#also have half list my voice for like three weeks and had a randomly blocked ear for a few days lol

[cuppatealove]

Survived three days of a cricked neck only to be deposited directly into two days of splitting headaches. Suffice to say my body is in holiday mode 😅

[kaitycole]

you broke me first (part 2)

Summary: You and Oikawa dated all three years of high school, that is until he broke up with you out of nowhere. Then three years later, you open the door of Iwaizumi’s apartment to find Oikawa there.

Word Count: 2825

Rating: Angst. Pinning. Mentions of anxiety. Talks of a break-up

Pairing: OIkawa x Female Reader (past tense), Iwaizumi x Female Reader

A/N: Fingers crossed I’m capturing these guys right lol I think maybe it’ll have one more part, I'm not sure. Let me know your thoughts though! 

Also, I’m thinking of having two different ending, let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Song Choice: you broke me first by Tate McRae

Tag List: @yatoatyourservice​  

When Iwa finally gets back to his apartment, Oikawa is sprawled out on the floor on his phone. Shaking his head, he simply walks passed him, grabbing two beers from the fridge. He just knows he’s gonna need some.

“Oi. Here.”

Oikawa takes the beer, clinking it against Iwa’s before taking a sip. While the two of you were gone, Oikawa practically dissected all the posts on both your social media profiles. He came up empty, either you weren’t dating or weren’t making it public. It’s driving him crazy to not know, while he wasn’t expecting you to be here, he’d be lying if he said seeing you didn’t stir something up inside him. Didn’t make him rethink the last three years, comparing them to the three you spend together.

“How long as you in town?”

“A week.” He makes eye contact with Iwa, “But I’ll find somewhere else tomorrow.” Iwa shakes his head in protest, “Just stay in the spare room.” “Is Y/N okay with that?” Oikawa raises an eyebrow, trying to see how he react; but he’s stoic as usual.

He nods, “As long as you don’t act like shittykawa, I’m sure things will be fine.”

A few beers later and Iwa’s phone goes off, he excuses himself to take it. Oikawa leans back on the couch, trying to not think about you but failing.

------

It was just like every other day, an early chilly morning before school. You and Oikawa were sitting on a bench close to the school, he had just finished up a brief practice. He enjoyed this time with you, before the campus filled with tons of students especially his “fan club”.

“Oh, I brought you something!”

“Oh really? What is it, princess?” You pulled out a small bag and handed it to him: milk bread.

“Y/N, you’re the best. I love you.”

Your face turned bright pink.

“Oh, I…uhm…well, no, I love you.” He shrugs, “Wasn’t how I was planning on telling you.”

It made your heart skip, he had been planning on telling you that he loves you. And instead of some grand gesture or in some super overthought way, your dork of a boyfriend told you after getting milk break.

“You are such a dork.” You pulled him close and kissed him, “I love you too.”

There had been great days in Oikawa’s life; most of them included volleyball, but this day topped all of them. He draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side and kissing the top of your head.

“Say it again?”

Your face turned even redder, it extended to the tops of your ears, “I love you, Toru.”

Oikawa could’ve died right there and he’d have been a happy man. You and volleyball are all he needed in life and luckily, he wouldn’t have to choose one over the other, right?

Two years and three months later, he had to choose one and it wasn’t you.

------

Iwa comes back into the living room, “That was Y/N. She’s back at her dorm.”

“When did she start calling you Hajime?” His voice is full of regret and Iwa instantly picks up on it; his heart sinking.

“I’m not really sure, sometime during our first year here I think.”

“You two are together, aren’t you?” Oikawa asks, not really wanting to hear the answer. His eyes are closed and he feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Yeah. We are.” Iwa rubs the back of his neck, he never intended to keep this from his best friend.

“How long?”

“Three months.” There were several days within those months that Iwa had dialed Oikawa’s number just to hang up or not bring it up. He wanted to tell him, there was nothing keeping him from it other than himself; there was just some mental block.

“Guess you picked up all the piece, eh?” Oikawa stands up, chugging the beer on the table before grabbing his bag. He tries to think of where he can go because he can’t stay here. He doesn’t want to hear about how Iwa was there to catch you when he had left.

“It wasn’t like that. We…she didn’t even talk to me that summer or the first few months of school.” Iwa hates thinking about how you were back then, remembering just how broken you were when Oikawa left.

“Then enlighten me.”

“You broke her, shattered her, destroyed her.” He runs his fingers through his hair, “You were it for her and when you just left she fell apart. I honestly thought she didn’t come to university until we had a class together the second part of our first year.”

When Oikawa first left, Iwa assumed you’d need a few days to adjust, but it was after a few weeks that he tried reaching out. You ignored him. He eventually swung by your job at a local convenient store, only to find out that you had quit. When he went to see you at home, your mom had been the one to tell him of the break-up and that you had gone to stay with your aunt in Tokyo for the summer.

Iwa sits down, elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. Oikawa drops his bag, he didn’t realize how hard the break-up had hit you. With him going abroad, he thought it’d be easier for you. Though it hadn’t been easier for him either.

“I felt horrible, she’d become my best friend through high school and there she was and I didn’t know the slightest thing about her anymore. So, I sat next to her, made study plans with her, invited her to meals; anything that I knew she’d agree to and not see as unnecessary like parties.” He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

Iwa tells Oikawa about how you’d practically jump each time your phone went off, praying that it was Oikawa. How you flinched every time someone brought up volleyball or when people would eagerly ask you if you knew Oikawa when they learned where you went to high school. Or that you missed two days of classes when she learned he had injured his bad knee again and that it was almost a year later when you actually gave Iwa a sincere smile and laugh.

Iwa doesn’t look up Oikawa as he recounts the last few years; part of him want his best friend to feel guilty and miserable, but the other part of him feels guilty for wanting that. He recalls the time when you called him first to make plans that didn’t include the library, studying or a lecture.

He laughs, “You know she came in here about a year and a half ago now, randomly telling me she hated all my furniture and over the next four months, she had completely redecorated the apartment.” Oikawa smirks, that sounded just like you.

Oikawa continues listening to Iwa. Learning that it may have taken you a bit longer than expected, but you learned to be happy again. That a day came where you could hear his name again without cringing and how one random night you brought up a memory of the three of you out of the blue. Oikawa isn’t sure if the ache in his chest is still from hearing about how you were or from the proud smile Iwa sports talking about you.

He stands up, once again picking up his bag before nodding his head towards the hallway. “I’m beat.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Iwa stands up, motioning his friend towards the guest room.

In three separate beds lay three individuals, minds all filled with a mix of worries, regrets, and memories. In the room at the end of the hall is Iwa, trying to convince himself that laying in the middle of the bed will prevent him from missing you. It’s been months since he’s slept alone; even before an official relationship, you slept in his apartment. It started by innocently crashing on the couch after a long day to Iwa saying you could keep a few things in the spare room until the start of your third year of university, about six months ago, when you found yourself in Iwa’s bed, cuddled to his side.

It’s not until his head hits the pillow that he finally realizes why he couldn’t tell Oikawa about the two of you; he never wanted Oikawa to think he liked you during high school. He didn’t want his best friend to try to tear apart every memory, wondering if Iwa had ever tried to sabotage the two of you. He didn’t want him feeling that all his advice through your relationship was in hopes to break you two up. Because that wasn’t the case, although he couldn’t pin point when he had fallen for you, he knew without a doubt that he didn’t look or think about you in that way during your time with Oikawa. All Iwa wanted in the world was for you and Oikawa to be happy.

Just down the hall, Oikawa finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed thinking about what Iwa has just told him. He didn’t want to imagine you the broke mess he learned you had been, it’s what got him through the last three years. It was the immature reason why when he got on the plane, he didn’t glance back. He falls back on the bed, his face in his hands as he lets out a groan. This isn’t what he expected when he came to visit, he thought he and Iwa would hang out, talk about old times, and just have a good time; seeing his ex-girlfriend aka the only girl he’s ever loved was not part of his plans.

He doesn’t like that Iwa was the one who helped you get through the break-up. He doesn’t like that you were completely destroyed. He doesn’t like that three years ago he took the coward’s way out and broke up with you. Seeing you just brought up all the feelings he’d been burying for these last few years, reminding him of all the reasons why the two of you fit together so well and why he fell in love with you. And he definitely doesn’t like feeling like he’s too late because all he wants is to beg for you back. He groans again, wanting for just a moment that he could turn off his thoughts.

Across the city you’re in your college dorm room, laying on the uncomfortable twin mattress that creaks every time you roll over to adjust. Even when you move as slowly as possible, it squeaks and you feel awful for your roommate; even though she’s assured you that she can’t hear a thing. Tonight isn’t going how you originally planned, you woke up this morning thinking that you’d spend the night at Iwa’s, wake up early to him cooking breakfast and then rush to campus to work on your project. But with the slight turn of events, you probably won’t eat until lunch and be early to your group project.

There’s a pit in your stomach, thinking back to the moment you opened the door to see your ex-boyfriend standing there; looking way too good for someone that you wanted to hate. You smack your hands to your face letting out a low groan as your mind wanders. You have worked so hard to get over Oikawa; to be able to breathe and live again after he just left you. His sun-tanned skin, soft brown eyes, all have your stomach in knots and you don’t realize just how long you’ve been holding your breath until your phone vibrates.

Oikawa: You awake? (2:34 am)

Oikawa: It’s Oikawa Toru (2:34 am)

Oikawa: I’m so sorry if you’re sleeping (2:35 am)

Your stomach twists more, surely this was a coincidence and not the universe sending you a sign, right?

Y/N: Did you just send your ex a ‘you up’ text? (2:39 am)

Y/N: Classily Toru (2:39 am)

He sharply inhales, the use of his first name leaves him shocked. All night you had avoided his name altogether, going to the lengths of talking to the wooden table, but here you were using his first name. He has two favorite sounds: a volleyball smacking his hand and the way you say his name, especially his first name. You stare at the text, mentally kicking yourself for the slip up, but it felt comfortable.

Oikawa: I didn’t mean it like that (2:41 am)

Oikawa: Just wanted to talk (2:41 am)

Your hands shake as your thumbs hover over where the J and D are located. Could you? Could you just talk to Oikawa? Act as if he didn’t carelessly toss everything in the closest airport trashcan as he walked towards his gate three years ago? Could you talk to him like you did back when you first met and had become friends? Before you have time to type anything, it buzzes again in your hand and your chest constricts.

Oikawa: I know this is three years late (2:45 am)

Oikawa: And this won’t mean much at all (2:45 am)

Oikawa: Wait, I’m going to call. Hold on (2:46 am)

His hands start to sweat, feeling clammy as he tries to calm his nerves. You start to slightly panic before practically jumping out of bed and rushing into the bathroom. The light blinds you momentarily and the door clicks shut just as his name pops up on your screen, your phone buzzing repeatedly.

Taking one last breath you swipe the screen, putting your phone to your ear, “Hello?

He picks up on the shakiness of your voice, hoping his will sound more still, “Hey.”

Your stomach is all but completely knotted up as his voice fills your mind. It’s soft, like it usually was right before school in the early mornings or when he answered the phone right after he woke up. But you pick up on how it shakes just like yours, wondering what has him so nervous.

“Y/N, I am so sorry.”

“It’s…” he cuts you off.

“Wait, please let me get this all out.”

You nod, instantly realizing he can’t see you.

“An apology won’t ever be enough for what I did. What I put you through. But I am so sorry.”

Tears gently fall down your face, you wanted those words for years. Dreamed about hearing him call and apologize, saying that he made a mistake. Here you were, squatting on the floor in your dorm bathroom at nearly 3 am getting exactly what you wanted all those years ago, but is it what you need now?

“I know and I forgive Toru.” You feel winded, wondering if you really did forgive him. You know that you did, you had years ago because it was once you did that you started to feel better.

There’s a wide smile on his face, “Thank you, Y/N. Could we maybe get together? To just catch up, that is.”

“I have a project tomorrow, but I’m free Sunday.” You bite your lip nervously, but feel your stomach untwist only to fill with butterflies? Are you allowed to get butterflies with an ex? Maybe they were more like moths.

“Sunday. It’s a date then.” He catches his words just as they leave him, he leans against the wall feeling like an idiot. You were dating his best friend, he needed to word things more carefully, he didn’t want to come between you and Iwa.

“Yeah. A date.” You don’t think twice about the term, it was just an expression.

What you also didn’t think twice about is that the room Oikawa is in shares a wall with Iwa’s. The exact wall that Oikawa is leaning up against and the same Iwa who heard just enough of the conversation to feel heartbroken.

This was part of the reason when he tried telling you where Oikawa had been planning to stay, he didn’t correct your when you said girlfriend even though he knew that wasn’t correct. He was going to stay with his sister, but his nephew was sick and he didn’t want to risk it. The same way Iwa didn’t want to risk giving Oikawa an in with you. He trusts you, more than anything, but that doesn’t stop his insecurities from creeping in convincing him that he’s not worthy of anything; especially not someone like you.

When he asked you if you were still okay with dating him, it was more for him than you. He needed to know that he hadn’t been some last stitch way for you to hold onto Oikawa. That you had picked him for him, you had picked Iwaizumi Hajime and not Iwa-chan Oikawa’s best friend. And now at 3:10 am, those same insecurities wrap around him as he can’t help but wonder if your relationship is on stolen time.

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[cloudywriter]

camp staghorn - snippet

Okay I randomly started a short Rowaelin story and now I’m very excited about it and want to share. So enjoy a very long snippet from the first chapter! At this point I believe it’ll have around 7 chapters. Get ready for some very light-hearted content ahead, don’t worry no crazy angst in this one. 

my masterlist

~~~

Aelin sighed as she finally got off the bright yellow bus, her three bags weighing heavily on her arms and shoulder. The sun was already high in the sky and beating down despite Terrasen’s usually mild temperatures. Lysandra hopped down on the gravel path the bus had stopped in front of with a huff, Dorian and Elide followed. 

They were all about to spend the next week as camp counselors for a huge group of kids all in 1st-6th grade. She was just glad they had 6th graders. While Aelin loved kids but she wasn’t particularly looking forward to what she knew would be a long and tiring week. But, being a camp counselor would look great for her college applications. It was the summer right before their senior year, school had ended only a week prior. 

A number of other people who looked around her age shuffled about the area already convening into their respective friend groups. A few sat around old wooden picnic tables that were set up outside of the camp’s entrance. A huge sign was erected overhead with the words Camp Staghorn painted in white block letters. 

Chaol finally exited the bus and came to stand by Aelin.

“Really, Aelin? Three bags?” Chaol commented, shifting his singular black, duffel bag on his shoulder. 

Aelin shrugged, “I didn’t know what all I would need.”

Chaol only half-heartedly shook his head. Although Aelin and Chaol had broken up in the middle of junior year their relationship was still relatively amicable. 

Lys quickly shoved between Aelin and Chaol. “Aelin, look!” She whispered loudly into Aelin’s ear, pointing towards a group of boys occupying the grass near the entrance. 

At that, Aelin perked up, especially when she laid eyes on the group. Seriously, four of some of the best-looking high school boys she had ever seen were huddled there. 

A boy with tan, golden skin and blonde curly hair piled on his head seemed to be the focal point of the group, Aelin could hear his voice all the way where she was but couldn’t discern what he was saying. The boy immediately next to him looked to be his brother but with a brown mop of hair instead. Two other boys were there too, one with long, straight brown hair and a grumpy demeanor radiating off of him. The other boy was who Aelin really noticed though, his hair was a unique blonde, it appeared almost silver and was cut shorter, his skin had a healthy glow. He was in the circle with the other boys but she could tell his mind wasn’t. He was looking out at the expansive, blue lake that could be seen just through the trees with a thoughtful, pensive stare on his features. 

Dorian stepped up behind Aelin, following Lys’s finger to the gathering of boys. 

“Oh, they go to Mistward High. Chaol and I have had a few lacrosse games against them,” Dorian offered nonchalantly. 

“They’re gorgeous,” Lys giggled. 

Aelin shoved Lysandra’s shoulder playfully, “You’re dating my cousin!”

“I know, I know, but maybe you could have a summer camp fling. Oh, my gods! Like Camp Rock, you hear him singing your song, or whatever happened, and boom it’s love at first sight.” Aelin laughed and rolled her eyes. 

At her laugh, the silver-haired boy turned his eyes in her direction and they made brief eye contact, Aelin gave him a small smile and the boy looked away immediately. Well, that was rude. 

A man suddenly stepped up onto one of the empty picnic tables, a clipboard in hand. His hat was embroidered with Camp Staghorn and he wore a matching t-shirt in a deep green hue. 

“Alright, everyone listen up please!” He clapped his hands a few times to grab everyone’s attention. 

“My name is Gavriel, I’m the director of Camp Staghorn so if you have any questions, comments, or concerns I’m the guy to come to. Now, you all have signed off on behaving and being camp counselors who will set a good example but let’s just go over a few ground rules. First, no funny business between boys and girls camps especially at night, stay in your cabins after lights out. Second, remember to clean up after yourselves and your campers. Third, stay on top of your respective schedules. And really, just use common sense please, you’re all seniors you know the difference between right and wrong I don’t want to have to stand up here and list out a bunch of rules for a bunch of hypothetical scenarios, understood?”

A few head nods and murmurs of yes rippled through the crowd. 

“Great, then I’ll skip over that, you all know what’s expected of you. I’m going to call up names and give you a packet and a t-shirt. In that packet will be a list of your campers, your camp number, your cabin number, a map, and your camp’s schedule for the next week. The schedules are very packed so remember to stay on top of things, okay?”

More nods and murmurs of acknowledgment. 

Gavriel began to call names and people milled up to him to grab their new belongings. 

“Fenrys Moonbeam.” A few snickers went through the group and the blonde boy from earlier proudly made his way up to Gavriel. 

A few more names were called, Aelin remembered hearing the other two boys were named Lorcan and Connall but she was focused on learning the silver-haired boy’s name. 

“Rowan Whitethorn.” At that, the boy - Rowan - approached the table. Aelin thought the name fit him. 

“Elide Lochan.” Elide quickly made her way to Gavriel as Dorian, Chaol, and Lysandra got called too. 

“Aelin Galanthynius.” Aelin made her way up, her heavy bags hitting her legs as she walked. She acquired the packet and shirt from Gavriel. 

A list of around twelfth names of girls looked back at Aelin. She skimmed them and saw written across the top was her camp number and cabin number with her schedule and map attached. Camp number 6 and cabin 3B. Lys peeked over Aelin’s shoulder.

“Oh, good you have 3B, Elide has 2B and I have 4B.” 

Aelin smiled but the three girls were a little put out when they noticed their schedules didn’t really align besides the designated meal times. “What are Dorian and Chaol’s cabins?”

“I don’t know they were in the E ones, they put the boys and girls on opposite sides,” Elide answered. Aelin nodded her head. 

“Okay, everyone should have everything now. The kids should arrive in about an hour, so make your way to your cabins and get dressed in your camp shirts. Then we will have a get-to-know-you activity and a little kick-off game when everyone arrives,” Gavriel spoke again.

Once they were dismissed everyone headed towards the cabins and mentally prepared themselves for an incoming army of children. 

~~~ I know that was rather uneventful but I hope you see the direction I’m going in! Also, if you’re here from my other Feysand fics I am so sorry.

[yvixtrae]

Can you do a cix jinyoung scenario where his usually hyper and loud s/o is being rly quiet one day for no reason (they arent sad but sometimes they prefer to be quiet too yk) ty!

AOIGHNKERLFULJDKER-- mUCH THANK FOR THE REQUEST, DEAREST ANON!! I’ve been struggling with a lot of writer’s block for a fair while now, so I’m not sure how well I did with this, but I still tried my absolute heccin bestest!! But also, wOWIE!! I’m still just vvv shook that you made a request!! When I first saw the notif, I really felt like my entire week had been made!! But anyways, enough of my chaotic ramblings--I’m sorry that I was a bit slow in writing this, but I hope you like it!!

--

7:38 PM

The same edm song had been playing over and over on loop through the past few hours at loud enough volume through your earbuds to block out pretty much everything else, and you continue to zone in and out as you let yourself drown in the melody, occasionally finding it in you to be present enough to have solid thoughts and hastily scribble down some more things onto the blank page you’d randomly opened your notebook to—though it was only a mere handful of moments of adding more lime green ink to the paper before you inevitably slipped back into a weirdly semi-zoned out state that leaned a bit more towards the complete state of it. You’re currently somehow a chaotic blend between the phrase of “no thoughts, head empty” and “many thoughts about many things”, but the many things that are crossing your mind are brief and in bits and pieces of actual coherency, your own inner voice seeming to be just a teeny tiny tad bit faded in comparison to how it usually is, thus your thoughts had somehow become more feeling and image based. But despite how the things on your mind seem to be much messier than usual, nothing particularly unpleasant had made itself known in your mind, and you feel a hollowed out version of delight swell in you at the realization that though your mind is messier than usual today, it had nonetheless given you a sort of peace that you were grateful for.

And thus, before you had given in to looping the song you’d been pretty hyper fixated on, you’d decided to try to make a bit of a to-do list for the next day, only to be overwhelmed by the desire to write down the colors of your favorite voices in kpop that you’d heard so far on a different page in the notebook. So far, through the few hours that had passed, though you only had a mere dozen idols and their voice colors listed, you find yourself feeling that you didn’t really mind at how small the list was, seeing as you’d put a lot of time and faded hazy thought into each one you had scribbled down.

But then you got to jotting down Jinyoung’s name on the paper, and you pause as you try to better collect yourself to try and compose any thoughts that are more along the lines of your usual inner self speaking loud and clear. Knowing it would be easier to do so in silence, you grab your phone and turn the music off. A minute drags on afterwards, then two, three, even four. Slowly but surely, you find that any fogginess you had in your head has ebbed away enough for you to really focus on what colors to put down for his voice. Another minute passes before you write the first color down, and then the second, third, and fourth.

An all-too-familiar voice speaks softly, and you vaguely register the lovely sound as Jinyoung’s voice, but since you were heavily focused on what you had written and if you had put the truly correct hues next to his name, you hadn’t quite caught what he’d said and so you had to force yourself to tear your eyes away from the notebook and focus on him instead. A quiet but questioning hum from you as a way of asking him to repeat himself warrants a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What’s got you so quiet today??” He questions, tone still soft and tinged with what you’ve come to recognize as a sort of grogginess that can only come from just waking up from a cat nap.

“Nothing much, “ You offer him a small smile of your own in return and pat the spot on the couch next to you, “Just didn’t quite have a lot of physical or mental energy today, but in a more okay and neutral way instead.”

A small and throaty sort of sound and a nod is his response as he makes his way over and decides to go over the couch instead of around to plop himself into the space next to you. His first glance at what you had written so far with colors next to idol names piqued his curiosity, and he leans forward to get a closer look, eyes eagerly taking in everything you’ve listed despite not really understanding what it all means. When he sees that his name is there as well with some colors, an almost grin crosses his face and he can’t help how he feels as if the fondness in his heart is nearly overwhelming.

“So what are the colors for??” He asks, looking back at you.

“Just what I think the colors of everyone’s voices are. And for your voice… I really think that like, it’s… A hazy sort of dark shade that’s not quite black yet, the finest of wine reds, a sort of deep and rich grey that’s kinda warm in tone, and a messy dark mixed berry hue.”

He nods in understanding, and the fondness in his heart really becomes too much then, as he moves to press his lips gingerly against the top of your head, “I’m flattered that you think my voice has such nice colors, but may I ask, what made you have the idea of voice colors??”

You take a moment to think, seeing as you’re also curious on why your brain decided to come up with such an idea.

“Honestly??” You take another moment to pause and see if you just really can’t figure out why before continuing, “I really dunno. It just kinda popped up in my head for like half a second and then I found myself having an uncontrollable impulse to write it down. I guess maybe… It’s because of how I’ve always been one to pay a lot of attention to colors and people’s voices?? But I dunno though.”

“Cute.” He murmurs, “Very cute.”

You feel your stomach suddenly give a bit of an achy rumble, and though it was quiet, it was still audible to Jinyoung.

“Snack time??” He chuckles, starting to get up, knowing how you had probably lost track of time and forgotten to eat anything since you both had eaten breakfast due to how you can get easily wrapped up in whatever you may find yourself working on throughout the day.

“Snack time.” You nod with as serious of an expression as you can muster before getting up with him to go to the kitchen, though it’s impossible to keep the expression for more than a second or two before giggling a bit.

He tousles your hair slightly and you eagerly get up to follow him to acquire snacks.

[mila-a-fanfiqueira]

Prompt List #1 NSFW

10. Less talking. More fucking.

A/N: Hello this is my first storie EVER posted so hopefully some of you like it if some of you ever sees it. As I have a total of 0 followers and I don't even post it at first as public, I picked this prompt list from @allyourfckingfantasieslove​  (which also don't know whose this prompt list is from, but if you know it let me know so i can credit it properly) i used an app to pick randomly a number of the prompt list for me so I could write something (sad but wise tho).Also this gif it is not mine and I believe its credit are on it

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, my english (not a native speaker) curse word, maybe I used the marvellous wold of Harry Potter wrong. 

Word Count: 2.652

To get your attention: The reader who is a Head Girl found The Marauders Map and seeks for the boys that are trying to leave the castle through one secret passage. Using his charm Sirius manegement to get away of it.

Pairing: Young!Sirius X Reader

“You’ve got to be kidding me...” you said with the parchment in one hand while the light coming out of your wand was the only thing allowing you to see what you were actually trying to believe. How could they lost it? 

The map on your hand was showing the name of four boys squeezed together as if they were all trying to fit a little space all in once. The names were moving straight to the statue of Gregory the Smarmy on the fifth floor not so far from where you stood, you knew that the these boys were trying to sneak out of the castle in the middle of the night. 

As the Head Girl your moved fast to locate the group before they could runaway. You looked on the map and saw that you were close enough to catch them and as you were coming from behind they couldn’t see you until the moment that your hands seeked for the invisible cloak that you knew Peter, Remus, James and your boyfriend were underneath. 

“I have so many reasons to be take about 40 points from Gryffindor right now” you say coldly once you removed the cloak off of their figures letting it slide on the floor around them. 

They all frozen in place, either because of the shock caused by the tone of your voice or for the sudden lack of contact with the material provided by the cloak over their heads. One by one they turn to look at you, Peter trembled and almost hid himself behind James who had the most guilty expression on his face as he scratched the back of his neck, Remus didn’t even looked at you afraid that you would lecture him about his lack of behaviour as a prefect. The heartthrob of your boyfriend nothing did as he looked at you with his usual face: shining eyes looked at you almost daring you to scream at him while a small smile formed on his ridiculously full red lips.

“We were just looking around you know? I-I mean, just walking through the corridors to not forget them when we are graduated” James tried to fool you. 

You took a deep breath with you eyes closed and your wand no longer pointed up to the marauders, trying to calm down so you won’t scream at them and bring Peeves attention to you. “Don’t you dare try to lie straight up to my face, Potter.” you said pointing again your wand to James which caused him to shut his eyes and put his hand in front of them trying to block the light. “I’m so angry at you guys right now, whose ideal was it this week?” you moved your wand to the direction of the most likely to tell you the truth with the minimal effort. “It was Sirius’ idea, I promise they made me” you heard right away.

“Dammit Wormtail”

“Everytime”

“I can’t believe this guy” 

The others uttered in disbelief, you tried to give a warm smile to Peter who were still trembling under your gaze but it didn't worked “Good, now I want you James and Peter to go back to your dorms. Straight to it.” You told them while point to stairs “Remus, in 5 minutes is your turn to patrol... so off you go. And don’t think we won’t talk about it tomorrow ” you motion with both your hands as expelling him away from you. Watching they all go where you had told them to you almost forgot the figure near you that was picking up the invisible cloak from the floor. 

“So where are you sending me Head Girl? Hopefully into your pants?” Sirius told with a dirty smile on his lips and moving closer to you. 

The nerve of this boy was not enough to making you angrier however was enough to made you panties wet, but you wouldn't tell him that. At least not now. 

“You are unbelievable you know that?” You started to walk towards the stairs that would take you to the seventh floor.

 Sirius sensing that you were not in the mood to flirt black with him and maybe you were truly angry, started to following you towards the Gryffindor commom room. You climbed the stairs angrily hit heavily your feet on the ground meanwhile murmuring words of disbelief like: “the audacity of this boy”, “he is lucky that he is pretty”, “could I return him maybe?” “sneaking out with Severus patrolling waiting to take points from us, unbelievable!” Sirius silently smiled, he love this moments when you talked to yourself  frowning to nowhere sometimes you roll your eyes and other times cross your arms while arching your browns the most commom effect that those actions causes on him were a warm feeling on his chest or sometimes just a boner. That depends. 

He was brought back to reality by your still angry tone pronouncing the password to a sleepy Fat Lady. “Nox” you told and the light of the wand was gone while you entered the room. 

You sat on the couch on the commom room exhausted because the late events and your patrolling. But now on the comfort of the cushions and the warmth of the fireplace you wonder if you still have power to argue with Sirius. The room was empty besides you and Sirius and you almost let him get away from his adventure when your eyes focused on the long forgotten parchment that somehow you were still holding open.

 You looked at it and you got to see Peter and James on the place that only could be their beds once they did not move, and yours  and Sirius’s figure standing in front of each other also in the map, this made you look up at him and say: “How many times do I have to tell you guys to no try to sneak out so recklessly? You guys aren’t kids anymore and certainly don’t have the same size to all of you to fit under de invisible cloak at the same time” you said with a little bit of concern under all the angry that split from your words. He sat defeated as he realized that you were on the mood of arguing. 

“And who was the fucker that dropped the map and didn’t see it?” you shoved the map on his chest removing your tie while he grabbed the map and said: “Mischief managed” with a touch of his wand, with a sigh he continued “Love look, I know you care but it’s our last year loose up a little bit. Remove this Head Girl pin and come enjoy with us.” ignoring all what you just told him “And was wormtail by the way” he told.

In fact Sirius was focused on the way that your skirt had raised now that your legs are crossed letting him see your tights. Those legs and the three loosen buttons from your shirt made his pants tighter. At this moment he did not give a fuck if someone  would caught them trying to pass through that passage he just wanted to cut this conversation short and have sex with you before bed. 

Moving closer to you a hand on your knee while you told him something about the importance of being a Head Girl to your resume after graduation that he did not pay attention because  he was looking so hungrily to your lips and in a blink of an eye he kissed you without hesitation.

 Grabbed your neck and pull his lips on yours, his perfume clouding your whole senses and all you could have done you did: you stood there and opened your month to kiss him deeply and melt under his touch.

 Nothing with Sirius was half measures, his hands soon were wrapped around your waist to put you on top.You were straddling him while he was sitting straight on the couch. The kiss were deep, rough and needy and as you moved your hands to his soft curls he transferred the kisses to your neck provoking a wave of heat that moved from your belly to your pussy getting you wetter “Sirius...” you moaned softly pulling the hair on the back of his neck, in response he moved the kisses to your collarbone and with his hand on your hips grabbed your ass making you grind on his lap.

The friction and the wet kisses almost made you lose it. As you rolled your hips on him you earned a delicious softly groan at your ear. You continued to grind on him and bend you neck back to give him more space to kiss you, you let the earlie event goes away of your mind so Sirius could undresses you from your black robe sliding it from your shoulder but letting it hang lazely on your bended arms. 

He broke the kisses only to tear the bottoms of your white shirt of, Sirius stopped to appreciate the bra you were wearing and how great your breasts looked at it. 

“So are you going to fuck me or just stare at me?” you whispered with a eyebrow arched to him stealing a slow kiss of his half-opened mouth.

  His hand moved to your waist and squeezed it while moving up to your ribs making you close your eyes in pleasure and bite your bottom lips just to hold a moan. “Oh baby girl, I wanted to fuck you since you started to give orders to the boys after catching us.” He kissed you slowly, letting his tongue plays with yours, kissed all the way from yous lips to your ear and after bite softly your earlobe he whispered “Acting like the boss when I know that you like to be tamed.” 

Sirius stared back to your eyes without a blink  only to see what those words made with your body. While holding your hair on his wrist and pulling it softly he watched as your breath got caught on your throat, how you swallowed you moan just to seconds later lick your plump lips  with your eyes closed like to concentrate and don’t cum with only his dirty words. When you opened your eyes feeling his hands on both sides of your face you merely blinked as you stare at his beautiful eyes trying to enjoy all of the wave that travelled through your body stopping on the familiar wetness on your panties. “What was it baby girl? Suddenly lost all of your words?” he mocked at you switching between your eyes and your parted lips.

With all the rest of responsibility that you have inside you grabbed your wand with shaking hands on the pocket of the robe and with a kick motion you said with a heavy breath “Abaffiato”  you removed your robe and torn shirt when you hear “What spell is that?” he looked at you with a puzzled look.

“Nothing, just a spell to give us some privacy” you answered while he removed his tie, your hand opened up a little more of his robe and started to opened the buttons of his shirt, the feeling of his warm chest and soft skin making you press your core a little harder on him. 

“But this is new, where did you learn it?” he asked enjoying your hands working on his shirt without show that your movement affected him the way affected so you moved your hands to  his pants to touch his erection. You didn’t want to bring up right now the person who taught you this spell so with a hand pumping his dick you leaned towards his ear allowing his face to pressed lightly against your breast “Less talking. More fucking” he gave you a love bite on your right breast while both of his hands wandered to your bra clasp opening with a quick movement. 

With closed eyes while he smiled with his bottom lips between his teeth both one hand squeezing your breasts and the other on your lower back at the helm of your school skirt, he enjoyed your hands stimulating moving on him. “Oh love, I’m going to make you feel so good” after feeling the lubrification draining between your legs after all this dirty talk  you lifted your hips just so you can push your panties to the side and align your wet core to his also wet tip, you pulled softly his bottom lips while you let his dick enter you and stretch you all out. 

With one hand on his face and your thumb dangerously close to his open mouth while the other was grabbing the back of the couch to have balance, you rode him watching his mouth opens wider every time you took him deeper inside you. The moans escaping from his lips only turned you on even more as you could see him upper close, this man was like hell, hot and naughty. His hands traveled under your skirt and stopped on your underwear which he teared apart “I want to you to wet all my dick baby”. At this point you were more than hot and bothered. 

At first you started to slow down because you wanted him to suffer since him won’t listen to you about the sneaking out, but as soon as Sirius started to moan while kissing your lips and grabbing your ass in that delicious way you switched the slow roll of your hips to quick ups and downs slipings. You couldn’t’ hold your moans anymore and nor you wanted to. Everytime Sirius lifted his hips to meet yours and hit some really good point inside of you, you wanted to scream as you bite his shoulders. “Baby you feel so good… oh for fuck sakes I’m going to cum” he said and his torso pulled off of the couch, his hands took you off off him too. 

“Sirius don’t… what the f” before you could even finished to complain his absence he turned you so your face was looking towards the wall he sat you so naw he can fuck you from behind. You moaned his name while open more your legs and using his knees for balance. 

“C’mon baby, reverse ride me” he said and watched you starting to move on him. “Do the perfect Head Girl wants to cum?” he whisper in your ear while tugging your hair into a ponytail so your back are arched letting his dick hit you just right. You were riding him so good that all that came out of your mouth was a breathlessly “please”

Not wanting to be so hard on you Sirius moved one hand to your clit and started to rub it because your man knew that you hardly cum just with penetration. As the growing pleasure of your orgasm was building up inside you Sirius painting on your neck just made everything ten times more delicious, you moved your hand to tug his hair while instinctively your other one grabbed Sirius’ arm that was rubbing your clit as you hit your peak. 

“Sirius...FUCK” those worlds only encourage your boyfriend to hold you still to seek his own pleasure. He came whispering “Oh love” on your ear and you stood still after ride him a little bit more until your climax passes and your hearts beating calm down. 

“Come on Head Girl, let’s put you in bed” Sirius said after kissed you passionately fully dressed only with messed hair, red swollen lips and opened trousers, open shirt and open robe. He gave you your pieces of clothing including your panties throwing your robe over your upper body before carrying you he hand you the Map and your wands then left the common room towards his bedroom hopping Prongs and Wormtail slept a long time ago and would not see you two aftersex sneaking to Sirius’ bed.

A/N 2:  Idk if the Preferect and The Head Girl can patrol  but for my storie they can. And about “abaffiato” it’s says on intenet that was Snape who invented the spell while studying at Hogwarts, thats why the Reader don’t wanted to tell Sirius, also I made Severus being a Preferect don’t know if he ever was. 

[sincerelyreidburke]

17 for bencole

“Wow, Mel, this is soooooooo late!” First: I know. Second: I’m profusely sorry. My semester was awful, and I have outstanding sappy prompts. This is the first of me finally finishing them off. Also, here’s the list, and if you want to request one no matter when you’re reading this, I will fill it!

Anyway. I’m so sorry. Both for my lateness, and for what I’m about to do to you. This isn’t really angst so much as it’s hurt/comfort, but I’m just warning you: Cole is in a bad place. There’s nothing more serious than depressive language, but it’s definitely hard to write him being so sad.

Read at your own risk, depending on how much you want to see Sad Cole Kolinsky!

17. “Because I love you.”

four years after graduation | november

 It’s getting dark again.

Cole hates this time of year. If he had the energy for it, he would honestly be down to personally fight the inventor of daylight savings. He really doesn’t understand the reason for setting the clocks back, and causing sunset to take place at 4 PM. Cole is pretty sure the only thing ever accomplished by daylight savings in the history of ever is making people feel dark, gray, and gloomy.

Case in point: out the apartment window, the sky is quickly and steadily darkening over a wintry Providence skyline. He hates how you can be facing away from a window in the winter, lose track of time, and turn around to find it’s pitch black out there. The city lights give him a little glow, cast across the floor of his studio, but that glimmer of light doesn’t stand a chance against the overwhelming night.

What time is it? Cole has no idea. He’s been on the floor in the studio for a couple of hours, at least, working away at the bridge of a song he’s been trying to finish for the past three days to no avail. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, but he isn’t hungry. His guitar has been in his lap so long that his legs, crossed beneath it, are starting to fall asleep. The sweatshirt he’s wearing— one of Ben’s, baggy on him the way he likes it— needs to be washed. He knows it needs to be washed, because it smells. He’s known this for at least a week. Putting it in the laundry is a small, stupid hill he can’t seem to climb, so he’s wearing a smelly sweatshirt. He hasn’t showered in two days.

The studio is dark. He’s been trying to work for hours, and hasn’t made any progress. It feels like every small task, right now, is that kind of hill.

He blinks into the dark, and leans forward on the rug for his phone, which is buried under a steadily growing layer of crumpled papers, broken pencils, and random trash. When he finds it, he turns it over to look at the time.

It’s 4:31 in the afternoon.

He looks, blankly, at his phone screen for a second, aware of some stacked notifications but not really reading them. It’s been a couple of hours since he even unlocked it. The glow of the screen, bright in the dark studio, hurts his head a little, and when it auto-sleeps, he sets his phone back down and exhales.

4:31, and the only thing he wants to do is go to bed.

And, honestly, what’s stopping him from that? Because bed is one room over, and if he just gets under the covers, he won’t have to think about how impossible it’s been to finish this bridge, or how behind he is on literally all of his music work, or how he has a shift tomorrow at the café, which, no matter how soul-sucking, is real work, and will be, until he makes something of himself, which is probably never going to happen, because he’s worthless and useless and can’t even write a bridge when he has a completely free Friday afternoon with nothing else to do—

Or, come to think of it, the dark. Most of all the dark. Because when the world is dark for so much of the day, it leaves a free place for Cole’s own darkness to occupy in his mind. It makes everything worse. It always has.

If he gets in bed, hides under the covers, he doesn’t have to think about any of that.

So that’s what he’ll do, he decides. That’s all he has the energy to do. It’s not like he has anything to do for the rest of the day anyway. Ben will be home from work in half an hour or so, but Ben won’t mind if he’s asleep.

It’ll just be easier. He doesn’t want to be alone in the dark with his thoughts anymore.

*

It’s getting dark again.

Ben is over it already, honestly. Summer is his favorite season, for a variety of reasons, and pretty much the only things that make winter tolerable are hockey (a significant benefit) and the holiday season (sort of). He hates daylight savings, because it’s so dark when he leaves work it might as well be eight PM. Today is no exception; he leaves his office building to a black city sky and a certifiably nasty winter wind. There might be snow coming, which would be a hate crime, since it isn’t even Thanksgiving yet.

At least it’s Friday. He catches a good stretch of music on the radio during his short ride home, and he’s still nodding to the beat on the elevator ride up to his floor in the apartment building. It’ll be a good night in; they can order from that good pizza place down the block, and maybe watch a movie. Cole has to work tomorrow, but it’s an afternoon shift. They have the next twenty or so hours all to themselves.

Ben is looking forward to it.

“I’m home, Coley!” he sings, as he pushes open the apartment door. There aren’t any lights on when he walks in. This isn’t concerning, until it is— because Cole doesn’t really hang out in the kitchen, but a quick glance tells him that the lights aren’t on in his studio, either. The door is open, and it’s dark behind it.

It’s like there’s no one home at all.

“Babe?” He flicks on the main kitchen light, as he shuts the door behind himself. There’s no response. Ben hesitates, just a second, as he hangs his jacket and keys, and then adds, “You in here?”

Which is a stupid question, because Cole has to be in here somewhere. He doesn’t drive, and even past that, isn’t the kind of person to randomly go out without saying where he’s going. Ben knows he’ll find him, somewhere in the apartment— he just doesn’t know where, or in what headspace, he might find him.

He can’t help but get just a little nervous, when he comes home to a dark apartment.

Because nine months into this relationship, Ben knows what dark means. Cole shuts lights off, habitually, when he’s in a bad place. He blocks out the light on purpose, like it’ll hurt him if he sees too much of it. Ben has come home to this before. And he knows, on top of everything, that the onset of winter doesn’t do anything good for Cole’s mental health.

So he treads carefully, across the kitchen, and speaks gently as he goes. “Cole?” He peeks into the studio, and flicks on the light. Cole isn’t in here— but evidence of him is. His working area is a disaster scene, with his guitar left on the ground, surrounded by writing utensils, crumpled notebook pages, and trash. His phone is in here, too, near his guitar.

It’s… a mess. But messes can be cleaned up. What’s worse than it being messy is the fact that it’s a clear sign of Cole being unwell.

Ben steps back from the studio, and glances down the hall. Their bedroom is the last room, and its doorway is just as dark as any other door in the apartment. He tries to be quiet, as he walks there, and when he glances inside, finds his hunch was accurate— Cole is a lump under the covers, on the far side of the bed.

“Cole?” he tries, again, but keeps his voice low. If he’s asleep, he doesn’t want to wake him up. At least not right this second. “I’m home, baby.”

The lump doesn’t move.

Ben hesitates, a second, as he hangs on the doorway. Cole is obviously asleep— his body, huddled almost completely under the comforter except for the hood of his sweatshirt and top of his head, is rising and falling, steady breathing. The problem isn’t exactly that he’s sleeping, but that he’s sleeping in the dark at 5:15 PM. That fact, combined with his mess in the studio, can only mean one thing.

Cole didn’t have a good day today.

It pains Ben to think of what must have led to this— because he knows this boy, knows him well enough to understand these signs, knows his brain never takes it easy on him, least of all on days when it gets dark in the middle of the afternoon. He must have been in the studio, at some point— that’s what he said he was doing today, when Ben left for work this morning. Last he saw him, he was sitting on the counter, eating Trix out of a mug, and he said, I really have to finish that bridge today.

That’s a good idea, babe, he’d replied, putting the lid on his travel mug of coffee. You’ll have to play it for me, when I get home.

Cole had smiled— thinly, like it took a lot of energy, but still, he smiled. I will, if I finish.

Ben doesn’t know what filled the hours between his leaving for work and right now. But he knows Cole wound up here, instead of in the studio— where he would be, if it’d gone well— and that that can’t mean much good.

But he can’t change any of that. What he can do is try to make the rest of the night better for him. And if nothing else, that is something he knows how to do.

So he turns on the lamp on their bedside table, the lowest light in the bedroom, and lets him sleep, as he changes out of his work clothes and into sweats. He turns other lights on as he backtracks through the apartment— the hall light, the dimmer in the living room, the fixture over the kitchen island. Each makes the place feel a little warmer, a better place to be on a cold, wintry, maybe snowy night. He looks into the fridge, then the freezer.

Yeah, screw ordering. He’ll make pizza, tonight. He’ll do Cole’s favorite— barbecue chicken, green peppers. He has enough in the fridge, and something home-cooked could probably do him some good.

It takes ten minutes to roll out the dough, another ten to do the toppings. He preheats the oven, and while he waits, he cleans up the trash in the studio. He zips Cole’s beloved guitar back into its case, and brings out his phone, leaves it on the charger in the kitchen. He doesn’t really want to throw away any of the notebook pages, just in case Cole decides, later, in a songwriting frenzy, that something he crumpled up previously might be important. So he leaves those, flattens them all and puts them into a pile on the studio desk. When he’s satisfied, he shuts the studio light off, and closes the door as he leaves it.

Next, he grabs a fresh change of clothes for Cole from the dresser, and sets them on the sink in the bathroom with a clean towel. He highly doubts that Cole showered today, and he hasn’t seen evidence of him doing so in at least a few days. Cole won’t like that, but it’ll do him some good.

He’s back in the kitchen, taking the pizza out of the oven, when he gets company. He doesn’t notice, at first— Cole is in socked feet, and moves quietly, so much so that Ben starts a little when he turns and sees him coming in. “Hey,” he breathes, keeping his voice mostly quiet, as he sets down the pizza stone on a potholder to cool. “How was your nap, babe?”

Cole stops a few feet from the island. Head to toe, he looks so hollow and tired that it hurts Ben’s heart a little. He still has the hood of his sweatshirt— well, Ben’s own sweatshirt originally, but basically it’s Cole’s now— pulled up over his head, the way he slept, and his hair, longer than usual, hasn’t been brushed in awhile. He’s squinting, not wearing his glasses, and he rubs one of his eyes over and over.

When he speaks, he only has half a voice. “Hi.”

Ben walks to him. For some reason, he feels like he has to hold him up, to keep him steady on his feet. He takes him by his elbows, and Cole falls into his embrace— he’s dead weight, and he exhales, presses his head into his chest. He’s a little shaky. Ben would wonder if he caught a cold, but knows better. He knows this. This is a different kind of sick.

“Hey,” he says again, and squeezes him tight around the waist. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Cole is still shaky, in his arms. He doesn’t speak for a minute, so Ben holds on tight. Cole smells like his clothes haven’t been washed in too long, and his hair is greasy.

“I didn’t—” comes Cole’s voice, small and unsteady, from his head pressed into his chest. “I didn’t get anything done today.”

“That’s okay, babe.” Ben knows his assurance in this category won’t really do much, because Cole is so, so hard on himself when it comes to creative productivity— but the least he can do is try. “You don’t have to get things done every single day.”

Cole groans, and shakes his head. “I had the whole day,” he says, and Ben doesn’t realize until right then that he’s crying. His voice breaks on the end of his sentence, and he sniffles. “I had the whole day,” he repeats.

“Hey— baby.” Ben tugs, very gently, at the hood of his sweatshirt, and eases him up so he can look him in the eye. His eyes are glassy, and he has a pillowcase imprint on his cheek. Ben wipes at a wet spot on his cheek. “That’s okay,” he says. “The writing isn’t important if you’re not okay.”

Cole sniffles again, and his eyes well up further. “Hey,” Ben whispers; his stomach turns at the sight. He pulls him close to hug him again, and pressed close against him, Cole cries a little more openly. “Don’t cry, baby. I’ve got you. I’m home now.”

“I’m so—” Cole stops, to sniffle, before he continues, “I feel so useless.”

“You aren’t useless,” Ben tries. He tightens his grip. He knows he’s the only thing keeping him steady. “It’s a tough time of year.”

Cole groans again, and then nods, and for a minute, they’re quiet. They stand in the middle of the kitchen, and Cole sniffles a few more times against his chest, and to take this away from him is the only thing Ben wants to do.

He can’t do that. But he can do what he can. He can try.

“I made dinner,” he says. “And I took out clean clothes— you should shower, babe.” Cole grumbles a little in protest, so he adds, “I know you don’t want to, but you should. You’ll feel better.”

“I don’t have the energy to shower,” Cole whispers, a little less tearily but just as weakly.

“I can—” Ben bites back his first response, because he doesn’t want to give the wrong impression. “If you want,” he rephrases, gently, “I can help you.”

Cole is quiet, and then lets off a long exhale. When he looks up, his eyes are still full, but he tips forward to rest his forehead against his, and reaches around the back of his head. Ben knows what he’s doing before he does it— he pulls at his elastic, and takes down his hair. When it’s out of the bun, Cole threads his fingers in it, like he’s holding on for dear life. It doesn’t really hurt, but it’s tight.

“Why,” Cole mumbles, and then swallows. He sounds like he’s fighting to keep his voice steady, to keep more tears from coming. “Why are you being so patient with me.”

It’s a question that isn’t phrased like one. Ben knows the answer, would always know the answer. “Because I love you,” he replies, without waiting. “And I would do anything to help you feel better. Even if it’s only a little at a time.”

Cole sniffles again, and Ben can see the exact moment he loses his fight against the tears. When they fall, Ben wipes them away with his sleeve.

“I’m sor—” Cole starts, but he cuts him off.

“No,” he says. “You never— look at me. You never have to be sorry, baby.”

Cole sniffles, again. His voice is strained, but he murmurs, “I love you,” and Ben doesn’t want to do a single other thing in the world tonight but be here. And hold him. And keep letting the light in.

“I’m right here, babe,” he tells him. “Okay? You can shower while the pizza cools.”

Cole takes a long breath, a shaky one, but his exhale is steadier than the inhale. It’s a good sign. It’s progress. It’s something.

They’ll take the night in steps, and go from there.

“Okay,” Cole says, finally, and he wipes his own face with the sleeve of the oversized sweatshirt. He nods, and repeats himself. “Okay.”

Ben reaches down, and takes his hand. When he squeezes, Cole’s squeeze back is tight. “Good,” he says, and tips his head toward the bathroom. “Come with me, baby.”

Out the window on his way by, Ben notices it’s snowing. It’s early, for sure, for that to happen. But the apartment is warm, and they have each other, and they don’t have anywhere to be.

It’ll be a long winter. But Ben is going to get them both through it.

Because through good and bad, dark and light, through any season, he has Cole— and he’s never letting go.

[authenticcadence18]

30 Questions About Me

THANKS FOR THE TAG @bugaboo-n-bananoir ILY!!!!

(Nick)name: Cadence

gender: cis female

Star sign: Pisces

Height: uhhhhh I am not sure, it’s taller than 5ft at least

Time: night! (Well I wrote most of this last night, but now it’s the evening of the next day!)

Birthday: well I’m a Pisces, so my birthday is between Feb 19th and march 20th!

Fave band/group: Pentatonix! Or For King and Country. Or the piano guys, the vitamin string quartet, Voctave.....also Phineas and the Ferbtones👌

Fave solo artists: I really like Lauren Daigle, and Jackie Evancho used to be my FAVE. Aaand idk if this counts but Michael Giacchino! love his scores, especially the score for Inside Out. There’s also this guy called Clay Kramer on YouTube who makes KK Slider covers of popular music, his stuff gives me so much seratonin😅

Song Stuck in my Head: Well I’m listening to music rn and “I’m Me” from Phineas and Ferb is on so I’ll say that! (I’ll revisit this one when I finish the list and update it with whatever song i’m listening to/is stuck in my head then) (ok the music has since been turned off and now I have “Status Quo” from High School Musical stuck in my head so! There ya go!) (now it is the next day, and I’ve got “when the party’s over” stuck in my head...i think these three songs are an accurate reflection of my taste in music🤣)

Last Movie: uhhhhh oh yeah, The Sorcerer’s Apprentice! It was SO GREAT because Jay Baruchel plays the main character (and the main character is super awkward), so I felt like I was watching Hiccup from the How To Train Your Dragon franchise learn magic and it was GLORIOUS. And also Nicholas Cage is great. And I liked the love interest in the movie as well!! She had a role to play in the story and felt authentic and genuine, which I appreciated!

Last Show: ok well the last show I watched by myself was Phineas and Ferb! Specifically, the episode with the Mardi Gras block party and then the one where Candace and Stacy compete in an obstacle course against Isabella and Ginger (omg wAIT ginger and Stacy are sisters and Isabella and Candace are GOING to be sisters mY HEART I—AH🥺). I hadn’t watched those episodes in forever, so they were really fun to revisit! I think the last actual show I watched was Kids Baking Championship or something, lol. (Those kids are AMAZING. So skilled!)

When i created this blog: November 2019! It was riiiight after the season 3 finale of miraculous aired and absolutely wrecked my emotions. I had some fanfic written that I’d never posted and had been thinking about making a tumblr/ao3 for awhile, and seeing the finale made me finally go, “.....you know what, yeah. The finale is aired, no more spoilers.....it’s time to make a blog.” So I did! And I posted my first fic! And I’m so happy i did :)

What Do I Post: a bunch of multi fandom stuff XD. This blog started off as 90% Miraculous, 10% other fandoms I like...but now it’s just kind of a hodgepoge of my favorite fandoms (with a focus on Phineas and Ferb, lol). I reblog a lot of posts, and then I post original stuff too! I write fanfic, nowadays for Phineas and Ferb but for Miraculous in the past (and probably in the future!), I draw art (mostly Phinabella art because I’ve been drawing them since i was 11 and it feels good to return to my roots), and OCCASIONALLY I will write an analysis post (I’ve got one in the works rn actually 👀), attempt to make a meme, or dip my toe into salt just SLIGHTLY before quickly backing away, lol. If I were to list the fandoms I post about in the order of how frequently I post about them, I’d probably say: Phineas and Ferb, Miraculous....and thennnnn everything else is pretty random and depends on the day, lol.

Last thing i googled: Jay Baruchel 😂. Couldn’t remember how to spell his last name!

Other blogs: this is my only blog! Sometimes I think about making a separate blog for my art and writing, but I am not sure if I should or not....maybe I will someday, but idk. I also have an AO3 for fanfic and an Instagram for art! All are under the name “authenticcadence18.”

Do I get asks: sometimes, yeah!! Sometimes I reblog ask games/prompts and get some asks for those (I’ve got so many prompts in my inbox I want to write/draw things for...ah it’s fine, I’ll get to it eventually😅), and sometimes lovely people will leave thoughts or nice messages in my inbox🥺💕. I’ve got a specific tag for all those nice messages so I can read back over them whenever I need a boost!

Why this url: it’s a music pun! When a song/section of a piece of music ends with a dominant chord resolving to a tonic chord (if you’ve read a certain fic of mine you should know allll about dominant and tonic chords👀🤣), it’s called an authentic cadence! There are different kinds of cadences, and authentic ones are my favorite. One example of this is “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” I also use this blog to be my authentic, fandom-loving self! So I like authentic cadences, and also, I’m Cadence and using this blog to be authentic! Woo! (And 18 is just my favorite number, lol) I’m glad I ended up choosing a name that doesn’t tie to a specific fandom becaaaaaause this ended up being a multi fandom blog!

Following: 232!!

Followers: 292!!! (THANKS SO MUCH Y’ALL ILY 💕)

Average amount of sleep: wellllll for the past week and a half I was sick so I was probably getting 9ish hours a night (because I would sleep in really late, lol). but NOW? In my immediate future? I suspect my average amount of sleep is going to go down because I’m really bad about staying up late even when I have to get up early😅. Hoping to be good about getting at least 7ish hours a night!

Lucky number: 18! But y’all probably already guessed that, lol.

Instruments: my voice, piano, ukulele, viola (but it’s been a HOT minute), aaaand i used to be able to play guitar but then I got a ukulele and forgot all the guitar chords. (I also dabble in songwriting! I primarily use voice and piano when writing music.)

What I’m wearing: my favorite sweatshirt (that was last night, rn I have on a tanktop), some leggings, and socks!

Dream job: I’m currently learning to be a teacher, and I LOVE teaching and working with kids so that is definitely a job I’m really excited about!!! I would also love to portray characters at Disney or something (well, maybe not at Disney because I hear they’re strict, but like....I want to be Rapunzel or Anna or something, that would be so fun). OR, I would LOVE to work in tv animation somehow, be it voice acting, writing scripts/music, and/or story boarding. basically if I could do what Dan and Swampy did for Phineas and Ferb/Milo Murphy’s Law, I would LOVE THAT. (Especially the writing music part. Getting to write music for established characters and get PAID for it would be SO COOL.!.!.!) Also I think it would be so fun to write Disney storybooks! Like, those books that are about Cinderella baking a cake or Ariel befriending a seahorse, stuff like that. Those brought me a ton of joy as a child!

Dream trip: I want to visit alllll the Disney parks someday😅. (Not right now because, ya know, Covid...but someday!)

Fave food: uhhh i really like pizza. And popcorn. Also hummus and guacamole!

nationality: American

Fave songs: “Times” by Tenth Avenue North; “Can’t Help Falling in Love” (I made an entire playlist of just this song when I first started writing my fic of the same name, so I like the original and a ton of covers of it!), “Show Yourself” from Frozen II, “What Might Have Been” from Phineas and Ferb (and lots of other songs from that show, i made a whole post about that once but I can’t find it, oof); “Rescue” by Lauren Daigle; “Thank You” by Pentatonix; “I See the Light” from Tangled; “Your Hands” by JJ Heller; “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran.....i like a loooot of songs so this is just the tip of the iceberg, but I think that’s good for now, LOL! (As soon as I post this I’m going to remember another song I love, lol)

last book: I got the book Unbirthday for Christmas! It’s basically Disney’s Alice in Wonderland, but if she’d never gone to wonderland and things went horribly wrong there. (I think, I’m not that far into it yet, lol)

Top 3 fictional universes I’d love to live in: 1. DANVILLE, PLS. Especially as a kid, I SO would’ve loved to hang out with Isabella and Phineas and the rest of the gang! Danville is so vibrant and unique and people are always randomly breaking into song there, that’s my kind of place! 2. Fairytopia (from the Barbie movies!) because I could be a fairy OR a mermaid OR BOTH and eat seeweed to breathe underwater even if I wasn’t a mermaid. Like, that’s the dream right there. (I’ve always loved mermaids and fairies, lol!) 3. Maybe San Fransokyo from Big Hero 6? All of the technology in that universe is really cool! And I would love to eat a noodle burger, lol .

Oh! That’s the last one! Wow! This was so FUN!!!!!!! Thanks again for the tag, Maddy!!!! :)

I’ll taaaag @sketchy-panda @macaronsforchat @simplynewyorkbound @inkjackets and anyone else who’d like to do this! (And pls don’t feel pressured to play at all, or answer all of the questions! I was definitely vague with a few of my answers, lol)

[cristalknife]

Kadam Week 2021 Day 2 ~ You pop on that song one more time...

So this is me trying to not start something on a platform only to post solely somewhere else aka AO3 and ff.net  you can find the complete list of Kadam Week 2021 prompts and you might find more stories on the Kadam Week 2021 AO3 collection

Hopefully, I'll figure out how to format in here to make it readable (please don't hold your breath on my behalf)

That said the second prompt is Differing Tastes.

I ended up with a confrontation between Adam and Kurt, with both ending up involuntarily hurting each other, though they do solve it by the end... (if you've not noticed yet the title offers a little light on the tone of the fic, it's inspired by the song Cell Block Tango from the musical Chicago

So here we go, I present to you

You pop on that song one more time...  (or read on ao3)

Adam had never been a confrontational guy, in fact he had always tried to stay as far away from conflicts as possible.

If something was not of his liking, or too much, he mastered the art of quietly walk away and not let things bother him too much.

All in all he had always thought of himself as a rather patient and quite zen person. That was until he had to reconsider all he knew about himself.

What he had always seen as perfectly strategical retreats, now that the option was no longer available, started to look more like avoidance...

Which all in all it wasn't something that bad per se... It was more the frustration of not really having other choices left.

Point was, even when they started living together, Kurt and he didn't have that much overlapping free time. Their schedules had always been slightly out of sync, giving both of them plenty of time to keep up the habits they had when they were living alone.

Adam himself had been more often than not out the house, between his two jobs and auditions. And Kurt had school and his job at Vogue, where he had gotten full employee status, with the much needed raise that allowed him to stop working at the diner constantly.

All things considered it was not so surprising that for the almost ten months they had lived together the issue hadn't come up before.

The problem was that with Adam landing a role, neither had expected just how much of his time would be freed, time he was going to need to work on his own.

Any other day he could have just walked out and stayed at the theatre. Which he did in the past, and on some days he preferred that choice, because then he could work out not only on the memorising but also on his cues, or getting more comfortable with the acoustic.

The problem however was that for the next couple of weeks the theatre was going to be the domain of the technical team, transforming the bare stage into the brand new world Adam and the rest of the cast would move around.

It wasn't even the fact that the music was a disturbance on itself, even if he was starting to wish for some quiet, as more and more he found himself distracted listening in rather than concentrating on his own work.

Adam used to think that he was pretty good at tuning down the distractions, and maybe if it hadn’t been just that single song being played on an infinite repetitive loop, maybe then he could have managed.

Though something deep down in his mind was quickly starting to believe that wouldn't be the case, no matter how much Adam wished for it.

No, what he found as the most distracting factor was that Kurt sang and hummed along with the song.

And not even always on the same point, so there was this infinite repeat of the base song peppered up with snippets of Kurt's voice, that sounded like he was trying to memorise it through repetition.

It wasn’t that he didn't love listening to his boyfriend's voice, on the contrary, he adored hearing Kurt sing.

But in that moment he had work to do, and it was more a matter that his frustration was mounting and he couldn't even leave the house.

Well, technically he could, but he had no access to other places where to go and try out lines that were inside, and with the rain pouring outside, other than make it a very cold and damp day to attempt to stay in a park, it was just an invitation to get sick going out in such weather for no good unavoidable reason.

Checking the clock once more Adam saw it was hastily approaching the third hour straight, and what by now Adam was sure it was past the fiftieth time the song played.

Yet Kurt was giving no signs of being done anytime soon.

Adam on the other hand was past done.

He walked to what was their studio slash sewing room, where Kurt was currently residing and knocked three times, without an answer.

Going against every notion of politeness he had been raised with, he opened the door, made a beeline to the stereo and turned it off without saying a single word.

Kurt looked up surprised and asked quite shocked "What?"

Adam tensed up, the moment of silence had been a blessing that got interrupted too soon.

He found himself almost shaking as he hissed between his clenched teeth "If you pop on that song one more time, I'll end up doing something we'd both regret. So please, stop it."

In a way, knowing at least some of the ‘friends’ that Kurt used to have, should have prepared Adam that any disagreement between them would have needed to be handled with probably more care or at least a cleared head than he did.

In his defence though, Adam really thought that Kurt wouldn't have had the habit to keep a single song in a repeat loop for literally hours. Not when his repertoire was so vast and diverse.

A single look at Kurt was all it took for Adam to see how clearly pissed off his boyfriend was when he replied "The heck are you talking about? I haven't done anything out of the ordinary."

Adam released a frustrated breath "It's been hours, literally three damn hours of that song playing in constant repeat loop and you randomly singing along with it"

Kurt passed in a flash from mad to briefly hurt before assuming a defensive stance Adam recognised all too well…

After all, he had been there, around Kurt's supposed friends enough times to see it appearing.

He had also always been there to pick up all the pieces afterwards.

Having his boyfriend react that way with him, in their home, hurt, badly.

And he knew, right there and then, that they were both handling this situation badly. So he kept his lips pressed into a thin line, refraining from saying anything until he had allowed Kurt to say his piece of mind.

"I didn't know my voice would be so annoying to you, could have fooled me… Fine, I'll shut up, now could you please go? I'd rather not fight anymore and I need to be alone now, don’t worry you won’t hear another peep from me."

Any other moment Adam would have been more than willing to allow Kurt the space he needed.

However, on this particular occasion, leaving was exactly the worst thing he could do, because either Kurt had not understood what he meant, or Adam himself had not been clear enough, leaving half of his thoughts in his mind. Either options were equally possible.

Kurt was standing in front of his sewing machine, rigid as a statue, his defences up.

Adam moved from the stereo to the door, grateful for the first time that it opened toward the inside of the room.

Once he was standing in front of the door, he turned and leaned on it, keeping his hands behind his back resting on them. Adam took a deep breath forcing his own tense body to relax.

Looking up at Kurt, who now had his lips pressed and his arm crossed defensively at his chest, Adam let out another soft sigh and licked his lips "Kurt it's not your voice, if anything that was the only delightful part of that torture."

Kurt snorted immovable "That's not what I've heard you saying"

Adam offered a small scoff "Love what I've said and what you've heard are two different things. And no I cannot get out of here letting you think what you heard is correct. Not when it's miles and miles away from what I was saying, or at least what I was trying to say."

And for the first time, looking at the doubts crossing Kurt's face was a sight Adam never knew he would come to rejoice in seeing.

Kurt slowly unclenched his arms and took a small step toward Adam, just enough to step behind the chair he had been sitting before, his hands holding on its back.

While both Kurt's and Adam's own position were not exactly mirroring each other, their stance was open enough that it gave Adam some hope, even more when Kurt finally asked concisely "Then what were you trying to say?"

Adam could see the refrain it took Kurt to not launching another attack, after all Adam had seen ‘friendly sharing of opinions’ that in his view of the world looked and sounded more like full blown fights.

At least he was being given the benefit of the doubt, and not considered directly hostile anymore. It was progress…

Adam pondered on how to answer that without raising again all of Kurt's defences.

"I never expected how landing a role would allow me to be more at home than I had before. Nor how much more of our time at home, would be time during which we both have things we need to do."

Kurt nodded with a small frown, one that Adam couldn't really fault him. This far Adam had tried to not be invasive and allowed his boyfriend to keep going on as usual, and that was all on Adam himself.

"I know now this is on me, I didn't want to be a bother and disrupt what must have been solid habits for you. If that was what you needed for school, I certainly didn't want to risk messing that up for you. What I had not considered, was that the way I've dealt with it, might not be always possible..."

He saw the moment when his words started to sink in and Kurt’s frown deepened, his lips parting surprised "Wait, you mean the past few weeks you went to the theatre even if you didn't have to?"

Adam looked down, feeling a little ashamed, said it like that, it sounded more like he was avoiding to be with his boyfriend, while in his intention it was more like letting Kurt keeping his safe space to study.

He nodded while adding softly "That was the final result yes, but not because I didn't want to be with you, I just didn't want to disturb you"

Looking up he was surprised that Kurt took few steps toward him, releasing and leaving behind the chair he was holding on "And you kept trying to do that even when I was the one disturbing you while you were trying to prepare for work..."

Adam bit his lower lip, then looked into Kurt's eyes saying sincerely "I wasn't disturbed by your voice."

Kurt took an almost exasperated look and huffed out a breath, that still managed to sound fond, "Ok, it was not my voice that disturbed you, but clearly we wouldn't be here if everything was fine, so what was wrong? The song? The volume? Me singing on top of the song only in certain points?"

Adam offered a small smile in return "The fact that you played that one single song in a loop. I didn't expect that from you, and it's not a bad thing per se. But I find it too distracting, because it registers into my mind as an attempt to master it, which then means I need to listen to it to find out where is the thing that sounds wrong so it could be fixed..."

Kurt closed the remaining distance between them standing right in front of Adam "And your natural inclination of wanting to help first everyone else but yourself worked against you, because then you were focusing on it and not on what you needed to do. The situation had probably not been helped by the fact that it went on for further than the two consecutive hours vocal sessions are suggested to last, at their longest. It must have driven you up the wall…"

Adam nodded, the last bit of tension finally starting to leave his frame

"I guess it did a little, yeah, and then I didn't know how to come in here and ask, so I simply kept waiting and hoping you'd be done soon."

Kurt hummed softly, his body as well more relaxed than it was since the moment Adam had walked inside the room "And when I didn't you came in. And here we are."

Adam gave a short nod but quipped "On my defence, I did knock before coming in, three times and you didn't answer"

Kurt shook his head with a fond smile on his face "You don't have to knock in our home luv, I had the door closed hoping the noise I was bound to make wouldn't be too much, I didn’t want to disturb you while you were working for your role. Usually when I'm home alone I leave the door open"

Adam was surprised by this new piece of information. "I didn't notice that"

Kurt nodded and smiled softly "That's because usually I try to be done before you return home, or at least to have reached a point where it's fine to stop at a moment notice so that when I hear the keys on the door I can set everything aside. I just wanted to make sure that we could have time together, especially when our schedules kept us apart."

Adam nodded and stepped away from the door to stand right in front of Kurt "Would it be ok with you to use the headphones if you have to keep a song in a repeat loop?"

Kurt raised a hand to caress Adam's cheek "Are you sure that me randomly singing snipped of the same song until I'm done wouldn't be just as disturbing?"

Adam turned his head and placed a kiss on the palm of Kurt's hand answering honestly "No, I am not sure, I don't know if I'd end up being just as distracted or frustrated in that scenario. I am just assuming, that I wouldn't register it in such a much different way than rehearsing with other actors on stage, while we each work on different pieces. If I'm mistaken can I come and say something then?"

Kurt rested his forehead against Adam's and nuzzled the tip of their noses together "You can come and talk to me anytime. Next time please come talk to me before you feel this way."

Kurt then closed his eyes taking a ragged breath before letting the words coming out as raw as the thoughts that generated them were " I - I'm not good with confrontations. I know I take things too personally. And I know, I do know you are not like them. It's just, at times it’s so difficult to remember that. And I never seen you so short tempered before. Not that I want you to be cross with me, but don't let me push you so hard and so past your lines in the sands that I lose you, I don't think I could stand that"

Adam raised his hands to cradle Kurt's face in them and pressed a small loving kiss on Kurt's lips before closing his own eyes. Without moving he said softly "I am not going to walk away from you without a fight. But I prefer avoid confrontation myself, so please still check from time to time? Let us give the chance to learn how to push and pull just enough that neither of us reaches the point of feeling it's too much to bear"

Kurt nodded and then with a smile he placed a small kiss on the tip of Adam’s nose before booping it gently “Now I am going to find myself a pair of headphones to take in here and then start on preparing lunch, while you get back to work until the food is ready and we take a break before getting back to work. How does that sound?”

Adam smiled and tilted his head up so he could leave a kiss on the finger still resting on his nose “I love that plan.”

~The End~

[let-it-raines]

Rising from the Ashes (14/?)

Summary: When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones. 

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be. 

Rating: Mature

A/N: Two chapters in one week? What? I’m trying to get back to spacing this and BOTB out, so this one gets another posting even though I’m not entirely sure if my writing speed for chapters will keep up. I’m nervous about this chapter. Seriously. I’ve read through it a lot. So I hope that you guys like it 💕

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Tag list: @jamif @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snowbellewells @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64 

There’s absolutely no reason for him to be running today. He doesn’t have the time. He should be in his office reviewing his presentation for tomorrow. He and Robin have spent weeks preparing “what if” scenarios for soldiers to have to run through in the new basic training regimes, and it’s been such a challenge having to form things for teaching instead of actual warfare. He’s been retired from the Navy for half a decade this year, and yet he still spends nearly every day of his life reliving scenes and memories of his time in the military. It’s a bit of the crux of being a career military man. When you get out, what are you qualified to do?

Not everyone has this problem. A lot of people go to school through the services and learn trades. He didn’t go to school, but he did learn a trade in logistics and planning to make sure that the ships didn’t go down in the middle of the night by some kind of Titanic shaped iceberg or an attack. It’s still what he does now, even as a civilian. He’d like to quit one day, to do something calmer, do something that doesn’t bring back so many memories of loss or bring forth so much stress, but this job pays well and supports his family. He can stay at least until Ada goes to college.

In seventeen years.

He’s going to be fifty-five in seventeen years. That’s odd for him to think about, but it’s exactly what he thinks of as his legs burn, the muscles and joints aching a bit more than they used to when he was younger. It’s usually not too bad, the running helping more than hurting, but some days it’s not as easy to hold his daughter above his head to make her giggle or to make love to Emma.

Just last week he’d gotten a cramp right in the middle of their activities, and Emma had laughed so hard that he had started laughing too.

Mostly he was laughing through the pain.

That cramp may still be going on in his right thigh.

It’s always an adventure.

And maybe one day it’ll be an adventure where he can take Emma sailing without any thoughts of war and the pros and cons of Norway randomly invading Afghanistan on a particular day or time.

So maybe that’s why he runs. He’s got a lot that he thinks about, personally and professionally, and the release of endorphins fuels him in a way. It stresses his joints, but it destresses his mind. Besides, he will admit that while he doesn’t think he’s a particularly vain man, he does appreciate the way Emma tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth when he lifts her from the ground or the way that she runs her fingers over the muscles of his stomach. Plus, he wants to be healthy for his kids.

That’s why he keeps running for the next thirty minutes, his legs pounding against the pavement and sweat beading at his forehead and down his back, the early February chill keeping him cool to a point where he knows he’ll start sweating more when he gets inside. It always happens, so it takes him a little while longer to cool down and to take a shower at the gym that’s around the block from his office.

“Jones,” a familiar voice calls to him when he’s just finished buttoning up his shirt, and he turns to look at Neal, his hair sopping wet like he’s just showered as well, “aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I could say the same to you,” he laughs as he pushes his hair back, hoping that it’ll dry correctly since he doesn’t have any of his gel with me. “Lunch break?”

“Yeah, I don’t usually make it here, but it’s been kind of a slow day. Figured I’d eat while I work.”

“That’s how it goes,” he sighs. He bends down to lace his shoes, pulling up his socks the slightest bit before he turns to look back at Neal. “Hey, so Emma is dropping Henry off at my office, and I’m taking him to his therapy appointment. Do you want a ride?”

Neal’s really got to get a car, but now that he might be moving, he’s decided to put off the purchase until he knows for sure where he’s living. It’s likely a good thing. This way he can save up money and put as much down as possible without having to worry about making far too many payments with interest rates the way they are. And if he’s in DC, he may not even need a vehicle. It’s all complicated and still a bit messy, but he and Emma have made plans to sit down and talk to Neal sometime this week, possibly tonight, so that they can actually get through some of this. It’s odd basically regulating a grown man, one who is older than both of them, but they’re trying to figure out how to be a family. Sometimes that takes awkward conversations.

He’s not exactly looking forward to this particular conversation because he’s struggling with the thought that Henry might have to spend some time away from them. Emma is worrying herself sick about it, and she doesn’t even know what’s going to happen. Neither of them do. Hell, Neal likely doesn’t. If he’s honest with himself, Neal likely hasn’t put much thought into either. Killian’s not sure if it’s because Neal hasn’t realized that technically he has a right to having Henry live with him or if he doesn’t care.

Scratch that. Of course Neal cares. He loves Henry, but sometimes he thinks that Neal is more concerned about impressing Henry than being his father. Maybe he still doesn’t know how, maybe he doesn’t think he belongs as a part of their family. He can understand that. He felt that way for a long time, and it must still be difficult for Neal. It might not ever not be difficult, but all he and Emma want is for Neal to feel at home.

And be a father to Henry, to not worry about trying to be more fun or the one who gives better presents. He’s getting there. He really is, and maybe if he and Emma did a better job, Neal would feel more at home.

They’re trying. For as hard as it is on them, he also knows that it’s hard on Neal. So they’re all trying.

“His appointment is at five, yeah?”

“On the dot.”

Neal flashes him a grin while he rubs his hand over his scruff. “Yeah, I’d really appreciate that. Are you going to take me home afterwards or are you going to force me to walk?”

“I thought I’d make you walk. You’ve been letting yourself go, and I didn’t want to say anything.”

He barks out a laugh, the sound echoing throughout the locker room, and it makes Killian smile too, the corners of his lips tugging up.

“I could still take you in a fight, Jones.”

“Please,” he scoffs, tightening his laces one more time before standing up straight, “that never happened. I beat your ass in training every time.”

“Not on – ”

“October fifth.” “See, you remember?”

“Because you never let me forget about it,” Killian laughs, reaching down to pick up his bag. “It was all I heard for months. It’s been thirteen years, and you still don’t let me forget.”

Neal shrugs, his face still crinkled in happiness. “It was a damn good day. You even bought me a beer afterward.”

“Well, I figured since it was a one-time thing, it was the least I could do.” He takes a step over and claps Neal on the shoulder, smiling down at him. “I’ll see you at a quarter before five, and since I’m not evil, I’ll even let you ride home with Henry and me.”

“Such a saint.”

“I try.”

It’s a quick walk back to his office, and after saying hello to his secretary Anna, he settles down in his office and gets back to working on his proposal while eating the leftover pasta salad from dinner last night. He gets about two hours to himself to plow through things before Robin comes in, closing the door behind him and plopping down on the couch, the leather creaking beneath his weight.

“Are you almost finished with the coding for it? Because we need to send that down to Arthur for him to double check, especially since you’re leaving early.”

“I’ve got one section left,” he sighs, typing out one more scenario before rolling back in his chair and looking at Robin. “Did you come in here to procrastinate?”

“Most definitely.”

“So you’re whining about me leaving early because I have to take my kid somewhere, and yet you’re in here not doing your work?”

Robin shrugs and leans back further on the couch. “I already finished my section, mate. I literally can’t do anything else without you.”

“Aww, Rob, I always knew you loved me, but I never knew how much.”

“You’re an asshole,” he laughs, flicking a piece of paper in his direction.

“And yet you love me anyways.” He curls one side of his lips up into a smirk and winks at him, making sure to exaggerate it. “I really will be finished soon, and I’ll likely work through it tonight once everyone is asleep. Emma and I have a lot to do this evening, though.”

“I get it. I’ve got to go get Roland from his mom tonight, but we always get it done, yeah?”

“Aye,” he confirms. “Now get your ass off my sofa so I can finish this up in time.”

Robin mock salutes before walking away, leaving his office door open. It could be an accident, but Killian knows that Robin did it just to annoy him.

The wanker.

The rest of his day goes by as it normally does. He gets all of his program formatted and sends it off in time so that Arthur can run through the technicalities of it before sending it back to Robin. It’s a long, drawn out process, and when there’s a knock at his opened door, Emma and the kids standing there, he’s more relieved that he’s been in awhile to get to see all of them in the office.

“Hello loves,” he smiles as he gets up out of his chair, reaching down to hug Henry first before embracing Emma and briefly kissing her. “I can’t believe Anna let you in here with I specifically told her not to.”

“It’s because I’m super fast,” Henry explains, not at all amused by his joke.

“That you are. Did you have a good day at school, bud?”

“Yeah, but I need your help with fractions later. Mary Margaret made them weird.”

“Did she now?”

“Yeah, she said something about a pizza, but I didn’t get it.”

“It’s okay,” he promises, smiling at Henry to try to get him to perk up a little. “We’ll figure it out later. Do you want to get out your legos from my desk while I talk to Mum?”

Henry nods his head before dropping his backpack on the couch and hurrying over to get the box of toys Killian keeps in his bottom drawer for the times when Henry is here. Or even when Roland or someone else’s kid is stuck waiting while their parents work.

“I always hated fractions,” Emma sighs as she sways back and forth with a sleeping Ada. “And percentages. I still get those wrong sometimes.”

“We can’t all be geniuses like me.”

“Tone it down, Einstein,” she laughs, her lashes landing against her cheek. “But from what I can tell, Henry had a good day, Ada too, so I hope both of their appointments go well. I’ll call you after Ada and I get finished at the doctor.”

“I’m sure they’ll both be fine. Henry and I are going to pick up Neal and take him to his appointment too, okay?”

“When did that happen?”

“I ran into him at the gym and offered.”

Emma clicks her tongue and sighs a bit, her hands constantly running over Ada’s back. “That’ll be good. If you guys want to go out to get something to eat afterwards, that might be good too. Or maybe a snack since Henry has homework and we were going to talk to Neal tonight. Of course we could always talk to him tomorrow.”

He presses his lips together and reaches forward to caress her forearm, moving his fingers in a way similar to what Emma is doing to Ada. They’re both trying to comfort, even if it’s for different reasons. “We’ll talk to him, and it’s going to be fine. He’s not…we haven’t had many issues with him since we told him about us, and he’s grown a lot since then, yeah? He’s not going to try to take Henry away from you, from us.”

“I know that,” she whispers, looking over his shoulder to see Henry. “I really do. I’m nervous. I can’t help it.”

“I know, love. I know.” He leans forward and presses his lips to her temple. “Go take Ada to the doctor and maybe stop to get something you like to eat too.”

“That’s cute that you assume I wasn’t doing that already. Bye kid,” she tells Henry, waving at him. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye Mom,” he murmurs, not even looking up from his legos.

You can’t get between the boy and his legos.

He finishes up a few last things, checks to see how many emails he has that he needs to respond to before tomorrow, and then shuts his computer down before taking Henry out to the parking garage so that they can get Neal and drive downtown to their therapists’ offices. Henry gets stuck on talking about how Avery told him a restaurant by the pier serves Mickey Mouse waffles, and of course, that gets him to talk about Disney World and how Grace and Violet went with their families over Christmas break. He and Emma have talked about it before, but it’s expensive and they have an infant they’d have to cart around as well.

Maybe some other time.

Why take your kid to Disney World when you can take them to see a hell of a lot of history in Washington DC instead? At least, that’s what they’re telling Henry about their trip next month.

But Neal easily joins in on the conversation about Mickey shaped waffles and the pros and cons of Woody versus Buzz lightyear. Luckily for Neal, Henry likes a lot of the classic movies, so he hasn’t been subjected to watching every new movie to know what his son is talking about. He still has to watch a lot of them, but he’s got the basic knowledge of Toy Story and The Lion King down.

The Lego Movie was all new to him. That’s a favorite in the house.

(He may never be able to watch it without his ears hurting ever again with that damn song.)

After shuffling through traffic, he pulls into the parking lot of the office building and puts the car in park so that he can take Henry up to Dr. Hopper’s office, the two of them dropping Neal off on the second floor.

“So Momma goes to talk to someone, I go to talk to someone, and my dad talks to someone?” Henry asks in the elevator. “Why don’t you talk to someone?”

Kids. They ask the exact things you don’t want to be asked about.

“I used to,” he says after thinking about it for a minute, trying to answer as delicately as he can. “And I might again. Sometimes we need someone besides our mums and dads or our friends to talk to, and that’s why we talk to Dr. Hopper, yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s nice. He talks about you and Mom a lot.”

“We’re very interesting people.”

“Sometimes you guys are boring.”

He chuckles and pulls Henry into his side right when the elevator doors open to their floor, the two of them stepping out and walking to the receptionist’s desk to tell them they’re here for Henry. Dr. Hopper almost immediately walks out, which has never happened to him at any doctor’s appointment in his entire life, and Henry happily walks back in his office with him. He knows that Emma waits in the office when she takes him, but he needs to go fill up the car with gas. So he gets back in the elevator and walks out into the lobby while responding to one of his emails from work.

When he looks up, though, he stops in his tracks, instinct taking over as he folds back into a corner of the lobby while he watches Neal get into a car outside.

What?

What the hell?

Why is Neal getting into a car? Who is he getting into a car with? Is this some kind of therapy thing? They drive and talk? That’s new but maybe it’s a thing.

Bloody hell. It’s definitely not a thing.

Neal is skipping out on his therapy appointment and getting into a random car, and he has no idea why, the blood in his veins heating as confusion and worry courses through him.

He’s already swiping out of his email to call Neal and ask him if he’s okay, if something is wrong that he had to leave, but something stops him from doing anything. Some kind of inner instinct that he honed from years in the Navy and years as a father understanding when a child is lying to him stops him from reaching out and asking Neal where he’s going right now.

He doesn’t…he doesn’t understand, and with the way his mind works, he can’t focus on anything but running through all of the scenarios that might be happening, even the crazy ones. He seems to only be able to focus on the crazy theories which don’t even seem coherent in his mind as he twists them around and tries to make sense of his muddled thoughts.

Something catches in his throat, and he tries to swallow the gulp that’s there while his heart pounds against his ribcage, something constricting in a way that causes his breath to be a bit shortened. Or a lot. He might not be breathing right now. He’s still alive, so he’s definitely breathing. But he can feel heat spreading across his cheeks and goose bumps rising on his arms.

Fuck.

This isn’t right. Whatever is happening isn’t right. Somehow, without any rhyme or reason, he just knows, and if he’s honest with himself as he has this psychological breakdown in the lobby of an office building, there are things that haven’t been right since the very beginning of Neal’s homecoming. He’s noticed them. Of course he has. But his kids, his relationship with Emma, and making sure that Neal has had an easy transition back into society have been his focus so that he hasn’t put too much thought into everything else. He screwed things up so badly with Emma, to the point where she might not have wanted to be with him ever again, and all he’s wanted was to get back on track with her, to make sure that she knows that he loves her more than his own life. All he’s wanted was to make sure that Ada is still growing as much as she should and that Henry is okay after going through such a transition both at home and at school.

All he’s wanted is for everyone to be okay, Neal included.

This, how he’s feeling, how he’s thinking, is not okay.

But maybe it is. Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s imagining things.

He’s not imagining things. He can’t be. He’s not crazy. His mind is fully functional. He knows what’s in front of his eyes, and he just watched Neal get into a random car when he’s supposed to be at therapy.

Shit. He should have gotten the license plate.

Why would he get the license plate? What would he do with that? To look up to see if the Uber driver Neal is using is registered on the site? Is it an Uber driver? Maybe it’s a friend. Maybe Neal didn’t feel like talking about things with his therapist today so he called a friend? Why would he do that? Why would he hide that from them?

Then again, why wouldn’t he hide that from them? Emma would make him go, would be upset if she knew that he wasn’t going, so maybe that’s it. He needed a break from talking. Killian understands that. There were days when he used to hate going to therapy as well.

But…

He’s got no bloody clue what’s happening.

It’s likely nothing, and this is just his paranoia and anxiety stepping up when he’s been living in a pretty stressful situation for a long while. Maybe it’s a bit of confusion, but maybe it’s just another thing about Neal that doesn’t add up when he truly thinks about it. Maybe it’s something. Maybe it can explain why Neal’s handling his PTSD better than anyone he’s ever seen. Maybe it can explain why none of Neal’s scars were fresh, why all of them had years to heal. Maybe it can explain why Neal is so hell bent on being an American hero and spending his time in DC. In working in the government even when the government failed him so spectacularly. Maybe it can explain why Neal seems to always be gone, to never be home on time. Maybe it can explain Neal knowing things he shouldn’t know. It’s only been a few things, a few random, unimportant things, but Neal knows things that he shouldn’t since he has been in captivity for eight years.

Or maybe it can’t explain anything. Neal was captured by Al-Qaeda almost a decade ago, and that’s where he’s been. He’s been through a tragedy, and he gets to be home and back with his family, even if it’s a little different than the way he thought it would be. Neal was captured, and he is a hero. That’s what’s happened.

But what if it’s not?

That’s preposterous. That’s the most insane thought he’s ever had, and Neal getting in a car to skip out on therapy doesn’t mean anything.

All of his thoughts are starting to sound like people who believe in conspiracy theories, and he is not that kind of man. He is too logical for all of this. He’s simply stressed and a little short staffed after a hectic day at work and the impending conversation about his son’s living situation. All he needs is to take a few deep breaths and calm himself down so that his mind stops working in overdrive.

His phone starts ringing in his hand and he sees Emma’s scrunched up smiling face from where he’d just kissed her cheek before she snapped the picture. She put it in his phone as her contact name, and it makes him smile nearly every time.

She makes him smile.

“Hello, love,” he greets, clenching his jaw and attempting to calm himself down from the race that his mind is currently running. He hates when he gets like this. It’s helpful at work but not now.

“Hey, babe. So guess who is the father of a perfectly healthy nine-month-old baby girl?”

“I sure as hell hope it’s me.”

“I mean, obviously I was just calling you to tell you about a random baby.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Exactly,” Emma laughs, her voice so light that it nearly breaks him apart thinking about everything that’s just happened. It has to be nothing. It’s just a weird coincidence, a misunderstanding. All of these odd little things happening over the past few months with Neal have been misunderstandings. They can’t be more. They can’t for Emma’s sake, for Henry’s. Emma doesn’t need to go through anything else. She needs to be happy. He’s overreacting in the biggest of ways. He’s got to cut back on coffee. “But seriously, Ada is growing just fine. She’s nineteen pounds and twenty seven inches. Dr. Kay said the only thing was that we need to try some more different textured foods, so I’m going to run by Whole Foods and get some of the things on this list we got.”

“That’s wonderful, love. I’m glad she’s healthy.”

He’s more than glad. He’s so relieved. He knows of all the things that can go wrong in young children, and it’s the biggest comfort knowing that his child is okay. She once had a high fever, just a few weeks after she was born, and that was one of the most nerve-wracking moments of his life.

“You and me both. Sometimes I get so worried about her. Like, it’s so easy to mess things up, and I don’t want to do that.”

“Swan,” he sighs, smiling the slightest bit because he can’t help himself when it comes to her, “you are the best mum on the planet. There’s no competition.”

-/-

-/-

“I’m dying,” Emma groans, adjusting herself in bed again, kicking around the pillows at her feet.

“I’m sure that’s not true, love.”

Emma’s eyes basically turn into black slits, and he immediately inches away from her, putting space between them so that she doesn’t punch him. He likely deserves it.

“I have heartburn that is killing me. Actually killing me. I forgot about this.”

“Do you need something?” he asks softly, reaching over to her and rubbing his fingers into her arm while she still twists and turns on the bed.

“I think I’m going to just lay here and suffer in my misery, but if you want to get the remote for me, that’d be wonderful.”

“Now that I can do.”

He puts his book down on his bedside table before moving the covers off of his legs and rising from the bed to take the few steps toward the television and the remote that’s resting on its stand. He picks it up and tosses it over toward the bed so that it bounces on the mattress toward Emma. She quickly picks it up and turns the television on, flipping through channels.

“I’m going to go get some tea, Swan. Do you want anything?”

“Water. And some more Tums.”

“As you wish.”

It’s still early, the sun having barely risen, so he’s surprised when he finds Henry in the kitchen standing on his step stool as he looks through the cabinets. Usually he sleeps in on Saturdays, and they always hear the floor creak when he walks past their bedroom.

“What are you looking for?”

“Food,” Henry shrugs, not at all shocked by Killian’s presence. “Where did all of our good stuff go?”

“There’s plenty of good stuff in there,” he scoffs, stepping over to look in the cabinet with Henry. “Do you want some oatmeal? Cheerios? What about some scrambled eggs? I don’t think Mum is feeling up to one of our big Saturday breakfasts.”

“I thought babies are supposed to make people more hungry. That’s what Avery says.”

“Isn’t Avery an only child?”

“Yeah, but he’s smart.”

“Of course he is,” he laughs, grabbing Henry by the waist and plopping him down on the kitchen island so that he’s away from all of the appliances. “I can fix you something to eat, and we’ll go upstairs and eat it in my room, yeah?”

“I thought I couldn’t eat in my room.”

“But you can in my room when I say so, and I think your mummy needs some extra snuggles with you this morning.”

“Why? She’s already got the baby.”

Oh shit. He’s been expecting this, but he wasn’t really expecting it until after the baby was here and a lot of their time was spent focusing on her. He most definitely wasn’t expecting it now when Emma’s five months along and Henry has known he was getting a sibling for two months.

This is going to be one of those moments where he terribly screws things up, isn’t it?

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to spend time with you,” he says softly, making sure to be extra careful with his words while he closes the kitchen cabinets.

“But all she talks about with other people is the baby.”

“Mum is excited, lad,” he sighs, leaning back against the counter and studying Henry’s face, wishing his lips weren’t curled down. “I thought you were too. You’re going to be a big brother just like Liam is to me and David is to your mum.”

“I am excited,” he mumbles underneath his breath while messing with his t-shirt, the picture of someone who is not excited, “but what if you and Momma love my sister more than you love me?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, stepping forward and wrapping Henry up in a hug even as Henry squirms away from him a bit before finally wrapping his arms around his back, “that’s just not true. We love you so much, Henry, and that’s never going to change, okay? Yes, you’re going to have to share your time with us with your sister, but I promise that we will love you just as much.”

“Are you still going to come to my soccer games?” he sniffles, burying his head in Killian’s shoulder.

“Every Saturday afternoon. I will be there for as much as I can. And when your sister is big enough, she’s going to be there to cheer you on every Saturday as well.”

“Is she gonna be able to yell like Momma does?”

“Oh most definitely,” he laughs, leaning back so that he can look in Henry’s eyes, his little brows no longer furrowed and his lips beginning to curve up. “She’s going to be a big yeller. She’s going to be a lot smaller than you, but we’re still going to do a lot of fun things. I always wanted a little sister, and you’re so lucky to get one.”

“You wanted a little sister?”

“Of course I did,” he answers, pulling the eggs out of the refrigerator so he can make some scrambled eggs. “When you have a younger sibling, you get to teach them all kinds of things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, you can teach her to play soccer and to draw those cool pictures of yours. She’ll need a lot of help at first, like learning to walk and talk, and you can help her with that. You can also tell her stories like I do to you.”

“I think she’ll like Captain Underpants.”

He snickers under his breath as he cracks an egg open on the pan. “I think she might.”

“Will she like TV?”

“Who doesn’t like TV?”

“Grandma sometimes.” “Well your grandma is just a silly goose,” he laughs, moving his spatula around a bit while adding some pepper. “But yeah, bud, she’s going to like all of those things, and you can help your mum and I take care of her so that her favorite person in the world is her big brother Henry.”

He and Henry keep talking about all of the things that Henry can do with his sister once she’s born, even if a few of them are a little far-fetched. But it’s a nice way to keep Henry excited, to make him be happy again when he’s apparently been a little down about it. He’ll have to talk to Emma about this later, to let her know what’s going on, and maybe they’ll be able to figure out a better way to talk to him about everything than his on the fly conversation with Henry. He also needs to tell her that today is definitely not the day to tell Henry about Neal. They’ve been working on that ever since they found out Emma was pregnant, and it was finally going to happen this afternoon. They had this whole plan, something researched and practiced and thought through, but if Henry’s struggling with a little jealousy, now is not the time for him to find out that Killian isn’t actually his father.

It’s never going to be easy, especially for Emma and Henry, but they have to do it. Henry deserves to know about Neal. Neal’s memory deserves to be honored through his son. It’s a difficult balance for him to not step on toes, to make sure that he does what’s right for Henry. He’s not his biological father. He never will be. But that’s their life, and biology doesn’t mean a damn thing to him when he loves this kid as much as anything.

But Henry should also get to know about his biology and all of the sacrifices and love that Neal made and gave for Henry and for their country in general.

He should know that his dad is a hero.

Just not today.

“Alright,” he sighs, handing Henry a bowl of mixed berries while he holds the eggs and his tea, “let’s go sit with Mum and make her feel better.”

Henry nods his head before running up the stairs, nearly dropping his bowl, but he catches himself and busts through their bedroom door, leaving the door wide open as Killian follows in behind him.

“Hey, kid,” Emma greets, sitting up a little bit and flipping the channel to something else, “what are you doing up?”

“Daddy and I made breakfast, but it’s not for you.”

“Really now? Why not?”

“You’re not hungry.” He climbs up onto the mattress and crawls over to Emma, sitting himself right in her side was she wraps her arm around his shoulder. It’s one of his favorite sights in the world, and it gets so much better by the curve of Emma’s stomach under her tank top. “So this is all for me and Daddy.”

“What did we just say about sharing?” He laughs, settling down on the bed as well.

“Oh yeah.” Henry looks from him to looking at Emma who’s got a soft smile on her face as one hand rests on her belly and the other hand messes with Henry’s hair. “My sister and I are going to be best friends like Daddy and Liam, and I’m going to teach her how to play soccer.”

“You are? Do you think she’ll be able to kick goals like you?”

“Maybe not as good as me.”

“She’ll need lots of practice,” Emma laughs. “Soon she’s going to be able to kick my belly, so I think she’s already trying to catch up to you.” “I have to go practice,” Henry gasps, moving to get out of the bed only for Emma to yank him back down and pull him further into his side.

“Not quite yet, kid. I want you to cuddle with me because I love you so much.” “I love you too,” Henry says as he squirms, finally settling into Emma’s side and resting his head against her shoulder. He’s just about to pick up his tea and try to find them something else to watch when Henry looks at him with this big cheesy grin on his face as he loudly whispers, “she does want to cuddle with me.” “I told you so,” he promises as he reaches over to grab Henry’s hand.

-/-

-/-

“I think you might be a bit biased,” she gushes, the sound of Ada faintly filtering through in the background.

“Well, I am rather in love with you.”

“You sentimental sap,” Emma laughs. “I love you too. Let me know when you guys are on the way home, okay?”

“I will.”

When the call ends, he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down more. He needs to get a grip, to ground himself. Emma grounds him, her voice, her face. She steadies him when he’s the furthest thing from steady.

She’s…everything.

He’s overreacting. He has to be. Neal is allowed to live his own life. They’re encouraging him to live his own life, and that’s the thought process he maintains as he sits down in the lobby, completely forgetting about the fact that he needs to go get gas or respond to the rest of his emails. Instead of doing anything productive he sits in silence and watches as people move in and out of the building, the gentle closing of the glass doors followed by the click of heels on the tile, the sound only dying out when they get into the elevator.

That sound is what he focuses on, counting the steps it takes for different people to walk the same distance, and when he looks down at his phone and sees that it’s nearly six, he stands from his chair and makes his way back to the elevator bay, loading onto the cart with a woman and her children who are going to the same floor that he is. Henry is already waiting for him when he gets there, and the smile on his face calms him the slightest bit. He’s happy. That’s good. That means the session went well.

“Hey,” he waves, placing his hand on Henry’s back and guiding him out of the office. “Did you have a nice time? Anything you want to talk about with me?”

“Nope. I already told Dr. Hopper about how we can’t go to Disney World.”

“When your sister is older, kid,” he starts. “When your sister is older.”

Neal is waiting for them in the lobby when they get to the lobby again, his foot tapping against the floor, and even though he’s told himself to drop it, to drop all of the wild thoughts that are running through his mind, he can’t. Neal’s come back just in time for him to not know that he left.

Damn it.

If he had stayed in the lobby he could have seen him coming back.

What would he have said? Where the hell did you go? Why aren’t you in therapy? Is everything okay? Are you hiding something? What’s happening?

(He’s lost his mind and needs to get a grip.)

He could say all of those things. He could. he knows the words, knows how to speak, but none of them fall off of his tongue. He doesn’t want to be accusatory when there’s most likely nothing going on, and he’s going to continue operating that way until he knows for sure. There’s a tentative tightrope that they’re all walking on, and he’s not going to be the one to push them off of it because he’s lost his mind.

So he doesn’t say anything when they get in the car or when they stop and let Henry get a smoothie. He doesn’t say anything when they get home and help Henry do his homework, the two of them trying to explain fractions to him. He doesn’t say anything when they eat dinner, and he doesn’t say anything afterwards when they’re all watching TV while he does eventually finish up working on his emails. And he doesn’t say anything when Henry and Ada are put down to bed.

And he especially doesn’t say anything when he, Emma, and Neal sit down to talk about whether or not Neal is going to take the job in DC.

He is. He wants to do it. He’s determined to do it, to make a difference in the world now that he knows what it’s like to have a second chance at life. And when Emma very tentatively asks him what he wants to do about Henry, Neal tells them that while it’s not ideal, he’ll be happy to come home for every holiday that he can and every weekend that he can and that they don’t have to send Henry to DC by himself. He tells them that he doesn’t want Henry’s life to be disrupted any more than it’s already been. He tells them every single thing that a loving father who both wants to do good for his kid and good for himself would say.

And Killian is positive that he means it. Emma is even more so. She’s so good at reading others, her little superpower developed over years of careful use, and he’s got to trust that she’s able to use it with Neal. He knows that sometimes she can be wrong, but he’d bet that she’s right nearly every time.

He’d trust her over everything.

So while he’s calmed a bit over possibly losing Henry, over Henry being hurt at never seeing his dad (something he’s still worried about if he’s honest with himself), he can’t turn his mind off. He can’t make the thoughts stop, the theories cease from forming, the worries festering. And when they’re in bed and Emma starts trailing her lips up the cords of his neck, instead of melting against her touch, he pulls back, turning his body away from her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks quietly, her voice barely a whisper above the hum of the ceiling fan.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he lies, twisting a bit so that he can see her face, see the worry in her eyes.

“Are you mad at me?”

How can he ever be mad at Emma when he’s mad at himself for thinking that Neal, this man they all love, isn’t telling the full truth? How could he ever be mad at Emma when he’s so mad at himself for nearly every thought he’s had today? How could he…how could he think something so absurd that would hurt everyone he knew if he ever said the words out loud?

How can he be thinking any of this?

“No,” he promises, reaching over to her and resting his thumb in the indent of her chin, making sure that she can see the seriousness in his gaze, “how could I ever be mad at you?”

[stylo-xx]

Eyes Closed (M)

G-Dragon: Angst/Small amount of fluff/Smut

PART 9-A: Telephone Games

A/N: more to come soon

P.S: songs for your listening pleasure (The Horrors)

(Part One)||(Part Two-A)||(Part Two-B)||(Part Three)||(Part Four)||(Part Five-A)||(Part Five-B)||(Part Five-C)||(Part Six)(Part Seven)||(Part Eight)||(Part Nine-B)

Ji-Yong twirled his phone in his hands before unlocking it for the hundredth time before sighing heavily and locking it back up.

“You know, they say doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is insanity right?” Young-Bae raised an eyebrow.

Ji-Yong ignoring his best friend, absentmindedly scoffed as he stared at the black screen of his phone.

“How many weeks is it now that you’ve been waiting for her to hit you up?” “I don’t know I lost count...but I’m betting less than the amount of texts I’ve sent her” Ji-Yong sighed as he plopped his phone on his chest as he slunk into the couch “the fucked up thing is that she never has her read receipts on but she turned them on just so I could see she that she left me on read...” “Ouch, that’s a bit harsh” “A bit? She’s rubbing that bullshit excuse for a relationship in my face” he furrowed his brows. “By not responding to your texts?” “In case you’ve forgotten, any of those millions of pictures she’s been posting of her and that asshole, she made it official. Like to the public! God! it’s like even when we first got together we kept it as low key as we could for a while but suddenly she just wants everyone and their mother to know how great her newfound relationship with Satan is” “I mean you did kinda rub your non existent, happy relationship with Cassie in her face so—” “So nothing! That wasn’t an invite for her to stay pissed at me while she’s out ‘having the time of her life’ and rub it in my face” “What did you want her to do exactly?” “I don’t fucking know! Tell me that she’s sorry and she made a mistake and she needs me back” “So you basically want her to feel guilty for being in a functioning relationship with someone else?” “I guess when you put it that way then...yeah, kinda...yeah” Young-Bae sighed as he sat on the couch beside his best friend. “I’ve done everything she wanted me to do and yet here I am still not with her! I mean I got sober!—for the most part at least...I haven’t fucked anyone else!—except for those three girls in Japan I tried to distract myself with...but she practically has me crawling on my hands and knees begging her to get back with me” “I mean she does think you have a girlfriend…”

“That’s beside the point!”

“I don’t know maybe just tell her Cassie isn’t your actual girlfriend? Maybe just tell her the truth? Ever think about that?” “And run the risk of her getting even more pissed at me for lying? I think I’m good” Young-Bae sighed heavily “you ever think about just moving on? Clearly she has” Jiyong raised an eyebrow “you’re joking right? Besides, I can’t just ‘move on…” “Why not?” “Because I love her. And I know I fucked up, on more than one occasion, but I wanna make up for it before I don’t get the chance to” Young-Bae nodded his head absentmindedly “Also because I just can’t...I can’t. Physically, mentally I can’t. And I know it sounds stupid but I can’t” “Doesn’t sound stupid, just tiresome for the both of you” Ji-Yong bit his lip as he sat in deep thought for a moment. “Okay let’s say that, for instance, I were to just let her go and I ‘move on’ with someone else” he air quoted “--further down the line we’re able to see each other happy with someone else and not have any kind of feelings for one another and we manage to be best friends again—” “Doesn’t sound like a bad scenario to me” Young-Bae interjected.

“—let’s say that even further down the line, a year from now, two years from now things go great with both of our significant others and one day she calls me up all excited to tell me she got engaged to him—” Young-Bae opened his mouth to speak, Ji-Yong held up a hand to shush him before he could utter a single syllable “Then it hits me like a ton of bricks that I in-fact am not only not over her, but this wave of panic takes over me and come the day of her wedding all I’m gonna wanna do is to get wasted and tell her I’m still in love her and that she’s making a huge mistake marrying him and she should just run away with me. But then she tells me that she doesn’t feel that same way anymore and she marries him any way. But where the hell does that leave me Young-Bae? Huh? Where does that leave me? All alone wishing I had done something earlier”

He had gotten so worked up he stood up mid monologue. “I mean you see I’m in the right here, right?” Ji-Yong turned his body toward him. “Honestly I’m not so inclined to tell you where I stand on this whole mess between the two of you” “What why not?” “Because no matter what I say, you two do the complete opposite and frankly just don’t know how to help anymore. I will be here for you until the very end but I just don’t know how to help either of you” Ji-Yong furrowed his brows. Young-Bae crossed his arms across his chest “sure you say you got ‘sober’ and you haven’t screwed anyone else, not counting those three girls, but...do you honestly think you can change at this point?” “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” “What I think I’m trying to say is, Ji-Yong nobody believes you anymore. You’re a sad ass liar” “What did you just call me?” “You deserve to be lonely”

“What the fuck Young-Bae?!” “You can’t change. You wouldn’t know how to even if you actually tried” Ji-Yong squared up to his best friend. “She is much happier with him...you? You’ll only be the end of her...you’re just poison” The words and the image of his best friend started to become distorted as his words began to echo in his head as if in some horror movie. Tossing and turning in bed he awoke in a cold sweat

“Fuck!” He ran his hands over his face before he turned to face the glowing green numbers on his alarm clock on his night stand. Three AM.

‘Goddamn it’  he thought He sat up on one elbow to reach across the night stand to grab his phone. He groaned as he hit the home button prompting the screen to turn on blinding him with the light. He shut one eye as he turned down the brightness and began to scroll through his texts. He bit his lip contemplating opening the thread that read ‘Alex’.   He had finally changed her name in his phone, considering he had called her now on more than one occasion, he wasn’t afraid of drunk dialing her anymore. What he was afraid of was that the reason she wasn’t responding was because she had blocked his number and all together tossed any and all memory of him in the figurative garbage. For the past month and a half, Ji-Yong had for the most part managed to stay sober despite his own brain clawing at his skull telling him to just down a few bottles until he wound up in the hospital again; that way she would have to come see him. And with his onset new sobriety, he’s even managed to stay celibate somehow. Though in retrospect he thought he went a bit overboard with trying to clean his act up. With his body not used to not having some sort of release it had inadvertently made him sensitive to the human touch. Just days prior at press junket during the translators speaking to the press, Seung-Hyun had leaned over to whisper something in Ji-Yong’s ear and it almost instantaneously sent shivers down his spine. Since then the others had teased Ji-Yong relentlessly randomly blowing on his neck, massaging his head and so on and so forth. Not having sex for as long as he had, had only made him rely on his imagination and his right hand. Though admittedly it just wasn’t the same as watching the person beneath beneath him squirm and claw at his back in ecstasy.

His thumb hesitantly hovered over her name in bold black text in his recent calls list; he weighed his options in his head as his bit his lip.

‘Was twenty-two unanswered calls one too many past desperate?’ he thought.

He sighed heavily placing one arm behind his head and leaning back into his mountain of pillows.

“Fuck it” he muttered to himself pressing dial anticipating the robotic voice he had come to know far too well.

Sure enough, not even a full ring on the receiver and he was sent directly to voicemail. Sighing again, he pulled his phone away from his ear readying to hang up as the robotic woman delivered her speech he had come to know by heart. Just as his finger was mere centimeters away from the red button he retracted his finger placing the phone back up to his ear.

‘--Please leave your message after the tone’

He took a deep breath before speaking

“Hey uh Alex its me...Ji-Yong” he chuckled awkwardly “I mean I guess you already know that ‘cause of the caller ID...umm it’s three AM here...I--I thought I’d actually leave you a message finally. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay...you hadn’t called me back so--just let me know how you’re doing...even just a--”

Two beeps signaling the call ending cut him off mid sentence.

“Mother fucker...” he muttered as he plopped his phone onto his chest and slunk even further into his sea of pillows and bed sheets.

He wasn’t sure where to go from here. He had tried his best to backpedal from when his own plan backfired straight onto his face the night of the dinner with Suho and company, though his efforts were all for naught. It had been a month and a half now and he still hadn’t heard back from Alex. At this point things weren’t looking to be in his favor; or so he felt that way.

“A-Bomb, calm down!”

“Liar!” she slurred as she drunkenly threw another half eaten chocolate at the mural advertisement on the side of the building.

“You’re wasting perfectly good chocolate!” Sash struggled behind Alex trying to grasp her by the wrist “besides the Guess model with the nice ass didn’t do anything to you!”

“No!”

“Alex, give me the box of chocolates!”

“No!” she wriggled herself free sprinting in the opposite direction.

“Alexandra!” Sash panted as she chased behind her.

“No, she’s fine...” Saige sighed as she looked behind her “we’re walking back from the pub to the hotel now”

‘All that yelling doesn’t sound fine to me’

“Don’t even worry, she’ll be over it soon”

‘I just don’t want her to have some sort of meltdown at that award show for it to be broadcasted for millions of people to see. Saige, you promised me that this new guy was going to help keep her reputation in pristine status’

“Chill out Davis, trust me on this. This guy is actually good for her, if not just making her look good”

‘Looking good is part of her job, that’s not the problem Sai--’

“To the public!” she scoffed “you know what I meant”

‘Listen, all I want out of this is that this show makes it look like she got her shit together and judging by how things sound on your end I am not so convinced’

“They’ve made it this far without her looking like a complete lunatic--”

‘Have you gone deaf or am I the only one hearing her screaming ‘fuck these stupid fucking chocolates’ Saige?’

“Trust me--”

‘You keep telling me to trust you Saige but your argument is mute!’

“Listen to me you hard headed genius of a man!” she huffed into the receiver “you asked me to take over her social media and make it look like she’s unbelievably happy and in love, and did I deliver?”

‘Yes…’

“You asked me to make sure she didn’t run her career into the ground when she came back to Seoul a few months ago, and did I not do that?”

‘It didn’t exactly go as smoothly as I asked...’ he sighed.

“Did I or did I not manage to turn that scandle into making her look good?”

‘Yes, but she almost went completely off the deep end with that asshole again Saige! Don’t think I didn’t find out about that’

“That is besides the point!” she scoffed “point is I got her to open her eyes, and with a little coaxing from Suho and from the douchebag’s own stupidity, she made the right choice and chose Suho”

‘This isn’t another episode of Grey’s Anatomy of McDreamy VS. McVet we’re talking about here kid, we’re talking about one of my biggest money makers almost running away with the Rebel Without a Cause and costing me lots of money when she can’t film anything because she’s either too distraught to work or because studios don’t want her because she has too much baggage following her!’

“Okay, first of all don’t talk about her like she’s some piggy bank” she furrowed her brows “you’ve known her since she was like twelve! And secondly the big picture here is Davis, she didn’t run away with that egotistical sadomasochist--”

‘The big picture here Saige, is she’s drunkenly running around throwing confectioneries on the darkened street corners of London at two in the morning!’

She sighed heavily.

‘Listen…’ he paused ‘I get that you have got your work cut out for you especially since you are her best friend, and I know sometimes it’s hard to draw the line between PR rep and her best friend but I won’t allow her to make her make a mockery of herself and this agency again. Only way I’ll let her even show up to that award show is if you guarantee me she and that new guy make as big of headlines as the Royal Wedding and if she has absolutely zero contact with that dragon mother fucker’

“Don’t even worry I’m already way ahead of you on that…”

‘Meaning?’

“Meaning that since you’ve had me manage her social media that means I am in full control of her phone...”

‘Go on keep talking’

“And ‘dragon mother fucker’ for the past month and a half since they saw each other last, has been relentlessly trying to contact her so I’ve just--more or less been withholding that information from her and deleting the messages; hence the drunken meltdown, she thinks he’s completely forgotten about her”

‘You keeping secrets from her now?’

She could hear the amused grin spreading across his face.

“What she doesn’t know wont hurt her...besides her being this pissed at him will only make it easier for her not wanting anything to do with him at the award show or any time after that. If she thinks he just up and moved on with that girl he’s supposedly dating she has no choice but to swallow her pride and move on too; for good”

He chuckled ‘wouldn’t be show business if a little scheming wasn’t involved. I love it, keep her as far removed from him as possible, soon enough he’ll be nothing more than a memory; if we’re lucky he won’t be anything at all to her any time soon’

“We can only hope, and Suho is completely onboard with the idea so that’s another person in our corner”

‘The new boyfriend is even in on this?!’ he cackled ‘oh Saige, I knew you were the best of the best but this is just fantastic! But aren’t you scared of what she’ll do to you if she finds out this whole plan of yours?’

She bit her lip “I’ve thought about it--”

‘And?’

“And she might--no, she will hate me but it’s in her best interest. Besides he’s been helping keeping her distracted by taking her on dates and umm… keeping her physically entertained…”

‘She hates to work out, she likes this guy that much?’

“Sometimes I wonder how you’ve managed to become a multimillionaire with the things that come out of your mouth” she scoffed “sex Davis, I’m talking about sex!”

‘Oh! Well why didn’t you just say they’ve been fucking then?!’ he cackled again.

“Didn’t really think that’d be suiting conversation to have with my boss”

‘So what happened tonight then? Sex got stale all of a sudden?’ he chortled.

She made a eugh noise “oh no they had sex, multiple times so she said. She just came knocking on my room door saying that she couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to bother him and since the pubs stay open late here she said she just wanted to get a few drinks to maybe help her chill out and then two hours and three heart-shaped boxes of chocolates later and well here we are...she’s piss ass drunk throwing chocolates all over the place and yelling at denim advertisements”

‘Well aside from her drunken rampage it seems like you have things more under control that I thought. Keep it that way, and keep that dragon guy as far away from her as possible’

“Oh, believe me I plan to”

[imagine-hamilfluff]

The Patriot Girl: Part 1

Eliza x Female Reader

Masterlist

Next Part

Word Count: 2413

A/N: Hi, um so I rearranged my request list a bit because I randomly got inspired to write some Eliza angst? I’m sorry. Also, I understand some Patriot and Loyalist families got along fine, but pretend that’s not a thing in this fic, thanks. There’s currently only two parts to this, and I’m toying with a third part. I did not mean for this to be a multipart fic (especially with IIHMC), but um, it just kind of happened. There were a lot of plot points I wanted to touch on. (And I apologize for the crappy transitions in some places. I couldn’t figure out how to make them better and gave up.) Anyways, enjoy!

When you were nine years old, you ran away.

Admittedly, it wasn’t a very well planned escape, you only made it a couple blocks, and you were punished severely when your father located you, but never did you regret running. For you had ran to the one place you knew you could hide: the park.

And there you met Miss Elizabeth Schuyler for the first time.

“Are you hiding?” a pale girl with long dark hair asked you innocently. Your eyes shot daggers at her, as you were still in a sour mood, but she kept looking at you with those wide eyes that you eventually sighed and rested your half formed flower crown on your crossed legs.

“Yes,” you said pointedly, crossing your arms. But to your dismay, the girl’s face lit up.

Her hands clasped together excitedly. “Is it a game? Can I play? My sister Angelica doesn’t let me play games with her, and Peggy just hides in the same spot.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the girl angrily. “It’s not a game. I ran away,” you huffed, annoyed.

At this, the girl formed a small ‘o’ with her mouth and her eyes became wider. Then before you could protest, she sat beside you and looked at you intently. “Why did you run away?” she asked sincerely.

You didn’t want to answer her, but something in her eyes convinced you to. You averted your eyes back down to your flower crown and began fiddling with it with your fingers. “My brother,” you finally mumbled.

The girl put a comforting hand on yours and looked into your eyes with empathy. “My little brothers drive me insane too.”

You threw your hands up in the air, startling her. “But I don’t have any little brothers,” you all but screamed. Except this time, your voice wasn’t angry, it was just upset. “I have one big brother, and he’s marrying the worst girl ever. She doesn’t even talk to me or play with me, and now he’s stopped playing with me too and he’s my best friend and I can’t- I can’t-”

You stopped talking to cry, burying your face in your hands. Warm arms wrapped themselves around your shoulders, and you and this girl stayed like this for some time.

When you finally stopped crying and looked up at her, you had the sudden urge to laugh. She gave a hesitant smile at your giggles, before she too joined in.

“I’m Y/N,” you said quietly.

She beamed. “Elizabeth, but I like Eliza better.” With a small smile, you nodded, but she became concerned again. “Your brother is being really unkind,” she said sympathetically. Your smile faltered, and your face became pained. She opened her mouth to speak again, but was cut off.

“Eliza, darling, it’s time to return home.”

The deep voice came from above you, and you looked up at the man with a soft smile set upon his face. You noticed your new friend’s face glow as she looked upon the man.

“Okay, papa,” she responded pushing herself off the ground, and standing to grab ahold of his hand. She looked down at you with a bright smile. “I hope everything turns out okay. I’ll see you around-”

“Y/N!”

Both Eliza and her father turned sharply to look at the source of the voice, but you merely froze and looked upon your new companion worriedly. There was clear anger pronounced in your name, and soon enough, a strong hand roughly grabbed your forearm and yanked you upwards to a standing position. You yelped and cowered before your father.

“What the hell were you thinking,” he declared angrily. You flinched. You glanced over at Eliza, and her father--who now possessed a stone cold face--held her back from coming to you.

You watched as he slowly tried to drag Eliza away before he finally said quietly, “Eliza, it’s time to go.”

Your father, upon hearing him, turned to look at your company. Somehow, his expression became angrier than before, but he was still able to place the look Eliza was giving you.

His voice was eerily calm, unlike before, but it held a far more frightening anger. “Y/N, you are never to see this girl again.”

Your eyes went wide and you opened your mouth to protest, but Eliza beat you to it. “Sir, she’s my friend!” she called out.

But instead of addressing her, your father looked down to address you. “We do not become friends with Patriot scum,” he commanded, and then began pulling you away. Your body became limp as he tugged you away. It couldn’t be true, could it? Eliza seemed so nice and so--not like the Patriots your father had described.

But as you looked back at her, she seemed stunned, and was gently moved by her father. You averted your eyes from her and slowly returned home with your father, watching your feet as you walked.

For the next week, you were kept under close watch by your entire family, so you mostly just sat in your room and pondered the subject of your not-so-but-maybe friend Eliza. Because even though you knew you were supposed to hate her, she was the nicest person you had ever met. And part of you was hoping you would meet her again.

About three weeks after your incident, your brother and his fiancee made plans for a walk in the park, and you had to beg for a whole hour to convince your brother to convince your father you should be allowed to come along.

You watched carefully as the three of you walked around the park, but it paid off. Eventually, long black hair caught your eye. Your face brightened immediately.

“Richard, may I please go talk to my friend,” you begged, pointing towards Eliza. Your brother sighed, but eventually relented, much to his fiancee’s dismay. But you couldn’t care about her as you were sprinting away.

“Eliza!” you called out, waving your hand. She turned confused, but also placed a smile on her face when she saw you. But then her eyebrows furrowed.

“Won’t your father be angry if you talk to me?” She tried to ask politely, but you could tell her feelings were hurt from your last encounter.

You shot her a mischievous grin to make her feel a little better. “He won’t be if he doesn’t find out,” you said confidently. Slowly, a grin spread across Eliza’s face as if she were trusted with a big secret.

And your father didn’t find out. Not even after seven years of conveniently walking to the park at the same time as your favorite Schuyler sister.

Your favorite days were Mondays and Thursdays. These were your night walks, when you and Eliza were free to roam the park in the darkness of your own accord without anyone around. These were the times you were brave enough to hold hands instead of arms.

“Oh I wish I could see him!” Eliza exclaimed squeezing your hand. You giggled at her expression and she scrunched her nose playfully in response.

The “him” in question was your one year old nephew who had just begun to toddle around on his feet. He hadn’t quite gotten the hang of walking yet, but you knew it would be mere weeks before he had mastered the craft, just as his two older sisters had.

Eliza let out a peaceful sigh, and you reveled in the warmth of her fingers between yours. “How long is your brother in town?” she asked curiously. You tensed slightly but let it go.

It still partially upset you Richard’s wife had convinced him to move up to Massachusetts, but you refused to be upset during his few weeks he had at home. “Another week,” you sighed. He never stayed long enough.

“I can’t imagine Angelica being so far away from me all the time,” she commented absentmindedly. You gently squeezed her hand in comfort, as if to say Angelica would never leave her. Richard and you had been close, but he was ten years your elder and practically raised you. Angelica was one of Eliza’s closest friends.

You, however--you were her best friend.

It was an unspoken agreement between the two of you. Both of you feared to dwell on it, though. For if you confessed you were best friends, you might not be able to control the other unspoken but obvious feelings that haunted you every time you left each other’s sides. So instead you both kept the conversation turning without ever going in that direction. Neither of you needed a vocal confirmation.

Or that’s what you kept telling yourself.

It was getting harder and harder for you to remain passive when you were with her. Every day you were in society with girls who were confessing their feelings for Loyalist soldiers. But you only had eyes for a certain Patriot.

“Y/N?” Eliza asked concerned, and your eyes shot back to her, recovering from your trance with a blush. She giggled and your heart fluttered, but you swallowed thickly and kept a neutral face. “I asked if you thought your father would consider attending the Lincolnfield’s ball this Saturday?” Her eyes looked at you with such hope that you almost lied to her to keep that look in her eyes.

But instead you grimaced. “There’ll be Patriots there,” you stated simply, averting your eyes to the ground.

“Yes, but many Loyalist families are coming. You wouldn’t be the only one-”

“My father isn’t just some Loyalist. He has a reputation. He’s high in the King’s favor. You will never see our family at a ball with Patriots.” You both walked a couple steps in dismayed silence before you added, “I’m sorry, Eliza.”

She stopped and gave you a soft sigh and understanding smile, though you could still see the disappointment behind her eyes. “It’s okay. I knew that,” she replied tiredly.

You were both still stopped on the path and the sound of her breathing so close to you overwhelmed your senses. She went to take a step and begin walking again, but you tightened your grip on her hand and clenched your eyes shut. You could still feel her wide wondering eyes.

Without looking at her, you allowed yourself a moment of impulse. “Why do you want to see me at a ball so badly?”

The question hung in the air, and you slowly opened your eyes to a very uncomfortable Eliza. You knew what you were doing and you didn’t know why you were doing it. As soon as you saw the expression on Eliza’s face, you knew: you were addressing the unaddressable.

You should have apologized. You should have pulled her along the path to keep walking and ignore it. You should have done anything besides what you did do next.

Because you allowed yourself another moment of impulse.

Like gravity tugging on you, you pressed your lips against hers. She made a muffled sound, but you didn’t have enough space in your mind to process it. Your thoughts were filled instead with sensory bliss. Her soft lips pushing forcefully back against yours. Her hand still tightly squeezing yours and her free hand snaking around your back and pulling your body as tightly as she could against hers. Your free hand found its resting space in the crook of her neck as you melted into the kiss.

And then it was over.

You both pulled back from each other, breathing heavily. You registered the fear in her eyes, and acknowledged there was probably a good amount in yours too. Silently, you both took a step back from each other and untangled your hands. And then wordlessly, you turned to the direction of your house and walked home, feeling slightly lightheaded.

It wasn’t until you walked into your house you noticed the streams running down your face.

“Y/N?” Richard asked concerned. He was always the only one up at this late hour. “Are you alright?” He immediately sounded defensive, and like the protective brother you grew up loving. But you couldn’t explain this to him. So instead you noiselessly crossed the room and threw your arms around him, burying your head in his chest and sobbing.

Eventually, he walked you upstairs and put you to bed. But somehow he knew not to ask you anymore questions. And even as he carefully watched you the next day as you nervously wrung your hands and waited for your four o’clock walk to roll around, he respectfully acknowledged your silence.

When you walked to the park that day, your legs felt like mush. Your stomach flipped inside out as your whole body shook. Something in you was convinced she wouldn’t come. Ever again.

You wanted to break down in despair at the thought.

But to your utter surprise, she was there waiting. With a pleasant smile painted on her face, though you could tell it was forced. You managed to plaster a small nervous smile on your face as you took her arm.

As you both began walking, Eliza started in on a story about Peggy, but you could hardly listen. You had to talk to her about the previous night.

“No you don’t,” Eliza stated simply, a pointed look in her eyes. You searched her eyes confused when you realized you had been thinking outloud. “We don’t have to talk about it. It happened. I think we both know how we feel about it, but we both also understand the circumstance. So we move on,” she stated calmly, but you knew there was an edge of heartbreak in her words.

“But-”

She shook her head forcefully and angrily. “Y/N I refuse to lose you as a friend because we tried to fight what we know cannot happen. Can you move on?” she demanded. Tears shone behind her eyes and you blinked, looking at her with despair.

But she was right. She was always right.

So clenching your teeth so as to cease your quivering lip, you nodded shortly. “Yes,” you said softly. Eliza nodded in approval and then continued with her story, and you tried your best to focus, but it was just so damn hard.

You convinced yourself it would just take practice and time to move on. And you were correct. You both moved on. You stayed best friends. And the subject was never brought up.

Until four years later.