#and also they don’t get drunk. i know clamp mentioned that but let’s pretend they do because it’s more fun

[karafina]

christmas art situation

[nationalharryleague]

Saturday Morning

Summary: Y/N and Harry spend a lovely Saturday in bed. 

Genre: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF and a “Two for the Show” extra!! 

Word Count: 2.5K!

A/N: Two for the Show is by far my favorite and the most popular fic I’ve ever written and I just missed my babies so much I had to write an extra for them!! I owe my heart to my loves S @tobesolonely​ and Nat @harrystylescherry​ for reading this for me and reassuring me when I needed it!! I am very rusty so please be nice! You can find more of my writing in my masterlist and I really want to hear what you have to say about this one!!! Also hi soph <3 @theharriediaries

**Read Two for the Show first**

***

Saturday mornings had always been Y/N’s favorite.

When she was little, she always woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen up the hall (courtesy of her father being an early riser who always got a bit bored in the mornings). As she got older, she spent them sleeping in and trying to recharge from long days at school, basking in whatever peace she could get before exiting her room into the chaos of her loving--but crowded--household. When she got to college, Saturday mornings were reserved for dealing with hangovers, and once she moved to LA and her career began to take off, it was the only time she had for herself in her busy schedule.

Her love for Saturdays had only grown since she had moved in with Harry.

They always woke up slowly, basking in the quiet of their bedroom and the soft glow created by the light that streamed through the small crack in their blackout curtains. The pair were often a tangle of limbs by the morning, pressed together as close as they possibly could get, both of them feeling at their most relaxed when they could feel their partner’s heartbeat against their own. Sometimes someone woke up with an elbow to the ribs, but most of the time Y/N’s cheek was pressed up against Harry’s shoulder, her face buried into his neck, with his arm draped around her waist and tightly holding her to him like she might roll away in the middle of the night.

That morning she woke up to Harry’s curls tickling her nose. He had been growing them out slightly, letting them fall to a middle part that gently flicked out at the bottom. It reminded her of when he had hosted SNL a few years prior and she adored it. It was just the right length to sink her fingers into and hold on to him. But she did not appreciate it pulling her out of her beauty sleep.

She had wiggled away from the wispy hairs, trying to get her face away from the tickling strands when she felt Harry’s hands clamp down on her waist, refusing to let his girl slip away from his grasp.

“Stay,” he rasped, clearly still half asleep and mumbling in a way she knew no one else could have understood. “You’re warm.”

“I’m not leaving,” she murmured, maneuvering her way onto her other side and pressing her back against his chest. “Just adjusting.”

“But I like holding you that way.”

“Hold me this way.”

“Yes, sir,” he smirked against the back of her neck, delicately placing a few kisses to her skin while he was there. “You just wanted to be the little spoon.”

A sleepy but mischievous smile crawled onto her lips as she snuggled further into her pillow, eyes still closed in hopes of keeping the day away just a little bit longer. “Maybe I did. What are you going to do about it?”

The second his hands moved to her waist she knew what was about to happen. A squeal left her lips as his fingers began to move rapidly at her sides, pulling loud and boisterous laughter from her chest. Sleep was a dream of the past now, but she was sure she wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

When Harry was gone--either on tour, work trips, or the occasional solo visit to see his family--she missed him like crazy. She still remembers the empty heartache she felt when he had gone on the next leg of the tour without her when they were still brand new. She had to be in LA for her now exploding career (thanks Harry), but daily phone calls and incessant texting could only do so much when the person she was quickly falling in love with--for real this time--was on another continent. By some miracle, she had made him feel the same way about her as she did him through a screen.

She always felt like he had taken a piece of her with him when he was gone. He did if you counted the small hidden tattoo of her first initial that had found its way onto his ribs after their (actual) two year anniversary.

The feeling of missing him never left when he was gone. She imagined he felt the same whenever she was on tours or work trips of her own.

While her body fought against his tickling touch, her heart melted into it. These moments, on (usually) quiet saturday mornings, meant the world to her. This was a time that was just theirs, belonging to no one else but them. Their joy and love took place in private, as privacy became something the couple had been increasingly possessive of as of late.

Harry’s loud and giddy laughter behind her sounded like a perfect melody and she could feel his chest heaving against her back as he rolled onto his back and brought her with him. Their comforter was now tangled around them, wrapping the pair together in a way neither of them could move with Y/N’s thrashing. He finally ended his torture when she whezed out between giggles that she was going to pee herself.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” he relented, letting his hands leave her sides to reach them across his stomach and hold her body tightly on top of his. “We both know how you pee your pants.”

“Harry Edward Styles, it happened one time three years ago after nearly an entire bottle of tequila! How long are you going to hold onto that and bring it up?”

“Until it’s not funny anymore,” he snickered.

“You know what’s also funny? When you got so sloshed you were crawling under tables at the BRITs. Or that time that you got so drunk that you sent  Jeff a dick pic by accident because you thought you were sending it to me. Or that other time-”

“That’s enough!” he announced, playfully clamping a hand down over her mouth, and releasing her mouth and a disgusted ‘blegh’ when she ran her tongue up his palm.

“Behave Styles,” she teased as she inched her way up his body, resting her head on his shoulder and snaking her fingers up into his hair, giving it a gentle tug as a warning.

“You know I like it when you pull my hair like that, so how about you behave, Styles?”

“That’s Y/L/N-Styles to you,” she teased, but she couldn’t fend off the giant grin that found its way to her lips at the mention of their still very recent nuptials.

The wedding had been small, very small, with only their immediate families and best friends in attendance. While their relationship had started in (and for) the focus of the public eye, they both decided their wedding was going to be just between them and those that mattered most. They didn’t wear their rings in public and no magazines had leaked or published that they were married yet. The day that it became public information was inevitable, but at the moment, the two relished in their little secret.

She felt a swell of love within her as she thought about her husband, sliding out of his grip and onto the bed beside him so she could finally see his face. His eyes were always a little puffy in the morning, a sight shadow of stubble decorating his cheeks if he had shaved the morning prior, but his tired smile was always the same. His pink lips lazily perked up to the left, his deep dimple appearing as if to say ‘good morning,’ and his two front teeth that always reminded her of an adorable bunny made their first appearance of the day. His smile usually disappeared quickly though, morphing into a pout and asking for a kiss.

How could she ever say no?

She settled a hand onto his bare chest and propped herself up to reach her lips to his. Their mouths moved with a well practiced gentle love and passion for each other, Harry’s hands coming to rest on her heating cheeks. She moved herself over him, settling her knees on either side of hips, never breaking their lips apart.

Kissing him was her favorite activity and with five years of practice, they were really good at it by now, but the swirling electricity that always appeared never failed to bring a flush to her cheeks. She could never get used to him. He was intoxicating and she never wanted to sober up.

Their moment was interrupted by a loud grumble coming from Harry’s stomach and Y/N pulled her lips from his and threw her head back with a loud belly laugh she just couldn’t contain.

“You good?” she teased down at him, lightly poking at his bare stomach right below her favorite butterfly.

His cheeks flushed slightly as he dramatically hung his head and flashed his best puppy-dog eyes at her with a silent plea to feed him. “I think I’m hungry.”

“You can be hungry but I’m not getting out of bed to make you breakfast.”

“Well, I’m not getting out of bed either,” his eyebrow quirked. “Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you want your morning coffee that you say I don’t make right?”

She pretended to think about it for a moment. “I’m willing to risk shitty coffee if I get to stay in this bed.”

“I will do anything you want other than getting out of this bed right now.”

“Anything?” she questioned with a raised eyebrow and a curious lilt in her voice. She was quickly answered with an eager knod. He obviously thought this was some sort of sexual request by the smirk that rose to his face. “You have to clean the litter box until I decide I’ve been properly paid back for your veggie omelet and tea.” His face fell.

“That’s your job!”

“Exactly why I don’t want to do it.”

“I’ll do literally anything else.”

“My one offer. Take it or leave it?”

“Leave it,” he said with a theatrical pout and crossed his arms over his chest. She was momentarily distracted by the way his tattoos moved over his muscular and tan arms for a moment, but shook herself from the thought and steeled herself in her stubbornness.

The two shared an intense look for a moment, both of them deciding whether or not they would press the issue further. With a sigh and slight roll of her eyes, she stuck out her hand towards him.

“We go on ‘shoot’ and none of your ‘best two out of three’ bullshit.”

As childish as it felt, Rock, Paper, Scissors had become their way of negotiating most of their disagreements over the years. It was a lighthearted game of chance, and while it sometimes led to a few minutes of frustration for the losing party, it worked for them and stopped arguments before they could happen. Interviewers often thought it was a joke when they answered the usual “secrets to a happy relationship” question, but it couldn’t be more truthful.

“Fine, we play by your rules.”

Their fists dropped down to their opposite palms three times, before both called “shoot.” She had gone for rock. Harry had gone for paper.

A loud combination of a whine and a groan left her lips and she dramatically let her body fall off of his and back onto her side of the bed.

“Fair is fair, my love,” he playfully taunted. “I would like my veggie omelette and I’m thinking I could go for some green tea this morning.”

“I will be getting you back for this,” she grumbled as she began to drag herself off the bed and away from it’s cozy warmth. She slipped his go to Columbia black hoodie over her head and took a pouty deep breath. It would have been more dramatic but she was distracted by how good the sweatshirt smelled. It smelled like home.

“I love you so so much,” he defended, opening his arms wide to grab her for one last kiss before she ventured down to the kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled against his lips. “I love you too.”

She sulked out of their bedroom towards their kitchen (not before Harry swatted at her butt that was barely covered by the sweatshirt) and began to hold up her end of their deal. The cold tile nipped at her toes as she made them both omelettes and bopped along to the music she had instructed their Alexa to play. She fixed herself a morning coffee (that Harry really did always screw up somehow) and rummaged through their cabinet until she found her husband’s special order of green tea.

“Come get your breakfast, princess,” she shouted up the stairs when she was finished and after pausing her music.

“No breakfast in bed?”

“You are not getting eggs on our new--very expensive--sheets. Come down here and give me another kiss.”

She heard a whine of “fine” come from their bedroom followed by the padding of feet. Harry appeared at the top of the stairs moments later, rubbing at his eyes like a sleepy child and she just wanted to pull him into her arms and run her fingers through his hair until he fell back asleep. He pecked her lips softly when he reached the bottom of the stairs, but killed it when he called her a “breakfast tyrant.”

Y/N followed him back into the kitchen and watched him plop his still sleepy body into one of the high chairs at their kitchen island in front of his plate and his favorite mug that read “Coffee has a rough time in our house. It gets mugged every single morning!” She hooked an arm around his shoulders and slid herself onto his lap, sipping on her coffee as she waited for his opinion on his breakfast.

“It’s always better when you make it,” he smiled at her and pressed an eggy kiss to her cheek.

“You always say that,” she smirked back at him, only causing his smile to grow. “Oh, I almost forgot. Alexa, resume music.” He gave her a faux frustrated stare as he recognized what song she had been playing.

“And when we go crashing down, we come back every time, 'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style!” rang out from the small speaker on their counter and she laughed so hard she would have slipped off his lap if his arm wasn’t wrapped firmly around her waist.

“How long are you going to hold onto that and bring it up?”

“Until it’s not funny anymore,” she used his own words from this morning against him with a cheeky smile.

“You are so lucky I love you so much.”

“And I love you more,” she mumbled against his lips, bringing her smirk with her into their kiss.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!! If you enjoyed this you can support a broke college kid here :)

[mrs-march-ahs]

what do u think would be the most risqué/dirty thing the evans would do/enjoy?

The Dirtiest Thing That The Evans Are Into

FIRST OF ALL, THANK YOU FOR 150 FOLLOWERS🥳😭 I’ve only been writing a month, I don’t deserve y’all🥰😌 I get so many amazing requests, I’m truely sorry that it takes me so so long to do them, I want to do all of your ideas justice! I promise I will do them all just please be patient with me🥺

I hope you enjoy this, I got definitely carried away lol

Tate

-Definitely be up for butt stuff

-You or him

-I think it would start as a finger up his booty while you suck his dick but I think eventually he would totally be up for you to put your little vibrator up him, or put a butt plug in his ass while he fucks you

-He would also be super up for mild exhibitionism

-Drive to the beach and have sex in the car

-He’d love 69

-He’d recommend porn to you

-The biggest punishment for him would be you sat, watching porn and masturbating, and him having to watch

-He’d be aching to touch you

Kit

Kyle

-I’ve had this idea in my head for a while, where Kit ties you up and plays with your boobs

-I’m not sure whether this would be your punishment or a treat for him but either works

-He tie you up and blindfold you and then kiss your boobs everywhere

-Leave loads of hickeys

-Suck your nipples until you can barely feel them, going back and forth

-Hand on one boob, mouth on the other, then swap, then swap again

-He’d get some ice cubes in his mouth and swirl them around so his tongue and lips are cold

-Then he’d put some nipple clamps on you (but only if you insisted that it’s okay, because he’s not particularly into harder stuff like this)

-He’d tug on it a little, and then pull it off, not realizing how intense this feels

-He’d feel bad and immediately put his ice cold mouth on them to soothe them

-Then he’d oil you up completely, head to toe

-Especially your boobs

-He’d fuck them, not quite sure how to do it, but he’d figure it out

-You’d willingly open your mouth to swallow but he’d prefer to cum on your boobs

-Then you’d go for a shower together

-Since you’re nice and clean, he’d suggest oiling you up again

-The cycle would anew

Franken Kyle

-Kyle would be most willing to mess around with the positions

-I think he’d be up for a blowie in the shower, but not much more adventurous places than that

-But that doesn’t in any way mean he’s boring

-You’d try a couple different positions in one session

-Maybe 69, whoever cums first loses

-Winner gets to go on top

-Loser has to wait until the winner cums

-Winner has to give the loser permission to cum before they do

-You’d watch porn together and masturbate together

-Maybe try to do whatever the couple in the video is doing, switching positions when they switch positions

-Into edging, he’d want you to slowly and sensually suck him off and keep stopping when he’s close, so that the session can last a long time

-He’d also want to eat your pussy while you do something else, like watch Netflix or sit on your phone

-Just so he can spend ages between your legs

-In return you’d sit and suck him off for an hour while he plays Fifa

Jimmy

-Sex with him would be weird and intense, because he wouldn’t know what ‘normal’ sex is meant to look like

-He’d go super rough and even after he cums, he’d keep going

-He’d grunt really loud and wouldn’t moan or swear, because he didn’t know that’s what you’re ‘meant’ to do

-He’d just completely relax and let any noises come out

-At the beginning of his recovery, when he got horny and didn’t fully understand what was happening, he’d just hump things

-If you cuddled and he got a boner he would grind against your ass until he came his pants

-You’d help him and straddle him occasionally and grind on him

-Then one day you show him how to jack off

-Bad mistake

-Suddenly he wants to do it anywhere

-In the middle of a restaurant he starts palming himself through his underwear and will not stop no matter how much you tell him it’s inappropriate

-So the next best thing you can do is take him to the bathroom and get on your knees for him

-The only problem being, as I mentioned before, he doesn’t realize how loud he is

-But because he’s like a puppy in his Franken state, he only understands behavior

-All he understands is that if he palms himself through his underwear in public: he gets a sucky

-So he does it all the time

-But you don’t complain

James

-I think one of his biggest fantasies would be anal

-I think he’d love how it felt

-He’d love it when you wear buttplugs, but he would never want to have anything up his own ass

-He also would love to tease you all day in public, and then get home and fuck you all night

-Even though he would pretend he doesn’t like it, he’d adore if you teased him all day

-Whisper dirty things in his ear, shake your ass for him, and then go to your caravan and act like you never did anything

-I think he’d want to fuck you outside in the field at night

-So it’s totally in public, but everybody is asleep in their tents so nobody notices

-He’d love to get drunk and have messy sex

-I think he’d love to spank you at least once

-If you were super into it, it would become a thing

-If you were naughty, he would spank you

-We also know he’s into food

-I think he’d like to lick chocolate or whipped cream off you

-You’d drizzle chocolate on his cock and then suck it all off

Kai

-What wouldn’t he be into?

-Exhibitionism definitely

- “Darling, one more dirty comment like that in my ear, and Daddy just might have to bend you over this table and punish you in front of everybody, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

- “Who said I don’t want that?”

-The only thing he wouldn’t be up for at all is a threesome

-He’d love it if you put a plug in or a remote control vibrator and went out to a fancy dinner with him

-For the duration of an hour, he’d be slowly turning the vibrator higher and higher, and then if you got too close or a little too loud, he’d turn it off completely

-Then after a few minutes for the high to settle down, he’d turn it on low again

-It’s also well established that he has a corruption kink

-So he’d love to tie you up and fuck you over and over again until you’re a complete dirty mess

-I want to say he’d put a vibrator in you and leave you there, but I don’t think he would want you to be overstimulated with a toy

-Only he can give you orgasms

-He’d only use a vibrator if he can stop it last minute and make you actually cum himself

-If he found out you masturbated without him, he’d be furious

-He’d throw you dildo/ vibrator away and punish you with chastity

-But after like three days, he’d get sick of it and he’d get you to suck his dick all the time

-You’d happily do it, but you’d get way too turned on from it, so you’d beg him to do something to you, so he would spank you or belt you

-He’s literally into anything

-As long as you remain sweet

-Super into rope and bondage

-I think the most intense thing he’d do, is share you

-He’d tie you up like a rope bunny and put a gag in your mouth, then leave you in the basement for a bit for you to just sit and wonder what’s going to happen to you

-He’d come downstairs with Samuels and Harrison

- “I want to teach the boys how to please a woman, I’m going to use you as my training dummy, I know you won’t mind”

-You’d be shocked and wriggle around but everything you did, even if it was bad, Kai would make it sound like it’s good

- “She’s shaking in anticipation”

-Samuels would fuck you and Kai would sit and watch closely, not caring about him, only caring about you

-He’d occasionally turn your head to look at Samuels not him

- “Kai is it okay if I cum in her?”

- “You want Samuels to fill your dirty pussy with his cum?”

- You’d try to scream but the gag would stop you, so you’d be left making loud intelligible noises and shake your head

-But Kai would twist it

- “She’s moaning, she’s practically begging you to fill her up”

-He might even encourage Harrison and Samuels to try double penetration on you

-You’d be hesitant but they’d do it and you’d be super into it, making Kai mad

-When they leave, he’d fuck you all night long, making sure you’re enjoying sex with him more than you did with them

- “Who can fuck this pussy better? Those clowns, or your Divine Ruler?”

-Again, it didn’t matter what you said with the gag in your mouth stopping you, so he’d hear what he wants to hear

- “That’s what I thought, slut”

-He’d belt or whip you afterwards and make you say thank you after every one

- “Thank you for using me, Divine Ruler”

- “I’m grateful to be your cum whore”

- “It’s an honor to be used by you”

-He’d make sure the next cult meeting you’re wearing something revealing, so that everybody knows he whipped you good

-Marking his territory

-( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

-also Kai likes piss

[potter-imagines]

Library Confessions (George Weasley)

Summary:  george fluff?? maybe like some sort of best friends to lovers kinda deal?

Notes: I've been wanting to write George for a while so I was excited to make this !! hope you enjoy x

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff

Word Count: 5.3k

It was a flurry and cold winter day, the kind of day when every breath stings the lungs and every exhale chills the lips. The frigid air, the slippery ground and the sheet of white covering the once green grass. All signs winter was here and cold times were ahead. Even in the highlands of Scotland, the winters were ferosus and unforgiving. Seeing as it was your seventh, and final, year at Hogwarts, most would assume you’d have adapted to the cold by now, but that wasn’t the case. Although as much as you despised the freezing temperature, the pulsating tick of your headache preferred the cold over the thunderous noise back inside.

The Gryffindor common room was too rambunctious- wild, uncontrolled for your desires tonight. It was Friday and tomorrow was the highly anticipated day trip to Hogsmeade. Students were understandable thrilled and you would have loved to join in, but the throbbing pain and stress of school on your shoulders masked your fun. The migraines were brought on by school, but also the idea that you would not get to join your friends tomorrow.

Your feet carried you further from the common room, the rowdy noise fading with every step. If the weight of homework wasn’t so heavy on your shoulders, the party would’ve been in your plans. You tried to stay as long as you could but after about twenty minutes, and three Weasley fireworks being set off, you decided a breath of fresh air sounded delightful.

Your best friends, Fred and George Weasley, were the cause of this chaos. They were fully sober yet drunk off the energy of the room. When you had left, Fred and Lee were orchestrating a tournament of pumpkin juice pong, and George was sitting on the scarlet couch talking to Harry, Ron and Hermione. His eyes darted to you every few seconds. Sometimes he would hold the gaze, or send you a wink, but most of the times he snapped his head back to the golden trio, pretending his attention was elsewhere.

It made your heart thump against the bones of your chest. You were sure if he had been sitting beside you he’d surely hear it, loud and clear. A deep pink blush spread across your cheeks at the thought of George. You had been close friends with the twins since you stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express and sat in the same cabinet as them. Through the years, the bond grew stronger yet developed differently with each twin. Fred was like an annoying, overbearing, proactive big brother and George, well, the affection you felt for George was not in a brotherly way. 

Since your third year, you started noticing subtle things about him. Like how he arched his eyebrows when he spoke, or when he’d bite his lip when taking notes. He also had a tendency to eat his dessert first, if you got him laughing enough he’d accidentally let out a tiny snort and he always stood to your left when you walked to class together. When winter came, George was always shedding his clothes in order to keep you warm. Fred would complain that you knew it was snowing, therefore it’s your fault for being cold, but never George. Not to say that Fred is cruel, he can be a gentleman when he chooses but your relationship was more sibling bickering and competition. But George had always been a bit, sweeter than Fred.

Most wrote the twins off as one person but the differences between the twins was written out in neon signs, in your eyes. Maybe it was because you were closer to the twins than most, besides Lee. They were both your best friends, but they treated you in polar opposite ways. If Fred ever tried to cuddle you in his bed, you were sure you’d ‘Stupefy’ him into oblivion. When George did it, you could hardly croak a breath with all the rockets exploding in your heart.

The fragrance of frosted pine and butterscotch wafted through the nipping air as you approached the north entrance of the castle. Winter was finally here. The beauty of Hogwarts shined most bright during this time of the year. Snow crunched under the weight of your foot while you trudged through the courtyard taking advantage of the short cut. With the overwhelming school work piling by the second, slipping into the library didn’t seem like such a bad idea. You had two papers, a research project for Magical Creatures, and an exam in Potions. Not to mention you were expected to memorize and perfect a list of disarming and protection spells before Defense Against the Dark Arts by Tuesday.

Lost in your own stress, you hardly noticed your feet carrying you into the large doors of the library. The lighting was low and the attendance was even dimmer. A few Hufflepuffs and a handful of Ravenclaws were scattered around the room. Madam Pince nodded her head at your arrival then returned to her work behind the main desk.

Sliding into an empty table, you started to situate yourself. A stack of parchment was already waiting next to a clean quill and glass container of ink. It wasn’t hard to find the necessary textbooks and you returned back to your seat rather quickly.

A good twenty minutes had passed before your ears perked up at the sound of Madam Pince scolding a student. You didn’t have a clean view of her desk but you assumed a group had gotten too loud for her liking. Turning back to your book you faced away from the main entrance of the library. Eyes scanning the textbook, a new presence creeping up behind you went unnoticed. As you flipped to the next page in the advanced potions book, a grasp clamped down on either shoulder and a pair of lips hovered dangerously close to your ear. The unexpected warmth created a jolt on energy through your body. You practically flung out of your chair in surprise, whipping around to face your attacker. The initial glare and scowl soon washed away as your eyes met a familiar pair of warm, chocolate orbs.

George Weasley had a devilish grin, proudly basking in your shock. Not giving you a second to refuse his arrival, George pulled the wooden chair besides you out and sat in it. Throwing his arm across your shoulder, he smiled innocently at you.

“And what might you be doing in here on this eventful Friday evening, hm?”

Still reeling in shock, you placed your hand over your heart in hopes to calm down from the scare. Wildly glaring up at George, you yelled in a hush tone,

“George! You nearly gave me a heart attack- what’re you doing here?” You smacked his chest with a thud, though George remained unphased. His eyes squinted down at you while he shot back,

“Pretty sure I asked you first, love.” He said smugly. A large maroon and gold sweater adorned his frame, paired with dark washed jeans. You could smell the signature scent of pine and cinnamon that wafted wherever he followed. Folding your book on the table top, you glared playfully at the ginger.

“What else is there to do in a library besides studying?” The smart reply caused a twinkle in George’s eyes. You could practically see the gears turning as his witty side took control. His fingers tightened around the blades of your shoulder, dragging you a tad closer to him.

“Plenty of things-” An instant smack came as you knocked his side once more. George chuckled at your reaction, clearly amused by the flusterness taking over your features. Motioning towards the stack of parchment and mountain high pile of lengthy textbooks, you shook your head.

“I’ve got a lot of work due this coming week, so figured I’d get a head start.”

“Ah, you weren’t enjoying the party.” He declared knowingly. George typically never left your side during house parties. The anxiousness and suffocation of the noise that crept into your veins was always capped by the feeling of his arm around your shoulder protectively. Although tonight, George ran to the Golden Trio the moment the function began, leaving you alone in the corner with Dean and Seamus. You were friends with the boys but George was the only one who could make you feel relaxed and him being busy, escaping the party seemed like the best option.

Leaning into your chair, a heavy sigh fell from your parted lips at the recollection of tonight. “Not really I suppose. I don’t know… not in the partying mood tonight.” You admitted softly. George’s face furrowed immediately, concerned painting his features boldly. The dim lighting of the library all but hid the gleam of worry in his eyes.

“What’s got you stressed, darling?”

Scoffing at the question you picked up your book and started flipping through the pages again. For starters, you couldn’t decide where was the best place to start when it came to all your worries. There was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who returned last school year, the fact that the twins were planning on leaving early to open their shop (which they asked you to help run once you finished with school), home stress, school work, your feelings for George, trying to figure out your plans for after Hogwarts, and so much more. The weight of the world was crashing down on you and for the first time, you felt like allowing it to crumble you.

“You mean besides the school work I’m drowning in and the ever looming fear of being murdered by the Dark Lord himself? Eh, not much.” The sarcastic reply was all too familiar to George. Having spent the last seven years glued to your side, he started to pick up on your antics. Like your constant need to use sarcasm to hide your genuine fears. He studied you for a moment, searching for any hint on what really had you worked up.

Reaching his hand out, George plucked the potions book from your hands and started surveying it. He tilted the book upside down, pretending to read the text. Scrunching his brows, the fiery twin feigned comprehension of the material, a small ‘oohh’ and ‘hm’ falling from his lips as he did so. His silly antics caused you to giggle as he threw the book back to the table.

“Why’re you doing homework on a Friday night, anyhow? You’ve got all tomorrow morning and all day Sunday for that!”

“Technically have all day tomorrow as well-” George stopped you short as he cut into the conversation stubbornly.

“No, we’re all going to Hogsmeade and I already claimed your spot next to me at The Three Broomsticks!” He resembled a pouty child as he huffed besides you. Flipping the page of your textbook, your mouth bunched in the corner, guilt entering your bloodstream.

“I’m really sorry, Georgie. If my grades slip any further- my mum’ll have my head on a stick! Besides, I didn’t figure it would be that big of a deal, everyone else is going so I’m sure my absence will not be noticed.” Your laugh was meant to cover the tang of honest hurt, although you hoped it would slip past him. Of course, George noticed everything when it came to you and seeing you down was definitely not something he felt okay with ignoring.

“But I’ll notice- just like I did tonight.” He added with a point of the finger. It was true, George always seemed to notice when you were missing. He also always seemed to know where you were when you did sneak away.

“Thanks…” Trailing off, you glanced over to George. The honey like orbs were already examining your features. You assumed he must’ve picked up on the sadness dripping through your pores because the next thing you knew, George was offering up his entire Saturday.

“You want me to stay back with you?” Your head snapped in his direction immediately. With a bugged stare, you shook your head feverishly.

“What- no! You and Fred practically countdown the days until we get to go to Hogsmeade. I know how bad you wanna go, don’t skip out ‘cause of me.”

“We do have another trip next month so I can just wait to go until then. I’m sure Hogsmeade will still be flourishing by then. C’mon, you know you want me to stay back. You’ll bore yourself to death without me around!”

“You’d just be staying back because you feel bad-” George interrupted you, face reading bewilderment at your accusation.

“No, I’d be staying back because I want to. Y/n, when have I ever hung out with someone I don't want to be around- besides Percy seeing as I’m obligated to share a home with him. I want to spend time with you, that’s why I look forward to Hogsmeade trips. Get to spend time with you outside of the castle. So if you’re not there, I’m just gonna be miserable, love. Which means, I better just stay back with you.” A mischievous smirk rose to his lips as he finished his spiel, crossing his arms across his chest. The material of his sweater bunched around his fold and you admired Molly’s handiwork. Pressing your finger into his chest, you gave George a playful shove. He reached out for the table top to sturdy himself as he chuckled. Batting your lashes you teasingly cooed,

“Sounds like someone can’t get enough of me.” Not missing a beat, George rested his elbow on the tabletop. His chin was planted in his palm as he leered dreamily.

“Thought we already established that.” He winked over to you. Lifting up your heavy book, you sheltered your blushing cheeks behind the pages. Your forehead pressed deeply into the pages as you folded the covers around your heated face.

“You joke too much.” Mumbling into the book, you were taken aback when a hand abruptly snatched the book from your fingertips. You watched as the book went above your head, then settled in George’s hand. He snapped the cover shut between his hands, an echoing ‘snap’ invading the library. The peppermint lingering on his breath smacked against your lips. George ran his finger over the title page, then tossed it to the side. As the book slammed on the counter, he turned his head back to you.

“Never about my feelings towards you, though.” He stated seriously. Your brows pulled together in a stern line.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your furrowed gaze rested heavily upon him.

“I just… really like spending time with you. Like just the two of us.” As he finished speaking, you watched cautiously as George’s hand sneaked over to land on top of yours. His palm was warm on top of yours. After a few seconds, he flipped your hand over so it was set inside his. That comfort feeling bursted in your chest under the weight of his eyes. It was funny how the simplest of actions from him could cause a firework extravaganza in your chest. The tension in your throat was increasing.

“I do, too, Georgie. You’re very sweet.” You smiled awkwardly, the bashfulness overcoming every cell in your body. When Fred complimented you or was too kind, it made you suspicious. Usually he buttered you up before a prank, so you never fully trusted his words but George? George was too gentle to ever set you up or put you in harms way.

“Y/n… there was actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you- well something I was gonna ask you tomorrow but seeing as you’re not going, might as well as you now.” The mumble was a notch above audible. You watched on as he fumbled with his hands, twiddling his thumbs nervously. His anxiousness was contagious as you soon felt uneasy as well. Your mind raced in worry as you wondered what was clouding his mind. As if it was second nature, your hand moved out in reaction to his worrisome state to snake his hand into your own. Softening your piercing stare, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“What’s wrong, George?”

His attention was shifted to your locked hands. It wasn’t the first time you held his hand, although it was the first time you were knocked off balance by the wave of electricity streaming down your spine from the touch. Based on his reaction, you figured George felt it too.

“Uh, would you ever want to, like, go on a date? I um, I’ve really liked you for quite some time now and I keep trying to ask you but I get nervous cause… I just needed to tell you myself before Fred does it for me.”

“Tell me now if this is a prank, George Weasley.” The sternness in your voice was something George only heard on occasion. He knew not to joke when it came to your heart so he was taken aback by your words, though understood why. You saw the confusion stirring in his brain before he settled your worries.

“It’s not a prank, love, I swear on my life. I would never lie about my feelings, that I can promise.”

“Tomorrow?” You looked up, eyes peeking over to your side. George had hardly moved and stared blankly at you. It was if his brain had hit a wall and was lagging in processing. The candle on the table flickered, orange and red shadows flashing across his face. Even in the shadows the razor sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones popped.

“Huh?” He croaked.

Catching a Weasley twin off guard was not a common thing and George appeared baffled. Hands folded in your lap, you could feel the small shake to his grasp. In an odd way, you felt a surge of confidence knowing you had the power to make George blush. Tightening your hand around his own, you roamed the pad of your thumb across his knuckles.

“Could we go on a date tomorrow? After I finished at least two of my papers- could we go on a date then?” It was hard to shake the electric shock tingling through your bones. Never before had you basked in eyes as beautiful as his. His eyes reminded you of a pool of whiskey and shades of chestnut. When the light flashed, a honey, caramel tint soaked his orbs. Simply calling them ‘brown’ eyes did no justice.

Your voice brought a large smile to George’s lips like he won the lottery. The glistening gleam brighten the dim corner of the library. You could feel your breathing become inconsistent once again at the sight. Nodding his head, you watched with a smile as his sandy, ginger hair danced in tune.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Does uh, does that mean you like me too?”

Leaning back in your seat, you started to think back on all your years at Hogwarts. There wasn’t an exact moment you fell for him- it didn’t happen all at once. It was born as a crush, your heart leaping at the sight of the handsome boy your first year. When you started hanging out with the twins, you immediately grew close with them by the third week. Since then, you only got closer with the twins although it was undeniable that there was always a more intense gravitational pull you felt towards George. Not that Fred hadn’t pointed out the obvious connection between his twin and you numerous times. He enjoyed harassing George and yourself a bit too much.

Shrugging your shoulder in uncertainty, you admitted,

“Honestly it’s been so long I can’t remember when I first started liking you. I mean I’ve had a crush on you since first year and… I’ve always found you to be the funniest, most handsome guy I’ve ever met.” You paused your word vomit to take in George’s expression for a sign. Glancing up, you noticed he was far closer to you than he was before. The tip of his nose faintly brushing against your own. Your eyes enlarged in seconds at the lack of space between you two. “What’re you doing?”

A gulp echoed through George. His teeth dug into the skin of his bottom lip, tugging at the skin in an attempt to calm his nerves. You viewed in curiosity as his eyes darted from your lips, to your eyes, then to the floor, then back to your lips again. Your suspicions were confirmed as George locked his peer into your own. His face read seriousness as he asked you gravely,

“Are you going to slap me if I kiss you? I’ve seen you knock the daylights out of Fred for trying to. Mum says you need to take a girl out before you kiss ‘em for real so I wanna do it somewhat right. Y’know, be a gentleman and such.” 

Your cheeks flared red instantly, eyes planted to the floor. George had always been sweet but you never expected him to be this sweet. There was nothing more in the world that you desired than finally getting to kiss George Weasley, but it was an incredible kind of him to take your own feelings into thought before acting. You pressed your lips together tightly, exceeding all your effort into suppressing the bashful smile threatening to breakthrough. It took everything inside to contain your excitement and nerves at his proposal.

George broke your messy train of thought as the sensation of his hand against your skin registered. His slim fingers brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear, then wrapped around the side of your cheek. Like two magnets matching up, you melted into his touch. Finally drawing your gaze back up, you placed the palm of your hand against George’s chest, grasping a light fist of his sweater for stability. The height difference wasn’t immense, but enough that you needed some sort of control to keep on your feet.

“How proper of you, Mr. Weasley. Yes, I would really like that.”

Leaning into his hand, you met George’s gaze as you slowly moved towards each other. Meeting in the middle, you were nearly knocked off your feet by the force of his embrace. Your lips connected like a perfectly mapped constellation. His kiss was warm and fulfilling, yet constantly left you wanting more. It was undeniable he had practice before, his lips moved far too calm for this to be his first.

You practically melted in his arms, kissing him softly. Your lips danced for a moment until you steadied your hand on his cheek, holding his face. You needed that sense of control, wanted to feel the hold you had under George. Taking the first leap, you dragged your wet tongue along the smoothness of his bottom lip. A tiny, almost inaudible groan fell from his mouth. You deepended the embrace momentarily, then pulled away to press one lasting kiss to his puckered lips. George giggled in reaction, a cherry red blush painting his cheeks.

“You’re adorable.” George ‘booped’ the tip of your nose when he finished speaking. You laughed at his action then extending your finger, you placed a similar tap to his nose and teased him,

“Stop talking about yourself, George.” Although before you could fully retreat your hand, George’s own wrapped around your fingers. In one swift motion he lifted your hand to his face, then pressed his lips to the back of your hand. As he raised his head, his arm was quick to wrap around your shoulder, jerking your chair towards George as a result. His fingers clutched your upper arm loving. 

That smug smile was plastered across his face again, pleasantly pleased with the peach glow tinting your cheeks. Feeling the heat rising you dove to cover your cheeks in the sleeves of his sweater. George accepted your full embrace, arms moving to circle your body entirely. Suddenly a light bulb popped in his mind as he released his grip slightly to glance down at you.

“Maybe if I help you with some of your paper tonight, we’ll have more time for our date tomorrow!” The excitement in his voice was by far the sweetest sound you’d heard. You smiled back at him and nodded in agreement.

“Sure but I do the writing- I don’t trust you enough for that. Your handwriting resembles that of a child.” You laughed at your own jab while George gave you a deadpan look, clearly unable to form a comeback. He’d say so himself that his print was what the Muggles would call ‘chicken scratch’, a phrase you taught George. When George first learned to write with a quill and ink, he had a tendency to smear the ink a smudge as he scribbled away faster than the speed of light. Molly would scold George as the side of his hand would be stained a deep black shade and his paper was hardly legible.

“Rude but, understandable.” George commented. It was sweet of him, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he truly wanted to spend his Friday night stuck in the library. Raising your eyebrow to the boy, you gave him a questionable look.

“Wait, don’t you have a party you should be getting back to?” Arm still enclosed around your frame, George gave you a squeeze. A mischievous smirk now covered his lips as he confessed the truth. 

“What do you mean? I only threw that party with Fred so I could spend the night around you- maybe impress you with my wicked dance moves.”

Giving him a pointed look, your chest erupted with a fit of giggles. A memory popped into your mind of the first time you got the chance to view a drunk George Weasley putting on a ‘show’ for you. Sober George was a decent dancer but drunk George was on a different level of skill. The liquid courage had left George regretting a lot of nights and quite a bit of scenarios that came as a result. 

Although dancing drunk with you was never a regret of his. Especially when the two of you went to the Yule Ball together as ‘friends’. Mummers followed your every move as you waltzed with George, students gossiping about George and yourself. Not that you paid attention to anyone but George- there wasn’t a chance given to! You didn’t spend a single second resting on your feet as George had you dancing until the band was packing up. He spun, twisted, lifted, and twirling you all night long. When a slow song finally came on, the prankster king put his gentleman side on full display. It was by far one of the best nights of your life, one you still had yet to stop daydreaming over. Poking his side, you smirked teasingly at the boy.

“Georgie, darling, I’ve seen them before. You’d have a better chance sending yourself to the infirmary than impressing me with your ‘moves’. I haven’t forgotten the Yule Ball last year. My head was spinning for a month!” You laughed together at the reminiscence. George was just as mesmerized by the night as you, maybe a tad more so. For those few hours of pure bliss, George had never felt more complete. Seeing you all dressed up and glowing from head to toe- the image was captured in his mind forever. He never understood the term ‘speechless’ until he saw you walking down the stairs in search of him. He replayed that moment over and over again for a year now. Rubbing your shoulders lovingly, George leaned his head on top of yours.

“Aw, c’mon! You loved it! Twirling around like a beautiful ballerina in your dress. You looked breathtaking- everyone was staring at you. Can’t blame them, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you either.” His words made your insides feel fuzzy, kinda like the sleeve of his sweater. That of which your fingers were absentmindedly petting. George smiled down at the quirk, he loved every antic of yours.

Shaking your head, you pulled the book back that George had discarded. After all, you still had a stack of unwritten essays to get working on. You popped open the top of the ink container. George unraveled his arm from your shoulder to wrap lightly around your waist.

“Stop making me blush.” Crimson flooded your s/c cheeks, far too flustered to meet George’s eyes. That confidence from early had flown away just as sudden as it came. A sprout of warmth came as George’s finger pressed against the side of your jaw, turning your face. Sweetly, and silently, he requested your gaze to which you obliged.

“But you look so beautiful when you do, darling. Now stop distracting me- we have a paper to write, in case you’ve forgotten, love.” His lips darted forward and soon enough, his enticing lips kissed your reddening cheeks. George smirked teasingly, reaching the feathered quill out to brush against your nose. You lightly smacked it away, giggling at him as you did.

“You’re the one distracting me-” The squeal was silenced by George as he pretended to ignore your words as he continued to tease you. Pressing his finger against your lips, George purred,

“Hush, we’ve got work to do so I can take you out tomorrow, love.”

“Fine but don’t forget Georgie, I’m doing the writing.” Narrowing your playful glare, you spoke sternly. It was a sort of game you played- going back and forth with one another. Although finally that teasing crossed the line of flirting to something real. In a way, it almost felt fake. Like all those years of waiting hadn’t really paid off, you were just asleep in your dorm room, dreaming this all up.

The touch of George’s arm leaving your waist cold was enough to question; however the radiating sensation of his hand slipping into yours was confirmation it was real. The chaste kiss he left on the back on your hand still buzzed. Despite the lack of lighting, every handsome feature was distinct from his blazing locks to the scatter of freckles dotting his face. Giving you a sly wink George flirted,

“Ah, I love a woman who takes control.”

For the next hour and a half, far in the corner, behind rows of bookshelves and torches to light to way, George and yourself attempted to write your essay. The first hour consisted of stolen kisses, stolen looks, and George constantly stealing your book from your hands. He made it nearly impossible to the point you threatened to cancel your study date, which shaped him up immediately. 

The last half and hour George read to you different pages from your stack of books until you got a good jump on the paper. You were feeling hopeful until Madam Pince had announced the library would be closing for the night. In a matter of seconds, George’s hand was clamped around your wrist, attempting to drag you out. You managed to scoop your school supplies together and tuck them away in your bag before allowing him to escort you back to the common room. You just hoped your study date tomorrow would consist of some actual study. If not, it’s a good thing you have all of Sunday.

[searchingwardrobes]

Self-Promo Sunday

This story has never been posted to tumblr before, but it’s still to this day my most popular one shot on Ao3 (by both hits and kudos). I still can hardly believe it because when I wrote it, I honestly didn’t think anyone would even read it, much less like it. There are certain expectations for one-night stand fics, and this fulfills none of them. Mainly, there’s no smut. I just loved the concept and had to write it, then was beyond thrilled that other people liked it too!

Summary: Ruby convinces Emma that the best way to finish off her birthday celebration is a one-night stand with the hot British guy at the bar. But, as usual, things never go as Emma plans.

Rating: T

Words: 4k and some change

Also on Ao3

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People talk about having a voice on either shoulder. Emma Swan has three. In the form of her three best friends. Ruby sees everything through the lens of fun. If it feels good do it, que-sera-sera and all of that. Sometimes Ruby helps Emma get perspective and lighten up. Other times she just gets her into trouble. Then there’s Mary Margaret, the hopeless romantic who thinks that out there somewhere is Emma’s true love, and once fate leads her to him, Emma’s life will just fall into place. Like what Mary Margaret has with David. Mary Margaret’s voice is usually the easiest for Emma to ignore. She stopped believing in fairy tale endings a long time ago. And then there’s Elsa, the practical one. She also just gets Emma because where Emma’s been called prickly, Elsa’s been called cold, so she understands Emma’s walls. But she also cuts to the chase and isn’t afraid to call Emma out on her crap. The only problem is when the words coming out of Elsa’s mouth sound like psycho-babble. So Emma’s constantly got three differing opinions chirping in her ear. Even when they aren’t present because she knows in every situation what each of them would say.

All three of them agreed, however, on the best way for Emma to spend her 28th birthday. So she left Henry with Granny and the four of them headed to New York. After a day of shopping and a Broadway show, they’re now in the hotel bar, and Ruby thinks the perfect way for Emma to cap off the day is with a no-strings attached night of passion with a good-looking guy.

“The last thing someone with Emma’s intimacy issues needs is casual sex, Ruby.”

That was cerebral Elsa, of course.

“Although,” puts in Mary Margaret, “striking up a conversation with someone wouldn’t be such a bad idea. You never know where it might lead.”

“Where could it possibly lead?” argues Elsa. “We’re on vacation. In a different state.”

“Why does it have to lead anywhere?” Ruby asks with a shrug, “I’m just trying to find a guy for her to bang. When was the last time you had sex anyway, Emma?”

Mary Margaret’s and Elsa’s pale cheeks both turn ten shades of red. Elsa is blunt but never crass, and Mary Margaret’s never known any man but David, high school sweethearts and all. Ruby does have a point, however, it’s been . . . well, Henry’s three, so let’s just say it’s been awhile.

“Besides,” Ruby continues, “if you don’t drag that guy over there upstairs, I will. I mean, damn, would you look at him?”

All three of them follow Ruby’s gaze to the bar, not really expecting to be blown away because, honestly, Ruby didn’t get the title man-eater for nothing. But then Emma sees the guy, and – hot damn! – Ruby was right. It’s been awhile since Emma’s jaw has dropped just looking at a guy, but it’s happening now.

“Whoa,” is all Mary Margaret can say. And that’s actually a lot. She usually only has eyes for David.

“I bet he’s an actor on a soap opera,” Ruby giggles, “with a pretty face like that?”

“I wouldn’t call him pretty,” Emma says hoarsely. He exudes too much raw masculinity to be called pretty, not to mention the scruff on his face that gives him an edge of mystery.

“I agree with Emma,” Elsa agrees, “I would guess he’s a musician. Look at those tight jeans and that leather jacket.”

“Oh, I’m looking alright,” Ruby purrs.

The guy glances their way (because he feels their eyes boring into him, most likely), and they all hurriedly look away, except for Ruby who grins wolfishly at him and wiggles her fingers in greeting. But the glance was enough for Emma to see how bright blue his eyes are.

“God, Emma, did you see those eyes?” Ruby asks as she continues to ogle the guy. She smoothes out her skirt and moves to stand. “I’m not letting that man candy go to waste, Emma.”

Emma clamps her hand down on Ruby’s arm. “Now wait just one second. He’s mine.”

Ruby smirks at her in triumph while Mary Margaret encourages her to talk to him and get to know him while Elsa keeps admonishing that the whole thing’s a bad idea. Emma knocks back one more shot, but not to get her tipsy. She needs to have her faculties to read the guy; she’s not stupid. She just needs a shot of liquid courage. Because Ruby’s right – it’s been awhile.

The guy’s not stupid either, he glances over her shoulder when Emma approaches him. He knows full well they were checking him out. But his eyes also rake over her approvingly, and it’s plain as day he’s happy that she approached him. When he opens his mouth, a British accent comes out. The next chance she gets, she glances back over at Ruby and mouths, “Oh. My. God.” Then she composes herself, smooths out her hair, and dials up the flirting. Their banter is laced with innuendo and contains absolutely no personal content, which is exactly how Emma likes her one night stands. It only takes one more drink for him to have her pressed against the wall in the elevator. God, he’s a good kisser!

They giggle and stumble down the hall to Emma’s room, unable to keep their hands off each other. The door has barely shut behind them when he has her on the bed, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

Emma doesn’t know exactly what happens. One minute she’s moaning as he kisses along her décolletage, and the next he’s sliding the zipper down the side of her too-tight dress and the action is like a bucket of cold water being dumped on her. He gasps and pulls away from her, feeling it too. They both look at each other with wide, panicked eyes and then speak simultaneously.

“I can’t do this.”

“I can’t do this.”

He groans and rolls over onto the bed, flinging his arm across his face. They’re both lying there panting as their heart rates work to get back to a normal rhythm. When they speak again, it’s at the exact same time.

“I have a son.”

“I have a daughter.”

And then they’re both laughing at the absurdity of the situation. They both roll over to face each other, and Emma realizes neither of them are as drunk as they had been pretending to be. Emma props her head on her hand.

“I used to do this all the time. But then I had Henry, and well . . .he’s three.”

He smiles back at her in understanding. “I used to do this all the time, too. But then I met my wife, and then she died, and now it’s just me and Haley . . . she’s five.”

He stares at her for a moment, then sighs and stands up. “Well, I’ll be going then.” He says it in such a sad, resigned voice that it breaks Emma’s heart a little. He picks his jacket up off the floor where Emma had pushed it off his shoulders. But before he can put it back on and walk out the door, Emma grabs his hand. She’s hearing Mary Margaret in her head. You understand each other! That’s got to mean something.

“You don’t have to go,” she tells him. “We could watch TV, get room service.” Emma bites her lip, nervous she’s pushed too far.

“Seriously? Because usually when I mention my dead wife and my daughter, women are halfway out the door.”

Emma shrugs and gives him a smile, “Men usually do the same when I mention my son. Please stay. I want you to.”

“Okay then,” he says, smiling so brightly she can now see he has dimples. He tosses his jacket on the back of a chair. “My name’s Killian, by the way. Killian Jones.”

“Emma Swan.”

*************************************************************

Emma wakes up the next morning in Killian’s arms, but not because they changed their minds about the sex. They’re both still fully clothed. Okay, maybe not fully. Killian’s in only his boxers and his white v-necked undershirt, and Emma is in a t-shirt and yoga pants. Still, they only did two things last night – well, three if you count eating way too much candy from the mini-bar, and sex wasn’t one of them.

The first was just talk; they never did turn on the TV. Emma would have kicked him out or tackled him in exchange for mindless sex instead if it hadn’t been for Elsa’s practical voice in her head. This is good, Emma. This is healthy. Amazingly, she told him all about her years growing up in foster care. Far more than she had ever told anyone else. But it’s because Killian, it turns out, is an orphan too and has his own tragic stories to tell. At age 13 his brother Liam became old enough to be his guardian, and then he had some semblance of a family.

She tells him how she started sleeping around at fifteen, craving intimacy while fearing it at the same time. She admits that she has no idea who Henry’s father is; even if she could narrow down the guy, she wouldn’t know his name. Her eyes drop to the mattress at that, but Killian tilts her chin up to look at him. She sees in his eyes that he understands.

He tells Emma how he idolized his brother. So much so that he followed him into the Navy, only to lose him. It’s then that he went off the deep end with liquor and women. He was in a band, too, so one-night stands had been easy to come by. Milah, his wife, owned a pub where his band played frequently. Even though she watched him go home with different women every night, she still fell madly in love with him, and he with her. When Milah got pregnant, he gave up the band, but they were so blissfully happy. Haley was only a year old when Milah got sick – stage five breast cancer. Six months later, Milah was gone and Killian was alone with an 18 month old baby.

“Haley’s my whole world,” he tells her then, and Emma looks up at him with tenderness in her eyes.

“And Henry is mine.”

Killian leans down and kisses her then, and it’s the most tender kiss Emma has ever known.

So here they are, morning, and Emma is curled up against him, her head on his chest. She thinks he’s still asleep until his hand starts rubbing her arm. Killian’s touch has heat that lights her on fire from the inside, which reminds her of the other thing they did last night: make out like a couple of teenagers. Even though he can’t see her face right now, she blushes as she remembers the moans just light petting had elicited from her. It’s then that reality hits Emma like a Mac truck: what they shared last night was far more intimate than mere sex would have been. She can hear Elsa’s voice in her head: Queue the panic. And sure enough, it comes. Emma takes a few deep breaths before slipping as calmly as she can from his embrace. He’s leaving for London this morning. She’s leaving for Storybrooke. It’s not like this can go anywhere, but she still doesn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Hey,” he says sleepily, grabbing her hand as she eases from the bed, “how about some breakfast.”

“Oh, um, I’m actually meeting my friends for breakfast,” Emma explains as she shrugs into a hoodie. She stands there regarding him awkwardly, tucking her hair behind her ears and crossing her arms across her chest. It isn’t a lie; she really is supposed to meet the others at nine before driving back to Storybrooke.

“Okay,” Killian replies easily as he stands and pulls his jeans back on. He then reaches for the hotel pad of paper and pen on the bedside table and jots something down on it. He rips off the top sheet and hands it to her.

“My contact information,” he explains with a lopsided grin. His gaze is both gentle and sincere as he continues in a softer voice, “I really like you, Emma. Since we didn’t do anything stupid, I’m hoping we can stay in touch. I mean, this wasn’t just a one-time thing. Not for me, at least.”

Emma gives him a tentative smile as she takes the piece of paper and crams it unceremoniously into the pocket of her hoodie. Killian’s gaze follows her movement, and the light in his eyes dims.

“Well,” he says, scratching behind his ear, “I’ll take my leave, then.”

He shrugs into his shirt without buttoning it up, then heads for the door with his jacket and shoes still in his hand. Emma lets her head fall backward in frustration at herself.

“Killian, wait,” Emma calls after him.

He turns in the doorway, and Emma just stands there, unsure of what exactly she can say. Finally, when he raises his eyebrows at her in confusion, she decides that if she’s never going to see him again, at least she can get one last kiss. So she grabs the gaping lapels of his unbuttoned shirt and hauls him in. He gasps in shock at first, dropping his jacket and shoes with a thud. But he quickly catches up, kissing her back thoroughly until both their lips are swollen. She thinks again that he’s the most fantastic kisser she’s ever met.

When they finally part, breathless, Killian rests his forehead against hers and thumbs the dimple in her chin. “I could fall in love with you, Emma Swan,” he whispers, his eyes still closed. He opens them before Emma can look away and she feels as if she’ll drown in the deep blue of those eyes. He traces her cheek with his fingertips, “But you won’t let me, will you? You’re going to throw away my contact information, aren’t you?”

Killian’s hand drops away and he sighs as Emma remains silent. He bends to retrieve his things, and with a whispered good-bye, walks away from her door.

“I could fall in love with you too, Killian,” she whispers to his retreating form.

But she doubts he heard her.

********************************************************

“So he spent the night in your room – the entire night – but you didn’t sleep with him?” Ruby hisses across the table, half-eaten bagel still in her hand.

“Well, technically, we slept,” Emma responds wryly.

“But no sex? Seriously?” Ruby tears a piece from her bagel violently, but pauses before putting the piece in her mouth as a revelation seems to hit her, “Wait, is he gay?”

“No, he is definitely not gay,” Emma states emphatically, feeling infantile when she blushes.

“So what did you do all night?” Ruby asks incredulously.

“We talked mostly,” Emma says with a shrug, “and . . . other things.”

“What other things?” Elsa asks.

“God, Elsa,” Emma says with a roll of her eyes, “do I have to spell it out for you? We made out.”

Ruby reaches for the collar of Emma’s button-down flannel shirt, exposing the black and blue mark on her neck. “A hickey!” Ruby exults, “He gave her a hickey!”

“Quiet down, Rubes,” Emma hisses as she re-adjusts her collar, “what is this, high school?”

“So what did you guys talk about?” Mary Margaret asks eagerly. Only she would be more interested in the conversation.

Emma shrugs again as she spreads jam on a piece of toast, “You know, just stuff. Our childhoods. Our kids. We talked a lot about our kids.”

“He has kids?” asks Ruby with a wrinkled nose.

“Yes, Ruby,” Emma snaps, “kids. Which is probably why we thought twice about having sex with someone we just met.”

Ruby’s eyes grow large, “How many does he have?”

Emma drops her knife with a clatter, frustrated at Ruby’s inquisition, “Just one. A five year old daughter. His wife died three and a half years ago of cancer.”

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret breathes, “he sounds wonderful! And it’s so romantic that you stayed up all night just kissing and talking. What a gentleman! I hope you’ll stay in touch.”

Emma shakes her head, “He wanted to. Gave me his information. But I threw it away.”

Mary Margaret gasps in shock, and even Ruby thinks she’s crazy, but Elsa is the cold voice of reason.

“I think Emma is wise to break it off now. He’s a grieving widower with a child. Emma has a child of her own. Not to mention that long-distance relationships never work.”

“What was he doing in New York?” Mary Margaret asks, ignoring Elsa’s cold logic.

“A job interview,” Emma answers, “he didn’t really get into the details.”

“See,” Mary Margaret tells Elsa smugly.

“See what?” Elsa scoffs with a roll of her eyes. “It’s still long-distance. Emma needs to use her head.”

“She needs to follow her heart,” argues Mary Margaret.

“I was thinking of an organ a little farther south,” quips Ruby.

“And I would appreciate you all dropping the entire subject,” Emma huffs in frustration.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret whispers urgently, “there he is!”

Emma glances behind her, and sure enough, Killian is sitting at a table on the other side of the room. He’s perusing the menu, so he hasn’t noticed her yet. Emma quickly turns back around.

“Yep,” Ruby says with a nod, “just as hot as I remembered.”

Elsa narrows her eyes as she takes him in, “Actually, Emma, on second thought, maybe using your head in this situation isn’t the best course of action.”

Mary Margaret nudges Emma’s arm, “Go on, go talk to him. Give him your number!”

Emma stands quickly, hands shaking, and tosses some bills onto the table. “That should cover my order. I’ll see you all in Storybrooke.”

Emma then walks as quickly as she can for the hotel exit, ignoring her friends protests. She purposely keeps her head forward, not wanting to see the look of hurt in Killian’s eyes as she walks away. Or the look of indifference.

She isn’t sure which would be worse. Either way, it’s why she doesn’t turn around.

************************************************************

A week later, Emma is enjoying her favorite lunch of grilled cheese and onion rings at Granny’s. The buzz around town is that Mayor Mills finally hired a new harbor master, and whoever it is just rolled into town in a black extended cab truck with just a few suitcases and boxes in the back. The type of vehicle combined with the small amount of personal effects has every single woman in town speculating that it’s a bachelor. Emma just rolls her eyes at the gossip. The only thing she cares about is how the harbor master does his or her job, since it directly affects hers as sheriff.

Emma is licking the last drop of cheese from her pinkie finger when a little girl scrambles onto the stool next to her. She’s wearing a tunic shirt covered in daisies over a pair of yellow leggings. Disney princess shoes adorn her feet, the kind that light up when you walk. She has to kneel on the stool so she can reach the counter.

“One chocolate milkshake please,” the little girl tells Granny in an adorable British accent.

Emma and Granny both raise their eyes, looking around the diner for the child’s parents. Emma catches Granny’s eye, and the older woman nods.

“You’re a little young to be ordering all by yourself,” Emma says gently, tipping her head so she can look the child in the eye. “How old are you, kid?”

“Would you believe ten?”

Emma suppresses a chuckle and shakes her head.

“Eight?” the child sighs as Emma once again shakes her head. “Okay, I’m five.”

Emma nods. She wants to get information, and she knows the best way to do that is to play it cool, “So where are your parents?”

The little girl sighs, bites her lip, and then leans closer to Emma, “Okay, see, my dad said we would come here for lunch today. I want a milkshake, but Dad always says no. That I have to eat my lunch first. But I don’t want lunch. Can’t the milkshake be my lunch?”

"So you got here early so you could have the milkshake before he saw you.”

The little girl’s face brightens, and when she smiles dimples appear on her freckled cheeks. “Exactly!”

Emma leans forward, “The problem is, I’m a mom, so I’m not going to let you either.”

The little girl scowls and crosses her arms, “But you’re not my mum.”

“But you do need money, kid,” Granny tells the child gruffly.

The little girl swivels on her stool to face Granny, reaching smugly into the pocket of her tunic. She pulls out a ten dollar bill with a flourish and smacks it down onto the counter. “Will that cover it?”

Emma’s hand flies to her mouth as she suppresses her laughter. This kid is the most precocious, sassy little thing she’s ever seen. Once Emma has composed herself, she leans over the counter towards the child and speaks to her sternly. “You know what else I am besides a mom, kid? The sheriff of this town.” The little girl’s eyes grow large. “Where did you get that money?”

The child quirks one dark eyebrow and tilts her chin defiantly. “My allowance.”

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, kid. I have this gift – we’ll call it a super power – I can tell when people are lying to me. So I’ll ask you again. Where’d you get the money?”

The little girl sighs and lowers her head, “My dad’s wallet.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Haley.”

Emma feels as if the room is suddenly spinning. She blinks and looks the little girl over. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, British accent. It couldn’t be . . .

“Haley Elizabeth Jones!” another British voice calls out from the door of the diner. Emma’s jaw drops as Killian Jones himself rushes towards her. But he doesn’t even see Emma, too intent on his little girl who he hugs tightly to his chest. “Bloody hell, lass, you just took ten years off my life! Never, never, wander away like that!”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Haley mumbles against Killian’s neck as she throws her little arms around him. Killian pulls away and looks her over, running a hand over his little girl’s hair and over her shoulder as if she might be hurt. Haley sheepishly takes the ten dollar bill and hands it to him. “I took the money from your wallet, too. I’m sorry. The sheriff lady caught me.”

Killian finally turns towards Emma then and blinks rapidly as if he’s seen a ghost. “Swan?”

“Killian,” Emma breathes, her hand fluttering to the pale mark still on her neck. The way they’re grinning at each other like idiots and blushing like fools, you would think they had actually had sex. “What are you – what are you doing here?”

“I got the job,” he explains, “the one I was telling you about.”

“You mean, you’re the new harbor master?” Killian nods and Emma shakes her head in confusion. “But your interview was in New York.”

“Mayor Mills had some business there anyway, and she thought travel would be easier for me from London. I thought the change would be good for Haley. Living in a small town and all.”

They just stand there staring at each other until Haley pipes up. “The sheriff says she’s a mum too, Daddy,” Haley takes Emma’s hands in hers and looks at them intently. “But she doesn’t have a wedding ring. Are you married, sheriff lady?”

“No, sweetie,” Emma says with a mirthful smile, “I’m not married.”

“That’s great! My daddy isn’t married either, and I need a mum!”

“Okaaaay,” Killian chuckles nervously as he scoops Haley up into his arms. He turns to Emma blushing furiously, “I’m gonna get this lass home. And then I’m gonna dig myself a really deep hole and crawl into it.”

He scratches behind his ear with his free hand as he turns towards the door, still carrying Haley. Mary Margaret’s voice is suddenly in Emma’s head, chirping on about fate and destiny, which propels Emma off her stool.

“Killian, wait.”

He turns towards her, that lopsided grin of his on his face.

“I know how it is unpacking. I was thinking Henry and I could stop by later with a couple of pizzas.”

“I appreciate that, Ms. Swan. That’s very hospitable of you.”

Okay, she’s going to have to be far more direct. “I was hoping Henry and I could eat with the two of you. We could consider it our second unconventional date.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile widens. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling back, “this thing we started; may as well see where it goes, right?”

Hope sparkles in Killian’s eyes. “Right. See you tonight, Swan.”

Behind the counter, Granny can’t hold her laughter back any longer when Haley pumps her little fist into the air and crows, “YES! I’m getting a mum!”

It turns out the little girl was right. Eight months later, Haley Jones has a mum and Henry Swan Jones has a dad. Turns out Mary Margaret was right all along: there’s nothing hopeless about being a romantic.

[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 014

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Thanks for waiting!! Billy & Evie have a quiet morning after the party. Start to face the reality of what they have. Friends reconnect. Enjoy the chapter!! TW: Brock's aggressive drunk behavior. Flashes of past trauma and Pica mentions. Some heavy petting.

Chapter 14: Such Sweet Sorrow

   Evie finally had him.

   For the first time, she was the one gone from the bed as Billy opened his eyes.

   One hand felt for her and touched the wall. Dead air where the warmth used to be. Frowned because he wasn't able to bury his nose in endless brown curls to inhale sweet amber.

   Billy surged up and heard the shower running. Evie singing unabashedly over it like no one was in the house. Something he couldn’t place on the rock and blues end. Bigger than he was used to hearing from her. Sultry even. Lungs vibrating to handle the smooth sound that was ever-growing.

   “Ah oh, smokestack lightnin…” She echoed out against the rush of water. "Oh..."

   Billy pictured her hips swaying about as she washed her hair. Suds and curls slick over her shoulders. Smoke fogging. Huge notes he didn’t know she could handle. 

  "Whoa-oh, tell me, baby..."

   Fuck, he was hard.

   "Where did ya stay last night?"

   A heave followed before he got out of bed. Aching.

   "Why don't ya hear me cryin'?"

   Trying not to picture her body slick against his under the pounding of hot water. Droplets falling over her lips and eyelashes. The notes she reverberated that sounded like moans. Fingers digging into warm flesh.

   Billy had to stop it for his own sanity. Three pounds on the door had her skidding against a bath mat.

   Record scratch.

   “What!” Evie blushed deep maroon because the show was not for him.

   “Play me some Def Leppard, Angel!” Billy echoed back. “Also, I gotta take a leak.” It was satisfying to hear the loud huff follow.

   “My mom’s bathroom is free in her bedroom.”

   “Yeah, I try to avoid parent’s personal rooms when I’m at a girl’s house. If you can believe it.”

   “I don’t. But, I won't dare ask why. I’m just finishing up...and I’m not your personal jukebox!” Evie tilted her head back under the spray. 

   “We’ll see about that, let me in there to press some buttons. I'm a pro.” Billy got lower and playfully jiggled the handle as the water shut off. Both of them acting their usual combative selves with each other. 

   “Keep dreaming, William.” Sarcasm made him feel right at home.

   “Believe me, I will, Evangeline.” Billy stepped out when the door opened. Steam followed Evie scrunching her curls into a towel. Covered in a deep purple bathrobe that drowned her dewy body. Clean and still blushing, tying it tighter at the sight of him there looking positively messy and stunning.

   Ocean eyes sparked without shame.

   “Look at you all glowing and wet. Are you...double knotting that because I’m here?” He teased, getting close so one finger could creep under the tie. A tug had Evie's body flush into his. Heat radiating. Damp ringlets dripping down.

   “Yes.” The reply was instant. “I’m Billy-proofed now.”

   “You couldn’t Billy-proof yourself if you tried.” Towering, her slunk in toward Evie’s unamused expression. Earned himself a wet hair towel tossed over his head. Cackles erupted. 

   “All yours.” Evie hurried around him and shut her bedroom door to get changed. Threw a plain skirt on to tuck a shirt into it. No plans to leave the house or see Heather.

   Heather.

   Evie eyed her bookcase of treats. Plucked up a gemstone and didn’t want anything else. Wanted to struggle and feel it force down. All the random pangs in her stomach. It gnawed. She thought of choking. Of Billy finding her. 

   Slowly, she tapped it back down. Tried to just breathe through it before knuckles rapped the door again.

   “You have my pants.” Came the voice. Evie broke to laugh. 

   “Yeah, yeah.” She clicked the lock and let him in. No makeup and damp curls cascading all over her shoulders. “I’m starving. Breakfast? I can make...toast sorta.”

   “That tone really convinces me. I saw a perfectly good waffle iron in there.” Billy rubbed his shoulder and caught her looking again. A beat before he explained. “Dad had an empty bottle in his hand when he swung. Busted the damn thing on me, okay? It’s ugly, don’t worry about it.”

   She gasped, steering toward him.

   “Did it cut you? He could have broken it on your head or-”

   “Lucky break.” Billy joked, rolling his arm a little before he passed her to snatch his jeans up and put them back on. “He missed my face. I can handle it. Just, let me worry about it, alright? I hate to see your eyes get all huge at me.” Blue yawned and hopped off the bed to follow him before Evie went too.

   “It frightens me more that you’re so...causal.” She spoke lighter, washing out Blue’s dishes to fill them. Meows followed and Billy softened.

   “I make a good breakfast, you want to help me out here?” Bright eyes flashed over his shoulder.

   “We’ve used this thing like once.” Evie chuckled. “Mix is above your head. I’ll get a bowl.” She clicked around to find one and set it out.

   “I don’t want to talk about my dad when I’m with you.” Billy decided, eyes on the window above the sink. He tried to numb. “Okay? Evie, I know you hear things. I need you to pretend you don’t. For me. Just...”

   Broad hands settled on the counter. Submissive. Vulnerable. He didn't turn to see her.

   “I’m allowed to worry still.” She pointed. “But, I’ll give you...space.”

   “Fair.” He seemed the type to leapfrog the subject either way. Evie didn't want him to run. So she just stared at the lines of his back shifting.

   Odd to see him so domestic. All velvet and sleepy. Making breakfast. Evie wondered about putting her arms around him. Kissing his cheek. Dragging him back into bed. Rolling around under cotton sheets.

   Her head shook. No. No. No.

   Billy loaded the hot iron with thick batter and clamped it shut. A hiss tapered off. The sound snapped her back.

   “Hope you’re taking notes.”

   “Definitely.” She chuckled. Figuring he spent a lot of time cooking for himself growing up. Evie stepped up next to him and licked her lips. Gathered the will to say it. “Hey, I, uh...like hanging out with you.”

   Billy’s brow rose. Sly while he bit his tongue. Head tilting to boast.

   “Getting all mushy on me, Angel. Look at you melting between my fingers.” He didn't know the half of it. Lashes batted at her so Evie rolled her eyes.

   “I regret saying it alrea-mmff. ” She had her chin cupped to angle it so their lips could collide. Palm sliding to her neck, a thumb drew a circle into flesh.

   Evie drew out.

   “Did you use my toothbrush? I taste mint.”

   “Just the mouthwash.” Billy laughed at her, pecking between words. “I’m not an animal.”

   “Debatable.” Evie’s hand went behind his neck to bring him back down. Tongue and teeth. Billy actually moaned. Pressed her back into the counter before she pulled out. “You’re gonna burn it.”

   “Shit.” Billy jerked away to save the first waffle just in time before adding another. “Only care so I can impress you.”

   “Sure.” Evie droned. They stood there in silence. Shared one space to make a warm breakfast. Peaceful and smelling of sweet batter. Warm and easy. Almost too easy. Eyes flicking to each other and away between steaming pulses.

   “Syrup.” Evie strained to reach it and Billy brought two plates to the table.

   “You gonna let me cook for you again?” He waited for her to take a bite. Humming blissfully.

   “Oh, my god,” Evie cut another piece. “Okay, I’ll give you this. You’re full of surprises, too. Billy Hargrove can cook. He writes stories he won’t share in school and still gets not half bad grades. And he’s the fucking Keg King.”

   “I think you finally find me interesting.” Billy folded a huge piece in half and swallowed whole. Syrup dripping from his lips to be licked.

   “Ugh, I-” They froze when the phone rang in Evie’s room. Frowning, she cut her food with more ire. Billy shot her a look between bites. “I already know it’s Heather.”

   “She’s gonna get to you eventually,” Billy noted, plate empty. Evie left a sliver out of habit and caught him eyeing it before she slid it to him wordlessly. Wondered what his eating habits at home were. He stabbed it with his fork and swallowed.

   “I know. I just,” Evie searched, “I can’t right now.” With some haste, she got up and took the plates away to wash them. Scrubbing harder than necessary as Billy came into the kitchen. Felt his eyes blare. “Hey, come over here.”

   Billy crossed to her at the sink. Watched Evie turn to grip the counter when he blatantly invaded her space. 

   “This close?” He winked.

   “Just,” Evie’s breath hitcher sharper as she stood tall to see his eyes, “don’t move for a second.”

   Fingertips drew up the hair on his forearms. The veins that pulsed. Danced over his collar gently, felt the heat of him through his tee. Billy just watched with his usual intensity. Evie avoided his eyes and touched him. Delicate caresses that rocked his soul apart. 

   One palm cupped the back of his head. Surged into bedhead curls. Eyes lifting to burn his. Billy gave this wanting, little sound. Leaned in for a taste, but she evaded him. Just to see his eyes cloud. Massaged his neck and pulled him down for a gentler kiss. Pushed her tongue out to taste him first. Sticky sweet maple. Earned another whine.

   Billy inhaled against her. Let Evie have some control and worked to earn it back. Made another breathy sound before he palmed her bottom. Grinding into Evie until he was picking her up to set her on the counter.

   A squeal caught up her throat. She felt his muscles bulge and strain but he did it like she was nothing. Shock etched before Evie was reeling out to dart her eyes all over his expression.

   “Told ya.” He chuckled, pressing in between Evie’s legs. Fingers tucked a blond curl aside before her voice stopped another oncoming kiss.

   “Are we just going to keep doing this until one of us cracks?”

   “Jesus Christ, Evie, we tongue fucked in the middle of the street. During a fight." Blue eyes glinted. "That was already the crack.”

   “I’m just thinking about...after.” She searched for more words and none came.

   “Too young to worry about the after.” Billy leaned back to see her. “I think you want to feel good now and…” He leaned in closer, fingers dancing down her front. “I wanna be the person making you feel good. Pretty simple. Crystal clear. Yes?”

   "Y-Yes." That hot iron hand slipped under her skirt. Billy ghosted their lips and heard Evie shiver at his touch. Sinful fingertips trailing up her inner thigh. Dangerously close. Admiring her unfurling.

   Too pretty when lust blushed her cheeks that obscene red. Full lips opened. No sound came. She sunk into him totally. Stunning.

   Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon.

   "I just don't think you've had the right people making you feel so good, Evie." Billy's voice dipped to a baritone that always turned her to putty. "And the things I'd like to do to you. Hm."

   Lips touched the shell of her ear. Left little kisses that lingered in a uniform trail. Arms tightened around him. Felt his finger draw up the hem of her panties. Readied to curl under the fabric.

   He leaned out for permission. For her to ask him for more because she wanted him just as bad. Billy had to hear her say it. The craving itched him deep in his stomach.

   Evie wiggled in place and then she heard it when they locked eyes again. The unmistakable click of baby pink platform heels. Never had the damn sound filled her with such dread.

   “Fuck.” They scrambled away from the counter. Lungs sputtering until Billy bumped into Evie in the dining room between the kitchen and living space. Craning to see the front door. Keys jiggled the lock. “My mother.” 

   “Hey!” Billy tripped as Evie pressed him out, both knowing they wouldn’t make it to her room.

   “Under the table, I’m not letting her find out about…” The word died. Us. Billy actually laughed on his way under the table, hiding within the embroidered cloth. Evie sprang to attention holding her breath as Mona burst in. Fighting to get her key out.

   “Evie!”

   “Mom…” Evie flashed a smile and tried not to look all blushed and guilty. Like she hadn't just had a boy's erection pressed into her thigh. Like she wasn't about to let Billy Hargrove fuck her on a counter after making her breakfast. “You’re home so early.”

   “Oh, well we had this disagreement down there and I just also couldn’t stand how we left things…” Mona was gesturing aimlessly and setting her bag on the sofa, turning to see Evie before she gasped out. “Baby, what happened to your face?”

   “Uh! I...slipped on the ice going down the steps. Really embarrassing.” Evie touched her brow.

   “Sweetheart,” Mona came to kiss the wounded eye socket all better, “did you ice it well? I should have something that'll cure that right up in my bag.” Manicured hands came to angle and see, tutting. “My poor thing.”

   “It’s fine, really. I was just…” Evie trailed off as Mona hugged her. Tight. “Mom, really I’m okay. What…What happened?”

   “Oh,” she sniffed and laughed it off, “sisters disagree on silly things. They still love each other. And I just kept thinking about you here. I missed my baby.” Mona patted her cheek and smelt the air. “Is that cologne? Did you throw any parties while I was gone?”

   “No, I did adopt a new kitten. She was...a gift from a friend. Blue.”

   “I’ll have to meet the little devil when she wanders out.” A smile flashed. “No parties though, you know I don’t mind a few friends over. Maybe...a nice boy.”

   “Mom.” Evie groaned.

   “Swear on Dolly, no parties though.” Mona joked, sharp talons flicking toward the blonde country queen's framed face.

   “I swear on Dolly. I...did try to make waffles. Craving.” Evie chuckled and slid into a seat at the table. Adjusted the tablecloth some.

   “They don’t smell burnt, I’m impressed.” Mona went to her bag. “Ah, well, I got us all kinds of fresh supplies. Powders and dust. Candles. Oils. Gris-gris. Plenty of sage for the house. And you can’t snoop around my bag because I got you some lovely items for your birthday, missy.”

   “Great,” Evie rubbed her temple and jabbed her sock-clad foot out when Billy’s fingers teased her leg, “listen, mom, about our fight-”

   “What fight?” Mona paused to blink at her daughter, setting new candles up on the shelves. “Oh, that little tiff. Sweetheart, your father and I are still working things out. I didn’t want to tell you because...the thing is…he doesn’t want to see us. In fact, he’s been sending that money to ease his own consciousness and, I won’t accept it. We don’t need him. We have each other, that's enough.”

   Evie wanted to fight her mother on it. Watching the woman click around and keep busy by force so she didn’t have to face those pesky emotions.

   This woman who was alive and who sang her songs and who brought cut up pieces of fruit into her daughter's room unprompted. Who made delicious meals and who loved and supported her, despite being overbearing. Despite not wanting to process the negative.

   Not everyone had a person who loved them that deeply, but Evie did. So, she just nodded.

   “No, you’re right.” Hands clasped. “I hope you had a nice time down there.”

   “Yes, it was just a full house and I missed you. That’s all.” Mona pressed her lips. “I like being back home.”

   “Me, too.” Evie gave Billy another light kick for being a handsy shit.

   “I’m going to get the rest of this stuff unpacked in my room and I might have a trip to the store. Never a lazy moment, honey. Do you need anything?”

   “Ah, I can’t think of any-” Evie hitched a gasp and covered it in a cough because Billy’s head slipped between her knees. “-thing!” They clamped shut to keep him in place. Mona blinked and gave her a shrug.

   “Alrighty, dear. Well, let’s say dinner tonight at six?”

   “Six is perfect!” Evie pressed her lips, ready to burst at the mouth on her inner thigh. Teeth nipped and she reached under the table to tug for curls.

   Mona flounced off to her room with the suitcase and Evie shoved out from the table the moment the door shut. Saw Billy's head perk, engulfed in the hanging cloth and looking too innocent.

   "Nice orange panties. Little lacy."

   She scowled at him. Lips touched her knee as an apology until Billy snickered and got pushed as he crawled out.

   “What? I figured you sat down so I-”

   “I was making sure you were covered, asshole.” Evie hissed. “C’mon, you cannot be here. My mom can’t know about us or...me with anyone, she’ll lose her mind.”

   “You mean, she’ll start ordering wedding cakes.” Billy snuck back to the bedroom with her. Realized she had him by the hand. Evie shut the door and put on music so he could grab the rest of his stuff. “Window?”

   “Probably best.” Evie fiddled with her fingers and peered down. Shuddered to let the molten heat subside fully. “Sorry.”

   “Not my first grand escape.” Billy got his jacket and boots on. Looked up from her bed and flashed a smile. “See you around?”

   “You might.” 

   “Swear on Dolly.”

   “Stuff it. Now shoo.” Evie clasped those fidgeting hands behind her as he pushed the window up to climb over it.

   Billy paused in the snowy grass when a palm covered his still gripping the edge. Blue eyes peered to see before lifting to her face, unable to read the expression or those huge, sparkling eyes that were ending him.

   Unable to stop himself.

   He craned to place his lips on her brow. A smile quirked and he had to face away from Evie for the first time. Something burst open and overcame him. Rendered Billy into a daze. Painted new iridescent colors he'd never seen before.

   Fingers curled together. Drawing the connection out even still because they couldn't look at each other. Something else might crack and neither would come back from it.

   “Why’d you do that?” Evie sounded out with no air.

   “I felt like it.” He shifted the toe of his boot into frozen slush to hear grass crunch.

   “Your lips are soft.” Evie peered aside. Butterflies landing within her stomach. For once, it didn't feel empty or like it was weighed down with jagged stones. “I meant what I said about going out. Me and you.”

   Me and you. Sounded so saccharine.

   “I was gonna hold you to it, don’t think I forgot.” Billy peeked to see her and they managed to share another beat.

   Whatever cracked seemed so worth it.

   Evie felt the cold seeping in around him and didn’t let his hand go. Didn't want to because he was letting her see him and touch him. Billy thought of when he was a little boy and his mother took him to see a play.

   Romeo and Juliet. Lovers on the balcony. It seemed silly up until this exact moment where she looked so exquisite.

   Billy longed to create stories with such a hold. Things that distracted from men who hit. Things he could project himself into so others could see inside his chest without it hurting.

   One truth became so clear. Evie didn't hurt.

   "Evie."

   "Yeah?"

   “Are you waiting for me to change on you?” He kept her gaze steady. Thought he saw her eyes well for one second.

   “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m waiting for these days. A charge maybe.”

   Billy looked amused, stretching toward her to settle their foreheads together. Tilting.

   “I’ve heard you sing, Angel, draw it yourself.” He came back. “And talk to Heather.” Billy slipped from her hand and it pained him. It actually collapsed something under his flesh. “Sad eyes are killing me.” He plucked for a cigarette to light up. "You might just kill me, you know that? And I'd let you."

   Evie was lost in him, too.

   “Billy.”

   “Hm?” He gave a sly turn and she bit her lip, picking up Blue when the needy kitten crawled to her for affection.

   “Promise me something.” She cocked her head, dark locks bouncing in the clear daylight. Billy curled a fuller smile at her.

   “Think I won’t do just about anything for you at this point?”

   “Just promise me you won’t change,” she said, “after.”

   “So you admit we’re happening?” He teased and Evie got flat. A finger drew along his chest. Eyes steady. “Cross my heart.”

   Evie shook her head with a smile and started to shut the window. Such sweet sorrow.

   “Hey, flash me for the road.” Billy got vulgar.

   Never mind!

   A huff before she smacked the window shut. Billy laughed on his way around the Hargrove house. Neil’s car was gone to work. Thankfully.

   Susan prepping a meal in the kitchen. Eyes lifted to see the boy still grinning to himself like he held a secret close to his heart.

   “I like that song.” She mused, chopping carrots and celery. Billy skidded to face her in the doorway.

   “Huh?”

   “That Irma Thomas one you were just humming.” A smile followed. "I played it on the cello once. When I was younger. Did you know that?"

   “No... Uh, must’ve been the TV playing it though.” Billy hurried to his room, passing Max with some headphones on so he made a point to flick them off for fun.

   "Jerk." A red scowl followed him as he ruffled her hair and went along. Blissfully uncaring. "Ugh."

   Not missing a beat, Susan went back to her prep. Considered the reality that her stepson was on the cusp of first love.

** ** **

   Evie mulled over her phone the next afternoon. Staring like it might come alive and solve all her problems. If only.

   Blue hopped up for some pets that were granted. Purring encouraged Evie to pluck up the receiver. Dialing before she smacked it down.

   “C’mon, just…” Evie winced and tried again. No answer. She ignored four calls the day before. Frowning, Evie settled the phone down and stood up with Blue. Heart falling.

   And then a ring. Evie didn’t wait for it to end.

   “Hello!” She blurted.

   “Evie!” Heather matched in enthusiasm.

   “...Hey,” Evie sank down holding the kitten to her chest.

   “Hi,” Heather lost what she was about to say and sighed, “can we maybe talk somewhere?”

   “I’d...I'd like that.” Evie searched, licking her lips.

   “I, ugh, went for a walk into town. Want to meet at our cafe?” Heather sounded out, breath spreading cold in the booth. “I’m on a payphone.”

   “Sure. I’ll be there in ten?”

   “Right...right, I’ll see you, I…” Heather welled. “I’m so sorry.”

   “Let’s just talk when I get there.” Evie sniffled. “I’m not mad anymore. It's stupid. It's not us.”

   “O-Okay, I’ll see you in a bit. I’ll order your favorite.”

   “Thanks, Heath. I’ll hurry.” Evie smacked the phone down and let Blue go to wander. “Mom, I’m going to meet Heather!” Hands yanked her boots and coat on.

   “Leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry tonight!” Mona came out fixing her hair in a cocktail dress. “I’m going to meet some friends. Be home later, don’t wait up for me.” Evie stared at the little silver dots decorating her mother’s dress. The sparkly earrings she was putting in. 

   It was clearly a date.

   “Sure.” Evie turned away to go into the cold, shutting the door behind her. Tried to pretend her mother wasn't another fifty logs on the fear of dating Billy Hargrove fire.

   Barely catching the bus at the end of the road, she made it to the opposite side of the main street in no time. Hands stuffed into her pockets while shoulders hitched at the rush of cold. Evie shivered and got to the crosswalk, eyes lifting to see the orange hues inside the little coffee shop. 

   Heather in the window checking her watch with two drinks steaming and ready. Eyes lifted and brightened upon seeing her friend there. A smile crossed before she perked to wave.

   Evie brought her gloved hand out to mirror it. Light as a feather. 

   A weight looped her wrist. Miraculous and dragging. Evie thought she might sink into concrete. A hand attached to a stumbling drunk.

   It was Tannen’s eyes that shook her. Full of vitriol and rage. Enough to poison anyone. The back of her tongue burned with it. Evie suddenly couldn’t speak there against a harsh rush of winter wind.

   “Fenny. Girl, I was just thinkin ‘bout you.” Tannen smiled all sloppy and he still looked so hateful.

   “Let me go, Brock.” Evie tugged back against him there at the crosswalk. 

   “Just wanna talk. Like we did in that closet. When we hid from the storm together. Was nice.” He made this odd sound. A scrape in the back of his throat. Evie realized he was crying. Unsure why it frightened her more. “Never told anyone else what we talked about, did you know that?”

   “You’re drunk, you need to go home.” Evie leveled out. If his emotions went any higher, they'd burst.

   “Evie!” Heather called across the street. Jogging over as Brock yanked her further along. Into his much taller body. “Hey!”

   “We’re just talking, Holloway, don’t get your thong in a twist.” Tannen pulled a flask from his pocket and gulped, spilling sour alcohol on them both. Evie wrinkled her nose and really began to fight because he was yanking her toward his shiny new car. Already a dent in the side.

   "Get your damn hands off her!"

   "Maybe when I'm finished!" He craned toward the other girl.

   “Let go of her,” Heather grasped for Evie’s arm, “you need help.”

   This manic smile crossed his face.

   “It’s why I’m talking to Fenny, here. She’s just s-so fucking helpful. Pretty pillow for the world to land all its shit on. Aren’t you, girl?” He dropped his flask into the top-down car and pinched Evie’s cheek, got smacked off as she struggled. “Just understands shit. So, we’re gonna go somewhere and talk like we did that night. Think about it too much and you fucked me up. You're gonna fix it.”

   Muscles burst when he plucked Evie up by her elbows and carelessly threw her into the backseat over the door.

   “Stop it!” Evie scrambled up to crawl out as he pushed Heather around. “Just stop.” She got out so he went for her again. Playfully hugging her into his chest. Brutally intoxicated. No one walking the streets to help at the late hour.

   As if they'd try. Fucking people in this town. Minding their business when actual shit goes down but running for the dirty gossip.

   “You were right, girl, everything you said. Fucking sucks. All of it. But, you knew that.” He went on, eyes watery. "All this shit. It's not worth it."

   That gouged her.

   “Brock, you need to let me go, right now.” Evie got wedged between him and the car. “You’re scaring me, do you understand that?” She dropped her voice. Got through to him. “I’m sorry, divorce is shit and parents can fucking suck. But, this isn’t going to make your life better. Destroying yourself and hurting others...just stop. You can stop.” Heather came to tug at him again and he seemed to flood back.

   Evie felt him loosen up so she slipped out and away.

   “You shouldn’t be driving.” She tried. Snatching his wrist to help and the hate poured out. Hot lava burning Evie before a shove sent her back into Heather's arms.

   “Not over,” he muttered to himself, skidding around to get into the car regardless, “not over. Fucking Hawkins trash. Sick of it. All of it.”

   “Brock, just-wait!” Evie felt Heather grip her wrist as he swerved off. “Fuck.”

   “He’s losing it.” Heather pulled again. “Are you okay?”

   “We should call the police, he could hurt someone...or himself.” She added, going to a payphone. “Do you have change?”

   “Yeah...yeah.” Heather fished through her little wallet and Evie smashed some buttons. A couple of snowflakes fell as she hurried to speak into the receiver. Sky darkening above. One sigh followed before she shrugged and set it down.

   “He already has a DUI, this won’t end well.” She rubbed her face. “He was crying.” Like Fredrick. Huge, wet tears hitting cool skin. Hands pulling for more of her to still them.

   They're sick and twisted and hateful and this part of Evie still wanted to nurture. To make it better because she couldn't make herself better.

   “Are you okay, though?” Heather asked again, sweet as pie when she smoothed a snowflake from Evie’s cheek before it could melt away. Brown eyes flickered.

   “Yeah, just spooked I guess.” Hands went back into her pocket so she leaned into the booth. “You?”

   “Just glad he didn’t drive off with you.” Heather shook at the thought noticeably, using her sleeve to itch her nose before she held herself and frowned. “What...did you guys talk about in that closet? You know, before the fight?”

   “I, uh, was pretty drunk so I don’t remember much actually,” Evie sidestepped out of the booth, eyes elsewhere, “it was over a year ago.”

   Brock was an asshole, but these weren’t her secrets to share.

   Evie got a few steps in before sighing ice to turn back to Heather. Stunning there under flickers of snow and stars reflecting in her big eyes. Glowing streetlamps. Hair piled with a baby blue ribbon to match her fuzzy sweater. Lips wobbling. Steady, Evie came to hug her tight.

   “Not mad.”

   “You should be.” Heather sniffled, squeezing her before pulling out. Fingers curling into Evie’s coat. “Listen, the whole thing was dumb. He was normal at the time, I didn’t know he was such a jerk. I just asked if he’d met you and figured you guys might have something in common. I was drunk and maybe vulgar. I'm sorry.”

   “We did, ah,” Evie caught herself, “you were just trying to be a wing-woman and I...I get weird about that stuff. I’m still coming around to the idea of being...desired. I don't know. Let's just go inside.”

   “Ugh, you’re hot, Evie, you are!” Heather smacked her ass as they turned to walk off. Evie jumped a mile into the air giggling which Heather mirrored. Arm slung over her shoulder. “The updated wardrobe was only the beginning. You’re the whole package. Smart. Talented. Hell, you have the Keg King on your line. Just admit you’re a tough bitch already and you deserve only the best.”

   “I have him on my line because someone gave him my number. What happened to busting his balls for me?” 

   “Well, I can make an exception if he makes you smile like that.” Heather teased. “Come on, I bet our drinks are cold.” They went into the cafe to leave Brock and his deranged expression behind. Back to the table after Evie waved at Jesse near the register. “Just got us a hot chocolate, figured we could use it. I can get us another if-”

   “It’s fine, Heather, let’s just sit.” Evie slipped her coat off and exhaled. 

   Behind her eyes, pictures flashed to blind. These snapshots of Fredrick shoving her into bed the same way Brock pushed her into that car. Brown hair slipping over sheets before fingers tugged at her clothing. Standing too tall over her until his shadow cast to shroud her soul. Evie felt lost to so many shadows before him with twisting smiles and thunderous claps.

   A hand pushed into her chest to level the speeding heart and weeping lungs. Willed them to be still and lie down as Heather started to speak. More apologies.

   Evie brought her sweater higher to cover herself. Tugged the sleeves down. Wanted to curl up in too much fabric and drown in a dream of silken sheets and falling begonia petals. So no one could see her skin and burn it.

   Her breath drew tighter, closing in around too many clacking objects. Gemstones and keys. Red pushpins like cherries and that one safety pin that definitely opened on its way down. But, she’d been good again. Things would just come out. They had to.

   They had to.

   The things we put into the world come back at us. It worked both ways.

   “Evie, you’re shaking.” Heather paused to touch her hand and Evie almost lunged back.

   “I-I...I’m okay.” A smile cracked too wide. “Just Tannen.” Evie sputtered this breath like a broken fan, head shaking. Another smile. Even wider. Cheshire cat grin full of whimsy. She gulped and forced the chocolate down. Chalky into her stomach. “Did...Carol hurt you during that fight?”

   “Almost pulled my earring out but I got some hair,” Heather tilted to see Evie’s face, “don’t see much of a mark from that slap. You really gotta stay out of fights, Fenny, you’ll give Billy a run.”

   “Don’t I know it?” Evie watched Heather sip and peer at the little fireplace in the corner. “Mostly just shocked and I fell right into Tommy.” Evie rubbed the corner of her eye. Started to breathe better with her friend here. 

   “I still...feel bad about-”

   “Don’t beat yourself up, Heath,” Evie peered at the frost spreading along the windows. Near ready to obscure the world. Hide them in a warm little corner. “I don’t want that for you.”

   “I put you in danger, Eve. I did that.” Heather frowned again. Took a shaky drink.

   Evie didn’t have the heart to tell her best friend that danger was an old love whose arms she’d always walk into willingly. Body and soul. That she felt here when her heart panged at danger’s shadow and weight looming over her shoulder. Spilling to eat her right up. Weighting her into a damp sheet. Again and again in the same room that held her hostage.

   “Guys like Tannen put us in danger,” Evie decided at last, “not the other way around.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you all so much for reading and supporting!! Chat with me and let me know what you think of the story if you have time. xoxo

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[camillemontespan]

a week at aunt olivia and uncle leo’s [part four]

Part Three if you want to catch up 

Abso-fuckin-loutely.

A pin drop could have been heard after Lily uttered Mr Big's famous line with a smirk on her face. Her father's smirk.

The phone was silent on the other end. Olivia and Leo stared at the five year old, waiting with bated breath for Drake to roar down the phone.

Lily passed the phone to Olivia. 'Daddy wants to speak to you.'

Olivia groaned and took the phone. 'Hello, Drake.'

'Olivia, why the fuck is my daughter watching Sex and the City and why is she swearing?' Drake hissed.

'Um..'

'Olivia..'

'Fine, I was a little drunk- I mean, giddy - last night and decided to put the show on. Don't worry, I fast forwarded any dodgy bits so Lily didn't see -'

'She's fucking four!' Drake shouted. 'She should be watching Peppa Pig, not fucking Carrie whats-her-name with the horse face!'

'Look, I'm sorry,' Olivia said, trying to calm him down. 'It won't happen again.'

'Damn right it won't happen again,' Drake thundered. 'As of now, you're not babysitting her again!'

'Not babysitting her again?!' Olivia cried, genuinely upset. She felt her heart sink and she realised that she had caught feelings for her god-daughter.

Leo rested his head on the kitchen table. Lily was staring at Olivia with her eyes wide. Olivia could see that her bottom lip was starting to tremble.

'Uhh, Drake..'

'No more, Liv! This is fucking ridiculous!'

'Look, she enjoys being with us,' Olivia said. 'I'm sorry I showed her that programme but we've been having a good time -'

Lily launched herself across the table and pulled the phone out of Olivia's hand.

'Daddy I don't want to leave Aunt Olivia and Uncle Leo's,' she said, her voice shaking. 'I love them.'

Olivia could hear Drake speaking to his daughter in a soothing voice, probably trying his best to turn Lily against them. But what Drake couldn't see was the stubbornness in Lily's eyes and the tears that were starting to spill down her cheeks.

'No, no, no!' Lily shouted, her voice cracking. 'I want to stay with them and have meatballs and watch TV and have bath time and play dress up!'

Olivia could see the conversation was getting out of hand so she gently took the phone from Lily, who was now shaking all over and hiccuping in between sobs. Leo had got up and sat on the chair beside her, pulling her onto his lap. Lily burrowed into Leo's chest and hiccuped while Leo smoothed her hair back, whispering, 'Shh it's okay, love.'

Olivia took the phone and went out into the hallway away from Lily. 'Drake, its me.'

'Thank you Olivia for making my little girl scream at me down the phone,' he said dryly. 'I thought this would happen when she turned fourteen but hey, I love surprises.'

'Drake, will you stop being a dickhead?' Olivia burst out. 'I know I fucked up. I'm sorry. I'm genuinely really sorry. But you haven't trusted us the whole time she's stayed here! How do you think that makes us feel?'

Drake attempted to interrupt but Olivia ignored him, bulldozing through.

'I actually fucking adore that little girl,' Olivia said. 'She's cute and funny and she lights up the room. We have fun together. She's having a good time and by the way, it might be interesting to note that your precious baby girl hasn't even mentioned you once since she's been here.'

Drake was silent. Olivia heard Camille whisper and the phone jostle.

'Liv, its me,' Camille said, her voice calm.

'Hey, babe,' Olivia sighed, siting down on the stairs.

'Okay, so while I don't like the fact that my four year old has watched Sex and the City and has learned an interesting way to swear, don't listen to Drake,' Camille told her. 'Just please, no more inappropriate TV shows, no swearing, no falling down the stairs.'

'Camille!' Drake hissed. 'You're being too gentle -'

'Shh, Drake!' Camille hissed back. Olivia smiled. She liked how Camille handled him.

'Lily really loves you,' Camille continued. 'Seriously, she goes on about you all the time, it's adorable. She's having a good time and from what I've heard, you are taking her to playgroup, sorting out bath time and feeding her. You're looking after her in your own way but you're sticking by my rules.'

'She's ignored every rule, Camille!' Olivia heard Drake protest. 'For God's sake, Lily's learned the F word!'

Camille sighed and put the phone away from her mouth. Olivia heard her whisper, 'Do you want to go home and be a dad again or do you want to stay here and be the Drake you were before responsibilities? Because after this phone call, I'm getting naked. You're welcome to join me or you can worry about our daughter who is FINE by the way. Its up to you. '

Olivia whistled. 'Damn, Camille.'

'He's been worrying all fucking week,' Camille whispered. 'I'm trying my best to make him calm down and enjoy the freedom.'

'I am enjoying the freedom!' Drake cried. 'Just not when my little girl is falling down stairs!'

Camille ignored him and continued to speak to Olivia. 'We're back in two days anyway. Just no more Sex and the City, no more swearing and just make sure there's no accidents. Got it?'

'Got it, boss,' Olivia confirmed, relieved that Camille had given her a second chance. 'Um, she got a little upset when Drake told her she wasn't staying with us anymore. What will help her feel better?'

'Tea parties,' Camille said instantly. 'Play tea parties with her.'

Olivia felt dread creep up in her stomach.

                             **********************************************

It wasn't that Olivia didn't want to play tea parties with Lily. Far from it. It was because she had never played those types of games growing up. She didn't know what to do.

Playtime for Olivia growing up involved archery, karate and defense skills. She never played with dolls or make up or tea sets.

Swallowing, Olivia went back into the kitchen where Lily was still sat on Leo's lap. The two of them were talking very quietly.

'So, I heard that someone like tea parties..' Olivia said loudly, making her voice bright. 'How about it, babe?'

Lily's eyes lit up and she nodded eagerly, memories of the past fifteen minutes gone. 'But I don't have my tea set!'

Olivia chewed her lip then went to the kitchen cupboard. She brought out three wine glasses. 'These will do.'

Leo groaned. 'Liv, have you not learned from your telling off from Drake?'

'I have,' Olivia said, 'and I listened. Lily likes tea parties. We're having a tea party.'

Lily jumped off Leo's lap and followed Olivia out to the living room. Olivia set up the three wine glasses on the coffee table and stuck some cushions on the floor.

'Um.. What else do we need for a tea party?' Olivia asked, out of ideas.

'Chocolate!' Lily squealed. She ran back to the kitchen, shouting for Leo to find chocolate.

Olivia sat down on a cushion and sighed. She didn't know what to do next.

                        **********************************************

It turned out that Olivia didn't need to worry because Lily took control.

She was the perfect hostess - Camille had taught her well. She asked if Olivia and Leo had had a lovely day, what had they been doing and to make themselves comfortable.

She had chocolate milk which Leo poured into the wine glasses, not keen to let Lily pour herself as the liquid might end up on their expensive rug.

'So what happens at tea parties?' Olivia asked awkwardly.

'Everything!' Lily said. 'We have fun. Ooh, I need my Teddy bear.'

She jumped up and rushed to her room to find Teddy. While she was gone, Olivia grabbed Leo by the arm.

'What the fuck do I do?'

Leo chuckled. 'Calm down, babe. Have you seriously not had a tea party before?'

The look on Olivia's face made him realise how stupid a question that was.

'You just drink chocolate milk and eat chocolate,' he said. 'Whatever Lily wants to do, we do.'

'That could be anything!' Olivia hissed. 'I'm not cut out for this! I thought it was a good idea but come on, Leo, I don't even eat carbs!'

'Do it for Lily,' Leo whispered. 'Just swallow the chocolate milk and pretend it's the most glorious thing you've ever had in your mouth. I won't be offended.'

Olivia stared at him. 'Are you referencing your dick at a tea party?'

Leo shrugged. 'My tea parties are a bit more grown up.'

'I dread to think.'

'Maybe later, we can have a tea party on our own..' Leo murmured. 'Special invitation, you and me-'

'THIS IS TEDDY!' Lily shrieked, bursting into the room holding her favourite Teddy bear aloft. She also had Olivia's old bear, Ernest, which Olivia had given to her to combat her fear of the dark.

'Oh wow, is that your old bear, Liv?' Leo asked.

Lily sat down and placed the two bears on either side of the table.

Olivia nodded. 'I gave him to Lily to help with her fear of the dark.'

'I'm not scared anymore,' Lily said seriously. 'Thanks to Ernest.'

Leo patted Ernest on the head. 'Good work, Ernest.'

Olivia picked up her wine glass with chocolate milk. She eyed it warily, aware that Lily was watching her, and forced it down. God it tasted.. Nice.

'Mmm..' Olivia hummed, genuinely. 'Yum!'

Lily burst out laughing when Olivia put the glass down. Olivia looked at Lily then Leo, seeing amusement on Leo's face. 'What? What's so funny?'

'You have a chocolate moustache!' Lily told her, giggling.

Olivia wiped her upper lip and sure enough, chocolate milk came away on her finger. Leo laughed and leaned over to kiss her.

'Ewww..' Lily muttered. 'No kissing at the tea party table.'

Leo let out a laugh. 'Oh, sorry Madam! Olivia, no kissing at the table!'

Lily stuck out her tongue and then cleared her throat. 'Teddy is going to tell a story.'

Leo and Olivia clamped their lips together and listened to Lily as she picked up Teddy and pretended to make him talk. She told a story about a princess with long red hair and a pet dragon. The princess was brave and rode around on her dragon all day, saving people from bad things like ogres. At the end, she called the princess Olivia and Olivia had to drink more chocolate milk to distract herself from the warm emotions she was feeling.

                               ********************************************

For dinner, Leo got Lily involved with helping to make burgers. He taught her how to roll the patty while they sang along to music. Olivia passive aggressively filmed them on her phone as she sipped her wine before sending the video to Drake, captioning it: 'Lily's having an awful time, as you can see.'

Okay it wasn't passive aggressive. It was just pure aggressive. Being passive wasn't in Olivia's nature so why start now?

The thing was, she understood why Drake was mad. His little girl had watched a TV show about women who always talked about sex and don't even mention Samantha Jones, the most vocal of them all.

But it upset Olivia that Drake didn't trust her. She knew she wasn't the most friendliest of people. She wasn't rainbows and cookies and constant cuddles but damn it, she was a good aunt when she needed to be.

Olivia felt like someone worthwhile when she was around her god-daughter. Call her pathetic but aside from Leo, Lily was the only person in the world who saw Olivia for who she was. Lily didn't judge Olivia on her passion for knife throwing or the fact that she always had resting bitch face. Lily didn't let any of that cloud her thoughts. She just accepted it with a shrug and then begged her to play dress up.

It was in stark contrast to when Olivia met Camille for the first time and the two of them didn't see eye to eye. Or when she grew up in court with Drake who avoided her like the plague. No matter how hard Olivia tried to change people's minds about her, they didn't listen. They still saw a hot tempered, violent, sarcastic woman.

It had taken Olivia months to become friends with Camille (true, Olivia had been a bitch but Camille was American and a commoner and just.. Ugh, forget it) and when she was asked to be Lily's godmother, it had been a huge surprise followed by an unexpected thought: 'I have friends.'

Drake was tougher to crack. They got on much better now because they both somehow managed to pull down their walls. Their relationship mainly consisted of trolling on Instagram, insults and the occasional hug. Very occasional. Once a year hug.

But right now, Olivia didn't care because she was tired of being told she couldn't look after Lily. She would show him.

                          **********************************************

That night, Olivia put Lily to bed after her bath. The little girl smelled of lavender and her hair was pulled up into a ballerina bun to stop it getting tangled as she slept.

As Olivia tucked her in, Lily bit her lip. 'Aunt Olivia..'

'Mm?'

Lily snuggled into the duvet, wrapping her arms around Ernest the Teddy Bear.

'I'll miss you when I go home,' she confided.

Olivia smiled. 'I'll miss you too, babe. But you'll see us next week anyway, it's not goodbye.'

Lily nodded, looking very thoughtful. 'Aunt Olivia..'

'Yeah, babe?'

'Can we have a pizza party tomorrow? Maybe I could invite Milo?'

Olivia ignored her usual thoughts about carbs and pressed a quick kiss on Lily's forehead.

'Of course, babe.'

[my-meant-to-find-blog]

Peter Parker - One Shot “The Truth”

REQUEST - What about a Peter Parker image, where the reader has a secret and Peter tries to find out what it is, because he likes her and wants to become closer friends. The secret is that she lives in a poor block with lots of criminals, because her parents are poor. Idk just that he finds out and tells her that he doesn't care if she has money or not, because she is still the same person. Angst and fluff pls 😙 (ANON) 

 A/N - Hello beautifulsssssss! I am so sorry this took so long to come out. I won't lie, I’m not 100% happy with it, but I couldn't figure out another way to write it, and it is fluffy and angsty I guess! If you could give me constructive criticism that would be great! Oh and remember, REQUESTS ARE OPENNNNNNNNN! I love you all!

 (F/M) Mentions - Briefly drugs, and a light stabbing.

WORDS - 2059

You pulled at the too short sleeves of the sweatshirt that was just about keeping you warm enough on your walk to school. Keeping your head down you didn’t see the running geek behind you trying to catch up. When the hand grabbed your elbow you froze, used to drunk idiots in your apartment block trying to make passes at you, so seeing the warm gleeful smile of Peter Parker looking down at you felt like a huge relief.

 “Y/N! You live the other side of school? What are you doing this route?” The goofy smile never left his face as the two of you started walking in the direction of the school. But the one that had grown seeing him soon slipped off your face, he’d caught you.

 “Oh-oh-oh you know, stayed at my cousin's last night, he lives this way.” You internally cursed, you knew Peter knew you had no other family in the city, the confusion that crossed his face reflected that notion, but he didn’t press on. Instead, his fingers looped with yours, causing a warm blush to creep across your face as he dragged you into the local cafe to grab some coffee before school like you knew he had started to recently. The emptiness of your pockets felt so heavy as you had to make up some lie about not being thirsty as he ordered his drink, the barista turning to you. Peter only frowned more, as he knew your love of coffee, from all the cups you drank during decathlon training when Mr Harrington offered it from his office.

When the two of you started on your way to school again, you tried to keep your fingers curled up in the sweatshirt, to stay warm, but they kept slipping out, it being too physically short. Without saying anything, Peter passes you his coffee, saying he didn’t want it anymore, watching carefully as you silently let out a sigh of relief as the warmth of the cup hit your fingertips. Without realising it, he found himself watching you closely for the rest of the walk as you sipped silently, the coffee hampering the hunger pains just enough. Peter could see something wasn’t right, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it, but first, he needed to get closer to you.

 “Y/N, I was wondering if we could catch a movie sometime?” Peter found himself stuttering out, blushing immediately as he realised what he had said, the romantic nature of it, but the excitement that filled him instantly at the thought, made him grin. He’d like a date with you.

 “I-I-I can’t Peter.” You whispered, your voice cracking with sadness. Your huge crush on Peter was getting to the painful stage now, but you knew he would leave you the second he found out you were living a lie. He would never speak to you again, and that would mean Ned and MJ too, and you would be left all alone again.

 “Oh, yeah that’s okay, maybe another time.” The small sad smile that flashed across his face didn’t go unnoticed by you as you went back to sipping his coffee, trying not scream out how much you wanted to date him. The rest of the walk to school was silent, but it was no longer comfortable between you, Peter trying to get you to look at him, your eyes glued to the pavement in front of you. The second you walked into school, you slipped away into the crowds, leaving a sad Peter Parker to go find Ned before his first class.

 The lunch bell signalled it was time for you to hide in the library, where no one would question you not eating anything more than the free fruit that was available one per student every morning, and drinking from the reusable water bottle you carried with you everywhere. You stuck your nose into the book deeper, ignoring the growls of your stomach as you tried to read. The bag of Dorito’s that fell on the pages made you squeak in surprise, looking up to see MJs retreating figure leaving the library, never once looking back at you. It had become a regular occurrence for her to leave you little snacks. Neither of you ever acknowledged it, but somehow she knew, but she never pressed it, for which you were thankful. You ripped into the bag and all but sucked them up, there has been less than normal food in the fridge, that you had packed for your mum's lunch, knowing how stressed she’d been recently.

 Decathlon wasn’t on this afternoon, so you headed out of school ready to take your long walk home. Walking in the opposite direction of your home for 20 minutes every day really tired you out, but you couldn’t face the truth, not as you walked past everyone with the latest Stark phone, or the expensive makeup palettes girls held touching up their make-up, or even the Starbucks they frequently walked around with. There was no way you could ever afford it, but you needed to keep up a level of pretending, so saying you lived in the nice part of the city, was enough to keep people off your back. So, you pulled your sleeves down once again, the temperature had dropped more, as you started your 1hr round trip, dreaming of Peter Parker in your head as you walked, not really paying attention to your surroundings. Never once seeing a red and blue figure fly over ahead, watching you curiously walk home.

 Peter knew he was spying, using Spiderman for his own personal reasons, a morally wrong thing to do. But he was so drawn to you, he couldn’t help himself. So when you started walking down a dark alley and turning back on yourself, a few blocks later, his curiosity peaked. You walked all the way back past the school, albeit a few blocks over, and started towards the end of the city, few students of the school lived. The further you walked, the more the hairs on the back of Peters' neck stood on end, he knew it was dangerous around here. Tony and May regularly told him to not patrol these streets, so seeing you walk father down them, caused his heart to sink. He didn’t have to have enhanced hearing to hear the chattering of your teeth, the long walk in the winter freezing you to the core. He shook his head softly, about to turn around, to give you the privacy of your home, the overwhelming guilt of what he was doing became too much when he heard your scream.

 Looking back down at the streets below, your body had disappeared as he heard your screams again, when he found you in an alleyway, being cornered by 3 men twice your size. If Peter had seen the knife one of them was holding, he might have called Tony for back up, but not seeing it, only the terror that struck your face, he soon swung into action, webbing two of them up before they could touch you.

 “Y/N RUN!” Without realising it he screamed your name, in his Spiderman suit, the confusion of why Spiderman knew your name, freezing you before you had a chance to run, distracting Peter enough, he didn’t see the man running up behind him, stabbing him in the thigh before running off.

 Watching Spiderman fall to his feet in front of you, was a sight you would never erase from your head, as you ran to support him, the confusion of him knowing your name fleeing from your thoughts. Without thinking you pulled off your thin sweatshirt, leaving you in ae eve thinner shirt, tying the sweatshirt around his thigh to help slow the bleeding.

 “M-my apartment is in that building, i-i-t’ll be warmer to wait there, for an ambulance.” You didn’t want to also admit you didn’t have a phone to this superhero, in your arms, that you’d have to go home to be able to call help for him. You watched the red-masked man briefly nod at you, as you helped him up all his weight leaning on you as you walked him into the building. You were so caught up in attending to your hero, you didn’t see the masked man take in the drug needles across the stairs as you walked up, the torn wallpaper and gunshots in the wall, as you fumbled for your keys to your apartment, the only clean door in the building.

 Peter could barely breathe, and not from the searing pain in his leg. His advanced healing was already fixing the wound that was barely seeping now. No, he couldn’t breathe as he saw the circumstances of which you lived, the barely furnished apartment, was somehow colder than outside, the numerous blankets around the tiny room attesting to the fact this was common. Peter looked up at you behind his mask you gently helped him down onto the sofa, rushing to the small Nokia phone on the corner.

 “Don’t call an ambulance!” He barely got out before you pressed dial on the phone, your terrified face whipping to look at him as if he was crazy.

 “You need help, Sir, you saved my life and got hurt!” You could feel yourself shaking, not only from the cold now, but the adrenaline that was almost pushing you into a state of shock. You watched your hero move his hand to his mask and go to pull it off, but you found yourself stopping him.

 “Don’t feel like you need to show me your face, you keep your identity secret on purpose, I’m not worth knowing your secret.” You whispered gently sitting beside him going to push the mask back down his face, but his hands were stronger and you were soon looking into familiar eyes.

 “PETER?!?!” Clamping your hand over your mouth you shot up in surprise, guilty-looking eyes looking up to meet you shocked ones.

 “Y/N, love, I can explain.”

 “T-that’s how you knew my name…” You were violently shaking now, about to go into shock, before Peter pulled you into his arms wrapping the closest blanket around the both of you as he softly told you the story of how he became Spiderman, rubbing his hand on your back soothingly, his melodic voice and touch gently calming you back down.

 “So how did you find me?” Your eyes flickered around your flat, an overwhelming sense of panic now hitting you once again as you realised he knew where you lived.

 “I-I followed you. Please Y/N know I didn’t mean it creepily. But something was just telling me that something wasn’t right, and I was worried and I just started following you…I understand if you hate me. But why did you lie Y/N? I thought you lived near Ned and Flash? Why didn’t you tell us you lived here?” You looked up expecting to see the disgust in his eyes, why wouldn’t he be disgusted when he saw how you lived? But all you saw when you looked up was warmth and kindness, and a slight note of sadness, as he took in your thin cheekbones as if for the first time with a new light.

 “I didn’t want you to hate me.” You couldn’t stop your voice from breaking as a few tears rolled down your cheeks as you explained how you had gotten into Midtown on scholarship, and how your Mum worked 3 jobs to try and look after the two of you, but it was barely enough. “I understand you want to go now, I won’t stop you.” You said heartbroken as you stood up expecting Peter to dart out of the door, but the soft hand pulling you back down shocked you, but when soft lips pressed yours, you were literally thrown you off your feet with surprise.  

 When Peter finally pulled away for air, he grinned at the blush that spread across your cheeks. ‘I could never hate you, your home doesn’t determine who you are. All I see is a fearless, beautiful lady who is the smartest person I have ever met. Just don’t tell MJ.” He winks at you before pulling you in for a kiss after kiss after kiss.

 Maybe you could get used to this.

[justanoutlawfic]

Why Did It Have To Be Me?: 3/3

Trigger warning: mentions of child abuse, marital abuse, rape and incest.

This story took a different turn than I expected. There will be a sequel to this fic, I promise. In the meantime, let me know what you think.

Also on AO3

Mary Margaret walked into her house, her eyes feeling heavy. She wanted to sleep for the next 10 years, pretend like she didn’t just go through the worst night of her life. She was the reason why David and Kathryn weren’t working out.

 Inside of her was a tiny life, one that would be dependent on her for the next 18 plus years. It scared her to death to think about. She thought of her mother, who had always been so patient and kind to her. Her mother who never seemed scared.

 How had she done it?

 As Mary Margaret turned down the hallway, she heard her father clearing his throat. She flinched, clamping her eyes shut. Once upon a time, Mary Margaret and Leopold had been close, they had all been. Then Eva died and everything changed. He poured himself into his work and was barely ever home. She had Johanna to help her mourn her mother, but it still wasn’t easy.

 Not 2 years after Eva had died, Leopold was getting married again. This time, it was to Regina Mills. Mary Margaret knew of her, the daughter of Cora and Henry Mills. She wasn’t much older than her, barely out of high school. She didn’t know at the time, but it had been a complete business arrangement between Leopold and Regina.

 She could hear Regina’s screams every night and saw how she went from a kind, sweet woman to a hollow shell, who barely ever smiled. She tried to keep a brave face for her step-daughter, but it was too late. Mary Margaret tried to stand up for her, but it was no use. Bruises covered both of their bodies and there was no use in fighting. They were both his prisoner.

 Until Regina finally broke free. She had fallen in love with their gardener, Daniel Colter. She told Mary Margaret she would’ve taken her with her, but she had no legal claim to her. While Regina had begged Leopold to let her adopt her, he knew better. He knew that their marriage wouldn’t last forever and he wouldn’t risk losing his daughter. After a messy divorce, Regina had settled out of town with Daniel on a farm. It had been 3 years since then and Mary Margaret would sneak off to see her when she could, but it was difficult.

 “Hi Daddy,” she whispered softly.

“You’re home earlier than I expected.”

“It wasn’t that much fun.”

Leopold nodded. “That…or were you just not feeling that well?”

“Huh?”

 He reached into his robe pocket and pulled out the pregnancy test. Mary Margaret felt her stomach flip flop. She had hidden it well, hadn’t she? She wanted to hide it from her father until she could find a way out.

 “Daddy…”

“Who is the father?” Leopold asked quietly.

“I…I don’t know.”

 She couldn’t let anything happen to David. Leopold was possessive and cruel, there was a reason why David was the first person she was ever with.

 Leopold rose from his seat and walked over to his daughter, allowing the test to fall from his hands. He grabbed her by the chin and looked her directly in the eye.

 “Tell me who the father is.”

“I don’t know, I swear!”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I…I got drunk and slept with someone at a party! He was gone when I woke up the next morning! I never got his name!”

“So, you’re telling me that my daughter is a dirty little slut?”

“Daddy, please.” Mary Margaret trembled under his grip. “You’re hurting me!”

“How could you let this happen? I thought I raised you better than this! I don’t want some bastard for a grandchild!”

Mary Margaret snapped, feeling violently protective of her child. “Well, just one year ago, it could’ve been yours!”

 Leopold’s eyes widened and he moved his hand from her chin, smacking her across the face. She held her cheek and felt the tears falling down her stinging skin. Leopold had come home drunk one night, claiming that everything was her fault. She had picked Daniel to work for them, she had known about his affair with Regina. If not for Mary Margaret, he’d still have a wife.

 She wanted to make people happy so damn badly, she could please him.

 “Get the fuck out of my house,” he whispered.

“Gladly.”

 She turned on her heel and headed for the stairs, but he grabbed her by her arm.

 “No. Everything you have is mine. You leave with that dress on your back and trust me, that is a pleasantry.”

 Mary Margaret knew that some of the stuff upstairs wasn’t necessarily from him. She nannied for the neighbors down the road and had used it to buy some of her own things. Still, it wasn’t worth the argument.

 “I’m taking my car,” she said.

“I’ll impound it.”

“Fine.”

 She grabbed her keys, anyway. She knew where she was going and they’d help her with transportation. Storming out of her house, Mary Margaret got behind the wheel. Looking in the mirror, she could see the bruises forming on her chin, the red handprint on her right cheek. It wasn’t as bad as it could be. At least she had escaped alive.

David managed to convince James to go to the after party without him. Kathryn went as well, not saying two words to him after their dance. David couldn’t blame her, he’d hate him too. He had been leading her on for far too long.

 He walked into the house and threw his keys up on the hook. Ruth was puttering around the kitchen, making tea.

 “Hey, Ma.”

Ruth jumped and turned around, chuckling. “Oh, David. I wasn’t expecting you home, I swore you and James were going to the afterparty.”

“He did...I wasn’t in the partying mood.”

She studied his face, walking closer to him. “What happened, baby? Did you and Kathryn have a fight?”

 The worried look on her face brought guilt to David’s stomach. She was such a good mother, she worked her butt off to give him and James a good life. How could he do this to her? How could he give up Yale and the whole life that she wanted for him?

 Mary Margaret would understand, she’d have to. She had a full ride to an Ivy League, too. They could give the baby to someone that could give him or her the best life possible. If Mary Margaret was insistent on keeping the baby, he’d find a way to pay child support and visit as much as he could.

 He had already broke one heart that night, he couldn’t break another.

 “We broke up,” he managed to get out. It wasn’t exactly a lie, it just wasn’t the full truth either.

“Oh, honey.” Ruth put her hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry, I know how much you liked her.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it’s for the best. You’re about to head off to college. You don’t want any distractions.” She let out a content sigh. “College. You and James will be the first people in this family to go. I am so incredibly proud of you, baby boy. You know that?”

David bit down on his lip, his stomach twisting. “Yeah, Ma. I know.”

Mary Margaret tossed bac

k and forth in her sleep that night. She had driven to Regina and Danie’s, telling them everything. Regina iced her bruises while Daniel said he’d call the police, but Mary Margaret knew it’d be no good. His lawyer, Albert Spencer, would have him out within seconds and it’d only further put her and the baby at risk. She told them about the baby and her plans, and they said they’d support her. She could live with them and they’d help her raise it.

 It should’ve been enough to comfort her and yet, she still couldn’t sleep.

 Around 2 AM, she headed towards the bathroom to pee. She paused when she heard Daniel’s voice traveling from upstairs.

 “We can’t afford another mouth to feed, Regina.”

“You heard her, she’ll get a job.”

“She’s got a high school education and will be attending class plus raising a baby. How much money can she really make? And where will it go when we all have to work? We’re going to end up financially responsible.”

“Daniel…”

“I want to help her, I do. I just don’t see how we can make it work.”

“We have to try! I’ve been her, Daniel. I was in her shoes and I got away. I was lucky to have you, we’re all she has.”

“I want to help her, I do. Just look at it realistically, Regina.”

“We’ll make it work,” Regina insisted, the firmness in her voice. “I won’t let her go on the streets.”

“Well, what about the father? Do you think he’ll be able to help much? She goes to a private school, doesn’t she?”

“He’s a scholarship student, his mom owns a failing farm in town.”

“So, in short…no help there.”

 Mary Margaret shut her eyes, biting down on her lip hard. She should’ve known better than to come to Regina and Daniel’s. They were some of the kindest people she had ever met and they’d risk everything for her, but it wasn’t fair. They already had a 2-year-old son to tend to.

 They didn’t need two more mouths to feed on top of it. She’d go to David. Like Daniel said, he didn’t have much, but maybe they could be more help.

Mary Margaret didn’t hear from David for the rest of the weekend, but didn’t think much of it at first. He didn’t have her phone number and it wasn’t like they ran in similar circles.

 On Monday, she walked down the halls, her hand instinctively going over her chin every few seconds. She didn’t have any makeup and Regina’s skin tone was too different from hers to lend her any. She didn’t know how she was going to explain it to people, but most seemed to be giving her the cold shoulder anyway.

 When she turned the corner and saw Kathryn, it didn’t take long for her to figure out why. She knew and she had told her friends, of course she had. Keeping her head held high, she walked straight past her and headed towards her locker. Before she could start her combination, David approached her. He opened his mouth, then shut it, his hand touching her chin.

 “What happened?” He whispered.

Mary Margaret jerked away. “Let’s just say my dad didn’t have the best reaction.”

David’s eyes widened. “Mare…I am so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Look, I’ve been staying with my ex-step-mom and her husband, but it’s not the best situation. They can’t exactly afford two more mouths to feed and well…I know your family isn’t much better off and we’re not exactly together, but maybe…” She trailed off and saw the guilty look on his face. “What?”

“We need to talk. Do you um, do you think we could meet up later?”

“Why can’t we talk about it now?”

“Mary Margaret…”

“If you have something to say, just say it.”

 David sighed and looked around. Everyone was staring at them. He took hold of her hand and gently lead her into an empty classroom, shutting the door behind him.

 “I didn’t tell my mom.”

“Do you want me to go with you? I could make it easier.”

“I mean…I’m not going to tell her.”

Mary Margaret tilted her head. “What?”

“I think…I think I’m going to Yale after all.”

 Mary Margaret felt her heart sink in her chest and he reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away from him.

“You said you would stay,” she whispered.

“I can’t. My mom worked so hard her entire life to give me and my brother a good future. I can’t let her down.”

“What about the baby? What about…” She trailed off before she could ask about herself. She didn’t matter to him, of course she didn’t. “What about it’s future?”

“I think…I think maybe we should consider adoption.”

“Adoption?”

“We’re kids, Mare. What kind of future can we offer it?”

 She ducked her head, trying to not think of what Daniel had said. She knew this was the best option, but she didn’t want to go there.

 “You could go to Columbia. You can give yourself a future. This baby needs parents. Not…not…”

“Two kids that slept together after one of them got into a fight with his girlfriend?”

“We were more than that.”

“Were we?”

 David bit his lip and looked away. Mary Margaret stuffed her hands into her skirt pocket, looking around the classroom.

 “Maybe you’re right,” she whispered.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you into anything…”

“I can’t give this baby anything and it’s not fair to them. I’m only holding on so tight…because they’re all I have. But…a parent does what’s best for their child, always.”

 She thought of Regina and the lies she had told to keep her son safe. She thought of how Regina had spent the last of her inheritance to fudge the papers to keep the world from knowing who Henry’s father really was. She knew that she could never let Leopold know the truth. Daniel was an amazing father, he loved Henry as though his blood ran through his veins.

 Being a mother meant giving your child their best chance.

 Mary Margaret knew what she had to do, to give this child hers.

 4 Months Later

David walked into his dorm room, throwing his backpack down on the bed. He knew college was going to be tough, but it seemed to be harder with each passing day. He looked over to the bed on the other side of the room and saw that his roommate was fast asleep. Thomas was from the city and didn’t seem interested in bonding with David very much. It definitely wasn’t the college experience he had been expecting.

 Kathryn had reversed her acceptance to Yale and had managed to beg her way back into Stanford after all. David was glad that she was chasing her dream, but it meant that she was alone. Even James was attending a different college and was barely in touch, only texting to brag about his latest conquest.

 He settled down at his desk, ready to take a crack at the homework that was due the next day. Before he could crack the lid on his psychology textbook, the phone in his pants buzzed. He fished it out and saw he had a text from Mary Margaret. They hadn’t spoken since she left early for Columbia. She promised to keep him updated on the baby and send him the papers when the time came. He peered down at the screen, reading the simple three words.

 It’s a girl.

 That was it, nothing else. Had she decided to find out the sex of the baby after all?

 He walked back over to his bed and pulled out the copy of the sonogram that Mary Margaret had given him from under his pillow, the only picture he had of his daughter. She would grow up without him, possibly not even knowing that he existed. There was a good chance her adoptive family would choose not to tell her that she was adopted. All he could hope for was the day that he got to hold her before she was given away.

 He gently kissed the picture, before stroking it. “I’m sorry, baby girl,” he whispered. “You deserve more than a coward for a father.”

Mary Margaret was in pain, but she convinced the doctors that she was well enough to make the trip down to the NICU. She had to go there first, she had to see her baby girl.

 Baby girl, she had a baby girl.

 She wasn’t supposed to deliver so soon, her due date wasn’t for another 3 months. She had only been at 26 weeks, she was supposed to have more time.

 God, why didn’t she have more time? She was supposed to have until January to save up enough money, to get an apartment and work her butt off to raise the baby. She had only just gotten a job a week prior. The plan was to drop out of Columbia after she found a decent place to live.

 Now, all she had was a couple of hundred bucks and a college roommate who had barely woken up to give her a ride to the hospital.

 There was no way she could keep her now.

 The nurse parked the wheelchair in front of an incubator towards the back of the room. The baby inside barely looked real, almost like a doll. Her eyes were shut and she seemed to have a million monitors attached to her.

 “Can I hold her?” She asked.

“I’m sorry, Miss Blanchard, I’m afraid she’s too weak. In a few months time…”

“I won’t be here in a few months,” Mary Margaret whispered. “I’m giving her up for adoption.”

“Oh.”

“I…I don’t even have a couple lined up. I wasn’t planning on this, I was supposed to have more time.”

“If you leave her here, we’ll find her a family.”

Mary Margaret looked up at her. “Really?”

The nurse nodded. “It happens more often than you think. You’ll sign away your rights and we’ll contact someone to take her when she’s strong enough.”

 Mary Margaret let out a deep breath. She wouldn’t have time to pick someone, she’d have to trust that the family was good enough. She remembered learning that most agencies had strict qualifications. Her daughter would end up somewhere good.

 “Do you think you could give this to her when she’s old enough? Make sure it goes home with her?”

 She held up the blanket that was folded on her lap, the one she had been working on since graduation. It had purple ribbon and a name stitched in the corner. The nurse took it, studying the name.

 “Emma,” she said, softly. “What a pretty name.”

“I know whoever adopts her can change it, but…I’ve had it in mind since before I even knew what she was.”

“I’ll make sure Emma keeps this, I promise.”

 The nurse draped the blanket over the second half of the incubator, before walking away to check on another mother. Mary Margaret forced herself up, holding onto her IV as she did. She peered into the incubator, tears gathering in her eyes.

 “I’m sorry, Emma,” she whispered. “I wanted to keep you, I had it all planned out. It was going to be the two of us against the world, just you and me baby girl.” A single tear fell down her cheek. “But you came early, and that’s okay. You were just so excited to make your mark on the world, weren’t you?”

 She reached her hand through one of the holes and stroked her hand.

 “I love you so much, it may not seem like it since I’m leaving you here, but I do. I love you more than all the stars and the moons in the sky. You’re my miracle, you know. You’re the reason I’m still here. I have to give you, your best chance. And that’s not with me.”

 The baby barely moved and for a moment, all that could be heard were the sounds of her respirator.

 “I hope one day I’ll see you again,” Mary Margaret said. “Until then…be happy, be good for your new mommy and daddy. Just know you’ll never leave my heart, ever.”

The nurse came back around. “Miss Blanchard, you really need your rest.”

 Mary Margaret nodded and sat back down in her wheelchair. The nurse pushed her out, forever separating mother from child.

[sapphiresassenach]

A Far Away Infinity

This fic idea was just floating around in my head for a while and I finally wrote it. It will probably be around four or five parts. Let me know what you think!

Part 1 // Maybe it’s You and Me? //

The museum was busy for a weekday, Claire thought. She would know as she visited the museum at least once a month one her days off from the hospital. People bustled around her in hushed whispers around the gallery, gazing at the art hanging on the walls.

Claire stood back from the cluster of people, readjusting her sunglasses on the top of her head and squinting as the small text box next to the painting instructed to do. Art was one of her favorite things, though she had no creative ability whatsoever. Science was more her style, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t spend her days admiring others’ labor of love.

Museums were quiet and evoked a sort of peace in her, she had found. In contrast to the hectic ER, the museum juxtaposed the energy in her professional life. She would get lost in a gallery, tracing the footsteps of others and observing the other guests as much as the art on display.

Having been through all galleries three times, she decided it was time for coffee. Black and strong. It was a treat she always looked forward to at the end of her visit. A nice place in the museum café, looking out at the streets with a book for the next few hours.

She walked down the corridor leading to the main lobby of the museum, pulling out her phone and glancing at the lock screen.

Frank Randall

Just landed. Talk to you tonight. 

She typed out a quick response and pocketed the phone again. Frank was on a trip to London for the weekend. He usually came along to museums with her, though he preferred the historical museums more than the modern. 

They had been dating for the past three years, and a little part of Claire loathed to admit that she preferred going to the museum without him.

She loved Frank. She really did. He took care of her and loved her, but Claire couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. Or was she being unrealistic? They had a solid love, a comfortable partnership. Dependable. Frank had mentioned marriage more than once, he being eight years older than her 28 years. He was ready, but she wasn’t. 

Why?

Sighing, she glanced around the small café at the seats available and sighed again when there was a man in a beanie sitting in her usual spot. She shrugged her jacket tight around her in frustration and moved to grab her coffee, all the while glaring at the face hidden in their laptop.

 Grumbling to herself, she sat her purse on the table behind her usual, hoping the man would leave soon so she could snag it.  Her spot had the perfect natural lighting for reading and the one she currently sat at was uncomfortably close to the rubbish bin. 

Cracking open her book, she began to lose herself once more in “Wuthering Heights” and sipped her hot coffee.

Immersed in the world of Catherine and Heathcliff, she neglected to notice her phone buzzing until it rang for probably the third time.

JAMIE FRASER flashed on her screen with the photo of them together on the estate of his family’s home. She loved that picture. Faces pressed together, smiles on their faces from the crazy wind whipping their hair around, and the green valley in the background.

Quickly, she tapped the screen and held the phone up to her ear.

“Hello?” 

“I was beginning to think ye were ignoring me.”

The sound of his voice made a ridiculous smile spread on her face and her toes curl.

“No, not ignoring you. I was reading and didn’t hear the phone,” she laughed. “What’s up?” 

“Can’t a guy call his best friend?” 

“Oh, I’m your best friend? I thought that was Ian?”

He laughed. She missed his laugh. “Ian’s my brother-in-law. It doesn’t count.” He paused for a moment, “What are you doing?”

She glanced up and noticed the the man had left and her table was vacant. Scrambling, she put the phone into the crook of her neck and gathering her purse, coffee and book. “Just reading a little. Boring, you know me.”

Triumphantly, she deposited her stuff on the table and sighed as she sat down, settling in for another long haul. “What, are you coming home from the gym?” 

He liked to call her on his way home after a work out to pass the time and chat. Though, it was usually a lot earlier where he was. Time differences were a bitch.

“No. I’m rather annoyed though,” despite the statement, she could hear him smiling.

“Oh, about what?” She inquired, taking a sip of her now cold coffee.

“This girl just stole my table,” he said with a huff.

She almost dropped her cup. Without being obvious, she tried to scan the room. He’s not here, you’re being ridiculous, she thought to herself, but still, her eyes searched.

“Well, go steal it back,” she said, a little breathless. She hoped he didn’t hear it.

“Alright,” he laughed and simultaneously, she felt two hands clamp onto her shoulders. The familiar feel of them meant she didn’t need to check, so she turned and threw herself into his arms. 

“Jamie!”

He hummed into her hair, “Well, hello there,” he chucked, wrapping his arms around her tight. She remembered how they felt when he held her against his chest and when he carried her in his arms, and when he pinned her down to the be– 

“Happy to see me?” He interrupted her memories while stepping back to look at her.

“Of course, but why aren’t you in America?” 

She took a step back from his embrace with regret. His denim jacket smelled like heaven and she wanted to breath in the scent all day until she got drunk off it.

“I just came for a visit. I’m heading to Lallybroch in a few days, but I wanted to see you.”

An ear-to-ear smile spread on her face and she felt it flush. He smirked and wrapped an arm around her, grabbing her stuff off the table and leading her towards the exit.

 “Let’s go,” he said, his nose accidentally grazing her temple. 

Gathering her thoughts, she made a few inches of space between their bodies, shrugging out of his arm. Don’t get close, her brain warned. Not again. You won’t recover a second time. 

~Five Years Earlier~ 

Tonight, the sky was lit with a smattering of stars that illuminated the walk to the pub. The inside glowed like a snow globe, a little bubble from the harsh Scottish weather. It would be cozy inside with multiple fires burning and some good company.

It was Jamie’s 23rd birthday tonight and she was here was to help him ring in the new year of life, along with a few other close friends from uni. It was also a premature goodbye party as graduation was approaching fast and soon they would go their separate ways into the real world.

As she walked in, rubbing her gloved hands together and sighing from the sudden embrace of warmth, she immediately felt eyes on her. She didn’t need to look around from hanging her scarf and coat up to know that it was Jamie’s eyes looking at her. She always knew what his gaze felt like. A spark of adrenaline, warmth and awareness was the recipe and she found it intoxicating.  

They had met as freshman and were close ever since. There had been an attraction since the beginning, but nothing ever happened between them. He was her best friend and vise versa, but he had had a high school sweetheart, Laoghaire, and he had dated her the first two years of uni. When they broke up ­–which everyone saw coming– Claire had already been dating André, a transfer student from Spain. Their relationship was rocky at best and lasted the better part of last year, but quickly ended after he moved back to Spain. 

 But now, since the first time they had met, they were both single. Though, Claire felt sure that friends was all they were destined to be.

“Ah, there she is! And late, who would have thought?”

Smiling, she shook her head and butted her shoulder against Jamie as she took the vacant stool next to him. “You’re lucky I came at all, bastard. I do have an exam in two days.” 

His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her, which made her heart skip, and wrapped an arm tight around her. He poured her a beer from the pitcher the table had been sharing and raised a glass towards her. “Now, WE DRINK!”

“Ayes” were exclaimed around the table, from Rupert, who had already looked drunk to Gellis, who looked more than annoyed with him, to Angus, Willie and a few other faces ready to get pissed as Rupert was putting it. 

“Cheers, birthday boy,” she clicked her glass against his.

“Cheers,” he murmured, not taking his piercing blue eyes off hers as he took a sip.

 Warmth pooled in her belly, but she fought it away with a gulp of cold beer and enjoyed the rest of the night without any feelings complicating things.

“SHE WANTED ME, MAN! BERDAAAAA! COME TO ME!” Rupert stumbled drunkenly while Jamie and Angus tried to shuffle his huge body into a cab.

“She didna want ye, Rup,” Jamie struggle to say under his weight. “She just wanted ye to leave her be. Yer drunk, man. You’re going home.”

Rupert glared at him while Angus got in the cab and pulled on him with all his might. Between Jamie’s shoving and Angus’ pulling, Rupert finally managed to get himself in.

Right before Jamie shut the door, Rupert pulled on his collar while looking at me with a cocked eyebrow and whispered something to Jamie that made him turn bright red. 

Glancing away nervously, she pulled out her phone and pretended to type something out while the door closed and started to drive away.

“Do ye want me to call you one, Sassenach?”

“Um,” she glanced up at him as he looked down at her. Damn that poker face. She could never tell what he was thinking, but she hoped that he couldn’t see through her glass face at that moment. 

The wind whipped around them, chilly for May. She didn’t want the night to end, to not see him again until next week after finals were over. And then what? Where would they be?

Time seemed to be slipping away too fast for her to catch it and it made her palms sweaty and her heart race.

“Hm?”

He moved a step closer to her to block the wind while she decided what to do next. She wasn’t drunk enough to say anything rash, but maybe had just enough buzz to do something daring. 

He rubbed a hand down her sweater to warm her. A friendly gesture. Did he only see her as a friend? 

Well, if he rejected her, she could just joke it off as her having to much to drink tomorrow. Or she felt bad he had no one to kiss on his birthday.

“Claire, do you want me to –”

She cut off his question with her lips.

He jumped slightly as if the feel of her kiss was the last thing he ever expected, ever imagined in that moment. He was motionless underneath her hands. Still as a statue. 

Gently, she released his top lip with the upmost reluctance, stepping down and looking at his unreadable face.

She knew he could read her own face in that moment. Her eyes were wide and lips parted still. She licked her bottom lip and his eyes watched the motion like a hawk.

Taking a step back even further, she pushed the hair from her face and looked down at her feet.

“You don’t have to say anything, Jamie. I’m sorry,” she stuttered and fumbled for her phone in her pocket while he still gawked at her.

 “I’ll just,” she motioned back to the bar. “I’ll call a cab.” 

She turned sharply and wondered if she should stumble to make it seem like she was drunk for her alibi tomorrow. 

“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath, watching it form a cloud in front of her. Caught up in her own humiliation, she didn’t hear his footsteps until she felt his touch.

 Before she realized what had happened, she found herself against the cold brick of the bar, out of sight, in the dark with Jamie’s lips pressed urgently against hers. 

Gasping into his mouth, she did nothing as one arm snaked around her waist to pull her body tight against his. She felt his other hand weave into her hair, pushing her beanie off and gripped her hard. Her own hands dangled at her side as his lips and tongue urged her mouth open to him.

He pulled back to look at her, gasping for breath as if he had just run a marathon. His lips were red and swollen from her kisses, a curl of red dangled in front of his face and his eyes were heartbreakingly blue. The earlier mask was gone and all she saw was urgent hope. She had never seen him more beautiful. 

“Are you drunk?” He asked, looking carefully into her eyes. 

“No, are you?” 

“No,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, then cupping her cheek in his palm.

They starred at each other for a long beat, both unaware of what to do next.

It’s time to be brave, Beauchamp.

She licked her lips again and took a deep breath. “Maybe you can call that cab?” 

He stared at her for a moment and then his eyes flickered away from her as he shuffled his feet.

“Ok,” he cleared his throat and patted his pocket for his phone, eyebrows drawn together in either confusion or disappointment. Maybe both.

She smiled a little and snagged a finger into one of his belt loops, pulling him back against her. He jerked in surprise and look at her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t find the missing piece to. 

“But how about it only goes to your place?”

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