#i think it’s because of how after reentering the fandom i just started seeing myself in him so much

[richardsikens-secretlovechild]

here’s a poorly constructed headcanon/rant because my brain is very full rn

yk how there are various poc headcanons for james? like indian, hispanic, filipino, etc. (which i love by the way dont get me wrong!! i love how various groups can share their experiences through him it genuinely brings me joy)

what if i just.. make him jamaican in one of or several of my fics?? what happens then?? who’s to stop me?? like imagine indo-jamaican effie and afro-jamaican monty moving to england during the mass migratory period, settling into the wizarding community there then having james??

and james grows accustomed to wizarding society and england in general but his parents also make sure he still understands his roots

and i can imagine them speaking to him in patois at home and him teaching the boys bits and pieces of the dialect

and because i also head canon that mary is of jamaican decent as well (more so that she has extended family living there even though her parents were born in england), i think she’d let him help her stay in touch with her culture and they’d trade recipes too because jamaican food is god tier and everyone should try it (seriously)

one thing i’ve always been hesitant about is writing my dialect within fanfic. because like when it’s a standard language like french or english it just feels different ig like maybe people won’t be interested in jamaican creole as much because it’s not thought of as one of those romantic languages really it’s just broken english to many people and also it’s not really a language that’s formally written outside of jamaican literature or casual texting between jamaicans

but ykw i don’t think it should matter to me this much and i think i’ll write it regardless because my dialect deserves to be celebrated and also writing is supposed to be a form of expression, there’s no use worrying about what ppl will think about it really and i could def put end notes with translations and stuff

jesus this went from a headcanon to rant to me accepting that i’m allowed to write patois into my fics☠️

[frost-bites-slushies]

x

sometimes i forget that im never allowed to go back, that i cant participate over there anymore as much as id love to. i cant post anything about that anymore and its just my fault. im scared what people are saying about me there, i dont know and its so very scary.

i dont know how i couldve stayed in that fandom after what i did, but i want to, but i also know id only open myself up to reminding them of me after they likely started to move on. i dont want to be that selfish, i hurt people, i affected people, but i still like to just. fantasize over what i would do.

i'd love to have made a little fan character, based on one of my cute little plushies maybe, probably the apprentice to my favorite character in that au. probably shit at cooking just like me too, but they keep em around cuz theyre sweet eheeh

iunno, i can only dream though, as much as i wish i could make it real. i know the people there and i know they know eachother, theres no doubt at least one warned their friends about me. my favorite creator from that fandom blocked me, i still see snippets of their work through reblogs, but. i know they told the other creators in that fandom about me. to look out for me maybe. i dont know why some of those creators havent blocked me yet, but i can count my blessings i suppose, but i wouldnt complain if they did block me, because i deserve it entirely.

i dont know, i just. wish. maybe if i changed my name? maybe if i tried to change everything about myself so i wasnt recognizable? so much about me would be lost, the characters i developed for years before now, the name i got from nice memories with past friends of mine. but i would be free. i would be able to go back, to do what i want to do, to come back smarter and more informed as someone new.

but that would just be lying. and lying got me here. i would lose so much, and would it be worth it? to be able to participate in something i love if i have to limit myself forever? i can never talk how i want, draw how i want, ill have to get rid of my sona and make it unique enough that they couldnt track me down. but if i do reenter that fandom, ill be found out by them as quick as a heartbeat, because i talked with them so often and shared so much of myself.

and they put all that information i trusted them with into making a post about me. they put the art that i gave to them as gifts in the post so people could recognize how i draw, they put the details of how i interact with others and how i use my account online so people could figure me out even if i didnt post art, and im damn sure if i didnt delete it, my discord would be in the post too. if i showed my face, im sure they would have slapped that in there. im surprised they didnt try and detail what my fucking voice sounded like.

because of a stupid dingy little post they made, im restricted from things i love, because even after knowing me for months, they think i didnt feel guilt. that i wanted to hurt them and i did it on purpose. that i didnt learn from what i did to them. they think i was so immature that i didnt know what i did wrong.

do they still think that? do they believe i am really so immature and stupid that i wouldnt learn? i was their best friend. i was so close to all of them. i believed them all to be sweet people, but they made me terrified of coming back to the internet at all. I didnt run away for my own selfishness, i ran so they didnt have to see my face again, but the very person i listened to them fucking shit talk about behind closed doors found my account and outed me.

do you know how much shit i have on them? the things i could say about them? how awful they are in private? i believe only two people of the group are genuinely nice people, and even then they still cut me off, like they had every right to do. but they didnt make me terrified, they didnt yell and scream at me, they didnt call me a "slippery rat" and a manipulative lying bastard. They wanted to believe in me, but they rightfully took the victim side and cut me out. one figured out a bit later that they were wrong for trying to keep contact with me, the other was only dissapointed in me, which hurt significantly more than hateful words.

only two people of the whole group were respectful to me. they treated me like a human that did something awful, and not just a sick, twisted and manipulative monster. one of the group tried to manipulate one of the two people that were willing to keep contact and help me change. this person told my friend to just pretend to be my friend, and ghost me once i got new friends or felt better, to be my fake friend and dissapear once "everything was fine".

another ranted and called me hateful things in a reblog of the stupid post on me. they said i was a rat, that i "got away before they could get to me", assumedly to curse at me in dms like in that reblog. they told me to never come back, that nobody likes me, that i no longer had a place in that fandom.

i was scared, and i still am. but ive said that enough times. I've been scared for a while, and the people that are still beside me know that.

i just wish i could do what i love, but as they said, i dont have a place there anymore.

i think ill come back as someone new.

[snickerdoodlles]

You have an upcoming old guard au and howl's moving castle au for patpran? 👀

i do!! :D the old guard AU was inspired by this edit by @/patprans because i went feral the second i thought of patpran being in love for 2000 years. its premise is 'what if pat and pran were immortal in bbs canon?' and runs from there. of the two AUs, it's also the one closer to being finished (nearly 8k long too! who am i even!!). i rly need to completely scrap the last 1.5k of the fic or so and rewrite it completely, i just havent been able to bring myself to do that yet lol. id love for it to go up before the month is out but...we'll see how well i stick to that plan 😂 💦

the howl's moving castle AU...well, if im in a fandom, assume i have a HMC AU. howl's moving castle is my favorite series ever (and Diana Wynne Jones my favorite author ever) and it really influenced a lot of my writing style in general, so i fall back into that universe quite often lol. the PatPran HMC AU will be called listen with your heart (dont have much in that tag yet, but. soon. i talked a little bit about the opening premise in the tags of this post though)

it's high school era!PatPran (specifically their senior year) and it starts with Pran accidentally attaching his revolving door to Pat's bedroom door instead of his own (always double check your maths kids!!) but he won’t be able to move the door to his proper bedroom one for Reason. so as you can see, Pran is Howl, Pat is Sophie, and Calcifer will be an OC named Fig, and i think ive made @jemmo cry over this AU no less than 10 times already. i dont know when i'll finish this fic because its getting um. Long. but its a big love letter to Pran's kindness, Pat's care, and knitwear, so I'm really pumped to share it when i can 🥰

and since it's going to be a lil while til its done, here's a little outtake (~1k) from the first time Pat meets Fig the fire ghost under the read more :D ~

):) (:(

No sooner does Pat reenter his room when he hears the tell-tale whistle-click of his door changing. All thoughts of changing out of his school uniform fly from his head as he dumps his schoolbag in his entryway immediately and turns on his heel to bother Pran. He grabs hold of his doorknob with an eager wiggle and after a quick mental count to three, throws open the door and lunges in.

Pat fully expects to fall onto Pran and get shoved back into his room with a shout and a scolding. But instead of Pran, all he meets is empty space. He stumbles into the home beyond his door with a gasp and--barely--manages to get his feet under him before he falls flat on his face. 

Pat gapes at the newfound territory in awe. He’s stolen glimpses of this room before, of course, but this is the first time he’s seen it. It’s a strange place; Pat had thought Pran now lives in a dorm at his new school, but this looks more like a full cottage to him. The living space has been converted into one large workspace, tables littered with half-finished projects, shelves crammed with textbooks and supplies, a cheerful fire crackling in a large fire pot beneath an open window. A small open kitchen is tucked into the corner and just past it, Pat can see a small hallway of doors open to bedrooms, a bathroom, and extra storage space. Everything smells overwhelmingly of spice and smoke that make Pat's nose itch like he needs to sneeze.

“It is a wizard’s space,” he murmurs to himself as he admires the strange room and begins to poke around. He’s never been in a magic workshop before--all the laboratories in school are firmly locked to only allow magiks in--but after he gets used to the overwhelming newness, he starts picking out little bits of Pran in the smiley faces decorating the spice jars and the animated faces on the strings of globe lights. Pat admires one of the faces making an exaggerated scowl at him with little inked huffs and giggles to himself. He resists the urge to explore more when Pran isn’t here, instead turning to the fire in the corner with a raised eyebrow. “Does Pran know you let me in?”

A grinning shadow of a face appears in the fire. It’s hard to make out completely, like Pat’s looking at something through the heated ripples of a mirage, but silvery flames emerge through the pink-gold flames of the fire’s body to form two mischievously slanted eyes and a jagged gash of silvery grin. It looks positively wicked, and Pat can’t help but grin back at it.

“Not many people see me, much less so quickly,” the fire ghost says. Its voice sounds like the hiss-spit of a burning wet log, but Pat gets the impression its pleased all the same.

“Did Pran say you could let me in?” Pat repeats stubbornly. He’s curious, but not that curious. Besides, it’s no fun breaking rules if Pran’s not there to scold him.

The fire ghost’s grin doesn’t falter. "You were always here,” it says in a pleased whine. A log in its pot cracks in a giggling spit of sparks. “I just opened the door.”

Pat purses his lips suspiciously. So that’s probably a no. He’s not sure a fire ghost will just let him leave if he goes about it directly though--and it must sense Pat’s plans, because the sharp whistle-click of the door changing sounds behind him, leaving Pat trapped until Pran gets back. Pat’s not annoyed by this, per se. He doubts Pran would let a fire ghost that would harm him or his guests into any home of his. It’s just embarrassing to be stuck here until Pran can come bail him out, and Pat had left his cellphone in the bag he dropped in his room like an idiot. He’s not sure what else he can do but wait though, not when the fire ghost offers him a seat on the stool nearby its pot and admires Pat with open curiosity.

"I’m Fig.”

“Pat,” he offers with a friendly nod hello.

“I know,” Fig says. It crackles with a little flare of warmth. “You’re the one Pran likes to visit.”

Despite his best intentions not to snoop, Pat can’t help but perk up with a pleased grin. “He said that?”

Fig lets out a series of spitting sparks and cracks that Pat thinks is supposed to be merry laughter. “Pran shares everything with me,” it says conspiratorially.

Pat raises his eyebrows dubiously. “Why would Pran tell anything to a fire ghost?”

Fig flickers sulkily. “I’m his fire ghost. Of course he shares everything with me.”

Pat laughs and leans closer, not hearing the door latch release. “Pran bound himself to a fire ghost? My Pran?”

Fig flares brighter right as a voice echoes coldly from the doorway. “Snooping, Pat?”

Pat whirls around with a sunny smile, and Fig echoes his greeting with a bright flare up that washes the whole room in warmth. “No! Fig brought me in, he said I was supposed to be here,” he rats out shamelessly, eyes glued to Pran.

Pran ignores him in favor of glaring at the fire ghost flickering big and bright just behind Pat. “Did he now?”

Pat lets out a small sigh from his nose. He’d known that must’ve been the case, but he had hoped...

“And I didn’t snoop,” Pat adds on mulishly. “I was waiting for you to come back.” Pat brightens with a gasp. “But you’re here now!” he says cheerfully, and dives for the nearest shelf full of books and jars to poke through.

“Ai, Pat!”

):) (:(

[western-writer]

Friendship on the Rocks

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Warnings: small angst, language

A/n: I know I've been MIA, but I've been writing this so here you go!!! Enjoy! I missed writing so much! I didn't edit this so if you find a mistake feel free to tell me and I'll fix it.

Summary: Staci finds out about Jacob and Braeden's relationship and it doesn't go well at first.

Staci wasn't an idiot. He caught all the flirtatious remarks shared between Braeden and Jacob through the radio. He saw how Jacob's mouth curved into that slight smile when Braeden said something sarcastic back to him, taunting him exactly as he does to her.

No, he thought. Braeden would never do that to me. She would never have a relationship with that man.

He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't. He refused.

That is, until he saw them.

How Braeden managed to get into Jacob's office with no one noticing was beyond Staci, but she did it. There they were, Braeden sat on the desk and Jacob standing over her. His hands are on her hips, lips pressed to the side of her neck and Braeden giggles.

The intense feeling of betrayal surged through his body at the sight, hitting him like a freight train. The sudden rush of anger and pain made him dizzy.

Braeden then realized Staci was watching them and her eyes went wide, pushing Jacob away from her. Staci began to retreat, eyes focused on her as he did so.

"Staci, wait!" Braeden called after him as he turned away and disappeared. She cussed under her breath harshly, jumping off the table and going to the doorway.

She didn't understand how he was able to disappear so quickly, but he did. She glanced around outside the office and he was nowhere to be found.

"Goddammit," she cursed under her breath. Braeden turned back to face Jacob.

Jacob stared at her quizzically as she began to pace around. He has never seen her like this: panicked.

Through all the time Jacob as known the Junior Deputy, she's held a facade of calm and collected, never letting the enemy see the true fear underneath. Of course, Jacob understands the weight of Staci's discovery. He's not an idiot, he knows exactly how close the two of them are and that this could destroy their friendship.

"I need to find him, Jake," she says frantically in a hushed tone. "I need to talk to him. I need to talk to him before this destroys us..."

The panic in her face is a bit startling.

Jacob took the initiative from her and made an announcement over the intercome. Braeden watched his lips move as he talked and within minutes the Vet's Center was cleared of all Peggies.

"Go," Jacob spoke to her. "Go find him."

Braeden exhaled harshly and nodded, turning on her heel and taking off through St. Francis. She ran up and down every hallway, through every room, but he was nowhere to he found.

"C'mon, Staci, where the hell are you..." Braeden mutters to herself.

The Vet's Center is empty, abandoned. Jacob's announcement made them clear out and clear out fast. It's... peaceful. Or, at least, it would be if it weren't for Braeden's friendship on the line right now.

She searched for what felt like forever and had scoured the whole building. As a last resort, Braeden went outside and found Staci sitting alone on a bench, away from the prisoners. Her face fell a bit when she saw him, a look of heartbreak plastered on his face.

You did this. The voice in her head hisses. You ruined everything. You always ruin everything.

Braeden shakes her head and approaches him cautiously, unsure of how to start this conversation.

"Staci...?" she whispers faintly. "Can... can we talk?"

"About what?" he growls quietly. If Braeden hadn't known him the way she did she would've taken his tone as anger, but she knew him too well. Staci had a habit of making his anguish as anger and that was exactly what he was doing right now. "There's nothing to talk about, Rook."

Rook. Braeden thought resentfully. He never calls you that. Never.

"I wanna talk about what you just saw."

Staci's eyes finally wander up to meet her own and they're bloodshot: bright red with the veins more noticeable than usual.

"What I saw, you mean whatever the hell it is you have going on with Jacob? He's a monster, Rook, not to mention being twice your age! He supports that psychotic brother of his, who, seeings as it seems like you've forgotten, has people kidnapped and brainwashed."

"I know..." Braeden mutters, taking a seat next to him. "I just... there's no excuse. I know that..."

"Then why the fuck are you still doing it!? You can't really believe that he cares about you, can you!?"

Braeden thought a moment. "I... I don't know what I think and I really don't care. It just-something between us changed, Staci."

Staci stared at her, prompting her to keep talking.

"I don't even know how it happened. I just went away for a couple days. I needed to get away from all this cult shit and Jacob had the same idea. We ended up going to the same spot and after some distrustful banter we decided on a truce, just for those days, for that time. And we talked. I saw him in a new light, Staci. I stopped seeing him as this being that's untouchable and started seeing him as a human."

"So you two spend a couple days together and you suddenly forget your job and your obligation to this county? Whitehorse made a mistake on bringing you on, Rook. You made a promise when you put that badge on and took on the title as Junior Deputy and you failed. Putting your own selfish desires above everything else."

"Oh, I'm selfish!? For months I have put myself through the wringer trying to save this county, trying to save you and Hudson. Maybe I'm tired of being 'The Deputy' all the damn time, Staci. Why's it up to me alone to save this whole fucking county!? It isn't fair! I'm just one person!"

"News flash, Rook! Life isn't fair!" Staci is on his feet now, yelling in her face. "Your job comes first! You do not get to go running around with the bad guy! And as for me and Hudson, voice done shitty job at helping us."

"That isn't fair. I've been trying to convince Jacob to let you go. I've been trying to get you out and I've been trying to figure out how the hell to get Hudson out too! I'm only one person! Who the hell are you to tell me what I can and what I can't do, Pratt!?" Braeden is on her feet now too. "When I'm with Jacob, the crushing weight of the lives of a l whole county disappears. I don't have to worry about being shot, beat, taken, drowned, or drugged! How is it fair to leave the fate of Hope County to me and me alone!? For just a little while there are no Peggies or cult. I can just be Braeden with out the 'Deputy' title attached to my name."

"So just because you wanna take a vacation means that the whole county gets to suffer and it excused all of Jacob's actions."

"No, it doesn't, but look around Pratt. When I'm with Jacob the county settles down more than when I'm out causing trouble. And face it, the Resistance is not completely innocent. They kill unproked and will kill Peggies that lack even a knife for protection. I have seen people attack unsuspecting Peggies while they're sleeping and they weren't even soldiers! Everything is not black and white when it comes to right and wrong, especially not now in the situation we're in."

"You're just saying that to make yourself feel better," Staci hisses. "Wait until the county finds out. You'll be exiled. You'll never be safe again as long as you're here and the moment this war is over, Whitehorse will make you hand in your badge and you'll be lucky if you're not thrown in jail for treason. Or dead. You're the biggest disappointment this department has ever seen. You're parents would be ashamed of you. I hope you're happy."

The words stung like boiling water on her skin.

"You can go to Hell," Braeden growled. "And to think that I actually felt bad because of whatever Jacob might have put you through. What a joke. If this county can't survive on their own, that's their problem. All they've done is rely on me to do the heavy lifting and I'm done. I quit. They can handle the cult themselves."

Staci couldn't believe what Braeden had just said. The county is doomed and he knows it. What did he just do...

The moment Braeden reentered Jacob's office, he could tell that it hadn't gone well. She nearly slammed the door behind her and huffed, leaning against it.

"How'd it go?" Jacob questions. Her eyes flicker up to him, a glossy, lost look on them.

"I just lost my best friend, Jacob."

"So, he didn't take it well?"

Braeden shoots him a look he's never seen. It's a warning. "Can you blame him...?" she mutters, shaking her head. "He... he called me a disappointment. Said I was selfish and that my parents would be ashamed of me. Told me that Whitehorse bringing me on was a mistake and that when this is all over I'll be lucky if he doesn't make me hand in my badge, if I make it out alive."

Jacob inhales sharply. Staci wasn't just angry, he was furious.

"I would've understood if it was about things between you and him... but he didn't even mention that once. He made it all about my obligations to the county, as if I'm some supernatural creature with supernatural abilities and not just a single person." She looks up finally and locks eyes with Jacob. "I quit the Resistance, Jacob."

"What...?" he breathes out.

"I quit the Resistance. They use me and I'm sick of it. Staci made me realize that. This doesn't mean I'm joining you, but I'm not fighting against you anymore. I'm neutral from here on out."

A slight smile flickers onto Jacob's face and he approaches Braeden, cupping her face in his hand and leaning down to kiss her forehead. This is a side of Jacob that Braeden has never seen before but she'd be lying if she said she didn't like it.

"He basically threatened me, Jacob."

"What?" Jacob snapped, straighten his back quickly and looking down at her.

"He told me to wait until they found out. I'd never be safe as long as I'm here. That I'll be exiled."

"I'll make sure that doesn't happen, even if it means you staying here with me. They won't get to you, I promise."

A few days later, Jacob takes Staci for a ride. Staci is apprehensive to get in the truck with him but does anyway. The ride is quiet and Staci is preparing for whatever may happen to him but is surprised when the truck comes to a stop and Jacob puts it in park. He looks over at him.

"Aboit half a mile up the road is one of the outposts Braeden took from me."

Staci furrows his brow, hand on the doorhandle. Is this some sort of trick...?

"W-what?"

"You heard me. Now get out of the truck before I change my mind."

"You're letting me go? Just like that?"

"Do you not wanna be let go or somethin'?"

"No, no! I wanna go, I'll just-" Staci cuts himself off and goes to get out of the truck, but Jacob catches his wrist.

"And if I ever find out that you threated Braeden again, your body will never be found."

"W-what...?" Staci stammers.

"She told me what you said to her." Jacob's voice is low. Dangerous. If he wasn't frightening before, he sure is now. "I'm lettin' you go for her. Not you." Jacob lets go of his wrist. Staci exits the truck quickly and just before Jacob started it again he calls out the window. "Remember, Peaches. I keep my promises."

And with that, Jacob drove away. Staci stood by the side of the road for a minute, watching the truck disappear before leaving himself.

"How did things go with Mary May?" Jacob asks as Braeden walks through the door. She looks up at him and down to her bruised fist.

"About as well as you could expect," Braeden answers.

"You're not welcome here anymore," Mary May spat at Braeden as she walked through the door to the Spread Eagle.

"Its a free country, Mary. I just wanna talk."

"There's nothin' to talk about, Deputy. You left the Resistance so you left us."

"At least I did something for the Resistance, Mary. I don't see you out there taking back outposts or getting drugged, kidnapped, and beaten every week."

Mary came around the counter, sticking a finger in her chest. "I'm not the one that put her own selfish needs above everyone else!"

"Here we go again with the selfish thing! All you've done is use me! I do the heavy lifting while you stay here in the safety of Fall's End. You didn't even look for me when I dissapeared for days on end. Maybe I'm being selfish but it's better than using someone!"

Without warning, Mary May pulled back and swung on Braeden fast. Braeden backed up and caught her wrist swiftly and knocked her down with one square punch.

"I feel for you, Mary. I'm sorry that you can't see that what you and most of the Resistance did was wrong. I came here to talk but you weren't ready so you know how to find me when you are ready."

"Sounds like an eventual day," Jacob remarks.

Braeden nods a bit and sits down, sighing. "I need to talk to Eli."

"What? Why?"

"I owe him an explanation. It's the least I could do. And I got some intel that Staci made it to the Wolf's Den. I wanna speak for myself before whatever bullshit he told them sets in..."

The mention of his name causes pang of guilt and sadness to hit her in the chest. She'd never admit it, but she misses him. She misses him a lot.

"Well," Jacob says, standing up. "I don't think it's a good idea, but I won't tell ya what to do." He goes to leave but Braeden calls after him.

"Hey, did you ever figure out how he escaped?"

Jacob responds with a mere handshake and disappears out of sight.

And so Braeden went to the Wolf's Den. Cautious at first in order to avoid being shot but able relaxes a bit after seeing that the Wolf's Den is mostly empty.

"Eli...?" Braeden calls out softly. "Are you here?"

"In here," Eli calls back. Braeden enters the Den and into the weaponry. Eli glances up at her and smiles softly, a pleasant surprise. "What's up, Deputy?"

"I assume you've heard about me and Jacob and my leaving the Resistance," she says, leaning against the doorframe.

"I have," Eli replies.

"You're not gonna... I dunno, cuss me out? Yell at me? Call me selfish?"

"I think you've got enough of that from everyone else."

"You're not... mad?"

"If I'm being honest, I was. I was furious. But then Deputy Pratt found his way here after Jacob let him go and told me everything that happened between you two." He sets down his bow he's cleaning and turns to face her. "It got me thinkin' that you're right. We placed too much responsibility on you. I don't necessarily approve, but I understand."

Jacob let Staci go...? Braeden wonders. Why did he tell me he escaped...?

Braeden sighs, relieved. "I've seen some awful shit, Eli. Stuff a person should never have to see."

Eli stares at her. "I was... I was leading a group to get supplies. There were a bunch of Peggies camping around it. Mothers and fathers. Children. They couldn't even fight back, Eli. They didn't even have weapons but they got massacred. It wasn't self defense. It was murder."

"That's horrible, Dep. I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Me too. I wish I could scrub the images from my head."

Eli stares at her for a second, crossing his arms. "Can I ask you somethin', Dep?"

"Sure, Eli."

"Whaddya see in Jacob...?"

Braeden laughs a little bit, crossing one leg over the other. "I was waiting for you to ask that." She looks at the floor and then back up at him. "I... I really don't know. It's just different with him. I'm not 'The Deputy' when I'm with him, not anymore. I'm just... Braeden. I never thought in a million years we would've ended up like this. When I saw him in that church..." her thought trails off and is cut off by Jacob's voice coming through her radio.

"I guess that's your cue to go," Eli says.

Braeden nods softly and turns, preparing to leave but turns back around and throws her arms around his shoulders. "Thank you, Eli. For everything."

With that, she disappeared out of the Wolf's Den and Eli sighed, content. As long as she's happy, the Resistance will survive.

Over the next few weeks, the war between the cult and the Resistance has come to a standstill. Members of each side no long go out of their way to harm each other. An effect of Braeden leaving the Resistance, maybe, no one's quite sure. What everyone can agree on, though, is that the standstill certainly isn't a bad thing.

Staci has seen what's been happening. He sees the seemingly peacefulness in the county. He can't help but wonder if Braeden's absence has caused this. Her being with Jacob no doubtly slows his operation, which in turn slows everything else down.

Or maybe it was intentional.

He doesn't know.

What he does know, though, is that he needs to talk to Braeden. It's been a month, at least. Jacob releasing him got him thinking and now he's thinking he was wrong the whole time.

He ruined the relationship with his best friend because he couldn't see things from her perspective. He doesn't know what she's gone through these last months. He doesn't know the things she's seen, how close she's come to death. All he cared about was him.

"Hey, Eli...?" Staci mutters.

Eli glances up at him from the camera screens. "What's up, Pratt?"

Staci sighs. "I think I fucked up..."

Eli turns his whole attention to Staci. "Braeden?"

"Yeah." Staci takes a deep breath. "I might've ruined our whole friendship and for what? Because I held her up to impossible standards? Because I couldn't realize that she's human like the rest of us?"

"Well, to be fair she did some pretty inhuman stuff. The fact that she was able to do so much against Eden's Gate by herself would make anyone forget she's human."

"I still was an asshole. And then Jacob released me and... I dunno."

"It made you rethink everything?"

Staci nods. "Yeah. Yeah, it did."

Eli sighs a bit. "You know, I used to work for Jacob before all this cult shit happened."

"You did?"

Eli chuckles. "Who do you think built all the cult shit?"

"Oh..."

"Anyway, I used to work for Jacob and we... we were friends. He wasn't... he wasn't a bad person. I still don't believe he's a bad person, he's just... misguided. They all are. They're misguided and doing misguided things."

"You call all of this misguided?"

"I mean, obviously it's not an excuse for their actions. They think they're doing the right thing, though."

Staci sighs again. "I need to talk to her... I need to apologize and make things right. I just dunno if she'll speak to me..."

Eli sighs and walks toward him, clamping a firm hand down on his shoulder. "I couldn't say I'd really blame her, but just try. Ask her to meet you. Something tells me she'll show up." With that, Eli walks away, leaving Staci with his thoughts.

Braeden walks into Jacob's office and is surprised to see the other three in there. All four of them stop talking and look at her and Braeden freezes.

"Oh shit," she mutters. "This isn't awkward at all..."

Joseph laughs a bit, motioning for her to enter further. "Come," he says.

"I mean... the last time I saw him " she points to John. "I had to throw myself down stairs to get to Hudson only for him to nearly bliss me out. And then everytime I see her she makes me go on the biggest drug trip I've ever had."

"Nice to see you too, Deputy," John states, his voice laced with sarcasm. Faith just smiles softly.

"Braeden. Just call me Braeden." She walks over and the chair and sits down.

"Where're you been?" Jacob asks.

"Needed to clear my head," Braeden responds distantly.

"Why?"

She looks up at him, arms crossed over her chest. "Staci. He called me on my radio and said he wanted to meet with me to talk."

"What? Why?"

"How am I supposed to know!?"

Jacob sighs, nodding. "Are you?"

"Gonna meet with him? I dunno. I kinda wanna hear what he has to say."

"If ya do, I'm goin' with."

"Fine. I don't care. I'm gonna go take a shower." Braeden stands up and walks toward the bathroom, stopping to kiss Jacob on the cheek. He watches her disappear before turning back to his siblings.

Together, Braeden and Jacob ventured to the meeting spot with Staci: Hawkeye Tunnel. They arrive first and wait and wait for what feels like forever until finally another truck pulls up and Staci steps out.

"Thank you for meeting me," Staci says quietly, coming to a stop a few feet in front of them. His eyes dart to Jacob briefly before settling back on Braeden.

"I wanted to hear what you have to say," Braeden responds. "I figured I owe you that."

"No, you don't owe me anything, but thank you anyway."

It's strange for Braeden to see him wearing something besides his uniform. Over these last few months that's all she's ever seen him wear.

Staci takes a deep breath that turns into a sigh. He crosses his arms and starts talking. "I want to apologize."

"You-what?" Braeden stumbles over her words.

"I... I was an asshole. I see that now. It wasn't fair for me to expect you to save the whole county. I never stopped to think about what it could be doing to you. Truth is, I just didn't want to see something bad happen to because of him," he glances at Jacob. "But then he let me go and it got me thinking that maybe... maybe I was wrong about you and him."

From the corner of her eye, Braeden watches Jacob tense up at the mention of him letting Staci go.

"Why did that make you change your mind?" Braeden questions, taking a few steps forward.

Staci looks at Jacob, then back to Braeden. "Because he showed me that he really cares about you and that's all I've ever wanted for you, Braeden. You're not only my coworker, but my best friend-my sister. And I don't want to see you hurt. But now I realize I was the only one hurting you."

Braeden smiles at him softly and closes the gap between them, throwing her arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly. Surprised, but relieved, Staci hugs her back.

"That's all I wanted from you, Staci," Braeden whispers. "I couldn't understand why you never brought up being mad about us because of things between you and Jacob, but now I get it." She pulls back and looks him in the eyes. "It was never about you and him. It was about him and I."

After the friendship was repaired, things in the county got even better. Braeden even managed to convince Joseph to stop everything. To stop killing people and kidnapping people. Then she got the Resistance on board for the truce and everything was peaceful again, but that's story for another time.

Not to say that everything went back how it was before, because there was no going back to that, but it's normal. Their normal. And the people of the county wouldn't have it other way.

[lopithecusfanfiction]

Then There Were Three: Chapter One

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden  Rating: Mature Word Count: 4169 Alternate: AO3 Summary: “He pulls out the birth control pills. “These are birth control pills. I haven’t taken one yet so you need to make sure I do. I’ll need to take one every day I’m in heat. I’ll be too out of it to remember myself. This is very important, Aaron.” Aaron nods and reaches for them, taking the packet from Robert’s hands and inspecting it.”

One fateful heat at the lodge changes everything for Robert and everyone around him. Warnings: 

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

Mpreg

Canon-Typical Violence

Slow-ish burn (only because it follows canon quite closely)

Canon compliant (just with a baby added to the mix)

Somewhat canon divergent (yes I know that contradicts the previous tag)

Alpha Aaron

Omega Robert

Not exactly your traditional omegaverse (I make up my own rules because I'm picky with these things)

with that being said

there aren't enough of these in this fandom

The abuse era will make an appearance later on

But first we have to get through all the previous shit that happened prior

Other Additional Tags to Be Added (probably)

Author's Note: Don’t tell my other wip fics about this one. I just… couldn’t get it out of my head. It’s been a long time since I’ve written smut so, please be gentle with me. Also, I obviously had to change how the lodge scene went for this work. ;) At the beginning of this, Aaron has yet to be told by Paddy what Robert tried to do to him. This is going to follow pretty closely to canon but obviously some things have to change as well. Please heed the tags. I hope you all enjoy!

“It’s only for a few days,” Robert tells Chrissie as he packs up a duffle bag full of clothes. He had made arrangements earlier with Aaron to meet up at the cabin in the disguise of Robert going to a machinery convention. It was going to be a special opportunity for the two of them, Robert having asked Aaron if he would like to spend Robert’s heat together. That’s what Chrissie is mostly worried about now.

“What about your heat?” she asks him as she follows him around. “You’re supposed to start soon.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already taken a suppressant,” he lies.

Chrissie pulls him into her embrace, holding him there, and asserting herself as the alpha who is in charge. “I could always go with you, make sure you’re okay. Suppressants fail sometimes, Robert.” Robert knows she’s trying to come off as seductive but it fails completely. He’s too excited about seeing Aaron.

He wriggles out of her grasp. He’s never actually liked how traditional Chrissie can get with the alpha and omega roles. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever get comfortable with it. “It’s unlikely.” Robert resists the urge to sigh himself when he hears Chrissie do one. “Look, when I get back, we can book a weekend retreat. Make it up for missing my heat.”

“Hmm,” she pulls him in again. “It won’t be as fun as sharing a heat with you but Paris or Barcelona sounds fun.”

Robert plasters on his best, charming smile and kisses her. “If that’s what you want.” He kisses her one last time and that seems to satisfy her. Chrissie leaves him alone after that, allowing him to pack in peace. He smiles when he receives a text from Aaron a few minutes later, stating that he’ll see him there. Double checking that he has the birth control pills snugly in his pocket, Robert drives off, feeling almost giddy about meeting the other alpha.

When he gets to the lodge, Aaron is waiting for him outside, drinking a beer. They banter a little about Robert being late but soon enter the building, Robert looking around. It’s small and not something he would normally choose to spend a heat in but it’s cozy and will have to do. “You know what? I like it,” he comments, heading straight to the bedroom. He presses down on the mattress, already feeling the instinctual need to nest. “Not bad, this.”

Aaron shrugs, beer still in hand. “Yeah, it’ll do,” he says, as if reading Robert’s mind. When Robert looks at him, the alpha squirms, switching his weight from one foot to the other.

Robert chuckles, watching Aaron. “Have you ever shared a heat before?” Aaron purses his lips, pretends to think, and then shakes his head. Robert furrows his brows in confusion. “Never? Not with… Jackson or, what was his name, Ed?”

Aaron shrugs again. “Jackson was an alpha and Ed was a beta.”

Robert nods. “I’ve never been with another omega before,” he says, trying a round-a-bout way of commenting on the fact that Aaron was with someone of the same caste without insulting the alpha. It’s a rarity, for caste members to hook up with each other.

“Wasn’t bad,” Aaron goes on to say. “Besides, after the accident…” he trails off and Robert doesn’t push.

With a deep breath, Robert moves on, facing Aaron and stepping up to him. He pulls out the birth control pills. “These are birth control pills. I haven’t taken one yet so you need to make sure I do. I’ll need to take one every day I’m in heat. I’ll be too out of it to remember myself. This is very important, Aaron.” Aaron nods and reaches for them, taking the packet from Robert’s hands and inspecting it. “Since you’re new to this, I’m going to explain a little bit of what’s going to happen. When omegas are about to go into heat, they start nesting.”

“Nesting?”

Robert nods and walks away, looking the room over. He doesn’t have much time before he starts his heat, so he’s going to have to multitask. “Nesting is when an omega gathers things around them that make them feel safe. Usually it involves things that have their alpha’s scent but if you don’t have an alpha, then it can be anything really.”

“Did you bring something of Chrissie’s then?” Aaron asks, taking a step closer.

Robert tsks, straightening from where he was bent over and smoothing out the duvet. “No.” Robert stares at him, waiting for things to click but when they don’t, he smirks in amusement. “You are completely clueless when it comes to these things.” He laughs and ignores Aaron’s annoyed face. “Since I’m sharing my heat with you, it would be dangerous to bring something with Chrissie’s scent. It could go one of two ways: you destroy whatever it was or you hunt her down and kill her.” He sees Aaron gulp. “Omegas aren’t the only ones who get a little out of it when it comes to a heat.”

Aaron squirms again. He’s clutching onto the little packet of birth control pills as if his life depends on it. “Is that why you don’t smell like her right now?”

He nods. “I made sure to spray myself with a scent dampener. I don’t need you to go off all crazy.” He picks up a lamp off the nightstand. “Now I won’t be able to properly nest but I’ll make do. This is the ugliest lamp I have ever seen. Here,” he holds it out to Aaron. “Get rid of it, would you?”

Aaron takes the lamp and leaves the room. He doesn’t return for a while and Robert starts to wonder what is taking so long. Maybe Aaron is having a little mini freak out. Robert decides to leave him to it. He’s got more important things to worry about. After he digs through the closet and takes out every single sheet and pillow that is there, dumping the contents onto the bed, he looks around the room. Something seems missing. “Aaron!” he calls. It doesn’t take Aaron long to reenter the room. “Where’s that lamp?”

Aaron gestures with his head. “It’s in the other room.”

“What’s it doing out there?” Robert asks, incredulous. He can already feel his body heat rising and slick is starting to form between his legs. “Bring it back.”

“But you-”

“Just bring it back,” Robert snaps and Aaron does as he’s told. When he returns, Robert grabs the lamp and sets it down on the bureau. He studies it for a while before deciding it’s fine there and moves on. He finds some more pillows in the bottom drawer of the bureau. He wonders if the people who rent this lodge out prepare the room for secret rendezvous heats. When he’s done throwing those onto the bed — he’s got quite the pile — he looks around the room one last time. Eyes landing on the lamp, he grimaces and picks it up. “God, get this ugly thing out of here.” He holds it out to Aaron who looks at him in bewilderment.

“Is this how all omegas act during heat?” Aaron asks, voice laced with amusement as he grabs the lamp and leaves the room once more.

Robert smiles after him before looking around the room one last time. He can feel himself being pulled into the haze of heat, his underwear being completely soaked through now. The nest will have to do with how he’s got it. Robert doesn’t have any more time to tweak it. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Robert waits until Aaron comes back, rocking his hips back and forth to try and relieve some of the pressure.

It doesn’t take Aaron long to return and Robert watches as the alpha stops to sniff the air. Robert reaches out for Aaron, not being able to hold back any longer. “God, Robert, you smell good,” Aaron says as he approaches.

Robert grabs a hold of Aaron’s waist and buries his nose in Aaron’s stomach. He groans, taking a deep breath in, enjoying the smell of Aaron. He can tell the alpha is already hard, a reaction to Robert’s own arousal. “Need you,” he mumbles against Aaron’s belly, eyes closed and breathing deeply.

Aaron runs a hand through Robert’s hair and down to his chin, pushing him away slightly. Robert whines with the loss. “Okay, hang on,” Aaron says gently, fishing something out of his jean’s pocket. It’s the little packet of birth control. Robert watches as Aaron pops one out and then reaches for a mug of water that he must have placed there sometime earlier. “Take this.”

Robert does as he’s told, swallowing the little pill down with ease. “Now?” he asks, looking up at Aaron through his eyelashes. Aaron’s hand is still on his face, thumb stroking his cheek. With a quick, curt nod from Aaron, Robert quickly unzips Aaron’s trousers and pulls out his cock from his boxers. He wraps his mouth around the head, sucking as he swallows him down.

Aaron groans in pleasure and twists his fingers in Robert’s hair, holding him there as he rocks his hips back and forth. Robert lets Aaron use his mouth as he reaches behind himself, shoving his hands down the back of his own trousers in order to try and get a couple fingers in him, not being able to take the pressure anymore. Aaron notices and pulls out of Robert’s mouth, batting Robert’s hand away from its destination. “Stop,” Aaron mumbles, leaning down. “Let me…” He unbuttons the first few buttons of Robert’s shirt before giving up and just pulling the whole thing off over his head. He then moves onto Robert’s trousers.

“I’ve heard omegas can easily overheat during their heat if they’re not careful,” Aaron casually mentions as he unbuttons and unzips Robert’s jeans. “Is that true?” Robert hears the question, almost even wants to answer him, but all he can think about is getting Aaron’s cock in him. So, when Aaron stops for a second to ask, “Robert?” Robert pushes forward and kisses him on the lips with all he’s got. Aaron gently pushes him back and away, continuing his mission of removing all of Robert’s clothes. When he gets to Robert’s boxers, he moans. “Jesus, Robert, you’re soaking wet already.”

Robert buries his face in Aaron’s neck. “Need you so bad.” He whines, licking a stripe up to his ear. “Please, Aaron.”

“I know. Just give me a sec.” Aaron throws the boxers off to the side and slides out of his own clothes. Robert watches in awe. Aaron really is beautiful. Robert doesn’t know how Aaron isn’t tied down yet with another omega.

Robert whines again, the ache of not being filled starting to act up. He always hated this part of a heat; the cramping that would coincide it if you didn’t have a cock or a dildo to shove up yourself. It makes omegas too dependent on others and as someone who hates to conform to the norm of the castes — yes, Robert does realize the irony in that, considering how many times he’s claimed to be straight and hides the fact that he’s into men as well — he dislikes that his heats make him act like a needy omega who needs a nice strong alpha’s cock up his arse.

He even hated it with Chrissie even though Chrissie likes being a traditional alpha in the relationship. But with Aaron, Robert doesn’t seem to mind it as much. He doesn’t mind giving up a bit of control and just wanting Aaron with all his being. Because with Aaron, it makes Robert want to be free, to be himself.

Robert buries his nose in the hair found on Aaron’s stomach, breathing him in once more. “Hurts.”

Aaron runs a hand through Robert’s hair once again. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” He pushes Roebert back and encourages Robert to slide back on the bed. “Get on your hands and knees.” Robert does, presenting his arse to Aaron who joins behind him. Two of Aaron’s fingers enter him with ease and Robert can’t hold back the moan. Aaron doesn’t take much time in preparing him. Robert doesn’t need it. Instead, Aaron gathers some of the slick that has run down Robert’s thighs and coats his cock in it before finally pushing inside Robert slowly.

Robert keens, he can’t help it. It feels so good, amazing, and he wants, needs , more. Aaron wastes no time at all before he’s pulling back out and sliding back in, the lude wet sound at the movement only turning Robert on even more. He’s not going to last long, never does during the first round when he’s in heat. There’s just too much pent up arousal to make it last.

Aaron, as if thinking the same, quickens his pace, the slick that Robert’s body naturally produces making each thrust easier and easier. They are both panting loudly, Robert’s arms shaking, and Aaron’s grip on his hips bruising. Robert hopes he won’t have visible marks there but at the moment he really can’t bring himself to care. The haze of heat is too much to think clearly. All he wants is more, more, more.

“Robert,” Aaron gasps. They both are sweating profusely, the exertion of the act taking its toll. “Robert, should I-” Aaron swallows, loud and quick. “Should I knot you?”

“God, yes,” Robert groans because that’s all he wants right now. “Please, Aaron.”

Aaron does, his knot slipping in easily, tying them together. Robert comes then, Aaron’s knot pressing down on his prostate hard. Slick gushes out of him, cock spurting cum onto the mattress. He moans loudly, body shaking with pleasure. He doesn’t even notice when Aaron reaches his own climax, cumming inside Robert. What Robert doesn’t miss is how Aaron’s forehead presses painfully into the back of his neck, most likely to stop himself from biting Robert, marking him as his.

They collapse onto the mattress and Aaron rearranges them so they both are on their side instead of Aaron suffocating Robert. They’ll have to stay like this for a while, at least until Aaron is done and his knot goes down. Robert doesn’t mind much, the haze starting to fade but exhaustion taking over. He succumbs to it, allowing himself to fall asleep in Aaron’s arms.

*~~~*

They fall into a pattern for the next two days. Aaron will fuck him, knot him, then they’ll sleep for about an hour before Aaron gets up and grabs them something to eat. In between the haze, Robert had to make sure to tell Aaron that it was the alpha’s job to make sure the omega was staying hydrated and fed. Aaron seemed to be a little put out by this but once Robert explained that the reasoning is that omegas won’t think about it most times themselves, Aaron seemed fine with it.

It’s the beginning of the fourth day and Robert had woken Aaron up with a blow job that quickly escalated to Aaron knotting Robert nicely. At the moment, Robert has his face buried in Aaron’s neck, scenting him. Aaron nips at his ear. “This wasn’t the greatest position to get tied together in.”

Robert hums in agreement but he doesn’t mind it too much. They are facing each other which means Aaron has no choice but to hold him close, Robert’s legs wrapped snugly around Aaron’s waist. They both are sticky with sweat and cum, neither of them having taken a shower yet. They probably should but Robert has a hard enough time letting Aaron go to get food, let alone to go take a shower. Maybe he should suggest taking a shower together but it wouldn’t be a good idea to fuck in there and get tied together. Aaron might be strong but he’s not strong enough to carry Robert back to the bed.

There’s a knock on the door, something neither of them are expecting, so it makes the two jump. “Who could that be?” Aaron asks, trying to sit up. His knot is already going down, lasting a shorter amount of time the longer they get into Robert’s heat.

Robert pulls him back down, sucks a spot on his neck. It’s okay if Robert marks him. “Leave it.”

The knock comes again, this time with a familiar voice following it. “Aaron?”

“Paddy?” Aaron shrugs Robert’s hold off and pulls out of him. Robert falls back onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

“What is he doing here?” he asks, throwing an arm behind his head. He’s suddenly feeling very territorial.

“I don’t know. I didn’t even tell him where I was going.” Aaron gets up off the bed, pulling a pair of joggers on. “I’ll get rid of him.”

Robert pulls Aaron down and kisses him messily, tongue shoving into Aaron’s mouth. “Make it quick.”

Aaron smirks at him as he pulls on a jumper and then leaves the room. Robert lies there and listens, the two out in the living room talking with hushed voices. Curious, Robert gets up off the bed and approaches the door that Aaron left a jar, eavesdropping.

“Aaron you have to listen to me,” Paddy pleads. “You have no idea how hard it was to figure out where you were.”

“I don’t even know why you felt the need to find me in the first place, Paddy.” Aaron sounds agitated. Paddy is a beta so it wouldn’t be the fact that another alpha was threatening his time with his omega. No, it would have be purley emotion based, Aaron not wanting to be interrupted with his time with Robert. Somehow, this makes Robert’s pride increase.

“That’s just it, Aaron. I have something important to tell you, about Robert.”

It’s not until Robert hears the end of footsteps that he realizes Aaron was pacing. “What about Robert?”

“Is he here?”

A pause, almost like a hesitation. “Yeah. He’s in the bedroom. In heat.”

“Heat?” Paddy sounds incredulous. “Please tell me you aren’t spending his heat with him.”

“So what if I am?”

“Aaron!” Paddy remarks. “I can’t believe this.”

“What did you need to tell me?” Robert can hear Aaron’s eye roll in his voice.

Paddy’s voice drops into a whisper. “He’s dangerous, Aaron.”

“What do you mean?” Aaron still sounds irritated, as if he has zero patience for any of this right now. Robert doesn’t blame him. Both their bodies are pumped full of hormones at the moment. It’s all Robert can do to not go out there, growl at Paddy to go away, and drag Aaron back to bed.

“He tried to kill me.” Robert’s hackles immediately rise. “If Robert had his way, I would have suffocated in that grain pit. It happened after I tried to warn Chrissie about Robert cheating.” Robert swallows, feeling his heart rate speed up in his chest. “Aaron, he admitted to it and then threatened Leo and Rhona if I didn’t back off.”

“You’re lying. He wouldn’t do that.”

“He wouldn’t do it?” Paddy practically yells but quickly recovers, going back into a whisper. “Aaron, of course, he’d do it. He’s a psychopath.” Robert bites his bottom lip to stop himself from growling out loud. “What kind of person threatens a kid?”

He can hear Aaron walking again. “He’s been lying to me this whole time.” It sounds like Aaron is crying and Robert has heard enough.

He barges through the door, not caring that he has no clothes on. “No, that is not true!”

“Isn’t it?” Aaron asks, spinning to face him. There are definite tears in his eyes and Robert has to resist the urge to go up to him and wipe them away. “How could you?” He pushes past Robert, bumping into his shoulder on his way, and goes back into the bedroom.

Robert follows him, feeling the panic start to settle in his chest. “What are you doing?” he asks as he watches Aaron packing his clothes into the duffle bag he brought.

“There is no way I am going to spend the rest of your heat with you,” Aaron says, venom lacing his words. “Not after what you did to Paddy!”

“No.”

“And threatening Rhona? Leo?” Aaron growls as he finishes packing, eyes narrowed in deadly anger. “What? Katie wasn’t enough for you?”

“Don’t you dare bring that up,” Robert warns. He can already feel the next wave of heat coming to the surface. He internally begs for it to wait, to hold off just a little longer.

“Did you purposely kill her too?”

“Don’t.”

“Did you smash her brains in and then made it look like an accident?” Aaron gets right in his face. “What did you do, Robert?”

“I only pushed her!” Aaron takes a step back, rubbing a hand down his face. “It was still an accident, Aaron.”

“No,” Aaron looks at him, eyes full of tears and regret and hatred. “No, that’s murder.”

Robert shakes his head. “D-don’t call it that.”

“It’s what it is and you let me live with that guilt.” He pokes a finger into Robert’s chest. “It nearly destroyed me and all along it was your fault?” Aaron grimaces and shakes his head, a look of pain crossing his face. “You can’t take being gay, so you kill people.”

“No, Aaron, no.”

Aaron shoves past him again and Robert follows. Paddy is still standing there, waiting and watching. “Get away from me, Robert.”

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

“No, Aaron, you can’t.” Robert begs, the panic and fear constricting his chest.

“Watch me.” Robert jogs past Aaron and blocks his way out. “Move.”

Robert shakes his head. “Don’t you get it? I’m in heat, Aaron.”

“And I’m supposed to still care?” Aaron tsks and tries to get past Robert but Robert stands strong.

“Without you here, I could wander off,” Robert explains desperately. “If I pass any alphas that are out there… they won’t be able to stop themselves, Aaron.”

Something in Aaron’s eyes spark and Robert watches as the alpha bites his bottom lip before shoving his duffle bag towards Paddy. He then walks out of the room and returns with something bunched up in his hand. “Come with me.”

Robert, confused, follows him. They stop in front of a radiator and Aaron grabs one of his wrists. “What are you doing?” Aaron ties a piece of fabric around his wrist and then loops it around the radiator, tying the other end around his other wrist. “You’re tying me up?” Aaron says nothing and walks away, leaving Robert to pull at them. “You can’t leave me like this, Aaron!” Aaron doesn’t return. “Aaron, please!” He flinches when he hears the front door slam shut.

“Aaron!” Robert’s breathing is coming in ragged gulps. Aaron doesn’t understand the impact, the panic, that an alpha leaving an omega in heat can cause. “Aaron!” He pulls at his bindings again. He frantically pulls and pulls and pulls until he knows there is going to be bruising. “Aaron!” Robert notes how scared his own voice sounds, how shaky it is, but ignores the fact for the sake of trying to escape. He doesn’t know how, but eventually the knot on one of his wrists loosens and with one last tug, he breaks free from the binding, falling onto his arse.

By now, he’s already in the haze of a panicked heat, not being able to see straight at all. He groans in pain as a particularly painful cramp squeezes at his insides and he struggles to stand. Stumbling, he makes his way to the front door and leaves the lodge, futilely looking for Aaron. He’s panting and sweating heavily, slick running down the inside of his thighs mixed with Aaron’s cum. He needs someone, anyone, to help him and when he trips, falling to the ground, he rolls over onto his side and groans, clutching onto his painful stomach.

The haze overtakes him, blurring whatever comes next, and when it dissipates, he’s lying on the ground still, sweaty and cold. Robert sits up, glad to see he didn’t wander too far from the lodge and he can only smell Aaron on himself, which means he didn’t encounter any other alphas. He carefully gets up off the ground, brushing off the dead leaves from his body and makes his way back to the lodge.

It’s not until he’s back in the building that the panic settles in his gut again. Knowing he has to get home as soon as possible to try and make everything right, Robert quickly takes a shower and then starts packing everything up. Once everything is away in his duffel, he grabs the little packet of birth control off the nightstand where Aaron left it and shoves it into his jean’s pocket, not paying attention to the fact that only one of the pills is missing.

———————————————————————————————————–

A/N: Thanks for reading!

[idontgiveaflyinggrayson69]

Four Years Later, Part 2: My Girl

Author: Nat / @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

Requested: Yes – Anonymous X4

Tagging: @thisismysecrethappyplace @phoenix-fire-fangirl

Fandom: Titans

Relationship: Post-Established; Dick Grayson x Reader

Summary: Jason tries to pull some moves with Dick’s ex and Dick really doesn’t like that.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: None.

Comments: You don’t need to read Part 1 for understand this. This could stand as its own fic!

Link to Part 1

Dick had had it with Jason. He was done with the world and the people who were after them (well, Rachel, but still), and then he found that he had been replaced and locked out of all of Bruce’s safe houses and technology. And his replacement was a little angry but enthusiastic puppy that gave him a headache. So yeah, Dick had had it with Jason. And that was putting things kindly.

But Dick had to put up with little Jason, even if he really didn’t want to because Jason wouldn’t leave. He flat out refused to go like gum stuck to the bottom of Dick’s shoe. It annoyed Dick, but he had bigger fish to fry than Jason, so he didn’t dedicate that much energy into making him leave. For now.

Instead, Dick called you and told you to bring Rachel and the others to his location where it would be safer. He left out the information about Jason, but you knew Dick. The two of you had been together for years before both of you broke it off four years ago. When everything started to go down with Rachel, Dick went to Dawn, your best friend for help, but ended up getting tangled up with the mess. When Dawn got hurt and Rachel got taken, you knew you had to help and Dick knew he could trust you and that you were more than capable of handling this kind of situation, so it worked out pretty well. You just didn’t know that the three of you would soon become five with the additions of Kory and Gar, and later six with the addition of Jason.  

But, as you said, you knew Dick and while he didn’t mention Jason or anything like that, you knew that he was hiding something that was bothering him. You could hear it in his voice. But, you didn’t say anything. You knew Dick and you knew that if you asked him about it over the phone, he would hang up. Honestly, you expected the thing to be bothering him to be something about Bruce and it be relatively small. The last thing you expected was to walk into a safe house to find another, new Robin.

You knew, of course, that there was another, new Robin since you operated out of Gotham. You just didn’t know who he was, and you certainly never expected to get involved him with. After Dick, you swore off Robins…

The moment you found out that Jason was the new Robin: Dick’s replacement, you knew how messy things would become and just how distraught Dick would be over the matter. The was the main reason you stayed silent, choosing only to spare a quick glance in Dick’s direction during the conversation. You and Dick had joked while the two of you were together that you knew Dick better than Dick knew himself and you knew that Dick had a really hard time vocalizing his emotions and that sometimes talking about things broke the dam in an uncontrollable way. And right now none of you could afford to have Dick’s emotions get control of him. So, you didn’t ask.

But Jason was still there. And Jason was cute. Not an “you’re attractive” cute, but a “you’re just so small and adorable” cute. But he was the new Robin. The fact that he was the new Robin drew you to Jason so you kept looking at him. You could only explain it in the scenario of imaging you were standing in a silent room and then you heard a sound. You would turn to the sound to see what was there. That was what it was like with Jason.

But Jason had a different idea about why you kept looking at him that couldn’t be further from the truth.

You had your back turned to Jason while you were talking with Rachel and Gar while Dick and Kory were in the bathroom with Anderson when Jason leaned onto the table to your right with a small smirk on his lips. You stopped your conversation with Rachel and Gar and turned to look at Jason, resting your hip into the table in the process. “Can I help you?”

Jason’s lips twitched a little more before he unabashedly ran his eyes up and down your body, his beer still in hand. You couldn’t help but cock your eyebrow at his action.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been checking me out since you got here and I haven’t had the chance to come introduce myself to you personally yet. I’m Jason, but you can call me any time you’d like.” Jason flirted with you and you felt your lips twitch a little over how cute you thought it was that he believed you were interested in him and that he had a chance with you.

“Okay, Jason.” You replied with a nod of your head, moving to go back to your conversation with Rachel and Gar when Jason grabbed your arm and stopped you.

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” Jason asked with a lazy smile that you had seen on Dick’s lips so many times, a learned trait from Bruce no doubt.

You decided to play into his little game and shook your head. “No, I don’t know think anyone has. Why?”

Jason’s eyes darkened a bit and you forced yourself to hold in the laughter you so desperately wanted to let out. “I could show you.”

You tilted your chin a bit and raised an eyebrow. “You could, huh?”

Jason nodded his head and stepped towards you, placing his beer on the table. “Yeah, I could.”

And Dick took that exact moment to reenter the room to see Jason, not subtly at all, trying to pull some moves with you and you lettinghim. It was like you could feel Dick’s blood pressure rising.

“No.” Dick said sternly, pointing at Jason before gesturing to back off. Jason, unsurprisingly didn’t listen.

“I said no.” Dick repeated, walking across the room to grab Jason by his hoodie and pull him away from you, leaving Kory in the entryway of the room. “You already took Robin you are not taking her. Not to mention she is way out of your league.”

You raised an eyebrow at Dick, not that he could see you.

“Just stay away.” Dick said giving Jason another shove before glancing back to you and walking out of the room to “get some air.”

Kory followed after him, despite his many attempts to get her to leave him alone.

“You should tell her you still love her.” Kory said to him.

“It’s not that simple.” Dick replied, still trying to get her to go away.

“And what if it is, Dick?” Kory asked softly causing Dick to stop in his tracks. “What if you just tell her you love her and everything gets better?”

Dick was quiet for a moment before he tightened his lips and buried his emotions under a slab of concrete. “We don’t live in a fantasy world. Nothing’s that simple, Kory.”

Link to Part 3

[mcwriting]

Dance Dance Revolution

Welllllll the other night I couldn't sleep and wrote basically this entire thing in my head. It’s kinda based on how I feel about dance auditions and also slightly inspired by a dance moms clip I saw where the girls auditioned to be in a MattyB music video and it caused ~drama~. The reader description is kind of based on myself bc even though I’ve been dancing forever, I’m definitely bigger than a size 2 and it usually surprises people when I tell them about my dancing.

Fandom: Tom Holland (is this even a fandom anymore honestly)

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Setting: A dance studio, duh

Word Count: 2,144

Warnings: bratty teenage girls?

Rating: idk fam, but it’s pretty tame

Background: You are a dancer at a small company who does it for the pure joy of dancing. When your studio is chosen to be a part of Tom Holland’s next movie, tensions mount between dancers as each hopes to be selected to dance with him on camera. 

Yeah I’m really bad at summaries okay I’m sorry

 reader is at least 18, and maybe a sr in high school or a freshman in college.

---

You took a big gulp of water before wiping some sweat from your forehead. You and your 12 classmates had been given few minutes to recover from barre before heading to center port de bras. 

You were one of the advanced dancers at the studio, having been doing ballet since early childhood along with other genres like contemporary and hip hop. Unlike some of the other girls, though, you didn't necessarily “look” the part of a typical dancer. You weren't tall and flat-stomached, but it never hindered you from performing and advancing in skill.

As everyone began heading towards the center, the door was opened by none other than the studio owner, Alyssa. She had a wide smile on her face as she quietly shut the door behind her. She asked your teacher for permission to interrupt class a moment and then moved to the center of the mirrors. 

“Girls, I have an important announcement,” she began, causing everyone to look around in confusion as she continued. 

“Our studio has been selected to be filmed in a new movie starring Tom Holland!” 

With that exclamation, there followed gasps and squeals, and you couldn't help the smile that stretched across your cheeks and the butterflies in your stomach.

“Wait, wait. Now before you get too excited, I have one more announcement,” Alyssa interjected, exclaiming, “In only a couple short weeks, we will be hosting an audition for one of you to dance a duet with Tom, and even if you aren't chosen, all thirteen of you will still be onscreen in the class shots!”

Everyone started jumping around and squealing even more in excitement.

With that, she left you to the mercy of your teacher, and none of you could help but feel ecstatic about the situation as you finished up ballet class.

The following Saturday, you turned on your favorite playlist and began stretching in one of the smaller studios. Very few people other than Alyssa and the people working in the attached dance store would be at the studio today and you had been given permission to work alone. Being one of the oldest dancers at the studio definitely had its perks with opportunities like this.

You also knew that some of the people working on the movie would be meeting with Alyssa, so you hoped that you could be left alone for a while to just dance. 

After warming up, you decided to freestyle dance for a while, just moving and letting the music take over you. You combined contemporary and ballet moves, doing some turns and jumps along with floor work. 

When the song you were dancing to ended, you stopped to catch your breath and get water when you noticed some people peeking through the window watching. You blushed slightly as you looked down at your attire: black work-out leggings and a tank top, hair thrown messily into a bun with wispies sticking out everywhere. 

You ultimately decided to pause the music and step into the hallway to say hi, and you found Alyssa standing with four people: One woman, two middle-aged men, and Tom Holland himself. 

“Y/n, these are some of the most important people working on the movie,” Alyssa said as you shook hands with everyone.

“You looked amazing in there,” the woman commented, garnering praise from the other people as well. 

“Thank you, that means so much! Honestly, I really wasn't even dancing, that was just some improv,” you explained.

“I can’t imagine how lovely it’d be to see you perform choreo, then,” Tom added, causing you to chuckle in reply. 

“I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that I hope you'll be auditioning in a couple weeks,” said one of the men. You nodded and said, 

“Of course, but I’m sure there will be stiff competition. I think we’ll make the choice hard for you all!”

With that, you bid them adieu and reentered the studio, pulling up a playlist of songs that you had choreographed dances to. You performed one of your favorite contemporary pieces, one that you would be doing in an upcoming show.

After finishing, sweaty and a little tired, you accidentally made eye contact through the mirror with Tom, who sent a wink before following Alyssa and the group down the hall to her office.

---

Two days later, you were getting ready for class and filling a water bottle when one of the other girls came up to you.

“I heard you got a head start on the audition,” she stated, arms crossed. 

You looked around and furrowed your brows.

“Um, I mean, I had some private studio time this weekend and the people touring with Alyssa saw me dance for a minute. Even if they had watched me a lot, though, I’m sure none of the people there will be on the audition panel.”

She gave you a look before answering with, “I guess we’ll just have to see,” then turned and walked into the studio.

---

Two weeks later, you were standing nervously in the waiting room, wearing a black leo and tights, a paper number “11″ pinned to your stomach. 

Over the past few weeks, tension had become thick with the day’s impending audition, and the girls (and some of the guys) of the studio had split on whether or not you had somehow cheated by accidentally meeting the movie heads. Along with the advanced dancers, some of the intermediates that were allowed to audition had also been swayed to see you as the bad guy.

Thankfully they hadn't discovered that you met Tom, and a good majority of people stuck by you. 

Finally everyone was called into the main studio for the ballet audition and you felt your stomach drop when you saw the panel: Tom, the other 3 people that you met, and two people that you guessed were choreographers. Alyssa was also sitting in and your teacher would be running the audition.

Alyssa then asked the panel to introduce themselves from left to right, starting with Tom, the director (the man that asked you to audition), executive producer (the other man), the casting director (the woman that complimented you), and the head and assistant choreographers.

You suddenly felt extremely nervous. Alyssa was right, the four people you had danced for really were the most important people in your life right now, and after everyone settled at the barre, the audition began.

Tom’s eyes caught yours for a second in the middle of your plie combination and he grinned, causing you to perform more and gain some confidence. 

A few hours later, you had gone through ballet, pointe, contemporary, hip hop, and musical theatre auditions and everyone was waiting for call backs. With some of the studio still split, you moved to the back of the room and talked with one of the guys that you were close with. 

The guys had also auditioned because they would be in the class scenes, even if they weren't doing a duet with Tom, per say (although the idea of any of those guys doing a major piece with Tom was kind of funny to imagine).

You leaned in and whispered into his ear, 

“The three people closest to Tom were the ones that watched me dance a few weeks ago.”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“There’s more. Tom was there too, and he obviously recognized me. But you can't tell a soul about this,” you threatened, earning a nod in confirmation. You talked for a while longer until Alyssa came out holding a folder.

“Alright everyone! You are all going to be in the film, but unfortunately only one can be the lead. Right now, I only have one callback number but please stick around for a little bit if you aren't called just in case. The lucky number isssss...” she said pausing.

You looked at the girls around you, guessing who it would be. It was most likely going to be one of the girls with the ballerina bodies and model-level faces. You crossed your arms as Alyssa called out,

“Eleven!”

You looked around trying to remember who 11 was when you felt a nudge. Your friend was elbowing your side and he said 

“Y/n, that’s you!” 

You were shocked and finally stuck an arm up to alert Alyssa that it was you. As you walked past the girls, you heard the naysayers grumbling, whispering “told ya so!” and “I can't believe this!” to each other while your friends encouraged you.

The panel stood as you entered the room, Alyssa shutting the door promptly behind herself to keep everyone else out while you went to shake everyone’s hands.

The panel praised you for your performance and asked that you and Tom would partner a little bit to make sure you fit well. They especially liked that you were shorter than him, even in pointe shoes, and hoped that you danced similarly. 

He came around the table in black joggers, a grey t-shirt, and some black ballet flats, ready to dance. The head choreographer asked you mostly to do contemporary steps, like you rolling over his back and some floor slides.

She then asked that you did a lift to see what both of you were capable of. That’s when you felt really nervous. Other than when you were a small child, you had never been the person picked up in lifts, and actually, because you were pretty strong, you were almost always the base for lifts.

You were about to protest when Tom swept you off your feet, lifting you easily into a bridal-style carry. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck and you squealed, eyes suddenly meeting his, inches away. He smiled and smoothly whispered,

“Don’t you trust me, darling?”

You smiled and nodded, and he put you down carefully. The choreographer then asked you to stand with your left leg in an arabesque while Tom stood behind you. He hooked his left elbow under the upper part of your thigh and wrapped his right arm around your stomach.

You were hyper-aware of his touch and he made sure that you were alright before you tried to jump while he lifted. The first attempt, you jumped too early and he lifted too late, causing you both to fall over and erupt into laughter, apologizing a hundred times to each other.

The second attempt though, you both were in sync, and when he got you up, you positioned your legs into a fish lift as he spun you. At the end, he dipped you into a fish dive, then gently set you down into your splits and you spun on the ground, standing to face him.

The panel clapped and murmured before the casting director finally exclaimed four fateful words,

“You've got the part!”

As Alyssa and the panel figured out paper work, you turned to Tom.

“We never properly met, I’m y/n.”

He smiled and replied,

“I know. I asked Alyssa about you that day we toured. I couldn't keep my eyes off you then or today. You’re quite the talent.”

You blushed as the two of you got to know each other, excited that you would be dancing with the man you had been crushing on for ages.

---

After the casting process, there were two weeks of rehearsals for both the company and yours and Tom’s duet. Most of the girls ended up letting go of the idea that you had “cheated” and instead became overcome with excitement. 

You and Tom had enjoyed your private rehearsals together and when the day for shooting came, you felt so comfortable with Tom that you almost forgot there were other people in the studio.  At the end of the day, both of you were exhausted and sweaty, but extremely happy with the result.

You were now sitting on the ground by your dance bag, untying your pointe shoes and wiggling your toes, relieved to finally free your feet. Suddenly you felt a warm hand on your shoulder and you turned to find Tom smiling at you.

“You were incredible, love,” he said as he helped pull you to your feet. His arms wrapped around you into a sweaty hug. Into your neck he said, “I can’t wait to bring you to the premiere.”

You pulled away, surprised.

“The premiere? What do you mean?” you questioned as he smirked.

“I want you to be my date to the premiere. Of course, that’s months away, so maybe you could settle with dinner for now?” he asked, looking up innocently.

A laugh bubbled out of you and you nodded.

“Tom Holland, I would love nothing more than to have dinner with you, no premiere required.”

With that, you began a happy relationship that resulted in many, many dates, including more than just one movie premiere.

---

A/N: lol bad ending as always. Hope you all enjoy this dumb thing I wrote. If you’re new, please check out some of my other works under the Tom tags or even my other fandom stuff. Love you guys as always!

[inopinion]

Writing prompt: "would you give everything up, if it would save him?" "No."

Another prompt given to me pre-War Storm. Forgive the late delivery.

See Part 1 here…

@lilyharvord, @mareshmallow, @redqueenfandom, @anyone-anything-canbetrayanyone, @tiberias-vii, @runexandra, @mom2reesie, @scarletguardsource,  @adraxsteia, @redqueenfandom,  @wrenskonos, @Maria-habs, @cordelnight, @naercxy, @morebooks-pls, @lamemathpuns, @booksmusicmoviesandmore, @thespacebetweenthestars, @book-fandoms-rule-the-world, @juggyandbetty, @redqueen214, @giihmonzane13…

Remember, War Storm Spoilers are involved…

And reblog to share with a friend.

Paranoia isn’t an unfamiliar partner after what I’d been through, but I am certain it’s not just my damaged psyche nor the influence of the alcohol. People are watching us. Strangers that I don’t know crane their necks and track us off the dance floor. Each step becomes a stomp that defies their judgement–real or imaginary. 

So close to him, I can’t imagine allowing enough space to do anything but test the strength of the thread holding his buttons. Cal is like no other lover I’ve ever had because there is.. was.. I guess is actual love between us. Has been, will be, forever. Some part of me belongs to him even if that part got left behind on a battlefield. Perhaps he carries it with him like I carry his earring. I’m eager to see if I can find it, the search will be fun enough of a reward.

Except, Farley looks at me like she looks at Clara when she’s headed for a collision with gravity. But I know she’ll let me fall and scrape my knees and cry just the same. Only Clara gets a cuddle and set back on her feet. Farley won’t patch the holes I tear into myself. We’ve been through too much together for me not to respect what that look means: slow down.

Just outside the door I stall. He slows to match. I swing my head around. He takes note of our surroundings. We stop entirely.

Cal is agitated, glaring at a gaping serving girl. He exudes enough warmth that I don’t think I’d need a coat even though it’s snowing. He tugs me, resigned to the gossips. But It doesn’t feel right leaving with him, not like it did before I saw Farley’s face.

“Door’s there. Or I guess we could find some place here to talk.” He waves around us. I swallow. There is no place in the palace without ears. “Second thoughts?” he asks, bitterness coating his tone as he internalizes my hesitation.

He drops my hand and runs his fingers through the curls on his head. It sticks up in weird ways showing exactly how long the top has gotten. I have a third thought, then a fourth, but that’s mostly the alcohol.

“Hey, I want to talk. We should talk. How often are we in the same place, right?”  I cringe at his wince. I’m an expert at throwing salt in his wounds. “I just don’t think now is a good time. I mean, I have had more wine than I should. We deserve clear heads, right?”

He swallows, agrees because there’s no other option being given then we hastily make plans. He is scheduled in most of the same sessions as Farley. Almost an entire week completely booked from nine to six. Dinners with various councils and factions take up his nights. I can hear the unspoken conclusion: this is the only time he isn’t already booked.

“But you have to eat lunch, right?” I ask before he can suggest otherwise.

“Provided.”

“But it’s not scheduled. I mean, it isn’t for Farley. Can you get away for lunch? I know a cafe that makes nice sandwiches.”

“Okay, lunch, I guess. I get out of session at eleven-thirty, rejoin at one-fifteen. So, at best, ninety-minutes.”

“Plenty of time,” I respond. 

Cal’s face falls. He looks as if he can’t breath, a feeling I know so well that I hurt for him. But I can’t quite fathom why he’s stricken when he never answered my last letter. 

“If you’re not ready, that’s okay. It’s okay.” He doesn’t sound like he’s talking to me but to himself, assuring himself. 

His chin snaps up in a court-trained posture. He’s let his emotions drip down his sleeves and he makes an effort to recover. 

“I meant to start talking. I didn’t mean… I don’t know Cal. Don’t look at me like that.” I can’t help but snap at his neutral mask.

The muscle in his jaw flexes. His eyes are steady and controlled, his temperature moderated, and his voice even when he says,  “Where is this cafe?”

Cal gives me whiplash when he squeezes my hand gently and pulls his lip up on one side. Regardless of how much time it is, or what gets said, or what he thinks I’ll say when we get there, we have a date. No, not a date. A meeting. It’s just a meeting, we’ll talk, catch up, trade war stories like other soldiers. We’ll see where he is and where I am. And it’s a fucking date, and I can’t help the surge of excitement.

I walk away, back to Farley who’s critiquing dancers on the floor with another Red General. I’m too caught up in how quickly my word choice crushed Cal to remember her name. One hand, he still likes me, obviously. On the other, he didn’t exactly strike me as emotionally stable. Then again, I almost broke down before dinner just from seeing him, so who am I to talk?

“Oh, you’re still here. Lovely, let’s leave,” Farley muses, flashing teeth.

“Leave? There’s still wine isn’t there?” I smirk as I snag another glass. 

I don’t see Cal reenter the ballroom nor can I stop looking for him. I don’t even finish the glass. I hold it just to make Farley wait, which she does with expressive sighs and head rolls. Clara kept her up the night before, too excited about visiting grandma to sleep. But if I wasn’t a pain in Farley’s side, would she still think of me as a sister?

Wriggling out of ballgowns, even those so delicately tailored to my requests, is still a relief second only to a hot bath. Farley’s tub is not luxurious. It barely holds enough water to consider it a soak and my knees stick out if I want my shoulders in, but still, I fill it with water, bubbles and –for good measure– I drop Clara’s mersive and her battleship from eye height just to see them splash.

Between evasive maneuvers and using a bubble-cloud as a fog-storm, my mind veers off of elementary battle tactics and towards the more dangerous realm of silver princes. Ex-princes. Generals. Men.

Cal got upset so quickly I wonder if he expected to sweep me off the dance floor and back into his life. I very nearly left with him. I could have let him carry me out the door and to where ever he has a bed if only for a few more minutes of his warmth. But that was always our problem, too much chemistry and not enough math. We never added things up, not until the very end, and then we were both surprised when we couldn’t quite make it work. Bad analogy, I was never that great with math. 

More like we’re two pieces so closely shaped that if you squinted, we fit together perfectly. But eyes wide open, at least when we last parted, there were gaps. We didn’t fit. I couldn’t keep squinting and neither could he.

Maybe I’ve managed to fill-in the right parts of me, and maybe he’s made himself into a new shape, too. That’s what I hoped time would give us. Walking away last night, seeking a clearer head, I don’t think I could have done that before. Surging with pride, I sink the mersive to strike the battleship from below.

“Don’t sleep all day,” Farley tosses something at me, it lands with a thud. She’s out the door before I can roll over.

Bundled together with a rubber-band are brochures, pamphlets, and adds from a newspaper all about jobs. Red retraining programs touting the achievement of a true education and a trade all in one. The Guard’s military brochure is a three page tri-fold with the benefits listed in bold, red letters on a white background. The Montfort pamphlets are similar but green and lack a navy. More describe the training to join the tech sectors in the old tech towns. I let them fall on the floor and flop back over. 

It’s not that I don’t want a job, or that I don’t have one. I just don’t have one that pays money with any regularity. I can smell my mom’s complaining on the bold gesture. When we first got to our small town west of Ascendant, I helped Gisa set up her shop, read documents, kept the ledgers, took down orders. But Gisa learned to read and write and then there was little for me around the shop. Besides, my mom deserved the easy job of helping my sister. I haven’t held a steady job since. I’m unreliable. I’m flighty. I’m sensitive to sounds, fast movement, aggressive tones. At least Farley had the sense to offer me service positions, when I tell mom where I got the brochures, she’s gonna let Farley have it.

With a small pinch of joy, I fall back asleep imagining Farley’s face as my mother lectures her on getting me out of trouble and not into it.

The sun is high and the light is beautiful through the translucent drapes over the windows. They alternate purple and blue and cream creating shadows and casting color on the plain walls. I haven’t woken so rested in a long time, at least a month. My stomach growls.

I am hungry.

The sun is up, high in the sky.

Flying from the couch to the kitchen I squint through sleepy eyes at the clock and panic. There’s no time. I yank on pants, a mostly clean shirt and stuff my feet into boots. I squirt some tooth paste into my mouth and rinse with water. I am leaving five minutes later than I should. I run and it feels so good to be heading somewhere, to have the adrenaline, to chase that high all the way up the hill and down the other.

At the bottom of the hill, work crews struggle. Water pulses out of the storm drain onto the street. On the edges, it freezes into ice and builds up in layers as the waves come faster than the nymph can redirect. The silver isn’t very powerful and can do little more than redirect the water. The entire street is blocked.

I race up the hill to the road at the top and rush down half a block to the alley and then back down the hill. The detour forces me to loop around the building that holds the cafe. The clock on the bank across the street says it’s almost noon. I am nearly thirty minutes late, fifteen if he didn’t leave the council until eleven-thirty.

Through the door, I pause to watch. I want to see him without him knowing that I’m watching. I want to read him, how he is without me. How he is when he’s on his own and not a general or a lord of a high house. He looks stoically at the server behind the counter. His coat floats up as his arm pushes into it and pulls it on, preparing to leave. When the server looks away, he glances back at the table in the corner. Cal turns back, eyebrows drawn together, mouth looking pained. A few coins come out of his hand and fall in the tip jar. A bag is pushed across to him, his lunch to-go. I time it so that I walk through just as he turns to head out so I can clearly see his face.

He is appropriately disconcerted that his path is blocked, then his entire face lightens as he flushes. Blood rushes his cheekbones, he blushes into a pallor and a coy smile. Cal’s caught not knowing what to say, lips moving, tongue still. His eyes are so soft and kind and then concerned.

“Thought you might have gotten lost,” he lies.

“Nope. Just late.” I step forward. 

For every two steps, he backs up one, leading me towards the table in the corner. He slips his jacket off and sets it on the chair, his back to the wall. I peel off my coat and drape it over the chair.

“I’ll just order, be right back.”

I order a sandwich, a cup of coffee, and an apple. Cal isn’t fast enough to look away when I glance over, but the fact that he tries confirms where his eyes were wondering. It’s nice to know he still appreciates me in that way. I hope we’re ready to consider something a little more. As weak as I am when it comes to him, I try to swear my self to a resolution: slow, steady, and not just for the sizzle.

“I over slept.”

“Ah, the troubles of the victors.” He teases, I think. 

I don’t laugh, stuffing my mouth with a bite of food instead. 

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Not if you’re going to talk with your mouth full.” 

The disgust on his face is real. That makes me laugh for real. I cover my mouth with my hand, somewhere between me and Mareena in my manners. He unwraps his sandwich.

“So?” I ask.

“So… how’s your family? Do they like Montfort?”

If he’s asked Farley then he should know, but it’s an easy enough topic to break the ice. He keeps me talking. He asks about everyone: mom, dad, Gisa, Bree, Tramie –no one is left out.

“And finally, Kilorn. What’s that fucker up to?”

There is no other way I would want someone to refer to Kilorn. For all he is, he is at his very heart a pain in the ass. An amazing, wonderfully loyal and insufferable friend. He has managed to endear himself not just to me and my family but to Farley, and Cameron, and even, apparently to Cal. 

“Couldn’t keep him away from the water. He’s in the Nortan Navy. We get letters sometimes, mostly he’s bored. Sometimes he’s in trouble. But he’s always got a good group of people around him.”

“What ship?”

“The Cardinal.”

“I’ll keep tabs.” He holds my gaze and I know that even now, Cal will help keep Kilorn safe in what ever way he can, for me.

“Thanks.” I catch myself dry mouthed and tired lips. My coffee is cooling and my sandwich is only missing a few bites while his is all gone. I’ve talked so long. “What about you?”

“Well, you know. I’ve got fewer to look after, I guess it makes things dull.” He pushes quickly past the pain but I see it all the same. “I just keep my soldiers fit, ready, mind our posts.”

“You haven’t picked up a hobby?”

“I have, actually. I am becoming an expert at budgeting.” He smiles broadly, proud and cheerful in acknowledging his new position. 

“Damn, did you have to cut back on the armor?” His eyes flick past me, again.

He’s been looking over my shoulder, at the door every few minutes. I turn and look. The door swings shut and a patron greets another at a table. 

“You waiting for someone else?” I ask, turning back.

“No. I am here completely for you.” His eyes flick again and I hear the door shut again.

“Why you watching the door?”

“Nothing. Just a habit.” 

He crushes the paper from his sandwich between his fists. I can still read him well and there’s shame in his posture. I glance behind me again, the suspicion that I’m sitting square in a trap flashes through me and the lightning comes to my fingertips.

“Easy, Mare.”

“You’re making me nervous. Why are you watching the door?”

“I’m… checking for assassins,” he barely mumbles. When the door opens again, I watch him fight his insticts then finally give in with a glance over my shoulder.

“Assassins? You’re not the King, Cal.”

“Yeah, well, some people forget. And the last time, I almost didn’t make it.”

Silence. Stillness. Processing is slow when someone you love is uncomfortable and embarrassed and admitting their weaknesses when they want you to think they’re strong. It made Kilorn shake under our house in the Stilts, and Maven dare me from his bathtub, and Cameron open up to me as we circled the Piedmont base. I want him to tell me more, trust me with what he finds shameful. So I wait and let him come to his words.

“The girl, the one the papers got a photo of me–”

“Kissing?”

“Yeah. She got me alone, um… and then she stabbed me.” Something about how his hands drop into his lap is defensive not casual, an indication of where. I wince with him. “I almost bled to death.”

“Who found you?” The idea that he had a couple suitors never crossed my mind before. But who else would come to find him in his bedroom?

“I didn’t let her get away without injury and she didn’t make it very far before the alarm was raised. Thank my colors, I had my bracelets on.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” I sip my coffee and avoid looking directly at him. He’s ghostly pale he’s blushing from his collarbones to the tips of his ears. Some levity seems to be needed, I reach out and touch his hand. He looks up, shocked I’d touch him. “Most importantly, did they take care of that… um… curve?”

“Shut up. It is not curved.” he retracts, losing his breath in laughs.

“Well, I mean maybe not now. I wouldn’t blame you for taking advantage of the situation. I mean, making some improvements.”

“Surprised you didn’t say bigger.”

“Oh, honey, it’s not about the size. It’s how you use it.”

“And how was I at using it?” his knee brushes mine under the table and his lip pulls up goofy and flirting.

“You got better,” I begrudgingly admit after some contemplation.

“I’d happily remind you by how much.”

“I might just…” I stop myself. His lips slam shut. He straightens and clears his throat. I can’t finish what I’m saying.

“Sorry.” He looks at his watch and then back at the door. It’s time for him to return to sessions, discussions, strategies. “Time is up.”

“This was nice,” I admit. My hand is still on his on the table.

Warm fingers slide over mine until he’s gently massaging my palm. “I liked it.”

“Enough to say the past is forgiven?” I ask.

“You never needed forgiveness from me.”

“Didn’t I?” I hold his eyes steady, not letting him look away. For the first time since we sat down, I’m being completely serious. I need to know what might follow us forward.

“What for?” He asks.

“Just one question, one honest question. If you could go back and do it all over again, if you could just flip me that coin and walk away? And I never fall into that arena, would you go back?” I can’t bring myself to use the words, but I need to know if he will live his life regretting meeting me because, in the end, and actually at the beginning, I took his brother.

Cal pulls back, leans against the chair. “Julian says it’s the curse on the survivors to spend our time trying to remake our regrets.” 

It’s a non-answer that might as well be a yes. I start to stand, tears prickling. Laughing with him, hearing him sigh, and joke reminds me of too many things I want to keep. But I don’t want to be a reminder of all that he lost. Why he lost everything.

“Mare, I have a lot of regrets. But you’re not one of them. Elara would have ruined him no matter the path. Maybe I could have had a few more years, or a few months, but she would have taken him in the end. Jon only knows, but I tend to think this might have been the best I could have hoped for, at least the way it happened, I didn’t go through it alone.”

“So, where does that leave us?”

He stands and pulls on his jacket. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “How about same time tomorrow?”

And the next day and the next. We have one week of sessions and meetings before he’s back on a plane to Norta. And it’s exactly the slow pace I need, that we need, to see exactly where we’ve grown and what we’ve left behind. Maybe at the end, we’ll find that we finally fit. Or maybe it answers the question differently, with less pain, fewer choices to rehash that never asking in the first place.

Reblogs appreciated.

[write-havoc]

This Is How I Disappear Ch. 13

Summary: A girl named Chuck finds herself in the exact place she doesn't want to be, living with violent men in a desolate nursing home. After her former gym teacher finds her, will he be the savior she was looking for?

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Completed (story continues in The Flame Is Gone, The Fire Remains)

Contains: swearing, violence, sexual assault, blood, smut

Readers 18+ of age only

Masterlists in my bio

After a few hours, and with Negan still unconscious, Simon leaves to get some sleep. Chuck can see that Carson is exhausted, as well.

“Why don’t you take the bed?” she says to Carson as she gets up.

“You should still be resting, Charlotte.”

“I’m fine. I want to sit beside him, anyways.” She moves slowly to the other side of Negan’s bed as Carson lays down in the now vacant one. Chuck pulls a chair up to Negan’s right and sits down in it, laying her head over his chest and staring at his face. She listens to his heart and feels his chest rise and fall with each breath. Her eyelids grow heavy, but she tries to fight it. Carson is snoring in the other bed already, so Chuck wants to stay awake in case something happens. It’s a losing battle, though, and soon enough, sleep overcomes her.

Some time later, Chuck is awoken by the sensation of someone softly playing with her hair. She opens her eyes to see Negan staring back at her.

“Negan,” she whispers excitedly as she moves closer to his face. She gives a quick look to the monitor before she shines her penlight in his eyes, rechecking his pupils.

“Fuck, sweetheart. That’s bright as shit,” Negan croaks out quietly and winces.

When she’s confident that Negan is okay, she moves back to his face. She can’t hold back her emotions any longer and she grabs his face, peppering it with kisses as tears stream down her cheeks.

“It’s okay, baby girl,” he coos as he brings his hands to her cheeks.

“I can’t lose you Negan. You’re all I have. I don’t know what I would do without you. You can’t leave me.” She continues to caress his face and hair as her tears flow.

“I’m not going any-fuckin’-where, sweetheart.” He sweeps the tears from her cheeks.

“You’re my best friend, Negan. I love you.” She brings her body down on top of his and hugs him. “I know you don’t like to get really close to people, but I know we’re friends. Even if you won’t admit it. And I don’t think I could go on without you.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not going down that easily.” He rubs her back softly as they stay in a hug for a few moments.

Sunlight starts to seep in through the window signifying that morning has come.

“Fuck.”

“What?” Chuck moves to sit up on Negan’s bed, wiping her cheeks of the last of her tears.

“Give me a radio.”

Negan’s louder voice causes Carson to wake up. He turns back to Negan and gets out of the bed. “Negan. You’re awake-“

“I’m fine, doc. Chuck checked me out.” He grasps the radio from Chuck’s outstretched hand and calls out to Carson, “Infirmary is closed while I’m in here. Which hopefully won’t be much longer.” He brings the radio up to his mouth, but thinks better of it. He hands the radio back to Chuck. “Get Simon in here. Don’t mention me over the line.”

Chuck lifts the radio to her mouth and presses the button. “Simon. Could you please come to the infirmary, please.” She tries to sound casual, but fails miserably causing Negan to let out a chuckle.

“On my way,” Simon’s voice comes through the speaker.

Carson clears his throat. “You can’t just walk out of here, sir. You have to stay off your leg. Not only could you reopen your wound, but you also have an injury to your knee. You won’t be able to put any weight on your leg for several days and then you’ll probably need crutches for a while after that, depending on how the swelling in your knee goes down.”

“Motherfucker!” Negan growls out.

Simon makes his appearance and walks through the door a little out of breath.

“Fuck, man. You about made me shit my pants,” Simon says with a relieved expression on his face as he looks at a conscious Negan.

“Get that fucker that got the freight elevator working and get him to do it again. But tell him we’re getting some new fuckin’ furniture on the top floor or some shit,” Negan orders Simon. “You guys are gonna wheel my ass out of here in this bed. And please tell me you did what I planned,” he directs at Simon.

“Yeah, boss. People will think you’re on a run with TJ’s group. I sent him and the guys to Rolling Acres, so no one here will see them. I already put it in the logs that you guys were going out further than normal on your run. That’ll give you a few days before people here will really notice your absence. And I briefed the rest of the guys that were there. They won’t say a word about what happened to anyone.”

“I’m confused,” Chuck pipes up. “Why are you lying about this?”

“I don’t get hurt, sweetheart. No one here can fuckin’ see me like this. It betrays the whole image,” Negan explains and Chuck nods in understanding.

She knows that part of what keeps this place going is the fact that everyone puts their faith in Negan and his ability to lead. It does make sense that any major injury, like this one, could cause people to lose some of that faith.

It takes a while, but they get the elevator working. Simon and a few saviors in the loop clear all the hallways of people, saying they are transporting a prisoner, before they pass through with Negan’s hospital bed, making sure no one sees their journey to the elevator. They get Negan into the elevator and up to his room with no problems. The men carefully transfer Negan to his own bed and take the hospital bed back to the infirmary.

After Negan gets settled, he turns to Chuck. “You’re going to be my live in nurse. You can tend to whatever the fuck I need whenever the fuck I need it. I don’t want the doc fuckin’ coming in and out of here at all. It’ll raise suspicion.”

“Won’t people notice that she’s gone?” Simon asks as he gestures to Chuck.

Negan thinks a moment. “How do you feel about marriage, sweetheart?” Negan gives her a smirk.

“Uh...” Chuck isn’t exactly enjoying being put on the spot like this. She especially isn’t enjoying the three sets of eyes intently looking at her. “Is that- uh. Do I have to?” She looks to Negan, whose face seems to fall slightly.

“No. You don’t fuckin’ have to,” he responds. “But it’s an easy fuckin’ explanation for why you’d move up here.”

“Well,” Chuck starts. “I’m sure no one will notice I’m not around, anyway. Without having to make an explanation. It’s not like I really have any friends outside of the fifth floor. I’m pretty sure Dr. Carson is the only one downstairs that knows my name.”

Negan shrugs, seemingly accepting Chuck’s answer.

“I’d like to check you out myself, sir,” Carson interjects.

“I trust Chuck’s fuckin’ abilities.”

“I can call down to you if I need anything,” Chuck says to the doctor. “We could use a dedicated channel so no one hears. Or I could use a code name or something.”

“That sounds fuckin’ good. Simon, you’re gonna be ‘in charge’ for the next few days since I’m ‘off site’.” Negan uses airquotes to make sure his point is known. “We’ll figure out what to do after that. Maybe I can just make some fuckin’ appearances and shit. That might be enough to keep fuckers from running their mouths.”

“You can still bark orders over the radio,” Simon adds. “All the saviors would hear it and know you were here. And not dead.”

“Yeah. I still want to show my handsome as fuck mug around the place, though.” Negan pauses to gather his thoughts, then turns to Simon. “Go down with Chuck and help bring her shit up here. The doc can stay with me until you fuckin’ get back.”

Chuck and Simon obey the orders and make their way down to her room.

Simon opens the door and they enter Chuck’s room. “You’re making a habit of having to live with Negan, aren’t you,” Simon jokes, but his smile looks disingenuous.

“I suppose. Only this time, I’m gonna take care of him. And that’s probably gonna be more painful for me than getting stabbed was.” Chuck chortles and starts to put all the items and clothing she thinks she’ll need into her bags.

“Knowing Negan, you’re probably right.” They both chuckle.

“I know Negan probably doesn’t tell you this as much as he should -or at all probably- but he’s really lucky to have you, Simon,” she says genuinely. “You do so much for him. And for this place.”

“Yeah,” Simon responds a bit bashfully. “I promised...” he sighed. “I promised Lucille I’d be there for him and I’ve never broken that promise.”

“Oh? You were friends with her?”

“Yeah. The three of us were close for a lot of years.”

“Oh. If you want to talk about her with me, you can.”

Simon gives her a confused look.

“I’m not trying to be nosy, or anything. It’s just that, I know Negan probably wouldn’t let you talk about her. And he definitely doesn’t talk about her...”

“Why would I need to talk about her?” Simon asks with a confused look on his face.

“Because she was your friend. And you lost her, too. I’m sure that was painful for you. And keeping that pain bottled up isn’t healthy. Trust me, I know.”

He gives Chuck a look that she can’t read. “Maybe someday I‘ll tell you about her.” He shrugs and shifts his weight. Chuck can see that he is uncomfortable, so she doesn’t press any further.

“I think I’m about done.” She throws her diary, iPhone, and speaker into her bag and zips it up. “I don’t know why Negan told you to come down here. I think I can manage this by myself.” She holds her bag in one hand and her guitar in the other.

Simon laughs and grabs the bag from her, heading out the door with Chuck close behind. The pair quickly reenter Negan’s room.

“Thanks, Simon.” Chuck takes her bag and sets it on the couch along with her guitar.

“No problem, angel.” Simon looks to Negan, then moves closer to his bedside.

Carson begins to go over Negan’s medicines and aftercare with Chuck. She writes down the dosing schedule and asks him any lingering questions she has as Negan and Simon go over more details of what will happen with Negan being laid up. With all of that sorted, Carson and Simon exit the room, leaving Chuck and Negan by themselves.

“Fuck,” Negan breathes out and rubs his hands down his face.

“Do you need something?” Chuck moves to stand beside Negan’s bed.

“No.” He lets out a sigh. “This shit shouldn’t’ve fuckin’ happened. I’m a fuckin’ dumbass. I should’ve noticed the damn floor was rotted to shit.”

“How it happened doesn’t matter now. We just need to get you healthy. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah...” He pauses and shifts in the bed. “Will you take these fuckin’ pants off me? They’re uncomfortable as fuck.”

With all the commotion of the night and moving him all day, no one had thought to take the ruined garment off of him.

“Yeah. I’m just going to cut them the rest of the way off. I don’t think they can be salvaged, anyway.” She takes his belts off and cuts through the waistband of the pants from the cut already on his right pant leg. Then she gingerly pulls them off his other leg, making sure not to jostle him.

He sits up a little to take off his shirt. “Might as well get rid of those fuckin’ boxers, too. If I’m gonna be on my ass for a while, I’m gonna be fuckin’ comfortable.”

“Uh... okay,” she says with some nervousness.

“What? It’s not like you haven’t fuckin’ seen my dick before.”

“God, Negan.” She lets out a shy laugh.

“Shit, Chuck. My dick has been fully inside you. I think the time to be fuckin’ shy is long gone.” He chuckles. “Besides, I used to always sleep buck ass naked before you came along. I fuckin’ hate sleeping in my boxers.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you tell me that before?” She never wanted him to be uncomfortable because of her. She tentatively starts to remove his underwear, being extra careful with his right leg.

“You would’ve let me sleep with you naked before we started fucking?”

“No. I guess I wouldn’t have. That would’ve been weird.” She covers him back up with his sheet. “You know, I think I’m gonna need some help with you. I can’t carry you to the bathroom by myself.”

“Doc gave me a jug to piss in.”

“Well, you’re still going to have to go to the bathroom every once in a while. I’m not doing bedpans.”

“You’ll figure something out. You are smart as fuck, remember.” He gives her a smirk.

“Yeah, sure,” Chuck mutters and lets out a yawn.

“Come here.” Negan opens his sheet and pats the bed to his left. “You look tired as fuck. And the doc told me you donated some blood and that you really should be fuckin’ resting. So get in here and take a nap.”

“I’m fine. And I really should stay awake-“

“Nope. Get naked and lay your fine ass down next to me.”

She does feel pretty tired, so she moves to the top of the bed. “I’m not taking my clothes off.” She kicks her shoes off and lays down on the bed.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Jeez, Negan. Even now you have a one track mind.” She cuddles up to his left side and lets out another yawn. “You should get some sleep, too.” She closes her eyes and almost immediately drifts off to sleep.

 “Sweetheart,” Negan says softly.

Chuck fully wakes up and looks to Negan. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I would’ve let you sleep more but I’m getting hungry as fuck and I have to take a piss.”

“I’m sorry.” She scrambles to get off of him and hands him his “piss jug”. “You don’t need any help with that, right?”

He smirks at her and opens his mouth to say something.

“Never mind.” She cuts him off. “I know you don’t need help, so just hold on to whatever vulgar thing you were about to say.” She giggles as she moves to go to the kitchen. “I’ll get you one of those meal shake things. Dr. Carson doesn’t want you eating anything heavy yet.”

 The next couple of days are taxing for Chuck, but she knows she has to keep it together for Negan. She is constantly running around, getting him water and food, bringing him paperwork to look over, keeping track of his medicines, and just making sure he’s comfortable. It’s exhausting.

She asks Negan if the wives can help her, but he refuses. He is very adamant that no one sees him in the state he’s in. He allows Chuck to fill the wives in on that fact that he is there and injured, but tells her not to let them in to see him. They still want to help out, so they provide Negan and Chuck with food. The wives prepare the meals and Chuck brings them back to Negan.

Even though Negan insists that Chuck cuddles up to him during their down time, she tries to give him his space. She feels like if she is in the bed with him, he wouldn’t really rest. She grabs a pillow and blanket and gets cozy on the couch with a book or her diary to try to force him to take it easy on his own. He tries to fight her on it, but he always gives in and takes a nap after he has his medicine.

Chuck even figures out a way to get Negan to the bathroom. He puts his arms around her shoulders in a modified piggyback ride. She gently props his injured right leg up, while Negan puts his good leg on the ground to take some of his weight off of Chuck’s back when it becomes too much for her.

 One night, Chuck comes back from clearing their dinner dishes and notices Negan’s less than stellar body odor. “You’re starting to smell pretty bad.”

“Thanks a lot, sweetheart,” Negan responds sarcastically.

“Well... You haven’t showered in a while. You can’t get your wound wet, so I think I’ll get you in the tub and you can just sponge bathe yourself while I get some clean sheets on this bed. Because they are getting ripe, too.”

“Shouldn’t my personal live in fuckin’ nurse be the one to give me a sponge bath?” he jokes.

She gives him an incredulous look as a response.

“You know, I took time out of my busy fuckin’ schedule to clean you up when you were fuckin’ laid up.” He raises his eyebrows at her, trying to guilt her into bathing him.

“Yeah. But I couldn’t lift my arm, though. You can. And I wasn’t completely naked the whole time, either,” she responds. “If you need help cleaning your feet, or something, then I’ll help. But I think you can manage the rest of you.”

She moves beside the bed and helps him get on her back, all the while listening to his over dramatic huffs of disapproval. She drags him close to the tub. “Okay, I’ll hold you up while you get your good leg in there.” It’s a bit awkward, but she gets him in the tub and gathers all the supplies he would need to get clean. She leaves to change out the bed linens then reenters the bathroom to check on Negan several minutes later.

“You all done?” she asks.

“No. I didn’t wash my fuckin’ hair, yet. This is awkward as fuck, you know,” he grumbles as he struggles with the bucket of water.

“Alright, alright. I’ll help.” Chuck helps him lean back and takes the bucket to wet his hair. She squeezes his shampoo into her hands and begins to work it through his locks, massaging his scalp.

“Fuck, that feels good.” Negan breathes out.

She continues to work her fingers through his greasy hair avoiding the small wound on his scalp, only pausing when he lets out a grunt. She thinks that she may have hurt him, but one glance down tells her that’s not the case.

“Stop it, Negan.” She tries to stifle a giggle as she notices that Negan is starting to get hard. “I can see that you’re getting excited, so just stop it.”

“What? That shit you’re doing feels great. I can’t fuckin’ help it.” He lets out a small moan.

“Ok. I’m rinsing now!” she calls out quickly before he can get any more aroused.

He lets out a groan of frustration when her fingers leave his scalp and she rinses the suds from his hair.

“There’s nothing you would be able to do with that thing anyway. You could open your stitches if you get too, uh... vigorous.” She can feel her cheeks redden. No matter how comfortable she is with Negan, she would still blush when it came to talking about sex.

“Shit, baby. I think you could be gentle.”

“Me?!” she squeaks out in surprise. She had never given Negan a handjob and is nervous at the thought that she might not do it as well as any of his wives. Or any of the plethora of other women that she’s sure had their hands on him. “You need to think about baseball or something because that’s not gonna happen any time soon.” She tosses a towel into his lap and begins to dry his hair with another one.

With Negan mostly dry, Chuck gets him back into the bed. She grabs a book for him to read while she takes her own shower before bed.

 ——— Negan’s POV ———

I watch Chuck grab her clothes and go into the bathroom to take a shower. It would’ve been fuckin’ nice of her to leave the door open, give me a bit of a fuckin’ show, but she didn’t. I pick up the book that Chuck threw down on the bed and laugh out loud as I read the title.

“The Soul of the Fearless Wave?” I say to myself. One look at the cover and I can tell it’s a fucking harlequin romance novel. She did that shit on purpose. Very funny, Chuck. I flip through it to see if I can find a fucking sex scene, but I get interrupted by a knock on the door.

“It’s Simon,” he says from the other side of the door.

“Get in here.”

Simon comes in and stands by my bed. “How ya feeling, brother?”

“Sore as fuck. But not fuckin’ dead, so that’s a plus.”

“Where’s Chuck?”

“Taking a shower.”

His eyes go to the bathroom, then to the pillow and blanket on the couch. I know what he’s fuckin’ thinking. He’s thinking about her sleeping on the fucking couch while she is taking care of me. Instead of sleeping with me. And I can see the fuckin’ relief on his face.

He always knew she slept up here, but I never once said that she sleeps in my fuckin’ bed. Or that I’ve fucked her. And I’m not gonna fuckin’ correct him on his assumption, either. I do not want to get into that shit with him right now. And it most certainly would be a fuckin’ mountain of shit because he’s in fucking love with her.

I always fuckin’ suspected it, but now I’m goddamn fuckin’ sure of it. All because he slipped up and called her “angel” the other day. It was the first fuckin’ time I heard him say it to her. And I know what that fuckin’ word means to him. He used to call her that. The only other woman I’ve heard him call that.

Simon looks back to me and starts. “So, TJ and his guys came back from Rolling Acres and we have an alibi set up for you.  We’re going to tell all the saviors that you need to stay at Rolling Acres to start to get it up and running. They shouldn’t question why you’d need to be there since it’s the newest outpost and we haven’t really done much with it yet. The few guys that are already at the RA outpost are loyal, you know that. They’d do whatever you ask of them, no questions asked. So we spun a story to them that you have some super secret project and they need to cover for you. Say that you’ve been staying there and shit. That way, you can run shit here over the radio and pretend you’re there, since it’s in radio range from here. It’s all plausible and no one should question your absence for the week or so you’ll be down.”

“That sounds fuckin’ good.”

The bathroom door starts to open and out comes my girl, smelling sweet as all fuck.

———   ———

 Chuck finishes her shower, dries off, and gets dressed in a tank top and sleep shorts. After running a comb through her damp hair, she comes back out to the bedroom. Unaware of Simon’s presence, she lets out a little yip when she sees him standing beside the bed.

“Oh! Hey, Simon.” The shock of seeing him at that moment makes her tone sound overly excited. She is suddenly very aware of the fact that she’s not exactly dressed.

“Hey, kiddo.” Simon shifts his weight and scratches his head.

“Do you need me to, uh, leave? I don’t want to interrupt official business, or anything.” Chuck crosses her arms over her chest and flits her gaze between the two men.

“Uh, no. I was just leaving.” Simon turns to leave the room. “Goodnight, uh, Chuck.” He looks back to her, then nods at Negan. “Negan.” He leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

Chuck stands in the middle of the floor for a few moments before she moves closer to the bed, Negan following her with his eyes the whole time.

“Did you like the book?” She giggles and waits for Negan’s response.

“I couldn’t fuckin’ put it down. I’d be halfway through it if Simon hadn’t’ve shown up.”

“Shut up.” She laughs. “That book is horrible. It uses the phrase ‘throbbing member’ like a million times.”

Negan smiles wide at her. “Chuck, are you a dirty girl? Reading smutty shit? Did you flick your bean to this?”

“Please.” She looks unimpressed. “That is the least sexy thing I’ve ever read. And I routinely read medical textbooks about infections.” She chortles. “Trust me, that book did not make my ‘nethers quiver’, which is another overused phrase, by the way.” She starts to turn off the lights in the room as they both laugh.

“Why the fuck did you read it then?”

“I got bored out of my mind when I lived up here the first time, so I read a bunch of stuff when you weren’t here.” She gets into bed beside Negan. “But I think the more important question is, why did you have that book in your collection?”

“This shit was in my collection? Shit. I guess I should go through it more closely. I can’t be fuckin’ seen with this shit. It’s embarrassing.” He tosses the book out of the bed as Chuck turns her bedside light off, leaving only the moonlight through the windows to slightly brighten the room. The pair move around a bit, trying to get comfortable.

“So... since when does Simon call you ‘angel’?” Negan asks casually as he pulls Chuck into his side.

“Hmm. I don’t know. I think he always did. He calls me that or kiddo.”

“Hmm...”

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” He pauses. “Who called you ‘Chuck’ first? It seems kinda weird to call a fuckin’ girl that.”

“Actually, there’s a whole story behind it.” She shifts so she can see his face more easily. “And my mom loved telling it so I’ve heard it a million times. When my mom was pregnant with me, she wanted me to be a boy. She only wanted a boy and she was 100 percent sure that I was gonna be one. She had the name Charles picked out pretty much from the second she thought she was pregnant, too. Had her heart set on having a ‘baby Charlie’. So when my parents found out I was a girl, ‘Charles’ became ‘Charlotte’. When I was born, my dad kept calling me ‘Chuck’ as a joke, and it just kinda stuck. They never really called me anything but ‘Chuck’. Unless I was in trouble. If I heard a ‘Charlotte’ from my mom, then I knew I messed up.” She giggles. “But my uncle always called me ‘Chucky’.” She smiles at the memory.

Negan chuckles at her. “That is cute. as. fuck.”

Chuck giggles. “I guess. What about you? I don’t even know your first name. Why do you only go by ‘Negan’? I saw your first initial on paperwork in high school once, so I know your name starts with an ‘A’.”

His smile drops and he lets out a heavy breath. “My story isn’t fucking cute.”

“Oh?” She can tell that he doesn’t want to talk about it, but she wants to keep the conversation open. She wants him to know that he can talk about anything with her, without trying to push him into it.

“My name... My birth name...” He lets out a sigh. “I was named after my piece of shit father. He was a fuckin’ violent drunk. And a truly evil man. Beat the shit outta me and my mom all the fuckin’ time. But she always got it worse. He’d make me watch what he did to her. The shit he did...” He wipes his face with his free hand. “He made me watch him rape her. Almost every damn night. Told me that was how men were supposed to treat women... But I knew better. The way my mom fuckin’ looked when he had his goddamn hands on her told me that wasn’t how it was supposed to fuckin’ be.”

Chuck moves her hand around him and hugs him lightly. “Oh my god... That’s so horrible.”

“Yeah.” He continues. “He went too far one night when I was thirteen and beat the living fuck out of her... and me. When he bolted, I ran three and a half miles with four broken ribs to the nearest neighbor and told them that my father just killed my mom.”

Chuck lets out a gasp and Negan hugs her a little closer.

“My neighbors called the cops and shit.” He takes in a deep breath and exhales. “The cops arrested him and he got sent to prison. As far as I know, he’s still there. I fuckin’ hope they left him in his cell to starve to fuckin’ death and turn into one of those dead pricks.” He rubs Chuck’s arm as she hugs him tighter. “Anyway. I went into fuckin’ foster care after that. And the day I was handed my mom’s ashes was the day I swore I would never utter my father’s fuckin’ name again. So I always went by my fuckin’ middle name, Egan. That was my grandma’s maiden name. And that’s what my mom wanted to name me before my father wanted a fuckin’ Junior.” He lets out a sigh. “My fuckin’ school wouldn’t let me just use my middle name, I guess, so they made me sign papers and shit with my first initial. N. So I wrote N Egan on all my papers and fuckin’ scribbled that fuck’s last name so I wouldn’t have to fuckin’ look at it. Eventually, people just started to call me Negan. When I turned eighteen, I legally changed my name.”

“Jeez.” She thinks about all the information that Negan had just told her. “You were alone that young?” Chuck asks softly. “I’m so sorry, Negan.” Her voice is choked with emotion.

He shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, but Chuck can see the pain he is trying to mask in his face.

“So what’s the ‘A’ stand for, then?” she changes the subject back to his name.

“Well, I wanted to be just ‘Negan’. One fuckin’ name. But they wouldn’t let me do that, so I had to pick something.” He lets out a low laugh. “I made ‘Negan’ my last name and picked ‘Alex’ as a first name. Which was what I called my first dog.

“You picked your dog’s name?”

“Yup.”

“You ‘Indiana Jones-ed it?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess. But I never go by that name. Shit, I don’t think anyone has ever even called me that. At least not more than once. I’m just Negan. Especially fuckin’ now.”

Chuck leans up to place a kiss on Negan’s cheek.

He turns to look at her. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to do it.”

He blinks at her then cups her cheek as he kisses her sweetly. He places his forehead on hers and stays there with his eyes closed, softly rubbing his thumb on her cheek.

“Goodnight, Negan,” she whispers.

“Goodnight, baby.”

 A few more days pass and Negan begins to get restless. Chuck tries her best to keep him comfortable and happy, but it is a struggle.

“Do you want to listen to some music?” she asks as she moves toward Negan’s stereo. “I could put a record on or you can go through the music on my phone. I brought up a speaker for it. I’m sure you’ll like some of the songs I have.” She shrugs and waits for his answer.

“Yeah. Sure,” he grumbles.

Chuck digs the phone out of her bag, unlocks it, and hands it to Negan for him to browse her music collection. She digs through her bag again for the speaker and sets it up on her bedside table. She looks back over to Negan and sees that he has a big smile on his face.

“What are you smiling at? Is my taste in music that bad?” she asks and crawls onto the bed beside him. She goes to look at her screen but he turns it away from her. “What?” She furrows her brow at him.

He smirks and continues to swipe his finger over the screen. “You got any nudies on here?”

“Hey!” She tries to grab her phone but he keeps it out of her reach. “You’re supposed to be looking at music, not my pictures.”

He turns the phone around to show Chuck a picture of her and her mom making a goofy face. “This shit is cute as fuck, sweetheart.”

She giggles and takes the phone from him. She scoots closer to Negan and rests her head on his shoulder as she holds the phone out in front of them.

“My mom always wanted to take selfies with me. I hated doing it because I never look good in pictures, but she insisted.” She flips through some more pictures of her and her mom, as well as pictures of her old apartment and the city she used to live in, all the while explaining to Negan what they are. She gets to a picture of her parents when they were young and pauses.

“That your dad?”

“Yeah. I remember when my mom sent this to me. She found it when she was cleaning the attic and texted it to me. It was right after I graduated college and moved into my apartment in the city.” Chuck laughed sadly at the memory. “She told me that he’d be proud of me.”

“How did he, uh... go?” Negan asks as politely as he can muster.

“Car accident. Drunk driver was going the wrong way on the freeway... I was eight.”

“Shit. I knew he had passed, but I didn’t know it was when you were that fuckin’ young?”

“Yeah.” She swallows thickly. “He was awesome. From what I remember, anyway. He’s the one that taught me how to play chess. Not that I was any good when I was little.” She chuckles at the good memories. “I didn’t even play for a few years after he died. Then my mom and I picked it back up, kinda to honor him.”

“I see where you got that hair from, now.” He picks up a stray lock of her hair and twirls it in his finger.

She laughs. “Yeah. I got his looks, unfortunately.”

“Nah. I think you look like your mom, too. But you definitely got his red fuckin’ hair.”

“It’s strawberry blonde.”

“What the fuck ever you call it, I like it.”

“Really?” Her cheeks blush. She wants to change the subject so Negan won’t see how his compliment affects her. “I’m a lot like my dad. He was the shy one. And the nerdy one. He used to read me Lord of the Rings before bed.” She chuckles. “You can also blame him for my clumsiness.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of them. Negan brings his arm around Chuck and lays his hand on her hip.

“I tried to teach Lucille how to play chess, but she just could not wrap her fuckin’ head around it.” He lets out a sigh. “She liked hearing about our games, though. I’d come home and she’d say, ‘How’d my girl do today?’, and I’d say, ‘She kicked my fuckin’ ass’ or ‘I got her good today’.”

“Really?” Chuck didn’t know that Lucille ever even thought about her.

“Yeah.” He rubs Chuck’s arm. “She was the most graceful fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen. She danced ballet. Got really big into it in college. The first time I saw her on stage, I swear my fuckin’ heart stopped. I asked her out the next day.”

Chuck smiles. “I would’ve liked to have seen her dance. I wish I had known her better.”

“She really liked you. But she got along with every-fuckin’-body. She’d strike up conversations with anyone. She loved people. I never had as much faith in them as she did.”

“She was a good person.”

Negan lets out a laugh as if he remembered something funny. “She had the worst sense of fuckin’ humor ever.” He continues to laugh and Chuck joins in. “She would make these horrible fuckin’ jokes and just crack herself up. I’d end up fuckin’ laughing at how stupid it was.” His laugh drifts off and a look of sadness creeps over his face.

Chuck turns to hug him and the pair stay that way for a while, in the comfort of each other’s arms.

 Several more days pass and Negan starts to walk around. He has a limp and only uses the crutches sparingly, but is getting stronger. One day, Chuck calls down to Carson and tells him that she thinks that Negan’s stitches can come out. Carson concurs and Chuck plans on removing them.

She had already gotten everything ready to take the stitches out when Negan decides that he needs to use the bathroom first. As she waits for Negan to return, she looks out the window.

“It’s looking black over Will’s mum’s,” Chuck says almost to herself.

Negan leaves the bathroom and walks past Chuck to the bed. “What?” Negan groans as he sets himself in the bed. “Did you say something?”

She turns around to come to the side of the bed. “It’s looking dark over Will’s mum’s.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Chuck leans over him to start removing the stitches. “It means that there are storm clouds approaching outside.” She giggles at the face he makes.

“What kinda fuckin’ saying is that?”

“I don’t know. My mom used to always say it. I think it’s an old British saying.” She looks up at his face for a moment. “My mom’s grandparents were from England,” she further explains.

Negan chuckles at her as she finishes removing his stitches.

“It looks like it won’t scar too bad.” She stands up fully beside the bed after she examines his now stitch free thigh.

Negan suddenly throws his arms around her and pulls her into his lap, her legs straddling his thighs.

“Negan!” she yelps. “What are you doing?”

He runs his hands over her hips and up her torso. “Come on. It’s been like two fuckin’ weeks. I’m dying over here.” He rakes his eyes up and down her body. “Since I can’t rip out my stitches because there aren’t anymore fuckin’ stitches to rip, why don’t we have some fucking fun?” He pulls her face toward his and kisses her, quickly building a heat between them.

“Negan.” She pulls back. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“Oh. I’m very up for this.” He wiggles his eyebrows as Chuck tries to hold back a smile. “My dick. I’m talking about my dick. It’s definitely up for this. Up .”

“Yeah. I get it. Real smooth, Negan,” she jokes and takes off her shirt.

“Well, my corny jokes always seem to get you fuckin’ naked.” He smirks and begins to unbutton her jeans as she laughs.

She stands up to take the rest of her clothes off as Negan lays down fully. She climbs onto the bed and straddles him, hovering over him. “I don’t want to hurt you-“

“Don’t fuckin’ worry.” He places his hand on the back of her head and pulls her down for another kiss. “I’m fine.”

She relaxes and puts more of her weight on him, rubbing her hands over his chest and softly grinding her hips into his. She bends down to place hot kisses to his neck and chest as he runs his hands up her back. Her lips meet with his in a passionate kiss, his fingers snaking through her hair as she writhes on top of him.

Chuck sits up on his pelvis and softly scratches her fingers through his chest hair and over his stomach.

“Fuck, baby. Stop teasing me.” Negan runs his hands up her thighs and squeezes them with a groan.

“I’m sorry,” she giggles as she lightly runs her fingers over his hard flesh in front of her and softly strokes him.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groans. “Goddamnit. Let me fuckin’ feel you before I explode.”

She chuckles at how much he’s begging her, but decides not to deny him, or herself, any longer. She guides his cock to her entrance and slowly lowers herself onto him, making sure not to seem too eager. She won’t admit it to him, but she’s probably just as excited as he is to be able to engage in this particular activity with him again.

“Mmm,” she moans as he stretches her gloriously.

“Fuck.” He rubs his hands up and down her torso, grasping her breasts and pinching her nipples as he squeezes them.

“Ouch!” She slaps his hands away. “Not so rough!”

“Sorry, baby. I’m fuckin’ excited! And your tits look goddamn amazing.” He sets his hands on her waist instead.

She begins to move her hips forward and backward, slowly riding him as she runs her hands up his chest to his shoulders. This isn’t a position that they have ever used before, so Chuck is just doing what feels good to her. She hopes that Negan is enjoying it, too.

“Fuck, I have missed this.” He grasps her hips and starts to push and pull them, getting her to speed up her pace.

“It hasn’t been that long,” she teases through heavy breaths. She leans forward, cradling her arms around his head as she continues to move herself up and down on him.

“It’s been too fucking long.” He starts to thrust his hips into hers, quickening their pace.

“Is this good for you?” Chuck asks when her insecurity spikes.

“Fuck yes. You feel so fucking good.” He brings his hand to the back of her head and threads his fingers through her hair.

“Mmm. God, Negan.” She rests her forehead on his and runs her fingers over his jaw. She can’t hold back her moans as Negan turns his head and puts his lips on her neck, placing sloppy kisses all over her skin.

He wraps his arms around her torso and holds her to him tightly as he thrusts deeply into her.

“Goddamnit, baby,” he whispers into her ear. The groans and grunts coming out of his mouth send a wave of arousal straight to her core.

“Don’t stop, Negan,” she mewls. Her thighs start to shake as her walls tighten around him. She pushes herself up and arches her back as her orgasm rolls through her, with a breathy moan leaving her lips. Her fingers curl into fists on his chest and her hips buck sharply out of her control as waves of pleasure crash over her.

Negan lets her ride out her orgasm before he pulls out and releases on her stomach with a loud groan. She collapses on top of him, a heaving, sweaty mess.

“Motherfuck... You didn’t last very long.” His chest rumbles with a laugh beneath her.

“Neither did you,” she returns with a chuckle.

Negan turns them over so he is on top of her. “I’ll clean us up,” he says and starts to get off the bed.

“No. I can do it.” She sits up.

“I should fucking do it. After all the shit I put you through taking care of me.” He kisses her softly on the head and heads toward the bathroom.

“Yeah. You’re right,” she jokes and lays back down.

He comes back out with a hand towel and cleans her off, throwing the towel into his hamper afterward. He slides onto the bed beside her to her right and runs his fingers over her smooth skin from her belly button to between her breasts and up to cradle her neck. She turns to face him, bringing her own hand up to cradle his cheek.

“How did you get this?” she asks as she traces the long scar running from his temple to his cheekbone on the right side of his face. “Did you get it after the turn?”

“No. I’ve had it for years. Since I was young and fuckin’ stupid.”

“I never noticed it before,” she muses. “I bet it was a bar fight, wasn’t it? Someone break a bottle over your head?” she jokes.

“No. It’s fuckin’ stupider than that.”

“Hmm.” She thinks of another explanation. “Motorcycle crash?”

“Nope.”

“Angry husband catch you with his wife and he pulled a knife on you?”

He lets out a booming laugh. “Nope. Seriously. It’s stupid as fuck.”

“Well, tell me.”

He lets out a huff showing his displeasure in telling the story. “My buddies and I got drunk at a college party and I fell through a window.”

“You fell through a window? Like in a fight? Someone pushed you?”

“No. I literally just fell through it on my own. I fuckin’ tripped over my own feet.”

Chuck begins to laugh. “You’re right. That is pretty stupid.” Her expression turns more pensive as she continues to trace the scar.

“What?” he asks when he notices the change.

“Are you going to go on more scavenging runs after you heal up?”

“Probably not. That shit that happened was stupid. I’ll just stick to the fuckin’ pickups.”

“How dangerous are those?”

“You worried about me, sweetheart?” he says with a grin.

“Yes. Of course, I am. I want you to be safe.”

He brings her into a tight hug and kisses the top of her head.

“Don’t worry, baby girl. They’re perfectly safe. And I only make appearances to the communities when I fuckin’ need to. You know, when they fuck up.”

“Can you promise me that you won’t ever get hurt?”

“You know I can’t promise that.” He rubs her back in reassurance. “But this was a one time thing. A fuckin’ dumb mistake that won’t happen again. Okay? Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m always going to worry when you leave.”

“Because you love me so much,” he jokes.

“Don’t tease.” She pulls back and playfully hits his shoulder. “You know what I meant when I said that. You’re like my family.”

“Gross, Chuck. We just fucked, you know? Not exactly family behavior.” He smirks.

“Jeez. It’s not like that.” She rubs her face in embarrassment. “It’s different, I guess. I don’t know. I guess we just have a complicated relationship. I can’t explain it.”

“I can. You’re in love with me,” he teases again as he pushes her back down on the bed and climbs on top of her.

“I am not.” She protests with a huff.

“You love the shit outta me.” He peppers her face with kisses as she begins to giggle.

“Stop!” She laughs. “If I were so in love with you, why would I let you sleep with the wives?”

“Oh, you let me?” He lets out a low chuckle.

“Shut up.” She runs her hands through his hair. “I’m just about as in love with you as you are with me, I’m sure.”

Negan brings his mouth down to hers, kissing her hard. The conversation is all but forgotten as the heat begins to build between the two again.

[phiralovesloki]

Once GTKY thingy

I was tagged by my beloved @optomisticgirl​! I’m not gonna tag people because I’m not feeling well and I don’t know who’s already been tagged, alas.

Under the cut because it’s long.

Musical episode: yea or nay?

Nay. I am really picky about musical episodes. The OUAT one was, by my standards, actually not terrible, but season 6 was already a mess, and trying to make the CS wedding episode also a musical was too much. (Also songs have to move the plot and most of them didn’t do a good enough job of doing that.)

When did you start watching Once, and do you remember why?

I started sometime in early spring 2014; it was on Netflix and 45 minutes long, so I picked it as my gym show to watch while I was on the elliptical. But due to graduate school and disability, I only watched 30 minutes of the pilot and then didn’t go back to the gym for a looong while.

I was super depressed that summer because I hated being engaged (love my husband, love being married to him, hated being engaged and planning a wedding) and I decided to finish watching the pilot. And then I figured, hey, why not see what happens in the next episode. 3 weeks later, I’d watched the whole thing on Netflix and Hulu 3 times. Whoops.

What made watching Once worthwhile?

Reentering fandom was the distraction I needed to pull myself out of my depression. And since then, the friendships I’ve made have had an incredible impact on my life.

First + Current Main Ships?

First was Snowing! Then by the end of season 3, I was all about Captain Swan, what a shock. I also multi-ship, and not like, “Oh, I ship CS and OQ!” I mean like, I ship Killian and Emma (mostly Killian) with so many people I’ve lost track.

First + Current Favorite character?

First and current favorite character is Rumplestiltskin.

Favorite arc (Why?)

Probably the season 1 Snowing arc, actually! I thought it was very well paced and executed, both in Storybrooke and the Enchanted Forest. I loved seeing the parallels, and as much as it broke my heart that they would have gone their separate ways in Storybrooke, it felt fitting given the curse.

Favorite plot twist?

Neal and Baelfire being the same person. My expression was basically Emma’s in that moment, like, “Oh you have GOT to be kidding me.” Not in a bad way exactly, just like, “Oh damn what?” Second to that is the Dark Hook twist.

Hardest death to watch?

Tie between Graham’s death and Hook’s actual death in 5x11. Hook’s death became much harder for me because shortly before 5B began, my beloved parakeet died, and so seeing all of the gifsets of Emma wailing in grief was really, really awful for me and I had to go on a hiatus. But I think had our budgie lived, or died at a different time, Graham’s was harder because Emma was just so shocked by it, and she never got an explanation.

This character should have gotten more time?

MULAN and not in the fucking EF being irrelevant.

How do you summarize the show to your friends? (max. 3 sentences):

Stupid fairytale show that was already very silly but tanked after season 3. Very, very attractive people, though. Have you seen this pirate?

Favorite Once specific trope (think Memory Wipe, Family Trees, Glowing Walkey-Talkey Hearts, Head Achey Timelines…)

Tie between heart magic and TLK.

Three quotes that mean a lot to you?

“There’s not a day will go by I won’t think of you.”

“I’m gonna choose to see the best in you.”

“What’s twenty-eight years when you have eternal love?”

Favorite funny scene?

Mary Margaret and Leroy trying to sell candles in season one.

Favorite Platonic Ship:

Captain Book and Swan Queen *gets immediately shot*

Favorite dish from Granny’s?

Grilled cheese.

What part of the newly merged realms would you like to live in?

Storybrooke. Girl can’t live without internet and plumbing.

Do you have a new fandom you’re addicted to now that OUaT no longer airs?

Nope. I don’t really do fandom constantly, if that makes sense. My previous fandom was the Legend of Zelda, and when I made my exit, I didn’t hop to anything else. Same will happen with OUAT; when I’m done, I’ll be done. But I’m not done :)

[raywritesthings]

Lost in Translation 11/11

My Writing Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor Pairing: Doctor/Donna Summary: In a universe where people are born with the name of the person destined for them displayed on their skin, intergalactic soulmates can be rather difficult to navigate. AO3 link

“I mean, I get Donna not being able to read Circular Gallifreyan, I really do,” Jack was saying as the Doctor kept his eyes on the controls, hoping that by pointedly ignoring the other man he’d simply run out of steam. “But you didn’t think it’d maybe be worth a mention that you had her name?”

He didn’t really have the patience to explain the complicated mess they’d made of things for themselves, and he knew Donna wasn’t much inclined to go into it for the others’ benefit either — but she ought to have said something by now.

The Doctor looked up to find they were short a person, and the back of Donna’s brown jacket was just disappearing down a corridor. Something was very wrong.

He got them safely into the Vortex and charged up the ramp after her. “Donna!”

She’d not made it very far, and so he skidded to a stop. Donna didn’t even really look at him as she leaned against a wall and pressed the heel of her hand to a temple. “Yeah, Spaceman.”

“Everything alright?” He couldn’t help worrying as he watched her. They’d assumed she’d been able to safely absorb the regeneration energy, but what if that had been wrong? “Any kind of pain? Headaches? Memories that aren’t your own?”

“No. Is that what should’ve happened?”

“It’s the theory. Truth is, there’s never actually been a human-Time Lord metacrisis before.”

“Just like there’s never been human-Time Lord soulmates before,” she guessed wryly.

“No.” The Doctor looked down. She wasn’t happy. “Donna, I’m sorry—”

“Oh, don’t start,” she said. “There’s so much going on right now, and if you start—” She stopped herself. Her breath was becoming a bit patchy, how it got when she was desperately trying not to cry.

“What can I do?”

“You can give me a minute. I just need a minute.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Donna looked at him.

“Sorry, was that a minute alone, or do you want to come back with me?”

She let out a shaky sigh. “Of course I’m coming back with you.” When he passed her a handkerchief, she nodded to him once and dabbed at her eyes.

“Donna, if you need more than a minute, that’s okay.”

“No, there’s too much. There are twenty-seven planets out there that we’ve got to put back, and you’re not gonna tell all of them out there to wait for me.” She waved his handkerchief in the direction of the console room before shoving it back into his hands. “I am used to being an afterthought.”

“Donna—”

She was already marching back down the ramp with her head held high, and he had little choice but to follow her.

The others looked up at their entrance. Jack was grinning, probably with another remark on the tip of his tongue.

“Leave it,” the Doctor warned.

The captain sobered rather quickly. “Doctor, Donna, I was just—”

“Never mind, there’s still a lot to do,” Donna dismissed. “We’ve got twenty-seven planets that need moved out of the Medusa Cascade, including ours.”

“We?” Asked Sarah.

“Yes, we. I do let other people fly my ship when the need arises,” the Doctor said with a pointed look. “And this is going to be complicated enough to need all hands on deck. Six of us, that’s a proper number for once.”

“You mean there’s really meant to be a crew?” Asked Martha. She’d been chatting away with Mickey before now. Getting to know each other, reveling in that special moment. He envied that.

“That’s what TARDIS’ were built for. Now, I’m assigning each of you very specific tasks, so pay attention.”

The Doctor soon had each of his remaining friends stationed around the console ready for his signal as he got them back into the Medusa Cascade.

“Alright, we’ll give it a go with Clom first, and if we mess up — well, it’s Clom, no one’ll miss it.”

He’d been hoping that’d pull a smile at least from Donna, but all she did was shake her head. The Doctor actually locked the TARDIS onto the uninhabited No-Longer-Lost Moon of Poosh with a sigh and pointed to Mickey to begin.

The ship was rattling more heavily than usual, but for once none of his companions were complaining. They all were too busy trying out flying for the first time. There were some scattered whoops and cheers, and the mood lifted somewhat. He tried catching Donna’s eye once or twice, and while she seemed happier than before she never held his gaze for very long.

She was right that there was simply too much going on. If he could just have a moment to talk to her, to try and gauge how she was taking the news, he’d feel much better. For once he wanted to be able to tell the whole universe to just stop spinning a minute. Donna had only just saved all of it, after all, weren’t they owed that much?

With each trip they made, they were able to go just a little faster as everyone got accustomed to their roles in piloting the ship. It was still a very long process, though, and by the sixth planet most of their excited grins had faded.

“So, what’s everyone doing after this?” Jack asked four planets later, clearly an attempt to break the somewhat awkward silence that had settled over the group. It garnered a couple chuckles here and there.

“How come it had to be twenty-seven planets?” Mickey wondered aloud as they left Adipose 3 in its rightful place. “Five would’ve been enough.”

“Alright, last but not least, the Earth!” The Doctor announced, and again there were smiles. He’d had a feeling that would be a morale booster. When they finally shuddered to a stop hanging above his friends’ home back in the proper galaxy, everyone stepped back from the controls and clapped. Hugs were exchanged, and his hearts sped up a little when Donna turned to him on his right — only she froze, then reached out and patted him on the arm.

“Not bad, Spaceman.”

“Right.”

She wasn’t meeting his eyes, which was good since he wasn’t sure he could hide the hurt in his own.

He made quick work of landing the TARDIS on Earth now, picking a spot in Central London. Normally he might have felt bad dumping them all off in one go, but he thought they understood the delicate nature of things at the moment.

“Here we are, back home. You’ll be alright Mickey?”

“I’ll make sure he’s settled,” said Martha as she pulled out of a hug with Donna.

“Yeah, you will,” said Jack with a smirk.

“Stay out of it, Cheesecake.”

The Doctor followed the bickering trio down the ramp and to the doors. They all turned back just outside to face him.

“You’ll be alright, Boss?”

“Oh, sure. You know me.”

“That’s an ‘us’ now, remember?” Jack pointed at him. “Just get back in there and sweep her off her feet.”

“Yeah, Donna’s good for you, so try not to mess that up,” Martha advised him.

“Maybe lay off the whole ‘Curse of the Time Lords’ bit,” was Mickey’s suggestion.

“Yes, thank you,” he said with some impatience.

Jack snapped off a salute and gave him a grin. “You’re gonna do great.”

“And let us know how it goes!” Martha added.

“Alright, go on.” He waved them off, then turned and nearly ran into Sarah Jane. “Oh! Sorry.”

“That’s alright. I’m in a bit of a hurry myself. Got to get back to Luke — I’ll have to tell you about that someday,” she said with a smile. “Doctor, if there’s anything we can do—”

“Oh, Sarah, I think that’s part of the problem.” He’d always relied on his friends before, but this was something that should have been between him and Donna alone.

She grimaced, then folded him into a hug. “I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

He wished he could have all their confidence, but when Donna had yet to even smile at him since she’d found out it was hard to maintain a positive outlook. Even setting aside just how wrong it all had gone, there was Mickey’s remark to consider. Curse of the Time Lords was perhaps a touch melodramatic, but there’d been a reason all those years ago he’d decided the idea of having a human soulmate was ridiculous. A reason he’d tried very hard to forget about once Donna had entered his life. Though he supposed if she had no interest in being his soulmate, the question of her lifespan in relation to his hardly mattered, about the dimmest silver lining he’d ever encountered.

“Thank you,” he managed anyway.

Sarah Jane began walking away and gave a last wave over her shoulder which he returned. Then he drew in a breath and reentered the ship.

It felt even quieter inside the TARDIS than usual. Donna was leaning back against the railing, her eyes on the floor. She’d been so brilliant and unstoppable before on the Crucible; why did she seem to believe something had already defeated her now? Had he misread her feelings before? Was the idea of her and him really so terrible?

He came up the ramp slowly. “Donna, please tell me what you’re thinking.”

She shrugged, and there was something so hopeless in the gesture that it tore at his hearts. “I just don’t know what I’m feeling about this.”

“What is ‘this’?” He asked her. “Is it how you found out, or is it that it’s me?”

She looked up at him at last, and she seemed more shocked at his words than anything. “Of course it’s not—”

Her phone began ringing. Again. The Doctor was about a breath away from hurling it into space.

“My folks. They probably want to know what just happened with the Earth moving. This should be short,” she assured him. “I didn’t exactly leave on good terms.”

He wanted to ask about that, but then Donna had the phone to her ear.

“Yeah, Gramps. It’s all fine.” A short pause, and a furtive glance in his direction. “Yes, I got him back.” Another pause, longer this time, and he watched as Donna’s eyes widened. “She does? I’m not sure if — alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Alright, see you.” When she hung up, she was back to massaging her temples. “We have to stop by my mum’s.”

“I thought we were going to talk,” he pointed out.

Donna walked around the console away from him. “We will, but this is my family.”

“Just because it’s your family doesn’t mean they can’t wait.” How was he supposed to put her first if she kept adding things to what they had to do first?

“Well, I already agreed. Anyway, mum and I already had one fight today, and if she’s really planning to apologize it’s best not to keep her waiting.”

She started entering in the coordinates he’d shown her matched up with a spot just across the road from her house and stood aside to let him finish off the set with proper time coordinates.

“What did you fight about?”

Donna kept her eyes on the controls. “You, a bit.”

“Me?”

The tips of her ears were turning red. “It was stupid. Just let me get this over with.”

They landed, and the Doctor quietly followed Donna up the front path and into her mother’s house. They found both Wilfred and Sylvia sitting in the front room.

“Er, hello,” said the Doctor.

Wilf stood. “Good to see you’re alright, sir. Was that you and Donna bringing the Earth back? They’re saying the sky looks right again, with all the right stars and everything.”

“Yes, it’s all fine now.” There was a sudden clap of thunder and the sound of rain. “Well, there might be some basic atmospheric disturbance, but it’ll pass.”

“You’ve stopped glowing, sweetheart,” Donna’s grandfather observed.

“Yeah, that should be fine, too,” he said. Well, he’d yet to have a chance to do an extensive study, but there was no point in worrying her family if Donna was seemingly unharmed.

Donna and her mother had remained silent through all of this, alternately sneaking looks at each other before pointedly turning away.

“Why don’t we leave you two to chat?” Wilf suggested, valiantly persevering in the face of his daughter and granddaughter’s reticence. “Did you want tea, Doctor?”

He didn’t, but he knew the answer he was supposed to give. “That’d be lovely, thanks.”

Wilf took him back through to the kitchen. A final glance back before he shut the door let him glimpse Donna watching him leave, a pinched expression in her features.

Had she wanted him to stay? He couldn’t seem to do anything right by Donna anymore. Who knew that learning the identity of a soulmate could make such a mess of a person?

“You can have a seat, Doctor. I’ll put the kettle on.”

He sat and watched the rain fall past the windows. Soon enough, Wilfred was seated across the table from him and two cups of steaming tea sat between them. It was so quintessentially British of him that he very nearly wanted to laugh.

Instead he asked, “Why were Donna and Sylvia fighting about me?”

“Donna didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head.

“Well, Sylvia found out about all this traveling Donna’s been doing, and I think she was just a bit scared. Who wouldn’t be after those Daleks came through?”

“True.”

“Anyway, she wanted Donna to give you up.”

The Doctor felt like a lead brick had just dropped into his stomach. “What did Donna say?”

“I’d think that was obvious,” said Wilf with a smile. It slowly dimmed when the Doctor didn’t return it. “Everything alright with you two?” He asked eventually.

The Doctor’s normal inclination was to lie or otherwise misdirect, but he supposed the other man would soon find out.

“Donna and I are soulmates.”

Wilf’s cup landed back on the saucer with a clatter. “Are you really?” At the Doctor’s nod, he gave a small whoop of joy. “Well, I did say — congratulations! Soulmates, and you and her from different planets and all. You must be the luckiest people in the universe to have found each other.”

He smiled, but he knew that even to Wilfred it had to look bitter. “Well, I don’t think she’s too happy about it, actually.”

“What?” Wilf seemed astonished at the very idea. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

“She found out the worst possible way, and now she’s got it in her head that I don’t care or I didn’t want her to know. But it’s not that at all! Truth is, Wilf, I’ve felt this way about your granddaughter for far longer than I knew she had my name.” He dragged a hand through his hair with a sigh. “I should’ve told her the minute I realized. There was just so much going on, and I wanted to have the proper time, but it all went wrong.”

He took a long gulp of the tea and sniffed once.

“Maybe she’d rather I wasn’t her soulmate at all.”

“Oh, that can’t be. You’ve no idea how happy she is traveling with you.”

The logical side of him knew Wilf was probably right. After all, hadn’t he only been convinced just the night before that Donna had wanted to kiss him, that she felt the same way he did? But all that had been when he’d thought they were just two people who had happened to develop those feelings for each other, not a pair of soulmates that had taken almost two years to get their act together. No wonder Donna was so disappointed in him.

“Soulmates have always meant a lot to Donna. You’ve got to understand, for the longest time none of us could make any sense of her mark. We thought there’d never be someone out there who matched with her. So she’s sort of built it up in her mind, how it would go if she did have a soulmate. Sort of a fantasy.”

“And I got it all wrong.” If Wilfred had been trying to make him feel better, he’d not done too well. He hadn’t realized he could feel even worse about this, but learning he’d ruined Donna’s childhood dreams did the trick.

Wilf was grinning again. “Well, it was always gonna go wrong. That’s life, isn’t it? But she’ll come round. It’s the person that matters, not the how or the where. Why, to hear Donna talk about you made me think you two had to be meant for something, anyway.”

The Doctor blinked. “Really?”

“Well, you needn’t take my word for it. You young people ought to have that out with each other.”

He very nearly stopped to correct the other man about just who the young people were around here — but Donna was more important. No more making her feel like an afterthought.

The Doctor stood. “Thanks for the tea.”

Wilfred waved him off with a, “Good luck!”

Somehow he had to set things right with Donna. Already Davros and his Reality bomb seemed like a minor nuisance in comparison to how important this was to him.

—-

Donna felt stupid for coming here. Not that that was much of a change from how she normally felt.

She knew she was being a real hypocrite accusing the Doctor of not prioritizing her and then dragging them off here instead of finally talking. But she was so scared of it, of what might happen to them.

Maybe it wasn’t because he was really in love with someone else, but there was still some reason the Doctor had chosen not to tell her he had her name on his back. She remembered what he’d said on the beach, that marks only meant what people let them. Did it simply not matter to him, or was it just Donna he didn’t want to be soulmates with? But then what had made him ask if she didn’t want to be?

Since she’d chosen to avoid all that, though, she now had to confront what had happened just earlier in the day with her mother. Donna didn’t really think she had the energy, but she’d made the choice.

“Gramps said you wanted to talk. Apologize.”

“I do.”

There was another long, uncomfortable pause, but just when Donna opened her mouth, her mum broke it again.

“I’ve only wanted what’s best for you. And maybe I pushed too much to get you there. I didn’t know that’s how I’d made you feel. No, that’s not right,” her mother immediately corrected before she could even speak. “I knew. I just wanted to believe it’d be worth it, I suppose. That you’d get a proper job and a proper man, and then you could be happy.” Her gaze landed somewhere on the carpet. “I just didn’t stop to think that wasn’t how you wanted to do things.”

“No,” Donna agreed quietly.

“You’re just going to keep traveling?”

“I think so.” Donna wasn’t really certain about anything anymore. The last thing she wanted to do was leave the TARDIS, but she didn’t think she could bear it if she knew he didn’t really want her around.

“With this Doctor,” her mum said.

“Yeah. He’s my soulmate,” she said, just to say it, really. She hadn’t gotten the chance to yet. Part of her still just couldn’t believe it.

“Oh?” Her mother’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead. “So, you were right after all.”

“Yeah. Well, so were you, really.”

Her mother frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, think about it, mum. I’ve known him how long and never even realized we were soulmates. What’s that say about us or our relationship?” She found herself pacing in the space between the sofa and the coffee table. “I mean, I told myself I didn’t even want a soulmate once I’d got to traveling with him, and the whole time he’s just right there. I must look like the biggest idiot in the galaxy! It’s not supposed to go like that, you know? Like Martha and Mickey, all they had to do was hear each other’s names and bam. Proper soulmates.”

Donna knew her mum had no idea who Martha and Mickey were, but she couldn’t really be bothered to care. She dropped onto the sofa with a heavy sigh.

“I always mess it up.”

There was no immediate answer. Donna closed her eyes, waiting for an agreement. That this was typical Donna, and of course the Doctor hadn’t told her he had her name because the idea they were soulmates was so laughable.

“You know, I never told you how your father and I met. How we knew we were soulmates,” said her mother instead.

“Right, cause you didn’t want to get my hopes up or whatever.”

Her mother snorted. “God no. It was just too embarrassing.”

Donna looked up. “What?”

Her mum sighed. “I was working in the canteen at university. About halfway through my shift a bunch of the boys came in, rowdy as you please. They’d been playing a pickup game of rugby. And one of them comes up to the counter and asks if we’ve got anymore serviettes because he’s got a bit of a nosebleed.” Her mum shook her head. “I said it was clean broken and bleeding all over the place, and who did he think he was — and that’s when he saw my name tag.”

“No,” said Donna, her mouth hanging open.

Her mother shook her head again, though she was smiling now. “It was your father. He looked awful, and I wasn’t a very pretty sight either. Bits of food on my clothes, maybe my hair for all I knew, and he’s dripping blood on my counter and grinning like a loon.”

“You must have been so disappointed,” said Donna. It was hardly a fairytale, at any rate.

Her mum shrugged. “I suppose I was. I wanted to make something up to tell people instead of what had happened, but Geoffrey, he said it wouldn’t be us. After a while, it just didn’t seem to matter much.”

“But you still didn’t tell me,” Donna reminded.

Her mother sighed. “Well, I knew how much you cared about the whole thing. How special it seemed to you.”

Her gaze dropped to her shoes. She really had been obvious about that when she was young.

“I always wanted you to have everything right,” her mum continued. “Perfect. And despite my best efforts...you’ve managed it.”

Donna found herself even more thrown. “What?”

Her mum huffed once. “Well, you’re out there saving planets, doing more than the rest of us in just a few short years. It’s terrifying, Donna. And it’s — well, I’m prouder of you than I know how to say.” Just the smallest smile came to her face, and she added, “I can only imagine how proud your father would have been.”

“Oh, mum!” Donna was leaning across the sofa and hugging her before she knew it.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. “This Doctor,” her mother said eventually. “He...seems to make you happy. Happier than you’ve been here.”

“Yeah, he does,” Donna admitted.

“Well then it hardly matters how it happened, or how much of a fool I think he is, does it?”

She felt herself smile, then shook her head and pulled back out of the embrace. “No.” Donna leaned back in and kissed her mum on the cheek. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done it. “Thanks.” Then she stood and left the sitting room; she had a soulmate to connect with. Properly this time.

Donna nearly went crashing right into him in the hall.

“Oh! Sorry.” The Doctor had caught her with both hands on her waist, which he hastily removed.

“Where are you running off to in a hurry?” She asked, a bit teasing, hoping if he saw she’d calmed down that things wouldn’t be so awkward between them.

“You. To find you, I mean.”

He was practically tripping over himself, rubbing at the back of his neck and eyeing her nervously, and Donna could only think how awful she’d been to him about the whole thing.

“So was I.”

“Oh, brilliant. Everything sorted with your mum?”

“Yeah. Sorry for dragging you out here.” Donna hesitated, then asked, “Can we go home?”

“Home?” He echoed, clearly confused.

Donna took his arm and pulled him out the front door, right into the rain. “Yeah.”

He let her lead them at a run into the TARDIS and up the ramp. Donna let him go, put them in the Vortex as quickly as she could, and then spun back around to face him.

“Listen, I know I haven’t been all that great to be around. And it’s silly and stupid—”

“Donna, there’s no reason to apologize for how you feel.”

Well that brought her up short.

“Things didn’t happen the way you wanted, and you probably have questions about why it went the way it did.” The Doctor held his arms slightly away from his body. “I don’t want there to be any more confusion, and I don’t think you do either. Whatever you want to know, it’s yours.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me you had my name?” She finally let herself ask.

“Would you have wanted me to?”

Was he serious? “Of course I—”

“Donna, you were getting married,” he reminded her. “How would that have seemed to you, some alien you didn’t have any reason to trust claiming to be your soulmate? And then, well...you said you didn’t have a mark on the roof, and I just thought it best to say I didn’t either.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. It was all making a horrible amount of sense now that she thought about it from that angle. God, she probably would have run screaming if he’d led with that.

“And then once you’d lied you didn’t know how to stop,” she guessed. Hadn’t she been having the same problem?

When she looked at him again his brown eyes were big and guilt ridden. “I thought if you knew you’d think I only brought you along for your name, and then you’d leave.”

She didn’t know about leaving, but he was right on the money about the first part. She could just picture herself lying awake at night worrying about the other Donna, when he’d meet her, how much smarter and prettier she’d be.

“A right mess we made of it,” she sighed. “I don’t know what would be worse — just finding out now or knowing the whole time.”

“It was driving me near mad,” he admitted. “I thought I knew it wasn’t you, but it didn’t make sense. I don’t know how many times I tried turning it over in my head.”

Donna pressed her lips together and looked down. To think all the trouble she’d put him through these last few months. Any lingering hurt or anger she’d been holding onto for the way things had gone couldn’t withstand it.

“I was going to tell you.”

She felt her lips twitch in a smile. “Yeah, I know the whole Dalek thing sort of got in the way—”

“No, Donna, I mean I was going to tell you I had your name. Before I knew you had mine,” he added.

Donna stared.

“I had the whole thing planned out, see? Shan Shen, nice peaceful bit of the universe, market and nibbles.”

Her perfect date. Somehow he’d guessed at it with total accuracy.

“And the necklace,” he added. “I wanted to get you something, so you’d, ah, know it wasn’t just a normal outing.”

Donna hummed an acknowledgment. That had been rather hard to miss.

“Actually,” he said, beginning to rifle through his pockets. Eventually he produced the very one. “There we are.”

It shimmered in the light again as he held it out to her. Donna took it, but didn’t place it on.

“How much did you end up paying for it?”

He gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “It’s for you, and the point was that I was going to give it to you and explain the whole thing. That I knew you weren’t my soulmate, but that it was you I’d — well, I wasn’t interested in some other Donna or anyone by any other name.”

“But you couldn’t have known what I was gonna say,” she reasoned. “Weren’t you nervous?”

“Terrified,” he answered plainly. Then the Doctor slowly reached back out for the necklace. Donna placed it in his palm and held her breath as he went around behind her, lifted her hair and fastened it around her neck.

“But I’d decided that being with you was worth the risk. And to be with you, I had to tell you the truth.”

Donna slowly turned on the spot to look at him, feeling all kinds of overwhelmed. He’d really been willing to risk all that for her?

“I was gonna get mine removed,” she blurted.

He blinked and stepped back. “What?”

Well, if they were doing honesty hour. “My mark. I couldn’t read it, and no one else could, and I knew if you found out about it you’d want to investigate the bloody mystery. Then you’d find him on some planet out in the middle of nowhere—”

“Find who?”

“My soulmate,” she said, then rushed on with her explanation. “And then I’d be dumped off with him, and I didn’t want to meet my soulmate if it meant losing you, so my mark had to go. I set up something with the spa on Midnight, but then everything with the bus happened.”

He stood there a moment, seeming to need the time to process. “But...if I didn’t know about your mark, why did you think I was gonna look into it and find your hypothetical soulmate?”

Donna tried not to roll her eyes, she really did. “Because if we’d gotten together you’d have probably noticed it pretty quick.”

His eyes went wide. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.”

They looked at each other. Then the corner of Spaceman’s mouth ticked up, a snort left her, and they were gone laughing. One of her hands reached out to grasp his arm to keep herself from falling over, and the Doctor was bent double. There were possibly tears in his eyes.

“Oh, we really are a pair, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, a bit breathless. “Yeah, we are.”

This was probably one of those moments they’d been having where they’d lock eyes, and they’d slowly calm down while gazing at the other, only for the phone to ring or the TARDIS to take off without warning.

Donna decided to skip all that. She grabbed the Doctor’s face between her hands and crushed her lips to his. It was less messy and chaotic than the detox kiss she’d given him — though still a bit wet from the rain — only because there were no walnuts or anchovies involved. But without those in the way she could feel his mouth start to move against hers in earnest. Her heart had already been pounding, but it only began to beat faster as his head tilted, and that somehow lined their lips up so much better.

Donna staggered a half-step forward and felt his hands land back on her waist. They remained right where they were this time, much to her pleasure. She wished she could travel back to her own past, if only to scream at herself for waiting so bloody long for this. Maybe then she would have put the pieces together, for nothing had ever felt so right as this before.

“I want to see it,” she breathed against his lips.

“See what?”

“My name. Can I?”

A shiver went through him that she could feel, and that was a whole level of excitement she hadn’t yet let herself contemplate.

Of course, he had to stop kissing her to do as she’d asked, a side effect she’d somehow forgotten about. She watched somewhat impatiently as the Doctor removed his jacket and draped it over the railing, then loosened his tie, and finally undid the top couple buttons of his shirt.

He paused there a moment. “Blimey, can’t really remember the last time I showed someone. Martha, I suppose, but that was an accident.”

“Do I even want to know what all went on when Martha traveled with you?”

“It was entirely innocent!” He protested, turning his back to her.

“Yeah, I bet if I asked Martha, I’d get a different story,” she said, then stopped, for he’d tugged aside his shirt collar and the one he wore underneath to reveal the five letters that made up her name. Right there, plain as day. She found herself stepping forward, her arm lifting slowly.

Her name on someone’s back to match the one on hers. Donna couldn’t help tracing over the letters with a couple fingers, and Spaceman’s head lolled to the side under the light touch.

“It’s really real,” she said in a hushed voice. “I mean, I know it was before, but this just — I can’t believe it’s my name. Of all the people you’ve known, and it’s me.”

“Well, you’ll just have to believe it, Donna.” He turned back around to face her. “That mark has been with me for over nine-hundred years. It’s the one constant I’ve had, and it was just waiting for you.”

Spaceman was smiling at her, his eyes just liquid pools of warm brown, and she wanted to return it. But she couldn’t keep from saying, “Waiting for me to stop being so stupid about it, I suppose. We could’ve had this whole thing figured out ages ago if I knew Circular Gallifreyan.”

“Donna,” he groaned. The Doctor took her hands again and guided her to sit with him on the jumpseat. “Gallifreyan just isn’t taught anywhere else but Gallifrey. How were you supposed to translate it on your own?”

He was right, but she still couldn’t look at him. “I know, but—”

“I didn’t always understand what my mark said either,” he told her.

Donna blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I wasn’t born knowing your language. They were just some strange looking symbols to me. I didn’t know well into the Academy what it said. And then, well, I still didn’t have it quite right. A friend and I translated it as lady.”

She looked round at him at last. “Did you really?”

One of his hands left hers to rub the back of his neck again. “Well, it is the literal translation, you have to understand.”

She started laughing. “What, so you just thought it meant some woman?”

He gave a half shrug. “It wasn’t until I started traveling and came to Earth that I realized it was an actual name. Must have been at least a couple centuries old by that point.”

A couple centuries! She wasn’t going to be able to breathe if he kept on. He started chuckling as well and it was a while before she could calm herself. Yet a sobering thought occurred to her.

“But I still don’t know what it says.”

“What says?”

“My mark.” She sat back to look at him properly. “I mean I doubt it’s just Gallifreyan for Doctor. I still don’t know your name.”

He grimaced. “Donna, I can’t tell you that.”

She moved away from him to the other end of the jump seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “And just why not?”

“Because it would mean we were married, and if I couldn’t introduce myself as your soulmate properly I’m at least going to marry you properly,��� was his answer. He started tugging on his ear under her wide-eyed stare. “That is, you know, if you wanted marriage at some point in the indefinite future.”

It occurred to her dimly that there was a question in there she was probably meant to answer, but she was still hung up on what he’d first said.

“How is that a marriage? You say hi to someone, and you’re hitched? Your people were bonkers.”

He gave an exasperated shake of the head. “There’s some other details, mostly to do with the families of each participant consenting and giving their children away, but the name is the foundational block, yes. My people didn’t necessarily hold much with soulmates, but names were still important. You didn’t tell just anybody — River!”

Donna jumped at the sudden outburst. “What?”

He sat straight up, eyes wide. “River Song, she knew my name. I didn’t know how because, well, she’s not you, but it must have been you she was talking about!”

“Hold on, when did any of this happen?”

But the Doctor had stood up and was clearly lost on his own little train of thought. “‘Tell her I’m sorry’. She said that. I didn’t know what it meant, but she must have been talking about you. She gets the name off your back somehow. Still doesn’t explain how she knows Circular Gallifreyan, but it does mean I don’t marry her in the future.” He threw himself back onto the jump seat next to her. “That’s a relief.”

“Yeah, it’s a relief. You just promised to marry me, and I’m not into the whole sister wives scene!”

The arm he’d slowly been extending along the backrest towards her retracted. “Course not.”

Donna let out a breath. “Does that mean I mess up? If names are that important, should I not have been showing it to other people? I don’t think anyone else who saw it could read it,” she added quickly. God, she was such a screw-up.

“Donna, it’s okay,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do. When people meddle in their own personal timestreams — or the personal timestreams of others the way things happened at the Library, it creates fixed time. Since River told me my name and implied she got it from you, that’s just the way things have to happen.”

“Right. Timelines.”

He reached for her shoulders and waited for her to face him. “Whatever’s going to happen will happen, and it’s not your fault.”

“Okay,” she accepted softly.

The Doctor moved his hands to cup her cheeks, then brought his lips to hers. It was a more gentle kiss than their previous ones, a slow exploration. Donna’s eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned in, one of her hands landing on his thigh to balance herself. To think they could have been doing this for months, maybe years...

A sigh escaped her, and the Doctor pulled back to ask, “Something wrong?”

Donna shook her head. “No.” Then because she still wanted that closeness, she shifted and leaned into his side. Her Spaceman obligingly wrapped his arms around her, and Donna smiled.

“It’s just, everyone always said,” she couldn’t help continuing. “Finding your soulmate changes your whole world. And here we are just going along like normal.”

“With more kissing,” he observed. “That’s been a nice change.”

Donna turned her face into his chest to hide her grin for a moment. “Yeah, with more kissing. We were headed that way anyway, though.”

“Well, maybe that’s just it,” he said. She tilted her head back to look at him. “I was fairly decided that soulmates were complete nonsense and nothing but trouble when I met you. And I suspect you felt the same if you were marrying Lance.”

“Yeah.”

“So we wouldn’t have liked the idea of being together just because we’re soulmates. Why should we have? That’s not how it ought to be at all. We’re soulmates because we like — well, we...love — being together.”

The indirect admission made something warm bloom in her chest, and Donna pushed herself up to kiss him on the cheek. “Oh, you daft Spaceman. I love you, too.”

She snuggled back into his arms and pretended not to notice how he’d turned all pink at her words.

“Besides,” he added eventually, “my whole world changed the minute you appeared on my TARDIS.”

Donna pressed her lips together and hugged him just a little tighter. “Yeah. Suppose that should have been a clue.”

A yawn escaped her, and she blinked in some surprise. She’d completely forgotten how tired she was.

“Do you need to sleep?” The Doctor asked.

“Maybe, but I don’t want to get up just yet.” She was far too comfy, and besides she was too busy enjoying the new closeness she was allowed with her Spaceman. “Were the Daleks really today?”

“Yes. So was moving the planets. And Shan Shen,” he reminded her, and she could hear a smile in his voice.

“Shan Shen feels like two years ago. Suppose it was, what with the whole Time Beetle thing. Do those count for me? I spent about two years there and what felt like two years in the Library, give or take. Am I technically over forty?”

He didn’t answer for a long time. “You’re whatever age you want to be.”

“Oi.” She shifted her hold in order to prod him in the side. The Doctor squirmed, but couldn’t really do much to get away. “This is important to you, too. I made a bet with Nerys years ago that I’d get married before forty.”

“Right, I’ll mark the calendar as soon as I feel like moving,” he promised. His attempts to pull her in closer forced her to throw her legs over his lap, and her feet dangled in the air over the side of the jump seat. Probably wanted to keep her close enough to make poking at him too difficult, the sneaky man.

“Listen to you! Haven’t even proposed yet and you’re setting the wedding date.”

“I sort of proposed,” he argued. “I said I wanted to marry you, and you didn’t disagree.”

“If you’re marrying me properly that comes with a proper proposal,” she insisted.

“Fine, fine,” he groaned. “High maintenance, you are. What else was it you wanted?” He rubbed her back with one hand while he pretended to think. “Oh, right, a list of everyone who knew before you did.”

She felt her face heat up. “I think I liked it better when you thought I was angry.” It’d probably be more convincing were she not currently half-asleep on top of him and idly playing with the sunflower stone necklace he’d gotten her. It was just so pretty and smooth.

“I bet you did,” he said nevertheless. “Let’s see. Well, me, obviously.”

“Your friend with the rubbish translation,” she muttered.

He snorted. “Right, him. And my, uh, my first wife.”

“I thought that’s who you had, when Martha let slip you had a mark.”

She felt his head shake. “No. Time Lords really didn’t pay attention to marks. It was just seen as a leftover quirk of evolution. I’d have hardly noticed mine if it weren’t odd.”

“Watch whose name you’re calling odd,” she warned around another yawn.

“Everything’s relative, Donna. I really was quite good at not letting people know. It only got bad once you came on board.”

She frowned. “And how’s that?”

“Well, everyone just assumed I had your name. Martha saw it before, of course. Then there was Agatha — though I suppose she’s forgotten it again.”

“Can’t get anything past Agatha,” said Donna, rather sagely in her opinion.

“No, you can’t. River obviously knows — but does that really count as knowing before you do? She’s from the future.”

“Counts,” said Donna. Her eyes kept falling closed, and it was getting harder to blink them back open again.

“Alright. Josiah and some of the Puritans—”

That got her eyes back open. “You told the people trying to burn me at the stake?”

“I told you, they guessed! The only other people I really told were Davros—”

“Davros?”

“It just sort of happened that way,” the Doctor repeated. He removed one hand to finish ticking off on his fingers, “Sarah Jane, Jack, Mickey, Jackie, and Rose.”

Donna felt his chest rise and fall with a sigh after the last name.

She let go of her necklace and laid her hand over his right heart. “She’ll be alright. There’s a whole universe out there for her, and she needed to know the truth so she’d go out there and take advantage of it. It wouldn’t have been right to leave her wondering.”

“I wish it had already happened for her. She shouldn’t have wasted ten years on me. All that time—”

“She’ll find her soulmate when it’s good for her, not to make you feel better,” she chided. “It’s not like she’s some old maid just yet. She’s young.”

“Everyone’s young compared to me.” He sounded so sad, and whatever comfort she was about to give died on her lips when he pressed his own to the top of her head.

Everyone. Including her.

She’d never tried to dwell on it much, not even when she poked fun at his age or resolved to travel with him the rest of her life. They didn’t have the same version of forever.

He’d thought that soulmates were complete nonsense and nothing but trouble. He hadn’t said it was because he’d been given a soulmate he couldn’t expect to last longer than a nice cat. What had the universe gone and done that to him for? She could’ve lived with a blank back if it meant he’d been paired up with someone better for him.

“Donna?”

She hadn’t realized she’d frozen up in his arms. For a moment, Donna floundered, having no idea what to say. Was she meant to say something about it or would that just make everything worse? There weren’t really any words that could fix it. All she had was herself, and she’d freely give that to him for as long as she could.

Donna pushed up off his chest, then kissed him before more than a surprised sound could escape his mouth. She tried to put all she felt into it, wanting to be worth the eventual pain.

He was the one to break it off, and it wasn’t until he brought his hands up to hold her face and wipe at the corners of her eyes that she realized it was because she’d started crying. “Donna? Donna, what’s wrong?”

God, she was a mess. “I should — I should turn in.” Donna got off his lap and hurried down the corridor to her room, swiping furiously at the remainder of her tears. She needed to be better than this. She had to stay strong, or what good of a soulmate was she? The last thing she wanted was to hurt him more than he would be.

Tomorrow she’d be better, Donna resolved. Her emotions were running too high and her nerves were frayed from all that had happened today. They’d nearly lost the whole bloody universe. A bit of rest, and she’d be ready to handle it.

Truthfully she didn’t know how she’d get to sleep with everything that was going through her head, but upon dropping onto her mattress Donna didn’t even register hitting the pillow before her exhaustion pulled her under.

—-

Well, now he’d done it.

The Doctor watched Donna leave and this time he couldn’t call her back or run after her because it really was his fault. Not a misunderstanding or an accident, just purely his own doing.

Why had he said it? He should have kept his own melancholy thoughts to himself. Donna shouldn’t have to be troubled with them.

He couldn’t blame her for not thinking of it before; it just wasn’t how she saw the world. Donna was always so in the moment, so ready to feel and experience whatever happened. Pain affected her more strongly than most anyone he’d known, while her happiness warmed even the coldest person.

The Doctor had had to learn how to distance himself from his pain, or he’d never be free of it. As a consequence, perhaps he didn’t know how to let himself be happy anymore either.

He leaned forward in the jump seat and placed his head in his hands.

There’d been no reason to ruin things. Yes, it was true that she was young — no matter what she said about forty — and like all humans would die so tragically young compared to him, but on some level he’d already accepted that the minute he’d decided to pursue a relationship with her. That was his burden, not hers, and he didn’t have to let it hang like a pall over their time together.

Already his arms felt empty and his body cold from the loss of her, even as the taste of her lingered on his lips from that last searing kiss. There was no question; he would rather have however long he was allowed with Donna than to not have it at all.

The Doctor knew at any rate that Donna would still be with him a while yet; he had River Song as a benchmark. They would meet her at least once again, and not only that but let her learn his name. But after that...

They would have to face it, and then simply set it aside until the time came. He refused to let this come between them, not after everything else had tried to. Donna deserved far better than a soulmate who could only think about once she’d gone.

He got up from the jump seat and left the console room, following the same route Donna had so recently taken. The TARDIS placed her room almost immediately in his path, and he touched the wall briefly in thanks. Then he reached out and knocked softly on the door. “Donna?”

There was no answer. The Doctor risked easing the door open and poking his head inside.

When his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, he found she’d collapsed on her bed fully dressed. She’d had such a hard day, and then some if he was being honest, which wasn’t even accounting for the time she’d spent in that parallel world.

He went to the foot of her bed and started undoing the laces on her shoes. Once removed, each was placed neatly on the floor. He undid the clasp on her necklace and laid that carefully on the bedside table. Her hoop earrings were next.

Donna was curled up on her side, so he slipped her left arm out of the sleeve of her jacket before gently turning her over to do the same with the right.

Only once he did so, he froze.

There was a faint glow showing through the back of her shirt, right where her mark was. Donna had said it had been glowing before, and he’d assumed it had stopped when her eyes did. With a guilty glance up at her face, he carefully peeled back her shirt from her mark.

Just a few of the arcs and curves in the circles that made up his name were glimmering now, like the last embers of a fire going out. Donna still held his regeneration energy within her. They’d determined it wasn’t fatal, but what was it doing?

Knowing he was probably heading for a good smack on the arm out of surprise if nothing else, the Doctor took out the sonic and activated it, scanning up and down the length of Donna’s body. She slept right through it, which certainly spoke to how tired she had to be.

His screwdriver had taken a reading, but he needed more sophisticated equipment to properly analyze it. The Doctor tucked the sonic away again before placing a kiss to her forehead and leaving the room.

In the medbay, he plugged the sonic screwdriver into some machinery to input the readings. It took some time to process, which he spent mostly by tapping his feet impatiently. Finally, one of the monitors beeped, and he rushed over to have a look.

Yes, it was regeneration energy she had absorbed, only it seemed to have fuzed entirely with her cell structure.

“Hold on, if that’s right...” he said aloud. The Doctor took out his specs and leaned in for a closer look.

The rates of cellular replication and regeneration were off the charts for a human. But for a Time Lord? Practically equal. Not only that, but her cell aging seemed to have slowed dramatically.

Donna wasn’t aging like a human anymore.

“Oh.” He had to catch himself on the table for he’d gone a bit weak in the knees. The Doctor heard something wrenched from his throat that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a sob. “Oh, she’s brilliant. She — Donna.”

He had to tell her. She’d hardly believe it, but he needed her to know. The Doctor went sprinting from the medbay and down the corridor — only to slide to a stop and double back as the TARDIS had again moved Donna’s room right next door.

“Donna!” He didn’t bother with knocking this time, bursting back into the room as the ship brought the lights up all the way.

Donna gave a groggy half-groan, then yelled as he leapt onto the bed and pulled her up into a hug.

“Have you totally lost it?” She demanded, loud enough that he thought his ears might start ringing. The Doctor wasn’t all that concerned.

He pulled back to look at her with a grin that threatened to split his face. “No! Maybe! If I have, I don’t care!”

Having said that, he kissed her. Was it making up for lost time when their time now seemed to stretch out before him into the unknown? He didn’t care about that either. All he knew was he wanted to kiss her until his lips were numb, until he could no longer count how many times he’d done it.

Donna was a bit sluggish in responding, which he supposed was understandable, and when he broke off to let her breath she asked, “If you’re gonna pretend to be happy, can it wait till morning?”

“I don’t have to pretend,” he told her with a shake of the head. “And it can’t wait. Donna, we were wrong about the regeneration energy — it’s not harmful, but it did affect you.”

“What do you mean? Hold on, how do you even know that? Did you bleep me?” It didn’t hold quite the usual bite considering she wasn’t quite awake yet.

“I maybe took a reading,” he admitted, then swiftly moved on. “But the energy has been assimilated by your body, and in doing so made changes on the cellular level.”

“Sorry, you’re happy about this?”

“Yes! Your rates of cellular regeneration and replication have increased and your cell aging’s gone the opposite way.”

“You know I hate it when you try to talk science first thing.” Donna was still rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “So, wait, what does that mean for you?”

“It’s not what it means for me, it’s what it means for us.” He took her hands and looked her right in the eye. “You’re not aging the way you used to. Barring any injury, your lifespan’s been extended far past the average human’s.”

He wasn’t sure if it was what he’d said or just her brain still waking back up that had her blinking at him in confusion. “So...I’m like the elves in Lord of the Rings?”

The Doctor felt one of his eyebrows raise. “When did you see Lord of the Rings?”

“Who says I saw it? Am I not allowed an interest in literature?”

The Doctor couldn’t help a dubious look.

Donna caved. “Viggo Mortensen is not bad to look at. You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Yes, a comparison could be made between you and the elves in Lord of the Rings,” the Doctor told her while making a mental note to avoid any possible run-ins with Viggo Mortensen for the foreseeable future.

“Am I gonna regenerate? That whole changing faces thing?”

He could tell the whole thing somewhat frightened her, and having a human’s sense of self he couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t as if he was overly fond of it whenever it happened to him.

“No. And I don’t think you’ll have the same immunity to weaponry or anything going forward. Time Lords usually have a grace period of about fifteen hours after regeneration where they can’t be harmed, and your fifteen is nearly up.”

“But I’m not going to get old,” she checked.

“Not for a long time,” he confirmed.

“Is it long enough, though? For me to stay with you,” she added before he could ask.

Of course that was what worried her most. He didn’t know how much more he could possibly love this woman, but he also suspected he was simply going to keep finding out.

“It should be. I only have one regeneration left. Which means...I will change. I can’t really do anything to stop that next time since the hand’s gone.”

When Donna let go of the two hands he did have, the Doctor’s eyes fell closed. But then she laid them on his chest.

“You’ve changed before,” she said quietly.

“Yes.”

“But you’re still the same person?”

“I know it’s strange, but my memories carry over between faces. Some of my preferences might be different — I might lose my taste for bananas, that sort of thing. But I’m still me,” he struggled to explain.

“And you said you’ve had my name all this time?”

He finally let himself look at her again. Donna was watching him, her eyes displaying curiosity, not fear.

“Yes. My whole life.”

She smiled then, just a small, gentle one. “Then that’s what matters to me. I won’t lie, the rest of it sounds weird — but weird’s normal with you. And if you’ve always been waiting for me, I’m not leaving you unless someone makes me, and they’ll have to put up a good fight.”

His hearts felt about ready to burst they were so full. “Donna,” was all he could manage.

She looped her arms around his neck and held him close, her cheek rubbing against his. The Doctor stroked her hair and tried to think of the right word for what he was feeling. Happy didn’t quite cover it; love was certainly a part; yet something unfamiliar to him eluded him.

He resorted to asking Donna, as he always did when he didn’t have the answer himself. “Do you know what I am right now?”

“Tired?” She guessed. “That’s about where I am.”

“Sorry. I just had to tell you.”

“No, I know, Spaceman,” she assured him, turning her face to brush her nose along his jawline and press her lips to the same spot a moment later.

“I know we have all the time in the universe now, but I could stay like this for a century,” he tried to explain.

“Can we settle for just the night?”

“Sure,” he agreed readily. Anything Donna wanted he felt bound to give her.

“Alright,” she said, then rather contradictorily let him go.

Donna pushed him without warning, and the Doctor’s back hit the mattress with an “Oof!” He hadn’t quite got his breath back when she sprawled half on top of him, her head resting on his chest.

“If you’re staying, you’re letting me sleep,” she mumbled.

The Doctor lay there a few moments staring up at the ceiling in sheer surprise as the TARDIS slowly dimmed the lights all the way to total darkness. Donna snuggled more firmly into his chest, one of her hands curling into a fist around his tie.

Then he wrapped his arms back around her. “I think I can do that.”

A quick peek showed the last of the glow to Donna’s mark was fading away, the regeneration energy fully settled. Much in the same way they were settled down for the night. There was no telling quite what awaited them tomorrow, or the next year, or even the next century; all he knew right now was that he didn’t have to face it alone. He had Donna, his best and soulmate.

Then it hit him. “Content.”

“Mm?”

“That’s what this is. More than happiness, not quite euphoria, just...enough. I’m content.”

“Good for you,” Donna said with a yawn. “Only took almost a millennia.”

He shifted to tuck her head under his chin. “It was worth the wait.”

Together and content, they drifted off to sleep.

[as-inevitable-as-morning]

Final Thoughts (Pt. 1): “The Other Side”

The Bellarke fandom almost broke the internet last night, but it wasn’t in the context all of us expected to. Episode 4x11, entitled “The Other Side,” seemed to be advertised as an incredibly Bellarke-centric episode, and many of us were... disappointed (to say the least) when it wasn’t. I was one of those people. I found myself underwhelmed by a mediocre episode that had the potential for so much more, and logged off because of the way I was feeling. I took some of the time I spent offline further analyzing the episode and trying to piece everything together contextually. I think I’ve done a somewhat decent job of it with this post, and if you’re interested to hear my final thoughts and potentially gain a bit of hope after last night’s episode, please continue reading!

I’m going to start with the Bellarke and N.iylarke of it all, considering that seems to be what made people most upset.

The opening scene of the episode features Bellamy arguing with Clarke and Jaha. Bellamy is, quite frankly, pissed. He’s pissed not only about Skaikru’s betrayal, but their lack of faith. Faith in the survival of the human race, in the grounders, in Octavia. On the other side of the argument is logic. “Luna was in the final four as well,” Clarke explains, and that meant that there was a slim chance of anyone surviving at all. Bellamy understands where she’s coming from, can see why she did what she did, but he’s still not happy about it.

After this, Abby comes into the office and joins Bellamy’s side of things after realizing that Marcus is nowhere to be found. Clarke turns on the computer and gives them both a chance to say goodbye, but it doesn’t get that far. Bellamy spends a few moments talking to Octavia and it’s revealed that she won the conclave, but ultimately decided to share the bunker with the other clans. Now we have a new problem: if the grounders discover the fact that Skaikru betrayed them, everyone in the bunker could die.

Bellamy explains that he had no part in taking the bunker, but promises that he’ll fix things by opening the door. Seconds later, Jaha reenters the room with several guards. Bellamy fights them off to the best of his ability, but falters when he is shocked with an electric baton. He slowly loses consciousness while looking at a worried Clarke, a stark contrast to 3x13.

The next Bellarke-related scene we get is my absolute favorite, and I have seen so few people talking about it that it’s starting to drive me a bit crazy. Jaha suggests that they find someone else to guard Bellamy, “someone who cares more about survival than being liked,” and Clarke enlists Murphy’s help. There is a brief passing and exchange of keys before Miller and another guard leave the hallway. “You’ll talk to him?” John asks Clarke after the two are left alone, and she nods her head. “Yeah,” she says, stepping closer to the door that leads to the room where Bellamy is being kept. For a moment, it seems like she might actually walk in there and try and talk things out with him, but then tears start to form in her eyes and she steps away. “I’ll relieve you in six hours,” she tells Murphy before scurrying off.

I find it very interesting that the thing that seems to hurt Clarke most is knowing that Bellamy is hurting, and this hurt is only amplified by the fact that she is the one responsible for his suffering and grief.

Next we have the N.iylarke cuddle scene, which at the time I thought was very out of place and unnecessary. I still think it was a mistake for the show’s narrative and that it made things a bit confusing, but I understand the thoughts behind it now. They needed to show how torn up Clarke was about the dilemma she was facing. The poor girl’s only eighteen, and she’s got the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. Say what you will, but she’s trying her best. She’s young, she’s human- she’s going to make mistakes. In order to convey Clarke’s genuine concern, they needed to have her be vulnerable with someone. The person that she’s most vulnerable with is Bellamy, but he’s locked up in chains and disagrees with her. Next in line is her mother, but Abby doesn’t seem to agree with her either and has a storyline of her own this episode. The next choice is N.iylah, a kind person that is very keen to offer Clarke the physical comfort she desires in order to make her feel a bit better. The writers choose the most logical choice of character for Clarke to open up to, but they seem to forget the heavy Bellarke undertones that run through this episode. So, when you and I watch it first glance, we say, “Woah! Wait a minute! Hold up! This doesn’t make sense! What about this? What about that?” We don’t like it much, but after a few re-watches you can see what the writers were trying to do. They were trying to show how beat up Clarke is about everything and the genuine concern she has for the survival of the human race.

The scene helps to further develop the next choice Clarke will have to make: Bellamy or survival?

I will never approve of threatening loved ones with physical violence, ever. I will never approve of manipulating the ones you love in order to get what you want. I will never try to romanticize these things, either. I honestly would’ve preferred it if the gun scene never happened, but this is a show that asks some pretty dark questions. It asks, “If you believe that doing so will save people from dying, will you let someone you love die? Will you kill them?”

The two show down as Bellamy attempts to open the door, and Clarke fires a warning shot. “What are you doing?” he asks. “What I have to,” Clarke replies, repeating his words back to him. “Like always.”

I would like to take a moment and point out the significance of Clarke’s choice of words, here. She thinks she’s alone in all of this. She thinks that everything is her burden to bear. What she doesn’t seem to understand is that Bellamy takes everything just as literally, and he shoulders it all with her.

“This isn’t like shutting the dropship door, or pulling the lever in Mount Weather or the City of Light. We knew what we were stopping then,” he explains in a desperate attempt to reason with her. “Now we know nothing.” We. Not singular, plural. An inclusive pronoun. His choice of words perfectly demonstrates the Bellarke mantra that has been carried through the course of the show since season two at the very latest: We. Together. These are the terms that define the dynamic between these two characters.

Bellamy only changes to a singular pronoun when Clarke still refuses to drop the gun. “You’re gonna have to make it a kill shot,” he tells her with a surprising amount of calm in his voice. He’s calling her bluff. “That’s the only way to stop me.”

Clarke breaks all over again at his words. Because of course she can’t do it. Of course she can’t kill him. She’d rather see the entire human race die off than see Bellamy Blake dead. That’s established canon now. I don’t like the way that it was done (i.e. confrontation with a gun), but there’s no arguing against it. She still believes in that moment that everyone will die if they open that door, but she drops her hand and lets him do it anyway. She chooses to trust him. She chooses to have faith in him. She chooses to believe that they will find a way to get through this, like always: together.

[smartgirlsaremean]

My Heart’s in the Highlands - Chapter 9

Fandom: OUAT, Hamish Macbeth

Pairing: Bellish

Rating: T

Summary: With Rumplestiltskin gone, Belle can't face going back to the Enchanted Forest without him. She leaves Storybrooke forever, travels the world, and ends up in a small village in Scotland, where she meets a constable with a very familiar face.

AO3

Last Time: After learning that he had the Sight, Belle, curious about the apparent presence of magic and the supernatural in Lochdubh, told TV John about her past in the Enchanted Forest and Storybooke.

“Mornin’, Belle.”

“Morning, Hamish!”

Hamish grinned. Belle was always chipper, but today she looked ready to turn cartwheels. “Good news, I take it?”

“The best! I can finally move out of Esme’s house!”

For a hideous moment Hamish thought the worst, that she’d had enough of village life and was leaving Lochdubh. Her sunny smile, though, banished that thought almost as soon as it appeared.

“Found a flat?”

“A house, actually, just across the street. The McElroys moved to Inverness to be near their grandchildren. They’ve left the furniture and everything, which is wonderful because I don’t have any at all, and I haven’t saved quite enough to furnish a whole house.”

“That tired of living with Esme, are you?”

“Of course not! She’s a wonderful roommate! But...well, I was beginning to feel a bit like a third wheel, if I’m honest.”

Hamish grinned. “Aye, I’ve heard that before. They’re lovely people, Rory and Esme, but they can get a bit...focused on each other.”

“They’re an adorable couple, really,” Belle sighed with a dreamy sort of smile. “So passionate about each other, so sweet and considerate. I’m grateful to Esme for putting me up, but I know they won’t be sorry to see the back of me.”

“When do you move in?”

“Tomorrow!” She spun away to pick up a pile of books and Hamish followed her into the stacks.

“Need any help?”

“I’ve got it, thanks.”

“I mean with moving.”

She turned to look at him, tilting her head with a little smile. “All I have is my clothes, Hamish. But if you really want to help...it wouldn’t exactly be easy to carry two suitcases across the street by myself.”

“Of course I want to help. Wouldn’t offer otherwise, would I?”

She shook her head and carefully pushed a book into place. “Meet me at Esme’s at about eight tomorrow?”

“‘Course.”

“You’re sure you’ve got everything, Belle?” Esme looked at Belle’s suitcases uncertainly. “I know you said you didn’t have much, but…”

“That’s it, honestly, Esme.”

“You’re not going to take them both yourself?”

“No, Hamish should be here any minute to help me.”

“Hamish! That’s very neighborly of him.”

Belle narrowed her eyes at Esme’s tone. “Yes, it is.”

“Hmm. A pity you don’t have any furniture to move over. I always like to see a man do a bit of hard labor. D’you want to borrow one of my armchairs?”

“Esme!” Belle giggled even as she fought a mental image of Hamish’s wiry arms flexing under a heavy load. Surely moving furniture would be warm and he’d want to wear something a bit cooler than those button-down flannels he was so fond of in his off hours...

“Oh, never mind, I’m sure you’ll find a coffee table or summat in the house that isn’t in the ideal spot.”

“You’re terrible,” Belle scolded.

Esme winked at her. “I don’t suppose you’re going to repay him for his help with a nice home-cooked meal.”

“Why would I do that? I don’t want to punish him when he’s being nice to me.”

Shaking her head, Esme smiled and straightened the tablecloth, glancing out the window. “You’re good for him, Belle. He hasn’t smiled sae much in a long time. I was afraid he wouldn’t meet anyone else after Isobel left for...well, the Lord only knows where she is now.”

Belle froze in the act of pulling back a curtain. “Isobel? Who’s Isobel?”

“Oh...Hamish hasn’t told you?”

“It’s not as if we’re a couple,” Belle pointed out a little peevishly.

“Well, she...she’s a reporter. She worked for the Listener until she got her big break and moved to Glasgow about two years ago.”

“And she and Hamish were...together?”

“Not exactly.” Esme twisted her hands. “It’s a bit of a long story, and Hamish should be the one to tell you. I’m sorry I brought it up...I thought you knew.”

No, she hadn’t known. He’d said something about a loss, but he’d also said that was three years ago, not two. Of course it was silly to be even a little uneasy about this information about his past: he had a bit of a reputation, and it couldn’t all be exaggerated. But Esme made it sound as if this had been a serious connection, and now Belle was absolutely burning with curiosity.

At precisely eight o’clock Hamish knocked on Esme’s door. He easily hefted the largest of Belle’s suitcases and followed her across the street. Belle’s hands shook with excitement as she used her key to open the door of her new house. The door swung in on slightly rusty hinges and Hamish stepped forward to turn on the light.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, and Belle giggled. She’d had the same reaction when she first set foot in the house, though she hadn’t said it aloud. The thick shag carpeting was a sickly gold color, the walls a shade of faded pea green. And the furniture…

“This is the ugliest bloody house I’ve ever seen,” Hamish said solemnly, looking around him with wide eyes.

“I don’t think they’ve bought a single stick of furniture since 1967,” Belle agreed, wrestling her suitcase in the door.

“How could you possibly live here? I’m getting a headache just standing here.”

“It won’t be forever. I’ve already chosen a color for the walls, and the carpet’ll come up. There are lovely hardwood floors underneath.”

“The McCraes could probably help with that. And as soon as you can replace the furniture I’ll be more than happy to toss this garbage out for you.”

“I’m not totally helpless, y’know,” Belle teased him.

“Aye, I know, but why go it alone when there’s people to help?”

Belle had no answer to that. She just wasn’t used to people offering to help.

“Where are we putting these?” Hamish gestured at the suitcases.

“Oh, uh…” Belle felt herself blush. “Right down the hall.”

Her bedroom - the only bedroom in the place - was just as garishly decorated as the rest of the house, except that the walls were a bright fuschia.

“Holy hell,” Hamish huffed as he set his suitcase down. “Are you gonna get any sleep in here at all?” Belle felt her face flush more deeply, and Hamish turned horrified eyes on her. “I didnae mean...I...that was…”

“It’s okay.” She pushed her suitcase farther into the room. “This’ll probably be the first room I paint.”

Hamish had set down the other suitcase and scuttled backward, and now he was hovering in the doorway as if afraid he would be struck by lightning if he reentered the room. “Is that everything, then?”

“Yes, that’s everything.”

Hamish returned to the living room and stood in the center of the room, bouncing slightly on the balls of feet. Belle followed him and tried not to laugh; for all his swagger and confidence, he could certainly act like a shy teenager when he was feeling off balance.

“Esme suggested a homemade meal to thank you, but I like you too much to try to poison you,” she said, which earned her one of his crooked smiles. “How do you feel about the Stag Bar?”

“Best restaurant in town, innit?”

“Give me a few minutes and dinner’ll be my treat.”

“Blue?”

Belle looked up from where she was placing drop cloths over the chairs. “It’s my favorite.”

Hamish looked thoughtfully at the paint cans he’d opened. “It’s a good color.” It was a paler version of the color of her eyes, but he didn’t want to say that. “You don’t wanna protect the carpet?”

Belle grinned at him. “Are you kidding? The carpet’s coming up anyway. I saved a fortune on drop cloths.” She put her hands on her hips and looked around. “I think we’re ready.” Tossing him a roll of painter’s tape, Belle pulled off her sweatshirt to reveal a black tank top and Hamish nearly swallowed his tongue. She glanced at him and raised her eyebrows. “You’re going to get paint all over that shirt.”

“I’ll, uh...I’ll be fine.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Taking her own roll of tape, Belle bent down to begin placing tape on the baseboards and Hamish took a deep breath, moving to the other side of the room. It was going to be a long day.

When all the tape was laid they started work on the walls, Hamish taking charge of the roller while Belle did the trim. They chatted about the library and books and their friends in the village, and Hamish did his very best not to notice that Belle’s tank top dipped a little too low when she bent over and then slipped up above the waistband of her sweatpants when she reached above her head (which was frequently, the precious wee thing). They ate sandwiches on the floor while the first coat dried, the room pleasantly cool from the breeze drifting through the open windows. When they got up to begin work on the second coat, Belle gestured at the front of his button-down.

“I knew that would happen.”

Hamish looked down and groaned. Flecks of blue paint covered the entire front of the shirt. “I was careful!”

“The roller splatters. I did warn you.” Belle herself was dotted with blue, too, but he doubted she cared much.

“No need to rub it in.” He shrugged out of the paint-spattered flannel and tossed it to the side. When he turned back to his roller he noticed that Belle had frozen in place, her eyes wide. “What? Did I get paint in my hair or summat?”

Smirking, Belle shook her head, her eyes flitting over him. He felt suddenly self-conscious in his white T-shirt and fought the urge to cross his arms over his chest. After a few seconds Belle turned back to her wall.

The atmosphere as they applied the second coat was much more subdued. The air felt a little thicker, the room a little smaller, Hamish thought they were a little closer to each other than before, accidentally brushing against each other a bit more often.

The room was almost finished and Hamish was concentrating very hard on anything but the fact that Belle was kneeling at his feet touching up the trim while he rolled paint onto the last stretch of wall. He heard her move away at last and, sighing with relief, he allowed his arms to fall.

“Hey!” Belle yelped.

He started and looked down. “Ah, hell, I’m sorry,” he groaned. He’d painted a wide pale blue strip right down the center of her head. “I didnae…”

“Did I put too much sugar in the tea or something?” she teased, shaking her brush at him.

“No, ay course - oi!” He jumped back when her brush made contact with his cheek.

“Oh, sorry,” she said sweetly. “Accident.”

“The hell it was!” he growled. He snatched up a brush and advanced on her. “When I finish wi’ you, French, folk’ll think ye’re a bloody Smurf.”

It was a blessing the chairs and coffee table were covered as he chased her around the room. She was a quick little thing, and she managed to hold her own, darting forward to dab him with her brush before leaping behind a chair or dancing just out of reach. She was the first to call a ceasefire by collapsing on the couch and dropping her brush on the floor. He joined her and they sat there, flushed and streaked with blue paint, still nudging each other occasionally and snickering.

“God, the blue is so much better,” Belle sighed when she’d caught her breath.

“Aye. Matches your eyes, too.”

Well, hell. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. She didn’t seem to find his remark strange, or at least she didn’t say anything if she did. “Once I get some nice furniture and pull the carpet up it’ll really feel like home.”

“Will it?” Hamish turned to look at her. “You’re settled for good, then?”

“Yep. You’re all stuck with me. Before you know it you’ll be sick of the sight of me.”

“Ah, no way. More like you’ll get sick ay us.”

“Impossible.” Belle turned so that she was sitting with her back to the arm of the couch and facing him. “You don’t know...you don’t have any idea how much Lochdubh means to me. What it’s been like to be accepted somewhere, to have people who like me for who I am. That whole weird fairy business aside,” she added as an afterthought. He smiled, but he knew it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Belle narrowed her gaze at him. “You don’t believe me?”

“Aye, I do, but…” he shrugged and looked at the floor, “brilliant young women don’t tend tae stick around verra long.”

“Isobel.”

His eyes snapped up at that. “How do you…”

“Esme mentioned her. Seemed to think I’d know what she was talking about.”

“Aye, Isobel.” He sighed. He might as well get this particular painful confession out of the way. “She’d lived here all her life, but she got too big for the place. I don’t blame her,” he said hastily. “She was brilliant and talented and had the chance tae really make a mark, y’know? And anyway we never...I mean, I never…”

Belle was staring at him as if he were revealing a great secret of the universe.

“She loved me,” he said at last. “I loved her too, but I never said ...and then she was gone and never came back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was my own fault. And there were other...I mean, when I say I’m no priest, I mean I’m as far from a priest as it’s possible to be.”

They were quiet for a little while. After a few minutes of silence Belle put her hand on his. “You don’t have to tell me. I mean,” she amended, “I’d like it if you felt comfortable enough to tell me one day, but it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“Some other time,” he said gratefully.

She pulled her hand back into her lap and studied it, a thoughtful frown on her face. “Yeah.”

“I’d best be gettin’ back.” Hamish tore his eyes from her face and rose. “Jock’ll worry.”

“Give him a pat from me and tell John I said hello.” She walked with him to the door and opened it, her smile soft and sweet in the evening light.

“‘Course. G’night, Belle.”

She worked her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. She reached forward and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Hamish.”

Next Time: Belle runs into an old friend

[benwvatt]

interrupted

This is for @quantum-oddity because she’s a huge reason I even got into Hamilton and I hope she sees this and it can cheer her up in some way! Also, thanks to my wonderful beta @beliza-fryler for proofreading and finding mutual love in OUAT/Enchanted/Hamilton with me ((:

Fandom: Hamilton

Characters: Alexander Hamilton, Eliza Schuyler, Washington, Adams, Jefferson

Rating: PG-13??

Genre: Angst, then fluff

Warnings: Fighting in a relationship, mention of periods

Word count: 2.7k

As the age-old grandfather clock in Washington’s oversized office ticked hopelessly, Hamilton fidgeted more in his seat. The meeting had been estimated to be one of the longest ones of Washington’s term, encompassing both the cabinet and any invited guests involved in the political world, but it had only been forty-five minutes and Alexander was already a little stir-crazy.

The founding fathers had been called into a meeting in order to discuss possible future American presidents, after Martha had suggested the idea with a twinkle in her eye. Everyone knew she missed Washington while American leadership took a toll on his health. Some nights Washington left the office only a few minutes before Hamilton did, walking into the parking lot and barely retaining his honorable composure while he got into the car.

While at the meeting, Washington retained a commanding presence at the head of the table, watching like a hawk as Adams and Jefferson debated loudly and without restraint. Hamilton felt uncomfortable not speaking up when so many of his colleagues were, especially when Jefferson could usually elicit a brash response from Hamilton just by opening his mouth. Honestly speaking, Hamilton couldn’t envision himself as the President. He knew he wouldn’t fare well under that much pressure and judgment, with every failed move maximized and every success undermined.

Only a few minutes earlier, Adams had quietly announced he would run for president after Washington left, resulting in a loud scoff and a mutter from none other than Thomas Jefferson. Both Washington and Hamilton remained silent while Jefferson stayed seated and began to poke fun at Adams.

“As if you could get there. Why don’t you complete your vice-president checklist first?” Jefferson may not have hoped to run for president yet, but he could only laugh at the prospect of a man such as John Adams becoming a future American leader. “As of right now, I believe there’s only one thing on it. It reads ‘do something with my life’”.

Adams tried to stand up taller and reddened. Breathing deeply, he started talking before he stuttered over his words multiple times and his phone rang (quite loudly too, as the marimba ringtone resounded above the disputes of the meeting) just when he had begun. Awkwardly, Adams excused himself from the room, insisting that his wife Abigail was on the other end and she was despondent over news of their son and his misbehavior.

After Adams had left, Washington looked uncomfortably around the large office, seeing men filled with the craze of competition and a roomful of polarized opponents. “Well, with John out of the room, we may as well take a break. Please leave the room for fifteen minutes and return afterwards. I do hope you can behave better when you reenter, for the sake of yourselves if not for this nation,” he announced, in hopes of calming the room.

Hamilton breathed a sigh of relief as he clicked number one on his speed dial and called Eliza. She was the only person keeping him grounded in the political hurricane of confused shouts, allied teams, and complicated demands.

“Hello? Where are you?” Eliza sounded upset and forgotten behind the false tone she had adopted after being a Senator’s daughter for years.

“Betsey, it’s me.” Alex was delighted to hear her voice after a difficult day at the office.

“Of course it is.” Eliza’s voice on the other end of the line reflected a cold, physical distance standing between the Hamiltons. “Why aren’t you home?”

“Washington wanted –”

“What else does he want?” Eliza’s coldness was irregular, and Alex began to pace nervously in the hallway.

“Excuse me?” Alexander hoped she wasn’t serious.

“What hasn’t he taken from us already?” Eliza sounded empty, the only reason she was being so confrontational. On any other day, she would carefully approach the subject before asserting that President Washington and the job he provided for Alex was hurting the Hamiltons.

“Just let me finish,” Alexander snapped. He hated being interrupted; it meant he was being walked all over. “Washington wanted to discuss, between everyone, the possibility of any of us running for president.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of running,” Eliza was drained of her normal kindness today, and only the exhausted, unamused words were left.

“And why not?” Hamilton was tired, and he certainly didn’t need the one person he depended on to discourage him even further.

Truth be told, Hamilton knew he didn’t want to be president. He preferred having a job to support his family, not to tear him away from it. With that in mind, however, Hamilton knew that his demanding work as a treasury secretary had kept him awake and away from home for weeks now. He hit the home button, checking the calendar app while Eliza shouted discouragements against his possible presidential term. Alex knew he’d already heard every one of her complaints and – yep, right on schedule – it was her time of the month as well.

After checking the calendar, Hamilton tapped on the green, flashing bar to return to the call at the top of the screen and pressed his cell phone to his ear.

“And another thing – you don’t even listen when you are home! Sometimes I think you should just get your own place so we’d quit bothering you from your real work.”

Eliza meant the last sentence sarcastically, but Alexander could feel it jolt in his bones. He shivered without cause. Leave it to Eliza to remind him of long nights when he returned to a lonely apartment, wallpaper peeling and bills piling up.

With Mother dead, Father gone, and Alexander desperate to live for just one more morning, Hamilton knew those years well. Isolation became the only thing he could depend on for so long. When he had next to nothing, Hamilton had singled out his sole option between the human need to fight or flight. There was no running away when there was nothing to leave behind.

Alex shook the image out of his mind, picturing his home and family, but nearly hung up as Eliza’s voice angrily droned on. His ears burned in frustration and his knees locked in defense, ready to bear the burden of a long lecture. James Hamilton, his late father (or so he hoped), had taught his son all too well.

“Anyways, I’m sure Jefferson’s done arguing by now.” Eliza remained firm in her anger towards her husband as she jumped to a seemingly obvious conclusion.

“How did you –”

“He’s Jefferson.”

Although Alexander would have ordinarily found the remark funny and perhaps even endearing, today it only annoyed him. He hated it when she interrupted; it meant she thought she was right.

Alexander felt as if he had dealt with enough of his wife’s loud complaints. He’d called expecting a greeting and was met with discourse. It was time she heard an outburst from him. “I’d say goodbye, but you don’t deserve it,” he retorted, trying to hang up and missing the button pathetically.

“I’d say farewell, but I really hope you don’t.” Eliza’s voice was clipped and sarcastic as she ended the call. Silence replaced the shouts in Alexander’s head.

Hamilton, for the first time in years, felt speechless. It was as if his conversation with Eliza had stolen all of his good intentions and crafted phrases, twisting them into ugly surges of emotions he had bottled up for too long.

There were still four minutes left until Washington’s meeting began again, so Hamilton sat down outside the grand doorframe and fidgeted with his phone. He had nobody to turn to; all of his colleagues were here at the office, and his family would take Eliza’s side. Alexander even debated on whether or not to text Angelica, but the eldest Schuyler sister would likely usurp Eliza in anger and frustration.

Finally, he settled upon music. Alex hit play on a movie soundtrack written by Lin-Manuel Miranda (dubbed the king of writing in the Hamilton household, which Alexander disproved of). Without any earbuds, he lamely turned the volume down and held the phone close to his ear.

One song later, Hamilton walked into the meeting room and began to speak. Jefferson and Madison groaned preemptively, knowing how long Hamilton’s speeches could stretch. They had often begged him to apply the term ‘less is more’ into his writing, but Alexander always refused.

“Washington, sir, I do not plan on running for president. I am content in my current position as treasury secretary and I’d very much like to remove myself from this meeting. May I?”

The words sounded foolish coming out of his mouth. The argument with Eliza sapped his knowledge and replaced it with defensiveness. Hamilton couldn’t feel anything but the weight of last night, spent typing away in his office until 4 AM. Alexander spent two-and-a-half hours dozing off on his mousepad, while Eliza had spent the night alone. Nobody but his family could heal this hurt, a raw wound born from Alex’s own selfishness that Eliza had worsened.

Hamilton trudged into the parking lot, hardly awake and turned off to the wandering thoughts of what his coworkers would think. On the way home, he stopped at a pharmacy for pads, pain-relievers, and flowers. Alex hoped Eliza still liked daisies, because he couldn’t find any of her favorite sunflowers on the sterile store shelf. Pulling into the driveway, Alexander felt ashamed of himself. He swallowed a headache pill without any water to dull the pain.

Eliza was laid out on their bed, curled up in Alex’s old Kings College shirt and crying a little. She looked faded and more upset than she had been on the phone. Alexander felt as if he was seeing her up-close, more so than he had in the last three months. Her face was tired, with faint laugh lines crossing around her mouth, and Alexander knew she didn’t laugh as much nowadays.

Alex coughed and Eliza rushed over to greet him. He supposed it was a reflex, because she stopped abruptly before throwing her arms over him and giving him a kiss. Was it normal to miss someone who was right in front of you?

Eliza rolled her eyes, remembering why she was angry, and sat down at the edge of the bed. An old episode of Friends played on their television, and Eliza was clearly more focused on Ross and Rachel than she was on Alex.

“I’m sorry, and I’m a fool, and I’m here for you,” Alex murmured, knowing years of political writing didn’t help construct an adequate apology. He didn’t need to make any revisions or read over his work in his head. These were rough drafts of what he felt.

“I’ll bet you are,” Eliza said. Her words were defiant but her voice shook in the air.

“I brought you stuff,” Alexander offered.

Eliza turned to face him. “The great treasury secretary Alexander Hamilton uses the word ‘stuff’ in conversation with a mere pedestrian like Elizabeth Schuyler? He must be dumbing himself down for her.”

Alexander winced upon hearing her words, attacking the man he had worked so hard to become. She rarely used her full name unless something important was at stake. “Look, Betsey, I’m so sorry.”

The laugh track from the television halted as Eliza pressed the mute button, her hands trembling slightly. Turning her eyes to the ground, Eliza noticed a cheap plastic bag hanging from her husband’s thin fingers. “What for?”

Betsey only used this tactic when there was too much to apologize for all at once.

“I’m sorry for working late again. I know I haven’t been home very much, and the days I have come I’ve dropped into bed after you’re asleep and I’m gone by the time you wake up. It’s not fair to you, or to the kids, and it hurts everyone around me,” admitted Alexander, with a touch of exhaustion in every word.

He hated leaving his family like this, collateral damage of his own work ethic.

Eliza’s face softened and she walked closer to Alex. “Oh, I know.”

She motioned for him to sit down next to her on the flowery bedspread and rested her head on his shoulder. Alex smiled softly and rested his head upon hers, putting his arm over her and muttering. A natural writer, Alexander sometimes couldn’t help himself and dictated what he felt aloud.

“She is forgiving, erasing, loving, holding you close until your burst seams seal enough to keep you together. She cares too much to lock you out, choosing to slip you a spare key under the welcome mat. She is the best of wives, the best of women, the best of everything I know.”

Alexander spoke sparingly, not needing pages and pages to express how he felt toward his wife, but it was enough. Eliza traced his cheek with her finger and turned to him, throwing her arms over his shoulders slowly.

“What stuff did you bring?” For the first time in hours, her grin graced the room.

Alex blushed and crossed his fingers. “Um, I assumed it was your monthly, because I checked the calendar app and everything, so I, uh, stopped at the pharmacy on the way home to get you stuff to help and I hope you like it all because they had all these different colored bags of pads, and they didn’t have sunflowers so I got daisies and I got the medication, I think, but with the changing medical world today, you never know.”

His tirade of a sentence rambled on and on, but Eliza waited until he was done and pressed a hug to his chest. She knew he hated being interrupted; it meant nobody was listening. Alexander’s chest heaved as he took a relieved breath.

“Okay, first of all, I am on my period.” Eliza was used to telling Alexander, after being married for years and having told him even when they were dating. “It’s just that…well, mine came late this month.”

Alexander didn’t know how to react. He and Eliza had become distant anyways as a result of his work, so he just said he was sorry. Eliza’s eyes shone when she smiled back at her husband.

“I never really told you, but I was sick the week my period was supposed to come,” Eliza admitted, knowing that Alex tended to overreact whenever any of his family fell ill. The Hamiltons knew it went back to his mother’s yellow fever, and usually dealt with illness on their own.

“And?” For once, Alexander didn’t know how to connect the dots.

“Well, I was throwing up and my period was late, so I just jumped to conclusions.” After having a few children, Eliza was used to the warning signs. “So when my period did come yesterday, I was kind of disappointed. I know we already have a few kids, but I was just…hopeful. And I realized that I was ready for more kids while you’re still running around, yelling at Jefferson and pulling all-nighters like you’re still in school.”

“You’re ready for more kids?” Alex’s voice resounded in the bedroom, surprised and unsure.

Eliza shifted uncomfortably on the bedspread, biting her lip. “Yes?”

“I’m with you.” Alexander may have been shocked by the news, but he was ready for change in his life. “’ll make time, I promise. I can come home earlier, and ignore Jefferson, and even write less.”

Eliza’s eyes softened as she smiled, her hand twisted nicely in his. “You’d really do that? What about Washington? And the presidency issue?”

“I never really wanted to be president anyways,” admitted Alex, grinning at his wife. He loved the easy contentedness that their talks inevitably came to. “Now, can we just stay here and watch?”

There was a time and place for everything, and the Hamiltons knew it. Alex liked the ring of laughter in their room that day, as the curtains fell over the dying light from the windows and Eliza fell asleep on him. Alexander said goodbye to empty parking lots and exhausting commutes home. He welcomed the satisfying days to come and breathed a sigh of relief. Betsey was all that he would ever need.