#eleanor’s monthly wrap up

[nebbyy]

How would Baldwin act if reader was on her period cause I know in the medieval period they handled menstrual cycles differently?

King Baldwin x reader - period

A/N: Aww that is so sweet! Yes you're right, it was handled quite differently and if you look it up you'd be impressed of how badass women are to have been handling so much stuff for so long with no recognition until recent times!!

Little info as always, painting is "The Deceitfulness of Riches" by Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale.

Warning: mentions of blood and period-related pain, plus some historical negligence on women's health and that's it

Okay so, in the Middle Ages period was something every woman knew of, but no one ever really said anything about

Up until very late in the time period, women were considered dirty, impure creatures, guilty of committing the original sin and to relentlessly tempt men with their mere existence

Period had become during these centuries a symbol of women's impurity and less than human nature, so they were taught from a very early age to hide it as best as they could

But do I have to tell you that Baldwin could not believe less to it?

Similar things had been said to him and his leprosy, how it was a curse that had been sent upon him by God himself for his own vanity and greed, that he was an impure man just because of something he couldn't actually control

He wouldn't see the negative conceptions of period, he'd only see your pain and discomfort, and that would be enough to tear his soul in half

He'd come up to you, gently wrapping an arm around your lower waist, unknowingly bringing you a little comfort from his mere body heat, and he'd gently whisper in your ear

"My angel, I know you're fatigued right now. Go back to our chambers and tell me what you need, I'll provide for it all in a second"

You'd try to reject the offer and change subject out of modesty and embarrassment. There's no need for his help, really, you're used to this like any other woman, the last thing he needs to worry about is your own discomfort

He, of course, wouldn't listen and just escort you to your silky bed where he'd almost force you to lay onto

He would ask you if you're too cold, too hot, if you're hungry, what you'd like to eat then, if you're thirsty, if you need company and loving touches or if you'd rather be left alone

Anything you ask for, you'll get in no time

It would probably end up with him lying next to you, gently putting a warm hand on your pelvis while he held a book on the other one, reading out loud so that you could relax and distract from your pain and discomfort

And once you fall asleep and his servants would loudly announce that dinner is ready and waiting, he'd quickly put a finger to his lips, urging them to be quiet as the love of his life is resting

This would go on for as long as you need, whether it's as long as your period lasts or just the first days. Whatever, really

Because, yes, period was considered a punishment for the sins and impurity of all women, but with Baldwin that definition could never resonate, for you're the purest, most perfect creature living in his life, and he sees this monthly occurrence as a divine test to your soul and spirit, a test he'd gladly help you through anytime

[seiya-starsniper]

I wish you would write a fic where...

…Hob is a little insecure about his body in comparison to Dream. Dream is wondering why his love only wants to have sex in the dark…

I need some hurt/comfort 🥹

Oh man friend, I started writing this thinking it wouldn't be super long and then 9.7k words later...😅

Still gonna post the whole thing on tumblr since this IS a tumblr prompt, but it's probably best read on AO3 for length reasons lmao. I hope you enjoy this angst train!

Cruel Summer - AO3

Also tagging @dreamlingbingo as I'm using this fill for my free space!

-----------------

The first time it happens, Dream doesn't think too much about it. There's not a lot of thinking going on period, not really. Dream's only focused on the touch and taste and feel of Hob Gadling’s body against his as they drunkenly make out against the latter’s front door.

They’d been out tonight celebrating with their friends, all of them having finally achieved some hard earned life goal. Matthew and Jessamy were engaged, and planning a marriage out on Cape Cod the following summer, Lucienne had gotten promoted as an archivist at Harvard, Mervyn had finally launched his own cybersecurity firm, and Dream had just signed a publishing deal for the novel he’d been working on for the past two years. His editing team was even based out of Boston, even if their main headquarters was in New York, which made Dream’s life much easier. 

Hob…well. Hob’s celebration was more muted than the rest. He’d just landed a job at Harvard as well, working as a professor, so he and Lucienne were now technically coworkers. And while it was a fantastic opportunity with decent pay, and mostly free summers, it had come at the cost of his relationship with Eleanor, his longtime girlfriend. 

Eleanor had accepted a job across the country working as a marketing lead for a lifestyle clothing brand based out of Seattle. She’d wanted the position more than anything, but Hob hadn’t wanted to move, so they broke up. Hob insists it was all amicable, and that he’d miss everyone too much if he’d actually left, but they all knew Hob had been thinking about proposing.

Dream knows all this, and yet, when it had just been the two of the left at the bar and Hob had started openly flirting with him alone, instead of just playfully flirting with every single one of their friends, Dream had decided, “why not”, and matched the other man’s energy until they were suddenly making out just outside the bar while they waited for the Uber Hob called for them. It’s still the beginning of summer and not terribly hot outside, but Dream’s still grateful for the cool AC of the car that eventually comes to get them to drive the short distance back to Hob’s apartment.

When Hob finally unlocks the door and they practically fall into the front hall, Dream messily kicks off his shoes and works his way towards undoing Hob’s belt in between kisses. Hob wrangles them down the hall and towards his bedroom and Dream thinks vaguely about turning on the lights when they finally cross the threshold. But then Hob pushes him down into the mattress and Dream stops thinking about anything at all. 

-----------------

The second time that it happens, a little over a month later, Dream is helping Hob clean up his apartment after their monthly movie night with their friends. They had all decided on rewatching Jurassic Park after Mervyn and Lucienne had gotten into a debate on whether or not dinosaurs looked stupid with or without feathers. But it had taken the group some time for them to even start the movie, since they had mostly gotten wrapped up with different bits of work and life gossip. It was rare that they were all able to get together like this, so the movie was a secondary concern for them.

During the movie, however, Matthew and Jessamy’s wedding planner called them about something that needed their attention immediately, and though they said it was fine to keep the movie running, they’d paused it anyways. Not even ten minutes after they wrapped up their call, Mervyn had to take a work call from a client suffering from some server issues. 

Needless to say, it was nearly midnight by the time they finished the movie, and since only Dream and Hob had nothing to do the next morning, Dream had offered to stay late to help clean up and then crash on Hob’s couch for the night.

That is, at least, the story they tell their friends. The dishes and the food end up abandoned as Hob pushes Dream into the couch cushions and palms his cock through his black jeans. Dream moans and ruts beneath the other man, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling Hob in for a desperate, filthy kiss. They make out like teenagers for what seems like hours, the taste of buttery popcorn and overly sweet margarita mix mingled in every kiss. Dream isn’t nearly as drunk as he was that first night, but he’s got a pleasant buzz going, which really only adds to the whole illicit nature of what they’re doing. Neither of them had mentioned the first time they’d fucked to any of their friends, they’d barely talked about just between the two of them, really. 

Dream had figured maybe they could talk about it tonight after everyone had gone home but well. He’d gotten distracted with Hob’s mouth.

When they finally move from the couch to the bedroom, Dream turns the lights on, but then Hob turns them right back off as Dream’s getting undressed. 

“Are you one of those people who prefers to have sex in the dark?” Dream asks, laughing as Hob crawls on top of him, shedding his shirt and underwear along the way. 

“Mmmm,” Hob says, putting his mouth on Dream’s neck instead of answering the question. Dream gasps as the other man bites down on that one sensitive spot just below his ear. “Don’t wanna get up later to turn them off.”

Dream hums, and that’s the end of that conversation as his mind floats away to far more interesting pursuits.

-----------------

The third time almost feels like a date. Almost. They don’t exactly plan to get together, just the two of them, it just sort of happens because Matthew had gotten sick, and Jessamy hadn’t wanted to leave him alone to fend for himself. She also wasn’t entirely sure if she was contagious herself and wanted to be safe. Mervyn was on call for a client this weekend so he wasn’t going out with them anyways, and Lucienne had decided she’d rather stay at home and catch up on some of her backlogged work rather than attend the Oktoberfest event they’d all bought tickets to. 

Hob had texted Dream individually and suggested they go out anyway, just the two of them, and Dream’s heart had stuttered in his chest when he’d read the message. Hob had suggested a new restaurant that had opened up near his apartment, and while it wasn’t necessarily a first date sort of place, it was still a bit nicer than any of the places they’d go with their friends for just drinks or a quick bite to eat. 

Dream agonizes for over an hour on what he should wear, before he ultimately defaults to what feels most natural to him, black jeans and a solid black polo instead of his usual band t-shirt, which he then pairs with a charcoal gray blazer, just to look a little nicer. But not too nice, just in case this isn’t a date. 

Hob, much to Dream’s disappointment, is in his regular outfit of a graphic tee and sweats when Dream arrives. He’s not terribly out of place in the restaurant, but he’s clearly not dressed to impress. He eyes Dream very appreciatively though, and doesn’t comment on why Dream’s a little more dressed up than usual. What he does do, however, is spend the evening whispering into Dream’s ear about how he’d like to peel that blazer off Dream and make him wear it while they fuck.

They only make it through a single round of drinks before they leave, with Hob leaving their server behind a more than generous tip for wrapping up their bill so quickly. 

Hob wastes no time divesting Dream of his blazer and tossing it down the hallway towards the bedroom before turning his attention back to kissing Dream senseless. He sinks to his knees and Dream moans as the other man then works at peeling his jeans off so he can blow Dream right in the front hall, up against the front door where anyone can walk by and hear. It makes everything that much hotter.

Later, when all Dream is left wearing is his blazer and nothing else, Hob gets up from where they’re kissing on the bed to turn off the lights and Dream frowns.

“You can just leave the lights on,” Dream says, before he coyly spreads his legs and shows off his best seductive pose to tempt Hob back to bed. Hob stares, transfixed at Dream’s posturing, before he huffs and then clicks off the lights anyways. Dream groans in annoyance and Hob laughs before he kisses Dream again.

“Sorry, just easier with the lights off,” Hob says, not sounding sorry at all. “Don’t worry about it too much.”

But Dream does worry. He doesn’t in the moment, but he does later, when they’re lying beside each other, Hob snoring away while Dream thinks and thinks and thinks. He thinks about how Hob always wants the lights off, and how he never cuddles with Dream after sex. He thinks about how they really only ever get together when it's convenient, but they've never made plans on their own, at least, not since Hob and Eleanor have broken up. 

Dream realizes, with a growing dread, that maybe Hob still isn't over Eleanor, that maybe all there is between them is sex, and nothing else. It makes an awful sort of sense; in the dark, Dream can't tell if Hob’s thinking about someone else, hoping for someone that's not Dream. Eleanor and Dream couldn't be anymore different but that hardly matters to a man with a broken heart. A warm body is a warm body after all, and Dream's the only other single person in their friend group.

If Hob's a little bit confused as to why Dream is a bit short with him in the morning he doesn't show it. Somehow that makes the pit in Dream's stomach worse.

-----------------

The fourth time—there isn’t a fourth time because Dream fucks it all up.

Dream had met with his publisher earlier in the day, and the meeting had gone rather…poorly. His editor had straight up told him that he’d needed to make significant changes to the book, and Dream had argued until he was hoarse but to no avail. He’d then been told to go home and sleep on things, effectively being dismissed like a petulant child who’d thrown a tantrum in public.

Dream knew he had a good story. He also knew that some of the suggested changes were good ones, while others would fundamentally change the story he was trying to tell. But still, the sheer amount of changes had overwhelmed him, and Dream had lost his temper. He already knows, with a growing dread, that he’ll have to make some apologies the next day.

He’s about to go home, but Dream decides instead he’d like to get as drunk as humanly possible to wash the bitter taste of the day from his mind. He texts the group chat, and since it’s a Friday night, they all respond with enthusiasm to blow off some steam for the weekend. Everyone except for Hob, who says he’s not feeling like socializing tonight, but he’s sorry Dream had such a shitty day. 

Dream tries not to be disappointed that Hob won’t show up. He wonders if he’d just invited Hob by himself, instead of texting their group, would he have come out, just for Dream? But they don’t do things like that, even with how long they’ve been friends. Before they started sleeping together, Hob and Dream had always just sort of existed together in the same circle of friends. Dream had actually met Eleanor first, and Hob only when they started dating. Dream has never spent any amount of alone time with Hob before now, and he still doesn’t know what sort of relationship they even have, if any at all. 

Dream’s worries leave his mind when the others show up. Mervyn stays for only one round of drinks, and Matthew and Jessamy only two before they head out for the evening. They have an early appointment with the planner the next day to do some cake tastings. Lucienne stays the longest, though she really only nurses the same glass of wine the entire night. She talks Dream through his frustrations with his editors, and his overall story. She’s been with him every step of the way to getting this publishing deal, and Dream hasn’t told her yet, but she’s going to be the front page of his acknowledgements. 

He’s so tempted to unload on her about Hob as well, but before he can gather the courage to broach the subject, she gets a text from someone and blushes furiously when she reads it. Dream pokes and prods until she admits she’s started seeing someone. Johanna. She’s not sure if it’s serious yet but well. They’re definitely physically compatible, and while she won’t show Dream her phone, he already knows she’s been sent something particularly provocative. So Dream lets her go, and then debates between ordering another drink or going home. 

He does neither of those things, and instead pulls out his phone and texts Hob, outside their group chat. The alcohol has more than loosened Dream’s inhibitions and right now, he’s lonely and horny. Lucienne’s reserved but still elated expression as she had happily explained Johanna had made Dream miss Hob. So he texts the other man and tells him he’d like to come over.

Hob’s response isn’t what he’s hoping for: are you drunk?

Dream frowns at his phone and then his initial message: aree tou busy?? Can i comeocer?

Okay, maybe he was a little more drunk than he realized. He asks Hob if it matters, being careful this time to make sure he types everything out carefully, and then closes out his tab while he waits for a response. Nothing comes. Dream’s annoyed and disappointed, but not surprised, so he starts to make his way to the train platform to head home. 

While he’s waiting, he finally gets a response back from Hob: okay. come over.

Dream changes platforms immediately and heads in the direction of Hob’s apartment. 

When he arrives, Hob pushes a glass of water towards him, which Dream drinks down greedily. When he’s done, he joins Hob on the couch and crawls into his lap to kiss him, but Hob pushes him away after only a few moments. Dream lets out an annoyed noise when Hob does it again. 

“Dream, not tonight,” Hob says, pushing him away when Dream tries to kiss him again.

“What do you mean?” Dream asks, now confused. 

“I don’t want to have sex right now,” Hob replies, before he pushes Dream off of him and back onto the couch, going back to watching whatever crime drama he’d had on before Dream arrived.

Dream stares, open mouthed and hurt, as Hob decidedly ignores him for Netflix. He gets up angrily and stomps around the kitchen, tearing open the cabinets looking for something to eat, and also more water because now he has a pounding headache as his body struggles to sober up now that he’s no longer drinking. 

“Dream!” Hob exclaims, getting up when Dream slams more than one cabinet door closed. “Come on, don’t be like this.”

“Like what?” Dream sneers, stuffing a potato chip into his mouth angrily. “I came all this way just to fuck you, didn’t I?”

“You’re drunk,” Hob points out.

“I’m always drunk when we have sex,” Dream argues, crossing his arms, chip bag still in hand. “You’ve never had a problem with it before.” 

“Yeah well, I’m not drunk now, and I’m also not in the mood,” Hob replies angrily. 

“Then why the hell did you invite me over?” Dream growls. 

“I don’t know!” Hob exclaims, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I wasn’t thinking, obviously,” he adds, then gestures to Dream. “How was I supposed to know you’d be like this?”

Dream huffs, then carelessly tosses the bag of chips onto the counter. A few stray chips scatter across the counter, but Dream doesn’t care. Clearly Hob didn’t want him around, not for sex, and definitely not to comfort Dream after the awful day he’d had, so there was no point in staying. 

“Fine, I’ll go,” Dream says, moving towards the door where he’d kicked off his shoes. He decides he’ll check the train times on the walk over.

“Dream,” Hob says, grabbing his arm before he can make it to the hallway. “It’s late. Come on. Let’s go to sleep.”

“I can get home on my own just fine,” Dream argues, raising his chin defiantly.

“No,” Hob replies, his voice stern as he grips Dream’s arm tighter. “Come on, let’s just go to bed. You need to sleep this off.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Dream says, yanking his arm out of Hob’s grip. “Since you’re not interested in fucking my bad day out of me.”

“Dream, stop being so fucking difficult!” Hob yells, shocking both of them.

The echo of Hob’s roar hangs tensely between them, and Hob steps back from Dream with a hand over his mouth, clearly horrified at what he’s done. Dream also feels the prick of tears in his eyes as he processes just how angry Hob actually has been with him all night. 

How the hell had this night gotten worse? Dream doesn’t know, but what he does know is that he needs to leave before he starts drunkenly crying in Hob’s apartment, and Hob is the last person Dream wants to see him like this. 

Dream tries making his way towards the door again, but Hob seems to regain his senses and physically blocks him. Dream tries to push him, then tries to hit Hob’s shoulder to make him move, but Hob grabs Dream’s wrist to stop him. 

“I’m sorry,” Hob says, his voice much softer this time, laced with regret and pity. Dream hates it. “I lost my temper, I shouldn’t have done that,” he adds.

“Fuck off!” Dream yells, and oh. No. No, no, no, no. Dream furiously blinks back the tears before they can start falling, even if he can’t stop the pained hiccups that betray his emotional state from leaving his mouth.

“Just—” Dream gasps, then forces himself to breathe, slow and deep, and then counts to five. “Let me go home. You don’t—” his breath hitches again, cutting off what he wants to say. Fuck. He couldn’t even string together a full sentence if he tried.

“Dream, please,” Hob replies, his voice practically begging now. “Don’t leave. I don’t want you going home alone like this.” Dream turns to meet Hob eyes, and his anger dissipates slightly when he sees how devastated Hob looks. 

Despite how awful Dream feels, even he knows it’d be a mistake to go home in his current state. He’s highly emotional, drunk, and likely wouldn’t be paying attention to his surroundings. He could get mugged, or worse. 

“Fine,” Dream finally relents. Hob lets out a sigh of relief, and hugs him. Dream doesn’t hug him back. He’s still angry after all. 

But Dream lets Hob wrangle him down the hall to the bedroom, and then he strips down to his underwear to sleep, since he doesn’t have any of his own clothes here. And why would he? It’s not like they’re anything other than an occasional hookup after all. 

Hob does offer Dream a shirt and pajama pants to wear, but Dream tosses them away from him without so much as a second glance. Hob sighs at Dream, and then shuts off the lights, turning away from Dream without another word to sleep. He’s clearly still frustrated with Dream too.  

Dream lies there next to Hob, feeling cold and rejected and lonely. He hates everything about this. Hates that Hob let him come over and make a fool out of himself when he could have easily just told Dream to fuck off and go home instead. Hates that Hob even came onto him in the first place, all those months ago, and now they’re here, in this weird in-between state where they're together but not together. 

Dream realizes too late that he really hadn’t cared if they had sex or not either. He’d wanted comfort more than anything, comfort from Hob specifically. But the only comfort he knew that came from Hob was sex. And that’s the worst part of it. Dream knows now, without a doubt, that he has feelings for Hob. That he wants more out of this than what they’re doing now, but he’s not sure Hob does. At this point, he’s too afraid to ask. 

Hob’s bedroom suddenly feels like a suffocating prison as all of Dream’s feelings hit him at once. He’s going to cry again if he stays, and he really doesn’t want Hob to see him like this. He doesn’t want Hob to know just how badly he’s gotten under Dream’s skin. 

Dream realizes he needs to leave. He’s stone cold sober now, having laid here in the dark with nothing but his thoughts and his third glass of water now emptied on the bedside table. He listens carefully for the evening out of Hob’s breath, then shuffles around in bed to see if any of his movements disturb the other man. When he’s certain that Hob is deep in sleep, Dream hurriedly dresses himself, checks to see that there’s still trains running this late at night, and then rushes out when he sees the next one is in just 15 minutes. Hob lives about 12 minutes from the nearest station. Dream can make it if he runs. 

The front door slams loudly behind him as he leaves, but Dream doesn’t care. Hob probably won’t even notice that he’s gone. 

Dream makes it to the station just as the train is pulling into the stop. As he’s getting on, he hears yelling and frantic running, the sounds of someone about to miss the train.  Dream considers holding the doors until he sees just who's rushing towards the train.

It's Hob. Hob who is barely dressed, and running down the steps to the train platform in nothing but sweatpants and slippers. He catches Dream's eyes and waves frantically to get his attention. Dream’s heart flutters momentarily, and he imagines that maybe he was wrong about everything after all. That maybe there’s more to what’s been happening between them than just rebound sex.

Dream gets on the train anyways, and the doors shut just as Hob reaches the platform, and the train pulls away. 

-----------------

They pretend like nothing is wrong after that night. Hob had texted Dream the next morning to ask if he’d gotten home okay, and Dream had left him on read. He had far more important things to worry about that morning, like his pounding headache and the fact that he needed to talk to his editor at some point.

When he finally fights off the last of his hangover, Dream has a much more pleasant conversation with his editing team, who he apologizes to for losing his temper. His team apologizes to him as well, which he doesn’t expect, but they reassure him it’s their job to encourage him, not discourage him from writing. They have a candid conversation about communication, and then agree on a plan to move forward with his book.

Dream happily shares the good news with his group chat, still ignoring the direct message from Hob. He credits Lucienne for talking him off the ledge the night before, and the flood of positive and congratulatory messages flows easily after that. Even from Hob. 

Dream sighs when he reads the other man’s message in their group chat, then flips back to their private conversation. He really should apologize for his behavior as well, but he has no idea how to explain himself without revealing more than he’s comfortable with. So Dream turns off his phone, and goes back to working on his novel, hoping that maybe he’ll come up with something to say later in the evening.

He never does end up replying. Hob doesn’t privately message him either after that.

-----------------

It’s trivia night at the White Horse, and Dream would normally be excited to go and show off his arcane knowledge, but tonight he’s dreading the occasion. It’s been a month since he and Hob had last seen each other and he really has no idea how he’s supposed to act around the other man. Do they pretend like nothing ever happened between them? They haven’t spoken since, so things were clearly over between them. 

Dream’s still trying to tell himself it’s better this way. They were hurtling towards disaster, and Dream should’ve really known better, should’ve known that he really can’t do casual after all, and now he’s probably permanently fucked up his friendship with Hob because he couldn’t keep his own feelings in check. He still hasn’t apologized, he doesn’t know if Hob even wants an apology from him at this point, or if he just wants to forget about everything that ever happened between them. 

So when Dream’s sister texts him and tells him she’s in town for a few days, Dream jumps at the opportunity to meet her and cancel on trivia night plans. He receives a variety of boos and ‘we’ll lose without you!’ responses, all of which make him smile despite himself. Even Hob laments the loss of Dream’s knowledge for the evening. 

When Dream arrives at The New Inn later that night, it’s not only his sister that greets him. Eleanor is with her. Dream hasn’t seen her since she and Hob broke up. When she’d moved across the country, she left the group chat and hasn’t really talked to anyone since. Dream had missed her, if he were being honest with himself. Even though Hob had said the breakup was amicable, and that Eleanor had only left the chat because she couldn’t be part of their plans any longer, Dream was still sad to see her go. He realizes he could’ve tried harder to keep in touch with her, but then everything with Hob had happened and well.

Dream wants to hug Eleanor and also scream at her. Wants to unload what a horrible last month he’s had, and also wants her to never find out he’d been sleeping with her ex. It’s not her fault that Dream fell into bed with Hob knowing he wasn’t over his relationship with her yet. It’s entirely her fault for being so perfect, however, that there’s no way Dream could ever compare, and that’s why Hob won’t look at him when they have sex. 

When they had sex. Dream and Hob have barely spoken since that night, and only in their group chat. He’s pretty sure Hob doesn’t want to even be in the same room as Dream right now, for how ugly Dream had acted over what was supposed to be just a casual hookup.

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you, Ellie,” Dream says, giving both her and his sister a hug before taking a seat across from them. “But what are you doing back in town?”

“Dream—” Didi starts, but then Eleanor places a hand on her shoulder and stops her.

“We’re dating,” Eleanor says bluntly, moving her hand from Didi’s shoulder down to her hand. Their fingers interlace and Dream’s eyes boggle as he looks between them, shocked.

“When did this happen?” he asks, settling himself in for what must be an extremely interesting story.

Eleanor and Didi take turns recalling the story of how they met through a local meetup for knitters in Seattle, and how Didi had recognized Eleanor from one time she’d come out drinking with Dream and his friends years ago. Happy to have a familiar face, Didi and Eleanor had become fast friends, and they both realized they had a lot in common too.

Before either of them knew it, Eleanor was inviting Didi out everywhere as they explored their new city together, and Didi became accustomed to calling Eleanor after every shift at the hospital. One thing led to another, and then another, and now they’re practically attached at the hip. Didi even shyly admits they’ve talked about moving in together. 

The two of them beam at him when they’re done with their story and Dream wants to congratulate them. Wants to be happy that his favorite sister is dating one of his oldest friends. He wants to make plans to visit them in their new home, maybe even help them move if he can work out the logistics. He hasn’t been out to Seattle in some time, and he really could use a vacation.

“I started sleeping with Hob after you left,” is what Dream says instead. 

Eleanor spits her (thankfully white) wine all over Didi, who freezes in place, staring at Dream in shock. Dream stares back, horrified both at what he just said, and what followed after. He braces himself, expecting Eleanor to explode on him, to call him a slut, a bad friend, a terrible human being.

Instead, Eleanor starts laughing. Didi does too eventually.  

“Oh my god, of course he did,” Eleanor wheezes as she doubles over in her seat. Their server rushes over, bringing some extra napkins and Didi excuses herself to the restroom to wipe off the rest of the wine. Dream and Eleanor are left staring at one another in silence, before Eleanor breaks the tension with another giggle.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I’m not laughing at you, really, just the whole situation. Imagine if you brought Hob with you tonight?” she practically squeals.

“I—you’re not mad?” Dream asks, more shocked than anything. Eleanor just shrugs and drinks from her water glass this time, instead of her wine.

“I mean, did Hob at least wait a day before he tried to make a move on you?” Eleanor asks. “Not that it matters really, we were broken up before I left but well, you know. Respectful turnaround time and all that.”

“I—” Dream stutters, trying desperately to recall when that first time with Hob actually happened. “I mean, I think it was a few weeks after you left?”

Eleanor snorts. “Good enough, I guess.” 

“Sorry,” Dream says, shaking his head as Didi returns and sits back down next to Eleanor. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. Did you know he wanted to—?”

“Oh no, no,” Eleanor says then starts laughing again. “Our breakup wasn’t planned or anything, don’t worry. It’s just that, well. He told me he wanted to stay with you guys more than me, so I’m not that surprised?”

“What?” Dream says, dumbly. “But you both said the breakup was mutual.” Eleanor sighs.

“I mean,” she replies. “It was technically mutual. But Hob wanted to stay in Boston, and I didn’t. And one of our last arguments before I left was about abandoning our friends.” She shrugs again. “I love you all, don’t get me wrong, but I really love living out in Seattle more. Especially the company.” She smiles at Didi, who kisses her on the cheek. “It kind of sucked that Hob really didn’t want to move, but it wouldn’t have been fair to ask him to do it all just for me and my career goals.”

“Oh,” Dream says dumbly. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Dream wouldn’t have wanted to leave Boston for any reason either, so it makes sense, he thinks. Boston is just that. It’s home.

“It’ll make double dating a little weird, though,” Eleanor adds, and Didi laughs. 

“I think we’ll be fine though,” Didi adds, then turns her focus to Dream. “So tell us about you and Hob,” she says.  

“I—we’re not,” Dream stammers, unsure of how to proceed further with the conversation. Eleanor and Didi’s expressions both fall.

“Oh, Dream,” Didi says, reaching out to take his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“It’s fine,” Dream says though he feels anything but. “I don’t—it didn’t last long between us,” he admits. 

“Wow, he fumbled the bag on you?” Eleanor interjects, shock clearly painted on her face. “My god, he really is an idiot.”

“No I—we had a fight,” Dream says, unsure of why he feels the need to clarify. “It was my fault really. I shouldn’t have—he wasn’t ready to commit.” 

Eleanor makes a confused face. 

“That—doesn’t sound like Hob,” Eleanor says after a moment, and Dream huffs in annoyance.

“You only knew him while you were dating, how would you know that?” Dream retorts.

“Because he told me he’s never done casual,” Eleanor replies. “When we first started seeing each other, he basically said just that. That’s what I liked about him, he wanted to do the whole commitment thing right away, even if it didn’t end up working out.”

“Well maybe he’s changed,” Dream says, far more grumpily than he intended. “He’s never said shit to me about anything, and still hasn’t, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Dream,” Didi says gently, squeezing his hand. “Are you okay?”

“It’s fine,” Dream insists, not wanting to go into the details of how he’d terribly fucked up his situation with Hob. 

“You don’t sound fine at all,” Didi replies.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation at dinner though?” Eleanor interjects, looking concernedly at him. Dream huffs and then pouts. Eleanor was always hyper attuned to when people were upset, especially Dream.

But Dream does want to talk about it, even if it is a bit awkward, all things considered. Eleanor seems to at least be willing to hear Dream out, if nothing else. 

They wrap up their bill quickly, taking some of their dinner to go, and find their way over to Dream’s apartment, where he spends the rest of the night wrapped up in a blanket while he recounts the past six months to his sister and Eleanor. There’s also, perhaps, a lot of wine involved. Solely because Eleanor had decided it was also girls night and they needed a lot of wine for a proper one.

“I’m going to murder him myself,” Eleanor says, holding up her bottle of wine when Dream finishes telling her everything that had happened up until now. 

“El, no,” Dream whines. He’s really more embarrassed about the whole situation now than anything. Talking things over with the two of them had really helped, and Dream wonders if he should’ve talked to Lucienne, or even Jessamy and Matthew to start. Maybe he wouldn’t have let things go so far the way they did between him and Hob.

“Nah, he deserves it,” Eleanor replies, taking another swig from her bottle. 

“It’s really my fault,” Dream tries to insist, knowing it’s useless to defend Hob to his own ex. “I knew he wasn’t over you and I—”

“No, Dream, listen to me,” Eleanor says, taking Dream’s face in her hands. “He never—” she turns away from him suddenly and then burps. Dream laughs, despite himself. 

“He never what?” Dream asks when Eleanor turns back to face him. She sighs.

“He never told you why he turns off the lights, and that’s on him,” Eleanor tells him. 

“I—what?” Dream says dumbly. Hob turned off the lights with Eleanor too?

“Yeah, he—” Eleanor hiccups and then starts giggling. She releases Dream’s face and then falls back onto Didi, who’s sitting behind her on the couch. “He’s sensitive, you know? About—” she gestures at her front, “All the hair he has. Hates it when people see it. I think we had sex with the lights on like, twice, at most.” She pauses and then regards Dream, her expression sombering. “I thought you knew.”

“Why would I know that?” Dream asks, dumfounded. Hob had never given any indicator that he was sensitive about any part of his body, and no one in their friend group had ever commented on it.

“Because,” Eleanor replies, gesturing wildly. “Think about it. Whenever we went to the beach or anything together, did you ever see him take his shirt off? Or at the pool at Matthew and Jessamy’s place?”

“I—” Dream filters through his memory, which is an especially difficult task considering how drunk they are. He realizes that Eleanor’s right. 

“Shit.” Dream groans. “I think I fucked up.”

“No, no, he did,” Eleanor insists. “I always told him I didn’t mind all the hair,” she adds then sighs. “I mean it’s a lot, but it never bothered me, you know?”

“It’s never bothered me either,” Dream admits. He’d rather liked the differences in their bodies actually. Hob was broad where Dream was lanky, naturally tan and sunkissed where Dream was pale. Dream had never had an opinion on chest hair before, what little hair he’d had it was so fine and thin that his chest looked bare anyways. But Eleanor was right. Dream had never really seen Hob casually uncovered. And while he was always eager to undress Dream when the lights were still on, Hob almost never fully undressed himself until after he’d shut them off. 

It seems so obvious now, in retrospect. But Dream had been caught up in his own insecurities to really notice that Hob had any of his own to address.

“I honestly thought he didn’t want to look at me when he turned off the lights,” Dream confesses. “That maybe he was hoping he could pretend I was someone else in the dark.”

“Okay, I’m with my girlfriend,” Didi says suddenly, a murderous look in her eyes. “I’m a doctor, I can make it look like an accident,” she adds, holding up her weird hand mixed cocktail that has hot sauce in it. 

“Didi!” Dream exclaims. “No murder,” he orders, then laughs at the absurdity of the entire situation. They all start laughing, and Dream feels something unwind in his chest when they do. He thinks about texting Hob, but ultimately decides against it. What he wants to tell him, he wants to do it sober, and in person. 

Dream wakes up the next morning extremely hungover, and orders breakfast for delivery. Didi and Eleanor try to insist on paying him back, but he waves away their money, and tells them they can buy him dinner when he flies out to see them move. They both hug him fiercely on their way out and make him promise to see them at least one more time before they fly back to Seattle.

-----------------

A week after his conversation with his sister and Eleanor, Dream is outside Hob’s apartment door, pacing nervously as he rehearses everything he wants to say to Hob. His apology. His request to start things over, if Hob still wants to try. How he’s really been feeling about their whole not-relationship status.

Really, he’s just stalling knocking on Hob’s door. What if Hob doesn’t answer when he sees it’s Dream? What if he tells Dream to go away without even hearing him out? What if—

Dream groans and then mentally slaps himself. He needs to stop worrying himself unnecessarily. Either Hob will want to hear him out or he won’t. But Dream needs to at least try.

He’s about to raise his hand to finally knock on the door, when suddenly he hears Hob’s voice, distinctly from not inside the apartment. 

“Dream?” Hob asks. Dream turns in the direction of his voice and finds Hob standing at the end of the hall, groceries in hand. Dream realizes he’s been an idiot standing in front of a completely empty apartment. 

“Hi,” Dream says, every rehearsed speech and romantic gesture he’d just been rehearsing evaporating from his mind like wisps of smoke.

“Hi,” Hob replies, his voice flat. He looks tired, but not angry at least, to see Dream. “Did you need something?” he asks as he walks slowly towards his front door, eyeing Dream a little suspiciously. Dream can’t really blame him. Their last interaction had ended rather poorly.

“I—can we talk?” Dream asks, stepping aside so Hob can put his key in the lock. Hob sighs and his shoulders droop, like he’s been dreading this exact situation. 

“Sure,” Hob replies, putting on a fake cheerful demeanor as he opens the door to let himself and Dream in. 

“Do you need help with anything?” Dream asks, trailing Hob towards the kitchen. 

“If you want,” Hob replies, setting the groceries down onto the counter. But before Dream can start unpacking anything, he sighs again and groans. 

“Actually, Dream,” Hob says, turning around and facing him head on. “Let’s just talk now.” 

“Uhm—okay,” Dream replies, now feeling incredibly nervous. Hob looks at him expectantly, crossing his arms as he waits for Dream to gather his thoughts. 

Finally, Dream says, “I wanted to say I’m sorry. About everything that happened last time I was here.”

His apology seems to surprise Hob, who suddenly straightens up from his leaning position against the counter.

“Oh,” Hob replies, sounding dumbstruck. “I—I’m sorry too,” he offers, uncrossing his arms and running a hand through his hair. Dream realizes it’s longer than the last time he’d seen it. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper at you that night.”

“To be fair, I was being an ass,” Dream admits, even though it pains him to do so.  

“Yeah but you had a reason to be,” Hob says. “I was just feeling sorry for myself for no reason and I took it out on you.”

“I still took my shitty day out on you,” Dream replies, shrugging. “So I guess we were both not at our best that night.”

“I guess not,” Hob accepts, with a small smile. “We’re okay then?”

Dream nods. “Yes,” he says, offering a small smile himself, then stepping towards Hob. “Why were you feeling sorry for yourself?” Hob’s expression shutters closed again, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s not important,” he says, turning away and refusing to meet Dream’s eyes.  

“Hob,” Dream says, taking another step closer and reaching out to take the other man’s hand in his. “It’s important to me,” he adds.  

Hob sighs, and then turns his eyes to the ceiling. When he meets Dream’s gaze again, he looks pained. 

“I’m not good at being casual Dream,” Hob tells him bluntly, and Dream feels a sense of deja vu run through him like a live wire. “If we’re going to keep doing…this, I want there to be a commitment. It’s not just sex to me.”

It’s almost identical to what Eleanor had said about Hob to Dream a week prior. Dream suddenly feels wretched for not noticing sooner, but also indignant, because why had Hob assumed that wasn’t what Dream wanted as well? 

“Hob,” Dream says, as calmly as he can manage, before he squeezes Hob’s hand tightly. “What made you think I didn’t want the same things?”

Hob’s face falls. He looks intently at Dream’s face, and whatever he finds there only seems to upset him further. 

“I—I don’t know,” Hob admits, before he groans and places his free hand over his face. Dream finds it a bit comforting that he hasn’t tried to remove Dream’s hand over his other one.

“I’ve read this whole thing wrong, haven’t I?” Hob says through his hand, before slapping his forehead. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not,” Dream says, before he takes Hob’s free hand as well. “And to be fair,” he adds, “it’s occurred to me recently that I may have, as well. We’ve never talked about—about this,” he gestures between them. “Us. We just sort of skip to the sex.”

“Well, we have been drunk every time,” Hob replies. “You said so yourself.”

“Not—every time,” Dream says. “After Matthew got food poisoning, when I thought that you had invited me out on a date, we only had one drink each that we didn’t finish.”

“Wait,” Hob stutters, his whole body going rigid. “You thought I had invited you out for a date? That’s why—,” his eyes widen suddenly. “That’s why you wore the blazer.”

Dream blushes furiously and now it is his turn to look away from Hob’s scrutinizing gaze. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“No I’m not I—,” Hob groans again, and then, unexpectedly, pulls his hands free before dropping his head down on Dream’s shoulder. Dream startles when he feels Hob’s arms suddenly wrap around his waist shortly after.

“I had no idea. None at all,” Hob confesses, then groans again. “God I would’ve taken you somewhere nicer if I knew you wanted it to be a date.”

Dream shrugs, then reaches up to pat Hob on the back. “It’s fine. Really.”

“Not really, but we can agree to disagree,” Hob replies, before he tilts his head slightly up to look at Dream “Can I get a do-over on that then?” he asks. “Take you out on a proper date?”

Dream wants that, he realizes. Desperately. So he nods. 

“I do want that,” Dream says honestly. “But—”

“Oh God, there’s a ‘but’,” Hob groans before he straightens and untangles himself from Dream. Dream already misses the warmth of Hob’s body. 

“It’s not a bad ‘but’,” Dream replies. “But there’s something that’s been bothering me since we—since all this started,” he finishes. “I want to make sure we’re really on the same page.”

Hob nods. “Okay, sure. What is it?” he asks.

Dream takes a deep breath to brace himself, and then looks Hob directly in the eye. Now or never, he supposes. 

“Why do you turn off the lights?” Dream asks. 

Hob blinks, slow, then suddenly blushes a furious red before he buries his face in his hands.

“Aw, come on Dream,” Hob sighs. “It’s really embarrassing.”

Dream softens a bit, but remains resolute. Eleanor had told him what she thought had been the problem all along, but he still needs to hear it from Hob himself.  

“I need to know, Hob,” Dream insists.

“Why?” Hob asks, then sighs again. “I mean, I don’t know, it’s pretty obvious isn’t it? I’m not really much to look at, you know,” he says, gesturing to himself.

“Not much to look at?” Dream asks, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“I know, it’s stupid,” Hob sighs, running a hand over his face. “But I mean, Dream, look at you. You’re gorgeous and I’m…I don’t know, not that?”

“I’m still not following,” Dream says, still confused but also growing more and more uneasy about what Hob is implying. “Did you…did you really not think I was attracted to you? At all?”

“No, I—I just—,” Hob stutters. “I don’t know what I thought, honestly,” he says, looking guilty. “I just—I’m not as confident as you about how I look naked,” he adds, gesturing to his front, and Dream’s heart sinks at the confirmation of yet another thing Eleanor had told him. “I thought…maybe you’d change your mind about being with me. If you saw, well— everything.”

“Everything,” Dream replies flatly. 

“I mean, you know I’m really…hairy,” Hob says, before he winces. “And well, I’m not really in shape or anything like that either…” he trails off, looking even more guilty with every new word that comes out of his mouth. Like he’s only just realizing now that he pushed his anxieties about his body onto Dream, who clearly hasn't noticed any of the things Hob's insecure about.

“So…what?” Dream says, suddenly feeling indignance and hurt creep into his voice. “You just assumed I wouldn’t find you attractive unless I was drunk and we had sex in the dark?”

“Wait, what?” Hob exclaims. 

“Am I really that shallow sounding to you?” Dream continues, already feeling his emotions start to get the better of him.

“No, oh god, no,” Hob replies immediately. “Dream, I don’t know what’s brought this on, but swear it had nothing to do with you. I was just stupid and insecure about myself, and I wasn’t thinking properly. I’m sorry, I really had no idea it bothered you so much.”

A somewhat tense and awkward silence falls between them. Dream mulls over what Hob has told him, feeling wretched about how deeply they’ve both misunderstood one another. But he had come here to clear those misunderstandings after all. Hob had admitted his insecurities. Now Dream had to as well. 

“I actually thought—” Dream says, then takes a shuddering breath to calm himself. “I thought you turned the lights off because you didn’t want to look at me,” he finally admits.  “Because I wasn’t who you really wanted to be with.”

Hob’s eyes widen, first in shock, then horror. “Wait you thought that I—”

“Was using me as a stand-in for Eleanor?” Dream finishes. He wraps his arms around himself and then looks away, refusing to meet Hob’s eyes. He feels like a coward for doing so but Dream knows he’ll lose his resolve to admit everything he’d been bottling up if he does. “The first time we slept together, I assumed you were only looking for a rebound. And when we never talked about it after, or told our friends I—”

“Fuck, Dream,” Hob interrupts, grabbing him suddenly and hugging Dream to his chest. “I had no idea, I—fuck, I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.”

Dream sniffles, wrapping his own arms around Hob, shrugging helplessly. 

“I should have said something sooner,” Dream says. “But I let it—fester instead. I had no idea that you thought you weren’t attractive to me either. But Hob,” he adds, turning his head to meet Hob’s eyes again, hoping he looks as serious as he feels. “I don’t just sleep with people I’m not attracted to. Regardless of how much alcohol is involved.”

Hob nods. “Yeah. I—I’m still sorry about everything though.”

“Me too,” Dream replies, then adds, a bit more quietly. “I like the hair, actually.” Hob chokes out a noise that seems half between a laugh and a sob. 

“You don’t have to say—” he starts but Dream shushes him.

“I mean it, Hob,” Dream says, before he works a hand between them to pet the small patch of hair peeking out from beneath Hob’s shirt. “I think it suits you. And I would like to be able to fully appreciate it.”

When he looks up at Hob, the other man’s eyes are a bit watery. But then Hob blinks rapidly, and sniffles, before he hugs Dream even more tightly to himself.

“Stay the night?” Hob asks. “Not for—not for sex. Just stay with me?”

Dream nods against Hob’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Hob makes a decision to order takeout instead of making dinner like he originally planned, citing that he’d rather spend time talking with Dream anyways. They still put away the groceries, which helps release a lot of the emotional tension that had built up between them, and Dream enjoys the warm, domestic feel of the activity. 

Once their food arrives, they settle on Hob’s couch and talk late into the night about everything and nothing. Hob catches Dream up on what missed during trivia when he was out with Didi, and Dream shyly admits that Didi had not been the only person he’d talked to that evening. Hob stares at him, equal parts awestruck and mortified, as Dream recalls his conversations with Eleanor and Didi, and how he found out they were dating. 

“So what you’re saying is, I’m lucky to have my bits still attached?” Hob jokes. 

“Hob,” Dream chastises him, bumping their shoulders together. “That’s not nice.”

“You didn’t date Eleanor,” Hob retorts. “She’s terrifying, do you know how many serial killer documentaries she used to watch?”

Dream did, in fact, know this. He had been subject to many episodes of Cold Case Files growing up with Didi, and his knowledge had been how he and Eleanor had first become friends. Dream suspects Eleanor’s deep passion for them is actually one of the reasons why she and Didi get along so well.

“Hob,” Dream says, a new worry now crossing his mind. “Are you—okay—with all of this?” he waves vaguely. “With Didi dating your ex while we—?” He trails off. They still haven’t really decided on what their official relationship status would be going forward, and Dream doesn’t want to presume.

Hob nudges Dream with his shoulder, and then kisses the top of his head. 

“Yeah, I am,” Hob answers sincerely. “I mean—it’s never not going to suck that we broke up,” he adds. “But we had our time, and if she’s happy then I’m happy too.”

Dream nods. “That’s good to hear,” he says. 

“Are you okay with it?” Hob asks. Dream hums. 

“I am,” he answers, then huffs a laugh. “I did offer to help them move into their new place, though.”

Hob groans. “Does this mean I have to help too as part of my good boyfriend duties?” he asks.

Dream’s potsticker falls out of his mouth mid chew, hits his knee, and then falls to the floor.

“Shit!” Dream exclaims, putting his food on the coffee table before bending down to pick up the stray dumpling. 

“I—did I say something wrong?” Hob asks, worry now clear in his voice. Dream shakes his head and then flops against Hob’s shoulder.

“You said nothing wrong,” Dream says into Hob’s shoulder, his face now flushed with embarrassment. “I was just surprised, is all. You—you said it so easily.”

“Boyfriend, you mean?” Hob asks, now in a teasing tone. “Do you like it?”

Dream nods, feeling ridiculous about being done in by a single word. But Hob doesn’t seem to mind.

“I like it too,” is all he says, before he places a hand underneath Dream’s chin and kisses him.

-----------------

As they’re getting ready for bed, Dream feels a thrum of excitement, even though they’ve still agreed that sex is off the table for the night. They’re both far too tired and emotionally drained from the evening to put in the effort anyways.

But then Hob is holding out his arm for Dream to snuggle into, and Dream feels like a teenanger as he curls up against Hob’s chest and rests his head on it. 

“Fair warning that you’re going to wake up sweaty if you stay here all night,” Hob tells him. Dream knows he doesn’t mean to sound so self-deprecating, but now that he knows just how deep Hob’s insecurities run, it breaks his heart a little. 

“That’s fine,” Dream says, pressing himself even closer. He can feel Hob’s chest hair poking through the thin material of his undershirt. Dream rubs his face into it, enjoying the rough, scratchy texture against his check. Hob laughs at Dream’s actions, and Dream hums in contentment. He really did like the feel of Hob’s chest hair. It was surprisingly soft in certain places, and warm. Maybe Dream would wake up because he’s too warm in the middle of the night. Maybe he won’t. He’s just glad that now he gets the opportunity to find out. 

“You don’t have to pretend to be enthusiastic about it,” Hob says as Dream nuzzles him again.

“I’m not,” Dream replies, rolling his eyes. “It feels…nice.”

“Sure,” Hob replies. “Say that again in the morning.”

Dream does in fact, say something similar to that effect in the morning. He says it while he sits atop Hob’s lap, Dream gripping the thick pelt of hair for purchase as he ruts himself desperately against Hob. 

They’ve never had sex in the morning. In the bright light of day. Somehow it’s even more intimate than what Dream imagines having sex with the lights on must feel like and he loves it. Hob is looking at Dream like he’s something divine, like he can’t quite believe that what they’re doing is really happening. Dream thinks he’ll never let Hob turn off the lights again when they do this. He never again wants to miss a single second of seeing the way Hob looks at him, at how stunning Hob’s entire body looks and feels when pressed against Dream’s. His new goal, for however long it takes, is that Hob never questions Dream’s attraction to him ever again.

When they’ve both reached their peaks, Dream collapses on top of Hob, uncaring of the sticky mess between them. Hob’s chest is warm and broad, and Dream finds himself slowly drifting back to sleep. Hob groans after a while, however, wriggling beneath the weight of Dream's body, and disturbing his otherwise peaceful post-coital rest.

“Okay, this is sweet and all, but now I’m the one that's too hot,” Hob whines, pushing gently at Dream’s shoulder. Dream laughs, a brazen, awful honking noise that he’s always been insecure about. But Hob had told him the night before that he loves Dream’s laugh, and Dream can see now that the other man wasn’t lying. He’s looking at Dream softly, so full of affection that Dream nearly forgets he needs to move and just stares at Hob for a while.

“What?” Hob asks, his eyes crinkled with happiness.

“Nothing,” Dream replies, smiling back before he moves off of his boyfriend’s chest.

Hob gets up from the bed once Dream rolls off of him and heads towards the bathroom. He comes back with two warm washcloths to wipe themselves off with. When they’re both done, he tosses both cloths in the direction of the hamper, missing his target by mere inches. 

“Close enough,” Hob says. 

“That’ll leave a wet spot on your carpet,” Dream tells him, already seeing his prediction start to come true. 

“I’ll get to it later,” Hob replies before he kisses Dream, languid and slow and perfect. “I have more important things to do today.”

[a-heart-attack-ow]

The Arrangement. Part Thirteen

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen:

Over time I’d perfected the manicured image. 

The perfect wife and mother. 

Without missing a beat. 

A modern day princess, wrapped up in the perfect clothing. The perfect wedding rings and currated photoshoots. If I was being honest, I didn’t know if I would ever get used to this. All of the handshaking. The fake confidence that I forced myself to exude. Internally, I was sure I’d have been better at this by now, that I wouldn’t be phased by the fancy dresses. 

The madness. 

The money. 

The faces of men in suits who held power they shouldn’t have. 

The truth was, I hadn't gotten any better at being the wife of Colby Brock. Not even after three and a half years of marriage. Not even having a child together. I still felt as out of place as I ever did. I tried to not be bothered by the looks on everyone's faces when I walked into the room, looks of praise from people I hadn't ever meant to impress. I breathe a sharp breath as I walk into the party, cascades of red and black flowers flowing over the ceiling. The chandeliers offer the only indication that there's a roof above our heads. I keep my eyes forward as I walk along the marble floors, my shoes silent because of the music blasting over the speakers. Colby was somewhere in this mess of people, but I wasn't going to bother looking for him. Instead I looked for the bar, my eyes scanning over the crowd until I found it tucked into the corner of the room. I'd never been to this mansion before today, but it was bigger than any home I'd ever been in before. Colby had rented mansions like this out once a month for these lavish parties. After we'd moved from our old home to the cottage there wasn't room for this many people. 

Not that we wanted them in our space. 

I swallow hard when I catch a glimpse of Katrina, Kris, and Celina at the bar. Sam on the other side of Katrina, their shoulders brushing. Somehow, we always ended up here together. A band of misfits that didn't enjoy the black tie affair or the nauseating excess of wealth. 

"Ah there's our girl, looking as hot as ever."

Katrina says loudly over the music as she turns to face me. The dress Celina had picked out for me was a sexy, tight, burgundy dress. A mermaid fit, strapless, with a sweetheart neckline that really pushed up my breasts. Hanging tight on every curve. The dress was eye-catching and I could tell by the way men stared at me as I walked by. Not caring that my husband was somewhere in the crowd. 

"Thanks Kat, but if I had it my way, I'd be in sweats and holding my baby."

I join them at the bar, pulling up a seat next to Celina. She smiles and nods in agreement, we'd all rather be anywhere but here. Thinking of my daughter, I feel a twinge of sadness and a bigger sense of guilt. I hated leaving her at home with a sitter. I hated not being with her, even if it was only for a few hours. 

"I think we'd all rather be home with Eleanor. Do you think Brock will notice if we sneak off?"

Kris states lifelessly before taking a shot, slamming the glass down on the counter top. My friends did love my daughter and came over multiple times a week to spend time with her. Sometimes I was convinced they didn't like me anymore and only wanted to see my baby. I gesture to the bartender who looks me up and down, a smirk forming as he studies me closely. He was the same bartender we'd hired for our monthly events and by now he was fully aware of my order without me saying a word. I didn't know what it was about the men at these events, the way they looked at me like I was up for grabs. I didn't know if it was because they actually thought I looked good or if it was because of the fame I now had. Gone were the days of shy Emilia who didn't know her way around the traditions of the family I married into. In the years that had passed I'd become an expert and sought to grow further from just being Colby Brock's wife. I did interviews, rubbed elbows with famous men and women who'd all supported my charity endeavors. In the past two and a half years I'd made a name for myself within my family. I no longer relied on coaching from anyone and that's how I wanted it to be. Katrina still helped with PR, but her role had turned into more of a friendship than a working relationship. I found a sort of confidence in myself over the past few years and maybe that's what attracted the men at these parties.

The desire to break me.

I give the bartender a smile when he hands me my drink, his phone number on the napkin under my drink. 

His fifth attempt to give it to me over the months he'd been employed with us. 

I roll my eyes and down the champagne flute in seconds. God I wanted to go home. 

"In this dress he would notice her absence for sure."

I shoot Sam a glare as he puts his hands up in defense. In the years that had passed he and Katrina had found their way back to one another. Something that I thought was really sweet, because the way that they looked at each other made my heart melt. Instead, Sam and I had gone back to being friends. Friends who still hated these parties. 

"I haven't even seen him since I got here. We rode separately because I had a work thing that ran longer than expected. I doubt he even knows I'm here."

I rasp as the bartender gives me another glass of my usual. This time I don't bother looking at him, out of fear he'll send me another suggestive smirk. I keep my eyes on Sam who laughs while wrapping an arm around Kat's shoulder. 

"You know, that he's fully aware of your every movement right? He probably knew you were here the second your stiletto touched the ground outside."

A smile finds my lips when he says this ridiculous comment. Even though a part of me knows it's true, because he always seemed to keep tabs on me no matter where I was. With anyone else, I might think it was a little possessive, but with Colby I knew it was only because he worried about me going out on my own. 

"Ooh ominous." 

Is my only reply, sarcasm evident in my voice. A tone that earns a laugh from my friends. I had been so good at doing what was asked of me for so long that occasionally I couldn't help but be a little sarcastic. Maybe a little bitter that I'd been performing for as long as I have been. I try not to let the thought naw at me too much. I wouldn't trade any of this for the world because I was so in love with the life I'd built with Colby, but there were times when I felt like I was being tested for a quiz I didn't study for. I can see Sam try to formulate a response but doesn't bother when he sees someone come from behind me. Glancing over my shoulder I lock eyes with Johnnie who gives me a shy smile. 

"Colby needs to see you upstairs. Said he doesn't want to be kept waiting." 

My jaw clenches at the demand, mentally I can hear the tone of his voice. Colby never liked to be kept waiting and I'd spent years spoiling him by being obedient to his every whim. Whims that I would challenge it if I didn't already know what was waiting for me upstairs. 

What he was planning to do to me upstairs. 

"Thank you for telling me, Johnnie." 

I breathe the words, anticipation creeping its way up my spine. I give my friends one last glance before complying with where I was told to be. Slowly pulling myself away from the bar and back through the sea of people. I can feel myself unable to ignore the way my body pulls myself through the crowd of people with newfound determination. I can't bring myself to care about the other people watching me or whatever they think of me. Instead, I mindlessly walk myself up the stairs of the mansion, feeling dozens of eyes boring into my back with each step forward. Or the way the crowd murmurs amongst themselves as I reach the top of the stairs, everyone seeming to know where I was going. 

And who I was going to. 

What I was going to do to him. 

At the top of the stairs, I see a door directly across from the landing, the door opened a crack. Glancing to my left and then to my right I notice that all of the other doors are closed except this one. So I use that as my sign that this was the room I'd been summoned to. With trembling legs, I step forward, my hands pushing the door open. I take a few steps inside of the room, noting that it's empty. I hear the door close behind me and that's when I'm aware that I'm not alone. I don't turn to face the culprit behind the door closing. I don't need to because I can feel him behind me, his aura electric. I breathe a slow shallow breath and stare at the curtains on the windows directly in front of me. The room we are in looks like a random guest bedroom, not big enough to be the master. In the center of the room, up against the windows is the queen sized mattress. I keep my posture straight as I feel his fingertips go along my spine, lightly enough to cause chills to go up my spine. I feel his eyes on me as he takes me in, appreciating all of the hard work Kris and Celina put into me looking presentable. I smell his cologne, as he stands behind me. His chest against my back, his breath on my neck. He hums in approval as I lean into him. 

"Well, look at you darling. You clean up nice."

I can't help my smile to myself, his lips light along my collarbone. 

"That's just because when you normally see me I'm covered in marker or dirt or whatever else our daughter gets into." 

Along my skin I feel him smile, breathing against me as he thinks about what I've said. It was true, 99 percent of the time I was covered in something gross. It had been that way since Eleanor was born. Babies had a way of being messy little humans and there was no way around it. He chuckles darkly. 

"True, my god does she get into everything..."

He pauses, kissing along my neck. My eyes flutter closed at the contact, his arms wrapping around my waist as I lean back to give him as much access to my neck as possible. Lightly, I feel his tongue dance over my skin, marking me with each gentle suck. I feel my lips part as I focus only on him and the way he's making me feel in this moment. My breathing is uneven and desperate for whatever else he has planned. He hums as his fingertips toy with the zipper of my dress, not wasting a second before dragging the zipper down, the dress falling onto the floor around my feet. The cool air of the room causes my nipples to harden without the safe confines of my built in bra. He slides his hands down from my waist to the top of my lace underwear, toying with the fabric. 

"... I see you're wearing the new underwear I bought you." 

My head feels fuzzy as he slowly drags the fabric down my legs at a cruelty deliberate pace. His head remains in the crook of my neck as he does this, lips never leaving my throat. I reach around, my fingers in his hair. I try to ground myself in reality as I knot my fingers in his hair. I feel his hand slide in between my thighs, fingertips grazing my clit. His middle finger traces the sensitive bud, my knees buckling for a second as his arm holds me in place. I feel my breath immediately grow uneven as he rubs slow circles. 

“My baby doll is so needy. I fucked you this morning, but you’re acting like you’re touch starved.” 

His voice is deeper, his lips remaining light on my throat. He slides his middle finger inside of me, curled and ready to inflict maximum damange. Inside of me, he feels good, my head tilting back against his chest. My eyes flutter closed and a moan brushing past my lips quietly. He lifts his lips from my throat, his head resting on my head as he holds me, finger fucking me without apology. He adds another finger and groans in satisfaction at the mess he’s made of me. Around his fingers, I feel my walls tighten around him. 

“Can I cum on your fingers daddy?”

I whisper in heated breaths, my question pulsating through the silence. Something snaps inside of him whenever I call him this. Something feral and fucking glorious. 

“Do it baby doll.”

He growls, his fingers thrusting further inside of me at a faster pace. Unrelentlessly daring me to do what we both want me to. I feel the nerves building, my walls tightening around him violently, my legs shaking. He holds me up, aware that my legs will give out if he doesn’t. He kisses the side of my head, his eyes never leaving me as he watches me fall apart on his fingers. I can’t think as I release, cum coating his fingers. When I finish and my chest is still heaving, he pulls his fingers out of me. Turning my head to face him, I watch him lick his fingers clean, my stomach flipping in excitement. 

A sight I could watch all day. 

“Fuck Colbs.”

I whisper, my breathing still unrecovered. He chuckles, his hands pulling my lace underwear back up legs. He slaps my ass once it’s covered causing me to laugh as I turn to face him. He looked so good dressed in a suit, his blue eyes piercing me through the dimmed light of the room. He looks at my body, taking in the sight of me. He reaches out to cup my breasts in his hands.

“If I wasn’t expected downstairs in five minutes, I would touch every inch of you.” 

He sighs, wishing we weren’t on a time limit. Without wasting another moment he slowly turns me away from him, leaning down to slide my gown back up my body. He zips me back into it and kisses the side of my head once more. I glance over my shoulder and give him look of sympathy. Becoming the head of a company had pros and cons. One of those cons was that he always had to entertain the assholes in suits downstairs. He moves his body from mine and I turn to face him once more more. His eyes suddenly look tired as he really studies the dress Celina had picked for me. 

Like the men downstairs. 

He approves. 

“I need to give Kris and Celina a raise.” 

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, my arms folding across my chest. Sometimes, under his gaze, I felt like he was seeing me for the first time. Not that I was complaining, it was a strange spark that made everyday with him feel more special. I lean into him, my hands finding either side of his face. I study him and breathe a deep sigh. 

“They’ll laugh when I tell them that.” 

He places his hands over the top of mine. Gentle as he rubs his fingertips lightly along my skin. Neither of us wanted to be here, but we knew the price of our roles. The price of the life we maintained. 

“Walk with me to join the party?”

He asks pulling back, his hand outstretched to hold mine. Without speaking I take his hand and let him guide me out of the room. The moment we emerge from the room, the silence that had fallen over the guests falters. The faint chatter resuming when they no longer want to try and sneak a listen to their fearless leader.

And whatever he’d been doing to his wife upstairs.

I keep my eyes forward, Colby slightly in front of me as he pulls me towards the landing. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, the camera flashes start. The meeting of madness starting with careful documentation. The fake smiles find our faces with each step down the stairs. The flashes only growing more unstable with each step forward. We pause at the bottom of the stairs, eyes locked on the photographers. 

Posing 

Like we’d always been trained to. 

After a few minutes my cheeks hurt. Colby raising a hand, a gesture that meant for them to stop. 

Or else. 

When the photographers disipate the careful gazes of our guests come into sight. In a blur of flashing lights that lingered long after they’d ceased in my eyes. Colby looks at the men, the pompous look he wore around the men he worked with etching into his face. I don’t listen to him speak as he addresses the mindless businessmen. I only stare at him with a fake look of support, my eyes trained to fain interest. When he finishes speaking he takes his leave, steping off the final step. He joins the party and I am quick to walk back towards the bar where my friends still lingered. I notice the way they look back at me when I weave through the people, the party starting. I keep my focus on my friends, but pause when I see someone in the crowd that I hadn’t expected to be there. 

The woman from the garden.

Colby’s ex that he’d spoken to while I watched on helplessly. The same day that our lives changed forever. Seeing her now, long black hair loose and in a tight dress, looking like a flawless ghost that I thought I’d repressed. My brow furrows for a moment, her brown eyes locking onto mine. The shy demenor she had the day in the garden was nonexistent here in the belly of the beast. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to think, and I don’t know what it means. The same woman he’d told to stay away was in attendence? Suddenly, my stomach drops and I hear the ghost of my mother-in-law’s voice in my head.

‘One day he will do what they all do. And you need to be prepared for it.’ 

‘I just want you to understand your role once Colby decides he wants to play with someone new.’

‘You’ll be expected to endure it. You’ll be expected to stand by him and love him, even if he starts fucking someone else’

Rationality doesn’t find me as I feel my stomach turn. How was it that my mother-in-law was able to haunt me so thoroughly when she’d been dead for three and a half years? How was that fair. I’m so inside of my head that I don’t notice that the woman has moved her way over to me. Close enough for me to reach out and touch her. 

“Emilia.”

She says my name, her voice light and soft. For a moment the jealousy and anxiety of what her prescence could mean eats away at me.  Unable to respond for a moment. 

“Y-yes.”

I whisper, my lips parting despite wanting to remain silence. 

“I need you to listen to me before he finds out I’m here.” 

The composure she once had fades as she pulls herself closer to me. Her hands reaching out to rest on my waist as she moves her lips to the side of my head. So she can whisper in my ear without anyone hearing her. 

“The men here, members of the Brock family estate, they’re plotting something big. Something bad.”

I feel my breathing hitch. 

“What are you talking about?”

I whisper back. 

“The board members, Sam, Colby, they’ve been up to something big. My father is a member of the board and I know they’re doing something illegal. Something that will make them a lot of money.”

I don’t know if I believe her, but when I feel her slide a flash drive drive into my hands I feel like there might be some truth to what she’s saying. 

“He’s not like them.” I rasp more to myself than to her, a statement that causes her to grip on me to tighten. As if she’s trying to make me believe her through her touch alone. 

“Maybe, but he’s allowing the board to do this without fighting them. I’m telling you this because you seem like a good woman. I don’t want you to get hurt like I d-”

She doesn’t get to finish speaking before I feel her grasp get pulled away from me. Forcibly, Corey pulls her away from me, his eyes serious as he tries to be gentle. Jake joins him, taking the otherside of the woman, gentle but firm as he pulls her away from me. I look on in horror at my friends dragging her. 

“Please, we were just speaking....” 

I raise my voice, making sure that they don’t notice the flash drive she’s slipped into my hands. 

“...You don’t have to drag her out.”

Both men give me a look, a momentary pause. Normally, when I gave a direction they listened, but today they seemed to be under other orders. 

His.

I give the woman a look of sympathy and attempt to reach out for her. To help her somehow, but when I move forward I feel an arm wrap around my waist. An arm that holds me still to the spot. I glance over and feel my heart drop when I lock eyes with Colby. His face is serious, to anyone else it would look like he was worried about me and getting the woman as far from me as possible, but I see through that. He’s serious because he knows he’s too late. 

She told me too much.

I keep my face innocent, looking at him without any indication that I knew anything. A doe-eyed look that normally landed me in his bed for hours. A look that causes him to swallow hard for a moment before pulling his eyes to the woman being carried out of the party. His grip tighter on me as we watch on in silence, his fingertips rubbing slow circles on my skin. Around us, others look on in horror, but without surprise. 

As if they expected her to snap. 

Like they’ve seen it before.

–

An hour later I’m pushing open the door to the cottage. My eyes focused on finding my daughter.

Home Sweet Home.

Eleanor is sat in the middle of the living room, playing with building blocks with Nate. Nate had gotten babysitting duty, but from the massive smile on his face he didn’t seem to mind. Instead he sat with her on the floor with toy hair curlers in his hair and a fairy god mother wand. It’s a sweet sight and I needed it after whatever the hell I’d witnessed at the party. Whatever the hell was on the USB that I slipped into my clutch without anyone noticing. I smile at Nate when his eyes move to me, a grin on his face as he gestures to his hair. 

“Nelly did my hair, what do you think?”

He asks proudly, something that makes Eleanor giggle. 

“It’s the best you’ve ever looked.” I feel myself freeze when I hear Colby’s voice from behind me. I’d ridden home with him promptly after the events at the party, but after what she said I didn’t know if I wanted to be near him. I didn’t know what she meant but I knew that I wouldn’t like it. He closes the gap between us, his arm wrapping around me once more. He’d been extra handsy since the interuption at the party, like he knew that I knew something I shouldn’t. Like he was trying to smooth out any disruption that had formed in the wake of her truth. I pull away from him and move to where Eleanor is sitting on the floor, lifting her little body off of the ground and holding her close. 

“Tell Uncle Nate, thank you for coming to watch you.”

I tell my daughter, my tone soft as I shoot Colby a look that tells him he needs to dismiss Nate so we can speak. Nelly gives me a big grin and leans her head against my chest. 

“Thank you Uncle Nate. I had fun.”

Her small voice always makes my heart ache, she’s just so cute, sweet, and I love her more than anything. I give the top of her head a kiss, and give Nate a smile before walking down the hallway, my daughter waving goodbye over my shoulder. I don’t look back, I just carry us into my daughter’s room. 

“Mama, are you okay?”

Eleanor asks me quietly, her small fingers finding the tips of my hair. She plays with the strands as I hold onto her. Suddenly I don’t feel okay. Suddenly I’m freaked out by what happened or what it could mean. I didn’t want to think of what Colby was up to and if he was keeping something from me. I knew he didn’t tell me everything because he rarely talked about his work. Instead, he focused on what I was up to with my charity work. There had been an unspoken deal that we’d made when I decided to do good things with my position of power. He did whatever he needed to and I tried to undo it with doing good things. 

Like some sort of tug of war. 

“Yes, baby I’m alright. I just didn’t like being away from you for so long.” 

I’m not lying, going out made me miss her like crazy. Especially when it came to going out to parties. Parties I didn’t need to go to. It was always the same rich assholes that my husband prioritzed. I give the top of her head another kiss and hold in any emotions that I’d been left feeling. 

“I miss you too.”

She whispers, her little face peering up at me. She looked like Colby, she had his eyes and the same little pout he had. She had our dark brown hair, but had my nose. She is beautiful, kind, and perfect. I breathe a sigh as she yawns, rubbing her eyes. She was up later than her normal bedtime. 9:00 p.m. being well over an hour past her normal schedule. 

“You want to go to bed?”

I ask her, quietly, her head giving me a faint nod as her eyes close. Her ability to fall asleep on cue was impressive and I envied her for it. I bring her to her bed, and lay her down. Her fingers still entwined in my hair. 

“Can you sing me a goodnight song daddy?”

She asks, her eyes opening for a moment as she looks behind me. Where he stands, one hand on the door knob as he watches his two girls. His tie is loose, his face soft as he looks at Eleanor. She had him wrapped around her fingers and he would do anything for her. Including singing lullibies that he’d learned through her favorite cd he played in the car with her. She gives me a smile when I lean down to kiss her little cheeks. 

“I love you Nellie.” 

I whisper, standing up and glance over at Colby. His eyes focus on me more serious than before when he realizes I’m not staying with him while he sings to her. I don’t give him a look back, I ignore him as I pass him, my hand brushing his for a moment. He huffs out in frustration before walking over to our daughter’s bed. He sits on the side of the bed and I watch him brush her hair out of her face as he starts to sing to her. He had a beautiful voice, a talent he might’ve been able to pursue if his parents hadn’t forced him into the family business. But I try not to let the beauty of his voice distract me from being pissed. 

Instead, I walk from the nursery and move towards our bedroom. Once inside I undo the zipper of my gown and step outside of it. Laying it on top of the hamper on my side of the room. Absentmindedly I take off my jewlery and put my heals back on the shoe rack. I need to unwind but am unsure of how I can. I remember that the flash drive is in my purse, but I decide to deal with that later. I decide that I need to talk to him and see what he tells me. See if he tells me the whole truth or if he leaves stuff out. I slip into my night dress, its silky fabric hanging on every curve of my body. An outfit change that catches Colby’s eyes when he finally joins me in our bedroom. 

At the door, he closes us in and watches me as his fingers turn the lock. He takes a step forward and I take a step backward. Tension falls over us, thick enough to cut. The united front we’d built for the last three and a half years, seemingly broken after one evening. 

“What the fuck happened tonight Colby?”

I ask, my voice cold and controlled. A tone that doesn’t match my face, my doe-eyes seemingly making me less threatening. He smirks, his hands toying with his tie. Pulling the fabric off and falling to the floor. He undoes the each cuffling and his jacket. Shoes tossed to the side. His belt resting on top of his hamper. I don’t look away as he takes his pants off, his hardened cock causing me to squeeze my thighs together.

“What did Shea tell you?”

He asks, his button-up shirt falling to the ground. He looks at me smugly now that he’s fully naked in front of me. Fuck, did he look good. He always looked fucking good. 

“You’re doing something illegal.”

I whisper, his smirk growing. Without missing a beat he takes another step forward, mine another step back from his. He reaches out to grab my arm when he realizes that I have no intention of letting him corner me. 

Deciding to take what’s his. 

My body is flush against his within seconds, my nightdress pulled from my body. His hands are on either side of my face, his lips inches from mine as he gazes down at me. The arrogance in his face, my body always putty in his hands. 

“I’m doing what the board wants me to do. If I don’t they could vote me out of my position and do worse. I’m doing the best I can to appease them and keep them under control at the same time. It’s an impossible job, but I’m trying.”

My eyes dart from his to his mouth. 

To those fucking lips.

“I saw her that day in the hedge maze. I never told you that your mother dragged me out there because she wanted me to see you both and to tell me that it was my job to let you fuck other women. I saw how you treated her. We’d been watching you when that man came up behind us and shot your mom.”

His jaw tightens at my admission. The fact that I’d never told him in the past three and a half years. I was over here angry that he’d been up to something but was I any better? I couldn’t be sure. I’d kept it to myself because I didn’t want to hurt him in the middle of his grieving of his parents. A gasp escapes me as he holds me firmer. 

“You’re grilling me about keeping things from you when you’ve been doing the same? My baby doll is a hypocrite.”

He chuckles darkly, his hands moving from the side of my face. He pulls back, before kneeling down before me. Sliding my underwear off for the second time this evening. His hands are on my thighs, his eyes locked on me. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you. How is that the same as doing something illegal?”

The question comes out in a whimper as he stands up and lifts me up off of the ground. Wrapping my legs around his waist, as he carries me toward our bed. He growls as he pins me beneath him, his hardened cock grinding against the wet folds of my needy sex. My body betraying me with an eagerness for him to be inside of me. 

“Semantics Emilia.”

He groans aligning with me and pushing into me full tilt. A moan escapes me as my back arches into him. He lingers frozen as his cock savors the way my walls fit around him. Like two puzzle pieces always meant to be connected. 

“How illegal is this?”

I whimper as his lips move to my nipple, his teeth lightly pulling. His cock slides in and out of me with such force and eagerness that I can’t ignore the bliss of feeling him fuck me. I wrap my legs around his waist as he thrusts inside of me, stretching me out in the way that only he could. A hand wraps around the breast he’s not teasing with his mouth. A grip of tight satisfaction that I knew would bruise. 

In the way that I liked it to.

I close my eyes when his lips move from my nipple, to the valley of my breasts. Light kisses trailing up and down. 

“I can’t tell you.” 

He grinds himself deep inside of me, penatrating me deeper. A sensation that forces my jaw to clench. Fuck did it feel so good. Despite myself I’m overjoyed that I’m in his bed even if I was doing a shitty job of getting to the bottom of my interrogation. I’d never made it as a detective if a great cock was all that it took to silence me. 

“Colby.” A warning that I don’t have any authority to invoke. A warning that he laughs off as he peers up at me from the valley of my beasts, where he’s formed a sea of hickeys. An area that I could hide from peering eyes. 

“Emilia.”

He growls, another thrust, his hips unrelenteless as he fucks me deeply. His warning tells me that I need to stop asking. But I need to know what Shea had meant because if it was something terrible it had to be stopped. His hands move to my hips, lifting them in a new angle so he can fuck me deeper. His eyes close as he savors me, memorizing how tight I am and how my walls start to clench around him. I’m going to cum soon and he knew it. 

“Daddy please. I need to know.”

I plea knowing full well what my words will do. If he wanted to play dirty I could do it too. His eyes open as he glances down at me, his eyebrows raised. Not believing I’m being so persistent. I half expect him to be annoyed, but he’s not. He’s turned on.

Like he always fucking is. 

Like he always made me feel whenever we were together.

“Cum for me and I might tell you.”

His words are a command. Amusement in his eyes as he fucks me deeper. His thrusts still in rhythm even though they get sloppier the closer he gets to his own high. I arch into him, moaning as my walls tighten unrelentlessly. I cum all over his cock and when I do I feel him slam as far into me as he can holding me as he finishes. His cock shooting his seed deep inside of me. He holds himself there as his cock twitches a few more times before he pulls out of me. 

I lay there, head spinning as he watches me. Satisfied by how good he felt and how good he knew I felt. 

“The board has a secret perscription that they’re working on pushing out before it's ready. I’ve been trying to get them to test it properly, but they’ve been giving the drugs to our workers. There are severe reactions to the drug including severe hallucinations. The man who killed my parents, the disgruntled worker, had been taking the drugs when he went after my parents. He’d been hallucinating all sorts of shit and blamed my parents for it. I really can’t tell you anything else Emilia. I’m not trying to be difficult, if the board found out you knew, you could be hurt. I’m not risking that.” 

I look over at him and sigh. I didn’t want to know more, not when I needed to stay safe for our daughter. I knew that the company my husband inherited was complicated. But I also knew that I was only here to help use our positions to help people. The drama with Shea had detrailed me and derailed the safey net I’d built with Colby. We’d gotten to a really good place over the years. We had more good days than bad and for a moment someone had wedged between that and I let it. 

“She gave me a flash drive. With information on it. It’s in my clutch.” 

I whisper matter-of-factly. Noting the look of shock that overtakes his face. Seemingly impressed that I hadn’t told him sooner. 

“I’ll watch it with you.” 

He states lifelessly as if he already knows what’s on it. My brows furrow as I study him. 

“I never said it was a video.” 

He nods, looking away from me. He sits up in the bed, glaring at the wall in front of him. 

“You don’t need to. It’s an old video I made with her. She’s been shopping it around for a while. I’ve had to pay off many people to keep it quiet. Because it would ruin our image.”

I sit up, feeling dread quickly fall over me. Unsure of what’s he implying. 

“If this gets out, everyone will know our relationship started off as an arranged marriage. People would lose their shit and not trust us. They’d know everything we built had started out as lie. It won’t matter that we’ve turned it into a truth.”

I feel the weight of his words when he says this, realizing that the media finding out we’d started out as a lie would make everything we’d done feel like a lie. Like we weren’t trust worthy and that it would break up the work we’d put into making a change. 

“What did you do?”

I ask him, an accusatory tone in my voice without meaning it to. He doesn’t want to look at me, but wills himself to. His eyes soft once again. 

“I filmed a sex tape with her the night before we got married. I tell her that I’ll always love her even if I’m in an arranged marriage. I tell her that multiple times throughout the video. I thought she deleted it, she promised she did, but the last few weeks she’s been threatening me with it.”

I feel a pang of betrayal even though he didn’t cheat on me. I just can’t understand how someone could tell another person that and then go fuck someone else the next night. How could he tell her that and then fuck me? How could he sleep at night knowing he’d hurt her like that? I get up from the bed swiftly, my body feeling dirty suddenly. Used. Like I’ve done something wrong. 

Even though I knew we hadn’t. 

Even though I wouldn’t change a single thing. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I ask, mentally remembering the woman who’d been at the house party the night after we got married. The woman he’d been whispering to, so close their lips almost touched. The woman who I hadn’t realized was Shea until now, because that night I was tipsy. I was devestated and married to an asshole only 24 hours before. But now I see it, I see her. She’d been there from the beginning. I know Colby realizes I’m upset. I see it on his face as I grab my robe off the corner of my nightstand where I’d drapped it earlier. 

“She was there the night Sam punched you in the head...” 

I am breathless. 

“...The girl you told me you were only talking to. The girl you’d fucked two nights before.”

I am reeling. He looks ashamed with himself, his eyes suddenly unable to look at me. I sigh and decide that I can’t be here right now. Not in the same room as him, not right now. 

“I’m going to sleep in Nellie’s room tonight. I can’t look at you right now.” 

My words are piercing and I see it on his face. I know he’s hurt but I know that staying here might make me forgive him instantly. I know all it will take is for him to say something sweet and I’ll fall right into his grasp mindlessly. 

And right now I needed to let myself be angry. 

Even if it killed me to do it.

[firstdegreefangirl]

January 2024 Reading Wrap-Up!

New year, same love of books, slightly different structure for things around here. I'm keeping the monthly tracker and the mini-reviews, but skipping the prompt-based challenges because I couldn't find any that looked like they'd suit my reading tastes.

Instead, I've invented a game of my own, to focus on reading down the hundreds of books I already own: Bookcase Roulette! The rules are simple: three bookcases, five shelves each, roughly 25 books per shelf. I'm using random number generators to pick at least two books a month, and reading whatever the bookcase gods pick for me. So those will be marked in the reviews, along with whether or not I enjoyed the book enough to justify keeping it.

Beyond that, you know the drill. Monthly stats incoming, reviews under the cut!

Total books read: 5 

Total pages read: 1,722 

Days read: 31/31 

Average star rating: 4.2 

Bookcase Roulette Books: 2 

Turtles All The Way Down by John Green  ⭐⭐⭐⭐(½)  I knocked this out in a day, on New Year’s Day, much to either the astonishment or frustration of housekeeping bestie ((I was reading at work most of the day, then a few hours later we saw each other outside of work and I mentioned that I’d finished the book. I ... don’t think he believed me?)) It was the first round of Bookcase Roulette for 2024, but something like 2/3 of the way through, I realized that I’ve read it before. It’s great, I loved it, but it wasn’t familiar, until I turned the page and was face-to-face with a scene I remembered so clearly. So I have no memory of the first read, but I’m completely positive that there was one at some point. 

That said, all of that is about me and my experience, and none of it is about the book. John Green’s books are always so captivating to me, and this was no exception. The MC’s OCD and anxiety are so intensely palpable; I could feel myself stressing out with her as much as I wanted to give her a big hug. This is a book you should check in with yourself before reading; I maybe should have kept a closer eye on my own illness anxiety as I read along, but sometimes I live on the edge?  

Never Wager With a Wallflower by Virginia Heath  ⭐⭐⭐(¼)  Here’s the thing: historical romance isn’t usually for me. But, as happened so often last year, it was in my library experience bag and I was curious. It wasn’t bad, by any means, but all of the things that usually pull me away from the genre were true here too. As for the story itself, and the characters, I loved most of that. Parts of it were laugh out loud funny, parts made my heart ache for the characters and everything they’d been through. The characters were compelling, and I wanted to be rooting for them. I did deduct a full star for the phrase “wedding vegetables,” which has haunted me every day since I first saw it, as it completely pulled me out of the story and ruined my experience of what was otherwise an excellent scene. If you like historical romance, you’ll probably like this, but I'm in no way compelled to read it again or to finish the series.  

Play With Me by Claire Wilder  ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐  If you’ve been here for a while, you know this series has read me through three different trips now (Denver, Houston, and now Orlando). They’re consistently knock-outs for me, but this was far and above better than the rest. I’d been SO excited to read Jude’s story, and Nora felt so relatable for me. Claire Wilder does such an incredible job balancing the romance stories with Eleanor Cleary’s murder, and that really ramped up in this book. The mysterious intrigue blended so well with the friends-to-lovers romance, and Cap is just the best little dude. I laughed out loud on an airplane, I cried in a botanical garden (because of the book; not just because the flowers were so pretty), but there’s not much I can else I can say without breaking down the full context of the entire series (which, trust me, I am HAPPY to do, if anyone is interested. That’s just ... not this). 

Mess With Me by Claire Wilder  ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐  ... And I finished out that Florida trip with the next/sort of last book in the Quince Valley series (there’s a future-set shorter story after this, but this was the last of the Kelly siblings). Griffin, the elusive “only shows up when he absolutely must” sibling, got his love story! I was really looking forward to this one because it felt like no one knows anything about Griff, and I was so eager to find out what/why. Especially after the truth he half-dropped on Jude in Play With Me, I knew this would be a good one. It picked up with the tail end of Eli’s story from Sing For Me, elaborated on Jude/Nora, and touched back with Cass and Chelsea too, so we heard from the whole Kelly clan. AND we got all the backstory on Griffin’s job and the mysterious love he told his brother he’d lost. THEN he fell in love again. Truly, the only down point was Chester, the old man who lives next door. I saw it coming, it served the plot well, I still cried. (Bonus points to the author for already announcing that her NEXT series is going to build off of where this one ended, which took a little bit of the sting away from the end of Quince Valley.) 

Six Goodbyes We Never Said by Candace Ganger  ⭐⭐⭐(¼)  This month’s second round of Bookcase Roulette! As I started reading, I realized it’s by the same author as The Inevitable Collision of Birdie and Bash, which I LOVED when I read it. It also seems to be a companion piece, judging by namedropped characters and events, but I haven’t read B&B recently enough to say 100 percent. The plot was sweet – I like YA books that recognize that young adults can and do experience real-world, life-altering events. This is a book about grief, about young people grieving, about big and heavy topics. Too much YA is after-school clubs and kissing boys in the hallway, and while those stories can be great too, young people are capable of experiencing and comprehending so much more; this is truly a book for anyone who’s ever lost someone, regardless of age. Parts of the plot felt disjointed, especially early in the story, and especially with the voicemails and emails dividing Naima’s sections. I was usually able to figure out where things fit together, but it took more effort than I’d have liked and pulled me out of the story. There were some really powerful moments and quotes, and even though I don’t think I’m keeping it, I’m glad I finally picked this one up.  

[thebaepatricia]

📚 June Wrap-Up: Books

This month wasn’t the best for me in terms of reading. I didn’t have any strong urge to read + there was no book I hyper-fixated on and excited me enough.

The only reason I was able to finish one more book (Thank you for listening) at the last minute was because I had the flu and I spent 2 days reading on and off. Don’t try it at home though, no sickness is worth upping your wrap up for! 😅

I saw a template before of monthly favorites. I wasn’t able to do it in the past wrap ups obviously so I’ll start this month.

And for June, my book of the month is... *drumroll*

The Foundations of Peak Brain Performance

⭐️ The Foundations of Peak Brain Performance by Louisa Nicola

In The Foundations of Peak Brain Performance, neurophysiologist, brain coach, and Neuro Athletics newsletter author Louisa Nicola discusses your brain and mental state in relationship to peak performance. Going beyond physical training and preparation, Nicola provides evidence-based guidance on how to keep your brain operating at the highest level possible using the same methods as elite athletes. In the course, Nicola gives an overview of what’s going on in the brain, laying out the basic biology and functions of the brain; discusses the importance of hydration in ensuring a healthy and effective brain; how sunlight can give your brain a boost; and practical tips for enhancing brain performance. She also shares exercises along the way to help you put what you’ve learned into practice right away. As scientifically rigorous and fascinating as it is accessible and practical, The Foundations of Peak Brain Performance is perfect for anyone looking to improve their cognitive performance — and understand the how and why at the same time.

It was short and substantial. The narration was also excellent!

Other People's Houses by Abbi Waxman

At any given moment in other people's houses, you can find...repressed hopes and dreams...moments of unexpected joy...someone making love on the floor to a man who is most definitely not her husband... *record scratch* As the longtime local carpool mom, Frances Bloom is sometimes an unwilling witness to her neighbors' private lives. She knows her cousin is hiding her desire for another baby from her spouse, Bill Horton's wife is mysteriously missing, and now this... After the shock of seeing Anne Porter in all her extramarital glory, Frances vows to stay in her own lane. But that's a notion easier said than done when Anne's husband throws her out a couple of days later. The repercussions of the affair reverberate through the four carpool families--and Frances finds herself navigating a moral minefield that could make or break a marriage.

First book done in June

It took me the entirety of May to read this slowly, but since I finished it just now, I didn’t count it for last month’s wrap up.

I went back and forth on how to review this book with justice but at the end of the day, I don’t really have much to say save for it being a “light, humorous read.” If you don’t have the same attention span I do, you can probably finish this in one afternoon.

It didn’t really stand out to me as I thought it would. And it definitely wasn’t as funny and memorable like Eleanor Oliphant, as some reviewers claimed. But then I’m biased, so it might be hard to beat that.

I will say though, every character felt like their own. There was clear distinction with their personalities, mannerisms, quirks, and reputation. In my head, I thought it would make a great series.

Thank You For Listening by Julia Whelan

For Sewanee Chester, being an audiobook narrator is a long way from her old dreams, but the days of being a star on film sets are long behind her. She’s found success and satisfaction from the inside of a sound booth and it allows her to care for her beloved, ailing grandmother. When she arrives in Las Vegas last-minute for a book convention, Sewanee unexpectedly spends a whirlwind night with a charming stranger. On her return home, Sewanee discovers one of the world’s most beloved romance novelists wanted her to perform her last book—with Brock McNight, the industry’s hottest, most secretive voice. Sewanee doesn’t buy what romance novels are selling—not after her own dreams were tragically cut short—and she stopped narrating them years ago. But her admiration of the late author, and the opportunity to get her grandmother more help, makes her decision for her. As Sewanee begins work on the book, resurrecting her old romance pseudonym, she and Brock forge a real connection, hidden behind the comfort of anonymity. Soon, she is dreaming again, but secrets are revealed, and the realities of life come crashing down around her once more. If she can learn to risk everything for desires she has long buried, she will discover a world of intimacy and acceptance she never believed would be hers.

(Audiobook review) This book is a gem 😘🤌🏼 So many memorable characters, amazing narration, substantial storyline. I can't believe I officially have a crush on a fictional character - for the first time ever! And to top it off, Nick can do a strong Irish accent. 🥹

[bucksfucks]

          𝐟𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐮𝐩

every month i like to highlight the amazing works i’ve been able to read on this platform. the order which they are in mean nothing—they are all equally amazing and i love them all dearly.

please make sure to check them out and remember to reblog and comment on them; it will make a writers day!

additionally, please read ALL warnings attached to all pieces.

luv you all & enjoy xoxo

           𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

and he is there... ; @bonkywobble ; all i can say is gimmie more!! this is so beautiful, it is truly such a stunning work it may as well be poetry because of how you wrote steve and the reader. i can't get enough i am addicted!

i want to know what love is ; @smutsonian​ ; nothing could have prepared me for this fic let me tell you that. the angst mixed with the love was everything i could have ever wanted and more!

did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? ; @speechlessxx​ ; i’m glad that we can all agree that we all hate steve’s ending because it was trash but this fic was exactly what i needed to soothe my broken heart (even if it broke it even more) ugh this was great!

i’ll always want you sweetheart ; @autumnrose40​ ; literally alpha!steve is my kink what the fuck this was so hot i can’t even put into words how much i needed this

scenting home ; @sweetflowerdreams​ ; i warned you guys that alpha!steve was my kink and uhhh i really meant it because i needed this!! this series is amazing i love it with all my heart!!

we might be falling in love ; @sunstalgia​ ; uhm yes hello i will be needing like three business days to recover from this because it went from sweet and mushy to my panties are on the ground and i am here for it!!!

compromise ; @steebsbabygirl​ ; thigh riding??? yup i’m already hooked this was so unbelievably hot i am a mess and only daddy!steve can help me please and thanks wowowowow

         𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

friend u can keep (f.u.c.k) ; @mariahthelioness29 ; this was so delicious oh my god the way it's written is fantastic and the ending is just so sweet and wholesome it felt like i got a huge hug at the end!

spilled wine ; @sunmoonandbucky ; bye i'm sorry but the talent?? fucking incredible the way this story flowed and the way it was so romantic and i could literally go on forever u are who i look up to wow!

mojitos and leather ; @burninmatches​ ; this series is everything! seriously! i can’t even spoil anything because it’s so good but i can tell you that it has bucky barnes in a leather jacket so what more could you want!!!

cheek to cheek ; @burninmatches​ ; this just made me so unconditionally soft and made me feel like everything was alright ugh it was so sweet and fluffy!!

two types of daddy ; @rebeccccccaaa​ ; this was great! i’m a sucker for fluffy, wholesome smut and this is exactly what you get with this fic and it was phenomenal!!!

           𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫

take care ; @afriendlyblackhottie ; this is not only an incredibly emotional piece that's comforting and so well done, but it is hot and everything you could ever look for in a smut. you don't often see andy barber written like this, but this was phenomenal!

a quiet longing ; @thecornerlot​ ; this was so perfectly written! it was the perfect balance of sweet, but absolutely sinful smut, needless to say it left me hot and bothered but also wanting more!

rules ; @afriendlyblackhottie​ ; roughsexroughsexroughsexroughsex yes and YES holy fuck this was so fucking good i can’t even begin to tell you how much you need to read this oh myyyyyy

anywhere ; @labella420​ ; all i’m saying is that andy could, in fact, give it to me anywhere and i would be happy to oblige this was sosososososo yummy!!!

          𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦 𝐝𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

happy? ; @chrissquares​ ; so. this one hurt. you tugged on my heart strings in all the right way i don’t know why i’m a sucker for angst yet here i am, in a puddle of my own tears. i just want more!! 

you have no idea ; @chrissquares​ ; no but you don’t understand how much of a slut i am for soft!ransom this was literally the best thing i have ever read in my life soft!ransom OWNS me!!

strawberry shortcake ; @brattycherubwrites​ ; UHMMMMMM rosie??? your mind?? wow. i am truly in utter shock at how well this was written (not that you don’t always written phenomenally) but this concept is amazing and i literally can’t get enough of it ahhhhh!!

           𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐬

all mine ; @fallinforevans ; dani u are the love of my life and you came with this and attacked me in all the right way i mean this made me hot and sweaty and i had to take a snack break halfway through this was AMAZING 

disobeying wife ; @vocalharry​ ; spanking and a daddy kink? yes ur coming for my throat and i am here for it holy fuck was this good i need a glass of water 

         𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

can’t sleep ; @emilykjh​ ; if you ask me if i’ll ever get enough of this fic my answer will always be no i am such a slut for tommy boy and oh my gooodddddd was this fic everything. i mean everything!!!

[aliteraryprincess]

January BFT Book Photo Challenge

Day 31: Wrap Up

I got a great start to the year with 15 books, which is 5 ahead of schedule!  For books that weren’t rereads, The Brontës was my overall favorite of the month and The Bear and the Nightingale was my favorite novel.  And of course I enjoyed rereading Wuthering Heights (for something like the millionth time).  My only disappointment was That Inevitable Victorian Thing.  The concept is fascinating, but I found the story very dull.  Can’t wait to see what books February has in store for me! 

5 stars: The Bear and the Nightingale; Inkspell; Wuthering Heights; Inkdeath; Wildwood Dancing; Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister; The Brontës; Gentlemen and Players

4 stars: The Rehearsal; Out of the Pocket; Afterworlds

3 stars: Brideshead Revisited; Old Magic; The Grave Keepers

2 stars: That Inevitable Victorian Thing

[cupcakesandtv]

Five to Seven Years Early or Two Weeks Late Part 2

Read it here on ao3 Read part one on ao3 or tumblr This one is especially for @justmissg

Devi rolled over but Paxton wasn’t next to her. What was the point of staying at his apartment if he wasn’t going to be there when she woke up? Oh god, her mom probably called about ten times. What time was it? She opened her eyes slowly and noticed the sunlight shining in through the curtains. Devi lifted her arms above her head and stretched from fingertips to toes, all wrapped up in Paxton’s crisp sheets. 

(She did not spend the night just anywhere. Having dated Paxton most of high school, she was spoiled because though they had a lot of sex in his garage, if they had it in his bed, the bedding was always clean and well cared for. Her freshman year at Princeton she ended up in some frat boy’s dorm who was using a mattress pad as a sheet and that’s when Devi set the personal rule that if she spent the night somewhere the sheets needed to be clean and there needed to be a top sheet and a bottom sheet. She had standards.)

As if on cue, her phone started to vibrate and she knew without looking it would be her mom. 

“I know you two are getting married but I was supposed to get groceries this morning and you have my car,” Nalini said, skipping any version of hello or good morning. 

“It’s 8AM. Are grocery stores even open at 8AM?” Devi asked, sure that people did not go grocery shopping this early in the morning. 

“Yes, they are. Please bring my car back.” 

Devi groaned and started to sit up, but a wave of nausea overtook her and she laid right back down. “Yeah, I’m coming, gimme 10 minutes.” 

“Get some crackers.” “For what?” she asked, annoyed. “You don’t want me to go to the store for you, do you? I can’t do that today, I’ve got about 18 things on my list.” 

“For your nausea, kanna, I heard you whine. Get some crackers and you’ll feel better in a minute, but don’t take too long. If I don’t get there before 9, all the good produce is gone and all that’s left is organic. The chemicals on apples don’t hurt you, they just want me to pay more!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll be home in a few,” Devi said with a heavy sigh.  

The shower started in the bathroom and oh, that’s where Paxton was. Why he was up so early she didn’t know but at least he hadn’t abandoned her. She considered getting up but another attempt and her stomach roiling put a stop to that. It was a crime that women’s bodies had to do all the work of growing a baby and it was a constant hell of symptoms. She spent the better part of the last 10 years with a monthly period bad enough to knock her out if she missed her dose of acetaminophen and now, when her uterus was doing that thing it was designed for, she got to be nauseous. 

She checked her phone, Fabiola was shouting at Eleanor for some unknown reason. Just texting her name in all caps three or four times and Eleanor hadn’t responded. They all came home for Christmas but Fabiola left two days ago to go back to Stanford. Devi opened instagram and saw a story at the top of the feed from Eleanor that was the obvious reason for Fabiola screaming. She clicked on it and saw Trent and Eleanor spraying champagne at each other with some animated text over top that said “practicing for New Year’s.” Eleanor’s shirt was see through and this was not a story for close friends. It was out there for the whole world to see. Definitely reason for Fab to be shouting. 

Instead of going the Fab route, Devi called Eleanor. 

“Hello?” a groggy Eleanor spoke into the phone. “It’s too early, Devi, this better be important.” 

“We can see your titties on your insta story, babe.” “What?”

“It’s not on close friends, El, your dad and Sharon are gonna see that, but more importantly, so is the cute RA you’re into, He might get the wrong idea about you and Trent.” Devi waited for Eleanor to process. “Not that there’s anything wrong with you and Trent I’m just saying.” 

“Goddamit. I don’t even remember putting this up.” Devi could hear Eleanor roll over and smack Trent. “Why’d you let me put this up?” “You looked hot! People should see that!” Trent’s voice was just as sleepy.

“Bye, Eleanor,” Devi said before hanging up the phone. She sent a text to the group chat letting Fabiola know she’d let Eleanor know what was up on insta. 

Paxton walked into the room, a towel slung low on his hips and his chest just...looking like that. Toned, defined, like a guy who went to college on a swimming scholarship and you know what? No wonder she’d irresponsibly fucked him on his kitchen counter on Thanksgiving Eve. She was only human! Who could resist him? Not her. 

“Hey, baby mama,” he said, a warm smile on his face. 

“Veto on that nickname.” She gave him the finger and frowned. “Remember how hungover you were after Trent’s birthday, the year you and Marcus and Trent broke his trampoline?” Paxton shivered. “Yeah, I remember.” “That’s how I feel, right now, because somebody knocked me up.” 

Paxton’s eyes lit up and he sat down on the bed perpendicular to her. “Oh, oh! That was me. I did that.” 

“Stop being so excited. I feel like shit,” Devi added. 

He immediately schooled his face. “I’m sorry, I thought we were excited? Did you change your mind? I support you in-”

Devi put a hand on his mouth. “Shut up. I didn’t change my mind, I just need a minute to sit up and not feel sick.” 

Paxton snapped and stood up, almost losing his towel in the process and if she wasn’t so sick, she’d have thought about fucking him again, but her stomach wasn’t up for it and her mom was expecting her. The universe was stacked against Devi at this moment. 

He came back quickly enough with a sleeve of crackers and a soda. 

“I was reading last night and apparently you need crackers and some sugar first thing in the morning. Probably juice but I don’t have any so instead, I brought you a soda.” 

Devi gulped. “You were reading? About pregnancy?”

Paxton nodded, quickly. “Yeah, I mean, if you wanna back out, we’ve got a little time for you to decide because it doesn’t exactly sound like a walk in the park.” 

He was so sincere and concerned and Devi felt tears well in her eyes. She cleared her throat and took a cracker from the sleeve he was offering to cover for her sudden outburst of emotions. 

“I already called the airline and got on your flight. I figured I’ll go back with you today and then come home in two weeks, pack up this place, and put my shit in my parents’ garage until we decide what to do.” 

“You bought a same day airline ticket? Didn’t that cost a fortune?” she asked, the cracker hitting her throat and feeling funny so she grabbed the soda from his hand and took a swig. “Shouldn’t we be like...saving money for baby shit?”

“I had points.” He stood up and went towards the dresser, grabbing pants out of the drawer. Not looking at her as he spoke again, “Did you...not want me to come back with you? I thought…”

“No!” Devi said, trying to sit up again, feeling slightly less like she might puke from the motion. “I’m glad you did that. Thank you.” 

He turned around and smiled at her, tugging a shirt over his head, before sitting down next to her again. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, softly. “I’d like to do more than that but you’re probably not up to it with your stomach being gross, huh?”

Devi closed her eyes and nodded, tasting the barest hint of acid, but swallowing and taking another drink of the soda. 

“I already packed. I can follow you over to your mom’s and we can hang out. If you say, wanted to come with me to talk to my parents or if not, I need to get a haircut too, you probably don’t want to hang out with me for that.” “Don’t cut your hair,” Devi said with a pout. Paxton laughed. 

“Uh, it’s too long and I don’t have anyone to cut it in New Jersey so,” he replied. Devi pressed her hand into his hair and scratched at his scalp. “Fine, but I like it like this,” she said. He shook his head and Devi pulled her hand out of his hair, looking behind him to see his suitcase all packed and ready. “Sure you don’t need to tell the other girls that you’re going out of town?

“Other girls? I thought we covered this last night when I was embarrassingly pathetic.” Paxton tossed her the top she came over in and her panties. “It’s just you.” 

Devi blushed, she tried to hide her face by putting her shirt on at that moment. 

“I suppose you probably have a bunch of texts to send, letting everyone know you’re off the market?” Paxton had this goofy kind of smile on his face and Devi’s heart flipped. 

But before she could respond, her phone vibrated again. Devi rolled her eyes and left it. 

“Let’s go before my mom decides she’s gonna kill both of us.” 

--

The brief encounter with Nalini was better than Paxton could have hoped. She took the keys from Devi, put her shoes on and then doubled back. She put her hand on his shoulder, gave him a tight smile, and said, “Congratulations.” And then left for the store shouting something about stone fruit being too expensive in a state that never gets cold. 

So having lunch with his parents that he hastily arranged seemed like it would be a walk in the park. Nalini Vishwakumar congratulated him! They’d announce the pregnancy and marriage to his parents and then they’d be out of there in time for Paxton to get a haircut before they needed to be at the airport. 

Or. 

That’s how it should have gone. 

“Grampax! I didn’t know you’d be here!” Devi hugged Paxton’s grandpa. 

“Don’t call him that,” Paxton added, taking his turn to hug his grandpa. 

“But I love it! Is it cool with you, sir?” Devi asked. Ted nodded. “Please! It’s my favorite.” 

“Yeah, it’s on his license plate, Paxton. You don’t put shit on your license plate that you don’t want people to call you.” Devi gave Paxton a knowing look. 

“Ojichan, please don’t encourage her.” But Paxton shook his head knowing he was losing this one. 

“I didn’t know you were in town, Devi! I didn’t know you two were hanging out again,” Ted said, putting his arm around Devi and walking her into the kitchen. 

“Just home for Christmas,” Devi explained and then looked at Paxton over her shoulder. “You didn’t tell anybody we’d been hanging out?” Her smile fell and she leaned over to him. “Am I about to look like a whore because your family didn’t know we’d been…..seeing each other at all?”

“No,” Paxton tried. “My mom just loves you so much if I mentioned it, I knew she’d get her hopes up and it’d be a whole thing and-” “And now it’s a whole thing and I look slutty. Okay, cool,” Devi whispered back, looking much more nervous than when she was chumming it up with Ted. “I need to use the ladies room,” Devi excused herself. “What happened, you knock her up or something?” Paxton’s grandpa joked. Paxton cringed and Ted’s eyes got wide as he whispered, “Shit.” 

“She’s probably puking in the bathroom,” he said without thought. Keeping secrets had never been his strong suit. 

“We love Devi so if this is what it took to get you two to stop dancing around each other, God works in mysterious ways, and all that.” He gave Paxton a pat on the back. 

“Let’s not saddle God with my moment of poor preparation when I was out of condoms, Ojichan.” Paxton shrugged. “Anyways, we’re very excited but please wing man me into a good segue to tell my parents?”

“I’d leave that bit about the condoms out,” Ted said, laughing to himself. “Yeah, good call.” 

“Paxton,” a concerned June Hall-Yoshida started as she came into the kitchen. “Is Devi puking in our downstairs bathroom?” “Probably,” Paxton said, giving a tight smile. 

“You know I have a delicate immune system in the winter, she’s not going to get me sick, is she? Maybe I’ll go get my mask.” June started digging through a kitchen drawer looking for a face mask. 

“You can’t catch what she has, Mom, you’re fine.” 

“We hope,” Ted said under his breath, causing Paxton to elbow his grandpa. 

“She’s not sick,” Paxton added.

“Did you take that poor girl out last night and let her drink too much?” June asked, a tone of judgement directed at Paxton. “No,” he said. “She’s-” “Here, I’m here!” Devi said, coming in and sitting down at the table next to where Paxton was standing. “Sorry about that.” 

“Was Devi puking in the-” Paxton’s dad came in and stopped when he saw Devi. 

“I’m okay! We should eat,” she said, gesturing to the spread on the table. “This looks great.” 

--

“You graduate soon, don’t you, Devi?” Paxton’s dad asked in between scooping himself some veggies and passing the bowl to his wife. 

“Yes, in May. Now I need to decide which law school I’m going to and then of course, my to-do list is constantly growing.”

“Among other things,” Ted muttered with a laugh and Paxton gave him a withering look. He was not helping. 

“Speaking of,” Paxton started. He wasn’t getting any further in this conversation without breaking the news. He thought it would be easy but he was finding himself more and more anxious about it. Devi put a hand on his knee though and very slightly shook her head. “I’m going to go out to New Jersey with Devi.” 

“Oh!” June exclaimed, her hands covering her smile quickly. “That’s exciting. Take a little vacation before school starts up for her again? Did you get into a physical therapy program out there that you are announcing? Is that why we’re all here? Did you decide to go there for-”

“No,” Paxton interrupted. 

“Good, New Jersey? Too far,” Paxton’s dad added.  

“Well,” Paxton held up his hand. “I am going to New Jersey for a while. Until Devi graduates.” 

Kevin’s fork stopped midair and he turned his full attention to Paxton. “You’re barely here and you live across town. Now you’re moving to New Jersey? With your ex-girlfriend?”

“I’m pregnant,” Devi blurted out, a big smile that quickly faltered as Kevin Hall-Yoshida turned his glare to her. Devi turned to Paxton. “You said they were going to be excited?”

“I thought they would,” Paxton replied, looking at Devi for a moment, giving her a stilted smile and then looking back at his dad. He tried to save the situation with more information. “She’s pregnant and we’re happy and getting married.” 

Ted smiled, June smiled. Kevin’s face didn’t change at all. He finally put his fork down and looked at his wife. June schooled her face and Ted stood up quickly. “Devi, you wanna see where we buried the cat in the backyard?”

“Why?” Devi asked Ted, confused. “You wanna get out of here or not?” he whispered. Devi caught on before nodding and standing up to follow Ted out of the room. She got three steps away before she turned back to Paxton, kissed his cheek, and then left again. 

Paxton appreciated the small gesture, it felt like Devi was metaphorically behind him but he was glad she wasn’t in the room anymore. Whatever his dad’s problem was, he didn’t think Devi needed to hear the riot act from him. This wasn’t her fault. Well. Not hers alone. 

“Okay well, right off the bat I’d like to remind you that I’m an adult, I’ve graduated from college, I’m going to physical therapy school and pay my own bills so, telling you about Devi and I having a baby is obviously a courtesy. I don’t need anything from you two. Devi and I have got it. We’re not kids anymore.” 

It felt weird to have to defend himself from his parents but it was apparently necessary. 

“I don’t think your father is-” Paxton’s mom tried but his dad shook his head, causing his mom to stop. 

“You know, Ojichan isn’t getting any younger, as is, we’ll probably move him into the house in the next couple of years. And you’re never here. We never see you.” 

“He’s thrilled for us. Why are you bringing him up?” Paxton replied, very confused. 

“Thrilled? That you’re moving cross country for who knows how long? That you never come around?” Paxton’s dad sighed. 

“I don’t think we’re fighting about the same thing, Dad.” Paxton looked at his mom, trying to pick up any clue he could about what was bothering his dad. 

“He could get sick at any moment! And you’ll be in another state! Hell, he likes you more than he likes me and you’re gonna leave him?”

“I’m not leaving anybody, I’m going to New Jersey for six months with my pregnant fiancé so I can support her in her last semester at school.” Paxton leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. 

“Maybe your dad is feeling a little surprised and betrayed by your-” 

“Don’t speak for me, June,” his dad interrupted again. “I can speak for myself!” “You’re doing a terrible job at it,” June snapped back, then looked at Paxton. “Your dad has been feeling a little neglected lately. He can’t possibly say it’s because he misses you so he’s using your grandfather as an excuse.” 

Kevin huffed. “You told me we were going to refinish the pergola in the backyard six months ago and you have barely come by except when it’s a holiday. I was hoping we’d start to see you more in the new year, not less.” Paxton loosened his stance, putting his hands on his knees now. 

“I’m sorry about that, I did say that and then I got busy with grad school applications and the holidays and you’re right, I said I’d help. I’m going to New Jersey for two weeks, then the plan was for me to come home, pack up my apartment since my lease is up in February, and then head back. In that time, I can definitely help with the pergola.”

“Devi barely comes home so now you’ll barely come home,” Kevin said, not happy with Paxton’s solution. 

“She’s come home almost every three day weekend this year, actually,” Paxton explained. “It’s why we even had time to…”

“What about your job?” his Dad countered. Except instead of concern it felt like judgement. Paxton worked for a small swimwear company that made professional suits for athletes. He already worked from home because the company didn’t have a physical office yet so he wasn’t at all worried about his job. He’d just keep doing it in New Jersey. 

“I’m going to keep working. They’ll be fine with me relocating. They knew I was going to grad school soon anyway so it’s not going to be a huge blow for them.” “Do you have to go with her? It’s not like she’s having the baby tomorrow. You could stay here until she finishes school.” Paxton’s dad was really grasping at straws. Knowing it was because his dad missed him made it less contentious and more heartwarming though. 

“I want to be with her for all the appointments and stuff. And I want to help where I can. She didn’t do this on her own.” Paxton shrugged. “And I just want to be there. I love her and I miss being near her.” 

The statement softened Kevin’s stern look finally. 

“It would have been nice to hear you were dating before this announcement,” June said, a knowing smile on her face. “But I am very excited.” 

“I’ll make an effort to be home more,” Paxton said. “But also if you could just directly let me know that’s a problem instead of glaring at Devi and I, that would be very helpful, Dad.” Kevin cleared his throat and looked down, embarrassed. “Fair.” 

--

One more quick stop at the Vishwakumar house to get Devi’s bags and hug her mother and grandmother (who was absolutely bowled over with the news of Devi’s impending pregnancy. She actually looked like she might cry.) And then Paxton and Devi were on the plane. 

“Been a wild couple of days,” Paxton said, stowing their bags in the compartment above their row of seats. 

“You can always back out,” Devi said as he sat down next to her. “There’s still time for us both to change our minds.” Devi didn’t want to change her mind. She absolutely wanted to have this baby, even if pregnancy symptoms already had her exhausted. But she didn’t want Paxton to feel obligated and she didn’t want to do it without him. 

“Nope, not changing my mind.” He didn’t hesitate until she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Unless you are having second thoughts?”

“Paxton Hall-Yoshida,” she said, her voice already tired. “I’ve loved you since the third grade, the only way I’m changing my mind is if you don’t want to do this with me.” 

She didn’t move to look at him and she might have already fallen asleep but Paxton looked to the side, trying to see her face. 

“I love you, too,” he said before pressing a kiss to her head. 

[bludgersandbroomsticks]

October Wrap-up!

Yes, I’ve changed monthly favorites to wrap-ups because I actually read more than 0 books the past month and wanted to brag about my remarkable reading speed. It’s remarkable. All the other book bloggers who read 420 books in a month are shaking.

an accurate representation of my reading speed

BOOKS 1) Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

I read this the first day of October cause…

[arrow-guy]

Author and Auror (5/??)

Synopsis: Eleanore Vaughan has never been one for the spotlight. Her cousin, Rosaline, is the one best suited to the limelight, and is happier for the attention. Though Nora is most comfortable tucked away in her book shop, what happens when Grindelwald’s sudden takeover flips her world upside-down and thrusts her into the inner circle?

A/N: Back again with another installment in my collaborative work with @thorne93​. For anyone who’s keeping up with both fics, please note that I am severely behind of where Thorne is with her half, but I’ll catch up eventuaTime for a date? Question mark? Who know’s what it is (I do, I know what it is, because I wrote it.) Regardless, time for almost drunk adventures with Theseus and Nora, please enjoy!

Previously, with Rosaline…

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong​

Pairing: Theseus ScamanderxOFC

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: None

Part 4

“We’ve reached a deal with the American Ministry to allow us to take on Ms. Goldstein as a liaison.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!”

“She’ll be housed by the Ministry from now on, so your parents will be freed up a bit.”

“Does this mean the Aurors are able to begin working on the Grindelwald case? Actually looking for Rosaline instead of badgering Newt and I for information?”

“Thankfully, yes.” Theseus sighs and combs a hand through his hair. “We’ve made enough progress that the department head finally took the issue seriously.”

“Well it’s not as if he’s been a particularly huge fan of anything that Dumbledore gets himself tangled up in. I’m not surprised he’d put off this investigation for as long as possible.”

Theseus snorts. “He’s a stubborn man.”

“Mmm, that he is.” I watch as he scratches a few notes into the margin of the file he’s working on. “You should come to pub night.”

“You want me to do what?”

“Come on, Theseus, it’s our monthly pub night. Come with us!”

“I’m not drinking with James and Tessa,” he says. “They’re practically children!”

“I never said you had to drink with them. They invite their friends and they have a nice time on their own.” I lean on his desk. “You’ve been working really hard. You deserve a break.”

“I don’t know…”

“Fine,” I sigh loudly. “This is a thinly veiled attempt to ask you to get a drink with me. You caught me.”

I watch as a smile slowly shapes his lips and he finally looks away from his work. “Ms. Vaughan, are you flirting with me?”

I smile and tilt my head to the side. “Guess you’ll have to come to pub night and find out.”

“Aw, come on!”

I push off his desk and head for the door. “Ten tonight, Theseus,” I call over my shoulder. “Don’t be late.”

“What pub?” he calls back.

“The one three doors down from my store. Don’t. Be. Late.”

“You actually invited the Head Auror out for a drink?!” James asks. “Who are you?”

“Your boss.”

He nods. “Very true.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

“You think he’ll actually show?”

I shrug. “He might. If he doesn’t I’ll head home early. No harm done.”

Samuel knocks twice on the bar in front of me. “Looks like you’ll have to stick around a while yet.”

I look up at the bartender, confused. “What?”

He gestures to the door. “Your boy just walked in.”

Theseus stands just to the side of the doorway, next to the coat rack, scanning the late Friday night crowd. I lift one hand and wave to him and when his eyes settle on me, he smiles and his shoulders relax. He carefully picks his way through the throng of people and meets me at the bar.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

He shrugs. “I was held up at the office.” He tilts his head to the side. “You changed.”

“Oh, yeah,” I kick at a loose nail sticking out of the floor and the flowy leg of my dark maroon slacks swishes. “I was working on that book I’ve been writing and knocked over the ink pot. Couldn’t really go out with a huge ink splotch on my trousers, could I?”

“You look nice,” he says. My face heats. “It’s a good color on you.”

“Glad you think so.” I gesture to the bartender. “What’s your poison?”

James snorts beside me and I shove him away. He muffles his laughter and wanders off in search of Tessa and their friends. Theseus smiles and orders firewhiskey. We take our drinks to an open booth and Theseus sinks into the soft leather of the bench seat.

“You know, I haven’t been out like this in probably five years.”

“You were in a relationship.”

“Yeah, but I still could have gone out for pub night.”

“With your subordinates?”

“You do it!”

“Tessa and James aren’t my subordinates. They’re my employees. It’s different.”

“How?”

“They’re basically family. How many of your Aurors could you say that about? Sure, you’ve got each other’s backs, but are they truly your family?”

He scowls. “Bloody Ravenclaw.”

“That’s not an answer, Theseus.”

“You always want answers, don’t you?”

“I’m a poor mix of Ravenclaw and Head Auror’s best friend. It’s in my nature.” I watch as he sips his drink. “You don’t have to actually answer.”

“No, it’s fine.” He shakes his head. “I never thought of it like that before.”

“You don’t have to. I overstepped.” I chew at the inside of my cheek. “I’m projecting. It’s not fair to you, especially after the month you’ve had.”

“You’ve been holding everyone together since Paris,” he says softly. “I’m surprised you’ve fared this well.”

“Someone has to take care of you idiots,” I mumble and fold my arms on the table.

Theseus reaches across and grabs one of my hands and squeezes gently. “Maybe you should take your own advice then, hm?”

“And what advice is that?”

“Let someone else take care of you for a change, Nora.”

I laugh. “Yeah, maybe.” I rest my chin on my forearm. “You think we could start over? Just have a few drinks and talk about work? Forget about everything else that’s happening for a bit?”

He nods. “Sounds doable.”

I grin. “Fantastic.”

“I don’t remember you being such a lightweight,” I laugh as Theseus slings an arm around my shoulders.

“I wasn’t!” he insists. “I just have-haven’t had much to drink recently.” “Sounds like you should have watched what you were drinking instead.”

He hums. “Yeah, maybe. You still seeing that bloke from down the street?”

“Robert?” I shake my head. “No, I proved to be too much of a challenge for him halfway through dinner and he excused himself.” “Halfway?” I nod and he whistles. “Weak. Men are weak.”

“You’re a man, Theseus.”

“Was I saying I’m exempt?”

I laugh. “He wasn’t as nice as I hoped he’d be. It’s fine.”

“You deserve someone so much better than that tosser.”

“I appreciate that.”

He pulls me firmly against his side when he stumbles slightly and I do my best to right him.

“I didn’t mean to drink so much.”

“Then why did you?”

Theseus laughs and leans heavily on my shoulder. “I don’t know. Liquid courage? Being around you makes me nervous sometimes.”

“Wait, what?” My arm around his middle tightens and he chuckles to himself, pressing one fist to his mouth. “Why on earth would you be nervous around me?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs and I lurch forward under his weight. “Where are we going?”

“Back to mine. You’re too drunk to apparate. You can spend the night.”

“I don’t want to impose,” he slurs out.

“Theseus, you’re completely pissed, and I’m tipsy. There’s no way I’d be able to safely get you back to your place myself.”

“Alright.” He nods in quick jerky motions. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“Because you’re my friend and I care a great deal about you.”

He falls silent and allows me to walk him back to my home. Halfway there it begins to rain. Theseus casts an umbrella charm that only half works and we’re nearly soaked by the time we’re twenty feet from my stoop.

Theseus seems to have sobered up some and has stopped leaning on me and instead leans on a lamppost. He tilts his head towards the sky and let’s the rain slick his hair back. I shove my hands in my pockets and watch.

“I remember the last time you got caught in the rain,” I murmur. “Something changed that night. Between us, at least.”

He sighs and nods. “The last person who had treated me like that had been either Leta or Newt.”

“Like what?”

“Like you cared.” He finally opens his eyes and holds out a hand to me. “You… I’m not sure. You’ve always been here. And I’ve been too daft to understand what that meant. My head still gets a little fuzzy when I think about it too long.”

He pulls me closer when I take his hand. “We’ll get sick if we stay out here much longer. We should go inside.”

He tilts his head to the side. “May I kiss you, Nora?”

“You want to?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“And is this something you’ve thought about outside of being drunk?” He frowns. “I only ask because I don’t want to… to get my hopes up and then have you waking up in the morning and changing your mind.”

“What? Why would I change my mind?”

“You watched your fiance die, Theseus. I don’t want to be her replacement. I don’t think I could handle it. And how am I supposed to be sure that you’re ready to move on?”

“Merlin, Nora.” He places a hand on either side of my face. “You could never replace anyone. You are so bloody special. Shit, I swear you’re the only one who’s made me feel anything in two months.”

“You never curse,” I squeak.

“Is that all you got from that?!” His head falls back against the lamppost with a soft thud.

“I don’t-fuck, Theseus, I don’t know!” I pull his hands away from my face and wrap my arms around myself. “It’s freezing out here and we’re both soaked. Can we please go inside and talk about this when we’re sober?”

He stares at me for a moment before he nods and pushes off the post. He reaches out and takes my hand. I’m surprised by it’s warmth and unintentionally hold on tighter. Once we’re inside, Theseus heads to the guest room and I watch as he closes the door behind him. I pull a towel from the linen closet and close myself in my room.

As soon as the door is closed, I strip down and towel off as best I can. I wrap my hair up in the towel and dress in flannel pajamas. I sit on my bed and pull open the drawer of my bedside table. A phial of sobering potion sits nestled between pepper up, wide eye, and my emergency wiggenweld. I pluck the sobering potion from among it’s friends and place it in my pocket. I wring as much water from my hair as I can and comb through it before sliding my feet into a pair of slippers and heading downstairs. I start a fire in the hearth and move on to make a pot of tea.

Theseus enters the kitchen as I’m pouring a dose of sobering potion into each tea cup. I hand one to Theseus and sit down at the table. I drink my tea quickly and rest my head against the edge of the table. I wait till Theseus has set his teacup down to look up again. He sits across the table, regarding me calmly.

“I think that got a little out of hand,” I say softly.

“So me telling you how I feel is out of hand?”

I shake my head. “That’s not what I mean at all.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I care about you so much, Theseus. But the last thing I expected you to do tonight was ask to kiss me. Hell, I never expected you’d ever want anything more than a hug from me.”

“I figured you’d prefer that I ask to kiss you rather than just doing it.”

“I don’t understand why you’d want to in the first place.”

“Because you’re you,” he says. “You’re the one who took me in and made sure I took care of myself. Or even left the house, for that matter. You’re the one who made me go back to work and realize that I have people who care about me. All of the time that I have spent with you since we came back from Paris…” he shakes his head. “You are the first person I think of when I wake up in the morning. Somehow, I think it’s the same for you.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and nod. “It is.”

“Then what was that out in the street?”

I swallow thickly. “I don’t kiss drunk men.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Is that it?”

My shoulders sag. “You scare the shit out of me and you have since day one. If all you wanted from me was one night, there’s no way I would go through with it. I don’t want… You’re my best friend-”

“Newt is your best friend.”

“You’re one of my best friends. If our relationship changes, I don’t want it to be because of a mistake.”

“If I wanted a mistake, I wouldn’t have spent the night with you.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Eleanore, you are much more important to me than a one night stand.”

“So… two nights, then?”

“Three, actually. Maybe four, but then I’d have to cut all ties. Can’t let feelings get involved, now can we?”

I laugh. “Obviously not.”

I watch as he slowly gets up from the table. My smile slips away as he pulls me to my feet and dips his head so he can look me in the eyes.

“I never, ever want to hurt you, Nora. Never. I just want to be near you. And if you feel for me as I do for you, I’m going to keep asking to kiss you till you let me.”

“Promise?”

He nods. “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

He smiles and pulls me into a tight hug. I press my nose to his chest and hug him back. He kisses to the top of my head.

“Am I still allowed to stay the night?”

“Of course.” I feel a hum rumble through his chest and I hug him tighter.

Theseus catches me as I leave my room the next day. He smiles warmly and leans on the guest room door frame. He’s already dressed in his suit from the night before.

“Good morning,” he says.

I scrub my hands over my face and try to smooth down my hair. I breathe deeply before responding.

“How do you look like that after drinking like you did last night?” I shake my head. “It’s like you’re not human.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“You look like a normal, operational, handsome person. I just look like rubbish in the mornings.”

He frowns. “I don’t think you’ve got that quite right. I feel rather lucky to be able to see you before you’ve fully woken up.”

I scowl at him. “Don’t lie to me, Theseus.”

He moves across the hallway and leans on my bedroom doorway. “Is there any way I can prove to you I’m not lying to you?”

“No.”

He laughs and pulls me into a hug. “I’ll have to work on that. I’ve been called into work. There’s new information about our case.”

I frown. “Alright. I’ll be at Newts tonight, if you need me.”

“I’ll try to visit if I can get away.”

“Be careful.”

He smiles. “You know I will.”

I press a quick kiss to his cheek before he slips his jacket on. He glides down the stairs and pauses at the door to wave to me. The door closes and I sigh before going back into my room to get ready for the day.

----------

Part 6

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, please reblog, comment, and/or shoot me ask! Feedback would be greatly appreciated!

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 36

AO3 link here

On the first day of his practicum, Nate falls in love.

Not truly or entirely, not yet, but enough that when he looks back he’ll be able to pinpoint the moment.

He’s getting his orientation, trying to take in all the information flowing out of Janice, his supervisor, even as he keeps part of his mind on memorizing the layout of the senior home. It’s not an overly fancy place but it is large, the building and grounds clearly repurposed from some rambling former life. Most importantly, though, there are enough windows to let in the sun, they’ve actually managed to do something about the usual smell of medication and age, and the staff smiles at the residents and at each other.

He’s already met a couple dozen people today, finger-spelling their names inside his pockets to try to cement them into his memory, though he has no idea how many he’ll actually remember by the end of the day.

“Oh, let’s go say hello to Eleanor,” Janice says as they pass the third floor lounge. Nate nods, even if he had been slightly glad that they seemed ready to move onto the last floor until whatever window glimpse had pulled Janice in.

“Eleanor is actually the reason you’re here in the first place,” Janice says, glancing over her shoulder at him as she opens the door. “She started as a volunteer all the way back when she was a freshman at UVA, but when she finished her masters we were able to scoop her up as our new assistant director. She applied to have us as a placement for the art therapy program and luckily we were accepted and were able to bring you in.”

The room is partly full - a trio playing cards, a man drifting off and startling himself back awake in front of an afternoon soap opera - but it’s obvious which one is Eleanor. She wears her deep brown hair in a glossy twist and that’s what he sees first. She’s talking to an elderly woman in an armchair, crouched down and balancing on her heels despite her black pencil skirt and businesslike ice blue blouse.

“—make sure it’s all set up for you,” she is saying as they come over, and the old woman gives an apprehensive nod. Eleanor pats her hand and starts to stand, but the woman takes her fingers and grips them.

“I promise,” Eleanor says with firm compassion, kneeling back down and bringing her other hand over to grip back. “I’ll make sure.” Finally the woman lets Eleanor stand, and Janice moves to greet her, trusting Nate to follow.

“Mrs. Lasko is worried that the staff at her former facility didn’t let the listening book library know that her address has changed. Her supply of cassettes is running low and she’s getting a bit nervous.” Eleanor’s voice is low and hoarse, but not harsh; it’s just as if she’s sort of whispering. Even so, she sounds businesslike and her gaze meets Janice’s directly. She’s probably around Nate’s age, no more than two years older. “I’m going to call over and make sure that it’s been updated.”

“Wonderful. Eleanor, I just wanted to introduce the newest member of the activities department, the art therapy student we were bringing in?”

“Eleanor Grey,” she says, holding out her hand. “Welcome.”

He shakes. Though he’s never had a problem making eye contact before, her eyes are particularly penetrating. “Eleanor,” he says. “Hello. It’s good to meet you. I’m Nate Carter.”

Wednesday night, he finds himself staying late to help with the game night that is apparently run monthly.

“Not exactly your purview, but if you wanting to make a good impression gets me home earlier, I have no complaints,” Janice teases as she packs her bag at precisely five minutes to five. He doesn’t mention that the thought of making a good impression has only now crossed his mind. “Just don’t forget that these folks might look sweet, but they’ll do almost anything to win at Bingo.”

Luckily, Bingo isn’t actually on the schedule tonight. He and Eleanor work quietly beside each other making sure that the decks of cards and sets of checkers are complete, and that particular numbers of chairs are set up around the Scrabble and Clue boards.

“Mr. Feeney isn’t allowed to play Trivial Pursuit anymore,” Eleanor warns just before they open the doors. “He’s memorized all the answers, and last time it nearly caused a riot.”

“Anything else I should know just now?” Nate asks, raising an eyebrow, because they can hear the clamor of the crowd right outside. It’s now almost 7:01.

She smiles at him, the first time he’s seen it from her: a little smirk that turns into a full grin, creasing her eyes at the corners. “Have fun.”

And when he looks over at her throughout the evening, she is having fun: explaining the rules of Uno with endless patience and laughing at the vindictiveness with which the players use Wild Draw 4 and Skip cards, going to change out the music with Mrs. Andretti’s advice and then taking the old woman’s hands for a short waltz.

She’s been so serious in their interactions so far, and he appreciates that professionalism and care as a colleague. But if coming to game night means he’ll get to see this side of her, the smiling, loose-shouldered side, he’ll be back for game night next month too.

His new apartment isn’t particularly large and it’s up two flights of worn stairs, but the grocery store is only a block over. He goes there Friday night after work, bypassing the busier bars and restaurants as he does. Pushing his cart to the end of the aisle, trying to decide whether he should try raspberry jam instead of his usual strawberry, he turns the corner to find Eleanor there. She’s in loose jeans and a fuzzy striped sweater instead of her neat work clothes, consulting a grocery list. Through the paper, he can see her neat looped handwriting, the meticulous check marks beside each acquired item.

He’s surprised to see her - she so often works late, and he didn’t even know she lived around here. They exchange pleasantries, comparing addresses (her place is about three blocks away from the store, but in the opposite direction from his) and impressions of the neighborhood.

It’s strange, he thinks. Two weeks ago, I would have just passed her without thinking twice and now I can’t stop noticing.

“You’ve been in the area more than a month now. I wonder how many times we’ve passed each other without even realizing it,” she says, and then looks a little embarrassed. “Sorry if that was a bit strange.”

“No,” he says quietly. “I was just thinking the same thing.” He moves aside to allow another shopper to pass, realizing that they’ve positioned themselves fairly awkwardly along the aisle cap.

“Eleanor,” he asks, realizing that they don’t have much more time before they need to start moving on. “I was planning on having some people over for brunch tomorrow morning. Trying to get to know my neighbors now that I don’t have any more moving boxes around for them to trip over. I know we’re not exactly neighbors, but do you want to join us?”

He can see a swift, awkward panic in her eyes. He takes a step back. “Only if you want to,” he adds. “It would be around eleven, and very casual. Just drop by if you want to, have some pancakes, leave when you’re ready.”

“I’m an early riser,” she says after a pause. “Eleven would be more like lunch for me. But I’d be glad to come.”

He grins. “It really will be breakfast for me - hence the pancakes - but I’ll be glad to have you.”

“Any plans for Thanksgiving?” Nate asks absently a month later. His long legs are extended in front of him and he considers the half sandwich remaining in its wrapping as he stretches his cramped, charcoal-stained fingers. He had wondered whether choosing something involving art as a career would stop him from enjoying it as a hobbyist, but that hasn’t proven to be the case. Several weeks ago, when Eleanor had found him eating lunch in a stairwell, trying to get a break from the good-natured but constant chatter in the staff room and the office he shares with Janice and the others on the activities staff, she had invited him to eat in her office and he’d come gratefully with his lunch bag in one hand and a book in the other. But as the weeks have gone on, he’s started bringing a sketchpad instead, taking advantage of the peace and space offered by the room in order to experiment with media and technique in a way he hasn’t in a while.

Eleanor still prefers books, taking bites between turned pages. Even now, she repeats “Thanksgiving?” a little vacantly, as if she’s only half heard it, swimming her way back up as she finishes her page. (She’s reading a lengthy biography of Rosalind Franklin, the late Nobel Prize winning scientist. Her taste tends toward dense biographies of women throughout history, or sometimes books about music.) “My plan is essentially to do this,” she says, mouth tipping upward at the corners as she hefts the book. “St. Louis is a little far for just a few days, so I’ll help with the holiday lunch here and then go relax at home.”

“You could,” he says, looking up at her, “come to my family’s place.” He knows that she started volunteering with the elderly back in Missouri - her grandparents (“two mean old clams”) had been put in a care home when she was a teenager and when she went to visit them, she was adopted by the other, kinder residents - and considers most of those that she’s met and cared for surrogate family. He adds, “We eat on the later side, around 6, so you’d have time to see everyone here first.”

“That’s very nice of you to offer,” she says, placing her book squarely on her desk and folding her hands on top of it like birds wings. “But I couldn’t disrupt your holiday like that. I’m sure your family doesn’t need to try to squeeze in a stranger.”

“Actually, my father would probably never forgive me if he thought I hadn’t offered,” says Nate truthfully. “And we’ll be hosting everyone, my sisters, my cousins, so it’s already a couple dozen people, and no trouble to add another chair. As long as you don’t mind talking to a bunch of opinionated people - and from what I’ve seen so far from your discussions with the people around here, you don’t - I think you would have a pretty good time.”

For a moment he thinks she will politely decline, thrown off by the sudden and strange invitation, and as he prepares for the words, he realizes how much he does not want her to say no.

And she doesn’t.

“So,” Rose says, eyeing him keenly from the passenger seat as he navigates the road to their parents’ house. She’d had to work until that last minute and only came into Union Station earlier today. She’d been fairly crabby on arrival because the Amtrak was apparently packed full of people arriving for last minute holiday meals, and only became crabbier when Nate refused to let her drive (“Come on, I never have a chance to do it in the city!” “Lucky for the city.”). But she’s apparently settled as she starts in on the family gossip. “I hear you’re bringing someone.”

“Just a friend who didn’t have other plans. She’s just about my boss," Nate says patiently, eyes on the road, even though Janice is his boss, and Eleanor’s boss Cheryl is Janice’s boss too. “Her name is Eleanor.”

Rose says, “Oh, Nate and Nora, hmmm?” Her voice trails teasingly upward.

“She goes by Eleanor, not Nora,” he tells her, and then adds, with compulsive honesty, “Well, sometimes I call her El.”

It had slipped out one day at work - “Thanks, El” when she told him in passing in the hallway that the staff meeting time had changed, and when he’d caught himself and apologized she had told him after a pause that though she had never gone by a nickname, it didn’t bother her.

Rose looks at him as if she can see the memory on his face. She raises a considering eyebrow. “Alright. Eleanor,” is all she says.

The house is already overflowing - Nate’s parents and sisters, three Barnes children along with their spouses and kids, the Starks and Jarvises who arrived that afternoon - by the time Eleanor rings the doorbell. (She’d chosen to drive herself, probably so she could leave if things were too awkward.) Nate’s mother answers it.

“Come in, please,” she says, ushering Eleanor through the door.

“Thank you so much for having me,” Eleanor says, presenting a bottle of wine because Nate had told her firmly that there would already be far too much food. (Nate doesn’t know anything about wine - that he can identify not only red and white but rosé as well is about the extent of it - but Mom knows these things and Nate can see that she approves.) Eleanor wears a long, silky looking dress, brownish red with little yellow flowers. It’s fairly frumpy and doesn’t necessarily flatter her coloring. Nate keeps finding his eyes drawn to her.

He had worried, after inviting her, that she might be scared off by his large, loud family, all the names to learn, the long histories which she would have no background in. But she fits with ease, introducing herself to his parents with quiet and heartfelt thanks, making conversation in limited ASL with Emma about her advocacy work on Deaf underemployment, talking to Aunt Violet about crochet (apparently one of the residents had taught her; Aunt Vi professes herself glad to find a fellow crocheter considering Aunt Josie’s preferred hobby is rug hooking - “I think everyone on our block has one of her rugs and good thing too or our apartment would be overflowing with them”), discussing some allegedly famous soprano with Aunt Maria, the Franklin biography with Uncle Howard and Aunt Layla. She keeps trying to stand and help in the kitchen while Nate’s mother and sisters insist that she should relax. Nate’s father eventually lets her hand around dessert plates and forks, and she gives him a grateful smile at being able to contribute something. She’s certainly no artist but when they play pictionary after dinner she takes it as seriously as the rest of them do, and Nate feels himself attuned to the firm, focused, particular sound of her voice cutting through the clamor with a sure guess.

As the little ones, Jimmy and Baby’s kids, start getting cranky and everyone tries to soothe them, Nate finds Eleanor looking at the triptych of paintings on the living room wall. The first shows the sky at dawn, the next at sunrise, and the third with the sun fully risen. Nate can see the flaws in them now, the different techniques and colors he might have used, but he still likes them anyway.

“Your father said he painted,” Eleanor says as Nate comes up behind her shoulder. “Are these some of his?”

“Oh,” says Nate. “They’re actually mine. But I made them because of my dad’s—Here, I’ll show you.”

He takes her up to his bedroom, snapping on the lamp on the desk and finding himself struck a little sadly by the light filter of dust over the remaining things here. Eleanor walks in behind him, spotting the series lined up above his bed and going over to look. It shows the moon in different phases, over and through trees that are clearly the ones in the yard. He’d never thought to bring them with him when he moved out - not because he didn’t love them, but because they belonged here.

“When we moved to this house, I said I was sad that I wouldn’t get to fall asleep seeing the moon out the window,” Nate tells her as she examines the paintings. “The master bedroom is the only one that faces the right way. So Dad made me these. And I made the ones downstairs for him.”

“How lovely,” she says. He can’t quite see her face in only the dim lamp light. “And how lucky.” And he feels among skin and bone the rightness of her words.

No one comes up to Nate as the evening draws to a close and tells him that they’re glad he brought her or that he’s fortunate to be able to work with her. Maybe they can see, the way he can, how she just fits there.

On a Tuesday night in December, sitting with a beer he’s hardly been drinking, he calls home.

“Hello?” His dad picks up, voice so familiar that Nate closes his eyes hearing it. He suddenly feels as if he can smell the particular scent of his childhood home, the one that he can’t replicate anywhere and which is instantly recognizable when he experiences it again.

“Hi, Dad,” he says.

“Hey, kid.” There’s a moment of quiet and he can make out the sound of water in the background, can picture Dad washing the dinner dishes, phone held against his shoulder, the cord stretching across the kitchen to the sink. Finally, Dad asks, “How are things?”

And Nate is so grateful that he does not ask why he’s calling tonight when they’ve just had their regular phone call two days ago. Rose would get suspicious, Drea would jump to asking what was wrong, Emma (now that he finally has his TTY hooked up right) would try to wait him out, and with every word Mom said, no matter how innocuous, he would know that she was trying to pry it out of him. With Dad, he gets the opportunity to at least pretend for a while.

“How are things there?” he asks instead, allowing his father’s words to flow over him: they've gotten all their things packed to move to the place they found in Cambridge; they have to be up there in a couple of weeks. Mom has space in her schedule later this week so they’ll be meeting the travel agent then to start planning for their next trip abroad. One of the kids in his current caseload need a lot of support - no details; Dad’s discreet - but they've been seeing some good bonding progress between him and the replacement caseworker.

“We had Elaine over for dinner to say goodbye before the semester starts,” Dad says. “She just left.” Nate thinks of that carefully dressed older woman, a friend of his parents from before he was born. Her husband had died pretty young, a heart attack in his forties, and she’d been left without much of a way to support herself so Mom had helped her get a government job as a translator - she had apparently majored in French in college and kept up in French conversational groups. She’d come over to their place for dinner every so often through the years once they’d moved back to the DC area, always bringing an apple crumble and making quietly sharp jokes.

“She was telling us about a friend of hers who is trying video dating. It sounds like something of a nightmare, to be honest.” Dad has always been pretty technologically savvy, able to work new gadgets in ways that Nate’s seen his friends parents give up on (probably a result of knowing Uncle Howard for so long). Still, he’s always appreciated a more human connection.

“I’m not looking to try any time soon,” Nate says, running an idle thumb around the mouth of his beer. And then, because his parents raised him to be brave, he asks, “When did you know that you were in love with Mom?”

“Well.” There’s the clink of silverware being placed into the dish drainer, the sound of the water being shut off. “I think it’s something I learn and remember every day.”

“No, I mean—I guess I mean when did you know that you could be in love with her?”

His father is smiling, just a little. Nate can hear it. “Sometimes I think it was the first minute, all the way back at boot camp. She came over - perfect hair, uniform, all that easy confidence - and decked a guy for getting fresh with her. It didn’t improve his personality much - won me over, though. Not that anything happened for a good while after that, but moments like those are seeds.”

Nate thinks of the way just the words “I promise” or “I’ll take care of it” from Eleanor settles the most agitated residents. He thinks of her smiling during game night, speaking with endless compassion when families come to collect their relatives’ effects, arriving early and singing softly to herself in her office as she prepares for meetings. Her voice sounds the way it does from a paralyzed vocal cord that she’s had since she was a kid, but it never stops her from talking or making herself heard, even knowing that people will comment on it. When she reads, she runs a thumb over her mouth without even seeming to notice. She had come to brunch that first time with flowers, bright roses, and alstroemeria, and asters, and although based on her reaction to the invitation he had expected her to leave as quickly as possible, she had talked to nearly everyone. Conversed with, really, he corrects himself, listening carefully and asking questions. When his eyes had found her, hers never seemed to find him, too focused on the person she was speaking with. As people filtered out, he found her tidying up, collecting dirty dishes. When he told her he could do it, she asked, “Alright, so what else can I do to help?”

He remembers the way she seemed to belong so easily among his family. He thinks about how, as he fell asleep that night, he found himself thinking about her being there again next year and had to remind himself that there was no real reason she would be.

He’s had crushes before, the fizzy feeling of everything in you being drawn to one person, like they suddenly took up extra space in your vision. There was Jana Charles in junior high with her matching headbands for each outfit; Patty O’Neil whose name was always written neatly above his on the checkout cards in the school library; Gary Price, the good-looking third baseman, a senior when Nate had been a freshman; Donna Myerson who he’d once seen playing bass in her garage and thought about for months afterward before he asked her to prom; Ted the pharmacist at the drugstore near the GW campus, round glasses and brown hair that was just the right amount of too long, deep-voiced and patient and precise as he explained dosages and side effects. He’s gone on dates, had a couple of girlfriends, had sex before. But nothing has ever felt like this, as if each little moment is not something to look back on with old and retired fondness, a nostalgia at his younger and more naive self, but as part of a greater story.

“Seeds, huh?” he says.

“The thing about seeds,” says his father the gardener, “is that you should try planting them. See what happens.”

He finishes his practicum two weeks later, has officially earned his master’s two weeks after that. The last week of January, he comes back for one final game night and to deliver thank you notes to the staff.

“I think you’re going to be a great art therapist,” Eleanor says when it’s just the two of them collecting dropped game pieces and dirty cups from the flat ginger ale and cola they’d served. “Whether you end up working with seniors or not, I think you’ll do amazing things and I’m very glad I got a chance to meet you and see you work, at least for a little while.” She gives him a small, warm smile over her shoulder; her hair, which he’s heard her describe to a new, newly blind resident who’d asked as “plain-Jane brown,” is down tonight, falling in a straight, thick sheet down past her shoulders. “Lunchtime will be much quieter.”

He almost laughs a little - one of the things that he’s liked best about their lunches in her office is how easy it is to sit in mostly silence with her - but instead he finds himself saying, “We might still catch each other in the grocery store.”

“Your apartment’s on my running route, so if you’re ever up early enough I can wave as I go by,” she offers.

“Or—” He clears his throat. “Would it be okay if I took you for dinner some night? I’d like to—I’d like to see you on purpose.”

“Oh.” She sounds surprised, looks down at her own hands as they slide a deck of cards into a soft-edged box. “I didn’t think—That is, you’re such a nice person and I’m—I thought you would want someone who was a bit more outgoing. Someone friendlier.”

“I don’t think you have to be any more outgoing than you are,” he says honestly. “And I think you’re friendly - and, more importantly, a very good friend to those lucky enough to have you. So if being friends is what you want, I’ll be grateful for it. But if you might want to try something more…”

He does not realize that he was holding his breath until she after she has looked up and answered yes.

“Drea says hi.” As he hangs up the phone, Nate shifts a little and rests his head atop Eleanor’s where it rests on his shoulder.

She glances up with a smile, finger poised to turn the page of the hefty book she’s reading on the life of Marie Antoinette. “That’s nice of her. Tell her hello from me next time you talk.” She selects a salt and vinegar chip from the bag on the end table, asking, “How is she doing?” before she places it on her tongue. (She’s started liking them so much recently that last time he went shopping he picked up a couple of bags to keep at his place.)

“She didn’t actually say anything, but I think she might have met someone,” Nate says thoughtfully.

“What makes you say that?”

“I asked about the new condo and she kept starting to say things and then not finishing them. Maybe she has a cute neighbor?”

Eleanor eats another chip. “That would be nice. It’s always good to have a cute neighbor. I should know.” She gives him a quick poke in the side, right below his ribs, where he’s ticklish.

His shoulders shift with laughter for a second as he flinches away. Then he says, more slowly, “She also said she heard from Libby that we’ll be going to Brooklyn for Thanksgiving next month. Almost everyone is closer to there this year anyway. If you can make it, I think everyone would like to see you again. I know I’d like it if you came.”

By now Nate knows that it’s not the distance from St. Louis that keeps Eleanor from going back, it’s the distance from the people there. Her parents had been killed in a car accident when she was thirteen and she had gone to live with an older uncle and aunt after that. “I never felt that I needed to live up to something,” she had told him the first time they had talked about it. “As far as I know, they chose not to have children, and it was because they didn’t really like them. They wouldn’t have been happier with a different sort of kid, someone athletic or popular; they wouldn’t have been happy with anyone. So I knew that it wasn’t me, but that didn’t really make it any easier growing up there.”

Since she came to Virginia for college they’d essentially lost touch, each side relatively satisfied with brief phone calls once or twice a year. She spends holidays at work, with friends, or alone, and he knows that it makes sense to ask her if she wants to come with him, knows that she came last year just as a friend of his and it doesn’t have to mean more. But he also knows that it’s a particular step to ask her now that they’re in a relationship.

“I’d love to,” she says simply, and drags the afghan she’d given him over the two of them.

But when Thanksgiving comes, Eleanor seems off somehow. She doesn’t speak very much on the drive up to Brooklyn or as they see everyone over at Baby’s place on Wednesday night; the quiet isn’t unusual for her, but it’s without the comfort he’s found in their silences in the past, lacking the careful and noticeable attention she typically has in conversation.

“Are you okay?” he leans over to ask during Thanksgiving dinner. She nods but her attention is on the remains of her small portion of food. She'd been talking just enough that her mood wasn't obvious (and there's enough going on this year between everyone meeting Emma and Eric's new baby, Aunt Maria and Uncle Howard's anniversary, Libby starting medical school, and Tony gleefully recounting the story of his and Drea's arrest to distract everyone) but he can still see the strangeness in her.

He thinks that she would have told him if she had changed her mind and would rather not have come, or if something happened at work - as much as she prepares herself, sometimes the loss of a resident can push her into herself - but he wants to offer the opportunity if she needs it. After they've eaten, instead of joining everyone for the traditional games, he excuses the two of them to go on a walk to "show Eleanor the neighborhood." As they fall into step beside each other, heading toward the park a few blocks away from the house, Nate does not take her hand. He feels a little lopsided and odd as he puts his into his pockets; over the past few months, walking with fingers intertwined has become reflexive. But it's obvious that she needs space, so he does not touch her, doesn't say anything until they've reached the park.

He gestures to a bench and they sit. It's cold under them, even through jackets. He'd forgotten what New York was like in November.

"El," he asks seriously, breath leaving a shadow in the air. "Will you tell me what's wrong?"

She looks around at the dark playground equipment. For a moment he isn't sure she is going to answer. Then she says, "Your family, they really seem to love you a lot." She shifts her shoulders in tightly, bracing - from the cold? "Do you think there's anything you could do that would make them stop?"

His first instinct is to say of course there must be. They're good people but not saints, so there must be limits. His next instinct is that of course there aren't: he has known since the time of memory that he was loved solidly and without restraint. If he had dropped out of school or gotten addicted to something or brought home a man instead of Eleanor - none of that would have changed things.

He thinks about it. Finally he says, "If there was something major - if I became a human trafficker, if I raped someone, or killed someone who didn't deserve it - I don't know that they would love me the same way. But I think they still would somehow, and I don't think they would give up on me."

She seems a little taken aback at his answer, or perhaps that he actually took the question seriously enough to answer at all. "Only if you killed someone who didn't deserve it? Not killing in general?"

"They fought a war," he reminds her. "My parents, Uncle Bucky, Uncle Howard too, though I don't think he was actually in the field much." They don't talk about the fact that mom and dad have both likely killed people - and for his mom, he isn't entirely certain that it was forty years ago. But it's been in the background his whole life, as his mother and Uncle Bucky rehashed decades-old sharpshooting contests, when they made fun of his dad for some foolhardy battle plan ("It worked, didn't it?" he would ask them grumpily when they teased him). All of that was simply known.

Eleanor takes it in, seeming to adjust her calculus of his family. She shifts beside him. "My family isn't really like yours at all," she says in a low voice. "They aren't—They don't—" It's as if she's perched on a precipice. He has to truly hold himself back now from taking her hand - to help her step forward or move herself protectively back, he doesn't know. Finally she says, "I went to the doctor just before we left. I'm pregnant. And I think I want to keep the baby."

He catches in a breath, and it’s as if there’s an extra bit of air in his lungs that he’s just now finding, as if he’s never breathed quite as deeply before as he does now. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. We’ll be okay.”

They had discussed moving in together before: they’ve been spending most of their free time together for months and it doesn’t entirely make sense to keep separate apartments mere blocks away from each other. But it becomes a reality more quickly than they had initially expected. That’s only one of the things they need to start planning and preparing and pro-conning. Eleanor has already passed through the first trimester without truly realizing it, and feels as if she needs to catch up. Between comparing vitamins, laying out a shared budget including the additional expenses, talking to her supervisor about maternity leave, considering childcare afterward...telling his family becomes only another of the strange new things that they’re taking on these days.

Everyone is as excited as he expected them to be, though as they leave the restaurant where they’d been meeting with Nate’s parents, he can see Eleanor lose some of the tension in her posture.

“I’m not really used to all of this,” she admits later. He can’t see her expression - she’s facedown on the bed as he massages her lower back; she’s been having some pain there recently. “I know my parents loved me, but then I got...inherited, I suppose, by people who just did their duty, tolerated me.” This part of her was why she hadn’t wanted to get married simply because they were having a baby, regardless of what people might think. (“I’ve already spent too much of my life feeling that people were in my life only because it was the right thing to do,” she’d said. “I’m not worried about us, but I’ll know when it’s right for me.”)

They listen to the rain outside. Her voice, when she spoke again, was very soft, and not only because it was muffled in the bedclothes. “It’s different, thinking that there are people who care about me this much.”

“You deserve that,” he says with quiet vehemence, and presses his hands against her skin like love.

At the first doctor’s appointment, they’re meant to fill out all sorts of forms about each of their family medical history.

Nate was never academic the way Drea is, never a brilliant student in spite of not being so like Rose. He was solid B-pluses through school and never bothered by that. Watching Eleanor’s flowing pen, seeing the blanks he is forced to leave on his own page, is the first time he has had this sort of feeling of failure.

The doctor doesn’t seem overly troubled by it, simply nodding when he says, “I was adopted,” as he hands over his empty paperwork, and moving on. The things he could tell her about his family - that Rosie is allergic to penicillin, that he never met his mother’s father because he died of heart failure long before Nate was born - have no impact here.

He knows that their child will get to be a part of a tremendous extended family. But he sits uneasy with the thought that he will leave them in the dark about their biological background, that one day they will sit with a form like this and not know the answers either.

Emma’s cafe is local, and she had mentioned that she would be experimenting with pie, so he stops there first. She’s doing a million things at once: nursing baby Will, looking over the inventory, writing out her yearly update for Uncle Howard (a Deaf woman with a BA but no experience trying to enter the risky restaurant business, she had had a difficult time getting a traditional small business loan, and so had taken her prospectus and gone to Howard instead. He probably didn’t even remember that he’d loaned her the money, but Em deposited prompt monthly payments and insisted on writing an official year-end summary for him as an investor). As they talk, he ends up folding a pile of clean clothes that she had jammed into the baby bag, pairing little socks and turning endless onesies right side out.

“Did you ever think,” he asks, “about trying to find your birth family?”

“No,” she says immediately, and he’s surprised by the vehemence there, and that Will continues dozily eating even as she snaps her fingers shut over his fragile head. But her next words are slower. He can tell that she’s thought about it before. “I never wanted to. They chose - decided to give me away. Maybe I would have a better life. Maybe not. My life is better but they didn’t know that. They just did it because it would make their life easier.” She shrugs, running a finger lightly over Will’s soft, sparse hair like a worry stone. “They didn’t want me. I don’t want them. And if they ever found me I would show them my life and tell them that.”

Nate tucks a couple of socks together in a ball and nods. He doesn’t dig deeper.

When he asks Rosie if she would ever go looking, she surprises him. “I don’t know,” she tells him, voice over the phone like she’s winding the cord around her finger.

“Why?” he asks, because Rose has always seemed so sure of everything.

“Because I think it would make me angry,” she says simply. “I don’t remember anything from that part of my life. I barely remember anything from before Mom and Dad took me home. But the way that I was when they did, how long it took for me feel safe...Maybe all of that was from being separated from my family, from being a little kid in the system, but if it was I’d be mad that there wasn’t anyone to stop that from happening to me. And if it was from something that happened before, I don’t know if I could ever forgive them.”

He thinks that she is finished. He almost starts to speak. Then she adds, “Only, sometimes, I think about the possibility of having other siblings out there - a brother or sister who was a little kid too and maybe just barely remembers me, or someone out there who wasn’t born until after it all. How would I feel if that were me?” She takes in a sigh, lets it out in increments. It’s one of those tricks that Dad taught her, the kind she hasn’t used, as far as he knows, in a long time.

“Mom and Dad would give me whatever information they have if I asked, but I don’t know that I ever would. Maybe someday, you know?” And she changes the topic to ask about the new position he’s just taken at a school for at-risk youth.

It’s a long time before he finds himself able to ask Drea. They still talk every week, but each time they do, he lets her hang up without mentioning anything. Months go by as he settles in at work, learns that Eleanor likes her toast burned black and has a videotape of The Sound of Music which she watches when she’s sad, lies in bed with her chilly, clammy feet pressed against him while they debate baby names. He starts to see the shape of the new life he will have laid out before him. He finds himself afraid of disrupting it.

By the time he manages to ask, it is spring. Eleanor has, after a long while of vague thickening around the middle and slight but noticeable rounding of the face, suddenly begun to show quite dramatically.

“That baby probably just remembered who their dad is,” Drea teases when he describes it for her. “It needs room while it grows stringbean limbs like ours.”

He laughs, and before he’s really decided to say anything he asks, “Would you ever want to try to find what happened to our family? Our first family?”

His sister holds so close to her heart the memories she has of their birth parents. She’s told him that they called them Mama and Papa, that their mother had dark, dramatically plucked eyebrows and would tuck the covers up tight under their chins and sing lullabies in Italian to them every night, that Papa let them feed the birds outside the kitchen window with the crumbs from breakfast and brought home a cream horn for each of them on Fridays. He knows that she’s wondered what it would have been like if their parents hadn’t died. And he knows, the way she surely does, that they might not necessarily have been better for it. When he thinks of the two of them growing up with parents other than Mom and Dad, or considers what would have happened had there been some grandparents or neighbors who stepped in, it gives him a cold, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, knowing what would likely have happened to Drea, that he might not know the sister he does today if things hadn’t gone as they did.

The quiet after his question has such depth, but Nate has never been afraid of quiet like that. He waits. Finally Drea says, “Part of me has always wanted to. And part of me knows that it probably wouldn’t go how I’d want it to. They’d be expecting someone else and they’d be...disappointed at who I turned out to be.” She makes a little coughing sound. “You could try to find them. If you wanted.”

“No,” he says, and what surprises him most is how unsurprised he finds himself at the answer after all these months of considering it. “I don’t think I want to search for anyone who’d be disappointed in you.”

“I know you probably want the baby to know about that part of them,” she says, because she knows him well. “You want to give them some idea of where they come from.”

“They’ll come from me,” he says simply. “They’ll come from me and from El, and maybe they’ll have to learn that I can’t give them all the answers, but I can give them love, and the best family in the world. The best aunt in the world.”

“Best aunts in the world,” she says with a quiet sniffle, “or Rosie will kill you.” Which he knows means that she loves him too.

The baby is born at 4:47 in the morning on the first Tuesday in June.

El had been good all the previous day, listening to the doctor and staying home as the contractions grew closer and closer together. Nate had stayed home with her, not trying to distract her because there wasn’t really a distraction from the encompassing pain and the nerves, just as a presence. When they drove to the hospital around 2 A.M. it was so quiet and still and Eleanor had looked out the window, let out a slow and shaky breath as a contraction trailed off, and said, “I hope this world is good enough for this baby.”

“We’ll make it that way,” Nate told her, and took her hand.

The labor and delivery floor was busy when they arrived - apparently plenty of these babies were night owls too - and they needed to wait while a bed freed up. When they finally got Eleanor into a gown and settled, the doctor popped in (not the obstetrician they’d wanted, who was apparently on another delivery, but the on-call doctor), checked Eleanor, said, “Wow, won’t be long now, huh?” and patted her foot.

He’s right. It’s barely an hour before the doctor says, “One more push!” and Eleanor grips Nate’s fingers and pants, “Oh! Oh, it hurts,” and then there is a crying released into the room.

For all the flurry of activity, Nate’s mind goes very still, taking everything in without entirely being a part of it. The nurses swoop in for the baby, wrapping and cleaning a bit, calling out numbers back and forth, before they lay the whole bundle on Eleanor’s chest. She strokes a finger on the crying cheek, crumpled and the newest thing in the world, and says, “Hello there.”

The doctor is cutting the cord, still talking about delivering the placenta, and someone is asking for the exact time. After a few minutes, one of the nurses comes over and says that they need to take a look at the baby, “Just a quick weigh and to get him dressed, dear, then we might try feeding.”

“Wait.” His voice is hoarse and quiet, so Nate says again, “Wait. I’d like to hold him, please.” The nurse raises a slightly disapproving eyebrow, but she walks his side of the bed and passes the baby to him.

Soon, this small, visceral person in his arms will have a name: Lucas Rogers Carter. One day he will press his face against the window every day watching for the mail truck and cry on Sundays, he will walk down the aisle the day his parents finally choose to get married, he will beg for a dog, he will have a sister, he will be as big a baseball fan as his grandfather and his aunt Drea, he will shy away from heights and be fascinated by spiders, he will be the first person his cousin Will comes out to, he will excel at math and try over and over to write a novel, he will road trip across the United States, he will shout at his parents and learn to apologize for it and still through it all know that he is loved. He will have a life only dreamable in this moment.

But for now, Nate looks down at his son and falls in love.

More chapters here

[mybookishlife2]

🌀May Wrap Up🌀 | Pages: 1,609 | Avg Rating: 3.6/5 | Best Book: Not Always Blu Skyes | Worst Book: Undertow 🌀🌀 #QOTD: How was your reading month? AOTD: Mine was mediocre. I don’t really measure my month by how many books I read but by how I’ve liked my reads and if I’m in a reading slump. So mine honestly started great. I really like Throne of Glass, I will say I was hoping to love it as much as I loved Assassin’s Blade, but I didn’t. But, I really really liked it and I will be continuing the series. I’m excited to continue the series. But after ToG, it kinda went a little downhill. But I’m hoping it’s picking right back up! This monthly I was given the opportunity to receive a free ebook for an honest review by @gabriellemcmaster which again, thank you so much! I honestly enjoyed this book so much! P: Throne of Glass | Sarah J. Maas - 4/5 P: Undertow | Michael Buckley - 3/5 P: Eleanor & Park | Rainbow Rowell - 3.5/5 D: Not Always Blu Skyes | Gabrielle McMaster - 4.5/5 P: Crazy Rich Asians | Kevin Kwan - 4/5 A: Guardians of Ga’Hoole | Kathryn Lasky - 3/5 P: Physical | D: Digital | A: Audiobook Have you guys read these? 🌀🌀 Hashtags: #bookstagram #bookstagrammer #bookworm #yabooks #yabookstagram #books #bibliophile #bookaholic #YARomance #ThroneofGlass #yafantasy #Wrapup #YAromance #MayWrapUp #bookishlytaken #bookspines #bookcommunity #booklove #CrazyRichAsians #NotAlwaysBluSkyes #undertow #booksbooksbooks #bookshelf #eleanorandpark #booknerdigans https://www.instagram.com/p/CA3CfIsggzk/?igshid=s9lbz6947zz2

[theweepingvulcan91]

Coming out

Jim X Leonard

Star Trek

Prompt- Coming Out 

This was for @auduna-druitt‘s Oh Captain, My Captain event.Leonard takes Jim home for a vacation to have some news for Mother McCoy

Word Count- 1455

Hello Mrs. McCoy!”

Jim said with a high-pitched tone. He was excited to see her again. Though he had never met her in person he had his love speak nothing but good about her. Seeing her face light up only made his smile bigger.

“Oh Jim! Please call me Elenora. It’s great to see you again! When are you going to come and visit? When am I going to finally meet the illustrious James Tiberius Kirk?” “Excuse me? I’m right here you know?” Leonard’s groan could be heard a mile away. He was nervous for them to be so close. No one back home knew of his true relationship with Jim and he wasn’t sure how they would all react. With how chummy they were getting it was a wonder his mother didn’t just come out and say “bring your boyfriend home Lenny”  

“Leonard Horatio McCoy don’t you dare sass your mother.”  

As Leonard straightened up Jim stifled a laugh. There was something humorous to him that his mother seemed to be fonder of him than of her son. It took all he had not to hug Leonard.  

Do your best not to be too touchy when we talk to my mother.

Leonard’s voice filled Jim’s head as he shook his head.  

“When are you two going to come down to visit me? I mean I’ve never actually met Jim...it would be nice to finally meet someone that makes you happy.”

Leonard’s eyes widened as she spoke to them both. Did she know what Jim was to him? It had to be a coincidence. Shaking his head, he was met by Jim’s face close to the screen.

“I’d love to come and visit. But this big old lug won’t let me follow him home.”

“It’s because you are one of the most annoying humans Jim. Why would I subject my family to that?”

“It’s cause you seem just like Asheligh. Rambunctious and always trying to get this boy to loosen up. Come on Lenny take a break. You two are always busy. It would do ya both some good to come out and see me.”  

Leonard looked at his mother on the screen then back at Jim. It was quite the shame that he felt that he couldn’t share his love for Jim. Jim had looked at Leonard as if he was a begging puppy. He wanted nothing more than to get to see the world that his love had grown in.

“The Enterprise goes in for a major overhaul here in a week. I think we can...”

“Yes! We’ll come visit then!”

Jim burst out as he all but shook Leonard’s chair. He was the captain after all. Hugging Leonard he chuckled as his mother let out a soft chuckle. There was something about that chuckle that was both calming and nerve racking simultaneously. Leonard shook his head as he looked back at his mother.  

“We’ll set up everything over here in the next few days and let you know when we get our feet back on the ground Mama. Give everyone a hug for me.”  

“Will do Lenny. Be safe you two.”  

Elenora said with a hint of sternness in her tone. The last thing she needed was for them to somehow skip out of seeing her. Leonard pulled back a faint smile as he ended the transition.

“You...”

He glared back at Jim before walking past him and going to the bathroom. Jim took a deep breath as he waited for a moment. Jim knew that upset Leonard. He didn’t mean to he just very badly wanted to meet his family.  Going to sit on the bed he would wait to see what was going to happen.

“They have no idea Jim...about us...”

Leonard said softly as he walked out from the bathroom. His body seemed tense as he was trying to fight the need to cry. Jim got up and walked towards him wrapping him in a tight embrace.

“I think you give your mother less credit then she deserves. I don’t think she will care as long as you are happy dear.”

Jim said as he nuzzled his head against Leonard’s chest. They would sure see.  

-----

“Wake up dear. We’re here.”  

Jim shook Leonard’s arm as they had arrived to his home. Leonard jumped slightly at being awoke from his nap. He couldn’t believe that they were here. The week flew by as if it were a blink of an eye. They had decided to take transportation there instead of having his family pick them up. Jim took care of the fare before getting out to grab their things. Leonard dragged his feet getting out to help Jim. Elenora was already halfway down the driveway before they could gather their things.

“Lenny!”  

Elenora squealed with delight as she pulled her son into a tight embrace. She truly was excited to see them both. Looking over at Jim she let out a shocked whistle.  

“You never told me he was more handsome in person Lenny. Hello Jim.”  

She swatted the bags out of his hand and pulled him into a hug. Jim let out a soft grunt as he wrapped his arms around her. She hugged exactly how he imagined. Burring his face against the top of her head she smelt just like Leonard. There was a dusty sweet scent to her.

“Nice to know you found such a good hugger Lenny.”  

Elenora pulled away from Jim and gently pat his cheek. Reaching down she grabbed one of their bag being met by Jim’s and trying to pull the bag out of his hand.

“Love of my son or not boy you better not stop me from doing what I want to do.”

She glared at him pulling her hand bag and all away from him. Leonard shook his head. She couldn’t have just said that...could she? Shaking his head he grabbed the other bag and followed behind his mother. Their house was a wonderful traditional southern home. Jim thought as he followed them to their room.

“I hope ya’ll don’t mind. I put ya in Lenny’s old room.”

“Not at all Ma. Though I guess you’re sleeping on the floor Jimbo.”  

“Don’t you dare make him sleep on the floor. No reason to hide what ya do. It’s just me and you.”

Leonard looked at JIm with a sense of worry then at his mother. Did she really know? Taking a deep breath he looked back at his mother.

“Ma I’ve gotta get something off my chest...”

He reached back and took hold of Jim’s hand. Jim’s eyes widened as he did so.

“Ma me and Jim are lovers.”

Elenora stood there for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she closed the gap between the boys and herself. Wrapping hem both into a hug she couldn’t help but giggle.

“I know Lenny. I’ve known since I have seen Jim in your quarters for our monthly communications for the last year.  Why do you think this last time I was so adamant that you bring him with you? I wanted to meet the man that made my boy happy.”

Leonard did something that he hadn’t done in a long while; he began to cry. Soft tears rolled down his cheeks as he pulled his mother into a tight hug. Her hands ran down his back in comfort as Jim wrapped his arms around both of them.

“And know dearie that if anyone has anything bad to say about ya I’m gonna give them the wrath of Eleanor McCoy. And you know I’ll swing at anyone that hurts my boys. Though you better know that the same applies to you Jim if you ever hurt my boy.”  

The look in her eyes was of a truthful passion. She was not going to take shit from anyone. Jim nodded as the smile on his face widened. He saw exactly where his lover had gotten his spirit from.

“Yes ma’am. Though I swear I’m never gonna hurt your boy. I love him too much.”

Jim turned towards the now flustered Leonard. Trying to calm himself with deep breaths Leonard glared at the both of them.

“This was the worst idea ever getting you two together.... now I’m gonna regret the hell outta this...I need a drink.”

“Don’t you sass me boy. You and Jim go wash up and I’ll make lunch.”  

Elenora said nudging her son with a bright smile. Leonard nodded as he took hold of Jim’s hand and made his way towards the bathroom.

“See...she already knew...”

“Don’t even Jim...”

Leonard squeezed his arm as they went to wash up for dinner. He was right. He hated when Jim was right.  

[mysterioustransmissions]

My favorite comics of 2017

Keeping with my new tradition of posting this list super late, here, on the last day of 2018, is my best comics of 2017 list. I can offer excuses -- my wife and I remodeled our house and welcomed our first child into the world this year, and I’m also unfailingly lazy -- but 2017 was also a killer year for comics, making this a bit larger of an undertaking than usual. Both Koyama Press and co-publishers Retrofit Comics and Big Planet Comics had absolutely stacked lineups. You’ll see them listed as publisher for many entries below.

I always struggle with how to order this list. I got serious about organizing my comics collection in 2018, and am running into the same problem. There, I’m thinking of dividing it into two -- a single-author section organized by author name (which ends up being mostly minicomics and graphic novels), and a multiple-author section organized by title (which ends up being mostly traditional-sized comics). Here, I’m essentially doing that same thing, but mixing them together; some entries are by title, and some author name.

Comics I especially enjoyed are marked with an *.

Allison, Matthew; Cankor: Calamity of Challenge #2 and #3 (self-published).

Berserker 1, edited by edited by Tom Oldham and Jamie Sutcliffe (Breakdown Press). There was a lot of anticipation and very specific expectations placed on this book ahead of its release, but no one seemed to walk away from the finished product satisfied. But it’s got a killer cover, great production design, and strips by some of the best cartoonists going. I hope Breakdown does another one.

* Booth, Tara; How to be Alive (Retrofit Comics & Big Planet Comics). One of the funniest books I’ve ever read. Booth’s drawings are a riot to look at, that the gags are also great is pure gravy. About as big as crossover hits get in my house. (I.e., my wife also loved it.)

Cardini, William; Tales From the Hyperverse (Retrofit Comics and Big Planet Comics). Cardini’s sci-fi world is made bigger and more engaging by the rapid-fire pace of this short story collection. His wild experimentation with color is always an inspiration.

Corben, Richard; Shadows on the Grave #1 - #8 (Dark Horse Comics). Not my favorite of Corben’s late-period Dark Horse horror books, but there’s plenty to enjoy. I was stunned by the sheer efficiency of the storytelling -- there are entire stories told with a single image and a few word balloons. A lot of these books sport great covers, issue #1 here, seen at the link for this entry, is one of the best.

Darrow, Geoff; The Shaolin Cowboy: Who’ll Stop the Reign? #1 - #4 with Dave Stewart (Dark Horse Comics). I was so bowled over by the experience of buying Shemp Buffet monthly that I initially scoffed at Cowboy’s return to more traditional narrative, but it turned out to be no less wild and no loss at all.

Davis, Eleanor; Libby’s Dad (Retrofit Comics & Big Planet Comics) and You & a Bike & a Road (Koyama Press). You & a Bike & a Road does something that’s often attempted and rarely successful -- it beats the audience down so it can then lift them up higher. Its success is due in no small part from its origin as a real-life journal. The visceral and emotional pain Davis feels on her journey is sincerely felt, and the lack of cynicism the storytelling choices are made with allow the reader to feel it whole cloth. And listen; it certainly doesn’t hurt that Davis is an amazing narrative storyteller besides -- Libby’s Dad is no less affecting.

DeForge, Michael; mini kuš! #43 'Meat Locker' (kuš!). I sleep on DeForge. I take him for granted. I feel like I’m not the only one? I see some excitement when his books come out, but no discussion. Blame it on the high volume and opaque nature of his work, the dearth of comics reviewers, and me, obviously. Also obviously, whenever something of his does find its way to my hands, I’m never sorry.

Estrada, Inés; Alienation #3 - #6 (self-published). The bundled version of this series, seen at the link for this entry, has the coolest book packaging I’ve ever seen in my life.

Expansion by Matt Sheean and Malachi Ward (AdHouse Books). I didn’t like this nearly as much as this same team’s previous Ancestor (due no doubt to its earlier and improvised creation), but damn, what a cover.

* Forsman, Chuck; Slasher #1 - #4 (Floating World Comics). I’d say the majority of my interest in Forsman’s work is in seeing how he presents his it and steers his career -- he’s among the best there is at that. Slasher is his first work I strongly connected with. It digs deep and gets wilder and wilder.

Ferrick, Margot; Yours (2dcloud). I’m a simpleton, so I was surprised at how deeply I was able to be moved by something this abstract. As always, grabbing 2dcloud’s whole line on Kickstarter expands my horizons and makes me a better reader.

Foster-Dimino, Sophia; Sex Fantasy (Koyama Press). I’ve actually only read the minis of this. This collection has the one I’m missing, plus some new material, but I love Sex Fantasy. It’s like a perpetual motion machine for thought -- you can just think about it forever.

Fricas, Katie; Art Fan (self-published). One of those things you dream of happening at a show -- picked this up at MICE not knowing anything about it, and was delighted by the artwork and knocked out by the “reviews of trippy art events”; particularly the first, about Duke Riley’s Fly by Night.

* Friebert, Noel; WEIRD6 (self-published), SPINE: I’ll Still Watch (Bred Press), Old Ground (Koyama Press). Sometimes when I have a fever, I can’t break loose of a single, circular thought -- I have the same thought over and over, only to realize once the fever’s broken that it was barely coherent. Friebert’s newer, decompressed work is like that. You turn page after page, and nothing happens. It’s the same characters still doing and saying the same things, again and again. You turn the pages faster and faster, almost in a panic, hoping to break the cycle and resolve the unease before you. But it’s no use.

* gg; I’m Not Here (Koyama Press), Valley (kuš!). I’m Not Here is one of a few books I recommended to people who were enjoying season 3 of Twin Peaks at the time. It doesn’t convey information so much as emotion, and rewards as much thought as you want to put into it.

* Hankiewicz, John; Education (Fantagraphics Books). I loved this so much I only read a few pages a night to make it last. Michael DeForge once called Noel Freibert an “astronaut” -- that applies to Hankiewicz also. No one’s ever done anything like this before, and if we didn’t have Hankiewicz I don’t think anyone ever would. Bringing poetry and modern dance (!!) into the language of comics, this was another book I recommended to watchers of season 3 of Twin Peaks -- you don’t understand the story by connecting facts, you understand it by connecting emotions.

* Hanselmann, Simon; Portrait, XMP-165 (self-published). XMP-165 was the first big payoff of the longform nature of Megg and Mogg, and it destroyed me. Also released this year was Doujinshi, Cold Cube Press’ gorgeous re-release of a Japanese Megg and Mogg fan comic.

Harkam, Sammy; Crickets #6 (The Commonwealth Comics Company). People talk about how good this book is, and I agree, but I’m not sure I could tell you why.

Haven, Eric; Vague Tales (Fantagraphics Books).

Hernandez, Gilbert and Jaime ; Love & Rockets Vol. IV #2, #3 (Fantagraphics). I made the terrible error after Love Bunglers to trade wait Locas, and for whatever reason they haven’t released one since. So I was way behind when this started coming out, but I bought and read it anyway. I initially found the story to be light, but I eventually realized I had a free ComiXology trial and caught up. It’s as great as ever.

Ito, Junji; Dissolving Classroom (Vertical, Inc.), Shiver: Junji Ito Selected Stories, and Tomie: Complete Deluxe Edition (Viz Media). Tomie may have come out in 2016 actually? I describe it to people as being about a beautiful woman who stands around until some total lech of a man inevitably murders her, then she comes back and annihilates him in the most unpleasant manner possible. Repeat ad infinitum. I don’t think the text 100% supports my reading, but that’s what it means to me.

Landry, Tyler; Shit and Piss (Retrofit Comics). The ephemeral, disjointed nature the single issue format served this story better, but it’s still extremely rad.

Loup, Celine; The Man Who Came Down the Attic Stairs (self-published).

Marcus, Ben; Crisis Zone 3rd Edition (Bred Press).

Mignolaverse and John Arcudi; Dead Inside #3 by Arcudi, Toni Fejzula, and Andre May, Lobster Johnson: The Pirate’s Ghost #1 - #3 by Arcudi and Tonci Zonjic, Hellboy: Into the Silent Sea by Gary Gianni, Mike Mignola, and Dave Stewart (Dark Horse Comics). Ignoring a few years in college when I was a lapsed comics reader, I’ve bought every Mignolaverse comic since I was about 13. That loyalty has slowly eroded over the last half decade about. I’m not alone in thinking the Arcudi-Davis run is one of the greatest of all time, and that the books started to go downhill after Guy Davis left. Beyond the departure of Davis, there are a few reasons for that, in my view.

First was the decision soon after to expand the line’s offerings. Doubling the line’s output and bringing in (inevitably) inferior creative teams was a no-win proposition for readers. Who wants more of something not as good?

Second, I think that Arcudi, a great writer, has shifted his focus from tightly-plotted five issue arcs to series-spanning character arcs. While I’m guessing this reads great in big chunks, it doesn’t spread out month to month, some months out of the year. I’m looking forward to a big re-read of everything after B.P.R.D. wraps in a few months, to see if this theory holds. Lobster Johnson: The Pirate’s Ghost came close to standing on its own, but was still rife with moments that I can only assume were big character payoffs because I didn’t remember enough to know. (Especially cool covers by Zonjic on these issues.) However, the non-Mignolaverse title Dead Inside offered the type of visceral, plot-based payoff his B.P.R.D. run with Davis hooked me with. I hadn’t been this thrilled by an Arcudi book since Killing Ground.

But third, and worst of all, has been the addition of writer Chris Roberson, whose books read like updates to the Mignolaverse Wiki. (The Visitor: How and Why He Stayed was okay, but pretty much solely due to Paul Grist’s fun art and layouts.)

I’m staying aboard the main B.P.R.D. book as it races to the finish line, and will continue to buy anything Arcudi writes, which seems to be mostly these Lobster Johnson comics. (Although even that’s looking increasingly, and sadly, unlikely to continue: https://twitter.com/ArcudiJohn/status/1075086925436874753) And I’ll certainly buy any more of these very sporadically-released Hellboy OGNs, like Into the Silent Sea, they decide to release -- the only real non-Mignola drawn Hellboy books anymore.

* Milburn, Lane; CORRIDORS (self-published). Sits comfortably next to Inflated Head Zone by Zach Hazard Vaupen, one of my favorite comics. They both forsake straightforward narrative in favor of theme-driven emotional impressionism, and do it with horror. This is catnip to me, and something I aspire to (although I’m far too boring to achieve it).

* Mirror Mirror II, edited by Sean T. Collins and Julia Gfrörer (2dcloud).

Now: The New Comics Anthology #1, edited by Eric Reynolds (Fantagraphics Books).

* Providence #12 by Jacen Burrows, Juan Rodriguez, and Alan Moore (Avatar Press). It came out months after, but it’s a safe bet Moore wrote this before Trump got elected, right? A more accurate depiction of the shell-shock of being thrust into a post-facts world I haven’t seen.

Roberts, Keiler; Sunburning (Koyama Press). Another big crossover hit in my house.

* Shiga, Jason; Demon Volumes 2, 3, and 4 (First Second). Demon became a book I wouldn’t stop showing to anyone who would listen. Like Gina Wynbrandt’s Someone Please Have Sex With Me, its hook transcends the normal comics reading audience -- you can show it to anyone and they get it right away. Specifically I would show people this amazing video https://youtu.be/NRxCTeM5pyU, which would clue them into what Shiga does enough to get them to read Demon. Demon has a story, but it’s more about rules -- establishing them and playfully subverting them with a level of inventiveness that regularly leaves you in awe.

* Terrell, Jake; Extended Play (2dcloud). This delightful book took me completely by surprise, an experience made possible by 2dcloud’s subscription model.

Tomasso, Rich; She Wolf: Black Baptism #1 - #4, Spy Seal: The Corten-Steel Phoenix #1 - #4 (Image Comics). The end of this second series of She Wolf approached the same hostile disregard for what came before as the end of Tomasso’s previous series, Dark Corridor. But where Dark Corridor acted on that impulse by simply burning it all down, She Wolf has enough respect at least to replace what came before by pivoting into a completely different comic. The freedom this affords the plot to dart in unpredictable directions is exhilarating. And it’s fun and beautifully laid out and designed, as always with Tomasso.

Tran, Thu; Dust Pam (Peow). Gorgeous!

Vaupen, Zach Hazard; Combed Clap of Thunder (Retrofit Comics and Big Planet Comics).

* Willumsen, Connor; Anti-Gone (Koyama Press). The part where the protagonists drive their boat past a window with a dog in it rewired my comics-making brain forever. This was another comic I only read a few pages of a night to make it last longer, and also recommended to friends of mine who were enjoying season three of Twin Peaks -- the plot is obfuscated in a similar way.

Yanow, Sophie; What is a Glacier? (Retrofit Comics and Big Planet Comics).

Yokoyama, Yuichi; Iceland (Retrofit Comics). Another comic I recommended to Twin Peaks season three fans. Similar to the residents of the Red Room, the characters seem truly of another world, their motivations and actions incomprehensible to us.

[sunnyisreading]

WHAT I ACTUALLY READ IN SEPTEMBER | SEPTEMBER WRAP UP September was a busy month - I went back to school, started all my classes, stressed the heck out of the upcoming tests ... It wasn't a very productive month, either, well, at least not in the means of reading. I did skip out on a few of my planned reads and opted out for some others. Overall, I read 7 books in September, which is quite a bit less than I had planned, and I sure hope October goes better.

You can find my September TBR pile here.

Sleeping Giants by Sylvain Neuvel is a science fiction novel that I read on the 2nd of September. This book was interesting, formatted in a totally new way for me and had an amazing plot. I am currently in the middle of reading the second part, too, and I love it just as much. I gave it 4 out of 5 stars. You can find my review for Sleeping Giants here.

To All the Boys I've Loved Before by Jenny Han is a young adult, contemporary novel about Lara Jean, who writes love letters to all her crushes, and some day they get sent out. I read it on the 6th of September. It had some problems and I didn't like the writing style as much, but it was adorable and a quick read, so I gave it 4 out of 5 stars as well. You can find my review for To All the Boys I've Loved Before here.

Salome by Oscar Wilde is a play I had to read for my slovene class in September. I read it on the 9th of September. It was short and a quick read, but I generally dislike classics (especially if I have to read them because of school), and this was all just the same. I gave it a 3 out of 5 stars, as it wasn't the worst, and opted out of writing a review for it since I don't really enjoy writing down my reading experiences for a book if I don't really want to read it myself.

The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang is a fantasy slash historical fiction novel which quickly became one of my new all time favorites. I finished it on the 13th of September. Although it was long, I really enjoyed the writing style, the plot and the characters. Of course, I gave it a 5 out of 5 stars and would recommend it to anyone with an interest in Chinese history and culture. You can find my review for The Poppy War here.

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman is a contemporary novel that I read on the 22nd of September as the book we chose for our monthly book club. It isn't really one of my new favorites, since I had a few problems with it, but it has a really accurate representation of mental illnesses and I enjoyed it nevertheless. Overall, I gave it a 4 out of 5 stars. You can find my review for Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine here.

Hlapci by Ivan Cankar is a really well known Slovenian novel that we had to read in class because it is important for both our history and culture. I read it on the 24th of September (one day before I had to turn it in, oops) and I gave it a 3 out of 5 stars. As for Salome, I decided not to write a review on it.

Nevernight by Jay Kristoff is a fantasy novel that I finished on the 25th of September. It was another novel that I really, really enjoyed this month, and although the beginning is a bit confusing, it is really worth it and I would recommend it to everyone. Overall, I gave it a 4 out of 5 stars. I am looking forward to reading the second part in October! You can find my review for Nevernight here.

[adayinbookland]

Jan 29th, 2019 || reading wrap up: books 1-6. I’ve decided to stop doing monthly wrap-ups because sometimes I do read quite a lot of books and I’m left with no space to write about them, so I’m gonna do reading wrap-ups with 5 or 6 books from now on, not considering the months. . 🌻 El castillo en el aire & La casa de los mil pasillos by Dianne Wynne Jones (not pictured). The final books in the How’s moving castle trilogy. Still very childish but somewhat entertaining (5/10 & 6/10 respectively) 🌻 There There by Tommy Orange. For now, the best book I’ve read this year. I did a full review if you’re interested (7.5/10). 🌻 The Girl in the Tower by Katherine Arden (not pictured). I have mixed feelings about this. I enjoyed some aspects of the story but I found Vasya quite frustrating and some of the problems were solved way too easily (6.5/10). 🌻 Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie. Biggest disappointment ever. I just couldn’t connect with the story or the characters and I high hopes for it *sighs* (3/10). 🌻 Eleanor by Jason Gurley. A heart-breaking story about grief, loss, motherhood and mental illness among other things. This is magical realism and I have to say the fantastical elements didn’t really made it for me but the story per se was good (7/10). • • • #readingwrapup #adayinbooklandreviews #eleanor #ancillaryjustice #therethere #tommyorange #nativeamericanliterature #bookworm_insta #bookishmug #thegirlinthetower #howlsmovingcastle #diannewynnejones #yalit #adultfiction #literaryfiction #unitedbookstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/BtOlZn8ngWt/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=ei4yhnbv9bjv