[day 17] yummers

💛💫 1000 DOWNLOAD CELEBRATION 💫💛

Thank you for 1K downloads!! To celebrate, we've put together a little surprise. This will be the first installment of 3-- we hope you enjoy!

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Art by @minthe-drawings

Upper Hand

By Cath, editing by @crescencestudio

You lay sprawled out across the bed, comfy in your pajamas as episodes of your current guilty pleasure played. It was a crappy reality TV show. Meaning it was bad, trashy, very un-reality for a reality show– everything anyone could ever want in a guilty pleasure. But as you rewatched the show, things just weren't quite hitting the same. 

Maybe because the newest episodes were released last night. 

You'd promised Theo you wouldn't watch ahead without them. Since they had a meeting at some ungodly early hour today, they'd gone to bed early last night. Which meant you hadn't been able to watch it yet. 

They had even made you swear upon the life of your freshly drafted manuscript that you wouldn't watch until they got home. 

Twice. 

But… how would they know? You could just clear the watch history and act surprised, right? Maybe just for one episode… 

You queue up the first new episode. The theme song plays in your room, only to be interrupted by the sound of the door unlocking. 

"Shit shit shit...!"

You scramble for the remote, somehow losing and finding it in the blankets a half dozen times before you manage to smash the power button. As the TV shuts off, you resume some kind of casual pose on the bed. 

Wait... This makes no sense. Why would you be sitting on the bed in silence? You should have–-

The door swings open. You're out of time. 

"M'love?" 

You roll over from your mock-lounge position to greet them, and your words die on your tongue. 

Theo is… in a suit. 

You'd been sound asleep when they left this morning, and hadn't seen them get ready. You didn't even know they owned a suit!

They blink a few times at you, adjusting the sleeve of their shirt before sliding the jacket off, apparently entirely unaware of the car wreck they just caused in your brain. 

"... Are you okay?" They ask slowly, movements slowing to an uncertain halt. Their jacket hangs from two fingertips, about to be discarded on the armchair near the bedroom door. 

"F-fine! Hi!" Your voice is too loud. What in the hell is this doing to you? You've been together far too long to be so easily undone by a simple outfit change, but… but.. 

You clear your voice roughly, trying your damnedest to act natural. Why is your throat so dry??

"Hi," Theo echoes. A small smile curves their lips, and they let the jacket fall to the chair. Their eyebrow arches, and you know you've been caught. 

Dammit.

"You're making a face." 

"..."

Their smile grows. 

You try to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks and glare at him. 

"I am not making a face." 

"Right... And I use box cake mix." They take a few steps forward, closing the distance between you. Their legs press against the bed, and they look down at you with a nearly smug expression. "You're blushing." 

The sound that escapes you is something between mortified and outraged. You always have the upper hand when it comes to Theo. That's one of your favorite things about them. How easy it is to fluster them. The way their cheeks flush when you tease them. The way they stutter when you praise them.

But that damn suit has thrown you for a loop...! 

You gnaw your bottom lip and avert your eyes, scanning the room for some way to get them back for this. For making you so–

Fingers find your chin and firmly but gently redirect your gaze. Their gaze is affectionate. 

And heated. 

It sends a thrill through you, and for a moment, you can only stare up at them. At the curve of their lip as they smirk at you. 

Fuck it.

You rise up on your knees, unsteady on the mattress. Their hand leaves your face, and their expression morphs to surprise as you grip them by the collar of that crisply pressed shirt.  You pull them to you. 

Their hands find your waist—as if by reflex—but their eyes only widen, looking increasingly stunned, as you press your body against theirs. You bring your mouth a hair's breadth away from those slightly parted lips. This close, you can smell the bakery off him—sweet vanilla and warm cinnamon.

Their face goes scarlet. The smile you give them is undeniably wolfish. And appropriately so. You could absolutely devour them. 

"Now you're blushing." You whisper. Your voice is husky but steady. Just like that, you've gotten the advantage once more, and it's delicious. 

You pull him down over you, and they offer absolutely nothing in resistance, catching themselves on their elbows. Their eyes never leave yours, and you get lost in the overwhelming blue of their gaze. 

"S-So… good suit?" 

"Very." 

You tug their collar again, and suddenly, you're pressed between plush blankets and Theo's firm body. There's a surprising amount of strength in their lean form. Your bodies slide together, puzzle pieces. Made to fit against each other. A slow, controlled release of air passes their lips–the exact reaction you were looking for.

Their mouth drops towards yours. They wrap an arm around you once more, to pull you ever closer, like the two of you can never be close enough. Their touch is tender, but there's an edge—a fervor—to the way their fingertips dig into your sides. You relish moments like this, when you can coax them past their usual gentleness, and into the kind of desire that overrides their instinct to treat you delicately. 

You wrap your arms around their neck, blood racing with anticipation–

There's a sound. Music…?

It almost sounds like...

Your eyes widen. The TV is on. Showing the exact episode you had sworn on your newborn manuscript not to watch—

Theo's eyes snap wide, and they whip their face towards the television. You scramble in the blankets, trying to find the remote, but their arm locks around you and holds you in place. You're scrambling fruitlessly as they pin you. Their gaze turns back to you in horror. 

"You were going to watch… without me??!"

"I– I–" You sputter, trapped and entirely uncertain of how to proceed. How did the TV...? Then it dawns on you. Your weight must have shifted just right, pressing the remote still tangled in the blankets. You swear under your breath. You know that means you have to face the consequences. 

"W-Wait, Theo...!"

An impish grin spreads across their face, and they sit back on their heels so they're kneeling over you. For less than a heartbeat, fear shoots through you. It's entirely irrational, of course, but you can't deny the relief that floods you when they grab hold of one ankle and begin to tickle your socked feet. 

You laugh and thrash and struggle, attempting to crawl away only to be tugged backward into a breathy, giggling kiss. You don't even notice the echoes of fear leaving you, can't even remember the feeling existed at all as you submit to your partner's kisses. A consequence you would gladly bear.  

Hope you enjoyed!

If you'd like to check out Titan Arum, find it here:

Pardon my rambling. Illness of the mental flavour this fine four in the morning.

On one hand I want to post shit as soon as I’m done drawing but I also like keeping a queue bc then my account doesn’t die for 7-14 business days when my wrists act up not from an obligation to post just bc I like seeing people interact with my art and i know I could take a break and keeping a queue makes it so I can but also I love consistency and I just because I should take breaks doesn’t mean I like doing it and I think I may spend too much time on the internet but I’m not entirely sure what else to do with myself because what else is there to do for me as someone who can’t really go out or do most normal things. I suppose I could read but I already do a lot of that not even just fanfic I read a decent amount of novels im just horribly picky and I find the process of finding novels I enjoy exausting. I could write more music too but I already do that a lot and it’s debatable if that’s better because I end up obsessing over even minor flaws. I want to redecorate my room but I’m not sure if that’s a good idea or if I’m just tired bc I’m pretty sure I forgot to take my meds last night even though I slept what felt like a normal amount. I should also go to bed now bc I did take my meds and I know that’s definitely making my current situation worse but on the other hand I want to run. Which I know is a bad idea last time i tried to go for a run my legs gave out and I was stuck in the cold for 4 hours until my roommate woke up and could bring my wheelchair and I’m not sure when my knees got this bad. Like I could never run because I was asthmatic but it was a different kind of couldn’t like I could technically run it was just a bad idea because I’d have an asthma attack. But now I can’t because I’ll fall and won’t be able to get back up or I’ll be in such severe pain I can’t get home or one time I got lost and just kinda kept walking for almost 2 hours bc I forgot my phone so I couldn’t contact anyone and I shit you not I ended up in the neighbor town (it’s not that far and I didn’t remember crossing the highway either way) and after that I barely got out of bed for like a week. Not that I get out of bed often as it anyway and I think that’s why it feels like I spend too much time online. Because I only really remember being online because it’s the best part of my day. Like I know I have one irl I could be hanging out with but also that is so much effort and I love her dearly but it’s a different kind of yearning I think. I want to be normal just for like a day I want to have friends who want to talk to me and people to spend time with irl. But I also don’t. I don’t want people I don’t want friends and I know that. I want the romanticized version of friends that don’t have drama or problems or complexity and I think that’s why I value my online friends and my mutuals so much because it fills the social need without any of the issues that come with humans and I feel horrible saying that because I know my mutuals are human but online is comfortable and the block button is always a click away and I’m not afraid to use it but also I am because what if I’ve misjudged the situation not that I’ll ever ask.

Edit I’m expanding this because my brain has gone in a very irl dangerous direction and I need to keep my hands busy lest I do something fucking stupid. Sometimes I wonder how much my apathy shows and sometimes I wonder if it’s even apathy because I am apathetic in a clinical sense but I wonder if I’m exaggerating because I get bursts of excitement or feeling but it comes and goes in minutes like. Even then direction I was going isn’t out of and particular negative emotion it was a passive thought and I think that’s arguably more worrying bc instead of being jarring and worrying I considered making a catastrophically bad decision with all the care of someone picking want to have for breakfast. Maybe I’d feel better if I jerked off I don’t think that’s is a great idea but also there’s certainly worse options I’m wondering if this reads as much like a conversation as it feels because I don’t remember writing most of it but also reading it does sound like me but not and I don’t know why that is but I don’t want to think to hard on it so.

If anyone is an enabling mood..HI, I AM ALWAYS IN AN ENABLING MOOD, YOU WANT ENABLING? HERE IT IS. I have soft loving enabling tho cos I don't like being mean it makes me sad.

As we all expected, I am very, very easy to enable. Credit to @voidxces for the beautiful and inspiring edit. Mildly smutty bits, hence the full story is below the cut.

Valletta, Malta

December 15, 1999

The customs line at Malta International Airport is long, maddeningly slow-moving, and the one guard stamping passports looks to be about ninety, as Joe shifts from foot to foot and tries to remind himself that they have nothing but time. (Unless, of course, the Y2K nuts are all correct and they’re two short weeks from the end of life as we know it, but if nothing else, living for almost a thousand years means that he has seen countless doomsday prophecies come and go without so much as a whimper.) It was a crappy flight from Paris – overbooked, understaffed, the inevitable screaming child two rows behind them and now determined to keep up the racket in the passport queue – and Joe’s trying not to look as stressed as he feels. This is their getaway for the holidays and the new year, the turn of the millennium, a huge and significant milestone for any number of reasons, and he’ll feel better once they’re out of here. Nobody’s at their best in the cattle corrals and the fluorescent lights of border control, another reminder of how much things have changed over all the years they’ve been coming to Malta. The first time they were here in 1501, all they had to do was sail up, get off the boat, and pay a bribe to the port official. Joe votes they try that now.

The line shuffles forward another inch, the child behind them screams even louder, and as Joe is silently reciting the Bismillah and reminding himself that the Almighty values patience, Nicky turns around. He sizes up the mother – tired-looking, hungry-eyed, apologetically trying to corral the fussy baby and a toddler of about three or four – and smiles gently. “Hello,” he says in English, then glances at her passport and sees that she’s Italian. “Buona sera, signora,” he goes on, not missing a beat. “Hai bisogna di aiuto con qualcosa?”

The tired mother starts, her eyes welling with tears. Joe’s willing to bet that nobody has offered to help her for this entire trip, and has to smile softly to himself that of course Nicky has swooped out of the Maltese night like, well, a knight, her countryman in a time of crisis, to do exactly that. Joe is already feeling better just to watch Nicky be Nicky, as his lover takes hold of the baby, joggles him on his hip and tells him that he’s a handsome fellow and to stop screaming and to give his mama a break, as the mother tends to her toddler, gets herself sorted out, and thanks Nicky profusely in what sounds like Calabrian. Joe’s mostly able to pick out the specific regional accents, and he guesses that this woman is a migrant, one of the workers who travel around Europe in the growing season to pick fruit and vegetables in hot fields under hard bosses who only pay in cash and owe a cut to the Mafia. He takes out his wallet and quietly offers her all the Maltese lira they changed for back in France, and she shakes her head and tries to refuse. He insists – she looks somewhat surprised that he speaks Italian too, but not unduly – and while she won’t take it all, they manage to give her back her baby, some money, and reach the front of the line without actually noticing the rest of the wait. Joe hands over a French passport that reads Joseph Jones. Nicky hands over Nicholas Smith. The guard looks at them, asks a few questions in his quavering old-man voice, stamps the visa pages, and once more, they’re in.

Outside, Joe and Nicky collect their bags, help the woman to the taxi rank and make sure she’s on her way to wherever she’s staying, then go out to catch the bus. Valletta sparkles in the distance as they draw closer, this magnificent collection of fortresses and gardens and churches, domes and spires, palaces and piazzas, museums and terraces, city walls and citadels, Benjamin Disraeli’s city of palaces for gentlemen. The place was largely built by the Knights Hospitaller after their exile from Rhodes and the Great Siege of Malta in 1565, and Joe and Nicky have watched it transform over the centuries, but it has still managed to retain that unique spark of what they love about it. It is familiar, comforting, lovely. If the world is going to end, no better place to be than here.

The bus stops in downtown, they thank the driver in fluent Maltese, and get off, hauling their bags and suitcases. The December evening is cool and misty, fog floating over the cobblestones like elegant wraiths, the streetlamps casting pools of golden glow that look like doorways to another world. They walk casually hand in hand to a corner store that is about to shut up shop for the evening, buy a quick dinner, and then continue up the street. Somewhat appropriately, they are staying in a rented house near St Sebastian’s Bastion, Is-Sur ta' San Bastjan, on the northeastern tip of the Valletta peninsula near Fort Saint Elmo. They know the elderly owner well, who has left the key in the postbox for them, and they unlock the door, ascend the narrow, creaky stairs to the top-floor garret, and find that a small Christmas tree and a plate of imqaret have been left to welcome them. The windows open out over the city wall and the dark, glittering ocean. It is quiet, at last. Just the two of them.

“Finally,” Joe says. He picks up Nicky’s bags when he puts them down, and carries them into the dark bedroom, switching on the lights. They set down their convenience-store repast and eat, affectionately nudging each other’s knees under the too-small table. They’ll do more shopping tomorrow; they will be here at least until January (assuming, of course, no apocalypse). Joe smiles at Nicky, happy to be here, happy to be with him, happy to be sharing this small and unremarkable meal with a soft rain pattering on the steep slanted roof. When they’ve finished and tidied up, Joe murmurs, “Not too tired, are you?”

Nicky answers with a devilish quirk of his eyebrow, as if to say that of course neither of them were actually planning to go to sleep without celebrating their return appropriately. He wraps his arms around Joe’s waist, and they waltz into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them and drawing the curtains, sinking down on the amply-sized bed and undressing each other with slow and leisurely care. Even after a thousand, a hundred thousand times, it never fails to thrill. Their mouths meet in the dimness, their hands trace the well-loved lines of the other’s body, the faint scars and lines that never go away even through all the regenerations, the secret places, the curve of lips, the plane of shoulders and spines, the tensed tightness low on stomachs, the bend of a knee or the bone of an ankle. Joe pushes Nicky down beneath him, and Nicky arches his back, wrapping his legs around Joe’s waist. In quiet and tender and timeless communion, they find their way back home again, in each other and with each other, in touches and kisses and slow thrusts turning faster, and finally, sated, they sleep.

They wake in the morning with slants of winter sunlight filling the room, the high white ceilings, the gauzy curtains fluttering in the constant draft that they’ve never found, the way they’ve woken up in this room since they first met the owner in 1973, and which makes Joe think poignantly, as he always does for just an instant, of their lost home in Constantinople. They get up and dress, then leave the house in search of breakfast. The stone of the streets is pink and amber and gold and fawn, and the light has that particular early-morning quality where it seems to shine through sheets of bleached linen. The city is already awake and bustling, and Joe and Nicky make their way to their favorite café. They can sit overlooking the water and eat as much pastry and drink as much coffee as they like, and they make a good several hours of it. The sun comes up over the street, the palm trees rustle in the breeze, and a few tourists wander by with fancy Nikons around their necks, looking lost. One asks in English if they know where the Grandmaster’s Palace is, and Nicky is happy to point them in the right direction.

“You know,” he says, when they have finally finished breakfast and are wandering happily through the baroque streets, hands and shoulders brushing, “it’s 1999. This is our nine-hundredth anniversary, strictly speaking.”

Joe raises an eyebrow at him. “More like our eight hundredth,” he says playfully. “If we’re going from when we actually figured anything out.”

Nicky shrugs, grinning sheepishly, even as both of them fall contemplatively silent. 1099 is a long, long time ago by anybody’s measure. Joe thinks of himself, kneeling in prayer in the Tower of David, the dread whispers that the Franks were coming, the way he can remember parts and pieces and that first death bright as flame, but the rest of it has faded into the soft greyness of endlessly passing time. They did go to Jerusalem earlier this year, in July, since it seemed like the thing to do; there were a lot of First Crusade remembrances going on, some of which they wanted to be associated with and some of which they didn’t. There was a tweed-jacketed history professor who was deeply appreciative of the detailed account that Nicky was able to give on the breach of Jerusalem’s walls (he asked if he had published any articles on the subject, Nicky said hastily that he was just an enthusiastic amateur), and then there were some whackjobs who were trying to inflame religious tensions, as usual, and basically acting like it was a good thing that the heretics got what was coming to them. Lots of Americans with placards. Lots of Israeli secret service and bearded guys who were probably covert Hezbollah. Lots of people who all think they know exactly what the crusade’s legacy means, and which Joe and Nicky couldn’t help but regard warily. Everything seems twisted up these days, poised on the brink. That guy named bin Laden whose pals tried to bomb the World Trade Center in 1993, he’s been talking as usual. Death to the Western crusaders. So on and so forth. Thus far, nobody’s really listening outside the Middle East, but when you’ve seen this so many times, it’s harder to ignore.

Joe shakes himself, not wanting to think about this on their long-awaited getaway. They’ve been in Kosovo on and off this year, even if the last thing any of them really wanted was to go back into the Yugoslavian wars, and Andy and Booker are off to enjoy the last few weeks of the twentieth century elsewhere. Someone like Andy, the turn of a millennium is old hat, but even for as long as they’ve lived, this is Joe and Nicky’s first new set of a thousand years. The Year Two Thousand. Sounds appropriately science-fictiony. How, Joe thinks. How on earth did Yusuf al-Kaysani from Cairo end up here.

That, however, is only incidental to his enjoyment of the rest of the day. They walk on the city walls, they go up to the Grand Harbor and take in the sea view, then to the Barrakka Gardens. Nicky gazes pensively on the monument of remembrance and out over the glittering blue water, as Joe sits down on a bench and watches him. He has always simply enjoyed looking at Nicky, watching him breathe, watching him be, watching the way he leans on the railing and shields his eyes against the sun with the casual, unconsciousness elegance that permeates everything he does. Whether the name is Yusuf al-Kaysani or Joseph Jones or anything else, it doesn’t matter. Even among all the change and clutter of the modern world, this adoration, this soul-deep delight, is the one thing that remains constant.

That is how the next several days pass. Joe and Nicky visit their usual old haunts in Valletta, eat well, make love, and catch up with the apartment’s owner, Ġużepp, who is now in his eighties, has known them for over twenty-five years, and never seen them age a day. He has never asked why. His wife died a long time ago and they never had children, and perhaps he sees them as sons, as a strange but poignant blessing for a lonely old man, two people who clearly love this place as much as he does. He asked them once when they first came here, and Joe wondered if they should just tell him that it was the sixteenth century. Somehow it seems as if Ġużepp might not be surprised.

A few days before Christmas, a storm blows in from the Atlantic just as dust blows in from North Africa, and the world turns silver and ocher and rust and wet, the windows sparkling as if stained in silver nitrate and the streets and domes and splendid churches of Valletta painted in watercolor impressionism on the blurry glass, anything or anyone outside the bedroom barely seeming to exist. Joe and Nicky spend the time productively, which is to say they have so much sex that they can barely walk. They twist into each other, explore and challenge and unstring and repair each other, touch and caress, kiss and lick and suck and mark their territory all over again, leaving no inch of flesh unexplored and no sinful act undone. “You know,” Nicky murmurs, eyes closed, smiling, sweat beading on his brow, hand stroking up the line of Joe’s spine as Joe nips at his neck. “We really are a pair of heretics, aren’t we.”

“Speak for yourself, Nicolò.” Joe leans down to steal another kiss from his lover’s bruised, teeth-marked lips. “Heretics according to who?”

Nicky hums, as if to say he is happy to get into a theological argument at a later date, but can’t be arsed to do so right now. Joe slides down next to him, sliding his hand across Nicky’s chest and stomach, curling lower, as Nicky whines and reflexively tries to pull back. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Joe laughs, as he always does, pressing a kiss into Nicky’s shoulder and thinking – as he also always does – Allah and all His angels forbid. He has always secretly, shamefully prayed that if that terrible moment came, if one of them lost their immortality first, that it be him. He knows this condemns Nicky to live on without him, but he cannot face the prospect of doing it himself. Dying for good, even after this long, somehow seems easier. At least he’s done that before, often. Living without the other half of his soul, not so much.

The rain clears on Christmas Day, the light is fragile and golden and perfect as heaven, and they call Andy and Booker (Andy’s somewhere in Argentina, Booker is on a beach in Thailand) and wish each other happy holidays. Nicky mixes up a feast, Joe helps (if by that you mean stirring the occasional pot and taking full advantage of Nicky’s “Kiss the Cook” apron) and they open their door and visit with the neighbors who drop in to bring more pastries and Christmas wishes. Ġużepp turns up, they invite him to stay for supper so he won’t be alone, and after the token protests, he agrees. As he is insisting on doing the washing-up, he asks, “How long have you two known each other?”

Joe and Nicky glance at each other. They’re fairly sure that Ġużepp knows they’re a couple, even if they haven’t said so openly, just in case an old Maltese Roman Catholic would prefer to know it implicitly but not have it confirmed. Finally Nicky says, “A very long time.”

“I thought so, somehow.” The old man reaches for a dish towel. “You seem that way. Have you been happy here? All the times you’ve been to Malta, to my house?”

“We’ve been very happy,” Joe assures him. “This place has been special for – for many years. I am Arabic, Nicky is Italian, it is like it was made just for us.”

Ġużepp smiles. “Your families?” he asks. “They are happy with it?”

Joe thinks of his mother, far off and so very long ago, and how Maryam al-Katibi always wanted him to be a better man. How he forgot about time and its passing, and never saw her again after he left. It remains one of the greatest regrets of his life that she never met Nicolò, as he thinks that they would have liked each other very much. But as far as their family goes now –

“Yes,” he says, thinking of Andy and Booker. “Yes, they are.”

“I am glad,” Ġużepp says stoutly. “It is good for a man not to be alone.”

(It is, and both Joe and Nicky have clung to that, and they don’t know now that this is the last time they will see Ġużepp, as he will die before they return here in 2004 when Malta becomes a member of the EU, but on this sweet, poignant night, as time speeds on its passing, as they both reflect on all those many years, and God said that it was good.)

The last week of 1999 and the twentieth century and the second millennium count down to its inevitable end. There aren’t exactly prophets in sandwich boards shrieking on the streets about the end times, though it’s undeniable that there’s a sharp-edged anxiety as Y2K draws closer. On December 31, Joe and Nicky sit on the beach at the famous Blue Lagoon, watching the sun go down over the island of Comino, holding hands. At last Nicky says – half joking, but only half – “If the world does end tonight, I want you to know that you are still the best thing that ever happened to me. Except for that pastry the other day. That was really very divine.”

Joe laughs, takes his hand to his lips and kisses it. “Always, my heart,” he says. “Always.”

The world gets softer and darker, and lights come on over the bay and the archipelago and the boats bobbing at anchor, and Joe thinks that it must be the year 2000 somewhere else, and everything still seems to be fine. He wasn’t really worried, but he knows that fear that the next year might bring with it something too terrible to be gotten around, and that if you could just cling to this moment now when things are all right, they might stay that way forever. Finally he and Nicky get the water taxi back to Valletta, and it’s getting closer and closer to midnight, and they sit down on a bench and count down with the rest of this sliver of the world, all the way into the next stage of forever.

When it becomes plain that the world has not ended, nor indeed does it seem likely to do so, everywhere seems to let out its breath at once. Huge and glorious fireworks thunder in the dark sky over the city, in riots of color and noise and sound, and Joe and Nicky can hear cheering and toasting from what seems like every house in the city. They kiss and then kiss again for good measure, swept along on a tide of jolly and relieved and mildly (or well, considerably) inebriated strangers, an impromptu street party that both of them feel down to their nine-hundred-and-fifty-year-old sinews, the sort of magic that still catches them dead to rights even after so long in this beautiful, stupid, dangerous, exasperating, maddening, heartbreaking, filthy, glorious, transcendent, irreplaceable world. They throw their arms around each other’s necks and gaze deeply into the other’s eyes, as even all the gaiety and festivity and bacchanal falls into nothing, passing over them like waves. “I love you,” Joe says, as he has said it so many times in all the languages he knows. “Ti amo.”

Nicky smiles that smile that makes the world shine, and spins Joe lightly on the spot, and the next thousand years seem, just then, like the greatest blessing that any man has ever had. “I know.”

All of them *^*

Heya Ash!! Oof you're giving me a project lol thank you so much for the ask!!!

1. How big is your mods folder?

That is a really great question. I couldn't tell you off the top of my head, but it got to the point where I had to put all my mods on a thumb drive and only move them around as I need them because I'm computer was running so terribly. So I'd say it's a lot 😅.

2. How would you describe your style?

Uh, I would say very graphic novel type vibes. I'm a huge graphic novel buff and the story I'm actually working on I intended to be a graphic novel, but it really got away from me and is much too big for that now (not a brag, just my legitimate crack head antics) so when I got into Sims editing the thought was always to kind of keep the drawn/comicbook-y feel to it.

3. What is your favorite challenge?

Thus far it's been the stereotype challenge ! It was a lot of fun and I got to do it with four of my OCs who ended up fitting the criteria pretty well! I just think it came out really well both as an edit and as my OCs.

4. Do you make CC?

Aahahaahahahhaahahaah!!!!!! No. I tried to make poses one time! One singular time and it ended so poorly that I decided to swear off making anymore off my own CC for the distant future. Maybe I'll try it again, maybe I'm scarred for life, only time can tell!

5. What type of CC do you hoard?

I had answered this one before, but I FUCKING LOVE POSES!!!! And like I said I didn't have the best experience making my own so I prefer to use downloaded ones. But I never really clean out my poses in case I need them for something else! So my pose folder is astronomical at this point.

6. What default eyes and skin do you use?

You know.... This really is a question I should have the answer to but I'm totally drawing a blank right now so I'll go ahead and put a link to the eyes here and the skin here when I can look it up! ✌

7. How many URLs have you had, and what are the meanings behind them?

On this blog I've only had the one? And I feel like it's pretty self explanatory, I love Morgyn because 1.) They're the absolute best 2.) Untamed magic? Yes ma'am! 3.) They're gender fluid / nonbinary like me!! And 4.) They're an absolute snack!!!! So it was a perfect fit for me.

8. Who is your favorite gameplay blog?

Why would you do me like this??????? I can't choose!!! I love them all and I'm friends with all of them because they're absolutely amazing people that I love so much!!! I don't have a favorite! 🥺

9. Favorite story telling blog?

Please see above answer!!!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS ALL SO MUCH I AHDHAHSGA I CANT!!!!

10. Who is your favorite CC creator?

I don't really want to answer this one either 😭 but I think the only person I know that makes CC is the awesome @barbieaiden they made a really kick ass emo glove CC that I absolutely love and you should check out. (Sorry if the rest of you make CC I'm sure I've probably seen it, probably even downloaded and reblogged, but this is all I can think if right now 💜) Also my go to for all pose stuff is the glorious @katverse they do incredible poses for pretty much anything you could think up, highly recommend.

11. How do you edit you photos?

This is certainly going to get a few gasps, but I make all of my edits on my phone!!!!! I use just a basic free photo editor app and kind of bend it to my will to get what I want out of it! I'm really bad at figuring out stuff like Photoshop and I'm not willing to pay the expensive price when I can do it and get just as good as a result as I want from something free easy and portable.

12. What's the last screenshot you took?

Once again it has to do with an edit I'm working on so here's the last one I put up if you're interested.

13. What do you do when you are unmotivated?

Honestly, this! Editing and the Sims are my escape from the real world. It helps me when I'm having a hard time with my anxiety because it gives me control over something, it helps me a lot with writer's block I can't tell you how my stories have been inspired because of it. But I guess if I'm bored in the game I usually just start a new save or play another game for a bit, I always come back after like a day though! To be fair I haven't been doing this long enough to feel unmotivated yet, maybe we should revisit this when I've been doing this longer than two months 😅

14. Who is your current favorite Sim?

Ugh!!! As you guys have found out about me I don't like to play favorites......... But if I had to say maybe my OC Parker's Sim, he just came out perfectly and is just spot on.

15. Who is your current favorite Sims that isn't yours?

Guidry!!!! He's frickin' hilarious and just so great. I honestly didn't expect them to put as much into him as they did but I'm glad they did!!! He's the best!! He's no Morgyn, but he's pretty great too.

16. Recreate someone else's Sim in your style.

So this sounds like a lot of fun! But I really don't want to change anyone else's Sim, I know how much we all put into them and they're basically like our babies. They mean a lot, so unless I get explicit consent from someone saying I can use their Sim in my style I'm going to pass out of respect this time.

17. Do you talk about the Sims with people in your life?

Yes! One of my really close friends is the whole reason I'm into editing and mods and stuff! She showed me everything I know and is totally awesome for that. (@jennifermakesstuff on Instagram, go check out she's absolutely amazing and a crocheting god, go do it)

18. How many packs do you own?

.......... I don't want to answer this..... It's honestly a problem..... But I have them all.... Minus the star wars one I just I cannot bring myself to get it, it just looks terrible. But yeah I collect the packs and it's a problem 😅 but if you need advice on what pack to get next I'm your person!

19. How many posts do you have on your blog currently?

141 👀 I uh.... I have nothing else to say about that lol

20. How many drafts do you have currently?

Too many. But they're all like ask games and stuff for my OCs so yup!

21. How many posts are currently in your queue?

Only two 🙃 I need to get back to editing so I can hopefully have some more but I'm sick right now so... Maybe it's time for me to start that gameplay I've been threatening.

22. Have you ever moved blogs?

Okay yes, but not intentionally but I've moved three times? I had a blog for when I first started on tumblr it was for music stuff but I forgot to pass code to it so now it's just there, the other one I had was for my art & make up stuff but it wasn't doing good at all so I just turned it into my personal blog, and then from there I moved to this one! Also I'm avoiding my personal one like the plague right now because of a whole disaster that happened with someone I followed and I don't have the balls to unfollow them so I'm just pretending that account doesn't exist 😅.

23. Are you in any Sims related discords?

Yep! This one right here by the very amazing @clumsyghostie I'm really new to discord so it's the only one I've been apart of (EVER) but everyone has been really nice and friendly!!

24. What are your thoughts on the most recent pack? (Paranormal)

I like it! It added more to the gameplay than past packs have, but I always felt it left something to be desired in the way of CAS and build mode. Spoilers starting here if you care: Also it would've been cool if you could have had more interactions with Temperance like you can with Guidry, and if the specters did more that would be cool too. Either way I think it's good, I wouldn't say it's groundbreaking for the game experience, but it is fun.

25. How many hours have you played the Sims?

Let's find out 3,215 hours 😅 that's board line a problem hahaha if my math is right (it probably isn't because I'm gay and bad at math) that's a hundred and thirty three days straight? Jesus I might need help lol.

26. If you play gameplay, do you play with mods?

I used to! But I play on a regular laptop so it can't really run gameplay mods unfortunately so unless I'm doing edits my game is vanilla.

27. What's the furthest you've gotten on a challenge?

So I'm really bad at challenges! My favorite lately has been rags to riches it's a lot of fun but I always get bored after they get married and pregnant :/ I never know what to do after that because like the challenge is over but I'm so invested in these Sims 😅

Thank you again for the asks! This was a lot of fun 💖 I know I answered all the questions just now but feel free to send me an ask for whatever you want! I love interacting with you all, you're all so amazing 💖💖💖

OLDER BROTHER: W. Nylander I FLUFF/SMUT

Words: 29K+

Summary: You’ve grown up with the Nylander’s. With your parents being friends and you being the same age as Alex, the two of you have been best friends for longer than you can remember - but somewhere during your early teenage years, his older brother started becoming more handsome and interesting, and less annoying older brother. And somewhere during your early teenage years you became more beautiful and grown up and charming, and less like Alex’s awkward best friend.

Warnings: Extreme cuteness?? cursing and smut + some alcohol

Warning #2: I spent 3 whole hours rereading/editing this... So grab a bottle of water and some snacks

Author’s note: Let’s just pretend that drafting and the Nylander bros leaving Sweden just isn’t a thing. And I am sorry for a lot of commas sometimes, I’m just a grammar bitch. (Also, the age of consent in Sweden, where the story is set, is, according to Wikipedia, 15. Just so you know ;))  AND I AM SORRY FOR THE WAIT!!! HOPE YOU ENJOY!

Masterlist tagged in bio.

July 2011

“Why are you blushing?” Alex asked, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows and curious eyes. You’d been playing in the pool, splashing each other and hitting each other with pool noodles, but now that William had decided to show up, 15 years old and in all his shirtless glory - your eyes and mind went somewhere else, just snapping out of it when Alex hit you over the head with a noodle.

“Why. Are. You. Blushing?” he asked again, once you finally turned your attention back at him. Your attention weren’t even all the way there, quickly being caught again as you observed his older brother climbing up the ladder on the side of the pool to do another dive into the water, hockey-made muscles moving in his back as he pulled himself up.

“I’m not blushing,” you said once you snapped out of it again, surely blushing even more. “Then why is your face suddenly red?” his eyebrows still furrowed, as he couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on with his best friend. “I don’t know, probably just sunburned,” you tried to find an excuse, Alex shrugging and rolling his eyes at you before hitting you with the noodle again.

You and Alex had always been honest with each other, but as you got older you’d learned that some things you couldn’t share with your best friend.. like period-stuff, and ‘suddenly developing a crush on his older brother’-stuff.

June 2012

“Why are you wearing that? It’s hot as hell,” Alex asked, looking at you standing by the pool from where he’s lounging on a floatie. Covering your body, you’ve got a huge t-shirt – stolen from your dad. It was the first heat of the summer, and a heatwave traveling over Europe had hit Sweden good. You had plenty of sundresses but they were all a little tight over your chest and thighs - and the thought of something clinging to your body in this heat literally made you want to vomit. “My bikini is too small,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet. “What? Stop mumbling,” Alex said, the sound of his little sisters running around with the water hose behind you completely drowning out your mumbling voice. “I said my bikini is too small,” you muttered, sitting down at pool’s edge to get your feet in the water. “Didn’t you buy a new bikini before we went to that indoors water park for my birthday?” he asked, splashing water over himself to cool down. “Yeah, and it is too small,” you muttered. “That’s like three months ago, there’s no way that’s too small,” he chuckled. “It’s not like you grew. I’m like 5 inches taller than you now,” he laughed.

“Jesus, Alex, it’s called puberty - I think you forget that she’s a girl,” William chimes in, smacking his little brother over the back of his head as he slides past on a floatie of his own. You’re cheeks flare up at the thought of William understanding that your problem is that you now have boobs and wider hips. But you’re also thankful of the fact that he said it, so you didn’t have to. “What? I know that she’s a girl, dumbass,” Alex whines at his brother.

“Boobs, Alex! Boobs and hips, and a goddamn ass that doesn’t fit in any of my jeans anymore – that, is my problem,” you whisper-yell at him, annoyed with his oblivious nature. “And yeah, it is called puberty - maybe you’ll experience it one day,” you added, making Alex scoff and Will laugh loudly. “Hey, like I just said, I’m 5 inches taller than you, that’s puberty for you right there,” he argued. “Your voice is still squeaky,” you teased, even if his voice definitely had become a lot deeper over the last year. “No, it’s not,” he argued more, obviously making his voice deeper than it really was. You chuckled as you made eye contact with Willy who was sneaking up behind Alex with a smirk on his lips, flipping his floatie over and sending Alex under the water with a high scream - a small voice crack following as a cherry on top. “Like I said, squeaky,” you said, smug smile on your lips, when Alex’s head came through the surface again, and you and Willy laughed together - and your heart felt like it grew three sizes in your chest, just from communicating with Willy. And a maybe little more from being the one who made him smile, who made him laugh. You really hoped it didn’t though, you couldn’t handle your chest getting any bigger now. “Will you just get in already? I don’t care if your bikini fits or not, just... come play with me,” his voice turns whiny again as he says the last part, and you finally decide to give in, standing up to take off your dad’s t-shirt. You felt uncomfortable but a little bit braver now that you had at least one of the Nylander brothers understanding of your problems. But as you let the t-shirt fall to the ground and you turned back to the pool to jump in - the understanding one of the Nylander brothers was also the one who’s stare lingered a little longer.

It was also him that decided to grab you and throw you into the pool while you were standing by the pools edge. And it was him that went to get popsicles and stared at you when he bent down to give it you where you were sat floating on a couple of pool noodles. And he was the one that smiled at you from across the table when Alex told everyone about you and Willy ganging up on him - his smile a little sweeter, his stare a little softer than usual. And your heart felt like it would bust through your chest. March 2013 You let out a long sigh as you got upstairs, finally slipping away from the crowd that had gathered in the Nylander’s home in honor of Camilla’s birthday party. You cursed to yourself as you reached behind you to try and adjust your bra that was digging into your side through your dress. “Wanna talk about it?” you hear a teasing but familiar voice behind you. William was stretched out on a sofa, or more like a loveseat, that stood against the wall on the second floor of the house. He smiled at you as you turned around and finally noticed him. You rolled your eyes at his comment, but approached as he moved the pillows that was stacked next to him, in order to make room for you. “What’s up?” he asks on a more serious note, when you settle in next to him. You’ve gotten more used to talking to him over the last six months, as he had started spending more time with you and Alex, but being this close to him - your thighs slightly touching, your shoulder leant against his bicep - still got your heart beating faster. “First of all, I hate adults,” you say, making him chuckle and follow up with a ‘why?’. “These friends of our moms, all up in my business like ‘Oh, you’ve grown up to be such a fine young woman’ and ‘oh the last time I saw you, you were as skinny as a toothpick - you look like a woman now, look at those curves, you look just like your mother when she was your age’,” you tell him, making weird voices as you impersonate your mom and Camilla’s friends. “And let’s not forget ‘the boys at school must be swooning over you! Alex must have his hands full fighting them off’, queue obnoxious laughter,” you rant, letting out all your frustrations as Willy shakes in laughter next you. “Like, stop commenting on my body, please. Isn’t there like an unwritten rule that you shouldn’t comment on a teenage girl’s body? Also, there are no boys swooning over me, and if there were, I sure as hell wouldn’t need Alex to fight anyone off,” you huff, letting out another deep breath now that you’ve gotten most of your frustrations out.

“I hate to break it to you, but it’s true though,” he says, eyeing you from the side as you roll your eyes again. “What? That Alex spends all our free periods fighting off all my swooning suitors?” He laughs again, and you think it might be your favorite sound in the entire world. You like it even more when you’re the one that caused it. “That you’re a woman now,” he says it like Hagrid tells Harry Potter that he’s a wizard. “Like you’ve changed a lot since this time last year, not that what they’re saying is okay, but I understand their reactions,” he said - and he says it in a nice way. And you feel like it’s a compliment but you’re not sure. Your heart starts beating extra fast, though, just in case. “I came up here to get a break,” you sigh dramatically, and he laughs again - softly.

“Also I’m sure there are boys swooning over you, Y/N,” he adds, turning his head to look at you. “Yeah, right,” you mumble, and he turns back again, smiling. “I said I’m sure,” he trails off, and you thought about how the only boy you wanted to be swooning over you was him. “And second of all?” he asks, after a while, snapping you out of your thoughts. “What?” you ask, not sure what he means. “You said ‘first of all’ before you started impersonating annoying middle aged women. There must be a ‘second of all’,” he explains, smiling when he sees you draw another deep breath. “Yeah, second of all, this bra is cutting into my sides and this whole fucking outfit is just uncomfortable as heck,” you told him, making him laugh again. “I look ridiculous, this dress is at least one size too small but I never wear dresses so I don’t really get new ones and my mom would not let me wear jeans so here we are,” you sighed, gesturing towards the dress that wasn’t really meant to be clinging to your torso but definitely did. William laughed again, glancing at you before he turned his stare forward again. “I think you look great,” he smiled, but it wasn’t really a compliment you could take. “I look ridiculous,” you corrected him. “You need to stop putting yourself down like that. I’m trying to compliment you, you know. These annoying middle aged women down here are right - you are beautiful - and you definitely don’t look ridiculous,” he tells you, genuinely. You don’t know what to say next. Trying to think of how to say thank you in a confident and grown up way and not in a ‘I have a humongous crush on you’ way, while simultaneously fighting off the blush creeping up your cheeks was hard. Before you can come up with a logical solution, one that wasn’t running off or digging a hole and disappearing into it, he starts talking again. “You know, when someone compliments you, it’s polite to say thank,” he turns towards you, “oh, you’re busy blushing,” he interrupts himself, laughing. “Stop,” you whine, bringing your hands up to cover your cheeks, only making him laugh more. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you suddenly hear Alex coming up the stairs, stopping at the top once he sees the two of you. “What the hell are you two doing?” he asks when he catches you in the act of trying to fight off William who’s holding your wrists as he tries to stop you from covering your blushing cheeks, your tights covered foot pressed against his bicep as you try to push him away while simultaneously leaning over the armrest to get away from him - both laughing. That night when you’re lying in bed, thinking of your talk with Willy, dreaming yourself away into some dream reality where the playful fight had ended in him pressing his lips to yours, instead of Alex interrupting and whisking you away - you get a message. It is late, way past midnight and even longer past your preferred bedtime, and you wonder who it might be. After all, Alex had fallen asleep while you watched a movie in the attic, barely getting himself up two flights of stairs to his bedroom when your parents came to tell you that you were leaving. Your lungs almost give out when you flip over your phone to see the nickname ‘willy’ on your screen. Having had his number saved in your phone ever since you first got one - because your mom and Camilla got you and Alex phones at the same time and thought it would smart for you to have it in case Alex did something stupid (i.e. hurting himself) and you couldn’t get a hold of them - but his number had never really been used much up until the last few months. Your mouth falls open when you struggle to get your phone unlocked, the fingerprint function of course not giving you the time of day, and you fuck up your code twice before you finally get it open and read the message - whereas your mouth shifts into a wide, giddy smile. “I like talking to you,”

December 2013/January 2014 New Year’s Eve dinner was always spent at home with just your family, and then around nine, your family and a couple of other families in your parents circle of friends would migrate over to the Nylander’s, where you would spend the rest of the night celebrating the new year. Unlike the last big party you attended at the Nylander house, you now had an outfit that you felt comfortable in. A pair of flowy, black pants that fit nicely over your hips and didn’t cut into your waist paired with a sparkly, dark grey, slightly see-through long sleeve that your mom had let you get if you promised to wear one of those cropped, black tank tops underneath - which wasn’t a compromise to you - it just meant that you could go without a bra. You felt more comfortable in your body too, finally getting used to how your wider hips made tight clothing look, and no longer feeling like the size of your chest was a burden. You felt good about how you looked tonight, having done your hair and everything. And even if it was nice to just feel good about yourself, you also hoped that one Nylander brother in particular would think that you looked good as well. Maybe even let his eyes linger on you a little bit longer, like he sometimes did. Along with your best friend and little Danielle, William greeted you and your family at the door. “You clean up nice,” Alex said nonchalantly, giving you a hug while simultaneously lifting your feet from the ground - something he’d gotten the habit of doing lately, only to show off the muscles he’d gained after he started going to the gym with Willy. His halfhearted compliment made you roll your eyes. “Wish I could say the same about you,” you joked, making him loosen his hold on you so that you quickly fell to your feet. While you and Alex had your moment, or whatever you would call it, your mom and dad had moved past you and into the living room. “Hey,” William smiled at you once you got back your balance and moved past Alex. It was that sweet smile, the one that reached all the way to his eyes - the one that it seemed he had reserved for you (and sometimes Danielle, as she was the one out of all his sisters that he had deemed the least annoying). “Hi,” you smiled back, stepping closer as he pulled you into a tight hug. “You look really great tonight,” he told you as you were still hugging. “Just tonight?” you asked, turning it into a joke a whole lot easier than actually taking a compliment for once, adding a hand to your chest for dramatic effect. “Oh, every day,” William smirked, taking your coat from you and hanging it up as you took it off. Alex rolled his eyes and walked past you, muttering something about getting snacks. “You still haven’t learned to take a compliment, huh?” he chuckled, putting his hands on your shoulders and pushing you in front of him into the living room. “Uhm, no, compliments make me awkward and you know it,” you mutter, pushing back against him - dreading the small crowd in their living room. You plant your feet to the ground, not taking another step - not letting him push you any further - when you get to the end of the hallway. “I know. But it doesn’t mean that I’ll stop complimenting you,” he says, stepping into you, his chest ending up slightly pressed into your back now that you suddenly stopped, his hands falling to the sides of your upper arms. You can sense his head next to yours as he leans down, and your cheeks starts feeling a little bit warm at the close proximity of your faces. “Thank you,” you whisper, knowing that he wants you take the compliment - he always does. “What was that?” he asked, teasing you. “Thank you,” you repeated yourself, louder this time. “There you go,” he smiled, and before you could do or say anything else, you sensed eyes on you. You looked away from William to see your mom’s friend, Karen, looking at the two of you. You didn’t know how long she’d been staring but you knew you didn’t want to give the circle’s main gossip girl more to talk about, envisioning her telling everyone how ‘Y/N has heart eyes for the oldest Nylander brother’, so you took Alex’s route of muttering something about snacks and running off to find him. You made the hours before midnight go by, by playing games with the other kids your age in the basement. William coming by every now and then, joining you for a game or two. The couch was full and you had taken the only chair for yourself, but instead of sitting on the floor, like three others, Willy simply desired to share your chair. “Hey, I was comfortable,” you whined, as he pushed you forward and dumped down behind you, resting his thighs and his side on the armrests, his long legs and one of his arms hanging over the chairs edges. Even if having him this close made your heart beat faster and your smile a little harder to hide, you were now a little bit uncomfortable, sitting at the edge of the seat. “Well, make yourself comfortable again,” he said, like it was the easiest thing ever. You could see how it could be comfortable, but that meant a lot of bodily contact between the two of you - something that took a little more bravery than you were feeling right now with all of these people around - and Alex who was rolling his eyes out of his head on the other side of the table. Sensing your lack of bravery, or uncomfortableness, or maybe both, William slides his free arm around your waist and pulls you closer, letting you rest back against his thighs, your arm coming up to rest on his hip. Your eyes meet and he looks up at you as if to ask ‘comfortable now?’ and you nod, a smile tugging at your lips. Not long after, Camilla comes down to tell you all that midnight and 2014 are only 15 minutes away. And while you dread having to pull away from the comfortable heat of his body, everyone put down their cards and scrambled up the stairs to put on the many layers that the Swedish winter required. “Are you gonna get up?” William chuckles, and you snap out of your thoughts. A blush rises to your cheeks but you still manage to give him a relaxed answer - one that doesn’t say ‘I never not want your body pressed to mine ever again’ but confidently “I was finally comfortable again,” at which he laughs and pushes you back to the edge of the seat, placing his hands on your shoulders again like he’d done when you first arrived. Out in the street, where the entire neighborhood and their guests gathered to watch the fireworks and celebrate the new year, you found yourself standing between Alex and William. William’s arm came around your shoulders, as if to warm you, even if you haven’t really shown any signs of being cold. But then again, you definitely didn’t mind.

The entire street counted down the last ten seconds before the new year in unison and you found yourself engulfed in the sound as a feeling of thankfulness for your friends and family washed over you. As 2013 came to an end and fireworks appeared in the night sky over you, you were pulled against William’s front, his glove covered hand coming up to your face as he pressed his lips to yours in a swift new year’s kiss. And it all happened so fast that you barely even realized it before it was over and you were whisked away and hugged by Alex and your mom, and your dad, and Camilla. Everyone. ‘Happy New Year’ whispered and shouted everywhere around you. Until William is back at your side, pulling you into a hug, whispering “Happy New Year” into your ear as if he hadn’t just kissed you a few minutes prior. As you got home around an hour and a half later, after having spent the last hour at the Nylander house half asleep on Alex’s shoulder, your brain fogged over with thoughts of what had happened. You’d been so tired but now your mind was running all over the place, and there was no way you were going to fall asleep within the first hour. You relived the moment about a hundred times, to the best of your memory. And you wished, you wished that you’d been prepared, that you knew what had made him do it - wished that he would have done it again. You wished that he hadn’t gone out with his friends after, so that maybe, just maybe he would’ve said something. Around 4 AM it feels like you might finally be falling asleep, but the sound of your phone buzzing once, then twice, makes you get up to at least push the ‘do not disturb’ button. But when you see his name on your screen you’re suddenly awake again, opening the messages immediately. “I really wanted a new year’s kiss,” “I hope you’re not mad at me❤️” And your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest again. You had no fucking idea what was behind the words ‘I really wanted a new year’s kiss’ but it would just have to do. And you were definitely not mad at him. “I’m not mad at you❤️” you texted him back, holding your phone to your chest as you waited for his reply, if there was one. A few seconds later it vibrates in your hands and you scramble to get it unlocked. “Why are you still awake?” he asks, and in a moment of bravery you text “Just been thinking a lot,” back. The dots that indicate typing appear immediately. “What’s got you thinking so much that you can’t sleep?” he asks, and you wonder if he just wants to hear you say it or if he’s actually oblivious. “You,” you answer, straight forward. Deciding right then and there that you were going to be honest this year. “Me? Why?”

“Because you kissed me,” you sent back, almost hyperventilating while you looked at the dots as they moved. The dots stopped and appeared again three times before the message came through.

“❤️❤️❤️”

March 2014 You smile awkwardly as a few guys from Alex’s hockey team shouts your name and lifts their red solo cups in the air as if to greet you. You lift your own, making sure to not let them see that there was actually water in yours, having decided that you should slow down on the alcohol that you definitely weren’t allowed to drink considering the fact that: 1. you were going home to your parents at some point during the night 

2. Alex was already well on the way to not remembering his 16th birthday, and it was only 11 o’clock You find your way back to the living room, that apparently had doubled its population in the time that you’d spent using the toilet and getting yourself some water. You sigh as you stand looking for the few people in the crowd that you actually wanted to spend time with. You spotted Alex next to his friend Linus, both noticeably intoxicated and trying to pick up some girls you’d never even seen before. The party had clearly escalated quickly. Rolling your eyes, you moved on. 

Your eyes quickly find Willy in the crowd, who’s got his hand in the air waving at you to come over to him. He’s sat in the middle of the sofa talking to a few friends that frequently attended the same friends and family events that your family and the Nylanders did. There was no space next to him or your friends - one of them even sitting on the table to be able to listen to the conversation over the loud music - but William got up from his seat and reached out a long arm for you to take and use as support as you climbed over legs and hands holding drinks. You eyed the table, sticky from overflown cups of beer and vodka mixed with god knows what, not really wanting to touch it... at all. “Here, you can sit in my lap,” William says sweetly, and before you can even process what he’d said, his hands are on your hips and he’s pulling you down to sit on one of thighs. One of his hands stay on your hip, while the other comes to rest on your knee. “You good?” he asks you, the conversation with your shared friends put on hold as he devotes his attention to you completely. You smile and nod, letting the arm closest to him rest over his shoulders. “I hope that’s water and not plain vodka,” he chuckles, nodding towards the cup in your hand. You laugh lightly at his comment. “You know, I was kinda feeling it, but then I saw him and thought ‘mm better not’,” you motioned to his little brother who’d now moved on to sloppy dancing with, not one of the unknown girls, but with Linus. William laughed at that, but nodded to show his understanding of your situation. “Yeah, I’ve been drinking coke. Mom was very clear when she said that I had to be responsible tonight,” he told you, before filling you in on the conversation he’d had with your friends. The conversation was soon interrupted, as Alex screamed across the room - the alcohol killing the already thin filter that he usually had. “You, you two, my brother and my best friend, can you please stop flirting? It’s fucking disgusting,” he shouts, as everyone turns their attention to you, his best friend, sitting on his older brother’s lap with his hands wrapped around you. Your brain works quick, making up sarcastic answers for everything had been like a coping mechanism for you over the last few years. “It’s not our fault you invited so many people that there’s no more places to sit,” you shout back at him, and he rolls his eyes. William laughs behind you, and at that, alcohol gets the best of Alex and he seems to get angry. “And- and you, you’ve been trying to steal my best friend from me f-for years,” he says, aggressively. To which the older brother role that William rarely has used over the last three years, seeing as the two year age gap between them hasn’t been very prominent, comes into light. “One more fucking word from you and I’m locking you in your room and ending this party,” he says, his voice strict and it’s shockingly enough make the drunk Alex shut up and go back to whatever he’d been doing before he noticed you. The conversation goes on but you find yourself falling out of it, Alex’s words clouding your mind and leaving you with a bad feeling in your chest. You hated that he was mad at you, even in the state that he was in. His state just made you think that it was the truth finally coming out. He’d been rolling his eyes at you and Willy for years and now you knew why. “Hey, are you alright?” Willy asks after your friends left - they lived further away and had been picked up by a parent. “Uh, yeah,” you answered when you were snapped out of your thoughts. He smiled a knowing smile that told you that he knew that you weren’t really okay. “Let’s go somewhere else,” he said and helped you to your feet with his hands on your hips, keeping his hands there as you make way on the narrow path between the couch and the table - climbing over the legs of everyone still sat there. He leads you to the staircase, and you stop to see if Alex is fine before you go up. He’s sitting with some teammates and not lying face down somewhere, like you feared. And he doesn’t see you go upstairs with Willy, either, so you decide that it’s safe. William leads you to the loveseat in the second floor’s hallway, where you’d found escape on so many parties at the Nylander’s before. You both sit down, but he takes hold of your legs and pulls them into his lap. “You have barely said a word since Alex’s screaming,” he said, placing a hand on your leg. “Yeah, I guess it just left me with a bad feeling,” you told him, looking out into the room instead of at him. “You know, he won’t remember it tomorrow,” he tried to calm you. “But I will,” you glanced at him before continuing. “And I know he’s drunk and not in his right mind, but I can’t keep from thinking that he’s just saying what he actually means,” you told him, and he reaches out to take your hand in his, keeping you from fidgeting and picking on your jeans. “I know he’s been rolling his eyes at us for years, but I don’t think he actually means what he said. I don’t think he meant what he said about me trying to steal you away from him. I’m not, I would be a really sucky big brother if I did that - it’s just that I like spending time with you, too, and we have never been together without him being there, it’s him that goes off doing something else - and if he means that I can’t talk to you just because he isn’t, then he’s just being an asshole,” he squeezes your hand. You guess he’s right and you’re finally able to swallow the bad feeling. “Uhm, hey, Alex can barely stand by himself, so,” a girl from your school interrupted yours and Willy’s moment - seeming very awkward for having done so. “I guess it’s time to end this party,” William says, letting go of your hand and clapping his own two together. You get up and thank the girl for coming to get you, before you go down stairs to find Alex mumbling about God knows what. “Do you think you can deal with him while I get everyone out of here?” William asks you, placing a hand on your arm when he talks to you. You nod, and he smiles. “I’ll come help you as soon as I get this cleared,” he says, motioning to the living room that still had quite a few people in it, even if some had left already. “Heyyy,” Alex smiles when he sees you this time. If he’s already forgotten about the situation earlier or if he’s just happy to see you without his older brother by your side, you don’t know. “Hi,” you smile, “how are you feeling?” you ask him, taking his hand and helping him to his feet. “Uhm, not great, but not terrible either,” he tells you, making you shake your head laughing. You position yourself under his arm, so that he can lean on you. “Let’s get you to bed, then,” you tell him, starting towards the stairs again. “B-but, I’m having a party,” he whines, and you laugh again. “The party is over, Alex, everyone’s going home,” you explained to him, and he eventually decides to at least try to walk up the stairs. “Wait, where were you? I was looking for you,” he asks you, somewhere on the way up the stairs, his weight leaning on you so much that you could barely talk. “I was upstairs,” you tell him through your labored breath, and he asks you what you were doing upstairs when the party was downstairs. “Just talking,” you tell him, deciding that it was probably best to not say with who. But of course, the next question from your nosy best friend is just that. But before you can come up with a clever answer, he’s already guessed it. “Willy, probably. Right?” You nod, and he doesn’t say anything else before you get him to his room and onto his bed. “Why do you hang out with Willy so much?” he asks you, sitting on his bed and desperately trying to open the buttons on his not so clean, spilled upon, light blue button up - but failing. “Because he’s my friend and I like him, Alex. But I spend a lot more time with you, so don’t you be worried,” he rolls his eyes at you again, but there’s a small smile tugging on his lips. “But tonight’s my birthday party and you only hung out with him,” he says, small traces of ‘whiny 4 year old’ in his voice. “I did spend time with you. You even got me a little tipsy! But then you got ridiculously drunk and only wanted to talk to girls - girls that aren’t me - so I decided to hang out with Willy, Elias and Charlotte instead,” you explained and he seemed to take it, smiling when you finally took over the unbuttoning of his shirt. “But what were you doing upstairs talking with Willy? Where you just talking?” he tries to sound like he’s a protective older brother, but he’s failing. “We were just talking, Alex. What else would we be doing?” you chuckle, as you finally get the last button open and help him pull it off. “I don’t know, unholy stuff?” he says, unable to fight off the smile tugging at his lips. You throw your head back laughing at your ridiculous best friend, deciding to not answer his accusations you push him down onto his back and pull the duvet over him. “Stay here, I’m gonna get you a bottle of water and a bucket - just in case,” you tell him and he nods. When you come down the stairs, the house is just about empty, except from Willy, who’s tying Alex’s just as drunk friend, Linus’ shoes. “I called his mum, just gonna wait here with him until she gets here and I’ll be right up,” he tells you from the hallway, when he hears you coming down. “Yeah, we’re good, I’m just gonna get him a bottle of water and a bucket... I doubt that he’s gonna feel well tomorrow,” you inform him before going into the kitchen. When you come back up, Alex has managed to kick off his jeans, and you’re thankful that you didn’t have to help him with that. His eyes are barely open. “Here, please drink a little bit before you fall asleep,” you give him the bottle and he grunts but does as he’s told. “I’m sorry that I got mad at you and Willy,” he mumbled between gulps of water. You smile, telling him that it’s okay. You put the bottle on his nightstand and he lays back. You’re about to leave when he grabs your arm. “I think Willy is in love with you, and-and I think you’re in love with him, too,” he says, his words completely freezing you in your spot. “I just don’t want you to forget about me,” he says, half asleep - and his words pull you out of your trance. You bend down, pulling his sleepy form into a hug. “I’ll never forget about you, Alex. Never. I love you,” you tell him, kissing his temple before letting go of him. “I love you, too,” he says, his words barely coherent. You turn around, finally leaving the room and you almost scream when you see the brother in question standing in the doorway. He chuckles at your reaction, and moves backwards into the hallway of the second floor to let you exit Alex’s bedroom. “Jesus, how long have you been standing there?” you ask him, your hand still clutched to your chest. He shrugs, smiling, and your hearts starts beating faster at the thought of him hearing what Alex said to you. But the sight of the living room with the lights on, snaps you out of your thoughts and the small panic building in your chest. “Where are the trash bags?” you sigh, turning to look at Willy who’s behind you. He sighs as well and leaves you to find said trash bags. The next hour is spent picking up trash and cleaning up - Willy following you around with the bags while you pick up the trash. There are no words exchanged, but you work together in comfortable silence. He cleans the floors, while you wipe the tables and kitchen benches. “Don’t you have a curfew?” William asks you when you’re finally done - the digits on your phone telling you that you’re already past 3 AM. “Uhm, usually, but not tonight, no,” you told him. Your parents had decided that since it was Alex’s birthday party and at the Nylander’s house, you could stay till the party was over. Considering that you were basically a host - that seemed fair. And besides, Alex had promised your mom that he would follow you home... Before you could even tell Willy about his little brother’s broken promise, he was already offering. “I’ll follow you home. I won’t let you walk home alone in the middle of the night,” he says, the smile on his mouth tells you that he wasn’t just doing it because he felt like he had to, but because he wanted to. You nodded, not even bothering to try and fight him on the matter - also, you wanted him to. You put on your outerwear and shoes, yourself bundling up in a scarf as March in Sweden still could be considered winter. “That’s cute,” Willy smiles, his hand coming up to pull the big scarf even further up around your cheeks and ears - and you already feel warmer because of his little comment. You walk out in the cold night, you a few feet ahead of him as he locks the door behind him. “Hey, slow down,” he whispers as he catches up to you. “Slow down? It’s freezing cold,” you smile behind your huge scarf, and he nods. “With this tempo, you’ll be home in just 5 minutes,” he informs you, and you chuckle at his dramatics. It would take you 8 minutes, at least. “Isn’t that a good thing?” you ask him, your smile turning into a smirk. He shrugs again, just like he had when you’d asked him how long he’d been standing in Alex’s doorway about an hour earlier. “I don’t know, it’s just that it means less time with you - like I said earlier - we never spend time together just me and you,” he spoke bravely. You just smiled at his statement, nodding when he looked at you for some kind of conformation. “Uhm, this is going to sound weird but... Which one of your hands are the coldest?” he asks, and you laugh as a reaction to his question. “I don’t know, this one maybe?” you grin, holding up your right hand. He nods and moves to your right side, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. You roll your eyes at him, even if you know very well that he’s the only reason that there’s warmth spreading in your body. “What?” he asks, and you just shake your head, a wide smile spreads on your rosy cheeks (if they were rosy because of the cold or because of his hand in yours - you would never know). “I just thought that it was a nice bridge into holding your hand,” he tells you, and you laugh out loud this time - forgetting that you’re walking through a suburban area in the middle of the night, both you and William bursting out into giggles when you see the light come on in one of the windows. “You have to be quiet,” he whispers, leaning in close like there’s any chance that they could hear you at that volume. “If I have to be quiet then you have to stop saying stupid shit like that,” you argue. “Stupid shit like what?” he asks, his free hand held up to his chest dramatically. “Stupid shit like asking me which of my hands is colder just so you can hold my hand,” you chuckle, your brain starting to see the red lines between this sudden hand holding and Alex’s words earlier. “Stupid shit like pretending that you didn’t hear the whole conversation between me and Alex when you obviously did,” you whisper in a moment of bravery, swallowing hard once the words are out and your heart starts beating in a million miles an hour. He looks down for a second, before turning to look at you - stopping right there in the middle of the street, in the middle of the night. “If what Alex said isn’t true, William - you have to stop doing all these things. I try to seem cool and nonchalant about it all, like you holding my hand or letting me sit in your lap doesn’t make my heart feel like it’s gonna beat itself out of my fucking chest,” you start, letting go of his hand and continue on the journey toward your house - knowing that he would follow you regardless of his feelings towards you. “So if you’re not feeling that, you-you can’t.. I mean, you fucking kissed me on New Year’s Eve and I haven’t stopped replaying it in my mind ever since,” the panic building in your chest starts messing up your words, but you’re interrupted before you can say anything else. “Y/N,” he grabs your hand again, his fingers intertwining with yours without you even having to think about it - it’s just meant to be like that. “I kissed you on New Year’s Eve because I really wanted to kiss you, and I thought that if someone saw or if you didn’t like it, I could just ‘it was a New Year’s kiss and you were the closest girl, sorry’. And there wasn’t a space for you to sit, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t want you to sit in my lap. I wanted you close to me. And every other situation where I could have sat down somewhere else, could have done something else, I just always end up next to you in some kind of way because I can’t fucking stay away from you,” he explains, his voice is soft and slow. “You know, I wish that I could say that you’re like another little sister to me,” he says, and you look up, meeting his eyes. “But you’re not,” his last words come out as whispers, and he lets go of your hand only to put his hands on your waist and pull you into him. You stand with your bodies pressed together, your faces inches apart for a minute, his eyes flicking between your eyes and your lips. Until he leans in closer, not all the way, but enough to press his forehead against yours and your eyes fall closed. Just a little push up on your toes and your lips would be on his - you just had to find the courage. Your arms rest upon his, your fingers curling around his upper arms. He jerks forward a little bit, his nose side by side with yours and it’s the last little kick you needed to push up on your toes and plant your lips to his in a kiss. One of his arms curls around your waist, pulling you even closer, while his other hand comes up to the side of your face, making its way in between your thick scarf and your skin to hold you to him. Your own hands creep upwards and end up on the back of his neck, your fingers inching their way underneath his beanie and into his hair. His lips move away from yours for just a second, your lips following his like a magnet, before he comes back in with a deeper kiss - his hand sliding back, into your hair. You feel so warm with his hands around you and his lips moving against your lips, the cold air around you long forgotten. At this point you could’ve worn a summer dress and you wouldn’t have been cold.    When you eventually pull away, you are both out of breath. Willy pulls you back in immediately, but in a hug this time, and you both laugh softly - happily. Letting go of his embrace of you, he kisses your cheek once and then your lips once, then twice. “I think we’ve been standing here for like 5 minutes or something,” you giggle, looking around you at the houses around you, only lit up by their porch lights. “Could stand here all night,” he says, his smile just as cheesy as his statement. You roll your eyes at him, but you don’t bother even trying to conceal your smile as you take his hand and pull him with you down the street, only a few minutes from your house. “What? Are you trying to get away from me or something?” he chuckles at your new pace. “I’m dragging you along with me, aren’t I?” you laugh, stopping and turning around to face him - your arms go up to slide around his neck and you pull him down to kiss him again. His own arms circle your waist and after the fourth or fifth kiss - you’re not really sure - he tightens his hold on you and lifts you up. He starts walking and only when you’re a few feet from your driveway, he lets you back down. “Uhm, thanks for the ride?” you joke, making him laugh - but you quickly put your hand over his mouth, suddenly remembering that your parents are asleep - or worse, your mom is awake waiting for you, not being able to sleep until she knows you’re home. You stop on your front porch, dreading saying goodbye. You get up on your toes, your arms sliding back around his neck in a hug, his arms come around you and he pulls you into him. “Mm, now I don’t wanna leave you,” he mumbles into your hair, and warmth spreads through your body. “Mm, I’ll probably come over tomorrow,” you tell him, and you can feel him nodding. “But it won’t be just you and I, then,” he says, pulling back from the hug only to press his lips to yours in a deep kiss. His hand come up to your face, and his lips moves against yours. “We won’t get to do this,” he whispers between kisses, and you hum against his lips. You pull away from each other quickly when you hear the lock turn and the door start to open behind you, your mother appearing behind it. “Oh, hi, William,” she says when she sees him instead of his little brother. “What happened to Alex?” she asks, and you’re preparing to come up with a lie about him staying home and cleaning up or something, but William just straight up tells her the truth. “But we were both very responsible and put him to bed and cleaned up and everything,” he says, and your mom chuckles. “And of course, I didn’t let her go home alone at this hour,” he adds, making your mom’s fondness of the oldest Nylander brother grow even greater. “I am very grateful, William, thank you,” she smiles at him before turning to you. “Are you going to come inside or are you just going to stand out in the cold all night?” she asks, making you laugh. “I was going to come inside, but then you came out and Willy here just had to play this game I like to call ‘how much can I charm Mrs. Y/L/N today?’” you said, making them both laugh, your mom with an embarrassed undertone. “Yeah, yeah, come on in now, it’s nearly 4AM,” she smiles, saying goodbye to Will before leaving – the door still open. You watch as she starts on the stairs up to the second floor, and you quickly hide behind the door, stepping up on your toes to plant one last kiss, or two, on his lips. “Good night,” you smile, and he kisses you one more time before he says the words back to you. “Uhm, text me when you get back. You know, 17 year old boys can be kidnapped, too,” you say, making him throw his head back laughing, potentially waking the neighbors. “Yeah, thank you, now I have to run home,” he chuckles before walking backwards down your driveway, looking at you looking at him, your head sticking out from behind the door – smiling.

March 2014 After coming home and going to bed only minutes before the clock struck 4AM and talking to Willy on the phone until he got back – and then reliving every kiss and every touch between you and Willy until you fell asleep – it was safe to say that you slept in. The numbers on your phone had inched their way past 2PM before you hauled your ass back over to the Nylander house, after having received snapchats from both the brothers – and their mom. You’d woken to a snapchat from Willy who’d woken up and thought that he had dreamt all of last night’s events until he saw the evidence in his phone – a screenshotted snapchat from a friend with you on his lap, and the phone call of 13 minutes at 4AM. Next came the snaps of an hungover Alex, and then the snapchats from Camilla who admired how exceptionally clean her house was after the work you and Willy had done after the party. Camilla grabs you the second you come through the door, kissing your cheek. “You’re a saint, honey,” she exclaims and you laugh. “You can’t give me all the credit,” you chuckle. “I know, I know, I already made sure he knows how thankful I am – he doesn’t let me kiss his cheek anymore, though,” she laughs before letting go of you and pointing you towards the basement where you could find both her sons. “Alex, Y/N is here,” she screams and you start toward the open door leading to the stairs. William meets you halfway down the stairs, only stopping on the step beneath the one you stopped on, his face only inches from yours, his lips in just the right height. “He’s barely awake,” he whispers, quickly glancing behind you before pressing his lips to yours in a short but soft kiss, bringing all the warmth and feelings from last night right back to you. You pull back with a smile, your arms circling around his waist as you step past him, kissing him one more time before you continue down the stairs and Willy up the stairs. “Hey, you sappy piece of shit,” you shout at your best friend before dumping your ass down on the end of the couch. He groans, not even wanting to know why you called him sappy.

April 2014 “Mom and dad are going to bed right now, give me a few minutes,” you text William, who’s standing in your backyard. You wait until you hear both of them go into their room, and then a minute or two more, just in case one of them forgot something, before opening the door in your basement that lead up into the backyard, where Willy was standing. His lips turn up into a smile when he sees you, quickly stepping inside to avoid the cold that still comes around at night during April in Sweden. “Hey,” he whispers as he steps right up into your personal space – personal space that you didn’t mind sharing with him. “Hi,” you whisper back, pushing up on your tippy toes to peck his lips, before walking past him and into your bedroom. You had moved bedrooms a few years ago, from the second floor to the basement where you could have more privacy and more space. You were especially thankful for the extra privacy now. His hands sneak around your waist at the end of the hallway to your bedroom, his jacket and shoes left at the door, and he presses a kiss to your neck that’s so conveniently exposed because of the high bun you’d tied your hair into. You stop with your hand on the doorknob, letting him leave another kiss or two on your neck before you open the door to your low lit, cozy bedroom. You both fall into your bed, your head resting on his bicep while his hand plays with yours. The conversation between the two of you flows freely and easily, the question of Netflix and which movie to put on before you eventually end up with your tongues in each other’s mouths not needed. He asks about your day and you ask him about his, and then he tells you the story of how he managed to sneak out the front door without no one noticing with added dramatics, just how you like it – and you both laugh softly. You launch into a full review (with spoilers) of this book you just finished, and he listens carefully as you tell him about the characters and the little plot twists. He doesn’t really care for romantic novels with feminist undertones, or novels at all, but he still listens, hums and asks questions because he just likes to listen to you talk and get riled up about fiction. He sits up slightly, leaning on his elbow as he listens to you ramble on – his finger moving to an inch of exposed skin between the hem of your t-shirt and the waistband of your sleeping shorts, tracing soft, little circles. He smiles when you finally tell him about the book’s ending and your reactions to it – how you’d thrown it across the room, too angry to even cry about it – and he chuckles, mumbling about how cute that must’ve looked. His hand flattens on your stomach, his entire hand underneath your shirt, and your hand covers his - to  the extent that your considerably smaller hand could. Your hand creeps up his arm before slowly returning back down to his hand. He smiles sweetly, leaning down and leaving a kiss on your lips – a kiss so full of love that it warms your entire body. Your hand slides back up his arm again, fingers circling around his bicep as a way of saying that you want him to keep kissing you. You can feel him smiling against your lips, leaving a few shorter pecks before a longer one, and then a deeper one. He lays down on his side, the arm you’re resting on embracing you, his hand landing on your shoulder and he pulls you into him. Your own hand takes a stride from his arm to his neck, fingers dipping into his thick, blonde locks. As the kiss deepens, his tongue sliding along your lip, his hand on your stomach slides to your hip, pulling your body close to his. The feeling washes over you fast – and it’s not the kind of feeling that easily washes away again. It’s not like the feeling of warmth when he first kissed you, but heat, unbearable heat. Your hand leaves his neck after having had your fingers fisted in his hair, moving to the hem of his sweater instead, your fingers slipping underneath, all the way until your hand is flat on his back, feeling his back muscles work when he shifts against you. You hum against his lip, your hand slipping to his front and feeling his abs and his chest underneath your fingers instead, the need to just feel all of him underneath the tips of your fingers just not stopping. He pushes you up and even closer with the hand underneath you, his lips moving to your neck and making you gasp softly. You wanted his hands all over you, wanted to feel him feeling you –  yet his hands stayed on your back and on your hips. You pushed against him, granting yourself a groan against your neck. A thought struck you… Maybe he didn’t dare touch you anywhere else, scared that it wasn’t something you wanted. After all, with the situation being what it is, your alone time with William had been limited, meaning that you hadn’t had much time to explore each other. You decided to try something new, putting insecurities behind you and pushing him to his back and climbing on top of him to straddle him. His arms immediately wrap around you, but not for the reasons you first thought. Before you can put your weight down on him, he’s pulling you back to your previous spot next to him. “No, no,” he swallows, “you can’t do that,” his last words comes out, his hands retrieving from being wrapped around you to rest on your hip instead. You didn’t know why but it felt like he was keeping you at a distance. “Why?” you ask, your voice a lot weaker than you’d meant for it to be. His eyes shoots open in realization and his hand comes up to the side of your arm, before it quickly moves on to cup your cheek. “No, no, it’s not you, it’s me… uhm, it’s not your fault, or it kinda is your fault but really it’s mine, it’s,” he mumbles, his sudden nerves taking over his ability to form coherent sentences. “You’re not making sense, Willy,” you say, curling your hand around his wrist as his hand is still placed on your cheek. He takes a deep breath before he leans forward, kissing your lips before moving his lips to your forehead and pulling you into him, his arms wrapping around you. “It’s just that you, you mean a lot to me, and I just, I like you so much, and I’m trying really hard to not make you uncomfortable,” he pauses, taking another deep breath. “Because you, you really… you turn me on, like a lot and very easily, and I’m just trying to not make you feel uncomfortable and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything that you don’t want to, and I just really want you to feel safe and… comfortable with me,” he finishes, and you wrap your arm around his torso and press your lips to his chest. “There’s no one I feel more safe and comfortable with than you, okay? And I… is this why you don’t touch me?” you ask, the realization hitting you. “I mean, I-I touch you,” he says, trying to avoid where this question was going. “Will, you touch my waist, and my hips, and just, really it’s just places that are so appropriate that you could touch me there while my dad was present,” you say, making him laugh – and you’re glad, because even if it wasn’t your intention, it seemed to loosen him up a bit. “I guess, yeah,” he sighs, “just scared that you won’t like it and that you’ll push me away, and you know, it doesn’t really help my case,” his lips turn up at the last part, and so do yours as well. You pull yourself closer to him and press your lips to his in a deep kiss, and another one following after. “You know, you turn me on, too,” you say, heat rushing to your cheeks, but you smile as you see the blush creeping up his own cheeks. “And even if I don’t feel ready for all that, yet, I still feel really safe and comfortable with you and I really don’t mind that , uhm, that, that you’re turned on as well, because I know that you won’t pressure me, and I really wouldn’t mind if you touched me more,” you tell him, both of you having shy smiles on your lips. “Okay,” he nodded, trying hard to keep his smile from turning into a full blown grin. You stared at each other until your smiles became manageable again, and one of you leaned in to kiss the other again. Only a few kisses before his hand came up to the side of your face and the kiss was deepened, and you fell back into it. Bodies pushing against each other and tongues fighting for dominance. His hand is fisting your hair and you gasp against his lips when his hips roll into yours a little harder than he’d planned and you felt him hard against you for the first time – except for that one time where you’d had your feet in his lap under the blanket during movie night with an unknowing Alex on the other side of the coffee table, and you’d accidentally brushed against his accidental boner with your foot. Will pulled away slightly, and you could tell that he was a little panicky over the fact that you’d felt his obvious arousal against your body. “Don’t, don’t stop,” you whispered, pressing your lips back on his, and his arms tighten around your waist again, holding you to him. The feeling of his hardness against you had sent a wave of need trough your body, stopping between your legs. Your hand found his on your back and wrapped around his wrist, and you, with very little force, guided his hand further down until he found his way to your behind and he pressed you against him. You both moaned into the kiss and his hand slid down your thigh to the back of your knee to pull your leg over his hip, his thigh immediately pushing between yours. And it felt so good that you could barely concentrate on kissing him, and you only wanted more. You used your arm to push yourself on top of him, back to the position you’d tried before your previous conversation started. You started kissing down his neck, while your hands found their way underneath the hem of his shirt, feeling his muscles under your fingers. His own hands roamed your sides, from your thighs to your hips, from your waist to the point where his fingers slightly brushed over the side of your boobs. The action had your hips pushing down onto his, his hardness perfectly positioned under you and pressing into you were you ached the most. “Fuck,” he breathed, pushing his body up into a sitting position. He pressed his lips to yours in an openmouthed kiss, his hands on your bare waist after your t-shirt had bunched up. When you push your fingers into his hair, one of his hands come up to fondle your breast that’s only covered by a thin bralette. You moan into his mouth again, and faster than you can realize what’s happening, you’re flipped around and he’s over you. His hips rolling into yours and his lips finding your jaw, resulting in a moan that’s a little too loud for your liking. Your hand travel down his chest and abs, but it is soon stopped when William’s fingers curl around your wrist. “Fuck, we need to stop,” he curses, his forehead resting against your chest as he tries to calm himself. “I’m sorry, it’s just, my self-control stops at some point,” he mumbles, and you nod. “It’s okay,” you breathe, your hands coming up to soothingly brush through his hair, but he shakes his head and pulls away completely, moving off you and laying down on his back next to you. “You - you can’t touch me,” he says and you nod, trying to focus on calming yourself. “No, sorry, I need to go home,” he starts getting up, careful not to touch you. “No, please don’t go,” you reach out, catching his hand. “Please stay,” you whisper. “I really need to go home and fix this, I’m sorry, baby,” he says, softer this time – still careful with the distance between your bodies. The nickname sends another wave of need crashing in between your legs. “Please, Will, you can’t leave now,” your voice comes out just as needy as you feel, “just… go into my bathroom and… fix it there,” you mumble, your cheeks warming up as you suggest it. “I really need you to stay a little longer,” you add once you can tell that he’s thinking about it, taking a step closer and looking up at him – putting your lips at a close distance to his. To which he lets out a deep breath and presses his lips to yours in a deep kiss before he disappears into your bathroom. You lay there in silence, staring into the ceiling. You couldn’t have stayed still to save your own life, the feeling between your legs too much. You move underneath your duvet with the hopes that the weight of it would help keep you still, but it didn’t – it just made you warmer. You let your hand wander down your torso and in between your legs, just over your shorts, in hope of some relief, but you quickly stop when you hear the bathroom door unlock. Will climbs back into bed and underneath the covers with you, his arms wrapping around you immediately. His lips finds your forehead and you press your body into his, like you wanted to cuddle, but really you wanted him to touch you. You didn’t want to seem too eager, so you softly pressed your lips to his neck like you sometimes would do when you cuddled. But you couldn’t keep it at that, your body craving his – you kissed a trail up his neck. “Babe,” he started, but he stopped when he saw your face and let you kiss him deeply. “Please, I can’t keep still,” you talk against his lips, and he hums back as your lips are already back on his. He lets you lead his hand to where you needed it. You let go of his hand and he lays it flat between your legs, making you gasp against his lips. “Lay back, baby, relax,” he talks, and you do as you’re told – rolling to your back. He kisses you deeper while simultaneously moving his fingers over your heat. Your fingers are fisted in thick blonde locks of hair, and he groans against your mouth as you tighten your grip. You arch your back into him and his fingers move to the band of your shorts. He looks at you for any signs that this isn’t what you want, but you only nod. His fingers disappear into the waistband of both your shorts and your underwear, a curse leaves his lips when he feels your wetness on his fingers. He watches you intensely to see your reactions when he touches you, when his fingers sink into you. He watches as your mouth falls open and your eyes closed, and a fond smile tugs at his lips when you breathe out small moans. Just the fact that Willy had his fingers inside you is enough to push you to the edge of your pending orgasm. His thumb moving in circles over your clit and his lips leaving kisses on your neck had you coming in no time, moans and heavy breaths flowing out of your mouth as your orgasm comes crashing.

May 2014 You find yourself in a very crowded Nylander living room once again. Teenager’s with red solo cups all around you, getting drunk in honor of William’s 18th birthday. You sit stiffly on Alex’s lap, who’d been very clear that you two had to hang out tonight, because you always disappeared during parties, but truly it was him who either tried to win over some girl or got really drunk – or both. And now he was deep in conversation with a friend of his that you barely knew and the conversation that surrounded the topic of some PlayStation game didn’t really interest you either. You found William looking at you from across the room, who smiled at how bored you looked and motioned for you to come to him instead. Alex barely even noticed that you left, his hand that had previously rested on your hip went straight into gesticulating and helping him get to some point about a PlayStation controller. You shake your head at Alex, making Willy laugh as he is still watching you closely. He smiles at you while you make your way over to him, and the couch he’s sitting in could in theory fit another person if Willy scooted closer to the girl on his left but instead he pulled you down onto his lap. His arm slides around your waist and pulls you closer while his other hand lands on your thigh – way higher than acceptable for a younger brother’s best friend but you let him anyway, knowing how much he wants to tell everyone and be able to kiss you, or hold your hand, or cuddle you whenever he wants, no matter who’s around. Knowing how he sometimes forgets that he can’t do those things because it just feels so natural. The girl next to Willy looks at you weird, eyeing his hand on your thigh. You try to act indifferent to her stare, turning your head and whispering in his ear. “Maybe move your hand a little further down towards my knee, your friend is looking at us weird,” you speak as quietly as you could before looking away again, to not make it obvious that you were whispering in his ear. He tilts his head to the side while looking at you, and you quickly grab his wrist to keep him from doing the exact opposite. Based on the smirk tugging at his lips and the smell of alcohol on his breath, you knew he wasn’t going to listen. The girl next to you is also smirking when the two of you start giggling – you desperately trying to push his hand away from you. You give her a look, a beg for her not to say anything and she smiles reassuringly back at you. William settles after a while, his hand a little further down, but not really far enough – but you let it go. It’s his birthday, after all. “Hey, I’m gonna go get another drink, come with me?” he asks you, and you nod, getting up and leading the way. When you get to the crowded kitchen, he takes your hand in his and pulls you out the door and into the backyard instead. “I thought you were getting a drink?” you question him, letting him lead you further away from the house. “Mm, no, I just thought that whispering ‘hey wanna go make out’ and make you blush before dragging you out of the house would maybe look a little suspicious,” he tells you with a smug smile on his lips. “See, you’re blushing just from me saying that,” he laughs, letting go of your hand and poking at your red cheeks. You playfully roll your eyes and throw your arms around his neck, to which he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him – just enough for your feet to leave the ground. 

His lips are pressed against yours, your feet hit the ground and you’re trapped between the wall behind you and his body. You giggle into the kiss and you can feel him smiling against your lips, a quiet hush leaving his. You get lost in his kisses, your fingers deep in his hair. His hands are on your waist, holding your body to his. Soon your tongues are sliding against each other and you’re both breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. His hips press into yours and you whimper through the kiss. One of his hands comes down to your behind, feeling you up while simultaneously pulling you closer and pressing his thigh in between yours, making a full moan roll from your tongue. He pulls his lips from yours, moving on to your neck. And somewhere between faded dance music from inside, utter bliss and lust, a thought pops into your mind. “Do you think we could sneak into your room without anyone noticing us?” you ask, your voice playful and airy. Will’s head comes up quickly, looking at you suspiciously. “What? Why?” he questions you, and your lips turn up into a wide smile. “Just wanna give you your gift in private,” you shrug, and a smile tugs at William’s lips, even if he still looks confused. “But you already gave me a gift,” he states, meaning the Crosby jersey that you and Alex had scraped your pennies together to get him. “Yeah, but this one is just from me,” you tell him, and he smiles through the blush that creeps up his cheeks. And you almost blush just from seeing his cute reaction. You stand up on your toes and kiss him deeply before you send him on his way. “You go first and I’ll be there in like five minutes,” you tell him. You wait outside for a minute or two, but then go inside to mill around for another couple of minutes just to not look like you’re going up the stairs with an agenda. Of course, you run into Alex who wonders where you’ve been. You tell him you’ve been in the bathroom with Jessica, and he believes you immediately, knowing how many times you and Jessica had snuck away for 20-30 minutes, hiding in the bathroom at birthdays, dinners and other get togethers. “And now I kinda have to go to the toilet again, alcohol just runs straight through me,” you lie, barely having had a cup of alcohol. He laughs and lets you go. You run upstairs, where the partygoers weren’t allowed to go – but having grown up with your mom being best friends with Camilla, you were hardly a guest anymore. “Took your sweet time,” William teases when you come through his bedroom door. “Ran into Alex,” you explain as you close the door behind you, locking it. “How’d you get out of that one?” he asks, his head rested against the wall behind his bed. “Told him I’d been in the bathroom with Jessica. I don’t even know if she’s here,” you chuckle, climbing into his lap – straddling him. “She’s here,” he smiles, taking your hands in his. “Good,” you breathe, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his in an immediately deep kiss. His hands finds their way to your back, underneath your blouse. Your own arms are circling his neck and pulling him up until he’s fully sitting, his body flush against yours. It never took long for your kisses to turn heated, but knowing that you didn’t have all the time in the world, you pushed your chest into his and kissed him harder as you pushed your fingers into his hair with a heavy hand – just like you knew always turned him on. He moaned into your mouth and you grinded your hips into his lap, granting yourself another one of his moans. “Did you just wanna lure me into my bed or what?” he breathes as you make your way down his neck with kisses. “Fooling me with a gift,” he jokes through his labored breath. “You’re getting a gift. Just shut up and take your shirt off,” you demand, a smirk tugging at your lips when you see his surprised but lustful look. He mumbles a curse but quickly gets his shirt off, throwing it to the floor. You don’t let yourself get distracted by his shirtless torso, just lift your hands into the air, nodding when he looks you in the eyes as to ask if you’re sure. He pulls your blouse over your head, letting it fall next to his shirt. His hands comes back to your waist immediately, feeling your soft skin underneath the tips of his fingers. You’re glad that you thought long enough to put on the nicest bra that you owned, black and a little bit lacy – even if you hadn’t planned this. His thumbs are creeping up to the sides of your bra and you lean back in, kissing him as a distraction while your hands finds the clasp on your back. You pull back from the kiss to make sure he’s watching when your bra falls from your chest, straps sliding down your shoulders. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes, his eyes switching between looking you in your eyes and your chest – a part of you that he hadn’t seen before. He rushed his lips to yours, kissing you hard and deep as one of his hands comes up to cup your boob. “Is this my gift?” he smiles against your lips, and you can’t keep your lips from turning into one as well. “No, it’s not,” you say before pressing into him again with both your lips and your chest. 

You let him kiss all over your chest, both enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin and the effect it has on him. As he starts kissing his way back up to your lips again, you let your hand trail down his torso, until you’re pushing it between your bodies, laying your hand flat over his bulge. His hand is softly, halfheartedly, wrapping around your wrist immediately. “Babe, you know you can’t do that,” he talks through lust, through the voice in his head telling him to just let you and give in to the pleasure. “I’ll take care of it, I’ll take care of you,” you whisper, your forehead pressed against his. “What?” his eyes shoot open. “Let me take care of you,” you say, pressing your lips to his before he can say anything else. He seems hesitant but lets go of your wrist, moaning into your mouth when you apply more pressure to his arousal. You shift your weight to your knees instead of his lap, giving yourself more room to stroke him over his jeans. You move your fingers to the waistline of said jeans, opening the button and sliding down the zipper. You manage to fit your hand between the tight fabric and his bulge, stroking him and enjoying the groans and moans escaping his throat. He suddenly moves his legs over the edge of the bed, moving his hands to the back of your thighs and standing up with you in his arms. Your hands come up to his shoulders. “I just wanna say something before this goes any further,” he tells you, eyes locking with yours. “Okay,” you nod. “I’ve been wanting to say it for a while, and I just feel like,” he starts, but it seems like he’s getting distracted – leaning in to kiss you instead. “I – I love you. Fuck, I wasn’t just gonna burst it out like that, I - ,” he rambles on, lost in his head and not noticing your uncontrollable smile. You place your hands on each side of his face, making him look at you. “I love you, too,” you tell him, and a smile spreads on his lips as well. “You do?” he asks, smile so wide that he can barely talk. “Mm, I’ve been in love with you a lot longer than I’d like to admit,” you tell him, smiling in to the kiss you’re placing on his lips. A couple more kisses and his tongue is once again playing with yours. His hands sliding up to your back as he lets you back down, your feet landing steadily on the floor. You let one of your hands slide from the back of his neck and down his torso until they land on the waistline of his open jeans. You use both hands to pull them down his thighs, revealing his white boxers with the small, wet spot on their front. He moans into your mouth when you put your hands on him again, stroking your hand over his bulge. You pull back from his lips, standing up on your toes and placing your mouth close to his ear as you hook your fingers into the band of his boxers. “Now, you have to tell me if I’m doing something wrong, or if you don’t like it. Guide me,” you whisper, and he nods, his head pressed against your shoulder – his heavy breaths causing your skin to tingle. You stand with your feet flat on the ground again, your forehead leaning on his chest as you look down, pulling his boxers down to meet his jeans again, watching as his hard member springs free. He gasps as you take his erection into your hand. You place a kiss on his chest as you start moving your hand, leaving another on his neck. His fingers creep up into your hair and he turns his head to find your lips through labored breaths. His kisses are desperate and lustful, moans and groans vibrating against your lips. One of his hands slides down your back and to your ass before he lets his fingers slide between your legs, making you moan into the kiss – making you a little weaker in the knees. “Stop, this is about you,” you whisper against his mouth. You move on to kiss his neck, making a trail down to his collarbone and his chest and then falling to your knees. You look up to see William’s mouth fall open, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Oh babe, you don’t have to…,” he pants, his hand coming down to cup your jaw. “I want to,” you breathe, “do you want me to?” you add, watching him as he struggles to find words, fighting with himself. “Yeah,” he eventually lets it roll of his tongue. “Just tell me if I’m doing something wrong or, or something you don’t like,” you tell him, and he nods. You take him into your mouth, keeping your hand around his shaft – your other hand on his thigh to keep yourself steady. His hands comes down to your head, gathering all your hair in his fingers to keep it from getting in your eyes as you start bobbing your head, going a little faster – his groans and heavy breaths urging you on. It doesn’t take long before his grip in your hair is tightening, and you press your thighs together at the thought of making him cum for the first time. You look up through your lashes, finding him with his head tipped back, his mouth open and panting. You push your tongue harder to his shaft, watching as his head falls forward again, his eyes clenched together as he curses. “Fuck, babe, I’m gonna come,” he groans, his eyes opening and immediately meeting yours – to which he curses again. You lead his member out of your mouth with one last lick of your tongue, only using your hands to help him to his climax, letting him cum all over your chest as he pulses in your hand. You take the scrunchie on your wrist and relieve William of his self-imposed make shift ponytail duties to make sure your hair don’t fall into the sticky liquid on your skin, before letting him take your hands in his to help you to your feet. He curses through his slowly calming breath, leaning his forehead to yours. “You’re so fucking amazing,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you deeply, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. “I just, I want you to know that I am definitely not just saying this because you just gave me a blowjob, but I fucking love you, so much,” he says sincerely and kisses you again, making you chuckle against his lips. “I know, and I love you, too, so, so much,” you tell him, kissing the side of his mouth when he smiles just as wide as yourself. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, quickly pulling up his pants and underwear again. “Uhm, I, for absolutely no reason at all, have a roll of toilet paper in my nightstand,” he laughs, blush creeping up his neck as he comes back to you with the roll in his hands. “I just had your dick in my mouth, you don’t need to blush, Will,” you laugh, making his cheeks even redder. “Also, you’re wiping your cum of my boobs, so, I don’t think you need to be embarrassed of your toilet paper roll,” you add, making him throw his head back laughing. “You’re so foul-mouthed,” he shakes his head laughing. “I kinda just want to stay locked in here with you all night,” he says, as he’s wiped it all off and thrown the used paper in his bin. “I wish,” you breathe, stepping closer to him and pressing your still naked chests to each other’s as you slide your arms around his neck. His hands comes back down to the back of your thighs and he lifts you up, letting you hook your legs around his hips. “So, uhm, did you like your extra birthday gift?” you ask, your fingers tangling in blonde hair. “Yeah,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you again. “So much better than I imagined it,” he whispers, his lips so close to yours that you could feel them moving. You pull back with red cheeks and a smirk. “You’ve imagined it?” you ask, biting your lip as you watch him fight the blush. “More times than I’d like to admit,” he chuckles, repeating your words from earlier. After talking yourself out of staying in his room all night, you finally leave his room with your blouse carefully tucked back into your jeans and your hair back down around your shoulders. You come down the stairs and immediately spot Alex, deciding to jump on his back and give him the attention he’s probably gonna claim he’s not getting, before he points out that you’ve been ‘in the bathroom’ the last 40 minutes. Alex takes an ungracious pirouette, swinging you around, making it possible for you to catch William’s eyes as he comes down the stairs, your smile spreading to twice its size – his own spreading as well, mouthing the three words he’s been wanting to tell you for far too long. “I love you,” June 2014 You come up the stairs from the Nylander’s cellar after having spent most of the day with Alex watching serial killer documentaries on Netflix, about to go home for dinner. William joins you in the hallway, whispering plans of sneaking out to come see you later that night while you put on your shoes. You step outside, Will’s head sticking out from inside and pressing his lips to yours, his hand coming up to your neck to hold you to him as he kisses you, before telling you he loves you and letting you walk home with a warm feeling in your chest – your head spinning with terrible ideas on how to break the news to your best friend that you’re dating his older brother. That you’re in love with William. Around 8PM, someone’s at the door – but you’re comfortable on the couch, on your tenth level of Candy Crush in a row – so you just shut up and let your mom deal with it. You immediately recognize Camilla’s voice as she and your mom goes into the kitchen, you hear them giggling about drinking wine on a Thursday night and you decide to just shut your ears and ignore them. Candy crush and ignoring yapping between middle-aged women is long forgotten when you hear Camilla’s hushed voice ask for you, though. “No, she’s in her room, I think. Do you want me to go get her?” your mother asks, and Camilla quickly says no. Candy crush is officially forgotten and you try to push every guilty feeling of listening in on something you shouldn’t be listening to, to the back of your mind. “So, I think our kids are dating,” Camilla almost sounds nervous when she says it, and you have to clamp your hand over your mouth in order to keep yourself from cursing out loud. “What? Y/N and Alex?” your mother exclaims and you can’t help but roll your eyes that she would even think that. Camilla is silent for a second, and you’re guessing she’s taking a deep breath or shaking her head – or maybe both. “No, William,” she corrects your mother. “Michael was coming home from work and stopped to get the mail and I guess he saw them as Y/N was leaving our house. He said William leaned out the door and they kissed… and from that I’m guessing that Alex doesn’t know either,” she added, and you cursed yourself for not noticing Michael. “They know about us. Your dad saw us kissing and Camilla is over here telling my mom right now,” you quickly texted Willy, taking a deep breath before getting up and inserting yourself to the conversation in the kitchen. “Fuck, he was acting really weird when he came home. What are they saying?” he texted you back. You quickly texted him back that you were gonna go talk to them to make sure that they don’t get anything wrong and that you’d call him later. “I’m not in my room and I’m sorry for listening in on your conversation,” you say as you turn up in the doorway to the kitchen. Your mother still looks to be in shock, but Camilla smiles at you, motioning for you to come sit down. “So, you and William?” Camilla starts, her voice is soft and calming, her hand comes up to your shoulder as if to make you feel like you can talk freely. “Yeah,” you try to keep it from happening, but you can’t possibly keep the corners of your mouth from turning up and your cheeks from blushing, your hands immediately coming up to cover your face. “I’m sorry for not telling you guys, it’s just, like you guessed, Alex doesn’t know and I – we have no idea how to tell him, and I really don’t want him to hate me. Also I’m scared of what you’re going to say… age gap and all,” you told them. Camilla’s hand is still on your back, moving in soothing circles. “It’s okay, Y/N. And Alex will get over it, I’m sure of it. And I’m not mad,” she tells you, and you both look over at your mom who looks to be deep in thought. “How long has this been going on?” she asks, she sounds calm but you’re not sure. “I guess it really started in March, after Alex’s birthday,” you told them, and you could almost see the lightbulb lighting up above her head. “Yeah, that makes sense,” she says, and she tells Camilla about that night when you and Willy had been talking (or kissing) on your porch and she’d come out. Her stare softens when she looks at you next. “I guess, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. You’ve been in love with him for long time, haven’t you?” she states, making your cheeks flare up and your lips tug upwards again. “Think I’ve might’ve had a crush on him since I was thirteen,” you mumble, to which they both smile. 

“I always thought that, you know, Will’s got a lot of younger siblings, thought that he was just looking out for you, that he was just doing his ‘older brother’ thing,” Camilla says, making your cheeks feel even hotter. “I mean, you’ve been around longer than his actual little sisters,” she laughs, taking a sip of her wine. “But I’ve also had my doubts sometimes, I think I’ve picked up on a fair share of flirting over the last year – and Alex’s eye-rolling,” “Why’s Alex rolling his eyes?” your dad emerges from the hallway, making all three of you silent, not knowing what to say. “Uhm, Y/N has a boyfriend,” your mom tells him. “What? Alex?” his eyes shoot your way, horrified. “No, dad. It’s William,” you tell him, looking down in fear of what’s he’s going to say to his daughter dating someone who’s two years older. “Oh, thank God it’s not Alex,” he exclaims dramatically, sitting down in the chair across for you, making you and your mom burst out laughing while Camilla sits gaping next to you. “Dad!” you scold him, and he shrugs. “I’m sorry, Camilla, but if it helps, it’s a huge compliment to your other son. Will’s a lot more polite, more of a gentleman,” he says, to which Camilla shakes her head laughing, your mother doing the same thing. “Wait, so you’re not mad?” you ask him, shocked by his reaction. “I mean, I would prefer if you stayed away from boys for a few more years, but I trust Willy, he’s a good guy – and I’ve seen how smiley and giggly you two get around each other, so it’s not really a shock either,” he shrugs, getting back up to find himself something to eat, leaving you, your mother and Camilla to stare it each other in shock. “We’re good. They’re not mad and my dad doesn’t want to kill you, like not even a little bit,” you texted Willy once Camilla left, half an hour later. “Good. I talked to my dad about it and he gave me the fucking talk…” he texted you back a few minutes later, making you chuckle to yourself as you pictured how absolutely awkward that must’ve been. Before you can reply to his text, another chimes in, making your phone vibrate in your hand. “TBH I’ve been more nervous about Alex wanting to kill me than your dad,”  

July 2014 William meets you in the hallway when you come through the door at the Nylander house. You had made plans with Alex to watch a movie after dinner, while simultaneously having planned with Willy that he was going to join the two of you. Other than Camilla cleaning up in the kitchen, there are no one around and the coast is clear – William leans in and plants his lips on yours, his arms sliding around your waist and lifting you off the floor as he kisses you. You quickly pull back when you hear Alex’s harsh words, your sock clad feet hitting the floor as William lets go of you. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he spits the words like their venom. At least that’s what it feels like to you. He turns around in his spot, half way down the stairs, and storms back up – two steps at the time - and all the guilt you have ever felt about not telling him about your relationship with his brother gathers up into a big ball in your throat, making it hard to breathe as you run after him, begging him to wait for you. “Alex, can you please just let me in so we can talk?” you beg him, trying to open his locked bedroom door. The door flies open and you almost fall forward and into the room at the shock, but the bigger shock is Alex’s words as he shouts them right at you. “Do not fucking talk to me right now,” he yells, before his eyes shifts to behind you, where William has followed you. “And you can stay the fuck away, don’t you even try!” And then the door is smacked in your face. You can’t help but let the tears spill, all your guilt and regret coming out as salty liquid. Will’s arms are around you immediately, and you cry into his chest as his hands move in soothing circles on your back. He leads you down stairs and lets you curl up in his lap, whispering that everything will be alright, that he’ll come around, until you calm down. Camilla comes and sits down next to you, placing a reassuring hand on your leg. “Hey, what happened?” she asks, obviously having heard Alex’s screaming and your begging. “He saw us,” you breathed, “we should’ve just told him right away,” you let another tear fall down your cheek. Will’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb catching the tear and wiping it away. “It probably would have been easier, yeah, but he won’t be mad at you forever,” she tells you, and William nods at her words, letting his fingers comb through your hair. “He’ll probably be mad at Will for a week, but he can’t stay mad at you for long, I know that,” As if on cue, you can hear Alex unlock and open his door upstairs, and you all know what it means. Will kisses your forehead before he lets go of his embrace on you, letting you climb out of his lap and make your way upstairs. Camilla whispering a good luck and staying behind with her son, while you head towards what you’re guessing will be the worst fight between you and Alex ever. You lean against the doorway into his room, scared that you’d make him more mad by just bursting in – even if it obviously was opened for you. “Are you just going to stand there or are you actually going to try and make me less mad about the fact that you’re sucking face with my brother?” he says, angrily, barely looking up at you as you close the door behind you and take the safe route of sitting down in his desk chair and curling your legs up under you, instead of sitting down in his bed with him. “I’m so sorry that I haven’t told you, I know we should have just told you right away but I was so scared of your reaction that I just kept putting it off,” you start off, noticing how he rolls his eyes when you say ‘we’. You swallow hard to desperately try to keep the tears at bay. “Why are you even dating him in the first place? It’s not fucking okay,” he spits, his words hitting you like a door in the face. “Alex, it’s not like you don’t know that I have feelings for him, and vice versa,” you try to keep the conversation calm, at least on your part. “No, I don’t. You have never said anything about having feelings for him, and he has never said anything about having feeling for you,” you can hear the anger behind every word. “No, I have never told you, but I know you know, Alex. On your birthday, you probably don’t remember because of how drunk you were, but after you screamed at us for everyone to hear how bad of a best friend I was and how bad of brother he was, for.. for letting me sit in his lap when there were no open seats, I put your drunken ass to bed and you told me that you were sorry for screaming at us and that you thought he was in love with me. And that I was in love with him. That you just didn’t want me to forget about you, which I never will. And you can’t tell me that that was just something you came up with while you were drunk, cause that would be bullshit,” you tell him, feeling your own anger bubble to the surface. He could be mad at you as much as he wanted, but saying that he didn’t know about the feelings between you and William, just because none of you had ever said the words to his face, was just stupid. “You wouldn’t have been rolling your eyes at us every time Willy as much as tries to sit next to me for all these years if you didn’t know that there was something behind it,” He’s silent for a while, and you know it’s because he’s out of arguments. “What happened to always telling each other the truth, huh?” he huffs, using the decade old promise against you – a promise between two kids who had no idea what life had planned for them, that had no idea that not being the same gender would make things harder for their friendship in their teenage years. “Yeah, we swore to always be honest with each other, but that was when we were kids, Alex, when we were 6 years old. At some point I realized that there are some things that you just don’t tell your best friend when that best friend is a boy. Like when I got my period - God, how many lies I came up with when I was bleeding out of my freaking vagina, and in pain for something that you wouldn’t understand at 12 years old. And same goes for developing a huge crush on your fucking older brother. Fuck, Alex, I’ve been in love with Will since I was like 14,” you can’t help but let your voice raise, your hopes of staying calm long gone – your tears threatening to spill after every word you said.    “It still doesn’t fucking make it okay. I don’t care if you’re in love. You went behind my back. You, my best friend, and my god damn big brother went behind my back. You lied to me. You didn’t tell the truth. If you think that you can come crying to me when he hurts you, when he breaks your heart, you thought fucking wrong,” he screams now, furious, and your tears finally come crashing down your cheeks. “You’re supposed to be the brother that I never got, you’re supposed to be protective of me,” you cry. “You should be happy that it’s your brother, whom you love and trust, that I know you look up to, so much. You should be happy that it isn’t some other guy that’ll hurt me. You know that Willy wouldn’t hurt me, you know it as well as I do. God, even my dad accepts it, that someone two years older is dating his little girl, because it’s Will, and only because it’s him,” you dry your tears with the back of your hand, the light grey of your hoodie turning dark when it slides over your wet cheeks. “Yeah, it fucking sucks that we didn’t tell you, and I’m fucking sorry. You can scream at me as much as you want, but I love him and I love you. You’re always gonna be my best friend, Alex, and I’m always gonna be yours, so fucking grow up and deal with it,” your last words are calm and steady, even with rivers of tears running down your cheeks, and you get up from your chair and you leave his room, closing the door behind you. You dry more tears on your sleeve when you walk back down the stairs, meeting Michael at the end, who meets you with open arms and a warm hug. He’d come home with the girls while you were up there, and immediately heard the screaming of his youngest son upstairs while simultaneously having seen the grave look on his oldest. Behind Michael, William is telling his younger sisters, who looks to have a far better reaction than Alex. And you can’t help but smile when Daniella wraps her arms around your torso, not reaching higher at just eight years old, and tells you that she thinks it’s really cool that you are dating her big brother. William is still sat on the couch, now sideways, and he pulls you closer to sit between his legs when you sit down next to him. You fill him in on the parts of the conversation that couldn’t be heard, like what you’d said. He’s got his fingers running through your hair, his lips touching your temple every now and then – and despite the fact that your best friend is upstairs more angry with you and his brother than ever before – it feels nice, finally being able to just be you and William without having to hide away. To be able to have more than a platonic arm around your shoulders, while his family roams around you, going on with their day. And it doesn’t take long before you’re asleep with your head rested on his chest and his arms around you. You’re woken up by the sound of William talking, and you quickly realize that he’s on the phone – on your phone. “Yeah, she woke up now. I’ll follow her home, yeah. Bye,” he ends the call. “Hey, you feeling better?” he asks, and you nod, happy that you’ve managed to sleep away the headache that came with the screaming and crying. “Your mom called, she wants you to come home,” he informs you, even if you already kind of gathered that information. He holds your hand all the way home, either that or his arm is around your shoulders, keeping you safely tucked into him. “I told your mom about the Alex situation,” he tells you. “Yeah?” you look up at him from your spot under his arm. “Yeah, I guess she could hear that I was kinda worried about you, so I just told her what happened, in short. That you fought and that you cried a lot, I mean, she’ll see that the second she sees you,” he informs you. “Oh, God, I look awful, don’t I?” you whine, pressing your cheek into his chest. “Hey, no, you do not look awful. You look just as beautiful as you always do. I’m just saying that I can see that you’ve been crying, and your mother will definitely see that,” he says, sincerely. He stops, his hand coming up to cup your cheek while he looks at you with eyes that demands that you meet his gaze. “I love you,” he whispers, not letting you say it back before he presses his lips to yours in a sweet but long kiss. “I love you, too,” you speak against his lips before kissing him again, pouring the overwhelming love you feel for him into the kiss. “Even though this really fucking sucks, I also feel like there’s a weight lifted off my shoulders. And I am really glad that we can finally just be us. Like, if Alex comes out of his room now and finds out that you’re following me home, he’ll probably be mad about it, but at least he won’t think that it’s weird. I’m just happy that we don’t have to hide from everyone anymore,” you tell him,  and he nods at your words, pulling you in with the hand that is holding yours and pressing a kiss to your temple. “I don’t have to pull you out of the house or look around the room to see who’s around to kiss you anymore,” he smiles, ducking down to catch your lips. He kisses you deeply on the porch before you enter your house, your mom meeting you in the hallway when she hears you come inside. Her expression softens when she sees you, blood shot eyes and red cheeks, and she pulls you into a hug. She also gives William a hug before she leaves the two of you to say goodbye. “I’ll call you before I go to bed, yeah?” he says and you nod, leaning up and pressing your lips to his. “You’re a really good boyfriend, you know that?” you whisper as you move from the kiss and into a tight hug. “I try my best. And also it’s just really easy with you,” he whispers back, and you can feel the first genuine smile spread on your lips since he met you in the hallway hours ago. Another kiss and another I love you and he’s on his way back home again.    “Camilla called after I spoke to William on the phone,” your mom tells you when you come into the living room. “She filled me in on what happened, a little more than Willy did. And she also told me that she thinks you and William seem really good together, that she thought that he handled it all really well and that he was really good to you,” she smiles as she tells you this, and a warm feeling fills your chest. “He is really good to me, mom, he really is. He makes me so happy, and he loves me, and I just hope that Alex can see that, too,” you say, laying down with your head in her lap so that she could draw her fingers through your hair. “He will. I know he will, honey,” she reassures you. An hour or so later, you’re tucked into bed with Willy on the phone. It has become routine, calling every night before you go to sleep. “You know, we can finally go out on a date now,” Willy says, and you can tell from the way he sounds that he’s smiling, making you smile as well. “Yeah, I know, we co- Hold on, I just got a text from Alex,” you interrupt yourself when you see the little banner with his name on it on top of your screen. “What? Seriously? I haven’t seen him since, you know, he saw us,” he sounds as surprised as you are. “Yeah, uhm, I guess I gotta go, he’s here,” you tell him, getting up from bed and throwing on a hoodie. “Oh, really? Text me after, I’ll probably be awake,” he rounds off the phone call while you send Alex a text that you’ll be right out. “Yeah. I’m just gonna say good night anyway, love you,” and you end the call once he’s repeated the words back to you and wished you good luck. You swallow hard before opening the door to Alex. You’d never opened that door for Alex in the night, it had always just been his brother. “I’m sorry,” he bursts out before you can say as much as hello. “I’m sorry, too,” you say it right back, and his arms are around you pulling you in for a tight hug. “Come in, let’s talk, yeah?” you say once you’ve pulled back from the hug, stepping aside to let him come in. You both settle into your bed, yourself with the comforter over your bare legs. “Can I just talk?” he asks, looking at you by his side. You nod, swallowing all the ‘I’m sorrys and explanations you had prepared for the moment he wanted to talk to you again. “I’m sorry that I screamed at you, I shouldn’t have,” he started. And you wanted to say that he had every right to be mad but you desperately fought the words forming on your tongue, to let him speak his mind. “Of course I know that you’re in love with Will, and it’s even more obvious that he’s in love with you – I just… It just hurt my feelings that you didn’t tell me, you and him both.” You choke back more feelings of regret and guilt, blinking back the tears that wants out just from the thought of having hurt your best friend’s feelings.  Meanwhile he’s pulling his knees up under his chin, looking straight ahead, out into your bedroom. “You’re right in everything that you said today. I was just being immature and irrational because I was hurt and my fear finally came true,” he says, and you can’t help but talk, even if just for one word. “Fear?” you ask. “Yeah, I don’t know what else to call it. I’ve always known that the day would come when you’ll be his and not mine anymore, when he’ll be your first priority and not me, when my mom will introduce you as William’s girlfriend and not Alex’s best friend. I knew the day would come, but I guess I didn’t think it would come so fast. I’m not ready to lose you yet.” “You’ll never lose me, Alex,” you whisper, letting a silent tear fall down your cheek, as you reach out and lay your hand on his arm. His hand covers yours. “I know, I know,” he whispers back. “I know I won’t actually lose you, but you and me both know that things will be different,” he looks over at you, and you nod, your lower lip between your teeth. Things would change, but the fact that Alex is your best friend would never. “I completely understand that it was difficult to tell me. It downed upon me earlier that you have never told me about a crush, never said a word about some boy you liked, even if I’ve told you about every single one of my crushes – and it makes sense now because it’s been Will for as long as crushes has been a thing for you. Because, obviously, you could have told me about your crushes. But it would have been weird because your crush has always been my older brother,” he talks freely, every bit of anger in his voice from earlier gone. “I understand that I haven’t made it easy, with my eye-rolling and, apparently, drunk screaming. And I most likely would have been immature and made gagging noises and rolled my eyes until they nearly fell out if you did tell me, but I do wish that you would have just told me from the start. So that I could have been a part of it, if that makes sense? Because from the looks of what I saw earlier today, this has been going on for quite some time?” he ends his speech with a question, but it doesn’t look like he’s done quite yet. Your eyes meet his, and his expression softens. “I guess I just want your complete honesty from now on,” he finishes and it’s your cue to start talking. “It all started on the night of your birthday,” you took a deep breath before launching into your long explanation. “And I know that that is a hell of a long time to keep it from you, and I don’t have a valid excuse for that, other than I was scared. But, you know, over the last year he’s been flirting with me a lot, and I didn’t really understand that that’s what it was until that night,” you tell him, along with the full story of what really happened at his birthday party and the conversation you had in his bedroom that night. “On our way home, I confronted him about it, because he had obviously heard what you said, and I told him how it affected me when he would do things like let me sit in his lap, because of how stupidly in love with him I was. I am. He also kissed me on new year’s eve without anyone noticing, and other than a few texts that same night, he’d never said a word about it. And I obviously never forgot.” Alex listened intently, small expressions like humming and his eyebrows lifting as reactions to your words. “So he told me about his feelings for me and we ki- you don’t wanna hear about this,” you interrupted yourself, to which Alex shook his head and chuckled. “Well, it’s all gone slowly from there, because we obviously haven’t had the opportunity to spend a lot of time together, alone, with the situation being what it is. When we have spent time together, it’s been sneaking away at parties or him sneaking out of the house after everyone’s gone to bed, you know. And our parents found out just a couple of weeks ago, because your dad saw us kissing when we thought no one was around,” you tell him, and he nods, taking it all in.    He scoots closer, laying his arm over your shoulders and letting you lean into him. “That reminds of something you said today. You said that even your dad accepts it, because it’s Will. And I said some absolute bullshit about him breaking your heart and that you can’t come to me crying, and again, you’re completely right… I don’t think that will happen, but against my strong beliefs, if something does happen, I’ll always be your best friend and I’ll always be there for you, and if I need to, I know I can knock him out,” he says, and you can tell he’s smirking at the last part and you finally let a laugh roll off your tongue. You both fall silent after that, finally feeling calm with Alex’s arm around you and with the words of his forgiveness still echoing in your ears. “Are you going to forgive Will as well?” you whisper, thinking about their mother’s words from earlier, how she’d said that Alex couldn’t stay mad at you for long but that it would take longer with William. “I’ll probably give him the silent treatment for a week,” he says matter of factly, and you can’t help but burst out laughing. “What?” Alex asks, looking down at you, under his arm. “It’s just, that’s exactly what your mother predicted,” you explained, and a smile tugged at his lips. “Fuck, that woman knows me to well,” he jokes and you burst out laughing again. And it felt good laughing again, in a way that only your best friend knew how to make you laugh. “Now I can’t do that. The question is; Do I outdo myself and give him the silent treatment for two weeks? Or do I just forgive him right away so that my mother thinks better of me,” he thinks out loud. “I think you should forgive him right away,” you say after a while. “But I don’t want to,” he whines, but you know he means it. “If someone deserves to be forgiven right away, it’s him. Not me. If it was up to him we would have told you after a week,” you said, releasing a deep breath. You can sense that he’s tensing up, but his arm stays around you. “Why?” he asks, and you take another deep breath. “First of all, I was really scared of what your reaction would be. You know, with the eye-rolling and all that. Also, when you screamed at us on the night of your birthday party, you said that Will had been trying to steal me away from you for years, and I couldn’t help but think that it was how you really felt. But I also wanted to see if it would work out between me and Will before I said anything to anyone,” you told him. “What? Did you not think it would work out? You’re best friends and you’ve known him all your life. And you’ve been in love with him for years, right? It’s kinda disgusting but it’s obvious that you’re like meant to be or whatever,” he said, so low that it could be categorized as whispering. “I never doubted my own feelings, or our friendship. I just couldn’t believe that he was in love with me. But he proved me wrong,” you finished, leaning more into Alex, who stayed quiet. “I forgive you, and I’ll forgive him, too, I promise. But not until tomorrow, at like 4 o’clock,” he says after a while of silence. He manages to get you smiling again, even if you were worried that he would get angry at you again. “Thank you, Alex,” you breathe, your arm moving around his waist and you hug him to you. “Yeah, yeah, just no making out around me and no details that I definitely don’t need, okay?” he chuckles, and you do the same. “Deal,” you tell him, securing the promise with a pinky swear. “Now, I’m gonna go home before you fall asleep on me and I end up sitting here all night with a dead arm, okay?” he tells you, smiling. You roll your eyes at him as he gets up from the bed. “Dead arms and force-cuddling is now reserved for my brother, thank you very much,” he smirks and earns a pillow to the head for the comment. “Excuse me, you like my cuddles,” you tell him as you follow him out of your room. “You’ll see. You’re going to miss them when you’re not getting any,” you add on once he starts shaking his head. It’s all forgotten, though, when he hugs you and tells that he loves you – and good night.

August 2014 Going to the lake with your friends was one of your absolute favorite summer activities. After a period with some not-so-sunny and not-so-hot days, the sun was finally out again and the temperature was back to being excruciatingly hot, which meant that every teenager in Sweden was on their way to the closest body of water. It was the first time that you and William would go out with your group of friends as a couple and it was fair to say that you were a little bit nervous. You were ready with your bikini on, covered by a pair of denim shorts and a t-shirt, when Alex and William, along with four of your other friends, come by your house. And with the usual hollers and greetings while you walked down the pathway from your house to your street, the endless dilemma in your head on how to deal with this new situation was long forgotten. You made your way through the group of friends with various ‘hey’s and a hug or two until you ended up by William, who greeted you with the extra big smile that was reserved for you, and you only, before he pulled you to him, sliding his arm over your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your temple. And you couldn’t help but laugh when you hear Alex speak dramatically; “Oh, you didn’t know? They’re dating. I didn’t either,” Alex seems happy when you jump on his back on your way down the trail to the lake, but also like he was trying to determine if you did it because you wanted to or if you’re just trying to give him more attention because you’re dating his brother. He also tried to pretend that he thinks it’s annoying but you know that he doesn’t. And then he tries to throw you in the lake with your clothes still on, at least he makes you believe that he actually will – to which Willy comes to your rescue – and Alex rolls his eyes and lightheartedly makes a joke about Willy being your knight in shining armor. Alex rolls his eyes again when Will asks you to rub sunscreen onto his back, to which you mutter something about how Alex and his red back better get in line. He rolls his eyes again when Willy rubs sunscreen onto your back, before he makes comment for everyone else’s enjoyment: “At least, now I won’t have to do it.” Time flies by quickly when you’re having fun – running around in the sand with your best friends, jumping from rocks with Alex and occasionally being picked up by Will and thrown into the water. One time he picks you up and carries you out slowly, pretending that he’ll drop you a few times making you squeal or giggle, but then he’ll pull you even further up and kiss you. When he stops up, so far out that you can’t reach the bottom anymore, he lets you lock your legs around his waist while his arms slide around you, holding you while he presses his lips to yours. Behind you can hear your friend Caroline scolding Alex; “Shut up, they’re cute,” Half an hour later you’re sat on top of a big rock in the lake with Alex and Linus, while William is lying on his beach towel back by the water’s edge. You can hear a few more people coming  down to the lake, voices and laughter coming closer. You know them, but they’re more Will’s friends than yours and Alex’s. Also, you haven’t really seen any of them over the summer. “Oh, you better watch out, Y/N,” Linus says, his voice almost sounding nervous. “What?” you open up your eyes after having had your face turned up towards the sun. “Oh,” you say, nonchalantly. Everyone, except your boyfriend, knows that Christine, one of the girls that are now arriving at the lake, has a huge crush on him. And she was never subtle about it. “Oh?” Alex repeats, mimicking you. “I trust him, even if he is completely oblivious,” you tell them, watching as she sits down as close to him as humanly possible without actually sitting on him. The rock that you and the boys are sitting on are close enough to the beach for you to hear most of what is being said. William’s eyes meet yours when Christine touches him for the second time within the five minutes she’s been there. You smile and he smiles back at you – and you think maybe he finally understood what his friend was doing. Or trying to do. He moves away from Christine, in the guise of turning towards all his friends. He sends another smile your way before he starts talking. “I wanted to tell you something. All of you,” he smiles, motioning to the ones that had just arrived. “Okay?” one of them says, before they all turn their attention to William. “I have a girlfriend,” he says, enthusiastically. The questions comes flying after that, from everyone but Christine. And one of them don’t even believe him until he tells them that it’s you. You turn your attention away from what was going on around William, and back to soaking up the sun. But only for a few minutes, though, before you’re turned victim to the Nylander brother’s antics and you’re once again in the water and in the arms of your boyfriend. “Did you finally realize that I’m not the only one with a crush on you,” you ask, your voice low and playful, once you’re out of the shallows. “Uhm, I think I might,” he makes a face as he says it, and you laugh at him. “You’re pretty oblivious, aren’t you?” you tease, and he shrugs, pulling you in for a kiss. “It makes sense now, though,” he says, “also, not be cocky, but I don’t think what you feel for me qualifies as a crush,” he adds, smirking. “Mm, no, haven’t been able to qualify this as a crush since I was like thirteen,” August 2014 Every year the Nylanders would have an end of summer barbecue. You loved these parties because you got to hang out with your friends all night, friends you didn’t see all the time, and of course, Alex and William. But you also hated them because your mom’s friends were extremely annoying and nosy, especially when it came to you. And now, with your mom and Camilla being a little too excited about their kids dating, everyone would know about yours and William’s relationship. And none of them would leave you alone. Less than an hour into the party and you feel like you’re about to explode. It doesn’t really help with the attention, but William has begun to actively be next to you, a hand on your shoulder or on your waist – somewhere – trying his best to keep you sane through it all. Some were sweet, just smiling, maybe adding that you looked cute together or that it warmed their heart or something, but not all of your moms friends were very appropriate, making eyes at you and whispering little things that sent you into a constant state of cringe for 5 minutes straight. You weren’t the only ones that were being bugged about the matter of yours and William’s relationship. Your dad got the question several times, of what he thought about his little girl dating the big shot hockey player of the Nylander family, to which he first just rolled his eyes, but after a while, when the repeated question became annoying, he said; “You know what, I really don’t mind, Willy is really nice to her and that’s all that matters,”. And then at one point, with a smirk, added – “I’m just glad it wasn’t this little fucker,” – while motioning to Alex, who was standing next to him. Alex also got a fair amount of attention because of it but Alex loved attention. “So what do you think about Y/N dating your brother,” someone would ask him, and he would smile and tell them some overdramatic story. “But you know what, I’m happy for them. And it’s not like I didn’t see it coming. I was mad about for about five hours, but as soon as I realized that I’m not the one who has to follow her around the mall anymore, I was completely fine,” he would end, making the circle of middle aged women around him erupt in laughter. “Hey, just ignore them. Let’s just have a good time, okay?” William spoke, sliding one of his arms around your shoulders and pulling you closer to his front while simultaneously cupping your cheek with his hand. The comment made from your mom’s friend, Isabella, had you fuming – you see, she just knew from the day you were born that the boys wouldn’t be able to keep their eyes off you. He looks at you with wide eyes and lifted eyebrows until you smile – making you look away as you try to hide the fact that he has that kind of power over you but failing miserably. A smile spreads on his lips as a reaction to yours. Moving his hand to your jaw, he tilts your head back towards him and pulls you into a sweet kiss. And then one that isn’t that sweet, one that is short but still manages to fill your gut with heat before he pulls back. “What?” you hear your mom’s friend Karen say, the gossip queen of their friend group. She’s in conversation with your mom, Camilla, your dad and few of their friends. Camilla and your mom are obviously telling her about you and Willy. “Are you surprised?” Camilla asks her, to which Karen looks even more surprised. “What? No. Are you? I mean, is this new? Are you just now hearing about it?” This really makes your ears perk up. You and William look at each other with furrowed brows before you both turn your attention back to Karen and the rest of them. “What? We found out about it in June… What do you mean?” Your mom asks, and you can see your dad lean into the conversation he’d probably found extremely uninteresting up until now. “In June? They’ve been flirting for years! And I am 100% sure I saw them kissing on New Year’s Eve,” she tells them, motioning towards you and Willy, who were halfway across the garden but were quite obviously listening in on the conversation. “What?” both your mother and Camilla exclaims, turning towards you, and you and Willy walk over with red cheeks – Willy holding your hand and basically pulling you with him. “I just thought that everyone but me knew about it, so I didn’t mention it,” Karen said, but your parents were turned towards you. “You said you started dating in March,” you mom stated. “And that’s the truth,” Willy argued, but it wasn’t enough. Your cheeks turn even redder. “God… He sprung a kiss on me at midnight, caught me completely off guard, and then ran off like nothing happened and never said anything about it for just about three months, when we actually started dating,” you rambled, making everyone laugh. “Well, I…  Excuse me, but I texted you that night,” Willy argues next to you, making them laugh more. “Uh, yeah, at like 4 AM asking if I was mad at you for it,” you said, your head turning to him. The blush on your cheeks disappeared and you were laughing with the rest of the group. “That shit fucked me up,” you added, making them all laugh, including William – before he pulled you into him, kissing your temple and telling you he’s sorry with a smile and blushing cheeks. “Did it really fuck you up? When I kissed you on new year’s eve?” he asks when you’re alone again, sitting in the swinging bench in the backyard. Your legs are resting across his lap as you sit sideways in the seat, his hand moving up and down your bare calf. You smile at his question. “Uh, yeah, I couldn’t sleep. I had all kinds of thoughts running through my head trying to come up with every possible reason for you to kiss me that wasn’t that you actually just wanted to kiss me – I just couldn’t let myself believe that you wanted to kiss me,” you told him, eyeing him as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “And then I was finally falling asleep, I was so close, and then you texted me and my head was back to spinning again,” you added, laughing lightly when his head fell back with a curse falling from his lips. “I’m sorry, that was really stupid of me,” he apologized, red cheeks and an embarrassed smile. “You’re forgiven,” you told him, laying a hand on his arm. “Good. I just really wanted to kiss you, you know,” he mumbled, and you took hold of his shirt and pulled him closer, until his upper body was over yours and you could press your lips to his. The kiss lasted longer than it should have. And so did the next one – sending sparks of warmth and want for your boyfriend flying everywhere, making your skin feel like it was on fire wherever he touched you. “Yeah, yeah, that’s enough,” Alex says as he approaches you, spreading out in the third and last seat of the swinging bench. By now, Alex is used to seeing you kissing his brother, and actually gave up making gagging noises whenever he saw you about a month ago. Will pushed himself away from you and back to his previous position, and you immediately miss his hands on your skin. They come back pretty quickly, though, but on your calf instead of further up – on your thigh, under the material of your summer dress. Whenever his fingers crawl closer to your knee, there are waves traveling through your body and crashing between your legs, making the pool of want and lust in your panties grow. An hour or so later, dinner is served. Meaning that everyone is lining up next to the grill and filling their plates with various meats, breads, salads and condiments. You and Will are still queued up with empty plates, his body coming closer and pressing into yours as you’re standing in front of him. His free hand comes around your waist and you pray for just an hour alone with him when he presses a kiss or two to your shoulder. You can sense your mom looking at you from her spot by the table, and you can tell by the smile on her face and the soft look in her eyes that she thinks it’s sweet, but both you and Will know that there isn’t anything sweet about his hand flat across your hip and the lingering kisses on your shoulder. There’s nothing sweet about how it makes you feel. There’s nothing sweet about the hand on your thigh when Will’s done eating either, how it travels across your lap and under the material of your dress. How his thumb moves between your thighs and starts drawing circles on the soft and sensitive skin of your inner thighs. There is nothing sweet about your hand grabbing his and leading him inside the house under the guise of having to charge your phone. Nothing sweet about running downstairs hand in hand and being pushed against the wall, his body pressed into yours and his lips following closely after. There’s definitely nothing sweet about your hand sliding down his torso and moving in between your bodies, your palm flat over his hardening member – making his situation so much worse. “Ugh, babe, no,” William presses his forehead to yours, his eyes closed and his fingers wrapped around your wrist as he concentrates on not letting your touch get to him. “Mm, I’m sorry,” you tell him, and he rolls his eyes at you. “No, you’re not,” he mutters, and you can’t help but let your grin consume your face. “It’s just… It’s something about this dress. I can’t keep my hands off you,” he tells you after a few moments of silence. His words earns a gasp from you, making a look of petty revenge appear in his eye before his lips are on yours again. His body slams into yours, his knee pressing in between your legs, while he kisses you hard and deep. His hands roams up your body, from your thighs to your boobs, his thumbs knowing exactly where to find your nipples through both your dress and your lacy bralette. You moan against his mouth and before you know it, his hand is between your thighs, underwear pushed aside and two fingers fully inside you, pressing into your g-spot. A high-pitched moan rolls of your tongue, and just as quickly as his fingers were up there, they’re back out – and he’s leaving you with a ravishing and lingering kiss before he steps back and retreats back up the stairs with his two fingers in his mouth while simultaneously sending you a look that made you want to kill him and tear all of his clothes off, all at the same time. “Oh honey, what did you do? Your dress is all wrinkly!” Your mother exclaims when she sees you only ten minutes later. You’d spent a few minutes in the bathroom desperately trying to calm yourself down, while also making sure your hair didn’t look like Willy just had his hands all up in it while making out with you. Your dress was worse for wear, though, as it was wrinkly after Will’s hands had traveled up your body both over and under your summer dress. “Uhm, I don’t know? I sat down?” you dig out your acting talent that hadn’t been used since your last attendance at the Children’s theatre in 2007. Your mother huffs and tries to straighten your dress with her hands but gives up quite quickly. The ordeal has a smirk on Willy’s lips when you go sit down next to him, stealing his bowl of ice cream and berries, while Alex rolls his eyes and pretends to gag. It is getting later and as the guest with younger kids had left the party, the rest of you were gathered around the biggest of the tables in the garden, glasses of wine and bottles of beer in just about every hand there except yours and Alex’. It was still quite crowded in the Nylander’s backyard, and all kinds of chairs, benches and stools where moved to fit as many as possible around said table, and William had gladly pulled you into his lap, where you now sat sideways – your head rested on his shoulder as one of his arms curled around your back and the other laid over your lap, his hand resting on the back of your thigh. You rarely take part of the conversation going on around the table, mostly just listening to the stories that are being told and relaxing back into Willy’s chest – a feeling of contentment and thankfulness washing over you when his lips press against your temple, causing you to tilt your head back and capture his lips in a sweet kiss. An hour or so later, Camilla hands out blankets for everyone in need of one. You already have Alex’ hoodie over your summer dress, but Will still takes one and places it over your bare legs. Soon his hand moves over your thighs. At first, the tips of his fingers barely graces your skin, but when he hears the change in your breath, they slide in between your thighs with just a little bit more force, inching their way closer to where you’d been wanting them all day. But he stops before they reach your damp underwear, and you don’t know if you’re happy about it or not. It’s enough, though, to send you even further into the desperation for your boyfriend that you’ve been feeling all day. Your mom saying your name snaps you back to reality. You sigh when Will pulls his hand away from you, helping you stand up after having spent the last two hours curled up in his lap. You’re going home, and leaving the warmth of Will’s lap and embrace is the last thing you want to do right now – for more than one reason. You hug Alex goodbye, promising to give him his hoodie back the next day. William follows you to the front yard, shoving you in front of him so that he can walk behind you with his arms slung around your neck, your cheek in perfect position for him to press kisses to it while whispering words that make you want his hands on you even more. Just before you reach the front of the house, you turn around in his arms and press your lips to his in a deep kiss, letting your hands creep up into his hair as your tongues meet. You pull back when you hear your name being called, your parents getting impatient – but lean in for one more kiss before you take his hand in yours and walk the rest of the way. You give Camilla and Michael each a hug goodbye, then you go back for peck on the lips and a final hug with William, whispering ‘I love you’  before you follow your parents home. - “I’m outside,” you read the notification from William, your heart pounding immediately, waves of heat crashing at your core just from knowing he’s outside. You make sure you can’t hear anything from upstairs, that they’re all gone to bed, before you quickly move to the door, opening it to find your boyfriend standing there, impatiently bouncing on his feet. “Fuck, I couldn’t lie still,” he says once you open the door, just before you reach out and grab his hand. “Just come inside,” you breathe, pulling him in and closing the door behind him, just before your lips are on his and your back is pushed against the same door he just came in through, his body pressed against yours. You can already tell that it’s going to be hard to stop tonight. You’re not even sure you’re going to want it to stop. Your hands are far up the back of his hoodie, feeling his muscles move underneath the tips of your fingers as his hands roam your body, stopping at your behind and pushing you against him. You moan into the open mouthed kiss as you can feel him already starting to harden against your lower stomach. You move your hands to his front, sliding your arms around his neck and kissing him harder. “My room,” you barely get out between kisses, and his hands are at the backs of your thighs immediately, hoisting you up and you’re being carried to your room. The door is kicked shut and your back hits the mattress of your bed, his body rolling over yours and your hips meeting in a desperate hope for release. Your fingers find the hem of his hoodie and you don’t waste time ridding him of it. With his lips on yours for as long as possible, he moves your t-shirt up your sides slowly, letting the tips of his fingers slide over the soft skin of your waist, before he finally lets go of your lips and pulls the garment over your head. He buries his head in your chest immediately, kisses left all over your bare breasts, until he closes his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. The action causes a moan to escape your lips and an arch of your body, to which he hums, sending even more lust to build between your legs. Your hand finds its way between your bodies, landing flat over the bulge in his shorts, applying pressure to it and causing another groan from his lips. You moan his name, and he finally comes back up to you, his lips pressing to yours, open mouthed with your tongues immediately connecting. One of his hands finds the drawstring of your pajama shorts, and he loosens the knot, making room for him to stick his hand into your shorts and underwear, and feel your wetness on his fingers. “Fuck, baby,” he breathes as he pulls back, not just from your lips but from you entirely, his hands working on getting your clothes off completely before his feet even touch the floor. He sinks to his knees by the bed’s side, and you’re pulled to its edge and your thighs are being placed on his shoulders, his face buried between your legs. He’d only gone down on you for the first time a few weeks ago and it had proved to be your new favorite thing, loving the way his tongue felt as it slid across your folds and dipped inside you. His hands caress your thighs while he dives in, closing in on your clit and giving it the attention he thinks it deserves – which is a lot. The little moans and curses that leave your mouth only urge him on, and his finger comes to help, sliding inside you and pressing against your G-spot, while the tip of his tongue works against your bundle of nerves. Your fingers are deep in blonde locks, your grip hard as he makes moans roll of your tongue along with every breath. You’re nearly thrown over the edge when his tongue slides in next to his finger, making his name roll of your tongue like a whimper and your fingers fist in his hair. The action has a groan leave his throat and in the matter of seconds he’s in the bed, over you again, his lips on yours in a heavy, open mouthed kiss – his tongue replaced by another finger and his thumb moving in quick circles on your clit. Your head falls deeply into the comforter under you as your lips leaves his again and your body arches into his, and with another thrust of his fingers and his lips to your jaw, you finally hit your climax. His face is pressed to your neck as he waits for you to calm down, taking in and committing every moan, whimper and pant to his memory. His hand moves soothingly up and down your thigh and his lips press little kisses on your neck every now and then – until your hand comes up to his neck and you bring your lips back to his in a long kiss. “You’re amazing,” you whisper against his lips before you press your lips back on his. With a hand to his chest you push him to his side, your fingers traveling down and into his shorts as he let’s your tongue meet his. Your hand closes around his hard member and you start stroking him and giving him little tugs. His free hand roams your side, starting the trail with a grip of your butt and moving on to your hip – fingertips skating over your waist, until his hand cover your boob, massaging it. You let go of him and give him a little shove to make him roll to his back. You start working on his shorts immediately, pulling them down his thighs along with his boxers and letting them fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes, while he throws off his hoodie and t-shirt. You stay by his side, reaching out and letting your hand stroke over his balls and erection while you leave kisses on his torso. His fingers takes little strides up your back until they’re in your hair, finding the hair tie that barely held it up into what had once been a bun and pulling it out. With his hand fisted in your hair he guides your lips to his and you kiss while your hand moves up and down his shaft. As his lips connect to your neck and his hand slides back down to your ass, you can’t help but throw your thigh over his lap and straddle him, letting go of his dick and enjoying the feeling of it pressed against your wet folds instead. You’d never sat like that while both naked before and the new sensation feels amazing – and brings certain desires to the absolute surface as you rock against him, feeling him slide between your lips. 

His mouth has fallen open and so has yours, and with his hands on your hips, he sits up and presses his forehead to yours. Your eyes fall closed after staring into each other’s eyes for a while, and both your breaths come out as pants. “I love you so much, baby,” he talks against your lips, before launching into a heavy make out, your lips slotting together in desperation. His hands on your hips help you keep your hips moving in a steady rhythm, and your arms slides around his neck. “I want you, I want this,” you talk into the kiss. “I love you, all I want is you,” you add, your words not well thought out but exactly what you mean. “Me, too, baby. So bad. Want you so bad,” he tells you, his forehead pressed against yours as he talks. He plants his feet to the floor, getting up with you in his arms, your legs locked around his waist and your arms around his neck. He pulls back your sheets and climbs back into bed with you still in his arms. His lips are moving across your neck and collarbones as soon as you’re both back in bed. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, your eyes meet in the process and he comes straight back to your lips once he lets go. “I have condoms in my nightstand,” you tell him, your lips moving against his as you talk. If the sound erupting from his throat next is a curse or a groan, you’re not sure, but he reaches out and finds one in your drawer. You take the condom from his hand, and he lifts himself up on his arms. “Why do you have condoms?” he whispers teasingly, as you rip the packaging open. “Mm, because of you,” you tell him, letting a smile spread on your lips. You hadn’t really talked much about sex, you just let things happen when you felt ready for it – and William never said anything, just let you move at your own pace. “Got them from the school nurse’s office on the last day of school,” you tell him, reaching out and stroking his hard member – watching as his chuckle turns into a moan. “You know, when I made you sneak over here that night, I’d been thinking about you all day,” you smirk, tapping his thigh to make him stand up straighter on his knees to make it easier for you to slide the condom onto him. Two of his fingers dip into you, scissoring them inside you to hopefully make the experience less painful for you. “I’m ready, I can’t wait any longer,” you breathe, stretching your neck up and connecting your lips to his. His body crashes down on yours, and he kisses you deeply as he lets his fingers slide out of you and wrap around himself instead. He positions himself perfectly between your legs, placing the tip of his member at your entrance. You moan at the feeling and he pushes all the way in, making you take a deep breath. His forehead presses against yours and you both breathe heavily. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft but a little strained. “Yeah, babe, I’m good, just go slow,” you answer, letting your hand move from his shoulder to the back of his neck. His lips press against yours as he starts to move, finding a slow but steady pace. As soon as he finds the perfect rhythm, one of his hands find their way back to your body. He starts at your side, moving from your hip and slowly up to the side of your boob. He massages it, slow but firm, making you release a moan when he pinches your nipple between his fingers. Your lips slot together as your hands roam his back, your nails digging into his skin when he speeds up a little bit. “You feel so good,” he groans into your neck once his lips parts from yours, before he moves on to leaving kisses all the way down from your jaw to your collarbones. You only moan in response, letting one of your hands trail from his back and up into his hair, fisting your fingers in it. “It’s good for you as well, right?” he asks, lips moving against the skin of your neck – and you can hear the slight panic in his voice. Before you even process what he said, his head flies up. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?” he asks, stilling inside you. “No, no, it doesn’t. You know I would tell you,” you tell him, finally snapping back to reality. “And it feels amazing, I promise,” you speak, cupping his cheek with your hand. “I’m- I’m not used to you being so quiet,” he mumbles, his cheeks turning red as he says it. You can’t help but smile at that. “Will, you’re doing amazing – don’t worry. And I was kinda trying to not be so loud,” you tell him, feeling your own cheeks heat up as well. He’s got a smile on his lips when he starts moving again, his hand coming down to lift your leg up, hooking it over his hip. “I like it when you’re loud,” he says before he connects his lips to yours again, and just those words alone has you moaning against his lips. “There you go,” he sounds smug, his lips moving against yours as he speaks. He speeds up, and that, along with the new angle, has moans rolling off your tongue left and right. You tug at his hair, like you know he enjoys – he’d groaned loudly the first time you did it – and his moan vibrates against your lips. His lips are soon pulled from yours as he tucks his face into your neck, eyes clenched shut as he concentrates on making you reach your orgasm before he does. He lifts his body from yours slightly, his hand moving between your bodies, where his thumb expertly finds your clit. A loud moan escapes your lips when his thumb reaches your sensitive nub and his head comes up from hiding in your neck and hair, his forehead leaning against yours. He watches your reactions closely as he touches you and fills you up again and again.   “Baby,” he mumbles, his voice strained. You moan as a response and his lips press to yours in a short but deep kiss before he speaks again. “Please tell me you’re close,” he begs, kissing you again. “Mm, I am,” you breathe, and he kisses you once more before he presses his forehead against your chest and ups the movement of his thumb, letting it rub in fast circles on your clit. He can both hear and feel that you’re coming closer to the edge, your moans more frequent, your breath harsher and your insides starting to clench around his member. When your legs tighten around his hips and your fist in his hair tenses, he knows you’re about to come. He leaves your clit to give himself some extra support as he speeds up his thrusts, pressing his lips to yours as you fall apart beneath him. The soft moans resulting of your orgasm and the clenching of your insides around him has him coming just seconds after you – before collapsing on top of you. 

Your hands stay in his hair, but instead of having a fistful of hair clenched between your fingers, you start drawing your fingertips through it instead. His breathing slows down and he pushes himself further up your body, his face nuzzling into the nook of your neck. A happy and content sigh falls from your lips when you feel his mouth press to the skin of your shoulder. His weight lifts from your body as he plants his elbows in the mattress beneath you, lifting himself up slightly while leaving kisses up your neck and on your cheek. You giggle and let your hands fall to the back of his neck. “I love you,” he whispers, finally letting his lips touch yours again in a sweet and loving kiss. “I love you, too, Will,” you smile into the next kiss. “I’ll be right back, okay?” he speaks, his voice soft as he places another kiss to your cheek before he slowly pulls out his softened member, his eyebrows shooting up when you gasp. “Are you sore?” he asks, making another smile stretch your lips. “No, don’t worry. I’m just sensitive,” you calm him, and he smiles, leaning down and kissing you once more before he leaves your bed for the bathroom. He comes back just a few minutes later, without the condom but just as naked. You both blush a little when he catches you looking and you both laugh lightheartedly when he steps over the clothes on the floor and crawls back into bed, letting you place your head on his chest and tangle your legs with his. “I can’t even tell you how extremely happy you make me,” you mumble into his chest, your arm stretching across his torso and hugging him to you. “I know the feeling, babe,” he chuckles, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Did you get any comments on your picture?” he asks after a while of resting in complete and comfortable silence, only your breaths and his heartbeat under your cheek to be heard. You hum against his chest and motion for William to fetch your phone from the nightstand. You roll to your back, using Will’s arm as a pillow, so you both can see your phone screen. Your mother had taken a picture of the two of you in the chair earlier that night, when you were curled up in his lap. She’d captured the exact moment when his lips pressed to your temple and your eyes fluttered closed – everything about it was perfect – his arms around you, your hand tracing little circles on his arm that laid across your lap. You’d posted it to your Instagram when your mom sent it to you – the first you’d posted of the two of you as a couple. “Okay, that’s a lot,” you say, smiling as you look to your side, meeting Will’s eye. Your phone screen is filled with Instagram notifications and you open up your phone and the app in question. You look at the comments on the post together, smiling at the sweet comments of how you were cute together, “I knew it!” and “It had to happen!”, cringing at your mothers comments of young love and heart-warming, and lastly, laughing at Alex’s comment reading ; “I love you but YIKES”. You plug in your phone charger and leave it at your nightstand, turning in William’s arms and cuddling up with him again – your nose rubbing against his neck as you slide your arms around his neck and hugging him to you, your bare body pressed to his. His arms comes around your waist and embraces you, his hands moving in soothing circles on your back. “How early do you think I need to get up to both sneak out of here and back into my house without any of them noticing?” he asks, leaving a kiss on your shoulder. You pull back, placing your hands on each of his cheeks, cupping them. “The biggest problem is your house, really. Here, you’re fine as long as you don’t leave at the exact same time as my mom or my dad. So, I guess the question is when your parents get up,” you add to the conversation. “Ugh, I should probably be home before 7 to be safe,” he sighs. “I really want to stay here as long as possible,” he adds, kissing you on the lips. “Mm, and it’s not like I’m letting you leave,” you tell him, pressing your lips to his in a deeper kiss. With his arms still around you, he rolls you both to the side. And you lay there, just kissing, for what feels like forever. “Are you happy we did that?” he asks unprovoked after having laid in silence for a little while. “Yeah, of course I am,” you smile, reaching up and pushing his hair out of his face. “Good,” he smiles, looking down between your bodies as the familiar pink blush appears on his cheeks again. “Stop worrying about these things,” you tell him, kissing him. “I am very much in love with you and for as long as I’ve thought about sex, I’ve always thought about it with you. I’ve always imagined and hoped that it would be with you,” you tell him, sincerely, ignoring the voice in your head that wants you to think that it’s embarrassing to tell him. “Really?” he smiles, the shy smile that was previously on his lips almost becomes cocky. But just almost. “Yeah, you’re my first crush, you know,” you say, letting your lips fall into a grin that matches his. “I remember being thirteen and spending the summer in your pool and blushing every time I saw you – because you were shirtless,” you chuckle, biting your lip when Will laughs sweetly. “And then the next summer, Alex didn’t understand why I was uncomfortable in my bikini and had to get a new one every two months because my body was changing – but you did, and, I don’t know, I fell so stupidly in love with you that I had a hard time functioning every time you were near me. My heart was racing every time you talked to me,” you let your cheeks warm up this time, turn a little red, just at the thought of how you felt every time he was around back then. To think you were naked and tangled up with him in bed now, was a little surreal. “I started talking to you a lot, didn’t I?” he chuckles. You hum, and he adjusts you in his arms, letting you lay your head on his arm and press your back into his front as he spoons you. “I mean, I always thought you were cute, but that summer… That year, I guess, I just realized that you weren’t just cute and my little brother’s best friend anymore. You were funny and beautiful. And I was fifteen, so, I had a really hard time keeping my eyes off you that summer,” he chuckled. “Hm, I noticed,” you smiled, turning your head slightly, letting him place a kiss on your cheek. “Yeah, and I wasn’t completely oblivious either. I knew you had a crush on me, but then you stopped blushing every time I looked at you or spoke to you, so I figured you’d stopped crushing on me – which is why I was worried that you’d be mad at me for kissing you on new year’s eve. I wasn’t sure if you liked me at all,” he explained, making you laugh. “Oh, I liked you,” you smiled, turning in his arms again and pressing your lips to his in a deep kiss. His hand came up to your face, cupping your cheek and holding you to him while simultaneously supporting your head. Your fingers trace a line from his chest to his shoulders while you kiss him, then from his shoulders to the back of his neck, where they’re engulfed by thick, blonde hair. You tighten your grip in his hair, just a little bit, and he hums against your lips. You pull back slightly, just to get a little air, but his lips follow yours like they’re magnetic. You smile against his lips before deepening the kiss, loving the effect you had on him and how his hands moved further down your body. You let your lips fall open, and his tongue was immediately pressed against yours, his hand coming down to your ass, gripping it, while you fisted your hand in his hair – this time making William moan and push your body against his. Pulling your lips from his, you swapped out the hand in his hair, letting your free hand move down his chest and abs while you placed kisses on his neck. Pushing your hand a little bit further down and under the covers, you examined the damage you’d done, enjoying the sound of his breath turning heavy when you let your hand wrap around his erection. He places his hand on your cheek, pulling you back to meet his lips again, before pushing a hand between your bodies – both of you reacting audibly when he moved a finger to slide through your wet folds. Soon, your hand stills on his shaft, the sudden pleasure taking over your body, when Will pushes two fingers inside you, scissoring them, essentially telling you that you had the same thought. You move your hand from his shaft to his chest, supporting yourself as you throw your leg over his hips, not letting yourself get distracted by his hard member so close to where you needed him most, but reaching out to get another condom from your nightstand. Sitting back, your arousals finally meet, and you grind down, making it hard for the both of you to keep your moans and groans to yourselves. Will’s hands moves to your hips, pushing you back. Desperate to be back inside you, he makes room for you to slide the condom onto him. Once it’s on, he sits up, pushing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss while his arm slides around your waist – helping you lift your hips from his thighs and using his other hand to align his member with your entrance, letting you slide down at your own pace. A deep breath falls from your lips when he’s fully inside you, your forehead leaning against his. You press your lips to his in a hard kiss before you place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him down to lay on his back. His hands rest on each of your hips and you place yours on his chest, to support you when you finally start moving your hips. With his hands firmly gripping your hips, he helps you keep a steady rhythm. With soft touches, passionate kisses and naked bodies so smoothly sliding against each other, you’re both quickly brought to your climaxes – foreheads pressed together as you both express your love for each other between labored breaths and throaty moans. You spend the next minutes catching your breaths, your cheek pressed to William’s chest as his fingers slides through your hair. “Don’t fall asleep on me, now,” William whispers, making your lips tug up into a smile. “Mm, I won’t,” you breathe, finally finding the strength to push yourself up. He sits up as well, kissing you before he slides an arm around you waist, lifting you from his lap to let himself slide out from inside you. You sigh at the loss of contact, leaning in for another kiss and then getting out of bed. William follows you to your bathroom, and you both go though your nightly routines, which for Willy is mostly watching you in the mirror as he stands behind you, arms around your waist and chin rested on your shoulder. You crawl into bed without bothering to put on any of the clothes left on the floor earlier in the night. It’s ridiculously late and you almost want to cry at the alarm William sets for the morning, just a few hours away. “I love you, baby,” he whispers into your hair, your face buried in his chest and your legs tangled with his as you’re already drifting to sleep. “Mm, I love you, too,” you breathe, then adding a soft “baby,” – smiling lazily as you hear him chuckle. Deep sleep finds you within minutes, exhaustion from the previous day and night along with Will’s body underneath you and arms around you, soothing you to sleep. You wake to your mother’s voice, but she isn’t talking to you. “Yeah, I found him. And his boxers… on the floor,” she sighs, and you suddenly realize that your mom is talking to Camilla on the phone in the room where you’re clearly naked underneath the covers with Will. And it’s probably way past 7 o’clock.  “Camilla, you’re not responsible for keeping your 18 year old son out of my daughter’s bed. Don’t apologize,” she says as a matter of fact. You didn’t hear what Camilla said through the phone, but you had your guesses. “Oh, you’re awake,” she says to you, having seen you move your hand to cover your face. “I’ll make sure he comes home… Once I’ve had my talk with them,” she tells Camilla, making sure you both hear her clearly. She hangs up the phone and decides to sit down on the desk chair in your room, not far from your bed. “Mom, can we please get dressed before we have this talk?” you beg, feeling the blush rush to your cheeks. “No, I’m not giving you a chance to escape,” she huffs, and you and William adjust in the bed, sitting up more but making sure the covers hide your naked bodies. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Y/L/N,” William starts, but is soon interrupted. “Oh, don’t Mrs. Y/L/N me now, mister,” your mom nearly laughs. She takes a deep breath. “You don’t need to apologize for,” she pauses, bracing herself, “having sex. It’s fine. You’re both old enough, and I obviously can’t stop it from happening. It’s just,” she pauses again, taking another deep breath. “It’s not a problem if you want to stay over, William, I would just like to know first – and I’m sure your mom would like to know as well. I mean, she called me quite worried,” she says, and you’re thoroughly surprised at her handling of the situation. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I was supposed to get up early and go back home but I must’ve slept though the alarm,” William speaks again. Your mother nods, looking around the room as she thinks about her next words. She turns her attention to you. “I was literally going to have the talk with you tonight,” she sighs, and you can’t help but smile. “Obviously I should’ve done it a lot sooner, but you know, not my favorite kind of past time, and then I saw you yesterday and I realized that I had to do it sooner rather than later,” she mumbles the last part. “Did you at least use protection?” she asks, once she’s out of the chair, hand already on the door handle. “Yes, mom,” you answer, hiding your blushing face and smile behind your hands again. She turns around. “Will, go home and apologize to your mom. And if you want to stay over, just ask, and it’s fine. And you, I’m getting you a doctors appointment first thing in the morning. You’re getting birth control.” She leaves the room and you both sink into the bed, bodies turning to the other. “Well, that’s embarrassing,” William mumbles, making you laugh. You scoot closer to him, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Yeah,” you breathe, looking up at him with a smile, and he leans in for a kiss. Or two. “But this is a good thing, right? We don’t have to sneak around anymore, and you can stay over,” you smile, and a smile spreads on his lips as well “I know,” he kisses you again, deeper this time. It is hard to pull away with his naked body over yours, wanting to have his body next to yours all the time – his skin pressed against you. He’s already semi-hard and pressed against your heat, when he pulls away. “I should probably leave,” he sighs, a smile adorning his lips anyway. “I know,” you breathe, loosening your hold on him to let him climb off you and out of bed. You sit up, pulling the sheets around your bare body, as you admire his while he pulls on his clothes from last night. He comes back to you once he’s fully dressed, pushing you back down and climbing on top of you. Your giggles stop quickly once he presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply and passionately. “I love you, so much,” he smiles, placing a kiss on your cheek as you smile back. “Mm, I love you, too – and I’ll see you later, yeah?” you kiss him again. “Yeah, if my mom doesn’t kill me,” he jokes, climbing off of you again after having left one last, lingering kiss on your lips. “Hm, she wouldn’t do that to me… she likes me too much,” you joke back, making him laugh as he exits your room, eager to get home just so that he could get back to you again.

Folds in Paper (Chapter 4: Before All the Paperwork Got Signed)[Folds in Time Universe]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Janus/Patton, Remus & Roman, eventual Logan/Virgil (maybe more)

Characters:

Main: Janus, Patton, Remus

Appear: Remy, Emile, Virgil, Logan, Roman

Summary: Janus, a disillusioned senior agent working for the Time Preservation Initiative, struggles to find meaning in a world where time travel could change everything about your life’s history in less than a moment. When time distortions start popping up, threatening the timeline and the fabric of reality as he knows it, it becomes a race against the clock to fix the damage before everything unravels. And the problem with time travel… you never how long you have before the clock strikes 12 and your time is up.

With a partner who has more mysteries in his past than Janus had anticipated and an enigmatic free agent time traveler mucking about time always with a clever pun or a time appropriate pet name on his lips, Janus will need to figure out what went wrong with time, and more importantly, how to fix it.

Chapter Summary:  

I can draw a straight line Through my mind Right back to the good times Back when all the stars were aligned Before all the paperwork got signed

Notes: Time travel AU, mystery, enemies to lovers, alcohol

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted).

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Janus was frozen in surprise for a few long moments after Pat disappeared. Which had been, admittedly, his mistake, because, while their window had technically been until 11:17pm and it was only 11:10, the loud crack that whatever Pat had been using for time travel made, garnered the attention of someone else.

“Uh oh,” Remus said, likely hearing footsteps. “Hide.”

That snapped Janus into action, but instead of hiding immediately like a sensible human being, he chose to go for the only link to the man who’d just stolen time travel tech and waltzed away: the mask.

Which… was why he ended up getting arrested.

Remy tsked the moment they were all alone in the police car having come to ‘transfer Lee to another facility.’ Remus was already waiting in the front seat, and flashed Janus a smug smile. If Janus wasn’t still handcuffed, he’d slap him.

“Well,” Remy said. “At least you didn’t shoot anybody like I asked. I was joking by the way. I didn’t really want to pick you up from a 1920s police station period.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Mmm, nah, ‘cause Remus managed to not get arrested this time, so you defiantly screwed something up.”

“Oh, he defiantly wanted to screw something all right,” Remus said joyfully.

“Remus,” Janus hissed.

“What?” he asked. “I’m not the horny one for once. Well, no, that’s a lie, but it didn’t affect the job this time.”

Janus groaned and leaned his head back against the seat.

Remy pulled into a seemingly random garage around 20 minutes later. “Alright,” he said. “Here we are.” He got out of the car and then helped Janus out before uncuffing him. “Here’s your ‘watch,’” Remy handed him the timepiece that had been confiscated when he’d been arrested.

Janus put it on and activated it. “Shit,” he said.

“What?” Remus asked.

“An appointment with cultural outreach has already been downloaded to my calendar for once we get out of decon.”

“Oof. Going to baby jail,” Remy laughed. Remus was cackling.

“This,” Janus said, “was not a cultural faux pas. I did nothing that indicated that I was not from this time. I am not some rookie.”

“Don’t forget cell phones don’t exist in the 1920s,” Remus sang.

“The real question is whether or not my foot exists in your…” Remus disappeared before he could finish, a smirk on his face. Janus growled. “By Remy,” he gritted out. He selected the decontamination chamber from his queue, ignoring the appointment that came after it for now.

He knew exactly where Remus would be standing when he landed, which was why he stepped forward on reentry to ram into him.

He yelped in surprise. “Sorry,” Janus said pleasantly. “I must have also forgotten landing procedures.

Remus laughed good naturally. “Aw, come on Jay,” he said, bumping Janus back, albeit much gentler than Janus had been. “It’s not a big deal. You just go talk with some crusty old college professor who is far too interested in spoons or something than can be healthy and then everything’s fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he growled. “They’re treating me like I’m an idiot who accidently invented disco in the 1920s when I was conned by some free agent time traveler.”

“‘Conned,’ Remus said. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“I know where and when you live Remus,” Janus said.

Remus gave him a dopey smile as the decontamination cycle finished and the door unlocked. Janus’s wrist buzzed telling him that the coordinates to the cultural outreach office were now unlocked. Instead of pulling them up, Janus walked to the door.

“Um,” Remus said, following him. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to your appointment?” Janus just kept walking towards their office. “Uh… Jan?”

“It’s absolutely ridiculous that I have to go to Cultural Outreach,” Janus said. “In fact, no one can make me. If they want me to go have a discussion about the definition of ‘bushwa,’ they’re going to have to have me dragged there.”

“Mmm, I feel like The Boss won’t be too happy about that, and I have a feeling she’d be 100% down to dragging you there herself.”

“Well, then, let her,” Janus said, stalking through the door to his office. “I’m not going to…”

“Ah, Agent Picani,” the woman standing next to his desk, clearly waiting for him, said when he came through the door. “Dr. Picani was informed that there were complications with your last mission and wishes to have a conversation with you. He asks that you meet him in his office at the AMO.”

“Oh, um,” Janus said, stumbling a bit before plastering on a regretful half smile. “Unfortunately, I actually have an appointment right now at Cultural Outreach. It’s mandatory and very important, and I have to go now. So, I’ll have to take a raincheck on that.”

“But-” she started, frowning.

“Remus, work on the report!” Janus said quickly as he waved his hand to bring up his timepiece display and jammed his finger at the glowing appointment card in his queue. A few moments later, Janus was at Cultural Outreach.

Cultural Outreach was not part of the TPI, though it often worked very closely with them. It was a collaboration between the government and multiple universities to help government workers, politicians, and other citizens understand and bridge cultural gaps. It had existed before time travel was invented but had expanded to also teach people who needed to time travel how to behave in unfamiliar times and cultures.

After it had to be expanded to provide for the TPI, it had been moved to Silver Mountains University. The building had once just been a museum, but it had been thoroughly renovated and there had been add-ons for office space and some classrooms. It was still a museum, however, its purpose had expanded greatly and there were many areas that were off limits to the general public.

One of these areas was the fourth floor, where Janus’s timepiece had dumped him. This was the floor that was almost exclusively for TPI agents and the staff of Cultural Outreach who worked with them.

He immediately turned away from the reception area, hoping that he could escape and go sit on the university’s quad or something of the like for the next hour or so in hopes the woman his brother sent to fetch him would give up and go back to the AMO. Yet, the receptionist apparently saw him.

“Janus Picani?” he asked.

Janus grimaced and turned back towards him. “Yes,” he said.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You’re 5 minutes late for your appointment and seem disoriented.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Is your timepiece malfunctioning?”

“No.”

“Uh… okay. Well, if you sign in here, I can take you to your appointment.”

“…Fine.”

 He begrudgingly stepped forward and touched the screen the receptionist gestured to for him sign with his fingerprint, and then let the man lead him down the hall.

The door they stopped at was propped open slightly, but he still paused and knocked. “Professor Eran? Your 2:30 is here.”

Janus had just a moment upon hearing the name to think that maybe there was actually some sort of intelligent design of the universe and whatever being of ultimate power had crafted it was a dick.

The door opened and Virgil Eran’s eyes immediately narrowed on him. “Janus.”

“Virgil.”

“I see you’re still late for everything.”

“I see you’re still a bastard.” Janus saw the receptionist slowly back away in the direction they’d come.

“Why don’t you come in?” Virgil said faux pleasantly.

Janus did, because he really didn’t have much of a choice at this point unless he wanted to jump out of a window… or push someone out of a window.

Virgil turned back into his office and took a seat behind his desk. Janus unhappily followed him in and sat across from him.

He took his time pulling up whatever the TPI sent him and reading it over. “So, I see you failed your recovery mission and were arrested in 1923.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Janus said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Virgil gave him that same suspicious look he used to give Janus whenever Janus claimed to have not eaten his hot pockets out of the freezer in the middle of the night. He’d only been lying 80% of the time. Virgil had a tendency to forget what he’d eaten in a half-conscious state at 3 o’clock in the morning.

“I shouldn’t,” Janus snapped defensively. “Nothing went wrong with anyone from the time period. An illegal time traveler screwed up the mission details.”

“Well, it is still protocol to make sure nothing slipped when agents go off script. You weren’t prepared to be in a jail cell, and it is possible that you screwed something up.”

“I didn’t screw anything up,” Janus growled.

“Alright,” Virgil said, pulling up a document on his desk. “The mission started on July 27th, 1923 at 9:58pm, correct?”

“Oh, god, we’re not really going to fill out a time sheet? I don’t have time for that today.”

“It is protocol and best that the information is documented when it is still fresh in your mind. Besides, your schedule has been cleared for the rest of the workday.” The bastard was enjoying this. He knew how much Janus hated this stuff.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Janus said, “it was the damned illicit time traveler.”

“And I will be the judge of that,” Virgil said. Janus should have just bit the bullet and had coffee with his brother. “If you truly did nothing wrong, your supervisor will see that when I send this to her.”

Yet, despite the fact that Virgil clearly relished in his suffering, he was charitable enough to do most of the actual filling out of the forms. He’d read out the questions and write down what Janus said instead of making him do it himself. Janus really only had to do a quick quality check and sign it at the end.

He still was an asshole about the details, but really he’d been like that about stupid thing like the settings for the dish washer and how the pantry was organized during their college days before they’d had their falling out, so Janus wasn’t particularly surprised. When they were finally done, Virgil sent it off to get filed by the TPI.

Then, they were left staring at each other with nothing between them but almost a decade of radio silence and a whole lot of awkwardness.

“I should go,” Janus finally said, standing up.

Virgil tilted his head slightly to the side and gave him a half smile. “Don’t lock the door behind you,” he said. “Not that I’d expect you too.”

Janus took it for the clear attempt at a joke it was intended to be and puffed out a breath of amusement with a head shake. “No risk of that,” he said. Then, he turned and walked out of the office.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

[CS] 4. Duty

4. Duty

Cutting Strings

Characters: Penny, Winter, Xanthic Word Count: 8k

If robots are just tools…

Read on Ao3

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Primary Function: Protector  

Penny learned many things during her few short hours outside her father’s facility. Those with familiar background and status gravitate towards each other. Penny suppose the human variable meant different was of understanding the world. Same behaviors and actions can be used to express different emotions, particularly when people whisper under their breath and avoid looking at others.  

Though Penny still had a difficulty figuring out how May and Winter communicated with just looks. Even sign language used an actual method of communication.  

So far the Military Event was the best day of her excistance. Her true first day out in the world! She got to learn more about her future teammate and possibly made two new friends, Winter Schnee and May Marigold. But… It was odd, that the best day of her excistense could affect someone that was not present.  

Penny was starting to understand how powerful the gaze was.  

She sat at the facility’s kitchen table, head casted down and hands intertwined in her lap. She ignored the slamming keys and hard-light screens. Across from her, Ashley Xanthic furiously typed lines of code. The hacker would run simulation after simulation, until the checks ran red and continued working. Bit by bit, she hacked into Atlas’ network, byte by byte Penny Polendina was becoming an official citizen of Atlas.  

Ironwood wanted her to supervise the hacker. Something that required closer observation but Penny didn’t want upset Ms. Xanthic anymore. She sighed quietly, squeezing her hands. She wasn’t doing a very good job…  

“What’s the point in running the Kingdom if you can’t cut corners?” Xanthic growled to herself. Penny spared a glance up. Her future teammate took a break to sip her coffee but her head just kept tilting back and back before she just groaned into an empty cup.  

“It’s to prevent-”  

“Abuse of power, total dictator ship,” Xanthic droned. She put her cup down, looking at Penny through the gasps of her hard-light screens. "But here I am, in a secure military facility, hacking into Atlas Security with resources the General provided."  

If the public found out General Ironwood manipulated the system, he would be stripped of both his council seats. If the public found out a hacker had done it, the consequences wouldn’t be as dire. Still the General must have other reasons for using her as a scapegoat.  

Penny looked at her hands again, “He cannot make such quick changes legally, the process would take too long. Everything has been signed and approved-”  

“Of course,” Xanthic snorted. After hours of working, the hacker finally stood up. In a few short strides she was at Penny’s side, boxing her into the chair with slender arms. Penny knew Xanthic wasn’t fit, wasn’t a fighter. Her hands weren’t calloused like Aro’s but steady, soft, and precise. Penny could easily win but somehow she felt small and weak under that white burning glare.  

Staring into eyes that were so similiar to her own… but so full of resentment was not pleasent.  

"So why would the General," Xanthic hissed the title out like venom, “Need me to skip the queue?”  

“And why should we tell a criminal, one caught red handed by General Ironwood himself.”  

“Winter!” Penny gasped, hydraulics in her back straightening her posture. The specialist’s voice alone lifted her Aura, but seeing Winter glower back at Xanthic corrected any insecurities the hacker caused. “What are you doing here?”  

“I don’t resume my duties till tomorrow,” Winter said, eyes closed and shoulders tensing for a moment. Xanthic sneered. Penny ignored it because Winter refused to acknowledge the hacker. “I did offer you a tour of Atlas Academy.”  

“How about you don’t make my job harder?” Xanthic asked throwing up her hands. She walked to the fridge, making sure to brush against Winter so the Specialist was forced to acknowledge her. Xan was shorter, but somehow she seemed to have just as strong of a presense. “Marigold gets a pass but you and Glade are aware of the consequences that comes with fame. You really think people wouldn’t look up the mysterious ginger? She is a ginger right?”  

“Penny did not disclose her identity until after we witnesses saw us together,” Winter said with an annoyed sigh.  

“Now you know. Yet you still insist on parading her around?” Xanthic reason. She crossed her arms and glared threateningly at one of the best Huntresses in Atlas. Both women were too busy posturing and trying to intimidate each other to see Penny shrink ever so slightly. She quickly straightened out again when Xanthic lost with an infuriating sigh. “Seriously. Please don’t make my job harder than it is.”  

“Penny’s cover is already ruined, what else would hinder your task?”  

“Research,” Xanthic said opening the fridge. She frowned and gave Penny a disapproving look. “It’s practically empty. Is that why you’re all skin and bones?”  

“I’m not skin and bones…” Penny mumbled under her breath. It felt… bittersweet, a small victory in admitting what she is but what was the point if they didn’t understand it? Predictably Xanthic didn’t believe her. The hacker rolled her cybernetic eyes and peeked into the freezer next.  

“Neopolitan ice cream. I can forgive the lack of food,” she said with a small smile. Penny added the favorite flavor to Xanthic’s notes. “I can do what Ironwood-”  

“General Ironwood.” Winter corrected.  

Xanthic continued without any acknowledgement, “Told me to do, get the legal documents into the system or I can do a good job and actually leave some breadcrumbs for people to find.”  

“Breadcrumbs?” Penny asked.  

“According to Ironwood,” Xanthic started, ignoring the way Winter’s hand twitched in frustration. She looked for cups and spoons. “You’re another SDC orphan.” At that Winter’s composition changed, for a split second she looked guilty. Guilty and sad over a lie. Penny sealed her lips tight and looked down at her hands. She wasn’t lying but her Aura still flared across her system. “I’m editing old security photos and videos too hide a very obscure Penny in it. So it doesn’t look like she just magically appeared out of nowhere.” The hacker finished, looking at Winter. There was a shift between them… Xan’s voice barely audiable to Penny’s sensitive eqiupment, “We don’t want a repeat of last time…”"  

The Specialist hummed, eyes glaring in Xanthic’s direction but not really focused on her until whatever thought left Winter’s mind, “Very well. I’ll inform General Ironwood.”  

“Unnecessary but it’s your energy to waste,” Xanthic said waving her hand. She sat back down in front of her temporary workstation and went back to writing lines of codes.  

“Waste of…” Winter paused, practically growling under her breath. No sound came out but with her facial expression, Penny practically heard it. “And what would be an optimal use of my energy?”  

Xanthic pointedly looked at the near empty fridge. Dr. Pietro’s facility was locked down durng P.E.N.N.Y’s finalization process. There was no reason to stock so much food in the recreational kitchen.  

“I am not doing your grocery shopping!”  

“I’m under house arrest!” Xanthic threw up her arms. Around both wrist was a bracelet with gravity and lighting Dust built in. Once activated it would pin her arms together or send a volt of electricity. Ideally non-lethal. "And I’m gonna be here for at least three days."  

“I’m sure the General wouldn’t mind if we accompany you.” Penny said quietly. The two barely stopped from yelling at each other and looked at her. “The Ace-Ops rudely escorted you here from you’re home. I didn’t see any bags either… so…” Luckily Xanthic was dressed for the day… still dressed from the previous day. Under Xanthic’s unblinking cybernetic eyes Penny’s confidence waned.  

Winter took a deep breath, a finger on her temple. Penny stared, wishing she would unclenched her jaw instead. “Was it Herriet and Elm? Those two are quick and rash.”  

“Herriet and Vine, actually.” Penny said.  

“Figures. Vine has always been to the letter,” The Specialist started to walk down into the living room, “I’ll contact General Ironwood and request your cuffs be synced with my Scroll.”  

“Oh how kind! Ms. Schnee and her girlfriend taking me out for a walk. May I have a treat Mistress?” The hacker asked, her monotone voice alive with sarcasm. She even struck a pose along with batting long eyelashes. Perhaps it would be more effective if her makeup wasn’t so intimidating.  

Winter scowled and the two Atlas elites stared at each other for a minute. The silent challenged ended in a draw, they broth broke eye contact with Winter taking a seat and closing her Scroll. Within a few minutes Xanthic had finished her ice cream and checked the fridge again. With a some excessive force, Xanthic shut the fridge and continued working. Penny watched her hit the backspace more than she should.  

“Alright!” Xanthic yelled, ten minutes later. “I’ll play… nicer than usual.”  

Winter looked too dignified and controlled to smirk but the air around her was far too smug. Maybe it was the lack of reaction that held superiority? Whatever it was it annoyed Xanthic and puzzled Penny.  

The call only took a few minutes. Winter returned to the kitchen and held her Scroll to the gravity cuffs around the hacker’s wrist. It beeped twice, the cuffs flashing green. Outside an unmarked car pulled up. Once Winter opened the door Xanthic’s attitude resurfaced.  

“Are you fucking serious?” She asked staring at the front seat. Their transport was being driven by an AK-200. “I’d like to live.”  

“I’ll drive if you’ll shut up,” It seemed the Specialist was nearing her limit.  

“Again, I’d like to live.”  

“They aren’t that bad,” Penny reasoned softly. She physically stepped between them, even if they could clearly see above her head. That chip of insecurity wedged into her a little. Winter’s patient gaze gave her the strength to continue with a straight spin and even voice, “Safe driving is within their capabilities.”  

“Hm… fine,” Xanthic huffed crossing her arms. “I suppose three VIPs dying will finally help people realize these things are horrible.” Winter quickly got into the car, hiding her face but the door slammed with enough force to shake their transport. Xanthic sneered, a small victory. It would take more than a simple crash to harm a huntress… but her future teammate was a civilian.  

“How terrifying is it to live without a protective Aura?” Penny asked following Xanthic in. This time Xanthic glared at her while Winter sneered. Penny merely tilted her head in confusion, staring at the hacker for an answer.  

“You and fucking Glade,” Xanthic muttered. She looked out the window and the car was relatively silent as Penny tried to figure out how she insulted her future teammate.  

Their first stop was Xanthic’s house. It was big enough for a family and gated, Penny could see some trees growing in the backyard and a garden being tended too by a robot and two Ace-Op members. Before the gate could close behind them, Xanthic swung the door open and jumped out of the slow moving vehicle. Winter was quickly to follow so Penny felt compelled to do the same, even if her steps weren’t a confident march like Winter.  

“Welcome back, Lady Xanthic.” The robot gardener greeted with a bow. “May we prepare a meal for you and your guest?” Xanthic ignored it, pointing a finger at Clover then Marrow. Rude, Penny frowned looking at the robot. It didn’t seem to mind…  

“What the fuck are you two doing here?”  

“I could ask you the same question,” Clover said. His eyes gently swept to Winter and momentarily lingered on Penny. She ducked her head, eyes on the ground and stepping behind her Specialist. “But knowing Schnee, it’s classified.” He smiled but it wasn’t directed at Winter. Her professional mask didn’t recuperate any friendliness but the lack of a negative response was approval, in a way.  

“We’re ensuring you don’t escape a previously hacked into facility, pack your things, and run off,” Marrow answered. By Xanthic’s scowl and huff at a proper answer, the question must have been rhetorical. Penny was realizing most of her questions weren’t actually questions. Marrow plucked an apple from the robot gardener’s basket and took a bite. He hummed at the taste. “Oh and wonderful place! Very hermit and simple.”  

“The singular word would be self-sustaining,” Xanthic growled arms crossed. She finally looked at her butler. It was a different model than the one Penny first saw, smooth and curved, the design and cut in the chassis flowing almost gentlly. “Pack all the leftovers and anything you can prepare in 10 minutes. Not staying long.”  

“Understood, Lady Xanthic.” The gardenerbot bowed a little, then knelt back down and resume working on the garden. Through the window Penny saw two more robots walk into the kitchen. The robot did use we when addressing Xanthic, the robot’s AI must share a network, a hivemind. One of the butlers was definitely the model Penny saw driving the night they first met. Sharp edges, thick layered metal plates, intimidating faceplate, a bodyguard?  

Marrow whistled, “Impressive. For a criminal.”  

“Standard. For a genius.” Xanthic scoffed walking to the front door. She pressed her Scroll to the lock and it slide open. When Marrow moved to follow Clover stopped him.  

“You heard the bots, we can enter the yard but not the house. Until we have a warrant, they are authorized to open fire under the Home Defense Clause.”  

Xanthic chuckled softly, “Good Bobs.”  

“Thank you, Lady Xanthic.” Her butler chirped. Penny frowned staring at it before following Winter. The synthetic voice was flat, could almost past as human if Xanthic wanted it too.  

“Man… how does manage to show us up on her day off?” Marrow mumbled walking to Clover. “And the girl?”  

“Classified,” Winter called over her shoulder. Marrow yelped, a little surprised his loud voice carried that far.  

The first thing Penny’s sensors detected was an increase of temperature. Once she entered Xanthic’s home she understood why. Servers and machines lined the walls, countless of physical monitors mounted onto a surface and displaying news channels across the world. Others had lines of code or blueprints, one monitor occasionally flashed red and ‘Simulation Error. Project: BILLY unable to sync’.  

Xanthic stared at it but glanced at Winter. The Specialist glanced around the room for any weapon, then trained her eyes on the hacker. Xanthic grumbled, walking into the kitchen and sitting at the table. Like Aro’s home there was small electrical components and tools, but only one.  

A broken robot that looked like a ram laid on the table, small enough to fit in a pocket.  

Penny sat down and slowly reached for it. “May I?”  

“I can’t exactly stop you.” Xanthic barked. Penny flinched and recoiled. Xanthic sighed, “Right, I’m suppose to play nice… Yeah go ahead.” Slowly Penny scooped up the broken bits of metal and wire. Cradling it. “It was meant to be a monitoring bot.”  

“You mean spy?”  

“I mean as in a kid’s pet. The current cybernetic pets haven’t been changed in half a decade. It’s boring.”  

“… But a goat?” Winter asked with a raised brow.  

Xan smirked, “Greatest Of All Time.” This time Winter did let out a visible display of distain, along with… some surprise? Penny giggled at the light flush across her face.  

She politely decline the food the serverbots offered. Winter accepted a smaller portion while Xanthic scarfed it down. They continued their neutral banter for a few minute, talking about mundane robots walking around Atlas. Penny tried to focus all her processing power into examining the broken robot, but she kept focusing in on Winter’s voice.  

They were objects, they were supposed to be weapons. Xanthic scoffed and argued, they were flexible tools, with familial potential. The two agreed that robots were things but not on the functions. Penny’s function was to protect, she was a weapon. She was her father’s daughter, family… Her Aura stirred throughout her systems, sinking and sinking like it was trying to unplug her power unit.  

In her palm was a pet… “May I have this?” Penny asked.  

Xanthic looked at her through the glass of her cup and finished inhaling her water. “Sure. I doubt I’ll be able to work on any of my personal stuff now.” She held up her wrist, cuffs shining in the sun.  

The hacker spent the remainder of the 10 minutes packing some clothes and books. Winter looked through both, packing it even neater than Xanthic originally had it.  

The trip for groceries was short and uneventful now that Xanthic was cooperating. Penny almost missed her antagonism. It was entertaining, Penny found herself fiddling with the broken bot, thoughts drifting. The future members of APCX were quiet. Winter had her usual professionalism on but every so often worry would break though when she looked at Penny.  

Robots were tools, not meant to function outside their purpose. According to General Ironwood, she was a protector. According to her father-  

“I lied.” Xanthic said suddenly. Her volume was neutral but after a car ride with soft music it was an abrupt cut in Penny’s thoughts.  

“Surprising.” Winter sneered. It wasn’t as hostile as it was earlier but not as playful as with May or Aro.  

“Me and Glade have… history. That was supposed to be a gift.”  

“Really?” Penny asked. Winter held her Scroll to the facility’s front door and escorted the two VIP’s back to the recreation quarters. “I checked Aro’s files. There was some inconsistences during her internship with my father.”  

“I’ll have to fix that later then.” They were in the same environment nearly five years ago. That was enough confirmation for Penny. She helped Winter put away the food and memorized what they bought. Penny doesn’t eat, Winter isn’t a frequent visitor- though Penny hope that is going to change, so everything is Xanthic’s. She noted a surprising amount of sweets, either mint chocolate or some kind of strawberry flavor. She favored salt and vinegar snacks. The meals her butlerbots packaged was well balanced, most things fresh from her gardens.  

Winter synced the hacker’s cuffs back to the recreational area. Penny pulled the remains of the robot from her pocket… and stared at it. If weapon can’t be intimate with people, what does her time at the Military Event classify as?  

“Penny?” She heard Winter’s whisper shortly before registering a light pressure on her shoulder. She almost jumped. Her Aura ramped her system, nearly triggering a fight response. With concentration Penny was able to calmly look up at the Specialist. “Are you alright? Did the crowds at the store bother you?”  

“No…” It was her and the hacker that troubled Penny. “I’m-” fine. The words stopped in her synthetic vocals. She could feel her Aura swirl in her chest at the lie. “Just thinking. I’m going to gather some tools and materials for this little…”  

“Billy. I’ll send you the software after you fix it.” Xanthic said.  

Penny quickly excited the room, Winter’s hand just hovering there for a few seconds before Penny turned the corner and lost visual of both of them. Weapons can’t be friends. Penny shrank in, hands squeezing tighter and tighter. She ignored the warnings and only focused on the wires tightening in her chest.  

Then the squeezing gave way.  

Six days since her last artificial skin tear, rest to zero.  

Her room was simple, very similar to the workshop back in Atlas Academy. No bed, only an examination table with mechanical arms for maintenance. The drawers were full of tools, parts, or accessories. Things that was on the workbench for weapons. People did not wear artificial skin. The tear was easy to repair, thin layer of sillicone and wires around her index finger was torn clean off.  

A light knock on her door made Penny jump. Xanthic would be stuck in the recreational area, trying to leave would meant a painful shock. Winter… she was Ironwood’s second-in-command, she may have access to most of the facility but-  

Another knock.  

“Y- Yes?” She called out. To her surprised and relief her father opened the door. “You… knocked?”  

“Winter fetched me, told me that you seemed upset,” Dr. Pietro said. His chair slowly walked forward, as if ready to turn on a moment’s notice. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted privacy or not.”  

“Ms. Xanthic is restricted to the living quarters of this facility. Winter would be authorized entrance if allowed here,” Penny said. Pricacy was a human concept. She wasn’t… “My privacy is unnecessary.”  

“That does’t mean you can’t want it,” Dr. Pietro said gently. He looked at Penny’s hands and took a breath. Concern, worry, love. Emotions meant for people. It was easy to read these emotions from her father, yet somehow tiring.  

She was tired of seeing him worry.  

“I’m sorry,” Penny mumbled.  

“Maybe this entire Vytal Festival is a bad idea…” For once, Dr. Pietro’s voice was stern. It wasn’t hard like how the General’s could get but it was so odd hearing him frustrated.  

“No!” Penny yelled. She gasped at her own volume. Dr. Pietro jumped in surprised but he didn’t look mad. In fact he nodded and encouraged Penny to continue. “I want to fight! I want to see Vale.” And after the stories Aro told them during the Military Show, Penny wanted to see Minangire. May told stories about the mountains in Minstral and Winter balked at the heat in Vacuo. She wanted to see the world. Her simulations programs were the most accurate ones developed but nothing compared her own experience.  

Her father looked concern again and Penny made a noise. It was a reflex she hadn’t perform before, that hum of frustration May did so much. Her father looked shocked but smiled and laugh.  

“I’ve never seen you pout before. My, my, one day and you’ve learn so much already,” He said patting Penny’s hand. “And that’s really the General decision to make. And I doubt he’s changing his mind.”  

Penny let him repair the tear in the artificial skin. She made sure to watch, wanting to cherish the moment just as the others cherished their visits to other kingdoms. A moment that was truly hers and not programed into her. A special gel will act as a conduit for the wires and adhesive for the silicone. His hands went to work soothing everything back in place, encouraging the material to bound in a way that wouldn’t leave a mark.  

“I will always worry, my dear,” Dr. Pietro said. “I know you are fully capable of taking care of yourself, but it’s just what fathers do.” The word stirred in Penny’s processors, she hoped it would stick. After all, weapons didn’t have fathers.  

“Then… what do daughters do?”  

Whatever Dr. Pietro had to say wasn’t fully vocalized. Instead the smile dropped for a moment and he sighed. “That depends on the girl,” Dr. Pietro said, “Specialist Schnee chose to leave her family… Family company to protect others.”  

“And… Ms. Xanthic?”  

Dr. Pietro raised a brow, “I think it’d be best if you asked her yourself.”  

Penny flinched at the thought. There was a 2% chance of a pleasant conversation. 95% chance Xanthic would yell at her. Penny left the remaining 3% as open-to-human-nature.  

“I… suppose,” She grumbled. There was a 100% chance of avoiding confrontation with Xanthic if she did not ask.  

Primary Function: Protector Daughter

A Jealous Tango (The Writer and The Photographer, Harry Holland x Reader) - Chapter Five

Hi everyone! Here is chapter five sorry it took so long, but nonetheless I hope you enjoy! Also the lack of Harry gifs is disturbing... Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! 

Summary: Harry and (Y/N) go to the mall where much to Harry’s dismay a pretty girl catches a lot of unwanted attention. 

Warning(s): Language, Not edited

Word Count: 2004

Kingston, England was on the verge of June, the warmth of the summer months beginning to stick, and Harry was happy? He felt like the word did little to sum up how he felt but everything was going well, he did not feel that gaping hole in his chest anymore. The vast black hole had seemed to vanish and the British boy had a sneaking suspicion on why.

Knocking on the dark blue door beforehand, Harry let himself into the neighbor’s flat. It had become a regular occurence, for the curly haired boy to let himself in over the past few weeks, his knocks were always drowned out by the blaring tunes. Kicking off his converse Harry tiptoed into the oddly silent house searching for any signs of life. At the white dining room table sat Hayley in a pair of sweatpants and what looked to be an old high school t-shirt, editing a book cover on her laptop. “Hey” She greeted her eyes barely lifting from the brightly lit screen.

 “Hey” Harry responded, scratching the back of his head as his eyes scanned the downstairs for a particular brunette. It’s not that he did not like the twin girls, in fact he got along with them quite well, many of the days and nights of the month of May spent over here. Harry had practically become their fourth roommate and first official British friend. It was just he had plans with one in particular today. 

“She’s upstairs.” Hayley laughed watching Harry’s roaming eyes. 

The boy spun back to face her, “Wha- I didn’t even ask where she was?” The one twin only remained silent, lifting her eyebrows into a ‘seriously’ look, a look which caused a faint blush to appear on Harry’s neck and cheeks.

 “She’s ‘writing’” Hayley added, her hands lifting from the keyboard to do air quotes as she said “writing.” 

Furrowing his eyebrows, Harry gave her a questioning look, “What does that mean?” He mimicked her air quotes. And as if on queue loud thumping was heard from ceiling, Hayley only snickering too herself. “Oh you’ll see.”

Trekking up the stairs Harry heard the faint sound of the thumping again and what he believed to be singing. At the top of the stairs were three white doors, one door to his right was cracked open slightly. He approached the door, the door that led to her room, knocking slightly before poking his head in. The humorous sight on display in front of him had Harry covering his mouth to hide his laughter. (Y/N) clad in black pjs, which to his luck included a pair of shorts, was dancing around her room wildly. Her headphones were in as she twirled and jumped around singing along to the song.

 “Ob la di, ob-la-da, life goes on, bra. La-la, how the life goes on. Ob-la di, ob-la-da, life goes on, bra. La-la, how the life goes on!” She shouted into her imaginary fist of a microphone, eyes closed and completely oblivious to the other person now in her bedroom. A malicious smile worked its way onto Harry’s face, she was practically asking for it. Quietly sneaking up behind her, Harry outstretched his hands ready to attack. (Y/N) continued on in her blissful ignorance, still shouting out the words to the song.

 Her arms shot up as the chorus came giving Harry the perfect opportunity to quickly grab her sides. A loud shriek escaped (Y/N)’s lips, eyes wide in horror as she spun to find Harry laughing and clutching at his chest.  “You fucker!” She screamed, ripping off her headphones, Harry only staggering back to fall onto her neatly made bed. (Y/N) only stood there trying to rein in her racing heartbeat, giving Harry a look that could kill. 

“The Beatles really?” 

“I hate you.” She deadpanned, ignoring his question, and lightly punching his arm. 

“I’m sorry, it was too perfect of an opportunity to give up!” (Y/N) rolled her eyes setting her headphones down onto her desk, still a bit startled. Propping himself up on her bed, Harry eyed her pajamas once again, “Did you forget we are going out today?” For the second time this morning, (Y/N)’s eyes widened. 

“Um..No?” (Y/N) grinned sheepishly at the boy, she had been attempting to get into the writing mood, but had gotten sidetracked. Harry rolled his eyes feigning annoyance but, his large smile betrayed him. 

“Hurry up and get dressed!” (Y/N) gave him a quick innocent smile before rushing into her bathroom with a pile of clothes tucked into her arms.

The Westfield Mall was… overwhelming. Sure (Y/N) had been to the Mall of America, but that was familiar places. As she walked around Westfield, eyes scanning the stores, she realized hadn’t even heard of half of them. Harry had been showing her around, introducing her to new stores for the past hour. The two were quite simply just having fun and enjoying each other’s company.

 “So did you always write or was it something you just stumbled upon?” Harry pondered as he took a large sip from his drink. (Y/N) peeled her eyes away from the patterns on the tile floor, her eyes falling onto his. Both of their hearts leaping just a tiny bit. 

“I think I was always meant to tell stories in some way or another. When I was little, before I could even write full sentences, I would create these little books of just drawings and I would tell stories based on the images to my classmates.” Harry laughed at that, earning him that shy smile of hers that was always destroying his heart piece by piece. “When I got into my early teens, I started writing fanfiction.” Harry lifted an eyebrow at that. “Don’t you say a word!” (Y/N) giggled into the palm of her hand before continuing. “So yes, I guess writing, storytelling, was always in the works for me.” Harry nodded imagining a little (Y/N), pigtails and wide eyes telling stories to the other toothless children in her classroom. 

“Is there a music store in here?” (Y/N) questioned as she swung her bags back and forth, in between her and Harry. “Ye-” Harry’s response was cut off by a high pitched squeal, piercing through the mall nearby. (Y/N) and Harry shared a concerned look before identifying the source, two teenage girls in their school uniforms. The two girls were wide eyed gawking at them from the other side of the hall.

 “Uh-Oh.” 

Harry muttered bracing himself for the ambush. Ever since Tom had risen to fame, Harry started getting noticed just for being Spiderman’s brother. He even had his own fanbase… The girls rushed over, shoes clacking heavily against the white tile.

 “Oh my god, it’s you!” One girl gushed her cheeks burning. 

Harry went to speak up when the second girl interrupted him, “I, well we absolutely love your book!” Harry’s jaw snapped back up in surprise, looking over to a grinning (Y/N). Sometimes he forgot she was famous. 

“Awe thank you!” (Y/N) responded making the girl’s giggle at the difference in accents. 

“Your book really helped me to embrace myself and my inner crazy. It helped me realize that it's okay to be different.” The first girl added. (Y/N)’s eyes shone in admiration, she would never get over hearing how her book had helped others. The book that had taught her to heal was now helping others, it was beautiful. 

“I’m so glad, would you like a picture?” The two girls nodded rapidly, the second retrieving her phone from her purse. “Well perhaps my trusty photographer can take the photo?” 

The girls finally looked over to Harry, eyes widening even more. “Harry Holland!” The girl handed him her phone, both of their eyes flickering back and forth between the Harry and (Y/N). “Are you two friends?” The girls both smirked.

 (Y/N) moved to stand in between the two girls, a large smile on her face. “Yeah, It’s a pretty small world isn’t it?”

(Y/N) and Harry continued on heading towards the music store, conveniently located on the other side of the shopping center. “You know it’s really nice meeting fans…” (Y/N) sighed, trailing off. 

“Yeah?” Harry pushed, of course he knew how amazing it was, but he sensed there was more to her statement. 

“I-I always felt like an outsider growing up, didn’t really fit in with the crowds. Things got better after I met the twins in high school, but I was still different. It warms my heart hearing from people that I, little ol’ me, helped them accept their differences and appreciate it.” Harry offered her a small smile. 

“I know what you mean, I still struggle with feeling on the outside, especially after Tom. Everyone does a great job of making sure my brothers and I don’t feel that way, but sometimes you can’t help feeling like your standing in his shadow. But I don’t feel that with you.” Harry would never admit it, but he felt like he was standing in the blistering hot sun when he was with her, no shadows to be found.

The two split up once they were inside the music store, (Y/N) hunting down a John Williams record while Harry sorted through the CD’s. He did not pay much mind to her until he heard a deep “Hi” echo throughout the store. Harry’s head instinctively lifted searching for the origin of the greeting, finding something much to his dismay. A tall brunette worker stood in front of (Y/N), grinning down at her. Harry stood up straight, the CD’s he was ransaking through now forgotten. He watched as the guy flirted shamelessly with (Y/N), who in return only smiled back. Maybe she was just being polite or maybe she thought he was cute. Whatever the case, Harry’s stomach dropped as he continued to watch the events unfold.

 “You’re American? That’s so cool!” He could not handle it anymore, he could not allow for it to get out of hand. What if he asked for her number? Harry quickly zigzagged through the aisles of music, stopping once he was in front of (Y/N). 

“Hey,” Harry pushed himself in between the tall brunette and his favorite American, “Um… your… Aunt… Jemima called she needs our help!” And with that, Harry wooshed (Y/N) out of the music store, her record hunt being abandoned. 

“Harry!” (Y/N) called in protest, but he only continued to guide her out into the main hall of the mall. “My Aunt Jemima? The syrup lady? What the hell was that about?” (Y/N) demanded once they were far enough from the store. She could almost laugh at his excuse, but she was not sure as to why he felt the need to use it. 

“I was saving you from that asshole back there.” Harry simply stated as they walked towards the exit.

 “What? Harry he was only helping me find my record!” 

He rolled his eyes at that, “Oh please! Helping my ass!” (Y/N) scoffed crossing her arms, her bags whacking Harry slightly.

 “Oh so what about the girl at the burrito place? Was she just helping make your burrito?” Harry’s head whipped over to look at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

 “This is different, she was just doing her job.” (Y/N) laughed at that, head dropping back for dramatics. 

“Oh did her job include being all over you and not so subtle winks?” That silenced Harry, he did not recall the girl being over the top like that. His attention had been elsewhere… 

“I didn’t notice.” 

(Y/N) sighed once again, uncrossing her arms. “I swear on everything, I’m going to kick your ass when we get home.” Harry smirked, nudging his shoulder into hers. 

“Oh… I’m getting a little excited!” (Y/N) bit back a laugh, both of the friends returning to their previous calm and joyful moods. Neither one wanting to admit that there bickering had been about the jealousy growing inside them. 

“Stop or else I’ll have to call Aunt Jemima.”

Taglist: 

@aloneinherroom​

@ineedabifriend​

@with-my-soul-and-heart​

How to turn a London Con trip into a “Chernobyl” trip.

I’m home so I can finally make this post.

Where to start.

Okay-

Let’s start with “Chernobyl”. It happened a few months ago, fell on our heads like a nuclear bomb. We all loved the protagonists but Viktor Charkov, the KGB chairman, is also a memorable, creepy, hateful character who got under our skin with the cold truth of his words, the harsh reality of his behaviour. He was too real, too pragmatic to be ignored. From stories I’ve been told in person, he’s no different than the executive arms of tyrants we had here not more than forty years ago. He exists. People like him live among us.

As for the actor himself, so strange. See, there is no mention of Alan Williams’ age on IMDB or Wikipedia and that’s enough to show that, apart from his theatre, TV and film work, little is known about him. Where to find him, contact him, he’s too old to care about social media and apparently he never was too sought out, not with a “face like a bagful of donuts” as he jokes.

But I was thrilled. I wrote the first chapter of “A single bullet” after watching “Chernobyl” and I just had to show it to this elusive low-profile thespian who inspired me. Because... I don’t know, because. Just to say “Thanks for doing a magnificent job. Thanks for helping me understand evil.”

So I tried contacting his agent. I gave her my name and nationality. I thought I’d just send her the link and forget about it.

Apparently, she forgot about it too because I never heard from her.

After a month London Con was upon us, but what to do in the evenings? Plays of course. I booked a ticket for “The woman in black” and “The Hunt” with Tobias Menzies. Then I searched and searched for Alan Williams plays but, to my dismay, he had finished playing Ivan Romanovich Chebutykin in “Three sisters” at the beginning of June and his new play, “Faith, hope and charity”, wouldn’t premiere before September. Just my luck to be in London in between the two plays. No stage door queue, no autographs.

After spending a full Saturday at London Con and Sunday at the British Museum, Monday had to be a day of leisure. A free concert at St Martin-in-the-Fields before lunch was all I was capable of attending, drag my steps towards the closest bus stop that would drop me off… wherever. I didn’t care.

But then I decided to read my post from the previous day about managing to buy a ticket for “The girl on the train” at the very last minute and meeting Alex Ferns, the naked miner. The unexpected ticket, the unexpected hug.

Now how difficult would it be to meet an actor who is NOT doing a play at the moment?

Very very difficult, confirmed one voice.

He’s rehearsing for ‘Faith, hope and charity’, isn’t he? disagreed another. He must be. It’s almost August and the play opens in September. He’s at work right now. He must be!!!

I googled and googled for almost an hour. I found that “Faith, hope and charity” would be staged at the Dorfman theatre near Waterloo station so I called the stage door. I explained to the receptionist that I did not know Mr Williams in person but I was visiting London for only a few days, was a big fan of his work in “Chernobyl” and I would really love to greet him. The man on the phone was very helpful revealing that this was their first day of rehearsing (the incredible coincidence!) and they had started only… an hour ago. He asked my name and I said “Well… you can say Eleni”, I mean, who needs my complicated surname, right? The guy said he’d save my number and let Mr Williams know.

Oh god.

But I couldn’t just sit there waiting for a call, I’d never get that call, come on.

So I rushed to the Dorfman Theatre. I was breaking my brain trying to figure out how I could get the Charkov chapter of “A single bullet” printed in a district with no stationary shops whatsoever. I was hoping I could… shove it into his face I don’t know, and later imagine he’d be reading it. He didn’t really have to read it, just nod condescendingly and lie that he would, and that would be enough to put a smile on my face. Just like all those toys and drawings people give to celebs at cons that end up in the hands of volunteers, assistants or charities, if not in the trash.

When I got there I talked to a different receptionist, a very professional, very unhelpful young man. For safety reasons he wasn’t supposed to disclose neither the time they’d finish nor the time of recess. For safety reasons I had to go through Mr Williams’ agent to get to him. Outrageous, the woman didn’t even forward my story to him, let alone give me permission to meet him. I was hopeless, I was being turned down. I was being an idiot.

“But they must have a lunch break, right??” I insisted. “Can’t I just wait outside?”

That guy was a goddamn sphinx, and the helpful guy was still talking on the phone or to some lady there, I don’t remember, so I couldn’t reach out to him. Suddenly I felt unnecessarily needy as if I was sitting on the subway floor, shaking my hat to passers-by, clinging my few coins. How humiliating.

With heavy steps I exited the theatre. Why is it so complicated, why do I need someone else’s “permission”? I’m not a child. I looked around, it was a sunny day, people were sitting in coffee tables out in the patio. Some tables were empty but I didn’t care, I just sat on a column by the entrance, far enough to not be seen by the receptionists and feel like shit for lingering, close enough to catch anyone exiting.

For an hour and a half I crouched over my phone trying to figure out how to contact the agent without sounding too stalkery. I called the agency but the girl on the phone gave me the same email address where I had sent my fic. Fine. I changed the wording of my message again and again so as not to sound too needy or creepy even if I knew it wouldn’t work.

I knew I had missed my concert for no reason and I would soon have to leave because who doesn’t like giving up? It’s better to give up than stress over something that’s never gonna happen. It always is.

I was seconds away from clicking “send” and making a fool of myself to the agent for a second time when I thought I saw someone, a towering presence stopping a few meters away, looking over, hesitating, waiting.

I raised my head.

There he was, three-dimensional, bathed in sunlight. Not an image in my head anymore.

Believe me when I say that I was staring at Gandalf, Santa Claus, the Grail Knight from “Indiana Jones”, the Big Bad Wolf.

I honestly don’t know what I was staring at.

But there he was, in all his elderly silver-bearded glory. A myth in my mind, in the flesh. How did he know I was there? I didn’t tell anyone. I was supposed to be hiding.

After nanoseconds of deer-like stun I did the polite thing and jumped on my feet, ready for a handshake. I mean, I had to stand up, right? He had come out just for me.

Shit. What had I done? The nerve.

The first thing I remember noticing when I got closer were his faded blue eyes with a distinguishable light-shaded rim circling the iris. The rest was just word vomit, how we all love him on tumblr, write fics, make memes etc.

Memes?

I described to him the “Try me, bitch” edit we all love, courtesy of @two-screaming-rats.

He didn’t get it at first, then he laughed so HARD, so damn hard. You guys have to see Charkov laughing his heart out.

He said he only had a few minutes before he had to go back to the rehearsal so I decided to start the conversation with the Charkov fanfics. He was quick to apologize for not answering my email. “I’m sorry but… but I honestly don’t know what to say when someone sends me a story,” he admitted humbly. “I read all of them but… I mean I’ve been sent stories based on my characters before but I really wouldn’t know what to say.”

Okay first of all, he read my story. I don’t know if he read it a month ago when I sent it or minutes before he exited the theatre to greet me but he did.

Secondly, there are more stories about his characters? WHERE.

“I’m not a writer anyway,” I said apologetically.

The unexpected reassurance. “But you are.”

I guess one doesn’t have to be The Writer™, they just have to write. What a way to be courteous to a fan though.

Then I mentioned how we love Charkov’s trademark, his glasses, how we’re frantically looking for ‘80s-looking glasses, how we obsess over specific frames and brands.

“They’re not a brand,” he clarified, “they were specifically made for me, they’re an exact replica of Viktor Chebrikov’s glasses. Just like our clothes that were made by seamstresses who worked during that era.”

Naturally I praised the production’s attention to detail that has us ranting, how beautiful and “European” it all looked, how true the script was to Lyudmila’s story as it was described in Svetlana Alexievich’ “Chernobyl prayer”. I talked about my thoughts when I first heard there would be a “Chernobyl” TV series: the Americans made a TV show based on events that affected Europe, now that’s a new one. He mentioned Russian media admitting that they should have made that show, not the Americans. I agreed but also added “That’s the thing, it may be beautifully made, it may be the truth, but it’s still propaganda. Just because it’s true, just because the Soviet government did all those horrible things, that doesn’t mean that the show is not serving someone’s agenda.” He disagreed saying that the Soviet people were shown in a good light for their bravery and sacrifice. Well, we knew that, didn’t we.

I said how impressed I was by his portrayal of Charkov because we were told about people like him by dictatorship victims at school. People who had been tortured in the ‘70s came to us, talking about their time in underground cells, in the hands of sadists like Charkov. I told him about my uncle who was arrested and executed by the Nazis for distributing left-wing leaflets, about my grandmother who had to escape to the mountains during the civil war that followed the German occupation because she was a communist. I explained how real it felt to me, his last scene with Legasov in the kitchen. How bleak and horribly accurate.

He mentioned “You’re one of us, Legasov”. To him Charkov was just doing his job, working for the greater good and he agreed with the quote in my fic, that Charkov “couldn’t wait to retire”.

He then joked about Charkov being blasé after the committee meeting, “Meh, I’m done with arresting people, I let others do it for me”.

I assure you all those questions were answered in a couple of minutes, and I was certain our meeting was about to come to an end.

But then… he gestured toward an empty table.

Don’t let an aged man standing, was my spontaneous thought. I was reminded of my father.

Then I realized. He gestured toward an empty table.

Table. The two of us. On a sunny day.

Time, he was offering me his time.

And… oh my god, this was practically an interview, why was I not recording this, he was answering my questions so effortlessly.

No. That would be rude, that would be greedy.

Just relax and enjoy the moment and try to remember fucking everything.

I asked him what his inspiration for Charkov was, if he based his portrayal on other actors or historical figures. He paused to think and explained that the script was very strict anyway, very defined. However he did mention  Charkov’s line, “I know you’ve heard the stories about us. When I hear them, even I am shocked” and how that reflected Stalin’s hypocritical quote, “What do I know, I’m just a peasant”.

His favourite line was “Trust but verify, and the Americans think that Ronald Reagan thought that up”.

“Is that really an old Russian proverb…?” I wondered.

“I… don’t know!” he laughed.

During the rest of the conversation he mentioned his friend whose job was to translate the Pravda, and his years in Canada where he met Czech-Greeks, namely Greek communists who were driven away by our right-wing government after the Second World War. Even the Soviets didn’t want them so they were sent to the Czech Republic and ended up in Canada. These people belonged nowhere.

I didn’t know that, and he didn’t know about Vladimir Gubarev, the writer of the play “Sarcophagus” and science editor of the Pravda who was the recipient of Legasov’s tapes. I quoted him saying “Why call the protagonist Legasov since that’s not how Legasov was, they could have used a character who’s a scientist and give him any other name.” Like Ulana, I added, who’s a composite character, or Chebrikov/Charkov, mostly fictional.

Our conversation was coming to an end; he asked me what plays I saw in London and he smiled when I mentioned Alex Ferns in “The girl on the train”.

It was truly overwhelming; I was torn between being swept away by the moment, focusing on nothing but the faded blue of his eyes, bathing in the calm rhythm of his voice, and actually paying attention to what he was saying. Only once did my eyes dart at his left hand spotting the unusually thick golden ring on his finger. When one’s mind plays tricks the best way to discipline is a glimpse at The Ring because if he didn’t have nearly my father’s years I’d probably be having a horribly inappropriate crush.

“Time to go,” he apologized.

We took a couple of photos and I pulled out Svetlana Alexievich’ book, asking for an autograph.

“Where should I sign?” he asked.

“Wherever you want.”

He flipped through the pages noticing my page markers, notes and underlinings. “What are these for?”

“Just… just notes. Do you want my—” I suggested grabbing my big-ass permanent marker.

Without a word he gave a knowing smile and, like an experienced conjurer, he pulled out of his jacket an elegant little sharpie. Delicate pens for delicate words.

I didn’t dare read what he wrote to me then, I could only make out his name through that intelligible doctor-like writing. Surely my name wasn’t there because I hadn’t introduced myself. Still, I thanked him from the bottom of my heart.

Time to go.

We shook hands and I said how honoured I was that he had spent time with me. I tried not to stare as he disappeared into the theatre but before I left I ran into the foyer, quickly thanked the receptionist to whom I had talked on the phone and stormed out of the building with that huge wave of adrenaline pumping violently in my ears.

As I crossed the street I was grinning like an idiot. I knew I had to stop right there and write down everything before I forgot - but it was pointless. I’m not a recorder to have to write down everything the minute it happens. It’s enough to remember the pale rimming of his eyes.

Now, two days after meeting him, I’m still torn between pride and embarrassment. What the hell was I thinking? Doesn’t a man deserve to work in peace?

But as I’m writing this and attaching his signature on the first page of “Chernobyl prayer” I dare for the first time read what he wrote to me.

Pleasure to meet you.

People say they have religious moments when meeting their favourite celebs.

Mine was poetic.

What a darling, darling man.

Let The Flames Begin: Tune Tuesday

Alright y’all might have seen that this account’s been starting up for the first time in a while. We’re actually going around and doing stuff, cool. There’s one simple reason for that, and this is me, Lexi, the one behind this whole thing talking: I’ve decided to cut out all the toxic people in my life and extend my vetting for letting new people in. (queue this music because I’m allowed to have musical overlays on my textposts it’s tuesday! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_ohWuaNPWo ) If you’ve been reading my other posts you can probably piece it all together, but in the last 6 months I found myself a decent friend group at college... at least I thought I did. See, originally it was just me and this real chill guy who I won’t say the name of because internet, so I’ll just call him E. E and I met up near the start of the school year because E was just such an approachable person that even I could overcome my big NPC energy to talk to him. We got to talking, and decided it would be cool to start up a club for RPGs at the school, so that players and gamemasters could draw from a pool of people to make sure everyone got the experience they wanted. Then came D (again, not their name because privacy, but also y’know, I can’t resist calling him a D because he’s a d i c k), he was originally pretty chill, but almost immediately he ripped the club idea from my hands and decided all on his own without any input from me or E or anyone else that the club was going to include all tabletop games. Alright not at all what the club was supposed to be about, but okay. So a month rolls by, and D has determined that the club is going to do RPGs at most once a month. You know, the thing we were designed around in the first place, not ‘each campaign once a month’ which I could vaguely see to prevent burnout but nah, nah he means ‘one official club campaign session spread across all campaigns per month’. What. The. Fuck. Then it’s October, and I’ve got this cool idea, reverse trick-or-treating, you know that thing where you go door to door and give people candy? It was gonna be nice, and cool, and I told the whole friend-group about it at the start of October. Other shit happened in October regarding people I look up to and the discontinuation of my absolute favorite show, so there’s that. But the important thing to this post happened on Halloween, that day when they all said they’d join me going around giving people candy, and we’d all have a good time. I’d arranged it for six... six rolls around, no one’s there. I check the group discord, and I’m like ‘hey, where is everybody?’ only response is from E, saying that most people are at dinner and we should probably reschedule to later. I reply that it’s understandable and rearrange for 8. I get a message from B (only time she’s mentioned) saying she’ll be able to show up for sure. No one showed up. Only one person at 10 who came to console me because I kinda exploded in the discord server because I’d been planning this all month and no one fucking showed up. Yeah I cried myself to sleep that night, don’t judge. So now it’s November, and I finally put into action a plan I’d wanted to work on since the start of college: A larp league at the school, only problem is I’m going to have to craft the system from nothing. Alright, I’ve got inspiration from said favorite show ever that was cancelled in october, I’m going to base it around that. I then tell everyone in the friend group and they encourage me, I tell them I’ll be running a christmas event after thanksgiving break, they say that’s awesome. That’s when I realized I’m going to need to make over 1200 abilities because each of the 40 classes needs 33 abilities. I asked them for any suggestions, got a grand total of 0. So I worked my ass off, far more than is healthy, and got... absolutely nowhere because there was no chance in the first place. Right before thanksgiving break I tell them ‘hey, there’s no chance of me finishing the whole system in time, we’ll use a simplified edition i’ll come up with now’ they gave approval. I made a whole mini-system on 3 hours of sleep. I went home for thanksgiving break and caused my whole family extra stress during their move by needing to make swords for this event. So the day of the event rolls around, I’ve got everything set up, I’m out of the field, waiting. The event starts at 11, and that’s when i get there. No one’s there. ‘That’s okay’ I figure, ‘they’re not exactly punctual, they’ll be here in 15-20 minutes’. They are not. At 11:30, E shows up, I ask him where the fuck everyone is. Turns out B is still asleep despite giving me confirmation she’d be here last night, D and the rest of the group are at breakfast and have no intention of showing up despite being 25 seconds away, and E doesn’t see anything wrong with this. I waited until noon, still no one, so I gave up and headed back to my dorm, I’d informed them on the discord that if no one showed up by noon I’d cancel. And I fucking seethed. These people didn’t give a single fuck about me, or my time, or my effort. And after a few hours of calming down, past the tears, past the attempts at breaking things, I got onto the discord server, and I told them, in no indirect terms, that repeatedly encouraging people to devote time and effort to projects for the group, to get them excited for their events, to say that you’ll be there, and then all ghost without a word was absolutely abusive and I didn’t want that in my life. Instead of even a single attempt at an apology, or even a bullshit excuse, they all started yelling at me and kicked me from the server, the club, and the friendgroup. So that’s where I am. I don’t give a single fuck about people who disrespect my time. I don’t give a single fuck about people who think that just because someone has bigger problems than me my problems don’t exist. I don’t give a single fuck about people who bail on plans without a warning or remorse. And I feel so free. So I’m turning all the effort on projects I was making for those toxic assholes inward, I’m making the shit I love, and if you don’t enjoy it, you don’t have to be around me or use my stuff. Sure the first few apprentice games and such will be free, and the proof-of-concept for anything will be free, but if I’ve put in serious effort? If i’ve put in 150 hours already (like on a certain larp system...) and it’s not even a tenth of the way done? You bet your left buttock that I’m not giving that away for free. If I’m going to make something I want to get something out of it. So there’s that. And just because I know I need help here, I do have some open positions: Sabrina needs a pilot, and that’s the fancy lore way of saying I desperately need an artist, because my art is shit and while I have no idea how to make UI-interactive games, I’m going to try my best to learn. Elluwen needs a pilot, and that’s still a fancy way of saying I need playtesters. I’ve been relying on my friend groups too much for this, posting a message about this new game I’ve got that’s nearly done, and waiting 2 weeks to get a single person to even try to play it. Meanwhile I’m playing it repeatedly to try to find bugs and their version is almost completely replaced. and several more... honestly to just put it clearly: I need reliable people in my life, and if that means setting up a patreon for people to see sneak peaks and be playtesters through, wonderful! If I can find an artist willing to be on call for my projects, and of course still pursue their own endeavors, I can’t afford a full-time artist, that’s amazing.

I know what you’re here for, at least on tuesday, you want the shitposts, I’ve still got those, but everything above is far more important.

This week’s themesong: Let The Flames Begin This week’s cryptic meme: Slowly ripping the limbs off an effigy This week’s mood: Focused Anger This week’s character: Lokeeda

Hey, here's my latest post over on my main blog:

In May each year, comic book shops around the world participate in a one day event called Free Comic Book Day. For me, this year was my eighth year of going into the city to take part, and the first time I’d been on my own.

Free Comic Book Day happens on the first Saturday in May each year, and comic book shops offer a selection of free comics to patrons, usually without even making a purchase! Often it’s accompanied by a bit of a festival or celebration which the stores throw to try and encourage visitors to lay down some cash, and get involved in the day in various ways, such as by dressing up (cosplaying), or getting a caricature drawn of themselves.

Like last year, I was feeling pretty disillusioned by the whole thing this year due to various factors: having been to so many now, and visiting comic book stores on a regular basis. Also, the lineup of free comics announced for this year didn’t really contain many that got me excited. So I wasn’t too enthusiastic about going, plus none of my friends were interested this year. So I took it easy, and decided to go in a bit later and get out earlier.

It’s also worth mentioning that since last FCBD, one of the four comic book stores in Melbourne’s CBD has closed down: Classic Comics. This was a pretty big shock when it was announced in mid-2018 and has left a pretty big impact in a number of ways. For one, Classic Comics was the most competitively priced of Melbourne’s comic book shops. It was a small, family run business and always had a good spread for FCBD. It will be missed.

So I headed into the city for just after 9am, knowing that it usually quietens down by around then, so I wouldn’t need to line up for too long. Boy, was I wrong.

Minotaur

As I arrived at about 9:20am, I could see people walking away with Minotaur bags full of comics. There was no one outside, but the line inside snaked through pretty much the whole store and seemed to move extremely slowly. It ended up taking just under an hour to reach the front of the line.

Minotaur’s setup was essentially the same as every other year. The first 30 people in line got a bundle of all of this year’s FCBD comics, and the first 150 got a goodie bag with their selection of comics. Each person could pick 5 comics from the available range, which seemed to include most comics on this year’s FCBD list, with family-friendly comics marked as such. However, on the board where they displayed all the free comics available, a few were missing this year. Initially I just assumed that those comics weren’t available, but I heard a woman after me ask about one of them, and it turned out that they were just in boxes still. This was especially disappointing as the missing comics seemed to all be indie titles, which many people wouldn’t realise weren’t there. Given one of the main purposes of FCBD is to promote the art, in all its variety and diversity to people who wouldn’t otherwise be exposed to it, this was a pretty unfortunate and disappointing occurrence.

Minotaur also had 15% off full price sale over the course of the day.

Comics-R-Us

After wandering around Minotaur for far too long, I decided to give Comics-R-Us a go, as they almost never have a long line. I got there just after 11am, and was through the line in 5 minutes or less.

Comics-R-Us too used their typical setup, where people pick the comics they want from a display board, with one staff member serving them, and another staff member picking the comics out and bagging them. This double-staff situation is mainly only necessary because there are so many comics with the same or similar names on the board that need clarification. This year, they had returned to letting people choose 3 comics each. The selection was dominated by older FCBD comics, along with various ‘true believer’ editions which are supposed to sell for a dollar, so it’s always nice to see them as an option.

It was noticeably subdued in Comics-R-Us, with less decorations or festivities than other years. I overheard one of the staff mention that this was a conscious decision, although I didn’t catch why, and they even recommended visiting All-Star Comics for their costume competition.

All-Star Comics

Although I didn’t actually visit All-Star Comics, this year was the first time I’d checked out their Artists Alley, which they put on each year on FCBD. And the name is fairly apt; it was literally an alley full of artists doing caricatures or drawing requests, and I think a few were signing art. Located in the alley inside 333 Collins, it was a bit cramped, with queues taking up all the walking space in spots. Although, it was good to be in an enclosed space, out of the rain and wind.

I also observed All-Star from the outside, and the line looked a little shorter than about the same time of day last year. It looked like they were using the same queueing system as last year too, with 3 phases of queue, although they seemed to be moving relatively quickly. I also saw they again employed the use of little flyers listing all the comics on offer, so people could make their decision while in the line. I like this system, and it has interesting ramifications for the other comic book shops around the city. Once someone has visited All-Star, they have a list of comics they want and that should be available. In theory, this allows these people to move through the other stores more quickly and decisively as well. When a store’s offerings differ from this, this difference is made obvious, for better or worse.

In the end, I managed to pick up 9 new comics, with no duplicates this year. However, of the 6 or so comics I was interested in, I only picked up 4.

If you want to see what I thought of the comics I grabbed, or other comics I read, you can follow along on the League of Comic Geeks or on Goodreads.

As I’ve said many times before, I highly recommend visiting a few comic book shops on Free Comic Book Day. It’s a fun time, and you end up with free comics! What more could you want!

To Infinity and Beyond, Nitemice

Got tagged by @kikabennet! 

when did you last sing to yourself?

Yesterday, since I’ve currently been awake for an hour and a half. Might have been either “Bonnie Portmore” or “Here’s a Health (To The Company)”. I’ve been putting a lot of shanties and pirates/sailing-related films soundtracks on to draw to (and hopefully write to) lately. (EDIT: Ooops - yep, wrote that yesterday around 11AM, so make that this afternoon; I hummed while I drew along with the first 3 Pirates of the Caribbean soundtracks. It’s so darn hummable.)

if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know?

Who was the Man in the Iron Mask!? (I know better than to ask personal/family truths :S Besides, I’m curious.)

(putting the rest under a cut...)

what is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

Being able to speak (mostly) and read/write English fluently.

what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?

When my mum was in the hospital with my newborn baby sister, my dad would take me see them, and before that we’d stop for ice cream and a ride on the merry-go-round. That’s what comes to mind when I read “first happy memory”.

if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?

I’d go see my family and friends who live far away a lot more, and eat a lot more of my favourite things.

do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?

I don’t, really ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

describe a person close to your life in detail

The Best Beloved is tallish (1,77m - that’s… 5′10?), with dark brown hair, green eyes, skin that tans easily even in winter, and glasses. …and that’s as much detail as I’m comfortable putting.

do you feel you had a happy childhood?

On the whole, yes. Could’ve done without the bullying at school and the undermining of self-confidence at home, though.

when did you last cry in front of another person?

Don’t remember, so it must be at least a fortnight.

pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them

My dad, who used to sail with a compass. I don’t think he knows much about constellations, but he’s always willing to share memories, even if sometimes he doesn’t remember he’s told them multiple times.

would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?

Probably. I shouldn’t, though. Strangers being by definition strangers, you never know where that information is going and how it might be used (possibly against you).

when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?

We both were tired and ended up going to bed around half past midnight, so no 3AM conversation, but my friend Sandrine last week.

if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom?

…I have no idea? I think I’d concentrate really hard on not dying :S

what is your opinion on brown eyes?

Why would it matter tho I have brown eyes and for the longest time I thought they were boring. It doesn’t help that brown hair and eyes are basically the default where I grew up/live. Then I grew up and moved on.

pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally

George Bernard Shaw’s “Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh.” Life is complicated, all about balance between extremes and absolutes. Don’t trust people who tell you the world is grim and serious just because they are. And while getting the giggles at a funeral/wake is inappropriate, it doesn’t mean you’re heartless.

what would you title the autobiography of your life so far?

Wait, What

what would you do with one billion dollars?

I’d keep half a dozen millions for me (car and house debts), my family and my friends, and give the rest to social services, healthcare, and public services in general.

are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?

Ehhh… It’s complicated. I tend to hold grudges when I can remember why, but I rarely do something about it. On the whole I’m pretty “live and let live”.

would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?

Neither, really. I’m too soft for punk, but pastel’s not really my thing either.

how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain

I’m too much of a wuss to even consider getting either, but they look great on other people. When I get a spot on my tongue I wonder how people with a tongue piercing manage to keep it, though. It’s very distracting.

do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?

As a rule, no, but if I work or if I’m invited somewhere I’ll throw on a bit of eyeliner and lipstick. (I should raid my makeup drawer, really, some of my lipstick cases are almost 20 years old and you should NOT do that.)

talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way

In high school I saw a psychologist (junior high was NOT a happy time and the bad stuff just overflowed at one point) and went to an outpatient clinic every Wednesday. They had lots of activities, like painting on silk, various art stuff, and a band, and I loved that band. I was one of the only ones who’d request songs to sing in English. The guitarist introduced me to the Beatles’ “Something”, which I didn’t know, and to this day when I hear this lovely song I think of that guy who had a great smile, a great sense of humour and a great moustache (think George Harrison on Let It Be) who helped me get better.

list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel

Not to brag, but back in my uni days I did go to a number of them - K’s Choice, Coldplay, King Khan And His Shrines, M, Tom McRae are among the ones I remember. And a couple months ago I went to a rock concert with three bands one after the other. I love live music, it feels amazing. It courses through my body, makes me grin like a maniac, and want to jump and flail around just to vent the excess energy. And all this without a single drop of beer! (can’t stand the stuff :P)

who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?

I’d love a letter from the national loto that says “here’s a giant check even though you haven’t scratched a ticket in years” :P More seriously, I LOVE receiving letters from my Internet friends.

do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised?

I don’t really have a workspace. I have a desk, which has the desktop screen, keyboard, mouse/graphic tablet, and a whole lot of mess of papers, pens, boxes, and stuff. I can use either that desk or my laptop in my armchair.

what is your night time routine?

Finish watching the movie/tv show, look at Tumblr a bit (and/or stuff on the laptop, like TV Tropes), go to bed, read a bit on my Kindle, kiss the Best Beloved good night, switch off the lights, and try to sleep.

what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?

Anything about my intimate life, thanks.

if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?

I experimented a bit with henna back in the day, but generally I just have haircuts (I have too little hair to risk harming it). I’d like some reddish highlights one day, though.

pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?

Eehhh... I’d rather stay at home and chill :P Okay, I’d take the Best Beloved and my friends Melody, Nico, Sandrine, and Aldric, and head to Marquèze. (wish their website had an English version, it’d be better.) It’s an ecomuseum about local life in the early 1800s/early 1900s, with preserved traditional houses and people showing skills like dyeing fabric, shepherding, making flour (there’s a watermill) and all sorts of cakes and bread and snacks, and an entire day isn’t too much to visit everything.

name three wishes and why you wish for them

I wish:

I had a decently-paying job from home,

my friend Sandrine’s mum were/will be all right (don’t ask),

we had the house extension built already

what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up

We didn’t have Halloween when I was growing up, it really only started to be a thing in earnest a decade or two ago. Although... One time when we lived in Bordeaux, the Best Beloved and I were invited to a housewarming party on Halloween, so people would wear costumes. I went as a witch, with a long black skirt, long-sleeve thing with black lace (-ish), long black and white wig, and of course black lipstick and lots of black around the eyes. The Best Beloved had made a cloak, a scythe of sorts with cardboard and foil, and had a scary death head mask on. We didn’t have a car and the friend lived in Saint-Médard (which is relevant), so we had to ask around the bus drivers for which bus went there.

So picture the two of us dressed as we were, mask and all, well after dark, asking around for the “S&M” bus. Yep :P (People stared at us during the ride, and unlike the Best Beloved, I didn’t have the luxury of a mask to hide my laughter...)

what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high?

The only time I got slightly tipsy I went a little pink and apparently talked a little louder than usual. I’ve never got drunk (too afraid of stomachache later) or high (it took my mum two heart attacks to quit smoking and I’m wondering if she hasn’t taken it up again, I can’t hold a cigarette, tobacco or otherwise).

what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars?

Hurt people, probably. If I wouldn’t do it for ten dollars I wouldn’t do it for a million - if you agree to one or the other the rest is just haggling over price.

if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair?

I don’t think I have the right face shape for that - my face is too round, longer hair suits me better.

what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone?

I live 126 km (78 miles) from the nearest Starbucks, when I walk by one the queue is huge, and the prices are well beyond my range :> But I’d trust the Best Beloved. He’d still ask me, though.

what is the most important thing to you in your life right now?

Being happy and/or stress-free. Also the oncoming Papa Bear Awards nominations in a week and the Eurovision Song Context coming up in May :D

Tagging @radarsteddybear, @rose-of-pollux, @truxi-twice, @myrling-art, @iorvethscommando, and @toooldforthisbutstill! :o)

Goals for the New Year (2019 edition!)

Looking back at last year's journal I was pretty unfocused about my goals |D I think I had a vague idea of essentially wanting to share more of my OCs, wanting to post more, and wanting to make more time to interact with folks and draw. This year I've got a lot more substance to what I want, er, maybe a little too much? Let's review 2018 and then my new goals ;v;

What I did accomplish:

I ended up starting to make character reference sheets as a start to sharing my OCs, which wasn't a bad way to go <: This year I'd like to continue that trend for sure! It's helping me nail down appearances for some characters that have only been strictly written before, and finalizing/updating appearances for characters that I've drawn for a long time. I initially started with really clean references and then moved into more sketchy ones for the sake of saving time, and I'll probably continue to do that for most of my characters and side projects, minus the really important ones (I intend to give Rock, Cale, and Vox clean refs, for example). I also managed to post at least once every month here which was a goal of mine last year, and I'm very proud of myself for that

It seems like such a small amount of times to upload art (a minimum of 12 times all year) but it's a goal that seemed challenging with my lack of free time.

I am still working on making more time to draw and be social. The job I started at the beginning of last year really dug into my time and energy, and I ended up springing for a new one during the holidays. I've been told that somewhere probably from mid to late January (or maybe early February depending on how long it takes to train new folks) I'll be able to have less hours on my plate. This is a big deal because art is what I want to do most, and with more people slowly offering to commission me, I desperately want to have the time to do said commissions. I have turned down several friends and clients when asked (or not responded because I was unsure how to explain myself), purely because I didn't feel I could do even a single image in a timely manner, and I didn't want them waiting months for something they paid for. Fingers crossed this will be changing soon!

But that rolls into more things I did do! I took way more commissions last year than I have before, and I have a small steady queue of folks who would like more that I want to get back to! I also tried some YCHs and adopts and had some success there as well ;v; It was a goal of mine to really work at that stuff and even if it's a small amount compared to other artists, I'm really excited about it!

I also had my first ever convention table! My fiancee Cristal ( @hellscythearts ) and I got to sell our prints at an anime/geek convention and that was a dream come true! I've wanted to do that ever since attending my very first convention when I was really young. I also got a lot of practice in with clean line art and cell shading, which are two things I've always wanted to get better at, but had no confidence in ;v; and this year I really liked a lot of my pieces, enough to sell them as prints even!

What I didn't do:

I didn't end up sharing as much about my characters as I wanted to, or starting any big projects (curse you anxiety and time management!). While I did start making references for a lot of them (and their alternate universe variations because we have way too many AU versions hanging around), I didn't actually finish all of the references I wanted to. I also haven't actually TALKED about them that much outside of those posts.

There haven't been a lot of written snippets with large illustrations, or drabbles/plain writing shared. I also only did a handful of small comics when I'd hoped to do more to showcase their personalities. I do like the ones I did, I just want to do more! I'm still nervous to go in depth with many of them, even if their appearances are appealing I worry about their characterization or stories being uninteresting ;v; but I need to remind myself that I like writing them, and that should be the most important part. It's just a bonus if you guys end up liking them too!

I also didn't end up with a job that gave me more time but WE'LL SEE ABOUT THIS NEWEST ONE NOW THAT THE HOLIDAYS ARE WINDING DOWN.

What I want to do:

Okay, I have a lot of different ideas for what I'd like to work on this year. I'm going to lay out WAY TOO MANY GOALS, with the understanding to myself that I don't need to accomplish all of them. Even just one is okay. Please remind me of that too if I get too down on myself and my progress ;v; I want to do a lot but I need to take it easy on myself when it comes to productivity and output just because art isn't my main occupation yet. These goals are not listed in any particular order or priority!

Keep making references! There are lots of characters I didn't get to yet, and I want to at least get to the "main" ones and their original versions. Other sketchy AU refs are a bonus.

ACTUALLY SHARE PARTS OF MY OC'S STORIES AND MORE ABOUT THEM. This could be comics, drabbles, journal memes, or written snippets with art. It doesn't matter, make me post about my OCsand not just leave cool doodles and no information. I want you guys to start getting to know them like I know them.

COMICS. I want to start making comics. Both one off comics about my characters like I did in 2018, but also more structured ones. Cristal and I have so much writing done, and a few character stories that are basically finished, so no more excuses not to get drawing on at least one of those ones!

More Youtube: I have two different ideas about this. Last year I posted one speedpaint video almost every month, excluding November and December (although I did three in October so???) I want to try and keep that momentum. But I also want to try my hand at some other things-- specifically small animations. These would be pretty non-serious stuff, and mostly a lot of memes that fit my OCs, or maybe small 10-30 second scenes with music. So every month if I can, I'd like to post EITHER A SPEEDPAINT OR SHOT ANIMATION (with or without audio).

Attend more conventions! We've signed up for some so this is really just not to get discouraged and to keep signing up as more open. I know we won't get into all of them but I want to try to start doing it more regularly, being a part time convention artist is really appealing to me. Our first time was honestly like being paid to be on vacation and it was super good for my anxiety and stress issues.

Keep accepting commissions: It would be cool if I could take more of them this year, but I'd at least like to keep doing them at all. For the tail end of last year my momentum really died down and I stopped taking almost any. I'm not sure what a realistic goal/number here would be, so I'm sort of stuck on -take them at all- right now.

Continue posting art at least once a month to dA/twitter/tumblr! My standards with this goal are pretty loose. Big illustrations would be the ideal, but comics and references or weird experimental art are also a-okay. I want to stay lax about this.

Again, I don't need to do all of these goals. Heck I could probably rotate them a little through the year. These are just all the things I'd like to work on. Drawing and writing and animating are like, the things I've always wanted to do with my life, and I keep being afraid to put myself out there more. It can be hard to balance work with this (at the moment I'm doing A LOT OF OVERTIME), but it's ultimately what would make me the most happy. I want to be financially stable, but still be creatively fulfilled. Ideally I think working part time and then taking commissions/doing conventions/comics is where I want to shoot for, so we'll see what the year brings ;v;  

Now!!! Tell me about YOUR goals. What do you want to do this year creatively? How do you want to improve your art/writing? What about none art related things? How did you do with last year? Did you make progress? Did you find something new you're passionate about/interested in? What about non-art goals?

@thefevertrope said:

Here's a prompt, not super good at them so I hope it's okay! The gang goes back to the space mall (reason being of your choosing), but part way through Lance begins to feel really pretty bad, everyone is split up, and Lance accidentally falls asleep in one of the stores he isn't supposed too, queue security, and the rest of the team ends up having to break him out, only to realize how bad of a fever he has.

This one was super fun too! I kind of took a few liberties and made it a kind of different trouble. I hope you like it! Its a little long at 3711 words. I fully intend it as a one-shot too (but if anyone wanted to work off it go for it). I know the ending is kind of, like, leaving it open. I just felt bad sitting on it for so long- I had some trouble with netflix when i kept going to check out some stuff from the mall episode.

I do apologise too for any errors, Its late and I haven’t edited, so if you see any please shoot me a message and let me know and I’ll fix them up.

quinteb= made up alien word for “brat” sort of. kinda like how quiznak is kind of “fuck”/”damn it”

Space Mall, Take 2 

 “I don’t know why you even brought the cow back with you in the first place,” Keith sighed.

“What do you not understand about ‘it was free with purchase’. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you,” Pidge had their arms crossed and was kicking the back of the seat in front of them. “We better get that adapter while we’re here.”

“Okay, first we are returning the cow. Second, you two are apologising for raiding the coin fountain,” Shiro pointed towards Lance and Pidge. “Third, we need to figure out how to earn some GAC, unfortunately. And no. Not from the fountain. We’re paladins. Find some quick work, unfortunately the Galra have too tight a control on many planets. And if we want to help them, and supply ourselves, we need to be able to keep our presence under the radar sometimes. I know, it sounds less than ideal, but sometimes it’s more dangerous to start a revolution. Not to mention we’ll burn out if we do it every time.”

“You need to stay away from that knife shop,” Shiro jabbed his finger towards Keith before turning to point at Hunk. “No more trouble, Keith. Hunk, I need you to go see if you can strike up a deal with Sal. Maybe take Keith with you, its far enough away. I don’t know if that guy would remember your face, but he sounded way too interested in your knife for me to be comfortable. And Hunk could probably get this guy to vouch for you, after hearing the story.”

“Ok, and? What do we do after we take back the cow, make Lance sing for coins?” Pidge raised their eyebrows.

“Offer to sweep stores, see if theres a contest with a cash prize somewhere. If you wan’t the adapter, you need to earn the GAC, like I said, we’re trying to earn it so we can do things like this more easily, more covert. No more cows. No more security chasing you out.” Shiro prodded the screen, double checking their progress. “We’re almost there now. I’m going to go apologise to security. Despite everything Coran said, this could be a good stop for us, to learn new information and pick up necessities. Better to not draw unwanted attention.”

“Okay, Shiro, I hear you. But wouldn’t walking right up to Galra security be a little… maybe just a teeny bit… the opposite of what you’re saying?” Hunk, proudly sitting shotgun, looked over to Shiro.

“I think its reasonable. It was about a week ago this all happened, on Earth you’d get a mall ban. If I go in and explain that it was ‘kids being kids’ and how ‘sorry’ you all are, we might be able to use this to our advantage, right under the Galra’s noses.”

“That’s kind of badass,” Pidge stopped kicking the back of Shiro’s chair for a second, “Its kind of great, actually. We’re kicking their butts and they can’t even find us in their own territory!” Pidge cackled to themselves for a second.

“Exactly.”

 ---------------

 “Shiro, do we really have to take the cow back?” Lance was patting the cow, pouting up at Shiro.

“Lance, we can’t realistically keep it,” Keith snapped.

“Even though its cute?”

“Lance, you need to take it back. Its not fair to the cow, we have nowhere for it to live,” Shiro unconsciously stepped between Keith and Lance to diffuse the situation before it escalated. “Come on, guys. Go on.”

With some grumbling, everyone dispersed. Keith hung back for a second, staring at Shiro, before following Hunk.

“I can’t believe he was serious,” Hunk surprised Keith by saying it first. “I mean, I am super excited- don’t get me wrong. I just can’t believe it. It was actually pretty cool to work at Sal’s, up until that security guy showed up-“

“Hunk.”

“It was kind of awesome, to sort of, forget for like an hour that we’re supposed to be- well, you know.”

“…” Keith was taken aback by how honest Hunk was, and how it was surprisingly sad. “Yeah. I guess, you’d probably be doing something like that while on a break from the Garrison, right?”

“Yeah,” Hunk smiled a little, “Actually, I kind of helped out one of my uncles once at his restaurant….”

 ------------

 “Do you think theres an arcade?” Pidge looked around the mall, trying to find the Earth store. “Do you think we could try hustling pool? I think we could pull it off. You kind of make people want to talk to you, or hit you. Lance?”

Lance was just pulling the cow along, looking around for himself.

“Lance! Hello? Are you ignoring me on purpose?”

“Huh? Sorry, spaced out.” Lance blinked and shook his head a little. He wasn’t feeling his best, but Shiro wouldn’t take no for an answer. Coran and Allura were going to be busy readjusting the warp drive again, and it was ‘strongly suggested’ that they go out for the next several vargas. “Sure, we can try that. I know a little bit about pool, though I’m better at skee ball.”

“People don’t bet on skee ball. I’ll be the cinch for it, anyway.” Lance quirked a brow as he stared at Pidge, “Look, before I met you and Hunk at the Garrison, I didn’t really have a lot of patience to try and make friends. I had to do something.”

 --------------

 “Hello?” Shiro knocked at the door to the security office. The maps had pointed him in the right direction, and he took a steeling breath.

“What?” The door opened, revealing the rather short Galra guard. Shiro kept his face carefully schooled, “Something to report? Lost and found is dealt with by the information centre.”

“Um, actually, I am here to apologize for my… siblings.” Shiro swallowed, “They came by… earlier. And caused a little havoc. We’re new to the area, and they dealt with the changes poorly.”

“Your siblings?” The guard narrowed his eyes, “Well, I’m busy. It’s a big mall. I’m not going to remember everything. And besides, kids aren’t on my radar, we’ve had pirate issues in the past and I’d-“

“They, um, thought it would be funny to dress as pirates. And from my understanding, caused quite a scene. I do apologize.” Shiro felt a cold sweat break out on his neck. This seemed like a terrible idea, the guard wasn’t responding how he had hoped.

“Are they back?” The guard shouted, startling Shiro into a slight jump. He calmed his initial reaction, stopping with his hands up, gloved palms facing the guard. It was still scratching in the back of his mind, this was trouble, this needed to end, he needed to run. He stilled his shaking.

“They came back, with me, to work to make up for the trouble they caused.”

“That’s… Responsible. I can accept that.” The guard backed off, and the alarms in Shiro’s head eased just a bit. He leaned forward with one last burst of aggression, “I’m keeping my eye on them. One more incident and I’m banning all of you. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Shiro took a step back and felt surprise break over him, this just might work. “I’ll make sure they work hard.”

 -------------

 “He’s a hard worker,” Hunk was nearly pleading with Sal, “Really knows his way around a knife.”

“I’m not cluttering up my kitchen.” The man was large and rather intimidating. His had his arms crossed and a snarl on his face.

“Oh, oh I’m sorry, your kitchen?” Keith smacked his hand to his face. “Your kitchen was a disaster. Your employee died in your kitchen and you strapped me to it, and I laboured and made you what you are now. Are you even still following my instructions? Have you gone all Kitchen Nightmares on me, and took the good I gave you and thrown it out behind my back?”

“What I do in my kitchen is my own business.” The man leaned forward, jaw jutting forward and chewing on a crumpled straw.

“Unless you’re doing it right, it’s a business doomed to fail.”

“Huh,” Sal, the huge intimidating guy wielding a knife while Hunk felt the need to get all up in his grill and kitchen quite literally, leaned back and barked out a laugh. “There you go, that’s how you veil a threat, kid. Not bad.”

“What the fuck did you manage to get up to in one, single, varga?” Keith asked from behind his hands.

“Who’s this schmuck again? Some friend, knows knives. Can he cook. Why’d you come back anyway, thought you were on the run.”

“We were, but now its all like, community service this, make up for the hassle that.” Hunk waved his hand dismissively. “You think I was trouble, this guy really pissed off one of those fancy sword shops upstairs. He’s not allowed anywhere without someone now.”

“Shut up,” Keith slapped his arm, “Its not that bad. You all act like I’m going to go buy an arms ship if you turn your back on me or something.”

“Would you?”

“… Just shut up and show me how to make this tuber paste.”

 ----------

 “That was surprisingly easy, I thought the guy would have been all offended we were returning the free gift,” Pidge looked back over their shoulder at the store.

“Yeah who would have thought the guy wanted it back,” Lance tucked his hands in his pocket, he was shaking no matter how hard he tried to hold back on shivering. “He seemed a little relieved. I mean, he did give you that.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised. Guess he grew attached,” Pidge tossed the small brick they held in the air, “Still, our gain! We can finally play Killbot Phantasm.”

“Yeah, that’ll be pretty cool,” Lance answered on autopilot, “Think Shiro still wants us to try and earn some GAC?”

“Ugh, probably. Pool?”

“Sure, sounds easy.”

 ----------------------------------

“Pay up, nerds,” Pidge held out their hand, waiting for the other two to hand over the GAC. “We agreed. I get the 80 tickets for that duck, too.”

“Nah. It was kind of a weak game, honestly. Don’t want to pay you now.”

“No way,” Pidge shook their head, “I won, fair and square, and I even sunk them all in order.”

“Nah, we said nah,” The taller alien with 4 arms shoved Pidge. They were knocked back into the table. “You’re not hustling us, quinteb.”

“Lance-“ Pidge turned to make sure Lance was on his way. He was still sitting across the arcade, where they agreed he’d sit to make sure nobody tried anything funny. He was asleep. Pidge felt a jolt of panic, “Lance!”

“Stop crying for your guardian,” The alien shoved Pidge again, “Shut up, okay. Don’t make a fuss.” They backed off, not really wanting to fight, it seemed. The two alien’s walked away, laughing together.

“Assholes!” Pidge yelled after them before whirling and stomping towards Lance. “Lance!”

Lance startled and fell out of his chair. He shook his head, bringing his hand up to cover his eyes. The quick movement made the world spin, and the arcade’s bright lights were dancing all over his vision. It was disorienting and made his head throb.

“What the hell! You were supposed to be watching,” Pidge was red with fury, and their eyes were watering ever so slightly. “What if they didn’t walk away!”

“What if who didn’t what?”

“I can’t believe you right now!” Pidge was starting to cause a scene, “They backed out on our game, and you were asleep, and things could have gone really badly and you just-! You just decided to have a nap!”

“I’m-“ Lance was having trouble following. The girl behind the prize counter was walking over now, looking less than impressed. Did he do something? Shit, the last thing he remembered was making a deal with Pidge to sit back and make sure nothing went wrong, since he was feeling so crummy.

“Excuse me,” the counter girl broke in, cutting off another tirade from Pidge, “You need to quiet down, little kids play here. I don’t want to make you leave, but you need to chill out.”

“Oh! So those guys can shove me over a game, but I can’t be mad about it!”

“Pidge, you need to calm down, okay. I’m sorry.” Lance stood up, none to steady, and put his hand on Pidge’s shoulder. It was as much to steady himself as to calm them down. Pidge shrugged him off, and he lost his balance.

“You know what, on second thought, you two need to go.” The employee crossed her arms, “Like, now.”

“Fine!” Pidge huffed and grabbed Lance’s hand to pull him up.

“Han’on” Lance slurred, it was too fast. He felt the room spin again, but he wasn’t on his ass on the floor already, so it was even more disorienting. “Pidge, hann’n-“ Lance’s vision was totally blacked out and he felt the blood drain from his face right before he dropped.

 ------------------

 Shiro had walked around a bit, and found some information on different colonies that might come in handy. Other places they could maybe trade physical labour for supplies, on the down low. A lot more places where the technology had adapted to be more like some of the cities on Earth.  

It was a lot harder to find something he could do for a few hours in this mall though. Most shops and stalls were staffed by disinterested twenty-somethings or teenagers. He got a lot of ‘let me call my manager’ type answers. And, he really wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He had basically gone right from graduating at the Garrison, to working there, to Kerebos, to… everything that happened, and then he found himself here.

He was just checking one of the maps again, trying to figure out if anyone else maybe had better luck than he had. Then he heard the mall scooter, and a newly familiar voice shouting. He spun on his heel and spotted the mall cop puttering off to some neon lit storefront, and he took off running.

The chances were slim, but trouble always seemed to follow them, so he wouldn’t be surprised.

 ------------------------

 “What happened?” The Galra guard climbed off his scooter. At his feet were the two pirate children, and the arcade employee was standing there wringing her hands.

“He-“ The one spoke, “He just dropped.” Pidge was sitting on the floor beside Lance, hand still hoolding his from when they tried to pull him up earlier.

“Pidge!” Shiro’s voice cut across the arcade. The music was quieted, and the lights had been turned on after the counter girl hit the silent alarm to get help. “Pidge, whats going on?”

“Shiro, he just, he just fell. He won’t wake up.” Pidge deflated as soon as Lance went limp and was shaken with the immediate loss of their anger.

“Hey, Lance,” Shiro brushed Lance’s bangs back, he could feel warmth through his gloves. “Come on, time to open your eyes. Can you go grab Hunk and Keith, Pidge? I think we need to head back...” Pidge just sat there for a moment under Shiro’s gaze.

“I-“ They swallowed uncomfortably, “I yelled at him.”

“Its ok, I kind of want to yell at him too, right now. He’s burning up, but right now we need to get him back to bed, okay?”

“Yeah.” Pidge stood up and brushed off their knees, “Yeah, you’re right.” They swiped their hand under their nose. It was scary to see someone dead faint for the first time, but the shock of it was wearing off a little.

 ------------------------

 “Here you go!” Sal served another customer with a huge smile. Things were going twice as fast as the last time now that Hunk was back and brought help. The two of them seemed to be able to read each other’s minds, it seemed to him.

“Another one up, Sal!” Hunk slip another plate across the metal counter. “Hey, Keith, prepped those cuts of meat yet? Got a handful of orders for those.”

“Yeah.” Keith nodded the affirmative. He turned back to the ingredients he was preparing, and to Sal’s prep employee. He was demonstrating how Hunk needed everything prepared for this new dish, one of the team’s favorites back at the castle. It was a little rough, they basically had to go it in silence with some gestures since neither of them spoke the other’s language.

“Awesome. Okay, now you guys need to pay real close attention here. You want to make the flavours sing just right,” he sprinkled on some shredded tree fruit, “It takes a gentle hand and this stuff is really potent. You can’t over do it or it’ll overpower the spice underneath.”

Across the food court, Pidge was coming through at a sprint. Hunk caught the flash of their hair and green sweater and perked up to see what was going on.

“Hunk! Keith! We gotta go!” Pidge was panting, and slammed into the order counter with full, bruising, force.

“What happened?” Hunk vaulted the counter before he even got the words out, and Keith was right behind him.

“Something’s wrong with Lance, we gotta go.”

“Sorry Sal, you got a new recipe, master that before I come back, got it?” Hunk put his fist up, and Sal bumped Hunk’s with his own. He did the same to Keith as the other boy passed by too. “Get it perfect, otherwise I’m letting this guy take his liberties with your kitchen sets.”

“You better come back, I ain’t messing around, kid.” Hunk gave a wave as he followed Pidge away.

 -----------------------

 “Hnn,” Lance stirred, finally, “Hold on, feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

“You kind of already did,” Shiro had his hand on Lance’s shoulder to keep him laying down. “Take a minute. You okay?”

“I’m,” Lance paused. Shiro was the one talking. Where was Pidge? Did he really pass out? “What happened?”

“Looks like you fainted from that fever. Why didn’t you tell someone?” Lance looked up and saw Shiro’s face swimming above his. He blinked a few time, bringing the other paladin into focus.

“Didn’t feel so bad til we got here.” He felt drained. “Didn’t realize it’d be so long.”

“Well, I’m cutting it short now, we’re gonna head back.” Shiro moved his hand to start to shift Lance to sitting, slowly. Lance stretched, feeling sore and sick down to his bones. Shiro held him still for a moment. “Thanks for calling for help for him.”

Lance looked up to see the counter girl, she looked much more relieved. Just to her left was the Galra mall cop, and Lance nearly startled seeing him. He jolted slightly, and it brought back that sickening wave where he wasn’t sure if he’d throw up or pass out and his vision swam for half a tick again before settling.

“You doing okay? I want to carry you out, but I need to make sure you’re going to be able to hold on to me first.” Lance nodded a little numbly, still feeling that wave recede. “I need to hear your answer, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute, ‘m okay in a minute.” Shiro gave him a few minutes, he waited until Lance started moving of his own accord. Surprisingly, the Galra security guard helped get Lance situated on Shiro’s back. Shiro just stepped into the main hall again when the other three paladins ran up to join them.

 --------------------

 “103.7,” Shiro blinked in surprise, “Jeeze, you really were feeling fine before we left?” Lance nodded from the bed.

“Yeah, just a headache. ‘N then in the ship I started getting cold, but thought it’d be okay.”

“Well, take it easy. Rest up.” Shiro patted Lance’s chest. He left the boy under a pile of blankets and went into the hall outside his door. He shook his head, they’d have to be more careful about things. He thought on maybe having Allura start them on that ‘open-ness’ training again.

“Shiro…” He turned, Pidge was standing behind him.

“Hey Pidge, Lance’ll be okay. Heck of a fever, but he’ll bounce back. I think he still feels bad for falling asleep on you like that.”

“That’s good…” Pidge nodded. Something seemed a little off.

“Everything… okay?” Shiro started walking towards the common area where they had all separated.

“Mhmm,” Pidge looked a little out of it, “Uh. Keith said he wasn’t feeling right. So they asked me to come get you. Just in case.”

“Oh?” Shiro felt a little spark of worry start up.

“Yeah.” Pidge rubbed at their eyes, they seemed a little pale. Oh, quiznak.

“Come here for a tick,” Shiro turned, and Pidge blinked up at him. He placed his palm on their forehead. Two down. “You’re warm, feeling okay?”

“Keith said he felt sick.”

“And I think you’re sick too. Go on, bed.” Great, the mall was some sort of vector for disease. “I’ll go check on him.”

 Shiro ended up walking back to the common area with Pidge still trailing him. Keith was sitting on the couch with his head lowered between his knees, and Hunk was rubbing his back. Shiro ran his hand through his hair.

“He’s alright, just lightheaded,” Hunk answered. Shiro was glad he seemed to be okay. He sighed.

“Well, I guess we’re all taking it easy now.” Shiro shook his head, he hoped these two were just overcome with the excitement of the day, but felt like he’d end up with Lance demanding a movie day where they’d all sit on the couch in a shivering pile of misery. “Looks like we’re in for a fun week.”

Hunk gave a broken laugh.