Well, I think I've got a goodly amount of dirty filthy porn getting posted. So before anything else, I'm gonna update this nice, sweet, romantic OUAT story, just for everyone who doesn't like stories about rimming. Have some spooning: Secretly, Regina loved it when Henry crawled into bed with her. As ridiculous as it was, her mind leapt to the thought of a liquid pillow that held to her instead of the other way around. Seeking her power, curling up into her arms so tight it was like he wanted to burrow into her, use her as a shield against the night. Well, Regina’s armor had been used for worse things. Sleepily, Regina put her arms around the soft little bundle of warmth that’d lunged against her. He was getting big, but he still had the absolute need for that he’d shown as an infant. He’d woken her up plenty of nights, screaming in his crib, but always calmed right down as soon as she picked him up. She didn’t even mind having her sleep disturbed; not when she felt the absolute trust of him. The certainty that she wouldn’t set anything on fire, turn something to poison. It was almost frightening, that trust. Hard to live up to. But she had for years before Henry came into her life and she had for years after. No one ever appreciated that. How she’d been satisfied with her vengeance. She’d set a sentence for the people’s crimes against her, it’d been fair and just, and she’d carried it out without excess or sadism. Her right as ruler. Not that anyone but her would care about so pedantic a thing, but oh well. She knew she was right. She reached between Henry’s shoulder blades to rub at his spine, letting him know he was safe and guarded, and felt soft bands of hair where there should’ve been just pajamas. Regina’s hazy eyes blinked a little wider open. It wasn’t Henry. It was his birth mother. Emma had finagled her way into Regina’s arms, just as her son so often did. Seeking the same thing. Her warmth, her comfort in the nightmarish dark. Regina actually stopped herself from waking her. She was so used to the sight of Emma with furrowed brow, big confused eyes or angry, narrow vision. Her mouth set in a grimace, her smile ever so slightly wounded, everything defensive, a poker player’s game-face. In her arms, Regina could see Emma’s resemblance to her mother. A certain peacefulness. A serenity that Regina hadn’t exactly yearned for, but had on occasion been… curious about. Was it the natural state of the Snow women? Something in Emma that had been cut out of her by Regina’s actions, but that was now regrowing? Regina reached over and stole Emma’s pillow. It wasn’t like she’d be needing it, with her head tucked under Regina’s arm. This was what came of buying such an exquisitely tasteful nightgown. Even someone of Emma’s stature found herself drawn to it.