#but i hope that even if editing fics i wrote last autumn is still a challenge

[mimicteruyo]

Okay now there has to be less than 5k to go but also just how long is this chapter going to be?!

[acotarxreader]

Hounded

Eris x Reader

Synopsis: Eris loves his dogs more than any other living thing and they love him but soon his eldest hound has found a new interest, you and your endless supply of bread rolls. An unlikely friendship begins to form between the Son of Autumn and one of Springs last border guards, Craos is just hoping to create some sort of parent trap situation.

Warning: Fluff, banter, blood, wounds, doggos, Eris shaming the dogs belly, poor editing

A/N: Hi friends! I orginally wrote this for @erisweekofficial for the Hounds theme however I've been really in the trenches recently and only got around to finishing it now, so I'm sad to have missed Eris week but still happy to be publishing my first Eris fic! Let me know what you think!

P.S Craos (cray-us) in Irish means blazing when referring to fire and Tine (tin-ah) means fire so I named two of the dogs after these words for a lil Irish flare

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The hounds were Eris’s greatest pride and occasionally his greatest pain in the ass. He fought with this very thought the day his eldest hound, Craos had managed to dip out of his view one walk. Eris blamed himself for losing sight of his favourite friend, so deep in the thoughts of worry about the Night Courts antics that threatened to expose his double agent status to his father. Actually, he blamed them for her escape, it was easier that way. The Autumn leaves crackled against the weight of his heavy boots, his voice getting lost in the whipping whirling wind of the forest far from his residence. Eris swung harshly around on his heels, just in time to catch Craos bounding up the hill towards him, mischievous as ever. 

“You scared me half to death girl” He laughed down at her, running his thumbs over her ears in soothing circles she loved so much, his other hounds leaping around waiting for their turn. She seemed to wish to pull him in the direction she bolted from, something tethering her to the distant spot in the vast woods. “Come girl, leave that hare to its escape love, you’re getting…fluffy enough without the extra feed” he laughed, leashing her to him and taking her from her pointed stance. Eris made a mental note to closely monitor Craos food as she began to get rounder than the others in the pack, no doubt owing to the budding Autumn wildlife she’d snag unaccompanied.

-

The following weeks lead Eris down a rabbit hole of Night Court intricacy, forever walking the line between ally and babysitter. He took comfort in the daily strolls through the thicket of woodland, his beloved pack in toe. The days he missed the walks he noticed his own demeanour change, his interest in the tangled interpersonal mess the Inner Circle was weaving waning beyond even an ounce of interest. Eris checked his hounds daily and despite their own vast staff, he loved to take care of them and nurture the breed while nurturing something he wasn’t even sure he still had inside himself. Some care for another living thing. Not in a selfish way of course, but more in a self-preservation sense, what he loved had a habit of crumbling in his hands or being crushed in someone else’s. 

Deep in thought, Eris ran a hand down the head of one of his younger hounds, Tine, who laid his head on the lap of his master as Eris tried to gain an understanding of the written correspondence on the desk. Tine grumbled against Eris’s thigh before stretching down to the ground. 

“Its tough work being pampered Tine” he laughed to himself, casting an eye on the other 4 hounds, curled into their own worlds by the fire of the study. Eris smiled softly at the relaxed nature, would any other living thing find such comfort in the company he provided? He forced the ever-present question away from his thoughts, casting a look to the sofa where Craos would often take her rest. Empty. Eris stood abruptly, chair screeching along the slate enough to have Tine stand to attention once again. Craos had been there when the others came in from their dinner? Hadn’t she? Another attempt by the Night Court to swipe away Eris’s attention buried him in paperwork when the dogs were returned to him. 

Quick on his feet, Eris and his pack found the staff of the kennels and after a brief and sharp discussion it was unclear if Craos was with the pack on return from her exercise. Following sharp threats, Eris took to the woodland again, his hounds hunting down their own with precision. His voice reverberated off ancient trees as their crisp golden leaves began to ink with lush green colour. Thoughts of the worst clouded the shrubbed path as Eris felt the border of Spring, his second least favourite place in the realm.

“Craos!” He echoed across a section of the stream border between Spring and Autumn. The mischievous hound leapt with excitement at the presence of her master, bounding through the shallow stream to return to Autumn and its son. He gave thanks for Spring's current instability as during time previous he wouldn’t have gotten this close to the Spring border without a visit from the furry High Lord. Eris couched into the silt of the streams bank, rubbing Craos's goofy face while quietly scolding her, knowing full well she wasn’t listening. 

“Petal” Eris looked up from the rushes towards the call of the sing-song siren-like voice. Not in the mood for confrontation with Spring, Eris crouched further into the brambles, obscuring himself from the female across the watery border. Craos pulled against Eris’s gentle hold, eager to cross the border again and succeed with another call from the voice. Eris watched the most feared hound in all the realm, leap like a bunny rabbit to your shadow, jumping to lick your face as you crouched to allow her. 

“Petal darling easy” You laughed, coating the clearing in an ease unfamiliar to Eris. through the thick river rushes Eris watched his much-revered hound roll to her back for scratches before leaping up to follow your hand as it dug through your bag. 

“Okay, sit now” you laughed, Craos eagerly obeying and happily rewarded with a small bread roll you took from your bag. 

“Easy easy” You beamed as she scoffed the lot, Eris watched the interaction with equal parts confusion and intrigue and at that very moment realised the most feared son in all the realm was acting like a bunny rabbit hiding from a fox in the rushes. That very son shot upright quickly from his burrow, causing you to leap slightly with fright as Eris pulled his shoulders back in a more becoming stance. The both of you looked across the crystal-like stream, Craos jumping at your feet eager to resume your undivided attention. 

“Come” Eris called across the rushing water, only to have Craos not respond to him with obedience. You slowly ran your hand down the hounds head, not taking your eyes from the High Lord’s son. 

“Forgive me sir but you have no business this close to the Spring border” You tried your best to project confidence, it slipping from your grasp in the face of Eris’s heated stare. 

“You’re forgive” You fought hard to not roll your eyes at the obvious display of sarcasm. Eris lightly tapped his side, Craos’ ears snapping forward to attention before bounding across the stream to her master.

“Good”

“Don’t hurt her, she’s only coming home” You walked to the bank's edge, eyes scanning Craos for any sign of distress.

“Home?-” Eris found it hard to muffle his confused chuckle “-she is my hound, property of the Autumn Court-”

“Property!?-” You found the full strength in your voice “-she is a living being and she belongs to Prythian, she is more at home in the forest and with me-”

“-And who exactly are you?” Eris was quickly losing patience as Craos seemingly shrunk in stature at her master's strengthening tone. 

“It matters little, leave the dog and return away from my border-”

“-Orders?” Eris’s laugh filled the clearing, his heavy boots now stalking closer to the perimeter “-I will not take orders from anyone.”

“I hear you take orders from the Night Court” You laughed, it now skirting along Eris’s nerves instead of soothing them. 

“I do no such thing” The river water’s temperature began to rise as the son of the flame began to stalk closer. 

“Really? I heard you even bend over when dear Rhysie asks” You laughed again, Eris now causing the very edge of the river to steam. You raised a hand before his boot fully slid into the refreshing stream, a long wall of water dividing up the middle of the lake, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Ah ah-” you shook your finger towards him “-fire and water don’t mix sir” Craos ears pinned back at your words before she looked between the two of you, unsure of her own next move. 

“Your name, tell me your name” He chewed out, examining the translucent wall in front of him for cracks. 

“YN, the last keeper of my Court’s boarders” You smiled so innocently, it almost lured Eris back into that unfamiliar softness until he heard the soft sizzle of the dying flame at his fingertips, it turning to steam against the new border. 

“The last? Perhaps you should take that as a hint and seek further employment at a market or something?”

“Is that where Rhysand bought you?” You smirked, with more playfulness than power and Eris fought away his own smile. Craos leapt forward, Eris going to catch hold of her before she could slam into the fortified border but to his surprise, she glided through it with ease unavailable to him. 

“She can stay, you may go”

“She’s my hound, however, your supply of bread rolls certainly explains her newfound…plumpness” He heard her seemingly groan back in offesen and you looked from her to him. 

“Now you’re annoying two females, you should potentially quit while you’re ahead” Eris scoffed at your teasing, the sound of the other hounds bounding behind him piquing your interest. The four looked to their eldest sibling across the water, heads cocked to the side in curiosity and some form of canine communication. The four followed suit of their leader and crossed to you and Craos with ease. 

“Look at you lovelies” You beamed, crouching to meet the hounds as they reunited with their sister. Eris watched through the glistening border wall, his feared hounds reduced to cuddly toys under your touch. It was if he wasn’t even there. You interacted with them like they were never a threat and never would be, the way that he felt you might feel about him. A foreign feeling to a male whose reputation often goes before him. 

“We-we must be going” Eris felt unsure of the ounce of guilt he felt towards separating you from his pack, some sense of something wrong flooded him when they all ran back to his feet, leaving you alone on the other side of the clearing once again. You looked down with softer eyes to the dogs at his feet, no ounce of fear from them giving you comfort. 

“Don’t make a habit of feeding them all now” Eris smiled, bringing your eyes back to him.

“I thought she was stray, I didn’t know she was one of yours”

“They’re all mine, you say she belongs to Prythian but that is the very land that tried to eradicate the breed” You nodded lightly at his proud words. Silence returned to the clearing only to have Craos groan, receiving a knowing look from Eris. 

“She can come back when she is not working and when I say it is okay but, the bread rolls end” another groan from his eldest hound “No more bread rolls” he reiterated to her, gaining a laugh from you. 

“It's okay Petal, we’ll see” You smiled at her, the other dogs listening carefully and plotting their own access to baked goods. 

“Her name is Croas, it means blazing, a more fitting name than Petal I think” he laughed heartily, the action surprising even himself a little. 

“I’m going to stick with Petal, keep to your side sir” You returned the grin before dipping you head and evaporating into the very mist you built the wall from. 

-

Eris jogged through the vast Autumn woods, desperate to crush the headaches the Night Court were giving him like the leaves under his boots. The hounds sprang into their own exploration, all staying in close proximity except Craos, who had gone to visit you. Over the past month, she began to spend more and more time with you in Spring, even missing a few nights away from home to keep you company. It didn’t bother Eris as much as he had thought, the bread rolls had stopped and Craos seemed happy, he had no reason to take away another living thing's happiness. He never wanted to do that, to begin with, it just became part of his image, his unfortunate brand he couldn’t wait to shed once he assumed power from his father. 

Wartime plans swirled across his head, scenarios of defeat and success clogging his mind until he was snapped from focus by his suddenly wet shoes. He had once again jogged to the border of Spring and Autumn. This was the third time since first meeting you that his feet had taken him where his heart wanted to go and his head didn’t consent to. Unlike those times, however, he found you sat a little way up the stream by the river's edge. Eris watched Craos sprawled along your side, your hand drawing lazy circles on her stomach as you kept your focus on the book in the other. 

“No wonder Spring is falling, when the border guards take such leisure during their worktime” Eris called across to you, throwing his weight into the trunk of a sinking willow, hands tucked deep in his pockets. You looked up from your deep study with a slight jolt, Croas leaping instantly to defend you and sinking back once seeing the perpetrator. Eris never thought one of his hounds would defend anyone without his instruction and yet here Craos was, delighted to be at your service. You looked at Eris's sinking shoe before tilting your head slightly, the wall of water reappearing with the movement. 

“Threatened sweetheart?” Eris smirked, his hands now crossing against his chest in amusement as you stood. 

“Why would I be threatened by someone who’s going to slip?” Before Eris could question further, the sinking willow slipped free a root from the crumbling soil under Eris’s weight, his full balance being thrown back to land on an equally shaky bank. Your laugh echoed off the Spring trees at the sight of the much feared Son of Autumn helplessly falling into the shallow water, it soaking him to his skin instantly. Eris felt flushed with anger, it mixing violently with embarrassment but the sight of your head tilting back with put amusement took it from him as fast as the bank took his balance and he found himself smiling. 

“I don’t know how but you did that on purpose” He stood, a quick flash of flame drying him off as Craos crossed back to his side. 

“I can’t be blamed for you being clumsy” You chuckled, tucking your book back into your bag, Eris catching a glimpse of the cover. 

“I’ve read that, I didn’t think others would have?” 

“So unique and mysterious sir, not like other High Lords” You teased, your hands finding your hips as the other hounds joined the scene, seemingly groaning to demand their dinner. 

“Well, if you would let me cross this silly little water show, I could show you” You raised an eyebrow to his tone of possible flirtation. You blinked softly, a splash of water ejecting from the wall to soak Eris again as he recoiled. 

“I can be blamed for that, little water show” You laughed loudly, Eris wiping the water from his face until another flash of heat dried it away. He thought briefly about how he’d killed others for less and yet no desire to do that to you.

“Maybe another time then YN, I just came for our girl anyways, come Craos better get you home for your dinner” He smiled at the obedient pup. 

“She had a bread roll” You winked before dissolving away in the mist. 

—-----------------

Eris dragged his hands through his hair, his rings snagging slightly on his locks. The warmth of the study fire took away the chill from the perpetual Autumn but was unable to do the same to his sentiments about the Inner Circle. They kept him away from his home for the past three weeks and so kept him away from his encounters with you which had become more frequent in the three months since your first. Still, he stayed on one side of the watery wall, happy to exchange some stories with you across its shimmering surface. Craos was only too delighted that her newfound parents had seemed to cross the bridge between indifference to let's say tolerance. 

Eris stood from his desk, taking a violet-coloured book from the vast library before stalking around the grounds of his hidden home away from home, his hounds in tow except for the usual conscientious objector. The sinking sun reflected beautifully off the crisp leaves of this secluded cottage away from both Autumn and Night Court headaches. He sank down into a well-rotting deck chair, it creaking under his weight as he cracked the spine of the forgotten book you had reminded him of two months prior. It wasn’t long before the sound of heavy panting snapped Eris from the world on the tea-coloured pages. 

“Craos?” He called to the growing darkness, standing to his feet as the hound came bounding through the trees before barking frantically, stirring the other sleeping hounds. 

“What? What’s wrong?” A flame came to Eris’s hand instantly as Craos took the cuff of his trouser leg between her teeth and pulled to which he went willingly. She released her grip before dashing back in the direction she came from, only stopping to make sure Eris was still following. The group leapt over tree roots and mossy burrows, all quick on their pursuit of Craos and her frantic nature until the familiar flush of Spring air rushed at them. Eris’s eyes shot to your weakening body across the familiar river, your groans of pain reverberating off the trees as you fought to stand. Craos met your side quickly as you procured yourself up on one elbow, the mud and moss obscuring you slightly from Eris. 

“Hi Petal, it’s okay” You tried through tears to reassure her, taking your hand from your mangled leg to rub her reassuringly, your blood tinging her fur on contact. She yelped towards you before looking back to a pale Eris, you only notice him then. You tried your best to push from the ground, the screaming sound of metal on bone attempted to deafen your cries of pain. It became clear to him then, that the giant metal teeth of a trap designed to capture naga had found a new victim to lay claim to, its unforgiving mouth crushing through one of your ankles. Eris sank a foot into the river, your shaking hand instantly raising the wall of mist to block him. 

“YN, let me cross” He pleaded, failing to hide the desperation in his voice.

“I-I can’t, he’ll know-know I failed to keep the-the border and he-he might come for you for-for crossing” Your rattling breath only pushed Eris closer to the wall, it solidly pushing him back despite your growing weakness. 

“Let me deal with that overgrown badger, let me across, I need to help you” he continued to plea, his palms flat against the wall of water as the hounds cried out their own appeals. 

“What-what if he comes for-for Craos” You cried, attempting to sit up, your pain threshold quickly being pushed to the limit. 

“Then we’ll both kill him but you need to live for that, now please” His sterness finally had you giving in, the wall dropping with an uncharacteristically loud whoosh. Eris was quick to your side, his strong hands pried open the deathly grip held on your ankle as you cried out in almost deafening pain. The pressure released on your spraying arteries caused a new flood of blood to cover you both, the loss of blood pressure stealing colour from your face as well as energy. Eris took hold of the mangled joint, his hands gently heating. 

“You’re gonna hate me for this YN”

“N-nothing new there so” You half laughed through gritted teeth, it taking some semblance of worry from Eris before he began to to heat his hands to molten levels. You screeched from the feeling of healing flame, your arms instinctively wrapping around Eris's neck to bury your scream in his shoulder. The cauterising was the easy part, the fractured joints and bones not so much. With your arms gripping around him, he sank his hands beneath your legs to pull you up from the ground, the sudden upshoot and loss of blood causing you to lose consciousness immediately. 

-

The feeling of plush fur beneath your cheek was the first thing you noticed, then the smell of crisp cedar and smoke. Your eyes flittered open to the flickering of a well-established fire, Craos lying protectively up the length of your stomach on the oak-coloured leather couch. You rubbed her gently causing her to immediately react with large licks up your cheeks, the other dogs rushing to do the same. 

“Easy everyone” Eris laughed, a large mug in his hand as you sat up from the overwhelming affection. You looked down to see your mangled ankle no longer resembling a horror scene, a pristine white bandage replacing the crimson blood and torn muscle. 

“You’ll be okay, I had a healer here, you might be a bit sore” Eris spoke softly, watching you inspect the wrap before passing you the mug. 

“Thank-thank you” You looked back to him before taking a deep drink from the ceramic. 

“You didn’t even assume I poisoned that, we’ve made a lot of progress” He laughed, sinking into the chair across from you. 

“If you were going to kill me it would have been at the sight of the first bread roll” You chuckled, Croas’s ears perking up at the mention of her favourite snack. 

“Yes well, there's still time” Craos grumbled at her master's teasing, gaining another laugh from you. You looked around the small living room that had become your infirmary, noticing the vast collection of books, wooden figurines of great creatures and general Eris-ness about the place. The inspection made Eris shuffle slightly in his seat until you caught him watching you. You smiled back, swinging your legs to stand again, Craos moved from your side to the other end of the couch. 

“Careful walking YN, I had to threaten the life of a healer to fix that ankle” He smirked but the worry was still written across his amber eyes. You took one or two shaky steps before stopping, Eris fixating his eyes on every movement as Craos seemingly decided to take things into her own hands…or paws. She suddenly jumped from the couch, knocking into the back of your knees, sending your shaking legs from under you. Eris was quicker to react than you, taking hold of your outstretched arms and saving you from imprinting your face on the coffee table. 

“Saving you for the second time” He smiled down at you, allowing you to shift your weight for him to support you, his hands finding your waist to steady you. 

“Maybe I’ll return the favour sometime and not drown you” You laughed again, your hands taking hold of his shoulders for greater balance.

“I have a weird feeling YN that you could save me in another way” He cut off any questioning you might have, your lips meeting his with a delicatness you didn’t know any male could have let alone one of the most feared.  You were suddenly pulled away from him by the feeling of paws on your good foot. You both looked down to Craos who stood knowingly between you both, looking up with adoration at her two favourites fae, making you both laugh. 

“Good girl Croas, very very good girl” Eris beamed down at her before looking back at you again, his new found salvation.

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What do you think friends?

[holdmeclosertinytaron]

Escape to the Cotswolds. Chapter One

A/N: I can't believe that the time has finally come to share the first chapter of ETTC with you!! I first wrote this back in 2019 and randomly last week I decided to edit it and post it this festive season. I haven't told anybody anything about it, not even @tttttttaron and @brayndilyn who I tell everything about the fics I'm writing. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I've loved revisiting it. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: Explicit language, consumption of alcohol

ETTC chats. / FAQs

‘Amelia Bray?’ Spencer all but screeched from the dining room. 

The group in the foyer weren’t quite sure how he’d heard their hushed whispers, though they couldn’t be too surprised. They couldn’t remember how many times Spencer had mentioned Amelia and how much he fancied her. She was, in his own words, ‘well fit’, and he wasn’t afraid to let people know. 

He dropped the bottle of multipurpose cleaner and the washcloth he had been using onto the table in front of him before hurtling himself into the foyer, narrowly missing the low beam in the doorway. 

Autumn, the shift supervisor, stood with her back to him while Sada and Connor stood in front of her. Spencer hurried to join the circle of his friends, wiping his damp hands down his black jeans to remove the residue left from the cleaning products he’d been using all morning. 

‘She’s coming here?’ He breathed out, still trying to catch his breath from running. It didn’t matter that he’d played football for most of his life, Spencer still couldn’t run very far without being out of breath. ‘Like, to this bed and breakfast? To Rivercliffe? You’re not shitting me or anything?’ 

‘Spencer, for crying out loud, how many times do we have to tell you about swearing while you’re at work?’ Sada questioned. Her eyebrows were raised and she’d rested her hands on her hops. ‘But no, we aren’t ‘shitting’ you. She’s coming later today and you had better be on your best behaviour!’

She podded her index finger into his chest and watched as he put his hands up by his head in defeat. Out of all of the employees, Sada was always the most serious. Not in a way that made her mean and impossible to work with. Just in a way that she wanted everything to be done by the books and she wasn’t afraid to put somebody in their place if they were breaking the rules. Everyone loved her little stressy head and would often joke and tell her to take a chill pill, to which they would get slyly rodded by her middle finger. 

‘You’re trying to tell me,’ Spencer started again, ignoring the groans from those around him, ‘that I’m finally going to get to meet the Amelia Bray? And you’re picking up on my swearing at work? Fuck the fucking rules right now! Pretty Baby Bray is coming here, where we work, to stay. You know she was in the new Star Wars film? Went all the way to bloody Cheltenham to see it in the cinema and she did not disappoint! Her boobs looked good enough to-’ 

‘Spencer, I swear to the good Lord above that if you so much as begin to objectify her one more time I will fire you on the spot,’ Connor piped up somewhat harshly. He had spent far too many years listening to Spencer drone on about- and objectify- the girl in the films and he was way past the point of ignoring it.

‘You can’t fire me, Connor boy,’ Spencer jested as he reached forward and ruffled his friend’s hair. One of his favourite things to do was to try and get a rise out of Connor, loving to see the slightly older boy so frustrated that he started to shout.

‘I think you’ll find that my parents owning this place means that I can fire you if I so desire,’ Connor replied quickly while shoving Spencer’s hand away and cleaning his hair up again. ‘Now get your backside back into the dining room and clean like you’re getting paid to do.’ 

Spencer turned on his heel with a small whine and huff, letting his childish side appear. He tried to flutter his eyelashes at Autumn on his way past her in hopes that she would cave and give him all of the gossip that revolved around their apparent visitor. She didn’t budge though. All she did was life her eyebrows at him before he was sulking back into the dining room to finish his job. 

The groups separated quickly when one of the guests walked down the stairs with his wife and their bags ready to check out. Autumn rushed to get behind the desk while Sada ran upstairs to start cleaning their room. Connor walked into the back office to make sure that everything was sorted for the rest of the day. 

‘Mr and Mrs Jackson, how did you find your stay here with us?’ Autumn asked as she attempted to use the ridiculously old computer at the front desk. 

The computer had needed to be updated for years but Connor’s parents refused to do it because it would cost them money and the one that they had worked enough for jobs to get done reasonably. Even Connor had tried to reason with them into getting a new one but they wouldn’t do anything about it. In the end, everyone had simply resorted to smacking it when they needed to use it, hoping it would start quickly. 

‘It was just marvellous, thank you,’ Mrs Jackson said peacefully. ‘Is the fine gentlemen here this morning? The one with the soft smile and beautiful eyes?’ 

‘Oh, Taron?’ Autumn asked. 

She knew exactly who the older woman was talking about. He was a sight to look at and everybody knew it. He was charming too, always smiling and helping out wherever he could. Mrs Jackson nodded at Autumn with an expectant smile. 

‘He isn’t in just yet, I’m afraid,’ she said quietly. ‘His shift starts in a couple of hours so he won’t be anywhere near the place yet.’ 

The woman’s shoulders dropped in disappointment and Autumn couldn’t help but smile at herself. ‘That’s such a shame. He made the most delectable hot chocolate last night and I was hoping that he would tell me his secret,’ she chuckled quietly. 

Autumn was well aware of the hot chocolate Mrs Jackson was referring to as it had become a staple at the bed and breakfast on winter evenings. Though when he was making it, Taron wouldn’t let anybody in the kitchen because he didn’t want anybody to figure out his secret. Everyone had tried to sneak in at some point but he always caught them, shooing them off with an eye roll. 

‘Taron has been my friend since before I could talk and yet he still won’t let me in on his secret. He’s going to take it to the grave. However,’ she added, ‘I’m sure that if you saw him walking around the village on your way home you could easily butter him up to tell you.’ 

‘I’ll do just that.’ Mrs Jackson looked pleased with herself but Autumn didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was joking and Taron would never, ever, give out his hot chocolate recipe. No matter how amazingly charming they were. ‘I told Jimmy here that we’re going to have to come back in the summer months when we’re not bundled up in so many layers.’ 

Autumn nodded. It had been ridiculously cold that weekend and she’d had to wear a tank top underneath her t-shirt, as well as her favourite thick, woolly jumper. It didn’t help that the front door of the bed and breakfast opened continuously throughout the day, the cold air from outside making its way inside and wrapping itself around anybody in its way. The chance of snowfall was high and nobody in Rivercliffe was excited by that. 

The village pretty much went into lockdown when it snowed. The roads would be dangerous to drive on but the nearest supermarket was a 40-minute drive on a good day, and the shops in the village itself closed because they couldn’t get their shipments in. The only places that would still be open would be the bed and breakfast and the pub. Everyone would congregate in one of the small buildings in an attempt to stay warm with a group of other people. 

‘Oh yes, I highly recommend the end of May!’ Autumn offered when the screen she had been waiting to load finally did. ‘There are so many flowers blooming in the meadows and it gets warm enough that you don’t need to wear a coat when you go out. There’s just something so magical about it.’ 

‘We’ll definitely be coming back, then,’ Jimmy said through a smile. ‘Make sure you save us a room.’ 

‘Only for our best guests,’ Autumn laughed. When she finally managed to print the couple’s check out sheet, she got them to sign it before putting it to the side ready to file as she bid them farewell. 

As soon as the front door closed behind them, she took a deep breath and walked through the dining room towards the kitchen so she could get herself a warm drink. Spencer was leaning against the island with a steaming mug of coffee in his hands and a tea towel pushed into his pocket. It was typical Spencer behaviour, finishing his jobs as quickly as he could so that he had more time to do nothing with a cuppa. 

‘Her boobs looked good enough to what?’ Autumn challenged as she poured herself a mug of liquid hug, bringing it up to her lips and sighing contentedly at it. 

‘What now?’ Spencer asked as he turned to face his girlfriend. 

‘Amelia’s boobs. They looked good enough to what?’ 

‘Good enough to fuck,’ he replied nonchalantly. 

Autumn stared at him with a dagger of a stare, her bottom lip gently pulled between her teeth and her head tilted to the side. ‘You know, I get that she’s fit and all,’ she started, ‘but don’t forget that you’re mind. We’ve been together for years and you’ve known about her for less than one. That being said, if she came onto me, I wouldn’t say no.’ 

Spencer’s jaw dropped as Autumn winked at him cheekily, turning her attention to the pile of dishes that had been left unwashed in the sink. She groaned loudly before walking over to them and turning the taps on so that she could wash them herself, even though it wasn’t her job. 

‘I can’t lie to you, baby, I’ve never loved you as much as I love you right now.’ He bit his bottom lip into his mouth, watching the curve of Autumn’s butt as she stepped to her right to grab something from one of the shelves. Though when she turned around and the stare she gave him was blank, he knew he’d made a mistake with his word choice. 

‘Because of her? You love me more than you ever have, because of her?’ 

‘I meant like-’ 

‘That my appreciation for your celebrity crush made you love me even more?’ She cut him off, turning back to the sink. 

‘Baby, I’ve just told you that I love you more than I ever have before.’ Spencer tried to argue, walking up behind her and snaking his arms around her waist so that he could pull her into his front. ‘You’re telling me that if I told you I wouldn’t say no to, I don’t know, Harry Styles, you wouldn’t love me that tiniest bit more?’ 

‘Nope.’ 

‘Oh come on, are you actually mad at me? It was a joke.’ Spencer’s lips ghosted over Autumn’s neck, grazing her skin gently before planting a kiss. 

‘Am I hell,’ she chuckled. ‘I just love making you all needy and pouty when you’ve made me mad. Now can you stop cuddling me before we get sanctioned a-bloody-gain?’ 

****** 

It was obvious when Amelia had arrived at the bed and breakfast because Spencer stood behind the front desk with his best smile on his face. Autumn stood next to him with a similar smile on her face. They were ready to greet their guest and get her checked in. The check-in page of the computer was pre-loaded so that it didn’t take too long to get things sorted, and they had restocked the bowl of complementary truffles in case she wanted to take one, or the whole bowl. They didn’t mind either way. 

Amelia walked in with a bodyguard who carried her large suitcase with ease. Autumn tried not to make any noticeable facial expressions when she saw how inappropriately dressed for winter in the middle of the countryside Amelia was. The black jeans that adorned her legs appeared to be made from the thinnest denim ever and she wore a denim jacket with nothing but a simple, striped t-shirt underneath it. Out of everything she wore, including the pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head, it was the Vans on her feet that made Autumn question if she was equipped for weather in the Cotswolds during November. 

Alas, nobody said a word. Both out of fear and due to the fact that they were around a real-life celebrity. It was embarrassing, really, their inability to simply function in the presence of someone so well known by the rest of the world. They all knew that she was just a regular person like them, but there was something else there. Something so subtle that nobody would quite put their finger on it. 

‘Amelia, it’s lovely to have you staying here with us,’ Autumn offered happily when Amelia reached the desk. ‘I’m Autumn, this is Spencer, and we’ll be getting you checked in today.’ 

‘Thank you,’ Amelia whispered as she reached the desk, resting her forearm against it and taking the weight from her feet so that she could stretch her legs. Her stomach flipped with unease as the two people behind the desk stared at her with huge grins. They were clearly fans and she didn’t know if that made her feel good or not. 

‘We do apologise, but your room isn’t quite ready as of yet. It is just getting the last few bits cleaned but you’ll be able to head up in about fifteen minutes if that’s okay?’ Amelia nodded with a soft smile. ‘You can take a seat on the sofas if you’d like and then we’ll get someone to take you up when it’s ready. Again, I’m really sorry that it isn’t ready for you right now. 

‘It’s fine, thank you,’ Amelia uttered again before she turned to her bodyguard with slightly raised eyebrows. ‘Will, you get yourself off home already! I don’t want you hitting rush hour traffic getting back into Oxford.’ 

‘I can wait with you, Amelia. It’s really no big deal.’ 

Will spoke with a strong Scottish accent and Autumn couldn’t help but admire his beauty. He stood half a foot or so taller than Amelia and his chocolatey brown hair was quiffed at the top of his head messily. His eyes were an icy blue and they were captivating to look at. Even with his stern, straight face, he somehow managed to look perfectly lovely and approachable. 

It could have been the way that Amelia smiled at him or the way that he wore a simple white t-shirt with a black-denim shirt over the top, and a caramel coloured trench coat. Maybe it was the way that he spoke so gently even with his thick accent, or the way that he made sure to smile and nod his head at everyone else in the foyer when he entered. Whatever it was, it worked. 

‘Honestly, there’s no point in it taking you hours to get home. You might as well leave now and get back home in time for the boys’ football practice. I’ll be on my own for the next couple of weeks so what’s an extra fifteen minutes?’ 

‘I can’t really argue with you on that,’ Will chuckled, wheeling her suitcase to sit next to the sofa near the door. ‘I could even grab a pizza to take home as a surprise for them too. Though I should probably tell Sarah that I’m taking one so she doesn’t cook.’ 

Amelia nodded enthusiastically at him and watched as he stepped away from the suitcase that now sat under the window overlooking the front garden. 

‘That’s probably a good idea. Tell her I say hi, please. I must come and see you both in the new year. It’s been a while, and she always has the best gossip to share with me.’ 

Will breathed a nod. ‘She does indeed. I’m sure she’d love to see you. You know where I am if you need anything while you’re out here. Please, please, please, don’t feel scared to call me, whatever time it is, okay? I just want you to be okay.’ 

‘Thank you, Will. I’ll call you if I need you, I promise. Now get home to those boys before I boot you out of the door myself,’ she chuckled as Will threw his arms around her in a tight embrace which she happily allowed. 

‘See you in a few weeks, Bray.’ 

‘See you in a few weeks, Southend.’ 

Amelia watched him leave the door before she moved to look out of the window, watching as he climbed into his car and turned back to the bed and breakfast. She waved at him and watched him set off before she sat on the small sofa in the foyer and looked around the place properly. 

The ceiling was a light cream colour and was a lot lower than she had first thought. The beams that ran across it were dark brown and chipped in places, and they ran down the entire length of the building. All of the floor that she could see, minus the stairs, was dark wood. There was a long rug with a messy fringe in the foyer by the sofa. 

There was a single, low hanging chandelier in the centre of the foyer, something that Amelia deemed a little silly considering how low the ceilings were. It was warm and cosy and instantly made her feel like she had walked into a home. That was all she could ask for. She would be in Rivercliffe for six whole weeks before heading home to spend Christmas with her family. 

Everyone’s attention turned to the door when it flew open and a gust of wind circled around them. Though it wasn’t the door opening that caught Amelia’s full attention. It was the gorgeous man that walked through it. 

‘Jesus fucking Christ, anyone would think it was Antarctica with how cold it is out there,’ Taron muttered as he slammed the door shut again, peeling his gloves from his hands and stuffing them into one of his coat pockets. He lifted the black hat from his head and stuffed it into the other pocket before he tousled his hair back into place. 

He turned towards the foyer where all eyes were on him. Then he saw Amelia and his eyes grew big and his cheeks grew a shade darker. 

‘I’m-fuck- oh wow, okay ummmm…I’m sorry for swearing,’ he stuttered. ‘I’m…Taron. I’m Taron.’ 

He went to lift his arm so that he could shake Amelia’s hand but he could barely lift it with his thick jumper being under his already thick coat. It was a wonder he’d been able to take his hat off. Amelia chuckled lightly at the sight before her while Autumn and Spencer rolled around in fits of laughter behind the desk. 

‘Trust Taron to make an absolute fool of himself in front of a celebrity,’ Spencer choked out. 

Amelia and Taron turned to the couple, Taron with a ‘are you serious?’ look on his face and Amelia with her lips rolled into her mouth and an uncomfortable smile on her face all at the same time. Autumn put her hands on Spencer’s shoulders and shoved him into the dining room in hopes that he wouldn’t continue to make a fool out of himself in front of their new guest. 

‘I’m sorry about those two,’ Taron said as he finally managed to peel his coat from his body and hang it up on the coat rack that sat next to Amelia. She could feel how cold it was from where she sat. He smoothed the material down so that it wouldn’t get in her way before he pulled the bottom of his jumper down properly, re-offering his hand. 

‘I’m Taron, it’s nice to meet you.’ 

‘Amelia.’ She returned the gesture with a smile.

Taron was beautiful, and she couldn’t help but watch him. The way his lips moved so slowly as he was talking, his words rolling off his tongue at the same pace. The way his eyelids had an ever so slight sheen to them when he blinked, and the way that there was a little bit of stubble growing along his jawline. 

‘I was just going to make myself a cup of coffee before my shift starts but I don’t want to leave you out here on your own. Not that you aren’t capable of sitting on your own…that’s not what I’m trying to say. It’s just, um, for God’s sake…would you like a coffee?’ 

‘I wouldn’t mind a tea if you have any?’ Amelia asked. ‘Haven’t had a decent cuppa in what feels like months.’ 

‘We have some Yorkshire tea in the kitchen if that’s alright for you?’ He didn’t miss the way her eyes lit up as she smiled widely. 

‘That’s bloody perfect. Thank you, Taron.’ 

The way that his name rolled off her tongue so effortlessly left Taron swallowing thickly through his own smile. 

‘Milk and sugar?’ 

‘Two sugars and just a splash of milk, please. And I like it quite strong, if that’s okay?’ 

‘No problem,’ he nodded. ‘I’ll be right back.’ 

He scurried off to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee and a cup of tea for Amelia. When he pushed the door open, a little more forcefully than he had intended, Autumn and Spencer flung themselves away from one another and wiped at their mouths. 

‘You two are really disgusting,’ Taron commented around an eyeroll. ‘I need tea, and I need it now!’ 

‘Taron, dude, what the hell was that out there?’ Spencer guffawed as he walked up to Taron and patted him on the back. ‘You came in and just like…froze?’ 

All he got in response was a mere shrug. ‘I dunno. Who’s going to take this tea out to her because I sure as hell am not after whatever the hell that-’ he swung his arm to the left and gestured to the foyer ‘-was out there.’ 

Autumn shook her head with an eye roll but grabbed the hot mug of tea from Taron’s hands and walked it through to where Amelia was scrolling on her phone. She looked up, hopeful to see Taron again, and smiled despite the disappointment of not seeing him. 

‘Thank you,’ you spoke softly as she took the mug and lifted it to her lips so that she could take a long sip. It was hot but so desperately needed. ‘Do you know when my room will be ready at all? I didn’t think about the weather and my feet are bloody freezing but my socks are at the bottom of my case which is typical honestly.’ 

‘One second and I’ll find out for you.’ Amelia walked to the desk and grabbed her walkie talkie to buzz up to Sada who was cleaning the room. ‘Any idea when we’re going to have Amelia’s room ready, Sada?’ 

‘I’ve just finished it. Send Taron up with her for me? I need to move this wardrobe but I can’t do it myself.’ Sada’s voice was very static-y and loud through the speaker. Amelia hardly understood a word, but Autumn was already responding, telling Sada that she’d send Taron up. 

‘I’ll just go and grab Taron quickly and then you’ll be able to head up to your room. I really am sorry that it wasn’t ready when you got here.’ 

‘It’s honestly fine,’ Amelia smiled. ‘It’s been nice sitting here, to be honest.’ 

When Amelia was left on her own again, she turned to her left and was met with Taron’s coat. She had one very similar to it up north in her family home. A khaki green parka with a fluffy hood and tighter sleeves. Though she knew hers wouldn’t smell as good as Taron’s did. Even with a little distance between her and the coat, she could smell Taron’s cologne all over it. 

‘Taron, Sada needs you upstairs for a minute to help move a wardrobe or something,’ Autumn said as she walked into the kitchen. Taron nodded. ‘Oh, and you also need to take Amelia upstairs to her room for me on your way. She’s in room five. You know where the key is. Thanks, mate!’ 

‘You little…’

He let his words trail off as he forcefully pushed the kitchen door open enough for him to squeeze through. When he got close to the foyer where he knew Amelia would be waiting for him, he shook his shoulders and took a deep breath. He had already made an enormous fool out of himself and he didn’t want to further what he could only imagine to be a negative impression of himself. 

‘Amelia, if you’d like to follow me up to your room.’ 

She stood up quickly, pulling the handle of her suitcase up and walking towards Taron with it towing behind her. She stopped just behind him but regretted it as soon as he turned on his heel and almost knocked her backwards. Luckily she was able to grip the desk to stop herself from tumbling. Taron’s hands reached out to grab her to steady her and she caught a hint of his scent. He smelt heavenly. Kind of musky with a hint of sweet and freshness. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he said quickly when he knew that she was safely on her feet. ‘I should have made sure that you weren’t-’ 

‘Taron, it’s okay. Happens to the best of us.’ She smiled at him, wanting him to know that it really was okay. 

‘Well, I’m still sorry. Here, let me take your suitcase for you. You have the attic room so there’s a lot of stairs to get up.’ 

Amelia didn’t argue with him. Instead she pushed her suitcase towards him with her foot and watched as he pushed the handle down fully so that he could grab it by the handle at the side. He lifted it with ease and Amelia could just about make out the soft bulge of his bicep through the material of his brown jumper. But it was still baggy enough that she didn’t know just how prominent it was. 

Taron walked up the stairs two at a time and almost made it to the top of the first flight without tripping over his own feet. Almost. A mere three steps from the top his shoelace came undone and he tripped over it. He moved the suitcase as softly as he could onto the landing before his knees hit the step above him. He cried out in pain while Amelia stood still behind him. She didn’t know how to react, but she couldn’t stop the little snort of a chuckle no matter how hard she tried. 

‘I’m sorry,’ she laughed, ‘I know I shouldn’t find it funny and that I should be asking if you are okay…but that was kind of funny.’ 

‘Yeah, yeah. I’ll remember that for when you fall up these bloody things. It’ll happen, trust me. He knelt down slowly to fasten his shoes again before he moved so that there was enough room for Amelia to stand next to him. ‘Can we pretend this never happened?’ 

Amelia nodded through a smile as he stood himself back up and continued to walk to the next flight of stairs that he would have to walk up. Though instead of being too big for hit boots and trying to walk up them two at a time again, he walked up them one at a time. He didn’t miss Amelia giggling at him and he had to let himself admit that it was the cutest thing he had heard in a long time. 

‘Okay so this is you,’ he spoke as he stopped dead in front of the door that led to her room. He pulled out a metal key that was attached to a red plastic keyring. ‘This is your key. There’s tea and coffee in your room but if you need any extras let me know and I’ll bring you more.’ 

‘Thank you, Taron. Before you go to help Sada,’ Amelia started, lifting the handle of her suitcase again, ‘where do you suggest heading for tea tonight? I’m starving and could do with a proper good meal.’ 

Taron thought for a little while, going over all of the food places that would still be open before deciding on a couple of different options. ‘Okay so there is a small café that is open for tea and they serve fish and chips or small bits like sandwiches and quiche. But if you’re wanting a proper meal that’s warm and filling, I recommend the pub on Farm Lane. Their food is amazing.’ 

‘Pub tea!’ Amelia exclaimed happily. ‘I haven’t had that in so long so I think I’ll head there. Thank you, again. I really appreciate it.’ 

‘It’s no problem. I’ll see you later, Amelia.’ 

****** 

Taron was refreshing. He didn’t talk to Amelia like she was a celebrity. He talked to her as Amelia and it was a nice difference to what she was used to. Though what she stupidly didn’t think about was how everyone else in the village wasn’t Raron and to them she was just Pretty Baby Bray, as the media had nicknamed her. 

Walking through the village itself wasn’t the worst experience of her life. A few people stared at her as she walked past, and a few ran off to tell others, but it was a pleasant walk for the most part. Until she actually arrived at the pub. 

Rivercliffe Arms sat in the centre of the village and was the go-to place for socialising. Everyone over the age of 18 would go to the pub at least once a week, with the older men going more regularly to watch the football together on a couple of the TVs that were scattered around. It was loud and stunk of stale beer. The perfect recipe for a local pub, really. 

The outside of the pub was covered in green ivy with only small parts of the brown brick showing through. There were a couple of wooden picnic benches sitting outside the pub but due to the lack of warmth from the sun, they weren’t being occupied by anybody. Inside smelt like old cigarette smoke and normally Amelia would be disgusted by the scent and would turn away but there was something drawing her in. 

It wasn’t too full that evening. A few people leaned against the var while some of the larger tables were surrounded by families and groups of friends. There was chatter everywhere that Amelia turned and it reminded her of being home when she was a young girl. Some of her fondest memories were when she would go to the pub with her Grandad on a Sunday afternoon where he would buy her a glass of Diet Coke and a bag of crisps. They would sit and chat for hours before they headed home for bed. 

Her little adventure out of London was very much needed. After months of filming a new movie while also promoting her last movie, she’d started to burn out and was in dire need of a getaway. 

When Will first suggested that she take a break for a couple of months somewhere idyllic before heading straight back up to Manchester for Christmas, she thought he was being a complete idiot. But then she sat and really thought about it. She was unable to remember the last time she took a break and truly let herself relax. 

Whenever she finished shooting a movie, and before she set off on press, she would take herself away somewhere to relax but always wound up being stuck in a hotel room the entire trip so that people wouldn’t see where she was. 

Being in the Cotswolds was different, and she was beyond thankful to Will for suggesting somewhere so beautiful. So much so that she had sent him way too many thank you texts, including lots of GIFs and white heart emojis. Will told her that she really didn’t need to thank him. She just needed to enjoy herself and finally take the break that she deserved. 

‘You’re Amelia Bray, aren’t you?’ Amelia turned to her left to find an old lady with bright white hair staring back at her in awe. ‘It is you! My grandson just loves your films. I can’t wait to get home and tell him that I saw you.’ 

‘I’m so glad that he likes them,’ Amelia replied with a semi forced smile. All she wanted to do was sit in the corner out of the way and order herself toad in the hole, preferably with sprouts and plenty of gravy. ‘I should probably order myself some food but it was lovely meeting you.’ 

‘The pleasure is all mine.’ 

Amelia walked away and let out a huge breath, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone else in the pub. As much as she adored her fans, and as much as she knew that it was inevitable that she would meet some, that night she just wanted to eat a good meal and then get into bed and sleep. 

She let her hands rest on top of the bar as she leaned into it quickly to stretch her back but regretted her decision as soon as she felt the sticky substance of old spilled alcohol cover them. She pulled them away with a disgusted look, missing the way the boy behind the bar looked at her with a gentle smile. 

When she looked at him, he was holding a damp cloth in her direction so that she could wipe her hands and clean them. She took it gladly. 

‘Thank you. I’m Amelia.’ She held out her hand once she’d cleaned it for the handsome man to shake, her signature smile plastered on her face. 

‘I’m Kaine.’ He offered her a smile before taking the cloth back and moving to the tablet in front of him. ‘Can I get you anything to eat or drink tonight?’ 

‘I have a hankering for a toad in the hole. Hopefully with a side of sprouts and plenty of gravy?’ 

Kaine stayed quiet as he pressed a few buttons. When he looked back up, Amelia was already looking at him with hopeful eyes. ‘That’s perfectly fine. Can I get you a drink with that?’

‘A good ol’ Pinot Noir, please.’ 

‘Do you have any ID on you?’ Amelia looked at Kaine as if he had three heads. Surely he was fucking with her and didn’t actually want her ID, no matter how flattered she felt at the same time. She was nearing 30 and it was public knowledge that she was over the legal drinking age. ‘Sorry, it’s just protocol.; 

She nodded as she shook her head slightly, and pulled her driving licence out of her purse to hand to Kaine. Just like the majority of the population, her driving licence photo wasn’t the best. It had been taken when she was still 16 so she looked a hell of a lot younger than she was and she hated it. Kaine let himself chuckle as she checked her date of birth before handing it back over with a nod of his head. 

‘That’ll be £11.58 altogether, please.’ 

Amelia nodded and pulled her bank card out of her purse once she’d put her licence back, tapping it on the card machine with a satisfied smile. As she put her purse back into her bag and zipped it up, Kaine poured her a glass of wine. It was bigger than it should have been for the price she paid but she was somewhat used to getting more than she paid for. 

‘Take this and sit wherever, I’ll bring your food over when it’s ready.’ 

‘Thank you.’ 

******

A delicious plate of food, two bottles of wine and three fan encounters later, Amelia sat at the bar chatting to Kaine about everything Rivercliffe. She made sure to ask about the nearest supermarket and how long it would take her to walk there should she be brave enough. She asked about the best places to go for food other than the pub, and if there were any nice coffee shops around. And she asked about any winter and Christmas traditions the village had. 

Kaine had been more than accommodation to her constant, drunk chatter, telling her about the Tesco which was a 40-minute drive away so well over an hour walk, the café on Cart Lane and the coffee shop on Tilbridge Street. He also informed her of the traditions that the village had, such as the Christmas light switch on where everyone gathered near the bed and breakfast for free hot chocolate, carols and the lights. 

‘When do the lights get turned on?’ Amelia asked as she tilted her wine glass back to drink more of the red. Her lips were stained maroon by that point. 

‘The 1st of December. It’ll be packed in here by 4pm and we’ll sell more jacket potatoes than you would think possible. And then everyone will head down to the B&B for six.’ Kaine wiped down the bar before moving Amelia’s then empty wine glass so that it could be washed. ‘It’s always so special and there’s just this incredibly magical feeling that surrounds us all as we stand together.’ 

‘I can’t wait.’ 

‘You’ll be here for it?’ Kaine asked in surprise. Amelia nodded with a big smile. ‘That’s amazing. Make sure you wrap up warm, it’ll be bloody freezing.’ 

Amelia chuckled and pulled the sleeves of her jacket over her hands and bounced her leg a few times. She had some idea of how cold it would be before she set off on her little holiday, but she hadn’t realised just how cold it would be. Her denim jacket was nowhere near thick enough to keep her warm in the bitter chill outside. When she had the effort she would have to walk to Tesco to buy herself a winter coat. 

‘It already is bloody freezing,’ she mumbled in defeat. 

‘It’ll only get colder,’ Kaine continued, putting the final glasses away before sighing happily. ‘Longest shift of my life.’ 

‘Oh, I’m sorry. If I’d have known I wouldn’t have kept you chatting for so long. I feel so silly,’ Amelia rushed out. The alcohol had well and truly started to take effect and she could feel her head starting to spin. 

‘Don’t be silly, it’s okay! It was nice to have the company while cleaning up, in all honesty.’ Kaine grabbed his coat from the rack that just sat behind the bar before turning back to Amelia with a genuine smile. ‘Would you like me to walk you back to wherever you’re staying?’ 

‘I’m staying at the B&B but it’s okay. I can walk on my own,’ Amelia said softly as she stood up from the stool. She almost toppled over from the alcohol that was surging through her bloodstream but caught herself on the bar. 

‘That’s on my way back. And I am not letting you walk on your own when you can hardly stand up straight. Come on, it’s no big deal.’ 

Kaine stood next to her and let her link her arms around his so that she could stay upright. ‘Thank you.’ 

****** 

As Amelia and Kaine walked up to the B&B, Taron had walked out of the front door wrapped in his coat and a scarf that he hadn’t been wearing earlier in the day. He saw the pair walking towards him and his stomach dropped instantly. Amelia had her arms wrapped around Kaine’s arm and she was laughing at something he had said. KAine had his hands in his pocket and kept turning to look at Amelia with a large smile. 

Taron should have known, really, that he would never get a look in with Amelia. He never got a look in with anybody. 

‘Taron!’ Amelia shouted from the bottom of the path, letting go of Kaine and staggering towards him. ‘Can you take me to bed? Let me fall up the stairs like you did earlier. That was funny.’ 

She threw her arms around Taron’s body and rested her chin on his chest as she looked up at him. He was gorgeous, his greeny blue eyes dazzling and his lips the perfect shade. If she were to tell the truth, she’d never seen a man just as beautiful as Taron. He was broad, too, her arms barely fit around his body with his coat on, and she wondered what it would be like to have his arms wrapped around her. 

‘I can’t take you to be, love, but I can take you to your room?’ Taron spoke down to her gently, watching the way that her eyelashes fluttered against the tops of her eyelids delicately. 

‘Love?’ Amelia asked quietly, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and smiling to herself. ‘I love it. Love. Taron called me love.’ 

Taron turned to Kaine and nodded a greeting. ‘Thanks for bringing her back, man.’ 

‘No problem. See you around, Amelia.’ 

‘Bye Kainey boy. Thank you for the wiiiiiiine!’ Her words were slurred but she continued to talk. ‘To the bedroom.’ she shouted as she pointed to the bed and breakfast, charging forward to the front door where she yanked it open and made her way through the foyer towards the first flight of stairs. 

Taron followed her the entire way up, trying not to look straight forward where he would get an eyeful of her butt. She fell twice, and both times she turned to Taron with a giggle, to which he shook his head at her with a smile. 

‘Oooh there’s something at the door!’ Amelia whispered as she bent down to pick up the green box that had been left with a note. 

Taron’s stomach dropped as he watched her unfold the note. He watched her eyes travel over the paper a few times, her eyes closing every few seconds as she tried to refocus them. Pure dread washed over him as she finally looked back at him and blinked slowly. 

‘Thank you, Taron,’ she whispered with a smile, eyeing the box of Yorkshire tea once more with a large grin. ‘Hey, what do you say about coming in and having a bit of fun? Let me thank you properly for the tea.’ 

Taron could feel himself resisting the urge to take a single step forward to pull her into him, moulding their lips together in what he could only imagine would be the best kiss of his entire life. But he would feel himself pushing himself backwards. Amelia wasn’t sober. She didn’t know what she was saying and he would not take advantage of her. 

‘Another time?’

‘Promise?’ Amelia asked sweetly, only slightly disheartened that Taron didn’t want to go back to her room with her. Even though she was wildly intoxicated, she knew what she wanted. 

‘Promise,’ he replied before kissing her cheek gently and walking down the stairs and out of the building. 

He had to give himself a few minute before setting back off home, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. The more he looked at Amelia, the more he came to appreciate her true beauty. Everything about her drew him in. Her eyes that he could get lost in; her smile that left him weak at the knees; her voice that made him dizzy. Everything. She was perfect, but she would never be his. 

With one last deep breath, Taron pushed himself off of the front door and down the path towards the village. He shoved his hands in his pockets and absentmindedly kicked at a rock on the ground, following it where it travelled before kicking it again. When the rock rolled into the middle of the road, he left it and walked the final few metres to his house.

Taglist:

[heleentje]

💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

(Sending on = optional.)

Oooh, it’s going to be really predictable if I talk about Moonlight, but I’m still going to talk about Moonlight. I cannot properly put into words how happy I am with the way it turned out (but let’s try anyway).

(Cut for spoilers and, in true Moonlight fashion, also length)

I’ve told this story here and there, but Moonlight originally came from three things: my refusal to accept the Champions’ deaths, my general melancholy upon defeating Ganon and leaving behind the freedom of botw’s Hyrule, and my amusement when the game resets to your last save upon beating the story.

That last part got me thinking about how terrifying it would be for Link to wake up after beating the Calamity and finding himself having to face it again. Originally Moonlight was just a few drabbles in my notebook (the scene in chapter 5 where Link seeks out Revali was actually a later reworking of one of the very first scenes I wrote for it). The story was on the backburner for several months, but all of a sudden I decided I wanted to write it anyway.

The idea that Zelda was also caught in the loops was an early one, but it was not part of the original outline. That little tidbit only came about when I’d already picked the title for the story, and so the whole song the title came from (Shalott, by Emilie Autumn) suddenly became weirdly prophetic (the full line that the title is part of is And there’s moonlight every single night/ as I’m locked in these towers).

Speaking of titles, the chapter titles are almost all from Vienna Teng songs, and picking them out was often a lot of fun! Thematically, I’d say the most important songs were Level Up and Enough To Go By. Enough To Go By provided the title for chapters 8 (If my love could keep you alive), 11 (praying you aren’t out of range), and also Ginneke’s This flooded sky, three parts of the overall story that are deeply connected when it comes to emotional beats. Chapter 11 is the logical consequence of the events that transpired in chapter 8, and this flooded sky of course takes place during chapter 11.

(If my love could keep you alive is also my proudest title achievement. It applies to just about every character in that chapter.)

Level Up, in turn, lent its lyrics to the final chapter (Day number one in the rest of forever, because it could never be anything else), but also chapter 5 (Dynamite the dam on the flow). Going back earlier, it was also the title inspiration for another fic of mine, Your own heart that matters. YOHTM was a large part of the foundation of that chapter, so it seemed only fitting.

It’s no secret that Moonlight got extremely out of hand, I’ve joked about it often enough. My original idea for the story truly was only 30k (final word count: > 170k). When my first chapter came in at 7k, I was still foolishly hopeful. The first chapter needed to do a lot of setup! Surely the next chapters would be shorter!

I think I was disabused of that notion partway through chapter 2.

But for all that it got out of hand, I am still very happy that it did. The intended cast was originally a lot smaller: Link and Zelda, with Revali having a marginally bigger role than the other Champions, and everyone who wasn’t one of those six only appearing towards the final chapter.

Fortunately for me and for the story, the characters did not agree with that.

And I am extremely happy that I got to give not only Link and Zelda, but also the Champions and even the successor Champions something like a distinct character arc. The most difficult characters in that regard were probably Daruk, Urbosa and Teba, because they generally have their shit together, so it’s not like they need any deep character conflict or development. But we adopted the adage of ‘stable, not static’ for them. They don’t need to change who they are as people, but that doesn’t mean they can’t have their own worries and concerns, and make decisions based on that.

(I think, in the end, Harth got a little more of an arc than Teba, especially since we set him up as an intentional mirror for Revali.)

Speaking of Daruk, there was a time where Ginneke and I feared that he’d be sidelined compared to the other Champions. And then chapter 8 happened and suddenly he became a big part of the story :D

So let me talk about Ginneke. (And yes love, I know you were the one to send me the ask, but let me gush about you anyway <3)

Moonlight wouldn’t be half of what it is today without her. We refined that very first outline through hours and hours of conversation and bouncing ideas off each other. She is almost single-handedly responsible for the role Purah ended up playing in this story, as well as Link being explicitly genderqueer and Yunobo’s entire plotline.

The latter two both found their origin in Carry Them Inside You, the first of the sidefics, so let me gush about those for a moment! They’re all explicitly canon to Moonlight, and while we tried to stay fairly light on the references in Moonlight proper, you will absolutely get the best reading experience if you read the sidefics alongside the main story!

Because Moonlight only has Link and Zelda as POV characters, the sidefics were our best way to show what went on when they weren’t around (or, in Carry Them Inside You’s case, what Link was doing that he didn’t want Zelda to know about). An attentive reader may have even caught a few reveals before they were shown in Moonlight proper: the Champions still being alive was all but stated in there’s no turning away, and a soft yellow moon gave more context to Mipha’s actions in chapter 9. Some of our biggest Revali knives were shown in This flooded sky before they made it into the main story (and one never made it into the main story at all, because Revali isn't talking).

(If you know Enough to go by, then the title of This flooded sky also carries a hint towards Revali’s final plan: I’m wanting your anger/ I only want to see if I can shake you out of sleep/ And bring you out under this flooded sky/ At any price)

And of course, Ginneke’s writing is absolutely spectacular in all of them!

Going forward, the POV will probably not remain limited to Link and Zelda alone. There’s a lot going on in Hyrule, and they definitely don’t know all of it.

I am extremely happy with how both of their stories came out. For Link in particular, I think I succeeded in creating the same sense of isolation that’s characteristic of early botw, before you really set out into the world. We debated heavily whether we wanted the first four loops to be so repetitive, but I’m glad we did in the end, because it really worsened Link’s state of mind and set up the events of loop 5 and onwards.

And by that same token, I’m glad that the world expanded after that, first with Revali and then the other Champions, and then the rest of Hyrule as well. Despite the somber tone of it, chapter 11 was one of my favorite chapters to write, because I finally got to put the rest of Hyrule front and center.

(And also because it’s where any chance of Zelda and Revali ever having a cordial relationship gets killed deader than the leviathans. Zelda and Revali each consider themselves responsible for Link’s death, and they are projecting that guilt onto each other.)

Zelda and Link’s relationship was another favorite part of mine. Sometimes I reread the earlier chapters and I’m struck by how distant they were, compared to their closeness in the final chapters. They really didn’t know how to act around each other, especially since Link had lost most of his memories and their relationship was always a bit fraught to begin with. But I’m glad they evolved past that.

And I’m firmly of the opinion that Link would always chafe at being confined to a formalized court environment again. He feared that possibility from the very start (and it was part of the reason why he put off fighting Ganon for so long), so it was very liberating when he finally got to say outright ‘no, I don’t want that’, and still find a way to support Zelda, if only from a distance.

And Revali, oh Revali… In early chapters, we often joked about Revali and Purah fighting for the tritagonist position. And while Purah eventually got the title when it came to plot developments, Revali definitely earned it for character developments.

He’s a mess of contradictions. He doesn’t want to move on, but he’s ready to sacrifice his life so that Link doesn’t lose his. He longs to be a part of Rito Village again, but he’s convinced that the Rito will either disdain him for failing to take down the Calamity or only see him for his title. He feels so much guilt about failing to save Link that he takes all of it out on Zelda. It should come as no surprise that his scenes were among my absolute favorites to write, even if they were often very difficult to get right and needed multiple rewrites to hit on the correct tone.

Mipha probably got the second-biggest role out of all the Champions. When she regained her Grace in chapter 8, we realized she would remember that loop according to the rules we’d established. And that made her a perfect person to both serve as a voice of reason to stop Zelda and Revali before things really got too bad, and also call out Link on some of his shit later on.

Daruk quickly became one of my favorite characters to write (best Champion). He was unceasingly supportive, even when Link didn’t particularly want to hear that, but Yunobo being so intimidated by him was always something that weighed on him, and he tried very hard to present himself as unthreathening. Perhaps he even went a little overboard there, but he genuinely is extremely proud of Yunobo and would have been no matter what Yunobo chose to do.

In the end, it was Urbosa who probably had the least involved plotline of all the Champions, but having her around was still a massive boon for Zelda, and eventually Riju. One of the things we really wanted to make clear was that Urbosa was not here to take the title of Chief back from Riju. If Riju asked her to, she might have accepted, but it needed to be very clear that she did not outrank Riju, nor did she want to. (And if Urbosa sees a lot of Zelda in Riju, well, obviously.)

I’d also be remiss in not mentioning some of the other characters: Purah, our plot tritagonist, who was instrumental in figuring out exactly what was going on and providing Link and Zelda with some much needed help in those first few loops. Riju, who among all the time shenanigans is one of the few people concerned with the political implications of a Hyrule without the Calamity, who is such a perfect mirror of Zelda: forced to bear a burden that by all rights should have been her mother. Sidon, so concerned for Link, so eager to fight by his side that he’s the one who finally hands Zelda the solution to their problem, so willing to defy his father (and Dorephan, still mourning the child he already lost and terrified that he’ll lose yet another one). And Yunobo, always casting himself in the shadow of his famed grandparent, but so much braver and smarter than he gives himself credit for, who probably did more to turn the tide in the final battle than any other character.

(Also Teba, who is in a constant state of ‘what are all these fucking children doing here?’)

Okay, so I’ve spent almost 2000 words talking about Moonlight already, and I can probably get in another 1000 if I really wanted to. But suffice to say, I’m extremely happy with how that story came out. It’s probably the best thing I’ve written to date, and I think I pulled off just about everything I set out to do.

Of course, absolutely none of that would have been possible without Ginneke, who helped refine this vague idea of a story into something actually worth reading. It was an absolutely wild ride, and while writer’s block hit me hard at several points, I’m really glad we got to the end of it.

There’s more to this universe, though it will probably involve a lot less time shenanigans! I think I’m quite solidly done with those for a little while.

[pluck-heartstrings]

Oooh this looks fun, thanks for the tag! This is especially well timed since I can’t draw until tomorrow when I get my stylus back from its impromptu adventure.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

technically I have three but one of them is super super old and I’ve been debating abandoning it forever since it’s just…there. I only seriously started writing last year and anything before that I wouldn’t recommend reading.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Close to 300k with just two fics! And going up every Friday :3

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Transformers and FNAF-DCA. What can I say? I like robots.

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I respond once the fic has ended; since I post once a week I read the comments religiously, but I’m too susceptible to giving away spoilers accidentally if I respond to comments. I love comments but I have to hold myself back lest I give too much away. Then I get an extra special treat of responding once the story is done and I can thank everyone personally.

5. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No and I’m thankful that’s the case. The DCA fandom is literally so nice and I’m really glad we all look out for each other.

6. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I work pretty closely with my beta, which is why she appears as a co-writer in both my long fics. I do the writing but she literally has to edit every week on top of her day job and I literally don’t feel comfortable posting without her help. Whenever I get stuck in a plot problem she’s always there to talk with me and help me through it so that the story stays interesting for both the readers and me. She’s the best.

7. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

That’s a tricky question! I’ve been reading fanfiction forever and I tend to go through ‘seasons’ of ships/fandoms I tend to read from. Winter is for robots, summer is for fantasy, autumn is for the spookies and spring doesn’t exist in Canada so it basically doesn’t count. I have a fav pairing per fandom and it’s really whatever strikes my fancy at the time. Right now (even though it’s summer) I’m still big in DCA x Reader mode, but I’m loving the various mer aus and other fantasy esque aus.

8. What are your writing strengths?

This is really difficult for me to determine! Whenever I get stuck in a certain scene, I fall back on the five senses to try and describe the scene as best I can like the reader is actually there. I’m a very visual person and it helps to add various types of description to help make the scene more authentic.

9. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. God, dialogue is so hard. Because I know what’s happening in the scene it’s hard for me to write the characters naturally without the flow seeming weird.

10. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Honestly I can’t remember. It might’ve been either Inuyasha or Soul Eater. My FFNET fics can still be found if one searched for them but I wrote those like…a billion years ago. They’re not good. I keep them there to remind myself how much I’ve improved since then. They’re bad, but they served a purpose.

This was so fun but I don’t think I’ll tag anyone this time around. I hope that’s ok.

Ten Questions for Writers

@mangogreent thanks for the tag!!

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

I started writing in 2022. As of right now, 4! Soon to be 5. I would maybe have more if I didn't lose steam halfway through!

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

My current WC is 49, 519. Hoping to get to at least 100k this year!!

3. what fandoms do you write for?

In the past I have written for the Dream SMP (unfortunately) and Sonic the Hedgehog. Right now though, I'm all about One Piece!! Let's hope that sticks with me, LOL

4. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Yes! I try to respond to as many as I can. Sometimes it gets daunting! I'm not entirely sure what to say when people ask for updates...

5. have you ever had a fic stolen?

No. Hopefully I never will.

6. have you ever co-written a fic before?

A REALLY long time ago me and my online friend loosely worked on a BNHA fic that I really wanted to see come to fruition, but we lost contact shortly after. It never got posted. Maybe one day I'll find it again...

7. what’s your all-time favourite ship?

ZoLu is my favorite, I've never quite seen a dynamic quite like theirs! I definitely enjoy it but I can also see them as just being platonic as well. One Piece is unique like that.

8. what are your writing strengths?

This one's a bit hard to answer, I think. For me personally I think I'm good at characterizing and coming up with interesting situations for the characters to figure out. I'll have to ask my friends sometime what they think.

9. what are your writing weaknesses?

This is also hard for me to answer - one man's trash is another's treasure! I would have to say I think I am not good at writing characters I don't have a lot of emotional attachment to/don't get much screen time, and while I have the idea I can never quite get it on paper in a way that makes sense.

10. first fandom you wrote for?

The first fandom I ever wrote for was TMNT!! 2012 specifically. I wonder if I'll ever get around to publishing it...

TAGGING:

@maofa @scribbyizback

[nctyhoney]

a helping hand (m)

Pairing: mark lee x fem!reader 

Genre: smut, fluff, office worker!mark, friends to lovers, office!au

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: oral sex (male receiving), car sex, dry humping, praise kink

Playlist:  pickled ginger - mac ayres, fill my holes - YESEO, wait for it - H.E.R.

Summary: You were used to workplace flirting. Everyone at some point would have a 'work bae'. Mark was different though, he was your intern. There were things you wanted to teach him, things he wanted to teach you and none of it had anything to do with work.

A/N: Mark in a suit is just too damn cute. This is my first fic on here so thank you for reading! There will be another part to this at some point.

————————————————————————— 

It’s just gone 8 am and you're on your morning commute to work. You have a car but the traffic in Seoul made it almost impossible to drive during rush hour. Your eyes still feel puffy from sleep, and you hope your mascara has masked their appearance somewhat. As you and a mass of other office workers spill out of the subway station, you're greeted by an autumnal wind. Although it felt mild for the time of year, you couldn't get used to the early morning darkness that the promise of winter brought.

In just 2 years, you'd progressed to head of the marketing team at Hyphen, Korea's biggest publishing house. You were proud to have landed a job at such a reputable company straight out of university, but with each pay rise came more responsibilities.

The elevator reached your floor, 39. Going through to the kitchen area, you put two iced Americano cans in the refrigerator. You weren't a fan of coffee but it got you through the day. As you were organising the refrigerator, you felt someone behind you and turned around quickly - it was your manager. He had a weird way of creeping up on his workers and you found him somewhat seedy. You always made sure to be polite to him, though.

"Morning manager Kim," you stand up, adjusting your pencil skirt slightly.

"Morning y/n! Here bright and early I see. Did you get my email last night?" He asks, his eyes flicking between your body and your face.

"Sorry, what email?" You ask, feeling slightly panicked.

"This year's interns start today. I sent it last night so you probably didn't get a chance to read it."

Crap. Interns. You didn't know if it was your imposter syndrome talking but something about being observed by interns made you feel underqualified. Perhaps you just got a bad batch of interns the first time around. You remembered Kyungsoo and Minhee from last year. Kyungsoo's uncle was CEO of Hyphen and he wouldn't let you forget it. He refused to work and you'd find him and Minhee coming back from their lunch breaks an hour late, often out of the unused stock cupboard.

"No sorry I didn't read it," you apologise, "when are they coming?"

"The receptionist said there are four downstairs waiting. They'll be up in a minute," manager Kim says checking his watch.

You nod, "How many will I be working with this year?"

"You'll each have one intern this year. You'll be working with Mark Lee, he's Canadian. A good kid. I think you'll like him."

Just then, the sound of the elevator reaching the 39th floor alerted you. Four of the interns shuffled out of the elevator.

"Welcome to Hyphen, I'm manager Kim, you might remember me from your interview," he said looking between his sheet with their faces and names and up at them.

"So we have Mark, Haechan, Jeno and Sooji. I hope you enjoy this year working in marketing. This is y/n, she's head of this department."

You exchange handshakes and bobs of the head, feeling relieved that these interns at least look shy rather than cocky rich kids.

"Mark you'll be giving y/n a helping hand this year. Y/n, I know you'll make him feel welcome. The rest of you, let's find the workers you'll be shadowing," manager Kim says before they're off out of the kitchen to one of the conference rooms.

Mark is staring at you from a distance, awkward and tense. His black hair falls into his eyes despite styling it neatly for work; he brushes it out of his eye nervously.

"Tea?" you ask him, grabbing your two favourite mugs out of the cupboard.

"Oh, yeah, please - if that's not too much trouble," Mark says hesitantly.

"Of course it's not. You can sit down, we don't start work for another 20 minutes."

He does as he's told, opting for one of the chairs closest to the kitchen worktop.

"Do you take sugar?" You call over to him.

"Two," he replies, fiddling slightly with his wristwatch. This boy is endearing you think, definitely an upgrade from arrogant Kyungsoo.

"How are you feeling about interning here?" You ask, stirring his tea, before coming to sit at the chair next to his.

He takes the mug, "Oh, thank you. I'm kinda nervous I'm not gonna lie, but thankful to be here."

You laugh, his casual tone is refreshing but he catches on and apologizes quickly.

"There's no need to apologize, you can be informal with me. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable," you say, catching his eye over the rim of your mug. He's blushing slightly, and you wonder why you are too.

♡

It's been 3 months since the interns came. December comes and with it is an endless rain.

In those 3 months, it didn't take long for you and Mark to grow close. Sure, he still had his occasional shy tendencies but you spent all your working hours together. Rather than a forced relationship between a senior and their junior, this was something you both saw as natural.

You're just not sure if the feelings you've developed are natural, too. His eyes hold onto yours for longer at company dinners, his hands linger at your waist when he reaches to get a file from the shelf in front of you. And it sets something off in you. You crave the contact. Mark Lee is driving you crazy.

You certainly weren't imagining these moments. You were used to workplace flirting. Everyone at some point would have a 'work bae'. Mark was different though, he was your intern. There were things you wanted to teach him, things he wanted to teach you and none of it had anything to do with work.

When you first started at Hyphen, Johnny used to be heavy on the flirting with you, and being from America, he was confident with it. He’d make you cups of hot, sweet tea each morning. He gave you those flirtatious touches on your arms while complimenting you, and he’d always make sure you got home safe after a company dinner. But he also had a long-term girlfriend and you knew nothing could come of it. Johnny still flirts with you, but that’s just him. And when you first began working at the company, you fell for it...almost. It happened a second time, with Jaehyun but then you learnt that these were just the ways of the office.

Today was a Friday, which meant your division would have drinks with the manager. You weren't keen on drinking, especially not with your manager but your coworkers made it bearable. And since the CEO was attending this week, the manager wouldn't be bothering you, Yerin and Mina for the entire night.

You lean over Mark, reading through the document on his laptop. He's edited the press release you wrote for a new book launch.

He shifts around in his seat. You can't tell if he's nervous about you reading his work or nervous about being sat underneath you. You hope it’s the latter option, though. 

"As expected from our Markie. You're really helping me by editing these documents, it's great - thanks," you smile, moving away slightly.

He's blushing a violent shade of pink and touching the back of his neck. He couldn't get any cuter.

"It's not fair that y/n gets such a helpful intern. Sooji left early when she promised to help with my reports, that's the second time this week," Mina huffs, folding her arms.

"It's compensation for the hell I went through with the interns last year," you laugh.

Johnny walks up to you and nudges you playfully.

"Nah it's not compensation. Y/n is just so hard-working, that's why they gave you the most hard-working intern," he says winking.

Mark looks between you and Johnny, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, thanks for that Johnny but that's definitely not true. Not the part about Mark not being hard-working...or me, I mean, I am hard-working, just not the most," you stutter, suddenly feeling foolish.

Luckily it hits 5 pm before anyone can dwell on your tongue-tied speech. You're all tidying away, turning off your monitors and getting ready for a night of drinking.

You catch eyes with Yerin and go to the bathroom to touch up your makeup.

You're reapplying a dab of lipstick and Yerin brushes her face lightly with powder. She stops for a moment, glancing at you.

"You don't still like Johnny do you?" Yerin asks.

"Johnny?! No way, I'm not going back there," you laugh.

"You seem nervous around him," Yerin points out.

"Come on Yerin, that was awkward. It's weird when someone hypes you up like that. It's bad enough being marketing lead now, it's like I'm expected to be some bigshot when I still feel like a uni student," you admit.

"Yeah, I understand, but you're totally capable. Could it be that you’re feeling shy around a handsome, new worker, I wonder?" Yerin winks.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've noticed that you've been spending a lot of time with Mark recently. I'm left to take lunch with Doyoung. I mean I'm not complaining but you know, Mark does look kinda smitten."

You look over at your friend and catch her looking back at you, expectantly.

"We have to look after our interns, Yerin. And it's not every day that you get such a hard-working one like Mark. Remember the hell I went through with Kyungsoo? Let's just say I'm relieved I've got a good worker."

"Right...so you don't think he's even a little bit cute?"  

Hell yes, you did. But you couldn't admit that, could you?

"He's cute but like, in a little bro way. He's too goofy for me to see him romantically," you bluff but you know Yerin can see right through you.

"He's an intern, what's the harm? As long as Kim doesn't find out," Yerin says.

"Yerin! You're talking nonsense."

"I've seen the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you," she laughs.

"The way he looks at me?" You blurt out, "The way I look at him? We're just good coworkers."

"Girl, you're such a bad liar."

♡

Yerin's words stay in your head for the entire night. Suddenly you're thinking about what Mark's lips would feel like against yours. Wondering what it would feel like for him to touch you, more than the light touches in the office. You've thought about it before, of course. But mostly while touching yourself in bed.

Mark is sat at the low table opposite you, Yerin and Mina at either side of you. Mark is laughing, taking a shot of soju as Johnny pats him on the back. He clearly can't handle his alcohol because he's giggling like a school kid and his face is already flushed. He looks stupidly cute and you realize how much you want to hold him, feel his flushed cheeks underneath your palms. But you peel your eyes away, tuning in to a conversation Yuta and Mina are having about Christmas holidays in Japan.

Manager Kim announces that him and the CEO will be moving to drink somewhere else, stumbling from the long table and telling you to enjoy your night. You all know where that 'somewhere else' is, but you don't bother questioning it. Corporate culture can be parasitic.

Even so, you're relieved that they've left, the atmosphere less stuffy now. Things feel playful and flirtatious. Jaemin is whispering in Jeno's ear and Jeno is laughing. Yerin's hand is dangerously placed on Doyoung's thigh. 

You can't snatch glances at Mark anymore because he's looking right at you, his eyes filled with something you haven't seen before..lust? Maybe your tipsiness is altering the situation but you like it.

“Shall we play truth or dare?” Lucas grins, clapping his hands.

“Let’s just do truths, we’re in public,” Jaehyun points out.

“I second that! But this stays between us, company oath,” Mina says, taking an empty soju bottle and spinning it on the table.

The bottle lands on Jungwoo first and Jaehyun and Mark nudge him on either side, laughing.

“Jungwoo! Who would you date out of everyone here?” Mina asks.

Jungwoo’s eyes are playful and he throws his head back laughing.

“You want me to be completely honest? I’d probably say Lucas,” he says without hesitating.

Everyone is laughing and teasing the pair, except for Mina who nudges Lucas in the ribs to stop him from smirking.

“Moving on, where is the riskiest place you’ve ever had sex?” Jaehyun asks, spinning the bottle as it lands on Mark. 

Mark rubs at his nose, looking at you momentarily. You pretend to focus on your soju shot but you’re listening carefully. 

“I mean…a car I guess?” Mark chuckles, he’s bright red now and you feel jealousy rising inside of you.

Why were you jealous? He wasn’t even your boyfriend.

Johnny is ruffling his hair but Mark looks up at you, looking slightly shifty. Maybe you understand how Mina feels now. You can’t look at him.

“Okay, moving on,” Mark says taking the bottle, “Do you like anyone here?”

It lands on Jaemin and he reclines back in his seat. He raises an eyebrow, “Sure, they like me too.”

Everyone laughs at that and Jeno just shakes his head cutely, everyone knowing they’re practically an item at this point.

“Who would you make out with right now if we were doing dares?” Jaemin asks.

The bottle lands on Johnny. It’s Mark’s turn to pat Johnny on the back now and Johnny just smiles to himself.

“Aren’t you gonna answer, Johnny?” Yuta laughs.

“I’d make out with y/n” Johnny shrugs.

There are collective gasps, and you can feel everyone’s eyes on you. That wasn’t what he was supposed to answer, surely? He had a girlfriend; he could’ve passed on the answer. You look up at Johnny and as if reading your thoughts, he shrugs.

“I had to answer,” he says, putting his hands up defensively.

You laugh then, typical Johnny.

There’s a playful glint in Mark’s eye. Was he that unaffected? You suddenly felt annoyed, foolish for feeling jealous about Mark’s confession.

“If you could have a threesome with two people here, who would they be?” Johnny asks.

It lands on Yerin then, who is already flushed with embarrassment at the question.

“Doyoung, and hmm..” she pauses looking around, “Probably y/n, because we’ve seen each other naked.”

“What?!” Mark, Lucas and Jaehyun say simultaneously. Mark just about chokes on his soju.

“Calm down Mark, looks like someone’s getting a bit turned on,” Yuta winks but Mark’s eyes are still wide, shocked by Yerin’s statement.

Yerin was your best friend, all best friends had seen each other naked. It was perfectly normal. At least it was for you two. 

“It’s a girl thing,” Yerin says simply, taking another shot.

“Oh! I have a good one,” Yuta says grabbing the bottle, “Have you masturbated thinking about anyone around this table?”

Of course it lands on you. To be honest, you had touched yourself thinking about 3 separate people at the table but no one needed to know that. Everyone’s silent and you don’t know where to look. You could lie, it would save your reputation but where would the fun be in that? You were all as tipsy as each other. So you reply with a small “yes” instead.

“Who was it?” Jaehyun asks. 

“I’m not gonna answer that,” you laugh.

You try not to blush but you can’t help it and cover your face with your hands momentarily.

“She’s thinking about them again!” Yerin nudges your shoulder.

You didn’t want to look, you didn’t want to see if Mark was staring at you so you take the bottle to ask the next question quickly.

“How many people have you slept with in total?” you ask, spinning again.

It lands on Doyoung, his eyes are wide and he looks confused, you can’t help but laugh at his cute expression.

Yerin is smirking, expectant.

“Hmm...maybe fifteen?” Doyoung says, tilting his head.

“Fifteen! No way,” Johnny laughs but Doyoung just nods.

“You said you wanted the truth.”

Yerin looks slightly pissed as she pours another shot of soju. It’s only when Doyoung whispers in her ear that her frown softens into a slight smile. She’s got it bad, you thought.

“Let’s stop the game now, I don’t want to hear all these details,” Mina says, side-eyeing Lucas.

 “Yeah I didn’t even get picked,” Haechan huffs, “Let’s just drink a bit more!”

"Hey," Yerin murmurs in your ear over the noise a few moments later, "I'm going home with Doyoung, I'll see you on Monday."

"You naughty girl! Have fun," you laugh. She blows you a flirtatious kiss as she leaves, her arm in Doyoung's.

It's gone midnight when you and your remaining coworkers spill out onto the street. 

"To the next bar, let's go!" Haechan shouts, stumbling as Johnny props him up.

"Dude, you've had way too much to drink. I'm getting you in a taxi," Johnny says. 

Sooji and Jaehyun also opt for getting taxis, following Johnny down the street.

"Are you coming y/n? Mark?" Jaehyun calls.

"I think I'm going to get some food first, I'll see you guys on Monday," you say before you realize. You're not even hungry.

"Yeah me too, see you later!" Mark waves.

You say your goodbyes, leaving you and Mark to walk the opposite way. Mark follows your step, but he's taking his tie off, undoing his top button because he's hot from drinking even though it's the middle of December. The sight of him makes your stomach flip.

"You don't think they'll suspect anything, about you coming home with me?" you ask suddenly.

Mark raises an eyebrow and looks at you, "Who said I'm coming home with you? I thought you wanted food."

"Yeah...yeah, just they might think something else."

Mark shrugs, "Do you care what they think?"

"No, and I guess everyone's fucking each other anyway," you say emphatically.  

"Exactly. Everyone in the office knows we're friends, let them think what they want," Mark says.

"I guess you're right."

"So where are we going?"

"McDonald's?" you ask.

"I don't really feel like food, to be honest," Mark chuckles.

You turn to Mark, "You're seriously just gonna watch me eat?"

He shrugs, "Why not?"

His eyes are glazed over and shiny from the alcohol, his lips formed into a little pout. It takes everything in you not to kiss him right there and then on the street. 

"You're so weird when you're drunk," you say instead, "Seriously, where do you want to go? If you're not going to eat, we might as well go home. I mean...you go to yours and I go to mine."

Mark pulls at his ear, thinking for a moment. But it doesn't really look like he's thinking, more like pretending to think. You can see the trace of a smirk hiding on his lips. This whole conversation feels weirdly contrived. You want him and you're pretty sure he feels the same way.

"I could come with you? Just, you know, to make sure you get home safe," Mark blurts out.

You can't take it anymore. You want Mark Lee so bad it hurts. "Right, okay...well, shall we go now?"

Mark nods and you haul a taxi, just as it starts raining.

♡

Mark is stood in your bedroom doorway, looking as awkward as when you first met him. Now you're not so sure if it was a good idea to invite him in.

"I'll sleep on the sofa if you want," he insists but both of you know it means nothing.

You laugh, "Mark, you can sleep in my bed, it's alright. You can sleep on the left side, I'll sleep on the right if you want."

He smiles in response but doesn't move.

"Seriously Mark, I'm not going to bite," you say patting at the bed.

He sits down gingerly then.

"Your apartment is decorated so nicely," he says looking around your room.

You can see the moon outside of your window, already on its descent for another night.

When you turn back to look at Mark, his eyes are on you. You don't know what to say, but you know what you want to do.

"Can I kiss you ?" he asks, confirming your thoughts. He looks down at your lips and back up to your eyes again.

You nod your head, you can't talk but it doesn't matter because Mark is already leaning in and then his lips are moving against yours. His lips taste faintly of soju, but you don't care. You want to taste him and you slide your tongue against his, suddenly feeling desperate. He takes the hint because you're both taking off each other's clothes then until you're both just in your underwear.

"Wait," Mark says, his hands faltering, "Do you think we should be doing this?"

It's dark, only a street lamp and the moon partially illuminating the room. The raindrops are highlighted and cling to the windowpane. You feel melancholic and you realize now more than ever that you want to be held by Mark. You can make out Mark's expression, a mix of flustered and horny rolled into one. You know he wants this too, this dorky, shy intern who was barely able to make eye contact with you is now in your bed.

"Why not? There's nothing wrong  with what we're doing."

That's all the confirmation he needs because he starts to plant kisses on your neck. You stroke his hair as he makes his way down to your boobs.

"You're so hot" he murmurs, taking off your bra.

He nuzzles his face into your chest, breathing heavily before taking one of your boobs in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around your nipple first and then sucks again. His tongue feels warm and wet against your skin. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and needy.

"God that feels so good -  keep doing that," you breathe.

He hums in response against your boob and you shiver. You want to keep hearing him, that voice that you've dreamt about for nights on end.

Mark lifts you to sit on his lap and you can feel his hardness pressing against you.You guide Mark's head back up to meet yours and you're both kissing again. You grind down on him, both knowing you need this. You want to feel him against you and you can't control it. Your movements are instinctual. Mark understands because he's bucking his hips up to meet yours, despite still having his boxers on. You can hear him grunt into the kiss.

"Do you have a condom?" you sigh.

"Shit, no."

You break apart briefly, Mark's eyes are hooded and his lips are swollen. You're almost certain that you look the same.

"It's okay," you say, getting off his lap to sit next to him.

"Wait - what are you doing then?" he asks, a trace of disappointment in his voice.

"What does it look like I'm doing," you say, pushing him lightly so he's lying down on the bed.

You pull off his trousers and he helps by kicking them at the ankles. He's eager now, his eyes hungry.

You pull down his boxers next until he's lying there, his beautiful, fully naked body exposed. You can see the shadowed contours of his lean body, the smoothness of his skin.

You kiss on his thighs, his skin is so soft and you hear his breath hitch as you do it. He's completely turned on now, you're satisfied knowing you've done this to him. So satisfied that you begin rubbing your clit in slow motions as your face hovers over Mark's crotch.

You take his dick with your free hand and pump it in your hand a couple of times. The tip is wet already and you kiss it, the precum on your lips. He whimpers then and you circle your clit quicker, feeling yourself growing wetter. As you lick Mark's tip, his hips raise to meet your mouth.

"I can't show my face when I'm like this," he murmurs, putting your bed pillow over his face.

"No, I want to see you," you say, climbing up to take the pillow.

Mark just turns his face to the side in response, too horny to argue.

You take him fully in your mouth, bobbing up and down slowly before finding a steady rhythm. He groans in time to your sucking motion.

"Fuck y/n, I'm gonna cum soon," he moans.

You hum against his dick, "You taste so good, Markie. Please cum for me."

He holds your head, pushing it down to reach his raised hips and you can feel yourself choking as his tip touches the back of your throat.

"I'm so...close,  fuck" he moans, thrusting into your mouth.

He whimpers and wriggles beneath you, before jerking violently in large strokes as he cums in your mouth.

You swallow it up, but continue sucking, feeling yourself reach your own climax.

"Shit," Mark hisses.

"Oh my god, Mark -" you cry as you orgasm, your center pulsating.

You come to lie next to Mark, kissing him, open-mouthed and hungry. He can taste himself on you and he likes it.

"You were so damn good at that, y/n," Mark whispers.

"You were so good," you mirror, taking his now sweaty cheek in your hand.

"But I didn't get to do anything," Mark mumbles, placing soft, small kisses on your face.

"I came too. It was so hot seeing you like that."

"No seriously - I wanna make you cum, like for real though," he murmurs into your hair.

"Mm?"

"I know you're sleepy now but would you let me some other time?" he says in the darkness.

Mark's dark hair is plastered to his forehead now. He's hot and flushed, it makes your heart want to burst.

"Do you want to see me again? Like...outside of work I mean," you ask, brushing the hair from his eyes to look at him.

He nods, "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Nothing, are you asking me out?" you giggle, pinching his cheek a little then.

He smiles and you know he's blushing.  

"I guess you could say that, yeah," he laughs.

"I'm free then," you say, giving him a small peck on his lips.

Mark pulls you in for a hug. It seems like he wants to say something, whisper to you but you find yourself drifting in and out of sleep quickly. The sound of rain mixes with Mark's rhythmic breathing and lulls you to sleep.

♡

Mark had told you to wait on a nearby street by Apgujeong station. So you're surprised when he pulls up in front of you in his car. It's an old model, just about affordable for a student but it suits him well.

"I never knew you had a car," you point out, climbing into the passenger seat.

"What can I say, I'm a man full of surprises," he winks, laughing because he knew that was as cheesy as it sounded.

"Is where we're going a surprise too?" you ask.

"It might be," he says tapping at the steering wheel with his thumb to the beat of the music. It's a Lucky Daye song.

"You look so pretty by the way," he says, rubbing his nose slightly. You can tell he does that when he's shy.

"You don't look bad yourself," you reply. That would be an understatement, Mark looks like a full course meal right now. Skimming your eyes over his casual clothes, you remember that this was the first time you were meeting Mark outside of work.

You feel good. Despite how cold the late morning feels, the low winter sun is shining, the sky a soft blue.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask when you eventually realize that you're leaving Seoul.

Mark just taps his nose and tells you it won't be a long journey.

And he's right, in the next half an hour, you're driving on Incheon bridge, next to a stretch of blue sea.

♡

It turns out that Mark brought you to Incheon to eat.

You're sat on the floor at a low table of a seafood restaurant. Both of you know how good Incheon seafood is. There's what seems like a hundred different side dishes on the table, and despite both being big eaters, you're not sure if you'll be able to clear even half of it.

"Have the spicy seafood stew, it's delicious," Mark says, pouring you a bowl and putting it in front of you.  

You take a mouthful and he's right, it is delicious. It’s warm and spicy, exactly what you need on a cold day. Mark is looking at you intently, his eyes shining like an eager puppy. He seems happy to see you enjoying your food and that warms your heart. You want to kiss him again.

“The stew is really good for a hangover too, it’s probably what you need,” he says, smiling. 

“Hangover? I’m not hungover, do I look it?” You say self-consciously. 

“No, no, I just meant we both drunk quite a lot last night,” he says, laughing nervously. 

You blush remembering last night and then your thoughts flick back to truth or dare, and how jealous you were. 

Mark must be thinking about it too. "Have you dated any of the guys at Hyphen?" he asks.

You just about choke on your stew, "No, why do you ask that?"

Mark shrugs, "I just wondered. They all speak really well of you, especially Johnny. And you're pretty, why wouldn't they want to date you?"

You laugh then, "Do they?"

Mark frowns a little, "You don't like Johnny, do you?"

"God no, we barely interact these days. No, I haven't dated any of them."

"Did you interact a lot before?" Mark asks.

"Me and Johnny? No, has Johnny said something?"

"Nah, apart from saying he’d date you last night. He just looks like he likes you," Mark says, rubbing his cheek.

You laugh a little then, "No, Johnny has a girlfriend and I wouldn't date him now even if he didn't have one."

Mark relaxes a little then.

"Is there a rule about dating coworkers then or do you just decide not to do it?"

"There's no rule, people just like to keep their personal and work lives private and often separate," you point out.

Mark thinks for a moment, toying with the noodles on his plate.

"What do you like to do, keep things private?" he asks.

"Private or public, I don't care, they can choose," you say quietly.

"Okay...that's good then," Mark says, smirking slightly.

He always has a roundabout way of saying things.

♡

It's 5 pm when the wintry sun sets in Incheon. You and Mark are walking along the beach. It's not perfect weather for it, since it's cold and you shiver in your coat but you're happy to be here with him.

"You need to dress warmer, y/n!" Mark says as he turns to you to retie your scarf properly.

He rubs his hands over your arms to warm you up.

"I'm okay - feel," you say, reaching your hand up to his cheek.

Mark searches your eyes and so it doesn't come as a surprise when he leans in and kisses you. His lips are warm and soft against yours and you feel as though you're melting. The kiss is a light, sweet one and you have to break apart because you feel giddy.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself," he says.

"No, I like it."

You look into the fading light and see figures at the busy part of the beach in the distance. It wouldn't matter if you were publicly affectionate, no one would care. But you know if you start kissing him again, you won't want to stop.

You hear the sea breeze and then the first rainfall before you see it. It's soft and gentle but you know if you stand here for much longer that you'll catch a cold.

"Shall I take you home?" Mark asks.

You nod, feeling dazed and slightly lightheaded.

As you get into the car, Mark puts his Spotify on. 'Wait for it' by H.E.R. is first to play.

You peer over at his phone screen, it reads 'sex playlist'.

"There's no way you have a sex playlist," you laugh, pushing his arm playfully.

"Nah, it's just random," Mark bluffs, rubbing his nose in the cute way that he did.

"Well, whoever created this playlist has good taste."

"Yeah, alright, it is mine. But it doesn't mean anything," he says.

You raise an eyebrow then.

"Why doesn't it mean anything?" you ask. You don't know why you're probing but you enjoy teasing Mark, hearing him search for words to form an acceptable answer.

Mark just shrugs though, "I just like this mood...being here with you, I like it. This playlist just represents the mood."

"You're so good at bullshitting, Mark," you laugh but Mark is looking at you seriously now.

I know you on the way, but now I want it I can't take it I'm merely tryna chill, but I'm impatient Stay on my mind Can't sleep at night

“I’m being for real though. Like yesterday, I didn’t tell you but it was the first time someone’s given me head before,” he says, playing with his hoodie drawstrings.  

“What? You’ve never had a blowjob before?” you ask, eyes wide.

“I’ve only dated one girl and she straight up didn’t want anything in her mouth so nah, it was the first time and it was amazing” Mark says. 

“Well there’s a first time for everything,” you smile, feeling happy that you got to share that moment with Mark. 

You look at each other in silence again. It’s a comfortable silence but it’s heavy with intent. You both know what’s coming. 

"Y/n, you know I'm not good with words," Mark says and then he pulls you to him so that you're kissing again.

The kiss is different this time, it's slow and intense as if you're something he craves. It's the type of kiss that expresses he needs you now. His lips on yours feel so good and you kiss him back, mirroring his eagerness. Your hands are in his hair and then he bites at your bottom lip. He's gentle but it drives you crazy. His hands are travelling into your bra now.

"Mark," you whisper against his lips, "Mark we're in public."

"It's crazy, I keep wanting to kiss you," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours.

"I want to kiss you too, all the time," you admit.

"No one's here to see and it's dark now anyway."

You look around and Mark is right, it is dark. The rain is lashing hard against the window now, the H.E.R. track barely audible. Your breath and body heat is already steaming up the windows of the car.

"Can I touch you? I want to touch you," Mark whispers, kissing your neck.

There's no use in trying to stop, you feel your willpower disintegrating by the second. There's a desperation in Mark's voice. He's wanted this for so long, and so have you.

Before long you're a tangle of arms and legs in the backseat. Someone might find you but that prospect turns you on more than you initially thought. Your stockings and panties are pulled off and your skirt is hitched up now.

Mark hovers over you.

"Can I touch you?" he murmurs, his half-lidded eyes flick over your body.

You try to close your legs, embarrassed about being observed like this. But Mark just parts your legs with a hand, "You're so beautiful. Can I?"

You nod, you're so wet and you want to feel Mark inside you, you've needed it for so long.

Mark finds your clit easily, rubbing at it slowly but it's enough to make you wriggle underneath him.

Mark leans down to kiss you hungrily. He slips his tongue into your mouth as he continues circling your clit, faster now. You moan into the kiss and Mark bites your lip gently again. That habit he had which drove you crazy.

He breaks the kiss, still touching you and looking at you intently.

"You're so wet, do you want me that bad?" Mark teases.

You bite your lip, bucking your hips up to meet his fingers.

Mark massages you in quick circular motions. You can only focus on the sensation now, coming closer to your orgasm. Nothing matters anymore, not Mark observing your body, not the possibility of being caught by someone, nothing at all.

"Mark, Mark - please," you moan.

"Mmm?" he asks, smirking slightly.

"I want you to fuck me," you murmur, suddenly losing all inhibitions.

"But we're in public," Mark's eyes widen and you realize he's teasing you.

"Please, please fuck me, Mark."

You've never seen Mark like this before, so in control of the situation and you feel disorientated because of it.

Mark takes a condom out of his pocket then and tears it open with his mouth.

He pulls his jeans and boxers down, rolling the condom over his length. As he touches himself to adjust the condom, he suddenly looks more like his nervous, boyish self. He concentrates when he's horny and you realize how cute it is.

"I need you now, please," you whisper, feeling increasingly needy.

Mark is so soft for you, you can tell by the sudden redness of his cheeks, the begging turns him on.

"Please, Mark," you mewl, scratching lightly at his left arm propping him up over you.

Mark positions the tip against your center and you whimper at the sudden contact.

"What would the others say if they saw us like this?" Mark says.

"I don't care," you whisper, feeling even more turned on by the thought. You're not doing anything inherently bad but Mark is still your intern. Why did bad things always feel so good?

Mark’s pupils are dilated as he leans over to kiss you again, and then he slips into you without warning. You feel yourself tighten around his dick and he feels it too because he's groaning.

"Oh my god, y/n, you feel so fucking good," he moans into your mouth.

“Better than the last person you fucked in here?” you murmur.

Mark is taken aback but he clearly likes the jealous tone. He bites his lip and nods “Much better, you’re so hot, y/n.”

Mark fucks you gently, moving inside you with slow movements. His breathing hitches and he closes his eyes momentarily. 

"Mark faster," you plead, your voice filled with innocence.

Mark puts a hand on your thigh and the other grabs at your boob as he starts thrusting into you harder.

"Mm fuck," you moan, feeling him hit your sweet spot.

"D-Do you like that?" Mark whispers and you can't even nod in response. You just know he feels so good.

“Who do you think of when you touch yourself?” Mark pants between groans. So he’s thinking two can play at that game. 

“Ah - it’s you, I think of you Mark,” you moan.

He licks his fingers before placing them on your clit and rubbing once more. The combination makes you a moaning mess and you can't think of anything but your approaching orgasm.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks.

“My god, Mark” is all you can manage. 

Mark's strokes get sloppy and he has to grip at your waist with one of his hands to keep steady. Your bodies are both damp with sweat, the leather seats of Mark's car underneath you are wet. You want to melt into Mark, you want to feel like this forever.

It doesn't take you long to orgasm. With a few more slow strokes and a rub of your clit, you pulsate around Mark's dick.

"Mark, I'm  - fuck" you moan, shuddering violently with every pulse.

"You feel so fucking good," Mark grunts and his praise is enough for you to tighten around him once more. He thrusts again, groaning in your ear before he empties himself into the condom. You feel his dick twitch inside of you and pull his neck down for another kiss.

It's sloppy and needy, your tongues against each others in desperation. When Mark breaks the kiss, he collapses on top of you breathing heavily. You both lie there, trying to catch your breath. Mark's dick is still inside of you though and you can feel the warmth of it and the now filled condom.

"Shouldn't we throw the condom out?" you whisper, stroking the back of his neck.

"I like this feeling, though. Can't we just stay like this for a while?" he says and you feel shy knowing he's still inside of you, that he likes the feeling of you.

"I don't think I can keep away from you," Mark whispers into your hair.

"Me neither," you say as he props his head up to look in your eyes.

"You know yesterday I asked if you cared if people at work knew about us - did you really mean that? That you don't care?" he asks, his eyes are wide like a puppy’s and you know you're too far gone, you want Mark to be yours.

"I don't care at all, Mark", you say, stroking his hair and then his cheek.

"I'm gonna pull out now," Mark chuckles, pulling himself out of you and taking the condom off.

He pulls his boxers and jeans up and you do the same, adjusting yourself into a sitting position.

Mark opens the car to dispose of the condom. Luckily it isn't as busy as you thought outside thanks to the uninviting winter cold and darkness.

As you both get back into the front seats, you look in the mirror, fixing your hair but not bothering with your makeup, which has sweated off completely.

Mark turns to look at you, "You look beautiful, y/n. Seriously."

"Anyway why did you ask me if I care or not?" you ask, trying to change the subject because you're blushing too hard now.

Mark drives away from the parking lot and back towards Incheon bridge.

His eyes are focused on the road but you know he's thinking of what to say next. 

"I was just wondering, well, if I can see you again tomorrow. For a proper date?" Mark asks.

"We did go on a proper date, Mark, we ate seafood and walked on the beach. I loved it," you say.

Mark bites at his lip. He looks nervous as if everything he's done with you so far has lead up to this moment.

"I can't lie, I really like you. Like to the point where I want to be around you all the time," Mark murmurs and his face is going bright red again.

Your stomach is fluttering from the sudden confession and you're can't look at his face anymore. You press for him to go on, though.

"Mmm?"

"Being able to talk about normal shit, do normal things, it's made me realize how much I enjoy spending time with you. I don't even want to drop you off tonight."

He clears his throat, "I think I've fallen for you, y/n. I know I sound stupid but you wanted to hear it. I like you and you don't have to accept it, we can go back to work and forget this ever happened, go back to norm-"

"Mark," you cut him off, "I like you too. I've liked you for ages, I just didn't want to be the first to admit it."

"Why?" Mark chuckles, his eyes wide. He looks genuinely taken aback.  

"You're my intern! Why would I confess first? That wouldn't be professional," you laugh.

"Well we're past professional now," Mark admits, "But if anyone asks, I can just say I've been giving you a helping hand." He winks then and you can’t believe how easily you’ve fallen for this dork.

As you drive across Incheon bridge back to Seoul, you look out of the window and see the same stretch of sea that you saw on the way there. Except this time, the sea is not a glittering blue, it's black, barely noticeable against the wintry evening sky. The passage of time in Mark's company comforted you, it reaffirmed how much you wanted to see each subtle change of the world with him.

"And to be honest, I don't care if anyone at work knows. It's better if they do know we like each other," Mark says quietly, reaching out a hand to stroke yours instinctually.

"Yeah, they've probably guessed already. I don't mind though, half of them are fucking anyway."

Mark laughs at your candidness. "For real though, the number of times I've seen Jaemin and Jeno come out of the unused toilet together is crazy."

"Don't forget Lucas and Mina in the stock cupboard," you point out, giggling.

"We're going to have to find our own spot before they're all taken up," Mark says, his tongue poking at his cheek. He was such a tease.

You could see the first few stars sprinkled across the sky through the car windscreen. The rain had cleared and it was one of those beautiful, chilly winter nights. Still, the stars made you feel solitary.

"I don't want to be alone tonight," you admit to Mark quietly. 

Mark nods "I'll stay. So the cinema and aquarium tomorrow, how does it sound?" 

"It sounds lovely," you smile.

You see the city skyline in the distance, nothing more than a cluster of twinkling dots. You're excited, the night is young and filled heavy with promise.

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

Wdym by the shu x reader x carla love triangle fic i need explanation

Okay so there's a whole story to this. Basically, years ago, I wrote how I thought some love triangle endings with the diaboys would go for a couple of friends and it inspired me to do one for Shin and Reiji which I then posted on this blog.

Flashforwards to, I think last Autumn, when I found this and was in a bit of a writing slump and thought hey, I should make an ask game where I get people to send in combinations of the boys and then I'll write how I think a love triangle route them would go. It'll be a great writing warm up, each one will barely take thirty minutes.

So I got some asks and was like great, let's get to work on the first one.

And you want to know what I did, dear anon? Did I spend thirty minutes writing some headcanons and then post them before merrily moving onto the next one which is what I should have done? No, for some reason, I decided to write in prose.

What was meant to be a quick headcanon post then turned into a nearly 4k fanfic and that is without the endings (the route is fully written and edited and the endings are fully planned, I just haven't gotten around to writing them.

So yeah that's the story of how the Shu x reader x Carla fanfic which I really really want to get done so I don't have to think about it anymore.

The worst part about this, however, is that I still have asks for that ask game that some lovely people sent to me in good faith and I just haven't answered them because I've spent so much time trying to get the first one done and I'm now terrified that as soon I try to write the next one, it'll spiral even more and I'll end up with another 10k monstrosity on my hands.

Anyway, now you might understand why the five line ask game became a thing because apparently I have no self control when it comes to fic writing.

I hope you have a good day anon!

[ladylynse]

what are your thoughts on scary/creepy danny? to me danny's never been good at scaring people beyond prank scares but gives off huge uncanny valley vibes once his powers settle because of things like being too cold, forgetting to breathe, dismissal and quick recovery from large injuries, moving too quietly and sharp teeth, I also like the idea that he can tap into his more ghostly side and press that part of people's brains that screams *get away from this thing it's dangerous* if he needs to.

I love the idea of it but have never written it. I admittedly never thought about Danny essentially weaponizing his ghostly side like in your last example, though. That’s a neat idea. So’s the uncanny valley feeling; that makes a lot of sense, and I love it. I just. Hmm.... What if I just....

-|-

EDIT: Now reworked and expanded on the AO3 as The Curious Case of Danny Fenton (FFN).

-|-

“What is up with that kid?” Wes whispered, loudly enough to be heard by the girl beside him but hopefully not by the kid in question. He hoped his nod in the appropriate direction was subtle enough, too.

The girl frowned and pointed at him with her nail file. “Why are you talking to me?” she asked.

Wes blinked.

The girl behind the first girl added, “Just avoid Fenton if you don’t want to be a loser like him.” The two of them laughed and walked off.

Fenton. That was Fenton, the kid with the crazy ghost hunting parents?

The kid in question glanced his way, and Wes looked away and tried to suppress a shudder. There was something about him, something…something…something wrong. Wes couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but he was going to find out.

XXX

In less than a week, Wes realized two very important things about Danny Fenton. One: Star’s assertion that Fenton was a loser was reinforced daily by the school bully. (Wes himself had enough athletic ability to stay off of Dash’s radar.) Two: Dash’s star quarterback status wasn’t the only reason the teachers turned a blind eye to the treatment.

Wes had seen Fenton picked up by his shirt and shoved into his locker more often than Mickey was into his, but the math nerd showed the treatment of it. He had bruises. Scratches. He still smiled, still had a cheerfully subservient attitude in the hopes that it would prevent further treatment, but he’d walk with a limp or eat only soup for a few days or stumble into class just before the bell with red marks crisscrossing his skin.

Fenton did not.

He’d be punched. Tripped. Kicked. All manner of ‘accidentally knocked into’ and ‘accidentally knocked down’. And it never showed. It wasn’t just that he didn’t bruise easily—or at all, as far as Wes could tell. He wasn’t favouring any limbs. He didn’t complain—at least in Wes’s hearing—of being sore. He didn’t act as if he were hurt. Ever.

No one else ever commented on this, so Wes kept his mouth shut and his eyes open.

That was why, months later, Wes saw something he was pretty sure no one else did.

Fenton was banned from handling glassware in chemistry, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t help Manson move some drama props for a prank or a protest or whatever he was up to, and Wes was coming out of the washroom after basketball practice when he saw Fenton drop some glass orb.

It broke, and Fenton cut himself when trying to clean it up. Wes heard the quiet crud muttered even as he stepped back to hover in the alcove by the washroom, and he peeked out just enough to see Fenton press some tissue into his hand and then pick up the glass.

When Wes walked by later, all he saw was a forgotten glimmer of glass and a trio of red splotches staining the floor.

The next day, Wes made a point of looking for it, but Fenton didn’t have so much as a band-aid on, and there was no sign of a telltale scab.

XXX

By their senior year, Wes had it all figured out. He’d long ago pointed out the truth—that Fenton was Phantom—but no one believed him, despite all the evidence he trotted out again and again. Worse still, Fenton didn’t even try to hide it around him anymore.

Wes always saw a flash of fangs when Danny’s smirk inevitably grew into a grin when he noticed Wes watching him, even when other people were around.

Entirely too often, Fenton would just appear, and even though others wrote it off as ‘not noticing the loser’s approach’, Wes knew it was so much more than that. And, okay, fine, it wasn’t always literally appearing out of nowhere, but no one should be able to walk that quietly over fallen autumn leaves. It just wasn’t natural, which was his (entirely ignored) point.

One time in gym class, Wes was the only one close enough to Fenton to hear the sickening crack when he slipped and fell on his arm and it bent the wrong way. Fenton never said anything about it, but he did favour it. For the rest of the day. The next day, it was business as usual for him.

No one thought it weird that Fenton didn’t dress for the winter weather. If he bothered with a coat over his T-shirt, it was never done up anymore. But they also didn’t find it weird that it was always cool around him, even in the heat of summer. Assuming anyone else acknowledged it, they’d blame the air conditioning or a sudden gust of nonexistent wind, as if that made any sense at all.

That permanent cold spot might be why no one seemed to think it weird that Fenton wasn’t ever warm to the touch, either. Not that Wes could bring that up without a lot of teasing for all the wrong reasons, but every time Wes had brushed by him, Fenton had been cold. Not just cool, not just chilly, cold. Cold enough to give Wes goosebumps.

It didn’t help that Fenton’s only redeeming quality in the eyes of the popular kids was that he could hold his breath for a long time. It had been discovered during one of Dash’s more questionable bouts of bullying, but it had earned Fenton some grudging respect. He hammed it up instead of brushing it off, and no one questioned the fact that he could hold his breath for five minutes, despite how insane that was, especially for kids their age with zero training.

No one noticed the fact that Fenton never took a giant gulp of air before doing that, either.

No one realized that he simply didn’t need to breathe, at least not as often as a normal human if he did.

There was just…. It wasn’t normal. None of it was normal. It drove Wes nuts, and no one else seemed to see any of it.

XXX

On their last day of high school, Wes managed to get Danny alone.

Well.

Sam and Tucker were hovering in the background, snickering, but it was as alone as they were going to get.

“C’mon, you have to own up to this,” Wes said, trying not to make it sound like the plea it was. “You just…. You can’t pretend none of this…. You can’t let everyone keep thinking I’m Phantom when you’re, y’know.”

Danny smiled, his teeth just a touch too long and just this side of too sharp. “Whaddaya mean?”

Instinct was telling Wes to get out of there, but he held his ground.

“You’re Phantom,” he said. “I know you’re Phantom. I’ve seen you change.”

Danger, shouted his mind as it reminded him of all possible exits. Run, thundered his heart, beating faster with each passing second. Get away, screamed his muscles, tensed and ready to spring.

He was standing there waiting for an answer, gulping in lungfuls of air, before he realized the unnerving feeling had entirely disappeared.

Danny was frowning. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His teeth looked normal. His face, his demeanour…. It all seemed perfectly normal.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” Wes hissed. “The…the glowing eyes, the freaky stuff you do, everything!”

Danny raised an eyebrow.

“Stop doing that! You know what I mean!”

“Phantom’s dead, Wes,” Danny said. “He was long dead before you ever moved here. No one seriously thinks you’re him.”

“So you admit you’re dead, then? Because you’re Phantom?”

Danny snorted. “Phantom’s a ghost,” he said. “Ghosts are dead. I do not need to have grown up with the parents I did to know that. Do I look dead to you?”

He really didn’t, not at that precise moment, but Wes growled out an affirmative anyway.

Danny shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said. “I can’t make you not believe your own crazy conspiracy theory. Have a good rest of your life, Wes.”

He started to walk away, his soft footsteps on the linoleum sounding loud to Wes’s ears.

“Hey, wait, I’m not done!” Wes yelled. He sprinted after Danny, easily catching up to him, and reached to grab his arm.

Wes watched his fingers pass right through Danny’s arm and backpack as Danny reached Sam and Tucker. Wes stared at his hand for a split second and then looked up to confront them with this obvious bit of proof, but the hallway was empty.

He couldn’t hear any footsteps leading away, nor any muffled laughter at his expense.

Wes stood entirely by himself, left with exactly as much concrete proof of the truth as he’d ever had.

Nothing.

(see more fics | buy me a coffee?)

[martialstories]

Tape to tape - Chap. 2

Coops - High School AU

All credits for the world & the characters for @lumosinlove. I’m kind of sad that SW is ending but luckily there’s still Coast to coast left and 12 days of ficmas isn’t far away.

I wrote this fic(of a fic) before the last chapter was out. In case someone hasn’t read it yet, I won’t tell any details but I have to admit that the ending was far better than I could have hoped for. I was literally jumping up and down after reading that❤️

Happy reading!

_______________________________________________________________________

Tw: child abuse (not direct but definitely implied)

In the three months that Sirius had known Remus they had gotten pretty close. Sirius had to admit that he enjoyed being with Remus but he was rather surprised that Remus seemed to also like his company. You see, Remus was one of those people who was rather popular with his peers. Remus had adjusted to the team quickly and found his place easily. Of course there were some people who didn’t like him but he didn’t care about them. Luckily Remus had found his place within the better people in Sirius’s opinion.

Sirius on the other hand couldn’t usually come along with people like him. Or rather people like him didn’t like Sirius’s closed off nature. Remus seemed to be an exception. They had spent a lot of time with each other in practice and school as they shared the same French class and usually paired together in training and he hadn’t (yet) gotten sick of him.

Autumn was finally starting to blend into winter with temperatures dropping and sun rising later each day. This also meant Sirius’s birthday was getting closer. He didn’t really enjoy his birthday as it didn’t come with any special occasion in his family. Somehow his parents seemed to be even more annoyed by him around his birthday which resulted in Sirius getting a few punches more than usually. Especially his father seemed to consume rather impressive amounts of alcohol around this time as well.

Previous years he hadn’t had anyone who genuinly wanted to wish him happy birthday and pay attention towards him. Of course his teammates wished him happy birthday but they didn’t really notice his sullen mood and certainly didn’t bug him about it.

”Sirius, are you sure you are okay? It’s just that you seem a little quieter today than you usually are.” Sirius was stretching in the gym with Remus. They had already figured this routine that worked well for them. They both liked to stay and stretch well before showering so why not do it together?

”Yes. I’m fine.” Sirius answer came out maybe a little harsh but on his defence he was tired and just wanted to get to his bed and sleep. This wasn’t the first time Remus had asked the question and somehow it was getting harder and harder not to lose his temper.

”Okay, I believe you. I was thinking, we could maybe do the run together that we are supposed to do over the weekend. Since your birthday is on Sunday maybe tomorrow?” Remus asked.

”I think you should go alone this weekend. I’m going to be pretty busy.” Sirius said while l lying on his back and stretching his thigh.

”Oh. That’s alright.” Remus sounded a little upset and they sat in silence for a few moments.

”Are you really fine Sirius? I mean you just seem-”

”YES! I am fine, Remus! Just stop asking. Please.” Sirius let out a shout. He closed his eyes and sighed little. What are you doing? He is just worried. Sirius rose from the ground and walked to the locker room for the showers. He hoped Remus would say something but the silence wasn’t broken.

One shower later Sirius packed up his gear and headed outside. After a quiet drive Sirius opened stepped inside his home. He tried to be as quiet as possible getting to his room but apparently he wasn’t quiet enough. He heard his father calling for him from his office. Sirius knew he had no choice as he slowly turned and headed for the office.

When Sirius gained his consciousness the first thing he registered was how much his head was pounding. The second thing was how his back ached. The third thing he registered was the bunch of little sniffs he was hearing. He felt how something tickled his nose.

Sirius opened his eyes to see a tiny black puppy with wet eyes on his bed with him. It was sniffing at him before it curled up next to his head. They looked at each other for a while before Sirius properly processed what he was seeing. He slowly raised his hand to pet the little ones head. The puppy let out a tiny whine and pushed against his hand.

After a few pets Sirius started to wonder how the puppy had gotten there. That startled him awake. He was sure that he had locked his door before he had passed out here.

He rushed to turn around to see the whole room and search for any danger. When he looked at the door it was still closed and locked. Wait. Can this puppy teleport or something?

In the soft glow of the desk lamp Sirius’s eyes landed on the boy sitting on his desk looking at him. He frowned. How did Remus get in here?

”If you are wondering how I got here, I climbed through your window. And no, no one saw me. It is already dark outside.” Remus said quietly.

Sirius coughed before answering. ”I see.”

Remus looked at Sirius face. Sirius knew that he propably looked bad. He could tell that he had at least a black eye and his lip was split. There might be other bruises but he wasn’t sure.

Remus got up from his place on the table and walked into Sirius’s bathroom. Sirius could hear the sink being turned on and a while later Remus emerged with a wet cloth in his hand. He sat next to Sirius, scooped up the puppy from his side and dumped it onto Sirius’s lap.

”It wants attention. Can you pet her?” Remus asked as he raised the cloth to wipe at Sirius’s lip. Sirius’s breath hitched at the contact but he still started to pet the little puppy on his lap.

They stayed quiet while Remus cleaned his face from blood. After he was done he got up to take the cloth back to the bathroom. Sirius concentrated on the puppy and holding it close.

”You don’t have to talk about it. You don’t have to lie to me, but remember that I am here.” Remus said quietly when he came back. Sirius lifted his gaze from the floor to see Remus looking at him.

”I- umm…” Sirius hadn’t talked about this before with anyone. He trusted Remus with his whole heart but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to bear Remus with the knowledge of it.

”I’m not sure if I can.” Sirius’s voice was shaky when he spoke.

Remus nodded understanding. ”You don’t have to. But if you change your mind I’ll be here. Always.”

”Thank you Remus.” Sirius scooted to lay against the wall with the puppy on his lap. It had gotten comfortable to Sirius’s presence by now so it was play-attacking his hand and whipping its tale around uncontrollably. He felt the bed dip with Remus weight as he got up to retrieve something from his jacket’s pocket.

While Remus wasn’t looking at him, Sirius let himself tear up a bit. He finally felt like the universe was paying back for all the shit it had given him over the years. He had finally found someone who cared about him, and who Sirius cared for as well. He hadn’t known this was something he needed but now that he had it he didn’t know how he had survived without it. Now he couldn’t help but dream about more.

Sirius quickly wiped his eyes as Remus sat next to him. He took the puppy from him but exchanged it with a little present.

Sirius’s eyes shot up. ”Happy birthday Sirius.” Remus said with a small smile.

”Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything.” Sirius answered little unsure of how to handle this situation. He hadn’t received gifts in years.

”I know but I wanted to. Now, go on. Open it.” Remus assured Sirius while holding eye contact.

Sirius whispered an okay and proceeded to carefully unwrap the present. He let out a wet laugh when he saw that the wrapping paper was hockey themed.

Inside the wrapping paper Sirius discovered three chocolate bars. One was regular, other one was dark chocolate and the third one was filled with mint chips. Sirius was tearing up again.

”I wasn’t sure what you liked but I thought, how wrong can I go with chocolate?” Remus laughed a little worried as Sirius didn’t say anything. ”These are from my favourite brand. If you like these, we’ll have to try their special winter edition. They change the formula every year, you know. I heard rumours that this year they’d do one with gingerbread.” Remus started rambling as Sirius still just stared at the chocolates.

”I- Thank you, Remus. This is the best present I have ever gotten.” Sirius glanced at Remus.

Remus flushed a little. ”Oh. Well good. Though I doubt this is the best one you’ve got-”

”Trust me. It is.” Sirius said and opened the regular chocolate bar. He broke off two pieces and handed one to Remus.

After they had eaten a couple pieces in silence Sirius opened his mouth looking at the puppy now asleep on Remus��s chest. ”So. I didn’t know you had gotten a puppy.”

Remus petted the puppy and smiled. ”This one actually isn’t our own. You know my parents are vets, right?” Sirius nodded. ”Well, now that we have fully adjusted to life here they have gotten back to their usual antics. When we lived in the States they used to bring sick animals and ones that needed to be fostered back home all the time. They had to take a brake from that hobby for a while but yesterday they brought this little guy home. He was found on the side of a highway abandoned.” At that Sirius frowned worriedly and Remus grabbed the puppy gently and laid it on Sirius chest. The puppy nuzzled contedly and fell back asleep.

”After I couldn’t reach you all day I decided to come check on you. When I got up to leave she woke up as well and wanted to come outside with me. I didn’t want her to wake the whole house up with her small barks so I just scooped her up and put her in my pocket for the walk.” Remus told him.

”My phone must have died. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. I didn’t know you even wanted to reach me.” Sirius muttered.

Remus shook his head. ”If you think I the little argument we had after practice is enough to scare me away, you are very wrong. And stop apologizing. It’s not your fault.”

”I’m sorry, I’ll stop-” Sirius was quick to apologize.

”Sirius!”

”I’m sorry- NO, I mean okay. I’ll stop.” Sirius stammered.

Remus laughed a little. ”Okay. Good.”  

They continued talking for about half an hour after that. They talked mostly about puppies to avoid any uncomfortable subjects. The clock was nearing 3 a.m.

Sirius yawned loudly.

”I think I should go. We should both propably get some sleep.” Remus yawned as well.

Sirius stretched under the covers. ”We propably should.” And threw his hand over his eyes.

Remus rose from his place where he was sitting on top of the covers. Sirius watched him walk over to his desk and put his jacket on. After that he reached inside his pocket where he pulled a dark brown beanie that he put on his head.

Remus turned around eyeing Sirius suspiciously. ”Where is the puppy?”

Sirius cracked a smile at that. ”I don’t know what you are talking about. I haven’t seen any puppies lately.”

Remus walked over to him and suspected his form beneath the covers. Sirius knew what he was looking for but he still blushed a little. Remus grabbed one corner of the blanket covering Sirius and yanked it off of him. Sirius quickly turned to cover the puppy sleeping near his side. Sirius started to laugh as Remus tried to reach the puppy but ended up tickling him. Remus smiled brightly at the sound but despite that he dove on top of Sirius to reach the puppy. He managed to grab her and turned with a wolfy grin towards Sirius. They both froze at that since their noses were almost touching each other.

”You found the puppy.” Sirius breathed out.

”That I did.” Remus said as he rose from the bed. He composed himself quickly before turning back towards Sirius who was pulling the covers back on. Remus held the puppy in front of Sirius’s face and smiled a little. ”Say bye. Now you’ll at least have a reason to start visiting.”

The corners of Sirius’s mouth lifted as he looked at the puppy. ”True. I’ll have to come see this little one.”

Remus slid the puppy into one of his coat’s inside pockets and walked up to the window. On the way he shut off the lamp leaving the room to be lighted up by the moon. He opened the window and raised one of his legs onto the other side.

Sirius took a breath in. ”Remus, thank you. For the chocolate. And for bringing the puppy.”

”It’s alright. I hoped you’d like them.” Remus said quietly. ”Good night. Text me when you wake up.” ”Good night.” Sirius whispered as Remus climbed out the window and slid it shut. Sirius burrowed deeper underneath the covers and let his eyes close. In the quiet darkness Sirius noticed how he could still smell the puppy and a slight tint of chocolate.

That night Sirius didn’t dream of pain and flying punches but of brown curls peaking out beneath a beanie and small puppies. When he woke up he wasn’t sure if last night was real but at the sight of chocolate on his desk he let out a relieved sigh.

Chocolate really is good no matter what time you are eating it. He thought as he munched on a piece while texting Remus.

[prosopopeya]

Fic Writer Questions

from @clarrisani !!!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

on ao3 i have 28. tbf though i never transferred over a bunch of my stuff from lj back in the day.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

176,571

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

11 listed on ao3. shout out though to house, which i wrote a bunch for but it never made it to ao3, and likely never will, and also to sherlock holmes which i wrote some fic for but more significantly, spend 2 years roleplaying. also if we want to get real nostalgic, the hits from my ffn days included such fandoms as lizzie mcguire, buffy, star trek voyager, monk, and of course, labyrinth.

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Inevitable Homoeroticism in Spanish Romantic Heroes: my dean is a hispanist, grad school au. written bc at the time i was reading so many college aus and going you know what. you know what this fandom needs. and also i need therapy and instead i will write this fic.

i’m so glad it was and still is well received, and until this year’s dcbb, i thought i’d never write something as personally significant as this ever again. i’m happy to be adding something else to that list shortly (and hope it’s as well liked!).

as a sidenote, this fic was requested by and heavily cheerleaded by a friend of mine who has since passed away, and i will always think of jaymee when i think of this fic.

Like Real People Do: my impulse-written, kneejerk reaction to cas’s confession in 15x18. i wanted cas to have a chance to process his feelings separate from dean and also i wanted to push back on the notion that he was happy just saying it bc maybe after all he wants dean to love him back. it’s fitting that it comes after the grad school au in this list bc it was my return to fandom. also a rare example of me writing cas pov. (soon to not be so rare.)

Flying in Circles Inside a Jar: a s5 era fic where dean and cas get together in a roundabout way. god this was written so long ago and there are parts of it i want to change, but overall i’m still proud of a lot of moments in this fic. some good dialogue in here.

Command Me to Be Well: my angstier entry into my s15 fix-its. dean decides that he will let him and cas have sex but they can’t have feelings about it. this got way more popular than i thought it would, and it took me forever to write it, but it was definitely proof to me that i could come back to writing bc i had to edit this fic a bunch, and i was always horrible at editing. but i have better meds now yay!

fourth place is technically the codas to the grad school au, which also have some good moments but also the last coda i wrote makes me cry when i think about it still. but bc it’s part of the same universe i’m going to add:

Some Boys are Sleeping Alone: another early days fic ft. dean coming to terms with his sexuality and how it was affected by his father among other things throughout his life. this has essentially become the backbone to my conception of dean’s sexuality in canon. it ends sad! plot twist for me these days.

what i love about this list, looking at it now, is that it’s a healthy mix of my old stuff and my new stuff, and overall represents well my themes of dean’s bisexual journey and several examples of cas standing up for himself, though s4/s5 cas was just like that.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

i didn’t back in the day so much bc, you know, grad school, i was busy. i’ve been trying to since i got back into writing but have been staring at my inbox of things i need to reply to for like three months. i will do it at some point!

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

god i don’t know. i wrote so much angstier stuff back in the day. i don’t really want to re-peruse all the random stuff on my ao3 but here’s one that sticks out to me even still: the au that has quinn fabray from glee in a sham marriage with jason mcconnell from bare: a pop opera and no one is happy. no one asked for this fic but i had many feelings about it.

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

these days most of my fics end happy, but the one that still has me tear up at the end is the fluff entry i wrote for dean’s birthday: through autumn’s advancing. it’s jody that always gets me. jody hugging and murmuring a goodbye to dean, and then dean watching as she hugs and whispers something to cas. i don’t know what she’s saying but her embracing cas just gets me every time.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

oh boy. back in the day, i would write just about anything anyone asked of me, and i prided myself on selling the wildest concepts imaginable. my lj contains a multitude of shames, but on ao3 probably the wildest is supernatural/my little pony: friendship is magic. here’s another example of me writing cas as he bonds with fluttershy.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

i don’t... think so?

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

boy do i! uh the naked kind?? idk my approach to sex scenes is to try to capture realism but in the emotional sense. usually there’s a fun amount of dialogue. some amount of significance beyond just the act itself. i think my big thing is still representing the characters as themselves, in character.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i’m aware of.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

i don’t think so?!

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

this dcbb is essentially being like executive produced by @marbleflan. but there may be a more explicitly co-written fic coming up. :) :) :)

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

dean/cas, hands down. nothing will ever compare to the absolute insanity of the way they happened in this television show.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

i started a dean/benny/cas purgatory fic that i want to get back to one day... also my fic with ghost!kevin teaming up with human blood!crowley and human!cas.

16) What are your writing strengths?

i’d like to think it’s capturing the feel of the character and staying ic. that’s my #1 goal always and the best comment i could ever receive. i like my dialogue too.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

plot. i can’t plot to save my life. also editing. also inventing any original character is an absolute blindspot of mine.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

well i mean. i have. done that. my bilingual experience involves some weaving in and out of a language in conversation, usually mid-sentence or once you hit a word you either can’t think of in one language or feels better in another. or filler words/phrases like well, or let’s go.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

gosh. probably lizzie mcguire.

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

the grad school au will always hold a special place in my heart. but i also really love this one i wrote that was a love letter to the virginia state fair, which i went to like every year when i was a kid and still hold a lot of nostalgia and love for in my heart. i really want to retool that one. there are some things i want to change about it, you know, almost ten years later.

@ anyone who wants to do this thing!!!!!!!

[profoundchaoscomputer]

As time goes on

Summary:

“I will say this: I’m happy to be here with Jack. With you. And I love you. I love you both.”

This is a short fic Kate(@rathxritter) and me, Trev(@profoundchaoscomputer) wrote for the Destiel Partner Project (@destiel-partner-project). Thank you so much for this opportunity!

Kate, you were an awesome partner, all of our ideas complimented each other so well that that adding stuff and editing from you or me was always a delight, thank you so much!--Trev

Fic under the cut, alternatively you can also read it here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30576530

As time goes on

Late November. Knotty and naked branches tower themselves against the sky, dark outlines in the afternoon sun. The ground is covered in leaves and the grass is barely visible like winks of a long gone summer, spotted amidst the sea of warmer colors - yellow, orange, red and rich browns seem to make the universe that time of the year. It's a breathtaking and ordinary scenery, autumn always is. Everyday beauty is often taken for granted, but for Cas it will always be a new miracle. The sidewalk, on the other hand, is mostly clear, yet there are some areas of it where the leaves remain untouched, rotting away as they are being walked on, cracking under people's shoes as their heels click on the pavement.

Sometimes Cas thinks he is like those yellow checkered rooting away leaves.

...Once had he basked on the glory of a foolish leaf, proud stagnant, evergreen, timeless, aimless, clutching blindly to the tree, rain, wind, snow, only knowing of heaven above, but never about the dirt of the ground...to be still is to be alive?

Only after he fell, he understood, to fall is to become alive, it hurts, unthetered, weightful death sentence, to decide to root away.

And it took too much time to realize, but isn't all life beautiful because it's so ephemeral? so the past is treasured, today is a miracle, and tomorrow is a gift: to become a golden leaf and covered in spots, proof of every breath, copper, orange, red. The leaves fall and Cas falls, wrinkles and lines, aching muscles and tender joints, alone at times, but now trying something, with Dean, Jack, a family found along the way. Dancing along the wind, against tempest and arid times, getting muddy and dirtied, alive, along warm gusts and gentle times, and becoming crumpled leafs, laughing and crying at the mercy of time.

So times moves and flows away and now is a worthy day to note, It's a sunny day, as warm as the later autumn afternoon allows, and the, otherwise clear blue sky, is studded with some solitary clouds - dirty white that verges on grey, they look as if someone painted them on a canvas using the finest watercolours and the most exquisite brushwork. 

It's a sunny day and the air smells of rotten apples, oozing resin, and frost. It's the smell of death and destruction, of glimmering hope. A welcoming smell, the smell of life, so lulling and comforting, that fills people's nostrils as they go on with their day. The smell of home, an active reminder that life is to be treasured.

"How does the story end?" asks Jack as he hands Cas a paper bag, the bookshop's logo printed on it with bright red letters.  

"How do you want it to end?" Cas asks, smiling.

He knows the stories that Dean tells Jack, the ones he half reads and ends up making as he goes, stuffing in his own share for who knows what reasons. The thing is they both laugh and the red hooded girl surely doesn't have a shapeshifter, last time he checked. Overheard some of them while passing through the small living room in order to get outside and speak on the phone with Sam. 

It's their thing and he tries not to cross lines and wriggle in - Dean tells stories and does all the voices, Jack laughs, Dean laughs: a complete picture that doesn't quite need him there, an intimate bubble of two as he has his own with Dean and another one with Jack too and its Dean's "job" to put Jack to sleep. So he doesn't ask, Dean doesn't speak about it. It's healthy for Jack to grow different relationships with them on their own.

 Still, he does know about them and listens more often than he would care to admit, from behind the door, feeling like a stranger in his own house.

 About the ordinary tales of overcoming evil and suddenly there are Vampires and Djins and it's always about not giving up no matter how scared and angry one may feel. It's about children being allowed to be children even in a world of danger and Dean's voice oozing vulnerability as well as hurt. 

There were times he had considered taking his hand only to step away before he could be seen, Dean has allowed himself to be this vulnerable in front of Jack as his own kin. He couldn't mess up this trust and growth with selfishness.

Jack looks down distractedly and kicks some leaves, causing them to rustle, crack and scatter. Soon enough found a clump of leaves and decided it was good enough to swim on them. It's the contrast that makes Cas think and stop a bit, Jack so joyful on a blanket of cracked corpses, life playing with death, handfuls of leaves on Jack's hands, a handful of ashes, ashes to ashes, a pool of dead yet life stills blooms so beautifully and hopeful, death and creation, hand by hand, as time goes by. 

"I don't know," says Jack as he picks up an acorn from the mess he just made and studies it attentively before stuffing it into the pocket of his Jacket. Lately, they've been the hiding place of all sorts of hidden treasures - acorns, buttons, funny looking rocks, and empty shells - later taken out and displayed on the shelves in his bedroom, right next to his Paddington books and carved animal statuettes.

He laughs, "Dean always puts a lot of death in them."

"Does he?" asks Cas.

"Sometimes they are all alone. I don't mind, they make me want to live!" he says, his chirpy laughter echoing through the air, soon followed by thunderous stomping: Wellington boots, yellow with a bee pattern printed on them, splashing water from a puddle on the grass.

Castiel sighs and carefully sits down on the battered bench in the small park. Its wood is ruined and the paint is peeling off and soft moss is thriving in those places where the material never quite manages to completely dry off. A wet bench, but still appreciates it with a crack of back bones.

"Well," he says, holding back a grimace of pain. "I think you and Dean may both be right when you say that it's about feeling alive."

Jack nods solemnly in agreement. "And what about the children? They climb trees and drink lemonade, but what happens after that."

"They do everything their own way and they are good at that."

"Dean can do it better." Jack puffs loudly.

"Then you should ask him as soon as he comes back." Cas smiles.

"I think I will. Can I give you something?" asks Jack.

"Yes, of course."

"I'll get it soon," he says and walks away, running around through the leaves, freely, squealing in delight.

A knot forms at the back of Cas's throat as he watches his son play in the autumn scenery. Life and death keeping each other company, effortlessly interconnected in an endless cycle. So loud the sound of his youth, Jack waranders off, bubbling with raw energy, entropic in a contagious way that Cas can't help but melt a bit on this warm brightness and he laughs too. Bittersweet, yeah, that's life for you. Something hopeful, the sound of a child's laughter and his fatherly love, brightening everything  - precious and blossoming, always, amidst death and horror preventing the future from turning into ashes and mingling as equal with the past.

"This is for you," says Jack, out of breath, proud, stretching out his arm and handing Castiel a yellow leaf with green edges. "You can press it and frame it like they showed me in school."

"Thank you, Jack. This is... lovely. This is lovely, I like it." He smiles softly, fondness washing over him.

He looks at the gift, studying it as he turns it around, and wonders how much Jack knows about his own state. Does he know he chose to be a rooting away leaf too?

Cas fell, a long time ago, changing so completely, that his former self is nothing but a distant memory. Now Cas can look at the situation with more clarity of judgement, as he clearly lacked for more time than he could care to admit: in falling, he became alive and while it hurt and had at some point felt like a death sentence, life was, is, and will be beautiful with its alternating ups and downs.

 But again, being alive is always too much, so stuffed with messy feelings, whirling fiery tempest, it becomes crowded, on edge, flammable as well as vulnerable, scalding in a slow simmering way, such that he would call worse than falling.

 Meeting for the first time fear in a not immediate war or easily numbing adrenaline to survive, and thus being laid bare to see himself in the mirror and being bombarded with all the truths he didn't want to hear, scared of being alone, despite having Jack, Dean, and everyone else too; afraid of this too good looking second chance usually so monomaniacally forbidden and his guilt biting so hard he feels like choking on every breath, whispering his worst thoughts, over and over like broken record, all his faults, all his "greater good" soaking his hands in blood, what is to deserve when one has betrayed, what is a right when one has killed and done the unspeakable, what is to have freedom when each breath tastes of regret, what is peace when silence draws despair. On top of it now powerless, his own human body with the aching joints and cold bones… being at the mercy of time rather than being above it.

Because time now moves and flies away, slipping through his finger. Ticked away by clocks. Irrevocable hours leaden circles travelling through the air and ultimately dissolving. 

Blinding shrieks of fear and self consciousness slowly started to become a hum and then days turn into weeks and weeks into months, one season following the other and the world changing, subtly at first, adjusting to the rising and dropping temperature and the inclement weather. Too hot and then too cold, and the months of adjustment in between for a couple of weeks with perfect temperatures and no sudden changes. Soon, it will be winter once more: the first frost has already started to beautify the windows, leaving white and translucent intricate patterns on glass, and the weather is changing - rain and strong winds as announced by the weather forecast daily after the six o’clock news.

Some of it, he'll never get back. Those sorry months and years he'd relive by reentering the moment and changing it radically from within by doing everything right are long out of question and he wouldn't risk fate and destiny to make a miracle again to break from Chuck's narrative. This time, he'd do everything right by being less prideful and avoid arguments to grow bigger and bigger until the smallest of things, enlarged in disproportion, left nothing but annoyance and anger in their wake - arguments breaking like thunder, rumbling, filling the air and making it unbearable to stand there and wonder, even for just a moment, whether love may not remain buried one day, out of reach.

The first year had been the most difficult: they had discovered at their own expense that love declarations and dreams of a speckless wonderful future were hardly enough and never actually helped in making things easier. Nothing would ever be enough. One simple truth then, which they had learned the hard way: happy endings did not exist, only endings, and even those were neutral and subject to change. No happy ever afters that tied up all ends at the last page, no sweetly dull every day epilogue. Life simply kept going, as ugly as it was before, as beautiful as it was before. They kept being the same people they were before, with all their faults and virtues, all their nightmares and dreams. Defeating the "biggest bad of the book" did not erase all of their inner troubles, maybe one or two, yes, but how many more were inside of each of them?

Dean's fear of abandonment and Cas' own desperate need to be useful had proven to be the most explosive and dangerous mix. And thing is, they couldn't forgive each other, not a particular one big reason, just too many piled up and carried over the years and while they could forget and move on, deep in their heart they couldt forgive, not really, and the topics they so desperately tried to ignore stood in their way, holding them back.

So twelve months of Castiel repeatedly leaving, he needed to hunt, to be useful, got himself head first into the line of fire so to see that his hands, while bloody, still saved lifes; sound of gunshot to shush his mind out of the accusing mirror, a warrior will always be a warrior and he had been a commander of garrisons, and so he went out and jumped from hunt to hunt with all kinds of hunter strangers until exhaustion could give him a good night sleep, weeks upon weeks  and Dean's accusations following him out of the door, you'll always abandon me.

So twelve months of Dean drinking, as Cas's remarks no doubt rung in his ears, you're slowly becoming like your father. Dean didn't know what to do with his life, depression weighing him down so hard there were only some days he could get himself out of bed, tearing at the seams without a fight to pull himself together and so he drank, Cas's words ringing into his head like poison along the bitter aftertaste of a finished bottle.

 Neither of them should have said those things although he couldn't find the strength to do anything but hold his refusal to stand on Jack's side against Dean. Dean should have asked him to stay, he should have made it clear that there was no need to be useful in order to stick around. A vicious cycle, separating them more and more, and not quite a trial - had it been one, there wouldn't have been one person who wasn’t guilty.

The second year had no room for openings, just anger as they moved like in a quagmire, the snappiness of the first year replaced with inertia. Dean threw himself into work, dirt on his jeans. Cas went to the bunker with Jack and a duffle bag stuffed with their belongings. The bunker had become some sort of hunter's sanctuary and he enjoyed the work. They did talk, but simply not enough, and refused to show themselves vulnerable - no mutual consolation, no touching, and the frail assumption that they were still on each other’s side crumbling in front of them and leaving them dismayed.

After two and a half years, on a ghastly hot summer evening, Dean leapt for the first time, really, showing nothing but fearfulness and saying, as he looked at Castiel stripping in front of him, were you going to tell me that you almost died or… It had been an accusation, the tone used made it clear, the half healing wound still patched on Cas's side inbeetwen them and their heavy silence, but there had been something else too - genuine worry and affection. They had shared a bullet of a look. Then they had kissed, desperately, hungrily, and had sex - consuming their relationship: They understood it and enjoyed it, but were still out of their depths when it came to the rest: awkwardness settling as soon as they were back in their clothes. He and Jack had left the following morning and the rest of the year had been spent abroad working on helping the international community of hunters to create a network bound to help supernatural creatures rather than killing them.

It had been the year of endless night and unsparing insomnia, wondering how to rebuild a relationship when you were also mourning one? Different versions of themselves are forever lost in time, the angel and the soldier boy, the runaway and the righteous man, the falling and the protagonist. He had spent so much time looking for something, a warning sign that they had somehow ended that loop of misery, to face the present and stop grieving the past, sorrow and unhappiness that he hadn’t actively recognized the beginning of it all, only widening the gap further. Polished surfaces and volcanoes inside - a mess of feelings, a mess of thoughts, and no way to escape them and make sense of it all. They had been prisoners of their own fears and their history had stood between them. They had spent the end of the year, retreating: each question met either by silence or elusive answers that ultimately meant nothing. It had been fake and lacked depth, the peace they tried to build when both lacked courage: they had built up a facade and spent their time together pretending that they could start from scratch. They couldn’t. He was still angry at Dean, Dean waa still angry for a multitude of reasons Cas didn't even want to know, and still for what happened with Jack, Cas didn’t dare breathe a word. And every word that wasn't about the truth, it was another shovel to bury the thing that was between them.

At the end of the third year, they had come back and they had stayed at the bunker for two whole weeks rather than a couple of days.

He had spent some ten months trying to find the right words to tell Dean that he was considering hunting less and less - wounds healed too slowly and he wasn't getting any younger. He had tentatively enquired about Dean only to find out that Dean was doing better - therapy and AA meetings and the Impala had been sold to some teenage girls. They had met, Castiel had asked about Dean’s new lodgings, Dean told him. Dinner. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. On and on like starting from scratch. Things settled, slowly, by falling into place and one night Dean asked him to sleep in his room rather than on the sofa and they talked, opened their hearts, raw and exposed, the darkness making it less awkward and easier: like talking to the idea of a person, depersonalization at its best, a space that had welcomed them and liked them as much as they liked it. Hours passed and in the morning things were different - calmer, easier. They had no more tears left to cry and no more apologies to make.

It seems almost impossible now, four years on, to remember life as it was in all its tiniest details - the bigger picture there, but lacking the intrigue and the excitement there might have been on different occasions. It’s no longer bloody and vengeful, an endless and vicious cycle where violence only led to more violence, spiralling out of control and slipping away, out of fingers, no way out. The feeling of it is familiar yet new, something that he had a long time ago, perhaps briefly, a fading memory that never existed, to begin with, secluded to the realm of dreams and conditionals. Something missing, always and unconsciously so, the feeling of longing always blooming in his chest: for something. Pointing his finger and putting a name to it is easier now as things slowly begin to come into shape.

Castiel closes his eyes, tilting his head back, chin held up high. The sun is warm on his skin, shining in through the naked branches, but his cheeks are reddened by the cold. Wrapped in his winter coat already, all buttoned up and one hand stuffed in his pockets. The sunbeams look golden and create dancing shadows on the ground, and he just stays there, still and motionless, and at peace, as he listens to Jack play in front of him.

Somewhere, through open windows, a song plays faintly though he may just be imagining it, lyrics echoing in his mind for days on end. Come and take my whole life, you are everything I want. You are everything… Mulling over them and wondering, impossible to stop, rolling and rapid. It’s peacefulness as if he spent an entire afternoon crying while sitting on a chair, though he can’t really claim to be an expert on the subject. It’s contentment and residual happiness that sometimes mixes with annoyance and anger, arguments breaking out like thunder, rumbling. Yet, still, love and happiness at simply existing, being alive, being human. The fullest and most satisfying existence, feeling things, and waking up in the morning with the sun shining in through the window, filtering through the curtains and painting the room gold as dust dances in the air in a mesmerizing pattern. Next to Dean too, a couple of moments in amicable silence before the day begins - lying there, mouth filled with the metallic taste of sleep, lazily and whispering, good morning. Time for healing.

When he opens his eyes again, the air is luminous, like St. James’ Street on a summer morning right after a decent drizzle. The light reflects on every surface and makes the air appear bright and filled with light, the edges of reality seem softened and the appearance is almost dreamlike. From down the street, Dean walking towards them holding the bags with the shopping.

“Look at who’s coming,” he says, catching Jack’s attention.

“Dean!” squeals Jack, delighted, as he runs towards him.

“Cas. No need to get up, just make us some space, will you?” Dean replies as he puts the shopping bags down, leaning them against the bench's legs. Then, before taking Jack into his arms, holding him close, he kisses Castiel’s cheek and adds, “Jack, buddy, I’ve missed you too. I’ve got something for the two of you.”

“What’s that?”

“Wait,” He stretches his arm out. “Here you go. First tangerine of the year, not too expensive. Hell, thought we deserve some after everything we went through.”

“I want a segment!” Yells Jack. Jack grabs for the piece of fruit in Dean’s hand, looking at it with fascination and entertainment at the uneven sphere of the citrus, before handing it over to Cas.

“Thank you.”

As soon as Cas starts peeling the citrus fruit, the smell fills the air. He always liked the smell of it - upbeat and cheerful, penetrating and warm. Reminiscing of cedarwood and lavender, clove too. Christmas-y. One of the happiest and most irrelevant things, easily going unnoticed, every gesture is done dismissively, instinctively and without paying too much attention. Fingertips digging into the exocarp, passing through the albedo, and removing the peel altogether - one piece at a time. Dean’s eyes are on him, he feels it, sees it with a sideways glance, studying his every move, as Jack wriggles and gurgles, impatiently waiting for his segment.

“What?” asks Cas without turning around.

“Nothing,” Dean replies as he accepts a segment just as Jack stuffs his into his mouth. “Jack, you’re making a mess of yourself. - a pause, again to Cas - I mean, this… all of it. - Dean looks at the autumn scenery, gestures widely, to the leaves and the threes, Jack, the clear sky, Cas, dazed but in a good way - I don’t know. I like it. Hell, I love it.”

“Selcouth.”

“What?”

“The word you’re looking for, I think. Rare and extraordinary.”

He’d add ‘unexpected’ to the list too, but that one to himself. It’s one thing to say that one wouldn’t be happy anywhere else with anyone else, another thing to make it work. Admittedly it took some time, irrelevant weeks after twelve years of tentatively tip-toeing around the other - this far and no further, deferring and agreeing, evading and never thinking about it, not really, not after the first couple of years. They seem to have the grasp on the ongoing juggling of the time at their disposal and days are uneventful, repetitive: he works, Dean goes to therapy and cares about the house, they play with Jack.

Twice a week Dean attends AA meetings and evenings are spent trying to make Jack sleep without having to read ten different bedtime stories and doing all the voices. And time passes, seasons change. A whole year, he sometimes reminds himself. Unbelievable. Selcouth.

And Cas examines amused these little white threads of tangerine he tears from his own segment, frail as the heart, wonder and fear, with care, like life, weaving silly braids for the sake of it, fingers clumsy, vines lacing fingers, each feels like a promise, for you, for me, feeble yet together so strong, sometimes they break, frustrated, yet not giving up, sometimes we manage a fine work, proud of a miracle yet so natural, a string of hope, a string to life, life is a tangerine and we are leaves along the wind.

Maybe he should marry Dean - Cas distractedly thinks, to which he can't help but feel the corner of his lips pulling.

“What?”

“You’re in a good mood,” says Dean. 

“Could say the same thing about you.”

“Oh, look at you,” says Dean looking away, retrieving a clean handkerchief from the pocket of his Jacket and wiping Jack’s face clean.

“I need you to be honest with me, Cas.”

“I am honest with you, Dean.”

“I don’t wanna lose you. I don’t want you to die out there.”

“I’m not going to die out there, not violently.” Castiel nods and smiles fondly, affection and tenderness washing over him in waves. It's a warm silence, a promise, the sun is out and about today. Dean looks at him like the only thing in this world and leans in for a kiss, making him feel as if he swallowed a box of fireworks instead, and this time the kiss has a citric aftertaste. Shooting stars on a summer night, dropping like a thousand suns, speckled fireworks, sunny galaxy to cup in his hands, warm and ticklish, rumble laughter and stubble, soft and rough, sweet and bitter, bliss and life, so alive, for a moment Cas is again grateful of falling: so beautiful, so much like Dean.

“I will say this: I’m happy to be here with Jack. With you. And I love you. I love you both.”

[i-am-just-a-kiddo]

2020 year in a review

thanks for tagging me @vishcount, eventhough you probably know all of these answers already. i don’t know if i am gonna do the other one, let’s see.  tagging @the-cloud-whisperer, @sassyassassy, @intyalote as usual, if you have fun with this!  I really tried to rank these amongst the top five, which was a personal challenge for me, so don’t take these rankings too seriously.  my answers below the cut cause there is a novel incoming:

Top 5 Movies you saw this year

I don’t watch many movies in general, though I have seen quite a handful this year actually? I might have forgotten half of it already tbh

Moonlit Winter (2019) -I have been waiting to find this movie online for ages, so I was incredibly happy when I finally found it at the beginning of this year. It’s wonderful, heartbreaking and raw - about the relationship between mother and daughter, about lost queer love between the mother and her friend, about life in general. I cried buckets.

Parasite (2019) -do I have to say anything? I don’t think so, this movie defined many this year right? 

The King and the Clown (2005) -pleasantly surprised by this one, it made me cry and sad and it’s not a happy gay story but it still touched me so much. also the production is amazing

Mulan (2009) -I rewatched this movie this year after hearing about the chaos that was Mulan 2020, and it still gets me; I don’t know what it is, but it might be the last part of the movie that always hits me like a train and I am back to thinking about  it

Inside The Girls (2014) -not actually a good movie with a horrible name, but certainly interesting and had some potential?? I am listing it because I had a lot of fun watching it with my dear friend vish and it was fun sharing our opinions on that, but I don’t actually recommend it that much (unless of course you wanna see Cheng Yi and Yin Zheng in a movie together being assholes)

Top 5 TV shows you watched this year

I probably watched around 20 shows this year so picking this was hard somehow? I feel like I forgot some gems but I guess these are the ones that stood out to me

Nirvana In Fire (2015) -by far the best show I’ve seen in a long time. The plot, the characters, the production - it really blew me away. I can’t recommend it enough because I still cry about it. 

Winter Begonia (2020) -Funny how I am listing this here so high considering the split opinions I have about this show but damnit, in the end it won me over. It was truly something else wow.

The Stranded (Netflix 2019)  -Another surprise, but I just remembered this little show and it was so good? I really hope we will get a second season because I loved the first one and it was way too short. Also the production of this is so stunning, as well as the interesting set of characters.

Original Sin (2018) -This was a gem I discovered in the latter part of the year, mainly because of Yin Zheng, but when I watched it, it hit my mood perfectly. A crime show that has a beautiful atmosphere and is focused on characters. It has its faults and if you watch it for the cases and the plot, it’s not the most outstanding show but damnit, I watched it twice and loved it. 

YYY: The Series (2020) -Amongst all these BL shows out there, this is my personal gem. It’s a wild ride of crack and sweetness, so enter at your own risk. let me just say I did not expect to bawl my eyes out at this tiny cracky show. 

Top 5 songs of 2020

it really sucks having to choose only five songs but here I go from the huge amount of stuff I have listened to

Black Swan by BTS -this is pure art. in every way, it caters to my taste. I have nothing else to say except that it owns my soul. the visuals, the atmosphere, the music, the lyrics, the performance. it hits all marks and hurts me on a personal level.

Strange (feat. RM) by Agust D  -this mixtape saved me and choosing my fave song from this was difficult but I guess I have to name this iconic collab. The lyrics of this are truly....something else. if you have time, please go check them out, as well as the entire mixtape.

Pain by Vaundy -I have been very obsessed with this song and this singer, he has my heart.

Rien à prouver by Yseult -again, I am just obsessed with this song and her voice, Yseult truly is a goddess to me at this point 

Zombie by Day6  -perfectly captures my mind, my life and my state this year.

Top 5 books you read in 2020   I have only read two novels this year, everything else was either university stuff or poetry, so this is what I am mostly listing here.

Gyeongju. The Capital of Golden Silla by Sarah Milledge Nelson -I used this as my main source for one of my fics I wrote this year and it was perfect. I spent an intense week of only researching for this topic and had a blast; especially this book was a blessing because it gave a good overview of what life back then could have been like.

Call Down the Hawk by Maggie Stiefvater -one of the novels I read this year and I’ve been waiting for this for ages. Like the other books from TRC, I bingeread it on one day and adored it. Am excited for the rest of the trilogy and this new adventure!

Beyond The First Emperor’s Mausoleum: New Perspectives On Qin Art, edited by Liu Yang  -I read this for one of my lectures and I thought it had very interesting essays, namely Archaeological Finds of the Maijiayuan Cemetery and Qin’s Interaction with Steppe Cultures by Wang Hui; and Qin Cosmography and the First Cosmic Capital - Xianyang by David W. Pankenier. 

The Mongol Empire. Betweem Myth and Reality by Denise Aigle -another one I read for lectures and it was a good overview to the broad topic that is the Mongol Empire. 

Night Sky With Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong -I adore Vuong’s writing style so I hope to read more of his work. This is a beautiful, raw and honest work and I hope many more will read his book and the stories he has to tell. 

+ Bonus: Affinity by Sarah Waters - wlw set in 19th century London; very dark and spooky and very fun to read if you like this sort of atmosphere (as I do).

5 positive things that happened in 2020

i managed to write and create a lot during the first half of this year, which i will treasure greatly. recently i have been struggling a lot - maybe it’s getting back on track now, but i guess i am still proud of all i managed to write/draw/other wise create this year.

amazing new flatmates joined our collective so i feel happy that we have this pleasant dynamic going on currently 

i acquired some new housplants which have made me very happy this year, eventhough i struggle a little bit to keep them completely happy. am truly trying my best

i started taking medications for my depression, anxiety and social phobia in autumn and i think it was for the best. i still struggle from time to time but i truly feel a difference and i am glad this worked out mostly smoothly for me

in september we went on a short holiday in on the countryside and on the last night we all went outside to sit on the pier by a small pond. i will never forget this moment because after what felt like ages, i saw a crystal clear night sky. i haven’t seen so many stars in years and i could even see their reflections on the water, it was so magical and breathtaking. i think it was the one moment that still stands out from everything else. i just wish to return there, on my own, and just lie down for hours

anyway, if you have read through this rambling, i wish you a very happy new year and hope things will get better!! 

[foxtophat]

(still trying to figure out how i link these but whatever)

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!! i decided to just sit down and hammer out the last edits for this lil one-shot so i could get it out today!

i’m gonna be real with you: the only reason i wrote this fic is because i couldn’t get the idea out of my head.  you weren’t supposed to see mercyverse for another month, honestly!!! but it’s been cold as fuck here and it’s made me fantasize about classic bed-sharing tropes, and so here we are!

this is a bit of a slice of life, to sort of give an idea of how day-to-day these guys all interact, especially now that carmina doesn’t have to pretend john doesn’t exist.  plus, i’m starting to see how the caches might be involved in the overarching plot???? awesome!!!

as usual, the full text is below the cut for my friends who don’t wanna leave tumblr.  i hope you enjoy -- feel free to leave a comment, i loooove hearing from readers. likes and reblogs are also great! kudos are fantastic! adding to the hit counter is just fine by me!!! anything you do to show support for fanfic is a good thing imo.  i hope y’all have a happy wintereenmas or whatever and i will see you guys in 2021 with more mercyverse :)

The best thing Nick can say about the blizzard currently sweeping the county is that he could see that it was coming. They'd gotten almost a foot of snow the night before, which gets him worried about getting snowed in, and as the day progresses, the sky grows an ominous gray that Nick recognizes from a lifetime of living in the area. He knows that they probably only have a few hours left before they're going to want to get inside and avoid the worst a winter storm has to offer.

Nick and John spend the entire morning hauling wood into the house, while Kim does her best to clean out the broken chimney and ensure they won't die of smoke inhalation. They also pull in some pre-made stock that Kim had left in the freezer after it had gotten cold enough to use, as well as a few smaller pieces for miscellaneous projects. But with the storm rolling in overhead, they don't have long; they end up leaving a lot of things for later as the wind whips up around them and turns the snow sideways.

By two in the afternoon, they've closed the doors to officially bunker down for the rest of the blizzard. They have enough wood to last them three days, plus their military rations and plenty of coffee, so Nick isn't particularly concerned about their safety. The only thing he's really got to contend with is boredom, which is easier to stave off in the first few hours of captivity than it is later in the evening.

For the most part, Nick passes the time by sharpening their knives, cleaning their guns, and checking the radio every hour for any emergencies. The blizzard ensures that not many people are on, but at least he gets to check in with Jerome and make sure that Grace is safely in her bunker. It's unlikely they'll get in contact with the trailer park until after the worst passes, but that just means Nick's gonna worry about those jackasses all night.

Kim is probably the only one comfortable with the downtime, making the most of things as she chews on the radio's instructions. When the technical jargon gets to be too much, she switches to entertaining Carmina, who gets bored quick when her only job is to keep the fire going. The easiest distraction comes from card games; the deck they'd had in the bunker had shrunk to only 32 cards, but now that they've got a full deck to work with, Carmina is eager to relearn and master games like Go Fish and Old Maid. Nick doubts Jacob planned to be entertaining kids with his survival gear, but it's not like the guy's gonna complain.

Carmina isn't the only one that Jacob is keeping busy beyond the grave. Ever since they found that cache of his, John has been borderline obsessed with figuring out what the point of it could be. He'll go all day without mentioning the puzzle plaguing him, but any available downtime has him staring at the map and its coordinates. Nick and Kim have both been keeping an eye on it, just in case it turns into something worse than his usual tunnel-vision, but so far it hasn't gotten out of hand. If anything, John seems more aware and alert now that he has something to focus on, and now Nick can even pretend he's a normal guy for conversations at a time before being reminded otherwise.

Of course, the blizzard's making it impossible to find alternate distractions. John does spend part of the afternoon in his room, but eventually, he can't help but come downstairs to mull over the map. There's only one problem with that — they've hung the map up in the radio room, so there's about ten minutes every hour where Nick has no choice but to sit in John's presence. It probably wouldn't bother him so much if there was somewhere else either of them could be, but they're stuck for the foreseeable future. John's looming is just going to be part of Nick's life until the storm passes.

In the interest of keeping the peace, Nick reluctantly tries to have the same level of interest in the random dots that John shows. His attention, however, is distracted by the penciled-in changes that he, Kim and John have all been making to the landscape. The river's wider in some places now, and there are doodles of trees in spaces that were once open fields. A few X's mark places where bridges have collapsed, and Kim's circled anywhere they've made radio contact with. Their notations have scattered across the valley, and have even spread over to the river region thanks to Hurk and his raider gang, but they still don't know anything about the mountains, or even the spaces that are supposedly occupied by bow-wielding religious nutjobs. It's going to be a while before any of them get the nerve to go poking that particular hornet's nest.

John has his little notebook open, but he's not writing anything down. Nick's not sure what he would even put down, since they haven't gotten any more leads since early autumn, but he's always got the thing tucked in a pocket nowadays. Maybe Nick should be mad he outright stole that resource from the rest of them, but — well, come on. He can't yell at the man for taking up journaling, not without flying in the face of every therapist Nick had pretended not to listen to. It's just... well, what the hell is there for him to write down?

"Are you staring for any particular reason?" John asks, because of course he does.

"That's rich, coming from the guy lurking over my shoulder all day." Nick flips off the static-ridden radio frequency, leaning back in his chair so that he can get a better look at the map push-pinned to the wall. "I hear if you look at it just right, you can see a sailboat."

John's clearly not much of a Kevin Smith fan, because he only sighs heavily at Nick's flat joke. "If you have something better for me to be doing, I'm all ears," he says, revealing to Nick at last just how bored he really is. Weirdly enough, being in the same boat as John is somehow reassuring.

"Okay, fine. At least tell me what you're staring at, so I know what to fake interest in."

Even though it's mostly a joke, it lands softly enough that John doesn't take offense. Stuffing the notebook in his back pocket, he shakes his head, gesturing at the map. Getting John to explain himself is usually like pulling teeth, but right now he seems relieved to have someone to bounce his thoughts off of. It's a long way away from the guy Nick remembers saving, enough so that it almost catches his full interest.

"It's nothing in particular, really. I've already spent hours staring at this thing, but I'm... still looking for a pattern, I guess. Jacob was paranoid and secretive, but if there's a hidden code buried in these coordinates, it's beyond me to see it. And the snow was already keeping us from traveling too far — now with this blizzard, we're likely stuck with no new information until spring ..."

John sighs, rubbing his forehead as the pretense finally abandons him. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do until then."

That's certainly a feeling that Nick can relate to. Nick is less of a workaholic than John might be, but that doesn't mean he won't go stir-crazy without his own set of chores. Hell, that's why he's been hanging around the radio in between games of cards with the girls and cleaning whatever he can get his hands on. It must suck extra for John; the guy's been spinning his tires in the dirt for years, probably, and being this close to having a purpose beyond doing whatever chores Nick sets him to must be irritating.

Nick props one leg up against the wall, tapping his boot against the wood as he ponders the dots scattered around the map. There are a few still in the valley, but there's no driving until they thaw out. The points in the mountains are probably inaccessible to anybody, and who knows when they'll get to investigate the old vet center or find the Wolf's Den. There are a couple points nearer the trailer park, though, and not for the first time Nick tries to measure the distance from Hurk to the various red dots. There's one near the lumber mill, and one near where that godawful statue was, and of course one right smack dab in the middle of the original Peggy compound.

Nick can't imagine his truck making it all the way there and back, not without more information about the roads. Hurk might not have the same trouble. "I could send the trailer park a couple coordinates," he points out. "They might get to search before us, and it could cut the work in half."

Despite John's scowl, he only sounds tired as he replies, "I've considered it, but I don't trust them. Then again, I hardly trust myself, so who knows."

"I guess you're shit outta luck, then," Nick says. John takes obvious offense at Nick brushing him off, but hey, what else is Nick supposed to do? "God's giving you a freebie with this blizzard. Maybe you should try catching up on your sleep, or something."

"And ruin the precarious schedule I'm keeping?"

"Jesus, then go read a book! Just — you know, quit hovering over me all day. Don't you know how to entertain yourself?"

John seems unphased by Nick's half-hearted outburst. "This is how I entertain myself. Maps, resources, legal documents — that's probably the only decent outlet I've ever had." He stares at Nick's boot, unwilling to meet his eyes. "At least, it's the only one healthy enough to keep."

That is probably a safe bet, Nick realizes, quickly trying to backpedal away from the open scab that is John's history. "Uh, well, what about before the cult?"

John surprises them both with a brief laugh. "If I could source some coke, then yes, I would be entertained."

"Jesus, John."

"I'm not known for my healthy self-care habits," John points out, a little too smug to be truly self-deprecating. At least he seems to understand what Nick had been getting at originally, deferring with a vague hand-wave. "Is my loitering in the kitchen going to be too smothering for you, too, or is that okay?"

Nick rolls his eyes, flipping the radio back on to scan the channels once again. "It's fine, whatever. Just as long as you've got something better to entertain yourself than snaking the whiskey Jacob left."

"I'm more of a gin guy," John admits.

"Of course you are."

It's still a relief, though, knowing they aren't keeping an alcoholic too near his fix. On top of that, John's relaxed disregard for his past vices settles nerves Nick hadn't even realized were rattled. Sure, there's probably a whole other box of American Psycho- esque worms waiting to be opened up from John's time before Eden's Gate, but at least he seems to have comfortably packed that part of his life away for now. Unlike talking about the cult, John has no trouble dropping the conversation, just as casually as he'd brought it up. He retreats into the kitchen to mull over whatever he's written down already, leaving behind no traumatic story or sad-eyed stare — just the casual admission that he would really like to do some drugs.

Weirdly enough, that is probably the most respectable thing about John to date.

Nick spends another fifteen minutes checking the radio, scanning the channels he knows people use most. He winds up with nothing to show for it — either the storm is making radio communication impossible, or everybody else has given up on their radios. It's only after he's cleared the range twice that he flips the radio off and escapes back to Kim and Carmina, leaving John in the kitchen with a broad, somehow-sarcastic gesture towards the now unoccupied radio nook.

Carmina ropes Nick into a game of Go Fish, which Kim seems keen on losing. Nick isn't surprised — Carmina is a wily player, which is to say that she tries to bluff her way through hands with all the grace of a sledgehammer. Kim's not as willing to put up with cheating as Nick is, but neither of them are capable of even pretending to believe Carmina's poker face. It's going to be a problem one day, but Nick isn't exactly ready to teach his daughter how to lie to his face.

Well, that is until she and Nick are on their third round of Go Fish, and Nick has had to pretend not to see through all of Carmina's gambits.

He asks her if she has any threes, and she scrunches her nose up as she glances meaningfully at her cards. "Go fish," she says, making Nick regret not having Kim sit right behind their daughter as a referee.

"Fine," he grumbles, "If you say so."

Kim blinks skeptically at the pants she's fixing, but she doesn't offer Nick any out. If it weren't for his clumsy hands, maybe he could use darning socks and patching shirts as an excuse to quit playing, but as it stands, the only thing he has other than getting trounced is staring at the map with John. And since he already tried that and found it to be mildly aggravating at best...

"You know, this would be more fun with more people," Nick says, desperately glancing at Kim.

Kim, of course, gives him no quarter. "Why don't you ask John," she suggests rhetorically.

"John," Carmina calls out, "Do you wanna play Go Fish?"

Nick opens his mouth to chastise Carmina, but he realizes there's nothing to discipline her for. Especially not when John flippantly replies, "I think your father's looking to play with fewer cheaters, not more."

"I'm not cheating!" Carmina exclaims, not-so-surreptitiously pressing her cards into her lap to ensure nobody's looking at them. Between that and her guiltily furrowed brow, there's no hiding it. Her poker face needs a lot of work.

"Go Fish isn't even worth cheating at," Nick sighs, gesturing for her cards. "If that's the way you wanna play, at least do it the right way. Here, gimme your cards — John, come over here so I can teach my daughter how to lie to your face."

As if playing a game of cards with John wasn't enough to excite Carmina, she's doubly over the moon when he tells her the rules. After all, a ten-year-old girl is the prime demographic for the game Bullshit, especially when she's given carte blanche to shout cuss words at her dad. On top of that, it seems like bluffing really is half of the fun for his daughter — which is a little intimidating, sure, but at least he knows she's smart enough to understand the utility of lying.

John is... unenthusiastic, to say the least, but that only makes the prospect of humiliating him that much better. A few weeks ago, Nick would've thought John was too fragile to be messed with, but now there's a bounce in his step that will make taking him down easier. He's got to do something to remind himself that this nearly-tolerable man is usually a miserable sonofabitch.

Unfortunately, John has a fantastic poker face. Nick figured that from the get-go, but it's still daunting to play against a bored, uninterested party. That's probably why Carmina avoids John in favor of hounding Nick, calling out "bullshit!" with delightful glee whenever she thinks Nick has dropped the wrong face card or played a nine instead of a King. On the one hand, Nick appreciates that he can read her as well as she can, but on the other hand, he'd really like a chance to beat John. So far, he's the only one who's called John out, and all he has to show for it is the extra six cards in his hand.

Although Kim is on standby for this round, she keeps flashing Nick amused grins whenever Carmina calls bullshit. Nick almost hopes John can hold it together to be mundane for two entire rounds of cards because he wouldn't stand a chance against Kim.

Case in point, John lays down two cards that are meant to be threes, and Kim clicks her tongue disapprovingly. Carmina frowns up at her mom, who only shrugs and suggests, "I would call him out, if I were you."

John's neutral frown doesn't change. "Last I checked, you weren't playing," he says.

Kim only shrugs in response. Nick furrows his brow at Kim while Carmina squints suspiciously from the discard pile to John and then back again. Of course, encouraging a ten-year-old to swear is always going to win out, and so Carmina wrinkles her nose and calls John out with a slightly uncertain, "Okay, bullshit."

Without so much as a grimace of defeat, John lets Carmina flip his played cards — one three, and one dirty, rotten, lying, bullshit seven .

"That's what I thought," Kim says, flippantly triumphant. "Guess you're not as hard to read as you thought."

Nick sure can't tell what John's thinking as he lifts one shoulder noncommittally. "I stand corrected."

"Wait," Nick asks, "What gave it away?"

"I'm not helping you too , Nick," Kim laughs. "That wouldn't be fair."

"It's not exactly fair to help Carmina," John points out. Nick bets he's just as interested in what tell Kim noticed, although he manages to be less obvious about it. At least he can't crack Kim's smug smile any better than Nick, which is some small compensation.

Nick manages to win this hand, if only because his play strategy involves lying as little as possible. That seems to work against Carmina no problem, but Nick suspects John threw the game out of personal disinterest. If it weren't for the howling winds whistling through the roof and second story, John would probably excuse himself from another hand by retreating upstairs, but as it is he manages to sit through one more round of cards, this time with Kim joining in.

Carmina's poker-face doesn't improve by leaps and bounds, exactly, but she manages to fool Nick into picking up a fat stack of cards, so that's something. Too bad he'd been trying to teach her to lie to John , not her parents. Well — at least she's a nice enough kid to only do it for fun. He hopes, anyway.

Kim makes John's loss look more organic, at least, and she doesn't rub it in too badly when she wins. It's extra kind of her considering Nick is the one who called her last play bullshit, leaving him to rot in miserable third place after both his girls. Well, fine . At least Carmina seemed to have fun, even if Nick is now sitting with nearly half a deck in his hands. If the blizzard keeps up for too long, they might have to graduate to poker.

Before they can play any more card games, though, they take time out for dinner. It's almost normal, sitting around the fireplace with their military rations and some hot broth — if they were eating Marie Calendar pot-pies and watching Christmas movies, Nick would even be able to ignore John's presence sticking out like a sore thumb.

The next best thing to watching movies is talking about them, which has become something of a tradition between the Ryes. It all started in the bunker, where Kim and Nick ran out of normal Christmas stories and began taking turns narrating whatever holiday movies they could remember. They've run through all the memorable Rankin & Bass flicks, as well as a couple more contemporary ones, so they're starting to reach for their personal favorites or the very bottom of the barrel plots.

Nick intends to be paying Jingle All the Way a tribute tonight, but as soon as he mentions that the Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle is one of his favorites, he's interrupted by John snorting derisively.

"Let me guess," Nick snaps, "You're one of those jackasses who pretends Die Hard is a legitimate Christmas movie just so he doesn't have to watch good, family-friendly content."

"It is a legitimate Christmas movie," John responds, just petulantly enough to tell Nick he hit the nail on the head.

"Look, Kim and I have already had this discussion — just because it takes place during Christmas doesn't make it a Christmas movie . Set dressing alone isn't enough!"

John raises his eyes towards the ceiling, which is as subtle as his eyerolls can get. "Whatever you say, Nick."

"What's Die Hard about?" Carmina asks, excitedly guessing, "Does Santa get to shoot people in it?"

"That would be a good Christmas movie," Nick replies. "No, it's just about some guy who has to fight bad guys in a building."

"During Christmas," Kim points out.

"Okay, fine during Christmas. But nobody's dressed up like Santa, nobody sings any carols, and there sure as hell isn't any Christmas magic that saves the day, so it doesn't count!"

"So what does happen?" Carmina asks.

Damn it — Nick should have known that talking about an action flick would immediately disinterest her towards any sloppy story about consumerism. She doesn't even know what a mall is — but she knows how to shoot a handgun, and now that Nick's thinking about it, she might need to use the duct-tape shoulder holster trick one day. It would be pretty bad-ass if she knew how, anyway.

"Okay, fine, I'll do it real quick. I don't remember all the parts, so Kim, you gotta help."

Real quick turns out to take almost as much time as the movie itself had. Kim interjects whenever Nick forgets a plot point, but at least he remembers the core conflict. Sort of, anyway — by the time he's done recounting John McClane's tale, John looks visibly dissatisfied, and Kim has a "well, sort of" expression on her face that implies he didn't quite nail the execution. Well, who cares what they think? All that matters is that Carmina is entertained, and of course she is. After all, narrated or not, it's still Die Hard . Just so long as she doesn't ask about the sequels, they should be okay.

The wind is still whipping overhead, and Nick can see nothing beyond the windows. There's no telling how late it's gotten. Although his internal clock insists it can't have been that long since sundown, Carmina has been yawning for a while now, and the fire's gone down again. It looks like sleeping through the storm is the only pastime left for Nick to try.

Carmina takes over stoking the fire for the final time before bed, while Kim makes her way upstairs to gather as much of their bedding as she can carry. John follows reluctantly behind, clearly unhappy with the prospect of facing his own cold room, but Nick figures he can deal for five damn minutes. For his part, Nick busies himself checking the radio one last time, just in case there's an emergency. He doesn't know what they'd be able to do if there was one, but that doesn't stop him from checking anyway.

With the radio situated just under the stairs, it's easy to listen in to Kim stomping around in the room above, desperate to keep her temperature up. Nick had put off too many attic repairs before this winter — he's going to have to make up for that in spring, when he and John can worm their way into the rafters and ensure that their next winter won't turn the bedrooms into a cold wasteland. Of course, even if they did patch up the gaps in the floorboards and do their best to insulate the attic, not much can beat a genuine fire in the middle of a snowstorm.

Nick isn't even paying attention to the radio, so he flips it off and trusts that everyone can keep themselves safe for another night. He hears the whump of fabric as Kim tosses their two biggest, least moldy blankets down for Carmina to start with, and the creak of footsteps on the landing overhead. Kim's voice isn't raised, but it carries down to Nick clear as a bell.

"John, you'll freeze if you stay up here," she says. "Get your stuff and come downstairs."

"It's not that cold," John says, attempting to deflect from one weak excuse with another. "I doubt Nick approved that suggestion."

Well, not technically, no, but Nick had sort of assumed they were already all on the same page. What does John think Nick's gonna do, force him to freeze upstairs so he can hog the fireplace all to himself?

Kim doesn't give the excuses a chance to breathe, replying with parental exasperation. "He and I both agree it's too cold to sleep upstairs." Nick can hear the teasing plain as day when she adds, "Just don't be weird about it."

Sure enough, suggesting John might be making things awkward is enough to get him to shut up and follow orders. Nick briefly longs for the days when John would mutely nod and do as told without any additional goading, but only for a second. Even that is long enough retrospection to remind Nick of how creepy and genuinely alarming it had been. Sure, John might get argumentative or exasperated now, but at least there's an actual person to communicate with. Nick might want to kick his ass more now than before, but he absolutely hated dealing with the hollow-eyed monster John had been.

Besides, it's way more satisfying being a dick to him now that he actually gets offended.

Despite John's furrowed-brow glares, Nick doesn't comment whatsoever on him trailing downstairs after Kim, clutching two actual blankets and a tarp that's weather-worn enough to pass muster. He stands and waits for someone to point him in the right direction as Kim and Carmina do their best to bundle together a soft place on the floor, but Nick studiously ignores him until he makes a decision himself. John takes a spot close to the fireplace, off to the right of where the girls are setting up. It's still plenty removed enough, so that nobody will get the wrong idea and think John is supposed to be welcome down here. Nick wonders who he's trying to convince, but there are so many damn demons in the man's head, it's anybody's guess.

With the fire roaring for the last time that night, all the blankets arranged and everybody looking exhausted despite not doing anything all day, Nick finally gets to crawl into bed and put this whole goddamn blizzard behind him. Hopefully, the weather has the common sense to clear up tomorrow — for now, it's time to shut out the cold entirely.

He must be tired. Nick barely stays conscious as Kim and Carmina climb under the blankets, the cool air rapidly warming as they begin to shift around and get comfortable. He rouses a few times at first as Carmina kicks his leg and Kim bumps into him, but eventually, he finds himself dozing in the silence of a quiet house. Far above them, the wind is whipping through the attic, but from down here, it sounds like a generic white-noise machine; coupled with the crackling fire, Nick is lulled to sleep by the sounds of peaceful normalcy.

Who knows how long it is before Nick finds himself conscious again. Even then, he only wakes enough to hear the dying fire popping by his feet. Maybe he should stoke it. But that would mean moving, and Nick is weighted down on either side beneath warm blankets, so that's a hard no. He tries first to roll towards Kim and Carmina, ready to curl into a ball and conserve even more heat, but his right arm is stuck. It takes a few bleary-eyed blinks to realize what's pinned him down, but he's barely coherent enough to make sense of it.

Sometime in the night, John must've migrated from the no-man's-land he'd made for himself towards the Rye's pile of blankets. Unsurprising, really — but more than a little awkward, given how he's pressed into Nick's side, pinning Nick's arm in place. Worse yet, half of his blankets have been absorbed into the mess that Nick's been using to keep warm, which is going to make extracting himself tricky if not impossible.

While he tries to figure out how to avoid making this mortifying situation worse, Nick watches John for any signs of consciousness. The guy usually sleeps light, but Nick watches his breathing for a solid minute and doesn't catch anything. Either his poker-face is just that good, or John is actually asleep. Deeply, peacefully asleep. Nick had assumed that was impossible.

If Nick were a better person, he'd probably be thankful to see it. Glad to know that John's insomnia might finally be coming to an end. But Nick is mostly just an exhausted, anxious mess, and now he's just wondering how to get out of the situation he's found himself in.

John shifts, and like a guilty ten-year-old, Nick immediately closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep. If he's lucky, John will roll away of his own volition, or at least move enough to let Nick roll over himself. If only he'd decided to sleep on Kim's side — she wouldn't have the same trouble Nick has. She'd just kick him away and be done with it.

Slowly, John moves away from Nick. The relief is short-lived as John pulls back the covers enough to send a cold chill down Nick's side; it's a split-second decision that John immediately regrets, hissing under his breath and letting the blankets fall back into place as he recoils from the freezing temperatures.

Nick can't help his quiet huff of amusement — which is enough to break the illusion that he'd been asleep in the first place. He could probably still fake it, but if he does, John will definitely try to move his blankets, and that is going to be a much bigger problem than tolerating John in his personal space.

"Quit squirming so much," Nick mutters. "Gonna let in the cold."

John is silent and tense beside him, but he does stop squirming. It's like lying near a tense bar of iron. After a brief struggle to figure out what to say, John's embarrassment catches in his voice as he apologizes. "I'm sorry," he rasps. "I — must have been tired."

Nick sighs. "Just don't crush my arm again."

Even though John moves as though Nick threatened him, he stops short of retreating from the blankets entirely. Nick can only imagine how cold it must be — every breath of his that makes it above the blanket-line comes with a faint puff of visible air. No matter how humiliating it might be to cuddle up to Nick, it doesn't seem like John had much of a choice in the matter.

Before John can decide to try escaping again, Nick repeats, "Whatever you do, don't let in the cold."

In for a penny, Nick decides, worming deeper into the makeshift bed so that John can have more room. Rolling over is the easiest way to avoid the mortifying process of finding a comfortable sleeping arrangement. Eventually, they wind up back-to-back; Nick normally wouldn't be able to stand John touching him, but the additional body-heat does a lot to soothe Nick's reservations. Who knew all he needed to tolerate John's physical presence would be cold weather and exhaustion?

The Deputy, probably, which only makes Nick grin in tired relief. At least they would be glad to know that Nick's grown as a person. They'd probably be glad to learn he's finally gotten on-board with not murdering the Seeds in cold blood — even if it took an apocalypse to get there. If they could see the shit he's gotten himself into now, they'd probably...

He sighs. It must be a heavier sound than he imagined, because John whispers, "What?"

"Nothing," Nick says immediately, as default an answer as John's yeses are. But that's not fair, he doesn't think, because they never let John get away with his obvious deflections. As late as it is, it's easy to blame his guilt on his exhaustion. "Just thinking about Rook," he admits.

"Oh."

John is clearly uncomfortable with the topic, but he doesn't react when Nick continues sleepily, "They'd get a kick outta this, is all."

John hums. It's a quiet noise, but Nick can feel it vibrate through John's shirt. If there are two people Nick hates bringing Rook up around, it's Sharky and John. Sure, Sharky's crush was the one that was reciprocated, but Dep had always treated John's flat-footed overtures like creepy compliments instead of outright threats. They'd probably figured John's crush was superficial, whereas Sharky's had been more real than probably anything else Nick had seen the poor sap go through. John's infatuation had been about power, control, and Joseph goddamn Seed. Still, Nick can't help but wonder just how much of it might've been real to John at the time.

"They had a bad sense of humor," John finally responds, quietly enough that Nick almost misses the hurt.

"Terrible," Nick agrees.

When John sighs, Nick recognizes it as a sign of defeat. Whatever he's debating with himself, he's clearly lost. Although he doesn't speak up again, Nick isn't sure he's gone back to sleep. He sure hopes he didn't just instill another restless night in the guy, but that's John's burden to bear. Maybe he can use it to finally find some common ground with Sharky.

Nick isn't even sure that he can fall back asleep, but that doesn't seem to matter. Before he knows it, he's being woken up once more — this time by a glance of sunlight coming in through the upper part of the windows. It's just enough light to wake him, but he spends an exhausted minute staring at the wall over Kim's shoulder as he debates whether or not he's really committing this time. He's going to need to use the bathroom sooner or later — and just thinking that is enough to tell Nick that he's not getting back to sleep again.

John's back is still facing Nick, and Kim rolls away as soon as Nick starts to squirm, which leaves his path to escape much more open than it was a few hours ago. He manages to pull himself free without waking anyone else, but as soon as he does, John worms into the warm spot left behind. Nick should probably be upset, but mostly he just needs to pee. He can kick John out of his spot after he takes care of himself.

Nick leaves the rest of them to sleep as he tiptoes across the living room to the front door. Unfortunately, the door only wedges open an inch before it hits a wall of snow. Unwilling to wake anyone else up with catastrophic noise, Nick heads upstairs, going for the broken window in John's room. It's freezing up here, cold enough to keep meat until spring, and Nick pulls his flannel closer as he crosses the room, trying not to take too much stock of his surroundings. He doesn't care about the tallies John used to carve in the wall by his bed, and he definitely doesn't care to snoop through the pile of clothes that John's been growing in the corner. What he does care about is how easy it is to crawl out onto the roof from the window — after all, this isn't the first time Nick's been snowed in, and he's made escaping his childhood home an art-form.

There's a good three and a half feet of snow on the ground below, blocking any exit from the first floor. At least the gray sky above is calm, and the weather seems to have calmed down some. They'll have to prepare for another couple of inches before the week's out, but Nick bets the worst of it is over. Now he can think about breakfast — more specifically, coffee — and debate the best way to clear the doorways. They need a path out to the hangar, although they can wait another day or two before they'll need to press the matter. Nick's still convinced there's a set of tire chains hiding away in there, but it's not like the roads will be in any condition to drive on for a while yet...

Nick spends so much time thinking about what he's got to do, he forgets to consider how willing the rest of the house will be to pitch in. The top-of-the-snow sunlight isn't enough heat to make up for the lack of a fire, and getting Kim out from under the blankets is gonna be like pulling teeth until he does something about it. Worse yet, John's rolled into the spot Nick had occupied — not exactly sprawled out, or anything, but the guy is irritatingly close to Kim's sleeping back. If he decided to roll one more time, he'd probably end up smacking his face into her shoulder.

Nick considers throwing a fit on principle, but honestly, that's too much work. It's much easier to sulk, glowering at the bed he's definitely not getting back into before getting some logs to stack in the fire. He drops them noisily by John's feet, although he makes every effort not to accidentally pull a Misery on the guy.

The sound of hollow wood clattering on the ground is enough to stir John, who wakes with a sharp inhale, and cause Carmina to groan and turn away from the noise. Kim has probably been awake for a while now, but it won't make a lick of difference until the fire's on.

He turns away to toss the logs semi-haphazardly into the fireplace, then remembers the kindling and turns to get it. John has propped himself on his elbows, but his half-waking confusion causes him to overlook Nick entirely as he stares around the room. Seeing Kim and Carmina asleep next to him is initially met with confusion. He barely seems to recognize the shapes bundled in the blankets, but when he does he recoils in shock. All the nasty comments Nick had thought up take an abrupt backseat as he stops to marvel at the physical repulsion John shows. He's not sure if he should be offended or not. Probably not, but this apocalypse has got Nick wired all wrong.

"She's not gonna bite," Nick says. John whips his attention back to Nick the moment he raises his voice, only for Nick to realize that looming over the guy with a thick block of wood in hand might send the wrong message.

Sure enough, John catches sight of him, jerking back with a startled hiss. " Jesus !"

"Shit, sorry." Nick turns and drops the log, wincing at the noise that he'd moments ago been deliberately making. "Well, judging from that reaction, looks like this isn't the first time a man's caught you in bed with his wife."

John's withering glare is enough to lift Nick's mood right up. He turns his attention back to starting the fire, listening as John slowly shifts his way free of the blankets. Part of him wants to make a few more jokes at John's expense, but that can wait until John's coherent enough to be snide in return.

Nick gets the fire going and turns to follow John, who's made his way into the kitchen to peer out the window. "Completely snowed in," Nick tells him as he gets the instant coffee and the beat-up kettle. "But it looks like the worst of it's over."

"Seems to be," John agrees, adding, "We forgot the shovels in the truck. It's going to be difficult digging them out now."

"Not a lot of other options, unless you wanna stay inside until the big thaw. Don't worry, I'm sure Carmina will be excited to help us dig."

John hums in assent, although his mind seems to be somewhere else. Nick can't help but notice that John's pensive states seem damned near reasonable nowadays. He has plenty to think about, and he seems to be keeping one foot in the here-and-now. He's aware enough of his surroundings that he stops Nick before he can leave John to it.

He tries to stare Nick down, but he can't quite manage it. "Thank you for not..."

John gestures vaguely as the rest of the sentence fails to generate. Nick could probably wait it out, but he's just as embarrassed as John apparently is, and he would rather move past the whole thing.

"Don't worry about it," Nick says. "Just don't get too comfortable cuddling up to me."

Rolling his eyes doesn't hide John's faint smile, but he turns away before Nick can see if it lasts. "That won't be a problem, trust me."

Nick is surprised that he does, even for something as small and inconsequential as a joke. "Grab the mugs when you're done looking for Santa," he says, turning back for the warmth of the fire. A few months ago, Nick might've resented how eroded the line has become between John and his own family, but it's honestly too much work to keep up. At a certain point, they're just going to have to include John in their daily routines — Nick just hadn't expected that point to be made by sharing blankets during a blizzard.

Well, there's one good thing about that, Nick supposes — it means that somewhere up there, the Deputy is watching over them. After all, there's no way in hell random chance has the same shitty sense of humor as Rook had.

[hookedonapirate]

The Princess and Her Sultan

Summary: Crown princess Emma of Misthaven is second in line to the throne, her brother Leopold ll being the first, but her parents see her with a future as a great ruler. King Rumpelstiltskin of neighboring land, strikes a deal with King David, promising to uphold the peace between the kingdoms if Emma marries Prince Baelfire. With the promise of his daughter becoming future queen of the Dark Kingdom, David accepts reluctantly.

Before her wedding day, the princess is kidnapped and taken overseas. She is sold as a slave to a palace where Crown Prince Killian of Neverland ascends his father’s throne and is sworn in as Sultan. Meanwhile, Killian’s mother pressures him to sire a prince and presents him with gifts for his birthday, one of them including a blonde princess from Misthaven. Dazzled by Emma’s charm, intelligence and beauty, he summons her to his bedchambers every night and eventually finds himself casting aside his harem and centuries of tradition.  

A/N: I wanted to clear something up because I think people may have misinterpreted what I wrote, which is my fault because of what POV it was in and the order of the scenes, but I promise there is a reason to my madness. So, what I'm talking about it is, a reviewer had said my notes about Killian taking sterile concubines didn't match what I wrote in the last chapter. That may be true, but what was said about it in the chapter was not coming from me as the narrator, it came from James in Emma's POV. Just because Kira thinks Killian would ask the concubines to become sterile doesn't mean he would, it was just one of her fears because normally she brings him what he wants, and now she wants him to sire a prince, and she doesn't want anything to get in the way of her plans. There is a scene in the next chapter where this is clarified, but because I think I had upset a few over this issue and probably lost some readers because of it, I felt it needed to be said. Honestly, I didn't think really think about it when I wrote it, and anyone who reads my other stories knows that I always have a tendency to write Killian as over the top perfect because that's how I view him, so I never intend to write him as a character who puts a bad taste in anyone's mouth. 

Hopefully, this puts people who were concerned about it at ease, but if anyone has questions about this or anything else regarding this fic, please don't hesitate to leave a comment or shoot me a pm. I had originally wanted to write the women to be naturally sterile, but that was something rare back then, but I realize that sometimes sticking to writing what is realistic is not always the best route to take. 

Thank you @gingerchangeling for your wonderful suggestions and ideas for this story, and also @ilovemesomekillianjones for gifting me with your wonderful editing skills at. I also want to give a shout out to @onceuponaprincessworld for being my sounding board, constant cheerleader and good friend, thank you, darling! This story wouldn’t be the same without these lovely ladies!

And all of you have been so supportive and awesome, thank you all for following along and for your feedback!

Rated: Explicit

AO3 l FF.N I Prologue l Ch 1 l Ch 2 l Ch 3 l Ch 4

Chapter 5

When Emma rushes back to the women’s quarters before she has to be present at dinner with the other concubines, she’s completely and utterly smitten for the Sultan. She’s never felt like this, her skin is flushed, her heart doing a pitter-patter in her chest and her head is spinning. She may have to change her strategy a bit because she knows she won't have to fake any affection she shows the Sultan. The intensity of their kiss is something she couldn't fake if she had truly tried. A passionate, toe-curling kiss was something she’d only heard about from her mother and the maids at the castle. It was something Emma had only dreamt about. And the fact that the Sultan is genuinely kind and sweet and the most handsome man she's ever seen, is a complete game changer. He is all the things Baelfire is not. She'd expected the Sultan to treat her as his property, she could've only imagined that if he'd seen a naked concubine outside of the women's quarters, he'd have raped her and had her beaten, but instead he had asked permission to kiss her and promised to only have her in his bedchambers when the time was right. Emma is still perplexed by this. Obviously, she has formed a very false and narrow-minded opinion about him before ever meeting him.

She has to banish the smile from her lips when she slips into her oda to change out of her damp clothes. She's relieved to find it empty, but to her surprise, Elsa emerges from the curtain before Emma can fetch a dry outfit.

“Where have you been, Emma?” Elsa asks curiously, scanning her clothes and hair before meeting Emma’s gaze.

“Oh, I was just in the bathing area,” Emma replies nonchalantly as she retrieves some dry clothes from her cupboard which is located behind the bottom half of the wall paneling next to her bed where her personal belongings are stored. “I was afraid I'd be late for dinner, so I left in a hurry without even bothering to dry off.” When she turns to face her roommate again, she fears the silver blonde is on to her, judging by her narrowed eyes and questioning half-smirk.

Elsa crosses her arms over her chest, casually making her way towards Emma. “So, what's it like to bathe outside the harem?”

Emma gapes at her friend in surprise. She thought she'd been careful enough to not be seen whenever she'd snuck off. “How do you know I left the harem?”

Elsa gives a soft, casual shrug. “I just assumed since I saw you leaving one day. I followed you to a room and you disappeared into it, so I crept up to the door and saw you at a chess table.”

Emma’s heart flutters in panic “You saw that?”

Elsa nods. “I thought it was odd because there was no one else in the room with you. Were you playing against yourself?”

Emma shakes her head, her eyes laced with apology for not telling Elsa of her escapades. “No, I’ve been playing against the Sultan,” she murmurs, placing the fresh clothes on the bed. She sits next to the neatly folded fabrics, sighing as she looks up at Elsa in shame. “I have been playing chess since I was young so when I saw the chessboard for the first time, it tempted me. Only then did I find out it was the Sultan’s chess game, for it is in his study.” Emma looks down, fingering the material of the dress she will be changing into. “You will not tell anyone, will you?”

Elsa shakes her head. “Of course not. You’re my friend and I do not wish for you to get into trouble,” she assures Emma and lays a hand on her arm. Emma peers up at her, offering a gracious smile.

“Thank you, Elsa.”

“Of course.” A wide grin blossoms over Elsa’s lips, her eyes lighting up with intrigue. “Have you met the Sultan since you’ve been going into his study? Have you ever caught him in there, or has he ever caught you?”

Emma blushes and smiles, shaking her head. “No, he is never around when I enter the room.”

Elsa quirks a brow, a mixture of curiosity and confusion etched in her features. “If you’ve never met him, then why were you smiling when you returned?”

Emma was hoping her friend would not inquire about that, but Emma doesn’t see any reason not to tell her, about the pool anyway. “You promise you won’t say anything?”

“I promise I won’t.”

“I was smiling because I felt freer than I had in months,” Emma claims, which isn’t a complete lie. “I was in one of the gardens when I found a pool. I bathed by myself for the first time since we were brought here.”

Elsa’s mouth opens in a gasp as she plops on the bed, sitting next to Emma. “So that's why your clothes are damp?! Oh, how lucky you are!” Elsa chants enthusiastically. “Where is this pool? Perhaps I will go, too.”

“But you might get in trouble,” Emma laughs.

“So will you!” Elsa exclaims, playfully swatting her shoulder.

“Okay, maybe I will show you one day.”

Elsa claps her hands in excitement. “Thank you, Emma, I look forward to it.”

They’re so immersed in conversation they do not realize someone is listening on the other side of the curtain. The eavesdropper casts a shadow over the red fabric, which goes unnoticed by the gediklis because they are facing away from the curtain. The shadow disappears once they change the topic of conversation and get ready for dinner.

~*~

The early autumn sun is strong, and the fresh breeze does nothing to cool him down or help with the sweat forming at his hairline. The unabating sounds of metal clanging against metal resonate throughout the courtyard, the sunlight’s reflection bouncing off the blades as the two men attack and parry, swinging and blocking, jabbing and thwarting each other’s movements. They move with expert precision, each ducking and twisting when necessary to avoid the path of the other blade.

Killian remembers when he’d held his first sword in his hands, even though he was too young to truly learn much—he was not yet five years old, and he was clumsy back then, for his fingers were small, his muscles weak and the sword heavy. But Killian was the grandson of a Sultan and if Sultans knew anything, it was determination, strength—both physically and emotionally—and how to wield a sword. Killian not only wanted to learn how to use it, but he also needed to learn it.

It meant that for his weakness as a young lad, he had quickly learned what to do with a sword. He quickly learned what it meant to become strong and fight like a Sultan. And yet, at the moment, he feels very weak, though not physically weak; his mind is constantly drifting off to visions of green eyes and golden hair. Emma’s vibrant smile, her beautiful breasts, her alluring scent and the taste of her lips drown him, weakening every part of him.

James swings his sword so quickly, Killian doesn't have enough time to block him, and instead, the Sultan’s sword is knocked out of his hand. Soaring through the air, it lands in the grass as Killian leaps back to avoid the end of James’ blade, falling to the ground with a groan.

James stands over him, holding the point of the blade at Killian’s neck as the Sultan raises his hands in surrender. “You were great with a sword when you were a child.”

Killian frowns at him. “Your words cut like a sword.”

James offers a grin as he removes the blade from the Sultan’s neck and extends his hand, helping Killian off the ground. “You’re still pretty great at it.”

Killian gives in to a laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself. No other man would be able to send me to my back. This moment makes me glad I am not your enemy.”

“I am glad as well,” his concierge chuckles. “Normally, I would not be so lucky to send you on your back. That is what your concubines are for, Your Majesty, is it not?” he teases as they sheath their swords and find a shady spot underneath a fig tree. They relax in the grass where Pages bring them olives, cheese and sherberts. Every day, he and James either engage in sword practice at the palace or travel to the Meydan with their arrows and spears for target practice.

“Indeed you're right,” Killian chuckles, anxious for one concubine, in particular, to have him on his back as she rides him into oblivion.

James drains his silver goblet and selects an olive, chewing it slowly and childishly spitting out the pit into the chalice. “Your Majesty, tell me what troubles you.”

Killian glances at James, catching a knowing smirk on his face. A rosy blush spreads over the Sultan’s cheeks as he scratches behind his ear, a smile threatening his lips. “What gave me away?”

There’s mirth dancing in James’ eyes as he regards the Sultan with a quirked brow. “The better question is what hasn’t given you away .”

Killian takes a sip from his chalice, deciding what he shall divulge to his concierge. The most James knows at this point is that Killian has been playing anonymous chess with one of his concubines, and there is really no reason not to tell him, except he isn't fond of anyone knowing how much Emma has affected him over such a short period of time.

“Since when are you hesitant?” he asks playfully, mocking Killian’s words during a conversation they had a while back.

Killian chuckles and shakes his head. “I am not hesitant… it’s just…”

James playfully cocks a brow and waits for him to speak, but Killian is still uncertain as to how he can precisely explain in words the thoughts endlessly roving his mind. He’s not really sure what to say, which is unheard of for him. He is never at a loss for words like this. He speaks with such confidence and passion at the council meetings in front of his army officers. Killian had told them not too long ago he would one day rule the seven seas, and yet here he is, hesitant to speak of his feelings for a woman to his closest friend. “My apologies, you are so confident today,” James jokes with a soft chuckle.

Killian sighs in defeat as the soft breeze washes over him. “I met the woman I’ve been playing chess with.” The words leave his lips much more weakly than he had intended, and he looks down, picking up an olive and studying it carefully to avoid eye contact with James.

“So she is indeed a woman?”

Killian lifts his gaze and pops the olive in his mouth, carefully removing the pit and discarding it on the silver tray. “She is. Her name is Emma.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard of her from Ruby. She is the one who challenged your partisan policy.”

Killian’s eyes dart to his concierge, although he shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, a woman who dares enter his study would also be daring enough to speak against his policies. “She is the same person?”

“Yes, she is one of the lush gifts your mother will present to you on your birthday.”

“Ah, I see,” Killian nods, trying to remain impassive when in reality, he already knows of his gifts and is beyond excited to have the honor of being graced with his blonde concubine’s presence at his birthday fete.

Nemo had informed him of the virgin gifts the Valide Sultan had requested from him and the great lengths the Chief Eunuch had gone to procure them. He had ensured Killian they were not sterile. Other than that small bit of information, Nemo hadn’t said much about them, only that they were four new gediklis in training, and Killian would not meet them until his birthday. At first, the Sultan had not been very welcoming to the idea of taking concubines who were capable of bearing children, to his bed; he would’ve rather gone to his bed alone to save himself from another possible heartache. He also hadn’t shown favor to the idea of his mother making decisions for him and putting more pressure on him to sire an heir, but that was before he’d met Emma and had come to the conclusion that he wants to start a family.

“Does it disappoint you knowing she is challenging your policies?” James asks, pulling Killian from his revery.

“Not in the least.” A smirk threatens Killian’s lips; if possible, he is even more intrigued by his swan.

James studies him with curiosity. “Do tell how you met her in person, Your Majesty.”

Killian blushes profusely, a bashful smile spreading across his lips as he casts a timid glance at James. “You cannot tell anyone else of this.”

His concierge shakes his head. “Of course I won’t, Your Majesty.”

Killian’s breath quivers as he exhales slowly. “I met her yesterday, she was outside the harem, swimming in the pool.”

A mixture of shock and fascination washes over his face. “Is that so? She does like to test the limits of the palace, does she not?”

“Aye, she does.”

“And what happened when you found her in the pool? How did you know it was your mystery opponent?”

Killian smirks. “I had the privilege of joining her and we spoke briefly before she gave her identity away. She mentioned the gardens, so I told her gardening was my favorite pastime, and she let it slip that she thought chess was my favorite pastime instead.”

James opens his mouth, his eyes dancing with bemusement. “And how did you respond?”

“She feared I would punish her, and perhaps I should have, but James, how could I punish someone who challenges me at a very compelling game of chess? She is currently winning, so I took a break from the game to consider my next move carefully.”

“She is very brave, I'll give her that.”

“She is,” Killian nods in agreement, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips, “and I must admit, her bravery is very attractive. Where did she come from?”

“She’s from Misthaven.”

“Misthaven?” Killian asks, a slow smile curving his lips. “From your homeland?”

James gives a nod. “Yes, and she's a princess, Your Majesty, or so I was told. I was taken from Misthaven long before she was born.”

“A princess?” he parrots, arching a brow. It seems his swan continues to surprise him.

“Yes.” James sends a questioning glance, scrutinizing the Sultan carefully. “So tell me, Your Majesty, how do you feel about the princess?”

Killian’s smile widens, taking over his entire face. “She is beautiful and charming and smart.”

“That I’ve gathered, but how do you feel about her?” James asks again.

“You would really like to know?”

James gives a nod, a smile gracing his lips. “Do tell, Your Majesty.”

Killian has to sift through his thoughts a moment before he can possibly begin to supply an answer. He’s not even entirely sure how he feels about the blonde temptress, or at least he’s not sure how to describe his feelings in words. He lets his mind drift off to the previous afternoon when he’d seen her naked in the pool, and how it felt to be in the presence of his mysterious opponent upon discovering this lovely woman was the same person. He also thinks about his moment of clarity in the pool when she’d left.

“Well…” Killian pauses when his voice cracks, and he runs a hand through his hair, clearing his throat, hoping he can compose himself as he speaks of his feelings for her. “When I saw her, she was naked and her body was exquisite.” A smile pulls at his lips as he stares off into space with visions of her stunning figure on his mind. “My heart was racing, and I felt as if I was drowning. Even though I was above water, I could not breathe. Now I can’t stop thinking about the lovely curves of her body, but I know I must wait to have her until my birthday, out of respect for my mother.” Killian looks over at James and sees him shifting uncomfortably. The Sultan frowns in confusion. “Tell me, my head concierge, why does this topic discomfort you so? Are you not the one who inquired about it?”

James blushes, offing a small smile. “Apologies, Your Majesty, but since she was brought here to the palace as not only a gift for you, but a possible future Kadin, I have no doubt she is exquisite, so I wish to hear more of how you feel about her, rather than her physical beauty.”

Killian nods in understanding, and suddenly the blush floods his cheeks once again.

“There you are blushing again,” James taunts him. “Tell me why she makes you blush.”

The Sultan chuckles. James is right; Killian seems to blush every time he thinks about how he feels about her. He takes a deep breath before answering. “We shared a kiss,” he admits, suddenly becoming shy again. “It was…” He blows out a breath, his mind frazzled from simply thinking about it. “It was life-changing,” is the only way Killian can honestly describe it. “And since then, I have felt… I've felt like for the first time since Milah, I can find love again. I can finally begin to think of starting a family.” He tears up at the idea and looks over at James, afraid of his concierge’s reaction, although he shouldn't be. He knows James only wants him to be happy.

A slow grin creeps across James’ lips. “You can, Your Grace, and you are on your way there. This woman is already affecting you, I could tell before you spoke a word of her.”

Killian raises a brow, surprised. “You could?”

“Well yes,” he chuckles. “I have known you for many years, and never have you allowed me to win at sword practice. Nor have you ever been at a loss for words, so yes I could sense a change.”

“Apologies, my friend.”

Both men push themselves up, ready to head inside the palace.

“Please, do not apologize, I am glad you are finally opening your heart up to the possibilities that await you.”

“Thank you, James.” Killian smiles appreciatively and draws his concierge into a hug. He is grateful for James and the brotherhood they have formed. He is thankful he still has someone to lean on after losing his blood brother and father, and he hopes that one day, the Sultan after him will also have a brother to lean on, whether he is blood or not.

He pats his concierge on the back, and James’ features are creased with confusion as they break the hug. “I would like to say you’re welcome, but I’m not so sure what you are thanking me for, Your Majesty.”

“For making me see clearly again. I have done everything in my power to avoid getting close to a woman again, but you have reminded me why it is important to start a family... and not because I do not yet have an heir, but because I want my children to become as close as you and I are, as close as Liam and I were. I want them to lean on one another, not start rivalries for the throne.” He looks at James and smiles. “You have always been there for me, and I want my children to be there for one another, too.”

“And I will always be there for you,” James promises sincerely, raising his hand to gently squeeze the Sultan’s shoulder. “You will be an amazing father, so I have no doubt you will teach them the importance of family.”

“Thank you, James.”

They walk casually inside the palace, discussing another hunting trip to occupy Killian so he can think of his swan without being tempted to seek her out before his birthday. But before they go their separate ways to prepare for the trip, James turns to look at Killian once more.

“Tell me one more thing, Your Majesty.”

Killian looks over at him, lifting a brow. “What is it you wish to know?”

“How will you continue the chess match?”

A mischievous smile crosses Killian's lips. That is a question he can easily answer, for he knows precisely how to continue it.

~*~

After Emma’s schooling for the day, she heads to the Sultan’s study with butterflies fluttering around her stomach. It’s been three weeks since she had seen the Sultan at the pool, but she hadn’t been able to find an opportune time to leave the harem without anyone seeing her, and she is hoping—hoping might be an understatement—no, she is beyond anxious to see whether the Sultan has finally responded to her previous move or not. She had been too enamored by him and not brave enough, if she’s being honest, to ask why he has not made his next move yet.

Emma steps into the room and approaches the chessboard. Her eyes widen as she scans the board. She is amazed beyond belief, her mouth falling agape, and she has to blink a few times to make sure she is seeing the board correctly. He has left his king wide open for her. Normally she'd think it’s a trap, but once Emma makes this move, the Sultan will be done for, since she can easily sweep in and checkmate his king, claiming her victory. He has let her win. But why? For what purpose? Could he be trying to send her an abstruse message? But what message? Perhaps he is trying to tell her he surrenders to her? And by that, he is also telling her he is surrendering his heart? Or perhaps he is testing her to see if she is willing to surrender herself to him by not taking his king, and then he will sweep in and take her king after she leaves his white one be.

Emma is confused as to how to proceed. She thinks about it for a long while, her lips pursing together as she ponders what to do. If Emma surrenders to him, he will have the upper hand and all of her efforts will have been wasted, but if she wins, she will prove to him she has power over him, and perhaps he will be turned off by her insolence, and he will seek out another concubine? Shall she take that risk? After all, she doesn't wish to be intimidated by him nor feared by him. As James had said, if Killian does not see what value she possesses then he is foolish.

Emma is not vain by any means, but she is well aware of the effect she’s had on men in the past. They had desired her and would’ve gladly taken Baelfire’s place to be married to her. She even thought, at one point, Graham was one of those men. He was a friend or at least pretended to be, but she’d often wondered whether his feelings for her were purely platonic or something more. Emma’s features grow solemn. Thinking about the man who’d betrayed her makes her shiver.

The last time she’s trusted a man, he had let her down. She has put much faith in her uncle and sees her father in him, yet she still doesn't know if he is truly trustworthy or not, though she really wants to believe he is. Emma is not one to back down from a challenge though. Her uncle is challenging her to steal the Sultan’s heart and the Sultan is challenging her to steal his king and simultaneously his own heart. Or so she hopes.

After several moments of internal debate, Emma finally makes a decision. She reaches for her black queen, and as she starts to move the piece, the door flies open, causing Emma to whirl her head around.

Standing at the doorway are Nemo and two guards. Emma releases the game piece, her eyes widening as she stands up. How did they know she was in here? “My apologies for leaving the Harem, I’m afraid I have gotten lost.”

“I’m sorry Emma, but we have been ordered to bring you to the Valide Sultan.”

She nods cooperatively, swallowing thickly. She’d expected this would happen eventually; it's the risk she’s been taking by leaving the harem and entering the Sultan’s study. “Of course.” She quickly moves to the corridor, and with a guard on each side and the chief eunuch following behind her, she wonders how the Valide Sultan knew she was not in the harem. She thought Elsa was the only one who knew. Perhaps someone had noticed she was missing and went searching for her. Emma's thoughts are put on pause for the time being as they reach the harem courtyard where Kira appears to be very angry.

“My Sultana, I am very sorry,” Emma apologizes sincerely, bowing her head. “I wandered off too far and lost my way.”

The woman moves swiftly and lifts Emma’s chin to look her in the eye. “That is enough lies. You have intentionally disobeyed the rules bestowed upon you. Leaving the harem, walking down the golden road without my son’s summons and entering his study?” Kira scoffs, her features twisting in disgust as she releases Emma's chin. “You may be beautiful, but beauty fades over time. And Nemo tells me you have a razor-sharp mind and have excelled in your studies, but intelligence will not warm the Sultan’s bed. We don’t need clever, we need well-behaved, and you are certainly not.”

“But I am well-behaved, Your Majesty, I am just not accustomed to the cloistered life of the palace. I will try harder, I promise.”

“I don’t care for your excuses!” she shouts, her sharp tone startling Emma. “You have no doubt been drummed with the expectations of the palace and are clearly aware of what is forbidden, where you can go and where you cannot! You want to venture off wherever you please, perhaps you will enjoy venturing off to the dungeon.” She looks at the guards and tilts her head towards Emma. “Get rid of her.”

Panic is rippling through her as the guards grab her arms. If Emma's in the dungeon, how is she supposed to dance for the Sultan on his birthday, which is in two days? If she's not there for the ceremony, he will undoubtedly choose someone else to take to his bed, someone who could potentially give him a prince, and her plans will be ruined. Emma's eyes widen in panic as she looks around, seeing Mother Superior and other servants and eunuchs who, judging by their puzzled expressions, clearly do not agree. There is a woman standing beside the Sultana, whom, as her elegant clothing suggests, Emma presumes is the sister of the Sultan she’s heard about, but the young woman appears to be impassive to the whole situation.

“But Your Majesty, she is a gift for the Sultan’s birthday, as you have asked me to procure.” Nemo reminds her in a stern tone, and although he is questioning her orders and has a very strong position as Chief Eunuch, Emma can sense he is afraid of Kira. A smile almost graces Emma’s lips as she looks at him, thankful he is speaking up for her. She prays this will convince Kira, for the Chief Eunuch is correct—the entire reason for Emma being here is so she can be presented on the Sultan’s birthday with hopes of giving him a prince.

“I asked you to bring me the best concubines you could find and you have done a fine job with the others, but unfortunately you have selected this woman poorly. Find an odalisque to take her place.”

Nemo’s fear floats to the surface as he looks at Emma, for he knows she will be impossible to replace. “But my Sultana—”

“Do not argue with me!” Kira snaps angrily. “Take her down to the dungeon and lock her up, or your manhood will not be the only thing you are missing!”

Nemo looks like he has just swallowed his tongue as he nods his compliance. “Yes, my Sultana.” He turns to the guards, gesturing for them to move. “You heard our Sultana, take the girl to the dungeon.”

Emma squirms against them as they pull her out of the courtyard.

“No, you can’t do this to me!” she screams. “Pleeeease! Let me go!”

The Valide Sultan pays her no mind and dismisses the staff from the courtyard. Following behind her mother, Regina has the hint of a smirk on her face, for she is the one who had overheard Emma’s conversation with another concubine about leaving the harem, and waited to witness her leaving with her own two eyes before informing her mother. If this little slave girl thinks she can come and go from the harem and do as she pleases, she is sadly mistaken.

~*~

The day has finally come. It's his birthday, and he's not sure he's been this excited in all his existence. Not only of the possibilities of a future with the swan girl from his harem but also the conclusion of the chess game they've been engaging in. He is anxious to see how she's responded. He had made the move weeks ago before fleeing from the palace for another hunting trip with James. He had been too afraid he’d be tempted to seek her out after their encounter at the pool. Furthermore, he doesn't wish to take another woman to his bed in order to cool the lust he feels for Emma.

As a young Neverland prince, he had been taught the ways of women and had grown to be a healthy and virile man, as Sultans normally are, but unlike his father, Killian has sustained some self-control and discipline when it comes to physical intimacy. Thank the Gods he has, because, after the pool incident with Emma, his patience to take her to his bed is wearing thin. And he had arrived at the stark conclusion that no other concubine will be enough to quell the ache he feels for the blonde houri, so why bother trying when he knows all attempts will prove to be futile? He’d made a promise to himself that not only will Emma be the first maiden he will take to his bed as Sultan, but she will be his first wife, and he doesn’t plan on breaking that promise.

Killian steps into his study and strides over to the chess board, scanning it over. His heart sinks when he sees all of the black pieces are still intact, apart for one piece that is slightly off-kilter. He wonders what had happened. Did she hear someone coming and pause the game to hide? Has she been unable to return from the harem since then? Or did she simply decide not to continue the game with him?

He moves to the door, hauling it open, but pauses before he leaves, turning towards the chess table once more, his eyes studying the piece that had been slightly moved. He’d left his king open, simultaneously laying his heart on the line for her, and returned, hoping she would have responded, hoping she would have laid her heart on the line for him as well. What holds her back from doing so?

Killian steps out of the room and heads down the corridor to his private bath to wash off the smell of sweat, horses and forest from his skin as he ponders the question eating at him. Perhaps it’s the first scenario, and she's been too busy preparing for the ceremony that requires his presence in the Imperial Hall tonight, to return to the game. His mother has, undoubtedly, imposed a mountain of pressure on Emma, the other maidens as well as the servants of the palace to make the event seamless. And perhaps Emma has been too overwhelmed with the expectations of the ceremony and the events that may proceed. Though he is hardly present in the harem, he knows very well of the responsibility drummed into every concubine who enters the harem, to please the Sultan. For someone who’s never been intimate with another, let alone a Sultan, the prospect of the first time can be very frightening to think about. He imagines Emma’s mind is too frazzled with all of these things to worry about a silly chess game.

Yes, he's sure, or at least hopes those are the reasons why his lovely swan has not returned to finish the move.

Tagging: @courtorderedcake@teamhook @onceuponaprincessworld @nikkiemms @followbatb @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @snowbellewells @artistic-writer @ultraluckycatnd @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @lovepurplepumpkins @kiwistreetswan @therooksshiningknight @deathbycaptainswan @tiganasummertree @superchocovian @emeraldwitches

[pebblysand]

On Children.

Last night, when I posted this - the last 15,000 of a 103,087 words journey - I promised myself I’d talk about it - write about it - later. After I’d slept, after I’d been to work, after I’d processed the thoughts in my head.

I barely slept. Shut the lights out at midnight, woke up at two, then at five and stayed awake after that. I’m usually a heavy sleeper. I think it was the adrenaline.

Today, I spent more time on tumblr and my personal email, anxiously refreshing pages for reviews and comments, than on actual work. I’ll admit it’s insecure and weak on my part, but I guess I am of a generation that is in constant need of validation.

I haven’t felt this happy and excited in a long time but let’s be real, I still haven’t processed shit. Who was I kidding? Maybe, it will help to write this out. I guess I am a writer, after all.

I write that (I’m a writer), and think that’s a weird word, all things considered. It refers to a profession but I’m not a professional, and it is still what I do - like to do - with the spare time that I have. You see, sometimes, I have ideas about things that could happen to people who aren’t real and when that happens, I type them out on a laptop and share them with strangers on the internet. It’s a bit of weird hobby, admittedly, but I like it. I’m okay at it. Sometimes, the thought even crosses my mind that I might be good. It mostly happens when I write things like this:

When she thinks about him, she thinks about them and all she sees is children. A boy and a girl and her pale skin against his cheek, pulling at each other’s hair, laughing, loud, like Nick and Niamh on court benches, school benches, and the autumn leaves scattered around their feet.

Or this:

It’s not homesickness, she thinks, it’s just moving on.

I look at those three sentences and I think (because yeah, let’s dive in, shall we? that’s enough of an introduction) that ultimately, this is what all this was about. Those 103,087 words. This fanfiction, as it is refered to, is called Children not because Martha gets pregnant at the end, but because it’s a coming of age story. A coming of age story that involves a couple of forty-somethings who have spent so much time over the last fifteen years working and helping other people grow that they’ve forgot to do it themselves. This fic is as much about the concept of home and career choices and Sean, than it is about Martha and Clive. And sure, it’s about me, too. Because let’s be real, maybe I was going through a bit of a similar thing, at the time I started writing this, and maybe I did Mary-Sue the heck out of it. Who knows?

What I do know, though, is that I love this story. So much. It feels important, and cool, and smart, and funny and the kind of tale that I like to tell. I also know that although I won’t bore you with the details, I wasn’t in great place, this time last year, when I started writing it. Thankfully, I am in a much, much better place now. I frankly thank Peter Moffat, Silk, and Martha and Clive for that. I think this story gave me room to grow, and focus, and believe in myself more than I ever had before. When I started writing it, it was a 10,000 words one-shot that involved Clive breaking into Martha’s flat through the window and a very early version of that last scene in chapter vii. It was cool, too, but not the story I needed to tell.

Then, chapter i came. Chapter i is crap, I know that. I made it a bit less crap by editing it sometime after I posted chapter ii but really, not by much. In its defense, it was written at a time when a) I hadn’t written a word in three years and b) I had no idea what this would all become. I think that when I first published it, I still thought the fic was going to be fifteen to twenty thousand words, two or three chapters at most.

For a very long time, I was terrified of not finishing this fic, actually. I had a lot of comments about that - understandable considering the sad amount of abandoned works on the Silk fandom - and it just made me more anxious very time. That fear did start to go away over time, but surprisingly late, probably around when I was writing chapter ix. Still, I think I still had remnants of that panic up until I actually wrote the words the end at 3 a.m. last Friday. It felt almost surprising that I had, indeed, finished. All the long projects that I’d started before, I’d abandoned, or gotten tired of. At the time, I held it against myself, but coming back to my earlier point, I’ve now realised that they just weren’t my story to tell.

Then, chapter ii came. I like chapter ii. It’s not perfect and would need to be worked on in a future edit, but I like its plot. I like what it says about the show, about Martha as a character and how she breaks down, how we all do, sometimes. It also says something about what often happens to women, sadly, when they do. 

I think this show is important and matters because to me, it talks about something that happens all the time in the legal world and that no show ever touches on. We show the courtrooms and the decorums and the ships, but not happens behind the scenes. Not what I’ve seen. The truth is that when you spend all your waking hours fighting other people’s fights, sometimes, you lose yourself. You breakdown. You burn-out. It’s sort of a premonition but Clive warns Martha about it in the first series, jokingly, sure, but he turns out to be right. That’s what I see in the last episode of series three. As much as I hated the whole courtroom and Micky Joy debacle there, I loved that storyline. I love that she just fucks off. That my ultimate head canon is that she moves to a beach somewhere and opens a café on the coast, pours expressos and chats up tourists all day. Maybe, there, she meets someone. Maybe, she even has a family. But in my head, Children is and always will be a very long AU.

In that AU, of course, she has to stay. And that’s what chapter ii is about, ultimately, about staying when you don’t want to, breaking down and dealing with the consequences. When you’re a woman and you fuck up a bit, the price to pay is sometimes, sadly, very high. So, I tried to show that to the best of my ability. I hope I did a decent job of it. Frankly, I’m not quite sure about how I dealt with the aftermath. I think if I went back and edited, I would probably allow the assault to be more of a recurrent theme in the following chapters. I sometimes wonder if I didn’t deal with it a bit too quickly. But then again, I guess every survivor is different, and there was also a lot to talk about in those next chapters, with Billy and Clive, and Chambers, so I’ll cut myself some slack.

Chapter iii is to me the moment when this fic found its tone and its voice. When Martha and Clive found their voices in my head, too. It was a very difficult chapter to write, I remember, but I think that’s when the fic went from being an extended one-shot to a full blown story, with a plot and character development, and thousands of words, and eleven chapters. That scene at Billy’s grave is one of my favourites.

The one that follows, chapter iv, wrote itself. I barely touched it. I love chapter iv. It’s funny and quirky, and everything I loved about writing those characters I was lucky enough to be able to borrow. I was very insecure about the explicit sex scene in it, but then I felt like that scene was necessary. Again, I didn’t want the only sex in this to be non-consensual. Most often, sex is pleasurable and fun, thank God.

I think when I look back, chapter v is the most personal of them all. Chapter v is what I meant when I said that this fic was about me. Jokes aside, I remember being very nervous about it, wondering if I wasn’t turning a wonderful fic into a horrible, Mary-Sue-d attempt at a diary of my own problems. But then, well, it’s also fiction. My fiction. Because in chapter v, aside from Martha and Bethany’s very short stint, all of the characters are OCs. There’s Martha’s mum (Maureen), and Jo, and Evershed, and Roy. Boy, do I love Roy. Roy is the amalgamation of every man every sixty-something woman in my life has remarried to. He’s not a bad person, he’s just very, very out of tune with current times. Evershed, I don’t have many feelings about. Martha just needed a sounding board. Martha’s mum was probably the hardest to write. She loves her, I think, but I also think they’re very different people. I think they’re linked by what happened to her dad and that sometimes, that gets a bit heavy. And Jo. God, I love Jo. She makes me laugh and sometimes, I wish she was my friend, too.

Again, I was nervous about chapter v and my characters, wondering if people would like them, would like what they said about Martha, about the concept of home, until someone said: "It's like you're writing my life and all the feelings I've had about home and the bar and superimposed Martha Costello on top". I think that’s one of the best comments I’ve ever had on anything I’ve ever written. So, I’m not naming you, you know who you are, and thank you.

Chapter vi was originally very, very long and was then split into vi and vii for readability purposes (I will split xi too, one day, I promise). Yet, in my head, they will always be paired up. 

As I’ve mentioned before, the contents of chapter vii, and especially that last scene with Clive when they decide to “try again”, had been in my head ever since I’d started writing this fic. It was always where this story was going to go and when I published it, it felt good to finally release that, to have it out in the world that yeah, this was going to be that kind of fic, with an argumentative, blond, blue-eyed baby being born the end. Although these two are probably the most important chapters in this fic, I oddly don’t have much to say about them. I guess everything is pretty spelled out in there. Clive and Martha are in love. And they’re going to try for a baby. When I split both chapters, I took the opportunity to put back into chapter vii a bit that I’d taken out in the original editing phase. It’s a scene in which Clive and Martha talk about her father’s disease and she mentions that she took a test, once upon a time (i.e. when she got pregnant), to know if she had it, but never read the results. It’s a letter in her handbag that she doesn’t want to open, but that he wants to read. I think more than the topic itself, it shows how much they love each other, and yet how different they are. Martha got to know about Billy’s health when, in fairness, I don’t think she ever wanted to know. I think she’s the kind of person who only likes to know about things she can deal with or solve. If not, she wants to know late enough so that she won’t have to think about it too much. She’s the kind of person who wouldn’t want to know if she had cancer. Clive does, though. He would have liked to know about Billy; I think it hurt him not to. He would have liked to be prepared.

In my canon, Clive reads that letter and never tells her what was in it. He vouches to keep it to himself, and he does. He likes that he knows, respects her decision not to. He would tell her, if she asked, but she never does. As the writer of this story, I personally don’t know what was on that letter, either. I’ve gone back and forth on it a few times and I really don’t know if she has it. She definitely thinks she does. I think that’s kind of where the smoking comes from. I think she sort of hopes it will kill her before she forgets that it will.

I kind of wish I had found a way to use all of that in later chapters but somehow, after that one, it just didn’t fit within the plot. Maybe it will upon further edits. I don’t know.

Now, chapter viii is cute. Like iv. Still, I wanted it to be mostly about her career and going back to work, rather than about her getting pregnant. I hope that it was. Chapter viii is also where the character of Charlotte makes her entrance and I really like her, I like that she both fits in (through her education, her parents) and doesn’t (through how odd and quirky she is). I think if Martha were to ever go back to work after everything that happened, it would be for someone like that. I like that she’s not Billy, too.

And of course, then, Martha gets pregnant, when she leasts expects it. Because, she had to. As a side note, I love the scene where she "tells" Billy. It feels like a full circle to me.

Circles are not necessarily good, though, are they? ix, oh ix. That, also, unfortunately had to happen. I think Martha and Clive had been very nicely playing house for a while but it just couldn’t go on forever. Mostly, I had to deal with Sean, though. Because Sean, oh, Sean, do I love Sean. Again, this fic, frankly, is almost as much about him and about what he represents (young love, home) than it is about Clive and what he represents. When I wrote chapter iii, I thought I was done with him but then again, when I wrote chapter iii, I didn’t know there would be nine chapters, did I? So, Martha, she couldn’t let go, could she? She had to close that door in order to open another one.  

ix was so hard to write. Mostly because I’m terrible at writing arguments. I had turn it all around for it to make more sense but I feel that somehow, it more or less worked. I guess, you tell me, though.

(As a side note, I kind of like CW’s role in it. She’s not a friend, but she’s not a stranger either. I think that ultimately, she kind of cares about Martha, for some reason. And I love that conversation between Martha and her mum at the end, almost teared up when I wrote it. Again, part of moving on and growing up.)

And then, comes x. It’s a bit of a filler, I’ll admit. A 10,000 words filler. I couldn’t see Clive and her get back together that easily, so things needed to happen in between. I decided those things were court scenes. I was so nervous about those. I’ll be honest and say I have no fucking clue about the UK’s appeals process and probably got it all wrong. I guess that’s the difference between me back when I was still in law school and me now. At the time, I would have done the research. Now, I just don’t care, as long as the drama’s good. If you’re from the UK and thought it was all wrong, my most sincere apologies.

Finally. xi. As I said in my A/N yesterday, there was supposed to be a xii, until two evenings ago, when I realized that there wasn’t. In fairness, I think I’d suspected it for a while. In my head, I’d always thought of xii as some sort of epilogue, with a mix of cute pregnant-Martha scenes and a bunch of more serious ones (the baby’s name, Clive’s priorities shifting). Then, at 3 a.m. on Friday, I understood that a bunch of scenes stuck together do not necessarily make for a coherent chapter. And that I hate epilogues anyway. Finish your bloody story and stick with it, I say. So, the important stuff made it into xi (Clive’s priorities shifting, the baby’s name) and the rest just went to trash. I’m happy with that. In an earlier draft of an outline for xii, I also had a scene about CW prosecuting Brown Hair in an assault case on someone else, but that felt a bit cheap and would have kind of taken away the point I wanted to make with ii, the fact that most of the time, sadly, there is no resolution to these things. So, yeah, I’m happy I didn’t write that in.

I guess I don’t know what I thought would happen when I wrote the words the end after of all this. I think I thought fireworks would be in order, and champagne. Instead, I was alone in my flat on a Friday night, drinking beer and thinking holy shit. I didn’t cry - still haven’t - but I’m not sure all of this has really sunk in, yet, so.

So, what does this all mean? Well, it means that I’ve written a story and finished it. Not a novel, sure, but a story nonetheless, with some characters that were mine and some that I borrowed and it had a beginning, a middle and an end. That feels great. Amazing, in fact, like the top of the world. And yes, in a few years, months maybe, even, I’ll probably look back at this post and think I was full of shit and full of myself. Right now, though, it feels good. I’ve motherfucking done this, you know?

And I acknowledge the fact that there’s still a lot of work to do. Because everything I’ve mentioned I want to make better, want to rewrite (like chapter i, ugh), I’ll do. I’ll let the fic sit, for a while, but I’ve planned to go back to it in a few months (August or September, give or take) and edit. Because frankly, although I love this story to bits, I also know it has flaws. For better or for worse, I’m a perfectionist at heart, so I want to make it the best it can be. That being said, I am very proud of this, nonetheless.

So, yeah, if you’re interested, maybe click again and go back to reading Children this time next year, it’ll probably have changed a bit. If not, that’s alright, please, just don’t hold chapter i against me.

Lastly, again, I’d like to repeat my thanks. To @missmarthacostello for early-fic chats. To @asummerevening for later-fic chats. To everyone who’s read, commented and PM-ed me over the last months and to everyone who will hopefully read and comment and message me in the future. I owe you many. Again, if you have prompts, requests, feel free to PM me, I’m happy to try my best. And lastly, again, thanks to the wonderful @cursedandcharmed without whom, honestly, this would not have seen the light of day. As I said in my A/N, you listened to me rant for a year about something you were not reading and that took place within the universe of a show you were not watching. I can’t thank you enough for that.

So, there. I hope this was somewhat coherent. I honestly tried, to the best of my ability. This fic has taken up so many weekends and hours of my life these past few months that I am unsure as to what comes next, and what one does with so much time on their hands. Again, though, I’ll probably look back at this in a bit and think I was full of shit, so, there’s that.

Thanks again and whoever you are, if you’ve stuck around this long, you have all my love and admiration.

Best,

pebblysand.

[kinetic-elaboration]

October 5: Complete Project List

I feel like I should have spent more time this week reading books and fic because my writing has not been going very well. I just feel so…uninspired. None of my projects are really, I don’t know, calling out to me. I don’t know why.

The only thing I’ve really worked on is my Bellarke High School AU, which I still like, though not as much as I used to. At least that’s something.

I don’t think this is actually going to be helpful but because I feel like I need to be organized and my go-to solution for when I lack focus is just to lay out all my projects in front of me and contemplate them, I’m going to go through my entire current writing folder and see if anything jumps out at me and excites me again.

I currently have 28 documents (though fewer than 28 projects because some of those documents are rejected passages or notes, etc.).

In order of appearance:

HAICG: I really do want to work on this again because it’s been so long and I feel guilty. Also because I had such inspiration and passion for it last summer/early fall. But it will probably require re-reading a big chunk of the fic to get into the style of it again and also I’m not really in ST fandom atm so it’s just...tiring to think about.

The autumn fic: You’d think this would be the perfect time to work on this, it being autumn and all (allegedly) but really I feel nothing for it right now. I still rather like the universe and I’ll probably continue to mess around with it in drabbles and so on, but it was originally conceived of as a multi-chapter fic and that’s…not going to happen anytime soon. It’s one of those ideas that feels very real in my head, strongly atmospheric, but when I try to pin down the plot and put any of it into words…I just lose a lot of confidence in it.

The party fic: I worked on this a few days ago, for the first time since summer, and it was a disappointing exercise. For so long I felt like this was still a front-burner project, even though I wasn’t actually writing it like at all, and now I’ve just realized how far my interest in it and inspiration for it has dropped. I don’t know…I guess I’m not so much abandoning it as seeming it with clear eyes. Low priority.

K/S affair: This really shouldn’t be in my current projects folder. I moved it over from my old projects folder a year ago during my last big ST kick with the thought I might actually work on it but I have not. It’s literally 5 sentences long.

K/S Aftermath story: I’ve been telling myself all year that one day I’m “just going to sit down and write this” and yet. Part of what intimidates me is that I actually did start it but I don’t think I like the beginning so I want to start again, but having a rejected opening puts so much pressure on all subsequent openings not to suck as much. So it’s become a mythical, monstrous thing.

Bellarke Beat AU: So I started writing this in the summer of 2016 during my last Beat phase and I really like what I have! But I haven’t touched it in so long… I tried once but I could see too clearly the seams between the two parts. I feel like one day I’ll pick it up and say “I want to finish this” and then it will be my priority project for a little bit and then it will be finished.

Bellarke Long HS AU: Oh gosh I used to think about this universe a lot when I was in law school. I never got any farther than writing some notes, not even a true outline, but I…just can’t call it abandoned. Initially it was going to be this very ambitious two-part thing but I still hold out hope I’ll write the short one-part thing version. Again, it’s an atmospheric fic that I’m not sure I can actually put into words…

Bellarke HS AU: The only thing I’ve gotten real writing done on in the last week. It’s currently at about 6k words and I’m on the last scene. I imagine it will end at about 8k. Probably my biggest priority if only because it’s the easiest thing I have going at the moment.

BFF Fill: The first sentence of notes on this is so pretentious it causes me pain and I’m the one who wrote it. Which doesn’t mean the actual fic will be bad. I hope. I don’t have a BFF deadline for a while so I’m not worried about it but also I don’t want to constantly do things at the last minute. I’m trying to move beyond that. Currently in the planning stages. I have general ideas and I think I need to distill them into a scene-by-scene outline before I can start writing. (It’s not that it’s that long…I don’t think…just semi-complicated in structure.)

Clarke, Sports Nut: I don’t know why this is a separate document. It’s in the same verse as the HS AU and I’m more than half sure it’s going to be a rejected one-shot opening but I’m keeping it around in case I want to expand it into an actual one-shot.

Dollhouse AU Notes/Chapter 1/Rejected Scenes: I still think this would be such a cool fic. BUT. Every time I start it, I hate it and I need to scrap everything I’ve written. I’ve trashed a huge amount of material by my standards and each time I reject something I lose more hope that it will ever be to my liking. Also, if I did write this for real, it would be an insane amount of work. And the audience for it would probably be small. And the truth is that I’m not sure I could put so much into the actual writing of a fic of this length and complexity for an audience of me. I’ll write smaller fics or even novellettes for an audience of me but some things, the return is just too small… so I don’t know.

Jonty Fluff Fic: I’ve had this idea in my head for a long time—I think it’s actually taken off of one of those AU prompts floating around tumblr—and I actually started writing it after 4x11 because I was so sad and this irredeemably fluffy, guilty pleasure, cotton-candy-in-written-word-form story made me feel better. But apparently I haven’t worked on it since July whoops.

Gina Magical Dystopia: I was going to write this two years ago but my opening sucked and then last summer I brought my notes back and tried to outline it but then I kind of abandoned it again. I’m not going to force it but somehow I think a desire to write it will come back to me sometime.

Bellamy/Jasper Fic: I have a lot of guilty pleasures (I probably wouldn’t feel so guilty for everything if this fandom wasn’t what it is but oh well) but this is probably the guiltiest. The original outline is from April 2016 and last summer I spent an afternoon at the coffee shop actually scene-by-scene outlining it, which means it is basically ready to start. I even wrote the introductory scene but then I scrapped it. The tone was okay but the actual substance wasn’t working for me. So I’d have to start all over. And again, audience of one lol, so there’s that. It’s the sort of thing that if it isn’t completely fun to write there is no point in putting effort toward it.

Jonty Dual Timeline: I had such high hopes for this!! And I still want to write it but I’ve become terrified of it. Terrified I’ve lost the tone, terrified I won’t be able to remember the ideas dumbass-past-me didn’t write down, and of course the passage of time makes the fears worse. It’s been months since I touched it. I think I’d need to sit down, re-read the entire thing, write down any thoughts I can salvage, and maybe rough-outline the rest. Then I can return to writing it.

Old prompt list/old prompt fill: Basically the appendix of this folder. By which I mean, it’s vestigial.

Monty S3 (original and edits): I’ve done one complete read-through of this fic and made some fairly big edits, deleting some parts, re-writing them, moving some things around. I feel like, except for the part in the middle where I made the biggest changes, it reads well. I like it. But I won’t post it until I’ve re-read the entire thing again, preferably in one sitting, and given that it’s 12k long I’ll need to devote a decent chunk of time to that. I’d like to say that this fic I’ve been working on for six months is done, so in that sense it’s ‘urgent,’ but on the other hand I don’t think it’s anything most people will notice.

Sleeping Beauty AU: A request but I’m getting kind of into the idea. Unfortunately (?) my ideas for it are getting ambitious and complicated. It could be so cool! Or it could be something that’s actually finished this decade and I’m just hoping these aren’t incompatible goals. Currently in the planning stages.

K/S comparison: Again, a fic I moved to this folder when I was back into Star Trek in Summer ’16 and feeling ambitious. Aaaaand I just looked at the last updated date. It’s from 2010. That’s wild. I am the slowest writer in the world. Or the most stubborn. Or both.

Story Idea Master List: self-explanatory.

K/S and Spock!Prime: Okay this fic is dumb because it’s FINISHED. It’s been finished for years. I found it in my old writing folder, complete, not posted, and I read it and thought it wasn’t horrible but that the beginning was…actually sort of horrible. So I thought I’d re-write that part and then just post it but it’s not working terribly well and increasingly I just feel like…is it worth it? The fic isn’t that good. But it’s not terrible and it is complete so… I don’t know.

…So yeah as expected this just confirmed what I already knew, that I currently lack inspiration or passion for pretty much any project. AWESOME.