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soramei · 3 years ago

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Intentional - Part 1

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut,

Word Count: 7.3k

Masterlist

A/N: hey yall this is my first ff im posting on tumblr :D im kinda scared to post but i hope anybody who stumbles on lil ol’ me will join me along the way :) also important!!! i made oc/reader asian cus i am lol (and this whole thing is basically a glorified self insert) so plz keep this in mind when reading!! oh god i didnt realize how slow this first part was sry...

The cold silence of the room felt like stabs at your inside. You commanded your feet to stop bouncing up and down as you unconsciously started to bite off the dead skin of your bottom lip. The white corporate light from above reflected off your brand new lanyard hanging delicately from your neck. You felt the coarse blue fabric rub against your neck as you mindlessly fiddled with your lanyard; the newly printed photo of your face stared back at you with a smile.

The creak of the door to your left was what broke you from your nervous fidgets. Whipping your head up from your lanyard, you immediately stood up ready to bow to whoever came through that door.

It was a girl. She looked around the same age as you, if not older. Her attire was what gave her away. Her appearance essentially mirrored yours: hair tied back into a ponytail with a white blouse and black work pants. She also had the familiar blue ‘JYPE’ labeled strap hanging from her neck.

“Hello,” you spoke meekly, scared to disturb the cold silence that had a hold on the room you were in.

“Hello,” she replied. “My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern and today is my first day.”

This is so relieving, you thought, another newbie to share the stress with me.

“This is my first day too,” you perked up, “I’ll be starting as the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.”

Getting the acceptance email from JYP Entertainment was definitely a high point in your life. The feeling of butterflies swarming your insides as you clicked the email open only to see your acceptance was immediately locked as a core memory. All the years of memorizing thousands of Korean and English vocabulary flashcards, the panic attacks before your finance exams, and the many, many late night coffee breaks were worth it the moment you received your first legitimate job offer, and from the esteemed JYP Entertainment company no less.

“Chinese marketing?” Na-eun asked. “So you aren’t from here, I take it.”

You shook your head. “I am from China. I completed my degree a while ago with a major in Language and a minor in Business. To be honest, I’ve done internships back home, but it’s been my dream to move to a new country.”

All of what you said was true. Up until now, your surroundings have never changed in all of your twenty-three years living. From the walk with your grandmother to daycare to the vast campus of your university, the view of your city has never changed. Your social circle stayed stagnant since you were able to talk and your love life was — for a lack of a better word — uneventful.

It wasn’t until the day you decided to start applying for careers outside your home country that you felt hopeful. Hopeful that you could find an escape from your inert lifestyle and escape the burnout and stress that has been building up over the years. And so, on a day when you were feeling unusually confident, you gathered up the courage and spent hours sending out applications to organizations all over Asia that pertained to your specific degree. The applications were mainly for small jobs at small companies, however, your strange spike of motivation gave you the confidence to apply to the everso esteemed JYP Entertainment located in Korea. Of course you knew about this company — you and your friends played songs by ‘Twice’ nonstop back in highschool — but you didn’t realize the full power that this company had on the entertainment market until you did your full research. To say that you thought you had no chance was an understatement. This application was so far of a reach that you purposefully forced your mind to erase all memory of even applying.

However, with your education, your work experience, and whatever tiny bit of luck you had, you somehow made it through the initial application process. Then the next. And the next. Then the interview. And now, you were nervously sitting in this white painted room with Na-eun, in a completely new country, waiting for your manager to come greet you.

“So you’re from China? You’ve got to teach me chinese sometime.” Na-eun smiled.

You giggled in return while nodding your head. You were relieved that you’ve met a potential friend so early in your career in this company. This was one of your big worries. With your social circle being so stagnant for the majority of your life back in China, you rarely had the opportunity to meet new people, much less make new friends.

You were about to inquire more into Na-eun’s life when the door to your left abruptly opened. In the blink of an eye, three new people strutted in — two women and one man. They seemed to be higher status than you and Na-eun judging by their attire. All three were styled in some type of blazer and dress pants and there was no lanyard to be found on any of them.

“Hello new employees,” the man greeted. Judging by his face, he looked to be in his late thirties at the least. His hair was styled back neatly and his lips slanted up, giving him a fox-like appearance. “I am Executive Manager Kim. Joined beside me on the left is Social Media Manager An and to my right is Marketing Manager Chen.”

Both you and Na-eun immediately stood up to bow and introduce yourselves.

“Hello. My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern.” Na-eun said.

“Hello. My name is y/n, I’m the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.” You repeated after her, copying exactly what she said. You did not want to screw anything up on your first day, especially your first impression.

Manager Kim reached over to Na-eun, introducing himself and giving her a firm handshake. He then slowly moved over to you, and reached for your hand.

“Y/n,” he gave time for your name to settle on his tongue as he gave a sly smile. “You’re not from here, aren't you?”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No, sir. I’m from China where I studied language and business. I hope to do well here as the Chinese marketing assistant.” You replied, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so timid.

“I’m glad to hear,” Manager Kim chuckled, “I’m sure you’ll treat me and your other managers well.”

You felt an uncomfortable shiver pass through you as he brushed his thumb along your hand before letting go. This feeling was excused as nervousness, after all, this was your first day and your first time meeting your higher-ups.

You introduced yourself to Manager Chen, assuming that she would be the one you were to assist in your time here at JYPE. Judging by her last name, you presumed that she was Chinese as well.

“Forgive me for being so straight up Manager Chen, but are you Chinese?” You asked.

“That is alright, y/n,” she smiled, “I’m not. My Husband is, but I’ve lived in China for more than half my life. I don’t want to brag, but my mandarin has gotten proficient over the past decade or so.”

Proficient? It’s amazing. You thought. This first day was turning out better than you thought. Other than the weird feeling you received from Manager Kim, everything was turning out splendid. A potential friend and a manager that could speak your first language.

“Since it’s about noon right now,” Manager Kim took a look at his watch, “What do you all think about some lunch?”

The other managers nod their heads in agreement and gestures for you and Na-eun to follow them out of the waiting room you were in for so long.

The whole building seemed so clean. With every corner lit, by natural light or artificial light, you could clearly see that every room, every piece of furniture and decor had been purposefully placed. You couldn’t help but have a stupid look of awe plastered on your face as you mindlessly follow your superiors over to the cafeteria.

You turned your head over to Na-eun and gave her a tilt of the eyebrow, silently saying wow, this is where we work.

With the turn of a corner and several silent strides, your little group made it to the cafeteria.

The difference between your claustrophobic waiting room and this vast room was astonishing. With countless tables and romantic yellow lighting, this place almost resembled a five star restaurant. You’ve never seen a cafeteria as extravagant and clean as this before. However, to be fair, you’ve never had the experience of working with such a large corporation before.

The managers led you to the serving station where you grabbed yourself a tray and proceeded to spoon small portions of rice and side dishes onto your plate. This cuisine was different to what you were used to, but nonetheless looked delicious. You were prepared for the small cultural differences, especially with the food, but from everything you’ve witnessed so far, the culture shock would be easier to overcome than what you’ve anticipated.

“Have this soup y/n,” Manager Kim’s grating voice came from in front of you, interrupting your inner monologue. “It’s good for your complexion.”

As Manager Kim hands over the bowl of soup, you feel the sleeve of his blazer brush up against your shoulder, causing the pit of your stomach to drop.

First day nerves. That was what this feeling was. You thought.

You quietly thanked him with a small nod and walked briskly from the service line, trying to find where Na-eun went with the other two managers. Thankfully, they were just a step away and you quickly made your way over to the comfortable spot beside Na-eun. She gave you a small grin and you both followed your way to a table right in the middle of the room.

Soon, all five chairs of the table got filled and sounds of chopsticks tapping and scraping against plates and bowls filled your ears. An awkward silence dominates your table as you start to pick at your food.

“So,” Manager Chen cleared her throat, “after lunch I was thinking we should go to a meeting room and discuss Miss. Y/n’s role in our new project.”

“I was thinking the same for our new Intern Choi.” Manager An cut in, “What do you think, Manager Kim?”

“It all sounds good. I will be accompanying Manager Chen to her meeting room as I wish to also further discuss the preliminary steps for our project.” Manager Kim looked from Manager Chen over to you.

“Project?” You ask.

“We’ve had a very successful year with our idol groups and we wanted to ride this success and start marketing in China. Recently, we’ve noticed a very large and growing Chinese audience for this group. I’m sure you’re very curious now, however we can discuss further details once we are in the meeting room.” Manager Chen replies while taking a sip of the water in her glass.

Manager Chen appeared to be a very professional and respectable woman. With prominent collarbones and wide shoulders, she easily looked the part of a confident and adored manager. She needed minimal makeup to highlight her tall cheekbones, and even with a short heel on her feet she seemed to tower over you. However, her warm and comforting voice was what broke her intimidating demeanour. Just listening to her voice felt like you were back in your high school classroom with your favourite teacher explaining the motif of a sad love poem.

After some more awkward conversations mixed with a few work discussions, the five of you finished the delicious food on your trays.

“Please excuse me whilst I head to the restroom” Na-eun spoke up after your group finished clearing the table.

“Please excuse me as well.” You quickly followed, bowing as you both ventured off to the washrooms.

I should get her number so I’m not completely a loner in this place, you thought to yourself. And so, after a quick inner struggle to speak up, you finally decided to ask.

“Hey, should we exchange contacts? I don’t wanna look like the newbie eating in the cafeteria alone after today.” You chuckled.

“Totally!” Na-eun beamed. “I was actually thinking the same thing…”

And so, you both quickly exchanged each other's contact as you made your way to the restrooms.

The hall of the washrooms were narrow, hidden away from the main cafeteria. You walked in, deciding you only wanted to retouch your hair and makeup before your first official meeting. You carefully fix the loose hairs that somehow escaped the confines of your elastic and dab on a fresh layer of foundation before applying your lipstick which rubbed off while eating. Looking over at Na-eun, you see she’s quite in the zone redoing her mascara.

“Hey, I’ll just wait for you in the hall.” You said.

Na-eun gave you a disinterested nod back as she kept focusing on her mascara.

You walked to the end of the hall, leaned against the wall, and pulled out your phone. Smiling, you opened the virtual Tamagotchi app and saw your little friend staring back at you, bouncing up and down. The bundle of virtual pixels happily bounced as you fed and bathed it, making you happier in return. Playing this game, you were so entranced with your phone that the abrupt closing of the washroom doors broke you out of your hypnosis fast, causing you to flinch and drop your phone.

You looked up, only to see a brown haired man wearing a long sleeved black shirt. The hem of his sleeve fell, covering his hand as he bent down to pick up your phone. He stood back up, fully facing you now and you immediately recognized who he was. You weren’t a fool, of course you did all your research on the artists of JYPE before applying for the job. Looking down at you right now, holding your phone in his hand, was Bang Chan of Stray Kids.

The wispy tufts of his brown hair bounced over his forehead as he stepped over to you. He smiled, his dimple poking out of his cheek, and handed your phone back to you. “I think you dropped this.”

Blushing tomato red, you embarrassingly accepted the phone, trying not to make your shaking hands noticeable. It seemed like that failed, however, as you noticed him glance at your hands and dimple grow deeper.

“Thank you.” You meekly chirped and lowered your head, still in awe that you somehow bumped into a JYPE idol in the bathroom hallway of a cafeteria.

“It’s good that there’s no cracks.” Bang Chan said, looking in your eyes.

You looked back into his eyes. His smile never left his face, and you physically felt the warmth radiating off his body like rays from the sun. Some boring, objective part of your brain knew this interaction only lasted a fraction of a second, but you swore that time froze.

“Hyung!” A distant voice called.

Your trance was broken as Bang Chan looked over to the person calling his name. He turned back to you, politely bowed, and casually sauntered over to the man who called him.

What just happened? Your inner monologue ran, still trying to process the embarrassing interaction. The scent of his cologne lingered, swirling the atmosphere around your body.

Thankfully, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on this interaction as Na-eun finally opened the washroom doors and was making her way toward you.

You and Na-eun trailed behind the managers until you reached the set of elevators. It was there where you had to unfortunately separate from your comfort work buddy as she hopped in the elevator across from yours with Manager An. The other two managers led you to the elevator at the end and pressed the button for your destination floor. The ride in the elevator was silent. You stood there, fiddling with your nails.

Once the elevator gave the ding of arrival, the three of you headed down a hall where you presumed had the meeting room.

Manager Kim took a look at the watch on his wrist. “We are a minute late, everybody should be there already. Enter silently and respectfully.” He said in a stern voice.

You reached the frosted glass door of the meeting room and entered through the already opened door. The managers followed behind you with Manager Chen being the last one in and closing the door.

Your eyes widened at whom you saw.

There was Bang Chan, who sat in all his glory, staring right into your eyes with his mouth ajar. His shocked expression didn't last long, however, as he quickly composed himself to fit with the professional atmosphere of this room.

But why was he here? You thought. He’s an artist, isn’t this a management meeting?

Your inner monologue was broken by Manager Kim’s stern voice. “Y/n, why don’t you sit with me for today?” He asked with a slight tilt of the lips. His hand was hovering above your back, almost guiding you to the seat just right of the head chair.

Your heart rate quickened. There was no way that you could handle sitting right beside a high position manager on your first day. You barely knew what your duties entailed, you definitely could not handle the pressure of this seat today. You whipped your head around to look for Manager Chen. She was already sitting in her seat, looking like she was right at home.

“Manager Kim, if you don’t mind, I would like to sit in this position for today, '' a voice spoke up, “I have a lot of new ideas I’d like to share that are written in my notes.”

Bang Chan.

He paused a brief second, eyes switching between you and Manager Kim, and raised his iPad to show the screen filled with words.

“I don’t mind at all, go ahead.” Manager Kim monotonously replied. He then made his way to the head chair.

You looked over at Bang Chan, trying to subtly send the most grateful facial expression over to him. He returned your look, slightly grinning as his fingers tapped on the screen of his iPad and sat down to the right of Manager Kim. You looked over to see Manager Chen gesturing you to sit in the chair beside her and swiftly made your way over. At your seat, she handed you a notepad and pen, both adorned with the JYPE logo.

“Now, as of 1:02 p.m., September first, the meeting will officially begin.” Manager Kim clasped his hands together on top of the table. “As most of you already know, we are in the preliminary stages of planning a Chinese debut for our artist group ‘Stray Kids’. All we have right now is the estimated timeline, which is four months. We have a basic grasp of the concept we are working towards, however, as you all know, trends are always changing and growing. While we are working to create a new and original concept for Stray Kids, we also want the concept to gather as much audience reception as possible.”

Wow. That was a lot to take in. Your hands struggled to keep up with writing down what Manager Kim was saying. You knew this relatively new group was really starting to explode in the past year, but a debut in another country? This group must work really hard to even have the company consider a step as risky as this. So this is why Bang Chan is also involved in this meeting.

You peaked your head up from your notepad. Bang Chan sat across from you, one hand on his chin and the other one holding the pen to his tablet.

Manager Kim then carefully discussed the duties that each group in the room would take. Many of the jobs were directly involved with developing the concept itself, such as producing music, concept art, and theme development. Your pen never took a break from gliding on the notepad as you hurriedly jotted down everything that Manager Kim said.

Eventually, Manager Kim’s delegations moved to Manager Chen. “Manager Chen, I’ll let you take over from here.”

“Thank you Manager Kim,” Manager Chen cleared her throat. “While my main job here was to market Korean comebacks towards the Chinese audience, this new project changes things up a bit. Now, not only will I be in charge of marketing to the Chinese audience, but I will also be directly in charge of the concept itself. I will be working carefully with our team in China to monitor the trends which we can incorporate into our debut.

“This is my new assistant, y/n,” She turned and gestured to you. You politely nodded your head. “She will be gathering information on useful trends and reporting back to me, as well as some translating. Please report any ideas that you deem useful to her by the end of every week for her to sort through and deliver to me.”

You almost want to call Manager Chen crazy for giving you so much power, after all, you were only starting out as her assistant. Despite this, however, you were determined to go above and beyond with the new responsibilities given to you, after all, you knew that choosing to work in an organization as big as JYPE would take blood, sweat, and tears.

After some clarifications given by Manager Chen and a few more questions directed at her, Manager Kim took the reins back in his hands.

“Now, as I’m sure you all know, this is Bang Chan: the leader of Stray Kids. Although our management team is in charge of this debut, we like to include the opinions of artists whenever possible. He will make an appearance whenever he can and act as a representative of Stray Kids, sharing their ideas and opinions.” Manager Kim explained.

Bang Chan politely introduced himself, and quickly went on to express some concerns of his members. He made sure that each concern was answered thoroughly by Manager Kim before moving on to the next.

“As for our concept ideas,” Bang Chan’s soft brown eyes met yours, “will I have to report to y/n?”

You felt your ears redden.

“You could, yes,” Manager Kim straightened his back, “but if you find the weekly deadlines too much of a problem, you may just report to me or at any subsequent meeting.”

“No worries sir,” Bang Chan’s eyes lingered on yours for a fraction of a second more before grinning at Manager Kim, “I’m always punctual.”

The rest of the meeting consisted of more introductions and preliminary plans. After about an hour, everybody seemed satisfied with the contents of the meeting and were starting to pack up all their clutter on the table. You looked over at Manager Chen, silently asking what should I do next?

Manager Chen smiled. “Let's head to my floor. I can give you a quick tour, you can get settled at your desk. I have some paperwork that I’m almost done with; I’m sure you’ll have no problem finishing it for me.” She already was standing up and straightening over the creases of her jacket.

You stood up as well and followed behind Manager Chen like a lost baby duckling. You both made your way over to Manager Kim to bid farewell. You politely thanked him, said your goodbyes, and were about to leave when he stopped the two of you.

“Manager Chen, let’s go out for drinks tonight.” Manager Kim took a look at the intricate watch on his wrist. “With our whole team, of course. It’ll be a welcoming night and we can get to know the people on our team better.”

“That’s a great idea, Manager Kim,” Manager Chen nodded at his idea in approval. She turned on her iPad to quickly get a glimpse at her schedule. “What do you think y/n? Can you make it tonight? I know this is very last moment, but I think it’ll be a great opportunity for you to get to know your coworkers better.”

“I should be able to make it.” You definitely could make it. You had no plans anyways.

“Am I invited to this top secret party you’re all having?” A now very distinguishable voice came from behind you. Bang Chan stared at Manager Kim with a very mischievous expression.

“Would your manager allow it?” Manager Kim questioned, knitting his eyebrows.

“I’m on a diet, so I can’t drink alcohol or eat anything,” Bang Chan’s nose scrunched up in annoyance, “but I want to be as involved as I can. Just because I’m an idol doesn’t mean I can’t help behind the scenes as well.”

“Very well,” Manager Kim nodded with a fixed expression, “Let’s all meet at that restaurant about a block away west. I’ll go tell the others.” And with that, Manager Kim left you, Manager Chen, and Bang Chan to stand in awkward silence.

“Well,” Bang Chan cleared his throat and clapped his hands together, “I’ll get going as well to do some work now, but it was nice meeting the both of you.”

“You as well.” Manager Chen replied for the both of you and Bang Chan left soon after.

Manager Chen then led you to the elevators again and you headed up yet another few floors to reach your destination. You nervously fiddled with your hair as you silently waited behind your boss, looking up at the smooth lines of her blazer every few seconds. The elevator doors dinged, letting you know of its arrival. The two of you swiftly headed out the elevators and walked to what you presumed was Manager Chen’s office area. You kept following behind Manager Chen in silence before you stopped in front of a set of doors that looked identical to the ones at the previous meeting room. Manager Chen opened the doors for you, and you headed in.

You paused a step in, looking wide-eyed at the interior. The office was clean. A big glass desk sat right in the middle of the vast room in front of a huge set of windows. There were a couple of soft looking chairs placed right before the desk with a huge rug right underneath it. Over to your left, you spotted a water dispenser with a kettle right beside it. You stared at the room a bit longer before realizing you must have looked very stupid with that astonished look on your face.

“Is this your office, Manager Chen?” You asked.

“Yes. It seems that you like it,” She chuckled. You felt the heat rise to your ears.

“Since you’ll be working so close to me, I’m sure you’ll be happy to come here more often.”

“Thanks.” You awkwardly laughed. You blamed your bad response on the fact that you still weren’t familiar with the language, not your blatant awkwardness.

Manager Chen made her way over to her desk, picking up a small stack of papers. “These are some letters I’ve received from several designer companies in China. Since we are still in the very preliminary stages of this project, we would like to keep our options open for the stylists here.” She picks an annotated letter from the pile. “I’ve translated and created a summary of the main points of this letter. There are a few more left which I believe I can trust you with. Just do as I did with this letter and add the sample pictures along with it.”

You quickly complied, taking the stack of papers from her hands.

“I’ll show you to your new work space.” She led you out of your office and over to a cubicle that wasn’t too far away. It was considerably smaller compared to Manager Chen’s office, but you thought it had a certain coziness to it. Plus, working close to your coworkers could also boost your motivation. “Here is your desk, it’s not the most exciting thing, but you may bring photos or whatnot to decorate it. Now, I’ll let you settle in and get started on your work. You can meet me at my office around six, I can double check your work before we leave.”

You thanked her before she left and immediately got started on your work. You diligently translated the whole of the letters before picking out the main points that matched with Manager Chen’s example. After this was done, you included the photos that came with each letter and slipped them into their own cozy folder. This work was monotonous, sure, but it was something you needed on your hectic first day here.

You were so captivated by your work that you completely forgot about the time. The sun was starting to set, and you only remembered to look at the time after you tucked your last letter neatly in its folder. You briefly panicked, praying that you weren’t making your manager wait. Thankfully, it was only a quarter until six. You took the next fifteen minutes double checking your work, making sure to also check the time every once in a while. At exactly six, you left your desk and scurried over to the big doors of Manager Chen’s office.

Knocking a couple times, you waited patiently to be let in.

“Come in.”

You let yourself in, handing the papers to your manager, then sat quietly in one of the chairs before her desk, crossing your fingers together. You fiddled with your thumbs, patiently waiting for Manager Chen to speak up.

“Not bad, this is some decent work.” Manager Chen announced as soon as she finished glossing over your work. “I’ve noted some places that you can either fix or improve. I’ll scan them and hand you a copy tomorrow.”

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. A tidal wave of relief washed over you as you let yourself relax further into your chain. Not bad, this is some decent work. You proudly repeated this moment in your brain. Although you were disappointed with the mistakes that you let slip through, to get somewhat of a compliment on your first day meant a lot to you.

“Shall we get going now?” Manager Chen asked.

You grabbed your bag and stood up. “I’ll let you lead the way.”

_______

It seemed like all you were doing on your first day was following Manager Chen around like a lost puppy. The situation right now was no exception either, as you tried to copy her confident strides over to the restaurant a block down. You watched the busy rush hour streets and sidewalks fill with people, some people going home after a long day, some people going to party just like you.

Soon, after a few more minutes of walking, the both of you arrived at the small wooden doors of the restaurants. It seemed like the both of you were a bit late as Manager Kim was already waiting in front of the entrance with the rest of the team. Bang Chan was also there, head down looking at his phone.

“Sorry we’re late, have you been waiting for long?” Manager Chen somehow sounded confident despite making everybody wait on her.

Her voice seemed to have caught everybody’s attention. You watched as Bang Chan swiftly turned his head up from his phone, his eyes making contact with yours. You immediately focused your eyes somewhere else, trying to casually play off the fact that your eyes subconsciously drifted to him.

“We’ve only been waiting for a couple minutes.” Manager Kim gave a tight smile. “Let’s go in before you all get too cold.”

Your little group of around ten people slowly entered the doors, filling the restaurant. Manager Kim called over a waitress, signaling that you had ten people in your group, and let the waitress lead you all to a long wooden table.

The restaurant was nice, nothing too fancy, but that’s how you could tell the food was good. With dim lighting and tightly packed tables, it made you feel fuzzy and warm on the inside.

However, your thoughts on the restaurant were soon broken by a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n, why don’t you sit with me?” Manager Kim’s lips curled up, “After all, this is a work gathering, how good of a boss would I be if I didn’t even treat my newest team member to a drink?”

Your brain was in shambles. You seriously didn’t feel comfortable sitting with him all night. However, the logical side of your brain was saying something different. He’s just being nice as a boss. You don’t know how people in this country act anyways, stop being paranoid.

It seemed like your inner turmoil was taking longer than necessary, as you heard another familiar voice speak up.

“Manager Kim-” Bang Chan called out.

“You don’t need to sit with me here, Bang Chan.” Manager Kim chuckled as he stared directly in Bang Chan’s eyes. “I’d rather not talk about work outside the office.”

You watched as Bang Chan’s eyebrows furrowed, looking back to you in reluctance. You smiled at him before turning your attention to Manager Kim. It was just one night, right? Plus, there’s no harm in establishing a good impression with your boss.

“I’ll sit with you, Manager Kim.” You smiled, “thanks for offering.”

And so, you took your seat next to Manager Kim at the table. Bang Chan, who was to your left, looked askance at Manager Kim for a brief second before his facial expression did a complete 180. His familiar, boy-ish smile was plastered on his face like it was the most natural thing.

When the menus came, everybody at the table — including you — started to order onslaughts of food and alcohol. After brief moments of casual chatter about topics such as the weather or how good the food was here, everything that was ordered arrived at your table.

You grabbed a can of beer and started sipping on it. You’ve drank before — of course — with your old friends at university, but it’s been at least a year since you last did. Better ease myself in. You thought.

However, your preconceived plans were ruined when a small glass of clear liquor got pushed in front of you.

“Y/n, surely you aren’t going to sip on that can all night.” The ends of Manager Kim’s lips curled up.

“Wasn’t planning to, sir.” You replied while tipping the glass up and into your mouth. The bitter liquid burned your throat as it went down. You took a moment to recollect your surroundings. Seems like your tolerance was higher than you thought.

“Bang Chan, do you not drink? Why not eat something then?” Manager Chen pointed to the food on the table.

“No can do ma’am, I’m on a strict diet. My manager would kill me.” Bang Chan pointed to his glass of water.

“In that case,” Manager Chen filled another glass, “Y/n, have another drink.” She slid the glass down the table in front of you.

You gladly accepted your second drink, downing the alcohol in one go. Your eyes instinctively squeezed together as you felt your throat burn. From the tips of your ears to the ends of your toes, your whole body felt warm and alive.

You lost track of the time. As your conversations got livelier, your head got fuzzier. You stopped counting your drinks after four, especially since so many people were eager to offer the new employee a drink. Although your vision was starting to blur, you could still think straight. I can still think, you thought to yourself, still — what a powerful buzz.

Your thoughts ran rampant in your mind as you stared at the lightbulb across the room. What a pretty light. So bright. Warm.

“Y/n.”

Was the light calling your name?

“Y/n!”

Your eyes focused again and snapped away from the lightbulb. Where was the voice coming from? You slowly turned your head. Bang Chan.

“Hi.” You smiled.

“Hi.” He smiled back. So bright. Warm. “It’s been hours and I haven’t even offered you a drink yet.”

You tried to focus your eyes on his face as he slid the glass over to you. One more drink wouldn’t hurt your buzz, right?

You gladly accepted, slowly moving your hand over to the glass to pick the clear liquid up. It went down in one go just like all the others.

Huh? Was this water?

You struggled to focus your eyes on the person who offered you the drink. “That was yummy.”

“I bet it was,” the talking blur chuckled, “How about another one?”

You nodded, then took the glass he slid towards you. It’s funny how water flows even when in a cup. Water. You needed to pee.

“Hey,” your words dragged out, “where’s uh, where’s the washroom?”

“Follow me. I’ll show you.” Manager Kim stood up and reached his hand out towards you. You didn’t want to take it, but it seemed like nobody was noticing his offer.

Reluctantly, you took his hand and stood up, only to stumble down again. Did your knees not want to listen?

“Whoa there, better hold on.” Manager Kim said.

“No, I can walk. I-I can walk.” You let go of Manager Kim and tried to focus all your brainpower on moving your feet in a straight line. This tactic only worked for a second, however, as your knees gave in and you stumbled down.

“It’s obvious that you can’t.” Manager Kim’s lips turned up. “It’s time for you to go home. I’ll take you back.”

What? No. You didn’t want Manager Kim to take you home, not after all the awkward events of today and the general vibe from him. You tried to express your thoughts, but nothing came out of your mouth.

“Manager Kim, you’ve been drinking!” Bang Chan’s voice came from some part of the room. “It’s not safe to drive, I’ll call a taxi for you.”

“What about Y/n here? I’ll get a taxi for us both.” Manager Kim said.

“I called my manager earlier to pick me up, we can drop her off along the way. It’s not a good idea to put two drunk people in a car. I’m completely sober right now, so let me do all the work.” Bang Chan grinned, patting Manager Kim on his shoulder.

“Is that what you want, Y/n?” Manager Kim glared.

You dizzily nodded.

“Alright. In that case, I can call my own taxi later.” Manager Kim grimaced.

“Stay safe, Manager Kim.” Bang Chan smiled. He turned to you. “My manager’s been waiting outside for a while now, do you want to leave now?”

You nodded. You tried to start walking again, but your damn knees just wouldn’t listen.

“Do you want to hold on to me?” Bang Chan knitted his brows together and held out an arm.

“I,” you slurred, “can walk.” You tried to start your feet again, only to end up stumbling down.

“I know you can,” Bang Chan said as he reached his hands out to stabilize you, “but — ah — I’m really tired after today. Can you hold on to my arm so I won’t fall out of exhaustion?”

You agreed to help him. Bang Chan waved to everybody still at the table before leading the two of you out to a black SUV. He allowed you to stumble your way in the back seats first before sliding in himself. He asked you for your address, which took many tries for you to accurately type it into his phone.

You leaned your head against the window, staring at passing blurred lights as Bang Chan’s manager started driving. Just being away from the loud and bright environment seemed to have cleared your head a little, but the pounding would not stop. You cursed yourself for being so irresponsible on your first day, especially because you were still alone in this new country.

“Hey,” you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, “want some water?” You looked over to see Bang Chan holding out a plastic bottle with the lid screwed off.

You languidly reached your hand out for the bottle and gulped down as much water as you could in one breath before handing it back to him. The street lights started getting blurrier as you tried to fight exhaustion, the muscles in your eyelids starting to get more and more uncontrollable.

“Y/n.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re almost there. Ten more minutes.”

You couldn’t hear anything after that, however, as you felt your eyes give up on you and your body fall into a deep sleep.

“Y/n… Y/n.” A familiar voice called.

You fluttered your eyes open, your head pounding. Not knowing where you were, you surveyed your surroundings in a panic. It seemed as though you were in the back of a car… Parked outside of your apartment building?

“Hey, you’re finally awake.” Bang Chan’s voice entered your ear. It all came rushing back to you; the restaurant, the drinking, entering the SUV.

“How long have we been parked here?” Your groggy voice sounded inhuman. You had to clear your throat a couple times.

“It’s only been twenty or so minutes. I’m not allowed to leave the car, are you able to get home alone? I can ask my manager to go with you.” Bang Chan scratched the back of his neck.

“I should be fine.” You mumbled, a bit embarrassed to have fallen asleep in the car of a person you just met that day. This wasn’t even his car, it was his manager’s.

“Hey… can I put my number in your phone?” Bang Chan avoided your eyes. “Just so you can tell me when you get home.” He quickly added.

“Okay.” You awkwardly handed him your phone with your contacts already opened. He quickly typed his phone number in before handing it back to you.

“Text me when you get home. Remember to lock your door, okay?”

You thank both him and his manager before hurrying back to your apartment. Your head was still pounding unrelentlessly as you pressed the elevator button for your floor. The events of today were still unprocessed in your brain. You met a potential friend, which was a highlight. However, you also met two higher up managers and an actual idol, only to get hilariously drunk in the presence of. At least it’ll make a good story to tell my mom. You thought.

In no time, you made it in your apartment and locked the door behind you, remembering what Bang Chan told you in the car. You texted the new number in your phone.

Y/n: Hi. It’s y/n. I just entered my apartment.

Not even a minute later, your phone lit up, signaling a new text message.

Bang Chan: great!! remember to lock the doooor hahaha ( ◕ω◕✿ )

You subconsciously grin at your phone. Cute. Throwing your phone haphazardly on your bed, you begrudgingly began your night routine. After washing up and throwing on a random shirt from your closet, you fell on your bed ready to sleep. You were about to close your eyes when your phone lit up again with a ding. It was another text.

Bang Chan: Hey… Just so you know, if you ever feel unsafe around the office just tell me okay? I’ll always try to help you in whatever way I can.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #skz imagines #bang chan #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan smut

255 notes · View notes

kireimarkeu · 4 years ago

Text

retrouvailles; l.mk

THIS IS A REPOST!!!!

Summary: counting down the days until you finally see your long-distance boyfriend.

Mark is a jerk at one point. Also noticed how I put skype when they were calling through the phone and ft through laptop LOL

word count: 5.7k

Also lets pretend we can use spotify in korea ok

--Day 98

(10:33PM) Cutie: you idiot

(10:33PM) Cutie: answer my call!! You loserrrr

(10:34PM) You: omg give me a second

(10:35PM) You: ffs jshkdmj

(10:35PM) Cutie: omg what are you doing

(10:35PM) Cutie: why are you taking so long

(10:37PM) You: GIVE ME A SECOND

(10:37PM) You: im taking food

You plop onto your bed, placing the plate of grapes on the mattress, resulting in some to topple out of the bowl. You quickly pop one in your mouth before turning on your laptop.

Before you could even call Mark, he was already requesting a facetime with you. You immediately answered.

“Finally,” your boyfriend huffs when the call was finally connected.

You hum, your hands searching for more grapes that has dropped on your bed sheets, popping them in your mouth.

“What are you eating?” he asks.

“Grapes,” your voice came out muffled from chewing, but Mark understands.

“That’s what took you so long?” he frowns, “I can cut a watermelon in 5 seconds,”

“I didn’t ask,” you bite back.

Your boyfriend automatically raises his hand to flash his middle finger while you did the same back at him.

“What time is it there?” you ask him with raised eyebrows.

You were studying in Korea but because of the virus, you had to go back to Canada. You didn’t know how long you would be staying, but Mark had promised you that he would make it work.

“Um,” he looks at the clock that was a hanging next to him, “it’s 2:30PM here,” he answers, looking back at you, “It’s about 11 there, right?”

You nod.

“Don’t you have class tomorrow?” Mark asks.

Lucky for you, your classes has changed to the local timing in Canada. Meaning, you don’t need to stay up at ungodly hours for your classes.

“I think I can wake up tomorrow,”

“Do you want me to call you?”

“Please,” you pout.

Mark scowls jokingly at you, “the things I do for my girlfriend,”

You giggle innocently at your boyfriend, “I love you,” you make a heart with your hands, grinning at your laptop.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes.

--Day 90

“Babe, look up,” you call.

Mark looks up to see you holding your phone up, obviously filming him through the screen.

“What?”

He could hear you grinning from behind your phone.

“Smile,” you instruct.

He grins awkwardly while you let out a snort from behind the screen. You put your phone down, typing something before looking back up at your boyfriend.

“What did you do?”

You look up at him, biting back a smile— to which you failed, “go check Instagram,”

Mark immediately opens Instagram to see that you had posted something on your private Instagram. Only him and the members are following your private account since your relationship is still private.

He clicks on the bubble to see a video of him that you had recorded. When he smiles, his face morphed into a horse from of the filter you were using. Mark couldn’t help but chuckle at the funny effect.

“Okay, that’s kinda funny,” he admits.

He looks back up at you to see you holding your phone in front of your face again, probably trying another filter on him again.

“Is this another ugly filter, again?” whines your boyfriend.

You laugh, your phone not covering your face anymore, “it’s not!”

“Don’t lie,”

Your giggles got louder, “it’s not! I swear!”

“Fine,” he huffs. He straightens his back and stares at the camera, waiting for you to finish recording.

You put your phone down re-watching the video, chuckles leaving your lips.

“What filter did you use?”

“It’s on my insta, baby,”

He looks down on his phone again to see that you have posted another story. He immediately clicks on it to see it was an NCT filter.

‘Who is your NCT Bias?’ Was written on top of his head.

Mark waits for the filter to show the result. He grimaced when he got Jeno. He swipes up to reply to your story to send you a message.

markleeee99 replied to your story: ewww

--Day 87

(1:18PM) mwark: hello baby

(1:20PM) you: wht im having class rn

(1:20PM) mwark: so

(1:25PM) you: i have class??? go away loser

(1:25PM) mwark: :( I just wanna talk to my girlfriend tho :/

(1:27PM) you: later

(1:27PM) mwark: nooo

(1:33PM) you: omg youre an idol why are you so free

(1:34PM) you: go dance or rap or smth

(1:34PM) mwark: babyyyy

(1:35PM) you: im putting my phone on dnd

(1:35PM) mwark: nooo

(1:35PM) mwark: babe

(1:40PM) mwark: did you actually leave me D:

(1:40PM) mwark: ok whatev

(1:40PM) mwark: I was about to send you something but I guess I won’t now

(1:40PM) mwark: are you still ignoring me????

(1:41PM) mwark: omg babe I was jst joking I’ll send you some gifts

(1:41PM) mwark: booo u suck :(

--Day 81

This time, it was slightly different. Instead of your usual late-night calls through the computer, you had immediately skype him through your phone when you had received a package from Korea.

“You got me something?” you ask loudly when your boyfriend answered your call.

“Jeez, hello to you too, babe,” he rolls his eyes, “and yea, did it arrive?”

“What did you get me? And what type of shipping did you choose? It arrived so quickly,”

The box was pretty heavy, so you had to put your phone down to place the huge box on the counter before bringing your phone back into view.

“Express, I paid like extra,” Mark answers, eyeing you through the screen.

You click your tongue, opening the drawer to take out a knife, “stop wasting your money, you dumbass,”

Mark didn’t reply, instead he waits for you to open the package.

You let out a sigh, “what did you get me this time?”

You open the cardboard box, a navy-blue hoodie covering the top of it. You pull it out, looking at Mark who has a smile plastered on his face.

“Is this your hoodie?!” you squeal, putting it on yourself.

Your heart melt when the familiar scent fills your nostrils. It smells just like Mark.

“Canada is getting cold isn’t it? Keep yourself warm, baby,”

You lean over to take everything out from the box. Mark had given you his half-used cologne that he uses on a daily.

“I bought a new one just so I could give you mine,” he tells you, a playful smirk on his lips.

He had also packed some of your favourite Korean snacks, and some that you haven’t tried before. Along with some matching phone cases for the both of you.

“Now I feel bad I didn’t get anything for you,” you frown., pulling the hoodie over your head.

“Don’t be,” he reassures you, “being able to see you is already enough,”

You scrunch your nose in disgust, “cringey, Mark-ie,”

“Fuck you,” he chuckles, flashing his middle finger at you.

Your eyes widen when he cursed, “my mom’s home, you idiot!”

You laugh loudly when Mark’s eyes widen in surprise, both his hands covering his mouth.

“Y/N?” you hear your mom call from the living room, “who are you talking to?”

Before you could even reply, your mother was walking towards you.

“It’s Mark,” you answer as your mother got into frame to see Mark.

“Mark! It has been a while, how’s Korea?”

Your boyfriend greeted your mom politely, a grin plastered on his face. Your mom was about to reach for your phone to talk to Mark, but you frown and pull away.

“Noo, I wanna talk to Mark,”

You gathered the gifts Mark had given you in your arms before skipping up the stairs to your room, to spend the whole day (night for him) with him.

--Day 80

“Yo, Mark, there’s some food left outside, do you want it?” you heard Johnny ask from through the screen.

Mark turns to look at the intruder, “knock next time, dude,” groans Mark.

“Is that y/n?”

Johnny suddenly enters the frame with a gummy grin, waving enthusiastically at you.

“Hi Johnny, how are you?” you smile, waving back at the older boy.

Just when Johnny was about to get comfortable on Mark’s bed, your boyfriend let out string of whines, moving his phone until you could only see his cheeks.

“Ah, that’s enough,” your boyfriend says in annoyance, “y/n is tired, goodnight, baby.”

You couldn’t even reply because Mark had already ended the skype call.

You pout, opening your messenger to send a text to your boyfriend.

(7:35PM) You: heyyy why’d you end the call? ):

(7:36PM) Bubba: sorry

(7:36PM) Bubba: johnny was being annoying

(7:36PM) You: he wasn’t tho ):

(7:36PM) You: can we call again?

(7:38PM) Bubba: sorry angel

(7:38PM) Bubba: johnny wants me to go make music

(7:38PM) Bubba: later tonight?

(7:38PM) You: oky

(7:42PM) You: love u!

(7:42PM) Bubba: love u too

(7:42PM) Bubba: <3

--Day 76

You were in the middle of facetiming mark when your phone vibrates from a text. You raise your eyebrows, thinking it was Mark.

(12:11AM) Johnny: hey

(12:11AM) Johnny: I need to ask you something

(12:13AM) You: yeah?

(12:13AM) Johnny: is mark okay lately?

(12:13AM) You: he seems fine to me, why? Did something happen?

(12:14AM) Johnny: I don’t know if I should tell you about this

(12:14AM) Johnny: but

(12:14AM) Johnny: youre the only one who can probably help him

(12:14AM) You: help him with what?

You look up at your laptop to see that Mark’s eyes was still glued on his phone. Probably playing some games.

(12:17AM) Johnny: he hasn’t been eating lately

(12:19AM) Johnny: he doesn’t really tell us stuff anymore so I was wondering you would’ve known something?

(12:22AM) You: oh

(12:22AM) You: he hasn’t told me anything

(12:23AM) You: I’ll talk to him about it

(12:25AM) You: thanks johnny :)

“Hey,” you jump at your boyfriend’s voice. You snap your head to look at your boyfriend who was already staring at you with curious eyes. “What are you so busy with?”

You clear your throat, shaking your head, tossing your phone to the side.

“I wanna ask you something,” you say.

“Whats up?”

You scratch your head, unsure of how to put it into words without offending your boyfriend. You knew he hated being babied but you still want to care for him. He was your other half, after all.

“Have you been eating well lately?”

You could sense Mark was stunned by the random question. He looks away from your wary eyes.

“Who told you?”

“Mark—”

“It was Johnny wasn’t it?” he cuts you off in anger. “God damn it, this is why I don’t want you talking to my friends,”

Why was he making this such a big deal?

“Mark I was just asking a simple question, why are you acting this way?” you argued back.

He shakes his head, threading his fingers through his black hair stressfully.

“I need to go Y/N,” sighs your boyfriend, “Goodnight,”

“Mark—” you were too late. Mark had already ended the call.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you lied down on your bed.

You weren’t sure if you should text him or give him space. Should you apologize? Was it your fault for bringing it up?

After thinking for a while, you decided to send him a text.

(8:33PM) You: hi baby. I was just asking because I was worried about you. I know you hate it when I baby you, but I’m just looking out for you. I didn’t mean to bother you

(8:33PM) You: please don’t blame your friends for this.

(8:36PM) You: I’m sorry, okay?

(8:40PM) You: I just want you to eat healthily. I’m not there to take care of you and I just want you to be healthy.

(8:47PM) You: just text me whenever so we can talk this out

(8:57PM) You: goodnight, mark

--Day 75

(12:03PM) Lovey: hey

(12:03PM) Lovey: I was thinking and realised how selfish I acted towards you

(12:05PM) Lovey: I know you were just looking out for me and I was just wasn’t in the mood because of how stressful it has been

(12:05PM) Lovey: please don’t apologize. Its my fault

(12:15PM) You: why haven’t you been eating?

(12:15PM) Lovey: comeback

(12:15PM) Lovey: I’m trying to lose some cheeks for this comeback

(12:30PM) Lovey: sorry for worrying you

(12:31PM) You: whaa…

(12:33PM) You: but you know my favourite part of your face is your cheeks D:

(12:33PM) Lovey: :(

(12:33PM) You: will you start eating again?

(12:35PM) You: im not going to force you, mark. It’s really up to you.

(12:35PM) Lovey: im eating right now

(12:35PM) You: what are you eating

(12:38PM) Lovey: cereal

(12:38PM) Lovey: and um some left over sushi from yesterday

(12:38PM) You: ohhh sounds delicious

(12:40PM) You: okay I wont disturb you anymore, have fun eating bby

As you were about to put your phone away but there was an incoming videocall from your boyfriend. A small chuckle left your lips as you answered the call.

--Day 73

“Yo, did you see it?!” was the first thing Mark had asked you when you answered his call.

You raise your eyebrows in confusion, sitting up from your laying position, “see what?”

“We just posted a new dance practice; did you not see it?” his eyes widen dismay.

You shook your head, grabbing your laptop from the table, placing it on your lap, “nope, my phone was on dnd,”

“How did you answer my call, then?”

“You’re in my favourites dumbass,”

You type in your password before searching YouTube and clicking on the video that your boyfriend was talking about.

While watching the video, you placed your phone resting on the laptop so Mark could see your face. Throughout the whole video, you were singing softly to the song.

“Did you see that?! Did you see it?” Mark suddenly yells through the screen during the dance break part.

You jump a little, “what? What? What did I miss?”

He groans at you, “the bracelet! Johnny dropped it!”

“Huh?” you press the arrow to repeat it again and you noticed how Johnny’s bracelet fell while he was dancing.

“Wait a little more, I picked it up! Like a professional!”

You waited a little longer and your boyfriend was right. While he was getting into position, your boyfriend had swept the bracelet in his hands.

You grin, “proud of you, babe,”

You wanted to continue watching but your laptop started lagging from the terrible wi-fi. You groan in annoyance, pressing pause, hoping it would reload but it only hangs even more.

“God damnit, this fucking wi-fi,”

“Should I buy you a router? Or a new laptop?” he jokes.

--Day 71

(9:02PM) You: hey wanna call?

(9:02PM) You: today was so stressful I just wanna talk to you

(10:12PM) You: ahh you must be busy with comeback

(9:32PM) You: sorry babe! We’ll jst call tmr? :)

(9:33PM) You: love u! make sureee u drink lots of water <3

-Day 67

Mark lets out an aspirated sigh as he answers your facetime call. “What, Y/N?”

You frown at the way he greets you. He was moody probably because he just finished practicing.

You could tell from how he was laying on his bed without a shirt on, or how he would repeatedly thread his fingers through his black locks.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” you mumble out softly, your eyes softening, feeling guilty that you were disturbing him.

You bit your lip anxiously when Mark simply sighs, rolling his eyes slightly, “should we just call another time?”

He sighs once more, moving around until he lays on his side, “no, no, what’s up?”

You felt a little hesitant, unsure if he was being sarcastic or not. Mark wasn’t the type to approach something if he doesn’t like it, he would just go with the flow.

You shook your head, laying back down onto your bed, “No, you’re tired and I shouldn’t be disturbing you right now.”

Mark opens his mouth but you cut him off, “Sorry, Mark. Goodnight.”

You quickly end the call with a heavy heart, throwing your phone next to you. You knew you shouldn’t be expecting an incoming call from your boyfriend, but you shamelessly waited for his specific ringtone.

It did break your heart a little when you didn’t get any response from your boyfriend.

That night, you had spent your time watching Netflix with tears rolling down your cheeks.

-Day 62

“Y/N?”

A choked sob left your throat, your hands wiping the tears running down your cheeks.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Johnny’s voice filled your ears.

You gulp as your heart clench painfully when you hear Mark’s laughter in the background.

“Y/N, d-do you want me to pass the phone to Mark?”

“N-no,” you quickly say out, pausing a little. Hiccups leaving your lips, “d-don’t… please,”

“Okay?” Johnny replies in uncertainty, “Are you… okay? Should I beat Mark up?” he jokes.

You couldn’t bring yourself to smile. “How is he doing?” you whisper, but Johnny could hear very clearly.

You assumed that he had moved somewhere else since you can’t hear the boys screaming in the background.

“Did something happen?” Johnny asks, “I’m not with them right now, so you can tell me.”

You remember the last time you had last talked to Mark.

It has been exactly 5 days since the both of you last texted— or even called. You weren’t sure why or how it happened.

It had taken a big toll on you— you couldn’t focus during lessons and you had spent most of the nights wide awake, thinking what had gone wrong. You had contemplated multiple times whether you should send him a text, but every time you push yourself to say something, you would always remember how busy he is.

“We haven’t been talking for a while,” you answer painfully, “but he’s doing fine, right?”

You hope he’s doing fine.

You hear Johnny lets out an agitated sigh, “Don’t worry Y/N, I’ll go talk to him, okay?”

“Just… don’t stress him out even more.”

“I won’t. Just… stop crying over him, okay?” he says, “Mark is an idiot, he’s not worth crying over.”

A small giggle leaves your lips, “you sound like a girl right now,”

-Day 61

(12:12AM) Mark: hey babe

(12:12AM) Mark: johnny just talked to me about what happened

(12:13AM) Mark: can we talk?

(12:45AM) You: okay

(12:45AM) Mark: great, I’ll call you

(12:45AM) You: no

(12:46AM) You: we’ll text

(12:46AM) You: here

You just know that you would be a sobbing mess once you hear Mark’s voice.

(12:46AM) Mark: oh

(12:46AM) Mark: okay

(12:46AM) Mark: youre okay tho

(12:47AM) Mark: right

(12:52AM) You: mhm

(12:52AM) Mark: that’s great um

(12:52AM) Mark: i didn’t know you were feeling that way

(12:53AM) Mark: i’ve been so busy lately i forgot to text or call you

(12:53AM) Mark: and that is not your fault at all

(12:53AM) Mark: i shouldn’t be acting like that in the first place

(12:54AM) Mark: its just really hard with timezones and everything

(12:54AM) Mark: especially with the comeback and all

(12:54AM) You: what are you saying mark?

(12:55AM) Mark: what?

(12:58AM) You: are you breaking up with me?

(12:58AM) Mark: wat? no. what.

(12:58AM) You: wait so we’re not breaking up?

(12:58AM) Mark: what

(12:58AM) Mark: no of course not what are you saying?

(12:59AM) You: I DON’T KNOW

(12:59AM) You: i thought you wanted to break up

(12:59AM) Mark: no I don’t want to what the fuck

(12:59AM) You: so we’re good now right?

-Day 51

Soft melodies were playing in the background while the both of you were doing different things.

You were sitting on your chair, your elbows pressing painfully against your desk, working on your homework diligently. Your phone was perched on your lamp, making sure Mark could see your face.

Your boyfriend was laying on his bed with a notebook laying in front of him, a pen in his hand while he thought of lyrics. He had his legs swinging back and forth behind him cutely.

You exhale loudly as you re-read the same question over and over again.

Mark immediately looks up, “you okay?”

You hum without even looking at him before you continued doing your work.

Mark decides to leave you alone as to not distract you. He rests his cheek against his arm as he tries to think of another sentence to finish the song he was working on.

His eyes slowly dart towards you who had their eyebrows furrowed cutely, a pout plastered on your lips, baby hairs littering against your forehead and cheeks.

Without even realising, a small smile spreads across Mark’s lips. His breath slows down as he relaxed and stares at your figure.

Multiple sentences that could be used as lyrics flooded through his head. He quickly sits up to write the flood of inspiration that was bursting through his veins.

-Day 43

(2:53AM) boyfie: duuudee!!

(2:53AM) boyfie: vlive!!

(2:53AM) boyfie: quick!!!!!

(3:15AM) You: omg ok give me a sec

(3:15AM) You: I just woke up

With a yawn, you open the vlive app and click on the NCT127 page to enter the live your boyfriend was doing.

‘Hi’ you type in the comment section. You stare at your boyfriend, scanning his facial expression to notice your comment.

Exactly 5 seconds later, a huge grin spreads across his lips as he looks up at the camera to wave.

It eased you to know that he was waving at you, for you. Maybe you were being selfish, but you were glad that Mark was yours. Although it does get on your nerves when you see your friends post about how much he loves your boyfriend.

‘mark is so handsome’ you typed.

Unfortunately, Mark didn’t notice your comment, but Donghyuck did. Donghyuck nudges your boyfriend, who immediately responded, turning to look at him.

His friend showed him your comment, which your boyfriend immediately smiles to.

‘I love mark lee so much!!!’

A few seconds later Mark creates a small heart at the camera before looking away with crimson red cheeks.

-Day 38

“So you and Mina, huh?” you say bitterly, rolling your eyes.

You were referring to the interaction between the two when Mina was leaving music bank. You might’ve been slightly jealous of the chemistry between the two, especially when all the fans would ship the both of them.

Mark can only watch you in amusement, a small smile playing along his lips.

“Is she better than me?” you say sarcastically, clicking your tongue,

You envied their friendship. Someone who was merely a friend was able to see your boyfriend so easily.

His face softens, “you know she’s not like that, baby,” his tone was soft, easy to persuade you.

Baby. You wanted to scoff at that. He only used that term when he was trying to win your heart.

You huff, crossing your arms violently. “You’re always with her!”

He chuckles, looking down at his phone before looking back up at you quickly.

You pout at the boy through the screen, “you love me more, right Mark?”

He sarcastically rolls his at your question. What kind of question was that?

His face scrunches in disgust, “Firstly, I don’t even love Mina that way, babe,” he tells you, “and secondly, the only person I love you, alright? So stop being jealous you wimp.”

“Wimp?” you scoff, “and you’re my boyfriend?”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Just as you were about to respond to him, your phone vibrated with a notification. You look down and gaped.

_happiness_o wants to send you a message.

“Mark…”

You unlocked your phone to see the message that Mina was trying to send you.

“You told her?!” you exclaimed, looking up at your boyfriend who was stifling his laughter. “Mark! Why would you do that?!” you whine, throwing your phone next to you.

“In my defence, I didn’t tell her to send you a text,” he says, “I was just talking about how cute you were being!”

-Day 22

You were laying on your side, deep in a slumber while Mark stares at you lovingly.

Your cheek pressed cutely against your pillow which made your lips pout cutely. The little pieces of hair adorning your temples and cheeks only made Mark want to push it back against your ear. Something he would do every time you were sleeping with him.

He suddenly got an idea and fishes out his phone, searching a filter that he had saved for this particular moment.

He clicks on the filter, waiting for it to load for a moment, before adjusting the angle so the filter could scan his face properly. Once he was sure it won’t budge, he presses record.

‘your soulmate is sleeping right now’

A sad smile adorns his lips, looking at you through the screen. He flips the camera, zooming into your sleeping form then ending the video.

Mark was quite hesitant to post it since he was never the type to post about his relationship with you. But these past few days has been hitting him differently.

He missed you so much, he swore he could go crazy. He had spent another unreasonable amount on you again. He couldn’t even sleep because you were always stuck on his mind.

He bit his lip anxiously before posting the video on his Instagram story. He noticed how your phone vibrated right when it was uploaded— you had his notifications on.

-Day 15

“So it’s gonna be forever~” you sing loudly, pointing your hairbrush to Mark who was laughing loudly through the screen.

“Or it’s gonna go down in flames…” he sings off tune.

While you were busy singing and dancing from all Taylor Swift’s song, Mark had stealthily recorded you with his phone to upload them on his private Instagram.

‘idiot. But my idiot’ he captioned before tagging you and posting it on his page.

“Sing with me, Mark!” you shout, looking at your boyfriend. “Cherry lips, crystal skies, I could show you incredible things,” you sang, pointing at Mark.

Your boyfriend blushes when he realizes you were singing to him.

You cough loudly before clearing your throat after blaring out lyrics to Taylor swift. You reach for your cup of water before gulping it down.

“What song should we sing to next?” you ask, scrolling down through you and Mark’s playlist. The both of you had shared one account ever since he found out the both of you shared the same music taste.

“Should we do a rap?” he suggests.

You smirk up at him, “oooh, because you’re a rapper, huh? Okay, okay.”

You thumb press on ‘Beauty and a Beat’ by Justin Bieber and Nicki Minaj.

“I’m a better rapper than you, Mark Lee,” you shout at your boyfriend before rapping to Nicki Minaj’s part.

It was so adorable at how you stumbled over some words, or when you had your eyebrows furrowed trying to rap to the lyrics.

At this moment, Mark thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. You had your hair tied up in the ugliest bun he has ever seen, but you looked so adorable, especially in the huge t-shirt you were wearing. But most importantly, the huge grin plastered on your lips and tint of red adorning your cheeks, puts a smile on Mark’s face.

Right when the song has ended, you let out a tired sigh, lying against your bed.

“Am I better than you, Markie?”

He bit back a smile and nodded, “you should replace me in NCT, babe,”

You pretend to think, “I should, shouldn’t I?”

-Day 7

You were talking about Mark about your friend who had pissed you off earlier today.

He shrugs, “honestly, I saw that coming. I never liked her,”

You groan, throwing your head back, “I know right,” you stress, “I should’ve listened to you,”

Mark rests his cheek against his palm, “so what are you going to do?”

You pout, “I don’t know. What should I do, Mark?”

Your boyfriend hums, thinking for a while, “I think it’s best if you cut her off. She doesn’t deserve you, babe.”

You let out an aspirated sigh, frowning. “she was just a close friend…” you trailed off sadly.

“I know, baby,” he coos, “but your mental health is important too.”

Your eyes widen cutely, “I love you,”

That caught your boyfriend off-guard, his eyes widen in awe. “w-what, don’t be weird!” he sputters out.

“You’re weird!” you bite back.

-Day 3

“Mark,” you call out, your boyfriend immediately humming. “I learnt a new tiktok dance,”

He raises his eyebrows. He has never downloaded Tiktok but he knows how much you love the app. Most of the time the both of you were calling, you would be scrolling through the app, sending him links of videos that you found funny.

It was a secret: Mark never actually watches the video. But you do not need to know that.

“Show me, baby,”

You stood up, adjusting your laptop in a decent position. You reach for your phone to play the music before you started dancing.

Mark recognized the song as Savage. It was a song that Taeyong would constantly play.

Your boyfriend’s eyes widen in bewilderment, amazed at how good you were at dancing.

“Woah, woah,” he gapes when you started throwing back.

When the song ended, you ambled towards your laptop, “how was it? Was I good? Was I as good as Taeyong and Johnny?”

He rolls his eyes at that, “do you do it to other people?”

“What?”

“The throwing back thing,”

Ah. He was jealous.

You shrug, looking away from his intense gaze, “I don’t know. I was planning to ask some of my friends about their opinion.”

“Y/N,” he says sternly.

“I was joking! Jeez. You’re such a party pooper.”

-Day 2

You laid on your side, your arm supporting your head. A movie was playing on your laptop screen but you could only stare at Mark’s face.

He was busy laughing at one of the scenes but you couldn’t focus from his handsome face.

He was wearing the ugly black glasses that he chose a few weeks ago, but he still looked so good in your eyes. His black hair was styled messily from laying around.

“Babe, are you watching?” his eyes widen cutely after sensing how quiet you were being.

“I am,” you mumble out, but your eyes never leaved your boyfriend’s screen.

“Okay,” he whispers, resting his body as he continued watching the movie that was played on the screen.

At this moment in time, you wanted to tell Mark how much you love him. You wanted to smother him in kisses.

“Mark,” you called. You realise how he had paused the movie that was playing to listen to you. “I love you,” you tell him.

Mark was frozen for a second, confused yet flustered by your sudden confusion. He smirks, playing the movie, “weirdo. I love you too, you cutie.”

-Day 1

(11:01PM) bub: babyyyy hiiiii

(11:01PM) bub: wanna call ;)

(11:05PM) bub: hello why r u not replying

(11:05PM) bub: it’s only 11 there

(11:10PM) bub: I know youre not asleep babe

(11:10PM) bub: arghhh

(11:10PM) bub: are you asleep????

(11:10PM) bub: :(

(11:10PM) bub: well ok gn bb I’ll talk to you tmr

(11:10PM) bub: love youuuu

D-DAY

You were laying on Mark’s bed restlessly, waiting for your boyfriend to reach his dorm. When you heard the door unlock, a grin spread across your lips when you saw your boyfriend walk in.

“Hi Mark,” you greet, waving at your boyfriend.

Mark looks up at you and nods, “hi y/n,” he says back before turning the other way to go to the bathroom.

You bit back a smile quietly, giving him a minute to realise. You quietly stood up by the bed to amble towards your boyfriend.

“Wait,” he pauses, turning around slowly, his eyes widening at the sight of you walking up to him, “w-what? Is this real? y/n?”

You smile at him, spreading your arms, waiting for him to tackle you in a hug. “I’m here, baby.”

“Oh my god,” he breathes out before rushing towards you to pull you against his chest. “You’re here, oh my god,”

You rest your head on his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. You’ve missed the moment for so long. For more than 3 months, you had to live without Mark’s presence.

He pulls you away, his hand gripping your shoulder tightly. “How— what are you doing here?!” he exclaims.

Your cheeks were hurting from smiling so much, “to see you, of course!”

“You surprised me!” he exclaims, pulling you in for another hug, “oh my god, you scared me so much, I love you so much. When did you get here? You didn’t answer my texts yesterday!”

“I love you too and I was in the plane, I couldn’t text you back,” you reply, however your voice was muffled by the black cotton shirt he was wearing. You pull away, looking up at him, “are you not going to kiss me?” you asked abruptly.

He looks down at you with wide eyes, “w-what. That is so sudden, don’t say that!” he stutters out, looking away from you.

You pout at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “what? I came all the way here, didn’t get enough sleep just to see my boyfriend but he won’t kiss me?”

He scowls at you, his arm dropping to rest around your waist. He leans down to connect both your lips. You felt your heart spark when you felt his lips graze against yours.

You didn’t even realise you were pulling him down even more to kiss him deeper. Mark’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling you even closer.

“Ah, the kids have finally met,” you heard someone say from behind you two.

Mark and you pull away breathlessly, his lips tinted a bright shiny red. The both of you turn around to see Taeil standing at the door.

Your boyfriend whines, “Go away, Hyung,”

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missallsundayyy · 4 years ago

Text

"You're just saying that"

ANOTHER LAWBIN DUMP BECAUSE I SHIP THEM LIKE A MAD WOMAN ITS INSANE! here is just Law being a simp for our fave straw hat archeologist, Nico Robin <3

“You’re beautiful”

“You’re just saying that”

“No Im not”

Law crawled towards Robin who was fully naked and tangled in between the sheets and smiled at her. He had a goddess on his bed and today was the last day she was going to be on his ship before she had to return to the strawhats. His head bowed and his lips connected to her long slender soft legs, he peppered kisses in a straight line and went towards her thick thighs. “You’re going back to your ship tomorrow Robin-ya” he muttered in between kisses. Robin had her head thrown back against the soft pillows with a contented sigh “Yes i do”

When it comes to pleasure build-up, there was no one better than Trafalgar Law, he made her horny beyond words and he could go for hours and hours just making sure that she was satisfied and pleasured magically. Since he was a doctor, on god he knew where all the good spots were and fuck did he rub, kiss, touch and reach all these area well. All her weak spots were mentally printed in his brain and he touched her so well because he knew her body like the back of his hand.

Law didn’t just wanted to please the historian but he worshipped the fuck out of Robin’s body. She was the definition of beauty and his ideal woman. Her hourglass figure, her large bust, her porcelain skin, her long luscious raven hair, her waist that was meant for his hands, her scent when she was turned on...oh how fucking addictive she was. He could go down on her for hours craving for more and more even when the historian was sore but no he could never get enough of her. “You make me so hard Robin-ya, you look so fucking absolutely mouth watering.” he grunt out licking her soft thick thighs in long strokes. His hands were already parting her legs wide, giving the sight he’s been craving to see. She was already dripping wet for him.

“La..law-kun...please…” Robin moaned softly, her hands reached out for his head and gripping his hair ushering his face forward to her wet core. He smirked and licked her pussy with one long and teasingly slow stroke. Her head dived deeper onto the pillow at the contact even though it was minimal. “You’re already looking so fucked out my love, did i keep you waiting that long?” He teased her by bringing one digit and plunging it into her hole without warning and going at a rough pace.

“A..ahh!” she moaned and fisted his hair roughly. Law was unrelenting; he added the second...third...and fourth digits into her wet hole that was gladly accepting his intrusion. He fucked her with his fingers hard and fast never stopping to let her adjust or catch her breath. He pulled out JUST for a second much to her dismay, her blue orbs adjusted its vision to see what her lover was doing, and his actions made her whine in lust, this man was so sexy. The feral demeanor he had and the way he was enjoying pleasuring her turned her on to the point she could feel more juices dripping out from her cunt. “Fuck.., you’re dripping onto my bedsheet and soaking it baby” he groaned and admired how wet she was for him. Law gathered his saliva in his mouth and spit it directly onto her soaking cunt “Let me make it even wetter Robin-ya” he said. He shifted his position so fast that even she didn’t see this coming, he plunged his hard cock into her with no warning again. “Ohhh my god!” Robin screamed, he filled her up so good and there was no way in hell she was going to feel this type of way with anyone else. Law was not only long but his cock was so very very big and the first time they ever did this, she was taken aback like taken aback would have been an understatement.

“Gomen I cant control my...oh fuckkk you’re so tight R-robin-ya.” Law grunted aloud, he didn’t go slow nor did he held back this time, he was going to fuck her hard and long and make sure she felt him for weeks and months until they had the opportunity to meet again. He was going to wear her out and that's exactly what he was now doing.

“La...law..please..more! I-its so so so so gooood! Ahhh ah ah” whatever words she could muster out was no incoherent, she couldn't even form any proper sentence with how good he was fucking her. His length was impressive, it hit deep and reached everything that she couldn't satisfy herself and the width...mmm she worships this man’s cock. How good his dick was and how amazing the person was as well. “C’mon use your words my love, i’m going to miss you so much and i- ergh fuck!” his hands had a tight hold on her legs, spreading as wide as he could while he fuck her into oblivion. Her large breast was now being kneaded by her hands trying to maximize her pleasure even more.

“You’re so..ahhh fucking hell….sexy. Look at you right now, i could fuck you for hours and prolong this as long as I could my love” he looked down at their connection, what an erotic sight and sound. She was squelching around him and her pussy wasn’t even trying to milk him with everything he got, their juices were mixed and was dripping out of her wet hole and cum was splashed everywhere on his sheets. Oh how he would love nothing more than to capture this image and frame it in his cabin room.

His cock went in and out of hole at a vicious pace, never giving Robin a chance at catching her breath. Everything that came out from her mouth was vulgar and sinful and only her moans and his grunts echoed throughout the bedroom. “Fuck fuck fuck you feel so good around me, gripping my cock like that...so tight like- ahhh…” he brought himself down to her chest and buried his head into her giant globes and grunt out in pleasure of her soft skin and the way her pussy was sucking his cock in.

Robin had one hand gripping his sheets and one hand clawing his back trying to hold onto him to be in sync in his monstrous pace all while he was comfortably sandwiched in between the valley of her breasts. He brought his face back up and tongued her nipples that were basically calling out for his mouth, his large hands palmed the right side of her breast while he was basically making out with the other side.

“La..law….kun...ahhh its too much...im g-gonna… ah ah ahhhh..” she screamed and clawed his back drawing blood, the pleasure he was bestowing upon her has become overwhelming. Law ceased all his actions and brought one hand and took both her arms, pinning them above her head and his other hand found her throat and gripped at it hard; now this was how he could get Robin to cum so hard because this has always been her kink, almost cutting off her oxygen intake brought her euphoric pleasure. “You cum only when I say you can love, are you forgetting that?” Law whispered in her ears, giving her a long teasing lick at her lobes.

Robin whined at the loss of his movements, his cock was still yet buried so deep in her hole and she was rocking back and forth trying to get some friction but his body weight kept her in check and she knew better in strength that she could never outmatch his strength especially in bed. “La..w….please please please please...ne-need to cu..cum!” she begged him desperately, her eyes were half lidded and both corners of her eyes were filled with tears of pleasure and desperation. He brought his face down to hers and their forehead rested against each other and he locked eyes with hers, souls intertwined and orbs connected and both of them read each other like an open book.

“You look so beautiful baby, you look so good like this…” he whispered to her, face evident with pure lust and adoration. He loved this woman and he fucking knew it, there was nobody he wanted to share such passion and connection with. He wanted to pleasure her to the point of no return, making her the happiest woman alive and he relishes in her existence. “You're gonna cum so good I promise you baby” he grunt out. With that he resumed his thrust but it was even more powerful, dominant and oh so impressive. He pounded her hard and fast fucking her stupid and passionately, he gave his 1000 percent when he do her and right now he was treating her hole unforgivingly and no mercy and she was definitely going to feel him inside her everyday. He printed and branded his cock in her pussy and there will be no other man that could be compared. She whined and moaned hotly, tongue sticking out with a string of drool at the corner of her mouth, the bed shook with the rhythm of their fuck pace. The atmosphere was hot, the air was bathed in redolence of sex and passion. Sounds of his dick going in and out of her wet hole immited sloppy wet sounds that was the focus of their hearing and the unison of their sinful moans. His grip on her throat tightened and he moaned out loud at the sight and took her mouth in his and gave her an open kiss, it was sloppy and hot, their tongues fought each other and both of them were moaning in each other’s mouth.

“Cmon, cum now baby, i can feel you squeezing me so hard, you’re so good for me”

“Law...law! Law! I ahh...ahh im go..gonn! gonna cum”

“Cum for me my love” he’s raspy voice commanded her and if she was grenade, his voice was the trigger. She was sent over the edge and everything in her felt awakened and she exploded with a scream. With his hands on her neck her voice was semi blocked but this kind of orgasm remains unmatched. Robin heard Law muttering strings of curses and swears at her orgasm, she tightened and her insides was trying to milk the fuck out of his cock.

She was sent over the edge and everything in her was awakened and she exploded with a scream. With his hands on her neck her voice was semi blocked but this kinky action always had her fucked out. She saw stars and her body was instantly taken into another universe. Her legs tightened around him and were now trembling, her body still rocking with his rampaging thrusts both rocking to the rhythm of her high.

“F-ff--fucking hell.” He grunt against her collar bones.

“La--law…” Robin whimpered softly, “Do it in me...please...i want you to cum in me and fill me up please please ple-- AHHH!” He didn’t need to be told twice, her filthy words spurred him on more and she swore he felt him getting harder.

“Fuck i- gonn...a fill you in so good..” he groaned and she captured his mouth with her open ones and their moans and grunts were drowned in the messy and sloppy wet kiss.

“Mmhmm!” Strings and strings of his load was pumping into her hole as he came the moment Robin kissed him with so much need and to simplify it….she was so fucking sexy and was the hottest woman in this god damn planet; he thought.

“Sss--so full!” she whimpered in his mouth.

Her facial expression drove him crazy, she was in a state of bliss and she was on cloud 9, only he could do her like this.

Both of them rode each other, absorbed in their high and lived for each others’ touch.

TIMESKIP

Law tossed the towel that he had used to clean Robin up into the laundry basket in his bathroom and came out to the sight of his goddess laying down peacefully. She was now looking at Law who only had a towel hugging his lower regions and she smiled, admiring his body. He was so handsome, his body was lean with the right muscles everywhere.

“You’re so handsome”

“You’re just saying that”

“No I’m not” he laughed, they were having the same conversation before their love making. He loves her. Trafalgar Law loves Nico Robin so damned much.

THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE AND READING MY FIC. DO LIKE AND REBLOG, ask me if there is anything you guys want me to write! I'm currently working on more LAWBIN. I know I've been writing them like crazy but that's because the internet doesn't have enough Lawbin and idc I will write till i'm satiated.

#one piece #trafalgar law #nico robin #lawbin #law x robin #miss all sunday #death surgeon #straw hat pirates #mugiwara #smut

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Genre: AU

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: There’s a new Spider person in town and it’s not Parker.

A/N: This is a continuation of the Parker story that I posted last year. I’m sorry to everyone who reads and likes my ff, I’m very slow when it comes to writing. I’ve been feeling down for a while and now I’ve decided to try and work on stories that I was already in the process of writing. So hopeful I’ll do better in time. Also I don’t live in NY so streets and stuff might not always be correct. Also I can’t spell half the time and spell check doesn’t always catch things and sometimes I miss words for a sentence to make sense, I never reread my writing I just didn’t in school and so I don’t really do it now, SORRY!!

You’ve reached the phone number of (Y/n) (L/n) please leave a message at the tone of the beep...

Peter groaned as he tried to reach you for the third time wondering when you will be home since you had to work on a chemistry project with him. Even though you weren’t the best in the science area you said you didn’t want Peter to do all the work on his own. You told him to come to your house around 4, but it was now 6:30 and he didn’t know when you would be home. Your aunt allowed him to stay in your room until you came back, he thought it was a little weird she didn’t really seem that worried about where you were.

As Peter looked around your room, he realized that he didn’t know that much about you. All he knows is that you transferred from a different state to New York to live with some distant relative in 8th grade. The both of you would have small encounters with just a small smile here or a quiet ‘hi’ there if you were sitting next to each other.

Then out of the blue one day during sophomore year, you just sat down at the same table as him during study hall.

---

Peter was working on his calculus homework having not finished the night before, having to focus on his chemistry homework and then having a tiny project for World History, which he had to do all by himself because no one else chose to help him out. He didn’t stress himself too much about the homework, his brain worked fast enough to understand the problems plus his class was after lunch and if he didn’t finish now he’ll just finish then. He was brought out of his thoughts of fast working math problems and numbers, when a loud thud sounded through the library and even louder when it was placed in front of him at his table. He heard the librarian shush the person from her desk.

“Sorry” the person responsible replied back loud enough for only Peter to hear.

Peter looked up to come face to face with the culprit. They looked disheveled, their hair a bit of a mess, their shirt had a couple of stains in different colors on the front. They just had a simple jean jacket covering them from the slight autumn breeze of Queens, New York. You seemed to have noticed Peter’s gaze on your face having turned towards him with a bashful expression on your face.

“Sorry, sometimes I don’t know my own strength.” you said quietly.

“No problem” Peter said with a light smile on his lips.

“I’m (Y/n)” you outstretched your hand for a shake.

“Peter” he said, grabbing your outstretched hand.

---

7:13pm

‘There seems to be no more crime happening at the moment’

“Okay, well I guess it’s time for me to head home then. At least I have far less bruises than normal so it’s not gonna be a big deal when I get home, I don’t want to have to sit through another lecture.” you rolled your eyes behind the mask on your face covering your features.

‘You seem to have missed a phone call, you have one voicemail from a Peter Parker’

“Hey (Y/n)...um I’m at your house right now waiting for you so we can work on our project. I’ve been here for about two hours now and it's getting late so I’m probably gonna end up leaving since my aunt is probably waiting for me to get home. I guess I’ll just see you tomorrow at school. Okay, bye (Y/n).”

“Crap! I forgot about the project, Peter’s probably upset with me.” you sighed and decided to call Peter.

Nothing. You called again. Nothing. Again and again. Nothing. You tried five times and he never answered, a part of you thinks he’s probably just ignoring you for standing him up. The other part worries that he could be in trouble right now. It is Queens.

“Hey Karen can you do another sweep of the city? Any type of crimes or assaults happening at the moment?” worry lacing your voice hoping nothing is or happened to Peter, sweet Peter.

‘There is no crime at the moment (Y/n)’

“Can you search for Peter Parker? Can you give me his current location?” you ask with a slight shake to your questions.

‘Peter Parker is currently on the streets of 7th and Jefferson ave’

He’s not that far away from me you thought to yourself with a sigh.

You were only a few buildings away from Peter so you lept from rooftop to rooftop, sitting nicely on top of an apartment building's roof looking down onto the passerbyers, everyone in their own world and minding their business. As you were watching everyone walk by you kept your eyes open for Peter, even though he did look like every normal teenage boy with brown curly hair from atop, he did have little charms on his backpack; for one being a Ironman POP! Figure keychain for the opening of the big pocket.

---

You were walking down the halls of Midtown trying to find your locker on the first day of sophomore year. It was kinda difficult with everyone walking to and fro not minding you any time or stepping out of the way just a little.

‘Rude’

Just as you found your locker someone ran into you causing you to drop the notebooks and textbooks out of your arms, dropping to the floor with a loud thud. You just scuffed yourself and chose to open your locker first so you don’t have to deal with the weight in your arms. After trying your combination for a third time and nothing happening, you just leaned your head against the metal doors and just sighed out through your nose to try and keep yourself calm and not cause tears or your fist to hit the metal.

“Um...sorry to bother you, but do you need help?” Someone beside you asked timidly and quietly.

You looked up from the floor being face to face with someone who was kneeling beside you on the ground stacking some of your textbooks onto each other. He was a boy around your age with a delicate sprinkle of freckles dotting his face. He had glasses on the bridge of his nose and eyes that looked to be brown colored, but it wasn’t his eye color it was the way his eyes looked at you that drew you in a bit. He looked a bit like a deer in headlights mixed with puppy dog eyes that were just looking into yours with some concern and maybe embarrassment coming in since you were taking a long time to answer him and was just staring at a stranger.

You blinked out of your stupor and smiled at him and asked if he could try and place your locker combination for you. Because if you tried one more time and it didn’t work you might actually punch it. The boy smiled at you and was able to open your locker for you and helped hold half the textbooks.

“Thank you for helping me, since everyone else chooses to be rude.” You grumbled out the last bit.

The boy just smiled at you and said it was no problem and then he walked away probably to meet up with his friend.

---

7:35pm

You still haven’t seen Peter walking anywhere and you were just about to give up and head home when Karen alerted you to a crime in progress.

‘There is a mugging in progress two blocks from here in an alley behind a deli’

You rushed over to the position that Karen sent you and hoped that it wasn’t Peter. Well, it was Peter sadly who was on the ground and shaking with his backpack ripped open and the contents spilling out. The thug was pointing a knife at Peter and yelling at him for money.

Deciding that now was the time to intervene you shot a web to the thugs knife and yanked it out of his grasp.

“You know you shouldn’t be pointing sharp objects at people, what would your grandma have to say?”

Honestly you had to roll your eyes a bit, really (y/n)? His grandma?

You jumped down from the balcony of an apartment and landed in front of Peter blocking him from view. You rose to your full height and placed your hands on your hips, cocking to the right a bit. You turned your head to look at Peter making sure he was okay and safe for the moment, he wasn’t shaking anymore which was good, but he now was just staring wide eyed at you.

“Are you okay?” You asked him

He just nodded his head then looked to your left and pointed a finger, presumably at the thug. When your spider senses went off you just lifted both hands and grasped the thug's arm and flipped him over onto his back making him gasp for air. You then webbed him up to the balcony and had Karen call the cops.

When you were done you walked back over to Peter and knelt down to help grab his stuff off the ground and place them back into his backpack. You then held out your hand to help lift Peter off the ground. When Peter placed his hand in your grasp you might have pulled a little more than you meant causing Peter to collide with your chest and moving your arm to his waist making sure he was stable.

You both stood still in the position for a few seconds before breaking apart chuckling awkwardly. Peter rubbed his neck and you just held your hands behind your back. The silence was starting to become suffocating, so you were about to ask Peter if he wanted a ride home, but he broke the silence first.

“Thank you for what you did earlier.” Peter said quietly

“Eh, it’s no problem.” You shrugged off

You both still stood there not knowing what else to say at the moment. So Peter just took that as a cue to leave since he started to walk out the alley. That prompted you to remember what you were thinking earlier.

“Hey!” You called out to Peter

He stopped in his spot and turned around facing you.

“Would you like a ride? Or even a walking companion?”

Peter just smiled at you showing that the requests weren’t weird to him so you started to walk towards him.

“I could use a walking companion. I would take the ride suggestion, but I’m pretty sure you mean swinging on webs about 15ft or more in the sky away from the ground and I already have a bad fear of heights.” Peter rambled out

You just chuckled to yourself and walked next to him prompting the both of you to walk in silence for a while.

“So what were you doing walking by yourself? It’s never a good idea to be by yourself, especially if you don’t have some type of weapon.” You questioned

Peter didn’t answer right away so you turned to look at him and he was looking at the ground with a slight pout to his mouth. You already know he’s gonna say it was because you never showed up at your own house.

“Well I was supposed to work on a school project with a classmate at her house, but she never showed up for some reason and I was there for about three hours and I told my aunt and uncle I would be home around 8 so I just decided to leave hoping to make it home before it was really dark out. Then I was cleaning my glasses and they dropped, so I had to pull a Velma from Scooby-Doo and look for my glasses. I think the thug was hiding behind the trash or something.” Peter spoke while still looking towards the ground.

You could tell that you not showing up really hurt him, he probably thought you were just using him for a good grade and lied or something.

“Looks like I’ll be doing the project by myself like usual. I just thought that I made a friend, especially for that class since my friend Ned doesn’t share it with me.”

“Well I’m sure she didn’t bail on purpose. Maybe something she accidentally forgot.” You tried to save yourself from looking bad in Peter’s eyes.

Peter just shrugged his shoulders and the conversation ended since apparently you ended up outside of Peter’s apartment. You both turned to each, having yet another awkward silence between the both of you. You took the silence to look at Peter’s features which looked softened in the moonlight, but also harsh with the fluorescent lighting of street lamps. As you were getting lost in Peter’s details Karen rang in your ears telling you that your aunt wants you home in the next 20 minutes or you’re grounded.

“Um well Peter I got to leave, but I hope you have a good evening.” and then you salute in a flirty way at least you hope it came off like that.

As you swung off into the night, heading home to finally relax; Peter was eating dinner with his family and as he was slowly chewing his chow mein he realized what was bugging him for the past 15 minutes, he never gave you his name. He was both curious and a bit worried, worried that you might have been following for a while before tonight and curious because if you weren’t a stalker which he decided to rule out since you have to protect Queens; that means you probably know him from somewhere else. And Peter was going to find out where.

#Marvel #Marvel imagine #MCU #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spider-man #spider-woman #spider-man au #marvel fanfiction

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amyygdalaaa · 4 years ago

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Okay fanfiction appreciation time

Okay so I'm in the mood to be appreciative so I'm gonna appreciate some of @helenamayhathaway 's Sope fics BECAUSE THEY'RE LITERALLY AMAZING LIKE IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THEM I SUGGEST READING THEM YOU WON'T BE DISAPPOINTED

*deep breath*

Is this going to be my last time expressing my appreciation for this specific ff author because I probably sound weird or annoying or smth? Hell nah. This author is one of my absolute favorites I'll never let her forget it. Helena, if you see this, love you <3

1) Sleep - This is one of the first fics of hers that I read. I remember being in a super boring class, and just having gotten caught up with The Bachelor(s), but I still had like half an hour left of this class with nothing to do. So, having immensely enjoyed The Bachelor(s), I decided to check out her amazing, lovely profile. This was the first fic that caught my eye, because I'm a sucker for Royalty AUs. Y'all, I don't think I was ever the same after reading that fic. I think I read it multiple times on that same day, because it was just that cute. I really love Sope's banter in it, the way they're so comfortable with each other and it had the cutest fucking ending. To this day, I don't think I've read a fic that stood out to me the way this one has. If I'm having a bad day, sometimes I'll return to this one because it has never failed to put a smile on my face. I do believe this is the first time I experienced the phenomenon of not being able to leave Kudos twice. 57/10- definitely recommend.

2) The Ongoing Struggles Of Being A Mall Gay - I also read this one in a boring class. Because what else is there to do besides reading good fanfiction instead of paying attention in Chem? I found this one equally cute as I did funny. Hoseok and Jimin's friendship was really sweet, and I love their little Bangtan mall family. The pining, the buildup to when the two idiots finally get together (and Hoseok realizes that he's terrible at assuming ages) is just too, too perfect goddamnit I love this fic so much. I love the inclusion of the Build-A-Bear setting as Hoseok's place of work because (unless I'm really bad at interpreting and she just really likes Build-A-Bear) that's where the author works and fsr I just really love it when writers include some of their real life attributes into their works. In all, very cute fic- 57/10.

3) Red - What can I say about this fic? It's a very cute little ficlet. I'm not super into soulmate AUs, but this one was different. When I got an email that she had released this one, I couldn't help but smile because this was so different and I loved it. I love how the setting is so casual, nothing super special- just two dudes in a coffee shop. Hoseok following his red string and finding Yoongi, and then when it ended I kept scrolling (like an idiot) because it just ended there what happens next I want to know. I still want to know. But it's okay I will assume that they had a very awkward beginning and then became sickeningly cute and everything worked out and everyone was happy for them :))))))). Another 57/10.

Woah this is a pretty long rant and it took a good 35 minutes to type out so if none of you check them out then I will be sad. The point is, @helenamayhathaway is one of the most talented fanfiction authors I've had the pleasure of reading and I always get excited when I see that she's posted something new. Please go check her out and send her some love and tell me you hate Producer Dad it's the only acceptable answer on your opinion of him.

Okay bye I'm very tired, please remember to check out her fics and show her some love please and thank you!

#sope #bts #j-hope #bts j-hope #hobi #hoseok #yoongi #min yoongi #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts sope #sope fanfiction #helenamayhathaway #yoonseok #yoonseok fanfiction #fanfiction #ao3

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gryffindormischief · 4 years ago

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sunlight | part 2/3

A/N: for the lovely amazing wonderful @fightfortherightsofhouseelves‘s birthday.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

FF // Ao3

___

Ginny’s jogging toward the bedroom, fresh from the shower, when she hears the grating vibration of metal against wood. She turns just in time to see her slim, button free mobile vibrates itself off the edge of her kitchen table. Which would inevitably lead to a swift and painful death for said phone.

Luckily her skills transfer from the pitch and she darts across the room to grab it mid-drop with only a minor nip-slip in the process. Another bit of luck is the fact that she has no gawking audience to view the slip. Or perhaps it’s not quite luck - she’d tried hard enough to convey her desire for some very deliberate and mutual slipping off of clothing the previous evening, but Harry’s either completely oblivious or scared out of his wits.

Maybe it’s both. He did get a little bit of a deer-in-the-headlights look when she took off her tights in an innocent ‘let’s sit and goof off chatting’ way. It was equal parts adorable and frustrating.

She notes the large nosed caricature of Ron - artistry courtesy of George - and manages to answer before it goes to voicemail. “Ro- ”

“Where the bloody hell do you come off Ginny?”

“I’m not really sure what you could be referencing. Is this about me cancelling? I mean, you’re welcome for coming home on holiday to make party favors for your damn wedding.”

“First, you can’t pull that if you didn’t actually do any work and second, don’t play dumb,” Ron growls, definitely firmly in the enraged ‘you ate the last bit of my birthday cake’ territory rather than the ‘sore loser after family quidditch’ vein. Normally when Ginny’s in this type of tiff with Ron, she 100% knows who, what, when, where, and why.

It’s a bit unsettling to be completely in the dark.

“I was half between sarcasm and genuinely asking Ron,” Ginny shoots back, resuming her post-shower dressing. “You’re being rude.”

“I am being rude Ginny? I - I, Ron Weasley, am the one being rude?”

Wow he’s really off the deep end. And apparently does not appreciate being told so because Ginny gets some almost incoherent swearing in response to her kind observation.

When his fuming calms, Ron decides to be reasonable, or at the very least realizes that venting specifics is much more of a release. Honestly Ginny’s a bit curious so she doesn’t really tease as much as she might on your average sibling banter-fight day.

“This is my wedding.”

“And Hermione’s, but sure, yeah, I’m tracking with you.”

“And you know that Harry, Harry my best mate and all around great bloke, has feelings for you. I’m dull about feelings, but even I can see when a poor slob is pining over a bird. And I know you’re going to say you had your ‘mutual’ agreement about ‘timing being off’ for you two or some bull.”

That one stumps her. As far as Ginny’s aware, she and Harry and whatever they’ve beeb up to writing letters and chatting on the phone has been very much kept quiet. It’s been less than twenty-four hours that they’ve even been in the same city, and they definitely have never discussed logistics of what any of this means.

“You know all of that crap and yet you dump the wedding prep plans and rub your little sultry tryst in all of our faces - including Harry’s!” Ron finishes, shrill tone rivaling Molly Weasley after discovering her washing hung out to dry had been used as pseudo quidditch hoops.

While Ron continues his rant, which at this point will almost surely be variations on the information she’s already gathered from the conversation, Ginny really tries to organize it all into some coherent narrative. Ron adds something about ‘almost ruining family Christmas breaking hearts’ last year and if possible she’s more confused.

Last Christmas was pretty enjoyable overall. The usual family, food, gifts, and loads of firewhiskey. Harry was looking adorably awkward in that ‘I don’t know how gorgeous I am’ way of his and he was the first person she told about making Captain which - oh .

Oh poor, stupid idiot Harry and his obnoxious hero complex.

“ - and plus you didn’t even pretend you ate the scones I sent for your birthday!”

The picture of the glorious shade of vermillion that must be spreading up the back of Ron’s neck and ears is pretty much automatically called to mind when she hears that hoarse tone in his voice. But she really needs to end this call and prepare for giving Harry a good tongue lashing and then hopefully... a good tongue lashing .

The front door swings open and jars Ginny from her combined plotting-daydreaming train of thought and Harry tosses his keys to the side, free arm holding a large bag of what smells like fresh baked goods and a copy of the Prophet held between his lips.

Which, gross. Also there are much better things he can do with those lips. She’s got firsthand knowledge at this point. Ron’s got to be stopped and the time for polite niceties has passed.

“Ron, have a cuppa, snog Hermione, look at pictures of the Canons,” she ignores his indignant ‘Oi!’ and continues, “Do whatever you want, except call me. I’m busy.”

“With your little boy toy!”

“Bye Ron.”

Once she’s sure the call is well and truly disconnected, Ginny turns her attention to Harry who has dropped the paper on the table and begun unpacking delicious smelling fresh bagels from the brown bag.

A quick glance at the paper previously held between Harry’s lips reveals a slightly blurred but easily identifiable photo of her snogging her ‘little boy toy’ up against a brick wall near Harry’s flat.

A brick wall she became very familiar with last night.

“We were caught,” Ginny says while Harry disappears in the kitchen.

After some drawer and cabinet slamming and the sound of the kettle flicking on, Harry returns and grins. “Actually you were caught. They’ve got no idea who your, and I quote, ‘tall, dark, and mysterious stranger is.’”

“Don’t preen; they specifically left out the handsome bit,” Ginny grumbles, tearing her bagel into bite-sized chunks while Harry carefully slices his in half.

“It’s implied.”

“It’s only a matter of time before they put two and two together,” Ginny says after a moment, “That’s not even three blocks from your flat.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you were the one who got caught.”

Ginny winks, “Yeah, but I caught you, didn’t I?”

Groaning, Harry throws his head back, “Gross. Is that a pick up line? Is this what you were doing at ‘spring training’ with the Harpies?”

“Only after lights out - we’ve got a rep on and off the field.”

“Which one includes terrible pick up lines?” Harry asks with a snort.

At some point she’s going to have to broach the subject, get down to it and all that. But the flirting is so much easier it’s kind of nerve wracking to leave it behind. The minute she brings it up it’s all real. Which is good - that’s what she wants. She’s just got to pluck up the nerve and get it done since Harry clearly isn’t planning on it any time in the next century.

After tossing her napkin at Harry’s forehead with professional grade accuracy, thank you very much, Ginny shoves the conversation in her preferred direction. “Apparently, you told me I ‘caught’ you last Christmas…” She pauses and Harry freezes a bit, more of the deer thing, so she clarifies, “told me you had feelings for me. Romantic ones.”

In one of his oddest moves yet, Harry decides, apparently, to just not respond. So Ginny lets it sit for a few moments while her heart lodges itself firmly in her throat.

Until finally she can’t bear it and prompts in a hoarse tone, “An answer would be good. Anytime you’re ready.”

And when he continues to studiously examine the patterns his knife leaves in the cream cheese, Ginny clears her throat and supplies, “Yeah, and apparently ‘we’ decided that it just wasn’t the right time for you and me.”

Harry finally speaks, low but without hesitation, “Well it wasn’t.”

Oh if there’s one thing that shoves Ginny firmly from the ‘nervous about feelings’ territory into indignant rage it’s Harry being obtuse. She grunts and rips into another piece of bagel. “We did not decide that.”

“I was planning to - remember we both had things to say?”

“When I made captain.”

Sighing, Harry pushes back his chair and disappears into the kitchen, presumably in response to the shrill squeal of the kettle. He returns with two steaming mugs and the scent of bergamot on the air. “I wasn’t going to mess that up.”

Ginny quirks her brow. “Right. Because I can’t date you and play quidditch.”

Harry lets out a quiet chuckle and ruffles his hair. “I mean I’m a handful you don’t even know yet.”

“If you’re talking about your little bum cheeks, I can handle them just fine,” Ginny stares off, a bit distant in her daydream.

“Oi! Little!” Harry slaps his mug down on the table so his tea nearly sloshes over the lip.

Nodding, Ginny continues, “Like two halves of a quaffle just waiting to be handled by an expert.”

“Oh, is Gwenog here?”

“Oh you are dead,” Ginny says around the rim of her mug.

Harry thrusts his finger at her, “You can’t be mean to me,” he pouts, “I’m very fragile - remember what Ron said.”

Once she’s shoved their dishes aside, Ginny props her hip on the table so she’s settled right where Harry can’t look away. “Ron said you're a self sacrificing arse who never puts his own happiness first, which ends up with you being an idiot and not making an idiot woman who loves you back very happy.”

In the wake of her jibe-accusation-what have you, Harry pauses, nibbles at the corner of his lip, and doesn’t stall per se. It’s a weighing of words, maybe some confusion that Ginny’s just declared her love for him which if she’s honest was a bit of a surprise to her as well. Not the feeling but the declaring part.

Eventually, Harry says, “I feel like he didn't say all that.”

“I ad libbed, but the sentiment was the same.”

Harry’s full on smirking now and she either wants to smack or snog him. “Was it now?”

It’s still a damn toss up.

Despite her posturing and overall blustering demeanor, Ginny does have her doubts. Again, not about the whole feelings thing on her side. But about whether it’s - reciprocated. She lowers her gaze and fiddles with her cuticles. “Yes. It was.”

After scooting forward so his chest is bracketed by her knees, Harry tucks his face against her ribcage and murmurs, “How do I make up for it?”

Ginny’s hands rise, almost unbidden, and knit through his windblown locks. “Doing those wedding favors was a good start.”

“And the snogging?”

She weighs the proposition before deciding. “Too mutually enjoyable.”

Harry tilts his head backward and grins. “You enjoyed then.”

“Eh.”

“Perhaps part two?”

#blarg writes things #blarg writes hinny #blarg writes sunlight #hinny au fic #hinny au #hinny fic #Harry Potter x ginny weasley #sunlight part 2

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marcholasmoth · 3 years ago

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OSRR: 2543

oh my god i am dead and my throat is sore because i just dictated probably three thousand words to my computer instead of typing because i couldn't fuckin think through sticking my fingies on buttons and pressing them over and over again.

but! i have the majority of a first draft of my capstone paper! hooray!

my friend hannah sat and listened to me for two hours earlier as i struggled to get things out in words, and we went along and she was able to understand what i was talking about in context, and i need to say that i'm both incredibly proud of her for being able to pick up so much with her meds worn off and her brain half asleep, as well as proud of myself for being able to explain it to someone with limited math and no physics knowledge. so props for both of us ig.

tomorrow is my grandma's birthday, but i dont know if i'll be able to go in the morning because of (1) paper and (2) appointment with dr. noah to discuss it. but i should send to him what i have so he has it so we can talk about it in the morning instead of needing to wait for him to read through it at that very moment and wasting time for both of us.

okay.

so.

today was a decent day. i woke up to sunlight outside!!

i found some new songs i like!

i talked to FF about tv shows to watch, and i made a list of ones they recommended. it made me really happy to get to talk to them. it's nice.

when i was done talking to hannah this evening, it was around 11:15 so joel and i went on an adventure to get food bc we were both hungy. i love spending time with him, even when our adventure goes awry when most of the places that should be open are closed.

i finally got to wash my hair for the first time since dyeing it and it was so nice to have clean hair and a clean scalp. i still have dye on my scalp, and i'd like to get that out sooner than later, but for the moment it is what it is and i'll leave it that way for a while.

in the meantime, i'm glad i took my meds late today, otherwise i would've been asleep at midnight and i was still out at midnight.

also i saw the coolest thing earlier - as i was almost at joel's, i was driving south on the road that, were it to continue all the way to the runway for the airport, would be a straight shot all the way down. so i was driving south, and the moon was directly overhead, and a plane came flying right over me and how it was illuminated above the trees and in front of the moon was something magical. it was really spectacular.

i'd like to do a set of paintings or something about driving at night. i see so many beautiful things when i'm driving in the dark, whether it's a shot like that, or a shot of a rain-slicked highway with the jersey barrier and pavement reflecting lights from the cars on the other side. or like yesterday, when i watched the sky alighting itself as rain fell unrepentant.

god i love writing. that blurb i wrote yesterday should be on our discord's star board but the star board stopped working correctly a few days ago.

once i'm done with my capstone and the matlab assignments that i need to finish (christ i haven't even thought about the matlab, shit), i'm gonna try to finish writing the fic i've been working on for four fucking years. smh.

anyway, i'm fuckin' beat.

#molly rambles #operation srr #osrr #2000s #2500s #sunshine boy #ffs ff love me pls

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gingerchangeling · 5 years ago

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That Most Common Of Afflictions

This is my story to match the wonderful board done by @imagnifika for the @csrolereversal Valentine's Day event.

Enjoy!

On Ao3 and FF and Tumblr

Emma know she has a letter for a standard parent teacher conference. Emma knows that the dreaded Valentine's Day is quickly approaching. What Emma doesn't know is exactly how intertwined those two facts of life are going to become.

Emma winced as she looked over the envelope. She’d been avoiding it since she’d seen it among the bills and pointless ads a couple days after Christmas. The school logo conveniently printed across it, warning her away from opening it.

But with Henry going back to school after the weekend, she couldn’t put it off any longer. It had been looming in the corner of her vision from the innocuous corner of the bar where she’d tossed it after deciding not to open it. But the time had now come.

After a few glasses of wine and a couple pieces of chocolate to fortify herself for what the letter might contain, she finally opened it. She expected to find an politely worded passive aggressive note reminding her that her parent volunteer hours had not been filled yet or that the administration was now requiring that the tissues they used had to be a certain brand, like they required for his uniform and socks and shoes and binders and paper. It was getting ridiculous.

But when she finally got the page unfolded she was very much surprised.

To All Parents,

I do hope that you had a lovely holiday season. Alas, vacation cannot last forever and soon a new semester must commence.

Emma blinked as she took in the words typed across the page. It was like she was reading some weird Pride and Prejudice knock off. She took a large sip of wine before she continued.

And thus, my point for writing. The administration has decided to institute a new practice. Because your student has completed half of their academic year, their strengths and points of focused study-

Emma snorted into her glass. How diplomatic.

-have become apparent. So the administration has suggested that as this new term begins, we the teachers meet individually with the parent(s) or guardian(s) of our students to discuss their progress in their studies and what areas that they might assist their studies going forward. Therefore I’ve taken the liberty of setting a schedule to meet with each of you individually. If the date and time I’ve penciled you in is not convenient for you, please contact me and I’ll reschedule with you.

Therefore, I eagerly await meeting with you to discuss your amazing student. I look forward to meeting with you on Friday, January 31, at 7:00 pm.

Sincerely and with great anticipation,

Killian Jones

Emma leaned back. Emma only knew of Mr. Jones from Henry's barely coherent ramblings when he gave his daily report of all the great happenings that could rock the world of a ten year old. But from what he told her, Mr. Jones was something of a mix between Jack Sparrow and Mr. Darcy.

With great anticipation, indeed.

Emma cursed under her breath as she hurried down the hallway, doing her best to ignore the mild PTSD that the smell of carpet cleaner and exhausted wall was triggering. No matter how old she was, she could not forget that scent. To stave off the memories, she put the odor out of her mind as she reviewed her appearance.

Her hair was half up, she was sure her eyeliner was smeared, and she was still wearing half of Leroy’s beer, an accessory she’d acquired when she’d had to remove him bodily from the Rabbit Hole. Again.

And she was late to her quasi-parent teacher conference.

She rapidly rounded a corner and nearly collided headlong with Mary Margaret.

Henry’s old teacher was a woman who seemed to have made it her life’s mission to ensure that the prickly loner with a vibrant son was well entrenched into Storybrooke society. Mary Margaret was actually the reason that she was Sheriff. She's introduced Emma to her husband David, who’d been sheriff himself at that time, and he’d given her a job as a deputy. And when David had decided to step down to help care for Mary Margaret and their newborn son, he promoted her to sheriff and not a single person in town objected except Leroy. But Emma figured it was because she was a bit more liberal in her use of handcuffs than David had been.

“Emma!” she exclaimed, “What are you doing here? Did Henry forget something? You could have just asked me to pick it up for you!”

“Mary Margeret, I’d love to chat, but I’m supposed to be in the weird not parent-teacher conference and I’m already late, so…”

“Oh! You’re Killian’s last meeting? That’s perfect, I actually needed to grab some materials from his classroom. I’ll walk with you.”

And just like that, Mary Margaret looped her arm through Emma’s and leisurely guided her down the hall to the classroom at the very end. Emma hesitated a moment, but Mary Margaret continued forward without missing a step and knocked on the wood frame of the doorway.

A muffled “Aye?” reached them.

“Killian?” Mary Margaret stepped through the doorway, dragging Emma along behind her with a well constructed glare when she noticed Emma hanging back. Emma stepped into the classroom and had to admit that she was impressed by the order of the classroom. Not bad for teaching ten year olds.

“Just a mo’, love!” Emma’s eyes flicked over to the source of the voice and had to momentarily remind herself that drooling would be unprofessional, despite the almost absurd cut of his slacks over his ass as he rummaged for something in the storage closet.

That was certainly not something she was anticipating.

She’d psyched herself up to have to deal with a leering old man trying to get in good with the single mom because he’s watched one too many pornos. The broad back and muscled shoulders that straightened up from the closet as those delightful slacks slid over his backside was not the profile that she was prepared to deal with. Especially when he reached out to the side to close the closet, taking a step back to allow the door to swing shut, and Emma caught sight of his rolled up white dress shirt sleeves.

“Sorry love, I was just getting some material set up for tomorrow. Bloody inconsiderate, not calling ahead to let-”

She couldn’t help it. She cleared her throat, suddenly having a very hard time swallowing as she listened to the rough timbre of his brogue. Maybe she was the one who had watched one too many pornos. At her sound though, he whipped around.

Oh dear god.

Waaaaaay too many pornos.

His tie was pulled loose, black hair in disarray, ice blue eyes widened in surprise, stubble-cover jaw slack as he registered that he was not alone with his co-worker. A moment later a violent blush overtook his face as his back snapped straight, practically jumping to attention as he hastily shoved the knot of his tie up toward his throat.

“Oh! Uh-” he snapped his mouth shut, clearing his own throat, “Ah-” His face grew even redder and his hand slid from the knot of his tie up to rub behind his ear.

Emma was trying to cope with the sudden flare of indignation at his comment and the sudden flare of…. not indignation. She was trying very hard not to put a name to the long lost but not forgotten sensation and so was in no state to break the increasingly awkward silence.

Mary Margaret, in a rare moment, seemed to read the room quickly and jumped in to fill the thickening silence.

“Killian, let me introduce to you one of my closest friends, Emma Swan. Emma,” Mary Margaret turned to look at her, and Emma caught a concerning glimmer in her eye, “this is Mr. Jones, Henry’s teacher.”

The formal introduction seemed to give him the direction he needed, and he seemed to compose himself enough to get control of his face and an easy smile slid across his lips.

“Ms. Swan, the pleasure is all mine.” He strode towards them from the back of the classroom, offering her his hand.

His movement forward was enough to jar Emma from her stupor. She reached out her own hand, forcing her face into a not-quite-scowl, raising an eyebrow at him, “Mr. Jones. It’s… nice to meet you as well.”

His face reddened slightly again, but he kept his composure as he turned to Mary Margaret, “I’ve your materials set out in the back.”

Mary Margaret brightened, “Oh! Wonderful! Thank you Killian.”

He waved away her thanks, “Think nothing of it, love.” As Mary Margaret stepped around him towards the back, he gestured, “Ms. Swan, if you’d like to sit down?”

Emma turned to follow his gesture and saw a chair set in front of the teacher’s desk. Apparently school furniture design had not changed all that much in the years that had passed since she’d been in school. She refused to look back at him as she made her way towards it, a mumbled “thank you” all she offered as she stepped past him. She ignored the dark musky scent of something that was uniquely manish and the smell of his deodorant that assaulted her as she did.

She felt him follow a step behind her, but ignored him in favor of settling herself in the stiff, very uncomfortable chair as Mr. Jones seated himself behind the desk.

Henry’s teacher. Henry’s teacher. Henry’s teacher.

She repeated the mantra in her head as she met made eye contact, forcing herself into apathy, despite the veritable Adonis that was settling himself in front of her. Soon he stilled and abruptly the eye contact they had suddenly acquired a tense charge. She didn’t think she’d ever physically experience the phenomenon of sexual tension, but here she was looking at the god sitting across the desk from her, and she felt the weight of the air around them pressing down on her skin.

But then a muffled thud sounded from the back of the classroom and she was jarred into action.

“So, Henry?”

The name of her son worked an abrupt change over his behavior. His posture relaxed and a soft smile settled over his features as he leaned back slightly.

“Aye. Your son is a remarkable young man Ms. Swan, I must say. He’s been a pleasure to have in my class since day one.”

She felt herself swell with pride at his praise, “He really is something isn’t he?”

Mr. Jones gave her a soft smile, “Aye he is. He’s smart, quick to pick up the nuances of the lessons, and always a bright influence on his peers.”

Emma nodded, not at all surprised by the praise that Henry was receiving. He was always a favorite with his teachers, his earnest love of learning as blatant as his sincere smile. So she was surprised when Mr. Jones’ face turned stern.

“However, he’s run into some issues as of late.”

Emma was immediately on alert. “What do you mean?” she asked sharply.

He seemed to anticipate the concern that his comment would cause, because he continued mildly, “It’s nothing nefarious. But his grades have been slipping.”

Emma’s brow’s furrowed, “How’s that possible? I look over his homework every night to make sure he’s done it all. And I know he has an almost perfect attendance record. Is there something wrong? Is he being bull-”

“Nothing is the matter!” He hurried, his face turning red once again, “I’m sorry I should have led with that. No, everything is fine.”

“Then what, exactly, is the problem?”

A small smile slid across Mr. Jones’s face, “Your boy is simply suffering that most common of afflictions.” Emma raised a brow, and his smile widened, his own brow raising in response. “I don’t know if you are aware Ms. Swan, but we’ve had a new student join our class this semester, a charming young lass by the name of Violet. And your son seems to have taken quite a shine to her.”

It took a moment for her to process before, “Wait……. are you saying Henry is failing because he has a crush?”

Mr. Jones winced, “He’s not failing in any sense, he just gets a bit… distracted. But it is causing a bit of a drop in his grades, and I, and you as well, know that he can do better than the work he’s currently been turning in.”

Emma sat back, biting at her lip, nearly missing the quick flick of Mr. Jones’s eyes down to her lips before glancing down at the paperwork she was only just now noticing was littered across his desk. Although, littered probably wasn’t the right word. It was evident that the small stacks of paper were each in their correct place, not even a stray pen marring the order of his desk.

He grabbed the piece of paper from the top of the stack to his left, “I’m aware that they’ve had very few assignments turned in at this point in the semester, so the report card that the school wanted me to hand out seemed irrelevant, so rather than waste any more trees, I’ve set up a sort of comparative report.”

He offered the page to her, and as she shifted forward to grab it, she was abruptly brought back onto the range of whatever ...manly musk that surrounded him. It was mouthwatering. Just like the rest of him.

Henry’s teacher. Henry’s teacher. Henry’s teacher.

She leaned back and stared hard at the page, trying to reign herself in. But as her eyes focused on the page, she took in the short and neat spreadsheet, with brief notes, summarizing Henry's performance last semester in each of his classes at that same point in the year that they were in now. Her gaze traced the little graph he’d provided at the bottom, and against her will, she found herself very impressed with the amount of effort he’d clearly put in to making these meetings as helpful as possible.

“As you can see, Henry’s level is not nearly the same as it was last semester. And while he is still at a much higher level than most of his peers, I know that this is not the best that he can do.”

Emma wanted to snap at him, but as she looked over the last month of Henry's progress, she knew that he was right. So instead she sighed, “Well, what should I do about it?”

Mr. Jones’s smile slid off his face and he looked at her steadily, “I’m not quite sure. This situation is addressed differently, depending on the person. As his mother, I thought it best to bring it to your attention, as you would know best how to speak to him about it.”

Emma dropped her head, pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried to accept the reality that was her son’s grade school teacher telling her that she needed to speak to her son about romances and crushes. She was probably the least qualified person Henry knew to be discussing the appropriate ways to handle infatuations. His existence was proof of that.

She raised her head, meeting his eye again, “Alright, thank you for bringing it to my attention.” She tried to keep the exhaustion out of her voice, but by the way his brows furrowed and the concerned look that settled over his face, she was obviously less than successful.

“You know,” Mary Margaret’s voice made Emma jump slightly. She’d forgotten that the other woman was there. “There is another way of addressing the situation.

Emma twisted in her seat to glare at her friend over her shoulder. Mary Margaret was apparently too far gone though, because she kept going despite the murderous look Emma was leveling at her.

“Is there?” Mr. Jones’s voice was completely flat, and she got the impression he was just about as glad for the unsolicited input.

Mary Margaret nodded, moving towards the front of the room, hands full of what looked like crafting materials. “Yeah! See the best way to address a problem, at least for me, is to face the problem head on. And maybe Henry should do the same. Address his crush head on, and that might be just the thing!”

Emma managed to keep herself from rolling her eyes, but just barely. Sometimes she still wondered how she and Mary Margaret were still friends.

She opened her mouth to tell her friend that while her advice was appreciated, could she not interrupt private parent teacher conferences? But before she could get the words out of her mouth, Mr. Jones spoke from behind her.

“You know-” he paused as she whipped her head around, taking in his posture, leaning back in his chair, fingers playing ever so enticingly with his stubble. “You may have a point there, love.”

“You cannot be serious.”

Mr. Jones raised an eyebrow at her as he sat forward, setting his elbows on the desk and resting his chin on his crossed hands. “Aye, I am. I think that addressing the issue in a forthright manner may be the best way to face the situation for the lad.”

“I’m sorry,” she snapped, suddenly wildly frustrated with the situation. “Were you not literally just telling me that as his mother I would know best?”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement, “Aye, and I stand by that. However, as I was once a wee lad with a crush meself, I do think that I might have a bit of... shall we say, authority on the issue. And I recall that the issue was often alleviated after talking to the lass for a bit.”

Emma scoffed and crossed her arms, “Alright, what do you suggest oh wise one?”

His frown deepened and for a long moment, his eyes just flickered over her face, like he was looking for something. Then Mary Margaret again jumped in, “Oh I know! Valentine's Day is just around the corner! Wouldn’t it be romantic if he did some big gesture to sweep her off her feet?”

While she had to suppress a shiver of absolute disgust, Emma didn’t bother turning around or biting her tongue this time. “Mary Maragert, they are literally ten years old. The only thing that they should be sweeping is the dirt that they track into the house while playing in the mud looking for worms.”

Mr. Jones’ lips ticked up, but he continued on, “I do have several activities planned for that week in class. It might not be a bad time to arrange it so they have some time together.”

“Activities?” Her voice was almost a growl, but he seemed unfazed.

“Aye, that week happens to correspond with the week that we are discussing the Golden Age of the Caribbean Pirates in the late 17th century. Perhaps we could set up some games and other little projects that incorporated the Valentine's Day theme into the curriculum. It would be a prime opportunity for -”

But Emma had had enough. She shot out of her chair, abruptly silencing Mr. Jones, and barely managed to reign in her frustration. “Thank you for your input on Henry’s education. I will speak to him in regards to his distraction in class. It will be taken care of.” She turned to march out, but as always, her mouth just had one more thing to say. She jerked back around to him, still sitting shell-shocked in his seat. “And seriously, forcing a holiday down kids’ throats that only promotes capitalism and sex? Really?”

And without giving him an opportunity to respond, she marched out the classroom door, fuming.

Emma waited until Sunday afternoon to talk to Henry about it. She hadn’t wanted to say anything when she’d gotten back from the meeting, still too infuriated to talk to Henry about something that delicate, continually exacerbated by Mary Maragret trying to call her every half hour. Then Saturday had dawned and he’d wanted to go to the new museum exhibit and she just couldn’t bring herself to mar his Saturday with a serious conversation. She also didn’t want to make herself think about his teacher any more than was strictly necessary.

So here she found herself, sitting across from Henry at one of the benches in the park, ice cream in hand as a pre-bribe, not that he knew that yet.

She sucked in a breath, bracing herself for what she was sure was going to be one of many awkward conversations about feelings as Henry grew up and faced the trials and tribulations of hormones.

“Henry?”

He hummed in response, not breaking eye contact with a rather delicious looking chocolate chunk he was currently trying to mine from his ice cream.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” And just like that, apparently the chocolate chunk did not seem nearly as appealing to him as it had been the moment before, because Henry raised his head and regarded her with what she could only describe as a suspicious look.

“Okaaaaaay.”

She licked her lips, “So you know that on Friday, I had the parent teacher conference.. thing, right?”

He nodded, an almost victorious expression on his face as he turned his attention back to his ice cream.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind if you were going to start dating Mr. Jones. I always thought you two would be perfect together. He’s so cool and -”

“What?” her voice went up so many octaves it was a wonder anything but dogs could hear it. She felt a violent flush burning up her face, and when Henry looked up and saw that she was not at all going to say anything like that, he turned bright red too.

For a moment, they stared at each other, waiting for the other person to explain what had just happened. But the seconds lengthened, Emma realized that she was the adult there and as such, had to act like one.

She cleared her throat and tried again, this time with Henry’s complete attention.

“As I was saying, I went to the conference thing, and while I was there Mr. Jones mentioned that your grades haven’t been as good as they usually are.” She paused, waiting to see if he would jump to his own defense, but the blush in his cheeks got darker, and he reached up to scratch behind his ear. That was not a move she had ever seen him do before.

So she plowed on. In for a penny, in for pound and all.

“And he's- .. well it came across like-...... Henry, do you have a crush on the new girl?” She’d always been so tactful.

Henry looked down to mush the chocolate chunk around in the now melting ice cream, and mumbled something she didn’t catch. But he didn’t say anything else and she sighed.

“Henry, look, I know it's not really something that you can control, but you know that you can’t let crushes get in the way of what's important. “

His head snapped up. “Well I think it’s important.” There was something in his tone that she didn’t like.

“This crush is only going to last a little while, and then it’ll pass, but your school work and your grades? Those stay with you for the rest of your life.”

“So you think love is something that only lasts a little while?”

She blinked. Where had that come from?

“Henry, what you are feeling isn’t love. You’re too young-”

“Of course you’d say that.”

She jerked back, “What does that mean?”

“You wouldn’t know love if someone shoved it in your face! Maybe that’s why my dad was with you. Because he didn’t have to worry about you loving him!”

“Henry!” she gasped. But was up and out of his seat, running through the park. Emma knew she should go after him, but she felt numb. She had no idea how the conversation had gone so far off the rails, but now all she could process were her son’s scathing words. And how true she knew them to be.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, shell-shocked by Henry's outburst. But she was jarred back to functioning reality when her phone rang.

“Swan.”

“We need you, Sheriff.”

She cast one more look across the park. She had lost sight of him, but the entire town knew who he was. And maybe they both needed a bit of space.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Emma looked at the clock in the kitchen again. Another minute. Her grip on the marble countertop tightened further.

Henry still hadn’t come home and it was well past sunset, the night falling quickly, and in February in Maine, so would the temperature. She forced herself to wait another minute more before she spun around, grabbing her keys and phone as she marched towards the door.

She was reaching for the knob when her phone started vibrating in her hand. She glanced down and saw a number that she didn’t recognize, and she almost didn’t answer it, but if it was one of the townsfolk calling her about Henry and she quickly brought it to her ear.

“Swan.”

“Ms. Swan, this is Killian Jones.”

She was so shocked by the absolute last voice she ever expected to hear at the other end of her phone line that she didn’t come up with an adequate response before he continued.

“Henry’s with me.” The tension abruptly left her body.

“Thank god.”

“Aye,” his voice sounded softer now. “I ran into the lad down at the docks earlier. He was very distressed so I did my best to calm him down. He’s resting now.”

She sucked in a shaky breath, “Thank you. I- Just thank you.”

“Not a problem in the slightest love.” It almost sounded like he was smiling. Then something occurred to her.

“Not that I’m not super grateful but how-”

“I contacted Mary Margaret, who provided me your number. I thought it best to contact you myself, rather than risk playing a game of telephone with your lad’s whereabouts.”

It made sense. “Then thank you again. I’ll come get him right now. Where are you?”

“I brought him to my boat. I keep it docked in the marina during the winter, and I thought that something novel might help to …. settle his mind.”

“Right, ok. I’ll be right there.”

“Aye love, I’ll be expecting you. Be careful, the roads are a bit dodgy at the moment. The ship’s in the farthest slip on the left at the end of pier eight.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“You are more than welcome.”

She quickly disconnected the line, refusing to even think about the sincerity in his tone. She needed to get to Henry.

She pulled into the marina parking lot and drove to the far end, where she knew the gate access to the dock was. As she pulled up, she noticed a figure leaning against the railing, and a moment later, she realized it was Mr. Jones.

She hopped out of the bug and hurried over to him, her worry for Henry making her nearly frantic. But she slipped and would have fallen, except he somehow managed to grab her upper arms, keeping her upright and helping her steady herself. Which she was having a hard time doing because she was close enough to count his freckles and examine the varying hues of blue in his eyes. Not that she was actually doing that. Just that she was close enough that she could.

For a moment, there was a moment of stillness, as the heat from his hands seeped through her jacket. His expression was unreadable.

The next moment though, he blinked and released her, “Alright there?” She nodded, refocusing on the situation, her worry for Henry slamming back into her. “Then I’ll take you to the lad.” He took a moment to look over her face, before he quietly added on, “Don’t worry. The lad’s perfectly fine.”

Something about the mellow confidence in his voice eased her worry somewhat, and she was able to suck in a deep breath, before met his eye again and nodded.

He watched her for a moment longer before he turned and led her to the gate to the marina, opening it for her and stepping back to let her through, allowing it to swing gently shut behind her, then once again taking the lead down the pier. Emma looked out at the blackness of the open sea, unable to tell where sky met sea, leaving an unending canvas of darkness that ended at the pylons at the end of the pier, where the soft light of the parking lot managed to brush the lapping waves.

He led her to the end of the pier to the last slip at the dock, slip fifteen, and stopped in front of a smallish sized sailboat. He quickly stepped across the small gap and onto the boat, before turning and offering her his hand, “Watch your step love, it’s a little unsettling, stepping into a boat, if you aren’t used to it.”

She reached out and grabbed his hand, feeling the strength in his rough calloused palms. His skin was warm and his grip sure as she quickly stepped off the pier and into the boat, catching sight of small black letters on the hull in the gap between the wood boards and the gunwale.

The Jolly Roger

Once she had stepped down onto the deck, she pulled her hand back quickly. She tried to cover the movement though, asking with a small laugh, “The Jolly Roger, huh?”

He let out a huff of laughter, reaching up to scratch behind his ear, “Aye, I was an avid fan of Peter Pan in my youth, so it seemed only appropriate.” He gave her a lopsided smile, and her breath caught. His eyes were almost clear in the faint light and the cold had brought out a blush high on his cheeks, but left the rest of his skin pale, accentuating the darkness of his hair and beard.

She couldn’t help the small smile she returned, “Yeah I guess that makes sense.”

His eyes softened for a moment, before he took in a breath, “Now lets fetch the stowaway, aye?”

She nodded, stepping back to allow him to move towards the fore of the ship, following him around the cabin to the small flight of steps that led into the interior. He began to make his way down, when he paused, “The lad’s probably sleeping. I can bring him up if you like. So that you don’t need to wake him.”

She considered for a moment, weighing the result of Henry waking up at home without knowing how he got there and waking him now and having him cause even more of a scene.

“Yeah, if you could that'd be great.”

He gave her a quick nod before he disappeared below deck. Emma looked around, trying to distract herself from the cold, taking in the pristine deck and neatly coiled and tied off ropes. The wind gusted hard, and she sucked in a deep breath of the salty air, shivering slightly as the cold seeped into her.

But before the chill could settle into her bones, she heard heavy footfalls coming back up the steps and a moment later, Mr. Jones appeared, cradling Henry in his arms, his head lolling on the man’s shoulder and his body completely relaxed in sleep.

Once he was back on deck, she stepped forward to brush the hair from Henry's face, looking down at him. Her heart squeezed at the sight of his small form. She hoped that she could make it up to him, whatever she’d said that had upset him.

She looked up at Mr. Jones, surprised to see him looking not at her, but down at Henry as well. A soft look had settled over his features, the kind of calmness that Emma often felt when Henry fell asleep on her. The peace that came with being trusted completely.

She swallowed tightly, stepping back, “Thanks. Let’s get him back to the car.”

She then quickly turned and led the the way back around the cabin to the dock, quickly stepping up onto the wood, before turning to watch as Mr. Jones also stepped up. His brow was furrowed as he carefully stepped up onto the dock as well.

The concern that he was showing for Henry's welfare was doing something to her insides, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.

They made way down the pier in silence, Emma not really sure how to break it, and Mr. Jones appearing content to just allow it to be. It was broken briefly when she hurried ahead to pull open the gate to the parking lot and he gave a quiet, “Thanks love.”

When they finally made it to the bug, Emma’s nerves were on edge, his steady presence and the smell of his skin, which she could detect even over the salty air of the sea, both making her keenly aware of him. And then there was the devotion with which he carried her son.

After she’d opened the bug and dropped the seat down, she turned back to take them in. She knew that Henry was well liked by the townsfolk, but care and gentleness in Mr. Jones’s hold was beyond just being liked.

It was like how a father would carry his son.

The thought was abrupt and was like dousing her with cold water, breaking the odd sort of bubble that had enveloped them since she’d arrived. And her mouth acted before she could think it through.

“Well you can put him in the car now.” She snapped. His head jerked back in surprise at her abrupt change in mood, but she could not rein herself in. She actually felt her hands beginning to shake as the thought sank its roots deeper and deeper into her psyche, dredging up memories that she was not prepared to deal with. Henry’s accusations from earlier rang in her ears, along with his comment about how he thought that she and his teacher would be good together.

“Aye, wouldn’t want him catching cold.” He stepped forward and began to awkwardly maneuver Henry into the back seat of the bug while Emma watched, shaking with all the reasons she needed to run and make sure she never interacted with this man again.

In the midst of positioning her son comfortably on the back seat, Mr. Jones accidentally bumped Henry's head into the siding of the car, and she sank her teeth into the opportunity, regardless of how unreasonable she knew she was being.

“Be careful! You’ve already done enough damage.”

His back went stiff as he finally finished settling Henry down. Then he slowly turned and straightened, an incredulous expression on his face.

“Excuse me?”

She scoffed, moving around him to pop the seat back up, bending over as she said, “You’ve already done enough damage. If it weren’t for you, I would never have had that conversation with Henry. You couldn’t have left well enough alone.”

She didn’t even bother looking at him before she slid into the driver’s seat.

“Thank you, Mr. Jones,” she spat, then slammed the door, not giving him any opportunity to react. Then she jammed the key into the ignition, and it took everything in her to not peel out of the parking lot. But she managed a more reasonable pace, quickly driving away from the docks and the unsettling man that still stood there.

But just before the distance swallowed him, she couldn’t help but glance in her rear-view mirror and unwillingly noticed that there was no other car in the lot. It wasn’t until he was completely out of sight though that she realized that he’d been wearing clothes better suited for bed than the docks.

It took Emma a long time to fall asleep after she’d gotten home, carrying Henry to bed and doing her best to not to think about anything except how to apologize to her son the next morning. And ignoring the little niggling voice that sounded a lot like Henry telling her that her son was not the only one she should be apologizing to.

When she did manage to fall asleep in the early hours of the morning, it was full of unsettling dreams that she couldn’t remember. She wasn’t surprised though, to find that when she’d woken, it was still dark in the room, without the faintest bit of light creeping in through the windows.

But she was surprised to find a warm body curled up next to her, practically buried in her duvet and mass of excessive pillows. Henry’s hair was sticking up in all directions, a sure sign that he’d been having bad dreams. She sighed as she looked down at him, still completely off kilter from the last couple of days. But one thing she was sure of is that she wanted Henry to not be mad at her anymore. So she’d do what she had to.

She must have bumped him, or maybe he was sleeping as lightly as she was tonight, because after a few moments of looking down at him, she went to lay back down and he began to move. She sat back up to watch as he slowly fought his way free of the bed coverings before he was sitting up as well, rubbing his eyes.

“Mom?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah kid?” Her voice was just as soft.

He shifted around and a moment later, she felt his hand slid into her own. “I’m sorry.”

His voice sounded so broken, and she couldn’t help but pull him to her, using their linked hands to settle him against her, like she used to do when he was little.

“Oh Henry, you don’t have anything to apologize for. I should be apologizing,” she mumbled into his hair as she took deep breaths, savoring the smell that had been a comfort to her since he’d been born.She felt him shake his head.

“No you don’t. You’re right. I’ll work on focusing in class. It’s not that big a deal, it’s just….” his voice petered out.

“Just what?”

He shifted against her, pressing himself more fully into her chest so she was essentially cradling him. “It was something one of the other kids had said to me last week. And I guess it was still bothering me today when you asked.”

She pulled him tighter, “What did they say?”

He shook his head again, and she let it go. He’d tell her if she wanted to. She was content to just hold her baby boy, knowing that it was something that both of them needed. After a while, he shifted again, then asked quietly, “Why didn’t my father stay?”

Her breath caught. This was not a conversation she expected to have with Henry at this age, let alone in the dark in bed after a fight. But if that’s what it took to mend their relationship, then so be it.

“I’m still not sure,” she whispered, voice almost as soft as the breeze she could detect outside. “You know a little bit about how I grew up, but I think that for me to answer, you need the whole picture. You know I grew up in the foster system.”

He nodded.

“What I never really told you is what it was like. Being an orphan is bad enough as it is, growing up thinking that you were so unloveable that even your parents couldn’t manage it. But on top of that, the foster care system itself is awful. Kids turn bitter and mean, and they’d do cruel things to other kids just because they could. And the people who were fostering kids were usually only doing it for a meal ticket. There were a few good ones, but for the most part, they were apathetic at best.”

“What’s apthetic mean?”

She smiled into the darkness, “It’s ap-A-thetic. And it means that they didn’t care.”

“A-puh-thet-ic,” he tried again, and she gave him a squeeze.

“Very good.” She paused a moment, trying to get herself back on track.

“Why wouldn’t they care, mom?

She sighed. It felt too early to expose her son to the darknesses of the world, but he’d asked. “I don’t think that you can understand Henry. Not because you are too young,” she added when he started to shift, like he was going to object. “No it isn’t your age. It's how you’ve grown up. Everyone around you cares. Whether it concerns them or not, everyone in this town is watching out for everyone else. And that’s how you know the world, and how the world knows you. You care so much Henry.”

She gave him a squeeze, fighting back the slight tightness in her throat.

“But there are some people in this world who just don’t. They see something wrong, and as long as it doesn’t bother them, they walk by it.” She struggled to find an example he’d understand. “Like if they see a lost dog, rather than trying to find its owner, they just keep going about their day, never even sparing that dog another thought. It wasn’t their dog, so why should they care? So it’s those kinds of people that are often taking care of kids that aren’t theirs. And if they didn’t care about a dog that didn’t belong to them, why would they care about a kid?”

“That doesn’t sound right. Why are they allowed to be that way?”

“Because that’s just who they are, how they grew up. You can’t force a person to care.”

He was quiet for a moment, then mumble, “That’s dumb.”

She laughed, pressing another kiss to his head. But the smile faded as she softly continued.

“So by the time I was almost old enough to take care of myself, I was sure that I was unlovable. I-”

“I love you, Mom.”

She sucked in a breath to keep herself from crying, “And I love you. Never forget that, no matter how mad I get at you or how upset you get with me, I will always love you, ok?”

He nodded again, dropping her hand to wrap his arms around her, hugging her tightly. She gathered herself to continue.

“I thought that I would always be alone. But then I met your dad. He was older, into his twenties, and he was charming and smart, at least, I thought so at the time. And he paid attention to me.” She figured that it wasn’t too big a deal she omitted that the car she drove around in daily was stolen and that’s how she’d met Neal. Some things could wait until he was a little older.

“He always asked my advice and told jokes to make me smile, and after a while, we were… boyfriend and girlfriend. I did a lot of things with your dad that I’m not proud of, but at the time it felt like having a partner in crime.” He didn’t need to know it had been literally. “So after a little while, I thought that we must be in love, because love had to feel like that. But then he left without a word, and I never heard from him again.” She again left out the portion where she’d been arrested and sent to prison.

“So after that, I had you, and I knew that I loved you. But your dad made it so I couldn’t trust my feelings. And-... that’s it really,” she rounded out pathetically.

She was both glad and disappointed that she couldn’t see his face in the now lightening darkness, but when he just squeezed her more tightly and snuggle that last bit closer, she figured that was answer enough.

She was content to just hold him until he fell asleep again, feeling the anxiety that had been haunting her since yesterday slowly began to fade away.

But then Henry broke the silence, “Some of the other kids were teasing me about not having a dad. They found out that I had a crush on Violet and made fun of me, and said that if my daddy couldn’t love me, why would I think that Violet might.” Anger licked at her belly, but she forced it aside to keep the peace of the moment.

“So when you said those things yesterday, I was already thinking about it, and it was like hearing from my own mom that they were right. That I couldn’t love because how could I know what it is. And that things are more important than love, and that's why my dad left, because there were things more important than me.”

“Oh Henry, there is nothing more important than you. And it will always be that way ok?”

“Ok.”

Silence fell again, and a few minutes later she felt his body go slack as he went back into sleep. And as the new day dawned, she settled back in to join him. Just a few more hours.

It took most of Monday for Emma to psyche herself up to speak to Mr. Jones. She’d been way out of line the night before, and she needed to apologize. She really did feel awful, in the light of day, without the weight of her fight with Henry looming over her.

So here she was, waiting for Henry to get out of class, so she could go talk to Mr. Jones. She heard the final bell ring and a few minutes later, kids started streaming outside, Henry among them.

He ran up to her and threw his arms around her in a hug.

“Hi!” he shouted, obviously still hyped up on whatever it was he was doing just before school got out. Then he started bouncing on his toes, “So we got assigned group projects today and Nick invited our group over to his house and can I please go? Pleasepleasepleaseplease?”

She smiled as she shook her head ruefully, “Yeah, I suppose I’ll allow it.”

“YES!” he shouted as he dove in for another hug. And then he pulled back and raced off, a shouted “bye” as he went over to meet his group.

Well that was just perfect. No Henry to act as a buffer to the situation. This was going to be so awkward.

But she sucked in a breath, put on her big girl pants, and marched inside.

She was glad that she found him still in his classroom, because she had no idea where else she’d look for him. He was seated at his desk, pen in hand and sleeves rolled up as he read, and she figured he was grading papers. She wanted to step into the classroom and approach him, but for some reason, she felt like doing that would be intruding on his space without his permission.

She took one more breath, then lightly tapped her knuckles on the wood door jamb.

“Yes?” He didn’t even look up from the paper, “If you forgot something, you may go get it, just remember that you need to be-” he had finally raised his eyes towards the doorway and realized that it wasn’t a student. His eyes opened wide in surprise for just a moment, before his face turned cold.

“Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Swan?”

She winced. She knew that he was not going to be pleased to see her, but experiencing it first-hand was something else.

“May I come in? I uh.. Wanted to talk to you.”

He sat back and crossed his arms, his face still cold. “Well given how well I know your last talk went, I think it better you didn’t.”

Ouch.

She dipped her head in acknowledgement, watching her shoes as she toed at the carpet “Ok, I guess I can say it from here as well as there. Uh,” she forced herself to meet his eye. One eyebrow raised while he waited for her to speak.

“Uh, I uh, I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night, and the things I said.” He blinked, but his face remained impassive.

“I was way out of line. There’s no excuse for what I said to you.”

“What, no ‘being emotional over Henry defense’?” he scoffed.

She grit her teeth. He was not making this easy.

“I was upset about Henry,” she affirmed, and a scornfully satisfied look settled on his face. She forced herself to continue, rather than march over and punch him in his smug mouth. “But being emotional is not an excuse to behave rude or mean. Which I was both.”

She felt her own sliver of satisfaction when the look slid off his face. “And I also wanted to thank you properly for what you did for him last night. You went above the call of duty, and I sincerely appreciate your taking care of my child. So… yeah.” She nodded her head weakly.

He continued to regard her a moment longer before something in his expression cracked and he softened.

He spoke in a very different tone when he answered her. “I will not lie and claim that your words did not cut. But,” he continued when she opened her mouth, effectively cutting her off, which was probably a good thing, because she had no idea what she’d planned on saying. “But... I understand that most norms of society go out the window when it comes to worry for your child. I know that you must have also been upset from your fight with him, if what he told me was any indication. And while I can’t quite understand the mental state of a parent worried for their child, I can at least appreciate it.”

Emma let out a sigh, “I’m glad to hear it. Henry thinks the world of you” his lips tilted up into a smile “and I’d hate for this to affect him so I-”

“Leave.” The change was so instantaneous, she thought he was acting. But apparently he wasn't because he continued, sneering, “I can assure you that I do not let my personal life affect how I interact with people who aren’t involved in it, especially my student. Unlike some. Now please leave.”

She staggered back, completely shocked by the abrupt change in his attitude. And what little courage she’d mustered to being the conversation vanished, and she just tucked tail and ran.

Another tumbler dropped down on the bar in front of her, accompanied with another unsolicited comment, “Jeez Sherrie, ya pounden those down like a fish. Dontcha have tah early shift tamarra?”

“First, it’s Sherif, second, I do not give a flying fuck. I’m paying for my booze, that should be the only thing you are concerned with, Scarlett.”

The bartender held up his hands in surrender, “Alright alright, no need t’ snap at a man just doin’ ‘is job.”

Emma glared at him, “Your job is serving drinks, not playing therapist.”

He just gave her an easy smile back, “Well, it ain’t in the job title, sure. But most folks ‘round here, I fink, would disagree wif’ ya.”

She continued to glare at him a moment longer before she grabbed the glass before her and tossed it back in a single gulp, eyes squeezed tight against the burn of the cheapest rum that Will kept in stock. Once she’d gotten it down he opened her eyes and held out her glass, one eyebrow raised expectantly, “Better get earning that job title.”

Will stepped forward and snatched the glass from her hand, mumbling about being completely unreasonable and there was no call to be curt.

“Ha,” Emma snorted, “I’m unreasonable? That’s hilarious.” The liquor had loosened her tongue as she mumbled, unable to contain her frustration for a moment.

“Oh, why ya say dat, Sherrie?” Will casually inquired with a brief glance over his shoulder.

“It’s sheriff. And I say dat,” she tried and failed miserably to match his accent, “because if you think I’m being ridiculous, you should have seen the guy I had to put up with earlier. I go all the way down to the school, make it a point of finding him, try to apologize, he pretends to make nice and then just turns into a total douche. Here I was, trying to make nice and make sure Henry’s schooling isn’t affected because he’d blame himself and be even more distracted and he has to act like a fucking jackass!”

As she got to the last part of her rant, Scarlett froze. When she’d finished, he swore so creatively she thought he might have started speaking a different language. But then he whirled around and marched up to where she was sitting. And his face was deadly serious. Emma almost didn’t think the man could be serious.

But there was no smile on his face now.

“Were you speaking with Jones?” His voice was low and raw, each word perfectly enunciated. She just stared at him, her rum addled brain having hard time grasping what was going on. Will reached across the bar and grabbed her shoulder, giving it a small shake in his earnestness.

“Were you talking to Killian?”

Emma just nodded and Will swore even more explosively than last time, running his hands through his hair, a look of panic settling across his face. “Fuck I gotta call Rob.” He pulled his phone, quickly opened it and dialed, holding it to his ear like a lifeline. Emma could hear the ringing over the sound of the bar music, and she heard when it went to voicemail.

“Fuck.” Will hung up, looking around like he’d find something else to help him. But Emma’s mind had had enough time to catch up, and she managed to lean across the bar to grab Will’s sleeve, stopping him from walking away.

“Will, what’s going on?” He turned to her, and she was taken aback by the intense worry and anger on his face. “What’s wrong?”

He ran his hand through his hair again, looking around like he was searching for answers, but not finding any, he dropped his hand, a resigned sigh leaving his shoulders slumped.

He leaned forward, “I am telling you this in confidence, both ‘cause you’re the sheriff and because I think you may be the only one able to clean up the mess you made.” Emma’s brows furrowed at his words but before she had a chance to express her confusion, Will continued.

“I’ll not give you all the details. Jones is likely to kill me anyway, but it goes like this. A boy and his brother orphaned. Big brother takes care of them until the boy is old enough to join the navy, and they go in together side by side. Big brother takes the sea route and quickly attains captain. The boy chooses to take the more academic route and ends up graduating early as one of the youngest PhDs that Cambridge has ever seen. He joins his big brother out at sea, as his lieutenant and foreign interaction adviser. They’re happy.”

He paused and Emma swallowed, knowing what was coming next was not a happily ever after.

“Then his world gets blown apart in the most literal sense of the word.” Emma gasped. “Big brother dies and use of his hand is severely limited from the damage. Navy gives him a fine pension and a lump of money with a photocopied apology and sent him neatly on his way without so much as a by your leave. He heads stateside, and gets a teaching position at Harvard. All going well until,” he paused again and looked at her significantly, “he was accused of unprofessional conduct and fired.”

And suddenly, his reaction to her statement at the classroom door made complete sense.

“Fuck.”

Will nodded, “Fuck indeed. Now you need to go out and bloody well explain yourself before he spirals too badly. It… wasn’t pretty the last time.”

Emma jumped up from her bar stool, took two steps towards the exit, then realized she hadn’t paid yet. She turned back around but Will was already waving her away.

“Worry ‘bout it later. I know you're good for it.”

Without further ado, she turned and headed out into the night.

She had gotten to the far side of the parking lot when she heard the sound of glass shattering and muted yelling. Panic gripped her and she hurried the last few steps to the dock gates and went to open it, only to find it locked. She cursed. She should have thought of that.

But time was of the essence and after a quick look around to confirm that the area was empty, she dropped to her knees, pulled two bobby pins from her hair, and quickly set to work on the lock. In a matter of moments, the latch popped open and she got to her feet.

She made her way down to his slip, trying to walk quietly, unsure of what she was going to say or the manner of man she was going to be encountering. She could hear more muffled yelling and cursing, and could tell now that it was definitely Jones’s voice. Then there was a loud thud and the cabin went quiet.

Heart in her chest, she hurriedly climbed aboard and made her way around to the entrance of the cabin, shivering violently in the ice cold wind. She stepped down the stairs, and after a moment’s hesitation, she knocked.

There was no acknowledgement from within and she knocked a little harder. When she received no response again, she tried something else.

“Jones, I know you’re in there.” This time she heard some shifting, but he still didn’t answer. “Jones?”

“What the bloody fuck do you want?”

His voice came from right on the other side of the door and she jumped back in surprise. The door didn’t move though, and she had a feeling it probably wouldn’t ever for her.

“Come to ruin my life too?” he yelled. He sounded drunk and on the brink of tears. “Come to take the only goddamn thing I have left of my life away?” There was another loud thud and the doorknob rattled, then his voice came much more softly, “Haven’t I lost enough already?”

She was on the verge of tears herself, but this wasn’t about her. This was about the man who was probably reliving every hell he’d ever endured because of some of her careless words.

“I uh, I’m not here to take anything from you,” she started quietly. “When we spoke earlier today, I think that you may have misunderstood something I said. I uh, didn’t realize how close to home my comment would hit, I guess.”

“Bloody fucking Scarlet needs to learn to keep his fucking mouth shut,” he mumbled against the door. Emma’s lips ticked up, but she continued.

“He did tell me a bit, but only after I yelled for a bit. He uh, gave me the context for your reaction earlier and,” she sucked in a breath as a particularly cold gust of wind sent a violent shiver down her spine, “and uh, I think you really misunderstood what I said.”

There was quiet for a moment before he asked in a quiet, almost childlike voice, “So you aren’t trying to take Liam from me?”

She wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but the answer to that quest was obviously of the utmost importance to him.

She stepped back closer to the door, “No, I’m not. I just want to explain.”

There was a deep sigh, then she heard movement and the door swung open. Light spilled out onto the stairwell, and in the light, she could take in his appearance. He looked wrecked.

His eyes were red and his hair was sticking up in every direction, his tie was pulled loose and dangling from his throat, half of his dress shirt untucked. There was a brown stain down the front of it that looked like he’d tried drinking from the bottle and missed.

She took all this in as he swayed slightly and squinted, like he was trying to get her in focus. When it appeared that he had, she didn’t move, but asked quietly, “May I come in?”

He looked at her a moment longer, but when the wind gusted and she shivered again, he mumbled, “Bloody hell you must be freezing.” Then he stood aside to let her into the cabin.

Once she’d stepped past the door, he closed it shut behind her, blocking the biting wind and muting the sounds of the sea. She looked around, talking in the inner space of the cabin, the bed up against one wall, built into the cabinetry, the small kitchenette, and a door, behind which she assumed was the bathroom.

She had a feeling that under normal circumstances, the cabin would be spotless, everything in its proper place. But now, there was liquid dripping down one was, papers scattered everywhere and bits of broken glass littering the floor. Once she completed her look around, she turned back to him, where he was still standing by the closed door, watching her.

She sucked in a breath, glad that her run to the harbor had effectively sobered her up, because she did not want to fuck this up again. “First, I wanted to thank you again for your help with Henry last night.”

She stopped, and waited for him to acknowledged he’d heard her. He nodded slightly before his brow furrowed, “Where is the lad?”

He sounded confused, like he was looking at a riddle he couldn’t solve, but Emma’s heart melted a little bit more at his concern for her son, even when he was going through hell himself.

“He’s over at a friend’s house, working on that group project. They’re probably playing video games and eating pizza at this point but what can you do?”

It took a couple seconds to process, but hen the furrow in his brow eased somewhat and he nodded, apparently satisfied. At the motion, she continued.

“Second, I wanted to apologize, again, for how I spoke to you. As I said before, it was completely uncalled for.”

This time he didn’t even nod, he just blinked owlishly at her, and she had a feeling that the adrenaline crash was hitting him hard now that he wasn’t yelling anymore, and she probably only had a bit longer before he was passed out.

“Third, I wanted to explain my comment. I did not mean, in any way, that you would allow any tensions between us to affect your behavior towards Henry.”

He stiffened, and seemed to managed to bring himself back to the surface at least for a moment, “What did you mean by it then?”

She paused, licking her lips as she gathered her thoughts. She was momentarily distracted when she saw his eyes flick down to the movement, and then lick his own lips in repose.

Nope nope nope, Henry’s teacher and definitely not right now.

“Henry has always had a big heart.” He nodded in agreement. “Since he was little, other peoples problems were always his problems. And that’s what I meant. If there was any animosity or bad feelings between us, he’d think that it was his fault, and blame himself.”

At her words, he sucked in a shaky breath.

“He’d think it was his fault and punish himself, or stop speaking up in class, or stop talking to the other kids. And that’s the last thing I want to happen. He’s the happiest he’s ever been in your class. Some days he won’t shut about you. It's actually a little annoying sometimes,” she added with a small smile.

He tentatively returned it, a wobbly little thin, but he managed it all the same.

“So I just wanted to explain that to you. And if you’d like me to write something down for you and sign it so you have that assurance, I’m more than happy to do that. I’m not here to take anything from you.”

He took another shaky breath, and in a broken voice, “So you aren’t going to try and take all I have left of Liam away?”

And suddenly it clicked. Liam was his brother he’d lost. And the boat must be a special memory for him.

“No, I am not trying to take anything.”

It was like she could see the words travel through the air, enter his ears, and settle into his brain. The next moment he let out a harsh sob and dropped his head. He started to fall forward, and not knowing what else to do, Emma jumped forward to catch him before he could fall. But in doing so, she’d ended up wrapped around him in a hug.He didn’t seem to mind though, because his own arms cam up and he held her tightly, crying uncontrollably into her shoulder.

She wondered how long he’d kept everything in. If he ever actually properly grieved for his brother. Because as she held him, one hand running through his hair and the other rubbing up and down his back, she could feel the weight of years of grief in his form.

Minute by minute, his crying slowed, his breathing evening out a bit. She continued to run her hands where she could, trying to offer what comfort she could. Which in and of itself was an oddity, because Emma hated physical contact almost as much as she hated having to help people deal with their emotions.

But here, wrapped around him, supporting him, she found that she didn’t mind it so much.

Finally, it seemed that he’d cried himself out and he shifted a bit, and she carefully let her hands drop slightly, not quite off of him, but loose enough that he could pull away if he wanted to. But he just shifted back enough that he could look at her face. The alcohol and exhaustion were both clearly evident in his eyes, and it was for that reason that she allowed him to bring his hands to cup her face. At least that what she told herself.

He held her for a moment, eyes flicking over her face, before he closed his owner and leaned forward. For one shocked moment, Emma thought he was going to try and kiss her. But instead he leaned his forehead against her as he took another shaky breath. Emma also told herself she wasn’t disappointed about that either.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She shook her head slightly, “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Will you accept my thanks then, if you’ll not take my apology?”

She smiled slightly, “Yes, I’ll accept your thanks.”

“Thank you,” he breathed.

A few moments later he straightened. Something crossed his face, like he was deciding something, before he carefully reached for her hand. She let him take it and guide her over to the bunk, glass crunching under their feet. He helped her sit, and she had to admire that even in deep emotional distress and well into the bottom of his glass, he was still a gentleman.

Once she’d sat down, he joined her, still holding her hand and she absolutely did not shiver at the sensation of his fingers gentle tracing patterns into the back of her hand. They sat like that for another long moment, before he started speaking, his voice quiet, even in the silence of the cabin.

“I’m sure that Will gave you the sparknotes version of my formative years.” He paused and his eyes glanced up at her from under his lashes in a devastating stare. She tried to ease the atmosphere a little, to help him.

“Well, I think it was more the wikipedia version”

His lips tipped up and he huffed out a small laugh, so she took that as a victory. Then he refocused on her hand.

“Liam meant everything to me, and when he died, I…. was broken. I thought that my life was over. I continued on, existing for the sake of Liam’s memory, but it didn’t feel like life. When we were younger, Liam and I had always said that we were going to buy a boat when we retired. So when I got his life insurance money, I couldn’t fathom spending that ...blood money… on anything, until I thought to buy this. A boat would be a perfect way to honor his memory, and use the money for something, rather than having it waste away in some account I’d never look at again. So I had the boat commissioned, and an old friend of mine who was still in the navy, managed to pull some strings, and was able to get me a large piece of metal from the ship we both served on. I had it built into the helm, so that I’d always have that piece of Liam with me.

“Once the boat was finished, I took to the seas and started to feel more like myself. I decided to make a new start here in the states, and with my credentials, I was able to get a job as an adjunct professor at Harvard. For a few years, it was good. Then I met Milah.

“She was a graduate student that I was advising as she finished her PhD. She was smart, witty, kind. Neither of us meant for it to happen, but we ended up spending more and more time together, just enjoying each other’s company. It was like I blinked and we were in a relationship. And it was good.

“Then I found out she was married.”

Emma winced, knowing what was coming next wasn’t good.

“And despite my own cautioning, I continued to see her. We made each other happy, why should we not? She’d been forced into a loveless marriage to solidify a merger of her father’s company to Gold Enterprises, married off to the CEO like chattel. He had never made her happy, and she also knew that he’d been having an affair with his secretary for ages, so she figured one turn deserves another.”

Emma couldn’t fault the logic of that argument.

“But somehow, Gold found out about the affair. And while it was just fine for him to fall into the arms of another, once it was his wife, it was the height of marital impropriety. Hypocrite. Using his considerable influence and position as a board member, he was able to maneuver the university into sacking me and dismissing Milah from the program under the accusation of unprofessional conduct. I was blacklisted, my career ruined. And then, just to make sure he had completely destroyed his rival, he then managed to get the university to sue me,and I spent every penny I had defending my name.

“All for naught it turned out. He was caught in an massive money laundering scheme about a year after, and suddenly, the university had no associations with Gold Enterprises. Even renamed one of the buildings they’d built with his money. Without him at the helm, the university just allowed the case to fade away. But by then it was too late. No academic institution in their right mind would hire me, and I had nothing left to my name but the boat I had spent all my brother’s money on.”

He fell quiet for a moment, and Emma couldn’t help herself.

“How did you end up here then?”

He gave a grim smile, “Luck mostly. I’ve no idea how he heard about it, but an old navy friend of mine reached out to me. Said he was married to the school superintendent for the city. And that he’d managed to talk her into letting me take up a position in the grade school. Purely probationary of course.”

“Wait you knew Robin from before?”

At that he gave a small laugh, “Of course, Swan. All expats know each other. Didn't you know that?”

Emma bit her lip at the name. She ...liked it.

Jones sighed, “And so my woeful tale ends, in the same position I was hired for, five years later. So… now you can understand why I reacted the way I did.”

She nodded, and suddenly, she wanted him to know. She didn’t look at him as she spoke.

“The only man to ever tell me he loved me set me up for his crime and left without a word. By the time I got out, I was 18 with a criminal record and a four month old baby.” She laughed quietly herself, “So now you can understand why I reacted the way I did.”

He gave her hand a squeeze, and she looked up at him. His eyes were the clearest they’d been all night, and even with how exhausted he looked, he was still the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

“Thank you for telling me, love.” She felt something spark within her, the feeling of being not just heard, but listened to.

And in a moment, inspiration struck her, a way to make up for her mistakes to both Henry and Jo- and Killian.

“So I was thinking, as a way to make it up to Henry, that maybe I could help you out with those crafty activities you’d planned for Valentines day, week, whatever. To let him know I'm in his corner.”

His smile was a magnificent thing. “Aye love, that sounds grand.”

She nodded, rather pleased with herself when Killian gave a sudden yawn. She chuckled, “I think I should let you get some rest, then.” She stood and he rose with her.

His hand came up to scratch behind his ear, “Thank you for coming. I’m not… I don’t want to think about what could have happened otherwise.”

Emma smoothed her hands down his arms, “You are more than welcome,” she hesitated, then for once in her life, went with her gut in regards to a man, “Killian.”

His face turned bright pink, even as his eyes brightened. He led her to the door and grabbed the handle, but before he opened it, he turned to her once more, “Have a wonderful evening… Emma.”

She felt her own face burn, but she told herself it was only from the abrupt wall of wind that hit her face as he opened the cabin door and she stepped out into a starry night.

The two weeks following that eventful Sunday and Monday were wonderful. She’d decided to take a step out of her comfort zone, and texted him first the morning following their night on the boat, asking about how he felt.

He’d answered back about an hour later, and from that point on, they were in almost constant contact, texting back and forth throughout her days. He made her hours at the station pass quickly, and in the afternoons, when she went over to the school to help him prepare the materials for all the various projects he’d planned for Valentine’s week.

Their exchanges had been surface communication at first, but as the days passed and the Monday of Valentine’s week rolled around, their conversations had delved into deeper more meaningful conversations. They spoke about the shared experiences of their childhood, their fears and hangups. For some reason, because it was by text, it made it easier to share. But seeing him every day was also great, because any time her doubts began to sound at the back of her mind that this would be the secret that drove him away, there he’s be, later that afternoon, the same secret smile and low, “Hello love” greeting her. He never changed his behavior at all, and she started to realize that he might not ever.

Which was a pretty profound revelation after knowing him for only a week.

And as it happened, David had decided that maybe he could start coming back to work, as a deputy, and Emma happily gave him shifts, knowing they could always use the padding. But it also left most of her days free, and so, on a whim, she decided to head to the school and offer to help with the projects.

When she’d arrived, there were a bunch of low tables set up, each with a small group of kids sitting around it and loaded down with the supplies she’d been helping with last week. She watched the room for a moment, enjoying seeing Killian in his natural setting, squatting down to answer questions and heap praises.

In one of their many conversations, he confided in her that having taught both college and little ones, he found the latter far more fulfilling. He’d said that at first he had no idea how he’d handle working with children, but as Emma watched him now, it was obvious that he was a natural with them.

He noticed her as he was moving to another table, and his face lit up brilliantly, but he didn’t say anything, just walked over to the door without drawing attention to her. When he reached her, he reached out and very subtly ran his fingers down her arm, “Hello love. What brings you to the madhouse?”

She laughed. “Well I have suddenly found most of my days free this week, so I figured I could come by and help out.” She tried to shrug like it was no big deal, but the way his eyes sparkled and crinkled up at the corners told her that he knew even if she was trying to pretend otherwise.

“Well please do come in,” he made a sweeping gesture to welcome her to the room and she gladly stepped through. Once she was several steps in, she suddenly felt his heat at her back and felt his breath on her ear, “I’m going to introduce you to the class if that’s alright?”

There was no hiding the shiver that accompanied her nod.

Then he was gone and she turned just as he spoke up, “Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention for a moment.”

Emma stared in amazement as immediately the whole class was focused on him, thirty-two ten year olds all sitting quietly and waiting.

“This is Sheriff Swan. She’s been kind enough to volunteer some of her time to come and help us with our festivities. She’s our honored guest, so please treat her like one, aye? Excellent, alright back at it!”

There were a few curious lingering stares, and Henry wide eyed one of sheer amazement when a student at one of the side tables raised a hand and called out, “Mr. Joneth?”

She immediately had his attention, “Yes, Maggie?”

“Ith theth gonna help uth with our projecth, thoulden’t the have to pick out a pirate too?” The girl tried hard to enunciate over her lisp and Emma felt her lips tick up, not in amusement, but in pride at the girl trying so hard to speak correctly.

But Killian did nothing to try and hide his proud smile, “Right you are Maggie! Sheriff Swan, if you’d please go over to the brig, you can pick your pirate for the week.”

Emma looked to where he’ gestured, and saw that the little pirates they’d made last week, with a stick body, spoon and painter’s tape head and pipe cleaner arms, stuck into what looked like orange styrofoam, so they all stood upright, their little signs forward and easy to read.

She didn’t remember anything about putting pirate names on them, so intrigued, she went over and pulled one from its place, looking at it carefully, before she turned it around. There on the back of the little sign the pirate was ‘holding’ was a name, written in beautiful block letters.

Captain Hook

She burst out laughing, surprising the class, and making Killian raise an eyebrow. So she composed herself enough to answer the unspoken question hanging in the room, “I got Captain Hook!”

She looked over at Killian, and saw that he was biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud, his shoulder shaking with repressed laughs. He managed to compose himself and announced to the class, “There you have it mates, Captain Hook has joined our crew!”

The next few days passed in a blur of cardboard paper, Elmer’s glue, odd facts about friendships between pirates, and children’s laughter. Henry was dead on his feet at the end of every day, delighted as he was that she was there at school with him.

By the time Thursday the 13th rolled around, Emma actually found herself almost looking forward to Valentine’s Day. But she refused to think about it. She didn’t want to place expectations on Killian. They had only been doing this thing for two weeks, and it wasn’t fair to him to expect some grand romantic gesture for the holiday, fake as it may be. She was still smiling at the adorable valentines that Henry's classmates had been giving her throughout the day. Adorable little squares on sticks with pirates that the kids had drawn on them, little phrases like Aaaargh, Valiteene! and Your Great!, those adorable spelling mistakes included with every gift.

However, her excitement for the following day was viciously tampered when David called in and said that the baby had a colic and he needed to stay with Mary Margaret, and if she could please take his shift.

And as much as she really didn’t want to, which surprised her, it was her job after all. So she resigned herself to a quiet Valentine’s Day. Maybe she’d get a few punny text messages from Killian to pass the day, as he’d taken to sending lately.

Henry ended up running late for some reason, and she barely had time to stop and let him hop out before she had to punch it to reach the station before her shift started. Her day was already off to a bad start. No time for coffee, no time to pop by Killian’s classroom and say hello, and running late to boot.

She managed to rush into the station just before her shift started, and she hurriedly tossed her stuff in her desk and made a b-line for the coffee maker. Only to find that it was empty. She furrowed her brow. In all the years she’d worked at the station, she didn't think she’d ever seen the pot empty before.

Disappointed, she headed back to her desk to grab some of her own coffee grounds, that she kept for the overnight shifts, when she noticed that there was a box and cup sitting on her desk. Curious, she pulled the box towards her, wafting the most beautiful small of pastries and glaze that had her mouth watering in an instant.

She opened the box, and nearly started crying.

For there, inside, lay doughnuts in the shape of hearts, interspersed with bear claws. And sitting right on top was a silly little Valentine- You’re Great!

She bit her lip as she reached for the cup and opened the lid to find hot chocolate with still melting whipped cream and cinnamon on top. Exactly like she liked it. She inhaled deeply and felt the warmth seep down further into her than it ever had before.

She sat down and pulled out her phone to text Killian, but was surprised to find a text from him only moment’s before.

Good morning to my valentine.

Stupid hot, sexy, thoughtful Irishman.

In return, she sent a picture of the whole ensemble, texting him back with the photo and caption.

I don’t know, Jones, I think I might be this guy's valentine, he brought me hot chocolate and bear claws.

And then before she could talk herself out of it.

Looks like he knew just how to steal my heart.

She had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to check his phone for a while, and so decided to make good use of the time. She grabbed the hot chocolate in one hand and a bear claw in the other then sat back in her chair.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad day after all.

But as the hours passed, she was surprised that he still hasn't responded to her, and by the time lunch rolled around, she was certain she'd pushed too far and ruined it. She was so lost in her spiraling thoughts that she didn’t hear anyone enter until she heard, “Emma Swan?”

She whipped around in her chair to take in one of the newer bussers from Granny’s, still in his apron, holding one of Granny to-go bags.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she stood up, more than a little confused. Mostly because Granny’s did not do delivery. There had been several towninitatives over the years to convince the crotchety old woman to expand her enterprise into delivery, but she soundly shut it down every time it was brought up.

The boy came closer and held out the bag to her.

“Here’s your order, enjoy!” Practically as soon as she had her hand on the bag, the boy turned and rushed out of the station, leaving a mystified Emma in his wake. But Emma wasn’t one to look gift delivery in the bag, so she settled back down at her desk, continuing on the paperwork she’d been processing as she reached into the bag. The first thing her fingers encountered was a piece of paper, and figuring it was a napkin, she pulled it out.

But when it emerged, it was another little pirate, this one with the phrase “Everyone thinks that a pirate’s favorite letter is r or maybe the c. But those are both wrong, because this pirate’s favorite letter is u.”

She bit her lip as she shook her head at the pun before pulling out her favorite order of grilled cheese and onion rings. She took a picture of that one as well and sent it to him.

I’m feeling like a siren, having all these pirates come to me.

It was so simple, his gifts, but this was the best holiday she’d ever celebrated. She could feel herself coming around to the idea of enjoying Valentine’s Day.

She waited the rest of her shift for something else, anxiously looking towards the door whenever she thought she heard something. But five o’clock rolled around and nothing else was forthcoming. She told herself it was ridiculous to be disappointed, given how much he’d already done.

So she packed up her small army of pirates and headed out to her car.

When she was again brought up short, because sitting against her windshield held in place by her wiper, was a single red rose and another valentine.

She pulled them both out gently, careful not to damage the beautiful stem, taking a deep breath of the bud before she hurriedly got into her car. It was only five, she could probably throw together some sort of dinner for him. That would be perfect. A way for her to acknowledge how much she appreciated his gifts.

She pulled up to the house and hurried to get her stuff together and rushed up to the house. Only to find another pirate guarding the entrance, this one stating “The only treasure this pirate needs is you.”

She reached for the knob and was only half surprised that it turned easily. The door swung inward and she gasped when it revealed a trail of rose petals and tea lights. She remembered mentioning it once, just as a side comment while they worked on the craft supplies, that even if it was a bit corny, she’d always liked it in movies when they did the path of rose petals. And yet, despite the passingess of her comment, here it was, a silly fantasy she’d had since she was a little girl.

She closed the door behind her, dropping her bag right there before she followed the trail of light towards the kitchen. As she got closer, she smelled it. Perfectly cooked cheese pizza. When she rounded the corner though, all thoughts of food vanished from her mind as she took in the sight before her.

Her dining room table was draped with a table cloth and held two long wick candles burning merrily in the darkness, illuminating two beautiful place settings. But that paled in comparison to the man that stood before her.

Killian was standing formally by the closer chair, hands clasped behind his back, at parade rest. He wore a perfectly tailored three piece suit, the black of the vest and jacket contracting sharply with the cerulean blue of his shirt.

She was certain that she was standing in her own kitchen gaping like an idiot, but she really couldn’t bring herself to care. When her thoughts finally returned from hornyville, the only thng she could think to say was, “How did you get in here?”

He smiled widely, his dimples popping out, as if she’d reacted as he had wanted her too.

“Would you believe that your son slipped it to me several days ago?”

That brought her sharply out of her lingering stupor, “What?”

His grin widened, “Aye, would you believe he had the audacity to slide the key across my desk right before the end of the day, and say to me that I’d better not break your heart?”

Emma could only shake her head. Where Henry got his ideas from was a mystery to her sometimes. But she really couldn’t bring herself to be mad about his cheekiness.

“I suppose you also know why he’s not sitting in the living room trying to reach a level sixty paladin?”

“I was informed that he’d been invited over to Nick’s to, and I quote, ‘keep working on that group project you gave us.’”

She rolled her eyes.

“But enough about him love. I do believe that you have a seat here awaiting your presence.” As he spoke, he brought his hands around to pull the chair out.

“Do I?” she teased with a raised eyebrow.

“Aye, and it’s been awaiting your arrival most anxiously.”

She heard what he didn’t say as she stepped forward to take her seat, feeling him slide the chair in behind her. She watched as he reached around her to the wine bottle on the table, pulling the cork out and pouring out a healthy measure of red wine into both their glasses. But he didn’t take his seat, so she watched as he strode over to the oven. He bent over to open the door and pull something out, but she got distracted by the perfect view she was being afforded.

He didn’t even bother turning around when he called out, “See something interesting there love?” but a moment later he straightened, holding a tray in his mitted hand. “Because I am happy to provide you a much more up close and personal experience if you should desire it.”

She knew he was teasing, but she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to throw him a little off kilter. “You know, I just might.”

He nearly tripped and she laughed.

“Bad form Swan, teasing a man while he’s holding your dinner,” he mumbled s he approached the table. He tipped the tray and used his other hand to nudge its contents off. And once it had slid onto the serving platter and he’d pulled the tray out of the way, she burst out into more laughter as she took in the beautiful deep crust heart-shaped cheese pizza.

Once he’d put the tray back in the kitchen he finally joined her. He picked up his glass and said with a smirk, “I’ve been reliably informed that this is an excellent pairing for cheese pizza,” and she laughed again.

But then his face grew more serious, “Emma Swan, thank you for being who you are and no one else. Without being too forward, may I say- I hope this is the first of many.”

She picked up her own glass with a shy smile, “I hope so too.”

Emma wandered up the stairs to bed in a daze, glowing with happiness after such a wonderful dinner. She’d never laughed so much or felt so seen in her entire life. She had thought, when they’d finally polished off the meal and the last drops of wine, that he might put an offer of something more on the table, but he’d simply cleaned up the dishes and helped her tidy up. Then he murmured that it was probably time for him to take his leave, and she’d guided him to the door.

“It was my greatest pleasure, Emma,” he said quietly. Then he’d shifted forward and her breath caught, thinking he was finally going to kiss her. But instead he just reached for hand and brought her knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her skin, sending gooseflesh up her arm. “Good night love. Sleep well.”

“Good night, Killian.”

She’d slowly shut the door, trying to keep her eyes on his soft smile for as long as possible before the door clicked shut. And now she felt like she was floating up the stairs. Until she was brought up short by the light gently spilling out from her bedroom door. A door she knew she closed behind her this morning.

Her heart picked up at the thought that he had set up one more surprise for her. She hurried down the hall and opened her door, only to burst out laughing.

For sprawled across her bed was a new blanket covered in cartoon pirates in various seductive poses, and laying across one side of the bed was a full length body pillow with the image of the cartoon Captain Hook on it. She noticed a paper propped up against the end of the pillow and hurried over to it.

Its a shame you didn’t let me shiver your timbers, but I understand that there is not pillaging and plundering on a first date. But still, I’d love to have seen your booty. ;)

That broke her. She threw the valentine back down on the bed and ran back down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time. She rushed to the front door, fully prepared to give chase and demand he make good.

But when she ripped the door open, there he stood, shit eating grin spread across his face.

“Something the matter love?”

“Oh shut up.” Then she reached out and yanked him to her by his lapels and he went willingly, meeting her for a fierce kiss. When she finally had to breath, she pulled back and couldn’t help the question that had been plaguing the back of her mind all night.

“Why?”

He gave her a soft smile, “Don’t you know Swan? I’m sick.”

Her blood froze, “What?”

“Aye, I think I must have caught it from your boy.” He gave her a teasing grin. “I’ve come down with that most common of afflictions.”

And the only way she could think of to reply to that was to jump into his arms and kiss him some more. It didn’t matter if he was sick, because she was pretty sure she’d caught it too.

It was the most common of afflictions, after all.

#cs role reversal #Captain Swan #imagnifika #gingerchangeling does writing #once upon a time

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mingjue · 5 years ago

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another sangcheng cuddling bit :) set in early nights, but this wont be in their version of it i think

(requested by @adhdgays )

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

Arguing with his older brother was probably the most mentally draining thing Huaisang could go through. Both of them were stubborn. Both of them hated admitting they were wrong-- especially Mingjue, even if they knew they were wrong. Once they got a story or point they believed, they stuck with it even when proven wrong. It was annoying and tedious, but the one thing he could be thankful for was Mingjue refraining from yelling at him.

He’s gotten close though, if slamming the front door so hard it broke the metal frame said anything.

Nie Huaisang always took the bullet train straight to Lotus Pier right after these fights. Sometimes he would text Jiang Cheng to let him know he was coming-- sometimes he didn’t. He wanted to talk this time, because sitting in a train for two-ish hours being left to his thoughts wasn’t the best.

Jiang Cheng had been asleep when he texted him, so his reply came late. He didn’t mind. He actually felt a little bad waking him up so late. At the moment it was pretty much 1 am, anyways. But Jiang Cheng started texting him back, starting a small conversation.

NHS: i’m gonna be there in about 15 mins i think JC: o i should. come pickbu up then NHS: nonono i can walk bby NHS: u’re too sleepy :/ JC: nah JC: it windyas hel right now i don t wan u getting sick. NHS: u literally can’t type rn i’m walking. it’s a ten minute walk anywyas shut up JC: :(

Huaisang bit back a smile at that.

JC: if yu get sick in going to thro ubback to qinghe i caNNOT get sick NHS: i’m gonig to get you sick >:) JC: no. ffs

The smile finally broke through, and he covered his face with his hand instinctively.

Nie Huaisang entered the home as quietly as he could, locking the front door once again behind him. After . . . Zixuan’s death, Jiang Yanli and her son was living with Jiang Cheng. He didn’t want to disturb them.

He took off his jacket and put it on one of the jacket hooks, kicking off his shoes at the step, but kept the bag he’d been holding-- he packed a bag intending to stay tonight, and tomorrow night.

Not particularly being fond of how dark it was, he didn’t linger there for long. He made his way to the hallway of bedrooms and went straight to Jiang Cheng’s. Even if he didn’t need to, he knocked before opening it.

“Why should I not attempt to beat Mingjues ass right now,” He was greeted by a slurring voice coming from Jiang Cheng, who shut off his phone and tossed it to his nightstand.

“Because he’s probably twice your weight,” Huaisang hummed-- and suddenly tears pricked his eyes. He shut the bedroom door behind him, letting his bag fall to the floor before he walked over to the bed. He fell onto it beside Jiang Cheng, pulling the half asleep man into his arms to nuzzle the back of his neck, “It’s kinda my fault the argument happened anyways.”

Jiang Cheng hummed and settled against him, hands gently gripping his.

“What happened?”

“I . . .” His voice finally wavered, the guilt he felt when he first boarded the train hitting him immediately, “You know how he’s been having these like . . . breakdowns more frequently?”

“Yeah.”

“We were already arguing about that, right,” He hugged Jiang Cheng tighter, “And he was getting pissy about me wanting to talk about it in the first place, because Lan Huan’s been bothering him about it, but it all escalated--” He furrowed his brows and blinked at an attempt to hold back tears, “God-- basically I told him he’s acting like dad--” Jiang Cheng muttered a quiet, ‘oh damn’, “--and I was getting tired of dealing with him.”

Nie Huaisang flinched with a guilt-ridden sob and buried his face into Jiang Cheng’s neck. At that, he turned in Huaisangs arms to hold him in a tight hug, so his head was now at Jiang Cheng’s chest.

“. . . That,” Jiang Cheng paused, “You’re right to be annoyed with him, baby.”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Huaisang cried, “Our dad was a piece of shit.”

“I know.”

“A-Cheng I made him cry.”

“Oh.”

They both stayed quiet for a moment. Huaisang nuzzled into Jiang Cheng’s chest while he slowly rubbed his back.

“Is he still at the house?” Jiang Cheng asked a few minutes later, gently kissing Huaisang on the top of his head.

“He left before I did.”

“And he isn’t on good terms with Lan Huan right now.”

“I don’t know.”

“Hm.”

Both of the men flinched when there was a soft knock at the door.

“Yeah?” Jiang Cheng grunted, then the door silently opened.

“Are you alr-- oh!” It was Jiang Yanli. Nie Huaisang turned to look at her but immediately turned away again-- he was still crying, “I didn’t realize A-Sang was here, sorry.”

“No you’re fine, did we wake you?”

“A-Ling woke me first, but you’re fine,” She paused, “There’s leftover soup I can heat up for you two, if you need.”

“Shijie, it’s almost two AM.”

“I don’t mind.”

Huaisang sniffled and brought a hand to his face to rub at his eye, “Thank you, I don’t know if I can eat right now though.” Jiang Cheng hummed in agreement.

“Alright,” She stepped out of the doorway, “Be sure to get sleep, okay? Goodnight.”

Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng said goodnight in unison as she shut the door.

“. . . Your sister is so nice, A-Cheng,” Huaisang mumbled, “Mingjue would smother me in a hug before telling me to get over it, then never talk about it again.” Jiang Cheng scoffed in a laugh.

“At least he’d hug you.”

“Yeah,” He frowned, “. . . I hope he’s okay.”

“I’m sure he is,” Jiang Cheng backed away to look at him, “I don’t think anything could really fuck him up this late.” Huaisang hummed.

They were quiet for a little longer. Eventually, Nie Huaisang prodded him to turn back around so he could hug him from behind again, poking at his chest and belly to tease him as he did.

Before he could really get settled though, he huffed upon realizing he left his phone in his jacket pocket.

“I need to go get my phone,” He said, “In case Mingjue texts me or something.”

“He can text my phone.”

“He’s not going to, you know that,” Again he sniffled before placing a kiss on Jiang Cheng’s neck, just below his jaw, “I’ll be right back.”

He went to grab his phone as quickly as he could so he could rush back to Jiang Cheng’s room. As he did, he unlocked his phone, and sure enough there were texts left by Mingjue, and surprisingly Lan Huan.

NMJ: where are yuo. NMJ: Sangsang. NMJ: are you at Wanyin’s. NMJ: if you are asleep text me when you wake up ok. NMJ: or call me. NMJ: im sorry.

LXC: Do you know where your brother is? I can’t get a hold of him. Sorry for texting you so late :( LXC: Never mind, he showed up at the hotel. I hope you’re doing okay! :(

Huaisang frowned. Mingjues were sent just a few minutes ago, but Lan Huans were sent almost 20 minutes ago. Entering Jiang Cheng’s bedroom once again, he went to text Mingjue.

NHS: i’m at jcs da-ge

“He texted you?”

“Yeah, him and Lan Huan.”

NMJ: good. NMJ: im with A-Huan right now. NMJ: lunch when you get back. ok NMJ: ? NHS: ok NMJ: ok. goodnight Sangsang. NHS: goodnight

Huaisang sat down on the bed, “I think he’s going to act like nothing happened.”

“Don’t let him,” Jiang Cheng grunted, “Obviously you two have shit to talk about.”

“Yeah,” He sighed deeply and turned off his phone, setting it next to Jiang Cheng’s, “He wants to go for lunch. I’ll talk with him about it then,” As he spoke he turned around and laid next to him, once again pulling him into his arms. He nuzzled him before pressing a few more kisses along his neck-- which made Jiang Cheng raise his shoulders at being tickled, “Can I stay tomorrow night?”

“You can stay as long as you want,” Jiang Cheng grabbed his hand, “It’s stupid coming from me of all people but don’t try and avoid talking to Mingjue.”

“You’ve always been a bit of a hypocrite A-Cheng.”

“Oh fuck off,” He chuckled. Huaisang leaned over and kissed him on the corner of his lips with a small smile.

#thats maybe an awkward ending?? but its HERE #Sangcheng #Nie Huaisang #Jiang Cheng #My Writing #EARLY NIGHTS AU #yeah this is probably wack but um. sangsang

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manage-mischief · 5 years ago

Text

Picture Prefect

Read on AO3 here.

Author’s Note: So, I’m not really sure I ship Dramione. At least, not in an endgame type of way. But, this idea came to me while rereading Harry Potter for the umpteenth time. I think there definitely could have been more to Draco’s character than was in the books/movies. I felt like it would be interesting to understand Hermione’s relationship to him, and that there was likely a bit of romantic tension/pining that may have been behind some of Draco’s actions/motivations. You know what they say about little boys and pulling girls’ pigtails on the schoolyard. Anyways, this takes place during OoTP, before Dumbledore leaves. This is also my first FF, so I’m still learning. I’ve just always thought about writing something but have been too nervous before now. Any kindfeedback or reviews would be appreciated. Thanks in advance :)

Disclaimer: I’m not J.K. Rowling. I own nothing.

Summary: Hermione goes on evening patrol with Draco Malfoy and things progress quite differently than expected. Secrets, lies, and broom cupboards may be involved.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we,” she sighed as she descended the stairs and laid eyes upon her patrol partner for the evening.

He gave a noncommittal grunt in return. Uncharacteristically pleasant this evening, she noted. Without a word, the pair set off past the Great Hall and got to work.

When Hermione had first discovered she was going to be a prefect for Gryffindor House last summer, she had been thrilled, but not surprised. She had top marks in all of her classes, and a (mostly) clean disciplinary record. Sure, she, Harry, and Ron had had a few run-ins with the wrong side of the law. Still, there was, at least in her humble opinion, no one more qualified for the job. When she found out that Ron would have the job alongside her, she had been that much happier. During the celebration held at Grimmauld Place, she had never felt prouder. Yes, she was an intelligent girl. Yes, she had even scored a date to the Yule Ball with internationally-renowned quidditch seeker Viktor Krum (and had especially enjoyed the look of jealousy and disbelief on Pansy Parkinson’s face, she might add), but this accomplishment somehow carried more weight for her.

Being muggle-born, she knew that there were some who viewed her as unworthy of Hogwarts. Some would even go to unspeakable lengths to try and force her out of the wizarding world—as she had learned the hard way during her bout of paralysis-via-basilisk during her second year. But, here she was: the top of her class, muggle-born prefect. The prefect title meant something. Anyone in her world could understand the accomplishment, and no one could deny her the honor that the title bestowed.

Ok, maybe she was a bit over-enthusiastic about the role. It did seem that, most of the time, she was nothing more than a glorified hall-monitor. Yet, she wore her badge with honor. And, as she and Ron strode towards the Prefects Compartment on the Hogwarts Express on her first day she felt that nothing could have lowered her spirits. That is, however, until she saw him. Her new colleague, leaning against a table with his usual, haughty, I’m-better-than-you-because-I’m-pureblood air, his blond hair standing out in stark contrast with his dark robes with emerald green accents. Draco Malfoy.

And so, this is how she ended up on evening patrol on this otherwise wonderful night with a boy who was, in her opinion, one of the rottenest snakes to ever roam the halls of Hogwarts.

The first time she had met Draco had been on the Hogwarts Express during her first year. Bright-eyed and bushy-haired as ever, Hermione had hugged her parents goodbye and wandered onto the magical locomotive, anxious yet elated. She had been thrown into the magical world so fast. One minute, she had been running from bullies in the park by her house as they called her a freak. The next, she was meeting with a stern-but-kindly witch who explained to her that she was talented and special. Hermione was determined to learn as much as she could about her knew world as fast as she could, so she would be able to prove herself at school. Once she set her mind on something, nothing could stop her.

Armed with countless wizarding books and a new bank of knowledge, she confidently strutted into a train compartment and took a seat. She cheerfully introduced herself to the three other young wizards already occupying the space. The others followed suit. Two large, intimidating boys introduced themselves as Crabbe and Goyle. She was pretty sure those were last names, but had a feeling that prying for more information would be futile, seeing as they had both grunted out one-word answers to her questions and then looked away. They did not seem very bright. The third boy had brilliant blond hair and smiled in a way that made her blush slightly in spite of herself. “I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy. It’s a pleasure,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

Draco had been overly friendly to respond, and all too eager to converse with Hermione. They asked each other about their wands, their favorite shops in Diagon Alley, and the classes they were most excited to take. “I can’t wait for Transfiguration. I know it’s one of the more difficult branches of magic, but it seems quite fascinating,” Hermione blabbered on cheerfully. She had been very proud of herself for holding her own during this conversation. Her reading and preparation had paid off! Draco seemed to have no idea she hadn’t grown up in a wizarding household.

He smiled at her. “Well, I hope we’re sorted into the same house. It’ll be a shame if I can’t spend any more time with you in the future.” Hermione again blushed. She kind of liked Draco’s cockiness and confidence. “So,” he continued, “where d’you want to be sorted? I know where I’ll be…Slytherin. My family has been in Slytherin for generations,” he remarked, haughtily.

“Oh, I’m not sure I have a strong preference. Although, Gryffindor seems like it would be a good fit. Or Ravenclaw. I guess we’ll see,” Hermione said.

“Where were your parents when they were here?” Draco asked, eagerly.

“Oh…well…they didn’t go to Hogwarts,” Hermione replied. She didn’t know why she didn’t reveal that her parents were Muggles. She wasn’t the least bit ashamed. But, something about the boy’s mention of his Slytherin family heritage made her wary. Hadn’t she read somewhere that Slytherins were obsessed with blood purity? Surely that was ancient history. It couldn’t mean this boy believed that only pureblood witches and wizards were worthy of magical education, right? After all, with such a small portion of the population having magical blood, there must be hardly any purebloods left!

“Oh, so they went somewhere else? Ilvermorny? Durmstrang? My father wanted to send me there, says Hogwarts’ Headmaster is an old crackpot…”

“No, no. They didn’t go to any magical school. They’re muggles,” Hermione interrupted. Immediately, the tone of the conversation took a sharp turn. Crabbe and Goyle both stared at her as if she had grown an extra head. Draco sat up straighter in his seat, and where before there had been a playful look in his eyes, there was now only wide-eyed fear and accusing. “So, tell me, what makes you think you’re worthy to be here, talking about magic to me and my new friends, when your parents are so backward they probably can’t even tell a wand from a stick in the mud?” Draco sneered at her. His two cronies sniggered. Hermione knew she was not welcome anymore. She shot out of her seat, determined not to cry, and stormed out of the compartment. She could hear Draco’s voice in the distance as she quickly scampered away, fuming. “Well, boys, glad we got rid of her, eh?”

Of course, leaving that compartment was the for the best. She had met Neville and, not long after, her future best friends, Harry and Ron. Luckily, not all wizards were as closed-minded as Malfoy had been. She had not let him get to her, and since then, had outperformed him in every class. Still, she always found it strange to reflect back on the one pleasant conversation she had had with him and relate that cute, smiling boy to the absolute toe-rag she knew today.

Speaking of today, it was getting late, and Hermione was becoming fed up, fast. Her and Malfoy had only been patrolling for half-an-hour, yet it felt as if it had been an eternity. They walked in silence, keeping at least a foot’s distance in between them at all times. The corridor was silent. It was shaping up to be a long, dreadfully boring night.

They reached the first-floor bathrooms around 11 o’clock. “I’ll check the girls and you check the boys,” Hermione broke the silence. Malfoy rolled his eyes and sarcastically replied, “no really Granger? What an ingenious idea.” She simply shook her head and went to check for students out of bed. The bathroom was empty.

“Nothing in there.” She saw Malfoy emerge from the boys’ loo across the hall. “Same here.” On they went.

Half of their shift had now passed, and all they had seen was a sleepwalking Ravenclaw first-year, who Hermione had gently guided back to bed. They were passing by the statue of George the Smarmy when suddenly, she heard footsteps. She paused and cocked her head.

“C’mon Granger,” Malfoy sighed. “It’s probably Filtch and Mrs. Norris.”

“Hush!” Hermione hissed. It most certainly was not Filtch. The footsteps clicked, making it clear their owner was wearing high heels. They were approaching fast. She couldn’t ignore her gut feeling that something was amiss. But, what was it? Why did the footsteps sound so familiar to her? “Have you lost your marbles? Let’s go! It’s a professor or someone! Nothing we have to worry about!”

Aha. It was a professor. Of course. That’s why Hermione recognized the footsteps immediately. She could hear in them the haughty sense of purpose that made her loathe Defense Against the Darks Arts classes daily. Umbridge. Just as she could hear the toad-like professor approach their corridor, another pair of footsteps sounded in the distance. Umbridge must have been meeting someone. But who, at this hour?

She didn’t know why she did it. Perhaps it was because she was on edge from all of the secrecy surrounding the DA. Perhaps it was because of the wrenching feeling in her gut that Umbridge was up to more than she let on here at Hogwarts. But, no matter the reason, before she knew it, she was grabbing Malfoy by the front of his robes and pulling him into the nearest broom closet.

“What the bloody hell, Granger?!?” he hissed indignantly. At least he had the sense not to shout. Otherwise, their cover would have been blown. “What’re you playing at?”

“Be quiet,” she shushed him promptly. Quickly, she pulled out the pair of extendable ears she kept hidden in her pockets. As much as she hated to admit it, Fred and George had really hit the mark with their creation. She always kept a pair with her, and had found them to come in handy on many occasions. As she fiddled with the device, Malfoy continued to look at her, wide-eyed. “What the hell are those?!”

“Extendable ears, now, HUSH!” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “Extendable what?” “Ears. They let you listen in on other peoples’ conversations without getting caught. Now please kindly shut up so I can hear what’s going on!”

“…in this time of night. I wanted to do this privately. Most students use this corridor to snog without getting caught, so I thought it would do the trick.”

Umbridge’s girly voice echoed. Malfoy was still staring at her with a look of pure confusion.

A private meeting. But with who?

“Of course, Dolores. Do you have any updates?”

The second voice belonged to a man. She knew she had heard it before. But…it couldn’t be…

“Oh my god,” Malfoy whispered, now seemingly as invested in the conversation as Hermione had been. “What’s Fudge doing here?”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Fudge. The Minister of Magic. She was sure glad she had had the sense to hide in the cupboard, even if she was a little too close to Malfoy for comfort. She couldn’t have had him running away and blowing her cover.

The pair of them remained quiet, now both eager to hear what was going on.

“Well, Cornelius. I’m afraid matters at Hogwarts are far worse than we feared.”

“How so?”

“Well first of all, there’s the Potter boy. He and his little friends seem determined to undermine my authority at every turn! He has no respect for the Ministry. Always going on about You-Know-Who despite my countless warnings and punishments!”

There was heavy silence for a moment before Fudge spoke again.

“And do the other students believe him?”

“Some do. Others think he’s gone mad. Most don’t know what to think, and it has been hard for me to convince them to take our side, despite our efforts to disparage him in the Prophet.”

“Surely these students have more sense than to believe the word of a 15-year-old boy over the Ministry and the Prophet! Why are we having such difficulty keeping this under control? I thought I could trust you to handle this, Dolores.”

“I…I am doing all that can be done! But that’s the thing. It isn’t just Potter who has been proclaiming the story that You-Know-Who has returned. It’s Dumbledore, as well. It is not so easy to discredit the Headmaster in the Prophet. He is too well known and well respected. Students love him. Which is why I am proposing that we focus our efforts on a new plan.”

“Yes?”

“Removing Dumbledore from this school, and making me Headmistress.”

“That is quite easier said than done, Dolores. You said it yourself, Dumbledore has the respect of the student body, as well as most of the parents, I might add. Implicating him in illicit activity to remove him from Hogwarts will be extremely difficult.”

“We almost got Potter, this summer.”

“Yes, and the fact that those Dementors even showed up in Little Whinging was a happy accident! How can we expect something like that to happen again? And at Hogwarts, no less?”

“Yes…a happy accident…well. I shall keep my eyes open for any ‘accidents’ that will allow us to relieve Albus from his post. In the meantime, you’d best be heading back to London. It is getting late. But I promise you this, Cornelius. Come hell or high water, I shall make sure Albus Dumbledore never sets foot in this school again. You can count on me.”

“We’ll see, Dolores. Have a good evening.”

Their footsteps echoed down the halls and disappeared into the night.

“I can’t believe it,” Hermione exclaimed. “That conniving little…”

“Blimey Granger. I thought you were intelligent!” Malfoy rolled his eyes. She glared daggers at him, daring him to continue insulting her. He sighed, “Of course the Ministry’s trying to oust Dumbledore! Fudge is scared of him. He thinks Dumbledore’s going to take his job.”

Hermione was taken aback at his words. She had known this information, of course, thanks to her months of living with the Order. Still, she was surprised that Malfoy knew this information, and that he had been so willing to admit it. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Draco couldn’t have come across this information by himself. What was his shifty father telling him?

“Like you even care,” Hermione tersely responded. “You and your father have been trying to get rid of Dumbledore since the day you arrived here! And probably before! You’d just love old Umbridge to become Headmistress and become her little pet.” Ok. Tirade over. Yelling at Malfoy, while satisfying, wasn’t going to do her any good. Hermione knew they should be continuing their patrol. Plus, she wanted to return to the Common Room and fill Harry and Ron in on the evening’s events. Hopefully they’d still be awake…

“You always think you know me, but you don’t.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione whipped her head towards him just before she was about to exit their cramped hiding spot. Had she heard correctly?

Malfoy gave a sad sort of grunt. He hesitated for a moment, as if considering whether or not he should continue. Hermione continued staring at him intently. She was mystified.

“You and your little Potter Protection Squad. You all always think you know me, know my story, know my life. ‘Oh, Malfoy hates everything good. He’s always out to ruin things for us. He’s a jerk. He’s the enemy. He’s evil,’” he mimicked her in a high-pitched voice. Hermione couldn’t speak, still baffled. He continued.

“For your information, I detest Umbridge just as much as you do. I just know how to be subtle about it. And I know my place. I know what happens to me if I don’t get on her good side. You wouldn’t understand. You’re from a muggle family.”

“You know what, Malfoy? I am absolutely sick and tired of you bringing up my parentage. I have as much of a right to be here as you! And I understand plenty, thank you very much! I am top of our class and work hard to prove myself to intolerant people like you and your family every single day! Don’t you forget you were impressed by me when we met on the Hogwarts Express first year! Impressed by more than just my knowledge of the wizarding world, I might add!” She spit back, her breath labored from the force of her outburst. She could feel her cheeks flushing. It had been an unspoken agreement between them to never mention their first encounter. She could see his face tint red as well.

He stared at her for a moment. Then, without warning, grabbed her by both of her arms and turned her so they were face to face, which was quite cramped due to their inopportune hiding place. His gesture was not threatening, however. He looked sad.

“You don’t understand. I…I sometimes envy that you’re from…well…your background.” He huffed. “I mean being a Malfoy is an honor. People envy me.” His voiced switched back to the shaky timbre it had been. “But…there’s certain…expectations. My family is one of the greatest pureblood lines in wizard history. Malfoy and Black. We have a reputation to uphold. My father reminds me of that every chance he gets.” His face darkened. “I have to hate Dumbledore. I have to be friends with people like Crabbe and Goyle. I have to suck up to Umbridge and support her for headmistress. You don’t understand what happens if I don’t.”

Hermione continued to stare at him. She blinked, trying to understand why and how Draco was capable of showing such vulnerability with her. He searched her face, almost desperately, for a reaction. Hermione softened her face. Perhaps there was more to him than she thought. Maybe he just needed someone to listen. When he realized her receptiveness, he spoke once again.

“Everyone in my family expects me to be like my father. Become a…” he stopped himself. But she knew what he would have said. “Well, become like him,” he carefully worded. “No one has ever asked me what I want to do. And I can’t tell them. I can’t tell my family to shove it…that I don’t want to be part of their circle! That I’m terrified of what’s coming and of what I’ll have to do!” Draco’s voice broke. Hermione remained silent, entranced. Without thinking, she took his hand gently. They both looked down at their hands, now touching. When he spoke again, he refused to meet her gaze.

“My parents were part of an arranged marriage. Even their lives weren’t their own. Everything…every bloody thing that’s ever happened in my life and before has been about blood purity. About money, and power, and respect. They expect me to uphold that tradition. I’ll marry a pureblood girl. I can’t object. I’ll be disowned. Banished. Burned off of the family tree for even thinking about, as they call it, ‘tainting the bloodline.’” He sighed once more. He finally brought his eyes back to meet hers. His stare was intense and a bit frantic. Hermione felt her heart pounding in her chest and her cheeks growing hot. Who was this boy, and what had he done with the tosser Draco Malfoy? At least she knew how to deal with him when he was being a jerk. But this? This vulnerable Draco standing before her? Her brain could not figure him out.

His voiced softened further. “I’m sorry I’ve called you names. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I truly am.” And then, it rose once more, “But don’t you understand? I have to act this way! You terrify me, Hermione. And…that just…can’t happen. I…I don’t have a choice.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The pressure in her chest was too much to bear.

“Draco. Everyone has a choice,” she whispered, softly, her eyes still locked on his.

He swallowed. Then, he leaned forward, slowly. She could feel her own body move towards his in response. Her heart pounded and her mind went blank as she felt his strong arms wrapping around her and pulling her into a kiss. She pressed into him, her body moving with his in a passionate dance. He ran his hands through her hair. She could feel her pulse rising, heat surging through her body. The pair continued hungrily for a few more moments. Then, as if on a timer, they both regained composure and pulled back from each other, panting. Hermione smoothed out her hair. Draco fussed with his now-disheveled robes. They regarded each other once again, neither sure what to say to the other.

Hermione blinked in a vain attempt to regain focus. She couldn’t deny that had been the most passionate kiss she’d ever received, including those from Viktor—who had more than once professed his love for her. But, she thought to herself, that will never excuse his behavior. He had humiliated and degraded her, time and time again. The names he had called her were almost unforgivable. Had he changed? She couldn’t be sure. But, one late-night encounter in a broom closet was far from enough proof for Hermione. After a few moments of silence, she realized he was waiting for her to speak. To say something about what just happened. Her mind was still racing too fast to latch onto a single thought.

“I’m sorry about your family Draco. That sounds very hard.”

Oh, if she could have kicked herself in the moment! Sorry about your family?!? That sounds hard?!? She felt like a proper wanker! What an idiotic response to what had just happened!

“I wish things were different,” he replied. This shocked her.

“Are you saying you want to be with me?” She inquired.

“I’m not sure,” he answered, almost inaudibly, sheepishly running his hands through his hair.

“Draco,” she sighed. This was all too much information for Hermione to handle. “I’m not sure, either. Thank you for apologizing for calling me those awful names…but…I’m not sure that’s enough. You just said it yourself. Your family life is complicated. I’m sorry. If you ever want to change, to escape, I will be here for you. And, I may even want…this…too. But, I won’t be the girl who you degrade in public and then snog in a broom closet when no one is watching. I don’t deserve that.”

Draco simply stared back at her for a long time. She could tell he was thinking. Would he really say he wanted her? Would he really change? Would she really want to be with him, even if he did? Ugh, Harry always said girls were confusing, but she was beginning to think that boys that were really the ones who were bonkers!

Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke once again, “I’m sorry. I just…” he shook his head. He glanced towards the door. “We had better finish patrol and then head to our dorms.” Under his breath, Hermione heard him mutter, “I have a lot to think about.”

Unable to form any intelligible words, she just nodded her head. The pair emerged from their cupboard and set off back down the corridor, as silent as before. When they finally parted for their respective common rooms, they met each other’s gaze once again. Draco smiled softly, “Goodnight, Hermione.”

She gave a tentative smile in return. “Goodnight, Draco.”

As she entered the Gryffindor Common Room, she was deep in thought.

“Oi, Hermione! You’re back late,” Ron shouted to her from the table in the corner, on which Harry and him had stacked piles of books and essays. In the back of her mind, she mentally rolled her eyes. Of course, they hadn’t finished their homework.

“Was patrol with Malfoy as awful as we thought?” She gave a noncommittal sigh which Harry took for annoyance. “That bad, huh? What a git,” he shook his head. He and Ron then launched into a conversation about how much they hated Draco Malfoy. Hermione did not listen. She was still deep in thought, her thoughts swimming as if she were looking at them from the surface of a pensive: slippery and liquid and not quite fully formed.

“You alright, Hermione?” Ron asked, snapping her back to reality.

“Fine,” she answered half-heartedly. “Just dead tired. I think I’m going to head to bed.”

She climbed the stairs to the 5th year girls’ dormitory, and told herself she would tell the boys about Umbridge’s conversation in the morning. Right now, she was too preoccupied with thoughts of a certain Slytherin prefect to think about anything else. As she crawled into bed and closed the curtains of her four-poster, she found herself clinging to a small bit of naive hope. It did seem like Draco was serious when he kissed her. Maybe, just maybe, people could change for the better, even people as entrenched in the pureblood movement as Draco Malfoy.

She should have known it was silly to hope for such things.

#harry potter #hp fanfic #hp #dramione #draco x hermione #draco malfoy #hermione #hermione granger #being prefects #order of the phoenix #hp ootp #ootp #can pretty much be inserted into canon without changing much of anything #please be niceeee #my writing

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unfolded73 · 4 years ago

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Husbands: Two Years In (4/5) - schitt’s creek ff

This fic is complete, posting every other weekday. While I'm including it as part of the "Labels" series, the preceding fics are not required reading. Previous fics in this series: Boyfriends; “I Love You”, Partners, Fiancés

Warning: This fic deals with depression as one of its major topics.

Special warning for this chapter: This chapter comes with a referenced underage sex warning, although Justin has turned 18 by this point. The sex is only discussed in somewhat vague terms with Patrick, but there is a 4-year age difference between participants that some readers might find upsetting.

Rated Explicit, this chapter 4737 words. (ao3)

Thanks to @high-seas-swan for cheerleading and B13_MaybeThisTime for many valuable comments (and also cheerleading).

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 4: Autumn

The first thing that struck Patrick when he awoke was the quality of the light in their bedroom. The days were getting shorter, so why was the sun through the window so bright? He fumbled for his phone, saw the time was 9:23, and sat up with a start. He should have been at the store an hour ago, he thought, his heart starting to pound.

There was also a text notification from David, and he thumbed over it to read it.

David: You turned your alarm off 3 times so I figured you needed to sleep. I’m opening and you can come in whenever. ❤️ you.

Patrick quickly responded with I’m up now, sorry, a stab of guilt in his chest as he fought his way out from under their warm comforter. It was his job to make sure the store opened on time, just as it was David’s to close up without Patrick a few nights a week so that Patrick could get a head start on errands. But now David was carrying his weight because Patrick couldn’t manage to get out of bed on time. He berated himself throughout his morning routine and in the car all the way to the store. He decided on a quick detour to the café to pick up a coffee for David as thanks.

While he waited for Twyla to get his drinks, he spotted Ronnie across the room and gave her a half-hearted wave. She appeared to be finishing up, and she made her way over to the counter slowly, the check for her breakfast in hand.

“How are you, Patrick?”

“Good,” he said, even though it wasn’t anywhere close to the truth.

“Hey, I meant to tell you after the last council meeting but it slipped by mind. There’s an LGBTQIA+ group over in Thornbridge that meets up once a month that you might be interested in. I hadn’t heard anything about them in ages — thought they might have disbanded after marriage equality made some people think there wasn’t anything left we needed to fight for. Back in the day they used to organize protests, letter writing campaigns, things like that. I guess they still do.”

“Oh. That’s cool,” Patrick said, unsure where Ronnie was going with this. Wondering how she managed to rattle off all those letters so easily.

Ronnie huffed, annoyed. “You mentioned that you had missed out on the activism part of it all. This would be an opportunity for that if you were interested.”

Patrick frowned. “Thornbridge is a long drive.”

“Here you go, Patrick,” Twyla said, setting two to-go cups down in front of him.

Rolling her eyes, Ronnie handed her check to Twyla to ring up at the cash register. “Suit yourself.”

“No, I’ll… I’ll definitely look them up,” he said. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Uh huh,” she responded, her skepticism that he would do any such thing obvious in her voice. He couldn’t really blame her for that. He was skeptical too. Waving goodbye to Ronnie’s back as she left the café, Patrick sighed, then paid Twyla for the drinks.

He gave David a wincing smile as he entered the store. David was dealing with customers at the register, so Patrick set the drinks down on the counter and went over to see if any of the people browsing in the back of the store needed any help. Guilt churned in his stomach again, that David had been forced to come in early and work the store alone just because Patrick was too lazy to wake up on time.

When the store had finally emptied out from that little mid-morning rush, Patrick made his way over to David.

“I’m really sorry, David,” he said, picking up his tea from where it was still sitting in the cardboard tray.

That was David’s cue to be dramatic, to pile on with some teasing scorn for burdening him with opening the store. Patrick would feel perversely better if David flopped down on the counter right now and moaned about how much he had suffered this morning. Instead he gave Patrick a sweet smile and said, “Don’t worry about it.”

It was somehow worse. He didn’t want David’s generosity.

“I can close this evening.”

“You don’t have to do that. Closing is my job on Bethany’s days off,” David said.

“And opening is mine. So let me make up for this morning,” Patrick said, some of his testiness coming out in his voice.

“We don’t need to keep score. You’ve been really tired lately.”

“That’s not an excuse!” He was almost shouting. “David, just let me close.”

Now David looked a little annoyed. “Fine. Oh, also I took care of the car insurance payment.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes. “The what?”

“They called and said they hadn’t gotten our payment? So I paid them over the phone; I hope that’s okay.”

Patrick winced. There was a stack of unopened mail on his desk at home, he could see it in his mind’s eye, and he was pretty sure that the car insurance bill was in that stack. “Sorry, I guess I forgot.” He felt the urge to shout at David even though it wasn’t his fault, even though David had once again done something to help him. Or maybe because David had done something to help him.

“It’s no problem,” David said matter-of-factly. Then his eyes lit up. “Oh! And Ray called. He said there’s a retail space in downtown Elmdale that just opened up that we might be interested in.”

Doing his best to suppress the swell of panic he felt at that news, Patrick moved to go back into the storeroom behind the counter. “Uh huh.”

“He said it looked about the right size for Rose Apothecary,” David continued, following him. “What do you think? Should we go take a look at it?”

“Maybe,” Patrick said, shuffling a stack of invoices on the table.

David huffed. “Can you not show even the tiniest bit of enthusiasm?”

Patrick looked up and stared at him, caught between anger and guilt, when his phone chimed with a text. Patrick pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen.

Justin 🌈: i might need yr help

“Hang on, I’ve got to respond to this,” Patrick said as he typed, What’s up?

There was a pause, and then dots finally appeared as Justin typed. “Who is it?” David asked, sounding annoyed.

Justin 🌈: how long would it take you to get to toronto from where you live

“What the hell?” Patrick muttered as he typed: 4 hours, why?

“What’s the matter?” David asked.

“Justin is asking me how long it would take me to get to Toronto.”

“Your cousin Justin?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said as the next message appeared.

Justin 🌈: i’m stuck here and i don’t want to call my parents

“Okay, I’m calling him,” Patrick said, clicking the header at the top of the text chain and then clicking the call button.

“Hi,” Justin said when he answered, that tiny word somehow sounding ashamed.

“What do you mean, you’re stuck in Toronto?” Patrick asked without preamble.

“I took a bus here? And now I kind of don’t have anywhere to stay that’s… umm… safe.”

The bus trip from Patrick’s hometown to Toronto must have taken forever, he thought. “Do your parents know where you are?”

The phone speaker crackled with Justin’s heavy sigh. “They think I went with my friend Alison on a weekend trip to a waterpark in Niagara.”

“So you’ve woven a complicated web of lies is what you’re saying,” Patrick said, meeting David’s eyes. David grimaced with a mixture of sympathy and intense curiosity.

“I came here to meet someone, but…” Justin sighed again, and this time it sounded laden with tears.

Patrick took the phone away from his ear to look at the time. “If I leave now I might be able to be there by 2:30. Can you text me with where you’ll be?”

“Are you going to call my parents?” Justin asked.

Patrick hesitated. He did need to tell them, but he didn’t know what was going on yet, and he didn’t want Justin to change his mind and disappear into the city, never to be found. “Let’s talk about that later,” he said. “For now, just let me know where you are.”

As soon as he’d disconnected the call, he met David’s eyes regretfully.

David waved his hand to dismiss the apology that he could probably read on Patrick’s face. “Go.”

“He said he took a bus all the way to Toronto to meet someone, and it sounds like something bad happened.” Patrick said, his mind immediately going to all kinds of dark places.

David nodded like he had guessed as much from hearing Patrick’s side of the conversation. “I’ve been there. Well, in my case, it was taking the jet without permission to Berlin, but same idea. Go get him. I’ll take care of the store today.”

The drive felt interminable. Patrick tried to distract himself with an audiobook so that he wouldn’t think about the kind of man that would lure a boy to Toronto, and what that man might have done to him. It didn’t work. He eventually turned the book off, realizing that he hadn’t taken in a word of the story, and switched to music.

At the end of three and a half hours (he’d exceeded the speed limit a lot), Patrick parked in front of the diner that Justin had sent him the address for and went inside. He spotted the boy immediately in a booth, hunched over his phone, and Patrick steeled himself, walked over, and slid into the booth across from him.

“Do you want me to get you something to eat before we get on the road?” Patrick asked.

Justin shrugged. “You don’t have to do that.”

Patrick plucked one of the laminated menus out of the holder and opened it. “All I’ve had today is toast. I need to eat anyway. Are you sure?”

“Did you call my parents?” Justin asked.

“Not yet.”

Sighing, Justin grabbed a menu for himself.

Once a bored waitress had come over and taken down their orders for burgers and fries, Patrick leaned back in the booth and folded his arms. “Tell me what happened.”

Justin seemed braced for an argument, and he came out swinging. “Do you get that there’s only one other gay guy in my whole school? One. So it’s not like there’s anyone for me to date there.”

Patrick nodded. “I get that.”

“So I met this guy Mike on TikTok — I followed him, and he followed me, and we ended up DMing each other a lot.” Justin narrowed his eyes. “Please don’t ask me what TikTok is.”

“I don’t need to ask you what TikTok is,” Patrick protested, although really he only had the vaguest idea.

“We really… vibed with each other, and he goes to school here in Toronto so he invited me to come visit him for the weekend.”

“When you say he goes to school here…”

Justin huffed. “He goes to college here.”

“So he’s a few years older than you.”

“Four years is not that big of a deal.”

Patrick agreed with that in theory, but when one person is barely eighteen and the other is twenty-one or twenty-two, it could very well be a big deal. So far Justin had said nothing to soothe Patrick’s worries, and he felt like he needed to know the worst of it before he vibrated out of his skin. “Did he pressure you to do something you didn’t want to do?”

Justin squared his shoulders. “I’m not a kid.”

“I know you’re not. That kind of pressure can happen to adults too.”

As quickly as he’s drawn himself up, Justin deflated. “It wasn’t that. I felt like I was ready for… you know.”

Resisting the urge to trot out the old chestnut about how people who were having it needed to be able to say it, Patrick added, “for sex.”

“Yeah. But it… it was awkward and… and really not good and I just… I needed to get out of there this morning.” He put his head down on his folded arms. “I have a non-refundable bus ticket for tomorrow, but I didn’t have anywhere to go tonight, and—”

“Hey,” Patrick said, reaching over and putting a hand on his arm as the waitress showed up with their food. “I’m glad you called me.”

They ate in silence, and then Patrick paid for the meal and led Justin and his overstuffed backpack out to his car. Justin sank into the passenger seat, exhaustion in his every movement. Patrick wondered how much sleep he’d gotten. He sent David a quick text, letting him know that he had Justin and they were on their way back.

“Can I ask you something else?” Patrick ventured.

“I guess.”

“Were you safe with him? With Mike?”

“He used a condom, yeah,” Justin said.

Patrick heaved a sigh of relief. “Okay, good.” He started the car and pulled out into traffic. “If you’re going to be sexually active with multiple people, or, you know. With people you don’t know very well, it would still be good to get tested regularly. It’s a good habit to get into.”

“What, am I supposed to go to my pediatrician and ask him to test me for herpes and HIV and stuff?”

Patrick mulled that over. “Back when I was your age, there was a clinic about an hour away that I know people would go to for testing and, like, abortions. We can look it up when we get back to my place.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

They settled into silence, Justin staring out the window and Patrick focusing on driving carefully.

“I thought you were going to be a lot harder on me for going to meet a guy alone or whatever,” Justin eventually said.

“Well, don’t get me wrong, it was incredibly stupid to go hundreds of kilometers from home without telling anyone where you would be, to meet a guy that you’d only communicated with online. You’re lucky you weren’t sexually assaulted or murdered.”

“There it is,” Justin said, sinking lower in his seat.

“But I sympathize with doing a reckless, stupid thing for love.” He thought about going into business with a guy he didn’t know very well in part because he’d finally, for the first time, recognized that he had romantic feelings for another man. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with him.”

Another long silence passed. “I thought it would be… I mean, I knew it wouldn’t be like porn, but I’d read some stuff online, and he said he knew what he was doing, and I thought it would be…” In his peripheral vision, Patrick could see Justin cover his face with his hands.

“What?”

“I knew the sex might not be amazing, the first time, especially… you know. Doing… you know.”

“I don’t know, actually. Do you want me to guess?” Patrick said with a smirk, trying not to sweat too much over this conversation.

“Bottoming,” Justin finally said, his hands back over his face. The word was somewhat muffled.

“Oh.” Jesus, kid, you couldn’t start with a handjob? Patrick thought. His thoughts immediately went to his own first experience with that act, at Ray’s house with David while Ray was out playing poker. It was a very good memory. “I mean, it can be amazing, even the first time, with a patient partner.” He was very glad to have the road to focus on; he didn’t think he could have had this conversation looking his cousin in the eye.

Justin didn’t respond to that for a minute, back to staring out the window. Then he finally said, “Yeah, Mike was… not that, I guess.”

“He didn’t, umm… hurt you, did he?”

Justin snorted bitterly. “Not… I guess he just didn’t care if I enjoyed it or not.”

“Then he’s a complete asshole and you’re well rid of him,” Patrick said, thinking that he’d like to punch this Mike guy in the face. Convincing a young kid (albeit above the age of consent) to board a bus to come all the way to Toronto, and then to treat him like that… “I hope you blocked his number.”

“Yeah, did that while I was waiting for you to pick me up,” Justin said, his voice wavering. “God, I’m so stupid.”

“No, stop it. You’re not stupid. You did something rash and… and dangerous, but for understandable reasons.” He debated what to say next. “I will need to call your parents. I don’t need to tell them everything, not the… sexual details. But I can’t hide this from them. For one thing, we need to figure out how to get you back home.”

“I can take the bus.”

Patrick frowned. “I don’t feel great about putting you on a bus alone after what you’ve been through.”

“I’ll be fine,” Justin groused, and Patrick understood that teenage stubbornness, that visceral hatred of being babied.

“I know you will be,” he said.

He took Justin straight to the house when they got to Schitt’s Creek. Justin looked around with interest at his surroundings while Patrick first texted David to give him a quick summary of what happened, then went into their office/guest bedroom, closed the door, and phoned his cousin Sara.

“Patrick!” she said in answer to his call. “How are you? Everything okay with your parents, I hope?” Her quick words betrayed that immediate worry when a distant family member calls, that something terrible has happened.

“They’re fine. I’m actually calling about Justin.”

“Oh, he’s on a weekend trip with his friend Alison’s family. Did you not try his phone? He told me you guys have been texting, and I can’t thank you enough for being a friend to him.”

Patrick steeled himself. “Yeah, so what I have to tell you is that he’s not with Alison. He went to Toronto to meet a boy. It, umm, went badly, and he called me. I drove out there and picked him up and brought him back to Schitt’s Creek.”

There was a moment of silence, and Patrick imagined Sara trying to process all of that information at once. “What do you mean, it went badly. Is he okay?”

“He’s okay. Heartbroken, probably, but he’s not really talking about that. He’s safe.” Patrick said.

“Was he… did he have sex with this boy?”

Patrick ran a hand over his face. “Remember how you told me that I could keep his confidence as long as he was being safe? I told you the unsafe part, the… the getting on a bus to a big city to meet someone from the internet part. The rest of it, I think you’re going to have to ask him.”

She sighed. “Thank you for going to pick him up, Patrick. God, that must have taken you all day.”

“It’s okay. I’m happy to help,” he said, because he was. At the very least, it had effectively distracted him from his own problems for several hours. “He wants to take a bus back home. Are you okay with that? He can sleep here tonight and then I can put him on a bus tomorrow?”

“No, I should come pick him up,” she said, but she sounded uncertain. For good reason; it would be a fourteen-hour round trip for her to do that.

“I’ll watch him to make sure he gets on the right bus,” Patrick said. “And send you the schedule so that you’ll know when to expect him. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Her voice trembled, like the implications of what might have happened to her son were hitting her belatedly. “God, he could’ve been—”

“I promise he’s okay, Sara. Do you want to talk to him right now?” Patrick asked, opening the door and walking back out to the main part of the house.

“Yes, please.”

Patrick found Justin in the kitchen, standing awkwardly with his hands shoved in his pockets. “Your mom wants to talk to you,” he said, handing him his phone. He left the room to give Justin some privacy and went to make up the bed in the guest room. As he pulled sheets down from a shelf in the linen closet, it occurred to him that he’d been a little bit jealous of Justin, before: self-aware enough to understand his sexual orientation as a teenager and self-assured enough to come out to his parents. But it was just another path, another person’s journey to being their whole self — not better or worse than Patrick’s path, just different. And plagued with its own pitfalls.

Justin found him to give him back his phone as Patrick was smoothing a quilt over the neatly made bed.

“How mad was she?” Patrick asked.

“Pretty mad,” Justin said. “I’m definitely going to be grounded, but it’s not like I have anywhere to go anyway.” His hands went into his pockets again.

Patrick clapped him on the back. “Well, you can worry about that tomorrow. Want to come help me make dinner?”

That was how David found them when he got home. To his credit, David acted like a teenage houseguest was a normal occurrence, asking Justin politely about his high school and his interests and avoiding anything about the reason he was at their house.

At least, he did that until they were finishing dinner, when David draped his arm over the back of Patrick’s chair and said, apropos of nothing, “When I was sixteen, I convinced my dad’s pilot that I had permission to take the family’s private jet to Germany to meet a guy that I only knew over AOL Instant Messenger.”

Justin frowned with confusion. “What’s AOL Instant Messenger?”

David suppressed a whine. “Okay, never mind that part. That’s not the important part.”

“What happened?” Justin asked.

“The guy turned out to be in his forties and into a lot of kinky shit that I barely knew the terms for, much less—”

“David, I don’t know if this is an appropriate story—” Patrick began.

“All I mean is, you can do stupid stuff as a teenager and survive it and… and learn from it, I guess,” David said. “I don’t know! I’ve been where you are, that’s what I’m saying,” he huffed. “And one other thing, in case Patrick didn’t mention it. Something I didn’t know back then.” David was giving Justin a serious look. “Consent can be revoked at any time, for any reason. No matter what you may have consented to before.”

“Okay,” Justin said, blushing. “Thanks.” Then he wrinkled his nose. “Private jet?”

“My life was very different back then,” David said with an imperious sniff.

~*~

Patrick gave David a wan smile when he joined him in bed that night, after they’d spent the evening playing board games and watching TV with Justin before finally packing him off to the guest room to sleep. “Thanks for helping to keep Justin entertained.”

David got under the covers and let out a long breath. “He’s a good kid; he’ll be okay. He’s got that Brewer earnestness.”

Patrick laughed. “Brewer earnestness?”

“You heard me.”

They settled into silence, but neither of them reached to turn off their lamps. Patrick considered picking up a book and trying to read, but the hours and hours of driving had left him shattered. Maybe he’d just go to sleep.

Before he could turn off his light, he became aware of David looking sidelong at him. As Patrick so often could, he could read David’s face easily: David had something he wanted to say that he wasn’t saying.

“What is it?” Patrick asked, rolling to face David, one hand tucking up under his pillow.

“Nothing,” David said quickly, his eyes widening a little before he averted his gaze.

“David.”

There was a pause as David appeared to weigh his words. Every millisecond edged Patrick’s worry higher. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about earlier, but now with all of this Justin stuff, it seems like a bad time,” David said, not meeting his eyes.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

David exhaled audibly. “Don’t get mad at me.”

“Why would I get mad at you?”

“Because… look, I spent a lot of my younger years in therapy, and I’ve spent more years than that struggling with anxiety, you know that. I’ve had panic attacks. I still have spiraling, intrusive thoughts sometimes. Mental health is… it’s complicated.”

Patrick felt a cold spike of panic, and he pulled himself up into a seated position against the headboard. “Yeah.”

“So I of all people know that there’s no shame in needing help.”

“David—”

“I might be totally off base, but I think it’s possible that you’re depressed and it might not be a bad idea for you to see a professional,” he rushed out, wincing, his face twisting like he was bracing for an argument.

“I don’t… I’m fine.” The words came out without his permission, a denial from deep in his gut. He needed to be fine. He needed David to not be saying these things.

David sat up next to him, his hand reaching over tentatively to touch Patrick’s thigh. “You don’t seem fine,” he almost whispered.

Patrick felt a swirl of emotions: irrational anger and shame but also relief. Relief that David was putting a name to the thing that Patrick feared, and that he was pointing out a path that Patrick could choose to walk like it was no big deal. Like it was normal. But the shame momentarily rose up and dominated his mix of feelings, and Patrick drew his knees up and leaned his forehead against them.

“I mean I get it, I’m not an easy person to be married to, I know that, and—”

Patrick lifted his head. “What? David, no.” He grabbed David’s hand and squeezed it tight and swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. “You are the only bright spot in a sea of… of…” Lacking a suitable metaphor, Patrick brought David’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “It’s nothing to do with being married to you. I’m grateful every day that I’m married to you.” His eyes burned with unshed tears. “I’m just… I’m so sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” David asked softly.

Patrick let go of David’s hand and put his own hands together, twisting his wedding ring. “You shouldn’t have to deal with me like this.”

David’s arm went around his shoulders. “What are you talking about,” he said, like Patrick was being silly.

Patrick met his eyes again. “I’m supposed to be stable. I’m supposed to protect you and take care of you and—”

“Okay, but that’s not the way marriage works?” David said. “Sometimes I can be the protector. You can be the one that falls apart sometimes.”

“But that’s not who you married.”

“Patrick, I married you.”

Swiping away the tears from his eyes in frustration, Patrick resisted the urge to get out of bed to put some space between himself and David. “I wasn’t raised to talk about my feelings, you know that. Or at least, not to talk about difficult feelings.” He plucked at a loose thread on the blanket over his legs.

David chuckled. “I do know that, yes.”

“So I’ll probably be terrible at therapy.”

Kissing his cheek, David said, “Well, you’re naturally gifted at too many things, anyway. It’s past time for you to be terrible at something.”

“I’m terrible at a lot of things lately.”

“Mmkay, you’re going to learn about a thing called ‘recurring negative thoughts’ if you end up seeing a therapist,” David said, scratching affectionately at Patrick’s shoulder. “I think you and I will be able to bond over that one.”

Patrick leaned against David, in the circle of his arms, and let out a heavy breath. Not for the first time in their relationship, he felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. “Thank you, David.”

(Chapter 5)

#schitt's creek ff #schitt's creek fic #david x patrick #david x patrick fic #david x patrick ff #my fic

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misssophiachase · 4 years ago

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Here is it, part three! Unlike all my other stories each chapter is from dual points of view (divided into two parts) because I think this keeps the story moving faster and more fluidly. Let me know what you think of this format and the story so far : ) Read from the beginning at FF and AO3.

Synopsis: She skipped bail and he’s tasked to track her down. As a seasoned bounty hunter, it’s a fairly routine job on paper for Klaus Mikaelson but then he meets Caroline Forbes and has no idea what to do with her.

Thrill of the Chase - Part 3 - I Shot the Sheriff

Cumberland County, TN (Interstate 40)

Caroline

"Interesting song choice," Caroline offered, unable to help herself as the scenery rushed past her window. She decided to blame it on her friend called guilt that decided to rear its ugly head at the worst possible time.

"Why? You don't like Bob Marley?"

"Who doesn't like Bob Marley?" She countered, trying to ignore just how good he smelled from this close proximity. A mixture of soap, mint and something else enticing she couldn't quite identify.

She was actually a little thrown by the fact this very song was on her fugitive track list and the guy who picked her up on the side of the road just happened to be playing it.

Oh, and for the record, she didn't get in his car that easily, it took at least nine minutes. Even if every fibre of her being was ready to hop into his passenger seat as soon as he strolled over in all his blonde curls and black henley goodness. Caroline decided to blame it on distraction, pure and simple.

She'd managed to fumble through what she thought was fairly standard small talk followed by outlining her current dilemma. Given he had neither a spare tire or cell service, Caroline either had to trust him to call for help after leaving her by the road still stranded or go with him to the nearest town.

She figured the second option, albeit one her parents wouldn't endorse, was more expedient. She had places to be after all.

Yes, he could have been a serial killer, but she certainly wasn't squeaky clean herself. Plus, she was starving and had run out of snacks and really needed to use the restroom. She wasn't the pee in the bushes type of girl so Caroline had no other choice. Well, that's what she kept telling herself.

"So, do you think he did it?" She asked, probably against her best judgment.

"Did what?"

"Commit the crime. It's one thing to shoot the sheriff, because you know maybe he deserved it, but to be blamed for the deputy too? That's rough."

What he did next, she wasn't expecting. He let out a rich and throaty chuckle and Caroline didn't think it could sound any better than that sexy, English accent. But it did. It was so mesmerising that Caroline found herself laughing along.

"So, you're ready to throw the book at the poor guy?"

"No, I was just amused by your analogy. Here I thought the song was about corruption and injustice in general but you seem to take it almost personally." She cursed inwardly thinking that playing it cool was not her best trait.

Who was she kidding? She was woeful. Mainly because Caroline was a nosey person by nature but by posing questions she was just asking for them to be returned. She also didn't think they'd be analysing lyrics about committing crimes. Caroline might as well have stamped guilty all over her forehead.

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for the underdog."

"Nothing wrong with that, love."

"I have a name you realise?"

"Yes, but you didn't feel the need to share it when we first met even if I told you mine," he offered, his eyes not leaving the road. Even housed under those aviators, she didn't need to see them to know they were rolling.

"You could be a serial killer for all I know, Klaus," she said, emphasising his name. It was unexpected for sure but the more they talked, Caroline started to think it suited him. "Not that, you know, I'm, uh, giving you ideas or anything," she rambled, unable to stop the words tumbling from her mouth.

First, she was talking about shooting law enforcement and now mass murder. Yeah, Caroline was dealing just fine with her current situation.

"Thanks," he shot back. "You know, for not giving me any ideas. If I hadn't met you god knows how many people I could have killed today at least."

"You're hilarious," she drawled. "So, why did you stop? By the road I mean, not your killing spree."

"My conscience," he began. "It has this annoying way of niggling at me until I do the right thing. Plus, maybe if I do something good the universe will return the favour."

"I'm convinced that's an urban legend."

"Oh, like the killer in the backseat?" Caroline couldn't help herself and turned around to inspect it. "Gotcha."

Maybe the universe was more in tune than she first thought given it was playing tricks on her and not the good kind. Caroline had a mind to right all of her wrongs then and there but knew that would take a lot more energy and will than she currently possessed. She'd said as much to her friend Bonnie and that was only a couple of hours into her road trip.

"Your dad sent his favourite henchman to my apartment," she joked through the phone. "He could have at least sent one of the cute ones."

"I'm sorry, I'll be sure to tell him to send Tyler or Jesse next time," she drawled. "How is the lovely Alaric?"

"Urgh," she groaned. "I had to take a shower afterwards, he's that creepy."

"I'm sorry to put you in this position, Bon," she apologised. "When I made the decision to run I guess I didn't think about the ramifications. I should have realised that my parents know no bounds when it comes to harassing people, my friends included."

"Stop right there, Caroline Elizabeth Forbes," she chided. "I mean sure you didn't tell me you were actually going to run away in the first place but given the circumstances I can hardly blame you." Caroline winced knowing that it didn't sit well with one of her best friends.

"I didn't tell you because the less you knew the better," she reasoned, knowing she had good intentions at least. "I was always going to get in touch, I just needed to put some space between me and the city first."

"Well, now that he's gone can you please tell me why you've decided to go all Harrison Ford on me?"

"Clearly someone's been watching too many movies."

"And clearly someone is living one."

"I didn't kill my wife," she argued. "Not that Harrison Ford killed his wife either but you know what I mean."

"Please just tell me you have a plan and blasting NWA's choice thoughts about the police in your car doesn't count." Caroline muted her latest fugitive track, not realising just how loud it was playing.

"What makes you think I don't have a plan, Bonnie," she scoffed, feeling a little offended, even if she knew her friend was right. "I brought snacks and everything."

"Because that's the most important thing," she groaned. "I know things are strained with your parents and…"

"Don't say his name," she interrupted. "He, who shall not be named, doesn't deserve it."

"He called me."

"He what?" She squeaked, almost driving off the interstate as she said it. "I thought you would have had him blocked months ago."

"I kept his number so I knew if the idiot had the audacity to call, turns out he did," she explained. Caroline couldn't really argue given she'd done the same thing.

"When did he call?" Caroline asked curiously.

"About a half hour ago."

"Does he know that I…"

"No, I don't think so. I only answered to get him off your back and throw a few of those choice insults I'd stored up the past few months. But he said he's been trying to call you for a few days now, something you didn't feel the need to share obviously."

"Lucky me. Look, I didn't want to make you any madder than necessary given that hot temper," she continued before Bonnie could argue back. "I didn't answer and have no intention of listening to the string of pathetic voicemails he left either. Those are right up there with my parent's incessant pleas to get me to come home."

"He said he wants to talk."

"Well, too little too late," she muttered, thinking that nothing could salvage what was irreparably broken between them. Now, he was just messing with her and she didn't want to play. "But idiot aside, just know there's somewhere I need to be and I'll reevaluate things after that, I mean what's another week?"

Sure, she was living in a fantasy world but Caroline needed the time alone to put things into perspective. She figured her therapist Camille might even agree with that part.

"So, where is Kat these days?"

"Wow, I really suck at this 'on the run' thing."

"No, I just figured if anyone was going to play the Louise to your Thelma it would be her."

"Hey, I could be Louise!"

"You and I both know that's laughable," she joked. "And remember Thelma did get to do the nasty with Brad Pitt."

Instead of buoying her, the comment only made her feel pathetic that the last time she got laid was forever ago and the person was her poor excuse of an ex boyfriend.

"Well, what would a fugitive road trip be without bedding a cute cowboy in some skeezy motel," she quipped. There was only one guy she planned to see on this trip and things between them were purely platonic and uncomplicated. "Look, I should really get going, Bon, but I'll call you soon, okay?"

"Be safe," she murmured into the phone and Caroline felt like she was going to cry. It had only taken a few hours and she was already turning into a ball of emotional mush. Some hardened runaway she was.

"So, where are you going?" Caroline asked, determined to block out all other thoughts that might make her regret this little trip.

"Says the girl who won't tell me her name," he shot back, finally turning to face her, albeit briefly. Caroline shivered involuntarily, it seemed so much easier to converse when he wasn't looking straight at her, even in sunglasses. "Why? Where are you going?"

"Oh you know, here and there to visit some friends."

"How extremely specific," he joked. "I've been here and there and I have to say it's not too bad for the most part. You must have been a geography major, right?"

"You enjoy teasing me."

"What can I say? It's been a long drive so far, it's nice to have some company even if most of our conversation has centred around crime and punishment." Caroline felt her face warm, hoping that the blush creeping up her neck wasn't going to completely envelop her and give the game away.

She turned to look out her window, the scenery hadn't changed all that much since she climbed into his car but then she noticed a green sign ahead.

Welcome to Crab Orchard, Tennessee - Population 673

Looks like they'd arrived, to what and who Caroline wasn't quite sure.

Klaus

"Twizzler?" Klaus looked up distractedly to see his new, blonde friend waving a bunch of the red candy in his face.

"No, thanks," he offered. "I try not to eat anything…" he trailed off, subconsciously stroking his abdomen.

"Fun?" She inserted the word in his sentence, but didn't miss the way her eyes travelled to his abdomen and took in every stroke he made. Looks like Klaus wasn't the only one slightly distracted.

"Let's just say I practice this healthy regime and sugar is pretty much enemy number one."

"Like I said, no fun," she reiterated, her eyes finally meeting his and proceeding to bite onto one of the strands, her pink lips enclosing around it.

Klaus didn't think he'd ever seen something supposedly so innocent look anything but that. He watched in interest, unable to look away if he tried. When she started to moan happily from the taste, Klaus had to look away while trying to contain the thoughts he shouldn't be thinking in the first place.

She was a skip - his- after all. And apparently he was here to apprehend her, not entertain untoward thoughts. It seemed as if his professionalism had flown out the window the moment he clapped eyes on Caroline Forbes. He'd been inwardly arguing with himself for most of the drive. She was sitting in such close proximity to him completely unaware. The most unbelievable part? She was in his car without any need for coercion or handcuffs. Klaus couldn't remember the last time one of his felons had been this easy to capture.

Klaus figured it had something to do with her innocence and seemingly trusting nature. Something which intrigued him from the outset. If she was his friend or girlfriend he'd be absolutely affronted by her willingness to jump into a stranger's car but she wasn't. Although, if Klaus was being honest, he wasn't unwholly upset she was by his side at that moment.

At the same time, he couldn't help but think how good she smelled, a mixture of vanilla and roses - post rainstorm. She also had this adorable habit of scrunching up her nose when she spoke, a nose with a slight dusting of freckles he couldn't and didn't want to ignore.

Klaus shook his head, trying to concentrate. He really needed to apprehend her and he needed to do it now.

They were waiting for the mechanic in the sleepy, little town of Crab Orchard to tow her car back to the gas station and replace her busted tire. Klaus had offered just to purchase it and go back himself but the guy, who seemed way past retirement age, had insisted and refused to relinquish the tire otherwise. Klaus knew it was all a money making exercise but didn't argue. Given the size of the town they probably didn't get much business as it was.

So, here they were. Caroline moaning over twizzlers and him trying to ignore just how much it was affecting his resolve.

Crab Orchard was only a couple hours out of Nashville and it would have been so easy to keep driving and deliver her directly to Lucien's agent at the airport who would personally escort her back to New York. But something stopped him.

Yes, she was beautiful. He thought so when he saw her picture and then when he pulled up alongside her on the road but after talking to her, Klaus was incredibly intrigued. And he wanted to know everything about her.

He knew he had places to be, his siblings hadn't stopped reminding him as evidenced by numerous texts and his recent call while she was using the bathroom and buying a year's worth of snacks inside the tiny gas station.

"So, what do you think the Wicked Witch of the West wants?"

"Hello to you too, Kol."

"Don't tell me you're buying into Rebekah's drivel about the urgent need for this family reunion and down south of all places?"

"Of course, not," he shot back, thinking this was no doubt one of Rebekah's usual attempts to make herself the centre of the universe, not that she had to try all that hard. "You know I like to keep my family time to an absolute minimum."

"I'll pretend we're still talking about sister dear," he drawled sarcastically. "I don't know why I had to leave Chicago in such a hurry, we can't all have broomsticks to ferry us from place to place on a whim." Klaus had to fight the urge to laugh. Kol, albeit the epitome of an annoying, younger sibling, always had that keen ability to hit the nail right on its head.

"I suppose we'll find out in just under a week," he sighed, wondering how much longer Caroline would occupy his time before that. "Have you spoken to Elijah and Henrik?"

"You know how Elijah bores me, Niklaus," he replied knowingly. "Henrik is on his way from Florida with a girlfriend, Lizzie someone."

"Can't say I'm surprised that he's the only one with a girlfriend." Klaus and Kol liked to joke that Elijah should have been in the priesthood; his love life was that stagnant.

"And how about you?"

"How about me what?"

"How about your girlfriend, Hayley isn't it?"

"She's not my girlfriend, never was," he growled, probably a little too fiercely given his brother's response.

"Wow, message received," he laughed. "Although, does she know that? Because last time I visited she was being extremely girlfriend-like."

"I never asked her to be," he grumbled. "It was casual, nothing else, and for the record she knew that, well apparently." For some reason it was his bail skip that came to mind at that very moment and not his ex-girlfriend, or whatever she was. He didn't want to analyse why either.

"So, Lucien tells me he has you on assignment in Tennessee?" Klaus wanted to admonish his younger brother then and there for the job but for some reason he wasn't altogether upset anymore since meeting Caroline.

"Yeah, just have to apprehend this skip and send her back to the City," he murmured, thinking that wasn't what he wanted to do with her at all. "Piece of cake," he lied.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your bounty hunting," he teased. "Don't be too hard on the poor girl, whoever she is."

"I'll try," he muttered, disconnecting the call before she proceeded to tempt him with twizzlers.

"So, it looks like we don't have the right tire for this particular, vintage model," their great-grandfather of a mechanic explained.

"But, George, you said…"

"I said I'd look at it first before making any assessment," the geriatric swindler not dissimilar to one of his distant relatives interrupted. "I can have something first thing tomorrow."

Klaus stifled the urge to roll his eyes. It would be cheaper and much quicker for him to travel to Nashville and back with a new tire. But then Klaus realised that meant less time together and given he needed to gain her trust that wouldn't work.

"And where would we stay?" Caroline asked, impatiently tapping her heel on the ground. Clearly this was messing with her plans and Klaus wasn't altogether unhappy with the development, purely for bounty hunter purposes of course.

"My wife Eileen runs the cutest bed and breakfast just down the road, she'll give you a good deal." Given George's price gouging tactics, Klaus highly doubted that. "And my brother Jack runs the local bar, best beer and steak in three counties."

Of course he did but Klaus wasn't going to complain. As they made their way towards his car, Caroline nudged him playfully.

"Bed and Breakfast? How utterly quaint and romantic, just don't get any ideas, mister."

"I can't help that we are responsible for propping up the economy of this town and all of George's family."

"Well, I suppose with great power comes great responsibility," she joked. "And given we're stuck here together, the name is Caroline."

Even though he knew that from her file, Klaus had to admit her telling him felt nice. Klaus had no idea what she was doing to him but he wasn't complaining. Besides, what harm would one extra night do?

Lots as Klaus was about to find out.

#klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic #klaroline #misssophiachase #my writing #thrill of the chase #i shot the sheriff

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itsblissfuloblivion · 5 years ago

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metanoia

A/N: surprise holiday gift from @gryffindormischief & @fightfortherightsofhouseelves. Hinny Muggle Modern AU for your reading pleasure :)

FF and Ao3

_____

Honestly, if Sirius wasn’t the estate lawyer for Mrs. Figg, Harry probably never would’ve known about the shop. About his shop.

Because Mrs. Figg loved two things - cats and pizza. And apparently thought Harry should too.

It just so happens Harry’s most recent assignment has wrapped up - with a significant number of deranged menaces to society locked away. Though not enough. Harry has been victim to the knowledge of just how horrible a human can be since he could barely spell his full name.

And now, just about thirty years later, he’s bagged his fair share of serial killers - including the one that started it all. At least for him. He’s studied, tracked, and caught them with an endless supply of motivation. Motivation that Sirius has on more than one occasion called an ‘obsession’ or ‘avoidance.’

Harry likes to think of it as a positive outcome from a highly traumatic childhood. And saying it that way makes him sound like a well adjusted adult so he sticks with it.

Though in the privacy of his own mind, it sounds less and less true with each passing day.

Which is probably why the shop feels like a set up. A glass half full type might say kismet or destiny, but again, childhood trauma and possible suppression of feelings.

Sirius sighs. “You were rabbit trailing.”

Harry grunts. “Was not.”

“Tell me what I just said.”

“Pizza shop.”

“You are a terrible godson.”

“No family discount for you,” Harry says with a grin, swirling his coffee.

Rolling his eyes, Sirius resumes his explanation. “Arabella loved you in her own strange way and this is her even stranger way of showing it.”

“But - why ? I said I liked her pizza. But she literally has a photo wall of her herd of cats - do I look like someone who wants to stare at that all day?”

Sirius fiddles with his empty Splenda packet, tearing it to bits and sighing a little. And when he does speak it’s not really an answer. “They would want you to be happy.”

Harry blinks.

“Your parents.”

“I gathered.”

A herd of teenagers bustle into the coffee shop, bringing an icy wind and puddling rain with them. Harry really hasn’t missed London’s general greyness. Psychotic murdering crime syndicate aside, Majorca was warm and sunny .

“I’m good at it, Sirius,” Harry says after a moment, “Protecting people, catching killers, don’t I owe it to them, to everyone, to keep going?”

“Don’t let that arsehole steal your whole life - you got justice,” Sirius frowns, “However much you could, that is. You don’t owe anyone, any of us.”

Harry’s quiet a moment. “Well I guess we should go take a look at my new shop.”

The first red flag really should’ve gone up when Sirius told Harry the walkthrough could wait. When he coaxed Harry into taking a post-travel nap . Then he makes his chicken alfredo pasta bake for supper and pours him a large glass of chardonnay, which was when Harry began to feel suspicious. But, just as Sirius wanted, Harry’s too pliant with rich food and heady wine to question it and ends up falling asleep without even realizing.

Yet, when he wakes, he is in pajamas and tucked in bed, mouth a bit stale. Apparently Sirius draws the line in his babying at toothbrushing. It’s just after one in the afternoon and Harry would bet fifty quid Sirius is currently the person buzzing his mobile off the bedside table.

Harry swipes his thumb across the screen and presses the phone to his face.

“Wake up lazy bones.”

“You’re the one who plied me with wine and pasta.”

Sirius’ laugh is a huff. “You’re such a lightweight.”

Harry flops back on the bed and sighs. “Ever hear of jet lag?”

“Nobody likes a whiner.”

There’s some grumbling on Harry’s end and some grouchy barking on Sirius’ end and after what Harry will fully own as whining, he agrees to a greasy breakfast and a tour of his new acquisition right off.

Halfway through his third slice of bacon - deliciously crispy and oily - Harry glances at a mysteriously quiet Sirius. “So what is it?”

“What is what?”

“The catch, the surprise, the thing you’re going to ruin my breakfast with,” Harry answers around the rim of his coffee cup.

“Breakfast? It’s well past two. Don’t know how things are on the continent but - ”

“Breakfast is the first meal of the day,” Harry asserts, “Now answer.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Eat your breakfast .”

Knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, Harry lets the issue drop with a lingering look. Or at least on the surface. Internally, he’s still in full Inspector Mode and highly suspicious of every glance Sirius gives him and every word he says.

But odd as his godfather’s behavior is, it’s not particularly helpful in any information gathering sense. Which isn’t to say it’s not a nice meal. Clinical as Harry may paint himself at times, workaholic though he can be, he loves his godfather and getting caught up doesn’t take twisting his arm.

So yes, he drops the issue for a time, but by the time they’re walking down to Arabella’s, Harry can’t resist any longer. “Don’t you think you should give me fair warning for whatever I’m about to encounter?”

“Since when do I do things like give fair warnings?”

Sirius pushes the door open, overhead bell ringing their entry, and shepherds Harry inside.

Distracted as he is by the display of gallantry, Harry takes a moment to zero in on the figure behind the counter. And when he does, everything clicks together.

His voice is a low hiss, “What the hell, Sirius?”

“Didn’t I mention?”

“You have problems,” Harry grumbles, low enough that hopefully their conversation remains private , “I officially fire you as my godfather.”

Sirius straightens his Santa-themed scarf, jauntily tossed over his shoulder and a bit at odds with the punk vibe of his leather jacket. All of which is at odds with his profession but that’s an issue for another time. A time when Harry’s not less than four paces away from his not-so-secret celebrity crush. Ginny Weasley, star striker for the Holyhead Harpies.

A crush that is complicated all the more by the fact that she’s also his best mate’s sister whom he has not seen since they were almost something. Back when he was a dumb teenager with an axe to grind and entirely too much angst for his awkward green bean-esque body.

“You can’t fire me. It’s outside the scope of your authority.”

“I’ll - ”

Harry loses whatever he was about to say to the ether, well that and Ginny’s eyes as her attention shifts from her final customer to the new entrants. Her patented customer service smile slips into place and she’s halfway through her welcome when her eyes light in recognition. “Harry! Sirius. I wish you’d warned me.”

Ruffling his hair, Harry manages to steel himself and wander closer. “Sirius doesn’t do warnings.”

Ginny nudges the register closed and passes the customer the receipt once it’s printed. “Yeah, I guess that checks out. So we’re business partners now, yeah?”

Harry leans against the counter, taking in the half-full shop, Arabella’s catered shrine to her cats. Which reminds him. “What about the cats? We’re not - ”

Grinning, Ginny tilts her head toward the empty barstools and pours a few sodas. “That was my first question. We are not feline parents.”

Sirius nods. “Arabella had a lady in her quilting group - she’s a cat lover. Took the lot.”

“How will all this fit in - aren’t you busy?” Harry asks, turning his attention to Ginny.

She shrugs. “Somebody’s #1 fan status is in danger, I am officially retired.”

“Shite I - injury?”

“Nah, just felt like time. I’m not getting any younger - in sports years - and I’d rather go out on top than limping if I can help it,” Ginny explains, “On top and in love. The magic was still there but I could feel it fading.”

“Time for a new dream, eh?” Sirius puts in.

“Someone’s been watching too much telly with Teddy,” Harry teases and glances sidelong at Ginny, whose cheeks are a bit flushed, “My godson is quite the fan of Rapunzel.”

Ginny chuckles. “I learned that on very long afternoon of babysitting Victoire and Ted.”

The conversation peters out and they linger a bit uncomfortably until the chef passes a couple of pizzas through to Ginny. With a spared smile for her companions, she grabs the two pies and heads into the dining area to deliver the orders.

Harry can’t help but watch as she turns on the charm, poses for a selfie with a nervous looking little tween at the table, and heads back their way.

Sirius nudges Harry’s arm. “Nice surprise, eh?”

Things pick up at the shop, so Sirius orders a vegetable laden pizza to go and blusters about something important he’s just got to do and disappears as soon as his pie is ready.

Leaving Harry to feel awkward and out of place, not sure he can leave and even less sure he can stay. The latter more a thing about sanity.

He might not be a huge ‘be open about your feelings’ person but Harry’s at least somewhat self aware. And Ginny Weasley, cheeky and fit as ever, wielding the power vested in her as a co-owner of a pizza shop like a queen with a very doughy throne - well it’s not good for his state of mind.

The last forty-eight hours have been highly confusing and unexpected and Harry really feels he’s handled things with admirable elegance considering the post-assignment haze he generally experiences coupled with the usual jet-lag. Well he’s a bit out of it and that means his already low ability to filter and process emotions is severely impeded.

All of which leads Harry to feel he should be cut some slack for his awkward exit - chosen at a time where he can’t do more than offer Ginny a passing wave and earn narrowed eyes in return.

So when he finds himself off the clock two days later and somehow standing in front of Arabella’s, Harry’s really not sure it’s a good idea. Or even what the idea is.

It’s late, yesterday’s snow already either shuffled to the side by plows or trampled by Londoners tramping through the streets, and Harry’s simultaneously hungry and too terrified to be so.

Because if Ginny Weasley’s angry at eight and a half because he and Ron put snails in her sock drawer was terrifying, Harry can only imagine he’s in for a dangerous evening.

The overhead bell beckons his entry and Ginny’s voice calls from the back, “Just a sec - we’re actually - “ she pauses wiping her hands on her apron as she emerges from the kitchen, “Closed.”

“Is it ever closed for me ?” Harry asks.

Ginny scowls. “Dunno we haven’t really discussed any of this, have we?”

“I-”

“You’re not starting off as a particularly enjoyable business partner.”

“It’s been less than a week, give a bloke a break, yeah?” Harry defends, twisting the lock on the door and claiming a seat at the counter.

Ginny pins him with her stare. “If you’re going to hang about after closing, help me clean up.”

Harry accepts the rag she tosses at his chest and follows her minimal, and gradually less angry, instructions. It’s congenial, and Harry finds himself beginning to relax like he hasn’t - maybe ever. At least not without the aid of some sort of sleep-inducing medication or a couple shots of whiskey in his system.

And somehow, Ginny manages to pull him out of himself, her easy chatter draws him in and somehow he finds himself making it more of a conversation. Hell, he’s having a good time and Harry would want to thank Mrs. Figg if he wasn’t still just a little ticked at being manipulated and at the fact that an octogenarian knew his interests better than he did.

Regardless, he returns most nights, sometimes after a day off, sometimes after a long shift he just wants to forget.

Ginny’s always there delivering a cheeky rejoinder or a prod to his shoulder when he’s ‘not putting in enough elbow grease’ scrubbing the dishes. And sometimes, he begins to hope, her teasing gets just a tinge of flirtatiousness.

After a month, Harry finally asks, “So you’re here alone?”

“ That’s not something a serial murderer would say,” Ginny says with a smirk, refilling another napkin holder.

“No, I mean, for closing.”

Surprisingly, Ginny flushes a bit, her voice only wavering a bit as she begins to speak before strengthening as she squares her jaw, daring him to comment. “Well, that first night, my - our - help called in sick. And then eventually you were so regular I figured why make Francis stay and pay someone when we handled it fine enough.”

“So you’re taking advantage of my free labor.”

“Hardly free partner ,” Ginny teases, filling another holder.

Harry laughs and the shop falls into silence as they go through the motions of closing, now something of a choreographed dance between them.

It’s comfortable and yet Harry feels a weight on him, words running up his throat from somewhere he’s not even really conscious of. Repressing it begins to feel pointless - why wouldn’t he just say it? What’s the harm? Part of him wonders at his trust of Ginny after only a month, but it’s really longer than that, when he thinks about it. And if he spends one more day of his life living in constant apprehension of betrayal, of someone else leaving him or letting him down - maybe Sirius was right.

Bastard.

“Ginny?”

She rises from her crouch behind the counter, ponytail askew and a slash of flour across her cheek, hiding her freckles in a dusting of powder. “Yes?”

“Did you ever - how did you know when to retire?”

Ginny pushes flyaways from her face and disappears into the kitchen, which is really not a particularly fun reaction to receive after finally drumming up courage to ask. But she returns soon enough with a few mismatched slices of pie. “We can eat the mistakes - or the rejects I suppose - and have a chat,” Ginny smiles and gestures to one of the tables without the chairs stacked, “Grab a seat.”

Harry does as she instructs and sighs. It had been a long day, more death, more horror, more of the worst of humanity. If he’s honest, which is something Harry’s really working on, it feels like that’s all his life is. Arabella’s is an escape of sorts. And Ginny is - something else entirely.

“So my retirement? You’re not investigating me for some murder, right?” Ginny asks, pulling a slice from the tray and biting into it with a sigh, “We make good pizza.”

“No, I - I’ve just been thinking,” Harry fiddles with his napkin and finally selects a slice of pizza absently, heedless of the mushrooms he really doesn’t like. Maybe the fidgety nature of pulling them from the pie will calm his nerves. “I’ve been realizing maybe I’m not happy.”

Ginny raises her brows but doesn’t interrupt as he continues, “Before I felt like I had a purpose, a reason to be doing what I was doing. Beyond just being good at it.”

“Even after?”

“Yeah - I felt a pull even after we caught Riddle, like my work wasn’t finished,” Harry answers, thoughtful, “But lately it feels more like a placeholder, like I’m just doing it to do it.”

“You’re unhappy.”

“I mean - it feels odd to say it ever made me happy ,” Harry laughs, dry, “But I was fulfilled in a strange way, had a purpose, you know?”

Ginny shakes some red pepper flakes onto her pizza and considers him for a moment, her eyes softened, before she responds. “My career wasn’t the same as yours, but I think you know when it’s time for a change. Even if you don’t want to see it. Even when it’s scary to see. You invest your life, you devote everything to being the best. It feels mad to leave it all behind.”

“And yet you did.”

She scoots her chair closer and leans her head onto his shoulder, like they’re meant to slot together. “Isn’t it madder to leave things the same and stay unhappy?”

The shop looks different by daylight, Harry notices. Less intimate. And it’s odd too. He’s never been in a shop completely alone during the day. Or really at all, since his nights spent at Arabella’s are never without Ginny except when he takes the rubbish out.

Dull considerations like the oddity of sitting alone are all he has to keep his mind busy, to prevent himself from bouncing around with wild energy or calling and taking everything back.

But he’s not one for backpedalling, especially when he’s spent so much time and energy in moving forward.

And yet, it feels like a part of him is missing. But instead of the fear of a phantom limb, he feels weightless, like he’s thrown away everything holding him back.

Back from what, he’s not really examining too closely, so for now - well it’s -

The door opens with a ring of the bell and Ginny’s low, warbling hums reach him in the dining area. “Alright Gin?”

“Fu- ” Ginny drops her keys and grumbles, “You scared me, arsehole.”

“I tried not to.”

“Sure,” Ginny drawls, “Now what are you doing here? Please don’t tell me someone was murdered in our kitchen.”

Harry laughs and nearly chokes on his tongue when Ginny presses a kiss to his cheek. “Nah, I’m on holiday.”

“And you’re here.”

“I heard this place has the best garlic knots,” Harry says, following Ginny as she moves toward the combination supply closet and back office.

“Surprised you know how to find this place in daylight,” Ginny teases, jabbing her elbow into his side.

“Arabella’s cats are a bit creepier in the full light.”

“Don’t I know it,” Ginny says, wry, “I think Gingersnap’s eyes follow me.”

“Did you ever ask why a black cat was named Gingersnap,” Harry asks as Ginny opens the safe and pulls the register tray free.

“Maybe Arabella was so bad at making ‘em they always burnt.”

Harry laughs and in the privacy of his mind admits he follows Ginny around like a lost puppy as she preps for the day. So he’s pretty close behind when she turns and tosses a pinny in his face. “If you’re going to hang about at least pull your weight.”

“Where’s Franny?”

“Don’t bring her into this.”

“I just worry after the wellbeing of those in my employ.”

Ginny scoffs. “She’s on holiday from uni, went home to Kent.”

“Just in time to miss London’s lovely Grey Christmas,” Harry laughs, wrapping the apron strings around his middle and glancing out at the looming clouds overhead, the puddle riddled streets.

“Posh boy used to wintering in exotic locales, can’t handle a good ol’ fashioned London winter,” Ginny teases, “Keep your complaining inside and pitch in, put that fit body to good use.”

Shoving Ginny’s shoulder, Harry disappears into the kitchen and begins checking the prepped dough and running down Ginny’s list of morning tasks.

He’s just finished warming up the espresso machine when Ginny returns from her paperwork in the back room. Their gazes lock for a moment and Harry feels like he’s been caught out at something, not that he was even doing anything. Except perhaps daydreaming a bit about Ginny returning his sad secret feelings and ending their usual teasing banter with snogs instead of flicks to the nose.

But it seems Ginny is not clairvoyant, or at least not owning it quite yet when she says, “S’nice having you around. I actually get paperwork done before eleven at night.”

“Well,” Harry takes a deep breath and ruffles his hair, “Get used to it.”

“Get used to - ” Ginny narrows her eyes and steps closer, “Why?”

“I had a lot of vacation time saved up,” Harry begins, focusing acutely on the grinder, “And I wrapped that case - the human trafficking one,” Ginny nods her understanding and Harry continues, “And so I called in my days and uh. I gave notice.”

She gapes. “You - ”

He puffs out his chest, feeling accomplished at rendering Ginny nearly speechless, “Done. I’m out. That was my last one. Just a few exit interviews after the New Year and then, adios.”

Ginny considers him for a moment, unreadable as she almost seems to reach for him, and then shakes her head. “You’re such a stalker.”

“Excuse me?” Harry yelps with a grin, pressing his palm to his chest.

“Everyone knows you were a Ginny Weasley super fan,” Ginny raises one finger, “And that you had a thing for me back before uni,” Harry flushes as she plows ahead, “Add in the fact that your godfather orchestrated this little ‘surprise’ partnership,” she shakes her head, “You’ve probably been collecting my hair for a doll at your flat.”

“Excuse me, it’s a puppet.”

“How’s my godson slash entrepreneur?” Sirius barks as he pushes the front door open with his hips.

“Working like a dog, paying for any sins I may have ever committed,” Harry growls, hands elbow deep into dough.

Sirius scans him head to toe with an ever-growing smirk, “You’re welcome.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot high up into his hairline, fists already constricting around the piece of dough he’d been working on. If there’s ever anyone’s fault for what he’s been feeling over the past weeks, the tension and frustration battling in his chest, in his mind, ready to explode in his face the next time she smiles or says something cheeky or simply exists in his presence.

“Don’t start making faces,” Sirius points a finger at him as Harry’s on the verge of snapping back, “I know you when you’re happy. I changed your nappies, don’t you forget that you ungrateful godson of mine.”

And to that Harry doesn’t have much to say. Sirius is right, as much as Harry’d like to deny it.

“So you quit,” Sirius plows on after a pause.

Harry takes a moment then shrugs, “Yeah, it was time, I guess.”

“Good for you. And now - how are things?”

“What do you mean?”

Sirius quickly looks at Ginny absorbed by paperwork and winks, grin, and ultimately nudges Harry.

Harry’d like to send dough spiralling at his godfather’s head.

He’d like that very much indeed.

“There’s nothing there, Sirius,” he mutters.

“Aha,” Sirius snorts. “Then tell me this: if you’re not fueled by sexual frustration right now then why are you groping and playing with that roll of dough like it’s something else?”

Harry feels himself go scarlett, blood boiling in his ears.

“Out. Now.”

“Don’t I get a pizza for my efforts?” Sirius grins.

“Out before I kick you,” Harry barks, wipes his hands on a piece of cloth, ready to take his godfather by the collar before he mocks him even further.

No one pushes his buttons quite like family.

“What about my family discount?”

There’s a freshly baked pizza sliding down the front door as Sirius leaves in a fit of pleased laughter, Harry fuming on the other side of the shop.

“Should I ask?” Ginny raises her head from around the stack of papers, eyebrows raised, pen in her mouth.

“No,” Harry says, clipped, and marches back to his station.

Naturally, they thought hanging a Buy one, get one free sign on their door would be splendid for their business and any small business owner’s drive to build a faithful community around their shop.

It proves, however, that as great this move is for their business, it is also horrid for their poor wrists, as they hurt after rolling pizza after pizza, for their cheeks (Harry fears that fake smiling 24/7 might give him a paresis), and, if everyone’s being fair, for their mental health and general libido levels. It should be noted that tension, as well as flour, can be cut with a knife.

“Think we should hire help?” Harry asks after the upteenth time he coughs on flour.

A relieved sigh, “Thought you’d never ask. We definitely need one of those people that can naturally smile non-stop, know what I mean? Because if I have to grin like a loon for one more customer, I’m officially out.”

Harry scans her closely and pouts a little.

“Would you really?”

“Would I what?”

“You know, leave me?”

She doesn’t spare him a glance, fully concentrated on adding extra cheesy on an already cheesy pizza.

“Are we together now, Potter?”

“Let’s not hide behind those floury fingers, Weasley, I saw you checking out my arse,” Harry huffs, watching her curiously out of the corner of his eye.

Ginny laughs wholeheartedly for a beat, cheese and pizza forgotten.

“Harry, Harry, if that’s how easy it is for a girl to get you, then you must’ve had a million relationships because that bum is super tight.”

Harry feels himself blush, chest warming on the inside.

“So’s - erm, so’s yours.”

“Well, if we’re doing this,” Ginny grins cheekily, “so are your eyes.”

It’s Harry’s turn to grin, he’s very pleased.

“My eyes are tight?”

“Don’t be a prick. Your eyes are pretty,” she sticks out her tongue at him, resuming her pizza making.

A pause, tense and vibrant.

“So is your hair. And your freckles. And the way you look when you’ve got your mind set on something,” Harry mumbles at first but manages to finish in a more confident note, eyeing her from behind his round specs.

Ginny takes a moment for herself, rubs her nose then turns around to look at Harry with the very look he mentioned. That hard, blazing look that starts a fire within him and sends his thoughts twisting and turning into dangerous places.

“Your messy hair, your little smirk when you’re pleased with yourself. You.”

Harry’s completely forgotten about customers trundling in, orders upon orders to be delivered or anything else for that matter. All he has the wit to say is a feeble “oh.”

A wall of tension thickens and threatens to crush them, each staring at the other, each holding their position, feet firmly on the ground, cheeks flushed and hearts beating wildly.

“It’s hot in here,” Ginny remarks, dry.

“Yeah. I know.”

“So bloody hot,” she speaks again, still yet daring.

Harry can hear himself breathe hard, “The - uh, ovens.”

A minute passes and, as it drags its heavy legs to the finish line, Harry hears rather than sees Ginny laugh a bit to herself, throw away the piece of cloth she used to clean her hands and stride over to him.

“Yeah, I can’t handle it. Thought I could, but I can’t,” Ginny sighs and informs the room at large.

“So why are you unbuttoning my shirt?” Harry manages to underline before his brain explodes at the touch of her smooth fingers over the skin of his chest.

“Helping?”

She’s undeterred as she speaks, rather absently while her fingers work every button, one after the other until his shirt lays open and their gazes lock.

Harry barks a laugh, “Try again?”

“You’ve got a spot,” Ginny shrugs, fingers mapping the length of his chest.

Harry closes his eyes, draws in a breath. He lets it out in a shudder.

“So’ve you.”

There’s barely a second between his words and the moment Ginny’s legs lock around him, his hands supporting her on the table top, they’re mouths kissing hard and fast. Kissing, licking, grazing, biting in a tangle of hair and flour and pizza everywhere.

Harry’d like to say something clever and sassy but he’d like to keep kissing Ginny even more. And more. And more until her tongue is in his mouth and her palms moving in circles on his bare chest and his fingers knotted in her ginger hair.

He feels they’re melting into each other, limbs glued together like mold, fire blazing, scorching.

It’s more than any of them can take.

“Move this elsewhere?” Ginny gasps between kisses.

“Do we really have to?” Harry breathes, pants.

“Unless you wanna risk a citation from the Health Department,” she giggles into his ears, giggles that turn into full on laughter when he lifts her in the air, carries her into the pantry, locks the door.

Laughter that turns into moaning when their lips meet again behind closed doors.

#itsblissfuloblivion writes #hinny au fic #hinny au #hinny fic #hinny #harry X ginny #harry potter x ginny weasley #christmas au #muggle au #modern au #sirius black

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dumb-american · 5 years ago

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The Rebuild of Final Fantasy VII: Your Expectations Will (Not) Be Met

I apologize for the stupid title and I promise I’m going to talk about the Final Fantasy VII Remake, but I have to get this out of the way first. Sometime in the mid 2000s, acclaimed artist and director Hideaki Anno announced that he was going to remake his beloved anime series Neon Genesis Evangelion the way it should have been the first time, free from technical and budgetary restraints. Evangelion had a notoriously strange ending when the original anime aired, consisting of character talking over still images, abstract art, and simple animations. It was highly polarizing and controversial. Anno, for his part, received death threats and the headquarters of the studio that produced the anime was vandalized. Soon after the initial uproar Anno would direct The End of Evangelion, a retelling of the final two episodes of the anime, and that seemed to mostly satisfy the fanbase. Looking back now, The End of Evangelion wasn’t “fixing” something that was “broken,” no, it was a premonition: a vision of things to come. Why remake the ending when you can just remake the whole damn thing?

The mid 2000s also saw the birth of the Compilation of Final Fantasy VII: a sub-series of projects expanding the universe and world of the video game that had “quite possibly the greatest game ever made” proudly printed on the back of its CD case. The Compilation consisted of three games, all on different platforms, and a film. First was Advent Children, a sequel to Final Fantasy VII, where three dudes that look like discarded Sephiroth concept art all have anime fights with our beloved protagonists, culminating in a ridiculous gravity defying sword fight between Cloud and Sephiroth. Before Crisis and Crisis Core are prequels that expand the story of the Turks and Zack Fair, respectively. Then there’s Dirge of Cerberus, an action shooter staring secret party member and former Turk Vincent. Were these projects good? I’d say they were largely forgettable. Crisis Core stood out as the obvious best of the bunch and I think may be worth revisiting.

As a business model, the practice pioneered by the Compilation would continue on and eventually brings us FFXIII (and sequels), FF Versus XIII (which would later become FFXV), and FF Agito XIII (which would later become FF Type-0). If that’s all incredibly confusing to you, I’m sorry, I promise I will begin talking about the Final Fantasy VII Remake soon. Suffice it to say, both Final Fantasy VII and Neon Genesis Evangelion have a certain gravity. They punch above their weight. They are both regarded as absolute classics, flaws and all. And yet, in both cases, the people responsible for their creation decided that their first at bat wasn’t good enough and it was time to recreate them as they were meant to be all along. I think this way of thinking about art is flawed, limitations are as much a part of the creative process as vision and intent. Yet, we find ourselves in a world with a remake of Final Fantasy VII, so I guess we should talk about it.

From this point forward, there’s going to be major spoilers for every Final Fantasy VII related media. So, be warned.

So, is the Final Fantasy VII Remake any good? To me, that’s the least interesting question, but we can get into it. FFVIIR is audacious, that’s for sure. Where Anno condenses and remixes a 26 episode anime series into four feature length films, the FFVIIR team expands an around 5 hour prologue chapter into a 30+ hour entire game. Naturally, there will be some growing pains. The worst example of this is the sewers. The game forces you to slog through an awful sewer level twice, fighting the same boss each time. This expanded sewer level is based on a part of the original game that was only two screens and was never revisited.

Besides the walk from point A to point B, watch a cutscene, fight a boss, repeat that you’d expect from a JRPG, there’s also three chapters where the player can explore and do sidequests. The sidequests are mostly filler, but a select few do accomplish the goal of fleshing out some of the minor characters. You spend way more time with the Avalanche crew, for example. Out of them, only Jesse has something approaching a complete personality or character arc that matters. The main playable cast is practically unchanged which was a bit surprising to me. I figured Square-Enix would tone down Barret’s characterization as Mr. T with a gun for an arm, but they decided, maybe correctly, that Barret is an immutable part of the Final Fantasy VII experience. Also, it’s practically unforgivable that Red XIII was not playable in the remake considering how much time you spend with him. I don’t understand that decision in the slightest.

The game’s general systems and mechanics, materia, combat, weapon upgrades, etc. are all engaging and fun and not much else really needs to be said about it. I found it to be great blend of action/strategy. Materia really was the peak of JPRG creativity in the original FFVII and its recreation here is just as good. The novelty of seeing weird monsters like the Hell House and the “Swordipede” (called the Corvette in the original) make appearances as full on boss fights with mechanics is just weaponized nostalgia. In general, the remake has far more hits than misses, but those misses, like the sewers and some of the tedious sidequests, are big misses. It is a flawed game, but a good one. If I were to pick a favorite part of the game, I’d have to pick updated Train Graveyard section which takes lore from the original game and creates a mini-storyline out of it.

If that was all, however, then honestly writing about Final Fantasy VII Remake wouldn’t be worth my time or yours. The game’s ambition goes way further than just reimagining Midgar as a living, real city. There’s a joke in the JRPG community about the genre that goes something like this: at the start of the game, you kill rats in the sewer and by the end you’re killing God. Well, when all is said and done, the Final Fantasy VII Remake essentially does just that. Narratively, the entire final act of the game is a gigantic mess, but if you know anything about me then you know I’d much rather a work of fiction blast off into orbit and get a little wild than be safe and boring.

In the original games, the Lifestream is a physical substance that contains spirits and memories of every living being. Hence, when a person dies, they “return to the planet”. It flows beneath the surface of the planet like blood flows in a living person’s veins and can gather to heal “wounds” in the planet. In the original game, the antagonist, Sephiroth, seeks to deeply wound the planet with Meteor and then collect all the “spirit energy” the planet musters to heal the wound. The remake builds on this concept by introducing shadowy, hooded beings called Whispers. The Whispers are a physical manifestation of the concept of destiny and they can be found when someone seeks to change their fate, correcting course to the pre-destined outcome. Whispers appear at multiple points throughout the game’s storyline both impeding and aiding the party. The ending focuses heavily on them and the idea that fate and destiny can be changed. We receive visions throughout the game which some will recognize as major story beats and images from the original game. After dealing with Shinra and rescuing Aerith, the game immediately switches over to this battle against destiny and fate that you’re either going to love or hate. The transition is abrupt and jarring. While Cloud has shown flashes of supernatural physical abilities throughout the game, suddenly he has gone full Advent Children mode and is flying around cleaving 15 ton sections of steel in half with his sword. The party previously took on giant mutated monsters, elite soldiers, and horrific science experiments, but now the gloves are off and they’re squaring up against an impossibly huge manifestation of the Planet’s will. Keep in mind, in the narrative of the original FFVII, the Midgar section was rougly 10%, if that, of the game’s full storyline. This is, frankly, insane, but I’d be lying if I didn’t love it.

The Final Fantasy VII Remake, with its goofy JRPG concluding chapter, is forcing the player to participate in the original game’s un-making. We see premonitions of an orb of materia falling to the ground, we see an older Red XIII gallop across the plains, we see a SOLDIER with black hair and Cloud’s Buster Sword make his final stand, we see Cloud waist deep in water holding something or someone. We all know what these images represent, they’ve been part of imaginations for decades. But the Final Fantasy VII Remake allows us (or forces us, depending on perspective, I guess) to kill fate, kill God, and set aside all we thought we knew about how the game would play out post-Midgar. The most obvious effect of our actions is the reveal that Zack survived his final stand against Shinra and instead of leaving Cloud his sword and legacy, helped him get to Midgar safely. I have my doubts and my worries about the future of this series. I’m not sure when the next part of the game will be released or what form it will come in, but I can’t believe I’m as excited as I am to see it.

Of course, part of me wishes they’d just left well enough alone. Remakes are generally complete wastes of time and effort. Not all, but most. Maybe I’m, to borrow a term from pro wrestling lingo, a complete mark here and I just love JRPGs and Final Fantasy VII so much that I’ll countenance close to anything bearing its name. I’ve tried my best to be as critical and fair as possible to the game and I hope that if you’re on the fence and reading this I’ve maybe helped you decide if it’s for you or not. I think the Final Fantasy VII Remake is worth your time if you’re looking for a good, meaty JRPG. It’s not perfect and it’s final act is insane, but that just makes me love it more.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like for Zack, Cloud, and Aerith to face Sephiroth in the Planet’s core? I know 15 year old me did. And he may get his wish.

#final fantasy #ffvii #ffvii remake #review #jrpg

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white-rose-week · 5 years ago

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White Rose Week 2019: That Day on the Airship - Epilogue

Free Day

Self-Given Prompt: Callbacks to Prior Prompts

(Also available on FF and AO3)

Ruby's head popped off of her pillow.

She jumped out of the large, half-empty bed and began preparing for the day with an even wider smile than usual. As she put on her newest combat skirt, she looked at the now entirely empty bed fondly, giggling mirthfully at how tidy Weiss' side was compared to her own. After checking her pockets to ensure she had her scroll and everything else she needed for the day, she exited the room, closing the door behind herself.

Weiss was already downstairs eating breakfast and sending emails.

"I informed the board of directors weeks ago that I would be out today! I even sent them reminders yesterday. Can't they survive twenty four hours without me?!" Weiss mumbled with frustration as she sent off yet another memo to people she would be having stern conversations with tomorrow. Her hostile buyout of the Schnee Dust Company a few months after the defeat of Salem had proven quite simple after a scathing exposé came out detailing numerous labor and ethics violations that the company had committed in the past several years, along with thorough documentation of her father's knowledge and active approval of the violations. An exposé that Weiss most certainly not responsible for compiling and leaking, or at least, that's what she told media outlets that inquired about it. Regardless of who the (obviously noble, talented, and beautiful) person behind it was, it obliterated her father's reputation and sent the company into disarray. From there, leveraging the personal assets she had along with the notoriety from her involvement in the war against Salem, convincing the board of directors to accept her buyout was child's play.

Weiss smirked to herself. Even though running the company was a significant time commitment and she still had some problematic individuals to weed out, it was worth it. The only thing that she held as a higher priority in her life was—

"Good morning!" A singsong voice called out, and Ruby skipped into the kitchen, shattering any SDC-related thoughts from Weiss' mind.

"Good morning, Ruby." Weiss responded, her prior tension melting away as she closed her laptop and stood so she could give Ruby a gentle hug and kiss on the lips. "I'll prepare your coffee." She said, taking her seat again and reaching for the pitcher in the middle of the table.

"Only after I'm done refilling yours!" Ruby said defiantly as she quickly sat down and snatched the pitcher before Weiss could get to it. She gave Weiss a toothy grin as she topped off the white mug on the other side of the table. She was never content with letting Weiss dote on her unless she was able to able to return the favor.

"Very well." Weiss said playfully as she took the pitcher and proceeded to fill the empty red mug across from her, adding in cream and five sugars before nudging it with one finger toward Ruby.

"Thanks Weiss! It always tastes better when you pour it." Ruby said with a grin as she picked up her mug and held it outward. "Cheers! To our girlfriend-iversary!"

"Cheers. To us." Weiss clinked her mug against Ruby's and they both took their first sips, enjoying a quiet moment to stare at each other.

"So, you're sure Nora can run your shop for the day without accidentally setting off one of the hundreds of weapons on display?" She asked, only half joking as she broke the silence.

"Oh come on, she's not THAT much of a loose cannon anymore." Ruby waved Weiss off casually. "Plus, Ren is there with her. I'm sure they'll be fine."

"If you say so. I just don't want our day together to be interrupted by Ren calling you with the news that your shop has a giant hole in the wall."

"Relax, Weiss. We have too much planned today for you to waste time worrying about that type of thing anyways. And if you want to check the place for damage yourself, we can switch places tomorrow. You'll run the shop for the day, and I'll run the SDC and all your fancy-schmancy meetings!"

"As amusing as it is to imagine the department managers trying to keep up with your energy, I think we both remember the last time you tried to act like me, and I think they're a bit too stuffy to appreciate your brand of leadership."

"I think that means you need new department managers!"

"To be honest, I've been thinking the same thing. I'll probably be looking for at least a few new ones starting tomorrow. Would you be interested in running a leadership workshop for all the department managers once I've finished the hiring a few new ones?"

"I'd be happy to, but my fee is ten kisses per hour and must be paid out directly by the CEO."

"Your terms are steep, but acceptable. My people will call your people. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a very important appointment downtown." Weiss gave Ruby a playful wink as she stood and walked toward the kitchen. She placed her empty mug in the sink and gave her combat skirt's pocket a quick pat with her free hand, checking that she had her wallet and other essentials.

"I must be going as well." Ruby called out. "I've got a date with a pretty girl!" She chugged the last of her sweet drink before running over to Weiss. "Hi there, pretty girl!" She said cutely.

The couple giggled at each other as they exited their penthouse apartment and walked into a well-decorated hallway. A short elevator ride later, they were on the sidewalk of Vale's main street. The city had been rebuilt following the defeat of Salem at the hands of Team RWBY and their allies. While the general public was aware that Team RWBY had a hand in helping finally rid Remnant of Salem, they were far from the only huntresses who fought in the war, and they had kept the extent of their personal hardships to themselves. As a result, they held the comfortable status of hometown heroes and respected huntresses, but not the weight of superstar celebrities, meaning they were able to make their way down the sidewalk with their arms linked, enjoying the crisp morning air without being hassled.

As they walked, Weiss glanced over at Ruby, taking in her profile. Even from the side, her silver eyes sparkled with life and light. She got an even better view of them as Ruby turned to her. She could almost feel the power of the silver orbs staring into her blue ones. Or perhaps that was just the sensation of butterflies in her chest. She didn't really mind either way.

"I still can't believe you got us VIP invites to the grand opening of the new bakery in town!" Ruby said as she gave Weiss' arm an excited shake. "It's right next to my shop, so I've been watching the construction for the past few months. I some state-of-the-art ovens getting carried in, and they got a shipment of comfy-looking furniture just last week. I can't wait to see what it looks like now that it's finished!"

"I'm excited for you to see it as well. I have a feeling you'll really like it." Weiss said as they turned a corner.

"I'm sure I will, I've never been to a bakery that I didn't—" Ruby stopped walking and gasped loudly.

They had arrived.

A hundred feet away, their destination was nestled between their favorite combat skirt boutique, Dressed to Kill, and Ruby's weapon shop, which she'd affectionately named It's Also a Gun. The bakery's large glass windows had been covered with sheets of brown paper throughout the construction process, preventing Ruby from peeking inside, despite her best efforts. The paper was now gone, but she wasn't able to see most of the interior decoration due to the number of people that were already in the building.

Above the entrance was a sign that hadn't been there the day before. On each side was a large, ornate flower. Filigree trimming extended from the base of each bloom, resembling intertwined roots, forming the bottom of the sign's frame. The establishment's name was proudly displayed between the flowers in swooping cursive font.

White Rose Bakery & Cafe

"Wh-what? Is this…? Did you…? But, how…?" Ruby whispered breathlessly, her eyes still fixated on the sign.

"With great deal of time and planning, but I can already tell it was worth it." Weiss responded quietly.

"Didn't I make you promise to not buy me a bakery?" Ruby put her hands on her hips with a sassy, but not quite upset tone as she turned to her girlfriend.

Weiss grinned triumphantly. "You made me promise that I wouldn't buy you a bakery as a thank you gift. I made no promises about not buying a bakery because I know it would make the girl I love happy and because I think it would be a good investment anyway."

"I should have known you'd use a technicality like that." Ruby wrapped her arms around Weiss. "I love you."

"I love you too." Weiss said quietly she leaned in and gave Ruby a quick kiss.

"But you don't know the first thing about starting or running a bakery! And I know you couldn't have overseen this while running the SDC. Who helped you?"

Weiss tilted her head and grinned. "In a way, you did."

"I think I'd remember helping you with something like this!" Ruby said, gesturing grandly at the building.

"Well, you helped me pick the people who helped me. Although you didn't really know you were helping pick them." Weiss twirled some of her long hair around her index finger as she smiled blissfully at Ruby, taking in her girlfriend's reaction. "Do you remember that taste testing I took you to at the SDC headquarters about a year ago?"

"How could I forget?!" Ruby said enthusiastically. "We spent an entire Saturday tasting cookies, cakes... pastries and… coffee…" Her eyes widened a bit as she began to piece things together. "But you said I was helping decide who would get a catering contract with the SDC!"

"That much was true, and they've already catered several events for the company. I just left out the fact that the chefs that day were also competing for something else." Weiss' smile became mischievous. "The opportunity to design and run a new bakery in downtown Vale."

"Does that mean the chefs who baked the chocolate chip cookie that made me cry because it tasted so good…?"

"Are inside, probably putting a fresh batch in the display case."

"You're incredible." Ruby held Weiss tightly. "Just how long have you been planning this?" She asked with cheerful curiosity.

"Ever since that day on the airship. I knew we'd have to finish the whole 'save the world' thing before I could put my plan into motion, but that just meant I had a lot of time to think through the details." Weiss responded lovingly and slid her hands around Ruby's waist. "Shall we go inside?"

"We shall, but not yet!" Ruby said as she pulled out her scroll. "This is totally a 'home screen' moment!"

The two of them had continuously updated their home screens whenever they did something particularly fun or special together, with the most recent picture being from their visit to Blake and Yang's house in Menagerie. They snapped a quick photo and changed the settings on their scrolls before linking arms again and walking past the red and white balloons next to the front door.

When they entered, they were greeted by the scent of confectioner's sugar and the gentle sound of upbeat music. To their left, a small line led to a pair of cash registers that were attached to fully stocked display cases and a bar that extended the length of the wall. Lively girls wearing pink aprons were taking orders, grabbing pastries, and making coffee. Lacquered wood tables and cushioned chairs took up roughly two-thirds of the dining area. Couches and large coffee tables filled the remaining space, creating a communal lounge area.

As Ruby and Weiss approached the display cases, a woman approximately the same age as them walked out of a door behind the bar. The tall brunette had pale skin, purple eyes, and was wearing a chef's hat. When Weiss waved at her, the woman's expression lit up and she quickly poked her head back into the kitchen. A moment later, another woman with fair skin, light brown eyes, and wavy blonde hair appeared. The two held hands as they walked out from behind the counter.

"Weiss! Ruby! It's so good to see you!" The purple-eyed woman said warmly.

"Hi!" Ruby said, looking both excited and slightly embarrassed. "I'm really, really sorry, but I can't remember your names." She admitted.

The other chef smiled and waved her hand nonchalantly. "Don't worry, I don't think we even properly introduced ourselves at the tasting last year. I'm Madeleine, and this is my wife, Claire!"

"It's nice to meet you both again. This place is amazing." Ruby said, still in awe of her surroundings.

"The pleasure is all ours." Claire said, giving Madeleine's hand a squeeze. "We're so happy that we can finally share our cooking with the rest of Vale."

"Not to mention finally sharing the name of the place! Miss Snow-Angel-Investor over here really didn't want you finding out about her little scheme." Madeleine smirked and nodded in Weiss' direction. "We had to sign some intense nondisclosure agreements!"

Ruby rolled her eyes and nudged her girlfriend. "Sorry about that. Business Weiss can be kind of scary sometimes."

"Only when it's important business." Weiss blushed as she leaned slightly into Ruby before turning to the couple "And you both did a wonderful job with the preparations. I'm sure this place will be a complete success." She looked at them with sincere confidence.

"That means a lot to us." Claire said, her gaze drifting toward the brown eyes beside her. "We hope to be running it for a very long time."

"And we should probably get back to running it, but let me show you to your table first." Madeleine gestured for Ruby and Weiss to follow her as Claire returned to the front counter.

They made their way to the back wall, where a single unoccupied table was waiting with a small sign that said 'Reserved' in the same cursive font as the bakery's logo.

"Here you are." Madeleine said, plucking the sign from the table just as Claire reappeared with two large cookies held in parchment paper.

"And these are for you. If you want anything else, just let us know!" She handed the warm treats over before glancing lovingly at Madeleine. "Come on, sweetie."

"Right behind you, sugar." The other chef responded. The pair waved goodbye to Ruby and Weiss as they departed.

Ruby waved back at them until they weren't looking at her anymore. "This is all so perfect." Ruby mused as they took their seats. "The food, the atmosphere, the location, and the chefs are a couple too. What are the odds?"

"One hundred percent." Weiss responded with a simple shrug.

"Hmm?" Ruby raised an inquisitive eyebrow as she took a large bite of her cookie.

Weiss smiled adoringly as she used her thumb to wipe a stray crumb from the corner of Ruby's mouth. "You must have been too blinded by all the food at the tasting to notice that the chefs who served us were always in pairs. And were all women." She smiled lightheartedly. "I wanted this bakery to represent us in every way possible, so I did my research when selecting candidates for the tasting. All of the chefs that day were couples, so the odds of you selecting a couple to run the bakery was one hundred percent."

Ruby gulped down the mouthful of cookie. "You really did think of everything, didn't you?" She whispered happily.

"I certainly tried to. No amount of effort is too much if it's for you, Ruby." Weiss said lovingly. Under the table, she quietly slid her right hand into the pocket of her combat skirt.

Ruby blushed and took another large bite of her cookie. As she chewed, she became aware of the music playing in the bakery again.

~~~I won't need any dreams, it's all there if you're by my side~~~

A small shiver of tension went through her body. At some point, the bakery's cheerful playlist had arrived at a familiar tune and gotten all the way to its bridge without her realizing it. She and Weiss had managed to listen to the song a number of times over the past several years. In the weeks leading up to their final battle with Salem, they had made it a personal goal to listen to the piece in its entirety. A goal they accomplished.

However, that didn't mean their goal had been to make it through without crying. They knew they song would be an emotional one for them, but they sought to change it from a specter that haunted them into a memorial of sorts. But, every time they had listened to it, they did so intentionally. They had never encountered it by accident before, much less in public.

~~~Every moment's enough, and you take me to paradise~~~

Weiss noticed Ruby's expression and the song almost simultaneously. "Oh my gosh." She whispered frantically, her face going even paler than usual as she jumped out of her seat. "I swear I didn't tell them to play this. Stay here, I'll have them change it immediately." He combat skirt flared as she turned toward the bar.

~~~When I needed a hero, you knew it, and you were there~~~

"Wait."

Ruby's voice was steady as she grabbed Weiss' wrist, intercepting her before she could take her first step. "It's fine. I'm fine. I'd… like to listen to it with you."

~~~And I'm scared, but I'll open my heart up, I'm ready to dare~~~

Weiss look at Ruby with astonishment. "Are you sure?"

"I am."

~~~I know I've never felt like this before~~~

"Alright." Weiss pulled her arm gently, sliding her wrist through Ruby's fingers until their hands met. "I'm here for you."

~~~I never really knew what love was for~~~

"I know you are." Ruby whispered as Weiss took her seat again.

~~~I dreamed, but never did believe~~~

They then did something they had never done before.

"But baby, it's time to make up your mind."

Their singing was barely above a whisper, only loud enough the two of them to hear amongst the bustling chatter of the other customers.

"I think that tonight is when our stars align."

They saw tears in each other's eyes, but the tears were happy. Triumphant.

"Honey, it's now we leave the doubt behind."

They moved their free hands together, interlocking both pairs over the small table.

"Take my hand, cause you and I are gonna light the sky up till it's dawn, and baby, you and I are gonna shine."

Ruby and Weiss continued holding hands as the song faded, finally separating them so they could dry their eyes and finish their cookies.

"Thanks, Weiss." Ruby said before sighing cathartically. "This place is amazing, but I could really use some fresh air right now. Can we go for a walk?"

"Fresh air sounds wonderful." Weiss nodded in agreement as she stood and offered Ruby her hand once more.

The two waved to Claire and Madeleine as the left the bakery and took another moment to look at the sign outside of it before starting to walk around the city.

Their conversation didn't have any particular direction, nor did their feet. They simply enjoyed the sunny morning and each other's company.

"My feet are beginning to hurt." Weiss commented after they had been walking for nearly an hour. "Let's find a place to sit for a while."

"Yeah, my feet are starting to get tired as well." Ruby glanced around, approximating their location. "Oh! I know where we can go!" She scooped Weiss off her feet with a broad grin. "Ready?"

Weiss clutched Ruby's sleeves as she braced herself for what she knew was about to happen. "Ready."

A moment later, the world was a blur around her. A few moments after that, the world came back into focus, and she knew exactly where they were. She didn't even need to look down to know that she was being lowered onto a seat.

They were in a large, circular courtyard, sitting in one of the sturdy wooden benches that lined the perimeter of the otherwise open space. Gray slate covered the ground beneath them, as well as the walkways extending from opposite sides of the circle. One path went back to the city, and the other extended toward a collection of castle-like buildings, several of which were obviously newer than others. An insignia with two crossed axes emblazoned the center of the area.

"It's been a while since we've come here." Weiss said nostalgically.

They were in the front courtyard of Beacon Academy.

The courtyard was lively, but not overcrowded with students and visitors. A few people had briefly glanced in their direction due to the sudden burst of petals that heralded their arrival, but they were content to continue about their business.

"Yeah, it has. We were standing just over there when I fell into your luggage and then exploded." Ruby giggled quietly. "After that, I thought you'd never be my friend, much less my girlfriend." Ruby's words had a gentle, sincere happiness to them.

"If I'd had my way, you'd have taken that pamphlet on dust safety from me at the entrance ceremony later that day and never spoken to me again. Thank goodness things didn't go as I'd planned." Weiss scooted closer to Ruby and pressed the sides of their arms together.

"Most things haven't gone as planned for us over the years, have they?"

"I suppose they haven't. But somehow we wound up here, together."

"We have. And being with you is all that I need."

"I couldn't agree more."

They leaned into each other, sharing a quiet moment, which was interrupted by Ruby sighing wistfully.

"Weiss, I love you." Ruby sounded unusually serious. There was no hint of uncertainty in her declaration, which had been made many times before, but there was an unusual amount of weight behind her words.

"I love you too, Ruby." Weiss responded with a comforting tone, as she gently touched Ruby's arm. "So very much. In fact, I've been wanting to have a conversation with you about just how much I love you."

"You… you have?" Ruby looked at Weiss carefully. "What type of conversation?"

A slight blush reached Weiss' face. "Well, um… you see, it's about our… what did you call it… mutually consented trial period of courtship?"

Ruby looked stunned for a moment. "Wait! That's what I want to discuss too! You don't mean…" She paused with her mouth half open as she pointed a trembling finger at Weiss.

Weiss leaned back slightly. "H-huh? Wait, Ruby, you couldn't possibly…" The gears in her head spun, landing on the only logical explanation. "Hold on!" She scrambled around, her hand rummaging into her combat skirt's pocket.

Ruby began floundering about, realizing what was happening. "No! Wait! I… I want to say it!" Her hand flew into her own pocket and grasped around for the item she'd double checked was with her before leaving their apartment earlier that morning.

They became still as they found what they were looking for, hands still hidden from sight. They stared at each other, looking equally frantic and exhilarated.

"But Ruby, I want to be the one to—"

"No way, I've waited way too long to not ask you myself!"

"I've wanted to ask you for ages though! I—Fine! We'll ask at the same time!"

"Deal!"

They mirrored each other's movements, swiftly pulling small boxes out of their pockets, opening them with outstretched arms, and speaking simultaneously.

"Weiss, will you—"

"Ruby, will you—"

"YES OF COURSE I'LL MARRY YOU!"

As they embraced and kissed passionately, the open boxes fell from to the ground below, the rings inside them glittering brilliantly in the midday sun.

A/N: In the author's notes of my previous chapter, I said, "I don't anticipate having nearly as much trouble writing the final 'free day' chapter." So much for that!

First, I got delayed by several weeks due to hectic (but positive) circumstances. When I finally sat down to write the chapter, I almost immediately realized I didn't like the flow of events as I had initially envisioned them and spent a day writing and scrapping paragraphs. After taking a few days to step away, I hit a stride and wrote out most of the chapter, but then hit a brick wall in the final scene.

While my endgame was always a simultaneous proposal, I couldn't find the right words for the two of them to say in the moments leading up to the proposal itself. The scene alone took over a month of on and off thought. If it had been any scene other than the literal finale of the story, I'd have forced myself to publish something after a day or two, but I refused to let myself release the chapter until I was at least mostly satisfied with the ending. Even now, I don't know if I consider it perfect, but it feels as good as anything that I as a first-time fanfic writer could make without running the risk of the story never actually getting finished.

Aside from the final scene, I feel very good about how the rest of the chapter turned out. I really enjoyed bringing several things from previous chapters back, such as the bakery, combat skirts with pockets, coffee, and "Shine".

While I actively avoided creating any original characters in the earlier chapters, my setup for the bakery required chefs, and while I considered not having them actually appear, the idea of them being a couple to parallel Ruby and Weiss occurred to me and felt too fun to not use, so I spent several hours deciding what Claire and Madeleine's names and appearances would be. Claire's is based on a éclair, and Madeleine's inspiration is the French cookie of the same name. I felt that both pastries had a distinct enough appearance and color to satisfy the "color naming" rule of the RWBY universe. It might be a bit of a stretch, but I also wanted to keep the odds of the names I used appearing in the actual series to a minimum.

While this final chapter took significantly longer than I had ever hoped it would, I still really enjoyed the process of White Rose Week (months, for me, I suppose) and plan to do it again next year, but with either greater planning or without the goal of writing extended chapters and a continuous story. My direction will largely hinge upon the state of my personal schedule as the week approaches next year.

I cannot thank you enough for joining me in the adventure of my first fanfic. Every view count, favorite/kudo, follow/favorite, comment/review means a great deal to me. If you had any favorite parts, I'd love to know what they were. I hope my writing was able to bring you some joy, and I hope to see you all again next year.

Keep moving forward!

#white rose week #white rose #whiterose #rwby #fiction #weiss schnee #ruby rose #submission #day 8

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