#let me shove food in my mouth in peace ffs

[crybabychita]

this foo w a beanie on every day at whole foods stares at me hard af every time i go on my lunch break & it makes me want to fucking scream.. ima start going to the lil pasta place next door bc the cute girl there always gives me a free drink <3

[mydarlingklaus]

A Very Mikaelson Christmas:

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

I know, it's been forever but I've really just been relaxing and taking care of myself the past couple of months but to all my readers for "Black Roses" I DID NOT FORGET ABOUT THE STORY! I will update as soon as possible and I miss it as much as you all do.

This is part 2 to chapter 10 of my klaroline family drabbles: Meeting the Mikaelsons, and occurs before the merge storyline. Link to my ff page can be found here and at the bottom so PLEASE leave a review!

Happy reading :)

"Alright let's go through the list:" Caroline began checking off her clipboard. "Elijah and Freya are on food duty. Marcel is taking care of music, Josie's bake goods are in the oven, Hope and Hayley are finishing the tree and other interior decorations while Kol and Alaric string up the lights outside. Did I miss anything?"

"Yes, like an explanation for why we are doing all of this tedious work when we could have simply hired professionals?" Rebekah blurted from her chair.

Caroline pointed a fake smile at the blonde Original who was casually sipping on a glass of spiked egg nog.

Given that this was the biggest Christmas party she's ever hosted, Caroline tried not to stress too much even over incompetence. This was a joyous time and was determined to make it special. Being an only child with just her mom Caroline never partook in grand holiday gatherings and now, she had two families coming together for the very first time.

"I knew I forgot something, Rebekah you're on table duty." Caroline ordered.

"The hell I am." She snorted before drinking from her glass again.

The baby vampire breathed in and out through her nose to refrain from her fangs latching onto an 1,000 year old being's jugular.

In an attempt to make everything perfect for tonight, Caroline created a schedule of tasks for all the family members to obey, and hers was making sure everyone followed through with their tasks—she didn't count on confronting prissy Mikaelson behavior.

Over a thousand years of existence and they all acted like they never heard of basic chores.

"Last I checked you're apart of this family too which means you have to assist in some way. You can't just drink liquor all day." Caroline scolded.

"Actually I've been doing that just fine, thank you very much." Rebekah grinned raising her glass to the aggravated blonde. "Not to mention I've spent all morning searching for those impossible snowflake place settings you so desperately desired. You're welcome by the way. So from where I'm seated I've done my part."

"If we're being technical, all you did was pick out the pattern from the comfort of her bed while I was the one who actually had to hunt them down." Klaus announced walking into the room, making Caroline exhale into a smile.

She was relieved and happy to see him, not just because she missed his handsome face but because he was the only one capable of talking Rebekah down.

Despite the minor difficulties, Caroline was grateful the girls insisted on bringing thievery one together this year to celebrate Christmas as a family.

Kol flew in from California the night prior, around the same time Rebekah arrived from New York City on her private jet. Alaric had last minute paperwork to finish before handing over the keys of the school to his right-hand-man, Dorian, for remainder of the break—he drove out early that morning, alone.

Alaric finally accepting Klaus as a permanent factor in both Caroline and the girls' lives made their complex situation more graceful.

"I hardly see how that's relevant." Rebekah retorted with an eye roll, amusing her dimpled face brother walking up behind the chair to place his hands on her slumped shoulders.

"It's relevant, little sister, because you haven't lifted a finger since you've been here. This is a family day which means everyone is pitching in, no matter how much we may not want to. You're no exception here. I assure you arranging a few place settings on the table won't break a nail."

She shoved him off. "Oh please, as if you actually care about the holidays when you haven't spent one with us since Hope was wobbling around in bloody diapers."

"Rebekah—"

"You know Nik, It's okay to admit you're only agreeing to such humiliating labor to impress your precious baby vampire. We all already know the truth." She teased, smirking while finishing off her drink. The expression in her eyes could easily get under anyone's skin.

Caroline pressed her lips into a tight line, already sensing Klaus' annoyance beside her.

After all these years of being in Klaus' life—in some capacity—she figured the vindictive Original would have warmed up to her by now.

Obviously, not so much.

"Damnit Rebekah, stop being a brat and just fetch the bloody plate settings." Klaus groaned impatiently.

He shook his head when she childishly stuck her tongue out at him before standing to make her exit towards the kitchen.

"Where are those bloody daggers when I need them?"

Caroline sighed exasperatedly when placing her clipboard on the piano. "Oddly enough, that doesn't sound too bad. I'll forever deny that I ever condoned that."

Klaus laughed under his breath. "Your secret's safe with me."

The blonde's white teeth nibbled on her rose colored bottom lip. Both hands fisted into his black buttoned-down shirt, fingertips teasing the exposed necklaces before she leaned on her tiptoes for a quick but lingering kiss. Lips barely tasting the other before slowly parting, foreheads resting against each other's for a few peaceful seconds.

"Hi." She smiled.

"Hi." He smiled back while tucking her hair behind her ears. "I don't like seeing you stressed."

"Then you're completely unaware of what it's like to have a conversation with you." She teased, kissing his pouty lip sweetly. "But if you were any different I wouldn't want you."

"And what a shame that would be."

Their lips pecked against each other's again before Caroline let out a deep exhale, looking over their Winter wonderland home to see what else needed to be done—there was quite a bit.

"You're still stressing." Klaus said when observing the stress line in her forehead.

Caroline scoffed turning to face him. "Uh, yeah! The tree is only half done, the outdoor lights are probably just slapped on like a pile of meat and did you not just see me pulling teeth just to get your sister to set a damn table!"

He chuckled to himself, kissing her wrinkled forehead and rubbing her arms to calm her.

"Rebekah is the laziest vampire I've ever known and I'm sorry about her behavior but love, she had point. We could've hired professionals to do all of the decorating and cooking in half the time. I have excellent recommendations from our last gathering. Money wouldn't have been an issue if that's what you were worrying about."

"Seriously? Do Mikaelsons know nothing about traditions?" She scoffed.

"Actually no, we don't. To be fair me and my siblings only began liking one another two years ago."

Caroline's lips pursed as she pushed his hands off of her. "This had nothing to do with money, and this isn't just any Christmas, it's our first Christmas with everyone home together and I wanted all of us to embrace all the holiday traditions as a family. Which includes forcing in-laws to do basic household tasks like decorating a damn tree."

"In-laws?" Klaus smirked.

Caroline's cheeks slightly reddened as she accessed the weight of her words. Her sweaty palms rubbed up and down her burgundy bodycon dress hastily.

"Shut up..." She mumbled, slapping his chest when his smirk grew.

"Look, Klaus I may not have grown up with a huge family but I did have a lot of friends who took that place. We decorated trees, hung lights, ate dinner together, drank more alcohol than legally allowed and enjoyed each other's company." She explained somberly. "They stopped me from feeling lonely every year and I always said when I had a family of my own those traditions wouldn't die, and now I do..."

The corners of Klaus's lips turned up into a soft grin at her shy doe blue eyes staring up at him through her thick lashes.

Klaus stepped forward, grabbing her by the hips. "I like this."

"What, my distress or me bossing you around?" She teased relaxing into his hold around her waist.

"You being in my family." He clarified. "I like that you're mine and hearing you consider this your home. You'll never be alone, love and I'm very much looking forward to many, many more Christmases to come with all the ridiculous traditions attached."

A warm smile made its way to her face as she observed the genuine contentment on his.

It was just as surreal for her too, but for Klaus to go centuries spending every holiday alone to now sharing it with an entire family, she knew how much these moments meant to him. But she was just as eager to spend the rest of eternity with him too.

Her hands reached up to his face to bring him in for a quick but effective kiss

She moaned into his mouth when he unexpectedly gripped her sides, tongues brushing as they stole a few more of these rare moments.

They were both dazed as Caroline pulled away.

"Thank you. I guess I'm kinda into you." She smiled while wiping her lipstick off his bottom lip with her thumb.

Klaus responded with another kiss, this one more urgent and than the last. His hand placements more determined and certain as squeezed her hips, riding up the skirt of her burgundy dress.

Caroline giggled against his lips.

"Nope. We can't right now..." She whispered, trying to show some restraint inspire of her body's craving.

"Come now love, I haven't had a second alone with you all day. Indulge me." He persisted, pulling her closer against his hard chest.

"There's still so much to do..." Her defenses slowly falling.

"That'll all get done momentarily. Besides, we are currently standing underneath a mistletoe. We must comply with all holiday traditions. Isn't that what you said?"

Caroline appeared slightly bewildered when looking up at the festive plant hanging over them, not remembering hanging it up there before peering down at her smirking hybrid. The inner conflict roaming in her head already a thing of the past when her hungry eyes made contact with his full bottom lip.

"Rules are rules." She agreed breathlessly, her arms now wrapped around his neck she happily succumbed to the surrender.

Not beating his tongue from invading her mouth and fingers scrunching up her dress as the oral exchange deepened into a more passionate frenzy.

Her sexual appetite no better than his, especially when being deprived of each other for longer than 10 minutes.

"Oh for fuck sake! Would you two get a room already?"

With a low groan, the couple detached their lips but remained wrapped in each other's arms despite Kol's rude interruption.

"Certainly. Every room in this house belongs to me after all." Klaus announced.

Kol tilted his head with a smile, leaning against the living room's wall with a glass of liquor in his hand and ankles crossed.

"I'm no prude and usually would be helping myself to the view of your public display of affection, however, someone has to save my precious nieces from the emotional scarring." He claimed. "Not to mention, I've been tortured enough today from hanging bloody Christmas lights with that moronic human all day. Last thing I need is a floor show featuring Caroline where I'm not participating."

The blonde's cheeks suddenly a deeper shade of blush pink while she held Klaus back by his chest.

"Say anything even remotely offensive towards her again and I'll rip out your heart through your throat. Understood?"

The younger Mikaelson grin spread menacingly at the beading gold hue in Klaus' eyes.

"Is it a proper Mikaelson gathering without a few death threats? Happy holidays to you too, brother." Kol lifted his glass to the couple before skipping out the room.

"Remind me to snap his neck while he's sleeping tonight." Klaus groaned.

"I don't get why you're still bothered by his remarks after all these years. You know how he is and how much he loves getting under your skin because you make it so easy. He's harmless."

"More like a pest." He scoffed. "And his habitual inappropriate comments towards you doesn't make it right Caroline and quite frankly, I'm over it. Why did you to invite him anyways?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Because I invited the entire family and last I checked he's your baby brother, who you've missed more than you want to admit."

"Debatable." Klaus muttered, causing Caroline to laugh as she trapped his lips with hers for a sweet kiss.

"Better?"

He smirked against her lips. "With you? Always."

Playfully rolling her eyes, she twirled away from his greedy hands.

"And speaking of the girls Lizzie just texted that she and Sebastian are about ten minutes away." Caroline informed, deflating Klaus' smile.

"Yes, how could I forget we allowed our naive 17 year old daughter to go on a solo road trip with a boy three centuries older than her." Klaus muttered.

"She's not alone."

His eyes narrowed at her teasing tone. "Caroline."

She giggled, fixing the collar of his shirt. "Lighten up. I thought we talked about this. You said you were going to stand down as overprotective dad when it came to the girls love lives."

"They're only 17 and 18 years old. They're not allowed to have love lives, especially with boys as old as I am." Klaus scolded.

"Weren't you the one who was more than thrilled to agree to Sebastian spending Christmas here?"

Klaus' face scrunched. " 'Thrilled' is a bit of a reach, love. More like you and Lizzie ambushed me with the invitation. I'd agree to anything for her to be here even if it meant agreeing to undesirables staying in my home."

The baby vampire's eyes narrowed. "Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic?"

"Dramatic?" His eyes widened. "Caroline, this ancient boy popped out of nowhere. Has shown a sudden interest in our very young and vulnerable daughter after knowing her for what, a few days? And has her so mind-warped he even managed to convince her to let him spend the bloody holidays in our family sanctuary. He's a stranger to all of us, so forgive me for being a bit skeptical."

Letting go of his collar Caroline took a step back, letting out a loud huff as she combed her fingers through her golden tresses frustratingly.

"If I say something you don't like, promise you won't throw a fit and ruin Christmas?"

"You think I'm being paranoid." He concluded for her.

She nodded while crossing her arms. "Yes, and unreasonable, and a bit of an ass."

"An ass?" His eyebrow quirked up.

"Very much so. Babe, I love you. I know you have nothing but good intentions when it comes to the girls but you need to stop. You have to trust them."

"I do. I've told you multiple times that was never the issue Caroline and you know it. Can't believe you're still insinuating otherwise." He barked.

"Seriously?" She scoffed. "Klaus look how you're reacting right now. It's Christmas! We're supposed to be cheerful and loving towards each other, not insulting and yelling. You try chalking up this behavior to being an overprotective parent but it's more than that. Deep down you don't trust that Lizzie can handle herself."

"You know that's not true." He claimed defensively.

"When you describe her as 'vulnerable' and 'naive' it sorta weakens your claim. It makes me feel like you don't trust me either when I keep reassuring you that everything's fine."

Klaus' features softened as he observed the clear irritation and concern on her face. The wrinkle in her forehead that swigged out whenever they argued shined in all its adorable glory, but for the first time he wasn't delighted to see it.

There was no one in the world he trusted more.

"Car-"

She raised her hand when he tried to step towards her.

"You're an amazing father Klaus, the best even. 90% of the time you're everything they need, and I try to not be jealous about it." Caroline confessed. "But that 10% is for who they are as young women, the parts of themselves they're not comfortable sharing with you. That's where I step in and give them all the advice you can't, like boys and hormones. Hard to believe but there are some things even Klaus Mikaelson isn't an expert on."

Klaus swallowed, feeling more guilty and ridiculous by the second despite Caroline's attempt at lightening the situation with a smile.

"Lizzie is doing good. She's stable and happy for the first time in so long and has no interests of messing up her progress. I know you worry and want to protect her but if she's ever going to be the free-spirited adventurer you always imagined her to be, you have to let her grow on her own. Let her make mistakes and be as normal of a teenager as she can. Believe me when I say nothing ruins the relationship between a father and daughter more than telling her she can't see the boy she likes."

Klaus winced imagining his bond with Lizzie being served over something as irrelevant as a stupid vampire boy.

Being in control of all aspects of his life was how he refrained from completely losing his mind. He was a leader, King of the French Quarter kingdom but these weren't his hybrid soldiers he could command—they were his family.

He nearly lost one daughter for not being there when she needed him, he couldn't make that same mistake with another—no matter the intentions.

"Bloody hell..." he groaned, tugging at his curls. "I've been a proper prick, haven't I?"

Caroline's eyes shifted upwards, pretending to ponder. "Only a little." She said while making Klaus lightly chuckle under his breath.

Biting her bottom lip she cautiously stepped towards him.

"We're not welcoming him into the family, just getting to know him. He makes Lizzie happy so we owe it to her to at least give him a chance." She said, grabbing his hands into hers and caressing the base with her thumb, feeling all the built up tension slowly being released from his body and the situation.

He tilted her chin up, making her crystallized blues peer into his. Her hands rested on his biceps while his free one tightly wrapped around her waist.

"I do trust you, more than anyone. Please tell me you know that." Klaus desperately pleaded.

Her eyes wandered his worried face and heart ached at his desperate tone.

Over the course of their relationship Caroline felt she had to jump through multiple hoops to smother Klaus with reassurance. Deep down she understood his insecurities about their relationship—if she was confident in choosing him and not hating herself for it—but she had some of her own as well, especially when it came to being a good mother.

Caroline slowly nodded.

"I know, but it's nice to hear you say it too." A soft smile made its way to her face.

Her arms circled around him before pulling her hybrid in for a kiss that dissipated the claustrophobic tension.

Klaus squeezed her hips as the kiss transitioned from languidly and slow to passionate and purposeful.

Their lips, warm and soft as they exhaled into each other's mouths. Standing underneath the mistletoe without a care in the world of who in their nosey family could walk in on them.

They were each other's last eternal love and were not going to hide it from anyone—especially during the happiest time of the year.

Caroline gripped his biceps again, softly moaning as she opened her mouth to him and Klaus was all too eager to comply to the request.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The doorbell rang before their tongues could even touch.

"Ignore it." Klaus groaned while going in for another kiss.

"We can't just ignore the door." She weakly retorted as their lips hovered.

"Sweetheart there's a at least six other people in this house. Let them feel useful." He mused when his thumb released her bottom lip from the clutches of her teeth.

Caroline was on the verge of complying until the buzz of her cell phone on the piano distracted them both.

"What is with all the bloody interruptions?" Klaus groaned.

The baby vampire giggled as she wiggled out of his embrace to check the bright screen.

"Our daughter is the interruption. She and Sebastian are right outside. Try to play nice." Caroline encouraged, grinning into another quick kiss before walking towards the front door.

Klaus felt a surge of panic run through his body as he watched from afar as Caroline opened the door.

Her face lighting up at the sight of the young blonde girl in the doorway, pulling her teeth in for a tight hug that visibly embarrassed Lizzie but he knew deep down she appreciated it.

A small smile began forming at the corners of his lips watching them together, knowing they were two of the four lights of his life—his forever love and daughter both under the same roof with him again. For the first time all day he felt whole, finally having all his girls together again, even if it was only briefly.

Family was something Klaus never took advantage of, not anymore.

He tried to focus on the tender moment playing out in front of him instead of the the smirking brunette boy standing beside Lizzie in the doorway.

Klaus' smile faded and fists clenched when Sebastian greeted Caroline with a kiss on both cheeks.

This was the first time he had actually seen the other vampire fully.

No denying he was originated from a different era, based on his ruffled white shirt, boots and blazer like a pirate. Lizzie explained that Sebastian was desiccated as a teenager but he still had a mature aura that made Klaus uncomfortable. His features so sharp and defined, it made him seem much older than he claimed. Too mature for a newly 17 year old girl to be with—Klaus thought.

"And these are for you, Headmistress Forbes. Elizabeth informed me that you fancy white lilies."

Klaus overheard the youngster using his charm on Caroline and based on her flattered reaction and an 'aw you didn't have to' quickly following, it seemed to be working.

-I hate this.

Klaus's chest compressed as the three began walking towards him with beaming smiles on all faces except the boy. Instantly noticing the young couple's fingers interlocked together while Lizzie and Caroline talked and Sebastian's eyes wandered around the mansion curiously.

-I really hate this...

He let out a deep exhale as a smile shaped his lips as the enthusiastic young witch skipped into his arms.

"Merry Christmas Klaus!" Lizzie beamed as their hug tightened.

The nerves that had piled up in Klaus' throat dissipated at the warm greeting from just one of the four lights in his life. It was difficult to imagine the centuries he went without physical affection given how habitual the act was now.

It had barely been two months since he last saw Lizzie but it felt like forever now that she was back home—her real home.

Rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head, Klaus slightly pulled away with one arm still around her.

"Merry Christmas sweetheart. How was the drive?"

"Great. I mean, Uncle Damon's burnt down Camaro is as ancient as he is and I nearly broke a nail operating the stick shift, but overall no complaints."

Klaus nodded his head, making a mental note to dispose of the Salvatore hand-me-down and buy Lizzie a brand new car.

"All that matters is that you're finally here safe and sound." Caroline beamed as she hugged her once more. "Everyone else is probably in the kitchen, slacking on their tasks but they'll be happy to see you."

Expecting everyone to follow her to the room but instead stood in confusion as no one moves.

Lizzie's feet stayed planted, biting her lip anxiously while pulling at the fabric of her white sweater like she wanted to rip it in half

"Um actually, before the rest of our dysfunctional family joins in on all the awkward fun that is to surely take place, I want to officially introduce someone to both of you first."

Klaus felt like the wind was knocked out of him when she took a step backwards to join the young vampire's side. Trying to keep his temper at bay when their hands joined again.

"This is Sebastian. He's a new student at the boarding school and my...my boyfriend." She timidly announced.

Another punch to the core.

Klaus' face was neutral but his body was stiff as a board from the pent up frustration that came with watching your child grow up right in front of you.

He tried to keep in mind the conversation he and Caroline just shared—easier said than done.

"It's nice to officially meet you Sebastian. We've heard great things about you. We're glad you were able to spend Christmas with us." Caroline greeted him.

"No, I'm the grateful one for you Headmistress. Not just for allowing me into your home for the holidays but also enrolling me into the school at the last minute. I see where Elizabeth gets her generosity from." Sebastian charmed.

Klaus' eyes couldn't roll harder, even more from how much Caroline was actually being affected by such mediocre charm. Her bright smile and modest blush that were once only preserved for him now being used on a amateur immortal with accent was sickening.

"It's an honor to finally put a face to the name, sir." Sebastian said with a nervous closed-lipped smile, stepping forward with his hand out.

Klaus stared down at the boy's hand, studied it like it was a foreign object as the three impatiently waited for him to make the next move. A handshake was final, a sign of respect and approval—he definitely didn't approve of him just yet.

He didn't like like this boy and if it were up to him his heart would be rolling in the ice cold snow for even gazing in Lizzie's direction. But he owed it to both Lizzie, and Caroline, to prove he trusted her.

Drawing out a dramatic exhale through his nose, Klaus uncrossed his arms as he locked eyes with the immortal boy. His jaw set and body tense when engulfing Sebastian's hand in a death grip, finally reciprocating the formal gesture.

"Um, Lizzie why don't we go find a nice vase to put these lilies in." Caroline suggested.

"You mean leave them alone, together?" Lizzie laughed. "Yeah, thanks but no thanks mom. I would prefer to return to Mystic Falls with my boyfriend in one piece."

Klaus chuckled at the nervous gulp dropping down Sebastian's throat.

"Sweetheart I promise, I won't kill him. Go on." He assured her with a sinister smile he usually wore before ripping out someone's spleen.

Relieved when she reluctantly followed Caroline out of the room, he set his focus back on the bug-eyed vampire in front of him.

"Unlucky for you I'm not big on keeping promises." Klaus gripped Sebastian's hand even harder—making him wince in pain and jerking himself forward.

"Mister Mikaelson—"

"Except when it comes to my family." Klaus added. "You'd be wise to remember the only reason your limbs aren't scattered around the bloody bayou and heart remains in your chest is because of Lizzie."

Sebastian frantically nodded, groaning from the pulsating ache in his right hand when Klaus finally released it from his hold.

Klaus took a step back, dipping his hands into his pants pockets as he watched the vampire boy massage his own hand. The vampire boy who was spending the next couple of days under his roof, charming his family. The vampire boy who captured Lizzie's heart and knowing there was nothing he could do about it—to protect her.

He sighed looking down at his shoes. "Do you care about her?"

Sebastian paused for a few seconds before nodding his head.

Klaus pressed his lips into a straight line as he walked dangerously slow towards the boy. "Usually I wouldn't tell a stranger this but you're not someone I consider a threat, Lizzie means everything to me. There is absolutely nothing I wouldn't do for her and that includes torturing and mutilating anyone who dares to hurt her in anyway. Understood?"

The vampire gulped when he tripped over the carpet, now realizing how close their chests were to each other's and his back to the wall.

"She's been through quite a lot in her short life and doesn't need an ancient delinquent ruining how far she's come. So I ask again, do you care about her?"

"Me and Elizabeth had our issues in the beginning, I'll admit." Sebastian shamefully confessed. "I—I did hurt her, rather cruelly, and by all unknown good graces she found it in herself to forgive me and grant us a second chance. Deep down I know I don't deserve the your daughter's love and care but, she's the first person in centuries who sees me as a man instead of a monster. Who thinks I'm worth a second chance. It'd be senseless of me to not see what this could become and the past couple of months have proven the future to be bright. So yes, Mister Mikaelson I care about Elizabeth immensely and will leave before I ever hurt her again."

The hybrid shook his head, a small laugh following after. "I know that story, all too well." Cleared the emotional lump in his throat.

It felt like looking into the mirror of he and Caroline's journey. How they originated in hate and hurt. The amount of chances she gave him, the way they saw each other in ways no one else could and the frogs she had to kiss along the way before choosing him as her forever.

Not that Klaus was rallying for this boy to steal Lizzie away, but he was beginning to understand the their draw to one another. Thankfully they wouldn't have to face similar challenges but there were sure to be new ones, and he'd be there by her side—if she needed him.

"Well, I will say I appreciate your honesty."

"I didn't want my first impression to be based under false pretenses." Sebastian grinned with a shrug. "Though she tells me not to worry, your opinion about me does matter. The Headmistress as well but from what Elizabeth has told me, you two are quite close. She values your insights and opinions more than anyone's. Given your infamous and intimidating reputation, it was actually less awkward meeting you than the hairy mortal with a crossbow."

Klaus threw his head back, laughing hysterically.

"You should've seen when he actually tried using that contraption on me. Free comic relief. I'm sure he has one with your name on it as well."

Sebastian snickered. "Yes, actually he's already threatened me with it a few times. Threats and all, I'm glad she has a family who cares about her to this extent. It's refreshing...to someone who is foreign to such familial love."

Klaus understood this boy better than he'd ever admit.

Sighing, Klaus placed his hands in his pants pockets again.

"Come on. It's going to be a long weekend and you haven't even scratched the surface of meeting our entire family."

Link to my ff page. Thanks!

[omnivorousshipper]

@chasien was incredibly nice and shared with me some of the most amazing rat and guinea pig pictures I’ve seen, so I wanted to give them a gift in exchange. A snippet from my ALTA Au for FF

When Letty steals the scroll, she’s overjoyed. She had to teach herself all of her own moves, but this scroll will be able to teacher how real waterbenders control their element. And Letty would rather Sam use the scroll rather than learn from Letty’s scrapped together bending. The Avatar should know how to properly know how to bend every element. However, when Letty sneaks off to the river during the middle of the night, she doesn’t expect a net to come flying at her, pinning her arms and truly leaving her helpless. Snarling, she looks up to see the pirate captain looking down at her. “You don’t dare steal from us, missy.”

What the pirates and Letty don’t know is a certain hawk seeing the incident and flying to Owen to lead him to Letty. 

Owen just arrived at the village, exhausted from traveling all day and half of the night. But nonetheless, he whistles and can’t help but smile broadly when his hawk comes out of the sky and lands on his arm. And immediately starts pecking him for food. Chuckling, he feeds her and asks her to take him to his prey. She obliges

When Owen walks close to the clearing, he sees the waterbender he had fought tied to a tree, snapping at a group of men Owen only had to guess were pirates from their mismatched naval clothes. “If yer crew wants you back, then they better pay up!” The leader barks at her.

“Now that’s not a bad idea.” Owen says allowed, stepping into the clearing. “How about you give her over to me and you get the hell out of here.”

The men surrounding the waterbender laugh. Which makes Owen smirk and spin on his heel, throwing fire from his feet as he kicks out. He takes down four men immediately. Only three others are left, looking gobsmacked. The rest come at him with swords and a club, but he easily takes them down. A nice way to wake up his muscles. When they’re all on the ground, groaning in pain, Owen smirks and walks up to Letty, who is staring wide eyed at him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the pirates.”

Meanwhile, the pirates had sent one of their own to the Toretto crew to lead them to Letty and pay up for her freedom. Of course, this little minion gets the crap beaten out of him and is scared shitless when he walks the group back. These people meant business and he just hopes his captain can deal with them.

But when the group arrives in the clearing, they see Letty tied to the tree, but in front of her is a small campfire with a guy eating in front of it. All around the clearing are unconscious and badly burned pirates. The minion who brought them there is shaking in his boots but is forgotten by everyone

Of course, Dom, Tej, and Roman recognize the guy. Stepping forward, Dom glares at him

“Let me guess, you want something?” He growls out, his fists clenched.

Leisurely, Owen wipes his mouth and stands to look at the group.

“I want the Avatar.” He says bluntly.

“No”

Unimpressed, Owen walls up to Letty, and a fire dagger erupts from his fist as he holds it dangerously close to Letty’s neck.

“You fucker.” She hisses at him. But he ignores her

“Give me the Avatar and I’ll let her go. If not, then well...”

“You piece of shit!” Mia screams, and Brian is trying to hold her back, but she breaks free until she’s standing in front of the group. “Who the hell do you think you are? Are you so blind and brainwashed by the fire nation that you’ll try to take the last hope the world has away? Are you such a coward, you would threaten a helpless person?!”

Owen’s expression doesn’t change. 

“I am Prince Owen Shaw of the Fire Nation, and I’ll tell you right now, that the Avatar is an obstacle to true peace. You’re the blind ones who can’t see it.”

“Peace?! Everyone being enslaved by the fire nation isn’t peace!!” Mia screams back at him.

Owen’s flame flares and makes Letty shout in surprise

“I’m done talking,” Owen growls. “Last chance. Give me the Avatar or watch her burn.”

“And that was your last chance to get out of this alive.” Dom growls back and kicks his foot down, causing spikes of rock to shoot up right under Owen’s feet. They’re not expecting Owen to easily jump away from the spikes and shoot a massive fireball back at them

The group scrambled away from the flames, everyone getting slightly singed. Dom and Luke look at each other, surprised by the guy’s fire. Neither had ever seen a single firebender produce that much fire without drawing from a flame or working with others. This guy meant serious business. And before they know it, Owen’s coming straight at them, fire daggers coming from both hands as he runs and leaps. He’s going for Dom but easily smashes the large rock Luke throws at him. Dom and Luke keep him busy, but they all know Owen is pushing them back. Mia and Brian run away, going back to Sam and their kids, to pack them up and make sure Owen can’t discover Sam. Meanwhile, Roman and Tej are sneaking around the clearing and slowly getting closer to Letty. But Owen spots them. He jumps off the wall Luke had created to block him. Roman shrieks as Owen lands in front of him and a flaming fist comes towards his face. And immediately goes out as ice covers Owen’s whole fist. One of the spikes Dom had sent at Owen earlier had cut some of the rope keeping Letty still. She had grabbed her waterskin back from Tej and by the look in her eyes, she was going to pay Owen back tenfold. 

Owen easily heats his hand up, making the ice melt and then evaporate immediately. He barely takes a moment to asses his situation.

All of his opponents so far had only used one element. If any of them were the Avatar, then they were severely undertrained and was looking for masters to learn from. But, there was no telling which of them it was. Not until they showed their hand. Until then, Owen would keep fighting them, learning their movements, strengths, weaknesses, and wear them down. He could do this all night. He had been training to take on an adult Avatar who could bend all the elements. This was a breeze

The crew is getting desperate. This Owen guys isn’t letting up. Whatever they throw at him, he either dodges or easily shoved away. And the weak moonlight doesn’t help at all. The campfire Owen had set up was smashed very quickly in their fight and the only flashes of light came from Owen himself. 

Sooner or later, they would have to find something to bring the guy down or distract him long enough to escape 

Owen is able to get a lucky hit on Luke, bringing him down flat on his back. Luke’s coughing and is about to push himself up off the ground when he looks up and sees Owen about to land on him, fist pulled back to deliver a full fire blast. And in the next second, Owen’s being shot out of the air by a huge chunk of ice. 

Letty makes Owen fly through the air and out of the clearing by how hard she sends the ice at him. Her rage is fueling her and so is the half moon above their heads.

Owen lands on the ground, and sees that their fight has moved to be the edge of the river. He can tell that the fight might go sour if he doesn’t end it soon. He can’t let the waterbender get close to river during night. Jumping to his feet, he’s able to dodge another boulder thrown by Dom. 

What none of them know is that when Brian and Mia went back to their camp, Sam asked them where her dad was, and when they told her he was fighting and they needed to leave, Sam bolted. She took off in the direction all the adults had left in. And it’s not too hard to find all of them by the crashing and flashes of fire up ahead. She watches as her dad and Dom throw rocks at the scarred firebender. Her eyes go wide as he arches through the air, not bothered by the flying rocks at all. But then, she sees him leap away from the two earthbenders. She follows him with her eyes and she sees that he’s going after Letty. A huge circle of fire erupts around Letty, keeping her from the water.

The sight of all that fire around Letty has Sam scared to death. Without thinking, her arms are moving in a sweeping motion. The water from the river rises up and sends a huge wave across the beach, drenching both the firebender and Letty

Owen’s on the ground, coughing a huge amount of water out of his lungs. He hadn’t seen the waterbender bend anything. How?

Looking up, he searches for the culprit and sees Dom with his arms up. Owen’s eyes widen

He’s figured out who the Avatar is

But that’s the last thing he’s able to process before he’s being dragged across the beach and pulled into the river. Ice encompasses his whole body, and the only reason Owen wasn’t dead is because he can get a huge gulp of air before the water freezes around him

On the beach, Letty’s panting as she freezes the whole section of the river, hoping that Owen was permanently trapped there. 

“Sam!”

Luke’s shout has them all turning to see Sam stepping out of the forest, having been previously hidden from the fighters. She runs into Luke’s arms, sobbing

“I thought he was going to hurt her!”

Luke shushes her, telling her she did good, she helped them stop the bad guy. The others let father and daughter have a moment together before Dom clears his throat. 

“We need to keep going. Who knows how many guys that Shaw guy might have as backup.”

They all quickly leave and meet up with Brian, Mia, and the other kids. They don’t stop moving well into the next day. 

However, when they were leaving the river’s bank, they didn’t notice the steam coming from the ice

When Owen finally frees himself from the ice, he’s shaking from exhaustion and the cold. He just barely drags himself back to where he hide his supplies and pulls a blanket out. Falling asleep, he doesn’t have any energy to plan his next move. The only thing he can think about is keeping warm until dawn

[unfolded73]

Husbands: Two Years In (2/5) - schitt’s creek ff

This fic is complete, posting every other weekday. While I'm including it as part of the "Labels" series, the preceding fics are not required reading. Previous fics in this series: Boyfriends; “I Love You”, Partners, Fiancés

Warning: This fic deals with depression as one of its major topics.

Rated Explicit, this chapter 4964 words. (ao3)

Thanks to @high-seas-swan for cheerleading and B13_MaybeThisTime for many valuable comments (and also cheerleading).

Chapter 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2: Spring

Stevie squinted at the piece of paper Patrick handed her. “This is a lot of instructions just to water some plants.”

“If you over-water some of them, it could kill them. This tells you how to know if they need water and how much water to give them,” he explained.

She sighed, putting the paper aside. “Okay. Do you care if I hang out here and watch your TV?”

“I expected you would.”

“And eat your food?”

Patrick leveled a stare at her. “Yes, please enjoy the boxes of pasta and cans of beans in our pantry.” A distant memory occurred to him. “And I’ve marked the booze so I’ll know if you touch it.”

Stevie stuck her tongue out at him. “Anything else you need me to do?”

“Bethany has your number in case she needs help at the store, but I think she’ll be fine. It’s only for a few days.”

“The Brewers are certainly getting to see a lot of you. They were just here for Christmas three months ago.” Stevie said, collapsing backward over the arm of the sofa. “Now this Easter weekend trip.”

“Yeah.” Patrick shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I still have to make up for a lot of lost time with them. I wasn’t… I wasn’t a good son for a while.”

Stevie eyed him, her legs swinging. “I’m sure your parents don’t see it as a debt that you have to repay. And you had a lot to figure out about yourself back then. It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” Patrick said automatically, not believing it. He walked over and sat next to where her head was resting, taking care not to sit on her hair. “It’s just… I denied them the chance to get to know David much before we were married. So I’m trying to give them the opportunity to spend time with him now. It’s important to me that they see him the way I do. That they understand why I married him.”

“What sign have your parents ever given you that they don’t understand why you married him?” Stevie said, tilting her head back until she could meet his eyes.

“None, really.” Patrick sighed. “I guess I still feel like I need to… reassure them that I’m good. That I’m happy.”

“You want to perform your queer relationship in front of them,” Stevie concluded.

“I mean, kind of? Is that stupid?”

“Only in the sense that I don’t think you need to prove anything to them. But if it makes you feel better, there’s probably no harm in it.” She was still looking at him, her dark eyes hard to read. “Are you still feeling down? Sad?”

Patrick squirmed, regretting that he’d given Stevie that view into his psyche. “No. I don’t… not really. I don’t think so.”

Stevie swung up into a sitting position, her feet dropping to the floor. “You don’t think so?”

“I’m feeling better. But I also feel like I’m detached from… I don’t know how to word it. Like I locked my feelings in a box that I’ve lost the key to. I’m fine, but also I’m… numb is the wrong word, but it’s also not entirely the wrong word.” He frowned in frustration, unsure if any of the things he was telling Stevie were true. He was feeling better. He’d told himself there was no reason to feel sad enough times, and maybe his brain had finally gotten the message.

She patted him on the knee. “Have you talked to David about it?”

The way he looked quickly at her and then looked away answered that question.

“You should talk to David.”

“I don’t need to burden David with this. Like I said, I’m feeling better.” He stood up, anxious to escape this conversation.

Stevie didn’t say anything to that, and Patrick’s shoulders dropped in relief that she wasn’t going to push it. At the same time, some part of him recognized that maybe he needed her to push it. He didn’t want it, but he needed it.

“Okay, well, have a good trip,” Stevie said.

~*~

Patrick shook David by the shoulder. “It’s time to get up, David.”

David whined. “‘S too early.”

“We need to get on the road to my parents’.” Patrick got out of bed. “I’ll take the first shower but then you have to get up.”

David burrowed back down into the covers in response.

The entire morning, David was grouchy and resentful for having been woken ‘before the sun was even up, Patrick!’ and he brought his resentment with him into the car, grousing about the fact that the snack bag (which Patrick had taken care to pack with all of David’s favorite road trip foods) was taking up valuable legroom. He also complained that the car was too cold, then too hot, then too humid. When David started in on how bad Patrick’s car speakers were, Patrick hit his limit.

“Should I have left you at home, David?” he shouted, gripping the steering wheel. “Gone to visit my parents alone?”

David reared back against the passenger door. “No.”

“Then can you give it a rest?”

“Sorry,” David muttered, not really sounding sorry. “It messes up my equilibrium when I have to get up early, you know that.”

“We had to get up that early if we were going to be at my parents’ house by four in the afternoon, David. I explained that.”

David’s mouth twisted. “Okay,” he said after a couple of seconds of silence.

Patrick stole a couple of glances at his husband. He could tell when David’s ‘okay’ really meant, you’re wrong but I refuse to fight with you about it. “What?” Patrick finally burst out with.

“It’s just, it’s not like your parents needed us there by four. They specifically said we could arrive any time. This is you doing that thing where you get locked into a part of your plan for no reason, and then everything else that follows has to fit into that plan.”

“Oh, are we having this argument again? The one about me being inflexible?” Patrick grumbled.

“I guess we are.”

Patrick drove in silence for a few minutes, aware of David studying his fingernails in his periphery. Finally, David slapped his hands down on his thighs. “It’s past time for me to take over driving, isn’t it?”

“Are you sure you aren’t too tired?”

“Mmm, if I doze off at the wheel, you have my permission to yell at me some more,” David said.

“David—”

“I’m joking. I’m fine to drive, and I’m sure you need a break.”

Patrick made a point of relaxing his shoulders, letting them drop. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll pull off at the next exit.”

It was a long time after they switched, after an interminable length of tense silence in the car, that Patrick finally tried to offer a small peace offering. “My mom once told me that all the arguments she and my dad have ever had boil down to the one way they are incompatible. And that fortunately they eventually remember all the many ways they are compatible.”

“How are they incompatible?” David asked.

“I don’t actually remember. Maybe she didn’t tell me. They never fought in front of me that I can remember. I guess they’d bottle it up until they were alone.”

David snorted. “That explains some things about you.”

Patrick inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. “Are we still fighting?”

“A little bit,” David said.

“We’re fighting ‘a little bit’?” Patrick asked, almost laughing even though he could still feel lingering resentment in his bloodstream.

“Yeah. A tiny bit.”

“I’m sorry for yelling.”

“I’m sorry for being a brat,” David said.

“I’m sorry that I insisted on such an early start.”

David reached over and patted his knee. “You don’t have to apologize for that. I need to remember that it makes you less anxious to get an early start.”

“Maybe the next time we have this fight about my inflexibility, you’ll remember that,” Patrick said, sneaking a smile at David.

“Mmm, but you’re inflexible about so many things, honey.”

Patrick’s expression morphed into a glare.

“And I’m bratty about so many things,” David conceded, reaching over again and this time taking Patrick’s hand. And then they weren’t even fighting a little bit. Patrick turned on some music and they sang along most of the rest of the way to the Brewers’ house.

As soon as Patrick had turned off the car in his parent’s driveway, his mother appeared from the front door like she’d been watching for them from the window. He glanced at David with a smile. “She’s missed her favorite son-in-law,” Patrick said, unbuckling his seat belt.

David slapped him gently on the arm. “I’m just window dressing and you know it.”

“Hardly,” Patrick said, getting out of the car to be immediately enveloped in a hug by his mother, then his father. He moved to unload the trunk while David hugged his parents too. An image struck him suddenly, himself in those early days of realizing that he had feelings for David, witnessing this. If he could have known that this was in his future, he could have dispensed with so much of the anxiety that defined the time before he was out to his family. David Rose greeting his parents and chatting easily with them as they moved to help unload the car, a part of his family. A ring on his finger that matched the one on Patrick’s. Sometimes it still felt like a miracle.

Patrick was moving toward the stairs to carry their bags upstairs when his father put a hand on his arm to stop him. “One little snag. We were supposed to have the new bed for the guest room delivered this week, but I got the notice that it had been delayed after your cousin Cheryl already hauled away the old one.”

“So there’s nowhere for us to sleep?” Patrick asked with raised eyebrows.

Clint gestured toward the sofa in the family room. “We’ll make up the sofa bed for you.”

Patrick met David’s eyes. “We can get a hotel room,” he said.

“No, don’t be silly, dear. The sofa bed is plenty comfortable,” Marcy protested. She’d always been the kind of person who considered family staying in a hotel to be a personal failing. The bed mix-up was probably torturing her.

David put a hand on her shoulder, clearly noticing her distress. “The sofa bed will be fine. It’s only three nights,” he said over her head to Patrick.

“You can still put your bags upstairs. Use that room as a changing room,” his dad said.

“Okay,” Patrick said with a shrug.

When he got back downstairs, Marcy and David already had their heads bent over her Easter party to-do list at the kitchen table, David full of suggestions for how to organize the family gathering. Patrick left them to it with an affectionate squeeze on the back of David’s neck, then went over and flopped down on the sofa they were apparently going to be sleeping on later, where he could still keep an eye on the kitchen while resting his aching body after the long hours on the road.

By now, Patrick had come to expect the way visiting his childhood home stirred up a lot of complicated feelings in him. It was like he had come equipped with an antenna that could reach back in time and pick up the frequency of the unhappiness he carried around back then. Or like that unhappiness had infused everything in the house — the walls, the carpets, the drapes — like the cigarette smoke of a long-departed smoker. He liked to think that watching his husband and his parents grow closer was a balm to those old aches, but he wasn’t sure if it was true.

“Did you end up making the butter tarts I sent you the recipe for?” Marcy asked David.

Patrick had let his eyes drift closed, but he imagined he could hear David’s cringing expression. “I did make them, but it wasn’t an unqualified success,” David said.

“They were good,” Patrick called, his eyes still closed. “You’re too much of a perfectionist.”

“Yes, hi. Hello, I’m David Rose, your husband,” David replied. “You should probably take my perfectionism as read at this point, honey.”

“I’m sure they were fine. And the next time you make them, they’ll be even better,” Marcy said.

“I have mastered chicken parmesan, though,” David said, and Patrick could hear the pride in his voice. David had made a few small attempts at cooking in Patrick’s apartment, but now that they had the house, his interest in cooking had really blossomed.

“Well, I wouldn’t say no if you want to cook a meal one of the evenings that you boys are here,” Marcy said in a sweet, teasing voice.

“I can do that if you aren’t afraid to let me loose in your kitchen,” David responded, sounding pleased. Patrick grinned, loving how well his mother and husband got along. Another miracle that he couldn’t have imagined a few years ago.

After an evening of food and conversation and laughter with David and his parents, Patrick eventually found himself making the sofa bed with his mother while David was in the bathroom, probably only on step three of his nine-step skincare regimen by the time they had the sheets on and blankets carefully tucked in at the bottom.

“I’m sorry again about the bed,” his mother said. “I told Clint—”

“Mom, it’s fine,” he said, not really feeling like it was fine, exactly. It was weird, the idea of getting into bed with David in such a public part of the house, where his parents would see them if they came downstairs during the night. And that made him wonder if he’d think it was weird if he were straight and married to a woman, and that made him wonder how much internalized homophobia he was still carrying around.

“Well, thank you for not going to a hotel. I like having you and David here, under our roof.”

A warmth suffused his chest at that. “Thanks, Mom.”

She smirked at him. “But I guess you’ll have to keep things PG, sleeping out here.”

“Mom!” He felt a blush steal over his face. “We weren’t going to be… doing anything not PG in your house.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Hasn’t stopped you before.”

“Oh my god—”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. The walls are kind of thin…”

Patrick buried his face in his hands, remembering a couple of times when they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off of each other here, particularly the first time they visited after they’d gotten married. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” his mother said. “I was glad you were happy.”

“Uh huh.” He raised his head and bravely met her eyes. “Well, we certainly won’t be getting… happy… out here. Also, please don’t tell David that you heard us.”

She laughed. “Okay, I won’t.”

When David joined him under the covers later, Patrick had managed to stop blushing and was thinking again about the fight they’d had that morning, even though it was far in the rear view mirror, both literally and metaphorically. Patrick considered bringing it up again — they hadn’t really resolved anything, and he felt the urge to apologize again. But maybe there was nothing to resolve. It was an incontrovertible fact that he and David were very different in a lot of ways, and there were contrasting aspects of their personalities that were going to scrape against each other sometimes. So instead of trying to relitigate their fight, Patrick exhaled a deep sigh and pulled David close, hugging him.

“I love you,” Patrick said.

“Love you too,” David whispered, hot breath against his neck.

“And I love seeing you here. In this house with my parents. It means so much to me, getting to be here with you.”

“I know.” David rubbed his back with soothing pressure. “I know.”

~*~

Patrick awoke to soft murmur of voices nearby, and to the scent of David’s shampoo. He slowly became aware of his surroundings, of the way David was curled toward him, his head tucked up under Patrick’s chin and an arm slung over his waist on top of the blankets. David had always been a cuddler, at least for as long as Patrick had been sharing a bed with him, and this morning was no different from a hundred other mornings when Patrick had awoken to David clinging to him like a barnacle, making him overheated and sweaty.

Extracting himself, Patrick sat up and rubbed his face. His parents were in the kitchen, only the stove light on in an attempt, he supposed, to keep from waking them. He looked back at his husband, still sound asleep. Well, it worked for one of them, at least.

He shuffled into the kitchen. “Hey.”

“Morning, son,” his dad whispered. “The water in the kettle is still hot.”

“Thanks,” Patrick said, getting a mug down from the cupboard. “You don’t have to whisper. David’s a heavy sleeper.”

“I hope the sofa wasn’t too uncomfortable,” Clint said.

Stretching out his spine, Patrick assessed whether he was feeling any negative after-effects from sleeping on a pull-out sofa. “No, it was fine.”

He looked over at his mother to see her beaming at him.

“What?” Patrick asked as he put a tea bag into his mug.

“Nothing, you just looked very cute snuggled up with your husband.”

Patrick felt his cheeks heat up. “Okay.” This was exactly what had made him anxious, the idea of his parents seeing him and David in an intimate, albeit innocent, moment. He tried to forget that they’d apparently overheard some less innocent moments in the past and focused on making his tea. Still, he couldn’t help the smile that crept over his face at the fact that his mother could look at him in bed with David and call it ‘cute.’ Another miracle to add to the pile since the day he drove past the Schitt’s Creek town sign for the first time.

~*~

Patrick was pulling another tray of mini biscuits out of the oven when his cousin Sara approached him in the midst of the Easter party on Sunday afternoon. She was his father’s older brother’s eldest child, so despite being a first cousin, she was almost fifteen years older than him. They’d been friendly since Patrick had become an adult, but they’d never been particularly close.

“Hey, do you have a minute to talk?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at the closest gaggle of relatives, clustered around the television in the next room. Miraculously, they had the kitchen to themselves for the moment.

“If you can help me put ham on these, sure,” he said. “I’m told the first batch disappeared in record time.”

She chuckled. “I can do that.”

“Is Justin here?” he asked, trying to remember if he’d seen the teenager around the house. “I didn’t see him.”

Sara winced. “He might have holed up in a quiet part of the house so that he didn’t have to be social.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Justin is… he came out to us this year.” Patrick looked up at her, but she was focused intently on the task of cutting the biscuits in half and piling them with sliced ham.

Patrick thought about the kid he’d known a few years ago, before he moved to Schitt’s Creek, quiet and serious even as a young boy. “Came out as… what? How does he identify?”

“Oh. Gay. He’s gay.”

“Okay.” Patrick wasn’t sure what to say. The reason she was telling him was obvious, but he wasn’t sure if he was expected to impart some mystical gay secrets on her. Bless her family with a gay benediction. “Is he only out to you and Mark, or is he out at school?”

“He’s out at school. I think it’s been… I mean, not as rough as it was for my generation by a long shot, but I don’t think it’s been easy. He has good friends who support him, though.”

“That’s good.” Now it was Patrick’s turn to avert his eyes. “I don’t really have any advice about that — I wasn’t even out to myself in high school, much less to anyone else — but David might. Although, admittedly, his high school experience was…” He thought about models in bras and thongs and of salad bowls full of pills. “…unusual.”

“Anyway, I was thinking, maybe it would be good if he had an adult to go to for advice who isn’t me or his dad.”

Patrick tried to put himself in Justin’s shoes. If he’d been out in high school, would he have been willing to go to an older cousin who was also gay for advice? One that he wasn’t all that close to? He doubted it.

“I haven’t really talked much to Justin in the last few years, though. I don’t know if he would trust me as a confidante.” Patrick said.

“Maybe not, but can we try?” Sara had finished assembling the ham biscuits, and she went over to the sink to wash her hands. “I’m doing my best with the whole talking-about-sex thing, but no one wants to hear that stuff from their mother. And I don’t want him relying on his friends for that. Or learning about it from porn.”

Patrick’s eyes widened. He’d thought that one of the advantages of not having any kids of his own was going to be that he’d never have to have an awkward sex talk with a teenager. “I don’t think he’s gonna want to hear it from me either. As far as porn goes, he’s probably going to look at it regardless, or already is, so you should talk to him about that, that it’s not realistic—”

“I know. I have. But still—”

“I can send you some book recommendations, though. Or links to actual reliable stuff on the internet. Things that you can pass on to him that he can read on his own.”

She was visibly disappointed by that answer. “Okay. Thanks.”

He sighed. “And I can talk to him today,” he conceded. “And give him my number if he wants to text.”

Her shoulders dropped in relief, and she hugged him. “Thank you. I want him to have someone to talk to who… maybe knows what he’s going through. Or what he might face.”

Patrick picked up the serving platter of biscuits, still uncomfortable with the responsibility he was being shouldered with, but resigned to it. “I mean, I married the first guy I dated, so my experience is not… broad? But I’ll do my best.”

Sara bulldozed ahead, unphased by that admission. “And you can keep his confidence unless you think his safety is at risk. I don’t expect you to report back to me on… whatever he talks to you about.”

The weight of responsibility got measurably heavier. “Okay.”

He took the platter back out to the dining room, where a literal smorgasbord of foods were arrayed for people to help themselves to. David was standing next to the potato salad, putting some only his already full plate. “Hey,” Patrick said.

David smiled at him. “There you are. I have now learned a very interesting and disgusting story about you from Dennis involving a two liter bottle of Coke and a drive to Winnipeg.”

Patrick groaned. “Dennis needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.” He picked up a paper plate, planning to help himself to some food of his own. “I, meanwhile, was just asked to counsel a…” He glanced around and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Gay teenager.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Patrick indicated the back door with his chin, and he followed David out onto the deck once his plate was loaded up. They walked over to stand at the corner of the house away from the crowd in the backyard. “My cousin Sara’s seventeen-year-old son came out as gay to his family, and Sara wants me to be his… queer role model, I guess. Or maybe talk to him about sex? I’m not entirely clear.”

“That’s adorable,” David said. “And horrifying.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, good luck with that,” David said, making his way over to one of the tables they’d set up in the yard that morning.

“That’s all I get from you?” Patrick whined, following him. “‘Good luck with that’?”

David sat down at the table between Marcy and another of Patrick’s cousins, giving his husband a simpering smile. “I’m sure you’ll do great, honey.”

Patrick rolled his eyes, finding a seat on the other side of the table. “Thanks,” he muttered.

After lunch, Patrick went looking for Justin, finally tracking him down in his parent’s office, curled up in the desk chair and reading on his phone. Patrick waved, and Justin pulled some earbuds out of his ears.

“Hey,” Justin said, looking wary.

“Hey.” Patrick rocked on his heels, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Please tell me your mom mentioned to you that she was gonna talk to me.”

Justin sighed heavily. “No offense, but I was hoping she wouldn’t. Not that I care if you know I’m gay, just…”

“You don’t need a cousin that you haven’t talked to in a while trying to it-gets-better you at a family party?”

Justin laughed. “Yeah.”

“I get it. I probably wouldn’t want that either, if I were you.” Patrick shrugged. “We don’t have to talk right now. Or ever, if you don’t need to. But… maybe if something comes up in the future that you have questions about, you can text me? It might be… comforting, actually, that we aren’t close. That you don’t have to look at me across the dinner table like you do your parents. Easier to ask me embarrassing or personal questions that way. With that distance.”

Patrick could see the moment the idea really fully registered in Justin’s mind, his eyes widening a little bit. Then his mask of teenage apathy slipped back into place. “Okay. Give me your phone,” he said, holding out his hand.

Pulling his phone from his pocket and unlocking it, Patrick handed it over, then watched as Justin entered his number and then texted himself from Patrick’s phone.

“I mean,” he said, handing the phone back, “you’ll still tell my mom whatever I say.”

It was a test, but fortunately Sara had already given Patrick the answer key. “Only if you’re unsafe. Other than that, I won’t tell her what you talk to me about.”

Justin shrugged like he didn’t care, but Patrick suspected that maybe he did care a little bit. Patrick put his hands back in his pockets. “Is there anything you want to… Right now, is there—”

“Nope,” Justin said, his cheeks reddening. “But thanks for your number.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Again, Patrick fretted that there were some wise words, some summation of the gay experience he should be able to speak aloud. His mind was blank. “So… I’ll just…” He pointed back toward the door with his thumb. “See you around?”

“Uh huh,” Justin said, looking back at his phone.

“Okay. Well, okay,” Patrick said, leaving him to it.

Later, David asked him how it went, and in answer, Patrick showed him his cousin’s contact in his phone, which Justin had added with a little rainbow emoji next to the name. “Cuuute,” David said in that slightly patronizing way he had.

Patrick shrugged. “I doubt he’ll ever text me, but he’s got the option.”

~*~

He was still thinking about Justin a few days later when they were back home, still wondering if he would be able to live up to whatever Sara expected him to do. So when he arrived a few minutes early for a council meeting to find only Ronnie at her desk in town hall, he told her the story. If she thought he wasn’t up to the job of advising a queer kid, she wouldn’t pull her punches.

“I’m not sure if I should do anything now, or if him having my number is enough.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Does it feel like enough?”

“I don’t know, Ronnie!” he said, throwing up his hands. “No, it doesn’t, but I also don’t really see myself texting him and asking if he’s being safe and using condoms, or… or whatever my cousin Sara is envisioning.”

“Well yeah, not at this point, not unless you want to come off as a creep.”

“Exactly.”

“But there’s more to this kid’s life than his sexual orientation, just like there’s more to your life than yours. And you said you didn’t know him that well. So why not try to get to know him better. Let him get to know you better. That way if he ever does need your help — which, I agree, he could do better than you — then he won’t be afraid to ask for it.”

Patrick ignored the dig, because there was actually some good advice in there. “That’s smart.”

“Well, you don’t have to sound surprised, Patrick,” Ronnie said with narrowed eyes.

“I didn’t! You’re smarter than all of us, Ronnie.”

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Now you’re patronizing me.”

“What I’m doing is being reminded that I can’t win with you, that’s what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Then as Roland and Bob came in, she added, “Good luck with it.”

(Chapter 3)

[nisaeiam]

Timeless - an ACOTAR fanfic

After spending her entire life in Cretea, Zivia finds herself in the company of the Night Court, sent as an emissary to help after the war. As she navigates her way outside her once secluded life, she develops unlikely bonds with the people around her - especially with the one wreathed in shadows.

PROLOGUE, CHAPTER 1, CHAPTER 2, CHAPTER 3, , CHAPTER 5, CHAPTER 6, CHAPTER 7, CHAPTER 8

Also posted on ff HERE

CHAPTER IX

The clouds covering the moon parted, illuminating them as they stood back to back at the center of the clearing. Zivia tried summoning her powers but to no avail and she felt Azriel tense behind her, probably doing the same.

There were more than a dozen of them scattered around. She felt for the dagger strapped on her thighs. No illusions could hide them now. They could make a run for it, but who knew how many more of them were there, staying hidden among the shadows of the trees. And flying was totally out of their option as it would make them an easy target. They could end up tattered in arrows before they could even reach a safe distance.

So they did nothing.

They couldn't harm these people, not if they were going to vie for their trust. They have to get out of this situation in the most non-aggressive way possible.

"It's okay," she said to no one in particular. "We bring no ill intentions. We won't do anything to you."

Silence.

"We come in peace," she tried again, taking a single step forward.

An arrow bolted through from somewhere among the bushes, missing her by a few inches.

"Doesn't seem like they can be reasoned with," muttered Azriel as he unsheathed his weapon as well.

At the same time, they leaped from where they were standing and barreled towards the trees. Arrows rained down on them but they were quick. Their powers may be gone but the heightened abilities of being a faerie were still there. As her eyes adjusted, she spotted a man hidden among the tree trunks to her right. She hurtled her dagger at him before he could nock another arrow. Her knife hit him on his chest, hard enough that he stumbled back but not enough to kill him. She went to retrieve her dagger then struck him with its hilt to knock him out.

A pain tore through her left calf and she turned to see the brute bald man from the tavern, weapons on his hands.

"I knew I wasn't just seeing things," he hissed as he threw another knife at her. She caught it easily with her hands.

"What? Still bitter about being rejected?"

"I'm going to kill you!"

The man lunged at her with all his might, but it was apparent that he wasn't used to fighting. He made so many unnecessary movements and was unsteady on his feet that it took her less than a minute to take him down.

Another group of men appeared before she could restrain him. One of them swung his sword at her and she leaped backwards, lifting her dagger just in time to deflect another attack from behind. Another one joined then another until there were ten of them in the fight. They circled her with their weapons drawn and pointed at her.

"My, my. What's a female to do when surrounded by all these men?" she said with a serious expression on her face.

"Monster!" shouted one of them and they all fell upon her.

She took every blow defensively and attacked with caution so as not to fatally injure any of them. It took longer than she expected to take them all down. Her skill was more effective when used in full force and holding back made her slower.

"You're all murderers."

The bald man was slumped against a tree, cowering in fear. He was looking at her with undiluted hatred in his eyes. "Monsters! I hope they killed your brother!"

Brother?

It took her a few seconds to process what he said. Shit.

They were separated at some point but she didn't notice as she was busy fighting off these men that she totally forgot about Azriel. She frantically looked around for any sign of him when a scream cut through the air, she hastened to where the sound came from and found about a hundred men surrounding a visibly tired Azriel, who was holding a man by the throat. A dozen bodies lay unmoving at his feet.

She cursed herself again. These people laid out a trap and they fell right into it. It was probably the information they got from the baron's son that led them to believe that he was the only faerie between the two of them. She wasn't sure what led them to that conclusion but to hell with that now. As she fought with their initial force, Azriel was lured away into a larger group of men that were waiting to ambush him. Nobody made it to inform them of the other fae in their midst.

She hurtled her daggers to the man closest to the shadowsinger. His head whipped to her a fraction earlier than those surrounding him and as their attention turned to her, he took the opportunity to take down some of them. Everything erupted to chaos as they all scrambled to decide who is going to attack who. During an exchange of blows with a lanky guy holding a spear, she felt a faint dab of her powers returning. She shoved her opponent out of the way and reached out her hand, taking hold of the air around them – then pulled. The men collapsed to the ground as one, going utterly limp. The entirety of her magic hasn't returned yet and she buckled by the force of that maneuver.

"Zivia!" blurted Azriel and ran towards her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She gulped. "Just a little worn out."

He helped her onto her feet and as they stood next to each other, she realized that he was also panting.

"They aren't dead, are they?" He turned towards the swarm of bodies covering the forest floor.

"No, just passed out. I pulled the air from their lungs. They'll be down for the rest of the night." A man at her feet grunted and she kicked him hard in the stomach. "At least most of them will. How are you?"

"Fine. A few scratches here and there." His black wings rustled a bit when he sheathed his weapon back onto his back. "I actually find it harder to fight when you have no intention to kill."

"Uh-uh," she agreed, brushing off the twigs that were caught in her hair when she ran through the woods looking for him. "We should get out of here."

They went back to the cave to tend to their wounds and gather their remaining supplies before continuing on with their journey. By the time they left the cave, the effects of the faebane has entirely worn out and they traveled the rest of the way concealed in Azriel's shadows. At the crack of dawn, Zivia made sure to make the necessary changes in their appearance as she cast their illusion, just in case those men came looking for them again and they risk being recognized. Thankfully, they were able to reach the city of trades without any problem. Furthermore, they found a dealer who was willing to give them a ride into his carriage that will take them to Liria.

"Let me get this right," said Azriel when the merchant was gone to pack more supplies and they were left tending to his carriage. "I am to act as if you're my daughter?"

It was so hard not to laugh at his reaction. The first time he found out was when they were asking around the dealers and she introduced him as her father. His head whipped to her and looked as if saying, what did you just say?

"Word's already gotten out that a pair of fae siblings were on a rampage around the Continent after somebody found the bodies on the mountain pass last night."

"We could have passed as cousins."

"No. can. Do." She muttered in time as she tightened the reins on the horses. "They'll know that we're just the same age – or at least close to each other's age. They're going to suspect nonetheless."

"Humans aren't that gullible."

"Clearly you haven't been with them for a long time. They can be too smart for their own good."

"Alright, but why am I the father?"

She craned her neck to look at him over the carriage. "You should've told me that. I would have loved to dote on you as my son."

He made a subtle gesture that can normally be considered an eye roll and continued strapping the loads into the cart. After finishing with the horses, she rounded the wagon to help him.

"Not to worry, you still look good as an old man." she teased as they both lifted a particularly heavy box.

"First, I was your brother, now I am your father. So what's it going to be next huh?"

"Well who knows, I might become your wife ne – " Good Mother above.

His brows shot up as he turned to her.

"Of course I was just kidding, hah!" She feigned nonchalance but the words came out of her mouth a little shaky and rushed. Avoiding his stare, she pointed towards the storehouses. "I'm going to look if he's gonna need some help." Then darted to where the merchant has gone off to, all the while cursing at herself.

An hour before noon, they were finally able to pack all the items and hit the road. It was a tight fit for both of them inside the carriage but they were able to manage. Thankfully, there weren't many goods around to make it uncomfortable enough to not sit. When they both settled, Azriel gave her a slice of bread and some bananas. She hesitantly took them from him, not because she doesn't want them but because she completely forgot about her hunger.

"Don't worry," said Azriel, noticing her hesitance. "I made sure they're safe."

She met his gaze and gave a sly smile before taking a bite off the bread.

Their journey was punctuated by occasional stops at some towns to either deliver supplies or to get something to eat. Azriel took it upon himself to test the foods they were getting before deeming it safe to eat.

"It's better this way," he reasoned when she insisted that he didn't have to do it and that they could take turns in testing the foods. "You're holding our illusion intact. It would be trouble if we lose that. Besides, concealing us both in shadows definitely wouldn't work."

"What if somebody attacked us?"

"Then I'd feel sorry for them."

She eyed him. "I am not as strong as you, you know."

"No." he just shrugged. "I think you're stronger."

She couldn't tell whether he was complimenting or mocking her, but she struggled for a response and her blushing was apparent nonetheless. "I think we should have a match when this is all over."

He just inclined his head at her before walking back to the carriage.

**********

It took them five days to reach the border of Liria. They were on their way to the capital when the carriage halted so suddenly they fell upon each other.

"What the – " Zivia braced her hands on either side of him to steady herself, accidentally pressing on his wings. He let out a small gasp and went still at the contact, instinctively grabbing her arms and gently helped her up before pushing himself back into a sitting position.

"Sorry," she apologized as she tried to peek outside. "Why did we stop?"

They heard shuffling outside and a gruff voice flowed through the wagon. "…request that all carriages stop at this point…"

The flap of the tent was suddenly opened and two men who appeared to be wearing guard uniforms greeted them they stared at each other for a moment before she lifted her hand and gave an awkward wave. "Hello."

One of them furrowed his brows in confusion before gesturing to both of them. "Get out." They obeyed the order and carefully stepped out, mindful of each movement so as not to accidentally touch them with their wings, albeit concealed. Standing side by side, the two guards eyed them up and down as if trying to see through their illusion.

"Ah yes, they're travelling with me." The merchant was pointing towards them from where he was being questioned by another sentry.

"We joined a ride with him to visit a relative here," Zivia added. She looked around and noticed that it was not just them but a few other travelers as well were stopped. Reaching a hand to her chest, she looked at one of the guards with all the wariness she could muster. "Is there something going on? Are – are the rumors true? They are really here among us?"

The man just clicked his tongue and gave her an annoyed look. The other mumbled something under his breath, low enough that his companion didn't quite catch it but just enough for her fae hearing to know that it was a rather lovely swear word.

The man with the merchant, who is clearly higher-ranked than the other two, stepped forward and declared "No need to worry. This is just a part of temporarily increased security protocols between borders. Orders were given to inspect all inbound trade-carrying carriages to the capital."

She and Azriel exchanged a look.

"I understand but my goods, I have to deliver them," the merchant protested.

"As soon as we finish checking, you'll be good to go." He gestured to his subordinates and one of them went to examine the contents of the cart. He then turned towards them. "As for the two of you, you were to visit a relative you say?"

"Yes." They both said at the same time.

"It's my aunt," Zivia quickly added, hoping to cover their blunder. "She is my father's cousin."

The man turned to Azriel. "And your cousin lives here?"

"Yes."

Zivia resisted the urge to jab him on his side for giving such a deadpan answer.

"And you're from where?"

"Scythia"

The words were out of her mouth before she even realized her mistake. She looked at the shadowsinger but he remained expressionless and focused on the man before him.

"Scythia? That's on the western side of Liria. Shouldn't you be coming from the other side of the city?"

Damn it.

"We went to visit another relative." Azriel countered.

There was a long pause. They were becoming more suspicious with their every answer and it appears that they were not letting them go that easily. Behind the officer, she noticed that the other guard has finished inspecting the goods. She has to act quickly.

"It seems that you have relatives across the continent huh?" There's a noticeable edge in the sentry's voice as he took a step closer to Azriel and she felt the Illyrian shift slightly, almost as if challenging the man, "We do."

At the corner of her vision, she saw the guard behind them slowly reach for his belt.

"Oh I remember you!" the merchant's squeaky voice tore through the building tension and they all looked at him. "You once rode with me to this city when I was doing trades with Scythia before. Yes yes, you were that same girl back then."

The guard stared at him for a moment before looking back at Zivia, contemplating whether to believe the man or not.

"I think it was three or four years ago? My you've grown!"

She gave a wide-toothed smile to the merchant just as the inspecting guard went over to them and gave an approving nod to his superior. The officer took one last look at them, his gaze lingering on Azriel, before finally giving them the signal to go. As soon as the three men were gone to check on the others, she felt him relax. They thanked the merchant and bid him farewell before going on their way.

"He will be a bit dazed for some time, but he'll be fine I guess," Zivia murmured as she looked back at the carriage which was now disappearing into the distance. She let out a long sigh before adding, "I'm not used to glamouring people, but I just had to do it."

"Smart move I'd say."

"Well, I didn't have to resort to it if not for you."

The shadowsinger's face remained placid but she felt that very slight change in the air around him. He started walking and she followed behind.

"I'm at fault here too but your illusion is becoming a bit questionable. You're my father, for Cauldron's sake. You should act more like how an aged human would normally be." Finally catching up to him, she did her best imitation of his voice and accent, "'We went to visit another relative'. You sounded like you were threatening him."

"I don't speak like that."

"Yes you do." Again mimicking him. "You even have this habit of narrowing your eyes slightly whenever you're trying to make a point to someone."

He stopped walking and looked at her, clearly irked by her subtle teasing.

"Ah. There it is." She just shrugged back and continued on backwards, facing him as she walked. "What I'm saying is maybe you should loosen up a bit, you know. Act more like an old man – "

"I am old."

"An old human."

A group of guards passed by, marching towards the south western path were a considerable amount of people were headed to. Zivia looked at him and grinned.

"I have a good guess that's where the meeting is going to take place."

[whimsicaldragonette]

Just Harry (Drarry Post-war Muggle University AU)

Harry bounced lightly on his toes as he waited in the line marked new student check-in. He hadn’t felt this excited about anything in years. He could almost taste the possibility floating in the air, along with the scents of a dozen mingled body sprays and nervous sweat. The Student Union was bright and cheery; the white and green walls looked freshly painted, and sunlight streamed in through the large windows overlooking the lawn. It was all so fresh and new and exciting!

The line moved forward, and Harry felt his nervous excitement tick up a notch. There was only one student in front of him now, a bored-looking girl with bright blue hair and a slew of silver piercings. Soon she’d wandered off toward the vending machines, welcome packet dangling from her fingers, and Harry stepped nervously up to the desk.

“Um,” he said, smiling at the cheerful blonde girl looking up at him. “Hi. I was told this is where I find out about my roommate and… stuff?” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as her blue eyes crinkled up into a smile.

“Don’t worry,” she said, laughing. “I don’t bite. You’re in the right place. Name?”

“Harry Potter.”

She nodded and rifled through her drawer, and Harry had to stifle a nervous giggle. He still got the oddest sensation when people didn’t recognize him: a sort of swooping-soaring-sinking feeling in his stomach. He hoped he’d get used to it soon, or else he’d never be able to eat anything.

“Ah, here we go” she said, dragging his thoughts away from how horrid it had been, after the end of the war, when everyone recognized him and no one would give him a moment’s peace. It was over now. Hermione had gotten him what he’d always wanted — a fresh start where no one knew his name.

He blinked as he realized the girl was saying his name. “Ah, sorry. It all feels so unreal, still.”

She nodded sympathetically. “Don’t worry. That feeling will fade soon enough. Now here’s your class schedule, and here’s the important dates to remember - those circled in blue are the last days to change things. Some information on our food plans, oh, here’s how to get a library card…” She kept talking, piling papers and folders into his hands, and he felt his eyes glazing over. “And here’s your dorm room and keycard. It looks like your roommate is already here. His name is on your change request form there, though it’s best to avoid requesting a new roommate until you’ve worked through the conflict resolution strategies — those are in that brochure there — and…”

“Thank you,” Harry said, smiling and pretending he wasn’t completely overwhelmed. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” He shoved the papers in with the others, not bothering to look at the name. He wouldn’t recognize it, so it didn’t seem like there was much point. “Which way is my room? I’m awfully tired — the trip here was longer than I expected.”

She nodded understandingly (even though she had no idea he’d meant the hassles of international Portkey travel) and pointed. “You’ll be in that dorm there. Just head outside and turn left. It’s the second building. It looks like you’re on the third floor, in the east wing” she said, checking another folder. “Do you think you can find it or should I find a runner to take you there?” She looked around, frowning, and Harry guessed that the runners were probably all busy.

“No, it’s fine, I’m sure I can find it. Thanks!” He smiled at her again, automatically using his “publicity smile,” as Hermione called it. She smiled back at him, wrinkling her freckled nose attractively, and he awkwardly tried to wave before remembering that his hands were full of papers. He fumbled them for a moment, face heating, and then quickly walked away, ducking his head in embarrassment. Undone by a pretty girl — and he didn’t even like girls. Well, not much, anyway. He mentally shied away from Hermione’s latest lecture: Bisexuality is a thing, Harry, and glanced down at his keycard. Room 317, Cedar Hall. Right. He could do this.

He found the room easily enough, and the keycard worked on the first try, thank Merlin, and he walked in to see his roommate rummaging about in a pile of boxes. His lanky form and platinum-blonde hair were instantly familiar and he flinched, feeling it like a punch straight to his gut. It couldn’t be. Could it?

It could.

Don’t turn around, Harry thought frantically, even though logically he knew they couldn’t go an entire semester without looking at one another. I’ll just go and ask for a roommate change. Or—

“Why, hello, roomie,” Malfoy drawled, as he began to turn around. “You’re a bit late, aren’t you. Are you —no.” The book he’d been rummaging for slipped from his fingers as he stared, openmouthed, shocked speechless for the first time in all the years Harry had known him. “Fuck no,” he managed after a moment, still staring blankly. His eyes were shadowed, and the cheerful smile he’d worn when Harry had first arrived was now replaced with one that looked strained, and a bit hunted.

Harry hated that smile. It didn’t look right on Malfoy’s aristocratic features. “Thanks a lot, Malfoy,” he said, forcing his voice to sound light. “Good to see you, too.”

“I was trying to get away from all that!” Malfoy exclaimed, face flushing. “From you,” he added, so quietly Harry had to strain to hear.

“From me?” he asked, somehow needing to hear him say it. “Why? Did you think I’d mock you Malfoy? Call in that life-debt? What?” His voice came out sounding hurt, and he realized that he meant it. He really was hurt that Malfoy would think that of him.

“No.” Malfoy grit out.

“Then why?”

Malfoy let the silence drag on until Harry didn’t think he could bear it any longer, and then he exploded. “I owe you for every scrap of dignity I managed to retain, Potter. I didn’t want to live beholden to you. With the constant reminders of how you are good and wonderful and everything I am not. Could never be. Of how much I owe you that I can never hope to repay!” He stopped, panting, staring defiantly at Harry for a moment and then looking away.

Harry felt off-balance, like he was just too slow to understand what was going on. “Yeah, well,” he said quietly, slumping back against the door. “I ran away from me, too, then.”

“I hated it,” he went on, when Malfoy didn’t say anything. “The fame, the arse-kissing. They wanted to make me Head Auror, did you know? Hell, some of them wanted to make me Minister of Magic. Me, Malfoy. I had to get out of there.” He stared down at the floor, letting the words fall from his lips like stones into a pool, wondering what would happen when the ripples reached Malfoy, poised for flight on the other side of the small room. “I needed a chance to leave all that ‘chosen one’ crap behind and just be Harry. Just Harry.”

He looked at Malfoy, then, in time to see his mouth twitch up into a tiny smirk. “Well, Just Harry,” he said after a moment, “Welcome to our humble dorm.” He spread his arms wide. “Within these walls you will find no arse-kissing, I can promise you that, if nothing else.”

Harry grinned. “Excellent.” He extended his hand. “Friends? I’ve been told it’s important to choose the right ones from the start.”

Malfoy stared for a moment, shocked, and then smirked and shook his hand firmly. “Very well, Just Harry. My name is Draco. Now what say we go mingle?”

Harry shuddered. “Must we?”

Malfoy — Draco — rolled his eyes. “Yes, Potter. Mingling is vital in any new situation. Especially this one.”

Harry grimaced. “I hate mingling,” he groused.

“Well, then,” Malfoy said, with a smug grin, “no one has taught you to mingle properly.”

“Whatever you say, Malfoy,” Harry sighed, having a sneaking suspicion of how most of their arguments were going to go. He let Malfoy lead him from the room, pausing only to toss his papers on the empty desk. Maybe he wouldn’t need that change request form after all.

I don’t know if I want to continue this or not, you guys. Whaddya think? OK, so overwhelmingly continue. Got it. XD Anybody who wants to be tagged in follow-up posts either comment on this post or send me an ask. 

Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Epilogue

Also on AO3, FF, Wattpad

[magicalfantaesies]

Dangerously In Love // Bts/Got7 ff {Ch.1 pt1}

Sooo, i wrote this trash. And if you like said trash, I'll continue 🙂.

----

Boom, Boom, Boom!

Min Yoongi's eyelids flickered but did not open.

Boom, CLANK, CLATTER!

His eyes instantly opening, he sighed loudly in irritation. What the fuck. That was his first thought on his first morning in his new house.

*Flashback 2 weeks ago*

"Pleeease," Hoseok whined for the 30th time, waving the paper at Yoongi. The older boy didn't even look up. "HELL NO,". Pouting, Hoseok threw himself into the rolling chair beside him. "You didn't even consider it," he mumbled.

He was saddened at his hyung's reply. He needed everyone to sign the paper in order to participate in the new project. The Housemate Project was started to help kpop groups bond with each other and form friendships. They lived together for a 1 year period, had a debut as one whole group, and had a tour in the last few months. It was something several groups were signing up for, vying for a chance to be with groups they looked up to. Hoseok thought the idea was too fun to pass up and had managed to convince everyone except the boy he sat in front of.

He took a deep breath. Fine Yoongi. I know exactly how to get you. He pushed his face between Yoongi's slouched figure and the disorganized desk. Mustering the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes he could manage, Hoseok wrapped his arms around Yoongi's neck, pulling him close. "Hyuuung~" he whined, eyes seeming to sparkle as he looked at Yoongi. There were only two things in this world that the older man had as a weakness: his crush and his best friend, Hoseok being the latter.

Yoongi groans in irritation, pushing Hoseok off of him and onto the floor. He knows the boy won't stop asking until he agrees, having been at this for weeks. He furiously scribbled his signature on the paper handed to him then dropped it in Hoseok's lap. "THERE. NOW LEAVE ME ALONE!!" he yelled. Hoseok grabbed the paper and shot out the door before Yoongi could change his mind, yelling a "THANK YOU!" down the hall. Sighing, the older boy questioned exactly what he had just gotten himself into.

*In the Got7 residence*

"No," Mark said as he turned away from the young boy. "Oh, COME ON" BamBam whined dramatically. "There are enough idiots here, I seriously can't handle anymore,"Mark said with a yawn. "But hyung, PLEASE," the boy begged again. Pausing and laying on his back, Mark looked up at BamBam. "I know exactly why you're doing this,".

BamBam's eyes flickered away and he blushed. "What do you mean?". "Let me ask you, who was the group you were going to suggest we partner with? BTS?" he asked. BamBam's blush deepened and he stumbled over his words.

Mark chuckled knowing exactly what was running through his head. "You know what?," he took the paper and scribbled on it, "Go for it Bam,". He ruffled the boy's hair and turned out the light. When BamBam walked out of the room, he sighed.

One step closer.

*Yesterday*

"Are you fucking kidding me" Yoongi said, angrily.

"Yoongi, watch your language" Jin said calmly, paying more attention to the small tatter that had appeared in Jungkook's sweater. Both groups were all gathered in the large, lavishly furnished living room in their new condo. It was large and expensive, and overlooked the ocean through big, stainless, glass windows from the living room. They had only brought suitcases and bags full of clothes and other personal items. The home had already been well decorated, and even stocked with the largest refrigerator they had ever seen and several cleaning supplies.

"Yes, seriously, we have to share rooms. There are only 7 rooms, and 14 of us..," Jinyoung said impatiently. "If you guys don't all ready have preferences, I'm going to randomly group you guys together,".

"Okay," he said when they had finished, "so the roommates are:

Jungkook & BamBam in Room 1

Yoongi & Jimin in Room 2

Taehyung & Hoseok in Room 3

and Youngjae & Yugeom in Room 4 on the left side of the hall

Me & Jaebum in Room 5

Jin & Namjoon in Room 6

and Mark & Jackson in Room 7 on the right side of the hall.

Any questions?".

Everyone shook their heads. "Good, everybody let's unpack,".

*Flashback end*

Yoongi glanced at the clock. 9:32. He angrily threw back the covers and trudged downstairs to find Jinyoung and Jin cooking breakfast. Most of the others were around the table stuffing their mouths and chatting loudly. "Hey! Why the hell are you guys so loud? Not everyone gets up this early!" he yelled, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere.

Everyone looked at him. "Actually we're not early, you're just sleeping in," Jackson said in a matter-of-fact tone. Yoongi glared at him and he held up his hands in a surrender motion. "Yoongi, since you're awake now, go wash up then come down for breakfast," Jin said. Yoongi rolled his eyes but did as he was told. Jin looked around the table. The only people not awake were BamBam and Youngjae. So when Jin mentioned this to Jinyoung, he said "Jackson, go wake BamBam and Youngjae,".

Jackson stopped mid-bite and looked up in irritation. "Why do I have to go get them? They're your 'children' !". Jinyoung slowly turned and stared at Jackson calmly. "I mean.... of course! I'll go get them right now!" he said running out of the room.

Jackson trudged upstairs, stopped in front of BamBam's room, pausing before opening the door. Who would be hardest to wake up?

Definately Youngjae.

So BamBam would go first. He knocked on the door then entered when he didn't recieve a response. The room was ice cold and BamBam was bundled underneath the covers, snoring. "BamBam," he said shaking him. The boy grunted, turning away from his hyung.

"Dude, get up. My food's gonna get cold," Jackson whined pulling at the covers. BamBam groaned, snuggling deeper into the covers that already swallowed him. Jackson shook him repeatedly until he got annoyed, snatched the covers all the way off the bed, and smacked BamBam's leg. "Oww, what the fuck ?!" BamBam yelled sitting up. "What a rude way to wake someone up," he grumbled.

Jackson just walked out of the room and two doors down to Youngjae and Yoongi's room. He sighed deeply. Please let him wake up quickly. He tried shaking Youngjae.

Nope.

He tried yelling.

Nope.

He tried jumping on him and screaming. Youngjae just pushed him on the floor and rolled over. So Jackson snatched off his covers and pulled him out of the bed. Youngjae groaned. "Jackson hyung~ leave me alone,".

"Jinyoung says get up. You know he'll come up here if you don't come down," he warned the younger boy. Youngjae grunted and shuffled over to the shower.

**5 minutes later**

Jungkook watched his hyungs in disgust. Namjoon and Jin were feeding each other, the love between them sicking (but still cute). Mark was enduring was a similar situation. Jinyoung was wiping the syrup from Jaebum's chin when they began cooing and shooting heart eyes at each other. "God, you guys are sickening," Jungkook said turning up his nose. BamBam added by making a gagging sound, causing Jinyoung to glare at him.

"They're always like this," Mark mumbled. "I could tell you so many disgusting stories about them. Like that one time when he discovered Jinyoung has a choking kink,". He cringed at the thought. A furious blush appeared on Jinyoung's face. "Mark. I'm gonna kill you later," he stated calmly.

"You think THAT'S bad," Taehyung said shoving eggs into his mouth, "you should have been around on Valentine's Day,". Everyone in Bangtan groaned except for the couple. "What happened?" Jackson asked. "KIM TAEHYUNG DON'T YOU DA-". Jin's words were cut off when Taehyung yelled, "JIN HYUNG WAS BEING SPANKED BY NAMJOON HYUNG IN A NURSE UNIFORM,".

Jin's fork fell from his hand, clattering against the plate. Yoongi cackled seeing the look on his "parent's" face. Jin hurriedly stood, put Taehyung in a choke hold and dragged him out of the room. Everyone ignored the screams that followed shortly. "I've got something way worse. I walked in on them-" Jackson gestured to Jinyoung and Jaebum, "ACTUALLY HAVING SEX. And let me tell you-". His words were cut off by a grape launching into his throat. Jinyoung smirked obviously pleased with what he had done. "MOM!" Youngjae gasped at his hyung's actions.

When Mark finally helped Jackson stop choking, he picked up a strawberry and hit Jinyoung in the eye. "You tried to kill my boyfriend!". Jin and Taehyung returned and everyone continued to laugh, tell embarrassing stories, and throw fruit (much to Jin's dismay). "Why are we friends with these people?" Jungkook whispered to BamBam. He shrugged, shaking his head. "I wondered that even before we started this,".

-----

I wrote this on Wattpad and some of the chapters are too long for Tumblr so I'll have to do chapter parts ig ㄟ(ツ)ㄏ

[unfolded73]

Take Me Away with You (1/2) - millian ff

My take on Milah and Killian’s early days. This part ~5k words. Rated Explicit.

This fic includes descriptions of alcohol abuse, depression, and suicidal thoughts. It arose out of a desire to write about Milah's state of mind when she left Rumple and Bae, so she's in a very dark place. I’m also picturing Killian as the young man he would have been at this point and not quite the way Colin looked in flashbacks.

If you’re reading this on mobile, I apologize for the wacky line spacing. Feel free to go read on ao3 and then come back and reblog here. :)

~~~~~~~~~

“Take me away with you.” All it took were five simple words to change her life forever. Five words she spoke on impulse with no foresight, no planning. Five words that tilted the whole world on its axis, although no one knew that then. Least of all her.

~*~

Sometimes Milah tried to tell herself that she had loved Rumpelstiltskin once: that her love had died on the vine because of the shame he brought down on them and the financial hardship that followed. But in her more honest moments, even before Killian Jones awoke her frozen heart, she knew that wasn’t true. The fact was, she had probably never loved him. Liked him, yes. Thought he’d be a decent father, yes. Thought he’d provide an exit from the home where her father drank too much and hit her, well, that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? A woman desperate for escape can’t always be choosy about the mechanism of that escape. Rumpelstiltskin was her escape.

She’d never been someone who could keep her feelings from being written clearly across her face. She could barely keep them from spilling out of her mouth most of the time. Alone in their tiny hut, Rumpelstiltskin out trying to sell his wool or begging for scraps to keep them fed, she would put the baby down for a nap and then collapse on her own bed, her teeth clenched tight as if to try to trap in the words. But it wasn’t invective against her husband that she muttered into her pillow, tears leaking from her eyes.

“I hate myself,” she’d whisper in those moments, wishing she could wail it at the top of her lungs. Imagining finding a high cliff and hurling herself from the edge of it. “I hate myself.”

Then Rumple would come home with a meager few coins or a loaf of stale bread, and the self-loathing monster she carried would wheel around and lash out in his direction, perhaps just for a change of pace. “How can we go on living like this?” she’d ask. “How can you be so useless?”

Milah’s days dragged on as her baby grew into a boy, her box of paints and charcoals shoved in a corner for longer and longer stretches. Most of the time she felt like she was wading through treacle, constantly tired, returning to bed at even the slightest hint of illness. She had traced the wood grain of the wall next to her bed so many times with her fingernail that the softer wood was eroding. It left a slight indentation, giving the natural grain a three-dimensional structure. The artist in her appreciated it, even if it was evidence of her boredom and discontent.

Bae had the limitless energy of the young, and only his childlike innocence and wonder were capable of raising her from her mental stupor during that time. She would walk down to the pond with Baelfire’s small hand clutching her own and sit on the bank, watching as he stood in the shallows and tried to catch darting minnows in his fists. Those were the good days, when warm sunshine burned away the cobwebs from her brain, and she could recognize that she’d done at least one good thing in her life, bringing this child into the world. On days like those, she thought she might even want another baby, if only they could manage to scrape enough money together that another mouth to feed wouldn’t be too burdensome.

That was before Rumple sold away their potential second child, which was the beginning of the end. That was before she met Killian.

Even in the midst of her desperate worry about Baelfire’s illness, she felt a pull toward that charming man in black and red who defended her honor so easily, who gracefully took a seat next to her as he offered her a drink. He smelled of leather and rum, the warm tavern causing sweat to gather in the depression at the base of his throat. She didn’t think she’d seen anyone in her entire life, man or woman, who was as… beautiful as he was, for lack of a better word, and she found it genuinely startling. Perhaps she couldn’t forget her worries (and shouldn’t, not when her son’s life hung in the balance), but she was momentarily distracted from them by this man. This man who kissed the back of her hand for just a moment too long but politely withdrew when she told him she was married. When she closed her eyes that night, it was his blue eyes she saw as she drifted off to sleep.

It was weeks before saw him a second time.

Milah’s ears would perk up whenever there was a whisper in the market about pirates in port, but the men she saw in town were grizzled and dirty, missing teeth and limbs, a far cry from the handsome Captain Jones. Then the day came when she was carrying a load of washing -- menial work for a meager few pennies, but at least it would put some food on the table -- and she spotted him across the street. She dreaded that he would turn and look her way and see her laboring under her heavy burden of laundry: sweaty, disheveled, her hair a mess. Not that he should want to look upon her under the best of circumstances; she was too old and too plain for a man like that. Milah put her head down and walked faster. She resolved to stop looking for him and stop thinking about him.

Her resolve lasted about five hours.

Knowing he was probably still in port, that night she put on her nicest blouse and tamed her hair and walked down to the tavern, if for no other reason than to see his face again.  There he was, laughing and drinking with his crew, but he continually scanned the room and he noticed her within a few minutes of her arrival. Clapping a crew member on the back, he approached with a wide smile. Milah’s heart galloped.

“I was hoping I’d see you again,” he said, standing just a bit closer to her than was proper, swaying from side to side on his booted feet.

“I didn’t think you’d remember.”

He seemed genuinely surprised at that, and as the flirtatious smirk fell away she was struck by how young he was. Younger than her, to be sure.

“Of course I remember, how could I not?”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She felt so plain next to him, the embroidery on his vest finer than anything she had ever owned, the dark lines under his eyes dramatic and sexy. Why did he notice her at all?

He swayed closer still. “I’ve thought of you often during my lonely nights at sea.” An eyebrow waggle completed the innuendo, and she found herself laughing. Milah couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

Milah shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

~*~

They met a few more times in the tavern after that, but there was nothing but a harmless flirtation between them at first. He taught her to cheat at dice and cards and to drink rum, always with a smile on his lips that made her think about what kissing him would feel like. When she was in the tavern with him, she felt like a different person. She felt like someone who was adept at holding the attention of a man. She almost felt happy.

But Killian’s visits to their port were separated by absences of days or weeks, and during those times the monster on her shoulder became bolder. Telling her how worthless she was every time she couldn’t muster the energy to play with Bae. Telling her that her drawings were a waste of time and energy and money, canvases an extravagance that she didn’t deserve. Converting her self-loathing into a fuel to feed the flames of her antipathy toward her husband, and then berating her when their arguments made Bae cry or shout at them to stop.

Liquor made the monster quiet down, she had learned. And it wasn’t like she had to spend any of her own meager coin in the tavern, not when a certain pirate was in port. A few drinks and she could feel the monster coiled around her shoulders drift off to sleep. The release was a kind of euphoria. She would gamble with the boys -- Killian always spotted her a stake and covered her debts if she lost, but let her keep her winnings if she didn’t -- until the table began to swim in her vision and she leaned too heavily against the Killian’s shoulder, unable to hold her head up any longer. Her memories of him seeing her home (not all the way to her door, of course, but close enough that he could ensure she got inside safely) were jagged and fractured with drunkenness, but she knew he never took any liberties, even when she stumbled and let her hand drag across the back of his leather pants.

She would pay for her behavior the next day, often too sick to get out of bed. Rumple would take Bae with him into town, perhaps to give her some peace but more likely so he wouldn’t see his mother retching into a bucket. And of course her monster would awaken, refreshed from its sleep, and tear into her for being a drunk and a layabout. The old images of jumping from a cliff would return, and Milah would lie still in her sweat-soaked bed, too empty to even weep.

~*~

“May I walk you home, Milah?” Killian’s elbow pointed in her direction. The tavern was closing, but somehow she was less inebriated than usual. Killian himself had filled up her senses, distracted her so completely with his charm and his flirting that for once she forgot to drink herself into senselessness.

“You can walk me anywhere else but home.”

He arched an eyebrow at her as if he was trying to parse her meaning.

“Take me to see your ship. I’ve never even seen your ship,” she said, desperate not to return to the dirty hovel where she lived. Not really thinking about the implications of her request.

He did as she asked, but she could sense the tension rolling off of him as they walked through the night to the harbor. The first thing she spotted were the masts with their furled sails against the backdrop of the night sky, a full moon impossibly bright behind them.

As they walked up the gangplank, she could make out brightly colored paint along the gunwale and on the hull, yellow and red and blue. “It’s beautiful,” Milah remarked.

“Aye, that she is.”

“Sorry, ‘she’s’ beautiful.”

He smiled at her, leading her up some stairs to the large wheel which she presumed he used to steer. She could imagine him out on the open ocean, his dark hair tousled by the wind as he gave orders to his crew and bore down on another vessel. She dragged her fingers over the wooden knobs of the wheel, picturing his long fingers gripping them. “Is it difficult, sailing?”

Killian shrugged. “There’s a lot to learn, I suppose. How to deploy each sail to get the most out of the prevailing winds, navigating using the stars, reading the weather… but I grew up on ships.”

He had never spoken to her of his childhood before, and she was suddenly desperate to learn more about his beginnings. “Was your father a… a pirate?”

“My father was too much of a coward to be a pirate,” he muttered, turning and lifting a hatch. “Come below, darling, and let’s have a nightcap.” He descended the steep steps before her, turning and reaching a hand up to assist her. Milah paused. She knew what nightcap was often code for. Milah might be a lot of things -- a drunk and a gambler and a poor excuse for a wife and mother -- but she wasn’t an adulterer. She could go now, and perhaps Killian would be disappointed, but she didn’t think he would hold it against her. He wasn’t that kind of man. She could go home where she belonged, with her husband and her son.

Taking his hand, she allowed Killian to help her down the stairs.

The chamber was dark but he quickly lit a lantern, revealing a fairly spacious room. There were cabinets filled with books and trinkets, a large table, and a bunk in the corner. The white walls reflected the lamp light in shades of yellow, giving the space a homey feel.

“This is nice. Larger than I imagined,” she said as he pulled a decanter of wine from a shelf.

“Well, I am the captain.”

Milah flinched. He was the captain, and a man like him could have his pick of women in every port. Likely did have his pick of women in every port. She flushed with embarrassment at her notion that he wanted to bed her. Perhaps he merely wanted to drink with her, his matronly friend whom he felt sorry for because she was destitute and lonely. Perhaps he was at a loss for what to do with her now that she was in his chamber, and was trying to figure out how to get rid of her without hurting her feelings.

Killian handed her a cup of wine and clinked his own cup against it. She sipped from the cup, feeling awkward, regretting that she’d come here. Regretting that she’d ever met Killian Jones. Killian was the only thing in her life that made her feel anything, but she wasn’t sure if her current discomfort was worth it.

“I’d best be getting home,” she said, and she watched Killian’s face fall.

“To your husband,” he said flatly.

“Yes.”

He walked over to the windows, looking out into the night. “Do you love him?”

“Does it matter?”

Killian turned and met her gaze. “Aye, it matters a great deal to me, love.”

She tried to ignore her pounding heart. “Why?”

Approaching her slowly, his lips quirked up in a half-smile. “Do you not wonder why I can’t seem to stop myself from returning to this port, Milah?”

She didn’t know how to answer, and she swallowed on a suddenly dry mouth.

He put his large hand on her arm. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop dreaming about you.” His eyelashes fluttered as he dropped his eyes to the floor. “If there’s no chance for me, then please just put me out of my misery now, love.”

She wasn’t sure who initiated the kiss. At first it was just an imperceptible lean toward him, a sway into close orbit, and then suddenly his mouth was on hers. It was a tiny thing, the touch of one human’s flesh to another’s, and it was everything, an explosion of sensation and emotion the likes of which she had never experienced.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered against her lips, and she was so fuzzy with desire that she couldn’t quite process what he was saying. Without even realizing how it happened she found herself seated on the edge of his bunk, her skirts bunched up as he stood between her legs, his mouth everywhere on her neck as his hands cupped her breasts.

Even as they undressed frantically between heated kisses, she was certain this couldn’t really be happening. It felt like a daydream. Surely this worldly young man couldn’t want her this way. And if he somehow had convinced himself that he did, the sight of her body with its blemishes and stretch marks would put him off.

Milah kept thinking this even as his naked body covered hers, his desire evident in the thrust of his cock against her. Only when he was inside her did it click in her head with sudden clarity. She was fucking another man.

He was beautiful above her, dark hair on sun-kissed skin, his toned muscles flexing and voice breaking on each push into her. It felt good, a gentle, diffuse pleasure, the not-quite-enough pleasure that sex had always been for her. She clung to his shoulders and watched as Killian lost himself in his body’s demands.

“Gods… Milah,” he gasped.

“Don’t come inside me,” she said. “You can’t--”

“Aye,” he grunted, seeming to understand. She brought one hand up above her head and braced herself on the wall as his hips pistoned into her again and again until the last possible moment when he pulled out quickly. Two pumps of his fist and he groaned, his seed landing harmlessly on her stomach.

The gentle kisses he pressed to her shoulder after he’d cleaned them up and settled at her side should have been comforting, but they just made her feel worse. She didn’t deserve such tenderness, not after breaking her marriage vows so completely.

“I need to go home,” she whispered.

“Not yet,” Killian said, his voice husky, his hand trailing over her skin and making her shiver. “Don’t go just yet.”

The simple affection made tears well behind her eyes, something that in and of itself was remarkable; she’d started to think herself incapable of the genuine emotion that could bring about tears.

Shaking her head, Milah rose from the bed and began to quickly pull her clothes back on. “I’m sorry.”

~*~

By the time Milah returned to town the next day, the masts of the Jolly Roger were gone from the harbor. As she moved through the streets, she felt as if everyone’s eyes were on her, that they all must be whispering that she’d become a pirate’s whore. Never mind that the fact that she drank and gambled with pirates was enough to make people whisper -- now that she was guilty of the crime she had likely been accused of some time ago, now she felt the full weight of their stares. A part of her wanted to turn and scream at anyone within earshot that yes, she’d fucked the pirate captain. And that being his whore was preferable to the life she’d been consigned to.

It was weeks before Killian returned, empty, grey weeks through which she sleep-walked. Milah would lie awake at night, closing her eyes only to find her thoughts plagued with what his mouth had tasted like, what the drag of his skin had felt like against hers. She started to believe that once he’d bedded her, Killian didn’t plan to return. Perhaps he only cared for her as much as a she had been a conquest, a wife and mother seduced away from her home and into his bed. Now he had no further use of her.

She became so convinced of this that when she heard whispers that his ship had returned, Milah didn’t bother to go to the tavern. The next morning, however, his cabin boy approached her on the street as she made her way to the market.

“Captain wants you to come to his cabin, missus.”

Milah’s heartbeat sped up, but at the same time she felt a flare of anger for being summoned as if she had nothing better to do than wait upon Captain Jones.

“I have errands to tend to,” she responded.

“Then come as soon as you are able, if it please you.”

She waited until dusk, late enough that she wouldn’t be seen boarding a pirate ship in broad daylight, but early enough that he wouldn’t be out carousing yet. The pirate standing watch at the gangplank allowed her to board with a nod and a relieved smile. Another escorted her below.

Killian swept her into his arms immediately. “Milah, my love, I missed you.”

She held herself tense, uncertain how to feel. “You did?”

“Aye.” He pulled away a fraction but continued to hold her. “We had to sail many leagues to find a worthy target this time. Finally I was able to run down a royal galleon. It took us days to follow it into the straits so that we could overtake them without being outmaneuvered. I wanted to return right away, but the winds were against us.” Shooting her a sheepish smile, he added, “Still, at least my ship’s coffers are full now. I’ve been returning to this port so often lately, I knew I had to find a rich prize on this outing or risk a mutiny.”

“Why have you? Been returning to this port so often lately?”

He reached up and stroked her cheek. “I think you know the answer to that, love.” Then his eyes widened. “Ah, I just remembered!” He let go of her and turned back to his shelves, unlocking a safe with a key he’d pulled from his pocket. He removed a small bundle with some reverence, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a pair of large, turquoise earrings. He held them out to her. “A gift for you.”

Milah gaped at them. “Those are worth more than everything else I own put together.”

“All the more reason I want you to have them. Wear them, or sell them if the money would do you more good than the jewelry.”

“Killian, I can’t accept a gift like this from you.”

“Of course you can.” He took her hand and turned it palm up, putting the earrings in her hand. “Take them. I want you to.” She met his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I thought you deserved something nice.” He gave her a self-deprecating smile. “Because I saw them and thought of you. Because I’m very fond of you, Milah.”

Closing her fist, she tucked the earrings into the pocket of her skirt. “Thank you.”

He took her in his arms again. “Can you stay a while?” he murmured, leaning in for a kiss.

The sex was much like before, and though she wanted it, wanted him, she found it no more satisfying than the first time. Milah knew there were women who claimed to enjoy sex as much as men, and she’d always thought that Rumple was the reason that she got more enjoyment from her own hand than she ever did from their coupling. Now she had to face the fact that she was the problem, that this was one more way that she was deficient. Either that or her pirate lover was no more adept than her husband.

Killian trailed a hand over her abdomen and Milah twitched, still keyed up and sensitive. He seemed oblivious to the way her body was still aching for release. “Can you stay the night this time?” he asked.

Milah imagined Bae waking up for a cup of water in the wee hours of the morning and finding her gone. She shook her head. “I can’t. My son…”

Giving her a sad smile, Killian murmured, “You’re a good mother.”

Pulling away, Milah shot him a look of disbelief. “Is that a joke? I’m a terrible mother. You can tell on account of the fact that I’m having an affair with a pirate.”

A quick, inappropriate grin flashed across his face before he could suppress it. “So that makes you a bad wife, perhaps, but I can tell you love your son.”

“Love isn’t enough.” She chuckled darkly. “My son would be better off if I were dead and gone, anyway.”

Now it was Killian’s turn to pull away. “Why would you say that?”

“Because, Killian! I’m worthless! I drink too much and I don’t--” She sat up and began to pull her clothes back on with hurried, jerky motions. “I don’t have the energy to do the most basic things for my family. And at least if I were gone, my son wouldn’t have to see Rumple and me fighting all the time. He’d be happier in the long run.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Milah.”

She sighed heavily. “I assure you, it is.”

~*~

Milah followed Rumple and Bae back home from the tavern like a recalcitrant child. It had been a low blow by her husband, bringing Bae to the tavern to guilt her into coming home. She squeezed her eyes shut as a flood of shame coursed through her, stumbling slightly in the doorway of their pitiful, one-room hut. While Rumple put the boy to bed in his cot behind a simple partition, Milah flopped down on her bed. Misery and drink weighed her down like twin stones tied to her ankles. The room was too hot, the fire stoked too high, and sweat broke out on her face as she lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Milah reached up and touched the turquoise earrings that dangled from her earlobes. Any other husband would have asked her where she got them. Any other husband would have demanded to know what she’d done in exchange for such a gift. Any other husband, faced with evidence of a wife’s infidelity, would have struck her, but Rumple would never do that, even if it was what she deserved. That’s what her father had often told her.

When Rumple emerged from putting Bae to bed he brought up the ogre war again, asking in a soft voice if she truly wished he’d died. She felt a sudden surge of pity and something almost like affection for him. It wasn’t him that should have died, this sad, cowardly man who was so kind and patient with their son. She was the one who didn’t deserve to live in this world. She begged, not for the first time, for them to leave the village and start over. Perhaps the monster who plagued her wouldn’t follow her to a new place. She could remake herself into a better person, she thought desperately. Other people would respect them, and she could become the wife and mother she’d once imagined she could be. More importantly, the temptation of a certain pirate’s bed would be removed from her life.

Rumple refused her, as he had many times before, and said they could be a family here, in their home.

“At least try. If not for me… then for Bae,” he said.

As always, Rumple seemed to find the idea of venturing outside their village so terrifying that he’d rather they spend the rest of their lives as pariahs, as outcasts, barely able to scrape together enough coin to survive. Milah closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.

When Rumple had finally fallen asleep at her side, his soft snores filling her ears, Milah stole out of bed. She crept over to Baelfire’s cot, watching his small chest rise and fall in slumber, his innocent face relaxed. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“I’m sorry, Bae. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the mother you need.”

By the time she got down to the docks, the moon had set but dawn had yet to hint at its arrival, and the water in the harbor looked black as pitch. Milah took another swig from the bottle of cheap corn mash liquor she’d swiped on her way from a man passed out in an alley, continuing to stare down into the depths. She wondered how far it was to the bottom. She wondered if it would be better to step off the dock or to jump. She wondered if she could drink enough to dampen any instinct toward self preservation that might kick in once she was actually drowning.

She wondered if her body would float to the surface after, to be dragged out by the townsfolk and gossiped over.

“Milah?”

Swinging around at the sound of her name, she stumbled, her foot slipping on the wet boards.

“Whoa, love,” Killian said, darting forward and grabbing her arm. He pulled away from the edge of the water. “Take care before you fall in.”

“That was the idea,” she mumbled, jerking out of his grasp.

“What was the idea?”

She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him what she’d been contemplating. Instead what she said was, “Take me away with you.”

“What?”

Milah clicked her teeth together, shocked at her own utterance. Any doubts she had about Killian’s feelings for her were subsumed by her desperation in the moment. “I said… I said, take me away with you. On your ship.”

“What about your son? Your husband?”

She laughed bitterly. “Do you really care about my husband?”

“Not particularly, but I thought you did.”

“I told you, they’re better off without me.” She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince.

“Your son will miss you terribly, love.”

“Killian, if you don’t want me, just--”

“Of course I want you,” he said, frustration evident in the lines of his brow. “I’ve hardly wanted anything else since we first met. But love…” Conflicting emotions performed an impromptu battle across his face. “I lost my mother when I was very young. It was the first loss of many in my life, but in many ways it cuts the deepest. I don’t want to be responsible for another boy being left with a failure for a father, as much as a part of me is desperate to steal you away and have you all to myself.”

“My husband has a lot of flaws, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s that he loves our son. He’ll look after him. They’ll look after each other.” She felt tears well up and fall, and she swiped angrily at her cheeks. “If I stay, I’ll drag Bae down into the depths with me. My son will be forced to watch me wither away and die. How is that better?”

He studied her face for a moment and then nodded. “Come on, then. We’ll cast off tomorrow.”

Milah looked down at the black water once more. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the bottle of cheap liquor into the harbor, watching as it sank out of view.

Part 2