maddy took the opportunity to change, threading a belt through her jeans and half-tucking a t-shirt. “I like the look,” he said when he walked out, as Maddy was twisting her hair up into a bun. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Matthew to compliment her; she had accompanied him to more than one charity event for the Flames as his date, but she had always been dressed up. Dress, heels, makeup that she probably stressed way too much over. Dressed to the nines, never in jeans and a t-shirt before. But she didn’t really notice, the compliment meaning just as much to her as if she’d been in a floor-length gown. 

“Thanks,” she said, stuffing her clothes from the night before back into her duffel. “I packed the rest of your bag while you were in there, figured I might as well.”

It was Matty’s turn to thank her, squeezing her hand appreciatively before giving the room a quick look. “We didn’t forget anything, then?”

Madison laughed. “We really didn’t stay long enough to unpack, but yeah, we’ve got everything, don’t worry.”

---

Elias had volunteered to do the drive down to Salt Lake City. Matthew’s inner six-year-old had returned, insisting that the group stop at a dinosaur park in a rural part of Utah. What “dinosaur park” meant, Madison wasn’t sure, but it made Matty happy, so she didn’t fight it. 

The museum was mostly outdoors, with life-sized dinosaur models dotting the massive field. “Were you much into dinosaurs as a kid?” Matthew asked Madison. 

“Kind of?” she replied noncommittally. “I always loved learning about them, but never had like a ‘dinosaur phase’ like David or Cody,” she said, referring to her older brothers. “My family used to go to the Canadian Museum of Nature a ton when I was a kid, since it was only a few hours away in Ottawa, and it has like a billion fossils in it.”

“Which was your favorite?”

“Pachycephalosaurus,” she said easily.

Matthew blinked. “Pachycephalo-what?” he asked in confusion. He thought he knew all of them?

Maddy laughed. “Pachycephalosaurus. They had these really spiny heads. But secretly, I think I was a little bit of a teacher’s pet who just liked saying the name. Pretty sure they were actually native to Alberta?” she added. “What about you?”

“Well, now I’m embarrassed to say.”

“Oh, come on,” Madison said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Promise I won’t make fun of you.”

“Fine, fine,” Matty gave in, “it was the brachiosaurus.”

“How come?” she asked curiously. 

“I liked the long necks.” 

They spent another hour or so at the park, Matty grabbing a keychain on the way out. “They didn’t have a brachiosaurus,” he muttered, half-angry, picking up a T-rex one instead. It wasn’t a long drive to the actual Great Salt Lake, and for some reason, they had trusted Elias with the aux. Much to Maddy’s chagrin, he didn’t end up playing ABBA, and they were instead led to cruise down I-15 to the dulcet tones of J.S. Bach. 

Madison looked down at her phone. “Anyone want to go see the Joseph Smith sphinx?” 

“Joseph Smith?” Rasmus questioned.

“Sphinx?” asked Elias.

Matthew laughed. “You know those Egyptian statues of like the cat ladies? Where they have cat bodies but the faces of people?” 

“Joseph Smith was the founder of the Mormon church,” Madison explained. “Well, technically it’s called the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, but—”

“Know-it-all,” Matty said in a sing-song voice. Madison shot a glare at him from the back seat. 

“But most people still call them Mormons. And apparently they made him into a sphinx.”

Elias looked at her, still dumbfounded. “But why?”

Maddy shrugged. “Honestly? Beats me.” The weather had dropped too much by the time they had reached the lake to make swimming very practical, so the four of them settled for taking off their shoes, rolling up pants, and wading into the shoreline. 

Matthew bent down, picking up a chipped white rock from the ground, the water just lapping at his fingers. He handed it to Madison. “For you.”

She took it gently, running her hands over the jagged surface. “Aren’t you not allowed to take anything from a national park?”

He winked. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” They stopped at a Chipotle just as the sun was beginning to set, Matthew taking over driving duties from Rasmus. The plan was to drive for another two hours or so, stopping somewhere in southern Utah for the night to spare themselves from another night spent in her Nissan. 

They drove in silence for a while, Elias and Rasmus drifting to sleep in the back row, before a road sign caught Matty’s eyes and he spoke. “I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon, you know,” he said as they continued down I-15. 

Maddy looked over at him. “Do you want to go?” She didn’t know where the suggestion came from, but it was out of her mouth before she could take it back, and after a moment, she realized that she didn’t even want to.

His eyebrows raised as he glanced over at her before turning back to the road, the car’s headlights the only thing in sight. “You mean it?” 

Madison shrugged. “Yeah, why not?” She quickly popped the directions into her phone. “It’s only a few hours out of the way, if we drive through the night instead of stopping somewhere we should have more than enough time.” 

“But didn’t you say sleeping in the car made your back hurt?” Matty asked curiously. 

She smiled softly. “I don’t mind, really. I’ll drive. You’re more important.” Honestly, Maddy surprised herself with her boldness. She wasn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, but it hadn’t escaped her that the dynamic between her and Matthew had changed in the past few weeks and was about to come to a boil. Matty wasn’t exactly the type of guy Madison expected to have a lot of friends who were girls. And a part of her hated that, hated that because of his reputation she automatically assumed when they became friends that all he wanted to do was get in her pants. There had only been one time in their entire year of friendship when they’d even done so much as kissed, and it wasn’t exactly what you’d consider normal circumstances.

---

It was November of the previous year, about six months after Matthew and Madison had met. Matthew had been even more in his head than normal; he hadn’t scored a single point since midway through their East Coast road trip over two weeks ago, and the disappointment was really starting to rag on him. It might not have been something he outwardly showed all that much, but those who knew him knew that Matthew was actually a deeply sensitive person, who took pride in his wins and carried losses with him well after they had faded from the minds of the rest of the hockey world. 

When it had gotten to the point where his frustration was starting to affect his game, Maddy knew it was time to do something. “You’re so much more than your stats, Matty,” she had said, calling him right before she left for the Saddledome. “I know you take this personally, and you feel like you’re letting down the team, but that’s bullshit and somewhere deep down, I know you agree.” Matthew grumbled something that might have been an agreement. “Your team trusts you, they trust you with the puck and with the A, and you’re never going to disappoint them as long as you’re giving it your all. And if you’re the Matthew Tkachuk I know, there’s never a time when you don’t. And win or lose tonight, there’s nothing you could do to change the fact that your family loves you, and your friends love you, and I love you too. Okay?” Clearly, something in her little pep talk had flipped a switch in Matty, because he returned in spectacular form that night, scoring a hat trick in a roaring 5-1 win over the Coyotes. And he didn’t throw a single punch all game. 

A good game without a travel day following usually calls for going out, and a great game with your best friend scoring a hat trick definitely calls for going out, so she dragged Emily along to the bar that Matthew had told her to meet the team at. Matthew had pulled her into a hug the moment she arrived, kissing her cheek and trying his damndest not to spill the beer in his hand on her shoes. An hour and a half into the night, Madison was four drinks in, well and truly drunk, and Emily had wandered off and appeared to be flirting with an extremely oblivious Noah Hanifin. 

“How are you doing, Mads?” Matthew asked, coming up from behind her barstool and resting his hand gently on the small of her back. 

She looked back at him, a goofy smile on her face, and took another sip of her drink. “I’m good, I’m realllly good,” she giggled. “Did I ever get a chance to tell you how good you were tonight?” Matthew shook his head, very poorly concealing a laugh. He had had more than one beer, sure, but he was nowhere near as gone as Madison. “Because you were really good. A-ma-zing,” she added, punctuating each syllable. Her eyes softened as she leaned in. “I know the points drought was starting to weigh on you, and I’m really glad you were able to do this for yourself. I’m always proud of you, Matty, but I was a little extra proud of you tonight. People sometimes write you off as just another good player without any real subsistence,” she paused, correcting herself, “substance, off the ice, but I know the real you, and the real you is even more incredible than the you that plays hockey. It’s my favorite thing to see.”

“It is?” Matthew asked softly, leaning into the hand that had begun to caress his cheek a little bit imprecisely, but that somehow communicated every kind of unsaid word between them. 

Madison nodded, touching his forehead to hers, and then she tilted in. And then she kissed him. Her lips met his, and she tasted like lime and spearmint chewing gum and his favorite kind of tequila. Her lips met his, and it seemed like the room stood still; he barely heard his teammates’ wolf-whistles or Emily’s elated gasp in the background. Her lips met his, and he drank in every second of the kiss until she pulled away. 

---

Maddy hadn’t been drunk enough to black out that night, and she came to the next morning with a roaring headache and the pang of regret in her heart. She thought it was shame at her behavior, embarrassment that she could act so impulsively, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized. The fact that she kissed Matthew wasn’t the issue, not to her, at least. It was the fact that she was drunk in a bar after a hockey game and that wasn’t how she wanted it to happen. She pushed her feelings to the side, trying desperately to focus on work and supporting Matty through the rest of the season, but they always tended to flare up when they were least welcome. Like at the Idaho Potato Museum.

Which of course meant that Matthew would choose this moment, driving down I-15 with two sleeping Swedish hockey players in the backseat, to bring it up. “I remember when you kissed me, you know,” Matty said softly, reaching up to brush his fingers over his lips, like if he tried hard enough he could remember what it felt like to have Maddy’s pressed against his. 

Madison froze, which isn’t exactly what you’re supposed to do when you’re driving. She thought he had forgotten. He had never brought it up, so she really had no reason to believe he would have remembered. “You do?” she asked, swallowing.

She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. “Mhm. I hadn’t thought about it in a couple weeks, but back in Idaho, in front of the World’s Largest Potato Crisp…” He let out an airy chuckle. 

Maddy breathed in sharply. So she hadn’t imagined that. Her fingers tapped nervously against the faux leather of the steering wheel. “Yeah…” She trailed off nervously. “I was drunk.”

“Oh, you were hammered,” Matthew agreed. “But do you regret it?”

There it was, the million-dollar question that she somehow actually had the answer to. A long moment passed before she answered, figuring it would be best to just rip the band-aid off. Worst case, Matty would hate her and she’d only be stuck in a car with him for ten-odd more hours. No big deal. “No,” she whispered, voice so small he almost didn’t hear it. 

“I’m glad, because I don’t either,” Matty said. Madison hazarded a glance to her side; he looked almost nervous, and nervous wasn’t a look Matthew Tkachuk did all that often. “I had wanted to for a few months, but it always seemed like it was never the right time, or something interrupted us, or I didn’t know how you felt about me. But you made the first move, and I’m glad you did.”

“How come?”

He sighed. “I don’t know how long I would have waited to do something, or if I ever would have done anything. I feel like sometimes…,” he searched for the right words, “the confidence that I have on the ice can be misleading. Hockey is about reflexes and instincts and knowing the game, but it’s also thinking three steps ahead, anticipating every possible outcome and preparing for them. And that’s the part that I carry off the ice. I think I was worried if I ever brought it up with you, if I ever mentioned that I so much as remembered the kiss, you might clam up and tell me it was a stupid, drunken mistake, and I don’t know what I’d do if you said that. Because I don’t know how you feel about me, not like that”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she managed to force the words out, as scared as she was about admitting them. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” Matthew had never seen Madison like this before, unsure and worried and downright vulnerable, and it meant so much to him that she was letting him see her like that. 

Matthew let out a watery laugh. “Only pretty sure? Hurts my ego a little bit.” Maddy opened her mouth, but he waved her off. “Because I’m definitely sure I’m in love with you.” This wasn’t ever how she imagined telling him, and it wasn’t how Matty thought he’d tell her, on a freeway in Southern Utah on their way to the Grand Canyon, but sometimes life throws unexpected things at you and you have to roll with the punches. 

“When did you know?” Madison asked curiously. 

Matthew bit his lip. “Few months ago? I knew I liked you as more than a friend probably since you kissed me, but it was after that game against Vancouver that I really understood I had fallen in love with you.” Maddy remembered the game. It had gone terribly for the Flames, a 4-0 shutout with more than one fight and the bench racking up penalty minutes. What she didn’t know was what made that one special. Matthew looked over at her, answering her unspoken question. “Why that one?” She nodded. “I think it’s because it was such a shitty game. I wouldn’t have blamed you at all if you had just skipped out after the end of the third, I know I can be hard to deal with after a loss. But you didn’t leave, you stayed. I remember seeing you outside the tunnel, swallowed by my jersey because it’s three sizes too big for you and you refuse to let me buy you another—”

“I don’t want another because it’s yours, and I love it,” Maddy said quietly.

Matthew smiled. “Your call. But when I turned the corner and saw you, I realized three things at the exact same time. You were there for me when you didn’t have to be, and I wanted to be able to do the same thing for you. Second, you’re who I wanted to come home to. And last,” he gathered his thoughts, “I realized if I never saw another girl in my jersey for the rest of my life, that would be fine with me.”

“I think I knew when you introduced me to your family, when you flew me down for the All-Star break?” He nodded in recognition. “Just seeing you with them, how much you love your parents and adore Taryn. You even managed to not chirp Brady for a whole dinner.”

“My mom threatened me.”

Madison laughed. “Even so. It just gave me a whole new side to you. I had seen you with your friends, and with the boys, and with me, but it wasn’t the same. How deeply you cared about making sure I fit in with them, and had fun, and felt included. It was the last piece of the puzzle, really.” Her hand rested on the center console after she downshifted.

“So, are we going to do this? Do you want to do this, Mads?” Matty asked, wrapping his fingertips gently around her free hand. 

Flipping her hand around, she interlaced her fingers with his. “I’m all in if you are.”

Matthew bent down, kissing their hands. “I’ve been all in since the moment I met you.” He glanced behind him to the backseat, where Elias and Rasmus were still fast asleep. “What do you think they’re going to say when they wake up?” 

“I’m not sure,” Madison said, laughing. “Probably tell us it’s about time. Pass me my phone, will you?” Matthew pulled out her phone from where it was charging on the passenger side. 

“What do you need to look up?” he asked curiously as she pulled off of the freeway and into a gas station; the directions were already programmed into the car’s navigation system.

Maddy gave a coy smile, gently putting the car into park. “I’ve got to text the girl’s chat, tell them they’ve got to make me a jacket. They’re going to go wild.”

 Day 4

 The chat did go wild, even more so after she sent a picture of her kissing Matty’s cheek. After about a half-dozen “we called its” and a promise for her jacket to be ready by the first home game of the series, she turned her phone off, leaning over to ruffle Matthew’s hair; he had taken over driving sometime around four o’clock. “I like that I can just do this now,” she mused, playing with his curls as they crossed the border into Arizona. 

“Please, no PDA in front of the children,” he said playfully, gesturing to the backseat. Elias flipped him off. 

The entrance to the Grand Canyon was only an hour past the state line, and there were more than a few cafés to grab a quick breakfast at. Most of the day was spent walking around the vast expanse of the park, marvelling at its natural grandeur, and taking more than a few incredibly aesthetically pleasing Instagram pictures. A few minutes before they had to pack up and leave for the last leg of the drive, they had hiked over to the South Rim. 

Matty leaned on the barriers overlooking the canyon. “It’s so big.” 

Rasmus snickered from behind them. “Duh, Tkachuk. That’s why they call it grand.” 

He ducked his head, blushing. “Yeah, I mean, obviously. But it’s just kind of surreal, you know?” Madison nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and if either of them had turned around they would have seen Rasmus and Elias sharing a very “I-told-you-so” look. “Kind of reminds us how small we are in the grand scheme of things.” 

It seemed like only a few minutes later that they were pulling into Las Vegas, Rasmus steering the car into the underground lot of the team hotel. None of the boys were expected at practice until the next morning, and they had decided before leaving that the easiest thing to do would just be to book the rooms for the one night. 

“Anyone feeling up to going out?” Maddy asked as they walked down the hallway to their adjoining rooms. “I found a tiki bar a couple blocks away, great Yelp reviews.”

“Sounds good,” Rasmus said. Elias nodded. 

“I’m in,” Matthew added, unlocking the door. “Meet out here in ten?”

The break allowed Madison to get a much-needed change of clothes while Matthew hopped in for a quick shower, emerging in a T-shirt and very, very nice-looking pair of black jeans. Maddy bit her lip, looking him up and down. “You like what you see?” Matthew asked, expression cocky. 

She shrugged. “I don’t have to hide it now.” Madison slipped her phone into her back pocket, grabbing her jacket from where it was slung over the lounge chair. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Matthew said, poking his head out the door. “Boys are already out.”

The walk to the bar couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it felt like twenty in the best way possible. She was holding hands with Matty, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing over the top of her hand, the twinkling lights of dozens of Vegas casinos in their view. Two and a half mai tais and an hour later, the group sat at a table in the corner as Maddy giggled, retelling a particularly embarrassing moment on her high school volleyball team when she tried to make a dive that instead ended up with a ten minute pause in gameplay and the worst nosebleed of her life. She finished the story to raucous laughter, leaning into Matthew’s side. He bent down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What is it, Matty?” she asked, pulling away to look at him. 

Eyes soft, he tucked a piece of her hair back behind her ear before speaking. “Just thanking God I invited you on the trip. And for the Idaho Potato Museum.”

Madison laughed, the sound like music as it reached his ears. “We should write them. Thank them for helping to get us together. Maybe they’d give us season tickets.”

“Who needs season tickets when I have you?” Matty chuckled, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers.  Sure, Madison was a few drinks in when she kissed him. And sure, it wasn’t like Matty was exactly sober either. But this kiss was different. This kiss was the start of everything. 

[fatal-error-blog]

A Peaceful_Fundraiser has Occurred - An Effort to Fight Against Racial Injustice!

Hey everyone, this is going to be a long (but important) post. Given the title of this post, I’m sure you know what I’m about to mention. So before I get started I just want to say that it’s totally okay to not want to see this on your dash, coming from this blog specifically. While this is a really important issue that shouldn’t be shied away from, I do 1000% recognize that this blog has always been (very purposefully) kept as a fun and safe place for us all to enjoy a good story together. Heck, this blog is a safe place for me, too. I like knowing that I can come here and focus on content that makes me happy, and that makes you all happy, and just escape from how gross the world can be for a little while. But I also realize that I have the power to do some good, and I want to try to do some good, with your help, hopefully. I want you to know that it’s okay if you don’t want to see mention of what’s going on out there, here.

Any post I make on this blog that specifically references the racial injustice movement going on right now will be tagged with ‘FE BLM Fundraiser’. You are more than welcome to block that tag so you don’t have to see it here. It’s truly okay, I promise.

With that being said, let’s get into this!

I’ve never done anything like this before, so please bear with me! But like I said, I want to do some good with your help, hopefully. So I’ve made a charity fundraiser page where the proceeds will be going to the Black Lives Matter Global Network. If you’re not aware, there has been a lot of turbulence regarding racial injustice and police brutality going on all over the world, centered mostly in the United States. There are so many resources out there with information on what’s going on and different ways you can help (even without donating any money!) and I encourage you to do your research if it’s something you feel you need to be more enlightened on. I took a couple of days to think about how I wanted to help, and I thought that a fundraiser with awesome goals could be a really great thing! To be honest I’m not sure if we’ll reach many goals, but I think it’s worth a try, and no matter what, every little bit helps :) So here’s the deal:

A link to the donation page is here: https://secure.actblue.com/donate/fatal-error-blog

This fundraiser will run through the month of June, all the way up until midnight, June 30th EST!

Anyone who donates at least $15 will be able to receive a free commission from me!

Commissions will be a colored character bust (so like, from the top of their head to just below their shoulders) of a character of your choosing (not necessarily just Undertale themed, and can also include original characters or characters in different fandoms). This is a bit cheaper than my normal commission rate, so it’s a great opportunity to get some cool art if you’ve always wanted some!

If you want to claim your free commission, you need to: 1) Contact me via tumblr (@xedramon or @fatal-error-blog) or via email (xedramon@gmail.com) saying you’d like your commission

2) Send me a screenshot of your (at least) $15 donation

3) Tell me the name of the character you want, and a reference picture I can use

*** You MUST contact me to get your commission. Pretty sure I’m not able to see how much people donate so I will have no way to reach out to you, so you have to reach out to me first! Commissions will get done as quickly as possible, and will be sent via however you contacted me (so either tumblr or email)

FUNDRAISER GOALS!

So along with the commissions, there are community goals we can all reach together! I feel like some of the higher goals are a bit daunting to reach, but if we reach them, good for us! Each goal has a fun reward attached to it that I think is worth the goal we’re trying to reach. $50 - Everyone here gets to vote on an Undertale AU to be featured in an upcoming chapter of A Fatal_Error has Occurred! It can be anything, from an AU that hasn’t appeared yet, to one that already has, to one that you think would be hilarious or cool to see, whatever! Only stipulation is that the creator of that AU has to give me permission to include it. If this goal is reached, I’ll make a list of the AUs people want to see in order of what was voted for, just in case the 1st place winner doesn’t give me permission, I’ll check with 2nd place, and so on.

$100 - I’ll host a Game Night Livestream! We’ll pick a date, and play some stream-friendly games (like Jackbox Party Pack!) for several hours! Perhaps we’ll even do two nights so that people can choose which night works better for them :)

$175 - I’ll host a 12 Hour Art Livestream! What’ll happen is that the stream session will be broken down into different segments (so maybe for a couple hours we do a request stream, and then we switch to working on something else, etc). People will have the opportunity to vote on the date we do the stream.

$250 - Everyone here gets to vote on which side comic I work on next! This means I’ll give everyone a couple of choices to pick from with a brief idea of what each side comic would be about. Everyone votes, and I’ll start on the winning side comic immediately. This is a great opportunity to basically demand that you get to see what you’re most excited about sooner rather than later!

$500 - This goal guarantees that Chapter Five of A Fatal_Error has Occurred will be completed by the end of THIS YEAR. Which is some seriously insane pacing, but hey if we reach this goal, a promise is a promise!

$750 - I will create a (hopefully awesome) Fatal_Error animation! I have a couple of ideas in mind, and perhaps I’ll let you all vote on what idea you’d like to see come to life the most. I am the most nervous about this goal, haha!

$1000 - I’ll host a 24 Hour Art Livestream!!! That means exactly what it sounds like! We’ll pick a date, I’ll take the most intense nap the world has ever known before we start, and then we’re gonna stream for 24 hours straight. I’ll set up a schedule so we do different things every few hours to keep it interesting. It’ll be so rad!

$2000 - Everyone here gets to vote on an Undertale themed tattoo (an honest to goodness permanent one) that I will, 100%, absolutely get! How this will work is that everyone will be able to suggest what I should get, I’ll pick a handful of the most popular ideas (that I’m cool with having on my body for the rest of forever) and you all will get to vote on what I get! This would, of course, occur once tattoo shops are allowed to open back up and it’s safe for me to go get one. But I promise you, I’ll do it and it’s gonna be AWESOME.

$3000 - Last but certainly not least, if this goal is reached then I will resume working on Sondertale again, alongside working on A Fatal_Error has Occurred. What’s Sondertale? Well, it’s another UT AU comic I started on before I ever began Fatal_Error’s comic. I ended up setting it aside so that I could focus on Fatal’s comic instead, and over time there has been some...surprisingly popular demand/request that I return to working on it. Originally I was going to consider what to do with it after Fatal’s comic is done, but if this rather large goal is reached then I will pick right back up where we left off and commit to finishing the comic, in it’s originally intended comic format. It’ll be a LOT of work (which is why getting a legitimate permanent tattoo is an easier goal to reach than this) but if we work together to donate this much, then it’ll be absolutely worth it.

And that’s it for the goals! I think that the higher goals will be plenty hard to reach, but if somehow we surpass the highest goal then uhh...I guess we’ll talk about what kind of goals you all might like to see after that, haha.

This fundraiser will run through the rest of June - so if you would like to donate and help contribute to seeing some of these goals realized, please do!

I will reblog this post on the following days: June 7th, June 14th, June 21st, and June 28th as a reminder, and also to update everyone on how the fundraiser is going. As goals are hit, I’ll also mention them on the blog so we can all share in the excitement of what’s to come!

Thank you so, so, so much for your consideration, your help, and your support. Please stay safe, stay hopeful, and stay determined.

Link to fundraiser page: https://secure.actblue.com/donate/fatal-error-blog

[sanakoreanlangblr]

2021 Goals

Heyy! I’ve decided to put my goals for this year here, hoping that that might motivate me further, and maybe motivate someone else as well. Good luck everyone! And please take extra care of yourselves and your health, mental or otherwise! Everything else can wait.

This year has been difficult for all of us. As for me, even now, the upcoming semester is a big question mark. Currently I’m studying in France, and this semester I was supposed to go on an exchange to Taiwan buuuut that’s not happening anymore, as it has been cancelled. So per my school’s requirements I need to find an internship in the place of expatriation, which is a pain now. And that basically just means I have no idea where I’m going to be in the coming year or what I’m gonna be doing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Sorry, needed to complain for a bit, as I am going absolutely insane with the stress…

Anywayyyy, I still hope I will be able to uphold most of these goals, wherever I will end up. I tried to not make them overly big, so that I won’t get burned out too fast. But I have a whole year for those, some of these have dates for which I could expect to finish but I will not keep to them very strictly. Whatever happens, happens :))

Also, sorry if there are any mistakes, English is not my first language!

Korean (A2 -> B1)

1. Do 100 lessons of grammar from the HowToStudyKorean website.

I’ve started a few grammar books but in the end decided to settle on this website as I like its explanations best, and it provides the most example sentences when introducing each point. A nice touch is also the fact that it includes a list of a number of new words before each chapter, which gives me some new vocabulary to learn :)

So far I’ve divided the grammar points introduced in lessons into „to learn”, „to revise”, „already know”, and turns out I have:

66 „to learn”

35 „to revise”

32 „already know”

So if I did 3 points a week, I should be done around August.

2. Read 2 little stories per week from “Easy Korean Reading for Beginners”.

There is 30 stories in the first one (I already did 5), so I should be done by the middle of April.

3. Do one chapter per week from “My first hanja guide”.

I just got this book for Christmas and haven’t had the time to fully go through it so we will see how it goes.

4. Do Anki at least three times a week.

Every day would be preferable but I know that would last like a week at most.

5. Have iTalki lesson at least once a week.

That one is not a problem as I have been doing one or two per week for the last year, but I would just like to keep it up.

6. Try writing at least twice a month, and at least 2 pages.

Yeahhh that one is a bit of a bother, as writing still takes me a long time so we will leave it a twice a month and see how it goes.

7. Watch one youtube video per week on Korean grammar or vocabulary.

Generally I would say my goal is to use Korean more, as I know quite a lot but when I’m speaking I tend to go towards the easier words and grammar, which is why I am thinking that writing more could help me. And also I really want to focus on learning vocabulary as that’s always been a pain for me, I’m more of a grammar lover :))

French (A2 -> hoping for upper B1/ beginning of B2)

1. Finish the intermediate grammar book. I’m currently doing „Grammaire Progressive du Français” Intermediate edition, for A2/B1.

The problem is that my grammar knowledge of french is a mess , so going through this book is a bit of an annoyance, as most chapters I technically know but each time I find some nuance I wasn’t aware of... therefore I need to go through it, even the chapters I would have assumed I know :|

So I divided the chapters the same way I did Korean, into „to learn”, „to revise”, „already know”, and I ended up with:

14 „to learn”

34 „to revise”

4 „already know”

So technically if I did 2 points a week, I should be done in June.

2. Read the two french books I got for Christmas (“Les aventures d’Alice au pays des merveilles” and “Le tour du monde en quatre-vingts jours”).

3. Read at least two of the Harry Potter books in French.

I have started the first one this week, and I can tell it’s gonna be a very very slow process. It’s the first book I’m reading in french so it’s a bit difficult and frustrating but hopefully it’ll get better as I go along.

4. Watch at least 4 french movies, with french subtitles.

5. Learn a french song.

6. Read one story per week from „French Stories for Beginners”.

These are quite easy, but they are a nice practice for switching to books later on.

I don’t know if I’m gonna keep this one in, depends on how much my reading of actual books will progress.

7. Get to point 5 on the Duolingo tree.

I use Duolingo mostly as a revision tool, so I’m not really going to focus on it much, but still want to keep it up.

8. Watch one YouTube video per week (on any topic).

9. Listen to two podcasts per month.

10. At least one iTalki lesson per week.

11. Do Anki at least 3 times a week.

I really need to listen to french more, as I’m good at reading and I usually understand that pretty well, and I’m not the worst as speaking, but I am absolutely terrible at listening :| So that’s a priority.

Chinese (tbh I don’t know...end of HSK1/Beginning of HSK2 -> let’s say the goal is HSK3 for this year)

1. Finish the book „Integrated Chinese”

I’m having a tough time to pick a book from which to learn but I guess for now I’ll continue with that one.

Again, I divided the points in the book to „to learn”, „to revise”, „already know”, and ended up with:

47 „to learn”

11 „to revise”

15 „already know”

So doing 2 a week I should be done in July.

2. Learn 15 characters a day

I am way behind on learning characters.. I remember the words well but I didn’t put enough time to learn the characters at the start and now that’s gonna be a bit annoying to catch up on :|

3. Finish the drama „Go Ahead”.

4. Watch 3 Chinese movies, with both English and Chinese subtitles.

5. Have one Italki lesson per week.

6. Learn a children song in Chinese

7. Watch one youtube video per week on grammar.

8. Do Anki twice a week.

Generally focus more on characters. My speaking isn’t terrible (well besides the tones), but I need to work on the grammar a bit more as I seem to mess up the structures quite frequently. I need to put more work outside of my lessons. Since I found out I’m actually not going to Taiwan this semester my motivation has fallen a bit, but on the other hand I now have more time to prepare for fall, at which point I will hopefully be able to go!

Personal

Read 20 books.

I have always loved reading but in the past two years the amount of books I’ve read has gone down, which upsets me a bit…  On the other hand the amount of fanfiction I’ve read is tremendous, so there’s that. However I would like to make more effort to read this year, especially since I’ve accumulated a huge pile of books over those few years.

2. Workout regularly.

Right now I’m at home, so that should be easy to do. I don’t really know what’s gonna happen this semester, so we’ll see what I’m going to do about that later.

3. Eat better.

Meaning: cut down on sugar, eat more veggies and fruit.

4. Get a bit closer to my ideal weight

I’m not necessarily focusing on that this year as the previous one has been hell and really managed to deteriorate my mental health back to high school levels... but still hopefully working out a bit and eating less sugar, more veggies, I will be able to lose a tiny bit of weight. But overall I just want to focus on being a bit healthier.

5. Clean out my wardrobe

Sorry that’s a silly one but I’ve been getting to it for half a year now and I’m just too lazy to do that... maybe once I put it here I will have some motivation

6. Take care of my face and hair

So my sensitive skin hates wearing masks and needs extra care these days I need to really focus on it and baby it, to not go back to the awful red mess it was two months ago

As for my hair, I have kind of 3a curls which I haven’t been taking care of properly and plus I damaged them with hair dye (still I refuse to give up ginger hair, I blame Merida). So now during lockdown and quarantine season I finally had some time to read up on hair care of curls, and honestly after a month I can already see the difference, and well I hope for the best :)))

7. Get a tattoo

It’s something I’ve always put off since I either didn’t have the money or time. And now again both are problematic, so I will wait for the decision until I know what my school semester is going to be like. Maybe this time I will find a good moment! (Although honestly saving up for travelling after all this is over is also a great idea :))) )

8. Don’t go to sleep at 5

Yeah so during lockdown and because of online classes my sleeping schedule got so messed up I don’t even know what to do about it anymore. And while my goal isn’t to switch it to 10 pm, cutting it to 2 am at max would be nice

9. Watch 25 movies

10. Sell/donate the things that I don’t need

I’ve accumulated a huge pile of books, movies, CDs, Xbox games, art products - that I need to get rid of - and I’ve been saying that for like three years now, about the same pile of things. I will try to do that one this year!

I hope everyone’s 2021 will be a ton better than 2020! Keep fighting!

[imaginejamesandsirius]

I love the way you write James and Sirius so much. I was wondering if you could write a soulmate au where you see bits and pieces of your soulmate in your dreams (fav color, hear their laugh, see things they like, etc) and James is pretty sure Sirius is his soulmate but isn’t completely sure. If not, don’t worry about it but if you can, thank you!💕💕

Soulmate dreams were different from regular dreams. Regular dreams were weird, often nonsensical, and evaporated the next day after being awake for long enough. Soulmate dreams lingered. There was still a dreamlike quality to soulmate visions that couldn't be shaken, but they were more memorable than normal dreams. Soulmate dreams were weird for a lot of reasons, but mostly it was because they were so random. You never knew what you were going to get from one or why. Sometimes it was stuff they saw or were thinking about, and other times it was them. 

For example, James knew that his soulmate had hair that went down at least to their chin, probably a little bit longer. He knew that because that day at Hogwarts, they'd been playing with their hair, and that night, he dreamed about it. He'd been aware of the professor at the front of the classroom during the dream, but after he woke, the only detail that remained was the hair. 

Obviously that was just an example of a single dream. The dreams didn't come every night, but James had been dreaming of his soulmate for his entire life. He had a few details of his soulmate and how he could identify them, but most of it was stuff that his soulmate liked. 

That's why James thought that his soulmate was Sirius. Sirius had the long hair, he had a laugh that warmed James to his core, and he had deep grey eyes that James had caught glimmers of from time looking in a mirror. 

Soulmate dreams never showed the full face or let your hear someone saying their name. Hearing a laugh was pretty good, as far as identifying features went. If James could actually remember how it sounded instead of the way it made him feel, he'd know for sure if it was Sirius. 

Another reason that he wasn't one hundred percent about it being Sirius was that most of his soulmate dreams were about food. Sodding food. Sirius was his best mate and all, and he knew him better than anyone else in his entire life, but Sirius's appetite seemed to change based on the planet's position and how late he'd stayed up the night before. James couldn't make heads or tails of it. Sometimes, Sirius said that he couldn't stand scrambled eggs and how dare he have to smell them on an otherwise pleasant morning. Two days later, he was wolfing them down like there was no other food in existence. And he did that with everything. Shepherd's pies, treacle tarts, beans and toast, soup... everything. Absolutely everything. 

So it didn't really mean anything that one night James dreamed of mashed potatoes, and the next week, he dreamed of candied plums. He tried to connect it to Sirius's eating habits, but it was no use. Half the shite James's soulmate dreamed about wasn't food that Hogwarts had, anyways. 

"Hey, Sirius?" James asked. They were in the library, doing homework. History of Magic would be a lot easier to pass if the professor actually looked at them every once in a while, but it meant that when they had an essay they needed to write, they had to actually go to the library if they wanted good marks. 

"I'm not done with this yet," Sirius said, assuming that James was going to ask to see the book he was currently reading. 

"Not that. Just- do you know who your soulmate is?" 

Surprised, Sirius glanced up at him. "Why are you asking?" 

"Do you know?" 

"What does it matter?" 

"Why are you being so weirdly closed off about it?" 

"I'm not being weirdly closed off; I'm being normal closed off, and it's because I don't think you'll like the answer you get." 

"So you do know who your soulmate is," James said. There was no other reason why Sirius couldn't tell him. 'No' was an easy answer. Lots of people didn't have enough details to figure out who their soulmate was-- and even if they did have plenty of details, there was nothing they could do if they hadn't met them. 

Sirius scowled at him. 

"Who is it?" 

"Are we really doing this?" Sirius asked. "Right here in the library? You've never asked about it before but you're going to try and squeeze if out of me while we're in public?" 

"The library doesn't count as public; there's no one else in sight." 

"Maybe it's not public, but it's definitely not private. Do we really want to have this blow up right here? It'll be fun-- everyone can hear it and call it a domestic." 

"We're not going to have a domestic," James said, rolling his eyes. "Just tell me who your soulmate is." 

"Why the hell would I do that?" 

James glared at him. "Because I won't shut it and let you finish your essay otherwise." 

"You won't let me finish it if I do tell you." 

"I will." 

"Liar," Sirius said. "You always think you'll be calm, but you never sodding are." 

"When have I ever tried to claim that I'll be calm and not followed through?" 

"Normally, you're calm because you don't give a shite. You'll care about this, which means you won't be calm about it." 

"You're overthinking this," James said. "Unless your soulmate is buggering Snape or- it's not Snape is it?" 

"Ew, no." 

James relaxed again. "Then we're fine." 

"Why do you even care? You haven't cared in the past six years." 

"Not bothering you about it isn't the same as not caring." 

"So why do you care?" 

James didn't feel like admitting to something so revealing, especially when Sirius had already admitted that he knew who his soulmate was, so he shrugged. 

"A shrug isn't gonna cut it, Prongs." 

He hesitated. "How about this: I'll tell you why I want to know after you tell me who it is." 

Sirius didn't accept right away, which was enough to make him nervous. Then he sighed. "Fine, but you don't get to freak out. We're not going to be able to finish this essay on time if you freak out." 

"We've worked under tighter time constraints." 

Sirius stared at him flatly. 

"Fine, fine, I promise. No freaking out." If Sirius's soulmate was James, then he could just be happy-- no freaking out required. If it wasn't James, then he'd be too sad to move. He was going to sit here and mope until curfew, if that was the case. "So?" he prodded, raising an eyebrow expectantly. 

"You shouldn't do that; it makes you look like your glasses are about to fall off." 

With a huff, James let his face return to normal. "You're stalling." 

"It's you." 

"No, it's not. Do I look like I'm the one stalling?" 

Sirius threw a quill at him. "You're my soulmate, you absolute arse." 

"Oh." James blinked, then threw the quill back at him. "You could've told me that the first time I asked, tosser." Shaking his head at Sirius's particular brand of ridiculous, he turned back to his essay. 

"That's it?" Sirius asked, so incredulous that James looked up at him again. 

"Erm. Yes? I mean, obviously there's stuff I want to talk about, but I promised I'd let you finish your essay if you told me." 

"Actually, I think what you promised was that you wouldn't freak out." 

"I can do both." 

Sirius stared at him for a long moment. "Did you already know that I was your soulmate?" 

"I had my suspicions." 

"How the hell did you only have suspicions? I knew it was you after we were dormmates for a week." 

"Okay," James said, pointing a finger at him, "you don't get to judge me. I was only ever dreaming about food! You're so buggering weird; couldn't you have just picked two foods you liked and stuck with that? I dream about red curry, and then the next day, you refuse to eat it. Talk about mixed signals. I've been guessing at your favourite foods for sodding years." 

"It's not my fault that sometimes I'm in the mood for something that stinks," Sirius muttered petulantly. 

"So you're in the mood to eat it, but you refuse to because it smells bad?" James asked. He wasn't judging, but he couldn't really relate. He had a couple foods that he didn't like, but everything else was fair game. Comparatively, Sirius was the most picky eater in the world. Not that James really cared, except for the soulmate thing. "And you couldn't have explained that to me earlier?" 

"I didn't realise your sanity was on the line," Sirius said dryly, but his expression was still that touch of vulnerable that he only got around James. 

"My sanity is always on the line when you don't tell me things," James said, flashing him a grin that helped soothe Sirius's nerves. "Look, it won't take us that long to finish this, so let's get it done with and..." 

"And?" Sirius asked, quirking a smile at him. 

"Well," James said, trying to push down the warmth bubbling in him-- if he let it do its own thing, he'd never be able to focus on finishing this essay. "We can figure that out later." 

The fond look on Sirius's face made it clear that he knew exactly what 'figure that out later' would end up meaning for them. They'd snog for a while, fall asleep, then wake up, snog some more, and then talk about it. That talk would probably go along the lines of 'soulmates? cool', but at least they would've done it. "Alright," Sirius said. He picked his quill back up and looked at the book he'd been reading before James interrupted him. 

It would almost be like nothing had changed, except Sirius now had a faint smile on his face, and James couldn't ignore the happy butterflies in his chest if he tried. Without looking up, Sirius nudged his leg with one of his own feet. James glanced at him, and Sirius's smile widened, eyes still stuck to the page. James chuckled and turned his attention back to the essay, but he kept his leg where it was, pressed up against Sirius's. 

[cuddlecave]

is xiphoid

first: you *are* good

next: alright thingrey au

how bout an alternate 'the team finds out the shapeshifter is still alive, whoops!' but in an utterly disastrous way

it's been a while since antarctica! a long while, and gord and benr *meant* to tell the team about them ages ago, when benr became human shaped again, but there just never seemed to be a good time? and really, whats one more day, week, month...

anyway the team is utterly oblivious of benr, but being aware of gord, means that's they've noticed he's not been spending as much time with them! been spending, like, a lot of time at home, actually--or away from town. sometimes even avoiding them! they're worried, bc really, this is not the way to deal with trauma, gord! you don't pull away from your friends, you get help! just bc you can't see a therapist doesn't mean you shouldn't try to process it!

anyway, gords generally cagey about where he is, but on a rare team night where he had come to hang over...they very much on purpose get him drunk. now, drunk gord is still pretty fucking cagey (he loves his boyf and would never endanger him if possible), which is a shame, but tom is able to ask a question casually enough that gord doesn't think about it...and ends up telling them he goes out to the [insert desert area here] sometimes. when pressed on why he goes, he seems to realize he made a mistake, and bolts, cutting the night short.

now, credit to gord, him and benr don't go back to that particular desert area after that. but the team are damn smart, and figure that just bc he's not at that area anymore, doesn't mean he's not in *any* desert area anymore.

takes some trial and error--figuring out when gord seems to be out (he never answers his phone when he's out, his car is not at home), and then checking a desert area (didn't get anything but desert the first few times). but eventually...they find his car.

things paint...a worrying picture. there's camping/chilling gear in the car (chairs and a shitty tent, left from when gord tried camping several years ago and never bothered to remove from his car) but they're not set up and gords not there? the doors arent locked and the keys are in ignition? (gord doesn't want to drop his keys running from benr, he did that once and it sucked. also why he doesn't bring his phone! but he's out like 55 miles from the nearest town, who's gonna steal his car?) there's torn up foliage around, as if something big came through (benr may give gord a head start, but he still likes to be big enough to a) chase well, and b) nom gord after), and most worryingly--a set of human footprints in the sand, clearly running based on stride. and some strange larger footprint *next to them*.

their friend was ambushed by something big, and is going to get got. (this is not entirely untrue. not ambushed, but definitely going to get got, lol.) they set off quickly following the footprints.

meanwhile-gord and benr are having a *great* time! the exercise feels nice for both of them, it's a cloudy day so it's shady, they're gonna order pizza and play playstation after this--its gonna be a wonderful day. it already is!

gord, at this point, is beginning to tire out. benr is getting closer. he pushes himself a bit farther, to stretch out the chase just a touch longer, and makes a sharp turn around a rock formation, causing benr to briefly crash into it, giving him a few more steps. but he's tired, and well, benr has better stamina--and agility. benr bounds over the rock formation and uses it's height to gain just a bit of an extra boost, and tackle-hugs gord. they nearly crash into some sharp shrubs, but they're fine.

gord turns and looks up at benr and grins, and benr leans down to him, and gives him a long kiss. gord hums in contentment and relaxes. he's gonna get to doze, now, before driving. naptime, hell yeah.

benr picks him up to swallow him and he just remains basically limp, exhausted, letting benr manhandle him, gently maneuvering him into his jaws. he's swallowed with little fanfare, and happily settles in his tum, almost immediately starting to doze as benr starts to walk.

then he hears screaming, and benr sharply moves, and suddenly he's wide awake.

-

the team follow the tracks. it's a long walk, even moving at speed--gord must have really been booking it, which means hopefully he's still safe, got away some how. surely nothing would chase him for too long, when he was outrunning it this well. the trail goes on and on and on--its looking less like this thing gave up. and gords footsteps are shorter, he's not managing a hard run anymore. they're coming up on a rock formation--its still several hundred feet away. close enough to see a figure that can only be gord run from behind it, but far, far to far away to do anything about what happens next.

they see him turn sharply, and something big hits the rocks, clearly taken off guard. he makes it a few steps. and the team look on in absolute horror as what can only be the shapeshifter jumps off the top of the rocks, and tackles gord to the ground. they're partially obscured by the desert plants, but it's enough to see, even at this distance, the rippling body parts of the creature, pinning gord down.

the thing leans its head down toward gord, and they can't see what's happening with the plants and distance. and then.

it picks a completely unmoving gord up, and swallows him whole.

oh, god. it snapped his neck. it ate him. it's going to try to finish what it started in antarctica oh fuck does anyone have a flamethrower?!

a seeing it stand and start to leisurely walk in the direction they came from, they're finally broken from they're spell of silence and horror. somebody starts screaming angrily, and bubby has a lighter and big spray, making a makeshift flamethrower--and they run towards it in vengeance.

it notices them and sharply turns, booking it in the opposite direction.

(1/?)

continued under the read more!

(cont) oh fuck, thinks benr. this is not good. Not Good at all. gord frantically asks what's going on?! and goes cold when benr says 'ur friends saw us. and buby has fire.' the good thing is, benr is bigger and faster than humans. the bad thing is that he's been running all morning and now has over 200 pounds of boyf swaying in him, even if he's holding gord as tight as possible so he's not getting thrown everywhere. he's not gonna last long, and there's nowhere to hide. gord is furiously thinking. but he's also exhausted, and panicking. the thoughts in his brain are sticky like drying glue when he tries do something with them, and he can feel benr slowing. it's not by much, but his alien bf getting hurt *at all* is unacceptable, so. he decides to stop thinking and start doing. he tells benr to 'stop and let me out! as fast as you can!' and benr skids to a stop and turns half facing the approaching team, and splits his abdomen open and gord comes tumbling out into the light, getting immediately covered in dust and mud sticking to the saliva covering him. it's kinda gross, but at the moment it's not even registering, bc in those moments buby has nearly caught up. gord stands, pushes benr behind him, who let's himself be pushed purely out of surprise, and holds his hands out. 'its me! I'm fine it's ok it's me, please I can explain, just turn off the fire! it's ok!' but the thing is, as far as they're concerned...'you fucking imposter we saw gord die! get a better lie!' and buby is still running full tilt at them. gord has enough time to think, *aw fuck, this is gonna hurt*, before buby lights his makeshift flamethrower and gord is suddenly extremely hot, in pain, and knocked on his back. he can see the sky for a quick moment, before what can only be benr is standing over him, protecting him from further fire. a few limbs quickly use the dirt to put out the couple embers on his shirt (well, what's left of his shirt...) buby jerks back at the large being leaping in his direction, but it stops as it stands over the gord-imposter. which... is not moving. or writhing like the shapeshifter, or trying to split off from the damaged part. it's just...lying there. shallowly breathing as if in shock. buby gets a bit of a sinking feeling. - I got tired after writing this but basically benr tries to angle around enough to protect gord and also use teal green on him from another mouth. the team quickly figure out something is fucky, and that gord...might not be a Thing?? gord is in zero shape to have a real conversation--burns are serious business, and he basically passes out during teal-green. so why was the creature... protecting gord?? especially if it ate him?!?! there's an uneasy (extremely uneasy) truce, and benr carries gord back to the car, flamethrower pointed at them the whole way. they leave gords car and take them both back to toms place, in the car they drove in. it is supremely awkward. especially when gord wakes up for half a minute, kisses benr, and passes out again. not sure how it would go from there,, .... didn't mean to accidentally write a minific but here we are!! I really like the 'extreme misunderstanding vore' trope, lol.

ohhhh man this is like an angsty version of a regular not-a-game au idea i've thought up before o: thinking about what would happen next... the whole car ride home, benb was hitting gord with more healing (tho he gave the guys ample warning first about what he was doing so they wouldn't think he was attacking or something), and thanks to that, gord's burns are healed up to the point where he doesn't need hospitalization, just some burn cream and good rest to finish it off. (and a hair cut. benb is very sad that he couldn't repair gord's burned hair and beard. when gord's awake again he's just "Dude it'll grow back, don't worry." "i knooowwww but it still sucks. your hair was SO pretty. and you look like a sixteen-year-old without facial hair. kinda weird. babyfaceman." "WOW shut up."). when gord's awake and aware enough again, they all have a sit down and get an explanation from him and benb. benb goes on to basically give a summary of his whole backstory; explain what exactly he his and how he got to earth, and what he was trying to do both at the b'mesa base and that first norwegian base he first thawed out in. when he gets to the part about why he never wanted to hurt the sciteam, that does a pretty good job of warming them up to him. "the thing about that frzn guy is he was a total asshole. HUGE douche canoe. and i was like 'maaaan i don't wanna be this guy, he suuuuucks', but then i noticed that he'd hardly ever interacted with anybody else there. new guy on the base. nobody knew him, or knew what he was like. so i figured i could get away with acting like myself instead of him, and nobody would notice. i've never been able to just be me around other people, only when alone. i didn't really... know how it was gonna turn out. but you guys ended up liking me! you invited me to come hang out on breaks, and play video games, and watch movies, and talk about soda and photography and it was fun and nice and good! you were nice to my dog body, too. giving me a name and everything... you're all great cools. i got attached to you guys. like, super attached. didn't wanna hurt you, ever. 's the reason i never touched the sled dogs, too- i knew tommy would be sad if something happened to the dogs, and i didn't wanna make him sad." (bubs probably acts like he's not touched by that, but he is :B and also, like i've said in a post on my main, bubs feels some sympathy towards benb after hearing about his origins as an unethical science experiment. bubs wasn't grown in a lab in this au, but he was still subjected to some painful "knowledge tubes" experiments due to his contract with b'mesa. so he still knows that feel, bro. unwilling lab rat solidarity.) benb apologizes for everything in antarctica, and bubs apologizes for torching gord, but then the team asks what the fuck? happened in the desert?? and gord explains the "one-sided tag" game they do to help benb burn up energy, and that benb was just carrying gord to let him rest from the run on the way back to the car. ("Carrying you in his stomach, though?" "nah i don't put him where food goes. it's the uhhhh *lip smack* nap organ. custom made for sleeping in. bedry time.") (they also at one point explain "also we're dating" to which gord gets accused of being a monsterfucker ha ha. and then benb's like "ew no i'm ace" and harold goes on about how beautiful interracial young love is.)

[im-not-looking-for-forgiveness]

Anything with John or Tommy. Filth is good. Fluff is too!

Safety - John Shelby x Reader

Possible TW: assault, violence, graphic depictions

A/N: Okay so I just realized I haven't written a single goddamn John Shelby request on this wHOLE BLOG????? I know there's a need for smut out there, but I'm allowed to go fluffy for this one and I think my first one of our sweet John has to be just that!

Taglist: @sweetiekokkiri @haphazardhufflepuff @tarafaithe @mrsstevenbuchananstark @imagine-richards @hxnky-cat

*****

"Hey."

You rolled your eyes at your drink before looking up. At least it wouldn't hit on you.

"I'm not interested."

"All I said was hey. Give me a chance!" the man, sloshing his booze all over the counter, sat down hard on the stool beside you.

"I'm not interested." you repeated, starting a dangerous game by then looking away from him.

You were a woman alone at the bar and had been turning down men for a while now as you just tried to forget your past. You didn't think it was some extraordinary beauty you had, but rather it was that the men of Birmingham had become more brazen with their lack of control.

"You like to play hard to get, huh? I bet those other guys didn't see that in you, did they? Come on, a woman only sits at a bar alone when she wants a man to bring her home." he continued as if you'd said nothing, and moved into your personal space.

His hand went to your knee, and you immediately had to restrain the urge to vomit. Of the men who'd come on to you tonight, he was the first one to touch you that inappropriately. You shoved his hand away, and then wiped yours on your skirt. Anger began to boil in your chest.

"I said no. If you touch me again, you'll regret it." you snapped, hand subconsciously sliding to your gin glass.

"You like it." he slurred, grinning. The man grabbed the back of your head as if to force you to kiss him.

You immediately slammed the glass into his head before his mouth could get anywhere near yours, spraying glass everywhere and cutting your hand. Body racing with adrenaline and fear, you jumped off the stool and ran for the doors.

"Fuck!" you got out, pushing open the gilded door of The Garrison and going out into the cool night. The crisp air did nothing to ease your panic or the pain in your palm.

"Hey!" the creep yelled furiously behind you. Blood was running down his cheek, which gave you a small kick of satisfaction.

"Leave me alone!" you yelled back, placing all your bets on a group of well dressed men standing around a Bentley. Last time you ran from a man like him, you had never stopped running.

"You just came outta the Garrison?" the tallest of the three asked. He ran the back of his hand over his mouth and mustache and then cracked his knuckles.

"Here we go." the one with his hat pulled low muttered.

Recognition blossomed in your head. These were the infamous Shelby brothers. What were their names again?

"Yes. He tried to kiss me so I broke a glass over his head." you got out, breathless. You shook your hand as if it would help ease the pain. It just splattered more blood onto the gravel.

"You're gonna let her come with me if you know what's good for you." the asshole from the bar growled, pulling out a knife as he finally got near.

"Arthur." the man still leaning against the car warned as the taller brother inched forward.

"She's my date. We just had a disagreement is all. She's coming with me." the man continued, lunging forward and grabbing you by the arm. You yelped in pain as his fingers pressed hard enough to bruise.

Before anyone else could move, he held the blade to your neck. He ordered, "Stay back. I don't want trouble with you lot."

"You're talking to the Peaky fuckin' Blinders." the third man finally spoke up. He took the toothpick from the corner of his mouth and flicked it away. In the next moment, he pulled a gun and cocked it.

"You can't shoot me fast enough to save her." the man sneered, shifting so his body was behind yours and out of the line of fire. You pulled futilely at his arm to try and keep the knife away.

Anger resurfacing at the sheer audacity this man had, you realized that only you could get yourself out of this. The Blinders had been a good gamble, your only gamble, but now it wasn't going to pay off. You didn't want to run any more. At least, not from him.

With one hand, you shoved his arm as hard as you could. With the other, you reached behind you and mashed your fingers against the cuts you'd made on his face.

He started screaming. The gun went off. You were falling.

"No." you rasped out, curling up as soon as you hit the gravel. You pressed a hand to your side and it came away sticky with blood.

The loud thudding you thought was in your head was in fact Arthur and the third brother kicking the shit out of your attacker. You were vaguely aware that the quiet one was at your side.

"I'll bring her to the hospital. Deal with him." the man ordered, gently pulling you up.

You pleaded, "No! No hospital. Please! He'll find me."

"Alright. John, give me a hand. We're bringing her inside." he corrected.

The one called John immediately broke away and scooped you into his arms. You whimpered into his shoulder, "You shot me."

He snorted, but said nothing as he carried you right back inside the Garrison. You groaned as every step pulled on your wound. Your fingers clutched hard at his previously pristine suit jacket. Knowing your luck, you'd probably have to pay him for it if you survived this night.

Suddenly, you found yourself lying flat on a table in some back room. What the hell? Did you black out?

"Hey! Stay awake, alright? What's your name?" the brother whose name you didn't know was trying to hold your attention. His hat had come off at some point and you were struck by how blue his eyes were.

"Y/N." you said, realizing he was expecting you to answer.

"Alright, Y/N, you're going to talk to John while I sew you shut. How does that sound?" he told you, switching places with his brother.

You nodded as he went to get thread and a needle, "Okay."

"Hello, lovely. I'm John." the man said, giving you a small smile. You weren't sure if it was the pain driving you crazy, but he seemed to be the most beautiful man you'd ever seen. Maybe you'd already died?

"You shot me." you got out again, figuring you couldn't be dead if you were in this much pain.

He smirked as he propped you up slightly, "Come on, I'm a better shot than that. The fucker just stuck you on the way down. Don't worry, it's not that deep. And he missed anything important."

"Except for me." you grumbled, trembling as John put a bottle to your lips and had you drink. He laughed as you coughed on whatever booze was in the bottle, and laid you back down.

"This is going to hurt. Unfortunately we don't have any morphine, so try not to pass out." the unnamed brother spoke up, taking the alcohol from John.

John pressed a roll of cloth between your teeth, "Bite down on this. Focus on me, sweetheart. It'll only take a minute but it'll hurt like hell. Tommy is good at this sort of thing, so don't you worry."

At least he was honest. As soon as the alcohol touched the wound, a scream erupted from your throat. You bit down as hard as you could on the cloth as tears sprung to your eyes.

"Hey, look at me. When this is all over, I'll buy you a proper drink alright? No one like that will ever come near you again if you're seen with me. Okay? Does that sound nice?" John spoke gently, taking your good hand in his.

You nodded tearfully as Tommy tediously stitched you up. You latched onto what he said about no man coming near you like that again. That was all you ever wanted.

Sooner than you hoped, Tommy was done. Your side still burned, but it seemed to be leveling out. Maybe you'd make it after all.

"When you can get up, drinks are on the house. I'm sorry you had this experience in our pub." Tommy said, cleaning up the supplies he'd used.

"Thanks. I owe you a debt, now." you told him sincerely, knowing he didn't have to do this. He could have taken you to a hospital anyway, despite your wishes.

He nodded, then left the room.

"Why didn't you want to go to the hospital?" John asked curiously, shedding his jacket. He grabbed fresh gauze and then gestured for your hand.

Something told you to trust him. It was probably delirium, but you wanted to think it was fate. You chose not to run for the first time, and that had to mean something.

You let him take your hand in his, "The first boyfriend I ever had became my stalker. He wouldn't leave me alone even after I dumped his ass, so I've been on the run since. Moved from my whole life in America just to be rid of him. I know he probably didn't think to look for me outside the country, but I can't risk it."

John just listened intently as he wrapped your hand, and you watched his jaw clench in anger. Some distant part of your mind wanted to trace his jaw with your fingers.

"I meant what I said."

"About what?"

"You stick with me, and you'll be safe from men like them. I know what it's like to never relax." he admitted, finishing with your hand. He didn't let go.

For once, you weren't afraid of the unknown. For once, you felt a spark of hope. A man was offering you solace instead of fear. You asked, "You do?"

"Yeah. Us Shelbys are always at war with someone." he said, smirking.

You gently put your fingers through his as you thought of the reputation the Peaky Blinders had, "Sounds dangerous."

"Absolutely."

"How would I know you could keep me safe?" you wondered. Maybe to fend off a predator, you had to be a bigger one. A stronger one, with a pack.

"Because we're the Peaky Blinders. No one messes with us unless we give 'em permission." he told you, his chin tilting up with pride.

"I like the sound of that." you told him, a weak smile coming onto your face for the first time in years.

"Good. Now, get some rest. We'll tell Tommy tomorrow that you're staying. We could always use some help in the office, anyway. Can't say no to that." he said, placing his jacket over you for some warmth.

"Will you stay?" you wondered, trying not to sound as desperate as you felt.

He pulled up a chair, "Yeah. Yeah, I will. Johnny's got you."

You finally drifted off to sleep. And despite having been stabbed, you slept better than you had in years.