#like obviously i’ll keep my mouth shut in front of customers because honestly customers don’t need to know my personal thoughts about

[tartagilicious]

sun and moon > xiao

happy (late-ish) valentine’s day yall! thank you, mihoyo, for once again reminding me that i’m easily attached to emotionally unavailable pretty boys. the "I hate everyone but you" trope is real here, I wanna be his friend and gain his trust like this is a mf otome game. to anyone still pulling for him, good luck~ don’t worry, you have a little bit more time and more free rewards are also on the way!! have some soft xiao for good luck >:D // w.c 1.9k // not a request 

also a big ty to @seerie​ for being my beta reader, bc I don’t know what I’m doing 🥴

summer sky by asking for a friend

You hiss softly as Xiao runs a damp cloth over the gash adorning the length of your cheekbone, face scrunching as his eyes narrow in concentration. It feels somehow wrong to have him taking care of you, much less sitting in front of you and dressing your wounds himself.

A majority of the bleeding had stopped not long ago, but there's still another fear that plagues you more -- your agreement with the yaksha adeptus, or rather contract, specifically trying to combat injuries on your behalf.

You aren’t sure if chickening out on calling him in the midst of the situation you were hurt is grounds for breaking the contract somehow, though either way, Xiao has always seemed to be quite serious regarding his promises. You remember his first and only instructions to you weeks ago being clear and concise,

“If you awake to a knife at your throat, if monsters dig their claws into you, if death comes knocking at your door, call out my name; adeptus Xiao. I will be here when you call.”

Surely a small wound like this wasn’t serious enough?

Xiao pulls the fabric away from your face and silently notes what must be the mess of blood covering it, lips turning up in a grimace. His standards of emergency are usually as one would expect, though lately for whatever reason, even the smallest of your wounds tend to put him in a bad mood.

From such a standoffish person, it’s a bit hard to get used to or understand -- but a part of you is only happy to know that there’s a chance he might care more than he lets on.

“...The abyss mages, they just came out of nowhere,” You try to explain but the silence is deafening. Eyes downcast to the stool beneath your legs, you mumble, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Xiao doesn’t give any more of a reaction than an arched brow and a slight gesture with the gruesomely dyed cloth. You half expect him to be irritated; to give you a lecture on keeping an eye on your surroundings or to take better care of yourself, but he doesn’t. Instead, he looks away and shakes his head, spiking your nerves with a low sigh.

He looks back at you as he rests his elbow on his knee and thrusts out the cloth again, almost in exasperation. “Why didn’t you call my name?”

You feel the blood drain from your face as the words leave his mouth, and suddenly, you’re terrified to answer honestly. As already long-established, Xiao is someone who despite thousands of years of trauma, remains as hard as the rock of the nation he watches over. Compared to his lifespan, you’re relatively immature, so the last thing you want is to give an embarrassing reason to make him think that you suddenly don’t trust him enough to help.

“I-I don’t know,” You stutter and curse pitifully inside your head as you return his eye contact. “But I can’t just call you every time I’m in trouble, especially when I think I can deal with it myself, right?”

He scoffs as if you’ve just said the most ridiculous thing.

“This shouldn’t have to be a discussion. Your capabilities don’t lack anything, but your hesitation may very well be the death of you.”

“I never hesitated,” Though your voice is more steadfast, any illusion of confidence is shattered by the way you fidget with your hands. “I only misjudged. I make mistakes sometimes, but I think you forget that I’ll heal even after the worst of these injuries.”

Xiao sighs and crumples the bloodstained cloth in the palm of his hand, caging himself in his arms before speaking again -- just as he always does.

“Don’t be outrageous, I haven’t forgotten anything.” He averts his gaze and for a moment, you swear that you notice the tips of his ears flush. “It’s only ignorant to assume that I want to see you injured.”

Your brows knit as a similar knot slides down your throat. “I just, I just don’t get why you’re so worried about it.”

He stares at you, once again, as if you’ve just said something completely outlandish -- as if it wasn’t as hard to tell what he was thinking beneath such a guarded personality as you made it out to be.

“What?” You ask, slightly exasperated as you sit up straighter. You had still been sitting as if he were cleaning your wounds. “Is that not a valid question? It seems like you want nothing to do with anyone, but then turn around and worry when I’m hurt?”

“How could you do that and still not know why I hesitate to call for you?” Exasperated, you exhale and shut your eyes for a moment, deliberately avoid seeing his reaction to these words.

“...All I mean, is that sometimes it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking -- I feel like I’m bothering you, even if it might be in a situation where I really do need you.”

For a moment, Xiao is blatantly surprised by your reason for not upholding the contract you’d made. It almost gives you the impression that in your spiel, you’ve said something completely idiotic. A gradual flush of embarrassment flares up beneath your skin, but thankfully, you contain yourself before you have the chance to blurt out anything you’d regret.

His lips twist ever so slightly, as if he’s combing through things to respond with in his head. Obviously a bit flustered to hear your reasoning, it’s odd to see him in such a way, albeit while somehow remaining so uniquely him

“You… really are incomprehensible.”

Turning his head to shield his expression, he discards the cloth by tossing it in a nearby basket and stands. Your eyes follow him up until his own turn back towards you, golden irises glinting with a sort of hesitant concentration. You blink.

“If you trust me enough to enter a contract where i very well might decide between your life and death, do well and also trust me as someone who doesn’t break their promises.” Xiao’s brows fold delicately, as if mulling over the words coming out of hisin real time. “___, I don’t want to see you hurt like this.”

Your heartbeat briefly stutters, lips opening and closing as if to say something even when no thoughts are formed. Eyes trailing back down to your hands, you let out a small sigh. Before you can say anything, though, a gloved hand takes your chin and gently guides your eyes back upwards.

“So don’t hesitate.” His touch is soft as he maintains comfortable eye contact with you despite the straight-forward words. “I won’t allow you to die because of me.”

Blood pumps wildly through your ears as you suck in a breath of apprehension. As hard as you try to break away your gaze, something in his face keeps you anchored even when your chest begins to seize; a face that has been hardened over a millenia of suffering stares back at you with the improper care of a hopeful innocent, as if you are something that is worthwhile in the purest sense.

You swallow, Xiao’s hand’s position above your throat making it painfully obvious to him how caught off guard you are. Though naturally, if this action of yours makes him falter at all, he does so unnoticeably.

“I won’t,” It’s said slowly, as if you can’t comprehend what exactly you’re saying just yet. “You said I don’t lack anything, but in the moments I do--”

Your lips rest parted as anxiety cuts off the last part of your sentence, but Xiao’s patient expression pushes you forward.

“...I trust you to help me.”

Those words echo in his mind for a moment, ricocheting and hitting even the most unfamiliar parts of himself that he’d long buried. Feelings and memories that have since collected cobwebs begin to resurface and remind him of a more simple time he treasures dearly.

Trust.

Xiao’s thumb ghosts over your jaw, slowly wiping across the skin as he’s propelled deeply into thought -- fortunately too much so to notice the rising pigment on your cheeks.

He himself places his trust in people far and few. You might be different, well acquainted to human customs and the world around you, yet those words from you somehow feel just as special as if the roles are reversed. Your honesty and courage to accompany him has always dug at the cavity in his chest, but to hear you voice the metaphorical fruit of your labour so clearly is an entirely different sense.

All this time he’d blindly protected you, warned you about monsters lurking in the darkness, he’d fallen too far to even realise that you were beginning to change him. He no longer ate alone, nor did he adventure or sleep as he once did -- you had stuck onto him like a stubborn thorn despite, in your words, tending to feel as if you were bothering him. Regardless, he had somehow still earned your valuable companionship, and with it, commendable words that he could accept from you alone.

But there were times where he despised feeling such a way. He battled over the reasons he felt so inflicted when it was you who was injured, or you who chose to stick by him even after he tried so desperately to push you away. It was frustrating, dealing with a gentle care so foreign. Once he was used to your considerate nature, though, it became a different story.

Seeing you hurt began to shift from an expectable casualty to a blow to his own chest.

“...Xiao,” Your voice is hesitantly quiet, and suddenly, his eyes come back into focus. You’re staring at him with hesitant concern, setting his heart abuzz. “Are you okay?”

It’s when you reach up to wrap your hand around his that his mind finally completes his thought.

I love her.

As an Adeptus, he’s lived thousands of lives and outlived many more, and has taken the role of slaughterer before protector throughout many of them. In a way, the latter ways of his previous life have been ingrained him, regardless of those he manages to save in the more current centuries.

He imagines the figures of the spirits of those he’d wronged watching him in this moment, screaming a sound of contempt that he would never hear. They’re right to do so. They have no reason to pray for his happiness, much like he has little reason to pray for forgiveness.

Yet looking down at you, for the first time in a long time, none of that seems to matter.

With little thought, he grips your hand a bit tighter before letting go, his own hand travelling the length of your jaw to bring himself down to you. You remain completely still as he places a gentle kiss above your brow bone, breath hitching.

“I’m okay.” He reassures you quietly, resting there for a moment and sighing a small gust of air onto your skin. You mumble his name softly, hand reaching out to grab a hold of his shirt. The thin layer between your skin and his sends a sudden shiver down his spine, but regardless, he hums in response.

Your voice comes out in a whisper. “Are you sure?”

He nods, for the first time completely certain.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love, War, and Books by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 2/3

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly

Chapter 2: Poetry and Mean Spiritedness

Emma stood in the middle of a near empty store, she sighed, stringing up the lights around the small tree in the corner of the reading area. She gazed around at the few children and their parents looking around at the books before leaving without spending a dime. Jones Books had opened at the beginning of the week and sadly had affected the customer turnout for the week.

While it was upsetting, Emma was trying to stay positive, determined that business would pick up once the shine of the new bookstore wore off and the children begged their parents to return to the store that spent time and effort to bring the stories to life that they had known and loved.

“This bloody sucks!” Will complained as he closed the register for the evening.

“We’ll be out of business before the end of the month at this rate.” Ruby whispered in his direction.

“No one is going out of business.” Emma assured, patting Ruby on the back. “It will pick up after they get tired of the terrible customer service they are getting at Jones crappy bookstore.”

“I hope so because I have rent due on the 5th.”

“Please, you’re still living in a place with rent control. I’ll be out on the streets with the amount they rip from my hands each month across town.”

“No one is going to be out on the streets. Think positive. We’ll be fine.” Emma tried to calm the nervousness in the room.

“It’s like working in a tomb here.” Will moaned.

“Wow Will, way to be positive.” Ruby teased with a groan.

He shrugged and Emma skipped away from them, trying to ignore the negative concerns from her employees. She wasn’t going to be put out of business from Jones Books!

When she arrived home that evening, her positive attitude was threatening to wane on her. The store had barely made enough money to be in the black that evening, she stepped in a puddle before entering their apartment, and the zipper in the dress she wanted to wear to the dinner this evening snagged and broke as soon as she put it on.

Groaning she sat down at her laptop as she waited for August to get done with his shower. She read the message from JR10 and her smile returned momentarily.

Lonelygirl: I find that sometimes you are the one person I want to talk to at the end of a difficult day. Is that weird? If it is, just skip over that part. I pride myself in being a positive person, but lately I’m finding it harder to find that little piece of joy before I get swallowed into a black hole of sadness. I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you for being that little piece of joy I needed tonight.

She closed her laptop as August emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. “I thought you were getting dressed?”

“My zipper broke.” She frowned, holding up the dress in front of her.

“So, wear that one with the flowers.”

“I hate that dress.”

“So, wear the plaid one or the one with stripes. Or the red one is nice.” He paused, looking at her closet. “Any of these is fine.”

“Yeah ok, the red one is good.”

An hour later they were in the elevator and heading to the penthouse for a publication party. They were generally dry and boring but a great opportunity to meet other writers, artists, and people in the book business.

“Maybe you can find some people to assist you in your plight tonight.”

“My plight? And what would that be?” She waited on an answer from August.

“From Jones Books, if things got tough perhaps you could find an ally to help rally support.”

“It’s not going to get to that. My store is doing just fine.” Emma replied angrily.

“I know, I don’t know why I said that, of course it’s fine.”

“There’s enough business for more than one bookstore. We’re fine.”

He kissed her cheek. “You’re more than fine, you’re absolutely fine.”

“Yeah, exactly, we’re fine.” She repeated as they stepped into the party at the top of the building unsure if she was trying to convince August or herself of the state of her business.

~*~

Killian and Milah had arrived early to the party, a friend of the family who was hosting a publishing event had invited them to join them that evening. His father told him more than once that these events were the perfect time to rub elbows with people in the book business. Free advertising, he used to tell him.

“Oh, I can’t believe that August Booth is here. I listen to him on the way to work, he is so inspiring.” Killian nodded without actually paying attention as he scanned the room, his eyes settling on a familiar face in the back corner.

Emma Swan.

His eyes grew big, and he leaned over to speak into Milah’s ear. “I’m going to get a drink.” She nodded and he slipped out of view of the woman from his rival bookstore before she could turn in his direction.

“Havana Club Rum, neat.” He gave his order to the bartender, glancing around the room to find Milah.

“Malibu and Cranberry.” He recognized her voice before he turned toward her. When he did she smiled, and her eyes grew wide. “Hey! Remember me? From the bookstore?”

“Yeah, yeah of course I remember you.”

“How’s your brother?”

“He’s good, really good.” He grabbed his drink and held it up in front of him. “I have to get back to my date, very thirsty, would hate to see her wither from dehydration.” He joked.

“You’re Killian right?” She continued and he felt the sweat start to gather at the back of his neck.

“Yes, and you’re Emma.” He said with a smile before ducking into the crowd to escape.

~*~

Emma sipped her drink as she made her way back over to August, sliding up beside him as his conversation ended.

“I can’t believe you were talking to Killian Jones.”

Emma turned toward him, “Jones, as in…”

“Jones Books.” He nodded but Emma was already making her way across the room toward the man standing at the food table.

“Jones, your name is Killian Jones?”

“Last I checked, Aye.” He shrugged, turning back to the food, and filling his plate.

“You were spying on me!” She declared loudly. “You probably don’t even have a brother.”

“You wound me Swan. Of course I have a brother. Why exactly do you think I would spy on you?” He said as if he didn’t have a care in the world who she was, which angered her even more.

“I’m your competition, which you already know or else you wouldn’t have played that little charade in my store.” She had her hands on her hips, chewing angrily on her bottom lip.

“Competition?” He said with an annoying laugh that made her blood boil. “The only reason I came into your store was because I was spending the day with my brother. I like to buy him gifts when I take him out because honestly I have no idea how else to keep his attention. At the time there was only one place in the neighborhood to buy children’s books, though as I am sure you are aware of now, all of that has changed.” He shrugged, “So I ended up in your store, and it is a charming littlestore. You probably sell $250,000 worth of books a year…”

Her eyes widened as she stepped toward him. “How did you know that?”

“I’m in the book business, obviously.” He said arrogantly.

“No, I’m in the book business, you are simply the Costco of books.”

“Ah I see, and so you think that I needed to sneak into your tiny bookstore and steal your financial ledger because I’m afraid you’ll put me out of business? Give me a break, love.” He snorted and Emma felt flustered, angry, but frozen in place.

“What?” He asked as he watched her standing in front of him, mouth agape, saying nothing.

“Killian Jones, corporate scum, destroyer of small-time virtues, enemy of the hardback novel, how do you sleep at night?” August joined her at her side and Emma forced herself to close her mouth as she stared between them.

“I sleep wonderful at night, mostly from the pills though.” A woman interrupted and jabbed her hand toward August. “You’re August Booth, aren’t you?” she paused. “I’m Milah Gold. And I loved your podcast last week about how Amazon is taking over the world.” She turned toward Killian. “This man is a literal genius.” Emma narrowed her eyes at the woman.

“Wow thank you; you have no idea how much that means coming from someone as talented as you. So often I wake up and worry that people will think I’m a fraud or a failure. But this…this is truly inspiring.” August seemed to suck the air out of the room as he continued to praise the woman standing next to her enemy.

“We need to talk more. Have you ever considered writing a book?” The woman continued and August began to shift excitedly on the balls of his feet. Emma stood stoically as her eyes made contact with the man who was trying to destroy her business. He held her gaze, not wavering from the contact until she shifted her eyes back to her boyfriend. She breathed a sigh of relief when Killian and the woman excused themselves from the conversation.

Emma couldn’t concentrate the rest of the evening. Why did she say nothing when he provoked her? Instead of standing up for herself she froze, completely shut down.

“I really liked that Milah Gold. Sure, I know she’s completely driven by money, but anyone who listens to my podcast can always be turned around.”

Emma rolled her eyes, tossing down onto her pillow and staring at the ceiling while he continued to ramble on and on about the evening.

~*~

“I can’t believe we met August Booth. He’s so interesting, don’t you think he’s interesting?” He turned over in his bed, staring at the floor. “His ideas are just so ahead of his time. No one is saying the things he’s saying.”

Killian flipped the covers off his body and stood from the bed. He was feeling uneasy, angry, guilty. Why was he feeling guilty?

“Where are you going?”

“Bloody hell woman, I’m just not tired.”

JR10: Have you ever woken up and realized that you have become the worst part of yourself? Like when someone provokes you, every arrogant, self-absorbed, condescending piece of your personality comes springing to life and attacks. Who am I kidding, you wouldn’t know what that is like? I’m the dark asshole here.

He stared at his screen, almost needing to talk to her, hoping that she was online. His heart soared when it showed she was typing.

Lonelygirl: I completely understand. I’m honestly jealous, I wish I had that in me. When I’m provoked, I freeze like a fish gulping for air, only to spend the rest of the night tossing in bed trying to think of things I should have said instead.

He laughed; he couldn’t believe how opposite they were. She was a breath of fresh air.

JR10: Perhaps I could lend you some of my retorts and you could give me your silence. Though I must warn you, when you finally provide that perfect response that digs into the subject of your attack, you will learn a new trait. Remorse.

He paused, staring at his screen, and thinking about doing something really stupid. Or possibly brilliant. He wasn’t sure which it was.

JR10: Do you think we should meet?

He hovered over the enter button, did he really think it was a good idea to meet this woman? Before he could change his mind he punched the button sending the message and closing the lid of his computer.

~*~

“He wants to meet you?” Emma groaned and leaned against the counter, Ruby staring at her from her spot in front of the shelves. “What did you tell him?”

“I wasn’t going to answer him on an empty stomach. So, I made breakfast and then chickened out and ran straight to work.”

“That’ll show him.” Will joked as he nudged her with his shoulder. “Left him on read.”

“Oh stop.” Emma whined. “I’ll answer him, later.” She sighed, walking back to her office, and staring at her invoices. Sales were down by 30% since Jones books had opened. She was never going to survive at this rate. She needed to do something drastic.

“It’s a shame you don’t know anyone with a voice to the public. Someone who knows how to tug at the heartstrings of America’s bleeding heart.”

Emma looked up to see Mrs. Lucas entering the room. “You aren’t suggesting…”

“That man candy of yours.”

“Don’t call him that.” Emma scrunched her nose and shuffled the papers in front of her.

“Come on, he’s nice on the eyes that man of yours.”

“I guess.”

“If you can only guess, then maybe you’re looking up a different tree.”

Emma’s mouth dropped, “Grans! That’s completely inappropriate.”

The woman shrugged and left the room. “I’ll take him if you’re done with him.” She hollered back as she left.

Emma was being completely unfair to August, there was no way she should meet this JR10. Things were perfect just the way they were. She loved August, he was good to her, and all she was doing was having a conversation with a computer screen.

That’s all.

Nothing more.

As soon as she got home she opened her laptop, determined that this was the right decision.

Lonleygirl: I don’t think we should meet. Why would we ruin what we have? I enjoy talking to you, you enjoy talking to me, why mess with that? Please don’t ask again.

~*~

Killian sat with his dog in his lap and his laptop sitting beside him as he read the incoming message.

“Good job Jones, you scared her.” He patted the dog’s head. “I’m officially an idiot.”

He slammed the laptop shut, unsure how to reply to the woman.

The days went by in a flurry as the store picked up steam. Every time he walked through the expansive store, it was buzzing with customers, passing over credit cards, picking up bundles of books at an affordable rate. He was saving them money, he was a goddamn hero, he thought.

But as he was standing in the checkout line at the grocery store, waiting for any sign of movement in the past ten minutes, his sour mood was making him feel anything like a hero.

“Can you believe this woman?” The man in front of him complained to his wife. “She’s trying to pay with a credit card in the cash only line.”

Killian leaned to the side, trying to see who was causing the delay when he spotted the golden hair, angry face, and an ass that would make any man’s groin twitch. He laughed, cursing his luck, but stepping forward toward her anyway.

“Do you need cash?”

She turned toward him and groaned. “Definitely not, thank you.” She growled.

“Hi, Ashley.” He smiled at the cashier. “This is Emma, I’m Killian. This is a credit card machine, is it not, Lass?” The woman stared at him, nodding with her mouth agape. “It’s the night before Thanksgiving, people are hungry, tired, and I’m sure you would prefer everyone go home so that you can get off your shift, am I right?”

The woman smiled. “It’s cash only.”

“But you have the ability to run it through. Zip zip.” He said as he pretended to push the card through the machine.

The woman took the card and groaned, “Fine.” She said as she ran it through the machine.

“Everything good now?”

“Just great.” Emma replied rolling her eyes.

“Happy Thanksgiving.” He said with a fake smile, turning his back and inserting himself into the line to a swell of cheers and pats on the back.

~*~

Emma found that she was running into Killian everywhere she went to her utter dismay. Suddenly he was at her coffee shop, grocery store, and even the gas station. When he pulled up on his stupid motorcycle she wanted to comment about how he must be overcompensating for something, but that would mean having to speak to him. So instead, she found herself hiding anytime he showed up. Sure, it was ridiculous, but she just didn’t want to face him again after the credit card incident.

As much as seeing Killian was causing her sour mood, she knew that wasn’t the only reason. She hadn’t heard back from JR10 since she told him she didn’t want to meet him. She supposed it was for the best, she never intended for it to go anywhere in the first place.

But everything seemed to be going wrong lately. Killian, JR10, her store. Emma wanted to feel happy, especially during the holidays, but instead she just felt depressed.

She stood at the store display window, watching the children walk by with their parents, snow falling softly in the background, and normally this would bring her all the joy she needed to keep from missing her mom during the holidays. Instead, the little yellow “Jones Books” bags in the hands of the happy children only brought her sadness.

When she got home, she did the one thing that had made her happy recently. She ignored the awkward feelings, sat down with her cocoa, and opened her laptop to message JR10.

Lonelygirl: I miss my mom. The holidays aren’t the same without her. I don’t think I ever told you, but my mom passed ten years ago. Fuck cancer. She always made the holidays special and I’m just really feeling down this year and I guess nothing feels special anymore because nothing is going right in my life anymore and I could really use her advice.

She got up and stood by her window, tears falling onto her cheeks. She laughed as she watched the snow falling. “Suddenly I’m a mess, mom. I miss you.”

A sound alerted her to a new message, and she wiped her face, slowly taking a seat in front of the screen.

JR10: My mother passed when I was 4. Holidays are always difficult. It was a car accident that took her, my father never really knew what to do with two young boys. Intimacy wasn’t exactly his thing. I miss her most around Christmas. She loved the snow. I don’t remember much about her, but I remember that she looked like an angel in the snow. What kind of advice do you need? Maybe I can help.

Emma smiled, happy that he had responded so quickly and didn’t mention anything about the previous awkwardness of her declining to meet him.

Lonelygirl: I don’t think you can help me.

JR10: Is it man trouble?

Lonelygirl: No definitely not. My business is in trouble.

JR10: I’m a great businessman, what kind of business do you have?

Lonelygirl: That’s rule #2 remember! No specifics.

JR10: Well, it’s going to be difficult to help without specifics, but I guess the best advice I can give you is that nothing in business is personal. It’s not personal, it’s business. Don’t go down without a fight. A man, or therefore woman, unwilling to fight for what they want, deserve what they get. You told me that you worried about not being brave in life. This is your chance. Fight to the death.

Emma closed her laptop and looked in the mirror. “It’s not personal, it’s business.” She narrowed her eyes. “It’s not personal, it’s business.” She said louder as August walked into the room.

“What’s not personal?”

“Jones Books.” She announced. “I’m going to war. And I want you to help me fight them.” August walked over and lifted her off the ground, spinning her around.

“There’s my girl. Let’s take it to the man.”

~*~

“You are what you read, save your soul, boycott Jones Books.” Killian glared at the poster attached to the window of his store. Ripping it from the glass he stormed into the store, marching to the back and into Belle’s office. “What is this crap?”

“They’re all over the streets, I’m finding them on the back of the registers, on my car. That little bookstore that none of you cared about, means business. Did you know they got that podcaster, August Booth to devote an entire hour of his next show comparing us to sharks that attack children on the beach?”

“Of course she did, I believe she’s dating the man.”

“Who is?”

“Emma, the owner of Golden Swan Books.”

“You know her?”

“Might have met her once.”

“Oh God.” Belle recoiled and reached for her remote on her desk, turning the volume up on the television above their head.

“I’m here with Emma Swan, owner of the quaint children’s bookstore Golden Swan Books. The store is struggling to remain open under the constant attack of the new super store Jones Books that opened down the block. Emma how are you?”

“Thank you for having me, you know I just want to say that Jones Books may have cheap books and wonderful coffee selections, but most of their employees have never even read a book in their life.”

Killian groaned. “She’s a real pain in the ass.”

“Is she now?” Bell mused. “I’m sure she’s not nearly as beautiful in person as she is on television.” She smirked.

“Oh no, she’s gorgeous, but a bloody pain in the ass.”

“You don’t feel bad that you are basically destroying her livelihood?”

“It’s not personal…”

“It’s business.” She finished for him.

“Besides, I’m not physically doing this, it’s the company. I’m not this big bad guy here. I’m just doing my job.” He complained. “I sell discounted books. So, sue me. Because of me, more people get to…OH MY GOD…buy books.” He dramatically paced the office, his hands flailing as Belle looked on with a smile. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged, looking back down at her computer.

When Killian left the store an hour later it was to a line of people holding signs and screaming in his face. “One, two, three, four, we don’t want this superstore.”

~*~

Emma stared at the papers in front of her. “Wait, so it made no difference at all?”

“Sorry, dear, doesn’t look like it. In fact, we’ve lost more this month than we did the previous three before their store even opened.”

Emma exhaled loudly. “So, we lost?” Her shoulders hunched and she felt the air inside of her deflate. “What would mom do?”

“I don’t know, dear, but the store looks lovely.”

Emma smiled weakly as the woman left the office, slumping against her desk, she cried softly. She walked home in the rain, not even bothering to shield herself from the conditions. By the time she reached her apartment her clothes were soaked to her skin, her hair dripping onto the tile floor, and her tears were drowned by the moisture.

Sinking down at her desk, she opened her laptop and typed.

Lonleygirl: I need help. Do you still want to meet?

Emma tapped her nails on the keyboard, waiting anxiously for a reply. It didn’t take long for her to get one.

JR10: I’m happy to help. Do you know the Diner on 83rd? Friday, 7pm?

“Wait, you’re meeting him?” Ruby gaped.

“Like in person? That’s bloody dangerous, Emma.” Will scolded.

“You both are being ridiculous. We’re meeting in a public place. It’s fine.” She folded her arms across her chest and turned toward the older woman in the room. “Tell them Grans.”

“There are worse ways to meet men.” She laughed.

“Did you tell August?” Ruby inquired.

“No.” She said as she lowered her head. “He’s out of town this weekend. Some podcast convention in Los Angeles.”

“Aye, so that makes it alright to meet strange men you’ve been chattin’ with online?”

“I’m not going to stay long; we’re just eating food. That’s all.” She protested as Will made a gesture that indicated a sexual act. Emma groaned and punched him in the shoulder. “You’re disgusting. It’s just dinner. That’s all. 45 mins, an hour, tops.”

~*~

“I’m not even going to stay that long.” Killian protested as he and Belle walked the darkened streets.

“So how does this work? How are you going to know who she is?”

“She said she’ll have a book with a single rose.”

“A book, are you sure she doesn’t already know who you are?”

“It’s a common thing, from a book or something.” He mused and Belle rolled her eyes. “Do you think this is ridiculous, am I purposely trying to destroy a good thing with Milah?”

“Well, you do have a tendency to ruin things that could possibly lead to a future.” She laughed. “But I haven’t quite figured out why you and Milah are still together, honestly.”

“I love her.”

“Do you? Because I kinda think if you did, you wouldn’t be meeting up with random women you’ve been talking to online.”

Killian stopped walking and looked up at the door to the restaurant. “I can’t do this.” He started to turn away before spinning back toward the restaurant. “God, why do I need to meet this woman so badly that I can’t walk away?” He looked over at Belle. “Go look. Tell me if you can see her.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Killian. Do you want me to go in and have dinner with her too?”

“Only if she’s horrid.” He teased. “Please, Belle.” She climbed the stairs, peering through the window. “Do you see her?”

“Oh wow, she’s gorgeous.” Belle grinned. “Oh wait, no flower. Sorry.”

“Lass, this woman is a marvel. Even if she looks like her smiley face icon on discord, I may have no choice but to upend my life and marry her tomorrow.”

“Wait, I see a book.” Belle squealed, “And a flower…” She moved around the window. “The waiters in the way.” She peered again through the window. “Oh. Um…”

“What is it? Blonde, Brunette…is she a red head?”

“She’s gorgeous.”

“Bloody hell, I knew it.” He yelped.

“Yeah, definitely. I would say she’s as beautiful as Emma Swan.”

“The bookstore woman?” He asked confused.

“You said she was attractive.”

“Why are we even talking about Emma Swan right now?”

“Because, if you don’t like Emma Swan, you’re definitely not going to like this woman.”

“Why not?” Killian growled.

“Because she is Emma Swan.” Killian ran up the stairs, pushing himself against Belle and peering into the restaurant.

“Bloody hell.” He watched as Emma sat at the table, a soft smile across her lips, adjusting the book and the flower on the table as she nervously watched the door. Killian sighed and turned away from the door, walking back to the sidewalk.

“Where are you going?” Belle said loudly. “You’re just gonna let her sit there alone?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“But she’s lonelygirl, you were desperate to know who she was just ten minutes ago.”

“Goodnight Belle.” He said sadly, walking back toward his apartment.

~*~

Emma stared anxiously at the door, inspecting every person who walked through the entrance. When a tall man entered, smiling at her as he turned the corner, she stood up to greet him only for another woman to rush toward him, pulling her into his arms. Emma sat down, feeling dejected, her stomach tied in knots from disappointment. She couldn’t believe JR10 stood her up.

Maybe he was too good to be true.

“Ma’am, do you want your check?”

“No, can I have another glass of wine, please.” The waiter smiled and nodded sadly at her.

“Excuse me Ma’am.” Emma looked up excitedly at a young man standing next to her table. Ok he was a little younger than she expected, but age didn’t matter, right? “Are you using this chair?”

Emma narrowed her eyes as he started to remove the other chair from her table. “Put it down.” She bit her lip. “Sorry, I’m using it, I have a date, he’s coming.” The man apologized and Emma hollered after him. “He’s late.” She groaned as the door swung open and she felt like everything was moving in slow motion until it came to a screeching halt.

Killian Jones. Are you fucking kidding me?

He walked past her table, and she saw him react when he recognized her. His hands traced her table before picking up her book and making a face. She grabbed it from his hands and placed it back on her table. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” He said, taking a seat across from her.

“I’m sorry, but that seat is taken.”

He looked around with an air of arrogance, “Is he invisible? Do you have an invisible friend now?” He stood and apologized to the chair.

“Would you please leave.”

He had the nerve to bow, which made her blood boil. But instead of walking away, he took the table behind her, sitting down and leaning closer to her. “You know I’ve read that book.”

Emma looked down at her book. “You’ve read Pride and Prejudice?”

“I think you’d find a lot of things surprising about me, if you actually knew me.”

Emma glared at him, “If I got to know you I bet I’d find a cash register instead of a brain and instead of a heart, a bottom line.” Her mouth dropped.

“What’s wrong?” He replied after seeing the look on her face.

“I just did something I’ve never been able to do before. When confronted by a terrible and insensitive person, I knew exactly what to say, exactly at the right time.”

“I must agree, congratulations, it was the perfect mixture of poetry and mean spiritedness.”

“Mean spirted? I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t be offended, I was paying you a compliment, lass.”

“Please leave, I beg you.” She said on the verge of tears.

She reached into her purse, pulling out her handkerchief and dabbing the corners of her eyes.

“You know what that reminds me of? The first time we met.” He said reverently.

“You mean the day you lied to me when you were spying on me.”

“Hey, I never lied to you.”

She snorted. “Yeah whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The door opened and they both turned toward the door. A short man with an angry face entered the room. “I’m going to venture a guess that this is not him either. Who could your mystery man be? Will you be mean to him too?”

“Of course I won’t because the man I’m meeting is nothing like you. He’s kind and sweet and a much better man than you.”

“Except that he’s stood you up, it’s bad form to leave a lady waiting.”

“If he’s not here, then he has a good reason. Because there isn’t a mean bone in his entire body. But you wouldn’t know that because you’re just a jerk in a leather jacket who thinks he’s better than everyone else.” She turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And that’s my cue to leave.” He said softly, in a voice that sounded almost disappointed. But Emma didn’t care, all she wanted was to be alone.

~*~

“Somewhere inside that hard exterior must be the same woman who writes to you online, maybe underneath it all she’s just…”

“A real bitch.” He replied to Belle. “Can we not talk about Emma Swan? I’m going back to the office.” He said with annoyance, walking out of the back office and slipping out of the store onto the street. He hated that this woman was still driving him mad. She was a thorn in his side, infuriating, and troublesome and yet all he could think about was the way she wrote to him, the way he waited anxiously just to see that message pop up on screen.

More than anything, he missed her.

~*~

“So, he stood you up?” Ruby said angrily.

“Or he got injured.” Emma interjected and Will laughed. “Seriously, what if he had an accident on the way to restaurant? What if he’s lying in a hospital bed right now?”

“What if he’s a bloody murderer and he was meeting up with you to kill you?”

“Will!” Ruby exclaimed.

“I’m not bloody kidding, remember that murder at my apartment a few weeks back? They caught the guy, last night!” He pulled out his phone, searching for the information and holding up the screen to show them a picture of the man who was arrested the previous night.

“Oh my God.” Emma said cupping her hand over her mouth.

“Emma, that’s not him.” Ruby said rolling her eyes.

“But what if it is.”

“You’re making excuses, so you don’t feel sad about getting stood up, I get it, I do.”

Emma frowned; she knew her friend was right. She was sad, and maybe a little bit angry at JR10 for standing her up. Even though he hadn’t sent her a message since last night, perhaps she needed to let him know how she felt.

Lonelygirl: I’m thinking about you. Last night I went to meet you and you didn’t show up. I wish I could understand why. I feel like such a fool. But while I waited for you to arrive, another man showed up. A man who has effectively been trying to ruin my professional life. But the most amazing thing happened, for the first time in my life, I was able to say exactly what I wanted at exactly the right time. But just as you said, I immediately felt regret for saying them. I was mean, and I’m never mean. And even if it didn’t hurt him, because honestly, he just thinks of me as a bug to crush under his feet, but what if it did hurt him? I behaved badly and that made me sad. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I consider you a dear friend, and I hope you had a good reason for not being there tonight, but if you didn’t and we never speak again, then I want you to know how much this time with you has meant to me. How much it has meant just to know you were there.

Emma shut down her laptop, wiping the tears from her eyes and crawling into bed.

~*~

Killian paced in front of his desk, reading the message from Emma again. He stopped for a moment, glaring at the screen before walking away and getting a bottle of rum from his kitchen. He poured a glass and took a sip. He wasn’t going to reply to her. He would just let it end this way and be done with this charade.

He poured another glass and walked toward his desk, turning sharply, and heading to the living room. Sitting down on the couch he turned on the television and his vision blurred to the sounds of some mindless television show playing out ridiculous scenes on screen.

Sipping his glass, he swallowed, the warm liquid coating his throat as it slid into his belly. “Fuck.” He cursed, standing up and walking back to his desk. Looking at the screen he re-read the message from Emma for the fourth time that evening.

Fine, he thought. I’m actually going to do this.

JR10: I’m in Vancouver.

He laughed and hit the backspace button, deleting what he had written.

JR10: I was stuck in a meeting; a microburst took out the entire block so there was no way I could reach out.

“Ridiculous.” He said out loud, erasing the message again.

JR10: I cannot explain what happened last night, but I feel terrible, love. I wasn’t there for you and instead I caused you more pain. I’m sure that whatever you said last night was provoked, even deserved. You expected to find someone you trusted and met the enemy instead. I truly am sorry; the fault is mine alone. I hope that one day I will be able to explain to you what happened, in the meantime, I’m here for you. Please talk to me.

~*~

“So, he didn’t tell you why he didn’t show up?”

“Nope, just that he would explain another time.”

“Sounds like a scam to me.” Ruby said, biting her lip.

Mrs. Lucas cleared her throat. “What have you decided, dear?”

Emma frowned, sipping her tea slowly. “I don’t think we have a choice. We’re going to have to close.”

“Emma, I’m so sorry.” Ruby offered beside her.

“I feel like such a failure, like I’m just giving up, letting him win. It feels like mom is…”

“Oh, sweet girl, closing the store doesn’t keep her alive. No matter how much you want it to.”

Emma cried that evening, staring at empty shelves, barren walls, a darkened store that would forever be gone. She imagined her mother, looking down at her while she danced in circles around her legs. Had she really lost or was this just her being brave? Maybe trying something new was the brave thing to do? Letting go of the past, her safety net.

As she sat across from August, staring at him while he spoke between bites, she realized that for the first time in her life, she could be anything that she wanted.

“I have an Amazon prime account.” She announced.

He paused, “What?”

“I know, I know, they are evil incarnate, but when I buy something, I get it the next day and that’s pretty awesome and I should have told you, but I didn’t.” She let the statement hang in the air.

“Since when do you shop online?”

“I know, I suppose you could never be with someone that buys items online from large corporations.”

He laughed. “Forget about it, I forgive you. It’s fine.”

Emma glared at him. “You forgive me?” She took a long drink of her wine while August stared at her with concern growing on his face.

“What’s wrong Emma?” Suddenly the dam burst, and tears started to stream down her face. “Hey, don’t do that. Emma, it’s alright. This has been a tough week with the store closing.”

“It’s not that though, August, I need…”

“That was insensitive of me.”

Emma sniffled. “What was?”

“To bring up the store, when you’re having a hard time and I’m the one who’s…” He took a quick drink and reached out to take her hand. “Emma I don’t know how to say this. I think you are an amazing person, and honestly I’m so honored that you chose me because I know that means something to you and…”

“You don’t love me.” She said suddenly realizing what he was trying to tell her. He frowned, squeezing her hand and Emma burst into a fit of giggles. “That’s wonderful news, I don’t love you either.”

“But we’re so right for each other.” He mused.

“I know, it doesn’t make sense. Is there someone else?”

“Nothing that’s happened, but there is a woman, I don’t know. What about you? Is there someone else for you?”

Emma sighed sadly. “No, but there is the dream of someone else.”

[presentmicsongbird]

Jealous Bakugo x reader

“Oi dumbass!” 

You groaned as you heard the voice call out from behind you. You haven’t left his side for more than two minutes and already he was on your tail.

“Hey, didn’t you hear me squirt?! Don’t ignore me, y/n!”

“Uh...y/n, I think kaachan wants to-“ you cut Midoriya off from stating the very obvious. You knew very well he wanted to talk to you. But after the stunt he pulled yesterday, you were determined to give him the cold shoulder until he gave you a proper apology. 

“I know, Deku.” You spoke at a volume that you knew could be heard over Bakugo’s screaming. ”Just ignore him, I’m not in the mood to talk to Pomeranians with anger issues.” You took a glance at said Pomeranian only to see him glaring daggers at both you and the green haired boy. 

You inwardly smirked as you turned once more to head into class, an angry boyfriend following soon after. As soon as the three were seated, the explosion hero decided once more to try and get you to talk to him, but was soon silenced when Aizawa entered the room. 

“Alright everybody, stop talking. I’ve got a few announcements to make for your next training, so listen up.” 

The homeroom teacher’s words fell onto deaf ears, Bakugo’s ears to be exact…All he could think about was the way you leaned on your desk, head resting on your hand as you listened intently to what Aizawa sensei was saying. Your slender legs crossed beneath your desk, your foot tapping away at a beat only you can hear, a stray hair tickled your ear, but you made no move to brush it away. Your soft lips were kept in a straight line, smiling slightly at a joke Kaminari made.

wait…you laughed at that Pikachu’s joke? 

A low growl rumbled in his throat, clenching his fists to keep him from acting up in front of their teacher. Fortunately, he finished his announcement, and turned to leave to let the next teacher in. The moment he left, Katsuki sharply turned his head to glare at the blonde, only to see him still making jokes and getting more quiet giggles out of you. 

Now THAT…made his blood boil even more. You were HIS! HE’s the one who should be making you laugh, not that short-circuit blondie. 

Kaminari must’ve felt the burning at the back of his head because as soon as his eyes met Bakugo’s, all color drained from his face and quickly shut his mouth. Whether it was the tiny explosions blasting in his hands or the daggers he was glaring at his now trembling body, it definitely got his point across too 

Stay. Away. From. You. 

The ash blonde student smirked as his quirk died down, but it was soon wiped off his face as his eyes met your e/c ones. No longer did they hold the laughter you had a few seconds ago, your lips now turned into a scowl as you glared back at your boyfriend. 

Honestly, you couldn’t even wait until after School? 

Realizing his mistake, you see him ‘tsk’ and turn his head away from both of you. Thankfully, the new teacher came in and told the class to take out your textbooks. You sighed and shook your head, wondering if it was really a good idea to keep giving him the silent treatment. 

Wait…yes…

Yes it was. 

As the teacher went over the lesson, your mind wandered to the events that lead up to this. Which, surprisingly, was too much for one day. 

Let’s see…

The two of you had decided to go on a date yesterday since it was the weekend and neither of you had and homework. Bakugo even suggested (more like demanded) to meet up at the cafe early to get the best seats in the back. You found it really sweet, even though he practically growled it out thought the phone call. 

Still, the morning went without a hitch, you got your favorite drinks, your favorite comfy spot in the back, and even the little dessert that was always sold out when you came by after school. Heck, Bakugo didn’t even make his usual comments about the drinks and treats being too sweet, or too powdery. He even asked you if you had wanted more. Since it was too early for the regular customers coming in, you said yes. You believed that nothing could go wrong today. 

Oh boy…why didn’t you knock on wood?

After ordering one more cookie, (to save for later), the two of you wanted to watch the new movie that came out just a few weeks back. You were so excited that, you hadn’t even noticed one of the baristas coming over to your table. 

“Here’s your order, hope you enjoy.” You looked away from Katsuki to grab the little paper bag from him, smiling as you said your thanks. He of course smiles back politely. Before he could say another word, Bakugo beat you to it. 

“Alright, that’s enough twerp. Quit eyeing my damn date and go back to your job.” 

The barista was taken aback and struggled to say a shaky apology. Poor thing looked like he was about to pee himself. He turned back to face you, about to apologize again, but Bakugo’s voice cut through again. 

“OI, I SAID BEAT IT KID! Or should I get my point across another way?” Tiny explosions boomed from his outstretched hand. It wasn’t enough to trigger the fire alarms, thank goodness, but was more than enough to send the barista running. 

Bakugo, of course, laughed it off and continued to ask what time you two should watch the movie. You looked at him in disbelief. 

“Bakugo!” 

“What? He was looking at you like a piece of candy. Be more thankful I got him off your back.” He shrugged his shoulders, while continuing to munch on his treat. 

“He wasn’t and you know it.” You countered. “Poor guy was just handing me my order. You didn’t have to use your quirk, geez.” You slumped on your seat and crossed your arms as your boyfriend took your tray and dumped out the trash. 

“Alright, let’s go. We got a few hours before the movie start, but might as well get going if we wanna buy tickets. We can eat at that buffet restaurant for lunch and then have dinner at my place, how does that sound? I’ll cook.” You sighed and got up from your seat, taking the cookie bag while avoiding Bakugo’s gaze. 

“Sure, C’mon.” You glanced up only to see his red eyes widen, before shaking his head and following you out the door. 

On the walk to the train station, avoided his gaze even more and turned your head when he got up in your face. The explosion quirked student tried to coax you to get you to talk to him, but you stayed silent. You heard him sigh, then moved to stand in front of you, causing you to crash into his chest. 

“Hey! What’s the big id-“

“Oh, now you finally talk.” You blushed and pouted up at him. He bent down to your height with his hands in his pockets. “What’s your issue now, squirt?”  He asked while gently flicking your forehead. 

“You were mean to the barista and you didn’t even apologize!” 

“Apologize? Seriously? You’re still mad about that?” 

“Yes, I’m still mad! You didn’t have to use your quirk back there, and he most certainly WASN’T flirting with me.” 

“What’re you saying? Are you actually taking his damn side?!” 

“I never said that! I’m just saying you didn’t have to be mean to him!” 

You pretty sure both of you were screaming at this point. You had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and there’s no doubt that you’ve already attracted the attention of a crowd. 

“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t talk to, Bakugo! And you honestly can’t expect me not to talk to boys other than you!” 

“Yes I can!” 

“No. You. Can’t!” 

“I’m your boyfriend, y/n! It’s my job to keep pervs like him away from you. You’re mine!” 

“Pervs sure! I can accept that. But NOT friggin polite baristas who was just handing me my order!” 

“Damnit, y/n, can’t you STOP with that barista crap?” Katsuki’s eyes were completely full of rage now. “What, do you like him now or somethin? Is that it?” 

“WHAT?!” Seriously, where in All Might’s name did he get that from? “No. I don’t! ARGH! Why can’t stop being so controlling?” 

“I’ll stop being controlling when YOU stop being a damn brat for once and just do what I tell you?!” 

Oh…

That. Was. IT! 

Before you could blink, a loud slap was heard, and you felt a slight stinging in your palm. Opening your eyes that you didn’t even know were closed, you saw Bakugo’s head turned to the side, eyes blinking as he let your actions sink in. 

You felt a slight guilt in your gut, but you pushed it back down. 

“Y/n, I-“ 

“You can forget about today, Bakugo. I’m going home.” Before you could let him follow, you turned around and threw the paper bag at his face, running fast and as far away from him as possible. You made sure, he didn’t see a single tear roll down your cheek. 

You had put your phone on silent the moment you got home, not wanting it to keep dinging while you cried your eyes out.

Who did he think he is anyway? He was right, he is your boyfriend. But that gave him no excuse to say what he did back there. He’s just...just...

“ARRGHHH!” Your screams were muffled by the pillow your were crying on, thankful no one was home today. Needless to say...you really shouldn’t have thrown that cookie at him. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the lunch bell ringing loudly. You shook your head and blinked away the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. 

“Hey y/n, you coming along?” Asked Uraraka. 

“You guy go on ahead, I’m gonna do fix some stuff.” 

“Alright, see you later!” She waved while walking off with Iida and Deku.

It was a lie, obviously …Since it was lunch time, Maybe...Bakugo would finally give you a proper apo-

He’s gone...

You really should’ve known better. You sighed once more and packed your books, wondering if maybe…it’d be best if you…well…you DID slap his face in the middle of the sidewalk…and threw the cookie at him…and.

“Oi squirt!” You jumped in your seat and quickly grabbed your chest. “Geez, you’re gonna be a future hero, but you’re get scared of me going up in your-“ 

He stopped talking once he noticed your angry glare once more. Katuski grumbled and rubbed the back of his neck, turning away and avoiding your heated gaze.  

“Listen…just….I’m sorry, okay?” 

Oh?

“I know…I was a jerk yesterday, and…YES! I didn’t have to say those damn things to the barista…and you.” 

OH!

“It was a dumb thing to say and you’re not a brat. You’re not a puppet for me to control either. ” He staggered with his words, his voice almost sounded like it was cracking…but Bakugo still didn’t meet your eyes. 

You had to keep yourself from smiling. Guess he had it in him after all. Before you could tell him that he didn’t need to say more, he continued on.

“I was just…Jealous….I hated the fact that other guys were looking at you and making you smile, and that I’M not the one at the receiving end of it.” 

“Bakugo-“ 

“You should be allowed to talk to your other friends…even though they’re not me. And I understand if…if you…

“Baku-“

“IF YOU WANNA BREAK UP WITH ME, THEN I GET IT! I just wanted to apologize for…well….everything…and for the other times I-“ 

“BAKUGO!” 

“WHAT?!” 

You pulled at his collar and pulled in him for a kiss, Bakugo freezing for a split second before returning it. He pulled away first. 

“W-Wait…why did yo-“

 “You’re forgiven too, hot head.” You finally gave him the smile he loved so much and gave his cheek a quick peck. “And…I’m sorry too for slapping you in the face and throwing the cookie bag at you.” He chuckled, and kissed your forehead. 

“It’s fine squirt, I deserved it. I’ll buy you another one next time.” 

“Does this mean, you’ll apologize to the barista too?” 

“Don’t push it.” He’ll cross that bridge when he gets there….probably. 

[fire-mage-719]

I made a little story for FireMage the character in @fazbear-ent-official 's FNAF RP blog, pertaining to the type of stuff I think would fit what I want from their character. It's pretty long so I'll leave it below the cut.

I just sort of sat down and wrote something out in an hour or two, so there's probably a few mistakes or something. Above all I wanted to make it work with what everyone's done with the "universe" so far but also make it work (as someone who likes timelines and stories that makes sense).

I'm going to reblog it with a TLDR, and a sort of explanation as to my thought process and how it can work with everything. Doesn't have to be canon in the RP, but I think it might open up more RP opprotunities/paths or something. IDK, I haven't done this sort of thing before. Anyways enjoy.

William sighed before he left the building. The sound of arcade machines, a distant song, and children echoing in the short distance behind him. Exiting the dark building, he shielded his eyes and squinted as he was suddenly bashed by the intense sunlight.

It was a glorious and sunny day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the blue expanse cradling the unwieldy and bright sun. The building, his establishment, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, blocked out all the lights for bright neon signs and shiny decor and moving party lights. The outside was a stark contrast.

Beyond just the sight was the smell. Inside smelled like pizza and soda, candies with enough sugar content to kill anyone in a nursing home, and a tinge of childly stench. Out here it smelled like fire, smoke, and meat. Not just any meat, but good barbecued hotdogs and hamburgers, a steak maybe, a pork rib, William couldn’t tell anymore, really. It was just savory and honestly, a very good palate cleanser to the rubbish that they sold inside.

Manning the grill was a tall figure. They wore an astronaut suit, pale white, with no flags or logos. No NASA logo, no indication that they had ever been to space, and in the end, it didn’t particularly matter. No one seemed to really mind, William the least. Especially with the reason that he hired them for. Though they did intently wish for two more additions to their apparel: a Freddy Fazbear branded apron and a nametag that read “FireMage”.

“Fire, I need you to do what I hired you for,” William sighed, his arm still shielding his eyes from the sun. “Not whatever you’ve got setup here.”

“All due respect sir, someone came in with a t-bone and said they’d pay me more than you would in a week to cook it,” The astronaut said.

The astronaut turned away from the grill, pointing the burger flipper at William.

“A week, boss. Like, rich white ladies are nuts, but money is money,” Fire said, turning back to the grill and plating a few burgers. “Besides, you’ve got a lot more business lately, despite all your goings on. I would like to think it’s thanks to me.”

William grimaced as Fire took the last burger off the grill and onto a bun. William’s eyes were focused on the t-bone that the astronaut mentioned until Fire had closed the grill.

“Besides, I take care of whatever you ask no matter what,” Fire said, turning to look at William.

It was slightly concerning, not being able to look them in the eyes. Even with the animatronics, William was able to look into the glassy fake orbs, but the visor to Fire’s helmet blocked anything but William’s own reflection. Used to the light now, William watched his mirror image let his arm down.

“If you can even remember what that initially was for,” Fire continued, leaning against the grill.

William went to open his mouth, but shut it. He couldn’t remember.

“Is it that you can’t remember, or that you haven’t been made to remember yet?” Fire asked.

William snapped, “Don’t do that. Just… go in and do what I asked, yeah?”

William turned for the handle of the door. Fire was arguably one of the easiest of his employees to deal with. Casual, respectable, and above all somehow able to get away with an odd amount of things, Fire was… one of the least suspicious people at any establishment. Whichever establishment that Afton was at, they seemed to be there. No one minded the obviously fake name, the obviously out of the ordinary outfit, and the odd comments that seemed to slip beyond most peoples’ notice.

“Mr. Afton, I have to ask, what’s up with the sudden influx of employees?” Fire retorted.

William paused and looked back, not angry, but a bit annoyed.

“I don’t know. Must have been Henry or Willow. They’re in charge of new employees.”

“Besides me,” Fire chirped.

William smiled, a bit sarcastically, “Yes. Besides you.”

“I would say that they act oddly in regards to the establishment, wouldn’t you agree?”

Fire started to approach William Afton, and though William knew that Fire wouldn’t do anything, he let go of the door knob and turned to meet their gaze… or as much of a gaze that they could have. Fire stopped a few feet away, and William let himself relax, not realizing the tension he had in his jaw.

“I mean… yes. They do seem odd. That’s nothing too out of the ordinary,” William said back in a neutral tone.

“And there’s that new establishment even, the what…” Fire rested one of their hands on their hip, snapping with the other for a few moments before it clicked. “The Pizza-plex!”

William’s brows came together in confusion, he himself not knowing quite what they were getting at.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, can’t you see? We shouldn’t be anywhere near the Pizza-plex yet!” Fire said exasperated. “We have a location with Toy Animatronics, with the Original Gang, we have the Funtime animatronics hanging out somewhere, none of this aligns!”

William sighed, looking up to the blue sky. If he just waited them out, they would be done, and he could go back inside. They weren’t even wasting time, since no one would interfere with what Fire was meant to do anyways.

“I don’t get what you mean,” He let his head drop to look down at Fire.

His heart skipped a beat when William saw Fire in front of him, grabbing his upper arms, holding him in place.

“Everything is wrong! I thought that something was off when I first got here, but now everything is wrong! All these things existing at once don’t coincide with the story at all!” Fire said. “None of the characters are in the right places! None of the events! The employees that appeared out of nowhere, they’re a part of this somehow!”

“Look, let me go,” William said, not struggling too much to let the astronaut let go of his arms. “I get it, you only agreed to work and do my odd jobs because… well…”

“You don’t remember how I got here, Afton,” Fire said, voice stale and monotone.

“I mean yeah, ok, I don’t!” William exclaimed. “Something is going on! I get it! But I don’t get what’s the deal! That hasn’t been an issue before. Sure! We got some weird employees! That one person with the rats, and that one person who got “adopted by Mr. Hippo”, and the one who started a wrestling ring, but that’s nothing huge!”

“But nothing has changed, yet,” Fire said. “The days go in and out, funky little things happen. But nothing moves forward. The days keep coming. The sun shines. You come out here and ask me to step away from my precious grill and clean up one of your little messes… that you don’t seem to be getting caught or suspicion for, despite the fact that it seems to be well known that Freddy’s is at least a slightly sketchy place.”

“Business is booming!” Afton sighed.

“Exactly!” Fire shouted. “It shouldn’t be!”

“What are you saying? I’m doomed to fail?” William laughed.

“In more ways than one,” Fire said plainly.

William didn’t like that statement, and glared at the astronaut. Fire walked forward, up to Afton.

“You and I can’t remember anything, but out of everyone, we seem to understand that there’s more than meets the eye going on. We’re stuck here, until something happens in this broken universe,” Fire said, inches from Afton, looking down on the man.

“Alright then. And what are we supposed to do about it?” Afton asked.

“Nothing. We can’t do anything. We’re nothing more than perversion, an offshoot of some original universe.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” Afton said, aggravated. “All the weird kids to go away? For me to finish my plans?”

“We’re waiting for the story to continue, of course,” Fire turned away.

They walked back to the grill, where sitting propped up next to it was a flamethrower. Dangerous to have next to a grill, to say the least, but William Afton never saw the astronaut without their flamethrower close by.

“There’s got to be some bigger plot point coming along. Something to move us all forward. We have to be going somewhere, but maybe it isn’t out yet. Whatever was going to come next, after Ultimate Custom Night. Before I got here,” Fire continued, returning to Afton.

“You’re making even less sense now,” Afton said, looking with concern down at the flamethrower. “You make it sound like, I don’t know, we’re just waiting for God to come roll the dice and choose what comes next.”

“Not God,” Fire said.

They looked away from Afton. Past him. Past the road. Past the buildings. Past the blue skies. Into the eyes of someone, into the eyes of you.

“No, someone else,” Fire returned their gaze to William. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. That everyone here is a puppet, or a pawn, of some sort. They know who you are, they know what you do, and they might know who each other are. They’re making a story, here, and it’s leading somewhere. Too many things don’t line up with what I know is true, and even the mysteries I don’t aren’t explained.”

William just stopped at that point. He was wondering if they had waited too long, and the cleanup would be harder. Though, he thought, it wasn’t his job to clean up.

“There isn’t anything beyond the locations. There’s nothing more than the world that revolves around you and Henry and the employees,” Fire poked William in the chest. “And the world never moves on. When did you make the Pizza-plex? Don’t answer, I know you don’t know. Why didn’t you shut down the Toy location? Don’t think about it? Here’s an important question, William Afton, how are the kids?”

William would have snapped. Would have grabbed Fire by the apron and strangled them with it. He was angry, but he didn’t know why. He was also sad. Afton stumbled backwards, into the wall. He didn’t know how he felt, it was a cacophony of emotions like an echochamber of butterflies eating at his insides. He looked up at Fire, who just looked down.

“We’re all waiting for them to continue the plot, Mr. Afton. And until they do, you and I are stuck in this little world. And unfortunately, knowing we’re in it, means we’re never escaping it,” Fire kneeled down, their voice soft. “I knew even before I came here about what you were up to. Your employees and coworkers don’t know what’s going on, but they’re too comfy with the nature of this place. I don’t particularly care about what you do, because according to the story, you are meant to complete these tasks.”

Fire offered their free hand to Afton. He looked at it, confused but accepting it nonetheless.

“Until the REAL story ends… and this place ends too… I’m here to make sure you achieve whatever it is to finish it properly.”

“What, like a little henchman?” Afton scoffed as Fire pulled the man to his feet.

“No, more like…” Fire considered for a bit, trying to hold their gaze on Afton and not pull past him, past the world. “More like plot armor.”

“For no other purpose than continuing some story?” Afton continued.

“For finishing the story.”

Fire turned their head to the door, as if they heard something. They slung the flamethrower over their back and walked over to the grill. They closed up the burgers, and opened the lid to the grill. The sizzling meat’s smell wafted over Afton, calming him a bit. Fire flipped it before lowering the lid, and turning to Afton.

“Mr. Afton I hope you remember, in the future, the real reason you hired me. How you got to this point. I hope the story becomes concise for you, because as someone who also does not remember their past… or how the story works… I know it is painful,” Fire picked up the burgers. “Above all, since only you and I seem to notice that something is up, we need to be there when one of us remembers something. Because most likely, it’s not us remembering, it’s us being told to remember.”

“Being told to remember?” Afton questioned, before regretting it. “You know what? Enough. I don’t know how we even GOT this far into whatever crazy conversation this is.”

“Me neither,” Fire shrugged. “It’s something seems to drive the plot of the universe it seems.”

Fire stopped and looked at the door. As they did, it opened. It was Willow, one of three people that Fire referred to as “boss”.

“You have that steak done?” Willow asked.

“Nope, got the burgers though,” Fire motioned by raising them up. “Boss-man Afton here and I were just chatting it up.”

“Alrighty, hurry it up on that steak if you can. And if you don’t mind, William, one of the animatronics is acting up and we need you to look at it. Something about smelling bad as well,” Willow said.

Fire looked at William, whose demeanor changed. He suddenly had a kind smile on, and seemed as if he didn’t have an oddly meta conversation.

“Of course. You go Willow, I’ll get the door for Fire.”

Willow nodded and left, letting the door close behind them.

William looked at Fire with a raised brow. Fire nodded to the door.

“You gonna get that?”

Afton rolled his eyes and opened the door. He went inside, holding it open as Fire walked through. Once Fire entered the dark corridor of the poorly lit building, crossing the threshold, they stopped. They turned their head and moved their body to look back out the door.

Once again they stared at nothing. But was looking right at you.

That is, until the back door to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza slammed shut.

[dubersbutt]

He Doesn’t Have to Know - Nathan Mackinnon

Summary: Nate is a bartender working a slow shift when you walk in.

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: cheating, smut, the works

Tuesday nights. Nate had a love-hate relationship with the shift. On one hand, he mostly got paid to sit around and do nothing because hardly anyone showed up. On the other hand, few people meant few tips, and he got bored really easily.

He and Ej are messing around in the back when you walk in. He “accidentally” poured a glass of water on Ej’s chest which created a dilemma when your uniform consisted of a thin white dress shirt.

“Are you kidding me, man,” he says as he rolls his eyes, “you gotta take her, man. I can’t go out like this.”

“Are you sure?” Nate teases, “you might get a bigger tip looking like that, Magic Mike.”

“Shut up and go, dumbass.”

Nate laughs as he walks out the door. The first thing he notices about you is how well you’re dressed - which isn’t surprising considering everyone who comes here is rich and he assumes you’re no different. The second thing the notices is the gigantic ring on your finger, a ring that screamed “TAKEN” from a mile away.

“Evening ma’am,” he greets, “what can I get you?”

He watches your eyes travel up and down his body. Nate’s a good looking guy - played hockey when he was younger, goes to the gym every day - and his uniform hugs him in all the right places. Sure he could go up a size in shirts, but if he’s totally honest, he doesn’t mind the stares.

“Cosmo,” you say after a slight pause.

“Yes ma’am,” he starts on your drink and your smile. That’s when he notices, your nails, lipstick and dress are all the same shade of deep red that compliments your skin tone.

“Pretty lonely down here,” you say as he hands you his drink.

He shrugs, “I don’t mind. It means that I can talk with a pretty girl like you.”

So Nate flirted with married women every once in a while. He needed the tips!

“Oh, I bet you say that to all the ladies,” you reply as you bring your drink to your lips.

“Only the breathtakingly beautiful ones,” and he’s not lying. He doesn’t really flirt with anyone he doesn’t find attractive. And you were striking.

Just then, an immaculately dressed man walks in. His suit is some high-end brand Nate doesn’t know the name of but can recognize that it probably costs the same amount he paid for his car. His shoes are some soft leather without any creases and the face of his watch takes up his entire wrist. Dude was bougie.

He walks over to you and gives you a kiss on the cheek. So this must be the owner of the ring, Nate thinks.

“What can I get for you, sir?”

“Didn’t my wife already order for me,” he asks as he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling.

“No, sir.”

“Maybe you weren’t listening,” he replies as he taps his ear.

Nate takes a deep breath but you cut in before he can say anything.

“No, dear, your drink order changes every night, how would I know what you wanted,”  if Nate’s not mistaken there’s a slight bite to your voice.

The other man rolls his eyes, “scotch, neat.”

Nate takes a deep breath as he gets out the glass and realizes he never specified which scotch he wanted. He chooses the most expensive one and pours it into the glass. He slides it across the bar, which is the best part of his job even when the customers are dicks.

“I asked for this on the rocks,” he says he shakes the drink in Nate’s face.

Nate knows he didn’t but he’s also been doing this long enough to realize there’s no point in arguing and takes the glass to put one of the large round ice cubes from the freezer.

“Anything else I can get you?” Nate asks and prays that’s all you need.

“That’s all for now,” you say, cutting off your husband and Nate rushes to the back before he can say anything.

“Douchebag?” EJ asks while rubbing a towel on his still damp chest.

“Obviously.”

“You should have punched him.”

“I wanted to,” Nate replies as he runs his hand through his hair.

He and Ej chat for 20 minutes before Nate knows he should go out to check on you two. He tries to get Ej to do it but-

“I would rather stick my foot in the fryer than talk that man.”

And Nate would feel bad if Ej stuck his foot in the dryer because of him so he goes out instead.

When he gets outside his drink is relatively untouched and he has a stack of money in his hand.

“The cheque,” he demands and Nate walks over to the till to print it.

Thankfully he doesn’t have an argument about the prices - Nate really doesn’t think he can handle the “I just work here I don’t run the place” conversation right now.

“Are you coming with me?” he asks you after placing money in the cheque book. Surprise, surprise, he’s a lousy tipper.

“I’ve barely touched my drink.”

“Well I have to go, I’ll see you at home?”

You just nod your head and extend your neck for him to kiss your cheek. You watch as he leaves and as soon as he’s out the door you turn to Nate.

“I’m sorry about my husband,” you say holding a small piece of paper in between your fingers, “he’s a...difficult man. This should make up for his behaviour.”

He takes it and when he unfolds it he sees a 50 dollar bill.

“Are you su-“ he starts to ask but you hold up a hand, stopping him.

“Take it,” and so he does.

He starts to clean up your husband’s dishes, picking up the glass and dropping the contents in the sink. Such a waste of good scotch he thinks sadly.

“Now I hope you know that a 50 dollar tip means that you have to stay out here and talk to me.”

“I would’ve done it for free,” and he would’ve.

“It’s a small price to pay to watch your ass in that suit,” you say bringing your cup to your lips and smirking at him over the rim.

He almost drops the glass.

“Aren’t you married?”

You shrug, “he’s out right now parading himself with other women. He thinks he’s discreet but he’s not. If he can do it, why can’t I?”

Nate walks over to the bar to stand in front of you. He tries to think of anything witty to say at all but is at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable,” you say, “I never was good at holding my tongue.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so absolutely stunning,” he says with a slight shrug.

You laugh, “careful there, Nathaniel,” he assumes you read his name card on his chest, his boss doesn’t allow them to put nicknames on the card, “you’re flirting with a married woman.”

“You said yourself that he’s with other women, so what’s the harm in a little flirting.”

“What time do you end here, Nathaniel?”

“Not until 1 but I can probably get out of here sooner for you…”

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N),” he finishes, “give me a few minutes.”

He sprints to the back room and pushes open the door, startling EJ.

“Was she a dick too?” he asks.

“No, actually, she gave me a 50 dollar tip and invited me to her apartment so, uh, I’m gonna head out. You’ll be fine here right?” he says so quickly he barely understands himself.

Ej just blinks, “I’m sorry she what? Invited you to her apartment?”

“Yeah, or house, or whatever. She didn’t exactly explain what she wanted to do I just assumed she meant hooking up,” he says and realizes he might be an idiot.

Ej gives him a look, “what if she’s an axe murderer.”

“Well then I read the situation very wrong, but I don’t think I did,” he grabs his coat from the coat hook, “do me a favour though if I don’t respond to you by noon tomorrow then call the cops.”

Ej sighs, “fine but I get half your tips next time we work together cause you're leaving me alone.”

“Not half.”

“Fine a quarter.”

He really doesn’t want to do that but he really, really does not want to keep you waiting so he agrees and pulls on his coat as he leaves.

“I’m good to go,” he says as he hears Ej follow him out.

“Perfect,” you say as you down the rest of your drink and hop down from the barstool.

He follows you out of the restaurant, appreciating the way your dress hugs your body. If you turned out to be an axe murderer he was going to be so mad.

“So, uh where’s your apartment?” He asks once the chilly Denver air hits him.

“Patience, Nathaniel,” you say as you start walking, “can I call you that?”

He doesn’t usually like people calling him by his full name, but it sounds so good from you so he doesn’t mind it.

“I only ask because it’s a bit of a mouthful to scream, isn’t it?”

Nate has to take a deep breath to stop himself from pressing you up against the wall right there and then, “Nate, is good too.”

You grab his hand and lead him into your apartment building moments later. Your hand stays loosely attached to his wrist as you greet the security guard and walk into the elevator.

He’s taken by surprise when the doors close and you pull him close to press your lips to his gently. You’ve undone his jacket before he realizes it.

You take a perfectly manicured finger down his thin dress shirt. His breath catches in his throat when you pull him closer by his belt loops.

“This shirt is too tight on you, you know.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at all,” you reply as to bring him in for another kiss.

He holds you against the wall, kissing you slowly until the elevator doors open.

When the doors open you’re greeted by a small fluffy black cat that runs into the elevator, purring as it rubs itself against your ankles.

“Hi, baby,” you coo as you pick it up and walk out, “the bedroom is the last door on the left. I need to check on her food, be naked by the time I get there.”

Nate follows your instructions and sure enough, the last door on the left is the master bedroom. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was expected but you have the biggest bed he’d ever seen. He strips out of his shirt and pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He lounges on the bed and, honestly, it’s so comfortable he almost falls asleep.

He hears the door open and then you’re stepping into the room and throwing yourself on his lap.

“Fuck you’re hot,” you say as you straddle his waist and lean down to kiss him, “but this is not naked.”

You snap his briefs against his skin lightly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

You hum against his skin as you trail kisses his down his neck. He lets out a small moan your teeth scrape against his neck. You slide down his body, kissing as you go. His dick is just trying to chub in his briefs when you settle yourself between his legs. He lifts his hips to help him shimmy out of them.

He’s not expecting it when you jerk him slowly, teasing him. You wrap your lips around the tip, looking at him as you suck hard. His hand comes to grip the back of your head. His hips come up to thrust down your throat but you push his hips down with your hands.

“Nuh-uh,” you say as you pull off his dick, “Be good.”

“What if I’m not?”

“Then I’ll spank you,” you wink at him before you take him back into your throat.

He can’t tell if you’re joking but the thought shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does.

He tries to even out his breathing when you push your head past the sphincter of your throat and his fingers are scratching at the back of your head. Your hands are still holding his hips, nails digging into them. He moans as your mouth gets more and more wet. He wants to buck hips but you keep him from doing so. Spit and pre-cum dribble out the side of your mouth. Your eyes water as you fuck yourself on his cock. He has to pull on your head to get you to stop before he blows his load.

“You could have cum on my face,” and Nate almost cums right then and there.

“As good as that sounds, I really want to fuck you.”

You let out a short laugh as you crawl up his body to kiss him. His hands come up to caress your body when he realizes that you’re still wearing your dress. He wants to rip it off you but it probably costs more than his rent so he asks you to take it off.

The second the straps fall from your shoulder, he’s reaching up to bite at the exposed skin of your shoulder.

“No marks,” you say while pulling on the short hair at the back of his neck.

“It looks like your cat clawed my hips,” he says as he helps pull the dress off your body.

You let out an annoyed huff, “That’s different.”

When the dress is off he flips you over, kissing the valley between your breasts. He reaches around you to unclasp your bra, unhooking it with practised ease.

“Got a lot of experience there, Nathaniel?” you tease.

He just smirks and slips his hand in between your legs, under the waistband of your thong. He finger dips between your folds and he lets out a groan when he feels how wet you are.

“All this just from blowing me?” he groans huskily in your ear, “I wonder what would happen if you sat on my face.”

You whine, “Fuck, next time, I just want you to fuck me.”

He pumps his finger in and out a few times before he lines himself with your entrance and pushes in slowly. You tap on his ass to tell him to move and he wastes no time, fucking you hard and heavy. Each thrust pushes a moan out of you.

“Nate,” you moan as he reaches up and grips the headboard for leverage. He can feel you clenching around him. He reaches down to rub circles into your clit which makes you wrap your legs around his body.

Another moan leaves your body, “Nate, Nate, Nate don’t stop.”

“Cum for me baby,” he groans in your ear. He can’t wrap his hand around your throat like he wants so he’ll settle for gripping your chin to kiss you furiously. He’s conflicted between wanting to hear your moans and wanting to keep kissing you.

Your hands claw at his neck and shoulders as you near your orgasm, dropping your head back to savour the pleasure.

“Come all over me, baby,” he grunts and that’s all you need before you come hard, jerking in his arms as your orgasm hits you. Nate can feel your juices coating his thighs and that’s what makes him lose it, fucking into as he cums. A shiver runs down your spins as you feel him spill himself into you.

It takes him a minute to catch his breath before he slips out of you and lays down beside you. You catch his chin in your hand and turn his head to so you can kiss him. He grips your hip and pulls you in by hiking your thigh over his body. The two of you make out lazily for a while before you untangle yourself from the tangle of limbs.

“Get comfy, I’ll be back in a while.”

He hears the tap running in the bathroom, but he’s asleep before you return.

~~~

He’s awoken by you ripping the covers off him.

“Get up,” you demand.

He’s still half asleep, “What? What’s going on?”

“You need to leave,” you insist as you throw his briefs and slacks at him, “my husband is early. He’s going to be in the lobby and then up the elevator and if you’re not gone in less than  2 minutes, it’s not going to end well.”

Nate scrambles to pull his pants over his thighs and doesn’t bother to do up his belt. He’s reaching for his shirt when you take his hand and lead him through the apartment - er, penthouse, whatever. You’re going so fast Nate nearly trips over the cat.

“Here,” she says opening a door at the end of the hall, “follow this hall and there’s a stairwell. When you go down two floors you can take the elevator down - or keep walking, I don't care.”

You throw the remaining clothes at him.

“Wait-” the door slams shut.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Could I ask for Mountain Tim with #9 (The first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body)? I love me my cowboys- would absolutely wed him on the spot if I met him irl!!

Yee to the haw! I would totally marry him too! I'm so glad you requested! Also I just managed to finish this on my lunch break.

The night watch (Yandere Mountain Tim X Female Reader)

You had been sitting in a train carriage for maybe two to three days. You couldn't help but be struck in awe, so much had changed in America since you were sent away to France nineteen years ago, slavery had been abolished and the county was slowly gaining momentum as an upper nation and another presidential campaign had began.

You couldn't read a newspaper without seeing Funny Valentine's name on almost every page and you could understand why he was a man of the nation and had the patriotism that a president needed.

As the train grinded to a halt the dust flew up in the hot summer wind. You stood up, grabbed your bags and made your exit. You walked calmly out of the train and saw only one unfamiliar male standing at the station. A blonde haired male who had the indistinguishable look of a cowboy. He tipped his hat up as he noticed your presence and you caught the gleam of his sheriff's badge as he approached you. You let out a hiss of annoyance, he was most likely sent by Mayor Harold Jones to have you locked up for the crime you never committed.

"Are you here to arrest me sheriff because if you are then please do so later, I have to visit my mother urgently" you said as you tried to walked past him but he grabbed your arm to stop you. For a split second you could see a gleam of shock in his eyes.

"No I wasn't aware of any pending arrest against you, I'm I'm hear with a heavy heart to tell you that your mother passed away yesterday morning" he responded as he gave you an empathetic expression. You looked back at him once more and let out a sigh. You knew one day this day would come. The prophecy was tattoed in your skin. To you it was a horrible foreshadowing of what the future had in store and now it had finally happened.

It was an uncanny birthmark that went from a simple blob to actual words, you never knew why or how this happened but you did know that a sign like that would never lie.

"I'm sorry for your loss ma'am" he said. You didn't respond to him, you had no words to say.

"Do you need some help with your bags?" He asked.

"No I'm perfectly fine" you said as you shook his hand away and began to walk off to the small town which you once called home.

As you walked down the long street you saw everyone watched you, their eyes all filled with hate. The town was almost dead silent until a gunshot erupted, you could feel the bullet just brush past you.

You looked to your left to see a gruff male with a rifle in hand.

"McGavin... Couldn't even fire a sling shot properly, now look at you, can't even fire a gun... If you want to blow my brains out then I'd suggest moving to the right a little" you said in a cocky tone.

"You bitch-!" He yelled before a lady exited the house. You remembered her as a skinny blondie but the years of being married had obviously gotten to her.

"Oh Mary Ann, you really let yourself go" you commented about the fuller figured woman causing her to let out a gasp.

The town was now filled with howls and hollering, all of there mean comments directed at you but you didn't care, you'd dish out a full banquet of revenge upon them all at some stage.

As you walked down the street you noticed the blonde male following you, he only spoke after you left the chaos of the main street.

"I'd suggest you not to stir the pot if this town hates you, you were nearly shot" he said, a small amount of worry coated his calm voice and you laughed in response.

"Nobody told you?" You asked.

"About what?" He replied.

"I was forced to leave this town at the age of eight after I murdered the mayor's son Jimmy Jones..." Yo said as you turn to face the sheriff.

He looked at you in shock as he  heard such a confession come from such a young and refined woman.

"You don't think I could have done such a thing do you?" You asked him.

"No ma'am, it doesn't seem like something a young girl would do" he replied.

"My point exactly, now I must head to the house, I need to start unpacking so the house is pristine when my husband comes" you said before walking to a decent brick house at the end of the street.

👗👗👗

Those bitter first words were undeniably the same as the words over his chest, right on-top of his heart. It was a sigh of fate that you two were meant to meet.

A few weeks had passed since then and no matter where he'd go he'd always find you in some way. From what he had learnt, your name was (Y/n) (L/n) and you were an opulent dress maker that lived in France with your aunt and uncle and that you had moved back to your small hometown to start up a small business.

Everyone in town would talk about you like you were a monster in human form, a creature that brought pain and misfortune, a woman with a heart of stone or ice but when he looked in your eyes he could see a poor soul who seeked a peaceful life, a poor girl wearing a mask to hide away her emotions to all those who seeked to destroy her. It's like he had known her for all his life. Like he had watched all the times you had been kicked down and thrown around as a child.

Now he stood at the front door of your home. He knocked on the door.

"(Y/n) are you home?" He asked.

"Yes come in, if your here because June told you I stole from her shop then she's lying!" You yelled.

"I know, I saw the stolen goods at the back" he said as he walked in

"My Mama would do such a thing?" He heard another female exclaim before gasping. He walked into the living room to see you sitting at the coffee table with a younger female that held your sketch book in hand.

"You want me to wear that!" She nearly yelled at shock.

"Of course, do you think I would have gone to all the effort to sketch something I'd tell you not to" you calmly replied as you took the book back before looking towards him.

"Then what brings you here?" You asked him.

"I just wanted to see you, is there anything wrong with that?" He replied.

"Well you've chosen the right time, my husband is preparing some afternoon tea as we speak. so take a seat" you said and he complied, sitting on the chair beside both you and the ginger haired female.

"Honey we have another guest so could you please grab another plate and cup" you called out.

"I'm not that hungry so there's no need to spoil me with your hospitality" he replied.

"Nonsense, it would be impolite to not let you eat" you insisted before focusing on your first customer, Betty Marshalls.

"I'm sorry, where were we?" You asked her.

"Could you maybe-" she was about to speak before you cut her off.

"Oh that's right, I haven't shown you the fabric yet" you said as you pulled out a basket with various snippets of different fabrics. You hands dove in with absolute determination to find the right one before pulling it out.

"Now this one, it screams elegance" you said as you showed her a piece of black silk with red oriental patterns.

"Um isn't this outfit getting a little risque..." She shuttered which caused you to give her a stern glare.

"You asked me for something eye catching, so that is what I'm going to give you" you growled.

"But if my mama saw-" she was going to say before you stood from your chair and leaned towards here and gave her a harsh poke on her chest.

"You are twenty years old for Christ sake, your Mama is a delusional, psychotic mess that wants you to suck on her teat for the rest of your life! I'm sure as hell that she's only keeping ya because she lost her son in the Civil war! So if you want to have at least a speck of a chance to marry Harry Conners and live your own life I suggest you let me do the designing and keep ya big mouth shut!" You yelled out in a banshee like screech, causing the poor girl on the receiving end to sink into her chair with a horrified expression on her face.

"Bit harsh don't you think?" Tim piped in. You let out a sigh as you slumped back into your chair and rubbed your face with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I just get a little too revved up sometimes" you sighed to the two.

"It's... It's alright" Betty squeaked out like a little mouse.

"I know how much you love your Mama Betty... I'm still a little emotional about my mother but what I'm saying is true, your mother is a two faced bitch... You may see a wonderful lady who wants to protect you but she's doing more harm then good... I know because I saw how she manipulated your older brother" you explained to the poor girl.

"Honestly the only good thing about her I can point out is her chilli con carne..." You continued as you remembered how good the hot pot mixture was whenever you managed to steal a little at various town gatherings.

"Actually... You could pay me by telling me her recipe... I've been trying to cook it for my husband for years but I just can't seem to make it the way she does" you said as you leaned in towards her.

"No... I can't just tell you!" she exclaimed.

"O come on... No one will know, I'm only going to make it for me and my husband" you said.

"No"

"Fine then the initial price of sixty dollars it is" you sighed as you grabbed your sketch book and began to rework the design before handing it to her again.

"I've just made it a little more subtle but I'll let you choose the fabric this time, ok?" You asked.

"Yes, but are you sure your going to make this before the fair?" She asked.

"Of course four days will be a breeze" you said before looking to the blonde male.

"Sheriff Mountain Tim, this will be a secret amongst us, I can't have anyone knowing about this... Especially June" you said as you twirled your slender finger in a circular motion before placing it over your lips.

"Of course ma'am" he replied as a smile appeared on his lips, despite your cold exterior he knew you were a compassionate woman deep down. He just couldn't help but fall hopelessly in love.

"Oh honey what took you so long?" You asked as a man approached the coffee table with a large tray of savouries and sweets. He had dark hair and eyes that were typically associated with Asian descent but his skin and the way his features were contoured were more European.

"I was just making sure that the food was suitable for our guests darling" he said as he put the tray down before kissing you. Tim couldn't help but feel the jealousy stab into him like a knife. He knew that you were the wife of another man but he couldn't help feel that I should be him.

The rest of the afternoon you all sat down and ate and drank. You talked about your years in France and how you had met you husband Han Cresswell during a family vacation to Vietnam at the age of sixteen and that you both married a eighteen. Mountain Tim couldn't help but feel jealousy stir inside of him, threatening to boil over. He just couldn't help but feel that he was more deserving of your love.

👗👗👗

"Honey I'll stay home with you if your really that ill" you said as you sat beside your husband on the bed.

"No I'll be fine, I just need to rest up... You go out and enjoy yourself at the fair" he replied before letting out a horrible cough.

"Are you sure... I'll stay if you aren't feeling well" you replied before a knock on the bedroom door alerted you to see the ginger hair girl who had appeared without much warning.

"God don't scare me like that Betty" you exclaimed in shock as you held your chest.

"Sorry..." She muttered.

"How hard was it to shake your mother off?" You asked, she only gave you a disgusted expression as she showed you a crinkled and  yellowing dress that had enough frills to suffocate anyone in a three foot radius.

"Oh god, I'm guessing that was her tacky old dress" you nearly choked out in disgust and she nodded a yes in response.

"I'm sorry honey but I need to help this poor girl out..." You said before kissing his forehead and standing up.

"No it's fine" he said as he gave you a smile before you guided her to your dressroom.

Betty's eyes were filled with wonder as she saw the mannequins and fabrics, mirrors and draws as well as everything in-between. You were like the fairy godmother that would make her a Cinderella.

You pulled out at dress for her and showed it to her. It was a stunning black of the shoulder dress with silver detailing, the bottom of the dress went down to her ankle and had a slit up one side that would allow her to move freely while keeping the slim figured design.

It took forever to get her out of the tacky dress but once she had the new dress on she couldn't help but look at herself in suprise. It's like it was the first time she had seen herself with administration of her form. You quickly grabbed a brush and undid the horrible twin braids and brushed her hair before draping her hair over her right shoulder and pinning it on the left to hold it in place. Her natural wavy hair gave it the bounce it needed.

Now she was a completely different person. She looked like a starlet.

"Such little changes can make a big difference" you sighed, you could even say she looked more beautiful then you. She opened her mouth but no words could escape, she was speechless.

"Now you wait down stairs, I'll be ready to go soon" you said as you shooed her as you grabbed one of your dresses.

👗👗👗

Throughout the afternoon you sat smugly as you watched all the ladies look at her and feel like shit comparison. Of course you had June confront you and go absolutely mad. Screaming on how you turned her daughter into a witch, which made you laugh before responding with a few simple words

"You'll see the real witch in the mirror... You daughter wants to live her own life now"

As night fell you sat and watched couples dance away and Betty was not dancing with Harry Conners but instead with dashing stranger who's charm couldn't be compared, it reminded you of when you first met Han all those years ago.

You were finally pulled out of your thoughts by a familiar voice.

"What are you doing sitting here all by yourself tonight?" The blonde asked. You looked at him, staring deep into his blue eyes.

"I just wanted to see how everyone reacted to Betty's dress, my husband would of come but he got sick" you explained.

"What about you?" You asked him.

"A sheriff's duties are never over, I've been patrolling the town all afternoon, everyone seems to be here but who knows if some thieves were to show up" he replied.

"So what brought you to this place in the first place?" You asked.

"I've been wondering through America for most of my life, one day I found this little struggling town and I decided to help out, I don't consider this place a home but I'll stay as long as the town needs me" he explained and you gave him a nod as you continued to watch everyone dance with their partners. Mountain Tim noticed this and extended his hand.

"I know it's wrong to ask a married woman this without her husband's permission but would you care to dance with me?" He asked and a smile appeared on your face as you took his hand.

"I'd be delighted, I'm sure my husband would be fine with it" you replied as you stood up.

👗👗👗

"I really appreciate your offer but I think I'll be fine walking home myself" you insisted to Mountain Tim.

"Are you sure? I couldn't bare the thought of you getting hurt" he replied.

"I'll be fine, my move isn't that far away, but thank you for the offer" you said.

"No need to thank me"

"Then can I tell you at least that I appreciated your company tonight, I'll admit it was daunting to be somewhere full of people that hate me..." You confessed.

"I'm glad I was, I don't see why the town could hate a beautiful woman such as yourself" he commented causing your face to turn a light shade of pink.

"I hope you have a safe trip home" he said.

"You too" you said as you began to walk.

Mountain Tim watched you fade into the distance and let out a sigh before lifting his shirt to reveal the bandaged wound he had, his blood slowly seeping through the layers of cotton gauze pads and bandages. He wished you had taken him up on the offer, he could of just followed you anyway but that would only draw suspension. He knew what he had done will add fuel to the town's fiery hatred towards you but after all, love makes a man a fool. Love makes a man do crazy things.

You felt sick as you felt your guys turning, something was off but you simply thought it might be your suprise to his compliment. You walked through the dark town that was only illuminated by the moon. When you got closer to your home you notice something was hanging from the large tree out the front.

With each step closer fear began to solidify until you realised what was hanging from it was a body, your husband's body. You ran quickly and screamed in horror. You tried to untie the end of the rope that suspended your husband's body but you couldn't.

You looked around for something and found his small dagger on the ground near his body. You picked it up and noticed the crimson liquid that stained the blade before you desperately sawed at the rope for what seemed like minutes. You cried out in fear and pain as you desperately hoped that you could save him. You occasionally ran the blade over your hands by accident as you tried you hardest to cut the rope.

Eventually the rope gave in and his body fell with a thud. You ran over and screamed out his name and cradled him in your arms as you prayed for him to still be alive, but it was no use... Had been dead long before you had arrived.

👗👗👗

"So... Everyone thinks I killed him" you sobbed into your hankerchief.

"I'm afraid so (Y/n)..." Mountain Tim responded.

"But... I loved him" you cried.

"I know, I don't think you did it but I'm investigating, I have to set my thoughts of you aside and look at the facts" he explained as he leaned forward and wiped the tears on your cheek with his thumb. Your attention caught was quickly caught by the blood dyed bandages you could only just see as the front of his shirt slightly draped as well as a tattoo over the left side of his chest, they seemed to form words but you couldn't make them out in that particular angle. For some reason your intuition was telling you something was up with whatever lied underneath the bandages.

"Why are you in bandages?" You asked.

"You shouldn't try to get involved with my personal matters, besides you need to tell me what you know" he replied in a stern tone.

"No, I'm not going to tell you anything until you show me what your hiding under those wraps" you responded in a peeved tone.

"You seem eager to avoid the subject" he responded.

"And so do you... You know I don't have the drive to commit murder" you replied.

"I never said I believed you did it, nor that it was a murder..." He replied.

"It was... As a matter of fact I found my husband's dagger at the crime scene with someone else's blood on it..." You explained. Then it clicked in your mind. The bloody dagger, Tim's injury and the time frame. He was the only one that hadn't been at the fair for the entire afternoon.

But rather then burst into tears or go rampant you sat quietly and looked at him straight in the eyes.

"What would bring a man such as yourself to take another's life in such a slow and painful way?" You asked him in a monotone voice. He simply slipped further into the lounge and let out a sigh as he shook his head.

"I'd be lying if I told you that I suspected you would figure it out" he sighed.

"I learnt a lot more in France then just sewing sheriff" you hissed.

"So what drove you to murder my husband?" You asked as you folded your arms.

"(Y/n), jealousy can drive a man to do crazy things" he explained as he took his hat off.

"So what did you want? Was it money?" You asked and he simply let out a chuckle in response.

"No, nothing materialistic ma'am" he said before you were pulled in towards him with a rope.

"Just a lonesome man such as myself would kill to have a passionate woman such as yourself to call their own" he cooed before planting a soft peck on your lips.

[negasonicteenagemess]

girls/girls/boys  peter parker imagine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k+ (I think it’s my longest yet)

Request: I suggested it and people said yes sooooo here it is lads. It’s 7:30am and I haven’t slept so forgive the mistakes

A couple Spider-Man ps4 references here and there

No Endgame spoilers

masterlist

New York. The best place on Earth, at least in Peter Parker’s eyes. After an alien invasion here and there, the people of this city came together in one, borderline heroic, ideology. To rebuild together. As a city united, they fixed not only the physical attributes of the city, but the hearts as well. Hope returned as people such as your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man began to step up to protect the city they loved. 

The people of this city made it so easy and great to love for Peter. Well, besides when he gets beaten to a pulp by bad guys. That isn’t fun for anyone.

As Peter walked on the cracked pavement under the setting sun in the city he loved, with the girl he loved, he couldn’t help but admire her. After nine months, to this day, of dating this girl, Peter knew he loved her.

Yes, he knew it was crazy, but if he had to hear ‘you’re in high school, you don’t know what love is’ one more time, he’d just lose it. Deep down in his heart as he saw the light breeze ruffled her hair, he knew that what he felt for her was love.

He loves her with every fiber of his being.

But those three little words were never once said due to his guilt. Peter felt that it was wrong to confess his love to her without her knowing everything about him. That hiccup just so happened to be clad in red and blue spandex.

Nine months, the time frame of a pregnancy and he still hasn’t told her the truth about why he cancels dates and misses class more often than not. He was scared in all honestly. He couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving him because of his alter ego. So, he kept it bottled inside, along with his revelation of love.

As they walked in a comfortable silence, Y/N began to lose herself in her thoughts as well. When she met Peter Parker for the first time in biology in freshmen year, she knew she was done for. As cliched as it sounds, he was different than most other guys. His heart, the care he held, made him who he was, and she loved that about him.

But, just like Peter, she was keeping a secret from him that she thought would ruin their relationship. She liked boys, obviously because she was dating one. What Peter didn’t know was that she liked boys… and girls.

The way she thought of it was stupid. The logical side of her brain knew that he would never hate her for being bi. The other side of her shivered in fear of the thought of Peter kicking her out of his life.

She didn’t want his feelings for her to change which is why she’s been silent on the topic. Tonight, that would change.

“So, what do you have in store for our epic anniversary?” The boy questioned as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Y/N smiled as she made eye contact with him.

“It’s a surprise,” the smile on her face grew as Peter shook his head and chuckled. “You and your surprises.” He leaned in to give her a short peck on the lips as they kept walking. Her cheeks turned red at the small act of affection.

After small talk, and down a few more blocks, they arrived at the restaurant with insanely bright neon lights. “Karaoke?” Peter read off the sign on the restaurant window. Y/N beamed at the confusion on Peter’s face, “yeah! I thought it would be fun to give it a try. But if you don’t want to then we-“

He cut her off, squeezing her hand, “No this is great. Just keep in mind, singing is not my strong suit.” He opened the door for her as she giggled at the comment.

The couple was soon seated at a booth while a very drunk man sang ‘Eye of the Tiger.’ Peter and Y/N went over the memories they made together over the past few months. One of the employees took the mic, and with a voice laced with boredom, called the next person up. “Y/N L/N, you’re up next.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he looked at his girlfriend questionably with a French fry between his fingers. Y/N nervously chuckled, “I immediately regret this.”

Stunned, Peter stumbled through his words, “I um.” He cleared his throat before continuing, “I think you’ll do great.” The initial shock washed away, as he offered her a comforting smile. She nodded her head trying to convince herself more than anything as she stood up and walked to the stage.

“You got this Y/N,” Peter encouraged, tossing her a thumbs up when the mic was placed in her hand. An anxious smile graced her lips as she gave a small wave to the people watching her intently.

‘This was such a bad idea,’ she kept thinking over and over again just as the music began.

“Oh god,” she whispered before the words made their way on the screen towards the far left of the stage, in the direction that Peter was.

“I don’t wanna hear you’ve got a boyfriend Sometimes you’re better off alone”

The beat was familiar for Peter, but he didn’t quite know the song. He felt down because of how tense Y/N was, but the proud smile never left his lips as he cheered for her from halfway across the restaurant.

“But if you change your mind, you know where I am Yeah if you change your mind, you know here to find me ‘Cause I don’t ever wanna be your boyfriend”

Y/N’s voice gradually grew slightly more confident as the song went on, and every now and then she’d look at the screen for the words. With this newfound confidence, which wasn’t much, she began to look at the other people in the ‘crowd.’

Peter’s eyes eventually trailed to one of the T.V.’s behind the bar. There was a hostage situation at Grand Central. Again. He bit his lip and looked back at his girlfriend. ‘Why the heck would someone hold other people hostage at GC?’

“I am just a villain vying for attention From a girl A girl who can’t decide and here’s the reason why”

She found her eyes searching for Peter’s, and as they locked, words spewed out of her mouth.

“Girls love girls and boys”

The song soon ended and she stood there awkwardly yet again. She walked off the stage and back to the booth where her boyfriend was waiting. When she approached the table, Peter quickly stood up as his eyes kept flicking from Y/N’s to the T.V. behind her.

The uneasy smile returned when she approached him. “So… what did you think Pete?” She bit her lip, anticipating his response.

“Uh, it was great babe, but I gotta go. May needs something.” Peter grabbed his jacket from the booth about to step away without acknowledging the look on Y/N’s face.

“Something more important than our anniversary?” Her voice was shaky, from anger and sadness simultaneously. He stopped his steps and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” before Y/N could respond, he bolted out the door of the restaurant.

She let out a light scoff as she plopped herself into the booth. Pushing the plate to the side, she leaned her head on her hands while tears pooled in her eyes.

Somehow, she knew this would happen. She knew that Peter wouldn’t like her because of this. Their waitress walked by, noticing her distress. “Hey, you alright?” The kind woman questioned with concern. Y/N sat up, redness around her eyes, “my boyfriend ditched me after I basically told him a really big secret.”

The waitress felt bad for the poor girl and saw that there was obviously a person who previously occupied the seat across from Y/N. “I saw your little performance and it was great. I’ll make sure everything’s on the house.”

Y/N’s eyes widen at the woman’s statement. “Y-You don’t have to do that.” She wiped the tears off her cheeks as the waitress waved her off, “Nonsense. It’s the least I can do.” She smiled down at the poor girl. “Thank you,” Y/N sniffed. The woman nodded her head and walked off to assist another customer.

Y/N huffed, pulling out her phone and going straight to the contacts with the only person she could think to call. Pressing the device against her ear, she waiting as she heard it ring.

“Hey Y/N what’s up?” MJ’s iconic gloomy while simultaneously cheery voice greeted. “MJ, I-I don’t know what to do.” Her voice stuttered as she fiddled with the napkin on the table.

“Woah what happened? Where’s Peter?” MJ’s voice grew with concern as question rattled her brain. Y/N sobbed, “He left. He fucking left me here after I basically told him that I’m bi. And-And it sucks because I did the plan, with the karaoke to, you know, break the ice. But it didn’t work. He ran out of here MJ.” Her breathing was uneven as she recounted the story from just a few moments ago.

“Oh god,” MJ whispered into the phone as she got up from her bed to grab her coat and jacket. “Y/N, send me the address to that place. I’ll try to be there soon.”

Sighing, Y/N tried to deflect. “No, you don’t have to-“before she could finish, MJ interrupted. “Yes, I do. You’re always there for me Y/N, so now it’s my turn,” MJ boldly stated as she shut the front door. Y/N closed her eyes, as a few more tears escaped, “thank you.” They bid their farewells and MJ was already on the way.

Across Midtown, Peter was graciously learned that he was taking out ‘terrorists’ that were holding hostages in Grand Central. Slowly, one by one he stealthily took them out. But he made a terrible mistake. His phone. The small device was tucked into the waistband of his boxers so there wasn’t much he could do at this point.

The ringtone blared and all eyes were on him. “Oh no,” he whispered as the gunmen started firing rounds at him as he stuck to the ceiling. He ran on the ceiling yelling, “Hey Karen.”

The automated voice responded, “Yes, Peter?”

The boy dodged bullets left and right before he zipped down onto the ground. “Can you connect to my phone?” He blurted, now throwing punches at the man in front of him. Peter webbed one of the men to the floor before he was bombarded by more of those men. “Hey guys, sorry about crashing the party,” Peter exclaimed mockingly, shooting a web at the ceiling, swinging and kicking on of the men in the face.

“Actually, I’m not that sorry,” he joked. His phone rang again, but this time he was able to see who it was on the interior of his mask. “MJ?” He whispered. His distraction allowed the men to get a few hits in. Before he could get shot at again, he used his webs to pull the guns away from them, throwing them far behind him.

The ringing didn’t stop, and Peter groaned, “answer it, please Karen.” Silently, the A.I. did what it was told.

“MJ, can I call you back, I’m a little busy,” he shouted, tripping one of the terrorists. MJ scoffed on the other end of the line, “really Peter? It’s your anniversary and you ditched Y/N at a restaurant.” MJ was fuming and the taxi driver gave her strange looks.

“Look, I know it was bad, but believe me,” he paused, kicking someone in the face, knocking them out, “I really wanted to stay. Because I- “He cut himself off. He didn’t know what to say, his mind went blank until he felt a sharp pain in his gut from the terrorist. “You what, Peter?” MJ angrily said, paying the driver and getting out of the car. “I love her, okay?” He shouted. He froze and so did the men before him. They all kind of exchanged ‘what the fuck’ looks before one of the men lunged at Peter.

“I gotta go,” he hung up before she could protest, knocking out the last few guys then calling the police.

MJ went into the restaurant going straight to her best friend. When they saw each other, Y/N stood up next to the booth to hug her friend. MJ let her friend vent, knowing that just being there and listening to her meant a lot.

The night went on, and the pair grew tired. MJ took her friend home, paying the taxi fair for her. “You sure you don’t want me to stay the night?” MJ offered as the approached Y/N’s apartment door. She nodded her head, “I think I’ll be okay.”

MJ let out a short breath, “call me if you need anything, alright?” Y/N softly smiled nodding her head. She went in for a hung, again, needing any form of contact at the moment.

“See ya,” MJ stated, walking back towards the exit of the building. “Bye,” Y/N mumbled loud enough to be heard. She went inside her apartment, going straight to her room. The second she shut her door; the tears began to flow as she covered her face with her hands.

She tried to stabilize her breath, but it was getting too hard. She sat on her bed, not feeling motivated to even change her clothes. Y/N looked at her clock and saw that it was only a little after eight. She sighed as her tears slowed down. Her eyes began to get heavy and she decided to just lay down, trying her best to ignore the deep feeling in her heart.

Soon after the police arrived, Peter learned that those men had plans to plant bombs in the terminal. He was relieved to know that he got there fast enough to prevent the bombs. Peter then leap in the air to swing on his webs to the girl he loves.  

Running, swinging, and jumping through the city was usually such a rush for Peter. The city he loved looked a lot smaller from where he was at, but the rush was non-existent that night as his one goal was to get to Y/N.

As he landed on the fire escape quietly, he looked through the window to see his girl asleep on her bed. He pulled the mask off his face, his brown locks flopping as he did so. He examined the red material in his hands mulling over his thoughts. Is it really worth it, keeping this secret from her which ultimately makes her feel like shit in the end? Peter sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair as he bit his lip in thought.

After a while of thinking, he pulled the mask back on, “hey Karen?” The automated voice replies, “yes Peter?”

“C-Call Y/N,” he stuttered, nervous about the next interaction. He kept cracking his knuckles, as he heard the phone ring. He looked through the windowpane and saw her slowly wake up to the ring of her phone. She groggily sat up, rubbing her eyes, most likely from leftover tears as Peter thought.

He watched her pick up the small device, her eyebrows raised as she just stared at it and watch it ring. He watched hopefully as she pressed the screen, only to hear her voicemail message start. She threw her phone onto her bed, holding her head in her hands. “H-Hang up and call again Karen.” His voice was rough as he saw Y/N’s distressed state.

“Peter, that isn’t such a good idea,” the automated voice suggested, but Peter blew it off. “Just do it, Karen,” his frustrated voice pleaded even though he knew the A.I. would obey.

The ringing began, again, and he watched as Y/N groaned, grabbing the device yet again. Under the mask, Peter bit his lip, whispering to himself “please pick up. Come on, come on.”

He saw her roll her eyes and answer the phone. “Peter, stop calling me. It’s late. I’m tired and I just need time to think.” He watched as she lowered her phone about to hang up.

His eyes went wide as he begged, “wait, wait, wait!” He said this far too quickly and rushed which got Y/N curious. She sighed exasperatedly. “What do you want, Peter? You wanna leave me hanging again or- “she scoffed.

He could hear how hurt she was from what her did and her felt awful about it. He rubbed the back of his neck, doing the only thing he thought could solve this. “L-Look out the window,” he implored.

Y/N slowly averted her eyes towards the glass, only to quickly stand up and drop her phone. After Spider-Man, or Peter, pointed towards the lock, Y/N with furrowed eyebrows, rushed to open the window.

They both stood there, looking at each other. “Hey,” Peter awkwardly greeted with a small chuckle. “Spider-Man…. You’re Spider-Man.” She stated, trying to get herself to understand the situation.

She moved to allow Peter into her room. As he crawled through the window, he pulled his mask off. Y/N was able to see cuts and bruises littering her boyfriend’s face. “Oh my god,” she worriedly stated, walking close to him and enclosing his face in her hands to examine the damage. “It’ll heal in a few hours,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he leaned into her warmth.

“When, why did this happen?” Y/N questioned, softly running her fingers over his bruises. Peter sighed, recounting the memory, “you remember that one field trip in freshman year at the science exhibit?”

She made eye contact nodding her head as she continued to examine his injuries. “There was a radioactive spider they were testing and surprise surprise, it bit me. I gave me powers.”

Y/N froze, “so when you told everyone you got contacts, was it just your…abilities?” Peter nodded his head, placing his hands over hers. “I-I felt like you needed to know before I told you.” He considered the option about whether or not to tell her, but what the hell did he have to lose?

“I’m sorry I left. There was a hostage thing at GC and- and I know you were super scared on that stage, but those people were gonna die and,” he rambled, but Y/N cut him off.

“Peter, it’s okay, you did what you had to do,” she moved her arms around the back of his neck and looked lovingly into his eyes, “I thought you left because you realized you didn’t like me-“ this time, it was Peter’s turn to cut her off.

“I love you,” he boldly confessed, placing his hands on her hips gently, “and I didn’t want to tell you until you knew about, this.” He said referring to the suit and his identity.

Y/N had no words, nodding her head to what he said. She gathered her thoughts quickly, “did you happen to pick up the… the stupid song I sang?” She bit her lip, now she was the one who was nervous.

Peter’s cheeks flushed red as he looked down his shoes, “I’m sorry, I was distracted because of the news.” Y/N chuckled breathlessly because of her nerves.

“Well, umm” she stumbled through her words, “I don’t know how to put this.”

Peter smiled encouragingly, “whatever it is, I will still love you. Unless you told me that you killed someone or something.” Y/N shook her head, mirroring his soft smile.

“I’m just gonna say it,” she practically dared herself, “I’m bi. And the song was about girls liking boys and girls. And since I like boys and girls, I thought it was fitting to do that for our anniversary.” She spoke very fast, but Peter was able to understand it all.

“Wait, really?!” He excitedly asked, pulling a way to get a better look at her face. Y/N did not expect that reaction at all. “Yes?” She answered questionably as she gripped Peter’s shoulders. He smiled, “I’m glad you told me, Y/N. After a year with you, I’m just glad you got the courage to tell me.”

Her heart melted as she didn’t expect such a sappy answer. “I wish I told you sooner, I just didn’t really know how to do it. So, MJ helped me plan the whole thing at the restaurant. Even though that completely backfired.”

“Yeah she called me basically telling me I’m a shitty person,” he laughed due to the classic Michelle Jones behavior. Y/N’s heart filled with joy at the thought of her best friend defending her. “God I love MJ,” Y/N said as she laughed with Peter.

Their laughter died down as they just admired each other. “And I love you,” Y/N expressed as Peter softly raised his eyebrows. “You mean it?” He asked as if it wasn’t real.

“More than you’ll ever know,” she whispered leaning in to finally kiss the guy she loved with all of her heart.

AN: I’ve lived in Florida for most of my life, and recently Pride month has meant a lot more to me due to the Pulse shooting in 2016. Under one common ideology people from Olrando, all over the state then soon all over the country showed their support. The LGBTQ+ community grew stronger as everyone united under the idea that love wins.

Which is kind of the reason I really wanted to write something like this.

So I hoped you liked it!

[noona-clock]

See You Next Time

this is a you centered request: write about something that makes you feel happy or you can imagine yourself doing with Park Seo Joon

Well, @bangyongguktigger​, if this isn’t one of the sweetest requests I’ve ever gotten! Thank you so much, and you KNOW I had fun writing this!!!!

Genre: Restaurant!AU/Fluff

Pairing: Park Seo Joon x You

Warnings: None

Words: 2,942

“Oh, look,” your friend, Adrianne, chirped just after the two of you left the boutique. Your gaze shifted from the contents of your shopping bag to the finger she was pointing, and you saw she was gesturing a few stores up.

“What?” you murmured, squinting against the almost-setting sun.

“It looks like a new restaurant,” Adrianne told you as she craned her neck to get a better look. And then she quickly turned her head to look at you, the end of her ponytail nearly whipping her eyes. “Should we try it out?”

The two of you had just been talking about getting some dinner before leaving the boutique, and you were always more than willing to try something new.

“Sure,” you replied with a casual shrug before following Adrianne down the sidewalk and into the restaurant.

As soon as the two of you walked in the door, the hostess standing in the entryway grabbed two menus and led you to a booth in the middle of the restaurant.

“Here you go,” she murmured as she handed you both a menu. “Seo Joon will be your server today, he should be right over for your drink orders.”

“Sure, thanks,” you replied, shooting her a quick smile before she turned and headed back to the front.

“All right, let’s see what we got here,” Adrianne muttered almost under her breath as she opened the menu.

You let out a soft sigh as you scanned over the appetizers, feeling the emptiness in your stomach start to turn over and rumble softly.

“Ooh, they have --” Adrianne began, but she was interrupted by someone approaching your table.

“Afternoon,” a somewhat deep, friendly voice greeted. “My name is Seo Joon, I’ll be taking care of you today.”

As any restaurant patron would, you looked up from your menu so you could smile and listen attentively to your server. So you could be polite.

But the second -- no, even less than a second -- you laid your eyes on Seo Joon...

Oh-- oh my -- 

There... there were just...

No words.

Well, okay, that’s a lie. Because the words ‘Most Handsome Man You’d Ever Seen’ popped into your head.

And, without a doubt, they were the absolute truest words you’d thought in the entirety of your existence.

Suddenly, you felt Adrianne kick your leg under the table. And it was then you noticed Seo Joon was staring right back at you.

But... not because he found you attractive.

Because he had asked for your drink order twice now, and you had yet to answer him.

“Sorry,” you blurted out awkwardly as a pretty massive flush overtook your cheeks. “Sorry -- I -- Diet Coke, please.”

“Got it,” he nodded. One corner of his lips was pulled into a very tiny smirk, and you were at least glad to have provided him with some amusement.

Totally and completely embarrassed, but glad.

“Wow,” Adrianne chuckled once Seo Joon had left to get your drinks.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, letting your head fall to the table with a soft thunk. But you quickly lifted it back up to look at your friend with raised eyebrows. “But you saw him, right?”

“Yes, I saw him,” Adrianne agreed with a laugh. “He’s pretty hot.”

Your eyebrows raised even farther up your forehead, and you said, “Um, no. ‘Pretty hot’ does not even begin to cover how good-looking that guy was.”

Adrianne opened her mouth to reply, but apparently, she thought better of it because she simply closed it before she said anything.

“What?” you prodded, pursing your lips slightly.

“Nothing,” she answered with a shake of her head.

Except she said it in a tone which very clearly meant it was not nothing.

“What?” you repeated with a sigh of defeat.

“Nothing!”

“Adri, what? Just say it!”

Adrianne put her menu down, folding her hands on top of it and looking at you expectantly. “Are you even going to do anything about it?”

“...About what?”

“About the fact you think this guy is hotter than hot,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper.

You paused, shifting your gaze to the side and up to the ceiling and down to your menu and... honestly, anywhere other than your friend sitting across the table.

“I knew it,” she stated. “If you think he’s so hot, just ask for his number!”

“I -- “

But you saw Seo Joon coming back with your drinks, so you quickly clamped your mouth shut and avoided his gaze like your life depended on it.

“Cherry Coke,” he said softly as he set down a glass in front of Adrianne. “And a Diet Coke.”

You flashed your eyes up, making the briefest of eye contact with him.

How had you already forgotten just how good-looking he was?

“Are we ready to order?” he asked, reaching into his back pocket and sliding out a notepad and pencil.

You were about to reply with an awkward chuckle and a ‘Not quite yet,’ but you heard Adrianne take a breath before you could get a word out.

“Are you ready, Y/N?” she asked you in the most innocent of tones.

...?

You quirked your brow slightly at her before answering. “...Not yet.”

“No, me neither,” she shook her head and then grinned up at Seo Joon. “Can we have a few more minutes, please?”

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, sticking his notepad back into his pocket. “Take your time.”

Your eyes followed him as he turned and headed to another table, and as soon as he was out of sight, your gaze darted back to your friend.

“What was that?” you quizzed.

Adrianne pursed her lips in the smuggest way possible before announcing, “Now he knows your name.”

Of course, you immediately rolled your eyes... but you also admitted to yourself that it was pretty clever of her. And you internally freaked out because he knew your name.

He knew your name.

Rather than let on you were internally freaking out, you honed your focus on the menu, keeping your head low so Adrianne wouldn’t be able to see your facial expression.

The next few minutes were fairly silent as you and Adrianne studied the menu, deciding on your meals (and glancing up to see where Seo Joon was - but that was only on your part).

When Seo Joon came back, notepad and pen in hand, you somewhat shyly told him your order and smiled when you handed him your menu. You tried to watch him as he jotted down Adrianne’s order, observing if he was paying attention to her the same way he had to you...

Of course, you were being crazy.

He was a server, and it was his job to pay attention to his customers. You were just that - a customer. You were no more special than any other person he had served today or would serve for the rest of the time he worked here!

...But that didn’t stop you from coming back a few days later with your dad.

And a few days after that with your brother.

And a few days after that with your dad and your brother.

Eventually, you just started coming alone. Seo Joon wasn’t always there, and even when he was, he wasn’t always your server. Whenever you came in, it was a gamble that he would actually be the one taking your order, and you began to visit the restaurant too many times to ask other people to go with you.

Besides. It was easier to drool over him if you were by yourself.

After about the third or fourth time being your server, Seo Joon began to act even more friendly. Not friendly in a flirty way, just in a way where it was obvious he recognized you.

“Hey, welcome back,” he had said as he’d approached your table.

And the smile on his lips.

Oh my god.

Obviously, you left him a very generous tip every time, and... after about two months or so... you realized Seo Joon had been your server the past five times you’d come in.

This was most likely because you left him a very generous tip every time, but that didn’t stop you from continuing to do so.

Eventually, it got to a point where Seo Joon called you by your name, had your Diet Coke ready just after you sat down, could guess what you were going to order, and would say ‘see you next time’ when he dropped off your check.

You were pretty sure you’d never spent so much money on food in your life, but... getting to see Seo Joon was definitely worth it.

When you came in today, your heart leaped when you saw him - just as it always did. And, just as he always did, he nodded in your direction and headed over to the drink station to retrieve your Diet Coke.

You slid into a booth, smiling when he arrived just a few seconds later with your beverage.

And, for some reason, you felt like today was different.

You had no idea what prompted you to say this, but as Seo Joon was taking out his notepad, you found yourself asking in a somewhat playful tone, “Are you the only one who ever works?”

“Hmm?” Seo Joon hummed, lifting his head to lock eyes with you. And then he chuckled, his smile bright and beaming. “Oh, no! We just hired a few new people, actually. Why?”

“I was just wondering since I only ever have you,” you replied with a soft, awkward laugh.

Not that you minded.

“Ah,” Seo Joon nodded. “Well. You’re special.”

It took you a few seconds to realize what he said, but by the time you did, he was already asking if you wanted your usual dish.

So you nodded.

You watched as he walked away.

And then you dug your phone out of your purse and called Adrianne.

“Hey, what’s up?” she answered after two rings.

“Seo Joon just said I’m special.”

“Hmm?”

“Seo Joon the server. I’m here now, and I asked him why he’s the only one who ever waits on me, and he said it’s because I’m special,” you hissed, your forehead deeply wrinkled.

“Y/N, I swear, if you don’t give him your number today, I will go to that restaurant myself and give it to him.”

Your heart began to race with anxiety, and you scanned the restaurant to make sure he wasn’t coming your way. “But what if he just meant I’m a special customer since I come here so much? And I’ve made it super obvious that I like him, so his boss told him to just be my server every time to keep me happy and keep me coming back?”

You heard Adrianne let out an annoyed sigh, and your brow furrowed even deeper.

“Just give him your number. If he doesn’t call you, then you don’t ever have to go back there again. It’s that simple.”

“It is not that simple,” you whispered. Even though it kind of was.

“Yes, it is. I will text you in one hour, and you’d better not lie to me.”

You bit the inside of your lip for a few moments before rolling your eyes and letting your shoulders slump. “Okay, fine.” And you hung up before Adrianne could squeal or reiterate that you needed to do this.

For the next ten minutes or so, you drummed your fingers on your table. You checked your phone every few seconds. You let out anxious sighs. You fidgeted and squirmed and did whatever you could to calm your nerves.

But none of it worked.

When Seo Joon arrived with your food, you somewhat avoided his gaze and thanked him in a soft voice.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” he asked. You weren’t looking at him, but you could imagine the look on his beautiful face. His eyebrows were raised adorably. His lips were just slightly pursed.

“No, I’m good,” you answered a bit breathlessly.

“All right,” he chuckled. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

You tipped your head in a nod just before you heard him shuffling away.

And you let out the deepest exhale.

Oh, god. Could you really do this?

If Adrianne were here, she would tell you that ‘yes, you can do this’ and ‘you can’t win if you don’t play’ or something like that. Because, apparently, Seo Joon calling you would be classified as a win, and you couldn’t get him to call you if he didn’t have your number.

I mean, really. What was the big deal? Why were you so nervous?

It was just a phone number! If he called you, great. If he didn’t, oh well. At least you tried!

...Except it wasn’t really ‘oh well,’ was it? If he didn’t call you, let’s face it: you would be sorely disappointed.

Because not only was Seo Joon the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on, he was also really nice and a hard worker and had a really good memory and, yeah, you only knew his personality as an employee, but you really, really, really, really wanted to learn about his personality as a person.

And if he didn’t call you, you would never get the chance.

So, yeah. The risk was there, and it was pretty big.

But... if he did call you... then the reward would be even bigger.

You picked at your food, trying to eat as much as you could despite your pounding heart and the massive butterflies in your stomach. Apparently, you didn’t try hard enough because Seo Joon came with your check and asked with some concern, “Was there something wrong with your food?”

You sat up straight, raising your eyebrows as you looked up at him. “Oh! No, nothing wrong. It was delicious, as always. I guess -- I just wasn’t as hungry as I thought.”

“I’ll get a box for you,” he nodded, taking your not even half-empty plate and heading back to the kitchen.

As soon as he left, you reached into your wallet and slid out your card, setting it next to the check. Your hands were shaking, and you wished he would come back already so you could just get it over with.

You wanted to jot down your number and leave.

Seo Joon returned with your leftovers just a minute later, setting the box down and sliding the check and your card off the table. 

“I’ll be right back,” he grinned, obviously unaware that you were an anxious, overthinking, hot mess right now.

As you waited, you got out your phone and sent Adrianne a quick text.

Okay. He just took my card. When he brings it back, I’m gonna do it.

It didn’t even take thirty seconds for her to reply: YES!!! Do it do it do it dooooo it!!!!!!

This, at least, made you smile, a breath of a laugh escaping through your nose.

...And then.

Seo Joon came back.

He set the check back on your table.

He smiled at you.

And he said, “Thanks for coming in. See you next time.”

You nodded, your eyes following him as he headed over to another table. And once he was definitively far enough away, you filled out the receipt with your very generous tip, you scribbled your signature, you slid your card back into your wallet, you grabbed a napkin, you wrote your phone number on the napkin, you set the napkin on top of the receipt so there was no way he couldn’t see it, you snatched your phone, you slid out of your chair, and you bolted.

Once the sunlight hit your face, you let out the longest, deepest, most relieved sigh in the universe.

You’d done it.

You’d left your phone number.

And now... all you had to do was wait. Which was probably the worst part.

After you got into your car but before you turned it on, you sent Adrianne another text - this one confirming that you’d actually accomplished your mission.

Before she could send one back (probably one with a lot of capital letters and exclamation marks), you put your phone away and stuck your keys into the ignition. It was only a ten-minute drive back to your place; any message could wait that long.

But when you actually arrived back at your place and picked your phone up...

Not only did you have three messages from Adrianne, but you had a missed call.

And a voicemail.

From a number you didn’t have saved.

...Your heart stopped.

But it started back up again when you clicked on the notification, beating double time as you brought your phone up to your ear.

The message was silent for a couple of seconds before you heard the person on the other line take a breath.

“Hey, Y/N --”

Right away you recognized his voice.

“It’s Seo Joon. I was wondering if you would ever leave your number... I’d kind of given up hope for a little bit. To be honest, I was thinking about giving you mine even though that’s definitely not professional, but... So, um, call me back. When you can. If you want to. I mean, I hope you want to because you left your number for me to call you, so I assume that means you would --”

You chuckled to yourself as he rambled on, and you knew immediately you would never delete that message.

And you knew immediately you would be calling him back.

Immediately.

[statementends]

Okay that cousins au thing was The Cutest Shit and if you’re still taking prompts... more of that? In whatever way you wana interpret that

So this story happens in a universe that is sort of a blend of By the Seashore and Broken Web.

By the Seashore involves Gerard on vacation with his little cousin Martin who he takes to the beach and helps him win the attentions of his crush, Jon. 

Broken Web takes place a few years later. Gerard saves Jon from A Guest for Mr. Spider and comforts him. He promises to remain Jon’s pen pal and tell him more about the supernatural. Jon and Gerry do not recognize each other from the events of By the Seashore

This story takes place when Jon and Martin are thirteen and Gerard is about twenty. The timeline is a bit shaken up since Mary doesn’t bind herself to the book until 2008 when Jon and Martin would be twenty-one. In this universe it happens earlier. 

Characters: Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims

Pairings: Minor Jon/Martin background in this chapter

Rating: T

Warnings: Parental neglect, homophobia. The story starts out sad, but I do plan for warmer feelings in the later chapters. 

Summary: Gerard opens the door of Pinhole Books the summer after his acquittal. Standing in front of him is his younger cousin asking if he can stay with him. 

AO3: Link

-

Gerard almost didn’t get the door.

It wasn’t like he got any customers for the dingy old bookstore by appointment or otherwise. When there was a ring it meant the paparazzi or some busy body wanting to see ‘where it happened.’ He wanted to sell it, but his mother wouldn’t let him. It was tempting to burn the place down when she was weakened.

After the mistrial he had tried for normal as he had done in the past. It hadn’t lasted long. Didn’t help that people recognised him. He considered cutting his hair short and bleaching it, but the thought of it made him wince. He’d rather be miserable as himself rather than miserable as someone else.

The buzzer rung again. He sighed, but decided to shoo off whoever it was bothering him. Last time he had left it someone had tried climbing through the window not knowing they were already nailed shut.

He opened the door. His scowl switched to confusion.

He had grown a lot. He would still be one of the tallest boys in his class, he already overtook Gerry. The chubbiness hadn’t faded any and the freckles had multiplied. He was big, and if it wasn’t for his babyface he might be mistake for a full grown man, as it was Gerard recognised him as his thirteen year old cousin, Martin Blackwood.

“Why…” The answer was probably Gerard’s luck honesty. It had been… a very bad year. Not that he disliked Martin, but…

Well, whatever this was it was going to complicate his already complicated life, he could feel it.

Martin was trying very hard to smile, but there was a watery look to him. Brittle. He opened his mouth to speak, but inhaled suddenly, as if realizing he couldn’t bring himself to start the sentence.

Gerard frowned. “Martin?”

“I–” Martin’s voice cracked. “Could I maybe stay with you for a little while? I… I don’t have anywhere to…” He crumpled and quickly wiped tears from his eyes.

Oh shit.

Gerard looked wildly around. He couldn’t bring him upstairs. He couldn’t slam the door and say no, which was tempting only because if Martin thought he would find safe shelter here, he was very much mistaken.

“I…” Gerard said slowly. “You… you know about the…” He gestured. Surely his Aunt had told him. Not that she had kept in touch for more than the occasional Christmas card, especially in the last few years, but she had been pretty clear about him staying the fuck away from her. She rung him up the night he got out of prison.

Martin nodded miserable and hesitant. “I don’t–they wouldn’t have let you go if you had done it.” He offered weakly.

Gerard shrugged. Honestly they would have jailed him. He knew he didn’t do it and knew there wasn’t much of a chance of convincing anyone otherwise unless he wanted to show them his mother’s ghost. Martin’s uncertainty did hurt a little though.

“You must be desperate then…” Gerard sighed. He still had Martin on the doorway. He quickly glanced around. No one seemed to be watching, but that didn’t mean someone with a camera wasn’t around the corner. He relented and pulled back.

“Close the door behind you and lock it,” He told Martin.

“Y-Yes of course, thank you Gerard.”

“Don’t thank me yet, we need to talk about this.” Gerard led him up the stairs. He felt the usual claustrophobia of all the books stacked around him. He lead Martin to his room. It was the only place free of clutter and the stench of paper and the crawl of silverfish. He sat on his chair at his desk and Martin sat on his bed. Martin looked amazed in the way someone is amazed by a house fire. There was no way he could let him live here even if his mother wasn’t literally haunting him.

“So.” Gerard said. No use beating around the bush. “What happened? Why are you here?”

Martin bowed his head. He played with the hem of his shirt. “Do I… do I have to say, Gerard? I… Mum kicked me out and I … there’s no one else…”

“She kicked you out?” Gerard asked. His Aunt had never struck him as a warm woman. He had only spent a long length of time with her once, a summer vacation in Bournesmouth. She didn’t seem to be a particularly tolerant woman, but Martin did his best to be obedient. Only a kid but he was well behaved… maybe… maybe too well behaved…

Martin was nodding still playing with his hem, not meeting Gerard’s eyes.

Gerard almost asked what he did, but caught himself. He doubted it had anything to do with what Martin had done and more to do with the fact that she was a terrible woman.

Must run in the esteemed Von Closen line.

“What happened,” he asked instead. “I won’t hold any of it against you.”

“I… you can’t know that you won’t.”

“Martin I was suspected of murdering my own mother,” Gerard said bluntly. Maybe to shock Martin out of it. “There’s not a whole lot worse than that.”

“You didn’t do it though.” Martin said, more certain this time.

Gerard sighed. “Right, but I’ve had a lot of people hold things against me, so I’m not inclined to do that… especially not to family.” Not that family inspired anything in him really, Martin was probably the only exception.

“I’m … I…” Martin took a deep breath. “I’m gay.”

“Right.” Gerard couldn’t be less surprised by the revelation considering he facilitated Martin getting to spend time with his first summer crush. He felt a weird sort of emptiness though. Mary Keay wasn’t a good mother, but he had a cold comfort certainty she would never abandon him.

There was a long pause. Gerard shrugged.

“I… already knew,” He said thinking it might put Martin more at ease. Martin looked terrified.

“You can tell?” He squeaked.

“Oh–no. I mean… you and your friend that you played with that summer. Jack? Josh? You were obviously smitten.”

Martin’s cheeks heated. “Oh…” He said softly. “I… I never thought of it like that… but… yeah…” He looked down. “I guess it’s weird to want to marry a boy you just met.”

“It’s not weird,” Gerard said. He felt tired all of the sudden. He can only imagine what Martin’s Mother said to him before throwing him out of the house. “It’s just… love.” he shrugged. He didn’t really have any sort of experience with that sort of thing, but he knew it was stupid for people to get offended over it.

Martin still had an ashamed look on his face.

Gerard wasn’t sure how to comfort him. He had embraced a very alternative lifestyle at the age of eleven. Was used to sneers and jeers and assumptions about his personal life. Had the shit kicked out of him a few times for it. He had never slept with anyone to make either side of the argument true, but he considered beautiful people beautiful, and the idea of masculinity incomplete and shortsighted. Gay probably wasn’t quite what he was, but he was certainly queer. It had just… it hadn’t mattered. It wasn’t a worry, it was just… part of him. Like liking oranges and getting sunburned easily.

But for Martin this was probably the most afraid he had been in his life.

“You’re fine,” Gerard said. “Hey.”

Martin looked up.

“You’re fine,” He repeated.

Tears spilled down Martin’s face.

“Th–Thank you. Gerard.”

Gerard got up and sat beside him on the bed. He squeezed his shoulder awkwardly. Martin instantly pressed in quietly shaking on his shoulder. He gave his back a few pats, but let him cry it out. It was uncomfortable. So uncomfortable, but the kid needed it, and Gerard was emotionally distant for his own sake, but he wasn’t emotionally dead.

His crying subsided eventually.

“Why don’t you rest in here for a bit, I’ll get us some food. That alright?”

Martin nodded. “Y-yes. You really don’t mind me staying?”

Gerard knew he should kick him out. Give him to child services and let the government sort him out because keeping him here was a bad idea.

Maybe he was lonely… or maybe it was because he wanted to believe family did matter in the good ways. Maybe it was just Martin’s lost look. Whatever it was he nodded.

“Long as you like,” He told him.

Gerard left the room and headed upstairs to his mother’s old office. He dug around and found a plain brown box, packing tape, and a sharpy, as well as enough stampage. He stared at the book he had avoided touching knowing she might pop out at any moment.

“Right.” He inhaled slowly. Slipped the book into the box and wrapped it. Carefully wrote out the address of the Magnus Institute.

If anyone could hold her it was them.

He went out and threw the book in the post, then grabbed some curry and headed back. He opened the door and stepped on the junkmail. There was a letter among it all in familiar and precise handwriting. He dipped and picked it up, slipping it in his pocket. He knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Martin said. His voice sounded a lot stronger.

“So, it’s actually good timing if you don’t mind the work,” Gerard said as if Martin was just here to visit him. “I need to pack up and sell this place.”

“You’re moving?”

“Yeah,” Gerard nodded. There was a strange lift inside him saying it out loud. “I mean… we are…”

Martin nodded eagerly. “Right. I can help!”

“We don’t have to start right now, eat your curry.”

“In here?”

“The place is a disaster,” Gerard said. “I’m almost tempted to burn it all and save some time.”

Martin laughed. The first time he heard since he got here. Small and a bit timid, but there all the same.

-

He gave Martin his bedroom and made do on an old couch in a room Gerard couldn’t have put a name to. It was full of books like the rest. So more of the store. He remembered the letter and pulled it out. Neatly written in Jon’s handwriting:

Dear Gerry,

You haven’t written back since my last letter and I’ve lost patience with you which is why I’m writing now. If you’re trying to protect me, or think that I might think the worst of you for what I’ve read in the papers you’ll find yourself very much mistaken. All you’re doing is being stubborn and thickheaded.

I know that you didn’t kill your mother, and if you did, you probably had a good reason for it and she probably wouldn’t have been considered anyone’s mother anymore, so you need to write me back, or I’ll break the promise we made and come straight to this address and make you talk to me.

Gerry snorted at that. He’d like to see Jon try. He hadn’t seen the weedy boy in years, but he had the feeling he hadn’t grown all that much.

So. Write back to me. You said you would. I know whatever happened you did what you had to. And I’m sorry for your loss. I hope you’re okay.

Sincerely,

Jonathan Sims, Bournemouth  

P. S. I think I’m right about the docks.

Gerard scowled at the post script. That little… he sighed. Two thirteen year old boys he had no business looking after. He shook his head.

The ending was nice. Through all of his bluster Jon was worried about him, but if he thought Gerard wouldn’t go down to Bornemouth and kick his arse for going anywhere near the docks after he had explicitly told him not to…

He got up and grabbed a pen and paper.

Jon,

Do. Not. Go. To. The. Docks.

I’ll look into it.

-Gerard

P.S. I’m fine.

He stared at the letter. He should go into it a bit more, but he was too tired for it. He put it in an envelope and addressed it, planning to send it the next day. For now he’d sleep. Try to figure out what to do with Martin.

[swindlersstole]

24 for your choice of pairing!!

if YOU get to have OC Hours then I ALSO get to have OC Hours, those are the rules (although mine are platonic hours)

24. “You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

~

“So... let me make sure I understand this.” 

Chelan fidgeted rather obviously while Nova stared her down, hands locked in a flat steeple at his lips. It wasn’t his intent to scare her, not in the slightest, but the request she’d made of him was... trying, to say the least.

“You,” He pointed at her with both hands still flat together, “want me,” He gestured to himself, “to make you... a bunny suit.”

“...I mean, if you’re gonna put it like that,” Chelan mumbled, “yeah, that sounds completely bonkers.”

“That’s... you’re being very kind about it.” Perhaps Nova was just coming at this from several sour notes in his past regarding the costume, but it really felt like he was missing just as many links in this puzzle. “I don’t... mind, but I guess, just--why?”

“Well--you know what it’s like to idolize someone, don’t you?” 

“I... yes?” There was so much to unpack in just that one sentence. “Are you saying you... looked up to a bunny girl?”

“Oh, not just one, a whole bunch!” Chelan’s bright green eyes lit up even brighter in excitement. “I grew up in a casino, remember? So I’ve been surrounded by bunny girls my whole life. I’ve always thought they were the most prettiest women I’ve ever seen! Just all this long, soft hair, and tight clothes, and perfect makeup, just--so glamorous. And tough, too! I never saw a cottontail without a smile, and they all handled angry customers like you wouldn’t believe, they didn’t take any lip! And they were always so sweet and kind to me...”

Her eyes wandered off skyward, and she held her face in her hands with a wistful smile. “They were just everything I wanted to be when I was little, this--just beautiful woman with so much charm and mystery and... pizzazz... who knew how to have fun but was always taken seriously, no matter what. What’s not to love, honestly!”

Hearing Chelan talk like that, it was hard for Nova to argue. Despite his own experiences, he supposed there were worse professions to idolize.

He couldn’t think of any, but the odds were in favor.

Chelan seemed to realize she’d rambled off, and jumped back to attention with a loud cough. “Um--’course, I understand that that... might be sort of hard for someone outside my bubble to follow. Especially someone that doesn’t like casinos all that much, but--”

“Wait, wait, what?” Nova cut in. “I like casinos just fine.”

“You do?” Chelan’s pigtails bounced with a perplexed tilt. “But Erik said they were pretty hit or miss with you.”

“No? I always thought I could hold my own in one. And I’ve visited your family’s casino a lot of times before...” He pondered about it for a moment, before snapping his fingers in realization. “Oh, you know what? It’s probably because I never want to go to Octagonia’s casino. Can’t stand that place.”

“Really? I heard it was pretty nice. What’s wrong with it?”

“It knows what it did.” And Nova said no more on the matter. “But, I guess to follow that up... you live and work in a casino, right? Can’t you just get a costume through work?”

“I... I could. In theory.” Chelan started to fidget again, gesturing her hands wildly like scales. “But we’d have to get it tailor made for me, and that means I’d have to talk to Daddy about it. I don’t think he’d have a problem with it, he gives all the girls the choice if they want to wear it or not, but it... it’s my daddy, y’know? It’s an embarrassing thing to ask for, and I’m not the most... poised in front of ornery patrons, and the suits can get a lot of bad attention. I don’t want him worrying about me.”

“You... wait. You wouldn’t be wearing this costume to work in?”

“Ohohoho, nnnnnnnope!” Chelan laughed just a few hairs short of maniacal on that one. “I’m no where near that confident! I’ll take this secret to the grave if I have to.”

“So... hold on. This is a secret bunny outfit that you’re gonna wear in private for confidence boosts. Is that... right?”

Chelan clapped her hands together once in elation. “Exactly! It’s a bespoke cottontail.”

“...Okay, fine.” This onion had far too many layers. It some ways, it was like looking into a highly specific mirror. Nova suspected he’d trigger a migraine if he thought too hard about it. “But if it’s a secret, why are you asking me for help?”

“Because you have the forge Daddy gave Erik when he helped Nana out.” And here, Chelan’s smile turned a bit wry. “And based on what Velvet down at the exchange counter told me, you also have the recipe for the outfit.”

That... was true, yes, he did still have that book. His deep-rooted need to find every recipe he could mixed with an unfortunate miscommunication of a request had led Nova to acquiring that book from the Maras Casino some time ago. How Chelan had deduced that and why it mattered eluded him, but the pained grin on her face told him she was going to explain why.

“Y’know--it’s kinda funny, I don’t actually get much time to play the slots in the casino myself? Have to work the tables, you know how it is.” She started. “But once we got that book on the shelf, I started using my breaks to get some rounds in and earn some extra tokens. I was gonna earn just enough, go exchange them for the book, and then run to the Builders’ Guild for a commission. Would’ve been totally discreet, and no one would have been the wiser.”

Nova had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going. “...and then?”

“And then!” Chelan’s voice was still cheerful, if not a small bit accusatory. “The day I get enough tokens, I run over to Velvet to get the book, and she tells me that a guy came in, just--blasted through the slots, took the recipe and was gone.”

“Oh.” Yep. Exactly as Nova had suspected. He wasn’t sure if he felt... guilty, or not, but he certainly felt awkward about it. “Uh... Sorry.”

“It--no, listen, you couldn’t have known, it’s just the cruel irony talking.” 

Chelan paused to pinch the bridge of her nose, before shrugging her shoulders with a sigh. “Look--I know this is an inconvenience, you have a lot better things to do than make a cottontail costume for a friend of a friend. And, again! Super wild of me to be asking the Luminary for this particular favor, I know! But, the fact of the matter is... you’re the only one I trust to do this. You’re the only one I can trust! And I wouldn’t ask you to do it just because, I still have all the money I set aside for the commission, I’m more than happy and ready to pay you for this, so...!”

Her words trailed off, and without anything more meaningful to say, Chelan lowered herself in a pleading bow. “Please, um... please at least consider?”

This was far from the first time Nova had ever been asked to make something for someone, but it was the first time he’d ever been asked with such... fanfare? Disclaimer? He wasn’t sure what to call it, and he wasn’t sure he liked it regardless. There was nothing natural about people feeling indebted to him, and certainly not over something so (comparatively) minuscule. Luminary or not, one didn’t need a reason to help people, if they were able.

But if Chelan was anything like him (and he suspected that she might have been), then he knew he wasn’t going to make this happen without some manner of transaction. Though he could certainly make it more fair towards her. “Do you still have all the tokens from when you were going to buy the recipe?”

Chelan lifted up her head, bewildered by the question. “I--yeah?”

“Well, I don’t like the idea of taking money from a friend,” he shrugged, “so just give me the tokens, and I’d be happy to call that even.”

Her demeanor changed almost instantly, and she jolted back up, straight and narrow. “Are--are you serious? You’re sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure. I’ll get more use out of the tokens than the gold.” Nova smiled. “It’s probably all going right back to your casino, anyway.”

Chelan’s hands, curled into fists, started to tremble, but her pearly white smile betrayed her joy, and a barely restrained squeal later she’d jumped on Nova in the biggest, tightest hug she could manage. Which was actually very tight, Nova was sure he heard his back crack from the force--which in itself felt very similar to one of Jade’s hugs. 

Oh, Goddess, he really hoped they didn’t have the same measurements.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, thank you so much, I could kiss you right now! But I won’t! Because I’m pretty sure you’ve reserved that spot for Erik!”

“Is it too late to back out for that one?” Nova gasped out, but he was still grinning about it, so he’d accept that tease this time.

“No, because you really need to get on that. Zill wants to cater your wedding.” Chelan let Nova go when he started to sputter. “But, seriously, I mean it. Thank you--so, so much. I can’t even begin to explain how much this means to me.”

“Well... I won’t lie. I don’t really get it, myself. And I don’t think I can write it up as just being ‘a girl thing’, either.” And neither could Chelan, from the looks of it, as she nodded in agreement. “But if something’s important to you, then... it’s important to you, and that’s all that matters. I don’t have to understand it to respect it.”

The admission seemed to catch Chelan off-guard. “So--would you have done it even if I hadn’t said why?”

“I like forging things, and I like forging things for my friends. That’s all there is to it.” Nova answered simply. “’Course, I am glad you told me, though. Now I know I need to keep it a secret.”

“Ah ha... yeah, that... would have been bad.” She laughed quietly, bashfully. “Will you be able to keep it a secret? I guess if Erik knew it wouldn’t be the end of the world, I know he can keep his mouth shut, but...”

“If I forge at home, it’ll be fine. Only person that might find out is my mum, if you’re alright with that.”

“Well, if I can’t trust the Luminary’s mum, who can I trust, honestly?”

“Nobody, that’s who. I’d trust Mum over me any day.” It was his mum that taught him that valuable lesson in understanding others in the first place. Nova would have been remiss not to listen to her even here. “But, you have my silence. Give me a day or so to find all the materials, and I’ll come back to take your measurements. It’ll all be done before you know it.”

Chelan hummed in understanding, and then, silently, raised one hand to Nova, her pinky finger extended. “Promise?”

That level of earnestness and innocence from someone outside of Cobblestone surprised him, just a little, but Nova smiled and raised his own hand, linking his pinky around hers. “Promise.”

[misfitsluug]

just listen to my voice | kritz

uhh this story is kinda old, so im sorry if it sucks; also kritz (kryoz nd fitz) is an underrated ship change my mind. i wanna upload more but im very slow with writing so im gonna upload an old story i wrote a while back lmao,,

anyways, hopefully it’s good! jus a reminder there’s some heavy subjects like, right off the bat so if your uncomfortable, then don’t read it! thank you, and have fun reading :•)

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/ o n e. /

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cam.

The best way to start off the first night of summer vacation is when your Dad decides to kick you out of the house, again. "Fuck you, too," I muttered angrily to myself, kicking a rock that rolled onto the road beside me.

Usually, I don't come till he calls me, telling me about how pissed he is at me for staying out too late. I find it unfair, but I don't say much about it.

Anyway, I head down my favorite diner, my music blasting through my ears and my backpack slung around my left shoulder.

The night breeze hitting my face, the sky sprinkled with tiny stars while the lights from cars and stores passed by.

Once I finally approached the diner, I opened the door with a swing as the bell rang above me. I sat down at a booth next to the window, taking a peek through the menu in front of me.

"Hey, welcome to Nancy's finest wines and dines," The boy in front of me said, I took out one of my earbuds and smiled up at him.

He had blonde bleached hair with brown strips here and there with different moles scattered on his pale face; I took a glance at his name tag.

"Dahlia?" I asked, he chuckled awkwardly. "My name isn't actually Dahlia if your wondering, just covering a shift for a buddy. You can call me John," He replied, pausing as he looked down at the table. "Oh, uhm- you're looking through a kid's menu."

"Huh?" I looked down as well before realizing he was right. "Well, it's pretty late. Can't blame myself I guess."

"Alright, well, lemme fetch you a different menu. Unless you prefer your little kids' menu with crayons?"

"I'll keep the crayons," I grabbed the crayons and managed to make John laugh again. "Okay, I'll be right back."

I watched John walk behind the counter, reaching underneath to pull out a bigger menu and walking back to me. "Do you actually want something to eat?"

"Nah, in all honesty, I just wanted to order a coffee."

"Couldn't you have said that before?"

"Yeah but I'm an asshole like that," I stated, he rolled his eyes and smiled, leaving without a word. I had to admit though, he was pretty cute.

After a couple of minutes, he came back with a mug of coffee and a small bowl of coffee creamers. "Here ya go, uhm.."

"Cameron, Cam for short if you want."

"Here ya go, Cam," He restated, placing everything down before sitting down. "Since your my only customer tonight, tell me more about youself. I'm curious."

"So am I," I retorted, pouring creamer into the coffee.

"Ooh, very mysterious," He said intrigued.

"Maybe," I winked at him.

"Maybe?" He giggled, only making me laugh a bit too.

"You are beautiful," I muttered, slightly blown away at how this conversation is playing out.

"Really? I find that quite doubtful."

"Really? I find what you said quite doubtful," I repeated. "So, Dahlia-"

"It's John."

"What're you doing later?"

"Probably goin’ home, why?"

"Just wondering, gonna head down the train tracks tonight. A little adventure mind you," I explained, a small grin plastered on my face.

"Adventure?" John inquired. "Shouldn't you be going home? It's pretty late."

"Huh, never took you for goody-two-shoes. My dad kicked me out again and I ain't going back yet so might as well entertain myself," I added, taking a sip of my coffee.

"Hm, I'm interested, but what if I don't have any fun on your adventure?"

"That solely depends on you, doesn't it? Plus, I'm pretty good at having fun, maybe more than you if you're so worried about me staying out too late."

"Sounds like a challenge."

"If that's what you want it to be," I dared with a grin.

"Well, my shift ends in a couple of minutes. Mind waiting for a little?"

"I've got all the time in the world, honey," I reassured, John opened his mouth to say something but the man inside the kitchen coughed loudly, catching his attention as he stood up awkwardly.

"As you can see, I should be on my way. Before I go, do you not want anything else?"

"Nah, go ahead and do your job, Dahlia," I joked, John shot a non-threatening look while walking away. I smiled again, the hot rush of the coffee racing down my throat.

I popped my earbud back into my ear, spacing out with my coffee in my hands. After maybe, 20 minutes, I silently glanced behind me a while later, a pair of red doors opened and John walked out without his uniform. He wore a yellow, red and blue hoodie with white ripped jeans. "Hey, you ready?"

"Yeah, let's go," I replied, standing up from the table, turning off my music and putting my phone away inside my backpack, leaving the diner behind.

-

Silence filled the night air; the sound of leaves, sticks, and dirt crunching underneath us while walking through the forest. "Have you been here before?"

"No, I heard about there being abandoned apartments down nearby the train tracks, thought that I might as well check it out tonight," I answered, John nodded. "What about your backpack?"

"Eh, just full of spray paint."

"You know you could be arrested for that?"

"As long as I don't get caught."

"Good point," John answered. We chatted a bit more until finding the train tracks. "Finally, Jesus Christ."

"We still gotta walk more, you do realize that?"

"Yeah well, at least we found your dumbass train tracks," John grumbled.

"You know, you never told me why your Dad kicked you out. You don't gotta tell me but I'm just curious."

"He does that often, it's honestly a habit. He's technically my foster Dad," I continued, I chose not to go into detail. "I dunno, I love him but he can kiss my ass."

"Oh, sorry about that," John mumbled.

"Appreciate it," I answered, it wasn't anything uncomfortable for me to talk about. At some point, a building peered over the trees and as soon as we got closer, we were already there.

"Wow, it looks kinda beautiful."

"Yeah, it does," I agreed, stepping closer to the the apartments, admiring the art scribbled upon the grey walls as I opened up my backpack and pulled out my light pink spray paint, writing my signature (just the word Cam).

"Woah, can I try?" John asked, I nodded and he scrambled through my backpack, after a while, he finally pulled out a blue spray can. "You can do it, Dahlia!"

"Shut the fuck up, Cam," He sneered but I laughed in response, watching him try to write on the wall. "Here, lemme help you," I offered, I put my hand on his as I assisted him with the can, letting him write in his signature. "There you go, told you I'm obviously better at having more fun."

"I gotta admit, that was pretty sick."

"You sure you're up for this?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because you said 'that was pretty sick' but I don't want you to end up getting sick," I teased, John fake-laughed in response.

"Whatever, douche," John insulted, painting more weird scribbles and I joined him. Our laughter was the only thing heard beside the sound of wind and crickets chirping. We painted all over the wall, covering other people's drawings in the process too.

John painted an extremely detailed penis, making the both of us laugh until a snap was heard in the distance.

"Cam?" John inquired, I was still laughing a bit before responding.

"Yeah? What's up?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Uhh, no. Why, what'd you hear?" I asked again, then a much harsher voice shouted.

"WHO'S THERE?!" It shouted, I knew that tone anywhere as I immediately grabbed John by his hand and my backpack, scurrying out as the policeman shouted at us.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" John repeated, his words laced with anxiety.

"We'll be fine, calm down," I spoke, still running until we lost the man in the forest.

We both took deep breaths, leaning against a tree. "I'm-I'm never going another adventure with you again."

"Trust me, you are," I raised my brow with a grin, he huffed and cupped his face. "Jesus fuck, that was terrifyingly delightful."

"Exactly why your gonna wanna go on another adventure one day."

"Fuck off," He spat, I felt a buzz run through my backpack as I grabbed my phone. "Hey, Dad," I sighed, rubbing my head. "Yeah, I'll get home soon- I know. No, I'm not with anybody. Okay, bye.," I hung up.

"What was that about?" John requested.

"Ah, just Dad yelling at me that I gotta go home," I spoke, looking down at my phone again. "It's 12:05 am."

"Oh fuck," John murmured, looking back at me anxiously, I could tell just by glancing at him that he wanted to leave. "C'mon, let's go," I began to walk again, John silently followed me as we reached the town. Almost nobody was outside, therefore most of the stores were completely off and the sound of two cars is heard in the silence; it felt like a ghost town.

We walked without saying a word, only appreciating our company until I broke the silence. "You know, out of the couple times I've gone to Nancy's, I've never seen you. Did you just start working there?"

"Yeah, Mom wanted me to get a job and that's the only place where they'd actually accept me, I guess," John answered. "Or at least, that's the only job that I applied for."

I laughed a little, my cheeks hurting from smiling.

Then we were silent again once we reached the small complex of apartments along the street, I could tell he's never been here before; we stopped in front of the entrance where a tall fence stood.

"Will I see you again? Back at the diner, I mean."

"Depends on when you want me there, honey," I said, winking at him as he silently smiled but I noticed the small tint of blush on his cheeks, however, I didn't mention it.

"Here, I have an idea," I remarked, pulling out a napkin and crayon from the diner. "Does it involve you giving me your number?"

"Yes it does, what I charmer I am. Right?" I said jokingly, handing him the napkin. "Whenever you wanna see me, when your shift is over or whatever, call me. Not like I'm busy."

"Hey, when your Dad called, why'd you tell him that you were alone?"

"Eh, just a habit. He assumes whenever I'm out with somebody, I end up doing drugs but I don't."

"Oh, well. I'll chat with you soon, Cam. Thanks for the adventure," John said as he stepped back.

"Au revoir," I spoke in French while bowing down fancily, listening to Johns giggle as he walked away.

I forgot the code to get inside the complex so I just hopped over the fence, my mind still thinking about John.

I just wish I hadn't gotten attached so quickly.

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1908 WORDS.

[hungline]

moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars

pairing: yoonjin  genre: fluff, witches au, fantasy au, rated t  warnings: trans character, one use of a deadname, swearing  words: 2030

summary: The moon led her here because Seokjin is looking to expand his coven and Yoonji just happens to be the perfect fit. 

⇢ day four of yoonjin week 2019 

Yoonji is a witch of the moon. When the sun goes to sleep, Yoonji can feel the pull of the moon over her skin like its gravity.

The moon is very loving. At least to Yoonji, She is. She has always loved Yoonji, even when Yoonji didn't love herself very much, the moon always has.

Usually, the moon lets her be. She rarely wills Yoonji to do anything and when she does, Yoonji does without thinking. After all, who is she to say no to the one who grants her such beautiful power?

That is why when the sun sets in the west, Yoonji starts moving as quickly as she can. A sliver of coolness rolls down her spine and makes her skin tingle. As she moves closer to her destination, it grows colder and begins to vibrate, her insides all rushing to accommodate the new sensation.

She uses her bike to travel, still unsure of where she is headed until she is almost on the outskirts of town and a diner stands before her in the relative darkness. It's called Moon Diner and Yoonji can't help but snicker as she approaches, shivering as the coldness spreads from her spine and down her arms. Yoonji is quick to lock her bike up at the rack and stares up at the diner's sign once last time before stepping inside.

A bell jingles over the door as she opens it, the sound barely loud enough to carry over the tinny music playing from hidden speakers. Yoonji approaches the counter and sits, idly playing with her fingers as she waits for someone to take notice of her. The cold feeling along her spine is just barely noticeable and she is doing her best to figure out why She led her here, but so far she has come up with nothing that could explain it.

At least not until the waiter sets a menu down in front of her and asks her what she would like to drink.

She looks up and finds herself face-to-face with Kim Seokjin, one of the most prestigious witches in the region and also, but less importantly, her old childhood friend. An air witch who punched people in high school when Yoonji dared to wear a skirt. He was Yoonji's first kiss during a game of spin the bottle when they were thirteen and he was the only boy on the block that ever wanted to play with Yoonji when they were seven. Yoonji had the biggest crush on him during high school, but it wilted after Seokjin graduated and left town for college. After that, they just lost touch and Yoonji did her best to forget everything about him.

"Hello and welcome to Moon Diner. Do you know what you would like to drink or do you need some time?" Seokjin asks as he takes a notepad out of one the wide pockets on his apron and opens it to a blank page, pencil in hand.

Yoonji blinks, her tongue heavy in her own mouth as she tries not to panic. She honestly cannot believe that the moon would do this to her. Everyone knows that Seokjin is looking for a final member to make his coven complete and Yoonji has been seriously considering joining a coven herself since she's twenty-seven now and isn't getting any younger, but she never entertained the idea of joining Seokjin's. Even if they grew up together, he would probably laugh in her face at just the thought of it. No way is this real life.

(She groans internally when she pinches herself and still has not woken up from this dream.)

She must have been silent for too long because Seokjin soon looks up with a furrowed brow and a question on the tip of his tongue, but pauses and stares at her for an even longer moment. Recognition flickers in his dark brown eyes because it isn't like her face actually looks any different than it did when they were kids. Yoonji fights the urge to flinch as she prepares herself for what is sure to come next.

"Holy shit. Yoongi? Is that you?"

Yoonji swallows, feeling determined to correct him and everyone else ever since she promised herself she wouldn't allow her anxiety and fear to hold her back anymore. "It's Yoonji now actually. Um."

"Yeah, I thought it would be different. Sorry, won't happen again." Seokjin's smile doesn't falter, doesn't even twitch as he blinks at her. "Can I ask what your preferred pronouns are? Or is that rude? Sorry, I'm not really sure how this goes."

"She/her is fine. Anything's fine really as long it isn't he/him please, and don't worry. Some people like it when you ask because it means you care, so thank you," Yoonji mumbles, her face warming with each word. "Uh, can I get some orange juice while I decide what to get?"

Seokjin's smile grows as he nods fervently. "Yeah, of course. I'll be right back with your drink."

Yoonji opens the menu he set out in front of her and pretends to browse through it as she focuses on her breathing. Holy crap was that hard to do. She isn't even sure how she got through that conversation, much less how she kept her voice and tone so stable. Someone, please give her an award. She deserves it.

But as Seokjin returns with her drink, she decides that orange juice is just as good too.

"So, have you decided what you want or do you need more time?" Seokjin asks as he places her drink down on the counter.

Yoonji smiles, folding the menu up as she hands it back to him. "The number one western breakfast combo sounds nice. Can I have that, please?"

Seokjin takes the menu back and grins, jotting something down in his notepad. "Of course. I'll bring your food once it's ready."

"Thank you," Yoonji calls after as he steps away towards the kitchen.

Taking a sip from the orange juice, however, makes her falter. There's been sugar added to it and just the right amount too. She never thought Seokjin would remember how she likes her orange juice though, not after it's been almost ten years since they last saw each other. Especially when she remembers that she only had orange juice around him a handful of times anyway. Yoonji takes another sip anyway and stirs the straw around, not wanting the fine crystals to settle.

The tingle in her spine returns when Seokjin does. By now, Yoonji understands what She wants her to do, but she has no idea of how to go about it properly without making a fool of herself. The orange juice is obviously a good sign, as is the bright grin plastered across Seokjin's face. She thanks him, wondering if he will try to make conversation again, but he only nods his head and goes down the counter where another customer is asking for their bill.

Yoonji eats quickly, picking at her eggs and saving her pancakes for last. She hadn't really focused on what the combo actually had in it, but she's thankful for the pancakes. Seokjin comes around a few times and asks her if she will need anything else, but it isn't until she has finished the (quite delicious) pancakes that she asks for the bill.

"Oh, it's fine. It's on the house," Seokjin replies, his smile only tapering off at the corners as she continues to stare at him.

Yoonji furrows her brows, unsure of what this all means. "Won't they dock your pay?"

Seokjin laughs, the high and squeaky laugh that always had Yoonji rushing to laugh with him lest he grew self-conscious due to all the teasing he endured for it. "Moon Diner is mine, Yoonji-yah. It's what pays for most of the stuff my coven needs."

"Oh, right. Your coven," Yoonji murmurs, a weak smile on her lips. "I thought you just worked here. Sorry."

"It's fine. I and everyone in my coven take shifts here to help keep the business going, but they're also pretty annoying. Especially now that they're bugging me about completing the coven too," Seokjin says, one brow raised as he looks Yoonji over from head to toe. "But I'm sure you've heard all of that already. Plenty of other witches have come seeking a place with us. They just never fit right."

Yoonji shakes her head, her cheeks pinkening with the lie. "Not really, no, but I hope you find that someone who will make your coven feel complete."

The cold feeling in spine vibrates tremendously, enough so to have her standing up from her seat and turning swiftly away to make her escape. But Seokjin calls out her name and she cannot help but look back at him, shivering only slightly as She tries to direct Her will on Yoonji.

Seokjin has his hand held out to her, palm down and fist closed. Yoonji can feel her knees start to shake and her breath catches in her throat, but she manages to tear her gaze away from his hand and towards his face instead. She can feel the gazes of others on her, Seokjin's coven watching them, but the gentle smile on Seokjin's face keeps her from looking away.

"You've always been an awful liar, Yoonjichi. I always hoped we would meet again and you would join my coven. I even named my diner after your affinity. I never really could forget you, you know," Seokjin murmurs, his smile growing larger with each moment. "You can say no, but I know She led you here. You've been shivering this entire time and it's pretty hot outside, so I knew it couldn't be from the weather."

Yoonji swallows, not understanding how she's able to breathe without air when she rasps, "Are you sure?"

A smile brighter than any other graces Seokjin's face. "Of course, I am."

"But what about your coven? What if I'm not a good fit?"

"You will be. They already know everything about you. It wasn't like I could keep my mouth shut about my first love anyway."

Yoonji blinks. What the fuck. Nope. This is too much for Yoonji to process all at once. She needs to focus on one thing, the most important thing.

Seokjin wants her.

And wasn't that what she always wanted? Wasn't that why she kept up with all the news about him? Wasn't that why the very moon Herself willed Yoonji here? None of this is a coincidence. Yoonji has dabbled in magic and supernatural creatures for far too long to believe in coincidences anymore.

Whatever it is, Yoonji already has her answer.

She reaches out her open palm and slides her hand under Seokjin's, her fingers willing his own to open. Yoonji presses her palm to his now open one and turns them slowly over until hers is on top. Her fingers tap against his wrist, finding his pulse point easily and pressing down only once before her palm slides up his arm. His mirrors her and soon enough they are grasping forearms.

"Welcome," Seokjin says over their intertwined arms. "I've missed you."

Magic tingles up her arm from her fingertips, the tattoo on her chest sizzling hot for one short moment until the ceremony is complete and Yoonji is able to feel six other bodies of magic in the pit of her stomach. Seokjin's is the strongest as he is the leader, but after him is an earth witch named Namjoon, a fire witch by the name of Jimin, a water witch named Jeongguk, a sun witch named Hoseok, and a nature wizard who goes by Taehyung. Yoonji feels the way each of their magic brightens to welcome her into their circle, but when her own joins the mix, a calm settles over them all.

The coven is now truly complete.

"Thank you for having me." Yoonji manages a smile of her own as she continues to grip Seokjin's forearm, the cold feeling in her spine all but gone and has found it's way to her stomach to greet her new coven. "I've missed you too."

[the-captains-ayebrows]

The Meat Cute Ch. 5

Read from the beginning: FF NET / AO3 or on Tumblr [Prologue] / [Chapter 1] / [Chapter 2] / [Chapter 3] / [Chapter 4]

Anybody still remember this one? I got stuck on this chapter literally for years because I was trying to cram too much into it. So, I got out my meat cleaver, did some carving and it’s finally ready to be served up. Hope you enjoy!

FYI (since it’s been awhile) - italicized sections are flashbacks to Emma and Killian’s night together 8 years prior.

Killian rubs his eyes, thankful that the sun has finally sunk below the treeline. Saturday afternoon passed by in relative quiet. He and Will have already started the process of shutting down the Meat Market for the day, though the barbecue stand will stay open for a few more hours. The sharp jangle of the bell above the door startles Killian out of the daze of routine. He’s even more surprised to note that his customer is David Nolan.

He nods in greeting. “Sheriff Nolan! What can I get for you this evening?”

David pauses, hands on hips and a hesitant furrow to his brow as if he’s not sure how to phrase what’s on his mind. “Actually I came here to ask you a favor.”

Killian raises his eyebrows, curiosity piqued, and gestures for David to go on.

“See, Mary Margaret has me coaching a little league soccer team, and my assistant coach just quit on me.” He glances away, still apparently feeling a little awkward. “I was thinking that-”

“That because I use words like ‘bloody’ and ‘mate’, I might know a thing or two about proper football?” Killian asks, a wry smirk twisting his lips.

David closes his eyes for a second and exhales heavily. “Sorry. You’re right. That was-”

Killian raises his hand in a stop gesture and grins. “I’m just winding you up, mate. No worries. I’d be happy to help.”

David shifts his weight, looking relieved. “It’s just that Henry said you’d talked to him about ‘football’ before.”

Killian can practically hear the air quotes around the word football, and stifles the urge to roll his eyes. One word clicks in his mind. “Henry? Emma's boy is on the team?” he asks, attempting and likely failing to sound casual.

David tilts his head, his gaze narrowing. “Yeah, he is. Is that a problem? I noticed you waiting tables at Emma’s place last night. I thought you guys were friends now or something.”

Friends. Well, that’s one word for it. Acquaintances with an unusual history that they’ve agreed not to discuss and who are on mostly good terms after a rocky start, all while still being (mutually he hopes) intensely attracted to each other - that would be another way of putting it.

“We’re friendly enough, I expect.” Killian pauses, pursing his lips in thought. “Though, it might be well-advised to get her opinion on it before making the coaching job official. She and I have had a run-in or two and I’m not certain I’m completely back in her good graces.”

David frowns. “Do I wanna know?”

“Likely not,” Killian answers, keeping his expression guarded. He isn’t sure how much of their history Emma has shared with David, and he certainly doesn’t wish to get into the subject at the minute.

David nods slowly. “Okay, then. I’ll try to feel her out about it.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper to hand to Killian. “Here’s the schedule and address for the game field. We practice at the empty field next to Swan’s. I’m assuming you know where that is.” He pauses, giving Killian a chance to glance over the schedule. “Think you can handle it?”

“Aye. That’ll be fine.” Killian jerks a thumb over his shoulder at Will. “Scarlett here can man the helm for a few hours in my absence.”

David for the first time takes notice of Will loitering by the back counter, and the two men bob their heads at each other in acknowledgment.

“Thanks, Jones. I owe ya. Hey, why don’t you come by practice tomorrow? You can start running some warm-up drills with the boys while I talk to Emma.”

“Wait. I won’t be required to call the sport ‘soccer,’ will I?”

David crosses his arms over his chest and grins. “As long as you’re willing to help out, I don’t care what you call it.”

“Right,” Killian answers. “See you tomorrow then. Please pay my respects to your lovely wife as well.”

With a final nod, David turns and strides out of the Meat Market. The door has barely closed behind him before Killian hears Will’s cheeky laugh.

“Coaching footie for the little lads, mate?”

Killian turns to face Will with a scowl. “What of it?”

“Befriending the son to get in with the mum. Yup. No one’ll ever see through that,” Will answers with a smug expression that Killian very much wants to punch right off his face.

“Why don’t you keep your thoughts to yourself, mate ? And perhaps get back to work?” Killian pauses as a thought occurs to him, his own smug amusement quickly replacing his irritation. “Or do you want to cut out early today? Got more books to return to the library? Pretending to be an avid reader to get in with the pretty librarian. I suppose no one’ll ever see through that ruse either.”

This time it was Will’s turn to scowl indignantly. “Oi! I’m a man of letters, I’ll have you know.”

“Aye. And those letters are S.O.B.”

“Har bloody har .”

Killian laughs as Will shakes his head and pushes off the counter he’d been leaning against to resume his work cleaning up the shop.

“Honestly, though, does Belle know you fancy her?”

Will glances down at the floor in thought before answering. “Dunno. I’ve been coming ‘round enough, she should’ve gotten the idea by now, but she hasn’t exactly given me the ‘come hither’. Haven’t worked up the nerve to ask her out yet.”

Killian raises an eyebrow and sighs. “Know how you feel, mate. We’re a sorry pair, aren’t we?”

Will snorts a laugh as he continues cleaning. “Too right.”

Killian opens the register, removing the cash drawer. He takes a couple of steps toward his office, but stops, turning back to Will. “I can finish closing up by myself. Why don’t you go check out the selection at the library?”

Will looks up at him then, obviously fighting a grin. “Might just do that. Cheers, mate.” He shucks off his gloves and apron, leaving them on the back counter before hustling to the front door.

“See you tomorrow,” Killian calls out, but Will is a man on a mission. He doesn't turn, instead only acknowledging the words with a half-hearted wave just before the door closes behind him.

And perhaps I’ll see Swan tomorrow as well, he thinks. This should be interesting.

—/—

“So where’s that handsome new waiter of yours?” Mary Margaret asks innocently, fluttering her eyelashes as she takes a long sip from her iced tea.

“Stop.” Emma huffs and presses the icy, metal pitcher in her hand to Mary Margaret’s bare upper arm in retaliation. No prim cardigans today. It may be mid-October, but no one seems to have told the weather. Today’s high is supposed to top out at a balmy 92.

It’s the tail end of a long and blessedly busy Sunday lunch shift. Only a few families from the after-church crowd linger, including the Nolans. Far be it from David and Mary Margaret to miss an opportunity for Granny’s peach cobbler and a little meddling a la mode.

“I’m just saying it was pretty nice of him to tie on an apron and lend a hand. I hope you thanked him properly.”

Emma’s head whips around and David nearly chokes on his cobbler. After a split second’s worth of confusion, Mary Margaret’s eyes widen.

“Not like that! Sheesh, I’m not Ruby, for God’s sake,” she retorts, scandalized. “I just meant I hope you were nice to him, you know, in a friendly and completely G-rated--”

Emma holds up a hand to stop her friend’s rambling. “I fed him some pie and said thank you. Okay, mom? Or do I need to send him a handwritten note, too?”

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes dramatically and David chuckles.

“Well, you know what they say about the fastest way to a man’s heart,” he replies, lifting a forkful of golden syrupy peach by way of example and giving her a little wink before shoveling the bite into his mouth.

“Ugh, not you, too,” Emma grumbles. She sets her pitcher on the Nolan’s table, and plunks herself down on the bench next to David. Her elbow to his ribs and unceremonious “Scoot over!” only prompt more laughter from him as he gladly complies.

Emma looks between her friends briefly, then settles her gaze again on David. “Shouldn’t you be outside setting up for soccer practice right now instead of in here giving me grief?”

David and Mary Margaret share a look. “Speaking of Henry’s soccer team, Tom just quit on me. I need to find another assistant coach before next Saturday’s game or we’ll have to forfeit.”

“What’s the deal with Tom?”

“His allergies,” David answers. “Apparently there’s ragweed growing near the game field. He told me he can’t take it another week.”

Emma scowls. “You’d think a pharmacist would be able to…” she gestures vaguely with her hand, “you know, self-medicate or something.”

“You’d think.” David sighs, shaking his head as he stares back down at his dessert and spears another peach slice with his fork. “Anyway, I’ll be spending my afternoon trying to find someone to replace him.” He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully for a moment, then looks back over at Emma with a hopeful raised eyebrow. “Unless you can think of someone who would do it?”

Something in David’s tone sets off Emma’s internal bullshit detector, but she can’t figure out why. “You can’t just coach by yourself?”

“Nope. The league’s insurance requires at least two adult coaches per team.”

Emma pats David’s arm sympathetically and gets back to her feet, picking up her refill pitcher. “I sure hope you find someone. Henry will be crushed if the team can’t play until you get a new assistant. Speaking of Henry...” She casts a glance around the dining area and frowns, not seeing the boy in question. “Did either of you see where he went? He’s supposed to be in that booth over there working on his science project until practice starts.”

“He and one of his little buddies headed outside with a soccer ball a while ago. I guess they wanted to get an early start,” Mary Margaret answers. “Sorry, I didn’t know he was supposed to be doing homework or I would’ve said something.”

Emma waves away her friend’s apology, but same as with David, some quirk of Mary Margaret’s demeanor is setting Emma on edge.  She just can’t put her finger on what . “No problem. I’ll just go grab him by the scruff of his little pre-teen neck and drag him back in,” she says with a tight smile.

She walks over to the drink station and sets her pitcher down. She pauses there a moment as she wipes her hands on her apron. What are the odds? What are the odds that David casually mentions needing an assistant coach, right after both Nolans tease her about Killian AND Henry disappears with a soccer ball in hand?

He’s out there, isn’t he?

She grasps the doorknob, looking briefly heavenwards in a prayer for patience with overly helpful friends, then yanks the door open, knowing full well what she’s going to see mere steps from the building. There they are. Henry and his teammates, all red-faced and panting like puppy dogs, running drills in the afternoon sun, thankfully this time kicking away from the street.

And there, off on the sideline barely a few yards away is … Oh holy hell.

Emma swallows hard, suddenly suffused with a heat that has nothing to do with the blazing temperature outside. She knew. She knew he’d be there. Still, that knowledge had not prepared her for this. For Killian Jones in loose-fitting black soccer shorts riding low on his hips, muscled calves on full display. For the sweat-soaked FC Dallas t-shirt hugging his toned pecs and biceps. For the way the muscles of his throat work, his head thrown back as he gulps from a water bottle. She's near enough she can make out the rivulets of perspiration that roll down his jaw, winding their way past the twin freckles on the side of his neck, and she remembers the first time she saw those freckles up close.

  He turns to face her fully as they step onto the dance floor, and in a blink, his arm is around her waist, pulling her body flush to his. A thrill of excitement runs down her spine. She’s so distracted by the feeling of his lean, defined torso pressed against her ( God, he’s warm. Almost too warm ), that she might’ve missed the bob of his Adam's apple if it weren’t right at her eye level.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious for reasons she can’t explain, she takes a moment to slowly pan her gaze upwards, mapping the freckles that dot the column of his throat, the scar that marks one sculpted cheekbone. Still not quite ready for eye contact, she instead looks down to her side where Killian is gently taking her hand. Her eyes follow the movement of their joined hands as he raises them until they’ve assumed the usual dancing posture. Her heart is pounding, and she doesn’t know whether to be exhilarated or annoyed at herself for getting so worked up over just touching this guy. She finally allows herself to meet his eyes.

The look he’s giving her makes her toes curl - searing, but also searching - and she decides to let herself go, to give in to what she’s feeling. So she smiles at him, something soft and real, and he smiles right back.

“Hold on tight, love.”

She intends to.

  That thought wakes her up and she looks down quickly, chiding herself for so blatantly ogling him. Geez, all that scene needed was slo-mo and a guitar rock anthem playing in the background. At least he didn’t see me. The sound of throat clearing draws her attention. She looks up again to see Killian smirking at her.

“Quite hot, don’t you think, Swan?” he practically purrs, his tongue flicking to the corner of his mouth.

Or maybe he did. Smug bastard. She glares at him, but doesn’t take the bait.

“I mean outside, of course,” he continues innocently. “I was about to bring the lads indoors for a water break. Need to keep the squad properly hydrated.”

“Uh-huh,” Emma replies skeptically, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling in spite of herself. “Come on in. Tea and lemonade are on me.”

There’s the expected commotion as a troop of sweaty pre-teens files into the restaurant. During the shuffle, Mary Margaret grabs David’s truck keys and waves her goodbyes to the room, heading home to grade papers. The kids get situated at a long table, with David taking a seat at one end. He leaves the empty seat across from him for Killian, but instead of joining the group, Killian seems to be lingering a bit.

He’s close. Not inappropriately so, but enough that Emma catches the scent of clean sweat and woodsmoke that clings to him. And speaking of clinging, the way that t-shirt clings to his chest should really be…

Blinking quickly, Emma clears her throat. “I’ll just go get those drinks then.”

She turns toward the kitchen, but before she can get through the swinging door to hide the flush that’s creeping up her face, she hears footsteps behind her.

“I’ll help you, love.”

That’s just… great. “Fine,” she replies without looking back at him. “But no apron for you this time. Don’t want you sweating all over it. And wash your hands.”

His low, rumbling laugh follows her into the kitchen.

Emma grabs two large serving trays from a shelf and begins filling glasses with ice as Killian moves to the sink and washes his hands as commanded.

When she glances over at him, he gives her a sly smirk. “So, we’re back to being prickly today, are we?”

Emma frowns as she scoops ice into another glass. “I’m not prickly. I just don’t want to get tagged with a health code violation.”

Killian turns the faucet off, and looks at her appraisingly. “Then I suppose you’d better wash up as well,” he taunts, then flicks the water off his fingers at her.

“Hey! You’re getting me all wet!” she exclaims, then her eyes widen as she sees him pressing his lips together tightly, mirth dancing in his eyes. Before the barely repressed innuendo can burst out of him, she points a scolding finger at his chest. “Don’t even.”

His shoulders shake with silent laughter and he holds his hands up in surrender. “I wouldn’t dare, love.”

“Good,” she declares haughtily before returning to the task of pouring the drinks.

Killian grabs a pitcher of lemonade and starts to work on the second tray. “Honestly though, haven’t I proven to you by now that I’m not the enemy?”

Without looking up from her task, she answers him in a quiet voice. “I don’t think you’re the enemy.”

“Well, that’s something at least. I understand that my showing up here in your life - especially the manner in which it happened -” he runs a hand through his hair with a nervous chuckle. “I get that it caught you off guard. Believe me when I say it was quite the shock to my system as well, but you’ve nothing to fear from me, Swan. There’s no need for defenses.”

His tone is plain and sincere, and Emma makes the mistake of looking up to meet his too blue, too earnest eyes. “The thing is, my life - Henry, the restaurant, all of it - it’s a very fragile balance, and you and I barely know each other. The people we are now anyway. I just…” She turns her attention back to the drink tray and pours the last glass of lemonade. “I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you.”

Killian doesn’t respond right away, and she finally looks back up at him. She doesn’t know she expects to see, yet is still surprised to find him merely regarding her with quiet consideration.

“Okay,” he answers, “but has it ever occurred to you that by that logic you’re absolutely eliminating any chance that you’re right ?”

Emma’s mouth falls open, her breath catching in her throat and a strange tightening in her chest. Before she can reply, or more accurately, before her brain can cease it’s frantic whirring and even make an effort at formulating a reply, Killian gives her a small smile and shoulders one of the heavy laden trays. He turns wordlessly toward the kitchen door and Emma hefts the other tray and follows behind.

“You make a fair point, Swan,” he says casually just before they exit the kitchen. “While you and I know some rather intimate details about each other, we never really got to know the little things.”

“Guess so,” Emma agrees, suddenly wary. She eyes him quizzically as they walk the short distance across the dining room and set the trays down on an empty table.  She picks up a glass in each hand, and moves to the team table to begin distributing them. “So what do you want to know?”

Killian frowns in thought, picking up a couple of glasses as well to assist. “Favorite color?” he asks, setting the glasses on the table and moving to grab more.

“Yellow,” Emma answers as she continues passing out the lemonade to the eagerly awaiting boys. “You?”

“Green,” he replies automatically, but there’s something in the way that his eyes flick down after he says it, his long eyelashes dusting his cheeks, that makes Emma’s heart flutter.  “Favorite food?” he asks, settling the last two glasses in front of Henry and David and finally taking a seat at the table himself.

Emma walks to the head of the table to stand with Killian seated to her left and David to her right. Henry leans forward in his chair to peek at her around David’s shoulder.

“I know this one,” her son pipes up. “Fried stuff with cheese.”

David crosses his arms and rests them on the table. “Now hang on there, Henry. That’s what she eats every day-” he pauses to give Emma a pointed glare, earning him a swat on the arm from her. “But, let’s not forget that your mom is a carnivore. I think her actual favorite thing is a good steak.”

“Humans did not claw their way to the top of the food chain to eat vegetables, okay?” Emma retorts, earning her a laugh from those in earshot and a nod of agreement from David.

Killian simply grins at her and she doesn’t want to think about that too much, so she taps her fingernails on his tea glass. “So, here’s a question for you. Tea. Hot or iced?”

Killian quirks an eyebrow at her. “Ah, now we’re getting down to truly important matters. You know, England may revoke my dual citizenship for this, but I’ve actually come to quite like it iced. Never sweetened, though. That’s a sacrilege I cannot abide.” He finishes the statement with a shudder as if the very thought pains him.

David laughs heartily. “And that statement could get you booted out of the Great State of Texas, mate. ”

Emma hums. “So is the interrogation over now? Or is there something else you’d like to know?” She extends her hand to Killian in an offer to shake, and fakes a bubbly voice. “I’m Emma Swan, age 29 and I like wildflowers, cheap clothes and expensive makeup. Nice to meetcha,” she says with a sarcastic smile.

Killian laughs and takes her hand. “Killian Jones, age 34, and I enjoy classic rock, cheap beer and expensive guitars.” He gives her hand a firm, businesslike shake. “Enchanted.”

David rolls his eyes at the pair of them and gulps the last of his tea. He leans forward to look down the length of the table at his team and claps once to get their attention. “Okay, guys. Break time’s over. Let’s get back out there and run some more drills!”

There’s a general shuffling and scraping of chair legs against the wood floor, and soon the group is headed out the door. Killian hangs back just long enough to send one last warm smile Emma’s way.

“Definitely enchanted,” he says with a wink, then jogs off to join the team.

—/—

Monday morning arrives, as does Emma's regular delivery from the Meat Market. She signs the delivery slip and as she gives the clipboard back to the driver, he in turn places a small, flat parcel in her hands.

Emma looks down at it blankly, taking in its pristine white paper wrapping, tied with butcher’s twine in a neat bow with a single yellow wildflower tucked beneath the string. “What the hell is this?” She asks, but when she looks up at the driver, he's already holding out a small note card covered in tidy script. She takes the note and reads:

“A brown-eyed susan for a green-eyed Swan and some extra protein to strengthen my star midfielder. Please enjoy.

-KJ”

That smooth sonuvabitch, she thinks with a shake of her head. She looks up to return the package to the driver but he's already back in the cab of his van.

“Wait!” she calls. “I can't-”

“Sorry, miss,” he replies through the open van window. “I was told there are no returns or exchanges on bonus items.” He gives her a cheerful wave and drives away.

“Oh, I'll just bet you were,” Emma mutters to herself, but as she looks down at the parcel again the sight of the little flower has her fighting a smile. She furtively glances around (as if anyone would be out at this godforsaken hour of the morning to see her), and pulls the bloom free, tucking it carefully behind her ear.

When she returns to her kitchen, she opens the parcel to find two absolutely beautiful tenderloin filets. Emma's teeth pull at her lower lip. On one hand it's kind of a weird (albeit thoughtful) gift, but on the other, well… She does have a peppercorn rub she's been meaning to try, and really there's no sense in wasting a prime cut of beef. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice that sounds just like Ruby is shouting, ‘ Girl, that's what I've been saying! ’ but she ignores it. Mostly.

And maybe if she gently re-wraps the steaks and places them in her fridge with a goofy grin on her face, and maybe if she puts her flower in a little glass by the register so she can look at it all day, well then that's her own business.

—/—

It’s a gorgeous, clear blue Saturday afternoon. Perfect game day weather. Autumn is finally catching up to Storybrooke, and what with the breeze that toys with Emma’s hair making her wonder why she even bothered to brush it this morning, it could almost be considered cool outside.

Emma hoists her folding lawn chair out of the VW’s trunk and totes it over to the sidelines to join Mary Margaret and the other team moms. Despite the lovely day, there’s an ominous feeling in her chest, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. On the positive side, she’d finally convinced Granny divulge her secret onion ring recipe. Emma had tested it today during the lunch rush, handing out free samples to a few of her regular customers. Everyone raved about them, both for the nostalgia of bringing back a ‘classic’ as well as the actual flavor.

The response should have given Emma a boost of confidence about the potential for more revenue and new (or returning) customers, but there was something else that niggled at the back of her mind. No one had said anything to her directly, but as she’d worked the floor with the lunch crowd, she’d overheard a few statements about the barbecue sauce. ‘ Sauce seems kinda bland today,’ ‘You’re just used to Jones’s sauce,’ ‘Think Jones would bottle that stuff?’ ‘Swan’s has better food, but that sauce, man. It’s addictive.’ Emma files those comments away to process later.

She sighs as she removes her folding chair from its tote bag and settles it down next to Mary Margaret’s empty seat. She spots her friend further down the sidelines talking animatedly to David who has his arms crossed and brow furrowed. Emma smiles to herself  and wonders who’s actually running this show. Mary Margaret’s ‘helpful suggestions’ have been known from time to time to come out sounding more like royal decrees.

She picks Henry out of the cluster of boys jogging toward the team bench. She waves to catch his eye, and he offers her an only slightly embarrassed sounding, “Hey, mom!”

“Hey, kid!” Emma smiles broadly. He must really be excited about this game for him to publicly acknowledge her like that - adolescent street cred be damned - and she’s happy for him.

Her exchange with Henry apparently draws someone else’s attention to her as well. A second later, a deep, accented voice calls out, “Bring it in, lads!” and soon the owner of said voice is sauntering her way. He’s wearing those damn soccer shorts again, this time paired with a green t-shirt with ‘Cobras’, the team’s name, emblazoned across his chest in crisp, white letters. Not that she’s looking at his chest. Or his calves. Dammit, she’s never really been one to notice a man’s legs before. Why does her stupid brain have to start now? Emma swallows hard, trying to will her pulse back to a normal pace.

“Swan! Glad you could make it,” he says, a now familiar smirk gracing his lips. “You look lovely in green.”

“Well, it is the team’s color,” she replies with a shrug. Of course that’s why she wore this top. Not because it has a particularly flattering neckline, and certainly not because he mentioned that green was his favorite color the other day. “Just showing some team spirit.” She manages to keep her voice even, but he’s raking his eyes over her, swaying further into her space and licking his lips and dammit why is her face heating up like this?

“Right,” he says, leaning in and lowering his voice as if imparting a secret. “I rather fancy that shade of pink on you as well.”

Emma glares at him, but her flush only deepens. She huffs in frustration, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Was there something you wanted?”

He chuckles and steps back to a more respectable distance, but there is mischief in his eyes. “Oh, Swan, there are a great many things I want,” he answers with a wink, and Emma’s stomach does a strange little flip.

He pauses a beat, bouncing on the balls of his feet and his demeanor shifts from cocky to something more sincere. “But, I only meant to inquire about the steaks I sent over. Did you like them?” His hand reaches up to scratch behind his ear in a surprising show of insecurity, and this time it’s Emma’s turn to smirk.

“Wait, was that your weird way of buying me dinner without actually having to ask me out?”

The tips of his ears turn red ( score one for Emma! ), but he manages to maintain his cool exterior. “Nothing of the sort, love. Merely a gesture of goodwill to my biggest customer.” Cool turns to flirtatious, and his sky blue eyes bore into hers. “I can assure you,” he drawls, “if I were to court you, you would know you were being courted.”

A voice in the back of her mind shouts that she does, in fact, know it, and she’s not really sure what to do with that knowledge yet. Emma realizes her mouth has fallen open slightly, so she swallows. “In that case, the steaks were delicious, though I’m not sure Henry even tasted his. He basically inhaled it.” Emma glances over to the bench, indicating the boy in question.

Killian laughs lightly. “I’m glad to hear it. Afraid to say, the hoovering of food is part and parcel for a growing lad. My brother used to insist that I must’ve had a hollow leg to eat as much as I did and stay so scrawny.”

Emma watches, her eyes widening as flashes of emotion cross his face in rapid succession: a warm smile at the memory is quickly replaced by a flicker of pain and finally covered with a blank mask. It may have been eight years since she’s heard about Killian’s brother, but she realizes exactly how big of a deal it is for Killian to have not only spoken of him at all, but to mention him so casually and cheerfully.

The fact that he would be so unguarded with her, even for just a second, well… it matters , and Emma feels the weight of the moment at odds with a funny sort of lightening sensation in her heart. She reaches out to touch Killian’s arm, but as soon as her fingers make contact, he subtly pulls away, turning to face toward the field.

Okay then , Emma thinks. New tactic. In order to change the subject, or rather return to the previous one, Emma bumps her shoulder against his.

“Anyway, thanks for the steaks.” When he turns to her with an arched brow, she feigns a scowl and adds, “But you really shouldn’t have.”

Dimples cut into his cheeks as that damn eyebrow raises higher. “Ah, Swan, it was my pleasure. Besides, I told you I’d be more than happy to slip a little extra meat in your box anytime.”

“And we’re back to the innuendo.” Emma rolls her eyes, but a smile flirts with the corners of her lips. They’re quiet for a beat. Killian turns his attention back to where David seems to be giving the boys a pre-game pep talk. Emma glances down the sidelines. Now that she’s taken a minute to notice, she’s painfully aware of the looks they’re getting from some of the other team moms, ranging from casual ogling of Killian to outright jealousy of the attention he’s paying her.

Emma clears her throat, drawing Killian’s attention back to her. “Get outta here, Jones. Go do coach-y things.” She gives his shoulder a one-handed shove vaguely in the direction of the field and he laughs, the spark he’d lost for a moment now blazing back full force.

“As you wish,” he replies, inclining his head to her in semblance of a bow before turning and jogging over to join his team. She shakes her head, chuckling softly at his ridiculousness. He casts one last look at her over his shoulder, and she can't help but smile at him.

Interesting , Emma thinks as the referee blows a whistle to officially start the game. Things get awkward or a little too real and he reverts to flirting and innuendo. For a man who likes to talk about her defense mechanisms, he seems to have one or two of his own.

Emma walks over to the cooler one of the parents brought and grabs a can of Diet Dr. Pepper. By now, Mary Margaret has resumed her seat on the sidelines, so Emma joins her to settle in and watch the game.

And Emma does watch the game. Mostly. Middle school intramural soccer isn’t the most riveting thing ever, but she does genuinely enjoy watching Henry have fun. The boys actually seem to be playing a little bit better this week, too, so maybe David made the right call asking Killian to help out as a coach.

Emma’s known forever that David was good with kids - Henry calls him Uncle David for a reason - but as she looks down the sidelines for probably the hundredth time, she has to admit that David isn’t the only one looking like a pro with the boys. Watching Killian now, Emma can hardly believe she ever thought he could be anti-kid.

He’s enthusiastic, encouraging, and the team clearly respects him. He’s animated to the point that it’s hilarious. He gets so excited when the team scores their first goal that his voice actually cracks as he cheers them on. He scowls and snarls every time the referee makes a call he doesn’t agree with. His hands have spent so much time pulling at his hair in anxiety on the boys’ behalf that it’s now sticking up haphazardly in every direction. And that is in no way attractive as hell.

Not to mention that he and David make quite the pair, between all the high-fiving and chest bumping - a fact not lost on Mary Margaret.

“Well, I think Tom Brady has officially been replaced as David’s man-crush.” Mary Margaret says, snapping Emma out of her reverie. Emma tries and most likely fails to make it seem as though she wasn’t just staring at Killian - another fact Mary Margaret picks up on. “You know, if you don’t want to go out with Killian, I think my husband might.”

Emma snorts a laugh, and Mary Margaret continues. “Actually you both may have some competition.” She bobs her head to the side, indicating where she wants Emma to look. “Don’t those three hussies have kids on the other team? The way they’re looking at Killian, I think they’ve got more than good sportsmanship in mind.”

“Did you seriously just say ‘hussies’?” Slowly turning her head in an attempt to be subtle, Emma scans the sideline (again) and sure enough, a trio of buxom blondes has appeared practically out of nowhere and is rather effusively trying to ply Killian with Gatorade, giggling and fawning at him the whole time. Something feral stomps and growls in Emma’s gut at the sight, but it’s quickly tempered with a little bit of amusement at how utterly (if politely) uninterested Killian appears and how much the spectacle seems to be irritating Gaston, the opposing coach.

“I think you may be right,” Emma replies as coolly as she can, despite the fact that Killian keeps darting glances her way, his eyes seeming to beg for a rescue from his new admirers. At this point she’s trying not to smirk from an irrational sense of triumph, but she refuses to give Mary Margaret the satisfaction. “Can we please just watch the game?”

Emma takes a sip of her canned drink as Mary Margaret eyes her knowingly. “Yeah, it’s definitely the game that you’ve been watching.”

“New subject,” Emma says, the implied ‘don’t push it’ hanging in the air between them.

“Fine.”

Eventually the three women give up and head back to their own sideline. As they walk away, Emma unclenches her jaw, realizing she’s been biting the inside of her cheek the whole time. The game is going well and she’s just starting to relax when Mary Margaret casually sips from her water bottle and peers at Emma from the corner of her eye.

“So your birthday is this Thursday.”

Shit. After twenty two years of friendship are we really having this conversation again? “I guess so,” Emma replies, deliberately keeping her eyes on the field. “Hey, that was a pretty good pass.” Emma pops up from her lawn chair, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Go Henry!” she hollers, catching his attention briefly and earning her a quick, subtle thumbs-up from her favorite boy.

Emma settles back into her seat and Mary Margaret continues, blatantly ignoring the fact that Emma is blatantly ignoring her. “It’s your thirtieth.”

“Uh huh.” Emma scowls as a kid from the other team steals the ball and begins dribbling it back down the field in the other direction. She knows Mary Margaret isn’t going to let up, but she’s determined not to make it easy for her friend to lure her into a conversation about her birthday. Mary Margaret has been dropping hints for weeks about planning a birthday party for Emma, but really - she knows how Emma feels about the subject. Just because “It’s a milestone, Emma,” and “You’ve come so far, Emma,” doesn’t mean she’s ready to embrace Mary Margaret’s ideas about celebrations and specialness.

It’s not until she hears Mary Margaret’s sharp exhale of annoyance that she finally turns to face her friend. Emma can’t stop the immature roll of her eyes in response to the “teacher-face” she receives.

“Okay, how about this?” Mary Margaret asks in her most reasonable tone. “You and Henry can come over to our house Thursday night after the boys get done with their practice. I’ll cook a big meal and we can all have just a nice, low-key family dinner together. Sound okay?”

Emma purses her lips, considering the offer. “Something greasy and unhealthy?”

Mary Margaret smiles indulgently. “I’ll bust out the deep fryer if I have to. And bake you a cake.”

“No. No birthday cake. No candles. And no singing.”

“You’re telling me you don’t want dessert?” Mary Margaret raises her eyebrow skeptically.

“I didn’t say that ,” Emma hedges. “You could make those homemade cinnamon rolls I like…”

“That’s a breakfast food, not a dessert.”

Emma does her best impression of the puppy eyes Henry likes to use on her when he wants something. “But it’s my birthday?”

Mary Margaret shakes her head and chuckles. “Done. So we’ll see you Thursday night?”

“Okay. We’ll be there.” Emma leans sideways to bump her shoulder against her friend’s. It’s a small gesture, but she hopes after all these years that Mary Margaret understands what she means. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for giving a damn about me. Thank you for not pushing. When she opens her mouth, however, all that comes out is a simple, “Thanks.”

—/—

Several hours later, Emma finds herself wishing all her friends were as understanding as Mary Margaret.

Henry’s team lost, but the score was much closer than the last game. Since Emma had to go back to the restaurant, Henry - after giving Emma a very sweet, but sweaty hug - hitched a ride home with David and Mary Margaret. At the time Emma left, Killian had been busy talking with other team parents, and Emma noted with some degree of smugness that the other moms from Henry's team were a lot less brash about ogling the hot coach when their husbands were standing right next to them. Though she and Killian had actually gotten along pretty well at the beginning of the game (okay, they’d flirted shamelessly), she was relieved that she could slip away from the game without much more than a wave goodbye from a distance. The way he’d smiled at her was something she wasn’t prepared to think about too deeply.

And speaking of things she didn’t want to think about...

“Ruby, no.” Her phone had rung nearly the second she’d walked into her house after closing down the restaurant for the night. She expected it to be David calling to let her know that he was about to bring Henry home, so she was surprised to see Ruby’s number on her phone screen. It didn’t take long for Ruby to make her motives for calling crystal clear.

“Ruby, YES.” Emma can hear her friend’s wicked grin even through her shitty cell phone connection. “Emma, it’s your Dirty Thirty! You HAVE to have a party.”

“I have…” Emma flounders for a word that will get Ruby off her ass about throwing some ridiculous drunken fiasco in honor of Emma’s birthday, but finally decides no such word exists. “Plans,” she finishes lamely.

“Uh huh. Yeah. And what are these plans exactly?”

“Having dinner at David and Mary Margaret’s.”

As expected, Ruby scoffs. “That doesn’t begin to count as a party, hon’.”

“Hey! You know I’m not into the whole birthday thing, and it’s actually a pretty big deal for me to have someone else do the cooking for once. Besides, I’m bringing a date.”

“YOU MEAN YOU FINALLY ASKED KILLIAN OUT AND YOU DIDN’T TELL - Oh, wait. You mean Henry, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Ruby’s sighs dramatically. “Emma, I love Henry to death. He’s my favorite little dude, so don’t get me wrong here. But you need some grown up fun. So, go have your nice family tea party with the Nolans on Thursday night, but by 10pm on Friday I expect your ass to be in my bar. That’s when the fun begins.”

Emma grunts, both a show of frustration and a wordless admission of defeat. “Remind me why I’m friends with you again?”

Before Ruby can answer, Emma hears the front door open and Henry shuffles in with a sleepy, “Hey, mom.” She smiles at him and reaches out to scratch his back as he passes her, heading straight toward the kitchen.

“Because I gave you your first tube of lipstick. And because you love me,” Ruby replies smugly.

Emma smiles to herself. “Yeah, I guess it was something like that. Alright, I’ll see you Friday, Rubes.”

Emma hangs up her phone, just as Henry emerges from the kitchen, a plate of leftovers in his hand.

“What’d Aunt Ruby call about?” he asks around a mouthful of food.

“Didn’t you eat dinner at the Nolans’?” Emma responds, ignoring his question for the moment.

He rolls his eyes, a habit he unfortunately inherited from her. “I did , but you know, losing really works up an appetite,” he answers with a cheeky grin.

“Hm. If you say so, kid, but I was really hoping you’d be further into your teens before you started eating us out of house and home.” Emma sighs. “Anyway, I was just telling Aunt Ruby that you and I are going over to Aunt Mary Margaret and Uncle David’s house for a big dinner on Thursday. You can walk home from practice and take a shower, and I’ll come pick you up from the house to drive over there.”

“Cool! Is this a thing for your birthday?” He shovels more food in his mouth.

Emma nods, not wanting to get into a birthday discussion with yet another person today. “How about you go sit down with that.” She gestures at his plate. “At least pretend you weren’t raised in a barn?”

Henry moves over to the couch, setting his plate down on the coffee table in front of him. Emma follows and settles down on the cushion next to him.

“Nah, I was raised by wolves,” he says, picking up the remote and clicking on the TV.

It’s Emma’s turn to roll her eyes. She wonders how Granny and Ruby would feel about that particular turn of phrase, since they were his constant babysitters most of his early life.

“Aunt Ruby also wants me to go hang out with her at Howl on Friday night after I close down the restaurant. Think you can spend the night at Avery’s?”

Henry frowns. “I think his family is going out of town that weekend.”

Emma ponders this for a moment. “How about I ask Granny if you can stay over at her house?” It’s not as exciting an option as a sleepover with friends, but Emma and Henry both know full well Granny will spoil the snot out of him. There will definitely be a pie involved.

She can see the wheels in her son’s head turning, and a small smile begins to tickle at the corners of his lips. “Yeah. That’d be okay I guess,” he answers with feigned disinterest.

Emma reaches over and tousles his hair. “I’ll call her tomorrow.”

—/—

The sky has slowly turned from overcast to downright threatening as the boys finish their last round of drills on Sunday afternoon. Killian is thankful when David blows his whistle to signal the end of practice. To be honest, he’d hardly been paying attention the last half hour anyway, not since Emma came outside her restaurant to bring him and David large take-out cups of ice tea. She hadn’t said much, just an exchange of pleasantries really, but there was something in her smile today - half-hidden, but present nonetheless - that filled him with hope.

He’s winning her over, he thinks. He feels it in his bones. His goodwill gesture seemed to have had the intended effect, and he doesn’t believe he’s deluding himself in thinking that they shared something of a moment before the game yesterday. Bloody hell, they’d been so at ease with each other bantering back and forth that he’d actually talked about… He shakes himself out of the memory and begins rounding up footballs (he still refuses to call them soccer balls) and gear to load into David’s truck.

“Heads up, coach!”

Killian looks up in time to see Henry throw a ball his direction and he snags it out of the air one-handed. “Oi! There’s no throwing in football,” he says with a feigned scowl, but Henry’s clearly not buying it. He rolls his eyes at Killian before jogging the rest of the way over. “Good practice today, lad. I’ll see you Thursday evening, yeah?”

Henry smiles brightly. “Oh! Are you going to my mom’s birthday party then?”

Killian blinks in surprise. “Well, I meant I’d see you at our next practice. Is your mother’s birthday on Thursday as well?”

“Yeah!” Henry replies. “The party’s at Uncle David and Aunt Mary Margaret’s house. She’s an awesome cook. You should totally come!” As the lad pauses for breath, David walks over to join them. “Uncle David, tell Killian he has to come over on Thursday.”

David places his hands on his hips and shrugs, a half smile tilting his lips. “Well, from what I hear, Mary Margaret’s planning on making enough food to feed an army, so the more the merrier as far as I’m concerned. You remember how to get there?”

“Aye, I can find it,” Killian answers. “Thanks for the invite, mate. Let me double check that Scarlett and Smee can handle things at work for the whole evening, but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Great!” Henry exclaims. “See ya Thursday, Killian.” With that he dashes off into Swan’s Bar-B-Q to work on homework or eat a side of beef or whatever it is young lads do.

It takes approximately ten seconds for realization to come crashing down on him. It’s Emma’s bloody birthday which means he needs to get her a present , and he doubts raw meat is going to cut it this time. It can’t be anything too extravagant or intimate. It’s far too soon for that. It must be unassuming, yet thoughtful. Something that will impress her, but not overwhelm her.

Bloody hell, he needs to call in reinforcements.

—/—

“Rob, I need to speak to the missus.”

“Killian. Nice to talk to you, too. Oh my day was lovely, thanks for asking. Now why are you calling me at eleven o’clock at night to speak to my wife?”

Killian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Robin is going to take the piss out of him for this. “I need shopping advice.”

“I should say so. I told you your whole black-on-black aesthetic was far too citified for small town life. Unless you’re trying to pass for Johnny Cash.”

“That’s not what-” Killian huffs in frustration. “Just put Regina on the phone. Please. ”

There's a pause where he hears muffled voices in the background. After some shuffling sounds, Regina’s familiar businesslike voice comes on the line.

“Jones, I hear you’re in need of a personal shopper. It’s about time.”

“If you and your husband are quite finished critiquing my fashion sense, then yes. I, erm…” he hesitates, not sure how much Robin has told Regina about Emma. “I need help selecting a birthday present.”

“For whom?”

“A woman.”

“Okay.” He can hear the growing irritation in Regina’s voice. “Are we talking a co-worker? Social acquaintance? You don’t date, so it couldn’t be-” The line goes quiet and Killian assumes Regina is looking to Robin for some kind of confirmation. “It’s for that woman. Emma, right? Sounds like you finally took Robin’s advice and talked to her.”

“Aye, it’s for Emma. Things have been going a bit better of late. Her son invited me to her birthday party and I haven’t a bloody clue what to get her.”

“There’s a lot to unpack in what you just said, but I’ll let it slide for now.” Regina hummed in thought. “A bottle of wine would be tasteful without being over the top. Do you know her favorite varietal?”

“I don’t think she’s much of a wine drinker, to be honest. As I recall she prefers rum.”

“Why am I not surprised? A book, perhaps. That could be personal, but not overly intimate.”

“She works long hours like I do and she has a young son at home. I doubt she has much in the way of free time for reading.”

“So what do you know about her interests?” Regina’s voice had gone flat, well, flatter than usual.

Killian sighs, scratching behind his ear even though no one is around to see it. “I know she likes flowers and rum and Dr. Pepper. She told me she likes cheap clothing and expensive makeup, but I wouldn’t dare attempt to buy her any of that. She cooks and runs a barbecue restaurant just down the road from mine. Perhaps I should get her something for her kitchen?”

“Wait, she’s your competition? Then no. Any cooking-related gifts could be seen as some sort of passive-aggressive insult.”

God, he hadn’t considered that. “Bloody hell, Regina, what am I supposed to get her then?”

He hears Regina take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Finally she answers, “I don’t know, Jones. Buy her some flowers. Maybe get her something from one of those fancy bath shops at the mall. That’s a solid default gift. Besides, if she works as hard as you say, she might appreciate a relaxing bubble bath on occasion.”

The idea of getting Emma a ‘default’ gift hardly thrills him, but he knows he’s reached the end of Regina’s patience. “Alright. I’ll think about it. Thanks, Regina.”

—/—

He had driven forty-five minutes to get to a town large enough to support a shopping mall, but that’s nothing compared to the two hours he’s been wandering aimlessly around this god forsaken place. Shop after shop he’s searched, but nothing seems right.

He stops in the food court to buy himself a soft pretzel on the vague hope that a dose of salt and carbohydrates will somehow spark his inspiration. As he takes a seat at a wobbly and disturbingly sticky table, he looks up and sees it. Directly across from his spot in the food court, large obnoxious yellow signs with red letters proclaim some kind of sale as well as, “For a limited time only: Throwback Favorites!” He hasn’t a clue what that last bit means, but Regina’s suggestion looms large in his mind, and he’s getting a bit desperate.

By the store’s entryway, a lass in a red apron is offering a sample spray of whatever scent is on feature to a teenage girl who’d stopped to eye the display. Apparently the scent is a “90’s classic” that the girl simply must try. The girl nods her assent and the saleswoman spritzes her liberally as Killian returns his attention to the snack in front of him. He’s two bites into his pretzel when the aroma from the bath shop finally hits him - clean, sweet and achingly familiar even after all this time.

  The song goes into its final cadenza, and Killian decides to show off a bit. Well...perhaps he’s been showing off a tad the entire song, but this woman has met him step for step. He’s mesmerized by the way her firm, supple body moves with him, every push and pull, every swivel of her hips, every swish of her hair.

He’d pulled her into his arms hard and fast when they’d first reached the dance floor, just trying to get a rise out of her, but damned if the sensation of holding her for the first time didn’t very nearly get ‘rise’ out of him. The press of her breasts against his chest, her pelvis against his thighs… He’d had to swallow hard, counting backwards from ten to get his body’s reaction to her back under control.

Now she’s laughing, flushed and breathless, eyes bright and he thinks she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He takes her through an elaborate spin, then pulls her in close, one hand at the small of her back, the other sliding up into her hair to cradle her head.  He dips her low as the final chord lingers in the air, and she lifts her chin, granting him access to ghost his nose down the long column of her throat to her collarbone. He holds her there just for a second, just long enough to breathe her in. She smells like heaven. A hint of salt, a dash of something sweet and fresh.

Slowly he raises her back to standing, releasing his embrace and simply letting his hands rest on her hips. Her hair falls forward to frame her face, but he can still see the pretty blush on her cheeks beneath the gossamer strands. He watches her eyes flick down to rest on his lips, her own pink mouth subtly parting. He wants to kiss her - gods above does he want to kiss her - and he will. She’s made it fairly clear where this evening is headed after all. But it’s too soon and it’s too public. They have all night.

Killian huffs a laugh at himself and shakes his head. Perhaps Regina had the right idea after all, though damned if he’ll tell her that. He stands and makes his way toward the store. He knows just what to do.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. ;-)

[clownsgobeepbeep]

❛❛ He/she is clearly quite insane! ❜❜

Mafia AU Goo-Goo Eyes, but with another D’Vitt sibling heheh

Gonna change the sentence just a little bit

@grotesquegabby Because your clumsy gorl is kind of here 

Boredom had truck Maggie once again, perhaps for the third time this day.

She could have visited the casino belonging to the D’Vitts to see if Coraline’s bodyguard could carry her on over to Coraline, but she sadly was nowhere in sight, let alone any of the D’Vitt business properties. So, she instead decided to hang around the docks, just to at least have a feel of the fresh breeze that came from the ocean.

Maggie whistled to herself as she walked along the sidewalk, then adjusting the feather boa draped around her shoulders as the wind attempted to blow it right off. She held onto it tightly, then turning on her heel, deciding to take a different route that was still near the docks.

But as she walked down one of the streets and passed by an alleyway, she tilted her head and squinted her eyes at something she spotted in the alley. A head of red hair, darkened by the shadows in the alley, moved while peeking from behind a small tower of boxes. Instantly, Maggie recognized who this was, so she decided to sneak on over to the redhead, attempting to give them a scare from behind.

“Don’t. Even. Think about it.” Maggie heard once she stood behind the person, feeling a bit surprised as the person now turned around. “The hell you want, Feathers?”

“Not a very creative nickname. I’ve heard better ones.”Maggie replied, now admiring her nails and picking at them. “ I mean, it’s like everybody calling you Ginger Boy.”

“Nobody in my life has ever called me that.”

“Well then, that means I’ve got more creative nicknames than you.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

“Say, Rodrick, is it?”

“Roger.” the man rolled his eyes at Maggie, not bothering to even look at her still, instead still looking over the boxes. 

“Roger. Where’s you sister?”

“Which one?”

Maggie looked over at Roger rather confused.

“I thought you only had one?”

“I do.”

“Ah, a smart-ass I see.”

“Takes one to know one.” Roger shrugged before Maggie stood in front of his view, making him frown and stand both straight and taller than Maggie. “Get the hell out of my way!”

“What are you even looking at?” Maggie turned around but before she was able to see anything, Roger stood in front of her. “Move!”

Soon enough, Maggie shoved Roger away and looked straight out, right across the street, where she saw a bakery. There wasn’t anything very interesting about it, maybe Roger was trying to steal some cake because honestly, that was understandable. But then, through the bakery’s window Maggie could see a woman walk from what was the back of the shop and was soon behind the counter. She looked rather sweet, smiling as she attempted to place some doughnuts into a glass but...dropped one of them and leaned down to pick it up, then making the glass fall as she got back up and accidentally hit it. 

Maggie looked back at Roger who was staring right at the woman, reminding her of what she saw when Vespers and Stellar were together in a room for the first time.

“Goo goo eyes.”

“What?”

“You tease your brother, yet here you are making goo goo eyes at this baker!” Maggie laughed to herself, rather loudly, until Roger placed a hand over her mouth to shut her up. 

“Shut your mouth up! I’m not even supposed to be here at this hour!”

“Alright, alright.”Maggie quietly laughed to herself after Roger removed his hands. “I’ll keep quiet...for now.~”

“Oh, you-”

“Besides, being a creep and stalking her isn’t gonna do you anything good D’Vitt.” Maggie rolled her eyes, now looking at the baker who attempted to clean up her mess, then clumsily knocking over a sign with her broom. “Might as well talk to the girl and introduce yourself.”

“Are you crazy!?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I have children! I...I...no, this isn’t me. I’m not even interested her. Her clumsy ways entertain me is all.”Roger huffed before looking back over at the girl, watching as a customer entered the bakery. 

“Sure-”

“Shut up.” Roger interrupted Maggie, both looking at the woman who greeted the customer but...her smile faltered once the man spoke, her expression becoming flustered. The pair in the alley noticed this, and they both frowned, not even having to wonder what was being said. The baker was obviously uncomfortable and tried ignoring the man, but he wasn’t having it.

_____________

“Can’t a guy just give a compliment? What a fucking tease.” the bakery’s costumer rolled his eyes after finally having gotten tired of being ignored. He had taken a cupcake on the way out, only having taken it without permission which in all honestly, his compliments were enough payment. 

He unwrapped the treat, throwing the wrapper on the ground as he made his way down the sidewalk, but he was very much startled when he was pulled into an alleyway.

“What the fuck!?” the man exclaimed, then feeling an intense punch of pain in his jaw, a literal punch. This sent him to the ground before he felt somebody straddle him.

“Fucking asshat! Don’t you know how to respect a woman!?” came Roger’s voice before he threw another punch, and this one was strong enough to send a tooth flying. 

“I wasn’t doing anything!” the man cried out, then receiving yet another blow followed by a series of others from Roger who’s mercy had completely drained out. After a while, Roger stopped and instead grabbed the man’s collar to bring him close to his face, gritting his teeth.

“Assholes like you don’t deserve to be walking around, let alone existing.”

“Please, just let me go...I’ll, I’ll give you anything!”

“I’ve got everything I want.”

“Hmm, not really.” Maggie chuckled to herself as the man now noticed her, attempting to reach a hand at her.

“Please, d-don’t just stand there! Help me!”

“Hm, no thanks.” Maggie shook her head before kicking his arm away.

“Please! This man, he....He is clearly insane!”

“Honestly, I’m mad as he is about what you did. You really can’t go cat calling girls out like that, and we don’t even know what exactly was said to that woman.” 

“I didn’t mean it! Plea-” Roger threw another punch, then grabbing the man’s head and slamming it rather harshly on the ground several times until Roger knew he was unconscious.

“Great, you killed him.”

“He’s not dead. I don’t want to kill him.” Roger attempted to breathe properly as he now stood up, cracking his neck as he glared at the man’s bloody face. “This was just a warning, and one he sure as hell won’t forget when he wakes up.”

“Oooh, going all mafia on a guy who probably isn’t even part of the mafia.” Maggie joked before turning on her heel as she fixed her boa. “Anyways, thanks for entertaining me today in my boredom.”

And with that, Roger glanced back at the man who moved his hand just a bit, so Roger stepped on his face before going back to the other alleyway. With how pretty and sweet she was, Roger knew that baker was gonna need somebody taking care of her, even if she didn’t know it.

[storytellingfae]

The Exiles - Heart In Thirds

Working at Queen Caffeine had become almost therapeutic for Darius. Even on slow days, there was always plenty to do, as the café was so understaffed it was basically only him and Lawrence working most days. Still, it never seemed stressful, as the place had a natural chill atmosphere. Nice, muted colors in its décor, wallpaper, and wooden floors, with comfortable seating. People had options between cozy booths, simple small tables, or even a few beanbag chairs. He enjoyed knowing that in a way, he was helping others relax early in the morning, even if it was something as simple as serving them drinks or remembering a regular’s name. Outside, socializing didn’t come easily to him. But working here, seeing familiar faces every day, with the occasional new one, it felt easier. Greetings and small talk came more naturally to him. In-between filling drink orders and cleaning tables, he’d gotten to know a few townies he otherwise never would have spoken to. “Yes, Ms. Sherry, I have grown since you saw me last week!” “Sade, how’d you do on your finals?” “Gia, you didn’t pull another all-nighter, did you?” The patrons came and went, though most usually felt more than welcome to linger, if they bought something. It was this homey environment that made working here so much different from an average job to him. And as embarrassing as it was to admit, maybe there was one other reason he didn’t mind there not being many other employees around. As Darius returned to the counter from fulfilling another order, he couldn’t help his eyes drifting towards his co-worker, washing dishes in the back. Darius wouldn’t have ever mustered the courage to talk to Lawrence himself, if Caleb hadn’t introduced them to each other. Leave it to his brother to casually befriend someone Darius could barely look at without getting all flustered. His carelessly messy brown hair, the way he radiated confidence, the way his muscles filled out the uniform’s shirt... Darius caught his face warming up and was about to look away, to focus on anything or anyone else, when Lawrence’s eyes met his. Shock and embarrassment froze him in his spot, as Lawrence smiled up at him. Lawrence dried his hands and approached the counter as Darius felt his mouth dry. He was all too aware of Lawrence’s lips moving, but he couldn’t process the sounds coming out of them. He was too focused on forcing his blood away from his cheeks. “D? You hear me?” Lawrence asked, a bit of amusement in his tone. “I, um, no,” Darius stammered. “C-could you repeat that?” “I asked if you wanted to come to a block party this weekend,” he said. A smirk crossed his face as he saw Darius’s taken aback expression. “It’ll just be a small thing, nothin’ too big, nothin’ to get intimidated by. I’ll look out for you. Caleb’ll probably be there too.” ‘I’ll look out for you.’ Darius had never known five words could make him melt so fast. “Yes,” his mouth said before his brain could stop it. “Y-yeah, I’d like that. Sounds like fun.” Forget that just the thought of partying with complete strangers gave him anxiety, this could be his chance for… For what? He couldn’t honestly think anything would stem from this, could he? Not when Lawrence had… “Ay, Kiki!” Lawrence’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, as Darius noticed him looking past him towards the café’s entrance. The bell chimed, and in walked a young woman with a commanding presence. Long black hair fell like silk over her shoulders, her ruby red lips stood out against her beige skin. She wore a black jacket over her shoulders like a cape, and a black bodycon dress that threatened to take Darius’s breath away as he forced his eyes to stare at the floor instead. She lifted the sunglasses from her dark brown eyes, and it was like a hush had fallen over the café, because all he could hear was the click-clacking of her heels against the hardwood floor. Kikyo Miura. From one of the richest families in Concordia, if not the richest. Kikyo Miura. Practically a legend among the young socialites around town. She smiled, flashing flawlessly white teeth, as she leaned over the counter. “Lawrence,” she greeted in a tone that sent shivers down Darius’s spine. Lawrence didn’t flinch, just smirked as he tucked a strand of her hair out of her face. Darius closed his eyes just in time to avoid seeing them kiss. His jaw tightened, as he hugged himself to stop from shaking. Kikyo Miura. Lawrence Vendez’s girlfriend. Darius felt so stupid. Idiotic. Why did he keep getting his hopes up like this? He didn’t bother excusing himself, just walked away to pretend like he was going to check on a customer. When it was clear no one needed his assistance, he went in the back and started cleaning, avoiding Lawrence’s eyes for the rest of his shift. At the end of the day, he waited outside the shop, looking for a car that wasn’t coming. He called Caleb’s phone. No reply. “D,” Darius started at the sound of Lawrence’s voice, but he didn’t dare glance back at him. “Me and Kiki were just leaving, we can take you...” “I’m fine,” Darius’s voice cracked in a way that was decidedly not fine. Before either of them could say anything more, Darius started walking away, as fast as he could without it turning into a run. Looked like he was walking all the way home. Again. Idiot. By the time he made it back, his legs were sore, it was getting dark, and Caleb still wasn’t home. He unlocked the door to their apartment and considered not even bothering turning the lights on, but why suffer in the dark? The apartment was messier than he’d remembered when they left that morning. There wasn’t much to look at to begin with, so it made every little thing that was out of place stand out more. It was for the best; cleaning helped him think. He started in the kitchen, the monotone colors on the counters and linoleum floor matched his mood as he got to work washing the dishes and heating up leftovers for dinner. He moved on to the living room, making sure that the bookshelf was arranged in alphabetical order by author, the television was dusted, and the couch was vacuumed of any and all food crumbs. What next? He already knew his room was the cleanest in the apartment, but he also knew Caleb would know, and promptly flip out, if he so much as touched anything in his room. Same with their respective bathrooms. Darius sighed, and slumped down onto the couch. He needed something to keep himself busy. Something to keep him from thinking about… He already felt the tears coming on. He’d known about Lawrence’s relationship with Kikyo, so why was he still acting so disappointed? Probably because it was the first time that he’d felt so strongly towards someone since Tye. The moment the name entered his thoughts, he winced. He pushed it away. He resigned himself to turning on his laptop, booting up the game he’d been trying to beat for weeks, and losing himself in the moment as the minutes ticked by. He ignored the sound of his phone’s insistent ringing, no matter how many times it went off. Eventually, the front door opened, startling Darius as he was taken out of his zone. Caleb walked in. As he closed the door behind him, his eyes met Darius’s, and they lit up with anger. “Why haven’t you been answering me?” he asked. “I’ve been trying to call you for an hour! LV told me you walked home by yourself. You know how worried I was?” Darius knew the question was obviously rhetorical, so he didn’t bother answering it. Though, he did open his mouth to defend himself. “I’m not a kid. I know my way home.” “That’s not my point! Why didn’t you just ride with him? I would’ve thought you’d jump at the opportunity to spend a car ride getting all giggly around LV.” Darius moved his laptop beside him on the couch and curled his knees up against his chin. He stared ahead and couldn’t help the pathetic pout on his lips. He didn’t spare a glance at Caleb as his brother sighed and sat down next to him. “I know that look. What happened?” Caleb asked. “Kikyo,” Darius mumbled. “Oh,” he paused. “I’m sorry, D. You never had a problem with Kiki before.” “It’s not her,” he said, quickly. “Well, it is. But, not for the reason you think. I don’t mind that her and Lawrence are together, that’s their business. I hate that I…” “…That you have feelings for him too?” “That I think I might…have feelings for…both of them?” Darius screwed his eyes shut as he waited for a response from Caleb. His anxiety grew the longer the silence between them stretched. “Why don’t you tell them?” Caleb finally said. Darius’s eyes opened wide with shock. “I can’t just-! That would be-!” he sputtered as he blushed. “H-how would I even go about that? What would I say?” “’Want a threes-“ “I’m not saying that.” Caleb chuckled. “Okay, fine.” “I’m being serious!” Darius said, as he glared over at his twin. “I know you are,” he said, a more thoughtful tone in his voice. “And so am I. You know LV. Just explain how you feel, and at worst, he says no and you share a brief awkward moment where you just confessed to wanting a poly relationship between you, him and his girlfriend.” “Worst case scenario he’s disgusted and offended, and thinks I’m a pervert, and never wants to talk to me again, and-“ Darius groaned, frustration and sadness in his eyes as he sulked. “Trust me, LV wouldn’t do that. He likes you! And if I’m reading the signs correctly, and I always do, he has it bad for you too. Maybe he’d be more open to becoming a trio than you think.” Darius found himself blushing again. He looked down at his phone for the first time. There were missed calls from Caleb, yes, but also a few from Lawrence. He had been worried about him. Of course, after Darius had a complete mood change at the café, how couldn’t he have been? Just the thought of talking to him again after that embarrassing display made Darius’s stomach turn with fear. He looked over at Caleb, who just nodded back at him. Darius took a deep breath, held it, let it out, and pressed call. It didn’t take long before he picked up. “D? What’s up with you?” Darius had never heard such concern in Lawrence’s voice before. It made it hard to breathe. In an oddly good way. “Hey, Lawrence.” He had no idea where to go from here, so he went with, “I have something to tell you.”        

[eddiefuckingtozier]

Cup of Joy

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah to everyone! I loved writing this and am honored to have been a part of the IT SECRET SANTA 2017! Thank you to all the people who supported me and made me believe that I could write something that others would like. I am so thankful to all my new friends that I made through this fandom and for all the relationships that I will make in the future. Happy Holidays and may 2018 be a year of love and joy!

This is dedicated to @djisprobablydead​ who also joined the festivities, so really I have them to thank for me writing this!

Cold.

That’s all Bill could think as he walked down the sidewalk to his favorite coffee shop, in need of the biggest, warmest cup of coffee he could order. If the parking situation hadn’t been so desolate, he would’ve been able to just walk right in, rather than park three blocks away and have to walk for about fifteen minutes in the snow.

At least I get to look at all the pretty decorations on my way.

Bill loved Christmas. No. He absolutely adored it. He thought it was the best holiday to ever be celebrated. He didn’t even get this excited about his birthday. He just loved the idea of everyone being together, surrounded by lights and food and the spirit of giving.

He was thinking about just how good a holiday that was when something made him stop in his tracks.

The utter lack of christmas decorations at his favorite coffee shop.

Granted it was only the third of December, but to be honest, Bill started decorating the day after Halloween, much to his friend’s and family’s dismay. Sue him if he wanted to get into the mood a little early. But what was so jarring, was the fact that he never would have guessed this from a place he frequents almost four times a week. He even knew the owner by this point. And he knew all the workers’ names and some of their backgrounds, so he assumed that they would be the kind to want to celebrate a happy holiday like this.

He might have not known them as well as he thought he did.

As he finally entered the warm cafe (adorably deemed Cup of Joy), he was greeted from behind the counter with the sight of his favorite barista, Stanley.

Stanley was almost as good as Christmas if Bill was being honest with himself. Stanley had been around since Bill had started coming here, almost two years ago. Bill doesn’t like to admit it, but Stanley is mostly the reason he kept coming back after the first time. The coffee is good - better than most places in the area - but Bill came back for the conversation with the curly haired, mild mannered boy whose coworkers called him, Stan.

He liked Stanley better.

“Hey, Bill”, Stanley greeted, flashing a wide, beautiful smile and effectively pulling Bill out of his daydreaming. If Bill was a little red in the face, he would blame it on the cold outside.

“Hi, S-Stanley. Not many p-people today, huh?”, Bill asked, looking around behind him in the restaurant, noticing the obvious lack of people sitting and talking. “Not until you, Billy Boy”, Stanley said with a smirk. Bill dropped his head at the nickname, not wishing for Stanley to see his cheeks become even redder, not to mention the smile that was currently sitting across his entire face.

“Will it be the usual then? I definitely know how to make other things, you know. I didn’t go through three months of training for nothing.”

“I-I know. I c-c-can’t help it. I just like w-what I like”, Bill said, making eye contact with Stanley on the last sentence.

Unintentionally of course.

“Well then let me get you what you like”, Stanley said, turning away to make Bill’s order, not before sending a wink in his direction. Bill tried to grab his wallet out of his pocket, but Stanley stopped him before he could even stick his hand in. “This one’s on the house today. You look like you need it.” Bill blushed again and muttered a quiet thank you, and moved to the end of the counter to wait for his drink.

See, Stanley had the same attitude towards Bill. He had started seeing him come in about two years ago and ever since then, Bill was his favorite part - well parts - of the week. He had the biggest smile whenever he came in, always wanted to make conversation, and had the cutest stutter that Stanley had ever heard. He would hope everyday that Bill would come into the shop, and on the days that he didn’t, Stanley usually went home very sad and deflated. And on the days that Bill did grace him with presence? Well, Stanley would like to think he played it cool, acting like Bill’s appearances in the cafe made him feel like any other customer was talking to him. But sometimes he thought he was being a little obvious.

Obviously not.

Bill hadn’t tried to make even one move on Stanley in the two years that he had been coming in. Maybe Stanley should be the one to make the first move, but he honestly was so afraid of being rejected, it made him keep his mouth shut every time. This time was no different.

Stanley watched as Bill moved to the end of the counter, and while his coffee was brewing, Stanley could not keep his eyes of him. He was just so pretty - bundled up in god knows how many layers of clothes, with a little red nose, and mittens to match the ensemble. Stanley was smitten.

Stanley took the finished cup to the end of the counter and held it out in front of Bill. “Here you go. Just how you like it”, Stanley said, extending his arm towards Bill for him to take his drink. “Th-Thank you”, Bill said, taking his drink in his hand, sliding his fingers against Stanley’s in the process. Bill laughed a little to himself, “Isn’t it c-crazy that I come here s-so often that you remember m-m-my usual?”

“I don’t mind. Means I get to see your pretty face more often s’all.” Stanley almost passed out in shock from what he just let leave his mouth. He was even more surprised by what he heard back.

“You think I-I’m p-p-pretty?”

Stanley was the one who had the stutter all of a sudden. “U-Um y-yeah I mean uh, yeah I th-think you’re c-cute…”

“Well that’s v-very good to know, St-Stanley”, Bill said taking his cup and walking towards the door. He was almost there when something stopped him. He turned back around to Stanley and asked, “Why d-do you guys not have any d-decorations up? I mean I know it’s early b-b-but you guys look k-kind of sad without them,” Bill said with a chuckle, not wanting to sound rude.

“I’m Jewish, Bill. The others are really nice and agreed to have it pretty neutral around the holidays so I didn’t feel left out. Hence, nothing at all unfortunately. I know how much you love it.”

Bill hummed, leaving the shop with a smile. He had an idea, but he needed some help to do it.

Bill came in a few more times in the following week, but he was pretty busy getting ready for his surprise. He had actually been thinking for a few weeks how he was going to say something to Stanley. He didn’t think “Hey. I like your coffee, but I think you’re sweeter”, would go over very well, so he had come up with a plan to show him just how much he liked him. When Stanley had told him he was Jewish so the cafe didn’t hang up anything for the holidays, it really got under Bill’s skin. His coworkers couldn’t hang both sets of decorations? They couldn’t hang green and red and blue and white? He just didn’t think it was fair. He saw where it was coming from, but he didn’t think this was just a one year event. Depending on how long Stanley had worked here, he might have never been able to celebrate for real.

Bill went to the shop one day, after calling to make sure Stanley wasn’t working. He didn’t want to get sidetracked talking to Stanley and completely forget what he was there to do. So he walked in and went straight to the counter, seeing a worker that had been there for a while, but Bill had never really interacted with.

“H-Hi. I was wondering if I could t-talk to the o-owner? It’s about St-Stanley?”

“Yeah sure thing. She’s actually in today. I’ll go get her”, a guy named Josh - according to the name tag - said, looking Bill up and down.

It took about thirty seconds of waiting by the counter for the girl to show up, looking like she already knew it would be Bill standing in front of her when she emerged.

“So, Bill is it? I’m Beverly. You had a question about Stanley? Well, I can assure you right now that he’s single and interested. He won’t talk about anything else to any of us. He's always blabbing on about ‘Bill is so cute’ and ‘Bill came in today wearing the cutest sweater-’”

“O-Oh no! I was actually going to ask about something else”, Bill said clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck, absolutely mortified that he was apparently talked about behind his back.

Alright. Not really mortified. More like relieved and ecstatic.

“I was actually w-wondering if I c-could do something special for him that involves the c-cafe? I h-h-heard that the reason you g-guys don’t decorate is to make sure he d-doesn’t get his feelings hurt, and I think that’s g-g-great and all, but I would also like this to s-serve as like a um, a w-way to uh-”

“A way to tell him you’re in love with him just as much as he’s in love with you? Yeah I think we can make something happen”, Beverly finished with a glint in her eye. “What did you have in mind?”

Stanley walked in to his shift a couple days later, tired and not wanting to deal with anyone except one person. He was really hoping he was going to be visited by Bill today, because he knew that if he saw him, his day would instantly be better.

What he walked into was not what he was expecting.

When he opened the door, he was greeted with a slew of blue and white garland hanging from the ceiling of the cafe, vases painted with beautiful blue designs holding twigs with hanging with tiny plastic menorahs and stars on every table, candles lined up on the top of the counter, and the chalkboards were decorated with designs and cartoon dreidels.There were beautiful blue and white icicle lights everywhere, letting the cafe be cast in a gentle blue glow. Stanley couldn’t believe anything he was seeing.

Beverly emerged from the back, wiping her hands on a towel, looking up and addressing Stanley with a “Good Morning!”

“Bev? What the hell is all of this?”

Beverly stepped to the side of the door frame, allowing someone to step out beside her, someone who took the air out of Stanley’s lungs.

“Bill? What are you doing here? Why are you in the back? We’re not even open yet.”

“Happy Hanukkah, Stanley”, was all Bill said, walking over to Stanley. It took Stanley a second to put the pieces together, but when he did, he couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. Or the tears from forming in his eyes.

“Oh Stanley, p-please don’t cry. If you d-don’t like it, we can t-take it all down. I-I’m sorry”, Bill said, pulling Stanley into a hug, instantly regretting his idea and wishing he never got out of bed that morning.

“What?”, Stanley asked through teary eyes, pulling away from Bill a bit to speak, “I don’t hate it Bill! No one has ever thought to do something this nice for me. Thank you. I love it. I love it so much. I love-”, Stanley cut himself off.

“You wh-what, Stanley?”

“I love you, Bill. I think I’ve loved you since the day you walked into the shop. I’m so thankful that you did this for me, I couldn’t have asked for a better holiday. Thank you. It’s all perfect. A-And if you don’t feel the same, I completely understand. If you don’t wanna come here anymore I completely understand”, Stanley said all in breath, not ready to hear what Bill had to say.

“Stanley. You of all p-people should know, I like what I like, and what I like, is you. It’s been you from the s-second you made me that first drink. I’m really g-glad that I could do this for you and that it m-made you so happy.”

“Me too, Billy. I actually kind of wish I celebrated Christmas. Then we would have some mistletoe to stand under.”

“Stanley, I don’t think we need mistletoe”, Bill said, leaning in closer to Stanley and closing his eyes. Stanley met his lips, kissing him gently, letting Bill know how happy he was in that moment. They pulled away and looked into each other’s eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Bill.”

“Happy Hanukkah, Stanley.”