#everyone's already posted so many great pictures for his birthday so here's my offering

[rottapoika]

random chris moments i have saved on my phone from various issues of literally

[athenasbloodyspear]

The Viper: Chapter One

What happens when an agent of the Red Room falls into  the hands of Hydra? What happens when Hydra puts out a hit on their  favorite assassin? Who is the mysterious woman with a twisted history  and an even more twisted mind?

The team wants to know. They want to know what you know. Nat and Bucky want to know if there’s any light left in you.

They want to know you.

Bucky x Female Reader

The Viper Master List | My Writing Master List

The sounds of car horns are loud around you. The blaring, beeping and  bustle of pedestrians creating layers and layers of sound. You’re  trained well enough to sift through the sounds, listening to pieces of  conversation and various sounds of your environment to orient yourself.

You can feel the smallest shift of every person who’s moving in the  space around you. Your senses are so focused you can practically hear  the blood rushing through the people closest to you. Your prey is about a  block up, completely oblivious to where you followed.

The streets around you were loud and the sounds were strong, but nothing could keep your focus off your mission.

Underneath your hood and the rim of your baseball hat, your face was  hidden in shadow. If anyone would have seen or marked it, they would  have seen the wicked gleam of a grin.

--

“What’s got you all in a tizzy, Tony?” Nat asks from Bucky’s right.  The whole team was gathered around a conference table in Avengers tower  looking kinda bored. Tony had called everyone here this morning, much to  everyone’s chagrin because he had promised a week off and then  apparently changed his mind a mere three days later.

Bucky sighed and rolled his shoulders, leaning back in the office  chair he currently sat in, lifting the two front feet off the floor. All  he really wanted was to go back downstairs and into the city with Nat  and finish looking for a birthday gift for Steve. That’s what they were  doing this morning before they were quickly called back to the tower.  He’d procrastinated too long and really had zero idea of what to get the  man.

“I’m confused about something and I don’t like being confused.” Tony retorted.

“Oooo” Sam piped up from across the table. “The great Tony Stark  admits to not knowing something. I’m surprised there isn’t steam coming  out of those ears.”

Bucky smirks at his friend. God he loved Sam and his remarks. He  would say something similar, but his relationship with Tony still wasn’t  perfect and he didn’t want to push his luck at the moment.

“What is so confusing, Iron Man? Don’t know what to get Pepper for  your anniversary? Or did you say something stupid again and your giant  brain can’t figure out exactly which asshole statement pushed her over  the edge this time?” Nat chimed in with a mocking smirk.

Tony pointed a single finger at Nat. “I have had our anniversary  present for two months already and I’m actually getting better at  figuring out which one of my snarky comments goes too far, just so you  know.” He sighs and presses a few buttons on the large screen under the  glass conference table, whipping up a bundle of information to appear on  the screen behind him. “What I’m confused about is why Hydra put out a  public hit on one of their top agents.”

At that, Bucky’s chair drops back to all four legs abruptly. The  confusing piece of information startled him into finally giving his full  attention to the conversation. His heart rate picked up a bit.

“They did  what ?” Steve asks from the end of the conference table opposite Tony, voicing the question on all their minds.

“This morning Hydra posted a bounty on a known dark web forum. It’s  not unheard of for them to post some of their lower enemies on this  anonymously for unaffiliated assassins and bounty hunters to take down.  What’s different this time is they made it very clear that  Hydra  was posting.” He whipped up what looked eerily similar to a reddit post up on the screen. “And what makes even  less sense is I know for a fact that the person they called a hit on has been their little secret weapon for over ten years.”

Bucky scanned the post up on the screen. Sure enough, it said that  Hydra had a hit out on a well known assassin and was offering 50 million  along with diplomatic immunity in a country of their choosing for the  head of the operative.

“Who’s the target?” Nat murmured.

“So, this is the fun part. Especially for you two.” Tony continued, pointing at Nat and Bucky.

“What?” Bucky grumbled. Fun for him? What the hell? What could  possibly be in Tony’s twisted brain to think anything to do with Hydra  would be  fun for him?

“Here’s the mark.” Tony pulled up a blurry photo of a figure wrapped  in muted colors clearly captured on some sort of security camera  somewhere on a bustling street. If Bucky was tracking the cobblestones  and architecture of the buildings correctly he’d guess it was taken  somewhere in Cairo.

“Is that the best fucking picture you can get us, Stark? You can  barely see their face.” Sam quipped, leaning forward in his seat to  squint at the screen.

“This is the clearest photo of her face, yes.”

“Her?” Nat snapped, popping her eyes to Tony.

“Yes. Her.  The Viper .” He smirked back at Nat. Bucky heard a quick intake of breath from his right. Nat.

“No…” She whispered, and trailed off.

“Oh yes, Natasha. Oh yes.” Tony flicked his fingers across the table  again and all the known stats on the Viper pulled up on the screen.  “This is where the fun begins for us. This is what we know about the  Viper. She was “found” at a young age somewhere in middle America. It’s a  little unclear where, but from where I tracked it must have been  somewhere in the Midwest.”

“They stole a kid from Wisconsin? Why would Hydra bother when they  had their fingers in so many other countries?” This was from Steve.

“It wasn’t Hydra…” Nat murmured.

“ What? ” Bucky piped up again. He felt like his brain was  spinning. A top Hydra assassin? Did he know her? He would have to spiral  into his memory to find out if he ever met this Viper…

“It was the Red Room.” Nat whispered then. Her eyes staring directly at the table.

“Yes indeed!” Tony quipped. “Remind me Nat, were you still there when  they dragged in the little girl kicking and screaming or not?”

“Tony!” Steve seethed from his end of the table.

“I wasn’t living there anymore, no. I had just graduated. She was a  couple years younger than me. They said she caused quite a nuisance  during the assassination of a target. Instead of killing her they decided  to bring her back. I saw her maybe twice. They had always referred to  her as the snake. She was less refined than the other girls, she started  her training a little too old, but she was… desperate to make up the  difference.” Nat shuddered a bit then and Bucky felt compelled to reach  out and place a hand on her shoulder. “She reminded me of… me.”

There was a small moment of pause before Tony started again. “So our  little snake graduated from The Red Room and spent a few years as an  agent for them before falling in with our buddies at Hydra.” Tony looked  at Bucky then, “Where she was trained and conditioned to fill a missing  position in their ranks after they unfortunately lost control of a very  important  asset. ”

“You’re a prick Tony.” Steve muttered, his eyes falling on Bucky.  Bucky waved him off. He was fine, really. He’d started making peace with  his history when he was on Wakanda and though he still had a long way  to go, he wasn’t going to fall to pieces at the mere mention of the  Winter Soldier.

“You’re telling me that they…” He trailed off, his mind spinning in  circles. This poor woman he didn’t even know subjected to what he went  through, simply because he had left. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but he  still felt responsible that someone else had to fill a hole he had  created.

“Yes they trained this little spitfire to be their top assassin and  she has been in their top ranks since about 2010, only stepping into the  role of top assassin after the events in 2016 finally severed you  completely from the organization. She’s been racking up kills ever  since. Much like you my dear metal armed friend, she’s nearly impossible  to catch on camera, let alone see with your own eyes.”

From the corner of the room, where he sat in a chair separate from  the table, Bruce finally spoke. “I always thought The Viper was a  myth.”

“Yeah and you thought the Winter Soldier was a myth. Hell I always  thought Thor and Loki were just some folklore.” Sam remarked. “I believe  almost everything nowadays.”

“Wait so, this woman was a trained Red Room assassin, then a top  Hydra operative and now they’re asking the internet to kill her? Why  didn’t they just take care of her themselves? Surely they had her locked  up or brainwashed somehow.” Bruce said.

“You guys are seriously just assholes sometimes.” Steve murmurs.

“I’m fine, Steve.” Bucky says. “It’s a valid question. Even when they  wanted me eliminated, they only worked with people inside.”

“Exactly.” Tony said. “My theory is, they want us to know that they  want her dead. In fact, my more specific theory is that this is bait in  order to get us to hunt and eliminate her. I want to know why.”

“She must have slipped away from them.” Nat said then. “Even if no  average internet bounty hunter could ever touch her, surely they’d at  least keep her a little busy. Busy enough that we might be able to get a  jump on her. She must know something.”

“Exactly. What does she know? And why don’t they want her to utilize whatever information she knows?”

“So we’re going to find her then.” Steve said. “What if this is a  trap? Specifically set up to intrigue us into bringing their very own  top operative into our facilities.”

“It could be.” Nat responded. “But it seems a little weird to send a  bunch of people they don’t control after her unless they genuinely  didn’t care about what happened to her. It seems unlikely she’s still an  asset to them if they’re willing to risk her actually being caught off  guard, no matter how unlikely that is.”  

“See, this is what I meant by being confused.” Tony quips then,  heading for the door. “I’ve sent everything I know about the woman to  each of you. Study it. See what conclusions you come to on your own.  We’ll reconvene here tonight to discuss an action plan.”

--

You sat in a corner booth at a tiny cafe, facing the door. There was a  swinging door into the kitchen to your left, which led to three back  exits. Directly in front of you was the only door facing a main street.  The whole front of the coffee shop was glass, giving you a clear view of  the two targets you’d been tracking all morning, who had stopped to  grab breakfast at a restaurant across the street.

You were twirling a long since lukewarm cup of coffee in your hands,  your eyes flicking back and forth between your marks and the swinging  kitchen door at your shoulder.

You watched as your marks both stretched and stood up. The woman hailed a cab. They seemed disgruntled.

 Interesting.  

While the woman tried to snag the attention of a cabbie, you threw a  few crumpled bills on the counter of your table and slipped through the  swinging kitchen door. There were a few shouts of alarm as a stranger  wandered into the bustling diner kitchen, but you quickly weaved through  the crowded kitchen and out a back door. You jumped on the sleek black  Kawasaki bike you’d stashed behind a dumpster in an alley.

You pushed the bike out and around the corner before turning it on,  waiting to confirm that they had both piled into a cab. You revved the  engine and punched the accelerator, weaving quickly   between the piled  up traffic, causing lots of horn honking and a few near rear-end  accidents.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you tore after that cab.

The grin still plastered on your face.

--

Bucky’s head was reeling as he read through the intel, albeit a small amount, that Tony had managed to dig up.

There were a total of 3 videos captured on a security camera of the Viper on a job. He watched them all multiple times.

The Viper was ruthless and unnervingly calm. It reminded him of  himself, what he saw in the footage of the Winter Soldier. It made the  bile in his stomach churn. He knew that feeling of uncontrollable calm  very well and it made him break out in a cold sweat.

The first video showed her walking calmly up to a high security  warehouse, putting bullets between the brows of every operative in  sight, barely even looking in their direction before pulling the  trigger. She walked directly with purpose toward the door that was  clearly her mission. Once every operative in view of the camera had  fallen she reached for the door handle. Before she slipped inside, she  lifted her pistol without looking and fired one round into the camera,  cutting the feed. With the hood on her jacket, there was no clear  footage of her face. Bucky wondered how they were even sure it was her.  Her murderous calm must have been enough evidence.

The second was a terribly grainy video taken in some basement  somewhere. There was someone strapped to a chair and he watched as the  Vipers fists slammed into the man repeatedly. A choppy, distorted, and  heavily accented voice spoke about 40 seconds in. “Good, Viper. You may  play now. Make sure there’s something left of him to interview  tomorrow.” Bucky flinched as he saw the woman stride toward a table,  likely filled with instruments of torture. The man strapped to the chair  began to scream, pleading in Russian that he’d say anything they wanted  him to. He heard a low woman’s voice come through the video, murmuring  “Too late.”

The third was a more recent video according to the time stamp. It was  less than six months ago off a security cam in Maracaibo. It was about a  9 second video, just watching the woman cross a bustling street in  Venezuela. Bucky remembered that some hot shot Hydra agent had been  found dead in Venezuela this year. Could it have been the Viper taking  down one of their own? Is that why they were mad?

There were about 5 other attachments of images. The only photographs  that Friday could find of this enigma apparently. 4 were blurry security  camera footage from various places. The one Tony had shown this morning  was truly the only one that even sort of showed the woman’s face. Well,  except the 5th.

The 5th made Bucky even more sick than the footage of brutal  violence. It was a Polaroid image of what appeared to be a 16 or 17 year  old girl in ballet clothes, standing in the middle of what he assumed  was a dance studio. It would have been normal, a young woman after a  dance class, if it wasn’t for the red blood splattered up her pink  tights, dripping off her knuckles and smeared on her jaw. The subject  wasn’t looking at the camera, but rather seemed to be standing at  attention with her focus to the right of the photographer. Written in  sloppy Russian at the bottom corner of the Polaroid was “Option 4.”

What does that mean?  Bucky thought to himself.  Option for what?  

It made him sick staring at that photo. If the blood wasn’t there, it  would just look like a young woman preparing for a ballet class, or  perhaps being photographed so a costume designer could see her figure  while they created dazzling outfits for a production. It was so wrong  for someone so young, whose face was filled with innocence, to be  covered in blood. He felt so protective over her, this young woman he  didn’t even know. This young woman who he knew grew up to be a murderer  with a kill list almost as long as his.

He knew, looking at that photo, that this woman had never wanted  this. He didn’t know how he got such a gut reaction to the image, but he  saw himself in it. A young person who was given the worst hand of cards  to ever be dealt, and was simply trying to stay alive. He stared at her  thin frame, the hollow look in her eyes and nearly wept.

He needed to find her. He needed it more than he’d needed anything in  a long time. He needed to find out how far she had fallen from this  image, and if he could pull her back.

He needed to do it, because he’d always be grateful that someone did it for him.

--

Your marks had gone into the tall skyscraper a few hours ago. You  were too antsy to sit around and wait to see if they’d venture back out  into the city.

You prowled the sidewalk like a caged animal. Tracing patterns through the busiest blocks. Keeping track of nearby cameras.

Everything smelled like garbage and piss. You hated it. You loved it. It was such an easy city to get lost in.

An even easier city to be found in.

--

When Bucky finally dragged himself back to the conference room that  evening, he felt like a wreck. He had worked himself up considerably  throughout the afternoon. He was antsy and apprehensive.

He really didn’t know what was wrong with him. It was just some random assassin, why was he so worked up?

Steve noticed his touchy mood as soon as he walked in and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m fine.” Bucky grumbled. “Just want to figure this out. It’s bothering me for some reason.”

“Maybe because it’s a little too personal, Buck.” Steve said quietly.

“Yeah maybe.” Bucky coughed out. His chest felt tight with someone who knew him so well staring at him like this.

Before Steve could rib Bucky more, Tony sauntered into the room with  Nat behind him. “So what’s everyone’s thoughts on our little snake in  the grass?”

“I think the woman is damn fucking scary.” Sam piped up from the same  chair he’d been in this morning. “And really good at her job. Reminds  me of robocop over there a little too much if you know what I mean.”

“That’s what I find so interesting.” Steve says. “Because obviously  we know that Bucky wanted out, and was not the person that the camera  showed. I wanna know what’s really going on in her brain.”

“Banner, question for you, if we managed to set a little trap for our  snake and actually got her in here, would you be able to scan her brain  and see how much of it was under her actual control?” Tony said as he  dropped into a chair at the head of the table.

Banner responded from where he sat in his normal chair in the corner.  “I could compare a brain scan to early scans of Barnes’s brain. See how  similar they look. Then compare to his post-Wakanda scans. In a sense,  yes. But the brain is complicated as you know.”

“Can’t we just talk to her?” Bucky pipes up. “I mean, if it makes you  feel more comfortable to hook her up to a lie detector whatever, but I  just… I know what they do to people there and let me tell you there’s no  way she’s in control.”

“What makes you so sure?” Tony questions. “I mean, I was wrong about  you. I’ll admit that. I’m a bigger man now. But not everyone is Cap's  former BFF brought back from the dead with a heart of gold trapped in a  twisted hydra web. She could have gone willingly. In fact, I have a hard  time believing that a Red Room agent was accidentally captured by  Hydra. What if she went to them willingly?”  

“But then why did she leave?” Natasha counters. “Who’s to say that  she ended up in all this willingly. I don’t know the whole story of how  the Red Room got her, but it’s rare that people join without coercion.  There’s more to this story, I can feel it.”

“Me too.” Bucky whispered. There had to be so much more to that 17 year old girl than a brutal murderer.

“Nat, can you explain this image to me?” Tony says, pulling up the  very polaroid that was going to haunt Bucky for weeks. “This looks like a  pretty willing agent to me.”

Bucky cringed at Tony’s short sighted assessment. Sure, the subject looked relaxed but that didn’t mean willing. Nat sneered.

“Well Tony, when every week your instructors challenge two students  to spar and the loser is killed however the classmate prefers, you too  would willingly fight back, to the death if necessary.”

Steve flinched, and looked at Nat with eyes full of grief. “They made you kill each other?”

“Kept us from attaching to each other.” Nat said simply.

Steve just shook his head, placing his face in his palms. This was  one of the reasons Bucky and Nat had gotten along pretty quickly. They’d  come to terms with their trauma, and the others sometimes had a hard  time brushing past the torture that the two of them had simply moved on  from.

“Touche.” Tony shrugged. “So why does this image say option 4?”

“That I don’t know.” Nat sighs. “No photos were ever allowed to be  taken of us, but the fact that this was clearly taken by an instructor  confuses me.”

“So we have no answers.” Sam quips. “Do I need to go stand on the  street with a sign that says “Viper take a crack at me” so we can maybe  get a glimpse of her? I’m only doing it if I can wear the suit Tony.”

“That’s the thing, there have been no sightings of the woman for  years, and the one tiny glimpse in that surveillance shot from Venezuela  6 months ago was a blip. There was no record of anyone matching that  description entering or leaving that country or any near it. We have no  idea where she is.” Tony muttered. “I have Friday combing every single  camera we can get access to, and hacking into those we don’t. The tip  line on that forum is blank. No one seems to have seen her.”

There was silence for a moment, as everyone sunk into their own minds. Letting the gears turn.

“Mr. Stark.” Friday’s voice came lilting out of the ceiling. “I have a hit.”

Everyone jumped a bit, leaning forward in their seats.

“Put it on the screen.” Tony snapped. Suddenly the whole blank wall  of the room was filled with various camera angles showing crowds of  people wandering on the sidewalk. In the middle of a cluster of  pedestrians was a figure draped in black, a baseball hat on their head  and a hood pulled up over it. As the person moves, the different  security camera’s flip past on the screen, keeping up with their  movement.

Instantly, Bucky’s blood ran cold.

“Where is this?” Sam whispers.

“Queens.” Bucky, Steve and Tony answer in unison.

“Very close to Parker’s apartment…” Tony whispers.

“It’s empty.” Steve mentions. “Happy and May are on vacation and Peter is staying with his friend. That Ned kid.”

“I know.” Tony says. “Doesn’t mean I like her being around the corner from his place regardless.”

The room goes quiet for a few moments as they all watch the Vipers  progress through the streets of Queens. She never picks up her head,  seeming to be watching the sidewalk in front of her. She slips easily  between groups of people, never bumping into anyone even though she  doesn’t seem to be looking at anyone.

“What are we doing?” Sam says then. “We know exactly where she is. She’s so close. Let’s go suit up.”

“There’s no way she’s here by accident.” Nat says quietly. “It’s like she wants us to find her…”

“Another layer of intrigue.” Tony snarks.

“She wouldn’t be stupid enough to show up in this city unless she  actually wants us to find her.” Nat continues. “Either they sent her  here as a trap and finally had her look into a security camera long  enough for us to track her, or she’s doing this on her own. Either way, I  don’t understand the motive.”

There’s another moment of silence as they all watch the cameras track the target.

Abruptly, the Viper stops in the middle of the sidewalk. The  pedestrians continue to flow around her, many seem to be grumbling and  some throw rude gestures in her direction.

There’s now only a single security camera in the area able to capture her image, she stands right in the center of the frame.

“What is she doing?” Steve whispers.

Through the grainy camera footage, the whole team watches as it looks  almost like her shoulders shake slightly. She seems to be looking at  her feet.

No one breathes as the woman in the center of the video lifts her  head slowly. Her eyes land directly on the lens, as if she’s peering  straight through the shitty security camera and into Avengers tower.

There’s a huge grin on her face.

Then, from the pocket of her hoodie, she pulls a pistol and calmly points the barrel at the camera.

The last thing the camera sees in her head dropping back as she begins to cackle. Then she pulls the trigger, ending the feed.

“Holy shit.” Sam whispers.

Bucky is speechless. His heart is pounding in his chest. He felt like  her eyes seared through the camera and right into his chest. He can  barely breathe.

“Friday, show us the other cameras in the area.” Tony barks.

Friday pulls up tons of camera angles of the street the Viper was  just standing on. The crowds are screaming, attempting to run away from  the spot that the Viper had clearly just been standing. However, there  are no further gun shots and no one looks injured.

“What the  hell? ” Bucky says under his breath. She just shot out a camera in the middle of a busy street in Queens? For what?

“Are there any figures matching her description on any of these feeds?” Tony snaps again.

“No sir.” Friday replies. “I’ve scanned every camera in the borough and I can’t see her on any of them.”

Everyone sits in shocked silence as the security footage continues to  roll. The NYPD show up, helping to calm the pedestrians. They watch  quietly as they start to tape off the area. Everyone knows however that  if no one was hurt, it’s unlikely that the cops will pursue the incident  further. They have much bigger fish to fry in this town.

“Well goddamn.” Sam finally breaks the silence. “That was quite a little performance.”

“She really wants us to find her then.” Nat mutters.

Around the room everyone mutters their agreement.

Bucky finds his voice finally.

“So let’s find her.”

--

There’s unending adrenaline in you now. It was reckless you knew  that. It was also so obvious what game you were playing with them at  this point, but you didn’t care.

They clearly weren’t going to make a move, so you had to play your hand first.

For better or worse, it was their move now.

[natromanxoff]

I wasn’t sure about posting this at first but as it is already shared publicly and I have come across with it on Pinterest, I decided that it would be okay. So here is a story of a fan about Jim Hutton:

“ON 23rd of March, there was a Queen Tribute band concert in Goresbridge and my boyfriend told me that Jim would come as well. He admitted that he had arranged with Stephen for Jim to come along. The concert was in the pub called The Spirit Store. What a great name for spiritual meeting, I thought. When I entered, Jim sat at the table with Stephen, Jascqueline, her sister Valeria and other family friends. There was nowhere to sit, so we just stood by the table for a while. When I looked at Jim, he appeared somewhat fragile and tiny, like a man who could easily be overlooked. He didn´t look anything like those photos portraying him in the books.

After a while, there was a free seat by the table and everyone, including Jim, moved in order for us to sit down. It was just one place and my friend Mike wanted to take it. He got up fast but they all stopped him. Jim measured Mike up and down and told him, "Perhaps you should let the lady sit here, you cavalier!" Embarassed, Mike got up from his chair and offered it to me. I got the honorable place alongside Jim. Being a woman sometimes has its advantages! Jim welcomed me with heartfelt "Hi". At first I was nervous, but after a while I felt relaxed and enjoyed Jim's company. I was aware of his behavior, gestures, laughter, and tried to absorb his energy all at once. It was easy to talk to him about anything and everything.

I wanted to know the man Freddie loved so much, so I guess I started giving him many questions.

"Jim, are you still in touch with Phoebe?" Jim looked at me closely and began to talk to me with interest. "I haven´t really been talking to him for a long time. I know he had a hotel in Dubai, then he sold it, and he's in Prague now. He also bought something overthere and I think he's going to settle down there." When I heard about Prague, I jumped up excitedly and told him that I was from there. He smiled a little, though the coincidence like this didn´t overwhelm him as much as me.

He relished glass of Budwaiser and smoked Ultra light Silk Cuts. He offered me one and lit it up for me like a real gentleman. It seemed he wanted to continue talking. We both made fun of the ultralight effect of his cigarettes, which would probably piss off every orthodox smoker, Freddie for sure! He then demonstrated jokingly, how to properly smoke them. He inhaled all the smoke by sucking in his cheeks and widening his eyes, as if he should soon burst like an inflated toad. None of us resisted and we both burst into a mad laughter. I told him about my visit to Munich and meeting Barbara. He smiled and listened, then he rolled his eyes up to heaven and stated that she is one hell of a crazy woman. I totally agreed, and added, that also alcoholic one. It was surreal to talk about mutual aquaintances together, people we both knew. I also mentioned my visit to New York club and I could see how he returns nostalgically into his memories. Then I also tried to make him remember my friend Allison, who told me about him in the first place.

"About nine years ago she visited you in London". He couldn´t remember and admitted, that since then a lot of people have passed through his life and many of them he never saw again.

I continued. "She showed me several of your photos and in one of them you were holding Freddie's portrait that you bought at the auction". Suddenly he jumped up and said he knew whom I mean.

I showed him my miniature box containing a stone and talked about it with almost patriotic pride. "It's a stone from Logan Mews that I had to dig out from under the threshold of his house, because there was nothing else to take." Jim laughed out loud, this time without any hindrance and doubt that I was totally crazy. I also laughed because I knew I sound like nuts. He remarked with smile from ear to ear that I was pretty crazy. "Yeah, I'm crazy, and I'm proud to be. Who isn´t...and by the way.....why not?" I smiled at what I just said, because that´s what Freddie would say, to defend himself. Jim then talked about the medallion that Freddie had given him for his birthday. He said, there were three miniature pictures inside. "The first is that of Miko ", he said gently, looking up at me to make sure I knew who he was talking about. "In the other one is Freddie" ... he continued with kind of fervor and love. Something deep inside me shivered. "In the third one," ... he didn´t answer yet, when I jumped into his monologue ...."Tiffany," I blurted out.

"My mom's photo," he finished his sentence. (and I prayed he didn´t register my answer).

It was nice to hear him remembering like that. He opened up in front of me the way I never dreamt of. I think it was nice for him to share these beautiful moments and to talk about things that meant so much to him. "This rock is my good luck charm. I have been listening to Queen since I´m twelve and I also work in the Fan Club's office. We celebrate his anniversary every year. When I went here, I was kidding with my friends that I might meet Jim Hutton in Ireland... and here you are, sitting right next to me. That´s my dream come true", I said all emotional.

"How do you know Stephen?", he inquired after while.

"I go out with Vinnie and they are good friends" He eyed my boyfriend and indicated that he knew who he was.

"I was annoying the two of them and was constantly asking them to bring you", I smiled.

"Oh, Jacqueline wanted me to come, alright" Jim smiled at the thought. Then he talked about the music talent competition, in which they were selecting the best imitators of Queen.

"What music are you actually listening to?" I wondered.

"I have no favorite, I'm listening to almost everything. Even a radio".

"And do you still have Zig and Zag?"

He only sighed and said in a sad voice that they had both died since then.

"And do you have any other cats?"

"Yeah, I have seven others now," Jim smiled. This number didn´t surprise me. The old habits are hard to kill.

"Do you still keep up the gardening, Jim?"

"Constantly," he said with a loving smile and amusedly showed me his hands dirty from the clay and covered in sores. For God's sake, he must have been gardening a few minutes before going to a concert!, I thought to myself. A complete garden maniac.....

We were joking on the account of the band that was supposed to start playing long time ago, but somehow did not. He told me it would be nice to get drunk, so we didn´t know how terrible they were. That really made me crack up. He could be so funny.

He joked and emphasized to everyone around the table, that instead of a concert he could have been at home watching his favorite movie. In the same breath, he admitted that he was curious about their performance and that he hadn´t been out in ages.

He leaned over to me and confessed, that now he lived a life completely cut off from the rest of the world.

"We are basically the same, I am basically like him. Now I just enjoy loneliness and privacy. I don´t go out anywhere except my garden". I immediately knew whom he was referring to in his speech.

I said that I had discovered his house in Palatine and apologized when I saw his slightly concerned look. I said I was just little curious.

He then recalled a few of his encounters with the fans. One day there was an unknown car with a couple of strangers that arrived to his house. They came all way from Vienna and they found him by questioning people in a town! Not a hard thing to trace him, he said, as every cab driver in the area knows him pretty well. One local newspaper even published a photo of his house, and although they gave a wrong address, a lot of people had found him.

That made me laugh, because I knew what it means to be a devoted fan.

"On the other hand, it's nice to know that someone is constantly looking after you and giving you the feeling that all this is still alive," I added with a smile.

"Jim, do you still have your Volvo?"

"You mean the one that Freddie gave me?.....No, I don´t have it few years now, I´ve swapped it for a new one," he smiled.

He was all too gallant all the time, always lighting my cigarette.

He also wondered how long I would stay in Ireland, so I said that only another half a year.

"And you wanna come back here?" He asked suddenly.

"Oh, I'd love to. I'm trying to find a job either in Carlow or Kilkenny," I said enthusiastically.

Then I fell silent, looked at him and assured him "Definitely."

Each time he looked up into my eyes, I saw an incredibly nice person in front of me. Something in his silent expression suggested that he had suffered great deal of pain in life, but that he was now completely reconciled with his fate. Still, in his eyes shone a spark of unrelenting humor. In his company I forgot all about the world. I was happy to be able to make such an affluent and warm contact with him. The longer we knew each other, the closer we were.

When he wanted to go to the toilet, Stephen told him that the men's toilets were behind the bar and the ladies in front of the bar. It sounded like he wasn´t quite sure which one would Jim prefer.

But Jim didn´t care much and set off to the men's. I admit it made me laugh a little.

Then we continued our dialogue. I mentioned that I read both his and Phoebe's book, but that I couldn´t find his book anywhere in the stores. He confirmed that it´s out of print at the minute.

When I told him that I had stolen his book at the local library, he laughed and said that I should have asked him and he would have given me a copy, but he only had Italian version.

Finally, the band started to play. Everyone in the pub stood up and whole lot of us - as we were tucked in at the back, climbed onto the window ledges. I stood next to Jim, who remained seated.

He looked a little bit run over. I knew he was surrounded by the loneliness and I watched him with sadness. I lacked much power or words to comfort him. It was only after some wonderful songs that we both joined and got up. He could not remain sad in such a loving and friendly company for ever.

When he noticed the enormous, life-vibrant energy that only Queen music could produce in conjunction with a crowd of people singing, I think he forgot his personal pain. I could see pride in his face. He stood up and watched the band. Then he addressed me and made me come up onto the ledge above him to see better. I would not listen to anybody else, but from him it didn´t sound like an order. He wanted me to get the most out of it and it pleased me. Then we sat back and drank. Jim seemed to be getting cheerful and livelier. The more he drank, the more cheerful he was. The guys ordered him Red Bull with vodka. When I asked him if it was vodka, he claimed it was white lemonade! He put a warm glass of "vodka" on my hand, so I almost jumped out of my skin, which he thought was terribly funny.

Whatever he did, he looked at me as though I was the only person who knew what was behind his looks. His faces and funny grimaces reminded me of Freddie. He had a lot of subconsciously inherited poses and gestures from him. Even in his laughter I could detect an influence of Freddie's strong personality. He simply marked all people around him. It was not the same contagious and stormy laugh, but there was a spark of resemblance.

His niece Jacqueline, Valerie and Stephen, danced all the time on the ledge and Jim was pulling them and wrapping himself in between their legs, hugging them, clinging to them, and messing around like a little boy. It was a wonderful sight, as he was so happy and childish.

After some time, Jim lost himself in a crowd of concert goers, so I went to look for him. Without his company it felt such a sad place. It was as if he had fallen through the ground, which made me very nervous. Finally, I found him by the entrance table, where he was joking away with one old blonde, not too different from frivolous Barbara Valentin. I asked him for a photo together. At first he looked impenetrable but as soon as I threw a sad eye and smirked, he brightened up and agreed as if saying "You know you can, anything for you, darling"

His niece Valerie took our picture. He then whispered to me that he hopes I´ll send him some pictures later.

After that he announced that we are going back inside to listen to the band.

I saw them from close-up and I must say that it was much better to just hear them. They looked rather too comic with all their wigs. It was something that would make Freddie laugh too.

I told Jim that they don´t look very natural,which he agreed with, but he said he couldn´t complain about their music. He was totally right, because musically they weren´t bad and the singer had a very authentic voice.

Inside, everybody was dancing and Jim joined in and circled around them like a rogalo.

The whole pub vibrated with intense and loving energy. There was no one who would be bored. Jim then threw himself in the arms of his two nieces, who gently caressed him in his hair and embraced him. He let them take care of him, now vulnerable like a little lost child all of a sudden.

There was something deeply touching about it. He had closed his eyes and sadly lowered his head, as if his tears flowed deep inside, in his invisible world. I realized at this stage, how much he really loved Freddie. I was looking at him and I had a desire to caress him and comfort him but instead, I had to stand aside.

"You can have everything and yet feel alone", Freddie once said. But I was glad Jim had his family and friends around him, who cared and protected him. Jim was going through sorrow and joy,both at the same time, it seemed.

During one of his many shananigans, I caught him messing around with his niece's boyfriend.

He sat him on his knees and imitated sexual intercourse. It would seem offensive and utterly crazy to someone who didn´t know him. But we all did. Jim was laughing like crazy and when he finally looked at me, he seemed a little embarrassed by his behavior and gave me a look that said"I hope you won´t tell on me to Freddie"...but it was hard to take him seriously.

We both smiled conspiratorially at each other. In that sense, our relationship no matter how short-lived, was special. We understood one another in thoughts. He winked at me a couple of times, tapping my beer like an old buddy.

In one moment in particular, Jim leaned over me and whispered: "You as a fan have right to be crazy, but them" ... pointing at our dancing group of friends ... " they are fucked up", he said with smile and he began to knock his finger against his forehead. An international gesture that doesn´t need an interpreter!

Jim then went to the toilets for a while, and I, like a stray sheep, followed him through crowds of oblivious dancers. He was somewhat drunk at that time and barely retained a balance. He staggered a little like a broken tree. No surprise after god knows how many Red bulls and vodkas! I was bit afraid for him, so I supported him inconspicuously by both shoulders from behind. He went to the toilet and cared too little to even close the door behind him. If anyone was looking, he would see Jim Hutton pissing in a toilet bowl in his bright canary shirt.

At that moment they played the most touching song of all, These are the Days of our lives .... I stood by the door and listened, watching the band and waited for Jim. I don´t know why, perhaps because of the fate that brought me here, I suddenly felt terrible sorrow. I was sorry for Freddie and Jim. Tears poured into my eyes. I didn´t cry, but was very close to it. Jim suddenly appeared next to me and noticed my face. "What about those tears? I hope you don´t cry", but at this stage I was lost for words. His concern made me sad even more. Something inside me forced me to caress him. I hugged him gently around his neck and put my head on his shoulder for a moment. I wanted to let him know that I am very sorry about what happened to Freddie. He did not resist. He knew he wasn´t the only one in the world who was missing him. I looked into his eyes, and I told him a sentence that I didn´t know why I said, but I strongly felt it..."Jim, he's here, he IS here." His expression was rather confused at first. "Do you believe me?" ... I said this with a seriousness and a certain degree of self-assurance that he froze for a while. He looked thoughtful. He knew what I was talking about.

I seemed to only confirm his inner conviction. He didn´t say a word. He wiped my tear away with the edge of his hand and without warning, took me firmly by the hand and led me through crowds back to our friends. There was a lot of care and love in his touch. The music was just playing and Freddie just sang "I still love you" and I knew he did.

I didn´t want to leave, but I knew I said everything I needed to. I could not leave without saying goodbye. It would be a sin after all this to just disappear into eternity. I interrupted him from the conversation with someone else, leaned over the table and said, "Jim, I'm leaving now, so I want to say goodbye, it was great pleasure meeting you." I smiled as much as my heart allowed me to and shook his hand. He stared up and thought for a moment, and then, without any hesitance said, "We do not see each other for the last time." I didn´t know at this time how true his words were.

I thought I did not understand well, so I asked again, "sorry?" and he repeated patiently and more resolutely, "I shall surely see you again," while taking my hand into his hands and kissing it gently.

He left me in amazement. I stumbled out from there perplexed but still I could hear him talking about me to someone there. He probably said he hadn´t seen a bigger nutcase in a long time, assuming from his cute teddybear smile. Gosh I loved him so much!

The next day I learned from my friends that Jim was looking next morning for his jacket that he had forgotten in his car. Few days later, I've sent him the promised photographs. Jacquie confirmed that he called in to say he had received them allright.”

2001

“...And then I returned back to Ireland in 2004.

I had the opportunity to welcome Jim to my own home in Carlow sometime in 2006. He was Stephen´s surprise. When the door opened up, I didn´t see him at first.

Then his head popped out from the side of the door and with a laugh he emerged a bit later. He hugged me like we hadn´t seen each other for million years. What I felt at that moment was indescripable. My dear Jim back in my life and in my own house!

We all sat in the living room, Jim settled down on the sofa, I was sitting on the ground and absorbed the precious moments because I knew time spent with him was only borrowed time. Then we watched Queen videos and talked about Freddie as if he were in the next room. It was so surreal. Me and Jim agreed that our favorite video was Scandal, and he just added that Freddie didn´t like it very much because he couldn´t make any creative input in it, although he loved the song.

Then we talked about his illness, about him taking up to 40 pills a day to sustain his health and he also explained the difference between AIDS and HIV, as many people still didn´t know. We have talked so much and - above all - we laughed all night, almost at everything. It was so easy to succumb to his funny personality once again and to his heartfelt laughter. He made jokes about fancying my ex-boyfriend, whom he lied on top of on the sofa. Long time ago, I´ve sent him a letter explaining to him how Freddie has impacted my life. But I've forgotten I´ve ever written it and now I was faced with the horror that I actually have sent it. I hoped he has forgotten about it, but when Jim and I met in the corridor of our house, I couldn´t but apologize to him for that letter, and for being so daring. To my surprise, he looked at me softly with his tired eyes and assured me that my letter was absolutely fascinating. Then we were interrupted by Stephen, who was just leaving a toilet and the conversation was cut short at that point. Unfortunatelly I would never have the chance to find out what was the next thing he was about to say, because I noticed he wanted to continue, if he weren´t interrupted.

When we were saying goodbye at the door, he treated me as an old friend. He simply kissed me on the lips, which utterly shocked me and made me laugh at the same time.

He invited us back to his house to have a little party, but my ex-boyfriend was not in the perfect mood and so we politely declined, which I will forever regret!

About a year after that I bumped into Jim several times in the city where we both lived, or we exchanged text messages whenever I needed to advise what room flowers would be best for our new house. Sometimes I learnt about how he´s doing through my ex-boyfriend, who used to hang out with him and drink few pints in a night bar. Once my ex confessed how Jim told him that I was a great person and he should be happy to have me. They must have been talking about me!!!!

Then I met Jim one night in the nightclub, where he was with his friends. He spent most of his time sitting in the lounge smoking a cigarette, having fun with younger girls. Wherever he was, you heard his laughter. That night my ex-boyfriend arranged for Jim and me to have a dance together.

Jim was just dancing on the dancefloor with some older woman. I remember he had his jumper tied around his waist. I just got onto the dancefloor, he looked at me all serious and pulled me close to him. It was some tediously slow song that I can´t even remember, I just know that we were staggering from side to side like two handiccaped penguins and that made me laugh hysterically.

He was such a clown! Now, however, I consider this moment as one of the most precious memories of him. It was my night.

Back in 2009, I have learned that Jim was diagnosed with cancer. My ex-boyfriend told me how concerned Jim was when informing him. He said, he wept. At that time I didn´t know how serious the situation was and I hoped Jim will get better in no time. I believed the doctors would somehow help him out of it. I saw him a little later at work when he came to our restaurant for breakfast.

I almost served him as another customer, but when I realized it was him, I pulled myself back into the kitchen and let the other girls serve him. He never noticed. I was in such state of shock. I didn´t know what to do, how to act and what to say. He was so thin, just skin and bone. His face was sinking, his eyes full of pain, a small tube leading from his nose to the oxygen device he carried in his backpack and a small canvas hat on his head. I couldn´t believe this was Jim, whom I have remembered being so full of life and joy only half a year ago. I wanted to cry like never before. I also felt embarassed by my own cowardly reaction. I wished more than anything in my life to hug him and say I loved him. I wanted to wish him a happy Christmas. But I was scared of my own tears, which would not help him in his situation.

I wrote him a message on the phone, but he didn´t respond. And then I got the terrible news. Jim died and somehow I also missed his funeral. I took a first taxi and went at least to his months Mass and visited his grave, bringing him daffodils and little white lantern with candle. It was so hard for me. His relatives stood above his grave. I said my prayers in a minute of silence. The air didn´t move and the moon was full in the night sky. It was dark and cold all around but I didn´t care.

I wanted to see him laugh and mess around like he used to. It was as if another star had disappeared and fell to the earth. If only life could last forever.”

2006-2010

Credits to Seraphiel’s blog. Please don’t repost without credits.

[tirednotflirting]

i could do without a tan on my left hand where my fourth finger meets my knuckle

hello again i was here approx ten min ago and now i am back. kinda. also jesus that title looks LONG wow

this is not new! this was posted to ao3 a touch under a month ago for my darling @clumsyclifford​‘s birthday and i’m just a dummy and never posted it to tumblr. so here i am sdlkfjsdl

i got very VERY emo over my love for bella in the a/n on ao3 so you can read my love letter there hehe. bella, babes, i love you so crazy much and i feel so lucky to know you and to call you a friend. thank you for teaching me how to love the things i create and encourage me to really actually grow as a writer. it’s been a lot of fun and a great deal of the confidence i have in myself now is thanks to the early support i got from people like yourself. hope you have a happy wednesday filled with many cups of tea <3

here this is on ao3 if that’s more ur jam 

Love is a mug of tea.

2020, Maryland

Alex loves his kitchen.

He loves the big island right in the center of it and the windows over the sink facing out toward the barn. He loves the random assortment of tea towels his mom gave him when he first moved out, and how they’ve traveled with him to each new home over the years. He loves the fridge with lots of space for pictures of friends and family that greet him each time he walks into the room.

The sun is just rising over the top of the barn. He’s been awake for a little over an hour now. Starting his days in the barn is something he’s grown to love, the early mornings for feeding and greeting his animal friends being the only way he can manage being up before the sun. Once he made it back to the house, he quickly showered before throwing his pajamas back on. There was nowhere else they needed to be today so he figured it appropriate.

He fills and sets his kettle to boil in the corner. The clock on the microwave tells Alex it’s 7AM and he hears the familiar click of the coffee machine starting up. (He had been particularly proud of himself when he figured out how to use that setting.) Alex grabs a couple mugs and drops a tea bag into the one he’s claimed for himself for the morning just as the kettle clicks off. He pours water into the mug and hops up onto the island to wait for the tea to steep.

Alex is scrolling down his Twitter feed a couple minutes later when he hears human footsteps followed by the tapping of the dogs’ nails against the tile. He locks his phone and sets it beside him just in time for Jack to step between Alex’s legs and wrap his arms around his waist. Alex laughs quietly as Jack drops his head to rest against his chest. “Good morning, my love,” Alex greets him in a scratchy voice and runs his fingers through Jack’s bedhead.

Jack hums at the feeling and leans his head back against Alex’s hand. “Hello,” he replies. He sighs and moves to stand straight before leaning in to press a quick kiss to Alex’s lips. Jack smiles lazily and turns to the counter where the coffee machine sits. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Was up later than I wanted to be on that call with Mark trying to figure out the plan for next week.”

“You two are always chatty,” Jack says with a smile in his voice while he stirs sugar and milk into his mug. “What time is our flight out tomorrow again?”

Alex slides off the counter to the floor and takes the spot beside Jack, taking the milk carton from him when it’s offered to add to his tea. “Not until the evening. We can probably sleep in a bit, if you want to.”

“I like the way you think,” Jack responds, accepting the milk again when Alex holds it in his direction. He wraps an arm around Alex’s middle to pull him back against chest and presses his lips to Alex’s temple before stepping away to the fridge. Alex feels something pull at the leg of his pajama pants and when he looks down, both of the dogs sit at his feet. He laughs and abandons his mug on the counter to head out of the kitchen towards the back door. Tiny paws click against the wood floor behind him. They race out the door when he finally gets it open.

When he returns to the kitchen, a gentle smile pulls at his lips and he leans against the doorframe for a moment to admire the view. Jack sits in his regular seat at the kitchen island. He’s put his glasses on sometime in the last minute or so since Alex left the room. One hand holds the handle of his coffee mug while the other holds open a novel his mom had sent home with him after he visited her earlier in the week. The sunrise shines through the window over the sink, painting the room in yellow-orange light. It’s a view Alex knows he’s never going to get tired of.

He loves mornings with Jack. When they’re spending their time like this, with their shared early morning routines or deciding who will do what chores around the house that day, it’s easy to imagine spending the rest of his life like this. He can see them, years from now, hosting holiday parties on the farm or arguing over why they should or shouldn’t watch National Treasure 2 for the twelfth time that month, and it takes everything in him not to race back upstairs to grab the ring box he’s got hiding in the back of his closet.

Alex loves his kitchen. Though, as he watches Jack smile down at his novel before pausing to sip from his mug, Alex realizes that the thought of sharing the space with the person he loves has made him love it infinitely more.

“Hey, Jack?”

Jack hums in acknowledgement without looking up from his book.

“Do you want to move in?”

Jack looks up to meet his gaze from across the counter. His brows raise in what is probably surprise and a tiny smile forms across his lips. “Sure.”

“Really?”

Jack folds the corner of the page he’s on before closing it shut. “What? Did you think I’d say no?”

Alex shakes his head with a laugh. “No, I just wasn’t really sure what else to say,” he explains. “I’m just, I don’t know, excited? This is gonna be fun.”

Alex shuffles around the counter into Jack’s open arms that settle around his waist. “It is,” Jack agrees. “Though, I will say, if I’m going to help around the farm more, we’re gonna have to give Milk a talk.”

Alex rolls his eyes and lifts his arms to rest on Jack’s shoulders. “I already told you, the goat is not flirting with you. He bites everyone’s ass.”

“Your goat is trying to steal me away from you.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Thank you.” Jack says, sincerely. A moment later, he cracks and laughs as he tugs Alex in closer. He presses another kiss against his lips. “You realize our mothers are going to start their wedding planning thing again once we tell them about this though, right?”

“Maybe I’ll join them for their brunches this time around,” Alex suggests and lets his forehead rest against Jack’s.

“Sure. Just make sure they’ve got next June blocked off since we’ll be on tour,” Jack replies jokingly before squeezing Alex’s waist to move him aside so he can stand to get more coffee. Alex steals his seat and watches him go through the motions of making his second mug. Without asking, Jack sets the kettle to boil again and pulls the box of Alex’s tea out of the cupboard. The sun has risen more and casts a golden glow on Jack through the window while he rinses his mug. Jack’s always looked his best in the morning, Alex thinks. He considers pulling his phone out to snap a picture, but then he remembers that this exact image isn’t going to be one that’s limited by whatever things might be keeping them stuck in their own homes on opposite sides of the country. That home isn’t going to be a plural for them anymore.

He thinks back to the ring box. Maybe it’s going to need a better hiding spot now.

Jack turns back to Alex, a puzzled look on his face, likely in response to Alex’s lack of a response to his question. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they know.”

“Good,” Jack says with a wink. He reaches across the counter for his book. “Gonna go finish this chapter on the porch. Care to join?”

Alex smiles. “Let me make my tea first, I’ll be out in a few.”

Jack nods. “Good plan. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Jack presses a kiss to his hair when he passes him, and Alex watches him head for the front door from his spot at the island. Even more sunshine greets Jack as he opens the door, the windchime out front twinkling a good morning.

It’s going to be a good day.

Love is hotel sheets and a cup of coffee.

2018, New York, New York

The first time Jack wakes up it’s because he feels a dip in the mattress behind him and a warm arm wrapping back around his middle.

Without opening his eyes, he smiles at the feeling of Alex’s lips pressing against the back of his neck. “Flight was canceled because of the storm,” Alex explains, his voice scratchy with sleep. They were meant to have an early flight off to the next city but it’s an off day anyway so the delay in travel shouldn’t really matter. “We’re booked for another one at like, ten tonight or something.”

He turns in Alex’s arms and lets his eyes flutter open. It’s still really early and the curtains are pulled shut, leaving the room dark like the middle of the night. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust before he can really make out any of his boy’s features. Alex settles onto his back and pulls Jack halfway onto his chest. Jack lifts a hand to hold Alex’s cheek, his thumb brushing along the darker circles below his eyes. They’re only a few days away from a break for a couple weeks, and the little sleep he knows Alex has been allowing himself is starting to show. Jack is looking forward to getting them both back to his place to just sleep for a day or five.

“Sounds like the weather in New York wants you to sleep for a few more hours with your handsome boyfriend, then.”

Jack feels Alex laugh from where his cheek rests against his chest. “The storm knows you're handsome?”

“Of course,” Jack sighs. “It’s a universally known fact.”

“Guess we have to keep sleeping.”

“We do, yes,” Jack agrees. He lifts himself up for a moment to press a kiss to Alex’s jaw, smiling at the feeling of his lashes brushing against Alex’s stubbly cheek. Jack cuddles back against his chest and lets his eyes fall shut as their legs tangle below the sheets. He’s asleep again a moment later.

The next time Jack wakes up, the room is still mostly dark but he’s alone.

A thin stream of light shining through a spot in the curtains and the smell of coffee somewhere in the room tells him that enough time has passed that it’s likely a normal morning hour now. It also tells him that Alex is awake somewhere. Jack sits up slowly in bed and looks around the room, expecting to find Alex sitting in the chair in the corner scrolling through Twitter on his phone or writing at the desk. He frowns when he finds the room empty of his boyfriend until then he hears a sneeze on the other side of the curtain. Laughing quietly to himself, Jack rubs the sleep from his eyes. He turns to get out of the bed and, after spotting the pot of coffee, pours himself a mug.

Growing up, Jack has always hated staying in hotels. The rooms were always too cold, the air conditioner too noisy, the pillows just a bit too fluffy. He often found himself jealous of kids who found hotel rooms to be like a magic place to be because he was always miserable until he could crawl back into his own bed back home.

It was better once they started traveling for band stuff. He started bringing his own pillow (the firmness and familiar scent both providing a sense of comfort). And if he ever forgot it on the bus, Alex's chest was a decent substitute. A bed would never feel cold with Alex the Human Furnace pressed against his back below the sheets. The sound of the air conditioning was easily drowned out when he had the gentle, steady puffs of Alex’s breath against his neck to count instead of sheep.

He crosses the room, pausing for a moment to grab a hoodie and his new book from his carry-on, and pulls away the curtain to step out onto the balcony. Alex turns up from his journal and smiles up at him. He’s still in pajama pants and a long sleeve he likely pulled from Jack’s bag. “Good morning, love.”

Jack leans down to press a kiss to the top of Alex’s head before moving to lean against the railing. “Is it still morning?”

“Well, no,” Alex laughs. “But we’re on tour, so it can be morning if we want it to be.”

Jack looks down onto the street, to all of the tiny people moving from place to place. Everyone in New York always moves quickly, Jack thinks. With purpose. He admires that. “Well, good morning to you too,” he replies. “Why are we out of bed if we don’t have to be in an airport for several more hours?”

“I wanted to watch the city,” Alex explains. He lifts his mug to take another sip before continuing. “We move so fast these days. I miss getting to explore.”

“Hard to explore from this balcony.”

“Rian found some restaurant a few blocks away he wants to do an early dinner at,” Alex says, with a wave of his hand. “We can explore then. We’re resting right now.”

“City does still look pretty from here,” Jack observes. Autumn looks nice on New York, he thinks. The winters are too cold and the summers are too hot. Mid-October, when it’s cool but not cold, when the trees are all a rainbow of oranges and reds, that’s his favorite time to be in the city. From where they sit right now, with the sun shining down to warm them and a cool breeze blowing around the steam rising from his mug, it’s easy to say this might be his favorite morning in the city to date.

“Exactly,” Alex smiles while he watches Jack look out over the railing at the buildings and sky.

“What are you working on?” Jack asks. He takes the seat beside Alex and props his feet up on the chair opposite him.

“Feels like lyrics but I might just be journaling,” Alex replies. “I can’t really tell.”

“What are you writing about?”

“You,” Alex responds without hesitation. A decade ago, if Jack had asked that question, Alex likely would have looked up at him with a blush painted across his cheeks and quickly shut the book closed before saying nothing, just songwriter stuff. They’ve come a long way since then.

“Gonna be our next big hit?” Jack jokes.

“Oh, absolutely,” Alex says with a wink. Alex reaches for Jack’s hand after he sets his mug back down and lifts it to press a kiss against his knuckles. He holds onto Jack’s fingers for a moment longer as he takes a deep breath, the early afternoon sun shining on his face, before he lets go to pick up his pen again.

Jack loves touring. He wants them to keep touring until they’re old and gray and even Zack struggles to run and jump across the stage. He loves traveling and finding new undiscovered corners of the world. He loves how it always feels fresh and new in every place they land. He loves not knowing exactly what’s going to come next.

He spent a long time wondering if he should want to settle down. To find a place to really build a more permanent life for himself at some point. But then he looks across the table at Alex and watches the way he bites at the end of his pen. He watches his eyes light up in joy before the pen falls back to the paper in his journal, the lyrics or story or notes about something scratching their way into the page. Alex reaches again for his mug and pauses his scribbling to take a sip. His eyes meet Jack's gaze and he smiles in his direction before returning to the task at hand.

Maybe settling down doesn’t have to be a place. It can be sharing a bed with the same person even if that bed is a new one each night. It can be a pair of dark brown eyes that for the last 20 years can always find his own, even in the most crowded rooms.  

Hotel day or not, Jack knows he can’t spend the whole day throwing heart eyes across the table while Alex works. Over the years, Jack has noticed that Alex is always too nice to ask for alone time while he writes despite everyone knowing he likes it sometimes. He takes the last sip of his coffee and moves to stand.

“Gonna go bug Zack while he works out for awhile,” Jack says, pushing the sliding glass door open. “I’ll come find you in a few hours.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,” Alex laughs, his eyes squinting up at Jack against the sunlight. “Have fun.”

Jack blows him a kiss before stepping back inside. He digs his slides out of his bag and grabs a key card before wandering out of the room and in the direction of the elevators.

On his trip down to the ground floor, he starts thinking about it again, what settling down would look like for him. He's starting to realize that the struggle there is that he can’t picture a settled future for himself because the only future he sees is about a them rather than a him. No matter where they go, Alex is and always has been home.

And maybe, Jack thinks, it’s as simple as that.

Love is a sweater and sky full of stars.

2012, Middle of Nowhere, Southwest USA

The first time Alex steals a hoodie from Jack is February during their sophomore year of high school. Jack’s parents were out of town visiting his sister so they ended up at his place after band practice. They nicked a couple of beers from the fridge in the garage and spent fifteen minutes debating if they had reorganized the remaining bottles in a way that made it less obvious there might be a couple missing.

It was another fifteen or so minutes of drinking and complaining about algebra exams before Alex shivered in the deck chair he had claimed. Alex never said a word, but Jack must have noticed the goosebumps on his bare arms and wordlessly got up to go inside. A couple minutes later, the confused look on Alex’s face was answered with a navy blue hoodie thrown in his face.

He laughed and thanked Jack before he pulled it over his head. It was soft and warm from being inside. When he pulled the hood up over his hair, he was met with the scent of lavender laundry detergent and the body spray Jack had taken a liking to that winter. Alex would never admit to how he started hating the smell of it a little less when Jack started wearing it.

Alex pulled the sleeves over his hands and shoved them into the hoodie pocket. When he looked back up across the metal patio table, a small smile pulled at Jack’s lips. Alex wasn’t given the time to ask what the look had been for before Jack launched into another story about something that had happened in his chemistry lab earlier that week.

(It’s not until they’re on tour the summer after they graduate that Alex really understands what the look was for. He doesn’t really get it until Jack is kissing him against the bunks, his hands sliding underneath a sweatshirt Alex had pulled from Jack’s suitcase. Though it’s impossible for the meaning to be more obvious when You look cute in my clothes is whispered between their lips. Alex only laughs in response and trips over his own feet dragging Jack towards the back lounge.)

Nearly ten years since that night at Jack’s parents’ place, Alex still finds himself thankful that Jack’s sweaters fit loosely on him and smell like the mixture of fragrances that make up his boy. It’s still the same laundry detergent his mom used in the early 2000s, but the cologne Jack wears now is much nicer than the stuff he used to douse himself in every morning before school. He’s pretty sure it’s the one that Rian bought Jack for Christmas last year. Alex will have to ask him in the morning.

The A/C kicks on above where he sits on the tour bus couch, and Alex pulls the sleeves of the sweatshirt he’d stolen out of Jack’s bunk over his hands. He’s having a tea, one of those calming, nighttime ones, in a desperate attempt to settle his mind so he can get some sleep before they’re parked at a new venue in a new city in the morning. The show earlier that night had felt electric, Alex had been more in tune with this crowd than he had in a while. It was a glorious feeling to walk off stage with, but it also meant that the buzz was still tingling a bit just below his skin hours later.

Tea and his journal were his typical go-to choices to relax on a night like this, but unfortunately, his normal methods were failing him. He takes a deep breath, wondering for a moment if he should try out some of those meditation techniques Zack had taught him, and then he feels the bus come to a stop.

He pulls aside one of the curtains to check out where they’re at. Some kind of gas station, it appears. No obvious signs of that much civilization around it, very typical middle of nowhere Arizona (or maybe New Mexico?). He watches their bus driver wander out in front of the bus and shake hands with one of the guys driving the bus some of the other crew are on. Everyone is just stretching their legs, it looks like.

He reaches for his mug to take another sip and frowns down at the ceramic when he realizes it’s empty. Alex considers digging the box of tea out of the crowded kitchen storage for a moment before glancing toward the front of the bus. With a nod to himself, he leaves the mug in the sink and heads up for the door.

They’re in basically the desert and it’s the middle of the night in November, so Alex really has no reason to be surprised by the chill in the air he’s greeted with after stepping out into the lot. He pulls his sleeves back over his palms and walks out further into the lot. Alex hears someone call his name. Across the lot he sees their driver waving. “We’re leaving in thirty. Be back on the bus by then.”

“Got it,” he yells back. And then it’s silent.

That’s always been one of the best things about traveling at night like this. He finds it exciting to really truly be in the middle of nowhere, where he can step out of the bus into stillness, the only sounds being the tiny chirping of bugs or tree branches blowing in the wind. That’s not even his favorite part though. He tips his face up toward the night sky and squeezes his eyes shut to get them more accustomed to the darkness.

No, his favorite part is the stars.

Alex is endlessly grateful for the opportunities they’ve had the last few years to live and work in big, important cities, but he misses the skies he got to call his own out in the suburbs of Baltimore. The light pollution in LA is so bad he can’t see a single star. After about a month out there, he sadly resigned himself to looking up into the sky for the blinking lights of airplanes and just playing pretend.

There’s no need for that out here. The sky above his head here is filled with glittery lights millions of miles away, with giant stars so big he can’t really comprehend their size. It makes him feel kind of small. Alex likes that feeling sometimes. Puts things into perspective, he thinks.

He’s too busy gazing up above his head, trying to find constellations and planets he knows should be visible at this time in the year, that he doesn’t notice the footsteps approaching from behind him. A pair of arms wrap around his waist and he jumps only for a moment before he looks down and recognizes the hands folded over his middle. Jack drops his head to rest on Alex’s shoulder. “Why the fuck are you still awake?” Jack mumbles sleepily against Alex’s neck.

Alex leans back into his chest. “I couldn’t sleep and I felt us stop,” he explains. “I came out to say hello to my friends.”

“You mean the stars?” Jack asks.

“The planets, too. Oh, and the moon.”

“You’ve got quite the posse,” Jack laughs, his lips pressing against the tattoo behind Alex’s ear. “Can I join you?”

“Always,” Alex smiles.

They take a seat on the hard ground and start recapping their day quietly to each other as they face up toward the sky. Despite both of them knowing Alex runs warmer between the two of them, Alex doesn’t say a word when Jack drops an arm around his waist to pull him in closer to his side. Jack starts recounting a dream he was having before he woke up and draws patterns with his fingertip against Alex’s knee. Eventually they grow quiet for a few moments. Before the silence can settle around them too heavily, Jack starts calling out the names of different constellations he can see.

The universe works in funny ways, Alex has always thought. It can spin together new galaxies and expand on and on forever and build up a bright and brilliant sky like the one they’re looking up at right now. But it also made Jack choose to sit at Alex’s lunch table back in the eighth grade and shoved all four of them together on this wild journey and let Jack and Alex fall in love. It’s crazy to Alex that something capable of making and doing such big things would focus any energy on a couple of suburban boys sitting in a parking lot in the middle of nowhere on a punk band tour.

And suddenly, as Alex sits pressed against Jack, watching the person he loves most in the world gaze up at the clear night sky in wonder, his free hand pointing up at all of the constellations Alex had taught him over the years, words start circling around his head. Bits and pieces of lyrics about love and galaxies forming, warm sweaters and cool nights. He blinks away all the words though to let his vision clear. He can write the song another day. Right now, he’d rather focus on the smile pulling across Jack’s cheeks and the way he squeezes Alex’s hand every time he remembers the name of another star in the Little Dipper.

“Alex, was that right?” Jack asks and pulls Alex out of the love drunk headspace he’d been caught up in.

“I love you,” he sighs in response, his mind not able to process any other words. Alex lifts his hand from his lap to cup around Jack’s neck to bring their lips together for a moment. When he pulls away, Alex catches the pale blush on Jack’s cheeks in the light from the parking lot.

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” Jack teases with a laugh. “But I love you, too.”

“You were distracting me so I missed whatever you said, but you were probably right. You’ve gotten pretty good at this.”

Jack flashes him a proud smile. “I have a good teacher.”

“Come on, lovebirds. We’ve got a show to get to,” a voice says down to them. Alex looks up at their driver, who laughs at their blushed cheeks before continuing on to the front of the bus.

Jack gets up first and helps Alex to his feet. Their fingers tangle together as they make a sleepy walk back to the bus. “Stay with me tonight?” Jack asks in a whisper once they’re back inside and the ground starts to rumble gently below their feet.

Alex nods and lets Jack guide them toward the bunks. He hits the light switch as he passes it. “You know, if you keep getting taller, one day it’s going to be physically impossible to fit both of us in there.”

“I like a challenge,” Jack whispers back in the dark before dropping into the bunk. Alex follows after and tucks himself into Jack’s side, his head falling to rest in its typical spot on his chest. Alex knows he’ll get too warm in the night and should probably lose the sweatshirt, but the extra layer of Jack relaxes him better than any cup of tea could ever dream of.

“Thanks for stargazing with me,” Alex sighs, the lateness of the hour finally hitting him. Jack reaches down and pulls a blanket over them both.

“Always,” Jack assures him, his arm wrapping around Alex’s waist.

All night long Alex dreams of bright, clear skies full of stars and Jack holding his hand while naming them all.

Love is a thin gold band sitting in a dish beside the sink.

2032, Maryland

They had received the little blue bowl as a fifth anniversary gift from Rian after he had received a call from the two of them at 2AM tipsy and nearly crying because Alex’s wedding band had slipped off while doing the dishes. Rian had been staying at his parents’ place at the time and showed up an hour later, toolbox in hand, to help them find the ring. It’s been another five years since then but it’s still Rian’s favorite story to tell whenever he’s in town and Jack and Alex are hosting a party.

Jack had never had an issue with his ring trying to slip past his knuckle while cleaning up after dinner. But after the scare with Alex’s, he figures there’s no use in testing chance. So after turning on the hot water tap, he places the band into the dish. He sticks his hand under the water and waits for it to warm, knowing it might be a minute or two since he’s pretty sure he heard Alex running the shower a few minutes earlier after returning from the barn.

Married life isn’t what Jack expected it to be. He kind of assumed they would bicker over random tiny things in the way that his parents did. There was a part of him that thought maybe this would be the thing that made him start feeling like an actual grown up, that a ring on his left hand might be the missing piece to the puzzle of feeling like a put together adult. But nothing really changed. They had both been living on the farm during breaks from tour for a couple years by the time Alex finally asked while on a trip to the cabin. So there was no moving around and there really wasn’t a shift in any other part of their lives to work with either. It was like Rian had said during his best man speech: “I mean come on, guys, you’ve basically been married since we graduated high school.”

He had been worried he would be bad at it. Alex had always been better at sitting still than he was. It had been the original reason Jack gravitated toward Alex. No one else had ever known how to calm Jack enough to stop the constant motion in his world for a minute. Guiding words or a hand against his back from Alex had always been the one thing to ground him, whether they were on a long flight or on a stage in front of twenty thousand people. Alex was always the answer.

It doesn’t take long to finish up the dishes. They had cleaned as they went while cooking so it was just a few plates to clear away. After Alex had carried the stack of them to the sink, Jack waved him away in the direction of the living room. Reluctantly, Alex had rolled his eyes and said a quiet thank you before he refilled his wine glass from the bottle in the fridge and wandered out of the room.

Now, Jack turns off the tap and grabs the towel to dry his hands before slipping his ring back. He retrieves his own glass from the dining room and fills it with the white that Alex had picked up for them to try and steps across the hall to join him.

Alex sits curled up in his usual corner of the couch, his glasses slipping toward the end of his nose as he taps against the screen of the tablet in his lap. He scratches at his head in thought and his beanie falls to the cushion behind him. He doesn’t bother reaching for it again. As Jack takes the spot beside him, he smiles at the touch of gray in Alex’s roots that show through the faded purple he’s had for a while. Jack’s been trying to get him to embrace his graceful aging for ages, but he admires Alex’s very punk insistence on hiding the silver hairs below blues and pinks.

“What are you working on?” Jack asks. He lets his head fall to rest against Alex’s shoulder after setting his glass on the coffee table.

“Mark said the Sunday puzzle was fun this week so I’m giving it a shot,” Alex replies without looking up from the screen. “I forget ‘fun’ in his words means really fucking hard, though.”

“He’s a very smart boy,” Jack says, thoughtfully.

“The smartest.”

They sit in silence for a few more minutes while Alex tries out different options for 16 across. Eventually, he sighs and hits the button to lock the screen. He replaces the tablet with his glass of wine, and they adjust so Jack sits between Alex’s legs with his head resting against Alex’s chest. Most evenings end like this these days when they’re not out on tour. It’s Jack’s favorite part of the day. Sometimes they both sit and work through a couple chapters of whatever book they each picked up recently. Sometimes they watch a movie. But they’re always together in this room as the sunset turns to twilight, and it’s something Jack is grateful for.

The dim room lights up bright as lightning flashes outside and a low roll of thunder follows a few moments later. Jack closes his eyes and focuses on the sound of the rain hitting the porch just beyond the window. “Everybody all closed up out of the storm out there?”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex says, pausing to take a sip from his glass. “They went in without any complaint. They must have sensed it coming.”

Jack hums in agreement. Alex grabs Jack’s free hand and brings them up to rest against Jack’s chest. It’s strange, Jack thinks sometimes, how much he’s grown to love the moments of silence with Alex. Growing up, their world had been so loud and busy. He thinks maybe that’s what taught them to so easily find moments of peace with one another. Short moments in venue dressing rooms before they took the stage all around the world and the tour bus back lounge were all they really had. And the buzz of tour never really stops ringing in their ears when they’re out on the road. It’s been a good change though here, that they don’t have so much noise to fight to find moments where they can sit with only the sound of a late summer storm and their own breathing.

It’s nice, Jack thinks, that they’ve really gotten the best of both worlds in that sense. They’re settled down enough that their mothers both still find casual ways to ask about grandchildren at Sunday brunch. But they also still get to go out on the road with Rian and Zack and play loud rock shows to seas of jumping, singing fans. Jack had worried for a while about those two sides coexisting. He’s thankful they’ve managed it so well.

Outside the storm rages on, the wind changing direction and slapping more rain against the window. Every so often, storms like this still set Jack on edge, despite how he’s lived through probably hundreds of them at this point in his life. If the thunder is just a little bit too loud or the lightning too bright, sometimes he swears he can feel the wind shaking the windows. It’s in those moments that Alex will grab his hand like he’s doing now and tap his fingers back and forth against Jack’s knuckles. It’s the same thing he’s done since they were out on Warped Tour at twenty years old, weathering out storms from the bus somewhere in Florida or Chicago. Some things never really change, Jack’s learned over the years.

“We still need to get up early to stop by the farmer’s market for flowers for my parents’ anniversary and that honey your mom wanted,” Alex says as he sits up, signalling for Jack to do the same. He moves to stand and reaches a hand out to Jack. “Want to call it an early night?”

“You read my mind,” Jack says with a yawn as he accepts Alex’s hand.

They wander through the house, hitting light switches as they go and checking to make sure they locked all the doors. The walls they pass are lined with plaques from band things and family photos and art collected over the years. Jack’s always liked how much they have hanging on the walls. He likes that their home tells their story.

They part ways when they make it upstairs to their bedroom, Alex heading for the bathroom and Jack for the closet. Jack changes quickly from the t-shirt he’s been wearing all day into something a bit more soft and worn to sleep in. He wanders back across the room and leans against the doorframe, just watching Alex place his ring into a dish that matches the one downstairs in the kitchen (Rian had bought a matching set because he’s always been the smart one among them) before reaching for his face wash.

Married life isn’t what Jack expected it to be. For most of his life, given the whirlwind that it’s been since they hit the road as teenagers, Jack has never known what to expect with anything. He stopped trying to set expectations for most things a long time ago. He thinks he likes it that way though. He likes not really knowing what comes next. He knows he’ll be happy and he’ll never have to do it alone.

And, as he watches Alex examine the band on his fourth finger missing the rest of the glowy summer tan he gets from hours outside with the horses, he’s pretty sure that’s all that really matters.

*

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 22

Chapter 22 is here. This is number one of the three important chapters. i wrote it a while ago and i edited about 8 times. It's a big chapter (in every sense, almost 7k words) for our two lovebirds.

WARNING: This chapter contains smut not heavy but yeah... hot times... and definitely a wall :)

Aelin and Rowan  finally have their getaway. Oh yes, and there is also a tons of fluff.

Now... I am terrified at the idea of posting this chapter. This is the first time for me writing smut. I have read plenty of it but never written it. So I am panicking, I really hope it's not too cringy because this chapter means a lot and i want it too be good.

I really, really hope you will love this.

As usual, thank you to everyone who so far liked or reblogged my story <3 Love you all.

Rowan sings a song to Aelin and it's this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qfDtTHC8BoY. Please listen to this beauty, and you will understand Aelin's reaction.

We also get to know Malcolm, Aelin's second at the hospital. He is amazing and I love him already. Hope you will too.

Enjoy the chapter.

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

A few months had passed and summer had given way to winter and November had arrived. Aelin had slowly settled into her new job and fell in love with it. It was not as fast paced as London but that was a positive. She had the time to get to know properly all her colleagues and realised they were like a family. It was a small team and she could not believe that they were all getting along. In London with a much, much bigger team she had to deal with constant drama and dislikes. They had welcomed her in the group from day one and that had made everything easier. Malcolm, her second had showed her the ropes in the first few weeks while she was adjusting and since then he had been an amazing support. She had also discovered he preferred men and had a massive crush on Rowan and Aelin still laughed sometimes at the image of when Malcolm saw Rowan for the first time. 

He had walked straight into the A&E glass windows because he was too busy staring at her boyfriend. She and Malcolm had become great friends as well and he was slowly turning into the male and islander version of Lysandra. She was also impressed by the man’s skills. He had served as medical officer in the Navy and he was basically impossible to scare or to disgust. He was incredible in an emergency situation and Aelin loved the way he could keep his head straight. She had also taken under her wing an intern that reminded her a lot of a younger self. Finally after a long time she actually loved again going to work in an hospital and that had made all the difference. Not working in the bookstore felt weird and on a couple of occasions she had spent her days off there with Rowan. Her shifts were not crazy and they could easily see each other, a part from when she was due to work the night shift. But she had realised that somehow their relationship was getting stronger. They began cherishing a bit more the moments they had together. They still hadn’t done the deed but Rowan’s excuse was that if she wanted snow in their getaway they had to wait for winter.

That morning in late November her alarm went off and she slammed it shut quickly. It was Sunday and Rowan was not going to work. She made a move to get out of bed but an arm pinned her down. “Where are you going?” He was sleeping on his belly and his face was smashed in the pillow and his eyes were still closed. “Some of us have to go to work.” He grunted in response. Aelin leaned over and kissed his disheveled silver hair. She tried to move his arm but he pinned her down a bit harder. “Ro…” He grunted again and finally sat up and Aelin smiled. She loved seeing him in the mornings. He was always prime and proper during the day but mornings with his sleepy face and his messy silver hair, were her little treasure. The man was sex on legs even after waking up. “You don’t have to wake up for me.” “I got something for you.” Aelin gave him a questioning look. He smiled and gave her a piece of paper. She opened it and saw a name and dates. “Our getaway. That’s the name of the location and the dates I’d like.” He explained with still a sleepy voice. Aelin heart hammered in her chest. It was in a week. She had to make sure she could get time off. She waited months for this she and had no intention to postpone. “There are quite some cool lodges for holidays.” He smirked and heat polled between her legs. “I’ll make sure I get time off. I’ll beg Malcolm but I’ll have those days off.” “Good.” And he collapsed back in bed. “Go back to sleep.” She kissed him and left for a shower. A big grin on her face. Finally.

Aelin in the end had managed to get time off. Malcolm had offered to take her shifts after she had explained why she needed the time off. As a thank you she had offered to work two of his weekends and the man was even happier. Aelin and Rowan were now in the car toward their destination. They had taken the first ferry of the morning and were now back on the mainland. During the night it had snowed a lot and that’s why Rowan was at the wheel. Aelin had found an amazing cottage for a wonderful price. Being low season and all. They got a lodge in an isolated location with quite some luxuries. One of them was a working fireplace in their room. They had a massive kitchen according to the pictures but most of all, she was excited to try the small pool. Yes, in the back on the cottage there was a room with a small heated pool, with a floor to ceiling window. She had some plans already on how to use that room. They arrived an hour later. The place was near Lochinver. The town was covered in snow and Aelin was excited. They stopped in the village for food and then set off again. Once they arrived at their lodge Rowan complimented Aelin for the choice. There was nothing around them but woods and it felt like the perfect place, just like they had agreed. Aelin got off the car and was glad Rowan had convinced her about getting proper winter clothes. It was cold and she was looking forward to spend the four days in bed with him or cozying up in front of the fire. If they never left the lodge for nothing but food she would be happy. That’s all she needed. They took their luggage and entered the house and Aelin’s mouth fell open in surprise once she was inside. The place looked even better than the photos and everything was in wood. The bed looked like the ooziest place on Earth with thick fluffy blankets. “I love it.” Said Rowan stopping behind her and dropping his bags “You have good taste, Fireheart.” Aelin removed her shoes and ran to see the pool room. Once she got there she stopped “Rowan.” She shouted for his attention. He was at her side a moment later. “I have so many naughty ideas that you can’t imagine, Buzzard.” Rowan laughed and held her close “We’ll make sure to cover them all.” A soft kiss “Thank you for this. It’s the perfect birthday present.” She looked sternly in his eyes “No more hesitations.” Her finger wiggling in his face “This is our romantic getaway. We have snow and nature. All the conditions have been met. You promised.” He kissed her deeply and lifted her in his arms “I promised.”

They spent the afternoon outside. Aelin had convinced Rowan to do a snowman that now lived in front of their cottage. He took her out walking and they went for a very late lunch at the pie place in Lochinver. Eventually they got back to their accommodation and in the end they had a quiet afternoon and evening. Rowan had moved the big comfy chair in front of the window. She sat in his lap and they read for the rest of the day, watching the snow fall. Rowan was tired from the driving, he had done it before but the heavy snow made driving more challenging. so they had decided to relax as much as possible. It was later on that they decided to call it a night and Aelin smiled wickedly. She grabbed something from her suitcase and ran for the bathroom, locking the door. When she came out she noticed that Rowan was already in bed, reading. He finally noticed her and she loved his stunned face. She was wearing the most outrageous nightgown she had been able to find. It was black and lacy and covering very little of her body. Underneath she was wearing a flimsy lacy pair of lingerie leaving very little to the imagination. He had seen her naked already but she enjoyed the reaction. “What is that?” “Oh, I left Cookie Monster at home.” She said leaning sensually against the wall and she saw him straighten his back. “I thought this was more appropriate for the occasion.” Rowan got off the bed an in a couple of steps he was in front of her, staring down at her. She cupped his face and he covered her hand with his. For a moment it seemed like he was having an internal debate on what to do. Then in a swift motion he lifted her and he stopped in front of the fire and kissed her with a passion that sent Aelin reeling. “In front of a fire… is one my fantasies…” he told her in her ear. Aelin did not waste time and pulled him down on the plush carpet. The fireplace had a protective screen to prevent fire sparks to escape. In a house that was entirely made of wood, a fire would be a disaster. “Nice and toasty down here.” He hovered above her and her arms went around his neck. She pulled harder but he stayed where he was. “Patience. I am going to savour each minute of this night. I will not rush into this.” Aelin almost begged him. She didn’t want to wait. She needed him. But Rowan definitely had different plans. He gently lowered his body on hers making sure his weight was not crushing her. His hands trailed along her arms stopping at her wrists and pushing then her arms above her head. His mouth slanted on hers and with a keen tug of his mouth she opened for him. At the same time his hands began trailing back down again following her shapes and pausing at her hips. Rowan grabbed the hem of the nightgown and started lifting very slowly, taking great care in kissing every single bit of skin exposed. Aelin was on fire. She arched her back and moaned and the ache between her legs increased. He was barely touching her and she was ready to crack. The nightgown disappeared beyond her “For as much as I loved that nightgown of yours, I still prefer you naked.” And his mouth closed on one nipple, sucking, nibbling while the other hand was playing with the other one. Aelin shook and moved her hips to grind against him but he blocked her with his weight. She felt him hard against her and her hands landed on his back and nails definitely left marks. His tongue was doing devilishly things to her now hard peak and she pulled him even closer, inflicting more marks on his back. She squeezed her legs as she felt wetness spread and he had barely started. Oh, that wicked tongue of his was doing wonderful things and she imagined the same motions between her legs. The mere thought of his mouth on her was enough to make her moan. Gods, she was going to combust very soon. He lifted his gaze and stared at her. While never averting her stare he flicked her nipple with the tongue and in that instant one hand landed between her legs. Tempting, teasing, exploring. “Hmmm…” he had probably felt how ready she was. His mouth began its journey downward, kissing and licking and stopped at the band of her underwear. A black lacy piece of garment that covered very little. Teeth slowly lowered the garment “Lift.” She lifted her bum and allowed him to remove the piece of fabric. She was now bare in front of him. They had seen each other naked and they had explored each other bodies, but for some reason it still felt new. “You are stunning.” He breathed. His mouth landed on her inner thigh and from there he trailed down to her knee. He kissed the back of it and began his journey back with his tongue. The whole thing was mirrored on her other leg and Aelin almost whimpered. She placed her legs on his shoulder and he smiled as she spread her legs even more. He looked up to Aelin and saw her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open. His face disappeared between her legs “So, so, needy for me.” He whispered against her centre. Her hips rolled in an invitation but his hands pinned her down. “I will take,” a kiss at the edge of her folds “my time,” a mirror kiss on the other side “one kiss,” his thumb repeated the motion “at a time.” The thumb followed the same path as the mouth. His tongue finally took a long lick of her and Aelin screamed at the feeling. Lick after lick she started saying his name like a prayer and she had no idea how much longer she could resist before she was going to shatter under his ministrations. “Ro —“ she could not finished the thought. One of his finger slid into her and his tongue hit again that one magic spot and another loud moan left her. A second finger slid in and Aelin screamed as he hooked them inside her, brushing that deep secret corner of hers. Gods the man had skills. The moan that escaped from her almost undid him. “Rowan, please—“ she begged him arching her hips to grind against his fingers. His thumb replaced his tongue at her apex and she was now whimpering, the sensation becoming almost too much to bear. His fingers were now pumping hard in and out of her and Aelin was glad they had no neighbours. Her body jerked and he felt her core tighten around him and he knew she was near. His pace picked up a bit more, tongue and fingers dancing to bring her pleasure. “Gods, Ro I—” and the world exploded around Aelin. Fire spread through her body, up her spine, down her legs as they jerked, shaken by the powerful climax he dragged out of her. She kept repeating his name in a whisper as her hips rocked riding her high until there was nothing left of her but a limp mess on the carpet. Her eyes closed and an expression of pure bliss on her face. Once he was satisfied he sat back on his haunches between her legs and when she caught his eyes he brought his fingers to his mouth and slowly licked them clean in a gesture that almost gave Aelin another orgasm. “Damn it Whitethorn, get down here and kiss me.” She was breathless and she was not sure her cognitive functions were fully back yet. “I love how you look right now.” She grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss and tasted herself on his lips “I think I have scratched you back.” “I don’t care,” he said softly kissing her neck “I’ll bare my scars with honour.” His hands sneaked under her shoulders and grabbed the side of her face kissing her gently. Aelin’s arms wound around his back again. He went back kissing her and his hips started rolling against her in a suggestive motion. He needed her badly. He wanted to claim her in the most intimate and wonderful of ways. “Why you are not naked yet, Whitethorn?” He smiled against her neck “I was otherwise occupied.” He pulled back and stood, finally removing his clothes one at a time with intended slowness. He was now standing towering over her all naked and she thought she could never tire of the view. She noticed his hardness and her mouth went dry at the view. He was magnificent. As a provocation she put her hand between her legs and could not believe that she was still so ready for him. “I don’t think so.” He kneeled and picked her up and once in his arms she wrapped around him. “Someone requested a wall, if I remember correctly.” His voice a mere whisper against her ear. She looked in his eyes and she had a feeling his control was hanging by a tether. The lust and desire in his them were enough to reignite the fire in her. While walking to a free side of the wall her hand slid between them and she grabbed him but he growled and slammed her back against the wardrobe “Stop it or we’ll never make it to the wall.” She teased him again and a moment later she felt her back slam against the wall, his hand behind her head in protection. His mouth was hard against hers. Another gentle brush of his tip with her thumb and his hips slammed into her “Fuck, Aelin.” She knew he had lost it as she had never heard him swear or even curse very mildly. Her hands trailed from his back and with a gentle caress she brushed his wide shoulders. She wanted to kiss every centimetre of his body. She slid down slightly until she felt his tip nudge her entrance and in response she angled her hips just enough to allow him easier access. Rowan groaned, burying his face in her neck and with gentle rolling thrusts he finally slid into her. She heard him mutter something in Gaelic and his mouth almost bit her on the neck. “Gods, Aelin this is—“ but he did not finished the sentence as he slid into her again with a bit more force this time. Rowan moaned. She felt perfect around him. She rolled her hips once again and Rowan pulled out and his thrusts became a bit harder. Aelin’s nails left more marks on his beautiful skin. He pulled out again and thrusted in once more adding again more force. He repeated the motion a few more times and Aelin pushed her hips forward to increase the contact with him. “I dreamed about this for a while. How it would feel to finally join with you.” His accent now thick once again and she desperately searched for his mouth. His hand gripped her butt so tight she will probably have bruises the next day but she could not care. His rhythm picked up and Aelin could feel her release building up in her core once again and she heard herself moan savagely as one of his thrusts hit her most sensitive spots. She was about to give in to another earth shattering orgasm when she noticed he was nowhere near close to his climax. Damn, the man was not joking when he said he had stamina. “Tha gaol agam ort.” he whispered to her, kissing her neck “Tha gaol agam ort.” he repeated it like a prayer. One of his fingers dipped between her legs and Aelin’s legs tightened around his back and this time she screamed as her climax built up to a point she knew she was going to combust in his arms. And when his mouth found her again and his tongue did devilish things to her, her release finally exploded and rippled through her body, shattering her. And as the savage release wrecked havoc in her body, she lost recollection of time and place and of her own name. The wild climax spread to her back and down to her toes making them tingle in pleasure. And when she felt like she could finally melt in his arms, she realised he was not done yet. His rhythm had picked up once more and she almost whimpered when she felt another orgasm built up pretty quickly right after the other one. “Shit, Rowan I—” and her mouth closed on his skin to muffle the scream that broke free from her while she reached her high a third time. Rowan grunted and his hand cupped her butt harder and finally, in one final powerful thrust he reached as well his release. His hips rocked until he was spent and Aelin went limp against him her chest rising up and down in a desperate need for oxygen. She heard him pant as well and for a moment, neither of them tried to move, him still deeply seated in her. He took a big gulp of air and then kissed her shoulder and then her mouth until his forehead rested against hers, his eyes now on hers. He was breathing hard. Aelin’s hands cupped his face “You look exhausted.” She kissed him gently. He shook his head “I am just—” another gulp of hair “I never felt like this before.” He pulled her closer into an embrace and pulled away from the wall. Slowly, his legs still shaking, he walked back to the bed and with gentleness he deposited her on it and leaned forward for a kiss. She pulled him down to her and once he was at her side she nestled against him. “ 's ann leatsa a tha mo chridhe gu brath” a shy kiss on her cheek “You said something similar at Callanish.” He shook his head “same thing.” “What does it mean?” Her hand splayed on his chest. “My heart is yours forever.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “Did you forgot your name?” His voice was soft and his accent still so very thick. “I did,” she chuckled. “I love your accent just now and while we were busy. It gets thick and it’s very sexy.” He nibbled at her ear and muttered something unintelligible in what she knew it was Gaelic. It was a song. He was definitely humming something. “What is it?” “S mi fo bhròn 's tu gam dhìth. Ged nach eil sinn fhathast pòsd’. Tha mi'n dòchas gum bi. Fhad' 's a mhaireas mo dhà dhòrn, Cha bhith lòn oirnn a dhìth.” Aelin’s eyes almost welled with tears. She caressed his face and he closed his eyes. “That was beautiful. Whatever it was it was…” he kissed her. “I am sorrowful without your company, although we are not married, I hope we will be. As long as I have my two hands, we will want for nothing.” He translated for her and then kissed her “The song is called Fair love of my heart. It’s the story of a lonely man and his tale about this woman he loves who then tells him her destiny is with him.” “I love you.” Her face leaned on his chest on his heart “I love you so much that sometimes it hurts.” Her hand twined in his. His arms went around her and he pulled Aelin on top of him. She smirked at him and kissed his mouth, dragging her tongue across his lips. Then her hand slipped down between his legs and she loved his expression morph into pleasure as she stroked him gently. With a couple of stroked of her hands he was almost hard again and Aelin appreciate the luck of having a man with stamina. “I guess is my turn now…” Her tongue trailed along his chest and disappeared under the thick blanket he had draped on top of them. “Aelin you—“ Rowan’s back arched and closed his eyes at the first feeling of her mouth on him.

When Aelin woke up she had the biggest smile on her face. She turned her head and noticed Rowan at her side. His arms as usual over her in a protective gesture. They were both still naked. They had fallen asleep not long after their lovemaking and clothes had been forgotten. The blankets were still at the bottom of the bed and she was freezing. The fire had died out and the heating hand’t gone on just yet. She grabbed the duvet and hid under them snuggling against Rowan. He was always warm. “Morning,” he told her kissing her deeply. She grinned back at him. “I love you,” he whispered and she kissed his nose. “I am cold.” Rowan laughed and got out of bed to switch on the heating. Then he looked at the clock and realised it was past nine in the morning. “I think we need breakfast.” He had said simply, as if he cooked naked every day. Aelin pulled herself up on her elbows and stared at him dreamingly as he gave his back to her. His glorious back side was rock hard and she had a mad desire to bite it, while caressing that wonderful broad back of his. Even just looking at his naked body was enough for heat to pool between her legs. Her mind went to what she did to him under the blankets or to their adventure against the wall and she almost moaned. “Are you okay?” He asked, half turning while preparing their breakfast. “Nothing.” She cleared her voice in hopefully a subtle way. She landed back on the bed and covered herself with the duvet. One hand went between her legs and she discovered she was super wet again. “Fuck.” She whispered. “What are you doing under the blankets like that?” And light hit her when she noticed he had pulled the duvet from over her and when Aelin looked up his eyes were wide and locked on her hand and what she was doing. “I… You…” her mouth could not form a proper sentence “It’s your fault, you walk around naked.” He laughed and lowered on her and kissed her hard and a hand joined hers. Aelin was about to remove hers “No, keep it there.” He said instead. His hand covered hers and they moved together until Aelin felt an orgasm rise very quickly. He moved faster until release came and he muffled her scream with a kiss. “Food is almost ready.” Was all he said as if nothing had happened and walked back to the kitchen. He came back a moment later with a bed tray and placed it on her lap. Then he did the same for him and sat down beside her. “Never had a sexy breakfast in bed before.” She took a bite of the food and she realised she was starving. “What, police guy never made you post sex breakfast?” He asked while drinking his coffee. Aelin scoffed “I am just realising that we didn’t have the most exciting sex life.” She confessed biting a piece of bacon “Maybe I really was the one who drove him to cheat on me. I have been asking myself if I actually really loved him. If I stayed with him just because it was easy.” She sighed and Rowan grabbed her hand without interrupting her “Before it went downhill he was a good man. And I guess I felt something, but now with hindsight, comparing it to what I feel for you, I realise that I never felt anything ever so powerful for Chaol.” She put her fork down “He was horrible in the end. It hurt. But I think I stopped caring for him before I served him with the divorce papers.” Rowan pulled her to his shoulder and kissed her head. “Sorry,” she apologised “We just had a wonderful morning and I am ruining everything by moping on my failed marriage.” Once they were done, Rowan took the trays with empty plates and placed them on the floor, then grabbed Aelin and he pulled her down in bed, her face to him and covered them both, cuddling tenderly. “Lyria and I probably had just one year of true happiness.” He confessed “Then talks of the Olympics started and I knew that all of a sudden she was more interested to be with me because of who I was. But I still felt something for her. I proposed like a fool, but some of my friends had told me it was a bad idea. After the accident I knew she was bored of me. But I ignored the signs I just kept her with me.” He kissed her forehead “We both had relationships that failed. Horribly.” He grabbed her hand and dragged it to his chest “But now all of that doesn’t matter anymore. We, you and I, matter now.” Aelin nodded. “Just you and I.” Then in a swift motion Aelin got off the bed and pulled the covers at the bottom of the bed. She had enough of moping and sad stories. They were there to have fun. “What are you doing, you menace?” “Remember the pool?… fancy some post breakfast swim?” She stared at him and sensually brushed her hand on her abdomen, while a finger almost reached between her legs. She definitely had his attention now. Rowan stood and a moment later she was in his arms, being carried bridal style. He walked with purpose to the back of their cottage where there was a small pool. The pool was slightly larger as Rowan was tall and probably over a meter and a half deep but she would take it. Rowan climbed down the steps and entered the water with her still in his arms. She climbed down and realised the water was warm and it felt spectacular on her body. She submerged and saw Rowan do the same. When she came up for air he was on his knees in front of her. He then moved to the side of the pool that was slanted allowing people to lean in the massive tub. Aelin stood and with her naked dripping body and walked until she stopped in front of him. She removed the band from her hair and undid the braid, shaking her head to free it. Rowan stared up at her and his stare turned predatory and when she looked down she noticed he was ready for her. She sat down and straddled him, her thighs just below his length. She leaned forward and nibbled at his lips and he moaned lightly. Aelin grabbed him in in her hand and Rowan gasped hard. Once she was sure he was really ready for her, Aelin fully straddled him and lowered on him with maddening slowness. He closed his eyes and his hands went to her hips. Half way through Aelin pulled up and she heard him growl and at that sound she seated hard on him, taking him all in, in one swift motion. “Aelin—“ but her mouth was on his before he could finish the sentence. “Pool sex, another one my fantasies…” she licked his neck and Rowan grabbed her hips harder and let her set the pace this time.

It was over an hour later when they were again a breathless mess in each other’s arms. The first time had been hard and fast, but the second time they had taken their time and it had been much gentler. So slow that he made her come four times. Rowan sat and she took her place between his legs and cuddled while watching the snow falling outside. They remained in the pool a little longer enjoying the view. Then Rowan pulled her out of the water. Aelin went back to the room and it dawned on her that it was late afternoon and they really had spent the whole day making love and in each other’s arms. They had dried themselves and she grabbed her nightgown still scattered on the floor but Rowan stopped her. “No clothes allowed.” He kissed her. “Who am I to complain?” And she threw the garment back on the floor with the rest of their clothing. “We can have a late lunch if you are hungry.” She gently bit his shoulder while her hand cupped his butt “Hungry for you, always.” He laughed and went to the kitchen. “I was not joking, Buzzard.” She sat on the bench near the table crossed her legs and pushed her chest out “We should be naked at home as well.” He had his head buried in the fridge and turned to her “If we do that we risk never leaving the house ever again and we both have jobs.” “Spoilsport.” She stood and walked around the room swaying her hips. “You really are a menace.” An hour later Rowan had managed to put together a meal and they finally sat on the bench at the table. Aelin’s legs extended on his. In response to the provocation, Rowan had decided to eat his meal with one hand since the other one had been buried between Aelin’s legs. Once she was done eating she lowered her legs at each side of the bench opening for him. “Are you going to do something or not?” She teased him. Rowan accepted the challenge and ten minutes later Aelin lay on the bench breathless and with his name on her lips. Once they were done, and Aelin recovered she stood and cleared the dishes from the table then went back to him. She climbed on the table and sat down in front of him, her legs on both side of him. She spread them wide and leaned backwards a bit. She licked one of her fingers and briefly touched herself knowing he will enjoy the sight. “Wicked, wicked woman.” He stood and in a second his finger was in her “I guess I can have dessert tonight.” A second later Rowan had gripped her and flipped her on her stomach and bent her over the table. He had feasted on her and after that he had taken her from behind and Aelin was again very glad they had no neighbours.

By they time they got back to their bed Aelin was exhausted. “I think we will need a holiday to recover from this holiday.” She leaned back against Rowan’s chest and grabbed her book. Eventually they had decided to take a break and relax with some reading. “Hm.” Said Rowan who was all intent on reading his book. One hand up to eye level holding the book, the other in her hair, playing with it “You should have dried your hair better.” He said in his usual protective tone, and then went back to his book.

When Aelin woke up the next morning she felt like death. She had a splitting headache and was shivering from the cold. She snuggled as much as possible against Rowan and groaned in pain. “Hey,” he said when he felt her shiver. “I am so cold.” “The heating is on. I put it on a timer.” He drew her closer and noticed that Aelin was uncharacteristically warm. His mouth was on her forehead and he felt she was burning. “You are running a fever.” He got up and went to the bathroom to see if they had a medicine cupboard. Quickly he grabbed his clothes and got dressed, and raised the heating a notch. A moment later he sat on the bed beside her “I am going to the village to the pharmacy.” “I am fine…” she croaked. “You are not fine.” He kissed her forehead. “Be careful, please. The snow.” “I will be very careful.” He left and Aelin buried herself under the blankets.

Rowan was back a while later from his trip to the pharmacy and found Aelin hiding and shivering under the duvet. “Hey,” he pulled the blankets back and noticed she was still naked. He swore and ran to her suitcase to see if he could find clothes more useful than her flimsy nightgown. He sighed relieved when he found her Cookie Monster pyjama. “Aelin,” she groaned in reply. He pulled her up to a seated position and started pulling clothes back on her. Once she was ready he put her down again and covered her. He removed his winter clothes and got back to his more comfortable house slacks and then began looking after her. He had bought a thermometer and first of all checked her temperature and his worry increased when the digital screen told him 39C. He took the medicines and followed the instructions the pharmacist had given him. He placed a wet towel on her forehead. “Aelin,” “Hmm.” “I need you to take these. They will help to lower the fever.” Gently he helped her sit up a bit and she took the pills and then the water he offered. “Good.” Once she was lying down again he went to plan two. He filled one of his water bottles and placed on her bedside table so that she could drink as much as possible, then went back to the kitchen and started making soup. Carrot and coriander was light and easy and he knew Aelin loved it. An hour later the soup was ready and exactly as she liked it. He poured the contents in a bowl and walked the the bed and placed it on the nightstand. “Can you eat something for me? I made you soup.” “Which one?” She muttered, eyes half open. “Carrot and coriander.” “My favourite.” “I know.” He smiled and then grabbed his pillow and helped her sit up. “Everything hurts…” she complained. “You have a high fever. It’s normal.” He set the wet towel aside for now and kissed her forehead. Then sat in front of her and grabbed the bowl. He tasted a spoonful to check whether it was too hot. “Come on.” She complained that she could feed herself but he was in full fussing mode and there was no way to deter him and she had no strength to fight him. Spoon by spoon she ate the full bowl and Rowan smiled proudly. Once he was done he helped her again to lie down and tucked her in. Finally he moved the big chair near her side. He grabbed a book and plopped down, stretching his legs on the bed. With one hand he held the book, with the other he held her hand. He stared at her until she fell asleep then went back to his books.

Aelin woke up later in the evening. She turned and was disappointed in finding the other side of the bed empty. She sat up and noticed Rowan still on the chair at her side. He was sleeping and had a book on his lap. Then her gaze turned to the nightstand and noticed a thermometer and pills and she remembered. She had waken up with a savage fever and he had looked after her. She felt a bit better but the dull headache was still there and some aches as well. She took her temperature and noticed it was still in the low 38C. She took more medicines then her stomach growled. She was starving. With shaky legs she left the bed and noticed she had Cookie Monster pyjama on. She smiled. Then grabbed Rowan’s hoodie and put it on as well and went to the kitchen. She grabbed some bread to be toasted and went to the fridge for her jam and grabbed as well the large bottle of orange juice that Rowan must have bought. Caffeine was definitely a bad idea. She was eating happily when she heard Rowan approaching. “Aelin?” “Kitchen.” She said. “What are you doing out of bed?” He sat on the bench beside her. “I was starving.” “You could have woken me up.” He brushed her hair with his hand and touched her forehead “You are still warm.” “I know. But I need food.” “Go back to bed and I will bring it to you.” Fine, let him fuss. He was so adorable. Five minutes later he was carrying a tray with a plate with a few slices of bread with jam, a couple of his oatmeal biscuits and orange juice. Aelin protested at the biscuits but he said that she had to eat light and her ones were not approved yet. “Too much time outside in the snow, then the pool and then you did not dry your hair properly. That’s what you get.” And kissed her nose tenderly. “I ruined our getaway.” “No, you didn’t.” He smiled “At least you got sick after.” And he laughed. They spent the rest of the day in bed, then they had taken a warm bath together but Rowan was adamant in avoiding any illicit activity. And then he was the one who dried her hair complaining that she did a bad job the day before and got ill. That night they sat in the big chair, Aelin on his lap and a thick blanket around them and watched outside the window. Rowan’s app alerted him of a possibility of Northern Lights and the sky was clear. They had switched off all the lights in the cottage and were now waiting patiently. She was about to fall asleep when Rowan nudged her and pointed at the window. Aelin gasped in amazement and snuggled closer to him. Together and in silence they held each other and stared at the magnificent show outside.

Two days later it was time to go back home and Aelin was sad. Their getaway had been perfect. Even with her illness they had a wonderful time. “We just have to come back.” He said kissing her cheek. “Thank you for taking care of me.” “I will always take care of you.” They locked the door behind. Returned the keys and got back in their car. And home they went. To their adventure.

[mordoriscalling]

Stay or Sail Away (1/6)

Here comes part one the modern AU fake dating Geraskier fic that I talked about in this post. I’d like to post each part daily. Tagging @geraskier-trashh as requested! :D

***

It’s not that Jaskier has any problem finding someone, thank you very much. It’s just that he’s busy. Busy with concerts and composing, meeting fans at various events, travelling, internet dramas involving Valdo (it’s always fucking Valdo). There’s no time for a relationship, only for occasional one night stands that sometimes that leave him heartbroken because he actually manages to fall in love with someone in the span of a few hours. It’s fine, though. Heartbreak inspires him like little else.

Jaskier's never complained about lack of bed partners, when he seeks them out. He’s charming, after all. Still, the moment he hears “commitment”, he flees. It’s just not his way. Or perhaps he’s never found anyone fascinating enough to commit to; it takes a lot to keep his attention.  He wasn’t even looking for someone like that. Not until recently.

His troubles began a week ago, during a phone call with his mum. She reminded him of his father’s 65th birthday party and asked if he would bring anyone with him. This was followed by a series of questions about his love life because, as his mum put it, “you’re 35, Julian darling, and you’re always working so hard! I worry you’ll end up alone”. In order to placate her, Jaskier might’ve lied a little tiny bit about some things. As a result, because of all the twists and turns of the conversation, he made his mother believe he had a fiancé.

A fucking fiancé.

Wanda Pankratz was ecstatic, wishing to know everything about her son’s relationship, but he dodged all the further questions by saying that she would meet his love soon enough. She left it at that but, of course, told half the family about it, if the texts and calls from his sisters and aunts were anything to go by.

Hence, The Post.

It’s a bit pathetic and desperate, Jaskier can freely admit, but he has no other choice. His personal guard Zoltan almost pissed himself laughing when Jaskier asked him to pretend to be his fiancé, and not one of his friends knows anyone who would want to do this. Not even his agent Triss could help him out.

It all drove Jaskier to log on his anonymous Facebook account (he is a pretty big name in the UK; better be safe than sorry) and post in one of the big London groups.

“I need urgent help from someone who’d be willing to act as my fiancé during a family party on February the 24th. The only thing I expect is the ability to sing praises of our love and to compliment my aunts. It’ll take around 4 hours and then we end our relationship. Age from 35 to 40. It’d be great if you knew something about the sea because I intend to introduce you as a sailor who’s never home and afterwards, you die. Can anybody help?”

Since yesterday, the post has got more than a thousand reactions (mostly the laughing one and likes) and hundreds of comments. Many people tagged their friends as a joke, which is not helpful, but Jaskier still scrolls down and down, trying not to let his hope die. Nobody seems to think his request is for real and he’s received no serious offers so far. Then, one of the newest comment threads catches his attention.

Lambert Rivia:    Geralt Rivia Destiny!

                              Geralt Rivia Fuck off

                              Yennefer Vengeberg Omg 😂 Cirilla Vengeberg-Rivia Eskel Rivia you must see this!

                              Cirilla Vengeberg-Rivia Yesssss!! This is perfect! ❤️

                              Eskel Rvia Do it Geralt

                              Geralt Rivia No.

Intrigued, Jaskier decides to check out these people’s profiles. Lambert Rivia is a handsome red-haired man who wears some kind of black military suit in his profile picture. Looking at his bio, Jaskier already knows why Lambert didn’t volunteer himself – he’s in a relationship. Eskel Rivia is blond, even more handsome than Lambert despite facial scars, and also has a photo in a black suit, together with a white cap on his head. There’s no information on Eskel’s relationship status and Jaskier is intrigued indeed. Yennefer Vengeberg is a terrifyingly beautiful woman who, judging how professional her profile picture appears, must work in some serious profession. Cirilla Vengerberg-Rivia is a lovely teenage girl with white-blond hair. Jaskier reckons she’s the daughter of Yennefer and one of the Rivia guys.

He left the poor Geralt’s profile as the last to look at, but now that Jaskier has seen the rest, he checks this one too.

His jaw fucking drops.

Geralt Rivia is a ridiculously handsome man. His face seems practically unreal because, surely, people as beautiful as Geralt don’t actually exist? The man’s long white hair (which makes no sense considering his apparent age), as well as his brown-almost-golden eyes, only add to his otherwordly, stunning appearance. Double stunning in that black military suit he’s wearing in his profile picture, just like Lambert and Eskel. The suit looks familiar and Jaskier has a nagging feeling he really should know what kind of army it is. Google helps him out and he quickly puts two to two – Geralt, Eskel and Lambert serve for the Royal Navy.

He bursts out laughing.

This is too good.

He wonders what he should to about this. Now that he knows about Geralt’s existence, he can’t really miss the chance of meeting him, however slim. His gut feeling tells him not to let the opportunity slip and well, who is Jaskier not to listen?

When he’s in the middle of debating what to write to the man, his phone pings. There’s a new messenger notification... with Geralt’s name. With a racing heart, Jaskier opens the message.

FEB THE 18TH AT 06:14 PM Hey. Everyone’s telling me to message you and won’t leave me alone. Is your request for real? Please say no

Jaskier chuckles and replies:

Hi! I’m sorry they’re bothering you and I’m also sorry to say that my request is very much for real. I’d be forever grateful if you helped me 😁

To this, Geralt responds with:

They really won’t stop until I agree They think it’s so fucking funny

Jaskier purses his lips, already suspecting this isn’t likely to work out. He'll have to face his loving mum and admit that he lied to her about fucking having a fiancé. She’s going to be so disappointed. At the very prospect, bad mood overtakes him, but he still types what he hopes to be a cheerful answer.

Damn, so sorry mate I won’t push you but, again, I’d totally owe you one if you agree  ☺️

What would I get?

Jaskier tries to reason with his hope to calm the fuck down and replies:

Money, or a favour of some sort, I have many connections Could be free tickets to my concerts  Even my company for the night 😏 Just whatever you want I really need help

Fuck

For a minute or two, the three dots next to Geralt’s photo disappear, and Jaskier’s hope plummets in a  dramatic fashion. Then, more messages from Geralt show up in the chat.

Free tickets seem fine My daughter loves going to concerts She’d like free tickets but I never heard of you

Jaskier starts begging any god out there that Cirilla is Geralt’s daughter. Teenagers make up a large part of his audience (which is great, actually; teenage kids are amazing these days). If she’s a fan, the free tickets are a major bargaining chip.

Well, Julian AP isn’t my stage name I don’t use it on fb

What is it? Your stage name

I’d rather not say here And you must promise me you won’t tell anyone about it too Well, anyone but your daughter

Ok

 Can you call me? It’s better to talk about this on the phone anyway

Fine.

Jaskier sends Geralt his number and waits for the call. In other circumstances, he’d congratulate himself on getting a man like that to call him so easily, but he’s too anxious. His hands itch for his guitar but he doesn’t get up from his bed. He begins smoothing his hair out with his palms, praying in his mind that Geralt hasn’t changed his mind.

After the agonizing wait of six minutes, there’s an incoming call. Jaskier takes a deep breath and picks up.

“Hello,” says a gravelly baritone voice so pleasant that it sends shivers down Jaskier’s spine.

“Uhm, h-hi, Geralt,” he replies a bit breathlessly, “so, my name’s Julian Alfred Pankratz but I’m known to many as Jaskier.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Jaskier?” Geralt repeats, “the one who sings Her Sweet Kiss?”

Jaskier beams, his chest swelling with pride. “The very same.”

“Fuck,” Geralt growls, “Ciri wants to blast this song whenever we drive somewhere.”

Jaskier laughs. “She would love free tickets to my concerts, wouldn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

Geralt says no more. Jaskier has to swallow down to sop his throat from constricting. “So?” he asks, “Can you do this for me?”

The silence on the other side is deafening and Jaskier doesn’t even breathe until Geralt finally speaks up. “Fine,” he grunts, his tone indicating it’s anything but fine.

Air leaves Jaskier’s lungs in a whoosh, replaced by a flood of such sheer relief that he may as well cry. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he babbles, heady with joy, “Gosh, you’re my saviour!”

“Just don’t tell anyone about this,” Geralt grumbles.

“Not a soul, Geralt, not a soul.”

“Send me the details about when and where and let’s get this over w–”

“No, wait!” Jaskier cuts in, “My family’s very perceptive, they’ll know it’s a ruse. We should plan everything carefully.”

“You’re making me regret this,” Gerlt growls.

“I’m sorry!” Jaskier hastens to say. “Just... at least tell me a bit about yourself?”

Geralt lets out an irritated sigh. “I’m forty, serve for the Royal Navy with my brothers. Eskel’s the nice one and Lambert’s the prick. My ex-wife Yennefer works for the government.” Jaskier actually shudders at this one because he already can picture it. Yennefer seems exactly powerful like that. “We have a daughter,” Geralt goes on, his tone softening, “Ciri. She’s fourteen. We live in London but I’m away often.”

“Oh, lovely,” Jaskier says with a wide smile because, really, this man’s love for his daughter is so clear and endearing, “this is something we can start with.”

“Just make everything up about our relationship and send it to me. I’ll play along.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out, still amazed at his luck. Jaskier is almost high on the success of his ingenious scheme and his obligations are therefore non-existent, so nothing stops him from teasing Geralt. “Though, to be completely honest," he says cheekily, "you don’t strike me as the type to sing praises of our love and compliment my aunts.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replies. It doesn’t sound like a negation. “Yen says I’m not that bad if I try.”

The fondness with which he said Yennefer’s name is a cold bucket of water poured on his enthusiasm. “O-oh, ok,” he stutters out, thrown off-track, “So, uhm, would you be willing to try for me?”

For a moment, Geralt says nothing, then answers, “If you give Ciri an autograph.”

Jaskier laughs out loud. “Not a problem at all! Whatever she wants.” He pauses. “Whatever you want,” he adds more seriously.  

Geralt only hmms, in a way that Jaskier’s prone-to-romanticism mind would almost call warm. Silence falls between them but it doesn’t feel awkward somehow. “Have to go,” Geralt says.

“Okay,” Jaskier replies quietly, “Thank you again. I’ll text you, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

After Geralt hangs up, Jaskier huffs out a shaky breath. Deep down, he already knows.

This is going to mess him up.

TBC

Part 2

[blazerina]

Surprise (Ethan x MC)

Surprise (Ethan x MC)

Word Count: 4,962 (omg that’s a lot)

Author’s Note: Okay so this is my “mature Ethan & Allie AU” where they’re already married and have been together for a little while. It eludes to some of my other Ethan & Allie stories a little bit and sets the scene for another more angsty Ethan & Allie story I plan to write soon.  I had no idea how to end this so I’m sorry if the ending stinks. Hope this brings some joy to you as you read it – thank you to all of you for your support and encouragement regarding my stories.

**This story is dedicated to @noboundariesplease who became my 800th follower a few weeks ago!!**

@parkerattano @justanotherrookie @mrswalkerwritesagain – thanks for being my fandom besties!

A few of you asked to be tagged when I posted this story so here you go:

@unusualvisionsblog @itstaygs @ethandaddyramsey @x-kyne-x @flyawayboo

Some of you liked my message about this story coming soon so I thought I’d tag you too – hope that’s okay: @queencarb @schnitzelbutterfinger @liam-kostas-wife  @keepcreative @lion-ess24 @lifeof-liv @rookieinbflat @imonlyalittledeadinside @desmaranj @havenofearoficecoldbeer

Love and hugs peace to all of you!! xoxo

--

Ding dong.

The echo of the doorbell rang out among the small, empty foyer of the two-story home that Ethan and Allie shared, just outside of Boston.  Allie was in the master bathroom, her hair in large rollers, putting the finishing touches on her makeup; mascara wand in hand.

Waiting a moment to hear if Ethan opened the door, Allie let out a sigh and rested her hand on the edge of the counter in exasperation.

“Ethan? You gonna get that?!” She hollered.

The doorbell rang again at the same moment Allie went back to applying her mascara.

“Ethan!” She yelled again, tightening the belt on her robe.

Ethan’s head popped into view behind her in the mirror. Leaning in from the doorway with the phone glued to his ear, he silently mouthed the words I’m on the phone.

Rolling her eyes, Allie put the mascara down and went quickly to the door.  A delivery man was standing on the doorstep, holding a basket full of cookies, with several colorful balloons attached.

After signing for the package and offering her thanks, Allie went immediately to the kitchen. Ethan was sitting at the table, still on the phone, looking out the window into their backyard.

“For you…” Allie smiled, placing the basket in front of him as he turned around.  

He rolled his eyes and looked for a card.  After reading it quickly, he tossed it aside, rolling his eyes again. Allie could hear the voice on the other end of the phone. This person was clearly frazzled, rambling on and talking at a rapid pace.

“I will not apologize for your lack of planning, Douglas. I have already been waiting two days beyond the deadline I originally gave you…you’re testing my patience and I already don’t have much…”

While Ethan continued on the phone, Allie poured him a glass of iced tea and set it down on the table in front of him, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

Ethan reached for her hand and kissed the back of it silently, looking up at her through his glasses with tired eyes.

Allie smiled and started walking backwards.  Making sure she had Ethan’s attention, she mimed at her wrist, tapping it as if a watch was there.  

“We need to go soon…” she reminded him, quietly.

Ethan nodded and then shooed her out of the room as his conversation increased his frustration.

“And I’m telling you that I will not have a diagnosis until I get those results…”

--

Allie and Ethan had been married almost 16 years now.  Their relationship had weathered many storms at this point, but their connection to one another had never been stronger or deeper. Looking at the pictures in frames throughout their house one could see how their own love and affection for one another had grown. In the pictures from their first days of being together, their eyes sparkled and glistened. Photos from their small and intimate wedding ceremony showed true joy and happiness in their smiles. As the years wore on, they included other family in their pictures, pictures of Jenner alone in a field of wildflowers, and another new puppy, Chief. Nieces and nephews and cousins galore adorned the walls and shelves of their home. In each more recent picture of their life, their eyes were just as sparkling, smiles just as happy, but their faces older and wiser, and maybe a little more tired.

The couple had been through a lot together; it seemed as though from day one they would have more than their fair share of trials and tribulations.  But through it all they managed to come out stronger with more love, devotion and appreciation for one another than either of them thought possible.

Allie was keeping an eye on the time, her stomach a bundle of nerves.  She was working hard to ensure her lipstick looked just right, while also checking every other little detail of her makeup in the mirror.

Tonight need to be as close to perfect as possible.

Downstairs, Ethan furiously ended his call and slammed his phone down on the table with more force than he intended.  He glanced quickly at the ridiculous basket and balloons, muttered a curse word under his breath and checked the time on the wall clock in the kitchen. He quickly realized he was running late and took the stairs two at a time to get changed.

Allie heard him enter their walk-in closet and called out to him.

“All done with that phone call?”

“I am.” Ethan responded, scanning his suit jackets for the one he had in mind.

“I cannot believe you made me go to the door in my robe with my hair in these curlers!” She teased, securing an earring in place.

“You can’t honestly believe that I was going to fall for that…” Ethan scoffed, talking to her through the closet as he began to change.

“Fall for what?” Allie asked, spraying perfume on her wrists and neck.

“Allie…” His tone came across as though he was admonishing her.

“I learned my lesson! I promised you that I would never, ever in the rest of our time together, try to surprise you with anything for your birthday ever again.”

“Well forgive me for being worried that someone dressed as a teddy bear or something equally as cliché and silly, was going to jump out from behind the bushes with a song and some chocolate. You’re very unpredictable, you know.”

“And you love it.” Allie retorted.

A few moments of silence passed between the two of them as Allie made her way to the closet, too. They danced around each other a few times, Ethan reaching here to grab a tie, Allie wandering over to her shoe selection, trying to decide which ones she wanted to wear.

Her eyes scanned the footwear choices before her and she mentally calculated the pros and cons of each, tilting her head in an analytical fashion, her eyes squinting as she thought to herself.

“You still have the curlers in?” Ethan questioned, almost completely dressed now, with the exception of his tie and jacket.

“I told you, I take them out at the very…last…second…” Allie reached for a pair of shoes as Ethan stopped her.

“Wear those instead…” He nodded in the direction of one shelf above the pair Allie was going for.

“Those are old!” She insisted. “You only like these because I was wearing them two years ago on our anniversary when we went to the opera and ate at the one place with the great steak and scotch – I can’t remember the name but you loved it…”

“So what if I did? It was a lovely evening and those shoes bring back good memories.”

“Maybe for you…” Allie’s eyes grew wide as she remembered the blisters they created on the heels of her feet.

She grabbed them anyway and gave him a sly grin.

“The things we do for love.”

After laying out her dress and shoes, she returned to the bathroom and started taking her hair down. Ethan was now sitting on the end of the bed, putting his shoes on, but stopped to watch her, mesmerized by her beauty.

He could only see her reflection in the mirror from the angle at which the bed was to the entrance of their master-bath, but he still couldn’t stop his own breath from catching in the back of his throat. Not a day passed when he didn’t wake up and consider himself the luckiest man on the planet.

Sure, time had weathered them both in certain ways – physically they both had more wrinkles and gray hair; but emotionally they had grown, developed and matured in their desire for one another and their need to rely on each other through all that life had thrown their way.

Ethan was not looking forward to the dinner they were attending tonight.  Allie was the magnetic one – the woman who could make the cashier at the grocery store feel like she had known her forever. Allie was the one everyone wanted to be friends with and the so-called friends the couple did have, were only tolerant of Ethan. They were really friends with her, and he knew it. She had so much that he didn’t. He was in awe of her and admired her more than she was aware.

Allie’s long reddish-brown hair tinted now with a few streaks of gray, fell from each roller, across her shoulders and down her back. The soft tendrils were exactly the way she hoped they’d be – not too tight but not too loose.  She was actually pleased with the way her look was coming together tonight. She then reminded herself that she needed to hurry.

Ethan finished putting his shoes on and straightened himself up.

“All right, I think this is as good as I’m going to get so I’ll wait downstair—”

“Wait – could you help me with my dress please?” Allie pleaded, exiting the bathroom and stepping into the closet, then emerging again with the dress already on.

She swooped her hair to one side and turned around in front of Ethan, a silent request for him to zip up the garment.

He could smell her perfume. The same perfume she had been waring for years. The scent that would forever and always remind him of her.

Without saying a word, he slowly closed the dress, his rough calloused fingers grazing across her smooth, silky skin. He lightly kissed the exposed side of her neck while running his hands up and down both of her arms. She turned around to face him and smiled.

“Please, darling. Promise me. Promise me tonight is just a dinner, our closest friends, a simple night out and NOT a birthday celebration.” His tone was soft but serious.

“You are really worried about this aren’t you?” Allie arched an eyebrow moving closer to him, her lips almost touching his.

“Allie.” Ethan sighed, eyes closing briefly. “I just don’t like surprises.  My birthday is on a Tuesday which won’t be ‘fun enough’ for you, so I’m just worried you’re trying to plan something and make it amazing. You always have good intentions, but I never react appropriately and then I feel guilty and people are watching…”

She interrupted his stream-of-consciousness speech with her lips on his. It took him a moment to kiss her back, but he quickly melted into her touch on instinct.

“I promise I have not planned a birthday-related surprise for tonight. Relax.”

He let out a shaky breath and nodded.

“Okay then.”

“Now go get in the car, I have to reapply my lipstick already, thanks to you.” She swatted his behind as he walked away and he chuckled to himself, slightly relieved.

--

“This is where we’re eating?” Ethan questioned as valet circled the car and helped Allie out of the vehicle.

“Dr. Ramsey, Dr. Valentine – we’ve been waiting for you. Right this way.” An older woman with gentle eyes and white hair led the couple through the lobby of a very fancy hotel.

Ethan felt like everyone was watching them, but he stayed focused on trying to calm his own nerves. He wanted to trust Allie and not be paranoid about some crazy birthday plan, but he couldn’t help himself.

Allie held his hand and smiled at everyone that passed by.  Her heart was beating fast too.  Ethan could feel the pulse in her wrist as he clutched onto her for dear life.

“Ethan…” She whispered, “Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond, his gaze fixed ahead of him, following the woman to a huge ballroom full of banquet tables. When the doors opened Ethan felt light-headed. Not one seat was empty.

Music was playing and there was a stage set up at the front of the room. The room was beautifully decorated and whoever planned whatever event Ethan found himself attending, obviously spared no expense. People had just begun to eat their plated dinners. It seemed as though a few less people paid attention to him now that he was safely inside the room.

His emotions were a mixture of relief and confusion.  

Allie’s voice coaxed him out of his own thoughts.

“See?! Told ya. Nothing birthday related!” She kept hold of his hand and led him to a table closer to the front, where two seats had clearly been reserved for them.

Naveen and Harper were already at the table along with the chairman of Edenbrook’s Board of Director’s and the President of the hospital.

“I was wondering how late you’d be tonight, Ethan.  The table was taking bets before you walked in with this lovely young woman on your arm. Does Allie know?”

Ethan pulled the chair out for Allie and relaxed a little more, now that he was around familiar faces. He still didn’t quite have any idea what was going on.

“Ha-ha.” Allie chimed in sarcastically, leaning over to Naveen and kissing him on the cheek.

“Lovely to see you all this evening – thank you for coming.” She added.

“No, my dear, thank YOU for making this event possible.” The chairman spoke up, nodding towards Ethan.

“If it weren’t for Dr. Valentine, we’d only see Ramsey here walking the halls of the hospital day and night. He’d have no real life to speak of!” Naveen teased.

As the table made feeble attempts at small talk with one another, people would come up to Ethan every so often and shake his hand or clap him on the back, telling him how good it was to see him here or offering their most sincere congratulations. Ethan tried his best to be polite but was quite frankly starting to get a little annoyed. He was hungry and irritable and already wanted to be left alone.

He always felt so awkward and out of place at these things.  He never knew what to say or precisely how to act. Charming people and making idle conversation with them was not his strong suit. It was entirely out of his comfort zone. And what was worse, tonight, he clearly was already supposed to know what event he was attending or at the very least what was going on, however, he really had no clue.

Obviously there was no way that the Dr. Ethan Ramsey was about to admit to a table full of his medical peers, that he did not know what was happening or exactly what they were gathered together to celebrate tonight. To appear as though he had no answers was the worse possible fate he could imagine.

“Allie…” he whispered sweetly into her ear, placing his hand on her upper thigh, below the table.

“What exactly is going on? Help me out here…”

“Allie! I feel as though it has been forever since I’ve seen you!” Harper gushed, clearly, she had already had a few drinks and was feeling quite conversational.

“It has been!” Allie engaged with her but then quickly responded to Ethan between talking with Harper and the rest of the table.

“You’ll see.” She pecked him quickly on the lips leaving him stunned and puzzled. He could not for the life of him figure out what any of this had to do with him.

Allie knew he’d never ask anyone else at the table what was going on. She had him right where she wanted him. He knew it too and he hated her for it.

As hard as he tried not to get mad, he felt anger rising in his chest. He always struggled when he didn’t feel in control. When two plus two didn’t add up to be four, he had a very difficult time adjusting. Everyone was being nice to him, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Was this some kind of party?

Ethan took a few shallow breaths and pushed through, talking to those around him and grasping for Allie every chance he got, in a respectful and not attention-seeking way. Little touches here and there left her connected to him. She was what kept him grounded and he needed her desperately tonight.

He was continuing to get old. He saw it in the mirror as it reflected his own face every single day. This birthday coming up was just another reminder of how much life had been lived. The depth of the few relationships he had and the stark reminder of what he lacked, always hit him square on, around this time of year. Birthdays were not and never would be his favorite.

Dramatically, he began thinking of how betrayed he felt by Allie. She had duped him once again and led him on. How could she promise him she hadn’t done anything when clearly this whole thing had been executed flawlessly? She was too smart. She knew he wouldn’t blow up on her here, in front of people.  

He then began looking around at the decorations, the food, the stage, this lavish hotel he’d only been in once before, and the dollar signs began adding up in his mind. Now suddenly worried about how much she had spent on this over-the-top soiree, he needed to excuse himself and go get some air.

He slowly released his grasp on Allie’s hand, and sheepishly removed himself from the table.

“Ethan, no. Sit down. You can’t…you can’t leave right now.” Allie smiled as she instructed him, but her tone was serious.

“Alexandra, what in God’s name is going on? This is ridiculous that I cannot even…” Ethan was interrupted by a man on stage and he quickly took his seat, not wanting to make a scene.

Through clenched teeth, he leaned over to Allie once again.

“You promised me.” He hissed, beginning to seethe with anger. He thought after all this time she would know him better than this.

“Is a slideshow of my life going to start playing soon? Clowns and confetti coming through in a second? All these people?! Allie, come on!”

“Hush.” She put a finger to his lips, remaining calm. “Pay attention.”

“…it is with that in mind that we take time tonight to pay honor to a man who really needs no introduction…”

“Is that the Governor of Massachusetts?”  Ethan gawked. “You got the governor…”

“Put these on.” Allie slid his glasses over to him with a smile. “Yes, that’s the governor. Now hush and listen.”

Ethan was totally put out at this point, but put his glasses on and sat back in his chair. He was frustrated. His leg was bobbing up and down unconsciously. He had nervous energy. He wanted to leave. He wanted to get up and run out the door. He mentally noted the exits in the room. How fast could he make it? He was a little sore from his run earlier this morning but with this much adrenaline, surely, he could…

“Leading the nationally renowned diagnostics team at Edenbrook hospital has been the bulk of his responsibility for the last 25 years. Under his leadership, this team has brought great prestige and esteem to Edenbrook, to Boston and to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.  Not to mention the incredible notoriety and hundreds of millions of dollars of revenue that we have all benefitted from, due to his excellent work.”

Ethan paused, sitting up straighter, starting to put the pieces together.

“His colleagues from across the country have gathered here tonight to celebrate his contributions to the medical field, but tonight I want to celebrate his contributions to our state and to our community. There will be time for more accolades as the evening continues but first, and foremost, let us celebrate him and hear what he has to say.”

Allie squeezed his hand again, beaming with pride.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my distinct honor, pleasure and privilege to be able to introduce you to our guest of honor tonight. Please join me in congratulating this year’s recipient of the Massachusetts Medical Society Lifetime Achievement Award, Dr. Ethan Ramsey of Edenbrook Hospital.

The room erupted in applause with some people whooping and hollering. Immediately everyone sprang to their feet, even Ethan. For a moment he wasn’t sure if he had to go on stage or not, but it became clear that there was an award he needed to accept and most likely a speech that would been expected.

Stunned and feeling as though he was floating on air, he quickly made his way up to the stage, hoping no one could see that his hands were shaking a bit. He shook hands with the governor, took his award in both hands and immediately looked out among the crowd.

Ethan tried to scan the faces, wanting to soak in this moment – he was stunned and still unsure if he was really awake.  While he tried to focus on the faces and really see who it was who had come out to support him, his gaze was instantly drawn to one and only one person in the room.

Allie wiped tears away from her eyes quickly, wanting to keep her emotions at bay. The only thing she felt in this moment was immense pride, and maybe a little bit of satisfaction in pulling this over on her beloved.  Standing and still applauding, she looked up at him in awe. Awe that he was hers. Not that his accomplishments and professional achievements weren’t worthy – but the only thing he was to her in that moment was Ethan. Her husband. The love of her life.

“Please.” Ethan cleared his throat as he spoke into the microphone, both his heart and mind racing.

“This is quite enough, please sit.” He instructed a little more forcefully.  

Allie led the group in finding their seats as a hush fell over the crowd, waiting to hear from the man they were all there to honor.

“I know this will come as a shock to most of you who know me well, especially those who work with me on a daily basis…but I’m finding myself speechless at the moment…”

Ethan chuckled as did the rest of the room.  He bit his lip, locking eyes with Allie and shaking his head, grinning and smirking, a combination of the two.

“I had no idea, absolutely no clue that this was happening tonight. I’m blown away by your support and your presence here tonight. I…uh…” He cleared his throat again, then looked back out into the audience.

He found Allie’s eyes, and also his words again.

“I do not take this award lightly and it truly means so much to me. I don’t know that I like the fact that I’m old enough now to be receiving lifetime achievement awards, but I am grateful, really. I love what I do, I’m fortunate to have a wonderful job that keeps me guessing every single day; really great co-workers, at least most of the time…” Again, the audience laughed.

“I get to teach med students in their first years of residency, and then you know, help save people’s lives. It’s actually surreal that this is the life I get to live.”

Ethan took a deep breath, biting his lip and trying to measure out his next statements carefully.

“As great as all of that is, I know that there is absolutely no possible way for me to be standing before you tonight as the person that I am today, without the love, devotion and care of my wife, Allie Valentine. She’s my Rookie.”

He paused, looking down, one hand finding his heart as he became overcome with emotion. He took several seconds to gather himself, he wanted to stay composed.

“I was actually pretty upset with her tonight for dragging me here and not telling me what the hell was going on. Even though all the things that have been written about me and said about me are true, and my accomplishments have garnered our entire team with a lot of recognition and such, I am most proud of being her husband.

Why she chose to settle down with a grumpy old man like me, I’ll never fully understand…but everything I am and everything I have today is completely because of her faith in me and her ability to make me the best possible version of myself.

When we met, I thought I would be the one teaching her everything she needed to know, but in the end, she has taught me more than I ever taught her.”

Allie’s eyes were filled with tears, she could hardly look at him without feeling as though she was going to burst with pride. She blew him a kiss from her seat and wiped away more tears, not daring to let them fall down her cheeks and ruin the makeup she tried so hard to perfect earlier that evening.

“I feel like I’m Rambling Ramsey up here so I’ll wrap this up - I could go on all night telling you about what Mrs. Ramsey means to me, what this award means to me, but I’ll stop here. Thank you again and please, I want to work the room as they say and thank all of you personally so come find me and…really, sincerely, this means so much to me. Thank you.”

Before he knew it, Ethan was swept away for pictures, people swarming around him, talking to him, handing him scotch after scotch, as it was well-known to be his drink of choice. It felt like at least an hour before he made his way back to Allie. She had just finished speaking with the Governor, when Ethan snuck up behind her.

Immediately, she turned and wrapped her arms around him.  

“Happy Birthday, my love!” She whispered in his ear.

“I cannot believe you did this to me…” He said seriously, looking in her eyes. “I hope you know you’re going to get it when we get home.” Ethan teased.

Laughing, Allie picked her glass of Prosecco from the table and raised it towards him in a mock toast as she wiggled her eyebrows and walked towards the open bar.

“Was already planning on it…” She muttered under her breath as she watched him walk away.

“I heard that…” He called out over his shoulder.

--

Throughout the night each one of them independently visited with people, giving them their sincere thanks and letting them know how meaningful it was to share this evening with them. Every few minutes or so Ethan would find Allie or Allie would find Ethan and they’d give each other a quick squeeze of the hand or a kiss on the cheek as they brushed passed each other and moved on to the next well-wisher.

“I don’t know what she sees in you…” Naveen said to Ethan as he took a swig from a beer bottle, nodding towards Allie who was across the room. “She’s perfect.”

“No doubt about it, I’m the lucky one.” Ethan agreed as Allie sauntered over to the two of them.

“This cannot be good.” She laughed, pointing at them both.  “What are you plotting?”

“You’re the schemer.” Naveen chided. “No one could have pulled this off better, my queen.”

Naveen pretended to bow before her with both arms raised above his head while he bent at the waist.

“Oh stop.” Allie waved him off.

“It looks like this crowd is thinning out and if I stay in these shoes much longer my feet will need to be amputated.”

She leaned on Ethan, stifling a yawn.  

“I know a guy who can help with that…” Naveen offered, finishing his drink.

“You really know how to throw a birthday party!” He added, following Ethan and Allie out to the valet line for the cars.

“It wasn’t a birthday party!” Both Ethan and Allie said in unison, Allie’s brow furrowed in mock anger.

Naveen begged for forgiveness and said his goodbyes while the couple waited for their vehicle to be brought around. As they sunk into the vehicle, beyond tired, Allie immediately kicked off her heels and Ethan loosened his tie. He threw his jacket into the backseat along with Allie’s shoes and rolled down the windows a bit for fresh air.

“Before we get going…” Allie put her hand on his as it rested on the gearshift.

“I know I said no more surprises – but you can’t be mad at me because this technically wasn’t a birthday surprise it was a general surprise and I knew that if you knew they were giving you an award you’d come up with some excuse not to go and I just couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t get a chance to hear all these people tell you how amazing you are because I know you’re amazing and I tell you all the time but sometimes you don’t believe me.”

She stopped to take a quick breath.

“So, I hope that tonight you know just how many people agree with me that you’re incredible – so please, please don’t be mad. I don’t want to ride all the way home with you in silence because I pulled one over on you.”

“Whoa. Allie. Calm down.” Ethan reached out to her and held her face in his hand.

“I’m not mad. It was a great surprise and…”

He reached across the console and kissed her hard, passionately, with so much force that his lips burned her skin.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” She whispered.

He laced his hand into hers and held it all the way home, staying the way they had been all the years of their relationship and even in little moments all night long…connected, grateful and in awe that somehow, someway they had found each other and were never ever letting go.

[princecharmingmendes]

Just the Way You Are | Peter Mendes

Peter gets even more insecure about his feelings towards you, that you don’t even know about (Best Friends to Lovers).

* Hi! This is my first work ever on this site, so I’d love if you guys could give me some feedback or whatever, it would mean the world to me!

*Word count: 4.7k

*Warnings: mentions of sex, drinking, cursing, adorable Peter, and I guess that’s it!

*Posted: December 2nd, 2019.

                                                        -*-

“Y/N?” Peter asked breathlessly answering his phone.

“Are you okay?” She asked with her voice a little weird.

“Yeah, I was just editing some photos, really focused and only noticed my phone was ringing when it fell of my nightstand, so I had to run or you’d have reached voicemail”

“Sorry, I didn’t even think to text you to see if you’re awake or with someone, or studying”

“It’s okay, so, why are you calling me on a Wednesday at one a.m.?”

“I just got home from that trip I told you I was going with Jake...”

“Oh, great, how was it?” Peter sighed closing his eyes and rubbing his temple with his free hand, already hating himself for asking.

“It sucked” She said pacing around her room.

“Really? Why?”

“He was extremely selfish and rude with everyone, I just wanted to leave as fast as I could”

“Was he rude to you?”

“No, just annoying”

“That’s a little less fucked up, isn’t it?”

“Dunno, don’t care, I dumped him” She said shrugging and laying in her bad, starring at a picture of her and Peter hugging and smiling, with Shawn and Raul kneeled in front of them with the funniest expressions.

“You did what?”

“I ended whatever we had”

“Why?!”

“You didn’t seem to like him that much to care about the reason why I dumped him, I thought that you’d be thrilled”

“I didn’t, I hated him, it’s just, I... how are you dealing with it? I thought you actually liked him and stuff”

“He was... fine I guess, it’s not like he was the love of my life”

“Don’t you miss him?”

“I was with him like, two hours ago”

“You know what I meant”

“I know, I’m sorry... it’s just... is it bad that I don’t? Like, at all?”

“Of course not, just means that you did the right thing, angel... it wasn’t meant to be”

“God, I just wish I could hug you and squeezing you right now”

“It’s late, angel, you should sleep”

“I know, I’m sorry, what are you guys doing this weekend?”

“Nothing, just going to Shawn’s place, he’s getting back tomorrow night”

“Oh, that’s nice”

“Do you want to join us?”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course! They love you as much as I do, and we miss you” 

“Okay, then count me in, are you sleeping there?”

“No, I’m coming back home with Raul”

“Okay, can you give me a ride?”

“Do you want to sleep here?”

“At your house?”

“Yeah, that’s dumb, sorry, sure, I’ll give you a ride”

“No, it’s not, I’d love to crash there”

“Great, angel, see you Saturday then?” Peter asked trying to confirm that he wasn’t going completely nuts with a smile that was already hurting her cheeks.

“Yeah! That will be perfect! Thank you so much, Peter, I love you”

“I love you too, goodnight, angel”

And just like that, they both went to bed with the most idiot smiles plastered on their faces.

                                                        -*-

When Saturday arrived, Peter went to the gym to try to spend as much energy as he could, seeing her after a month is literally almost killing him. They’ve been friends since they wore diapers, the four of them to be precise. But she’s always been closer to him. He had a crush on her since he was seventeen and he hid that like it was the worst thing that had ever happened in his life. Shawn and Raul only found out last year, on Shawn’s twenty first birthday, where they saw Peter drinking more than usual because she was making out with her boyfriend at the time.

What Peter didn’t know was that she started falling for him when they’re fifteen. 

Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about seeing the triplets, especially because they’ve never been so many days apart, except for Shawn that was touring the world. But spending the last month and a half away from her best friends, specially Peter, was actually bothering her. She spent the rest of the days until Saturday counting the hours to see them. She simply couldn’t wait to hug and annoy the he’ll out of them. 

So now she’s sitting in her bed, staring at her closet, trying to figure out what to wear. A nice outfit would be good to say “I’m single but I’m so fine with my self” or “hi, missed you, I’m too intimate with you to care about how I look and I want to be comfortable”. In the end, she ended up opting for a tight tank top, some cute sweatpants and a pair of her favorite sneakers. Her hair was naturally wavy and face bare of makeup, except for mascara and lip balm. 

She grabbed her backpack with her toiletries and a few clothes to change later and headed out the building, deciding to walk to Peter’s place instead of driving, it was only a few blocks away and it was still day. She left early anyway, so since walking would take longer, she opted for that to don’t be early, since he told her to go there around seven.

Well, she was too eager and ended up early anyways. She was in the front of the building deciding if she should go upstairs or if she should wait twenty minutes til seven. When she was almost giving up and heading for the coffee on the corner, she felt someone wrapping their arms around her torso from behind and she completely froze, relaxing a bit when she heard his laugh.

“Hey, baby!” 

“Raul!” She said turning around and hugging him as tight as possible.

“What are you doing down here?”

“I got here too early, didn’t know if I was supposed to just go upstairs or wait”

“Oh, that’s bullshit, you know you can come in anytime, you even got the key”

“Yeah, whatever”

“Let’s go?”

“Sure” I said letting go of him but he never let me, so he kept his arm around my shoulders.

“Pete’s dying to see you”

“Really?” She said lightly chuckling.

“Yeah, he’s been driving me nuts”

“Oh, come on, he’s sweet”

“Of course you’d say that, you love him!”

“Hey! I really appreciate him as a friend”

“Uh sure, so you’re just gonna lie and say you don’t have a crush on my brother”

“Fuck you, Raul” I said pushing his shoulder playfully and he full on laughed getting out of the elevator.

“I’ll be right back” Raul said in the moment we stepped into his place and disappeared on the hallway to his bedroom.

I wandered around the place, seeing new pictures hanging on the wall and admiring every little detail in every single one of them, knowing that Peter probably took it and spent hours editing. Just when I grabbed on that was me and only me I heard his voice.

“Raul, who were you taking to?” Peter asked and I turned around, placing the picture on the couch and pretty much throwing myself at him, wrapping him in the tightest hug I could possibly give “hey, angel” he said surprised as heck, wrapping his arms around me just as tightly and kissing my hair multiple time, taking me off the ground.

“Hey, Pete” I said nuzzling my face on his neck, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“You’re early” he said chuckling.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be, I’m glad you’re here” he said kissing my temple.

“God, I missed you so much”

“I missed you too, sweetheart”

“Not as much as I did”

“I doubt that” Raul said coming from behind Peter “dude, put on some clothes at least”

That’s when she noticed that his skin was not completely dry, his hair was damp and he only had a towel wrapped around his waist. Y/N quickly let go of him and walked backwards, feeling her cheeks burn, and she was able to see Peters whole body tint pink. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Y/N”

“No, it’s okay, Pete, I don’t mind, go change, I’ll be here”

“I’m sorry” he said going back to his room.

“Damn, I didn’t know you were that crazy about him”

“Oh, fuck off, Raul” I said rolling my eyes “I didn’t even noticed that he was partially naked”

“Oh, but you liked the view, he is working out a lot more than he used to”

“I noticed that, he’s bigger than you”

“He is”

“What happened?”

“He’s just interested in getting built or something”

“Why?”

“Maybe a girl, I don’t know”

“Is he seeing someone?!”

“Don’t know, he doesn’t really talk about it in details”

“Oh”

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?”

“Nothing really” Raul said shrugging “when are going to go to Shawn’s?”

“I don’t know, is he home yet?”

“Probably, I’m just gonna call him to check” Peter said texting him “he said we can go now, he just asked us to go to the market first, to grab somethings”

“Fine, lemme just grab my jacket, okay?” Raul asked going back to his room.

“Sure”

“Do you want to leave you things on the guest room?”

“Guest room?”

“Yeah, we have one now”

“Nice”

“Yeah, so... do you want to leave your things there?”

“Mhm”  She mumbled and following to the room he pointed, dropping her stuff on the bed. 

“Come on, losers, let’s grab Shawn’s list and head to his house” Raul called from the front door.

“Oh, shut up, douche” She said rolling her eyes and trying to suppress a laugh.

Peter chuckled and offered his hand for her to grab, and she happily did it. 

                                                       -*-

They grabbed a lot of snacks and Shawn’s requests which were always the same since he was away for too long and had nothing on his fridge. We went straight to his condo after the little market stop by and Peter parked at his spot in his brother’s garage. When they got in the elevator she was practically bouncing of excitement to finally see Shawn, Raul couldn’t stop himself from laughing and Peter was constantly grinning at her. 

“Go, just get in and hug him” Raul said patting her back.

She quickly did what he said when the elevator doors opened and barged into his house.

“Hey, gu... Y/N?” Shawn sounded extremely surprised, but quickly ran to her and hugged her as tight as possible.

“Hey, rockstar”

“I can’t believe you’re here!”

“No one told you I was coming?”

“No! God I missed you!” Shawn said spinning her around making her laugh.

“Surprise!” Raul announced getting in with the bags “not saying hello to your big bro?”

“Hey, I had lunch with you guys yesterday, I don’t see her in ages!”

“What are the plans for today?” Peter said placing everything in place in Shawn’s kitchen, Y/N running there to help him.

“I thought we could watch something, talk, have a few drinks and maybe play some games, for old times sake”

“Count me in” Raul said.

“I’m cool with it” She said placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“So am I”

“Cool, I’m ordering pizza” Shawn announced.

“Me and Pete are getting the kitchen organized”

“I’m getting the living room ready”

                                                        -*-

After they ate three whole pizzas, a movie in and a few beers down, except for Peter who’s going to drive back, they started debating which movie they should watch next. Shawn was sitting with his feet on the central table, Raul was lying on the floor. Y/N and Peter were on the same side of the “L” shaped couch, she was with a pillow on her lap and her legs on top of Peter’s lap, which he was gently caressing, but never going to far high, always the sweetest. 

“Just put on something random and let’s talk”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, Raul, Friends maybe” she said shrugging.

“Fine”

“So, Shawn, how was tour?”

“Amazing, the last leg was fantastic, everything was great, the crowd was fantastic” 

“That’s so nice, I’m so fucking proud of you” She said smiling and Shawn.

“Thank you, honey, what about you?”

“Me?”

“How was that trip?”

“Shitty, dumped him”

“Why?”

“He didn’t deserve her” Peter mumbled.

“What?” Raul asked turning around to face us.

“He was not enough, he was rude and didn’t treat her the way she deserved”

“If you say so...” Shawn said shrugging.

“Peter’s actually right, he was just... whatever”

“You’re fine?”

“Couldn’t be better” she said lying her head on Peter’s shoulder.

“That’s great” 

“You know what we should do?”

“What, Raul?” Peter asked rolling his eyes at his brother.

“Play some sort of truth or dare”

“Oh no” Y/N said chuckling.

“What do you me by ‘some sort of’?”

“We can just ask questions, like, spin something and ask something, if the person doesn’t want to answer, the person needs to do a dare”

“Okay, that seems innocent enough” Shawn said chuckling.

“Guys, are we twelve or something?” Peter asked playing with his fingers, clearly nervous. 

“Why? Scared?”

“Fuck off, Raul”.

“Are you in?”

“Yeah, whatever” Peter said sighing and she grabbed his hand.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want it”

“No, it’s okay, angel, I’ll do it” Peter said kissing my knuckles.

“Fine, everybody on the floor!” Raul said downing his beer bottle and everybody settled down on the fluffy rug.

“Okay, I’m spinning” Shawn said grabbing the bottle from Raul’s hand and spinning it, the edge pointing to me.

“Okay, you’re gonna ask a question and the three of us are going to answer, if we choose not to, we have to do something, you can propose a dare”

“Cool, who was your worst kiss?”

“Just like that, huh?” Raul asked grinning at her.

“Sure!”

“Mine was with that nurse I dated for two weeks” Raul said.

“Five days, Raul, mine was my ex”

“But you guys were together for a few months, Pete!”

“I know, I liked her, we just didn’t fit”

“Well, mine was my first, awful experience”

“Okay, great, I’m spinning now?”

“Yep!”

So she did and it was Shawn’s turn.

“What was the worst thing you’ve ever done in school?”

“Uuuh, that’s easy, I purposely blowed up the chemistry class so I could go home early to watch a game without ditching”

“I thought you were going to say you burned someone”

“Hey, Y/N, I’m not that bad”

“Whatever, Raul, the worst thing I’ve ever done? Oh, I went on a date with that substitute teacher and the next day we made out on the library, and then I never saw him again, Mr. Harrison was back”

“I can’t believe it! You were like seventeen!” Shawn sounded extremely shocked.

“He was twenty something at the time, not so old, okay? What about you, Pete?”

“Me? I... o helped someone cheat on a test or something”

“Really? I didn’t think you did that” Raul said with his brow arched.

“Well, it was a one time thing”

“That makes a little more sense” Shawn said spinning.

“Peter!”

“Hmm... when was the last time you guys actually liked someone, as in, really like?”

“Last year”

“Two years ago”

“What about you, angel?”

“Me? I don’t, maybe now?”

“Now?!”

“That’s another question, Peter” She said chuckling, making him blush.

“Yeah, right, sorry” he said spinning the bottle.

“Finally! Okay, where was the craziest place you guys did it? And I’d say something like Eiffel Tower I’ll literally murder you, Shawn” Raul said making all of them laugh.

“The jet” Shawn said shrugging.

“On the hood of my ex’s car”

“Holy crap, really? Where?”

“And the end of a cliff we used to hang out at, it was always very empty” she said playing with the throw pillow on her lap.

“That’s nice” Raul said smirking.

“Fuck off”

“And you, Peter?” Shawn asked.

“The end of the bed, I guess” he said lowly and sighing, feeling a hand being placed on his thigh, seeing her fingers lightly caressing the area. 

“Why don’t we play a little bit of Mario kart?”

“Why? This is nice!” Raul said crossing his arms.

“What? Are you afraid to loose for a little girl?”

“Never, let’s play, baby!”

“Fine, will go find the remotes, come help me, Raul” Shawn said getting up.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re a looser”

“Fuck you” he said getting up and pushing Shawn into the hallway.

“Thanks” Peter mumbled under his breath.

“For what?”

“For getting me out of that situation” he almost whispered.

“Hey, of course, you don’t have to thank me, Pete, I’ll always have your back” she said grabbing his hand.

“Thank you” he said kissing the back of her hand “can I ask you something?”

“Sure, shoot”

“Who do you like?”

“We’re not playing the game anymore”

“I know, I just thought that there were no secrets between us, Angel”

“There aren’t, it’s just that it’s nothing serious, he doesn’t even know yet, and I don’t know if I want this to become a thing so yeah, anyway, I’m sorry, I promise I will tell you if I change my mind about him”

“Okay” he said kissing her forehead and she smiled at him.

“Found them!” Shawn said coming back to the room.

“Great” She said getting up and sitting on the couch “ready to loose, Raul?”

“I’m not loosing”

“Yeah, you are” Peter said climbing on the couch as well.

And so they spent their night like that, between teasing, laughing, eating junk food and just spending some precious time together, which has become more rare with their schedules. Around two in the morning Peter decide it’s time to get back home and leave Shawn to rest, so the three of them go back to the boys’ apartment. Raul went straight to his room, not before kissing the top of your head goodnight, and probably fell asleep pretty quickly.

Peter did the same thing, but went to the guest room with her to wish her goodnight and kiss her forehead one more time, before going back to his room. She couldn’t sleep well that night, feeling a little weird towards Peter, he got all weird after the game and wouldn’t talk to her. But what she didn’t know, is that he couldn’t either. He spent the whole night rolling on his bed, thinking how pathetic he was and how she would never fall for him if he was still like that. 

                                                        -*-

One week. That’s how long Peter’s been acting weird. He suddenly attended parties in the middle of the week, wasn’t wearing his glasses, and had a date every single night, but still trying to make time for Y/N by meeting her for lunch. Raul noticed the difference as well and actually asked him what was that all about, but he only got a “there’s nothing different, I just never told you guys about it” as an answer and that only triggered Y/N more. Since when was he lying to her?!

On the next weekend she went to the boy’s house without texting any of them. It’s not something that she had ever done before, but still, it felt weird. So there she was, in front of their apartment door, considering knocking or just barging in. So she just grabbed her key and got in, not seeing any sign of the guys there. She made herself at home, dropping her bag at the couch and went straight to Peter’s room, not finding him there. So Y/N just sat at his bed and waited until he got home, but she ended up falling asleep.

When Peter got home, after going out with another girl just to impress her or forget her, whatever happened first, he could swear his heart melted. She was sprawled on his bed, cuddling the hoodie he left there and curled into herself. He quickly grabbed a blanket and placed over her, leaving his things on his room and heading for the kitchen to make them both something to eat. Deciding to ditch the party he didn’t even wanted to go to be with her.

“Hey?” Her voice sounded soft from behind him.

Peter turned around to see her actually wearing his hoodie and with her hair in a messy bun. 

“Hey, you’re up”

“Yeah, I didn’t even know I fell asleep, sorry”

“Hey, it’s okay, you know I love having you here, everything’s okay?”

“With me? Yes, what are you doing?”

“Pasta, for us, Raul’s at the hospital and he’s not coming back today”

“Oh, sorry to bother your Saturday’s plans”

“It’s okay, you’ll always come first, so, what brought you here?”

“You”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you, Peter, we need to talk, can we?”

“Of course, just let me do something about dinner” he said tiding up the kitchen “wanna sit on the couch?”

“Okay” she said turning around and sitting there with her legs crossed, he sat on the same couch, turning to face her.

“What’s wrong, angel?”

“You are all wrong”

“Me?! What’s wrong with me?”

“What’s wrong with you? In one day you changed completely, started partying on week days, having several dates in 24 hours, ditching classes, not wearing your glasses, you even got your ears pierced”

“That’s me!”

“That’s not you! And really, if that’s what you want to be, fine, I don’t care, I love you, but everything happened so fast and I never thought you would be someone like this”

“Like what? Actually nice? Actually interesting? Someone girls would want?”

“No!”

“No what? What’s wrong with me being lime this? I’m not boring old nerd, I’m actually someone desired and cool, can’t you see it?”

“See what?”

“That like this I’m not invisible anymore, people actually want to be around me, they see me the same way people see Shawn and Raul, I’m not there shadow anymore”

“Pete...”

“No, Y/N, that’s the first time you actually noticed me? Even my best friend didn’t see me, Shawn is the popstar, Raul is the bad boy with a golden heart, and me? Well, I know how to use a camera and can’t say ‘no’ to anyone, wow, the best triplet”

“Pet...”

“People would only talk to me to get to one of them, maybe even Aaliyah”

“P...”

“And to add to the whole equation, I’m not enough for you. I’m not cool enough, I’m not hot enough, I’m not the kind of guy the would be brave enough to have sex with you on the hood of my car in the middle of nowhere, I’m not the guy that parties all night and wear cool clothes, or has a bunch of tattoos and lots of ex girlfriends, or am the best kisser, or the most talented or...”

“Peter, shut up!” She said watching the guy in front of her almost pull all of his hair out.

“I’m sorry, you don’t need to hear this, I’m just...”

“You’re perfect!”

“I’m what?”

“You’re perfect, Peter”

“No, I’m...”

“Hey hey hey, you talked too much already, lemme speak a little, okay?” She asked grabbing his hands while he nodded “yeah, you’re not the ‘coolest’ triplet or whatever, but you’re equally talented and hot, you might not be a bad boy who would fuck me on the fucking top of the Eiffel Tower, or the one that would take me to hundreds of parties, or wear leather jackets, or date a bunch of people” with that Peter lowered his head but she wouldn’t have it, so she cupped his face with both hand, kneeling in front of him “but you’re my Peter, the guy who would light up the whole place with candles and dance around the apartment with me, who would take me to an art exposition and tell me everything about the guys technique, who wears the coziest hoodies and the sweetest glasses, who dates only a few girls, but makes them feel like they are the only one in the world, you’re my person, Peter, you’re the guy I’ve fallen in love since I am fifteen years old and tried to forget all the time cause you’re my best friend and I didn’t want to ruin it, okay? I love you, just the way you are, Pete, don’t you dare change yourself to please somebody else”

“You love me? Like that?” He asked with wide eyes.

“I love you, just like that”

“Oh my God, are you for real?”

“One hundred percent” she said giggling and kissing the tip of his nose.

“I love you too, so so so much” he said placing his hands carefully on her sides.

“Good, now promise me one thing” she said leaning forward.

“Anything”

“Don’t ever lie to me again, if you feel insecure again, talk to me, okay? I’ll always love and support you, no matter what” she said mere inches way from his face.

“Okay, angel, I promise”

“Great, now can I kiss you or not?” She asked with a smug grin on her face that was quickly erased by his lips colliding with hers in the sweetest kiss she’s ever had.

Peter wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, making her fall on his lap, straddling his body. She ran her hand through his curls, tugging lightly making him groan slightly, and a little after that, she felt his tongue on her lower lip making her part her lips almost instantaneously, deepening the kiss.

They spent a while just lazily making out on the couch, curious hands discovering each other’s bodies in ways they’ve never done before. After a while they parted just slightly, to recover the breaths and he rested his forehead on hers, panting a bit. They both had the most stupid smiles plastered on their faces. 

“Angel?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to go on a date with me? Let’s say, tomorrow at lunch?”

“I’d love to... Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

“Of course you can!”

“But like... with you? And maybe cuddle?”

“Yes, yes you can”

“Okay” she said pecking his lips and getting up, receiving a whine from him”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m starving, I want the pasta you promised me!”

“Fine, but then I’m not letting you go, this still feels too much like a dream to me”

“Seems fair” she said chuckling and offering him her hand, which he gladly took.

“Let me finish our food”

And with that, he was back at cooking, bur eventually taking breaks to peck her lips softly. They ate in front of the tv, watching a random romcom and making fun of it. After that, they cleaned everything up and headed for his room, in which he changed into a pair of sweatpants and she took her jeans off, deciding to sleep only in his hoodie (and he wasn't complaining about it). They lied down together and immediately tangled themselves and started to talk about everything and anything until they fell asleep, which she did first, giving Peter some time to admire her and let the facts that happened that night sink in.

He never felt happier, and neither did she.

                                                        -*-

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” They both sat up extremely quickly to the sound of someone shouting at the end of the bed “why were you barely dressed on top of him?” Raul asked in a normal tone this time, but still sounding like he saw a three headed unicorn.

“We got our shit together yesterday and I guess we are together now” She said simply, laying back on Peter’s bed.

“Are you two together for real?”

“Yeah, Raul, now can you just leave? We went late to bed and I’m tired” Peter said laying back and pulling Y/N to lay on his chest.

“Okay, okay, sorry, guess I’ll see you at lunch?”

“We’re going out on a date, but maybe later, now leave” Peter said playing with Y/N’s hair.

“I can’t believe it, I have to call Shawn” Raul said leaving the room.

“Well, I didn’t want you to wake up like that” Peter mumbled kissing her forehead.

“It’s okay, waking up with you beside has always been the best, but now is even better” 

“I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, if we go back to sleep and wake up later we can pretend this never happened”

“That’s an amazing idea, Angel” Peter said kissing her hair softly and going back to playing with her hair.

“I love you” she whispered lightly before going back to sleep.

“I love you too, Y/N”

                                                         -*-

*I have a few more projects planned and a few that are almost done.

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know if I’m supposed to keep posting or something like that.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this.

*Guess that’s it, hope you guys enjoy it! 

*xoxo*

-🌙

[stilinskishit]

Too Long (A Stiles Stilinski Fanfic) - Chapter 5

**First couple of posts have a different title but I changed it because I didn’t like it :)**

Summary: Teen Wolf with a female main character alongside Scott and Stiles? Here it is. Ramie McCall is Scott’s twin sister and best friends with both her twin and Stiles. The trio’s friendship means the world to all three of them, so what happens when there are more than friend type of feelings present?

Tags: @multi-madison​​ @purple286 @multifandxm353​ @bralessandflawless

A/N: Night School is one of my fave episodes but also has a lot happening so I had to cut it down some! Really excited for the next chapter though :)

MASTERLIST

Chapter 5: Punching

(Season 1, Episodes 5, 6, 7)

After their free period trip, which included a drugged Lydia getting way too close to Stiles and a terrifying picture found on her phone, Ramie and Stiles headed to the Stilinski’s to try and get a hold of Scott and tell him what they found on Lydia’s phone.

“That has to be the alpha,” Stiles told Ramie, slamming the door to his room behind the two of them.

“Obviously,” Ramie replied, dropping her backpack on the ground. “20 bucks Scott is with Allison. It’s her birthday.”

“I don’t care who he’s with, he just needs to answer the phone,” Stiles said, his phone up to his ear as he paced back and forth across his room. “Hey, it’s me again,” He said to Scott’s voicemail. “Look Raim and I found something and we don’t know what to do, just please call back. Or else, I’ll kill you.”

“Stiles,” Ramie sighed. Stiles gave her a death glare and she rolled her eyes back at him, laying back onto his bed. Stiles sat down on his desk chair, laying his head on the back of it.  A knock on his door made them both jump as Stiles’ dad entered the room.

“Ramie, hi,” Noah said, giving her a smile. “Didn’t know you were here. Where’s Scott?”

“Long story,” Stiles huffed. “What’s up?”

“Please tell me I’m going to hear good news at this parent teacher conference tonight,” Noah sighed. Ramie scoffed.

“Depends on how you define good news,” Stiles said.

“I define that as you getting straight A’s with no behavioral issues,” Noah said, glancing at Ramie who now had her hand over her mouth.

“You might want to rethink that definition,” Stiles said, pulling a face as his Dad sighed again. Noah looked between Ramie, who was trying to hold back a laugh, and his son.

“Enough said,” Noah nodded, leaving the room. He went to close the door behind him but then glanced between Stiles and Ramie, and opened it all the way. Stiles didn’t notice this at all, but Ramie did. Did Noah really think something was going to happen between her and Stiles? The boy caught her attention, pushing away her thoughts as he checked his phone again, groaning.

“Stiles I should go,” Ramie got up off the bed.

“What? Why?”

“My Mom’s home tonight because of conferences and I told her I’d be home for dinner,” Ramie told him as she grabbed her backpack. “I’ll call you if I hear from Scott, okay?” Stiles grunted and Ramie walked over to him, giving him a small pat on the shoulder before leaving his room and heading home.

…

Stiles and Ramie were already in class when Scott showed up the next morning. Stiles was blaming Scott for his Dad getting hurt the night before, and had offered to bring Ramie to school, but not Scott. Ramie glanced behind her at Stiles when Scott entered the room. Stiles saw Scott and rolled his eyes, blowing a sharp breath of air out of his mouth.

“Play nice,” Ramie raised her eyebrows at Stiles, who ignored her. Ramie heard the two boys bickering throughout class about Stiles’ dad and Derek, but kept her head towards the front of the room. However, at the end of the day when Ramie was waiting for Stiles to drive her home after the detention he and Scott had earned themselves, the two seemed back to normal. Over the course of the day, Stiles and Scott had figured out that Allison actually helped control Scott’s ability to hold back a shift, not make it worse as they previously thought. It’s like she held him down, kept him grounded.

Stiles and Scott took off after dropping Ramie at home, who decided she was going to stay out of whatever they were getting themselves into that night and do homework. However,  when she got a text from Stiles at 10 that night saying he needed to see her at the school, Ramie of course went, against her better judgement. She told herself she was going in case something serious was going on, but she knew deep down she was in so deep with him, like Danny had said.

She called Lydia to ask for a ride, since her Mom had the car at work and Stiles was the only other person who ever drove Ramie anywhere. Lydia was with Jackson, much to Ramie’s dismay, but a ride was a ride so she accepted Lydia’s offer for the two of them to pick her up. When they three of them pulled up to the school, they noticed the front doors open and swaying slightly in the wind. Ramie knew back entrances that didn’t usually get locked, so she figured she would get in through one of those, until she saw the doors wide open. And something felt off.

“Why did you come here again?” Jackson asked, getting out of the car with Ramie. Lydia gave a huff and unbuckled, quickly following the two of them around to the front of the car.

“Stiles asked me to,” Ramie said, eyeing the school, wondering if maybe Stiles was waiting for her in the front hall, which was why the doors were open. She started walking towards the school, the other two following her.

“He asked you to meet him here, alone?” Lydia asked, a smirk crossing her face. Ramie rolled her eyes.

“I’m sure Scott’s here too,” She shot a glare towards Lydia. Ramie had never explicitly told Lydia about her feelings for Stiles, but the strawberry blonde wasn’t as clueless as she pretended to be in front of Jackson.

“Ew, you’re gonna hook up with that spaz with your brother around?” Jackson raised his eyebrows at Ramie.

“No!” Ramie nearly yelled. “Stiles and I are not hooking up, now, or ever. He’s my best friend.” “He totally likes you,” Lydia nearly sang. Ramie ignored her.

“Yeah, I’ve definitely seen him check out your ass a time too many,” Jackson scoffed. Ramie stopped on the stairs and turned around, giving Jackson a glare. He shrugged.

“You’re delusional,” Ramie nodded towards Jackson. He scoffed back. “He has a fat crush on your girlfriend, not me.” Ramie turned on her heel and started walking back towards the school again. Ramie had told Lydia many times that Stiles had a crush on her, but apparently Jackson hadn’t been let in on this information, because Ramie could hear him bickering with Lydia about Stiles as they made their way to the school.

“You guys can go now, I’ll get a ride home with Stiles,” Ramie said, turning when she go to the top of the stairs. Jackson went to turn and leave but Lydia grabbed his arm.

“Absolutely not,” She said, pulling his arm as she walked up the rest of the stairs. “This feels weird, I’m not letting you go in by yourself.” Ramie opened her mouth to protested but Lydia walked past her, holding Jackson’s hand and dragging him into the school. Ramie followed the couple with a sigh, looking around the lobby. It looked like no one was around.

“Stiles?” Ramie called into the darkness. Her voice echoed through the empty lobby.

“I don’t like this,” Lydia stated.

“You’re being dramatic,” Jackson rolled his eyes at his girlfriend. Ramie shushed them both, thinking she heard something. Lydia shrieked as someone burst through the doors to the left, that lead further down the hall. It was Stiles and Scott, looking very confused. It was Ramie’s turn to jump as a door burst open behind her, the one that lead to the pool. However again, it was someone they knew, Allison.

“What are you guys doing here?” Scott looked at all of them.

“You asked me to come,” Ramie and Allison said at the same time, Allison looking at Scott and Ramie looking at Stiles. Both boys furrowed their brows.

“I just got dragged here against my will,” Jackson said, earning a glare from everyone in the group. Ramie pulled out her phone and showed Stiles and Scott the text she received from Stiles, Allison doing the same. They both were exactly the same, yet both of the boys said they never sent it.

“Can we just go now, I’m freaked out,” Lydia said, walking towards the doors. Before anyone could answer, there was banging coming from above them. Ramie saw Allison grab Scott’s hand and Stiles’s stepped closer to Ramie, looking at Scott.

“Run!” Scott yelled, turning to run down the hallway. Stiles grabbed Ramie’s wrist, tugging her after them and Jackson and Lydia followed behind. The six sprinted through the school, looking for somewhere to hide. Ramie didn’t look behind her as Stiles dragged her along, but she definitely heard growling from whatever it was that was following them. Ramie assumed it must be the alpha. They finally rushed into a classroom, throwing things up against the door to block out whatever was chasing them.

“Guys,” Stiles called, no one listening as they kept stacking desks and chairs in front of the door. Ramie turned to him, her gaze following his. He was staring at the opposite wall, which was entirely made of windows. Glass certainly wouldn’t keep out what was following them. Ramie and Stiles both continued to try and get everyone else’s attention, which didn’t work until Stiles yelled at all of them.

“Great job guys, really, great work, but what should we do about the 20 foot wall of windows?” He dramatically gestured towards the wall.

“Shit,” Jackson muttered. And Ramie nodded, as if to agree with him.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on because I’m really freaked out,” Allison said, near tears and clutching Scott’s arm. Lydia was clinging to Jackson and Ramie suddenly felt awkward, taking a step away from Stiles and sitting down on top of a desk, rubbing her hands over her face. Scott gave Stiles a panicked look, walking over to the desk next to Ramie’s and leaning over, putting his elbows on it and placing his head in his hands.

“Somebody killed the janitor,” Stiles said suddenly, walking forward. Ramie noticed his hand scratching at the side of his jeans and knew he was either extremely nervous, or lying. Or both. Lydia let out a squeak that almost sounded like a “what?” “Yeah, he’s dead.” Stiles continued, Scott visibly shaking and not saying a word. Ramie hopped off the desk and walked over to him, rubbing his back.

“Who did it?” Allison asked.

“No this was supposed to be over,” Lydia stuttered. “After the mountain lion this-“

“Don’t you get it, there was no mountain lion,” Jackson interrupted her.

“Who is it?” Allison said, a little too loudly for Ramie’s liking, considering they were supposed to be hiding. Allison’s eyes didn’t leave the back of Scott’s head, who was still breathing heavy despite Ramie’s attempt to comfort him. She could see he was on the verge of tears. “Scott!”

“Uh, I, I don’t know,” Scott stammered, turning around but not looking anyone in the eye. “If we go out there he’s gonna kill us.”

“Us? Who?” Lydia questioned, still clung to Jackson.

“Who is it?” Allison demanded, looking between Scott and Stiles. Stiles’ mouth opened and closed a few times, clearly thinking of something to say.

“It’s Derek Hale,” Scott said after a second. Ramie’s head snapped to him, probably too quickly. She made eye contact with Stiles, who looked just as shocked as she was. “It’s been Derek the whole time, he’s killed everyone. And if we don’t get out of here, he’s going to kill us too.”

…

After Lydia attempted to call the police, much to Stiles’ dismay, and failed, Ramie, Stiles, and Scott were bickering as quietly as possible in the corner of the classroom.

“Derek? That's the best you could do?” Ramie glared at her brother. “You could’ve just said it was a stranger.”

“It doesn’t matter, Derek’s dead anyways so they’ll never know the difference,” Scott explained.

“Dead?” Ramie said, probably a bit too loudly. Stiles reached out quickly, putting a hand over her mouth. He dropped it after a second and gave the two boys a sheepish look. “The alpha killed him?” The boys nodded at her.

“Okay, assheads,” Jackson stepped towards the trio. “How about Stiles just calls his useless Dad and he can get us out of here.” Stiles rolled his neck and tightened his jaw, giving Jackson a glare.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Ramie said, stepping towards Jackson.

“He’s right,” Scott said to Stiles as he grabbed Ramie’s arm, not allowing her to step closer to Jackson.. “Tell him the truth if you need to.”

“I’m not having my Dad come here just to watch him get his head ripped off,” Stiles spat back at Scott, clearly getting frustrated. He shook his head, stepping away from Scott.

“Alright, give me the phone,” Jackson stepped forward, grabbing Stiles arm. The second Jackson grabbed Stiles’ arm, Stiles turned, punching Jackson in the face, hard.

“Jackson!” Allison yelled, running forward to help him while Scott pushed Stiles back, holding him away from Jackson. Ramie just stood there with her mouth open. She glanced at Lydia, who was looking at Allison and Jackson, who were now both crouched on the floor, Allison’s arm around Jackson. Stiles caught Ramie’s eye and she gave him a look that she hoped he understood. He seemed to, because he pulled out his phone, dialing his Dad, but only getting his voicemail.

As Stiles was trying to leave a message for his Dad banging began on the door. Ramie took off first, leaving the classroom through a different exit and running down the hallway, finding another classroom to hide in, the rest following her.

“We need to do something,” Jackson said after they locked and barricaded the door in the new classroom.

“What about this?” Ramie was pulling on the handle of a door to the roof, but it was locked. “We could go up the roof and down the fire escape, we’d be in the parking lot quickly.”

“It’s dead-bolted,” Stiles pointed, at the door.

“I’ll go get the key off the janitor,” Scott said without hesitation.

“Are you crazy?” Ramie looked at her brother. “You’re not going out there.”

“There’s nothing else we can do,” Scott said, walking towards Allison, who looked like she could cry any second at Scott’s new announcement. “I’ll go get the keys and then we’ll be out of here."

“You need to at least bring some sort of weapon,” Allison nearly begged. Scott looked around, grabbing a pointer off the desk. If the situation wasn’t so serious, Ramie would’ve laughed out loud at her brother’s stupidity.

“Well it’s better than nothing!” Scott said, in protest to the dumbfounded looks everyone was giving him as he waved the pointer in front of him.

“There’s gotta be something else,” Stiles said, craning his neck to look around the classroom. Ramie noticed his right hand was shoved in his pocket since he punched Jackson.

“There is,” Lydia said, nodding towards the cabinet in the corner of the room, which held many different chemicals.

Minutes later, Lydia had made Scott a self-igniting molotov cocktail to bring with him as a weapon. Scott left a crying Allison and shaking Ramie behind, but went out to face the alpha. Lydia and Jackson sat with Allison while Stiles paced. Ramie looked up to see him with his back to the rest, inspecting his hand, flinching a bit when he tried to make a fist. As worried as she was for her brother, Ramie figured patching Stiles up could be a distraction.

“You’ve gotta stop doing this,” Ramie said to him, grabbing his good arm and dragging him to the back of the classroom, where there was a sink.

“Doing what?”

“Punching people,” Ramie made eye contact with him, giving him a disapproving look.

“Jackson deserved it,” He muttered. Ramie hummed in agreement, pulling Stiles’ hand under the water. His cuts from punching Derek had opened back up, and his hand definitely had bruising. Ramie was quiet as she dried his hand, bandaging it up carefully. She could feel his eyes on her the whole time, but she didn’t dare look up. If she met his honey colored eyes, she would turn to mush instantly, and with everything happening at the moment, she was more worried about Scott. Stiles mumbled a small thank you when Ramie finished.

“You’re always taking care of me,” Stiles chuckled. “Isn’t it supposed to be the guy taking care of the girl.”

“You’re my best friend Stiles,” Ramie placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll always do whatever I can to help you. And fuck those stupid gender roles anyways.” Stiles chuckled again and followed Ramie back towards the front of the room.

…

When Scott and Ramie got home, Ramie filled Scott in on what happened with Jackson, how he had a screaming fit like he was in pain after the alpha roared, and then was defensive about something weird on his neck, and Scott told Ramie what happened when he encountered the alpha and nearly killed all of them, but held himself back because of Allison. Scott also told Ramie that Allison had broken up with him once they had made it safely to the parking lot, since Stiles’ dad and other officers finally arrived. Allison had told Scott she didn’t feel like she could trust him. It seemed like the only good news was that Scott’s boss was not the alpha, and of course that they had all made it out alive.

Scott and Ramie stayed up late that night, talking. Scott finally told Ramie everything that had happened the day before from figuring out Allison was basically Scott’s anchor, to Scott keying a car and what happened with Derek.

“I miss talking like this,” Ramie said to him after they had caught each other up on everything. “We used to be inseparable and now sometimes I feel like we barely talk.”

“This wolf stuff is kind of ruining my life,” Scott sighed.

“You’re handling it way better than I could,” Ramie told him. “I would’ve ran away and lived in a wolf den far off in the woods by now.”

“You’d never leave me and Stiles behind,” Scott teased.

“Nah, I don’t need you guys,” Ramie shrugged, laughing with her brother. It was the first time she had seen him smile all night. “Allison will come around. I promise.” She told him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. He gave her a weak smile that didn’t look too convincing, and headed off to bed, Ramie following.

[underdressedgoth]

This is older art that I finally finished (it was first made in September before Goretober and I finally finish it like 2 months later)

I’m choosing now to properly introduce these kids (and a new one too) as the “Multiple Dimentional Craze” fanchildren. (this is going to be a very long post)

Sapphire

Parents: Morty and Riley *oc* Full Name: Sapphire ‘June’ Smith Nicknames: Saphie Birthday: November 17 Age: 16 Species: Human Blood Type: A+ Height: 5′7ft Sexuality: Lesbian Personality: Rude, Courageous, Rebellious, Loyal, Hot-headed, Impatient, Intelligent, Arrogant, Protective, Honest (very brutally honest), prideful, strong, confident, leader-like Powers: N/A Family: Morty *Father*, Rylie *Mother* [Out of the picture], Rick *Great-Grandfather*, Beth *Grandmother*, Jerry *Grandfather* and Summer *Aunt* Friends: Monster, Pinecone, Pineneedle, Mars, Mercury, Bruno, Leah and Josie Dating: Mayflower Likes: Her girlfriend, stir fry, the color magenta, warm foods, science related subjects, math related subjects, cats, sweet and salty foods Dislikes: Emiko, Evelyn, Takei, Victor, London, Samara, Morty, Samantha, P.J, Lee- you know what she hates like ⅞ of my fanchildren we could be here all day if I had to list everyone she doesn’t like, rain, wet items, spicy foods, sour foods, chunky things- okay so she really doesn’t like a lot of things either (you get the point) Other Things: -Her hair is naturally blue, Morty was concerned that she was Rick’s kid (considering the reason why they had split up), but nope. Morty’s her Dad. -Her parents are separated (Her mother cheated on Morty with multiple people) -She doesn’t like most people (it’s considered an accomplishment if someone managed to get on her good list. Which is -by the way- very small) -She pretty much hates Morty, a lot. She has a lot of resentment towards him, mainly because she hasn’t seen her mother since she was 5. (While Morty wants to tell her that he had tried to get her mother to see her, her mother is pretty much a dead-beat parent who doesn’t give a flying fuck that her daughter exists. He knows Sapphire probably won’t believe him) -While they may be friends, Sapphire likes to pick on and bully Mars. But just because she likes to bully him, doesn’t mean she won’t beat up a person who makes fun of him (it’s like a sibling-love thing. Everyone who has a sibling here should know what I mean) -She looks up to Rick, much to her family’s (including Rick’s) dismay, she always wanted to go adventuring with him but he always declines (thus making her frustrated) -Sometimes will steal things from her Great-Grandfather without him knowing until she’s already gone with it (one of the normal things she usually steals is the portal gun -While most of her friends have powers, she’s not jealous, in fact that only makes her more confident in herself since she knows how strong she really is (thus making her even more scary knowing that she’s just as strong as her powerful friends) -She has a soft spot for her friends and girlfriend -There are very few people on her bad list that she respects (one for example being Takei) -She’s pretty well known around her school as a girl who never knows when to step down, the amount of fights she was in prove said statement She has known Pinecone and Pineneedle since they were babies, Mayflower and Monster since 5, Mars since 6, Bruno and Mercury since 7

Monster

Parents: Wirt and The Beast Full Name: Monster ‘Edelwood’ Oak Nicknames: Monty Birthday: January 31 Age: 15 Species: Demon/Human Blood Type: [Redacted] Height: 5′8ft Sexuality: Heterosexual Personality: Calm, Collected, Optimistic, Peaceful, Caring, Protective, Observant, Quiet, Diplomatic, Introverted, Fair-Minded Powers: +Plant Talk- Can talk to plants and understand what they’re saying +Nature control- Able to control any plant around her or even make pants appear out of nowhere +Shadow Camouflage- Using her shadow form, she can blend into any surface she so chooses as long as she doesn’t use it while in sunlight +Night vision- While using her real eyes, she can see clearly in the dark. It only works with her real eyes though, while in her human disguise she can’t see in the dark +Shape-shift- Whether it be in her human disguise or natural form, she can also turn into any animal she can think of +Enhanced smell- Can smell twice as good as a blood-hound. Helps when smelling for blood or souls +Angel’s Voice- Like with the beast, she can sing to draw prey towards her along with drain any bravery or hope from them +Underwater breathing- Can breathe underwater (she didn’t know she could until the age of 6 when Mars went out too far and nearly drowned. Wirt nearly had a heart-attack that day but was grateful she could do that) Family: Wirt *Father*, Beast *Father*, Sara *Step-mother*, Max *little half-brother*, Lantern *little half-sister*, Greg *Uncle* Friends: Sapphire, Mayflower, Pinecone, Pineneedle, Bruno, Mars, Mercury, Armory, Echomain Crush: Mars Likes: Tea, Poety, Nature, Music, Rivers, Exploring, Her Family and Friends, Old Things, Books, Walking through the woods, Singing, cold weather, English subjects, Art, Musicals Dislikes: Very hot weather, her friends/family getting injured, cheese (no one knows why, she just doesn’t like it), bright lights Other Things: -She’s carnivorous, won’t eat any plants unless she has to (a funny way to put it is that she’s like a reverse vegan) - Her favorite poet is Sara Teasdale - She got her love for poetry from Wirt, ever since she was a baby, Wirt would read poetry to her. Beast also would sometimes recite Shakespeare to her when she was a child while she visited him - She can easily retell Hamlet from memory word-for-word (she’s read and heard Shakespeare so many times that she can do that with any of his stories) - She’s in her school’s chorus (Known to be a very beautiful singer) - Her favorite type of music is Opera (no surprise there) - Once a week (sometimes two) every other month, she and Wirt would go visit the beast. Sara does know about this as she was there when the deal was first offered - She has never actually spent a halloween in the real world - Monster was born out of a giant flower - Sometimes out of habit from her demonic heritage, Monster will eat either a bird or small animal (Mayflower and Mars are the only ones who seem to freak out when that happens) - Has been playing Piano, cello, Clarinet and bass since she was little (she loves playing instruments) - Sometimes if she’s deep in thought, she’ll start talking in Shakespearean - Is an outcast at her school because people find her very weird with her personality and hobby with plants (Since she likes to whisper to them a lot). - - - - While Wirt may have reacted differently to a situation like hers, she doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. Nor does she acknowledge the insults other students will sometimes say about her. Sapphire on the other hand, has been in many fights because she refuses to let anyone bully her friend - Monster loves her half-siblings to death, she’ll do anything for them. Her brother Max sadly doesn’t like her since she gets most of Wirt’s attention - Her brother doesn’t know she’s not fully human, her sister on the other hand found out through her own ways (she’s very young so she’s fine with it, in fact she thinks Monster is cool and lucky to have powers as she wishes she had them too) -She’s mainly nocturnal, but since she can’t really sleep during the day often either, her body luckily managed to readjust itself so she doesn’t need to sleep often. - She doesn’t really express much inner emotions, so it’s not obvious that she has a crush on Mars (only people who know are Sapphire and Mayflower) - Has known Pinecone and Pineneedle since they were babies, Mayflower since she was 4, Bruno and Mercury since 5, Mars since 6 and Sapphire since 4 - She’s considered a theater kid (the theater kids are probably the only ones out of her school who actually like her) - Funny thing, she can walk on water (another thing to add, it took Wirt forever to let her into the water, he was just that terrified if she drowned.) -She can’t see well in bright lighting, her eyes don’t adjust well to it -She sees Sara like an actual mother to her -Seems to bleed Oil,Gold and Blood

Mayflower

Parents: Connie and Spinel Full Name: Mayflower ‘Spinel’ Maheswaran-Universe Nick names: May, Curly, Petal Birthday: February 28 Age: 14 Species: Gem/Human Blood Type: [Redacted] Height: 5′3ft Sexuality: Bisexual Personality: Self-conscious, Joyful, Caring, Nurturing, Optimistic, Friendly, sometimes nervous, self-less, strong Powers: + Rejuvinator- can easily pull out her own rejuvinator from her gem (it can also double as a weapon to fight against other creatures, electrocuting and cutting any enemy she swings it at) +Stretchy Limbs- Like her mother Spinel, she can stretch any part of her body (as long as she doesn’t over do it, she’s fine) + Fusion- like her father Steven who is also half-gem, she can fuse with any gem or human Family: Spinel *Mother*, Connie *Mother*, Steven *Step-Father*, Nicholas *Older Half-Brother*, Stephen *Little Half-Brother*, Greg *Little Half-Brother*, Greg *Step-Grandfather*, Pink Diamond/Rose Quartz *Step-Grandmother*, Priyanka *Grandmother*, Doug *Grandfather* Friends: Pinecone, Pineneedle, Mercury, Bruno, Mars, Monster Dating: Sapphire Likes: Dancing, Singing, Traveling the Multiverse, Animals, any romantic comedy or novels, painting, Homeworld, space travel, space itself, anything funny, gardening Dislikes: Her looks, Monster attempting to eat a small creature, abandon buildings, taking pictures of herself (she gets flustered from them), horror movies, silence, being alone, blood, anyone getting hurt Other Things: -She isn’t really one who is confident with her looks, she isn’t exactly thin (she’s kinda chubby) and it does bother her sometimes (Sapphire still loves her to death and will kill anyone who makes fun of her girlfriend without hesitation or remorse. Sapphire would do anything for and I mean anything) -She and Sapphire have been dating for about 2 years now (for the one who has confessed their love to the other, they both were just flustered stuttering messes as Sapphire sucks with emotions besides anger and Mayflower is not one who has confidence) - Her older brother doesn’t like her, she tries her best, just like Monster with her own brother, to get her brother to not hate her (he’s just edgy) - She has her own gem, a spinel like her mother Spinel’s (spinel didn’t give up her form, it turns out from what I heard, Rose didn’t have to give up her form for Steven. So I am just using that idea for here too) - Since Steven, Spinel and Connie are in a polygamous relationship, Steven likes to help Mayflower understand her own powers since he can relate of course) - I can definitely assure that the Diamonds like to smother her and her brothers with love since they are Spinel’s and Steven’s kids (same can go with Pearl) - Doesn’t seem like it to others, but Mayflower is really strong, she can lift a lot since she likes to work out sometimes

Pinecone

Parents: Bill and Dipper Full Name: Pinecone ‘Pyramid’ Cipher-Pines Nick names: Pinie, PC, Creepy, Gremlin #1, Cone Birthday: May 23 Age: 13 Species: Demon/Human Blood Type: [Redacted] Height: 5ft Sexuality: Heterosexual Personality: Creepy, Hyper, Observant, Extroverted, Goofy, Creative, observant, curious, courageous, adventurous, chaotic good, crafty Powers: +Shapeshift- Can shape-shift into anything from her demon form to any small objects +Portals- Can manifest a portal to the multiverse +Enhanced smell- can smell better than humans +Telekinesis- Move things with her mind +Floating- Can float Family: Bill *Father*, Dipper *”Mother”*, Pineneedle *Twin brother*, Gravity *Little brother*, Falls *Little sister*, Mabel *Aunt*, Pacifica *Aunt*, Aqua Marie *Cousin*, Manuel *Cousin*, Tala Poly *Aunt*, Lillusion *Aunt* Friends: Sapphire, Mayflower, Monster, Bruno, Mars, Mercury, Gabriel, Flint Crush: Max Likes: Forests, Dark areas, Halloween, Bugs, Camping, Fire, Bones, Traveling through dimensions and universes, anything sugar, Tad Strange, scissors, disturbing things, Birch trees Dislikes: Being Normal, having to sit still, London (surprisingly), snobby people, having to pretend to be human, pineapples, fancy things (finds them boring) Other Things: -Is older than Pineneedle by 6 minutes - Tad Strange is her’s and Pineneedle’s teacher (secretly since Bill hates Tad) - While she likes Monster’s little brother, most people will say she has a very “strange” way of showing her affection towards her (that being a very creepy way, what I mean is that she’ll say the creepiest things to him since she for some reason “finds his face adorable when it looks scared”) (she won’t hurt him, just freak him out. Added note, he doesn’t like her at all. Her love for him is very one-sided. But she is determined to win him over one day) - She and Pineneedle were not planned, they kinda just happened by accident (their parents still love both of them none-the-less) - Knows about other fanchildren in other universes, enjoys talking to them

Pineneedle

Parents: Bill and Dipper Full Name: Pineneedle ‘Illuminati’ Cipher-Pines Nick names: PN, Gremlin #2, Pointer, Needle Birthday: May 23 Age: 13 Species: Demon/Human Blood Type: [Redacted] Height: 5ft Sexuality: Aromantic/bisexual Personality: Creepy, Hyper, Observant, Extroverted, Goofy, Creative, chaotic, courageous, adventurous, Chaotic good, disobedient Powers: +Shapeshift- Can shape-shift into anything from her demon form to any small objects +Portals- Can manifest a portal to the multiverse +Enhanced smell- can smell better than humans +Telekinesis- Move things with her mind +Floating- Can float Family: Bill *Father*, Dipper *”Mother”*, Pinecone *Twin sister*, Gravity *Little brother*, Falls *Little sister*, Mabel *Aunt*, Pacifica *Aunt*, Aqua Marie *Cousin*, Manuel *Cousin*, Tala Poly *Aunt*, Lillusion *Aunt* Friends: Sapphire, Mayflower, Monster, Bruno, Mars, Mercury, Gabriel, Flint Crush: N/A Likes: Anything creepy, slim, spiders, snakes, mice, being crazy, scaring others, Tad Strange Dislikes: Having to be “normal”, not using his powers, rules, girly things Other Things: -Almost like he’s Pinecone’s other half, sharing similar personalities and abilities - He’s the younger twin - Where ever one twin is, the other follows (Pinecone and Pineneedle are rarely apart) - The more troublesome of the two (and that is saying something) - While Pinecone likes Max, Needle just likes to scare him - He can be very spiteful - Thinks love is gross (doesn’t understand it) - likes to skateboard with Mercury - He and Pinecone have known everyone since they were babies (they’re the little siblings of the group)

Mars

Parents: Dib and Zim Full Name: Mars ‘Irken’ Membrane Nick names: Nerd, Markie, Dork (<--- Two are from Sapphire) Birthday: July 15 Age: 16 Species: Alien/Human Blood Type: [Redacted] Height: 5′8ft Sexuality: Heterosexual Personality: Introverted, Anxious, Intelligent, Quiet, Friendly, Nerdy, Dorky Powers: +Breath in space- Yeah, that’s the only thing I think he can do Family: Zim *Parent*, Dib *Father*, Zoey *Little Sister* Gaz *Aunt*, Tak *Aunt*, Dr.Membrane *Grandfather* Friends: Sapphire, Mayflower, Monster, Mercury, Bruno, Pinecone, Pineneedle Crush: Monster Likes: School (because he likes learning), technology, building things, studying, science and math related subjects Dislikes: Sapphire’s rage, moving quickly, the dark (he’s scared of it), oranges (hates the smell), Gym (he’s not that strong) Other Things: -Often gets picked on by Sapphire (though they do have their moments where they get along) (he’s not scared of her, just annoyed) - While Dib may be a proud space scientist, Mars prefers not to be acknowledged as his son for some odd reason - He doesn’t enjoy fighting other creatures, he can handle it, just doesn’t like it like the others do - He has motion sickness, move way too quickly and he’ll get nauseous - Sapphire is the reason for why he’s scared of the dark - He wears make-up to hide the green parts of his skin (the only time he doesn’t is in Gravity falls) - He has only been to space once, didn’t have fun at all (1/10 wouldn’t recommend) - Monster gave him his beanie for his birthday a few years ago, he loves it - He’s your typical shy nerd

Mercury

Parents: Star and Jackie Full Name: Mercury ‘Lynn‘ Butterfly Nick names: Flutter, Wings, Meri, Sparkles Birthday: August 2 Age: 15 Species: Mewman/Human Blood Type: [Redacted] Height: 5′6ft Sexuality: Pansexual Personality: Out-going, extroverted, bashful, prideful, forceful, somewhat thoughtless at times, crafty, wild Powers: +Butterfly- Butterfly form from Mewberty +Magic wand- since it’s connected to her powers they have similar spells (I am not going to list them because that’ll take too long) Family: Star *Mother*, Jackie *Mother*, Moon *Grandmother*, River *Grandfather* Friends: Sapphire, Mayflower, Monster, Mars, Bruno, Pinecone, Pineneedle, Samantha, Anne, Evelyn, Gabriel, Black Taffy- she’s pretty much the opposite of Sapphire when it comes to people, she has a lot of friends Crush: Samantha Likes: Glitter (a lot), Shiny things, roller-blading, magic, Mewni, crazy things, summer, bright collars, dancing, sugar, hot coco, socializing, parties Dislikes: Unicorns (from her experience with them, you’d hate them too), Fairies (again, from her experience with them, you wouldn’t blame her), gnomes, garden gnomes (don’t ask), bland foods, snakes, magical high commission, her ex boyfriend (oh how the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree) Other Things: -Just going to ignore what happened in the finale because I personally thought it sucked and was a terrible way to end a series. Mercury is the heir to the Butterfly throne. - While she is a girl who can easily make friends, she is one who also tends to loose some due to her nature, she doesn’t understand boundaries and tends to drive people away occasionally - She knows a lot of Royal people and will 100% try to befriend any princes or princesses while she can - She loves to talk, a lot, she is very rarely quiet and it tends to drive Sapphire crazy and threaten to duck-tape her mouth shut - Sometimes the others think she depends on her want a little too much, because she uses it all the time even when she doesn’t need too at all - Despite being a very confident girl, when it comes to interacting with her crush (Samantha), she’s a stuttering flustered mess - Please don’t give her sugar

Bruno

Parents: Tom and Marco Full Name: Bruno ‘Julius‘ Lucitor-Diaz Nick names: Bunny, Demon-boy, Lucitor, Horns (<--- Most of these are from Sapphire) Birthday: March 30 Age: 16 Species: Demon/Mewman/Human Blood Type: [Redacted] Height: 5′8ft Sexuality: Heterosexual Personality: Calm, Brave, Determined, Good-hearted, Responsible, Dare-devil, Leader-like, Assertive (when needed), Confident Powers: +Fire- able to produce fire from hands and have it spread to anywhere on his body Family: Tom *Father*, Marco *Father*, Juliet *little sister*, Mariposa *Aunt*, Rafael *Grandfather*, Angie *Grandmother*, Wrathmelior *Grandmother* and Dave *Grandfather* Friends: Sapphire, Mayflower, Pinecone, Pineneedle, Monster, Mars, Mercury, Black Taffy, Josie, Jack Jr, Crush: N/A Likes: Biking, fire, Tacos, Nachos, Magical creatures, adventure, Ice-skating Dislikes: Math, school, fancy parties, dressing up, London, Mercury on sugar Other Things: -He’s sorta bad at judging things -Often butts heads with Sapphire due to both of their desires to lead the friend group - He has a third eye hidden under his hair -Has three moles in a row from largest to smallest under his right eye - Has his own pair of Dimensional scissors - Lives in the Underworld as the prince and heir to the throne - Is the only one besides Pinecone, Pineneedle and Monster, who is able to handle Mercury - Has known Mercury since the day of her birth, Pinecone and Pineneedle since they were babies, Sapphire since 7, Monster since 6 - He doesn’t really like most demons or hybrids, most of the time they’re too crazy for him to deal with (he already has to deal with 3 crazy people almost everyday. He’s good) - He’s pretty good at flattering people, he’s calls it his “secret weapon” - He likes to consider Sapphire as his rival (Sapphire feels the same way towards him) I’ll admit I got lazy with some parts because writing this was taking too long after loosing a good chunk of progress and having to redo some profiles because of it. This would have been posted sooner if it weren’t for that.

[anotherdayinchuckletown]

They’re Funny That Way, Chapter 1

Hey, guys! How’s it going? I’ve been writing for about ten years now, but this is only the second ever fic I’ve shared anywhere, so I’m super nervous!!!  

This is basically my take on a Harley Quinn origin story tailored to the universe of Joker (2019).  It’s going to be Harley like we’ve never seen her before, with lots of Arthur, lots of Sophie, lots of original characters, and lots of twists and turns.

I’m SO beyond excited to finally share this with you guys, and I hope you all enjoy! Please like, comment, reblog if you do so that I know if you guys love reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it!  This fic is also posted to my AO3 account (https://archiveofourown.org/users/marie_deneuve), so you can also read it there if you’d like!

Without further ado, heeeere we go!!

Chapter 1

 The apartment building at Eleven-Forty Anderson Avenue is an eyesore situated in the midst of a likewise ugly city called Gotham. A pimple on a face only a mother could love. A pariah among pariahs.

Management has long since stopped caring about its maintenance, leaving it a patchwork of leaking ceilings, cracking foundations, and broken windows haphazardly boarded shut. Even the most seasoned resident of Gotham City would quicken his pace when passing the telltale archways which separate the apartments from the rest of the city.

Sophie Dumond is currently doing her best to avoid saying any of that out loud.

“It’s really not that bad,” she lies. “Definitely a far cry from where you’re living now, but once you get used to it, it’s not the worst.” Although she is on the phone, she looks down at her shoes anyway, so as not to look her guilt in the face. A crack in the tile beneath her feet stares back accusingly.

“Really? My brother told me his appliances never work, and the maintenance crew is impossible to reach,” the voice on the other line replies skeptically. It belongs to another young woman by the name of Emma Boulanger – Emma Scott, actually, ever since her marriage – who has been Sophie’s best friend since the two of them met in elementary school. She is also the godmother of Sophie’s five-year-old daughter, which was an unpopular decision she had been made to justify more times than she would have liked (honestly, though, her sister could call her if she ever became less of a pretentious bitch).

This phone call marks the first time Sophie has heard from her in one month, two weeks, and six days. Not that she’s been counting or anything.

It’s just strange not to talk to her, as she’s always the first to know of any big changes in her friend’s life. Emma is certainly the first to know about changes in Sophie’s life as well. She’s there when they both open up their letters of acceptance into Gotham University, whooping and cheering and dreaming of finally, finally leaving this shithole, getting glamorous jobs in the big city. She’s there when Sophie is curled up on her bathroom floor, crying and clutching a positive pregnancy test, wanting the best for the child growing inside of her, yet fearing she would never be able to provide it.

That’s why it’s so odd when Emma’s twin brother is the one to mention in the hallway one day that his sister has filed for divorce. And furthermore, that she’s returning to Gotham to live with him until she gets back on her feet.

“Like I said, Emma, it’s not perfect,” she relents. “But hey, at least it’ll be nice to hang out again. It’s been way too long.”

“Yeah, it really has! I moved, what, almost two years ago?” Emma’s voice brightens marginally, and Sophie can nearly see the lopsided grin spreading across her face, so familiar is she with every tic, every tell, every minuscule inflection to her words. “Metropolis is boring as hell, by the way. I almost miss Gotham - call me crazy.”

Sophie huffs, knowing full well that Emma is playing it cool - trying not to let on how much she dreads moving back to a city she called a living, breathing prison for so many years. Best to keep things lighthearted then. Empathize with her, acknowledge her feelings, but never, never pity her. “You’re definitely crazy, Em,” she shoots back, raising an eyebrow. “What exactly does it for you, the enormous rats or the graffiti dicks?”

An almost imperceptible chuckle filters through the receiver. “Well, no one ever really escapes Gotham, do they? I figure I might as well develop a little Stockholm Syndrome.”

Sophie doesn’t immediately respond to the bleak sentiment. It’s simply a joke, of course, and as a matter of fact, very on-brand. But there’s enough truth to it to cause a momentary lapse in the lightness of their conversation.

Sophie has found gradually that Emma was right growing up. Gotham truly seems less like a place and more like an entity. It has a certain way of taking, taking, taking from a person, and when that person has nothing left to give, taking just a little bit more. The citizens meander like restless spirits, doomed to wander to and from their low-wage jobs for eternity. The air is heavier out there, tugging their faces down into sour expressions, aging them prematurely. A reflection of their surroundings.

Sophie often wonders if she looks the way they do.

If Emma notices the shift – which she certainly does, she always does – she politely ignores it. “I guess beggars can’t be choosers… It was nice of Eddie to let me stay with him on such short notice.” Fondly, she adds, “He may be a bit of a shithead, but he’s a good brother.”

Before Sophie can stop herself, she laughs aloud. “No comment. We do live on the same floor, you know.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Do you two ever hang out?”

“Not particularly.” Sophie doesn’t dislike Eddie – quite the opposite, in fact. She always chalks up her lack of chemistry with him to simply having nothing in common. He and Emma share nothing but a birthday, a head of golden hair, and a pair of striking ice-blue eyes.

Rapid footsteps make their way into the foyer, breaking Sophie out of her reverie. “Mommy, look what I drew!”

Muttering a quick “hang on a second” into the receiver, she turns toward the source of the sound, and a sheet of paper is practically shoved in her face from below. She is met with a mish-mosh of various shapes and colors, one large brown figure taking precedence in the middle of the page.

She smiles warmly. “Wow, that’s very good, Gigi! What’s that a picture of?”

The artist beams with pride. “It’s the roach you killed in the bathroom yesterday!”

Son of a bitch.

“Can we put it on the fridge, Mommy?”

Blinking owlishly, Sophie scrambles for a response. They really don’t teach her this shit in those parenting books she sometimes finds at Gotham Central Library.

She settles on, “Honey, you already have so many nice ones up there, I just can’t decide which ones to keep! Let’s put this one away for now, and I’ll think about it, okay?” She offers her free hand to take the drawing so that she can accidentally misplace it later.

It does the trick. “Okay!” her daughter chirps, proudly handing over her portrait. Encourage, then swiftly change the subject – a motherly sort of manipulation that works in everyone’s favor.

“Holy shit, I haven’t even asked about Gigi yet!” Emma exclaims. “God, she must be getting so big! She starts Kindergarten this year, right?”

“Yeah, in the fall. And she comes all the way up to my waist now, isn’t that insane?” Unmistakable pride colors Sophie’s response.

“That’s so awesome! Did she miss me at all?” comes over the receiver as Gigi simultaneously begins an onslaught of “who’s that, Mommy, who’s that?”

“Miss you? Are you kidding? Listen to this.” Sophie crouches next to her daughter, holding the phone away from her ear, but nearby so that Emma can hear. “Gigi, your Aunt Emma’s on the phone. She’s coming to live here again soon, isn’t that great?”

The resounding shriek is a good indicator that she agrees. And that Sophie is going to have to bring the neighbors another gift basket so they don’t complain about her to the landlord.

“Can I talk to Aunt Emma, Mommy? Can I, can I, please, please, please?” Tiny, impatient hands grapple for the phone as laughter pours in from the other line.

“Come on, if I let you talk to her now, we’ll be stuck here forever.” A quick glance at the clock reveals that it’s nearing eight o'clock. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for bed soon?”

Gigi wrinkles her nose in distaste, and Sophie cuts her off before the complaints can begin. “No arguments, Gigi. Go start your bath – I’ll be there in just a minute.”

She receives a defiant huff; nevertheless, Gigi stomps her way to the bathroom, and Sophie waits for the sound of running water before she returns to the previous conversation.

“So anyway, Eddie tells me you’re holed up in a hotel room until the weekend. I’m guessing that Daniel didn’t take the…the breakup news very well?” she asks, somewhat cautiously. Talking about Emma’s husband – now ex-husband – is a mixed bag, even back when they were dating.

“You could say that,” Emma responds sheepishly. “It wasn’t pretty, let’s leave it at that. I thought it would be best for me to get out of the house right away, give him some time to himself.”

It makes Sophie nervous that she is skirting the question, but then again, Emma’s in a vulnerable position at the moment. And she’s rarely one to talk at length about her own emotions in the first place – she’s much more of a listener.

Sophie would like to ask what she means by “it wasn’t pretty”, but decides against prying. She would also like to ask why she ever married that jackass in the first place, since their relationship had been obviously strained from day one. It was always as if the two of them were tightrope walking over a volcano – bubbling quietly, boiling and threatening to swallow them both whole. The smallest change in the wind, the most harmless comment about Daniel not picking his towel up off the floor could send them tumbling into the inferno. She supposes one of them finally fell.

Something about that man has always creeped her out, but she gave up voicing her discontent with him after about the thirtieth time Emma brushed her off. She won’t say “I told you so”, since she wouldn’t want to belittle whatever pain Emma is going through. Still, she can’t help but feel a little relief – that doesn’t make her a terrible friend, right?

All of this can wait, though. It can wait until they’re seeing each other face-to-face again. Until Sophie isn’t on a strict time limit. She needs to wrap up the current conversation quickly because if she doesn’t, she could possibly be dealing with a flooded bathroom shortly. Five-year-olds do not generally care about the cost of repairing water damage if it seeps into the downstairs neighbor’s ceiling.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, with…you know…everything.”

“Of course!” Emma reassures her. “I’m perfectly fine. Like I said, I’m looking forward to being home. Honestly.”

Sophie is not convinced, and frankly, it sounds like Emma is not either. She wonders if her friend has been checking in on the worsening condition of their hometown from Metropolis. The homeless population is growing by the day, and the working class is becoming more and more restless due to low wages and poor working conditions in the inner city. Rumor has it that sanitation workers are chief among the dissatisfied, and a garbage strike is all but guaranteed by winter.

So much she wants to say. So much she can’t say. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

 _______________________________________________________________

Emma remembers around this time last year taking a trip to Paris, France. She saw the premiere of a musical there called Les Misérables – it was based off of her favorite book by Victor Hugo, so naturally, she begged and begged to go.

And what a payoff! The show was spectacular, from the costumes to the stage design to the music. Oh, the music! Despite being there with her then-husband, she had the most fun she’d had in years, letting the melancholy chords turn her as light as the air and the lyrics carry her far, far away in the wind.

Even more than the music, she was captivated by the plot. She could practically feel the plight of the poverty-stricken citizens. One of the opening scenes depicted the starving masses singing of their grief over the way they were snubbed by the wealthy, left to rot in the streets.

That is the scene Emma finds herself stepping into today. Only this time, she is not a passive observer, watching the events unfold without being affected. From today on, she is one of the characters.

From the moment she arrives in downtown Gotham City by taxi, the tension claws at her with icy hands. It digs into her ribcage with each glare aimed her way, even in the mild September breeze. She knows she sticks out like a preacher at a Pride parade in her obviously expensive skirt and heels. It’s not like she had time to go digging around her closet for something more appropriate that night she left her house.

Handsomely tipping her driver, she climbs out of the car and rushes underneath a set of archways and inside the apartment building where she’ll be living for the foreseeable future. She doesn’t look very closely at it from the outside, so desperate is she to get off the street and away from whatever the hell that smell is.

Emma uses the opportunity to finally look around a bit, taking her surroundings in with narrowed eyes. The lobby is dimly-lit, with no color to it whatsoever. The walls are painted a chipped-up brownish yellow, which could have been white many years ago. It reeks of mold, to the point where the smell outside might be the lesser of the two evils.  

Leaning carefully against the nearest wall, she mutters, “Not that bad, my ass.” From her purse, she retrieves her recently-purchased copy of a new novel titled Jumanji, and she waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

…

…

…

Emma’s eyes snap open - she hadn’t consciously closed them to begin with. She realizes with embarrassment that she almost fell asleep standing up. God, she’s more exhausted than she thought. How long has she been standing down here anyway?

“I’ll be home from work around four; I just need a little time to tidy up before you head over,” Eddie had said on the phone the night before. “I’ll meet you in the lobby and walk you up at six, okay?”

“That works,” Emma had replied. “As long as you’re actually there at six.”

“Hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve never exactly had a reputation for being punctual.”

“Jesus, Em. You think I’m gonna leave you hanging out down there alone?”

“We’ll see.”

Shutting her book, Emma checks her watch.

Six forty-five. That fucking flake forgot.

She groans, pushing herself languidly off the wall and scanning the room for assistance. No one at the front desk - in fact, there hasn’t been anyone there since she arrived, making her wonder briefly if she’s even in the right building.

Her eyes next land on the myriad of mailboxes against the opposite wall, closed off from the rest of the lobby by rusted wrought-iron bars, most likely to protect the postman. She walks through the open gate tentatively, and upon closer inspection, each mailbox has a sticker labeling the residents by apartment number. Bingo!

It doesn’t take long to find what she’s looking for. On the eighth floor, perfectly spelled out for her, she sees both S. Dumond in 8B and E. Boulanger in 8H. Why not visit the one who didn’t leave her stranded for an hour first? She could always call Eddie on Sophie’s phone anyway - the asshole probably smoked a joint as soon as he got home and passed out on the couch watching Magnum, P.I.

She heads for the elevator and presses the call button. As it whines slowly and almost menacingly down the shaft, she hears someone softly trudging along behind her, the very first sign of another life in here. As she enters the elevator, she politely holds the door open, and makes room for the clown getting on after her.

No, not a silly person. An actual clown. Painted face, red nose, neon green hair and all.

Of all the weird people she might expect to see in a place like this… Not even two hours in Gotham, and the evening is already shaping up to be quite the roller coaster.

Emma can’t help but stare as the doors shut and the clown punches the button for, coincidentally, the eighth floor. She settles into the far corner as she discreetly analyzes him. His posture, his defeated gait, the pitiful expression underneath his painted-on smile… His aura permeates the entire space, seemingly enough to weigh them both down, causing the elevator to drag slowly up the shaft like molasses, screeching all the way.

This is without a doubt the saddest clown Emma has ever seen. And she’s seen Pagliacci.

Around the third floor, there’s one long, particularly loud screech. Emma’s heart leaps to her throat as their ascent suddenly comes to a complete halt, and the lights in the tiny elevator space flicker on and off once. Is a three-story drop enough to kill a person her size? She prays that this isn’t how it ends - in this dingy elevator, terrified, with no one but a fucking clown. A clown who hasn’t moved an inch this entire time.

Thankfully, after a few seconds that seem to drag on for a lifetime, they start to slowly crawl up the shaft once more. Emma breathes an audible sigh of relief, and the clown seems to finally notice her, tossing a quick look of sympathy in her general direction.

Once she’s certain she can speak without her voice quivering, she does so. “Does…that happen often?”

Her voice really gets his attention. He whips his head around so fast she almost worries his little hat will come flying off like a frisbee. He blinks at her once, then twice, as if processing the fact that she is addressing him. For a split second, it looks like he’s going to say something.

Then, remembering himself, he simply shrugs bashfully. Emma lets out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s been holding.

She notices the decorative red flower adorning his lapel, one of those prop flowers that’s actually a tiny water gun. Smiling in a way that she hopes is charming instead of ill-at-ease, she points to it. “I, uh…I like your flower. It’s very pretty.”

The clown tilts his head curiously. After a beat, he wordlessly reaches up and into his bright plaid coat, holding said flower slightly out toward her. Offering for her to come closer, to lean in and smell it.

Emboldened, she grins, shaking her head at him. “No way, mister. I know how that trick ends.” She’s kidding around with him, but she really can’t afford to get her clothes wet right now; she only has the ones on her back, after all.

Still, his lips at last curl upward, a real smile that reaches the lights of his eyes. And it’s then that Emma can see the color in them, an enchanting seafoam green that inexplicably draws her in, pulling her away from the corner and toward his side. He watches her carefully and intensely with an expression she can’t quite read. When he turns to face the doors once more, it’s not without keeping her settled in his periphery.

Most people would probably be a bit nervous being…examined so thoroughly. However, Emma finds his mannerisms endearing in an odd way. She’s never cared much for clowns before, but this one doesn’t seem so bad.

They ride in comfortable silence for another few moments. When they reach their destination, Emma is the first to exit.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely taking the stairs from now on,” she says.

The clown nods in response as he exits behind her, giant red and blue shoes flopping comically over the threshold.

The hallway is a bit noisy, voices of the residents drifting through the paper-thin walls like a mist, creating a fine haze over everything. The walls are just a touch too close together, making Emma claustrophobic and urging her to get to 8B as quickly as possible.

Not wanting to come off as rude, she introduces herself. “I’m new to the building, by the way - my name’s Emma. It’s a pleasure.” She extends a hand to shake.

The clown does return the gesture, but not before staring her hand down for an abnormally long period of time. And his grip through the rough material of his gloves is so soft and careful, it’s as if it’s barely there.

She’d honestly like to chat with this fascinating new neighbor of hers a bit longer, but instead, she pulls her hand away, settling for a polite nod and a cheerful “good night”.

She does not look back to see that the clown’s unwavering gaze follows her all the way down the hall.

[egoiistas]

may i feel, said he (20)

first | tag | ao3 | ffn

[co-written with @tsaritsa]

a/n not six months this time! but there’s so.... SO much to unpack. so lets jump in. 

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of post partum depression Words: ~8.6k || Rated: M - Royai

CHAPTER 20

Before him, Greta Flores de la Vega stands in all her scarlet-accented glamour.

The sight of her catapults him into the darker corners of his mind and the whispers of the devil on his shoulder rises in volume. The years they’ve been officially separated are eradicated with the unbidden nostalgia of her features. Her almond shaped eyes are still as rich in mischief as they were the first time he came across them. The subtly complex way she carries herself: arms framing her curvaceous torso as one hand holds her elbow to allow the other to slyly touch the corner of her painted lips. She’s made it into an art. And in that curling smile, entire histories are indexed and tucked away, conjuring up memories of a different time. Different skin on skin and -

“Well? Do I at least get a proper greeting?”

He swallows down the thickness in his throat and he moves automatically. It’s the way everyone says hello - a hug and air kisses on each cheek, but she leaves a mark on one of his. Roy knows it’s a deliberate move on her part, because her smell ruins him, like a dog trained to salivate on physiological triggers, on command, and it feels like a wrench purposely thrown into a sentient machine doing its best to work efficiently. It’s been used against him many, many times before and he’d be a fool to ignore the jolt in his gut and mislabel it for fear instead of involuntary lust. What haunts him worst of all is that the subsequent emotions he wants to feel is horror and guilt. Not anticipation.

He hates that it works so stupendously; loves that Greta knows what she’s doing one hundred percent.  

Clearly, old habits die hard.

Before it can do any real damage, before he steps in closer and assume the behavior of his former self… Roy calls her by her given name to break the trance. Something flashes in her chestnut eyes unexpected to her and it pauses for a moment. The literal miracle of speaking her given name.

She hums, amused, and reaches to cup his jaw to give it a little shake. “Jester that you are.”

There’s a beat before he collects himself, becomes aware of the way his jaw is slack. He should have known. He should have known.

“I heard you weren’t coming,” he blurts out inelegantly. Perhaps not the right choice of words, considering the way Greta’s expression flickers, but Roy is too shocked and too confused to care.

She covers her mouth to hide her short laugh. “From whom?”

“Maes.”

Greta doesn’t obstruct the wide smile this time. The laughter spills into her words: “For all his intel experience and information gathering, I can’t imagine how he was ever good at his job. I guess that’s why he plays househusband now.” She pushes her long dark curls behind her ears, cocking her head to the side. “What? At least he knows I’m honest where it matters.”

“And what’s that even meant to mean? He’s made his opinion on you abundantly clear.”

“Last-minute change of plans worked out in my favour. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Or you.” she says softly. “Especially not after I missed Elicita’s birthday party” She looks beyond him for a moment, smiling, and he follows her gaze to where Maes and Gracia are. “What kind of godmother would I be?”

“You’re not her godmother.”

She waves a hand in the air flippantly. “So I wasn’t there for the ceremony. The kid will have padrinos for basically anything in her lifetime.

“And Maes…” She scrunches her face, the roundness almost makes it cute. “He has always been so black-and-white about issues. The man never leaves any chance to consider any side that isn’t his own, something that doesn’t earn him many points on this side of the family.” She shrugs, looking towards Maes and Gracia with a familiar expression. “A falta de pan, buenas son las tortas… so long as Gracia remains happy.”

“And that’s important to you?”

Greta turns back to him and scoffs. “More than to you, leaving family and friends behind. Poor Chris left worrying about you.”

Roy counts to five. The retort is on the tip of his tongue, just begging to be uttered. He wills his reaction to simmer. He knows this game. She knows him well, which buttons to press - their locations, circumference, and how well it gives when pressed. How to tease and touch...  All this he’s memorised from the playbook of their relationship, where he gives and she takes and takes and takes.

Except that’s not entirely true.

“Why are you here?”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” Greta says; the sweet tone returns to her voice. “For my dear cousin, her family-”

“No. why are you here? Don’t you have other people to say hello to?”

She doesn’t exactly frown, but she’s no longer smiling. Greta takes a calculated step closer, careful of the cobblestone. “I heard you were in Central that weekend.”

He pauses, taking a moment to scope any sign of unwarranted contact that might come about. “As the actual godparent - “

“And you didn’t tell me?” She cuts him off with another step.

This feeling, low in his gut: simmering, roiling - it’s twisting and changing, manifesting in physical ways that have him shifting his weight. On a logical level, Roy knows he shouldn’t be feeling any iota of attraction to the woman before him. But it’s viceral, entirely reactionary, no bearing on -

Roy looks down at her; the aroma now wafting towards him and he could almost see it materialize in his vision -  tendrils trying to curl around him, ensnare him. The only predictable thing about her was that she was unpredictable by nature. For the longest time he was content to sit back and let her act how she liked. Now… well, it was different.

“Wouldn’t you know that I’ve been in Central more times than you’ve been told?” He can feel the defiance surge through his body like electricity.

All the condescending mirth is wiped from her face as she frowns, pouts. Her expression changes as if she’s been offended to the point of exaggeration and she nudges his shoulder back. What he doesn’t anticipate is the person behind him. Roy stumbles to adjust his footing, an apology dying on his lips as he turns.

Riza. She blinks slowly, raising two glasses of sangria.

Before he can respond, Greta brushes her off and tells her in Spanish, “Girl we don’t want sangria, there’s mezcal at the bar. Be a darling and bring us two.” And then she snaps her fingers to gesture it should be done quickly.

He hates this tone, the higher lilt in her voice; the drawn-out syllables, the concentrated power she commands in them, and yet he’s grateful Riza can’t understand them.

To her credit, Riza doesn’t say anything, and merely passes him the glass. She’s waiting for him to introduce them, he realises with a start, and Roy quickly clears his throat.

“Riza, this is Greta.” His arm slips around her waist. “Greta, this is Riza. My girlfriend.”

Greta’s smile freezes momentarily before relaxing. Her eyes are wide as she offers her hand out - the diamonds on her right hand shimmer in the light. “You never told me you got yourself a girlfriend, conejito,” she teases, drawing close to kiss Riza’s cheeks affectionately, bypassing Riza’s outstretched hand entirely. The whole picture in front of him is incredibly surreal - not to mention that particular nickname being brought up.

“I thought you were told,” he says before taking a long sip from the glass.

“Nooo, no one tells me anything.” The elongated pronunciation and melody she adds to her whine gives her more of an accent than the light one she already had; it makes her sound approachable. She lightly taps Riza arms with the back of her hand to get Riza’s attention. “Can you believe the nerve? How rude of you to keep her from the family.”

Riza says something that sounds demure and meek but his attention is beyond the women before him and across the terrace and meets Maes’ eyes, which have narrowed to almost slits. He mouths something to Roy - he can’t read lips at this distance, but he doesn’t need to with the way Maes throws his hands up, all sharp angles and stiff movements. Clearly Greta had done a good job of sneaking onto the island with minimal fanfare - which when he thinks about it, is actually rather impressive for her considering her love of theatrics and the spotlight.

It doesn’t take long for Maes to make his way over to where they are, and the unpleasantness of his countenance subdues as he nears them, replaced with a smile plastered widely across his lips which never quite meets his eyes.

“I wondered where you had gotten to, Roy. Trust you to sequester away the beautiful woman you have and leave the rest of us wanting.” Maes turns to Riza, and his smile becomes marginally more honest, drawing her close to drop kisses on her cheeks. “It’s been too long Riza. Gracia and I are so glad you were able to help us celebrate.” He pulls back and his expression locks into place as he addresses the other member of their company. “And you’re here too Greta. Wonders never cease.”

“What do you expect? The last party you threw, I heard there was only chicken dancing.” She laughs at Maes’s expense. “How does it go?” Greta butchers the tune to the “Chicken Dance” and somehow manages to move her arms like wings with grace, chuckling the entire time and completely comfortable.

Riza makes a strangled noise next to him.

“Is Gracia teaching you nothing? Pobrecito…” Greta addresses Riza, “Hopefully, he’s teaching you some moves.”

“That’s great,” Maes interrupts before Riza can get a word in, voice dripping with disdain. “Gracia and I have some speeches planned for everyone and I think-” he cranes his neck back to his wife who signs the okay symbol over some guests’ heads, “we’re gonna start about now.” His hand claps onto Riza’s shoulder. “I’ll catch you two later.”

His abrupt exit leaves Roy with a sense of unease; he’s not stupid enough to recognise that that entire dismissal of Greta’s prescence wasn’t a warning in of itself but if anything it seemed to bolster the woman’s defiant attitude.

“Come, let’s get some seats - Maes will take a good hour to sob through whatever speech he has planned and I want to save my feet for dancing.” Greta takes hold of Riza’s hand before he can protest and Riza can only turn back to raise her eyebrows in alarm before the two of them disappear into a small crowd of people.

Roy finds them not too long afterwards, just as Gracia stands to speak. Greta is pointing at various people who Roy vaguely recognises as members of the Hughes and Flores clans and Riza nods along politely; though she flashes him a grateful smile when he sits in the chair next to her.

In contrast to the measured speech his wife gave, Maes gets increasingly drunk throughout his own. A shot before. A shot to their first date. And their first anniversary and now their fifth which they celebrate this day. And honestly, it’s the most entertaining thing Roy’s seen in a while -  a buffer to the shitshow this entire day has consisted of. There’s the obligatory powerpoint with star wipes and Elicia cheers every time her face is superimposed on the white stone. By a large margin it’s the sweetest part of the evening.

And yet, there’s a chill that Roy can’t quite shake despite the balmy temperatures with the sun now completely gone and the light illuminating overhead. He contemplates whether another beer will solve that problem when Maes’ words drag him firmly into the present.

“... and that is why this woman, this forking angel of a human being-” Roy takes another swig instinctively at the utterance of the not-swear. It was an old game they used to play in the academy, substituting the litany of swears they usually dealt with in favour of cleaner versions. As it turned out, it was a wonderful way to practice for the three year old in their presence now.

Gracia is frowning at her husband but Roy is intimately familiar with the shit-eating grin on his friend’s face; whatever she wanted to stop had left the station long ago.

“-is being so good and following all that medical training even though we had this planned out years in advance: in honour of your brave sacrifice I will raise two shots in your name.” Maes winks at the crowd and Gracia’s palm covers her face. “Because she can’t drink for a while yet,” he hedges, a grin splitting his mouth wide open. “Because my beautiful and wonderful wife is pregnant again and Elicia gets to be a big sister and I have been literally dying to tell each and every one of you! So… por favor raise your glasses for us and Elicia and for the cutest bun in the oven that has ever been made.”  

Roy processes the information slowly, feeling the smile grow on his face wider and wider. He stops staring off into the distance when he feels the touch of another hand on his own and Riza meets his eyes with an endearing smile - he imagines its the smile he had when he found her reading in the library.

There’s whooping and shouting around them - something started by Maes no doubt - but Riza grips his hands in hers, her thumbs running over his knuckles, focused entirely on his face. “Do you get first dibs again?” she teases, leaning closer. “I don’t really get how this whole ‘godparenting’ thing works but-”

He kisses her then, and maybe now wasn’t the best time to do so, but god if it didn’t feel right. She laughs against his mouth, and Roy takes the opportunity to snake his arm around her waist, coaxing her into his lap with only minimal effort. Her arms curl around his neck, fingers drifting into his hair. It is one, shining moment where all he can focus on is just how unequivocally happy he is. He knows to not look too deeply into her reaction - but it is the nature of it that bubbles over, makes him feel giddy with untempered energy. She’s happy because he’s happy. It’s in stark contrast to how he’s been made to feel before, how any celebration of fatherhood, psuedo or otherwise, was wrong and shameful.

Curiosity also takes the better of him and he catches sight of Greta’s face. She’s eerily still, fingers blanched white against the champagne flute she holds, staring at the middle distance like she’s not trying to stare towards their direction.

All of a sudden Roy realises what’s going to happen before it does. Impossibly, the grip on the flute grows even tighter. Anticipation morphs into trepidation. He sees the transformation of an eerily empty canvas of Greta’s face deepen into a frustration, a rage.

It explodes like the flute she hurls straight down to the ground.

--------

He’s used to her hysterics. The practice he’s had over the years makes him well-versed in it. Her reaction was the piece of the puzzle that he was missing each time, conveniently forgetting that for each good moment they’d share, there would be a dozen bad ones to follow. It eats at him that it took the deliberate shattering of a glass when she thought no one was looking to come to this realization. That even if he responded on the most base levels of her, it couldn’t erase the treatment that followed and would never be justified.

He’s intimately familiar with her opinions on children, childbirth - and yet she couldn’t even restrain herself in a moment that should've been nothing but joyful for his best friend and her fucking family. Riza has shifted off him, but her fingers still drift over the fabric of his shirt, along the lines of his shoulder. She had remained silent throughout the whole scene, wide brown eyes blinking owlishly as Greta apologised and clutched her hand to her heart.

Oh, I was just so shocked. I couldn’t be happier for them, you know. Roy imagines the tears she managed to conjure and mask as happiness came from the anger he saw in her face. She couldn’t argue passionately without crying. And now, there were other surrounding her, coddling her from this “genuine display of joy”. Tan dulce, la Greta. He grimaces.

He scoffs under his breath. Yes, he thinks viciously. And Riza and I started fucking under completely ethical circumstances.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Maes over by the bar. The inebriation- and continued drinking - makes a lot more sense now.

Was he really so blind?

A rhythmic tune begins to play; Roy only notices because its a distinct difference from the slower song before. People from other tables around them stand and walk to the dance floor and their bodies start to sway in beat with song. He shifts towards Riza, a request for a dance dying on his lips as Greta walks into back into his line of sight.

She swivels gracefully through abandoned chairs, taking the one on Riza’s side. In turn, Riza turns to her and away from Roy to face her. “I am so, so sorry about before. I don’t think I could have been more embarrassed unless I purposely tried .” Greta covers her face briefly then sighs, placing folded hands over her knee. He has to hand it to her - she can really put on the act when it suits her. “The last thing I’d want to make anyone feel unwelcome.”

Roy makes some kind of noise but Riza doesn’t seem to pay attention. She smiles courteously to the fabled ex. “I don’t think it merits worrying over it for more than a few minutes. I think the few you spent since then are enough.”

The dry wit takes a moment to sink in for her before Greta grins in understanding. “Thank you, and if there’s anything you need during your stay just let me know.”

“It’s a beautiful island. Honestly, the view of the ocean if a treat in itself.”

“I know right? Daddy had someone kick the reservations set just so Maes and Gracia could have it for the weekend.”

“Is it your family that owns the island?”

She grins widely at this, winking furtively in his direction. “I can see Roy has been talking, but talking about that makes this all the less magical.” She slaps her hands lightly on her knees. “Are you two not dancing?” She addresses them both but only looks at Riza.

Riza releases something in between a guffaw and a chortle. “No, I don’t think so. We didn’t quite get through the last time Roy tried to teach me a dance lesson.”

Not my fault, Roy thinks childishly. There’s guilt though, festering deep down - he hadn’t really given much thought to her unfamiliarity with dancing beyond what he had shown her. Here, it was treated like… it was just something they did, was expected of them in the same way he was expected to know that the sky was blue, and that two and three summed to five. Music would play and he would dance, whether it was with his mother and sisters, or drunkenly with his academy friends on a night out on the town, flirting with girls who fluttered their eyelashes at the mere mention of rank. He certainly liked dancing with Riza, but they had the unfortunate habit of getting distracted with other things partway through.

“Ahh, but it’s not about the steps, but about feeling the music in your body. Non-latin styles like waltzes are so frigid and tight - beautiful, of course - but they allow less...fluidity. Freedom. Passion.” She rests a hand on Riza’s shoulder. “And, if you were invited then you’re amongst family now.”

It’s these kinds of declarations that make Roy pause and recollect himself, lest his shock show openly on his face. Who is this woman, who has replaced the one from his memory? This dazzling display of charisma and warmth is a far cry from the yelling and hysterical demands that he remembers - hell, the woman from ten minutes ago, who most definitely smashed a champagne flute on purpose. And once again, as the only witness, he feels there would be no use to recounting it to anyone but Maes.

“Perhaps later,” Riza answers meekly. He slips his hand under the table, resting it over her thigh, squeezing lightly. Her head turns back a little in response, and the slight quirk of her lips tells him she’s understood his message.

Greta presses on. “I find a drink or two helps loosen up and forget what other people are thinking. There are still some days I trip over my own feet.”

On cue, Riza takes a sip from her drink.

Greta smiles prettily, and Roy distracts himself with his own glass, contemplating the best way to get away from her without attracting a scene. “In the meantime, would you mind if I borrow Roy for a song?”

His fingers grip her thigh again - tighter this time, a silent plea for her to say no, to put her foot down and stop this woman in her tracks: but again, Riza makes no verbal confirmation seemingly nodding her head out of some compelled compliance.

“And if I say no?”

Simultaneously, they both pout - one more exaggerated than the other.

“I thought you wanted to save your feet for dancing?”

Roy tenses at the use of his own words against him. In a lower voice and through grit teeth, he says, “Yes, but I’d like to dance with you.”

She whispers back, “And with that display this afternoon, I don’t think I could do more than walk briskly right now.”

Maybe it’s the tiring trip or the emotional cost of all his interaction thus far, but he leans back a little with a smug look on his face.

“Go, I’m more of a visual learner.”

The smile splits into a wide grin that pulls back over Greta’s canines. “Fabulous, I’ll bring him right back.”

Greta wastes no time. Roy is taken aback as he’s lifted from his chair with surprisingly strong fingers digging into his bicep. He’s walked into the throng of people when the situation finally settles with him. He tries to pull his arm back to no avail and Greta pivots with it, gripping tightly.

Greta faces him, waiting for the current song to end in the middle of other dancers. And out of nowhere, she smiles - chuckles with her head thrown back as the next song starts. “Are you kidding me right now? I’ve been trying to have a moment of your time this entire time and this-”

“I thought you would get the message,” he intones.

“Silence isn’t a message. How was I supposed to know you wanted to play babysitter? I’d have let you get it out of your system. Or what, do you expect me to think you’re serious about a girl like her? That’s like going back in time and dealing emotionally with an early twenties me again. If so, your sense of humour needs work.”

It stings, it really does sting. He’s not wanting any sort of blessing from her - considering the context of their relationship. Already, this conversation alone is more than he anticipated. Any conversation with her today was more than he anticipated. Is it so hard to want to keep the drama to a minimum, to please everyone, at least a little? The guilt gnaws at him as he realises his way of going about this might not go how he intends. He had tried so hard to play diplomatic, to be bland and amiable enough that Greta would lose interest in whatever machinations she had planned. He should have warned Riza. Properly. As they move across the wooden floor in perfect time, Roy thinks he might need to acknowledge his limits in this strange, three-dimensional chess game they’ve found themselves playing.

Others now are caught in the crossfire.

Greta spins out from him, dark hair spiraling out in a perfect arc. She seems smaller than what he remembers, her nails digging into his hands with more pressure than necessary. She isn’t clinging to him, not quite, but he’s certainly given no leeway. Where he pulls back, following the beat and pause of the music, she mirrors him, reacting with ease.

“Roy...” she coos at him, one slender finger sliding along the bone of his jaw. He shivers at the intimate touch, desperately trying to think of a way to extract himself from this position.  “Mirala.” She cajoles, leaning closer. “Es una niña. A fetus.”

Roy clutches her hand and spins her - hard - as a warning and she needs a split second to orient her feet. “Milagros,” he says, low and dangerous. “Don’t.”

Her reaction is instantaneous: what serenity was present on her face from her spite and malice is replaced with displeasure, harsh lines forming around her eyes and lips. “Do not call me that. It’s Greta,” she hisses. “I let you get away with it once already. Today.”

“And her name is Riza, so I suggest you learn it,” Roy replies snidely.

“The night of the last dinner,” she starts, all the ferocity and bite suddenly gone. “Was she the one you were talking to?”

Roy doesn’t answer, but he figures it’s still an answer in itself.

Greta scoffs. “You’re a piece of shit.”

Roy chuckles at the accusation, of all people. There’s a thin sheen of sweat on his brow and he resists the urge to loosen his collar. “I’m the piece of shit? You-” he stops himself, tempering himself. “I’m not doing this here.”

“Doing what, amorcito? If there was nothing to talk about then you wouldn’t be so riled up. Months of zero returned calls and left on read, you really do have some balls on you if you think you could come here and think I wouldn’t do this here.”

“Call it wishful thinking.”

She makes him lurch towards her, inches from his face despite the difference in height. “I’m not fucking around.”

“I’m not either.” He backs away. “I said what I said the last time we saw each other.”

“You always said that, how did you expect me to believe you this time?”

He remains as stoic as he can. It’s only when she manages to push his buttons that she gets a good grasp on him before he can realize he’s done for. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Tell me what you call two years of fucking on and off then? Organizing all those motherfucking galas with your department and attending as the gracious benefactor. You drop off the face of the earth but then you text me the address of your hotel when either of us were in town. We might not have been engaged Roy, but we were sure as shit still in a relationship.

“And if we are done, why didn’t you just tell me? Why didn’t you give me a clear answer, Roy Mustang? Is it because you couldn’t? Is it because, deep down you wanted someone to fall back to in case your relationship went south? Don’t think me so stupid that I can’t see right through you.”

“Don’t bullshit me; I know you were fucking other dudes when I wasn’t available.” An acidic laugh escapes him - a freeing, cathartic laugh, to say these thoughts out loud, finally. “Is this grilling meant to make me fall back in love with you? Maybe that would’ve worked a year ago, sure. But you’re deluding yourself if you think you can be comparable to Riza.” It’s a cruel barb, tailored to hurt her feelings perfectly. But it’s the truth - what lingering affection he had for her has vanished as the blatant dichotomy of these two women becomes more and more apparent.

“Si, the barely-legal boba is the girl of your dreams. I’m sure your mother is very proud of you for bringing home a girl who hasn’t even had her quinceañera!”

His silence makes her slow the pace of their dancing. “Oh, Roy, don’t tell me you’re-”

“She is,” he answers quietly, voice barely carrying over the volume of the music. “I don’t care if you don’t like it, or understand it. I honestly wouldn’t expect you to. You push and push and push, Milagros, and you never care about how many people you hurt. You wanna know why we always fought? Because it’s what we do. You never inspired me to become a better person, or to think about how I could be a better partner to you - it was just about the sex, or making you look good in front of whoever or-” Roy cuts himself off, laughing bitterly. “We used each other because it was about ourselves and never each other.”

Roy can count the times on a single hand where he’s seen this woman - once Milagros, now Greta - look truly, properly shocked, and now he can add one more to that small total. He extracts himself from her grip, rubbing at the skin indented by little red crescents.

“Whatever you planned to achieve here, it’s... “ Roy sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck. The dancers sway around them while they stand there.

She pulls him back into the rhythm of the dance and he moves to it instinctively and that's just it, he’s programmed to do so. “Do you think… she will settle for you?” She’s mocking him. “That she wants to have your precious little baaabies? That the supposed girl of your dreams will want to immediately settle her life down and put down roots for you?” She whispers in his ear. “Who’s being selfish now?”

Again, he pushes her back. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Ah, so your bullshit reasoning only applies to me, is that it?[1]  Que funny.”

“There’s no point. I didn’t come here to waste my time on you, and Gracia deserves better from her cousin. They invited Riza here. Please respect that.”

Greta steps once more into his space, her right hand gripping his chin. He tenses his jaw, feels her near - but mercifully her grip weakens and he manages to jerk his head to the side, her lips barely grazing the edge of his own. Even six months ago, he would’ve killed for this kind of reaction from her. Now, skin crawling under the sensation, the need to flee is overwhelming; klaxons blaring in his head.

“This was never about me, amorcito,” she tells him, almost breathlessly. “When are you going to understand that?”

---

The whole scene unfolds before her eyes. They take to each other like flower petals moving effortlessly in the wind.

If it were only that innocent.

At first, Riza doesn’t know what to make of it, of them, the way they sway - to and fro, give and take. She’s hypnotised, captivated by the way their bodies flow with the rhythm of the music instead of the lack of distance between them. It’s quick-paced, almost choreographed, something she’s sure she would not have been able to pick up on the spot.

It’s intimate. More than she would have expected - should have expected. Their eyes never tear away from each other. Their hands use each other to help any growing distance become meager again. Her brow wrinkles because… this is just dancing, and she doesn’t know if it’s instinct or insecurity that’s whispering in her ear and telling it’s more than just than meets the eye. Common sense tells her that if she looks to any other couples dancing, they’ve either made way for them to watch or to give them the floor. The clapping and whooping from the crowd makes her ears burn, heartbeat thumps in her ear as Roy twirls her and Greta smiles brightly in turn.

Riza inhales. Jealousy, she concludes, is a normal human emotion; right now, an irrational reaction won’t help in any way. She’s been dropped into foreign territory without a means to isolate herself that doesn’t insult the celebrations. Later, she can examine the intricacies of the performance in front of her.

Riza exhales slowly. Right now, she needs a drink.

She doesn’t draw any attention as she skirts the gathered crowd, and for that she’s grateful. Leaning against the popup bar, she flags the bartender, who appears equally interested in the dancing pair, to bring her something familiar, rattling off the first wine name to come to mind. The first sip is cool and rest of the glass, and the two more after that, follow in quick succession. Anything to distract her from what’s happening in her periphery.

She’s nervous, it’s normal. There isn’t a familiar face here, she tells herself - thinking too soon.

A loud drop sounds next to her; impressively considering the enormity of the bass. He’s even less put-together than he was for his speech: he’s slouching over the edge of the bar and his glasses appear to be missing, giving Riza clear view of his glazed green eyes.

Maes lifts a beer bottle towards her. “Welcome to the telenovela, Riza!” There’s only the slightest hint of slur in her name. It’s impressive considering the amount of shots taken during his speech alone. She imagines he hasn’t stopped since. “Are you enjoying yourself so far?”

She smiles down at her drink and takes a sip before mirroring his greeting. “The island is beautiful. Congratulations on your milestone,” she says genuinely. She can’t stop complimenting the island. She doesn’t know what else to say.

But he doesn’t hear her and he leans his ear in closer. “What?”

“It’s great! Thanks! Congrats!” and then the clapping behind them stops. She can hear somewhat normally again.

From here, she realises that Maes Hughes is a lot drunker than at first glance - the way he leans against the bar, the flushing of his face. It occurs to her as strange that he isn’t stuck to the hip of his wife, but she’s rudely roused from her woolgathering.

“So why the fuck are you here? Where’s-” he does a full turn as if he’d step out of some mist form into a physical one “-where’s Roy?”

Riza points to the dismantling wall of people. “He’s dancing.”

“What? Why aren’t you dancing with Roy?” He cranes his neck up as if he wasn’t already tall enough and he groans loudly, the bottle hitting his brow with a thunk when he smacks his own face. “Why in the ever-loving FUCK is he dancing with her? Jesus fucking Christ.” He snaps at the bartender, motioning at some used glasses in front of them. “Oi, mate - tequila por favor. Don’t judge me it's the only word I know  with too many shots” He groans deeply, running a hand roughly over his face. “I should have known this spectacle was because of them. It always fucking is.”

“This happens regularly?”

The bartender goes to pour the shot of tequila, but Maes huffs, waving the man away and grabs the bottle roughly. “It used to. You would think they were preparing to launch their careers as professional dancers.” He offers Riza the other wedge of lime. “Come on, you’re gonna need this - we all fucking will if she gets her way-”

After the charming censorship in his speech, it’s jarring to hear Maes utter the original swears with such venom, but nonetheless she accepts the wedge, licking the side of her hand and offering it out to be salted.

The tequila burns deliciously on her tongue - clearly she was in the big leagues now, not restricted by college budgets and the want for quantity over quality. She watches with interest as Maes finishes a second shot in quick succession. “Do we suffer from the same gene that disables us from dancing as well as they do?” Riza asks, rubbing the remaining salt against the skin of her hand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. My dancing is top-notch missy. But if you’re talking about salsa, then no; I can’t dance salsa. But neither can Gracia so ha!” He adds, as if it physically hurt him not to: “And she’s still a perfect wife and human being regardless.”

“Of course.” Riza nods. Her tummy feels pleasantly warm.

“You know, I really thought I come up with the perfect plan. That she wasn’t going to show up because Llamapolooza or Bonaroo or...whatever Bitchella she usually attends. Never misses.”

Riza notes the change in his tone. It’s more aggressive, angrier, but not at her. Following his gaze into the crowd, she guesses, “Do you mean Greta?”

“Shh, shh. Don’t say her name. That’s what summoned the witch here in the first place.”

Riza bites her lip to contain the laugh. “I feel like there’s a lot history to unpack there.”

Maes scoffs and it's a whole body jerking affair. “They’re both a piece of work. But she-” he chuckles sardonically, narrowing his eyes “- she’s been forgiven for more than she should have been allowed to, talking about Gracia the way she did.”

“Sorry… I don’t really understand-”

Maes’ index finger is thrust out in front of her face. “Exactly! That is what everyone at this party should be saying because we asked and asked and asked her and it was always ‘oh no, I’m too busy skiing in Drachma, I couldn’t possibly, ex-oh ex-oh-’” he shudders at the nasal tone, picking up the bottle of tequila to pour them shots again.

“Even with all my reservations about you - don’t think I’m over that little stunt he pulled, and as a dad I should be giving my girl the best role models I can, but-” he dissolves into drunken giggles that err too close to hysterical rather than hilarious.

“It’s completely fucked up that the student is a better match for him than that she-devil. Completely. And I’m complicit now!” Maes throws his hands up in the air, stumbling against the wood of the bar as the gesture moves his whole body. Riza carefully moves her filled-to-the-meniscus shot out of his way, trying to figure out the best way to not spill the majority as soon as she tries to lift it.

Maybe it’s the tequila, or the three glasses of chardonnay she sculled before; but Riza in this moment feels emboldened, defiance surging through her at the crowd cheers for some reason.

Well, she knows the reason. It burns like the tequila does when she takes the second shot under Maes’ glassy gaze.

“Why do you hate her?” Riza asks bluntly, running her tongue over her fingers, savouring the drops that spilled onto her hand. “It can’t be because they broke up, because otherwise you’d be like Chris and be trying to get them back together-”

Maes chokes on his chewed wedge of lime. “You’ve met Chris?” he asks weakly.

“This afternoon,” she answers breezily. “She’s not a fan of me being here. For all her airs about having a private talk with her son, she sure as shit can’t tell him off without half the neighbourhood hearing.”

Maes wheezes, thumping his fist down on the dark wood of the bar. It’s entertaining to see him caught off-guard - even if she’s got an edge because he’s clearly sloshed and she’s only a little tipsy. But she’s tired of all these secrets, all these looks and the confusing behaviour of the woman herself compared to the men she’s been around. In her mind it doesn’t make sense - sure, Greta had been friendly, if a little too much, but Riza could easily put that down to her own awkwardness than any machinations of a more nefarious design.

So why the venom, the animosity? Maes strikes her as the kind of man who is reasonable when presented with all the evidence, and he would have had the best of both worlds: Roy’s perspective as well as that of his wife’s - who was cousin to Greta. Truthfully, a part of her trusts his judgement more so than that of her boyfriend’s, and that wasn’t just because when she turns back to the crowd, she can see him and Greta practically glued at the hips.

If Rebecca was here, Riza would feel bold enough to go and interrupt the two of them, snake her arms around Roy’s shoulders and smile bitchily at this blatant display of… whatever this was. But she’s alone here - on the other side of the dancefloor, Riza can spot Gracia, holding a dozing Elicia and talking with one of Roy’s sisters. For all the welcomes and hugs, the only person who is actually bothering to interact with her  is already halfway to smashed and requires something solid to lean against. The odds are not in her favour right now and it hurts to admit it.

She turns back to face Maes properly. “So, what’s the deal? Clearly it had to be horrible to get this kind of reaction.”

His mouth opens and then shuts, the man sighs deeply, pushing away the bottle of tequila. “I promised Gracia I wouldn’t meddle with you two,” he begins, and Riza feels her hackles start to rise, “but then Greta promised she wouldn’t be attending so I frankly don’t give a shit anymore.” Maes runs his hands over his face, roughly through his hair. He looks so tired.

“Okay. Let’s figure out what he’s told you so far. Do you know why they broke up?”

“Roy told me that it was down to her attitude about kids, and not wanting her own-”

Maes snorts loudly. “That man really knows how to play down an issue, doesn’t he? I mean, he’s not wrong - I don’t think that woman has got a single maternal bone in her body, but it wasn’t about kids in general. I…” he falters here, sighing deeply.

Riza frowns, but keeps quiet. Maes fiddles with his empty shot glass for a moment, and then sets it on the table with a little more force than necessary.

“Not many people know about this, and we want to keep it this way. We’re not ashamed - god knows I’m not, I couldn’t be prouder of her - but I know she’s always blamed herself for it, no matter how many times I tell her it’s not. Years of family pressure had a much bigger impact on her than what she understood logically as a doctor.

“After Elicia was born, Gracia really struggled. You’ve heard of postpartum depression before, yeah?”

Riza nods.

“It creeps up on you slowly. We were young, new parents -

Emboldened, tipsy Riza interjects, “It was three years ago…”

Flustered, he stammers out, “And we’re still young!” He breathes out dramatically. “Now can I finish telling this story?”

Riza chuckles to herself and nods.

“All the stresses could be explained away as us just adjusting to her, to our new routine. Gracia’s an only child as well, and there was enormous pressure she put on herself to present this front that we were fine, we were coping, the golden child had succeeded at motherhood. I was still working for the military at the time, but it got to a point where I either had to choose my career or my family. It was a no-brainer. Things got better for a time, but… it was still taking its toll on her.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Honestly, that’s the only reaction from someone that means something. I’ve heard every explanation from ‘she’ll get over it soon’ to ‘oh sometimes I get sad too’. Hell, she studied it as part of her work as a locum and we still weren’t prepared. Everything came to a head about… five months, I think, after Elicia was born.”

The cogs align in her head, and very suddenly, Riza realises just how deep these wounds ran. “Roy is the godfather.”

Maes nods. “He is. We didn’t ask him to do this - the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. But it was the right choice to make. My wife needed help - beyond what I could do while simultaneously juggling a newborn. Giving Elicia to him is still the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Riza stays quiet. Of all the explanations she had been preparing for - this was not one of them.

“Long story short, Roy gave me the best option in the worst scenario. I think maybe five people, all up, knew what was happening. Greta, naturally, had to be keyed in because they were living together at the time.

“I don’t know if you’ve seen Roy with Elicia but it’s just - I know in my heart that that man loves my girl with every fibre of his being. He was the best choice for her - essentially worked from home, negotiated his contract with the military - made easier by his accident - to ensure that he could be around Elicia as much as possible. He sent us videos of her first words, and the first time she stood up on her own. He threw himself into godfatherhood and he did it perfectly.” Maes takes a deep breath here, rubbing at his eyes roughly.

“I don’t know what he’s told you about his aspirations for fatherhood or, at least, how he looks forward to it but it’s… I know it’s something he wants. Greta on the other hand…They couldn't be more different on the matter.

“They were already rocky when all this shit happened - his accident hadn’t been too long before that - and… I don’t know, maybe he came on too strong about this whole thing, but Greta just outright rejected this situation. It wasn’t even in like an uncomfortable kind of way - which I’d get, because you know, not her kid - but she was just so fucking dismissive and shitty about Roy doing the right fucking thing and-” he catches himself here, jaw tensed and jutting out slightly.

“Greta treated Elicia like she was the dirt on her shoe. Always complaining about how Roy never had time for her anymore, how my girl was loud. How my daughter was annoying and then she had the fucking audacity to say that it was Gracia’s fault that she was having relationship issues with Roy. If it wasn’t for Elicia fucking everything up, they’d be happy. But my wife was selfish, a bad mother, and it was her fault that Roy broke up with her.”

The chardonnay and tequila turns over uncomfortably in Riza’s gut.

“I don’t wanna know what she said to him that night: Roy’s never told me and I’ll never ask. But just before Elicia’s first birthday, he came by with her at like four in the morning. Said Greta was becoming impossible to deal with and he wasn’t going to let Elicia be in the middle of that. I just assumed they’d had a spat - not a new development for them - and it was getting calm enough at home that we were almost ready to have her back full time anyway. A few hours later his family was blowing up my phone because according to Greta, he had tendered his resignation from the military, abandoned the lease on his apartment and left her to cancel all the wedding plans. It was three weeks before he answered any of my calls.”

Maes blinks at her. He seems to be waiting for a response, but there’s nothing she can say that would be even remotely appropriate to respond with. This is what brought him out East? This was why she was called Axe?

Perhaps for the first time in a long while, Riza feels her immaturity in this situation. It’s no wonder Roy edited the story so cleanly for her when she pressed him for details - this is beyond messy, or the boundaries of any normal breakup.

“And yet,” Maes continues, picking at his chewed piece of lime, unaware of the maelstrom of emotions he’s conjured within her, “my beautiful, wonderful, unfailingly kind wife forgave her cousin, and gave her a shoulder to cry on when Roy didn’t come back.

“That’s the one thing I’ll never be able to wrap my head around. Forgiving others when they’re toxic or abusive or just plain unpleasant, just because they’re family. I know it’s common in other parts of the world but here, it’s like it’s amplified - expected to be accepted with the simple passage of time. And then they had to go and make everything ten times worse.” He nudges her arm with his shot glass as if her attention wasn’t already his. “I bet you he invited her here himself. He thinks his the sneakiest little fucker, thinking I wouldn’t know when he’d come specifically see her in Central or vice versa... he’s like some kind of junkie. Pah.”

She hears the words but the context doesn’t make sense. “Sorry, who?”

“Roy.”

Riza feels her expression freeze. For all intents and purposes, she never imagined it would round the conversation back to him. Riza looks back up to Maes who is glaring in the general direction of the dancefloor. She thinks herself, does she dare ask? Something inside her hardens and plummets with the weight of a metric tonne. “What do you mean?”

The shot glass slams back on the counter and he stands up properly, easily towering over her. Still, he needs the bar to stand without swaying. “Oh did he- did he not tell you?” He rubs his chin pensively. “Like, I thought fucking his ex-fiancée was bad enough to keep secret but then, our boy, decides to raise the stakes by fucking his student?” He turns to her, his face somber. “No offense, Riza. You’re great but you’re smart enough to understand how stupid it’s all been. I can’t forget that nor can I forgive him for it right now.

“And you wanna know how I know?” He taps his temple. “Because I know things.”

Riza stares at the ground as the gravity of his words hit her all at once, then around, then to the dancing couple. Her automatic denial manifests in an unchecked sentence: “That was before my time.”

Maes snorts. “Are you sure about that?”

Riza opens her mouth to refute him because the insinuation of any infideilty and how it doesnt make sense; the trip, the everything - why would he even be stupid enough to have both of them on the same island? All this she wants to argue back to the drunk Maes.

And then, the picture sharpens; hazy fog in her mind gives way to clarity for the crisp lines and captured images from her memory.

She’s seen Greta before. Not in the picture. Not in magazines. It was in his office at Eastern, in the days leading up to spring break - the well-dressed woman from all those months ago.

That was her.

my soul takes flight (miklós radnóti, rain shower)

You were right to run! The stream is swollen with grief. The wind shudders. The clouds have torn their moorings. The rain pounds the surface of the lake with its fist, The raindrops turn to dust. I watch as you go.

The raindrops turn to dust. My body longs for yours, my muscles, my sinews, that guard the memory of our wild couplings, the crush of our unruly love! Flesh remembering flesh, tortured by sorrow.

I long for you, torn and tormented by grief, my soul takes flight, fluttering after you, and before you; and then nothing matters anymore! for not even rain can wash away this fierce and raging desire.

[frauleinsmaria]

The Facebook Flub (4/4)

Summary: When Emma accidentally sends a friend request to the wrong person, she doesn’t expect much to come of it. But maybe this accident is the best decision she’s ever made.

Rated T

Part 1: AO3 | Tumblr 

Part 2: AO3 | Tumblr

Part 3: AO3 | Tumblr

Part 4: AO3

A/N: This is it, folks! I've had so much fun writing this not so little story over the past few months, but it's time we bring things to a close. (Although I would be lying if I said I wasn't already considering revisiting this verse again in the future if that's something people are into because I'm such trash for these two.) A massive thank you to everyone for all the likes, comments, reblogs, kudos, etc. you've sent my way so far. The support has meant so much and motivated me to stick with this when I didn't always feel up to it. I so appreciate everything. 

Thanks to @ultraluckycatnd and @thejollyroger-writer for looking over this chapter! Also thank you to my lovely shipmates on Discord and Tumblr for being awesome friends and cheerleaders, you all are fantastic <3

London was cold.

It was the first thing Emma noticed when she exited the plane at Heathrow that afternoon. That, and she’d never seen an airport so busy in her entire life. Not that she expected one of the biggest airports in the world to be quiet and idle two days before Christmas, but the sight of the crowd surrounding her was a bit overwhelming as she tried to navigate her way to baggage claim and then to the waiting area Belle was to meet her at.  

Of course Emma had never met Killian’s sister-in-law before, but she’d seen enough pictures of the brunette on Facebook to pick her out in a crowd. Which is what she was attempting to do when she felt a tap on her shoulder.  

Startled, she let out a yelp and jumped. The strap of her bag fell off of her shoulder and it tumbled to the ground.

(Hopefully Killian reacted better to surprises than she did.)

Emma turned and saw a familiar looking woman smiling apologetically. “I’m so sorry! I tried calling your name, but I assume you couldn’t hear me over all the noise. I’m Belle.”

“It’s okay, really. You just caught me off guard a bit.” She leaned down to retrieve her bag from where it had fallen, then offered her hand to Belle. “Emma.”

Belle shook her hand, beaming. “Oh, I know. Liam and I have heard so much about you. We’re so glad you were able to come surprise him for Christmas.”

“Thank you so much for coming to meet me, and for being okay with all of this. I know you weren’t exactly expecting me to come hinder your plans at the last minute.”

“It’s no hindrance at all. I’m more than happy to have someone who means so much to Killian here with us. And I just know the kids are going to love you.”

“I’m so excited to meet them.”

Emma followed Belle out of the airport, fighting the urge to grab her arm and cling tight so she wouldn’t lose her in the maze of people. It was a relief when they reached Belle’s car in the parking lot. It was less of a relief when she attempted getting in the right hand seat the first time without thinking twice about it.

“You’re probably regretting associating with the American already.” Her cheeks burned as she walked around the car and took the correct seat.

Belle laughed as she sat down to her right. “It happens more than you think. Killian would probably never tell you this himself, but the first time he drove in the States on a trip with Liam a few years ago, he had no idea it was legal to turn right at a red light. He found out because so many people blew their horns at them when he would wait for the light to turn.”

She felt a bit horrible for laughing. American drivers were vicious on any given day. “I’ll remind myself to never let him drive in Boston if it can be helped.”

Seeing the way traffic operated in London was every bit as fascinating as Emma expected. Or maybe she just didn’t get out enough.

“I’m assuming Killian and Liam are working?” she asked as Belle drove. Killian hadn’t mentioned doing anything out of the ordinary today when they’d spoken on the phone last night. It had been so hard to keep her visit a secret from him since everything had been arranged a few days prior.

“Yes. It’s their last day until the first of January. I almost encouraged Liam to let them off since it’s already the twenty-third, but I figured him having Killian at the office would make it easier for me to pick you up without him finding out. I actually figured we’d go there for you to surprise him since it’s almost quitting time. That way you two can have the rest of the night to yourselves.”

Hearing that made Emma’s pulse do something she was convinced had to be borderline dangerous. She’d assumed Belle would take them to her and Liam’s house and give Killian an incentive to come over after work. But knowing she was potentially minutes away from seeing him, from throwing her arms around him and kissing him like she’d wanted to for weeks was almost overwhelming.

Belle glanced at her after a moment. “You’re being awfully quiet. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just...I really can’t wait to see him. I figured it would be at least several more weeks before we could make it happen again.” She felt tears prick her eyes and laughed as she blinked them back. “You probably think I’m kind of ridiculous.”

“Of course not. It’s like I said earlier, Emma: I’m thrilled that Killian has someone who means so much to him, and that he clearly means as much to you in return.”

The corners of Emma’s mouth turned up. “Oh, he does. He really, really does.”  

The moments that followed went by in a haze as Belle parked the car and led Emma into an important-looking office building and onto an elevator that seemed to ascend at a snail’s pace. This was it, but she hadn’t expected to be so nervous. She resisted the urge to bite her nails while she waited for the light to flash on the button for whatever floor Belle was taking them to.

Finally, the elevator doors opened. Belle stepped out into a hallway and gestured for her to follow. It seemed to be a typical office space, all greys and whites in various tones with a few prints of ships hanging on the walls, but Emma was too focused on why they were there to pay much attention to their surroundings.

Belle approached a desk where a redhead sat typing away on a laptop. The woman glanced up and smiled when she saw them approaching. “Hi, Belle! I didn’t know you were coming by today. Would you like me to let Liam know you’re here? I expect they’ll be finishing up for the day soon.”

“Hello, Ariel. And no- well, yes, actually, but could you send a message to Killian first and see if he has a moment? I have a surprise for him.”

Ariel’s eyes shifted to Emma and a look of recognition crossed her face. “Oh! You’re the girl he’s been going on and on about for months! I remember you now from that picture he posted on your birthday when he went to see you.”

Emma didn’t have to ask to know which photo she referred to; it was the one Killian had taken of her in her excitement over the margherita pizza. She somehow hadn’t noticed he’d posted it until he’d gone back to London, and she’d missed him too much to be upset about it. Even if the photo was fairly embarrassing.

But embarrassing photos aside, she was more than ready to see Killian. She was finally in the same place with the man she loved again. He could post all the ridiculous pictures of her he wanted to and she didn’t think it would dampen her mood.

“I’ll see what he’s doing now,” Ariel continued, oblivious to Emma’s lack of response to her previous statement as she picked up her cell phone and typed out a brief message. There were only so many things Emma could focus on at once.

There was a ping when he responded to Ariel just moments later. “Okay! I told him you were here, Belle. He said to come on in his office.” She turned back to Emma, beaming. “I just know he’s going to be thrilled to see you.”

Even though she knew deep down that Ariel was right, Emma found herself second guessing the whole situation as Belle led her around a corner and down another hallway. Would Killian be annoyed that she’d flown over to see him and shown up at his office with no kind of warning? Her stomach churned at the thought. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all.

But Belle didn’t give her a chance to reconsider the matter, stopping abruptly in front of a door with “K. Jones” embossed in the center. She knocked and his “Come in” was almost immediate. Hearing his voice in person rather than from a phone was almost enough to calm Emma’s nerves. Almost.

“I believe I’ll let you do the honors.” Belle gestured to the door, unaware of everything running through her mind.

Before she could second guess herself again, Emma opened the door and stepped inside the office. He sat in a chair behind a desk and had his back turned to her, going through what looked like a file cabinet.

“Give me just a moment to finish filing this paperwork and I’ll be done, love. Say, I’m not complaining, but what made you decide to come see me first? Is Liam in the doghouse?”

“I don’t think so.” Her voice came out a bit raspy and uneven.

Killian froze. He dropped the papers he’d been holding and spun around in his chair. She heard a sharp intake of breath and his eyes widened. Emma watched as he stared at her for a moment, likely wondering if what he saw was real. “Swan?”

“Hi,” she said sheepishly, a hesitant smile on her lips.

One moment he was in the desk chair, the next he was on his feet and kissing her for all she was worth. She swayed a bit from the sudden movement and fisted her hands in the fabric of his white button-down shirt, his hands cupping her face as he reminded her just what she’d been missing these past few weeks.

Emma broke the kiss to come up for air, both breathing heavily and Killian still wearing an expression of disbelief as he pulled her close.

“Swan, what- how are you here?”

“To make a long-ish story short, my friends were tired of hearing me talk about how much I missed you and decided to do something about it.”

Killian pressed another kiss to her cheek and laughed. “Bloody hell. Remind me to overnight your friends a Christmas gift.”  

She heard another laugh and they turned to see Belle standing in the doorway with Liam behind her, grins on both their faces. Emma’s face flushed red with embarrassment; she’d forgotten they weren’t alone.

“Oi, something we can help you two with?” Killian scowled, but she could still make out a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Aye.” Liam stepped around Belle and entered the room. “I’d like to meet the lass who’s somehow considerate enough to give my little brother a chance.”

Killian groaned. “Is there any point in me reminding you it’s younger?”

“Nope.”

Emma pulled away from Killian and offered her hand to Liam. He took it but then brought her in for a hug instead. The close contact was unexpected, but it was also a relief. She’d worried for a moment there over what Killian’s brother would think about her coming to visit so last minute, especially when they’d only been together a handful of months and had met under unusual circumstances. Any anxiety she’d held over this trip was quickly being diminished.

Killian pulled her back into his arms as they talked to Liam and Belle for a bit. They discussed the arrangements behind her surprise visit and upcoming plans for the holiday, but she only half listened while Killian nuzzled her ear and kept pressing his lips to her cheek, now unconcerned that they had an audience.

Emma loved getting to meet his family, and she looked forward to spending more time with Liam, Belle, and their kids over the next few days.

But she also loved finding herself pressed up against the front door of Killian’s apartment (flat, whatever) less than an hour later.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered against her neck between kisses. “I can’t believe you’re truly here, Swan.”

She just hummed; since it was about the only noise she could make when he found that one spot behind her ear. “So you...were...surprised, huh?” Damn him and his ability to make her forget how to breathe.

“You have no idea.” He pulled back and paused like he was taking her in, making sure she was really there with him. “I missed you so much, my love.” Emma loved the way the lines around his eyes crinkled when he smiled at her. She wanted to make him smile like that for the rest of her life.

The idea didn’t scare her nearly as much as it would have in the past.

“Even though I don’t store my coffee mugs at a forty-five degree angle and leave my laundry in a heap on the floor until the last minute?” she teased. He’d been slightly horrified to learn the latter during his last visit.

Killian faked a look of disgust and then laughed. “I can’t believe I’m really about to say this, but you can wreck my flat from the inside out this week and I won’t care just as long as you’re here with me.”

“Careful, Jones. That’s a tempting offer you’re making there.”

“Aye. I’m a glutton for punishment, it seems. Shall I give you a proper tour of the place so you’ll know what you’re getting into?”

“Eh,” she sighed, running her hands down his chest. “Maybe later. I’d really just like to see your room right now if I’m being honest.”

“Hmm. What kind of fool would I be to deny such a nice request?”

“A pretty big one.”

Needless to say, the tour was quickly forgotten about. They had too much lost time to make up for.

Emma woke the next morning feeling like she’d been hit by a ton of bricks. She rubbed at her eyes and sat up enough to get a look at the clock on Killian’s bedside table.

8:43. That explained a lot- it was still the middle of the night for her poor, jet-lagged body.

Groaning, she flopped back down onto the mattress, rolled over, and buried her face in his chest.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Emma didn’t have to glance up to know he was smirking at her.

“It’s not even four a.m. in Boston. I deserve, like, ten minutes to be grumpy.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be timing you. You’ve got about nine minutes and eleven seconds at your disposal.”

Emma sat up long enough to lightly whack his chest with the back of her hand. “Smart ass. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Would I be even cuter if I brought you breakfast and coffee in bed?” Killian asked.

He knew her too well. “For that, Jones, you’d be down right adorable.”

After pancakes and coffee (among other activities that made jet lag more bearable), they dressed for the day and went for a walk. Killian showed her around his neighborhood, which was fully immersed in Christmas preparations. They passed a group of carolers on the street and a family building a snowman in their yard. This prompted him to share every possible Frozen joke he could think of, to which she rolled her eyes at but still laughed. Emma was so ridiculously elated to be there spending the holiday with him, he could share every snowman pun in the book if he wanted to and it wouldn’t change things.  

They had been out for a while when snow began to fall. Emma shivered and pulled her thick coat tighter around her, thankful she’d thought to wear it instead of her leather one. What she’d seen of London was gorgeous, but she still stood by her first assessment of the city: it was freaking cold.

“What do you say we come in from the cold for a moment, Swan?” Killian asked. “There’s a cafe just up the road a bit with excellent cocoa and biscuits you might like.”

“You lead the way.”

The cafe was small and cozy, its warmth a welcome change from the bitter chill outside. Killian ordered them hot cocoa and shortbread cookies as promised and they took a table towards the back of the room.

Emma took a long sip of her drink, savoring the taste of the warm, rich chocolate. “So, tell me about this Christmas party. You said it’s at Liam and Belle’s?” They had mentioned something about it to her and Killian at his office the day before, but she’d been too distracted by him to pay much attention.

“Aye. It’s not a large get together, usually just us and a handful of friends. I should probably warn you that Will and Robin are coming.”

She paused, thinking back on a night several months prior. “Will- he’s the one I talked to the night of Liam’s birthday? The first time you called me?”

Killian rolled his eyes. “That would be Scarlet. Bloody wanker he can be. He teased me for weeks after about that, wanting to know who you were and how I’d become so far gone for a woman I’d never met.” His face flushed with color, and she knew it wasn’t because of the hot cocoa.

“I wonder what he’s going to say when said woman shows up at Liam and Belle’s with you tonight.”

He pursed his lips, considering the thought. “Well, my first instinct was to say that he’s going to love you as much as I do. But I’m not sure I truly like the idea of that now that I think about it.”

“Me neither,” Emma agreed. “I only have enough room for one British dork in my life as it is.”

“Hey! I resent that remark.” He tried to feign annoyance with a sour expression, but the hint of amusement in his voice gave him away.

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “That’s okay. Just between you and me, I think dorks are kind of hot.”

Killian’s answering smile only confirmed her statement. “And don’t you forget it, love.”

They arrived at Liam and Belle’s just before seven. Killian rang the doorbell, which was soon followed by the sound of squealing and several feet running in their direction.

The door swung open. Emma watched as Killian knelt and a little girl launched herself into his open arms. She had long dark curls that went in every direction possible and eyes that matched her uncle’s.

“Hello, Sophia. Where’s the rest of your crew?”

As if on cue, two more children appeared, a boy with similar features and another girl who shared Belle’s features and red-brown hair. There seemed to be a bit of a competition over Killian. Emma tried not to laugh while the three of them argued over which of them told her boyfriend about their day first and which one of them would get to sit next to him at the dinner table.

“Alright, that’s enough. There’s plenty of me to go around, eh?” Killian extracted himself from the tangle of limbs and stood. He placed a hand on the small of her back and beckoned her to step closer. “There’s someone special I’d like you three to meet.”

“Oh!” The boy spoke up and pointed at the two of them. “That’s right. Mum said you were bringing a girl.”

“Yes, well, your mum is usually right. Sophia, Jacob, and Lucy,” he said, pointing out the kids by birth order to her, “this is Emma.”

Admittedly, this was one of the moments she’d been most nervous about. Sure, she was close with Leo thanks to her being around well before his birth. But he was a toddler. Liam and Belle’s three were older and had a high opinion of their Uncle Killian. There was a chance the same could not be said of the stranger he’d just brought for them to meet.

“Um, hi,” Emma started. “It’s so nice to meet you all. Killian’s told me a lot about you.”

The kids were silent. Emma’s first instinct was to panic; had she somehow said something she shouldn’t have already?

Then the youngest girl, Lucy, spoke up. “You’re pretty. Do you like Moana?”

Okay, maybe this could be easier than she thought. “Thank you. And as a matter of fact, yes. I like Moana a lot.”

Lucy considered her response and nodded. Emma took this to be her seal of approval.

The kids led her and Killian inside, where Liam and Belle were already entertaining a few early guests. Soon, Emma was being led all over the house, first by the kids who wanted to give her the full tour, then by Killian as he introduced her to some of his friends and colleagues.

Meeting Will Scarlet was every bit as interesting and entertaining as she’d expected. The first thing he’d said when he’d noticed her was, “So, you’re the lass who’s made Jones light up like a Christmas tree!”

She couldn’t exactly object to that, especially when Killian’s face reddened just as he shot his friend a death stare.

“It’s okay, babe,” she whispered and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek when Will had his back turned to them. “Just between you and me, Mary Margaret told me after your last visit that she could tell you and I both were pretty far gone.” Emma wasn’t sure where the random term of endearment had come from. He had his fair share of names for her, ranging from “Swan” to “my love,” but this was the first instance she could remember addressing Killian by something other than his name.

If he noticed, however, he must have approved judging by his answering smile and how he kissed her back, not even caring when Will noticed and wolf-whistled at them.

Emma spent the evening getting to know Killian’s family and friends, being entertained by the three children, and eating her weight in the Christmas cookies Liam and Belle had made. (And earning confused looks from the kids every time she said “cookies” instead of “biscuits.” Some habits couldn’t be changed overnight.)

It was well after midnight by the time she and Killian arrived back at his apartment. Emma only had enough energy to trade her sweater and jeans for his faded Han Solo t-shirt before going straight to bed. She clearly needed more experience when it came to crossing time zones over the holidays.

The sound of Killian’s voice came far too early the next morning. “Rise and shine, Swan.”

Emma rolled over and snuggled into his side. “Mm. How long until we need to be ready to leave?” She and Killian were to have Christmas brunch with his family as Liam and Belle usually celebrated over dinner with her parents.

“A little over an hour. The restaurant isn’t far from here, so I assumed there was no need to wake you any earlier.”

“My hero.” She scooted up the mattress and pressed her lips to his. “Merry Christmas, Killian.”

“Merry Christmas, my love. I know I’ve said it multiple times since you arrived, but I’m so bloody thrilled to be here with you.” The look on his face when he said the words, eyes soft and smile bright, made Emma think Will hadn’t been too far off with the Christmas tree comment.

“Me too.” She kissed him again, this time trailing her lips across his neck and jawline. “Although I do kind of wish you’d woken me up earlier.”

“And why is that?”

“Because now I don’t have time to show you just how thrilled I am to be here.”

Killian was quiet for a moment. “Eh. Perhaps it will be alright if we’re a few minutes late.” A few minutes turned out to be well over twenty. They showed up to brunch red faced, Killian’s hair messier than usual and Emma adjusting the collar of her blouse to make sure that one spot on her neck wasn’t visible.

Liam raised his eyebrows at the two of them when they took their seats.

“Traffic,” Killian answered the question not asked as he picked up a menu, he and Emma both refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

But of course eight-year-old Sophia was smarter than they gave her credit for. “What traffic, Uncle Killian? Your flat is only a few minutes from here.”

Neither he or Emma could think of anything to say until the waiter brought their drinks.

The rest of the day after brunch was spent like much of their time together, on Killian’s couch watching Netflix. She had chosen Jane the Virgin as their latest show to try a few weeks earlier. They were now about halfway into season two.

“I think this is a new record for us,” Emma told him. “I’ve been here almost two days, and we’re just now watching something.”

“Would this be an appropriate time for me to drop a cheesy pick up line and say you’re all the entertainment I really need?”

“That’s almost cute, but I’m pretty sure pick up lines aren’t all that necessary if you’re already dating the person you’re using them on.”

“I suppose you’re right, love. I’ll just have to save that one for the other women I’m trying to pursue.”  

She should have known he would have a response that like that ready. “Huh. In that case, I guess I need to keep my options open. Didn’t you say Will was single?”

“Bloody hell. I take it all back.”

It wasn’t until later that night when they had started getting ready for bed that Emma remembered the small box she’d tucked away in her suitcase just before leaving Boston. “Killian?”

He glanced up from the bathroom sink where he stood brushing his teeth. How she could still be so attracted to a man when he had toothpaste on his mouth and chin, she would never know. “Yes, love?”

She sat down on the bed and turned the box over in her hands while she waited for him to finish up. “So,” she began when he took a seat next to her, “I know we unofficially decided not to do gifts since it looked like we wouldn’t be seeing each other around Christmas. But I’d had this for a few weeks and was going to give it to you the next time you came to Boston. And since I ended up coming to see you first, I figured there was no point in waiting.”

Emma placed the box in Killian’s open hand. She watched as he removed the lid and held up the small silver object, his brow furrowing before realization set in. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Yeah. It’s for my place. I know it’s not much, but I thought it might be good for when you come visit and I’m working or something. You wouldn’t have to borrow my key or wait around for me to go out.”

Killian kissed her instead of responding. (He was good at that. And kissing in general.) He pulled her onto his lap and his hands went to her waist, holding her anchored against him as he chased her lips with his until she forgot how to breathe.

“I’m taking that as a good sign?” she panted when they were forced to come up for air.

“Bloody hell. This is incredible, love.”

She shrugged. “I mean, it wasn’t all that difficult. My landlord isn’t super picky or anything.”

“No, I meant the fact that you wanted to do this. It shows that you trust me and our relationship is significant to you. Which are things I knew anyway, but it means quite a lot to me that you’re willing to take a step like this, even if we are apart more often than not. So thank you, Swan. Truly.”

Emma didn’t think she’d ever be as adept at giving romantic speeches as him. “You’re welcome. So you’ll kiss me like that again if I get you a key to my car too?”

But sarcasm? Yeah, she had zero deficiencies there.

After Christmas, they had three days together before Emma’s flight back to Boston. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone so many days in a row without working, and her bank account would likely show the results of that when she returned home. But even if she had to work more and spend less on take out over the next few weeks, it was worth it.

Killian made it a point to ensure she got the full London tourist experience during her time left. This included visits to see Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Millenium Bridge (she couldn’t not see something that had been featured in Guardians of the Galaxy), Abbey Road, Platform 9 ¾, and at least a dozen other sites she’d lost track of by the time the week ended.

“I have to admit, all this makes me feel like I’ve done a poor job at showing you around Boston so far,” she told Killian on her last night in the city. He had taken her to Covent Garden, where they’d wandered around a handful of shops and eaten dinner in one of the pubs where she had her first experience with fish and chips.

Of course he objected to her comment. “Our time together in Boston has been a bit more limited so far. I’ve seen what’s truly important,” he said, shooting her a wink. “Besides, that just gives us something to look forward to next time.”

Next time. Emma had no idea just when that next time would be, but just hearing him mention it lightened a weight on her shoulders she hadn’t realized was there. Maybe they would get to see each other again sooner than she’d anticipated.

It took longer than usual to say goodbye at the airport. Every time she thought they were ready to let each other go, one of them would duck back in for another kiss that would be longer than the last. It wasn’t until a random passerby called “Get a room, lovebirds!” that Emma knew she really did have to go.

With a reluctant sigh, she pulled her bag onto her shoulder. “I guess it’s time to get this show on the road.”

“You’ll let me know once you’ve returned home safely?” Killian asked.

“Of course. I love you.”

“And I you, Swan. So much.”

Emma only allowed herself to give his hand a squeeze before turning to leave. She’d never make it on the plane otherwise.

The distance between them felt more bearable in the weeks following her visit. The time difference and their conflicting schedules were still hindrances at times; that was a given considering the circumstances. But thankfully, the first of the year brought a bit more predictability to Killian’s work obligations, allowing their nightly calls and regular Netflix marathons to resume with a bit more ease.

She’d insisted they not do anything for Valentine’s Day; the whole concept had become a consumeristic trap, and didn’t they know each loved the other without gifts and celebrating?

This didn’t stop Killian from having a box of her favorite bear claws delivered to her office that afternoon, though. And maybe she’d arranged for him to receive an apple pie at work she thought was comparable to Mary Margaret’s.

(Killian made the comment afterward that food and Netflix had all but become honorary members of their relationship. It was hard to disagree with that.)

He surprised her in early March by announcing via FaceTime that he had another business meeting in Boston at the end of the month if she would be up for a visitor.

“I think that could be arranged,” she’d told him. “I’ll have to remember to restock on baking ingredients. We never got around to making cupcakes the last time you were here. You know damn well what I meant,” she added when his eyebrows shot up.

Killian’s third visit was shorter than the first two; he arrived on Thursday evening for a meeting on Friday and would be flying back to London on Monday morning. She didn’t dare complain, though. Two full days with him sounded incredible after over three months had passed since she’d left London.

Emma couldn’t help but notice that he seemed antsy that Friday morning. In between getting dressed and ready for his meeting, he paced around her apartment in circles, and was so distracted that he put on two different socks but didn’t notice until she pointed it out to him.

“Everything okay, babe?” She paused in the middle of her own morning routine and walked over to where he now paced back and forth across the kitchen.

“Of course, Swan. Why do you ask?” He answered his own question as he asked it by tapping his right foot anxiously.

“Don’t give me that, Killian. I’m starting to think I need to ask who you are and what you’ve done with my boyfriend.”

“Saying I’ve had too much caffeine this morning won’t suffice, will it?”

“Not a chance.” She considered the brief amount of information she’d heard about his and Liam’s efforts to bring their company to Boston. Apparently expanding a business was much more complicated than it sounded, and things were still in the beginning stages. “Are you worried about this meeting?”

“Aye,” he admitted. “There’s just a lot we have to cover today- nothing bad, per se. I just know it’s going to be complicated and will take a lot of time to sort out.”

It was times like this that made Emma feel grateful that she was her own boss most of the time. “Well, I don’t know much about how business deals go. But I do know you’re going to kick ass just like you do with everything else, and then after, you get to be stuck with me for the next day and a half. We can finally get around to making those cupcakes.” She let Killian make his own interpretation on what kind she referred to.

This got a smile out of him. “Thank you for the reminder, love. It’ll do me well to think on that if things become tedious.”

“Cupcakes do make everything better.”

The meeting went well from what she heard. Killian wasn’t too concerned with discussing it afterward, instead wanting to focus on the time they had left together. After a weekend full of cupcakes (of multiple kinds), she dropped him off at the airport with a reluctant goodbye and a promise that he’d try to visit again soon. After all, that thorough tour of Boston she’d wanted to give him still had yet to happen.

But over the next two or three weeks, Emma picked up on a subtle yet noticeable shift in him. Their conversations and time spent together still happened with the same frequency, but he seemed more distant, only wanting to talk about what happened during her days and barely glossing over his own. Other than brief mentions of his friends or family when he spent time with them, she had little knowledge of what else he was doing.

“It’s not like I expect a full account of every part of his life,” she told Elsa over the phone after a particularly limited conversation on his part. “I know he loves me and wouldn’t do anything hurtful behind my back, but I just feel like there’s something he’s not telling me. It seemed like he was only half paying attention to anything on the phone just now.”

“Have you discussed any of this with him?” Elsa asked.

“Well, no.” She felt slightly immature for it, but she’d wanted another person’s input to see if she was just overreacting or seeing something that wasn’t there.

“He needs to know how you’re feeling, Emma. I know you don’t need me to tell you how crucial communication is in relationships, especially in circumstances like yours. You don’t want this to go disregarded and create a rift between you two when you’ve already got an ocean doing that.”

Elsa was right: everything she told Emma was information she already knew. But it took hearing it from someone else to get the boost of courage she needed to finally confront the matter.

She called Killian back not five minutes after she’d hung up with Elsa. It was late in London, but she guessed he would still be awake based on the brief time that had passed since their earlier conversation.

“Swan? Everything alright?”

“What aren’t you telling me, Killian?”

“I- come again, love?”

“There’s something going on I know you aren’t being honest with me about. I’m not accusing you of anything or saying you’ve lied to me, but you’re holding something back.”

A pregnant pause passed between them. Emma quickly wondered if she’d made a mistake by bringing any of this up.

After a moment, Killian sighed reluctantly. “Aye, love. You’re right. I haven’t been entirely forthright with you as of late. The truth is, there’s been some development since that last meeting I had in Boston that I wasn’t sure I should mention just yet, although you’re causing me to realize that was a mistake on my part.”

She wasn’t sure whether this was what she’d expected to hear. What would be going on within his job that he would be hesitant to talk to her about?

“It’s about the company’s expansion,” he answered when she asked him as much. “The first time Liam mentioned it, I thought he was joking, but I’ve been proven wrong. He’s suggested that, should everything turn out as we’re hoping, I consider taking over the Boston office.”

“Would that mean…?” she trailed off, knowing the question didn’t have to be finished.

“Yes, it would require me to move. The only reason I hadn’t discussed it with you yet was on the chance something fell through.”

“Do you know what the chances would be of that happening?”

“Honestly, it’s doubtful. Nothing has been signed or set in stone just yet, but Liam and his colleagues from Boston have already made their decisions.”

Emma struggled to find words. Part of her had always hoped something like this could happen, she realized. She just hadn’t expected for it to happen so soon. “And what exactly is your decision? You’d be leaving a lot behind, Killian.”

“I know. My family and friends are here. But you’re not.”

She recalled him saying on his first visit to Boston that he had little tying him down back at home. That still didn’t stop her from asking, “Are you really sure, Killian? I don’t want you to do something you regret on account of me.”

“Emma, I love you. You’re my best friend, you’ve brought me more happiness over the past year of knowing you than I knew was possible. Of course I like my life here in London, but I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I’m more than willing to take a chance on this if you are.”

If he were there in person, she would have thrown her arms around him and kissed him for all he was worth. “I think I would be crazy not to.”

Less than two weeks later, it was made official and papers were signed, making Killian the head executive for the Boston branch of Ship Shape. There was still a long road ahead of them- setting up the new offices and making his transatlantic move wouldn’t be quick processes- but it made little difference to Emma at the end of the day. They were getting closer to being in the same place, in the same time zone, and that was all either of them really cared about.

Killian’s birthday came and went in mid April without much fanfare. The legal and technical requirements he was trying to complete in order to move took up most of his time outside of work, and he seemed to be content without celebrating given the circumstances. Emma wasn’t thrilled considering he’d made such a big deal over her birthday when he visited, but he insisted it wasn’t worth being concerned about.

“Trust me, love, I’d much rather celebrate being on your side of the pond and knowing I don’t have to get back on a plane in three days.”

One of the biggest obstacles standing in the way was Killian finding an apartment in Boston. He’d looked at several buildings online and had gotten in touch with a few landlords to discuss technicalities, but all of them had fallen through for one reason or another.

Emma wasn’t eager to recommend her own apartment complex. The idea of having him so close was nice, but she couldn’t say the same for where she lived and was seriously considering other options herself once her lease ended in a few months. Still, it didn’t stop her from suggesting he stay with her until he found a place he was content with.

“There’s not a ton of space and I’m obviously not the neatest person in the world, but you at least wouldn’t have to wait until you found a place here to move.” It helped that he had already planned to sell his furniture rather than try to bring it overseas and could also avoid having to buy new things right away.

“You’re sure I wouldn’t be putting you out?”

“Of course not. As far as I’m concerned, the sooner we get you moved the better.”

And that was that. A few short weeks later, Killian flew out to Boston, bringing his clothes and the handful of miscellaneous items he’d chosen not to sell or leave behind with Liam and Belle. Emma greeted him with a kiss that could only be described as PDA. Some moments were worth sacrificing her dignity for.

“Welcome home,” she told him in between kisses. His face lit up and made her heart do that thing it always did around him that she still wasn’t sure was normal.

“Swan, I think that’s my favorite thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Rooming with Killian came with a new sense of ease and contentment. It was the first time they’d ever been in the same place without a deadline when one of them would have to leave. That wasn’t to say things were always smooth sailing. She would leave her wet towels on the bathroom floor or he would want her TV remotes ordered by height on the coffee table and one of them would be annoyed at the other for it. But these adjustments came easier for them over time, so much so that Emma had all but forgotten he was still technically looking for his own place.

They discussed it one night after work when he’d been in Boston about a month or so. Killian had been to look at yet another apartment during his lunch break that afternoon with no success. Something always fell through with each he considered: the landlord wanted more per month than was sensible, he would discover maintenance issues with the building after doing further research, disputes with a lease.

“You could just stay here. If you wanted to,” Emma quickly added at the surprised look on his face. “I mean, I know this building isn’t the nicest and it might seem like too soon for me to be making suggestions like that, but you know I love you and things are good so far and- what’s so funny?” She felt equally amused and annoyed when he started laughing.

“Love, do you really think I wouldn’t want to live with you?”

“I dunno. My bookshelves aren’t organized and Pop Tarts make up, like, seventy-five percent of my diet, and I know how you feel about that.”

He considered this idea and then shrugged. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but Pop Tarts could make up eighty percent of your diet and I’d still consider it the utmost privilege to live with you.

“Oh, great. Because I was definitely underestimating with only seventy-five percent.”

Things continued to fall into place with ease. The Boston headquarters of Ship Shape was soon open for business and Killian thrived in his position, just as Emma knew he would. He quickly grew accustomed to the city and fit in well within her family and friend groups, David soon becoming his biggest fan. (“I’m starting to wonder if you love him more than me,” she’d joked with Killian one night after they’d gone to a Red Sox game with him and Mary Margaret.)

Liam and Belle brought the kids to visit over the summer. They had a great time exploring the city as a family, and Emma got to know Killian’s nieces and nephew much better on the few instances they allowed their parents some time to themselves. It was hard for Emma not to imagine what their future looked like seeing Killian care for and entertain the three of them so effortlessly. She was nowhere near ready to consider becoming three instead of two, but the idea didn’t terrify her the way it would have at one time. It actually made her smile instead.

The lease on the apartment ran out in August. Emma knew as soon as she got the notice that they wouldn’t be renewing it. After all, she had planned to consider other options before she’d even thought about asking Killian to move in.

It took several weeks of searching to find a new place, but they soon found an apartment they were more than happy with and moved in early autumn, not long after their first official dating anniversary.

Emma was convinced things couldn’t get any better than they already were. And then they did.

She came home from work one afternoon to find Killian sitting at the kitchen table picking at his nails. He stood when he noticed her enter the room. “Hello, love.”

“Hey. How did the presentation go today?” She’d long since come to accept that she would never make sense of half the things Killian’s company did, but she tried to be supportive and keep up with his current agenda regardless.

“Quite well if I do say so myself. I’m assuming there’s one less bail jumper on the streets of Boston today?”

“You’d assume correctly.” She leaned up to kiss him before depositing her things on the table and walked over to the fridge. “I’m starving. Anything specific you want for dinner?”

“I thought perhaps we might go out tonight.” She saw him type out something on his phone just before hers vibrated from her purse.

“Oh? What’s the occasion?” They had been making more of an effort to cook together since he’d moved in with her. Going out for a meal seemed odd without pretext.

“Check your phone first.”

“Huh?” He was only confusing her more.

“Love, I simply think you should consider checking your phone before doing anything else.”

Both annoyed and apprehensive at his behavior, she did as Killian suggested and saw a notification from Facebook Messenger. “New message from Killian Jones- what is this?”

“Just please read the message, Swan.”

Emma opened the app. The words on the screen were anything but what she expected.

Hey. Sorry if this seems weird, but I was wondering if you would marry me?  

She looked up and gasped at seeing him on his knee beside her, holding up a ring box. “I know it’s unconventional, but so is the way we met. I thought I’d take a page out of your book since that worked out so well. What do you say, Swan?”

Emma knocked him over in her attempt to kiss him and they ended up in a tangled heap on the ground.  

They had chocolate cupcakes at the wedding.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

We’ll Carry On - Chapter Twenty One

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

December 16th, 2017

It was a simple slip-up. A small slip of the tongue that really shouldn’t have had such catastrophic events as it did. But Patton had him wrapped in a hug in their closet, a hand clamped over Virgil’s mouth in an attempt to keep him quiet as Charles absolutely trashed their room, looking for them. All because Virgil had accidentally called him, “Dad” in a sarcastic tone when Charles was ordering him around.

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut tight and a few tears slipped out without his permission. He tried to focus on his breathing, on the feeling of Pat’s hugs, but all he could truly focus on was Charles screaming and throwing things to the floor with a crash.

When Charles finally lumbered away, Patton and Virgil left the closet, cleaning up what they could of their room. Virgil vowed never to slip up like that again. He didn’t want anyone getting hurt over a simple word.

April 16th, 2019

It was a simple-slip up. A small slip of the tongue that had Virgil paling when he realized what he had said. He tried not to hyperventilate as he realized he had just did what he had told himself years ago that he would never do again.

Logan’s birthday was today, and as such they had gone to a restaurant of Logan’s choosing for dinner. It was such an innocent question, he hadn’t even thought about it much. But he had said it. “Dad, can you pass me a fork?”

Everyone had frozen and looked at him. Virgil was trying to figure out how he could get out of this situation without getting hurt. Mister Emile was sitting next to the forks, so it was clear who he was talking to. He didn’t see a way out of this.

Mister Emile jerked to life again with a blink and passed Virgil a fork. “Here you go, Virge.”

“So wait,” Mister Remy said. “If he’s Dad, then who am I?”

Tears were forming in Virgil’s eyes and he couldn’t look at anyone at the table. “I’m sorry!” he blurted. “That’s not what I meant to say!”

Everyone was staring at him still and he buried his face in his hands as Patton hugged him. “It’s okay, Virge. You’re not gonna be in trouble,” he murmured.

“Why would he be in trouble for calling our dad ‘Dad’?” Logan asked. “That is, technically speaking, who he is.”

“Last time he called anyone Dad was to Charles,” Patton said. “And uh...Charles didn’t take that well.”

“Oh,” Logan said softly.

“Hey, Virgil, can you look at me?” Mister Emile asked.

Virgil peeked out from behind his hands and was surprised to see that Mister Emile wasn’t angry, or even upset. He was grinning, and there were the beginnings of tears in his eyes. “It’s okay if you want to call me Dad, all right? Is that who you think of me as?”

Blushing scarlet, Virgil nodded.

“Well, then, I can be Dad,” Mister Emile said. “No need to kick up a fuss about it.”

Virgil sniffled and nodded, offering him a watery and thankful smile.

“I repeat my question,” Mister Remy teased. “If he’s Dad, then who am I?”

Dee perked up and immediately made a sign close to his face that Virgil recognized but couldn’t place. Logan laughed. “Amiable? Bit of a mouthful, Dee,” he said with a good-natured smile.

Mister Remy just looked thoughtful. “Amiable. I could work with that. It is a little long, though. Why not just call me Ami? If you boys want to, of course.”

Virgil croaked out a, “Sure,” as everyone else offered varying noises of agreement. “I’m confused,” Virgil said, mulling over his words. “Why are you all so okay with what I said?”

“I already saw Dad as...well, Dad,” Roman said. “But I was a little scared to be the first one to say anything.”

Logan hummed his agreement. “I’ve seen both of them as better fathers than I could have ever hoped for, but I was at a bit of a loss as to what to call them,” he mumbled the last bit, turning red.

“Your pragmatism would get in the way of affection, nerd,” Roman teased.

Logan stuck his tongue out at Roman and Dee giggled, making Patton smile in turn, and a knot loosened in Virgil’s gut. Nobody was mad at him. Everyone else agreed with him that Mister Emile and Mister Remy were Dad and Ami. This didn’t have to be as terrifying as it was.

Everyone continued dinner soon after as if nothing happened. Virgil knew that Mister Emile...Dad was occasionally sending him glances filled with affection and proud smiles, and so was...Ami. This would take some getting used to, but Virgil didn’t regret it.

...He didn’t regret it, but it did make him nervous. He wished he could get rid of that feeling, but he had a sneaking suspicion that would never go away. He would always be nervous about something or another.

“So Virgil,” Dad said, grabbing his attention. “How was school today?”

“Oh! Uh, not bad,” Virgil said, shrugging. “Patton and I played with some of the other kids in our class at recess until we found a little caterpillar and that sorta...took all the rest of our time outside.”

Patton lit up. “It was really cool! It was bright green and had at least a dozen legs and I’m not sure what kind of caterpillar it was, but I know it’s gonna make a beautiful butterfly!” he exclaimed.

“There are many kinds of caterpillars that are green,” Logan said, humming. “But considering the region, that does narrow down our options some. Not by much, but a little bit.” He pulled out his phone and searched up something that Virgil couldn’t see, but then Logan showed them the screen. “These are just a few options the caterpillar could be.”

Virgil was enraptured by the pictures of butterflies and moths that Logan had pulled up. “That’s so cool!” he exclaimed. “They’re all so cool-looking!”

“And pretty!” Patton added. “They’re super pretty!”

Virgil looked at Patton with a grin. “You always did like the pretty things, Pat.”

“Yup!” Patton exclaimed with pride in his voice. “Because who wouldn’t want to be pretty?”

“I, personally, would prefer to be handsome,” Logan offered up. “But if you choose to want to be pretty, then that is, after all, your choice.”

Patton grinned at him. Virgil nudged his twin playfully. “Patton’s a little weird sometimes. I don’t understand why he would want to be pretty, but I won’t judge him.”

“Some time, I wanna try on a skirt,” Patton said. “One with all the bright colors and pretty flowers that some of the girls at school wear! They always look so pretty, and the skirts swish around, and it looks so perfect...” He sighed happily. “Yeah. I want to try a skirt.”

“We can go to the store and see if you find one you like,” Dad offered. “Not tonight, but maybe this weekend?”

Patton gasped. “Really?!”

Roman laughed. “I’ve found that Dad and Ami never offer anything that they don’t intend on finishing. If you want to try a skirt, they’ll let you.”

“Yes!” Patton cheered.

Logan laughed, right up until the wait staff came over with an ice cream sundae with a candle stuck in the whipped cream, and started singing “Happy Birthday” to him. Virgil sang along with their whole family and the workers. He was a little worried when Logan started crying as they sang, “Happy birthday dear Logan,” but Logan was still smiling, so Virgil assumed the tears were happy ones.

When Logan let every last one of his brothers get a taste of the ice cream, he wiped his tears and said, “That’s the first time people have sung my actual name in the Happy Birthday song in a group,” he managed to choke out. “Jack did it last year, and this year he did it again at lunch, but this is the first time anyone’s done it in a group.”

“Happy tears?” Virgil asked.

Logan laughed and nodded. “I like it when people use my real name.”

Patton nodded sagely. “Yeah. I don’t understand why anyone would think you’re anything but my brother. And you’re a great brother, too.”

Logan grinned as he took back the sundae and took his own bites. “Thanks, Pat. That means a lot.”

Virgil shook his head. “Pat’s always ridiculously nice like that. Honestly, I worry about him when it comes to bullies, because he always gives everyone the benefit of the doubt.”

Patton shrugged. “Everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves, no matter what rumors about them are. And I really don’t care too much if they try and hurt me. So long as you’re okay, I’m okay.”

Virgil smiled shyly and ducked his head. “You flatter me, Pat. But you also shouldn’t base your happiness on mine, because that could wind up hurting you.”

Patton shrugged. “Okay. As long as you’re not hurt, I usually don’t have reason to be upset. Better?”

“Still kinda focusing on me, but it’s a little better,” Virgil conceded.

Patton grinned in victory. Virgil rolled his eyes and gave Patton his Don’t think you’ve won look.

Oh, but I have! Patton said with his smug grin.

Virgil stuck his tongue out at Patton. “Play nice,” Ami said. “Don’t want any hurt feelings.”

Dee waved his hands and signed, “I think they’re playing.”

“Yeah, they’re playing, but sometimes people can stop playing and wind up hurting others if they’re not careful,” Ami explained. “So I’m reminding them to play nicely.”

Virgil swung his legs as Logan finished the last of the ice cream. “You know, we do know to play nice,” Virgil pointed out. “I wouldn’t ever hurt Pat intentionally. I count on him too often to push him away.”

“Same here,” Patton piped up. “Sometimes all you have is family.”

Roman got a distant, sad look in his eyes. “Sometimes, you don’t even have that,” he said softly.

Virgil frowned. Roman worried him, sometimes, when he said things like that. He hoped that Roman was okay. He couldn’t imagine what life would be like if Patton weren’t in it. But no one knew about where Roman had come from, not even Dad and Ami. So Virgil could only wonder.

Logan finished his ice cream and everyone stood up, Dad pulling out the money for the meal and leaving it on the table. When they all left the restaurant, the clouds were hanging heavy overhead. “It might rain soon,” Virgil noted.

“Yeah,” Patton agreed. “But that means we can be all cozy inside tonight.”

“Speaking of tonight, I was thinking we could either do a game night or a movie night?” Ami proposed. “If Logan is up for it, that is. And he’d get first game and or movie choice.”

Logan perked up and Virgil smiled. He liked it when Logan got excited about things. It usually meant he’d start sharing his trivia knowledge, or he’d become more expressive, which Virgil didn’t get to see often. “If I get first choice on movies, I totally want to see Black Panther,” he declared. “It’s great, and I need to introduce my brothers to Marvel.”

“That is a bit more of a...grown-up movie,” Dad pointed out.

Logan frowned. “Oh, yeah...I forgot that Shuri is sometimes...not PG-friendly. Uh...how about Into the Spider-verse then? Still Marvel, but a little more kid-friendly.”

“Sure,” Dad agreed. “And if anyone gets scared, they’re free to leave the room at any time, no judgement.”

“Maybe a little disappointment,” Logan said. “But not at you, more in the fact that I picked a bad movie if it scared you.”

“Oh, you know what else is PG?” Roman asked. “Shrek is!”

Logan rolled his eyes and Virgil cackled as Logan snapped, “We’re not watching Shrek on my birthday!” He huffed and tweaked his glasses. “Everyone knows that Shrek 2 was better anyway.”

“But they’re human most of the movie! That’s no fun!” Roman exclaimed.

“Maybe, but I Need a Hero was a show-stopper song,” Logan rebutted.

Roman crossed his arms and huffed. “I guess!” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands into the sky.

Virgil laughed as Logan gave a smug grin not unlike the one Patton made earlier. “Into the Spider-verse first. Then we can talk about the possibility of Shrek 2.”

“Fine,” Roman whined.

Virgil bounced in excitement. “I really want to see Into the Spider-verse,” he offered. “That and maybe Detective Pikachu when it comes out.”

“That won’t be on-demand for a while,” Logan warned. “You’d have to see it in the actual movie theater.”

Virgil shrugged. “Worth it. I like Pokémon a lot.”

“Noted,” Logan said. “Maybe we could talk about it sometime. I enjoyed breeding Eevees to complete the evolutionary chain, and observe their different stats.”

“Definitely!” Virgil exclaimed. “I want to learn more about the stats, for sure!”

Logan smiled, but looked pleasantly surprised. “You might be the first person to actually say that to me,” he said. “I won’t complain, though.”

“Consider it your birthday present from me,” Virgil said with a laugh. “A free pass to ramble.”

Logan laughed in response to that, and Virgil’s heart warmed.

[readyourimgaines]

Chapter Four: Deeper Truths

I’m still getting notes on these so I’m going to keep posting them until someone tells me to stop. I plan for chapter five to be a light, filler so there won’t be drama in that on. Always, thank you to @thatbarricade. And the tag-list: @iamnotbrianmay @board-certifiedbastard @mayonnaiseismycomfortfood

“I think you’re the only person I know that actually drinks Snapple.” Grantaire handed the bottle to the blond and placed his own ice tea in the cupholder.

“I don’t always drink it. It’s good though, like an odd mix between tea and juice.” Enjolras took the cap off the bottle. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.” Grantaire started his truck and pulled out of the gas station parking lot. “How’d you feel about the Musain?”

“Well, the work went better than I expected, so that was great. The people are friendly. I don’t think I’ll mind working there. I just can’t stand the sound the steam thing makes though. It’s so high pitched.”

“Yeah… You’ll get used to that. It takes a bit, but after a while, it’s just another instrument in the whole symphony, you know?”

“Did you want to talk about something, or could you just not sleep?” Enjolras glanced at R as he took another sip.

“I did want to talk about something with you. Kind of like a little boost. There are going to be times when you feel alone, given the circumstances, and I want you to know that you don’t need to feel that way.

“Yeah, you’re living in a house with other gay men who are constantly hosting a bunch of other gays. That’s all great, but there are going to be times when you feel out of place. When Ferre’s mom calls him on his birthday or whenever; Courf’s brother coming to visit from out of town. It’s going to feel lonely.”

“What are you-”

“Remember when Bossuet said he bet my father regretted the boxing classes he signed me up for?” R asked.

“Yeah.” Enjolras nodded.

“My coming out story wasn’t too much different from yours. My father drank a lot so I had the-the ridiculous idea that coming out to him when he was drunk was going to be easier than coming out to him when he was sober. Because then he might have forgotten, and then if I ever had a boy over I could tell him that I’d told him and he’d forgotten.

“He tried hitting me but couldn’t really because of the boxing classes I’d been going to since I was... fourteen? I was sixteen at this point. He kept trying to hit me and...and I knocked him out so I could get out of there without getting beaten. I was gone by the time my mother got home from work, and she was able to piece things together. Haven’t heard from either of them since.”

“Shit,” Enjolras breathed.

“I’m not- I’m not telling you this to scare you. I promise that’s not what I’m trying to do, alright?” Grantaire’s grip on the stick shift tightened, his knuckles turning white. “I’m telling you so you know that whatever goes down with your parents, whether they take you back or not, send you a Christmas card, whatever the fuck happens, you aren’t going to be alone. If Ferre and Courf spend a holiday with Ferre’s family, we can stay and hang out, go on a road trip or something. Just you and me.”

“You haven’t been alone like this, have you?” Enjolras’s eyes were wide.

“Nah. Feuilly doesn’t have a family either. He wasn’t disowned or anything, his family was just as unlucky as the Kennedys.” R’s chuckled was forced. “Yeah. He and I have spent a lot of time together. Eponine, Gav, and I usually have our own little Christmas and Easter celebrations, too. We don’t exactly have faith in that stuff, Gav’s just ten so we want him growing up with the stuff we didn’t get to but all our friends did.”

Enjolras slowly nodded. “I only thought stories like ours happened on Degrassi or in Troy Sivan music videos.”

“I thought you were sheltered.” This laugh was natural.

“I have a phone.” Enjolras laughed. “I might not know much about magic and all that, but I did my reading before coming to the conclusion that I’m gay. I’m only gay in theory, anyway.”

“Have you seen Glee?”

“Too many times. It’s still Jehan’s favourite show. They found it through their friend, Cosette, and they showed me because Kurt’s gay and they fell in love with Unique and Coach Beaste.”

“How amazing would be if everyone’s parents responded to their kid’s coming out like Burt did? I mean, shit. Just ‘ya sure?’ and that’s it? I wish.”

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not too broken up over my parents kicking me out. I know I should be, I just… I’m not. I’m not their picture-perfect dress up doll anymore. No more posed family pictures in front of the fireplace, then my father yelling at my mom the second the cameraman's out the door. I don’t have to be tucked under the covers watching MacDoesIt with earbuds in and praying to God my father doesn’t walk in.

“If they hadn’t kicked me out, I wouldn’t have this job, I wouldn’t have met the...four I did... I’ll remember their names in like ten minutes. I wouldn’t have met you. Forget my parents. They lost a son and I’ve got new friends so, honestly, they lost. I didn’t.”

“That’s the way I try to look at it. I met Feuilly at a shelter...thing…and he introduced me to Joly and Bossuet. Joly introduced me to Ferre, Ferre was already dating Courf.”

“How do you know Eponine?”

“Her parents owned my dad’s favourite pub. My mom worked there with them.”

Enjolras let out a laugh that was more of an exhale. He felt something akin to disbelief, yet another weight was lifted off his back.

“It’s weirdly relieving to know I’m not the only one. I-I feel bad because I wish you didn’t go through all that, but…”

“No, no. I get you’re saying. It’s why I told you. Sure we haven’t known each other for long, but we’re more alike than you’re probably willing to admit. I’m all kinds of fucked up and, no offence, but you probably will be too. But the friends we’ve got? They don’t care and they make the shitty things in life manageable. Somehow.”

“I don’t know, R. I think we’re doing pretty good for a couple of ‘fucked-up’ kids, don’t you? I’ve only had one panic attack since I was kicked out. You aren’t drunk all the time trying to force yourself to forget.”

“No. I’m never touching that shit. I saw what it did to my parents and I just- No. I’m 19, almost 20, I’d rather not have liver failure by the time I’m 40.”

“Then yeah, I’d say we’re doing pretty good.”

Testing his luck, trying something new, he rested his hand on R’s, which was still tightly gripping the stick shift. A smile tugged at the corners of Grantaire’s mouth and his knuckles relaxed, returning to their natural colour.

*****

Combeferre woke from his slumber and looked around the dim bedroom. He lifted his phone from the nightstand, squinting at the brightness of the screen. 4:32. Untangling himself from Courfeyrac, he took a few seconds to pat the other’s untamable curls, trying to soothe him back to sleep when he stirred. He slipped his phone in the pocket of his shorts— the pair he’d never wear outside the house- and headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Walking into the hall, he smiled to himself when he noticed the small moth by the hall light. The smile only widened when he entered the living room and saw Enjolras sound asleep on the couch, his arm hanging over the side. Grantaire was lying on the floor against the couch, their hands almost touching.

Combeferre retrieved his phone from his pocket and quickly snapped a picture of the two before going to the closet and drawing out two pillows and blankets. Enjolras would probably have his head if saw the picture, but, Combeferre thought to himself with a smile, it was totally worth it.

He knew Grantaire would claim he was fine without a pillow, but the artist’s neck would be destroyed in the morning even if he never spoke up about it. The sandy-haired man gently wormed a hand under R’s head. The instant his head was off the floor, his eyes snapped open.

“It’s just me.” Ferre flexed his fingers, softly scratching R’s scalp as he placed the pillow under his head, and eased his head back down. “I can move Enjy to his bed. You can have the couch,” he offered.

“I’m good here,” R muttered, eyes fluttering. “Thanks for the pil…”

Ferre brushed the curls back from his friend’s forehead before laying the blanket over him.

He stood and placed the second pillow under Enjolras’s head, the boy nuzzling his nose against it. Ferre was about to lay the blanket over his friend when he noticed the sneakers still on his feet. He plopped the blanket on the back of the couch and unlaced Enjolras’s shoes, setting them in the corner. Then he laid the blanket over the blond.

Enjolras opened his eyes as Combeferre adjusted a rumpled corner of the blanket that was falling off his shoulder. “Ferre?” Enjolras rubbed his eyes.

“Just woke up to get some water. Wanted to check on you.” Ferre said, his voice calm and warm. “When did R come in?”

“I don’t…one, maybe?” Enj covered his mouth as he yawned. “I swore last night.”

Ferre breathed laugh. “Tell me about in the morning. You’re tired.” He rubbed Enjolras’s head, the strands of hair sliding between his fingers like liquid gold. “Goodnight, Enjy.”

The blond leaned his head a little closer to Ferre as he kissed Enjolras’s forehead with a smile. Going to the kitchen, he took a water bottle from the cupboard, filling it at the sink before walking back to his room.

Sitting on his side of the bed, he plugged his phone back in, took a swig of water, and lay back down. He slipped back under the covers and curled into Courf’s side.

“Ferre?” Courf hummed.

“I’m here.” Combeferre smiled fondly when towards him and their noses and foreheads touching. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He flung his arm blindly, trying to find Ferre’s hand. Ferre, more awake, caught his boyfriend’s hand and entangled their fingers. “What time is it?”

“Early. The sun’s not up yet. I got up to get some water. R and Enj are sleeping in the living room. I need to show you this.” He unlocked his phone and opened the photo gallery. “I’m calling it now, they’re gonna be together before the middle of September.”

“You do know he’s 19, right?”

“So? Two years isn’t a big deal.” Ferre held the phone out to Courf.

“Okay, that is adorable,” Ferre admitted. “I’m still gonna give him shit for pinning after a minor.”

“I know you will,” Ferre chuckled as he put his phone back on the nightstand. “They both have a pillow and blanket.”

“You’re such a mother hen.” Courf wrapped his arm around Ferre’s waist and pulled the sandy-haired man closer to him, there noses touching again. “You’re amazing, though.”

“You are, too.”

*****

Enjolras woke up to his phone ringing. He patted around the couch, finding it by his hip where it had fallen out of his pocket.

“Hello?” His voice was gravelly with sleep when he spoke.

“Where are you?”

“Jehan?”

“Yeah. Where are you? I stopped by your parents’. Your father slammed the door in my face, then your mom called me and said you weren’t living there anymore. What the hell happened?”

“Oh, god.” Enjolras sat up, the blanket falling to his hips. “What time is it?” He brushed his bangs from his eyes.

“Almost nine-thirty.”

“Do you just wanna come over?”

“Where are you?”

“Do you remember where Combeferre lives?” Enjolras tilted the speaker of his phone away from his mouth to cover a yawn.

“I think so, yeah. The house on White Street?”

“Mhm. 229; the tan one. I-I’d rather explain things in person. I promise I’ll tell you what’s going on. I didn’t mean to hide anything from you, the last couple of days have been a whirlwind, you know?”

“When should I come over?”

“10:30 sound okay? I gotta get dressed and all that, tell Ferre you’re coming over. I don’t even know if he’s up.”

“I am,” Ferre called from the kitchen.

“I swear Jehan, he doesn’t really sleep.” Enjolras chuckled.

“I’ll be there in an hour. Just-just be safe, alright? I care about you.”

“I know. I promise I’m fine. Careful on your walk over. It’s a calm enough neighbourhood, but people are the worst.”

“You’re saying this to me, Enjy? I’ve got it. I’ll see you in a little bit. I love you.”

“Love you too, Jehan.”

“What’s going on with Jehan?” Ferre appeared in the doorway, a towel over his shoulder.

“They know something’s up. They stopped by my parents’ and freaked out a little… They’re coming over in a bit so I can explain everything.”

Combeferre winced at the mention of Enjolras’s parents. “They’ll understand, you know that.”

“Yeah. I’m glad R and I didn’t wake you up last night. I was hoping we wouldn’t.”

“Where’d you guys go?”

“For a drive,” R grunted from where he laid on the floor. He was laying on his stomach, face in his pillow. He sighed. “What’s the time?”

“Roughly nine-thirty,” Enjolras repeated.

“That’s gross.”

A knock sounded on the door just as Enjolras was towelling off from his shower.

“I got it!” Courf opened the door. “Jehan, right?”

“Yeah. You’re… Other ‘c’ guy that isn’t Ferre.”

“Close enough.” Courf stepped away from the door, allowing Jehan in. “I’m Courfeyrac.”

“I know I’ve seen you before,” Jehan addressed Grantaire.

“Probably. I’m Grantaire.”

“Hi.”

“Enj just got out of the shower. He’ll be a minute.” Grantaire scratched the back of his neck.

“That’s cool.” Jehan shrugged. “How’s graduation treating you?”

R shrugged. “Better than high school, I can tell you that. I’m pretty excited for classes to start actually. People taking classes because they actually want to be there? I’m in.”

“That does sound better. My art classes are sort of like that, but they can still be naggingly annoying.”

Grantaire nodded sympathetically.

“I hope college is better than high school. The university has an actual library and everything,” Ferre pitched in.

“You’re still going to be buying everything you read, though,” Jehan laughed.

“That’s probably true, yeah.”

The bathroom door opened, and Enj stepped out from the hall.

“There you are.” Jehan captured Enjolras in a tight hug.

“I told you I was alright.” Enjolras returned the hug.

“Never know with you. What happened?” Jehan took a step back and looked their friend over with weary eyes.

“Let’s talk in my room.” Enjolras took Jehan’s hand and lead them into his room, closing the door behind them. “Remember, I promise I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you; things have just been crazy.”

“I know, I can see that. I’m not upset, Enjy.”

Enjolras gave a recap of the last couple days, starting with the fight he had with his parents and ending with him and Grantaire returning from their drive, though he left out their conversation.

“And you haven’t called CPS?” Jehan’s eyes were wide.

“No. And we aren’t going to. I turn 18 in a little under a month so I’m laying low. Besides, by the time all the paperwork and everything else went through I’d be 18 anyway, so it’d be out of their control. I’d just be placed in a group home for a month. The whole thing would be a waste of time and money for everyone involved.”

“That’s...that’s… I don’t have words for this, Enj. I’m just-”

“It’s alright. You don’t need to say anything. I know it’s a mess and everything is up in the air for now, but I’m okay and I don’t mind how things are going. I’ve made new friends, I’m away from my father and I’m openly out now.”

“Oh. The ah...that curly-haired one? Grantaire, I think he said his name is? You know he’s totally into you, right?” Jehan smirked.

“Nah, I don’t think so. He’s just a friendly guy, that’s all.”

“Courfeyrac and Ferre are together, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. Grantaire looks at you the way Courf looks at Ferre. He’s into you, man.”

“I’ve got work at one,” Enjolras quickly tried to change the subject. “You should come check the place out. It’s a pretty chill place.”

“Where are you working?”

“Café Musain. It’s a little coffee shop on the college campus. I think you’d like the place.”

“I’ll go with you, sure. Now come on, I wanna watch this guy check you out more.” Jehan laughed at the face Enjolras made.

“He’s not into me. I’ve known him for three days.”

“Doesn’t matter. Love is a weird thing.”

*****

Enjolras’s phone dinged and he slipped it from his pocket, checking the message. “I don’t work today, apparently.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Eponine texted and said it’s too dead for me to bother showing up.”

“I can get that with the heat,” Courfeyrac called from the kitchen. He was filling cups with ice water.

“It wasn’t this hot yesterday,” Grantaire said. “Or this morning.”

“It is July,” Combeferre reminded.

“Enj, can I get your help with something?” Jehan pulled Enjolras up from where he sat on the floor, tugging him into his room.

“What’s wrong?” Grantaire looked to Ferre when the door was closed.

“I have no idea.” Ferre shook his head. “I’m going to freeze yoghurt so we can have popsicles later.”

“Why haven’t I ever thought of that?” Grantaire flopped over on the couch so he was laying on his front again.

“Oh! R, I heard you have a crush.” Courf called with a grunt.

“You heard that from me, ya dingus.” Grantaire ruffled his curls, trying to get some of the heat out from the black mess.

“You know it’s illegal to have se-”

“Woah, Courf-” he sat up- “I never said anything about that.”

Courf laughed. “I’m not letting you live this down. He’s not even 18, man.”

“I’m hardly two years older than him. Two years isn’t a big deal. I’ll just wait ‘til he turns 18 to say anything, so you don’t lynch me in the back yard or some shit.”

“Two years isn’t bad at all, R,” Ferre encouraged.

Enjolras and Jehan came out from Enjolras’s room. Enjolras was holding a couple of bandanas, Jehan donning one of Enjolras’ baggy T-shirts.

“Can I get to the sink for a second?” Enjolras requested of Courf. The older stepped aside and Enjolras let cold water run for a few seconds before soaking the bandanas under the water flow.

“Tie this around your head.” Enjolras handed one to Courf, Jehan, and tossed the last one to Grantaire. “Keeps your dark hair cooler.”

“You’re amazing.” Grantaire sighed blissfully as he tied the knot at the nape of his neck. “Oh god does this feel good. Thank you.”

“Not a problem. It’s one of the few useful things I ever learned from my father.”

“Oh, my god.” Courf bounced on his toes. “Let’s contact the others, have Joly or Feuilly bring water-balloons and let’s fuck each other up.”

“I’m texting Joly!” Grantaire’s fingers were already flying across the screen of his phone, the pads of his fingers leaving little smudges from having tied the almost dripping bandana.

[swiftie5891]

Taylor Swift is no Snake – only Karyn is

My response to “30 THINGS I LEARNED BEFORE TURNING 30”

At the beginning Taylor refers to social media and says that many people hide behind it to insult and hurt others emotionally. Although Taylor wants to use it as a connection to her fans, she has learned that she does “not need the validation of someone telling me that I look 🔥🔥🔥”. Here, Taylor addresses the exact danger and disadvantage of social media. Today’s generation is using it to get validation, while creating an image of a perfect life. They post pictures or videos of them partying, drinking, doing sports, eating healthy food. Especially make-up tutorials are very popular among teenagers. Thus, the dream job of them is not being a firefighter, a police officer or an astronaut any more, but being an “influencer”. When you don’t adjust to a beauty image, you are called names and are prone to insults. Also Taylor has learned that. In her article she writes, “you could unwittingly see someone telling you that you look like a weasel that got hit by a truck and stitched back together by a drunk taxidermist.” People who write comments like that either don’t realize that they seriously hurt someone by writing this or they want to hurt them intentionally and hide behind the internet’s anonymity.

The second lesson Taylor has learned is that a kind behavior is not always beneficial. When you are always kind, people might get used to this and take advantage of it by using you for their own goods, or they do not take you seriously when you clearly state your opinion. I’ve also learned that saying “No” does not mean that you are selfish, but that it is good for yourself to stand up for your opinion. Whether people accept your opinion shows your true relationship. Do it Taylor-style: “Be like a snake – only bite if someone steps on you”. Be kind to people who are kind to you, but if you feel used or oppressed, stand up for yourself, you deserve it.

Taylor’s third lesson is important for everyone who feels bad for failing. Just because you have failed does not mean that you are a “loser”. It also does not mean that you haven’t given your best. Like Taylor says, “it’s good to mess up and learn from it and take risks”. Having learned from your mistakes or failures can help build your character, and it makes you stronger. In my case, I´ve failed my driver’s license test the first time. Although I was really really sad at first, I suddenly realized that it was for my own good because I had to take five or so more lessons, which helped me gain more self-assurance. So, I’ve passed the second one. It has also helped me learn to accept my failures, to live in it and to come out stronger.

Everyone who hates his or her body should take a look at lesson four. DO NOT HATE YOUR BODY BECAUSE OF A CERTAIN IDEAL PORTRAYED IN ANY KIND OF MEDIA! Especially in times of social media, showing your skinny and/or trained body has become an influence on people, especially on young people. Being confronted with pictures of those “perfect” bodies every day can make you feel bad when you don’t adjust to that beauty ideal. Like Taylor says, “a lot of us push the boundaries of dieting”. We search for various diets Hollywood stars have used to get “in shape”. But when you look at the consequences of those hard-core diets that make you lose a lot of weight in a short time, you should recognize that you’re harming your body. In my opinion, you should do sports – but not to adjust to a certain ideal. You should do it to make and keep your body healthy. You should also not lose weight to become as skinny as possible. You should do it to relieve pressure off your joints and to stay mobile. You should always remember that you have ONE body and that you shouldn’t stress it with an excessive diet. I have lost 20 kg myself during my senior year at school to be able to wear a nice dress. But most of all I recognized that my knees started to hurt while walking and I was out of breath after taking the stairs. Those two factors encouraged me to do sports, and it has helped me so much. Additionally, it supported my learning process during the finals. I am glad that Taylor has shared her opinion on that to show especially young people that pushing “boundaries of dieting […] can be really dangerous” and that “there is no quick fix”.

As lesson number five Taylor names banishing drama from your life. It is nice to hear from her that she is also suggesting blocking poisonous people. When your life is so consumed by people who cause drama in your life, you do not get to focus on yourself. Especially when you’re feeling down yourself and other people decide to knock you down additionally, you have every right to block them. Like Taylor says, “be discerning” of those around you. Sometimes you’ve tried to solve the problems with those people but then it happens again and again. Here, you have to decide if the person is worth it or if a further contact is just hurting you. Sometimes you gotta let go of people, even if it feels weird or hurts at first. If the drama queens are taking swings or the jokers are dressing up as kings, just let go and say “here’s a toast to my real friends”!

I love that Taylor is addressing it in lesson six: women are allowed to age. She says that the pressure on women regarding “everlasting youth” is not fair because it “isn’t even remotely required of men”. When men get older, they are told that they look wiser and that aging makes them sexier. When women show visible signs of their age, they are told that they look old and should do something about it. When you look at the amount of anti-aging cremes for women available in beauty stores, you can see the apparent importance of that matter for women. Also when having a look at the many Hollywood stars and their faces, it seems that aging women in the entertainment industry do not exist. Sometimes those frozen Botox faces are really scary, especially when you see pictures of those women before they have (in my opinion) destroyed their faces. I do not say that women should not take care of themselves, but I think that at some point in our lives, we should accept that we get older and that our bodies will change. It is natural, and all of our scars and wrinkles stand for the things we have experienced in our lives. And this does not refer to plastic surgery after an accident or anything else which has disfeatured someone’s body and face. On the contrary, I think this should be supported by health care.

Lesson seven has seriously touched me. It is so sad that Taylor and other artists have to be scared of any kind of violence. Those two examples Taylor addresses have touched me personally because I love going to concerts. Especially the attack during Ariana’s concert shook me because so many young people were killed and got hurt at a place where they wanted to have a great time seeing their idol. I don’t get why people hurt other people like this. At the same time I start to understand why the safety arrangements at concerts have changed a lot. It is terrifying to read that Taylor only felt safe(er) on stage wearing QuikClot army grade bandage dressing and that she does not feel safe privately at all. I have the biggest respect for everyone involved in the planning of the tour and for the security people who had to do their best at keeping everyone safe. For this reason I try my best to get through the security check as fast as possible by looking what is allowed beforehand and by already opening my bag when the person in front of me is checked. I am also being nice by saying “hello”, “thank you” and “good-bye”. Taylor’s last sentence shows how we can deal with those threats best: “We have to live bravely in order to truly feel alive, and that means not being ruled by our greatest fears.”

Lesson number eight is very important for our self-esteem. It is a lesson I have also learned myself: “For an approval seeker like me, it was an important lesson for me to learn to have my OWN value system of what I actually want.” It is so important to have your own values and to stand up for them. When people say, “don’t listen to what others say”, I always answer, “that’s right, but I care what I think”. We do not have to follow everything other people say when we do not feel comfortable with it. Unfortunately, when you say this you are mostly called stubborn or not able to compromise. But I think in the end it is most important what we think of ourselves and that we can be proud of our decisions, although it might sometimes annoy others.

Lesson number nine: self-made cocktails. I should really try that because there’s nothing cooler than hosting your own birthday party for example and being able to offer some really nice cocktails.

Lesson number ten is really relatable. When you like to cook, you’ll always find some recipes which you love to cook and which taste delicious. I started to cook myself to be in better control of what I am eating and to reduce the amount of fat I am eating because too much fat causes a really bad feeling in my stomach since I’ve had to get my gallbladder removed in 2015 (1 week after Taylor’s 1989 show in Cologne). I am also using the garlic crusher because it helps to have little pieces of garlic in your meal without it being too strong. Moreover, I’ve just heard that garlic is a good way to make some meals more digestible. At this point, I’d recommend Taylor to release an own cook book with her favorite meals because those dishes sound amazing.

Number eleven is great. Command tape is so so good. I’ve also used it to put a hook for my jewelry on my wardrobe because I did not want to have a hole in it. It has not disappointed me because it has not fallen down yet (for about 10 years).

Number twelve is really important. Although it is sometimes hard to admit that you were wrong, apologizing is really important for a friendship / relationship. This can help the friendship / relationship to build trust, and it helps the ones affected get past this.

Unfortunately, lesson thirteen is a very current issue. This exactly is the problem: many victims of sexual assault do not come forward because they think that no-one will believe them. Moreover, like Taylor writes, going through the trial must be horrible because you have to talk about it and to live through it again. I am lucky that I have never been in this position. Maybe this is why I don’t understand why you could feel ashamed for it because like Taylor says, “It’s something no one would choose for themselves.” The ones that have done this should be ashamed for doing this to the victims, not the victims themselves. It is so important for the victims to speak up to hold the offender responsible for the things they have done, to start the process of putting it behind them (at least to regain some normality) and to prevent others from being assaulted by the same person. I hope in the future more victims will be believed to reduce those horrible deeds.

Lesson fourteen is something most people have to deal with. When a person close to you loses someone or has to go through any other kind of tragedy, you mostly do not know what to say. Mostly the only thing helpful for them is to let them know that you are here and to hug them. I think you know it is a real friendship when you are in a bad place and see if the other person is here for you or not. I have experienced this various times. Every time I thought I have finally found a best friend whom I can depend on in all situations, I have gotten disappointed. I have always been there for her when she had a bad fight with her boyfriend, and I have listened to her relationship problems and the problems she had at work. However, when I was in a really bad place because my grandparents have died within a short time and was totally looking forward to a movie night to get some distraction, she wrote me that exact day that she would rather go out with another friend to a bar. This was the time I stopped believing in that friendship. It is hard when you try your best to help your friends but mostly do not get it back. Now I’ve gotten to know some Swiftie friends whom I have never met personally, but feel really connected to and get really good advice or encouragement, which I love to return. I am so glad Taylor wrote about this in her article because I feel like the feeling of mutual support has declined nowadays.

I have learned lesson fifteen as well. Vitamins can make the way you feel so much better. Some years ago, I was feeling really sad all the time and I didn’t know why. My doctor one day told me to get my blood tested and it showed that I lacked Vitamin D and B12. So, I started to take supplements and a few weeks later I felt so much better. Taylor says something helpful here: Magnesium. For someone who loves going to the gym 5 to 6 days a week like me, magnesium is really helpful for the muscles, especially to avoid cramps due to overload. It seriously helps.

Lesson sixteen is important for everyone who trust people they haven’t know too long too soon. Taylor explains that “the layers of a person you discover in time” are “more valuable” than the ones you see when you first meet them. I have experienced that too. For example some years ago I got to know someone of whom I thought could be my best friend. We had so much in common and we had fun at the beginning. However, over the time I learned that she was only talking about herself, and when I needed her, she wasn’t there. Those are the moments when you realize that that friendship won’t work out. I have also experienced that a short time later. I was part of a dance team for about 20 years. Then one day we had a discussion about our costumes. Something that I didn’t feel comfortable was suggested, although it was well known that this was the only thing I would never wear. It was a long discussion and I said that I’d rather quit before wearing that because it would make me feel horrible and uncomfortable. In that situation no-ne really stood up for me and understood me. That was the moment when I saw that we were not a real team, because in a team no-one would be left behind and no-one should be forced to wear something that they don’t feel good with. That was the moment I knew that I would never feel happy there again and some month later actually quit. And I have to say it was for the best. I had so much fun the years before but with the time that (long) first impression has changed for the worse. That’s why I can really understand Taylor when she says that we shouldn’t trust everyone’s first impression they make on us.

I think lesson seventeen is learned by everyone someday. In our teens we do stuff to our body of what we later think, “why did I do that exactly?”. I think it is part of the process of discovering and growing up. I once cut my hair and especially my bangs. I looked like … I don’t want to say what. Over the time I have learned how to treat my body well. I also use moisturizer and body lotion, although I have to treat my face differently due to acne-prone skin. I use special cream for it some days, I use peeling about three days a week, and once a week I treat myself with a face mask with activated carbon and hyaluronan to reduce my pimple scars. Remember, you have only one body. So, treat it with kindness.

In lesson eighteen Taylor addresses the importance of dealing with your childhood “scars”. She explains that our childhood scars can haunt us into our adult lives. I think it is important that someone like Taylor is opening up about not being popular as kid because we can relate to her and learn that we can rectify it. Besides being not popular as a kid, like Taylor, I have also been made fun of because of my weight. Although I have lost 20 kg already, it is still a factor that makes me feel insecure sometimes. I have learned to live with it and I want to lose some more weight to improve my health and lower the risk of getting diabetes or something else. Moreover, I think many shops have awesome clothing for girls with some more weight and we are able to dress nicely and according to our body. Everyone can dress like they want to, especially nowadays, but it is most important for me to feel comfortable, even with some more weight than the average person. I am glad that today I can say that I have found some amazing friends who don’t care about my weight and are also very protective when I’m made fun … although today I seriously ignore that because I know what I have achieved and what I am able to do. I am probably more flexible and can do more sit-ups than an average-weight person. And I am proud that I can do the splits like Taylor in the Delicate music video … although I haven’t tried it on a car yet.

Lesson nineteen is really relating. It is so important to tell your friends how you feel. And you have to be honest. A real friend should be interested in how you feel. If you can’t share this with your friends, then with whom can you (except your family of course)? It is always good to know that you have friends who care about your feelings and try to understand. Also when you have problems with someone, it is best to address them instead of only thinking about it. Communication is everything, both in a relationship and in a friendship.

Lesson twenty is something we all learn in our twenties: “the difference between lifelong friendships and situationships”. When you’re new somewhere, like a job for example, you try to find mutuals of whom you soon think as your friends. I am a person who is searching for mutuals very quickly because I hate being alone. Although you might get along with many people quickly, it doesn’t mean that you’ll be BFFs. I think a friendship can develop when you spend some time outside of your “situation” and get to know each other more closely. In that case you can learn that you’re perfect in your “situationship” but not in a friendship. I am glad that I am friends with people who I know for more than twenty years (I’m 27, by the way) and who I see at least twice a year because we don’t live that close to each other anymore. And I am glad that I have also friends who I have met later but write with consistently.

Lesson twenty-one: fashion = experimentation. I can only say: so true. When I look back at pictures from my primary-school years, I think, what did I wear? Then I’m like, I was a kid … and it was the 90s. That’s ok. Later I had a time when I loved wearing black leather bracelets with rivets, my hair couldn’t be dark enough and I had a skull and crossbones phase thanks to Pirates of the Caribbean. I think it takes some time, a long time, to find a style that we feel comfortable in and that fits us. I still like to try new things. For example, I’ve changed my hair from a dark blonde to red. And I love it. I actually feel more confident with it. By the way, Bleachella is nothing to be ashamed of, Taylor. Although I prefer your fair hair like it is now, I also loved the brightness.

In lesson number twenty-two Taylor addresses fighting fairly. In a relationship or friendship a fight should not be about who is winning. Like she says, the best thing in a fight is communication and trying to talk about it calmly. Communication should also be used to prevent a big fight. When you have a problem with something or someone, talk about it. It is so true what Taylor says at the end: “They don’t give out awards for winning the most fights in your relationship. They just give out divorce papers.”

Number twenty-three: WE WILL ALWAYS HAVE YOUR BACK, TAYLOR!

Number twenty-four: I am glad that I haven’t had to deal with illnesses like this yet. When I read this it always makes me thankful that my parents are healthy. I can only imagine how helpless you must feel. I totally get that you learn to prioritize other things and that you feel like other worries feel so much less important.

In lesson twenty-five Taylor clarifies that artists don't have to feel miserable in order to produce great art. I think that the artists’ experiences influence their art regarding the atmosphere of the song, painting or so on. When I was feeling bad and had to write an essay for college, I was not able to produce something good. I know it is not comparable to writing a song, but I think our feelings influence our productivity. However, creative writing or painting can be used as a way to come to terms with negative experiences. But the thing that is produced during that process does not have to be the artist's best work. I am so happy that you, Taylor, have left the negative experiences behind you and are doing better than you ever were.

In number twenty-six Taylor says that she likes to make countdowns for certain events. I love countdown apps too. I have a countdown for my birthday, Christmas and New Year’s Eve and for concerts. I also have a count … back for the Reputation album. Look What You Made Me Do, Taylor! It is good to know that things you’re excited about are in your future when you’re feeling down or stuck. I hope I can soon add the release of TS7 and hopefully a concert to my countdown app site on my phone.

In lesson twenty-seven Taylor explains how to deal with bullies and how to disarm them. Especially in a time of social media, where bullying anonymously is so easy, especially celebrities have to deal with any kind of “opinion” about themselves. Taylor���s handling of the hate campaign against her is awesome because she has used the word she’s been called and turned it into a symbol for her sixth studio album “Reputation”. She has exchanged the negative association with a snake (being devious) with a positive one. Now Swifties associate the symbol with the phrase, “Be like a snake - only bite if someone steps on you.” The best way to deal with bullies is either to ignore them and don’t give them what they want: attention. Or you do it like Taylor. You use the word you’ve been called for yourself and turn it into … Karyn. She has become the icon of the tour, and her shiny eyes and the way she rose behind Taylor during Look What You Made Me Do will never be forgotten. I’ve been bullied because of my weight in school myself. It hurts a lot because you don’t know how to deal with that at a young age. But as I grew older I learned that although they were bullying me I got better grades than them and graduated from high school and even got a university diploma a few weeks ago, while they left school after the 9th grade. There are so many things which are more important than what people have to say about you. Today I know that, like Taylor says, you learn how to deal with people like that and grow stronger. It’s the best revenge you could get because all they’ll ever gonna be is mean.

In number twenty-eight Taylor talks about her connection to politics. Although many people say that celebrities should just do their job and act or sing, I think it is important for people like Taylor to speak up politically and to encourage young people to educate themselves about and engage with politics as well. I still can’t understand how people with reactionary concepts can be voted to be in such high positions. I hope that here will be more celebrities who use their influence on their fans to put the right people in high positions, or at least to animate more people to use their voice and vote. Sometimes the reason why the “wrong” people win is because of those who do not vote because they think that nothing will change anyways and that one vote does not matter. But when many people think like this, there are more and more lost votes which might cause a different outcome.

Lesson twenty-nine: the hair changes its texture. I always wondered why the texture of Taylor’s hair is so much different now. The curls were so sweet and totally fitted country-Taylor. I think her hair has changed with the eras and adjusted to the “New Taylor”. Maybe the new era will also welcome her curly hair back. But we love you no matter what your hair looks like, Taylor.

Finally, lesson thirty. When Taylor has done something wrong, she has punished herself. On the one side it is good if a child recognizes when he or she has done something wrong, but on the other side it can cause a hard life when you will always question your decisions to an extent that is not good. Of course it is good to consider the outcome, but when you have actually failed and made the wrong decision punishing yourself for the decision you have made is not healthy. Like I’ve learned watching The Bold Type, living in your failure is good and important to learn from it and to build your character. You can’t change the past anyways. It is good to deal with your decision and your failure but it is also important to Shake It Off afterwards.

   @taylorswift @taylornation @elle