#I have a longer version in my WIPs but it gets more dramatic and angsty and this version is just more lighthearted so I’m posting it anyway

[angelumcaedis]

durge/astarion drabble: so, that exboyfriend.

(She/her drow dark urge, named Dahmira. Mild fantasies of violence. Past Durgetash. Mostly cuddling.)

“I didn’t like how he looked at me. Through me. Like he knew me, intimately.”

“Like an old lover?”

She gripped the pillow to her chest harder, dusky purple cheeks taking a deeper hue.

Astarion grinned teasingly at her. “It was hard not to notice, darling. He wasn’t exactly hiding it.”

“I don’t… know him. Not as who I am now,” she started. “But there’s a sense of recognition, almost…” she trailed off, cheeks flushing even more.

Gods, she was adorable when she was flustered, Astarion thought to himself.

“Almost what, darling?” He spoke softly, as though to a frightened animal, even as he leaned in closer, narrowing the gap between them. His grin widened just enough for his fangs to be on display. Dahmira instinctively leaned back, gaze still downcast and distant.

Voice low, almost a whisper, she replied. “Like my body knows him. Remembers him.”

Astarion took her face gently in his hand, thumb caressing her cheek. She met his gaze with wide eyes, breath caught in her throat.

“Would you like me to help you forget?”

“I… erm…” If possible, Dahmira was flushing even more purple than before.

“Seems I won’t have to try too hard if you’ve already forgotten the basics of speech.”

Astarion aptly dodged what was to be a face full of pillow as Dahmira swung at him. “You are an absolute menace, you know that, right?”

The vampire giggled, grabbing the pillow and yanking hard, pulling the unsuspecting drow on top of him as he sat back onto his veritable nest of cushions.

“Darling, I am nothing if not genuine in this offer,” he settled his hands on her hips as she came to rest in his lap. “Believe me when I say I would thoroughly enjoy making you forget every syllable of the so-called archduke’s name.”

The drow curled her hands around his wrists, hesitating. They still hadn’t crossed - well, re-crossed - certain boundaries since their commitment to trying ‘something real’. She searched his face, nose scrunched as she tried to read his expression.

Astarion gave her hips a reassuring squeeze. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was offering was something he was ready for, but he didn’t like seeing her so rattled. He wanted to reassure her that he didn’t judge her for what she did before they met. Gods, when he thought about it, if she hadn’t been that evil bastard, he would still be under Cazador’s thumb.

“We don’t have to do anything. I’m happy just to be here with you,” she said.

That something in Astarion’s chest warmed. She was always so concerned about him.

“I know. But,” he said, dropping the flirty demeanor for a deeper tone, “I didn’t appreciate how he looked at you either, darling,” he growled. “That privilege is mine alone.”

“Astarion…” Dahmira sighed, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “If I don’t kill you first, you might just be the death of me.”

“Only little deaths, we hope.”

“Astarion.”

“You are far too fun to tease, darling.”

The drow sighed in exasperation at her beloved. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Astarion purred as he slid his hands up from her hips to her waist, rucking up her shirt on his way. His hands were cool against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

Her hands caught his, moving them back to settle at her hips. “I… I don’t know… not right now,” she said. “Could you maybe just… just hold me.”

If his heart had been beating, it might have skipped. “My sweet, there is nothing I would like more.”

Astarion held her tight as she drifted off into her usual fitful trance. As his own mind wandered, he imagined how it might feel to peel Enver Gortash’s smirk right off his face.

The thought warmed him to his cold, undead core.

#astarion/the dark urge #drabble #I have a longer version in my WIPs but it gets more dramatic and angsty and this version is just more lighthearted so I’m posting it anyway #astarion #the dark urge #ficlets #baldur’s gate 3 fanfiction #also this is. not beta’d and barely edited so. y’know.

[liquorisce]

Hey I just found out about your fics! I love it. Are you still going to write some EM fics? You're awesome!

Anon thank you so much for reading my beloved eremika stories! i am so glad that you enjoyed them. there are so many versions of eremika that take up space in my head - childhood em, high school em, eren-is-a-screwup-modern-au, vamp-au em, gosh i can go on forever. 

tbh i really really do want to still write em. especially now with snk getting more and more exciting with every chapter the EM feels are STRONG. but basically i fell prey to some writer anxiety and some “my fics are so shitty compared to other awesome authors” bs and i kinda stopped for a bit. 

but 2020 has been good to me and i am back. and because i am so grateful for your readership and support (and all the others who have been so lovely about my work), i wanted to share this recent excerpt from my wips folder. i have no idea if its just trash, but is completely self-indulgent, dramatic and angsty, and features eremika +arumika so my fav kind. here you go ~

rating: m

parings: eremika / arumika [shingeki no kyojin]

words: 1070 ish

"You never told me," he says, his voice faint from the corner of the room, where he leans against the wall, his golden hair bathed in the pale moonlight. 

"Armin," Eren exclaims, startled, "I didn't see you there." He's just out of the shower, hot beads of water growing cold on his skin as he sees the strangest expression on his best friend's face, blank and somewhat stony, something he has never seen before. 

"Anyway," he teases lightly, "what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Mikasa right now?" 

"I don't know." Armin has never sounded this far away and it scares him. He shouldn't be here, standing so eerily in the corner like a ghost, with that haunted look in his eyes... on his wedding night.

"Why didn't you tell me Eren?"  

A cold dread sweeps through him. Had Mikasa told him after all? Had she decided the extent of their debauchery was too dirty a secret to keep from her husband?

It’s the darker voice in his mind that wonders, had she told him how many times he had taken her that night and how much she had loved it, how many times she had screamed his name?

His cheeks burn at the memory, a scarlet visual that he cannot bring himself to regret, for he does not regret anything more than the fact that he could not make her his, that this illicit liaison of theirs was one that would never happen again, that her touch, warm and passionate that it was, was something he would never have the pleasure of experiencing ever again. 

Even now when Armin stands in front of him asking him questions that he probably shouldn't, and there is guilt, true and justified on his features, guilt that he deserves to feel, the smallest fraction of his heart throbs with remorseless sorrow because the woman he loves would never be his. 

Because that one day, and night, those precious hours Eren had spent with her in his arms were as good as an illusion. She had made her choice, and it wasn't him. 

But he feigns ignorance anyway. "What are you talking about? Are you okay?”

“Me? Today I married the girl I’ve loved my entire life,” the sarcasm dripped right through, “… I’m great!”

He can’t stop the bitterness that creeps into his voice. “I thought everything went really well today, didn’t it? Everyone was gushing about what a perfect wedding it was… what a perfect bride.”

“She really is, isn’t she?” Armin’s voice is cold, his ice-blue gaze unflinching. "I’m sure you thought so. As for the wedding… it’s not exactly perfect when the best man spends the entire evening staring at the bride." Armin's laugh is harsh, forced, seeking humor where there is none. 

"It's not normal when the man who's giving her away holds onto her so tight, like he never wants to let go." 

"I'm not stupid, Eren," his voice cracks a little, hysterical with the weight of truth that he has seen on his wedding day. 

"You've never been stupid Armin," Eren says quietly, the oppressive feeling of guilt now unlocked from its cage consuming him entirely. 

He looks at his best friend, still fresh in his wedding suit, neat bow and everything, hair swept back, shoulders broad and tall. he sees the despair etched on every single one of Armin's honest, beautiful features, tearing at him from within. 

He’d just said his vows to the girl he always dreamed of marrying, and never ever had Eren seen anyone more miserable. 

So he does his best to crack up a smile. "It's not that big of a deal, you know," he says lightly, "besides, we would have been terrible together. Too much fighting." He crinkles his nose in mock disgust. 

Armin doesn't look convinced, he looks the same, desperate, guilty, like he's the one who's done something wrong, and it kills Eren.

It slays him. Because never, not for one second has he been even one tenth of the friend that Armin deserves. Especially not yesterday, when his hands had been so greedy to cover every inch of Armin’s now-wife roaming, kneading their way to her pleasure.

"If she had known, maybe..." 

Maybe she would have changed her mind, is what he wants to say but the thought chokes in his throat. But Eren knows what he's thinking and he's quick to reassure him. "She wouldn't have chosen this life if she didn't love you." 

But It isn't love for me when she looks at you the that way, the same way you look at her, like everyone else is just background noise, he thinks, but he doesn't say it because he knows the truth in those words, and fears it will only amplify when spoken out loud.

There is no more of this that Eren can bear, this self-righteous guilt and sadness and despair flowing out of Armin. He's tried to be happy for him, and her, because this will keep them inside the walls, or at the very least within the realms of society as they knew it… a life far safer than the journey he would set forth upon. 

It killed him when he had to see Armin kiss her, hesitant, soft, the lightest smile playing out at his lips and answering breath from hers, but he forced himself to watch. 

He had forced the spears further into himself untill he had thought he would be sick, sick with hatred and jealousy and all things impure. 

But he had watched faithfully and tried to work up a smile because this was the happiness of his two most precious people and he would protect it. 

And now Armin stood in front of him, miserable, as if he were ruined, as if the one person he had desired above everything was taken away from him. 

It was something that Eren could not bear any longer. He would tell Armin all of this, if he had thought it would bring him peace but it wouldn't, it would just shatter their relationship and everything it meant to him. 

So he turns away, signalling an end to this conversation. 

"Go to your wife," and the bitterness is loud, screaming in Eren's words, splintering harshly. "She's probably waiting for you." 

#eremika #arumika #shingeki no kyojin #eren jaeger #mikasa ackermin #armin arlert #liquorisce fanfiction

[sodalitefully]

1-30 hehehe

Anon you’re a ballsy motherfucker and I love you.  BUT you didn’t choose a fic for 24-28, or a word for 29!

What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for? Uh, probably Danny Phantom when I was like twelve 😂

Do you participate in any writing events or challenges throughout the year? If so, what do you like about them? Nope bc this is a small fandom and we don’t do many of those.

Do you write fics from start or finish, or jump around? I usually start at the start and then when I get stuck I’ll just skip that part, keep going, and come back to it later.  If I have an idea and I’m afraid I’ll forget it, I might also skip ahead and write it.

Do you outline before you start writing? If so, how far do you stray from that outline? I love outlining more that actually writing lmao, the longer the fic the more I outline.  I usually stick to it pretty closely, which isn’t aways good for my writing...

What is the perfect environment for you to write in? Quiet and private.  Other than that I haven’t figured out the tricks to getting myself to focus :(

If you’re really concentrating, how many words can you write in a day? Occasionally when I’m really inspired I’ll write like 1000, but more often I just write a paragraph or two.

Which part of writing do you struggle with most? Too many ideas, too little actual writing capacity.  It’s hard to focus on finishing fics bc I get too distracted by my other ideas, and I rarely write sequels bc there’s so much I haven’t gotten to share yet.

Do you listen to music while you write? If so, share a song that’s been inspiring you lately. Nope, can’t write with music, I get too distracted.  

Do you prefer to write AUs, canon divergence, or canon-compliant fic? AUs!!!

Do you enjoy writing dialogue, exposition, or plot the most? Probably dialogue? Exposition is great bc I get to explain the AU, but It’s not good for the flow of the fic.  Dialogue can be really satisfying to write when you get in a groove with it.

If you could only write angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your life, which would it be? Fluff!

Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to? Oh god so many.  I have notes on tons of tropes I’d like to write... I’d like to do a college AU (and I meant to do it while I was actually in college but oops).  I posted a soulmate AU once but I’d like to do another.  Oh and I have lots of ideas for crossover AUs and I’m still deciding how to handle those.

Is there a trope you wouldn’t write if it was the last trope on earth? Honestly probably not.  I’m not huge on character death, genderbends, or reader inserts, for example, but I have ideas for fics involving all of those. 

If you were stuck on a desert island with only two characters, which would you pick? No one from gnr that’s for sure, that’d be a disaster.  How about... Percy Jackson and idk Wonder Woman?

A Hollywood producer tells you that they want to film just one of your fics. Which fic would you want it to be? Hmm out of the fics that I’ve posted... maybe Sumthin’ for Nuthin’ actually? I abandoned that poor fic but I still really like the plot.  And there’s plenty of longer, more plot-heavy fics I have outlined that would be cool to see as films.  In general I often imagine concepts visually instead of with words.

What is your most underrated fic? Saving Grace didn’t get a lot of notes and I get why – it’s kinda niche and there’s no actual romance.  But I think it’s well-written and I’m proud of it.

What fic are you most proud of? Maybe the whole cat!slash universe?  I don’t think it’s my best writing per se, but I’m still really attached to the concept and it was a pleasant surprise that other people seemed to like it too.

What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene. I’ve always been partial to the paragraph in Sweetness that ends with “Their coffee has long gone cold (and so has Duff’s spine - snakes give him the heebie-jeebies), but Slash’s enthusiasm is sweeter than the Duff’s half-eaten bowl of melted ice cream, and Duff is eating it up with a spoon.”  Just... the coffee is cold and so is Duff’s spine, Slash is sweet and so is the ice cream, and using “eating it up with a spoon” idiomatically while it’s also thematically relevant to a sentence about dessert... I really like to layer meaning when I can.

Who is the easiest/hardest character for you to write about? Why? Slash tends to be the center in most of my writing, but actually I think it’s easier to write from Duff’s pov.  Maybe bc when I’m writing sluff I can just channel my crush on Slash through Duff lmao.  Interesting tho bc when it comes to the real people, I find Slash much more relatable than Duff or the others.

What’s your favorite minor character you’ve written? Hah maybe Slash in the funeral home AU, it’s a duzzy ficlet so he’s just a side character but I got a kick out of writing his and Steven’s background antics.

What is the one fic that got away? Well, I really wish I’d finished Sumthin’ for Nuthin’ before I kinda lost interest in Motley Crue, that fic was gonna get more dramatic from there.  Would it be worth it to just post the outline?  Plus there’s a few potential longfic ideas that I’ve put a lot of love into, but I doubt they’ll ever be posted or completed considering the way I can’t seem to focus on one idea long enough to write more than a one-shot :( But hey I guess you never know.

Have you cried while writing a fic? Nope.  I do have some angsty ideas though, hopefully they’ll surface someday.

If you had to remix one of your own fics, which would it be and how would you remix it? Someday I’d like to rewrite the cat!Slash fic from the beginning, make it a real multichap or at least a proper series of vignettes.  Id also be interesting in a darker version of that AU, since there’s definitely potential for that in the concept.  But I’m pretty attached to the fluffy little universe I made, so I’d probably prefer to explore those darker themes in a different (but maybe similar) universe – I have a few ideas.

How did you come up with title for [x fic]? Most of my fics have self-explanatory titles or none at all, the only one I have much to say about is Saving Grace.  Duff needed a miracle to get out of his situation, Slash was his saving grace.  But also, Grace is the name of Duff’s oldest daughter, and Duff’s motive in the story is trying to “save” her.  Despite the double meaning in the title, I avoided referring to the child by name or as Duff’s “daughter”/explaining how they ended up together.  I wanted to maintain some of the mystery of the apocalyptic genre: characters with mysterious origins, found families, aliases, etc.  That’s definitely one of the ways that Mad Max and DOOM influenced this fic.  (Oh, also Serpentine is a dick joke via a wttj reference: “My serpentine.”  That’s it tho, the rest are pretty straightforward.)

Which idea came to you first in [x fic]? Feel free to send a fic for any/all of the next few questions! Generally speaking, my ideas are character driven, I want to portray a character or relationship a certain way and I build a world that allows me to do that.

Which part of [x fic] was the hardest to write?  Always the end.

If you were ever to do a sequel to [x fic], what do you think might happen in it? Whichever fic you have in mind, there’s a very high chance I have ideas.

In [x fic], what is a happy, post-fic headcanon you have about [pairing]? Same as above!

Send me a word. If it’s in your WIPs, include the sentence and a short summary of the fic. – Send me a word anon!

Tell us an idea for a longfic you want to write in the future. Ok, so I have three main longfic ideas, but the easiest one to explain is an AU set in a version of the 1980s where ancient greek deities exist, Axl’s life is parallel to that of Perseus, and Slash is cursed like Medusa.   Lots of drama, lots of influence from greek theater, untrustworthy gods, unrequited feelings, dramatic irony... fuck I hope I write it someday.  

Alright mad respect for anyone who got through all that!  Thanks for the ask, and feel free specify a fic for those last few questions if you wanna

#reply #sodafics

[avaalons]

Chris Evans Fic: Might Actually Be Perfect

I’m on a fluff roll! I need to get back in to angsty head space to finish one of my WIPs but for now, here’s another instalment of the Chris Evans and Model!You, based on a request from @msgem. Hope you enjoy!

***

It was bedtime in the Evans household and that meant story time. With four kids aged seven and under, finding a story that suited the full range of sons and daughters was a struggle, as was the timing.

Story time needed to be early enough for two (almost three, Chris reminded himself) year old Connor and this caused some not-very-well-hidden disdain on the part of seven year old Mason, who was the oldest and beginning to think that meant he was entitled to certain privileges beyond having a bed time half an hour later than his two younger sisters: Grace, five and Freya, three.

‘Dad, I’m too old for story time now. I’m seven! And it’s way too early for me anyway, my bed time is way later now!’ Mason’s dramatic stance was almost laughable as he stood in the doorway of your bedroom, feet apart, arms crossed defiantly across his chest. He was so like you it wasn’t even funny.

You had Connor curled up on your lap, your legs covered by the bed sheets. Your two baby girls were snuggled in next to you, awaiting their story. Chris was in the playroom and nursery next door, selecting this evening’s book but clearly also listening to Mason’s argument about story time.

You were about to intervene when you heard Chris’ calm voice drift into the hall.

’D'ya know what buddy? You’re totally right. You are way too old for story time now so you better just go ahead to your room, tuck yourself in and we’ll see you tomorrow. I think that’s what all grown up seven year olds do, isn’t that right, Mom?’

He addressed the last question to you as he appeared next to Mason in the doorway, two books in hand. You played along, realising Chris’ attempt at reverse psychology.

‘Your dad’s right Mase, you’re just too grown up for us now. So goodnight sweetheart, see you in the morning.’

Chris placed a hand gently on his shoulder, ‘I know your bedtime isn’t for another hour yet but if you can’t come to story time anymore, you better just go sit in your room until it’s half past seven.’

Mason was clearly at a loss, not expecting this sudden turn of events, as he glanced between the two of you before sloping off in the direction of his room. You and Chris shared a knowing smile as Chris approached the bed.

‘Right then, for those of us that aren’t too old for story time, our choices tonight are The Gruffalo or Room on the Broom!’

Gracie immediately shouted, ‘Room on the Broom!’

‘The Gruffalo, The Gruffalo!’ Freya insisted.

‘Oh dear, it seems we have a stale mate. Does our youngest audience member have a preference?’ Chris directed his gaze over to you and the toddler curled up against your chest.

‘I think Connor’s too tired out to mind hugely,’ you offered.

‘I’ve got an idea, Daddy,’ Grace spoke out, voice slightly muffled by the sheets tucked around her mouth.

‘Go on then baby girl, hit me with it,’ Chris stood with his arms outstretched, waiting for her reply. He was always so animated and such a showman with the kids, and they loved him for it.

‘Tell us the story of how you and Mommy met!’

Upon hearing this, Freya made her agreement known, chanting away until Grace joined in with her.

'Oh, you’ve heard this story hundreds of times!’

'But it’s our favourite. Please Dad, please?

Chris looked at you with his eyebrows raised in question, 'You happy to hear this story one more time?’

'Of course,’ you smiled back. The version Chris told was a little embellished here and there to up the entertainment factor for the kids but you still liked listening to it, to the way he told it.

'Oh, it’s a shame Mason isn’t here,’ Chris spoke deliberately loudly so that his voice would carry across the hall, 'Because I know he loves the story of how Mom and Dad met.’

Knowing the seed had been planted, he got into the bed you shared at the opposite side, sandwiching the girls between you.

'Okay kids, this is the story of how your mother and I met for the very first time,’ Chris began. Grace tucked herself into his side, one hundred percent the daddy’s girl and the complete mirror image of him. If Mason was all you, Grace was entirely Chris. 'And it’s a story with a very happy ending because obviously it led to all of you-’

Just then a shadow appeared at the door as a small creak of a floorboard was heard in the hall. Mason. You seized the opportunity as you held your younger son to you.

'Mason, honey, you don’t need to stand out there. Come in and join us. You can help tell the story. You’ve obviously heard it the most, being the oldest.’

A small head appeared from around the doorway, 'Only because it’s this story though. I’m too old for Room on the Broom.’

You bit back a chuckle and one look at Chris’ tense jaw told you he was having to do the same. He shifted towards you on the bed, creating a space at the side of him on the mattress.

'Here you go dude, there’s room for you here,’ Chris told him, patting the space. Mason sloped over, contrite, and hopped under the covers, not pushing Chris’ arm away when he tucked it around him.

'So, where was I?’

Grace was the first to remind him, 'It has a happy ending!’

'Ah yes, we know the ending, because this is the ending, all of us right here.’

'It didn’t start as well though, did it Dad?’ Mason spoke out from Chris’ right hand side, desperate to be involved after almost losing out on story time altogether.

'Nope, it certainly did not. And why was that Mason?’

'Because mom hated dad when they first met!’ Your eldest began giggling uncontrollably, which set off Gracie and Freya as well.

Chris looked over at you, grinning, clearly remembering those early days over a decade ago now. Back then, you hadn’t even been sure if it was possible to love this deeply at all, having never had experience of it. But that all changed as Chris slowly but surely began to win you over.

'She did, unfortunately,’ Chris continued in a stage whisper, 'Mainly because she’d already decided what I must be like without even getting to know me first.’

'Hey!’ You protested, using your free hand to stroke Freya’s wavy hair back from her face as she lay sleepily against the pillow, 'In my defence, you were a super annoying boy.’

'All boys are annoying, aren’t they mom?’ Gracie said from Chris’ side.

'That’s my girl,’ Chris agreed, proudly, 'Boys are annoying and you can just keep thinking that until you’re at least thirty. But I was actually thirty five at the time, so, technically, not a boy.’

'Sorry, let me be more specific. A thirty five year old man child,’ you quipped back.

'Okay, okay, let’s just say that I had some trouble growing up, unlike Mason here,’ Chris poked his son gently in the ribs, making him giggle at the tickle.

'So what did you do to annoy Mom, Dad?’ Mason was impatient to get back on track.

So Chris told, again, the story of how you met at a big work party in LA, and he thought instantly that you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He saw you from across the room and it was like time stopped, he no longer saw anyone else, just you (you rolled your eyes with a smile at that, remembering how drunk he had been that night). Chris continued to describe how nervous he had been to approach you and how he’d hovered around as you chatted and laughed with other people and waited for a chance to introduce himself. He had taken note of what you were drinking so he could order you the same (an orange soda in this kids version, obviously, a Tequila Sunrise in the real version) and when he finally managed to cut in, he tripped over someone’s foot in the crowd and split the orange soda (Tequila Sunrise) all down your blush pink red carpet dress.

The kids all gasped at this, even though they knew it by heart.

'Oh Dad, how embarrassing,’ Mason piped up, sounding much older than this seven years.

'I know dude, I wasn’t always as dashing and charming as I am now. Luckily, you don’t seem to have inherited my meatball characteristics.’

'Nah, I’m pretty cool,’ Mason grinned cheekily.

'Yeah, yeah, careful that head doesn’t get too big to get out the door,’ Chris warned him in his good natured way.

'Next Daddy, next!’ Freya demanded.

'Okay sweetheart, what happened next? Let me think… so there was your mom with orange soda all down her dress and there was me wanting the ground to just open up and swallow me whole and she just looked at me, in shock at first, and I was paralysed with embarrassment. And eventually, she just snapped, 'Nice to meet you too!’ And then she disappeared into the crowd towards the bathrooms and I never saw her again,’ he finished with a grin, knowing what would come next.

'Daaaaaaddddd, that’s such a lie! How could we all be here now if you never saw her again?’ Grace giggled.

'Oh, of course, I was forgetting the most important part…’

And he continued to say how, months later, you had met by chance at a Patriots game (Chris and all the kids cheered) and Chris had been surprised to see you, both in the stadium and in Boston in general. But he knew it was a sign. And even though you were there with another guy (the kids all joined in a chorus of 'Booooooooo!’ at this, turning the story into a real pantomime), he just knew that this was his chance to make you see that he was actually fairly decent. It turned out that the other guy was just your friend’s older brother and that you weren’t seeing anyone.

'So I swept her off her feet!’ Chris finished triumphantly and you scoffed loudly.

'Hardly!’

'Well no, but I did get her and her friends some better seats near me and Uncle Scott and bought her a hot dog and fries at halftime.’

'And did you forgive him, Mom?’ Mason asked, peering over Chris’ chest.

'I did, just about. The Pats lost that day and he was so sad, I took pity on him, so when he asked how long I was in Boston for and would I like to go to dinner the next night, I couldn’t say no.’

'That’s right kids, you’re all sat here right now because your mom agreed to go on a pity date with me.’

'What’s a pity?’ Freya asked quietly.

'It’s when you feel so bad for someone, you do something nice for them even though you really don’t want to,’ Chris explained, patiently.

Freya’s eyes went wide, 'Mom, you didn’t want to be boyfriends and girlfriends with dad??’

'It wasn’t too much longer after that I did sweetheart, don’t worry. The night after, your dad came and picked me up, brought me some flowers, and took me to a really, really fancy restaurant. He was wearing a gorgeous suit that made him look really handsome and he’d booked a whole room just for us.’

'I was trying to impress her,’ Chris continued, 'But when we got the menus, neither of us seemed to be able to decide on what we wanted and when I was looking at your mom, she actually scrunched her nose up at something, like it was really horrible, and I knew then I’d made a mistake.’

***

Chris had looked at you across the table and decided to go with a joke, 'Man, I can’t seem to find the burger section anywhere.’

You remembered feeling so relieved. Everything on the menu sounded ridiculous, some of it downright disgusting, and the prices! As unsure as you were about Chris, you were fairly certain he was going to foot the bill of this little outing and you didn’t want him spending all that for you to push your food around your plate and get hammered on expensive wine because you had nothing in your stomach.

You had laughed nervously, not wanting to put a dampener on something he’d obviously gone to some effort to pull off, but he’d leant forward and whispered to you across the table, 'Come on, let’s go. I know a place.’

You had grabbed your clutch bag while he threw some bills on the table to cover the wine and the inconvenience and placed your hand in his when he offered it to you. Exhilarated, you dashed through the restaurant as the maitre d’ was showing a couple to a table and ran to the end of the block, pausing around the corner to catch your breath and laugh.

He’d laughed even more when he looked at you and saw that you’d plucked the bottle of wine from the ice bucket on the way out.

'What?! It was expensive! I wasn’t going to just leave it sitting there!’

'I think… I think you might actually be perfect.’

***

'So then we took our expensive lemonade and went to the best burger place in the city.'

'And your dad knew the owner of the restaurant and the building so he let us sit up on his roof and we did, on a blanket in our best clothes, eating our burgers and drinking lemonade out of two paper cups.’

'We could see all the lights of Boston and it was beautiful but still not as breathtaking as your mom.’

You looked at each other in affectionate silence for a moment, now with years of love between you but remembering that night when he’d kissed you gently, reverently on a blanket on a roof under the night sky of Boston, before glancing down and seeing that every single one of your four children were fast asleep.

Chris indicated towards them with his head and you nodded in silent agreement, no words needed for your communication. Chris scooped Mason up to take him to his room while you carefully shimmied off the mattress with Connor, carrying him to the nursery and laying him down gently. You checked the monitor was on and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, running a feather light finger down his warm cheek. Your baby boy was going to be three soon and barely even a baby anymore.

Back in the bedroom, Chris was gingerly picking up Grace and you reached for Freya. You tiptoed in silent convoy to the room they shared and lay them in their respective beds, switching on their glowing night light and taking turns to kiss them goodnight and tuck them in. Chris headed to the nursery to wish his youngest sweet dreams and you went to Mason’s room.

Leaning over, you brushed his mop of hair back from his forehead and kissed him on the exposed skin. He stirred slightly and his eyes flickered.

'Shh baby, it’s only me saying goodnight. Go back to sleep.’

He reached his arms up to wrap around your neck and spoke in a muffled, sleep-ridden voice.

'I’m really glad you gave dad a chance.’

You chuckled quietly, 'Me too, sweetheart. He’s a pretty good dad, isn’t he?’

'Yeah, and you’re the best mom. Love you.’

With that, his arms dropped to the bed and he fell into slumber.

'Love you too, my baby boy,’ you whispered, feeling your eyes well with… you weren’t sure what exactly. A combination of love, nostalgia, sadness that time was passing so quickly but also hope for a wonderful future.

With one last press of your lips to his forehead, you arose and softly stepped out of the room, leaving the door ajar the way he liked. Chris was leaning against the bannister of the stairs, greeting you with his lop sided smile but it quickly fell when he saw your watery eyes.

'Hey baby, what’s wrong?’ Concern dropped from his voice and he stepped towards you to gather you into his arms.

'Oh, I don’t know,’ you huffed against his chest, 'they’re just growing up so fast but they’re so great.’

You felt his chest rumble with a soft chuckle, 'I know sweetheart, we really did okay, didn’t we?’

'More than okay. I’m just being silly. Something about story time got me all emotional.’

You pulled back to swipe at your eyes but Chris was there already, brushing away the few tears that had escaped with gentle thumbs as you continued:

'Do you think it will always be like this? I just… sometimes I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.’

'Well, we’ve had our fair share of ups and downs but we’ve managed so far. Don’t forget we’ve got to get four kids through their teenage years yet and if Mason now is anything to go by, we’re in for a hell of a ride.’

You barked out laugh through your subsiding sniffles, 'God help us.’

'There doesn’t always have to be a shoe, you know. Or a catch. We just… are who we are,’ Chris shrugged with a smile.

You smiled back, giving his face a good once over with your gaze, savouring the moment. Feeling that familiar gathering of heat low in your belly, you placed your hands on his shoulders, still strong and hard under your touch even though he was well into his forties now, and leant forwards to speak lowly in his ear.

'And could who we are right now be a husband carrying his wife to their bed to make slow, delicious love all night?’ You pulled back so he could see your face and then shrugged nonchalantly, 'Or at least for an hour, because you know, kids and sleep.’

You were so close you could see his pupils dilate as he spoke in rough voice, 'I think that can probably be arranged.’

And with that, he threw you over his shoulder, swatted you lightly on the ass as you tried to swallow down your surprised giggle, and carried you to your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him with his foot.

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