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captain-emmajones · 4 years

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let the cat out of the bag

Set during the missing year and expands until somewhere during season 3 B.

Pirates don’t have pets. Hell, Captain Hook -- terror of the High Seas -- does not have pets. So what happens when a devilish black kitten jumps aboard the Jolly Roger once Hook has taken it back from Blackbeard?

I asked @carpedzem what she would like to read, and this is what she came up with. Hopefully it will make you, and others, happy! (Oh, and all mistakes are mine!)

Fluff - 2000 words - Ao3

Tagging some friends who might enjoy this: @itsfabianadocarmo @killiansprincss @thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @snowbellewells @elizabeethan

Happy Sunday and happy reading!!

At first, he believes they’re rats. He isn’t pleased about it.

“Mr Smee, I seem to recall I asked you to make sure there weren't any living creatures aboard this ship.”

He isn’t quite sure why, but Smee flushes a bright pink and starts stammering.

“...And I did, Captain, I did b-but --”

Killian Jones is a man of many things, but one of patience he isn’t.

“-- but what, Mr Smee? I don’t think it is that arduous to take care of such matters.” His words come out like sharp, drawn blades and threaten to slash his first mate’s round cheeks. “But if it is, I’ll make sure to ease you of this task.”

And he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth for good measure.

“I -- I will do everything I can, Captain.”

A smirk. “Let’s just hope that is enough, Mr Smee.”

But the thing is, it doesn’t bloody stop. The vermin keeps pestering him.

Hook wakes up to open doors, cannot stroll down the deck of the Jolly Roger without seeing a shadow run along with him, until, until --

“Now, what are you doing here?”

The troublemaker stands on top of his bed, on all fours, green eyes sparkling in the orange light of this late afternoon and seems quite ready to roar at his very face.

A petulant meow answers him.

“MISTER SMEE.”

He is furious, of course. Smee, however, thinks -- maybe, all things considered -- the plank isn’t so bad.

“I can explain every-everything, Captain…”

“I want none of your explanations, Mr Smee. I want you to get rid of this .”

A very indignant meow echoes on the ship.

“It must have gotten on the ship when we took it back from Blackbeard, Captain, and I hadn’t noticed for a while but then I could hardly throw him in the waters…”

A deep, guttural groan.

“As soon as we reach port, this thing is out of my ship. Have I made myself clear, Mr Smee?”

“A-abundantly clear, Captain.”

When he goes back to his cabin that night, stomach full and mind lulled by rhum, he doesn’t exactly expect to see the small nuisance lying comfortably on his bed, very much at ease indeed.

The thing is staring at him with its big, green eyes, and Hook frowns.

“Those are my quarters. Get out.”

Another impish meow answers him. If it could, Hook is convinced it would raise an eyebrow at him.

Another sigh of discontent. “I said get out of my bed. Now.” And as he stretches his hand to push the kitten out-of-the-way, it simply raises his head and meets its palm in approval.

Hook’s eyes widen. “Do you think I’m that easily charmed?” And as if to assert that yes, most absolutely, he is that easily charmed, the small cat purrs against his hand and licks his skin.

And Hook suddenly wonders why the hell he is letting this happen.

Clearing his throat, his hand closes over the small, black body and drops it onto the floor.

“There, and do not come to bother me anymore.”

A meow echoes in the night.

He wakes up to something fluffy tingling against his cheek and that alone rings an alarm in his head and causes his eyes to shoot open.

“What the hell…” but the end of his sentence dies as the small vermin stares at him, and seems to s m i l e at him.

Hook groans. “Get out of here,” he mumbles, and pushes the kitten to the side.

And he does not want to ponder over how gently he actually urged the cat to disappear nor does he want to think about the little, warm bubble swelling comfortably inside his chest (next to the big bubble of annoyance, of course).

The cat has been on the ship with them for two weeks when they finally reach port and can get rid of him. In the meantime, he has settled his quarters in Hook’s room.

“I see the kitten is quite fond of you, Captain?”

“Do you want to find out if the bloody plank is fond of you, Mr Smee?”

“N-no, of course, Captain, no.”

To prevent him from sleeping in his bed, Hook settled an old bed cover in the farthest corner of his room -- since the bloody thing won’t be kept out of it anyway.

“There, and don’t you move, you devil.”

He starts to call it that , in his head, the kitten: devil. It suits him well. And it makes it sound more pirate-worthy than kitten anyway.

He doesn’t utter the words aloud. Would rather walk the bloody plank himself. Pirates don’t have pets.

“Since I can’t trust you to take care of vermines on this ship, I’ll get rid of the bloody thing myself.”

And as his crew pillages and plunders a nearby village, Hook ventures out of his ship, the little devil gesticulating down in his satchel.

He isn’t even jealous of the lost opportunity. He hasn’t felt like pillaging and plundering in a while, now. Not since he left Storybrooke, not since the red-headed mermaid visited him and he --

Hook sighs and sits down, near the port, on a bench. His legs feel heavy as stone. He takes out of his satchel his flask of rum, and the little devil, and puts both of them down next to him.

“Don’t move,” he hisses but the small thing instead decides to stretch at his leisure in front of his nose.

“You’re one for mutiny, aren’t you?”

A cheerful meow answers him. And Hook’s lips curve up, just the slightest bit, before he catches himself and frowns furiously.

“I’m going to leave you here, you understand that?”

But the bloody thing apparently cares little for his words, and proceeds instead to climb up his lap and settles himself comfortably against Hook’s stomach.

It is his stomach’s turn to do a weird leaping thing then, as he squares his jaws and bites the interior of his mouth.

There’s been so much loss, hasn’t it? Perhaps he is allowed a little company. Perhaps the journey doesn’t have to be this hard, perhaps he does not have to suffer until the ends of time.

“You don’t want to leave me, do you?”

Other, human, green eyes linger behind Killian’s eyelids, savagely tear his heart apart, because she left.

A meow echoes in the night, and Hook’s fingers reluctantly find the warm, black fur and sieve through it.

“You are one bloody hell of a devil, you know that?”

Pirates may not have pets, but lonely souls do need company, don’t they?

When Hook strides back to the ship that night, and frees the small thing on the lower deck, Smee, at least, has the decency of keeping his mouth shut.

“Make one comment, Mr Smee, and you walk the bloody plank.”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

Sharing his quarters has a lot of cons, if you’d ask Hook.

Such as cleaning his clothes of the devil’s hair, or making sure the small thing has enough to eat and drink, or waking up to it stretched across his bloody face.

But mostly, Hook does think the company is enjoyable. His partner does not speak, purrs at best, and seems to have some supernatural inkling for knowing when his Captain is feeling a bit...aloof, to put it like that.

Hook’s convinced the bloody thing is actually magic, but that he won’t ever tell no living soul.

When he gives up the Jolly Roger, Hook finds two green eyes staring at him.

“I cannot take you with me to Emma, you understand? I don’t even know if animals survive portals.”

A meow answers him, and for the first time Hook thinks it is full of grief.

Something stings, in Hook’s chest, as he waves goodbye to his crew and drops the cat into Smee’s arms.

“I’ll take care of him, Captain.”

“I know you will.”

And when Hook turns back, walks away, he ignores as well as he can this strange, new kind of itching rattling his insides.

Back in Storybrooke, Hook figures just to what extent Mr Smee is not a man for subtlety.

He basically throws the damn demon into his arms, on the docks, where everyone can bloody see them.

“What the hell are you doing, Mr Smee?”

Hook does not acknowledge the joy that swirls around his legs as the small thing purrs against him.

“Giving you back what is yours. I can’t take it any longer, he is insufferable.”

And Hook is ready to attack right back, as the demon nibbles his fingers with a cheerful fervor, but then the worst happens.

Emma.

Emma is striding towards him, with Henry, and he has a bloody kitten in his arms.

“Didn’t know you were one to have pets…” she attacks right then, Smee long gone, and the small devil very much settled in the crook of his arm.

Hook gulps down, almost frozen. Later, he’ll wonder why he did not put him down. That would have saved him some embarrassment.

“It’s not what you think, Swan.”

“Isn’t it?” she smirks, and then -- because things can always get worse -- she bends down towards the little devil and scratches between his ears.

But then she is smiling that very rare smile and Hook starts to think perhaps the little devil isn’t such a nuisance anymore.

“What’s his name?” she asks, and the things purrs , goddamn purrs under her touch, and Hook feels utterly betrayed.

“It doesn’t have a name,” he echoes right back, mock-indignant.

She raises her eyes towards him, quirks one eyebrow. It has a terrible effect on Hook’s heart rate.

“Come on, don’t lie. All pets have names.”

“No. Not this one. Actually, it’s not a pet.”

“Oh yeah, then what is it?”

The devil purrs.

“It's merely an animal that got lost on my ship during the missing year, is all.”

Emma’s smirking, again. And Hook isn’t blushing.

“Let's call you Sparrow, then.”

Something revolts inside Hook. It isn’t his name.

“Sparrow? And why the bloody hell is that?”

“Because Captain Jack Sparrow” echoes Henry on reaching them, giving up his video game to devote his attention to the small cat.

Bloody hell.

As things turn out, Emma never lets him live it down and everyone in Storybrooke knows Captain Hook’s cat, Sparrow, lives with him at Granny’s.

“I have a no-pet-policy, Hook, but for your pretty eyes I’ll make an exception.”

Hook swallows down a list of elaborate insults and plasters a smile on his face. “Why, thank you, Granny.”

One night, however, the bloody thing isn’t to be found in his room and Captain Hook does not worry about cats but he does stare out his window impatiently, trying to get a glimpse of a black furry tail -- not that he’d admit it.

But then something quite unlikely happens. Someone knocks on the door while he’s showering.

A towel around his hips, Hook opens to find Emma Swan in her pajamas, Sparrow comfortable between her arms.

If Hook’s heart skips multiple beats, it does please him to see Emma’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush as she takes in his state of undress.

“I’m-- I’m…” she begins, has a very hard time coming up with words, it seems, and then exhales sharply: “I found your cat in my room. Under my bed. Which is why it took me so long to find him, actually.”

Hook smirks. “That’s a plausible excuse for visiting me at night, Swan, but next time don’t stand on ceremony.”

She turns even redder, if that is possible, and that sight alone is priceless.

“Right,” she begins, smiling, “There you go.” And she gently drops the little devil between his arms, her touch sending electric trails all over his skin.

Hook gulps down as he notices how close they’ve gotten and he is tempted to bend down but that would be too much, wouldn’t it?

Instead he smiles, swallows down, and watches as she gazes back and forth between his eyes and his lips.

“Thank you, Swan,” he finally exhales and he watches as she seems to come to her senses, bites her lips and backs away.

“No problem. ‘Night, Hook.”

“Goodnight, Emma.”

When he closes the door behind him, Sparrow is standing on his bed, green eyes open.

“I’ll admit that was quite a good idea, thank you mate.”

A meow of contentment answers him, as if to say: but you are most welcome.

#cs ff #cs fanfics #captain swan #amy writes #my stuff #this is ridiculous but hopefully the good kind

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katierosefun · 4 years

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author interview tag game

thank you for the tag, @pandora15! <3

Name: caroline

Fandoms: mostly the clone wars, but i also have some marvel stuff, and waaay back in the day, i wrote some doctor who and merlin stuff!

Where you post: primarily on ao3! i mostly just write on tumblr when i’m accepting prompts from like...ask games or something.

Most Popular Oneshot: real

Most Popular Multichap: to these memories (this fic only recently hit 1k kudos, and my heart?? w h a t)

Favorite Story You’ve Written: def. to these memories because a) longest fic i’ve ever written, and b) oh, the hours i logged into writing this fic, and c) oh, the outlining that went into this fic...i’m very proud of myself for completing the fic, and of course, i credit this to everyone who showed their lovely support for the story. :’)

Fic You Were Nervous to Post: uhhh definitely too far just because it’s...rather personal. i sometimes say that there’ll be a scene or two or just straight up a line or two that’s plucked out of my real life, and i think it’s inevitable for writers of any kind, including fic writers, to isolate their real lives completely from whatever they’re writing, and?? this fic is probably the most personal for me because of that. i remember kinda hem-hawwing about posting it, because i was like whoa, maybe this is a little too personal? but then i steeled myself and was like, “okay, well, would this have lifted my spirits when i needed a story like this??” and then decided to post it.

How you choose your titles: i def. toss and turn between titles! there’s a few fics of mine that are straight-up song lyrics (no surprise there), but to my surprise (as i was looking through my catalogue of fics just now), i realize that a lot of my fics are usually just words or two about what i think might have been extremely important to the story. (or captures the overall tone/theme of the story, anyways.)

Do you outline? for multi-chapter fics and relatively long one-shots with lots of moving parts, i’ll outline. but for shorter one-shots and prompts, i’ll usually just stick with the image that compelled me to write the prompt/one-shot in the first place! (and then kinda write around that.)

Complete: uhhhhh, i’m gonna answer relatively for all my clone wars fics, because in total, i have 74 completed fics. (make that...75, hopefully in a few minutes or hours!) but out of clone wars fics, i have 46 completed fics! (and again, hopefully 47 in a little while.) a part of me is lowkey hoping that i’ll get up to 100 total fics by the end of this year. a part of me highly doubts it, but given how much i was able to write over summer break, i’m...intruiged if i wind up somehow writing another twenty or so fics by the end of this year. (asfsf my wip list is long enough to fill in for another twenty fics. caroline finish all your wips challenge.)

In Progress: okay, so officially, time, wondrous time is in progress and online. but in terms of the works in progress on my laptop...i have...*mutters, counting* fourteen official wips. (ten of them are one-shots, and the other four are longform fics. one of them, i’m hoping to release next week (!!!), and another, i’m hoping to release hopefully around mid-december. uhhh so fingers crossed??)

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: oops, i guess i kinda already answered that question, but eh, might as well! the one coming out next week (hopefully!! caroline get your shit together challenge!!) is titled most ardently, and it’s an obitine au based off pride & prejudice because i cannot and will not shut up about obitine being the period drama ship out of star wars okay--

and then the other longform fic that is very overdue is called getting lost in a big galaxy, which is a fix-it of sorts taking place after season 5. anakin’s gone missing, and obi-wan winds up going on a galaxy-ride road trip with ahsoka (who, remember, has left the order) to find their idiot. this is honestly my excuse to just write more obi-wan and ahsoka content. hopefully, that’ll be posted in december!! (despite the fact i...originally meant to post it in august oOps.)

and then there’s this other longform fic which...might be coming in early 2021 called red, underlined, which is essentially...uh. everyone’s a stressed out law-school student, and anakin might have accidentally murdered professor palpatine, and now anakin, obi-wan, ahsoka, padme, and rex are all trying to find out what the hell to do with themselves because they’re all in on it. (def. influenced by how to get away with murder except without the criminal justice professor to lead them through the ropes. so more chaos. kind of a dark comedy vibe, if anything else? anakin no is major theme in this one. uh, i mean, maybe anakin was justified in murdering creep palpatine because our gang’s gonna find out what was going on in the background, but either way! lots of “holy shit are we good people are we bad people what are we doing”. lots of questions about morality! ethics! law school student study nights with anakin sprawled out on the floor and obi-wan wearing glasses (which he pushes up the bridge of his nose whenever he’s about to lecture anakin that no, that’s not how that statute works, dumbass) and ahsoka just bringing snacks and rex catching paper airplanes and padme being the one to supply everyone with very neat flashcards. this fic is gonna be an absolute beheamoth, and i’m estimating about 45 chapters? like...130K+ words? help? yeah idk either this really blew up in my head

and then...this stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing job, which is...office x tcw au. only not? it’s very, very loosely based off the office, but not really. obi-wan moves in as a new manager of a company, and we’ve got anakin being like “lol new guy i’m gonna mess with him”, and ahsoka being the one who’s both like “please don’t mess with our new boss” but also being like “actually, wait, lemme help”, rex being in hr and being like “i don’t get paid enough for this”. (also there’s some parts that are written like actual interviews like you would find in the office, so there’s this one bit where uhhh

Obi-Wan flicks his eyes to the cameras in silent question before turning back to Ahsoka. “Well, if you need to call maintenance, then I hardly think you need my permission—”

“Thanks!” Ahsoka says quickly, and she’s about to disappear from the doorway when Obi-Wan stands up.

“Wait, Ahsoka, what exactly—”

Ahsoka re-appears at the doorway. “Oh, right,” she says. “Um—maybe just stay away from the men’s bathroom for a little bit.” She pauses.

“Actually, just stay away from them for the rest of the day.” She hovers by the door for a minute longer, and then she adds quickly, “And maybe also avoid the breakroom. Everything’s fine!”

And with a perfectly not-fine smile, Ahsoka disappears from the doorway.

Obi-Wan stares at where Ahsoka was just a moment ago, and the he turns to the cameras in disbelief. “Did she just—” Unable to finish his own sentence, Obi-Wan starts out the door. “Ahsoka?”

The camera follows Obi-Wan out of the conference room and into the breakroom. There are only muffled shouts—Anakin’s shouts, and then Rex’s, and then Ahsoka’s frantic “no, sorry, everything’s fine!”, and then Obi-Wan’s loud, “What is going on in here?”

surprise y’all just got a snippet i’m sorry can you tell i’m weirdly into this au?? i need to rewrite some scenes but uh there you go

Prompts: for the most part, yes! i have some stuff in my faq about prompts that i’ll probably turn down (mostly anything that’s...above a certain rating/really, realy heavy themes that i just don’t think i can tackle with justice or with enough education on my end). i can be a little slow with prompts, but i’ll get to all of them in time!

Upcoming Work You’re Most Excited About: uhhhh i have too many that i’m excited about. literally i can write a mini essay on every single one of the fics i’m working on? but uhhh i guess since i already talked about all my major longform fics above (asdfasdfsd didn’t mean to do that, i’m so sorry for everyone who had to scroll past that word-vomit), i guess the one i’m most excited about releasing is the post season 7 obi-wan-and-ahsoka-finally-talk-about-how-they-miss-each-other-also-sorry-for-fighting-with-you-i-know-you-were-just-trying-your-best fic. (not a whole ton of spoilers for this one, but uh. i’m looking at some of these scenes and making frustrated sounds because there’s this one particular instance where i’m like, ahsoka. ahsoka just talk to him just ta lk to him but then lol no talking :)) also maybe some h/c? lowkey sickfic might be involved in this somehow? might have accidentally served as a precursor to to these memories? help? this fic just ballooned. caroline keep your ideas contained challenge!)

No Pressure Tags: @lightasthesun @soplantyourownflowers @ohhellokenobiand anyone else who wants to join!

#tag game #thank you!!#caroline.....control your wips challenge #also i am so sorry this got sO long and SO OUT OF HAND #also....lol caroline stop writing so many longform fic challenge #i really love writing one-shots #i really really love writing one shots #but like also. also there's a part of me that's like 'im gonna hyperfixate on this au sO HARD'#thankfully tho i think those are all the longform wips #there's also that one time travel fix it longform fic i have in the back of my head....#but lol i still haven't outlined it yet

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technoturian · 3 years

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So after dipping my toe in the Pedro Pascal stan side of tumblr I decided to give his Netflix movies a try. Yesterday was Prospect which I *loved* and today was Triple Frontier which was... possibly the worst movie I’ve seen in the last couple of years.

Spoilers under the tag but honestly... Just don’t watch this movie. If you’re a fan of one of the cute men in it then just search the internet for gifs, I promise you you will get more out of that than you will out of this movie. Ranting below, you’ve been warned.

I have to commend the Pedro fans for their fanon version of his character in this film, as they pretty much were forced to invent him from whole cloth because basically none of that is in the text. And that’s because he doesn’t have a character. None of them have characters! None of them have arcs! The plot doesn’t even have an arc! The movie ended in the biggest shrug I’ve ever seen. They didn’t fail, they didn’t succeed, it was just kind of... well that happened.

Every time I thought, “Okay, I see where this narrative is going...” It just... didn’t. It didn’t go anywhere. The main thrust of the movie was done 30 minutes in and then the rest of the movie was them walking around killing people. Now, it could have been about that, about that they were killing civilians and growing increasingly more cruel and emotionless in their actions, but that was not reflected in the resolution. Nothing that happened in the movie was concluded in a way that made sense. It just was a collection of bad things that happened that then stopped eventually. What about the characters and their families who at the start of the film were stated would be hunted to the ends of the earth by ALL THE CARTELS!! (and other unspecified Bad Criminal People) and at the end just kind of shrug off the fact that they have no money to disappear with? Are Santiago’s fake passports supposed to fix that? Or maybe they deserve that because of the ~horrible things they did~ but then why such a light-hearted, optimistic-ish ending note where they all cheerfully say goodbye? What is the message here?

It was like two producers came together, one said he wanted to make an indie film that was a blunt drama on the horrors of war and dehumanization of the American soldier and a scathing, unflinching indictment of the military industrial complex, and the other one said he wanted to make a shoot-em-up heist movie with big budget actors and lots of explosive action and they were like...

...and mushed them together without any attempt to make a cohesive and narratively satisfying story. It fails at both of these aspects by committing to neither. I saw only the briefest hints of any kind of thematic thread that was so incompetently conveyed that it might as well have never existed. I can’t understand how this movie has such high approval from critics??? What did you like here, was it all of the monologues about how war takes and takes and doesn’t pay well enough? Because if you like that, there was a lot of that. It doesn’t actually go anywhere but it’s there and gee, it’s a thinker, huh, war is bad actually. Groundbreaking.

And this is not an indictment on the actors at all (except for Ben Affl*ck, he can choke). They were honestly working so hard, I could see that, and it made me angrier than if they’d phoned it in. I honestly cannot imagine how they got all of these big actors in this movie and gave them absolutely nothing to work with!

Every one of these characters save Santiago had the same ~arc~, “I don’t like what being a soldier did to me except I’m super loyal so I’m just going to do this one last job oh crap everything is terrible better turn on my murder training...” Which is like... Yeah that happens when you join the military, it’s awful, sure. “War is hell” and all that. But just pointing that out doesn’t make these successful, rounded characters or make this a good movie. I again applaud fans that found any value in these characters, it honestly feels like a case of “I like this actor so much that he deserves a lot better than this, let me invent an alternate reality where he actually had substance”. I can’t feel bad for them too much because I guess, I hope they had fun filming it on location and made a lot of that Netflix money?

As an exercise I tried to think of a single line in this movie that, if shifted from one character to another, would have changed... anything. If it would’ve effected their character at all. If it would’ve felt like it didn’t fit, like, “well HE wouldn’t say THAT”. I couldn’t think of one. They were all completely interchangeable. They all switch from being guilty about killing people to not really caring to straight up going murder-happy depending on the scene, excusing their actions and condemning them. ~Oho, but don’t you see, that’s the duality of the soldier, the hero and the villain~ shut up, it’s bad narrative if you can’t even figure out what a character’s motivations and baseline personality are.

Literally the only person I saw any slight arc from was Santiago, who basically got all of his plot threads neatly tied up by the halfway point and then was just a shell of regret like the other characters. From then on the only person with any sort of arc potential was Tom, because he was the first to get greedy and he was the one to shoot first and I thought “Okay cool, so he’s going to turn on them or something as the money dwindles because he’s going to put his family first and they’re really going to show how far they’ve fallen” and nope he’s dead, of course he’s dead, that’s the end of the only character that seemed like he MIGHT be going anywhere (not that I cared because Ben Affl*ck can choke). Even the romance arc didn’t go anywhere! It literally stops halfway through the movie just like everything else???? This movie feels like they lost the second half of the script days before filming and they were like, “Um, and, um, lots of... climbing the Andes, and, um, this Andes thing is going to be very long and so that’ll pad it out and, um??? War is bad, look what they make you do, look what they make you give etcetera etcetera? Then, uh, action driving scene, uh, yeah. There we go, finished.”

I honestly just can’t believe I sat through a movie with Ben Affl*ck, Charlie Hunn*m’s absolute travesty of an American accent, and 70s-80s dad rock music just because two hot Star Wars boys were in it. Maybe the real message of the movie is the hot boys we looked at along the way.

* And because it didn’t fit anywhere else, just a shoutout to this particular part: William’s character introduction being a recruitment speech that starts with “My PTSD is so bad I have violent blackouts” and somehow with a scene cut manages to circle back around to “So anyway kids stay in the Army it’s the best and you’re all patriots” is the most heinous thing that completely undermines A, his place as the moral center/voice of reason of the film and B, any anti-military message the movie might be vaguely attempting. I just keep remembering that compilation video of young, desperately sad military recruits saying “f*ck you” and “you lied” to their recruiter and thinking, “This guy has given this speech HUNDREDS of times??”

#Triple Frontier #Anti Triple Frontier #Anti Ben Affleck #Anti Charlie Hunnam #gif #Pedro Pascal

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pro-bee · 4 years

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into your arms i fall

Rating: G

Characters: Ziva David/Tony DiNozzo

Spoilers: None (In my head this is set in an AU-season 10 or season 11 where they let us have nice things, but could take place anytime post-season 4, really.) Totally canon divergent.

Word Count: 1200

Genre: Total unadulterated domestic fluff

Summary: Everything is the same until it isn't anymore.

A/N: Short one-shot inspired by @evanglienlilly and this post. (Also tagging @coffeedepablo because I’m mean.)

Happy new Year everyone! Have fun, stay safe, and hope 2020 brings you peace and love!

Can also be found here

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She sits cross-legged on the floor, back against the side of the bed, mind racing a mile a minute. She is here, but she is not really here.

Wearing his old OSU sweater like a cocoon, swallowed up whole in its tattered cotton embrace, she fixates on a knot in the hardwood in front of her, mesmerized by the swirls and grateful for a distraction on right now.

“You know, traditionally one sits on the bed, not next to it.”

It takes a second for his voice to register, to bring her out of her daze, until she finally looks up at him and smiles halfheartedly. She’s far too preoccupied to answer him, but his presence is comforting. (Is always comforting.) Instead of giving her a hand to get up, he sits down next her, mirroring her own stance.

“I was wondering where that shirt went. Should’ve known you were hoarding it.”

“Mmm, finders keepers, is that not what you always say?”

It is a good sign that she is engaging with him. Even if it’s half-assed. She’s been on auto-pilot since this morning, a tad quieter than usual to outsiders, but he can tell she’s been circling outer space all day.

Her phone is on the floor in front of her, the numbers on the screen counting down. The pixels forecast the minutes rolling into seconds, hurtling them into oblivion.

They sit in silence for the final stretch, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Finally, the sound of the alarm brings them back down to earth, and they catch each other’s eyes, willing themselves to take action.

“Well, here goes nothing, right?”

She takes a deep breath. He keeps his eyes trained on her.

“You want me to…?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll go.”

She pushes herself up off the floor and heads into the bathroom, while he remains firmly planted on the floor, rapping his fingertips on the rug underneath him in an attempt to pass the time.

As though he cannot be alone for twenty whole seconds.

He watches from his stoop as she reappears in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, completely entranced.

“It’s positive.”

She finally looks up from the stick in her hands to meet his gaze.

“I’m pregnant.”

This prompts him get up. (He feels like this is a conversation that definitely needs to happen while standing up.) His face remains stoic. It drives her crazy, because he is always her guiding light and more than anything she needs to understand what to think in this very instant.

“How do you feel about that?”

So much for that. She has to gather herself.

“I… I am… shocked.” She figures honesty is the best policy at this point. If they’re telling each other things, then nothing can matter much more than this. “I can’t believe this happened. I mean, I know how this happened—” he smirks at this, because how this happened involved a birthday party and several bottles of wine and giggling in the dark and fuck it it’s fine just take your pants off already, “but… We have not even talked about this yet. Any of this. This has been great—” she gestures between them, “really, really great— but… A baby? Us? Now? We have not even told anyone we are… whatever it is we are.” She throws her hands up, and ordinarily he’d find it adorable if she weren’t freaking out so much.

“I’m pretty sure they’ve figured it out already. McGee won’t look me in the eye anymore when we’re all together. Probably picturing us naked.”

“Shut up.”

It does the trick.

“How do you feel?” She turns the tables on him. Has to know she isn’t the only one looking for a lifeline.

“I feel…” he pauses for a second, grasping for the best way to handle this, “that this is a big decision. And I will support whatever you want to do.” His words are careful, precise. Enigmatic.

Infuriating.

“Not helpful.”

“It’s the truth, though.”

Panic begins to bubble within her.

“This is not the right time. Our jobs are our lives. We cannot even keep food in our apartments. Neither of us know anything about babies. You still break into a cold sweat when anyone under the age of sixteen comes within half a block of you!”

Normally, he would feign offense, but this is not the time. He stays still in this same spot next to the bed. He’s overwhelmed, he really is, but for the time being his priority is her. This she has to process for herself before he will allow himself to do the same. So he lets her.

“Tony, you and me and a baby, that is crazy.”

She scans the room for a focal point to ground her, but it’s useless. The tears rise in spite of her best efforts.

But.

“But… Tony, we’re having a baby.”

It is the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard, but the realization hits her like a freight train. She’s smiling through the tears now, because suddenly nothing has ever been clearer to her. This is absolutely the wrong time, but she’s never been more certain of wanting anything in her entire life.

Except for when she sees his ear-to-ear grin emerge before her, which casts away any fear she’s had.

She loves him.

“We’re having a baby,” he replies confidently as he bridges the gap between them. “We are having a baby,” he whispers again, close enough that he can touch her cheek, and he draws her in for a kiss. “Ziva, you sure about this?”

“I am sure.”

They both laugh, nervously but fully. They kiss some more. And even cry a little for good measure.

(This had to be her choice, of this he had no doubt. But if it were up to him he wouldn’t have changed a thing.)

“Look at me,” he asks as they break away for a second, “all that other stuff, we can figure out along the way. Take us: we made it this far and our parents didn’t know what the hell they were doing.” This elicits another chuckle out of her. “We know the important stuff anyway.”

“Which is what?”

“That I love you and you love me, and everything else will work its way out somehow.”

It is a bold statement. She holds back the tears again, because the whole love thing is still new for them, something that feels like it might be all a dream she doesn’t want to wake up from, but she realizes she can no longer avoid.

She believes in him, and that is enough for now.

He pulls her in for a hug — one of those bear hugs that makes her feel safe and protected from the world and leaves her wondering how she ever lived without this — and they both let reality set in.

They’re going to be parents.

And this bad timing couldn’t have been any more perfect.

“You know what this means though, right?”

Her eyes go wide in confusion, as though already he is one step ahead of her.

“They’re gonna have to find room for a car seat in the van. McGee can’t call shotgun anymore.”

She laughs, heartily, the absurdity of it all washing over her.

They are a family, and they are going to be fine.

#tiva fanfiction #my fanfiction #ziva david #tony dinozzo #au season 11 is where it's at #also inspired by my best friend #who a year ago at this point was just about to get pregnant herself #also in an oopsie fashion #and now it all worked out for her too #and i have an adorable goddaughter #so win-win #happy new year everyone!#may 2020 bring all your tiva dreams to life

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swishandflickwit · 4 years

Text

a million nights i've lived this quiet (i need to know if you hear this too) — 1/1

Summary: “That looks dangerous.”

“I eat danger for breakfast,” he snits, tone dry as a desert and the effect just as unpleasant.

She raises an unimpressed brow.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Toph.”

He smirks.

“That one’s on your brother, actually.”

“Figures,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes.

zutara + haircut

Ratings: General Audiences

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: unbeta'd, fluff, fluff without plot, haircut, hugs, hand holding, canon divergence (i think?), sozin's comet, set somewhere in the old masters (because as usual, we throw canon in the blender), generally a lot of wholesomeness all around, gratuitous use of sun and water metaphors (as you do when it comes to zutara), basically zuko and katara share a quiet moment before canon hits the fan lol

AN: i see a lot of zutara post agni-kai but what about zutara pre-agni kai huh?

Title from: wanna know by sabrina claudio

Other song inspirations include: frozen also by sabrina claudio and this version of chasing cars originally by snow patrol, covered by the wind and the wave. highly recommended listening.

Also on: ff.net | AO3

Other writing

Tagging: @jerkbend by request! hope you enjoy this one bb <3

-//////-

"That looks dangerous."

He doesn't chuckle, but neither is he quick enough to suppress the tug curling at the right corner of his lips—his mirth incontestable even through the warped looking glass from which she views him, stood as she is at the opening flap of his uncle's tent.

By the time she fully steps into the living quarters, his face is schooled into the deeply discontented, partly pained-to-be-alive glower he so favors.

"I eat danger for breakfast," he snits, tone dry as a desert and the effect just as unpleasant.

She raises an unimpressed brow.

"You've been spending too much time with Toph."

He smirks.

"That one's on your brother, actually."

"Figures," she mutters with a roll of her eyes. "What with half his brain being in his stomach..."

The laughter that the gibe yanks from the firebender is biting and brief, but Katara's breath hitches at the sound all the same. She latches on to it, holds it somewhere between her throat and chest, not too distant from the pitifully hollow space in her heart that she isolates from the bitter, ugly parts of her that are forged in battle and conflict.

"Should you…" is there a delicate way to phrase such a question? No, judging by the dirty look he throws her way, guessing at her thoughts, no there is not. She stifles the giggles bubbling at her throat with herculean effort, before remarking rather bluntly, "Are you qualified to handle that?"

He maintains his glare a second more before bowing his head and releasing a hot huff of air towards the ground in resignation. He places the mirror—from which the whole of their interactions had been exchanged thus far—atop the low table in front of him, then shifts so the entirety of his figure faces her. When he lifts his gaze, the veil of gloom that so frequents his visage has dissipated enough to allow a brittle smile to peek through.

"Probably not," he concedes with an amiability uncommon to his appearance. "Will you help me?"

But she likes the way the expression settles on him. It quells the ragged contours of his scar, somehow—his eyes seemingly unburdened by the sorrow he often declines to share, for once. As if in putting breath and voice to the request, he's quieted the ghosts of his troubled past for the moment to be fully present, here.

With her.

So when his metal-ladden hand falls almost shyly towards her, his stare gentle but no less piercing in its signature, sun-blessed intensity—obscured as they are by his unruly, ebony tendrils—she smiles. It is a fragile thing, muscles straining as they pull from the recesses of memories she also staunchly refuses to be tainted by war, but there—its sweetness shaped after her mother's loving lullabies, built in her father's effervescent embrace, and fashioned from each of her friends' unconquerable spirits.

She catches him, fingers winding into the shears in his grasp, and there is nothing for her than to accept.

"So what do you wanna do," she starts, eager to dispel the solemn atmosphere. "Some more layers? A buzz cut? Oh!" she nicks at the air experimentally, gleefully. "How about we just cut everything off?"

"You look way too happy to have an excuse to point that thing at me. That very sharp, very death-inducing thing."

"Shut up!" This time she lets her laughter loose, shoving at him playfully so that he's once again turned to the wooden chabudai. "Seriously," she cajoles until he picks up the mirror and through it, she glimpses his sedate mien. The levity in her demeanor fades, pitch dipping instead to match his contemplative stare. "What do you want?"

"I've been asked that a lot this past year," he sighs, bending his legs into a lotus position before slumping in on himself. "Yet I don't think I've ever really given a straight answer."

Task temporarily forgotten, she abandons the scissors at her feet to squeeze both his shoulders in reassurance. "Well whatever it is, I won't judge, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know. You're a great friend," he leans into her touch, and she beams at both the declaration and the rare show of guileless affection. "Fortune rarely sees fit to favor me but I'm really lucky I get to call you so."

The gravity of his proclamation has distress roiling like a tsunami underneath her skin, tempered only by the tinge of whimsy that weaves itself into his articulation. More curious than concerned now (although the stale taste of it lingers on her tongue), she lets her alarm abate at his unexpected resonance. She folds into a seiza at his left, fingers trailing the stalwart line of his back as she goes before placing them serenely on her lap, in absolute symmetry to their figures from last night. And just like she did then, she does so again now, ears at the ready and heart wide open so she can be the friend he needs, someone deserving of his reverence.

(Someone, she thinks as flickers of retrospection—of fighting against him slowly evolving into fighting with him—burst into brilliant clarity, worthy to be at his side.)

"You asked what I wanted," he rasps, low and tenuous.

He meets her stare and she hopes the encouragement in her chest burns soft like an ember through her eyes, enough to fuel the feeling of safety that ignites all too easily the more they orbit each other's presence. He inhales deep in a way that is familiar from his meditations then releases, a surrender in the exhalation—as if his apprehensions could drift away in the warm gale.

"Peace," he whispers, breaking their connection to look down at his fidgeting hands. The revelation is wrapped in such unfettered fear, as if in admitting the longing he has secured its impossibility instead of the inevitability she knows it to be, and she aches for him. "I want to put a stop to the bloodshed, an end to the suffering of both my people and yours and the rest of the nation. I want there to be a place for my soldiers to come home to. I want my mom," he sighs shakily, "and for no child to ever feel what it's like to lose a parent and for no parent to have to fear for the lives of their children as they're forced to this—this—needless slaughter. I want Toph's parents to see her for the capable woman that she is and for Suki's fellow warriors, her family, to be okay. I wish Sokka's plan succeeds, whatever it may be, and that I could guarantee your father's safety and that of your tribe. I wish my sister wasn't so messed up and that I didn't have to keep relying on my uncle to clean up after me when he's already lost so much to this fight. I wish the Spirits weren't so cruel as to put the fate of the world on the shoulders of a twelve-year old. I wish—I wish I could take back the past year, the past hundred years. I wish I could make up for all of it. I wish…" his gaze darts to her neck, digits hovering just shy of the luminescent pendant there, but not touching.

"I wish I could bring her back for you." He drops his fingers before he can make contact. His whole body wilts with the motion before he tightens his hand to a fist at his thigh. He shakes his head, craning it towards the ceiling where he directs his smile, devoid of any humor when he adds, "But yeah, a trim should do it."

Her heartbeat is loud in her ears in the wake of the silence his confession inflicts. The weight of his monumental aspirations sits heavy on her chest yet strangely enough, it doesn't leave her shaky. If anything, it strengthens her, grounds her, lends fire to the ice in her veins so when she moves, it's with the lofty grace she knows she possesses but doesn't always feel—the skill of a master and the experience of a hardened soldier encased in her fourteen-year-old bones.

But she is grateful for it anyway, when she positions herself at his back and the scissors don't tremble in her grasp when she loops her fingers around it.

"Yeah," she murmurs right back, smoothing her digits through surprisingly silky locks. "Yeah, I can do that."

She doesn't deign to push her skill given how dim it is—both inside and out, the sun sequestered by its billowing companions like it's taken refuge because it knows the blazing, celestial wildfire to come—and that there isn't much to cut in the first place. His tresses are at that awkward length of too long to be considered short but too short to be tied up into a bun or tail. So she merely evens out what she can, tidying stray tufts and snipping at scraggily ends, grappling at any excuse to keep her hands on him. And when that same excuse runs thin—because there's only so much she can cleave before she makes good on her drollery and indeed hacks it all off—she summons the dew drops hugging the blades of grass from outside the former general's tent. She glides the ribbon of water where her hands cannot reach, siphoning the severed hairs from his person and his clothes, before discarding the soiled glob completely.

"Thank you, Katara," he mumbles, though his focus remains on the distortion his image projects on the once cast-aside mirror, particularly on his marred skin. She wants to do something about the melancholy etching his warped effigy—a stark contrast to the hue of near-tranquility that had painted itself beautifully across his pale, elegant features—so she resumes her place at his left, sitting side-saddle with her left hand propping her up and her legs curved comfortably behind him. She narrows her vision onto his profile—the pucker of his mouth, the acuate bridge of his nose, and the graceful sweep of his jaw—then lays down her query with dogged finality.

"Will you do something for me?"

"Name it," he vows in that inordinately earnest manner of his, his countenance brightening enough to keep the deceitful umbrages at bay, that she feels almost bad for asking. "Name it and it's done."

She tuts. "I can't promise it will make up for everything, and it certainly won't be easy."

"I'm used to the fight." There is no arrogance in his enunciation, only a steeliness and determination that is uniquely Zuko. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"You promise?"

"I swear it, on my uncle's life—my mother's, wherever she may be—my nation—"

"Your honor?"

He chuckles—a little broken, a little watery and not enough amusement—but does accede. "Especially on that."

"Then forgive yourself, Zuko." He drops the looking glass in shock, head abruptly swiveling towards her in a dazzling collision of blue and amber, though she does not cower—her own renowned stubbornness stoking her fortitude when she simply holds his scrutiny. "And live. Live to see your soldiers come home. Live to reunite families, to find your mother. Live long enough to create the peace you seek, and to revel in this new world you will help rebuild, help heal. Because Aang's going to save the world. But you? You're going to change it."

I hope I'm there with you when you do, she wants to say, for he may not be able to alter the past but the future—

The future will be his to shape.

So she blinks back the mysterious haze in her eyes and swallows against the lump in her throat, and teases him instead, "I mean, you're not half as useless as I thought you were after all, so you could definitely do it."

"Your vote of confidence is astounding," his inflection is wry, but she is an excellent student and he had fast become her favorite subject. She knows him, and sees the carefully cultivated rancor for the barrier that it is, hoarding all the anguish and the grief but all that overwhelming love, too, that he is so hesitant to give. And who could blame him? When he's been shunned to darkness for every moment he's attempted to part with his vulnerability. All that radiance too afraid to shine, and she wants to tell him to let the light in.

(If Aang won't kill Ozai then she will convince—not that it would take much—Toph to dig the deepest, murkiest, most rodent-infested hole for the monster who dared to smother his own son's flame.)

"And I guess," she toys with rescinding, then thinks better of it, trading banter for sincerity when she unfurls his still-clenched fist and slides her fingers in the spaces between his. "Maybe I like having you around."

And, oh, but there it is—the soaring of the dawn, and all the exaltation of new beginnings it brings with it, in the exquisite harmony of his golden gaze.

"So," he hums, twirling the tawny ringlet right by her collarbone round his pointer before tucking it behind her ear. She reels with the gesture, tilting into his space. "Forgive myself, huh?"

"And live, of course," she miffs, albeit wetly. "If not for yourself, then for your uncle who loves you dearly." She tips her chin up defiantly, daring him to contradict her. "For all of us, who love you dearly."

"Is that all?" He rolls his eyes but that elusive, frolic quirk toils with his lips. He inclines his head until their noses are but a scant few millimeters apart, buzzing impishly, "Anything else I can do?"

"Actually," she hems, stroking at a badly-hewn strand by his cheek with just a pinch of regret before resolving not to volunteer for the act of cutting his hair again in the foreseeable future. "There is."

She bites her lip, wondering if she should request it at all before ultimately throwing caution to the wind. "We still have some time. Can we just pretend for a little while…" but no, the thought of ignoring the war even for a few minutes reeks too much of Lake Laogai so she amends. "Just stay here with me, please? Just—"

She brings their joined hands to his chest where she can sense his heartbeat, as strong and as steady as the soul it vivifies. With the tip of her finger from her other hand, she traces the frame of his too-tense lips until it is slack with repose, trails a featherlight pathway to the outer ridges that make up the border of his scar.

"Be quiet with me."

Those scorching orbs dance about her visage like the flickers of a candle—except he is more wax than flame when she cups his scabrous flesh, and he melts into her caress.

"I would do it just because you asked," he utters in the most dulcet of notes, and she is honored, for she recognizes the tenderness for the offering that it is. "Whatever happens out there, I'm glad it's you," he sighs, just once more. "I'm glad it's you with me."

"Together," she agrees, chin slumping onto his shoulder for purchase at the alluring giddiness his words incite. She is whirling, unmoored, until the digits of his own free hand anchor at the downy arch of her waist. He nudges, and she ebbs into a pool of untouchable calm on his lap, awash as she is in the current of him.

She closes her eyes, and when he follows suit, content to flow at her pace like he always does in return, a piece of her she hadn't even realized was aslant slots right into place.

They are hours away from the most important battle of their lives, one in which its outcome could very well destine the course of the next hundred years. Katara will not know the caliber of her entreaty, the importance of his promise, until the comet is at its zenith and her life is a paroxysmal brand seared across his middle like a supernova.

But for now, foreheads touching and their fingers seamlessly twined right above his vibrantly thrumming heart, she stows this moment beneath her ribcage, right in that war-untouched trove that pulses to the rhythm of his heart.

They are steeped in stillness, disrupted only by the din of the busy camp, and even that fades away as their breathing syncs.

Somewhere outside, the sun coasts along the heavens, beams of brilliance wrestling against its adumbrate prison.

The clouds part, feeble rays snagging at the canvas archway of their shelter.

The light pours in.

The shadows recoil.

And together, they shine.

-//////-

AN: okay this was supposed to be an exercise in brevity and restraint but uh, i don't think i succeeded?? but given that my goal was less than 2k and we're clocking this in at 2.8k, all things considered, i see this as an absolute win lmao so if you would be so kind as to let me know if you liked it, that would be stupendous!

come say hi to me!

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #katara #zuko #zutara fan fiction #zutara ff #zutara fluff #zutara friendship #swishandflickwit ff #ngl im so sleepy rn #i posted this instead of sleeping #its all about the forehead touching and the HANDS #zutara owns my life #this is the proof

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reeree1500 · 5 years

Text

The Return- Part 10

Disclaimer: YALL IM SO SO SO SORRY.😭😭 I have been horrible and not updated this story for at least a month.😬 I can explain though... University has been kicking my ass and between that and my co-op placement at a law firm.😅 Ive had absolutely no time to do anything😩 BTW IVE MISSED YALL SO MUCH❤️And Ive read all your messages and asks. And yes my mental health is now better and y'all are so understanding and supportive 💕 honestly could not have asked for a better group of individuals☺️❤️

Part 1 part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 part 8 part 9 Part 11

Anyways onto the storyyyyy.....

Warnings: ANGSTY AF (kinda figured out that im probably a smut and angst writer at this point🤷🏽‍♀️), sucky ass grammar and spelling like always, my cliche imagination and the fact that Im probably a horrible human being😬😩 Also made it extra long cuz I felt baddd

PLEASE DONT KILL ME FOR THIS ONE😬

Taglist: @yanii-the-hippie @oceans-daughter-3 @peaceisadirtyword @laketaj24 @camatsuru @youbloodymadgenius @calum-hoodwinked-me @cutegyrl927 @wuxiesalt @readsalot73 @cindy-exo @affection-rabbit @amy8220 @mel0nch0ly @queenofallthyfandoms @limbo-limbo-limbo @ragnarssonsbitch @supernaturalvikingwhore @ifihadwings128 @paintballkid711 @jenny-the-lover @funmadnessandbadassvikings @blonddnamedhandz @hallowed-heathen @pinkrockstar19 @ivarthethiccness

Sorry if I missed any of you💕 Lemme know if you want to be tagged. Also requests are open, and I’ve got a ton of them to do and finish. Hopefully Ill be able to post them soon enough

Arthur’s POV

“Arthur please! Open the door my love, I know what it may seem like to you, but I assure you that its not.” (Y/n) pleaded from the other side. I sat down on the mattress in our chamber contemplating whether or not it was true. Should I believe what my wife so desperately is trying to reassure me off. Or should I stick with my gut feeling and tell her how I have felt for the last 4 years. Her constant pounding on the door finally gets to me and I make my way to open it. “I wish to be left alone at the moment (y/n).” Her arms circle around my waist and I can feel her face wetting by back with tears. “Arthur please, talk to me. Why have you run off. You know that I love you. I do not want him, all he does is bring me pain and you take that away. So please, talk to me!” (y/n) murmurs into my back. As much as it pains me to do so I pry her hands off of me and sit us down on the bed. All I do is long for her touch, but this is not okay. I cannot keep feeling this way and go on pretending that I could have ever stood a chance against him. “(y/n), look at me. I love you and I always will. But its evident that you love him. and I honestly can say that I know I will never stand a chance against him, because the thought of you possibly running back to him has always been on my mind since the day we got married.”

Her eyes showed so much pain that confessing this felt as if I was driving a knife through her heart. “Arthur, I love you. What can I do to show you that. Yes I confess that I was in love with him, but that was long ago and I have left it in the past in order to build a future with you. Whom I love and who I share and will continue to share beautiful children with. So please don't shut me out, Arthur.” She says leaning our foreheads together and holding my face in her gentle hands. “Ok, however I want to be able to process things by myself. So I have decided to have the guest room across the hall prepared only until I figure things out.” With out giving her a chance to fight back, I place my lips on hers and savour the kiss as if it were our last. Meeting her eyes was something I wanted to avoid as I knew that just looking at her broken expression would make me change my mind. I hastily make my way out of the room, but sneak a quick glance over my shoulder to find my wife staring off into the direction where I once sat. With tears streaming down her eyes...

Your POV

What had I done? Why was I such fool to not see what my husband was clearly going through? Millions of questions rushed into my mind about how to go about this situation. I loved Arthur, I was clear on that. But he spoke the truth, there was something in me that could not let Ivar go and it took hurting my husband and Ivar to figure that out. As I sulked I forgot about the doctor whom I had asked to see me earlier. I was having really bad stomach pains and my breasts were more tender then they had ever been. So I wanted to make sure that I was not sick, as that would have been the last thing I needed on my plate at the moment. “My Queen, are you alright? Do you wish to push back this appointment, I dont mind coming by later when you're better.” The doctor spoke from behind me. “Yes, it seems so. Ill let the servant girl know if I need you doctor. Im sorry for the inconvenience.” “Nonsense your majesty, it is my pleasure to serve you.” With a bow the doctor retreats from the room and Im left to my own thoughts once again...

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“(y/n), wake up... its seems that you fell asleep on the floor. Come on I’ll help you up.” Upon hearing Hvitty’s comforting voice my eyes flutter open and I cant help the tears that song come down my face like a cascade. “(y/n)! are you alright are you hurt anywhere? Why are you crying?” Hvitserk’s eyes scan my face and my body looking for the source of my pain, which is held in my heart, but he’ll never know that. “Arthur... He...” I try to find the words to say. “What! What did he do! Did he hurt you? I swear ill kill him!” With that Hvitserk tries to let me go and run out the door, but somehow I manage to stop him. “Hvitserk, No! He didn't hurt me. I hurt him... He believes that Im in love with Ivar, and I fear that their maybe some truth to it...” I say just above a whisper, with my head held low. “(Y/N), Ive known that since before you were married. It was obvious, but I would never say anything to you because I found that it was best if I kept such observations to myself, before I found out about your father.” Lifting my head and staring directly at him, I move my head to the side with a puzzling look. “What do you mean about my father, Hvitserk?” Hvitserk now mirrors the same lost look that I have on my face. “I thought thats why you and Ivar had gotten together, because Ragnar’s not your father...”

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Ivar’s POV

“Aghhhh!”Is the sound that comes out of my gritted teeth when the medicinal herbs are placed on my face. “That hurts like a bitch, get out! Ill do this myself if I have to. GO!” I yell at the servant girl who tried to cleanse and tend to the cuts on my face. “Ivar, please let the servants tend to you. I still cannot believe that Arthur punched you in the face. Hehehe, you deserved it though, how could you question the paternity of his children and not expect him to want to kill you?” Bjorn laughs as he chugs the rest of his drink down. “Well, if you actually cared about your children and the heir to your throne, you’d also be quite upset to find a Christian King claiming to be their father. Those children are mine! And its pretty evident, just look at Marjorie. She's my spitting image.” I snarl at him as the anger begins to rise in me again. “Ivar, thats your mistake and why you’ll never get (y/n) back. You believe that everything should be yours. And that people are things you can govern over, but they're not. Because those are children. And yes they may be yours, but you cannot take away what they have known because you want to be selfish.” He says with a stern look on his face, whilst getting up from his chair and making his way to the door. “Now get ready and fix yourself we have a intimate dinner to attend to with MY sister and the love of your life.” Unbeknownst to us, there was Freydis on the balcony listening to our whole conversation. And little did I know that it would come to be the thing I regretted the most.

At the dinner I notice (y/n) sit on the opposite side of the table from Arthur. This wouldn't have affected me if it wasn't for the look on both of their faces. They seemed distraught and broken. Arthur masked it well, but (y/n) was an open book for all of us to know exactly how she felt at that moment. Not much talking happened, besides Marjorie and Erik shouting at each other on who was better at riding. They reminded me a lot of myself and all I wanted was to tell them the truth, that they were my children and that they would go back to Kattegat with me to learn about the true gods and not the fable that had been told to them about their so called ‘God’.” “(Y/n) are you alright, you do not seem quite like yourself tonight.” Bjorn states with a concerned look that we all share. Even Arthur looks a bit concerned, but his body language makes it seem as if he is alright and nothing is wrong. “Sarah, could you please put Marjorie and Erik to bed? Its getting late for them and they have their lessons early in the morning.” She says with a stern and cold look in her (e/c) eyes. “Su...sure your majesty. “ At that Bjorn stands up as if to accompany Sarah, but is quickly stopped by (y/n)’s icy glare and venomous words. “Sit your ass down.” At that we all look astonished, but Hvitserk only stares at her with sadness and what seems to be sympathy. He must know why she is like this then.

Bjorn slowly sits back down on the table. A shocked look graces his face, as he cannot comprehend why she is acting this way towards her beloved older brother. “How long.” Is all she grits out through her teeth. “What do you mean, (y/n)?” My eyes meet Hvitserk’s own and the realization dawns upon me. She knows...

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Your POV

“Stop with the bullshit! I cannot take anyone else lying to me!” I scream as I bang my hands against the table, stunning everyone in sight. “How long did you know that Ragnar was not my father! How long have you kept the truth from me! How long have you known that Athelstan was my father!” I could careless about everyone staring at me as if I was a mad woman. I had been lied to my whole life. All I had known had been a lie, and the people who I trusted the most in this world had been the ones keeping it a secret from me. “(Y/N)... I..I’ve know since the moment you were born. But father had sworn me into secrecy and I could not break a promise. This doesn't change anything though. You are still my sister and you will always be.” Bjorn says in a haste as tries to come closer to me, but I step back and move as far back as I can. “Did you know? Tell me! Ivar did you know that we were not siblings!” Ivar didn't even have to answer. I knew from the look in his eyes that he too had been lying to me.

“I knew.” Arthur says staring right at me. “I knew that you weren't his daughter and I knew that Ivar wasn't your brother. But I kept that information from you because all I wanted to do was have you by my side. I’m sorry, for the pain I have caused you (y/n). Im sorry for being selfish and not telling you the truth, but I now see that I was wrong and as of tomorrow you are free to go back to your country. I promise that your title and lands will not be taken from you or from the children. May they be mine or his. But I cannot go on with this facade anymore.” Arthur says in the most calm demeanour as he stands up and comes to me. “You hypocrite! How dare you make me feel like shit for harbouring feelings for Ivar when you knew all along and knew that my whole life was a lie.” I scream as I run at him and slap him across the face. But before I can get another punch in I feel a strong grip holding me from behind. From the shocks and the utter feeling in my stomach I knew it could have only been Ivar. As I try desperately to release from his vice grip, my whole world comes crashing down when Sarah enters the room. With blood all over her.

“Your highnesses...Erik.... he.. he..” She tries to say through her shock. “What! What is wrong with my son!” Ivar, Arthur and I scream at the same time. “He.. he’s dying!”

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We all simultaneously run after Sarah towards the doctors quarters. Ivar with his brace on, manages to run faster than all of us and busts the doors wide open. if I wasn't so worried about my son or upset about the fact they all knew Ragnar wasn't my father, I would've been impressed. “What are you doing! Get away from my son!” At that Ivar rushes towards the doctor who is bleeding Erik out. Grabbing him by the collar he slams the doctor on the wall and his sclera go into bluish hue, showing that he is in danger of breaking a bone. “Ivar stop it! Let the man go, he is just trying to help.” “Help my ass! I will not let you harm my son, do you understand me! I will not let you harm him!” At that Ivar lets the doctor go, but not without staring him down. And the doctor looking like he is about to shit himself. Rushing to Erik’s side I notice something strange. The colour of his skin is now fading and his eyes have bags under them. But what hits me the most is the memory of Uncle Rollo teaching me about poison. “He doesn't need to be bled, he needs medicine. He’s been poisoned...”

“Mama! What is wrong with Erik! He will be okay right? He has to be okay!” Marjorie begins to say as she shakes with fear. Before Arthur or I could say something to console her, Ivar bends down and takes her hands in his. “Marjorie, listen to me. Your brother is a fighter and so are you. After all were related aren't we?” Ivar says as he lifts her chin. “Yes..I suppose that we are. Is it true what they say though? Are you our father?” At that Ivar turns to me looking towards me for permission. At this point I think to myself how hard it was to learn my whole life had been a lie and that I would not want that for my children, so I nod. “Yes, Marjorie I am your father. And no your mother is not my sister. It was something that we had to say because she needed to be kept safe.” He says ever so calmly. “Safe from who?”She questions “From my mother. Your grandmother.”

Cough*Cough* Spurts of blood cover me in seconds. My attention becomes focused in on my son again. “Where is the damn antidote! Please someone hurry!” At that Hvitserk runs into the room with a small green vial. “Here take this it should help him. Lagertha gave it to me before her and father left. Something about it would come in handy some day. Here.” Shoving the vial in my hands I open it quickly and lift Erik’s head. “Drink this Erik. It should help you, my darling. Please be strong, I know you're scared, but you’ll be alright ok. Everything will be ok.” I say through tears. Today had been the worst day by far. “Mira... please help my son. I know you're always with me, but please help me now. Pray for my son and ask God to save him.”

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A few hours had gone by and nobody had moved from the room. Arthur sat on the chair next to the bed with his elbows on his knees, looking straight and focused in on Erik. Bjorn and Hvitserk sat by the fireplace and were wetting some towels so that we could place them atop Eriks head. I sat on the bed next to my son and caressed his beautiful face hoping for a miracle. I had dismissed Sarah and told her to take Marjorie with her, but she would not budge. Sarah left, but Marjorie stayed and sat in Ivars lap asking him if Erik would pull through. Ivar was sweet to answer as best as he could, and I could tell that he truly cared for his children even if his demeanour wasn't the greatest. I knew that deep in my heart I would have to let him get to know them, but it still hurt especially knowing that he now was married. “Wait, where is Freydis? I haven't seen her since yesterday.” I say looking towards Ivar. “I dont know earthier to be honest, she's probably looking at some damn flowers anyway. Its best if she's far away anyway.” “Why would you say that about your wi-” “she's not my wife, at least not yet. Were not actually married, (y/n). I just said that to piss you off.” Taking a deep breath I go to stand up from the bed in order to fetch a bucket of water and some new cloths. Instead I end up on the floor cradling my belly, with a burning sensation in my chest and blood pouring out from my mouth. “(Y/n)! Mama!” I can hear the shouts around me. “Fetch the doctor! Now hurry!” The voices around me begin to fade and not before long I can feel myself drifting away.

“My baby... Save my baby...” And with that everything turns pitch black...

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zetalial · 5 years

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I can’t stand Ling

Random rant about how much I dislike Ling Yao. Sorry if you like Ling, I just can’t. Feel free to argue with me if you like - this ended up way, way longer and more detailed than it needed to be. I try not to dwell on characters I dislike so don’t expect a dozen more spite posts - this is a one off. I decided I’d feel better by writing it out.

But I really do dislike him. He annoyed me from the first moment he appeared in episode 15 of BH where he behaves absolutely obnoxiously throughout the entire episode and continued to annoy right up until he got consumed with Greed. And his ending annoyed me.

Part 1 - First appearance

First impression are everything, right? I’m willing to change my mind if a character has hidden depths of course but if their character is plain irritating, that impression tends to last.

Okay, so he’s passed out in a random alley and Ed and Al find him - which is by the way a huge plot contrivance. They’re in Rush Valley in the South and Ling will explicitly tell them that he travelled to Amestris via the Xerxes ruins which are the North-East. And he seems to be heading to Central, there’s no reason for him to be in Rush valley let alone in a random alley alone so Ed and Al can help him. (This is a minor point though, I can deal with a couple of contrivances.)

After Ed and Al help him out, giving him food, he asks about the Philosopher’s stone and Ed tells them they don’t know anything - and the Philosopher’s stone is evil by the way, seeking power from the stone is dangerous - will Ling ever have to question his desire for the Stone and the source of its power? Ha, no.

So Ling decides to sic his ninja bodyguards on Ed and Al! They said they didn’t know anything! Given how rare information on the stone is, that’s completely reasonable but oh Ling just knows that they’re hiding something about it? And thinks attacking two kids he knows nothing about is a great idea?

Lan Fan and Fuu do not hold back either, they use explosives and knives and cause loads of damage in their fight when Ed and Al haven’t even done anything! It’s a cool fight but the circumstances make me hate it! We get a shot of Ling casually eating a big meal while this is all going on to show how little he cares. Oh and he makes Ed pay the bill for it.

When Ed and Al do manage to win, Ling is completely unapologetic and allows Ed to get all the blame for the damages he caused when he sent his people to attack Ed and Al. When Ed comes back to see Winry, she is furious at him for damaging his automail again and Ling’s just there again, casually breaking in to Ed’s place, insisting on tagging along even though Ed tells him not to. Ling doesn’t face a single consequence for any of this by the way. Ling does explain his status here explaining that he wants the Stone to become emperor of Xing which is... yeah still quite a selfish goal.

And then there’s the conversation at the end of the episode where Fuu asks Ling why he’s putting up with Ed and Al, who are beneath him. Eh? This is Ling being nice? Ed and Al have been fairly nice, helping him in that alley, listening to his story and their anger was entirely justified at how obnoxious Ling has been this entire episode. But oh Ling is supposedly bowing his head to someone so far beneath him? Ling realises there’s bigger things than a little humility when his clan’s fate is in the balance? What do appearances matter then?

So you’re telling me that being the most obnoxious and annoying person ever was deliberate? All he achieved was making Ed and Al and me absolutely hate him! I’m going to ignore this conversation about Ling seeming wise and having a bigger plan because it doesn’t match up with anything else in the entire episode.

Now, I don’t mind flawed characters - but Ling never gets called out on any of his behaviour and never gets asked to change. Lan Fan is ridiculously devoted to him right from the beginning and the only way we see it as a flaw is that she’s so defensive she loses her cool just from hearing Ling get insulted. Quite why she is so loyal is never explored and I know she’s only a side character but you know I could really use a legitimate reason to like Ling.

Part 2 - Ling’s leadership?

Okay, his first appearance was just a comedy episode so I’ll just be kind and dismiss it. What’s Ling like when the plot gets a bit more serious then? In Central, Ed and Al hatch a plan to catch a homunculus by getting Scar to attempt to kill them and Ling volunteers to help fight the homunculi while Ed and Al deal with Scar.

So Ling and Lan Fan get into a fight with Wrath and Gluttony and Ling reveals that he’s also a superb fighter too because why not? Like, Lan Fan takes a nasty injury from Wrath but Ling manages to hold him off and runs away while carrying Lan Fan. That’s downright crazy alone - that Ling is such a competent fighter he can hold off Wrath while carrying Lan Fan! Isn’t Lan Fan meant to be the trained bodyguard?

Okay so his fighting skills are ridiculous, fine it’s a shonen anime, everyone can fight, whatever. It’s the conversation with Wrath that really gets to me though.

Wrath tells him that if he let go of Lan Fan, he might have a have a chance of escaping. Ling interprets this weirdly and goes on about how a true ruler cares about his subjects and so would never abandon his people and says that Bradley is no true King.

Shut up Ling. Bradley isn’t hiding behind others here, he’s fighting you one-on-one, not sacrificing minions. And you aren’t Amestrian so you have no reason to know about Bradley’s other decisions as a leader so how can you so confidently criticise him? (Bradley is an interesting character who totally shines when being challenged by the heroes but I hate Ling doing it here.) I mean, isn’t Ling the one who orders his minions to fight while he eats breakfast and lets someone else pay for the consequences?

Okay, so I shouldn’t take that fight seriously because it’s not meant to be serious. How about the current one? Ling volunteered to help with Ed’s plan and that lead to Lan Fan risking her life for him! Sure, Lan Fan agreed because she’s stupidly loyal but this was Ling’s plan and she got hurt! Her injuries are as much his fault as anyone’s.

Ling choosing not to abandon her is nice, sure. But given she got hurt following him, I’d call it being a decent human being, rather than a true paragon of leadership! And that’s if I’m to accept that any of this makes one particularly good for being a leader anyway. Ling is kind of extremely reckless. Did I mention the part where he disappeared on his bodyguards just because, leading them to worry as he was passed out on the street in the middle of Central? And then got arrested? Gosh he’s irresponsible. He is so lucky that worked out so easily.

Bradley doesn’t refute Ling’s words, just saying something about how there are no true kings in this world while Ling attempts to escape, still carrying Lan Fan. And there’s another annoying plot hole here where Lan Fan lets off a flashbomb and Ling takes the chance to escape but Wrath reveals his other eye under the eyepatch, preventing Ling’s escape. And then it cuts to the next scene and... Ling has escaped the room!

He’s still running away from Wrath while carrying Lan Fan and despite how fast Wrath is, Ling manages to get pretty far away somehow. Far enough that Lan Fan successfully cuts off her arm, then they tie it to a dog, and escape through the sewers all before Wrath catches up to him. This whole sequence was all off-screen!

In case we haven’t got enough of Ling being awesome, our next scene of him has him jumping out of the sewers with his shirt off where he proceeds to capture Gluttony. Heh, I guess there’s nothing wrong with that but I can’t help but feel like I’m really supposed to like Ling here and love the badass moments and I cannot. I’m upset that the scene where Ling is forced tie her arm to a dog while Lan Fan is bleeding out beside him was cut as that’s the kind of scene that would get me to actually like him. Not scenes of him being an awesome fighter.

Part 3 - The part I don’t hate

Ling is a character with flaws and room for growth, which is something I can appreciate. But these earlier flaws are presented as just comic relief. That’s what annoys me - I usually like characters who can be obnoxious jerks so long as their flaws aren’t just blatantly laughed off as a joke.

In the next few episode we do get to see a more serious and conflicted Ling. This is Ling at his most interesting. He feels guilty about what Lan Fan’s done for him when he was too weak to do so himself and is determined that her sacrifice has meaning. So he’s got the hero flaw of caring too much.

This leads to an interesting conflict where Ling, Roy and Ed all fight over Gluttony and his philosopher's stone. Ed wants it for Alphonse and points out it was his plan. Roy wants it to heal Havoc. Ling wants it to become emperor and argues about what Lan Fan’s sacrificed so that they could catch the homunculus. Sadly, Gluttony breaks free then so this argument isn’t explored any further here.

At the end of the series we see how they’ve changed in this regard. Ling finally has a stone and even though he’s just lost Greed to another sacrifice, he freely offers the stone to Edward to save Al. Ed refuses. So this stuff is all interesting and I really do wish the conflict and resolution wasn’t so brief (and that Roy wasn’t just given a stone to cure his blindness but I digress.)

Next, Ling gets swallowed by Gluttony and there’s more comedy which is still a touch irritating but not nearly so bad as his first few appearances. Ling collapses again with no energy and this should be serious but it’s still presented as comic again. I can’t take Ling’s fainting spells seriously as it’s played for comedy every. Single. Time. That aside, Ling is at his most tolerable here and it’s interesting how determined he is against Envy in contrast to Ed’s horror at Envy’s true form slowing him down. When they’re out, Ling distrust of Father is also good.

And finally we get to Ling accepting Greed into his body. Again he’s being super-reckless and he’s sort of being called out on this as Ed urges him to fight but Ling decides not to. Again we get this characterisation of Ling as someone willing to surrender and lose face to get what he wants. As he said to Fuu when he first met Ed, appearances don’t matter in the long run. He can bow his head when the situation requires. Fighting Greed here would be pointless.

(This is in contrast to Ed who is prideful and can never accept defeat. In Gluttony’s stomach we see him marching relentlessly onward even though its futile. Later, we see Ed’s growth where he agrees to be Greed’s minion, letting go of his useless pride as he realises he can gain something by humbling himself.)

I wish this was explored a bit more too though. It feels more like Ling’s recklessly jumping at the chance to gain immortality despite having been told repeatedly that its a bad idea and, though it seems like he faces consequences in getting consumed by Greed, it eventually works out quite well for him. (Okay that’s a bit harsh, I love Greed’s struggle.) And it seems like its more like luck than any cleverness on his part, which is kinda irksome with how lucky Ling is generally.

So yeah, I like where he’s serious and gets challenged but I feel like it rarely happens. Ling’s other flaws just feel like they’re all comedy where the joke is that he’s rude and obnoxious and pushy and gets away with it. None of his other appearances stop his personality from grating on me. At the beginning of the series, he thinks he’s going to find the secret to immortality and be a great leader and apparently he’s completely correct. Not that I want him to fail, I just don’t like his initial character when I feel like I’m supposed to and most of the character development with Greedling feels like its solely for Greed. Eh I’ve rambled on enough now.

I actually love Greed’s character, he’s really interesting and I adore his development. My hatred is purely directed at Ling.

#fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #Wow this turned out long #heh sorry I ramble #but yeah it's cool if you're a fan of Ling #I just seriously overread into characters sometimes #and my sense of humour isn't suited to fmab #fmab crit #meta #myposts #but sometimes a sour first impression can leave a lasting impact

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Betting on the Bullseye (21/?)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a drunken bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush - if you can call him that - to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala for Boston’s Children Shelter. Killian Jones is that celebrity. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost all because of the ridiculousness of the situation. What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.

What she truly doesn’t expect is to actually like the man.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I think you guys might like this one!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @galaxyzxstark @lifeinahole27 @andiirivera @ultimiflos @hollyethecurious @thejollyroger-writer @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @notoriouscs

“Good God, it’s hot in here,” Emma murmurs to herself as she walks into her office, sweat already beading at her forehead. After the disaster with the air conditioner breaking earlier this summer, she cannot deal with this again. “Did they turn the damn air conditioning off over the weekend?”

She’s got to stop talking to herself.

She keeps walking down the hall, flicking lights on as she goes. She couldn’t sleep last night, spending it all staring at her phone and the message Killian had sent her after she’d told him she got home.

Killian:I’m sorry too.

It was only three words, three words that she’s seen before, but for some reason she couldn’t text him back. She didn’t know what to say. It’s kind of hard to figure out how to voice “hey, I’m still really freaking out about everything, but I love you and don’t like arguing with you.”

Okay, so she could have voiced it exactly like that, but every time she went to text those words or three other more familiar words or to press his contact name, she couldn’t do it. She doesn’t know why, but she couldn’t do it. And even as she tried to stay present in meeting Brody (who is absolutely freaking adorable) and checking on Mary Margaret, her mind kept playing over everything that had happened. She’d freaked out. There really aren’t any words for it other than that. She freaked out over all of the little things that have been building up into this one big fear of she and Killian not working out because their lives are so different and three thousand miles apart.

A little voice in her head reminds her that it’s two thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine, technically, and she knows that little voice is Killian’s. He looked it up. Maybe he looked it up to see how many frequent flyer points he’s been earning lately, or maybe he just full on Jess Mariano’d it. That’s totally not a verb, but it is kind of all she can think about. That and the fact that this good thing she’s got going for her that could end.

She doesn’t want it to end.

Talking to Killian would probably help things not to end…but it also could make things end more quickly. She thinks that may be what kept her, what keeps her from talking to him. It’s not that she’s mad at him or upset with him or any of that despite the harsh words that he said to her too. It’s more than she’s worried that the third party in their relationship, the damn distance, is finally going to be the breaking point. She’s terrified of it being the breaking point, and she has no idea how to handle it. If anything, she’s doing everything she can to avoid handling it.

She ran. She knows that she ran, that she fell back into this old pattern of hers, but she also knows that she had to leave California anyways. She was coming home yesterday regardless of if Brody was born or she and Killian got into an argument. She was always going to come home. Maybe she wouldn’t have spent her night in his guest room and left without saying goodbye, but sometimes she makes dumb choices. She’s human, and she’s not going to always do the rational thing.

Looking back, she can’t believe how much things would have been different if she had taken a moment to breathe.

If they had both taken a moment to breathe in the heat of the argument.

She’s always been a fan of avoiding her problems, avoiding the fact that her parents left her with nothing, avoiding the fact that the first person she ever trusted with her heart betrayed her in a way that she still cannot wrap her head around, and avoiding every little heartbreak in between. Usually she shuts everything out, shuts everyone out, and hides away from it all, never thinking of it again until something triggers the memory. Now, though, all she can think about is Killian and how she should have talked to him, should have never left him to worry like she knows that he did. It’s not the first time that they’ve argued. It hopefully won’t be the last, but she knows that this time she can’t walk around blaming Killian for everything.

Really, she can’t blame herself for it either. She can’t deny that she’s screwed up, that she has things to own up to, but she also knows that she’s not fighting with Killian because of something either of them did wrong besides a few harsh words they shouldn’t have said. It’s simply the circumstances their lives have put them in.

Normally she needs Mary Margaret or David or, hell, even Ruby to drill things like this into her head, but she had a long time to think in Killian’s guest room and on the plane ride home. She may have her own set of issues, but she apparently is starting to figure them out.

Even if she really wants to avoid people right now.

That’s likely why she’s walking into her office before seven in the morning on her first day back at work after her vacation. She doesn’t think anyone in the offices even comes in this early, which is probably why it’s so damn hot in here. That or September is just off to this awful start. She wants fall. Maybe everything will be better in the fall.

Maybe she’ll have talked to Killian by then.

No, definitely. She definitely has to talk to him. She’ll call or text tonight. Yeah, that’s exactly what she’ll do. She’s not going to chicken out. She’s not. She has to call. She knows Killian, and he is definitely waiting on her. He’s always waiting on her and following her lead, and as sweet as that is, if Killian wants something, he should be able to say it without worrying about if it’s going to freak her out or not. So she has to talk to him.

She’s terrified, but she has to talk to him. They’re not going to break up. They’re not. They’re going to apologize and fix things and make it all better. She thinks that as if a band-aid can heal a bullet hole, but if it’s big enough, maybe it’ll stop the bleeding for a little while.

There’s a reason she’s not a doctor. Okay, there are a lot of reasons.

The fact that she keeps repeating things over and over and over again in her head to keep herself from crying in the middle of her workplace is likely another reason. She’s cried a lot in the past forty-eight hours. She sobbed the night of their argument when she was pacing in Killian’s guest room, the room she stayed in when they weren’t dating, and she’d sobbed on the plane even with all of her thinking through things. Maybe because of her thinking through things. The woman next to her likely thought she was crazy. She’s honestly surprised that the woman didn’t ask for a different seat so she can be away from the crazy woman.

Emma surely would have.

Her tears finally stopped when she got to the hospital, only to start again when she saw all of the Nolans in Mary Margaret’s hospital room. It was like a freaking post card or Hallmark card or an entire Hallmark movie. But not one with Lori Loughlin or anything. She’s probably not going to be playing a devoted mother any time soon, which Emma thinks is pretty ironic because she seems pretty devoted to her kids. But they were all so happy, and Leo was fascinated with his little brother, if not a bit jealous when he realized Brody was coming home with them. So obviously she cried. She’s not sure if it was all happy tears or if she was just feeling so damn much right then and there that every little emotion she had ever felt was flowing over until her eyes were more red than green.

She was like a Christmas tree.

And maybe her mind is a little all over the place because she hasn’t exactly slept in two days. She’s had a lot to think about.

“You’re here early.”

“Holy shit,” she gasps, literally stumbling backward and grabbing her chest like she’s clutching pearls or something ridiculous like that as her heartbeat speeds up and Kathryn comes into view with files cradled in her arm. “Kathryn, you startled me.” “Well, maybe if you were in the office a little more, you wouldn’t get so startled about people being here to, you know, do their jobs.”

Kathryn pushes past her, their shoulders hitting, and she turns around as Kathryn walks away. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

Kathryn stops in her tracks, turning around and giving Emma a stare that could melt ice while in a freezer. “I mean,” she snaps, taking several steps forward until she’s in Emma’s face, their noses close enough to touch, “that maybe if you spent time at work instead of traipsing around with your boyfriend all the time, maybe you wouldn’t be surprised that I’m here.”

“I’m entitled to a personal life.”

“Your personal life is on the front page of gossip magazines and in a million articles online. Your personal life is everywhere, and ever since the damn Christmas gala, I’ve had to spend my time answering phone calls on a daily basis asking if I can get them in contact with Killian Jones. Time is taken out of my day to deal with you all the while you suntan on a boat in California.”

“Kathryn,” she begins calmly even as her entire body begins to heat, her stomach swirling in a way that’s totally different than it has been in the past few days, “if you have a problem with my personal life, I suggest you keep it to yourself. I can guarantee you that it doesn’t affect your life nearly as much as it affects mine, and if you’ve got such a problem with it, why don’t you complain to HR? I’m sure they can help you get the stick out of your ass by telling you that I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong here.”

“You’re kind of entitled for someone who literally came from nothing if all of the articles are correct.”

“Well, I may have come from nothing, but look at that,” she says, moving her arms out to the sides to encompass the room, “we’ve ended up in the same damn place. Have a good day, Kathryn.”

She’s absolutely done with that conversation. Kathryn has always been awful and petty, but that’s taking things to new levels. Emma was much kinder than she wanted to be, but she is at work and calling someone an asshole and then slapping her would do nothing but get Emma fired. Her life is a mess right now, and the absolute last thing she needs is to get fired. She’s got savings but…she’d have nothing. Her apartment is crappy, but it still costs a hell of a lot to live without a roommate in the city.

Her job is kind of a necessity for her to live.

She also really loves her job.

That saying when it rains it pours seems to hold true throughout the day. She did take two days off, but there really shouldn’t be that much for her to do, especially since she answered some of her emails last night. Everything is pretty much nonstop, and if it wasn’t for Ruby bringing her a salad, she wouldn’t have eaten all day. She’s not even sure that she ate yesterday, and all she’s had today is some lettuce with a couple of pieces of cold chicken in it. And barely even that. From the way Ruby looked at her and talked to her, Emma knows that Ruby is aware that she and Killian are in a fight. Emma didn’t say anything, but Ruby knows. Either Ruby knows her that well or she’s talked to Killian. She’d bet on both, but if she had to pick one, it’d be Killian calling Ruby to make sure the Emma was okay.

He probably didn’t call Mary Margaret because he didn’t want her to worry.

But her day is pretty much the day from hell, the past few days have been really, and when she gets home, she collapses on the couch, unbuttons her pants, and wonders if maybe she could prove Kathryn right and just not go to work and yet still have a job.

“Shit,” she groans, rolling over on the couch and reaching for her purse on the ground, fumbling for her phone. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

She was going to call Killian. She is going to call Killian, but she’s not exactly in the best of moods. Being in a better mood would probably help this conversation a hell of a lot, but she doesn’t think she can go another day without at least talking to him. They don’t have to fix all of their problems today. That would be impossible. All she really wants is to hear his voice for a little while and to know that they’re not broken.

They really screwed up a little bit, didn’t they?

She really screwed up.

Taking a deep breath and then three more, closing her eyes and attempting to calm the way butterflies are fluttering in her stomach, she presses down on his contact name and waits as the rings begin. And then as they end and his voice message pops up.

Well, that’s not the way she wanted to hear his voice.

Disappointment washes over her entire body, and she feels tears prickling in the back of her eyes, which is ridiculous. She’s not often ashamed of tearing up, but tearing up over her boyfriend not answering her call when that happens all the time for them, well, she feels a little ridiculous over that. She needs some ice cream or something. Or donuts. She could probably eat an entire box of donuts.

But then her phone starts buzzing on her stomach, a picture of she and Killian from his premiere just a few days ago popping up, and she’s so frantic to answer it that she nearly misses his call from how her fingers are shaking.

“Hello?” Killian audibly sighs, and she does the same, relief washing over her before he speaks again. “Hi, Swan.”

“Hi,” she squeaks, choosing to ignore the fact that she actually just squeaked. “Hi, hi, hi. I’m so glad you answered or called or I don’t even know. I was waiting and missing and didn’t really know and – I’m just going to shut up right now.”

Killian chuckles on the other end of the line, and it lessens the tension she feels in her shoulders, the knots softening even further. “I’m glad you called and glad that I called back. I don’t…God, I’m sorry, Swan.”

“I’m sorry too. You don’t absolutely hate me for just boarding a plane like that?” “I don’t hate you, no. I’d rather you not do shit like that, but I don’t control what you do. That’d be barbaric. I just like when we talk, when you don’t disappear in the middle of the night.” “I know. That was a shit move. I knew it then, and I know it now. I guess I was just upset. We’ve got – we’ve got some stuff to figure out.” “Aye,” he sighs, and she can practically see him running his hand over the hair on his chin in contemplation, “but if you’d let me, I’d like to have that conversation in person.” “Killian, you don’t have to do that.” “I think I do, darling. You’re right when we say we have some stuff to figure out, and while I don’t doubt our abilities to get things done over the phone, especially with the wicked tongue that you have, I do think I’d rather be able to see you while we’re talking these things through. I have a feeling it’s not a one-time thing kind of conversation. It’s going to be more than an hour.”

“I know.”

“And you…you want to have this conversation?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” she insists, messing with the tips of her hair simply so she has something else to focus on. “I know I said I couldn’t do this, and Killian, I’m terrified that we’re going to talk about everything and realize that we can’t work this out, but I think I was – I know that I was spiraling that night. A lot of the things I said were legitimate, but a lot of them were the fear speaking over the logic. I do that a lot”

“It’s okay.”

It’s really not. They both know that it’s not. He should tell her that it’s not, that she hurt him.

“It’s not. I love you, you know? And I know we fight, but this one felt different.”

“Aye, I know,” he admits, and she sits up on the couch, pulling herself into a ball and wrapping her arms around her knees to comfort herself. “It was different. And I love you too. I don’t…could I fly in tomorrow or do you want more time?”

“I’d be okay with tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, feeling better than she has in several days, hope settling somewhere deep inside of her.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Sound like a plan, Stan.”

Time ticks by the following day at what has to be slower than a snail’s pace. She goes into work early again, simply because she couldn’t sleep, but it’s only after she’s dropped some food off at David and Mary Margaret’s house. She knows that she’s not much of a cook, but she figures that there’s only so many ways she can mess up bringing over several frozen casserole dishes. Seriously, unless she drops them or buys them expired, she can’t mess that up. A part of her still feels guilty over missing Brody’s birth, over not being there for Mary Margaret and David when they needed her, and maybe a little of her trying to help is to assuage herself of some of that guilt. It’s not really working, but Mary Margaret’s tired smile helps a little bit.

Sometimes Mary Margaret drives her insane with her positivity and her refusal to see the bad in things, but she’s her family. Emma loves she and David – and Leo and Brody too – so damn much that she would do anything in the world for them.

Same for Ruby.

And for Killian.

She’s never had a biological family. Sure, they’re probably out there somewhere, but that doesn’t mean a thing to her anymore. She didn’t get to grow up with the family she always wanted, but she’s glad to have learned that found family is just as good. If not better.

It’s probably why this day is ticking by so slowly. She’s been up for an exhausting amount of time, and she’s anxious to be able to see Killian, to be able to talk to him, and to be able to try to work this out. How the hell they’re going to solve a long-distance relationship, she has no clue.

If Boston and Santa Monica could, like, merge somehow, that would be great. That’d be a funky climate, but that would be great.

“Have you eaten today?” Ruby asks her, startling her out of her thoughts so that she looks up toward her office door. “Because you barely eat yesterday, and Ems, you can’t starve yourself just because you and hot stuff are in a fight.”

“I ate breakfast with the Nolans.” She rolls back in her desk chair and stretches her arms up over her head, the ache pleasurable. She needs to stretch more. “Are you ever down in your office, Rubes? Don’t you have kids to counsel?”

“I am in between sessions, and I figured I had an Emma to counsel.”

Emma rolls her eyes even as her lips tug up on the sides. “I am fine, and, again, I ate this morning. But I really appreciate that you’re the type of friend to consistently feed me.”

“Food is the way to your heart,” she sighs, walking into the room and closing the door behind her. “But seriously, you okay? You’ve been all out of sorts ever since you came home on Monday.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just – we just – Killian and I did get into a fight, but he’s on a plane right now so we can talk in person. The long distance is kind of killing us lately, even with how good this summer has been to us, and I know that things are really only going to get worse with time or when Killian starts working again. He’s picking up a new movie, and I’m so proud of him. I just know that’s going to be months of missing him on top of us already being separated. It’d be different if we lived in the same place.”

Ruby raises her brows, her forehead wrinkling with the movement, before she’s neutralizing her features and looking at Emma with the softest of smiles. She’s channeling Mary Margaret. She has to be. “Have you told lover boy any of this?”

Okay, so Ruby mixed with Mary Margaret. Like a two for one deal.

“Kind of,” she shrugs, lifting her legs up to tuck them into the chair as much as she can. “I mean, I don’t really know how. We talk about it all, but it’s hard. He gave up a movie for me, you know? And I can’t ask him to do that again. It’s one of the reasons I told him to take this new one. He loves it, and he should get to do what he loves.”

“Well, if I can give you some sage advice from someone who has done long distance, it’s that you have to talk. My relationship failed, but as I’ve just learned recently, it failed when we lived in the same damn city too. Vic and I probably aren’t the best match when it comes down to who we are now, and while I don’t get to know the intimacies of your relationship no matter how much I try to get you to tell me about how wonderful the sex is, I have a good feeling about you and Killian, kid. But you gotta talk to him about some terrifying future shit if you’re going to make it work.”

“I know.” She untucks her legs from her chair so she can stand and walk to the other side of the room, wrapping her arms around Ruby in an embrace. “I really hate when you get all wise about things.”

“Well, baby mama wasn’t about to tell you the truth if you’d talked to her it all this morning, so someone has to. I also really wanted you to come get lunch with me.”

She laughs into Ruby’s shoulder before pulling back. “Yeah, let’s go get lunch then.”

-/-

Killian’s sitting outside of her apartment door when she gets home a little later than usual, the sun already beginning to fade away as it shines through the window at the end of the hall. He hasn’t seen her yet, his head still tilted down, hair falling over his forehead as he messes with his phone. He has a key. She knows that he has a key because she gave it to him, and yet he’s sitting on a disgusting hallway floor that probably hasn’t been cleaned in months. If ever. And with all of the things she knows about Killian Jones, one of the most prominent is how he doesn’t like germs or for anything to be unclean.

“You know,” she sighs, pushing the nerves down as she walks toward him, her flats tripping her up for a moment, “there’s this amazing invention called a key. If you have the right one, it lets you into certain rooms.”

His head snaps up to her, his fingers stopping their movements on his phone, and she can’t help her laugh at the way his lips part, surprise very obviously crossing his face as he stares up at her, and she knows if his hands weren’t grasping his phone, he’d be scratching his ear or his chin. It’s just how he is. “Swan.”

“What are you doing sitting on the floor, KJ?”

“Ah, didn’t feel right to let myself in.” He stands from the ground as she unlocks the door, swinging it open eve as her hands shake a bit. She’s not sure if it’s out of nervousness or excitement. “And I’ve only been here for a little while.”

“How long is a little while? Why didn’t you text me that you were here? Didn’t we just talk about this?”

“Well, two hours or so, I’d say. I didn’t want to worry you or bother you at work. If you’ve been anywhere close to how I’ve been today, you likely didn’t need extra worry. I’m, well, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but for the first time since before we started dating, I’m nervous to talk to you.”

“Killian,” she murmurs, turning around and wrapping her arms around his waist, feeling his warmth even as he takes a moment to return the embrace. But he does, his arms moving around her and his hug so tight that she swears he picks her up off the ground if only for a moment.

“I know,” he mutters into her hair, the vibrations hitting against her skin at the same time she feels his scruff scratch her neck. “I’m sorry. I can’t – I’m sorry.”

“Me too, but we already said all of that.” She pulls back from their embrace so she can look him in the eyes, the blue lighter than the last time she saw him, the darkness no longer swirling. As nervous as she’s been, as anxious as she’s been, she doesn’t think anything really compares to how she’s feeling right now. She should have known that there wouldn’t be yelling. At least yet. She should have known that talking over the phone and making a plan to talk would not have been nearly as fiery as their argument in California. Tempers aren’t hot, so of course they’re like this. It’s Killian. It’s not the others. It’s Killian. “I don’t – I don’t even know how to start.”

“Why don’t we get something to drink and move out of your doorway, and we can talk, okay?”

She fixes them two cups of coffee, the caffeine likely not going to help the nerves that are starting to build again, before they sit down on her couch, her legs curled up underneath her so she’s as small as she can possibly be. It’s silent for long enough for the silence to be awkward, and since that makes her entirely uncomfortable, she breaks it.

“I don’t know how long I can do this long distance thing.” As her shoulders heave, the words finally off of her chest in the calmness of the day, she watches as Killian smiles across from her, his lips turning into one of the brightest smiles she’s ever seen from him. “Why the hell are you laughing?”

“Bloody hell. You just blurted that out like if you didn’t say it within five seconds an explosive would go off.”

“Well that’s how I felt.”

“I know, I know,” he chuckles, waving her away. “I’ve felt the same way. You just amuse me, darling.”

“That’s because I’m so damn funny.”

“I’m aware, but you’re also right. The distance fucking sucks, and I guess I’ve been ignoring how much of a strain that it’s putting on me, which is making me ignore how much of a strain it’s putting on you. I don’t – I mean, I noticed, but I brushed it aside.”

“So did I. And we can’t really do that because then I have meltdowns over missing Mary Margaret giving birth when it really shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.”

“Hey, no, don’t do that. Don’t diminish your feelings, Swan. If I had missed Aiden’s birth, I’d have been beside myself. I realize that I didn’t react in the best way, but I’ve had time to think about it. We’ve both been missing so much of our families’ lives and our friends’ lives since we started dating. You’ve had to miss some bigger, more important moments, and, darling, I am so sorry for that. It’s not fair or easy, but I love you more than anything in the world. I will get my damn pilot’s license if it means that I get to be with you more often.”

“Captain Killian Jones has a pretty good ring to it.”

“Aye, it does, doesn’t it? Seriously, though. I love you, Emma, and I’ve got no idea what kind of timeline we’re supposed to be on, but I don’t think any of that matters. I want to be with you for a long time, and if we’re going to do this, I think one of us has to think about moving.”

And there it is.

There’s the crux of the problem. There’s the entire problem.

“I know,” she whispers, taking a sip of her coffee to give herself more time to think as she watches Killian’s face and the way his eyebrows struggle to stay still. He wants to furrow them, but he’s trying to stay still. “I love you, and I know that if we want to make it work, that we have to think about that. I just…there’s no good option, KJ. If I move to California, I leave my friends and have to find a new job. If you move here, you leave your family and friends and half of your work stuff. Plus, you’re already gone when you’re working all of the time, and Boston would probably be more of an inconvenience than anything. California is better for you.”

“And Boston is better for you.”

“So what do we do?”

Killian shrugs, and her nerves race to new heights, the realization she’s always known just reconfirming itself to her. What do they do? How do they solve this? There’s nothing that’s better for both of them, and she can’t ask Killian to leave his family. She can’t.

“I can’t ask you to leave your family.”

“I’d do it though, Swan,” he offers, placing his mug on the end table. It’s been empty for awhile, but he must have been holding onto it simply so he’d have something to do with his hands. “It’s a hell of a lot more convenient for me to move. My finances are more flexible, I don’t have to worry about finding employment in a certain city, and I can fly back to Santa Monica to be with my family whenever I need. Work for me isn’t always in LA. It rarely is. I can be based somewhere else.”

“What about your house? You love that house.”

“What about it? I can keep it. I’ll rent or buy an apartment here, maybe something down by the harbor, and that way we don’t have to broach the conversation of moving in together if you don’t want to. We can have our separate spaces.”

“Oh.”

“Unless you want to,” he interrupts, reaching his hand across the cushions until it’s placed on her knee, his fingers squeezing her skin. “I just – bloody hell, Emma. I would love to live with you, but I figured it might be too much for you at once.”

“Fuck that.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fuck that, Killian,” she chuckles, the sound leaning a bit on the sadistic side. “Killian, I know that I’m more skittish than most normal human beings, but disregarding this weekend, when have I ever run from you? I haven’t. Yes, this is all scary as hell, and I thank you for being so considerate with me all the time. But I want you to tell me what you want. I want to know exactly how you feel about things, not how you feel filtered so that you think you won’t scare me.”

He lunges forward so quickly that she doesn’t have more than a moment to prepare herself before his body is covering hers as well as his lips, her breath completely leaving her the moment Killian makes contact. It’s not at all what she was expecting, but she doesn’t mind as she gets to feel the softness of his lips, the taste of coffee lingering on them, mixed with the roughness of his beard on her. It hasn’t been that long since they last did this, only a few days really, but it feels like a lifetime.

“I want to move in with you,” he huskily whispers, their mouths still so close that they don’t completely part as they talk. His breath and his body are warm, and she sinks further into the couch cushions as she blinks her eyes up at him, that light blue turning a little darker. “I think it should be Boston. I really do, Emma. It’s not just to make you happy. I think it’s the best solution for us right now, and maybe one day in the future, we can move back to Santa Monica. We don’t have to have everything figured out, but I think this is a good step. I have been thinking about this for a long time, longer than this weekend, but I didn’t know how to say it.”

“Thank you,” she mumbles before grazing his lips again as her hands trace up and down his back, landing at the dip between his hips and his ass. She’s so damn glad that he spoke to her like that. “Thank you for telling me how you actually feel. We’re partners, okay? It’s not just about me or just about you.”

“Aye, I know. But what do you think about me moving to Boston, about us finding a place?”

“What? This place isn’t good enough for you?”

“Swan.”

“I know, I know. Deflecting.” She moves her hands over his back again, feeling just how real and how present he is even as he presses down on her with their breaths still intermingling. “I mean, I kind of like it. I still think maybe we should be super nerdy and make a pro-con list about things before we pay a deposit, and I’m kind of terrified that maybe we’ll start hating each other if we spend more than a week together with no end in sight.”

“So separate bedrooms then?”

“Definitely not. Wherever we live has to have your mattress, though.”

“That’ll likely stay in the house. We can get a new mattress though.”

“What about mine?”

“Swan, I have every intention of making good use of that mattress in about two minutes, but it either has to go burn somewhere or we keep it in a spare bedroom.”

“I’m not sure whether I want to talk about the fact that you think we’re getting a two-bedroom apartment or whether I want to talk about this whole two minute thing.”

“The two minute thing, and then afterwards, we can talk about everything else, make that damn list of yours so that you can try to convince me that Santa Monica is better for us right now even though we both know that it’s not.”

She laughs as he captures her lips again, and the sound disappears to be replaced by her gasp, everything else drowning out for a quick moment. There’s always been something so intoxicating about him, about Killian, and while some things with them are still new, there are others that feel like they’ve been doing it for years. The way he kisses her, his ability to take her breath away, that’s one of them. She hopes that it never stops, that it never changes. Life is hard, relationships likely more difficult, and it all evolves and changes over time. But maybe some things can stay the same.

Or maybe they can evolve in a good way.

“Has it been two minutes?”

“I’ve got no bloody clue, but I don’t think it even matters.”

There’s a pointed rolls of his hips into hers, once, twice, three times, before he’s actually rolling off of her, a groan emanating from the back of his throat as he stands up, his limbs obviously aching a bit. She’d crack a joke about him being an old man, but she herself feels a little lifeless pressed into the couch, the cushions molding into her body. Killian offers his hands, and she takes them, allowing him to pull her up and onto her feet before he’s dipping his head and running his lips over her wrist, something that always causes nearly every inch of her skin to stand on edge in the best way. She knows that when he does that, he’s saying he loves her. He’s never admitted that in the exact words, but she knows.

She also knows that she doesn’t have as many eloquent and thoughtful ways to express her feelings for Killian, that she tries her best, but she doesn’t have a spot to kiss or flowery words to reassure him how much he’s loved. But she does want to reassure him of that, to make sure he knows how much she is in this for the long haul too, and maybe one day she’ll get better at letting Killian know that he has completely turned her life into something not unrecognizable, but different.

In an infinitely good way.

But she’ll figure all of that out later as she tugs at Killian’s t-shirt until he’s helping her take it off, dark hair covering lean muscles now exposed to her gaze as her nail traces up and down his skin, her eyes not finding his even though she knows that he’s looking at her.

She’s taking things deliberately slowly, savoring it even though every inkling she has tells her to go faster, and apparently Killian feels the same. He’s just acting on it.

“You in a hurry there?” she asks as his hands fumble with her shirt, yanking it up over her head even with the way he’s deliciously trailing his lips against her neck. He’s eager and a bit rough, and her legs are already beginning to lose a bit of their strength.

“Yes.”

A giggle escapes her lips, her breath already uneven, and she pushes his chest to make him move away from the couch. It could work, but she’s got other ideas. “I thank you for your honesty.”

“I would thank you to stop teasing me and to get these bloody pants off.” “So impatient.”

“Again, yes.”

It’s faster after that, the two of them officially stumbling back into her bedroom, clothes hastily being pulled off and dropped to the floor. Killian’s hands land on her thighs, warm and rough, and her stomach twists in anticipation as he picks her up for a brief moment and deposits her on the mattress, his tongue constantly moving against the flesh of her collarbone while she arches her back up, their hips coming together in such a way that she and Killian both groan at the contact.

“You’re a damned tease,” Killian whispers against her lips. She can feel every inch of his skin on hers, the hair on his chest brushing against her breasts and creating friction, and she can feel how he rests heavily between her thighs, gooseflesh rising on her bare skin once more. She’s missed him. She can’t comprehend how she could miss someone so much when she just saw him, but she has. She’s missed him, and she loves him. “A bloody minx.”

“I know,” she manages to murmur right back, hooking her arms underneath his shoulders and running her nails against his back and between his shoulder blades, the muscles twitching with every touch as he grunts in response, slanting his lips over hers until she can’t breathe. She knows breathing is important and everything, but she’s okay with the lack of air for right now. She’s not going to die from it.

She might die from the way when Killian releases her, he moves down her body, tracing every inch of her skin with the softness of his lips and the harshness of his beard, a contrasting combination that causes the pleasure to increase in between her thighs. Then his mouth is on her breast, lips closing around her nipple, and she swears if magic existed, it would feel exactly like that. She needs it to feel exactly like that, especially as Killian expertly works her up, his tongue lavishing her while one of her hands bunches into the sheets and the other into his hair, likely a bit too rough.

He doesn’t stay long, though, her hand in his hair not keeping him there, and he moves down her stomach, kissing and whispering against the muscles of her skin as her entire body hums. She wants to speak, has a million words on her tongue, but all she can really focus on is Killian’s tongue on her inner thigh and the way that he’s nibbling her skin so close to where she’s aching. She’s never been the best with words, but right now she simply doesn’t know any.

Anticipation is building, his breath hot on her flesh, and with her eyes closed to try to calm herself down, it takes her a moment to realize that his mouth is no longer situated over where she wants him and is instead working its way back up her body. Every inch of hair she has is standing up, even the ones on her head, and she imagines it makes quite the look.

“What are you doing?” she whines, opening her eyes so that she’s suddenly engrossed in the deep, dark blue of Killian’s. How many colors can his eyes be in such a short period of time? They’re kind of like magic too, she guesses.

He hums, but he doesn’t say anything, his lashes landing against his cheeks before opening up again. When he runs his thumbs over her cheekbones, all of her focus is pulled away from the way that she can feel his arousal against her thigh, the heat of it likely more than the heat of her skin, but she can’t focus on anything except the softness of his gaze. It’s almost as if he’s memorizing her features, memorizing her, and she does the same for a moment, watching a freckle by his nose.

“When I first saw you on that video, I thought you were so beautiful even in that damn sweater. I can’t – I never could have imagined that you would be the love of my life.”

Well, fuck. That is not at all what she was expecting, and as the tears pool in her eyes, all she can do is kiss him, harsh and demanding mixed in with the occasional soft movement as their tongues tangle together in a warm, wet dance. She pushes him to roll over, whispering words too, and her lips trail along his skin in the same way that his did to hers, making his muscles twitch as she explores him and lets him feel how much she loves him too.

It’s like she’s breathing him in and letting instinct carry her as she moved above him.

“I love you,” she murmurs against his hipbone before she’s taking him in hand and pumping him a few times, the guttural groan he emits leisurely making its way down her body in the form of a shiver until she’s maneuvering herself above him and joining them together on a deep sigh. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

So maybe her words aren’t as flowery, but they get the meaning across.

Her hands find their way to his chest, gripping into the hair, and his land on her hips, helping to guide her as she moves up and down. Her entire body is a mixture of emotion and the haziness of pleasure, each thrust, each push and pull, each trace of Killian’s fingers over her skin making her lose herself a bit more as her stomach tightens and everything else loosens. Before she knows it, they’re moving, Killian slipping out of her for a brief moment that feels like the longest ten seconds in the world, before his body is hovering over hers, lips devouring her, and yet he stays completely still inside of her.

“KJ,” she whispers, and he pulls back to look at her, brows furrowed together as he stares at her again, “are you going to move?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just – ” He stops talking to kiss her cheek, the gesture somehow more intimate than them being joined together in the most intimate of places. “I don’t know. I got lost in my head for a moment.”

She runs her hand across his cheek, tapping her fingers against the skin while she swivels her hips for the lightest bit of friction and relief. “That’s okay if you did.”

“Aye,” he mumbles before fiercely snapping his hips into hers, her body and the bed moving with him as the pleasure resumes more quickly than she ever could have imagined, her hands gripping into the sheets and into his skin simply so that she does not turn to dust beneath him. He’s a man on a mission who’s making her get lost in her head as the bedframe creaks (they’re definitely not keeping this one) and she swears that it almost falls out from underneath them.

Or maybe that’s just her. Maybe her body is so on edge, so ready to fall, that she can do little more than listen to Killian’s whispers in her ears while her legs wrap around his waist and he continues to move with her and within her.

“Fuck,” he groans against her skin, the vibrations nothing with the way that she’s tingling. “You are so magnificent.”

She almost says thank you, really and truly, but then the coil that’s been building bursts inside of her as sweat grows all over her heated skin and Killian’s mouth whispers delicious, filthy, sweet words into the strained cords of her neck as she falls apart beneath him. Even with the slight numbing feeling that she has, her mind not fully there for a brief moment, she makes the effort to move with Killian, to let her hips swivel as his do the same. She can tell that he’s close, the flushed skin and insistent thrusts giveaways, and she tries to coax him through it, to lead him to the end even as a pleasure starts to hum within her once more.

But then he’s falling apart too, his thrusts coming once, twice, three times more, before he groans practically every filthy word she’s ever heard and lands on top of her with a gentle thud, his weight only uncomfortable for a moment as the “I love you” he whispered makes its way into her brain as well.

“We should fight more often if it’s going to be like that.”

“Shut up,” she giggles as she looks up at the smirk he’s currently got going on, his hair disheveled and face still flushed. He’s being cheeky and maybe a bit smug, and she can do nothing put push back his hair, sweat moving back with it as she makes an attempt to catch the breath that’s been so evasive today. “We weren’t even fighting today. That was more…celebratory.”

“Well, my love,” he sighs, leaning his forehead down to rest against hers, nose pushing into her cheek, “we should have this combination of makeup sex and celebratory sex more often.”

“You know, every time we fight you can’t just ask me to move in with you. That would be impractical.”

“Eh, well, I’ll figure something out. And I was so right.”

“About what?”

He moves them as much as he can, the bed squeaking with each thrust of his hips. “We’ll have to get a new bed. This one makes too much damn noise.”

#betting on the bullseye #captain swan #cs fic #cs ff

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b-rainlet · 5 years

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Hmmm can I have lunya otp questions

This took very long because I lost it halfway through so I hope you love my Answers anyway (took my like, two hours).

Fun Fact: This is actually 2k.

Which one sexts like a straight white boy?

Not to be repetitive, but….look at Luther…...look at Vanya…...and now tell me who is more likely to channel their inner fuckboy.

Vanya rarely does it though, because what good would come of texting like that? Luther has no idea how to respond in most cases.

Vanya: ‘what would u do if i was there with u rn ;)’

Luther: ‘Probably cuddle with you? I miss you.’

Vanya, already on her way to the mansion, sending a dozen heart emojis: ‘Damnit, Luther.’

(Have I mentioned? Luther is fucking clingy. He’s the kind of guy to be in the middle of a conversation with someone and just randomly go ‘I miss my wife’ before he just. Gets up and leaves).

Sometimes though, Vanya plays around with the fuckboy aesthetic and Luther is into that.

Vanya, in a snapback and a button up, pants hanging low: ‘Hey Babe ;)’

Luther, hands twisted together: ‘Don’t get a boner, don’t get a boner, don’t get a-’

(Vanya notices anyway. Vanya is also kind enough to indulge him, fucking him still completely dressed, pants falling open around her hips and boxer shorts pushed down, murmuring into Luther’s ear how cute he looks split open on her cock like that.

Luther has never come harder in his life).

Which one cried during a fucking disney movie?

Again Luther. I can see Vanya not being as touched by fictional characters because ‘it’s a show/movie’

She doesn’t get how Luther can still cry at the same scenes in disney movies even though most of the time, both of them know that it will all work out in the end, they watched this movie twenty times already.

Much like Ben, I can see Vanya having a hard time controlling her emotions, regulating them like everyone else seems to be able to do. But instead of feeling numb a lot, she just feels everything so much all the time, sometimes she feels like she’s drowning, all this anger and irritation washing over her and making her snappy and overwhelmed.

It’s a bit like a switch. One second she’s fine and the next, she’s full of rage because the toothpaste fell down.

One time, Luther woke up to Vanya crying because she realised pigs don’t have thumbs and just...broke down over that.

Some people see her and call her cold because she doesn’t seem phased by gruesome stuff on tv or tearjerker scenes, she even feels weird around sad people, not sure how to react and mostly uncomfortable (trying not to let their sadness consume her, make her cry too and ending up way too clinical), but her siblings know that she just has a little harder time processing emotions.

It’s also hard for her relationship because there are days where she’s really clingy and whiny, hanging off of Luther and prone to crying over little stuff, or talking herself into a frenzy over how she’s too ugly for Luther - Luther’s like ‘???? Have you seen me?????’ and that probably makes Vanya cry harder.

The next, she cannot stand being touched for too long, everything suffocating, even the air around her. Everything’s too loud.

Those days, she shuts herself in her room and doesn’t let Luther in, barely tolerates him in front of the door, talking to her in hushed whispers, trying to calm her down.

(Vanya probably gets some noise cancelling headphones from Five as a present or something and they actually help some).

Sometimes she wonders. Wonders why Luther keeps up with all of this. Why he doesn’t just settle for someone easier, someone who doesn’t have a screaming fit when she has a bad day and Luther forgets to put the wet towels away after showering. Someone who would never make him doubt how deeply she feels for him by being icy and throwing ugly words at him, skin itching and blood running hot.

Luther only shrugs when she asks him. “I love you.”

And that’s that.

Who put a goddamned fork in the microwave?

With this dynamic I can see Luther at least trying to keep himself in check. Like, ‘Vanya is a grown woman living alone and managing her life, she doesn’t need to feel like she has to baby me because I can’t keep myself from doing weird shit’

And then Vanya tells him - slightly drunk and all blushes and giggles - that she did the fork thing before and Luther has the sudden realization that his wife is just as much of a dumbass as he is

He’s even more in love (but also slightly jealous because he wanted to do the fork thing too).

Those two will also do so much weird shit with Vanya’s powers like, wow.

“Maybe it’s not a good idea to throw around Mum’s good china-” - “Hush Diego, this is important training.” (They use the china like a frisbee, Luther throws it as hard as possible and Vanya tries to stop it before it crashes against the wall. It surprisingly doesn’t break btw. The wall has holes now though, Luther miscalculated his strength a little).

I mean, what do you expect of the guy who rides a bicycle indoors and the girl who tried to evoke her powers by scrunching up her face and making superhero gestures?

Who does the silly hands-over-the-eyes “Guess who” thing?

Both would love to do it, but it just isn’t possible.

Luther absolutely cannot sneak up on Vanya. Under no circumstances. Vanya always hears him from a mile away and as soon as he’s standing in the doorway, she’s already looking in his direction, smiling widely.

It would be frustrating, if Vanya’s happy face wasn’t so adorable

“Do you smile at everyone approaching you like that?” - “Maybe.”

(Vanya doesn’t tell Luther that she only ever smiles wide for him, arms raised for a hug, doesn’t tell him that she’s tuned in on his heartbeat, knows exactly where he is in the house at all times).

Vanya on the other hand could technically surprise Luther but how the fuck is she supposed to reach her tree of a husband? How could she ever cover his eyes with her hands, she can barely reach his neck.

It’s annoying because they wanna be cute together but they still make it work.

Like, when they meet up, when Luther is walking into the living room and Vanya’s sitting on the couch, she just has to lightly touch her cheek, head tilted, and Luther will lean down to give her a kiss.

(How many times you wanna bet did Vanya turn her head last second to make him kiss her lips instead of her cheek? Because the answer is loads).

Also, if Vanya feels playful, she’ll help the process along a little.

Luther is walking towards her and suddenly he will feel a pull, and before he knows it, he’s nose to nose with Vanya, her powers keeping him in place as she smirks and kisses his nose.

I want Vanya to casually flaunt her powers in general and Luther is totally in awe. Vanya pulls Luther’s head down by simply tilting her head, watches as his eyes go dark before pushing him back lightly, just when he’s about to reach out to her.

(They play a little game of tag that’s mostly Luther trying to get Vanya into his arms while Vanya playfully dodges him, meets his outstretched hands with an invisible wall, let’s him work for it, before pulling him into her arms. You know, the usual superhero shenanigans).

Who puts their cold hands/feet on their partner?

Vanya. I said it before and I say it again: Luther has bad circulation. That means he’s pretty much always cold so it would make sense for him to do so but I feel like with him, it’s more like Vanya deliberately takes his hands/cuddling up to him to keep him warm, while Vanya - who rarely ever gets really cold - likes just pushing her hands under Luther’s shirt and onto his stomach, snuggling up to him still in her jacket, just stepping into their little flat and immediately pressing her cold nose between Luther’s shoulder blades. He wears so many layers, when Vanya’s freezing to the bone, even Luther feels warm.

Luther doesn’t complain, doesn’t feel how cold Vanya really is. His perception to temperatures is fucked

(One time he touched a hot plate and didn’t even notice until he saw the angry, red marks left on his hand).

Who had that embarassing Reality TV marathon?

I would like to say neither. Luther can get into Reality TV if his partner is into it and they occasionally end up watching it, but Vanya is very much a book person and if they watch anything trashy, she probably enjoys shitty horror movies (that still make Luther cuddle up to her in fear).

Other than that, Vanya loves really fucked up thrillers. Especially if they're chinese (there’s one where a girl gets killed and a bunch of other girls are so traumatized, they all grow up majorly fucked up).

Those, Vanya watches alone though. Luther tried to watch with her but he got so scared, he couldn’t sleep anymore. For at least a week.

(They had to keep a light on and Luther was fucking embarassed about it but Vanya didn’t complain).

Also, when they do watch horror movies together, they always watch something funny after. Luther is a big fan of romantic comedies. Vanya not so much.

(She thinks it’s cute when Luther gets overly invested though, loves it when he pulls her closer and kisses the top of her head when the couple on screen confesses how much they love each other.

It may make Vanya blush. A lot).

Who laughs more during sex?

Neither laugh that much. I mean, smiling and happy giggling are a given - as I would like to believe in every relationship - but I guess they aren’t as much goofy as they are emotional during sex.

Their sex is always intense because it’s always about crazy amounts of trust those two show each other, trust that had to slowly be rebuild after the apocalypse and it’s not unusual for them to cry, to let their emotions get the best of them, tears falling onto cheeks as both of them whisper love confession in the dark.

Luego is awkward conversations and funny accidents and big fights that end in make out sessions.

Benther is soft kisses and love confessions and the feeling of fingers running through short hair.

Lunya is- Lunya is Love.

Lunya is the warm feeling in your heart, looking in your partner’s eyes and thinking: ‘This. This is how it will be. This is forever.’

WHO IS THE LITTLE SPOON?

They switch. It depends on how they are feeling.

Sometimes Vanya can’t bare the pressure of someone’s arm around her, holding her down, suffocating her.

Sometimes she needs to feel in control, she needs to be able to pull Luther close, have him curl around her, trying to fit into her arms. This is hers, she won’t ever let him go.

Luther is fine in either position. He lives for making Vanya happy, and if you’d ask the little selfish part of himself, he loves how safe he feels in Vanya’s arms. Vanya could keep him safe. Vanya will keep him safe.

(Luther wants to curl up in Vanya’s arms forever).

#lunya #they are not married yet they call each other husband and wife #because they are like that

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toumakibangs · 6 years

Text

This is my family: I found it all on my own. [Part V. Christmas]

SERVICE NOTE: Here we are with the last prompts of the TouMaki Month! I’m so very sorry for the delay, but I went long with writing because of work issues and after that I’ve been without internet for a while (still am, technically)! If you’re reading this, it means that he last fics have been queued and they’re being uploaded as we speak: a post every two hours, from 3pm to 5am, CEST time. My advice is to check the blog if you don’t want to miss any, because if you’re going to browse the tags (‘toumaki month 2018’ and ‘toumaki’), Tumblr will only show you three posts per blog.

Anyway, at 7am CEST time we’ll upload a recap post featuring ALL the entries to the Month, so you can browse them more easily (I’m also saving the final Goodbyes and Thank You-s for then).

My apologies again for the wobbly schedule and I hope you’ll enjoy these last fireworks!

Prompt: “Quiet! They can hear us”

Jules’ Notes: The long-awaited conclusion of our multichaptered SingleDads!AU! :D

The package that Makishima is holding hits the doorframe with a thud and Toudou hisses.

- Quiet! They can hear us!

- They could hear us just fine even an hour ago, but I didn’t see you getting so worked up and worried over that, earlier.

- That’s a lie and you know it!

- I had to press a pillow into your face to muffle the noise.

- It was just. One. Time. Besides, this is different: I would have never wanted to get interrupted by either of our toddlers, but them hearing us during this? It’s going to ruin their Christmas, and I cannot allow it.

Makishima regards him with high eyebrows and a newly found respect.

- Neither can I. Which is why I was trying to be as silent as possible. But evidently I was not silent enough.

- Let me help. They called me Sleeping Beauty in high-school because I could move in perfect silence, especially while dealing with bicycles.

- I asked Arakita and he said they all called you Forest Ninja behind your back.

Toudou loses his composure.

- That’s so lame and absolutely not true!

- Shut up!!! They will hear us!

Toudou slaps his hand over his mouth and lets Makishima take the lead.

It’s Christmas night, Makishima invited Toudou and his child over to celebrate the holiday the Western way and right now they’re leaving tiny, wrapped-up bikes (complete with helmets and training wheels) under the tree for Sakamichi and Sangaku to find, come morning.

They’re also easing their way into a relationship that looks more and more promising as days go by. It’s not the first night they spend together, but it’s the first time they do it with the kids in the house. Said kids are currently sleeping in Sakamichi’s bed (large enough for the two of them), although not out of their own volition: they’ve tried to stay up late to meet Santa, offer him warm milk and biscuits and ask him how he manages to bring presents to all the good children of the world in one night, but sleep won them over a little before 11pm. The parents tucked them in and were planning on setting up the morning scene before retiring into the privacy of Makishima’s bedroom themselves, but someone had to drink the milk and eat the cookies, and the couch was very comfortable, and they had not indulged in some little display of affection for the whole day – so one thing led to another and it wasn’t until late into the night that they got up and retrieved the presents.

The bikes were Toudou’s idea, one that Makishima agreed with wholeheartedly: there were biking circuits at the parks they attended and paths easily accessible in the mountains that the boys would have loved to ride. Engaging in some kind of sport would have done both Sakamichi and Sangaku good, and they had been talking endlessly about bikes since the time they had crossed a bunch of cyclist during their last trip to Hakone. Their enthusiasm for the sport had skyrocketed when they had learned that both their parents were well versed in the art of road racing, and held a special interest in climbing hills. That bit of information had been a pleasant surprise for the adults too, one that had kept them up over a beer or three in Toudou’s apartment one evening when Tadokoro’s sons had invited Sakamichi and Shunsuke for a sleepover and Sangaku was spending the night with Toudou’s sister. They had attested, on that occasion, that both of them indeed sported the leg muscles of people who cycled regularly.

When the bikes are safely nestled under the lower branches of the tree, partially hidden by the garlands and shiny baubles that he and Sakamichi picked together last year to celebrate their first Christmas as a family (but still very much visible for the attentive eyes of over-excited children who are looking for presents), Makishima stands up and offers his hand to Toudou, leading him into his bedroom. He closes the door without making a sound, and gasps softly (more out of pleasure than of surprise) at the warm body suddenly pressed against his back. He trails his fingers over the toned arms loosely draped around his waist and leans back until he only has to turn his head to press his lips on Toudou’s cheek and jaw, making him shiver.

- Hello.

Toudou finds his lips again and Makishima turns into his arms to kiss him in a more comfortable position. It passed virtually no time since they snogged each other on the couch, but the privacy of a bedroom awakens even the most dormant libido and it’s not long since both of them feel the need of make things horizontal and take them onto a mattress. It’s new, this kind of longing: though a late bloomer, Makishima has always been familiar with sexual urges and the craving of an intimate touch, but while in his early twenties, also thanks to an alternate lifestyle and work environment, he’d given in to all of them and indulged in lots of sex, casual and not, now it’s different. He’s not changed in the sense that he’s lost interest in sex, but he’d had other priorities, lately, and found another kind of balance that was too precious to disrupt with flings and too demanding to leave him time for a relationship. But Toudou fitted in that balance because he had stemmed from it, falling into Makishima’s lap when he least expected it, when he’d given up on this side of his life – maybe not for good, but certainly for the time being. Toudou makes his stomach clench and his hands itch, he awakens latent cravings and sates them with an expert touch and no rush. Being with Toudou is comfortable in the way relationships while being a single gay parent never are. Their schedules don’t always match, but they do very often. They both understand when the other has to call off their planned date because his child has an upset stomach, or because the day was just too long. They don’t roll their eyes when the other ends up talking about his kid for most of the time, because they know what it feels like, needing to vent, needing a friendly ear, needing someone that knows what it’s like. Being with Toudou when it’s just the two of them behind closed doors, toddlers safely forgotten for a couple of hours, is satisfying in all the ways that count – fulfilling, even when their evenings don’t end in an orgasm. They haven’t been able to really sleep together many times, so far: there are just so many nights off a single parent can take, but Makishima doesn’t feel sappy to admit they’ve been magical. And magical is this one too, and not only because it’s Christmas.

Makishima tugs him down on the bed and kisses back, soft and pliant, and Toudou rediscovers what it means caring for someone that is not his son. Because Makishima, in a totally different way from Sangaku, rekindles his instinct to protect and care for someone else. For an adult, for an equal, for an independent human being that doesn’t really need a shelter, but you want to provide for anyway – because everyone needs a little pampering every now and then and, above all, because it makes you happy. And it makes Toudou happy indeed, to be wanted like this, to be craved for the man he is. Makishima’s hands on his body are a blessed reminder that he’s still made of flesh and blood, and that he has yet to stop giving on such department. The time they spend together with or without their sons, the laughs they share, the intimacy – he feels like a perpetually starving man whom only these things can sate. Makishima quenches his thirst and eases his mind, holds him up when he feels wobbly and shows him some colour when he feels blue. Makishima reminds him every day that being a single parent doesn’t mean being single in every sense of the word, not to mention alone. Makishima sends sparks through his body and milks it dry like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and it probably is, now that he thinks about it. And it can be even if they both are responsible for two young children with a troubled history. He sleeps better, when he does so with Makishima. He wakes up much more rested, after passing an evening or a couple of hours alone together – and it’s such an addicting sensation that he’s not ashamed to admit he’s been doing everything in his powers to keep feeling it. To make sure nights like this one can be more than a sweet exception.

They didn’t go all the way back in the living room: too risky, and maybe too soon, but they can now – and although they take their sweet time, it almost feels like release comes too soon. It always does, in their opinion. And tonight, more than ever, when they lay back after tidying themselves up (at least one positive thing about having toddlers around is that you’re never out of tissues or wet wipes), half-clothed and drowsy, they feel the bulky and quite cumbersome presence of the elephant in the room. Toudou addresses it and his doubts, but he knows he’s speaking for both of them and maybe, just maybe, he hopes that the night, on virtue of being Christmas and, therefore, holding a magic of its own, will bring the best answers.

- What do we do, now?

Makishima curls up on his left side to mirror Toudou’s stance and look at him.

- About what?

- This. Us.

Makishima sighs and rubs his face and eyes. Toudou instinctively brings up a hand to rub his arm and caress his head. Makishima holds onto it.

- I don’t know, honestly.

- Come here, please.

Makishima rolls into his embrace, but Toudou feels like he’s the one being held and supported – that’s the kind of power Makishima has on him.

- I… I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Maki-chan.

Makishima tenses and Toudou makes a shushing, soothing sound not very different from the ones he uses with Sangaku, when he fusses.

- …d-do you want to quit?

Toudou hugs him tighter.

- No. Quite the contrary, actually. Do you want to quit, now?

Makishima shakes his head, and pulls him closer.

- Not at all. Quite the contrary, if I could have it my way.

They sigh in unison, minds reeling but tension slightly dissipated now that they have implicitly stated they’re on the same page about their feelings for each other.

- What do we do, then?

Makishima kisses him, and although it doesn’t solve the issue it’s still a welcome, not to mention of fundamental importance in order to put things into perspective, interlude.

- Do you think we should tell the kids?

Toudou sighs.

- They will start asking questions, if we keep this up. Better yet, I feel that if we decide we’re being more open about this and more or less officialising it, they should know the truth.

Makishima nods.

- To be honest, I’m more worried about the reaction of all the other people who might hear about this, and how Sakamichi might respond to that.

Toudou kisses his forehead.

- I know what you mean. But it’s not like we don’t have a trusted net of friends and relatives who might have our backs and, by extension, our kids’. I can’t promise everything will always go smoothly, but I’m positive that our children will always have a safe circle of people they can rely on, and they will always know how much they’re loved.

- I really don’t want to disrupt Sakamichi’s life, right now. Or put my selfish needs before his well-being.

Toudou swallows. He’s asked himself the same thing, over and over, in the past weeks: is it being selfish, on a parent’s part, to think about their own chances at happiness?

- I know I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, if my actions directly caused Sangaku harm or distress, after everything he’s been through and after everything we’ve accomplished together.

- Exactly.

- …but I also think that kids can only benefit from their parents’ happiness. I mean… I’m better, when I’m with you. I feel better, afterwards. More energetic, more relaxed. And Sangaku notices. Because I’m better with him too. I certainly smile more.

Makishima squeezes him in an emotional display of agreement.

- If we tell the children and act transparent, spending so much time at each other’s places wouldn’t be so weird or unusual anymore.

- Indeed, it wouldn’t. Although I believe I will have to hold onto my and Manami’s apartment quite tightly: he has developed a routine and it’s given him a stability I wouldn’t have hoped for. He has improved a lot, lately.

- Me too: Sakamichi has got used to his house and his room – he likes it a lot, here, has a sense of belonging. I can’t take that away from him. Certainly not now.

They sigh again, although it has a more melancholic sound to it, now. This time, it’s Toudou who leans in for a kiss.

- It’s not ideal, but I fear it’s the best we can hope for, at the moment.

Makishima agrees and kisses back.

- We’ll make do, for now.

They are woken up by the shrill cries of over-excited children who just found out Santa did indeed leave something for them under the tree – and of course they have to tell their parents first, even if it means barging into Makishima’s bedroom and climbing both on the bed and on top of their respective fathers to jump on their legs until they’re awake. Luckily, they pulled apart during the night, and Sakamichi and Sangaku didn’t catch them in compromising positions.

They get pulled into the living room as soon as they’re awake enough to keep their eyes open for more than three seconds, and once in charge of screaming toddlers running around the sofa and the tree in anticipation, they do indeed forget everything about sleep.

The bikes elicit the intended reaction, and they spend a good part of the early morning mounting all the pieces, taking pictures and checking the weather to promise the children that yes, if they behave and agree on dressing appropriately they can go in the courtyard and try their new bolides after breakfast. Which is a loud and messy affair. But an extremely joyful one, as well.

They manage to have a couple of hours of untainted fun in the open before it starts snowing again, and although they allow the kids to play a little among the snowflakes, it’s soon clear that they’d better get back inside. There’s a little protesting, but the prospect of more presents to open and of a second breakfast made of pancakes is enough to bribe the kids into agreeing.

Sangaku and Sakamichi drew each other Christmas cards at kindergarten, and obviously prepared more elaborate ones for their fathers, full of childish love and devotion and, in Sakamichi’s case, glitter. Toudou and Makishima pretend they don’t see each other’s wet eyes as they thank their kids profusely and coddle them shamelessly.

Toudou has gifted Sakamichi a Love!Hime set of bike decorations and hat, while Makishima got Sangaku a baby-blue backpack for their excursion with tiny angel wings sprouting from the sides. As the children talk excitedly about their new possessions and enjoy the holiday, Toudou touches Makishima’s arm to get his attention.

- Actually, I have something for you too.

It’s a golden necklace that Makishima has mentioned during one of their dates. It’s at the same time perfect and absurd, because Makishima got Toudou a similar one that he, too, noticed during the same date. The instinct is to jump each other’s bones right there right now, but they can’t in front of the kids and settle for helping each other putting on their respective necklaces, although with a little more touching than necessary, maybe.

Then the kids stop playing to look at them, and ask about the presents they’ve just exchanged, because it’s weird for adults to do that, isn’t it?

It takes them just a quick glance to understand and silently agree that yes, this is it, because the atmosphere is perfect, they have the best excuse to introduce the matter and it’s Christmas, which kind of means nothing can go wrong today - therefore this is not only the right moment, but the one and only too. Toudou swallows and clears his throat.

- Sangaku, Sakamichi… – he starts, and he exchanges a pregnant look with Makishima, who smiles at him, takes his hand and nods, giving him courage. The kids look at them expectantly. Toudou takes a deep breath, but Makishima senses his uneasiness and comes to his rescue.

- Boys, there is something we’d like to tell you.

#toumaki month 2018 #submission #toumaki #julesdrenages

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jestingknights · 7 years

Text

TvT ‘Kay. Let’s talk about a timeline where Severa leads the charge back in time. Or rather, let’s just re-imagine the game with Severa in Lucina’s place. (This’ll… get long. Real long.)

Pre-Severa:

It starts when an injury of Chrom’s starts acting up. Cordelia goes out of her way to make sure he’s okay. Everyone does, actually, but there’s something yearning in the way Cordelia treats him, as if she wants him to notice her as more than a comrade in arms or a friend.

Cordelia’s efforts to get Chrom to notice her end up being noticed by the resident tactician (who thankfully, is not as dense as their friend) and they insist on helping her woo him.

Surprise, Robin is a master at this. Robin is the master matchmaker, ask anyone in the army.

Chrom is a bumbling idiot at this and doesn’t realise what’s going on at first. This was expected. Actually, Robin was counting on that, and set up several scenarios to deepen Chrom and Cordelia’s friendship.

(They actually hint to Chrom that Cordelia likes someone when things seem like they’re going well. Chrom starts to feel uneasily unhappy with that notion as time goes on, but pushes the feeling away.)

One time, Chrom asks about Cordelia’s love life.

She chokes.

He says he’d be more than happy to help her out. He says that she deserves to be happy, too.

She says it can’t ever happen because the guy she likes would never look her way.

(Chrom is more than a little upset with this. Cordelia is a beautiful, hard-working, strong, intelligent woman who cares deeply about her loved ones and always goes above and beyond. How could anyone not appreciate her?)

Then Emmeryn happens. She’s killed in the night, right in the capital. Not to mention, the Fire Emblem is stolen and Chrom managed to just barely get away with his own life, what with an assassin after him.

He’s distraught. She’s distraught. They both have lost people they consider family, but as he falls apart, she takes the time to both reprimand him (he is their prince and commander) and comfort him (losses aren’t easy, but losses shared can become lighter).

He thinks she’s absolutely brilliant in the same peaceful way that Emmeryn was. He takes extreme comfort and strength in her company as they storm across the battlefield to the Mad King.

After Gangrel’s death, after retrieving the Emblem, after they’re left alone, Chrom takes Cordelia’s hands, and asks her to marry him. He gives this whole speech on what a wonderful person she is and how he has come to trust and rely on her, and that he knows he can do better and make her happier than the man she has set her sights on because he will always love and appreciate her.

(It’s you, she thinks, it’s always been you. Don’t compete with yourself. But she’s crying too hard to say this out loud. She just throws herself into his arms. She’s too happy to properly process anything, including a tactician who was wiggling their eyebrows.)

They get married, of course. Lucina’s born within the first year, and two years later, a couple of months before being asked to Regna Ferox on the topic of Valm, Severa joins the happy family. There’s a banquet celebrating her birth. What a joyous time! Peace and family and love. The Ylissian royal family has never been happier.

…and well. By now, anyone who knows the bad future can guess where this will go. Chrom dies at the Dragon’s Table. Robin goes missing. It’s the beginning of the end.

Severa, part I:

Cordelia teaches her children to fight, although Lucina has more experience because Chrom taught her some things before he left. Lucina tries to teach Severa the royal swordplay, but Lucina has just taken to it more, much to Severa’s disappointment and annoyance. She works hard to try and master it anyway.

Severa is incredibly upset with Lucina, actually. People constantly compare her to her mother and sister. She acts tough, but it really gets to her, having two admirable figures to contend with.

She’s also both incredibly hurt and incredibly proud when Falchion chooses Lucina over her. Just another thing she couldn’t do but Lucina could. Still, her sister uses the legendary blade to save their people, and she can’t bring herself to be too upset.

(Dang, now I wanna write the Lucina & Severa sibling supports. The roach episode was probably the funniest thing to watch.)

As soon as they are able, they’re out fighting. They’re royalty, after all, they have to take care of their people.

(Even though, as Frederick points out, they should be safe and sound because they are what their people look to for strength, they can’t just sit and do nothing and if Lucina didn’t tag along (as she shouldn’t, she’s the crown princess) Severa was going to head out all by her lonesome to fight.)

They do their best to fight the Risen and Grima but…

Cordelia dies. Several Shepherds do, actually. Most of her friends have either lost their parents or are waiting anxiously for the news.

Severa inherits her lance the same way Lucina inherits Chrom’s sword. Severa keeps her mom’s stuff in her tent as they travel, along with the winged hair clips and an old book.

The children go to collect the stones of the Fire Emblem. The last one, though, the one Severa’s group was tasked with finding, is lost.

Upon arriving at Ylisstol to tell Lucina, all the children who arrived there are attacked by Grima. He mocks Severa and Lucina, saying that their parents are dead and that they would be next.

Severa falls for the taunt and charges at Grima, coming within range of his attack. Lucina intervenes and takes the hit, sustaining a severe injury.

Severa snaps back to her senses at that point and orders a retreat. The 12 heroes fall back and run with the Fire Emblem. Despite all that Brady tries, Lucina dies in transit to Mount Prism.

Lucina passes Falchion on to Severa, along with a request that Severa save everyone and an apology for leaving her, too.

Severa weeps bitterly, but when the sun rises, she helps her friends bury Lucina and they move on to Mount Prism.

As the next in line to be Exalted as well as the person Lucina pinned her hopes on, Severa asks to perform the Awakening despite only having four gemstones.

Naga refuses, not out of malice, but because you really do need all the stones.

That doesn’t make Severa feel any better. She yells at Naga. What kind of a god would let this happen to her people?! How can you just leave everyone with no hope?!

Naga mentions that there is another way, actually. With the current gemstones, she could open up a path to the past and what everyone could do is stop Grima’s revival in the first place. Severa vows darkly that if that’s what it takes, she doesn’t mind ripping apart the universe to keep the dragon from ever taking her family again.

When she comes out from the ceremony, she talks to her remaining friends. Everyone’s in agreement- they go back.

Unlike Lucina, Severa didn’t feel the need to wear a mask or disguise her gender. She did, however, feel the need to don royal clothing. Severa hadn’t before because it wasn’t fashionable except for the tiara, but gods, what does she care about that now?

(In short, I’m fairly certain she’s a Lord class for this timeline, despite everything.)

She also picks up a giant pair of glasses, much to Gerome’s discomfort. She says it’s because Lucina definitely would have picked it up in order to disguise herself if she were in Severa’s shoes.

Owain agrees but cannot in good faith let his liege go looking really stupid. Besides! How cool would it be to show up out of nowhere, donning a mask and being a hero?! He tries to pick one of Gerome’s more colourful masks, before Severa picks a butterfly mask just to shut Owain up.

Gerome does mention that since her brand is in her eye, it might be best to conceal them.

(I don’t know if I want it in her eye, but considering a scene later on, putting it where she would have to disrobe for Chrom to see seems kinda awkward. Or hilarious. She could be yelling at him for being embarrassed as she pulls off her boot if it’s on her ankle or if she starts pulling up her shirt if it’s on her belly or something. But let’s go with the eye for now. The right one, like where it would be for Inigo.)

Anyway, Severa understands that explaining her brand would be difficult, so she puts on the mask. She carries Falchion and Cordelia’s lance on her back, another sword on her hip. In her bag, the clips and ring and book rest.

The portal opens. The heroes go.

Serena:

Owain was right. She feels really cool coming out of the sky to save Aunt Lissa. Her twin pigtails flutter in the wind as she comes haughtily to the rescue.

Er, okay, she bragged a little too much. Does Father hate her now? He at least doesn’t think too kindly of the brash, mask wearing, loud-mouthed ojou-san, but she’s got sword skills. Severa’s starting to feel awkward, so she tries to leave, but not before Chrom asks her her name.

Crud. What does she do?! She panics and says, “Se… Serena. Princess Serena at your service! This -gestures at where the fight took place- is just the beginning. There’s more and worse coming… But that’s why I’m here! We’ll meet again!”

Crud. Double crud. Was that okay? That sounded a lot like Owain actually. (That would just be the OP sucking at dialogue.) She guesses it’s okay. She’s fine. They’re fine. She makes her way to Ylisstol and finds out the date.

Okay, so she can set up at a hotel somewhere for the meanwhile. She remembers the story Mother told her about how someone tried to kill Chrom. She remembers the when very clearly because Cordelia brought it up on the anniversary. If she stops it, would that help the future? Having her father in full health would help against Grima, anyway.

She brought enough gold to last her until the assassination. Hopefully.

(She tries to resist spending money on all the cute clothes. She’s here on a mission. She needs to focus on keeping Chrom alive and not that cute set of pots.)

Shoot, she’s out of money. Now what?

So she sells out as a sellsword. Merc work suits her somehow. She keeps track of time, and when she catches the eye of some Khan, she thinks she has enough of it to knock down the man talking down at her and screaming at her for being a woman and win the tournament before the assassination.

…she wasn’t expecting Chrom to be the other Champion. Oh no.

But she doesn’t back down. Even with Falchion in the fighter’s room and her own blade a dull stick compared to the her father’s legendary sword, Severa Serena refuses to lose. As they face off, Chrom starts noticing something off about the way she carries her blade. He asks her who taught her to fight like that. Serena’s answer: “My sister!”

Serena only surrenders because her sword broke in the clash against the younger Falchion. She takes what she’s got (and maybe she will sell those cute pots along the way) and makes her way back to Ylisstol.

What she did there… wasn’t too much, was it? Well, what can Chrom do even with that information? She buys a new sword when she arrives back in the capital.

She sneaks in through a hole in the wall Lucina showed her a while ago. She comes in during a conversation between Chrom and Robin and can’t stop herself from praising her dad. Gawds, he was just like the stories Mother used to tell her. But she’s here for a reason and she kills the man who dared to try and hurt her father Chrom.

She warns him of the threat against Emmeryn and reassures him that the Taguel (was that… Yarne’s mom? It had to be right?) was not an enemy.

It’s… nice, fighting alongside him. Okay, it’s stressful and weird, honestly. He helps guard the Exalt’s doors with her as Robin takes a team to charge after the leader. He also somehow recruits a thief by offering candy. (Gawds, for Naga’s sake, what the heck?!) She wishes it were under better circumstances, but time with Chrom is cherished no matter what.

(Of course, that’s not her dad. Her dad is dead. Her mom and sister are dead. They died protecting Ylisse.)

(But she wouldn’t let this Chrom join them.)

Gods, was it good to be thanked, though. After the skirmish, hearing the Exalt and Chrom thank her made her smile.

“That’s right! You should be thanking me! After all, I came all this way to help out!”

(Lucina would have refused the reward and do something humble like leave when no one’s looking, but having the positive attention really made Severa happy.)

When Chrom asks her how she knew about the plan, Serena hesitates. She waves him off saying it doesn’t matter. Ah, but if they were really feeling grateful, could she be bothered to take a bath or something? Like, that would something.

Emmeryn of course is super accommodating. But no matter how comfortable she is, Serena leaves at the crack of dawn.

Okay. So Aunt Emm didn’t die! That was actually more than she thought possible. So if Aunt Emm doesn’t die and the Fire Emblem wasn’t stolen then maybe crisis averted right? The time travelling princess could really use some downtime.

…although could she afford it? Her friends were all somewhere. Maybe Serena should go make sure everyone’s okay.

She was investigating Plegia (having heard that someone sounding a lot like Laurent had passed through investigating a rumor of a mirage village) when news came to her that Lady Emmeryn had been captured and was to be killed in the morning.

Oh Hell no! The Plegians did not just do that!

Serena rushes out to help and is met with the sight of the Exalt giving her last speech before willing walking to her death

…no. NO! Serena was supposed to have… changed this… She saved Emmeryn already! That part of the past shouldn’t have happened anyway!

She apologises to Lucina over and over again as she helps the Shepherds escape through Khan Basilio’s route. No time to think about how broken her father looked. No time to be bothered by the sight of her mother and her mount caked in mud and bleeding. Everyone just has to escape safely.

(Please! Let everyone get back safely…! she prays to no one in particular.)

They retreat to Regna Ferox. The air is stifling with grief and regret.

Although, she does admit, seeing her mother literally smack sense into her father was super amusing.

Serena offers her services to Robin and Chrom and marches out with the rest of the Shepherds. It’s satisfying learning of the deserters chanting Emmeryn’s name, and seeing her parents strike down the Mad King does her proud. How cathartic.

But now it is time to go. Serena cannot just hang around anymore. Lucina’ll be born soon. So will she. And besides, she still has to find the other Heroes, buy a new sword,and stop this bad future. No time to fool around and watch her parents grow disgustingly sweet on each other.

(Although news that Ylisse is peaceful and happy with their new princesses makes her heart swell despite the other complicated emotions that comes with.)

Severa, part II:

As she was looking for her friends, Serena heard about another plot by the Plegians to kill her father.

A slight chill settles in her- if she couldn’t prevent Emmeryn’s death, does that mean that her father would also die…?

That thought rushes her to Carrion Isle and lo and behold, who is about to get his arse handed to him via sneak-attack by a Risen? Chrom, of course.

Bad move, though. Serena may or may not have called him father when she defends him. She tries to brush it off as a mistake or something, but Chrom’s not having it and insists they talk by the riverside.

He’s not going to ask her to reveal what she doesn’t want to, though. He just. Thanks her again. Says Ylisse owes her a debt it can never truly repay.

(Lies. She doomed Ylisse once, when she got the crown princess killed. Lucina could have handled this. Cordelia could have handled this. Severa was useless. Severa couldn’t compete with her perfect mother or sister. Severa couldn’t keep her friends together. Severa couldn’t change the future, even though she was trying so, so hard.)

She’s crying. He’s panicking. Chrom walks over and takes off her mask to wipe away her tears and doesn’t understand why she doesn’t want to be thanked.

She barks at him through her tears that he was a goddamned idiot. He takes that and was about the respond when-

“I-Is that… the Brand of the Exalt in your…?”

Her breath hitches and she pushes him away and tries to leave. That’s when he notices Falchion on her back. He has so many questions but…

“Severa…?”

She’s grown really still for a moment, and Chrom worries he may have wronged her, but she nods, glumly. “Surprised you didn’t mistake me for Lucina. Not that you could. I’m sorry that she couldn’t come instead.”

Chrom doesn’t understand why she said that, but he knows more than anything that she’s hurting and crushes her to his chest in an embrace. “I’m sorry. You deserved better from me than one sword and a world of troubles.”

“G-Gosh darn right, I did! I deserved so much better than this…!” she wails, clinging to him and sobbing like a child, complaining but also apologising incessantly.

Gods, when was the last time she was allowed to do this? When Lucina died? When Cordelia died? That felt like a lifetime ago.

She’s muttering under her breath how everyone deserved so much better than this. Owain, Yarne, Inigo, Brady, Gerome, Laurent, Cynthia, Nowi, Kjelle, Noire, Lucina… Lucina definitely deserved better.

When Chrom apologises again, she just cries harder.

It’s not his fault, it’s hers. It all her fault and Chrom did the best he could. Both versions did.

After she calms down, she mumbles an apology and says that it was His Highness’s fault for provoking her, blushing fiercely. Chrom laughs, saying she doesn’t have to call him that, and then sobers up when she says calling him what she wants to will only make it harder if he dies. Not that she has any intention of letting that happen!

That’s the scene Robin and Cordelia walk in on. Chrom is met with a rather despondent wife who is crushed by the notion that he’s lost interest in her already.

Even like this, Severa can’t handle how upset Cordelia looks and quickly remedies that by announcing herself as Princess Severa, time-traveler here on a mission to save the world, challenging the pegasus knight to look her in the eyes if she doesn’t believe her.

And when Cordelia mentions she can’t believe the time travelling thing, Severa reveals Cordelia’s trash taste in books and other embarrassing details she learned from being raised by her.

Cordelia accepts Severa’s story quickly so that Chrom doesn’t have to hear more.

When she approaches Severa, though, Severa is incredibly stand-offish. There’s no hugs to be had with her. …yet.

Congratulations, Robin, you’ve just recruited Severa! Who informs you that there are several other heroes like her that need to be found.

There’s still time before they sail to Valm so they go looking and find Yarne, Laurent, Nah, Noire, Kjelle, and… Morgan?

(She’s utterly confused by this. Morgan was the youngest of them and went missing even before Grima had ever plagued Ylisse. When she hears that they can’t remember anything and had no idea that they had even travelled through time, her heart breaks. What could have happened to them? What couldn’t she save them from?)

Robin pulls that gosh darn clever move that sets Fire on the Water and they cross to the continent of Valm and the rest of the 12 Heroes joins the Shepherds through various shenanigans.

Severa was NOT happy to see everyone safe and sound and she was definitely NOT crying, shut up.

The rest of the campaign is the same and the Conqueror is vanquished.

They head off to Plegia and…

Needless to say, Severa is PISSED when Robin steals the Fire Emblem and gives it to Validar.

She holds it in in front of Chrom, but the moment they’re alone, Severa is threatening Robin with the tip of her mother’s lance drawing blood from their neck.

HOW DARE THEY?! Wasn’t Chrom their best friend?! Now all the stories Cordelia once told her made sense! How could one of Chrom’s best friends kill him? If they could be used by Validar!

She tells them to their face that they’re a liability and that they should be killed. It doesn’t really matter how they respond because Severa will move to act on it that thought regardless… Only to get cut off by Chrom.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” he roars.

“NO!” she screams back. “You don’t understand the future I’ve lived through!”

“We can change that future, Severa! Together, we can-”

“You don’t get it! You don’t get it at all! Working together didn’t save you or Mom or Luci! You all died and left me to handle this! Well, guess what! I’m handling it!”

She moves to go after Robin but Chrom draws and the two fight until Cordelia comes to calm things down. …and by that, I mean that Cordelia threw herself in front of her husband. Luckily for her, Severa is great at everything and has perfect control and stopped not an inch from a bad hit.

Severa throws her lance down in frustration and has to listen to Chrom give her a speech on how her heart is in the right place, but nothing could be done to shake his faith in Robin. Severa concedes angrily and insists that they not be left alone if only for her sanity. Chrom is forced to at least promise to be okay.

(He won’t be, she thinks, he’ll die again and I’ll be forced to watch this time.)

And boy, isn’t she absolutely distraught when it looks like Robin once again killed Chrom. She’s just about to decapitate them when it turns out to be a big ploy. Surprise! And relief comes in and nearly drowns her.

Validar dies but the future Robin who had come after the Heroes reveals themselves. Severa wants to throw up. In trying to save the world, did she just doom it AGAIN, she thinks as they eat the souls gathered at the table. Grima is revived.

On the way to Mt. Prism, Severa and Chrom have a Talk. About Severa and the future she came from. Of her short comings and his failure to be a father. They talk and cry and apologise.

He promises her that he won’t let her future happen. She isn’t sure what to believe in, but she’s willing to put her faith in him.

She also has a chat with Mom. It goes… reasonably (read: she also bursts into tears there).

Chroms performs the Awakening at Mt. Prism. Naga also asks for Severa to do so.

…what? And Naga explains that she wishes to complete what had been left off before. Severa says she cannot even use Falchion, there’s no real point, but Naga insists and despite everything, she also performs the Awakening.

(The one thing she could do that Lucina could not. …though Luci probably could if she were alive.)

They head off to kill Grima. Naga launches the Shepherds up onto his back after mentioning a particularly nasty detail to Robin.

Severa’s feelings on the matter are a little complicated and made even moreso when Robin tries to protect everyone from Grima after dark magic nearly kills everyone.

“What happened to fighting together and all that sap about invisible ties?! Robin, if you don’t come back here and fight this damn dragon, I’ll never forgive you!”

Robin hears their friends calling for them and manages to bring themselves back on Grima’s back. The real fight begins.

While Chrom and Robin charge ahead, Severa is tasked with clearing away enemies that might distract them from their goal. During the skirmish her mother’s lance finally breaks on her. She’s distressed for a minute before a Risen goes after her father. Again. It’s at this point that Severa draws Falchion for the first time and slices through the Risen with ease.

From here on out, she slaughters the Risen using the holy blade.

The fight’s going well when suddenly she hears Chrom screaming. She panics and looks over to see Robin disappearing with the wind. It would be after they get back to Yllistol that she gets confirmation of Robin’s actions.

She mourns all the losses along with her father, and goes out with him and Lissa and Frederick and Cordelia to search every field in the world for Robin, who, after a long time of searching, does come back.

And there’s a great feast and banquet and all is well! The prince is Newly Exalted and there’s much joy and celebration in the land.

The 12 Heroes all choose a path to follow- some choose to stay in this time, some return to the future.

Severa was going to leave but she really wanted to see baby Lucina and her family be happy to check out some of the new products that a wartorn world couldn’t make. Like, have you ever seen a dress so cute?!

She does leave after a year or so, though, if only because she has a duty to help those Lucina had entrusted to her. Tiny!Lucina cries as she waves good bye to the older Severa, Chrom and Cordelia and Severa all also holding back tears. (Tiny!Severa is more upset that her sister is upset and tries to get Severa to stay. How cute.)

Severa returns to the destroyed Yllistol and gets to work restoring her country and helping her people, refounding the pegasus knights and becoming the new head of the Shepherds.

Owain, Cynthia, Inigo, Kjelle, Gerome, and Brady have all decided to join her in her efforts as they had all, for some reason or another, decided to return to the future as well.

All is fine as the restoration of Ylisse goes swimmingly when Severa hears a mysterious summons…

Selena

To Be Continued (Maybe)

#self-indulgent #long post #fire emblem awakening #severa #one day i intend to write out a full fic of this #for now #if i'm in the mood i might write a conquest or revelations selena with this backstory #imagine #jk rambles

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jaskiersbard · 7 years

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Stitch by Stitch (Part 2) - a Newt/Tina fic

Tagging: @pinkdiamonddolphin

A part of me didn’t want to publish this part – I don’t feel my writing is as good as some of the other Newtina fanfic writers, as I’m sure you’re all aware, but I felt like I had to post it anyway because I don’t like leaving things unpublished.

Phoenix – 22nd June 1931 – 9 (going on 10) Linnet – 13th January 1933 - 7 (nearly 8) Leo – 3rd March 1935 – 5 (going on 6)

(Miracle baby not born yet – Tina’s still in her early-stages of pregnancy!)

Tobias “Toby” – 15th October 1929 – 11 Daisy – 7th April 1931 – 9 (going on 10) Abel and Ruth (twins) – 20th November 1933 – 7 Elijah “Eli” – 28th January 1939 – 1 (nearly 2)

The Healers of St. Mungo’s had hurriedly rushed Tina away, Newt following closely behind as he talked a mile a minute over what he knew regarding the situation.

“…She’s pregnant,” He found himself repeating over and over again, voice cracking. “She’s about four months along. She’s been having morning sickness nearly every day, a-and she’s not been eating…”

“Mr Scamander, please,” One of the Healers said calmly, raising her brow at him. “Let us do our jobs and everything will be fine.”

Newt highly doubted that but he knew he had no other choice – with that in mind, he fell silent and watched as the Healers started casting various charms and spells on his wife.

Merlin, please let our baby be okay, He found himself think desperately, The baby has to be…surely they will be.

The tests had lasted a few minutes and then the Healers had left the room to confer over their notes; Newt immediately sat down beside Tina, taking her hand and squeezing tightly.

“Newt,” She choked out, and her hand squeezed back weakly. “I…I’m sorry. I don’t…I couldn’t…I didn’t mean to…”

“No, don’t talk like that,” He murmured, resting his chin on top of her head as he pulled her to him. “The baby will be fine, I expect, and so will you. We have to wait and see.”

Tina sniffed. “I’m fine, but…but the blood…oh God…if the baby’s not alright-”

“Then don’t blame yourself,” Newt interrupted soothingly. “Tina, love, if…if something is wrong then it won’t be your fault. I promise you now that, no matter what, you’re not to blame.”

“I tried to eat,” She said miserably. “I tried but it kept coming back up, and…and I’ve been so stressed at work, and…and I’ve probably hurt the baby now. I-I’m so stupid…”

His heart ached in his chest at her words; he was worried (and he’d admit to it this time, sometimes worrying was inevitable) and even terrified that something was wrong with their unborn baby, that perhaps things wouldn’t be as lovely as they had hoped. Having said that, there was no way possible he could ever blame his wife for this; she was a giver by nature, and she gave as much as she could all the time – but sometimes it was possible to give too much, to give so much and not think of looking after oneself.

“Don’t blame yourself, please, Tina,” Newt managed, exhaling heavily. “You’re far from stupid, love; you just lost track of things, that’s all. Besides, we don’t know anything yet – we’ll wait for the Healers to come back before jumping to rash conclusions.”

When Healer Monroe entered, this time without her colleagues, she closed the door behind her and gave the couple a tight smile – and Newt’s stomach lurched because usually that kind of smile signified bad news.

“Mr and Mrs Scamander,” Healer Monroe greeted. “Hello. I’ll get right down to business, shall I?”

“Please,” Tina agreed, voice barely louder than a whisper. Newt found himself clutching her hand even tighter, his body stiffening with tension.

The Healer conjured a seat before sitting down opposite them with her folder resting on her knees. “Now, we’ve run a few tests to check on what may have caused the bleeding – thankfully, you don’t appear to have lost a great deal of blood at all, and we won’t have to consider any transfusions of any kind-”

“And the baby?” Newt interrupted hurriedly – perhaps it would be viewed as a tad rude to do such a thing, but in that moment he found himself not caring a bit. “Is our baby alright?” Tina tensed beside him, her breath catching in her throat.

To their surprise, Healer Monroe offered them another smile. “Yes, your baby is perfectly fine.”

“Perfectly fine,” Tina repeated dubiously. “And…that’s definite?”

“Oh, yes,” The Healer agreed, nodding her head. “Very healthy, very strong heartbeat…no abnormalities whatsoever.”

Newt couldn’t believe his ears, relief flooding over him. “They’re fine? Thank Merlin for that… But the blood-”

“Sometimes spotting can happen,” The older woman assured him. “Pregnancy often means that there’s more blood in the body than usual, so some light bleeding is relatively normal… However, Mrs Scamander, it’s important that I stress to you how close you could have been to losing your baby.”

“Oh.” His wife’s shoulders sagged. “I see.”

Healer Monroe just sat back in her seat, studying the two of them. “Your pregnancy is very high-risk as it is, Mrs Scamander, considering the diagnosis we gave you a few years ago regarding your fertility – the fact that you’ve managed to conceive at all now is a miracle, let alone that your baby is as healthy as they are. Now, tell me, you work as an Auror – correct?”

“Yes,” Tina admitted quickly. “But I haven’t been doing anything dangerous at all – just deskwork and…and things.”

“I see. And has there been anything else that might have caused you stress?”

“Well…” She hesitated, and Newt found himself watching her curiously. “My boss at work is…he can be difficult to be around. He shouts a lot.”

The Healer nodded. “Yes, that’s not at all good for your health – and if it’s not good for yours then it’s not good for the baby’s either. Of course, stress doesn’t appear to be the only reason – you’re severely underweight, Mrs Scamander, considering how far along you are.”

Tina went bright red. “I’ve tried eating,” She defended. “I have, but I can’t keep anything down – the morning sickness is awful.”

“Then you should have come to us sooner,” Healer Monroe sighed. “We could have given you something for your nausea in no time… Well, that hardly matters now. We’ll keep you in overnight, just to monitor your health and the baby’s, and then we’ll send you home with an Anti-Sickness potion so that you can eat something properly.”

“I can’t stay the night,” She disagreed. “I have work tomorrow morning.”

The Healer frowned then, clearly displeased. “Mrs Scamander, with all due respect, I don’t think you should be working while you’re pregnant.”

Newt winced to himself – he already knew how Tina would take this. Perhaps it would be better to remain silent on the subject, he reasoned, to not side with either of them and cause more stress or tension in the room.

“How dare you?!” His wife seethed half-heartedly, though it was clear she was tired. “I am more than capable of working, thank you very much! I’m not even due until May, that’s still five months-”

“You nearly lost your baby tonight,” Healer Monroe reminded her seriously. “I understand that it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s my advice from a professional point-of-view that it would be far safer to stop working until the baby is born.”

Sure enough, this made Tina fall silent; her hand was still holding his, somewhat limply, and he squeezed it again to reassure her. “We’ll talk it over between us,” Newt promised softly, directing it at both Tina and the Healer.

“Yes, it’s a matter you two should discuss privately,” Healer Monroe agreed. “At the end of the day, I cannot force you to take an early leave, Mrs Scamander, only offer my advice. Now, one of my colleagues should be around shortly with an Anti-Sickness potion so that you can attempt some more sleep. Mr Scamander, if you’d like to stay-”

“I can’t,” Newt interjected before he could stop himself. “Not really; we left our children with Queenie and Jacob – that is, our brother- and sister-in-law. I don’t suppose I can really leave them without any word really…”

“Well, that’s your decision. I’ll be back later to check you over, Mrs Scamander – do try and get some rest.”

They muttered their goodbyes as the Healer left the room – once the door had shut, however, Tina was groaning and pressing her hands against her face. “I’m an idiot, Newt; I let Crawford of all people get to me. I let him stress me out, and now-”

“And now you’re stressing again,” Newt pointed out; when she didn’t look comforted in the slightest, he wrapped an arm around her. “Everything’s fine, Tina - you heard her: the baby is perfectly healthy. There’s no need to torture yourself over this.”

“But I nearly…” She stopped, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I…I nearly killed our baby, Newt – after how difficult it’s been to even get here, I nearly killed them…”

“Stop, Tina,” He said firmly, his hold on her tightening involuntarily. “You haven’t done anything wrong – it’s just stress.”

Tina nodded, somewhat tearfully. “Yes, stress – I’m stressing and putting the baby in danger.” She gave a heavy sigh. “I…I don’t want to stop working, I really don’t, but if it’s going to put the baby at risk…”

“It’s your decision,” Newt told her softly – he couldn’t force her to do anything, of course, for it was her job and her carrying their baby, after all. “Whatever you choose, Tina, I’ll stand by it.”

“I know you will,” She agreed, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

Neither of them said anything else – they didn’t need to really.

“So…how is she?”

Newt gave a shrug. “Fine, really – you know that already though, I suspect.”

“Yes,” Queenie agreed. “But I’d like to hear you say it – I been worried about her all night.”

Understandable. “They kept her in last night,” He explained quietly, only too aware that the children could come down the stairs at any minute and overhear. “Everything’s fine – Tina’s absolutely fine, and the baby’s more than healthy.”

The blonde witch let out an exhale of relief. “Oh, thank goodness! I was worried, see, since…well.” She hesitated, and he didn’t have to be a mind-reader to know that she was remembering the heart ache of losing a baby years ago – he knew better than to comment on it. “I’m glad she’s okay, though; the kids have been worried sick about her all night – especially Leo.”

“Ah.”

“They’re still sleeping,” She continued, putting on a rather half-hearted smile. “I put the boys in the spare room – Linnet was more than happy bunking with Daisy. So, is Teen still at the hospital or…?”

Newt shook his head. “No, no, they released her this morning after giving her some Anti-Sickness potion. She’s gone to work.”

“To… You let her go to work?!”

“It’s hardly my choice whether she goes to work or not,” He reminded her dryly – but his shoulders sunk slightly. “She won’t be working much longer – she’s decided to take an earlier leave than planned, if only for the baby’s health.”

Queenie looked rather relieved to hear that. “Of course…she’s putting the baby first,” She said aloud, and he realized she was skimming through his mind again. “She…She ain’t happy about it.”

“No. I think she feels rather…well…”

“She was worried last night,” She murmured, and her eyes seemed to grow teary. “Oh, Newt, honey…she really blamed herself like that?”

He looked down at the floor. “Yes. She did.”

“Oh, Teen… We’ll come visit tonight,” Queenie promised. “Once Jacob gets home, we’ll come over to yours; Teenie and I can have a chat, talk things over. Would that be okay, Newt?”

“Of course,” Newt agreed, looking up and giving her a somewhat forced smile. “You and Jacob are always more than welcome to come over.”

She studied him for a moment, obviously reading through his mind, before reaching out and putting a tentative hand on his arm. “Newt, honey, I’m sure Tina will be okay. I know that this was frightening – I know what it’s like,” She reminded him sadly. “But I think Teen will be more than okay, and so will the baby. Don’t fret too much.”

If only it were that easy.

It was with great trepidation that Tina found herself knocking on the open door to Crawford’s office the following afternoon, heart hammering in her chest and stomach fluttering nervously.

He lifted his head at the sound of her knock and gave a great sigh. “Scamander…can I help you?”

“I…I need to talk to you, sir,” Tina muttered quietly, stepping into the room.

He gave a nod. “Sit down then.”

She linked her hands together over her slightly swollen stomach as she sat down and took a deep breath, preparing herself. “Alright…sir, I…I have a request to make.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “A request?”

“Yes. See, the thing is… I’m four months along,” She started nervously. “I’m not due until May, and my plan was to go on leave in April – to continue working until then. I was more than happy with that plan when I gave in my notice, and I would have been happy to continue like that but…but the thing is, I think it’s best if I leave earlier.”

“Earlier?” Crawford repeated.

“Yes, sir…as in within the next few weeks.”

His eyes narrowed. “A few weeks?! What in Merlin’s name are you playing at, Scamander?”

Tina squared her shoulders, forcing herself to look him in the eye. “The Healers at St. Mungo’s have suggested I take an early leave because this pregnancy is high-risk – there was an incident just a couple of nights ago where I nearly…well.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “The stress is putting the baby at risk, and I need to think about the baby first – I know this is far from convenient, and I respect that, but-”

“Scamander.” She stopped speaking, looking at him and gnawing her lip; it didn’t surprise her that he looked positively livid. “You want me to approve you going on an early maternity leave, is that it?” She nodded uneasily. “You honestly expect me to approve of you going on leave four months early?”

“It’s not that I want to go on leave,” Tina defended hurriedly. “I would happily work until my due date, but the baby has to come first – I’m not about to put my baby at risk.”

Crawford sat back in his seat, glaring at her coldly. “There is a war going on as we speak – if our Aurors aren’t in Europe fighting Grindelwald’s forces, they’re here trying to keep the peace and protect the citizens…and you have the audacity to ask to go on a paid leave early?”

“Sir-”

He raised a hand to silence her again. “A part of me is tempted to dismiss you completely from the department, to make you pack up your things and leave.”

Tina froze, and it seemed as though the world were about to crumble all around her at his words.

“You probably think I hate you – I don’t particularly like you, Scamander, but the thing is…well, you’re one of the few members left on the Senior Team,” He admitted, somewhat grudgingly. “And you are adequate at your job – even I know firing you would be a bad idea.” Crawford sat back in his seat, looking down at the table thoughtfully. “I won’t fire you, and the Ministry has a law in place that means you get paid for at least half a year – but do not expect any favours. Your leaving puts us in an even more precarious position than we’re currently in, and we’re not going to tiptoe around the matter just because you’re pregnant. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” She agreed quickly, though she wasn’t quite sure what was happening really.

“You can go on leave,” Crawford continued, looking as though he greatly regretted what he was saying. “But your status will be as a consultant in the meantime – that means you’ll be doing some work at home. There’ll be owls, I’m sure, wanting advice or for you to fill out some paperwork based on a case-file – that’s your responsibility.”

It was almost too good to be true, Tina thought to herself – but she didn’t dare question it, instead nodding in agreement. “Of course, that’ll be more than fine.”

Crawford gave a curt nod of his own in response. “Wonderful,” He muttered dryly. “You’ll remain here in the offices until the end of the week, and then you’ll start in your new position next Monday. Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Good,” He told her, straightening up in his chair. “Now: get out of my office.”

“You know, Teenie, things could have been much worse-”

“I know that.”

“You’re still miserable.”

Tina sighed, shaking her head as she finished preparing food for the Occamys. “I’m fine, really – I got off lucky. He could have actually fired me.”

“Then why are you so sad?” Queenie asked, folding her arms. “Don’t lie to me, Teen – I’ll know.”

“Yes, that’s true. Alright,” She relented, turning to look at her sister. “I’m just…I like working, even with a guy like Crawford breathing down my neck every few minutes. I get a real kick out of working, even if I’m just helping in a house raid. I’m glad I’m not fired, don’t get me wrong, and I do want the best for the baby-”

“But you’re gonna be bored,” The blonde witch finished, and she looked sympathetic. “I know, Teenie – it ain’t gonna be fun, having to wait for owls at home and not actually doing much, but it’s for a real good cause.”

Tina nodded, though she didn’t look at all comforted by this. “I know that, Queenie, and that’s the only reason I’m doing this – if it didn’t put the baby’s health at risk, I’d carry on doing assignments as normal.”

“You gotta be careful,” Queenie stated, and she put a hand on her sister’s arm. “Teen, this baby’s a real miracle, remember? You don’t wanna risk losing a miracle, honey. It’s…it’s awful.”

Of course, that’s why she’s so worried, Tina thought to herself, and she felt rather terrible for not realizing sooner; She knows what that’s like, after all.

“Oh, Teen,” Queenie sighed, shaking her head at her sister’s thoughts. “Don’t be like that. I ain’t offended that you didn’t think about me first – you had more than enough on your mind. Anyway,” She said brightly, changing the subject. “This kinda talk ain’t doing neither of us any good – you should be sitting down too.”

“I’m more than capable of feeding baby Occamys,” Tina muttered dryly, a fond smile spreading across her face. “I do it pretty much every day – it’s like feeding children.”

Actually…they kind of are children to us in some ways, she thought to herself.

Queenie giggled to herself in amusement. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Let me see now…where’s the monkey?”

“On your back, Papa!” Ruth shrieked, laughing to herself.

“Look, Uncle Jacob,” Linnet called. “Just behind you!”

Jacob pretended to look clueless, though the grin on his face gave him away; Eli giggled from his perch on his father’s back, hands clasped tightly around his neck and legs tight around the torso.

“I don’t see no monkey,” Jacob fake-pondered. “Are you kids playing with me?”

“No!” Leo disagreed eagerly. “Monkey on your back!”

Newt found himself chuckling under his breath as he watched from the distance; the sight was remarkably similar to how Dougal had clung to Jacob in the department store in New York all those years ago, and the whole game was rather amusing to observe.

Jacob was still looking about the case, pretending to be puzzled, when Eli let out another peal of laughter – and he grinned widely to himself. “Ah-ha! There is a monkey on my back!”

“We told you,” Daisy stated, beaming so wide that her cheeks were hurting. “We told you he was on your back, Papa!”

“C’mere!” Eli cackled with laughter as Jacob reached around and lifted the toddler from his shoulders. “I knew it! I knew there was a little monkey back there!”

“P-Papa…tickles!” Eli shrieked happily, wriggling in his father’s arms. “S-S-Stop!”

The rest of the children were soon joining in, fingers tickling the boy as he cried out in weak protest; this continued on for quite some time, much to Newt’s amusement, and it was only when Linnet announced that she’d seen Dougal wandering about that all of them set off to search. Eli was positively red in the face as Jacob put back down on the ground, still shaking with laughter, and he was soon occupied by the sight of a pair of young Graphorns playing nearby.

“Hey, buddy,” Jacob started as he approached. “You sure you don’t need any help? I don’t mind, honest-”

“No, no,” Newt assured him, smiling fondly. “I must say, you’re doing a marvellous job keeping them all entertained – usually around this time of year Phoenix and Linnet get rather restless…the excitement of the holidays and all that…”

“Yeah, it’s a game we play all the time back at home,” His friend chuckled. “Ruth calls Eli, ‘Monkey’ all the time, ‘cause he moves around so much – kid’s got a real habit of climbing up on furniture too – and it’s starting to really stick. Kids love it.”

Newt turned back to the adult Graphorn he had been checking over, still rather amused. “We do the same thing down here all of the time – though I’m usually an Erumpent giving them a ride.”

“Ah, man… I’d pay to see that.” Jacob affectionately patted the Graphorn on the head, not even wincing when it tried to salivate on him. “Yeah, good to see you too… Say, Newt? How many these things you got now?”

“Well… Bertha – this one,” He gestured to the Graphorn he was currently caring for. “She’s expecting another baby soon, so that’ll be her third. Once she’s had that one, providing things go well, that’ll make eight.”

Jacob looked somewhat surprised. “Eight? I thought there’d be more.”

“Well, unfortunately a few have passed away,” Newt admitted, and he felt himself sadden at the thought. “Old age, mostly, though one did have a rather incurable illness that I couldn’t…well. It’s rather difficult to breed them, seeing as there are so few in the world left – most of them are in this case.”

“Oh. Oh, well, I’m real sorry to hear that,” Jacob said sincerely – and Newt knew he really meant it. “Listen, buddy, Queenie and I wanted to thank you for inviting us ‘round for the holidays; it means a lot to us, you know? This is gonna be our first Christmas and Hanukah over here, and we wanted it to be special for the kids…”

“It’s fine,” The Magizoologist assured him without hesitating. “Really, Jacob, when you think about it, you’re family. Besides, I know Tina and the children are looking forward to you spending the holidays with us too.”

The other man looked touched by this. “Thanks, Newt. Queenie and I, we was actually kinda worrying over how our first holidays over here was gonna go, especially since the kids have only ever spent them in New York, you know? We don’t exactly know our ways around the stores or anything either, so…”

“No, Tina and I are more than happy to help on that front too,” Newt agreed, and he grinned at his friend. “Just let us know when, and we’ll plan a little trip to Diagon Alley soon; we can find just about everything there.”

Jacob thanked him again and seemed to be even more animated as he set off to find the children once more; Newt watched him go, and despite the rather stressful time he and Tina were going through currently, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat warm at the thought of the entire Kowalski family joining his own for the holidays.

As it turned out, Hanukkah and Christmas taking place at the same time was not particularly easy to navigate.

In the previous years, Hanukkah had fallen before Christmas and so given the family time between the holidays – but because the two were taking place at the exact same time, it ended up being somewhat more difficult to organize how to celebrate. To add to this, there was the question of whether the entire Kowalski family would be staying overnight or not; Newt and Tina had agreed that they didn’t mind the house being crowded, but Jacob and Queenie had both declined.

“I think it’s for the best we spend it in the new house,” Queenie said to Tina quietly just a few days before the first night of Hanukkah. “Besides, we can come over in the evenings to light the menorahs, and then we’ll come over on Christmas early.”

It had all been worth it in the end, though; the Kowalskis came to the Scamander home shortly before nightfall on the first night, Queenie and the children with their menorahs. While Newt and Jacob set about making dinner (cooked in olive oil, of course, as was custom), Tina, Queenie and all of the children grouped together in the front room in order to light the first candle on each of their menorahs together as they recited Full Hallel. The younger children – such as the twins and Leo – were carefully watched and helped, of course, and while Eli was currently too young to really celebrate he did watch curiously.

Dinner had started to become slightly more difficult to prepare with each year that the war went on, especially due to the rations, but somehow it was manageable to create a satisfactory meal. The real highlight, of course, had been when Queenie pulled out her wand and made jelly doughnuts in the air above everyone’s heads – Jacob was momentarily stunned at how fluid it looked, even after so many years, and the children found great amusement in his facial expression.

After dessert, the children settled down to play a game of dreidel in the front room; to everyone’s amazement, Abel and Ruth (working as a team, of course) were the winners and so won the pot of chocolate gelt between them. The children wanted to play another game (for Toby and Phoenix were certain that they would win the next game), but because it was already starting to get rather late, Jacob and Queenie were adamant that they return home.

“You guys don’t wanna miss Santa, do you?” Jacob asked excitedly. “Yeah – come on, guys, we can leave Santa some babkas and milk.”

Once they had left, Newt turned to his own children and grinned at them. “Alright, you three – Santa will be arriving in England soon, and you need to be asleep when he comes to visit.”

“But I wanna play another game,” Leo yawned, swaying on the spot. “Wanna win.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Newt began, reaching out and taking his youngest son by the hand. “We’ll invite everyone over tomorrow very early so you can play – and I’ll play with you this time, if you want.”

Phoenix smirked to himself. “Don’t listen to Dad, Leo, he’s awful at spinning it: at least Mum knows how to spin it properly.”

The children were relatively easy to get into bed, however, going rather willingly with the promise of Christmas and seven more days of Hanukkah in the future; Leo was asleep before his parents finished tucking him in, and Phoenix just smiled tiredly as he said goodnight. Linnet seemed slightly more excitable, complaining that she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but Newt managed to coax her to try by promising that Dougal could come up from the case soon to visit. She seemed appeased by this and allowed him to tuck her in without any more fuss.

To his surprise, Tina had fallen asleep on the sofa by the time he came downstairs from Linnet’s room; part of him wanted to just leave her to rest, for he knew how exhausted she was. The other part, however, knew that she’d have a far better sleep in their bed upstairs.

“Come on, love,” Newt murmured, gently shaking her awake so that he didn’t alarm her suddenly. “I think it’s time we both went to bed and got some rest.”

Tina murmured something groggily but allowed him to pull her into a standing position; she gave a yawn as she left the room, and he couldn’t help but frown to himself as he thought about how exhausted she looked.

I hope this new year is easier for us, He mused to himself sadly, and he couldn’t help but think of Theseus; just this time last year, Theseus had been celebrating Christmas with his own wife and children, alive and well. Margaret and the girls were celebrating with their parents this year, he knew, but it made Newt’s chest ache when he thought about it.

Deep down, he strongly suspected his brother wasn’t going to be home for another Christmas – but he couldn’t say that. He had to remain strong, had to keep positive and not worry.

Newt sighed and silently waved his wand to turn off all the lights as he left the room; the candles of the menorahs by the window remained lit, burning bright throughout the night.

Fun fact: there was a much more depressing draft where Crawford fired Tina – but I couldn’t do that to her. She’s suffering enough.

I really struggled writing the Hanukkah bits because I’m not Jewish and so I’m not well-acquainted with the traditions – especially of the time period this is set. I hope I did an okay job. I didn’t write every single night of Hanukkah as, again, I’m not completely sure about the traditions/what’s custom on those nights. Everything I’ve written is based on what I’ve read online and from other people (who are Jewish)

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