#you’re just making your son’s life difficult ffs

[ildiavoloro55o]

Being both a Charles and Carlos fan, the past few days have been exhausting… I have blocked so many anti Charles and Carlos accounts on almost all my social accounts. And I thought you know, the race weekend is done and there’s a two-week gap until the next one and things will a bit calm…

But now, what do you mean Carlos’s mum liked a tweet that was hating/calling Charles dishonourable? I don’t really care much what the drivers’ families do, because I am only here for the drivers and they are their own separate individuals. And whatever the families do shouldn’t reflect on the drivers or be their fault.

But this. This was stupid. Why would you do that? Your son is already not being liked and he had a good weekend (ignoring the robbery). And insulting his teammate who is loved very dearly and your son likes him too or at least considers him as a friend, you’re just making it worse for your son. You are just making him be public enemy number 1 without it even being his fault. Sure, he was already being treated as one by some people, and you’re just adding more fuel to that. Like chill. Stop meddling with your son’s team or whatever. You’re not helping. And this goes to Papa Sainz as well.

And Charles liking the tweet with 2019 Monza Podium picture with caption saying honour… that was so cunty of him! You tell’em baby!

Also, it’s not Carlos’s fault. You can’t blame him for something his parents decided to do.

[willinglyghoulified]

This is extremely interesting because it fits A LOT with my headcanon in my FF about Hancock’s past, and I’m glad I’m not the only one that sees him in this light!

Personally, I went into great detail about the peeling of skin and hair loss, and the degradation of cartilage in the nose and small areas of the ears in my FF. Like, his skin burned so bad, open wounds almost like avulsions of the skin where a few layers had left red, inflamed layers and whatnot, that he couldn’t even wear clothes. In my FF he hides behind a dumpster for DAYS, naked and in pain, wishing someone would pity him enough to put him out of his misery. Many of the chapters I wrote were very difficult to write and the book does have a trigger warning because of these sensitive topics.

He took the radioactive drug because he wanted to die anyway and was counting on it killing him. He struggled with depression being under the rule of Vic and feeling like he had nowhere else to go. And remember, whether it was his choice or not, he was an addict. A POOR addict at that, probably unable to get the caps he needed for his chems, constantly in debt and not paying off his tab at the bar (headcanon). He talked about being a coward, so it would only make sense for him to be too afraid to kill himself and relied on just dying while he was so high that he probably wouldn’t feel it or know it was happening.

He’s prob only been a ghoul for 5-7 years (ten at the most, because he said he settled in Goodneighbor a decade before meeting Sole) so he more than likely doesn’t know much about being a ghoul. He might have discovered by accident while traveling around that radiation somewhat heals him. He probably also heard from local ghouls, like Daisy, that ghouls age really, really slowly to the point of almost living forever. (Daisy is 270-ish but been a ghoul for 210-ish years.) I also like to think that once a ghoul, you kinda exist in this limbo where you’re not hungry, thirsty, tired, etc and immune to illness. The worst part about being a ghoul is people like the Brotherhood assuming that you’re a ticking time bomb waiting to go feral and devour your neighbors, let alone the unsightliness of being a ghoul.

THAT BEING SAID, it is canon that some ghouls HAVE went feral over time. It’s hard to say that that will happen to Hancock at some point, but I believe that when you live a more stress-free life and focus on what makes you happy, you will be less inclined to become feral. I believe prolonged high levels of stress make you go feral. That’s probably also a headcanon, because Bethesda writers are always vague on this subject and leave it to speculation.

Also just to add, my fem Sole mentioned about Hancock and her synth son would never age but she would grow old, and she hinted at wanting to become ghoulified, and Hancock got really upset with her and said abso-fucking-lutely not, that he'd never let that happen to her.

(The fanfic I’m referring to can be found here. 55 parts, all different lengths.)

how do you think the ghoulification process actually went for hancock (like the actually change, when he took whatever the drug was)? and what do you think the hardest part of waking up as a ghoul was for him, like after he'd adjusted to the physical changes and whatnot?

Oooh I hope you didn’t send this too long ago anon this is v interesting.

So, I’m going to say whatever drug Hancock took was a radioactive Krokodil, just to give a real world equivalent. I don’t think ghoulification is as quick and easy as they show in game but given ofc game mechanics they can’t show someone’s skin peeling off and their nose sliding off like hot pepperoni on a pizza. Being it’s a drug though I definitely feel like it was sped up; he probably woke up looking like all hell and his body went through aggressive changes over a few months, and going w that the drug was some heroin equivalent a lot of scratching and picking and open not healing sores sped up the process. Truthfully I would love to see the 3/NV version of Hancock with tufts of blonde hair and maybe his skin is all mottled and burgundy. (I hc a usual ghoul takes a year to really get from full human to full ghoul, no nose, ear stubs, etc and things like voice might take longer to deteriorate. The characters in the Pitt are in betweens for example. )

Ghoulification was as favorable for Hancock as ghoulification can be; it really annoys me in fanworks that a lot of people write ghouls as if they’re just like humans and becoming one is nbd. I feel like from the game itself you can tell it’s not an easy decision and most people wouldn’t willingly choose it, wanting to live forever or not. Hancock in game has a lot of tells that show he’s a younger ghoul: he uses the terminology in weird ways (soft skin), he makes a lot of ‘all other ghouls do this except me’. I.e. When reading a comic book Hancock will say something to the extent of reading being a ghouls best friend, bc nobody will talk to them, except him, dashing Mayor Hancock of course… he’s also the only LI who is like “why yes I’ll hop on that d” the first flirt option in. He’s used to being a very attractive, very charismatic man. (See Irma’s terminal.) the reality is being a ghoul isn’t pretty and the hardest thing for Hancock is the blow being a ghoul does to his self-esteem. Sure, he doesn’t have to live with his face anymore, but running from your problems just puts you into other ones. Yeah, he can probably still fuck a lot of people, he’s got the voice and charisma, but the final romance option and Hancock lets it open that, hey, why would anyone want to be long term with him, want to actually love him? You could argue he had this insecurity that people only wanted to sleep w him before ghoulification but I don’t buy it bc if he was handsome, the same romantic as before, and had the same personality pre-ghoulification I can’t see why someone would pass on him. So a very confident guy suddenly doesn’t know where he is, and being only 10 years into a ghoul (consider: Moira brown, who barely realizes she’s a ghoul. Older ghouls who are like lmao who gives a fuc *detaches finger*) he is still a babby ghoul trying to find his place, which is kind of scary for a guy who previously never had to deal with, say, someone fucking w him because he might be their fetish.

[binniedeactivated]

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧. || 🌪💦

[ m.list ]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐏𝐎𝐂 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐮

𝐖/𝐂 |  4k

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 | 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫-𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

 POC = person of color

a/n; should this be a ff?

adriana didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did. her dirty thoughts never stopped ever since he walked into her kindergarten classroom that one morning. with his sleek parted blonde hair, tall physique and lush pink lips she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him day in and day out. she had a job to do of course. teach the children, take care of the children and make sure each and every one of them were safe.

but myla rose’s father looked nothing like any man she had ever seen before. and it was a pity that his ring finger was occupied. that made her attraction to him even more difficult at the school’s open house.

adriana greeted every parent who stopped inside her classroom, guiding them to their child’s work display and giving short reviews of their performance in class. she was an excellent teacher. one of the school’s favorite in fact and every child loved her. the parents were always pleased with her enthusiastic attitude and compassion for their child. and this was evident especially when myla came running to hug her legs at the door.

“Hi ms. A!”.

in awe, adriana hugs her gratefully. “hey myla!”.

she glances up and with a warm smile the man takes her hand. “good evening, I’m choi yeonjun. myla’s dad”.

adriana smiles back a little harder than normal but she tried her best to conceal it. to her demise though, yeonjun didn’t come with just his beloved daughter.

“this is my wife, leah. our eldest son daniel. and this little guy right here--“.

yeonjun pauses for a moment to squat next to the baby stroller that his wife was pushing. he lifted the top of it a little, revealing the small one year old child who was currently dressed in a brown furry onesie with a dog ear hood. he sucks cutely on his blue pacifier glancing upwards at his father in wonder and being immediately surprised by the splashes of color around the classroom. he looked just like yeonjun.

“this is our youngest son logan”.

adriana smiles and coos at the younger child, “aww he is adorable. myla why didn’t you tell me about your little brother?”. she directs to the small girl with a  pink ribbon wrapped around her ponytail. she rolls her eyes.

“because he’s annoying”. she says with more attitude than she ever showed in class. adriana laughs.

“nice to meet you leah. and hey daniel”. she greeted the eldest. he looked to be at least 8 years old. not very far from myla. he waves shyly, burying his face into his father’s chest. how lucky leah was, to have a family with yeonjun. as a single woman, dealing with families was always hard. it’s just what adriana wanted especially at this stage of her life.

“well, first things first myla is a pleasure to have in my class. she is always doing her work diligently like I ask and she’s always the first one to answer questions when it’s time”.

yeonjun nods in approval rubbing his daughter’s back as they were then guided to myla’s work display. he was here for his daughter he had to remember that. especially when his eyes kept slipping below adriana’s waist as she walked. but it was something about the way she walked. she walked like she wanted to be seen. as if she were inviting yeonjun’s eyes to admire her every curve. nevertheless he snaps his eyes back up whenever she turned around.

“and right here is myla’s art work, her math work, and her reading caterpillar. as you can see she really loves watercolors. her math work is outstanding. she grasps every concept I teach. and her reading caterpillar--eh it can be longer”. she playfully laughs. she tried to make the conversation as general as possible but with leah on her phone pretending as if she had no care in the world adriana’s only focus was on yeonjun who, didn’t hesitate to give an unforgiving stare into her eyes every time she talked.

adriana was an afro-latina beauty. black spiral curls dropping just above her mid back, deep set brown eyes, and full sensuous lips that anyone wanted to kiss with just one glance. and yeonjun took advantage of admiring her every chance he got.

“and um,” she fidgeted. “for each book she reads she gets a segment added onto to her caterpillar. the first student to become a butterfly wins a prize”.

“you hear that myla? don’t you want a prize?”. yeonjun cooed holding her hand. she nods excitedly. “yes!”.

“you have to start reading more okay? see look, your caterpillar is short”. yeonjun pointed at the green bulletin board. “can you buy me more books daddy?”. she asks in the soft voice that she knew would touch his heart.

“you already have enough stuff myla”. daniel chimed in, annoyed. wanting nothing more than to go home and play his play-station already.

“hey! you have stuff too”.

“you’re always asking for the most”.

“so what! daddy will buy it for me”.

“that doesn’t mean you have to ask all the time”.

“but--”.

“guys. enough. we’re not at home we’re at an open house”. yeonjun settled. all the while leah just stood there just as annoyed as them. she could’ve helped yeonjun calm the kids down but she didn’t. she didn’t even seem interested in myla’s work nor her progress. much less wanting to be there in the first place.

“I’m sorry,”. yeonjun apologized. “my kids are spoiled”.

adriana chuckles. “it’s alright I understand”.

“so how are myla’s grades? is she getting along with the kids okay? I know she can probably be a little chatty”.

“oh myla’s grades are amazing. she’s great with the other kids, rather a leader. she’s only chatty when I allow it”.

yeonjun hums in approval. “good job baby”. he coos to her. he pays his attention back to adriana though. “she loves you. she always comes home with stories about what game you played with them or what you taught them that day”.

“oh really?”.

yeonjun nods. “yeah she does. you’re a phenomenal teacher. thank you for taking good care of her”.

“thank you yeonjun. it’s no problem I love these kids like they’re my own”. adriana spoke, sinking into the hypnotics of his lustful gaze. the one that made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.  “she’s a pleasure to teach”.

“thank you for this. so um--we go to the gymnasium now right?”.

“yeah, do you need help finding it?”.

“no it’s alright, I think I saw it on my way in. thank you though”.

“no problem. I hope you guys have a nice rest of your evening!”. she smiles sweetly.

“you too”, yeonjun nods, nudging his wife to push the baby stroller before they turned to leave. and adriana instantly wondered what he saw her in her. she was beautiful. but she wondered why he loved a woman with such an attitude. perhaps they had argument beforehand that she didn’t know about. but even that wouldn’t explain how careless she looked about her family.

and she was almost too careless. yeonjun could feel his adrenaline rushing at the sheer thought of fucking someone new. it’s been a while since him and his wife had any kind of sex. she’d always blame it on the fact that she was tired and would postpone it to another night. but yeonjun had needs and once he saw adriana he became desperate once again. he didn’t want to ruin his marriage. god knows he didn’t.

but things in the choi household never went how yeonjun wanted it to go.

“give me back my controller myla!”. daniel shouts.

“no! you shouldn’t have cut the hair off my dollie! now your controller is going in the toilet!”. the smaller girl runs to the bathroom and locks the door behind her, leaving daniel angrily banging on it in agony. “stop it myla!!”.

“no I’m flushing it away!”.

all the commotion in the next room over was enough to startle logan, who was sleeping so soundly leaving yeonjun thinking that he was out for the night. but he wasn’t in this case. now he was crying and screaming to the top of his lungs and rattling his hands wanting nothing more than his father’s warmth. 

daniel races to the kitchen, “daddy!! get myla she’s trying to flush my controller down the toilet!”. he screeches to his father who happened to be cooking over the stove top. “what do you mean she’s trying to flush it?”.

“get her! my controller is going to be broken!”.

overhearing the baby crying yeonjun rushes down the hall to get him, slowly lifting the infant out of his crib. still sobbing, the baby clings to his sweater and yeonjun shakes him gently hoping that his presence would be enough to calm him. but he could still hear daniel banging his fists against the bathroom door. yeonjun scrambles into the hallway and fiddles with the door knob.

“myla open up this door right now. you two are being too loud you just woke up your brother”.

“daddy?”. she asks innocently.

“yes this is daddy open up the door”.

there was faint shuffling on the other side of the door before she opened it. daniel gives a sigh of relief at the sight of his game controller sitting on the bathroom sink away from the toilet. myla glances up at her father with big eyes and the cutest face she could give. she’d do anything to avoid her father’s wrath.

“I wasn’t really going to flush it daddy”.

“give your brother back his game controller. why are you messing with him?”.

“he cut all my dollie’s hair off!”. she points, stomping her foot for good measure.

yeonjun looks back at his eldest son sternly. “daniel? why would you do that?”.

“daddy she’s always teasing me and being annoying”.

“give me the controller myla”.

she strolls to the sink and pushes the controller in her father’s hands while crossing her arms. yeonjun turns, “I’ll give you this controller but if i find out that you’re sabotaging myla’s toys again I’m selling your play station. If she’s annoying you come tell me so I can deal with her. I spend a lot of money on this stuff daniel”.

he huffs his breath with his back against the wall. “fine”.

“and myla,”. he turns, “if I find out that you’re trying to destroy your brother’s stuff again I’m selling your dolls. I spent a lot of money on that too”.

she gives a sigh that was identical to her brother’s. “fine”.

“good. you guys go play. where’s your mom?”.

“she said to tell you that she had to go someplace and that she’ll be back soon”. daniel exclaims while walking to his room. yeonjun checks his phone lock screen wondering where did she have to go at 9 o’clock at night. and the crazy part about it is that this isn’t the first time she’s done this.

“daddy?”. myla murmured fiddling with her fingers. yeonjun hadn’t notice she never went to her room.

“yes?”.

“can you buy me a new dollie? since daniel ruined my last one?”.

“yes. but stop teasing your brother so much and maybe he won’t mess with your stuff”.

“yay!!”.

“go on your ipad and pick one out. after you’re done show it to me okay?”.

“okay!! thanks daddy!”. she jeers, scurrying to her room already having the perfect doll in mind. yeonjun sighs, now looking at his messy haired baby boy who inches his tiny fingers up to press on yeonjun’s bottom lip.

“are you ready to eat logan?”. he asks in spite of the chaos that was going on in his mind. throughout the night he was calling leah consistently and she never picked up, her phone going straight to voicemail. so it was up to yeonjun, pretty much like it was every night. for him to cook dinner, for him to feed and change the baby, for him to make sure the kids are washed and ready for school the next day. and as frustrated as yeonjun was he always made sure he got everything done with or without her.

he was laying logan down in his crib for the night, the sleeping baby’s head falling tiredly into his pillow. he kisses him on his forehead and his cheeks before he heard the front door open and close.

making his way downstairs he spotted leah walking into the house, no--stumbling into the house with her work attire on. he approaches her before she could knock the kitchen chair over.

“leah? what is wrong with you? where were you?”. he whispers. she gives him a solemn glance trying to make herself look sober. it was failing miserably.

“I had to finish some stuff back up at the office yeonjun. don’t start”. she kicks her heels off at the door.

“don’t start? you’re never here. when are you ever going to be here? the kids see you once in the morning and then somehow you disappear for the rest of the day”. 

“I just told you where I was. I’m going to bed now. I don’t feel like talking about this”. she brushes past him making her way to the staircase. the things yeonjun wanted to say to her-- but he bit his tongue. he didn’t want to pour his heart out just for her to leave him single and alone. had that been him coming in late and drunk she would’ve raised hell. accusing him of cheating and trying to kick him out the house. with three kids, the last thing yeonjun wanted was to be alone. it stressed him out. 

and adriana saw it all over his face.

“hey, um- myla left her lunchbox in the car I just wanted to drop it off”. he approaches the vacant classroom-- the kids playing outside for the hour with the P.E teacher. adriana softly smiles at the man whom she wasn’t expecting to see so early in the day.

“hey yeonjun. no problem you can just sit it right there on her desk”. she guides. she was at the back of the classroom stapling work to the bulletin board.

“are you okay? you look a little stressed”. she adds.

“yeah I’m fine you know--just kids. they’re a handful sometimes. I’m sure you understand”.

“of course! I know how they can be at school. i don’t have any of my own though so I have no idea how they can be at home”.

hm, so she didn’t have any kids. yeonjun was annoyed with himself for even taking note of that. even worse, wondering if she was single.

“imagine a 24 hour school day. that’s exactly what it’s like”.

adriana chuckled. “god that’s brutal”.

“it is. you’ll find out for yourself soon enough. whenever you and your significant other decide to have children at least. it’s a world you haven’t known”.

she hops off of the stool to grab another sheet of paper to staple. she chuckles a little, “i hope this doesn’t sound weird but i actually look forward to that. whenever I actually get a significant other”.

yeonjun nods his head in disbelief. he wondered how a woman so beautiful with such an enthusiastic, compassionate attitude could be single at all. maybe she had a secret past yeonjun knew nothing about. perhaps she’s a psychopath. maybe even a gold digger.

but with the way she carried herself, in confidence but with humility, it attracted yeonjun he wouldn’t care if she was both.

“you’re single?”. yeonjun blurted out, wanting to smack himself for thinking out loud. she grins.

“why do you sound surprised?”.

while she stretches her arms up yeonjun stares at the small dip in her back and swallows. “well because you’re gorgeous”.

she steps off the stool again stifling a blush. she toys with the stapler in her hands.

“thank you and if i’m not mistaken it kind of sounds like you’re flirting with me”. she accuses, the cute grin of hers twisting into an innocent smile.

yeonjun breathes. it’s been years since he flirted with anyone other than his wife. but with the stress he was feeling nowadays he was willing to take any type of chance he could. he approaches her,

“it’s because I am”. he reassured, looking down at her hoping she felt the same way. only if he knew how much she thought about this moment, he’d take her right then and there. she pushes her face closer to his teasingly.

“aren’t you a married man? choi yeonjun?”. she licks her lips at the up close sight of his.

 “please don’t mention my marriage while you’re licking your lips at me like that”. he monotones.

“or what? hm?“.

he grins, bending lower to hover his lips over her ear. “don’t test me adriana“.

his words sent chills down her spine. her heart races and before she could say her next word he was already glaring into her eyes soon after. he places his fingers at the bottom of her chin forging her attention on him.

“kiss me”. he demanded.

she clutches his wrist, half leaning in and half hesitant. she was uncertain. he had a wife. a family. children. but he was sexy and she could already feel her panties clinging to her now sticky folds. his lips were halfway there but he had other plans.

he sticks two fingers between his pretty pink lips while maintaining his gaze. adriana could feel her legs turning into jelly at the streams of saliva that slipped in between them and running down his hand. when they were finally drenched with the contents of his tongue he pulls them out and instead sticks his messy hand directly into her panties.

her lips parted and she tensed immediately, not gasping the air but gasping in his mouth---because it took almost nothing for yeonjun to pull her into a wet heated kiss. her lips felt just as yeonjun though they would. soft and full. she whimpered in delight as her tongue lolled into his hot mouth. his fingers slid through her slick liquid so easily, she was practically gushing for him and all he was doing was tracing his fingers around the circumference of her clit, not wanting to give her too much too soon. but the lighter his fingers were the more she twitched up into his hand. she wanted so much more. she needed so much more. her mind went blank.

“y-yyeonjun”., she mewls before he roughly sticks his tongue down her throat. she waited until she got another speck of air. “you’re m-married”.  she partially wanted to warn, mainly because she didn’t want him to do anything that he was going to regret. he only let his fingers do the talking,  allowing them to travel into her channel, pumping them into her gradually. she does that little innocent gasp again. the one that yeonjun likes, the one that made her seem like she’s never been touched before. the euphoric waves his fingers gave her was like venom, swimming through her nerves and making her legs tremble.

his hand searches for the back of her thigh and he lifts her leg around his waist, widening her legs.

“you’re thinking about my marriage and I’m thinking about pounding you into this fucking table”.

he watches her face contort in pleasure and he smirks. he couldn’t deny the hard on she gave him by her measly moans alone. she sounded so helpless and needy for more of him. she was dripping down his fingers and it took every instinctual part of him to not unbuckle his jeans. she pressed her body into his like a bruise, gasping into the crook of his neck as his fingers delve deeper into her. “ohh m-my god please ddon’t stop”.

pulses of arousal amended around yeonjun fingers and he sloppily kisses her hungrily. she steadily grinds her hips into his rhythmic thrusts in need.

“just like that adriana, fuck my fingers”. he groans into her mouth, she wondered if it was possible to get wetter at the sound of his voice. if not, she was definitely pulsating harder than before after he said that. with a shaky hand she reaches down to unzip his pants. “pplease fuck me I need it”. she whines, not being able to withstand anymore of the finger fucking. she wanted to be stretched. “pplease make it quick I have to go get the kids in 7 minutes”.

yeonjun lets her undo his pants, he enjoyed her desperation for him. it was hot and it was something he wasn’t used to. leah was never like this. but adriana was a woman who knew what she wanted and who she wanted it from. so it wasn’t as embarrassing for her to slide down on his dick the way she did. she was turned, her back facing his front where yeonjun could see her ass swallow his dick whole. he wasn’t going to fuck her initially since this was their first  sexual interaction. but he was hard and she was needy so he didn’t care anymore.

the setting quickly fades from his mind while he watches her bounce against him wildly. his breathing becomes weighty and he grips her waist in absolute heaven, her slick sheathing his dick faithfully. he hid his bottom lip behind his teeth to produce a curse word but couldn’t quite get it out entirely; everything felt so fucking amazing and unbelievably so. broken curse words fluttered from his throat.

“fu--fuckk”. he utters with a low grunt. with her own electricity shooting through her veins and torso obscene moans fled from her lips and yeonjun clasped his hand over her mouth before she could get any louder. he had no intentions on getting caught but on the other hand it was hot hearing her unable to control herself.

her hips rolled down as she took up a measured pace riding him, her thighs burning but her movements were pleasing the both of them and the way yeonjun smacked her ass in praise gave her every reason to keep going. he soon met her thrusts by gripping her ass and grinding against it, chasing the orgasm that wouldn’t come if she kept going at the same pace. “ohh my god”. she hissed. he was gripping her ass rough enough to leave a significant bruise. not that adriana cared anyway, it would be an honor to be bruised up by yeonjun.

“god I’m going to fucking cum all over you”. she whines, reaching down to play with her clit along the way. yeonjun fucked into her a bit harder, exhaling all the choked up groans he withheld until her juices was spilling down his dick with ease. she trembles, wiggling her ass on him a bit longer before rushing to pull her panties up and look presentable for the rest of the school day. she was shocked to see that yeonjun was still hard as a rock, yet he was zipping up his jeans.

she clutches her clipboard, totally not expecting yeonjun to grab her from behind and kiss her on the cheek the way he did. she felt his bulge pressed against her backside.

“next time ride my dick until I cum”.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Skyline Manor by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 12/13

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 12: Surprise

Emma felt the world around her disappear the moment Killian’s fingers threaded into her hair, his lips hot against her mouth as his tongue slid across her tongue. Emma couldn’t stop the groan that left her mouth when his hand trailed down her back, resting on her hip as he pulled her closer against him.

It was everything she had dreamt about and nothing she was prepared for. She had kissed him twice before, and he had returned her want with his own desire, but this was different. This was desperate yet deliberate and everything that terrified her.

“Swan.” He groaned. Her mouth brushed against his jaw.

“Don’t ruin it.” She nipped at his neck, her breath hot against his skin.

“We need to talk about this.” He moaned as her teeth grazed his ear.

“Do we really?” Her mouth was on his again, and he returned her attack with fever. “Can’t we just enjoy the moment for once?” She mumbled against his lips.

“What if the lad returns?” Her mouth continued its attack, as he tried to speak, her lips grazing his neck. His fingers were on either side of her neck as he pulled away. “Emma.” The look on his face was serious and she pouted as she sat back, dreading his next words. “I can’t give you what you need.”

“It seems like you have exactly what I need, or do you really not know what I need?” She mewed.

He narrowed his eyes. “From this vantage point, I think I have an idea, but I’m talking about long term. I told you I can’t…”

“You can’t have a relationship because you made a promise to your brother while drunk off your ass, a promise that you made out of some sense of guilt because a woman chose to stand on lies rather than be brave enough to stand up for the love that was given to her willingly.”

“Emma, a dalliance with me will only bring you pain and sorrow.”

“Or something worth breaking a promise for.” She said softly, her fingers ghosting across his chest, leaning forward to kiss him once more.

“Emma…” His voice was a plea, she was uncertain if it was in protest or mercy. And then his hand snaked in her hair, pulling her closer to him, his mouth hot against her jaw.

Mercy it is.

She clung to him as if her life depended on his next breath, she inhaled his scent, her body reacting to his every movement and touch. She was terrified of the way he made her feel, but even more frightened of him walking away. She could feel his hand under her shirt, hot against her flesh.

“Killian.” She breathed. “We are on a rooftop.” She said with a timid laugh, as he withdrew his hand from her shirt.

“So we are, love.”

She placed both of her hands on either side of his face. “What are we doing?”

“I believe they call it making out, Swan.”

~*~

“Do you think it’s been enough time?” Henry asked impatiently as he sat on the other side of the door to the rooftop.

“I haven’t heard any yelling, perhaps your plan has worked, lad.” Will replied.

“I’m gonna let them out.” Henry stood, turning the lock on the door, and prying it open slowly. As he peered through the opening he saw his mother and Killian sitting next to each other talking. They turned toward him, standing from their spot.

“Henry.”

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, tentatively stepping toward them.

“Of course, not lad. Your mother and I had a pleasant talk.”

“You did?”

“Yes, but Henry, you have to stop doing the things you’ve been doing, faking being sick, locking us on the rooftop.” His shoulders slumped. “Killian and I are friends.”

“Just friends?” He said with a pout.

“Look I know things have been difficult lately and confusing with what happened between me and Graham.”

“That wasn’t confusing, you didn’t belong with Graham. You just needed to realize it first.”

“Henry…” His mother started as Killian knelt in front of him, brushing his bangs from his forehead.

“Lad, I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I promise you that. You and I will continue to be friends, Smee would miss your visits, as would I.” Killian spoke to the boy, and he simply smiled.

“But you two belong together.” He whined and Will stepped up behind him.

“You and I will talk about your assistance in this later.” His mother warned Will.

“Come on Henry, let’s go get ready for bed.” Will said, leading Henry down the stairs. With each step, Henry tried to ignore the pain in his heart as he was taken back to his apartment in defeat.

~*~

The moment the boy was gone, Killian pulled Emma against his chest. “Are you sure this is the right way to do this?”

“You saw him, he’s so invested in what will happen between us. Can you promise him that things are going to work out?”

He frowned; he didn’t know what was going to happen between them. But when she asked him to take it one day at a time, to hell with the titles or commitments, just see where things took them, he couldn’t tell her no. Yet he couldn’t be certain that he would get any further than he had with Belle.

It would pain him to hurt the boy if things didn’t work out with his mother. So instead, they agreed to take it slow, privately. “You’re right, I just hate lying to the boy.”

“I know, and we won’t keep it from him forever, we just, we need to figure out what this is first. Just you and me, without everyone else’s interference. Besides, he’s been hurt enough.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, “Then I look forward to figuring things out.” He mused.

~*~

Captain Jones sat at a table in the corner of the tavern, sipping liquid from his stein. Each time the door opened, he peered toward the lit opening at each new inhabitant that entered the tavern. He didn’t dare wish to see the woman with the golden hair, yet he was disappointed each time she wasn’t there. He sighed, slamming his mug down on the table and prepared himself to return to the Jolly.

“Leaving without saying goodbye, Jones?” He turned quickly to face the hooded figure seated at the table next to him, the back of their green clock slipping slightly as the woman leaned back tipping her stein of beer into her mouth.

He looked around the tavern before walking to her table, dropping into the seat in front of her. “Venturing out of the castle unescorted again, Princess?” He chided.

She smiled and her sea green eyes danced with a playful glare. “And I thought we made a connection.” She continued. “Yet I had to hear about your departure from my son.”

“I shall send my condolences to the Duke; I hear he is without a wife.” He said playfully.

“It was never my intention to marry the Duke.”

“Dare I say I am shocked, M’lady.”

She sighed before continuing the conversation. “What awaits you in Arendelle? A dragon? A quest? Perhaps a lover?” She asked softly, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

“I fear I have an ailment. I have been bewitched; dare I say cursed.”

“What malady has befallen you, Captain?”

“There is a woman, so beautiful and alluring, yet she is not mine to have, and I fear that in the absence of this woman, no other being can satisfy my needs in her stead.”

“Surely, a man such as yourself, there must be a way for you to have this woman?”

“I fear that is not possible, her station makes her unavailable to me.”

“Perhaps she is not interested in her station, perhaps all the pomp and circumstance are of no interest to her. What then?”

The Captain’s smirk grew on his face. “She would be leaving a life of privilege for one of simple means. A bed, some wooden planks, and a sunset are all that a man such as myself have to offer a woman.”

“That all sounds very lovely.” She smiled. “But that is not all you have to offer this woman, is it?”

“Adventure, unexpected surprises, perhaps the love of a man who would desire and care for her like no other in his life.”

The Princess shook her head. “You speak freely of love, yet you did not intend to say goodbye.”

He smiled. “I had hopes that I would not need to.”

The Princess shared a nod of understanding, she knew what this would mean for her. “What of my son?” She spoke softly.

“We spoke this morning; he has asked to join my crew.”

Her head snapped up, “He did what?”

“Aye, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I would welcome a man like Henry aboard my ship, someone I could trust. But I also would not allow it without his mother’s consent.” The Princess seemed lost in her thoughts, so he continued. “Perhaps if his mother were to join him, for his safety of course, it would make her decision easier.”

“And what would we tell him of my presence?”

“That I offered you both adventure, and you were bound to seek it.”

“My brother will never permit it.”

“Are you not Princess Emma of Bostonia?”

“You know that I am.” She laughed.

“Then I do not think your brother would dare keep you from doing anything that pleased you.”

She smiled, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Then we should tell Henry at once.”

“I think that shall be an easy task.” The Captain gestured to the corner of the tavern, a man sitting alone in the corner booth.

He stood and the Princess rushed to his side. “Henry, what are you doing here?”

“I am my mother’s son.” He looked between his mother and the Captain. “When does our adventure begin?” He asked with a grin.

~*~

The next few months has been a blur for Emma. She and Killian spent many stolen moments sneaking around, spending time together, avoiding being caught by her son. Even with it all being new there was something particularly exciting about stealing kisses or shared glances that no one else could see.

In the evening, Killian would join them for dinner, Henry would tell them stories about his day, talking nonstop as if he had known Killian his entire life. Emma would watch the two of them after dinner, joysticks in hand as they fought whatever nonsense was on the screen and she knew with each new memory they created she was falling in love with the man.

During the day, Killian would show up at the diner, a flower in hand as they sat and enjoyed their lunch. Sometimes they spent hours just talking about nothing and everything.

“One day I want to go on a trip to nowhere.” She said with a laugh.

“How does one go on a trip to nowhere?”

“Haven’t you ever just wanted to take your bike and head out on the farthest road and drive until you decide to stop? No destination in mind.”

“So, you’re just with me for my bike.” He teased.

“I have had dreams about that bike.”

“Have you now, Swan? Do tell!”

“Maybe when Henry goes to Neal’s this weekend, I’ll show you.” She winked. Emma felt giddy with excitement, this would be the first time they would be alone without Henry.

“I have it on good authority that Belle and William are going to the movies on Saturday.” Killian’s hand rested on her knee under the table.

“Is that so? I believe Ruby told me she has a date.”

“Then we are truly on our own.” His eyes were boring into her, his pupils dark, a slight twitch of his lip that had her heart pounding.

“What ever shall we do?” She smirked.

His hand traveled up her thigh, warmth spreading through her as she watched his Adam’s apple bob at his throat, he swallowed, his eyes trailing up her body until they met hers. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”

~*~

Killian went in search of Henry’s book; he was sure he left it at his apartment the last time they came to dinner, but Killian had been unable to find the book the night before he was to go to his fathers. After an evening of searching his room, the book had still not been found.

And so Killian found himself crawling on his living room floor, his dog bouncing around him, his tongue hot against his ear. “Ok boy, I get it, I love you too.” Craning his neck, he peered under the couch, his phone shining a light in his hand.

“There you are!” He reached under the legs, dragging the book out from under the couch.

Henry would be pleased to have his book with him during his visit with Neal. Killian hated that the boy had seemed so downhearted about his visit. Neal had once again taken a trip out of town the past three months, and Killian had spent that time distracting the boy from the disappointment his father continued to present.

As he stepped into the hall, book in hand, he saw the man exit the elevator. He gritted his teeth as he made his way back to the apartment, stopping in front of the door. “Neal.” He said curtly.

“Must be my lucky day.” He mumbled under his breath, staring at him as he waited for someone to offer him access to Emma’s apartment. “Can I help you with something, Keith?”

“It’s Killian.” He corrected. “Did you have a good trip to… where was it that you went this time?”

“I fail to see how that’s any of your business.” The man complained.

Killian narrowed his eyes. “That boy may appear to be happy living in his own fairytale world.” He paused before raising his brow. “Did you know that he creates his own stories, I suspect about the people in his life.”

“He does a lot of strange stuff.”

He took a step toward the man. “He does what he must in order to be alright with the disappointment he continues to be afforded. One must ask though, do you want to be the hero in his tale, or continue to be the villain?”

“I’m his father, do you really think he’d make me the villain?”

“That depends on your actions. Perhaps you should spend more time being interested in the strange stuff you think he does, and less time using him to advance your love life.”

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you have no right talking to me like this.”

“I earned that right when I spent my time wiping his tears, mending his cuts, listening to him talk about his hopes and concerns, and regardless of my feelings toward your parenting skills, the boy truly loves his father. So, it is my hope that you rise to his expectations instead of meeting my assumptions.”

The door opened behind him, and Henry came bounding out the door. “You found it.” He said with glee, grabbing the book from Killian’s hands.

“Aye, it was under the couch.” He glanced toward Neal before stepping into the apartment. “Did you get the Blu-ray you wanted to share with Neal?”

“Oh yeah.” He said excitedly. “Mom bought me the next season of Once Upon a Time, can we watch it?”

“It’s a good tale, Neal. Even villains earn their happy endings in this one.” Killian said with a knowing wink.

Emma came from the back room, staring at the three of them at the door. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were here Neal.” She turned toward Killian, “I can’t find the book…” Looking at Henry, she laughed. “Let me guess, under the couch.”

“Aye.”

“Alright well, he has everything he needs, he was having allergy fits yesterday, but I gave him his medicine, so hopefully he won’t be too sleepy tonight.” She handed Henry’s backpack to Neal.

“I’ve done this before, Ems, I think I can handle a weekend.”

“I know but it’s been a few months.” Neal started to respond when Killian cleared his throat.

“Have a grand time at your dad’s. I’m sure you’re excited to tell him all about your field trip last week.” Killian tried to give the boy ideas of things to talk about with his dad, they had visited the Natural History Museum and Killian had chaperoned. Henry had confided in him that he was nervous about his visit with Neal as he hadn’t seen him in so long, yet he was afraid they would have nothing to talk about.

“Oh yeah, just wait til you hear what Killian said at the Museum.”

“I’m sure that’s not what he meant, Henry, you should get going, I’d imagine your dad has plans for the two of you.” Emma laughed, pushing him out the door with Neal.

“I’ll have him back Sunday night.” Neal said, glancing back at Emma, his glare landing on Killian.

“Have fun, lad.” He offered before Emma shut the door behind them.

“I hate sending him away with him.” She groaned as the door clicked shut.

“I know, love. Perhaps one of these times Neal will surprise us and actually step up his duties with the boy.”

She snorted. “You’ve met him right?”

“People can change.” He said softly, running his hand through her hair. Her eyes flashed with golden flecks in the green hue of her pupils. He knew he had changed, lately something inside of him felt different. His time spent with Emma and the boy had opened him up to things he hadn’t known were possible.

A feeling of belonging.

“Come love, I have dinner ready to start on the stove.” Emma slipped on her house shoes and followed him back to his apartment. She wrapped herself in a blanket and curled into the couch, Smee resting on her legs as she flipped through the pages of one of the books Henry had left during their Star Wars marathon weeks previously.

Killian stirred the sauce on the stove, a feeling of contentment settling over him. He had done this for Belle previously, made dinner, entertained her in his home, but this felt different. This felt comfortable, as if a piece of a puzzle he had long lost finally clicked into place.

As they laughed over dinner, her eyes shining in the candlelight, he felt the words he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue. He had felt them long before tonight but didn’t dare breathe them into existence. The memories created with Emma and Henry were more than just moments of time that filled the day. They had become his life, his reason for every decision he made.

When he got off work, he often would pick up something from the store that Emma had mentioned needing or that Henry had spoken fondly of. When he had a day off, his first thoughts were where he could spend it with them. He rarely thought of himself on his own, each memory included them.

“Emma, love, I…” There was a knock on the door, pulling him out of the moment. “Sorry, I have no idea who could be here at this hour.” He stood from the table and opened his front door.

“Brother.” Liam said with a smile. “Surprise.”

“Liam, what brings you to Boston?”

“I had business in town, thought I could stop by and check in on my little brother.”

Killian rolled his eyes. “I’m hardly little anymore.”

“Are you going to let me in or are we going to continue this argument in the hall?”

Killian bit his lip and opened the door, letting Liam into the house. When Liam noticed the lack of lights and candles lining the room he paused. “Am I interrupting my brother in his element?”

Killian laughed and Emma appeared in the archway. “Oh, hello.”

Liam’s brow rose, “Hello there.”

“Liam this is…”

“Emma, right? We met a few months back in the hall.”

Killian paused, glancing at Emma until she caught his eye. “Aye, but I haven’t introduced her properly.” He stepped toward her, his arm trailing along her back. “Emma, this is Liam, my brother.” He turned to stare at her, her smile shining brightly. “Liam, this is Emma…” He paused. “My girlfriend.”

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Choices We Make (the words that matter)

He sighed into the darkening emptiness, knowing every mistake he'd made in his thirty-nine years had simply been practice for this one, for the one that would haunt him with every breath he took until he took no more. She was gone, and it was entirely his fault.

Rating: G

AO3 - FF

An angsty, Silver Hook birthday present for @the-darkdragonfly​ 

Chapter 1/1

The soft, morning light glanced into the room, capturing each mote of dust and illuminating them with an otherworldly glow as they spun through the air, clinging tenuously to the march of cracked spines that lined the bookshelves from ceiling to floor.

Killian swallowed heavily, his pulse thumping in his ears like the panicked breaths of a freed beast begging for the security of its cage once more.

She took another confident step forward, long swathes of hair golden and shimmering. The pale expanse of her hand rose to splay against his chest, a soothing comfort where his heart was beating wildly. Her fingertips just brushed the curls of gray hair peeking from the neck of his shirt – silver, she'd told him once, her lips caught between her teeth as she brushed a stray lock from his face, silver like the moon.

“Swan,” he breathed, his own hand moving to cover her own, each scar and callous, each mark of his age a glaring reminder of why this couldn't happen, “we can't, love.”

“Why not,” she sighed, tension lining both of the small words as her green eyes met his, each freckle scattered across her cheeks calling out to be studied, mapped and memorized, “because you think you're too old for me, that you don't bring anything to this?”

His frustration echoed her own, but it was tempered by years of familiarity. He stepped down carefully from the rolling ladder, his back protesting only slightly as he bridged the gap between them, her palm still pressed warm and insistent against his chest. Their bodies were that much closer as she stubbornly refused to step back, a single eyebrow arched defiantly.

“My failings are reason enough, though the least important among them. You're young, and brilliant, Emma. You've so much to offer the world. Don't tether yourself to me instead of seeing it.”

She opened her mouth to speak, and he knew he would hear the same words she'd said to him so many times before, sometimes borne of frustration, and other times carrying the heavy promise of steel – I don't care that you're older than me. I want this, and if seeing the world means that I can't have this, that I can't have you, then forget the damn world – but he silenced her with a look, reaching for the book he'd left balanced on the rung of the ladder above him.

It was a book he hadn't seen in decades, but today, knowing how their paths would diverge, he wanted her to have it.

His fingers closed around the binding and pulled the nondescript book into the space between them. He did his best not to linger over the difference in how it felt all these years later. With his damaged hand, he could no longer feel the rough scratch of the cover, or the indented, gilded lettering, the small tufts of fabric that sprung from the endband – just one more failing that spanned the distance between them.

“Stop it,” she whispered, her smooth, lithe fingers folding solidly over his own, stiff and scarred, somehow knowing exactly what he was thinking.

“I read this very book quite often when I was a lad,” he mused, the words leaving his throat far more roughly than he intended as he studied the soft silk of her skin against his. “Captain Blood – a tale of a man who was once a slave, but he dared to make his own fate, Swan.”

They'd spoken late one evening of his past – of his mother who'd left too soon, his father who'd traded his sons as labor for his debts, and his youth spent under the thumb of people it took him near his entire life to finally be free of. She knew of his losses and heartaches, of every wretched decision that had led him to the small, haunted peace he'd finally found.

“It's a classic adventure, take it.” he added unnecessarily – because she knew him, knew the escape and hope it had given him over the years in the same way she'd lost herself among the pages of her own stories.

“Killian...”

“It was a comfort to me on many difficult nights, Emma. I'd like you to have it – use it as a coaster for your hot cocoa if you must, but keep it all the same, as something to remember me by.”

“I'm not taking the job offer, Killian.”

“Nonsense, Swan,” he parried, pressing the book into her grasp and swallowing back the solid lump in his throat. He replaced it with a wan smile, knowing she'd see right through it. “It's an opportunity you'd be foolish to pass up – a job like that, it will open any door you could ever hope for in life. You'll go far from this old bookshop and the old man who runs it.”

The bell at the front of the shop tinkled, the sounds of a bustling, midday main street encroaching upon the silence between them as it swung closed and a voice called out for assistance. Knowing that another moment spent at her side would be the end of his fortitude, his smile already fading to something that hungered with desperation, he ducked his head and stepped around her, missing the warmth of her presence as soon as he walked away and left her standing alone in his office.

“Don't go missing that train to Boston now, Swan,” he called back, his voice traced with a bravado he was no longer familiar with, years and disappointment having beaten it out of him.

He listened politely to the woman who'd entered his shop, nodding at intervals as she explained what she was looking for, but his eyes and heart were trained on Emma as she crossed the shop from the back room, her head bowed and flaxen curls swaying around her as she left, casting one last, confused glance in his direction.

It landed in his gut like a knife, her lips tight as she shook her head and disappeared, closing the door soundly behind her.

/

Killian busied himself in the main area of his shop for the rest of the day, filling his moments with menial tasks that did as much to assuage his loss as the last, frantic swipes of a drowning man for light. The air no longer stirred with the scent of cinnamon and vanilla, and though there were times he had been tempted to return to his office if only to breath in the ghost of her once more, he knew he didn't have the strength. In there, the memories were too many, each of them a shadow of the woman he'd just let walk out of his life – for her own good, he reminded himself.

He'd lived his years changed by many things – tragedy, love, loss, hope – he'd served other's needs and then his own, traveling the world and leaving misery behind as soon as he was able. He'd lived stories that had left their marks on both his body and his spirit, and yet...he'd been entirely unprepared for the way his world had shifted on its axis when she'd walked into his shop all those months ago.

The bell had chimed on the door no differently than it always did, and he'd pulled himself from the repair he was working on, glasses that he'd started needing a few years prior slipping down his nose as he leaned around a stack of books to see who'd entered – and there she stood, all gold curls and high cheekbones, determined eyes alighting on him with a strange pull that snapped every facet of his world into perfect clarity.

The floor had swayed beneath him like the sea and he'd never felt his age more keenly, the soft lines etched around his eyes and the grey that had steadily stolen away the inky darkness of his hair. The silence stretched between them like the world drawing a breath, and then she'd laughed, his eyebrows jumping skyward in response, a glimmer of something he hadn't felt since his youth rising in his chest.

It was a search for obscure references for her work – a thesis that would bridge her joint areas of study in psychology and criminal justice – that had brought her to his door, and once she'd entered, she slipped so easily into his life, arriving on an inhale and falling seamlessly into the rhythm that kept air in his lungs.

He avoided examining the reasons why he'd offered to let her work in his office, perhaps telling himself a little too firmly that it was simply because she had three flatmates and no quiet area of her own – and with the library undergoing renovations, even that option was gone – but it didn't take many sleepless nights for him to acknowledge that there was more to it than that.

There had always been more. From those first confident steps she took through his door and into his life, they'd both known there was something more.

Killian was used to silence in his life – loss and solitude had gifted him with a familiarity for its echoing vastness – but the quiet that stretched between he and Emma as they worked on their own projects was never awkward or heavy, it didn't ring with hollowness or chew at his heart. Instead, it was punctuated by the whisper of pages as she flipped back and forth between books, taking notes with a furrowed brow and her bottom lip caught in her teeth.

Her presence was a soft wind that stirred life back into the stale air of his shop, and he found himself far more attuned to her every movement than someone nearly twice her age should be. He spent every night reminding reminding himself of that fact as he readied himself for bed, washing the day from the gray stubble on his cheeks and folding his glasses neatly on the bedside table. She made every effort possible to get to know him, and he'd had enough experience in his life to see the obvious interest she held for him, but he did what he could to discourage it, pushing down that same calling that he himself felt.

He answered her questions as easily as she shared her past with him, trying to show her through the stories of his past that he was far from the person she imagined him to be – that he was a man broken and beaten down by a life filled with poor choices and pain, barely deserving of the small, lonely life he'd scraped out for himself, let alone the grand things he knew she was meant for.  

Perhaps he should have pushed her away more resolutely back then, suggested she return to the library rather than continue to join him at the shop, but he was weak and hungry for the companionship she so readily gave – the small notes she'd leave, the pastries that began appearing on his desk from the bakery down the street. At first they'd been shared quietly between them as they started their work for the day, but as time passed, cups of tea and hot cocoa became their new routine.

He'd taken to keeping a box of the sugary packets in his desk for her, and as he finished helping customers out front, he'd often hear the soft whistle of the electric kettle singing. Just knowing that she would have left a fresh cup of tea for him at his desk was more than enough to warm him.

Killian shook himself from his thoughts, pulling himself back to the present that no longer included that warmth or the woman who'd managed to return it to his life. It wasn't until the last customer of the evening left, the light on Main Street slowly dimming, that he finally gathered the courage to go back into the space that he'd come to think of as their own – never for anything more than a brush of fingertips against heated skin, a lingering embrace, and that one, life-altering kiss that had made him certain she was the one he'd been waiting for his entire life – but he'd never allowed it to progress any further, had felt the guilt of even desiring it every moment that they spent together.

The shop rang once more with that echoing silence, his footsteps swallowed by it as he crossed the floor and eased the door to his office open, everything just as he knew it would be – empty of the one thing that had made his life full. He moved to the desk, plucking up his worn jacket from the chair and fishing for the keys in its pocket, wanting nothing more than to lock up and find a place that wasn't swimming in memories, a place where he could truly drown his misery, at least for the evening.  

“Bloody hell,” he growled, tossing the jacket back to the chair when he found nothing but lint in its pockets, his hand rifling through his hair in frustration.

This wasn't what he needed right now. What he needed was to find the nearest bar and find some relief in the bottom of a bottle, to forget that for a few measly months in his life, he'd been content – he'd been truly happy.

What he needed was his bloody keys so he could lock up and get away from everything surrounding him – the memory of how she ran her fingers along the worn edge of the shelves, the pale slice of her hip as she stretched on the ladder, reaching for something just beyond her fingertips in a way he knew was anything but innocent, the way she sipped her hot cocoa and then ran her tongue over her lips, catching the sweetness left behind...the way he'd always held himself back from doing the same.

What he wouldn't give to feel them pressed against his own just once more, and in the cloying silence of the shop, his heart was screaming that he was the most foolish man who'd ever lived.

He loved her – gods, if he didn't love her more than he'd ever though possible – and he'd chased her out, practically thrown her through the door and told her to move on.

“You're a bloody fool,” he groaned, his head falling into his hands as he leaned across the surface of his desk.

It was then that his eyes caught sight of something unusual left among the clutter and invoices, something metallic reflecting the low glimmer of lamplight from the shelf – no, that that – a delicate, silver chain lay in a serpentine pile against the dark wood, an all too familiar ring nestled in its center.

“Take it, Emma, something to keep you safe when you move on from our small town to the big city.”

“I'm not taking your brother's ring, Killian,” she'd whispered. “It's all you have left of him.”

“Aye, and it's kept me safe all these years, but I think I'd rather the comfort of knowing you had at least this small part of me when you leave...”

He sighed into the darkening emptiness, knowing every mistake he'd made in his thirty-nine years had simply been practice for this one, for the one that would haunt him with every breath he took until he took no more – a glance at the clock and the weight of the cold, silver ring in his palm telling him that he was too late.

She was gone, and it was entirely his fault.

“You're a fool, Killian Jones,” he muttered, “an old fool.”

“You're not a fool, just a little stubborn.”

“Emma,” he gasped, papers flying from the desk as he spun around, his chest tight with confusion and disbelief and hope that pressed so hard against the back of his throat he thought he would choke on it. He took a hesitant step toward where she was leaning in the doorway, but the ring she'd left behind was solid in his palm, and he clenched his fist tightly around it, wondering if hoping at all was just one more thing a fool would do. “What are you – you came back, why?”

“I didn't go to the station to get on the train, Killian,” she said, smiling softly. “I told you I wasn't taking the job. Turns out the only door I'm interested in opening was yours.”

“I don't understand,” he started, needing to desperately, because she couldn't possibly be standing here choosing him after how callously he'd pushed her away.

“I gave my ticket to August a week ago. He's got plans to do the whole starving writer thing in a place with more than one starving writer, so I went to say goodbye – and then I just, I needed some time, so I sat for a while down at the docks.”  

“You were never going,” he echoed, aching to close the gap between them, but still uncertain of the small weight in his palm and what it meant, his fingers worrying the slip of its chain. “Then why leave the ring I gave you?”

“Because, when you give it to me for a second time,” she spoke quietly, closing the distance between them and brushing her fingers along his graying stubble, “I want it to be with a promise – no more running, not for either of us. I'm here, choosing my own fate, choosing to be a part of something. This is it for me, you're it for me – and if you feel the same, then you can go ahead and give me that ring back, and one day we'll make good on it.”

“What have I done,” he breathed, his fingers trembling as he wove them through the loose strands of her hair, “to deserve you, Swan?”

“Well, life can be infernally complex – ”

“It sounds like you acquainted yourself with Captain Blood while you sat at the docks,” he chuckled, tilting her head back and sinking into the depths of her gaze as she finished her thought.

“ – but it can also be really, really simple,” she whispered, pushing onto the toes of her boots, her words ghosting against his lips, “and right now, it's as simple as I love you, Killian Jones, I love you – ”

The ring nearly slipped through the fingers of his damaged hand as he pulled her against him, his lips claiming the promise of her words, her warmth washing over him. She pulled him closer, hands knotted in his shirt as their breaths became one, hungry and desperate before settling into something so like a heartbeat he could feel it in his bones.

“I love you, Emma,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers as he whispered the words into the space between them, knowing that out of all the words surrounding them, the ones they'd shared were the only ones that mattered.

END

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmomof4  @the-darkdragonfly  @teamhook  @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx   @jrob64  @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree  @pirateprincessofpizza  @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever  @alifeofdreams  @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook  @hollyethecurious  @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells  @itsfabianadocarmo  @stahlop  @karlyfr13s @elizabeethan  @rkrbirdgirl  @batana54  

[dimigex]

New Altered Reality Chapter!

A03 / FF 

I think it’s been like . . two years since I updated this story XD oops. The story is linked at the top if you want the full chapter and/or story. This is only a portion of the new chapter because it’s over 6k words 

"Why don't you go train for a little while? It might take your mind off things." Rin made the suggestion as gentle as possible, ignoring the frustration that seethed just beneath the surface of her calm. She wanted the apartment to herself for a few hours and desperately needed Kakashi to stop fussing over her. Then, she'd be able to relax the way that she was supposed to. The man's constant attention put her on edge.

Since the doctor's appointment four days ago, Kakashi had been acting like a brooding hen. When Rin stood up to get her book from the bedroom, he'd jumped to his feet and offered to go instead. He didn't want her standing long enough to cook or clean, so he'd taken over those duties as well. While Kakashi was decent in the kitchen, he'd kept everything bland and refused to add any salt to the dishes. If the man mentioned her blood pressure one more time, Rin was fairly certain that hers would rise to dangerous levels when she yelled at him.

At Rin's words, Kakashi glanced up from the book in his lap. The man's brow furrowed as he marked his place with a finger. "What if you need something while I'm gone?"

"Then, I'll get it myself," Rin answered. She moderated her tone to placating rather than annoyed. It was more difficult than she expected. "I'm hardly an invalid, you know?"

"The doctor said you needed rest." Kakashi argued for the umpteenth time, as if Rin had forgotten it, as if he would give her a chance to forget it.

Rin held up her hand to stop Kakashi's next arguments before they could form. Slowly, she counted to five under her breath. The idea of laying in bed or on the couch for even one minute longer made her physically ill. She had done everything that she was supposed to: drinking glass after glass of water to keep herself hydrated, keeping the lights dim and the room quiet, resting on her left side whenever possible. There had been a dozen tiny things that might make a difference, or might not.

While that scenario would sound like a dream for some women, to Rin, it was a nightmare. She missed the days when training and missions kept her mind and body racing. When she was in the village, Rin kept herself busy wherever the hospital needed an extra set of hands. She hadn't chosen her specialization yet, but she was leaning toward pediatrics. Most medical nin worked in triage and emergencies, but there were plenty of quiet days as well. Rin liked the idea of helping children feel better rather than focusing on battle injuries.

Rin realized that her mind had drifted from the topic at hand and brought her eyes back to Kakashi. She couldn't help but appreciate the changes in her husband in the past few days, even when they annoyed her. In some ways, he was more like himself and others, he was totally different. Rin could manage the symptoms of her pregnancy; she'd done that when morning sickness left her more or less living on the bathroom floor for two months. But, she couldn't handle the hovering worry that radiated off of Kakashi.

"Why don't you go see if Minato has an update on your team?" Rin suggested, pushing into a sitting position.

Apprehension entered Kakashi's eyes. The man still hadn't been able to explain his nervousness over the chunin exams, no matter how much he tried. Rin almost felt bad for bringing up the memory, almost. Team Seven was the only distraction that could get Kakashi out of her hair for an hour or two. Sensing the man's wavering resolve, Rin pushed. "I'm just going to take a bath anyway. A cool one," Rin amended when Kakashi opened his mouth. He had been reading one of her many books about the dos and don't of pregnancy; Rin wished that she'd thrown them out once she finished.

"I'm sure he would have sent someone if there was news," Kakashi countered. His voice lacked its usual certainty, however. He wanted to know what was happening with his students as much as Rin wanted some time to breathe.

Rin nodded, running a hand through her hair. "Probably, but it would be good for you to get your mind off this mess." She gestured around the apartment. "Besides, if I need you, I can create a clone to find you. I still know how to do some things."

Over the past few months, Rin had been developing her chakra control. Once her pregnancy had been confirmed, she'd been removed from active duty. With missions off the table, she spent more time at the hospital. Even so, Rin was only permitted to assist with certain cases, so she spent her free time working through exercises that improved her control. Hopefully, that would allow her the freedom to study more medical ninjutsu after the baby was born. If she'd learned anything from being on a team with hotheaded Obito and reckless Kakashi, it was that a medic was always necessary.

"You promise you'll come find me if you need anything?" Kakashi's voice held a note of uncertainty that surprised Rin. When she nodded, he tucked a strip of cloth into the book on his lap and placed it on the table. "I won't be gone long, but maybe you're right. I'm sure there are rumors about teams finishing the second exam by now."

"Take your time," Rin offered, schooling her face to impassivity. If she looked hopeful at the free time, Kakashi would see the trap. He stood, stretching the stiff muscles in his back, then glanced in her direction. A slight frown appeared on his face.

He's debating whether or not to kiss me, Rin realized with a start. While Kakashi had changed significantly over the past few days, the hesitancy about displaying emotions with her remained. Honestly, it didn't bother Rin as much as his lost memories did. Kakashi had always been private and reserved with his affections. Deciding to meet him halfway, Rin caught his hand with hers and squeezed. Kakashi exhaled in relief.

"Go on," Rin prompted, dropping her fingers away. "I'll be good, I promise."

A smile tugged at the corners of Kakashi's mouth as he stepped closer. To Rin's surprise, he leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. An unfamiliar explosion of heat washed through her chest at the gesture. "I'll bring dinner home," Kakashi continued, completely unaware of the effect he had on her. "Don't even think of trying to make it while I'm gone."

"Promise," Rin laughed, hoping that her smile disguised the fact that she had just been considering that very thing.

When the door shut behind Kakashi, Rin glanced at the calendar on the wall. She calculated how much longer she'd have to endure Kakashi's worrying before life could get back to normal. If everything went perfectly, they would meet their son in twelve weeks; Rin could hang on that long. She didn't have a choice.

When a brief knock sounded on the office door, Minato glanced up from the paperwork in his hand. Shikaku slipped through before he had time to answer, and Minato's heart leaped into his throat. "Has there been news?"

The second chunin exam was coming to a close, and there still hadn't been any word of Naruto's team. Minato knew that his son and his teammates were talented shinobi, but the exams were designed to be taxing. He'd seen just as many groups fail because of bad luck as poor skill. With the relative peace in the shinobi nations, fewer genin were advanced to the next rank. Minato agreed with the changes, but he could still remember all too well how quickly the ninja wars had started.

Shikaku shook his head as he shut the door behind him. "None about Team Seven."

Minato understood what the man wasn't saying; there were more important things to worry about than Naruto's advancement. Shikaku's son was also competing in the exams, he had to be wondering about the same things as Minato, but Shikaku remained detached. He stayed focused on the other matters that required his attention to keep the village running. Shikaku had been an excellent pick as Minato's second in command, and Minato didn't know what he would do without him most days.

Dipping his head in understanding, Minato pressed a thumb and forefinger against his eyes to stave off a headache. It had been a stressful week. When he wasn't torn between worries over Kakashi's memory and Naruto's performance, Minato had been dealing with chaos of having multiple villages together. There had been half a dozen fights to break up, tempers that needed soothing, and the exhaustion of hosting delegates. He cringed. "What is it this time? A broken nose over which kage is the strongest? Blood feud over the death of a distant relative? A comment taken the wrong way?"

"None of the above." Shikaku didn't crack a smile at Minato's attempted levity. Whatever he had come to say must be bad. Minato waited in silence. "I wasn't sure what to make of the report, so I brought it to you immediately. Someone made an attempt against the village barrier."

Minato shifted, mind flashing back to Kakashi's warning about Orochimaru. Even so, he forced himself to think logically rather than responding with a knee jerk reaction. "Did the Anbu tasked with that portion of the village find anything out of the ordinary? Which team was it?"

Again, Shikaku shook his head. "Obito's team deemed it a false alarm, something bound to happen with this many foreigners in the village."

Minato nodded without answering. Technically, his advisor shouldn't know the names of the men and women in Anbu, but Obito's presence hadn't been easy to hide, especially from someone who worked closely with Minato. Shikaku had been an effective jonin commander because he knew the strengths and weaknesses of every jonin in the village. There were few who weren't under his purview at some point, but Minato had no doubt that the man knew them as well. He wouldn't be good at his job if he didn't.

"Was there any evidence to suggest otherwise, anything at all?" Minato hated asking the question, but he couldn't afford to be lax with village safety during the chunin exams. There had been too many warnings to write this off as a coincidence. Though, he knew that if Shikaku had more information, he would have supplied it already.

Shikaku's sigh spoke volumes. He'd been under the same pressure as Minato the past couple of weeks. "No, everything appears to be in order."

Minato wondered if Shikaku had been thinking about Kakashi's warning when he brought that message. As much as Minato wanted to, he hadn't been able to keep that solely between himself and Inoichi. He relied on Shikaku too much to withhold such critical information. Even so, he held back as much as he could about Kakashi's memory loss. Until he figured out the cause, the less that everyone else knew, the better.

Tapping long fingers against the polished wood of his desk, Minato considered. He wanted to hear the report from his Anbu, but that would require summoning Obito. Or, perhaps, he could get by with asking Tenzo about it. The remorse that Obito had shown for what he did to Kakashi wasn't enough; the boy needed to realize that his behavior would not be tolerated. Minato decided to summon Tenzo once Shikaku left and get the full report on the disturbance. Though, he suspected it was a false alarm.

Sensing that he'd only skimmed the surface of Shikaku's reports, Minato nodded. "What else?"

A wry grin twisted the jonin's commander's face as he glanced down at the notes in his hand. "Uchiha Fugaku has requested a private meeting with you." Minato's eyebrows rose at that, wondering who Fugaku would want to talk about, one of his sons or Obito. It wasn't like the clan head to meet with Minato for something minor.

Minato dipped his head in understanding, then Shikaku continued his thought. "He requests a private meeting in the Uchiha compound."

The locale didn't surprise Minato. Fugaku must have found out something about the mystery surrounding Kakashi, but it wasn't something he wanted to risk being overhead. Which meant that it probably touched on some clan secret. Having the Hokage come to the compound instead of the other way around would raise the clan's opinion of Fugaku, at least. There were still some people, particularly in the Uchiha clan, who wished that Fugaku had become Hokage instead of Minato. Hopefully the man's information would be worth the hassle.

Minato glanced at the clock. It wasn't quite noon, and he was already longing for home. "When am I supposed to be there?"

Shikaku consulted his notes to be sure he was correct before speaking. "Tonight. Your schedule was too full to allow time during the day, and with the second exam ending in the morning, there wasn't another opportunity."

Fugaku didn't want to wait that long, Minato realized after a moment. He dipped his head in understanding; there were a million loose ends that needed to be tied up before the final exam could begin. Even problems as important as this one had to wait. Minato rubbed at his temples in frustration, then gestured for Shikaku to continue. "What else?"

(Full chapter and story available on A03 and FF, linked at top of the post)

[ofmermaidsandmarauders]

stolen dreams took our childish days - chapter 3

read on FF or AO3

I hope you all enjoy this next chapter in Jamie and Claire’s foster care adventure. It’s a bit shorter than usual, but... Enjoy! xoxo

March 2020 

It’s about three weeks before they’re able to arrange a visit after school for Fergus to see his mom. It means Jamie has a few extra hours to kill before he has to pick him up from the visitation center. He’s finishing up at the office when his phone dings. It’s on do not disturb which means the notification is from Claire, the only person whose number will bypass the setting.

Maybe you should pick up a treat for Fergus. I’m sure that he’ll be sad to be leaving his mom. He told me that he loves chocolate chip cookies. Or maybe ice cream. Or idk, Jamie, maybe he won’t need a snack and his mom will have brought him something.

He could sense Claire’s frantic energy in the text, a grin splitting his mouth wide open. 

Breathe, Sassenach. What a fine idea. I’ll pick him up something special. See you tonight.

Glancing at the time, Jamie decided the workday was done and that he’d need a few spare minutes to pick up a treat for the lad. 

It didn’t take long at the bakery to pick out a cookie, and before he knew it, Jamie was waiting patiently in a vinyl chair with no support. He kept glancing at his phone, answering a few emails before he heard a door open and looked up. A kind woman with cropped curly hair and dark skin with a badge around her neck stood in the doorway of one of the rooms just to the right. “Mr. Fraser?” she asked, at which he stood and nodded. “I’m Veronica, I’m the one covering the visits.”

“Aye, I am. It’s nice to meet ye as well,” he responded softly, taking a few steps toward her. 

“Fergus is having a difficult time leaving his mother. I’m not sure if you have a few minutes, the transition during the first visit is always the hardest,” Veronica explained, gesturing to the room.

“Would it be alright if I said a quick hello and tried to help ease the lad back to my home?” Jamie inquired, the bag from the bakery in his left hand, lifting it as if showing that he had brought bribery.

“Well, alright… As long as you’re comfortable.” Veronica turned back into the room and Jamie stepped toward it, stopping in the doorway as he saw Fergus crying in his mother’s arms, the woman’s own eyes appearing glassy.

“Fergus, lad?” he called softly, knocking on the dark wooden door. Fergus’ head peeked up before he started to cry harder, burying his face back in his mother’s neck. 

“I don’t wanna go!” Fergus cried out, his knuckles white from the grip on his mother’s shoulders. 

Jamie took a moment to observe the interaction. Fergus’ mother appeared younger than he expected. Very young, actually. Jamie was preparing to turn thirty-two in a few months and made the mistake of assuming that Fergus’ mother would be close to his own age, but she looked as though she couldn’t be older than twenty-five. 

Her curls were thinner than his wife���s, but she had the same dark hair. For a moment, Jamie envisioned her as a younger version of Claire, like a younger sister who had lost her way in life. Claudia was nothing like the monster that he had created in his head. She looked tired, her eyes were sunken in a bit. Her skin was pale and the lass was thin. Eerily thin. 

What Jamie then noticed was how fiercely she was holding Fergus, like she was afraid to let him go. He felt guilty, as if he was the one forcing the two apart, but he had to remind himself that this wasn’t the case.

“Och, lad. Are ye no’ going to introduce me to yer mam? I ken ye’re sad but I’d like tae meet the lass!” Fergus looked at Jamie and cracked a smile, likely at Jamie’s accent.

“Mama, this is Jamie. He talks funny, but he’s real nice. He and Claire… that’s his wife, you ken? They’ve been really nice. Claire said that maybe me and you could talk on the phone before bed at night if you’ve got a phone. And Jamie makes Mickey pancakes really good and…” Claudia held up a hand, a pained smile on her lips, though Jamie was sure Fergus couldn’t tell the difference. 

“Maybe I could introduce myself to Jamie, now?” Her smile became softer and more teasing as she kissed Fergus’ forehead before placing him on the ground, stepping tentatively toward Jamie. He squared his shoulders before holding his hand out.

“It’s a pleasure tae meet ye, lass. Fergus speaks verra highly of ye. He’s quite the lad. Brilliant and funny and charming,” Jamie trailed off, his cheeks going pink as he realized he was telling her about her own son.

“Oh, well… I thank you for that. It’s obvious he’s fond of the both of you.” Claudia looked at her hands, picking at the cuticles. She swayed on her feet before looking back at Fergus.

“I hate to say it’s time to go, lad, but ye have yer schoolwork to finish, aye? Say goodbye to yer mam,” Jamie instructed, feeling uncomfortable with the fact that he had to be the one to end the visit. Wasn’t Veronica supposed to step in at some point and do this? Why had he said that? Maybe he was being too forward?

“Mr. Fraser is right, Fergus, but I’ll pick you up from school again next week and you’ll get to see your mom again, alright?” As if on cue, Veronica stepped in and began tidying up the toys in the room, speaking softly to Claudia before Fergus gave his mother one final tight hug and kiss. Jamie picked up the lad’s knapsack in his free hand, gesturing for Fergus to lead the way from the room.

“I bought ye some cookies. Claire told me they’re yer favorite. Ye can have one in the car if ye promise to be careful with the wee crumbs. Do ye have a lot of work to do tonight?” Jamie filled the silence on the walk to his car, helping Fergus into the booster seat in the back. Fergus, normally chatty after a day at school, was noticeably silent as Jamie prompted him again with the question. Refusing to leave until Fergus had spoken to him, Jamie squeezed himself into the floor of the backseat, looking up at Fergus’ sad face.

“I don’t want to leave my mama. I don’t want to be apart from her anymore. It’s not fair!” Fergus sounded frustrated, and Jamie didn’t blame him. To only be eight and have to leave your mother not once, but twice. With no say in the matter, either. He didn’t blame Fergus for thinking it wasn’t fair.

“Och, weel, the both of us ken it’s not quite fair, but ‘tis what must be done until yer mam can keep ye safe and healthy. And in the meantime, ye’re always welcome with me and Claire, whether ye want to be there or not. We love having ye in our home, lad. I hope ye ken that.” Jamie was worried that his attempts at reassurance were a waste of time, but Fergus appeared to be comforted by them as he reached his small hands down to pat Jamie’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” the boy whispered softly, letting his eyes close as he sunk back into his seat. 

Assuming the conversation was over, Jamie moved back into the driver’s seat and began their journey home. He had much to discuss with Claire before bed that night.

_________________________________________

“Claire, ‘twas mebbe the most horrible thing I’ve seen in my life. The lad wouldna stop weeping. ‘Tis a shock my own heart isna torn in two at just the thought of it!”

Claire couldn’t contain a giggle at his dramatics, even if it was a depressing thought.

“Jamie, of course he’s sad! He had to leave his mom after finally getting to see her. I can’t believe you met her. What was she like?” she asked, the question coming out before she even knew it was one she had.

“Kind. And sad. Thin. Tired. Young. Verra young. Mebbe ten years younger than you, Sassenach. Sae thin, sae young. The lass looked like she would fall apart. She’s got a heid of curly hair just like her son. Much like yers, in fact. She was… She was just his mam.” Jamie’s shoulders felt at this last statement, his body settling into the mattress for the night. He hadn’t expected the thought to shake him so much. Jamie hadn’t even planned on meeting her, but something had pushed him to go in that room and coax Fergus out. Rolling onto his side, he thought deeply about what brought them to take in a child in foster care. Their goal had been to provide a safe and healthy home to a child in need. He thought he was protecting Fergus, but in fact, he was worried he may have been doing the complete opposite. Were they keeping the boy from the one person in life who would unconditionally love him?

Claire could sense that Jamie was deep in thought, and she took the opportunity to wrap her arms around him, climbing on top of him. Her cheek settled against his chest and she let out a little sigh when his hands found their place in the curve of her lower back.

“She’s just his mam,” Jamie repeated, the words causing a shiver to run down his spine.

“It’s not your fault that he’s here, Jamie. We’re just keeping him safe and giving him a good home until they can be together again, that’s all. You’re doing a good thing.” Claire peppered kisses along his skin between her statements. Her left hand rose to cup his cheek, thumb stroking over the curve of his upper lip. She felt her fingers start to dampen and realized that Jamie had been so shaken that he was crying. It was only then that she realized Jamie had lost his own mother, Ellen,  at Fergus’ exact age. 

“Oh, Jamie,” she breathed out, her hands going to his shoulders, holding tighter to him. “It’s alright. He’s going to be alright.” 

“I ken, I just hope we are more help than hurt for the lad.” Jamie’s voice was hoarse, his hands stroking at the soft skin on Claire’s back. 

“I love ye, Sassenach.” The words meant many things, more than he knew how to put into words, and he knew that Claire would understand the hidden meaning.

“She would be proud of you,” Claire whispered, the words coming out before she even knew they were there. Jamie stiffened beneath her for a moment before letting his body relax. His grip tightened for a fraction of a second before loosening his hold so that his hands could stroke beneath her t-shirt. “You’ve turned into an amazing person, Jamie. Ellen Fraser would be so proud of the man you’ve become.”

Jamie didn’t say anything else, just let the tears he had been holding in freely flow while his wife wiped them away.

[seriouslyhooked]

Feels Like This (Part 10)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hi everybody! I am so excited to FINALLY be back with a new chapter of a fic that so many of you have fallen in love with. This response has been truly unprecedented in my writing experience. I have had lots of fics that many of you rooted for and supported me in, and I am always so grateful for that, but having a hiatus from writing this story showed me just how invested so many of you are. This is a great feeling as a writer, and that excitement you all have is the only reason I have been able to write more of this fic. My ability to write at my usual pace has been tested this fall, and there’s been some ups and downs in my attempts to reengage, but I love this story and I am so excited to share the rest of it with you all. I hope you will all like this new installment, I thank you again for continuing this with me, and I cannot wait to hear what you think!

“Mmmm, this smells delicious,” Henry said, hovering over the skillet not for the first time this evening, and breathing in the pasta sauce Killian had been working on the past half hour. To the boy’s credit, it did smell absolutely wonderful, a comforting classic anyone would love, and which the three of them had earned, after a day of unexpected meetings and introductions. This pasta was a traditional Montennaran recipe, not far off from a classic Sicilian pomodoro, but with the benefit of a few of this country’s specialties. It was a favorite of his personally, and one of the few meals he’d learned to cook well during his time in the service.

“Seriously. Who knew you could cook like this?” Emma said, still stunned at the display before them. She must have assumed from pizza night and the slow cooking speed of their first date  that he was fully a novice, and he was in many ways. But he did have a few small tricks up his sleeves, and one was this sauce, which was easy to make as long as he had the right ingredients. It was quick, but precise, and it gave off the perception that he had mastered something difficult, even though that wasn’t true.

“This dish is a special one for me and for my unit. This is the spread each of us waited for during deployments. You crave so many things when you’re without them for so long, but this meal symbolized something else. The moment we’d touch down on Montennaran soil, this is the first thing we would eat. It represents safety just as much as it does a good meal.”

“You always had this?” Henry asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “No matter what time?”

“Breakfast, lunch, or dinner. This was it,” Killian said, smiling at the memory of early morning pasta meals that he’d enjoyed more than most other moments in his time at sea. Those were the times when they all felt at peace again, and where they allowed themselves to breathe and heal no matter what dark moments had been withstood. “We took turns preparing it, tired as we’d all be from the tour and the travel, but the pressure was on. The last thing you want to do is disappoint newly anchored sailors. It’s a mistake that may just be your last.”

“No kidding,” Henry said, surprised but taking the words at face value. “It sounds so cool though. Being in the Navy, I mean. You meet all those people, people who are your family too even if you’re not related.”

“Aye, lad, they are my family. Always will be.”

“I can’t wait to meet them someday,” Henry said eagerly. Killian noticed Emma tense a bit but she didn’t need to worry. It was always his intention to introduce them all, because it was his plan to keep Emma and Henry with him forever. “Will it be like today do you think?”

“That depends on how you think today went.”

Killian’s quip earned a laugh from Henry and a soft smile from Emma. He was teasing as if the afternoon had been anything but excellent, when of course that was not the case. Despite the unexpected nature of it all, his family had been on their best behavior and they’d all immediately loved Emma and her boy. He knew in his heart they would, but it took a lot of pressure off and hopefully would help ease some of Emma’s worries about where this was going and if his family would approve.

“Today was totally awesome!” Henry said. “Everyone was so nice and cool. But Gran was definitely my favorite.”

“For now maybe,” Killian said, knowing full well what the draw of his Gran was and how her energy and feistiness made her infinitely lovable. “But give it time. My Mum and Liam both have a few more tricks up their sleeves.”

“What did you think of today, Mom?” Henry asked, and Killian was intrigued to know her thoughts. He doubted that Emma would go very deep with her assessment, but she was always honest with her son, of that Killian was totally assured.

“It was… easy,” Emma confessed, smiling at the memories of the day. “I never expected to feel so welcomed right away, but everyone was so normal, it was nice.”

“Normal is pushing it a bit, love. My grandmother’s revelations alone somewhat undermine my family’s classification as something so benign.”

“Maybe,” Emma said with a shrug. “But the families I’ve seen all have some kind of well-meaning meddling, don’t they? Hers just has a bit more royal flare.”

“Oh, Gran’s got flare all right. No doubt about that,” Henry said cheekily as he took the dishes and silverware from Emma and headed to the dining room to set the table.

It wasn’t a statement the boy had meant to be impactful, but it hit Killian right in the heart. That was another special moment from today. There was no formality with his family and Henry and Emma, and he had witnessed the moment his grandmother insisted that Henry call her Gran as well. To have Henry accept that so quickly was a blessing, and another bright spot in what had been a beautiful day.

“And what about you?” Emma asked him when they were alone. “How did you think today went?”

Instinctively Killian turned off the burner, knowing the food was ready to serve but not wanting it to be ruined. He wiped his hands clean of any rogue tomato and then he pulled Emma straight into his arms in one fluid motion. Without pause, he pressed a kiss to her lips that was meant to be soft and nonintrusive in case Henry returned, but quickly morphed to something heated when Emma clutched at his shirt and arched in closer. By the time they pulled apart, he almost forgot the question, but Emma’s curious green eyes prompted him to reassure her of the truth.

“Today was one of the best days I’ve ever known, love. The most important people in my world came together, and if my instincts are correct, it’s gone just about as perfectly as it could. I couldn’t ask for anything more than that…”

“Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ hanging in that statement,” she said, running her fingers across his cheek as she looked at him, searching for answers. “Talk to me.”

“It’s just that I -,”

“Okay, table’s set!” Henry said, barreling back into the kitchen and prompting Killian to step back from Emma but to keep his hand in hers.

Emma and Killian exchanged a look that silently said they would pick up this conversation again later, but Killian squeezed her hand in what he hoped was a calming and comforting gesture. The hanging words he’d yet to say were hardly bad ones, he just had to admit that as beautiful as today was he wanted so much more. He’d never have enough days like this one for his liking. He would always want more, no matter what came, and that was what he’d have to ask her for if not today then someday very soon.

Dinner proceeded without a hitch, and not only was his cooking a success, but the meal was fun and lively. Henry made for so much conversation, and his thoughts on the day were long and varied. He was so full of excitement and energy that it was contagious, and Killian learned more from both the boy and his mother about what they’d taken from meeting his family. They all talked about the center too, about Marco and Marie and Cecelia, and then at length about Anna and especially Elsa.

“Do you think anything will come from it?” Emma asked Killian at one point, after they’d already dissected how undeniable the moment was between Emma’s friend and Killian’s brother.

“Oh for sure,” Henry said before Killian could respond. Both Emma and Killian laughed at his confidence.

“You seem rather certain, lad.”

“Well it’s pretty obvious. I mean he looks at Elsa the way you look at Mom. They’re totally gonna get together. It was love at first sight. Just like with you two.”

“Henry,” Emma said, chastising him somewhat but in a measured way.

“What?”

“Well not for nothing, but you didn’t even see Killian and I meet how could you know it was…”

“Love at first sight?” Killian offered, grinning at her, knowing in his heart that was exactly what they’d felt the moment they laid eyes on each other.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, come on, Mom,” Henry said, rolling his eyes in a move Killian rarely ever saw, but which looked exactly like his mother when she was exasperated. He nearly choked on his water, but he powered through, biting back a laugh at Emma’s shocked face. “It was totally love. You came home extra happy and you had a dreamy look on your face all the time when Killian started volunteering. And since then you’ve been kinda… what does Mrs. H call it again? Oh right, scatterbrained. Love can do that, you know. I asked Gran about it today and she said it’s a telltale sign.”

“You asked her that?” Emma asked, shocked and maybe just a little bit mortified as Henry nodded like it was no big deal.

“Yup. She knows everything. She said that’s what happens when you’re old, and since Mrs. H says that too I think it’s probably true. Come to think of it, they’d be great friends don’t you think?”

“Mrs. H and Queen Eleanor?” Emma asked, as if the thought of their neighbor and Killian’s grandmother being ‘friends’ was too much to handle. “Well I mean, now that you mention it, there are a few similarities there.”

“Totally. And if Mrs. H was here she’d agree with me about Liam and Elsa. It’s totally love, and that’s awesome. Queen Elsa. It has a nice ring to it. Like she was meant to be a royal.”

Killian didn’t think Elsa was the only one with a name suited for royalty. In his estimation Princess Emma and even Prince Henry were rather fitting as well, but he bit that statement back, not wanting to overwhelm Emma or bring something up in front of Henry that she wasn’t ready for. Instead he steered the conversation in other directions, enjoying himself thoroughly as they all enjoyed dessert together that Emma had put together before watching a movie the three of them. It was a totally natural thing, and at more than one point Killian thought that they really looked like a family. It filled his heart with hope, and he wished one day he could officially claim both of them as his. But tonight, he’d just enjoy how good it felt to be with two such special people who seemed to see something in him too.

“Okay, kid, it’s about that time. It’s late already, so PJs and then you can read two chapters and then that’s all she wrote. You got me?”

“Sure, Mom. But can I read to Killian tonight? I’m at a great part in the story. The pirates are about to board the ship.”

“Um, I’m not – I mean, if you want?” Emma asked deferring to him though she was obviously flustered.

“Sounds good to me,” Killian said prompting relief in Emma and a sound of excitement from Henry.

Henry hurried to get himself ready for bed, and just as he’d promised, he proceeded to read Killian two chapters of his current book. The title was one Killian recognized from his youth, but he was impressed that a ten year old had such command of the story. Henry was a good reader but also theatrical, keeping Killian’s attention all the while. Only when he closed the book did Killian leave the swashbuckling alternative universe the story took place in.

“Quite the tale there, lad. You’ll have to keep me apprised of what happens next.”

“No need, I’ll save it until you come back again,” Henry said easily, gesturing to his bookcase which was full of books in so many shades and shapes. “I’ve got tons of them to read.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Killian said truthfully standing back up and heading towards the door. “Well thanks again for the story, Henry. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Killian,” Henry said, letting out a yawn and settling into bed. “Love you.”

The words placed a direct hit on Killian’s heart, and he was unsure if Henry had meant to say it or if sleep was getting the better of him, but Killian could only go on instinct. He answered honestly, telling the boy he loved him too and seeing him smile and settle to sleep before slipping into the hall and walking right into Emma who had tears in her eyes.

“Emma?” he asked, mindful to keep his voice more a whisper than something that could wake up Henry. “Is everything all right?”

“He said he loves you,” Emma whispered, and Killian nodded, brushing her tears away as he held her close.

“He did, love, and it made me feel ten feet tall.”

“Because you love him too,” she whispered, awed at that as if were some kind of stunning revelation and not a given fact of life.

“Of course I do. He’s an amazing boy, and his mother… well she’s the beating of my heart. How could I do anything but love him when he’s a piece of you, Emma?”

“What were you going to say earlier?” Emma asked, abruptly pulling them back to that moment in the kitchen. He debated holding back, but he decided ultimately it was better to put all of his cards on the table. Transparency was key if they had any shot of making this work.

“I was going to say that you, Emma Swan, are the reason. You’re my reason for everything, this impossible gift I never saw coming, and I’m lost in you. I see this perfect moment and forever when I look in your eyes, I see a life I’m desperate to pursue and real hope for the future. I still can’t believe that you’ve chosen me and that I’m standing here with you at all, and a day as good as this one only reminds me that I’ll always have this want - this need - for you. I love you, Emma, irrefutably, incandescently. In a forever and so much longer kind of way.”

“I love you too. Just as much,” Emma said, her voice stronger this time though her tears still came. They appeared to be the product of joy instead of sadness, but they still clutched at his chest like a vice. The only antidote was pulling Emma somewhere private, in this case her bedroom, and confirming he was right.

Once the door was closed behind them, locking them into a sound tight suite on the other end of Emma’s temporary home, their actions blended together. He didn’t lead the way, but moved with Emma, a dance that felt so much more practiced than it was. Emma pulled him for steamy kisses, and he savored her taste on his tongue as he held her close and moved her back towards the bed in her room. The lights were dimmed, but washed the room in a warmth he felt upon his skin. He was burning up from the closeness and the promise of what was to come, but the only thing he could think was that he needed more.

In the back of his mind, Killian also realized that this moment needed quiet. With Henry in the house, they didn’t have the freedom he might yearn for, but no matter. He had the love of the most incredible woman and she’d accepted his love in return. That needed celebration and merited some long-desired reveling. He wanted to show her how he felt, and though he’d finally said the words and attempted to make her understand, the feelings he had went so much deeper. Looking in her eyes right now, he could tell she felt just as much, but the time for waiting and wondering was over. They had put the truth between them and now it was time to truly immerse themselves in it.

Instinct and hunger soon took over for Killian, melding with the love he felt and the softer feelings in his heart in a wickedly wonderful way. He wanted Emma bared to him as soon as could be, spread out on the sheets of this bed and ready for his taking. They’d been flirting with the pleasures they could have for a while now, and they’d been intimate before, but this was different. This was a first in many ways, and Killian was intent on having this moment be one they wouldn’t rush, and that they’d remember for the rest of their lives.

A primal voice in his brain urged him to take her fast and hard, to make a claim they’d both feel branded by, but Killian anchored himself to an idea of something slower and more sensual. He knew taking his time would prove so much more gratifying, and he wanted to make this as good for his Swan as it could possibly be. He helped Emma out of clothes, noticing the tremble of her hands as he did. She was buzzing with excitement and electricity, but she matched his pace, understanding that if they drove each other crazy for just a little longer it would be sublime.

He was entranced by her entirely, and as her clothes from the day fell away, revealing two extremely unexpected scraps of red lace underneath, he couldn’t help but groan. No woman had a right to be so lovely, to claw at him so surely, and to set him alight in this way, but God did he love it. Emma was impossible, but somehow she was real. He felt her responsiveness to him and tracked the way that she noticed how his appreciative gaze moved up her body. A flush spread across her creamy skin, but she stood there, proud and sure as her hands moved across his body, removing his clothes as he’d done hers.

“I didn’t know that I could want this much,” she whispered, the honey-laced tone of her voice a sweet melody to his ears. “I need you, Killian. I love you.”

“Fuck me,” he grumbled, surprising her by taking her in his arms and lowering her to the bed. She let out a gasp before giving into laughter, her eyes bright and sparkling in the lamp light.

“Believe me, I’m trying,” she quipped, but her feistiness faded somewhat as he shed the rest of his clothes. Now her attention had switched, she was watching him steadily, and unconsciously licked her lips. That was it. His patience broke and he was on her, hands roaming, mouth teasing, and hellbent on more.

“Much as I might love that idea, Swan, tonight isn’t about fucking. Tonight I make love to the woman of my dreams. Tonight I show you my heart in full. It’s so much more than sex.”

“I know,” Emma whispered, running her hands along his cheek. “So show me.”

Bound by her request, Killian set out to do just that. It began with roaming hands and removing the last two scraps of red that shielded her from him. Once she was bare, he let himself explore and learn every spot and lick and nip that made her breathless. He traced the sensitive places on her body that made her hum in pleasure, and cherished each freckle on her skin that had come from the summer sun. He riled her up with his hands and his mouth until she was pleading for release, and then he gave it to her, touching her tender flesh and prompting a thready moan from her lips.

“Killian.” Emma’s croon was ragged and gorgeous, making him harder than he ever thought possible.  The sound of her desire reached within his soul and engulfed him completely. Unable to resist, he felt himself growing addicted, unsure if he could ever stop. He needed her sighs like he needed to breath, and he purposefully pulled as many sounds of pleasure from her as he could.

There was nothing like Emma lost in lust. She’d never been more beautiful and he didn’t know how that was possible. As his thumb swirled against her clit and his fingers filled her, she gave more away, revealing herself and her needs in ways that made him dizzy. Every response set Killian aflame, and every breathy sigh and plea for more was a sign he intended to follow until he’d led her right over the edge and she shattered beneath him.

“You destroy me, love,” he found himself saying as he looked down at her and brushed some strands of her curled blonde hair out of her eyes. “Destroy me and make me into so much more. I’m in awe of you.”

In the face of her release, and the sincere words that he meant completely, Emma blushed again but smiled. Her expression was one he’d only ever seen her share with him, and it made him feel indestructible. He’d never met a person with more impact on his soul, and he’d never met a woman who so effortlessly created hope and good in his heart. Emma Swan was everything a man could ever want made real, and Killian still couldn’t comprehend how he was lucky enough to be here.

“I can’t imagine this is real,” Emma said, her words still dazed, but happy and content. “But I know it is. I know you are. I’m in this, Killian. I’ve never been more in.”

“Thank God for that, love,” Killian said with a grin and one more kiss before he trailed lower.

With careful attentions designed for maximum pleasure, Killian hit each peak point on her body, bestowing licks and nips that made her jump and mewl. By the time he’d reached her inner thighs, she was breathing heavy, anticipation clear as day. Killian looked up to her now emerald colored eyes as his hands held her steady, needing to know that this was what she wanted and what he saw was irrefutable. Emma was just as desirous for this as he was, and Killian was never so glad for anything in his life.

When his tongue met her sex, he tasted her need for him. Her body writhed beneath him, but he held her still, knowing she needed this from him now. She was wound up tight, the desire twisting around inside her and making her try to break away, but he built it up wanting to give her something she’d never get enough of. With slow, languid licks, he built the moment for him and her. The higher she climbed, the more crazed he himself became, but he waited until she shattered again to take his own pleasure. Once she had, though, all bets were off.

Their coming together was sensational serenity, walking the line between hard and gentle, tender and heated. Further and further they moved towards bliss, but time was off its normal tracks and their minds were filled with only this glorious moment. Soon enough, and yet not soon enough at all, they met that magic, crashing into climax. Minutes later they remained, both spent and breathing heavy, glowing from the aftermath and intertwined together, two bodies hell bent on never being parted. Killian found himself speechless in the aftermath, though his hands drew unknown figures on her skin. He had to touch her, had to hold her, even though he had just felt heaven itself. Truth be told, Killian was totally complete, and more invigorated than ever. Life had never felt more perfect and nothing had ever made more sense.

These revelations were all thanks to Emma. She was the one who made him believe love could be honest and true. She showed him depths he’d never dreamed of, and right now, as the swift and gentle tug of sleep came beckoning, she was a vision. Smiling at him, holding him close and whispering a promise he almost couldn’t bear.

“Forever, Killian,” she breathed, cuddling towards his chest after pressing one last kiss upon his skin. “That’s how long I know I’ll love you.”

“Forever, Emma,” he replied, though he knew even now she may already have succumbed to slumber. “Forever and whatever exists beyond.”

……………

Sneaking back into the castle now was a stark contrast to the many mornings he’d snuck out for a bit of space. Killian couldn’t resist smiling at how much things had changed since that time, and on those days when he walked out in the hills to watch the sunrise. However, unlike those other mornings, Killian knew the moment he walked through the great oak doors that he was not the only one up at this God forsaken hour. Call it instinct or intuition, but Killian could sense uneasiness in the palace, and as he moved up the corridor and saw light emanating from one of Liam’s studies, his hunch was proven right.  

With measured steps he approached the open door. It remained ajar, a beacon to anyone who may pass by that his brother was here but still approachable. What Killian saw when he walked to the doorway, however, was the undeniable truth that Liam was not well, and that he likely had no idea the door was open. He’d been up all night, burning the midnight oil, and studying files and photos strewn about his desk.

“For your information, you’re about…” Killian’s words trailed off as he checked the clock on the mantel to clarify the time, “twenty-two and a half minutes from being discovered by Francine or Claudette. Give or take or minute or so.”

The mention of two of the maids on the morning shift in the palace seemed to ground Liam into the reality of this moment and the predawn light outside. He looked up at Killian and then out the antique windows which offered a familiar view of the palace grounds, now bathed in the early morning sunshine. Liam let out a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair that had already been mussed with some frequency. There was no way his brother had slept this evening. He was wild and unkempt, and so far from his state of normal it was fascinating to see.

“Any other day and I’d be focused on your early morning return,” Liam mused, offering something like a smile. It surprised Killian, given how infrequent smiles had become for his brother, but before he could mention it, Liam looked back to the papers and the books strewn about the mahogany desk. Killian wasn’t sure what he expected, but these archives of the family’s public events was not it. His curiosity grew, and he urged his brother to explain himself.

“But it’s not so ordinary, is it?”

“No, she isn’t,” Liam whispered, slipping up and referring to the woman who had turned his head completely, instead of the morning itself. “I didn’t plan for this.”

“No one ever does,” Killian quipped. “Gran will be the first to tell you that to love is to surrender. Planning has no place in affairs of the heart.”

“That old bird is too crafty,” Liam said shaking his head as Killian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “All these years of talk, throwing opinions here there and everywhere. She never met a moment where words failed her and she never lets a day slip past where she doesn’t share her every whim. But I’ve always written it off as her opinion or some grandiose turn of phrase that sounds ripped from a book of clichés rather than something rooted in truth.”

“The worst are the riddles. The woman loves a riddle,” Killian added and Liam groaned, a sound of actual pain that Killian felt, despite its humor.

“I hate the bloody things. The flowery words, the abstract philosophies. It’s all just meaningless. Or so I thought. A whole life spent listening to this woman, and I never took much of it seriously. To be sure there were some times when she offered sage counsel, but I found it unlikely that she was actually providing me with answers to anything really sentimental. Half the time she’s as vague as can be. I wrote off nearly all her musings for the better part of my life.”

“Yet here we are,” Killian said evenly and Liam nodded.

“Aye, here we are.”

Liam stood from his chair and walked towards the windows. Killian watched as his brother’s arms crossed over his chest, his gaze turned out to the world, looking but not really seeing. He was lost in his own thoughts, struggling to give voice to them, and so Killian was patient. There was no use dragging Liam to conversation. His brother was guarded and grappling for control. Only when he was ready, would the truth come out. A few minutes later, after a prolonged bit of silence, they finally did.  

“I’ve long put off the inevitable, brother. Royal expectation demands that I choose a bride, but for years I’ve hesitated, unwilling to commit to any kind of match. The press has questioned my delay for ages, but that talk is mostly harmless. Still, I have always known that would change. A day would come when talk became more, and I needed to settle, to choose duty over heart.”

“You’ve said as much before, brother, but nothing in the law says that you have to forsake your heart for the sake of the country. A love match is allowed. You know this.”

“Aye, I do, but I never entertained the premise, not really. After our parents’ fiasco of a marriage, I ruled it out entirely. My best hope was for what had existed before, something arranged where, if I was lucky, love may bloom. Look at Gran and Grandad. It was love, absolutely, but it was also a merger. There was very little choice involved at all, just logic and good reasoning. At least in those situations you know what you’re getting into. There’s a safety in settling for that which is known. But fuck if I want that anymore. Truth be told the thought makes me sick, and I barely spoke to her.”

“To Elsa, you mean?” Killian prodded and Liam’s eyes brightened as he nodded.

“How can she move me like this already? One day in her presence and I hardly know myself. One day and I know that everything I thought would happen will never come to pass. I’ll never be the man that settles, not when I know she’s out there. I can’t describe it except to say that I have to know her, have to pursue this, have to hope she’ll give me a chance. I’ve never felt this out of my depths. I saw her and the rest of the world just ceased to matter. I wasn’t the King, or a ruler, or a politician. I had no duty and no course. I was just a man, and she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, plain and simple. I know it’s mad, but damn if it’s not true.”

“If it’s mad, you’re in good company. That’s exactly how I felt the first time I saw Emma.”

“That’s reassuring, and yet… it’s the strangest thing, I swear I looked at Elsa and I was halfway in a memory. I was a boy again, but the details were hazy. It just felt familiar, like we’ve met before. My heart had skipped that particular beat. My gut had felt that strongly. Now though I’m lost. I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s more than what it is. Maybe I missed something, but how could anyone ever miss her?”

“Ah that explains these books,” Killian said gesturing to everything here. “But let me guess, no sign of her in these.”

“None. But the feeling still lingers. It’s like I dreamed her up. The recognition is strong, but just barely out of grasp. God, listen to me. I’ve become an absolute melt.”

Killian couldn’t help but laugh at the slang of their youth. Their boarding schools had been filled with Brits and other Europeans, and to be a melt was to be a sop, a sap, someone who had given in to their most romantic feelings.

“Maybe, but if that’s true, God knows I’m happy for it.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am. I’ve always wanted more for you, Liam. You shouldn’t aim for mere contentment, or to just be comforted by honor and duty. The goal is to be genuinely, honestly happy, and this morning, despite the anxiety of newness, I see the start of something in you. Something good.”

“I fear I’ve been too hard on you, Killian,” Liam said, his voice softer and his tone sincere. “Not lately I mean, and hopefully you’ve noticed the shift over the past few weeks, but in the beginning, I didn’t see how you could feel so much. I asked a lot of you, with the parade and royal obligations, and I didn’t realize what the risk was. Slowly I’ve grown to understand that the changes in you I have seen can only be attributed to love. You are happy and it is clear for the world to see. I’ve respected that, but now to know it’s more than hypothetical, I just think it bears repeating. To lose this feeling…” Liam brushed his hand against his heart absentmindedly, as if his chest ached from some physical pain. “Anyway, I hate that I forced that choice upon you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s forgiven, brother. Well, it will be, if you grant me one wish.”

“Anything.”

“I’d like your blessing, and not a royal one, not a King’s well wishes. Just you, as my brother, backing me when I ask Emma to be my wife.”

The look of surprise on Liam’s face quickly morphed into a grin. There was his brother of old, the one who had existed before royal training. He was truly happy and a bit mischievous as well. The two of them had long been told they shared that smile, but coming from Liam, it felt like a most precious gift.

“You plan to ask her already?”

“Already?” Killian laughed. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever. But I suppose you’re right. It is fast.”

“Fast seems to run in this family,” Liam said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t have said that before yesterday, but as it stands, I understand. You have my backing, Killian. Emma is right for you, and if she’ll have you, we’d be lucky to have her.”

Liam came around the table, hugging Killian and showing him the depth of his joy. It was genuine, this support from his brother, and it made a world of difference. No matter what, Killian would ask Emma to be his wife, but knowing that his family felt as good about this as he did settled something in him. Now all he had to do was find the perfect moment. It was hard to be patient, especially when they’d admitted how they felt, and when he knew his feelings for Emma would only ever grow, but he’d find away. More than anything he wanted Emma to have a perfect moment, one they could build their future on forever more.

“And what of you and Elsa? Where do you go from here?”

“The only way I can go,” Liam said, resuming his assured control even though he was at the precipice of something totally foreign to him. “Towards her.”

“Good man. Trust in that feeling. It’s yet to steer me wrong.”

The two of them would have no doubt shared more, but at that moment, the voices of the morning staff could be heard down the hall. Their privacy had expired, the day had dawned, and reality beckoned, yet Killian knew even without proof, that things would work out. For now, there was a tremendous amount of hope for both him and Liam, hope that had been missing for many many years. Things may still be a bit uncertain, hearts needed to be won and vows needed to be made, but in his soul, Killian knew it would all work out. For Gran was usually right in the end, and he and Liam would both certainly surrender to love. Killian, for his part, already had, and honestly, it was the best damn thing he’d ever done. Soon, though, he would need to do more, to take the steps he so badly wanted with Emma, and to build a life with her and Henry worthy of them both. It was a mission he felt down to his bones, and one he simply would not fail. He’d find a way to their happily ever after, whatever it may look like, and the excitement of that would keep him going as long as it took.

Post-Note: So there we have it – a new chapter of this story, and the setup for the next chapter which will have more of the Elsa/Anna backstory for you all. From there we get to move towards my typical happily ever after recipe, a proposal, a wedding, and the joyful thereafter.  I think there’s going to be about 4 more installments left total (though one of those will be an epilogue and it may be quite a while before I am ready to publish that). But I promise to do my best to update more frequently than I have been. I have had so many of you sending love and wishes for faster updates, and those requests have not fallen on deaf ears. In fact, every comment and message makes writing that much easier, and I am so grateful for the overwhelming support. I promise I am doing my best to get you all this story, and just hope it’ll live up to everyone’s excited expectations. Either way, I thank you all so much for reading, and I wish you all well and healthy in this time. Sending you all the best!

[ego-driven-one-wing-angel]

FF VII - Headcanons | #3

ANON: A FF7 writing blog was what I needed right now, glad I found ya. I saw an inspiring sentence in one of your hcs: “in case s/o and Zack have a daughter together” so I felt the urge to know how he would be as a father and husband! Oh and I’m curious to know that about Sephiroth, Cloud and Angeal because they’re the best dudes. 

A/N: I had this originally written like an hour ago and it disappeared? But it’s alright, I had a lot of fun writing it anyway so I hope you enjoy!!!!!!!

ZACK FAIR AS A FATHER WOULD INCLUDE:

He’s the most supportive Dad out there, he’d try his best to protect and guide his children the best he could alongside you.

He’d also be the type to tell them everything, good or bad to prepare them for the world. He’d answer all the questions, and I mean all. He’s not embarrassed having to explain certain topics because his main goal is his children being safe and healthy and know the world can be both good and bad.

WOULD TRY TO BE THE FAVORITE PARENT

Would eat ice cream as breakfast with his kids because he too wants ice cream.

He’d be the type to say yes if you say no.

Wants to dress them up ALL the TIME. Loves doing their hair and he’ll try to take his kids to the markets dressed as strawberries because it’s fun for the two of them.

You’re unsure about the whole thing but it makes them happy.

Be the type of parent who loves them unconditionally but also the type that would forget them at a market.

He’d run back for them and apologize like he let them die, then buy unnecessary amount of stuff to say sorry.

Would also try to convince his children to join SOLDIER so they can learn to kick his butt. If they succeed, he’d be THE proud dad.

SEPHIROTH AS A FATHER WOULD INCLUDE:

Unsure about the whole thing.

Him? As a father? Sephiroth and children, together? The whole idea is super odd to him and he can’t wrap his mind around it when you first tell him.

But when he first comes in contact with them, in the flesh, reality finally creeps up on him.

He’s not sure how to be a father thanks to his lack of experience in that department. With Hojo being Hojo, and his upbringing in SOLDIER and Shinra, he’s only ever had the luxury of growing up in a professional military-like setting. He’s become psychologically detached from intimate and close relationships so it’s tough for him at first.

Because of this, he becomes accidentally strict. Not the favorite parent but he’s trying his best.

Will try to keep his kids from joining SHINRA/SOLDIER, simply because he knows what it’s really like and doesn’t want them following the same path he did, even if they are proud of him on his accomplishments. 

Also will have a hard time keeping them out of the media. Again, he knows this from experience. He doesn’t want his children to grow up the same way he did so he’ll try to keep his professional life and personal life separate as much as he can.

When they’re older he’ll try to find ways to bond, but again, this is quite difficult and it’s hard to open up to even his kids. He has to ask for your help because he just struggles through everything because he can’t. figure. it. out. And it drives him a bit mad.

CLOUD STRIFE AS A FATHER WOULD INCLUDE:

With his experience with Marlene and Denzel he’s pretty attuned to taking care of kids. Not babies, but children.

When he first gets to hold his child as a baby in his arms, he’s speechless. Looks just like you, quiet, beautiful, and he’s just melting at the idea your love together gave you something so sweet.

Wants to be the best dad, but just like with Marlene and Denzel, there’s still some confusion on how to take care of them rather than just being there.

But he would 1000% risk his life to save them. If they’re in danger, he’d go in head first to rescue them from anything. 

OVERPROTECTIVE as HECK.

Would be on the verge of an emotional breakdown if he see’s them take their first steps, say their first words, he’s just so happy for once he can’t fathom that this is reality. 

Which is why he’s overprotective. He feels like he’ll lose them any moment. He wouldn’t know how to cope if he lost you or his children, or both. It’s hard to find happiness for him and he doesn’t want to lose it.

Be the type that would be a bit overbearing. If their kid sneaks out, Cloud is running in the city/slums looking for them all night until he know’s they’re safe and sound. Might be angry about it, but when he finally finds them he’s just relieved they’re still okay.

Cloud is also they type of dad that would name his children after loved one’s that have passed. Zack and/or Aerith are high on the list of names. He’ll ask you about it, and if you say yes, he’d be on cloud nine.

Wants to do his best so he’ll try to ask for advice from random dads on the streets, or friends who have kids. Just wants to make sure everyone in his family is happy because he rarely gets it himself.

ANGEAL HEWLEY AS A FATHER WOULD INCLUDE:

Would be hesitant on the idea of being a dad. It’s not because he’s afraid of being a father, because let’s be honest, he’d be thrilled to be a dad and live a life with you, but because he’s hesitant on knowing there will be a child who bears the same genetic makeup as him.

But when he comes to terms with it, he’ll try to be the best father he could be. Teaching them the same honor and discipline he was taught in his youth.

I have a feeling he’d name one of them Zack because of the close relationship he has with him. And he’d probably hope for a son/daughter that is reminiscent of his good friend.

Would be rather thrilled to teach them the art of sword fighting, whether or not they’d join any type of military later. He believes this type of discipline would install good traits and continue the Hewley tradition.

Type of dad who would tell stories to his kids. Whether they be about morals, lessons, or just for fun, he’d bond with them the most when they’re all lying in bed together, telling stories. 

Would be the best cook. Don’t even think you could win your kids over with your cooking skills, Dad Angeal makes the best types of foods and your kids will always ask him to bake the snacks and cook dinner.

FAMILY MAN. Will be the one that plans all the family vacations and activities to spend time together. He truly loves you and his kids and will take all of you on the best trips.

He’s just real sweet with his kids in general. He wants the ultimate best for them and he’ll risk his life to get them their dreams because he knows how hard it is to accomplish your goals sometimes. 

If Zack has kids with someone at the same time, Angeal and Zack would be TM Grill Dads in a backyard barbecue. Both their kids would be the best of friends, and they’d have tons of family-friendly parties.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Diplomat’s Son & Roi (Peter Parker's iPod, Part 11.)

Description: Blip was hard. Dating MJ was a pleasure in Parker’s life, so it was even harder when she told him that things aren’t working as she anticipated - one month before college. Although they remained friends. But Peter isn’t too sure if he can handle liking yet another girl.

Part Summary: Peter hoped that everything can last forever - but he was lying to himself. When MJ finally figures out his deal, he is not in such a pleasant position - either, he has to tell you or MJ would. But telling you proves to be much more difficult than he thought.

A/N: I would say that this is some very light smut. Very light tho. Also, yes, I am aware that this playlist slowly turns into the tracks from Contra and Modern Vampires of the City by Vampire Weekend. But you cannot stop me. Also, if my calculations are right, Peter is like... Almost 19? Maybe even 20? I am lost in the timeline ffs. So WORRY NOT, IT IS LEGAL.

Word count: 4.1 K

Tagging: @fanboyswhereare-you, @lukesbabylon, @eridanuswave​

Master list: H E R E

MJ was watching every move Peter had made over the next two weeks. You knew about it, but you didn't say a word. You didn't know what Peter had done, but it seemed to be quite personal. And when something was personal between those two, you knew that you don't want any part in their beef.

Peter tried his best with being secretive while visiting you. Sometimes, as the weather got better again, you started to sneak out of the room more and more often, having Speedy showing you the best views in the whole New York. Sometimes, he bought you some of the best sandwiches in Queens, sometimes you got a pretty decent milkshake and some ice-cream.

But MJ wasn't dumb. She was a lot of things, but not dumb. Over time, as she continued with finding your room empty with your room empty and window open, she had her suspicion. And Peter was officially damned when she noticed a web hanging from the wall next to your window once she was watching a movie there with you.

It was one May morning when she was waiting for him. You were by his side, and for a reason, you had a feeling that there was something that needed to be resolved between MJ and Peter. So you just ran after Ned, telling him something about Lord of the Rings.

“Okay, Peter. I was leaving it be for a long time. But you should speak your colors finally.” - She told him, tugging him aside, next to the fountain. Peter gave her an unknowing look, furrowing a bit. But he was pretty nervous - MJ could tell based on how he hugged himself and stepped aside, tugging the strap on his shoulder a bit. Even if they weren't dating anymore, she still remembered every reaction.

“You and Y/N. What's that about? Do you think I don't know?" - She crosse her elbows on her chest, staring at Peter. Peter wanted to tell her how wrong is she, but MJ was quicker than him. - "Webs around her window, her being gone through most of the time, especially during nights, she tells everyone she does but doesn't date anyone... Parker, I know you dragged Spider-Man into this. All I want to know is what you are you trying  to archive here."

At that moment, Peter knew that MJ is onto him. She knew what was happening. And MJ knew, obviously for a long time. Parker knew that it is too late to lie to her. but how on Earth should he want to speak his mind?

"MJ, I swear that I don't want to hurt her. I know you think something like that. No. I would never." - Peter starter to stutter out, looking MJ in the face. But she didn't seem to be convinced at all. With a long exhale, she told Peter to continue with his story. - "It crossed my mind a long time ago and I told myself that its not a bad plan. I just wanted to get to know her, ask her out and stuff and I didn't know how to do any of that."

"So Spider-Man came in handy as a romance tool, is that right? Peter, this is fucking stupid." - MJ rolled her eyes. She could barely express how mad and disappointed she was with Peter. But there was no way on Earth that she'd bitch him down. Oh no. Once you'll get to know, Peter was fucked. Yeah, once you'd know about all of that, you can bitch Peter down all by yourself. - "Do you realize how much she'll be hurt once you tell her? And I'm not even speaking of the fact that if someone with dangerous connections would get to know, she could be harmed and maybe even killed. Parker..." - She sighed.

"You have to tell Y/N. The sooner, the better. And if you're too scared to tell her, she would get to know. And if it would take her more time, I'll be the one to tell her." - She told Peter with a firm tone. So, that was the last stop officially. MJ didn't play around with this sort of stuff and she wasn't just blatantly threatening Peter. She wasn't the one to do this kind of stuff. Peter could be sure that once is MJ's patience is gone, she is going to tell you everything.

"I don't care how you're going to do all of this, but fix it and be quick." - She told him the last thing she wanted to and left to catch up with Betty who was waiting for her at the fountain. To be honest, Peter didn't want to go to school at all. Now when he knew that MJ knew this secret and she could tell you every time, Peter didn't want there at all. So he just turned away from the building and walked home.

Because you weren't dumb, you noticed that Peter didn't come to literature class and that he didn't even was there when lunch came by. - "I spoke to Peter in the morning, didn't I? Or am I paranoid?" - You asked Ned with a furrow, looking at MJ after that. MJ nodded and turned to Betty to scratch her back. - "He was there, we were walking down the park, we were talking and then he left."

"Maybe he wasn't feeling good." - Ned shook his head, giving you his lettuce so you could chew on it. MJ just nodded with her lips shut. - "But it would be fair if he'd at least say hi." - You mumbled, taking the vegetables, asking MJ about the last sociology class you had. It was quite late in the evening when MJ knocked on your door, watching you scrolling through HBO with a blank stare.

Something was really off that day - you got pretty used to Speedy coming two times, sometimes even three times a week - on Thursday and Tuesday. And it was Thursday and he was nowhere to be seen as if something happened. Usually, he let you know that he won't be coming over - he left you a small note under the window when he wasn't coming by. And this time, he just disappeared and didn't give you a hint.

"You good? Don't you want to re-watch Vampire Diaries with me and Betts?" - MJ looked at you on a Thursday evening, furrowing a bit, watching you covered with the blanket. She was sure that on that Thursday, Peter won't come to see you. He was too scared for that - in her opinion, it would take him at least three to four days before he picks up enough courage to at least look your way. But you sent a smile her way and shook your head.

"You sure? I mean, I would not like you to die here. Corpses rot pretty fast according to the research I've done." - The girl rose her eyebrows, laughing when you threw a pillow her way.

"Love you, girl." - She smiled nonetheless, closing the door for you. It could be around eleven when Speedy landed in front of your window. You were already fast asleep - and he even checked if MJ is asleep too. That was when he encouraged him to open up the damn window and sneak into your room, locking the door.

Peter thought that he's ready to confess - his identity, why he did what he did, he thought that he's ready to explain everything to you. He thought so emphasize that word. In reality, he was a mess inside. Many feelings were tearing him apart. The fear of losing you or that maybe you will think that he's a liar and a cheater because both of those names would be rightfully owned by Peter. Gently, he woke you up with pressing himself onto your back, kissing your neck.

"What the hell are you doing here so late?" - You mumbled into the pillow while the boy traced a pattern on your upper back. You needed your few minutes to wake yourself up.

"I couldn't fall asleep so I decided to visit you." - Peter whispered honestly, leaning his forehead into your shoulder carefully, waiting for you to gain some form of consciousness. You were just done for.

"How nice to wake me up this late when I have to go to school tomorrow, Speedy." - You mumbled angrily, finally turning your head to look at the smiling lips. Jesus. These lips were something - but you wanted something more. It was quite some time you two were meeting and probably if he wouldn't be such a gentleman, you would already do stuff together. It was quite obvious that this time, you're the one to do the first baby steps. - "You were only thinking about yourself." - You mumbled, pulling out a subtle smile.

"No, I just... I just wanted to talk with you." - He said sincerely, looking you in the eyes with a furrow. This was his chance - but to wait for what you had to say was a mistake. Because you made something different out of the context.

"But I don't want to talk." - You whispered back, scooping so close that you could feel him breathing. I probably was even that he woke you up - and in the night, you could be a greedy beast when it came to that.

To be honest, Peter wasnt the only one to feel the subtle click that happened one night. The feeling just somehow was there - it was that light feeling that made you feel that maybe, just maybe, you can do some stuff together. Something in your mind was making you keen on that mysterious boy - you only knew that his father figure was dead and that he was fourteen when he got all of these crazy powers. You didn't know anything more - but for a reason, you were attracted. He was almost oddly familiar as if you knew the smell and that smile, but you only thought that because you already knew each other for a fairly long time. You remembered the way he moved around your room and in the streets, you knew the way he smiled at you... You knew everything.

"So do you want me to leave?" - Peter asked nervously, still smoothing your shoulder because he didn't have any idea what to do or what were you talking about.

"I don't want you to leave either, dummy. Come here." - You mumbled under your breath, bringing him in for a kiss. Quickly, you closed your eyes, kicking the damned blanket off your bed, making him fall on you. Oh, Peter finally figured out that you didn't want to speak since you had something much different on your mind.

"Or... I mean... Do you want to tell me something? Something’s wrong?" - You asked worriedly, smoothing his back gently as you both tried to catch your breath.

"It... Can wait, I think. Nothing serious." - Peter stuttered out before you got into your all-time favorite position - the Spider boy was hovering above you, your knee was leaning into his hip and practically, he was pressing you down into the mattress. You nodded before clinging onto him, trying to bring him down a bit just to feel his body onto yours. You usually went in with some nice, soft, and slow kisses - that day, it seemed rushed, harsh, almost too aggressive. You even bumped into his teeth with yours once or twice. And that was when the craziest question just left your mouth.

"Do you think you can take this off?" - You asked with your eyes closed, tugging the spandex off of his body a bit. That made Peter open his eyes pretty wide, watching you. - "I mean, the mask can stay, of course. I just want to feel... You." - You opened up your eyes, smoothing his jaw gently. - "I'll take this off, of course. Let's just do this in underwear this time. I wanna see how it goes, please." - You begged.

Peter rolled his eyes under the mask, catching his breath. That sounded so nice. Just the idea of it made him smile a bit and his cheeks redden, immediately forgetting about the thing he had to say to you. - "Only if you won't make me talk when I do it." - He said shortly. There was still the little fear that once you'd hear his voice, it would all be out. You furrowed a bit at that, but nodded almost instantly, already sitting up to play some music.

That night belonged to Contra and Modern Vampires of the City, both albums by Vampire Weekend; since you grew to love them when listening to them with Peter a lot. Before looking at him, you smelled both your armpits and checked what underwear you had on. Well, since you forgot to take off the bra since you came home from school, this part of your body looked rather decent. Your panties weren't such a hit, but having hearts all over them was acceptable when you turned your head a bit and looked at him standing with his back to you only in his boxer shorts which were kinda too big for him.

And he had some really thin legs. He was cute. And so solid that your breath stuck for a while. You shifted your weight on your feet. Only the back had sent you to heaven. And woke you up definitely. You shot your look back in front of yourself, feeling your heart beating a bit faster.

"So, because we don't want this turn to a naughty shit show, Imma climb under the blanket. I promised not to look, but just to feel, yeah?" - You asked silently. Since he wasn’t speaking, as he said previously, you waited until he nodded, and then, you walked to the bed, picking the blanket from the floor and listening to Diplomat’s Son. Then you turned away, listening to the boy coming to the bed, feeling as the mattress got down under his weight.

Once he was giving you the vibe that he's ready, you looked at the parts your eyes had already discovered - his lips, jaws, and neck. The rest was still a mystery. But you jumped a little when you felt the contact of naked skin on your naked skin. He was so warm and his skin was so... Gentle. Except when you slowly dragged your foot on his calf, that thing was hairy and sticky.

You two forgot how to kiss or even breathe as you slowly put your palms on his waist, as you usually did during your sessions. You didn't even focus on if his muscles as hard as a rock, no, you smiled when your thumb found mold on his ribs and you circled it.

"You feel so nice." - You said quietly, kissing a small, sweet spot on his collarbone. Which made the boy give in into your touch, exhaling slowly with his eyes closed. - "And you smell nice too." - You smiled and bit him playfully, making him jump at the feeling of your teeth.

Jesus, he would like to tell you the same thing. That you look beautiful with your hair around your head like a halo, that your smell alone makes his head spin and that feeling your arch of the foot was making him excited. But he only leaned in to put his palm on your jaw so he could kiss you.

When Peter was sure-sure you don't mind it and that your eyes are closed for real, he let you bend your head so he could kiss you down on your neck, brushing the collarbone gently. It would maybe seem funny to other guys your age who had nightstands at parties and stuff, but for both of you, this was something extraordinary.

Sure, you were with guys before, but you never took it so slow. You knew Speedy since March, already, but you guys only made out. Most of the guys would bend you over in their super suit and then, they would disappear, never seeing you again. There was some kind of vibe that Gonzales isn't like them. But also, for men, he took it painfully slow. So this was the best first step you could make him do before pushing off from the cliff with something more.

You whimpered and moved a bit when his palm found your waist, having a joyful smile with your eyes still closed. Gently, you touched that palm, feeling the veins on it pretty intensely. - "Kiss me and close your eyes, okay?" - You whispered, looking at him. And he did as you told him, feeling as you moved the palm up to your ribs, then even more up under your armpit.

Without realization, he jumped a bit when he felt the material of your bra with his fingers, pushing his body into yours more, moaning into the kiss. And it was the sweetest and purest moans you've ever heard. Just when you wanted to move his palm even upper, he stopped kissing you and looked you in the eyes. Or at least you thought he did so.

With heavy breathing, he looked on his palm on that material, then looking you in the eyes. Slowly, you let go of that palm, palming his jaw again. You listened to the first notes of the Taxi Cab before you nodded. You were on fire at that moment.

"Just do it, I want you to." - You begged, putting your knee up to his waist so your foot was resting on his ass. Damn, that was a nice ass to touch. And Peter just did as he was told. And in the first moment, he couldn't even understand that he is holding your breast in his palm. At least until he squeezed and opened his mouth as he watched you bent your head backward, making the most erotic sound he had ever heard.

That deep moan sent shivers down Peter’s spine - and Jesus, he wanted more. So naturally, he leaned his weight onto his right elbow, still laying above you, palming it once again. Just as you swore each other, he didn't look at what he’s doing, he watched your joyful face. Carefully, he palmed your breast once more before he tried something he read in a magazine and tried only once. And he was worried that he's about to fuck it up.

To keep you moaning, Spider boy kissed a trail down to where his palm was while he pressed the palm down on your chest. Peter was pretty handy with making you occupied - so you couldn't say since when his palm was put flat on your abdomen, but suddenly, you could feel it there. Before you could protest, that boy shut you up with a kiss, getting your leg off his ass, smoothing the back of your thigh. The only thing you were capable of was to close your eyes when his lips gently touched your breast again.

You knew what he's about to try, so you circled a hand around his shoulder, spreading the legs a bit wider when Speedy’s palm pressed on your hip, playing with the hem of your panties. Just when he was about to do it, he stopped kissing your breasts to look you in the eyes. And dear lord, you almost went insane when he finally palmed your fanny. Peter watched every small reaction you could give him - but the hottest thing, except another quiet and deep moan, was your body leaning into the touch.

You couldn't breathe at that time. When he wanted to lean away from you a bit, letting go of that warm spot, you caught the palm, staring at him. - "It's fine. Please." - You whispered, kissing him again. Peter steadied himself, coughing a bit nervously, taking a deep breath when he slipped under the piece of cloth.

Oh wow, oh damn, the chaos inside him was... Wow. You were hot and wet down there - so much that it surprised him. It was a kind of a puzzle for a while to figure out the angle for further. When he brushed that spot, you let him know - you squealed and bit your lips harshly, your eyebrow knitting with concentration. You nodded when he tried it a few other times, picking up both the location of the bundle of nerves and speed you liked, bending down to kiss your breasts.

You soon started to travel a little, feeling as the spot between your legs started to get even hotter as the claims started to appear out of nowhere. Just when you felt that you cant do it for a moment longer, you made him shut you up with a kiss so you could moan into his lips as you palmed your breast, taking out the nipple. You could hear both your excited breathing, your moaning, his whimpering, and the fingers brushing that spot while Roi by VIDEOCLUB was playing.

It was getting more and more intense and extreme until you closed your eyes firmly, leaned from him and moaned oh fuck yes, oh, oh my God in various order possibly a hundred times. You were shaking, you couldn't catch your breath and your thighs captured his palm while he tried to do his best with prolonging that state you were in. The French rap in your ears got even louder than before and boy oh boy, you were seeing the stars. Everything just mixed up together and it was such a beautiful experience.

When you could breathe again, you smiled lazily. You were done for; dear lord, how much you wanted to repay Speedy, but you were out of order. You could barely move or breathe, you couldn't speak nor thinks. You just let him hug you as you brought him closer and kissed his cheek.

A few minutes after, you both got dressed up - you gave him some wet wipes to clean his hand before slipping into the suit, and even if you didn't repay him in any way, he seemed to more than fine with it. You were radiating with happiness when you put on a fresh, long shirt and a fresh pair of panties, leaving the bra behind. The room smelled like sweat, sin, and some kind of naughty activities.

"Did you... Really... I know its weird, but, did you..." - He mumbled from dressing up and you watched as the suit covered his back again. - "Are you asking me if I came?" - You whispered with a smile, waiting for him to join you in the bed. Before sitting next to you, he nodded, being red as tomatoes.

"I came. That was... One of the most amazing ones I had. Surely the wildest one." - You whispered and kissed his chest in the spandex once you both laid down again.

"I wasn’t sure what to do at all." - He chuckled lightly and you looked at his lips before you raised your stare to his face. Could he be honest with not having too much experience in this area? That left you in slight awe, honestly.

"You were doing great. What was that you wanted to talk about?" - You mumbled, putting your head on his shoulder. That made Peter get outta the trans rather quickly. His hand around your waist stiffened for a second. No way he could tell you at that moment. No fucking way. He just made you cum - no.

"Nothing. You wanna talk about something?" - He answered nervously. You grinned and nodded.

"I'll be out of New York next weekend, a need a little getaway. You up?" - You asked, making him terrified, but at the last moment, Peter realized you're just shitting him. - "You can have your suit on during the day and sleep only in underwear in the night. How does that sound?"

"I've never heard a better idea, Y/N. I've never heard a better one."  - Peter closed his eyes and kissed the top of your head, thinking about how fucked up he was.

[ladylynse]

Part IX of The Trouble with Ghosts [FF | AO3] for @queenofhearts7378​! Sorry this took me forever.

Lancer hadn’t realized how closely young Mr. Fenton’s school troubles–and the secrets he surely wasn’t telling his parents–were tied to ghosts until after that encounter with Phantom.

<<  < Part IX >

-|-

Lancer still expected a denial, even as Phantom shrunk into himself and hung his head.

It never came.

He’d thought it would. Somehow, after all of this, he’d thought it would. That was…easier than this, really. He’d rather think Phantom had enlisted Danny Fenton’s help and taught him how to fight. He’d rather their wounds were simply similar, left from having the same holes in their defenses. He wished the injuries weren’t identical, that they weren’t the same injuries. It would be so much easier if they weren’t.

He still didn’t understand.

Not really.

But whether it was some sort of strong connection or if the worst had really happened, if the accident Phantom had mentioned had led to poor Mr. Fenton’s death….

“Danny.” Lancer didn’t know who he meant anymore. Fenton or Phantom. One or both. It didn’t matter. “You can’t avoid this forever.”

“But I’m not ready.” The words were whispered. “I don’t want forever. I know that probably won’t happen. I just want not now. Some other time.”

Lancer sighed. “Running and hiding won’t solve your problems.”

“No.” The admission was barely audible. “It’ll buy me time, though.”

But at what cost?

“Jazz will come up with something else,” he insisted. “They’re not…. They can’t be the priority right now. I’m more worried about Vlad, about…this.” He straightened up again. “You don’t get it, Mr. Lancer. You can’t just ignore Vlad’s power.”

He very clearly didn’t get much of this situation, but at least the issue with the mayor was on more familiar ground.

“I don’t intend to ignore it. Ignoring one’s problems does not make them go away. But neither does avoiding them.”

Phantom—Danny—blew out a breath. “Okay, okay. I know. I’ll come up with something to tell them if Jazz doesn’t. But seriously. Vlad. I don’t know how strong my ecto-signature is when I’m like this. I don’t know if it’s suppressed at all, like everything else, but even if it is, the Red Huntress will be able to find me with her ghost tracker if she gets close enough. And she might try to confirm that I’m here when she’s not suited up, which is why you can’t tell anyone.”

Lancer raised an eyebrow. “Or you could tell me who she is so I won’t make any mistakes.”

Danny shook his head. “No. That’s her secret, not mine. No matter how many times you ask, I’m not going to tell you.”

“Then do you have a solution to propose that doesn’t involve me turning you out?”

Danny groaned. “C’mon, it can’t be that hard for you to trust me now that you know, right? I’ve dealt with this kind of thing before. Vlad’s hit me with this kind of thing before—”

“That is not the impression you gave me earlier.”

“It wasn’t as long lasting, but it still did this, whatever this is. And I’m feeling a lot better than I was yesterday. I don’t think anyone besides Vlad’s gonna come after me like this—even Skulker isn’t big on easy prey when he’s not the reason behind it—so I can just give him and the Red Huntress the slip—”

“Either you are staying right where you are or I am going with you.”

“But Vlad—”

“I’ve taken the mandatory ghost-hunting courses.”

Danny snorted. “Dad taught those courses.” It was still jarring to hear him say it, to have it confirmed yet again, but he was continuing on before Lancer had a chance to say something. “He couldn’t teach anyone to aim properly, even if he could explain what you need to do. And even if he could, that wouldn’t help you with Vlad.”

“I’m not planning to go head-to-head with the mayor,” Lancer said dryly, “but I do think I could hold my own against some of his hired help if it comes to it.”

Danny did not bother to hide the blatant doubt on his face, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he said, “Vlad wants me because of who I am and what I am. And he probably understands what I am better than I do. But my parents don’t know that. They think he gave up everything to do with ghosts back in their university days. Moved on to greener pastures. But he didn’t. He just got better at hiding his tracks.”

“You’ve alluded to as much before.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if it’s really sunk in for you. Mr. Lancer, he’s fooled so many people. And if something comes up that makes him look bad, he’ll find a way to turn it back on whoever it was. If he finds out you’re helping me, he can probably get you fired. For ‘colluding with ghosts’ or something like that. He’s gotta have some pull with the school board; all he’d need to do is threaten to withhold some promised donation money or something like that.”

Lancer sincerely doubted Danny was aware of how much Mr. Masters’s donations helped with the cleanup and repair costs from all the ghost fights, but he supposed it wasn’t difficult to deduce.

“Are you really willing to risk your job, your life, on this?”

Lancer let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry you think so little of me,” he said quietly, “that you do not think I am willing to practice what I preach. I want the best for my students, and yes, even though we are no longer in a school setting, I will risk my life to protect you. This is not simply lip service for me. I have many colleagues across the country who take similar risks, and we do not take our responsibilities lightly.”

Danny stared at him, and Lancer had the feeling he still wasn’t entirely believed.

“It takes a village, remember?” he prodded gently. “Not everything must be done on your own. So, please, for your sake if no one else’s, tell me what I need to know to help you.”

Danny bit his lip. Then, finally, “Vlad’s…obsessed.”

Lancer fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You have been implying that,” he said, allowing a bit of testiness to leak into his tone. There was only so much he could do, so many ways he could break it down. If Danny still refused to tell him everything, well, then Lancer would just have to face whatever the danger was with blinders on and hope for the best.

“No, I mean, I think he’s actually obsessed. And…. I don’t know if he realizes that. If he can realize that. I don’t…. I’ve never asked if you can recognize it in yourself, or if it’s just so much a part of who you are that you can’t see it.”

This time, Lancer waited instead of prompting Danny further.

He wasn’t entirely sure he understood enough to properly prompt him, anyway.

“Something happened to him. Back in his college days, I mean. And he basically cut all ties with my parents until that reunion he hosted last year. But ever since he reconnected with them, ever since he found out about me, he’s just gotten so much worse. Like he can’t stop himself. He’s…. It’s bad, Mr. Lancer.”

“He is as intent on hunting you down as your parents, then?” Lancer asked cautiously. “Simply with more skill and knowledge of the whole story on his side?”

“No, I mean, I said before, he doesn’t want to kill me. At least, I don’t think he does. He just…. He’s tried to clone me. And it’s gone wrong, really wrong, but he keeps trying. He does some accelerated growth thing and…. I dunno. I don’t understand it. But he seems to have gotten the idea in his head that if he can’t have me, some lookalike is the next best thing. Except he still wants me me. To be his son.” Perhaps catching the expression on Lancer’s face, Danny nodded. “Yeah, he’s some seriously crazed up fruit loop.”

Lancer thought over Danny’s words and chose his next ones carefully. “You don’t believe he realizes how far he’s gone? How many lines he’s crossed?”

Danny shook his head. “And the Red Huntress doesn’t know what I am. She just thinks I’m the ghost that ruined her life. She won’t figure out the truth until it’s too late. And the ghosts like Skulker, well, I’m just kinda in their way. Most of them won’t care if I’m gone.”

“Maybe you should tell her.”

“What?”

“The Red Huntress. Maybe you should tell her. If you can’t bring yourself to tell your parents yet, start with her. You’ve worked together in the past. She’ll listen. I can back you up.”

“Uh….”

“Or would you rather I call the emergency hotline your parents set up and give them the information about their son that they’re so desperately looking for?”

“Isn’t that blackmail?”

“Isn’t it in your best interest?”

“Not really. The truth isn’t exactly great for either of us. The current dynamic is better. She’s, um, not going to be as hurt this way as she would be if she knew the truth.”

Danny genuinely seemed to believe his words, if the quiet acceptance in his tone was anything to go by. Frankly, Lancer found it rather astounding. He couldn’t seem to see the parallels, perhaps didn’t want to see them, and had managed to convince himself that keeping himself in danger—Lancer would call it mortal peril if anyone else were involved—was better for everyone, himself included.

He didn’t want to be a bother.

Didn’t want to rock the boat.

Truly believed keeping all of this to himself protected others.

“You do realize,” Lancer said, “that the Red Huntress—and your parents—would be hurt far more if they realized the truth only once it was too late?”

Danny didn’t meet his eye. Lancer was prepared to keep pressing this point—he was determined to keep bringing it up until he made some progress on that front—but then the doorbell rang, and he wasn’t prepared to leave someone standing on his doorstep. After all, it was just as likely to be Mr. and Mrs. Fenton trying a new tactic to find their son as it was some door-to-door salesman or a volunteer knocking on doors to see if he would support Mr. Masters in the next municipal election.

Who he found, however, was one of his students.

Valerie Gray.

She looked as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

“Miss Gray,” he said, “aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

“It’s lunch,” she said, and he wondered how he could have forgotten that when he’d used it as an excuse to visit Phantom. Danny. “I’m selling chocolate covered almonds on my break to raise money for my dojo. Three dollars a box if you’re interested.” She held one up and shook it for emphasis.

“I…yes. I’ll take a box.” Where had he left his wallet? It wasn’t in his pocket, and he didn’t have any spare change on him. He couldn’t just leave her standing on the stoop like this. “Come in for a moment, Miss Gray. I believe I have some change on the counter.”

She slipped inside without further prompting. “I’ll put your almonds on the table,” she said, and he nodded in acknowledgement even as he began to search for the coins he could’ve sworn had been there last week. “Do you mind if I use your washroom? I’ll be quick.”

“Down the hall to your right,” he answered. He was trying to remember what martial arts training she had; hadn’t she done an assignment on that earlier in the year? He remembered that she was skilled at it, whatever it was. Tetslaff praised Valerie’s skill in gym more often than not, though she always made a point of it whenever one of the others expressed concern about Valerie stretching herself too thin.

They all saw the strain she was under, of course. Being teachers did not make them blind to the social whiplash she must have faced with her fall from grace. It was no secret that Paulina no longer considered her a friend, now that Valerie was among the working class, just as it was no secret that Valerie had had to pick up a job in the hopes of paying for college. They were doing what they could for her, just as they were for all their students—offering make up exams and extensions when circumstances demanded it and letting their students know about scholarship opportunities and the like—but he hadn’t realized she’d been able to keep up her martial arts training. Did Elmerton have a volunteer group at its community centre? Perhaps Valerie taught in her spare time, trying to cash in on how good such a thing would look on university and scholarship applications….

“Danny? What are you doing here?”

Lancer’s heart jumped into his throat even as his fingers finally closed upon the stash of quarters that had somehow made their way behind his coffee pot.

Valerie had turned left, not right.

“Your parents are looking for you everywhere!” Valerie exclaimed as Lancer headed down the hallway, desperate to make the best of the situation.

He hadn’t entirely expected to walk into the spare bedroom and find Danny Fenton staring back at him with pleading eyes.

Danny Fenton.

With, as before, the very same injuries as Phantom.

He’d been such a fool.

Lancer cleared his throat. “As you can see, Mr. Fenton is a little worse for the wear. He, ah, tried to help me during a ghost attack.” It wasn’t a lie. He still wasn’t entirely sure how, but it wasn’t a lie. “That did not work out for him. I thought it best that he rest before heading home.”

Valerie narrowed her eyes. “Why not just take him to the hospital? Or at least call Mr. and Mrs. Fenton?”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t aware that they were searching for him.” She didn’t believe him; he could read that much on her face. He doubted anyone in Amity Park was unaware that Mr. and Mrs. Fenton were missing their son. “Rest assured, I will correct this oversight as soon as possible.”

It wasn’t a good excuse, even in Amity Park, and they all knew it.

She could get him fired for this if she tried. It wouldn’t be difficult for her to spin it just the wrong way if she so desired. He didn’t think she would—at least, he hoped she wouldn’t—but he wasn’t exactly everyone’s favourite teacher, either.

“It’s not his fault,” Danny whispered, drawing their attention. “I asked him not to tell Mom and Dad. Or to take me to the hospital.”

Valerie did not bother to hide the incredulous look on her face.

“I got hurt in a ghost fight, Val,” Danny said. “How do you think my parents would take that?”

He wasn’t lying. He was managing to tell her the truth while making it seem something it wasn’t, and he was doing it with terrifying ease. Lancer was, of course, very familiar with Danny Fenton’s outright lies. They were awful. These…weren’t.

These selected truths made it painfully clear how he could have been mistaken.

Valerie made a face. “They’d probably try to send you to school with weapons that you’d then get confiscated.”

“Only if I’m lucky enough that they didn’t quarantine me at home for a week first to make sure I didn’t get contaminated or something because I wasn’t wearing a HAZMAT suit.”

A HAZMAT suit. Like Phantom wore. Like Jack and Maddie Fenton wore.

He really had been a fool.

“A week wouldn’t be bad if it meant avoiding that in the future,” Valerie said, looking him up and down.

Danny’s mouth twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile, even by Lancer’s low standards. “Trust me, whatever they did to me, it wouldn’t avoid stuff like this. That possibility’s always going to be in my future. I’m a Fenton, after all.”

And a phantom. Another similarity he hadn’t put together. He wondered if anyone had. Jazz, perhaps, if Danny hadn’t simply told her and his friends, and he supposed that would’ve been the only way for Vlad Masters to know about him. Danny certainly wouldn’t have volunteered information like that to someone who had practically been a stranger.

Especially not when he was so reluctant to tell the truth to those he was close to when it would help him.

“You really think the ghosts are going to target you for that? I’ve never seen them do that in the past.”

Maybe she hadn’t, but she—like the rest of them—clearly hadn’t seen a lot of things that had happened in the past.

“Really?” Danny asked, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you forgetting the last time my parents went all over town looking for me?”

Valerie winced. “Okay, fine, but I’ve been keeping an eye on you and Jazz, and you guys don’t seem to get it worse than anyone else. Everyone got that weird ghost flu. Except for, like, you and Tucker. How did you guys get around that, anyway?”

Why was she keeping such a close eye out that she’d know that?

Danny shrugged, not finding anything odd about Valerie’s words. Lancer wondered if there was something else he was missing or if this was simply how teenagers—friends—talked these days. Given that this was Amity Park, it very well might be standard practice to watch each other’s backs. More so than anywhere else, at least.

“Probably some combination of luck and Tuck’s fear of doctor’s offices and everything else. Anyway, what are you doing here? You don’t have any reason to be hiding out.”

“My dojo’s having a fundraiser.”

“You’re still doing that?” Danny asked. “You’ve got, like, a ninth-degree black belt. How many are there?”

Lancer blinked. He hadn’t remembered that Miss Gray was quite so adept at martial arts.

Valerie crossed her arms. “Ten.”

“Is that even attainable?”

Valerie smirked. “Not for someone who doesn’t work their butt off for years and years.”

Lancer hadn’t even realized it was possible to attain a black belt by high school, let alone anything past the first degree.

“I mean, it’s not something I’ll get for a long time, but I definitely won’t get it if I don’t do stuff like this. Three bucks a box for chocolate covered almonds. You in?”

“You know me, Val. I’m broke. I’m lucky I can scrape together enough to grab something at the Nasty Burger. Sorry. You’ll have to hit up Jazz when you get back to school, though. She’s got a sweet tooth and always carries cash.”

Lancer thought this as good a time as any to break back into the conversation, so he cleared his throat and held out the change to Valerie. “I hope you don’t mind that it’s in quarters.”

“I can keep track of it,” she said, pocketing the money. “Thanks.”

She lingered, eyes darting around the room even though Danny’s never left her face.

She was looking for something.

He was waiting to see what she would do.

“Is there something else I can help you with, Miss Gray?”

She seemed to have forgotten her earlier request for the washroom because she shook her head. “No, sorry, Mr. Lancer. I’ll go. I’ll, um, see you soon. Get better, Danny, okay?”

“Quick as I can,” he promised, and Valerie slipped past him, still looking around as she headed back to the front door.

He knew he should follow behind her and lock it after she’d gone, but he was starting to realize that wouldn’t help him in the slightest.

She’d come here looking for something, and even if Danny believed her story about fundraising, believed she could have a ninth-degree black belt at her age, Lancer was beginning to see that not everything added up.

He didn’t doubt that Valerie had been trained in the martial arts. Even if it weren’t for Tetslaff’s praise of her in the staff room, her overall fitness made that clear enough. And he knew of her grit, her determination, her sheer strength of will; even in English class, that came through.

But she hadn’t come here to sell him chocolates.

She hadn’t come here to recruit his help to look for her missing classmate.

She hadn’t asked to use the washroom because she’d needed it, nor because she was just idly curious and wanted to poke around his house now that she was here.

Like Danny, Valerie’s grades had also slipped. Not as much, not so drastically, and he’d always attributed it to the turmoil that had befallen her and her father in their personal lives. He didn’t need to know the whole story to see its effects. She wasn’t getting as much sleep. She was tired, worn out, even considering how busy she was kept at her job at the Nasty Burger; she certainly wasn’t the first student to take on a job like that in high school to begin saving for college.

Except it was more than that.

There were her vehement essays—when he gave the class the freedom to choose their topics, within reason—on the trouble with ghosts. The insistence that Phantom, considered by many a hero, was anything but. The biased view (despite presenting sources) that was clearly tainted by her own life experiences and the rhetoric spouted by the Fentons.

The Red Huntress will be able to find me with her ghost tracker if she gets close enough.

The fact that she had come here looking for something and not found it.

Something that had led her straight to Danny.

To Phantom.

She might try to confirm that I’m here when she’s not suited up.

And the fact that, now that he thought about it, Valerie disappeared nearly as often as Danny these days.

And if Danny wasn’t hiding anywhere except plain sight….

“Danny.” Would he even get the truth if he asked? “Do we need to be worried?”

Surprise froze on Danny’s face. He was too slow to rearrange his features into mild confusion. “What?”

“Do we need to be worried?” He wasn’t going to say I or you, not after his insistence that they were in this together, whether Danny liked it or not.

“What are you talking about?”

Oh, for The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, he knew exactly what Lancer was talking about.

“About Miss Gray,” he ground out, his understanding that Danny simply wanted to protect someone else’s secret not outweighing the fact that Valerie was also one of his teenaged students who was routinely risking her life. “About her benefactor. About the fact that she must be suspicious about something, even if she isn’t sure what’s wrong. About the fact that she might not be the last person to visit right now.”

“Uh….”

“Please do not try to deny it, Mr. Fenton.” It was still Mr. Fenton. Even…even if he was also Phantom. Somehow. Lancer pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve as good as laid the facts out in front of me. I can only be blind to so much.” It would be easier to be blind to it all, but he’d never signed up for easier. “It’s not as hard to see now that I know…more.”

Danny said nothing.

Once again, the lack of a denial spoke for him.

“I even might have been able to piece it together if we were still calling her the Hunter, or the Red Hunter, or whatever it began as. Something a good sight better than Inviso-Bill, I imagine.”

“Vlad’s puns are terrible,” Danny muttered.

But he still didn’t deny it.

Crime and Punishment, but Lancer wished he would have denied it.

How had two of his students become entangled in such serious matters? Worse still, the mayor—the mayor—was perpetuating the problem by hunting down one, treating him as a science experiment, and purposefully misguiding the other to the point where she would…could….

She’d done this to him, Lancer realized.

She’d caused the very wounds about which she was so worried.

She had to show me some of her new weapons.

Vlad Masters was giving weapons to a student, fully aware that she was using them against another student. Encouraging it, even.

She had a few I wasn’t expecting.

He was even inventing weaponry Jack and Maddie Fenton hadn’t dreamed up. Using his knowledge of Danny’s secret to better design them. Using his position of power to put more pressure on Phantom, on Danny. Lancer hadn’t forgotten that million dollar reward.

He doesn’t want to kill me.

He just wanted something so much worse.

The Red Huntress doesn’t know what I am. She won’t figure out the truth until it’s too late.

Danny had said as much earlier, just before the Huntress herself had come knocking. And he had lied to her face, albeit mostly half truths and lies of omission and not correcting her assumptions, and Lancer knew Danny was right. She wouldn’t figure it out until it was too late. And if things continued the way they were, it would be. Valerie was too fixated on her beliefs to do anything but dismiss evidence that dared contradict them.

At least….

At least, she would be if Danny was not forthright.

“This cannot continue.”

“What?”

Lancer looked down at Danny, still sitting in bed. He was too young to have all of this on his shoulders. He still didn’t understand. He still didn’t realize that refusing to share this burden wouldn’t lighten the load of anyone else but merely weigh them down with different troubles.

He meant well, but he was wrong.

“This cannot continue,” Lancer repeated.

Fear, in every line of Danny’s suddenly tense body. “No, you can’t tell them. You promised!”

“I never promised that,” Lancer said quietly, “and I certainly never promised you a rose garden.”

A brief flicker of confusion as the reference went over Danny’s head—Lancer supposed he couldn’t blame him; it had just been one of the book options which his students could choose to read and write about, and Danny hadn’t picked that book, let alone pretended to read it—and then the fear was back. “No, please, Mr. Lancer, you still don’t know everything, and—”

“Then for The Life of Pi, tell me the rest of it!” He hadn’t meant to snap, but he was at his wit’s end. Danny was still keeping secrets, dangerous ones, and—

“Vlad’s like me!”

-|-

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@cosmic-melodies

[unfolded73]

How Do We Get Back (1/16) - schitt’s creek ff

(AO3 link)

Summary:  In a literal alternate universe where the Roses escaped financial ruin, David and Patrick struggle with loneliness and a sense that something isn’t right. A chance meeting in New York and a terrible tragedy drive them to question whether the timeline they are on is the right one.

Notes:  I'm really excited to start posting this fic which has been obsessing me for a few weeks. Thanks to @j-philly-b for being my New York-native nit-picker - pizza fight forever. See notes at the end for warnings about plot elements in this fic ... or don't if you prefer not to know.

Rating will be explicit in later chapters. This chapter 3.5k words.

______________________________

Soft music played from somewhere, infused into the space like just the right amount of an expensive perfume: not enough to draw attention to itself, but enough to help round out the aesthetic with taste and class. The white walls positively glowed under warm, carefully selected lighting, offering a contrast to the pieces on offer to buyers. Minimalist and spare, every item was lovingly placed by the owner in exactly the perfect spot to highlight its assets and mask its flaws. It was why buyers went out of their way to come here, or so the proprietor had been told in more prosperous days.

“Tell me about this sculpture,” said a woman in a severe suit and a severe haircut and impossibly high heels.

David Rose, the gallerist she was addressing, put his hands together in an obsequious manner and walked over to stand at her side. Her command had come without the courtesy of turning and looking at him; rather with the expectation that she would get a prompt response — she was the kind of woman who always got a prompt response.

“This is another exciting piece by Devonaé Streeter. She works out of New York now, but after a few months in Prague—”

“I don’t want to hear about the artist. Tell me about the work.”

David squinted an eye at the bronze sculpture, standing its solitary vigil on a white pedestal. He imagined the… woman? it depicted was looking back at him, or would have been if she had more than empty eye sockets to look at him with. He launched into his patter.

“Devonaé’s bronze works often challenge the viewer to look past the grotesque features of the art to see the grotesque features in themselves. This particular figure is an allegory for the way in which we fail to recognize each other’s pain, and I think—”

The woman turned on her heel and walked away, dismissing him and the statue with one quick wave of her hand. She turned her attention to the art on the walls, scanning over the canvasses quickly. David could almost see the calculations going on behind her eyes, like a scrolling ticker on a cable business news show. She wasn’t here to appreciate the art, she was here to find something to invest in. Most of them were, especially people like her.

“Tell me about that one,” she said, pointing to the largest canvas.

David winced. He would have taken the painting in question down a while ago, or perhaps never would have hung it in the first place, if he weren’t hurting a little bit for artists these days. And of course if he hadn’t signed a contract. He’d met Carmen at a party, and okay yes, she’d seemed a little crazy at the time but he’d assumed that was because of all the drugs they were taking. He’d agreed to display her art in his gallery. Now, months later, not a single one of the paintings had ever sold.

Clearing his throat, David said, “Carmen Herrera. She has a… unique vision, as you can see from this piece.” He focused on the track lighting above the painting as he talked; he’d never been able to look at this piece without developing an anxious flutter in his stomach. “It is intended to shock, of course. The worshippers…” He let his eyes glance over the blood-soaked imagery, wondering why he was bothering. This woman was never going to buy one of Carmen’s paintings. “The worshippers hurt themselves and each other at the behest of their goddess.” He gestured vaguely upward.

“Mictēcacihuātl,” the woman murmured.

“Umm… bless you?”

“The Aztec goddess of death,” she explained, still staring at the painting.

“Oh, uhh, yes exactly,” he vamped. “Personally, I’ve always thought the worshippers represent the American electorate, voting against their own self interest because of the lies politicians tell them.” He didn’t really think that. He wasn’t sure Carmen could have said, if pressed, who the President of the United States even was. But he gave potential buyers this line, figuring they might recoil a little less from the painting if they thought it was allegorical.

The sharp-suited woman couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of it. “No, I don’t think that’s what it’s about,” she said. Then she turned to him. “I’ll take it.”

David gaped at her for a second before he recovered enough to respond. “Yes, of course.”

After several minutes of dealing with the payment and shipping, tasks that always made David’s palms sweat with anxiety that he’d screw up some detail of the transaction, the woman was gone and the gallery was quiet as a tomb — its usual state. David sighed and looked up at Carmen’s terrifying painting. “See you never, you creepy fucker.”

He walked back into his office and pulled out his phone. Opening Instagram, David scrolled aimlessly through posts by celebrities and influencers, many of whom he had met and a few of whom he had fucked. When no images of his sister appeared after a few minutes of scrolling, he pulled up her profile and checked her last post — two days ago, which was very unlike Alexis. David’s heart started to hammer in his chest with familiar worry for his sister. He checked the time and counted forward. It would be close to midnight in Italy, probably as good a time as any to catch her on her phone.

Hey r u ok? he texted, and then spent a full minute watching for any sign of a return message before he clicked off the screen and tossed the phone onto his desk with a huff. Then when that dramatic gesture didn’t give him a result, he picked his phone up again, just in time for it to vibrate with an incoming call. He almost dropped it.

Seeing who was calling, David almost let it go unanswered, but at the last second he tapped the screen. “Hi, Dad.”

“David, how are you?” His father’s voice was always confident and booming, as if he could summon happiness if he just projected from his diaphragm. David held the phone away from his ear with a wince, and then put it on speaker before setting it down.

“Fine. Why are you calling me?”

“Do I need a reason to call my only son?”

David rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

There was a pause. “Well, actually, I just heard that Eli was released from prison.”

Pulling a nail file out of his desk drawer, David snorted. “What, and you’re going to rehire him as your business manager?”

“Well, of course not, David.”

“Good.”

“I’m never going to speak to him again.”

“Good.”

“I mean, can you imagine how our lives might have turned out if he’d managed to get on that plane to the Cayman Islands before the police caught him?”

“Yes, I can, because you’ve mentioned it an average of once a month for the last three years,” David said, taking a few desultory swipes across the end of the nail on his middle finger.

“I mean, it was bad enough with all the tax penalties we had to pay. If it weren’t for Eli, we’d still have the beach house!”

“Uh huh.” If David had heard all of this before once, he’d heard it a hundred times. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s on location with Sharknado 5. And you know, the prison that jackass was in was pretty swanky.”

“Then maybe Eli will actually be more miserable now that he’s been released. When does Mom get back?”

“Two more weeks. She’s got her phone in Bulgaria; you can call her.”

David didn’t want to call her. He wanted his father to call her so that she could talk him off of this angry ledge before he had another scare with his heart.

“Just… don’t worry about Eli, okay?” David set the nail file down and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s not a part of your life anymore.”

“Damn straight he’s not.”

“Weren’t you telling me something about a new business venture at Christmas? Some kind of app?” David didn’t want to talk about this, or about anything really, but he figured he could at least try to pull his father out of this emotional tailspin about the former business manager who almost made off with the Rose family fortune.

“Yes, well, the spouting video market is quite crowded now, of course, but we’re making some in-roads. Slow and steady wins the race, that’s what I always say.”

“It’s streaming video. And that’s what you used to say about your rivalry with Blockbuster,” David snarked, his moment of charitability toward his father difficult to keep front of mind when he was being so irritating.

“And Blockbuster went out of business.”

“So did you!”

“It was a strategic restructuring, David. A shift into other markets. Like streaming video. Sure, the money isn’t flowing as freely as it did in the Rose Video heyday, but we’re doing fine.”

“Okay.” He went back to filing his nails.

“Are you still seeing… what was her name?” Johnny asked.

Trying to remember who his dad was even talking about, David squinted. “Who?”

“You know, the girl who used to eat garbage as performance art?”

David huffed. “Eliose didn’t eat garbage, she covered herself in… you know what, it doesn’t matter. We haven’t seen each other in months.”

“Oh. Is there anyone special in your life right now?”

An image of Brenton flashed in his mind. He was probably back in David’s apartment as they spoke, making the place reek of bong water and eating all of David’s food. He sighed. “No, no one special.”

“Well, don’t give up, son,” Johnny said. “How���s the gallery?”

“I just sold a painting.”

“That’s great!” his father boomed. “Good for you!”

“Okay, selling paintings is my job, you don’t have to praise me quite so effusively for doing my job.”

“No, of course I don’t need to. But I’m proud of you, son. Especially now that…” There was a moment of dead air.

“You still there?” David asked.

“Oh! Yes, I’m still here.”

“I thought the call had dropped. Now that what?”

An uncomfortable chuckle came out of the phone speaker. “You know, I forgot what I was saying.”

“Uhhh… okay.” David rolled his eyes again. “Anyway, the art business isn’t booming like it used to be, but today was good.”

“You know what? I just remembered I need to make another call,” his father said. “Sorry, David.”

“Whatever. You called me.”

“Talk to you soon, son.”

“Mm-hmm. Bye.” David tapped the screen and ended the call. He noticed the time and sighed, glancing out of his office door at the empty gallery. He might as well lock up and go back to his apartment. He moved quietly around the space, flipping off all of the lights and turning off the music that he played from a spare iPad that he’d gotten in a gift bag when he was Hayden Panettiere’s date to the 2012 Teen Choice Awards. Once he had his coat and messenger bag and had the security gate pulled down and locked, David pocketed his keys and stepped out onto the busy SoHo sidewalk. It had been misting rain for hours, the January day not cold enough to produce snow, but the temperature was now dropping below freezing and making the sidewalks treacherous.

The stationary store next door to his gallery was still open and doing a brisk business, and he was tempted to go in and look at the journals, but he resisted the impulse. Even though he used them sporadically, he’d already bought more empty journals than he could fill in a lifetime. The bar at the end of the block was also starting to fill up, and while he’d been known to get a drink there after closing the gallery, he wasn’t in the mood to be around people at the moment. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he summoned an Uber to ferry him the two miles to his apartment in Chelsea.

Braulio is 4 minutes away, his phone told him. While he waited, he texted Alexis again. Can you respond pls???

“Want me to talk or not talk?” his Uber driver asked as soon as David was settled into the back seat of the black Nissan.

“Don’t talk, please,” he responded. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no worries, man. That’s why I ask.” Braulio turned up his music a couple of clicks, the kind of unobjectionable, nondescript soundscape that was like something you’d hear in a modern hotel lobby. The driver had probably read on a website that it was the key to increasing tips or 5-star ratings.

David’s block on West 21st Street was packed with four and five-story apartment buildings, the short trees at regular intervals along the sidewalk offering a tiny break from the monotony of sandstone and concrete — although not this time of year, when they stuck up like twigs haphazardly shoved into the dirt by a giant, bored child. Shivering in his too-thin but fashionable jacket, he clicked on a rating for his Uber driver and shoved his phone in his pocket before making his way over to the short flight of stairs that led up to his building.

“Spare change,” a familiar voice called from a heap of blankets at the base of the building.

David opened his messenger bag and fished for the coins at the bottom. “It’s getting cold; you need to go to a shelter.”

“Not that cold,” the woman countered, holding her dingy Starbucks cup aloft. He dropped the coins in.

“The temperature’s dropping though.”

“Cold enough to ice skate.”

He took the non-sequitur in stride. “Well, not quite, but almost.”

“Your skates have to stay on the right line, ya know. You slip off and then suddenly—” She hit the cup, making the coins rattle. “Different universe.”

“Uh-huh. Will you go to a shelter, please? Don’t stay out here all night.” He re-clipped his bag and turned to walk away.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Mister Rose.”

“Well, I live here.”

“Not supposed to. Supposed to live in a motel with your family.”

David stopped and turned around. “What? Ew.”

“Rosebud,” she murmured.

“Oh, are we in Citizen Kane now?”

She hunkered down in her blankets, putting an end to what could only loosely be termed a conversation. Sighing, David left the homeless woman behind and entered the building’s vestibule. He then unlocked the inner door, shoving his way in with a grunt when the door inevitably stuck a little bit.

He mounted the one flight of stairs to his apartment. At the height of his family’s wealth, when David had been in his late twenties, he’d lived in a very posh apartment on the upper east side, but after the incident with his father’s business manager, he’d downgraded and moved to Chelsea. It was still a very nice, modern apartment, but it wasn’t what he’d once had.

The scent of sandlewood incense greeted him as he unlocked his door, and he wrinkled his nose and recoiled a little. Dropping his bag, he made his way to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, hoping to find his leftovers from last night’s take-out. Of course they were gone. He slammed the refrigerator and swung around, ready to have it out with Brenton once and for all.

The man in question chose that moment to stride into the kitchen, shirtless, a pair of athletic shorts slung low on his waist. “Hey,” Brenton said. “Glad you’re here, we need to talk.”

“Yeah, we sure do.” David tried not to let his eyes drift down to the v-shaped crease of Brenton’s hips and failed.

“I’m gonna go stay with my boyfriend in LA for a while, so…” He shrugged. “Thanks for everything.”

“I’m sorry, your what? You never mentioned a boyfriend before,” David said, grimacing. He’d met Brenton last month at a cocktail party he’d thrown at the gallery. Young and blond and in his mid-twenties, Brenton was the son of a well-known hedge fund manager, and he seemed to be a guy whose sole occupation was drifting from one party to another, looking for a good time. He and David had hooked up several times in recent weeks, but their conversations had been limited to fashion and art world trends and what kind of sex they were into.

“Because we weren’t like that, you and me,” Brenton said with a disarming smile. “This was never about, you know, unpacking our pasts. And we never said we were exclusive.”

“I know that,” David snapped. “I didn’t say I expected exclusivity. Still, you might have mentioned—”

“He and I were figuring some things out, you know? But he’s gone out there for pilot season and the auditions are stressful, so I think I really just need to be there for him.”

“Oh, he’s an actor,” David said. “How fun for you.”

There wasn’t really much more to say, so after a few more empty platitudes from Brenton, he disappeared into David’s bedroom to get dressed and to gather whatever belongings he’d brought over in the course of their month-long affair. David sat at the kitchen island and flipped through an issue of Vogue without seeing the pages. He probed a little bit at his feelings, pressing against them like you’d touch a bruise, trying to determine how painful it was. He didn’t really care that much about Brenton — he was shallow and mostly unkind. David didn’t think he’d miss him. What did hurt was once again being shoved aside as soon as something better came along, after a lifetime of being shoved aside as soon as something better came along.

Once Brenton was gone, David tried cracking open a window to air out the apartment, but quickly closed it when it let in a biting cold wind. He was starting to get a headache, and he reached up to massage the back of his neck, trying to stave it off. Pulling out his phone, he checked Alexis’ instagram again, and then opened his messaging app.

[David] 911. Call me.

Surprisingly, his phone rang only a few seconds later.

“David, what? What’s the emergency?” Alexis sounded manic and not a little annoyed.

“I’ve been texting you all evening!” he almost shouted. “I’m sorry for worrying that you were dead.”

“I’m fine, why would I be dead?”

“Your social’s been dark for days.”

“Ugh. I’ve just been busy, David, I don’t have to post something every day as proof of life, do I?”

“You have to at least respond to my texts, Alexis.”

“Look, the club we were in might’ve gotten raided by police earlier, a little bit, but it’s fine because we found a back way out and we ran. It’s no big deal.”

“It kind of sounds like a big deal,” David said, rubbing his neck again. The headache was getting worse; the muscles running down from his skull were like iron rods. “Why were the police raiding the club?”

“How should I know what the Monaco police were doing?” she asked.

“Monaco? I thought you were in Italy.”

Alexis laughed. “Monaco is in Italy, David.”

“Monaco is a separate country, Alexis.”

“No, it’s… is it? Well anyway, Tiff and Lily and I are back at the hotel. I might come home, though. Stavros called and he wants to see me.”

David moaned unhappily. “Alexis, no, don’t go see Stavros. You’ll end up getting back together with him and that would be a terrible life choice.”

“Speaking of terrible life choices, is that Brett guy still crashing at your place?”

“It’s Brenton, and we were seeing each other, he wasn’t just ‘crashing’ here.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And it’s over anyway.”

“Oh.” Her voice softened for the first time. “I’m sorry, David.”

He waved his hand, not that she could see him. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t like him that much. He was just really hot.” He looked around the quiet, empty apartment. “You could stay here for a while, if you want.” Alexis was a chaos engine, but he also kind of missed her. Her whirlwind life would keep him from thinking about his own sad existence as much.

“Ew, what? Why? I’ve got way more space at Mom and Dad’s, and when I want to stay in the city, Klair lets me stay at the apartment with her stepmom. Who’s actually really cool, although she takes way too many pills.”

“Fine, whatever. Far be it from me to come between you and Klair’s stepmom.” He fluttered his hand again.

“Okay, don’t be like that. See, David, I know how you are. You’re lonely right now and you think you miss me, but you’d be sick of me the second I set foot through your doorway. You’d complain that I was too messy and that my friends were too loud and that I hadn’t used a coaster for my water glass.”

“Well, if you’d use a coaster—”

“David, it’s 3 a.m. here and you’re lecturing me about a hypothetical coaster. I’m gonna get some sleep now, okay?”

“Fine.”

“Go to Mom and Dad’s if you’re lonely,” Alexis said.

“I’m not lonely.”

“Goodnight, David.”

“Goodnight, Alexis.”

(Chapter 2)

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[additional content warnings after some spoiler space]

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This fic will include a temporary character death, the temporariness of which should be obvious by the time it happens. Also note that this fic does include marital problems and adultery committed by Patrick, who didn't meet David in Schitt's Creek in this timeline, and (as you will see in the next chapter) ended up marrying Rachel. Just giving you an extra warning for that if it squicks you out. 

[thecloserkin]

fic rec: Are You Mine? and I Want Some More by PoetHrotsvitha

fandom: Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate

pairing: Evie Frye/Jacob Frye

word count: 54k and 50k respectively (one is a direct sequel to the other)

Is it canon: yes

Is it explicit: this is the most explicit material i have thus far reviewed on this blog

Is it endgame: yesssss

Is it shippable: yes

One thing you guys should know about me is I don’t read a great deal of smut. I don’t actively avoid it either, and I for sure consume more smut in the context of fanfic than in professional published fiction because I feel the following quote in my bones: “It wasn’t that friendship needed to be sexualized, it was that erotica needed to be … friendship-ized.” So when I stumbled on this fic that is 80% smut stretched over the thinnest pretext of plot, based on source material I have zero familiarity with, what did I do but fall headlong for this pairing and this story. Bless you, anon who brought Fryecest to my attention, and praise the Lord for modern AUs where knowledge of canon is not mandatory.

Jacob and Evie Frye are twins born into an Assassin family and raised by their exacting taskmaster of a father to take down the Templars. There’s no Templars or Assassins in this modern AU of course, just Evie’s looming A-Levels and their absent academic of a father. Evie’s still the golden child, of course—she’ll follow in their father’s footsteps and get her Ph.D. Jacob is the problem child. He’s already fallen in with the Wrong Crowd, he’s impulsive, he drinks and gambles and mostly solves problems with his fists. His relationship with their dad is hella strained. And because this is supposed to be PWP the author wastes no time in ratcheting the sexual tension up to 11 by having Jacob pick Evie up from her posh school on his MOTORCYCLE, each of them pretending not to be so turned on they could have combusted from desire by the end of the ride. Cool cool cool.

Their relationship begins barreling in a dom/sub direction almost from the word go. Evie is one thousand percent the take-charge, Type-A personality, so the idea is that she needs to relinquish that control in the bedroom, and Jacob is the only one she trusts to dominate her. Because they’re twins and they balance each other out adfkdfkdfjdkfd. The scene in the beginning where Jacob tells her not to button up her blouse while she’s making breakfast, and she actually listens to him instead of ignoring or insulting him, holy shit that was hot. It starts so small but eventually he’s got her wearing a wireless vibrator to class and begging for her “punishment” when she takes it out without his permission because it was too distracting.

I imagine this is what the 50 Shades of Grey phenomenon was about. I haven’t read 50 Shades of Grey myself, but I’ve interacted with people who rave about it and clearly got something out of those books, bad as they were. I’m not trying to compare the quality of this story to 50 Shades of Grey—it’s lightyears superior to that dreck—just that when I finished this fic I had the dazed realization that this was why people read smut.

There’s a throwaway line in Jacob’s internal monologue where he muses “they seem to be going about this backwards,” because he’s buying flowers for her the day after fingering her to a screaming orgasm, and yes I am 100% here for this trope. Ffs he sits with her in the library to keep her company while she studies! He waits for her/escorts her to her one hundred and one extracurricular activities! He’s a really immature 17-year-old and he’d never dream of doing this for anyone else, but when it comes to Evie he becomes suddenly sweet and thoughtful and solicitous. He’s constantly pausing in the middle of sex to ask for her enthusiastic & affirmative consent and reminding her to use the safe word. At the same time he’s madly jealous when anyone else shows a flicker of interest in her and he regularly makes her admit he “owns” her during their role-play. They are each other’s firsts which for some reason is really important to me in these kinds of they’re-teenagers-exploring-their-sexuality setups. This is Evie hitting up the lingerie boutique in preparation for their FIRST WEEKEND GETAWAY:

“I’m going away for the weekend with my-” Evie almost stumbled on the word, “-boyfriend.” What a strange concept.

I AM TRASH FOR THIS INCEST TROPE i love the way she stumbles over that word. Bc that’s not the box that Jacob occupies for her, is it? He’s much more than that. I love the way she alternates between begging him to put it in her cunt and calling him a prat and a shitheel; just because he’s the love of her life doesn’t make him stop being her insufferable little brother. You know what else I’m trash for? ALL the sneaking around tropes. One time while sexting with him in a storage closet at school she’s busted by one of the teachers and only barely has time to lock her phone before he confiscates it.

So the first fic ends with their dad finding the sexts and nudes on Evie’s phone, disowning them both, and Evie choosing to go to University of Edinburgh because their dad knows too many people at Oxbridge. The twins get a flat together and it’s happily ever after. Except no! In the sequel it’s ten years later and Evie and Jacob have returned to the house they grew up in to say goodbye to their dying father, and they’re ESTRANGED OH NO WHAT HAPPENED. Evie has a four-year-old in tow. We find out in fairly short order that the kid is Jacob’s, but Jacob doesn’t find out the truth until we’ve sent him through the angst wringer. The fic is about how they grieve and reconcile and how Jacob learns to parent, and this one is actually like 60% plot and I think I like it even better than the first one. This author’s note really spoke to me:

I’ve read a fair number of sibling incest modern AU fics in a few different fandoms and they all tend to end at “and then they ran away from their families and lived happily ever after/epilogue of sexy fun times possibly with the introduction of hey they've had a kid!”. And I mean I love that, don't get me wrong. But I guess I’m also weirdly preoccupied with the part about what comes after that, because it always seemed far too dreadfully simple an outcome. Normal relationships are rarely that easy, so why would these be? Then again I'm probably putting too much thought into a porn fic, LOL.

DEAR @poethrotsvitha, THIS IS A SIGNED PETITION TO PLEASE NEVER STOP OVERTHINKING THE PLOT OF YOUR PORN FICS. Like, nobody starts fucking their brother unless they really mean it, because the risk of the relationship going pear-shaped and the two of you still being stuck in each other’s orbit because there’s no “breaking up” with family? That’s a big risk. And also why incest pairings feel so high-stakes and I am trash for them, obvs. One of the reasons the dom/sub dynamic is so integral to their relationship was because Evie had a tendency to dictate to Jacob what he “can and can’t do,” and he understandably chafed against it sometimes. It’s what led to their breakup five years ago. And so him taking charge in the bedroom is a kind of counterbalance, and there’s a scene in this fic where she lets him role-play a noncon situation as a way to partly soothe his jealousy.

To a large extent it’s their son who brings about their reconciliation, but their son is also a hyperactive little git who throws a monkey wrench in their sex life, so now instead of hiding their relationship from their dad they’re tiptoeing around a four-year-old. And the big character development that happens on Jacob’s part is him recognizing that Thomas is Evie’s #1 priority now, and there comes a moment where he has to make a difficult decision to prioritize the two of them in his own life, too (by quitting his job and ending a toxic relationship). The other thing I really liked was how Jacob thinks ruefully he could have gone a another round if he were ten years younger, which he’s not, but Evie seems satisfied and that’s what matters. The recognition that he’s not a teenager anymore, and doesn’t have the stamina of one, but he’s also more mature and this time he’ll be able to give Evie what she needs? Oh, my heart. Like I said I loved them being each other’s firsts as teenagers but this, this second chance they’ve got as adults, this is beautiful.

Ok so this is Evie begging Jacob to fuck her in a closet in the middle of their dad’s funeral service??!:

“Please, I just need to forget. Just for a little bit- I need to forget, please-” Oh, God, this was a terrible idea. A terrible idea that she would die before she stopped- she felt like an addict after years of sobriety, pushed by stress and grief to needing that all-consuming high that she'd never quite been able to forget. Her fingers worked at his belt, pulling it open, unbuttoning his trousers to draw the heel of her palm along where he was already hard. “Evie,” he rasped, shuddering against her touch. “Shh,” she said, tucking his pants down enough to pull his cock free, giving it a few firm strokes. “Shh.” If they talked, it would be too real. It had to be rushed and frantic, to feel like it was just the once, to ease the ache in her chest.

And this is after they finish (“if only it could have lasted forever”):

Silently, she turned to let him zip up her dress … There was a warmth against the back of her neck as she felt him draw her hair aside and press a kiss to the sensitive skin, hesitant and uncertain.  "Thank you," she breathed into the darkness, listening to the click of his belt as it slid back into place.  He just sighed, leaning his forehead against her shoulder, saying a million things without speaking a word. 

LEANING HIS FOREHEAD FOR A MILLISECOND AGAINST HER SHOULDER OMFG I AM DECEASED

Ok so to return an earlier point: When you want a canon incest happy ending in a modern setting (as opposed to if you’re both Targaryens) the most popular option is run away and live as an unrelated couple, which necessitates cutting ties with everyone you’ve ever known. This may be more or less difficult depending on the quantity and quality of those ties; unless this is Flowers in the Attic and you’ve literally been locked in the attic for years there’s bound to be people you care about other than your sibling so this is a monumental ask. The Fryes choose option B, “living openly as siblings and keeping the incest on the dl”. This option is not without risk, of course, since exposure is always a possibility, and Evie has to put up with the other moms at Thomas’s preschool eyeing Jacob like a piece of meat. Still, it means Thomas gets to bake cookies with his grandmother, who would not have let Evie and Jacob back in her life if they flaunted the truth. I mean, it’s not that she doesn’t know her kids are fucking, it’s just that a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy allows everyone’s relationships to remain intact:

She seemed to be struggling to get the words out. “Is Thomas…” There were a few ways that this question could go, as far as Jacob could see, and he didn’t particularly want to deal with any of them. He leaned against the counter, palms rigid against the cold surface. “I’m really tired, Mother.” “I know. I just…” There was a terrible pause. “Are— are you and Evie…” Still facing the toaster, Jacob closed his eyes. He couldn’t muster a lot of fake outrage, but he planned to deny everything anyway. He didn’t care about how plausible it was. It was easier for everyone that way, especially Mother. Before he could open his mouth, though, Mother’s chair scraped back. “Actually, never mind. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Every Wednesday Evie (who’s moved back in with her mom) leaves Thomas with his grandma and goes to “book club” which is really date night at Jacob’s. And the two of them get right up to their old tricks:

When he gave her just the slightest nudge upwards with his hips, she finally let a broken whisper rasp out. “I can't- I want- please-” Jacob clicked his tongue. “You know what I want you to say.” She twisted her neck around again, and he could see that her eyes were now glassy with longing. “Huh?” “It's simple— just ‘My greedy cunt belongs to my brother’. “ “I will not."

The process of turning that initial “no” into a “yes” is scorchingly hot so there you go, I love these two, I love this fic, I have definitely seen the light and I'm ready to embrace smut.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love or Duty by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 1/8

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 1: The Uneasy Alliance

“Our scout says she burned the village to the ground, everything is gone. She didn’t even leave the animals alive.”

The King surveyed the room filled with nervous men, he held up his hand and a hush fell over the crowd. “Double the guard at the gate, just to be safe.” He turned toward the Knight, the man nodding swiftly before exiting the chamber. “Regina is still in the East, Misthaven is safe.”

“For how long?” Someone yelled from the back of the room.

“We need to move the women and children.” Another voice spoke above the crowd.

“Everyone calm down. There is no need to panic, our guard is strong, our swords are mighty. We will not be taken by the Queen from the Eastern lands.”

“We need more swords, Your Majesty. If we stand alone, Misthaven will surely fall.”

The warning did not fall on deaf ears, as the King paced his chambers that evening, his wife, Queen Margaret preparing herself in their bed chamber, watched him with eager eyes. “You appear distracted this evening.”

“It’s Regina, she destroyed the town of Umbury. The nobles are concerned that she is advancing north.”

“You do not think our defenses will hold.” She spoke softly, standing from her spot in front of the bed, less of a question and more of a statement that she had read from his mind. She was good at that, reading his thoughts, understanding what he wasn’t saying before he could even admit his own truth.

He contemplated a moment, not wanting to worry his wife but knowing it was pointless to deny what she already knew. “No. They are our best men, but I fear there are simply not enough of them.”

“Then you must go west.”

“Never. Those fools will not listen much less be willing to help our cause.”

“Those fools are also standing in her way.” She said soothingly, taking his hand and pulling him toward the bed. “Alone, both kingdoms will fall. But if you come together, put aside this foolish feud, we will surely stop her in her path.”

“Brennan Jones is a fool. I would no sooner beg for his assistance than I would bend a knee to Regina’s demands.”

“Then you, my love, are the fool.” She put a hand to his open mouth, stopping his protest and complaint. “You are King David Nolan; you serve the people of Misthaven. It is time to forgive past transgressions, you must come together with the people of Jonesboro or you doom our own to a life of misery and servitude under the rule of Queen Regina.”

He bent his head, knowing his wife was right. He was out of options; they wouldn’t last the month at the rate that Regina was burning the lands. He needed assistance and his best chance was his neighbor to the west. King Brennan was the last man he would seek out, the last man he would be found groveling to, and sadly, he had no other options. King Brennan Jones was their only hope.

~*~

“To what do I owe this great displeasure of seeing your face on my doorstep, David?”

“I’m no more excited to be at your doorstep than you are to see me, Brennan, but we need to speak regarding our mutual problem in the East.”

“Ah so you’re here about the infestation, or as she likes to call herself, Regina.”

David nodded. “She burned Umbury to the ground not two days ago.”

“My scouts have not brought news of Umbury yet. Are you quite sure?”

“Not even the animals survived the slaughter.” David said somberly.

“Umbury is not far from the road to Misthaven, is it not?”

His irritation grew. “You know that it is.”

“This does not sound like my problem, David.”

“If Misthaven falls, how long before Jonesboro follows?” He stated emphatically. “Regina will not rest until all the lands are hers.”

The man paced in front of him, the cold mask set on his face, unreadable. “You expect me to believe that you care about what happens to my kingdom?”

“I know that my kingdom cannot survive without help. Neither can yours.” He implored.

“You want to work with me?” He laughed loudly. “I did not think the day would come.”

“Trust me, If there was any other way, I would have found it. Margaret asked me to speak to you, so here I am.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Ah now we come to the truth, Margie sent you.”

This time it was David who rolled his eyes, “She seems to think this is our only way out of this. I am inclined to agree, unfortunately.”

“Go home David, tell your wife I send my fondest regards, but I would sooner gut my own belly than come to your aid.”

“You did not tell me we had visitors.” The men turned toward the intruding voice and David softened when he saw the Queen enter the chambers.

“Ali.” He responded fondly, accepting the hug she offered as she approached. “I apologize for the short notice.”

“You know you are always welcome here.” She turned toward her husband with a glance of annoyance.

“He was just leaving.” Brennan offered quickly.

“Nonsense, what brings you all this way, David? How are Margaret and the children?”

“Everyone is well, Margaret sends her love, I was just speaking to your husband about the situation at Umbury.”

“What news is there of Umbury?”

“Regina.” He said simply and the woman’s face filled with dread.

“There must be something we can do about this woman’s reign of terror.”

He glanced at the King, “That is the reason for my visit. If our Kingdom’s could unite, perhaps we stand a chance at defeating her.”

“There have been too many years of unrest between our lands, our people would never fight alongside yours.” The King complained.

“Not unless they had something to unite behind. Perhaps a truce or a reason for them to join forces.” The Queen suggested.

“If you are suggesting that David and I…”

“Out of the question.” David added.

“Unless…” Brenna said with a raise of his brow. “Your daughter, Emma. She must be at least 18 now?”

David turned toward him with confusion on his face. “She turned 20 this year, why?”

“Our son Liam just turned 24 and has yet to take a bride.”

“Brennan, that is not what I meant.” The Queen stepped forward.

“But if our children were to unite, our people would surely follow?” He turned toward his wife, “It would solve the issue of Liam not choosing a wife, it has been too long and would avoid the messy situation of David needing to grovel in apology.”

“You want my daughter to marry your son!” David remarked in annoyance. “I did not come here to offer my child up as some sort of trophy.”

“So, you came here to beg for forgiveness then?”

“I’ll do no such thing!”

“Boys, please.” The Queen yelled. “This is not getting us anywhere.”

“You realize this entire idea is insane?” He urged as he tried to appeal to the Queen’s common sense.

“Neither of our children are married, they are both of age, it does solve a certain problem. Unless you boys plan to admit that this feud is ridiculous and apologize.”

“Never.” They sang in unison.

“Then I think we should consider it.”

Accepting defeat, David promised to return home and speak to his wife. In a week’s time, Prince Liam would travel to Misthaven to meet with Princess Emma to discuss their courtship. Now all he needed to do was advise Emma that she would be getting married.

~*~

“I’ll do no such thing.” Emma screamed at her father after he announced her upcoming nuptials.

“We don’t have a choice.” Her father countered.

“How dare you make this decision for my life; you swore to me that you would never do that.”

“I’m the King of Misthaven, I have to think about what is right for this kingdom and its people.”

“But what I want doesn’t matter? That’s what he’s saying, Mother.” Emma spun around to face her mother who was sitting on her throne, a frown on her face.

“Emma, it’s our only choice. We need the kingdoms to unite. Your father has to make the difficult decisions for our survival.”

“Oh, this is rich coming from your mouth.” She growled. “If you hadn’t defied grandpa, you’d be married to King Brennan right now!”

“Emma!” Her father’s tone was loud and angry, but she didn’t care in the slightest. She would not be told that she had to give up her life to be tied to a man she did not know or love.

“Emma what?” She snorted. “Don’t speak the truth?”

“This is different.” He paused. “I loved your mother, and she chose me. Her father accepted that. You have yet to find anyone on your own that is up to your standards to marry. And Prince Liam needs a wife.”

“Does Prince Liam want a wife?” She asked defiantly.

“Emma, you are royalty, this is a responsibility that both you and Prince Liam bear. I am sure he understands his role in his family as the Heir Apparent to the throne, as should you.” Her mother scolded.

“I don’t wish to marry.” She pouted and her mother stood from her throne and walked over to Emma, draping her arm around her shoulder.

“Prince Liam is a lovely man, kind and fair. You will grow to love him as if you had chosen him yourself. You have a responsibility to the people of Misthaven to protect them above all else. You will rise to the occasion as Princess of Misthaven and do your duty.” A tear rolled down her cheek and her mother wiped it away, lifting her chin so that their eyes met. “If there was another way, your father and I would have pursued it. We’re asking you to do this, Emma, for us, for your people. I know this isn’t what you want and for that I am truly sorry.” She finished softly.

“If nothing else is required of me, I wish to retire to my room.” Emma stood from her spot, setting her jaw firmly as she glanced at her father, when neither of her parents responded, she turned and stormed from the room, not stopping until she was within her chamber. As soon as she bolted the door closed, she crumpled atop the duvet of her bed, sobbing into her pillow until she fell asleep.

~*~

“You will travel to Misthaven within the week to meet the Princess and begin the courtship.”

“Do you really believe this will help us defeat Regina?” Liam examined the way his father paced the room in front of him, worry set in the wrinkles of his forehead. He had known that Regina was getting closer to Jonesboro and that their swords were unmatched to her army.

“As much as I do not wish to align myself with Misthaven, we need their blades. Their army is large, and we will not survive a full-on assault from Regina without their assistance.”

“And you believe this is the only way?”

“If she is anything like her mother, she will be more than enough woman for you, son.” He patted his son on the back. “If you are not satisfied with her, you can always take a mistress.”

Liam rolled his eyes, “I will do what is required of me, Father.”

“Take your brother to assist you, but keep your eye on him, I do not wish another scandal.”

“Of course.” He said with a nod, exiting the throne room, ignoring the thunderous beating of his own heart. As soon as he was behind closed doors, he grumbled loudly, tossing his boots across the room. Being the first born carried a heavy responsibility. He would be King one day; he would rule all of Jonesboro and as the first born and Heir Apparent to the throne he was expected to take a wife of royal descent.

The tapestry in the corner of his room rustled and swayed until it pushed away from the wall and the blonde woman entered his chambers through the secret door.

“Elsa.” He breathed, crossing the room in long strides to pull her into his arms.

“I came as soon as you left the King’s chambers. Why were you summoned?”

He brushed his lips against hers, before burying his face in the crook of her neck. “It’s Regina, she’s advancing through the realms faster than expected. The King of Misthaven has brokered a deal with my father that will allow our kingdoms to join forces and defeat her.”

“That’s great news.” She sighed. “So what troubles you, my love?”

He took her hands in his, brushing his lips against her knuckles. “I’m to marry Princess Emma.” He felt her flinch at his words and his eyes squeezed shut.

“And you have agreed to this marriage?”

“We knew this day would come eventually.” She sighed and he opened his eyes to meet hers, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye which he immediately swiped away with his thumb. “This is my duty; I cannot let our people down.”

She took his hand and pressed it against her cheek. “I know, that is why I love you.” He held her tight that evening, her body molded into his side as he watched the moon hang high in the sky. He had loved Elsa since he was a young boy when he first saw her outside the palace with her mother, one of the palace cooks, picking onions from the garden.

He had spent years ignoring the pull of his heart toward the young maiden, until he could yearn no more and took her as his own, locked away in a cottage hidden from the castle. They spent many nights lost in each other’s embrace, wishing that life were less complicated than it was.

He envied his brother Killian, as the second born, the responsibility to rule did not fall on his shoulders. His need to find a wife of royal blood was not necessary and as such, Killian took full liberties to live the life of a royal bachelor who bedded any beauty who would share their chamber with him. He knew nothing about responsibility and duty or even love. But Liam knew that as first born, he would one day be King, and he had to live up to his born right, even if it meant never getting to be with the woman he loved.

So instead of grumbling about fairness, he simply boarded the carriage with his brother and set off for Misthaven, preparing to court a woman he had never met and would never love.

“What if she’s ugly, brother?”

“I fail to see why that matters.” Liam groaned as his brother continued to barrage him with a variety of questions and statements about his situation.

“Would you really bed an ugly woman, simply for the honor of the kingdom?”

“Does everything come down to sex for you?”

His brother shrugged, “Not everything, I like a woman who can hold her rum as well.”

He stared out the tiny window in the carriage, wishing to be anywhere but on the road to Misthaven. “One day you will meet a woman who captures your attention even outside your bedchamber, little brother.”

“Why would I have need for a woman outside my bed chamber?” He smiled widely. “And that’s younger brother, Mate.” He corrected and Liam chuckled at the annoyance it caused the man. While Killian was only a few years younger than him, his jealousy of being the second born had always been apparent.

Killian had always been able to use his handsome features and natural charm to get by in the world, Liam envied his spirit. At 14, Killian lost his hand in a sailing incident, Liam never even saw him cry, he simply picked himself up, and despite his mother’s insistence of finding the best prosthetic their gold could procure, he had the silversmith craft him a hook and carried on his way.

Liam was sure eventually the impediment would bother him, but instead he used it to lure women in. He was sure that curiosity in addition to his cocksure demeanor brought about the loss of his virginity by age 15. Women were simply drawn to his playful yet assertive behavior. While Liam grew up by his father’s side, learning the proper way to rule a kingdom, Killian spent his learning poetry and sailing for adventure.

“Your looks won’t last forever and eventually you will desire a woman to want you for more than what you can provide to her in the bed chamber.” He chuckled but his younger brother simply cast his eyes upon their impending arrival.

The carriage came to a halt and Liam stepped through the open door, looking up at the castle in front of him. It was more lavish than their own, brighter colors and more inviting. He nodded to the man who greeted them.

“Prince Liam, Prince Killian, welcome to Misthaven. The King and Queen are expecting you.”

Killian’s grin was wide as he nodded to a maiden who walked past the carriage. Liam groaned and pulled him by the lapel toward the castle doors. “I have orders to keep you out of trouble on this trip, and that one looks like trouble.” He said with a glance toward the flirting maiden.

“You are no fun at all, brother.” He whined following him begrudgingly through the castle halls.

The large doors opened into a wide room, bright banners accenting the stained-glass windows. A golden curtain draped at the far end of the room, two large thrones sitting in the center of the wall. “Be on your best behavior, I beg of you.” He said through gritted teeth toward Killian.

A beautiful young woman stepped toward the King; he could only assume this was his future bride to be, her blonde hair braided into a golden crown. “At least she isn’t a troll.” Killian whispered.

“Welcome to Misthaven, Prince Liam.” King David spoke as he rose from his throne and stepped toward them. “It is an honor to have you here for such a happy occasion.” He smiled and Liam nodded to the man.

“It is an honor to be here.” He turned toward his brother, “This is my brother, Prince Killian.”

Killian bowed with a ridiculous grin on his face. “My father sends his regards.” Liam rolled his eyes; Killian always did have a way of being an ass without even trying. It was no secret that the feud between King David and their father had been contemptuous for years. His father never shared the reason that the two kingdoms were not friendly neighbors, but Liam knew it best not to ask his father of such things.

“I’m sure he does.” The King responded with a firm jaw. “Allow me to introduce you to the jewel of Misthaven. My daughter, Princess Emma.”

The blonde woman stepped forward; her mouth set in a straight line. She held out her hand and he took it, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “Pleasure, M’lady. While your kingdom is vibrant and glorious, it pales in comparison to your beauty.” He could have sworn she rolled her eyes, but she lowered her head before her emerald orbs could meet his. She didn’t even glance at her brother before she spoke.

“I’m sure the journey was long, and you would prefer to be taken to your chambers rather than spend another second pretending to be impressed by my overwhelming beauty.”

Killian snorted loudly beside him, and Liam elbowed him swiftly, a satisfying groan exiting his brother’s throat.

The King glanced at his daughter who barely gave him a glance as she took her place beside her mother.

“I will have you taken to your rooms; shall we expect you for dinner this evening?” The King interjected.

“Certainly, I look forward to seeing you this evening.” Liam said with a bow, turning to exit the room and dragging his brother forward with him. Once they were shown to their rooms, Killian doubled over with a rambunctious howl.

“Hopefully, she likes your performance in bed more than she enjoys your compliments.”

Liam groaned, he assumed all he needed to do was to arrive in Misthaven, court this woman and return home to his kingdom with a bride to be. Based on her reaction to him, that was going to be a bigger challenge than he planned.

Bloody hell.

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP - 32.5 - Interlude 3: Chaos Squad

Title: For The Love Of A Princess

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net  -  AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11; Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Okay, when we originally considered putting this part into the story, it was meant to be a joke. A bit of relief from tension and feels. Pure fun. And then the boys decided that, nope, we're gonna do it like this. And this. And this too. *shrugs helplessly* So don't blame me for anything, it was all them!

. o O o .

As it turned out, carrying four big mugs of beer at once wasn’t easy, but Eret thought he managed it sufficiently. That being said, the mugs were heavy, solid pewter with a lid on top, which was the only reason he’d avoided splashing anyone as he had to dodge other customers in the big tavern’s room. They’d dressed down for this pub crawl, which had the pleasant advantage of not having everyone bowing in obsequiousness – but also the distinct disadvantage of having the people around him not exactly putting in much effort to make way for him. But it wasn’t more difficult or exhausting than reining in one of his House’s untamed horses either, even less so if one considered that the mugs weren’t actively fighting against him. So, all in all, he didn’t think that getting drinks for them had taken that long, but when he returned to their table in a calmer and slightly detached niche, Dagur already awaited him eagerly.

“Oh, thank the Gods, you’re back,” he exclaimed, and directly reached to claim one of the big mugs. “These two are driving me insane!”

Eret’s eyes wandered to the other side of the table where Daniel and Hiccup sat side by side, their heads bowed over a notebook on the table between them. A relieved smile tugged at his lips at that sight; they were obviously deeply engrossed in yet another technical-looking sketch, and didn’t even react when he placed their mugs down in front of them. That was a good thing, he mused as he sat down in the last empty chair. Last night, during the festivities for the grand blot, Hiccup’s bold move to help Astrid on Markor’s back had worried him, and then there’d been Astrid’s hug and Daniel’s strange reaction to it… For a moment, Eret had honestly been afraid for his cousin. The war had hardened Daniel noticeably, and with the repeated assaults on Astrid, his sense of protection for his little sister had hardened as well.

And Hiccup… Well, Eret would vouch for Hiccup’s integrity. Tyr, he had! But no matter how well his cousin fit into their group and how fond Daniel seemed to be of him, none of that would matter when it came to Astrid. So it was good to see them like this again, with the tension from last night entirely gone. They were just getting excited over scholarly crap, together, once again, and even though Eret hadn’t thought it possible, the sight gave him a good feeling.

But it was too much fun to tease Dagur, so he let out a theatrical sigh. “Welcome to my life. They’ve been like this ever since my accolade, drifting off into technical conversations no sane person can follow. You’ve only endured this for a week now, but believe me, it’ll only get worse the longer they talk.”

Dagur cackled, amusement sparking in his eyes, and with Daniel thoroughly distracted he felt safe enough to throw his lover a warm smile. It wasn’t like they deliberately wanted to keep Daniel in the dark or lie to him… But they knew the Prince well enough, knew his sober attitude toward love and marriage. He wouldn’t get angry at him and Dagur for loving each other. But he also wouldn’t understand it, would only lecture them on how they couldn’t keep their relationship up forever. The good of the Kingdom was more important. And they knew that! But they didn’t need to be reminded of this fact every day again…

For another minute or three, they watched Hiccup and Daniel, how they kept bouncing ideas back and forth, both having a pencil in their hands now to simultaneously add to their sketch. It was funny in a way, though not why anyone visited a tavern.

“And here I thought we’d come here to have fun tonight,” Dagur commented after a while, disbelievingly shaking his head. “You know, after spending nearly the entire day at the Temple to help tidy it up again, I thought we’d earned a reprieve now. Laugh, chat, get a little drunk…” He paused, shaking his head again. “Is this going to keep going on like this? Or is there a chance they might reach another topic at some point?”

“If you can provide an interesting enough topic, that’s possible. But otherwise? Nope. It only gets worse.”

Dagur gave him an almost comically pleading look. “And if we just… leave? I mean, not necessarily to you-know-what. Just, I don’t know... Do something else? Maybe join the men over there? I’m pretty sure I’ve spotted some of this year’s recruits; we could teach them a lesson. I mean, beating them in an arm-wrestling match won’t make as much of an impression as Swanja’s performance with her bow would have made, but it surely would be better than nothing?”

Eret glanced over into the main room. Dagur was right, in all points. There were some recruits out there, also revelling in their liberty before heading off for war, and teaching them some respect surely would be helpful for their further training. Some of them were insufferable this year. But he let out an exasperated snort, and shook his head. “No, we can’t leave,” he said dryly, then nodded back to Daniel and Hiccup. “We can’t leave them alone. Believe me, it’s better to keep an eye on them before they go overboard. Again!”

“What, you think they’d slip away when we turn our backs on them? Maybe run riot?” Dagur laughed again, loud and true. “Oh, wait, I get it. Maybe they’ll go over to the armoury and test their theories from the other day. Which angle and distance is best to tear down a wall.” He laughed again at his own joke.

Eret just raised his eyebrow though, and gave Dagur an ‘Are you certain this is just a joke?’-look that made him choke on his next laugh. Sure, they hadn’t torn down any walls. Not yet! But it certainly wouldn’t be that much of an escalation to previous experiments either…

Leaving Dagur to get a grip on his laughing fits on his own, Eret reached for his beer and took a big gulp. Dagur was right, however. As happy as he was to see Daniel wasn’t against Hiccup… this was their last night before they’d all meet up in Westhill come summer. And selfish as it might be, he’d rather they would all chat together.

He was just scouring his mind for something – anything – to change the topic to, when a boy in the uniform of a courier appeared at their table.

They all looked up at the boy, wearing the sash and badge of the king’s messengers. He appeared to be a little self-conscious in the loud tavern, where a lad his age would normally be shown the door, as he glanced from one to the other. “Sir Eret?” he eventually muttered, settling to look at him. “I have this note for you. From your father.” The boy handed him a sealed letter, and Eret accepted it reflexively, even as a frown formed on his face.

A note from his father? That was strange. What would be so important that it couldn’t wait until the morning? “Thanks,” he said to the courier, and made attempts to stow the letter away into the pocket of his vest for later.

But the boy shook his head, looking highly uncomfortable as he raised a hand as if to stop him. “I-I’m sorry, Milord,” he stammered. “But I have orders to wait for your answer and deliver it back to his Grace directly. Just… just something about whether you… approve or not?”

Eret’s frown grew deeper, and he noticed that his friends around him all had looks of equal confusion on their faces. Even Daniel and Hiccup had interrupted their conversation for now. “All right,” he sighed, and got up. “Then I’ll see whether I can find a more private place to read it, and get right back to you.”

The boy nodded and stepped to the side, making way for Eret to leave their niche. He looked around, then decided to go outside to read. The light falling through the windows would be sufficient, without the noises of a full tavern to distract him.

Inside the letter were two pieces of paper. One was just a short note, the other another formerly sealed letter addressed to Grand Duke Eret of House Jag’r. Blinking in confusion, he first read the note, written in his father’s messy handwriting.

Son,

This letter from Eastervale arrived an hour ago, and I want to send back a reply immediately. But, as the future head of our House, it is your right to give your opinion as well.

His father wanted his opinion on a matter that affected their House? What could it be, some new trading contract maybe? Frowning even deeper, Eret read the note again, but couldn’t make any more rhyme or reason to it than the first time. Since when did his father need his opinion on such matters?

Shaking his head in bewilderment, he turned his attention to the letter. The seal was broken, but since it had been addressed to his father, that wasn’t surprising. What surprised him, however, was that even though it was broken, the seal was easily recognisable. It was the same as the one on the note the courier had just given him: The seal of a family member of House Jag’r. Even more confused, he opened the letter, and read it.

Dearest Father,

I send this letter to you in the hope that it might reach you soon. If my calculations are right, then I hope you had a wonderful Midwinter’s Night yesterday.

You might be wondering why I’m sending you this letter now instead of waiting for your return in a few weeks. You see, there’s been a development during the last weeks, and even though I know that the final decision only can be made once you’ve returned, I’m eager nonetheless to know your opinion on the matter.

Isku, Baron Hammond’s second son, asked me to become his wife. I know that his father already sent an official proposal, and that it is not my decision to make. But dearest Father, I want to let you know that, if it were my decision, I would gladly say yes.

So I’ll be waiting to hear from you, hoping for your approval.

In love,

Ester of House Jag’r

Gulping, Eret stared at the letter, and let his fingers glide over his sister’s name at the bottom. This didn’t come as a surprise, not really. Baron Hammond’s second son, Isku, had been a regular visitor during the summer months and had been one of the few that hadn’t been a nuisance but a real help instead. His genuine interest in Ester had been an open secret, and even though she’d tried to hide it, Eret had noticed that the interest was mutual.

No, this letter didn’t come as a surprise, and there was no real question whether their Father would approve of the union either. Baron Hammond was an influential and loyal vassal, and tying them tighter to their House would only strengthen them both – even if Eret the Elder would whine and complain about how it was a less than optimum dynastic union, given that Isku was only a second son, and the Hammonds were already vassals, and they should have held out for a first son of a Duke.  

But the irony...

Eret shivered. His sisters would marry out of the House. Ester would join House Hammond if this was approved, as the law stated.

And Dagur’s siblings were all in the Temple. Even though they were acknowledged by Oswald as his children, they were still Ástir-born bastards, meaning that, by law, none of them could inherit in Dagur’s stead. So, for both him and Dagur, the ‘line of succession’ was a noose around their necks, strangling their love. This letter was just a reminder that nothing had changed. No, if anything, it made everything more real.

He couldn’t tell for how long he stood out there staring at the letter, his thoughts chasing around and around. But when his fingers started to turn numb from the cold, he returned back inside. “You can tell my father that I approve,” he said to the still waiting courier, who nodded and then hurried out of the tavern. Eret gazed after him, then sighed.

He was happy for Ester. Marrying for love was a rare luck, and he was glad to know that at least one of those around him would have that luck. Without his help, his eyes wandered through the crowded room, to their niche, to Dagur. Yeah, it was rare luck indeed, one he himself would never have.

With a heavy heart, Eret weaved his way back to their table, hoping to find some comfortable distraction among his friends – but paused in his steps when he finally noticed the change. Daniel and Hiccup had stopped talking about their sketch, as it seemed. In fact, they weren’t talking at all anymore, and instead laughing cordially. All in all, that wasn’t that much of an unusual sight, except that something about them seemed off.

As if–

. o O o .

With a satisfied grin, Dagur leaned back in his chair and watched the other two men laugh about the silly joke he’d just made. Yep, this was definitely more fun. Not that he begrudged Daniel and Hiccup having this common interest, not at all. But this was their last day together, so this was really not the best time for such discussions. In addition, a tavern also wasn’t the right place for it, given that who knew who might be listening in on them discussing defence plans and such.

“What in Loki’s name happened to them?”

Dagur turned at the exasperated tone in Eret’s voice, and grinned up at his disbelieving expression. “Oh, I just got tired of all the technical terms. So I… helped them to relax a bit. See things in a different light.” It sounded good in his own ears. Sophisticated.

But Eret wasn’t fooled. His eyes turned into slits, then he leaned forward and sniffed at Hiccup’s beer. The big mug was half-empty by now, but with how people outside of Southshore brewed their beer for taste and not alcohol content, that didn’t mean much. Or… usually wouldn’t mean much.

“I can’t believe it,” Eret muttered. “You–” He broke off, then hastily rounded the table to take his seat, but pulled it closer to Dagur to speak quietly. “Are you out of your mind?” he hissed. “Please tell me you didn’t lace their beers with your Gods-damned Skullcrusher.”

Attempting to look innocent, Dagur schooled his expression and reached for his own beer. “I didn’t lace their beers with my fantastic self-brewed booze,” he repeated dutifully. But Eret knew him too well, obviously wasn’t buying it, and it only took a couple of seconds before Dagur broke. “No, it’s true,” he snickered. “I didn’t lace them. It was more of a liberal swig. Very liberal. But look how good it did them.” He pointed his round chin at the two men on the other side of the table, still laughing about Odin-knows-what. “We’re here to relax, Daniel specifically. And I understand that he enjoys talking about all this theoretical stuff. But he gets enough of that. Today, he should let go. Only the Gods know when he’ll get the chance to do so again.”

Dagur knew that he was right, but Eret still didn’t seem convinced. “Maybe,” he grumbled. “But this was still not a good idea. You do realise that their alcohol tolerance is not quite as high as yours or even mine, right? Freyr, you only would have needed to wait maybe another half an hour, and the beer alone would have been enough already. Now we can only hope that Daniel won’t suffer from a hangover when he starts his journey tomorrow. And we better make sure Hiccup safely gets back to the stables and doesn’t end up in some stream.”

Okay, maybe Eret had a point. But Dagur wouldn’t let such neglectable facts deter him. “I still say it’s more fun this way. But don’t worry, my Skullcrusher doesn’t cause hangovers, it’s too good for that.” Eret snorted at the blatant lie. The drink was aptly named, after all, for all that Dagur had named it after Eret’s uncle’s horse when the poor beast had been returned from the Tribes two years ago. “And as for Hiccup; stopping by the stables to make sure he gets there isn’t even much of a detour, so that shouldn’t be a problem either. Calm down, Chippy. Relax! We’re here to forget all worries for a night, remember?”

He could practically see how the anger flowed out of his lover, though whether it was due to his reasoning or to the use of his usual nickname – short for Chipmunk, a reference to his striped chin – Dagur couldn’t tell. Maybe he would have gotten an answer to this question as Eret was about to reply, his mouth already half-way open. But he never got the chance to actually say anything as his return had apparently finally soaked into Daniel’s alcohol-laced mind and the Prince looked up at him, beaming.

“Heh, Eret! When did you come back?” he asked cheerfully. His voice was a little too loud and there was a slightly glassy shimmer in his eyes, but in Dagur’s opinion, that wasn’t cause to be worried yet. “What did your old man want that couldn’t wait?”

Eret threw him a last meaningful look, but then turned toward Daniel. “He wanted to ask my opinion,” he explained, immediately catching Dagur’s interest too. “About… well, it’s not really a secret anyway, I guess. Apparently, my sister is getting married.”

There was a tightening on Eret’s face, Dagur noticed, and, knowing where it was coming from, he wished he could reach out and squeeze his hand to offer comfort. But that would have given away too much… Sometimes, Dagur really hated having to keep secrets.

“Your sister is getting married?” Daniel and Hiccup asked almost simultaneously.

“Ester or Mirja? Wait, how old were they? Aren’t they… still toddlers, or something?” Daniel looked positively perplexed, frowning as he tried to remember. His question made Dagur snicker. With all his additional duties that had come with growing up, it obviously had been a while since Daniel had been to Eastervale.

“‘s got to be Ester,” Hiccup muttered, voice slurring heavily. “She turned seventeen a few months back. And Mirja is almost fifteen, by the way. Hardly t-toddlers anymore. So did that–” he frowned a little, “–uh... son of a baron ask her after all? Wha’ was ‘is name? Isker?”

“Isku,” Eret corrected, nodding. “And yeah, apparently he did,” he added with a grimace.

“And… that’s not good?” Daniel asked hesitantly, reacting to Eret’s tense posture. “Didn’t you say something about how you wouldn’t mind–”

“Oh, it is good,” Eret interrupted quickly. “Isku is a good man. Reliable. Digilant. Not above getting his hands dirty. And he truly cares for Ester. No, I couldn’t hope for a better man, for her and for the stud farm in Sunhill alike. It's just…’ he trailed off, eyes cast down at his hands. He took a big gulp of his beer, and didn’t even grimace even though Dagur was sure he must have noticed the Skullcrusher he’d put in there too. “It’s just… weird, I guess? It’s as if we’ve really grown up now, you know? I mean, sure, we’re knights now and all, but this…”

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” Daniel muttered as Eret trailed off. He took a swallow of his beer as well, before gesturing around from one to the other, starting with Dagur. “Heather is married, but she’s older anyway, so it’s not that strange. But now Ester marries, and… And it makes one wonder where we will end up, doesn’t it?” He laughed, a little shakily, then shook his head. “I mean, could you imagine getting married anytime soon?”

Next to him, Eret chuckled and shook his head, and Dagur was quick to follow. No, he couldn't imagine it, didn’t want to imagine it. There was only one person he wanted to spend his life with, but it could never be. Having to actively fight glancing at Eret, he turned his head into the opposite direction – and halted when his eyes landed on Hiccup instead.

A bemused expression crossed his face. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction he'd expected to Daniel's question from the boy. No, Hiccup wasn't a boy, Dagur reminded himself. He was just as old as he and Eret, and it was just his slighter build and serving demeanour with the underlying humour that made him seem younger. But that wasn't the point.

Dagur cocked his head. Hiccup's eyes had an undeniable glassy gleam in them, the alcohol clearly affecting him more than Dagur had anticipated. But what really drew his attention was the fact that Hiccup was grinning like an idiot. His lips were stretched, teeth showing a little, and his eyes were unseeingly cast to the table between them. There was an absent-minded and dreamy look in them that somehow fit to the way his left hand rubbed a spot at his chest.

“Hah,” Dagur laughed out loud. “Maybe you can’t imagine that, but it looks like there’s someone here who can.” Both Eret and Daniel looked at him in surprise, then turned toward Hiccup when Dagur nodded at him.

“Uh... what?” Hiccup muttered. When he looked up at them all staring at him, he had an undeniably caught look on his face, yet the dreamy grin was still there somehow.

“Hiccup?” Daniel asked, disbelievingly. “Don’t tell me, you–”

“Oh, don’t dare to deny it,” Dagur interrupted Daniel gleefully. He propped himself up on his elbows and leaned over the table to look at Hiccup more intently. “That look on your face just now said it all.”

Hiccup made an unintelligible noise somewhere between a whine and a groan as he looked from one to the other.

Dagur grinned. “So? Tell us everything about her. Who is she? I guess it’s a ‘she’? I want to know everything!”

Hiccup, having finished looking around the three of them for rescue and finding none, let his shoulders slump. But then a shy but dreamy smile once more spread across his face. Again, his left hand reached for his chest, and this time it looked as if he was toying with something beneath his tunic. A charm maybe? Glancing at Hiccup’s neck, Dagur noticed a leather cord peeking out at the hem, one he was relatively certain hadn’t been there before. So he actually already wore a token of his love? Oh, this should be interesting.

“You’re right,” Hiccup eventually muttered, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “There is someone, and she’s…” he trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

The show was highly amusing to Dagur, but Daniel seemed more confused. “I thought… Didn’t you say something about never having been in love like that not so long ago?”

The smile on Hiccup’s face grew a little sheepish now as he looked up at Daniel. “Was the truth back then,” he affirmed. “But… So many things happened since then, and–”

“No humming and hawing now, Hiccup,” Dagur probed further. “We want all the details.”

When Hiccup turned his attention toward Dagur, there was a bright spark of excitement in his dazed eyes. He’d apparently made a decision, and it seemed as if he’d only waited for an opportunity like this, because once Hiccup started to talk there seemed to be no end. “She’s amazing!” he began. “I only met her after we got here, but it already feels as if we’ve known each other forever. She’s so beautiful, her eyes gleaming as bright as the sky, and her hair… her soft skin, and those sweet lips. I could spend all day kissing her. But she’s so much more than just beautiful, also kind and funny, witty and smart, strong and brave. So brave…” he trailed off for a moment, his eyes gazing into the distance as he kept playing with the charm beneath his tunic. “And I love her. Gods, I do. I love her so much.”

A fond grin played around Dagur’s lips as he listened to Hiccup’s outburst. When he and Eret had found him all those months ago in that roadside tavern, he’d been wrecked. There was no gentle way to put it, really. He’d been shattered and broken, both physically and mentally, more dead than alive. Later, during the weeks Dagur had met him in Eastervale and during this last week here at the capitol, he’d seemed better, healthier, but still so calm and cool, detached. But this now? This was undeniably a new spark of life, and Dagur was happy to see him like this.

He glanced at Eret, knowing that his lover cared deeply for his cousin and that he had been worried about Hiccup’s welfare too. It surprised him then when, instead of a fond smile, he saw a tense frown on Eret’s face. Was he still thinking about Ester and her marriage? He wanted to give Eret a nudge, maybe a questioning look, something subtle, but before he could actually do so, Daniel drew his attention again.

“That sounds great, Hic,” he said, placing a hand on Hiccup’s shoulder. “Honestly, I’m happy for you. Surprised you didn’t say anything before though.” Hiccup shuffled a bit, mumbling incoherently, but Daniel didn’t seem to notice. “So I was wrong after all... Are you really thinking about marriage already, even with how short a time you know each other?”

At that, Hiccup laughed, a little giddily. “Yes,” he gasped with a measure of confidence that surprised even Dagur. “Yes, I am. I want to marry her. And I will marry her one day. She’s the one for me, I know it.”

“So she feels the same?”

Hiccup turned to look at Daniel again, a sincere expression on his face now that only barely got dulled by his obvious state of drunkenness. “Amazingly, she does.”

Daniel nodded. For a moment, Dagur thought he noticed a rueful, almost sad expression crossing his face, but it was gone before he could be sure, replaced by an honest smile. “Then you shouldn’t wait. You never know what the future brings; you should go and ask her father for her hand right away. If you’re sure then there’s no point in waiting.”

“It’s… not that easy,” Hiccup muttered, his shoulders slumping. “First, I… I have to convince her father of my worth. And her brother, too…” The last words were barely more than a whisper, and Dagur wasn’t quite sure whether he’d understood them right.

“Oh, but why wouldn’t they?” Daniel went on cheerfully. “You’re a good man, Hiccup, and if they fail to see that then they’re stupid. If you think you need time then so be it. But know that I’ll be supporting you if that helps.”

Hiccup was quiet for a minute, and just stared at Daniel. “Thank you,” he eventually breathed, the gleam in his eyes almost looking like a hint of a tear. “That… that really means a lot to me!”

“Anytime,” Daniel grinned back. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Very true,” Eret chimed in, and lifted his mug. “To friends who stand up for each other. Which reminds me, I haven’t heard much from Snot in a while. Do you know what he’s up to lately? Last I heard was that his crush on Swanja’s maidservant got thoroughly destroyed by his father. The poor man. But seriously, what did he expect? As if Uncle Spite would let him marry a servant.”

“Also true,” Daniel laughed. “But to be fair, Rachel had already done a lot of destroying that crush by that time. No idea what her type is, but it certainly wasn’t Snot. Besides, from what I heard, he’s already well over her anyway.”

Grinning to himself, Dagur leaned back in his chair. Maybe Eret had been right and adding Skullcrusher to this party had been a little over the top, but he didn’t feel like it was doing much damage either. The atmosphere was definitely more to his liking now. He took another gulp of his own beer, by far the strongest mix on this table, then joined the others as they discussed Snot’s latest exploits. Yep, this was certainly more fun.

 . o O o .

*hides under rocks and enjoys the company there*

Here’s a reminder that there won't be a new chapter next week. However, there might be another bonus, possibly uploaded separately. Keep your eyes open :)

Next Chapter

[gaudeixcc]

Peloton news – Pride and prejudice

Deep breath. 

OK, here goes.

I am prejudice. At times, horrifically so.

There. I’ve said it.

I feel better. Marginally.

Society today is becoming increasingly intolerant of any individual who dares transgress the firming social lines of the protection of the individual. And if the individual is in any kind of minority group, then watch out buster, say nothing or have your very being besmirched for being an out-of-date and contemptible individual. Cast out of the society you circled in and forever damned as being a sinner amongst saints.

Last week a cable TV show announced the annual winner of the ‘Funniest joke at the fringe’ award.

Every year I read through the top 10 and smirk at the inevitable, but usual amusing and witty contenders. 

This year was no different. 

An example of the type of top gaggery comes from the 2017 winner. Topical, as it came at the time of a new release from the Royal mint:

I'm not a fan of the new pound coin, but then again, I hate all change

Nice. A gag that has both a slight play on meaning and it topical. 

This year’s winner was equally gentle in its bending of phrasing.

I keep randomly shouting out 'Broccoli' and 'Cauliflower' - I think I might have florets.

Now I read this at work one morning, and seconds later moved on with other things. A few days later and a casual glance at the BBC website and there was a follow-on story. This time Auntie Beeb has published an article about the annoyance that the Tourettes Society have felt at with this joke.

A prominent lady within the society voiced distinct disapproval;

“Humour is a great way of educating people - but not only is it not funny to poke fun at people with Tourette's, it's not even that funny a joke, is it?”

In the irony of all ironies, the Tourettes society were one week away from launching a campaign aimed at stopping the condition being a punchline in jokes. How d’ya like them fucking apples.

Now I personally think you’re treading a fine line by dictating what you can and can’t make jokes about. Clearly the old days of Chubby Brown and Jim Davidson are well and truly behind us. Humour used to belittle particular groups and minorities. It always left a nasty taste in the mouth. But not being funny because someone is in a minority group? Not such a clean-cut affair.

I find it almost unbearably funny taking the piss out of people who are different. People who don’t conform. Social groups are almost always driven by some sort of common conformity after all. Look at the Peloton. All centred around cycling and conforming to what that social circle deems acceptable.

Let’s look at a few examples of what happens when someone wanders off group alignment.

• JT rode a Cube FFS. And it was a triple! In the fullness of time he was nearly bullied into tears over that little faux pas

• RTA made the best repair he could to a pair of shoes that had given him particularly good value. Merciless haranguing followed

• Has Damo worn the famour winter ‘lobster glove’ since that particularly cold ride on January?

• Macca and the white ‘show the world your penis’ bib shorts. 

Now none of the above makes any difference to the enjoyment of cycling. But they all made a helluva difference to the enjoyment of cycling on that particular day (for 7 out of the 8 riders at any rate).

But this is the thing. Comedic highlighting of group norm differences within the group, gentle isolation, then regular revisiting of past errors affirms group identity. And, it actually re-shapes individual behaviour and brings it back to group behaviour.

An interesting point to ponder is this. Should the individual who made the brave move away from group compliance, continue to do so without giving a merry fuck, would the group then gently steer towards him as a standard? Would his own confidence and ‘don’t-give-a-flying-fuckery’ actually position him as a standard setter…one to follow…? 

It’s difficult to believe that the Peloton could, in some parallel universe all be riding about the place in white penis-flaunting bib-shortery… but you never know.

Thank fuck Macca is a social conformist is all I can think.

This behaviour however is inbred. It’s part of humanity. When it’s one of your own, it’s good natured and mistakes are to be pounced on with glee. They’re funny. And there is nothing quite as satisfying as being the first one to publicy spot a fellow rider’s error.

Outside the social group, the prejudices are all still there, but all sense of warmth evaporates. This is where my inner demons roam. This is where my critical and saintly eye turns on humanity from the comfort of my own stately glass house.

I have a broad expansive set of prejudices and as part of recognising who I am, I feel the need to unburden myself. Think of it as detoxing. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be a better person. More accepting. Happier, dare I say it.

So, in no particular order, here is a summarised list of some of the things that really hack me off about people whom I don’t know who have the temerity to be different to me.

• People who ride bicycles with the seat too low. Every time of see one of these hapless fuckers I think exactly the same thing. ‘Not very efficient on the quads that…. And you could do with dropping a gear or two. That slow cadence is making is harder that it should be.’ My gaze lingers for a few seconds whilst I mentally shake my head. Now what difference does it make to me that ‘random station commuter’ is going to spend exactly 8 mins not being as absolutely efficient as he could be? Answer? No difference whatsoever. So why do I feel slightly annoyed by it? How is this man’s seat height affecting my life in anyway whatsoever?

• People who ride by pushing the pedals with the middle of their feet as opposed to with the ball of their foot. When I see this, I want to see justice delivered instantly, preferably by the police using a taser gun to stop the offender in their tracks before then shouting at the quivering and prone floor-bound body to ‘pedal that fucking bike properly’ and then going about lesser police priorities. An overreaction? I think not. If I’m with the kids and I see this social travesty I point it out them. Seriously. It absolutely boils my piss.

• Now this one is perhaps my all time, most heinous of heinous crimes against civilised society. I mean, when exactly did some people revert to living with the apes in that great troop on the savanna? Have we forgotten millennia of tool-making and using skills? One of the very few things I might add, that genuinely separates us from nearly all living creatures on earth. When sitting in a restaurant or pub for that matter, and I see a mature homo sapien, who can seeming talk. Seemingly dress themselves in a manner compliant with social norms. Who can order food. Who can pay for food. Who can interact with waiting staff with courtesy and conviviality. But, who can’t hold a fucking fork like you are supposed to…! I mean for the love of sweet baby Jesus… you’re holding the thing with thumb and three fingers (pinky redundant)…jabbing it down like a fucking chop stick…. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Why aren’t your parents at this very second, beating you to within an inch of your worthless life at your inability to grasp and use the most basic of tools in not just the right way, but the ONLY fucking way to use a fork!!! When I see this, I just want to shout ‘WANKER’ across the table and over my salmon and quinoa salad. 

I had my annual BUPA health-check last week and no ulcer was detected, but I’m telling ya, it’s fucking coming.

This weekend I’ve been mountain biking with my eldest. I bloody love it. He bloody loves it. He’s new to it and the activity is nothing short of joyous. 

Yesterday we went over to Holmbury St Mary and into some of the well-established MTB trails. Second time round I had a proper go at ‘Barry knows best’, a long swopping bermy 3 or so minutes which is just fabulous for the 2 beginners alike. This time though, whilst absolutely caning it and trying to set a time which my son wouldn’t beat (he did), I properly stacked it. Half way down. Came down hard and narrowly missed a tree. Very lucky really to only have a hurty shoulder today. After the event we went to the local pub and had chips and a pint. (Well, I did. Jnr had chips and a couple of glasses of coke. It’s like the Tenants super for the young generation.)

Outside there were scores of pretty serious looking bikes and bikers. They all looked different, but oddly the same. They all conformed to this particular group norm. I could tell my eldest was a little wary of being seen as a beginner. Neither of us where particularly dressed to ‘shred the gnar’ or whatever the fuck it is Macca says when he’s talking MTB mumbo jumbo. 

I sat there and munched a chip. ‘Don’t worry about it son… I don’t care about them, we’re doing this and enjoying it. I don’t care what we look like. We have as much right to be here doing this as they do’.

Off we went, back to the car. I felt bruised. Jnr felt good following the Strava analysis. He’d come out on top. As we walked past a table of fellow diners I noticed the husband holding his fork the wrong way. Our eyes crossed. As I walked past I felt a sense of calm solidarity. He had every right to be there. Just as much as me. And if he insists on eating like a wanker, that’s his call. 

Celebrate the commonalities, not the differences. 

Hold that thought as the rag-tag peloton makes its way to France this year. Perhaps we will see more tolerance? (I bloody hope not).

Finally, for the first time in 5 years I rode with Clemo today. The Peloton’s favourite chippy and the most upright tax-paying citizen this country has seen has rediscovered his cycling mojo and is out on his bike.

Clemo and Amesy in Majorca fo G20?  For the fist time in this edition, I’m not taking the piss.

Ride safely mon fuckerettes.

Hoppo