#despite him not understanding what he's getting himself into. and yes that includes Crawl Green owner getting him a second chance

[shiraishi--kanade]

Still not over how Akito's pre-ORS assignment was focused on younger people in town VS An's being focused on Vivid Street veterans. Because *collapses* please understand

[iatethepomegranate]

For now, they had this

So Shadowgast has finally made me write fanfic again. I started this a few hours after the finale, and then woke up to find Twitter confirmation for my reading of their epilogue. So here’s 2k of soft wizards confirming for each other what they already knew, in their quiet way. I’m playing with the timeline ordering of things, so my interpretation is not necessarily the Canon interpretation of how things went between them.

Demisexual Essek is addressed here, without saying it explicitly. I tried. Massive spoilers for the finale, obviously.

____

For now, they had this

As much as Caleb trusted Essek to handle himself, he had to admit he was nervous about leaving him behind in Aeor. But the longer they spent together, the greater the weight of things unsaid, and Caleb had to take care of something first.

He had to go home. Blumenthal.

So he did. Found his parents’ resting place. Buried his letters to them. Grieved.

He didn’t go back to Aeor right away, the weight of the Sending stone Essek had foisted on him heavy in his pocket. Essek didn’t need it; he could Send without expending too much of his reserves. Essek hadn’t said anything, but Caleb was keenly aware this stone was solely for his benefit.

Caleb lingered close to Blumenthal for a time, feeling the finality wash over him. He could sometimes feel the phantom weight of the letters as if they still hung from his book holster. It would take time for him to get used to not carrying them around anymore. Just like he had carried the weight of what he had done for so long. And likely always would. But he was more at peace with that now. He had a mission to prevent this from ever happening again. There were things he had done about it, and things he would continue to do for as long as he lived. Fixing his home would be a lifelong mission, but he was finally ready to handle it.

Essek left him alone for a few days, until he must have grown anxious. Well, more anxious than usual. Essek, Caleb had learned, was an anxious person.

“Caleb,” Essek’s voice appeared in Caleb’s head. Soft, but concerned. “I apologise for the intrusion. Are you all right?” The barest pause. “I am safe up here, but… I am concerned. But no rush. Please.”

“I’m all right,” Caleb replied before the spell could decay, losing the thread of the dome ritual he had begun to cast moments ago. “I will return tomorrow. Stay safe. And thank you.”

Jester would be appalled that he didn’t use all his words, but Caleb was… wrung out. Catharsis was, by its nature, exhausting. His response must have satisfied Essek, who did not Send again.

Caleb began to cast the dome once more, blending the exterior with the greens and browns of the woods, but transparent inside so he could fall asleep under the stars of his childhood one last time.

***

Caleb risked the teleport directly into Aeor the following morning, grasping the paper from the records room firmly in his hand. He mercifully landed exactly where he had intended, breathing the dusty air. His ribs expanded more freely than they had in years.

Essek floated cross-legged just above the floor in the corner, looking up from the pages of a ledger in his hands. He watched silently for a second, as he usually did while waiting for a wild magic surge in this place. When none materialised, he gave Caleb a soft smile.

“Welcome back. Come. I am sure you will find this interesting.”

Essek rarely pushed Caleb to talk when he wasn’t ready; he was grateful, especially now. They sat together on the floor for a time, smudges of salt and soot on their fingers as they dug deeper into the records of Aeor. Stacks of books, long-hidden information, and Essek’s steady, quiet company. Caleb had needed this.

It was only when Caleb threw off his coat to more comfortably crawl among the books, collecting fragments of a damaged volume that had fallen apart at the spine, that Essek said anything unrelated to the work.

“Uh, Caleb?”

“Ja?”

“Your other book…”

Caleb followed Essek’s gaze to the empty side of his holster. “Ah.” He sat back, depositing the rescued fragments on the floor in front of him. “It was… time to let go.”

Essek watched him quietly, but did not press. But, mere weeks earlier, he had listened to Caleb lay out all his plans to save his parents. He had even offered to help him. And had been visibly relieved when Caleb instead destroyed the time travel device and all the notes that could have been used to replicate it. He knew enough to understand.

So Caleb explained. The letters he had written. His plans to give them to his mother and father after he had saved them. But he had to let go.

“So, I…” Caleb had to take a moment, the tears threatening to overtake him.

Essek silently looped an arm over his shoulders and pulled him in, tucking Caleb into the hollow of his throat. Caleb breathed him in, and remained there. 

“I teleported the book into the earth between their graves,” he murmured. “It's the closest I can… it’s with them now. Best I can manage.” Talking hurt too much, so he stopped.

“Caleb,” Essek said softly. “I’m proud of you.”

Caleb let himself cry.

***

Essek was always gentle with him, but even more so in the following days. Passing of materials gave rise to held hands, lingering touches, lingering stares. Slowly, Caleb began to feel better. As much as he believed he could, at least for now. It was better than he had felt in a long time. With time, perhaps, the wounds would ache less. Never perfect, but better.

Having disturbed an absorber of an evening, the resulting scuffle left Caleb too tired to summon the tower. He instead set to conjuring the dome while Essek kept watch. They were a little far to retreat to the records room, but they had managed to barricade an entranceway with damaged furniture despite their pitiful strength. Essek, of course, had demonstrated he was more than capable of surprising everyone, including himself, in moments of great duress. Fortunately, Caleb had not gotten himself trapped under a tower this time.

So, Essek hovered close to Caleb during the ritual, keeping an eye on the door they had barricaded. He was tense, but Caleb had to get this dome up before he could address it. There was also a gash on his forearm that would need dressing… but later. Focus.

The dome popped into existence. Caleb put his spellbook away, feeling his shoulder protest. He would need Essek’s help checking the damage.

Essek ducked into the dome, sighing. “Let us not repeat the events of today.”

Caleb produced a set of clean bandages, a cloth and a waterskin. “Agreed.” He grabbed Essek’s arm and dabbed the dampened cloth against the cut. Essek hissed in pain, but didn’t flinch. He hadn’t in a while. Caleb wasn’t sure if that was a sign Essek was getting hurt far too much, or a sign of trust. Both, perhaps. Caleb bandaged the wound, and held Essek’s arm for a moment longer. He was okay. The fight had been tiring, but they had both come out of it. A cut on the arm was nothing in the scheme of things.

Essek extricated his arm from Caleb’s grip, and pushed Caleb’s coat off his shoulders. “Let me see.”

Caleb hadn’t spoken of the pain, but he also hadn’t tried to hide it. Essek carefully loosened the book holsters--a research journal, for the moment, filled the spot once occupied by the letters--and set them aside. He then ran his fingers gently across the front laces of Caleb’s shirt, until Caleb nodded his consent.

Essek gently tugged the shirt loose until he could pull one side off the sore shoulder. He frowned; Caleb couldn’t see the cause. Essek prestidigitated the washcloth clean and wet it, carefully draping it across Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb closed his eyes as the cool sensation took the edge off the pain. He heard a soft mumble, and sensed movement akin to the somatic components of a basic evocation cantrip. The cloth grew colder.

Essek placed his hand over the cloth, squeezing gently. “I think you pulled something. I will continue to ice it tonight.”

“Thank you,” Caleb whispered.

“Rest.” Lips on his forehead. “I will keep watch.”

Caleb opened his eyes. Essek was kneeling at his side, not floating. Too tired, perhaps. But his eyes were sharp, trained on the barricaded doorway.

“Essek.”

“Yes?” Eyes still focused outward.

“Relax a moment. This has been a hard day for both of us.”

Essek let out a long breath, turning his gaze towards Caleb. “I apologise. I… have a hard time seeing you hurt.”

Caleb’s keen mind kindly conjured for him all the times Essek had seen him hurt much worse than this, but he held his tongue. Frequency did not make these things easier. Least of all for Essek, who had been alive for over a century but had only been genuinely close to a small number of people. Caring was hard. Worth it, but hard.

“I know,” Caleb said. “The very nature of caring for someone… witnessing their suffering… it hurts.”

Essek frowned at the floor, but then lifted his gaze to Caleb. “I worried while you were away.”

“I know. And thank you.” Caleb pulled Essek in with his good arm, laying his head on his shoulder. He felt, not for the first time, the urge to talk about this thing between them. But, as he had felt many times before, now was not the time.

Caleb and Essek were not the kind of people to blurt out complicated feelings in a moment of distress or exhaustion. So he closed his eyes and rested against Essek instead. They were what they were to each other, and Caleb was confident this would not disappear overnight. Putting that into words could wait a little longer.

***

The next day was quiet, spent examining record books rescued from the rampage of yesterday’s absorber. Caleb and Essek needed a quieter day, and the slower pace was welcome. They rarely spoke while in the throes of research, always keenly aware of each other, passing paper and writing implements back and forth, smudging soot and salt against each other’s skin as their touches lingered.

It was everything Caleb had ever wanted.

Taking a moment to stretch his back and roll his aching shoulder, his eyes were drawn to Essek’s form in the corner. So engrossed in his reading and note-taking, he had stopped floating about an hour ago. Hunched on the hard, warped floor of this broken city, eyes intense as he scribbled feverishly. He was running low on ink again.

Caleb chuckled softly and crawled closer, gently nudging another inkwell into Essek’s reach. Essek paused in his scribbles, a small smile softening his features. He reached out, eyes retracing the notes he had just written, but instead of taking the ink, he caught Caleb’s fingers and laced them with his own.

Caleb had figured out he was in love with Essek long ago, but in this moment, those feelings swelled until he thought he would burst into tears. He squeezed Essek’s hand. Essek squeezed back.

And the words finally found their way from Caleb’s heart, and out of his mouth. “I love you.”

Essek tore his eyes from the papers, softening as he met Caleb’s gaze. “I love you, too, Caleb.”

Of course, the curse of a mind as keen as Caleb’s was the ability to have too many thoughts at once. He loved Essek. Essek loved him (Caleb had already known that, but it was beautiful to hear out loud). Caleb was human. Essek was an elf. Caleb probably had sixty years left to live, if he was lucky. Essek would likely live another six hundred or more, if he was careful. Essek was on the run from the Dynasty. Caleb had to return home, at least periodically, to root out corruption and make it the place he had once believed it to be. So many factors. So many barriers.

He wanted what time he could have with Essek, but it would be cruel to entangle him when Caleb’s lifespan was barely a speck of dust in the winds of time, when there were so many things they would have to do apart even before Caleb would succumb to his mortality. Caleb had hurt the people he loved too much already.

Essek’s free hand slid up Caleb’s neck and into his hair, cradling the base of his skull. “Your eyes are sad again, my love.”

“This will hurt you,” Caleb said, “in the end.”

“I know.” And it was Essek who pressed their foreheads together this time. “I will cherish the time we have together, and whatever comes after that. It is… rare for me to feel this way about anyone. I will not give you up so easily, even if I know it will end. I am who I am today because of you, and I will carry you with me long after you are gone.”

Caleb had tried to keep people at arm’s-length before, just as Essek had. But he felt emotions deeply, especially love, and it went against his nature to deny the love he felt. And Essek was the love of his life. It would hurt in the end, but they still had time. Decades, if they were lucky.

Essek and Caleb knew a thing or two about pulling luck in their favour.

The moment stretched beyond words. Caleb reached up to kiss Essek’s forehead. They were both reserved people, not given to grand gestures. It was not necessary. Their love bled into everything they did together, in dressing each other’s wounds, in defending each other in battle, and in their quiet moments--the shared silences, the passing of research materials, the touch of soot-stained fingers.

They were what they were to each other, in the time they had together. The joy would one day turn to sorrow, but, for now, they had this.

[sithsecrets]

exchange | din djarin x reader

the crest’s one and only crewmember buys mando a few shirts, and he gives her a gift in return.

---

2k words

mentions: none, this is fluff!

this is part 1 of my valentine’s week special! you can find the other parts here!

---

You take notice of it when you’re doing the laundry.

Mando’s got the Crest cruising through hyperspace, course set for Nevarro, and you’re catching on up on chores in the meantime. The baby’s three little outfits are clean and stain-free, you’ve set aside a pair of your own pants for mending, and Mando… Mando, you come to find out, has two shirts. Total. As in, two shirts including the one he’s currently wearing under his armor. You know he had more than that the last time you did the washing, but— but shit, he got cut by a quarry last week, and another one of his beat-up long-sleeves ripped and bit the dust shortly after that. So yep, Mando’s small wardrobe is now even smaller, and that makes you sigh. Even now, the brown cloth you have in your hands feels thin and worn, rough fibers catching your fingers every now and then. You think about telling Mando that he needs some new clothes, but you know he’ll just put it off or insist that whatever he has now is fine. And so you decide that you’ll resolve the issue yourself, knowing that something from the bazaar will probably do.

Sure enough, you find just what you need. The textile vendor says he can match Mando’s measurements without a problem after you show him Mando’s singular extra shirt, and a droid whips up the garments for you right there. You come away with two black and two brown, all long-sleeves and all made from the same material Mando seems to preder. Two are a bit thicker than the others— something for him to wear in the cold— and you decide that they’ll do nicely for his needs. Back on the Crest, you leave the stack of clothes on Mando’s bed and then promptly forget about them, distracted by the baby’s antics further back in the hull.

Mando asks you about the shirts later, holding the stack out to you like he’s looking for an explanation.

“What are these?” he asks, and you’re too busy with dinner to make a big deal of it.

“Those are for you,” you tell him, cutting the heat under the stew you’re making. The baby’s trying to get his hands in the pot, so you snatch him up, settling the little green boy on your hip as you add the finishing touches on tonight’s meal. “I realized you had like, two shirts when I was doing laundry on the way here.”

Mando sounds absolutely floored. “You bought these for me?”

That earns him a little laugh, and you hand him the baby. “No, Mando, I stole them off an Imperial transport vessel. Yes, I bought them for you! What kind of crewmember would I be if I let you run around looking ragged?”

“I…” Mando trails off, settling the Child in his arms. “Thank you.”

And then the two of you don’t talk about it again, the matter quickly forgotten in the midst of the evening ritual and your departure from Nevarro.

Week later, the Crest touches down on a distant planet, a place you’ve never been that Mando knows well. He tells you that the three of you will be spending some time here, and that makes you happy. It seems like a nice place, and the locals are kind.

Two days into this little excursion, you’re about to crawl in bed, only or stop short when you see a little satin pouch sitting on top of the covers. It’s pale blue, blue like the sky on your home planet, and no bigger than your palm. Curious, you pick it up gently, examining the little white embroidery on the edge, the way the drawstring pulls the fabric together just so. It pulls open easily, and you dump the contents into your palm without a second thought.

Scores of pale, pearly little beads glint in the light, strung neatly on a thin, delicate chain. Nothing about the trinket is particularly special, but it’s the simplicity that makes it stunning, in your eyes. You’ve had jewelry over the course of your lifetime, naturally, but never anything so dainty and pretty as this. The beads and the way they’re strung are styles unique to this planet, and you’ve seen countless people wearing necklaces similar to this one over the past few days.

There’s only one person that could have placed this here for you to find, and you go up to the cockpit to speak with him not five minutes after his gift falls in your hand.

Mando’s a bit busy when you go up there, fiddling with something on his vambrace in the pilot’s chair. You feel a little shy as you come to stand before him, the string of beads dangling from your fingers.

“Did you buy me this?” you ask softly, and that’s when Mando finally looks up at you.

“I—” The helmet tilts in the direction of your hand, and it’s like he’s a whole different person. Mando becomes nervous, back stiffening in his chair as he looks from you, to the necklace, and then back again. “I, um. Yeah, I did.”

Just hearing him say it makes you feel lightheaded, but you tell yourself not to get your hopes up. “What for?”

Mando stutters terribly, but he does manage to give you an explanation. “You— Well, you got me those shirts a few weeks ago, and you take good care of the baby. And the ship. And me. I just— I thought you’d like it, that’s all.”

You study the beads carefully for a moment, admiring the way they shimmer in your hand.

“I don’t just like it,” you declare, “I love it.”

And then you’re threading Mando’s give around your neck, reaching behind your head to do up the clasp. The jewelry is just as light as you thought it would be, sitting daintily against your collarbones. Mando watches you do all of this, and not the hundredth time do you wish you could see his face.

“Thank you, Mando, really.”

He nods. “You’re welcome.”

---

“Ah, so my suspicions were correct.”

The sound of the fruit vendors voice catches your attention, and you find yourself face-to-face with her satisfied smile when you lift your head up. You’ve been doing business with her every so often for almost a week now, always intrigued by the selection she has to offer. She also likes the baby, and he’s more than happy to coo at her for a free morsel or two.

“Excuse me?” you blurt, completely lost here. The old woman shakes her head at you, white braid swishing from side to side behind her back, and the smile on her face only deepens.

“Your necklace, child,” she says, pointing at the beads strung around your throat. You touch it on impulse, the baby wriggling in your other arm, and grow even more confused.

“I don’t understand,” you tell her, feeling stupid now, but the old woman just laughs. Her wrinkled fingers are soft on your cheek, the mirth in her eyes unmistakable.

“You don’t have to be secretive with me, my dear,” she chuckles, “I knew you were the Mandalorian’s woman from the minute I saw the both of you together. No man watches a woman that closely if he doesn’t care for her. And now he’s gotten you a necklace, so.”

She punctuates this with a shrug, behaving as if the meaning of your new accessory should be obvious, and you think you might actually pass out.

“I—” You huff, grasping for the right words. “I’m not— I don’t know the ways of this planet,” you say finally, mostly because it’s the truth and mostly because you don’t know how to so much as mention anything else the fruit vendor’s said.

It feels like you’ve been slapped across the face, like someone picked you up and shook you and until your brain rattled around too hard in your skull. Mando knows this place, he knows this city... Custom and culture are sacred to him, even if they have nothing to do with his own, and you find it difficult to believe that Mando gave you this gift without first considering its meaning. This is the man who speaks with the Tuskens, a man who has committed himself to a creed, a man who never wants to be rude or imposing unless he’s dealing with an enemy—

No. No, Mando definitely bought this for you on purpose.

In the thirty seconds it takes for you to form these thoughts, the fruit vendor comes to realize that your confusion was no act. You must look terrible, for she puts a hand on your arm as if to keep you upright.

“My dear, surely— I mean, the two of you care for this baby, and he is always watching over you. I simply thought there was something there, several people in this market did. Forgive me, please, I had no idea—”

“No, no, forgive me,” you blurt, rushing to reassure the woman that she has caused no offense. “I had no idea what these meant. I would have— Maker above, I should have—”

The old woman’s bewilderment matches your own, and you realize that you’re raving like a lunatic.

“I have to go!”

And then you are going, going and going until you’re back on the Crest. The baby seems content to laze about in his pram, thank the stars, and you put him down almost without a second thought, mind racing a thousand kilometers a second. You clamor up to the cockpit like a woman possessed, the noise movement drawing you there. Sure enough, Mando’s right where you thought he would be, parked in his pilot’s chair and fiddling with something on one of his blasters. He doesn’t even turn to look at you when you come up, completely calm despite your frantic movement.

“How was the—?”

“Why did you buy me this?” you cut, bisecting his question with one of your own. Mando’s hands still at once, and he tucks the gun back in the holster at his side.

“Someone told you,” he declares, finally turning to face you. All you can do is nod, heart beating so hard it almost hurts. You can almost taste it, this thing you’ve been wanting for months now, it’s right there on your tongue— but you don’t want to speak, don’t want to be the first one to suggest it. It’s never worked out for you in the past, and with a man like Mando thrown into the equation, you’re not sure what that kind of bravery might get you.

Mando sighs, heavy and tired. You watch him more closely than you’ve watched anyone before in your life as he stands, coming to face you. It’s cramped in this little room, and if you took even just half a step forward, the two of you would be pressed flush. He doesn’t say a word to you, just stands there and stands there until you can’t take it anymore.

“If you didn’t mean it like that, Mando, it’s fine, but I just want to know—”

“I… I’m not good at talking.” These first words have you cutting yourself short, and Mando continues like you never spoke in the first place. “To people, I mean. I can do what I need to do to conduct business, but other than that, I’m useless when it comes to things like this.”

“You talk to the baby,” you offer, and Mando nods.

“I do talk to the baby. Sometimes I even talk to you, but not enough.” He takes in a deep breath, seemingly gathering the courage to continue. “That’s why I did this.”

Mando runs his fingers along the beads at your throat, and it takes all you have not to fall down.

“This… This said everything for me. Or it was supposed to, at least.”

You melt at that, shoulders sagging. “Mando, I didn’t know, not until today.”

“I know,” he says companionably. “It’s not your fault I’m a coward.”

“You’re not a coward,” you declare, shaking your head. Mando brings his hand up, pressing it to your cheek like he’s been doing it all his life.

“If I’m not a coward, what am I then?”

All you can do is smile. “You’re mine.”

[trashogram]

Ryuk/Reader 5 

Not too sure if anyone is still interested in these or wants to be tagged? I’ll be crossposting them on AO3 though. 

Your friend was beaming, up until she looked down and saw your glossy shoes. You crossed your arms as May’s face fell, not at all ready for the obvious browbeating.

“You’re wearing those?” She asked. Her brow was knitted as she stepped forward, whirling around to face you again once you’d closed the door behind them.

“If I actually do dance, I don’t want to break my ankle trying.” You pointed at May warningly. “And I don’t want to come home and have to soak bloody feet in the tub before bed.”

“It’s not gonna get that bad!” Your friend said.

She scoffed at you while making herself cozy, promptly slumping onto your sofa and pulling her bag out to rummage. You felt a stab of hurt at her dismissiveness, but instantly berated yourself. You were way too sensitive; May didn’t mean to make you feel bad.

Ryuk was standing idly in the background, staring from the dining room table. He hadn’t said much since you’d come out of your room, not that he could unless you wanted May to think you were (way) too far gone. It didn’t phase you as your stomach was twisting unrelentingly.

You felt sick. That was despite knowing that going out to a public place tonight, with a friend, wasn’t the dire crisis you’d been making it out to be. Going out wasn’t exactly your style - but neither was turning down your friend when they asked you for anything.

You knew, deep, deep down, that your inability to say ‘no’ was a real problem, but May was one of your only friends. She was outgoing and chatty, and she actually acted her age instead of like a recluse. Her vibrance made you feel light-hearted, able to set aside weighty thoughts and behave like nothing mattered.

*

It was a solid hour and a half before May had run off into the crowd and left you sitting in a booth.

May had left her drink unattended, but you didn’t feel too bad about offering it up. Your friend was already buzzing by the time they’d gotten in, and while the drinks were scammer-worthy expensive, you knew that May would hardly miss this one.

“Try this!” You said, sliding your back up the booth to gain some height with May’s discarded drink in your hand.

The martini glass floated out of your grasp as you watched Ryuk eye the liquid inside, unceremoniously dumping it into his maw.  

“Eugh.” Ryuk grunted, some of the liquid leaking out of his wide mouth and dribbling down his face.

“What?” You shouted over the music. “You don’t like it? It’s apple-flavored!”

Ryuk’s nose scrunched in an empathetic look of disgust, and you failed to cover your laughter as you took the glass he’d held out at arms length. “Nothing about that tastes like an apple.”

You matched his melodrama with a pout of your own.

“Aww, come on! You’re being so picky.” You traded the near-empty glass for your own, still full and sloshing up to him to half-ass a toast. “It's good! You just have no taste.”

Ryuk’s golden eyes gleamed as they rested upon your open, ruddy face. He didn’t say anything more, just laughed. The sound sent a pleasant shiver crawl down your spine, while you likened it to the crackling that came when lightning struck the earth.

You smiled, feeling lightheaded with the alcohol and the fondness amix in your system. Perhaps he was the stuff of nightmares to most people, but to you, Ryuk had become a friend. And although you were unsure of whether or not you could consider your feelings reciprocated, just the thought made you happy.

You drank in his appearance. The multicolored lights bounced off the various silver bobbles that hung off his suit. His belt in particular caught the pinks and greens from above, and you studied it. It was a pretty badass belt, but it was also a practical utility even for a god of death. It was the only thing holding up his pants and loincloth as, unlike his upper body, there didn’t appear to be any stitchings between them and his skin.

He could probably take them off.

The smile on your face slowly disappeared when said thought didn’t go away immediately. Heat bloomed beneath your cheeks, and you ducked your head to stare down at the grimy table, imagination lost to far off, inappropriate places. That regular queasy sensation of considering something taboo was still there, in your brain, but the wild atmosphere laid the excitement on thick and the sense diminished.      

You looked away, back out into the crowd of people, all of them completely unaware of your conundrum - as was your otherworldly companion perched overhead. There were couples in your field of vision, including May and some guy. Everything was cast in darkness down here, but you could make out the sight of your friend throwing caution to the wind and grinding on him.

Without the barrier of clothing, you were sure that May and Whateverhisnamewas wouldn’t have any trouble getting right down to it in the middle of the dancefloor.  

Eyes glazing over, your attention leapt to the heat growing in your belly. The past few weeks had given you more insight into the way the shinigami felt about you. You could be wrong, of course, but you were sure that if you asked, Ryuk would definitely take his pants off for you.

You brought a hand up to your mouth, pretending to prop yourself up by the chin to hide the gasp that escaped from your lips, even with the music drowning everything out.

The alcohol was slowly working its way through your system, you finally reassured yourself, and that was likely what was causing these intrusive thoughts. Maybe this was the strange but necessary way in which your brain was telling you that you’d hit your limit.  

Pushing away the glass, with its malty-green liquid all out of fizz, you started to slide out of the booth and address Ryuk once more.

“Hey, I’m gonna tell May we’re going.” You called.

You rolled your eyes as Ryuk leaned down, hand cupping over one ear as he made a show of not being able to understand you over the noise. You thoughtlessly swatted at his leg, inhibitions temporarily abandoned.

Ryuk looked at you. “Done for the night?”

Had you been sober, you might’ve questioned why he wasn’t throwing a fit over not staying longer. It hadn’t been too long, and often if you were too quick to jump at going home, your deathly partner would whine about how un-fun you were. That had to be especially applicable after you’d withheld the information about this weekend excursion -- Ryuk had vocalized how fascinating he found the idea once it finally escaped your lips… But he’d been quiet as soon as May arrived and hadn’t said more than a few words at a time since.

You hiccuped. “Just gotta say bye.”

Ryuk’s orbish eyes flashed as he looked off to the side, probably to help you find your way in the crowd, and you were momentarily preoccupied by whether or not you should ask May to leave with you. You doubted she would, but who knows? You didn’t want to leave her in a terrible situation if she was trapped --

With a startled yelp, you tripped on your way out of the booth, not accounting for the lift that you’d had to jump onto beforehand just to get into this ridiculous seating arrangement. You fell forward, sensible shoes scuffling the edge of the raised platform and one of your hands banging the underside of the table while you tried to grab onto whatever you could.

Tough luck, but even with Ryuk cackling in your ear, you registered one of his large, taloned hand instinctively snatching you by your arm.

Your eyes narrowed as you concentrated on having your feet planted firmly on the ground floor, and at the sudden dual set of voices confusing your already impaired senses.

Your shinigami was saying your name - or had started to - when another male voice rendered him silent.

“You good?” Suddenly there was a man beside you, arm outstretched and making you squeak as he used it to press you to him. He was either under the impression that you needed the support, or wanted to give you the impression that you needed it.

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was much too close, and Ryuk’s grip on your arm had disappeared.

*

“You sure do like looking at the human world, don’t you?”

The shinigami had his back turned to Armonia Justin whole kneeling down on the ground made of sand and dust. The name above his head rippled, but he was otherwise unresponsive.

“I suppose that makes sense.” Justin continued. “I don’t remember being as new as you. I’m not even sure if Shinigami can be considered young… but I’m sure that if I were young, the humans would distract me as well.”

Silence followed his words. It wasn’t much of an attempt at conversation, but then Justin didn’t care too much if he was entertaining their newest member or not. It was, in fact, a little annoying to put up with this arrogant shinigami and his bold refusal to integrate into their realm.

But then, the King had seemed so gleeful at the idea of this new guy. He’d laughed as though enjoying an inside joke while putting the body together.

Armonia Justin sat as he always did, perched on a golden throne. He was no king himself, but there was some truth to being of a more divine position in his case. He knew more than a lot of the others of his kind did.

A breeze blew by, rolling stagnant air about. “I’m not looking at the world.”

“Huh?” Justin asked.

“I’m not looking at the world.” The name above the Shinigami - Helios - rippled again as his tone changed to one of irritation.

“No? What else would you be doing while looking into that pool, then?” Justin snapped back.

“Searching.” Helios shrugged his shoulders beneath the overcoat he’d been bequeathed. “I heard that another death note was dropped into the human world.”

Justin paused, then began snickering. “Aha, yes, that did happen. I’m surprised you weren’t there to watch the show. I believe the death god who ‘dropped’ it was of interest to you at one point?”

“Are you trying to help him find it?”

It actually startled Armonia Justin when Helios snorted. He sounded as arrogant as ever, but some wounds had been scratched and the posture of the newborn tightened considerably.

“Like I would ever help Ryuk.” Helios shook his head. “No, no. I want to see who picked it up.” 

[wheelersdealer]

Can’t Deny My Love

Summary: Y/n is in denial about her love for Steve, Steve is in denial about his chances with Y/n. Robin encourages Steve to embrace his, fear encourages Y/n to embrace hers. Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader, a bit of Robin x Reader Warnings: STRANGER THINGS SEASON 3 SPOILERS and Profanity. A/n: Requests for Stranger Things season 3 are open!

“Go! Shit shit shit shit!” Your sneakers skid against the linoleum as you come face to face with a room full of uniformed Russian scientists — your best guess. There’s the gate past the glass they all look past, all eyes on you and your comrades as Dustin’s the first to fumble with where the hell to go.

Steve runs against you when you hesitate, before pushing you before him. You run after Erica, hurrying down the steps and kicking yourself up to skip a few like you used to when you were a kid. When you see Steve stumble you reach and grab his hand, yanking him down some steps and just out of the grasp of one of the soldiers behind him.

“This way!” Steve yells when you’re stuck on the bridge by the machine. It’s almost deafening but you can still hear the panic in everyone’s voices. When you run ahead of him, just a step or two, he grabs your shoulders and pushes you behind him before he throws forward a tower of waste containers into the guards that were so close to coming for you.

He looks back, yelling “Come on! Come on!” And grabs your hand in one of his, the other urging everybody to pass by him.

You run into the nearest room, and you almost keep going for it until Steve’s shoes  squeak and the door pounds shut. You run and hold it with him, ear against the door, eyes on him and occasionally flickering to the others as they one by one begin to realize the situation you and Steve are in.

“Hnng—Robin!” You yell and she comes near, pushing against the door behind you. You head is nearly in Steve’s chest but with your eyes closed as you try with all your strength to keep the damn door closed you block out everything else that’s happening.

You don’t understand what she’s referring to when Erica yells “Here! Come on, let’s go!” And the creaking of the grate Dustin and her pick up isn’t a clear exit to you. You push harder, thinking the men on the other side are creaking open your door.

“Go! Just get out of here!” Steve shouts.

Dustin keeps yelling for you all to get out of there, but Steve insists. “No! Just go get some help, okay?!”

And then you open your eyes and you’re pushed away from the door, Steve nodding his head up at Dustin and Erica with his eyes nearly squeezed shut.

“Y/n! Go with them! Go get help!”

Of course you don’t just go. Dustin jumps down into the grate but holds onto the rim of the floor, looking from you to Steve to Robin. His breath is heavy, just as heavy as yours, but the pain and worry in your face (some would say betrayal) in your face is clearer on yours to Steve than on Dustin’s.

You’re pleading, essentially, hands held out cautiously as though you’re trying to ease your way back to helping Steve and Robin. But the look he gives to you is just as pitiful.

He mouths “Please,” with a strain. And just for him, you’re hurrying backward, refusing to take your eyes off him.

You ease in behind Dustin, kneeling and holding open the grate when he yells to them, “I won’t forget you!”

But even the sentiment won’t make them change their minds. They yell “GO!” In unison, Steve’s eyes jumping between you two.

And with a pain in your heart, you enter after Dustin, dropping down carefully and making sure the grate closes securely above you. At the first sound of it clang against the floor, metal on metal, there’s yelping from Robin and Steve as another clang comes from the door that’s forced open by the soldiers.

There’s guns cocking, unintelligible shouting, and the sound of the vent denting and jerking underneath your knees as you crawl.

“Why’s she so quiet?” Erica blurts amidst Dustin’s explanation of the events that have unfolded over the past three years. You’re sat in a tight ventilation system and not particularly at ease. You open your mouth to defend yourself, knowing full well nothing will come out, but she spares your voice on the verge of tears by interjecting Dustin’s story to go, “Wait, by “we” you’re including Lucas?”

“Yes, of course,” Dustin says.

“So all that shit you told me, Lucas was there? And her too?”

You roll your eyes and scoff softly as she points a thumb at you. You personally don’t see why that’d be so hard to understand, but you let it go.

Dustin’s face scrunches up and he eyes you. “Yeah.”

“My brother, Lucas Charles Sinclair?”

“Yes!” Dustin looks at you for backup. You can only shrug.

Erica clicks her tongue. “I don’t believe you.” And she eyes you.

“Wait, so you believe everything about El and the gate and the Demodogs and the Mind Flayer, but you question your brother’s involvement? And you question her involvement?” Dustin points past himself and over to you. You raise a hand and give a weak wave when Erica looks at you.

She looks you up and down before turning to Dustin and nodding. “That’s correct?”

“Well, why her? Why’s it so hard to believe when she’s been here the whole time?”

“Yeah!” You scoff, adjusting your position. Unfortunately for you, you’re a little larger than a 10 and 14 year old and have to sit with your legs crossed and neck bent forward to sit anywhere near comfortably. You rest your cheek on your hand and look down at your feet. “Steve explicitly said I was there when the whole ‘gate’ thing happened. Do you really expect me to be clueless about my little brother opening a portal to another dimension?” You nudge him, “He’s not exactly the most discrete person. Don’t know why suddenly trust him but not me.”

Erica leans back and looks at you. “It’s because you’re so damn lovesick I can’t believe you managed to not get killed.”

“Woah woah woah — what do you mean by lovesick?”

Erica hums and looks at Dustin. He…hesitates.

“Dustin. What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Erica starts, “that the only reason why you’re with us right now is because he’s been saving you from near-death since you’ve been so busy stuck looking at him.”

“Okay, who’s him?”

Dustin sighs and licks his lips for a moment, bouncing his head and humming to himself his answer. One glare from you and he mutters, “Steve,” as he rolls his eyes as though to add on the phrase ‘obviously.’

“Okay I am not—” you scoff and grunt, leaning past Dustin and snatching his screwdriver from him. He doesn’t bother, but he does budge, scooting back knowing full well if he doesn’t he’ll receive your scorn. You fiddle with the fan’s panel and he sits back where you once sat, and he and Erica continue their conversation. You continue with ��—in love,” under your breath, and all they do is spare a silent judging look.

“Um, you need help with that?” Erica asks.

And you scoff, “No,” your screwdriver incidentally slipping out of the secure place you’ve been working to get it lodged into.

She doubts you even more than before. “Well I mean it’s taking a while so—“

“Well obviously, Erica.”

She reels back and hisses. “Well geesh, didn’t think you’d get so pent up over your hubby.”

“H-hubby?” You grimace in disgust. “We’re not — that, okay? Whatever that is, that’s not us. So sorry for being scared for my friend. Suppose that means we’re dating, obviously.”

“I didn’t say you were dating. Just that you’ve got the hots.”

“Okay, ew! Can you shut up now?” Your hand slips again and you curse under your breath. You can practically sense Dustin sighing into his hand and it doesn’t help when Erica starts up again.

“All right, so if we don’t find a more efficient method to stop these fans then her,” you bite your tongue, literally and figuratively, “we’re never gonna find help, and your ice cream buddies are screwed.”

You tune her out by sheer force of will and continue to focus. You listen to the whirring of the blades instead of her and Dustin as their arguing develops into something a little more meaningful. It’s less in the realm of forcing your mind to visualize the horrific deaths of your friends, and more in the realm of ponies. It’s still not all that fun of a conversation to be listening to here and there, but you stop the fan.

And despite the torture she’s put your psyche through imagining all possible scenarios, you slide to the side as the fan’s electricity crackles and the blades come to a stop. You put them before you, letting them crawl through the still blades and follow after.

You can’t help but look behind you as you crawl.

And even later you feel an older-sibling, parental-like spirit in you when you push the kids up past a grate and up into a room featuring a hand little red vehicle and vials upon vials of mushy green goop — the same from earlier that burnt a hole through multiple stories.

You feel your heart rate pick up when you see Erica round a corner, but figuring your instincts are getting the better of you (and not wanting her to turn on you even more — say what you will about her age, her words still bite) you turn your back and let her wander on your own. When Dustin yells after her you wince knowing if there’s worry in his voice there’s something clearly wrong, and thinking of how much he’ll scold you if something happens to her and you come out about having seen her gone down a whole different hallway.

But then there’s a deafening zap and you turn to it and see her wielding a metallic rod with spurts of blue lightning coming out the tip of it.

“What the hell is that?!” Dustin leans back.

And Erica shrugs, “A deadly weapon. Could be useful.”

“O-kay!” You step in, snatching it from her and holding it somewhat close to your chest. “In anybody’s hands but yours.

“Thank you Y/n.” Dustin turns to Erica. “But for what?”

Her glare toward you softens and she looks at Dustin, smirking. “What do you think? Taking down Commies, saving your friends.” She looks at you. “Your boyfriend.” You groan. “And before you go on saying how he’s not your boyfriend — this isn’t about that. Do you want to save him or not?”

You bite your lip and tap your foot, looking at Dustin for the answers. Smart boy he is. And with a temper much more stable than yours.

“Thought you were more realistic than that, nerd. We don’t even know where they are, and even if we did there are a million guards up there —“

Erica rolls her eyes and walks off, but you follow, holding the weapon tight.

“Who have weapons way more deadly than this little one.”

Dustin holds a hand to you and nods. “The best thing we can do for them is to get out of here and find help.”

Dustin gets into the driver's seat and you get into the passenger one, ‘poor’ Erica getting squished between you. And it doesn’t help that in order to comfort yourself you’re leaning forward with your elbows on your knees and fingernails in your mouth.

You keep your eyes on the floor, but you feel Erica eye you, hoping you’ll back her up when Dustin explains how “Our chances of surviving, and theirs, rises substantially. Just trust me on this one?”

Dustin leans forward and catches your eyes. “Please?” He asks in a literal sense but the look on his face has him questioning his own decision. First you refuse to look either of them in the eye — the pressure of being the ‘adult’ in the group being much too heavy on you. You liked it better when there was Steve and Robin, and while Steve’s judgment hardly failed you, if one of yours did somebody else was able to come up with a decision just as big.

You sigh.

And looking back into Dustin’s eyes, you think (in a cheesy way), ‘What would Steve do?’

You sit up and look forward. Dustin sighs too and shrugs, putting the key in the ignition and squeezing tight on the wheel. His foot is hovering just over the gas when —

“Dustin, switch spots with me. Erica, go get some of those green things.”

He’s offended you’re second-guessing him but relieved you’re taking charge again.

You hold onto the top of the vehicle to aid yourself in getting out, and Dustin does too, stepping out and switching places with you.

Erica coos as she gets out of her seat. “Gonna go save your boyfriend?”

You huff and get situated at the wheel. “Ask Dustin how many times things have worked out any better when we’ve put the responsibility in somebody else’s hands.” Erica comes back with an armful and looks at him, and so do you. You give a sarcastic smile. “Have you found a number?”

Dustin shakes his head no and Erica gets in next to him, still cradling the green substances.

No, it has never worked out any better.

“Exactly.” You step on the gas.

The hallways are a lot more pleasing when you’re not walking for hours on end through them, and you go as fast as you can but manage to keep calm. Erica’s eyes are bugging, hoping to jumpstart a conversation between you or Dustin with the sheer look of questioning on her face. But just as you would any old car you keep a hand on the wheel, an elbow on your knee, and you pick at your lips to show you’re concentrating.

The plan?

You’ll (by some means) set off the alarm, and Erica and Dustin will sneak into the room with that colorful little tool (which sits unsafely between your closed legs, by the way, but never mind that) and use it if they have to.

Dustin’s never seen you so assertive. All those other years you were helpful, sure, but you followed orders, you didn’t give them.

Just back there Steve gave orders, you followed them. You’ve so often been lumped together with the kids, acting as a backup babysitter, an understudy for if anything went wrong — an understudy for if something happened to Steve.

When you come to your destination and park, you usher the kids out of the vehicle and keep them behind you while you scope the place out. You take the green stuff from Erica and hand the tool to Dustin. Then your plan starts.

It goes by in a blur summarized by your heart beating in your ears.

You kneel in a nearby hallway, unscrew all of the green vials, and wait for Dustin to assure you that he and Erica have found themselves a safe hiding space. Then you kick them forward and wince hearing the steel floors crackle and dissolve. You jump back, making sure none of it is on your shoe (that wouldn’t be good, would it?) Before running to hide with the two.

Some man (stereotypical evil Russian man) steps out of the room, and when you give the go-ahead that it’s clear enough, Erica and Dustin burst inside. You stay back, keeping an eye on the workers all huddled in the hallway where you spilled that goo. You hear Dustin’s jump in with a shout and the screaming of another man, the zapping sounds from the tool coming to your ears around the same time as smoke comes to your nose.

“Heeeey! Henderson!” Steve…slurs?

You step in after and smile softly at the side of his face…though beat up and bloody you’re glad to see him as okay as he is.

“That’s crazy, I was just talking about you.” You kneel down by Dustin and guide him out of the way. He’s having trouble with the belt straps around Steve’s feet so you get to work on those, not paying Steve any mind while Dustin and Erica go and work on the chest constraints with the main lock around Robin’s front.

“Oh heyyyy Sweetie. I was just talkin’ about you too!” You can’t help but blush.

“Get ready to run,” Dustin warns.

You help Steve up and grab his hand, running out of the room with him while Erica and Dustin guide Robin. You stay back for a moment, taking your hand from Steve and pushing him forward to make sure the huddle in the hallway isn’t any the wiser.

When you get back Dustin and Erica are pushing Robin and Steve into the back of the vehicle. And to not make things difficult you hop in with them considering Dustin’s already on his way to the driver’s seat.

Not the best decision you’ve made in a while since you huddle in your own corner watching them in fear you’ve seen this exact thing at one of Tina’s parties, and worrying because you really don’t need somebody to barf on you right now. Especially with the speed of the vehicle and Dustin’s wobbly driving.

“What is wrong with them?” Erica asks you through the wall.

“I don’t know!” Dustin yells.

As you pinch your nose you explain, “They’re obviously high on something—OW!” You cradle the back of your head when yours rams into the wall on account of Dustin crashing you guys into a tower of barrels.

You hear him wince. “You guys alright back there?”

“No,” you grit, and sit up ready to drag Robin and Steve out of the back. You grab Steve’s hands and try to pull him out but are unable to for the life of you. It might be easier if he wasn’t a drunk, incoherent, limp blob of flesh right now but you figured you’d give Dustin and Erica a head start in getting them out.

Dustin helps while he yells and Erica claps at them, and Steve falls against you, his back hunched and shoulders against yours. You wrap your arms around him to keep him held up and drag his limp self back to the elevator, Robin thankfully walking pretty well on her own.

Of course, things don’t get easier. Steve and Robin are ‘surfing’ while inside the elevator, and you keep alert for the exact moment that transpires. Steve falls forward, rolling on his side but laughing hysterically as he comes and rests his head against some boxes. You kneel beside him, lifting his head up and setting it in your lap while Dustin checks his temperature.

“He’s burning up,” Dustin gasps.

You close your eyes and wince hearing Steve whimpering “Ooowww,” as Dustin gets hold of his face and forces his eyes open.

“His pupils are super dilated.”

You hold Steve’s cheek and frown. “Probably drugged them or something…” Erica squints at you. “What? That’s what they do. Ever heard of ‘Truth serum?’”

She scoffs. “Yeah, in the movies.”

You lean forward, holding your hands over Steve’s ears. “Well Erica — you only hear of government experiment monsters in movies, but look where we are now.”

“I don’t think they weren’t drugged. I’m just sayin’ I doubt they call it ‘truth serum.’”

“Yeah, well, of course they don’t. This is a legitimate government organization, no shit they don’t call it truth serum.” You take your hands off Steve’s ears and instead gently pet his forehead. “Steve —“

“Oh there you are, sweetie!”

“Yeah, hi — “ you blush again but try as hard as you’re allowed to get the blood to stop flowing to your cheeks, “ — where’d you park the car?”

Of course, the Russians took his keys.

And of course, it doesn’t matter cause, of course, they’re waiting for you five at the elevator’s entrance.

And of course the movie theater would only have four available seats.

You promise Dustin you’ll be back soon, but have to make an even bigger case for Steve who keeps holding onto your wrist and whining, wondering “Where you goin’?” With his eyes half closed and a frown.

“I’m just gonna go scope the place out, okay? Okay?”

“Wait Y-Y/n!” Dustin’s met with a harsh SHHH from the lady behind him, and while he contemplates running after you, he forces himself to sit down and watch at least some of the movie.

You jog out of the theater and into the rest of the mall. It’s like the world’s spinning around you as you try to pinpoint any sign of suspicion, like a destination or something you can go to, to clear your head, but everything is just so out in the open. None of the stores are open, they’re all closed with those thick, grid-patterned bars…but it’s so quiet. It’s the first time you’ve experienced quiet in so long and you know this whole experience it might as well be nothing with how long it’s lasted…still, your heart aches knowing that this isn’t over. You’re not done with this, and this has a whole other level it’s going to go to. There are a whole ‘nother dozen pages of script and while you can relax now and cherish the fact that Steve and Robin and Dustin and Erica — that you’re all safe….it’s only for now.

You lean against a column just outside the movie theatre and close your eyes as you bang your head back against it again and again. Softly to avoid making any noise, but just enough to hurt.

And then you get up and walk away, hands deep in your pockets while you do as you told Dustin and ‘scope out the mall.’ It’s only a matter of time. You know this, you’ve been through this before, it’s only a matter of time before you’re not safe anymore.

So lost in your thoughts you don’t even notice Steve and Robin slipping out of the bathroom so carelessly. You’re already jogging down the escalator like regular stairs when they start fighting over who gets to use the water fountain, but the movie even from out here is still so loud you can’t hear their intoxicated babbling.

You’re scoping out the food court looking to see if there’s anything leftover that you can see from the seating area, and looking for good places you’ll hide behind if you need to when in the upstairs bathroom Steve and Robin start to play a game.

“Hit me,” Steve says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

And Robin runs her hand through her hair as she thinks to ask, “Have you….ever been in love?”

“Yep…Nancy Wheeler…and uh, Y/n.”

Robin hums, slightly impressed. “Y/n Y/n? Our, Y/n?”

“Mhmmm…Nance — first semester, senior year.” He intimidates a gunshot and chuckles painfully. “Y/n…I don’t know what happened.”

“Did anything ever happen?”

Steve taps his fingers on the toilet bowl. “No…no, only with me and Nancy.”

“Are you…still in love, with Nancy?”

After a moment, Steve shakes his head. He bites his lip before wincing at the pain it brings his jaw, and he sighs and goes back to letting his mouth hang slightly open. “No…no.”

“Why not?” Robin cocks her head.

“Because I have someone who’s a little bit better for me…”

“Is it Y/n?”

Steve goes quiet. At first, he shakes his head to himself, before nodding faintly. Though Robin, on the other side of the stall can only wonder the reason for his silence. She inhales to speak but Steve starts up again.

He holds his hand to his head to steady it and mumbles into his palm. “Ever since Dustin got home, he’s been saying, y’know, ‘You can’t let go of your Suzie, you can’t let go of your Suzie,’ calling me out for trying to get with other girls, basically just yelling at me for not making a move yet and—“

“Wait,” Robin sits up, “Who’s Suzie?”

��It’s some girl from camp, I guess his girlfriend…To be honest with you I’m not even 100% sure she’s even real,” he chuckles, “but that’s not—that’s not really the point. That doesn’t matter. The point is, Y-….this girl…you know, that I like…she’s somebody that I…only ever paid attention to outside of high school. I don’t even know why. I knew who she was, I knew what she was like…I liked it…she was there for me when-when Nance and me — it-it’s doesn’t matter. I guess cause Tommy H. Would have made fun of me or something or she wouldn’t have wanted to be seen with me. I could have reminded her of everything, y’know, that we went through outside of school. Hell, it could have been because I would be Prom King! It’s stupid. I mean, Dustin’s right, it’s all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because when I think about it I should’ve been hanging out with this girl the whole time. And I mean, she’s so sweet, and she cares about me, and this summer never have I grasped ‘conflict resolution’ so hard and felt so genuinely cared for in a really long time. And she’s smart, way smarter than me…And we just, we work really well together and everything. And y’know, on the outside you wouldn’t think it I suppose, but she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before.”

Robin hasn’t interjected once.

In her stall, she’s been smiling…so, so wide…she understands every word he’s saying…But after a while, her smile twitches into a pitiful frown, and she’s burying her head in her arms and keeping her lips pressed tight together.

“Robin, did you just OD in there?”

“No…” She sits up and leans back against the tiled wall. “I,” she takes a breath, “am still alive.”

Steve’s brows twitch. After a thought he slides under the stall and sides across from her, both of their feet up against each other’s body.

“What do you think?” He asks.

“About?”

“This girl…”

“She sounds awesome—“

“She is awesome.” Robin bites her lip. She knows. “And what about the guy?”

She feels a bit of an ache in her heart but she says it. “I think he’s on drugs, and he’s not thinking straight. I think he is…” She throws her head back against the wall and smiles a bit, “incredibly dumb for not taking his chances, and for wasting his time talking about this girl, instead of talking to her.”

“No. I think he,” he scoffs, “for once is thinking straight…leaving her alone…” He starts running his finger in circles around his knee. But his bit of bliss is sidetracked when Robin chokes out —

“No. He’s not. He has no idea how this girl feels about him. And if he did like-like really know how she felt about him…I think he would have been a lot happier a long time ago.”

His mind can’t figure out a direction to go in. Would he be happier cause he’d be with her? Or happier being over her?

“That’s not true,” he insists, “no way is that true.”

“Listen, to me, Steve.” Robin takes a deep breath and closes her eyes while facing the ceiling. “Do you remember what I said about Click’s class? About me being jealous and like, obsessed?” Steve nods softly. “It isn’t because I had a crush on you. It’s because…” She looks at him and stares him deep in the eyes. “It’s because she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

Steve shakes his head. “Mrs. Click?”

Robin chuckles. “Y/n. Y/n Henderson. I wanted her to look at me. But…she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair. And I didn’t understand cause you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor. And you asked dumb questions, and you were a douchebag. And — and you didn’t even like her, and I would go home and-and just scream, into my pillow.”

“But, Y/n’s a girl…”

“Steve…”

“Yeah?” Robin forces a smile, her lips, and cheeks pink. “Oh…”

Her smile twitches, but she keeps it up. She sniffles and rubs her nose along her shoulder, down into her sleeve as she hugs herself softly. And Steve leans back, lips parted as he leans back against the stall’s wall.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah…holy shit.” Steve squeezes his kneecaps, running his hands up and down his legs as he thinks. Robin cracks a smile. “Steve? Did you OD over there?”

“No, I just uh….just thinking.”

“Okay,” She says, playing with her earing.

“I mean yeah.” Steve shrugs. “Y/n, she’s…she’s cute. And she’s nice, and she cares—she cares about you. And, and I’m not completely sure about thinks y’know we, we haven’t really talked about that, or anything but…” he smiles at Robin. “You should go for it. If-if things work out, y’know, I’d think she’d really like you…”

Robin chuckles, exasperated and puts her head against the wall again. She rolls it around, rocking herself side to side as her old memories of douchebag ‘King Steve’ get replaced more and more with this new one she wishes she’d known all her life.

“I mean, can you imagine that?! You two would look great together — intimidating as shit, psh, probably attracting more girls to the store than I ever could with my—“ he scoffs and flicks at his hair, “stupid hat and glowing hair.”

“She likes you, Steve.”

“Okay, well,” he shrugs, “I like you so I don’t see why she wouldn’t.”

She sits up with her arms around her knees and slaps Steve in the side. He winces and holds the spot but continues, going on about how awesome you and her would be together. She can see the little bit of rejection in his face but she can’t help but laugh knowing it’s completely baseless! While she hasn’t felt too much since working with you, settling in nicely to being your dear friend, just remembering the power of her emotions back then and how positively Steve’s reacting to them warms her heart. She knows with him practically being her wingman she’ll be just fine, even if you’re at his side.

“Steve! She likes you, trust me!”

Steve scoffs and hits his head on the wall. “Eh, I — eh, I’m fine.”

“Steve! Don’t make me lock you two in a damn room!” Robin starts swatting at him again and he recoils, hugging himself and leaning halfway out of the stall.

“Hey, hey, I’m just trying to be a good friend!”

“So, be a good friend and date her already!”

Steve’s pinching his nose and laughing hysterically at the thought. Happy laughter and nervous laughter. Robin’s laughing, completely dumbfounded by the turn of events and hysterical at this goof being in such doubt compared to his younger self.

And then the door to the bathroom swings open, Dustin and Erica waltzing in with scorn on their faces and absolute disbelief at what they think still happens to be a high Steve and Robin.

“Okay. What the hell?!”  

Their laughter stops, though Robin can’t help but hiccup.

“Heh, wh-where’s Y/n?” Steve asks. He’s playful about it at first before his sobriety shines through and he’s preparing to stand, worried eyes darting around for you.

“Well we don’t know cause we were too busy looking for you two!”

Steve gulps. “Fuck. Fuck.” And stands up, grabbing Robin’s hand and helping her before attempting to charge out of the bathroom. But Dustin stops him, grabbing his arm and pulling with all his weight. It doesn’t take much before Steve intentionally stops but Dustin’s quick with his explanation.

“She’s out there but we need to wait and go with the crowd in case the,” he looks around and lowers his voice, “in case the Russians are out there.”

Steve’s gripping his hair, beginning to pace around the bathroom. “You just let her leave? Why wasn’t she in the theater with you two?”

Erica scoffs. “Why weren’t you in the theater with us?”

Steve bites his lip and kicks at the wall.

He waits with his ear against the door for the movie to end, and when Dustin says “Blend” at the visual of people walking out of the theater and the sound of laughter, Steve speed-walks right out of there. He looks back to make sure the kids and Robin are near, but can’t stop raising his neck to look for you over the crowd.

You made your way back upstairs via some of the shut-down escalators, just in time to spot not Steve, Robin, Dustin, or Erica, but the black-clad Russian soldiers checking the bags and purses of people coming out of the theater.

With a heavy heart, you walk away from the scene, looking over your shoulder and trying to spot any of them but remaining unable to find even that obnoxious Scoops Ahoy uniform.

You pick up the pace when you see the soldiers begin to move, spreading out and covering more of the available exits. You turn to look forward just as you run into a body. For starts not as thick as the soldiers you’ve come across, and not as slick as their uniforms, but you freak out regardless, unable to scream but forcing your eyes shut momentarily as their hands grip your wrists and keep you standing.

“Y/n?!”

It’s Jonathan.

You’re not entirely relieved, but incredibly confused. You jerk away from him as you see Nancy and the others halt in their steps just as they were approaching.

“What-what are you doing here?” Jonathan looks back and lets go of you when he sees Nancy coming.

She takes a shuddery breath and hugs you tight, arms coming from under your own and her fingers brushing the back of your neck.

“What are you doing here?!”

“What are you doing here?” You scoff. She takes no offense and Jonathan doesn’t either, seeing the uh…streaks and scuffs and bruises all of you — the dirt on your hoodie, even the burnt off bits of your hoodie. You don’t notice it until Jonathan does, and you frankly look quite terrified as you pick at it and realize some of that goop was this close to actually touching you.

“Is that Eleven?” You see her between Max and Mike, and then you see Lucas and Will.

Mike steps forward, his chin to his chest. “Are you here with Dustin?”

“Wh—“

Nancy and Jonathan both perk up. “What about Steve?”

You look over your shoulder, and there…there they are, trying to push through the crowd but freezing (like a bunch of buffoons you’d say especially considering everything you’ve been through) before they break through it, running. The commotion isn’t much among all of the movie-goers still leaving. But you see the Russian soldiers spread out. You grab Jonathan’s sleeve and drag him, hopping in your spot at first before bolting. You only manage a faint, choking, and raspy “C’mon.”

Some of them are hesitant at first but follow.

When you find a safe enough corner where there’s some couches set up to sit and plenty of columns and decorative floral pieces to hide behind.

You kneel behind a coffee table, one hand against the ground to aid you in getting up if needed.

“Y/n, what’s going on?” Jonathan steps forward, his arms crossed.

You take a deep breath and try to keep your breathing steady after that. “You guys need to get out of here.”

Mike scoffs. “What are you even doing here?”

“And where’s Dustin?” Will asks.

You roll your eyes. “They’re here, but—“

“Who’s they?”

“Me, Dustin, Steve, uh, Robin — Erica.”

“Erica? My Erica, my little sister Erica Sinclair?”

“My GOD can you just shut up for a second?” Most of them jump in some way. “I’m trying to get to the points you’re asking about but I can’t get to them if I have to answer you directly!” You stamp your foot against the ground and look off, clenching your jaw and blinking rapidly to keep any tears from coming. “You need to get out of here because there is Russian military in the mall, okay?”

“How do you—“ You can’t even register who it’s coming from.

“Because we broke into a room hidden as a storage closet but it was really just an elevator that took us to their lab underground! We just barely got out, they drugged Steve and Robin — Robin’s uh, he-they work together,” Nancy slowly lowers her hair, “Tortured Steve or some shit—“

“Tortured?” Jonathan sputters. He immediately looks apologetic for interrupting.

“Yes! Okay, they’re-they’re building this thing underneath the mall and now they know me and them exist and they chased us in here but they were hiding in the theater and now those guys, you see those guys?” You point, “In the black, checking purses? Yeah, those are Russian military men. Okay? And I just saw Steve, Dustin, Erica, Robin — I just saw all of them making a break for it which probably means they’re looking for me too, so you all need to get the hell out of here and —“

You stop, hearing your voice echo in the now empty mall. You didn’t think the mall would clear out so fast but it’s almost completely quiet. You weren’t that loud to begin with but the fire in your veins deafened you to only what you were saying.

You face drops and you stand up, scuffing your knees against the carpet but ignoring the mild sting and going to the railing. You look over, seeing the men dressed just the same with guns in their grasp. And ahead of them, you see your crew huddled behind a counter in the food court.

You choke, seeing Dustin and Steve sat together and able to tell from this far away how scared shitless they are — eyes probably closed shut, their bodies definitely shaking.

Just when Jonathan reaches you, you run from him. He trips and barely catches himself trying to make up for his lost catch, but the sudden pressure on the floor prompts some of the guys to point their guns to the second floor. Jonathan’s out of sight by then but you running gets all of their attention.

One of them yells at the other and they start shooting, your hunched stature as you hurry keeping you safe for the most part, the other part being the columns.

In a lapse of judgment Dustin and Steve look up from their hiding places. Steve’s eyes go wide at first you, then the sight of all the Russian standing almost in a cluster shooting at you as you run. You stop for just a moment, just a second, catching eyes with Steve. The pure fear and horror in your eyes breaks him, and the fear and horror in his eyes breaks you.

He curses at you to run for it….and you do, still trying to look for a way down there.

Your near parental protection over your brother Dustin got the better of you.

But just when you think to hesitate and check on them again, the car on the bottom floor of the mall starts rattling. It rattles and gunfire stops as attention goes on the car. You sneak back around to the escalators, hide behind a pillar and looking forward to see Eleven with her arm raised and blood dripping out of her nose. She concentrates, catching eyes with you for a second, then seeming to look at Dustin, though he’s a bit clueless to her presence.

And then the horns start honking, so obnoxiously as the sound ricochets through the mall.

She pushes her hand forward with a grunt…and the car screeches forward, rolling across the ground and crushing all of the guys one by one.

You don’t wait till it’s without a doubt safe. You hold onto the sides of the escalator to lift yourself and you swing over the rope-barrier, then skip down the steps and hop over the next one.

You run to the court where Erica and Robin are just beginning to stand, and without any hesitation, you lean over and hug your brother so damn tight he’d swear he couldn’t breathe. You squeeze him, swaying as best as you can over the counter. Then you lean back and hold his cheeks.

He’s shocked by the tears in your eyes and elated smile on your lips.

“Oh my god,” you breath, “why would you leave, you’re so stupid!” You kiss the top of his head.

“Why would I leave? You left too!”

You cackle and hook your chin over his shoulder. “Why do we keep getting into things? We’re both so stupid!”

You let him free to walk around. And there’s Steve, staring at you. His hands are pressed to the counter and he’s completely breathless. The exchange is quiet..awkward…but together you get this burst of energy and run around to meet each other. You hug him so tight with your arms going around his neck, and he’s too slow to do the same so he’s left a bit shocked with his arms limp at his side. Cautiously he wraps them around your waist, dropping his forehead to your neck.

Robin tries to pass and follow after Dustin and Erica, but you let one arm leave Steve to beckon her into the hug. She points to herself curiously and you nod, grabbing her before she has a chance to respond again and pulling her into a group hug.

She’s scared to at first but wraps an arm around your back.

With your head dipped down and looking at your shoes, Robin gives Steve a look. Then she leaves the hug, rubbing your back to assure you of good things and leaving you and Steve alone. He steps away from you too but only to hug you again, his hands on your shoulders and gripping them for a moment before he pulls you into his chest.

He grimaces and tries pulling away remembering the potential for vomit (thankfully for you there is none on his upper half) but you couldn’t care less. You hug him tighter and he has to grab your hands and pull them apart so he can put some distance between you two.

“Y/n — Y/n.”

“Steve,” you mock, “Steve.”

He gulps and between yourselves, he sways your hands a bit.

“Oh my god,” he chuckles, voice high, almost not like himself. “That was I think the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced.” He sniffles and looks at your hands.

“Really? What happened to getting tortured by the Russian government just a few hours ago?” You cup his cheek and hover your thumb over his swollen eye.

He forces a smile. “Well, that was —“ he rolls his eyes, “—bad, and I was basically drunk, so—“

“Ah,” you smile wide, “is that why you kept calling me sweetie?”

“Wait…I did?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Well shit.”

“It’s okay.” You stroke his cheek some more and tuck hair behind his ear. “It was cute, Harrington.”

“Har har.” Had everybody else not been reuniting with each other right now, it would be incredibly awkward for them to watch as you just stare at each other. He puts his arms around your waist again and his hands rest right against the small of your back. And you’re blissfully content just stroking his hair. “No I-I know I just got like, tortured earlier but…everything else that’s happened to us, everything else that’s saved us…Y/n you know that was just coincidence. And then there you came in just as I thought we were all about to be gunned down, only for you to almost be gunned down, and then — “ he’s rambling like he’s telling any other story and God is it adorable “ — they’re shooting and Jesus Y/n I swear I had a heart attack.” He holds his hand to his chest. “Ouch.”

“Well I-I had to distract them somehow.”

“By attracting the attention of five guys with high-speed bullets?”

You sputter, “Y-eaahh?”

Steve cackles. “You can be so stupid, I love you.”

Your smile drops. “What?”

“You heard me.” He shrugs. “I…love you? And I figure that since we’ve made it to intermission, we might as well make one of those like, ‘If we’re not both married by 30 we’ll get married’ pacts only like, it starts now.” He rolls his eyes at himself, hair bouncing as he tilts his head to the side. “Well, more like, after, this final boss fight cause you know there’s gonna be a boss fight, right?”

You hum and nod.

“See? So…wanna…maybe do that with me?”

You bite your lip. “Steve, I don’t want to do this if you’re just doing it to do this���If you’re scared and so desperate that we’ll just be thrown back into this again and like, there won’t be enough time for you to find somebody you actually want to date so you’re trying to date me—“

“No no no, not at all Y/n.” He cocks his head. “Y’know, just took me seeing you almost die 15 times in the last 24 hours and then me and Dustin and Robin and Erica almost dying 15 times in the last few hours to realize how disgustingly miserable I’d be without you and how quick I was to jump to finding someone like you when you were gone at camp for a month…”

“Really?”

“Really. I’m just,” he clicks his tongue and looks over your head, “not gonna deny the fact that I love you anymore.” He looks you in the eyes. “Not again…”

You hold his face with both hands and mutter a quiet “Sorry” when he winces. But he nods to assure you he’s okay before holding a hand over yours.

“Deals on, Harrington.”

“Do we kiss now?” You wondered that too, especially with all the…swollenness and the blood….he didn’t get a chance to brush his teeth either but he did rinse his mouth out with a lot of water while waiting in the bathroom.

You scrunch your nose at the question seeing how it so starkly broke the mood, but after a moment, “Yeah yeah, I think we do.”

And so, you do.

[flowerfan2]

One Night in Milwaukee - Ch. 5

I’m considering changing the title to “One Night in Milwaukee (and a week in Florida)...”  Enjoy and please reblog!

David x Patrick, 15k so far, A03

Chapter 5

David takes his time showering and doing his hair.  He had thought that his run would center him, but all it took was one quick conversation with Patrick to knock him off balance.  

He wishes he could put his own clothes back on, but since everything he brought with him is either in the wash or soaked in sweat, it’s not an option.  Tying a towel around his waist, he goes into the bedroom and looks through Patrick’s suitcase.  He allows himself a satisfying eye roll at the contents – the expected button-downs in shades of blue and green, jeans that probably won’t even fit David, and a few plain t-shirts and pairs of khaki shorts.  David sighs and selects briefs, shorts, and an olive green t-shirt, a nondescript fashion choice that would make his mother weep.  At least he’ll only have to wear them for an hour or so until his own clothes come out of the dryer.

He finds Patrick in the kitchen, hovering next to the island.

“I made eggs,” Patrick says, sliding a plate towards him.

“Thanks.”  The eggs are just like David likes them, with a sprinkle of salt and pepper, and a piece of toast on the side.  David recognizes the wheat bread he bought yesterday on his trip to the grocery store, somewhat bland but decent enough given the heaping of butter Patrick has spread on it.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, until the stress of it is too much for David to take.

“These are good.”

“It’s just scrambled, we didn’t have any cheese-”

“I can go to the store again, I didn’t know what you’d want-”

“You don’t have to do that,” Patrick says.  “You didn’t have to go in the first place.”

“So I shouldn’t have?”

“No, no, it was great that you did…” Patrick catches David’s gaze, and they both sigh.  “Why is this so awkward?” Patrick asks, taking their now empty plates and putting them in the sink.

“I don’t know, maybe because it’s been a long time, and things are different, and we both want everything to work out?  But there’s no guarantee.” David stands up and waves his hands at the neat little kitchen and the safe tan sofa with its blue and white pillows and the “Home Sweet Home” sign on the wall with an outline of the state of Florida.  He’s not sure he’s ever felt so out of place.  “And this is not somewhere I ever expected to be, and I really don’t know what to do with it.”

Patrick nods, that sadness coming over his face again, and it makes David want to strangle someone.  Not Patrick, never Patrick.  But whoever was responsible for taking his good, decent button and making him sad.

<i>It was you, you asshole,</i> his unhelpful brain tells him, and isn’t that just the worst.

“Want to see the pool?” Patrick asks, and although David can see it perfectly well from here, he figures it can’t hurt.  At least the screens will keep the alligators away.

They go outside, and the warmth of the sunshine surprises David. It’s gotten hotter even in the past hour since he was outside.  It may be late November, but this part of the world hasn’t gotten the message.  He wanders over to the pool and dips his toes in, then sits down by the steps in the shallow end and puts his feet in the water.

Patrick comes over and lowers himself to the concrete, David reaching out automatically to give him something to brace himself against.  When Patrick starts to put his feet in David stops him with a hand to his ankle, carefully rolling up one leg of his jeans and then the other.  David’s knuckles brush against the wiry hairs on Patrick’s leg as he neatly cuffs each pant leg.  He wants to roll Patrick’s shirt sleeves up, too, reveal more of his lovely forearms, but it seems a step too far.

“Thanks.”

“Wet jeans are an abomination,” David comments.

“Kind of like you wearing my khaki shorts?”  Patrick’s mouth quirks up in an attempt at a smile, and David’s heart lifts.

“Nice.  Just a few minutes again you said I looked good.”

The hint of a smile disappears, as David’s words fail to land the way he meant.  “I’m sorry, David, am I supposed to apologize for that?  I don’t understand why it upset you.  You do look good.  Clearly you’ve been working out – aren’t you allowed to be pleased with the outcome?”

David squeezes his eyes closed and leans his head back.  “Yes?  But…” He’s not sure how to explain it.  “It’s not about vanity, or, appearance.  I know that probably sounds fake, coming from me,” he opens his eyes and looks at Patrick, who is gazing back as patient and open as ever, “but it’s true.”

“Okay,” Patrick says, clearly waiting for David to fill in the blanks.  David had hoped a discussion about this particular part of his recent history could have been put off, possibly indefinitely, but it’s feeling like one of those moments when he’ll regret it if he brushes it off again.  And maybe opening up will get Patrick to do the same.

“I was pretty depressed, after we broke up,” David says, running the tips of his fingers through the water, watching the ripples spread across the surface of the pool.  “Couldn’t get out of bed, lost interest in everything… you know how it goes.”  He’s not sure Patrick does, but he can’t help but try to make light of it, as awful as it was.  It’s hard to really focus on those months, the drag of gray haze that wouldn’t clear.  “Eventually I started seeing a therapist.”

“You mentioned that,” Patrick says, and David relaxes a fraction, because he had forgotten.  Maybe this won’t be that hard, then.  It hasn’t chased Patrick away yet.  

“Right.  Well, he recommended a bunch of stuff to try, including exercising regularly, and I resisted at first-”

“Obviously,” Patrick says.

David glares up at Patrick, who’s got his best trolling face on, deliciously familiar, and suddenly spilling his guts doesn’t seem so embarrassing anymore.  “Anyway, once I started, it wasn’t so bad.  Despite what I once told you about running… it worked for me.”  That and laying off the alcohol.

“That’s great, David.”

“Well, Alexis says I just replaced one obsession with another.”

“Is that so bad, when it’s a healthy one?”

“You didn’t have to put up with me when I couldn’t go out for a run because of crappy weather, or inconveniently scheduled vendor meetings.”

There’s a hitch in the rhythm of their banter, and Patrick takes David’s hand in his.  “I wish I did.  I wish I was there.”

David feels his chest tighten, and he gives Patrick’s hand a squeeze.  “Me too.”

They sit there with their feet in the water, like little kids in a backyard wading pool.  There’s no breeze to speak of, but it’s not completely quiet.  The sound of the highway a few streets away provides a bit of background noise, and a weird bird keeps making a strangled chirpy sound from a hedge on the side of the house.  

David’s past encounters with Florida involved multi-million-dollar yachts, tanned supermodels, and free-flowing booze and drugs, not this strange version of suburbia.  He imagines this house sitting empty for most of the year, waiting for its owners to come and visit.  How many of the cookie cutter three-bedrooms in this neighborhood are empty right now?  How many swimming pools are noticed only by the staff who come by weekly to clean them and make sure nothing has crawled into the filters and died?

“This water’s probably terrible for your skin,” David says, and Patrick looks at him in mild confusion.  “Because of all the chemicals.”  

Patrick shrugs.  “I guess.”

“There are chemicals in here, right?”

“I don’t know, which would upset you more – the amount of chlorine dumped in here or the water being left in its natural state?”

David pulls his feet out of the water and stretches his legs to the side, the concrete warm on his heels.   “I’m honestly not sure.  But maybe we shouldn’t take any chances.”

Patrick stands up, leaning hard on David’s shoulder as he goes.  “Wait here.  I’ll be right back.”

David stays put, although now that he’s thinking about what might be in the pool water he wouldn’t mind rinsing off and applying some lotion.  Or some hand sanitizer.

Patrick comes back out of the house with an armload of cushions and drops them onto the lounge chairs by the other end of the pool.  “Come help me set these up.”

It only takes a moment to unfold the brightly patterned cushions and tie them into place (ah, there’s the Hawaiian floral, David thinks to himself).  While David is arranging the loungers to his liking, facing the sun, Patrick comes back with two bottles of water.  David twists off the top and rinses his feet while Patrick squawks at him.

“What?  Was that not what this was for?”  He tries not to smile.

“David.  That water was to drink.  There’s an outdoor shower over there.”  Patrick points to the side of the house, then seems to regret his decision.  “But don’t walk out there without shoes, okay?”

“What, will the baby alligators nip at my toes?”

Patrick grins at him.  “No, but the fire ants will.”

“What the hell kind of place is this?”

“It’s just nature, David.  As long as you wear shoes in the grass, you’ll be fine.”

“I feel like the state of Florida must have had some really good marketing professionals along the way.  Alexis should get a job with them.  They’ve managed to convince people that this pest-ridden swampland is worth something.”

“Arguably that is kind of what happened.  You know Disney World was built on reclaimed swampland, right?”

“I did not know that.”

“Anyway, this neighborhood isn’t all there is.  Give me another day to rest up, then I’ll show you around.”

Another day to rest isn’t really going to cut it, David thinks, watching Patrick wince as he eases himself down in the chair.  He wonders again what Patrick had in mind when he made his escape to the sunshine state, which brings them right back to the conversation Patrick keeps avoiding.

“Patrick, how long, exactly, are you planning on staying here?”  David asks, hoping that the direct approach might actually get him an answer.

Patrick stares up at the sky.  “I don’t know.”

Patrick’s hair looks like polished copper in the sunlight, but David tries not to let it distract him.  “How much time can you take off from work?” David presses.  “Or are you working remotely doing… whatever you are doing now?”

Patrick takes a long gulp from his water bottle, then stares at his feet.  “I’m unemployed.  I lost my job about a month ago,” he says bitterly.

“Oh.”  David is surprised, to say the least, especially by Patrick’s tone.  He’s always seemed like he would be the ideal employee, eager to please and determinedly hardworking.  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah.  Well, after you piss off a major customer, it’s hard to convince your employer to retain you.”

“It can’t have been that bad.  I don’t think I can imagine you pissing off a customer.”

“It was, and I did.”

“What on earth did you do?”

“Do you really want to know?”

David sits up and squints at Patrick, no longer enjoying the sun on his face. He doesn’t even have sunglasses with him, a major miscalculation. “Yes, of course.”

Patrick leans back and closes his eyes.  “I was working as an account manager at a software company.  It was boring as hell.  Sales, mostly, skating by with just enough technical knowledge about the product to capture the customer’s interest, and then serving as the liaison between the customer and the tech guys who actually knew what they were doing.  But I kept screwing things up, and when the customers would want to know why the contract didn’t have the terms they wanted, or why I was taking so long to get back to them, I just didn’t have the patience to deal with it.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

Patrick opens his eyes and looks at David, and he looks almost as bewildered as David is.  “No, it doesn’t, does it?”

David has the feeling there’s more to this story, but Patrick doesn’t elaborate, and all David really wants to do is give him a hug.

“You know, I have a feeling you don’t have an ounce of sunscreen on.  You’re going to be bright red if we stay out here any longer.”  David stands up and holds out a hand to Patrick, then slides his arm around his back to pull him up.  When they’re both upright, he loops his arms around Patrick’s neck and pulls him close.

Patrick presses his face against David’s neck.  “I’m a mess, David,” he says, his breath hot on David’s skin.  “I don’t know what happened to me.”

“I think we’ve both been a little lost,” David says, holding Patrick tight.  “But I know what will fix it.”

“Yeah?”  There’s an almost pathetically hopeful note in Patrick’s voice.

“Absolutely.”

“What?”

“Running.  Miles of it.  Every day.  It’s a miracle drug.”  David is struggling to keep up his serious tone, and not quite succeeding.

Patrick chokes out a laugh, pressing a hand against his ribs.  “I don’t think I’m quite up for running yet.”

“Well fine, then, you’ll just have to watch me do it.  It’s almost as good.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Patrick says, and kisses David soundly.  David hesitates for a second and then enthusiastically participates, and they are both breathing heavily by the time they pull apart.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what brought that on?” David asks as they go inside, the shade welcome after the bright sunshine.  He keeps a hand on Patrick as they go, not so much to make sure he doesn’t fall over but because he doesn’t want to lose this connection, now that he’s found it again.

Patrick takes hold of David’s waist, his eyes on David’s brighter than they’ve looked in days.  “You.  I thought I was dreaming, sometimes, remembering how much I liked you – loved you, too, but just fucking liked you.  But I wasn’t.”

“I’m the best,” David says, half-joking, but there’s a familiar happiness bursting inside his chest.

“You are, David.  You really are.”

[millennialdemon]

Coming off of true trainwrecks the likes of Mars of Destruction and Skelter Heaven, I actually came out of Dark Cat with a sense of respect and gratitude for its competence. 

For the uninitiated, Dark Cat is a notoriously bad OVA from 1991 that you will see listed in many Worst Anime Ever countdowns. It follows 2 brothers, “dark cats” Hyoi and Rui, who investigate supernatural happenings and purify evil with their somewhat undefined powers of shapeshifting and increased strength/agility. The majority of the story in the OVA is about a school girl named Aimi, who is pining after her childhood friend Koizumi, who since the rejection and sudden death of his crush, has been suffering a depressive episode and ignoring her. Hyoi and Rui sense dark forces are manifesting at the school, and they keep an eye on Aimi while fighting off the increasingly brazen appearances of demonic enemies.

A monstrous ex-dark cat named Jukokubo is revealed to be manipulating Aimi with his dark powers, and Hyoi and Rui fight him, but not before Aimi succumbs to the evil magic -- as well as her own violent jealousy and overprotectiveness of Koizumi -- and transforms into a horrific tentacle monster that kills seemingly everyone in the school.

In the end, Koizumi realizes that Aimi was in love with him the entire time, and doesn’t fight her when she engulfs him completely. Apparently this act of selfless love was enough to purify them both, and although they do indeed die, their souls are “light” and able to ascend. This throws a wrench in Jukokubo’s plan to prove that humans are The Worst, so he turns tail and leaves his boss fight against Hyoi, threatening to return again. In the epilogue, Hyoi and Rui reflect on the mission and wax poetic about the nature of humanity while crossing a busy street.

… Ehm… happy ending, yes?

Now then: there are actually quite a few things I enjoyed about Dark Cat, and they are all very simple things that I had come to miss after days of watching other entries from the Bottom of the Barrel.

It had a narrative, and was -- mostly -- comprehensible in its storytelling, as rushed as it may have been. There was an undeniable presence of an art director, something I’m not convinced was present in a few of the other similarly rated titles I have seen. Some of the shots were noticeably well composed and even clever, and required an artistic vision and some decent effort to create. The animation wasn’t awful, the designs ranged from serviceable to genuinely charming (I like the subtlety of Hyoi and Rui’s cat-like features!), and I liked that the characters actually emoted. It wasn’t as generic as I expected and took some risks, even if they didn’t pay off and left it with a reputation of being “too grotesque to be enjoyable”.

I can understand the common criticisms of the gore and body horror being poorly animated, but I won’t decry it for existing and “being ugly”... of course it’s ugly, it’s body horror reminiscent of The Thing from The Thing. (Now would be a good time to warn people not to look this OVA up, unless they are sure they are okay with body horror and gore of this calibre. Tentacles with teeth and spines rip out of people’s skin from the inside and deform their hosts, it is quite awful! I would also include a warning for trypophobia -- there are shots where the mutations form clusters of holes on the skin.) The body horror in Dark Cat being disgusting and making my skin crawl isn’t a fault -- I think it’s the intended purpose. Though I will concede that:

The phallic imagery of the horrific flesh mutations, particularly that of the teacher who attacked Rui, was… bizarre, considering that otherwise the OVA isn’t particularly dark in tone or otherwise sexually graphic.

Perhaps having grotesque body horror is completely unexpected in a story about two bishounen teens (?) who can turn into cats and fight ghosts. 

Yes, Dark Cat, the OVA put on Worst Anime Ever lists for being a grotesque spectacle, is just as commonly placed on those lists for being a dumb anime about guys that can transform into house cats and who fight supernatural entities with not so amazing powers. This is a gripe I’ve seen in a few popular reviews, but there was no point during my watching experience that I thought, “Man, these teens are pansies, they don’t even turn into big scary lions or anything! What’s the point, it’s practically a power-down! cinemasins ding” because I don’t go into anime expecting every single male character I see to be Big & Strong & Cool, because I uh… don’t have brain worms I guess? I don’t know what to say about this criticism really, other than people who watch a lot of shounen have very strange hang ups about super powers. 

Otherwise, it seems the biggest reason Dark Cat is lauded as One of the Worst -- perhaps even ahead of the silly concept and nauseating gore -- is actually because of the abysmal english dub. It’s my honour to say that I didn’t watch the dub, so it doesn’t factor in at all into my impressions! 

So in the end, perhaps my only true gripes with Dark Cat are:

Despite having no particular issue with body horror and gore existing, the extent of destruction and graphic death gave the OVA a bit of a snuff film vibe.

The conclusion to the story was quite bad. 

It could be surmised by the brief plot outline I wrote earlier that Dark Cat isn’t a very complicated story. Demons and ghosts exist and wreak havoc on emotionally vulnerable humans, and supernatural soldiers try to mediate between the realms by purifying tortured ghosts and saving those dragged into darkness by evil entities. These beats are common in the supernatural genre of anime, but Dark Cat’s handling of its tragic morality tale left me more confused than anything.

Koizumi didn’t do anything wrong -- he shouldn’t have had to die for the sin of not reciprocating Aimi’s feelings, nor for developing depression after the rejection and death of his classmate and crush. Aimi… did things wrong, but was nevertheless the most compelling character in the OVA. Throughout Aimi was kind, patient, and forgiving when it came to being treated badly by Koizumi. In the finale however, it is revealed that Aimi was the one responsible for Koizumi’s crush’s death, assumedly having murdered her out of jealousy or out of revenge on Koizumi’s behalf for hurting his feelings. Prior to this, the first students to be killed by the tentacle monsters just happened to be the ones that had bullied Koizumi in class earlier that day -- implying that Aimi was getting revenge on them, as well.

It was with these revelations that I started to wonder: Why not just let the flesh monster manifest as a direct result of Aimi’s negative feelings? Aimi confessed to murdering Koizumi’s crush before the events of the OVA -- would she have done so if she wasn’t being influenced by the malignant force set on her by Jukokubo? I feel that her arc would have been much more interesting without the introduction of a non-compelling and badly designed villain like Jukokubo, because then we would know it was all her. Even if she was influenced by forces exacerbating her pre-existing jealousy and rage, that is a more satisfying option than having a big dumb green cat of a villain to trace everything back to so neatly. 

And really, what did Jukokubo do in the story beyond take the spotlight, and the blame, from Aimi? He had some previous relation to Hyoi and Rui, but it’s not developed at all, and his ideological rivalry with Hyoi was trivial. Hyoi could have come to the same conclusions about holding out hope for humanity without Jukokubo there to insist he be a guest to debate on his political podcast.  

The lack of accountability regarding Aimi is a part of why the resolution to her conflict with Koizumi feels so wrong -- he succumbs to her feelings because he realizes the evil was born from her suffering, and he feels that he has to sacrifice himself to make up for unknowingly hurting her so much that she turned into a monster from hell. In the end she is absolved via being purified and getting to die with her spirit entwined with Koizumi’s, and he apologizes for having not recognized how he was hurting her. 

Aimi kills his crush, kills his bullies, and ends up -- inadvertently, at least -- killing almost all of their classmates, because she was tilted about her childhood friend not realizing she had romantic feelings for him. And when Koizumi learns all of this, he apologizes and dies with her, and this is proof of humanity’s goodness? The dark clouds part and the rain stops and Aimi and Koizumi ascend in a heavenly ray of light, because he decided, while she was devouring him, that he was wrong to ignore his murderous best friend’s love for him?

I guess it’s fine -- it was probably mostly Jukokubo’s fault anyway, and everyone was just an unfortunate victim of his meddling… 😒

Other than the bad writing, the string of deaths that happen in the finale when the monster lets loose in the school are quite uncomfortable to behold. Deformed student bodies are splayed and strewn around classrooms, and the bullies are rendered into unrecognizable mounds of pulsating flesh in their homes. The violence of a fight against a monster like this, I can handle, but the graphic images of helpless death were difficult to stomach. And in this OVA, there is no miraculous reversal of the demon’s damage once it is purified -- there is no implication whatsoever that everyone who died isn’t still just as dead as Aimi and Koizumi in the end. 

The main thing I was actually worried about when I watched Dark Cat was that there would be sexual assault, thanks to reviewers griping it for “generic hentai tentacles”. I am relieved to say that there is none, at least not insofar as deserving a comparison to actual porn. There is sexual content scattered throughout the horror scenes: The occasionally phallic appearance of the tentacles, shots of the tentacles coming down from under skirts, and there is one shot of nudity when Aimi’s shirt is ripped open as she transforms, though I would say it’s too horrific and ugly to be sexualized or otherwise considered “fanservice”.

What is the point of the hits of sex imagery in Dark Cat? I have no idea. This isn’t Alien, it isn’t about the horror of sexual assault or the violence of creation -- though the main horror of the scene where Rui is ambushed by the teacher seems to be that she uses magic to seduce him, only to reveal a very phallic tentacle from her mouth that she means to kill (or infect…?) him with, which can have multiple, potentially offensive readings… it is a one off, however -- and there doesn’t seem to be any moral posturing about it as is often seen in slashers. I couldn’t parse any sort of consistent STI allegory regarding the plague of tentacles upon the student body, despite how many summaries I have read that describe the tentacles as that, a “plague”. 

… I realize I am probably the only person on earth to give any aspect of Dark Cat’s production this much thought. To sum up: It seems to just exist for the shock value. Considering the extent of disgusting imagery already present a la The Gore and Deformation of Human Bodies, I don’t think this OVA benefitted from featuring some explicit looking tendrils, beyond cementing its abhorrent reputation.

Is this all to say that I think Dark Cat is a good OVA? No, of course not. It’s tone deaf, and tasteless, and has awkward pacing and bad writing. But compared to the utterly soulless and artistically devoid works the likes of Skelter Heaven and Mars of Destruction, I would say the fact I was able to write this much about Dark Cat is testament to that fact that it at the very least, contains content -- and some of that content was like, decent! Skelter+Heaven was such a mess it was all I could do to understand the sequence of events, and Mars of Destruction was so bland I literally have no posts about it on the blog despite watching it more than once. Psychic Wars was a snoozefest I barely finished that similarly has no mention on the blog, and Hanoka’s production gimmick couldn’t save it from being a totally forgettable romance story. 

Therefore, Dark Cat is the best worst title I have seen thus far, by virtue of being executed with an average amount of competency for an OVA from the early 90s, and for having a balance of good and bad elements that gave me something to hold onto and mull over after viewing. 

3/10.

Oh, and I loved the bad 80s insert songs.  

[xoxobuckybarnes]

Sunscreen

New fic for the #B99Summer2020FicExchange / @b99fandomevents that I wrote for @meepmorpperaltiago. You can also read it on AO3. 

I hope you enjoy it!

Prologue

Amy Santiago always wears SPF 30. She always reapplies her sunscreen every hour, exactly. She is intentional in her application, making sure that she applies sunscreen to every inch of her body that will be exposed, or could potentially be exposed, to the sun. If she goes in the water, she makes sure to reapply sunscreen the moment she dries off, and still keeps to the original hour schedule. Her mother had taught her how important it was to take care of her body, and that included her skin. To Amy, it wasn’t worth the risk to not be so deliberate with her sunscreen use.

Jake Peralta, on the other hand, is more liberal with his use of sunscreen. Growing up, his mother didn’t always remember to bring sunscreen to the beach, and when she did have any, it was never more than SPF 10. She encouraged Jake to get as much sun as possible, because it was good for the soul. Sure, after the beach, he needed a lot of aloe and ibuprofen and Gatorade, but he thought it was worth it. As an adult, Jake forgoes sunscreen altogether. He always ends up with a burn, but his red skin darkens pretty quickly, so he doesn’t really mind.

Amy can’t imagine being with someone who doesn’t understand the importance of wearing sunscreen. She figures that anyone who isn’t as intense about sunscreen as she is doesn’t respect their body. But then she meets Jake Peralta, and she understands that it’s okay that others don’t value sunscreen as much as she does. With time and patience and a little coaxing, the one she loves can come to value sunscreen as much as she does.

June 2015

They’ve been dating for about a month when they finally both have a day off. It’s early in the morning in late June. It’s sunny and humid and already over 80°.

“Let’s go to the beach,” Amy suggests as they sit at her kitchen counter, sharing a bowl of cubed watermelon and sipping on glasses of iced green tea. Despite the fan blowing on them at full blast and wearing shorts and a tank top, Amy still feels like she’s drenched in sweat.

“Yes,” Jake pants, using a napkin to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

Amy packs up a bag with a blanket, towels, sunscreen, travel Scrabble and a football, and a cooler full of fruit (more watermelon, peaches, pineapple chunks, apples), granola bars, Gatorade, and water bottles, as Jake runs home to change into his swimsuit. They meet back up at the subway station and take the train to Coney Island.

They find a spot that’s not too crowded. Amy lays out the blanket, and Jake places their shoes, the cooler, and the tote bag on the corners to keep the blanket from blowing away. Jake rips off his shirt and lays face down on the blanket.

Jake can feel Amy sitting next to him and he turns his head so he can look at her. He watches as she rubs sunscreen on her arms and legs. She’s struggling as she tries to reach her back, but she doesn’t say anything. Jake chuckles as he watches her. She either doesn’t notice him chuckling, or she chooses to ignore him, because she continues trying to reach her back.

Jake sits up. “Here, let me help you.”

“Thanks,” Amy says, her shoulders relaxing.

Jake shifts his body so that he’s sitting behind her, his legs on either side of her. He picks up the bottle of sunscreen and squirts a dime-size amount into his palm. He rubs his palms together a few times, before placing his hands on Amy’s shoulders. He rubs his palms down and across her back, slowly, deliberately. He reaches the small of her back and hears her sharp intake of breath.

Jake scoots back and whispers, “You’re good.”

“You need help?” Amy asks as Jake slides back over to his side of the blanket.

“Nah, I’m good,” Jake says, shaking his head and leaning back, resting on his elbows.

“What do you mean ‘I’m good?’” she asks.

“I don’t use sunscreen,” Jake explains.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t use sunscreen?’”

Jake shrugs. “I just don’t use it.”

“Jake!” Amy exclaims. “You need to take care of your skin.”

“Oh, I don’t mind the sunburn. My skin darkens pretty quickly. It’s all good.”

Amy gently slaps his arm. “No, it’s not all good. All this unprotected exposure to the sun could lead to skin cancer or other health problems. You have to take care of yourself.”

Jake nods and then rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

Amy crawls over to sit behind him as he sits back up. She squirts sunscreen directly on his shoulders and back, causing him to shiver from the sudden coolness. He feels a little pressure as she begins to rub the sunscreen into his shoulders. Her hands meet in the middle and one hand reaches up to spread sunscreen on the back of his neck. Her hands run down his back, on his sides, down to his waist.

Jake and Amy have stupid good sex when they’re together but, having her spread sunscreen on him is a whole new level of intimacy. He’s enjoying having her hands all over his body. However, on top of the physical closeness of this action, there’s something deeper to it. It’s the reason why her hands are all over him – she cares so much about him, that she wants him to do things to take better care of himself. And he cares so much about her, that he’s willing to do these little things. It’s what make his relationship with Amy unlike any relationship he’s every been in before – the fact that he cares so much about her.

He no longer feels her hands on his back. He leans back until his back meets her chest. She wraps her arms around him, kissing his check before resting her head on his shoulder.

“Ames, thanks for caring so much about me,” he says softly, barely able to get the words out because he’s feeling so emotional.

“Of course,” she responds, pulling him in closer to her, kissing his check again.

They stay that way for a while, Jake feeling comforted by Amy’s embrace. Eventually, she lets go and carefully pushes him off of her. “You need to finish putting on sunscreen.”

Jake beams. He picks up the bottle of sunscreen and squirts it into his palm. He rubs the sunscreen on the rest of his body as he watches her crawl back to her spot on the blanket next to him. He’s not paying attention at all to what he’s doing, he’s so enamored by Amy.

Once he thinks he has sufficiently covered his body in sunscreen he stands up, offering his hand down to Amy, who takes it and stand up with him.

“C’mon.”

He leads her down to the water. They wade in, until the water is up to their knees. Jake turns and looks at Amy, who’s looking back at him, glowing. She steps closer to him, and he pulls her into his side.

“You know I’m going to make you put more sunscreen back on the moment we get out of the water, right?”

Jake laughs. “I know.”

And with that, he lets go of her and dives into the approaching wave. When he pops back up to the surface, he turns and sees Amy still standing in the same spot, giggling.

He knows deep within his heart, that he’ll put on as much sunscreen as she wants him to for the rest of his life. And he’s cool with that.    

May 2018

So, their honeymoon had gotten off to a rough start. Really, how many people had to experience their honeymoon with their boss? But Holt had finally accepted the (temporary) loss of his dream to be commissioner and went back to Brooklyn, leaving Jake and Amy to enjoy their honeymoon, just the two of them.

Amy exits the bathroom of their hotel room to find Jake frantically rummaging through their bags.

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

He answers her without looking up, moving on to the next bag. “I can’t find any sunscreen.”

Amy laughs, remembering the start of their relationship, when she had to explain to him the importance of wearing sunscreen. Now look at him, taking initiative. They’ve certainly come a long way.

She pulls one of their bags out from under the bed. “I have some here.”

Jake relaxes, releases a sigh of relief. “Oh, good.”

He reaches to take it from her, but she snaps it out of his reach at the last second. She shakes her head in disbelief, “Who are you?”

He pretends to pout. “Babe, I’m your husband.”

He barely has the word “husband” out of his mouth before the pout transforms into the widest grin Amy’s ever seen.

Amy grins back. “You’re my husband!”

“I’m your husband! I love saying that! I love you!”

Amy drops the sunscreen on the bed and steps closer to Jake. She slowly slides her arms around his waist and he wraps his arms around her neck. She looks up at him and whispers, “Remember when we had just started dating, and I had to convince you to wear sunscreen? And now look at you, stressing over where the sunscreen is. Look at how much has changed since we started dating. I love you more and more each and every day.”

Jake leans down and rests his forehead to Amy’s. “Amy Santiago, you make me a better person. And I love every minute of being with you. I love you.”

Amy places a soft peck on each of his cheeks, before kissing him on the lips. She starts to pull away from him, but he tightens his embrace. She allows him to lead her closer to the bed. She continues to kiss him as she sits on the bed, and then leans back. He crawls on top of her.

Clothes are being pulled off and thrown around the room as Jake and Amy momentarily ditch the plan to go the beach, choosing instead to enjoy each other’s company.

An hour later, they’re lying in bed, panting, Jake’s head resting on Amy’s chest as she plays with his hair.

“Ames…”

“Jacob Peralta, love of my life…”

Jake shifts his body so that he can look up at her, and her heart skips a beat at the sight of the smile on his face.

“You still want to go to the beach?” he asks.

“I guess we should, we did spend all this money and came all this way. Perhaps we shouldn’t be a cliché and spend the whole honeymoon in the hotel room,” she responds.

Jake rolls out of the bed and Amy follows him. They put on their swimsuits and Jake starts to apply sunscreen to himself. Amy watches as he struggles to spread the sunscreen on his back. She walks over to him and places her hand on the small of his back and leans to whisper into his ear. “Here, let me help you.”

Amy takes the bottle of sunscreen away from Jake and squirts some onto his back. She takes her time, slowly rubbing it into his back, making sure to get every inch of his body covered. She bites her lip as he groans when she applies a little pressure, her fingertips pressing into his skin along his waist. He leans back against her and she begins to press kisses into his back, up his neck, nibbling at his ear while she plays with his hair.

“Ames…” he growls.

Jake reaches behind him to touch Amy, and she presses her whole body against him.

“Jake…” she hums.

An hour later and they find themselves panting on the bed again, nowhere closer to the beach.  

Amy’s resting her head on Jake’s chest as she lays on top of him, her legs straddling his. “Are we a cliché?” she asks as she traces circles slowly into his bicep, pressing another kiss into his chest.

“Hmmm,” Jake moans. “Maybe.”

Why is it that there’s the cliché that newlyweds never leave the hotel room on their honeymoon? Amy thinks about how she’s feeling, right in this moment: pure bliss. She’s so in love with her husband. And while they’re not new to having sex or being intimate, there’s something different now that they’re married. They just declared their love in front of all their friends, the people who are the most important to them in the world, and she knows how privileged they are to share this love. It’s that their relationship has grown, in a way that none of their previous relationships ever did. It’s that they make each other better, and their marriage is proof of that. So that’s why she accepts being a cliché – because their relationship has reached a new deepness, a new level of commitment, a new intimacy, that so many dream of realizing, and they want, no, need, to celebrate it.

Amy presses kisses up his chest, up his neck, along his chin, back to his lips. “I guess there’s a reason that not leaving the hotel room is a honeymoon cliché.”

“I say, let’s just go with it,” Jake says, kissing Amy back.

“The beach will be there tomorrow,” she shrugs, kissing Jake’s chin, and his chest, continuing down, down, down.

“The beach will be there tomorrow…” Jake gasps.

Amy accepts her and Jake being a cliché as they start in on their third round before noon.

August 2020

If he could have had any say in it, Jake would not have chosen to have his son be born at the beginning on a world-wide pandemic. Alas, though, he had no control over these things, and his son spent his first few months of life quarantined, sheltered from the outside world. Perhaps, it wasn’t a completely terrible thing – his son was very healthy, being isolated from the millions of germs that were typically unavoidable in New York City.

By August though, things were slowly beginning to open up again, with precautions set into place. After much debate, Amy and Jake came to the decision that it would be good for Mac to have an experience outside of their small NYC apartment. And so, they packed up the car and drove out to a tiny, rented beach house in the Hamptons, where they could have access to a private beach for Mac’s first excursion into the real world.

Mac is in his carrier on top of the kitchen counter, as Jake sits in the stool in front of him, holding a bottle of baby sunscreen. Jake scrunches up his eyebrows. The warning on the back of the bottle says not for children under six months.

“Ames?” he calls out. “I’m confused.”

“What’s wrong babe?” she asks as she joins Jake in the kitchen, still wearing her pajamas. She wraps one arm around Jake’s shoulders and tickles Mac’s tummy, laughing along with him.

“So, we can’t put sunscreen on Mac?”

“No, he’s too little,” she states.

“Well, how do we keep him safe from the sun?”

Amy rolls her eyes. “We have this little tent for him to sit in, plus the hat and the sunglasses, and the linen long sleeve top and pants. He’ll be in the shade and completely covered.”

Jake shakes his head and fakes outrage. “But you taught me that we always have to wear sunscreen! You lied to me?”

Amy pulls her arm from around Jake and lifts Mac out of his carrier. “You’re an idiot,” she says with a smirk and a wink as she walks Mac into the bedroom.

Jake follows her into the bedroom, where she’s changing Mac’s diaper on the floor.  “Well, if Mac doesn’t have to wear sunscreen, then neither do I,” he declares.

“Fine,” Amy responds. “You’re a grown man, do what you want.”

Jake’s jaw drops open. That was not the response he was expecting from his wife. “Really? You’re not going to lecture me on taking care of my body? You’re not going to tell me that it’s even more pertinent that I take care of my body now that I have a child who’s depending on me? You’re not going to tell me how important it is that I wear sunscreen so that I stay healthy for years and years to come and can have a relationship with my son?”

Amy has finished changing Mac’s diaper and lifts him up as she stands up next to Jake. “No, I don’t need to tell you all that because you just told it to yourself.”

“Damn it,” Jake laughs. He kisses Amy on the cheek and then takes Mac out of her arms so that she can finish getting herself ready for the beach. Five years of being with Amy and clearly, she’s rubbed off on him, in the best way possible. He knows her so well; he knows what she would say before she has to even say it. It’s not even just that he can anticipate her arguments, it’s that he’s come to share some of her beliefs and values. Some of the issues they use to argue over, are nonissues because of her positive influence in his life. She’s seriously the best thing that’s ever happened to him.  

Jake looks down at Mac, who’s cooing in his arms. He’s tied with Amy for being the best thing in Jake’s life.

July 2030

In the last few years, it has become a tradition for the Santiago-Peralta family to celebrate the Fourth of July at the beach. They rent a house down in Delaware, just the five of them, for the week. They spend their mornings on the beach, swimming in the waves, throwing a football around, building sandcastles, reading. They spend their afternoons strolling the boardwalk, riding the thrill rides, playing arcade games, browsing in the bookstore and antique shops, filling up on fudge, and taffy, and cotton candy. On the Fourth of July, Jake barbeques hot dogs and hamburgers and ribs, and corn on the cob and zucchini and tomatoes, and they sit on the front porch watching the fireworks over the ocean. It’s always such a fun time and they look forward to it, all year long.

They arrive at the house late at night on June 30, so they unpack and head right to bed. They wake up early Monday morning, ready to walk down to the beach by 8am. Jake drags a wagon, filled with sand toys, a football, a frisbee, a volleyball, a soccer ball, paddles and a rubber ball, cornhole, two beach chairs, three umbrellas, and five-year-old Ginny. Amy drags a wagon filled with two coolers (one filled with water, Gatorade, lemonade, iced green tea, apple juice, and capri suns, the other filled with sandwiches, pretzels, apples, oranges, peaches, plums, watermelon chunks, pineapple chunks, granola bars, and cookies) and tote bags filled with towels, blankets, sunscreen, bug spray, books, travel scrabble, travel Guess Who, and a portable radio. Ten-year-old Mac and eight-year-old Trey walk in between Jake and Amy, carrying their boogie boards.

“You think we have enough stuff?” Jake turns around and asks Amy.

“Obviously, we’re moving to the beach,” Amy jokes.

Everyone pitches in to help set up once they arrive at the beach, putting down blankets (with flipflops and coolers on the corners to hold them down), setting up the beach umbrellas and chairs. Amy pulls out the sunscreen, getting ready to lather everyone up.

Ginny’s still young enough that she just listens to Amy and Jake, and allows her mother to put sunscreen on her without a fight (plus, it helps that the kid’s sunscreen Amy uses comes out of the bottle purple). And Mac, is just like a mini Amy, so he puts the sunscreen on without even having to be told to.

But Trey… well, Trey is like a mini Jake. He likes to have fun, to push the boundaries.

“I don’t want to,” Trey whines when Amy tells him it’s his turn to put on sunscreen.

“Well, it’s not a choice,” Amy states.

“But, why?”

“We have to protect ourselves from the sun,” Amy explains.

“But, the sun is so far away,” Trey counters.

“Well, it’s still harmful.”

“I don’t get it,” Trey shrugs.

Amy’s at a loss as to what to say to Trey. She’s still tired from traveling last night and can’t think of a way to explain to an eight-year-old why he needs sunscreen. She turns to look at Jake, but he and Ginny are already in the sand, building a castle, and she’d hate to interrupt their fun.

“Trey…” she starts, but Mac cuts her off.

“You know what Trey; the sun is far away. But it’s super strong, like stronger than Superman. And, the sun has rays, that can really hurt your skin. But, it doesn’t hurt you right away. And you can’t see it hurt you. And the only thing that can protect you, is sunscreen. It’s like, Batman wears his batsuit to give him superpowers against the Joker, and the Penguin. Well, we wear sunscreen and it gives us superpowers against the sun.”  

“Woah!” Trey responds.

Amy smiles, amused. Of course, relate anything to superheroes, and you can make an eight-year-old do it. As she applies sunscreen to Trey, she thinks of how proud she is of Mac. He’s such an amazing older brother. Honestly, she’s proud and amazed by all her kids; they’re such incredible little humans.

She finishes applying sunscreen to Trey, and he and Mac are off, running down to the water with their boogie boards. Amy quickly applies sunscreen to herself before she follows them down to the water. She stands up to her knees, allowing the waves to crash on her thighs, as she watches Mac and Trey race back and forth in the water, occasionally trying to use their boogie boards to ride the waves. She turns back and looks at Jake, sitting in the sand, allowing their daughter to take charge in the building of a sandcastle. Jake looks back at Amy and waves, beaming back at her.

Amy knows she is so lucky. She has an amazing husband, and with him, they made the three best kids anyone could ever ask for.

Epilogue

Amy Santiago always wears SPF 30. She always reapplies her sunscreen every hour, exactly. She is intentional in her application, making sure that she applies sunscreen to every inch of her body that will be exposed, or could potentially be exposed, to the sun. If she goes in the water, she makes sure to reapply sunscreen the moment she dries off, and still keeps to the original hour schedule. Her mother had taught her how important it was to take care of her body, and that included her skin. To Amy, it wasn’t worth the risk to not be so deliberate with her sunscreen use. She makes sure that she passes this value to her children, making sure that they also understand the importance of wearing sunscreen.

Jake Peralta almost never wore sunscreen. That is, until he started dating Amy Santiago. She was cautious in the sun and taught him to be cautious too. She taught him to value his body and to protect it. These were values that they passed along to their children.

Never, in a million years, would Jake Peralta have thought that sunscreen would play such an important part in his life, in his love life, in his family. But, the fact that it does, just goes to show how powerful love is.  

[enchanted-prose]

#16 Blackberry Night i

in which the lady renlyn gets a vibe check

Word count: 4,502

Characters: the whole squad (including fink and kerwyn) so im not gonna list all of them because we’d be here for a while

Notes: every girl deserves a cinderella moment

Enjoy!

His room was too sparsely decorated to be distracting. Jaron tugged on Imogen’s long braid, earning a light hearted smack.

He’d called for a meeting with his inner circle half an hour before, but hadn’t expected anyone to arrive early, not while the morning sun was still shoving its way across the horizon.

However, Tobias was standing before him. Quaking before him.

“I’m in a much better mood,” Jaron tugged on Imogen’s braid again, and managed to catch her hand. “Ha! Caught you!”

Imogen made a face, “Would you like a blue ribbon for that, love?”

“I would, actually. Give it to me now.”

Tobias coughed, “I, ah, I decided to let you rest before I told you what I found out.”

Saints, what had he asked during his feverish ramblings this time?

The events from the previous evening bled into a continuous stream. Checking on Feall, the blow to his leg, and then falling asleep in the physician’s chambers. Jaron tapped his knee. He and Imogen were discussing Mireldis Thay that morning. They’d figured out a link to her: Jolly.

“Is it- is she dead? Did Jolly have the information we wanted?” Jaron trailed his thumb over each of Imogen’s knuckles.

He could hear his own words echoing back at him, the unintelligible claims of fever and exhaustion. Jaron brushed a strand of hair away from Imogen's face, repeating the motion despite having tucked all of her stray hairs back into place. He'd had a suspicion about who Mireldis Thay was.

No, no.

He had several suspicions, ranging from Ayvar all the way down to Dawn of the Dragon's Keep.

Although the latter was seeming more and more unlikely with each passing day.

Tobias looked to Imogen, "I told Amarinda a few minutes ago, I didn't want either of you to be alarmed."

"Are you Mireldis Thay?" Jaron pressed a hand to his heart.

It was thumping too hard in his chest. Trying to escape.

Trying to find a safe place to rest. To let stone walls down and grow branches. Tree branches, specifically. Ones strong enough to climb and hide in.

Patience was a virtue Jaron never cared to master. His rabbit heart only proved that.

"Saints curse it all, stop hesitating and just tell me what you were able to find out," Jaron burst.

Imogen flinched.

"I, ah, well," Tobias scratched the back of his head, apparently finding his toes much more interesting than Jaron's frown. "I should warn you that Jolly's not afraid, or at least that's what he told me."

"This isn't about Jolly, it's about Mireldis Thay."

"But it is about Jolly, Jaron. And Feall. Everyone here has become a pawn and none of us caught it."

The rabbit thumping in Jaron's ribs wasn't easing. He tried to calm himself by pressing Imogen's fingers to his chin.

Pieces of a game.

Pawns.

Jaron had been a pawn before, and he had no intention of going back.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He muttered.

"You were unconscious, Jaron, you wouldn't have been able to understand," Imogen's quiet reminder almost made his frustration melt.

"I haven't spoken with Feall," Tobias finally looked up. "He's still resting and it's cruel to try to force words from an injured man. We were fools to put pressure on Amarinda and not him. Ami's lived in Carthya for more than a decade, Feall hasn't."

There was a simple reason behind respecting Feall's privacy, and Jaron hated it. He hated that he'd been too trusting.

And yet, Feall had given them so many reasons to trust him.

"You still haven't told me what you found, Tobias."

Silence chills, even in the middle of summer. Jaron's room was far too cold, far too quiet.

"Jolly never gave Lady Thay's name outright," Tobias rolled his shoulders back, as if bracing himself for some sudden death at sharing his secret. "Instead, he informed me that Mireldis Thay has indeed been in Carthya this entire time, talking with us and earning our trust. She's been here the entire time, ever since Feall and King Oberson came to pay homage to you. And there's only one person I can think of that's been here, becoming friends with us."

The words were too frightening to say.

“Renlyn Karise,” Jaron frowned. “You mean to tell me Renlyn Karise is Mireldis Thay?”

Tobias nodded.

However, Imogen shook her head in disagreement. “That’s impossible, you know how much she and Feall get along with each other. Feall’s told us multiple times that the Faola attacking him had to be Mireldis Thay.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” said Jaron.

“How did Amarinda take it?” Imogen asked.

“Ah, she- she didn’t accept the news. She still hasn’t accepted the news. We agreed to think on the matter and discuss it once we’ve both sat with the information.”

Amarinda didn’t take the news well?

Could she  be blamed?

Renlyn Karise had a murderous stare and an ambiguous streak, but Jaron couldn’t picture her being bold enough to kick him and crawl back to the castle.

Though maybe he was wrong. He’d gambled on another person’s behavior before.

Playing the long game was something Jaron knew well. It took skill and foresight, both traits were something Renlyn needed to maintain a series of business ventures.

She’d tricked him into buying things, and now he’d trick her into revealing herself.

“I’ll handle it,” Jaron sat straight up, jostling Imogen in the process.

“Jaron, we’re here to help y-“ she began.

“Please tell me you didn’t invite her to the meeting,” said Tobias, pressing his hands to his forehead. “By the Saints, you invited her to the meeting.”

Yes, actually, Jaron did invite Renlyn.

But for a different reason than Tobias and Imogen expected.

Roden was among the first people to visit Jaron that morning, bringing news of the Faola’s escape with him. News of Regar helping with the escape. Jaron hid his disappointment with a cheeky grin and quick forgiveness.

In the end, Regar’s imprisonment would only help Jaron. He’d read a series of letters since Row and Regar came to Drylliad.

One could only see the same name so many times before noticing patterns.

If Jaron’s guess was correct, he’d give himself a medal.

“She holds valuable opinions once you get past her general unapproachability,” Jaron grinned.

“I don’t think we should be taking this so lightly,” said Tobias. He looked like a preening crow each time he patted down his deep green vest. “Your bruise runs too deep for jokes.”

“See, there’s a detail you forgot. Did you catch it, Imogen?”

The slight shake from Imogen’s head gave Jaron his answer.

He’d mulled over the prospect of catching Mireldis Thay for several days before cracking down and searching through books. When that didn’t help, Jaron turned to Kerwyn, who’d been present during King Eckbert’s search for a suitable bride. The search led Eckbert to Amarinda, in turn leading to a rush of Bymarian information.

Kerwyn knew little more than Jaron, but that was better than nothing. Kerwyn knew the names of all seventeen Bymarian noble lords, their five kingdom states, and their five lesser kings. Graer Thay was a staunch military leader, who’d left the keys to his kingdom state to his second wife.

Graer Thay vanished just before the Avenian war.

Queen Danika’s investigators should’ve been looking for two Thays, not one.

Tobias was rubbing his wrists, and glanced over his shoulder. Once he’d finished with his wrists, he tugged at his shirt’s collar. His odd ritual continued as he patted the hem of his vest.

“Jolly never gave you the actual name, Tobias, you made an assumption,” Jaron explained. “A very compelling assumption, yes, but believability doesn’t make something true.”

Tobias scowled, “You’re the one who asked me to be a spy! Let me stitch a person back together while you manage to topple entire regimes because you’re slippery enough.”

“We haven’t toppled a king recently,” Imogen tapped her chin. “We should add that to our future plans.”

“You’re right! We’ve focused too long on our own problems, it’s high time that we cause

problems for somebody else,” said Jaron. “Let’s practice on Tobias.”

“Jaron! I’m your friend, your doctor, your regent, and a member of your inner circle! That’s not a good idea!”

People often forgot how easy it was for Jaron to remember details.

Details like Roden rubbing his neck and Mott grabbing his side when a door shut loud enough.

Tobias’s little detail was much quieter than reaching for an invisible pain. He patted his clothes, his hair, his wrists.

Almost like he was checking to make sure that he was still alive.

The antidote for these bursts of eerie movement varied from person to person. With Imogen, Jaron reached for her hands. With Mott, it was holding a conversation.

With Tobias, it was merciless teasing to the point of a frustrated outburst.

“Let’s replace every single one of his left socks with socks that are two sizes too big,” Jaron gestured to Tobias’s boots. “Not too damaging, but enough to cause discomfort.”

“Don’t be cruel, he did do you a favor last night,” Imogen said.

Tobias opened his mouth to speak, but Jaron cut him off. “That’s why the socks will only be two sizes bigger instead of being made from woven metal.”

“Metal cloth is saved for gowns, not socks,” Tobias crossed his arms.

“They’ll make an exception for me.”

The door creaked open. Roden held a hand to his eyes, “Stop yelling, I haven’t eaten breakfast.”

“Didn’t I just see you?” Jaron frowned.

“I had an errand to run.”

“That’s what Fink’s for.”

“It wasn’t a Fink type of errand.”

Mott and Amarinda entered next, going their separate ways when Amarinda stood beside Tobias.

Amarinda’s frown, though small, couldn’t be missed.

Roden and Mott began dragging chairs to Jaron’s bedside as more people came. Imogen would sit on Jaron’s left, while Harlowe sat on his right.

Jaron took great care to instruct everyone to leave the seat nearest to the corner open for Renlyn.

It provided both privacy and openness.

The corner would feel like a hiding place despite having no cover.

Renlyn slipped into the room just before Harlowe with Fink serving as her escort. When Fink received his nod of approval from Mott, he crossed his legs and sat at the end of Jaron’s bed.

A good move; chairs weren’t always ideal.

There was never any rest for the weary. Despite the ache in his leg and Tobias’s insistence that he rested, Jaron had his trusted circle gathered around his bed. He’d made his decision regarding several situations.

Jaron held out a hand to Imogen. Her touch was almost enough to take the pain away.

“Let’s get this all out of the way,” he stretched his arms above his head. “I have every intention of yelling at Renlyn for putting up decorations while I was trying to recover.”

Renlyn only smirked.

Much had happened during the night, or at least that’s what Imogen told him as she helped him hobble back to his bed. Regar was in prison, the Faola who attacked Jaron escaped, and Lord Row was still waiting to know if Carthya would help Avenia.

“Shall we start with the happier business or get right to depressing ourselves?” Jaron leaned back against his pillows, eying the people around his bed.

Imogen, Amarinda, Mott, Tobias, Roden, Renlyn, Harlowe, Fink, and Kerwyn.

His greatest supporters.

Harlowe patted the papers in front of him, “I suppose the happier business, it’ll soften the difficulties to come.”

“I’ve done this in an unorthodox way,” Jaron said. “We can’t hesitate to help Avenia, not if we want to promote good relations. Lord Row requests a Carthyan presence in Isel, and it is what he’ll get. Harlowe, we will station soldiers in Libeth, and place Sir Alistair Derforgall in Isel.”

“Alistair’s a good choice,” Roden nodded.

“I know, it’s why he’s going to Isel. He has enough experience to be useful and enough smarts not to do something stupid.”

Amarinda’s back was as straight as a rod, “Lord Row will be pleased.”

He’d better be happy. Jaron didn’t want to throw out military assistance to every lord who threw himself at the king’s throne.

Renlyn raised her hand, and spoke when Jaron nodded to her. “I have several holdings in Isel that require protecting, I’ll likely hire an army should revolution break out, they’ll be there to assist Alistair.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” said Jaron.

“I’ll try to meet your expectations then.”

Was that really the face of a cold blooded killer?

Probably.

Jaron ran his thumb over Imogen’s fingers as Harlowe scribbled down Jaron’s decision on a piece of parchment.

“Speaking of foreign powers, what are we to do with King Oberson?” Kerwyn stroked his massive beard.

He looked like a philosopher of old.

“We can’t turn him away, it’s rude and I have no intention of making any new enemies,” Jaron gestured to his leg. “I already have one too sneaky to be caught.”

“It’s time you started taking soldiers with you when you leave the castle,” Mott said.

“For the first time, I think you might be right.”

Tobias’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, “Is it raining ducks outside? Are pigs flying? I never thought I’d see the day that Jaron agrees with Mott regarding his own safety.”

“And onto the next subject,” Jaron pointed a finger at Tobias; he’d get him back for that comment later. “Commander Regar is currently waiting on us to hear about his fate. Roden, would you mind explaining the situation from last night to us?”

Roden’s expression hardened. “Last night after the attack on Jaron, I tracked Regar to the Vaults. He’d already captured the Faola responsible for the attack, and chose to behave according to the old laws rather than turn the Faola over to the crown’s custody.”

“Odd,” Mott scowled. “And alarming.”

“Regar managed to help us get the Faola out of the Vaults,” Roden continued. “However, he claims to have slipped and he caught my shoulder for balance, allowing the Faola to escape. I doubt the Faola stuck around.”

“I think the Faola did stick around,” countered Tobias. “I think he’s still in the castle.”

“But why?” Fink scratched his nose. “You’d be an idiot to stick around a place where everyone wants you dead.”

Jaron cracked a sly grin, a faint memory of teasing Fink back at the pirates’ camp snatching his attention.

“The Faola likely has another goal they value more than their own life,” Renlyn clasped her hands in her lap. “Foolish from our perspective, yes, but to the Faola it must be important.”

“We’ll discuss the matter of the Faola later,” Jaron said. “Regar’s situation requires our attention for a moment.”

“Will you give him the punishment for treason?” Kerwyn leaned back in his chair.

“That’s not something to be taken lightly, and I won’t have somebody executed for treason based off of a stumble.”

“His stumble could cost you your life, my king.”

Jaron waved his hand, “Did you know you can rearrange the letters of certain words to form other words?”

“Jaron, please.”

“I’ve chosen to pardon Regar as a demonstration of kindness and also because I think he holds some use to us,” he said. Jaron squeezed Imogen’s hand, “Besides, it would be disrespectful to kill Lord Row’s hired commander after telling him we’ll give Avenia the aid she needs. You don’t make friends by giving them a prize and then breaking their foot.”

“We’re playing this game for friends now?” Renlyn arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, yes we are. Does that bother you, Lady Karise?”

“Not every friendship holds the best intentions, my king.”

Tobias plucked at his collar, his eyes glancing from Renlyn to Jaron without a hint of subtlety.

The trap had been set. Jaron kept his gaze locked on Renlyn. She didn’t seem like she’d run away, but he’d been wrong about her before.

“A bold claim, coming from a girl wearing a false name,” Jaron kept his voice even, kept his face almost icy. “The pattern was hard to follow, but it made sense. Lord Feall came here first, followed by Jolly, followed by you.”

Renlyn’s movement was slow. Too slow.

She had the speed of a predator tensing before a pounce.

“Just what are you suggesting, my lord?” Renlyn asked. Her eyebrows had risen and her mouth curled down. She was daring him.

Daring him to say the name.

“I’m suggesting that you’re Mireldis Thay,” Jaron forced a smile. “You sent Jolly here to gather intel on Lord Feall, you joined the Faola, and used that as a cover to kill him while still maintaining a comfortable life.”

The silence that followed rivaled the chilling, never ending void of a coffin.

Everyone looked to Renlyn, but she never looked away from Jaron.

“That poses a curious question,” Renlyn mused. “I’m not not Mireldis Thay, just as Princess Amarinda is not not Mireldis Thay. Are we all who we really say we are, your Majesty?”

“Answer the question,” Roden growled. He’d pushed his chair away from the bed, obviously preparing to apprehend Renlyn.

Mott had mimicked the motion.

“Ask it again, if you didn’t like what I said. Be more direct.”

Renlyn was pushing her limits on purpose, Jaron recognized the way she danced around the question. He inhaled, watching for any betrayal of emotion on her face.

All she did was stare at him.

“Are you Mireldis Thay, Lady Karise?” He asked. “Have you been lying to my face the entire time you’ve served my wife?”

“If you require me to be Mireldis Thay, then I am she.”

The answer wasn’t what Jaron wanted. It wasn’t what anyone wanted. Renlyn’s motives were clear at one point; serve the kingdom by being a companion to the queen. But now it wasn’t so easy.

Everyone flinched as Renlyn stood. She flashed a rare, glittering smile. “There is no need to escort me to the dungeons, I’m still a member of the nobility and I’m complying with your accusations. Captain Harlowe, Sir Fink, you can accompany me to my chambers.”

“Excuse me?” Jaron leaned forward. “Do you think this is funny, Lady Karise?”

“I do, actually, but I’m not here to cause a ruckus. Do enjoy Blackberry Night at my expense, King Jaron. May the festivities distract and guide you to the answer you seek.”

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

Jaron almost felt guilty about locking Renlyn in her chambers when he saw the finished decorations for Blackberry Night.

Candles hung in perfect little cages, their light bouncing off of gilded plants. A faint sparkling dust tumbled from the ceiling. Every noble was dressed in shades of cream, gold, and pink.

Even Jaron conformed to the strict color code.

He’d given up fighting Mott about needing an escort, his argument fading to nothing after his inability to stand for more than ten minutes without needing a rest. Jaron agreed to let Mott keep an eye on him until Imogen came.

One of the best additions to the hall was a series of ivy covered trellises forming tiny square rooms. Jaron and Mott had managed to squeeze into one before a forbidden couple could take it. The ivy walls didn’t mask conversations, but it did manage to give Jaron a moment of privacy.

A moment to build walls to block prying eyes.

“That couch looks all too appealing,” Jaron noted, crushing his hand into a fist.

His leg didn’t control him.

“Sit down then,” Mott said. “You don’t want to collapse in front of everyone.”

Very true, unfortunately.

The great hall was packed with glittering doublets and wide gowns. Trying to get to the tables stacked with sweets would require military assistance.

Jaron stared at the couch. “Do you think I went too easy on Renlyn?”

Mott crossed his arms over his plain white shirt, obviously thinking of an answer. He shrugged.

“Maybe I was too hard.”

“I think it’s dangerous to assume things, Jaron. But that applies to all people, not just Renlyn.”

“Too many things make sense if she really were Mireldis Thay, but there’s still a few inconsistencies. It’s not quite perfected.”

“So tell me what you know, and we’ll figure it out together.”

“This is the longest you’ve been nice to me, Mott,” Jaron cracked a grin. “Is it because somebody kicked me?”

“Take a seat on the couch.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Jaron collapsed against the cushions, his leg sighing in relief.

The music playing, some Mendenwal styled waltz, still managed to be heard despite the hundreds of conversations all at once. Jaron tapped the beat of the waltz out on his leg.

Regar, Regar, Regar.

When rearranged, it posed a striking resemblance to another infamous name.

Jaron couldn’t keep his discovery to himself. If he was wrong, so be it, but the pattern was too clever to keep hidden.

“Did you know you can rearrange the letters of certain words to form other words?” Jaron asked, repeating the same phrase he’d used when meeting with his inner circle.

“Yes, you mentioned that,” Mott said. “What words have you created this time?”

“None, actually. I’m just thinking about false names. I lived with a stolen name for a good portion of my life, and I know how important it is to find a name that reminds you of who you are without letting other people know.”

“Are you still thinking about Mireldis Thay?”

Jaron nodded, “I think we’ve been focusing on the wrong Thay.”

Had it not been for the sudden hush falling over the crowd, Jaron would’ve thrown out his newest theory. But not with the quiet. Not where people could hear him and pass on the information.

It could wait.

The continued quiet was too loud to be ignored. Jaron forced himself off of the trellis, using Mott as a support to peek out of the trellis walled room.

Mott was there to push Jaron’s chin back up when his mouth fell open.

Amarinda and Imogen were walking down the stairs with their arms linked. Though Amarinda looked pleasant enough in her gold gown, Jaron had eyes only for Imogen.

“Get out of the way! That’s my wife!” Jaron hissed as he wormed through the crowd of nobles.

Imogen rivaled the spring sun. She was warm, inviting, and covered in only the calmest blooms. Pale pink fabric climbed her arms before vanishing into a pair of round sleeves and reemerging in the front panel of her gown. Tiny pearls had been strung into her hair.

He had every intention of freeing every single one.

“Sorry I’m late,” Imogen flashed an apologetic smile. “Plans changed.”

“I’m going to kiss you right now,” Jaron said.

“Oh, at least let me find my husband first,” groaned Amarinda.

“I think he’s nursing a head injury.”

Imogen laughed, “I haven’t seen him go that shade of red in too long.”

The musicians began to play again. Jaron did his best to fulfill his promise to kiss his wife, but Imogen’s dodging abilities were improving with time.

“No, I put paint on my lips and I refuse to be the girl with lip paint all over her chin,” Imogen put her hand over Jaron’s mouth.

His words were muffled. “You’re the queen, it’s different.”

“Lip paint is messy!”

“The messier the better!”

He’d get his kiss. Jaron knew he would.

Taking Imogen by the hand, Jaron led her to the center of the floor, not at all ashamed of holding her hand like a trophy.

“Are you sure you can dance?” Imogen asked.

“I’ll force myself through at least half of one, but I have other plans for this evening,” he said, nodding his head towards the trellis walled spaces.

Imogen snickered, and set her hand on Jaron’s shoulder as their dance began.

Every one of her features was as familiar as the back of his hand, but he never gave up the chance to study her face. The curve of her nose, the fullness of her bottom lip. Her springtime smile.

There could never be anyone else for him.

Only Imogen.

It was her hand that he reached for in the night to remind himself that he was safe. To remind himself that he’d found somebody who’d never abandon him in the name of peace. He reached for her when the pirate brand on his arm ached and when the past he shoved away couldn’t be shoved any longer.

The throbbing ache in his leg was slowly returning.

Her hand, still calloused from her years as a servant, was a perfect fit in his. If he held on just a little tighter, he could finish the dance.

King or not, Jaron refused to keep Imogen from being treated the way she deserved.

And meant ignoring the pain in his leg for the duration of a song.

“Do you want to-,” Imogen started.

Jaron shook his head, “I only want to be here with you. Tell me what you did today. During the afternoon. I didn’t get to see you.”

“I played with the kitten,” her smile brightened the room. “Amarinda tells me that if I keep giving treats for no reason, the kitten will get too fat to walk. She’d have to roll around.”

“I’d have a carriage made, one that can be pulled by a team of tiny rats. That way, Fink gets his rat, and your cat can get around.”

“But wouldn’t the cat eat the rats?”

“Nonsense, if the cat’s too fat to walk, it can’t catch anything.”

Imogen continued tracing her steps through her afternoon, explaining that the gown she wore wasn’t what she’d originally planned, but she’d felt a surge of spontaneity. The seed pearls in her hair were also a last minute add in.

Nobody could ever match Imogen.

Not her strength nor her undeniable ability to make everyone she met feel wanted.

It was still a struggle to accept that she’d chosen him out of every other man in Carthya.

He was silent when the song ended and Imogen helped him limp to the ivy guarded rooms. Words were hard to come by when both pain and burning devotion met to fight for control.

“Sit by me,” Jaron patted the couch cushion beside him, his smile was small, but he preferred it to a forced grimace of a grin. “I promise I won’t get lip paint on your chin.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to return to bed?” Imogen asked.

“I want to be with you.”

“And I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“It’s not so bad when you’re with me.”

Too much hid behind Jaron’s words. The pain in his leg would go away, and it would come back the next time he was kicked there. It came and went.

As did the pain of the past.

But Imogen made it bearable.

[clownleyy]

Heated Blanket

Chapter 2,

There’s no way this could backfire

"You're an elf?" I say aloud.

His eyes meet mine and he nods weakly. I begin to worry now, he could be someone's escaped slave, which is dangerous. I could have to pay a fine for harbouring him.

But I could definitely be in a bigger legal battle if I let him die.

I sigh as I pick him up, shutting the door with my foot and carrying him to the bedroom. I flick the lights on as I enter and set him on the bed.

"Can I take this off? I want to patch you up." I hold the tattered edge of a stained and bloody t-shirt. His head nods in a woozy motion and I take it as a 'yes'.

I pull it off him and quickly find the source of his bleeding.

A gash on his stomach. Easy to repair since it's not deep. I stitch it back together and clean the wound. He lets out a breath of relief and nods his thanks.

"You want to take a bath?" I offer. I know some masters don't care at all how their slaves look or for their health, but I'm hoping he's just been wandering for a while rather than being mistreated.

He nods again and I lift him back into my arms. Once more using my foot to not only close the bathroom door behind me but open it in the first place. It's a talent.

I set him on the far end of the tub and turn on the water. I don't plug it yet so that he can finish undressing. He's clearly very weak and can't move easily on his own. I help him stand and pull the shorts off. There's no boxers to worry about.

He eases back into his sitting position and I plug the drain. The tub fills with warm water and he visibly relaxes.

"Let me know when you want me to wash you. Feel free to relax first for a few minutes okay?"

He shakes his head, wanting to get clean as soon as possible. I understand completely and grab the bar of soap. I don't bother letting him wash himself, no way can he when he's this weak.

I settle behind him to get his hair wet and wash it out, lathering it with the rose scented soap and rinsing it repeatedly until his hair is nice and clean again.

Once that's done I help him stand again to wash his body. It's a difficult task but he pushes through it with a little help of me holding him up.

I drain the tub as we finish and dry him off with a towel. He lets out a few squeaks when I wipe in some places due to the towel being anything but soft. I whisper an apology and reassure him that I'd buy some softer towels tomorrow.

It takes me a couple minutes to realise I'd just told him he could stay longer and I resist slapping my head in annoyance.

With my new annoyed mood taking over I'm not as gentle as I should be when I slide him under the covers in my room (The heated blanket is on, which makes up for my roughness just a bit).

He snuggles into the warmth pure relief floods his face. He curls into a ball under the blankets to make sure the warmth reaches his whole body.

I grab a loose and soft cotton t-shirt and some boxers for him to wear as PJ's for the night. Before crawling under the sheets to attempt to change him I just stare at him. Just a lump under my bed sheets.

Well a breathing lump.

Scratch that, a gasping for air lump.

I pull the covers back off of him and he whines pathetically, his cheeks, nose, the tips of his ears, and even his chest are turning pink from the warmth and from the lack of oxygen.

"You can't stay under the covers like that. You've got to keep your head out if you can't breathe." I tell him informatively, setting the boxers on the bed.

He just whines again and reaches desperately for the covers but I grab his hand and shake my head, showing him the shirt in my hand. "Put this on first okay?"

He eventually gives in and I pull it over his head, his messy locks of hair frizz out when the shirt goes over. I smooth it back over with my hand.

I get him to sit on the edge of the bed with his legs dangling off to get the boxers on him. He clutches his wound and keeps his eyes closed tight as I do. His upper half gives out the moment I finish.

After lifting his legs back onto the bed, I give him the heated blanket back and he relaxes again.

Despite the relaxation, something about the warmth of the heated blanket seems to give him more energy.

"I'm going to go get you some water to drink and something to eat—okay?" He gives an odd, throaty hum in response that is accompanied by a nod of understanding.

I make my way into the kitchen and fill a red Solo cup with cool water before hurrying back into the room.

It takes me fifteen seconds to spot him under the covers again. I lift the blanket up and I'm greeted with bright red cheeks that are blown up with air as he holds his breath.

He sputters as the air comes tumbling out of him, his chest heaves to bring more oxygen in as fast as it can as he smiles like an idiot.

"Stop doing that." I say firmly. "It's not safe." He gives me a look of confusion before taking in another big breath and pulling the covers back over his head with a thump.

"Hey! Quit it!" I struggle to pull the covers up for a moment but he's too weak to win and I pull them up. "Are you seriously that cold?"

He offers me another face of confusion before nodding his head. I just sigh as he climbs back to lay his head on the pillow.

"Hang on one second." I drop the covers onto him and he scrambles to pull them back up to his nose, luckily leaving it out to breathe.

I just sigh again as I walk into the living room. I have to shuffle through numerous boxes until I find the heating pads. I'm still not all the way unpacked after moving unfortunately and really need to get on it.

When I enter the room again, the idiot is back under the covers.

Filled with a seething annoyance that threatens to blow I pull the covers up, and throw the (now heating up) pads onto his face with a satisfying WACK! That I'd love to have on instant replay.

His deep inhale and throaty yelp of shock is music to my ears as I glare at him in annoyance.

He avoids my gaze like a child not wanting to be scolded and shoves the pads aside with a huff as he buries his face into the top pillow with a FLUMPH!. It's my favourite pillow, fitted with a custom green silk pillowcase.However it's not very breathable.

I guffaw in exhaustion as his cheeks slowly turn into the reds and pinks from before.

Jumping into action, done even thinking anything through I snag him by the collar of his shirt and pull him off the pillow. He lets out a gagging sound but I quickly release my grasp as I flip him over.

"Enough!" I declare, feeling like a vein is going to pop out of my forehead. "These pads can keep your cheeks warm okay? Like this." I lift them to his cheeks and press them to the still pink skin.

His eyes close and he instantly relaxes, any hints of defiance fade away from his expression as he makes himself pliant enough for me to move.

Not wanting to waste the opportunity, I slide him back under the covers and pull them up to his chin.

"Can I trust you to stay like this? And not go under anymore?"

Glassy eyes open a crack as he nods twice before closing them again.

I slide my fingers through his incredibly frazzled hair, making an attempt to tame it without much luck. "Sorry I hit you."

He just hums an alternating higher pitched sound I can only describe as 'Hmnn-Mmm'. He's said nothing since he arrived. Not a single word. Just sounds.

"What was that? I didn't understand it." Is my response, hoping he'll privilege me with a few words.

Without opening his eyes he slides one arm from under the continually warming blanket and immediately frowns, shuddering at the vast temperature difference.

He persists, however, and holds out his hand to me. I obediently slip my hand on top of his.

He responds by tapping the back of my hand a few times before flipping it over so the palm faces up. His fingers trace the sensitive skin with a delicacy I don't expect.

Finally, he seems satisfied with my hand and finds it worthy, so he starts spelling. The letters he draws with his pointer finger are wobbly and difficult to decode but I manage.

'Its ok I deserve it'

I chuckle gently at this and smile. "Yeah you kinda did." He continues tracing delicate and smudged letters onto my palm as I lace them together into words.

'I'm so impolite. I drive them away. I belong to the dogs.'

These sentences are jarring to say the least, unlike his prior response, the grammar and wording has no imperfections. It seems almost like a practised or drilled response.

When I look up from our hands his eyes are open. Open and fearfully icy. He quickly closes his eyes again as if afraid to face me so I act quickly.

"It's okay." I shoot back my reply, hoping to come up with some kind of plan to make him feel better. "We all deal with bad situations in different ways. I know you were just trying to hide in a warm spot, right?"

He slowly nods, turning to face me again. "I just don't want you to get hurt alright? And that includes suffocating to death. I promise you're safe here. My door is heavily locked and very strong. The walls are made of three layers of stone and an inner layer of wood in some areas. You can relax."

He slowly nods again, closing his eyes. His fingers tap against my hand again and I glance down for the message.

'Thank you. Sleep?'

I don't quite understand what he means by 'sleep?' So I take a wild guess. "You're welcome. Yes you can sleep."

'You?'

I don't know how to respond, not knowing what he's trying to say. This prompts him to once again, open his (now droopy) eyes and sit up.

He points to the bed, then to me and I understand a little better.

"I can sleep on the couch. Don't worry."

He shakes his head and his mane of hair shakes with it. It reminds me of a lion.

He taps the back of my palm again and I file it away in my brain as his signal that he wants to say something. I flip my palm over and he starts tracing more letters.

'You can sleep here, it's okay.'

His eyes are filled with a determined orange look that threatens to spill out of him. I feel certain enough to know that I'm not winning this argument. Not with someone this orange.

I just sigh and droop my head. "Okay, Fine. I'll sleep in the bed. But I actually have work to do first. And it has to get done."

He nods and closes his icy eyes one more time as I exit the room.

My office isn't messy, I'm a neat freak when it comes to my office. My sacred space.

It's just the many many unopened boxes that hide my tidy shelves and drawers. I've cleared a decent path through, shoved the boxes to the edge of the room.

The only boxes I'd opened were the ones containing my laptop, computer, and recent paperwork. My job requires a lot of paperwork and it's extremely exhausting to do. But I do it anyways.

Because I like my job. I do. I'm just not in the right position. I went to school for the hands on stuff, not secretary style scapegoat.

I'm the guy who sends people information when they request it. I'm one of the few people that have access to the data, so I collect it, write it down, and send it out.

I normally work the day shift of course, but two of the night shift workers called in sick and another is on maternity leave so I'm the one they always pick to do it.

I can always say no, but I really need the extra pay.

If I push myself I can get it down to 3 hours on a short day, but tonight is certainly going to take much longer than that.

I glance at the overbearing stack of files piled onto my desk and let out a groan of agony based on the workload.

I pull out the first file, one of around a dozen. Packed with request slips. I switch on my computer and start filling out the information.

Open paper, switch slide, write the requested info, repeat.

My eyes get droopy a few times but it's nothing that a strong cup of coffee doesn't fix.

As the night goes on, I end up grabbing an extra blanket to stay warm while I work, I sit in my rollie chair, huddled in a blanket with a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

I take a long drink from my mug before deciding to take a quick break. Maybe think about the Elf that's asleep in my bedroom.

So I do.

I don't think at all about how to find his owner, instead my mind wanders to ways to make it easy for him to talk to me.

An idea strikes my brain. Well two actually. Two separate ideas.

I'll get him a pad of paper and pen to write down replies

I'll give him the deck of cards with pictures on them to help him carry his point across easier. I bought them because I would use them for my job but I sadly don't have that job so I've never used them.

The first one is easy, I stand up, keeping my blanket wrapped around me like a hood and start rummaging through the various boxes strewn about the room.

Eventually I find a pad of paper and a good pen. I slide them both under my arm and tip-toe back to my room.

Using my phone as a flashlight I scribble a note on the top page.

'Good morning. This is for you. Use it whenever you need to ask me something and don't want to take the time to spell it on my hand. The cards should help too. Go ahead and look through them if you'd like. Maybe you can make a breakfast request?'

I smile at my note and set it on the end of the bed where I know he will see it.

Next the cards. It takes a bit more searching to find them but I do, setting them beside the notepad.

Satisfied with my solution, I return to my work.

[immacaria]

Of fangs and knives

  Hi again! So this is a mash-up of days 3 and 4: Snakes and Crime AU of Sangcheng december. Nie Huaisang is a naga, he can transform himself into fully human or fully snake and has been dating Jiang Cheng for five years now. They live with Wei Wuxian, who can turn himself into a bird, fully or partially. Jiang Cheng can’t transform himself into anything, but it doesn’t mean he is defenceless, you can’t be when you are the heir of one of the most powerful mafia’s clans. So, that’s it! Hope you enjoy it! 

  When Nie Mingjue was born, Qinghe threw a party that lasted three days, more than happy that their leaders had a child to bask in their love and happiness. When the Nie power couple decided to become the Nie power trio, marrying a gentle but strong village girl, Qinghe celebrated for three days. When the news that a new heir was to be expected that year, they screamed at the top of their lungs for three days. But, when the younger heir was born, a boy named Nie Huaisang, Qinghe did not throw parties nor screamed at the top of its lungs like before. Not when the newborn was such a monster, half human half snake. 

  They couldn’t understand how such evil could come from such good. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t possible. So the only reason possible to explain that was that the village girl was not a village girl, but an evil spirit that had fooled their poor leaders and crawled into their lives with no more intentions than to destroy all the good in their hearts. They were certain of that, but the Nie family didn’t seem affected by that, covering the newborn with love and gifts, like he was normal. The boy grew up gentle and caring, very much like his mother, and as soon as he started walking, or better crawling around with his upper body lifted by his lower body, everybody discovered that his tail could become human legs. 

  As he continued to grow up, more things were being discovered about him. 1. He could eject venom in whatever form he took, let it be totally human or just half. 2. He could transform himself in full snake, usually doing it to wrap himself around his older brother's neck and sleep while he trained. 3. His tail was fairly strong and so was his naga form, but his human form was weak, at least to Qinghe’s normal. 4. Nie Huaisang, despite all the fear in the beginning, had conquered everybody’s heart in his few years of living. 

  Even though he was showered with love and attention, Nie Huaisang’s life was surrendered by tragedy since the start. When he was two years old, Nie Heng, the mother of Nie Mingjue and wife of Nie Qiang and Nie LiMing, fell sick. At first it was just a cold, but it wouldn't go away and everybody started to get worried of what would happen to her if they didn't find a cute cure for that. All around people wanted to shelter both of the children of what could happen to Nie Heng, they somehow knew that their mother was sick and feeling bad. 

  After finishing training, Nie Mingjue would bring his baby brother and sit at his mother's bed to tell her about his days and the adventures that Nie Huaisang had got himself into. She would laugh out loud, back to herself for some moments, especially at the little adventures that they got themselves into when they were running away from a teacher or from Nie Qiang. They would wrap around her, Mingjue at her side and Huaisang on her chest, and sleep until one of their other parents got in the room and saw the scene. They would call the other and join the party too, cuddling their sons and wife. They all did everything in their power to make sure that Nie Heng was happy and received the best treatment existing, but nothing seemed to help her and by the end of the year, sadness had fallen on the Nie family’s house. 

  One year later, Nie LiMing was killed by the babysitter they hired to help them. She was one of the remaining people that still believed that both her and Nie Huaisang were evil spirits and everything bad that happened in Qinghe was their fault. But Nie LiMing wasn’t going to let her take the best and fought for hers and her son’s lifes. She fought back and wounded the assassin mortally, guaranteeing that both of her sons were going to be safe and sound even if she wasn’t there anymore to protect them from harm. She was buried with Nie Heng on the tomb of the Nie family. 

  It was a great blow on both the kids and Nie Qiang, their lives changed completely and dificultated by the fact that neither Nie Qiang nor Nie Mingjue trusted enough in anyone else to take care of the young Huaisang. They adapted to it, they made it work, not only for them but for Nie Huaisang and the memory of wives/mothers they lost. Nie Huaisang was raised by his brother and father, surrounded by love and affection, growing up with the stories of his mothers and getting to know them by those who remained. Even if there was that hollow, blank feeling of loss and sadness inside him, his brother and his father were there to alleviate and do what they could to let him know that both Nie Heng and Nie LiMing loved him to the moon and back. 

  The three of them lived happy and together for seven, almost eight years, before another tragedy struck at them again. Nie Mingjue was nineteen years old and Nie Huaisang was ten when Nie Mingjue got into college, making their father almost explode in pride and joy. Immediately, they booked a trip to celebrate it where they spend a whole week in a cozy cottage, doing whatever they wanted to do. They laughed, relaxed and joked around, laughing even when they were going back home. They were almost home when another car hit them with full force, right on the side that Nie Qiang was. 

  “A-Sang?” Jiang Cheng nudged Nie Huaisang’s head, waking him up. “It’s time to go. I solved what I had to.”

  “Wei-xiong?” Nie Huaisang lifted his head from the pillow, rubbing one of his eyes. 

  “Gone, already.” He answered, helping him get up. “You good to go? Or want to keep sleeping?” 

  “Last.” He yawned, holding his hands on his. 

  “My neck?” He chuckled, putting Nie Huaisang’s arms around his own neck. In response, Nie Huaisang only hummed in agreement and in a blink of eyes, there was a dark green snake circling his neck. “Obvious.” He chuckled again, getting both of their backpacks and leaving the room they were. They went to Lotus Pier to a family dinner between the Jiang siblings and a business meeting between Jiang Cheng and Jiang Fengmian. While his boyfriend was at the meeting, Nie Huaisang took the chance to sleep a little more. Since the death of his dad, Nie Mingjue was the one who did everything in his power to keep his little brother growing up safe and sound. He succeeded on his task to keep him well, but it too was known that he managed to spoil him to the ends of the earth and transform the Second Master Nie on a menace. Kidding, kidding. He was just a half of a menace. 

  “A-Cheng.” Nie Huaisang sibiled on his ear, lifting his head. “What do you want for dinner?” He saw Jiang Cheng put his earphones on, no music playing on them. 

  “No takeout.” Jiang Cheng answered, adjusting the snake on his neck. “I will make dinner, don’t worry. I’m thinking of boar. Or fish.”

  “I like them both.” He said, his tongue licking his earlobe jokingly. 

  "Stop that." 

  "You are cute."

  "And you a menace." 

  "A-Cheng." He screamed, buttheading his chew weakly and making him laugh quietly, soon Nie Huaisang was laughing too. They met when both of them were fourteen and had just arrived on Gusu to some summer classes they were giving and, gods, it was boring. But the presence of Jiang siblings made it more entertaining and bearable, especially because Wei Wuxian was like him, but in a bird version. Interesting enough, he enchanted himself with Lan Zhan and forgot about Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng, much to his entertainment. 

  Someway, between being acquaintances and then friends, soon turning into best friends, Nie Huaisang developed feelings for the other. Under that aggressive, scowling appearance, there was a sweet and caring boy and even under that one was more and more layers that made Jiang Cheng what he was. Yeah, there was a thing or another that wasn’t perfect or that Nie Huaisang didn’t agree with, but nobody was perfect, not even Jiang Cheng, not even Nie Mingjue. Who was the reason for them to start dating. 

  “What are you thinking about now?” Jiang Cheng said suddenly, sitting on a seat on the train. "I'm making dinner, stop thinking." 

  "I'm not Wei-xiong, I don't think about food twenty-fours per day." Nie Huaisang said, closing his eyes. 

  "Bold of you to think that my brother thinks about food twenty-four per day. He thinks about Lan Wangji twenty-four hours per day." He corrected him, closing his jacket, their backpacks between his legs. "It's horrible."

  "I think it's cute." He chuckled, looking around. There was a young woman bouncing a child in her legs, a group of teens with bright colours on their hair laughing out loud of some joking one of them said and two seats away of them were a man, almost as tall as Nie Mingjue, but slim and not-strong looking. Still, he was giving him bad vibes, especially with the way he kept looking between them and the group of teens. 

  "What the hell, A-Sang?" Jiang Cheng said, wrapping his hand around his mouth when he hissed at the man, showing his long, dropping-venom at him. "I'm sorry, sir. He's kind of stressed." He smiled at the man, pushing his head away. 

  "No problem, young man. Just try to keep it under control, yes?" The man said, smiling nervously while sleeping one seat away from them. But even if his mouth and face said he was nervous and afraid, his eyes show that he was furious and absolutely unpleased for the fact that people were now looking at him, including the group of teens he was observing. 

  “Yeah, sorry.” Jiang Cheng smiled back, too slipping away from him. 

  “I don’t like him. Bad vibes.” Nie Huaisang said, wrapping himself tighter around his neck. “He looks wrong.”

  “Sorry, Jiejie, A-Sang got a little crazy over here. You were saying?” He said, adjusting the earphones. What the hell was he saying? Had he gone crazy? “Don’t you know that Wei Wuxian always looks wrong? But, yeah, I think there’s something wrong.” Oh, there it was, he hadn’t gone crazy, he just was trying to throw off any attention that existed on them. “What about it?”

  “He was looking at the girls over there and at you too.” He said, looking back at the young girls. “He wasn’t looking distractly and he was looking way too interested in you.”

  “Yeah, I think so too. But what about it? I can’t exactly do something about it, can I?” 

  “You can protect yourself, distract him away from the girls.” 

  “You know, I think you are getting a little paranoid over there.” He got up when the train stopped. “But, at the same time, you aren’t so wrong.” He side-eyed the strange man as they passed by him. The train station wasn’t so far away from where they lived and maybe they would be able to get home without bigger incidents than earlier. At the least that’s what Jiang Cheng was hoping for as he dashed up the stairs, but he heard Nie Huaisang hiss again and knew that it wasn’t going to be an easy night for them. “Do I need to call Wei Wuxian or the cleaners?”

  “He is following us. Blood on his eyes. I think calling Wei-xiong is a good idea.” He answered, still looking at the man following him. 

  “Do you think you can take care of him alone? Or do you need help?” He looked above his shoulder, calculating how far away the man was from them. 

  “I don’t think so.” He hissed as Jiang Cheng turned on a corner, typing Wei Wuxian’s number away. Nie Huaisang unwrapped himself from his boyfriend’s neck slowly, aiming at the approaching man and as soon as he took out a knife, he jumped at his neck, biting his jugular. He heard the desperate and scared screams of a man who was not ready to meet death yet as Jiang Cheng pulled the knife from him, getting behind him and shoving it at the front base of his neck, a deep ugly cut being open. He jumped into the air, his feet meeting the ground with a weak thump. “Is he dead?” 

  “If he isn’t, he is going to be very soon.” Jiang Cheng shrugged, sticking the knife to the guy’s shoulders. “Wei Wuxian said that we can go, he’s on his way.” 

  “Okay, then.” He turned around, licking his lips and feeling the distinctive flavour of blood and his own venom on his mouth. “You okay there?” He enlaced their fingers as they walked to their apartment side by side. 

   “It should be me asking you that. How much venom did you distill?” Jiang Cheng said, kissing their fingers. 

  “Not much, just enough to paralyze him and kill him slowly.” He answered, feeling himself blush. “I still don’t get how you like me.”

  “Ready back at you.” He scowled, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go home, I’m hungry.” And to their house they went, hearing a fading flapping of wings behind them.

[aion-rsa]

Best Horror Movies on Netflix: Scariest Films to Stream

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Editor’s Note: This post is updated monthly. Bookmark this page to see what the best horror movies on Netflix are at your convenience.

Is it Halloween when you’re reading this? If not we’re still close enough with fall here and the month of October almost upon us! It’s the time of year where we like our drinks spiced with pumpkin or apple, our flannel light, and the movies we consume scary. And lucky for you there are more than a handful of worthwhile scary movies on Netflix.

There is nothing quite as fun as embracing the spooky, the creepy, the scary, and things that go bump in the night. Thankfully we have horror movies to help us down these paths. If you ever find yourself in need of a thrill or a chill, check out some of the best horror movies on Netflix, we’ve gathered here.

Enjoy your tricks and treats.

Looking for the best horror movies on Netflix UK? Click here!

As Above, So Below

We know what you might be thinking: a found footage horror movie? Yes, this was one of the later adherents to a genre craze that got run into the ground during the 2000s and early 2010s. However, As Above, So Below is the rare thing: effectively creepy. With a crackerjack premise about the real Catacombs of Paris being a secret gateway to Hell, the film casts an energetic Perdita Weeks as a modern day Indiana Jones in a Go-Pro helmet. She and her colleagues make the unwise choice to go off the tourist-guided path in the catacombs, which is home to the remains of more than 6 million people who died between the early middle ages and 18th century.

But once deep below the City of Lights, the film’s dwindling protagonists find themselves crawling beneath a wall with the words “Abandon all Hope Ye Who Enter.” And things just get bleak from there. This is a ghoulish good-time for those who are willing to indulge in the gimmick storytelling.

Apostle

Apostle comes from acclaimed The Raid director Gareth Evans and is his take on the horror genre. Spoiler alert: it’s a good one.

Dan Stevens stars as Thomas Richardson, a British man in the early 1900s who must rescue his sister, Jennifer, from the clutches of a murderous cult. Thomas successfully infiltrates the cult led by the charismatic Malcom Howe (Michael Sheen) and begins to ingratiate himself with the strange folks obsessed with bloodletting. Thomas soon comes to find that the object of the cult’s religious fervor may be more real than he’d prefer.

The Blackcoat’s Daughter

Some kids dream about being left overnight or even a week at certain locations to play, like say a mall or a Chuck E. Cheese. One place that no one wants to be left alone in, however, is a Catholic boarding school.

That’s the situation that Rose (Lucy Boynton) and Kat (Kiernan Shipka) find themselves in in the atmospheric and creepy The Blackcoat’s Daughter. When Rose and Kat’s parents are unable to pick them up for winter break, the two are forced to spend the week at their dingy Catholic boarding school. If that weren’t bad enough, Rose fears that she may be pregnant…oh, and the nuns might all be Satanists.

The Blackcoat’s Daughter is an excellent debut directorial outing from Oz Perkins and another step on the right horror path for scream queens Shipka and Emma Roberts.

The Evil Dead

1981’s The Evil Dead is nothing less than one of the biggest success stories in horror movie history.

Written and directed on a shoestring budget by Sam Raimi, The Evil Dead uses traditional horror tropes to its great advantage, creating a scary, funny, and almost inconceivably bloody story about five college students who encounter some trouble in a cabin in the middle of the woods. That trouble includes the unwitting release of a legion of demons upon the world.

The Evil Dead rightfully made stars of its creator and lead Bruce Campbell. It was also the jumping off point for a successful franchise that includes two sequels, a remake, a TV show, and more.

Gerald’s Game

We are living in a renaissance for Stephen King adaptations. But while there have been many killer clowns and hat-wearing fiends getting major attention at the multiplexes, the best King movie in perhaps decades is Mike Flanagan’s underrated Gerald’s Game. Cleverly adapted from what has been described as one of King’s worst stories, Gerald’s Game improves on its source material when it imagines a middle-aged woman (Carla Gugino) placed in a terrifying survival situation after her husband (Bruce Greenwood) dies of a heart attack during a sex game.

Read more

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15 Best Stephen King Movies

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The Shining: 5 Things Jack Torrance Taught Us About Social Distancing and Quarantine

By David Crow

Handcuffed to a bed in their remote cabin in the woods, Gugino’s Jessie must face the fact no one is coming to save her in the next week… more than enough time to die of dehydration or the wolf prowling about. Thus the specter of death hovers over the whole movie, seemingly literally with a monstrous shade emerging from the shadows to bedevil Jessie each night. A trenchant character study that frees Gugino to show a wide range of terror, determination, and finally horrifying desperation, the movie delves into the shadows of a woman haunted by trauma and demons almost as scary as her current situation. Almost.

The Gift

Who knew Joel Edgerton had it in him?

The Gift is the Australian actor’s writing and directing debut and it doesn’t disappoint. Edgerton stars as Gordon “Gordo” Mosely. He’s a nice enough middle-aged man if a little “off.” One day while shopping he runs into an old high school classmate Simon (Jason Bateman) and his wife Robyn (Rebecca Hall). After their brief encounter, Gordo takes it upon himself to start dropping off little gifts to Simon and Robyn’s home. Robyn sees no problem with it at first. But Simon becomes disturbed, perhaps because of the unique past Simon and Gordo share.

Many horror movies understand there must be a twist of some sort or at the very least an unexpected third act. Even still The Gift‘s third act switch up is particularly devastating because it’s so mundane and logical. The Gift ends up being an emotional drama disguised as horror.

The Girl with All the Gifts

Just when you thought there was nothing left to be done with the zombie genre, in comes a shocking and original idea… one that has sadly grown only more scary in 2020 with regards to The Girl with All the Gifts. A brilliant little indie from Colm McCarthy, this underrated gem imagines a zombie apocalypse as something closer to a viral pandemic that lasts for generations…. and one where a vaccine is always just out of reach.

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Evil Dead Movies: The Most Soul Sucking Moments

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Zombie Comedies Ranked

By David Crow

Thus enters the class of Helen Justineau (Gemma Arterton). Years after a fungal infection ravaged the planet, turning the infected into “hungries” (breathing zombies), their offspring have shown a creepy ability to retain the ability to think, learn, and love… even as they crave living flesh.

Hence the students in Helen’s class, including her favorite Melanie (Sennia Nanua). The child is special… too much so when it’s believed her biology could create a vaccine that would spare anymore humans turning “hungry.” But to harvest her body, the military will drag Helen and Melanie through an urban hellscape which has reduced London to an abandoned refuge for Hungries and feral children who likewise hunt uninfected humans for food.

The Golem

The Golem is such an awesome monster from Jewish mythology that it’s hard to believe they don’t make more movies about him. Well now they have. The Golem isn’t a straight-up remake of the 1915 movie of the same name so much as it is the next step in the evolution of this grim mythological beast.

During the outbreak of a plague, Hanna (Hani Furstenberg) will do whatever it takes to defend her community from outside invaders. Unfortunately, and in true fairy tale fashion, the creature she conjures up to defend her community quickly develops a murderous mind of its own.

Green Room

Green Room is a shockingly conventional horror movie despite not having all of the elements we traditionally associate with them. You won’t find any monsters or the presence of the supernatural in Green Room.

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31 Best Horror Movies to Stream

By Alec Bojalad and 1 other

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The 13 Best Horror Movie Themes

By David Crow

Instead all monsters are replaced by vengeful neo-Nazis and the haunted house is replaced by a skinhead punk music club in the middle of nowhere in the Oregon woods. The band, The Aint Rights, led by bassist Pat (Anton Yelchin) are locked in the green room of a club after witnessing a murder and must fight their way out.

Horns

A horror vintage for a distinctly acquired taste, Alexandre Aja’s Horns is a bizarre fairy tale for adults. As much a revenge fable as a typical chiller, this movie which put “Harry Potter in Devil Horns” is actually something of a grim love story based on a novel by Joe Hill.

Daniel Radcliffe plays Ig Perrish, an outcast in his local community who wants nothing more than to forever be by the side of his lifelong love Merrin (Juno Temple). After her brutal unsolved murder prevents that, Ig swears he’d sell his soul to get revenge.

Funny thing is the day after he makes such a proclamation, horns begin growing from his forehead. The greater they grow, the easier it is to get sinners around him to confess their most hidden shames, and indulge in others. But with the clock ticking before he becomes a full-fledged demon, and his soul is presumably claimed by Beelzebub, there is only a narrow window before he can get revenge while raising a little hell.

Hush

In his follow-up to the cult classic Oculus, Mike Flanagan makes one of the more clever horror movies on this list. Hush is a thrilling game of cat-and-mouse within the typical nightmare of a home invasion, yet it also turns conventions of that familiar terror on its head.

For instance, the savvy angle about this movie is Kate Siegel (who co-wrote the movie with Flanagan) plays Maddie, a deaf and mute woman living in the woods alone. Like Audrey Hepburn’s blind woman from the progenitor of home invasion stories, Wait Until Dark (1967), Maddie is completely isolated when she is marked for death by a menacing monster in human flesh.

Like the masked villains of so many more generic home invasion movies (I’m looking square at you, Strangers), John Gallagher Jr.’s “Man” wears a mask as he sneaks into her house. However, the functions of this story are laid bare since we actually keep an eye on what the “Man” is doing at all times, and how he is getting or not getting into the house in any given scene. He isn’t aided by filmmakers who’ve given him faux-supernatural and omnipotent abilities like other versions of these stories, and he’s not an “Other;” he’s a man who does take his mask off, and his lust for murder is not so much fetishized as shown for the repulsive behavior that it is. And still, Maddie proves to be both resourceful and painfully ill-equipped to take him on in this tense battle of wills.

Insidious

Insidious is the start of a multi-film horror franchise and a pretty good one at that. Patrick Wilson and Rose Byrne star as a married couple who move into a new home with their three kids. Shortly after they move in, their son Dalton is drawn to a shadow in the attic and then falls into a mysterious coma from which they can’t wake him.

It’s at this point that the Lamberts do what horror fans always yell at characters to do: they move out of the damn house! Little do they know, however, that some hauntings go beyond mere domiciles.

The Invitation

Seeing your ex is always uncomfortable, but imagine if your ex-wife invited you to a dinner party with her new husband? That is just about the least creepy thing in this taut thriller nestled in the Hollywood Hills.

Indeed, in The Invitation Logan Marshall-Green’s Will is invited by his estranged wife (Tammy Blanchard) for dinner with her new hubby David (Michael Huisman of Game of Thrones). David apparently wanted to extend the bread-breaking offer personally since he has something he wants to invite both Will and all his other guests into joining. And it isn’t a game of Scrabble…

It Comes at Night

Surviving the apocalypse comes with a certain amount of questions. For starters, what do you do after you survive a global pandemic thanks to your secluded cabin in the woods…and then someone comes knocking? That’s the situation that the family consisting of Paul (Joel Edgerton), Sarah (Carmen Ejogo), and Travis (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) find themselves in in It Comes at Night.

Read more

TV

Best Horror TV Shows on Netflix

By Alec Bojalad

TV

Best Horror TV Shows on Hulu

By Alec Bojalad

When Paul and his family come across another family in the woods seeking shelter and water, they hesitantly welcome them in. But this soon proves to be a dangerous decision. Having guests in the real world is annoying enough to deal with and it only becomes harder when you suspect that any one of them could be sick with a highly-contagious, utterly fatal illness.

Paranormal Activity

Ignore the sequels. Yes, you know they’re bad and we know they’re bad. But long before “the Ghost Dimension” (whatever the hell that means), there was this eerie surprise hit that started it all. A movie which was estimated to be the most profitable movie of all time in its day–earning $193.4 million worldwide on a budget of $15,000–Paranormal Activity put Blumhouse Productions on the map and is still a supremely affecting piece of atmosphere.

Presented as the true story of a young, and not wholly likable, couple (Katie Featherston and Micah Sloat), the film follows the pair as they attempt to document the bumps they’re hearing in the house at night–only to discover a demonic presence and some repressed memories for one party. A still brilliant exercise in sound design, tension, and the uncanny ability to trick audiences into believing what they’re seeing is actually happening, this remains the best found footage horror movie ever made.

Poltergeist

Before there was Insidious, The Conjuring, or a myriad of other “suburban family vs. haunted house” movies, there was Poltergeist. Taking ghost stories out of the Gothic setting of ancient castles or decrepit mansions and hotels, Poltergeist moved the spirits into the middle class American heartland of the 1980s. With a smart screenplay by no less than Steven Spielberg (and, according to some, his ghost direction), Poltergeist finds the Freeling family privy to a disquieting fact about their new home: It’s built on top of a cemetery!

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TV

The Best Haunted House Movies and TV Shows of All Time

By Sarah Dobbs

Movies

How Annabelle Comes Home Fits into The Conjuring Universe

By Don Kaye

You probably know the story, and if you don’t you can guess it after decades of copycats that followed, but this special effects-laden spectacle still holds up, especially as a thriller that can be enjoyed by the whole family. Fair warning though, if your kids have a tree outside their window or a clown doll under their bed, we don’t take responsibility for the years of therapy bills this may inflict!

Red Dragon

The often overlooked other child of the Hannibal Lecter movie family, Red Dragon is no The Silence of the Lambs, no matter how much it wishes it was. Nor is it as visually evocative or luscious as Ridley Scott’s decadent Hannibal. Nevertheless, we find this prequel to both films to be at least worthy of association with the former, and ultimately more satisfying than the latter. A definite attempt to reshape Thomas Harris’ first novel to feature the Lecter character into a Silence of the Lambs clone, Red Dragon still has quite a bit to enjoy.

At the top of the list is of course Sir Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal for the third and final time. Definitely his hammiest iteration of the character, even a campy Hopkins is impossible to resist given the not-so-good doctor’s droll wit or distinct taste palate. Director Brett Ratner’s framing around Lecter is competent enough, and he wisely gets a superb supporting cast who can overwhelm any shortcomings.

Edward Norton is a compelling lead FBI detective; Philip Seymour Hoffman is delightfully repellent as a tabloid journalist who suffers a terrifying fate; and Ralph Fiennes roars as the serial killer who inflicts that fate on Hoffman. It may be no Manhunter–Michael Mann’s first adaptation of the source novel–but Red Dragon‘s the one on Netflix. So love the one you’re with!

The Silence of the Lambs

If you are only going to watch one Hannibal Lecter movie, this is the all-time masterpiece which remains the sole horror movie to win an Oscar for Best Picture. An absolutely gripping thriller even 30 years later, Jonathan Demme’s movie is an all-time great because of stellar performances and a sharp screenplay told by an even sharper eye.

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Movies

The Silence of the Lambs: A Thinking Person’s Monster Movie

By Ryan Lambie

Movies

Best Horror Movies on Hulu

By Alec Bojalad and 1 other

Here is the movie that kicked off the serial killer craze in Hollywood during the ’90s. Yet more than the gory details, what lingers in the mind are little things like an opening sequence that introduces Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) as the lone woman on an elevator full of FBI ubermensches, or the way Anthony Hopkins breaks his unrelenting stare to mispronounce “Chianti” with dripping disdain for the Yokel sent to interview him. Every facet of this movie works, and thus it hasn’t aged a day. We do recommend watching it with a side of fava beans, though.

Sinister

One of the better Blumhouse chillers to come out of the 2010s, Sinister is the case of a brilliant elevator pitch meeting a superior pair of talents in director Scott Derrickson and star Ethan Hawke to bring it to life.

The setup of the movie is simple: There is a pagan demon god who will consume the soul of any nearby children whenever someone sees him. And not just him, but recreations of his image on walls. And wouldn’t you know it, true crime journalist Ellison (Hawke) just moved into a house with an attic full of home movies stuffed to the gills with Bughuul. And Ellison’s daughter is right downstairs. Uh oh.

Sleepy Hollow

As much a comedy as a horror film, Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow should always be on the table when discussing October viewing options. After all, this demented reimagining of Washington Irving’s classic short story, “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” never forgets the selling point is to have them rolling in the aisles. And more than a few heads do just that.

As a film with the most varied and imaginative uses of decapitation, Sleepy Hollow cuts a bloody path across Upstate New York. In fact, despite its American setting, we might as well confess what Sleepy Hollow really is: a modern version of a Hammer horror movie.

Burton incorporates all of his favorite tropes here: The intentionally stuffy faux-British acting (even though all the characters are of Dutch descent); the exaggerated and formal clothing; more than a few heaving bosoms; and lots and lots of gore. This film is so perfectly macabre and gleefully grotesque that you might even be forgiven for not noticing at first glance how dryly funny and deadpan a place this Sleepy Hollow tends to be.

Splice

What if Dr. Frankenstein banged his monster? That is just one of several creepy elements to Splice, a weird psychosexual sci-fi/horror hybrid. Directed by Vincenzo Natali and starring Adrien Brody and Sarah Polley as the world’s worst scientists, Splice follows two not-so-smart doctors who attempt to play God by creating an entire new species of creature they name Dren (Delphine Chanéac).

Read more

Books

Frankenstein Adaptations Are Almost Never Frankenstein Adaptations

By Kayti Burt

Movies

Best Horror Movies Streaming on HBO Max

By David Crow and 2 others

At first a computer-generated child with alien eyes and a roping tail, Dren soon grows from girl to young woman, seducer to… well, something even more unexpected. Weird, unpleasant, and ultimately unshakable like that one bad dream, Splice plays with ideas of identity, gender, and parenthood.

Sweetheart

Don’t let the name fool you, Sweetheart is very much a horror movie. What kind of horror movie, you ask? Well, after a boat sinks during a storm, young Jennifer Remming (Kiersey Clemons) is the only survivor. She washes ashore a small island and gets to work burying her friends, creating shelter, and foraging for food. You know: deserted island stuff.

Soon, however, Jenn will come to find that the island is not as deserted as she previously thought. There’s something out there – something big, dangerous, and hungry. Sweetheart is like Castaway meets Predator and it’s another indie horror hit for Blumhouse.

Tucker and Dale vs. Evil

Tucker and Dale vs. Evil is a fantastic little satire on the horror genre that, in a similar fashion to Scream, is packed with laughs, gore, and a bit of a message. When a group of preppy college students head out to the backwoods for a camping trip, they stumble upon two good-natured good ol’ boys that they mistake for homicidal hillbillies.

Their quick, off-the-mark judgment of Tucker and Dale lead to these snobs getting themselves into sticky, often bloody, and hilariously over-the-top situations. Tucker and Dale vs. Evil rides a one-joke premise to successful heights and teaches audiences to not judge a book by its cover.

Under the Shadow

This 2016 effort could not possibly be more timely as it sympathizes, and terrorizes, an Iranian single mother and child in 1980s Tehran. Like a draconian travel ban, Shideh (Narges Rashidi) and her son Dorsa (Avin Manshadi) are malevolently targeted by a force of supreme evil.

Read more

Movies

How Jason Blum Changed Horror Movies

By Rosie Fletcher

Movies

The 13 Best Final Girls in Horror Movie History

By David Crow

This occurs after Dorsa’s father, a doctor, is called away to serve the Iranian army in post-revolution and war-torn Iran. In his absence evil seeps in… as does a quality horror movie with heightened emotional weight.

Underworld

No one is going to mistake Underworld for high art. That obvious fact makes the lofty pretensions of these movies all the more endearing. With a cast of high-minded British theatrical actors, many trained in the Royal Shakespeare Company, at least the early movies in this Gothic horror/action mash-up series were overflowing with histrionic self-importance and grandiosity.

Take the first and best in the series. In the margins you have Bill Nighy and Michael Sheen portraying the patriarchs of warring factions of vampires and werewolves, and a love story caught between their violence that’ shamelessly modeled on Romeo and Juliet. It’s ridiculous, especially with Scott Speedman playing one party. But when the other is the oft-underrated Kate Beckinsale it doesn’t matter.

The movie’s bombast becomes the movie’s first virtue, and Len Wiseman’s penchant for glossy slick visuals, which would look at home in the sexiest Eurotrash graphic novel at the bookstore, is its other. Combined they make this a guilty good time. Though we recommend not venturing past the second or third movie.

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[cakesunflower]

Reach For You [Dad!Calum AU] Ch. 13

Previous Chapters: 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

WAKING UP ON the morning of the twenty-eighth, Aspen immediately felt a smile growing on her lips despite the alarm waking her up as she turned to her side, eyes landing on the man sleeping to her right and the little girl in between them. Shutting off the alarm, Aspen put her phone back on the bedside table before propping herself up on her shoulder, looking down at her sleeping daughter, curls that matched her father’s all over the place.

“Luna,” Aspen murmured, fingers pushing back her hair. She could feel Calum stirring in his sleep as well, tattooed left arm thrown over his eyes as he gently moved. “Hey, birthday girl. Time to wake up.”

Luna stirred, her eyebrows furrowing together yet eyes remaining closed, and Aspen let out a breathless laugh when she turned to press herself into Calum’s bare side, her arm spread across his bare torso as much as it could. The smile on Aspen’s face grew as Calum crawled out of his slumber, arm lifting from his eyes as his fingers lazily raked through his hair to push them back before it came down to wrap around Luna.

“Baby,” Aspen let out a light laugh, trying not to acknowledge her heart melting at the sight in front of her. This wasn’t the first time the three of them were in bed together—ever since she and Calum got back together a week or so ago—but it still made Aspen feel warm and fuzzy and all the good fucking things. Her fingers teased Luna’s stomach, trying to pull her from Calum’s side. “You gotta wake up, bub. Time to get ready for school.”

Luna mumbled sleepily, incoherently, whining her displeasure and Aspen chuckled, especially when Luna tried to bury herself in Calum’s side once again. “Come on, bub. I’ll make you some birthday waffles, yeah?” Luna frowned sleepily and Aspen’s gaze flickered to Calum, who was now awake and whose tired, brown eyes were on her. He smiled at her sleepily, cheeks flushed and adorable, and Aspen shot him a look as she pulled herself up from the bed. “Get her up, yeah? I’m gonna make her breakfast.”

Calum nodded, his hand lifting and using a single finger to motion Aspen towards him in a come hither gesture. Aspen smiled, carefully leaning over Luna as Calum lifted himself up slightly to meet Aspen’s lips in a soft, quick morning kiss.

Leaving the bed, Aspen tied her hair up into a bun and used the bathroom before going to the kitchen to get started on Luna’s breakfast, putting on a pot of coffee for her and Calum. A smile was on her face, her heart light at the fact that it was her daughter’s fifth birthday. For five years Aspen’s been blessed with her little one, and it was just so wonderfully exciting and, well, emotional.

Not to mention this was Calum’s first birthday with her, so it made things all the more heart warming.

By the time the waffles were done, Calum was entering the kitchen in nothing but a pair of pajama pants with Luna settled on his hip, Duke’s paws clattering on the floor as he followed them since Calum had brought the little dog over after asking Aspen’s permission. It was Friday, technically Calum’s day with Luna, but Aspen told him to sleep over so they could start Luna’s birthday with him—which Calum had appreciated.

Placing the plate in front of a seated Luna, Aspen cupped her daughter’s cheeks before pressing kisses all over her face, smiling when Luna giggled. “Happy, happy, happy birthday, bubba,” Aspen bubbled happily. “You’re such a big girl now!”

Calum grinned, fond and adoring as he kissed the top of Luna’s head. “Excited for your party tonight?”

Luna nodded enthusiastically, all signs of sleep washing away as her green eyes lit up at the mention of her party. “Yeah!” She looked at both of her parents. “Ice cream cake?”

Aspen chuckled as Calum walked around to the coffee maker, pouring the drink into two cups. “Yes, ma’am,” she assured as Calum handed her a cup.

The two of them joined Luna at the table as she happily ate her waffles. Looking at Aspen, Calum checked, “So I’m pickin’ up the cake from Berkley’s after goin’ to the airport, right?”

Aspen nodded, swallowing her sip. “Yeah. Just bring it back here and then we’ll take it whenever we leave for the party.”

Calum snapped his fingers with a point at Aspen in confirmation, sipping his coffee and feeling his lips curve at the sight of Luna eating. She was five years old today. Five. And it was his first birthday celebrating with her, so Calum already knew to expect the plethora of emotions that would be bombarding him throughout the day.

He had booked one of those indoor playgrounds for kids in town, the nicest one, for Luna’s birthday party after showing her pictures and seeing how excited she was for it. Aspen sent the invitations out to all of Luna’s friends, with every single one responding with a yes. Today was also the day Luna and Mali, Calum’s older sister, would be meeting for the first time, and he was kind of nervous.

A few days after he and Aspen got back together—a little over a week ago—Calum called up his older sister and told her everything that had happened since he arrived to New York. Every single detail was told to Mali, and his sister listened to everything he had to say. Mali had not been involved in what his mother had done, had actually been really fond of Aspen, so once she found out the truth through Calum, she was completely in shock and horrified about what happened. She’d also harbored some resentment for Aspen, believing she had left her brother just like Calum had, but once the truth was told, Mali was ready to give the green eyed woman a tight hug. And meet her niece.

Aspen, of course, was completely okay with it—she’d made it known that she missed Mali since Calum’s sister was one of the few people to make her feel wanted and comfortable. Luna was beyond thrilled to meet her aunt.

Once Luna was finished with breakfast, Calum got her ready for school since he didn’t get to do that much, and Aspen got ready for work. After a quick body shower and putting on her scrubs, she left the room as she tied her hair, stepping out just in time to see Luna happily skip out of her room fully dressed with her hair tied into a pretty braid, Calum walking out from behind the five year old with her backpack in hand.

Aspen grinned at him as Luna ran to the living room, the special day buzzing her nerves, Duke following behind her. “Quite the hair stylist, huh?” she teased, nudging her boyfriend’s bare side as he snorted out a chuckle.

“You can thank Mali for that,” he said as they reached the living room, where Luna’s giggles were ringing throughout the apartment as she and Duke giddily chased each other around. Both Aspen and Calum found themselves stopping, eyes on their daughter and fond smiles on their faces, and Aspen knew if she spent another moment just admiring Luna, she’d burst into tears. She couldn’t believe Luna was already five. “Hey.” Calum’s voice had her breaking out of her thoughts and looking at him. There was a small frown on his face, appearing worried. “You sure you want the boys there today?”

Letting out a breath, Aspen’s shoulders sank in mild exasperation as she looked up at Calum. This had been something he’d been worrying about for days since they started planning Luna’s birthday party. Truthfully, no one quite yet knew about the two of them getting back together, except for Jodie and Mali, who Calum had told through FaceTime had been relieved that his sister was supportive. It’s not like their relationship was something to hide, but so much had happened and their families and his friends had their opinions, so they wanted to be careful on how they’d let them know.

They also wanted to make sure should anyone find out, it wouldn’t be in front of Luna. Neither Calum nor Aspen trusted anyone to control their potentially negative reactions in front of their daughter, and while the two of them didn’t care what everyone else thought, they didn’t want Luna to witness their reactions. They didn’t want their five year old to think something bad of her parents’ relationship, blissfully and obviously unaware of the shit storm they’d just worked through. They had only just gotten back together—dealing with everyone’s reactions and opinions wouldn’t be fun.

“Yes, Calum, it’s fine,” Aspen assured him for the dozenth time, laughing lightly. Of course they’d invited Calum’s best friends to Luna’s birthday party, since she wanted all of her uncles there, and they were more than excited to come. “I can deal with them. It’s you I’m worried about.”

Many of Aspen’s family members were going to be there; her mother included, driving in from Pennsylvania where she lived with Aspen’s grandparents. One of her mother’s brothers lived in California, while the other lived in Canada, so their families weren’t going to be able to make it, obviously. Which, honestly, was kind of a relief. Not everyone knew of the circumstances of the end of Aspen and Calum’s relationship back in the day, and Aspen wasn’t quite prepared to explain everything to them. Her mother and grandparents knew he was back in the picture, had been wary yet understanding after Aspen filled them in on everything. But still, no one knew the two of them had rekindled their relationship, and she wanted to keep it that way for a bit. Today was all about Luna, and she just hoped no one gave Calum any shit tonight.

Calum smiled fondly, right arm lifting to hook around Aspen’s neck to pull her closer, their fronts pressing together as he peered down at her. “I’ll be fine,” he reassured confidently, smiling as Aspen reached her hand up to tangle her fingers with Calum’s hand hanging over her shoulder. “Kind of banking on everyone being civilized for Luna’s birthday, but even so, I think it’ll be fine.”

Aspen returned his smile, feeling a bit of relief at how confident he looked and seemed, effectively calming her down. Things between Calum and Richie were still rocky, and now Calum was going to see her mother and grandparents, which Aspen was justifiably nervous about. She knew her mom, knew she wasn’t going to start anything, but the entire situation was understandably nerve wracking.

Ultimately, she wanted today to be perfect. She wanted that for Luna—and for Calum. For them to spend the first birthday together happily and perfectly.

“Mama! We’re gonna be late!” Luna’s voice garnered her parents’ attention, already standing by the door and bouncing on her heels.

With a laugh, Aspen looked back at Calum before stepping on her toes, and he dipped his head enough to meet her halfway and press a kiss to her lips. It was swift and sweet, though still emitted a giggle from Luna that had Aspen and Calum smiling against each other’s lips before pulling away. “I’ll see you later,” Aspen smiled before taking Luna’s backpack from him, his arm dropping away a moment later. “Lunes, say bye to dad.”

She ran over to give him a hug as Aspen grabbed her purse and keys, giving Duke a quick rub before heading towards the door as Luna followed. To Calum, Aspen said, “Spare keys are in the drawer next to the fridge.”

Calum nodded as Aspen opened the door. “Got it, Mama.”

A smirk tilted on Aspen’s lips as she allowed Luna to exit the apartment, before looking over her shoulder as her green eyes locked with Calum’s brown. And then, with a sly wink, she bid, “Bye, Daddy.”

The slack jawed, wide eyed look on Calum’s face was priceless.

                                                              *****

“D’you reckon she’ll like me?”

Calum wanted to laugh at his sister’s question, wanting to inquire back who couldn’t like Mali? But instead he just smiled, bumping her shoulder with his with his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket as he assured, “She’ll love you, don’t worry.”

The shrill sound of the last bell sounded through the courtyard, and soon enough the students of the elementary school came pouring out of the various exits. A smile sprouted on Calum’s lips at the sight of Luna running out from the usual door, her winter jacket making her look like an adorable marshmallow, and when Calum pointed his little girl out, Mali let out a soft and breathy, “oh, wow,” as Luna came running up to them.

“Hey, bug,” Calum grinned, crouching down to be at eye level with his girl, “How was school?”

“Good.” Luna nodded happily. She was generally a happy kid, but Calum knew the extra excitement came from the fact that it was her birthday. “My friends are excited for the party,” she added with a wider grin, before her eyes flickered to the woman standing next to her father’s crouching figure.

Calum glanced up at his sister, who was smiling down at Luna with a warm gaze that made Calum melt. “Lunes, I want you to meet someone.” At that, Mali crouched down as well as Luna’s shy gaze swept over to her once more. “This is my big sister—your Aunt Mali.”

At that, Calum watched as some of Luna’s shyness was replaced with wonder, before smiling brightly. She then waved at Mali with a happy, “Hi! Are you coming to my birthday party?”

Calum chuckled breathily, feeling his heart soar a bit in his chest as Mali’s own smile widened. “Am I invited?” she asked, a teasing tilt in her voice. Luna nodded, giggling, and Mali beamed. “Then I would be honored.”

The three of them then went to where Calum parked the car, settling inside as Calum started the vehicle. Looking at Luna from the rearview mirror, Calum told her, “Okay, baby. We’re gonna pick up your cake and then go home to relax for a bit before your party. Sound good?”

When Luna shot him two thumbs up, Calum snorted out a laugh before pulling out of the parking lot. He put on Luna’s playlist, earning an amused yet fond smile from his sister, and they drove in silence besides the music playing and Luna’s quiet humming from the back.

A few moments later, Mali asked, “So things between you and Aspen are good?”

“Yeah,” Calum responded with a small upwards tug of his lips, eyes on the road. “It’s kind of like we’re pickin’ up where we left off but at the same time. . . It’s different.”

“A good different?”

Calum’s eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, catching sight of Luna and feeling his heart ridiculously skip a beat. “A great different.”

Mali smiled, seeing the contentment on her brother’s face. But then her grin faltered as she said, “I talked to Mum after you told me everything. She—”

He bristled in his seat before cutting her off. “I don’t want to talk about her.” His voice was quiet yet firm, a warning tone present that had Mali pressing her lips together. “Not today, Mal. Today’s going to be perfect and talking about that is just going to pi—” He stopped himself, gaze flickering to the rearview mirror where he caught sight of his five year old bopping her head and staring out the window. Calum inhaled deeply, grip on the steering wheel tightening. “Just—not today, okay?”

Mali nodded in understanding, lips pursed. “Okay.” Then, more enthusiastically, she asked, “So Luna—who’s your favorite Disney princess?”

Calum relaxed at the change of conversation, absently listening to his sister and daughter converse as he drove. But his mind was on his mum now, thanks to Mali. Nothing had been resolved with her; she left after that day at the hotel room, and Calum hadn’t spoken to her since. There was a dull, consistent ache in his chest at the strained relationship, ever one to be so cold and distant with his mother. He didn’t like it, but forgiving her wasn’t he could bring himself to do yet. It had taken him a while to forgive Aspen, but his mum did what she did out of spite for Aspen, no matter what she insisted on doing it out of love for Calum. He couldn’t grasp that; who did something like that out of love? The more he dwelled on it, the more his head hurt. It didn’t make any sense.

                                                                *****

Seeing the rest of Aspen’s family again had been tense, to say the least. Of course her mother and grandparents knew of Calum’s presence in Aspen and Luna’s lives, but they had yet to actually see him once more, and they greeted him with somewhat strained smiles—except for Aspen’s grandmother, who’d always been kind and welcoming and warm and didn’t show Calum any different.

They weren’t treating him rudely or coldly; Aspen had told Calum that she’d explained the situation to them, told them how he’d confronted his mother about it and how things were still resolving. Still, Calum understood their hesitancy in his return, knew it was the same way for Aspen when he showed up. Aspen had assured him that she had emphasized how, at the end of the day, he wasn’t at fault for what happened and while Calum appreciated it, he was willing to just go with how things were for the moment. It would take adjustment, but things would work out. He hoped.

“Hi, Daddy! I see you!”

Calum was instantly pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of Luna’s voice over the other children running around screaming and giggling. He blinked, looking up as a grin took over his face at the sight of Luna, waving at him from behind the bleary window of the tunnel up above she was crawling through. He let out a deep laugh, raising his own hand to wave ring clad fingers right back at her, hearing the faint sound of her giggle before she began crawling through the tunnels.

The smile remained on Calum’s face as Luna disappeared from sight, her joyous shrieks mixing in with those of her friends and cousins she was playing with as his arm slowly dropped to his side. They’d only been at the indoor play park for forty minutes and Luna was already having the time of her life, her smile and giggles bringing a sort of happiness in Calum’s chest that only his daughter was capable of creating.

“Not a bad job getting this place,” Richie’s voice sounded, and Calum tensed ever so slightly as Aspen’s brother appeared to his right. He glanced at him from his peripheral, saw Richie looking up at the cluster of tunnels and slides the children were playing in. “The kids seem to be enjoying themselves.” Calum snapped his gaze away when he saw Richie look at him. “Good job.”

Calum’s jaw clenched for a second. “Glad I’ve got your approval,” he returned evenly, not trying to antagonize anything but feeling as though Richie’s appraising words carried a contemptuous undertone. Calum shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “My daughter deserves the best.”

A quiet scoff of a laugh escaped Richie. “Still gunning for that Father of the Year award, huh?”

Calum pursed his lips at that, easily remembering the first time he and Richie met a few months ago after Calum was first introduced to Luna, how Richie had been so pissed at the mere sight of Calum around his sister and niece. But then he also remembered something else Richie had said to him that day, and Calum’s hands, which had formed into fists in the pockets of his jacket, relaxed. He still stared ahead, but his voice was low amongst the screeching of children.

“I know you know the truth of everything that happened, Rich.” Calum could feel the green eyed man’s gaze on him. “I was obviously the last to know. But you told me, that first day, that Aspen had been hurting all these years, too.” Calum loosened his jaw, finally bringing himself to look at Richie, who was watching him with a stern expression. “Trust me when I say that I wish with every-fuckin’-thing in me that she didn’t have to go through that. That none of this happened in the first place.” There was a subtle softness in Richie’s expression, and Calum took a breath, hoping his words would reach the man next to him. “Aspen is important to me. What happened wasn’t fair to her or Luna. And I wish I could go back to prevent it from happening but I can’t. So I’m tryin’ to make it right now, alright?”

Calum let out a breath once he finished speaking, pressing his lips together and looking ahead at the tunnels in front of them, jaw once again tightening out of nerves he couldn’t help but show. He hadn’t before, but he understood now why Richie had been so harsh with him, understood that he was just a man standing in defense for his younger sister who’d been forced to make a difficult, troubling decision. He’d never fault Richie for wanting to protect Aspen—it was something Calum had failed to do himself.

There was a silence between them, disturbed by the sounds of children playing and Luna’s playlist that Calum had paid the workers put on a loop for the duration of the party. Calum watched the figures of the kids come and go from the bleary windows of the tunnels, in the nets of some of them, though he could feel his words hang heavily in the air as he waited for Richie’s reaction.

“Aspen told me you confronted your mother about everything,” Richie finally spoke up, his tone even and not giving away what he was thinking. He glanced at Calum. “That must’ve been difficult.”

The muscle in Calum’s jaw jumped as he gave a quick nod, gaze dropping to the matted floor briefly. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Not really on speakin’ terms with her at the moment.”

Another brief silence. Then, Richie said, “Aspen and Luna aren’t the only ones who didn’t deserve this.” Calum found his gaze flickering back to Richie, eyes ever so slightly wide, practically unnoticeable, but the surprise Richie’s words emitted could be seen in his dark irises. Richie patted his shoulder, pressed lips pulling back into a brief accepting smile. “Glad you’re making it right.”

Calum hadn’t expected Richie’s words, but he’d be lying if he said the relief didn’t flood him entirely.

An hour or so of letting the kids play, the food was brought out and the children were called from the playing area to come eat before they cut the cake and went back to playing. As parents of the birthday girl, Aspen and Calum made sure every kid had something on their plate, pizzas and burgers and fries and boneless wings alike.

Truthfully, Aspen was prolonging the inevitable of going to the table where all the adults sat, because she’d have to sit with Calum’s friends. Luke and Michael weren’t the issue—it seemed like even though they were at a kid’s birthday party, Ashton couldn’t seem to hold back the contempt he felt for Aspen and had no issues showing it on his face every time their gazes met. He stuck to conversing with the boys and even Aspen’s family, but never made a move to even say anything to Aspen, not even a greeting when he arrived. She didn’t care, too much; but she just wanted to enjoy her daughter’s birthday.

She settled on the long table, settling between Laila and Calum with Luke sitting right across from her. The table was filled with light chatter, overpowered by the sounds of the children in the table over giggling and chattering jubiously. For the most part, everything was fine, but Aspen’s right foot keep bouncing under the table, an underlying anxiety messing with her. She tried to relax herself, unsure why she felt so on edge, while trying to focus on the sandwich in front of her.

But then a hand came to rest on her knee, instantly quelling the bouncing and Aspen glanced down to see the tattooed, ring wearing hand resting upon her knee. Aspen took a soft breath, pressed lips quirking into a smile as she followed the hand up the arm and letting her gaze rest on Calum’s face. He glanced at her, shooting her a soft, reassuring look that had her shoulders relaxing instantly. Aspen rested her hand on top of his, watching as his smile widened slightly as she squeezed it before returning her attention to her food.

When she looked up, Aspen promptly ignored the narrowed eyed gaze Ashton was shooting her from across the table.

Once they finished eating, Aspen and Calum went to the back room where the freezer was to get the cake. It was a two tiered Moana themed cake, blue and green foster to signify the water and grass with a small Moana doll on top, with Happy Birthday Luna written on top. When Aspen put the number five candle on top, not yet lighting it, she let out a breath. “I can’t believe she’s five already,” she commented with an airy disbelieving laugh. Looking over at Calum, who had a small smile on his lips as he gazed at the cake, Aspen reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m so happy you’re here, Cal.”

The smile on his face widened, a happy glint in his dark eyes that had Aspen’s heart fluttering, only to intensify when Calum lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Me too, doll.”

Just as he let go of her hand, Jodie’s voice sounded from behind them. “We good? I’ve got the camera ready.”

They glanced at Aspen’s best friend over their shoulders, who was holding up her phone. Nodding, Calum pulled out his lighter from the pocket of his jeans and flicked it on to light the candle. “Alright, let’s do this,” Calum smiled, pocketing the lighter and carefully picking up the cake.

Aspen grinned as Jodie began recording, and Aspen walked alongside Calum as he carried the cake, all the while Jodie used her phone to catch the moment from the second they left the kitchen. As soon as they got within earshot of where the kids sat, the adults surrounding them, Aspen and Calum both broke out into singing happy birthday, catching everyone’s attention.

Everyone had their phones out, grins on their faces as Calum and Aspen approached where Luna sat at the table, grinning happily with a plastic birthday crown sitting atop her head. All of the guests were now singing to Luna, her grin as wide as it could be and green eyes excitedly bright as Jodie documented it all.

Calum set the cake in front of Luna, her friends all singing cheerfully as well as both of her parents crouched next to her, and Aspen handed Luna the knife and covered her daughter’s smaller hand with hers. While singing, Aspen looked at Calum before nodding at the knife, and his grin widened as his right hand covered Aspen’s. “Blow out the candle, bubba,” Aspen told Luna as the song was coming to an end.

As kids do, Luna inhaled a deep breath before blowing the candle out, and everyone cheered as they helped Luna cut through the cake. The grins couldn’t be wiped from Aspen and Calum’s face as everyone cheered for their daughter, an air of happiness surrounding them because of the love that was surrounding her. And the smile on Luna’s face only added onto the joy that her parents were feeling for her.

“Smile, you three,” Mali grinned, her camera up to take a picture of them.

Thinking alike and on either side of Luna, Aspen and Calum pressed their lips to either of Luna’s cheeks, the five year old giggling happily as Mali snapped the photo, and Aspen felt a flutter of giddiness. She was definitely going to ask Mali to send her that picture so she could get it developed.

Calum pressed another kiss to Luna’s cheek. “Love you, baby.”

Luna giggled at the tickle of Calum’s stubble, grin ever present. Aspen and Calum stood up and Calum took it upon himself to take the knife and cut slices for everyone. He and Aspen worked together as she handed him plates to put the slices on before handing them out to the eagerly waiting kids.

They devoured the cake quickly while the adults ate it at a much calmer pace, and as soon as Calum was done eating, Luna came running over to him and grabbed at his hand with both of hers, giving him a tug. “Ball pit, Daddy! Let’s go to the ball pit.”

Calum chuckled, putting down the paper plate before letting the exuberant five year old drag him towards the large pit filled with colorful plastic balls, a few kids already enjoying themselves in it. Luna dragged him to the steps leading up to it, and Calum grinned at her. “Wanna jump in with me?”

Luna nodded enthusiastically, her curls bouncing and Calum gripped hr by the underarms before picking her up and holding her to his chest. She held onto him, giggling, as Calum grinned, “Ready?” At Luna’s nod, Calum swung them both side to side. “One, two. . . Three!”

He pushed himself up before jumping right into the ball pit, the plastic balls engulfing him and Luna as she shrieked in joy before he pushed them to the surface. His deep laughter mixed with Luna’s sweet giggles, and Calum knew for a fact that it was his favorite sound in the world.

“You look like a creepy stalker.”

Calum chuckled when Aspen jumped slightly at his words, rolling her eyes and lightly swatting at his chest for scaring her. She was standing at the end opening of the hallway leading towards the bathroom behind the tunnels the kids were once again crawling in, mostly obstructed from everyone’s view and a good distance away. Aspen needed a bit of a break from everyone, wanting to just watch the kids enjoy themselves.

“Just needed a little break,” she told him, shifting so instead of leaning against the wall on her side, she was on her back, facing Calum.

She was hoping Calum would just assume she meant she needed a break from all of the kids, but he was one of the most intuitive people Aspen’s ever met. So she shouldn’t have been surprised when his expression faltered a bit, facing her as he sighed. “I’m sorry about Ashton. I told him to lay off but he’s not gettin’ it—”

Aspen began shaking her head. “It’s fine, Calum.”

Well, it wasn’t. She had half a mind to snap at Calum’s best friend, tell him to either man up and say what he wanted to say or just get the hell over it. This was Luna’s birthday party, the first one Calum was a part of, and Aspen was sick of catching Ashton’s glare every time she happened to lock gazes with him. She understood that he was pissed at her for what she did to Calum, despite knowing the truth of the matter, but if Calum could bring himself to forgive her, why couldn’t Ashton? Luke and Michael were easier to deal with, they weren’t anywhere near as bad as Ashton because they had the decency to smile and make small talk despite feeling tense about it.

“No, it’s not,” Calum protested with a shake of his head, dark eyebrows drawing together. Taking a step forward, his hands lifted to cup Aspen’s face, her skin soft in his palms as he ducked his head slightly and maintained eye contact. “’M gonna talk to him soon, yeah? Gonna tell him about us and that he has to move past what happened. If I did, then so can he.”

Just like Aspen hadn’t told anyone, except for Jodie, that she was back together with Calum, he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone but Mali. Calum knew he’d have to break the news to the boys, and while he wasn’t necessarily scared of his friends’ reactions, he just didn’t want any of them saying anything hurtful towards Aspen. Something Calum knew Ashton was the most capable of doing.

Aspen smiled, appreciative of Calum’s words and tilted her head up towards him in silent want. Mirroring her smile, Calum dipped his head all the way to connect their lips, both of them momentarily forgetting the fact that not everyone knew of their rekindled romance, in too much need of the other’s lips as they shared a soft, sweet kiss.

Until a disbelieving laugh followed by words spoken by the very person they’d been talking about broke them apart. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Pulling away from Calum, Aspen took a breath at the sight of Ashton and Luke staring at them. Luke only appeared shocked, completely taken aback at having caught Aspen and Calum kissing—meanwhile Ashton looked like someone had told him a joke so stupid all he could do was laugh at its absurdity. In this moment, that joke was probably the Aspen and Calum.

“What—” Luke spoke up, wide blue eyes flickering between the couple in disbelief. He shook his head before asking, “Are you guys back together?”

Ashton scoffed loudly. “The hell they are.” His hazel eyes narrowed into a glare directed specifically at Aspen, who hardened her expression under his heated stare and straightened her shoulders. “No fucking way Cal’s gonna get involved with someone like her again.”

Calum’s jaw tightened, feeling his chest tighten in anger. “Ashton—”

“Someone like me?” Aspen cut him off, her own tone hard and stinging, jutting her chin in question. She was definitely having a hard time not giving into Ashton’s insults. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Luke looked between his friend and Aspen warily, not oblivious to the tense energy crackling between them “Someone who didn’t give a shit about a person she supposedly cared about,” Ashton spat back, a venomous growl in his tone that had Calum tensing and staring at him with a startled glare, not at all okay with the way he was speaking to or looking at Aspen. “Someone who took the coward’s way out and ran at the first sign of money. A fucking gold digger.”

Calum started, feeling his skin fire up in affronted heat as he took a step forward. “Oi, that’s enough,” he said, an agitated growl in his own voice, making sure to keep it low as to not attract anyone else’s attention. But the music playing throughout the indoor playground was loud and the children laughing and screaming was enough to drown this conversation out.

Worried gaze wandering to Aspen, Calum pressed his lips together as he took in her profile. Her jaw was tight, pink lips pressed together as her green eyes narrowed into a kind of glare even Calum wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of. He knew that look, knew she only got this kind of angry when someone pushed her too far, saw a glare quite similar to that when they were in Luna’s principal’s office talking to Bailey Clarkson. Aspen was shorter than all of them, but the anger radiating off of her was immense.

“You’re right.” Her words surprised Calum, looking at her in mild confusion as Luke watched along with his eyebrows drawn together. Ashton remained with his glare as Aspen spoke in a voice dangerously quiet and taut. “I was a coward for running, for letting every bullshit insecurity talk me into leaving Calum. I was an idiot for listening to his mom. But I am not that person anymore.” Every word she spoke was hard, firm and in a tone that enunciated her anger and the way she was keeping it down to keep this conversation between them. Her heated glare never left Ashton. “I was a dumb twenty year old that was always worried about what other people were saying about her, but I would be fucking damned to stay being that person. Not when I have a daughter who looks up to me.”

Calum stayed silent, watching her with worry and admirance all rolled into one, his eyes never leaving her as she stood up for herself to Ashton. “I know you’re not my biggest fan for what I did to Calum,” Aspen continued, letting out an accepting scoff. “I hurt him, and trust me when I say it’s something I’m gonna regret for the rest of my life.” Calum frowned, throat working as he stopped himself from telling her that that’s not what he wanted. But Aspen needed to get this out, so he stayed silent.

Aspen nodded to herself, taking a breath. “I was a lot of things, Ashton. A coward, an idiot, an insecure girl who made a stupid decision—but one thing I wasn’t, or ever will be, was a fucking gold digger.” She narrowed her eyes at the man in front of her. There was definitely a pang that had ricocheted through her chest when that term escaped Ashton’s mouth, drying her throat as she was suddenly reminded of the very insecurities she was talking about. But Aspen refused to be victim to them any longer. “Yeah, I took the fucking money, but I took it for Luna. Haven’t touched a single penny of it—not that I have to explain myself to you.”

Aspen swallowed, taking a step back with a shake of her head, feeling Calum’s fingers brush her arm before his fingers interlocked with hers. Ashton’s gaze never left hers, though, lips pursed throughout Aspen’s speech. “You fucked up with what you did,” Ashton said, tone even and controlled, the tautness still discernible. “I’m the one who comforted Calum after you left. Who watched him develop the same fucking insecurities that sent you running in the first place.”

Calum’s body tensed, watching as Aspen’s hardened expression melted into one of guilt, green eyed gaze flickering over to him in concerned confirmation. But Calum felt his gut coiling uncomfortably, narrowing his eyes at his friend. He and Aspen were good, they were past, well, the past. Calum didn’t want it being brought up again out of spite. “Ashton—”

The hazel eyed man ignored him, his gaze holding Aspen’s. “You ruined him. For a long time.” The mere thought of that accusation had Aspen’s throat tightening. She was well aware of the effect her leaving him had on her boyfriend; they’d already had so many conversations about it. But hearing it from someone who had to actually watch Calum go through the pain she had a hand in giving had guilt laden tears burning Aspen’s eyes. Her grip on Calum’s hand tightened, a silent apology he instantly accepted.

Ashton shook his head, frowning at her. It didn’t held the same level of hostility every other look he gave her had; it was more distrusting, lips turned downwards in disapproval. “How do you expect me to just accept you in not just Cal’s, but all of our lives? How do any of us know you’re not going to fuck him over again?”

Her answer was instant. Aspen didn’t even need a second to think about it. “Because he’s family.” Her voice was almost soft, laden with honesty and genuinity as the glare she’d been wearing wiped away to be replaced with sincerity. Aspen turned her head to look at Calum, who was staring at her with a look in his warm brown eyes that left her breathless; soft and fond and adoring and everything in between. A look that screamed of exactly what he felt for her, which made her dizzy with the same kind of overwhelming emotion. He was family, and Aspen had no intention of making him feel like anything less than that.

Tearing her gaze from Calum and looking back Ashton, she saw both he and Luke were wearing slightly surprised—maybe even moved, on Luke’s part—expressions as they gazed at them. Aspen swallowed the lump in her throat, reaffirming her tone. “I have no intention of repeating the same mistake twice.” She shrugged half heartedly. “Like it or not, this is my family, Ashton. This time I’d be damned to let it fall apart again. You’re either okay with that or you’re not. Either way, I’m over worrying about what people think.”

Her words were followed by a calm silence, disrupted only by the music and children playing, but Aspen kept her green eyes locked with Ashton’s hazel. Her hand was still in Calum’s larger and warmer one, the touch comforting and relaxing her in the tense situation. She said what she needed to say, standing by her words. Whether or not Ashton was going to accept them was up to him.

He was one of Calum’s best friends. Aspen would be lying if she said a part of her didn’t wish for Ashton to be okay with this, despite their disagreements and Ashton’s obvious distrust of her. For Calum’s sake.

She watched as the muscle in Ashton’s jaw jumped, three pairs of eyes watching him, Luke standing just a step or so behind him yet his blue eyes were on Ashton, waiting for him to say something. Calum schooled his expression to neutrality, not letting go of Aspen’s hand as her words echoed in his mind. Family. They were a family, and while Calum desperately wanted Ashton to be okay with this, for his best friend to accept that he was finally happy after years of being anything but, he also felt a fluttering relief in his chest at the thought of being with Aspen and Luna.

“I still don’t trust you.” Aspen lifted her chin as she felt her throat tighten at Ashton’s words, noticing Luke frown and Calum tense up next to her. Then Ashton sighed, tattooed arms crossing over his chest as he puckered his lips briefly. His eyes flickered to Calum before his shoulders relaxed slightly, letting out a resigned breath as he let his gaze fall back to Aspen. “I’m willing to try. But it won’t be overnight.”

Aspen nodded, chewing her lower lip briefly. “I get that.” Better than nothing.

Ashton raised his eyebrows, hand lifting slightly as he pointed a finger at her, tone warning as he firmly stated, “You hurt him again and I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

“Fuck’s sake, man,” Calum groaned, shoulders dropping in defeat. He was definitely going to have a talk with Ashton over how he spoke to Aspen. But she herself didn’t look too affected by Ashton’s words or tone of voice.

If anything, she looked almost relieved, and Calum watched her and Ashton as the corners of her lips quirked into a slight, subtle smile only he could pick up on. Aspen nodded, gaze never wavering from Ashton’s. “Understood.”

The dirty blonde, curly haired man gave a single nod, letting out a breath as he looked between the three people, all wearing different expressions of relief. Ashton suppressed a snort. “I’m getting another slice of cake,” he declared before, without another word or look, he turned around and walked away.

Luke shook his head, running his fingers through his curls as if the whole situation was stressful for him. Then, with a thumbs up to the couple in front of him, he grinned easily. “Happy for you two. I promised Luna I’d swim in the ball pit with her.”

He was gone too, leaving on Calum and Aspen by themselves. Immediately, Calum spoke up in an uncharacteristic rush, “I’m sorry ’bout how Ashton spoke to you. Trust me, I’m gonna—”

Calum was promptly cut off with Aspen pressing her lips to his, and he couldn’t help but immediately melt into the kiss, arms wrapping around her waist as her hands cupped his cheeks. It was a slow kiss with Aspen sucking on his plump lower lip, causing Calum to tighten his hold on her and release a low growl from the back of his throat at the teasing sensation.

“No more apologies, okay?” Aspen breathed after they pulled away, lips brushing with his as she spoke. Their foreheads were still pressed together, slopes of their noses aligning as she kept her eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “We said all’s been forgiven—we won’t mean that until we stop with the apologies, bubba.”

Keeping his eyes closed as well, Calum reveled in holding Aspen so close, in the taste of her lips and her fruity scent that was engulfing him. Listening to her say all those things to Ashton—it was overwhelming in the best way. They were in this together, and hearing her say that he was family had tightened his throat and made his heart jump. It only intensified when he registered the cute nickname Aspen called him by, something he’d only heard her call him years ago and now only used it on Luna. This was the first time she addressed Calum by it after so long, and it brought a smile to his face and a flutter in his chest.

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before they pulled back slightly, and Aspen picked up on the teasing glint that suddenly took over his dark eyes. “Right now it’s bubba—this morning it was somethin’ else,” Calum spoke, voice low and raspy as he kept her close.

Aspen’s cheeks heated up as she recalled exactly what he was talking about, and Calum’s lips quirked into a wolfish smirk. “Yeah, no, that was a one time thing,” Aspen laughed with a shake of her head. “I’m not calling you that again.”

Calum’s eyebrows drew together as he pouted at her. “Why not?” he childishly whined.

Aspen’s laughter returned, staring up at him in incredulous amusement as her arms looped over his shoulders and her fingers teased the curls at the back of his head. “I’m not calling you daddy when that’s what our daughter refers to you as. That’s fucking weird, Calum, come on.”

Calum huffed, head tilting back ever so slightly as he looked up at the wall behind Aspen. “Huh,” he thoughtfully sounded. “Kids really do become the biggest cockblock.”

He grinned when Aspen laughed, the sound music to his ears as she pressed her forehead to his chest and he could feel the vibrations of her laughter, emitting chuckles of his own. When her giggles died down, she lifted her head so her glittering green eyes met his dark brown ones. Her smile turned impish, matching the look in her eye as she bit down on her grinning lower lip before she said, “You’re definitely a DILF, though, if it makes you feel any better.”

Calum’s smirk returned, wide and boyish and charming, leaning down to nip at her lower lip. “Yeah?” he rasped, loving the way her fingers tangled in his hair as he moved them so they were against the wall, obstructed from the view of any potential onlookers. “You’re my favorite baby mama.”

Aspen let out a breathy giggle. “I’m your only baby mama.” Then, using her grip in his hair, tilted Calum’s head back to meet his gaze with a narrow eyed one of her own. “At least, I better be.”

Calum kissed the tip of her nose, noticing her smile. “As if there’d be anyone else.”

tags: @crownedbyluke @rishlo @bitchinbabylon @ghostofcalum @dxmncalum @letsfxckindance @unsexilexi @calumthoodsyonce @grreatgooglymoogly @therainydays4 @sadbreakfast-club @lifeakaharry @codycasperky2 @calntynes @complete-trash-101 @kinglyhemmings @empathycth @friendly-neighborhood-michelle @cxddlyash @checkeredcalum @lovelettercalum @nostalgia-luke @captain-what-is-going-on @slimthicccal @bloodytbs @miahelizaaabeth @ghostofhood @elsysoza @writing-in-riverdale @tourettesboi @angelbbycal @bbteamlove @xoforeverx @stfujace @thebodaciouscth @helplesshood @runawaywithme-xo @lietomemyvalentine @emma070900 @cosmixcalum @babygirlcashton @calumamongmen @5sos-stan4lyfe @ihatemyself21 @lipstickstainfading @crystalisinfinite @misskarynie @wrappedaroundcal @wcstethenights @michealcliffturd @akacalciumhood @poppedpins @dollbitxhes @5saucewho @hearts-to-the-sky @booklove-2 @walkedhomealone @andreabjoerg @qualitylu @softboycal @early-thoughts @5saucefanfic @dher216 @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @babyloniancal @xlov3quotingx @aybbblondie @rexorangecouny @flowerchild8341 @romanticalumhood @kaxseychill @babyloncalm @calistheloml @calumh-excess @egyptiangoldhood @irwinkitten @soulmatecashton @gettingjillywithit @asht0ns-world @visualm3nte @xhaileyreneex @cal-pal-cuddles @invisiblexcth @cliffordcntrl @calumsmermaid @5secondssofssummer @cals-babylons @mysteriouslycali @hoodcentral @cathartichaoss @inlovehoodx @gigglyirwin @roselukes @thepixiedreambitch @calumhoodless @paqueretteash @antisocialbandmate @sunnysidesblog @escap0-with-me @thewhitestbitch-u-know @rosecoloredash @biwriting @calteahood @2k17muke @theagenderwhocriedwolf @caelumhood @kinglycalum @fucking5sos @ohhmuke @ghostofch @isabella-mae13 @5secsofsomewhere @tupeloohoneyy @sublimehood @shower-me-with-roses @hotmessmichael @pauliip @jetblackyoungblood @astroashtonio @valentinelrh @softforcal @glitterprincelu @meetashthere @hereforlukescruff @old-zeppelin-shirt

[nightlight9]

It Must Be True Love

Theme: Disney

Summary: After rejecting Jennifer Blake’s advances, Prince Derek is cursed with eternal slumber. The cure? Finding Derek’s true love and sealing their fate with a kiss. The Royal family and Stiles are ready to do anything to find Derek’s mate, even though Stiles knows that it means letting him go. After all, it’s not like he could be Derek’s true love. Right?

Rating: G

AO3

Quick Note: I wanted to include a warning for the consent issues in this piece: The only way for Derek to wake from his curse is to have his true love kiss him, and that means that he is not conscious (and therefore cannot consent) to being kissed by strangers. Most of this happens off screen and is only referenced in the piece, and the consent issues are brought up by the characters in the story, but I wanted to make this clear for anyone’s who is concerned.

—————

Queen Talia awakens with a gasp, eyes glowing alpha red before fading back to green. She looks around the ballroom, where the other members of her family slumber on. Finally, her gaze lands on Stiles, her question obvious. “Mr. Stilinski, what is going on?”

Stiles sighs, relaxing back against the floor, mentally celebrating the fact that his potion worked. “Your Majesty, the kingdom has been cursed.” Talia’s brows furrow in concern, and she gestures for him to go on. “When the prince rejected Lady Jennifer’s advancements, she revealed herself to be a darach. She cursed his majesty, and then the kingdom before I could get to her.” He inclines his head at her in shame. “My apologies, my Queen. I have let you and the entire kingdom down.”

Talia reaches out and cradles Stiles’ face. Having grown up around the royals, it is not the first time that she has been so familiar with him. But now he feels like he’s disappointed her, so the action doesn’t comfort him nearly as much as it once has, “Stiles,” she says, voice soft. “I’m sure that, regardless of what happened, you tried your best to save the kingdom.” When he looks up at her, she smiles fondly for a moment before getting back to the discussion at hand. “How long have I been sleeping?”

Stiles cringes. “Two months. The curse put everyone into an enchanted sleep, and it took me a while to create the perfect counter curse and gather the ingredients that I needed for it.”

“Can you wake the others?”

Nodding slowing, Stiles considers his answer. “The potion I made will be able to wake everyone else up. My dad is already working his way through the city.”

Instead of commenting on the fact that Stiles woke his father up before taking care of his queen, Talia picks up on what he isn’t saying. “But?”

He bites at his lips. “But it isn’t strong enough to help Derek. I-. Jennifer’s curse was very specific when it came to him.”

Talia’s expression darkens. “What do you mean? What did she do?”

“Because she felt scorned by Derek and rejected, she made sure that the only way to wake him is with-.”

“True love’s kiss.” It isn’t a question, but Stiles nods anyway. Sensing how complicated that makes Derek’s situation, Talia sighs. “Tell me, Stiles, how is it that the curse did not affect you?”

Luckily, Stiles has had a lot of time to figure that out. “It is because of my Spark. My natural magick counteracted Jennifer’s enchantment.”

She nods, having expected as much. “And Alan?”

This one is a little more complicated, but Stiles has already figured that out as well. “Deaton was poisoned prior to the curse’s establishment, otherwise he would have remained unaffected by it. Jennifer knew that, as your Emissary, he would have had the power to reverse the sleeping curse, so she made sure to take him out before going after Derek. I was able to cure him of his poisoning as well, and then he helped me create the counter curse.”

With a smile, Talia reaches out to run her hand across his neck, scenting him. “Well, we are very lucky that she did not know about you.” Standing up off of the floor, Talia brushes herself off then offers Stiles her hand. “Come, show my how to administer the cure so that I may help out.”

Accepting her help, Stiles gets to work showing her how to wake the others. It is a long and tedious process. Every person has to be fed the potion, so rounding everyone one up and making sure that they are all accounted for is grueling. Luckily, the more people that they get woken up, the more help that they have.

Eventually, Prince Derek, Talia’s one and only son, is the only person still cursed in enchanted slumber.

Despite being unable to stop Jennifer before anything bad could befall him, Stiles is left in change of Derek. Having spent years watching the prince, seeing him so helpless makes Stiles ache.

It is made worse when, after many hours of discussion and debate, a decision is made on how to help Derek.

“You want us to do what,” Laura screeches, hovering over Derek’s sleeping form as though it is enough to change her mother’s mind.

“I don’t like it either Laura, but it is the best chance we have at helping him. It’s our only chance.”

Stiles hates everything about the plan. It makes his skin crawl just thinking about it. And yet, he finds himself reluctantly agreeing with Talia. If true love’s kiss is the only thing that could help Derek, then they have to find Derek’s true love. And the only way to do that is to welcome the people of their kingdom and beyond to come and kiss Derek.

Despite the serious issues of consent that Stiles has with the whole ordeal, there is another part of him, a smaller part, that is put off by jealousy. As the son of the Queen’s Guard Captain, Stiles grew up at the palace with the Hale siblings. And while he got close with all of Talia’s children, Stiles had a special bond with Derek. That was why Talia put Stiles in charge of Derek’s personal guard in the first place, despite the fact that he is three years younger than him and that he is only a Spark while Derek himself is a werewolf. After spending so much time with him, both as his guard and as his friend, it was impossible for Stiles not to fall for Derek. And the thought of standing by while other people, while strangers, kiss the person that Stiles has fallen in love with is excruciating. Just thinking about it makes Stiles’ stomach stomach turn.

“That is insane,” Laura snarls, eyes flickering between beta gold and green. “Mom, tell me there isn’t another way. Stiles, you can’t actually think that this is a good idea!”

And he wants to say that it’s a terrible idea, he really does, both for Derek’s sake and for his own. But - “I don’t know what else we could do, Laura.” She gaps at him, and he sighs. “I hate it as much as you do, trust me I do. But the Queen has a point; how else could we help him? Deaton and I have tried to brainstorm any other way that we might help, but this is a magick that we can’t compete with We’ve even tried to create a spell to find Derek’s mate, but it just doesn’t work like that. Even with the best of intentions, there is nothing that we can do.”

She huffs, looking furious. And then all at once, the breath leaves her. She drops her gaze and sighs. “Okay. I-Gods I hate this so much. But if it’s all we can do to wake him up, all we can do so that I can have my brother back again, then alright.”

Stiles thinks about how rare it is to find one's true love. He thinks about how many werewolves that he’s known that have actually found their true mate. The statistic is...well, it’s anything but encouraging. But it’s Derek. And Stiles has been willing to do anything for him for a long time.

Talia nods, expression serious. She’s no longer Derek’s mother. She’s the queen of Beacon, ready to face the world and all of its odds. “I’ll have my advisors start setting up a process for this ordeal. I want this as organized and well maintained as possible.”

Laura nods once, then meets her mother’s eyes, expression determined. “I want to be a part of it.”

Talia doesn’t argue or protest at all. Instead she looks at Stiles. He understands what she’s asking and shakes his head. “I’ll stay with him, if that’s alright.”

With an understanding nod, Talia excuses herself and disappears, ready to get started. Laura gives her brother one last, lingering look before following after her. And Stiles takes his post at Derek’s bedside, as loyal as always.

—————

It takes a week before the council is able to lay out an organized plan to find Derek’s true love. It’s convoluted and tedious, but it is the best that they can come up with. The night before the castle opens its doors for the citizens of Beacon to try and wake the prince with a kiss, Laura curls up on the bed with Derek and settles in for the night.

Stiles has long since given up guarding the door. Instead he spends his days waiting at Derek’s bedside, watching over him. When Laura comes in, he gives her privacy with her brother, pulling his chair to the other side of the room and retrieving a book. He’s making steady progress into it when Laura speaks up, startling him; Stiles had thought that she had fallen asleep already.

“Are we doing the right thing,” Laura asks, voice small. Stiles glances over at her, takes in her downtrodden expression and the uncomfortable way that she’s hunched beside her brother, and stands up. Moving to sit beside her on the bed, Stiles reaches out and takes her hand, then looks back at where Derek slumbers on.

“I don’t know.” The only thing that he can be is honest. “I hope so. But-I don’t know.”

“Derek would hate this. The thought of having so many people, so many strangers touching him, getting in his space. He would hate it so much.”

The worst part is that Stiles knows that she’s right. “Do you think-do you think that he would rather stay asleep?” It’s the question that he’s been too afraid of asking since the beginning. Here in the dark though, it feels necessary to ask. There is a long pause from Laura, and Stiles prepares himself for her answer. If she says yes, if she honestly thinks that Derek would prefer an eternal slumber, then he’s ready to do everything that he can to stop tomorrow from happening.

But then all the air leaves Laura’s lungs. “I don’t think so. I mean, we can’t say for sure. And I may just be putting my wishes on him. But I think that he would like to wake up and be with all of us again. I think that, even though it sucks, I think that he would want us to do this if it means that he can come home to us. The Derek I know would do anything for his family. He loves us more than anything else.”

The truth of what she’s saying makes Stiles feel better - well, mostly. As she curls up beside her brother, Stiles lets their conversation die off. But he’s left with another question; at what point do you love someone enough to let them go?

He hopes, glancing over at Derek’s still form, that he’ll never have to find that out.

—————

The next few days are...well, horrible might be an understatement. They move Derek down to the great hall, settling him in a bed set up in front the thrones. And then, one by one, the citizens of Beacon shuffle into the room, pay their respects to their unconscious prince, and then they kiss him hoping that they’ll be the one to wake him from his slumber.

Stiles stands guard at Derek’s side and watches as everyone takes their chance. Even Erica and Boyd, Derek’s two best friends who have been happily married for three years step forward to offer their kisses.

Derek never wakes up.

It’s exhausting for Stiles and for the royal family. Cora, Derek's littlest sister, locks herself in her bedroom and refuses to see Derek at all. Laura looks more haggered day by day. There are bags under her eyes giving away her exhaustion, which is heartbreaking because Stiles cannot recall a time where Laura was anything but composed. Even Talia herself looks wearier as the hours pass and her son remains enchanted.

After the fourth day, after Derek has been returned to his bedroom, Talia summons Stiles to her study. When he joins her she is sitting at her desk, penning a letter to the ruler of their neighboring country, explaining what has befallen Beacon and inviting them to come and offer up their kisses.

Stiles stands in the center of the room watching her and staying silent. Eventually, she sighs, sets her pen off to one side, and gives him her attention.

“Stiles,” Talia hums, glancing over at him consideringly. “Tell me something; you have stayed by Derek’s side, have been his friend for years, and you would do anything for him.” She pauses, waiting, even though she isn’t really asking a question.

He blinks at her. “I-yes.”

She smiles. “Then why have you not kissed him. There is no reason that you shouldn’t throw your hand in with all the others. And I know that you’re fond of him.”

Stiles feels himself blush. He wants to deny it, but doesn’t see the point. Talia is a werewolf, an alpha no less. Lying would be pointless. “That’s just it. I’ve-,” it feels stupid to say that he loves Derek, but in the interest of being honest, “I’ve been in love with Derek for so long. Probably even before I joined the Guard and was entrusted to protect his life with my own. But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m not Derek’s true love. I’m not his mate. If I was, he would already know. I mean, when you talk about meeting your husband, it was an instant spark. You knew right away that he was your mate. That’s not-. I don’t need to kiss him to know that I’m not his. And if I can save him one unnecessary kiss, than why would I try? It would just be me taking something from him, something for myself, that he would never willingly give.”

As ungraceful as it is, Talia gaps. Smoothing out her expression, she nods, then smiles. It’s a sad look. “You can’t know that though, Stiles. Just because that was how it was for Patrick and I, that doesn’t mean that that’s how it always is.”

He shrugs and drops his gaze. “Maybe not. But it’s not me, my queen.”

Even though it looks like she wants to protest, she resists. “Alright. I won’t pressure you, not about this. But, for the record, I think that Derek would be lucky to have you.”

The compliment is-it’s a huge one. And it takes Stiles breath. But it doesn’t change his mind. “Thank you, my queen.”

She snorts, sounding nothing like royalty. “We’ve talked about this before, Stiles; call me Talia. You have always been a part of our family. And these days, I see you more than I do my own children.”

He inclines his head at the declaration, both to show his thanks and to hide his blush. Talia chuckles lowly, then picks her pen back up. “I have a few more letters to finish, Stiles. But thank you for coming in to see me.”

He bids her goodnight and exits the study, making his way back up to Derek’s room. The guards at the door nod at him when he shows up, and let him pass into the room without saying anything. Stiles takes his seat, leaning back and watching Derek’s sleeping expression.

“You wouldn’t believe the conversation I just had with your mom,” he says softly. This is something that, over the weeks since the spell was cast, Stiles has taken up doing. Talking to Derek, even though he can’t hear him, is nice. And it feels important even though Stiles never gets a response. “She thought that I might be your true love, can you believe it? Don’t worry, I told her that that would be impossible. I mean, there’s no way that it’s me, Derek. We both know that. But I’ll find them, alright. Whoever your true love is, I’ll find them.”

Stiles allows a smile to pull his lips up as he settles back into his chair, even though it feels like a lie. It doesn’t matter. Derek can’t see it anyway.

—————

Laura is seated at the chair by Derek’s bedside. She’s flipping through the most recent book that Stiles had left on the table when Stiles walks in, and she barely looks at him. Without commenting on it, Stiles settles into a spare chair beside window, staring out across the courtyard, appreciating the way that the lamp lights cast a welcoming glow over the kingdom.

Out of nowhere, Laura bursts into motion, climbing to her feet to pace around the room. There have been multiple nights in the days following Derek’s curse that have ended like this, so Stiles doesn’t let the commotion get to him.

Until she comes to a stop standing in front of him.

He blinks up at her. “Um, hello, Laura.”

She scowls at him and, without beating around the bush, gets right to the point. “So I was talking to my mother earlier about how I thought it was kind of crazy that your kiss hadn’t done the trick to wake Derek up,” he flinches back against the window. “And she informed me that you hadn’t even tried.”

“Laura-.”

“Even Matthew tried! My husband kissed my brother to try and wake him up, and you told her that you wouldn’t!”

“Laura, you have to believe me when I say that I’m not Derek’s true love. I’m not his mate, Laura, I already know.”

“Please.” Laura sounds frustrated and heartbroken. Stiles can’t look at her. “Stiles, please. I know that you told mom that you wouldn’t. I know that you think it can’t be possible. But please, just try.”

“Your Highness, I can’t-.”

“Stop it.” Her voice is ice. “Don’t-. You can’t do that. You can’t push me away. You can’t distance yourself from all of us. Stiles, you grew up with us. You’re family. This doesn’t change anything.”

“I don’t’ deserve him,” he blows up finally, the words full of a truth that he’s believed for weeks. “Don’t you get that! I’m the reason that he’ in this situation in the first place! I can’t-. I’m not good enough for him.” The fight leaves his voice, and he adds in a whisper, “I’m not enough.”

Instead of agreeing with him like he expects, and instead of comforting him like he is secretly hoping for, Laura smacks the back of his head. “That’s crap, and you know it. If you weren’t enough, Derek never would have trusted you in the first place. All you’ve ever done is look for him, and you never expect anything in return.”

“It’s my job.”

“Yes, it is. But even before you were hired as his personal guard, you were watching out for him.” She sighs. “I know about what you did for him after Paige died.” Stiles startles. It hadn’t seemed like a very big deal at the time, and Stiles didn’t think that Derek had told anyone. Finding him that night, Stiles had done what had felt right. He had taken a distraught Derek back to his father's house on the outskirts of the city, tucked Derek into his bed, and kept vigil over him through the night, curling around him in a comforting hug when nightmares plagued Derek’s dreams. Having known what losing someone felt like, Stiles just wanted to help Derek escape for a few minutes. He had wanted to give him the space to breakdown away from prying eyes and expectations.

In the morning, Derek woke up and Stiles made him breakfast without saying a word. And then he escorted him back to the castle, and they never spoke of what had happened.

Laura sets her hand on Stiles’. “I know that you believe that you’re taking something from him by doing this, but please. Just try. I won’t-. I won’t force you to do it. But I would like you to. I mean, if anyone deserves my grumpy ass brother, I would like to believe that it’s the only person who knows how to handle him and who has never expected him to be anything but himself.”

She pats his hand once, twice, and then raises out of her chair and leaves the bedroom. Stiles watches her go, then turns his gaze on Derek.

He looks good, which is a relief. Despite how long he’s been sleeping, the enchantment has kept him healthy Stiles doesn’t understand how, magick isn’t always clear like that, but he’s happy for it. If he had to sit by and watch Derek slowly fade away to nothing, he doesn’t know how he would handle that.

Trying not to think about what Laura has said, Stiles moves over to the bed and settles on the edge. With shaking hands, he reaches out and runs his fingers gently across Derek’s cheek. Beneath his fingers, Derek’s skin is cool, another sign that this is not genuine slumber. For as long as Stiles has known him, Derek has always run warm, his skin hot to the touch. This spell has not only robbed him of his consciousness, but also of his warmth.

It’s that thought, the thought of how wrong it is and of how much Stiles wants him back, that has Stiles scooting forward. With a shaking breath, he closes his eyes, swallows nervously, and leans down to connect his lips with Derek’s.

He pulls back after a brief moment, breath caught in his chest, hope warring with the belief that he could never be good enough.

Derek looks the same.

It’s heartbreaking, but it’s what Stiles expected.

Trying to put some distance between himself and what he just did, Stiles gets up from the bed and moves back over to the window. Wrenching it open, he lets the fresh air wash over him and clear his head.

And then, someone behind him groans, startling Stiles enough that he nearly tumbles out the window.

Cursing, Stiles turns around, hand on the hilt of his sword. No one should be up here right now, which is why it’s surprising that he comes face to face with...no one. There isn’t anyone there.

There’s another groan, but this time Stiles sees where it’s coming from. On the bed, Derek twists his head to one side, expression pulling down in discomfort. Stiles trips on his way to the bed, throwing himself down beside Derek, wide eyed and frantic. “Derek? Derek? Are you awake?”

Taking a deep breath, Derek rolls onto his side. And then his eyes open. “Stiles? I-.” He tries to sits up, but then groans again and falls back onto his pillow. “What’s going on? What happened? Why is my body so sore.”

Manic, hysterical laughter takes Stiles by force, and he pulls Derek into a hug as best as he can. “You’re awake, you’re really awake!” He feels like crying. “Oh shit, I have to get the Queen! And Laura, holy crap, she’s going to hit me so hard for this. She’ll never let me live it down.”

Carefully, Derek pulls away from Stiles, reaching up to run careful fingers across his cheeks, and, oh-. Stiles hadn’t realized that he had actually started crying. “Stiles, what’s wrong?”

Without thinking about it, Stiles leans forward and peppers little kisses across Derek’s cheeks. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong, not anymore. You’re awake, and that’s all that matters.” Realizing that Derek actually has no idea what’s happened, and therefore doesn’t understand why Stiles is so ready to kiss him now even though it has never happened before, Stiles pushes himself away from Derek, falling off of the bed and staring up at the prince from the floor in horror.

“Oh Gods, I just kissed you. I mean, you don’t even know what’s going on or that I’m you’re mate and I just kissed you and you’re awake and I need to get Talia and-.” His voice has gotten louder through his tangent, and he must sound as frantic as he feels because the door to Derek’s bedroom is pushed open and one of the guards standing watch outside peeks his head inside. “Is everything alright in here, sir?”

Stiles blinks at him. “Get the Queen. Call the royal family. Prince Derek is awake.”

The guard flinches back in surprise, eyes trailing over to where Derek is sitting on the bed then back to Stiles. “Right away, sir!” The door closes and Stiles can hear the heavy footsteps of the running guard move away from the door.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice is croaky still from disuse. “Please, what's going on.”

When he asks so nicely, how could Stiles resist. “You were cursed. I don’t know how much you remember of what happened before you fell asleep, but when you rejected Jennifer’s advances, she responded by placing a sleeping curse over our kingdom. I managed to wake the others, but she used a specific spell on you, one that I couldn’t break with my magick.” He doesn’t mention what the spell was or how it was broken. He doesn’t know how to bring that up, or how to process that himself. “You’ve been asleep for nearly three months.”

Derek’s eyes are huge, shock and awe clear in his gaze. Stiles is so happy to be able to see them again. “I-. What-.” Before he can finish forming his question, the door bangs open and Talia appears, closely followed by Patrick and the rest of the Hales. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, her dressing robe thrown haphazardly over her nightgown, and Stiles doesn’t think he can recall her ever looking happier. There are clear tears in her eyes as she crosses the room and drags Derek into a hug.

Stiles is painfully aware that he’s sitting out he floor, watching the Hale’s reunite. Despite knowing that he’s the reason why Derek is awake, despite understanding that that means that he’s Derek’s mate, he can’t help but feel like he’s intruding on something very private.

Trying to move as quietly as he can, Stiles starts scooting himself toward the door, attempting to make a hasty exit. Before he can get too far though, he hears Derek call out his name in a soft whisper, and then an iron grip clamps down on his shoulder. When he turns to peek back at the room, all eyes are on his.

Laura’s fingers tighten ever so slightly on his shoulder as she peers down at him with narrowed eyes, and Stiles winces. “Stiles? What exactly happened after I left, hm?” She sounds far too gleeful. “How did Derek wake up?”

A small part of him is hoping that Talia will step in and wave Laura off, but she looks just as curious.

Opening his mouth, Stiles scrambles for a way to answer that doesn’t make him sound like some sort of predator.

Derek responds instead. “True love.” His voice is quiet and awed, and just a bit scratchy. “Jennifer’s spell for me was based on finding true love’s kiss.” A small smile pulls his lips up, and Stiles’ breath catches. “You’re my mate.”

It isn’t a question, and Stiles finds himself smiling back. “Who would have thought, right?”

Pretty much everyone gives him a look that says that they did, in fact, think that. Talia’s smile is soft and overjoyed. “Under normal circumstances, I would leave you two alone to talk everything over. But-. Well, I just got my son back, so perhaps we might call for something to eat and stay together a little longer before we all go to bed?” It feels absurd that she’s addressing the question to Stiles, because she is the Queen and Derek’s mother, and his alpha to boot. But it’s also humbling that she’s allowing him a chance to make a choice.

He nods. “Yes, of course you all will stay. I-. I’m sure Derek would like that, and having the pack whole again will help everyone calm down.”

“You’ll stay though, won’t you?” Derek actually sounds like he thinks Stiles is going to leave, which-. Actually that’s fair, considering he was just trying to crawl himself out of the room.

“Yes, of course. I’m not going anywhere, Derek.” He statement feels bigger than just this moment, and Derek seems to pick up on that too because he relaxes back into the bed, looking pleased.

Talia calls for a platter of meats and cheese to be brought up, and Cora makes a special request for some peanut butter cookies for Derek, and the pack settles around the room, taking turns sitting with Derek on the bed. The don’t really discuss the process that they were using to try and wake Derek up prior to Stiles’ kiss; there will be plenty of time for that later. Instead they focus on lighter topics and easy conversation. Somehow, and he isn’t actually quite sure how he gets there, Stiles ends up on the bed, pressed against Derek’s side feeling warm and drowsy and content.

One by one Derek’s family bids them goodnight, exiting the room until it’s just the two of them. Before she goes, Laura pauses at the door. “Oh, Stiles. I have refrained from saying it all night, but I told you so.”

Talia, who had been following Laura out, laughs. “Dear, leave the boys alone. Besides,” she grins a wicked grin, “I think I am the one who should be saying that.” Her laugher lights up the room as she pushes Laura through the door. “Goodnight boys, we’ll see you in the morning.”

Without the others there, what had begun to feel so natural is uncomfortable. Tensing up, Stiles prepares to climb out of the bed and leave Derek alone for the rest of the night. But before he can move, Derek snakes his arm around his waist and tugs him in closer.

“I thought that you said you weren’t going anywhere?” His tone is light and affectionate.

“I just-. I thought that you might like some space to think about all of this. I mean, you just woke up and all of this was thrown on you and-.”

“Stiles, trust me when I tell you that I have never been more sure of anything in my life.” He twines their fingers together and tries to explain. “You have to understand, Stiles, this isn’t all that sudden. I grew up not only hearing my parent’s love story, but also knowing the tales of true love and finding one’s mate. Even if it had never happened, it is something that I’ve always been prepared for. And my mate being you doesn’t shock me either.” He ducks his head, watching as his thumb skirts over Stiles’ hand. “I’ve liked you for so long it already feels like forever.” Derek snorts when the words make Stiles’ heart race. “If you don’t believe me, ask Cora. She was the one who was unfortunate enough to deal with all of my pining.”

Stiles swallows, dumbstruck. Derek liked him? Before all of this mate stuff happened? Him? “Well. That’s good. I mean, me too. About you. I’ve liked you too, is what I’m trying to say. I have for awhile.”

A pleased hum rumbles from Derek’s chest, and he looks up at Stiles through his eyelashes. “Good.” Tugging him a little closer, Derek grins. “Does that mean we can try that kiss over again?”

Immediately, and perhaps with a bit too much enthusiasm, Stiles complies with the request, using his free hand to tilt Derek’s head down enough for their lips to connect. It is probably not the best thing to be thankful for a curse, but as Derek hums into the kiss, Stiles can’t help but feel a little glad that Jennifer came along. Because now he has Derek. And well, if that isn’t a happily ever after, then Stiles doesn’t know what is.

[hookedonapirate]

The Princess and Her Sultan

Summary: Crown princess Emma of Misthaven is second in line to the throne, her brother Leopold ll being the first, but her parents see her with a future as a great ruler. King Rumpelstiltskin of neighboring land, strikes a deal with King David, promising to uphold the peace between the kingdoms if Emma marries Prince Baelfire. With the promise of his daughter becoming future queen of the Dark Kingdom, David accepts reluctantly.

Before her wedding day, the princess is kidnapped and taken overseas. She is sold as a slave to a palace where Crown Prince Killian of Neverland ascends his father’s throne and is sworn in as Sultan. Meanwhile, Killian’s mother pressures him to sire a prince and presents him with gifts for his birthday, one of them including a blonde princess from Misthaven. Dazzled by Emma’s charm, intelligence and beauty, he summons her to his bedchambers every night and eventually finds himself casting aside his harem and centuries of tradition.  

A/N: Alright, so here’s the deal, the next chapter is finished, so if you lovelies want, I can post it possibly tomorrow? But then I am going to pause this story to work on the next chapter of AHH, so would you want me to post chapter 8 sooner rather than later? I have so much more to cover with this fic so it’s probably a quarter of the way done if that, but I will definitely be continuing this, I just miss AHH and I know some of you have been waiting so patiently for an update. 

Thank you @gingerchangeling for your wonderful suggestions and ideas for this story, and also @ilovemesomekillianjones for gifting me with your wonderful editing skills at. I also want to give a shout out to @onceuponaprincessworld for being my sounding board, constant cheerleader and good friend, thank you, darling! This story wouldn’t be the same without these lovely ladies!

And all of you have been so supportive and awesome, thank you all for following along and for your feedback!

Rated: Explicit

AO3 l FF.N I Prologue l Ch 1 l Ch 2 l Ch 3 l Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6

Chapter 7

Emma awakes the next morning to the sun shining clear and bright through the windows. For a few moments, she has to remember where she is and how she’d gotten there. After rubbing the tiredness from her eyes and allowing her mind to clear from the heavy haze of sleep until it slowly wanes, she remembers the Sultan had rescued her from the dungeon and had taken care of her. He had returned after a while and had stayed with her past the wee hours of the night before he'd left to sleep elsewhere. A smile crawls across her lips. She will not forget how tender, sweet and protective he was with her.

Emma looks around the room, taking in the luxurious surroundings. Though she had been in the Sultan’s bed since the prior night, she had not been feeling well enough or cared enough to take the time to get a good look at her Master’s bedroom. It’s a large room with rich accessories, yet spartan in its furnishings, with high walls, made of blue, orange and viridian mosaic tiles, and multiple windows overlooking the Sultan’s garden and the vast waters surrounding the palace. The center of the room hosts a low table surrounded by multi-colored cushions, and there’s a fireplace shaped like a copper pyramid with a fire glowing softly, a velvet gold divan across the room and a large wooden chest banded in gilded leather near the terrace doors. The square bed where Emma lays rests on a cream colored dais hung with a canopy of gold and red silk brocade curtains, and supported by columns of fluted silver. The quilts and cushions are of rich crimson velvet, each one laced with pearl.

The bedding is warm and soft, and though she wishes to remain wrapped up in the cocoon of blankets and pillows, she also does not want to overstay her welcome, so she pushes herself out from underneath the covers, the bottoms of her bare feet reaching a soft rug. She stands and slowly stretches her limbs before making her way across the room. She had been bathed and her clothes had been changed, so she’s now wearing a long, ivory colored, silk nightgown. There’s a pale pink robe sprawled over the edge of the bed she assumes is for her, but she decides she will wait to be offered the clothing. She will no longer test the limits of her place in the palace. If she is to rise through the ranks of the harem hierarchy, she will obey the rules and she will wait to be invited and offered things rather than behave and act how she pleases. She knows it will be difficult, but it’s something she must do.

Before Emma can reach the double doors to knock, they spring open, and Mother Superior enters with a large tray of food, the wonderful smells wafting into the room.

“I see you are up,” the petite woman says with a small smile. “Are you feeling better, my child?”

Emma nods and offers a smile in return. “Yes, I am, thank you.”

The Kalfa places the tray on the low table as Emma's eyes widen at the array of food. “Who is this for?” she asks as Mother Superior offers her the robe. Emma inserts her arms in the sleeves, and the other woman drapes it over her shoulders.

“Why it’s for you of course. The Sultan wants you to eat well.”

Emma reverently kisses the back of her hand and presses her forehead to the same spot. “Thank you.”

“You mustn't speak of this to the concubines of the harem,” Mother Superior chides gently, but even a scowl on her face looks soft, showing the kindness underneath her stern facade. “If they heard you were having breakfast in the Sultan's bedchamber, they would lose their minds. We’ve already had to sweep word under the rug that you were sent to the dungeon for sneaking off from the harem. If everyone knew, they would all want to break the rules of the harem with the hopes of the Sultan taking care of them.” Her voice is firm, yet her eyes hold a twinkle of amusement.

Emma bows her head. “I am sorry, Mother Superior, it will not happen again.”

“Say no more, my child, and eat so you can get healthy and strong again.”

Emma obliges and sits on one of the cushions at the table, starting to eat her breakfast, but her eyes are much bigger than her stomach. Nevertheless, she savors the taste of the food, devouring each morsel she can afford in her belly.

When she decides she cannot possibly eat another bite, the doors open and the Sultan passes through the threshold. Emma quickly rises and bows her head.

“How are you feeling, my swan?” he asks in a gentle voice.

“Much better, thanks to you, My Sultan.”

He strides over to her, gently lifts her chin and plants a kiss to her forehead. Emma’s skin tingles and warms at the soft touch of his lips. He draws out a long sigh of relief, his quivering breath fanning her forehead. “I’m glad,” he whispers softly.

“But, I’m occupying your space. I shall leave, Your Majesty.” Emma curtsies and waits for him to excuse her, but he gently takes her arm in his hand to keep her from leaving.

“Wait, love, don't leave yet,” he pleads, his voice cracked. “We must finish something, first.”

Emma cocks a brow at him. “And what would that be, My Sultan?”

Killian grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he extends his hand to her. “Follow me.”

Emma eyes him warily, and slides her hand into his, allowing him to lead her to the adjacent room, which is his study. It dawns on her what he wants to finish, he wants her to finish her turn.

“It would be bad form not to finish the game, love.”

She lets a small laugh spill from her lips and takes a seat while Killian takes the chair across from her.

Before, Emma had to think about where to go next, but now it's clear as day. She moves her queen but does not take his king.

Killian’s brows wrinkle in confusion. “I have allowed you the path to my king, why do you not take it?” he asks softly.

Emma answers easily. “Even as a princess, I never took what was not mine. The same rings true with chess. I will not accept a win I have not rightfully earned.”

Killian nods. “Very well then, my swan.” He follows his statement by placing his hand on the white king and lays it down gently on its side. “I shall resign respectfully then,” he says with a smirk.

Emma's eyes widen at this. How could a Sultan of all people give up his position so easily, even if it is just a game? “You surrender your king to me, My Sultan? But why?”

“Because, my swan, if I had not, we would be dancing around each other for hours to come, and I'm afraid my imperial duties will not allow it.”

Emma has to hold back a laugh at his logic. “Fine, I win this time, but there shall be a rematch another time, of course, if My Sultan allows it.”

Killian nods, a warm smile gracing his lips. “I shall. For now, I will let you get back to your quarters.” Emma rises from the chair, and Killian gently places a hand on her shoulder. “Just promise me one thing, love...”

“Anything you wish, my Master,” she says loyally, staring into his cerulean eyes. She can see the warm gaze he offers her but she also detects the storm brewing within those stunning blue depths, his features clouding with worry. But even with a grave expression, he is still the most handsome man she's ever seen.

“Take care of yourself in the harem. I don’t wish any harm to you, but despite my position in the palace, not everything is under my control.”

Emma nods in understanding, his words crystal clear to her. He fears anyone he loves will receive the same fate Milah did. She bows her head. “I promise, Your Majesty, I will not leave the harem unless you request it so.”

Killian lifts her chin again. “What have I said about bowing your head to me?” he asks in a gentle voice.

A small smile tugs at her lips. “My apologies, Your Majesty.”

The Sultan grins playfully, his cheeks coloring with rosy red. “You are forgiven. Now return to your quarters until I summon you.”

Emma’s green eyes widen in surprise, her mouth slightly falling agape.

Killian's grin only stretches wider across his face, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Don’t act so surprised, my swan. I made a promise to you and I plan on keeping it.” He lifts her hand and presses a kiss to the back of it.

Emma flushes, gracing him with a coquettish smile. “I shall wait for you patiently, My Sultan.” With that, she curtsies once more and leaves him.

She hurries to the harem, where she is greeted exuberantly by her waiting friends.

“Oh, Emma, I am so glad you are okay!” Elsa cries out, drawing Emma into a hug. “We were so worried.”

Anna and Merida take turns hugging her as well, and they sit on the couch to chat.

“Can you keep a secret?” Emma asks them, making sure there is no one within hearing distance. Mother Superior had warned her, but Emma knows she can trust her three friends.

The three girls nod. “Of course.”

Emma speaks quietly. “They kept me in prison for leaving the harem, but I am fine now,” she assures them. “The Sultan rescued me and brought me to his bed to take care of me.”

Elsa's eyes widen. “Oh my, we were told you were ill, but the dungeon sounds worse.”

“Were you afraid?” Anna asks in concern.

“No, and if I were, Mistahavians do not show their fear.”

“Did you really get to sleep in the Sultan’s bed?” Elsa asks.

Emma laughs. “Yes, but he did not join me. It was not exactly the ideal circumstance.”

“Still, the Sultan himself took care of you, that is something,” Elsa gushes. “He must have been very impressed by your chess skills,” she says sarcastically, but at the same time, she’s donning a smile. “I knew you had seen him before, the pool must have been great, but only a man could put a smile on a woman’s face, like the one you wore that day.”

Emma blushes and offers an apologetic smile. “I really wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know if I should.”

“It’s okay, Emma, I’m not mad, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“So, the Sultan took care of you, tell us what it was like?” Anna urges, her eyes buzzing with curiosity.

Merida, on the other hand, rolls her eyes. “Who cares? The Sultan does not impress me. I will never want to trade places with you, Emma.”

Elsa gasps at the redhead. “What have I told you about saying such things about our master?”

Merida’s eyes widen at Elsa. “You, the would-be queen of Arendelle addressing a man as your master, you should be ashamed of yourself! You all should be. Just because he is handsome, does not make him a good man.”

“But he is,” Emma snaps defensively. “I have spoken with him in person. He is like no other Sultan we have ever heard of. He is kind and gentle, you must not speak of him as a lesser man. You should be proud to be his gedikli.”

Merida scoffs. “The three of you have already been cast under the Sultan’s spell. He will take all of us one by one and then turn us against one another.”

“We made a promise to always be friends,” Elsa reminds her. “Besides, I have no interest in the Sultan. He is handsome and kind, yes, but I am content with sitting and watching from the sidelines and experiencing the Sultan through Emma. And as for Anna, another man already has her heart, Kristoff, right sister?”

Anna nods, her face growing solemn. “Yes. Though I will never see him again, he will always have my heart.”

Emma sighs in relief. “Oh, I am so glad, I feared you all would hate me for catching the Sultan’s eye first.”

“Of course we don’t, Emma,” Anna assures her. “We love you no matter what, and we have no intention of betraying our promise to one another.”

Elsa nods in agreement. “Please, do not be afraid. If you adore the Sultan, do not be deterred. You deserve to be happy.”

“As do the three of you,” Emma says, though she cannot tell them how she wishes them to be happy. As much as she wants to, she cannot tell them that in the future they will be freed as slaves and sent back home; if word gets out that Emma is planning to rule the empire and make changes, then anyone with any seniority in the palace would turn against her.

“We are just glad to see you well and happy,” Elsa says, and Emma can feel her eyes prick with tears.

Emma hugs them again, including a reluctant Merida, who is still holding on to the resentment Emma had felt in the beginning, but the redhead also wants Emma to be happy, so she agrees to hold her tongue for Emma’s sake. When Emma turns her head away from her friends, she can't help but notice a blonde woman she’s never seen before, shooting her a death glare from across the courtyard. “Who is she?” Emma asks her friends quietly.

Elsa turns her head to see who Emma’s referring to. The silver blonde frowns. “Oh, don’t mind her, she took your place for the ceremony, but the Sultan frowned in disappointment when he saw her,” Elsa laughs, remembering vividly the expression on his face when Bellina's identity was uncovered.

Emma has to suppress a smile at that. “Really?”

“Yes, I don't think he meant for anyone to see, but he was definitely frowning, and at the time we did not know it, but he was disappointed because she was not you.”

This makes Emma’s heart sing with joy. And here she had spent that entire time in her cell worried he would find another maiden, but instead he had charged out of the Imperial Hall enraged because she was not there to dance for him.

Before Emma can comment, the double doors fly open and Nemo appears, clapping his hands together. The chatter stops and they all stand as the Chief Eunuch approaches Emma. “Gather your belongings, my lady,” he says with a small smile. “Our Majesty has named you as his favorite and has requested you be moved out of the dormitory and to your own apartment.”

Emma gasps in shock. Though she knows he will summon her, she can’t believe the Sultan has made the decision to make her his favorite already. She has been to his bed, yes, but she has not yet given her maidenhead to the Sultan yet. She decides not to question it any further though.

Instead, she rejoices with her friends, and they chatter in excitement as a few attendants move Emma’s things upstairs to her own room. As Emma ascends the stairs to the Apartment of Favorites, she can’t help but notice the blonde woman glaring at her in disgust and walking away. Panic ripples through her. If word gets out about the actual circumstances that had led to the Sultan naming Emma as his favorite, she knows the blonde and the other concubines will start gossiping about how she had gained the Sultan’s favor by breaking the rules. She still doesn't know how the Valide Sultan found out about that. But Emma is confident she would’ve gained his favor no matter what.

She shakes off the negative thoughts and explores her new quarters. There is a large sleeping couch hung with green, silk curtains, a fireplace glowing with small flames on the other side of the room and a pair of double doors which lead to a private terrace where pretty birds chirp in their cedar cages, and the balcony overlooks the sea, She even has use of her own bath with a cascading fountain of scented rosewater, and is allowed her own gedikli as her maid. She chooses Elsa, whom Emma knows will be more than delighted to take the position. Excited about these turn of events, Emma dances blithely around her private apartment, laughing and twirling around like she is five years old again.

“I take it you are feeling much better?”

Emma stops suddenly, feeling dizzy as the room stills. Her eyes widen as they land on Kira, who appears with an attendant, carrying some folded red fabrics. Emma immediately folds her hands together, bowing her head.

“Yes, I am, thank you for asking, My Sultana.”

“Very well. My son has requested your presence this evening. You have two hours to prepare.”

Emma lifts her head, her eyes wide. She’s not surprised he has called upon her, but she’s surprised his mother has come to deliver the message personally, after throwing her in the dungeon.

Kira extends her hand offering a silk, red handkerchief to Emma. “He has asked me to give this to you as a symbol of his affection.”

Emma accepts it, her eyes still wide with disbelief. She takes the Sultana's hand, kissing the back of it before pressing her forehead to the same spot as a gesture of respect. “Thank you so much, My Sultana.”

“I did not decide this, my son did,” she mutters resentfully. “All I ask is that you present yourself as a Neverland lady should and do not do anything to displease my son. Your manners must be flawless.”

Emma nods. “Of course.”

Kira reminds her of a few more details for when Emma enters his chamber. “Custom demands you show your obeisance by prostrating yourself upon entering the room and touching your forehead to the rug, is that understood?”

Emma knows very well of these things already. Nemo has taught her and the gediklis well. “Understood, My Sultana.”

“Very well.” For the first time since Emma's been to the palace, she can detect a hint of a smile curving Kira's lips, pleased to hear Emma's compliance.

Emma's facial expression is impassive, but she is grinning on the inside. She now knows the key to the top of the hierarchy is not only to please the Sultan, but to appease his mother as well.

Kira waves her head toward the fabrics. “My son has requested you wear these garments he has gifted you, and prepare to dance for him. When the time has come for my son to take you to bed, the Eunuch will divest you of your clothes and depart. Then you are to approach the edge of the bed, take the corner of the coverlet in your hand and first press it to your forehead and secondly to your lips. Only then are you allowed to enter his bed. Do so by climbing up from foot until you are on your knees and level with the Sultan.”

Emma has to suppress a smirk since she has already entered his bed, and instead she nods respectfully and listens to the Valide Sultan. Although, she hopes Killian does not actually make her humble herself in such a debasing way.

“Come now, I will escort you to your private bridal bath.”

Emma smiles and follows behind the Valide Sultan, admiring the handkerchief in her hands. According to Neverland culture, an ornate handkerchief is a high compliment, and the one her Sultan has gifted her is very elaborately decorated. It’s embroidered on all four sides with a thick border of gold thread, small seed pearls and intricate designs. She kisses the handkerchief and touches her forehead to the fabric reverently as Kira tells Emma to take good care of it, for it shall be a reminder of her and the Sultan’s first night together. She also tells Emma if she does everything Kira tells her, the Sultan will invite her to his bed again.

Emma has to smile, and not only because she knows this will be just one of a thousand nights she will spend with the Sultan, but she also smiles at the irony of it all. Kira is the one who had sent Emma to the dungeon so she would not be presented to the Sultan, and now Kira is escorting her from the Apartment of Favorite’s to her son’s bed while advising her how to please him. It will only be a matter of time before Emma is pulling the strings of the palace as the Sultan’s wife.

As the Valide Sultan babbles on, Emma’s sweet smile borders on malicious. She is confident knowing Kira will the rue the day she tossed Emma into the dungeon.

Tagging: @andiirivera @kingofmyheart14@courtorderedcake @teamhook @onceuponaprincessworld @nikkiemms @followbatb @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @snowbellewells @artistic-writer @ultraluckycatnd @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @lovepurplepumpkins @kiwistreetswan @therooksshiningknight @deathbycaptainswan @tiganasummertree @superchocovian @emeraldwitches

[lovecanbesostrange]

Okay, it’s almost been a week, the discourse is cluttering my dash already, so here’s that other list of things I’d like to change in TRoS:

(sidenote: people that annoy me 1. Kylo/Ben-stans 2. Kylo/Ben-antis. Only Siths deal in absolutes...)

As mentioned before, the complete sidelining of Rose Tico as a character is bullshit. JJ Abrams ignoring anything from TLJ is the biggest pile of crap ever. You, sir, chose to only do Ep VII, left your precious mystery boxes nobody gives a flying fuck about, because it’s a horrible narrative devise if you yourself don’t have a plan to follow from the get go... it’s your own fault.

It’s such a stupid way to start the film with the crawl and just sprinkling in “so Palpatine is back, has secretly been behind everything and our heroes now try to find and destroy him”. I’m okay with a little jump and skipping a few steps that are easily dealt with with a bit of exposition. But there is so much tell instead of show, it’s not even funny. We skipped a whole movie worth of plot. (And I know it’s tragic we never could see Rey’s whole training.)

I am okay with the overall plot and structure of the film. Mostly being an adventurous scavenger hunt. BUT with just a few tweaks that don’t piss on what TLJ gave us, it’s easily made into a coherent story.

Something I really loved was that ending with the kid using the Force to move the broom. Build on that. Kylo has one thing right - let the past die. Luke was right when he talked about the failures of the Jedi. It’s actually a terrible concept. The Force is everywhere.

You know who is clearly pretty force sensitive? Finn. Holy fucking shit, use that for crying out loud. Yes, Rey’s power is almost unrivaled. It’s raw. The Force likes to run in familes. Same with Kylo. They’re both rather angry people. With extremely different views on how to achieve the somewhat same goal. Kylo puts himself in the center and has no problem killing everybody in his way (civillians included), whereas Rey is the type of person to even help a tiny droid she just met. So let Rey share her power, talk about sharing it, helping Finn to understand what little he has.

Finn doesn’t need to become an adapt fighter doing backflips and making stuff fly. But his intuition, his feeling for right and wrong despite the brainwashing - that is important and a good thing.

A very important moment in the end is when the other ships show up. Lando and Chewbacca rallied the troops, that aren’t actual troops, but ordinary people who have had enough. So just put aside like 10-14min of screentime on this whole sideplot. Let Rose and Finn talk about this, about how common people are affected and that they can rise. Send Rose with Lando and Chewie, give us that kid again with the broom. There is a disturbance in the Force. Because it’s no longer just for a chosen few, it spreads.

Which is something that makes Palpatine shit his pants. Because he is the antithesis to that. He has all the power like nobody before him. This could be an actual theme. (Rey wouldn’t even need to be a Palpatine herself, imagine an truly unremarkable person to have this deep bond with the Force. But the Palpatine-thing makes sense and can work in other ways.)

As great as Keri Russell’s eye make-up is, cut down on the stuff with Zorii Bliss (who is just there as the biggest no-homo for Poe possible -.- ) and focus on the Force spreading and the people rising. Because the Resistance is more than just that bunch of people surrounding Leia. Show me that TLJ ignited a spark.

So, yes, I am very okay with Ben dying. To me this all reads as a parallel to Vader. And well, Ben wanted to be like Vader so much and in the end he learned the important lesson - don’t follow the Dark Side.

Yes, I think Ben had had it rough. His parents shoved him to his uncle, who struggled to built up something he never saw for himself (Luke only knows about the Jedi Order from a bunch of ancient texts, but we needed something new). And Palpatine whispered in his ear, seduced him to the Dark Side. It would’ve been nice to take up the thing from the comics that explained that Ben in fact did not burn down Luke’s temple. Yes, he collapsed a building in self-defense, but he didn’t kill the other students.

Oh, right, dear JJ Abrams, the Knights of Ren. Explain. You brought them up in your first movie and left them shrouded in mystery. Now you brought them back. Without any kind of further explanation. This is what you should’ve shown in your own damn movie.

I like Kylo as the villain. And stop fucking whoobifying him. The whole point of TFA was that Kylo WANTED to choose the Dark Side. And it wasn’t easy. Yes, there is good in him. It took his own willpower to go against that. While I believe that he was seduced, manipulated and mentally abused, he chose to murder people. In secret he hated Snoke and wanted to kill him, which he did, yeah, sure, but he was okay with all the killing that came with it. He is a villain. Built up by the system he seeks to destroy and thus being a part that in the end needs to go.

Sorry, I don’t mind that he dies. Because the thought the movie could make it look like Ben Solo gets to live a life in peace now... yeah no, I didn’t want to see that with Anakin, I don’t want to see that now. He died, vanished and can be a Force Ghost now. Kylo died and Ben was allowed one last heroic deed. I’m very okay with that. Otherwise we would need to have a very long conversation about accountability.

The Skywalkers are dead now and the universe is kinda better for it. Except Skywalker is the name that Rey chooses needs to live on. And here we are back to my main problem - bringing balance to the Force. Such a big topic throughout all the movies. And fucking bring that balance now. I want to believe that this is the legacy in the end. Not one super powerful woman running around, but lots of normal people finding ways to incorporate the Force in their daily lives. (I like that Rey’s saber is yellow, so it is something new.)

I don’t care about the kiss btw. I don’t care if it’s just another moment of passion or a declaration of true love. I don’t have any energy to feel one way or another about it. I’m absolutely neutral. I only feel sorry for people who either think that Rey lost all her happiness and purpose with Ben dying or write long think pieces that Rey is tricked into forgiving someone completely beyond any kind of redemption. See above: stans and antis are annoying the hell out of me alike. More than one onscreen smooch could.

I would’ve liked a smooch between Finn and Rose. A nice sign that they are building a relationship, but then there is this talk where Finn is a bit torn, because he doesn’t want to be separated from Rose, but he also feels this strong pull to be by Rey’s side. And Rose just gets it. She has her own mission, but they are doing it for the same goal and she knows they’ll be reunited. And the thing Finn needs to tell Rey has to do with his force-sensitivity. Because you can’t have this thing of “I need to tell you something” and then never follow through. And then Finn finds the other ex-Stormtroopers and now he understands why he needed to follow Rey. Jannah and her band are a good addition and that should lead us back to Finn’s own backstory.

I don’t want to dissect every scene and change the whole film. Just tighten it up and tying it into the changes TLJ gave us.

Oh right, there is one thing. What if Anakin’s lightsaber stays destroyed (or tell us how that was mended at least -.- ) and Rey would use Luke’s green one instead. So in the end Luke and Leia’s sabers get buried, as the good thing remaining from the Skywalkers. There could’ve been a speech about that. Anakin’s lightsaber snapping in two was an important symbolic scene. But well, Abrams didn’t care... (I know it would’ve required some more work around with the Leia moments. :( )