#But with an arm threaded warmly around Ed

[saltpepperbeard]

oh, don’t mind me, just thinking about-

-how stede tends to sleep on his back, which i’m pretty sure is just the biggest open invitation for ed to sleep cuddled up on his chest, snuggled impossibly close

[staches-and-sabres]

A Drabble...

Margaret slowly opened her eyes as her mind drifted back into consciousness, and the first thing she noticed was her husband’s absence.  Her husband.  She and Edmund had been married for almost a week now, and had been staying at his family’s castle in Stirlingshire since the day after the wedding, but she was still adjusting to her new identity as his wife.  As a viscountess.  As a Buchanan.  The latter, to her surprise, was proving to be the most novel experience of the three.  She was raised in a family of English commoners, whose surnames and property ownership were the only clear threads connecting them, but Edmund’s family in Scotland shared so much more than that.  They had their own coat of arms, their own motto, even their own particular textile patterns that set them apart and brought them together.  And from the moment she set foot on the Buchanan estate, they embraced her as one of their own.  In fact, she was nearly overwhelmed by their enthusiasm upon meeting her, and it had taken most of the week to become accustomed to such frankness and vigor the likes of which she had rarely encountered in England.  But they welcomed her.  Loved her, even.  Just as Edmund had assured her they would .  .  .  

Margaret reached over and felt the cool sheets on Edmund’s side of the bed, then recalled that he had planned to go walking with his uncle Robert before breakfast.  She sat up and drew back the bed-curtain on her side, letting the early morning light wash over her.  It was almost eight o’clock, so she presumed that the men would be coming back soon if they weren’t already, and she decided she would go out and meet them as they returned to the house.  She quickly got up and dressed herself, then quietly made her way downstairs and greeted the servants she encountered as she padded toward the main entrance.  One of the footmen met her at the door and offered to let her out, and she nodded her head and thanked him before stepping outside into the gentle morning breeze.  

The air was crisp but not unpleasantly so, and Margaret absently pulled her ivory knit shawl closer around her shoulders as she looked out over the front lawn and listened for the voices of either Edmund or his uncle.  Hearing nothing, and since she was outside already, she descended the steps and wandered over to an elm tree by the garden so she could sit down on the bench beneath it and simply take in the morning for a while.  After some fifteen minutes or twenty, she heard a faint crunching of gravel and looked over to see the two men rounding the corner at the far end of the house.  They were both kilted, which didn’t surprise Margaret anymore -- in fact, she had hardly seen Edmund in trousers since they arrived in Stirlingshire except the ones he wore to bed -- but she was struck once again by how handsome he looked, and yet how extraordinarily different.

Lord Robert was the first to see her from across the way, and he greeted her with a wave and shouted, “Good marnin’, milady!”  

Margaret shook her head in amusement as she stood and called back, “Good morning, Uncle!”  She strode towards the two men until they were all at a more reasonable distance from one another, then extended her left hand to her husband and said, warmly, “Good morning, Ed.”

Edmund took her hand and replied, “And to you, my dear,” then planted a soft kiss on her cheek.  

“Och!” Robert exclaimed in mock reproach.  “Goan an’ give ‘er a proper kiss, lad -- there’s nae wee ones aboot!”  He winked impishly and chortled as his nephew’s face grew red, and in that moment Margaret realized what she ought to do.  In one fluid motion propelled solely by determination, she took a half-step toward Edmund, cradled his jaw with her hands, and gave him a ‘proper’ kiss she typically reserved for moments when there was no one else around.  Her heartbeat pounded in her head as she drew back, and before her brain had time to register what she had just done, she nodded sharply and turned and marched straight back to the house, pulling her shawl tightly around her trembling shoulders.  If Edmund or Robert made a sound, she couldn’t hear it over the drumming in her ears, but she still felt their eyes on the back of her head until the front door was closed behind her.

[aswithasunbeam]

The Three Ten to NYC, A Modern Hamliza Fic

[Read on AO3]

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Eliza and Alexander are stuck at Union Station in the middle of the night. Despite long coffee lines, angry tweets, and general sleep deprivation, Eliza is head over heels in love and feels like the luckiest girl in the world.

A fluffy modern hamliza AU

The dull drone of an announcement crackled over the speakers. Eliza listened just long enough to hear something about a delayed southbound train, then tuned it out once again. The line for coffee, which snaked back and forth through several loops of sleep deprived passengers, inched forward a little more, only for the woman who’d finally stepped up to counter to hesitate over her order. Apparently, the fifteen minutes she’d been standing in line wasn’t quite enough time for her to work out what she wanted, Eliza thought with an internal huff.

Trying to block out her frustration, Eliza swiped at the screen of her phone and opened the photo gallery. Alexander’s handsome face grinned at her from the latest picture. It was a photo she’d snapped just hours ago in their cramped hotel room. He’d already removed his jacket and loosened his tie, and he was trying to entice her to join him in the shower.

“I sat through a two hour meeting about climate change and the importance of water conservation today. I’m feeling very motivated.”

“We’re supposed to be washing up and taking a nap,” she’d reminded him, lying atop the covers on their bed scrolling through her phone. “Our train leaves at three in the morning.”

“Yeah, of course,” he’d agreed innocently, slowly removing his tie and backing up towards the bathroom. “This is just about being responsible with precious natural resources.”

“Uh huh.” A dimple had appeared in his cheeks as she’d hummed with disbelief. She’d snapped the picture just before she pushed off the bed to follow him, unable to resist. They’d never quite gotten around to properly washing up or napping. But a little sleep deprivation wasn’t such a high price to pay when he’d looked so damn cute, she granted herself.  

Usually when Alexander traveled to D.C. with the Senator, she remained behind in New York. This time, though, the dates of his trip happened to line up with a child welfare conference that she’d been wanting to attend anyway. Not being away from her new fiancée for a full week had only been an added benefit.

When Senator Washington heard she had accompanied Alexander to D.C., he invited them both to his second home on the Potomac for a quiet dinner. In Mrs. Washington’s kind and capable hands, that quiet dinner had turned into a surprise blowout engagement party, complete with many of Alexander’s oldest friends, a live band, and thousands of white lights strung up from the house all the way down to the river. Eliza wouldn’t have traded that magical night of laughter and dancing for anything in the world.

She was playing with the filter on a picture of the two of them down by the water when she finally found herself at the front of the line. Thrusting her phone into the back pocket of her jeans, she stepped up the counter to order two black coffees and, impulsively, a buttery croissant from the bake case. The two coffees were passed to her over the counter as she paid, allowing her to bypass the huddled mass of customers waiting on lattes and macchiatos. She placed her brown pastry bag on the coffee station to add a half and half to her cup, then headed back towards the benches with her purchases in hand.

Alexander had long since traded his suit jacket and tie for his ratty Columbia sweatshirt before they left the hotel, and thick framed glasses were sliding down his nose. The light from his laptop screen reflected in the lenses pounded at the keyboard. His eyes always carried a slightly bruised quality, but the circles seemed darker in the harsh unnatural lighting, and his face and shoulders looked tense.

“Hello, handsome. Is this seat taken?” Her voice was heavy with exaggerated flirtation and she batted her eyes ridiculously as she sat beside him, hoping to make him laugh.

He smiled weakly and accepted the coffee from her. The drink was still piping hot, but he gulped it down like it was room temperature. Putting the cup down on the bench on his other side, he jabbed his finger at his laptop and said, “Look at this.”

She scooted closer so their shoulders were pressed together while she looked at the screen. Twitter was open, and he was gesturing at a tweet from a senator’s aide in the opposition party. Why he insisted on reading that garbage and getting all riled up over it, she still didn’t understand.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she answered vaguely, without really taking in the content of the tweet, “How awful.”

“This kind of blatantly racist bullshit is why we can’t have intelligent, rational conversations about immigration in this country,” he fumed, and switched tabs to a google doc to resume his furious typing. He’d already filled a page and half with text, she noticed. A smile crept over her face as she tried to figure out whether he was writing some kind of op-ed or just an extremely long thread of tweets.

“Any updates on the train?” she asked, interrupting the rant she heard gathering steam under his breath.

“I guess it was delayed coming out of  Richmond,” he answered, still focused on his computer. “They’re estimating another thirty minutes.”

She sighed and pulled the croissant from the paper bag. Splitting the pastry down the middle, she offered Alexander half. He gave it a sidelong glance and shook his head. “I’m not that hungry.”

“You’re sure? You didn’t eat much before we left.”

“Yeah.” He slid his left hand under his glasses to rub his eyes. “My head is killing me.”

“That’s what you get for using up our nap time.”

He smirked and readjusted his glasses. “Nah, it was worth it.”

Leaning over, she placed a kiss against his lips and pushed his laptop closed. He chuckled warmly, although the tension in his brow remained. She ran her fingers through the hair at his temple tenderly. “I think I have Tylenol in my purse. Do you want some?”

He nodded. She bent down to rifle through her bag until she felt the travel sized bottle on the bottom. Dry swallowing the two pills she handed him, he chased them with another gulp of coffee.  

“Want to look at some pictures from the party?” she offered, a transparent ploy to keep him away from twitter. “People have been sharing them with me all day.”

Thankfully, he gave in easily despite the obvious tactic. Twisting on the bench to face her, he invited “Let’s see ‘em.”

She shifted closer so they could both see her phone. He laughed at the first picture of him, Gilbert, and Mulligan with their arms around each other, though she thought she heard a hint of melancholy in the sound. She’d seen dozens of similar photos of the group from over the years, but always with a fourth member: the legendary and beloved Jack, who’d been killed on his third overseas deployment a few years earlier. She didn’t linger or press, and his laugh turned lighter when she showed him the next picture of him looking at the buffet table. “Oh, God, please get rid that one. What is that face I’m making? I look like I have three chins.”

“You do not,” she laughed.

“No?” he asked as he made a goofy face and pulled his chin back towards his neck.

She snorted and broke out into giggles. “So sexy.”  

“Wow, I need to borrow those love goggles of yours.” He reached out and slid his finger over the screen to look at the next photo: a selfie she’d meant to delete already because her eyes were half shut. “See, now, that’s better.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you need to borrow anything.”

They spent the next several minutes sipping at their coffees and scrolling through the rest of the photos.

“I want to print this one,” she told him, stopping again on the photo of them by the river, the same one she’d been fussing with in the coffee line. Mrs. Washington had snapped it early in the evening, so they both looked fresh faced and happy. Eliza was smiling for the camera, but Alexander was looking at her with the sweetest, softest expression she’d ever seen him wear. The pure love she saw shining in his eyes made her heartbeat quicken and her stomach fill with the wonderful kind of butterflies.

He nodded seriously. “We should. That came out nice.”

She cuddled closer and leaned her head on his shoulder. “It was a beautiful party.”

“It was,” he agreed, twirling a finger through the loose hair on her shoulders.

“I’m just glad I didn’t embarrass you.”

The words had tumbled out of her mouth before she’d really thought them through. He stilled beside her and then straightened. She could feel him trying to catch her eye.

“What are you talking about?”

She winced. Exhausted as she was, she’d let slip the insecure thoughts that usually floated, safe and unspoken, around in the back of her mind. She had a healthy amount of self-confidence, really. She knew she was kind, moral, beautiful, and far from stupid.  But ever since she’d started dating Alexander, she’d had a deep, dark fear that one day she’d say something in a group of Alexander’s genius friends that would make him realize how much she didn’t fit in with them. It was something she worried about secretly, late at night, when she watched him sleep beside her and wondered what sort of miraculous, world-changing ideas were brewing in his mind.

“It’s just…everyone there was so accomplished. So brilliant.”

“You’re brilliant.”

She scoffed. “Not like they are. Not like you.”

“Eliza, you are the most beautiful, compassionate, loving, amazing person I’ve ever met.”

Her gaze fell to her lap, not able to look at him as she tried to explain. “I barely made it through college. I’m never going to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a scientist. I only have the chance to do so much volunteer work because my family has money. I just, I worry that someday you’re going to look at me, and….”

“Hey.” He tilted her chin up. “You go to work every day and help dozens upon dozens of kids in awful circumstances. I see the kind of hours and the commitment you put in. You fight for those kids, you raise money for them, and you care about each and every one of them. You are smart, and capable, and driven. And I am so proud of you.”

Her throat went tight with emotion, and her vision turned a little blurry. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he assured her. He gave her a sweet, soft kiss. “We all sit around and talk about policy language, and rant at each other on social media, but you’re the one doing the real work. It’s one of the first things that drew me to you. If everyone took the privileges they were given and used them for good the way you have, the world would be a beautiful place.”

A strange, but wonderful realization dawned on her.

As she’d gotten to know him, she would from time to time pick up on his insecurities, and she’d always find herself puzzled. It seemed to her that the things he felt the most self-conscious about were, in reality, his greatest strengths. He worried about his past, about his job, about his lack of money, but all she saw was someone who’d overcome long odds, who did great and important work, even at the cost of personal glory and fortune.

Now, seeing all that love in his eyes again, she realized for the first time that he felt the same about her. All those things she worried about late at night in the dark, the parts of her she’d tried to hide from him, he’d seen in her all along. He’d seen her, and he loved her, not in spite of those parts, but because of them. Never before in her life had she felt so wholly and completely loved.

“I love you so much,” she whispered.

He smiled. “I love you, too.”

The grainy voice announced their train would be arriving at platform ten, intruding on the tender moment. They shared a quick kiss before they stood and collected their baggage, Alexander shoving his laptop back into his bag while she popped up the handle on her carry-on. They fell easily into step as they made their way to the platform.

They didn’t speak as they stood under the orange lights on the platform to wait for the arriving train. Eliza turned to face him, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close in the cool spring night air. Hardly anyone was around for the late night train to the city.

She felt the powerful whoosh of air as the train approached, and she reluctantly released him so they could board. Thankfully, the cars weren’t particularly full. They found seats towards the back of the car and settled in next each other. She’d expected him to pull out his laptop again when they settled in for the three and a half hour ride home, but instead he rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

“How’s your head?” she asked softly.

“Better. I’m just really tired.”

She tugged him towards her, so that his head rested against her shoulder. He removed his glasses off, shoving them into the pocket of his sweatshirt, and adjusted to rest against her chest, his arm stretched out to embrace her. Her hand traced patterns over his back as the train pulled away from the station towards home.

In the quiet of the train, as Alexander began to snuffle softly, she gazed down at the diamond ring on her left hand and smiled. She was engaged to the love of her life. All the little frustrations and worries from the past hours had melted away. Delayed trains and long lines, angry politicians and sleep deprivation—none of those things mattered in the slightest. Not when Alexander was in her arms.

[juniperallura]

5 & 15 for Shallura ?

5. hold my hand | 15. shooting staraccepting

“Okay, hear me out…what about this one?”

Allura turned, tucking a strand of hair pulled loose by the wind back behind her ear. She could hear his goofy smile in his voice, and sure enough when she looked down at his hand it was cradling the ugliest thing she had ever seen in her life. 

One side was concave, folded and collapsing in on itself, while the other protruded with an ugly bubble. The whole thing was covered in warts, flaunting a disgusting palette of dirty greens and sickened yellows. 

Allura pursed her lips, raising a brow at him. “Are you sure that’s even a pumpkin?”

“You don’t like it?”Shiro laughed, holding it by the bottom to look it square in the wart. “I think it’s kinda cute, if you squint at it the right way.”

“Squinting makes it look like roadkill. But maybe that’s just me,” Allura said, planting a hand on her hip. “Your mom’s coming next weekend, do you really want that to be the first thing she sees in our new apartment?”

“Absolutely. I would put this beautiful pumpkin over our mantle, if we had one.” Shiro gave her that crooked grin of his, the one he got when he thought he was being just hilarious. 

Allura had to bit her lip to hold back a smile. She didn’t have to squint to see how cute he was, even holding that horrendous thing, in his aviator jacket, that big plaid scarf she loved (she always said red was his color,) his hair tucked into a beanie. The chilly October breeze ruffled the shock of white that poked out from beneath the hat and brought a tinge of pink to his cheeks. With that smile and the twinkle in his eyes, she was dangerously close to agreeing even to that radioactive experiment of a pumpkin. She shook her head, turning and waving a hand at him. “No. No! You won’t convince me, we’re getting a nice one-”

A solid-sounding splat cut her off. She turned to see Shiro now standing empty-handed and staring at a pile of oozing pumpkin guts. He looked up at her with wide eyes, “I didn’t mean to!”

“Shiro!” Allura glanced around them. A little kid started pointing at them, pulling on her mom’s sleeve. About ten feet away, the guy who had driven them out to the pumpkin patch was shaking his head at them from his perch on the tractor. 

Shiro and Allura met each other’s eyes. 

She clung to his elbow as they ran from the scene of the crime, giggling as they tripped over the hard packed furrows and crunching vines. 

An hour later they emerged from the farm store loaded down with apple cider, fresh doughnuts, and one big, beautiful, normal pumpkin. The sun had began to fall behind the hills that rolled into the distance, coloring the world beyond the warmly lit courtyard cool purples and blues. Allura took in a deep breath of crisp air, exhaling slowly and contently. 

“Here, Shiro, let me take it,” she said, shifting the gallon of cider so she could reach for the pumpkin.

Of course he only tightened his arm around it, frowning, “Why? It’s fine, I’ve got it.”

Allura rolled her eyes. “I know, but I don’t wanna hold hands with a stem.”

“Oh,” Shiro chuckled, “Here-” It took a minute for them to shuffle everything, Shiro rolling the pumpkin into the Allura’s waiting hand, Allura tucking the bag of doughnuts under Shiro’s residual limb (only after ardent promises that he wouldn’t crush them,) but finally Shiro’s hand, calloused and warm, was folded into hers. He leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Much better.” 

A contented sigh left Allura as they reached the car and she tucked their pumpkin into the back seat. Snuggling next to Shiro on the hayride, sampling their fill of homemade ice cream until they were no longer welcome in the bakery, talking him down from investing in a hay bale ottoman; it was one of those rare days that sat so light and warm in her chest she didn’t want to leave it. Just before she let out another sigh she felt Shiro’s arm wrap around her waist. He kissed her on the cheek and then settled his chin on her shoulder. “Hey, want to go get us some hot chocolate before we go?” he said close to her ear.

Allura glanced over the parking lot, the farm buildings glowing in the distance across its dark stretch. “You want me to go?” She frowned, trying to turn so she could read Shiro’s face, “What if there’s a murderer in those fields? What if I get Children of the Corn-ed?”

She could only feel the buzz of his chuckle against her back. “I’ll keep an eye out, I promise. If anyone emerges from the corn I’ll throw our pumpkin at them.”

“Always so reassuring,” she muttered, but didn’t protest further, only threw him a look as she walked toward the farm. 

A few minutes later she was shuffling back across the parking lot, two steaming Styrofoam cups in hand. So far no sign of any creepy corn people, but she froze when she saw the car. The lights were on, windows rolled down and radio playing softly- but no sign of Shiro. In a single second her mind went to every worst case scenario, but then he called her name and she noticed that he was sitting on the hood, a old woven blanket spread beneath him. The pounding in her chest quickly turned to a flood of warmth. 

“I hope it’s okay,” he said as she climbed up next to him, “I know it’s late, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave just yet.” He smiled, reaching to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“Well, you read my mind.” She scooted close to him, savoring his warmth and the musk of his cologne as she nestled against his shoulder. He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “Your lips are cold,” she giggled.

“Really?” Shiro’s hand slid from her hair to hold her chin gently, tilting her face toward his. “Maybe you can help me warm them up.”

“You are so cheesy,” she groaned, while a growing smile betrayed her.

“You walked right into that one,” he breathed, his dark eyes only inches from hers.

She could feel him smiling as their lips met. His jaw was the slightest bit rough with stubble, a contrast to the mouth that molded to hers, soft as velvet. His hand moved to cup her cheek, drawing her closer to him. They broke away only to find each other’s lips again, softly and tenderly. She felt Shiro hum in the back of his throat as he chased her lips for one more touch. 

“If you keep kissing me like that I’m going to spill this hot cocoa I worked so hard for,” she murmured. 

“Sorry,” Shiro said, although his expression certainly didn’t look it. He let Allura thread her hand through the crook of his elbow as they sat back to sip their drinks and gaze up at the night sky. 

Once Allura had drained her cup she slid down to rest her head against his shoulder, laying her arm over his chest. The smell of distant bonfire smoke came on the breeze, but Allura didn’t feel its chill nestled in Shiro’s embrace. Her head moved with the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and as her eyes adjusted stars began to bloom in the night sky. For awhile they didn’t say anything, letting the warbling of the car radio fill the silence. Shiro’s hand absently caressed her shoulder, occasionally running through her hair.

The overwhelming warmth of her happiness was threatening to lull her to sleep when a sudden streak of silver light skated across the stars. “Shiro!” She gasped, tapping his chest, “Look! Did you see it?”

He nodded, his gleaming eyes searching the sky. “A shooting star,” he murmured, mirroring her wondrous smile. He squeezed her elbow. “Did you make a wish?”

“Of course,” Allura winked, “But you won’t get it out of me, so don’t even try.”

Shiro chuckled, drawing her close in his arm. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Another gust blew from the distant hills, but Allura didn’t notice; she was too preoccupied by the thrill in her veins as she leaned into Shiro’s sweet kiss, wishing on that star that the moment would never end.

[audreysl0ve]

Prompt Party: Day 3: #1 FWB

Set in the Signed, Sealed and Delivered verse, this is for Prompt #1: FWB.

She loves moments like these.  Moments when their gasping pants, those struggles to catch their breath,  meld together in some sort of aftersex serenade.  Her limbs feel boneless and pliant, and there's this sense of weightlessness as she comes down from her high.

He is next to her.  Not just next to her, but all around her, like he always is after his climax.  It never fails, no matter where they are, how much time they have, what position they are in…

After they finish he always pulls her close, shifts so he can take her in his arms, and presses these little chaste pecks into her hair and forehead.

And that's not supposed to be what this is about, but she absolutely, positively loves it.

“That was amazing,” she rasps, her throat dry and sore from overuse.

“As it always is with you,” Robin replies, popping a kiss to her lips as a perfect period to the sentence.

She's smiles feeling, well, proud.  Because it always is wonderful when they are together, isn't it?

And he's hardly inexperienced but he's told her she's the best he's ever had time and again, and from the way he is looking at her now, she believes him.  

“I missed you all week,” Regina admits.  “I wanted you so bad on Thursday.. .”

“ Oh god don't bring that up,” Robin groans, “I'll never forgive Emma, why wouldn't she give you a damn moment alone?”

Regina sighs and snuggles into him.  “Mm, things are going well with Neal and she's excited.  But, yes, I still wish we had our stolen moments on the way to the bathrooms, especially when you were blowing up my phone with those texts.”  She raises her eyebrows at him accusatorily.  “That was unfair.”

“That dress  was unfair,” he counters, nuzzling into her neck and planting a kiss there.  “You are so fucking gorgeous, I can't help myself around you.”

Whenever he says things like that, her heart skips a beat.  This isn't anything.  He's her dirty little secret, and she's his.  She's not supposed to feel like this.  This is just a way to mutually destress.  A friendly exchange of orgasms, and that's it.  It can't lead anywhere else.

“I guess I'm the only one with self-control in this relationship,” she quips.  But when his eyes go  wide, and he smirks at her in this adoring way, she realizes what she just said.  The word ‘relationship ’makes her blush, that wasn't what she meant, that's not… “Err, I didn't mean relationship like—”

But his voice is soft and warm as he pulls her close.  “Regina, love, how much longer are you going to make me wait?”

It throws her off, because he can't be asking what she thinks he's asking, can he?  They discussed this, they agreed, it can't lead anywhere…

She turns to face him, tangling her legs in his, and bites her lip.  “Oh, I don't think I've made you wait at all.  And if you're asking how long I'll make you wait for another round—”

“Not that.” He  smoothes a hand down her arm from shoulder down to her wrist until he's threading his fingers in hers.  “This.  When are you going to let us be together for real?”

“I…” Her mind goes blank, panic spreads over her body.  There are no words, she's still in the afterglow, and he's dropped this on her.  She swallows the lump in her chest down and then reminds him, “that's not what this is.”

“It is for me,” he says simply, “It's always been what this is, and I've not been entirely honest with you, but that ends now.”

Her throat goes dry and her mind is reeling.  This isn't what she expected when she snuck into his apartment this afternoon.  Technically she had asked Robin if he wanted grab a quick bite to eat, but they both knew what would happen when she showed up to his place, freshly waxed and flushed with a need to be touched.  She just signed up for a quick little afternoon fuck and cuddle.  

She didn't expect to talk about the feelings they have both been dancing around for… years, if she’s being honest with herself.

“I…” she starts, swallowing heavily.  “We agreed that this was just… meaningless.  A no strings attached type of activity...”

“You’re right.  We did.  But it was never meaningless to me, and I can’t do this anymore.    I don't want to watch you fall in love with another man and leave this.  I want us to be real.”  He bites his lip and adds,  “Seeing you with Eric last week was pure torture.  I knew I had no right but the moment i heard about it I just…”

She winces, thinking of that day.  Robin had been visiting Emma when she was getting ready.  And Emma just dropped that she had a date, like it was nothing.  She knew she sensed something in the way he looked at her, as she did a wardrobe change, as she did her makeup.  That sweet, soft little look that didn’t look like jealousy, so she ignored.  But now she’s placed it.  It was fear, not jealousy.  He was afraid of losing her.  “I don’t… you know I don’t do relationships.  And nothing happened with Eric anyway, like I told you—”

“I know, and you have no idea how relieved I was to hear that. But I saw you all dressed up to see him, looking all sexy and sweet, and I thought to myself, who could help but fall for you?  And I know you said you don’t do relationships, but I can’t help but worry that it's only a matter of time, and I can't, Regina, I can't just sit back and wait for someone to take you from me.  Not without letting you know how I feel, at least.”

And she knows what it  means, because it really is awful to watch Robin talk to other girls.  Every time Regina sees him near some cute co-ed, she sits back wondering if she is the one, the person that will take him away from her forever. And each time this happens her heart burns with a possessiveness she has no right to feel.  She really doesn't want to lose him, but she tells herself to fight it, to calm down, because she has no right to think this way.

“It’s not exactly easy for me, either, you know.  That girl I saw you with yesterday— “ She speaks in only a whisper, grateful when Robin interrupts her with a let me explain.  

“That’s Jack, or Jacqueline, technically.  We hooked up at Ruby’s party a few months ago, and it was shit.  Or it wasn't, it was fine, but it was nothing compared to how it is with you so I stopped it after just a bit of kissing and touching over clothes.  And it only got that far because I saw you talking to Jefferson, and I just thought I had to stop thinking of us… as a couple.  She’s interested, and I am not  and that’s exactly what I told her yesterday .  I haven't been with anyone since that night, and I've no desire to.  You're so special to me, the thought of being with anyone else…” He shakes his head, as if he were talking about downing a bottle of castor oil.  “I’d choose you over anyone in this world, it’s not fair to start up something with someone else.”

“I didn’t know…” she rasps, because she didn’t, she really didn’t.  “I’d see you with others and you seemed so comfortable, so I just assumed—”

“But you have to know how I feel about you,” he presses, “you're the first person I want to talk to each morning, the first I come to for advice, when I have good news you're the first person I want to share it with.” He pulls her in closer, and she's suddenly embarrassed of how loud her heart is pounding.  “You know I think you're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen,” (she laughs in disbelief) “I'm serious, you've no idea how fucking perfect you are for me, but I don't want you to think it's all about looks.  It's not. I love your heart,” he dips down to kiss her chest, and that's when the tears she's been fighting break through, and her vision goes blurry.  “I can't imagine my life without you.  I can't imagine going a day in my life without spending a part of it with you.”

He kisses her forehead, looking at her so warmly, so lovingly.  She feels the same, of course she does.  But dating him is so risky.  It could cost her the most important friendship in her life — friendships, actually, she could lose Emma, and Mary Margaret, and fuck if things go poorly, she could lose Robin, and that's absolutely terrifying.

“Robin,” she breathes.  She scratches fingers through the scruff on his jawline. when her palm passes close to his lips, he tilts his head to plant a quick peck there.  

“I don't want you to think I don't love this, Regina, because I do.  I love fucking you. I love holding you like this, I love being there for you as a friend in public, and being for you here in private.  I even like the sneaking around.  I like having a little secret with you.  But it's not enough.” He must catch the hitch in her breath, and combs his fingers through her hair gently as if to soothe.  “If it's all you want, I'll live, I'll take this over nothing, over not having you in my life. And I’ll wait, if you want me to wait.  For as long it takes.  But this is not all I want.”

The tears that had filled her eyes finally fall as she blinks.  “Robin, I promised Emma—”

“Yes and so did I.  But that was nearly four years ago.  Since then you've become everything to me, and I don't care about broken promises.  I just want you.”

“If we do this,” her voice cracks, and the sound of the sheer vulnerability laced in her voice would embarrass her, if it were anyone other than Robin here.  But she's never worried about sounding weak in front of him.  Not since the moment they met.  “If we actually date, and it goes poorly—��

“It won't.”

It’s absurd how sure he sounds, as if he’s stating some fact.  Gravity exists, the earth spins on its axis, and Robin and Regina can date without it ending poorly.  He’s such an optimist, all the time.  But she is not.  And she has so much to lose.  So she shakes her head and squeezes her eyes tight and protests. “You can't know that, Robin, it could, and if it does, I'll lose all of you, I'll lose Mary Margaret, Emma, and you. I just don't think I could take that, I—”

He's kissing away her tears, all soft and sweet.  He then brings those tear stained lips to hers, for a final smooch.  “You'll never lose me, ever.  There's nothing you could do to change the way I feel about you.  So put that out of your mind.  Emma will be upset — at me more than you, mind you.  But she’ll get over it.  And quite frankly I’m positive you won’t lose Emma either.  She loves you as much as she loves me. And she wants us to be happy, and she's had to have known things were heading in this direction.  She's not blind.  Far from it, actually.”

She purses her lips and considers his words.  Emma and Robin are family, and though Emma has told her, so many times, that she thinks of her as a sister, as a missing piece of the puzzle, she doesn’t believe for a second she’d choose her over blood.  So she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.  “It's a big risk.”

“Mmhm, it is.  I want to take it, though.”  He sighs and rubs a thumb over her tear stained cheekbone.  The touch sends shivers down her spine as he rubs lightly over damp skin.  “What we have is great, isn't it?  I want to feel like this forever.  With you.”

She wants that too.  But it's still taking a huge leap off a steep cliff, and there's so many unknowns.  “What if part of the reason this is so good is because it's a secret?  What if once the secret is out, things become stale, and boring, and—”

“It won't be.”

“What makes you so confident?”

“Because I'm in love with you, Regina.” He smiles, eyes focused on hers.  

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[biceratops7]

Literally all I think about

oh, don’t mind me, just thinking about-

-how stede tends to sleep on his back, which i’m pretty sure is just the biggest open invitation for ed to sleep cuddled up on his chest, snuggled impossibly close