#and in january i tried really hard to push myself to find at least ONE friend

[skswriting]

.

[angellayercake]

The Diary of Cardinal Terzo

When the Cardinal had asked for your help to tidy up his office, you had thought it was maybe just an excuse to get you alone. He had plenty of reasons to ask for assistance, with his notoriously packed schedule. He took confessions, taught classes, met regularly with other senior clergy members, and had an almost constant pile of paperwork to be completed. It was a wonder he had time for anything else and yet he did. Because if he wasn’t to be found doing any of his endless tasks he was otherwise occupied with an equally endless list of lovers. In his rooms, in the dorms, in the chapel, in the gardens, in dark alcoves and not so dark alcoves, even once in the kitchen. So you couldn’t be blamed for thinking perhaps it was your turn to get better acquainted with the Abbey’s favourite Cardinal. You had only been right about one thing however, you were alone, entirely alone with cupboards and boxes and piles to sort through. He hadn’t even been here when you arrived, all that had greeted you was a note. 

You had done as he had asked. You had tidied the desktop first, sorting through the completed and as yet unfinished paperwork, the stationary tray had been emptied, cleaned and restocked and you had moved on to the drawers. There was, a lot, you found as you pulled it open the overstuffed contents came spilling out, hundreds of receipts and notes and assorted things. You did not envy whoever would be reconciling his expenses this year but scooped them all into a folder so at least they would be together even if they were in disarray. The second drawer is much the same as you sort through the contents setting aside the more personal items. A dog-eared photo of him and his brothers is pushed right to the back but rather than neglect the soft creases make you think it has been handled regularly so you lean it up against the base of his desk lamp while you work. When you get to the bottom drawer you slam it shut almost immediately, not wanting to take the time to discern if the pants inside were used or not. He could think again if he thought you would sort through his trophy collection but with that side done you moved on to the other. The top drawer is surprisingly already tidy, filled with neatly sorted writing supplies, a pile of his monogrammed paper and envelopes, and a collection of sealing wax and stamps. The second drawer down is tidier still containing only a beautifully embossed black and gold diary.

You shouldn't look really, probably, but he had trusted you with his panty collection so a little snoop at his schedule wouldn't hurt would it? Maybe you would even find out when he would be returning so you could greet him with a little surprise. With that in mind you open the cover turning through the first gilded pages until you get to 1st of January. But instead of a list of meetings and engagements you found what appeared to be his journal. You hesitate for a moment but then the subject of his writing catches your attention and your curiosity gets the better of you.

A challenge has been set! As the time ticked over from the old year to the new I found myself most pleasurably occupied. Sister Elouise was below me and Bishop Necropolitus, well he was exactly where I like him.The combination of her tight wet cunt and his thick cock had even my considerable carnal stamina at its limits when she uttered something that almost sent me over the edge then and there. 'Fill me up Cardinale,' she moaned as I thrust into her. 'Oh he liked that Sister.' Necropolis responded having felt the way I involuntarily responded to her words. I tried to pause, to delay the inevitable but he took control of the situation, fucking into me hard and in turn forcing me deeper into Elouise. It was exquisite. 'Would you like to be filled as well Emeritus?' He panted into my nape.'Begin the year as you mean to go on. Creampies to honour our Lord, maybe you will even make it to 666 Cardinale?' I was too far gone to comprehend if he was only joking but as we three came together in perfect grinding friction the idea took root. What better way to lead our congregation in the favoured Sin of Lust? And of course I should record my efforts for posterity. May all future Cardinales follow in my footsteps!

Somehow you had stumbled upon the Cardinal's sex diary and what a read it was and only the first day. This did at least shed some light on his packed social schedule. If he was going to meet his target of 666 he would need to, you paused doing some slow mental maths, 1.8 cream pies a day! And now you were more than intrigued, was he on target to hit his goal? The only way to find out was to read on. Looking around you decide you have been productive enough to earn a break so you get comfortable in his leather desk chair and turn to the next page. 

So ever since reading this the idea of Cardinal Terzo and his 666 cream pies has been circulating in my brain and I knew I had to use it for something. To celebrate the follower milestone I've just hit and to thank you all for being here I thought maybe we could have a look into Cardinal Terzo's 2014 diary, the year before he became Papa and have a read about some of his cream pie related escapades. I would love for people to request a date (and drop any details you want included e.g pronouns, names, kinks, positions etc etc as long as he is coming in something or having something coming in him I'm counting it as a cream pie.) Send it in an ask or send me a DM and let's see if Cardinal Terzo managed to hit his target!! (One last quick disclaimer I know this is the farthest thing from safe sex but let's pretend in this universe there is a special secret satanic sti and pregnancy protection just for fun) 

[akechiguro]

to see you again.

oneshot | shuichi saihara x kokichi ouma

alternate universe - postgame, simulation

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Synopsis | Shuichi Saihara and Kokichi Ouma meet again after the events of the 53rd season of Danganronpa.

Word Count | 3.0k.

Author’s Note | i don’t usually write in first person so this is a change of speed ^^ this is also from january so it’s pretty old, i feel bad for not posting :,D

also posted on ao3! (with minor changes)

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

I still remember our last conversation. It rings like a fucking melody in my ears every time I go to sleep and I hate it. Every time the ear worm starts replaying in my head, it makes me forget about her, she’s the reason I even put myself out there and yet I find myself thinking about his and I’s last conversation rather than hers and mine.

“But, y’know…I…wasn’t boring, right?”

He wasn’t. He never was. He kept me on my feet like a real detective and pushed my limits so far over the edge I was sure I’d come crashing down at some point, but I didn’t. In a way, he saved me from doing that— or did she? Both of them? It doesn’t matter. One way or the other, I’m a better man because of them. Better, sure, but whipped out of my damn mind because of that little scumbag who preferred to play the devil’s advocate in serious situations rather than actually being of some real use.

I thought— no— I knew he died. Investigated his own death with my own eyes, forced another one of my best friends to his execution because of it, and found myself becoming a sobbing mess all over again. Not just for him, but her as well, even if she was some number of months between the two cases. I wasted too much of my time crying over someone I swore up and down I hated. Was it for nothing?

It had to have been. He’s sitting right in front of me right now.

There’s an awkward silence to the room, an unresolved tension lingering in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. His hair is still the same shade of purple, if not a bit darker, maybe a little longer, and he looks taller since we last talked. Ironic. The outfit is near unrecognizable— the strangest feeling of deja vu, and yet, neither of us can remember where we’d seen each other in these clothes.

“So,” he started, taking the liberty of starting our conversation. God knows I can’t. Not after everything I’ve seen, argued for, cried over. He leaned his head against his hand with that certain admiration in his eye I could never quite figure out during the game. I’m glad he’s casual. It helped me calm down a little bit.

“So?” I retort shakily. My hands are trembling, fiddling with the hem of my school uniform’s jacket. I know I said Kaede helped me grow as a person, be more confident, but for some reason I can’t meet his eye.

“How’d you do? You know, after I was gone?” He asked. His tone is more…calm? It’s different from the game’s, whatever persona he took on. He doesn’t seem like a malicious person anymore. Or at least, not acting like he is. But he doesn’t seem totally different, either.

“What do you mean?” I mumbled, and I felt like an idiot. You know what he meant. How’d we figure out it was Kaito, who survived and how we did it, stuff like that. I clenched my teeth and averted my gaze to a wall— plain white with a bit of grime. Well, can’t expect every room in this facility to be squeaky clean.

Kokichi laughed, softly, a strange unfamiliarity striking right through my ears. It’s nothing like how it was in the game. It’s intriguing. “You know what I mean! How did you figure out my plan and all that? Who was the mastermind you and Kaede tried so hard to uncover? I want all the details!”

I blinked. “Oh, uh— right. Well, it took, uh…a lot of probing, I guess, to figure out it was Kaito in the exisal and not you,” I started, gazing off in a random direction to gather my thoughts. “I…well, neither Maki or I could really handle the aftermath of that. For two different reasons, I think,” I chuckled nervously, and this caught his attention.

“Two different reasons? Maki was affected? I didn’t think she cared about anybody!” He laughed again and my heart started beating faster. Why did I have to catch feelings for someone who purposefully made themself out to be a bad person in a game of life and death?

“Yeah, believe it or not,” I smiled, catching his eyes for no longer than a second before deciding the painting behind him was a lot more interesting. Some sort of wave, I think the picture was. “She had a crush on him I guess, ended up threatening Monokuma and all that. Kaito didn’t actually die in his execution, either, it was his sickness that ended up killing him. Had he not had it…” I trailed off, feeling my features soften, “…he would’ve survived with the rest of us. Maki, Himiko, and I.”

“Woah, woah. Slow down,” Kokichi grinned. “Himiko survived with you but not Kiibo? What, did he kill Tsumugi or something? And an execution failed?”

“Yep. His execution failed and that, uh…really pissed off Monokuma,” I smiled. Enough time has passed where names don’t make me flinch anymore, they don’t send my lunch up my throat like they used to. “…You’re not far off from your theory about Kiibo, though. I guess Miu installed lasers and stuff inside of him and he ended up destroying the End Wall so we could escape. The final trial was a redo of the first one, and we figured out Kaede’s plan…”

No. You swore you wouldn’t cry to him when you found out this opportunity was something that could happen. Stay strong.

“…Kaede’s plan failed. Her shot put ball missed,” I explained, voice shaking with each new word. “It was Tsumugi who actually killed him, and who ended up being the mastermind. It…it wasn’t an easy trial,” I laughed bitterly, staring down at the table. I know Kaede is still alive. I know it was a simulation. But that means Tsumugi also lives; the one who orchestrated all of their deaths, left a far deeper cut in my core than any murder attempt ever could, is still walking and breathing. Something about that made it worse.

Kokichi fell back in his chair with a look of shock. “Dang. So how did her and Kiibo end up dead while you, Maki, and Himiko didn’t? Wouldn’t Kiibo’s lasers have killed you, too?”

“Nope. He destroyed the Ultimate Academy while breaking the End Wall, and a piece of rubble ended up falling on Tsumugi. Kiibo, he…he made sure we were safe and protected before self-destructing.”

“So a robot did have some humanity after all,” Kokichi giggled, crossing his arms on the table and letting his head follow. He still looked just as childish as he did in the simulation, yet there was more of a sense of…maturity, maybe? Was that the word? I don’t know. When it comes to him, it feels like no words even come close to describing him.

There’s awkward tension in the air again. There’s so much I wanna tell him and yet none of it is coming out. So much I wanna ask; why put on such an…interesting front? Why sacrifice himself the way he did, especially with the show he’d put on just before his death? Was everything he’d told me about hating me true?

I can’t get anything to come out. I’m just staring at him like an idiot, or maybe admiring, I can’t really tell, myself. I think he notices, too, because he seems totally comfortable in the silence. At least he seems like he does. If I’m not in tune with my own emotions, then I don’t think I ever will be with Kokichi’s, even outside of the game.

“You’re still insecure, aren’t you?” He asks suddenly.

I blinked. “What?”

“I can see it in your eyes, y’know. I may not have the same confidence I did in the game, but I can still read you like a book, Shuichi,” he smiled, something soft in his gaze while he stared at me. Maybe even sincerity. I fully believe him, too. Even the tone of his voice is softer, meeker, and his eyes don’t hold the same mischief and judgment they used to. Is this the real him? What he truly feels? No, not that— he’s not done anything out of emotion. He’s just…talking. And yet somehow my assumption seems correct. “I thought you got over your emo phase,”

I want to counter that. But he’s right. I guess I don’t really have the same confidence I had in Danganronpa, either. “I, uh…I thought I did, at least. Why bring that up?”

“I dunno. You look like you wanna say something.”

“Oh,” I breathed, mentally beating myself up. At the very least I thought I was better at speaking my mind. Well- this meeting should’ve made it obvious to myself that I’m not. “I guess I’m kind of just wondering…how to word this…why? Why were you the way you were? You seem so…” I trailed off, not letting myself finish that. That’s not the only thing I want to ask. Not why I contacted Danganronpa asking for this meeting. But it’s all I can get out right now.

He laughed. “You’re not the first to ask, y’know? I thought my favorite might be more original, but you’re asking such a boring question.”

So others got to him before I did…somehow that’s not surprising. “You’re surprised? I thought you could read me like a book,” I smirked, “I thought you of all people should know why I’m the most interested,”

“Fine, you’re right,” He smiled, adjusting so his cheek laid against a fist. “Welp! I don’t have a good answer to that. I wanted to be the antagonist. Nagito was my favorite in all 52 seasons I saw before applying to Danganronpa,” He laughed.

“Is that…it?” I asked, mentally cringing. That came out rude.

“Yep.”

“I don’t…really believe you,”

He barked out a laugh. It’s the most familiar thing he’s done this whole time. “Wow! A whole couple months after we last talked and you still don’t fully trust me?” He’s weirdly amused, I noticed. Was his in-game personality the real thing? No— somehow this feels like an act.

I shook my head quickly, flustered. “No, no! It’s not that! It’s just, well- it’s not just your attitude I was referring to. You seemed to have it out for me specifically. And Kaito and Miu, I guess, though I can probably assume for them…”

He hums, leaning back in his chair. His arms rested comfortably behind his head, the darkness of his uniform making his hair pop to a lighter purple than it actually is. “Yeah, those two are idiots. I’m surprised Kaito lasted so long,” he giggled quietly to himself, “but as for you…I don’t really wanna tell you that.”

“Huh?” Now that actually surprised me.

“I didn’t hate you or anything if that’s the answer you’re after,” he continued, averting his gaze elsewhere, “but the exact reason..eh,”

I can’t complain, that is the answer I was after. But now I’m just more curious. “Is there a, uh…a reason you can’t tell me the reason?”

Kokichi shrugged. “Nope! Maybe I’m lying though, huh?” He smiled. That itself was a lie. I could tell, somehow.

Another moment of awkward silence.

“Well, what did you think of me?” He asked, adjusting his position back to resting his head on his arms again. Could he always not sit still for this long? Or had I just never noticed in the game?

“Do you not know?” I asked, cautiously. “I…I told you that you’ll always be alone. I- I don’t mean it now, in fact I wanted to apologize for that-“

“Don’t worry about it, Shumai,” He laughed. “It was easy to hate me in the game, y’know? I hated myself!”

“Er…” I glanced down, picking at my nail beds.

“Oh, not to traumadump or whatever the word is,” Kokichi shook his head quickly, “I already knew, actually. I just wanted to hear it come from your own mouth.”

“But I still want to apologize! That was- that was rude of me. What you did was horrible, but it was still uncalled for on my part.” Plenty of people had murdered in the game. Too many, far too many. Was I justified to say that to someone who, more or less, did what he did in self defense?

“But is that all you felt about me?” Kokichi asked, the same cautious tone I’d used earlier. Like he’d said it accidentally, almost.

It kinda shocked me, to hear him ask that. He’s right. That’s not all. It’s the safe answer, the one I’d assumed everyone else had told him. But should I even admit to that other feeling? The one still eating at me, the one I can’t get out of my head no matter how hard I try? He can’t feel the same. Not him.

I took a second to think of a response, holding unsteady eye contact. It was Kokichi who’s eyes darted away momentarily, only to return with the same hesitation. “…No. It’s..it’s not.”

Why not come clean? What are the chances I ever see him again after this? We both will become just another face in the crowd, going about our school lives as though we hadn’t gone through someone so horribly traumatic.

I don’t think Kokichi was expecting my response. His eyes widened slightly, the micro movements of his mouth and eyebrows revealing to me a sort of surprise. I know I’m not a detective anymore, but I’m still attentive. He definitely wasn’t expecting it.

He licked his lips, ever so slightly. They’d gone dry. “What’s that other feeling, then?” He leaned forward, slightly, his eyes falling somewhere else. Lower to my face. The tension’s changed.

My breath caught in my throat, mimicking his actions. “I’m…sure you can guess.” I mumbled, meeting his eyes again. I feel like I’m running a fever, I feel lightheaded, this is a horrible idea…I shouldn’t have said that, I should’ve lied, I should’ve…

…His hand sliding gently over mine, his body to lean further across the table… Should I?

What other chance would I get?

I stood, cupping his face gently and closing the distance. His skin is just as smooth as I remember it being, so strangely soft, yet I can still feel the bones in his cheeks. He’s thin, sure, but it doesn’t seem too unhealthy. His lips are chapped, dry, almost uncomfortable. He chews at his lips, a nervous habit. It’s more endearing than I should think of it being.

He’s quick to kiss back. He tugged at my uniform’s collar, almost needily- hungrily?- like he’d been waiting for this. None of this explains anything that happened in the game. I think it just raises more questions, if anything. But my mind’s too fogged and my face is too hot to think of anything else but our proximity.

It’s only when he starts to fidget with the buttons on my jacket that I pull away, and I can think of absolutely nothing except how much I’m going to regret that. Not because I don’t like Kokichi, honestly, it’s the opposite. I refused it for so long that I think I’m actually in love with him. But I thought it earlier; what are the chances I’m going to see him again after this? I don’t think I can handle a long distance relationship, but I don’t think I’m ever going to get over him. No, no, I don’t think, I know I’m never gonna get over him.

He looked nervous, hand lingering on my clothes for a moment longer before he brought them to his chest nervously. He looked so out of character from what I remembered of him in the game…that Kokichi would probably keep going. This one looks like he’s on the brink of tears. “Pausing for air, or..?” He asked, trying to laugh it off.

I shook my head. “We can’t do this, Kokichi.”

“Why not? You kissed me!” He’s getting defensive. I should’ve seen this coming.

“I know! I know, that was…my mistake. It’s not that I don’t want this,” I started, grabbing his hand and slinking my fingers through his, “I…I’ve been denying how much I’ve wanted to do that for entirely too long. But it’s…I don’t know where you live. We don’t go to the same school, hell, we might not even live in the same part of Japan. I don’t…want to commit to something I can’t maintain.”

He looks defeated, for far longer than I would’ve liked. I feel horrible. But quickly perks up. “Well, where do you live?”

“Huh?”

“You can’t just kiss me and then go on this whole rant about why we can’t be together and then expect me not to ask where you live!” He smiled. “Where you from?”

“Oh.” I take a second to think. Are we even allowed to tell each other that? Fuck, of course we are- why wouldn’t we be? “Uh, Okinawa. I wear…probably too many layers for how warm it is compared to the rest of Japan,”

He smiled. A lot brighter than I would’ve imagined. “And you’re not lying?”

“No! Why would I?”

“I’m from there, too! No way that’s a coincidence!” He giggled like a child, freeing his hand to wrap them around mine. “I don’t live with my parents, they’re from Aichi. Just my older brother. But it’s crazy lucky I do, right?”

I stood there, dumbfounded. I was worrying for nothing? “So…so that means—“

“If you break my heart, Shumai, DICE is a real organization. They’ll kick your ass!” He laughed, dropping my hands to grab me in a hug. It’s so unfamiliar. In game Kokichi…no, I need to stop thinking about him.

“Y-yeah..! Yeah, I’m sure Kaede or Kaito will have your head in seconds if you, uh..break mine, too.” I laughed, awkwardly returning the action.

I still don’t know a lot about Kokichi. I don’t know about his family or how his school is or even if this version of him is the real one. There’s still so much I need to learn about him, that he needs to learn about me, but somehow, I know it’s going to be easier with us. I don’t think I’ll ever forget our last conversation as characters in a television show. The game, I think, forever changed who we are as people. But it’ll work out. We’ll be okay.

We’re gonna be great.

[ohh-kaye]

2023 Resolutions

Not gonna lie. I failed miserably this year.

I don't know if I should retire this because I honestly just cannot be bothered.

EDIT: this reloaded and deleted all my progress. i will actually un-alive myself right now.

what a fucking mess

let’s review this nonsense. this is going to be extra extra salty because i can’t believe i have to fucking write all this bullshit again.

2022 Resolutions

1. Manage my finances (NO)

i didn’t even try at this. i made an excel sheet for the first payslip that i received and i didn’t even progress after that. i don’t know if i’ll ever be good at this because i can barely look at my bank account without retracting into myself. maybe i’ll use an app next time? 

2. Weekly IG dumps (YES)

I love that I did this. It was a good challenge because I actually had force myself to document something. I had to find something interesting that happened that day. I stopped taking photos of myself years ago because i couldn’t stand to exist in my life. I still don’t but I’m trying to be better at appreciating myself. I’m also easing myself back into social media without it manifesting itself into a toxic beast. i think i’m getting better at it.

there were days that i forgot to post on the friday so i would post the day after and my captions became less and less well thought out but i’m glad that i pushed myself to be out there a little bit.

3. New Instrument A Month (BAAHAHAAHAHAHAHA no)

I opened this tab of drumming basics. Did I open that tab at any point after january??? nope. to quote my brother “It’s impossible to learn a new instrument a month. That’s 12 instruments in total”. When he put it into perspective like that, I knew this goal was unachievable.

It’s okay though. I’m not super cut about this.

4. HelloFresh? Or any healthy food service? (NO)

I was highly considering this but in hindsight, there’s no practical way for this to be a applicable because there’s no space in the fridge. And my eating times have changed drastically this year. Mostly I’d be eating just lunch and dinner. Sometimes breakfast and lunch. Sometimes just breakfast. Sometimes just lunch. Sometimes just dinner. Rarely all three at the same time. And I’d eat at random points throughout the day. It’s a mess so I didn’t really think that this was that viable of an option to eat healthier.

5. 18 or more books (YES!)

This was only on here so that I could at least pass one thing. I read 19 books. I was aiming for 20 but I sadly didn’t make it. This challenge will present a lot harder in the next coming years because I’m averaging 18 ort 19 books a year. I really need to be better. Maybe write those long-ass reviews a bit quicker.

Honestly though the reviews take longer than necessary.

6. GET BANGS? or a new hairstyle? (YES!)

These were my COVID bangs. I think everyone will cut their bangs at one point or another and mine just happened to be during COVID when I was bored out of my mind.

7. Pass the GAMSAT? (let’s stop the nonsense)

what a mess. what do you think???

YES - 3

NO - 4

oof.

2023 Resolutions.

1. Read 20 books!

My Goodreads says 19. Tumblr says 20. Maybe this is just to push myself. I really want to read more books to prepare myself for my last challenge of 24 books in a year. So far it’s not possible but if I try hard enough. Maybe???

2. Book a hair appointment

nothing. AND I MEAN NOTHING has traumatised me more than that time when i was 10 years old and my mum took me to nail salon to have my hair cut into a boy cut as punishment because i didn’t brush my hair properly. NOTHING HAS TRAUMATISED ME MORE. I haven’t been into a hair salon in 9 years. that’s because i refuse for people to touch it unless they have consent. my cousin was allowed to bleach it (but now she isn’t) and i sometimes as my brothers to cut an inch off every few months or so. but otherwise, no one is allowed to touch it. i will threaten to shave my head it anyone tries.

but i’m feeling brave in that i may book a curl appointment? maybe commemorate my near decade of hair salon trauma by having someone cut my bangs properly and have my hair shorter??? why not.

3. Go to the gym at least once a week?

Anytime Fitness has emailed me recently asking why I haven’t been to the gym for weeks. this is not good.

i may have been forced to get a gym membership for discount purposes but i still need to make use of the stupid amount of money i pay.

maybe i’ll be extra brave and use something other than the stair master.

4. Learn a new instrument/ Learn a new song

This is a double because I probably just want to either learn a new instrument or learn something new on my ukulele. for the longest time i had avoided picking up a new instrument or any instrument for that matter because of maybe jealousy of my brother because he is a good guitarist and maybe lack of time because of the transition from high school to uni to job. it’s too hard. maybe it’s mainly my lack of motivation. but perhaps now that i have to keep myself accountable, i may push myself?

5. Vlog?

I did this challenge in 2022 on IG that i would post weekly posts. it’s one photo a day. i really enjoyed that. I don’t know it straight up vlogging is good because it seems like such a tall hurdle but maybe i can do what i did last year but it in reels??? it’s a mini vlog? maybe? something? anything. i didn’t think this through. i just bought a camera and hoped for the best.

6. Manage my finances

let’s try this again. i maybe will start by putting away a portion of my savings. maybe open a separate account and chuck a little bit in there and i don’t touch that unless needed. let’s start small.

7. GAMSAT

we will keep this goal on here until i have means to delete it.

i’ll be nice to myself this year and only do that much. let’s not drag this. odd numbers will make it easier to know if i succeeded.

reflection time!

i think i’ve improved a little but. not drastically though. I’m 25 now. i’m closer to 26. in 2024, i would’ve been in australia for 10 years and i have nothing to show for it.

if i dwell on this for too long then it’ll make me sad and i don’t really want to do that anymore. it’s wasteful.

i’ve improved my confidence a little bit. i’ve made friends at work. i was invited to a christmas party which was nice. i’ve stood up for myself against my family during that america trip we had. i travelled overseas this year without my parents and with planning that was done independent of them. i take photos of myself now. i’m trying to be better with my physical health by going to the gym and making sure i keep my steps up, and my mental health but not necessarily caring too much about how i look, and what i eat. maybe nonchalance is good for me.

i just hope that this year is better.

[thisaccisdead]

montreal - roman hurt/comfort

pairing: this was written to all be platonic prinxiety, but can definitely be interpreted romantically !

warnings: unconventional self harm, non-graphic descriptions of wounds/injury

summary: a post-POF roman hurt/comfort fic in january 2021? yes <3

word count: 3.2k

notes: large portions of this were salvaged from one (1) night last summer at 4am when i was having a . time. the rest has been mainly recently written before i go to bed, with some extra bits added during my history classes B)) also shout out to [REDACTED]. u may not read this but if u do, i hope u know who u are & ilu

Virgil had been trying to calm himself down for the better part of an hour, as soon as they got back from the wedding fiasco; and he was doing a relatively okay job. Considering the circumstances, at least. Or so he thought, when he registered a spike in Thomas’s anxiety. This only served to make Virgil more anxious, because he had thought he had been doing well—until, he realized it wasn’t anxiety, not exactly, not fully—and it wasn’t coming from him.

Once he'd figured that out, it wasn't hard to trace the feeling to the imagination. He paused at the door. If this was where the strongest negative emotions were coming from, he already knew which side this was about. And could he really be surprised? Roman had wanted that callback for so long. Even at the court case, even when Roman gave Thomas his sentence, Virgil knew it killed him. And Virgil didn't do anything. Because he was so fucking scared of Thomas being bad, or of Janus winning, or something, and now whatever was going on was his fault, and--

And now was not the time for these thoughts. He breathed in. He opened the door.

Immediately, he was coughing out soot, heat burned his cheeks, his eyes blurred with protective tears forming against the smoke. It was hard to see, let alone process, what was happening. Then, he caught sight of the Dragon Witch. And he caught sight of—

“Roman!” Virgil choked on the yell, coughing again.

Obviously Roman couldn’t hear him from the distance, especially considering the brutal roar of the creature. Adrenaline kicked in, and as Virgil began to sprint towards the prince, he took in the entirety of the scene with alarm. Roman was...fighting, sure, except that Virgil had seen him fight before, and this... wasn’t right. Roman bested manticore-chimeras like it was a breeze, he HAD bested the Dragon Witch herself in every form she took, “just for training.” He always moved like he was in a ballet, not a battle, like it was more for show than challenge, and now...

Virgil watched Roman fall to a hard swish of the creature’s tail, and stay there. He almost expected the Dragon Witch to take mercy, or at least, to accept an early victory. But he watched her rear back, raise a taloned hand, the magma-red in her throat glowing brighter and brighter—just as Virgil got close enough to let fight win over flight.

Virgil crashed into Roman; they rolled just far enough that the swipe of claws only ripped the edge of Virgil’s jacket.

Immediate danger out of the way, Virgil clenched his eyes tight, trying to do it how Logan taught him. He found something that didn’t make sense--the grass. The grass was dry, therefore it should have been burning, but it wasn’t. He took that foothold to dispel all the fantastical elements of the scene, Dragon Witch and all her carnage blinking from existence. The new calm of the scene was jarring.

That just left a great big field, Virgil, and one absolute dumbass.

"What the fuck, Princey?!"

Virgil’s voice was distorted with stress, and Roman stared up at him wide-eyed, unsure—even terrified in a way that hurt. Virgil quickly pushed himself up so he wasn't pinning the other. Roman tried to copy this movement, only to groan, start coughing, and fall back again.

“Shit, I—“ Virgil looked at his hands and found red on them, looked at Roman and saw the color painting his chest. “I thought I dispelled all the imaginary stuff, why—?“

“Left brain sides can only dispel so much of what right brain sides feel,” Roman said, voice rough and thin and upsettingly casual, “Since they feel so real to me, you can’t get rid of them.”

“They feel…? Christ, ok, you need a medical kit, uhm—“ Virgil closed his eyes again; he was notoriously shitty at summoning things, and he had to concentrate for this—

“That’s ok; I’ve got it,” Roman said, letting out a quiet hiss as he propped himself up on one arm, and summoned the medical kit with the other, “You can go now.”

Virgil gaped at him in disbelief. When Roman attempted to stand up, and Virgil could no longer deny he wasn’t joking, he exclaimed, “Like Hell am I going, idiot!”

Roman just stared at him, and Virgil cursed under his breath. “Ok ok, let’s just... we should do this in the bathroom, uhm—“

Virgil awkwardly clambered over to Roman again, taking his hand, so he could blink them over together. He knew it would probably be more comfortable for Roman to sink in and out, but considering Virgil wasn’t practiced at that, he wasn’t going to risk screwing it up.

They apparated into the bathtub, and Virgil scrambled up, taking the med kit from Roman's hands.

Ok, ok, now Virgil just had to remember that one time Logan lectured them all on “Side Safety.” He took a shaky breath and washed his hands quickly, before turning back to Roman. He allowed himself to fully assess the prince this time and… Jesus. He was slumped against the back of the tub, having given up his attempts at composure while he thought Virgil wasn’t looking. His litany of scrapes, cuts, bruising, his shallow breathing, and--most of all--the wet, red patch slowly growing on his shirt, sparked renewed panic in Virgil.

“Ok, fuck, ok--let’s do this,” Virgil said, mostly to himself, as he knelt down by Roman to undo his already tattered shirt and take a wet towel to his chest. He had to suck in a breath at the sight of the jagged wound, a nauseous feeling catching up to him.

“You’ve already done a lot, you know,” Roman insisted. “You can--”

“If you tell me to go, Princey, I swear I’ll make these wounds worse myself,” he said, not meaning it in the slightest, which he would assume Roman knew--but the way Roman flinched and shut his mouth told a different story. “Shit, I didn’t mean that. Of course I didn’t mean that!”

Roman glanced away, and Virgil reached to cup his cheek, an instinct he didn’t know he had. Luckily, he caught himself in time to retract his hand. They both avoided eye contact for a second; Virgil cleared his throat; and he reached for the bottle of hydrogen peroxide before pausing. He vaguely recalled Logan mentioning how strong alcohols would only cause more harm, and they should just stick to mild soap instead. He gave the cut a longer look-over—it was certainly not a pretty sight, but probably not as bad as it looked. It was large, but not too deep. Plus, as sides, it would heal itself without needing anything like stitches or professional medical work. The past scars littering Roman’s body were proof of that. Actually--had he always had this many scars? Virgil squinted. How often did he do this?

Virgil finished cleansing and bandaging the wound to the best of his ability, with little talk beyond the occasional, soft “sorry” at Roman’s winces. When he had finished, he gave Roman his hoodie (an action the Prince was too tired to take much notice of), since summoning a new shirt seemed like a waste of whatever energy he had left.

“Ok, Princey, all done. Uhm, are you—how, how are you?” Virgil mentally kicked himself.

A small, bitter smile tugged at Roman’s lips for just a moment. He opened his mouth and then closed it, and finally shrugged. “Thank you for your help.”

It hurt, Virgil realized. Roman’s quiet voice, where near-shouting was his usual speech. His unkempt hair sticking to his forehead, where it was usually styled to be very lightly and intentionally ruffled. The bags beneath his eyes where there was usually concealer. All of it hurt.

Virgil sucked in a breath. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m being annoying, but I hope you know there’s absolutely no way I’m leaving yet.”

“Virgil,” Roman almost said it as a whine, which was closer to his usual style, so Virgil considered it progress.

“Roman,” Virgil deadpanned back.

Roman huffed. “Maybe I need space to really explore my feelings, and you’re actually being a terrible friend right now,” he argued.

“Uh-huh, well being a terrible friend is always my favorite, so,” Virgil leaned down, fumbling slightly as he picked Roman up bridal style, “We’re gonna get you to bed, and you can explore your feelings by sleeping.”

“Great, now you’re damsel-in-distressing me,” Roman said sarcastically, but he leaned his head into Virgil’s chest as he did so, which kind of ruined his point.

“Yeah, yeah. Act more like Megara next time, and maybe it’ll be different.”

•••

Roman groaned upon waking up. His whole body ached, but mainly it was focused around a sharper pain in his chest. He let his eyes flutter open, only to find Virgil staring at him from his desk.

“Ah,” Roman uttered, a jumble of memories from the past few hours returning. They felt foggy and mildly icky, but mainly the pain in them was the numb kind of pain, the tired kind. Really, it was indistinguishable from the dull ache of his bruises and cuts.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, as though he understood, even though he couldn’t possibly. “Uh, wanna talk about it?”

It was clear Virgil felt awkward asking the question. It was unclear whether that was due to his tendency to be embarrassed by everything he said, or—far more likely—that he wanted to stop babying a stupid prince, and just go about his business.

Roman sat up, suppressing a wince as best he could. “Do you want to hear about it?”

“Of course I do.” Virgil said it without an ounce of hesitation. Roman’s breath caught.

“Oh.” Roman shifted slightly over, and Virgil took a seat by him on the bed. “Okay. Uhm. I don’t know, I just—I messed up.” What else was new?

“...What did you mess up?” Virgil asked, with an inkling of suspicion, like he knew what this was about. But it wasn’t that; it wasn’t the callback—that was over and done and dead. Roman had created so many fantasies, so many crazy scenarios where they could somehow still make it in that stupid movie, and it had always filled him with hope or crushing pain or something, but as of this afternoon? He didn’t even care. It didn’t matter.

So, Roman ignored the question, and instead commented, “Janus got accepted.”

“What the fuck.”

Roman observed Virgil’s stricken expression like an unsettling kind of mirror of himself when—

My name is Janus.

“Yeah,” Roman sighed, “I didn’t take it so well either.”

Virgil looked at him for a long moment, seeming to go through several series of emotions, before he was able to ask, “...What happened?”

Roman inhaled sharply. “I was wrong about being wrong about the wedding. Patton was also wrong; Janus was right, and then Patton was right because he wasn’t a total asshole to Janus, and I’m evil; Thomas hates me; whatever, you get it.”

He thought he would break down, saying it, but he felt oddly… fine. He sat, staring at the same spot as he was before, absentmindedly annoyed at the way his bandages itched. The normalcy of the situation almost made it worse. This sucked. This wasn’t even bad.This was the worst he had ever felt.

“Oook,” Virgil said, clearly not knowing where to start, “I—you—what do you mean: Thomas hates you?”

“Thought that one was self-explanatory.”

“He can’t hate you,” Virgil said with a laughable amount of conviction. “You’re still his… y’know.. goals. Desires. Hopes. Whatever. Just because this one didn’t go… perfectly, doesn’t mean you won’t keep—“ he struggled to find the phrasing for a moment— “...fighting, uh, valiantly for Thomas’s dreams!” he attempted at the encouragement with a weak smile.

Roman just shook his head. “No. I don’t know what he wants.”

Virgil’s smile dropped into confusion. “But… you are his wants.”

“That’s kind of the problem.”

Virgil seemed at a loss, and Roman felt like an asshole. Here he was trying to help him, and Roman couldn’t even be bothered to put on a smile to dismiss him from the duty.

“Please go,” Roman attempted weakly when he couldn’t find a more convincing argument in himself. He was meant to be an actor, but he knew he couldn’t hide the fact that he wanted him to stay, of course he did, so badly. He hoped Virgil would just quit with the chivalry and go despite that.

Virgil sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I'm going about this all wrong.”

Roman knew it probably wasn’t really him Virgil was mad at, but it was hard not to shrink away anyway.

“Look, Roman—“ Virgil turned to him, looked at him seriously, took his hands in his— “To be honest? I don’t care what happened. I don’t care who was right or wrong—I mean, we all know I’ve been in the wrong more than my fair share. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Roman didn’t miss the ambiguity of the end statement. “But… look, you don’t get it. When you mess up, you’re still you. You’re still...,” Roman gestured vaguely, which upset his bandages, and when he looked down at himself, he took note of the black/purple hoodie he was wearing. He melted slightly. This was exactly the point he was trying to make, “You’re still... y’know. Important.”

“Wh—? Of course you’re important, Ro. You’re creativity—“

“Thomas has two of those.”

Virgil looked at him like he was stupid. “Right, as if you’re anything like Remus.”

Roman’s lip quivered at that, and he had to look away, which was so stupid. And suddenly he felt all of the embarrassment at once—of this situation, of everything that had happened before, of the way he was about to cry, in front of Virgil, after he said that, which must look so—

“Roman?”

A hand was on his cheek, softly turning his face towards Virgil’s, though Roman still refused to meet his eyes.

Virgil cursed to himself under his breath. “Shit, this is exactly what I was trying not to say.” He sighed, and Roman hesitantly looked up at him. “Look. Even if you weren’t creativity, if you weren’t hopes or dreams or any of it—if you were a completely pointless side, which you aren’t, but if you were—I wouldn’t care. What I care about is that you’re... Roman. That you bother me until I sing Disney with you, that when you put your heart into something, you do it to a stupid amount, that you make Thomas take trashy buzzfeed soulmate quizzes when he’s stressed, and that you fucking try so hard for everything, even when I’m being a little bitch about it,” he paused. With the hand on Roman’s cheek, he traced the line of a scar down his jaw. It was one of the ones Roman usually made sure to put an illusion over, he noted offhandedly. “I care, because you’re my best friend.”

“Don’t say that,” Roman choked out. He couldn’t handle it if it was a lie, and part of him couldn’t manage hearing it as anything but exactly that. “Just—just—“

“Oh, Princey..”

Virgil held him as he broke. Roman didn’t know how long they sat like that as he let everything wash over him for a final time, let it all truly sink in at long last. He took heaving, messy sobs, no doubt ruining Virgil’s shirt in the process—he was quiet, though. He shook silently, save a couple choked breaths, in the other’s arms--that was a habit he had taught himself long ago.

When Roman had tired himself out, when all that was left was the pain in chest, (which was also suddenly duller—he was healing fast, even for a side—) he pulled back from the embrace. Virgil didn’t move by much, kept them so their fingers were laced together, as they sat staring at each other.

“Uhm. Thanks,” Roman gave a shaky smile, “You really—uh... I... I said some stupid stuff, huh?”

Virgil hesitated before he spoke, as if he knew he shouldn’t ask this right now, but needed to anyway. “...Roman, why’d you go to the Imagination?”

Roman felt ice stab at his chest upon the question. He didn’t want to do this. They had already talked about so much that he shouldn’t have gotten into; this was meant to be the part where they either parted or watched a stupid movie. And this, out of everything, was the conversation he most needed to avoid.

“Uh—I mean, to let off steam?” Roman gave a laugh as best he could. “Obviously, it didn’t go to plan—“

“Didn’t it?”

Roman’s face fell immediately. He struggled to come up with an answer, and even if he had had one, he didn’t think the sound would come out. This was enough of an answer in itself

“Shit,” Virgil breathed. Roman couldn’t help but be mildly annoyed by his surprise—clearly he had already known, he didn’t have to make it a big deal now.

“I… Princey—Roman…” Virgil looked him up and down, and Roman wanted to curl up and hide. “...how many times?”

“Not many,” Roman mumbled. Virgil must have known he was pushing the subject too far, because he just frowned and said,

“OK. I mean...it’s not OK, obviously, but you already know that, I just—“ he sighed. “Just… can you talk to me? Instead? Please? When you feel like… that.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Roman responded hastily, wanting an out from this topic.

Virgil gave him a look. “I’m serious. I mean—look, you don’t even have to talk about it if you don’t want. Just, come to me first, yeah?”

Roman’s face burned; he was embarrassed; he wanted to shrug this whole thing off, or roll his eyes, or maybe scream in annoyance. But the rational part of him knew Virgil was right. “OK,” he agreed softly, “...Thanks. For everything.”

Virgil looked surprised, and then flustered, and then waved off the earnest reply. “I mean, it wasn’t--I didn’t--it’s not like I did anything really--”

“You did.”

Virgil’s face softened. “Yeah, well... you’d’ve done the same for me. You... have done the same for me.”

Roman smiled gently at him. “By the way, Virge--” He hesitated. He was about to sound like a real dumbass if Virgil had only been saying this stuff for comfort’s sake. But making a fool of himself was becoming a theme for him anyway, so he continued, “You’re my best friend too.”

I love you.

In the same beats Roman thought it, Virgil squeezed his hand lightly 3 times. A breath passed between them. An understanding. That Roman couldn’t say it out loud, and Virgil wouldn’t.

Instead, Virgil fell back across the bed, bringing Roman with him in the motion. Roman let out a startled gasp and elbowed him lightly. “Hey! I’m injured, that could have been a fatal impact for me!” he whined.

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, yeah, OK. So, do you wanna watch a stupid movie, or what?”

[holycatsandrabbits]

Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 4

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

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Chapter 4

1997 (One year later)

The convention center had been beautiful under the blue Minnesota sky when Liam had arrived, and it was still beautiful now with its windows backed by heavy showers of falling snow that threw diffuse, moving light onto the walls inside the conference room. Beautiful and alarming.

Liam’s university was located in Florida. Florida was quite nice in January, and besides, there were theme parks. Didn’t people always like theme parks? But instead, the conference was being held in Minnesota, and this was the final day. In an hour, Liam and his colleagues, other faculty of the history department, were supposed to start the twenty-some-hour drive home.

“Could have been at Disney World,” Kurt remarked, startling Liam. Liam had been too busy watching the storm to realize Kurt had come up beside him.

“What on earth?” Liam asked, quite rightfully surprised, not by Kurt’s sudden unexpected presence, as he was used to that by now, but because Kurt was not a history professor, and therefore didn’t have a reason to be at the conference.

“Thought I’d drop in,” Kurt said. “See how things were going. Anyone interested in your research on Tollense?”

“Everyone. It’s very exciting.” Liam kept his voice low. “Am I talking to myself, or can everyone else see you?”

Kurt smiled at him. “I wouldn’t give you that kind of reputation. I’m visible.” Liam could see it was true, as Kurt’s good looks were attracting a few appreciative glances. “Are you ready to come home?” Kurt asked.

“Yes, we’re due to head out soon. Not that we’re really looking forward to it.”

“Well, your co-workers can head out whenever they like. I’m taking you home.”

“What?”

Kurt looked surprised by Liam’s surprise. “You’re from Florida. You have no idea what to do with snow. They’re pulling locals off the roads, Liam. I'm not letting you drive in this weather.”

“But you don’t even know how to dr— wait.” Liam felt a bit of a shiver crawl up his spine. “Oh, no. I’m not teleporting home.”

“I’ve been doing it for thousands of years. With humans. You know that. It’s perfectly safe.”

“No.”

Now a bit of hurt flashed over Kurt’s features, and like all his dark expressions, it was vaguely unsettling. “You don’t trust me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t want to teleport.”

“Why on earth not?”

Liam hated to lie to Kurt. Partly, it was because Liam was not entirely sure that Kurt couldn’t somehow tell that he was lying. Kurt claimed that he couldn’t read minds, but he was a vampire who could teleport himself from Florida to Minnesota, and Liam would not have been at all surprised to find that Kurt was aware of the snowstorm confronting Liam without having checked the weather.

But it was also true that Kurt was Liam’s best friend and it seemed wrong to lie to him. Except Liam couldn’t tell him the truth about this, because that wasn’t going to help anyone. It was better if Kurt didn’t know that Liam was in love with him, that for over a year now, Liam had been obsessed with the memory of Kurt kissing him, slow and sweet, and that the last thing Liam needed now was for Kurt to pull him close and show off his impressive supernatural abilities in a rescue. Kurt had made it clear that he never allowed himself to fall in love with humans that he met, and Liam had to be protective of his heart, already cracked and in danger of breaking.

“Look, if you are so dead-set on it, you can use your mind-control powers to convince me,” Liam joked, and immediately realized that was worse than lying, because Kurt flinched.

“If I do that,” Kurt said, in what sounded like a carefully controlled voice, “I will lose you anyway.”

“Wh— you’re not going to lose me. I’ll get a hotel, then. Drive home later.”

“I don’t want you driving to a hotel!” Kurt looked exasperated. “Liam, you are the most adventurous person I know. Why not this?”

“Oh, I’m hardly—”

“Yes, you are. You’re like an explorer, always hungry for something new and unusual. You’re brave, and not terribly cautious, which is bad for your driving habits, but it’s perfectly safe when it comes to me, because I am never going to let anything happen to you.”

Kurt had stepped close, and Liam could tell how upset Kurt was because Kurt was losing his grip on the human appearance and mannerisms he tried to put on. Right now he looked sleek and strong and shadowy. He didn’t reach for Liam with his hands, but Liam could feel something surrounding him, like a faint cool mist. It felt oddly familiar, and Liam got the impression that the mist might actually always be there, a piece of Kurt holding onto him, and Liam had just never been consciously aware of it before.

And then everything suddenly snapped back into place: Kurt looked ordinary again, and Liam realized with a shock that a couple of his colleagues had approached them.

“What do you think?” asked one of them. “We’re talking about getting a hotel.”

“I have a ride home,” Liam said faintly. Everyone looked at him in surprise, including Kurt. Few of Liam’s fellow faculty had met Kurt, partly by Kurt’s design, because he wasn’t terribly social, and partly by Liam’s. Liam was aware that his very close friendship with a very handsome man was likely to give him a certain other reputation, one that was quite deserved (though sadly not much practiced), but not very wise in the current political climate.

Nothing for it now. “Chris Mullens, Doris Sullivan, this is my friend Kurt, ah, Smith. He was in town for something else and is heading back to Florida today. He offered me a ride.”

“Is it safe?” Doris asked, looking concerned.

“Kurt’s a very good driver. Got a— a car like a tank.”

Doris laid a hand on Liam’s shoulder, and to Liam’s surprise, Kurt seemed to bristle at that, almost literally, and the whole room seemed to go with him, the air around them feeling oddly sharp. Liam understood that Kurt was concerned that he’d change his mind and be convinced to travel with his colleagues, but it undoubtedly looked like something else from the outside— a sort of possessiveness.

“What a nice friend,” Chris said lightly, looking at Kurt in a way that Liam did not like at all, as if Kurt was not a person but a problem, not a good-looking man but a tempting trap. Liam’s personal belief was that men who were so vehemently opposed to homosexuality were probably terrified that they themselves might be vulnerable to such a “trap,” but it was better if that went unsaid.

Kurt rescued him, of course. “Yes, Liam and I have been friends for a while. I used to date one of his students, Martina.”

Chris’s face cleared a bit, losing some of its distaste. He had apparently not heard of bisexuality, or whatever word might describe Kurt. “Oh. Sure.”

“Ready to go?” Kurt asked Liam. He barely waited for an answer before steering Liam out of the room. They walked down an empty hallway where the storm winds were pushing hard enough to make the windows shift in their frames. Kurt spoke in a gentle voice. “Give it a few years. The world is becoming more tolerant again. Humans keep discovering their natures over and over.”

“This must all be very trite to you.”

“Not in the least.” Kurt’s eyes were sharp on him. “Do you think Chris is the one sending you those threatening letters?”

Liam scoffed. “He barely knows how to tie his shoes. Worse than even the typical history professor.”

Kurt looked unconvinced. “I’ll keep an eye on him all the same.” He held out a hand to Liam. “Let’s go home.”

Liam looked down at Kurt’s hand. A pale blue vein ran delicately along his wrist, and Liam wondered what flowed there, if anything. “What about my luggage?”

“I already picked it up from Dr. Sullivan’s car. It’s at your place.”

“You’re awfully confident that I’d say yes to this.”

Kurt sighed, exasperated. “I can’t believe you haven’t asked me sooner. I thought I’d be taking you to the Louvre every weekend. Or Rome. At least Antietam.”

Liam laughed. “I should have.”

Kurt smiled, looking at ease for the first time since he’d arrived. “You should.”

“Next weekend then.” Liam finally took Kurt’s hand, and their fingers fit together easily. As always, Kurt was slightly cool to the touch.

The convention center faded away into a sort of bland white light. Liam felt like he was floating, but still with his feet planted on the ground. He looked down and found his own office floor beneath his shoes.

“Stay still a moment,” Kurt warned. “People can get dizzy when they’re not used to it.” He dropped Liam’s grasp and put a steadying hand on his arm instead. And now was the moment Liam had dreaded: Kurt was so close, so strong, and so hauntingly strange.

“We must seem so very fragile to you,” Liam said.

“You are fragile.” There was a harsh coldness in Kurt’s voice.

“So how did you learn to do that? To teleport?”

Kurt shrugged. “Just always could.”

“Always?” Liam frowned. “I thought a vampire’s abilities were based on age.”

“They are.”

“But if you’ve been doing it as long as you can remember— since at least Tollense— doesn’t it follow then that your origins would have to be a great deal older than that?”

Kurt narrowed his eyes, considering.

“Or else,” Liam said, “maybe you’re not a vampire.”

“I drink blood.”

“A lot of creatures— uh, beings— are said to drink blood. I’m sorry, it must be so frustrating not to be able to remember.”

Kurt looked at him with a sort of gratitude, but then he turned away, toward the door. A second later, there was a knock, and Kurt finally let go of Liam’s arm.

It was one of Liam’s graduate students at the door, Jonah. “Hey,” he said. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Just have a couple of questions. I thought I heard you talking. Do you have company?”

Most of the students never met Kurt either, despite the fact that he was around quite a bit. Liam had learned by now that Kurt only appeared to those students he thought he might start a relationship with. Kurt had been alone since Martina had graduated, and Liam assumed it would only be a matter of time before he picked another student, someone to provide him with blood and share his bed. In between lovers, Kurt drank blood from animals, but he had told Liam that it was much better to have a human source. Kurt chose those people whom he thought would be open to the idea of a finite relationship with a vampire, those who wouldn’t be afraid of him but also wouldn’t want to stay with him indefinitely. Because Kurt never got attached.

“Let’s find out,” Liam said, and opened the door wider. His heart sank immediately when he saw that Jonah could see Kurt standing by the desk. Liam thought back for a moment to Kurt’s reaction when Doris put her hand on Liam’s arm. But Kurt wouldn’t get jealous, of course.

Liam definitely was.

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Updates Fridays on Ao3 and DannyeChase.com (rated E), and Tumblr (rated T)

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light

My Carrd

[ohtobealady]

If you ever feel like writing again, could you please write the announcement of Cora's last pregnancy to the family. I have always felt robbed of that scene and I cannot think of anyone who can write it better than you 💖

First off, thank you so much! ✨ I appreciate that boost of confidence. And I like this prompt! I had a hard time choosing which character’s point of view to base it on. I think we see the scene in which Violet finds out - the one where Cora says O’Brian has her “wrapped in silk and feathers.” Mary was away at Rosamund’s and must’ve found out via a letter. So I have this image of Cora and Robert telling Edith and Sybil. And well … Edith seemed an interesting angle to explore for this.

I apologize because it isn’t by far my best work. But something’s better than nothing!

~~~

“Shall we go through?”

Edith looked up at Mama who had begun to rise from her chair. Edith had finished with her pudding what felt like ages ago, and had sat patiently waiting for Mama to finally eat the last of her meringue so they could go up. She pinched the napkin from her lap and placed it on the table.

“Robert?” Mama beckoned. “Are you joining us?”

Edith looked to Papa. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Mm.” And then a nod.

Ugh. Edith pushed down agitation. She was ready for bed, really. She had been looking forward to kissing Mama a good night as they left the dining room and then off to blissful sleep. It wasn’t really that much was irritating her, truthfully. Mary was away, staying with Aunt Rosamund. Thoughts of Sir Anthony Strallan also warmed her considerably. But there was something in the way Papa had smirked that suggested the evening would drag on longer than she would like.

She waited for Mama to go through and then followed her out, watching the way Mama’s dress swished as she walked. Sybil followed behind. Edith could feel Sybil’s eyes on her and she peered over her shoulder at her.

“Have you seen him lately?” Sybil whispered.

Edith looked back toward Mama. “Who?”

But Sybil, now that they were in the hall, caught up to walk side by side with her. “Yes, you do! Sir Anthony Strallan!”

Edith felt herself smile.

“Who is this?”

They’d entered the library and Mama turned around with that smile of hers — the one that suggested it wasn’t really a smile but rather a nudge, a plea to tell her something.

“Anthony Strallan, Mama,” Edith shot eyes at Sybil who did actually smile, followed by a covering of her grin with two fingers.

She felt herself blush deeply.

“I see,” Mama touched Edith’s elbow, but then walked to the couch, Papa following after her, and Edith shook her head at her sister.

Sybil only shrugged, teasingly. She sat.

Edith threw a glance at her parents, quietly speaking at the couch opposite, Mama’s pretty face angled up at Papa. Whispering.

Edith sat down next to Sybil. Her sister’s pretty face gazing toward the fire.

“I wonder if Mary is having a nice time in London.”

Edith shrugged, not teasing. “Does it matter?”

Sybil drew in a breath. “You know, you two could be happy for one another. If only occasionally.”

“Have you said that to Mary?”

Sybil shook her head. Edith noticed that she too looked toward their parents. “Why choose anything but happiness?”

Edith rolled her eyes. Easy for her to say. Sybil had the attention of so many men this season. Effortlessly. Easy for Mary. Mama had already let it slip that she was engaged to Matthew, or at least that he’d proposed. Easy, even, for Mama, who sat before them now, twinkling up at Papa. Edith sighed. “I’m just as happy for Mary as she would be for me.”

Sybil touched Edith’s wrist, in a way that reminded her so much of Mama. “Well, I’m happy for you.”

Edith felt herself blush again.

“Oh?” Mama’s attention was on them again. “Anthony Strallan again?”

Edith looked at Sybil. “There’s nothing to tell, Mama.”

“If you’re sure.” Mama tucked her chin with that coy look of hers, Papa returning from the table with a drink in his hand.

“There is something we should probably tell the both of you.”

He reached out his open hand to Mama. She took it.

Edith watched in the firelight as a new glow spread across Mama’s chest and then cheeks. She saw even Papa begin to glow, looking down at her mother.

“Your mama is expecting another child.”

Edith felt her jaw go slack. Sybil, beside her, gasped.

“Oh, Mama! Papa!” She leapt up and hugged Mama, kissing her cheek. And then Papa. “Congratulations! I can’t believe it!”

Papa was laughing.

“When?” Edith’s mind was whirling. Mama was … old. “You’re having a child . . . Soon?”

“In the new year. Probably in late December or January, darling.”

“Is it safe?” The library was quieter. Sybil’s eyes grew wide, like a warning. But Edith ignored her. “Is it not strange?”

Mama’s brow was furrowed. “Unexpected, but yes. I do believe I’ll be safe, Edith. And the baby.”

And then a thought. A rather interesting thought. “Have you told Mary?”

Edith didn’t imagine the way Mama’s face fell. “Well, not yet. I need to write to her.”

“And if it’s a boy, what does that mean for Matthew?” Edith tried to cool her smile, but she could not.

Sybil drew in a breath, and Papa, she noted, reached again for Mama’s hand. “Of course Matthew will always be welcome here,” he said. “I will tell him myself tomorrow. But —“

“— we don’t know if it’ll be a boy, Edith.” Mama interrupted, her free hand going to her abdomen. Edith suddenly noticed, with a sinking feeling, that her stomach looked more swollen that it had before. “I don’t feel we need to plan for any changes.”

“How exciting, all the same, Mama!” Sybil, kind Sybil, smiled again. “I suppose this means I’ll be an older sister.” She looked at Edith and laughed. They all laughed.

Even Edith, but she wasn’t thinking of anything but Mary. Mary, and how finally — at last — things may not be so easy for her after all.

“Well then. I’ll say good night. I’m terribly exhausted.” Mama rose and she and Sybil rose as well, kissing mama’s soft cheek.

“I’m so happy for you, Mama,” Edith heard her sister whisper. Edith has said nothing.

Papa then, too, pressed his kisses against their foreheads before leaving the library, leaving both Edith and Sybil alone.

Her silence, however, had not gone unnoticed.

“Edith,” Sybil admonished the moment she was able. “Aren’t you the least bit excited? A new baby in the house. I think it’s very sweet,”

Edith scoffed. “Of course you do, Sybil.”

“What does that mean? How do you not?”

“Our parents may be grandparents before Mama’s child is out of the nursery.”

Sybil, however, tipped her head. “And what of Anthony Strallan? He’s older than Papa! Would you think the same of him having a baby?”

“He hasn’t had any children, Sybil, so how could he be a grandparent?”

“Oh, Edith!” Sybil only smiled at that. “But the way Papa held Mama’s hand when he told us. Oh, I think it’s so romantic.”

“Should you still be in the nursery?” Edith was laughing at her again. “I thought Mama explained the nature of marriage to you before you were presented.”

“She did! But Edith, don’t you see?”

Edith stopped. They’d left the library, they’d begun to climb the stairs, and Sybil’s smiling face was alight with the glow of the candle Edith now held.

“See what?”

“Our parents are in love.”

Edith rolled her eyes. “As I said, the nature of marriage. Love is not a requirement for a child, Sybil.”

But Sybil shook her head. “And so what makes it all the more beautiful is that, for our parents, it is. I’d like to think we were all made from love.”

She saw she would not win, so Edith exhaled. “Yes. I suppose I agree. It is nice to think we exist because two people loved one another.”

“Yes!”

“Perhaps not Mary.” At this, even Sybil laughed. “Which would explain a lot.”

“Yes, Mary, too!” Sybil laughed louder, looping her arm through Edith’s, pulled her up the stairs.

[digitalworldbound]

one step forward

Pairing: Ken x Miyako

Summary: “I can’t talk to cute people, okay? I don’t know how to flirt!” (#30 on the prompt list) Requested by @digichijouji02

Author’s Note: I’ve never written a “song-fic”, but I love Olivia Rodrigo’s album AND Kenyako, so this?? was the result. (this is unedited and kind of abrupt)

Called you on the phone today

Just to ask you how you were

All I did was speak normally

Somehow I still struck a nerve

Daisuke had given her Ken’s number as a preemptive measure. “Even if he isn’t apart of our team right now, I’m sure the others will come around soon.”

His oppressive optimism was almost worse than Takeru’s. Iori had made his stance clear on the situation, and Miyako could feel the guilt bubble up in her stomach as she punched the digits into her house phone. Nerves settled into her hands, her fingers desperately rearranging her hair in an effort to feel in control.

Three short rings later, the line picked up. His breath ghosted over the receiver. Miyako’s carefully planned greeting died on her lips. “Ah, is this Ken?” It was a stupid question – how else would she have his number if she didn’t know who he was? She pushed the phone closer to her ear, straining to discover any sound through the cloud of white static. Nothing.

Her heart pounded in her chest. In all of the reactions she prepared herself for, Miyako hadn’t expected silence. She wanted him to be angry; he had every right to be. She wanted him to yell at her or cry or scream. Screaming would be more bearable than the static he was giving her now.

“How have you been? You know, since…everything?” The sharp intake of breath short-circuited her brain. Ken had just watched his partner dissolve in front of his eyes, and she had the audacity to ask how he was holding up? A flush of shame crawled up her neck. She prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her.

The receiver clicked. Miyako hated the way the dial tone mocked her.

You got me messed up in the head, boy Never doubted myself so much Like, am I pretty? Am I fun, boy? I hate that I give you power over that kind of stuff

Winter air nipped at her exposed cheeks. It had taken her a while to find his apartment; her toes felt like ice in her boots. He hadn’t really spoken to her since the phone call, only acknowledging her when the situation called for it. Nevertheless, he had invited them all over for a Christmas party, and who was Miyako to say no?

His mother opened the door, the smell of freshly baked gingersnaps escaping into the night. “Come in, dear. You must be Miyako! My Ken has told me a lot about you.” The woman ushered Miyako towards a bedroom door before her shock could register. What is there to tell? The only time I’ve talked to him was to slap him in the face.

Ken’s mother knocked lightly on the door, announcing Miyako’s arrival. For some reason, she could feel her cheeks burn when Ken gestured her further into his bedroom. “You look nice, Miyako.” His voice was barely a whisper, the boisterous arguing of Takeru and Daisuke nearly drowning him out.

Self-consciously, she caught her reflection in the glass of a clock on the wall. It had been a harsh winter, the snow getting the best of any potential customers to her family’s convenience store. Her sister’s skirt was too short for Miyako’s long legs, so she layered her old ballet tights underneath. They did little to fend off the cold, but it preserved what little dignity she had around her friends. The attempts at curling her hair were futile. Snowflakes clung to the curls, the strands now hanging limply around her face. She grumbled a bit under her breath, racking her brain for the reasoning behind Ken’s blatant lie.

A card game was in full swing by the time Miyako wedged herself between Iori and Takeru. They both smiled at her before turning back to the issue at hand: Daisuke was cheating.

“Just because I have natural talent doesn’t mean that you can be jealous, Takeru.”

“I don’t think it takes natural talent to look at Hikari’s cards.” The blond deadpanned. Iori sighed and exchanged a look with Ken. They, unlike Takeru and Daisuke, seemed to have formed a companiable silence in the midst of the chaos.

Daisuke’s bickering rattled her brain. With Ken’s unsolicited compliment and the constant arguing, Miyako was already at her wit’s end. “Can you both just shut up and stop trying to mark your territory like untrained puppies?”

Her voice echoed off of Ken’s bare walls. Their Digimon temporarily stopped their feast to look at her curiously. Poromon bounced into her lap, snuggling into her chest. Five pairs of wide yes regarded her with surprise, and Miyako could feel herself grow uncomfortably warm. A giggle burst from Ken’s lips, his cheeks rosy. She had never heard him laugh before.

Soon, they were all laughing. Cards were strewn about as they rolled on the floor, laughing harder when they realized they couldn’t stop.

As the party wrapped up, Miyako was the last to leave. Poromon and Minomon snuggled together underneath a blanket while Ken talked. Her cheeks warmed under the attention, but Ken either didn’t notice or was too kind to mention it. The hands on the clock ticked forwards until his mother startled them with a knock. “Miyako, it’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your parents to worry.” Her eyes were soft and full of kindness; Ken had inherited her smile.

“Of course! I apologize for staying so late. Thank you for allowing me to come over.” She stood and bowed clumsily. Her family valued no such formalities, but if anyone deserved them, it was Ken’s mother.

Ken walked her to his threshold, a hand nervously resting on her back. Despite being underdressed, he stepped out into the chilly night air behind her. A smile played on his lips, causing a swarm of butterflies to erupt in Miyako’s stomach.

“I wasn’t joking, you know?” His eyes looked out onto the horizon. Miyako raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” The cold had already wormed its way through her tights; she was ready to get home.

His dark blue eyes met hers. “You do look nice tonight.” For someone so shy, so quiet, Ken said it with a conviction that made Miyako’s cheeks color.

Her hands were sweaty, her heart was so loud. Maybe I’m getting sick.

Ken’s eyes were so earnest, so full, waiting her response. The ball was in her court, and she was fumbling. “Ah, um, Ken, I don’t know what to say.” His shoulders drooped, eyes tearing away from hers before fixating on some imaginary point in the distance.

“You don’t have to say anything. Goodnight, Miyako.”

He didn’t have a chance to turn the doorknob before the older girl began to panic. She grabbed his wrist, pulling his backwards.

“No! Ken, that’s not what I meant! I mean, at first I had no idea, and then Daisuke was being all, well, Daisuke. But then the cards were all a mess and this isn’t even my skirt, and I had no-“

Ken’s lips twitched upwards, his eyes empty. “Miyako, you don’t have to make me feel better.” He glances at his watch, “It’s getting late, you should be on your way home.”

“No.” Her hand tightened around his wrist. Ken looked so small and confused that Miyako’s heart gave a painful lurch. Ken couldn’t leave until she said her piece.

The air burned her throat; she was sure that he could feel her fingers tremble against his skin. “I’m trying to say thank you. It’s just that I can’t talk to cute people, okay? I’ve never been in this situation before, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.”

Silence, then “You think I’m cute?”

'Cause it's always one step forward and three steps back I'm the love of your life until I make you mad It's always one step forward and three steps back Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand No, I don't understand

It must have been something in the eggnog, she thought. That’s the only explanation. It was the fourth of January. Her D-Terminal had remained silent since the defeat MaloMyotismon, Ken ignoring her messages with a practiced ease. It was hard to not take it personal. She knew that they all needed the space and time to grieve, but Ken hated to be alone. Miyako had been so sure that they were finally getting somewhere, finally becoming friends. Her inbox was empty.

The shrine was also uncharacteristically empty, her family making up the majority of the crowd. Her family had also remained silent. Ultimately, they were glad she was safe. Her siblings were miffed that their little sister had been trapezing between worlds while they focused on their math homework but were incredibly proud of the way she handled herself. Her parents hadn’t looked in her eyes since.

She had tried to message her friends about it, but not even Iori would respond. Lost in thought, her brother shoved her forward when it was her turn to pray. Muscle memory was the only reason she was capable of tossing in her coins and clapping.

Prayer seemed superficial in the face of the battle they had fought. Prayer hadn’t saved the children from their Dark Seeds or made the fight any easier to win. Still, her head bowed in thanks. At least her friends had been spared.

She prayed for strength, to face whatever came next. She prayed for the wellbeing of her family, and her partner. She prayed for her friends; she prayed for Ken.

Her D-Terminal beeped.

[jungle321jungle]

Your Words Fill The Space Between Us

The published letters that detail the romance that changed the kingdom.

~~~~

Aka Roman and Janus send each other letters

Taglist: @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie @dreaming-always @anxiety-ismy-name @mrbubbajones @janustheliar @why-do-you-care @hogwarts-my-love​

Ao3 - Masterlist

Your Words Fill The Space Between Us

September 18th

J,

I received the gift you sent with your previous letter, and I wanted to ensure I thanked you for it- despite how bold it was. But I suppose that has always been something I liked about you- even if my heart very nearly stopped when Mother asked who the flowers and watch had come from. I was forced to give her the flowers (but I kept the watch for myself) after telling her it came from a businessman I work with (I am blessed that she didn’t ask which of them it was). Though I was disappointed to give up the flowers. I don’t even remember mentioning my favorite flowers and yet you knew anyways. Are you using your power for useless things again? I hope not, you have enough on your plate as it is without worrying about what I like and dislike. But if it truly crosses your mind do know that what I like are your letters and the rare moments we spend together.

But enough about that, more importantly I will be aiding my father this year so I too will get the pleasure of attending the New Year’s Ball. I hope when I arrive you can finally show me the spot you’ve described with the view of the whole city.

R.

~~~~

September 23rd

R,

I am glad my present to you was received well. As to your comment regarding whether or not I was using my power correctly, all I must say is that if it is my power I shall use it as I please. If that happens to be to determine your favorite flowers so be it, my servants are paid accordingly. Also, once I get more power laws change and I get you- so I truly see no downside.

I cannot wait until you get here, I will show you all my favorite spots here to view the scenery and my favorite places in town to shop and eat. We’ll need to think of an excuse for why we spend so much time together though, but we have the time to work out a story.

Speaking of, with this letter I am sending you a book. It’s one I just found by chance and I fell in love with instantly, I’m sure you’ll do the same. Be sure to send me your thoughts when you finish.

J.

~~~~

October 17th

J,

You are utterly horrific. Sending me a book that plays with my emotions like that. I wouldn’t have gotten so invested if I just knew she was going to die like that! Not even from her disease but from an assassin that’s horrible. Just horrible.

I stayed up to finish the last few chapters and now it’s late and I’m crying, but I don’t want the maids to hear. You’re horrible. And to prove it I’m sending you a book.

R.

~~~~

November 2nd

R,

I truly am dastardly aren't I? I laughed a lot at your letter, it was the exact response I was expecting. You never disappoint dearest. As for the book you sent me I unfortunately am yet to open it. I wasn’t planning on sending this letter until completing it, but things have gone bleak in terms of negotiations. I’ve been spending all my time locked in my office taking over my father’s daily work in addition to my own while he tries to calm things with the other delegations. At present I should actually be overlooking some documents, but I feel if I do I will truly lose my mind.

I miss you.

I know that if you were just here sitting beside me I would instantly feel energized.

At least the ball is next month.

J.

~~~~

November 4th

R,

I doubt you have even received my last letter as I write this, but I must tell you to withhold sending other letters. I’m not entirely sure why, but Father is suspicious of something and is having mail checked.

I’ll send word when the coast is clear.

J.

~~~~

December 22nd

R,

My father has found whatever it is he is looking for, so we should be fine now. But that did take longer than I thought. So much has happened in the last few weeks.

Mother’s sudden illness, and sister’s broken engagement, not to mention that the countries on either side of us have declared war and both are begging for us to pick a side. It’s beyond tiring. Father still insists upon holding the ball though, so I’ll see you then. I wonder if this letter will even reach you before you depart for the capital.

I hope I’ll have the time to show you around as I promised.

J.

~~~~

December 27th

J,

I was about to respond to your first letter when the second arrived. You must’ve sent one of your fastest messengers. As for your third and most recent letter I received it just before climbing in the carriage. We are staying in the Barony tonight, which is where I write this letter from. But I will wait to have it sent to you until I reach the capital.

I too hope we can meet up during the festivities, at least for a minute and even better if that minute was spent alone so we can speak freely. But please, remember that you mustn't push yourself too hard.

R.

~~~~

December 31st

R,

There is a small balcony west of the ballroom and past the room where the ladies rest. It’s secluded. We can use our usual signal, I’ll meet you there.

J.

~~~~

January 1st

R,

I cannot describe how amazing it was to simply hug you again. And as I said before it was wonderful to see how your dancing had improved. I’m sorry that our time together was so short, I will send you word as soon as I know when I can slip out of the palace. Maybe, two nights from now I can try? That’s when the commoners set up an array of stalls with games and prizes. Would you like to go?

J.

~~~~

January 2nd

J,

Of course I want to go! We will go and I will beat you at every game! But I don't have any clothes that would help me blend in. Also, how do you intend to disguise yourself?

R.

~~~~

January 3rd

R,

With this letter are clothes for you to wear tonight. I’ll meet you outside the gates by the large willow about an hour after dinner. And as to your question, I will be wearing a blonde wig.

J.

~~~~

January 4th

J,

You cheated. That’s the only way you could have won so many games. I don't care that you said you didn’t, you most certainly did.

R.

~~~~

January 5th

R,

You are free to believe what you like.

For the closing ball tomorrow we can meet at the same spot as the first night. And I have a surprise for you.

J.

~~~~

January 6th

R,

I swear I didn’t know.

I am so sorry. I didn’t know, I saw you crying and run off and I’m sorry that I couldn’t run after you. I’m sorry. Can I come by so we can talk?

J.

~~~~

January 8th

R,

You’re leaving tomorrow right? Please respond so I can see you before you do.

J.

~~~~

January 9th

R,

I understand you’re mad at me, and I won’t even ask you not to be. But I will ask that you at least try understand the position I am in.

And I hope you travel safely home.

J.

~~~~

January 16th

J,

Did you really not know?

R.

~~~~

January 19th

R,

I didn’t. My father sprung it on me, the same way he did to every party guest. He didn’t even tell me which nation he was leading towards in terms of support, much less this.

J.

~~~~

January 22nd

J,

Will you marry her?

R.

~~~~

January 25th

R,

I don’t want her. I want and I love you.

J.

~~~~

January 28th

J,

That’s not what I asked. I asked if you will follow through with the engagement.

R.

~~~~

January 31st

R,

I don’t have a choice. I thought I could spend more time living as the Crown Prince before I could reject the role and leave the crown to my brother. I thought I could do that if my parents ever brought up marriage- but this is more than a marriage. It’s war.

If I don’t marry the Delphine our trade routes are shut off- and since we already cut ties with the empire by my father announcing the engagement. If I reject this for you, I put the whole kingdom at risk. I… I don’t know if I can do that.

J.

~~~~

February 4th

J,

Surely there’s another way! Why can’t she just marry your brother?

R.

~~~~

February 10th

R,

Do you truly think I haven’t looked for one? My hands are tied. The only possible thing I could do to even have you near me is to bring you here as an advisor or the like when the time comes. I can find a way if it’s that.

J.

~~~~

February 14th

J,

No. I will not stand to the side just watch as you dance and hold hands with her for the public’s morale. I would rather die than that.

R.

~~~~

February 19th

R,

Please don’t be so dramatic. I am trying all I can think of in between my hectic schedule. But if you truly don’t like my efforts tell me, do you have any brilliant ideas?

J.

~~~~

February 25th

J,

Don’t mock me, Your Highness. You’re not the one who has had his heart stepped on repeatedly. You’ve been making me promises for years- am I not allowed to be upset when I find out that they’re hollow?

R.

~~~~

March 2nd

R,

You’re unbelievable. Feel free to sulk all you wish, meanwhile I need to continue my regular duties, prepare a wedding, and prepare for war.

J.

~~~~

March 5th

J,

War? I thought our kingdom was just to supply aid.

R.

~~~~

March 8th

R,

I’m getting married to the daughter of a nation who declared war upon the empire. Of course war will come to our borders as well.

J.

~~~~

March 23rd

J,

Father got the invitation to the wedding this morning. I wanted to tear it to shreds. Have you truly thought of nothing yet? Something other than me working for you?

R.

~~~~

March 29th

R,

I’m sorry to say I haven’t. In the months since the ball and start of the war I haven’t gotten anywhere with my Father- and Mother’s decline isn’t helping.

J.

~~~~

April 1st

J,

What? I had heard she was getting better?

R.

~~~~

April 6th

R,

That’s just the rumor I spread to redirect attention. She’s getting worse if anything.

J.

~~~~

April 10th

J,

I am so sorry.

R.

~~~~

August 12th

J,

It’s been a long time since my last letter, I’m not sure how many months. I guess I should follow custom and congratulate you on the wedding even if I am late. You at least looked very nice on your wedding day. You’ve truly perfected that fake smile.

I’m sorry for how I acted when I heard about your engagement. I know you didn’t want this either. And I know it’s late for this, but I’ll come work for you if that’s what it takes. The more I try to pretend that I don’t love you- the harder it gets- and the more it hurts.

R.

~~~~

August 17th

Lord Roman Regis,

Please do not waste my time and deny that you are the author of the letter I just read. I intend to keep this letter brief. I do not wish to know what kind of relationship you have with my husband, but I must request that it ceases. My husband serves as a figure to both nations, and he cannot have anyone dragging him down. Especially not someone of a lower stature.

If you contact him again, there will be consequences.

Crown Princess Delphine Ekans

~~~~

August 22nd

Crown Princess,

Your Highness I apologize for any misunderstandings I may have caused, but please speak to Janus. I’m sure he will explain everything.

Lord Roman Regis

~~~~

August 26th

Lord Roman Regis,

To think a measly count’s son can not only tell me what to do, but he can be bold enough to refer to my husband without a title. I already asked you not to drag my husband down, and by doing so you have disregarded my warning.

Do remember that you have brought this upon yourself Lord Roman.

Crown Princess Delphine Ekans

~~~~

September 5th,

Ro,

You know all those times I told you to just get out there and just love the prince if you actually love him? Well this is not what I meant. I mean like you should speed up that “perfect” plan you two always talked about, not that you should wait so long that he got married. And definitely not so long that his wife outed your “despicable crush on the married crown prince”- however I can say that the papers are currently god tier with gossip. I have been asked for interviews like four times and I love it. Oh and have some faith in me, I didn’t talk to them- for long.

Anyway, lover boy should be able to help you out of this, right?

The better you,

Remus

~~~~

September 10th,

Remus,

Sometimes I hate you, and then when I remember we shared a womb I hate you even more. But even so, I thank you for being the one “calm” person about this. Mother and Father (mainly Mother) have been up in arms about how big of a disgrace I am, and just about every noble in the kingdom is in agreement. It doesn't matter that just about every unmarried woman pines after the Crown Prince even after he got married, because when a man does it- because that Witch known as the Crown Princess publishes my letter- I’m somehow a deviant.

I haven’t left the manor since word got out. And I am just flooded with letters from friends and other nobles, but truthfully I am too scared to read them. Maybe I’ll have a trusted maid read them and pick out the kind ones, but I am not sure.

I have no clue what is going on with Janus at the moment. I am yet to receive anything from him- most likely due to the Crown Princess’ interference. I wish I could know what was happening behind the palace doors... I truly do.

This is why I just wanted to run off to somewhere else, but Janus was confident he could change the laws for us and then we could go live quietly somewhere... I wish things were that simple.

I rather not discuss this anymore truthfully. I'd like to have a normal conversation again. So tell me, do you have any stories to tell of your travels? Reading them would prove far more interesting than anything here.

The best twin,

Roman

~~~~

September 18th,

Remus,

Given I am yet to receive a response from you, so I assume you are on the move once more, but I thought I should send you an update letter before you hear the filtered version from word of mouth.

I am currently being escorted to the palace. I know some will think I am to get some sort of punishment, but Janus sent one of the guards with a verbal message that he is handling this in his own way. I have no choice but to place my trust in him. Mother was still worried about it, Father interestingly seemed to be rooting for me but we didn’t get to talk more about it. But I know I will see Janus soon and that thought comforts me. Even though I know his wife will be close behind.

I’ll keep you updated on what transpires. But I still expect traveling stories. Like honestly, what was the point of you joining the navy if I don't get to read any seafaring adventures? You aren’t fighting in the war so surely there must be pirates or something? Or some stories about sirens and other such creatures? I want to read them all.

And in return you can have me as your wonderful twin.

The twin that matters,

Roman

~~~~

September 21st

Roman,

It almost seems strange to be able to address you by your name in a letter, but I like it all the same. I am very sorry for my silence and for Delphine’s actions. The former was a result of a few things: the first being my traveling to the battle front. I'm sorry I did not tell you prior to leaving, I did not want you to worry, but... I spent some time in battle. I was on my way back when your letter reached the palace and Delphine had taken it before I knew it even existed. Then upon my return I was busy dealing with Mother’s health and my war reports- I had intended to write other excuses here but truthfully I was scared of your reaction. I was scared that you would have just given up on me- on us. I had written and thrown away over 20 letters that I started without finishing before Delphine handed me a paper with a letter I had never seen published on the front page.

We had a long argument, about her not having the right to do such a thing to a “friend” of mine. It took a lot of time to cool things down and convince everyone to allow you to come here. Your father had sent me a letter saying he was worried for your safety, and that was enough to pull them to my side to bring you out of harm's way.

I am sorry I cannot currently go to see you, right now everyone believes I am just trying to clean up a mess that my wife blew way out of proportion and going to you would only start rumors. The knight who will deliver this letter- Virgil- can be trusted. He may huff and roll his eyes, but he does not pry and will not look at the contents of the letters. As he put it, he will only do the bare minimum of his job, and being curious and nosy takes too much energy. So you can send your letters through him. I swear I will figure something out.

In the meantime I hope your quarters are comfortable, let me know if they are not.

Yours,

Janus

~~~~

September 22nd,

Janus,

You are an absolute idiot. You went to war, without telling me? What if something had happened to you? Are you crazy? No of course you are. You’re absolutely insane- and I am so so glad that you are alright.

It has been strange being here in the palace, I don't often leave my room due to the looks servants give as I pass by, but my room is comfortable and Virgil makes good conversation. He certainly doesn’t have the demeanor of most knights which is enjoyable. Reminds me a bit of my twin in a way- but I think both would disagree.

Regardless, I have a request for you even though I know you will disagree. I wish to speak with the Crown Princess. I do not know how much you have told her, so I can keep things sounding one sided if you wish- but I want to speak to her. If you don't give an answer I like, I will simply write to her myself.

Roman

~~~~

September 22nd

Roman,

And you call me crazy. Why would you want to meet with the woman who ruined your life? You wrote in the same letter that even servants are scorning you- I will have Virgil report to me who they are so they can be fired immediately- and yet you wish to speak with her? I will not allow it.

Janus

~~~~

September 24th

Janus,

As you read this the Crown Princess should be receiving her letter as well. I kept it simple, just asking for tea with the promise of an apology. But before I schedule a time to meet with her, I want to know... do you like your wife?

Roman

~~~~

September 25th

Roman,

Delphine showed me the letter and she gave some unkind phrases to go with. I told her not to accept your invitation- but I think she wants to even more now. As to your question, I don’t know what I think of her. I hate what she has done to you, but I do not hate her (entirely) as a person. I admire the fact that she will go to great lengths to help her people, but I certainly do not like her. Or perhaps it’s better to say that I like her in the way one likes a business partner? Appreciating when they get the job done well, and hating when they don't. I am not sure if that answers your question, but I do not know how else to better phrase my thoughts.

Janus

~~~~

September 27th

Janus,

I met the Second Prince yesterday. He came to my room and chided me for not getting enough sunlight and fresh air, before he ordered me to accompany him to the gardens. He seems far too kind to be of royal blood. Oh, while he denies it I definitely say Virgil stealing glances at the Prince. It was quite adorable actually.

I am laughing to myself as I write this and he looks on, it is most amusing. Do tell you brother to visit again.

Roman

~~~~

September 28th

Roman,

Patton is definitely too pure for this palace, if he wasn’t the spitting image of father I would think he was illegitimate. As for him and Virgil... I rather not speculate, no one and I mean no one is good enough for Patton.

In more important news I will be accompanying Delphine to your tea tomorrow. At least for the beginning of it. Seeing you two together with my own eyes is the only way I can be sure someone won't attack the other.

I’ll see you then love.

Janus

~~~~

September 29th

Janus,

Since I am sure you are worried about what I and Crown Princess Delphine spoke of in your absence here is a few notes about what we discussed:

The fact that I have loved you since our academy days

That my feelings won't change no matter what she does

That I don't want anything negative to befall either country

She did not once ask about your thoughts or feelings, they seemed relevant to her

She doesn’t want me near you. She says it will ruin the reputation she is building

I do not know what this means for us, but at the very least I think I understand what you meant about having a business partner relationship.

Roman

~~~~

October 2nd

Roman,

Good to know your talk with her was for mostly nothing. She has more recently gone to my father about some scheme to boost morale and he seems to be on board. So she’s at least distracted for the time being.

In surprising news Mother wishes to meet you. She’s probably the one person who knows everything simply because she sees through every lie I tell. But thankfully she never questions me on the truth. You’ll receive an official invite from her soon.

Janus

~~~~

October 4th

Janus,

Your mother is one of the kindest people on the planet. She kept fretting over if I was okay, and meanwhile she is the one bedridden. And you were certainly right about her knowing the whole story, because it is clear she is rooting for us! She told me she just wants you to be happy, and marrying for love is something she wished you could do. She did also say she wanted to give the Crown Princess a “stern talking to”, and I think that would be hilarious to watch.

Roman

~~~~

October 14th 4th

Logan,

This year has been an absolute shitshow. Have you even heard what’ss going on? Because I haven’t heard a word fom you. But I suppose what else should I expect from the disaprearing count? I just want to marry for love and be done with the fucking war? Is that so bap? Delphine is making this hard, but I know she just wants things to be not war… it’s all so annoying. What should I do lo?

Your only friend,

Jans

~~~~

October 5th

Mother and Father,

I want you to know that despite all that has occurred I am well. I have gotten a chance to speak to the Crown Prince and Princess, and the Queen. Currently the Crown Prince intends to release rumors regarding the Duke’s family (which may or may not involve treason so please pull any assets out quickly) to stop the month long gossip about me. Once that happens, I am not sure if I will be staying here or returning home but I will let you know once I figure it out. Living in the palace certainly isn’t bad after all. The food is to die for. I may try to lengthen my stay just because of it. So don’t worry about me, worry about Remus who just sent me a letter detailing too many things about pirates that would make you cry in shame.

The lesser of two evils,

Roman

~~~~

October 8th

Crown Prince Janus Ekans,

I was quite surprised to get your letter and even more surprised by it’s contents. I have told you multiple times it is not becoming of a prince to send letters written in a drunken stupor.

Yes, I am well aware of the gossip in the capital that you have involved yourself in. But I saw no need to send you a letter of my own thoughts when I am not involved in your marital issues. If you were simply writing to me to rant and rave, then your letter was received. And I would like to say that I do have other friends.

Regardless, please expedite the report enclosed, it is part of our winter preparations.

Count Logan Ackroyd

~~~~

October 9th

Janus,

I went into town with Prince Patton (who gave me permission to call me by his name) and Virgil today. We went in disguise of course, but we got to go to a great many shops and try some good food. I bought you a present while we were out, but with the current circumstances I don’t believe I should send it with this letter. If you ever find the time to drop by my room please come and get it.

As we went about I couldn’t shake two thoughts from my mind, the first being that fall looks so different here in the capital, and the second was that it’s been nearly a year since we promised to do such things together. I still await the day where you show me your favorite spots.  

I hope those times come soon.

Roman

~~~~

October 10th

Roman,

I too hope for the same, and I would love to see what it is you got me, but we have an obstacle at present. A few actually. While the war is finally moving in our favor, I fear that the Duke’s situation is less clear than I thought. In addition to that, Father wants you sent home to the county sooner than later. And if that’s not enough, Delphine wishes to speak with you before you leave- I will do my best to convince her otherwise. I’m not sure when they want your departure to be, I’m currently negotiating and thankfully Patton is on my side.

Janus

~~~~

October 11th

Ro,

So in my quest to find exciting stories for you I may or may have not taken a cutlass to the leg. It nearly got cut clean off! Or well that’s the story I’ll tell at least. Anyway, I’m gonna be home for a while so you should come visit your dearest twin. And as for get well presents there’s nothing better than basically all the sweets in the capital so I’ll take those please and thank you. Oh and buy me some of those racy novels you pretend you don’t read. Mother saw the word “tentacle” then burned mine.

Your horribly wounded and now sickly and pathetic twin,

Remus

~~~~

October 12th

Janus,

I heard from Prince Patton that there will be a party next week. He was asking me if I plan to go with him, and truthfully I’d like to, but I also don't want to undo anything either. What do you think?

Roman

~~~~

October 13th

Roman,

I’m afraid that your attendance will not be a good idea. But, I’ve heard sickness is floating around the palace. It would be truly tragic if I can’t attend. The greatest of tragedies.

Janus

~~~~

October 15th

Dearest Husband,

At least for the sake of appearances, can you pretend like you’re not missing your lover when we’re in public? It’s very nearly sickening.

Your Wife,

Delphine

~~~~

October 15th

Delphine,

I don’t believe I ever said he was my lover. Also if you want a conversation just come here. Thomas is a knight not a messenger.

Janus

~~~~

October 15th

Dearest Husband,

Sir Thomas shall be what I ask him to be. But on topic, if Lord Regis is not your lover then Queen Mother is in perfect health. If you’re going to ignore my and your kingdom’s wishes then at the very least be subtle. Please and thank you.

Oh and I will not be joining you for dinner, your sister asked me to dine with her.

Your Wife,

Delphine

~~~~

October 17th

Janus,

I’m afraid the party must wait (and for shame my meeting with the Crown Princess must wait as well). I have just received word that Remus was injured- not gravely though- so he is currently resting at home. I must return as soon as possible to rescue my parents from his madness. Well after I buy all the things the idiot requested.

Roman

~~~~

October 18th

Janus,

I love the jacket thank you so so so much. I’ll be sure to wear it the next time I see you, which will likely be the New Year’s Ball. I’ll write to you again as soon as I get home.

Roman

~~~~

October 21st

Janus,

I have just arrived and I already wish I had stayed in the palace. Mother is already talking about how lucky I am that despite the “scandal” she found a woman who would be willing to marry me. Maybe I’ll tell her to invite this poor girl over while Remus is here. Hopefully that scares her off.

Roman

~~~~

October 26th

Roman,

What do you think about eloping?

Janus

~~~~

November 1st

Janus,

You are aware of the fact that you’re married right? Also two men marrying isn't exactly legal. Also you know, the war?

Roman

~~~~

November 7th

Roman,

Trust me when I say the war will come to an end soon. And screw the laws and my wife. If I just kidnapped you, what would anyone really do?

Janus

~~~~

November 13th

Janus,

For starters I don’t think announcing kidnapping in a letter is the proper way to kidnap someone. Also I would like to point out that in the past years I always wanted to run away and you said no. Then a few months after I drop it you’re getting engaged.

Roman

~~~~

November 18th

Roman,

Virgil said the same thing. You two spent too much time together while you were here. And I’m a married man now. I’ve grown and I’ve changed. And running away sounds better and better.

Janus

~~~~

November 20th,

Logan,

If I said I wanted to elope with Roman to your domain what would you say?

Janus

~~~~

November 23rd

Janus,

You assigned him to be my guard of course we spent time together. Also I’ve been receiving letters from Prince Patton, he truly is a ray of sunshine. He told me that the Queen is doing better and I am elated to hear that. Please pass my well wishes to her.

Roman

~~~~

November 24th

Crown Prince Janus Ekans,

What would I say if you wanted to elope here? Well, I would remind you that you have responsibilities. While I do wish for your happiness do remember that the country lies on your shoulders as well. However if there was such a way that everything was sorted beforehand, then I would still say no.

Count Logan Ackroyd

~~~~

November 28th

Logan,

That’s unnecessarily rude. I will take your response as a positive one.

Janus

~~~~

December 4th

Dearest Husband,

I am apologizing in advance for what I must do. I did not anticipate such a situation, but the Duke has my hands tied. You know I will always do what I believe I must for the good of our nations, and to stop this war. I beg you to keep these thoughts in mind.

Your Wife,

Delphine

~~~~

December 4th

Lord Roman Regis,

I beg you to keep the crown standing tall despite everything. This is not your opportunity.

Delphine

~~~~

December 10th

Janus,

Is it true what everyone’s saying? That the Crown Princess is going to be charged for treason? Was that why she sent me a strange letter?

Roman

~~~~

December 15th

Roman,

She sent you one too? And yes I’m afraid it’s true… but I don’t think that’s how it started. I was aware of the fact she was working with the duke to supply troops using her knowledge of how both armies could work together, I truthfully think he took advantage of her. But her name is on some of the documents which can be read negatively.

I apologize in advance for my lack of responsiveness and attention to you. For now I need to convince Father not to execute Delphine and others in her position. This is all truly at the worst timing, we were in the midst of discussion to end this whole war.

At the very least I’ll see you come the New Years Ball.

Janus

~~~~

December 29th

Roman,

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long, love but I think I have things sorted. At the ball my Father intends to announce the annulment of my marriage- claiming that Delphine unfairly used me. That’s not true of course, but it’s the best way for us to keep her here as a “hostage” and to withdraw our support in this war and try to reclaim a more neutral stance. At least outwardly, things are always more complicated when you look closer.

But with the war coming to a true end, and the end of my marriage, perhaps it’s time I take ‘crown’ out of my title? Patton would certainly be a better face to be out there right now as we try to maintain the rockiest of peaces. And once he takes over maybe I’ll just have to vanish in plain sight. I know a certain count who would take us in without complaint.

We can speak on it more at the banquet, I’ll meet you in the same spot as last year. We can use the same signals.

Janus

~~~~

January 2nd

Janus,

I have spent the past day thinking over the words you told me. I'll admit when I received your most recent letter, I took your words to be akin to wishful thinking. But now after hearing all the plans you made for us, this sounds like something we can really do. My heart beats faster at the thought.

Running away with the Crown Prince, it sounds like a novel doesn’t it? If we were to leave, when would we go?

Roman

~~~~

January 3rd

Roman,

Ideally I’d like to leave as soon as the snow melts, but diplomacy is known to take it’s time.

Janus

~~~~

January 4th

Janus,

I’m ready when you are. Just give me some notice to pack up my things at home and to write a letter that will make my mother sob when she realizes that she can’t marry me off for a reverse dowry. Yes, I know such a thing doesn’t exist, but I’m not sure she does.

Also I spent today with Prince Patton and Virgil and my stance has not changed.

Roman

~~~~

Roman,

Do me a favor and keep your fucking mouth shut? I don’t need Prince Janus interrogating me anymore.

-V

~~~~

January 8th

Janus,

Virgil left a note on my bed last night saying in not so nice words that I ratted him out to you. I take it I was right! You need to speak with your brother then we can be official cupids.

Also I’m leaving today, so make sure your next letter goes to my home.

Roman

~~~~

January 13th

Roman,

I will do no such thing. No one on this planet is good enough for Patton.

Janus

~~~~

January 28th

Logan,

You have till March to prepare our rooms. No, I won’t be telling you my arrival date.

Janus

~~~~

January 30th

Janus,

I don’t know if I ever told you, but I’ve kept every single letter you’ve sent me. The good, the bad, and the pointless ones. I’ve kept them all in a box in my wardrobe and my maids know not to touch them. I think I’ll take the box with me when we run.

Roman

~~~~

February 2nd

Roman,

The Prince is being weirder than usual and is fretting over little stuff and he keeps mumbling your name. Do me a favor and take him off my hands fast.

Also he got very mad at me when he found out we exchanged letters. It’s not like we’ve been doing this since you left or anything. He’s so jealous it’s stupid. Sometimes I like to imagine what would have happened if you had been the one forced into a political marriage- and then I quickly stop because I realize he would order me to go arrest and or kill someone and I legally can’t say no.

Save me.

-Virgil

~~~~

February 3rd

Roman,

I have a box of your letters as well. Even ones you haven’t written but are about you- so even some of Delphine’s have been included. Our story is certainly different from that of other couples, and our letters reflect that. I’ll bring my letters as well, maybe we can organize them all into a large collection.

That was an incredibly sappy thought, and yet I wish to follow through with it all the same.

Janus

~~~~

February 7th

Roman,

I deeply apologize. I saw the play. I know we promised to watch it together, but Patton begged me to go with those eyes and that expression and I couldn’t say no. I will make it up to you. I’ll sit through an opera in the future maybe? I know you like operas even if I don’t.

In good news I plan to send a carriage for you, it should arrive on the fourth of the coming month. It will bring you here to the capital, we can see a horrid opera and then we can be on our way to our future. So you have a full month to pack.

Janus

~~~~

February 12th

Janus,

I can’t believe you watched it without me. It will take more than an opera to make up for this. You can start thinking now on how to make it up to me.

Roman

~~~~

February 19th

Janus,

As the days grow closer my excitement grows more and more. Even now I’m writing this to you rather than sleeping as it truly sinks in that we’re going to do this. I can’t wait.

Roman

~~~~

February 23rd

Roman,

My feelings are the same as yours. This morning I announced to my family my intentions. I didn’t tell them where we’ll be going of course, just that I will be relinquishing the position of Crown Prince and that I will be traveling. Father was enraged, sister was surprised, but Mother and Patton seemed to understand and once the three of us were alone they assured me that they are happy for me. I have a few more people (boring nobles) to tell, but now that they know there’s no going back. So you’re not allowed to have cold feet.

Janus

~~~~

February 27th

Janus,

Please if anyone was to have cold feet it was you. I’ve been willing to run away with you since the day I first laid eyes on the pretty thing you call a face.

Roman

~~~~

March 4

Janus,

The carriage should be here any minute, and I’m writing this letter that I intend to hand deliver to calm myself. My room is packed into bags, and I’ve already said most of my goodbyes. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’m sure time will fly when I’m with you. It always does.

Roman

~~~~

Jan,

Truthfully I wish you didn’t have to leave, but I understand it. So I wish you luck in chasing your love, while you’re gone I’ll make some changes around here so you can lead the life you want when you get back.

Be happy, and don’t forget to write.

Patt

~~~~

March 19th

Patton,

I have arrived safely, and both Logan and Roman are doing well. The former was griping about needing to share his estate with us, but all it took was me bringing up a few embarrassing childhood stories for him to loosen up. I don’t know when I’ll be home, but if you’re ever in the mood to frighten Father, tell him that we’ll need a royal wedding upon my return. I finally got to do the proper proposal I’ve had in my head since the New Year’s before last, and it was perfect.

I wish you luck in dealing with the state of affairs, if you need any help send me a letter discreetly and I can offer some aid.

Best wishes,

Janus

P.S. Fire Virgil if you feel like it. You can do better.

~~~~

A Forbidden Romance Years in the Making!

It’s been years since the ex Crown Princess and now hostage of the kingdom Delphine outed then Lord Roman Regis for loving a married man. Afterwards he was shunned by society and took shelter in the palace after his father begged for his shelter. Generously, the former Crown Prince agreed given he was tied to the scandal. But now we know that was never the whole story. Rather the two have been in a secret romance since their school days.

Now, as if his sudden disappearance was nothing, First Prince Janus Ekans has returned with his betrothed Lord Roman Regis, by his side. Previously talks of Crown Prince Patton signing the new law has been floating for a long while, but it seems the pen will finally be put to paper so a royal wedding may commence.

The couple will wed immediately following the signing of the new law legalizing gay marriage. And it will surely be a wedding to remember.

[tomtenadia]

Island dream - chapter 24

Chapter 24 has finally landed. It took me a while but it's here. Sorry it took me ages, life happens.

but now it's here and something big happens.

Have fun and enjoy <3

--------

The holidays had passed and Aedion and Lysandra had gone back to London but Aelin knew this time it was not for long. Her friends were coming back for good and that had been the most perfect present, Rowan’s proposal aside. That had been her most treasured memory of the holidays and probably of her entire life. Malcolm had thrown a Hogmanay party and the four of them had all been invited and they had great fun and welcomed the new year together knowing it was going to be a new year full of future great moments.

It was now January and life had slowly gone back to normality. That morning Aelin woke up and again she felt like death. She had been feeling like that for a while now and she just blamed it to work. She rolled over in bed and slammed the alarm off, then realised that Rowan’s side was empty. He was probably up already as his usual. Slowly she forced herself to roll out of bed and walked to the kitchen in nothing but one of his t-shirts. Rowan was preparing breakfast and packing her lunch as well. He had decided that cafeteria food was not healthy so he had taken upon himself to pack her some Rowan approved lunch. She complained for the first two days then she gave up. The food had been amazing and he actually loved doing it, so she let him fuss. She hugged him from behind and leaned her head against his back and groaned. She would have gladly slept for another week. “You look terrible again. Are you sure you should go to work?” He turned in her arms and faced her. Aelin let out another savage groan “I feel like I was at a party and I got pished pretty hard last night.” Rowan roared with laughter “That’s a very Scottish word.” “Aye, I am surrounded, of course I pick up things. And Malcolm is a bad influence.” She tried to smile but noticed his worried expression “I’ll get better in a few days. Stop being a worrywart.” “You have been saying that for a while now.” He pressed his hand on her forehead followed by his lips “you definitely are not running a fever.” He passed her a mug of coffee and a plate with bacon and eggs, their Saturday treat. Aelin took a bite of bacon but put the fork down when her stomach protested quite aggressively and she ran for the toilet where she felt sick. Rowan was behind her a moment later. Worry deep in his features. Aelin managed to get up and went to brush her teeth “It’s just a stomach bug. I will be fine.” “You should not go to work.” She ignored him and went back to the bedroom to grab some clean clothes “I am going for a shower and I am going to work wether you approve or not.” Rowan sighed “At least have one of your colleagues have a look at you. This is not normal.” “Fine.” She brushed him off irritated “As long as you shut up about it.” And she slammed the bathroom door in his face. Rowan sighed and went back to the kitchen. She had been very irritable as well during the last week and they fought more than they normally did and she had been constantly exhausted for a while now. He had bought her vitamins hoping it would help but it did not. And now she was sick as well. There was something going on and he was really getting worried. But she was not listening to him and kept telling him that it was just an innocent bug. Half an hour later Aelin reappeared again all ready to go. Rowan handed her the thermos bag with her lunch. Her arms went around his neck “I am sorry.” She said, burying her face in his neck “I didn’t mean to…” she sniffled. “Shh… I know, mo chridhe, we are good.” He kissed her head in reassurance “Just get checked, please.” Aelin nodded and lifted her head to kiss him. He pretended to refuse the kiss for a moment then lifted her in his arms and his mouth crushed on hers. “I love you.” “Go, I’ll se you tonight.” She left and he sighed.

It was an half hour later when she reached the hospital and went quickly to her office. She was in charge of the A&E and she went to get the roster for the day and started making plans where to place the two new intern who joined the team two days before. She loved her job. The pace was different from London but it allowed her to actually have a life outside work and she was happy for that. She was flipping through her diary looking for something else, when she noticed something amiss and everything all of a sudden made sense. She flipped a bit more pages and panic rose swiftly in her. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” She ran out of the office and back into the pit where she saw Malcolm, grabbed him and pulled him to an empty bed, then closed the curtains. “What’s happening?” Aelin grabbed one of the carts in the corridor and took out a syringe and a vial and homeostatic elastic “Fill this up for me, please.” “Are you okay?” He asked while donning his gloves before proceeding to draw blood from her. Once he was done Aelin looked at him “No. Yes. Maybe.” She needed to calm down “I was flipping through my diary to look for something when I noticed something peculiar.” “How peculiar are we talking about?” “I missed my period. Then I went back another month and I realised I missed two.” “Oh.” Was Malcolm first reaction “Not to be judgmental, but how can you miss it? I have a sister and I am told it’s quite difficult to miss.” Aelin sighed “I was on the pill. Then I stopped because it was giving me issues. After quitting the pill it goes off kilter for a while so I was not too bothered about not having it.” she explained “Then once I saw the diary it all clicked. All of it. I have been moody. I have been constantly tired and now sick as well and my boobs are killing me. I did not miss my period because I got off the pill.” She explained frantically. “You and that man you yours have been naughty?” His smile was wicked. Aelin folder her arms at her chest and stared at him sideways. “I am just saying…Now, do you need a sex-ed lesson?” He joked, while sealing the vial with her blood. Aelin blushed savagely “a few times Rowan and I might not have been… careful.” “Oh, the savage passion… I hope the wall is still standing.” She and Malcolm had developed a wonderful relationship and they could talk about anything “The house is still standing.” “Good,” he gave her a wide smile and his dimple made an appearance. Malcolm was good looking. There was a high number of nurses who were crazy about him. He was tall, blonde and with beautiful grey eyes. A heart attack on two legs. The first time she saw him she was the one who had almost smashed into the glass door. “I guess you want me to take this to the lab and check for the p word?” Aelin sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder and his hand was on her hair “You are panicking.” “I will be fine.” She took a deep breath and jumped off the bed. “I will take this to the lab and I will let you know as soon as I know something.” She kissed him on the cheek and disappeared back to work.

Aelin tried to go back to her job to keep her mind occupied. She knew the answer already but she had to wait for the test. All the signs had been there for a while now. She was just worried how Rowan would react to the news. She knew he wanted kids, but perhaps this was a bit too early. She sighed and responded to the page and went to help her intern.

It was in the afternoon when Malcolm pushed her into her office and closed the door. He waved a piece of paper in front of her. “Is that it?” The man nodded and Aelin sat on the edge of the desk, her heart hammering “It’s positive, isn’t it?” “It is.” Malcolm gave her the paper with the results and then studied her “You don’t seem happy, I thought you and Rowan wanted a family.” He sat beside her. Aelin started pacing “We do. I do. Mal, we got engaged two weeks ago, we have been together less than a year. I just wan’t expecting it this soon.” “Are you afraid he will be mad?” Aelin scoffed “No. No, knowing him, he will be ecstatic and then probably put me under house arrest to prevent me to overwork myself.” “If he is a bit overprotective it’s just because he loves you and wants to look after you.” She turned to him. His gaze had gone sad all of a sudden “You are quite the protective type as well.” His face went dark and she felt as if she had said something wrong. Shit. “Mal…” “It’s okay.” He said, placing a hand on her knee “you could not know.” Mal took a deep sigh “He was a pilot. I was on an aircraft carrier. I was the medical officer. He was the commander of the air group. We started it off a bit rocky but then we began to get along quite well. Later on in our deployment, I realised I had feelings for him. Then I discovered he felt the same. After a while we got together and we were an item for a while.” He explained “I knew he was good at his job, but as a doctor, well, I had seen my share of accidents and I used to worry about him every time he would go out with his squadron. If I had an empty med bay I would go on deck and wait until he landed back. He would joke saying that I fussed too much.” He tries to laugh a bit “Things got serious between us. Sometimes we were lucky to be together but quite a lot we were posted in different locations. We always worried when one of us would go on tour without the other. Eventually we had decided to deploy one more and then both retire. He never made it back. After his death I went on one last deployment. ” he sighed heavily. Aelin gasped “Mal, I am so, so, so sorry.” “What I wanted to say is let him fuss over you. That man is madly in love with you. I wish Matthew was still here for me to fuss over him for being late or being ill. I miss it. And I miss him.” She turned and hugged him fiercely and he hugged her back. “Nurse Helen and I will look after you. We will find you a hot sexy man.” Malcolm laughed “Yeah she has been trying to set me up on dates for a while.” Then turned to her “No one knows about Matthew, a part from some of my ex Navy colleagues. I don’t want anyone’s pity. You can set me up on all the dates you want not because I am alone but because I am still here, still alive and I can’t waste such gift by wallowing forever, he would not want that. I will always remember him but life goes on.” Aelin nodded “So tall and dark-haired? Muscles? Rowan might have some swimming buddies available.” Malcolm stood “I am very picky.” “I will keep that in mind.” “Good. Now I best go back to my patients before they start to feel abandoned.” He took a step to the door the turned to her “Aelin, thank you for being my friend” and he left.

A few hours later Aelin was on her way to Yrene for her ob/gyn appointment. After the results she had phoned the ward and asked to book an appointment. She had been feeling nervous all day and still coming to terms with the fact that she and Rowan were going to have a kid. She had no idea if she felt ready or not. Once at the reception she told the secretary she was there for her appointment and she was invited to take a seat. She lasted five minutes before she had to dash to the bathroom and be sick. She felt like death. It took her ten minutes to get out of the toilet. When she got back Yrene was waiting for her “You look terrible.” “And I feel even worse.” Yrene invited her in in her office and told Aelin to lie down on the bed. Yrene smiled and pulled the ultrasound machine closer. Aelin lifted the bottom of her scrubs exposing her belly and Yrene spread gel on it. “Take a deep breath.” Aelin was getting more nervous by the minute which was not working well for her already upset stomach. “Let’s see…” Yrene placed the scanning wand on her tummy and looked at the screen. A very strange sound came from the machine. “That is not a regular heartbeat.” Said Aelin terrified, but Yrene smiled. “It’s not because it’s two heartbeats.” “Twins.” Yrene nodded. Aelin let out a ragged breath. “Are they okay?” “Both foetuses look fine and the right size for now. You are about eight weeks pregnant.” Aelin did the math. The getaway. She laughed. “Something funny?” “Yes,” Aelin said brushing her hand in her hair again, she was so nervous “I did the math and it was the first time Rowan and I had sex. And considering the amount of times, well… I am not surprised.” Yrene grinned. “We got… carried away.” Yrene’s hand was on her shoulder “I have seen him. It’s perfectly understandable.” The Yrene’s tone changed “You know the risks with multiple pregnancies.” Aelin nodded . “Hypertension, Preeclampsia, gestational diabetes, intense sickness.” “Definitely the last one is starting to appear.” Said Aelin leaning back on the bed. “I want to follow you.” Aelin nodded. She had worked with Yrene and really liked the woman and had discovered she had an amazing experience. “Good.” She cleaned Aelin’s belly and covered her back. “I will see you in three weeks. I want to run some tests. Just to check how you are doing.” “Thank you.” Said Aelin getting up and then she felt sick again and ran for the bathroom.

Going back to work had been tragic. She had spent a good twenty minutes in Yrene’s office bathroom. And left on very shaky legs. “What did Yrene do to you? You look like death.” Malcolm’s voice welcomed her back to the A&E. He gave her a ginger biscuit “This should help.” “Thank you.” Thanks to Malcolm’s ginger biscuits she did manage to finish her shift and she was now on her way home. Her mind kept thinking about ways to tell Rowan. Then an idea hit her. Before heading home she took a detour to the bookshop. Luckily it was closed already and she could get in and grab the book she needed for her surprise to Rowan. She would pay for it but she had to acquire it first without him knowing. Once she was done she drove home and a sense of happiness finally settled in her. The panic had finally dissolved. It would be okay. They would be okay. When she got home she noticed Rowan was not in the living room, and when she heard the shower, Aelin smiled. Perfect timing for her to quickly wrap the book and prepare the present. Ten minutes later he emerged with just a towel around his waist and she almost fainted. No matter how many times she had seen him like that, the vision had the power to kill her every single time. “You should stop showing off.” “Says the one who wanders around the house in super tiny nightgowns.” She grinned and closed the distance to him. Her arms went around his waist and pinched his butt in reply. “Come and sit.” “I should go and change.” “No way…” he sat on the sofa and she straddled him and kissed him, brushing her hands in his wet hair. She could not get distracted. She had to tell him first, then they could indulge in other activities. She pulled back a bit and grabbed the wrapped gift on the table “Very late Yule present.” She joked. “You already gave me my present.” He told her while grabbing the packet. “Just open it and shush.” Rowan did that and his face was puzzled when he noticed the book “What to expect when you are expecting…” Aelin grinned savagely when his smile morphed into understanding. “We are pregnant.” She whispered placing a gentle kiss on his mouth then she opened the book and showed him the picture of her ultrasound “Baby A and baby B.” She explained pointing at the two blobs. “Twins? We are having twins?” There was utter joy in his voice and her heart seemed to finally relax. “Is that why you were not well?” His arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Aelin nodded. He pulled her close to him “I love you so much.” “You are not scared or worried?” He kissed her “not in the least. I…” he took a breath “I want kids in my life, Aelin. I never brought up the subject because I wanted to give you the time to make up your mind on the topic and enjoy your career.” He looked her in the eyes “Truth is… I have been brooding for a while now.” Her hands were in his hair again “I was terrified when I realised I was pregnant.” Her forehead leaned against “Until I saw the ultrasound and I saw the twins on the screen I was panicking. Then something clicked in me and I stopped being nervous.” “We’ll do this together. I will be at your side, I will support you and do all I could for the three of you.” Aelin leaned forward and kissed Rowan’s head. She knew he was going to be the most amazing dad ever. “Guess when it happened?” “I don’t know, considering how active we have been…” Aelin smiled. That they had. After they got back from the getaway, they had troubles keeping their hands off each other. They had tried every possible surface in their house that could hold them. And she discovered that Rowan was creative too. She kissed his nose “The getaway.” Rowan laughed “we are going to have a big family,” he leaned against her, their foreheads touching. And for a while they just hugged in silence and all the fears Aelin had during the day had melted away once and for all. “I got the book from our shop. I will pay for it. I swear.” She broke the silence. Rowan laughed “It’s okay, Fireheart, for such an amazing gift, I will forgive you.” He grabbed the book and pushed her off her lap and started reading but Aelin had another idea in mind. The book disappeared form his hands and ended up back on the table and she straddled him again. Then she grabbed the hem of her scrubs and remained in her bra in front of him. “We’ll read later, Buzzard.” she kissed him while her hand travelled south. “We shouldn’t” he said pulling back from her. Aelin rolled her eyes “we have been doing it for two months now. No issues. It won’t hurt the babies. Believe me.” And went back kissing him to try and convince him. His hands trailed up her sides, brushing the band of her bra. Aelin’s arms went behind her back and freed herself. She felt his hands palm her breasts and leaned into the touch. With a swift motion she pulled away his towel, leaving him naked and a smile appeared on her face when she noticed him ready for her. His mouth locked on hers and her hand trailed south, grabbing him. Rowan gasped against her lips. “I thought—“ he stopped after her hand did something wicked to him “You feeling better, I reckon?” “I have to apologise for the past few days.” She breathed against his lips. “Do you?” “Stop talking Buzzard and use your mouth in the wicked way of yours.” Rowan did not complain. He lifted her in his arms as he stood. Her hand reached for him again and this time he moaned as his lips met hers again. “I can’t deny a pregnant woman her wish, can I?”

The next morning Aelin had started the day with her head in the toilet. She had been there for a good twenty minutes when Rowan finally walked in and sat beside her. She leaned against him exhausted. “Are you sure you have to go to work?” “Yeah,” she breathed getting up. His arms went around her to help her stand. “There are loads of ginger biscuits ready. I have packed some in your lunch. A very light one with vegetables and other ingredients that should not make you sick. There are a couple of bits of fresh ginger that you can use for your tea. Apparently it works. I read it in the book you gave me.” She leaned against him. “How did I end up with such an amazing man?” “You came into my shop and stole my heart.” He kissed her head. “Gee, Whitethorn, you can be so damn cheesy sometimes.” His nose scrunched up “All your fault. I was leading the charts for most unpleasant man in Stornoway and then you came along.” They reached the breakfast table and they sat down. Rowan had prepared a strawberry milkshake for her. He was planning on keeping track of all the food she did manage to eat and the one that caused discomfort. “Let’s try with toast with jam this morning and see if you can keep it down.” He offered her the food and Aelin made an attempt at eating. “You should discuss with Malcolm the possibility of him having to take most of your night shifts.” Aelin stopped eating and stared at him in disbelief “I can’t do that.” “You are pregnant.” “So what? It does not mean I can’t do my job. I sleep during the day like I usually do and do it. We have on-call rooms. I can still sleep and rest.” He was not convinced and glared at her. “Eventually you will have to go on maternity leave. Someone will have to cover for you. They can easily start doing it now.” His tone had turned to annoyance and Aelin braced for a fight. “That is months away. I can work now.” She shouted “Being pregnant does not mean I can’t do my job.” “If you can keep your head out of the toilet long enough.” He fired back “and if you can manage to reach the patient while your big bump is in the way. Or spend the entire day running around the A&E while your ankles double in size. Sure, go ahead. Be my guest.” Aelin scoffed “I can do all those things.” She snarled back. “You are carrying twins.” He added through gritted teeth “Do you have any idea of all the possible issues you might encounter?” He crossed his arms at his chest in defiance. “I am a doctor, of course I know.” She shouted back not willing to lose that battle. He grabbed the plates and started washing them ignoring her on purpose. She stood and slammed her fork on the table “This is why…” she shouted, but then she stopped. No, she could not say what she had just thought aloud. Rowan was not Chaol. She could not go down that road of hate and resentment again. Not with him. “I need to go to work.” She said much more calmly. She gathered the food containers he had prepared for her and all the biscuits. Then took a step to him and kissed him “Thank you.” She was a weakling but she could not stand the idea of fighting with him, of being mad at him. He grabbed her arm gently “Take it easy, please.” Aelin rolled her eyes and left the kitchen in silence. Rowan sighed and went back washing all the dishes.

Rowan had a quiet morning in the shop. He had changed the main display in the window and had gone for a winter theme and had selected books that had a wintery theme or were set in that season. He had added a few props and he was quite satisfied. Then he had taken some pictures and shared them as Aelin had showed him. His social media accounts were working and, especially on Facebook, people were engaging with him. Aelin was still the admin of the page and she would still manage most of the content for him. He browsed through the page and marvelled at the amazing job she had done. Then he looked at his followers and found her, Lysandra and Aedion and smiled. Out of curiosity he clicked on her profile and studied it a bit and the first imagine that appeared made him smile. It was a picture of her holding her ultrasound scan of their babies. He read the comments and laughed, although he assumed Lysandra had found out a moment later after he did. Scrolling a bit more he saw a picture of her bragging about her engagement ring and her upcoming pagan wedding. She was always smiling in her photos and he could not keep his eyes off her. Her smile was the first thing that had floored him the day she walked into the shop. He sighed. It felt such a long time ago and he could not believe how much it had happened already. He kept scrolling through her profile and noticed she had been sharing a lot of her life in the islands and also a lot of the posts he had made from the bookshop profile. And then a wild idea hit him. His hand clicked on create profile and step by step he created his profile. As a photo he used the one of a buzzard he found online. A joke that only Aelin would get. Then he went on her profile and added her, Lysandra and Aedion as friends. And that was it for him. He was not interested in more. A moment later a notification appeared saying that Aelin had accepted his friendship and at the same time his phone went off. “Hey.” “Did you just joined Facebook? Did I create a monster?” On the other side Aelin sounded shocked. “I was posting my new display on the bookshop page. Then I saw that you follow the page and had a nosey at your profile and got curious and created one myself. But I am only having you three as friends. I am not sure I will like it.” “I love the profile photo by the way. You two look very alike.” “How are you feeling?” He changed the subject. “Your biscuits are helping a lot and I made the tea as well. I haven’t had nausea since. And don’t worry. Malcolm has been fussing like a mother hen.” Rowan laughed and decided to thank the man next time he saw him. “I got to go. Sorry. Love you.” Rowan hang up and went back playing with Facebook. The store was quiet and all the paperwork was done. He could indulge in a bit of silliness. He had noticed that both Lysandra and Aedion had accepted his friendship and Aedion had also messaged him. They had started chatting and found out that he and Lysandra were working hard on their plan to move to the islands. He had applied to some jobs and was waiting for a reply. He did not realise how much he had spent talking to Aedion until the door opened and Aelin appeared. “Hello you.” He said, coming out from behind the counter. She slammed into him for a hug with just one arm. The other one was holding a bag full of food. He frowned. He took the bag and placed it on the counter and went back to Aelin. “Hi you.” His voice was soft as he cupped her face with one hand. “I brought cake as a peace offering.” “Why?” Aelin sighed “I was not nice this morning. You were just looking after me and I shouted and I almost said things that I would have regretted forever. It’s just…” she looked away for a moment “The hormones. I realise I have been moody lately. We haven’t fought as much as in the past few weeks. But I still need to apologise.” “We are fine.” Rowan kissed her “I am not worried about our fights. They are more spats because we are both stubborn. They are not out of hate and we are not trying to hurt each other with words.” Aelin looked down “I almost did this morning.” Her hands gripped his t-shirt and tears started to flow “I thought something horrible but I stopped because I can’t hurt you.” Her tears became sobs and Rowan’s arms tightened. “I had enough of those fights with Chaol.” “Shhh… “ Aelin kept crying and he rocked her gently. “I am a mess. A patient gave me a hug because I helped her dad and I cried. I am happy, then sad then angry, then back to sad. I am going insane.” Rowan held her tight “then I hid in my office sobbing when I realised we can’t get married on Beltaine.” He looked down at her “Why?” “Have you ever seen a woman pregnant with twins at five months? I’ll get huge. I will not fit in the dress and will not be able to dance with you at the ceilidh.” Her sobs intensified “And I want to do all those things.” “Hey, we can wait.” His hand caressed her head “we’ll get married whenever you feel ready.” She finally stopped crying and looked up at him “but our kids will be there too.” Finally a smile. “We are a scandalous couple.” He joked and she looked at him puzzled “kids out of wedlock? You ruined me miss Galathynius.”

***

Slowly the winter months had passed and spring knocked at the door and March arrived. Rowan was on its way to the hospital to meet Aelin. On that day they had and appointment with Yrene and they hoped to be able to find out the sex of their kids. They had tried on a few previous appointments but the babies were never in a favourable positions. He hoped this time was the right time. Especially because they had a bet going on. Rowan was sure it was one of each, Aelin was positive it was two girls. If Rowan won, he would eat two slices of one of Aelin’s favourite super sugary cakes, whether if Aelin was the winner he had promised a sexy massage with oils. Aelin really wanted to win. He got to Yrene’s office and noticed the woman was alone. “Hi Rowan, Aelin has been held up. She will be here soon.” Rowan sighed and used that occasion to talk with Yrene. “I have some questions.” “Absolutely. Ask away.” Rowan nodded “I have been reading some books on childbirth and I read that multi pregnancies can be a bit more challenging, which makes sense. But I am worried about some of the things I read.” “That is normal. And I know it can be scary. I am planning on testing Aelin today for pre-eclampsia. Aelin’s babies share a single placenta, so you will have identical twins. This means her scans will be more frequent as there are other issues that might arise.” Yrene explained “Chances are they will be premature, but we can discuss a planned delivery as well when Aelin comes back.” “Is that the safest options?” “Yes. It’s the one I’d recommend.”Yrene suggested “but if she doesn’t want she can try and deliver naturally. I will try to get her as close as possible to term, but her body will decided when it’s time. There is a possibility that she will be confined to bed rest.” “She will not like that.” Added Rowan, worried “Is there anything I can do to help?” “Be supportive. Make sure she doesn’t tire too much and that she eats healthy. She is her second trimester so her hormones are probably running wild. Just don’t take it personally if she shouts at you. The more the pregnancy progress the more uncomfortable she will be.” Another question popped in his head and he felt embarrassment rise “Aelin wants to… do stuff. I am just nervous that it might not be a good idea.” Yrene nodded and smiled “that is up to you two. Right now it is still possible but soon it will be quite difficult for Aelin. There are no risks for now but I will not exclude a no sex policy later on, it all depends on her health. Always let her decide, see what she is comfortable with.” “But it’s not dangerous for the babies… I mean my…” he was now red with embarrassment. Yrene laughed out loud “I will be frank, Rowan. Now matter how well equipped you are, there is no chance you’ll get that far up.” His blush was now savage. “Just wanted to be sure.” “Of course.” In that moment Aelin joined them and laughed at Rowan’s state “why is Rowan blushing?” Yrene laughed “he asked if his downstairs friend can hurt the babies during sex.” Aelin roared in laughter “You are perfect, but let’s be realistic.” And the two women laughed. “So, are you ready for the big reveal?” Yrene announced changing the subject and giving a chance to Rowan to recover. Aelin smiled and slowly dragged herself to the bed, and Rowan helped her when he saw her struggle. “Hopefully they are in a good position.” “I hope so, I have a bet to win.” Aelin grinned laying down and exposing her swollen stomach. Yrene spread the gel and began her job. Aelin stared at the screen and tried to brush up her skill from her ob/gyn rotation to remember how to spot the sex. She sat on her elbows and gasped “Is that a girl?” “Well spotted. She is very clear.” Rowan stared at the screen and felt stupid when all he could see were blobs. He trusted them. “The second is hiding,” said Aelin caressing one side of her belly “come on darling, mama wants to know.” Rowan moved at her side and placed a hand on hers on her stomach “dad too.” They waited for a while but it looked like the second baby had no intention of moving. Yrene was about to call it quits when Aelin shifted and the baby shifted as well and in that second it revealed itself. Aelin screamed in delight “Two girls! I win.” “Yrene hasn’t confirmed it yet.” Said Rowan. The doctor laughed “It’s two girls, Rowan.” He had a massive grin. He lowered and kissed Aelin. “I want my prize tonight.” “Yes, my Queen.”

“Twin girls,” said Aelin dreamingly while they were both walking back to the A&E. “And Yrene said they are identical as well.” Aelin nodded “I knew that.” She turned to him and smiled “we’ll have to find a way to tell them apart.” He kissed her head. They reached the pit and Malcolm was walking to them “so, who won the bet?” “This girl here is having a sexy massage tonight.” Malcolm smiled “so it’s two girls.” Rowan and Aelin nodded proudly. “Congratulations, guys.” And he hugged them both. “Aelin, patient in bed 4 needs your care again.” Aelin swore and turned to Rowan “I have to go.” She kissed him and Rowan placed a hand on her belly. “I love you. And I’ll see you three tonight.” She waved at him and left, leaving Rowan with Malcolm. “Look after my girls, please.” Rowan asked to the man “Asking Aelin to slow down seem to be an impossible challenge.” Malcolm patted his shoulder “I have a plan. I will keep an eye on her while she is here.” “Thank you.” Then Rowan said goodbye and went back to work at the bookshop.

Aelin came home at a decent time and Rowan was in the living room reading a book while waiting for her. Aelin noticed his wicked smile and walked to him. “Someone looks naughty.” He kissed her in response and she straddled him. His hands went on the bump and lifted her scrub to reveal the swollen belly. He leaned forward and placed his hands on the side. Aelin had felt the girls move but he hand’t been able yet and he was dying to feel them kick for the first time. “My three girls are finally home.” And kissed the belly. Aelin stood and smiled at him and then disappeared in their room. A moment later she called him and he followed. Once in the room he noticed she was wearing a long blue gown. She took a step to him “I am very tired.” She undid the sash of the gown “I won a massage…”slowly she lowered one side of the gown, exposing her right shoulder and the top of her breast “A sexy one if I remember correctly.” Another step and now the gown was low on her arms, exposing her upper body “I am so very tired.” She repeated letting the gown pool at her feet standing in front of him naked. Rowan went to his drawer and took out something, then pointed to Aelin to get on the bed. She sat on her knees and he took position behind her. He undid her braid and took in her scent of jasmine and lavender. He pushed the hair on one side and kissed her neck and she leaned back into him. “You are gorgeous.” “I am a whale.” She replied stretching her hands behind her to touch him. “You are stunning.” His hands traced her arms up and down, then took her hands and placed them on her bump with his, his mouth kept tormenting her neck. Then he removed the hands and grabbed the small bottle at his side. He dropped some of the liquid in his hands and began his massage from her shoulders. “Is that pine scent I smell?” Rowan nibbled her ear “correct.” “Are you marking the territory?” She joked. “Of course.” He licked her neck “you are my woman and now carry my offspring. It’s my role as alpha male to mark what is mine,” he laughed. “Territorial bastard.” Rowan kept massaging her shoulders and back kneading the sore spots and Aelin moaned “oh yes,” she exclaimed when he hit a spot on her lower back “your hands are amazing.” “I was thinking…” he said while his hands moved lower “what about names?” Aelin’s eyes were closed and she was enjoying his treatment “Do you have ideas?” His mouth was on her neck again “I thought about it, today at work.” He grabbed a bit more oil and moved to her arms and her sides, with fingers brushing her breasts. “Tell me,” she sounded breathless. “Freyja.” “The goddess of love and fertility. She is quite badass.” His hands finally found their target on her breasts and Aelin moaned. She was hypersensitive and his touch sent her reeling “I love it.” She managed in the end. He continued his massage. “What’s the second?” He palmed her breasts one more time and Aelin moaned throwing her head back on his shoulder. “Don’t get mad. I just really adore the name.” “What is it?” “Morrigan.” Aelin chuckled “the goddess of war.” Her hands covered his “big expectations for our daughters, I see?” “I just like the names very much, but we will look for others if you don’t like them. They are just ideas.” “I love them.” She half turned her head to meet his eyes “They are epic. I adore them.” “Are you sure?” “Positive.” “Sit against the head of the bed.” She did that and he stood on his knees between her legs. He smiled tenderly at the image in front of him. To him it did not matter if Aelin called herself ugly because of her big bump, she was beautiful in his eyes. He grabbed a bit more oil and continued his massage at her sides down to her hips and then back up moving then on her bump. He concentrated on the bump for a while. “The girls are loving it.” “Are they moving?” Aelin nodded. He touched the bump but felt nothing. He continued his work along her legs, brushing gently her inner thighs and Aelin’s legs jerked at the touch. “I think you missed a spot.” She laughed and a wicked smile appeared on Rowan’s face. “Saving the best for last.” He leaned forward and kissed her. In that instant his hand went between her legs and Aelin moaned “about friggin time.” He was busy teasing her when Aelin stiffened and he stopped. “What?” She grabbed his hands and placed them on one side of her belly. Rowan waited for a moment and then he felt it. A kick. A powerful kick against his hand. “Guess our girls approve of their dad giving their mum a good time.” Rowan glared at her, then lowered on the bump, his hands still on the spot where the kicks were and he kissed it as well “Your mum is very naughty.” “And you haven’t finished worshipping me,” and Aelin spread her legs but Rowan was far too busy feeling his daughters. “This is amazing.” He whispered, caressing the bump. Aelin’s hand twined in his hair “Come here.” Rowan leaned forward to her while his hand was firmly on the bump. Feeling his girls kick was an incredible feeling and he didn’t want to miss a single moment of it. He kissed her deeply “Did I tell you how happy am I?’ She shook her head and he kissed her again. Then he moved at her side and leaned against her shoulder, with his hand still on the bump “A part of me was for a moment terrified when you told me we were having twins. I was elated at first but the next day all the panic started to hit me. What if I was not ready? what if it was too soon? What if I was not going to be a good dad?” He let his feelings go “And I am terrified. I read all about how multiple pregnancies can be dangerous. That’s why I am fussing. I want to make sure you three are okay. I can’t wait to meet our girls but I am terrified at the same time.” He looked up at her. “I am scared too.” She admitted brushing his hair “I spoke to one of the nurses who had twins a year ago and now I am just as terrified as you are.” She kissed his forehead “and we will be fine and I know you will be the most amazing, most caring dad our girls could have.” He kissed her shoulder “I have an idea to run past you.” He confessed and she nodded. “I was thinking about our housing situation.” He started and grabbed her hand “As soon as the twins arrive, the house might become a bit too small. We can use your old room for them until they are little and sleep in a crib but after that, the room might be a bit too small for two people.” He explained “So I did some research and I found a great place. A lovely croft in great conditions just outside Stornoway. It has four bedrooms, a kitchen that is huge, two floors and a bathroom on each level, and on the ground floor there is a massive room that can easily become our own library. It comes with a nice whack of land that we can use for planting veggies and fruits or for animals if we want a wee farm.” He told her and saw Aelin’s face lit up in joy “There is plenty of space and nature.” Aelin was now in tears which he hoped were tears of joy “I love it.” She whispered. “I can sell my house and I have savings too. We can buy it and renovate it to our liking.” Aelin nodded “I have saving too and I can help. This is something we do together. It’s not all on you.” “I went to see the other day while you were at work and I took some pictures” and he took his phone from his pocket and began showing her the images of the place. “It’s perfect.” “Are you sure? We can look for something else. I went to see it because I was curious. It seemed like a good deal. I didn’t tell you anything because I wanted it to be a surprise.” She brushed his hair again “It’s perfect. And I love the idea of having a library.” “Oh yeah.” He kissed her “we have a book problem and when I saw the gigantic room on the ground floor I knew it was the perfect place.” “Can you take me there?” Rowan nodded “Next time you have a day off we’ll go and see it.” “Good.” And she kissed him “now go back to your job, Buzzard. You haven’t finished your massage and definitely missed a spot.” And Rowan eventually finished his massage leaving Aelin very happy she had won the bet.

Tag:

@rowaelinismyotp sorry it’s a day late. I forgot.

[stahlop]

Ready to Run (2/?)

I know it's been 84 years since I posted a new chapter. I am so sorry. Between birthdays, Secret Santa, January Joy, and Neverland New Year, I kind of over extended myself. I'm hoping to update this every two to three weeks now.

Thanks to @imlaxdris71 for continuing to be my beta for this story.

Prologue Ch.1

Read it on Ao3

“Belle.” He says to his boss and the head of the vlog site. “Come on. It’s an opinion piece. You can’t fire me for having an opinion.” 

“I left you four messages and a slew of texts, Killian.” Belle sighs as she pushes a piece of mousy brown hair that has escaped her barrette away from her face as she looks for something on her laptop.

“And that surprises you? I never answered your messages and texts when we dated either.” He looks over at Will who happens to be in the office as well, which is odd because Will doesn’t usually come to meetings between them. Will is usually never out of the editing room when they’re at the office.

“What’s your boyfriend doing here?” Killian asks grumpily. He’s perfectly fine with Belle dating his best friend. He gave Will his blessing when he asked Killian if he could date Belle after they’d broken up. There were no hard feelings between him and Belle; they just worked better as friends.

“Moral support.” Belle says, her eyes lighting up as she has apparently found what she is looking for.

“Since when do you need moral support, Belle?” Killian teases. Belle does not look amused.

“I’m here for you, you wanker!” Will says practically knocking Killian out of his chair.

“Aha!” She says as she pulls up whatever it was she was looking for. “First rule of journalism, Killian, regardless of whether it’s an opinion piece or not, if you make up your facts, you get fired.” She gives him a stern look, one he got very used to when they were dating. It was a wonder she’d never killed him.

“Second rule: never work for an ex.” He sighs. Belle’s face gets even more stern. Killian has never even seen this face before, and he thought he knew them all. She sighs again and clicks a button on her computer. Killian hears the printer spitting out a piece of paper behind her.

“That has nothing to do with it, Killian.” She says as she rolls her chair around to the printer and grabs what it was she printed out. “If you make something up you get fired.” She looks completely exasperated with him, another look he knows all too well. Killian sighs this time.

“I didn’t make up anything, I had a source.” Belle knows him too well to think he would just make something up, so he’s really confused as to where this whole tongue-lashing is coming from.

“Someone reliable?” She questions raising her eyebrow at him. “Or someone in Liam’s bar?” Oh, he knows her way too well.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don't knock drunk guys in bars. It means they're not driving.” Will laughs at his joke. Killian puts out one arm toward Will and then looks back at Belle as if to say ‘See?’, but she’s still not amused by him. “Besides, l am an opinion vlogger. This is what opinion vloggers are supposed to do.” Killian is slightly agitated that Belle is making him defend himself over this. Usually, he just gets a talking to and that’s that. “It's what you like. We push, we stretch, we go out on a limb. That's what makes me good!”

“No, it’s what makes you fired.” Belle fires back. Killian’s had enough of this.

“What the hell, Belle?” Will laughs again from behind him. So much for support.

“Emma Swan has written a grievance against you and asked you to be fired or she will sue us for slander.” Belle says with finality. Killian’s eyes go wide with shock. Maybe he shouldn’t be getting his ideas from drunk guys in bars. And now that he thinks about it, he really shouldn’t have used her name. Will comes up behind him and rests his hands on Killian’s shoulders in a comforting way. 

“Please Belle, this is my life we’re talking about.” He says, no longer feeling cocky about all this. The wind has been blown out of his sails, so to speak.

“If you go quietly, I’ll see about getting you severance pay.” She says not looking at him in the eyes and handing him the paper she had printed out. He opens it to see the email that Emma Swan had sent about him and he realizes this is real. Just yesterday he was envisioning winning awards for this piece and now he doesn’t have a job.

“Come on mate.” Will says helping him out of the chair and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “I’ll walk you to your desk so you can collect your things and escort you out.” They begin to walk out of Belle’s office.

“I can do it myself.” He says rather angrily. He instantly regrets it. It’s not Will’s fault he’s in this mess. 

“Well, actually, I do. I have to physically make sure you leave the building.” Will says a little embarrassed. 

“Of course.” Killian replies back. This was not how he foresaw his day going at all. Will has ceremoniously provided him with a small box to put everything in. He gathers up a picture of himself and Liam from when they were stationed together on the same ship, both looking pristine in their uniforms. He picks up the picture of Belle, Will, and himself, back when they were all just a bunch of single friends, before dating complications. A picture of himself graduating from college goes into the box, as well as other knicknacks he’s collected over the years. He leaves all the notebooks and writing utensils, he has enough of those at home.

Will stays silent through all this until the elevator doors close behind them.

“I have an idea that will get your job back.” Will says still facing the elevator door and not actually facing Killian. 

“What?” Killian says, confused. “What are you saying?”

“Revenge.” Will says now facing him with a slightly evil smile on his face. He and Will have been friends for a long time, and this is the first time Killian has ever seen this creepy smile grace his face. “How would you like some? A chance to prove that although your story wasn't entirely factual, your theory was correct.”

“The real story on Miss Swan.” Killian interrupts.

 “All the gory details.” Will’s actually rubbing his hands together like a movie villain. Killian raises an eyebrow. This is a side of Will he’s never seen before. For all the trouble they got into as young men, he’s never been blatantly evil about it. But he would like to get his job back. “And if she runs again, even better.” Will shrugs as the elevator bell pings that they’ve reached the ground level and the doors open up to the lobby. 

Will waves goodbye before the elevator doors close back up on him and Killian is left to ponder what Will has said. “Bloody hell.” He whispers to himself and immediately shifts his box to one side and grabs his phone from his pocket. He scrolls to find a car rental place and places the call as he walks outside of his former employer’s building. 

“Yes, I’d like to rent a car for next month.”

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After Henry had been born, Emma Swan had vowed to protect her heart and his heart from any further heartbreak. Having grown up in the foster system, it wasn’t that hard. She’d felt she hadn’t been loved from a very young age, and even though her parents had eventually gotten her back at the age of 10 (they’d been 16 when they had her and thought they’d been giving her her best chance by putting her up for adoption), she still had those trust issues. Neal did nothing to help those issues, and even after he’d gotten out of jail five years later, he was barely there for Henry, despite only living a few neighboring towns over. 

The problem though, was that Emma’s parents were the perfect fairy tale couple (despite the less than fairy tale teen pregnancy and adoption). They had met as children, the mayor’s stepdaughter and the farmer’s son. Her mother, Mary Margaret, and her father, David, had not hit it off at all. They fought like cats and dogs (David even had a scar on his chin from one such fight in which Mary Margaret threw a rock at him). It had eventually all come down to some school dance where they were forced to dance together as the dance’s king and queen, and they had never been apart since. They had married after college and established their careers, and when they had discovered they were pregnant with her little brother, Leo, they decided they wanted their whole family back together. Or at least, have contact with Emma if she’d found herself a loving home already. It took them a few years to find her, and it took Emma a few years to really trust them. After all, they had been the reason she’d been in foster care in the first place. And having a three-year-old brother practically right when she came to live with them sent those trust issues spiraling, as she’d been given up by the Swan family at the age of three when they’d conceived their own child. That was why she’d fallen for Neal so hard and fast. Her parents seemed like true love, and she’d wanted that too. But obviously it didn’t work out as well for her.

And sure, she’d tried finding another guy who could love both herself and Henry unconditionally, but something had always pulled at her gut right as she was walking down the aisle that made her run. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she didn’t want to regret marrying someone, even if she’d been pretty sure right until she walked down the aisle. 

And that’s why Graham was perfect. He knew her. He was under no pretensions about her past. He was currently the town sheriff, but before that he’d been one of the local deputies that helped the FBI take Neal down at her first wedding (the fact that she can think first wedding when she’s never actually been married is still something that wars in her mind). They’d been friends for a long time, he being only three years older than her. And it was after her aborted marriage to Walsh that he finally made his feelings known. Henry already loved him, thought of him as a father figure, and that’s all that mattered. And here they were, a year later, getting ready to get married. 

And she was going through with it this time.

“Graham! Graham!” She runs into the sheriff’s station high off the email she’s just received. “They canned him!” She says excitedly, shoving her phone in his face.

“I’m glad you’re here, Emma.” Graham says, dark blonde hair flopping in his face as he gives her a big ‘luckiest man in the world’ smile. “Try this on.” He hands her a large hiking backpack that he has at the station for some reason.

“Listen.” Emma says, absentmindedly putting her arms through the large pack’s straps as she reads. "Dear Ms. Swan, I apologize to you for this unfortunate matter.  Killian Jones’ vlog will no longer be appearing on our site. Best of luck in your upcoming marriage! Belle French.” She closes her phone and looks at Graham who is now beside her but still holding the pack up, which feels really heavy.

“That’s my girl!” He grins at her, then his face becomes serious. “Now this is the weight of the pack you’ll be wearing on the Inca Trail.” Graham has always wanted to go hiking on the Inca Trail and see Machu Picchu. It’s not really something Emma has ever thought about doing, but it makes Graham happy. It was definitely a better idea than Walsh’s honeymoon plans, which involved seeing different monkey species in their natural habitats all throughout the US. Or August who wanted to go to New York Fashion week and try to crash the runway shows. And then she’s suddenly falling backwards as Graham’s strong hands move away from the pack and the sheer weight of it pulls her down to the ground.

“Um, I think it’s a little heavy, hon. Can you help me up, please?” But instead of helping her up he kneels down and starts peppering her with kisses. She squeals in delight as they start making out on the sheriff’s office floor. Hopefully, no one will come in and interrupt them.

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

Emma is hanging out at Hairandelle, Elsa’s hair salon, while Henry is visiting with his Uncle Leo, when she sees the black Chevelle convertible drive through the center of town. It’s a weekend, so they do tend to get tourists, especially with the beautiful fall foliage that has started appearing on the trees. Elsa raises an eyebrow toward her. She knows how much Emma loves cars. She’d restored her yellow Beetle all by herself, the only other thing Neal had left her with besides Henry. And the Chevelle is beautiful. Emma is tempted to go outside and take a look, has actually opened the door when the driver (who she’d only been able to see from the back until now) gets out of the car, parked in front of the local B&B. He looks slightly familiar to Emma, and then he takes off his aviator sunglasses and Emma’s temper flares!

“I can’t believe him!” She yells as she slams the door behind her, the bell jangling all over the place. Elsa’s expression changes quickly from the knowing smile she’d been displaying previously to one of confusion.

“Can’t believe who?” Elsa asks.

“Killian fucking Jones!” She points out the window at the Chevelle. Emma doesn’t think she’s ever seen Elsa sprint from her seat so fast as she pushes past her to get a glimpse of the man in the flesh. They both stare at him over copies of fashion and hair magazines.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Emma asks, a little panicked. She can’t imagine it’s for anything good, not after getting him fired from his job.

“Maybe he’s here to apologize?” Elsa says. Emma looks at her as if she’s suddenly turned into a snowman. 

“Doubtful.” She looks back over at him from behind the magazine and he turns toward them at that exact moment. He looks the same as he did on that awful vlog that he spoke on. Dark hair that was styled to look like he just rolled out of bed. Scruff on his chin that made Emma think things she really shouldn’t. Graham had the same type of scruff, he probably just makes her think of him. He’s talking to Leroy, the town gossip, and the grumpiest man she’s ever met (who likes to spend a lot of time in her jail cells after a night of drinking). He points straight toward them and then, they make eye contact. She squeaks and moves her magazine back up over her face. “Oh, god! Did he just see me?” She can feel her entire face flushing.

Elsa laughs. “He doesn’t know what you look like, remember?” She says patting her shoulder. But Killian Jones is now heading straight for them, and Emma is pretty sure Leroy just pointed her out to him.

“Shit!” Emma says as he continues toward the hair salon, a swagger in his step. She quickly jumps into one of the large bubble hair dryer stations, stuffs her hair up into the cap, flicks the machine on, crosses her legs, and puts the magazine up in front of her face just as the bell on the door starts jangling again.

“Hello.” Killian Jones says looking at Elsa intently, probably trying to figure out if she is the woman whose life he tried to ruin. “I’m looking for Emma Swan. Leroy over at the B&B said she was over here.” Emma wonders if Elsa would pretend to be her so she can make her escape. Elsa just gives him her patented eyebrow raise before asking him, “Are you a reporter?” like she doesn’t already know the answer. Emma smiles behind the magazine. Elsa’s going to mess with him. He’ll never know what hit him.

Killian Jones, to his credit, looks a bit taken aback that Elsa just straight up asked him if he was a reporter.

“What?” He seems to be trying to play it off as confusion instead of shock at being called out.

“It’s just that it’s been the most recent experience in our town that anyone asking about Emma happens to be a reporter wanting to interview her.” Elsa goes back to her style station and starts picking up various pairs of scissors, inspecting each pair.

“Because of her upcoming wedding?” Killian Jones offers.

“Oh, no.” Elsa says, turning back toward him brandishing a particularly sharp pair of scissors. “Because she got that asshole vlogger fired.” Killian Jones gives a nervous smile. Emma suppresses a giggle from behind her magazine and pretends to continue to be engrossed in the correct hairstyles for your face shape.

“I am just such a reporter.” He says sticking out his hand to shake Elsa’s. “And who might you be?”

“Elsa Frost. Yes, I get the Frozen jokes all the time.” She says never wiping the smile off her face. “And you are?” 

“Looking for Emma.” Killian Jones says flashing a brilliant smile at Elsa.

“Of course. Emma -- Someone to see you.” Elsa yells directly at her. Killian turns to look at the only other person in the salon, herself, and Emma can’t bring herself to drop the magazine from her face quite yet. She should have known Elsa wouldn’t be subtle. It was not her style.

“Emma?” Killian asks, stopping right in front of her. Well, this couldn’t be more embarrassing.

Emma slowly puts the magazine down and gives Killian Jones her brightest smile, as if seeing that she isn’t affected by him will make him change his mind and leave. She remembers at the last moment that she has the bubble hair dryer over her head and manages to flip it up and not bump her head on it. She doesn’t need to completely mortify herself quite yet.

“I really don’t know how much more you can say, sir.” She will not give away the fact that she knows who he is. He thinks he’s playing it cool, but the fact that he’s a vlogger doesn’t hide who he is in the least. Which gives Emma an idea.

“Hey Elsa!” Emma yells out. Elsa comes back around toward them, her blonde braid swishing behind her. As planned, Killian looks at her as she comes around and Emma mimes cutting his hair behind him. Emma quickly puts her hands back to her sides when he looks back at her. “Do you think I should give this reporter the inside scoop on my wedding?” God she hopes he takes the bait. He looks back at Elsa expectantly.

“I think…” Elsa taps her fingers along her cheek, “no one interviews Emma in here without a haircut.” Her face is full of mirth, but her voice is serious as hell.

Killian’s eyes go wide. “Sorry, ladies, just had one.” He then runs his fingers through his hair as if to prove his point.

“Well,” Emma has another idea that she thinks they’d be able to pull off. “what about a nice hot towel for your face? Get all that city dirt out of your pores?” She gives him a wide smile. “I promise I’ll answer your questions.” Killian looks at her questioningly, but then decides to take the win. He gives a smirk and sits down in the chair.

“So, when’s the big day?” He asks while Emma puts the cape over him. Elsa props him back in the chair so he’s in a lying position.

“A week from Saturday.” Emma says in an upbeat voice. She sounds like one of those peppy cheerleaders she always hated in high school. 

“Church wedding?” He asks with an amused look on his face.

“No. I’m not a church person.” Emma laughs at the notion. “We’re doing an outdoor ceremony in the woods at Graham’s cabin.”

“Sir.” Elsa interrupts. “I’m just going to put some lotion on your face, just to make it smoother. Your face will feel so nice once the hot towels are added.” She turns to grab what she needs and smothers a laugh that bursts out with a cough.

“Gum.” Emma explains. “She’s always choking on her gum.”

“So, Miss Swan. Are you nervous for your upcoming nuptials?” He asks, ignoring Elsa’s outburst altogether. 

“No, but I have been having these bizarre dreams…” And Emma makes up a whole slew of bizarre wedding dreams including all her past grooms walking her down the aisle and looking down to find herself in a red, leather wedding gown.

“What do you think all that means?” She asks him as Elsa removes the hot towel from his face and puts him back up into a seated position.

“I’m not really quite sure,” he begins and puts his hand to his chin as if he’s truly thinking about her dilemma, but stops short when he realizes his scruff is no longer there. His eyes grow wide as he jumps up from the chair and turns toward the mirror.

“Smooth as a baby’s bottom.” Elsa says giving Emma a high-five. Killian doesn’t respond but stalks out of the salon instead. Emma follows him. She’s not done messing with him yet.

“Mr. Jones,” she says as she opens the salon door and rests against it while still open. “I hope you realize what a mistake it was in coming here. I’m not some simpering little girl that you can tell lies about and bully to make yourself feel good. You can’t make me feel bad.” She tries to sound casual about it and leaves her arms resting at her sides, even though every instinct in her body makes her want to cross her arms over her chest. But this guy knows body language. She could tell from the way he carried himself in his vlog. Crossing her arms makes her look mad and angry and she can’t give him that.

“I’m not here to make you look bad, Miss. Swan.” He scrubs his hands over his face in frustration. “But apparently you want to make me look bad.” He says as he rubs his now bare chin. He looks like a totally different person without his scruff. Younger, more innocent. “What I’m here for is revenge.” Killian gets up close to her. Too close for comfort. She can smell the chemicals from the hair removal product they used to rid him of his beard. But she can also see his blue eyes and while Graham’s eyes are also blue, Killian Jones eyes are a blue all unto themselves. Emma can see why women find him attractive. “In my heart I feel I’m right about you and I’m going to prove it. You got me fired, Swan. That’s not something I take lightly. You chew men up and spit them out. You’re going to do to this poor wanker what you did to your other three grooms. Run.” His eyes are practically black now. Emma can tell he’s getting off on this ‘dressing down’ of her, but she keeps the smile pasted on her face because she can’t let him see that he’s getting to her, no matter how off his theory about her may be. “You are going to run again, and I’m not leaving here until you do.” Emma almost expects him to jab a finger into her chest, but instead, he backs off and gives her a grin as if he won that round.

“You know Mr. Jones, I’d love to stay and discuss my psyche or whatever it is you think is my motivation for being a multiple time runaway bride, but unlike you, I actually have a job, one I need to prepare for. Goodbye.” She turns and walks off, resisting the urge to look back at him. She won’t give him the satisfaction.

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx  @qualitycoffeethings @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake @klynn-stormz @tiganasummertree @therooksshiningknight @captainswanmoviemarathon

[jasminevolkan]

TIME IN A BOTTLE — self paragraph 001,

& character development TASK #5.

warnings: abandonment issues, divorce, abuse/neglect, death and illness, mentions of christmas, food and alcohol, curse words, jasmine having courage?

JANUARY 1ST 2021, 11:27 am.

Wishes of joy, success and health ended the traditional New Year’s brunch at the Volkan’s residence. Usually, the duo would make this celebration last all day long, but Jasmine had other plans. Instead, she put the leftovers in containers and headed for the exit. She kissed her mother on both cheeks and wrapped her in a tight hug. She earned a pat on the back as a notification she was squeezing her mother’s body too tightly. “Don’t want to let you go,” Jasmine whispered those words like an automatic response. “I’m not going anywhere,” Lana would reply.

They were creature of habits, an inseparable pair. They resembled Russian nestling dolls, there was never one without the other. As years went by, Jasmine grew more and more conscious of the inevitable. She was a star following the moon in a dark night sky, but one day the moon would be swallowed in the void and leave the burning dust nothing but an endless pain, deeper than a black hole. She was no stranger to grief, it did not mean she appreciated the experience. They discussed it often, a little too often to Lana’s liking. Her daughter was so fearless, yet she feared everything in her surroundings. She wished she could fly on her own, but she respected Jas’ desire to circle close to the nest.

They were creature of habits, an inseparable pair. They gifted each other the same thing for Christmas — a holiday they celebrated by choice — however they waited for the first day of the year to open them. Chocolate, candles and promises to spend time together in the future. They made plans to build sandcastles together on a rare calm spot of the beach, where Lana claimed there was a palm tree as old as her daughter. They remembered good and bad events that came out of the previous twelve months.

Usually, they would involve unfortunate recipes or complicated art projects that never came to life. More often than not, they would share a knowing look. The worst that came out of anything was Jasmine’s father. His presence (or lack thereof) impacted them on a daily basis, still. It left a whole in their lives, otherwise complete and satisfying. It fed into Jasmine’s insecurities, it encouraged Lana to relive the constant pain she was in while trying to comfort her daughter. Children to grow old in love and affection. No matter how much love Lana provided, it never seemed to be enough for her daughter.

Love and attention were the same thing as food, for Jasmine. She always craved for more and was afraid she would never get enough.

She walked out of her childhood home and crossed the lawn over to her house. Hidden by the mass of leftovers she carried expertly, she did not notice the box that blocked the door until she bumped her foot against it. She tried to scoot around the obstacle, in vain.

The breeze blew stronger, whipping locks of chocolate brown hair on her face. It sent a wave of goosebumps down her spine. She leaned down to open the box, pulling out stuffed animals, birthday cards and other items she remembered seeing in stores but never having the courage to buy it. Expensive paint brushes and other supplies, sets of gold earrings that sparkled under the sun; the list went on. She picked up a pink bunny, it seemed old and resembled one she had in her oldest memories but could never find again.

Jasmine looked up from the objects, the bunny squeezed tightly against her chest. She frowned and looked around, her mother was not on the porch, the other neighbours were probably asleep or gone. Avalon seemed very quiet, almost surreal.

Surreal like the shadow she noticed standing at the corner of the street. Her eyes squinted and blinked, but they seemed to have washed away the familiar silhouette. Somehow, the bunny felt like it radiated a comfortable warmth. She read the message that was left on the box, the handwriting was printed in her memory.

“I love you. I am sorry it took me your whole lifetime to realize it. Signed, “

The end of the message was scribbled in a whirlwind of blue ink. She had to focus really hard to recognize the three letters. Contrary to the presents or the mysterious figure, the word resonated no familiarity.

“Dad.”

FEBRUARY 14TH 2021, 3:02 AM.

Jasmine kept this a secret, the box and the message. She tried to play it cool, like it did not affect her that her father was trying to build the bridge he destroyed when he left for New York City. She hated New York. She hated bridges. She hated him.

No.

She loved him.

She pulled out a pink gel pen from this same pencil case she carried since high school, it had little doodles and messages written at the back from her friends. She ripped a sheet away from her binder that she used for ideas at work. And she improvised. It usually felt so natural for her, to cross boundaries and to do as she pleased. This time, it was painful and almost impossible to do.

“I loved it when you took me for a drive around the island on nights where I couldn’t sleep. I loved it when you brought me to the candy store after forgetting to pick me up from daycare because you were busy. I loved it when you read stories to me during rainy days so I would be quiet and fall asleep. I loved it when you gave me seashells from all of your work trips, even if they looked identical to those on the beaches down the street. I loved it when you took me to the park and pushed me on the swings just long enough before you got a phone call. I loved it when you wrote notes in my lunch boxes on school days, I saved them all in a bottle of bourbon you left on my night stand that one time you came home as the sun was rising.

I loved it when you acted like a father, even if it was just for a split second.

I love receiving magazines and seeing your name on the front page, congratulating you for all the listings you manage to sell. I love staring at the pages of photos and noticing that I look just like you. I love thinking of new ways to improve myself, because that’s what you would have wanted to. I love thinking you might come back here one day and we can make up for all the time we wasted loathing each other. I love thinking one day we might have a family portrait identical to the one you had in your office of your wife and kids. I love thinking that one day you’ll have one of me with them and hang it on your wall at home. I love thinking that one day, I will get to call you Dad.

I forgive you. I forgive you for leaving mom alone with me. I forgive you for hurting me so much I might just never heal. I forgive you for finding your happiness elsewhere. I forgive you for failing as a father. I forgive you for learning how to do better with your other children. I forgive you for leaving the life you never wanted. I forgive you for having dreams that were larger than what we could give you. I forgive you for breaking the promises you told me of this life where we would be a happy family.

I love you,”

The old pen was running out of ink, so she shook it vividly. She did not bother wiping her tears away, not the stain of pink on her hand that was tinting the paper. She added this short word she had blocked out of her memory all this time. It was just a nickname for all, but for her. She remembered the tone of his voice whenever he said this word, it was calm and posed, loving and caring. He said it rarely, but she could still hear it so clearly.

“Jojo.”

FEBRUARY 14TH 2021, 11:58 PM.

She scrunched the sheets of paper into a ball and threw it on the floor, missing the trash can by two feet at least. She then moved to the couch, grabbing her laptop from the coffee table and logged on her email. Her fingers floated above the keyboard until the screen turned darker. She was looking up to the clock on the wall, watching the seconds fly by.

She took a deep breath, hoping it would slow down time. It had the opposite effect, feeding into this adrenaline rush she desperately tried to repress since the beginning of the year.

She loved him. She never stopped, never will. It would not change. Something needed to change, however, and it was her unhealthy habit of being silent when she needed to speak out the most.

TO: Aleksander Volkan (avolkan@hudsonriverestate.com)

FROM: Jasmine Volkan (iluvicecream@gmail.com)

SUBJECT: Receipts and birthday cards

Fuck you. <3

Minnie pressed the button, and sent the email. She shut her laptop close and ran to the abandoned paper on the floor. She unfolded it and held against her chest, disappearing into a room in the search for an envelope.

She was too far to hear the immediate sound of a response.

TO: Jasmine

FROM: Aleksander

SUBJECT:

I love you too.

[orangeoctopi7]

The Temporal Tipping Point

Chapter 1 : Chapter 2 : Chapter 3 : Chapter 4 : Chapter 5 : Chapter 6 : Chapter 7 : Chapter 8

Stan and Ford were able to drive home and make their way up to the bathroom to clean themselves up without incident. Crampelter and his thugs had scratched Stan up with their cleats, but luckily he wasn’t bleeding. The only blood came from Ford’s knuckles. His inexperienced baby hands weren’t used to this kind of punishment, and his already winter-dried skin had cracked.

“How do they feel?” Stan asked worriedly as he gently washed the cuts. Rookie boxers had been known to break bones in their hands if they punched too hard before they’d built up a resistance to that kind of wear and tear.

“It just stings.” Ford assured his brother, although his grimace hinted it hurt more than he let on. "What about you? You're the one who just got beaten into the ground."

Stan gave an offended snort. "Don't give that bozo too much credit. He just got lucky when a fall knocked the wind outta me, and then he never gave me the chance to recover."

"Yes, and then he proceeded to recreate one of the most traumatic moments of your life."

"What, gettin' shoved in a car trunk?" Stan chuckled. "Please. Between gettin' kicked out, losing you to the portal, Weirdmageddon, and gettin' my memory erased, that doesn't even crack the top ten anymore."

"If you're trying to be reassuring, it's not working." Ford tried to joke, but tears rolled down his face. He wiped away at them and hissed as the salt made his cracked knuckles sting even more. "Gah, why can't I stop crying?"

"I dunno, I don't remember you being this much of a baby before." Stan teased him good-naturedly. "Now quit rubbing your eyes and let me bandage those knuckles properly."

Stan rubbed in a bit of disinfectant cream as carefully as he could. Ford still flinched and hissed; his teenaged body obviously had a lower pain tolerance. They were both concentrating so hard on applying the bandages that they didn’t notice Filbrick approaching.

“What did you do?” Their father loomed disapprovingly in the bathroom doorway.

The twins exchanged a quick glance. They hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, they had stolen from the school, but Filbrick had no way of knowing that just from walking in on them bandaging Ford’s hands. So why was he frowning down on them like he’d just caught a couple of kids with their hands in the cookie jar?

“...Ford fought off Crampelter.” Stan finally said with a cautious smile. Their dad was always telling Ford he needed to man up and fight back. Surely, he’d be proud to learn his eldest son had finally done just that.

But no. Filbrick remained as cold and unimpressed as ever. He shook his head scornfully and scowled at Stan. “You’re only good for one thing around here, and you can’t even do that right.”

Stan recoiled like he’d just been slapped in the face with a wet fish. He felt Ford start to stand up beside him, and he wanted to pull his brother back, to tell him to let it go, to just save it for the right time. But like every other encounter with Filbrick’s ire, Stan froze, paralyzed with fear of what their father might do to him.

Ford, on the other hand, felt none of that fear. He’d been struggling to keep his temper in check around his father for the past few days, and here was where his patience finally snapped.

“Only good for one thing!?” the young genius fumed. “You don’t even have an inkling of what Stanley is capable of! You can’t even begin to conceptualize the lengths he’ll go to, the things he’ll sacrifice for this family! Meanwhile, all you’ve ever done was try to measure us against each other, when all either of us wanted to do was please you! But it’s a fool’s errand! Even when I’m winning national awards and earning multiple PhD’s, all you’ll do is criticize and complain that I’m not bringing in enough money, because you will never be satisfied.” His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “Stanley is ten times the man you’ll ever be.”

A tense silence filled the air as Ford’s rant sunk in. Filbrick was visibly shaken by his son’s sudden outburst. The longer the silence stretched, the higher Stan’s heart-rate climbed. How was their father going to react?

“Get out.” Filbrick finally hissed, barely holding together his stoic facade over the indignation. “You don’t like the way I parent? You don’t gotta stick around to see it, then! Get outta my house, you ungrateful brat!”

Stan’s paralysing fear morphed into activating panic. “Dad, you can’t!”

“Since when do you get a say in what I can and can’t do?” Filbrick growled.

“I won’t let you do this to Ford!” Stan stepped between his brother and his father.

Their father looked down on him incredulously. “I promised myself I’d never lay a hand on either of you. Never let myself do to you like my pop did to me. You’re makin’ it really hard to keep that promise right now.”

“Dad, listen to me!” Stan pleaded. “If you do this, if you kick either of us out, you’ll live to regret it. You’re gonna spend every day wishing you’d done differently, even if you never admit it to anyone until you’re on your deathbed.”

“Shut up!” Filbrick yelled, finally snapping. 

Stan closed his eyes and braced himself for his father’s next string of insults… but it never came. He peeked an eye open, only to see his father’s face frozen mid-shout.

Stan looked over his shoulder at his brother. Ford looked just as stunned, and he pointed wordlessly to the bathroom faucet. A drop of water had stopped just short of hitting the basin below.

“What the H--?” Stan wondered.

“This is the Time Paradox Anomaly Avoidance Squad!” A deep voice commanded from just down the hall. “Come out with any muskets or pet rocks where we can see them!”

The brothers shared a bewildered glance. 

“Now they show up?” Ford said with surprise.

“I guess we just found out what kind of enormous act it takes to change the timeline.” Stan concluded.

They carefully stepped around their father’s paused form, hands in the air placatingly. Two big, buff time agents were standing at either end of the hall, blocking any hope of making a run for it. They each wore name tags that read Lolph and Dundgren. 

“We didn’t purposefully come back here to alter the time steam.” Ford explained calmly. “I was simply attempting to fix a malfunctioning time tape. It misfired, sending us back to this time and place. I’ve been trying to repair it so we could return to our own time.”

“Where is the malfunctioning time tape?” Dundgren asked.

“In my desk, upstairs.” Ford answered. “Second drawer from the top, underneath my methods paper.

Dundgren gestured to Lolph, who pounded up the stairs to find it.

“And why did the two of you start telling your father about his future?” Dundgren interrogated.

The twins exchanged a grimace. They had started doing that, hadn’t they? It all sort of just slipped out.

“...was trying to make a point…” Ford muttered lamely.

Dundgren’s glare made it clear that wasn’t an acceptable excuse.

“Hey, we’ve had to put up with that jerk all week!” Stan defended. “He finally pushed Ford too far, and we snapped! You would too, if you had to deal with him!”

“Hmmm, maybe so.” The time traveler admitted as he examined Filbrick’s frozen form. “He looks like a real piece of work.”

“I found the device.” Lolph declared as he returned from upstairs.

“Great, can we go home now?” Stan asked.

Dundgren ignored him and took the broken device. After looking it over carefully for a moment, he pulled out his blaster and disintegrated it.

“Hey!” Stan cried.

“Relax, Stan.” Ford reassured him. “I’m sure they have their own functioning models.”

“Correct.” Lolph said as he and Dundgren took out their own time tapes, grabbed each brother by the shoulder, and warped them away in a flash of brilliant blue light. 

The four of them now stood in their attic bedroom. Stan briefly wondered why they had to time warp just to go upstairs, when he glanced at the calendar above Ford’s desk. January 15th, 1969. The day they’d arrived.

Lolph looked down at a watch-like device on his wrist. “Aaaaand… reset!”

Dundgren nodded. “Good. Now that we’ve undone all the damage you did, you’re under arrest for violation of the Time Traveler's Code of Conduct!”

“What!?” Stan protested, “But it wasn’t our fault!”

“But, since you’re the ones who defeated Bill Cipher, and you were at least trying to avoid changing the timeline, we won’t just throw you into the infinitentiary.” The time traveler continued.

“Oh, phew.”

“You’ll have the chance to battle for your freedom in Globnar instead!”

“What!?” Ford cried incredulously.

“Eh, the kids did it.” Stan shrugged confidently. “How hard can it be?”

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Weight of the World

Fandom: Alex Rider/ Hawaii Five-0

Summary: Healing is an upward battle; taking the first step is an act of bravery. OR Five times Alex didn’t want help but got it anyway plus the one time he did ask.

A/N: I have been working on this for, like, three months. I hope it reflects that, lol. Title(s) from Citizen Soldier’s Weight of the World. Set early in the series, beginning the end of January and running through the middle of March, during the first year Alex is living with Steve. Those content warnings below are not there for funnsies. Proceed with caution.

Series: Don’t You Worry, Child

Content Warnings: self-harm, panic attacks, depression, general self-depreciation

. . . .

i. sometimes it’s so hard to breathe

Alex stared blankly at the screen of his laptop, the letters of the text he was supposed to be reading blurring together. Some days he felt like he was living under water, and apparently today was one of them. Everything felt distorted and not quite real, like he was simply drifting along wherever the tides felt like taking him. He was more grateful than ever on days like today that Steve wasn’t forcing him to attend school in person so it wasn’t a big deal when he couldn’t seem to focus on anything.

The front door clicked open then closed again and Alex only half-registered the greeting that accompanied it. Steve appeared in the doorway a moment later, a frown creasing his brow as he glanced at the laptop on the dining table. “I’d ask how school is going, but I can see for myself. You haven’t made any progress?”

The words were spoken softly and the logical part of Alex’s brain knew Steve wasn’t upset with him. Regardless, anger flashed hot his chest and he slammed the screen down over the keyboard with far more force than necessary. “Obviously.”

Steve sighed. “Alex --.”

“Look, I don’t need a lecture,” he snapped, standing up with so much force he sent this chair topping over behind him.

Steve held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, I’m not upset; I’m just trying to understand.”

“Well, you can’t, so stop trying. I couldn’t focus so I didn’t get anything done. That’s all there is to it.”

“Okay.” Steve’s voice was still soft, gentle. “That’s all you had to say, buddy. It’s alright.”

Alex knew his anger was irrational but he didn’t know where it had come from or even why it was there. He did know that it was making his chest tight and it was getting harder to breathe.

Oh. Oh no. Not now.

He needed to sit back down but his chair was on its side and he was frozen in place.

“Alex, are you okay?”

Crap. “‘m fine.” The words came out in a wheeze that he wasn’t even sure Steve heard.

“Clearly that’s a lie.” Oh. Steve had heard him. “Let me help you --.”

Nonononono. Before he knew what he was doing, Alex had reached out and pushed Steve away from him, stumbling back a couple of steps himself, only keeping from tumbling to the floor by catching the edge of the table with one hand. “Don’t!”

“Okay -- hey, it’s okay. I wasn’t going to touch you and I won’t if you don’t want me to, Alex.”

Oh. Alex tried to suck in a breath -- tried to stop this from getting any worse -- and choked on it instead. Still, he had done this a hundred times on his own; he didn’t need help.

“Tell me five things you know, Alex.”

“What?” he asked, brow creased in confusion.

“Trust me. Tell me five things you know -- doesn’t matter what they are, just any five things.”

Without thinking, he blurted out the most prominent thing on this mind: “I’m having a panic attack.”

A soft huff followed by, “Sure are, buddy. That’s one; four more.”

Four more things he knew; what else besides that? Now that he was aware of the problem, it was difficult to think of anything other than that he couldn’t breathe. “I’m...in Hawaii?” Lame; that was lame but it was all he could come up with.

Despite his answer, Steve’s voice was still steady, unmocking. “Yes, you are. Three more.”

His thoughts were scattered and it was difficult to pull anything out of the incomplete bits floating around. He would have to make do with the ones he could catch. “I’m way behind in school…”

“But you’re trying. Two more.”

“I love living here.”

“Glad to hear it. One more.”

“I’m terrified of having to leave.” What. No. Why would you say that --.

A soft sigh. “Not if I have anything to say about it. That’s five. Now, open your eyes and tell me four things you can see -- other than yourself and me.”

Open his eyes? ...Oh. Alex had no idea when he had closed them, but they definitely were. It took more effort than he thought it should to peel his eyelids back, but he finally managed after what felt like a very long time.

“There we go. Four things you can see, Alex.”

Glancing around, this was decidedly easier. “The chair, the table, my laptop -- uhm.” Maybe not. It was a simple request; why couldn’t he even do that much?

“It’s okay. Look a little farther away from you. One more thing.”

Swallowing around the tightness in his throat, he turned his head slightly and lifted his gaze. “The desk.”

“Good. Three things you can feel.”

The first one was easy. His left hand was still gripping the table from when he’d stumbled back. “The table.”

“Can you describe how it feels to me? It doesn’t have to be a lot.”

Alex brushed the pads of his fingers over the surface. “Smooth but you can still feel the grain.”

“Two more things you can feel.”

Alex sucked in a breath that still rattled in his lungs, still not enough air but at least it was something. “My sock is bunched up in my shoe. It’s uncomfortable.”

Steve snorted. “Then why haven’t you fixed it? Nevermind; don’t answer that. One more thing.”

“Uhm, my shirt? It’s one of the new ones so it’s still soft.”

“Good. Two things you can hear.”

He paused, forcing himself to listen for something outside of this own pounding heart and rasping breaths. “The clock in the kitchen...and the ocean.”

“And one thing you can smell.”

He took another breath -- through his nose this time -- and while his chest was still tight, he found that he could. “The stew in the oven.”

“It does smell good. Thanks for making it by the way.” A pause. “Feel better?”

“A little. Still hurts to breathe, but I’ll live. I’m sorry for snapping.”

“You were panicking. It’s okay. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

There was, but he didn’t want to admit it after what had happened. “A hug?” If he were honest, it would have helped sooner had he allowed it instead of having a visceral reaction to the idea of being touched. He wasn’t sure why he had reacted that way, but he could mull it over later.

“I think I can manage that. Come here.”

For once Alex didn’t hesitate to step around the table and accept the comfort he was being offered. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed this until Steve’s arms closed around him, one hand at the back of his head, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe again -- not because he was panicking; oh, no -- this time because he was crying. Much to his horror, he couldn’t stop.

The tears didn’t last long, but Alex was still beyond embarrassed. He was mortified and exhausted and wanted nothing more than to stay right where he was forever, but he knew he would have to move sooner rather than later.

Steve sighed above him. “I feel like there’s a whole lot going on here. You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Alex mumbled. How could he possibly talk about what was wrong when he didn’t know that himself?

“Figured as much, but that wasn’t really a request, buddy. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Can’t tell you what I don’t know either.”

“Okay. How about I make you some tea, you can relax for a bit, and we’ll try to figure this out together.”

Taking a deep breath, Alex pulled away and picked up the chair he had knocked over. “I think I’ll sit outside if that’s okay.”

“Of course. I’ll join you in a bit.” Steve turned for the kitchen but hesitated when Alex spoke again.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Are...are you mad?”

“No, I’m not mad. Why would I be?”

“I didn’t tell you that I’ve been having panic attacks still.”

Steve’s face softened. “Honestly I should have known because you did tell me once before. I should have been paying more attention and noticed you were struggling before now. So, for that, I’m sorry. I do wish you would have talked to me, but I understand why you didn’t. That level of trust takes time to build, but I’m here for the long haul, so you can tell me things when you’re ready to. When the time comes, I’ll be here to help however I can. Alright?”

Alex could only nod in relief. Logically he knew he should have expected that answer, but he was still getting used to this -- didn’t know if he ever truly would get used to having someone around who cared so much.

So many days it was still so hard to breathe but maybe, he thought, with enough time it would finally get easier.

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

ii. too worn to fight

Alex knew it was going to be a rough day when he slept through his alarm. Even though he didn’t have to go anywhere, Steve still insisted that he not sleep too late, and normally Alex did fine with it.

But not today apparently.

He lazily watched his phone vibrate with an incoming call from Steve and, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should answer it. The call went to voicemail and he could see he also had a handful of texts from his guardian -- the usual, he was sure, things like ‘did you eat’ and ‘how’s school coming’ -- and the fact that he hadn’t replied had prompted the call. Steve would be worrying about him right now but somehow he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

No, that wasn’t quite right. He did care. It was more like...he didn’t feel anything at all. The fact that Steve was worried seemed to exist on another plain parallel to his own. He cared that Steve was worried, but it was like that worry couldn’t reach him.

His phone vibrated again -- once, short -- to notify him he had a voicemail. He knew he should pick it up and text Steve. If only his arms didn’t feel like lead. Some days he could fight this overwhelming exhaustion that settled into his bones; others, it didn’t seem worth the effort.

Alex didn’t know how long he laid staring at the wall but it was long enough that his plone began to vibrate with another call from Steve.

Again, Alex didn’t move to answer it. Even if he could have summoned the energy to do so, what was he supposed to say? That he hadn’t gotten out of bed yet and couldn’t seem to muster the will to move? Steve would surely drop everything to come home. As much as Alex wanted that -- because he suddenly realized that he did -- he couldn’t stand the thought of the man abandoning his work when there was nothing objectively wrong. At least this way maybe Steve would stay at work.

The call went to voicemail again, and Alex let his eyes slip closed. Maybe if he could sleep just a little longer then he would have the energy to text Steve back…

The next thing Alex knew, calloused fingers were running through his hair. Sighing contentedly, he was happy for the moment to believe that it was now late enough in the day that Steve should be home by now. He didn’t want to consider that Steve had left early because of him.

“You awake, bud?”

“Hmm.” He didn’t want to be. Somehow he was still exhausted.

Steve was quiet for a moment. “I can see you’re having a hard time right now, but I can’t let you stay in bed all day.”

Alex knew it was childish but he didn’t care; he let out a whine anyway. Now he wished he had managed to reply to those texts. He could have bought himself at least a little more time.

“I know, I know. But trust me: you’ll feel better for it. So I need you to get up, get changed, and come downstairs. I’m going to make you something to eat, and then we’re gonna marathon those movies you keep telling me I need to see. Okay?”

He blinked his eyes open and noted that Steve at least had the decency to look remorseful for doing this to him. “Can’t move.”

“I’ll help you. You don’t have to do this alone, Alex. We’ll get you through this together.”

Alex sighed as Steve gripped his arm and pulled him up. He couldn’t fight this alone, but maybe with Steve’s help, he could still get through it.

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

iii. hope you know I tried

Alex stared out the window as Kukui High came into view, swallowing around the lump in his throat. This had always been the plan -- that he would take some time “off,” learning remotely, before eventually returning in person -- but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Steve hadn’t said a word about it, but Alex knew the school was putting pressure on the man to get Alex back in the classroom. Trying to relieve some of the stress on Steve’s shoulders, Alex had resigned himself to his fate.

He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as Steve pulled up to the front of the building. He really did not want to do this.

“Alex? Are you sure you’re ready to go back?”

Taking as deep of a breath as he could manage, he reached for the bag at his feet with one hand and for the door handle with the other. “Yeah. See you later,” he said, jumping out and slamming the door behind him before Steve could protest.

He could do this -- he had to do this. If he wasn’t able to be physically present by the end of the semester, they would have to find another option for the next year. Most likely he would end up in a homeschooling program, which honestly didn’t sound half-bad to him but… He needed to do this.

He needed to feel normal again.

As soon as he had stepped into the building, Alex knew he had made a mistake. There were only a few minutes until the late bell would ring, and the hallways were crowded with students, rushing to their first class of the day. Alex felt his heart hammering against his ribs as his anxiety spiked. There were too many people and not enough exits. Someone brushed against his arm as they passed and his skin burned from the brief contact. There were too many people, and he was suffocating.

Alex ducked into the restroom, thankful to find it empty. He dropped his bag to the floor and slid down the wall until he was sitting, his head falling back as he tried to take deep breaths. The empty space around him helped, but with the clarity came the horrible realization: he couldn’t do this.

The bell rang loud and shrill in the silence.

Great, now I’m late. Not that it matters, he thought bitterly. You tried, and you failed. What’s Steve going to think of that, huh?

He wanted to tell Steve even less than he wanted to make another attempt to get to class. But he also knew he couldn’t just sit here. Steve had told the school Alex was coming in today so if he didn’t show up -- if he just skipped -- they would call Steve and he would find out anyway.

Reluctantly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. But what was he supposed to say? I’m sorry but I didn’t even make it to first period? Steve had been placing an emphasis on being completely honest lately, but this… He had promised he would be fine, that he could do this. How was he supposed to admit that he actually couldn’t?

With a huff, he quickly typed out a message and hit send before he could think too much about it. He shouldn’t have been surprised when his phone vibrated less than a minute later, Steve asking if Alex was able to call. He wanted to say no, but he didn’t have a reason to do so.

Steve picked up on the first ring. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

“Would I be calling you in the middle of class if I was fine?”

Static echoed over the line as Steve sighed. “I’m on my way back. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Rather not. It’s stupid.”

“I can promise you it’s not.”

Alex hesitated. How could he still be honest without having to admit he’d almost had a panic attack? “Guess I’m just not ready after all.”

“Okay. That’s okay. We can try again another day.”

Alex chewed his lip for a moment. “I’m sorry. I tried -- I really did. I just -- I don’t know.” This was so stupid. Why couldn’t he do this one simple thing?

“I know you did, buddy. It’s okay. I promise.”

He wasn’t convinced, but he could deal with his feelings later. “Okay.”

“Alright. Think you can get yourself down to the office?”

The halls were clear by now; everyone had gotten to class long before. “Yeah.”

“I’m five minutes out, so I’ll see you in a bit.”

As Alex hung up, he let out a defeated sigh, his head falling back against the wall again. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as he had thought after all.

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

iv. I can’t forgive

Alex had been cornered and he knew it the moment Steve cleared his throat. Sitting at the dinner table, meal only half eaten, there was nowhere to run.

“Care to explain why I got an email from the school today saying that you failed to take some careers survey thing by the due date?”

“I don’t do due dates?”

“Wrong answer. You’ve known you needed to do it since they agreed to you learning remotely back in January. And I know you didn’t just forget because they said they’d sent you several reminders. Wanna try again?”

Alex shrugged. What was he supposed to say? The truth wasn’t particularly easy to swallow. “Looked at the questions, didn’t know how to answer. So I didn’t.”

“Alex.”

Crap. So much for going with the half-truth version. He should know better than that by now, really. Still… “It’s the truth. What else do you want me to say?”

“It’s only half the truth. We’ve talked about this.”

They had. At length. Multiple times. Didn’t make it any easier, though. Just thinking about it had the anger swelling up in his chest, and he set his fork back on his plate with more force than strictly necessary. “What do you want me to say, then? That MI6 ruined my life and I have no prospects because I’m going to be lucky to pass this year, much less graduate? I couldn’t answer those questions because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!”

Silence hovered around the table for a moment, Alex staring down at this plate as if the peas there had somehow personally offended him, before Steve spoke again. “It’s alright to not know, Alex -- you do know that, don’t you? You could have put down that you’re undecided. That survey is just meant to give an indication of where you’re at, so it’s okay to not know. You’ll get there, Alex; you’ll figure it out. You’ve got time.”

“And if I never figure it out? What then?”

“You will.”

Alex slammed his hands down onto the table, standing abruptly, his chair screeching against the wood floor from the force. “No, I won’t.”

“Alex --.”

“No!” Alex was yelling now, but he didn’t care. “You don’t know what it’s like, okay? You don’t. They stole my whole life from me. Everything! My family, my friends, my future; and now I’ve got nothing left. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be or what I’m supposed to do, and it’s all their fault!” He was vaguely aware of the angry tears building in the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision, but again he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “Every time I tried to fill it out, all I could think about was them, about how I’d been trained growing up, how my life has never been mine, and I’d just get so angry. I can’t let this go, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Steve was silent for a moment before rising to his feet and slowly embracing Alex, who couldn’t help but melt into the offered comfort. “You’re wrong you know,” Steve started softly. “They haven’t taken everything from you -- not yet, at least -- not if you don’t let them. I know it’s hard to let go of the things that have hurt you, but the only way they can keep stealing from you now is if you hold onto your bitterness and anger. That doesn’t mean you have to forgive them for what they did to you; it just means that you refuse to let it control you. You still have a future, Alex. You can take it back from them.”

Alex pressed his forehead harder into Steve’s shoulder, two years of memories and emotions flooding his mind. How was he expected to let go of the hatred and regret? How was he supposed to let go of the things that made up so much of who he was now?

Truthfully, he wanted to. But he didn’t know how.

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

v. but it feels deserved

Alex wasn’t stupid; he knew that Steve knew even if his guardian hadn’t said as much. Steve was a cop after all; of course he would have noticed the scars on Alex’s arm after more than two months under the same roof. Steve had never said anything, it was true, but Alex figured since the marks were old and fading, Steve wasn’t concerned.

Then again, maybe he was stupid after all. Because there was no way he was going to be able to hide this, whether Steve already knew or not. It was a bit...glaringly obvious.

Sighing in frustration, he watched the blood drip slowly off his arm and into the bathroom sink. He hadn’t meant for this to happen; he had been doing so well for months now. He wasn’t even sure what had triggered this. One moment he’d been working on school stuff, and the next he had found himself craving the release that he had only been able to truly sate one way. Now his wrist burned and he was left to wonder if it would be better to tell Steve directly or wait for the man to notice and bring it up.

Surely Steve would understand...wouldn’t he? He had been so calm and collected about everything so far, but what if this was the last straw?

He didn’t want to tell Steve -- didn’t want to have the same conversation he’d had so many times already. But he couldn’t hide it either; there was no way.

No matter what choice Alex made, Steve would be disappointed. Disgusted? Put off. No one wanted to deal with this sort of thing; that was why he had tried so hard to stop in the first place, but apparently he hadn’t tried hard enough.

If you’re getting kicked out again, then it doesn’t matter if you keep going, does it?

It was a tempting thought, to let himself go back to his most effective (and worst) coping strategy. Alex took a deep breath, grip tightening around the handle of his pocket knife.

And then the front door slammed closed, followed by the ever familiar voice calling out, “I’m home.”

Crap. He lost his grip in surprise and the knife clattered into the sink, his breath getting caught in his throat. Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Alex knew he needed to work fast to get himself cleaned up, but he was frozen in place, heart pounding.

“Alex? You up here?”

“Bathroom.” His voice was shaking and he prayed Steve wouldn’t notice.

No such luck. The footsteps came closer, and when Alex glanced up to the mirror, he could see Steve through the gap, knew Steve could see him too, though not the blood staining the porcelain. 

“You okay, kiddo?”

Alex took a deep breath, tried to steady his voice as he spoke. “Fine.”

Silence, then: “You know that wasn’t convincing, right? What’s wrong?”

He could lie -- or try to, at least, but Steve could always tell somehow, even when his voice wasn’t shaking the way it was right now. He couldn’t lie, but he couldn’t tell the truth either.

“Is it okay if I come in?”

Alex knew he could say no and Steve would respect that, but was there any point in refusing? If Steve was going to find out anyway, it might as well be now. “I guess.”

As the door swung open behind him, Alex closed his eyes and waited with baited breath for the inevitable reaction.

But it never came.

A heavy hand landed between his shoulder blades and began to rub back and forth, and after a moment, Steve finally spoke again, voice gentle and without even the barest hint of condemnation or disappointment. “Okay, buddy, this is what’s gonna happen now: we’re gonna get you cleaned up and then we’re gonna go downstairs and relax for a while. You can tell me what happened if you want -- or not; it’s up to you. We’re gonna do whatever we need to in order to get you back to a better headspace, okay?”

Alex felt like crying; he should have known by now that Steve’s response to everything related to him was to help in whatever way was needed, but he still hadn’t expected it. Somehow he had still thought Steve would be done with him after this, that he’d call Mr Kent and Alex would be alone to deal with his demons once again.

He didn’t deserve this though -- the help and care Steve constantly offered. After everything he’d done -- everything he’d been a part of -- it didn’t make sense. For all the hurt he’d caused, pain was what he deserved.

But he couldn’t say any of that; for now, all he could do was nod.

Ten minutes later, wrist cleaned and wrapped, Alex found himself comfortably smushed between Steve and the back of the couch, head resting on the man’s chest, feeling much calmer than he had before.

Despite it all, the urge was still there, itching uncomfortably underneath his skin. He hated it -- hated that the only thing keeping him from scratching it was Steve’s presence.

He didn’t realize he was aggressively rubbing his thumb over the bandages until Steve gently pulled his hands apart.

“You’re going to make it bleed again doing that.” The words were soft, without condemnation, and Alex hated them. He didn’t understand why, but some part of him wanted Steve to react any way except the way he was. Surely he deserved it -- deserved anything other than gentleness and care.

“You still want to.”

The statement caught Alex off-guard. He swallowed thickly around the threatening tears. “Yes.”

“Okay. Tell me what you need from me, buddy. I want to help.”

Alex shrugged. The one thing he needed was exactly what Steve was trying to help him avoid. How could he possibly admit that what he needed most was to hurt himself? It was the only thing that brought the relief he needed. He had only managed to hold off as long as he had by substituting -- digging his knuckles into his thigh hard enough to bruise, snapping a rubber band with enough force to leave welts -- but even then those things had never completely released the pressure, only dulled it enough to keep him from bleeding instead. He knew it was messed up, but that didn’t stop him from needing it.

Steve’s arms tightened around him. “That’s alright. We’ll figure it out. We’re gonna get through this, buddy.”

For the first time since Christmas, Alex wasn’t so sure he believed that.

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

+i. leave on the light

Alex sat at the table, staring blankly at the laptop screen in front of him. He was never going to get caught up at this rate, but he couldn’t help it. Focusing was impossible, and he found himself absently running his thumb over the still-healing cuts on his wrist. It might help him refocus -- it had in the past -- but Steve was already worried enough about him. His guardian tried to hide it, but Alex knew better; he knew Steve was keeping an eye out for anything new. There was an obvious solution to the man’s watchfulness, but moving to a different part of his body would make it less accessible, not to mention the guilt he would feel about hiding it after the conversation they’d had.

Steve wasn’t forcing therapy on him but, in exchange, he wanted Alex to come to him when it got bad. Alex didn’t have to talk, but Steve wanted to help him “ride it out” -- whatever that meant. Alex had accepted the compromise, so he couldn’t very well go back on it without feeling guilty. Not to mention that, deep down, he didn’t actually want to keep doing this. It helped, sure, but that didn’t mean he liked doing it.

But he couldn’t seem to stop, either.

All of his life he had never been in control of anything -- from the death of his parents to MI6 to ending up in Hawaii -- but this he’d always had control over. He couldn’t control what had already happened, but he could control how he coped with it all.

Or so he liked to think. But maybe it was time to admit that he couldn’t handle this on his own anymore. That, despite his best efforts, he still had no control over anything. That he needed help.

And, for the first time in forever, he actually knew where to go to get it.

Before he could change his mind about what he was going to do, he stood up, closed his laptop, and walked out the door, barely remembering to grab his keys on the way out. He debated on taking the bus for a moment but ended up grabbing his bike instead. He used to bike all across London; here to the Palace wouldn’t be all that bad, his phone confirming it to be about a forty-five-minute ride. Besides, he could really use the exercise and the distraction from what he was about to do.

As it turned out, forty-five minutes was still too short of a time, and before Alex knew it, he was staring up at Iolani Palace, hands shaking with anxiety. He wasn’t sure what to do now that he was here. He had only been here once before (excluding the ordeal in December) and he’d been with Steve then. Was he supposed to walk in the front door and ask for Five-0? What if they wouldn’t let him in? What if Steve wasn’t even here? What if --?

“Alex?”

Thoughts interrupted, Alex whipped his head around. Steve and Danny had come out of the side door and were now standing there, staring at him.

“What are you doing here? Are you alright?”

Alex opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. Diverting his gaze to the pavement, he stood in embarrassed silence. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say the entire ride here, but now the words were lodged in his throat, determined to stay there. He didn’t realize Steve had moved closer until he felt the man’s hand on his arm. Looking up from the ground, he found the same caring and concern that was always there. And then the dam broke, tears falling that he hadn’t even realized were building.

“I think I need help.”

Steve pulled him into a tight hug, Alex letting his head fall against Steve’s shoulder as the tears continued. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been standing there before he managed to pull himself together and lean back, wiping away the wet tracks from his cheeks. When he looked up, Steve gave him a small smile, sad but warm, and Danny was nowhere to be seen.

“Let’s get you home; then we’ll talk, okay?”

Alex nodded as he grabbed his bike and turned towards where Steve’s truck was parked.

The ride home was silent, and Alex was grateful for that; it gave him time to calm down and collect his thoughts again. As soon as they arrived home, Steve steered Alex straight to the couch.

“Okay, we’re home. Tell me what you need, Alex.”

“I don’t know -- and I’m not trying to be difficult. I just really don’t know. I just -- I need help. I can’t do this anymore.” Alex was frustrated -- always frustrated -- but as always, Steve was calm and endlessly patient.

“Okay -- that’s alright. Can you explain why you decided you need help?”

Alex didn’t want to do this today any more than he ever did, but he knew he needed to. If he wanted help, he was going to have to open all the dusty boxes tucked into dark corners that he had hid away for so long.

But, maybe for now, opening just one would be enough.

Taking a deep breath, he willed his voice to be steady. “My entire life has been one thing after another that I have had no say in. I need to be in control of something -- anything -- even if it’s only one thing. And the one thing I thought had control over -- well, I’ve realized I really don’t. I hate it. This isn’t what I want at all.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Steve nod before he said, “You want to take back your life.”

Oh. He should have realized it sooner, but now Steve’s words from weeks prior had hit him square in the face: he may not be “working” for MI6 or the CIA anymore, but he was still letting them control him. Steve was right again -- as he so often was. Alex needed to learn how to let go so he could heal. He hadn’t been able to admit it before, but maybe he finally could now. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“I know, and that’s okay. I don’t have the answers either, buddy, but I bet we can find someone who does.”

Alex winced. “A shrink you mean.” He still didn’t like the idea anymore than the first time Steve had suggested it months ago, but...he was probably also right.

Steve huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I know how you feel about that, but a professional is going to be for more help than I could ever be on my own. I’m still not going to force you to, Alex, but they can actually help you get to where you want to be. You can take control again, but you’re going to need someone who knows how to do that to show you.”

“I know. Which is why I want to try it out.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ll...give it a shot.”

Steve pulled Alex into his side. “I’m glad to hear that, buddy. I will still be here every step of the way.”

For the first time since everything spiralled out of control, Alex felt the weight on his shoulders lift just a little.

. . . .

Tags: @diekatimitdemhutohnehut @just-add-butter

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Seventeen

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

September 13th, 1985

Remy laid back on his bed, studying the cracks in the paint on his ceiling. He wanted to sleep, but he was finding it hard without his blanket. He’d had it for as long as he could remember, but his parents had hidden it away somewhere today, and they had refused to give it back. He had begged, he had offered to do anything for its return, but still they refused. And when he was left on his own, he had cried.

He grabbed Bones and snuggled the dog close to his chest. At least he still had Bones, he definitely didn’t want Bones to be taken away, ever ever ever. Next to his blanket, Bones was his biggest sense of comfort. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Sooner or later, it had to work, and then maybe tomorrow he could set out in search of his blanket.

  January 3rd, 2001

Remy had few rules in his life that he would not listen to, and even fewer that he would discard entirely. And rule number one, that he had made when a young kid, ignored time and time again, only to get hurt, time and time again, was “don’t get attached.” Don’t get attached to that toy, Mom and Dad will take it when they think you’ve outgrown it. Don’t get attached to that animal, its owner will eventually have to take it home and Mom and Dad would never let you get a pet of your own. Don’t get attached to people, if you think you’ve made friends with them they’ll crush your very soul when you least expect it and Mom and Dad will say it’s your own fault.

He had been pretty good at following that rule starting in high school, but even then, he only lasted three and a half years with that rule before he had realized he’d thrown it out the window. Emile came along, and he got attached. Worse, he got friendly. He couldn’t imagine what his past self would say to him right now, but he knew it would be something along the lines of being an idiot.

And now, he was breaking another one of those rules, which was “tell no one.” Because here he was, spilling his guts out to Kim, explaining how he had grown attached to Emile and how he didn’t even realize how much the man meant to him until their first therapy appointment and what Emile had said afterwards. “...And I guess it’s a good thing, you know? Most people would say that it’s good I’ve made a friend, and that I want to make more friends, even if it’s just so I can have a safety net. But in my past experiences, friends have only ever tried to hurt me, sooner or later.” Remy scratched the back of his neck. “I still don’t even know why I’m explaining this to you, because one of my other things was that I didn’t want to tell anyone about this. They’d see it as a ‘problem,’ when it’s not. It’s just how I live.”

Kim sat there and nodded as Remy talked, and when his hands fell back into his lap, which they had both realized meant he was done talking, Kim spoke. “Different people certainly do have different ways of living, Remy, but humans are social animals. We need other people around us, who know us, and who can interact with us, if we want to stay stable.”

“Everyone says that, but there are days where I find that so hard to believe. Humans are cruel, we hurt each other for sport, and laugh when someone cries over something, and we’re often forced to hide parts of ourselves we don’t want to be mocked for, because being mocked is a genuine concern,” Remy said. “And, like, I know Emile won’t hurt me. At least, not on purpose. But I don’t know if that’s the case for anyone else, not for sure. I don’t want to put myself out there only to get crushed again.”

“And yet you still want friends?” Kim asked.

Remy nodded with a sigh. “I want to skip past the rocky part where you don’t know much about each other and just know right off the bat if I can trust them or not. But I’m not the best judge of character.”

“And every relationship has that rocky part. From what you’ve told me you and Emile had quite a bit of clashing at the beginning of your friendship?” Kim asked.

“Yeah. Mostly because of me. I’d do something that hurt his feelings, or else I’d just try and push him away so I could be alone, but he didn’t give up. He kept trying to talk to me. And eventually I gave in, and he’s a good guy,” Remy said. He shrugged. “I got lucky. He wasn’t trying to get close to me to exploit me.”

“Is that how you see most people? Out to exploit you?”

Remy shrugged. “I mean, I guess. That’s how it was in the past at least, you know? And people don’t really change all that much, unless they make an active effort. And I never saw any effort from them.”

“You’ve never seen what these potential friends might have been doing by themselves to make them better people, either,” Kim pointed out. “Just because it doesn’t happen when you’re around doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”

“I know that,” Remy sighed. “But it seems...insincere.”

Kim pursed her lips. “You know, Remy, there’s not much else I can say except to tell you that you’re going to have to take those chances in your life. And yes, there are going to be times where you’re going to make mistakes, or misjudge someone, or say something you shouldn’t have. But that’s not a good reason to not take a chance. College students are much more forgiving than high school kids, I’ve found. You might find that more people are like Emile.”

“No one’s like Emile,” Remy said. “He’s a beast unto his own. No mere mortal would be able to get me in this seat.”

Kim laughed, and Remy smirked. “Well, we do crazy things for the people we love. And obviously, it doesn’t have to be romantic love, either.”

Remy agreed quietly. “I’m...I’m coming to terms with that one, at least. That you don’t have to love someone romantically to do kind things for or with them.”

“Did your family not do those things with you?” Kim asked. “Because that outlook is typically not something one has to learn.”

Remy laughed, a harsh and bitter sound. “That’s a good one, my family doing kind things for me. Toby might have, but Mom and Dad? Didn’t remember that I existed half the time.”

Kim frowned. “They neglected you?”

“I mean, I don’t know.” Remy shrugged. “They made sure that at the end of the day I had food, and water, and a place to sleep.”

“But did they hug you? Did they give you reassurance when you were hurt? Did they make sure your emotional needs were met?” Kim asked.

“What...what are emotional needs?” Remy asked. “I don’t...because we weren’t very touchy-feely in my house, but...”

“Emotional needs are things such as feeling safe, feeling loved, feeling special in someone’s eyes,” Kim said. “Physical touch can be one way to express love, but you don’t need to hug someone all the time in order for them to help you meet your emotional needs.”

“Uh...” Remy wracked his brain for something to say that wouldn’t sound bad. “I mean...my brother...Toby would help me with those.”

“But not your parents?” Kim asked.

Remy inwardly cursed himself. “Does it really matter who’s meeting those needs, so long as they’re met?”

“Yes,” Kim said. “Your brother should not have had the responsibility of taking care of you.”

“Well, he didn’t—”

“—Emotionally, Remy. Taking care of someone physically or emotionally should not fall on a siblings shoulders, especially when that sibling is a child themselves. That was your parents’ responsibility. One which, evidently, they neglected.”

Remy swallowed. “It wasn’t that bad...other people have had it way worse than me...”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean that what you experienced wasn’t bad,” Kim gently said.

Remy looked around, and saw their time was almost up. “Uh, quick question before I go...”

“Yes?” Kim asked.

“How do I...explain this to Emile? Like, he asks me about our sessions, and I share whatever I’m comfortable with, but if I...if I don’t want to unload all this trauma on him so I don’t hurt him, but I do want to share the concept...how do I do that?” Remy asked.

“Introduce the subject, either off-hand or outright, depending on what you think Emile would prefer,” Kim said. “Once you give him the basics, allow him to ask his questions. You obviously don't have to answer any of them, but he won’t ask a question that he isn’t comfortable hearing the answer with. He’ll make sure you’re not overstepping his boundaries by stopping you if he gets uncomfortable, and not asking questions that may upset him in the first place.”

“That’s it?” Remy asked dubiously.

“That’s it,” Kim said.

Remy leaned back in his seat. “...Why does that feel so obvious in retrospect?”

“Hindsight is often twenty-twenty vision,” Kim said with a regretful smile.

Remy sighed. “I should have known all this stuff already,” he groaned.

“I won’t say that you shouldn’t have,” Kim said. “But I will say that you didn’t. No one was there to teach you. And while the best time to plant a tree may have been twenty years ago, the second best time is today.”

“What does that even mean?” Remy asked.

“You may have been ‘supposed’ to have learned this already, but you didn’t. So the next best thing to learning it back then is learning it now,” Kim explained.

“Oh. That makes sense, I guess,” Remy said with a shrug.

Kim smiled at him. “One thing at a time, Remy, remember? That’s what we’re working on. Find one thing to focus on and work through that. Don’t let all your worries overwhelm you.”

Remy nodded, they both stood, and Remy walked out to find Emile waiting, as per usual. “Hey, how’d it go?” he asked.

“Pretty well, I think,” Remy said. “I’m realizing some stuff about my family.”

Emile stiffened, but Remy pretended not to notice. “Oh?” Emile asked.

“Yeah,” Remy said as they moved through the parking lot. “Apparently my parents could be considered emotionally neglectful. Which I didn’t even realize was a thing.”

Emile blinked. Remy looked him over. “You okay?” he asked.

“There are days where I would absolutely kill your family in a heartbeat,” Emile replied.

“Don’t kill Toby, at least, he did a lot of the stuff my parents didn’t. And he didn’t have to, he did it because he thought it was the right thing to do,” Remy said.

“It was the right thing to do, but it shouldn’t have been his responsibility,” Emile said. “Nor should it have been yours.”

Remy sighed. “Yeah. I know. But at least I had someone looking out for me, you know?”

“Too small a consolation, in my opinion,” Emile said, practically snarling. “What kind of parents would do that?”

Remy felt nausea build in his stomach. “Hey, listen, they weren’t all bad, Emile.”

“Right,” Emile said, voice dripping sarcasm. “Because people responsible for child neglect must have some redeeming qualities, like kicking puppies or tax evasion!”

“Emile!” Remy exclaimed. “That’s crossing a line!”

Emile was shaking. He ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t...I can’t believe that they would do that to you, Rem. I just can’t. It’s cruel and unusual, and it’s not fair at all to you. You deserve to have parents who love you. Who respect you. Who treat you like a human being.”

“They did treat me like a human being,” Remy said.

Emile silently got in the car.

Remy turned red and got in the passenger seat. “Emile. I haven’t judged you or any of your quirks in a while. Because that crosses a line for you. Well, you talking about my family, and my parents like that crosses a line for me. They weren’t the best, and yeah, I’ve cut contact with them for the time being while I can get my bearings back, but you bashing them isn't going to endear me to you any!”

Emile gripped the steering wheel tight as he started to drive. “Remy...I’m trying real hard to bite my tongue right now. I want to respect your wishes. But what you're saying is making me angry. You shouldn’t have to defend your parents. Because they shouldn’t have to be brought into question over this in the first place. But they are. Just...let me be mad.”

Remy sat there in stunned silence. “I’ll let you be mad, but I disagree with you.”

“I’ll allow that,” Emile said. “So long as you allow me to blow off steam once we get home.”

“Of course,” Remy said.

Emile nodded, and they drove the rest of the way back to their apartment in silence.

[offtopicoverload]

The Forever Breakup

@bubblybabynailpolish 's post on Talia & Jake's friendship hcs got stuck in my head so I wrote a quick one-shot about Jake comforting Talia and MC if they broke up.

~3000 words

“We broke up!” Talia chokes through sobs, her eyes unleashing a waterfall of tears and mascara flowing in watery streams as she does.

Jake stands shell-shocked; a situation he was not prepared for - or even expected to encounter - has shown up at his door, pounding incessantly until he flung it open to find a distraught Talia on the other side.

Without hesitation, he pulls her inside, letting the door fall shut behind them and guides her to the sofa, where she collapses atop it. She wipes at her eyes hurriedly, but it does nothing to stop the onslaught of tears cascading down her cheeks. Jake drops beside her, pulling her into his embrace and soothingly rubbing her back.

She cries into his shoulder for what feels like an eternity to Jake, one that he never wants to experience again, until she quiets enough for Jake to ask the all-important question: “What happened?”

The sobs course through her body again, “I don’t know!” she croaks, trembling in her skin. That’s when Jake takes notice of her clothes: A loose-fitting tank top and shorts even though it’s dark, below freezing, and the middle of January. He detangles himself from her, much to her chagrin, and gathers a thick blanket from across the living room.

He takes a detour into the kitchen, grabbing bottles of water and chocolate biscuits to try and cheer her up when she’s feeling better. He sets them down on the coffee table when he returns, draping the blanket around her shoulders after.

He starts towards the thermostat to turn the heat up and warm her quicker, but her hand delicately grasps at his, drawing his attention down to her. He opens his mouth to explain himself when Talia whispers, her voice already hoarse and strained, “Can you stay? Please?”

Jake does what he’s asked out of concern, love, and fear for his best friend. Talia doesn’t ask him nicely, she doesn’t say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ to him. They’re not formal or polite, they tease each other mercilessly and couldn’t care less about playing nice. But the plea in her voice triggered alarm bells in Jake’s mind, so he does as requested.

She shifts closer, nearly on top of his lap, curling up against him with her head on his chest and the blanket pulled tight around her. Jake doesn’t ask any questions, just combs his fingers through her hair in what he hopes is a comforting manner.

Talia spends what feels like hours shaking and crying under the blanket, Jake’s arms holding her tight until sleep eventually steals her, her shoulders relaxing and sobs quieting. Jake stays with her for a while longer, careful not to disrupt her.

When he’s confident she’s fast asleep, he slowly pulls away, letting her sink into his sofa cushions with a whimper. Jake stands, staring down at her with a broken heart; his best friend has shattered in front of him, and he has no idea how to fix her.

Then the rage starts to boil under his skin, lighting a fire inside him that he can’t extinguish. He grabs his jacket from beside the front door, carefully and quietly pulling the door open and closed before determinedly exiting the building. He pulls his keys from his pocket, unlocks his car, and starts driving in the direction of Talia and Lilac’s building, intent on getting answers and intent on seeing Lilac for who she really is, cruel and stupid for hurting Talia.

---

Jake stands outside Lilac and Talia’s - Lilac’s - flat, fist poised to knock on the door. He takes a few deep breaths, anger still simmering inside of him but lessened from the wildfire it was a short while ago. He raps his knuckles against the wood, jamming his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting or doing something stupid.

Lilac opens the door with red eyes and tear stains on her cheeks, “Um, hi,” she greets half-heartedly, Jake’s resolve crumbling in an instant.

He starts shifting awkwardly on his feet, transferring his weight from foot to foot and pulling his hands from his pockets to wring them before him. “So I heard, er - Talia -” he cuts himself off at the expression of pure pain on Lilac’s face.

Her gaze drops to the ground and her hand holding the door starts gripping it for dear life, her knuckles turning white. “Can we please not do this?” she sounds just as desperate as Talia did, and Jake swears he can hear his heart crack in his chest.

He takes a step closer, reaching to place a hand on Lilac’s shoulder, hoping to steady the slightly swaying woman. But she flinches away from his touch and he lets his hand fall back to his side. His brow furrows in confusion before he asks, “Do what?”

Lilac sniffles, a few tears threatening to spill from eyes from what Jake can tell with her head down, but she doesn’t bother to wipe them away. “The protective big brother thing. I know you just want to help Tals, but now is really not the time.”

He stands still for a moment, sorting through her words carefully. Then he reaches out again, his large hand carefully prying her smaller one from the door, and nudges her inside the flat.

She’s resistant, not moving unless Jake directly guides her, but she enters all the same. They stand beside the closed door for a moment, the silence deafening in Jake’s ears, but he doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask if she’s okay, her shaking hands saying otherwise.

Her hair curtains around her face, preventing Jake from seeing any expression but the haunted and heartbroken one from a few instants ago. Though he doubts there’s much more she’s feeling right now.

Jake glances around the room, finding an uncharacteristic mess. There’s crumpled tissues on the kitchen bar and sofa, a bottle of vodka on the coffee table and whiskey on the kitchen counter. A pile of blankets in the corner has been knocked over, crocheted blankets spread across the living room in heaps, and shattered glass gleams in the hallway.

“Why are you here? You gonna kick my arse for Tals?” Lilac’s jokes, drawing Jake’s gaze. Only there’s no humour, not to Jake at least. Not when there’s shards in the hall and bandaids on her hands and feet.

Jake swallows the lump in his throat at the state of Lilac and Talia, of their flat, of their relationship. “No,” he answers calmly. “Well… maybe that’s why I came. But now I’m worried.” He takes a step closer. Lilac shifts her weight. “What happened?” He takes another step. Lilac slumps at the question and crosses her arms protectively. One more step. Lilac runs her hands up and down her arms. “Talia couldn’t tell me.” One last step, just as Lilac’s shoulders begin to tremble.

Jake pulls her into his arms, letting her sob silently against him in a manner all too familiar, yet simultaneously brand new. He rubs her back until her knees buckle from under her, then he gently lowers her to the ground, her hands grasping at his jacket as tears soak the fabric. “What happened?” he repeats the question for the third time tonight.

Lilac’s shoulders stop heaving as they were, but still shake as she draws in uneven and difficult breaths. “We - we fought. About my family.” Jake grimaces, the small pieces he’s heard from the couple about Lilac’s childhood not triggering a positive reaction. “And I -” her voice cracks and she gasps, no longer able to form any words.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jake shushes, “You don’t have to tell me. It’s personal, I get it,” he continues rubbing her back and offering more reassuring noises and sentiments.

“I said she wasn’t my family if they weren’t,” Lilac whispers the words into Jake’s jacket, her voice uneasy but somehow even, regardless of all the tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I was just angry but I still did. And then she said that if she’s not my family then they sure as hell aren’t. And she’s probably right, it’s just hard. But then - then I told her she doesn’t know me or my life, she has no say. I acted like she’s not my life, Jake,” her voice is desperate again, her hands fisting in his coat.

“She is, she so is. She’s everything and she was just trying to help and I wouldn’t let her, but then she said she might as well leave and I said okay fine, even though I didn’t want her to, and then she left and I didn’t stop her, why didn’t I stop her?” she gasps, her breath hitching as she tries to catch it. “And I can’t fix it and now she’s gone and oh my God,” she heaves in a breath after her rambling with a splintered voice, tears trailing down her face again as she stares at Jake’s shirt.

Then her eyes fly up to his, meeting them for what feels like the first time tonight, “Is she okay?!” she grabs his forearms, tugging him forward and staring into his eyes desperately, searching for something.

He nods quickly, “She’s fine, she’s at my flat,” he rushes. Lilac lets go immediately, falling back to sit on her heels. “Well, she’s not okay but she’s safe. She was asleep when I left.” Lilac nods stiffly, her hands clenching at his words.

Jake sees a bandage on her hand and carefully reaches out, eager for a change in topic. He has a hard time with heartbreak, but cuts and bruises he can handle, “What happened to your hands?”

Lilac shakes her head, slowly pulling her hand back to herself, “I just - broke a glass. I’m fine,” she answers quietly.

“How’d you break it?” he asks, just as quiet, and lets his hand land on her shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze.

“I threw it.” Her body’s still, voice hesitant while her eyes dig into her lap.

Jake’s taken aback by the answer, but does his best not to show his surprise at her admission to a violent outburst, “Why’d you throw it?”

“She left,” Lilac whispers, her only response for a long moment.

Then she swallows harshly, “I was drinking but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t stop and I hate myself and I was so mad and I threw it. And it hit the wall and it shattered, and I felt bad. She liked that glass and I broke it because I suck. So I tried to pick it up but I couldn’t find the broom because she always moves it ‘cause I knock it over, so I tried to use my hands but then it cut me and I kept stepping on it and I gave up and just drank some more. And it wasn’t enough, but I didn’t want to break any more of her glasses.”

Jake nods along, carefully reaching out and taking hold of her hand. He inspects her for any unbandaged cuts, and, when none are found, squeezes her hand, “Are you bleeding anywhere?”

She shakes her head, “Not anymore.”

He nods cautiously, glancing back around the room. He can still see the light bouncing off the shards scattered across the room, but most of the mess is out of his line of sight. He releases her hand and stands, gently patting her head as he passes.

He makes his way to the closet at the opening of a separate hallway, pulling it open to find a broom and dustpan inside. He’s seen Talia shove it in there countless times, always muttering about Lilac forgetting where it goes. He pulls it out and shuts the door, turning to the splintered glass on the hardwood. He meticulously sweeps it up, careful to get every last sparkling fragment.

When he’s done he walks to the kitchen, dumping the glass in the bin before returning the broom to the closet. Then he carefully scoops the tissues from the counter into the bin, repeating the exercise in the living room, too. He places the bottles of alcohol next to the others by the fridge, screwing the caps on tight. He tugs the fridge door open in search of water, finding a few bottles in the door.

His careful footsteps lead him back to a slumped Lilac that hasn’t moved since he left her, hands gripping one another tightly as she stares at the dark wood beneath her with dull eyes. He sits beside her, folding his legs in front of him, and offers an open bottle.

She only takes it when he prys her fingers apart and wraps them around it. She takes careful sips, never once meeting Jake’s concerned gaze, and he’s almost grateful for it. Almost grateful that he doesn’t have to see any more pain tonight.

His fingers start to skate along her spine, “Feeling any better?”

She laughs a horrid, broken, crumbling laugh, “No. No, I’m not, Jake, and I don’t -” her voice cracks before returning, barely audible, “I don’t know if I ever will at this point.”

He stops his skating, “Why not?”

“I broke it and I can’t fix it,” she sniffles.

“You can buy another glass,” he suggests hesitantly.

She chuckles that heart-shattering chuckle again, “I didn’t mean the glass. I meant us. I can’t go back, that’s forever.”

“Right,” he mumbles sheepishly. “Maybe you can though?” he tries an optimistic outlook, one that Lilac isn’t a fan of.

“No. She left because I made her. That makes it real and permanent and forever. It’s a Forever Breakup, Jake.”

Jake asks the dumbest question he can think of before he can even stop himself, “Do you want it to be forever?”

“Of course not,” she spits. “Of course not,” she repeats, more controlled now, “But I can’t fix it; she left.”

Jake leans into the optimism, the romantic inside of him getting the better of him, “Maybe if you try right now? Sooner rather than later, you know?”

There’s that crushing tremble of vocal cords again, but no words follow. Lilac just shrugs, defeated and hopeless, taking a chug from the water bottle she’s been slowly tracing with a nail.

A buzzing sounds from the kitchen, recognized by Jake as his own ringtone. He stumbles to his feet, rushing over to grab his phone from the counter. Talia’s contact is on display, the vibrations nearly sending the device crashing to the ground.

He answers, cautiously stepping into the far hallway and towards the washroom, “Hello?” he almost whispers.

“Where are you?” Talia’s voice sounds panicked, her breathing quick.

“I, um, I’m sorry, I came to your flat. I’m with Lilac.” Jake fidgets with his jacket’s zipper, nerves starting to overwhelm him.

“Oh.” The other line is quiet for a while, only staggered breathing flowing from the speaker. “Is - is she okay?”

Jake lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, “Not really, honestly. She broke a glass you liked and I think she feels really bad about.”

“Okay.” She’s reflective, voice turning distant. “Just a glass?”

“Yeah,” Jake confirms. Then he pauses, brow furrowing, “Does she usually break stuff?”

“No. Well, kinda. She dropped a mirror on accident once. A mug, too, but she got really worked up about it.”

Jake can't help the smile from splitting his lips at the ease of Talia’s voice, her typical attitude falling back into place. “Was it your mug?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?” Talia asks warily.

Jake grins wider, “No reason,” he attempts to breeze past it, maybe annoy her along the way.

“Whatever,” Talia huffs.

Jake chuckles a little, glancing back to Lilac, finding her legs now stretched before her as she leans forward, head still drooped. Jake’s laughter falls away at the sight.

He takes a deep breath before proposing a thought that’s rattled around his head since he found the flat in chaos, “Maybe you guys should talk. Work through things sooner than later?” he repeats that phrase again, hoping Talia might accept it more than Lilac.

“You think we could?” Talia’s cautiously hopeful on the other end of the line, a clattering sound that Jake can only hope isn’t the destruction of one of his own glasses.

“Yeah,” Jake answers softly, “I mean, I believe in you guys. One argument doesn’t have to wreck everything.”

Talia goes quiet again, leaving Jake to shift nervously. He hasn’t forgotten Lilac’s insistence that they’re over or Talia’s unabashed heartbreak, but he tries to push past the anxiety slowly flooding his chest, determined to fix this and prove they’re not as fragile as a glass. A sigh heaves in Jake’s ear, “Fine. I’ll come over, but you better stay. I need a place to crash if this doesn’t work.”

Jake smiles softly, “Deal. But only in the car. This is your business and I’m not getting any more involved,” he warns.

“Yeah, okay,” Talia concedes, the sound of keys jingling and a door shutting stretching Jake’s smile wider, his eyes glancing back to Lilac once more, this time finding her leaning against the kitchen counter.

---

A knock echoes through the flat. Lilac’s eyes fly up in a panic from the kitchen, finding Jake’s calm ones already staring back from the living room. He gives her a gentle smile and an encouraging nod.

Jake’s only taken a few steps towards the door when it slowly opens, Talia stepping in the room with her hair now tied back and one of Jake’s jackets - a leather one she bought him, actually - falling from her shoulders. She shuffles inside, keeping her eyes on Jake to avoid the grey ones staring in shock at her profile.

Jake smiles reassuringly at her too, carefully but quickly making his way to the door. He pats Talia’s shoulder as he steps outside and closes the door behind him. But he’s slow enough to hear a nervous ‘hi’ and a watery ‘hey.’

He walks out of the building and uses the flashlight on his phone to find his car, unlocking it with the click of his keys. Slipping into the driver’s seat with a sigh, he lets his head fall back to the headrest. His eyelids start to feel heavy, being awake in the late hours of the night a rare occasion for him.

His phone buzzes, jolting him awake. He scrambles to find it, pulling it from his jacket pocket and finding a large 2:43 on his lock screen. A text notification is just below it, with Talia’s name at the top.

He smiles down at the screen, sticking his key in the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot. He navigates back to his own flat in low light from street lamps, watching the few people still awake go about their late nights and early mornings.

When Jake slumps into his bed, yanking the covers up to his chin with a contented sigh a half hour later, he can’t help but smile at the two words that had greeted him on his phone screen, relishing in the abolishment of The Forever Breakup: ‘we’re okay.’