#okay I should chill in bed and actually be productive later because everything is becoming crack

[hydroglia]

Childe in Fontaine: I have done nothing wrong ever, in my life Me:

[zamoimagines]

There’s Your Trouble

Word Count: 3,529

Pairings: Billie Dean Howard x Reader, Sally McKenna x Reader 

Chapters: 1, 2

Summary: You and your girlfriend, Billie Dean Howard, are staying at the Cortez for the weekend but you meet a pretty ghost. 

A/N: Chapter two is finally here! Hope you guys enjoy :)

The rest of your night wasn’t what Billie had promised. You remember telling her how excited you were to spend time with her at a hotel because it meant you both could maybe have a little alone time. She was constantly working on her show, or traveling, or doing interviews, or signing autographs on the street. This was a chance for the two of you to actually spend some quality time together. 

How wrong that assumption was. The rest of the day was spent interviewing different residents who obviously didn’t want to be filmed, and some of them even looked as if they were the ghosts themselves. Billie was so focused on learning the history of the building and asking the owners about James Patrick March. She cared more about her crew than anything you had to say. Any time you would try to speak, someone would cut you off and Billie would completely ignore that you had said anything at all. You were an afterthought to say the least. It had been this way long before you’d arrived with her at the Hotel Cortez. This seemed to be a pattern that never ended. 

Night fell rather quickly. You didn’t realize that it was dark out until you glanced out one of the windows of your room. Billie was still going on about all that needed to be filmed before Devil’s Night to her worker bees. 

“Uh.. Billie?” you tried to interject. 

“I’m thinking we can get a couple shots of the front for dramatic effect? I talked to Liz as well, she said we could see the basement if we really wanted to.”

“Billie-”

“Oh! And what if we got a scene in front of that creepy empty pool?”

“Billie, can I please talk to you for a second?”

The blonde finally turned in your direction. She gave you a wild smile. 

“Yeah! Sorry, honey. What is it?”

“Are we gonna go to the bar and get some alone time? I figured tonight would be perfect since we just got here.”

“Of course!” she replied happily. The sound of that brightened your world. 

“I’ve just got to get a few shots first.” Your heart sank in your chest. 

“Oh… okay.”

“Honey, I promise we’ll go on a date when we get the footage we need.” Billie pressed a small kiss to your forehead. “Do you want to come with us? You could see all of the chilling content first hand!”

“I-I’m okay. I think I’m gonna wait here until you get back.” 

“Are you sure, baby?”

“Yeah, I gotta unpack anyway.”

“I’ll film as fast as I can. It won’t be too long, right guys?” Billie looked to her crew for reassurance, though all they did was glared coldly back at you. They barely knew you and couldn’t give less of a shit about your romantic endeavors. She stood up while grabbing her mic before leading everyone out of the room. 

“Why don’t we just go out tomorrow night?” you offered.

“It won’t be too late, Y/N, I promise-”

“I’m just tired. It’s no big deal, really.”

“Okay, then. I’ll try not to stay out too late. I’ll see you later, sweetheart!”

“Bye, Billie.”

Alone. Yet again. Your own girlfriend cared so much more about her damn TV show than about spending the evening with you. It stung quite a bit, though you wouldn’t dare to ever let her know. She worked hard to get where she was. You just wished she would care about more important things sometimes.  

Instead of wallowing, you figured you would change into something more comfortable. You changed out of your travel outfit and immediately ditched your bra before slipping on some shorts along with a big t-shirt over your head. A sigh of relief escaped you. Folding your old clothes, you began to unpack your bag and put your belongings into the drawers of the dresser. You switched on the tv just to have a little background noise as you finished putting everything away. The only thing left was your makeup bag and a small carrier full of hygienic products. Taking the last two bags, you sauntered into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed.

As you started to brush your teeth, your mind wandered aimlessly about Billie. You only agreed to come because she told you that she had so many things planned for you. Every business trip turned out to be all about your girlfriend and she’d always happened to just forget about every promise she made to you. This one was only proving to be the exact same. How could a damn TV show be more important than your own relationship? You didn’t understand her thought process whatsoever. 

You finished up before making your way back to the bed. Though, there was something off about the room. Something felt incredibly eerie but you couldn’t quite place what it was. Perhaps it was just your mind playing tricks on you. After all, you were spending your week in a haunted hotel, so it was probably normal to feel a little creeped out by your surroundings. 

Just as you sat down on the bed, you heard a soft humming sound. Your head quickly turned in the direction of the bathroom door. Was someone in your room? 

“My, my… You’re even prettier than I remember, Princess.” a familiar voice spoke. You nearly jumped out of your spot as you let out a gasp. 

There standing in front of the doorway was the woman you’d met from earlier. The one in the elevator. You thought you’d locked the door but perhaps you actually had forgotten to and it slipped your mind. She was still as gorgeous as ever, only now she was just dressed in a simple black nightgown. Her fingers were laced around two glasses and a bottle of some brown liquor was in her other hand. You noticed large rips in her fishnets as she made her way closer to you. 

“H-How long have you been standing there?”

She shrugged as she inhaled the lit cigarette hanging out of her mouth, “Just a minute or two. The walls are paper thin here, though, so I heard your little conversation with the girlfriend.” She paused to take a longer drag. As she exhaled smoke, she raised a brow.

“Saw her leave too. She seems a little… Prissy.” Sally added in a disgusted tone. 

“Billie isn’t prissy. She’s just well-rounded!”

“Keep telling yourself that.” She plopped down next to you on the mattress with a sly grin on her face, her cigarette draping smoke all around your body as she nestled in closer.

“Just because she’s high maintenance doesn’t mean that she’s a bad person.”

Sally handed you one of the glasses before popping open the bottle. Pouring some alcohol into your cup, she chuckled in disbelief. 

“I’m not sure I believe that. The bitch is more infatuated with her camera than her own girl.” 

Those words definitely stung. You stared blankly down at your drink as you tried hard not to think about it too much as water pricked your eyes. Sally poured her own glass then glanced back up at you. 

“Look, I’m not trying to be a debbie downer or anything. I just think it’s fucked up that she’d just leave you here.” 

“She’s… She’s just very professional. She takes a lot of pride in her work.” You tried to explain, “Besides, she said we could go on a better date tomorrow.”

She raised a brow. “A bit too professional, don’t you think? How could she pass up a night with a gorgeous girl like you?”

There was a thick silence that hung in the room.Your vision grew fuzzy as more tears welled up in your eyes, though you were quick to wipe them away to appear like you had everything together. “Oh, my poor baby girl.” Sally cooed as her index finger lifted your chin. You could see that her own eyes were watering but you weren’t entirely sure what for. She offered you a soft grin that caused the skin on your cheeks to flush; it had been so long since you’d received this sort of affection from anyone. “Why don’t we have a drink, hm?”

You looked down at the glass skeptically. Was this a trap or something? 

“I’m not sure I should-”

“Oh come on, you were gonna go to the bar earlier anyway. What’s one little glass going to do?” 

She was right. It wasn’t like you had anything better to do with your night. Rather than waiting for her to pour you a glass, you simply took the bottle from her and screwed off the cap. Your lips pressed against the mouth as you quickly took a huge swig. 

“Straight to it.” Sally chuckled as she grabbed the liquor back from you, “What a good girl you are.” 

Your whole body felt warm. So warm that you couldn’t notice that damned blush on your face was becoming more apparent. It was probably just the effects of the alcohol and not the fact that her remark had been incredibly smooth. 

Nearly two hours had passed in which you both kept passing the bottle back and forth. Each swig from the bottle made you significantly more inebriated as you both talked about everything under the sun. You told Sally about your life, and in return she told you more about herself. You’d learned that she used to be a musician, that she had been dealing with a drug addiction for decades, and that she lived here at the hotel. She even made you crack a smile or two. 

There was so much alcohol in your system now that you were completely relaxed. It was as if Sally took every problem you ever had and melted it away with simple conversation. You had to admit, no one had ever made you feel this way before. Not even your own girlfriend. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked, your words slightly slurred. 

“Only if I can ask you one in return.” Sally replied with a sly grin. 

“That sounds like a fair trade.” “Then go right ahead, gorgeous.”

You took a deep breath as you tried to summon the right words. It might’ve been stupid, but you had a sneaking suspicion that there was something paranormal about this woman. You could’ve sworn you felt something deep in your gut telling you that it was true. The worst that could possibly happen was that she’d think you were crazy. “I’ve noticed that you’re rather unique.” You gulped, “This might sound stupid to ask, but uh, are… a-are you a-” Before you could finish your sentence, she cut you off completely. “Are you asking if I’m a ghost?” Your brows furrowed as your eyes widened slightly out of shock. It was as if she had taken the words right out of your mouth. The blonde chuckled to herself when she saw your reaction, then inhaled more smoke from her sixth cig of the night. “Yeah. I’m a ghost. Been dead for fucking years now.” She paused briefly, a fire in her eyes now. “Does that scare you?” So it was confirmed. Sally wasn’t alive… If you were honest, you weren’t sure how you felt about that. You’d seen enough of Billie’s work to know all of the signs but you didn’t figure you’d be the one that would have a run in with the dead. Shaking your head, you could feel yourself growing dizzy from this new information. You weren’t about to act like a wuss in front of her now. “Not at all.” You muttered maybe a little too quickly. Sally raised a brow at your response. “Do you believe me?” You shrugged. “I mean, you practically walked through the wall when I wasn’t looking. And you took me for a spin in the elevator earlier, which was a little eerie.” “So is that a yes?” “Yes… I believe you.” Sally looked rather pleased with you as she took back the bottle. “Good… You’re not a skeptic.” She took a swig and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I fucking hate skeptics.”

You simply just nodded along as you listened to her. If you were honest with yourself, you were still on the fence as if you actually believed her or if it was the alcohol getting to your head. You had been overthinking the matter so much that you had barely missed the other women speaking directly to you. “Shit- Sorry. What did you say?” You asked. 

“I said it’s my turn.”

“For what?”

“To ask you a question.” A mischievous grin appeared on her pretty pale lips. 

You gulped. It was just a question, and surely what she had to say wasn’t too terrible. 

“R-Right. Go right ahead, ask away.” 

Sally paused for a moment to fully pivot her body in your direction. She leaned forward a bit before asking, 

“Why do you stay with a woman who doesn’t give you the time or day?”

A much more loaded question than you were expecting. Instead of responding, you simply took the bottle from her lap and took a very long swig to avoid saying anything whatsoever. The blonde chuckled to herself as she watched you chug the liquor down. “We had a deal, Princess.” She sang out. There had definitely been a deal, and you needed to hold up your end of the bargain. 

“Billie does care about me. I promise… She’s just really busy.” You set the bottle back down before continuing, “She’s been waiting for months to get coverage on this place. There’s a reason she’s so preoccupied.” 

“I’m sure that’s what it is.” Sally scoffed. “I don’t mind, though. I’m just very happy that you like blondes.” She gave you a wink as she ashed her cigarette into the glass bottle. 

You were at a loss for words. No matter what you said, your new acquaintance never believed a word that you said despite explaining yourself over and over again. In a way, you felt completely defeated. You were defending a cause with not a lot of evidence to back you up. Sally could tell you were getting upset, for she got even closer and let out a whine of sympathy. 

“Awe, don’t pout. Here, I’ll make a bet with you.” She began, “If this Billie chick comes in here tonight and fucks you when she sees you in this number, then I’ll keep my distance and respect your relationship. But if she goes straight to bed?” She paused for a moment to discard her cigarette completely, “You have to come by my room and let me show you how pretty you are.”

The immediate flush upon your cheeks was enough for Sally to chuckle darkly to herself. You were sure you had never blushed this hard in your life. You couldn’t remember how long it had been since someone had flirted with you like this, let alone your own girlfriend. 

“U-Uh- I’m not so sure about that-” You stammered. 

“Let me put it this way; When will you ever get to tell someone that you got to make a bet with a ghost?” 

She had a fair point. Surely the drinks weren’t helping you to make any logical decisions. Your head felt like it was spinning as the words fell out of your mouth,

 “Fine. Sure, why not.” You were sure that the blonde was just bluffing, what harm was one little bet going to do? 

But oh how you would regret ever saying a damn words. 

“Good.” The next moment, Sally’s face was only an inch away from your own and those deep brown eyes were staring directly into yours. 

“How about you let me give you a sneak peek?” She whispered. 

Your breath caught in your throat. Her stare put you into a trance, though you did your best to stay grounded. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Mm, it’s only a kiss.” Her fingers reached out and danced upon your shoulder, “Maybe two.”

Before you knew it, you were paralyzed under her touch. Your eyes shut tight as if to try and wake yourself from some sort of dream, but as you did so, something hot pressed to the side of your neck. Her soft lips brushed against your skin, your heart beginning to beat rapidly in your chest. Her hand traveled up to caress your cheek and her forehead rested upon yours as you slowly opened your eyes. There was no denying there was a heated passion building inside you. 

“Come on, Princess. Let me taste those pretty lips of yours.” Her voice was so dark and inviting. You couldn’t help but swoon into her touch. 

“Sally…” You tried to protest, but you were finding it hard to resist. Your vision grew hazy the moment she captured your mouth into a tender kiss. 

You felt as if you should’ve been beating yourself up for not stopping her, but you craved the amount of affection she was offering you. After the first, she kissed you again with much more confidence. Her tongue slid against your bottom lip as if to beg for entrance. Your mouth opened with ease as she eagerly deepened the contact between you both, slowly but full of lust. A low groan escaped her which in turn caused you to whimper against her. You could tell how bad she wanted you, but more importantly, you were starting to realize how badly you wanted Sally.

You pulled away briefly to catch your breath though you managed to stay close. The other woman let out a soft laugh before practically moaning, “I could eat you up.” She bit her lower lip as her gaze studied your mouth and back up to your eyes. 

“I can’t imagine what your pussy tastes like.”

“Sally- jesus.” You hissed.

Thankfully, she rose from where she had been sitting before picking up the bottle of liquor and the two glasses she had originally come in with. Her hip was cocked out to the side as she watched your every move. 

“You just wait,” She said as she pointed toward you, “You’re gonna lose.” 

“I will not!” You rebutted. 

“We’ll see about that.” 

You moved to protest her words, but in the blink of an eye, she had completely vanished. The room had seemed to change as well for everything seemed much darker than a moment ago. The window revealed a black sky full of stars. How much time had passed? 

The faint sound of clicking heels echoed down the corridor outside your door. Billie. 

At least she was finished filming so you could forget this night had ever happened. You made sure to freshen up your hair and get into a position that looked inviting for your girlfriend to walk into, for you were sure you wouldn’t lose your end of the bet. Billie loved you, and that was a fact. She wouldn’t deny the chance to spend a sensual evening with you. 

The door swung open. In the doorway was Billie Dean, her posture slightly slouched as she flashed a winning, yet sleepy smile to you. 

“Hey, Honey. How was your night?” She asked, her voice groggy as ever. 

“It was fine.” You replied immediately. Your head was still woozy from all of the alcohol. “I missed you, though.”

Billie plopped down on the opposite end of the bed as she kicked off her heels. She shimmied out of her skirt, then worked at the buttons of her blouse to reveal her silk slip. You did your best to appear sexy but it was proving to be difficult when she wasn’t even paying attention to you. 

“I missed you too. I’m so exhausted, we spent hours wandering this place and didn’t find a damn thing.”

“That’s too bad.” 

“Yeah. We’ll try again in the morning.” Once she was situated for bedtime, Billie got under the covers next to you. She leaned over to press a soft peck to your cheek before turning around to turn off the lamp beside her. 

“Goodnight.”

“Wait, don’t you want to spend some time together?”

“I’m sorry baby, I’m so tired. Why don’t we grab breakfast in the morning? I promise I’ll make it up to you after I’ve had plenty of sleep.” 

“But-”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

She turned completely away from you and didn’t notice a damn thing. Not what you were wearing, or what you looked like, or how she had made you feel so lonely. Instead of fighting her on the matter, you sighed sadly to yourself. 

“Goodnight, Billie.” 

You turned off your own lamp before curling up under the blankets and faced where Billie’s back had turned. Tears stung your eyes once again, though you managed to stay completely silent to try and drift to sleep. You were nearly asleep when you felt a familiar sensation upon your neck; hot breathing and a soft pair of lips. A warm kiss was placed upon you as you heard Sally’s voice faintly whisper in your ear,

“I win.”

[babysizedfics]

Back at it again with a couple more HC prompts, which imma just dump in one, and you can pick which ones you want. Puddles with the kiddos, family baking sessions when both are regressed, Ro wanting attention whilst Logan is reading, so climbing all over his book, how their reactions to new stuffies differ, regressed versus non-regressed birthdays.... Etc... 👍

okokokokok buckle up everyone

Puddles:

this is the only one where i have to be like .. i don't think so :0 see virgil can get very nervous when it rains because he's so anxious about 'is it gonna storm? will there be thunder? will we be hit by lightning? will there be a flood? what if one of us slips and hurts our head??' that he just cannot relax enough to be able to jump around in puddles because 'WHAT IF I SLIP IM GONNA DIE' and the wetness on his skin sets off the wrong sensory feelings so jumping in muddy puddles is a no for him (as much as he loves peppa pig)

and roman is a fussy little thing, he may not care as much for his appearance when he's small but i think he will still be conscious enough to notice if he gets wet hair and muddy clothes - plus i feel like roman's mood is quite tied to the weather, on dark days he tends to fee a little more gloomy, ao again not sure about this especially if he wouldn't have his baby brother there with him

Baking:

OH BOY so roman is a great cook okay? like chef level he has honed his skills so that he can make romantic meals for handsome princes, but baking? nu uh, too technical, he ain't got time for that. Patton is the baker of the house and makes cookies and cupcakes way too often for Logan's liking (but secretly he loves them of course, he's just concerned for everybody's teeths) but both CGs will cook dinner when the boys are little

When the boys are regressed they're not allowed much in the kitchen anymore. after roman tried to make breakfast in bed for his CGs and started a very small but very real fire he has lost some kitchen rights (ficlet coming to you at some point perhaps) and is not allowed in the kitchen without at least one CG. even if he can switch so quickly between headspaces, he ends up either 1) too stubborn to come out of little space, or 2) a kittle bit clumsy when he comes out of it

but to make up for roman being upset by this slight loss of independence (he is a big kid after all) patton and he do weekly baking sessions! and there's always a theme. most recently they had animal crossing themed cupcakes, a little mermaid themed jello (not technically baking but roman wanted to but little fish gummies in the jelly), and... the next one is a secret because i might put it in chapter 7 (: in fact chapter 7 will feature the first instance of this tradition!!

virgil has pyrophobia (fear of fire) and so is never keen to be in the kitchen while there's food preparation going on (but he was allowed to help with the under the sea jello!!) so roman and pattons baking sessions are an excuse for mama and baby bonding time! the tradition didn't start until after virgil's separation anxiety from patton had eased up a little so luckily there's barely any tears

mama baby bonding time consists of but is not limited to: sitting on mama's lap, doing puzzles together, (vee trying to suck on a puzzle piece and crying when he's told not to), mama reading baby books to vee, vee touching all the textures and flaps in the baby books, snuggles

Ro wanting attention while Lo is reading:

this is 1000% canon!! later in the series logan will often be at work in his room and have the boys with him because patton is busy with something or another. they realise they really do need to keep working for thomas' sake but manage to integrate the boys' littlespaces into it. Eg. logan dangling baby plastic keys from one hand to amuse girgil while he's typing with the other

but when it's quiet time, when patton is in virgil's room because the baby is having a nap and papa wants to watch over him, when roman hasn't been little because he's been working or simply not in the mood earlier that day, when logan is just chilling, just reading a stephen hawking book in the living room, when he's literally just vibing, roman can and will launch himself into logan's lap sending the book flying and logan isn't allowed to tell him off because 'I'm little now! i want attention now!! hi mom!!!!'

New stuffies:

AHHHHHHHHH this this this is so so cute!!

roman never used to care much for soft toys before okay? before he was ever a little sure he appreciated disney action figures (he used them to block out scenes he wrote for theatre productions and screenplays and fanfiction) sure he always had a soft spot for Mrs Fluffybottom his childhood toy, but she always just sat on a shelf, he never fet the need to cuddle her or play with her

but when he realises he's little, when he starts playing with vee, when he sees how much vee cares about his soft animals, when patton and logan buy him a present to welcome him to the littlespace family and it's a golden teddy bear (soon to be named Aladdin) with big brown beady eyes and a satin crimson bow around its neck? yeah big kids love stuffies too

and now whenever roman is gifted a new toy (soft or otherwise) he essentially gets the zoomies!!! his brain is going a million miles a minute with all the game possibilities and with the excitement of NEW PRESENT!!! and with the happiness that his caregivers thought about him and he's been a good enough boy to deserve gifts?? yeah he's so so so excited he canNOT stand still he runs around the house for a whole hour flinging his new toy around (yeah he's a bit rough with them and there's been more than one torn limp or loose eye but he doesn't care it just shows how much they're loved!)

Now virgil: this boy is very very very emotionally attached to his stuffies. when he was a "dark side" he couldn't have much soft stuff because it just went against everything the household stood for and he couldn't risk the others finding out about how not-scary he really was, but he allowed himself a single stuffed rabbit that was easy to hide and that he loved with all of his being. it was his security blanket and his one item that could offer him comfort in a oanic attack and his only posession that he felt was true to him and not true to the scary facade he put up to scare thomas and the "light sides" into listening to him

without spoiling anything, that bunny was left in that house when he moved to the "light sides"

and in his new home virgil started collecting soft toys whenever he needed comfort. everytime he felt unwanted, every time he had an anxiety attack, everytime there was a thunderstorm predicted for the next week he would get himself a new soft toy because that was the only way he knew to comfort himself. needless to say he's got a pretty big collection now. you might think he became desensitized to new toys because of how many times he had gotten himself a new one, and you might be partly right.

that is until for the first time ever he is given a stuffie by someone else... when logan buys him a soft toy in apology for accidentally revealing his regression to everyone ((yes i am writing this fic!))

it wasn't really logan's fault, virgil should have been more aware he should have been more careful he should have hidden it all better but the logical side was guilt-ridden nonetheless. virgil hadn't expected much to be honest, the sincere apology was enough for him

but when logan blushed and shyly opened a box and handed him a black cat stuffie? virgil had to fight very very hard not to outright sob on the spot. he simply took it, thanked logan shakily, and prayed that logan didn't point out the fact that tears were falling onto the fluff of his new stuffed friend Jiji

now whenever he gets a new toy it's different than before - it's not because he's upset and needs comfort, it happens less often now but it's more special, it could be for a holiday or as a way of saying he's been very sweet or just because patton simply couldn't resist this one because look at its cute lil eyes! but each and everytime he knows when he is handed a new toy by one of his family members it really means 'i love you'

and he buries his face in its softness - it used to be to hide his tears, but now he just can't help but squeeze it tight and close and let the feeling of love wash over him

Birthdays:

yknow that episode of steven universe where steven wears a regal cape and a golden crown? yeah that's roman whether he's little or not

seriously this kid is very much the 'it's my birthweek!' type

lots of singing, lots of 'but i'm the birthday boy!!' to try to get thtings he really shouldn't be getting (like a third cookie) (and yes patton caves every single time) (patton is eventually banned from making decisions on romans behalf during his "birthweek")

there's not much difference at all between little romans birthday and big romans birthday, he's just an excitable boy whether he's a kiddo or not - this may or may not make the caregivers question whether maybe he actually was a little before virgil's regression was revealed

(irrelevant but patton definitely makes the pun 'you're a little? a little what? finish your sentences silly billy!')

virgil hates his birthday. hates it.

too much attention, too many things that could go wrong, too much pressure on it being a good day. what if his anxiety is bad that day? what if he doesn't want everyone watching him open presents? what if he's genuinely terrified that people think walking towards him with a big grin, singing at him, and carrying a cakeful of literal fire is a somehow a fun activity??

when he first moved into the house he made it very clear that he does not have a birthday so don't even try to throw him a party

naturally roman and patton were devastated, but after a failed attempt at getting virgil to enjoy his birthday they obeyed logan's request that they not try to push the idea on virgil any further

but the first birthday after they become a little family, it's a bit different

they don't push it, not at first, but virgil does wake up to patton already in his room and cooing at him adoringly , immediately sending him into his regressed headspace

then he's given a new soft toy. that wasn't so bad

then roman let him choose what disney film they watched. that wasnt bad either

then logan cuddled him for an hour and they might have fallen asleep together not noticing the smell of vanilla coming from the kitchen

then there was a new paci, a new rattle, another new soft toy, and cake cut up into tiny squares so he could nibble on it with his fingers

there was no loud singing no big surprises no bright lights or fire or anything else that he hated about birthdays

there was only love and toys and comfort. so virgil really didn't mind birthdays much after that

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Cross Poison

(She appears briefly BUT read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

owo what’s this? another gift for @the10amongstthese3s?? yeh. I’ve lost all control hghhhfhghg it’s not even their birthday month yet but 🤟🤟 party hard

me: frantically google searches if luna is in fact moon in spanish (good news gang, it is)

also this is the third fic with a Pokemon move for a title. i am very ashamed of my lack of creativity

Word count: 6311

———————

“Catalina...Catalina...Catalina....”

Her eyelids were glued shut; no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t open them. Not that she cared- the lights would be too bright, anyway. She had felt like she was going blind the day before from just her nightlight.

“Oh no. She doesn’t look too good.”

“Stay out in the hall if it bothers you, Jane.”

“Will she be okay?”

“Yeah, I think. It’s just a little bug.”

A soft moan breached her chapped lips. The sound grated against her throat like talons of fire- she needed water so badly.

“Catalina? Can you hear me? It’s Anne.”

There’s a cool touch on her hot forehead. Despite herself, she leaned into it, desperate for the coldness.

“Anne, I don’t think she’s going to be waking up anytime soon. She’s out cold.”

“I felt her move.”

“Still. She’s not going to be performing today. She looks...not good.”

That had to be Kitty. Aragon knew not by the voice, which was muffled and far away, but the choice of words.

“Yeah. We should go get someone to take care of her.” There’s a rustling right beside her ear; acrylic nails tap on a phone screen.

“Who are you texting?”

“Joan.”

There was disbelieving sputtered laughter.

“Joan? Are you serious?”

“Yes! She’s close to Catalina and she has a ton of vacation days saved up. I know she’ll take off if I explain the situation.”

“Yeah, and the minute Aragon sneezes she’ll keel over and die.” Kitty snorted. “You know what’s wrong with her. She can barely talk to people without losing her mind.”

There’s nothing wrong with my girl! Aragon thought fiercely. She tried to get up to rain hellfire on Kitty for saying that, but all of her limbs were heavy and weighed her down like ten ton pieces of lead.

“She just has anxiety.” Anne said dismissively.

“Saying whatever she has is anxiety is an understatement. She worries about EVERYTHING.” Kitty said. “Like— I have anxiety, but I know how to pee in public.”

“And yet you faint at the sight of a hatchet. So don’t even start.”

“It’s—!!”

Anne barked something, but Aragon’s hearing was fading out. She moaned again and then she could feel her head flop to the side on what she’s pretty sure is a pillow. Blackness consumed her—but she doesn’t know the difference from everything else she’s been surrounded by.

—

Freezing water cascaded down Aragon’s face, snaking down her neck and seeping into all of her pores. She jolted awake, breathing harshly, and whipped around to the man trying to comfort her.

She should have known. This was why she always tried to take care of herself—because she KNEW Henry would try and slither back into her life. Long ago, she used to comfort herself with that thought, her husband crawling back to her after realizing all of her replacements were horrible and nobody would ever be able to top her, but now it filled her with nothing but sticky dread that fuels her nausea.

She doesn’t want to feel his hands brushing back her sweaty hair, his lips when he kisses her and tells her how she’s still beautiful, his body when he holds her when chills wrack through her. She wouldn’t let that happen again- not ever. So, even with an illness weighing her down, she gathered herself up to her full size and—

Wait a minute.

Her vision may have been edged with blackness and very blurry, but she knew Henry was not as thin as the person on the floor of her bedroom. And definitely didn’t have blonde hair. In fact, he didn’t even have hair at all.

“Joan?” She said—or tried to. Her voice was so raspy and weak that simply saying a name hurt. The water that had been running down her face cleared her nose for a moment, but her sinuses were already pressing back in. Even in her own ears, she could faintly hear how nasally and wobbly her words were.

“Y-yes?” The girl on the floor responded. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you! I-I was just trying to...” She glanced over at the bedside table and Aragon saw a bowl of water and a rag sitting on it.

Oh.

“I see,” Aragon blinked. “That makes more sense than...” She shook her head and pain ricochets through it.

“I’m sorry,” Joan said, looking down at the floor. “I—”

“Hush, love.” Aragon said. “It’s alright.”

She threw her legs over the edge of the bed, and that movement alone jarred her weak body horribly. She took in a shaky breath and put her head in her hands, massaging her pounding temples. She heard Joan scramble to her feet in front of her.

“C-Catalina?” She stammered nervously.

“I’m fine.” Argaon grit, and then her stomach churned audibly. She set a hand over it as Joan grimaced. “Actually- Can you hand me that rubbish bin?” She swallowed thickly. “And then give me some privacy?”

Joan’s eyes widened and she nodded frantically. She gave Aragon the trashcan and then walked out, hearing gagging and coughing a moment later.

—

Nerves were crawling and writhing in the pit of Joan’s gut like snakes. She could almost hear them hissing as they slid past each other, making her stomach roil. But she would not spill her guts, especially with Aragon being sick. She was supposed to be taking care of the queen—she couldn’t act like this!

And yet, her anxiety continued to rise. And it definitely didn’t help that there was flour everywhere.

Joan blamed it on the kitchen. It was, at least in part, responsible, being rather cramped because of the large island. One quick turn and smack! An arm-to-flour-bag collision sent the product flying to the floor, landing in a cloud of white powder.

And it was loud, too, making a rather distinct thump that likely resonated throughout the entire house.

And throughout the entire house meant—

The girl jumped from her position across the kitchen, dropping the measuring cups and spoons she had been carrying to squeak nervously. They clattered to the ground, much to her dismay, but she had to deal with it later. Right now, she had to face the door down the upstairs hallway creaking open.

Joan squeaked again and stumbled up the stairs towards Aragon’s room, tripping over her own feet and a pool of flour in the process. She attempted to urge the disoriented queen back into her room, idly brushing off the coating of flour that covered her entire being.

Aragon’s voice is rough and her accent mixes with the words horribly when she starts asking questions: “What happened? What fell? Are you alright?”

“Nothing! Nothing! It’s fine—everything’s fine so, please, um, go back to your room now! Get more rest, you’re still sick!” Joan yelled in response, voice faltering and increasing in pitch as she went.

“It’s only a slight fever, I’m fine. I don’t understand why you are so—”

Joan, not knowing what else to do, screamed. In surprise, Aragon responded with a sharp yelp. They were probably, most likely, definitely causing a disturbance by now. Joan would write five-page apology notes later.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Aragon asked, frantically now, her voice becoming a hoarse whisper due to illness.

“Um, I, um,” Joan felt her lungs seizing up in the way they usually did when she was about to have a panic attack, but she beat the feeling back. She couldn’t lose herself to her anxiety right now, especially with Aragon in much worse shape. “I-I’m dealing with it, d-don’t worry!”

“But what is it, that’s all I’m asking—”

“It is being dealt with!”

There was a brief pause, leaving the house in silence. Then, Aragon sighed, muttered a soft, resigned, “forget it, whatever it is, I don’t want to know,” and turned around to return to her room. Joan scampered back to the kitchen and braced herself against the sink, struggling to breathe for a moment.

She felt utterly pathetic. How could that simple interaction nearly spiral her into full blown panic? She had to get her head on straight!

After taking a few calming breaths like Aragon had taught her, she stepped back and then began cleaning up. She lost about half of the flour in the fall, much to her dismay, because it was a brand new bag. She made a mental note to pay the queens back for it, then moved on.

Once she finished cleaning up, she set everything she needed neatly on the counter. She glanced several times at the recipe she was going off of as she mixed the specific ingredients together, since she wanted this to be perfect. Aragon must have been feeling miserable- she HAD to make something good for her to hopefully cheer her up.

Several dirty dishes, incorrectly measured ingredients, and one incident where her long hair got caught in the mixer later, she has her treat tucked away in the oven to bake. She smiled proudly to herself, then moved onto cleaning up and making some soup on the stove-

-only to remember that she had no idea how to make soup. Even the recipes she looked up seemed way too complicated for her stupid fish brain. She worried over this for a long time before deciding to just make some porridge. Somehow, that is something she’s able to make.

Her mind whirled as she began taking out the necessary ingredients. The usual voices she heard in her head were, for once, not warbling over her, but rather Aragon.

Hot porridge. I’ll make hot porridge. She’ll like that.

Hot porridge will make her throat worse. It hurts right now. Cold porridge will cool it down and soothe it.

Cold porridge would chill her bones and make her fever worse. Hot porridge is softer on the stomach.

Hot porridge burns tongues.

Cold porridge—

“Aaagh, shut up!” Joan cried miserably, clamping her hands over her ears. It took her a moment to realize what she'd done and she looked around the kitchen bashfully, as if she thought someone had materialized nearby and watched her yell at herself.

“You’re fine, Joan,” She whispered. “You’re okay. You can do this. Just like you used to back then. It’s not that hard.” She paused. “Aaand you’re still talking to yourself. Good job.”

She shook her head and wracked her brain to remember what was needed. Water, milk, rice, seasoning. Easy.

And yet, it still took her three tries to make a simple pot of porridge. First she poured too much seasoning, then she burned herself on the stove and dropped the bowl she was holding, and finally, she somehow managed to turn the food into a gross goop that would only succeed in making Aragon even sicker. After finally getting it right, she sunk to the ground with a woeful noise, wallowing in her own shame.

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic- Her mind screamed. Can’t even make a simple meal? What an embarrassment.

She whimpered softly, feeling a panic attack rise in her chest, but she stamped it back down. She would not lose herself. She couldn’t.

Think about rain, She thought over and over again. Think about rain, think about rain, think about rain...

There was a crash of thunder- actual thunder. Joan jumped backwards, slamming her body up against the oven and staring with wide eyes as a downpour of rain suddenly came down against the glass back door. She scrambled for her phone, wondering if the queens did something to protect the glass from a storm, and then realized how stupid that was. She put her phone down as a blush blazed over her cheeks.

Stupid, Her thoughts hissed. Can’t you do anything right? Use some common sense.

She tried to think about rain again, but the peaceful drizzle she usually calmed herself with has turned into a raging storm within her head. Lightning slashed the mindscape as thunder rolled through her eardrums. Cracks appeared everywhere, jagged and fang-shaped when they split open like oozing wounds. She wondered if her cranium was being destroyed as the internal storm veered into a baby hurricane.

There’s a loud beep. It lanced through the tsunami and Joan’s eyes snapped open.

She’s on the floor, curled in a fetal position, clutching at her head. She rose slowly, feeling embarrassed.

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic- Her mind roared, but she did her best to ignore it as she took the cake out of the oven.

It’s an effort that takes a lot longer than it should, but when she finishes icing the cake, Joan has a brief moment of pride. She was satisfied with the result as she fawned over how pretty it was, even if it was thin and slightly deformed in shape, and the golden-orange frosting was gooey and haphazardly spread across the surface.

Joan cut a generous sized piece for Aragon, grabbed a fork and a plastic bag, and practically bounced up to Aragon’s room, the cake balanced precariously on the plate held behind her back. She was barely able to stop herself from chiming out loud when she saw the queen’s form upon entering.

Aragon was lying on her back, one hand resting over her stomach, the other drooped listlessly at her side. Her eyes were scrunched shut and her mouth was open slightly to breathe- her nose must be too stuffed to get air that way. Beads of sweat clustered together on her forehead. She doesn’t stir when Joan walks in.

“Catalina?” Joan called out softly. She stepped closer. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed vomit in the waste bin. She winced. “Catalina?”

Aragon’s body shuddered in a way that sent jolts of anxiety crackling through Joan’s entire being. She moaned softly, then her eyelids peeled back and she stared blankly up at the ceiling.

“Catalina?” Joan said again, this time much quieter. She edged towards the door slightly, expecting the queen to snap at her for waking her up. But instead, Aragon’s head rolled over the pillow to face her and she smiled weakly.

“Hello, little luna,” She croaked, her voice rough with illness. She sounded worse than she did earlier. “Were you baking?”

Joan blinked. “Ah… You…”

“Smelled it?” Aragon chuckled a little. “Barely,” She snuffled through her stuffy nose then made a very unqueenly face that caused a giggle to bubble up from Joan. “But it’s enough.”

She fell into silence as Joan sat on the edge of the bed, then slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. She winced as she did so, even letting out a soft gasp of pain, and one of her hands shot to her stomach. Joan nearly dropped the cake reaching for the trashcan, but Aragon stopped her with a dismissive wave of her other hand.

“I’m alright, dear,” She said. “Just some cramps.” She leaned back against the pile of pillows against her headboard, breathing out softly through her mouth.

Joan quickly regained herself from her flash of panic. She pulled the cake out from behind her back and presented it to Aragon, beaming.

“Look! I worked really hard on this! Maybe it’ll cheer you up!” Joan nearly glowed with satisfaction. Aragon gingerly took the plate from her.

“Ah,” Aragon said. “Thank you.” She stared down at the plate as if it were holding a human heart rather than a sweet treat.

Joan continued to give her a look, one of adoration and anticipation, and Aragon has the choice to either swallow down her hopeless devotion to her daughter figure or swallow down the cake in front of her on an upset stomach, risking further nausea...or worse. She cast an uneasy glance to the trash can, but Joan doesn’t notice it through her eyeball-scorchingly bright radiation of bliss and pride.

“I’m sick, you know.” Aragon stated. Joan nodded, about to respond when Aragon continues, “So I can’t… really eat this right now.”

The realization appeared to dawn on Joan rather painfully, and in seconds the girl has apologies spilling from her mouth like a waterfall. Aragon can’t even get a word in edgewise to stop the torrent of despair coming from Joan, who seemed to think that she’s ruined everything— “I’m so sorry, how rude of me, I should’ve known better, oh Catherine, I’m sorry—”

“Joan!”

Joan flinched away, nearly teetering off the bed. Hot shame poured down her throat and set her insides ablaze. At the same time, icy cold dread shoved its way in and the two conflicting emotions clamored for space inside of her until she felt like she was going to be sick.

“Joan.” Aragon said again, clearing her throat. She reached out and gently touched Joan’s cheek; her hand was shaking with exhausted tremors. “Think about rain, baby. You’ve got this.”

Joan closed her eyes. She imagined collapsing all her thoughts about nearly worsening Aragon’s sickness into dozens of raindrops and whisking them into a background storm. It works—for now. She opens her eyes again and Aragon is smiling at her, despite the tiredness and pain very obviously glinting in her eyes.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, PLEASE just let me sleep, Joan imagined her thoughts crying. You nearly poisoned me with your blasted cake! The least you can do is let me rest!

Joan put that into a raindrop, too, although it was a little harder to shove inside. The tone the internal voice spoke with sounded exactly like Aragon’s- what if she had said that out loud? What if she was upset with Joan? What if she wanted her to leave?

“Raindrops, baby,” Aragon murmured, caressing Joan’s cheek. Her shaking fingers press into the coolness of Joan’s skin, like she was hoping to lower her fever with the touch alone.

Raindrops, Joan repeated in her head, and she shoved the Aragon-mimicking thoughts into one of the shimmering droplets falling from her internal rainstorm.

“Good girl,” Aragon said breathily. Despite having to take a moment to breathe through a wave of dizziness and blink away the black spots that come with it, she’s still able to recognize the way Joan’s face would relax when she successfully blocks out her anxiety. “Good girl...”

Every worried thought suddenly exploded out of their raindrop, splattering icy water throughout Joan’s brain, but she could hardly care because Aragon is tipping over and she has to rush to catch her. Her hands grappling the queen’s forearms seemed to be enough to jar her awake, because her eyes snapped open and she sat up quickly.

“Catherine?” Joan said worriedly. “Are you okay? Can you hear me? Should I call someone? An ambulance?”

Lightning cracked in her internal rainstorm, illuminating a puddle upon the mindscape that she always tried very hard to keep covered. There were three, actually- one wreathed in thorny vines around the edges with brilliant emerald flowers sprouting from the snarls, one with pinkish-green snapdragons lurking around the perimeter, and one that has soft white petals floating upon the surface. As beautiful as they may have been, she dreaded having their contents bubble out of the pools—and that’s exactly what was happening with the third puddle.

Images flashed behind her eyelids- a sickroom, stained sheets, a fretting king and a writhing, gasping queen.

“I’m alright,” Aragon’s voice surfaced through the clamor of noise resonating through her skull. She seemed to be too busy recovering from her near-blackout to notice Joan’s rising anxiety.

“That’s good.” Joan said distantly. The sickroom again, blood oozing down a bedside, half of a placenta sprawled out of a dark red abyss of torn flesh and blood and inflamed vaginal tissue. “I’m...I’m glad.”

She turned stiffly to the edge of the bed, and at first she thought she was moving to vomit in the trash can, but then she reached for the plastic bag she brought in with her.

Oh yeah, She thought. How could I forget? Stupid.

“What’s that?” Aragon asked after clearing her throat again. Her voice was slimy with mucus, but she was still doing her best to hold herself like a regal queen.

“Oh, just some medicine.” Joan pulled out a bottle filled with some kind of dark pink liquid. Aragon squinted at it and curled her nose. “I went shopping before I came over.”

“What is it exactly?” Aragon asked.

“Something that will help you.” Joan informed. “I also got ginger shots, throat coat, Ibuprofen, Motrin, Mucinex-”

���Are you trying to overdose me or something?”

A blush lit up on Joan’s cheeks and Aragon chuckled lightly. She gently touched the girl’s hand; hers is still shaking.

“I’m joking, baby.”

Joan smiled thinly, then unscrewed the lid of the bottle she’s holding and filled the cap up with the thick liquid. She looked at it, smelled it once, and was glad she’s not the one about to drink it.

“That’s probably enough, right?” She looked at the queen.

It was a big lid. A little over the stated amount wouldn’t be that bad, right? The more Aragon takes the better it’ll work! Probably.

“You’re the caretaker.” Aragon said.

Joan inspected the medicine-filled cap for another moment before handing it to Aragon. The queen stared at it like it’s poison. Joan giggled softly.

“Just...take it like a shot!” Joan encouraged her.

“Bold words from someone who has never taken a shot before,” Aragon said, earning a ruffled look from Joan. She flashed a smile at the girl, then punched her nose shut, tipped her head back, and downed the liquid as fast as she could. Almost instantly, she made an ungodly sound similar to that of a cat coughing up a hairball. Joan dissolved into giggles.

“Oh Lord,” Aragon said bitterly. She snatched the water bottle sitting on her nightstand and took a big sip.

“Hang on, there’s more.” Joan said before Aragon could get too comfortable with feeling like she was done.

It probably wasn’t good to take all that medicine on an empty stomach, but Aragon still wasn’t up to eat much, even when Joan told her she also made some porridge. She just shook her head and laid back down after taking several pills and shots of foul-tasting liquids.

Upon peeling herself out of the room, Joan was met with a rush of worry and fear that nearly caused her to spill the trash can she told Aragon she was going to clean out for her. She gripped the edges tightly and trekked into the kitchen, trying not to succumb to her nervousness, but it was so hard with every possible bad situation shoving its way in. Soon, several endings to this sickness were laid out to her- the least alarming one was Aragon recovering, but being deaf for life due to her high fever, but the others were much, much worse: Aragon seizing in the bed, foaming at the mouth; Aragon being dead the next time she checks up on her; Aragon being brain dead because her fever fried her brain; Aragon spewing blood and vomit from her mouth because Joan accidentally overdosed her; the other queens looming over Joan, their faces twisted with hatred and disgust, while Maria and Cathy wail over Aragon’s horribly pale corpse in the background; Joan being shunned and hated and called a killer for the rest of her life.

Then, she blinked and they’re gone, disappearing into the mist of her internal rainstorm and she doesn’t even try to scramble after them. Even if she wanted to, it’s almost impossible for her to pull thoughts back out of the storm once they’ve drifted inside.

She takes to washing the dishes she dirtied from making the porridge, and it took a lot of time because she knew that Jane was sort of a neat freak and would kill her if she left a smudge of rice on one of her pots. Doing the chore eased her mind slightly, got her away from thinking about every worst-case scenario, but she can feel them lurking in the back of her head, waiting.

The storm outside the house hissed. The backyard was turning into a small lake, swelling and churning and eroding the ground into a stew of mud and weeds. Joan walked over to the back door and stared out at the pouring rain. Weather like this reminded her of reincarnation, which was rather strange because she was the only one who didn’t come back when it was raining.

Aragon and Anne had told her about it a few months after everyone was settled. The queens came back first, all on the same day, all during a terrible storm with “thunder so loud it could chip bones”, as Anne had stated, and they all met the same day at the chapel Jane was buried at. Soon after, they got the huge house in ways they still couldn’t really understand, and then, four months later, the ladies in waiting appeared, although they came back in two day intervals. Maria on Monday, Maggie on Wednesday, Bessie on Friday, and then Joan on Sunday. However, they said the storm cleared up the day of Joan’s reincarnation, making them think that nobody else would appear. But that night was one of the brightest they’ve ever seen, and she showed up in their backyard, underneath the glowing moon. Completely naked, too. That part always made Joan very flustered, but she liked the way Anne and Aragon would laugh when she would-

Aragon.

A sudden gush of adrenaline sent Joan careening up the stairs and to Aragon’s bedroom. She nearly kicked the door off its hinges, but she couldn’t care because Aragon-

-was perfectly safe in her bed?

Joan blinked. As much as she loved seeing that the queen was okay, she couldn’t understand the sight. Was she hallucinating? Why did she have such a bad gut feeling all of a sudden?

She waited by the door, thinking that maybe something might happen, but nothing did. Nothing bad, at least. Aragon stirred at one point and sneezed in her sleep, which nearly made Joan fling herself at her and give her CPR (as if that would help even if she WAS dying, anyway—she didn’t know how to give CPR correctly at all).

Her nerves were on fire. Alarm bells were ringing in her ears, screaming, “GO! GO! SHE’S DYING! HURRY! YOU HAVE TO HURRY OR SHE’LL DIE!”

Cleves had once asked her how she managed to be so anxious all the time, and, at the time, she didn’t have an answer. But now she did: she didn’t manage it. Being this nervous was exhausting. And she hated it, but she didn’t know how to turn her brain off or quiet her flurry of worried thoughts that poured through her brain every second of every day.

The pet cat, Tea Cake, strolled by and meowed at Joan. She swore even IT was judging her nervousness. She sighed and finally left the room, despite her brain crying, “NO! NO! GO BACK! SHE’LL DIE!”

She collapsed down onto the couch and put her head in her hands. When she glanced up, she saw that the time displayed on the TV cable box read: 12:04. It was a double show day today, so she probably had another good four or five hours before the queens got back. If she could just keep Aragon alive until they took over, then it wouldn’t be her fault if she died!

She squeezed her temples against her palms. How could she ever think like that? Besides, she would find a way to blame herself, anyway. Just like-

A whimper bubbled to Joan’s lips, which turned into a sob. Suddenly, there’s tears running down her cheeks and she doesn’t really know why, but she does know that she hates them and they make her persistent headache worse.

She cried alone on the couch for a while, at some point flopping over to bury herself against the back cushions in a fetal position. She was planning on just crying herself into a pathetic puddle, but then her phone rang and she had no choice but to pick it up. The caller idea said that it was Jane, and usually her heart would leap in joy to see that her queen was calling her, but, right now, simply seeing her name said spirals of bad, bad things coiling through her brain.

“Hello?” She said in her best not-having-an-anxiety-attack voice.

“Hey,” Jane replied coolly. She sounded nonchalant, but Joan has become good at detecting the annoyance that would edge her voice whenever she talked to her. Even on a phone call, the stinging irritation was bristled around her words like needle-sharp thorns. “I’m just calling to check up on Catalina. How is she?”

Ironically, it was the one afraid of illness doing this. Perhaps it’s to make up for her not being able to physically comfort her fellow queen.

“Okay,” Joan answered. She struggled to keep her voice steady, but she knew it was wobbling treacherously. “She’s- she’s, ah— she’s sleeping. Right now. S-she’s sleeping.”

“I see.” Jane said. Then, she paused. “Are you alright?”

A whirl of new thoughts filled Joan’s head: Jane cares, Jane doesn’t care, Jane is worried about her, Jane is going to tell the others about how pathetic she is and they’ll all laugh at her, Jane knows.

“I-I’m f-ine.” Her voice cracked horribly and fresh tears ran down her cheeks. She has the art of crying silently mastered, but she knows Jane can still hear her sharp breaths and hiccups and whimpers. The fact that the queen isn’t saying anything makes her feel even worse. Scenarios shove their way into her brain faster: Jane putting her on speaker so everyone in the theater could hear her break down, Jane hanging up on her so she doesn’t have to listen to her sniffle and weep like a baby, Jane laughing at her.

“Listen to me,” Jane spoke up. Her voice is firm and hard, but Joan swore she could hear softness seep through the thorns edging her words. “I’m the calmest voice you hear. Use me as your anchor. I’ll keep talking until you calm down.”

Joan was nearly startled into calming down. Was Jane...trying to comfort her?

“Remember that you are safe. Look around you.”

Joan sank to her knees on the hardwood floor. Her chest ached with the weight of her guilt and anguish, which are mixing together awfully inside of her. She whimpered softly.

“You’re okay. We’re okay. Catalina is okay. The cat is okay. Anna’s dogs are, regrettably, okay.”

“Wh-why regrettably?” Joan stammered, sniffling.

“Ah, so you are listening.” Jane said. Joan thinks she may be tipping her head. “Keep listening. I know you can do that, Joan. You’re a very smart girl.”

Jane thinks I’m smart, Joan thought dizzily. And then, those thoughts spiral downwards, That doesn’t make sense. Jane is dead. I know Jane is dead. I saw her— I was— I felt her blood.

Joan closed her eyes and remembered the way she tried to help Jane after she gave birth to Edward. She had tried so hard to stop the bleeding, but there was just too much blood and it wouldn’t stop coming out and the smell was so bad and everything was yelling and Jane wouldn’t stop screaming.

“-my voice.” Jane was saying, a little more frantic. “Don’t let yourself fall in.”

But it was too late. The petal-strewn puddle in Joan’s mindscape frothed over its own edges until every bad thing she tried so desperately to hide within its depths came pouring out: Nurses shoving through the sickroom, midwives clamoring in a panic, blood and birthing fluids and placenta and sweat and tears, a tiny baby soaked in blood- They all flooded her mind with full force.

“Joan? Joan?” Jane called loudly. “Joan, are you there? What’s going on?”

Joan doesn’t answer. She simply dropped her phone, curled into a ball on the floor, and cried.

An unknown amount of time passes. It’s nearly two o’clock when Joan looked up, though. Immediately, a headache crashed into her head like a sledgehammer. Sweat glided down her body, but it felt more like blood to her.

She had to check on Aragon, but she couldn’t bear to see the queen while she was sick. She was too afraid of possibly seeing her as a corpse, so she just half staggered, half crawled to the downstairs bathroom, stripped off her clothing, and stumbled into the shower to scrub off the feeling of blood coating every inch of her skin.

Leaving her to suffer, Her mind hissed. Good job.

———

“Alright, that’s it—”

Aragon had been laying in her bed for what felt like hours, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She threw her legs over the edge and hauled herself out, which nearly landed her face-first on the floor when she put pressure on her numb legs, but she managed to grapple onto the door frame and steady herself. After a moment of breathing, she’s able to start walking.

Joan isn’t anywhere in sight when she finally makes it down the staircase, but she can faintly hear Cleves’ shower running. She chuckled, wondering how her nervous little moon conjured up the courage to use someone else’s bathroom, but was proud of her nonetheless.

She poured herself a bowl of porridge and sat down at the couch to eat. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until that moment; it was good to eat, especially something so light and easy on her stomach.

Somewhere down the hallway, she hears the shower sputter to a halt. A few minutes later, Joan trudged out, dressed in the same bumblebee T-shirt and sweat pants as she was in earlier. Her hair is still soaked, though, and she had a distant look in her dull grey eyes.

“Hello, little luna,” Aragon cooed over at her. She didn’t know if it was her fever making her delirious or if the girl’s touch starved aura was rubbing off on her or even if it was from her dreams of being with her daughter again, but she’s been itching to hold Joan in her arms. “You took a shower, I see. I’m not THAT contagious, you know.” She winked with a laugh, but Joan doesn’t react. She didn’t even look up at her. Aragon frowned. “Joan?”

Aragon set her bowl of porridge down after one more bite and walked over to where Joan had stopped in the living room. She’s clenching fistfuls of her shirt so tightly her knuckles were turning white. Something was wrong.

“Joan,” Aragon gently touched her shoulder, but even that is enough to make her jolt back. “Hey, sweetie, it’s okay. It’s just me. It’s Catalina.”

Joan looked up at her with wide eyes and there’s something in her gaze that she’s seen in Maria’s before, but much, much worse.

“Joan,” Aragon took her hands. “Think about the rain, baby.”

Joan’s eyes shut tightly and a strangled sob escaped her lips. She shook her head, making a miserable keening noise that sent cracks through Aragon’s heart.

“Think of the mist and wind and distant thunder,” Aragon continued softly, stroking Joan’s knuckles with her thumbs. “The fog and lightning and rainbows.”

“I-I can’t-“ Joan gasped. She shook her head. “I can’t. Y-you— You’re—sick— not okay— just like—”

Suddenly, it dawns on Aragon.

“Oh, Joan,” She murmured. “Oh, baby.” She cupped the girl’s tear stained cheeks. “You’re worried that I may end up like Jane, don’t you?”

With a feeble whimper, Joan nodded and then sobbed again.

“My poor girl,” Aragon guided Joan over to the couch and pulled her into a tight hug. Joan clung to her instantly, burying her face into her chest and clearly not even caring if she may catch whatever the queen has. “You have a lot of pent up anxiety over that, huh?”

Another nod, this one much weaker. Joan’s entire body is now wracked with weeping. Aragon holds her tightly, afraid she may fall apart if she didn’t. She stroked her soaking wet hair and rocked her back and forth.

“It’s going to be okay, honey,” Aragon whispered. “I’m okay, I promise. I’m alright. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

Joan, surprisingly, doesn’t argue against that claim. With a frown, Aragon realized it’s probably because she doesn’t have the energy to.

Joan cried for a long time, and all Aragon could do was hold her and wait until she’s well enough to talk to. However, when the sobs do eventually die down, Joan was already far gone in unconsciousness. She looked peaceful, at least, with her head resting atop Aragon’s chest. The queen closed her own eyes, feeling her illness take control over her once again. She, too, fell asleep, but awoke some time later to someone standing over her. She jumped back, instinctively holding the girl in her arms tighter.

“Sorry,” Jane said. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” Aragon answered. She was surprised that Jane was standing so close to her.

Jane nodded. She glanced down at Joan and expression became something that Aragon couldn’t really discern. She pursed her lips.

“Is she okay?” She finally asked quietly.

Aragon blinked, then looked down at Joan. “She...went through some stuff earlier.” She said. “She was pretty freaked out. Had an anxiety attack. She’s been asleep since.”

The flat line set on Jane’s mouth turned into a frown. She extended a hand and gently touched Joan’s head, then pulled back.

“I see.” She whispered. So many emotions were flashing in her eyes. “Well.” She turned away. “Take care of her. Oh— and yourself.”

Aragon watched her walk to the staircase and disappear upstairs, then looked down at Joan in her arms. She pulled the girl closer.

“Will do,” She said, long after Jane was gone.

[numba99]

Fatal Attraction - Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary:When a mysterious man shows up at your job, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to him - and him to you. But behind the beautiful face is the dark lifestyle of a man who has made his wealth through becoming the most powerful drug dealer in the city. Word count: 4k whew my longest work ever I think (there are probably some typos towards the end forgive me!!!)

Song: I wanna be yours // Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: blood, stitches (please ignore if its not medically accurate I tried y’all), smut

Your eyes fluttered open as warm morning sunlight entered the room. With each slow blink, details from last night came back to you. For a few moments you were certain it wasn’t all just a dream, but the bruises on your knuckles told you it was very real.

You looked down at yourself, you were in the pajamas you had packed, but you had no memory of putting them on. You peeked inside your shirt, seeing your bra was still on. Mika must have got you into your pjs because you would have never left your bra on to sleep, no matter how exhausted you were. You thought it was sweet, though, he could have been a creep and stolen a look at you while you were passed out, but he didn’t. He really was a criminal with morals.

Speaking of your favorite criminal, you rolled over, happy to find him still in bed with you. He was closer to the other edge of the bed, which in a king-sized bed felt like a mile away. His back was to you, allowing you to sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around him.

“Morning,” he mumbled softly. His eyes were still closed, but he smiled when you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Morning,” you whispered, cuddled against him. He was so warm and solid, curing the little chill you always seemed to feel in the morning, no matter the temperature outside. You couldn’t imagine anything that would be worth leaving this bed for.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Mika said, as if he could read your thoughts. He turned towards you, his eyes somehow even more beautiful with a hint of sleepiness in them.

“Who says we can’t?” you asked with a playful grin.

Mika chuckled, “Just about everyone who buys my product.” You thought it was interesting the way he spoke about what he did. It was all very professional, like he was working in a legitimate business. You didn’t mean that in a way to belittle what he did, clearly he did well for himself and you really didn’t have a problem with it. You wondered, though, if it was a show for you, like he thought you were more comfortable hearing “product” rather “drugs.” 

“Can they wait five more minutes?” you asked, not ready to leave this little slice of heaven just yet.

“Of course they can,” Mike replied, kissing your forehead.

“I have to say,” you began, absentmindedly running your finger over his arm, “I was a bit surprised about last night.”

“I’m glad I didn’t freak you out too much with Thomas. I was nervous you’d flip out on me,�� Mika replied, watching how you touched him. He loved how delicately your hand moved along his toned forearm.

“No not that... well yeah I guess that surprised me too,” you laughed lightly. That was an understatement, but not what you were thinking of. “I mean the window thing. Not exactly what I would expect from a guy that wants to take things slow.”

Mika shrugged, “It was just the way you handled yourself, I don’t know, it got to me I guess. You're not very easy to resist, y/n.”

You were sure his words made your cheeks turn a bright shade of pink. “Guess it’s good you live so far up, or else some people would have gotten a good show,” you joked.

“I’d never let anyone else see you like that,” Mika said, laughing, though there was an edge of seriousness in his voice. You guess Mika was not a man that liked to share.

You laid together for a little while longer, but hunger got the best of you both eventually. You meandered out to the kitchen, thinking you would just be having some cereal or something. You should have known by now that Mika was not just a cereal type of guy.

“A chef?” you asked, not sure why you were even shocked. He was in the kitchen, churning out a little breakfast spread for the two of you. 

“I thought you’d be hungry after last night,” Mika replied. Your stomach growled as if to agree with him. You loaded your play with pancakes, eggs, and some fruit for good measure before settling down on one of the stools at the kitchen island. 

“Do you mind if Chris joins us?” Mika asked. You shook your head, your mouth was too full to reply verbally. 

At first you were sure Chris didn’t like you, but you think he was just very protective of Mika, which you appreciated. You guessed he thought you either just wanted him for his money, or got yourself into something that was way above your head. The former couldn’t be further from the truth and the latter, well, maybe there was a hint of truth to that. You didn’t know exactly what this lifestyle would entail, but you were prepared to do whatever it takes to keep up. You weren’t about to become a liability to Mika. With the look of approval you caught from Chris last night after handling Thomas, you think he was finally starting to see that too.

Chris came in form the elevator a few moments later, greeting you with a reserved smile, but a smile nonetheless. That was progress in your book. “We still on for tonight?” he asked as he filled his plate with eggs.

“Yeah, I’ve texted the guys to be ready at our normal spot at midnight,” Mika replied.

“What’s tonight?” you asked, not following the conversation.

“We’ve got a shipment coming in,” Mika explained, “Nothing big, really. It’s more of a decoy if anything. Dimitri’s trying to figure out where we import from so he can hijack the big one we having coming in soon.”

“Can I come?” The both shook their heads immediately.

“This isn’t like last night,” Mika replied slowly. You could tell he was trying to choose his words carefully. “Last night was secure. These things are... harder to plan for. Things can... go south fast. I don’t want you in the middle of that.” No matter how heavily he sugarcoated it, you knew he was saying there was chance he could get seriously hurt tonight, or worse. 

“You could die,” you heard yourself say. You didn’t want to sound scared or like you couldn’t handle this. Mika didn’t need another thing to worry about, and a small part of you was scared that if he thought this was going to freak you out too much he’d break things off.

“Please don’t worry, y/n,” Mika insisted, “I’ve done these countless times and I’m still here. Hell, this one is probably the safest one we’ve done in a while because we are anticipating Dimitri watching. We’ll be ready for him and any of the shit he pulls.”

Chris slung his arm around Mika’s shoulder and added, “I’d never let anything happen to Mika, I promise.” You gave them your bravest smile. It did make you feel better to hear that, but still you couldn’t complete ignore the nerves in your stomach.

“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”

“Isn't tonight your normal night to work a shift at the club?” Mika asked. You wondered if he planned it that way. He was right though, you were supposed to work tonight. You had almost completely forgotten about Rick’s shitty club; it felt like a lifetime ago.

“Ugh, yeah a do,” you groaned, “That place fucking sucks.” 

“Do you wanna quit?” Mika asked.

“I would love too.”

“So do it,” Mika replied casually, “You don’t need to work, I’ve got you covered.”

“Mika, I can’t, I don’t wanna mooch of you. It’s not fair,” you replied.

“You're not mooching, I want to do it,” Mika countered, “But if you want to work, I definitely support it. I’ll help you find a different job even. I just... I don’t really like the way other men look at you when you dance if I’m honest.” Yeah, he definitely didn’t like to share. You thought it was hot, though, how he spoke with such seriousness.

“Okay deal,” you replied, “I’ll work my final shift tonight and then look for something new. God it will be so nice to be able to tell off Rick once and for all.”

Chris let out a laugh, “Kinda wish I could see that.” You smiled, glad that he really seemed to be warming up to you.

“So I gotta ask,” you shifted the topic, “How did you to meet?” Mika and Chris exchanged a glance as if sharing a silent exchange of who wants to tell the story this time?

Apparently it was Chris’s turn. “Guess it’s not so crazy. I used to live with my family up in Massachusetts, but we didn’t get along well I guess you could say. My parents put a lot of pressure on me to excel in everything. They even wanted me to be a pro hockey player, I mean can you imagine?” Chris and Mika chucked before Chris continued, “Anyways, when I told them that isn’t what I wanted they basically kicked me out and cut me off. I moved to New York and started selling to get by. And that’s when I met Mika.”

“My dad used to have me scout guys,” Mika picked up the story, “Trying to figure out who we could recruit to work for us. I just clicked with Chris unlike I have with anyone else. He's one of the few people I trust completely.” Chris smiled bashfully at Mika’s words. You could tell they meant a lot to each other and you were happy Mika had such a great friend.

“I’m glad you have each other,” you replied. Specifically glad that Mika had Chris. It would make you nervous (well more nervous than you already are) for Mika to be out doing this without someone to have his back. Especially someone like Chris who, the more time you spent, with the more you were convinced he could wrestle a grizzly bear.

The rest of the day was pretty quiet. Mika was extremely calm for someone about to go out and break the law while being watched by some lunatic mobster. You spent much of your time laid beside him, his hand lazily tracing lines over your body as he made phone calls to the other guys finalizing the details. You wished you could get in his head and see if he actually had any fear, or if he was just being brave so you wouldn’t freak out.

Eventually, it came time for you both to go to your respective jobs. Hopefully it would only be your final time doing it. “Hey, don’t look so scared,” Mika said softly, tucking his finger under your chin and pushing it up so you had to look at him. “Everything gonna be okay, I promise. By the time you’re done with your shift at the club I’ll be home. You won't even have time to miss me.”

You couldn’t help but smile softly at the way he spoke to you. It filled you with such a sweet warmth and comfort. “I’ll be racing you back,” you teased, trying to show him you weren’t as nervous as you truly were.

“I know you will be,” Mika smirked, “So on the off chance you beat me to it, or if you need anything at all while I’m out, Lias is gonna be. We always have one person stay back in case- just for precaution. If you need anything call him.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around him tightly. Mika gave you a peck on the lips and you returned it, which ended up in full blown making out in his living room. 

“Jesus there are plenty rooms in this apartment you guys need to find one,” a voice quipped. Lias had let himself in. You and Mika both rolled your eyes and laughed. “Chris and the guys are waiting for you in the car downstairs.”

“Thanks Lias. Make sure you keep your phone on you if we need anything,” Mika turned to you and kissed your forehead before saying, “I’ll see you soon.” You gave your bravest smile as a goodbye and watched him disappear into the elevator. You wanted to go out with him so you could spend as much time with him as possible, but Mika was concerned about being seen with you. As far as he knew, Dimitri didn't know where he lived, but he still didn’t wanna risk it if he was watching.

So after ten minutes passed, you set off to the club one last time. Despite your nerves there was a go giddy excitement coursing through your veins. There were so many times you fantasized about telling Rick off and now you were finally going to be able to do it.

That was all you thought about during your shift. Well that and Mika, but you were trying to not make yourself a nervous wreck and that was the best distraction. It definitely wasn’t your best night in terms of tips but you really couldn’t give less of a fuck. It wasn’t about the money. You were just there to fill the time. Each song brought you closer to giving Rick what he deserves. Each song brought you closer to Mika.

And finally it was time. You eagerly changed back into your street clothes, hugging the girls you worked with goodbye. They didn’t ask questions about why you were quitting. That was best part of this profession, the girls you worked with understood life could be... complicated. You were glad you didn’t have to come up with a lie.

“I’d like to talk to you, Rick,” you stated, shutting the door to his office behind you. It was less office and more closet he turned into a makeshift office to feed his sense of self importance.

Rick smiled a sleazy smile, “Finally gonna take me up on that offer to fu-”

“Oh would you shut the fuck up,” you snapped, stunning him into a brief silence.

“You can’t talk to me like that,” Rick fired back. He could be loud, but you were scared of him. He was coward and he wouldn’t lay a hand on you. Even if he did, you knew Mika would crush him in a second if he heard.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want. Because I quit,” you began, “You are never going to lay one of your disgusting fucking fingers on me again. Or any of these girls for that matter. None of them want to fuck you, they're just to scared to tell you off because you’re their gross, manipulative boss.”

“Why don’t you j-”

“I’m not fucking finished,” you cut him off, “If I hear you even so much as make one creepy comment towards any of these girls I promise you it will be the last thing you ever do. Got it?” You hadn’t realized you were getting closer to him as you spoke until you were right in his face. You never saw him look so afraid. It felt good.

“Got it,” he gulped.

“Great,” you flashed a mean-spirited smile, “Don’t even bother paying me for the shift tonight. I don’t need your money.” With that you left, feeling on top of the fucking world. You almost forgot about what Mika was out doing. Almost. 

Once the high of quitting wore off, you were practically running home. Had you not been so caught up in wanting to see Mika so badly, you may have thought more about how you were already referring to Mika’s place as “home” even though you haven’t even moved in. That didn’t matter right now, you just wanted to see his face.

You rushed into the apartment, nerves creeping in as you noted how quiet it was. You found Lias in the living room where you left him. Alone.

“They’re not back yet?” you asked, holding out hope Mika had slipped away to the bathroom.

“No, um, should be here soon,” Lias told you, though there was something off in his voice. He knew something he wasn’t telling you.

“Lias... did something happen?” Your heart was pounding your ears.

“It’s nothing really everything is-”

“Lias fucking tell me what happened,” you snapped. You couldn’t bare another moment in suspense. 

“There was a fight,” Lias relented, “Not Dimitri’s people, but they were attacked.” Before you could ask what he meant by that, the elevator doors lid open. Chris walked in with his arm around Mika, who was bleeding down his face from his forehead.

“Oh my god,” you gasped. You knew head wounds bled more than other wounds even if they weren’t that bad, but the amount of blood dripping down his face was startling. 

“It’s not as bad it looks,” Mika insisted. You rush over to him as Chris sat him down at on one of the stools in the kitchen.

“Seriously, you should see the other guy,” Chris added with a smirk, “Poor guy won’t be getting a date any time soon.” Mika and Chris had a laugh, as if Mika wasn’t still currently bleeding. You inspected the gash above his eyebrow, a little less than an inch long. You ran a finger over the skin around it and Mika winced.

“This is gonna need stitches,” you stated, getting a close a look as possible. It didn’t appear to go down to the bone, thank god.

“We can’t go to a hospital,” Mika told you, “Hospitals take names and ask questions.”

“Have you got a first aid kit?” you asked.

Chris nodded, “Should be a fully stocked one in the closet upstairs.”

“Grab it and bring it to the bathroom. Lias can you get some towels, please? Either dark ones or old ones. This will stain.” You held out your hand, which Mika took, but not without a quizzical look. You led him to the bathroom.

“Do you know how to do stitches?” Mika asked as you sat him down at the toilet. You turned on the tap, letting it run warm.

“I was studying to be a nurse before I left college,” you explained. By that time Lias had dropped off some black towels. You soaked one, gently removing the blood that had dripped down his neck.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Mika asked, eyeing you with wonderment. You were trying to focus on wiping the blood around to wound off without pulling it open more, but his eyes on you clouded your thoughts.

“Long division,” you joked, mostly for yourself. You needed to lighten the mood. Once you got enough of the blood off, you instructed Mika to press the towel against his head to prevent anymore from coming out. Just then, Chris brought in the first aid kit.

“Need any help in here?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” you replied, your eyes scanning the interior of kit. You were relieved that it had everything you needed. Chris said something you didn’t really catch as you pulled out the disinfectant. You poured it on to the gauze and handed it to Mika. “Put this over the cut. It’s gonna sting, but it’s gotta get clean.” 

Mika followed your instruction without question, though he did wince when the gauze touched his skin. “Jesus this hurt more than the actual cut.”

“Sorry,” you replied empathically. 

“Not your fault baby,” he replied, his free hand finding the back of your thigh and rubbing it lightly. You ignored how it made your stomach flip as you tried to thread the need. It took you three tries.

“Try to hold still,” you said quietly as you positioned yourself over him. Your hands were shaking slightly, it had been awhile since you had done this. After a deep breath you were able to proceed, and you were surprised how easily it came back to you. Mika was an amazing patient, only a few little twitches of a frown as the needle went through his skin and the sutures closed up the wound.

“All done,” you said, letting out the breath you didn’t realize you're holding. You took a step back to admire your work. You were surprised at how good they looked. 

Mika stood up and checked himself in the mirror. “Wow, you’re amazing, you know that right?” he marveled at you. It made your knees weak.

“You were the bravest patient I ever had,” you told him. He didn't need to know your only other patients included little kids at summer camps.

“Hope you don’t mind how they make me look,” Mika teased, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I think it suits you,” you replied. It was weirdly hot, in a way. “Plus, I’ve always loved a scar on a man.” You gently thumbed his forehead, just a few inches above the wound.

Mika’s eyes clouded over lightly. At first you couldn't quite place it, but when his lips found your neck you realized it was lust. “How can I repay you?” he asked in a tone that told you he already had an idea.

You slipped your hand under his jaw, making him look at you. You took a second to admire the look in his eyes, before whispering. “Like this.” Your lips were on his in an instant. You kissed each other hungrily. Your hands tangled through his hair while his found your ass. He gave you a slight squeeze and you jumped up, wrapping your legs around him. 

He was able to carry you effortlessly to his bedroom without ever losing contact with your lips. You fell into the clouds of his bed sheets gently, as Mika admired you from above. As much as his stare intoxicate you, you needed him. You reached up, pulling him on top of you.

Clothes feel off between kisses and gentle moans. Mika made it clear the other night that he was well-versed in foreplay activities, but right now you just wanted him. Nothing besides him inside you would satisfy the ache you felt between your legs.

Mika sensed this, reaching down to run his finger through you folds. He made sure you were wet enough for him and you were more than certain you were. Though when he removed the last of his clothes, there was a sliver of doubt in you. He was big, both long and thick.

“We’ll start slow,” Mika smirked, noting the look in your eye when you saw him. You didn’t have time to be embarrassed about being caught staring, he was already getting himself ready to push into you.

It didn't happen with you fistfuls of sheets and some gasps, but he managed to get himself all the way inside you. Mika was normally very composed, but you could see his willpower was crumbling as he felt your tightness around him.

Mika kept yo his word, moving slowing until you both adjusted to the feeling of the other. It didn’t take too long before he was able to move with more speed and strength. He felt unbelievably good inside you; you never felt so full in your life. His strokes were long but fast. It was the perfect mix of needy and passionate. He’d been thinking about this moment as long as you had.

Your orgasm approached surprisingly quickly. You clawed at Mika’s back, feeling the pleasure build to a near unbearable level.

“Fuck, Mika,” you gasped when you couldn’t hold on any longer. The sweet warm sensation of bliss filled you completely. You moaned into Mika’s neck as he kept going until he came along with you. The sounds he made were music to your ears.

Mika slowed up and let you both ride out the last few moments of your highs. He was panting lightly by the time he fell beside you on the bed. He had you in his arms within seconds.

“I guess neither of us understand the concept of slow,” you teased.

Mika chuckled, kissed the top of your head, “You get me. That’s why you’re my girl. Forever.”

[badchoicesposts]

Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 18

Series Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

In this AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar), Platonic!Drake x MC

DISCLAIMER: I’ve changed up the timeline of the social season a bit to fit my story better. I’ve based it off of some research I did on the British Social Season. Some of the dialogue was taken directly from Book 1 of The Royal Romance but was changed a bit to fit my fic.

Taglist: @flowerpowell, @ao719, @kingliam2019, @emceesynonymroll, @hopefulmoonobject, @dcbbw, @qammh-blog, @liamxs-world, @drakesensworld, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @lauradowning29, @texaskitten30, @senseofduties, @indiacater, @alexintheskyy, @jared2612

A/N: This is my first time ever posting a fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading!

Catch Up: Masterlist

It was freezing out. December was in full swing and as the snow fell softly outside, Ali was glad to be in the safety of Drake and Liam’s apartment, trapped on the couch within a blanket burrito of her own making. Winter was her favorite season and there was nothing she loved more than being cuddled up under warm blankets while there was a slight chill in the air of the apartment. Drake had been scarce recently, and Ali had suspicions that he was seeing someone even if he refused to confirm it. Liam, however, was due back home from work any second, and she was eagerly awaiting his return. 

As she was reaching for the remote to change the channel, the door opened and the man who was plaguing her thoughts walked in bundled up in a long, black, wool coat, and burgundy scarf in attempts to block out the cold, New York air. There was a slight sprinkling of snow covering his clothing, and as he saw Ali curled up on the couch, he was filled with both envy of her warmth and amusement at her ridiculous appearance. He quickly shrugged off his coat, pulled the blankets off of her and dropped down on top of her small frame. She jumped at the intrusion and hastily reached over his back to throw the blankets back over them.

“What are you doing?” she half-screamed, her body now shivering along with his. 

“I was cold,” he said with a chuckle, resting his head on her chest. 

Ali smiled down at him and relaxed as she felt the material of his suit jacket under her fingers. She loved the playful side of her boyfriend that not many got to see. However, not seconds later, she jumped again as Liam pushed her shirt up, gripping onto the warm skin of her sides with his cold hands.

“Your hands are freezing!” she said. 

She squirmed underneath him in attempts to get away from him, but the weight of his body on top of hers kept her firmly in place. 

“Stop touching me with your disgustingly cold fingers,” she whined, still trying to push him away.

“But, you’re so warm,” he spoke into the soft material of her shirt. 

By now his hands were beginning to warm up, and although she wanted to be petty and continue to complain about his actions, her heart softened as he closed his eyes and attempted to wrap his arms around her. Ali moved her own hands up from his back and began to run her fingers gently through Liam’s blond hair, causing his body to melt closer into her.

“You’re so lucky that I love you,” she teased.

“I know.”

~~~

Ali pulled her covers up to her chin and stared out the window in her room from her spot on the bed. The sun had risen a few hours ago, and she knew that she should be getting ready for the second day of the Apple Blossom Festival, but she couldn’t seem to find the courage to get out of bed. Last night had been good. It was fun, and she genuinely enjoyed herself. But, for some reason, she broke down in tears as soon as her head hit the pillow. She was exhausted and scared, and having to come home to an empty room after being surrounded by people all day made her feel isolated.

A loud knock startled her, but instead of answering the door, she sunk further into her pillows and pulled her blankets tighter around her body. The knocking persisted, and when she still didn’t respond, the door opened.

“Why are you still in bed?” Bertrand asked, as he and Maxwell walked into the room. 

Ali didn’t have a good answer for this. She didn’t know how to explain to them that she didn’t feel like she was strong enough to get out of bed. She didn’t know how to tell them that she felt like she was falling apart; that she knew someone was literally out to get her while she was pregnant with the future heir to the throne, and it was mentally exhausting. All she wanted in that moment was Liam. She wanted to run into his arms and have him tell her that everything was going to be okay, but she knew that once he found out about her pregnancy all hell would break loose. He couldn’t be strong for her right now. She needed to be strong for herself. 

“I’m getting up now,” she said instead, throwing the blankets off of her body.

“The best dressed lady today will be crowned Apple Queen. The title itself is mostly just for show, but it is important in terms of impressing the people and gaining their favor,” Bertrand said, urging her to move faster.

He shoved a garment bag into her hand that she hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“What’s this?” she asked, placing it down onto the bed so she could unzip it.

“I was able to procure a historically accurate rendition of a Cordonian peasant’s best gown from the country’s most prestigious stage production company,” he said.

Ali pulled the blue and white dress off of the hanger and went into the bathroom to change. Bertrand wore a satisfied smile on his face when she emerged. 

“You are guaranteed to become Apple Queen in this dress,” he said, as Ali fiddled with her hair.

“Are you ready?” Bertrand asked, giving her a once over, his eyes lingering on her face. 

She nodded in response, and the three of them made their way out to the orchard. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but make sure not to pout in front of the cameras,” Bertrand whispered, looking back down at her face again.

The fact that Bertrand was still being his usual, pushy self was reassuring. It made her feel normal on the outside, even when her mind was bustling with chaos.

The air was buzzing with excitement when they stepped into the orchard, but Ali couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder. The thought that someone was watching her was unsettling.

“Ready to show off your baking skills?” Hana asked, cheerfully.

Lizzie groaned from beside her. The dark-haired woman was wearing large sunglasses and was obviously hungover from drinking too much the previous night.

“Yeah, I am actually,” Ali said happily. 

If there was one thing she was happy about, it was that her love for baking was finally being put to use. Although, it didn’t slip her mind that it was kind of ridiculous to be baking in the middle of the orchard. 

“Good, because right now you need to focus on impressing the queen. Let everything else fall away and make House Beaumont proud,” Bertrand said from his spot next to her. 

He and Maxwell excused themselves, and Madeleine sidled up next to her.

“Lady Alison, it’s so good to see you. I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to join us in the festivities today,” she said in a sweet tone that Ali recognized as anything but nice. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. 

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. You’ve just been looking a little… sick lately,” the other woman commented with a smirk.

“Have I?” Ali asked, wondering if Madeleine actually knew something or if she was just trying to intimidate her again.

“Yes, and I noticed that you left the festival quite early yesterday evening. I have to admit I’m beginning to wonder if the pressure of the season is starting to get to you.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I feel just fine, Madeleine,” Ali said, ending the conversation. 

The pie baking competition was easy. She spent most of it taking orders from Olivia, but she felt no need to fight the duchess on this. Olivia seemed to know what she was doing and arguing would have only slowed the process down. It was the Apple Queen ceremony that had Ali completely flustered. She felt like she was suffocating while she stood with the other ladies as the crowd cheered them on. 

“Lady Alison will be this year’s Apple Queen,” Regina said, pulling Ali out of her thoughts. 

Ali wiped the surprised look off of her face and smiled at the crowd. 

“Wooooo! Go, Ali. Party like it 1299! All hail the Apple Queen from the Big Apple!” Maxwell yelled from somewhere in the crowd. 

Ali held back a laugh as she approached Regina for the “coronation”

“Queen Regina, it’s an honor. Thank you all for electing me to represent you as the Apple Queen,” she said, meeting Bertrand’s eyes through the group of people. “I’m happy to accept this esteemed position, and I will treat it with the utmost respect.”

He nodded proudly at her, a genuine smile on his face. She went through the rest of the ceremony with a new surge of confidence. She knew that if Bertrand, the most difficult person to impress, was proud of her, then she had done something right. 

“As your final honor, you are entitled to a kiss, my queen,” Liam said, approaching her and kneeling before her. 

Ali looked down at him, the adoration in his eyes evident, and her mood came crashing back down. Time seemed to stand still in that moment. The pride that she had been feeling just moments before had been replaced with a feeling of guilt for not telling him about the baby. The seriousness of their situation was once again brought to her attention and hearing him call her “my queen” brought up a negative emotion that she couldn’t quite place. It was a cross between longing and dread. Longing for the day he could officially call her that, but dread at the thought that everything would come crashing down and that day would never come. 

She remembered all of the good times they had shared together: the two of them wrapped up in each other’s arms in bed, Liam mocking her for being afraid of a nonexistent ghost, their first “I love you”. Then the bad began to come forward: her crying for him at the airport as he got on a plane back to Cordonia, every night she couldn’t sleep without him the first few months after he left, the press cornering them the morning after the bachelor party and Liam dismissing her. A look of confusion passed over his face at her troubled expression, but she quickly wiped it away and forced on a smile. 

“Prince Liam, I humbly accept your offer,” she said, 

Liam rose to his feet and kissed her cheek gently, his hand squeezing hers in both a comforting and questioning manner. The crowd began to disperse as the Apple Queen ceremony came to an end, and Regina approached her, a diplomatic smile on her face.

“It’s time I head back to Applewood Manor, but please feel free to enjoy the festival as the reigning Apple Queen. Past queens have been popular at the apple bobbing contest.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The queen walked away, and Ali visibly relaxed. 

“There’s our glorious Apple Queen,” Maxwell said happily, pushing past groups of people to get to her.

“I heard you out there. Thanks for cheering me on,” she said, punching his arm playfully.

“Well, somebody had to do it, but I’m actually here to tell you that Liam’s waiting for you in the manor’s conservatory. It’s across the estate.” 

“Thanks, Max. I’ll head over there now. Hey, can you meet me later? There’s something I need to talk to you about,” she said. 

She had made up her mind. Maxwell had been in her corner since day one, and she needed to tell him. He shot her a confused look, but nodded anyway. 

The conservatory was beautiful. As Ali entered it, the smell of flowers and plants overtook her senses, and she stopped to breath it in for a second. It had a calming effect on her. The sun shone through the entire area through a glass ceiling, and it gave her an odd sense of being both outside and inside at the same time. She took a moment to close her eyes and breathe before walking further into the conservatory. 

Liam was standing in front of a large fountain in the middle of the conservatory.

“Ali, thank you for meeting me,” he said, a soft smile on his face. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“I’m fine,” she said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it in hers.

“You didn’t look fine in the orchard,” he persisted in a low voice.

“Really, I’m okay. It was all just a bit overwhelming.”

“The ceremony?” 

Ali nodded in response but didn’t meet his eyes. Liam sighed softly, his concern clearly evident.

“I spoke to Drake,” Liam said, softly.

Ali’s head snapped up. Drake wouldn’t tell him about the baby. There was no way.

“He voiced a concern that the person who tipped off the press about your ‘relationship’ with him may try to hurt you again,” he said.

“And you agree with him?” she asked, quickly recovering. 

“I have learned to trust Drake’s instincts. If he believes something is wrong then I know he has reason to.” 

“I think it may have been Madeleine.” 

“Why do you think that?” Liam asked, shocked.

“She said some things earlier. Maybe she was just being passive aggressive, but they didn’t sit well with me,” she said.

Liam nodded and pursed his lips in concentration. 

“I’ll have someone look into it.”

Ali nodded and pointed in the direction of the door. She was trying to get out of their as quickly as possible, her discomfort and paranoia dictating her every move.

“We should probably head back,” she said, already turning to leave.

“Wait!” Liam said, causing her to turn back to him. “Are you sure everything’s okay. You still seem upset.” 

Ali sighed. She knew that then would have been the perfect moment to tell him, but as she looked up at him, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

“Can you hold me?” she whispered, finally breaking down and needing his arms around her. 

Liam looked down at her and pulled her glasses gently off of her face. He placed them into his jacket pocket before pulling her into his arms. Ali buried her face in his chest and willed all of her anxieties away. 

“What’s bothering you, my love?” Liam asked, his voice was gentle, soothing.

“I just… have a bad feeling,” she said, moving out of his arms and wiping away a stray tear. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing. If there’s something causing this feeling you know you could tell me, right?” he asked, placing his hands on her arms to keep her from turning away from him. 

“Of course, I know. There’s just… a lot going on,” she said, nervously fiddling with one of the buttons of his white shirt.

“You mean with the season?” he asked.

She nodded, and reached into his pocket to pull out her glasses. 

“We really need to get back out there. Madeleine already noticed that I left the festival early yesterday. I’m sure other people have too,” she said. 

Ali reached up and pulled Liam into a gentle kiss. It was slow and soft, and she tried to pour as much of her love into it as possible. 

“I love you,” she mumbled against his lips. 

“I love you too,” he said, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the conservatory. 

They parted ways when they made it back to the orchard, and Ali took Regina’s advice and found the apple bobbing contest. 

“Hey, are you going to participate?” Lizzie asked, her sunglasses now off as she chewed an apple. 

“Yeah, Regina said that it’s pretty popular with Apple Queens, so I figured I might as well give it a shot,” she said, with a smile. 

The crowd cheered enthusiastically as a little girl in a peach dress pulled her head from the bucket, a large apple clenched between her teeth. 

“Lady Alison, would you like to go next?” the woman in charge of the booth asked.

“Yes, I would love to,” Ali said, tying her hair back. 

She saw the press gather around them enthusiastically as she took off her glasses and handed them to Lizzie. Ali took a breath and picked out an apple before placing her head in the large basin. Her teeth closed around the Cordonian Ruby, and she once again fought back a gag as she raised her head, the press snapping pictures the entire time. 

“Oh, these really are terrible,” Ali mumbled to Lizzie under her breath as she took her glasses back. 

“I quite like them, actually. But, they’re definitely an acquired taste,” she responded as they linked arms and walked away from the booth. 

After she decided that she had spent enough time at the festival, Ali left the orchard and made a beeline for her room, ready to lie down. 

“You wanted to talk?” Maxwell asked, already waiting by her door for her. 

“We should talk in here,” Drake said, opening the door to his room and nodding for them to come in before she had a chance to respond. 

When Ali entered the room she was surprised to see both Bastien and Charlie waiting for them there. 

“What’s going on?” she asked confused. 

“Maxwell mentioned that you wanted to talk to him earlier, and I figured now would be a good time to tell you our plan,” Drake said. 

“Why am I here?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, what did you need to talk to me about?” Maxwell piped up. 

Ali was beginning to get overwhelmed. She had originally only planned on speaking to Maxwell, now she was standing in a room full of men, and she was being forced to talk about something intimate with them.

“Ali, why don’t you take a seat?” Bastien said, placing his hand on her elbow and leading her to a chair in the corner of the room. 

Ali took a seat and looked up to Drake for reassurance. He simply nodded at her, and she took a breath. 

“I’m pregnant.”

Maxwell and Charlie simultaneously dropped their jaws, and the former snapped his head back and forth between her and Drake.

“The two of you?” he asked, gesturing wildly between them. 

It was Ali’s turn to drop her jaw in shock. 

“No!” she said, grabbing the cushion that was behind her and throwing it at him. 

It hit him square in the face, and Drake let out an amused chuckle. 

“I’m sorry! You just looked over at him before you said it so I assumed,” Maxwell said, trying to defend himself. 

“Ew! No! I looked over at him because Drake was the only one that knew. Or at least, I thought he was.”

“Hey!” Drake said, offended, “I know we’re just friends, but I wouldn’t say ‘ew’!”

“Really? You want to have this conversation now?” Ali asked sarcastically. 

“I just think “ew” is a bit of an exaggeration,” Drake said stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ali rolled her eyes and was going to respond when Maxwell spoke up instead.

“Liam doesn’t know?” he asked. 

Ali looked down at her hands and picked at her fingernail. All of the energy she had from bickering with Drake now suddenly gone.

“Wait. What do you mean you thought Drake was the only one that knew?” Charlie asked. 

“I got a tip off that someone was trying to sell pictures to the press of Drake buying a pregnancy test, and Ali throwing up after the Regatta,” Bastien began. “We assumed that the person following them that day is the same one who tipped off the press after the Derby. We don’t know for sure that whoever’s doing this is dangerous, but we need to be extra cautious now that she’s carrying the future heir to the throne. Charlie, you’re Ali’s new guard. I need you to stay close to her at all times and look out for anything suspicious.”

“Yes, sir,” Charlie responded, serious again. 

“Ali, you need to tell Liam,” Bastien said softly, now turning to her. 

She could see the sympathetic look in his eyes as he spoke. His demeanor now calm and reassuring instead of authoritative like it was before. 

“I know,” she responded, nervously biting her lip again. 

“Why haven’t you told him yet?” Maxwell asked cautiously, afraid of setting her off again.

“Because I don’t know what’s going to happen when I do. Constantine already doesn’t want me to become queen. How do you think he’s going to react when he hears that I’m pregnant?” she said, gripping tightly onto the arm of the chair she was sitting in. 

She was getting increasingly agitated and uncomfortable at the situation she was currently in. The four men exchanged nervous looks, and this only served to irritate Ali even more.

“Don’t do that! If you have something to say then just say it!” she said angrily. 

“You’re right. We don’t know what’s going to happen when everyone finds out, and it most likely won’t be good,” Bastien said, approaching her and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “But, Liam needs to know. He can help you through this.”

Ali visibly deflated. 

“I know. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Look, none of us know what you’re going through, but we just want to help. Get some rest tonight. You can think about talking to him tomorrow,” Drake said, as everyone began walking to the door. 

Ali nodded and got up from her chair as well, wishing she could just curl up and sleep through the next nine months. 

[thegreatestshowfan]

I don't know what a chill is so here's more for @the-passenger-if

Hours of debating went on in the Newman household before Nash's mother finally allowed them to get their own apartment. She insisted they weren't fit to live alone due to their migraines, they argued they had enough of a routine someone would know if they hit their head. She argued they didn't know how to function on their own, they pointed out they had taken care of her when she was sick plenty of times. Eventually they came to an agreement.

Nash would move into the apartment complex two blocks away from home and would make sure to call or text every morning. Their mother worried, they knew that, and this seemed like a good compromise.

"This is the last of it," Livvy said as she sat another box down on the ground in Nash's new livingroom.

"Do you want help unpacking?" Mom asked, looking around at the apartment.

"Nah, Jonny and Roach are coming later to help unpack," they responded.

"Alright, well Bruno and I need to get going anyway," Fiama said.

"I'll walk you all down," Nash offered and scooped up Bruno.

They hadn't really thought they would like children, but they were suprised at how much they liked Bruno. As they walked downstairs he made sure to tell them to look out for the ghosts of old women who died here. He said he had already seen a few hiding in their closet and Nash made a mental note to check it out before going to sleep that night. Also to make sure the doors were locked.

Nash said goodbye to Mom and Livvy and gave them a hug. They gave Bruno a high-five and Fiama a hug as well then watched them all leave. It had been a long time since they had truly been alone, but it felt exhilarating in a way. Jonny and Roach would be over in a few hours, but in the meantime they could enjoy the solitude.

Back in their apartment they grabbed a couple boxes labeled bedroom and set to work. While they waited for their friends they could unpack their clothing and start putting together the furniture. They flicked on the radio and got to work.

Soon enough they found themself struggling with a screwdriver and a drawer of their nightstand. They grumbled and threw the screwdriver down. It was time to take a break and Jonny and Roach should be appearing soon. They pushed themself to their feet and turned the radio off. That's when they heard voices down the hall.

They froze.

They couldn't quite hear what was being said and inched closer to the door. One of the voices broke out in a laugh and the other groaned.

"Nash we're here!" Jonny's voice finally called a bit louder.

Nash relaxed at the sound of a familiar voice and headed into the living room. Roach had a grin on his face and Jonny's was red.

"What's going on?" they asked.

"Jonny wants to look at your underwear," Roach laughed.

"WHAT? NO! I NEVER-" Jonny began to protest.

Both Nash and Roach began cackling at his reaction. He huffed and grumbled about them ganging up on him. Nash just placed a gentle hand on his arm and smiled.

"Hey, I've got a nightstand in my room that's giving me trouble. Can you go take a look?" they asked.

"Sure," Jonny nodded.

"Oh inviting him to your bedroom already?" Roach laughed again.

Nash hit him upside the head and Jonny gave him one last glare. They pointed to a room down the hall and Jonny walked into it. Roach continued to giggle as he opened up a box of Nash's things. Rather than doing anything productive he just started going through it.

"If you don't help you don't get pizza," they warned, opening a box of dishes.

"Whatever," Roach rolled his eyes but began to help unpack.

They had managed to unpack most of Nash's belongings in the livingroom and kitchen before Jonny came back from the bedroom. He wrapped his arms around Nash and pressed a kiss to the top of their head. Roach made an overly exaggerated gagging noise.

"Pizza time?" he asked, blatantly ignoring Roach.

"Sure, hand me the phone Roach," they held their hands out as Roach tossed it across the room.

Nash ordered the pizza and in the meantime they set up the television set. Jonny flipped through their collection of movies. He groaned at most of them and made jokes about Nash's taste. Roach went through everything he discarded and insisted they watch it. Nash just placed little decorations here and there about the space until the pizza arrived. Eventually the group settled on Jurrasic Park two (Jonny nearly walked out after finding Nash had only the second film) and their pizzas arrived.

Almost halfway into the movie Nash started giggling, drawing both Roach's and Jonny's attention away from the screen.

"What?" Roach asked.

"Just realized something that's going to make Jonny real mad..." they smiled.

"What did you do?" he sighed and removed his arm from around them, already knowing he would be disappointed in what they were about to say.

"I've never even watched the first Jurrasic Park movie... Or the third for that matter," they said.

Just as suspected Jonny stood and made his way to the door. He shoved his shoes on silently as Roach and Nash cackled on the couch. He grumbled to himself, looking at them in disgust.

"I can't believe I'm dating you," he shook his head.

"Awww, baby c'mon..." Nash reached their hands out to him.

He stopped and let out a groan. He could see Roach's eyebrows raising as he kicked his shoes off again. Nash had him wrapped around their finger and Roach seeing this would cause endless teasing... But the way Nash smiled at him pulled him back to the couch and his arm back around them. He could already hear the teasing from Roach.

After pizza and a movie Roach was predictably gone. He claimed to have "something dire to attend to" but when asked what it was said it "wasn't important". Nash let him be, knowing he wouldn't be much help with the rest of the unpacking. At least Jonny would stay, and he seemed to have more of a grasp of what an apartment should look like than Roach ever would. Jonny tossed the empty pizza boxes and looked around at the scattered mess. Without any prompt he started working again.

"Hey Nash, where do you want this weird looking dog figurine?" he asked.

"That's an otter Jonny..."

"Okay, where do you want this weird looking otter figurine?"

"Next to the picture of us on the shelves," they laughed.

"Wait..." Jonny paused, "you actually kept that picture?"

"Well yeah," Nash looked up from folding the blankets next to the couch. "Its evidence of you smiling. I had to keep it."

Jonny shook his head and placed the figurine next to it. He smiled at the picture. It was from Nash's birthday the year prior, Livvy had snapped it while neither of them were paying attention but had gifted it to Nash a couple weeks later. It was a little blurry, but there was still a distinct smile that played on his lips as he looked at Nash who was busting in laughter. Roach had made some stupid joke and as always, they laughed at it. He wasn't sure how exactly he fell for someone with the same humor as Roach, but looking at the way they smiled in the picture reminded him exactly why he had fallen in the first place. It was always their smile that reminded him that the world wasn't always evil. Their smile was a breath of fresh air.

He sighed a bit and pulled it off the shelf. Nash looked up at him. Now stationed at the last box in the livingroom, they were surrounded by the small collection of books Mom had sent with them.

"How'd your sister manage to get this?" he asked.

"Well there's this thing called a camera-"

"Don't be a smart ass."

"Okay," Nash laughed. "I don't know how she got one as clear as that. I don't even remember what we're laughed at, but Livvy's kinda magic like that."

"Roach said something stupid as usual and you thought it was funny," he said. "I wasn't laughing at him though, I was smiling at you."

Nash tried to hide their blush by looking back down at the books around them. They knew Jonny had probably already seen the red on their face, but that didn't stop them from looking away. They weren't prepared for him to be sweet like this. He just chuckled and placed the picture back on the shelf before taking the organized books from Nash and putting them beside it.

Everything was finally done except...

"Nash you can't sleep on the floor did you seriously not get a bed frame?" Jonny asked shuffling through empty boxes.

"I've got a mattress what's the problem?" they asked.

Jonny stared at them for a moment, trying to decide if they were serious. He shook his head and grabbed the sheets to put on their matress.

"It gets messed up real easy without it, but it's your bed I guess," he shrugged.

"If you clean under it and let it air out that won't hurt it. Plus I didn't want to drag the whole bedframe over here," they said, pulling the sheets across the bed. "Mom's probably going to freak when she realizes I left it..."

Jonny chuckled, fluffing a few pillows and throwing them down as Nash smoothed out the comforter. They looked at their work and immediately crawled under the covers, pulling Jonny down onto the bed. He laughed but pulled the blankets over him and then Nash closer.

"You're all moved in now," he said.

"Yeah... Feels nice," they nodded.

"Why didn't you move out before now?" he asked.

"Migraines," they sighed, "I'd gone to a doctor who suggested that until they let up or I can easily predict them I shouldn't live on my own. I'd fallen one too many times after they hit suddenly and had to get some stitches because the coffee table is in a really bad place when you black out from pain."

"Jeez Newman," he shook his head. "Maybe your mom was right."

"No. No she wasn't because if it becomes a problem I can just babyproof everything and I won't hit my head," they explained.

"Nash if it 'becomes a problem' that means you'll be getting hurt," he pointed out.

It was normal for humans to want independence, but Nash wasn't human. They weren't sure why it mattered that they have their own place. They felt coddled back home. Knowing they could crush this world easily with their full power, but yet not being trusted to live alone drove them insane. Nobody took them seriously due to their fragile casket. If only they knew how powerful they were.

"I'm not getting into this with you," they shook their head and threw the blanket off of them.

"Woah, hey, Nash stop. I didn't mean to upset you," Jonny said and grabbed their arm.

"I'm not a kid Jonny," they snapped.

"I know-"

"Do you? Because it sure seems like everyone thinks I'm incapable of functioning without help. I'm not a kid, I can do things, I can function. Why can't anyone see that?" they pushed Jonny away and stood up.

Jonny stood as well and quickly walked over to where Nash was. He put a hand on either shoulder to stop them, then tilted their head to look at him.

"Hey, look at me... I know you're not a kid. I know you could probably fight off an entire army if you wanted to," he turned Nash's face again as they yanked it away. "You are amazing, I know that. You-"

Nash pushed him away again. They looked at him for a moment and shook their head.

"Don't patronize me. I thought you'd be happy that I finally got my own place or maybe actually be proud of me. If you really don't think that much of me then you can just leave," Nash spat.

"I'm not-"

"Jonny I'm not going to listen to you doubt me too."

"Nash, stop! I'm serious! Look at me! I'm not trying to patronize you, I said that because I worry about you. I don't want to get a call from your mom or Livvy saying you got hurt because you hit your head and I wasn't there-"

"Are you crying?"

"I-fuck... Yeah I'm crying. I just... I don't want you to get hurt... Are you crying now?"

"...shut up..."

"What?"

"Shut up and just... Just hold me for a while."

Jonny didn't hesitate to bring Nash closer to him. He could spend forever in this moment, but he didn't know how long Nash would stay like this before they got mad again. He took this moment to savor it, because he knew arguments often lead to break ups. This could be the last time he held Nash in his arms, and he couldn't leave without taking the memory with him. He loved them...

"I wasn't trying to say anything bad about you I promise," Jonny whispered after a while of silence.

"It just feels like sometimes nobody takes me seriously... I can do things. I HAVE done things, and yet when I try to move out nobody thinks I can do it," they shook their head.

"I'm sorry," Jonny mumbled and kissed their head.

"It's okay..." they said, taking a step back. "What time are your folks expecting you home?"

"Whenever. I can stay as long as you want... Or-or leave if you'd rather," he gulped.

"You can spend the night," Nash murmured.

"Are you sure you want me to?" Jonny asked.

"Look I'm not happy with you assuming I'm not capable of taking care of myself..."

"I know..."

"But I really want you here..."

Jonny smiled softly and kissed Nash's forehead. He lead them back to the mattress and wrapped them in his arms. He again tried to savor that moment, unsure of how much longer this would last. He had always been a second choice, if even a choice at all. He was certain Nash would soon realize a better path, but right now he was able to savor the moment.

Savor them.

[margridarnauds]

002 orleans, 001 peyronan, lets GO

001 | Peyronan

when I started shipping it if I did: Funnily, it went under my radar for YEARS, because I. Did not care about Lazare at ALL. Did not even L I K E him. And the 1789 fandom, as a whole, was VERY anti-Ronan. You could not say ANYTHING positive about Ronan at that time. Then, during a stream of Zuka 1789 in June 2017 (THREE YEARS. WHAT THE FUCK? HOW HAVE THREE YEARS PAST?), I was like “Oh? O H? O    H  ?” and so It began. I started off with the idea of creating a contained series of drabbles, highlighting the two of them over the course of the musical. The idea was that it would essentially be PWP, disconnected, plotless, researchless, no feelings involved, no softening of Lazare, and would probably end at Ronan’s death. But, as I began working the concepts further, I realized that wouldn’t work, and within a few months of beginning the project, I started to call it “The Abomination”, due to it warping far, far out of my control. These days, a LOT of what I’ve written ties back to those original ideas for The Abomination, and a lot of the concepts used in Between the Waves started there (Printing Press being one of them.) 

my thoughts: THE BOIS. THE B O I S. My favorite totally canon ship. The two of them really do balance one another out really well, they’re the classic fire and ice combo (though, underneath Lazare’s ice, there’s fire, and underneath Ronan’s fire, there’s ice.) Ronan’s character arc begins and ends with Lazare, and there’s SOMETHING about him going to Paris with this idea of “Okay, I’m going to kill the Comte, take back my lands, and dance on the ashes of the old world” and then meeting Lazare and being like “...okay, new plan: Save this fucking disaster from himself”. There’s something about his arc going from hatred to love. And could this be done with Olympe as well? Yes, it could be. But, for me, I like the full circle happening with Lazare, since he did start this. Both of them have a Hell of a lot to learn from one another, there’s going to be a lot of grappling when it comes to establishing equality, a lot of sniping back and forth, but I also do think, legitimately, they could make one another happy. (And, Hell, even if they didn’t, that doesn’t mean it can’t be a fun ride.) 

What makes me happy about them: The general idea that the Comte de Peyrol, a cold-hearted, professional guard dog who probably never really even THOUGHT of love as something he could have, could melt for this revolutionary, no matter HOW slightly, enough to risk everything for a relationship. That, despite everything else, Ronan could love him back. That, even if only for a few months, they got to be HAPPY with one another. 

What makes me sad about them: The ending. The things that were left unresolved. It’s doubly sad in, say, the PLP universe, where Lazare really DID love Ronan with his entire heart, but Ronan really died without KNOWING the extent that Lazare was invested. And that Lazare will have to live the rest of his life, HOWEVER long that will be, thinking of how he destroyed the one person who ever gave a damn about him outside of what he could do for them. 

things done in fanfic that annoys me: Given that the fandom mainly consists of me + the various friends I’ve kidnapped into the fandom, there really ISN’T all that much? Like, I feel like the 1789 fandom, as a whole, is a fairly chill space (knock on wood.)

things I look for in fanfic: Existing is a lovely start. 

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: I don’t MIND Camille/Ronan, Ronan/Olympe, or Olympe/Lazare. They aren’t FAVORITES in the same way, but I would probably read fanfic for it. And I have read fanfic for Ronan/Robespierre as well. 

My happily ever after for them: Lazare chooses to leave the Army after realizing that it’s destroying him, the two of them escape the worst of the Revolution together and go away, either to London or America (I. Doubt. That someone as high profile as Lazare could slink away to the country like a ton of other aristocrats did.) They live together more or less openly, Lazare deciding against taking a wife for convenience’s sake, and society is left to deal. In theory, they keep two separate bedrooms, but in practice? Yeah, that peasant boy is spending all his time in Lazare’s bed, and Lazare has no complaints. 

who is the big spoon/little spoon: See, I WANT to say “Lazare”. This has been my official stance for YEARS. That Ronan routinely cuddles up to Lazare (who had a very difficult time admitting that he, in fact, needs cuddles), and Lazare pulls his arm over him, protecting him, since we KNOW that Lazare tends to feel a deep sense of duty re: protecting the things most important to him, whether that’s the Crown or Ronan. BUT CONSIDER. BIG SPOON RONAN attacking from behind and Lazare getting to feel safe and secure for ONCE. 

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Ronan likes Lazare reading to him. Lazare has a very warm, smooth voice, when he isn’t barking out orders. Ronan loves getting to cuddle against his shoulder or on his lap, Lazare stroking his hair with one hand and holding the book in the other, letting his voice flow over him. Lazare will sometimes (gently) chastise him for not listening to a single word he says, but it’s worth it to see Ronan at peace (and, in the case of at least a few of the works, it isn’t a particularly great loss, anyway.) 

002 | Orléans

How I feel about this character: Thotty, ambitious bastard who should NOT be this charismatic and yet somehow IS. Also right for a solid 60% of the musical. I’m trying to articulate all my thoughts but they are just variations on “SON” and “PROBLEMATIC”. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Margrid Arnaud. Arnaud, Margrid. The sister of Marie Antoinette. Street Gremlin. I can KIND of see Antoinette, in a very, very odd way. Less “I love you so now I’m going to destroy you” like the Hungarian did, more “We were friends, there were Undercurrents to it, Things happened to make them have some mutually hurt feelings, and being stung like that set up this Mood for things later on.” 

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I’m actually really interested in Louis & Orléans, as a relationship. Like, they were COUSINS. Something went deeply, deeply bad in their relationship at some point, and it totally ruined both of their lives. In another life, they might have been closer, but, with a throne between them....there was really no other way for it to end. 

My unpopular opinion about this character: The LOVELY thing about a fandom that consists of, like, three people on a good day is that IT’S MY SANDBOX. But, one thing that I do think is that it wasn’t really a straightforward Mnaipulator-Manipulatee relationship with Margrid. She signed on knowing fully well that she would get her hands dirty, Orléans TOLD her as much, and she wanted it, at the time. It didn’t really benefit him to conceal what they would be doing. The two of them just happened to drift to two different places over time. I’ve seen a certain....tendency to baby Margrid over her choices, because she DOES have a traumatic backstory, but...she can still be rather reprehensible as a human being herself. In the early stages of the musical, HE’D be more likely to hold her back from doing something awful as opposed to vice versa. I also do think that...he didn’t GO OUT intending to supplant Antoinette. That was formed after years of seeing her bungle ruling the country. You can even see it in M cast when Antoinette turns down Rohan’s attempt to make nice, where he has this very distinct “Oh....she DIDN’T....she did” face. That isn’t the face of someone who’s THRILLED that things are going according to plan, that’s the face of someone who’s realizing that there’s only one way for this to happen and for France to remain in one piece, and it’s for him to take the throne. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: The problem with Orléans, as a character, is that at least in the Toho production, I DO think he’s fairly well done. It’s hard for me to REALLY see....what I wish could have happened. Because you kind of realize that there were only ever a few ways for this to end, and as the musical progresses, the available options just get narrower and narrower. It isn’t GOOD, but like....you UNDERSTAND how it happens. I do wish that he had more scenes with Margrid, obviously from a self-indulgent ship perspective. Not even in terms of “canonical makeout session” (since I almost feel like a canonical makeout session would ruin it), but in terms of him finding out that Marie was her sister and that THAT was where he went wrong, but also....I’m not sure how MUCH it would have ended, and there’s something to be said for the tragedy of him just never KNOWING why she betrayed him. That hurt, furious look on his face as he’s led away really is probably the best place to end their relationship on. I would have loved to have seen their second meeting, after Hébert convinced her to take the job, since it would have REALLY given a ton of groundwork for their working partnership and would have given them the chance to discuss their kind of disastrous first meeting.  Obviously, I would hope that he gets his head screwed on properly and he runs off with Margrid to America, where they end up living peacefully for many years and having children who are spoiled absolutely rotten, along with his other, legitimate children, who also flee to America. Philippe, being himself, naturally ingratiates himself to the new country, becoming very active in politics, and upon his summoning of his dear friend the Chevalier de Saint-Georges to America, the cause of Abolitionism is given a massive head start. It isn’t entirely France....or London, where Philippe’s heart will always lie, but it’s a nice existence, and his ego is suitably stroked by the American fascination with royalty. (He and Laz still have at least one near-duel, which is halted by their respective significant others.) 

my OTP: Morléans. Shockingly. 

my cross over ship: Never 5get @lochley fucking selling me on Marie/Olympe/Orléans. 

a headcanon fact: Part of why he has his ongoing snipefest with Fersen is that he’s bitter that Fersen was able to fight in the American Revolution while, in his case, after the Royal Family tossed him to the wolves after the Battle of Ushant, he was forced to remain in France and sit it out, and someone as active as Orléans could barely STAND it. (Also, along with Ronan, has SOME form of ADHD. He has a lot of plans, and one LARGER plan, but when it comes to things outside of that one larger plan? Yeah, he scurries around, chases after whatever seems good in the moment. It drives Margrid up a WALL.) 

[howlingheartdemigod]

Request: Jester tries to ask for more "practice" kisses. Beau, a nervous wreck, keeps trying to wiggle out of it until finally Jester is open, she wants to kiss her... Badly. She needs it.

so y’all did not like the fact that I am an angst monster and angsted up the end of THIS THING i wrote up for @iamwalkingdead1 

so OKAY FINE HERE I WROTE MORE AND IT’S SOONER THAN I EXPECTED 

title from here

one day you will arrive 

Beau spent a week avoiding Jester. It wasn’t like… totally obvious. She was chill. It was chill. They were in Zadash anyway, it was totally normal for her to spend all her time in Zadash training at the reserve. Totally normal.

It just… It was a lot to process, was all. It was a lot to think about. She didn’t know how she felt about Jes on the best of days, and this wasn’t the best of days. This was. Rough. And confusing and every time Beau so much as looked at Jester, all she could think of was the slide of her lips, the rough press of her fingers on Beau’s skin, the feeling of her soft thighs straddling Beau’s hips, and that-

That was not productive. That was not helpful. Jester was her friend. Her friend who liked Fjord, and the Traveler, and guys named Oskar in romance novels. It… It wasn’t gonna happen. And she liked being Jesters friend anyway. She really did.

So Beau spent a week at the monastery. She woke Caleb up before she left, telling him if they needed her that’s where she’d be. Then she didn’t come back for days. She just needed to think. She needed to meditate. She needed the hard scheduled time to push down the feelings and move on. She’d be fine. She’d be fine.

When she left the reserve, robes tied properly for the second time in living memory, she felt… still shit but, better. Not great. Not good, but better. Plus, if she spent another day sleeping on a roll on stone she might actually give herself back problems for real.

She didn’t go straight to her friends, instead wandering around the pentamarket, looking at this and that. She figured she could come back and buy dinner as an apology. Tell them that she’d been planning on going in for a day and then got caught up in a cool new training thing. She didn’t know what she’d show them if they asked what she’d learned, but it was a good enough lie as any.

“Beau?” She spun around, eyes going a little wide. Caleb was standing outside of Pumat Sol’s store, brow lifted. He looked her up and down. “Okay, this was already weird, but, uh, that makes it weirder.”

Beau slumped a little, leaning on her staff. Seeing Caleb sent a burst of happiness through her she hadn’t been expecting. They’d only been a mile away, but Gods knew how much she missed them. The Mighty Nein had become her center, which, she didn’t know how to feel about, except that she couldn’t quite bring herself to be upset.

“Ah, yeah.” she said, looking down at herself. She reached up to scratch the newly shaved back of her head. Her top knot, for once, was well tied. She looked like a proper Monk. “Been training.” She told him, the lie falling flat.

Caleb squinted at her, coming to stand by her. “Hmm, sure.” He looked past her. “You know, what’s funny, as soon as you left Jester decided to throw herself into reading about healing, and historical Clerics, and… she’s been training herself, too, I guess.”

Beau felt like she was talking to Caduceus, with the knowing look in Caleb’s eye. she took a breath, looking past him. “It’s… Look, I… It’s so fucking dumb. It’s like, so teenager. It’s stupid, Caleb. but… we kissed, and I’m all fucked up about it.”

Caleb, to his credit, managed to keep from laughing at her. “She seems pretty fucked up about it too.”

Beau snorted. “Sure she is. No, she’s probably just upset that I pulled my bullshit and left. That’s all I’m fucking good at.”

Caleb fixed her with a look. “You’ve stayed with us considerably more than you’ve left us, Beau. And you weren’t gone. We knew right where you were.” He seemed to think about it. “Maybe I’m wrong. Or maybe you should talk to her. I don’t know.”

Beau took a breath, giving a nod. “We still at the Leaky Tap?” She asked.

Caleb nodded, and turned off. “Let’s head back. I’m sure everyone will be excited to see you. Plus, buttoned up Beau is quite possibly the weirdest thing. Can’t deprive them of that.”

Beau’s return was met with a round of drinks and interrogation about how her time at the reserve had been. But she couldn’t meet Jester’s eye, and felt like there was a pit in her throat, and when a reason to get out of the city, to keep moving, fell into their laps, that was the best thing that could have possibly happened.

Beau could not figure out why she kept finding herself drawn to Jester. It was driving her crazy. She’d be walking along side the cart, and hear a dramatic sigh, and look up to see Jester with her back slumped on Caduceus’ shoulder, loudly complaining about how hot it was while tugging the collar of her blouse. Beau had to actually pinch herself to keep her eyes from trailing.

Jester would offer to take watch with Beau, batting her eyes, and acting a fool. Acting like Jester. It was probably some long form joke, knowing Jester. Or she’d re read Tusk Love. her flirting always got worse when she did that.

Beau would go down mid fight and, even though she knew that Jester was yards away casting spells when she went down, she’d wake up with her head cradled in Jester’s arms, the look of concern melting away.

It was trouble. She was sure she was just magnifying it all. Jester certainly wasn’t actually any more touchy and flirty than before. It was just projection. It was just wishful thinking.

It was hard to convince herself, but it had to be.

Yasha returned to them, which was great. When Yasha was around Beau could get away with not taking watch, with having a buffer roommate. When they stopped in Alfield, which was looking considerably better rebuilt than the last time they’d been there, Beau tried her best to forget that they’d ever even kissed. She flirted with barmaids, she got drunk and challenged Bryce to an arm wrestling match, then Fjord, then Yasha, then Caduceus. She acted like an idiot, really. And she steadfastly kept from looking Jester in the eye for more than a second. When she caught herself looking at the swishing skirts and soft curves, she forced herself to look away and take a shot.

And if she ended up outstandingly drunk muttering to an equally drunk Bryce about how ‘fucking beautiful’ Jester is, and how ‘shit’s fucking torture,’ then that was just fine, because Bryce couldn’t remember the next day anyway.

Everyone was kind enough to give Beau a day of recovery in Alfield before moving on. She needed it too, her head pounding like a drum, her stomach wrenching every time she tried to stand for the first two hours she was awake. She cursed the day she ever learned what alcohol was. She cursed who ever invented it too.

Yasha brought up some kind of broth, and turned the chair to face her as Beau dragged herself upright to drink it.

“You want to explain why you were drinking like the world ends tomorrow?” She asked, leaning on the chair towards her.

Beau let out a little groan. “Trying to wipe my memory.” She muttered. “It’s… I…”

“Is it something to do with why you locked yourself at the reserve for a week?” Beau squinted at her, an unasked question that Yasha shrugged and answered. “Caleb told me.”

“Damn that hobo wizard.” Beau muttered. “God, it’s so fucking dumb, Yash. Jester… she wanted to practice kissing, and I was like ‘yeah, sure, whatever, I’ve made out with straight girls before, no biggie, but then… It was a biggie. and I’m all fucked up about it.”

Yasha squinted at Beau. “So, let me track this. You and Jester kissed.”

Beau nodded.

“It was a good kiss?”

“Very.”

“You ran off to a monastery.”

“To be fair, I’m already technically a monk, but yes.”

“And now, even though she’s basically throwing herself at you, you decided to drink away your feelings instead of just locking the door and going at it.”

“Yeah, wait, no what?” Beau looked up from her bowl, scowling. “What? Jester’s not… that’s just how she’s like.”

Yasha snorted, and pushed to her feet. “If you say so Beau.”

Yasha left the room, leaning Beau to stare at a wall, thinking about it long enough for her soup to go cold.

It was a week later, visiting Marion Lavorre at the Lavish Chateau, when Jester got fed up. She’d tried flirting, she’d tried being super interested in what Beau had to say about training at the reserve, she tried showing more skin. But none of it was working, and it was torture. So she gave up on being subtle, waited until she knew Beau was alone, and stormed into the room, swinging the door shut behind her.

“Okay, I don’t know what I am doing wrong, but” She wheeled towards Beau, who was lounging on the bed a book in hand, looking confused. “I swear to The Traveler Beau, that if you don’t explain right now why you don’t want to kiss me again I’m going to lose my mind!”

Beau sat up, setting the novel aside. “What?” She said, head tilting adorably. ‘God, everything you do is cute.’ Jester thought. ‘It’s rude.’

Jester crossed her arms. “I know I was a good kisser. You were too bright red for me to not have been, but then you went off with your cool Monk buddies for a week and then when you came back you wouldn’t even look at me, so explain what I did wrong, so I can kiss you again and fix it, because, and I’m serious Beau, if I don’t get to kiss you again I am going to explode.”

Beau stared at her for a good ten seconds, and Jester felt like she was going to scream, or cry, or… or she didn’t know what. Then Beau was on her feet in front of her, reached to hold her jaw with one hand, and her waist with the other, pulling Jester close, kissing her like she was water in a desert.

Jester gasped, pressing back into the kiss. She lifted a hand to catch the back of Beau’s neck, slotting herself against Beau. She tilted her head, convinced Beau tasted better than sugar.

Beau broke the kiss. “so… You have been flirting?” she said, brow lifting.

Jester stared at her a second. “You seriously haven’t noticed?”

Beau shrugged. “I mean… People maybe have pointed it out to me but…”

Jester let out a little laugh, and ducked to kiss her again. “that clear anything up for you?”

Beau smiled wide, nodding. “Yeah, but I could use some more clarification on some points, if you don’t mind.”

And that was clarification Jester was more than happy to provide.

[argylemikewheeler]

Heyheyheyhey steve watching the stars, or going for long walks late into the night, not really caring what could be out there. Steve unable to swim in his pool after knowing what happened there, who died. Steve's parents asking him why he always seems tired. Steve taking up track to drive his mind away from monsters and deaths and blood, oh so much blood. Steve being closed off, everyone at school wondering where King Steve is, the fuckboy that everyone loved. Steve wonders too.

okay so i could write about one hundred pages on this, but here’s a little 2.2k word vomit. i loved this omg thank u anon

Steve wasn’t a bad son. He and his parents worked around each other, participating in a symbiotic performance of the Perfect Family. Steve got what he needed to succeed as much as he could in school and for his mom and dad to experience the joys of parenthood. They were caring and loving, but not active. Steve slipped through their fingers the winter of 1984 and they didn’t so much as watch.

Sleeping was like waiting for a rising tide. Lying in bed, Steve could feel the licks of unknown darkness across his ankles, soon swelling and washing over his legs. It’d cross his hips and he’d roll over, hoping the bright light of his back porch would pour through his sheer curtains and ground him. But staring at his pool lights only amplified the hushed screams folded into every lap of water. The water and Barb’s screams would climb farther, crashing over Steve’s chest. The water chased after his rapid breath, filling his lungs. He’d be paralyzed, the water still flowing faster faster and filling Steve up until it could only escape down his cheeks.

He woke up most nights screaming. His sheets tangled around his ankles, haunting vines unable to leave him alone, and his fear retreating back to the contained water of the pool. His parents were another floor away, knocked out on two glasses of wine and antihistamines. They were done soothing nightmares when Steve got out of diapers. He had to raise himself.

Steve’s first attempt was track. It was consistent and required no brain power. It drained him and made any sleep stem from exhaustion and not choice. The Party could come to practice or meets and he could keep an eye on them– while also turning a blind eye to his own condition. He was still having nightmares, even in the daytime, and running helped. It wasn’t enough– not even the thought that Steve wasn’t running from anything this time– but it was a normalcy. It helped.

–

“Steve, baby, why are you up so early?” His mom stepped into the dim kitchen light still tying her robe. Steve was standing at the counter trying to figure out how to make oatmeal taste as good as Nancy’s. He was in his fifth morning of experimentation and it was the first anyone noticed.

“I’ve been up since seven.” Four, actually.

“Oh, baby, you should be getting more sleep. You look worn out.” She reached for the coffee maker first, then Steve’s face. Her thumb ran over his cheekbone, now easily spotted and traced.

“It’s just the running, Mom.” Steve shrugged. “I’m just losing weight in my face.”

“Are you sure?” She was asking only because it was law that parents weren’t supposed to accept their children’s lies, even if they didn’t care. “You can talk to me.” Steve couldn’t.

“Yeah. It’s just this new training. Haven’t gotten my diet quite right.” Steve waved out to the bowls of oatmeal and loose oats spilled onto the counter by unsteady hands. The oatmeal was Steve’s last hope; an ingestion of comfort. Nancy had made it for him one last time before school before everything fell back into shambles. He was still moving an oat out from between his teeth when he crumbled up his college essay. “I’ll get it, Mom. I’m fine.”

“Okay, Stevie, baby.” She accepted the lie with the confidence it had been the truth. “Have a good day at school. And tell those boys I said hello.”

“They aren’t all boys, Mom.” Steve felt the futile need to argue El and Max’s presence. She wasn’t parenting them, she didn’t need to ignore them. “And I have babysitting after track at Will’s house.”

“Okay.” She was reaching for a mug and clanged the ceramic to hush out Steve’s words.

Steve took his oatmeal and left. He ate his breakfast in the car and drove to Dustin’s neighborhood. He was early but had no issue waiting. Time escaped Steve normally, his vision coming in and out as the world grew black, his skin feeling a chill that escaped everyone else. In those moments, when Steve was drowning again, time ticked outside his grasp. He’d blink back, sweating and weeping, to a time he didn’t remember leaving.

Luckily, Dustin came knocking on Steve’s window just as his dashboard became invaded by thick, black vines. Dustin was always pleasant on the ride to school. He had every reason to be disgruntled; he was fourteen and was on his way to middle school at eight in the morning. He had better perspective than Steve. Claudia always made sure of that.

“You good, Steve?” Dustin asked after a while. Steve hadn’t really noticed the silence until he stopped listening to his own thoughts. “You look like shit.”

“I’m trying a new hair product.” Lying was easier on four hours of sleep. “First day makes your hair look… deflated. Then it gets the volume.”

“Alright…” Dustin was skeptical. “I’ll be tracking the progress. The hair is a trade secret.” He laughed and Steve coughed along. His laughter had become waterlogged from his late nights lying awake. There was nothing left in Steve Harrington to offer. It had been cried, vomited, and screamed out. There was no laughter.

Dustin was a good enough child and friend to leave Steve’s car without another question. He wished Steve a good day and hopped out of the car, rushing to the front door with promise at his heels. Steve drove the three miles to the high school and parked at the far end of the parking lot. The oatmeal bowl on the top of his dash had hardened by then. It all had.

He’d have to soak the bowl when he got home. His mother would be mad. He’d apologize but it would slip out insincere and distant. He’d go to his room. He’d lay down. He’d wish he had been swallowed up by split, petaled lips of a monster pacing Steve’s thoughts.

“Steve?” Nancy was at his window with Jonathan beside her and both looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Come on, the first bell rang.”

“You can’t skip history again.” Jonathan added. “I can’t keep catching you up on notes, Steve.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sorry.” Steve muttered. The door was still closed and Nancy and Jonathan were speaking loudly through the glass, but their message got through clearly. “I’m going. I’m going.”

“Hey!” She grabbed his arm. “Is everything okay, Steve? You look…” Nancy paused to choose her words delicately. “Unlike yourself.” It was nice of her to insinuate that, on a normal day, Steve looked well-rested and adjusted. Steve hadn’t felt that way long enough to forget how to fake it.

“New hair product.”

“That must be it.” Jonathan stood on the other side of Steve. They bracketed Steve’s vision with pointed looks at one another. Nancy tried to talk with only her eyes while Jonathan was trying to do the same with his hands.

“I know, it’s looking really bad recently.” Steve continued. “I promise, it’s fine.”

“We weren’t asking about your hair.” Nancy said, her tone toed a scold. “We were asking about you, Steve.”

“Same thing, isn’t it.” He muttered, reaching for the front doors.

“Steve…”

“Sorry, can’t be late again.” Steve said, walking off. “You’re off the hook for review, Byers. See you later.”

—

Steve didn’t remember gym class, which was entirely the point. Running around the track and playing point-less pickup games of basketball kept Steve separate from his own thoughts and just barely connected to his body. In gym, he was mostly motions. No one spoke to Steve in a way that required a response. He drifted from sideline to court. The gym remained a gym the entire hour; not a single vine tripped him playing. That was mostly himself or Billy on opposing defense.

After class, Steve was trying to wake himself up in the showers. The water was hot and felt thick against Steve’s numb skin. There were a few other students, some still discussing the game, others recounting the weekend. Steve scrubbed his face with his open hands.

“Shitty game, Harrington.” Billy said beside him. He had been across the showers, but had moved closer to Steve, if only to heckle.

“Thanks.” Steve said, trying to let the water prod harsh enough to force a smile. “I don’t really care.”

“I just thought King Steve would have more invested in his own reputation.” Billy laughed. “Guess you’re letting the kingdom run you out, huh?”

“Whatever, man.” Steve muttered. There was more on Steve’s mind than the popularity of his actions. They might have been running him out of his place of status, but Steve had spent more time genuinely running for his life. “Fuck off.”

Billy scoffed but the water beside Steve continued to run. Steve hadn’t opened his eyes and wanted to cherish the moment he had in the familiar and unchanging dark. It was simple nothingness, the water beating against Steve’s face and streaming down his chin and chest. The warmth stirred feelings of humanity, of intimacy and closeness. Of the rapid thump thump thump of Dustin’s heartbeat against Steve’s hand as he hoisted him off the squelching, trembling ground. The fear of being torn apart just below the surface of Hawkins and being smeared along a pumpkin patch as their own lasting impression–

Steve’s eyes shot open as the darkness began to root itself in his nightmares. To his horror, the pooling water had turned to blood. Thick, warm, human blood. The water on Steve’s hands, around his feet, running down his chest was a dark maroon. He clenched his eyes closed again, his breaths whistling between his teeth as he began panting. The water was too warm now, it was overheating him. The kill was recent, maybe able to save–

“No no. No. Come on. Don’t.” Steve muttered, opening his eyes and trying to force himself to see the regular yellow tile. The blood was now smearing the shower faucet and soap bar. “Oh god. No no.”

“Yeah, if I saw what you did when I looked down, I’d be upset too.” Billy chuckled, noticing Steve’s slow tremors but connecting minimal dots to even begin intervening. His face was covered blood too. Steve’s haunting memory started with a slow drip from Billy’s nose, where Steve had once landed a punch, and slowly spreading over his entire face. He grinned through it, Billy unable to see through Steve’s nightmarish lens.

“No no. It’s not real. Come on, Steve.” He muttered to himself. He said his own name, reminding his body that there was a person inside; the world his brain was living needed to match the one his body was stuck in. He wasn’t in the tunnels anymore. “There’s no blood.”

“Excuse me.” Billy said, still listening. “Harrington, what are you talking about?”

“Please, just please shut up.” Steve begged, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. The water stung and felt thick in his eyes. Steve tried to wipe his eyes but felt the water smear across his face like steaming, burning war paint. “Leave me the fuck alone. Now.”

“Fine.” The water beside him stopped and feet slapped against the wet floor hurriedly. “At least, like, have a fucking towel, man.” Billy yanked Steve by the shoulder and counteracted the gesture. In actuality though, a teenager nearly vomiting, completely naked in the school showers must have been completely embarrassing for everyone involved. Billy wasn’t only helping Steve, if that was the correct word.

Steve took the towel being shoved on him. He stepped out of the shower’s static-feeling rush of water and feebly wrapped the towel around his waist. Steve still had his eyes closed. Opening them meant either reentering his nightmare or being brought to the brink of embarrassment in the boys’ locker room.

Finally, he allowed his eyes to open– and he was still standing in the showers. Warm water streamed at Steve’s face and he was dripping head to toe in clear, lukewarm water. There were wide eyes, quiet muttering, and quiet snickering.

Steve had a fight and flight response to the gut feeling of danger. They thought it was amusing, but Steve was the one with the first-hand experience chasing monsters with a prayer for his life and a pair of fucking swimming goggles. Steve was the one who slept with a nailed baseball bat under his bed every night, but they assumed it was all crushed beer cans and used socks.

“That ashamed over a game?” Someone chuckled, spinning their towel up. “All you got when you don’t got college, right?” They released an end and snapped the towel. Steve had to act like the sound didn’t make him jump.

He was mortified and exhausted and wondering how many nights did he have to wait until he’d truly never wake up.

The locker room erupted into laughter, Steve included. It was just another motion. Truthfully, he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He genuinely knew it had the ability to do so and devour him, and every last choking breath.

Sometimes, Steve figured it’d be easy to die; just like life had been before.

ao3

[youre-not-a-cat-youre-a-rat]

Title: “When You Speak French...” (1/1)

(AO3)

Rated E

Summary:

“He loved making love. Not in the physical, sexual sense - though she could bet he liked that too. But in that old-world, courtly, talking dirty behind a respectable veil of suggestion, way. Except, on him, and with a face he knew looked like it did...Respectable? Only barely.”

Worried about Hook post 4x12, Emma goes to check on him. They talk. They Netflix. They chill.

Emma was thinking of Killian when she walked back into the loft after dropping Regina and Henry off at their place.

She’d been thinking of him all the way back from the empty house, since Henry mentioned villains and happy endings, even. Or, no, it was more accurate to say that he’d been distracting her since she kissed him goodbye at Granny’s with a promise to call him tomorrow. He’d given her that rueful smile, just as he always did when they parted. But this time it was a little more...bleak?

And really, Killian had been on her mind since their weird, stiff encounter that afternoon, the wrongness of which she now knew she had Gold to thank for.

She swallowed the bitterness that rose, thinking of the day’s events. Man, if she was feeling this twisted, Belle must be doing terrible.

This was the problem, that somewhere between the time she’d followed Henry to Storybrooke and now, she’d started to think of everyone’s well being as her responsibility. Case in point Regina comparing her to her own speech-making mother that night.

Maybe that was part of the reason she’d been so eager to run after their showdown with Zelena.

Maybe it was lucky for her overtaxed emotional capacity that Hook had seemed so damn untrustworthy when they’d first met. It had meant she didn’t have to worry about him too. Funny that now he was starting to mean more to her than anyone. Minus her son.

“Emma?”

She was jerked out of her thoughts by Mary Margaret who sat at their kitchen table cradling Neal, David nursing a cup of coffee in the chair next to them.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Uh,” Emma said, realizing she’d been standing in the doorway for much too long. “Yeah.”

David stood and walked over to lay a hand on her shoulder, peering at her.

“Are you sure, honey?” Snow asked. As usual, they acted like they shared a mind as well as a heart. Must come in handy.

“Actually,” Emma said, lifting her thumb vaguely to point behind her, “I think...I’m gonna go...”

David’s brow furrowed.

“...check on Killian,” Emma finished.

Her parents donned twin expressions of measured surprise.

“It’s a little late,” David said.

“Yeah, I might just…” Emma felt her face heat, remembering who she was talking to. “Ah.” She cleared her throat. “I might just...spend the night at Granny’s. Or whatever.”

There was a pause as this sank in. David lifted his hand from her shoulder. “Okay. That’s...that’s alright.”

Emma raised her eyebrows.

“I mean - You’re an adult. You don’t need our permission to - ” David’s face began to resemble a tomato. “You can do whatever - ”

“Please stop,” said Emma.

“That’s perfectly fine, Emma,” Snow said, serene, burping Neal absently. “Thank you for letting us know.”

“Great,” Emma mumbled, turning to go.

“Have a good time,” Snow said.

An odd choking noise came from David. Emma turned to see her mother still looking carefully innocent. Snow smiled over Neal’s knit-cap-covered head.

Emma stepped out into the hall and Snow called “Be safe!”

Emma yanked the door shut on more squawking from her father.

Killian was still dressed when he answered the door. Emma briefly wondered what pirates wore to bed before she could stop herself, exasperated. She cursed her mother too, for good measure. Despite what anyone might think, that wasn’t what she was here for.

“Swan?” he said in greeting, confused. She liked that he called her by her last name. She liked a lot of things about him.

“Sorry,” she said. “I know it’s late-”

“Did something happen? Is everything…?”

He reminded her of the day she’d asked him out on their first date,

“Everything’s fine, no crisis...that I know of…” She trailed off, not sure how to continue. She didn’t have much experience with this part. The talking part. She’d been okay at it with Walsh, but everything about that relationship was a toss up, what with the flying monkey factor. Hook seemed to sense her discomfort, though, because he stepped back wordlessly to let her in.

She hadn’t been in his room since they’d officially started dating.

It looked like he’d settled in. More so than she had during her brief stay at the inn. She recognized his old coat in the closet, tails hanging past his other jackets. There were books on the desk, some leather-bound, some paperback, sitting in a row next to the obligatory bottle of rum. His jacket hung over the back of the chair. He had two lamps lit, low. Good lighting for spilling your soul in whispers. Emma licked her lips.

She felt his hand, warm, on her back, as he crossed in front of her to pull out the desk chair.

“What’s on your mind, love?” he asked when she’d sat and he’d found another chair for himself. He reached for the rum and the glasses and poured for her first. He was trying to relax her and it made her smile. But she still took a decent swallow after they’d clinked their glasses.

She took a moment to study him, trying to guess how much of his appearance was artful dishabille and how much was stress, if any. Was it just the liner that made his eyes look dark? Was his hair mussed from fairy-tale, pirate product, or had he been running his hand through it out of frustration.

He just stared back, waiting.

“How are you?” she asked, finally.

He blinked and broke into that wide grin. All sharp teeth and incorrigible rascal. “Worried about me, love?”

She didn’t smile back. “Yes.”

His grin disappeared. “I told you, Swan -”

“I know,” she said quickly. She didn’t want him thinking she was doubting him. “I know,” she repeated, gentler, and looked him in the eye. “I’m a survivor too. So I know that living through something doesn’t mean you feel like roses afterwards.”

There was that shift in his eyes again. The bleakness. He looked away, the way he did sometimes. The way she did sometimes. They’d become quite a pair, bumping into each other’s insecurities, shying away from the spotlight of each other’s stare. Emma wasn’t discouraged. It was her turn to prod, her turn to coax, her turn to catch him if he decided to take a leap of faith.

She considered how to continue. If the situation were reversed he’d have some great declaration of devotion all keyed up for her. She thought about pouring him more rum, but that felt wrong, forceful, in a weird passive way. Instead she took his glass from him, laid her hand over his.

“You remember when Walsh turned into a monkey and tried to push me off the roof of my apartment in New York?”

He blinked, pulled out of his brooding enough for his head to cock, his lips to twitch.

“Part of what sucked about it - part of what hurt - was that I thought I was past this. This choosing the wrong guy thing...this superpower failing me thing. But there I was again, wrong. Wrong about...me. I thought I was past this kind of mistake, but I guess I wasn’t.”

A slow, bitter smile spread across Killian’s face. “Aye, Swan. I thought I was smarter than falling for Gold’s tricks after a few centuries, but I suppose not.”

Emma sighed in frustration. “Not what I meant.”

“But it’s true isn’t it?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Yes you do, you were in that clocktower. I must secretly love being the Dark One’s puppet since I always find myself playing the role.” He practically spat the words.

Emma suppressed the urge to wince. Yeah. Whatever progress she’d thought she’d made with relationships when she’d been with Walsh had definitely been a fluke. She clutched Killian’s hand, wishing she could quiet whatever he was thinking - feeling - magically through physical contact. She cast a round for what to say. For the right fucking thing to say.

Quietly, a stab in the dark, she asked, “Tell me how it happened?”

He glanced at her, vulnerable. It made Emma scared, scared she wouldn’t catch him right. Scared she wouldn’t be able to comfort him.

“I did, you know. Sort of.”

Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t comment. It sounded like a start.

“Left you a message on your device. But Gold destroyed it.”

Emma caught herself before she blurted That’s where it went?! Not the time. Instead she stroked his wrist with her thumb and listened. Listened to him recount his side of their first date.

She didn’t realize that her grip on him was tightening, that her jaw was tensing, until he stopped to murmur, “Love?” all concerned.

“Sorry,” she said, trying to relax. Jeez, what kind of look must she have had on her face? “I just  thought that was a good night for us. Like we pressed pause on all the magical drama to have a normal date. Or as normal as we get, anyway.”

“It should have been, Emma. I’m sorry.”

She frowned. “For what? It’s not your fault Gold’s a rat.”

He looked a little surprised at her vehemence, but he plowed on. “But I should have told you.”

Emma nodded slowly looking at their hands. At some point during his story she’d wound up sandwiching his between both of hers. The metal of his rings had grown warm. “You should have,” she said, “but I get why you didn’t.”

He shook his head, the bleak look back. “I can’t tell you how much I hated myself for it when I found you at that empty house.”

Emma squeezed his hand again, frustrated. “Stop that. I was so distracted with the magic stuff, then. But I could tell, later, there was something weird going on with you. I wish I’d -” she broke off and laughed at herself, bitterly.

“What?”

“I was almost jealous of Belle in that clocktower, you know?” She couldn’t help smiling bitterly. “Not because of her miserable situation, just...she knows Gold so well. He was keeping things from her too, but she put it all together with so few of the pieces. I wish I could have done that for you. Figured out what was happening, I mean, not...kick you out of town.”

Killian winced. “Aye. And I’d rather not be compared to the bloody Crocodile.”

She blinked. “You’re not. You’re nothing like him. I wouldn’t be…” She sighed, trying to explain herself. “I’ve had more than enough of relationships where someone isn’t being...true with me.”

Killian stiffened, his eyes wide with regret, and Emma rushed to soothe him, hands cupping his face and drawing him close.

“Hey,” she murmured, trying to pour her conviction into him through their shared gaze, “That’s what I mean. You’re not like that. You’re just...like me. Used to taking care of things alone.”

Killian breathed out, heavy. “Yes,” he said, wholehearted.

She ran her thumb back and forth over his beard. “I guess we have our work cut out for us if we want to start taking things on together.”

He covered her hand with his, and gazed at her. “We just have to remember that we make a good team.”

She smiled, recognizing the echo from the beanstalk. “Yeah. We do.”

She felt his body shift in a sigh again, eyes full of peace. She felt a surge of satisfaction at having put it there. He stroked a lock of her hair, lazy, and she nudged forward to kiss him. Soft and sharply sweet, the way most of their kisses had been after Neverland.

When they pulled away, he glanced at the clock on his desk, resigned. “It’s late,” he said.

“Right,” she said. “I...I was thinking I’d stay.”

Killian stared at her.

“Not to...do anything if - I mean - Not that - That’d be fine if -”

“Thank you,” Killian murmured, cutting off her waffling, with a little smile. Emma felt that surge again. It was more than satisfaction, it was preening pride, it was fierce protectiveness.

After a moment, Emma realized they’d lapsed into silence, staring at each other.

Oh.

This was something she hadn’t thought of.

The awkward bit after the cathartic talk. Great.

Emma rubbed her hands on her jeans. She was nervous now that they’d settled it, unsteady with the force of all she was feeling. Killian watched her fidget. Was that a lip twitch? Was he laughing at her?

Finally she blurted, “I thought we could watch a movie.” She paused to reign in the volume. “You know, since you’re really gonna need to know what movies are. Especially if you keep hanging around my kid.”

“Yes, he’s mentioned them a few times,” Killian said, seemingly unperturbed by her weird mood shift. There was definitely a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“Well, they’re…” Emma waffled. “Moving pictures. Motion pictures, is what they’re called. They’re like...plays? Recorded plays.”

He blinked at her. No comment apparently.

She reached for her bag figuring it would be easier to just get to it than explain. She’d picked it up from the floor by the desk, and pulled out her laptop. Killian’s chair creaked as he leaned back, relaxed, to watch her.

“I thought I could show you what they’ve got on Netflix and you could pick one that looks interesting.”

He shrugged, of course, probably not understanding her, but not seeming to care. “I’m sure I’ll like whatever you choose, love.” His voice was throaty with contentedness.

She took his cue, skimming through the Netflix categories. Back to the Future, wasn’t available for streaming...she thought he might start picking at inaccuracies if they watched Pirates of the Caribbean...

She hesitated over The Addams Family. Good comfort fare. Though she worried Thing might be kind of insensitive, but Killian only snorted at her description. “As my hand didn’t actually turn out to have a mind of its own, I think I’ll be able to handle it.”

She reached over to touch his hook. “You don’t want me or Regina to try and reattach it for you?”

“Do you care whether or not I have it?”

Emma frowned “No.”

“That’s what I assumed,” he said. “And I find I’m liking myself better now than as I used to be.” He shrugged. “And, for better or worse, what I am now is a man with a hook.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, “I can understand that. I’ve found I like myself better now, too. And I like you. As you are.” She smiled to herself. “I like us.”

Killian huffed a laugh. “Aye, love. So do I.”

Emma’s stomach had started to do an embarrassing sort of flutter whenever Killian laughed. Especially when she was the one who made him laugh. “Well, anyway,” she said gruffly, turning back to the computer, “I think you’ll like this one? Everyone wears a lot of black, and there’s swordfights and chivalry and...French.”

He grinned. “A oui?”

“Oui,” she said back, smirking.

She set the computer on the bed and sat next to it to yank off her boots.

She noticed him staring at her from his chair and she slowed her movements, letting the leather slide from her fingers.

She thought she saw a flicker of possessiveness in his eyes before he stood to move her shoes by the door, toeing off his own boots and placing them next to hers.

She stood too, to shuck off her jacket and he appeared behind her to assist. She felt his breath stir her hair and suppressed a shiver. Woa. Relax.

She sat back down on the bed, folding her legs like a pretzel and tucking her hair behind her ears. She watched as Killian walked back to the bed, flicking open the buttons on his left sleeve.

Emma was careful not to react. But she couldn't help the way her senses heightened, the way her focus narrowed on his fingers rolling back the fabric, on the slow reveal of dark hair and pink scar tissue and leather straps.

This was new. Not just her seeing him without his brace. Not just their spending the night together. But the simple intimacy of getting comfortable around each other. Of settling in to lounge together, not a common luxury in their case.

It was so domestic. She should be freaking the hell out. Maybe later she would be. But now she was too busy soaking it in. All of him. Long and dark and lean, often dangerous, but now vulnerable, in his socked feet. Trusting, shit, so damn at ease, as he undid the buckles on the straps. He tugged the brace off, hook and all, and dropped it on the night stand. Then he climbed over her, crowding her for a moment, but not touching her - not even brushing her by accident - as he moved around her to the empty space on the other side of the bed. His scent surrounded her, always managing to remind her of the sea, clear and salty. She hitched a breath.

He caught her eye as he settled next to her and betrayed himself with a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Exasperated, Emma gave him her best unamused glare and moved the laptop closer to start the movie. He chuckled as he slid his arm around her shoulder. Emma reached over and pulled his stump into her lap. She felt him stiffen, and was about to let go when he relaxed again. She slipped her hand under his sleeve and squeezed.

They both turned their attention to her laptop.

She caught his bewildered look at the opening with the carolers, but he laughed at Wednesday's shooting the apple in Pugsley’s mouth, and smirked at Morticia and Gomez’s flirting.

“The girl reminds me of you.”

“She does?”

“Aye. Weren’t you a little trouble maker as a lass?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Weren’t you?”

He mirrored her expression. “Oh yes.”

She grinned.

They were silent for a while - he, absorbed in the movie, and she, absorbed in him being absorbed in the movie. She felt him twitch every now and then at the more jarring smash cuts or pans, and she stroked his wrist to soothe him. She felt the pucker in his skin from the scars and wondered if it would be weird if she pushed his sleeve back to kiss them.

The auction scene came. Maybe her anticipation was a little sharper as she waited for his reaction. If there was one thing Killian loved (and could relate to), it was being a flirt.

He loved making love. Not in the physical, sexual sense - though she could bet he liked that too. But in that old-world, courtly, talking dirty behind a respectable veil of suggestion, way. Except, on him, and with a face he knew looked like it did...Respectable? Only barely. Emma had been amused to find herself on the receiving end of it. Among other things.

Sometimes she wondered if she really rose to the challenge of all his double entendres. She did alright, in her own dry way, she thought. But now and then, over the last few months (and even, if she was honest with herself, before they’d started dating), she’d found herself worrying he didn’t find her a satisfying enough flirt.

All this to say, Gomez and Morticia were orgasmically outbidding each other when she glanced at Killian just as he glanced at her.

Coward that she was, Emma looked away too quickly to read his expression. But she could feel his body tense slightly around her. Christ, she hadn’t been quite so aware of how much they were touching until now. She was pressed into him, hip to hip, his body warm through the knit of her top.

“Have you ever done it in public?”

There was a pause where she guessed he was registering that she had actually blurted out that ridiculous non-sequitur.

“Excuse me?” His voice was carefully neutral.

Emma’s cheeks were flaming, but she still nudged her chin towards the couple mauling each other in the middle of a crowded room. “Has that ever been you?” she asked, forcing herself to watch his reaction.

The smile that unfurled at that comment was one of his more evil ones. “Gentlemen never tell,” he said.

Emma stared at him. “Gentlemen don’t look like a cat who just made a meal of a whole bunch of canaries.”

He shook his head, smirk guarding his stupid sex secrets, and turned the question on her. “And you lass? Have you ever lost control with an audience?”

She scrunched her nose. “I was never much for PDA.”

He gave her an infinitely patient look

“Public Displays of Affection,” she explained, sheepish.

“Ah,” he said. “No, you wouldn’t.”

She shifted to get a better look at his face. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t take offense, love,” he said with a gentle smile. She felt his fingers carding through the  hair on her shoulder. “I like that you’re private. You’re protective of the things you love because you love them so fiercely.”

Oof. Emma felt that giddy fluttery feeling take ahold of her again. He had to stop ambushing her with stuff like that. “Thank you,” she said, softly.

“For what, love?” he said, just as softly. “It’s the truth.”

She had too look away again, shy. That’s what unsettled her about him. He made her shy.

“Maybe once or twice, to answer your question,” he said.

She gave him a withering look, but was grateful that he’d switched back to playful.

“I’ve certainly imagined it more than once with you.”

That made her ears perk. “Have you?”

“Aye.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Especially at the sheriff’s station.”

Emma snorted.

“Never thought I’d take a liking to shackles, but when it’s you doing the shackling...”

She stared at him. “You’re not serious.”

He grinned. “You doubt me?”

“Are you saying if I slapped cuffs on you right now -”

“Well, not for our first time.”

Their first time. The words sounded bolded. A title. Emma and Killian’s First Time. Emma could feel the blood drain from her face.

“Emma, what is it?”

She resisted the urge to say Nothing. She’d decided not to hide things from this man. Still, her words came out a bit too clipped when she said, “You have it all planned out then? Perfect? With candles and rose petals and champagne probably.”

“I…” He looked at her, a little bewildered. “I hadn’t made plans, no...”

Guilt stabbed her. She opened her mouth to explain herself.

“But of course I’ve thought of it,” Killian went on. “I’ve thought of you,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Many a time. Sometimes with champagne and candles, sometimes with handcuffs. Sometimes on my ship if it were truly to be perfect. On the deck under the stars, or in my cabin, shutting out the rest of the world.” His voice had lowered, his accent making the words liquid. His eyes were as dark and as warm as the scenes he described. “Sometimes at your loft with everyone else gone, in the kitchen.”

“The kitchen?” Emma mumbled, somehow quipping through the haze. His lips twitched.

“Aye. When you’re leading the room as if it’s a war council. You’ll say something particularly practical, or determined, or witty. And I’ll imagine dropping to my knees right there and tasting you. Your quim sweet and wet on my tongue. Worshipping you properly, as you should be.”

Emma sucked in a breath, his words and the rasp in his voice trailing down her spine. So much for respectability.

She was even more shocked when he looked away, when she saw the pink on his ears.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said. “I didn’t mean to -”

“Keep going,” she said.

His gaze snapped to hers. He licked his lips and obliged, voice drawing quieter, reverent. “Sometimes you’re here,” he breathed. “When I’ve spent all day with you or when I’ve hardly seen you at all. When some miserable threat is plaguing the town. When I can’t sleep for some worry or when I’m dreaming, you’re here. You’re in my bed.” His eyes traveled the length of her.

She felt the look like a touch, like his hands dragging over her skin, like his mouth pressing against her, breath hot.

When he met her eyes again, his held that wry glint, that humor heavy with feeling. “I’m never rid of the thought, love. Never rid of you. You torture me.”

That was enough. That was enough for her mouth to find his. His clever, beautiful, sad mouth, slanting over hers with a groan. The arm around her shoulders catching her to him, locking them together. His body long and warm and firm against her breasts, her stomach. His hair soft under her fingers, his beard scratching her cheeks and her palm. His taste as she licked into his mouth, tongue massaging hers, hot and decadent.

Good. He was good. Very good at this. Not a new thought, but it was a miracle Emma was thinking at all in this state. She was all instinct and sensation, all of her focus occupied by the need to take this man, to devour him and be devoured by him, until they forgot all of their wounds, until they forgot their own names. Until there was nothing left but each other.

Fuck, she was wet. She could feel the thrill between her legs as she swung one over his hips to ease the ache. Her foot smacked something but she didn’t register it until a loud clatter made them both jump.

“The device,” Killian said, thickly, peering over the side of the bed. His hair looked thoroughly wild from all of the damage she’d inflicted on it. Emma bit her lip to keep a nervous laugh from escaping her.

Killian glanced at her. “Should we…?”

“Yeah. Uh.” Emma disentangled herself from him, her body protesting rather loudly, and picked up the computer. It was running fine, fan still whirring obnoxiously in her hands. She considered asking him if he wanted to finish the movie. She considered tossing the thing out the window and attacking him again.

“Are you...alright?” he asked, still hesitant, awkward, which was very weird for him. “I’m sorry if I -”

“No!” Emma jumped in. “I’m sorry, I know we’ve never talked about it before. Not really.”

Killian scratched his ear “I’m usually much more adept at this.”

“Me too,” she said. “I think it’s just been a long time since I’ve done it with someone I cared about.”

He gazed at her. “We’re in the same boat then.”

Emma turned away and placed the laptop back on his desk, fussing. “I really didn’t mean to do this tonight.”

“Didn’t mean to,” he repeated. “Did you have plans for us, then, Swan? Champagne and roses?”

She smiled at the tease. “I guess I didn’t want to assume how you felt.”

Killian nodded, lips quirked. “Well, you know how I feel now.” He gave her her a prompting look. “Why don’t you tell me how you feel?”

Emma grimaced. “That’s something I’ve never been good at.”

He didn’t comment, only watched her, expectant, accepting.

“I feel…” she felt hot, she felt uncomfortable, an itch under her skin. She felt like her bra was too tight. She seized the whim and reached behind her, under her top, to unhook it.

His eyes widened as he watched her pull the straps  through her sleeves and slip the whole thing out from under her shirt. She brandished it awkwardly. “It’s, uh…”

“Stays,” he guessed, his eyes flicking back to hers, amused.

Emma huffed a laugh as she tossed the bra away. “Yeah, stays.” She tossed the bra somewhere and ran her hands through her hair as she approached him, not quite meeting his eyes.

He wouldn’t meet her eyes either but she discovered it was because he was staring at her chest. Emma bit down on another laugh. Typical.

He placed his hand on her waist, big and warm. She abruptly lost her mirth. His thumb stroked her side through her top. He dragged it up to the side of her breast and she clutched his shoulder to steady herself. “Have they gotten more comfortable?” he asked, voice deceptively light.

She blinked.

His lips twitched. “Stays,” he clarified.

Smirking, she took his hand and guided it under her top, ran his fingers over where the wire had left an indent in her skin. She heard him breathe in, stroking along the mark, frowning. Then he leaned in and kissed her through her top, underneath her breast, mouth hot and not even close to where she needed it.

Emma swallowed.

He leaned up and drew her into a light, teasing little kiss. “Tell me what you feel, Emma,” he goaded against her lips.

She gripped the fabric at his shoulders, gathering his shirt and vest in her fists. “I feel like you should lose this,” she murmured back.

He smiled into another kiss, and started undoing buttons.

Emma took her hands away from his shoulders, wanting to draw out the anticipation. Usually she had no patience for frivolous titillation or sweet nothings. But Killian was all about sweet nothings, and she wanted to let this nervous want grow, wanted to see where it would lead. She dug her nails into her jeans as he finished with the vest and tugged his shirt out of his pants.

She watched the strip of chest he was always showing off grow longer. She remembered him throwing off his raggedy disguise at the base of the beanstalk, smug and preening. Emma had always had kind of a thing for hairy men, though any appreciative thoughts she might have had about his looks at that time were quickly followed by annoyance.

It wasn’t the last time ogling his cleavage had left her feeling confused. She remembered glancing at it dubiously when they were at Zelena’s snowy farmhouse. She might have even snapped an “Aren’t you cold?” at him at one point. He’d responded with a knowing grin. She’d watched him out of the corner of her eye during lunches at the station, or traipsing through the woods looking for the latest monster. But now she could look at him unimpeded, no monsters, no hidden agenda, just Killian.

She felt like she was unwrapping him, pushing the clothing off his shoulders and kneeling between his knees. She felt his pulse drumming under his jaw. Thumbed the chain around his neck. He sat still, such a freaking gentleman. She moved her hands down between his pecks, brushed the hair outwards, let his nipple pop up between her index and middle finger. She studied it, relishing the way his chest pressed into her hand with his sharp intake of breath. She moved on, running her palms down his torso. She scratched a nail lightly through his goody trail, following it down to where it disappeared into his waistband. She hesitated there, wanting to just grip him through the leather, see her investigation to the end. But this wasn’t her usual one night stand, not her usual brazen routine.

He caught her hand in his and tipped his forehead to hers. “Now you?” he rasped, and it steadied her, knowing he was as affected as she.

Emma yanked off the knit top without preamble. Killian made a sound that almost sounded like a sigh. He gathered her close again. She rubbed his legs, forcing herself to hold still, to let him look his fill. He stroked her collar with his knuckles, she shivered from the cold of his rings and he murmured something wordless and soothing, leaning forward to kiss the place he’d touched. She shivered again, digging her nails into his legs.

He chuckled. “Impatient love?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

He kissed his way down to her right breast, brief, open-mouthed, sucking kisses, nipping at her skin. She gasped when he lapped once, long and teasing against her nipple before drawing it into his mouth.

The sound she made was mortifying. He looked up at her, mouth around her breast, eyes hungry and satisfied, desperate and predatory. Emma remembered his kitchen fantasy and was hit with the sudden vivid image of him giving her the same look from between her legs.

“Fuck,” she muttered. She seized his face between her hands and dragged him up to kiss him into next week. They collapsed on the bed and she fell flush against him, wiry and hot and everywhere. Hair tickling her nipples, pendants on his necklace scratching her skin. She groaned and he growled, rolling them, leveraging himself with his knees so that he could grind that hard ridge right against her core. She clasped her legs tight around his waist.

Suddenly he tore his mouth from hers, and Emma blinked, dizzy and confused as she watched him twist off the first of his rings with his teeth. He cursed when the second one gave him trouble and glanced at her wildly. “Get them off,” he ordered, gruffly.

“Huh?” was all Emma could manage.

“Get them. Off.” He bit out the words, and Emma moved to comply, irritated through the haze of desire. Maybe he sensed this because he let out a strangled laugh before leaning in to nuzzle her neck. “Please love,” he whispered hoarsely. Her fingers slipped on the metal when he bit her gently. Fumbling, she managed to get them all off while he nipped at her earlobe.

For a guy with only one hand, he sure managed to make it feel like he was touching her everywhere at once. Stroking down her back, thumbing her nipple, dragging over her stomach and sliding home - right into her underwear.

He swallowed her stuttered gasp with a kiss. He petted her hair, parted it to stroke through her folds. Emma had the stray thought that he’d been insistent about taking off his rings for her comfort. Fucking gentleman.

He found her clit, brushing against the hood with his fingertip. He broke their kiss to watch her as he covered her whole mound with his hand and placed the heel of his palm right against that sensitive little bundle. He rubbed, stroking her lips, grinding lightly against her, making just enough friction to flip the switch, to make her arch up against his unyielding body.

“You’re to tell me how you like it, love,” he said, fingers playing at her entrance.

“I like that,” she whispered. “I’d like it more if you’d get the hell in me.”

She groaned as he sunk a finger into her folds, his thumb stroking her clit. He kissed her again, nipping at her bottom lip. “I could be dreaming right now,” he said, “except you feel too good to be a figment of my imagination.”

“Same,” was her inspired reply.

But he laughed. “Is it?” She gasped as he hit a particularly good spot, and his brow furrowed, mouth open to mirror hers. “Do you dream of this, too, Swan?”

She would have teased him about fishing for compliments, but he was so focused on her, drinking in her face, studying her reactions as he touched her. She found herself sniping, “Yeah, I think about you. When you’re annoying me I think about shutting you up.” He laughed, flicked her clit again. She hissed.

“Or when you scare me, running off into danger when I tell you not to,” he hummed consolingly at that, “I think about torturing you.”

He froze for a moment. Fixed her with a look of mock disapproval, but didn’t speak. She licked her lips, pushed on. “When you tell me something sweet or supportive, or when you’re just -” he brushed that place again, deep and tender inside her, “there. When I need you and you’re there.” Her breath started to come in short pants. “A lot - I think about you - All the time. I just never get too far. I don’t like fantasies because then reality doesn’t hold up. That’s how it usually is.”

He’d eased off the pressure as she talked, circling around her clit. But now something flashed in his eyes and he dove into her again.

Emma let out a cry - a cry, like a gothic novel heroine - and gripped his shoulder. “And?” He asked. “Is it a disappointment?”

She would have laughed at the drama of the statement if she weren’t so out of her mind with sensation. His thumb still kept attention on her clit while his other fingers worked, ruthless, on that place that made her teeth clench with its intensity.

Oh god, she was overwhelmed. By his touch and his voice and his kiss, which he groaned into as if he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t resist her. The kiss was wild and harsh, he was set loose, free to do all he threatened in looks, in flirtations. All those things she never knew how to respond to, now she could do nothing but respond. She was too far gone to know anything at all except him, surrounding her, inside her. He tore his lips away from her to watch her, his hair was a mess again, his face a mask of concentration and wild yearning that mirrored her own, eyes huge and blue. It was him. Finally.

Her orgasm ripped through her, the tension expanding, exploding, shooting out to her fingertips, to her toes. The rush unending and anchored by his fingers speared into her, by his gaze enveloping her, muttering words of encouragement.

It felt as if the whole night had passed when it was over. As if every thought and discomfort had been scooped right out of her. Killian slid his fingers out of her and sucked them clean. She shuddered watching him.

“No,” she said.

He looked at her.

“Not a disappointment.”

His eyes glazed over with a heady satisfaction, and he leaned down to tease her with a kiss. She could taste herself on his tongue.

Her fingers unclenched, sticky with sweat, and she realized she’d been clutching his rings in her fist the whole time. She presented them to him.

He rubbed her thigh with his wrist as he took them. She wondered at her pants still being on.

“We can stop here,” he said. “If you want.”

She stared at him. “Is that what you want?”

His brows twitched, and he glanced at the ceiling with a dry expression. “I think we’ve established that I want you all the time.”

“And what do you want to do with me?” Emma prodded.

“Whatever you want, love,” he prodded back.

“Okay,” she said, through with the preamble. She gripped his shoulders flipped them both sloppily with a tilt of her hips. She sucked in a breath as she landed on the bulge in his pants, which seemed to have grown more significant during her interlude. His eyes fell closed as she rubbed against him, lazy and feline, listening to his breath hitch. She felt the fuse spark again, as easy as if he’d snapped his ridiculously talented fingers.

“I want this,” she purred through his groan. He arched up to capture her mouth again. They kissed, drunk and languid, clutching each other. Emma jerked as she felt the metal of the freaking rings he still held in his hand bite into her side. He started to pull away but she anchored their kiss with a hand at the base of his head, while with the other she took the jewelry away from him again and tossed it. He grinned into her mouth as the rings pinged across the floor.

Emma shoved both hands into his hair and set about wrecking him. Bowling him over, as if she could suck his release right out of him. She remembered Neverland, but that had been different. Then she’d been feeling like her old self, cocky and ready to throw a man off guard, not a desperate mother searching for her son in a magical hell.

Now, she wanted to take him apart for its own purpose, for his own pleasure. For the noise he made when she ground down on his hips. For the ridiculously decadent expression on his face as he cupped her breast, thumbed her nipple.

He bent down to her again and sucked.

She bucked against him and gasped, the sound high and sharp.

And he stiffened, suddenly, releasing her to shove his hand into his pants to grip himself.

Emma gaped at him, his face flushed and twisted with concentration. He laughed grimly at her. “Look what you do to me,” he muttered. “I’m a disgrace.”

Emma took an unsteady breath at the thrill of having Killian underneath her, abusing himself to stave off his release.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, so we should take this slow.” A thought occurred to her. “Also.” Gingerly, she climbed off of him, crawling over to open the bedside table drawer.

“What are you doing?” he asked, behind her.

“Ruby told me Granny keeps them in all the rooms,” she said as she rummaged, “which I could not fucking un-hear. But I guess it’s good that I didn’t forget.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“These,” Emma said, hand closing over the little box in the drawer.

Killian propped himself up on his elbows and watched her curiously as she took too long tearing the box open. Finally she held up a condom with a lame flourish. “They’re -” she stopped. “Did you guys have contraceptives where you’re from?”

“Ah, French letters.”

“...Sure.”

Killian grinned suddenly. “Is that what I look like when I can’t place one of your modern contraptions? Because I can see why you’d find it endearing.”

“Don’t get full of yourself now -”

“Of course not, love,” he growled. “I want to fill you.”

Emma rolled her eyes even as she felt the words shoot straight between her legs. “Do you know what to do with this, or should I do it myself?”

There was a spark in Killian’s gaze and he fell back, hand and stump coming up to rest behind his head. “I bow to your expertise.”

“Oh my god,” Emma muttered. She stood and turned to take him in, sprawled out, dwarfing the bed. How the hell did he sleep here every night?

She noticed his gaze was lingering on her chest, and remembered she was naked from the waist up. She pursed her lips and his grinned widened.

“You know, you’re lovely when you’re irritated,” he said.

“I want you enough that I’m gonna ignore that,” Emma said before she placed the condom between her teeth so she could have both hands free to get his freakin pants off already.

“Just a jest -” he fell silent as she kneeled over him, making quick work of his zipper and yanking the leather down over his hips.

Captain Hook was a boxers guy.

Emma felt her face flush and she turned when she tossed his pants away, hoping he wouldn’t see. What was up with her? Why was she so shy about this?

“Love?” his hand encircled her wrist and he tugged her down to look into her face. He took the condom from her mouth and his left wrist brushed her hair over her shoulder. She recognized the motion as one he’d done before, with his hook. It made her feel soft and weird, it made her blush harder.

It made her search for his kiss and he was there immediately, soothing her with lips and teasing tongue and teeth. He drew her close and rolled them, rising over her, solid and safe. The pendants on his chain came rest on her breast bone again. She fiddled with the chain, trailed her hands down his chest as he kissed and nipped at her neck. She hooked a finger under the waistband of his boxers, no longer impatient, but curious. His kisses slowed.

“Emma?”

She slid under the fabric and took him into her hand.

He froze, his teeth bared.

She stroked him, lost in her discovery, lost in his reaction.

He drew a deep unsteady breath and searched her gaze. “Do you want this?” he asked.

“Yes,” she responded, sure of that, at least, even if the rest of her feelings felt so foreign.

“Then will you open this bloody thing?” he said brandishing the condom.

Emma snorted and took it from him. She ripped it open as he divested them of the last of their clothing.

She rolled the condom on him without preamble, impatient again, and he followed her lead, only stopping to kiss her again before he slid home.

Home. All of him, and there was quite a bit of him, suddenly there, suddenly everywhere, fusing them together.

It all came at her in a rush. The satisfaction, getting exactly what she desperately needed in this moment. It was a rare feeling. It was magic, peace whatever you want to call it. Not peace. That was too...peaceful. Too calm for this wild, rolling, need, rising up just as it was being sated. And it was precious to feel this good, to feel this right. Even now, at the bookend of a crisis, there was no telling whether the morning would bring another. She had to seize the damn moments whenever they appeared. She had to seize this night and this man who was troubled like her, but who was trying like her. This man who looked at her like she was his savior, but who somehow still made her feel like she didn’t have to be perfect, like she was glorious just as she was.

She wondered if he noticed she’d started to look at him the same way.

Except for the savior bit, because Emma didn’t need anyone to save her.

Just love her.

Fuck. Not now. It was too much, too much to be thinking about that now. She gasped and started blinking rapidly because there were tears coming out of her eyes. “I’m sorry. Wow, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, love,” he murmured, body tense above her, watching her intently.

She laughed at the on-the-nose endearment. “I’m really sorry, I know this shouldn’t be a big deal-”

“It is.”

She looked at him. His eyes were wide and serious. “It’s a big deal,” he said.

Somehow, her mind picked out the very dumb crack in the phrase. Emma let out a weird strangled hiccup that made him blink.

“Yeah,” she said, “it’s...”

His lips twitched. “Big.”

She tittered. “Really big.”

They burst out laughing right there. Naked and sweaty with pirate king Killian Jones inside of her, and they were laughing.

“I swear, Emma,” Killian said, gasping (man, his face was red), “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know you didn’t,” Emma weezed.

They laughed harder, and his face ended up buried in her neck, her arms and legs wrapped tight around him as they shook.

It was a weird sensation, feeling the rumble of his laughter all through his body, even where they were joined. And as she laughed, she could feel herself spasm too, everywhere, and tighten.

She heard his breath hitch.

Her laughter died, abruptly. She ran her hand up to the hair on the back of his neck and griped a handful while, purposefully, ruthlessly, she squeezed.

And Killian groaned.

She flipped him on his back, his head bouncing on the mattress, arms coming up to steady her by the waist. She paused. “Is this okay?” she asked.

“It’s bloody, fucking, fantastic,” he rasped. “You’re -”

She pinned his wrists down on either side of his head and his eyes widened. “You -” he tried again.

She started to ride him, her ass slapping lewdly against his thighs. He closed his eyes and moaned, back arching off the mattress. She could see the strain in his neck as he bared his teeth, the shine of sweat on his skin and the fur on his chest. His eyes opened again, almost black with desire and he bucked underneath her, pressing against the tender place inside her that made her stutter and squeeze. She saw the triumph in his eyes, and retaliated by diving back into her harsh pace, making him gasp. They kept up the rhythm, she relentless and he mindless, driving into each other. She watched his jaw slacken, his beautiful, plush mouth falling open, mute.

For all his lovely words he might be at his filthiest when he was completely speechless.

“Oh love,” he managed, finally. “You’re -”

She dropped down to her elbows, fisting the sheet behind his head, his breath brushing her face in short hot pants, and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. He slid his hand between them to brush against her clit. She gasped, opening her eyes as she ground against him. He was sweaty and frantic, hair standing on end, eyes huge and full and drowning her. He was precious.

And fuck, she was crying again.

“You’re everything,” he finished, the words whispered harshly and quickly smothered by her own mouth. She kissed him with everything she had, with all the adrenaline and fear and excitement and deep seeded contentment and rightness of everything she felt, of everything he made her feel, and it was too much, still too much, always too much to contain -

She sobbed with her release, too overwhelmed to worry about the display, too out of her mind to even be aware of it. Somewhere at the tail end of it she felt him arch and stiffen beneath her, hand coming up to brace the back of her head as he kissed her furiously.

And when she came back into her body, they were still kissing, slowly now, lazy. Tender. He trailed away from her mouth to kiss the tears off of her cheeks and she saw that he had them too. She returned the favor.

She stroked his hair back, pressed her forehead to his, closed her eyes, and just felt. The thought thoroughly fucked out of her. And good thing too because if she started thinking now she’d probably start crying again.

After some time, he shifted them from the weird diagonal position they’d fallen into across the bed. He kissed her in response to her sound of protest when he pulled out of her. He stood to dispose of the condom, frowning at it before tossing it into the trash bin next to the desk. She felt her eyes closing but she still stared at his ass he disappeared into the bathroom.

She felt something cold on her thigh and opened her eyes to find him cleaning her with a wet washcloth from the bathroom. His movements were focused and matter of fact as he performed the intimate little service.

“I came over to take care of you.” The thought just fell out of her mouth as it formed in her head.

Killian looked up at her and smiled, naked and rumpled and...happy. “I know,” he said. “You did. You do.”

That made her smile too. God, she must look like a doof. She’d leave feeling embarrassed for tomorrow.

He got rid of the washcloth and climbed into bed with her, tugging the covers loose and over them. He pulled her close, surrounding her, and Emma promptly drifted into sleep.

…

The stupid sun was hitting her right in the face.

Emma grunted, squeezing her eyes tight, trying to block out the light. She turned her face into the warm, solid surface under her cheek, rubbed her nose into the hair she found there.

She heard a grunt. “You’ve a cold nose, love.”

She opened her eyes to find Killian blinking awake. He was wrapped around her, arm under her head, legs tangled with hers.

She stared up at him and the giddy, joyful feeling she’d started to get around him - the one that happened whenever she made him laugh, whenever he made one of those declarations that hit her like a ton of bricks - rose in her chest, strong, filling her to her fingertips, to her toes where they rubbed against his calves.

He studied her face and broke into a wide smile, one that must match the one she felt stretching her own cheeks.

“Do you think,” she said, “if we stay in bed, that the rest of the town will just leave us in peace?”

He laughed, his teeth sharp, his eyes bright. Emma felt herself thrill, and she didn’t care.

“I’m all for testing that theory.”

[tricksandtales]

Chapter 12: A Family Affair

Chapter 12: A Family Affair

This is my family. I found it, all on my own. It's little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good. -  Lilo & Stitch

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

 Sam had spent his night cooped up in the library, just as Dean had said. Cas had not reappeared as he was now on the hunt for a potential earth-bound angel, so Riley and Dean had played video games and drank beer for the rest of the night, then headed to their separate beds.

 Riley had slept fairly well until the early hours of the morning when she’d woken, chilled. It had been unseasonably warm until this point. But apparently fall had decided it was finally here, and the bunker was having a hard time catching up. She had dragged what flimsy covers there were on her bed over her, cocooned herself up and tried to sleep for a few more hours.

 When she finally dragged herself out of bed and entered the kitchen in her pjs, pink pants and black tank top with the words ‘angel’ done in rhinestones (Riley thought this pair oddly fitting), she found Sam and Dean, both fully dressed. It was surprisingly early for them to be so put together, but maybe they were cold too. She shivered again, ‘so cold.’

 They’d both muttered good mornings, though Sam’s was much more upbeat. “You found something?” She asked, figuring it had to be the reason he was happy.

 Sam gave her his half jerky smile, “Yes and no. I think there’s a way to communicate with Michael.”

“That’s a last resort.” Dean frowned down at his cereal, voice still gruff from sleep. So they hadn’t been awake long, but got ready quickly. A hunt maybe?

 “But we I found something better. According to the lore, there’s a tracking spell we can try. Much like Dean’s amulet.”

 “Amulet?” Riley asked, voice muffled by the fridge as she rooted around for the milk.

 “Something I’ve had forever, it was a gift from Sammy.” Dean answered, hand touching something through his shirt.

 “I thought it was protective charm.” Sam offered. “But we found out later it was super powerful charm that was supposed to burn hot in God's presence. We still have no idea why it could do that. But it eventually did, once Chuck allowed himself to be found.”

 Dean mumbled something around a bite of his food. It was probably something unpleasant, based on Sam’s glare.

 “So, you can use this amulet to find the prophet?” Riley asked.

 “Not that one.” Sam answered, “But I think something like it can be made. With some assistance. We need ingredients, and then we need a powerful witch.”

 Dean snorted, “Luckily, or unluckily, we know one of those.”  

 Sam went on to inform Riley that they had called a powwow for that afternoon to discuss what they needed, and how to get those things. In the meantime, they were calling in reinforcements. So the morning was meant to research and get ready, while they waited for their friends arrival.  

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

 It was still cold by the time Riley had gotten ready and headed to the main room. Still a few hours left before Sam said the others were scheduled to arrive. It had given her a nice excuse for a long hot shower. At least the water heater in the bunker was large and strong, so she didn’t have to worry about running out. This was especially important considering the amount of time she’d realized it took Sam to get ready in the morning. That boy spent so much time washing his hair. And Riley was envious of the sheer number of products he had.

 Riley ran a hand through her own hair. Unless she was meeting clients or going to court, she spent very little time doing anything with it. Mostly it just air dried into soft waves. It gave her an effortless look. Which was in right now, or so she reasoned. Mostly she didn’t want to take the time to worry about. Preferring to focus more on other things.

 Based on the temperature, Riley had dressed in layers. Dark jeans, a blue flannel shirt with a crimson colored hoody over it, zipped most of the way up. She’d also donned fuzzy socks, with allowed her to pad silently down the halls. Thus the boys didn’t notice her at first when Riley wandered out, laptop under her arm. “Is it just me or is it freezing in here?” Their heads jerked up at her voice, slightly startled.

 Sam and Jack were at the table. Both looking at her for a moment before Sam gathered his wits to respond. “It is an old building, sometimes takes time to warm up.”

 It took her a moment for Riley to realize Sam and Jack weren’t the only ones present, and her gaze landed on Gabriel, who was sitting in a chair against the wall, legs thrown over the side. Their gazes met for a moment and Riley blushed. She hadn’t seen him since her apartment. Her fingers absently rubbed the mark on her wrist. His eyes dropped to her wrist and he gave her lopsided smile.

 “How are you all not wearing anything heavier?” She asked, turning her attention to the others. Gabriel was the only one in a jacket, but he normally wore it, so it probably had nothing to do with the temperature. She glanced again at the angel, wishing she could steal his jacket. She could still remember the feeling of waking up and finding it wrapped around her.

 “I don’t get cold.” Jack said pleasantly. Sam just shrugged.

 “Mm. Well, I’m hoping it warms up soon.” She shivered. “Otherwise I’m gonna need to get a winter coat. And it’s only the beginning of October.” She sat down at the table across of Sam. “Where are Dean and Cas?”

 “Beer run.” Jack supplied.

 “It’s early, even for Dean.”

 Sam smiled, “He’s prepping for Charlie.” At Riley’s odd look his smile grew into a grin, “He and our Charlie used to be really close. He’s hoping alt world Charlie will be enough like ours that they can be friends. Beer is supposed to butter her up.”

 “I liked Charlie.” Jack piped up. “She was a good fighter.”

 “In the other world.” Sam murmured, answering Riley’s unspoken question. Changing gears Sam motion to the books in front of him, “We’ve made good progress with the spell and I think I’ve gotten the ingredient list. With Jack back, we’ve got the whole hunter network working on this. Ketch and Charlie are heading this way to help us. Cas and Gabriel are going to get Jody and her crew. Plus mom’s coming back. Rowena’s on standby for when we get everything together.”

 “Dean thought we would need more beer, and pie.” Jack added. “He likes pie. I like apple pie. I have not tried other flavors.”

 “We can fix that, Jack.” Riley murmured, “Slowly.”

 “Everyone should be here within the next four hours.” Sam said, a half laugh at Jack’s enthusiasm over pie. Which seemed to almost match Dean’s.

 “Ah. So what’s our game plan?”

 “Hang out, read up on the leads on ingredients. Map out travel routes.”

 “Where do you want me?” Riley asked. Gabriel made a sound of amusement from his perch. Riley sighed, knowing that he was thinking something dirty.

 Sam glared at him assuming the same, “You don’t have to be here yet.” Gabriel only shrugged in response. “Riley, if you want to look for articles and things on this.” He slid her a piece of paper with a couple things on it.

 She raised a brow, “These are ingredients….” She trailed off her question.

 “Yeah.” Sam said, offhandedly, no longer paying her any attention as he was engrossed in his own laptop again. Sam had a habit of falling into the lore and forgetting about the world around him. Jack just smiled and turned back to his computer, though from the look of it, the kid was playing some sort of game and not researching.

 “Okay.” She opened her laptop. She pulled up several news sites and google. Because google was a girl’s best friend. Her list was weird. Apparently, water from where a rainbow falls was a thing. And the water of the four rivers – both waters needed to be blessed by a holy man. Riley glanced over at the much longer list in front of Sam: a human baby's first laugh, fire which has been cried by the Earth, wax which has been made from bees that have gathered pollen from the Garden of Eden, a quill made of feathers from five angels (given freely), various herbs and flowers, and a scroll- with papyrus gathered in the Holy land and wood from an ancient tree. No blood at least….. oh wait, blood of a prior prophet made into ink. Ick. Riley turned to her search, wondering how all the ingredients would be put together into a spell. Clearly some form of writing on the scroll, but how did that then turn into an amulet? Not her department, she decided.

 Quiet settled over the room.

 Riley continued to shiver, though it was hardly noticeable. But it was distracting to her. About five minutes into her search she considered getting up to get a blanket. But before she could actually move she felt something warm drape over her shoulders.

 Riley swung her gaze up to find Gabriel settling into the chair next to her, kicking his feet up on the table, leaning back, eyes closed. His obvious movements were a good distraction, because neither Sam or Jack noticed that Gabriel was no longer wearing his jacket, and that it now was settled over Riley’s shoulders. Instead they’d zeroed in on him for a moment before letting their gazes drop back to their respective laptops.

 The jacket was warm and still smelled like him. As the boys were currently not paying her any mind, Riley took a moment to raise her hands and bring the jacket fuller around herself. It also gave her the opportunity to breath in the scent that lingered.

 For some reason, Riley had become oddly attached to the jacket. It was probably because Gabriel seemed to always offer it as a form of comfort. A thoughtful act meant that he was aware of her and was actively interested in seeing to her needs. It was really nice and gave Riley this tummy turning feeling of happiness.

 In her head, Riley sent him a quiet thank you, and turned back to her computer. ‘You’re getting better at that, sugar.’ She startled a bit at the voice in her head. Hoping he hadn’t heard anything she’d been thinking before. No need for him to know her crush was growing.

 ‘So it does work this way.’ She thought back at him. Because she was definitely not going to call it praying. That was just too weird.

 ‘Bet I could make you pray to me. I’d be happy to fly us somewhere and prove it.’ His eyes were still closed, he was still leaning back, not giving any sign of movement except for the smirk on his lips.  

 ‘Stop it. I’m supposed to be working.’ She thought back. ‘And who’s to say you wouldn’t be praying my name.’ This was getting dangerously close to flirting.

 Who was she kidding, this was definitely flirting.

 ‘I’m willing to take that bet.’

 ‘Not tonight fly-boy.’

 ‘Does that mean some other night?’

 “Oh shut up.” She replied, out loud. Both Jack and Sam turned to stare at her. “Sorry. Internal monologue.” They gave her odd looks but turned back to their computers.

 ‘Very believable, tootsie pop.’

 ‘Those names are getting worse and worse. Can’t you just settle on one?’

 ‘I find myself with a fondness for Rye. Especially when you call me Whiskey.’ She glanced up and found his eyes half lidded, watching her. There was something in his gaze she couldn’t name, but it caused her toes to curl. Riley dropped her gaze and blushed, eyes staring straight down at her keyboard, refusing to engage further. She might say something she’d regret. Scratch that, no she’d probably not regret it. But it was way to soon to be admitting feelings.

 ‘Come on sugar, not going to say anything?’ There was amusement behind the thought. ‘Trickster got your tongue?’

 ‘Trying to decide how serious you are.’ She sent back. Then she closed her eyes and thought of what it would be like to kiss him. She pictured it clearly in her mind, painting the taste of his lips and the feel of her fingers tracing the smoothness of his cheek. She may not want to put words to her feelings yet, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hint at it.

 Though she wondered if visuals were actual able to transfer through this form of link. Maybe not, as she found silence when she finally let the vision of them fade away.

 It took him a full minute to reply, ‘Oh Rye, you are playing a dangerous game.’ His thoughts were no longer amused, there was something deliciously dangerous and heated now.

 Riley jerked at the sound of the door. Almost guilty. Though she had nothing to feel guilty for.

 Still, it appeared that their little game was over, as the arrival of Dean and Castiel with the beer stopped further thought of flirting. “Aren’t you a sad looking bunch?” Dean said descending the stairs. “Let’s drink.” He hoisted a six pack.

 Gabriel’s eyes were still on her, though they were once again crinkled with amusement. But he made no move to reengage.

 ----------------------

 Despite Dean’s declaration, they did not turn away from their research.

 Instead they kept going, with Dean grabbing a chair and a book. And it was sooner than later that the Bunker began to fill with people Riley had only heard about.

 First came Ketch and Charlie. Ketch was exactly what Riley expected. Charlie was…. Not. Riley knew this was not the same Charlie from the brother’s stories, but it was hard not to compare the two. She thought it must be like meeting identical twins. Then Mary Winchester arrived. Surprisingly Mary threw her arms around Riley in a hug. “Hi.” Riley said, voice muffled against Mary’s shoulder. Mary pulled back, and farmed Riley’s face with her hands. “You’re a cute thing. Dean’s told me all about you.” Mary was more affectionate that Riley had thought her to be. But then, Mary was a mother.

 “I hope good things?” Riley chuckled. Mary just smiled and went on to hug her boys, though Riley thought it strange that Sam seemed to somewhat avoid contact with Mary. And only hugged her long enough not to appear odd. Riley wondered what the full story was. She hadn’t gotten that yet.

 There was general chitchat all around, as both Castiel and Gabriel left, returning with Jody, another woman, and three younger girls. The other woman smiled widely, and hugged Riley. “Donna.” She introduced herself, “Sherriff Donna Hanscum.” The other girls were introduced as Alex, Claire, and Patience. They were not the huggy type.

 Jody hugged her though, and this hug Riley was expecting, and looking forward too. Jody was a friend, and Riley’s first real lifeline in this world. “I’m so glad to see you.” Jody said warmly.

 Eventually Sam cleared his throat and drew everyone’s attention. He motioned the table and everyone took seat, turning to him. “Okay, so think we can find the new prophet with a spell. But the ingredients are not exactly run of the mill.”

 “When are they ever?” Ketch murmured, his accent strong with his derision.

 Sam continued like he hadn’t heard Ketch, “We’re spitting the list up by area. And we’ll split off into groups, go get what we can, come back, and if we need to regroup, we’ll regroup.” Sam started handing out list he’d been making. “Let’s talk about two of these first. Hawaii.” Everyone perked up at that. Usually the team went to small towns and dark alleys, not tropical islands. “So the water from where rainbows fall is actually a misnomer, it’s literally rainbow falls. A waterfall in Hilo, Hawaii called Waiānuenue, which translates to rainbow falls. It falls into a small pool that flows over a natural lava cave.” He nodded to Riley as the information had come from her, “According to the lore,” he added, “the lava cave is the mythological home to Hina, an ancient Hawaiian goddess. So, whoever goes, be careful. We’ve met pagan gods before, not all of them nice.”

 Dean sent a pointed glare at Gabriel, who waved his hand dismissively.

 Sam continued, “As to the tears of the earth, the lore actually says this refers to Volcanos. In ancient times, Volcanos were thought to be caused by the earth crying. And in fact, in Hawaii there are small bits of molten lava that cool quickly and solidify into glass particles shaped like tear drops. They’re referred to as Pele’s tears, who is the goddess of volcanos.”

 “So whoever goes to Hawaii might have to face off with two pagan goddesses.” Charlie said thoughtfully. “Could be fun.”

 “Some of the others are simple. A baby’s first laugh.”

 “I can get that.” Alex said, “From the hospital.”

 “The feathers.” Sam said.

 Dean looked over at Castiel. “Cas, can you get several of the angels to give them?”

 “Angel’s feathers are very precious. It is not a simple as it sounds.” Castiel said. “But I will ask.”

 “Rowena’s probably got access to most of the herbs.” Sam added, “But we ought to get fresh, just in case.”

 “That sounds like a job for us.” Jody offered, indicating herself and Donna. “So we don’t have to go too far afield.”

 “The scroll is harder.” Sam said, “We need to make papyrus. It’s time consuming, but we need the reeds first.”

 “Cas?” Dean asked.

 “I will get them.”

 “If you do, I can work on making the scroll.” Mary offered.

 “The ancient tree refers to redwoods.”

 “Oooh. Cali.” Claire said. “I’ll volunteer for that.”

 “The blood.” Sam sighed, “Won’t be hard to get, just unpleasant.”

 “I will do it.” Ketch offered. Not surprisingly, no one else volunteered.

 “Now the other water. It’s a biblical reference. In Genesis, the Bible talks about four rivers flowing out of the garden. The first two are the Tigris and the Euphrates. No one can agree on the other two.”

 “They don’t exist on any maps.” Gabriel said. “But you get water from the riverhead in Eden.”

 “Which goes along with the wax.” Sam added.

 “I can go.” Gabriel offered.

 “Modern day Syria.” Castiel said. “I obtained fruit from there recently. There are djinn.”

 “Eh.” Gabriel said, “No problem.”

 “Then we need that water and the other blessed.” Sam said.

 “Father Luca might be willing.” Dean said.

 “A quick trip to Malta.” Sam said sarcastically. “But yes, he’d probably bless it for us.”

 “What did you guys do before angels?” Claire said half sarcastically.

 “We drove.” Dean muttered.

 With the lists split up, the team started to discuss routes and travel plans. Dean broke out the beer and snacks.

 The angels took off after the list had been divided up. Riley had felt a moment’s sadness as Gabriel departed, but knew they all had things they needed to do. Still, she wished they could talk. They hadn’t had a chance to spend any time together since Boston. And she hoped she hadn’t taken the whole mental flirting thing too far.

Everyone else had stayed at the bunker overnight, and in the morning they’d all headed out to start collecting the ingredients.

Castiel had popped back in the morning to grab and then drop off Mary and Charlie in Hawaii, Jody, Donna and Alex at their homes. Then he headed to heaven to ask about the feathers and on to get the papyrus. Claire and Patience headed to California by car. Ketch had headed to get the blood.

Sam and Dean were going to hold down the fort.

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

Finding herself useless at this point, Riley went shopping with Jack. The kid kind of loved shopping. There were lots of distracting things. And families. He really liked to watch the families. So she’d taken him to the mall.

He needed clothes anyway. He didn’t quite fit in Sam or Dean’s hand-me-downs. And the boys didn’t know much about fashion other than suits and flannel, so she didn’t trust them to take Jack shopping. She giggled, ‘okay, have to retract that. I should give them more credit. Sam and Dean can dress up pretty damn well when they want to. And Dean could probably make a paper bag look good….. but not the point.’  

While Jack was trying on a few pairs of pants and shirt, she was looking through the beauty section. Sighing, Riley popped the top on allegedly coconut scented shampoo and sniffed. She’d been running low on some of her toiletries and took the opportunity to try something new. The department store she was in had a decent variety of things.

The coconut stuff was placed back on the shelf as she moved on. She grabbed one that didn’t have a scent name but seemed to be a salon shampoo with a green label. She opened it and sniffed, grinning. It smelled like skittles. Gabriel would love it. “Not that I’m shopping with him in mind or anything.” She muttered to herself. Yet she found herself putting the skittled shampoo into her basket.

After checking on the kid and changing out one size shirt for another for him, she wandered through the women’s clothing. Spying a rack of tank tops, Riley began perusing. She laughed when she came across a cute black one. It read ‘sweet as sugar’ in gold lettering, with lollipops on either side. Grabbing her size, she shoved in into her basket before she could think about it too hard.

‘I’m going a bit overboard.’ She sighed. But she didn’t put it back.

Jack finished by the time she wandered back the men’s section. He added two pairs of pants and a couple of the shirts to the basket. “Can we look at video games.” He sounded so excited that Riley caved.

“I’ll meet you at the game store.” She said with a smile. He hugged her quick, then turned and hurried off toward the mall entrance. Riley felt a wave of affection, Jack was like a little brother. She had come to care for him. And seeing him acting like a normal kid made her heart happy. Sometimes, secretly, she’d wish he and the Winchesters could just be happy for once. She’d come to care for them all so much and for the rest of the team.

Standing in the middle of the store, she thought of the speech from Lilo & Stitch: ‘This is my family. I found it, all on my own. It's little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.’

 It took her a moment to shake the feels away. But she did and paid for her basket worth of things, and then headed to meet Jack.

[youtiaoshutiao]

translation: shen yue’s and hu yi tian’s long messages about “a love so beautiful”

The day before ALSB aired, Shen Yue posted a heartfelt weibo essay about her experience filming the drama and about her fellow cast members. Just today, two days after ALSB finished airing, Hu Yi Tian also posted a really long weibo post (which if you stalk his weibo, you would find that that is extremely abnormal among the rest of his posts consisting of barely a few words) about ALSB. Just really thought that both posts were super sincere and lovely and felt like translating it, though I’m not sure if other people have already done so. Please excuse any awkward sentence structures!! I tried my best :P

original posts by: shen yue and hu yi tian @ sina weibo

translated by: yt st / youtiaoshutiao @ tumblr 

(All italicised words are additional notes by me)

shen yue: “written for our little beautiful moments” [published on the 8th of November 2017, a day before ALSB started airing]

(Original link: https://www.weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404171872605503107)

I as a person probably have a foible of absolutely having to say a really long paragraph of words before major events happen.

In that case, I’ll begin to speak. Okay… then let’s begin speaking from the auditions of A Love So Beautiful (ALSB).

On that morning of me attending the auditions, to boost my courage, I swallowed half a glass of red wine in one mouthful. But I didn’t expect that my face would flush when I drank alcohol, when I arrived at the audition site, my face had turned as red as Lord Guan (NOTE: Guan Yu, who is often portrayed with a red face in Chinese Opera)…… My manager turned her head around to look at me and got a huge shock, she kept on muttering that we were ruined… It was precisely with this face of Lord Guan that I met everyone’s Teacher Hu (NOTE: referring to Hu Yi Tian).

You guys, don’t look at how I normally appear so quick-witted or write memes on Weibo and think that I as a person am quite ok, actually in real life, once I am faced with a major scene/spectacle/occasion, I become super cowardly. Fortunately, the alcohol that day achieved its purpose, allowing me to be totally fearless even in front of the super handsome guy that Teacher Hu was, and let loose and act.

Following that was a period of endless waiting, I really felt that I waited for an extremely long time. I waited till the point where I began to beg the koi on weibo (NOTE: a common phenomenon on weibo where netizens often reblog a picture of a koi for good luck). Then one morning, I finally received a Wechat message from my manager saying that they had decided on me. I hugged my phone and shrieked while lying on my bed for about three minutes, itching to go downstairs and set off some fireworks.

Later on Teacher Hu told me that actually at the last juncture of finalising who to act as Chen Xiaoxi, his own opinion did have a little bit of impact, and he hoped that I in the future would not forget who had dug the well when I drink water (NOTE: meaning to not forget your benefactor). These words have caused me to feel chills down my back whenever I drink water now.

After entering set without a hitch, I met Teacher Hu, Zi Wei, Sun Ning, Old Gao one after another.

Teacher Hu and I are both people who are slow to warm up to others. To let both of us become familiar with each other quickly, everyone forcefully made us do everything together. Every time Zi Wei, Sun Ning and Old Gao gathered together and chatted with each other passionately, Teacher Hu and I would stand by the side, being so awkward and at a complete loss of what to do, staring into space separately. Later on, I forgot how Teacher Hu and I became close to each other… It probably started when we had a meme/emoticon picture war…. After that we slowly became friends who could share snacks together, and when we became even more familiar with each other we started despising each other (NOTE: this is in jest, hahaha), and we fought with each other everyday.

Zi Wei is a very enthusiastic girl. Just after we added each other on Wechat, she sent me a message: “Chen Xiaoxi! I am your big brother!” Once I saw this style, I felt like it was really compatible with me, and I immediately replied her with a emoticon/meme picture saying “Let’s sleep together when we are free”. I don’t know if she really took it seriously, but sure enough after that she repeatedly invited me to go to her room and sleep together with her…

As for Sun Ning, Sun Ning immediately upon meeting me started to be courteous with me, saying, “Aiya, you’re really adorable.” I also was courteous with him, saying, “Thank you, thank you.” Later on, our conversations often went like this – “You’re really adorable.” “Bah! Who are you saying is adorable? You are the one who is adorable?” “Hey, who are you scolding that they are adorable?” “You are adorable, you’re the most adorable person in the world”… This repeated itself endlessly.

As for Old Gao, I initially really thought that he was really cold, and that he probably didn’t like to hang out with girls. So sometimes I was pretty afraid of acting together with him. Later on we were filming a scene, I was crying really wretchedly and my mucus got onto his clothes. He said, “Chen Xiaoxi, why are you so disgusting?”, then the two of us got into a fight, and after that we were close.

I’m really thankful for all the people I met on the ALSB set. Even though the entire production crew, from the director to the costume people, makeup people and props crew, all seemed to despise me, and all liked to deride me, but they genuinely and sincerely took care of me. I love you guys.

*exhales* lastly, I haven’t seen the final product, and I don’t know how I’ve portrayed my role, so now I’m also really panicky in my heart. Just after we finished filming, the few of us said that if the finalised drama airs and we don’t dare to watch it alone at home, we should arrange to watch it together at an internet café, and we could even roast each other as well. But now everyone has their own matters that they are busy with, and we are all in different cities, so we can’t meet together.

In a true sense, ALSB is Teacher Hu’s and my first time acting in a show. I feel that the producers are really daring to let us act as the main male and female leads. The final presentation may perhaps have areas which people are not too satisfied with, I can only… plead with everyone to pardon me/us more.

Bowing.

hu yi tian’s weibo post [written on the 12th of December 2017, two days after ALSB finished its run]:

(Original link: https://www.weibo.com/3228634923/FyR2kg4qt?type=comment#_rnd1512809496922)

(screenshot of first episode’s title: “Dear Jiang Chen”)

To all audience who like ALSB:

“Hello, I am the actor who portrayed Jiang Chen, Hu Yi Tian.” This period of time, it seems like this is how I am always introducing myself to everyone, sometimes I even will begin to blur the boundary lines between myself and Jiang Chen. In many of the interviews, I am often asked this question – “Do you think you and Jiang Chen are similar?” My answer is also always very certain. How he is very reserved with regards to his emotions, and the many times his words do not actually reflect what he feels, these are the biggest similarities between me and him. Therefore, during the airing period of ALSB, while on one hand, I was really happy about the love that everyone had for ALSB, and the love everyone had for me, on the other hand, I was really nervous in my heart, and I was also feeling overwhelmed from the favour everyone showed me. Just like Jiang Chen in the drama, facing all the “Chen Xiaoxis”, I felt an unprecedented nervousness. Did my present self really deserve this love everyone was showing me, could I properly respond to this love from everyone?

Because actually, as opposed to Jiang Chen’s perfection, I personally am very ordinary. I have an ordinary family background, an ordinary family environment, an ordinary growth trajectory, I spent twenty plus years just being this ordinary. But the airing of ALSB allowed me to have the fortune to come into everyone’s presence, and come into the Mahjongs’ (NOTE: the term for Hu Yi Tian’s fans) presence. This one month plus, I got to know you guys and got to have you guys, your affection and your support also made me become not “ordinary” anymore. Even though I’ve already said words of gratitude many times, but I still want to say, really, thank you so much.

At the same time, I also want to thank my team for handing Jiangchen over to me. For close to two years, we have worked hard together, and came this far today, and we will still walk the roads that come after this together. It is inevitable that the start of a novice’s journey will be chaotic and full of turmoil. I also hope that everyone would give us some more time, believe in me, and also believe that my team will all become even better.

ALSB has reached its finale, even though I don’t want to say goodbye, I still have to say goodbye. However I believe that we will see each other again very soon. In order to match up to this love that you guys have given me, I will work even harder, and improve myself as quickly as possible, to let you guys see an even less “ordinary” me on a bigger screen, then after that, to continue accompanying you day after day. (NOTE: Hu Yi Tian’s name - i.e. Yi Tian, literally means “one day” in Chinese)

[qforqazaq]

Black Dial: The Drama

You've probably heard the latest news from the Q-pop world: L and Teddy are no longer in Black Dial.

Hmm, where shall I start?

***Disclaimer: For the convenience of the foreign fans who aren't sure what has actually happened, I tried to recreate the sequence of events to get some exposition first. I've missed some details here and there, because this was already getting too long.***

It all began when the producers of YB Entertainment posted the announcement saying that the official Instagram accounts of L, Teddy, Ray and Black Dial were hacked, so from now on everything that's going to be posted on those pages has nothing to do with YB. "Okay, the pages got hacked, whatever, it happens, no big deal", I thought. BUT! After awhile I've noticed (first ever) IG stories posted on L's and Teddy's accounts with the actual L and Teddy recording each other while giddily saying something like "Did you know that we were hacked?" - "Lol, no, did we?" - "Yeah, they say we were hacked. I am hacked, you are hacked, comeback is hacked too, hahaha".

Obviously, everyone got even more confused, like, why the hell would the producers call the accounts hacked if they were obviously not. I mean those were real L and Teddy, right?

Meanwhile, I started to read some comments about L and Teddy and something about leaving the group, which got me a huge "Wait WHAT. WTF??? Are you bloody kidding me??" moment.

I obviously couldn't believe my eyes, because, what the hell, first Newton, now Black Dial, are you for real?? When I was about to start doubting these rumours while frantically looking for more info, there came interviews from the official press conference by YB Entertainment.

There, Yesbolat Bedelkhan with Bayan and Bota Yerimbet have formally announced that Yeskeldi Quandyq, formerly known as L, and Samat Kazmaganbet, formerly known as Teddy, were no longer the members of Black Dial, that the company had terminated their contracts, the main reason being consistent violation of the contractual terms by the former members. Moreover, according to the producers, the stage names "L" and "Teddy" and all the social media accounts belong to YB Entertainment and they cannot be used by the members should the contract be terminated.

To say I was shocked is to say nothing. Because, apparently, L and Teddy have not just left the group - they were kicked out. Not only that, they basically kicked themselves out by consistently showing insubordination, disobedience, and violation of terms in many occasions. Without feeling much remorse about it too, it seems, as they didn't look very sad on those Instagram stories - that's for sure.

To make the matter worse, they had no rights to use those Instagram accounts anymore, which explained the earlier announcement about "hacking".

Frankly, that was a lot to take in, and while I was desperately trying to make sense out of whatever was happening out there, all hell let loose. Interestingly - on the producers. Because a horde or rather a flock of angry fangirls or "Ravens" started to shout accusations at the producers, blaming them in all deadly sins. According to them, it was all producers' fault, because they intentionally kicked their "biases" out; how did they dare to be so unfairly strict with them; they were shitty producers in the first place; they should have made their comeback sooner instead of postponing it; the whole "hacking" incident was made to sabotage the members' reputations, and their beloved L and Teddy did the right thing leaving this horrible company.

As for me, these accusations sounded too heated and not very convincing especially when I took a step back and started to actually think about it.

Well, let's break it down, shall we?

First of all, the question of fairness seems super childish, because we're talking about actual legal binding contracts, not some sandbox tantrums that can be resolved by shoving lollipops in kids' mouths. If one signed a contract, it is assumed that both of the parties were aware of and agreed to all of the terms in the first place. In other words, if you in a sober mind signed a legal document, complaining about stuff that you can't eventually commit to afterwards won't work. Why the hell one would even sign a contract in the first place then?

Secondly, do you really think the contract was that strict? Okay, stricter than, idk, a contract signed by the guys from 91? I do very much doubt it. I'm more than sure Yerbolat isn't that chill and understanding compared to his younger brother.

Thirdly, Black Dial is the only active project of YB Entertainment (Darrem doesn't really count) aka literally the company's only flagship product that was supposed to get its long-awaited comeback. Think about it: who the hell in their right minds, in such a crucial moment, would kick out members from the only existing group without a legitimate reason? No one. And there was one reason, a few actually, wasn't there? Moreover, according to Yesbolat Bedelkhan, they've tried very hard to keep the group intact, to smooth out those cases of disobedience and insubordination, closing their eyes to most of them. But I guess, the situation got completely out of control, so terminating the contracts was the last resort.

Fourthly, haven't you thought that the comeback was being postponed over the course of, what, 9 months? exactly because of the internal problems and conflicts inside BD and YB? What if the producers weren't sure if they could proceed should have the said members continued to "misbehave". Which they apparently did, so better cut ties earlier than later, with only one MV, and one more released song.

Next, the "hacking" incident. According to Yesbolat Bedelkhan, sometime around February 14, when BD was supposed to record a video to mark the date, L and Teddy have completely disappeared from radar, not answering anyone's calls and/or messages. The producers even tried to reach their parents at some point, to ask if everything was alright with the boys. Strangely, the parents were not reachable as well, because apparently they have changed their contacts too. Later, the producers discovered that they couldn't access official IG accounts of L, Teddy, Ray and Black Dial, because someone changed their passwords. I suppose it was then they guessed it was L and Teddy's doings, which I assume was the final blow.

Finally, Yesbolat believes that someone from outside have persuaded the boys to sabotage their own places at YB Entertainment. A certain someone with a personal grudge against YB producers. I have my guesses and I won't be surprised if this someone will collaborate with those two at some point in the future too.

Show business sucks, doesn't it.

_________________________________

Don't get me wrong, by making a case for YB Entertainment, I don't want to imply that Yeskeldi and Samat are inherently bad people or anything. Okay, I must admit I had my problems with Teddy and tbh wasn't very sad to know he has left the group (yeah, I'm crude), but I did respect L very much, coming to admire his capacity for songwriting when I took on that challenge at translating their songs (Bul Soni Yemes is a lyrical masterpiece. Period.), regarding him as a very thoughtful young man. Despite personal preferences, I didn't want anyone to leave the group in any circumstances, always hoping and betting on them to settle at least on the second place in Q-pop.

In other words, waking up to a news like this has brought me no pleasure. Further unfolding only left a bitter taste in the mouth and the feeling that you were viciously played.

However, I do still think that it was, pardon my French, totally a dick move to leave everyone and everything just like that, without a decent explanation, a formal apology to the fans at the very least. Leaving by making a public drama out of it, while openly gloating in the social media, abandoning the company, the producers and the other members who counted on them so much.

Was it fair? I think not.

I do wish them luck in whatever they're planning to do though, just to see if it was actually worth the drama, huh.

And I do certainly wish the best of luck to YB Entertainment, to the producers and the remaining vocalists in remedying the whole situation, so to speak.

And what now? Yes, YB is having their casting in search for their new rappers and everything, but what does it tell about the whole "Q-pop movement"?

It's impaled, sick and haven't even grown out legs to stand upright and move properly. People are leaving the groups whenever they want, groups changing the label companies however they want, the entertainment centres are opening and closing at flick of the fingers, and we only have about eh.. 3.5 groups who are actually doing something now? With Black Dial on the resting bed, those would be Ninety One, Mad Men, Moonlight and sort of Newton~. Considering that I'm already very cautious with the latter, skeptical with the second, and Moonlight just doesn't excite me very much, we're coming to the default settings of just clinging to the founders for now while just observing everyone else from the distance.

Nice.

What do you think though? What was the reason for BD having so many problems with its former rappers?

Is Q-pop actually going to crumble to pieces even before it becomes anything substantial?

Feel free to comment and share, and please do leave a like at least. I've been writing this for ages after all.

[theyellowcurtains]

New Years Rec List!

I did one of these a couple months back but I’ve read more since then!

It’s not yet new years, yet I’m doing this now anyways.

These are all amazing fics with such amazing authors. I’d like to say thank you to everyone who does write, read, draw, post, or has any contribution towards this fandom for keeping it alive and giving up content still even after the show is over. Thank you all so much, and I hope that there is still more to come.

(Starred fics are favourites!)

Chaptered Fics!

Come if you remember the way - Teatrolley (Non-explicit sex)

The first time Isak meets Even he’s fourteen, and a moving van is pulling up on the street outside of his house. Four years later he’s standing in an airport with their friends and Even’s parents. Even is going abroad for six months.

Or: Isak and Even are childhood friends who always seem to gravitate towards each other. Then everything else happens

if i knew it were true - smokeshop (@supermanplaining) (Heavy discussion/themes of mental illness)

They’ve both been broken. Even hates his brain and Isak hates his life, and the past is always lurking. Friends With Benefits AU where Isak loves Even and Even loves Isak, but they’re afraid to make it work.

Keep Your Eyes On Me - obscurial (Explicit Sex)

“Okay, I think I’ll start now,” he chirps, smiling widely at the camera, and suddenly, his entire demeanour changes. His smile drops to a sultry smirk, eyes glazed with lust and desire. Even feels a familiar tight feeling in his pants, and without removing his gaze from the screen, he carelessly throws his unwanted jeans onto the ground by his bed.

“Who wants to play with me first?” Isak murmurs, tongue darting out to wet his pink lips.

Isak is a camboy, and Even is a new viewer.

The five people who got to know and love Isak and the one who loved him all along - hannakin

The five people who got to know and love Isak and the one who loved him all along. A tale of Isak Valtersen through the perspective of others.

Vivid in Black and White* - Fxckxxp (@fxckxxp​) (Mild sexual content)

In a Hei Briskeby video prank taken too far, Isak meets Even for the first time down on one knee—asking for his hand in marriage.

ivory* - evenvaltersen (Explicit Sex)

“Would that make you relax? A nice orgasm?” Isak nods, curling up impossibly closer to Even and Even almost wants to cry at the softness of it all, at how tiny and snuggly Isak looks in that pink, too big hoodie. “Alright, baby. How do you want it?”

//or: isak’s stressed. fingering makes him calm down.//

take me as i am - argentae (@minjard​)

He isn’t crushing, and nevertheless this guy has become a Problem, because whenever he’s on shift he’s made it increasingly difficult for Isak to really spend his time productively. Sure, he could just find another place to study but he likes the access to coffee here even though he actually kind of hates the bitterness of it and he’s just not going to let himself get swept aside because of this guy.

In summary: Isak has been suffering. Terribly.

I Feel It When You Look At Me*** - photographer_of_thoughts (@nikkimikki) (Explicit Sex)

“Did you hear about the new guy?” Jonas asked, motioning over to the other side of the cafeteria. Isak looked up and became rather breathless at the sight of the tall, blonde, and totally gorgeous boy wearing sunglasses. Wait. Sunglasses? Inside? “Must suck to be the new transfer and blind. I hope someone is helping him find all his classes.”

Or, Isak and Even learn to see each other.

The Weight Of Us - verlore_poplap (Not sure, may be Explicit Sex, Cheating is there)

Isak finally takes the plunge towards what’s seemed like an inevitability for almost ten years.

Of course that’s when some guy comes along and ruins everything.

—

Isak Valtersen is literally the last thing Even’s life needs right now.It pretty horrifying how hard that is to remember, everytime he’s around.

Blanket Fort Gospel* - Sabley (Explicit Sex)

Isak Valtersen met the love of his life when he was eleven years old. It was a truth he had long tried to deny, but it was the truth nevertheless.

Lovesick* - Sabley (Explicit Sex)

Even is absolutely not making up excuses to take his daughter to see the hot new pediatrician. (Except he totally is.)

Or 5 times Even’s daughter wasn’t actually sick and 1 time she was.

Wish You Were Mine - cuteandtwisted (Pretty sure this just has sex jokes)

“You’re after my heart, aren’t you?” said Even, leaning against the bar counter. “I thought we had already established that,” Isak smiled.

Or Even is Isak's favorite bartender and there's some mutual pining involved.

One Part Wonders! 

Netflix and Chill - colazitron (No smut! Just so sweet omg)

Even's one night stand's bed is far too comfortable to leave the morning after.

can you blow my whistle, baby.* - milominderbinder (@milominderbindered​) (Sex Jokes only)

It's a normal Friday night in Isak's life. Just five guys, hanging out drunk at McDonalds in the middle of the night, talking about blowjobs, trying to deep-throat coke bottles. That sort of thing.

And if floorboards speak, the kiss on my cheek - Teatrolley

Even makes every place feel like home.

Or: Isak and Even’s relationships, throughout Kollektivet’s seven rooms

the right to call this home* - argentae (@minjard​) (So soft)

“I told her about you,” Even tells Isak on a Monday night. They’ve just had dinner and Isak is lying with his head on Even’s lap, complaining about one of his professors (because what else is new).

“Who?” Isak asks, furrowing his brow.

Even looks down on him and raises his eyebrows, waiting for the penny to drop and—

Oh.

Isak sits up so quickly he almost headbutts Even’s chin.

(or four times Isak is nervous about Hanna and one time he isn’t)

For Sonja, With Love - obscurial 

The inscription baffles Isak to his core – who exactly was this Sonja, and what on earth made her want to leave such a beautiful expression of love by his charity shop’s doorway?

(An au where Isak runs a charity shop, and finds one of Even's paintings at his doorstep.)

when i’m close to you (we blend into my favourite colour) - Behindthecities (@vanqoh​) 

In which Isak and Even are boy-friends with a hyphen in the middle. //or the the 5 times Isak forgets that he’s not dating Even and the 1 time he does something about it.

thoughts of unruly curls and plush lips - reasoniwantyoutostay (Explicit Sex)

Isak and Even get consumed by thoughts of each other before meeting up for the Halloween pre-game.

AKA What happened before 21:21

Series!!

Technology - skambition (Explicit Sex)

Basic Summary: Isak and Even’s relationship over years and years and years. The second part of the series covers Even going to school in London and Isak and Even starting their journey in a long-distance relationship. The third part of the series is their life after they stop living so far apart and how their relationship develops over time.

Sesong 5: EVEN - XioNin (@xionin​) (Mentions of: Sex, Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts)

Interviewer: Now we’ve gotten a little Isak and Even clip this season (4) too. But is there something you feel is missing, is there something you’d wish to tell?

Henrik Holm: Through the character Even? Oh my god Even is such a complex character that he should have had his own season. But, now there wont be any more seasons. So I still feel there’s a lot Even could have told, and a lot he could have taught others. Through his story. So of course. I’m sure I could have played this character for years. But it’s weird that it’s over.

I agree, Henrik. This is for you...

Santa, Baby******* - empty_venom (@isyakivaltersen) (Very VERY Explicit Sex, Sub/Dom Dynamics)

Basic Summary: Isak makes Even a special advant calander where each day has a different sex act. It goes through a lot of things, as well as a real life situation disruption. It is all well written and probably one of the best and most committed I’ve seen someone to a series. 

Unfinished!

Alphabet Aerobics - nofeartina (@nofeartina​) (Explicit Sex)

It starts with something Magnus says. Because of course it does.

“I bet you two have the most adventurous sex,” he says and looks at Isak with stars in his eyes.

Do they really? Isak's suddenly not so sure.

Or the one where Isak makes them explore sex using the letters of the alphabet.

When you’re near to me - skambition (Part of the technology series, Explicit Sex)

"Darling, when you're near to me this hope is everything and only you can save the day just because you're here and the world will disappear."

A story about Isak and Even and their beautiful future together.

[elizabethsharmon]

Numbers

Skam Month: week three, day two (tirsdag) ⇾ angst

Read on AO3

If couple of years ago anyone had told him that’s how he would spend his Friday evening now, he would have just laughed at them. But here he was, sitting in the dimly-lit teachers room, checking essays of his students. It was almost 8 p.m. and he still had twelve papers to read and grade. He made himself tea and was now taking a break, looking out of the window. He was deep in his thoughts when he heard a ping . He looked at his phone:

Sana

When can we expect you at home?

So it’s not even “When will you come home?”, it’s already “when can we expect you”.

He started furiously typing I don’t know because I have work to do and it would take me twice as long to do it if I come back home because it’s so loud there and I can’t concentrate and besides you said in the morning that it’s okay because you’ll take care of them tonight so what’s your problem?

He deleted all of this. He could already see in his mind how this conversation would go. Sana would text May I remind you that it was you who wanted so many kids! and then he would write something like So what? Are you telling me you didn’t want to have kids with me? and then they would both regret it and he really didn’t want to fight with her. Especially now.

So he just texted:

I still have some essays to grade, I’ll need another hour or two.

Ping Sana

Okay. Buy some curry on your way home.

He wasn’t sure if she was teasing him or not. On the one hand she had terrible cravings for spicy food lately, which was apparently common for pregnant women, but on the other hand he was sure there were still some red hot chilli peppers in the kitchen so the ‘curry’ thing might be just a subtle way of telling him she’s angry at him.

He shook all these thoughts off his head and started reading another essay. He didn’t even raise his head when someone walked into the teacher’s room.

“What are you still doing here so late?” Vilde asked.

“Midterm essays.” he answered pointing to the pile of papers in front of him. “And you know, I could ask you the same thing.”

“Kosegruppa. Last rehearsal before the Easter break. You and Sana will come to the premiere, right?”

“Mmmm, yes, of course.” he nodded. Vilde was a director of school’s theatre club and she was so excited about their new production and Yousef really didn’t know how the hell did he forget about this. He should have remembered, he was helping them with choreography for the musical number after Act I. He really hoped he put a good poker face and Vilde hadn’t noticed he forgot about it.

“So, how’s it going?” she said sitting with a cup of tea across from him. He looked at her confused and she pointed at the papers he was checking.

“Ugh. Horrible. Please remind me once again why do I even work here?”

“Because they pay better than in the primary school?”

“Yeah, that’s probably it.”

And they needed money. Now that they were expecting twins they needed to find a new place more than ever. And obviously they could buy a bigger house for the reasonable amount of money, but Sana didn’t want to even hear anything about moving to another borough and it’s fair to say that living conditions in Briskeby were not the cheapest. And it wasn’t really like they couldn’t afford it, they would always somehow make ends meet, but Yousef always wanted the best for his family and he knew that three rooms and one bathroom for eight people will not be enough. That’s another reason why he was working on two shifts, after one of the teachers had a nervous breakdown shortly before Christmas he convinced the headmaster not to hire new teacher before the next year and he was now the substitute teacher for political and human rights. Which on the one hand was interesting to get a new perspective how his students think about everything that’s going on in the world right now, but the second shift also meant less time with his family and he hated that. But again – he needed extra money.

“So how is Sana doing?” Vilde asked.

“Uhm, she’s fine.”

“Yeah? So what? Just three more weeks?”

“Yeah. Or maybe even two. No one knows actually, with twins it can all happen much sooner.”

“I admire you guys.” Vilde sighed.

“You do?” Yousef asked confused.

“Yeah. I don’t know how I would be able to raise six kids. You’re superheroes, you know?”

He didn’t know. And he wasn’t sure they were able to raise six kids. He doubted that very much. He couldn’t believe how stupid he was when he once said he wanted to have twelve kids, that would be mission impossible. He was fine with just three, but Sana was teasing him all the time that she promised him they will have a basketball team and she never breaks her word. And then she got pregnant with their youngest girl. And Yousef really thought that’s it. But no. Few months ago when he came back home from work, Sana was waiting for him in the kitchen with dinner, kids were sleeping over at their grandparents’ house. He asked her what’s the occasion and she said that she just became the chief of cardiothoracic surgery department. He was so happy for her, he knew it was her dream for a long time, but soon he noticed that she wasn’t that happy after all.

“What is it? Aren’t you happy, Sana?”

“I am, I am, but… there’s one more thing…”

“What is it, Sana?”

“I’m pregnant with the twins.”

He was completely dumbstruck. He didn’t know what to say. It sort of became the unfortunate routine, actually, her getting pregnant every time she reached another milestone in her career. The first time she got pregnant was during her final year at the university. He was over the moon then, but she wasn’t as excited as he was – she was happy that they will have a baby, but that meant she would have to wait one more year to start her internship. Only after Isak said he’s going to take a year off after university to chill and help Even with his film, Sana started enjoying her pregnancy. She never wanted to admit this, but that was the only reason why she was so anxious about being pregnant then. Having a baby? No problem. Graduating from medical school top of her class just 4 weeks before the labour? She’s Sana freaking Bakkoush, she can do everything. But not starting her surgical internship with Isak Valtersen? Uh-uh, no way. Then after she finished the internship, Isak went on to start the residency program, while she took a year off – because she was pregnant with their son. Finished the residency? Second son was on the way. Finally passed the exams and was officially a cardiothoracic surgeon? Pregnant again. So when she told him she was pregnant with the twins now, he could only think about one thing.

“Sana, please swear to me that if you ever become the chief of surgery or the director of the hospital or whatever, just please promise me that you won’t come back home and tell me that we’ll be having triplets.”

She only laughed at that and now it’s six months later and soon there will be eight of them. And he had no idea how they will survive this. It was already hard with four kids. Last summer for the first time since forever they could fly over to Morocco for vacation. People had no idea how hard it was to travel with four kids, they had to book the whole row of seats on the plane. And now they would have to wait probably another two or three years to go anywhere abroad. But that didn’t really matter, he could survive without travelling and other stuff, he was more worried about how they would manage to take care of everything here and now. Sana would probably be on the maternity leave for a year, but knowing her she will definitely go back to work as soon as possible. And that means that she will start coming back home tired all the time and they will again only spend one day a week together as the family. And thank God, they’ll be having a boy and a girl, because if they were to have twin girls or twin boys? There was no way Sana would know who is who. He remembered one time when Sana came home after 20-hour shift at the hospital and when she laid down half-consciously in bed she just whispered “number 2 needs to go to the dentist and number 3 should be vaccinated soon.” When he teased her the next day that she doesn’t remember their kids names and thinks about them as numbers, he certainly did not expect to see that guilty look on her face. Which only confirmed that she indeed thinks about them as numbers.

“So that’s what we are to you, Sana? Just numbers? One, two, and three? And what am I then, Sana, huh? Am I a patient zero?”

She tried to explain herself, that she doesn’t think about them as numbers, it’s just that she needs to think about thousands of things a day and it makes her easier to remember everything, but this was a really weak explanation for Yousef. He then pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed her a picture of a baby and asked her which one is this. And when she replied – no actually, she didn’t reply, she guessed – he was more pissed off her then before.

“Sana, this isn’t even our baby! This is the daughter of my cousin from Turkey! How can you not even know how your own kids look, Sana?”

They had a huge fight then, they never fought like this before. This was actually the only time they had a proper fight, they haven’t really talked with each other for the whole week, they were just muttering some things about who would pick the kids from the day care or who will go shopping. But after a week of quiet days, he couldn’t do this any longer and wanted to finally make up so he bought a bouquet of bluebells and some ingredients to prepare her favourite soup. But when he came back home, it turned out that she was already there, fixing dinner for them with their kids. The whole kitchen was a mess, kids were throwing flour at each other and if Yousef hadn’t helped them, they would definitely have had to order pizza instead of making one themselves. And he didn’t need to make that soup for Sana, because it turned out she already cooked it for them. It was the first time she actually cooked anything herself and he couldn’t have been more proud of her (even though it didn’t taste nearly as good as his mother’s). After the dinner they talked and promised each other not to fight again like that ever.

But now, few years later, he felt like they were in the exact same place as then. She was staying at home all days and he was working all the time, and that’s probably why she was so mad at him. She hated not doing anything. She wanted to work. She was working all the time as though nothing was going on until the fourth month, then she stopped operating, but was still working at the hospital for the next two months, until finally both Yousef and her OBG made her go on a leave. And he knew how much she hated that she is basically bedridden right now, but there was nothing he could do about that. All they could do was wait.

Vilde got up and put on her coat.

“Okay, I’m gonna get going. I want to visit Julie and Mari on my way home.”

“They’re still living with Magnus?”

“Yeah, it’s better this way. Now that Noora and Amalie are staying over at my place, we wouldn’t have enough space.”

“How’s it going with Noora? Has she talked with him?”

“Yeah, she did. He finally calmed down and let her go, so that’s good. But he also said he is going to fight for the custody over Amalie and Noora’s now terrified that she might lose her.”

“No, she won’t, everything will be fine. There’s no way any court would give him the sole custody.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her, but she says that he has a lot of friends among the judges and she’s just so anxious about all of this that I don’t really know how to help her.”

“Just be there for her. That’s the only thing you can do.”

“I will be.” Vilde smiled and got to the door “Tell Sana I say hi, okay? And promise me that you won’t stay here too long.”

“Yes, professor Hellerud.” Yousef saluted and giggled.

“Goodnight, professor Acar.”

Yousef was really grateful for having a friend like Vilde. He was always jealous of Sana having Isak as her work buddy and since he started working at Nissen, he finally had one of his own. He never thought they would become so close with each other, after all she was Sana’s friend and not his, but she was the first person who helped him once he started working there. At the beginning she always asked him if he wants to go and eat the lunch with her and some other teachers and others would come and go, but he and Vilde would always have lunch together since then. They weren’t the closest friends ever, he still didn’t kind of understood what’s the whole deal between her and Magnus, though Isak tried to explain it to him once – they broke up after the end of high school because Vilde needed space, she then took a gap year and apparently had some life changing experiences living in Barcelona for a year. Magnus was waiting for her all this time, but she came back to Oslo as a totally different person and told him that she still needs time to find herself and he deserves so much more than she can give him so she needs to let him go and he also has to let her go. Since then they haven’t really been in touch until a few years later they bumped into each other by accident and went on a coffee together. After that they started to talk with each other again and after Magnus confessed he still loves her after all this time, they promised each other that if none of them finds anyone before their 40th birthday they will get married. But after her 30th birthday, Vilde really started to envy Yousef and Sana and she wanted to have kids of her own, but she knew how it is to be raised by a single parent all too well and she didn’t want the same for her child and long story short now she has two beautiful daughters with Magnus and they are living across the street from each other. Yousef didn't know all the details, but it seemed like this arrangement fits them.

He tried to get back to grading the papers, but he couldn’t focus any more. He packed the essays to his backpack and decided to go home. On his way back he was trying to decode Sana’s message: did she want curry powder, Indian curry or Thai curry? He had no idea. He remembered there’s and Indian restaurant near the school so he went there and ordered one curry for take-out. If that’s not what she wanted, then he’ll eat it. But he really hoped he made a right guess.

When he came back home around 9 p.m., the TV set was playing really loudly and it’s fair to say that what he saw in the living room was beyond his expectations. Sana was sleeping on the couch, hugging the bowl with popcorn. Their oldest daughter was sleeping on the other couch, with her arms stretched she there was no space left on the couch. Their youngest one and boys were sleeping in front of Sana on the pool mattress that Elias bought for them and they insisted on inflating it three months before their summer vacation just to see if it’s comfortable. Apparently it is. Yousef smiled and pulled out his phone and took several pictures of his family and then made a selfie with them in the background. He is so gonna tease them about that tomorrow. He carried all his children, one by one, to their bedrooms. He would also take Sana to bed, but she was so heavy right now that it would be impossible to carry her there without waking her up. So he just covered her with the blanket and when he wanted to take the bowl from her hands, he heard her whisper:

“Nooo, that’s my popcorn.”

He just chuckled and kneeled in front of her. He could see how she sniffs her nose, she must have smelled the curry. She finally opened her eyes and smiled widely when she saw his face in front of her.

“Halla”

“Hey there” she whispered, stretching on the couch “What’s that smell?”

“Indian curry.” he said, raising the bag with the take-out “I wasn’t sure which one you want and it was too late to get all of them, so I thought I’ll get you the Indian one.”

“Good, because that’s exactly the one I wanted.”

And as soon as she smiled and he saw her dimples, he completely forgot why was he even angry at her in the first place.