#more maths than the word 'chemistry' implies

[bahoreal]

the FLASHBACKS i had to my atmospheric chemistry courses kdbsshsb god. i can tell you the albedo, aliens. wait hold on im curious

[alchiimia]

@experimentalfma

Rocket.

A vehicle that uses jet propulsion to accelerate without using the surrounding air. 

It was ironic, maybe even a bit laughable, that someone who'd seen chimeras, giant walking statues, stones in the color of blood made from human souls... that it was something as common as this throwing Edward's mind into shock and awe. Or, well - common in this world, anyway. A world not bond to the law of equivalent exchange, a world where Science reigned supreme and Alchemy was lost to the dark medieval times. His world, now. For the good and for the bad.

But, yes, rockets. Damn interesting things. Ed was by far a man of chemistry, rather than physics and math, yet learning about these equations was entertaining nonetheless; he'd always loved learning new things. The little mountain of books currently piled up beside him spoke for itself. He'd been in the library all morning, reading and learning and indulging into the perfect escapism while ignoring everything else wrong in his life - hours passing by and barely moving, save for the turning of pages and the occasional shuffling into a slightly different sitting position. That was, until he actually ran out of books in the mini-mountain.

And that's when God saw fit to remind him that, even by the other side of the Gate, he was still accountable for his sins and must repent.

Because, of course - the one book Ed now really wanted was out of reach; peeking down at him from the very top of the shelf. Downright mocking him with its shiny cover and rich colors. Come and read me if you can, I'm so interesting!, Ed could practically hear the siren's call. And what was Edward Elric once Fullmetal Alchemist if not stubborn and resilient? Taking the chair he’d been sitting on, he brought it closer and climbed on top and - there! Problem solved. Or, almost... for, in the end, he did not grab the thing all the same. Suddenly distracted by the very characteristic sensation of being stared at.

"What? Never seen someone who can’t reach the top shelf?"

A short person, in other words, but it would take far more than being stuck in a foreign, alternate universe for Ed to admit it out loud. And, yes, maybe he was being grumpy. Maybe the stranger, whoever they were, didn't even mean to stare and was simply also searching for a book in that same shelf. Maybe it was just Ed's paranoia kicking in, because the past had taught him over and over again that being stared at usually implied having to prepare for a battle. Either way, when glancing over his shoulder with a scowl and ready to shoo the person away, what Edward found was-

...A ghost.

Past and future mashed together, and no single explanation given. 

His gold-colored eyes widened and suddenly it was Ed staring, staring hard and helplessly, color draining from his features and every ounce of strength momentarily leaving his body.

"....Al...?" 

But could it be…? His beloved Alphonse, returned to flesh body and somehow here in this world…? give him back, he’s my little brother, he’s everything i have, you can even take my heart Ed's hand that had been left hanging absently found the book, then, but a different one and far heavier. And that, along with the discharge of entropy suddenly taking over his mind, the sudden screeching of his memories plunging all over again into that dreadful night, could really only have one outcome: Ed losing his balance and toppling right off the chair with a quiet gasp. And not only did he meet the library floor right on his butt and in a very undignified manner but, right after, that same volume came to drop on his head.

And, somewhere in the Gate, Truth was probably laughing hysterically.

[captainshadowgirllostfan]

Man my heart really goes out for Billy...

I went back to watching Young Sheldon’s recent episode to see Missy and Mandy bond, but wound up appreciating and loving Billy and Sheldon’s friendship instead. I was afraid that it would have Sheldon bashing Billy and being a complete and utter ass as he tends to be when it comes to people with a lower IQ than him.

But instead in his role as teacher, he was patient and even nice to Billy, withholding any smart ass remarks and just working with how Billy thinks and it was fucking amazing to watch, while I was also amused by Billy’s silly remarks and connections he made when it came to math and his own life. That boy is just so silly.

It was a really great episode. The last remark about how Billy finally did pass the 6th grade but stayed in 7th for several years kind of ruined it for me...it implied that Billy never got the help he needed, and the biggest help he got was Sheldon which in some ways might make sense, I mean to me. Both of them seem to be coming from the autism spectrum though Sheldon is obviously from the higher end...what’s more it also showcased that Billy may not be all that dumb at all but rather he think very differently, literally. It’s likely the reason he fails is due to people around him not understanding him. While Sheldon does seem to think Billy is well stupid, he does take everything Billy say seriously whereas many others seem to dismiss everything Billy says. And what do you know, Billy actually outsmarts...in a way...Sheldon in this episode by posing the question of zero’s actual existence. I absolutely loved this show you have no idea!

For a moment, I thought the only reason I’d be watching Young Sheldon would be for the rest of the family, that Sheldon himself had come to be the worst thing about this show.

But this week’s episode proved me wrong. Sheldon truly is the best thing when the writers write him as endearing as he was in S1-3 of Big Bang and at times throughout the show... I think what makes Sheldon shine is when he is interacting with people who different to him and make him see things in different perspectives. This is probably why he was a whatdoyoucallit? Break-out character? 

The main protagonist of Big Bang Theory was Leonard. I will always stand by that, but Sheldon ended up outshining him because of how quirky, odd and unique he was, and how that melded well with the rest of the cast. All of his interactions with the cast had chemistry and were entertaining to say the least because of how unique his personality was and how it clashed and battled, or melded and worked with the others.

That being said, this is probably why his interaction with Billy was the best. Billy is from the other side of the spectrum so seeing two people who are so different and yet alike interact along with the intellectual philosophy melded in was just wonderful. It was also great to see Linkletter and Sturgis being put in along the ride, how they took Sheldon’s word that zero didn’t exist and tried to disprove it only to wound up nauseous realizing he was right. I absolutely loved this episode!

[hajimeiwaswife]

LOST IN TRANSLATION

Summary: When Peter Parker asks for your translation services he didn't expect to find love again.

Warnings: NWH SPOILERS, fluff.

Word count: 6,8K

Chinese translation by @1kafenova : https://fakenova.lofter.com/post/1cec36b5_2b456d4c3

A/N: Happy new year! I hope you guys had a great time and that you like my little present for the new year. Feedback is highly appreciated!

You've always been bad at maths, let alone science in general, it just wasn't appealing to you. But languages, literature, history, art, philosophy... You saw beauty in everything that implied humanities, that needed of interpretation, that wasn't exact, that could be moulded by the hands of a simple human or by a community of speakers. Maybe that was the reason why something as exact as maths was so difficult to understand for you.

Not only that, but you were unable to get why someone would choose science on their own will. That was Peter Parker, a man you had shared a couple of common subjects at high school when you were still teenagers. Such an intelligent and humble man, always with his camera in hand, a book of chemistry under his arm. And let's not forget, handsome. For some reason, your friends would repeat over and over again what a bad taste in men you had, how Peter wasn't part of the beauty canons. For you he was, not only that, but his quirky mannerisms and his awkwardness made him even more attractive, especially when he thought no one was looking at him and rode his skate with expertise.

That same little crush you had back then was coming back to you when he sat at the chair in front of your desk, doe brown eyes smiling with recognition when he gazed at you for the first time in years. He looked different, of course his physical appearance had turned to a manly one, a sharper jaw, rougher expression, a cute stubble, wider shoulders, the noticeable veins in his hands... His eyes. You could see it. Last time you had looked at them they were filled with grief, regret and pain; now, they looked more matured, as if he had healed, genuine will to live to his best, to be happy. What could have happened in those seven years you hadn't coincided with the other? You were curious, more than you should, but it was Peter Parker we were talking about, a mysterious man himself ever since high school.

However, his cover of older man with a hold on his life was broken the moment he started fidgeting, uncovering those same mannerisms you had observed so long ago. You smiled internally, there was a little bit of him inside still. You coughed when he looked up and caught you staring at him so intensely, earning a cocky grin from him, one that could be mistaken by innocence. You knew better, though.

"So, you want me to be the one to translate your new discovery." you affirmed after he finished explaining his commission.

"Yes, that's uh, that would sum it up." he replied, still fidgeting and a nervous grin on his face.

"Okay, deadline?"

"Oh! True, uh..." he bit his lip in thought, pushing his glasses into place once again "When... when do you think you can have it?"

"Let's see..." you looked over at the document in your screen, a seventy pages paper about things you didn't understand, it was going to be a difficult task, but not impossible "I can have it in three weeks, is it okay? Or do you need it sooner?"

Peter went back to his thoughts, a slight sigh scaping his mouth while his fingers touched his bottom lip. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke again "Three weeks it's fine." he affirmed, nodding mildly "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, it's my job!" you smiled while creating the quote "And how's life going?" you asked while adding the corresponding taxes to the bill. Thank lord calculators were a thing.

"Um, great! Actually great, it's been... calm? I would say." he was lying, his tone had betrayed him on 'calm', but who were you to call him out "What about you?"

"Normal," you replied sincerely "working, going out with friends, the usual."

Peter nodded, smiling. He observed around the office, many diplomas hanging from the walls, making him wonder why in school they never paid as much attention to humanities as they did to science. It was clear as water that you were the best on your field, he could even tell from the professionalism that surrounded your aura.

Meanwhile, you read the title of his paper. You didn't know what it meant, nor what it was about; however, you knew it was important and a very respectable discovery. It didn't take you by surprise, though, Peter had always been a genius.

"Well," you spoke again, taking the quote you just printed from the printer "as it is a scientific document, I should charge per word," you started explaining "but as I charge 0,07$ per word, it would be 2,450$." you said, still looking at the quote "However, as we are acquaintances and your paper has seventy pages, I'm going to do an exception here and charge it as a literary work, so it will be charge per page. That makes it 15$ per page, what leaves a total of 1,050$."

"Y/n, wait, you don't need to..."

"I know, but consider it a favour from an old school mate." you winked at him, passing him the quote "What do you think? Any complains?"

"No, of course not! You just... You just saved me 1,400$." he murmured, observing the piece of paper you just handed him.

"Okay then, so if you agree, I shall start my work." you smiled, seeing how grateful he looked.

"I promise I'll make it up to you, thank you so much, Y/n." he sounded serious, you knew he was, Peter Parker was a man of his word.

"A coffee sounds nice, but you should invite me in three weeks." you replied playfully, trying your luck on the handsome man.

"Deal." he smiled.

It was late, but you needed to invest extra hours in Peter's commission. You had three dictionaries opened and a couple of scientific magazines to look up for information you could need. Once you had everything you needed, you started reading the document with more care.

"The multiverse." you read the title, furrowing your brows. Had he discovered other universes? He said it was his new discovering, wasn't it?

You continued reading the paper, not understanding absolutely anything except for the parts where he claimed there were different versions of ourselves out there in a parallel universe. The explanation was probably among the technical language you were oblivious about, but at the end of the day, your job was to transmit perfectly what he said, so you translated it searching for parallel texts to see if what you were writing made sense.

It continued like that for the next two weeks and a half, where you ended completely exhausted. Again, you understood nothing, but you were curious about the scientific explanation of how he knew there were other Peter Parkers out there. Maybe you could ask him when he came to the revision of the translation and, if you were lucky, that private physics class could happen in a cafe. Would he be able to explain it for someone that knows nothing about physics? You hoped so.

The next few days were only about your own revision of the translation, trying to verify it was understandable... to whoever understood these matters. You were happy with your work and you expected for Peter to be happy about it, too. Scientific translations were difficult, so having managed a seventy pages translation about a physics discovery was something to be proud of.

You prepared everything: the format, the bill, the little gift for the client for asking for your services. Another day at the office, waiting for Peter Parker to come in at any second after 11 a.m. You continued working on other commissions, asking yourself if you got it wrong and you weren't meeting today. It wouldn't be the first day, thinking it to be Thursday and turning out to be Wednesday. He had asked for a physical copy apart from the digital one, and it was laying at your right, desperate for its owner to pick it up.

At 11:30 a.m. Peter Parker made an appearance, looking dishevelled, all sweaty and out of breath. He looked at you with guilt and lifted up a hand in symbol of asking for forgiveness while he recovered. You stood up, concerned, wondering what could had happened to him.

"I'-I'm sorry." he mumbled once his breathing evened out "I over... slept, yeah."

Lying again "It's okay," you answered with a kind smile "have a sit, please. There are a couple of things I want to discuss with you."

He did as tell, sitting in the same chair he did three weeks ago, his breathing still a little work up. You watched as a drop of sweat passed his temple and flowed down his cheek to his sharpened jaw. He was too attractive for his own good, biting his lip at the same time he took the printed document from your hands, fingers touching and lingering for a second.

He smiled slightly, a kind one, and opened the bind document even if he couldn't understand the language. He was impressed for the way you had improved the format, leaving it even more sophisticated and professional.

"It looks nice." he said, fingers passing through the margins.

"Thank you," you replied, returning his smile "and I assure you the translation is accurate and it will please its target."

"I don't doubt it."

"Though," you started again, intertwining your own fingers and putting your hands on the table "I have a few questions about... the multiverse."

Peter nodded, waiting for you to continue, eyebrows arched in curiosity and head slightly tilted to the right.

"I didn't understand the technical part, but for what I could get, your discovery says that there actually are parallel universes, with realities where there are some kind of... us? But that aren't ourselves... The more I hear myself the more I realize I haven't understood anything." you finished, head hung low and a sigh of exasperation coming out of your mouth.

"No, no! That's part of it, you were right!" Peter exclaimed, straightening in his sit and bending a little bit forward "There are people in other realities with our names and similar lives, but they aren't us."

"And... how have you discovered it? What's the explanation?"

The man chuckled, moved by your genuine curiosity and your doe eyes, looking at him the same way a kid looks at their parents when giving them the answer to their question. He considered how he would explain it to you, he couldn't tell you the exact truth, and definitely he needed to find a speech you could understand from your no scientific perspective.

He bit his lip again, thinking, while you stared at him waiting patiently for his reply. This discovery was going to be if not the most, one of the most important of the century, and you wanted to hear it explained from the genius himself.

"This is gonna take a while," started Peter, looking up at you with a side grin "so, maybe, we could go out and I could explain it to you, then."

You blinked once, twice, and then processed the information. The Peter Parker had just asked you out. He was offering you to hang out away from the working atmosphere, something a little bit more intimate. His fidgeting intensified when you didn't answer, observing how your face changed its expression from one of professional kindness, to confusion to, finally, embarrassed happiness.

"Yeah, yeah, I would love that." you nodded, smiling widely at the man in front of you.

"Great!" Peter nearly shouted, a blush forming on his cheeks "T-that's great, perfect, indeed. Uh, is it okay on Saturday afternoon?"

"Yes, perfect for me." you answered.

There was an awkward silence between you both, not knowing what to say next. You probably should ask him for his number, but at the same time it was needed to finish with the translation explanation.

Like that, somehow you redirected the conversation to translation doubts you had and how you resolved them, having him confirming that what you understood of those fragments was right. You also gave him the bill, sent him by email the digital format and gifted him the quill with your logo.

"Thank you so much, Y/n, I'm really happy I ran into you." he said while standing up, walking towards the door "Couldn't ask for a better translator." he smiled.

"It was my pleasure, I'm glad you considered me for this." you also stood up, accompanying him to the door and stopping him from exiting "Uh, I wanted to... well, as we are going out on Saturday maybe, it would be nice to..."

Peter thought it was amusing how you changed in demeanour when you were in your professional, hard-working translator you and when you were just... you. Shy and nervous, the same as him "... have my number?" he finished for you and you nodded, ashamed for being unable to ask for it yourself "Here."

Peter lent you a card with his name, number and email. You smiled, taking it and observing it a bit. Then, you bid goodbye and the both of you returned to your own business until Saturday.

When you arrived home and watched the news, they announced Spiderman had stopped two bank robberies that morning. 'He deserves a salary for this', you thought.

"So you found imprints of a collision between two universes!? That's so cool!" you exclaimed, hot coffee on the table and a very handsome scientist in front of you.

"Uh-hu," he affirmed, sipping his own coffee "we can say there are at least four imprints of four different universes, but there must be hundreds, if not millions of them."

It was Saturday and you both had agreed to meet at a cafe near your work place at 4 p.m. As promised, Peter explained his discovery to you in a way you could understand, finding fascinating his work and his ability with physics.

"You are amazing, Peter Parker." you mumbled, completely absorbed by his voice and explanation.

The man could feel his cheeks warming and the feeling of dejà vu in the front of his mind, one of the other Peters always told him those exact words, but hearing them from you was different. When the other Peter said them, it felt like he himself was assuring him, in this case, it was you, someone external to the adventures of the Parkers.

"It-It's nothing! Really, it was easy." he stuttered, wrinkling his nose.

"Don't be humble, Peter, you worked hard for this!"

He nodded, biting his lip again. You had noticed it was something he did whenever he needed to think for long, and you weren't going to lie, it was hot. He looked up and caught you staring at him again, the same sly grin he made in your office almost four weeks ago returning to his face.

"And now, thanks to you, my discovery will be accessible for a wider public." he grinned, wetting his lips and sipping on his coffee again. "And how is it you turned out to be a translator?"

You shrugged your shoulders "I love languages, I always did, and this degree allowed me to work with them and with literature, my two passions. Why?"

"Just curious." he also shrugged his shoulders "I must admit, it was clear you weren't going to pick a science degree."

"Oh?" you said, amused "And why were you so sure?"

"I had maths class with you."

You both chuckled, you hadn't been the best at the subject, and he probably had seen your failed attempts at improving on it. Pathetic ones, must be said.

"I remember that one time you were so convinced you had the exercise right and I told you you had missed a negative sign." the man laughed, adoring the embarrassed expression on your face.

"Ugh, don't remind me." you took a peek at him from in between your fingers, which were covering your face "Luckily, it wasn't mandatory on the last two years."

"And you still ask me how I was so sure." he snorted, gaining a fake slap to his bicep from your part.

Another moment of silence between you became present, but it wasn't awkward, reminding each other of high school wasn't as awful as it sounded, at the end of the day. You fidgeted and coughed a little, trying to find something to say.

"I was sure you would do something with science. What? I didn't know, but you looked like the most dedicated little molecule."

"Little molecule?" he snorted again, looking at you with amusement.

"That's how we called you guys!" you laughed, repositioning yourself on the chair "In humanities we would call you that."

"And I'm just hearing about this now? How lame." he shook his head, feigning indignation "Why little molecule? Why not just molecule?"

"It was cuter."

Both of you stood there for hours, talking and catching up. You couldn't remember when you had laughed that much and neither did he, appreciating the time he spent with you that afternoon.

"You live here?" he asked once you stopped in front of a building.

"Yep." he had offered to accompany you home "Do you want to come in?"

"Maybe another day, I have something to do now." he replied, smiling at you and talking sincerely, he wasn't lying this time "But we should repeat this. If you want to, of course! J-just if you want to."

"I'm on board." both of you bid goodnight after that. You relaxed at home, he put on his Spiderman suit.

These meetings continued for quite some time, getting to know each other more and to befriend. Peter was a great man, intelligent, funny, kind, a gentleman and a teaser, the type of man any person would like to have by their side. You wondered if he had been developing feelings for you the same way you did with him, daydreaming about an unlikely future where you were together.

Your daily commute was the same, exiting your house, walking for ten minutes and arriving to your office. It shouldn't be complicated, just a mere walk, the most interesting thing that could happen in New York should be the snow. But no, it wasn't snow what stopped you from arriving to your workplace; it was a villain.

A huge wolf like creature was rummaging in every building it saw, breaking windows, pushing citizens, smashing the road and the cars... Scared, you ran to where you thought you could be a little bit safer as the way to your workplace was completely destroyed and inaccessible.

Out of nowhere, a red and blue blur appeared swinging from building to building, approaching the villain and putting citizens to safety on the way. Spiderman had come to save the day, and you were grateful that maybe this nightmare could end as soon as possible.

'Really, I just want to make enough money to survive the month and I have to stand a fucking mad wolfman trying to kill us all.' you thought, done with life once again.

Ten minutes of battle, twenty, and it didn't look like it was going to end soon. You still stood in the place you had found a haven in, watching from afar how Spiderman fought the villain, swinging from side to side, throwing punches and webs to the wolf. On one moment, the villain was throwed flying to the roof of the building you were next to. You heard a little cracking, then, a huge shadow overcame you and, when you looked up, a giant advertisement poster was falling in your direction.

It was true what they said about seeing your life pass while you're waiting for death. You were still young and you were going to die because of a stupid poster, how pathetic. You closed your eyes, expecting the impact that would kill you in situ. But then, you heard a heart-breaking 'No!' and you felt a hand grab your waist and your feet leave the ground.

You opened your eyes, confused, and you met face to mask with Spiderman himself, who had saved you just before the poster could crash you to death. You clung to him tight, afraid of falling, even though you doubted he would let you fall.

He swinged you both to the roof of a building far from the battle, not letting go of you once you both touched the ground. You were trembling, processing the last two minutes of your life, and Spiderman was gentle enough to let you some time for it.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a soft voice, a familiar voice you couldn't quite pint point.

"Yeah, yes, thank you." you replied out of breath.

"Good." he let go of you, preparing to swing again to battle "Stay here, I promise I'll come to get you down from here when it's safe to do so."

And then it hit you, you knew that voice all too well.

"Peter?" you asked, eyes wide and mouth hang open.

"What?" the eyes of his suit widened too, and his tone expressed surprise "P-peter? Pff who is Peter? Definitely not me."

You blinked, shocked and eyebrows arched, it was Peter, no doubt about it. His dorky reply was everything you needed to confirm you suspicion.

"I know it's you, you're so bad at lying." the monotone you gave him made his body hair bristle and not because of his spidey-sense "So that's what you've been hiding. Ever since High School... That explains so much."

Peter was horrified, you had discovered his facade and there was no way he could convince you he wasn't Peter Parker. Years of being Spiderman without no one knowing apart from Gwen, and now you found out just because of his voice. He had to give you that, you were smart, really smart.

"I- Look, please, don't panic." he murmured as he took off his mask, revealing his face "Yes, I'm Spiderman, and I've been since the beginning."

"Holly shit." was the only thing you could mumble, still shocked at the information that sweet and dorky Peter Parker was, indeed, the strongest super hero of New York.

"I'll explain everything to you, I promise," he said as he put his mask on again and walked towards the end of the roof "but first let me take that villain out."

You just nodded, dumbfounded, as Peter Parker swinged to battle again and left you there to think about what happened. So he was Spiderman, and for what he said he also was Spiderman when you both were teenagers. So Gwen...

"Oh my God, poor Peter..." you mumbled, it pained you to think that he was there when his first girlfriend died, a very beautiful person she was, you remembered her from some classes, she had always been kind to you.

But then, you thought, that meant that the day you gave him his translation and arrived late he didn't oversleep as he said; he was the one to stop the two robberies! The poor man was living a double life, he didn't even have a peer to share the burden of taking care of the city with.

You were worried, watching him fighting against the wolfman, receiving scratches. But you had you have faith in him, he had been Spiderman for years and you had always admired the hero, so him being Peter Parker shouldn't change anything. But it did, you liked the man and the thought of him being at risk and in danger was driving you mad.

Ten minutes later, the red and blue suit appeared on your line of sight again, approaching you and landing in front of you. He took his mask off, a few scratches visible on his cheeks, a line of blood running down the corner of his mouth, but he still smiled kindly at you. His eyes closed and his teeth showed, giving him the appearance of a kid who had just committed the biggest mischief he could think of. You just shook your head and chuckled, looking at him with bright eyes and a bit of incredibility.

"Are you okay?" you asked, observing his little wounds.

"Yes, nothing I'm not used to by now." he replied, his smile still there "I owe you an explanation."

"I wouldn't say owe... But I do want one." you nodded, biting your bottom lip in amusement.

"Then come with me, it will be better to talk when I'm not dressed in tights and not bleeding." he joked, grabbing your waist and lifting you two in the air.

You wanted to scream, not out of fear, but out of adrenaline. Now that you weren't on the brick of death you took your time to gaze at the city below you, a sight worthy of a painting.

"And that's all." Peter said. You two had swinged to his apartment, where you had helped him with his wounds and he had told you about his double life in detail, omitting the universe travel he would do once in a while.

"Wow." was the only thing you could say, making him chuckle at you. He put his lips in a line and a small smile plastered, looking at you from below; he was breath-taking "Does anyone else know? What about your aunt May?"

"No! No, no one knows, especially not May." he exclaimed, fidgeting again when he heard his aunt's name "I prefer for her to be kept apart from this."

"So to not put her in danger?" you asked and he nodded.

"I wasn't actually gonna tell you just yet, it's very risky." he commented, passing his hands across his hair "But I guess there are no secrets now."

"It seems so. I'm sorry, for discovering you, I mean."

"It's not your fault being smarter than half the population that knows me and hadn't figured out yet."

"It's the mask." you affirmed, and he locked eyes with you, brow arched until you two exploded in laughter at your obvious claim.

"Thanks, never thought of it."

"You're welcome."

You helped him wash his suit while you chatted a little bit, you remembered seeing him on the news a couple days ago, commenting on his discovery.

"Do you know anything else about your discovery? Any news?"

"Actually, they have invited me to a panel in Brussels to talk about it, Europe has liked it a lot." he commented nonchalantly.

"Peter! That's awesome!" you exclaimed, turning to look at him fully "I'm really happy for you! You deserve it."

"Your translation helped a lot, not gonna lie." he said, smiling "Thank you again, they loved it and they are considering nominating me to the Nobel Prize in Physics."

"Oh my Lord, Peter! How long have you known about this?"

"A week." he shrugged, resting his shoulder on the wall while looking at you with a smirk.

"And you haven't told me! Parker, after you pick up the prize, I'm murdering you." you exclaimed, feigning indignation.

"That is, if I win it." Peter replied, biting his bottom lip, thinking about the possibilities of losing it.

"To whom? You literally discovered the multiverse! What could be better than that?"

"I don't know, maybe someone discovers a way to work out without tiring yourself." he shrugged his shoulders again.

"... Yeah, that would be better." he looked at you as if you had just stabbed him, mouth hanging open and betrayal plastered on his face.

"You little traitor..." he murmured, starting to chase after you while you laughed at him, running across the apartment with him just behind you.

You loved your time with Peter because of this type of situations, they were so organic, so natural, they just came with the flow of life, making you feel alive and happy. When he caught you, he hugged you from the back and lifted you, spinning you both around while laughing.

After begging, he put you down, assuring that your feet where on the ground and you were stabilized. You turned around, a wide smile on your face mimicking his, breathing irregular from both running and laughing, his chest going up and down fast, proving he was still catching his breath. He looked gorgeous, eyes bright and soft staring at yours directly. A slight blush prominent on his cheeks, his nose a little wrinkled.

That's when you noticed that his eyes were going from looking at your eyes to your lips and on repeat once and once again. You weren't going to lie, a kiss from him was what you had been wanting for a couple of weeks now, worried that he didn't feel the same about you.

When you noticed his breath on your lips was when you realized he had slightly closed the distance. You locked your gaze with his, eyes close halfway, pupils dilatated, looking at you as if you were the only thing he wanted in that exact moment.

Closing the distance, you took his upper lip between yours, starting the kiss. It was passionate, uncovering the non-spoken feelings both of you had developed. Your hands went to his neck, caressing the hair of his nape, while his hands grabbed your waist and pushed you closer to him. His tongue entered your mouth, taking the little breath you had left away, your mind dizzy and your nose filled of his perfume. Noses touching, lips and tongue showing the love you hadn't been able to talk about before.

When you separated, your foreheads touched, eyes still close and breathing completely uncontrolled. You took a moment to process the kiss, to feel his body against yours, to soak yourself in his being, wanting nothing more than open your eyes to look at him.

So you did, and the sight made your knees weak. He had, again, his eyes close halfway looking at you in the purest and softest way anyone had ever looked at you like, a little smirk in his lips, giving you a little peck.

"I guess this means you like me, too." whispered Peter, bumping his nose with yours.

"Absolutely." you answered, bringing his lips closer to yours to kiss him again.

Walking to the office had never been easy. Peter hadn't stayed the night, so you had woken up alone to another horrible Monday. But, today had been different, your apartment looked dissimilar, posters that should be there weren't, and ones you had never seen where hung in your walls. The distribution of the kitchen also was strange, and the sofa on your living room had a different colour.

You couldn't understand anything, there was no explanation for it, and when you walked outside everything seemed... odd. It wasn't easy to explain, but the atmosphere was bizarre, not the typical New York air you usually breath.

The stores you usually see on your way to work weren't there at all, now they had different names and sold the opposite of what they should. You furrowed your eyes, what could be happening?

Everything turned to dust when you arrived at your workplace. Where offices should be, now laid a cinema. You were confused, were you dreaming? Was this a massive joke no one had told you about? Were they recording a new film and this was the set?

You looked around, no one seemed faced by the changes you were noticing, continuing their lives as if nothing was wrong. You decided to walk around the walk and see if, indeed, it was a cinema set and your office was just behind. It wasn't. The Cinema building continued on, so there were no possibilities of your working place to be behind.

Maybe you were in the wrong part of the city, so you took your mobile phone and looked in Google Maps. You were in the correct place, though your building was, as it said, inexistent. What was happening?

You wandered around, trying to search for a familiar face, for a familiar place, but this wasn't the New York you knew.

It was then when you saw a red and blue suit swinging around. 'Peter!' you thought, following him as you could, trying to attract his attention. There was no use, he didn't see you, so you continued running and following him with your sight so you didn't lose him.

After touring the whole city until reaching Brooklyn, you stopped to catch your breath. Could Peter know what was happening? Maybe, but at least he was a familiar face and you would feel safe with him. You continued walking in search of your lover and saw him in the roof of a building.

"Spiderman!" you shouted, hoping for him to hear you "Spiderman!"

The man turned his head in your direction, getting off the roof immediately and approaching you. That was when you noticed his suit was also different, it looked very modern, as if it had technology in it. When did Peter change his suit?

But it was too late to keep thinking, as Spiderman was in front of you "Is everything okay, ma'am? Do you need my help?"

"Peter, thank God I have found you," you started, nearly panicking "my apartment looked different, the stores have changed, my workplace isn't there anymore and... even your suit looks out of place!"

"H-how do you know...?" Spiderman started, narrowing his eyes. You looked at him confused "How do you know my name?"

"What do you mean? We're dating..." then it hit you, his voice was different, not the deep voice of your Peter "Aren't you... Aren't you Peter Parker?"

"What?" the eyes of his suit widened, looking around to see who else was listening "How do you know my name? How do you know who I am? What do you mean we're dating?"

The man was attacking you with questions, leaving you dumbfounded and very confused, an anxiety attack growing in your chest. What was happening?

"So you're Peter Parker..." you claimed, and he just looked at you "But you don't sound like him."

Peter's eyes widened again, as if he had just realized something. He tried to grab your wrist, but you took your hand away and backed away from him, afraid. If he wasn't your Peter, who was he?

"Don't be scare! I know what's happening! Please, come with me." he pleaded, offering his hand to you.

You looked at it and then to his masked face, not sure if you should take it "Who are you?"

"I'm Peter Parker, just not your Peter Parker." he said, confusing you even more. He must had noticed, because he started explaining it briefly "There are different universes, a-"

"Multiverse." you finished for him and he nodded "I know, my boyfriend discovered it."

"So you're related to that Peter." he mumbled for himself. That Peter? "I'm Peter Parker and I'm Spiderman, and the Peter you know is, too, just in your universe."

"My universe? That means I'm not in my universe!?" you exclaimed, starting to panic even more, wanting nothing more than to return to wherever your universe was and to your Peter.

"N-no, it isn't." Spiderman replied, shaking his head and tone soft, almost afraid of you "But don't worry! The Peter you know is here, I can bring you to him!"

You doubted at first, you didn't know anything about him, but you also didn't know anything about the New York you were in. Taking a deep breath, you took his hand, hoping for what he said to be true. Delicately, he grabbed your waist and lifted you with him, swinging around Brooklyn. Even the way he swinged was different.

Not even two minutes later, he helped you enter an apartment through the window. Once your feet touched the ground, you looked around. It was a small living room, with just a coach and a small TV. You could hear voices, male voices, coming from another room. You looked back and Spiderman was closing the window and the curtains before taking off his mask.

"You're a kid!" you exclaimed when you observed his young features, a kind smile on his mouth. So, even in a different universe, Peter Parker was a kind man-kid.

"Hello, I'm Peter Parker." he said, introducing himself formally.

"Y/n L/n." you replied.

"Oh! So you are Peter's girlfriend! Come, he's in that room with the other Peters." he commented, grabbing your wrist again and bringing you with him to the room next to the one you were in.

The first thing you noticed was it looked like a lab, many scientific things you couldn't even name around in tables and moved by two men. One was an older man, probably in his 40s, but with a face that shouted 'cinnamon roll'. The other one was you lover, your Peter.

You stood on the door, dumbfounded again. "So this is how you discovered the multiverse." your Peter looked up at the sound of your voice, eyes widened and approaching you at a fast pace.

"Y/n! What are you doing here?" he asked, hugging you tight.

You let yourself have it, getting drunk on his scent and relaxing in his embrace, your face in the crook of his neck. You hugged him back, grounding yourself a little, recognizing the feeling of his hands on you and his breathing on the top of your head.

You separated a bit, observing his white lab coat and the jersey he had been wearing yesterday at your date. His hair was tousled and his glasses where crooked, but he still looked adorable.

"I-I don't know! I woke up and my apartment wasn't my apartment and Spiderman wasn't you and-" you started rumbling, hands trembling and eyes focused on the ground.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, I'm here now." he mumbled in your hair, pressing you to him again and giving a kiss to your temple "You have travelled across universes, but we'll return home soon, I promise."

"But how have I d-done that? A-and when are we returning home?" you whispered, face pressed to his neck and hugging him as if your life depended on it.

"Probably because of the conditions Dr. Strange have set to his spell-"

"Spell!? Magic exists!?" you exclaimed, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"It does," he chuckled, his right hand caressing your hair with affection and eyes calmed "and that's how you have ended here. I think."

You nodded, too shocked to comprehend anything he was telling you. Magic? As in Harry Potter? And why was a wizard a doctor? You then noticed someone gazing at you, and you saw the other two men looking at you two, lips pressed in a line and swinging from side to side... Just with their feet, nothing too spidey.

Your Peter followed your gaze and smiled, turning to the other two men and bringing you with him, arm around your shoulder and not letting you go, keeping you near him to help you calm down.

"Both of them are Peter Parker," he started and the older man greeted you with a nod of his head and a warm smile "they're me in different realities."

"Hello, Y/n." the older Peter said, waving and moving his fingers "It's nice to meet you, Peter has talked a lot about you."

"Yeah, man! He's whipped." the younger Peter nodded enthusiastically, smiling wide.

"There was no need to say that." Your Peter coughed awkwardly and scratched his neck in nervousness. You just found the interaction wholesome, he really liked you, enough to talk about you to his other 'him'.

"Oh! That reminds me," young Peter started, going to the lab and grabbing a bottle. He then came back to you three "Peter told us you were a translator."

"That's right." you mumbled shyly and Peter squeezed you a bit, encouraging you as if to tell you you were safe with the other two men.

"We need help with this one, we can't understand the language and Google isn't doing a good job translating." he said, lending you the bottle.

"We are trying to help Peter recover his girlfriend and friends." older Peter said, and you looked at your Peter confused.

"It's a long story, I'll tell you when we are home." you nodded and he gave you a peck, letting you go so you could go work and help them understand what that bottle had and what it did.

You followed younger Peter to the lab, turning back to look at your Peter who just gave you an encouraging smile, leaving you at ease.

While you were reading the label and translating it in a notebook young Peter had given you, the other two Peters were looking at you. One with softness and love, the other with pride.

"You found your MJ, amazing Spiderman." older Peter said, patting the other Peter's back with affection.

The other man didn't take his eyes off you, watching you interact with the younger Peter with a small smile, sighing at how beautiful you looked "Yes, at last."

[erenscherub]

series masterlist | chapter two

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫.

chapter summary: you fall back upon the scientific method to guide your investigation of whether your husband has been faithful.

pairing: eren jaeger x fem! reader

warnings: modern! au, angst, mentions of divorce, explicit sex, infidelity/cheating, toxic relationship, nonconsensual filming, voyeurism, implied baby-trapping

word count: 2.1 k

When Winter falls on New Hampshire, you feel a chill settle right down into your bones. There’s gray slush that will probably coat your boots later. The skies are overcast and gloomy. It’s depressing.

Yet, as you trudge towards the building offices with letters on the door designating them as “Smith Law Offices,” there’s a strange sort of assurance that the weather matches your mood. You’re here to see your attorney, Erwin Smith. He’s finished drafting up the divorce petition you’ll be delivering to Eren later.

You’ve always had pretty shit intuition. Whether it was deciding between two answers on a multiple-choice test, the character of a person, if disaster was going to strike that day, or the weather. Relying on your instincts has always screwed you over. While others’ instincts guide them away from danger, so far gut feelings have only resulted in repeating one quarter of organic chemistry, your roommate skipping out on three months worth of rent, getting T-boned by a taxi while waiting at a gas station, and walking to your apartment during a downpour.

Especially as a physician, you couldn’t rely on hunches or place your faith in mystical forces when it came to making decisions regarding patients. And it translated over into your personal life that everyday decision-making was guided by evidence, observation, and if you really had no idea what the hell was going on, then trial and error.

Even if you hated math and science, you were better at dealing with numbers, measures, and facts. You just were clueless when it came to emotions and anything that was more subjective than a formula or calculation.

Yet, you don’t know why you begin to rely on your intuition when it comes to your marriage.

It started a few years back with a pit in your stomach whenever you would visit Eren for lunch and his co-worker would always say hi and introduce herself as his “work wife.” Then the unease continued to bubble over when the all-nighters at the office for an upcoming deadline increased. And then you can’t help it from snowballing to full-blown anxiety when your husband has suddenly picked up a time-consuming hobby that you, your daughter, or even your mutual friends are never invited to. You conclude that you’re still rational when suddenly he’s defensive and hostile about you or Eliza touching his phone.

You’re not sure if you trust your own observations that there’s a weird pattern showing up in Eren’s speech inflections, mannerisms, and new habits. There’s not exactly a concrete scientific method you could follow to prove your hypothesis that your husband is fucking his co-worker. Or a study consisting of a series of randomized clinical trials to determine the cause and effect of which variable most contributes to infidelity and common symptoms that appear in all cases.

But with your brain going haywire from instincts blaring warning bells, flashing caution signs, waving red flags, and lighting two lanterns that a cheater is in your midst, you do what you do best.

Compile the evidence and prove or disprove your hypothesis.

You already have several months' worth of observations that your husband’s behavior has been consistently evasive.

You’ve posed several questions on what projects make him stay so frequently and so late at the office only to receive vague answers or for him to become agitated and hostile.

You hypothesize that there’s actually a little more going on between him and his “work-wife” during the carpools and late nights at the office.

You’ve even done a few tests by dropping by unexpectedly with dinner. Every time — the scent of her perfume is all over him, his shirt is misbuttoned, and the office smells like sweat.

Now all you need to do is form a conclusion backed by evidence.

The discovery of condoms in his work bag alone by itself serves as insufficient evidence.

But backed by the proof that he’s hiding in his phone? Then there’s no way to disprove your hypothesis that your husband is a lying whore-frog and you should have gone for Marcel Galliard all those years ago instead.

There’s no better evidence than the dirty secrets hidden in that phone.

You get an opportunity a few nights later.

He’s snoring peacefully beside you. His phone is lying out there in the open on the nightstand. You wave your hand in front of his face. Tell him that you’re leaving him for Jean. Tell him that you’ve been faking your orgasms and there’s nothing wrong with you prescribing him Viagra. Even play Don’t Fuck With my Love by Ed Sheeran.

Nothing.

Yeah, maybe it’s safe to assume that he’s deep in REM sleep.

Eren’s a simple guy. He’s just always been an open book made for really dumb children.

After being married for so long, you’ve learned to appreciate his transparency and blunt honesty.

So with the new development of a passcode, maybe your intuition wouldn’t have gotten you eaten by a sabertooth tiger millions of years ago. This newfound ability would have been more helpful four years ago when Eren told you the condoms in his wallet were only there for one week and that things would be fine.

His Lock Screen is a picture of your three year old daughter, Eliza, grinning from ear to ear with ice cream smeared all over her face. Cute.

There’s six failed passcode attempts before his iPhone locks for one minute.

You start with birthdays. Your daughter’s? Wrong. His? Wrong.

Oh motherfucker! If his passcode is the mistress’s birthday, then you’re really going to smother this cheating son of a bitch in his sleep.

Oh thank god.

You’re actually happy this time when the device taunts you that once again, the passcode is incorrect.

Three more attempts left. You type in your birthday and anniversary. Both are wrong.

You’re now on your last attempt.

It’s not gonna kill you if the iPhone is disabled for one minute. But Eren might try to if he wakes up to his wife trying to unlock his phone at four in the morning.

It’s a long shot, yet you type in 0913. The month and day of the first time you told him you loved him all those years ago.

The iPhone is now unlocked.

The home screen is a candid picture of you from earlier this year. You’re not sure whether you’re more surprised he even has a photo of you or how you weren’t able to notice him taking that photo. You’re caught with a wide grin because of some dumb joke Jean and Connie are physically acting out.

You’ve never really been that confident about your appearance. It makes you especially thankful that Eliza takes more like her father. Even if she has your (Y/E/C) eyes, she still has enough splotches of his signature sea-green eye color that make her all the more beautiful.

It’s a bad combination to be less than photogenic on top of being fairly introverted unless you’re comfortable with the person or just tired. So you try to wiggle your way out of as many family and friend photos as much as possible, unless they promise it’s for their eyes only.

Your friends and family are always saying that you’re beautiful, and it’s a shame that your pretty face is in so few snapshots. Despite the consistency with the frequency and conviction behind their compliments, it’s just hard to believe them when there’s Annie, Petra, Amanda, Mikasa, Sasha, and Calista around. And you’re just you.

You feel a little guilty that you’re invading your husband’s privacy and there hasn’t been anything incriminating within the first couple minutes of snooping. You go through his Safari, Google Chrome tabs, and search history. There’s not even a page opened for porn. So Eren is not using Ashley Madison.

Then you scroll through all his photos. A couple dozen classic gym rat photos of him shirtless and flaunting his arms and toned abs in the mirror. A few photos of his parents. A few of their family photos. Another few photos of him with his brother Zeke.

Fuck, is there really nothing so far?

You scroll through more photos of him with his arms around Armin and Mikasa. Group photos of those three but with Annie, Sasha, Connie, and Jean. More photos of all of them at Ymir’s and Historia’s wedding a few years back. A picture of Connie holding his son, Cyrus, when he was just born. Photos of you holding Eliza a week and a half later when you had just delivered her. A few videos of Connie doing something dumb.

More videos of Connie, Sasha, and Jean doing stupid shit together just before she moved to New York with Niccolo. Ten more videos of Jean either shit-faced drunk or again doing something stupid that also seems life-threatening and most likely illegal. Despite their love-hate relationship, it looks like Eren will never snitch on Jean. Though he’s not opposed to blackmail.

You groan as you scroll through his camera roll and it’s mostly photos of either your daughter, snapshots of you and her, family photos of the three of you, and his selfies with her of their daddy-daughter outings. The only thing you can get mad about is that he has hundreds upon hundreds of candids of you that seem to be for his eyes only. No proof of the other woman so far.

You then decide to double-check videos. Eliza is the star of most of them, as always. She’s either dancing or singing or playing with Cyrus. He has a couple of videos of you doing a couple of k-pop choreographies with her and also some with Cyrus and Connie. There’s also a few recordings of Jean snoring. A few of you belting out renditions of Never Enough from The Greatest Showman, Demi Lovato’s Tell Me You Love Me, and even Don’t Stop Believing while you were showering.

Ok, Eren. Why the fuck is this so much cuter than expected? Show me the dirt, asshole. Everyone has a few dirty little secrets, so where are yours?

You quickly take that back. You find a few too many videos saved in his favorites where you can hear him breathing heavily and groaning quietly as he’s jacking off in the background to the subject he’s recording. These are the only videos saved on his phone that are longer than 10 minutes. Again, the other woman makes no appearances.

But you might need to talk to him about boundaries and his Peeping Tom tendencies. You skim through the videos and you discover that they’re all of you when you thought you were home alone. You realize all of them have different time stamps and are spread out months apart. Each video always starts with a shot zooming in to get a better close-up of you on your bed, mewling Eren’s name shamelessly and squirming as you touch yourself to the thought of your husband who was supposed to be at work. These were likely taken from behind the bedroom door that’s cracked open wide enough for him to watch and record your naked form without you noticing him.

Wow. You definitely need to improve your situational awareness as well. It’s kinda hot though that he even has these saved.

Fuck, you’re getting sidetracked. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it. It’s been fifteen minutes already and you should be relieved there’s absolutely nothing yet.

Your face is flushed now out of guilt, embarrassment, and frustration. Your fingers are cramping from all the scrolling. You sigh slightly in disappointment. You skim through the apps. No dating apps like Tinder, or Bumble, Hinge, or even ChristianMingle. You’re just about to throw in the towel and place the iPhone back on the nightstand.

Then you see it.

There’s a familiar panic seizing your throat. He has it hidden with a bunch of other apps like YouTube, Netflix, and Hulu in a folder titled “Entertainment.” He has the What’sApp messenger app. It has three notifications. You don’t know how you manage to silence your sobs when you see there’s only one contact and one active conversation that goes back for months. The chat is an exchange of nudes and lewd messages between your husband and his co-worker that he told you not to worry about.

Yep. Of course. She’s definitely his work-wife. There’s even a few sex tapes shared between the two of them in the app that looks like it was shot in the office or in the same car that they always take to carpool together to work.

For once, your impulses guided you in the right direction. For once, your instincts led you to form a hypothesis that would be proven as valid. You just wish there was also a scientific method to recovering from heartbreak as quickly as possible as you try to stifle your strangled sobs while your husband continues to sleep peacefully next to you.

A/N: Questions? Comments? Concerns? … snide remarks?

This is my first fic. So thank you so much for reading. Please let me know if I need to tag any more warnings.

taglist: @pichara @odmlevis @izukine @candy-hime @emepe @honeyloverogers @wakatvshi

[kuroopaisen]

after hours || kuroo tetsurou

➵ a late night study session might just end with kuroo having a heart attack over how stupidly cute you are. 

wc: 3.1k

warnings: f!reader, i guess it’s implied she’s short?, kuroo’s Dumb, i can’t stop thinking about the in-between someone get my own story out of my head please

a/n: hi i wrote this on a whim and for some reason it’s 3k i’m gonna yartz,,, kuroo brainrot let’s go! but thank you ren for beta’ing it yet again :( 

the in-between m.list

“But I’m tired,” you whine, plopping your face cheek-first onto your textbook.

“We’re all tired,” Kuroo goads, shaking his head. “Come on. The more we do now, the less we have to worry about later.”

“I know,” you whine. “You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

“I wouldn’t have to remind you if you just did your work,” he grins. “We know for a fact that leaving things to the last minute makes you really stressed.”

“Maybe I work best under pressure,” you mumble. “Ever considered that?”

“I have,” he smiles. “Now you tell me: is it worth the nervous breakdown?”

“You’re cruel and I hate you.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you mutter.

“I think someone’s trying to procrastinate,” he chuckles, reaching over to ruffle your hair.

“It’s late,” you groan. “I’m tired.”

“You’ve made that very clear,” he grins.

You lift your head off the textbook, glare-pouting at him. Your attempts to look intimidating rarely succeed, and this is no exception. 

Kuroo can’t hold back his fond smile.

You look exhausted.

Your eyes are a little blearier than usual, shot through with red. Your hair’s a bit of a mess – not that you’ve really made an effort with it anyway – and you’ve got that dull pallor that seems to befall everyone deficient of adequate sleep.

Maybe ten forty-six in the evening was a bit late to be starting homework. And unfortunately for you, the focus for this evening is maths and chemistry.

Of course, Kuroo’s adamant that he tried to get started earlier.

(He didn’t think that the two of you would end up wasting so much of the afternoon just watching Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, but when he’d checked the time, he’d tried to move onto studying.

You, on the other hand, had other ideas.

“Just one more episode.”

“No,” he shook his head. “We’ve got work to do.”

“But we can’t stop here,” you whined. “I wanna know what happens.”

“We’ve got to study,” he’d replied, firm and strict and resolute.

But when you’d grabbed his arm and pouted up at him, saying “Please, Tetsu?”, his resolve toppled in on itself like a poorly constructed engineering assignment made of straws.)

“Hey,” he sighs, patting you on the back. “Let’s just try to get this chapter done tonight, okay? That’s all.”

“Okay,” you mumble.

He knows it’s a bit unfair; the chapter in question is a rather long one, with far more activities in it than the average. But he trusts you to understand what needs to be done – he wouldn’t be putting you through this if it wasn’t so relevant.

He wants you to succeed. He really does. And you both know just how hard he’s been working to help you get to where you need to be.

Time and time again, you apologise for taking up so much of his time, for asking so much of him. He always smiles, saying that it’s actually good practice for him, too – and, of course, you’re managing the volleyball team.

He insists it’s a two-way street.

Not that it matters. He knows that he’d still do this for you, even if he gets nothing out of it.

He finds it too hard to say no to you, after all.

Kuroo jumps as a solid three-rap knock rattles his door.

“Are you still up, Tetsu dear?” His grandmother’s voice sounds far too amused for his liking.

“Uh, yeah,” he swallows, getting out of his chair and opening the door.

His grandmother stands in front of him, dressed in her purple silk pyjamas.

(They’re a recent birthday present that you’d chipped in a bit of money for, even though Kuroo had told you it was fine – you didn’t need to.

You’d just smiled and told him that you wanted to say a little thank you for how kind she’d been to you.

He remembers that his heart skipped a little at your smile.)

“Goodness, Tetsu, I keep forgetting just how tall you are,” his grandmother chuckles, craning her neck to get a good look at his face.

“Maybe you’re just shrinking,” Kuroo grins.

“Don’t even joke about that, my boy,” she laughs, shaking her head. “That’s a very real possibility at my age.”

She pokes her head through the doorway, catching sight of you slouched in your chair.

“You look exhausted, dear,” she smiles, tilting her head at you.

“I am,” you whine, stretching your arms over the desk. “Your grandson is a tyrant.”

“Perhaps you and Kenma should stage a coup,” she suggests, eyes twinkling. “Dethrone this despot king and free yourselves from his incessant nagging.”

“I don’t nag!”

“Oh, is that so?” her smile widens. “‘Oh, don’t forget to drink this whole bottle, Obaa-chan. It’s important to keep your fluids up – especially at your age,’” she coos, dropping her voice an octave or so in her best attempt to replicate Kuroo’s tone. “‘Oh, Obaa-chan, come take a walk with me! You’ve been sitting in front of the TV too long. Let’s get those old bones moving.’”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Kuroo grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, “we get the picture.”

“‘Obaa-chan! You shouldn’t be up this late! You don’t wanna wear yourself out!’” She continues, cracking a grin.

“Okay, okay!” Kuroo grouches, a sour look on his face. “Point taken!”

“I’m just teasing,” she grins. “Goodnight, Tetsu. And goodnight, dear! Don’t let him boss you around!”

“Yes ma’am!” You bark cheerfully.

She chuckles, shaking her head. But she says nothing more, ambling out the door.

Kuroo sighs.

If anything, he’s just glad she didn’t poke fun at him for having a girl in his room. Though he’s well-aware he should be grateful for the fact that he's trusted enough to not have his family snooping on him every five minutes.

Besides, being alone together in a room doesn’t mean anything. Even if…

He swallows roughly, forcing his mind to go blank.

No space for unsavoury thoughts here. None at all.

He shuts the door with a firm slam, turning back to you with his best poker face.

“So,” he hums, ambling back over to you and glancing at the textbook laid out on the desk. “What do you want to focus on?”

“Well, I think it’s time for us to talk about Pride’s true identity—”

Kuroo tsks, shaking his head. “We’ve had enough Brotherhood for one evening.”

You whine, slouching back in your chair. “Just one more episode?”

“No,” he laughs. “If we keep putting this off, we’re just going to have more to stress about later.”

“Fine,” you sigh, sticking your tongue out at him. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m starting to think hiring you on as manager was a mistake,” he grins.

“Excuse me?” You gasp, affronted.

“You’re supposed to be responsible,” he chuckles. “You know – able to make good choices and all that.”

“I do make good choices,” you glare at him. “I just hate any and everything to do with maths.”

Kuroo snorts. To be fair, he’s had the sneaking suspicion that you might be much better at chemistry if it didn’t involve so much mathematics.

“Besides,” you huff, crossing your arms, “the first years would riot.”

“You mean Lev would riot.”

“I’m sure Inuoka would stick up for me,” you say. “And you don’t want to make Shibayama sad, do you?”

“I didn’t say anything about kicking you out,” Kuroo grins, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I know,” you hum. “Just making sure you’re aware.”

Kuroo rolls his eyes playfully, flicking your forehead. “Whatever.”

The two of you settle down after that, returning to your blasted enemy.

You do fairly well, all things considered. Your focus is a bit off, but you make a good effort. And, like always, you manage to understand Kuroo’s layman explanations of things.

Of course, the two of you can’t help yourself – your study is punctuated by straying conversations that last a little longer than they should (Kuroo’s a big believer in the fifteen-five-fifteen study method, but sometimes there’s simply too much to say; a mere five minutes doesn’t cover it). Sometimes you simply demand to see Inu-chan, not budging until you’d given the Akita a good pat.

But tonight, even Kuroo tires quickly. He figures it’s probably because you started so late; something he promises himself he’ll never let happen again. Although, he’s not willing to bet money on it.

“Alright, I’m gonna go get a drink,” he sighs, stretching his arms above his head as he stands up. His interlaced fingers almost brush the ceiling. “Did you want anything?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” you sigh, putting your pencil down.

You’ve got that look on your face. The one you get when you’re faced with a particularly confusing equation or a concept you need a bit of time to wrap your head around. Kuroo knows it well; it’s usually soon followed by a quiet confession of worry and doubt.

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out a hand and ruffling your hair gently. “You’re doing better than you think you are.”

He wishes he could do more for you, wishes he could kick those awful feelings out of your brain. But there’s not much more he can do than this.  

You look up at him with wide eyes. Your features look so gentle in the light of his desk lamp, the shadows soft and diffused. You look fond.

Kuroo tries to ignore it.

“You think so?” You pout.        

“Would I lie?” He chuckles.

You peer at him closely for a moment, leaning close.

Too close.

Close enough for him to make out the intricacies of your eye colour. Close enough that he’s sure you can feel just how hot his face has become. Close enough for his mind to wander to a place it really shouldn’t.

He stands up sharply before he’s even processed what’s going on.

“I’m, uh…” He clears his throat roughly, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. “I’m gonna go get some water.”

“Okay!” You nod, smiling sweetly at him.

He doesn’t let himself linger, rushing off to the kitchen and pouring himself a tall glass of water.

He gulps the whole thing down at breakneck speed. His punishment for such hastiness is a hiccup that lurches his whole chest. Well, at least it shifted whatever weird feeling was there before.

What time is it?

He turns to the clock on the kitchen wall.

His eyes blow wide.

Twelve thirty-six. Oh, shit. He ponders, for a moment, if the clock is a few hours fast.

With a little nugget of guilt in his chest, he rushes back upstairs to his bedroom.

He opens the door slowly, not wanting to disturb the house. He slips through just as quietly, turning to say something to you.

You're lying on the desk again. But this time, your head is laid on crossed arms, your back rising and falling gently with each breath.

Kuroo’s heart feels like it might damn well shatter.

His first instinct is to pick you up and put you on his bed.

His first coherent thought is ‘what the fuck, dude?’.

He slinks towards you and places a gentle hand on your shoulder. He flushes at the contact.

What are you, twelve? He chastises himself. You’ve touched each other plenty of times before.

He immediately regrets that phrasing.

“Hey,” he murmurs, shaking your shoulder slightly. “Wake up.”

You’re motionless.

“Hey,” Kuroo whines.

“Hm?” You croak, stirring a little.

Kuroo draws back.

You lift your head and blink at him through bleary eyes.

Holy shit, he thinks. Holy fucking shit.

“It’s past midnight,” he says, ruffling your hair on instinct. Why he made the effort to yet again make physical contact with you, he doesn’t know. It’s a terrible idea, really.

“Ew,” you frown. “No.”

Kuroo shoves both his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. There’s no risk of him doing something stupid if he does that, right?

You’re staring at your phone, your eyebrows drawn together and your lips pursed.

He knows that look.

It’s the one you always pull when he (reluctantly) calls an end to whatever you’re doing before walking you home in the evening. And he doesn’t miss how you stick a little closer to him when it’s dark, or how you always seem to glance over your shoulder at each and every peculiar sound. And he certainly doesn’t miss how you ask him to text you to let you know he’s gotten home safe.  

You don’t need to tell him that you don’t want to walk all that way in the dark.

“Do you just want to stay here tonight?” He asks. He loathes himself for the weird fuzziness that churns in his gut.

You pout at him. He’s seen that face enough times to know that it means ‘please.’

“Wait here,” he smiles.

He hurries to the laundry area, rifling through his grandmother’s pile of clean clothing. There’s no way he’s going to let you sleep in your school uniform; it can’t be comfortable, and the fabric doesn’t seem breathable.

He goes through the pile once. Twice. Three times.

Nothing. There’s nothing he can lend you for the evening.

“Shit,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. Surely there must be—

Oh no. Oh no.

He catches sight of a plain black shirt sitting atop his pile of clean clothes. His face suddenly feels very, very hot.

It’s fine, he thinks. It’s not a big deal. My heart is not racing at the thought of her wearing one of my clothes. It’s not.

He grabs the shirt with a certain boyish carelessness, as if to prove to himself that he’s not losing his mind.

Sure, the blurry image of you wearing one of his shirts keeps trying to barge its way to the forefront of his mind, but it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s just a teenage boy thing.

He stalks back to his room with the whisper of a scowl on his face. Man, he needs to go to sleep.

As he opens the door, he catches sight of you mid-stretch. Your face is screwed up like a cat’s, nose scrunched up and eyes screwed shut.

But you’re cute. How is that cute? Why is that expression so endearing?

I’m delirious, he surmises. Probably because it’s so late.

He holds the shirt out to you with a stiff arm. “Here.”

Would you find it weird, him giving you one of his own shirts to sleep in? Would you think he’s being creepy?

You just nod as you take it from him, holding it to your chest with two hands like it’s a blanket.

Ah. So he’s overthinking it. Like an idiot.

“Did you let your family know?” He asks, trying to distract himself from his own fraying thoughts.

You nod. “I called them.”

“And they’re… fine with it?” His eyes widen slightly. Their daughter, staying over a night at a boy’s house…

“They were more angry at me for waking them up,” you pout. “But they didn’t have any problems with it.”

Kuroo’s heart swells. He’s trusted – your parents don’t mind this little arrangement. He’s not quite sure why he’s so proud, but he lets himself bask in it.

“Hey, Tetsu?”

“Hm?”

“Could I please have some water?” You mumble, rubbing one of your eyes with your knuckles.

He dashes out of the room a little quicker than he usually would – almost like his body had moved on instinct to fulfil your request.

By the time he gets back to his room, you’ve finished changing.

Kuroo’s certain he’s going to explode.

His shirt is so big on you – it’s already a bit roomy on him – grazing your lower thighs and giving him the overwhelming desire to wrap his arms around you. Your eyes are half-lidded, your cheeks puffed out a little, your hair all messy and unkempt. You look so sleepy, so cute, so—

He thrusts the glass of water towards you, cringing as the liquid sloshes dangerously close to the lip of the cup.

“Thank you,” you smile, your face lighting up as you take it from you.

Kuroo doesn’t fail to notice how your fingers brush against his as you do so.

God, he really needs to get some sleep.

“You stay in here,” he swallows, gesturing to his room.

You blink at him for a moment before realising what he means. “Wait, really?”

He nods. “I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

“No—” You’re pouting at him, misplaced guilt shining in your eyes.

“It’s fine,” Kuroo grins, ruffling your hair on reflex. He swears he zaps his fingers. “Now, you get some sleep.

“Fine,” you mumble, glare-pouting at him. “But you’ll… you’ll pay for this.”

“Will I now?” His grin broadens.

“I will,” you nod, comically resolute. “Wait, no—no, you will.”

Kuroo laughs, ruffling your hair again and reaching to—

Woah. Woah.

Where’d this sudden urge to kiss you on the forehead come from? That’s… weird.

He draws his hand back quickly. He can’t risk doing anything stupid.

“Now sleep,” he tuts, pointing you to the bed. “But don’t forget to drink your water.”

“I know,” you huff, turning around and scuttling towards the bed.

Kuroo turns around sharply, making a beeline for the door. If seeing you in his shirt was enough to make his brain go haywire, then seeing you in his bed…

He’s pretty sure he throws you a ‘good night’ before pulling the door to his room firmly shut, but he can’t be certain. He’s too busy taking a deep breath, trying to filter all the unsavoury and alarming thoughts out of his brain.

You’re his friend. He’s not supposed to want to kiss you on the forehead, to hold you in his arms. Hell, you’d probably think it was weird enough that he finds you so damn cute. And God, the thought of making you uncomfortable…

The guilt roots itself deep as he grabs himself some blankets and pillows from the laundry cupboard, dragging himself towards the couch.

He throws himself onto it face first, trying to ignore the burn running through his body. It feels like he’s on fire – and that pouty, sleepy expression of yours is scorched on the back of his eyelids.

This is normal, he reasons. He’s just a normal, hormonal teenager who likes girls. And you, a dear and beloved friend, just so happens to be a girl. This is unfortunate, but it’s fine. It doesn’t mean anything more. Right?

You’re just friends. Nothing weird going on here.

Besides, it’s not his fault. Anyone would’ve been endeared by what he’d seen tonight.

You’re just too damn cute.

Right?

[yeoandmoon]

you are now listening to graceland too by phoebe bridgers! ( yeosang x f!reader )

fluff, burnout!yeosang, bassist!yeosang, writer!reader, childhood friends 2 lovers but also idiots 2 lovers, yeosang and reader run away, seongjoong are engaged, wooyoung + yeonjun have a band, there is only one bed, yeosang has a nose ring, it’s implied reader has a bad relationship with her mother, wc is 3.1k

NOTE: happy yeosang day! this was a doozy to write, but i hope you all enjoy it! its based off one of my favourite phoebe bridgers songs! :)

There’s a mural on the wall of the hotel lobby. It’s a warm toned painting of a forest, with a hint of a bright blue sky peeking out from the top of the trees. There’s a moose standing at the forefront of the mural, and a little fox sleeping on a rock towards the bottom, surrounded by colourful flowers and leaves.

The mural confused you, if you were being honest. The hotel you worked the night audit at was situated in the busy downtown centre of the city you lived in, and there were barely any forests for miles around the city - let alone any wildlife, like moose or foxes. Hongjoong said it was to make guests feel more ‘in touch with nature’ and to help people forget about the ‘problems of the real world’, while Yeosang claimed it was ‘just another scam in the tourist trap’.

You, on the other hand, was sure the mural was put there to torture you. You would spend nights having staring contests with the moose (which, to your surprise, you always lost), or you would spend hours on Google with Hongjoong trying to find out what species of fox the sleeping fox was (you were sure it was a cape fox, while Hongjoong swore up and down that it was a gray fox). The blue sky between the trees teased you; a reminder that most of your days were spent in the library at your university, or in this dimly lit lobby.

Sometimes, it felt like the only time you saw the sunshine was when you were with Yeosang.

Despite the occasional burnout and the lack of seeing sun most days, you didn’t mind the job. You were always more of a night person, and your classes were always later in the day so you did manage to pull in some sleep. Due to the late hours, you usually only dealt with customers in the first hour or two of your shift, and most of that was just directing confused Ubereats delivery people and pretty Tinder dates to hallways and rooms. It was the perfect job to work on your writing, and get your school work out of the way without listening to your mother cry about how you’re throwing your life away like your sister.

Plus, you could think of a hundred worse people to spend the night shift with than the nighttime valet, Hongjoong. Hongjoong often kept you occupied with his latest reforms and art projects, and stories about his fiancee, Seonghwa & their friend, Yunho (who he kept insisting you needed to go on a date with).

“Your emo boy is coming.”

Well, you could think of ninety-nine worse people to spend the night shift with than Hongjoong, who sat next to you at the check-in desk.

You scoff, “He’s not my emo boy.” You mumble, glancing at the street entrance to see Yeosang walk in with an ice coffee on hand.

Despite your words, Kang Yeosang was your person (you wouldn’t quite use the term ‘emo boy’, even if it did fit), and he had been since your family moved in next door to his family when you two were children. Although your friendship lately had been reduced to these late night meetings while you two were on break on your respective graveyard shifts (you at the hotel and Yeosang at the convenience store down the block, of course) and occasional meetings in the garden when you were both running errands for your families, you still considered Yeosang one of your dearest memories.

It was hard not too, you suppose. He had been there for many of your firsts, and was always cheering you on. Yeosang always made you feel powerful and important - like a powerful heroine, and not his bratty next door neighbor who cried on his doorstep after being dumped by her first year partner. He always made you feel wanted.

Yeosang grinned at you as he stepped into the lobby (if your heart fluttered in your chest, you ignored it). He had on a backwards dad cap, and he had recently changed his nose ring out for the gold hoop San had bought him for his birthday. You could just faintly see his birthmark peeking out from where his bleach blonde hair curled under the hat.

“Hello, Sunshine.” He greets you, setting the coffee down on your desk.

You set the pen you were holding down, “Hi Yeosang.”

Upon first glance at Yeosang, you can tell he’s buzzing about something. He’s leaning over the check-in counter and chewing on his lip while making small talk with Hongjoong about the tourist season.

You raise an eyebrow, sipping your coffee as Yeosang turns back to you, “Do you remember Wooyoung and Yeonjun?”

You nearly choke on your coffee at the mention of your other neighbor and ex-boyfriend. Wooyoung had moved onto your street a few years after you had, and quickly became apart of the little bond you and Yeosang had formed. He moved to the coast with Yeonjun, your ex, the first chance they had gotten, but Wooyoung’s family remained in the neighborhood.

“I babysat Woo’s brother the other day…” You watched your friend, “Did something happen? Mrs Jung didn’t say anything the other day.”

Yeosang grins, and it’s his scheming grin, “Their band got signed,” He tells you, “They need a new bassist, and Wooyoung showed them that video you took of me from that show last month. Their label wants me to come down; play a few shows with them, record a couple demos. See if we have chemistry, basically.”

Your eyes widen - both out of excitement and fear. You were happy and excited for Yeosang! This is the opportunity he had been wanting for years, but you were also terrified.

You were terrified in a horrible, selfish way because you knew if Yeosang left to join Wooyoung and Yeonjun, he’d never come back to you.

“That’s… That’s great, Yeo!” You manage a grin whilst trying to shove the selfish thoughts away, “When do they want you there?”

Yeosang’s smile falters, just for a moment but you still catch it, “Monday.”

“F-Five days?”

He nods, “I’m leaving Saturday morning, so I can be there Sunday afternoon.”

You can see it in his eyes; he’s terrified too.

Before you can say anything else, Yeosang leans over the check-in counter and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I have to get back to work, Sunshine.” He tells you, his voice quiet as if he’s giving you a secret, “I’ll see you later.”

He’s already halfway down the lobby when you swear and move out of your chair, you quickly call his name as you move out from behind the desk. You rush over to where he’s standing, and look up at him. He’s confused.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat when you pull him into a tight hug, “I’m proud of you, Yeo.”

Yeosang wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. His chest is warm, and you’re sure you could spend hours here. He smiles, pressing another kiss to your head, “I know, Sunshine.” He pulls away, his hand on your arm, “I really do have to go, though. I’m already late for work.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around your torso as you watch him leave the hotel and turn down the street to go back to the convenience store. When you turn back around, Hongjoong is watching you with an amused look on his face.

You glare at him as you walk back to the desk, “Don’t you have a fiance to call, or something?”

----------------

You were tired.

Friday nights were always busy, but tonight was draining and loud and you could only take so much of Miss Liu’s incessant phone calls about mundane things at 3am. All you wanted to do was go home, and fall into your bed and sleep for hours.

Hongjoong didn’t help your mood either. It was an innocent question about Yeosang, asking if you’d seen him since he visited you on his break but it pushed your mood down to a low point. You had been so busy the past few days, and if you were being honest with yourself, you had been avoiding Yeosang.

You weren’t ready to see him leave. You knew it was selfish, but you figured avoiding Yeosang was easier than admitting you didn’t want him to leave you behind. You would just simply watch his life through Instagram and consider the ‘what-ifs’ in your life.

You shouldered your tote bag after clocking out before yelling a good-bye to Hongjoong. You could see the beginning rays of morning sun hitting the other buildings in the downtown core as you stepped out the employee doors, and then you were hit by the sight of Yeosang leaning against one of the pillars.

Your eyes widen, “Yeosan-”

“Come with me.”

You stop. Your words are left in your throat, “W-Wh… Go with you? To the coast?”

Yeosang nods, “Come with me,” He steps forward, taking your hands in his, “What do you have here? A degree you don’t care about? A job you hate?”

You frown, running over his words in your head, “I-I have my mom. And… I have Hongjoong!”

He raises an eyebrow, “Y/N, Sunshine… Your mom will barely notice you’re gone, and Hongjoong can visit us.” He cupped your cheek.

You’re so busy having an internal crisis you hardly notice the usage of ‘us’. You’re considering the logistics in your head. Yeosang was right; you didn’t care about your degree, and all it would take was an email saying you quit for them to find a new front desk person. Your mom would be upset for a few weeks. She’d probably make some passive aggressive Facebook posts about you before acting like your best friend again.

“Yeosang…” You look up at him, your hand coming up to circle around his wrist.

“Your sister is there, and you could write everyday.” Yeosang adds on, “I did the math, Y/N. Between the two of us, we’d have 6 months to figure it out. 6 months, and we’ll come back here if nothing works out.”

You stay silent for a moment.

“Sunshine, I promised I’d show you the stars, didn’t I?”

You gasp at the promise. It was a silly promise he had made when you were both kids; something you’d almost forgotten about.

It hits you quickly: there’s no one else you’d rather run away with. There’s no one else you’d trust to run away with.

You look up at Yeosang, “Yes.”

He grins, “Yes?”

You nod, “Yes, Yeo. I’ll go with you.”

----------------

An hour. An hour was how long it took for you to turn your life upside down for Kang Yeosang.

In an hour, you had emailed your program advisor and told them you wouldn’t be returning for the next semester, and you had called your manager and told them you wouldn’t be coming in for your next shift, or any shift after that (which was promptly followed by a phone call from Hongjoong, who seemed more excited about this than you were). You had packed up most of your clothes and important belongings, and they were loaded into the back of Yeosang’s shitty car. You left a note for your mother, and before you knew it, you were sitting in the passenger’s seat of Yeosang’s car.

----------------

You had fallen asleep barely an hour into the car ride. 

The rolling hills and fields outside your window made your eyes feel heavier, but you tried staying awake to keep Yeosang company.

“Go to sleep, Sunshine.” He tells you, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Yeosang’s promise was all it took for you to succumb to your exhaustion.

You don't usually remember your dreams. Though today, there are flashes of a beach, and a smile that takes your breath away. There are blue skies and if you try hard enough, you can just faintly smell sea salt.

You wake up hours later, smiling. True to his word, Yeosang is still there when you wake. He’s wearing a pair of sunglasses, and tapping his fingers to the beat of the song on the radio.

Yeosang smiles when he notices you’re awake, “I talked to your mother.”

Your eyes widen, “You talked to who?”

He laughs, “You didn’t answer your phone, so she called me.”

You frown, glancing at your phone in the free cup holder. You could imagine the amount of calls and texts that were in there.

“She wasn’t very happy.” Yeosang continues, “She wants you to call her when we get there.”

You nod, “Thank you, Yeo.” You say softly, looking over at him.

Yeosang throws you a smile, “Of course.”

“Not just for talking to my mom…” You watch him, “For not leaving me behind, too. Thank you.”

Yeosang reaches over, taking your hand, “I’d never leave you behind, Sunshine. You’d have to try really hard to get rid of me.”

----------------

The car ride was long, and full of Yeosang’s early 2000s emo playlist & fast food. You called your sister, who was ecstatic to hear about your plans and had immediately offered you and Yeosang her beach house. She made a comment about how ‘she always knew you two would end up together’, and it made your heart flutter when you glanced at Yeosang.

Yeosang told you about Wooyoung’s band, and how excited he was to play with Wooyoung. You smiled, listening to him fondly talk about your old friends and their music.

It was getting late though, and you could see it in Yeosang’s face that he was getting tired.

“We should stop for the night.” You tell him, “You’ve been driving since 6am, Yeo.”

He huffs, “We could drive through the night.” He proposes, “We’d make it to your sister’s place in a few hours.”

You frown, “Or... We could stop for the night, shower, and then leave first thing tomorrow morning. We'll get there by noon tomorrow.”

Yeosang glances at you, going to protest. He ends up yawning instead, his nose wrinkling slightly, “Fine.” He pouts.

You laugh, reaching for your phone to google the closest hotels. There's a comfortable silence in the car, filled with the occasional beat of Yeosang’s fingers on the steering wheel. You feel at ease, even if it's just for a moment.

“There’s a motel off the next exit.” You tell him, stifling a yawn of your own.

----------------

Sure enough, there had been a motel off the next exit. It was small and slightly rundown, but cheap and had an available room. You waited in the car while Yeosang went into the check-in office, promising to be back in a moment.

He came back dangling a key in his hand, and a slight frown on his face as he opened the car door to let you out.

“So... There’s only one bed.” He broke the news, a blush growing up his cheeks, “It’s all they had, unless we wanted to drive another hour down the highway.”

Your eyes widen, “O-Oh.” You glance at the key, and then back up at Yeosang, “I’ll sleep on the floor, or something.”

Yeosang frowns, shaking his head, “We can share for one night, Sunshine. I think it’ll be okay.”

Which leads you to here; lying almost nose to nose with Yeosang. Your hair was soaking wet from a shower in the tiny bathroom and the small motel bed wasn’t comfortable, but you didn’t seem to mind as you took in the man in front of you. You pushed the strands of bleach blonde hair out of his face, and your fingers softly lingered on the birthmark next to his eye.

His breath stuttered, “Y/N,” He says, his voice a mere whisper, “We’re free.”

You let your hand rest against his cheek. Your eyes lingered on his lips before you caught yourself, moving your gaze back up to his eyes.

Yeosang only smiled at you. He gently held your wrist as he tilted his head and placed a soft kiss on your palm, “I’m going to kiss you now, Sunshine.”

“Yes please.”

You felt every nerve in your body light up when Yeosang kissed you.

A small part of your brain told you that this is where you’re meant to be: in Yeosang’s arms.

You felt this way the first time Yeosang had kissed you too, all the way back on that roof in 11th grade. You two had been talking about the future; about your writing and Yeosang’s music. You looked up at the hazy night sky, and you asked Yeosang if you’d ever get to see the stars.

He smiled at you, telling you that he would show them to you one day before he kissed you so sweetly.

Yeosang still kissed you sweetly. He kissed you like you held the secrets of the universe in your hand for him to take.

You pulled away, “I think I love you.”

He smiles against your lips, rubbing soft circles into your wrist, “I think I love you too, baby.”

—————-

You had this assumption that the next morning would be awkward; that you would be stuck for the next 6 months with someone you could barely look in the eye because of a late night confession.

Instead, you awoke to Yeosang kissing your head and placing a bagel & ice coffee down for you. He had quickly ushered you into the shower, before you put on a change of clothes and were quickly led out to the car between bites of your bagel. This all happened over Yeosang telling you how you only had a few hours before you reached your sister’s beach house, and he wanted to try and make good time so you could enjoy the beach today.

You giggled at his antics before settling into the passenger’s seat for the last few hours of your journey.

You sipped your ice coffee as you watched out the window. The countryside on the highway zoomed by you, and the car was full of sunlight from Yeosang’s sunroof being open. There was a Fall Out Boy song on the radio, and you felt a sense of calm brush over you as Yeosang took your hand in his.

The sunshine had never felt so nice on your skin as Yeosang pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

taglist: @vanishingboots @sunsethw4​ 

[nightswithkookmin]

Was Jk shading Taehyung during his New Years wishes to him at GDA? Twitter people are reading a LOT into it, saying that Jk is still salty at Tae and vice versa. They seem pretty chill to me. Why do people always find reasons to believe there is Vminkook drama?Is there a reason to think they aren't repairing their freindship?

VMINKOOK...

First of all, why would JK shade Taehyung? What are they fighting about, I wonder. Has anyone known JK to be the passive aggressive king slash shade throwing one in that trio? Because, not me...

I don't see him as the, 'those two are hanging out now followed by a slight head tilt,' kind of person. The 'Jimin wants to come but JK is keeping him from coming,' the 'well, you ignore me anyway so I couldn't tell you were on a mission' kind.

Or even the, 'my friendship relationships are gold to me and it's important for me to nurture those connections' knowing damn well the elephant in the room has a possessive streak and he himself has been on record, allegedly, stating he has one same age friend and all his friends are hyungs- so what is JK to you then Jimin?

Then the whole, 'texting is not a great way to build connections and is a barrier to effective communication' -words spewed in full cognizance of the fact JK is a bad texter yet prefers texting to talking on phone anyway- that is what I call shade. Not sure what was in the water that day, but chilee Jimin was all over the place in that Be Behind video. Lmho.

I think everyone, including even the semi-rational Tuktukker, know damn well what JK meant by that statement and what had prompted it- but leave it to them to circumvent.

Ah, V hyung... we used to have a special bond. When we were trainees, we had such great chemistry. V used to be the easiest hyung to talk to, now it's awkward.

Where is the shade in this? I don't think at all that he is or was in anyway shading Tae or any one. To shade would imply he has stock. He don't.

I hate when people talk about Tae Kook as if there is something wrong with their bond. There isn't. It is what it is. It's just not what their shoppers make it out to be. They are looking for depth where there is none. The fact of the matter is Tae Kook lacks depth to their dynamics. We know it, JK knows it, BigHit knows it. No amount of bullying Jimin or Jokers will add that missing depth back to their relationship. Sorry.

'He is still salty,' honey he was never salty about anything to begin with. They tried it! Making it sound like JK wants Tae to change in order to relate with him again. He don't.

Why would JK be salty about Tae's growth? Why would he object to Tae's growth?

Because that's what it is. This whole Tae Kook tensions is not about them fighting, it's about them growing apart. Tae grew the fuck up and JK can't relate with him or treat him the way he used to when they were young.

And if these self absorbed, legally blind shoppers looked beyond Tae Kook for a second, they will know it's not just JK complaining about Tae changing and becoming different as he grew up.

Tae used to be the easiest hyung to talk to and bully because they were closer in age and Tae allowed for such familiarity between them. Similar to how, Jin and Jimin allows for a certain degree of familiarity and informality between them and Jk.

While Tae allowed and was open to this level of closeness and informality between them, JK apparently held on to the gates, only scraping the surface of it and inhibiting the depth that could have been to their dynamics.

Was Tae content with that dynamic? No. Did he communicate that to JK? May be he did but JK wouldn't let his guards down. Tae failed to breach JK's emotional boundaries and years later he would express this sentiment openly to JK in their conversation in Soop.

Whereas, JK admitted to Jimin's successful breach of his emotional walls when he recounted the story of their rainy day fight- let me not hear any one compare Jikook to any of JK's ship in BTS, I whoop your ass. D!

This is the intimacy that is missing in Tae Kook. When you are close to someone, you not only feel at ease with them enough to express your thoughts freely with them, you are comfortable enough with them to be yourself, be different, to antagonize them without the fear that your differences and outbursts will sever your bond or lead to irreparable damage to your bond.

Fact is, in as much as JK felt close to Tae in the early days, he harbored a fear that being fully himself enough to be 'opinionated' and fully honest in his self expressions towards him, would break their bond.

He clearly didn't trust their bond was strong enough to handle all of that. That's the intimacy you find in Jikook. The trust. They are both unapologetically themselves with eachother because they trust in their bond.

Which means they share a lot but are also very opinionated with eachother, clash and assert themselves with eachother. And I know the kumbaya fake woke Jokers hate to hear it, but Jikook are strong not because they don't fight but because their bond withstands the test of a fight as Tae explained in his conversation with JK in Soop.

He was able to get closer with Jimin and Jin by being openly assertive with them- going against Jimin in the dumpling incident and all the times they fought, directly confrontational with Jin over their dance choreo but with JK he had always been scared to open himself in that way with him for whatever reason- I won't bother speculating on. It's their ship, they should do the maths.

May be he learned his lesson. He's learned not to fear conflict, to be assertive without fearing he would be punished for it, to be less passive aggressive as he was before and express himself and his feelings more openly over the years.

But it took him closing himself off to get there. Always looking in photos as if Yeontan ate the last brisket. Exuding melancholic vibes.

Young Jk equally didn't have a positive view on conflict and conflict resolution and I think he knew his place as the youngest and did not want to be as opinionated or assertive against them and so, as he explained to Tae in Soop, he opted to keep a safe distance emotionally from everyone- not just Tae.

When JK talks about we used to have a special bond, all he means is they used to be mischievous, get in trouble together, be brats, chat shit under their breaths behind their hyungs- partners in crime and as I like to call them, be the evil power duo of BTS.

They literally shared one brain cell lol, and conspired a lot. Their bond was unique only in that Tae was a rebel at heart and a bit innocent or immature as RM and the others would say.

Ship wise, Tae used to be on his side. He was protective of him and and looked out for him when they were young- that's of course before he started passive aggressively exposing JK's relationship with Jimin on VLives, incessantly shipping Jimin with Suga, dragging JK's ass away from JM's car so he could ride with him and all of those harmless moments that to anyone with little understanding of Tae's character would assume Tae didn't support JK's relationship.

And even after Soop, he put JK on the spot when he tried eye fucking Jimin through the view finder during their dynamite MV- he knew what JK was going to do. He's seen him do that a countless times to Jimin- HE KNOWS.

There is a reason JK gave him that look in the Dynamite shoot interview when he thought Tae was intentionally trying to expose him holding hands with Jimin behind Suga.

As much as these little things may be irritating to Kook, I don't think Tae gotta kiss his ass too. Jk can be messy sometimes with his Jikook agenda.

Of course they dynamic would change if Tae changed too- which is what Jimin and everyone says of Taehyung. He is very reserved and mature now. He is not the same childish, immature, reckless teen JK or Tuktukkers used to know.

He grew faster than either JK or JM had hoped and they both miss that part of him. Tae said he wished he could get a time machine and show Army the 'Chimchar' he was back in the day. The only way Taekook can be real is if we all hop into a time machine and go back in time to change the trajectory of events.

Tuktukkers need to let go of their old ship, that ship is dead and embrace the new ship brewing in its stead.

Jimin have said occasionally, that side of Tae pops out but he is very different from who he used to be when they were young. Which explains these outbursts of moments and interactions reminiscent of their past bond but that's all that is.

Why do these people insist on infantilizing Tae and holding him to his past?

That comment at GDA wasn't shade. But it was an inside Joke I feel. Like I said, when JK talks about their past history and bond, to me it's reference to a time period where Tae was on his side and was mischievous. To me it's code for 'I miss when you were less uptight and strict.'

He brought up when Tae gave them leeway and was lenient with their schedule during the making of Be- a sentiment all the members expressed in the Be behind video when they praised Tae for giving them much room in their schedules.

It was the same thing he said during his speech to Tae at GDA after bringing up the whole past bond thingy. He wanted to express appreciation to Tae perhaps because the loose schedule Tae had created had given him much time to go home and give his man a blowjob or go house shopping with him- who knows.

The way he kept looking at Jimin while saying that... yea. I'm going with that. Lol.

That loose schedule definitely put Tae in JK and JM's good graces.

My take away from that moment though, is- JK's agenda to give Tuktukkers hernia🤣

Lord I'm dying. I laughed so hard my ribs hurt. Pray for me. Lmho.

Chilee JK.

Dude is on a mission to run the entire Taekook gay, Taekook married propaganda campaign into the ground. What guts me is, he knows what Tae Kook is. I bet he went online after that Tae Kook Vlive to watch Tae Kook compilations. He's been on a mission to obliterate that ship since. Lol.

I mean I won't put it past him. Probably looked up Yoonmin while he was at it and showed Jimin analysis videos of him moaning in Suga's bedroom🤣🤣🤣🤣

Would explain why he was laughing when he saw Yoonmin in the comments during the VLive and why Jimin looked like he wanted to eat us alive. Lmho.

Oh Tae touched my peepee? You bloody moaned in Suga's bedroom how about we call it even?

ROTFL.

I joke but I mean, this is the same dude who took an online personality test after Tae read his results to him in Soop- he definitely watched those Tae Kook compilation-Y'all laugh else I'll shoot you. Lmho. I can't be the only one who finds this funny!

He knows what shipping is, he knows how statements like that would be construed by the fans- and the fact Jimin had spent an entire interview and behind scenes openly disavowing his glorified friendship connections... I smell a renewal of commitment somewhere.

Don't mind me. I play too much sometimes.

There is nothing wrong with Tae Kook's friendship. If anything, it seems JK feels very appreciative of Tae in recent times which is usually a good sign between them because for Vminkook to thrive they all need to make space for eachother and for the pairings amongst them to thrive- Vmin, Taekook and Jikook.

I hope this helps?

Signed,

GOLDY

[marrys-dream-world]

if we’re bound to be something, why not together? (chapter seven)

Read on AO3

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Notes:  I know I'm late, family things. Don't worry, I'm not gonna abandon this story or anything, I swear. Even after ladynoir july ends, I'm still gonna post. Day 7: Height Difference. @ladynoirjuly

Ladybug knew she was short.

As soon as she started growing, the doctors had warned her parents that she might not do much more of that. After all, she inherited her mother’s body type, so she would never get to a height even close to her father’s towering frame. That’s why Marinette was static when she grew taller than her mother, at least she knew she would not stay that short. There was hope for her, still, so maybe the doctors could be wrong, it wasn’t an exact science, anyway. It's not like her friends remind her of it, not since she kicked Kim in the stomach when he called her shorty at the age of seven. They were mature enough, now, to not need to fall back on jabs at her height.

Unless you were, of course, Chat Noir.

It all started on a relatively grumpy day. Adrien Agreste, the love of her life, had gotten a very noticeable  growth spurt. As she had gotten to class surprisingly early (five minutes before the bell rang!!), she was putting her stuff away on the desk when he came in and was alerted by Nino's loud gasp.

"Dude!" He shouted, attracting the attention of their entire class. "You shot up!"

"Haha, yeah, a little." Adrien said, rubbing the back of his neck and turning slightly red. "Happened over the weekend."

Everyone started to congratulate him good-naturedly, Lila suddenly materializing by his side and clinging to his arm in a way that made Marinette's blood boil. Fortunately, Ms. Bustier showed up and sent them to their respective seats. Marinette wondered if she imagined the relieved slump of Adrien's shoulders. During class, she had been unable to fully pay attention, this new development eating her up inside.  Before, she had been perfectly positioned to stare into his green eyes furtively, but now? Her crammed up neck would call too much attention to her. So she spent the rest of the day grumpy, deprived of her daily dose of Agreste’s big greens.

However, when she arrived at their patrol site with a strained “hey, Chat” and got no response, curiosity overwhelmed her annoyance.

“Chat?” She tried again, shaking his shoulder. He glanced at her, stance casual.

“Oh, sorry, my lady.” He said nonchalant and she would have almost believed him if not for the mischievous glint in his green eyes. “Didn’t see you down there.”

Her face matched the color of her suit. “Excuse me?!”

“Having a bad day, bugaboo?” Chat Noir asked, a full smirk now blossoming on his face. “The weather too bad down there?”

She growls at him and he, wisely, jumps away, starting patrol. 

Since then, Chat Noir didn’t miss a chance to take a shot at her. Resting his arm on her head, pretending he didn’t see her coming, ruffling her hair and many more. When they fought Sole Crusher, Chloé’s akumatized sister (being akumatized was a side effect of meeting her, unfortunately, at least that was the most parisian experience she could get on her first day), he would joke about how much harder it would be for the akuma catch her instead of the “normal-sized people”. 

Everytime she would punch him in the closest place she could hit, just a symbolic one (she wouldn’t ever hut him), and then she had to mask the wave of fondness that washed over her as he pretended it was painful and said a “geez, bugaboo, not even Shadow Moth hits this hard, working out too much?”. At school, though, she had other problems.

“Is everything okay, Marinette?” Adrien asked her, looking down at her during the break between math and chemistry. 

“You’re more than okay- I mean, I'm not okay, no, argh. I’m fine, why?” Marinette stammered, trying to not think about how she was at the perfect height to hide her blushing face in his chest.

“You keep looking up at me. Is your neck hurting? Or is something in my hair?”

“Yeah! That's it!”

He frowned. "It 's what?”

“It’s, er, there’s something in your hair!” She lifted her hand to his hair (so! soft!) and ran through it a few times before taking it out. “There, now it’s fine.”

“Thanks, Marinette.” Adrien smiled genuinely and she bit back a gooey sigh. “What was it? In my hair?”

“Just a bug.” She squeaked out, pathetically, but Adrien’s eyes were still soft (fond?), so maybe she didn’t make a complete fool of herself. 

Between the two of them, there was no way she could get more distracted, was what she was thinking. Famous last words. 

It was a Sentimonster with, weirdly enough, no akuma. She hated when he surprised her like that, a new dog learning old tricks. Shadow Moth was usually someone very simple-minded, throwing akumas and sentimonster duos at them with glaring exceptions like Heroes Day. Having a sentimonster with no akuma implied him using new strategies and she didn't appreciate it at all. The Sentimonster, which Chat Noir named Mr. Octi, was a purple giant octopus had sticky tentacles which were impossible to escape.

I'm sorry. Ladybug thought to the civilians caught up in him. Mr. Octi's creepy smile didn't change no matter how much they screamed. 

Distracted as she was, she would have been caught in a purple tentacle if not for the black-clad body that slammed into her and brought her down to a rooftop. Chat Noir turned them around as they hit the concrete, leaving her on top of him.

"Be careful, Ladybug!" He said, carefully cradling her to his chest. 

Even if the suit absorbs most of the impact, she would have winced in sympathy, normally. However, Ladybug had her face pressed into a strong chest as her frantic partner asked if she was okay and stroked her hair. They were strangely aligned, their feet touching and his arms wrapped around her. He smelled fresh (kinda like Adrien the fragrance, actually) and felt warm.

This is nice. She thought, dazed. Maybe Chat Noir wasn't freakishly tall. Maybe… I fit nice here, I think.

"Ladybug?!" His desperate voice broke her out of her trance and she pulled off him like a lightning bolt struck her. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. Great. Dandy." She threw him finger guns and he looked even less convinced. "It's not important! We need to stop the Sentimonster."

When they defeated Mr. Octi and he insisted on checking on her head, it took all her self control to not hide her face on his chest.

It was unfair that Chat Noir of all people was the perfect height for hugging.

[annabethy]

percabeth zoom calls!

“Babe! Do you know where my charger is?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes, adjusting her computer screen so that it was facing her. Percy bangs around in the kitchen some more, for what she suspects is his charger, before he starts cursing, and she suspects he stubbed his toe on the corner of the counter like he’s done five times in the last week.

“Are you okay?” she asks after another minute of loud cursing, poking her head out from his bedroom.

“I’m just getting it all out before the students see.”

Annabeth leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “I didn’t know they made you that mad.” Percy snorts, coming up in front of her to wrap him in her arms. He kisses her forehead before responding. “They make me livid.”

“Couldn’t possibly be as terrible as my kids,” she argues, smiling when his lips catch hers. “My calc kids can’t even do simple algebra.”

“I can’t do simple algebra,” he says, biting her lower lip. “That’s why I teach marine.”

“Marine is the most boring thing you could’ve possibly chosen to teach, but okay.”

“Says the walking calculator.”

Annabeth pinches his butt and he yelps.

“That was a compliment!”

“Make it sound like it next time,” she says, retreating back to his room. “I know that you finished teaching for the day, but I haven’t, so stay quiet.”

“That’s no fun.”

“You want to know what’s no fun? Having your students find out that you’re hooking up with their math teacher.”

Percy grins. “Is that what this is? And here I thought we were actually dating.”

“We won’t be if they find out because I will kill you,” Annabeth threatens without malice. She takes a step back to retreat into his room and he takes a step to follow her, which sends alarm shooting through her mind. “What are you doing?”

Percy has an amused smile plastered to his face, and she knows she’s about to be fighting whatever he decides to say next.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Uh, no you’re not.”

“It’s my bedroom.”

“You shouldn’t have invited me then,” Annabeth says, eyeing him as he keeps following her. “What are you, my shadow?”

“I can be whatever you want me to be, baby.”

It’s so disgustingly cheesy but it’s also so disgustingly him that she can’t help but give in as he settles down onto the bed. Percy flips onto his stomach, reaching for the pillow she’d been using the previous night as Annabeth sits at his desk. As he turns his head towards her, his eyes trace over her, and she has to pretend not to notice, as though the red flush of her face didn’t give her away.

Percy’s hand reaches out to squeeze her knee to get her attention, and she feels butterflies in her stomach. They had been together for more than a few months now, and they’d been best friends for quite a while longer, but the way he looks at her never ceased to make her feel this way.

“I’m turning the class on,” she mutters, the corners of her lips twitching up. Percy making a motion to zip his lips, making her snicker.

It’s only a minute before someone’s joining the class and Annabeth’s snickering for an entirely different reason.

“Piper,” Annabeth says, laughing. “What are you wearing?”

“I like to think that I am wearing Gucci,” Piper says, posing over the camera. “What do you think?”

Annabeth has to stifle her laughs at her favorite student. “I think it looks… very original.”

“Why do I feel like that means you think it’s trashy, Ms. Chase? Do you think it’s trashy?”

Annabeth shoves Percy’s head out of frame as he tries to sneak a peek at Piper’s outfit. “To be fair, you are wearing a trash bag.”

“I am insulted that you do not know the difference between a trash bag and a plastic tarp,” Piper says.

Percy grunts as Annabeth shoves him backwards onto the bed again in an attempt to keep him out of camera because she is almost one-thousand percent certain that Piper would recognize him, and considering they were in the middle of a pandemic, Piper would also know that they had been staying together for a while. Annabeth loves Piper, but Piper has zero filter and absolutely will make a comment if she knew.

Eventually, a few more students join, and Annabeth spends time talking to them, trying not to burst out laughing at Percy’s mouthed remarks making fun of her students.

(“Your students are dumb as hell, Annabeth.”

“You are so lucky that we are on mute.”

“How do they even mess up ten plus seven?”

“I literally don’t even know.”)

Annabeth just tries to get through the hour without walking to the kitchen, grabbing a knife, and murdering herself with it. She really loves her calculus students, but someone once said that the smartest people lack the most common sense, and boy, that could not have been more true.

She thinks she’s in the clear. She makes it through the entire lesson without blowing her cover of staying with their teacher, and it’s actually much more exhilarating than she would’ve expected. It was like she was hiding some dirty secret from them as she avoided eye contact behind the camera and tried not to awkwardly jerk around when his hand found its way back onto her knee, delicately tracing shapes.

Annabeth is so close, and just as she’s getting ready to say goodbye, Piper just has to open her big mouth.

“Ms. Chase?”

“Yes, Piper?”

“Can I ask you something personal?”

Annabeth blinks, a sense of dread settling in her stomach. She suddenly feels as though something is about to go very, very wrong. “Depending on what it is, I may or may not answer.”

Over the screen, Piper keeps a straight face, but Annabeth has taught her for over three years, and she recognizes the fire in her eyes.

“Earlier today, I had a class with Mr. Jackson. Did you know I’m in marine science?”

“I did not,” Annabeth says, strained.

“I’m in marine science, and, uh, we had class earlier today over zoom. I was talking to Mr. Jackson for a little bit after.”

“Were you? That’s nice.”

“Yeah, Mr. Jackson is a super nice teacher. I think you’d like him.”

“Do you now?”

“Mh-hm. Anyways, we were talking, and I told him that I liked the painting that was hanging behind him.”

Annabeth freezes.

“It’s the same painting that’s hanging behind you.”

Oh god.

“Do you have something to tell us?” Piper asks.

Annabeth’s ears begin to ring as she realizes that she is inevitably screwed. Of course Piper would have no shame in outing her to the entire class of seniors because that was just how Piper was, but Annabeth should’ve been smart enough not to film in the same spot because she knows her students well enough to know that there is a torment of sex jokes about to come her way.

“You’re looking a little bit red there, Ms. Chase.”

“What exactly are you implying, McLean?”

“Why are you in Mr. Jackson’s apartment?”

Annabeth is so mortified that she cannot move, but Percy seems to be just as shameless as Piper because a second later, he’s hopping into frame, smiling widely at her students.

“Hey, Piper!” Percy chirps.

“Mr. Jackson! So nice to see you! Why is Ms. Chase in your apartment?”

Percy clicks his tongue. “Now, that is a good question, but the most simple answer is that we’re quarantining — is that a word? — together.”

Annabeth sees Leo unmute himself and she immediately drops her face into her hands.

“Well, well, well,” Leo tsks. “I didn’t know we were studying chemistry right now.”

“I will make you do integrals,” Annabeth threatens.

“I’d like to see you try,” Leo has the audacity to say.

Another student unmutes themself and Annabeth recognizes the voice as Reyna’s.

“I am disgusted to find out that my teachers are dating,” Reyna says.

Percy lights up. “Reyna! You haven’t been showing up to my classes!”

“Mr. Jackson! That is because I simply do not care! Also, I would’ve preferred to not know that you two are living together.”

“Me too,” Annabeth mutters.

“Are you dating?” Piper asks. “I’ve always wanted you to date.”

Annabeth’s eye twitches. “I— no, Piper.”

“We’re not?” Percy frowns. “I thought we were.”

“They don’t need to know that,” she hisses.

Percy, always a people pleaser, pointedly kisses her on the cheek. He was always able to brush things off with a laugh, and it’s something that made Annabeth fall in love with him, but right now, it was something she thinks he would be better off without.

“They don’t care,” he dismisses, turning towards the camera. “Yes, we’re dating! We’ve been dating for six months now.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s so cute!” Piper exclaims.

“I want to throw up,” Reyna says.

Leo gives an impish grin. “I felt my relationship senses tingling.”

“Shut up, Leo, no one cares,” Piper says, rolling her eyes. “Ms. Chase! I’m so happy for you! You guys should get married.”

“Way to jump the gun, Piper,” Percy says. “Give us another six months at least.”

“Also, now that we know you two are staying together — we aren’t stupid. We know what adults do when they’re alone, so just try to keep that off camera, ‘kay?”

Annabeth is actually going to drop down to the ground and cry in about two seconds. Piper wasn’t particularly wrong in her assumptions, but Annabeth did not need her students to know about her personal life in this much detail!

“Don’t think we don’t know about what you do when you’re alone with Jason,” Percy teases, and Annabeth actually chokes on air.

“But we’re not teachers—”

“Okay!” Annabeth interrupts, ready for this to be over. The can see the rest of her students screaming in chat, and she does not want to be here to witness this any longer. “I’m going to end this call now. Please never speak of this again.”

“I will bring this up tomorrow!” Piper says cheerfully, waving at them. “I—”

Annabeth clicks off the screen immediately, and the room goes silent.

She stays there with her head buried in her hands for a while, Percy’s hand still running up and down her back. His fingers curl as he scratches her skin languidly, waiting for her to get over her initial embarrassment.

“Oh my god,” Annabeth mumbles into her hands. “That was awful.”

“It wasn’t as bad as you think it was,” he assures.

“They’re never going to let us live this down.”

“They didn’t care,” Percy says, holding back a snicker. “At least now we can kiss in front of them.”

“You’re never getting any more kisses from me,” Annabeth says, standing up from the chair to try and walk the humiliation away.

Percy grabs her wrist, tugging until she looks him in the eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

Annabeth is so flushed that she wants to die, and her students now know about her current living status and have their own conclusions as to what they do when they’re alone, but the way he’s looking at her makes her feel incredible.

She tilts her head as she looks at him and he does the same. There’s a fire in his eyes as he challenges her.

“I’m not going to kiss you right now if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Percy bites his lower lip, whole body shaking with laughter. “You so sure?”

Annabeth takes a step back as Percy takes one forwards. She finds herself cornered against the bed with nowhere to go. She turns back to face Percy, and she only has one second to prepare before he’s grabbing her and falling onto the bed beside her.

“Percy,” she says, jerking around when he started tickling her. “This isn’t — funny!”

Percy kisses her neck, fingers moving her shirt up slightly to grip her sides. “I think it’s hilarious. Your students found out you have a boyfriend. So what? You’re human.”

“Stop,” she says, snorting and jerking again as he squeezes and palms her stomach.

“Kiss me.”

Percy’s fingers stop moving along her skin as he hovers over her, looking deeply into her eyes. She feels so warm and loved, laying here with her best friend, and he’s the complete opposite of her, but maybe it’s for the best. Maybe it’s for moments like this, to balance her out.

And as she kisses him, she thinks that she can complain about her invasive students and cursed zoom calls later because the only thing that matters right now is making sure he keeps kissing her like she’s the only thing in the world.

[firstofficer-williamyiker]

Ok, ok, ok, ok. I am way too focus on this but I really really wanted to list out every Star Trek ship (from TNG, DS9, and VOY cause those are the ones I have seen most of) I could think of and give my opinion on it. Why? Because I don’t wanna do my math test. Lets go down the spiral of hyperfixation and little impulse control. (FYI, this became a long ass post, so read through if you want or don’t lol)

Let’s start from the beginning. 

The Next Generation: (aka gays that all share one smart brain cell) 

Picard x Crusher: Honestly, I like their chemistry, and if it became canon I would be alright with that. No real strong feelings on this ship.

Picard x Q: The epitome of enemies to lovers slow burn in 300k words. The sexual tension is too much to handle, I absolutely adore these two. They probably fucked once and Picard regrets it immeasurably. 

Picard x Riker: Nah, not for me. But you do you dudes.

Riker x Troi: Again, I quite like these two together. Two Bi Icons getting together, I’m here for it. 

Riker x Worf: Eh, Worf isn’t really a fav of mine so that makes me bias against this ship. It cool tho.

Riker x Crusher: *war flashbacks to when Crusher had sex with a Trill worm that was inside currently inside Riker’s body* Haha, fuck no. 

Troi x Crusher: Two queens getting together and tearing down the patriarchy, I stan.

Troi x Tasha: I tend to block out season one of TNG from my mind, but honestly, I like the vibe.

Data x Geordi: My OTP for this show. It should have happened. Rick Berman is a coward. They are just so sweet and they understand each other like no one else. A few of their scenes in this show made me cry. I ship

Data x Tasha: Nah, I don’t vibe. Would have been better as mlm and wlw solidarity. 

Worf x Troi: They had a few cute scenes together in the later seasons, I don’t hate neither super enjoy.

Deep Space Nine: (aka no straights in space)

Sisko x Kasidy: I liked them better in the early seasons. I think the writers low-key forgot about Kasidy until she was convenient plot device. 

Kira x Odo: I preferred it in the first few seasons where Odo had a little crush on Kira and it was kinda adorable. But after their relationship had become canon in the later seasons I was kinda disappointed.

Kira x Jadzia: I am here for this ship, two powerful women ready to take on the world together but also have their own insecurities that come up as the situation arises. Immaculate, I want it.

Dukat x Kira: Fuck no, they are enemies. Idk why the DS9 writers thought it would be a great idea to pair THESE two together. But thank god for Nana Visitor for being such a queen. 

Odo x Quark: Again, another amazing enemies to lovers ship. I love seeing those two on screen together, their chemistry is just *chef’s kiss*.

Miles x Keiko: Miles is like, the token heterosexual on this show. He loves his wife, his kids, and his job.

Bashir x Garak: Fuck yeah, OTP of this show for me gang. It was so heavily implied and it would have been so cool to see, especially in the 90s. But oh well, at least we got the actors writing and performing fanfiction for us.

Bashir x Jadzia: Yeah no, I wouldn’t ship them romantically. And the writers definetly did not favors to Bashir when they make his crush on her a bit creepy in the early seasons. But would be a BROTP for me.

Bashir x Ezri: Hnng, I don’t like. It just feels like Bashir is trying to date the Jadzia he never had and I don’t like it.

Jadzia x Worf: It’s fine, I guess. I don’t really see the chemistry.

Ezri x Jake: I mean, it’s better than Ezri x Bashir, but like, Dax has known Jake over 3 lifetimes and watched him grow up soooo, nah.

Jake x Ziyal: I am a fan. I think these two would have been really cool together especially since they are both artistic people with Jake’s writing and Ziyal’s painting. They could have done some really cool stuff together. Plus, it would make some interesting family reunion moments between Dukat and Sisko hehe.

Jake x Nog: Again, I am a fan. Tol and smol dynamics are what I am here for.

Garak x Ziyal: No

Voyager: (aka gays lost in space)

Janeway x Chakotay: The of the few straight ships I would die for. I am quite disappointed that nothing ever formed between the two because it would have been really cute and oh my god the tension the writers made between the two. I feel baited for this ship, AND IT’S A STRAIGHT SHIP! I’m sorry I have feelings about this. 

Janeway x Seven: Not a top ship of mine but I definitely see the chemistry here and I support it. 

Janeway x Paris: I only bring this up because in like season 1 or 2 they have axolotl children together because the writers were probably high as a kite when they came up with this idea for an episode. But a hard pass. 

Janeway x Coffee: I’m pretty sure this is already canon and I stan. 

Chakotay x Seven: I haven’t completely finished Voyager yet but I heard that this is the endgame for the two and WTF. I don’t see or understand it and it makes me upset, like really upset.

Chakotay x B’elanna: I’m just glad this wasn’t canon. I more just bring it up because I remembered B’elanna had a crush on Chakotay in the early seasons before Tom. And like, I get it because if Chakotay was my commanding officer I’d probably crush too girl. 

B’elanna x Paris: It’s a canon ship that I honestly kinda like. There are some moments where I’m like “oh no” and other where I’m like “YES”. But overall, I enjoy it. I just feel like there is something missing.

Paris x Kim: Fuck yea, I love these two together. Two bros turned lovers I am fucking here for it my dudes. But again, I feel like there is something else missing here.

B’elanna x Paris x Kim: Oh hell yea, I found what was missing. This is my personal OTP of Voyager. In my head I think Kim and B’elanna are just really close friends who do engineering things together. While Paris is in the corner, loving them both, but also setting the Delta Flyer on fire for the third time this week. I haven’t really looked into the Voyager tag (because spoilers) so idk if this is a popular ship. But I think they all have some really fun chemistry and I enjoy it. 

Paris x Delta Flyer: This just came to my head 20 seconds ago as I wrote the last one but I’m pretty sure this one is already canon. 

Kim x Seven: Nah

Seven x The Doctor: Hmm, do I dislike it as much as I do Seven x Chakotay? No, I do not. But do I like it that much? No, no I do not. I ship them as friends.

Tuvok x Nelix: No, not really. Opposites attract is not really my cup of tea all the time.

Nelix x Kes: Oh damn, I almost forgot about Kes. I know this is canon but where did this come from. The writers NEVER EXPLAIN IT! And then they never explain why the later broke up. I just... I just don’t understand. 

I doubt I have covered every ship, these were just the ones that came to me while writing this. Also, these are just my personal opinions please don’t come for my knees.

[nano--raptor]

Random Facts with Beck

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, silliness, slight cursing, implied smut, pre-smut, slight angst/alluding to heavy matters.

Word count: 1376

A/N: This got a little longer and more domestic than I planned, but I hope you enjoy! Also, don’t come at me if they don’t make tea in space, I didn’t look that much into it. Random facts and other info courtesy of asking google for them, as well as here!

Written for @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ with this prompt from @prunes-said-bucky​​ 

-----

No one said being in space would be easy, you knew that from the start. Thankfully you had great chemistry with all the crew, but it didn’t stop the homesickness and the feelings of hopelessness that started setting in. Being alone in outer space and on an alien planet with only six other humans definitely took a toll.

You and the rest of the crew had become closer than family. You’d all had your share of ups and downs, as well as chances to help pick each other up. The guys had been great, and it was awesome to have other women on board with you. But the one who surprised you the most was Chris. While the other guys were friendly and goofy, Chris seemed to go out of his way to make the others, and you especially, smile. He’d draw smiley faces on the whiteboard, even if someone was using it, or on the windows, or on the airlock doors (which Lewis hated), he’d bring you coffee in the morning, or he’d randomly interrupt silences with random facts.

“Did you guys know that penguins can drink salt water?” You looked up at him from your calculations, he sat casually in his chair at the table, absently doodling something in his notebook.

“Really?”

“Mm-hm, it helps them survive with limited access to fresh water.”

“Huh… that’s interesting.” You went back to your math, trying to work out the various equations to do with the weather and temperature of Mars.

“Isn’t it?”

“Wouldn’t that be handy for space travel…” Martinez piped up from the kitchen area.

“Assuming the water, if we even find any, is salt water.” Beck pointed his pen at him, making one of his goofy faces that always made you smile to yourself. You tried to keep it hidden, but you were pretty sure you felt Chris’ eyes on you. You felt yourself blushing and he continued. “They don’t convert the saltwater though, they just remove the salt from their blood more efficiently than we can.”

“Wow,” Martinez mused as he sat down at the table with his laptop. “Random-ass facts with Beck, everyone.” Chris grinned and held out his hands to accept the appreciation.

“I’m here all week. All mission in fact.” You groaned, but couldn’t keep the small smile off your face, and he winked back at you. The room fell silent for a while, but now you just couldn’t keep penguins off your mind.

“Dammit Beck, now all I can think about are penguins…” He laughed out loud, the sound sending warmth rushing through you.

“Which one is your favorite?” At your confused expression, he went on to list different breeds. On and on and on.

“Emperor penguin, african penguin, adelie penguin, chinstrap penguin, galapagos penguin, king penguin -”

“Dude,” Martinez tried to cut him off, shoving his shoulder from across the table. Beck laughed again and continued.

“Australian little penguin, gentoo, yellow-eyed, royal,” he dodged another swipe. “And don’t forget the rockhopper penguins.” Martinez threw a marker at him now, just as Commander Lewis walked into the room.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded, although there was a softness in her voice which made you grin again. “Martinez apparently doesn’t like penguins.” Beck quipped through his laughter. Lewis opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it, just shaking her head and looking to you with a raised eyebrow. You shrugged, rolling your eyes about the guys, and stood to meet her at the counter. “Tea?” She accepted, leaning against the counter as you started to prepare the drink.

“So? How’re you doing?” You shrugged again and handed her one of the mugs. “Okay. Can’t get this simulation to work out, but we’ll get there.” She smiled and held your gaze, saying more with her eyes than her words did, in front of the others.

“Well if you need anything, you let me know okay?” You returned her smile, thinking back to some of the late night conversations you’d had with her.

“Will do, Commander.” Lewis smiled again and lingered for just a moment, before taking her tea and leaving the common space.

“Boys.” They watched her go before breaking into a fit of giggles. You rolled your eyes again but sipped your tea, happy for the camaraderie. 

-----

Later that night you were just about to switch off your light and go to sleep when there was a light knock on your door. You opened it slightly to see Chris standing on the opposite side, dressed in a t-shirt and sweats.

“Hey you,” he greeted you quietly. “Can I come in?” You smiled softly and took his hand, gently pulling him into your room. “Of course.” You closed the door and then turned to him, pulling him towards you and brushing your lips against his. His hands fell to your waist and pulled you close, one hand raising to your chin and pulling you into a kiss, gentle and comforting. You took it all in, his warm hands and body against yours, soft lips, long eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks. It warmed you from the inside out which was exactly what you needed these days. The kiss broke and Chris leaned his forehead against yours.

“You doin’ okay?” His question echoed your commander’s from earlier, and held just as much weight. You and Chris had grown close during the mission, starting with easy conversation, and eventually growing much closer. You spent most nights together too, and it was a comfort that you were falling for, as much as you were falling for him.

“I’m okay. It just... Creeps in sometimes, you know?”

“I know,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head and pulling you close. “It’s lonely as hell out here. We’ve got an amazing crew but we’re still only a handful of people.” You hummed and leaned your heat against his chest, listening to the soothing thump of his heartbeat, letting your eyes drift close. “Come lie down.” Chris stripped his t-shirt off and crawled into the small bed, while you turned off the light and snuggled in next to him. He drew small circles on your shoulder and you did the same on his chest. His steady breathing and heartbeat helped soothe you. A lazy calm was falling over you, and you were just about to try and find his lips again when his voice broke the silence. 

“I failed to mention earlier that there are three different types of Rockhopper penguins…” “Chris, oh my god! That does not turn me on!”

“What? Random facts aren’t sexy?” He feigned hurt, and you giggled and squeaked as he pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you and capturing your lips. “I mean... they’re interesting... but no,” you answered in between kisses. His lips trailed down your throat and back again, as his hands found their way under your sleep shirt, fingering the edge of your underwear, and trailing up over your stomach to brush against the curve of your breasts. Your soft gasps soon filled the room as he held you tighter, kissed you harder, rolled his hips against yours. You needed him to get on with it already. You loved the build up so much, but you soon felt like you might burst if you didn’t get him inside of you already. You pushed yourself against him, rolling him onto his back, and straddled his hips. He moaned as you scooted lower and trailed your hands down his chest and abs, lightly brushing against the waistband of his sweats before slowly sliding them down. 

Chris growled and flipped you back over, hovering over you as he kicked the sweats off. He inched your shirt up over your head, trailing his lips along your stomach and chest. His hardness pressed against your thigh and you squirmed, aching for him already. He smiled against your skin and slowed his pace, slowly pressing kisses to your throat until his lips were right beside your ear.

“Did you know that zebras are black with white stripes, not white with black stripes?”

“Fuck sakes Chris! I am begging you. Either fuck me, or shut up!” You couldn’t help but grin as he laughed out loud and wrapped himself around you.

-----

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Pants on Fire

Ladybug AU/ After Lila decides that Adrien's implied threat has no teeth and decides not to walk back on her claims about Marinette, Marinette stays expelled. But she has absolutely no intention to let things stay that way.

Soon enough, Lila will wish that she had taken Adrien's easy way out.

links in the reblog

Across the street, the school bell rang, and the last of the Françoise Dupont students cleared off of the sidewalk and into the building. From her balcony, Marinette could see her old classmates in their homeroom, gradually making their way to their desks. Lila was still sitting in the back, but Marinette didn't doubt that before long, she would have taken over Marinette's old seat.

Day three of her expulsion from Dupont, and Marinette was (rightfully) no less bitter about it now than she had been three days ago.

Seriously, how was it fair that she got expelled without any sort of investigation? How was it legal? How had her teachers and principal even believed that Marinette would do anything like what Lila had claimed?

Did Lila have secret brain-draining superpowers that no one had found out about yet? That was the only thing that she could think of.

"At least Adrien tried to get Lila to come clean," Tikki offered as her Chosen clambered down from her balcony and headed for her desk. "I mean, I know it didn't work because Lila is too stubborn, but..."

"At least he tried," Marinette finished. She was really grateful for that, honestly. When Adrien had stopped over to check in on her the previous day, he had sounded super frustrated. Apparently Lila had somehow gotten herself invited to his photoshoots and he had confronted her then, trying to bargain the appearance of his friendship to get Lila to walk back her claims about Marinette. At the time, Lila had seemed to agree, but she hadn't followed through afterwards.

Count Marinette not surprised. If Lila walked back on any of her claims, well, that meant that all of her other claims would be questioned, and she would not want to open that door. Even if that meant irritating Adrien.

"And at least someone at Dupont knows that it was Lila's fault," Marinette added with a sigh. Not that it did anything, really, since no one would listen to Adrien, but it was still nice. "And at least he's planning on coming over again and talking to my parents today, so that they aren't just going on my word that I didn't actually do any of the stuff Lila accused me of. But that doesn't get me un-expelled."

"Well, if you can't do anything about it, maybe we should just brush it off and move on," Tikki suggested. "Mulling over it isn't going to help, and if an akuma comes again-"

Marinette hid her scowl and reached for her remote, flipping her monitor from computer screen to TV to drown out the rest of Tikki's words. She knew that it wasn't a good thing that an akuma had actually managed to get as far as corrupting her purse, even if Marinette had still had enough control at the time to start taking her earrings out so that Tikki could fly away with them. Tikki didn't have to keep reminding her that getting akumatized wouldn't be good. Marinette knew that.

(Marinette was this close to going to Master Fu without Tikki and talking to him about her kwami's constant scolding. Marinette knew that her duties as Ladybug were important, but what about the girl under Ladybug's mask? Didn't her feelings matter, too? What was she supposed to do, take a train out to the countryside so that she was out of Hawkmoth's range and only let her emotions out there? Be an emotionless robot until Hawkmoth was defeated? No thank you.)

"Don't be bemused, it's just the news!" Nadja Chamack was saying on-screen, beaming into the camera as Marinette pulled up her first lesson of the day on her tablet. "In today's news, we have extended coverage from the most recent akuma battle, updates from the mayor on proposed new recycling initiatives, and much, much more!"

Madam Chamack chatted on as Marinette started reading through her first class's lesson, determined to at least stay on top of her studies and not let herself fall behind. The online school she had gotten herself enrolled in for the time being was flexible enough that if she got a little behind schedule because of an akuma attack it wouldn't be too big of an issue, but there was no point starting off on the wrong foot.

Besides, if she could work ahead, then she could maybe have some more free time to try to make some progress on tracking down Hawkmoth. That would be making the most out of her situation, at least, and then she would be in a better position to focus on improving her designs and sewing techniques so that she could start developing a portfolio while she was in lycée.

Tikki finally settled down across the room, fiddling with some of Marinette's extra thread and beads while Marinette worked her way through the day's Literature lesson, then Math and Civics and Chemistry. The TV kept playing in the background, muted only when Marinette needed to listen to a video for her schoolwork on her tablet.

"Morning classes done ahead of schedule," Marinette said cheerfully as soon as she finished her last electron drawing. "And homework for them finished at the same time, not that there was much homework to do to start with. Time for a break, I think."

"It is almost time for lunch," Tikki agreed, flying over to join her. "You wouldn't be getting out for another half-hour at Dupont, but you've been working hard! And normally, you would have breaks between classes."

"Mm-hmm." Marinette glanced back up at her computer monitor to glance at the time, then did a double-take when she saw the screen. "Hey, I remember hearing something about this before! Tikki, can you turn up the volume?"

"-the continued fallout from the plagiarism scandal at Paris's famed university for the arts," Madam Chamack said onscreen as Tikki bumped the volume. "Another professor has been linked to the scam, which came to light after a student discovered the plagiarism. After the faculty member that she brought her concerns to didn't do anything about the issue, the student, who wishes to remain unidentified, did her own digging and found enough evidence to go straight to the police."

Marinette froze, eyes fixed on the screen as Madam Chamack kept talking, telling her viewers the timeline of what had been discovered so far. There was a lot, with faculty members at the university trying to sweep the problem under the rug all because of some rich donors who wanted to keep the flow of ideas coming to them. Three attempts from the student to let professors and administrators know that it was happening had all been swept aside with empty assurances and nothing had happened.

No one had expected the stubborn student, armed with facts and evidence to the point where she could directly get the police involved.

And Marinette's brain went aha.

There was plenty of evidence out there that Lila was lying, if only people bothered to look. The looking had been the issue at school, with everyone just taking Lila at her word instead of actually looking for themselves. Marinette didn't doubt that Lila had taken at least some steps to cover her steps- forging her mother's signature, probably, and giving incorrect email addresses that would divert to any emails to her mother to a mimic email that Lila could control- but that didn't mean that they just had to take that at face value!

But if Marinette compiled a whole pile of evidence, then- well, Marinette wasn't going to kid herself into saying that that would solve everything, either. Knowing the discipline that was given at her school, Lila would probably get a tap on the hand as punishment, and everything would get swept under the rug. But if Marinette got evidence, and then went to the proper authorities so that Ms. Buster and Mr. Damocles were forced to act, well...

That might be the exact thing she needed.

  Adrien wasn't sure what to expect when he headed over to the Dupain-Cheng bakery after school. He had waited until most of the other students had cleared off before leaving, so that Lila wouldn't see him going over and try to mess things up even more, then ducked into the bakery itself.

He had told the Gorilla that he was studying at the school for a couple hours, so hopefully he wouldn't be interrupted.

"Good afternoon, Adrien," Mrs. Cheng greeted him. She didn't sound as upbeat as she usually did, which wasn't much of a surprise considering that Marinette's expulsion was still fresh. "What can I get for you today?"

"I wanted to talk to you, actually," Adrien told her, glancing around the bakery. The collège student rush had passed, and now there was only a businessman perusing the shelves of baked goods. "About what happened earlier this week-"

Mrs. Cheng's shoulders stiffened, and her smile became a bit more wooden. "I appreciate the concern, Adrien, but-"

"Lila's a liar," Adrien blurted before she could wave him out of the bakery. "She's been making up stories left and right about knowing all these famous people ever since she arrived in Paris, and she's had it out for Marinette from the start because Marinette never fell for her lies."

Mrs. Cheng blinked at him, clearly perplexed. "Are you sure that Lila is making up her stories? Alya dropped by for a couple minutes yesterday and she seemed certain that Marinette was just jealous."

Adrien only just barely resisted the urge to snort. Marinette, jealous? Marinette was possibly the most connected person in their class, if he didn't count the connections that he and Chloe had just because of who their parents were. She designed things for Jagged Stone on at least a semi-regular basis, and Clara Nightingale knew her and liked her, and his father had complimented Marinette's designs. "I'm positive, Mrs. Cheng. Lila claimed to be Ladybug's best friend right after she first arrived in Paris, and I was there when Ladybug confronted Lila about lying. And Lila claimed that she once saved Jagged Stone's kitten on an airplane tarmac and so he's a huge fan of hers, and Marinette knows Jagged Stone. She knows that Jagged never had a kitten. And if Lila was making that up, the probability of everything else being a lie, too..."

Mrs. Cheng's expression turned pensive.

"Besides, the pendant that Lila claimed was her grandmother's is actually from my father's latest jewelry line," Adrien added. "It's a replica of the Fox Miraculous, and she bought it shortly after she arrived in Paris. And Lila claimed to have injured her ankle from falling down the stairs, but as soon as there isn't any attention on her, she's walking just fine. And the foot that she's 'favoring' keeps switching."

"And the teachers didn't notice that, or investigate?" Mrs. Cheng asked, the doubt in her voice finally starting to vanish. "It's what they're meant to do, surely."

Adrien could only shrug. He wasn't sure why Marinette's expulsion had been rushed, unless... "Lila told us that her mom's an Italian diplomat. They might have just not wanted to cause an incident."

Mrs. Cheng muttered something under her breath that Adrien didn't entirely catch, but it sounded rather like "I'll show them an incident."

...if Mrs. Cheng was going to storm over to the school to throw hands with Mr. Damocles, Adrien wanted to be there.

"Thank you for letting me know, Adrien," Mrs. Cheng finally said after a couple of seconds had passed. "I didn't want to doubt Marinette, because the accusations didn't sound like her, but I was putting too much faith in the teachers, it seems. That, and the fact that Alya seems to like Lila... well, that was a bit confusing."

Adrien nodded. He could understand that.

"You can go up to see Marinette, if you want," Mrs. Cheng added after another pause. "I mean, if she's working on her schoolwork then don't disturb her, but I'm sure she would enjoy seeing you otherwise."

"Thank you, Mrs. Cheng."

"And here, have a cookie on your way up, I know these are your favorite."

Adrien lit up as he accepted the treat. "Thank you, Mrs. Cheng!"

That mission accomplished, Adrien headed up the stairs with a bounce in his step. It seemed like Mrs. Cheng had believed him, which would hopefully help repair any strain that had appeared in the relationship between Marinette and her parents. He wasn't sure if Marinette's parents would be able to get through to Mr. Damocles any better than he had- Adrien had tried talking to their principal again today between classes, only to get immediately brushed off- but it was at least a step in the right direction.

Even with a fresh cookie to munch on, it didn't take Adrien long to reach the Dupain-Cheng living room. Marinette's trap door was propped partway open, so he headed, up, keeping his steps quiet in case she was still trying to study. Up above, he could hear Marinette's voice, a low murmur as though she were absentmindedly talking to herself.

"Okay, so either Lila was lying about her mom being an ambassador, or the pictures that she showed us of her with her mom were photoshopped," Marinette was musing aloud when Adrien popped his head in her room behind her, going completely unnoticed. She was sitting in front of the computer, intently focused on something onscreen. It didn't sound like schoolwork, though, so Adrien slipped through her open trapdoor and into her room. "Which would make sense, if she didn't want us recognizing her mom out on the street and saying anything about all of her lies, but how good would she have to be at Photoshop, really?"

"This doesn't sound like schoolwork," Adrien teased, making Marinette yelp and startle before spinning to face him. "Your mom said not to disturb you if you were still doing your lessons, but is it safe to say you've finished?"

"Finished and then some," Marinette agreed, waving him over. "Right now, I'm finding evidence."

Adrien bounced up, at her side in a moment, instantly curious. "Evidence? That Lila's lying, I'm guessing, just based on what I just overheard."

"Exactly." Marinette waved at her screen. "And right now, what I'm finding is that Mrs. Rossi isn't an ambassador. Not unless she has a different last name than Lila and isn't the same person that Lila showed us in her photos."

"I- what?" Adrien leaned over, scanning the computer screen. Marinette let him, scrolling down to let him see the rest of the page, which was apparently from the Italian Embassy's site and showed all of their top staff. Sure enough, there was no sign of the woman whose picture Lila had shown them of her mom. "That's just- wow. Uh, do any of them have, like, personal descriptions at all? You know, like get-to-know-me pages?"

Marinette shook her head. "I've already checked. They're all very professional, no personal information in sight. Which doesn't surprise me, really. I mean, if there are people out there who might have a bone to pick with the embassy for some reason, you don't want too much personal information online."

Adrien opened his mouth, then closed it. He hadn't thought of that. He also didn't understand why someone might have an issue with an ambassador to the point of wanting to target their family, but if Marinette thought that that might be an issue, then he would believe her.

"So that's a dead end for the time being," Marinette told him. "Which is fine, really, because I got a job description of what ambassadors do, which isn't what Lila has been telling people, and then this is evidence that either she's lied about her mom being an ambassador, or she's lying about what her mom looks like-"

"Or she's lying about which country her mom is ambassador for," Adrien finished. He shrugged when she gave him a dubious look. "I mean, it's possible! Then the teachers wouldn't know which embassy to contact."

"I guess. I hadn't thought of that."

"D'you think it's enough to make Mr. Damocles undo your suspension?" Adrien asked, stepping back to snag Marinette's extra chair and pulling it over to sit next to her. "Because I mean, it feels a little mean to say it, but... he sometimes doesn't seem the sharpest? And I just worry that he might try to say that Lila's other lies don't matter, just because of what they 'found' in your bag and locker."

Marinette ducked her head, clearly trying to hide a giggle. Adrien was glad that he could amuse her, at least. "I'm not planning on going over with just a little evidence. Lila could probably lie her way out of that. I want to find a ton of evidence and actually get other authorities involved. Like, Lila definitely was skipping class without permission, and there are such things as truancy officers."

...this was starting to sound serious. Like, really serious.

"That seems like a lot of work that you shouldn't have to do, Marinette," Adrien pointed out, suddenly worried for his friend. He knew that Marinette had a tendency to overwork herself, and with all of the additional stress of getting expelled, that didn't seem like a good idea. "Are you sure-"

"That I want to spend time on it? Definitely," Marinette finished. "I'm not sitting by and letting Lila get away with expelling me. It'll go on my permanent school record- getting expelled, and the cheating and the stairs and the stealing from another student. Once I get to lycée and go back to a traditional school, the teachers won't trust me at all." Her expression became determined. "So if the adults won't step up and help, then I'll make it so that they can't not help."

...Adrien hadn't thought of that before. Being expelled from the school that Marinette had gone to for years and from classmates that she had known for even longer was bad enough on its own. But the effects didn't just stop there, and that had to suck. Like, a lot.

(Adrien was going to ask Plagg to destroy Lila's homework, he really was. Maybe it was petty, but in comparison to what Lila had done? It was nothing.)

"Ooh, yeah, I didn't think about that." Adrien scooted closer, glancing at her for permission before snagging her notebook to look at her list of lies. There... well, there were a lot of them. He had kind of tuned Lila out after a point, so to be honest, he didn't remember all of them. One of the topmost bullet points caught his eye, though, and Adrien frowned in confusion. "You're trying to disprove her being abroad using her Skyping? How is that meant to work?"

Marinette grinned, perking up and snagging her tablet from next to the computer. "Yeah, I took pictures of her when she was Skyping us, and they're clear enough to make out the background behind her." She tapped a couple spots on her screen, then turned it to face Adrien. Sure enough, there was an entire folder of pictures of Lila Skyping them from a whole bunch of different places. "Aside from the fact that she definitely wouldn't get enough Internet to get be able to call us from the street- or good enough cell service to get that clear of a photo- there's no people or cars in the background. Of very main streets. Ever."

Adrien's jaw dropped, and he stared at her in admiration. He had suspected that Lila wasn't telling the full truth, of course, but he had mostly thought that she was lying about who she was meeting, not necessarily where she was. But Marinette was absolutely right. "Wow, Marinette. I didn't- I didn't even think of that! You're brilliant. So what was she in front of, then? Posters?"

Marinette nodded. "I think so. I did a little bit of searching at the time, and if she had used a greenscreen, then she would have risked a little distorted halo showing up around her. Either way, she had to get the picture from the backdrop somewhere, and I want to find it. How I'll do that I don't know, exactly, but I'll figure it out."

"Brilliant." Adrien gave her another admiring glance before turning his attention back to her list. Marinette was a lot like Ladybug, really. She noticed details that no one else did, and could pick out when things were even a little out of place. It was a talent for sure, and one that Adrien honestly wished he had.

But he didn't, so he would have to content himself with helping out the most fantastic girls in his life in whatever ways he could.

Which, at the moment, could very well be using his connections.

"I actually have Prince Ali's contact information," Adrien commented as he noticed one specific bullet point on the list. Lila had told several stories about being in contact with Prince Ali and organizing charities and events with him. Connections with an actual prince was a undeniable attention-getter, so her fascination with him was no real surprise. "We've not been in contact that often, but my father had him and his assistant over while they were in Paris. There was an idea that there might be some collaboration or publicity with Gabriel that fell through, but, well..." Adrien shrugged, bashful. "Neither of us had that many friends at that time, so we exchanged numbers. I can text him and ask about Lila's claims and if he has any suggestions for sites to look at to back up his claims." He flashed a smile at Marinette. "Because I bet we don't just want word-of-mouth, right? Since emails can be modified or faked."

Marinette looked thrilled. "Right! And I'm so glad you have a way to contact Prince Ali, because I figured- well, I figured that those lies would be the most difficult ones to disprove, since Achu seems to keep him fairly sheltered from the media and not that much information about his life gets out."

"They do, but I'm pretty sure that Prince Ali does have some official pages with information on his projects." Adrien pulled out his phone, shooting a quick text to Prince Ali before tucking it back in his pocket and turning his full attention back to Marinette. He had the better part of an hour left before the Gorilla would come looking for him, and he wanted to use that time to help Marinette as much as he could. "Okay. What else do you have on your list?"

  Things were coming together faster than Marinette had expected, she had to admit. Only days after she started collecting evidence, her parents' last lingering doubts about the validity of any of the claims against her had vanished, they had told Madam Chamack and she was preparing a story to break once Marinette said the word, and on top of that, they now had a lawyer who had listened to Marinette's detailing of everything that had happened at school. They were preparing a lawsuit against the school, because absolutely none of the required procedures for expulsion had been followed.

Like, literally none. The accusations had been flimsy and all coming from one other student, and they hadn't been investigated at all. There had been no consideration of how likely the accusations were given Marinette's stellar history, and no calling in Lila's mother to discuss the accusations. There was absolutely no sense of any procedure being followed, and considering how much behavior from Chloe the school had let slide before, well...

The favoritism there was astounding, and they couldn't let it stand.

Marinette smiled at the reminder of that meeting as she navigated her way though her online school's portal. It was really nice to have so much support from adults, after months and months and months at school where people hadn't listened to her about Lila, hadn't done anything about Chloe, had told her that really, it isn't as big of a problem as you're making it out to be.

It was a big problem, and people weren't addressing it correctly, and that was going to be fixed. It was unfortunate that it had gotten to the point where lawsuits had to get involved, but things couldn't just be allowed to continue as they were.

And this time, it wasn't entirely up to Marinette to end it. The adults would take care of all of the legal stuff, and if Marinette decided that she was tired of dealing with the situation entirely, then that didn't mean that Lila would get away with things.

Which was nice to know, even if Marinette had no intention of excusing herself from the whole thing. Lila had made life exceedingly difficult for Marinette; now, Marinette wanted to look Lila in the eye while grinding all of her lies into the ground.

...maybe she shouldn't be so focused on revenge when she was a superhero, but honestly, Lila had it coming.

Smiling to herself, Marinette clicked a couple few more times before reaching her target page. It loaded quickly, the title of her class and her current unit at the top of the page, with a little bar below it showing where she was compared to where she was meant to be.

Marinette had started slightly behind schedule- Dupont had apparently fallen behind the national standards schedule, probably because of akuma attacks interrupting their days- and now she had caught up in most subjects and already had started edging ahead in a couple classes, including this particular one.

Civics. Unit: Foreign Relations

Unit project: Create a product- a poster, a paper, or a film- on a country of your choice, documenting their relationship with France, current and historical. Exact requirements, due dates, and minimum lengths detailed below.

It wasn't a mistake that Marinette had pushed herself to get ahead in this particular class. She had looked ahead and seen this particular project coming up and, well, filming some interviews at the Italian Embassy sounded like it would fit the bill perfectly.

"Do you really think that that's necessary at this point, Marinette?" Tikki asked from where she was perched on Marinette's sewing machine. "I mean, you have enough evidence to prove that Lila has hardly been truthful and shouldn't be trusted, and even if she tries to wriggle her way out of it, it's not going to work. Not with a truancy officer alerted and on her trail. Once an accusation has been filed, they will investigate it until they're satisfied. It's going to take more than a couple fake tears and excuses for them to drop it."

"Honestly, this bit is mostly because I'm still curious." Marinette sat back in her chair, scanning over the project guidelines. "Like, I know that Lila needed a backstory that would make it plausible that she could have met a bunch of famous people and be traveling all of the time, but why the Italian Embassy? Was that picture really of her mom? I just- I want to nose around a little. Besides, more evidence is always a good thing, and it doubles as a school assignment, too!"

"A school assignment that isn't due for weeks," Tikki pointed out. "You know what your mom told you, about not burning yourself out by overworking!"

Marinette shrugged, even as she made a few notes about things that she would have to do before filming- looking up some basic history about France-Italian relations, reaching out to a couple ambassadors to see if she could interview them, and seeing if she could check out some decent video camera and microphone equipment from the library were on the top of her list, along with coming up with questions that would hit all of the needed points plus a couple extra. "I mean, I think I'll be fine, especially because, well, I don't think I'm going to get invited to any get-togethers with the girls this week. Alya seemed pretty ticked with me when she left yesterday. So I'll have a lot of free time, probably."

Tikki made a face at that. "I suppose. But you still have Adrien coming over every day! It's not like you aren't speaking to any of your old classmates."

Marinette ducked her head, unable to hide her smile. Adrien had been spending a lot of time with her, and every afternoon they spent together made it that much easier for her to speak to him and see the time as hanging out as friends, not as a potential lead-up to a date. She could enjoy their time together fully, instead of being strung out and on edge.

It didn't take long for Marinette to get fully back into her schoolwork, continuing her slow edging forward ahead of the schedule. Despite her kwami's (and her mother's) worries, she really wasn't overworking herself. Pushing herself, maybe, but really, all Marinette was doing was putting her best foot forward and going at her own pace. It was just that her own pace was fast.

It was just that in class, they always had to slow down when someone didn't understand what was going on, which- well, in some classes, it could be pretty often. Then there were disruptions from people asking questions (or making comments about the famous people they had "met" that were somehow meant to be relevant to whatever they were doing) or having arguments, and the time spent handing out and collecting papers. There were breaks between classes, and even some classes where they ended up with extra, wasted time at the end of their class when they finished something early and didn't have enough time to start something new. That added up to a lot of time, it turned out, and with someone who was properly motivated, getting ahead in classes was a piece of cake.

Marinette was properly motivated. So motivated, in fact, that she completely missed Adrien calling her name from downstairs before coming up into her room, hair in disarray with sweat after his fencing lesson and backpack slung haphazardly over his shoulder.

"That doesn't look familiar. You must have passed us, then."

Marinette yelped, startling and whipping around. Adrien just looked amused at her reaction, pulling up his usual chair next to her. "Am I right?"

"Yeah, I'm working ahead," Marinette admitted, glancing back at her screen. "It gives me something to do. And when the curriculum was made, I think they factored in some interruptions during class, and I don't really have that. I mean, we had a meeting with a lawyer today, but that was kind of over lunch anyway so I didn't fall behind."

Adrien blinked, puzzled. "A lawyer?"

"My mom was talking to Madam Chamack, because they're friends, and she said that it would be the best idea," Marinette told him. "It'll get my expulsion cleared for sure, and will address some of the ongoing problems at the school."

A flash of uncertainty crossed Adrien's face and he started worrying at his lip. "So Ms. Bustier and Mr. Damocles will be getting in trouble, too, not just Lila?"

She had suspected that Adrien might have trouble with that. Marinette had too, because she had known Ms. Bustier for years now and for the most part, had enjoyed her as a teacher. But, well, it was impossible to ignore all of the serious missteps that Ms. Bustier had made. "Yeah. But if it was just Lila getting in trouble, then what happens down the road if another liar shows up, or just another bully in general, and they just keep doing the same thing where there aren't any punishments? I could handle it, but I couldn't always, and, well..."

"And not everyone is as resilient and brave as you," Adrien finished, the uncertainly on his face starting to ebb away. "And not everyone is as willing as you to stand up and fight, or help classmates. I know if it was me that Lila had targeted, I- well, I might try protesting, but I don't think it would go very far. I would end up homeschooled again for sure, and never get to go back to public school again."

"I think the rest of us would protest, and I would definitely go after Lila just like I am now," Marinette assured him. "But for kids in the future who might not have that- well, I don't want injustice to go unchecked. I'm not going to be surprised if someone gets akumatized over this, but better one or two people now than a whole slew of people in the future."

Adrien nodded, letting out a slow breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I can understand that. It makes sense, I was just surprised." He worried his lip, then perked up. "Oh, I meant to tell you right away- I think that Madam Mendeleev has caught on that Lila isn't telling the truth, because she isn't being as lenient with Lila as she used to be. She's not giving any accommodations whenever Lila tries to claim that she needs them because of some condition or another, and she's told Lila off about story time in her classroom."

Marinette giggled. "Oh, I would love to see that. I bet Lila is pretty mad about that."

"She's whined plenty, but I don't think that it's going to do much. Not if she doesn't have a doctor's note to back all of her 'conditions' up, and not when Madam Mendeleev has actually had students with some of the conditions that Lila has claimed before." Adrien grinned. "The look on Lila's face at that- oh, you should have been there. Al- some of the other classmates were scandalized that she was questioning a medical condition, and there was a whole thing- actually, I can see how you're getting so far ahead of us," Adrien interrupted himself with a snort. "Ten minutes of class, gone, just because of, uh, people pulling up sources on accommodating disabilities and trying to talk over Madam Mendeleev until they got sent to the office."

"Why do I get the feeling that you were referring to Alya?" Marinette asked with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. "Now she decides to go for her sources. She won't even entertain the idea of looking up sources for Lila's claims or for some of the stuff she posts on the Ladyblog, but the moment that someone questions Lila..."

Adrien quirked an eyebrow at her. "Should- should I ask?"

"Alya came over yesterday to update me on her 'investigation' and I commented on the fact that she wasn't even looking at Lila as a possibility even though she was the one leveling all of the accusations, and she got really ticked at me," Marinette told him. "She said something about making accusations without any evidence and being obsessed with Lila and then stormed out."

Adrien spluttered. "She- you- she accused you of making accusations without evidence? But you have a literal pile of evidence right over there- it's not hidden or anything! Like, it's super-obvious! How did she miss that?"

Marinette could only shrug. "You know Alya. When she gets focused on one thing, she just turns oblivious to everything else."

"That's frustrating." Adrien reached over to squeeze her hand comfortingly, flashing her a small smile. "I'm sure she'll be kicking herself once everything comes out."

"Yeah, especially because of the latest interview I got." Marinette reached forward, picking up the flash drive sitting next to her computer and waving it at him. "I got a brief interview with Ladybug, and she confirmed that the first time she heard of Lila was when she saw the video on the Ladyblog, and that she saw Lila throw away your father's book, and that she was in Paris on Heroes' Day, and that she's maliciously interfered with akuma battles before."

"Ooh, nice," Adrien said appreciatively. "That must have been hard to get, but that'll be good. And also a good way to point out to Alya that she literally didn't check anything."

Marinette could only smile. Actually, once she had gotten things set up, it had been quite easy to get the video. All she had really needed to do was record herself asking the questions, pitching her voice a little higher than usual, and then play them back while Ladybug answered the questions, doing her best to make it sound like she hadn't practiced already and pitching her voice slightly downwards.

The Miraculous would protect her identity no matter what, but there was no point in risking someone noticing that her voice and Ladybug's were incredibly similar.

"Are you almost done with evidence-collecting, do you think?" Adrien asked Marinette, giving the flash drive one last look before turning his attention to Marinette. "I mean, the sooner you break the news, the sooner you can come back."

Marinette winced. This was the news that she hadn't been looking forward to breaking. "Actually, I, uh..."

Adrien practically wilted. "You're not coming back?"

"My parents are really furious at the school," Marinette admitted. "We've been talking a lot, and I maybe hadn't told them everything that had been happening at school over the past few years with bullying and discipline, and- well, they said that unless there were significant changes, they don't want me going back. I'll be rejoining everyone in lycée," she added quickly before Adrien slouched straight off of his chair. "Which isn't that far off, really, in the grand scheme of things. And I can hang out with the class whenever, and if you want to come over like you are now, or over lunch..."

"So it's not like we won't be seeing you at all," Adrien finished, scooting closer to her. "I was worried about that."

Marinette flashed a smile at him. She was going to miss hanging out with people between classes, but sacrifices had to be made if she wanted to fully capitalize on her temporary homeschooling and it wouldn't be forever. "Right. I'll be right across the street, available to hang out. It's not the end of the word."

"And it gives me a reason to look forward to lycée," Adrien added on. He glanced at her computer screen, which still had her online school portal up. "And I was right, wasn't I? About you being ahead of Dupont now?"

"It wasn't hard," Marinette admitted. "You guys are behind, and when I work at my own speed, I can cover more than a day's work. So that's another reason it wouldn't really make sense for me to go back, because I'll be so far ahead. And it's probably going to be another week at least, because all of the legal stuff takes some time to put together and file."

Adrien nodded, still looking a bit let down. Clearly he had been hoping that Marinette would be returning to school soon, and as much as that made Marinette's heart race, she couldn't change her plans. "Right."

"But enough depressing stuff," Marinette decided, shutting her notebook and closing the school website before grinning up at Adrien. "Wanna play Mecha Strike?"

"That sounds perfect."

  Marinette headed up the steps of the Italian Embassy, a spring in her steps. It hadn't taken long to set up an appointment to interview an ambassador and a couple other staff members at the embassy, and they were more than willing to spend a few minutes with her. She had promised not to take up too much of their time- after all, they had important work to do- and now she was arriving early, just to make sure that something like a delayed bus wouldn't make her late.

Not that she would have allowed a delayed bus to make her late. After all, Ladybug could cross Paris faster than any bus could, so if it had come to that, she would have just transformed and raced across the rooftops. It wouldn't be ideal- she didn't want Chat Noir to see her out and about and interrupt his school day because he thought that there was an akuma- but the option was still there.

"So I'm meeting with Ambassador Bianchi in ten minutes and Monsieur Moretti after that," Marinette told Tikki as she mounted the last few steps and headed for the door. "I tested all of the equipment last night, so that I know how it works and that it works. I checked to make sure that all of my previous footage was off, so I have plenty of space. Tikki, am I forgetting anything?"

"No, I don't think so!" Tikki chirped, sticking her head out of Marinette's purse briefly before vanishing back inside. "You're all set, Marinette!"

Giving a determined nod, Marinette pulled open the door, stepping inside the embassy. A cheerful lady at the welcome desk gave her directions to the ambassador's office, and Marinette strode as confidently as she could down the hallway and up the stairs to the second floor. There were more than a couple people wandering down the halls chatting in Italian, and Marinette caught flashes of conversations as she passed them.

It wasn't hard to find the ambassador's office- the embassy had good signage, she would give them that- and Marinette stepped in the open door, coming to a stop in front of Ambassador Bianchi's secretary's desk, where a oddly familiar woman sat.

Lila's mother. And it definitely was Lila's mother because behind her, pinned to a very full corkboard, was a picture of Lila and her mom together with an older couple.

Well. Maybe Lila had been lying about her mother being an ambassador or in any sort of top diplomatic position, but she was at least at the Italian Embassy.

"Ah, you must be Ambassador Bianchi's eleven o'clock appointment," Mrs. Rossi said, giving Marinette a friendly smile. "She said something about a student project?"

"Yes, I'm on my Foreign Relations unit right now and we're supposed to do a project on France's relationship with another country. My Nonna is Italian, so..." Marinette shrugged. It wasn't an entire lie. Even if Lila hadn't been in the picture, Marinette probably would have picked Italy to research. That, or China. "I decided to learn a bit more about the country that side of the family is from."

"How lovely!" Mrs. Rossi exclaimed. She smiled at Marinette. "Now, if you want to take a seat over there to wait, the ambassador will be about five minutes."

"Okay," Marinette said automatically, then paused. Maybe she already had all of the evidence she needed to get Lila in very deep trouble, but she couldn't deny that she was really curious about Lila's mom and what exactly was going on there. "Or, actually- if you're busy or don't want to, that's fine, but could I maybe interview you about what you do at the embassy as well?"

Mrs. Rossi perked up. "Oh, I think I can spare a few minutes for that! I never really get asked about what I do," she confided as Marinette quickly pulled out her camera and attached the microphone to it. "Which I can understand, because everybody always talks about the ambassadors and the ministers and they get the spotlight, but there's plenty of staff behind the scene who make the entire place run smoothly. There's a lot of work involved- I work overtime most days, but that's also because I'm still getting used to this job."

Marinette nodded as she checked both mic and camera to make sure that they were running. "When I was reading up on what an embassy does, it certainly sounded complicated! It's not a huge surprise that there are people behind the scenes making sure that everything gets done."

"It might surprise you how many people that information does surprise." Mrs. Rossi considered Marinette again, pausing. Marinette tried to not stiffen up. Had Mrs. Rossi realized who she was? "Forgive me for prying, but I'm curious- shouldn't you be at school right now? Did they give you a pass so that you could do the interviews?"

Marinette shook her head, feeling herself starting to relax. Maybe Lila had decided that her mom might be suspicious or decide to move her to another school if she reported any problems- real or imaginary- to her and so hadn't mentioned Marinette at all. "I'm being homeschooled at the moment- or, rather, I'm enrolled in an online school for the rest of collège."

"Oh, that's quite nice," Mrs. Rossi commented, perking up. "And smart, considering the akuma attacks here in Paris! My daughter's collège was closed for several months because of akuma attacks there- or maybe it was just one akuma who was taking forever to defeat, I don't remember- and I do worry about how that's going to impact her education. I'd have her switch schools, but I worry that other schools would have the same problem and the one she's at is quite highly rated." She sighed. "And Lila seems to have made quite a few friends there, and she's gotten a boyfriend, so I don't want to make her switch and I hadn't had the time to look into other options anyway."

...okay, this was interesting. It also answered the question of how Lila's mom hadn't noticed her skipping school for months on end, but Marinette was really wondering how busy Mrs. Rossi was if she hadn't even looked into Lila's claims. One simple Google search, and she would have found out that no such long-term akuma existed.

She also had questions about the boyfriend claim. Something told Marinette that Lila had probably claimed that she was dating Adrien, who was likely to be less than happy about that claim.

"Huh, I hadn't heard any news about any collèges being closed because of akuma," Marinette said instead of questioning anything, shrugging one shoulder. "Odd. But getting back on track..." She made a show of getting the camera properly lined up, then peered over the top. "Can you tell me what you do here at the embassy?"

  Marinette was prepared.

Over the past couple of weeks, with Adrien's help and a bit of an assist from her family's lawyer, she had debunked pretty much all of Lila's lies. She had printed out pages of evidence and compiled video clips from the interviews she had done on flash drives. The lawsuits- both against the school and against Lila specifically- had just been filed, and Madam Chamack would be breaking the story that morning, while Marinette went in to confront Ms. Bustier and Lila.

Everything was ready, all of her evidence packed into her bag the previous evening, and Marinette was doing breathing exercises while waiting to head into the school. Her family's lawyer, several members of the school board, a substitute teacher, and a truancy officer were all waiting downstairs in the bakery, and would be accompanying her over.

A ding from her phone caught Marinette's attention, and she pulled it out of her purse. On-screen, there was a message from Adrien.

Looking forward to seeing you! You'll do great :)

Smiling, Marinette tapped out a quick reply before sending it and heading downstairs. Nerves were really building in her stomach now, but she pushed them back down. She had faced akumas and supervillains before. This would be a piece of cake.

"The bell has rung," Madam Rochefort commented, glancing up from her tablet. "Let's head over in five, to give people time to settle down."

Ms. Boutin flashed a grin at Madam Rochefort. "It's so odd, seeing you deliberately planning to make a scene during classes. Normally you're all about pulling teachers aside before or after school."

"They decided to make the accusations and expulsion a public spectacle, so I'm not going to grant them the privilege of resolving their problems in private." Madam Rochefort smiled at Marinette. "And I certainly couldn't deny Miss Dupain-Cheng here the satisfaction of throwing all of her evidence in her class's face."

Marinette smiled at that. She had been a little worried with all of the officials that had gotten involved that she wouldn't be able to carry out her (admittedly somewhat petty) plan, but they had been willing to accommodate her.

Five minutes later, they were marching over to the school. Ms. Boutin knocked on the large doors sharply, then stepped back to wait for an answer. Seconds later, Mr. Haprèle opened the doors, annoyed look giving way to confusion.

"Good morning, we're from the school board," Madam Rochefort announced, ushering Marinette in ahead of her and flashing her ID at . "We've come to speak to a couple of the teachers and your principal."

Mr. Haprèle nodded, stepping to the side to let them in even as the confused look stayed on his face. Marinette led the way up to Ms. Bustier's classroom, excitement mounting in every step.

She could do this. Everything was labeled so there was no chance of her messing anything up. There was no need to go into detail for anything if she didn't want to. For once, other people could exert some actual effort and look at the evidence she had helpfully gathered for them instead of her having to explain each and every piece.

"Go get 'em," Ms. Boutin told Marinette, patting her arm. "And we're right here, waiting for our cue. They won't be able to ignore you this time."

Nodding, Marinette put on her Ladybug face, then turned towards the door. With one last deep breath, she shoved open the door, sending it flying open and drawing every student's eye to her as she strode into the classroom, confidence in every step.

"Marinette!" Ms. Bustier exclaimed, rising from her desk at the front. There was a frown on her face. "What are you doing here? You've been expelled, you're not allowed on school property, especially during school hours-"

Marinette's fierce expression cut her off. "Actually, I'm here to contest my expulsion. I think you'll find that none of the requirements for expulsion were even met. Additionally-" Marinette started digging in her bag, a frown flashing across her face as she realized that it might be a bit difficult to pull things out of her bag.

"I can hold your bag, Marinette!" Adrien offered at once, sliding out of his seat and coming up front to join her, taking her bag and flashing her an encouraging smile. You've got this.

"Thank you, Adrien." Marinette returned his smile, then returned to her earlier intensity. "As I was saying- no procedure was followed. The decision to expel me was entirely based on claims made by a lying, thieving, completely untrustworthy liar."

Lila gasped theatrically from her seat, which- surprise, surprise- was now next to Alya, in Marinette's old spot. "You're still trying to call me a liar? Just because you're jealous-"

Marinette cut her off, pulling the first stack of packets out of her bag while staring Lila down. "Evidence that Lila was lying about saving Jagged Stone's cat and knowing him at all. Almost all of which is public information, if anyone had bothered to look." She slammed the first packet down on Ms. Bustier's desk. "That she was lying about knowing Prince Ali." Another slam. "And that literally all of her supposed involvement in charity work and other organizations is a lie, as are all of the other connections that she claimed to have and that I'm not even going to dignify naming."

This slam was even louder. There were several flinches around the room. Lila was starting to look a little less confident, her eyes darting towards Ms. Bustier.

"And, most importantly." Marinette's eyes flashed back to Ms. Bustier, who was looking very taken aback. "Which the teachers here really should have looked into properly, instead of just blindly believing Lila. She was lying about being out of Paris at all and was using posters as her background when she called us, which should have been obvious to anyone with eyes, because there were exactly zero pedestrians or cars behind her. I found all of the posters she used with a very simple reverse photo search."

There were gasps at that, and Ms. Bustier pressed a hand to her chest, looking over at Lila.

"Additionally, as if the posters weren't enough, I have interviews with both Ladybug and Mrs. Rossi that confirm that Lila was in Paris for the entirety of the time that she claimed to be traveling." Marinette reached in the bag one more time, pulling out her flash drive. Lila had gone pale at that, and oh, it was so satisfying. "Those were both very interesting, actually. Ladybug told me that the first time she had ever heard of Lila was when she saw the Ladyblog video where Lila was claiming to be her best friend, and that Lila has hated her for calling her out of the lies. Additionally, Lila has deliberately gotten in the way of the superheroes during akuma battles in order to sabotage them, and she was in Paris on Heroes' Day as Volpina, who made the illusions of Ladybug and Chat Noir fighting."

There were gasps at that. Marinette was not done.

"And on top of that, Ladybug saw Lila throwing a book into the trash- a book that Lila stole from Adrien." Marinette's eyes narrowed at Lila, whose mouth was opening and closing wordlessly. "Because she had gotten what she wanted out of it, also known as the fake Fox Miraculous that she had just bought from a Gabriel shop."

"Which, I might add, she tried to pass off as the real Fox Miraculous right away," Adrien chimed in from next to her. "And that necklace was the same one that she said was from her grandmother and she claimed that Marinette stole."

"And, if that isn't enough, Mrs. Rossi thought that Lila was staying home because the school was closed due to an extended akuma attack," Marinette finished, a smirk flashing across her face at the look of pure panic that flashed across Lila's face. Clearly she had thought that Marinette was bluffing about meeting her mother."Because Lila told her that the principal was akumatized and therefore the school was closed." Against her better judgment, Marinette's eyes flashed towards Alya for a moment. "How's that for research and evidence, hmmm?"

"I- no-" Lila attempted, clearly scrambling to pull herself together. "That is- a misrepresentation of what- Marinette is just making things up, she's just jealous and bitter that I didn't let her bully me-"

"I have video evidence, Lila," Marinette told her, using her best cold, no-nonsense, I-am-a-superhero-and-you-WILL-listen-to-me voice. She could see several people shrink back, intimidated. "And an entire pile of evidence to disprove your other lies. And..." She reached into her bag for her final folder, opening it up and pulling out another packet before striding over to Lila and slapping it down on the desk in front of her. "A lawsuit against you, for slander with malicious intent."

"But Lila can't get in trouble with the law," Max protested from the back of the room. "She has diplomatic immunity because of her mother."

Marinette smirked at that. Lila was really wilting now. "Top diplomats might get diplomatic immunity for their families, sure. But the secretary for the ambassador certainly doesn't get immunity for her family."

There were gasps at that.

"Additionally, diplomatic immunity can be waived by the family member or the home country even if it did apply," Mr. Bernard announced, stepping into the classroom. "Which we have seen before, and if it had applied in this case, I'm sure we would see it again."

"Who are you?" Ms. Bustier asked, stepping forward. "This all seems like a lot of disruption, we are a school-"

"I am a truancy officer, and Ms. Rossi here is in quite a bit of trouble. Skipping multiple months of school is definitely grounds for punishment, particularly when I suspect that she forged her mother's signature on the school leave forms." Mr. Bernard flashed a doubtful look at Ms. Bustier. "If, of course, there was even an attempt at following procedure in that case."

Ms. Bustier flushed. "We- we were told it was a very last-minute trip, and that Mrs. Rossi was quite busy, and we wanted to be accommodating, so we waited until after the return to really push for ..."

"Procedure is not optional. It is there for a reason, to keep things like this from happening." Mr. Bernard did not look impressed, but he jerked his chin at Lila. "Ms. Rossi. Your mother has been contacted and is on her way. Collect your things at once."

Lila glanced around frantically, rather like a cornered rabbit, but all of her classmates were glaring at her. Slowly, she gathered up her things, picking up the lawsuit notice last, and then headed out after Mr. Bernard, dragging her feet the entire way.

There was a pause.

"It- well, it seems as though I owe you an apology, Marinette," Ms. Bustier finally said, sinking back into her seat. "I should have looked into things more thoroughly instead of letting them slide. I'll get your expulsion wiped off of your record at once, and you can return right away."

"Actually, I won't be returning to Francois-Dupont," Marinette informed her, ignoring the gasps from the class in favor of fishing out the last of her forms and setting it on Ms. Bustier's desk. "My parents don't think that the environment here is conducive to my learning experience, and they don't trust that there will be enough change in the remainder of the year to satisfy them."

Ms. Bustier reached across the desk for the form at once, her eyes going wide as she took in the top page. It was another lawsuit, this one against the school for not following proper procedure for expulsion and for failing to protect their students from a bully.

Marinette had been a little unsure about the last bit, but the school board had pointed out that, had any of the teachers looked into things, Mr. Bourgeois didn't actually have the power to punish the school for properly disciplining Chloe, and even if they couldn't be bothered to look that much up, they at the very least could have separated Chloe and Marinette into different homerooms instead of placing them together for so many years in a row. It wouldn't have been possible to place them in different classrooms every year- after all, Chloe bullied everyone- but getting a break every other year shouldn't have been too much to expect.

Having adults standing up to Chloe instead of leaving students to do that themselves shouldn't have been too much to expect, either.

"I'll be rejoining the class for lycée, but not before," Marinette added, because she could hear Rose starting to sniffle. "And I can hang out with you guys whenever, but my parents aren't at all happy with the administration here."

Rose managed a small smile when Marinette glanced her way, nodding in understanding.

"Speaking of people being unhappy with the administration, we need to speak to you, Ms. Bustier," Madam Rochefort announced, sticking her head through the door. She stepped aside to let the substitute teacher who they had brought in. "We'll go to Mr. Damocles' office, if you could."

Ms. Bustier nodded, even paler as she followed Madam Rochefort out. Marinette took that as her cue to leave as well, tucking her empty folder back into her bag and taking it back from Adrien. He was smiling at her, proud and a little sad at the same time.

"We'll miss seeing you during class," Adrien murmured in her ear as he slid Marinette's bag over her head, arranging it at her side before pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head. "But I know I'll visit as often as I can. For both the company and the food."

"Our door is always open for you," Marinette promised, trying not to flush and probably failing. Adrien was too cute for her blood pressure sometimes. "And you have my number, too. If you want to come over during lunch, too, you can."

Adrien perked up at that as he escorted her to the door. "I might end up never leaving if you keep inviting me over, just so you know."

Marinette giggled. As though she would actually ever complain about that. "We'll make up a bed for you."

"Very tempting." Adrien smiled at her, then glanced back into the classroom. The substitute teacher was looking back at him. "I have to go, but see you later?"

"Of course." With a final wave, Marinette stepped back, watching Adrien head back into the classroom before turning herself and heading back out of the school. She was by herself now, the school board members and lawyer and truancy officer all busy, but that didn't matter. She had done what she had come to school to do. The expulsion would be wiped from Marinette's record, and the faculty at Dupont would be given the help and training they needed to be far better teachers for the next set of students to come through and all of the students after them, too. On top of that, Lila had been taken down, her following gone and her reputation in shatters. With any luck, she would be removed from Paris entirely in order to keep her from getting akumatized again.

Hopefully her next set of teachers would be given a heads-up about Lila's tendency to make up stories so that no one else would have to go through the same thing that Marinette just had.

Humming to herself, Marinette paused at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. She had taken down one schoolyard bully and made life in Paris just that little bit better for everyone.

And now that that was over... well, now that she had more free time, she could turn her attention to a much bigger target. Hawkmoth had better beware, because before long, Ladybug was going to be on his case.

[ecto-american]

If Found Please Return to Danny Phantom

Phic Phight Oneshot for @imperfection-at-itsfinest: When Jack manages to get his hands on Danny Phantom's ghost hunting logbook, an investigation reveals some information about ghosts and the infamous specter himself that a scientific study would never cover.

Read on FFN and AO3

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It would be wrong of him to read it. 

Jack kept staring at the book in his hands. It resembled a diary, the front design being colorless but a pressed design. The moon with stars, with no words, and the diary itself felt unusually thin. There was no lock, as if it was almost inviting him to just read it. Jack had, in fact, already opened to the first page, and the first words greeted him. In a standard font read: If Found, Please Return to: and the name scrawled, in surprisingly tidy handwriting, was the name Danny Phantom.

What an absolute find. It was pure dumb luck. He had seen Phantom drop it, but Jack had went looking for it in hopes that the ghost teen had dropped one of the stolen Fenton gadgets. Only to recover...this book that he had taken home and into the privacy of his lab for study.

The idea of Phantom keeping a diary was kinda funny. He never struck Jack as the type to write down his deepest darkest secrets or teenage embarrassments in a book. That would imply that the ghost had some kind of emotions. They didn’t. They were blobs of ectoplasmic energy.

So it should be okay for him to read, right? Why was he so hesitant? Well...it was an invasion of privacy. But it was fine. Phantom dropped it in the park. Phantom was a menace to society. There was likely evidence in this journal that could explain all of the ghost boy’s terrible deeds, that could prove that he truly was evil. This diary could change everything.

...Jack had children though, and he knew both were avidly creative. Scrapbooking, drawing, painting, writing. They were stress outlets for his girls, and he wouldn’t ever dare dream of invading their privacy like that. So he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Phantom deserved privacy, right?

“Jack? Are you coming to dinner?” Maddie’s voice snapped him from his thought process. She hadn’t made a noise as she came down the stairs. But Maddie was a much better stealth hunter than him.

“Yes, yes! Sorry, I was distracted,” Jack apologized. He set the book down on the table. Maddie rose an eyebrow at him.

“Did you get a new ectobiology book?” she asked. His eyes glanced to the book, and he shook his head no. Maddie came over to him, studying the book cover. Of course, it didn’t resemble any of the scientific texts that they owned. 

“I don’t know how to explain it…” Jack said slowly. He held it out to her. Maddie accepted it.

“This looks like it belongs to the kids,” she stated. She opened the first page, and Jack saw her eyes widen. Her breath hitched, and she looked up to him “Jack...where did you...get this?”

“He dropped it during a fight,” he replied. “I thought it was Fenton tech, but…”

Her eyes sparkled, and she shut the book. A wide grin had appeared, and she threw her arms around her husband.

“Oh Jack! This could teach us so much! If this really is a journal or some kind of diary, then he may have recorded motivations! Thoughts! We can really get into how Phantom thinks and a raw, honest, firsthand account from Phantom himself! This changes everything!”

She was right. She was absolutely right, and he hugged her back. They were scientists first and foremost, and this journal could fill in so many missing blanks about ghosts. It was a starting off point. Jack’s mind raced with all the things they could possibly learn. Just from a simple peek of the book. That was worth more than the invasion of privacy of a ghost that caused so much havoc, destruction and pain. 

“We should look at it right now!” he exclaimed. Maddie pulled away with a small frown.

“After dinner,” she reminded him. “I finally got everybody corralled upstairs for a family dinner. It’s nearly impossible to get either of the girls at the same time.”

“Oh, right!” Jack nearly slapped his forehead. Yes, they were scientists first and foremost, but before even that, they were Mom and Dad. “First thing after dinner.”

“First thing after dinner,” she agreed with a smile. 

Upstairs, he saw that Jazz was already serving herself. Chicken, mashed potatoes and peas. His youngest was pouring iced tea into glasses for everybody. 

“Hey Ghost-kateers!” Jack greeted cheerfully with a grin. Both kids groaned in embarrassment. Perfect. 

“Daaad!” his youngest complained, a whine hitching as she put the pitcher of ice tea back. “I told you, if I’m going to be some kind of ye olde soldier type, I wanna be a knight, like at the renaissance fair.” 

“Ah, but if you’re a ghost-kateer, you can get an anti-ghost musket!” Jack teased. As he walked past her to get his own food, he playfully ruffled her pixie-cut hair. She waved his hand away. 

“But as a ghost knight, I can get a cool sword!” she protested. Jack shook his head in fake disappointment. 

“Never bring to a ghost sword to a ghost musket fight, baby boo,” her dad replied.

“Can’t shoot what you can’t see!” she shot back with a grin. Jack had to hand it to her, and he just chuckled. 

“Can we please have a ghost free dinner?” Jazz scowled. 

“Yes, yes, let’s save ghosts for after dinner,” Maddie agreed. Jazz shot her a grateful look, and Jack focused on getting his serving of dinner from the stove. His youngest pushed her sleeves up, exhaling. Jack stole a look at her and frowned. She had some sweat collected on her forehead.

“Honey if you're hot, you can just take your sweatshirt off,” he told her. She shook her head no.

“No, I'm fine,” she insisted. Jack was skeptical.

“You sure?” he asked. 

“Mhm!” 

Jack shrugged a bit. She was always insisting on wearing a hoodie, no matter the weather. If she got hot enough, she’d take it off. No need to force it. He got his food and took his seat.

“How's school going?” Maddie questioned. Jazz lit up a bit, and her sister flinched. She raised a suspicious eyebrow at her youngest.

“I managed to get a B on my chemistry test,” the youngest spoke up with a forced smile.

“That’s excellent!” Maddie’s demeanor shifted as she smiled warmly. “Keep it up!” 

“Yeah!” The youngest seemed to visibly relax. “Sam’s been helping me study.”

“That’s good, I always studied better when V-man or your mom helped me,” Jack nodded at her as he cut up his chicken. 

“Oh it’s true, I used to help your father study for all of our shared classes,” Maddie confirmed. “Otherwise he’d get so distracted.”

“Yeah, Sam just explains it super well,” their daughter agreed. “Tucker’s been going over math with me a bit, which helps some.”

“Well if you need a tutor, just let us know, and we’ll help you arrange one,” Maddie smiled. “What about you, Jazz?”

“Pretty good,” she replied. “Mr. Lancer asked if I wanted to be his TA this summer, which I really do. It’ll look good on a college application, and I might even get paid!”

“Have you been narrowing down where you might wanna go?” Jack asked. Jazz eagerly nodded.

“Yeah! Oxford is my number one choice, but I also would love to go to Yale or Stanford. I’ve been talking with the college counselor about what else might look good on an application for them that I can do over the summer. I wrote them down in my planner notebook earlier-”

“Hey, that kinda reminds me,” her sister interrupted. “Have you guys seen one of my notebooks? I think I lost it,” she asked them. Jack stared at her. The reminder of the notebook he actually had found. Maddie seemed unbothered by the question. This wasn’t unusual, for the parents to have to play “where’s my stuff?” with the kids. 

“What notebook?” Jazz asked hesitantly. 

“My important one,” came the reply. Jazz frowned lightly. 

“Sorry, princess, haven’t seen any notebooks laying around,” Jack replied. He saw the briefest of a cringe cross his youngest’s features. “Did you leave it at school?” Her shoulders slumped.

“I don’t think so?” she said hesitantly. “I’ll have to check tomorrow. I was so sure I had it earlier…” Her voice trailed off before she forced a smile. “If you see it, let me know!” She picked up a forkful of chicken, only to freeze. The clattering made Jack glance up curiously as she was turning her attention to Maddie. “Can I be excused? I have some homework to get done.” 

Maddie let out a soft sigh. So much for family dinner.

“Of course, just make sure you come back down before you go to bed to get your chores done,” Maddie nodded at her. The young Fenton snapped to her feet with a thanks, fully abandoning her dinner as she went to the stairs. Jazz stared after her sister, craning her neck to track her movements before hurriedly shoveling more mashed potatoes in her mouth.

“Uh, I’m not that hungry, and I totally forgot to do this online assignment,” Jazz spoke, standing up, taking hers and her sister’s plate. She was already walking away before either parent could truly give permission. “I’ll put our plates up and clean up in a bit!”

“A-alright?” Jack hesitated, watching his other child put the plates on the counter before rushing up as well. Another child down. They seemed to grow up so fast. 

“Least they’re doing homework,” Maddie sighed lightly, shaking her head before taking a drink of her tea. “Oh well. Might as well take their lead and eat in the lab?” 

“Please,” Jack agreed. He stood up, taking his plate. “I’m dying to see what Phantom has to say.”

January 10

Skulker: 1; captured

Ectopuss: 1; captured

Box Ghost: 8; captured

Ember: Fought; got away

Fenton Thermos: half-full

Fenton Fisher: untangled

January 11

Vultures: 1; got away

Cujo: 1; played fetch and he went back to the GZ

Fenton Thermos: Full

Ghost Bazooka: overheated and doesn’t shoot anymore, take apart and fix it

January 12

Skulker: 2; got away

Box Ghost: 3; captured

Sidney: 2; got away

Fenton Fisher: tangled, untangle asap

January 13

Skulker: 1; captured

Box Ghost: 4; got away

Fenton Thermos: damaged, won’t suck up ghosts

I met a new ghost today named Desiree. She got away, but it allowed me to discover a new ghost power. Ghost ray.

Maddie furrowed her brow as she studied the words. She stood at the table, her dinner half-forgotten as she thought on the words.

“It sounds like a record,” Jack mused, and he ate another spoonful of peas. Maddie nodded in agreement.

“I think we found Phantom’s logbook,” she agreed. “I’m assuming these are the ghosts he’s fought. And he seems to be recording his powers too. This is huge, we can match up what we know about his powers and what he’s claiming.”

“And he’s recording the status of our equipment.” Jack frowned. “Why would he care?”

“Yeah, he made note that he was going to fix the Fenton Bazooka too,” Maddie pointed out. The scientist flipped through the pages, only to stop at a page, staring curiously. Maddie laid the journal on the table, pressing the spine so that the pages stayed open. She read the page aloud to Jack.

December 19

I hate my life. I hate this existence. I look in the mirror and wonder why it has to be this way. Why am I the one cursed to be this freak? Why is everything about me and my body wrong? For once, I wish something about me was normal, that somebody about me could be right. If Desiree wasn’t such an unreliable asshole with wishes, I’d give everything I have to wish that life could, for once, allow me to be a normal teenage boy. 

Jack listened to her in a stumped silence. This couldn’t have been a pre-death thought process of a moody teenager. It was written too recently, and the words hit a sorrowful chord to him. He didn’t intend to, but he quickly began to feel sorry for Phantom. He was very young. It couldn’t have been easy to lose everything at that age. His daughter was his age. Jack cleared his throat.

“It’s not just a log then?” Jack questioned. Maddie shook her head, flipping the pages back.

“No, I think it’s a mix. There’s still records of ghosts and FentonWorks equipment,” she replied. Using a leg, she pulled a wheeled chair to her to sit in. She leaned back, and she pulled the journal to her. After a moment of flipping through and scanning pages, she settled on a page about a third of the way through. “It seems like this is when he began to record things other than just ghosts.”

“What’s it say?” Jack wondered. Maddie read aloud the next few entries as Jack silently continued to eat. 

April 4

I only fought this shitty panther today, and he still got away. I’m such a fucking idiot. I can’t believe he got away. I was too slow. All I do is fuck up. There’s ghostly activity happening around the school, and I just can’t figure it out. I feel like I can’t stop them anymore. I don’t know what’s going on, why I suddenly suck so much. I honestly probably just always sucked, and now it’s starting to hit me. [scribbles] and [scribbles] were trying to make me feel better, but I fucked up. It was only one ghost today, and I couldn’t catch them. It destroyed an entire store, and it’s my fault.

April 8

No ghosts today, surprisingly. But [scribbles] has been acting weird lately. The other day she poked and prodded me at dinner. No clue what that’s about. She also tried to give me this speech that I can talk to her about anything, and that she’d love me no matter what. That makes me think she found my binder. I’m honestly kinda freaking out. I knew I shouldn’t have left it out like that. She’s such a nosy know it all.

“Phantom must keep more records than just this,” Maddie lightly mused. “He has an entire binder full of information that somebody discovered.”

“Maybe on other ghosts?” Jack theorized. “He’s recording his fights, he must be also recording information about them.” Maddie’s eyes lit up.

“That makes so much sense,” she agreed. “He probably keeps so many kinds of things written down and logged. I wonder where he’s keeping it? Obviously paper, which is a bit odd. I figured a teenager would move to the digital age…” Maddie paused.

“Maybe he’s older than we think he is?” Jack suggested. “He could have died fifty years ago, and just be more comfortable with writing things down.”

“Oh, that’s true,” Maddie mused. She put down the notebook to take a long sip of her drink. Jack picked it up to observe the page she read.

“Phantom has neat handwriting,” he noted. “He’s not fighting ghosts when he writes these.” Jack’s eyes scanned the words. “...I wonder who he’s scribbled out.”

“Allies?” Maddie shrugged. “He probably went back and blacked out some of the names. Privacy. Especially if this isn’t the first time he’s lost this.”

It made the most logical sense. Jack skipped the purely log entries to one that had more written, and he read it aloud to his wife.

April 10

She was feeding on us. Spectra, the Casper High “psychologist” was feeding on emotions, like some kind of emotional vampire but she’s a ghost. It’s so scary. I saw her do it. She asked [scribbles] and [scribbles] about their lives. What made them unhappy, and why. And when they left, I saw her absorb? I guess how I’d describe it? She absorbed the energy into her skin and it just seemed to instantly revive her, and it made her happy. When she did it to me, I could just look in her eyes and know that she enjoyed every minute of my misery. I managed to stop her, with [scribbles] helping me. It was weird. She didn’t seem afraid of me. I don’t know why. 

Spectra: 2; captured

“Ghosts can feed off of energy!” Maddie exclaimed. “Human energy! We always suspected it, but this is confirming something!” Jack glanced up at her excitedly. It was the first real, true ghostly discovery that Phantom was revealing to them. 

April 13

All I do is fuck up lately. Because of me, this ghost dog just absolutely has been causing havoc on this girl’s life. She blames me. And I don’t blame her. I ruined her entire life. She lost her house because of me. I didn’t mean to. I tried to stop the dog, but he just won’t respond to anything I say. I can’t capture him. I’ve been trying. I’ve been just calling the dog Cujo. After the Stephen King book, because damn is this dog giving me one fucking nightmare of a time.

Cujo: 3, got away

April 16

[scribbles] kissed me. It was to force me to change back, and it worked, but she kissed me. It was great. She smelled like lavender. I don’t think my heart’s ever beaten so fast. Afterwards she clarified to me that it was just a fake-out make-out. It didn’t feel like it. I don’t want it to be. But she’s my best friend, and I can’t lose her. So I agreed, and when I came home I cried. My dad caught me, and I pretended it was just girl problems, even though that excuse made me feel even worse. He got me some ice cream, and we watched Star Trek together. It didn’t really help that much, if I’m being honest. 

Anyway, apparently Cujo’s trained. He knows his commands. [scribbles] thinks it’s because he was a guard dog when he was alive for Axion Labs. For a guard dog, he’s such a playful puppy though, he loves his squeaky toy. And [scribbles] became a hunter specifically to kick my ass. It’s my lucky month. But I deserve it. Will there ever be a day where I actually can do more good than bad?

Skulker: 1; captured

[Scribbles]: 1 Red Huntress

Cujo: 1, got away

“Phantom has a family?” Maddie wondered. She chewed on her food as she thought. Jack shrugged, an odd, unsettled feeling hitting him as he put the book down for a moment. He used his spoon to push around his peas.

“I mean, we all do,” Jack reminded her. “Just...I didn’t think Phantom still talked to his family. After his death. Or did such...non-ghost things with them.” Watching Star Trek with his dad? Jack did that with his own kids all the time. It was his and his youngest daughter’s favorite show to watch together. Jazz typically preferred documentary series, and Maddie was too bothered by scientific inaccuracies to really enjoy science fiction. So it was always “their thing” and knowing that Phantom did it too was...too human. 

“Yeah, I didn’t...really expect him to still be haunting them,” Maddie said. Jack could tell that this was disturbing her a little. 

“But ghosts can retain their memories from life it seems,” Jack spoke up. Maddie stared at him. “The dog remembers commands from his life as a guard dog. What extent, I’m not sure.” Maddie hummed curiously.

Jack picked the book up again, skipping through more boring logs to other words. 

April 29

Ember: 2; captured

Fenton Thermos: full, empty

The past few weeks have been terrible. I have definitely come to the conclusion that I really am developing a crush on [scribbles]. Or maybe I always had one, I dunno. Is this really just an effect from Ember’s supposed spell? Does ghostly mind control really last? I think I always knew that I liked her though. I mean, ever since I told her that [scribbles], she’s been so supportive. She even cut my hair for me, which really pissed my parents off, but they ended up admitting that I looked better with my hair short anyway. Almost like it’s meant to be, huh? Ha. [scribbles] is also one of the only two people who know my deeper secret. She’s been so supportive through that too. She calls me Danny, and every time she refers to me as that, it makes my heart go crazy.

But would she even like me? Would she even wanna be with somebody like me? I don’t think I’d be her type. Some other friends I met at this local support group have complained about the struggles of dating. The stories are depressing, and it makes me worried that while [scribbles] will always love and accept me as a friend, that she’d never be able to love me as a boyfriend. I hate my life.

“Aw, Phantom has a little girlfriend,” Jack half-joked, only for goosebumps to raise and an odd chill run down his spine. He looked to Maddie for her opinion, and her face was scrunched up.

“That’s a bit creepy,” she commented. “He’s pretending to be human.”

“I dunno, Mads,” Jack shrugged. He re-read the ghostly teen’s internal conflicts. “Why would he pretend to be human in a journal that nobody’s meant to read?”

“He has to be sharing it with his allies,” she argued. “Those people he’s been scribbling out. Phantom has to be pretending for them. To keep them around. He even mentioned ghostly mind control.” 

She pushed her mostly-finished plate from herself, motioning for Jack to hand over the journal. He complied, and Maddie flipped through it. She stopped, and she set the journal down on the table once more. Leaning over, she studied the spine. A finger ran along the inner spine, and she frowned.

“Pages are missing,” she noticed. Jack pushed his plate out of the way to lean over as well.

Indeed, the top of the diary revealed that it was meant to be a normal, full diary. Now that Maddie pointed it out, it looked like well over a fourth of the diary had missing pages. Jack squinted, pulling his hood over his eyes. He used his googles to better examine.

“They weren’t ripped out, like in a ghost fight,” Jack told her. He pointed to what remained of a page, a barely noticeable strip. “It was carefully cut out.” Maddie narrowed her eyes to get a better look.

“You’re right,” she mused. “Phantom did this purposefully. Probably to hide stuff from his allies.”

“But why hide some stuff and not others?” Jack wondered aloud. “Clearly this girlfriend figure is an ally, but he can’t be...sharing this with her, right?” Maddie pulled back from the notebook to lean in her chair with a heavy sigh.

“...I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t think he would. But he’s also a ghost, they do weird things.” Jack didn’t know how to reply, and so he continued to read.

May 16

The past few days have been so full of drama. Walker ruined my life. He absolutely ruined it. He set out to make me the most hated person in Amity Park out of pure spite, and he succeeded. I’m public enemy number one. I can never win. For a while now, I had debated telling my parents, because I so desperately want their support, but they were part of the news coverage calling me a disgusting, evil ghost. I ended up crying yesterday. I don’t think they’ll ever truly love me if they knew. I also failed Wulf. Another failure on my plate. I’m just waiting for it to all crash down on me.

Walker: 1; sent to the GZ

Wulf: 1; sent to the GZ

Walker’s goons: at least 14, all captured

Fenton Thermos: overflowingly full

“Oh this is just becoming nonsense,” Maddie complained. “He’s lying. We were there, Jack! We saw him attack us.”

“I know, I know, he did, yeah, he did,” Jack tried to gather his thoughts. “But why would he lie in this? I don’t think anybody was meant to read this?” Jack flipped through the pages. The further he flipped through in, the more he could tell that some sections had more carefully cut out papers than others. Why was Phantom cutting out? What was he hiding? Why was he hiding it?

“He meant for somebody to read this,” Maddie lightly argued. 

“Yeah, it seems like it, but…,” Jack trailed off. He shook his head a bit, flipping back to where they had left off. “I dunno.”

“Hold on a second,” Maddie urged him, standing up. “Let me get something to write with, we should take some notes.”

“We can just use the scanner to make a copy of the journal afterwards, and we can further analyze it afterwards,” Jack suggested. Maddie thought on this, and she nodded, but she still reached for some scrap paper and a pen.

“Good idea, we should probably read through it fully first anyway,” she agreed. “But I still want to jot down some thoughts.”

“Of course, of course,” Jack replied. He knew that’s how she thought and processed information best, and it was always from her notes that he could visualize his own theories properly. He took a drink of tea before he continued reading the next true entry.

May 24

My entire relationship with my other crush (not [scribbles]) was a lie. She was being overshadowed by Kitty the entire time. This was my first real girlfriend, and it was all fake. I had assumed I was so lucky. I found a girl who knew and was okay with both of my biggest secrets. When I got home I ended up just going straight to my room. [scribbles] brought me dinner, but I didn’t feel like eating. Is this what life is going to be for me? I don’t want it to be like this. The only good thing is that [scribbles] doesn’t know either secret alongside our brief relationship.

Least Kitty and Johnny seem happy again. For now at least. I swear, they’re always breaking up and getting back together. 

Kitty: 1; sent back to the GZ

Johnny 13: 1; sent back to the GZ

Shadow: 1; sent back to the GZ

Jack could lightly hear Maddie taking notes on her scrap paper, the pen scratching at the surface. He didn’t comment on it, silently flipping to the next page, and he continued to read. 

August 19

I was forced to really face the reality of how much I fucked up [scribbles] life. I hate it. I’d do anything to take it back. It makes me wonder if I should just retire. Am I even really doing anything to help? Am I just a nuisance? Everybody thinks that. 

Rationally I know I can’t. I’m the only one who can properly deal with the ghosts, who has the power and abilities to fight back without getting killed. I have to do what I can, but I just wish I could do it without making so many mistakes. [scribbles] said that it’ll be okay, and that it gets better, but it sure doesn’t fucking feel like it.

Skulker: 3; finished

Red Huntress: 2; temporary truce?

“He’s so full of...emotion for a ghost,” Maddie finally spoke up. 

Jack glanced at the paper she had in front of her. There was some notes of what they had been learning so far, and there were emotions written in all caps with a line under, and a list of various emotions. Emotions Phantom seemed to be displaying. Guilty, despair, loneliness, self-hatred, self-doubt. Despite the few entries, it was already quite a list.

“It’s not just him either,” Maddie continued. Jack rose an eyebrow at her. She didn’t immediately reply, fingers on her lips as she stared down at the journal. “He’s giving emotions to other ghosts too.”

Jack stared down blankly at the journal in his hands. 

“Where?”

Maddie began to write, and as she wrote, it clicked. Spectra’s joy in hurting others. Kitty and Johnny’s relationship. Walker’s spite. Cujo being a playful puppy. According to Phantom, and against what they knew as scientists, ghosts were experiencing a wide variety of emotions and for different reasons. It was weird. 

Jack continued to read.

October 17

I don’t know what happened the past few days. It’s this weird blur. According to [scribbles] and [scribbles] I did a lot of bad things under Freakshow’s control. [scribbles] hugged me and told me that it was nothing that we couldn’t fix, but I doubt that. Why does this keep happening to me? I don’t want to hurt people. I want to be a good person, and I want to help Amity Park, but I don’t know what keeps happening. Everything’s a fog, and I’m exhausted. 

Freakshow: 1; arrested by APPD

Circus ghosts: freed from Freakshow’s control, went back to the GZ

Replace Fenton Anti-Creep Stick, print out another sticker to put on it

“Freakshow...that was the weird circus guy,” Jack interrupted himself. Maddie nodded.

“Yeah, and if Phantom’s right...he could control the ghosts,” she mused. “So there’s a way for humans to take control of ghosts...That’s something to look into. If we can control the ghosts into staying away, it’d be such a massive scientific breakthrough.”

“We should look into Freakshow more, and see if we can talk to him!” Jack agreed. “Maybe he’ll share something with us.” Maddie smiled softly.

“I doubt that,” she replied gently. “But there’s no harm in trying. What else does it say?”

November 8

I have to fight Pariah Dark. I’m terrified. I don’t think I’ll live through it. How can I live through fighting the actual ghost king? I may never see my family again, and I can’t even tell them what happened to me if I die. I’ve been debating telling [scribbles] that I like her, but I don’t think I could bring myself to do it. 

What happens if I die? I have no clue. I’m scared to find out. I can’t die now. I have to make it back. I’ll go missing, and I won’t even be declared dead as my parents’ son. Nobody will know who to really look for. I have to come back. Maybe if I succeed, and people like me again after this, I can tell my family everything.

November 10

I couldn’t tell them. My parents still despise part of me, despite what I’ve done. I know they love me, cause my mom’s already been fussing over me like crazy because of my injuries. [scribbles] said she cried when they couldn’t find me, and that my dad had gone out looking for me all over the city, even in the dangerous parts. They of course love me, but do they really love me unconditionally?

Jack felt his voice trailing off as he hit the end. He coughed lightly, and he took a long drink. Maddie stared off into nothing. The only thing he could think of was his own search for his baby girl. He wasn’t alone, bumping into several other parents desperately looking for their missing children, and several children who got separated from their parents. The entire day was somber and frightening, and Maddie had spent the entire day glued to the phone. In case she called them. 

It was all...too real, and Jack flipped past more logs. He couldn’t help but begin to take note of how every single day had a log of ghost fighting activities, even if Phantom didn’t write down his feelings every day. This was so much more than the ghost hunting duo ever expected, more attacks than they were recording.

His eyes rested only for a moment on December 19, and he decided to just skip it. They had already read it earlier. No need to refresh those memories. More logs, and more missing pages, and he came upon another one. 

March 26

I ripped out a lot of pages, more than I intended. I can’t risk anybody finding out what happened, but also other pages revealed too much, so I kept them tucked away where nobody could ever find them. I’d burn them, but I don’t want to lose the ghost hunting data. It’s okay now. I fixed the problem and assured that everything’s going to be fine. Possibly better. I made the right choice this time, and now I know that one day, I will grow a sick beard. 

I know somebody knows my secrets now. All of them. She had known for months but wanted me to tell her. She asked me if I had a name, and ever since I told her that it was Danny, she’s been calling me that whenever she can. It made me cry the first time. It’s so great to have her know everything now. She loves me no matter what. I couldn’t ask for a better person. Even though she found out because I’m an idiot. This entire thing also made me realize how important it is to keep those secrets, and how poorly I’ve been keeping them. 

I didn’t ever mean for this to turn into a diary. I wanted to keep track of ghost fights. But it honestly helps with both the dysphoria and the stresses of being a ghost. I just went back and scribbled out names. Just in case. In the future I need to be more vague. 

But this is also the end for one secret. If things go wrong then well. I don’t know. I’ll make it up as I go along. But I know that this is who I am, and that I’m hitting a point where I need help to just be me. 

Him: 1; captured for good

Skulker: 2; captured

Desiree: 1; captured

Ectopusses: 1; captured

Cujo: 1, sent back to the GZ

Fenton Thermos: full

Fenton Anti-Creep Stick: destroyed, get new bat and sticker to put on it

Also learned a new ghost power: Ghostly wail. A scream that can just absolutely fuck somebody’s day up. I have to use it sparingly though.

Jack closed the journal, and he set it flat on the table. His mind was blank, and he couldn’t read Maddie. She continued to stare at the closed book, hand in pen but almost unsure as to what to even jot down as a note. He leaned in his seat, finishing his drink. Maddie exhaled deeply, dropping her pen in favor of stretching.

Neither said a word. Jack knew that this journal was not any kind of trick. It was too raw and emotional to be anything more than the thoughts of a teenage ghost. He regretted reading it. It held some interesting information, and he was sure if he dug deeper, that he would find more. But as it stood, his own intense guilt was settling as he knew that he just took too personal a look into the private emotional afterlife of Phantom.

“This is a lot to take in,” Maddie finally spoke. Jack only nodded.

The basement door opened, and they heard dual pairs of footsteps hop downstairs. Jack instantly brightened, and he turned in his chair to smile as his kids soon came into view.

“Hey, is this a bad time?” Jazz asked. She glanced between them, and Jack immediately shook his head no. 

“No, no,” Maddie replied quickly. Jack saw her push the journal and her notes, along with her pen and a few spare lab tools, carelessly into a drawer to help assure the Fenton kids that they weren’t interrupting anything. “What’s up, sweetie?” 

“Well, I have something that I wanna talk about,” their youngest spoke slowly. Jack noticed that she had finally taken off her hoodie, and that while she wore her normal tomboy attire, that something was a bit off about her. He couldn’t place it. Jazz stood close to her, an arm full of books clutched to her chest, though he couldn’t make out any titles. “It’s something important, and I don’t really want to put it off any longer.”

“Is something wrong? Are you in trouble?” Jack asked. His daughter shook her head no. 

“Oh, no!” she said. “It’s just…” 

She took a deep breath, and soon, their son began to explain.

[wistfulcynic]

all the perfect things (that i doubt)

SUMMARY: Zelena is defeated and Emma returns to her quiet life in New York with Henry, leaving Killian brokenhearted and her feelings for him unresolved. Three years later they meet again and quite a lot has changed—but will these changes push them further apart or help them find their way back to each other?

Canon divergence with no time-travel adventure.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @ohmightydevviepuu! You are brilliant and amazing and a fantastic writer and a kind friend, and so to honour the anniversary of your birth I have attempted to fill this VERY LONG one-shot with all the things you like best. There’s angst and second-chance romance and people needing to sort their shit out before finding their way back to each other and angst and emotions and erotica and did I mention angst? There’s also Tinkerhook and Captain Cobra (implied, but very much there) and oh yeah it’s a 3B divergence. AND the title comes from a song! I’ll Be Good by Jaymes Young, which is just about the most Killian thing to ever Jones. I hope that it leaves your boxes thoroughly ticked. 

Much gratefulness to @thisonesatellite​ and @katie-dub​ for invaluable suggestions and encouragement ❤️❤️❤️

Rated: M Words: 20k Tags: canon divergence, angst, smut, angst with a happy ending, minor mentions of suicidal thoughts

On AO3 

-

all the perfect things (that i doubt)

Emma parked her bug in front of the red brick row house and got out, hiking her tight skirt inelegantly as she did and teetering a bit on her towering heels as she climbed the steps to the small porch. She went inside and shut the door behind her, then leaned back against it with a small sigh. It was weird being back in Boston after three years in New York—four, really, if you counted the year she and Henry had spent there without their memories—and she hadn’t quite adjusted yet. New York was pretty much home now, or at least that’s what she regularly told herself, and Boston was… well…

Boston didn’t feel like home but it did feel familiar, the uncomfortable familiarity of something—or someone—that knew her far better than she wanted them to. Emma didn’t like places that knew her too well any more than she liked people who did. It was one of the reasons she’d chosen to sublet a place in Brookline—that and the generous relocation allowance her bail-bonds firm was paying—and even though she had to drive into the city every day to help set up the firm’s new Boston branch, coming home every night to a place that wasn’t technically Boston offered at least a small respite. 

She hung her keys on a hook by the door and kicked off her heels, flexing her toes in relief. It was only a six month placement, she reminded herself. Six months to get the new office up and running, then she could go back to New York and be comfortably anonymous again. 

“Mom, is that you?” Henry’s voice called and Emma grinned, following the sound into the living room. 

“Were you expecting someone else?” she teased, collapsing onto the sofa next to her son and putting her feet up on the coffee table. “How was the first day at the new school?” 

Henry closed the book he’d been reading and turned to her, his face lit up with excitement. “Fine, fine, the school’s good and kids seem cool, but Mom! You’ll never guess.” He bounced in his seat, almost vibrating with eagerness. Even at fifteen Henry hadn’t lost the enthusiastic nature she’d found so hard to resist in the ten-year-old who’d first come to find her in this city. Despite his occasional bouts of teenage sullenness. 

“Guess what?” she asked, smiling at him. 

“Guess who my astronomy teacher is.” 

“You’re taking astronomy?” 

“I need a science and it’s better than chemistry.” 

“Well, that’s true.” 

“It’s also not important,” said Henry, impatiently refocusing the conversation back to his question. “Guess who my teacher is! You never will!” 

“Um, Carl Sagan?”

“Mom, he’s dead!” 

“Oh.” Dammit, thought Emma. She’d been pleased with herself for managing to come up with the name. “Um, who’s the other guy? Neil something Tyson?” 

“Neil deGrasse Tyson, and no, come on, you’re not even trying.” 

Emma sighed. “Henry, I genuinely have no idea. Why don’t you just tell me?” 

“It’s Hook!” 

“Hoo—what?” Emma stared at him as her heart stumbled then began to pound. He couldn’t possibly mean Hook Hook, could he?

“Captain Hook!” Henry confirmed, and Emma’s heart took off at a gallop. “He calls himself Killian Jones of course and he doesn’t wear the hook anymore but it’s still definitely him! I couldn’t believe it!” 

“But I thought…” She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Isn’t he living in Storybrooke?” 

“That’s what I said! I mean, I’ve never seen him there but I just kind of assumed. But he said no, he’s lived in Boston almost three years!” 

“You—you talked to him?” Breathe, Emma.

“Well, yeah.” Henry shrugged. “It would have been rude not to. He didn’t exactly seem thrilled to see me, but he was nice. He said not to expect any special treatment in class though if I remembered what he taught me about using the sextant that one time it would be helpful. I mostly remember, so…” 

Henry chattered on and Emma tried her best to listen but her mind couldn’t focus. She felt breathless and chaotic, buzzing with confusion and with a strange eager excitement. Hook is here, was all she could think. Here. Here in Boston. Where she was. Here. Close by. Possibly very close. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest, and she pressed the heel of her hand against it.

He was Henry’s teacher. Hook was a teacher. She tried to imagine that and found to her surprise that it wasn’t actually all that difficult. Obviously he wouldn’t wear his pirate coat in the classroom like in the image her frazzled brain insisted on conjuring, but he’d always been so good with Henry, she could easily imagine him teaching other kids.  

And he’s here, her brain kept reminding her. Here. Where you are. You can see him. You can see him. You can see him…

“…and he’s actually a really good teacher, he explains things so well.” Henry was still talking. “He says he teaches math too, I’m actually thinking I might try doing pre-calc with him, you know I wasn’t going to take that until we got back to New York, but I think he might be able to help me, and…”

“That’s great, kid.” Emma felt bad interrupting him when he was so excited but she couldn’t handle any more talking about Hook or thinking about Hook teaching Henry or about him talking to Henry or really just any thinking about Hook at all. “What do you want for dinner?” 

Henry’s eyes lit with a different sort of enthusiasm and Emma hid a grin. How to distract a teenage boy 101: Offer him food, she thought.

“Pizza from Dino’s,” said Henry decisively. “But since that’s not possible, how about something Boston-y that we can’t get in New York?” 

“Like what?” 

“How should I know, I’ve only been here once. You’re the one who used to live here.” 

“Um, baked beans? Clam chowder? Lobster roll?” 

“Pah,” he scoffed. “I can get lobster rolls in Maine.” 

“Well, how about clam chowder then?”

Henry looked dubious. “Okay,” he said. “I’m willing to try new stuff while we’re here. But if it’s gross, it goes on the list forever. Deal?” 

Emma laughed. “Deal.” 

…

Later that night when Emma finally gave up after hours of tossing and turning in her bed, kicked off the covers and went to her laptop, she knew what she was going to do. She didn’t exactly like it, but she knew it, and as she opened the website for Henry’s school she didn’t hesitate. She clicked on ‘Staff Directory’ and scrolled through the list of teachers’ names and then she caught her breath. 

It wasn’t that she hadn’t believed Henry, just that in the first flush of shock at hearing his name again she hadn’t really been able to process the reality of Hook being here, in Boston, in a normal place with a normal job and presumably a normal life. Not until she actually saw his name, right there on the screen, with her own eyes. 

Killian Jones. Mathematics and Astronomy. Latin Club. Debate Team.

With slightly trembling fingers she clicked on it, releasing the breath she’d been holding and gasping in another immediately after as her heart stumbled once more and began to pound against her ribs. The picture was in black and white and tiny, just a thumbnail, but it was unmistakably him. Still with the scruff though his hair looked neater, no eyeliner of course but he’d kept the earring—a small stud barely visible in the tiny photo. And somehow, somehow he still had that look in his eye… the one that promised excitement and adventure and fun… Emma squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to clear it. When she opened them again the look was still there. His students must love him, she thought. What kid wouldn’t want a pirate as their teacher?

She closed the school’s website and opened the professional one she used to dig up information on her skips. Using it to investigate anyone else was unethical enough that she could be fired for doing it but she was prepared to take the risk. He was teaching her son, she told herself. She had information about him that the school district did not. She had to make sure he wasn’t still doing… pirate-y stuff. Yeah, that was it. That was the reason.  

Ten minutes later she had his home address and cell number, his personal email and links to his social media accounts. Or rather, his account. Singular. He didn’t have Facebook or Twitter, which wasn’t particularly surprising she supposed, but he did have Instagram. She clicked on the link and a small smile curved her lips as her screen filled with images of the Massachusetts coastline.

He liked to take pictures of the sea. This was also unsurprising. But although various boats and ships featured prominently in many of his photos none of them were the Jolly Roger, and that did surprise her. What had he done with his ship, she wondered. Probably left it in Storybrooke; it wasn’t like he could sail a pirate ship around Boston harbour. Though he had sailed it to New York… She frowned. Hook loved that ship, it had been his home for literal centuries. Emma couldn’t imagine him just leaving the Jolly and moving someplace else. 

It was just… weird, the whole freaking thing. Hook’s presence here, his job, the quiet life he seemed to be living, his absent ship. It was a mystery, and mysteries had never sat well with Emma. Before she could talk herself out of it she copied his home address and pasted it into Google Maps, and when the results appeared on the screen she gave a wry snort. He lived a few blocks away from her sublet. Because of course he did. 

Good, she thought. It was good that he lived so close. That way, when she went to his house to confront him tomorrow she’d be able to walk there and pick up some dinner on the way home. 

…

Hook, as it turned out, lived in a very nice house on a very nice street in a very nice neighbourhood. A very nice neighbourhood, Emma thought, looking around as she strolled down the sidewalk trying to look casual and not as out of place as she definitely felt. Quiet and well-kept, with tall trees and flowers and carefully tended lawns. Not at all the kind of place you’d expect would appeal to a fairy tale pirate. 

His house was made of red brick in a sharp and tidy style, with white-framed windows and black shutters and a white portico with actual freaking columns at the top of the red brick steps. It was completely bizarre to think of him living there but also made an odd kind of sense. The house’s unfussy symmetry and clean colours gave it a nautical sort of air, and aside from a few shrubs on either side of the porch the lawn was neatly kept but bare. He’d always kept things neat, she remembered. 

 Emma’s heart was galloping again, her hand trembling as she rang the bell. She could hear it echo through the house and panic gripped her chest, and she wondered wildly if it was too late to turn around and run away. Then the door swung open and her mind went blank. 

His eyes were exactly as she remembered them, as blue as the ocean he so loved and just as deep, their expression shuttered now but still compelling. Still beautiful. They stared at each other for a breathless moment as she scrambled to think of something, anything to say to him, then he stepped back and held the door open. 

“Come in, Swan,” he said, and her heart beat even faster at the sound of her name in his voice, “I’ve been expecting you.” 

“You—you have?” 

“Aye.” He smiled wryly. “Ever since Henry appeared in my class yesterday. I knew your curiosity wouldn’t allow you to stay away for long.” 

He ushered her into a living room that was as tidy as his cabin on the Jolly Roger had been, with broad-planked hardwood floors and one wall lined with bookshelves. A large, comfortable-looking sofa sat at the centre of the room and Killian gestured to it. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, beer?” 

“Beer.” Emma latched on to the idea of alcohol like a lifeline. “I think I could use one.” 

“Aye,” he replied. “As could I.” 

He disappeared through a door in the corner of the room as Emma sank weakly onto the sofa and tried to calm her frantic heartbeat. A minute or two later Hook returned with two brown bottles, handed one to her then sat on the opposite side of the sofa and took a long drink from the other. Emma drank as well, surreptitiously studying him from the corner of her eye as she did. 

He was wearing jeans. Well-worn, soft looking ones. And a t-shirt in a similar condition with ‘Boston College’ across the front in faded letters. 

“Boston College,” she blurted, desperate to fill the stretching silence. 

“Pardon?” 

“Your shirt. Boston College.” 

“Oh, aye.” He looked down and shrugged. “Where I studied.” 

“But—you didn’t,” said Emma, feeling thoroughly off-kilter. “You couldn’t have. Did you?” 

“Obviously I didn’t,” he replied. “But I have both memories and official documentation that says otherwise. Courtesy of Tink.” 

“Tink?” Emma frowned, both at his words and the nasty tendril of jealousy that curled in her gut. 

“Indeed. She gave me what I needed to start a new life in this realm. Much as Regina once did for you.” 

“But—Regina did that for me as part of a curse. How did Tink… for you..?” 

He shrugged again. “Damned if I know. I try not to ask too many questions where magic is concerned. We… rekindled our old companionship after you left. She knew I wanted to leave Storybrooke and once her magic was fully restored she offered to help me do that. The results are as you see. She gave me what she said was the same realm-specific knowledge Regina gave the Storybrooke residents she cursed, along with an identity and accompanying memories so I could get a job outside of Storybrooke.” 

“But—” Emma’s head was spinning, the jealous tendril writhing like a snake. “Why did you want a job outside of Storybrooke?” 

“There’s nothing for me in that town,” he replied, in echo of the last time they’d sat like this, drinking together. “Why would I stay?” 

“Well… I mean…” 

He drank again, deeply, and she tried not to watch his throat work as he did. “I saw an opportunity for a fresh start in a new place,” he said. “One that thinks Captain Hook is an object of ridicule with a perm and a waxed moustache.” He smirked wryly though anger flared in his eyes. 

“You saw that, did you?” 

“And read the book.” He drank again. “And as much as I may like to wring the neck of this J.M. Barrie, he did in a roundabout way afford me the chance to slip unnoticed into this realm and become someone new. And so I did.” 

“I’ll say you did. A high school teacher?” 

“And why not?” he challenged. “You’ve said yourself I’m good with children. And I enjoy it. It’s honest work, and rewarding.” 

Emma shook her head, struggling to get to grips with everything he was saying and everything she was seeing in him. He looked so familiar; even with the drastic wardrobe change his face and his hair and his voice were all just as she remembered. But he was different. A kind of different that couldn’t be explained away by the knowledge Tink had given him or his new life. His face and eyes were so expressionless, his body language cool and distant. She couldn’t detect event the smallest hint of the flirtatious pirate who used to invade her space whenever he could, always challenging her, always understanding her, always watching her with that unnervingly intense focus—like he wanted to uncover every inch of her. That man seemed so thoroughly absent from the one now sitting opposite her that for a moment Emma wondered if she had imagined him.

“Well, you seem to be good at it,” she said brightly. “Henry can’t say enough good things about your class. He’s thinking of taking another one with you, actually. Pre-calculus.” 

“Aye. I’ve already approved his request. He’ll start tomorrow.” 

“So are you as good a math teacher as you are an astronomy one?” She made her voice light, teasing, edging into flirtatious, hoping to draw out the pirate—even just a brief glimpse of him, just for a moment. Hook’s face remained impassive.  

“I do my job to the best of my ability in every class I teach,” he replied, then drained the last of his beer and set the empty bottle on the sea chest in front of the sofa. Emma sipped hers, feeling cold and confused and with a sharp ache of loss in her chest.  

Hook leaned back against the arm of the sofa and gave her a hard look. “So is your curiosity appeased, then, Swan?” he asked. “Do I pass muster? May I be allowed to continue with my job and my life?” 

She frowned, hurt by the harsh sarcasm in his tone. “I didn’t come here to—to investigate you,” she said, forgetting that this was the exact excuse she’d given herself for her visit. “I just wanted to see you.” I’ve missed you, she did not say. I thought maybe you’d missed me too. 

“And now you have,” he replied. “Is that all?” 

“I—I guess so.” Emma put her own beer on the table though the bottle was still mostly full. “I guess I’ll be going.” 

“I’ll see you out.” 

He could sound less eager about it, she thought, following him to the door. He opened it for her and she looked at him again, at this man so familiar and yet so strange, and realised that even though he was standing right in front of her she still missed him. She missed him. 

On impulse she leaned in close and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek. His scruff was surprisingly soft beneath her lips and she heard him catch his breath, felt him flinch as if to hug her in return then stop himself. She lingered as long as she dared before stepping back, and when she looked into his eyes again she caught her own breath. 

There was the heat she’d started to think she had imagined. Heat and longing and that edge of danger that even a black and white thumbnail photo couldn’t disguise. In that split second he looked like he wanted to devour her, his breath hot on her cheek as he leaned closer, his eyes blazing with everything she had missed about her pirate. 

Then he blinked and his eyes were shuttered again. He grabbed her arms roughly, pulling them from around his waist and shoving her away, towards the open door. “Well, thanks for stopping by, Swan,” he said, not looking at her. “So nice to see you again. Tell Henry I said hello and not to forget his astronomy homework. Goodbye.” He shut the door behind her and she heard the click of the lock turning.

She fought the urge to cry all the way home. 

…

Killian leaned back against his front door and slowly slid down it, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head drop into his shaking hand. Tremors racked his body and his chest was so tight he struggled to draw in gasping breaths. 

Three years. Three years since she’d left Storybrooke, left him, returned to the life she’d had when she couldn’t remember him and never looked back. Three years since she’d shattered his heart. 

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he thought bitterly, she walks into mine. He should have taken that job in Montana instead. Emma would surely never show up there. 

Of course, he hadn’t thought she’d show up here either, not in this city she’d already lived in and left. Emma wasn’t the sort of person to go back to places—or people—she’d put behind her. He’d thought he was safe here. 

It seemed he’d thought a lot of things that weren’t actually true. That he could withstand seeing her again, for one. That he was prepared. He’d coached himself, steeled himself, buried his feelings deep and locked them away. And all it took was one brief press of her body against his, one gentle brush of her lips across his cheek to break right through his carefully constructed defences and reduce them to dust. 

Tears prickled behind his eyes and he blinked them angrily away. He would not weep over Emma Swan, he told himself firmly, not again. Not today. Instead he would pull himself together again just as he had in Storybrooke, as he did every time thoughts of her overwhelmed him, and he  would get on with his life. Now that she’d seen him surely her curiosity would be assuaged and she wouldn’t return. He could find his peace again. 

…

The next morning Killian walked to work, a thing he did as often as possible. It wasn’t that he disliked driving, quite the contrary in fact. Cars, in keeping with many of the mechanical innovations of this realm, fascinated him, and aside from his house his car was the one possession in which he had truly indulged. 

In the staid upper-middle-class neighbourhood where he lived his sleek gunmetal-grey Aston Martin was almost acceptable, not outrageous enough to give his neighbours anything to actually complain about but more than sufficient to irk them in a way they couldn’t quite articulate when he zipped along their tree-lined streets with the top down. Had they known that the money he’d used to buy it was ill-gotten pirate treasure magically converted into the currency of their realm, they would have been even more displeased. The thought of that delighted Killian nearly as much as the car herself. 

And his car did delight him; the powerful hum of her engine and the way she responded to the smallest twitch of her wheel was the closest thing he’d yet found in this world to standing at the helm of the Jolly Roger in full sail. He’d purposely chosen a convertible for the feel of the wind through his hair, and as often as possible he took her out of the city, driving far too fast along quiet country roads and almost hoping the local police would catch him doing it. 

Once a pirate always a pirate, at least in some small ways. 

But still he preferred to walk to work. Idling in traffic was an insult to his car and a waste of her skills and anyway the walk was not a long one—hardly more than a good stretch of the legs, as Liam would have said. It took him barely twenty minutes along the shortest route and less than half an hour even if he stopped for coffee first.  

That morning, he stopped for coffee. He’d not slept well, too plagued by thoughts of Emma and then by dreams of her to manage any real rest. His eyes felt gritty and his head ached, and though the walk in the brisk morning air cleared some of the cobwebs from his brain it hadn’t made much of a dent in anything else. 

He ordered his usual black coffee and a not-so-usual blueberry muffin. The intense sweetness of breakfast foods in this realm he didn’t generally care for but this morning he needed a boost of something and sugar seemed as good a thing as any, despite the inevitable mid-morning crash it would bring. There were always donuts in the staff room, perhaps later he’d finally give one of those a try. Anything to get him through this day. 

He took his coffee and the bag with the muffin from the barista with the best approximation of a smile that he could manage and wished her a good day. She blushed. 

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and Killian shook his head as he turned to go. When had it come to pass that he, the erstwhile Captain Hook, was referred to as ‘sir’ by sweet and blushing young women? Probably right about the time he’d stopped calling himself Captain Hook. 

Still, the blush and her shy smile brightened his mood and he was just thinking that perhaps this day might not end as dreadfully as it had begun when he walked through the cafe’s outer door and straight into Emma. 

Coffee sloshed from his cup and onto his hand and he barely managed not to drop it or his muffin as he caught her around the waist with his prosthetic before she could fall, hissing in a breath at the feel of her pressed against him for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. She gave a small cry and grabbed his shoulders for balance, her eyes wide and startled. 

“Hook!” she gasped. 

“Killian,” he snarled, using the arm around her waist to steer her out of the path of the other people trying to get into the cafe. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t use that name anymore, particularly not in public,” he hissed, low for her ears only. 

“What, you think someone’s going to recognise you?” She smirked. “You don’t have enough hair for that.” 

“This isn’t a joke, Swan,” he said harshly. “I’ve left that man and his name behind me, and I don’t particularly care to be reminded of them.” Her fingers flexed on his shoulders and with a start he realised that they were still standing close together, his arm tight around her waist. He released her and stepped back so abruptly she stumbled, and cleared his throat before he spoke again. “What are you doing here, anyway?” he asked, though he had a terrible suspicion he already knew the answer. 

“Getting coffee,” she replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This place was recommended in all the neighbourhood guides.” 

Neighbourhood bloody guides. “So you live nearby, then,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Yep. About three blocks that way.” She gestured vaguely behind her. “I’m working in Boston, though. Setting up a new office of my bail bonds firm. What about you?” 

“You know where I live.” 

“Yeah, but I mean are you headed to work already? Isn’t it a bit early?” 

“The school day begins at 7.30, Swan, as I would expect you to know, being the parent of one of my students,” he said shortly. “And I am now officially running late. If you’ll excuse me.” He turned to go. 

“Killian.” Emma caught his arm and he flinched, both from the feel of her hand on him and the way she said his name. 

“What?” he snapped. 

“Can we—look, can’t we just—” 

“Spit it out, love.” He risked a glance at her, his fingers tightening on the muffin bag as their eyes met. 

“Can’t we be friends?” she burst out. “Please?”

 He stared at her for an incredulous moment and then the fury he’d been so carefully holding back exploded in his chest. He rounded on her, backing her up against the fence of the cafe’s outdoor seating area, keeping his voice low so as not to draw attention, spitting the words in her ear. 

“No, Swan, we cannot be friends,” he hissed. “We have never been friends.” 

It was far too tame a word, he thought, too tame a concept to ever encompass the complex tangle of emotions that Emma inspired in him. They had always been both more than friends and a good deal less, and as far as Killian was concerned she’d thrown away the more when she turned her back on him three years ago. The less was all that remained. 

They were standing much too close again, close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes and hear the rasp in her breath and he was so tempted, so bloody tempted to give in. To agree to be her friend and anything else she wanted, to accept whatever scraps of affection and attention she was willing to spare him and be grateful for them. But he’d accepted those terms before and they had all but broken him. 

With a massive effort he reined in his anger and stepped back, drawing a deep breath to calm himself. “As it appears that we are neighbours of a sort, I don’t doubt we’ll see each other around,” he said. “When that happens I will nod politely to you and exchange pleasantries about the weather and Henry’s progress in school and perhaps the latest performances of Boston’s various sports teams. Beyond that I can’t imagine that we would have anything to discuss.” 

He spun on his heel and stalked away, leaving her leaning against the fence, trembling and once more on the verge of tears. She stared at the door of the cafe for a long moment before turning away, no longer hungry but with an aching emptiness inside her that she had no idea how to fill. 

…

As he had predicted, Emma ran into Killian everywhere she went, or at least that’s how it felt. After their third encounter at the cafe—each at a different time—she’d started arriving early and lurking in her car until she saw him leave before venturing in herself. Even with that precaution she still spotted him at the grocery store and at the bank, and at the only pizza place in town Henry deemed acceptable as a temporary stand-in for Dino’s. He was everywhere she turned, nodding civilly at her each time they met and making a bland remark, his face and eyes so expressionless it made her want to claw at something. Preferably at him. 

Finally after two awkward weeks Emma found a welcome distraction, a temporary one but at least it was something to take her mind off Killian for one night: a skip that was a perfect target for a honey trap of the kind she hadn’t pulled in far too long. Anticipation buzzed in her veins as she approached the restaurant where they were set to meet, a swankier one than she usually preferred for these sorts of things but the skip was a banker who was clearly out to impress. 

Emma was out to impress too, in a dark red strapless dress that hugged every curve and heels that made her legs look endless. Her hair was perfectly curled and her makeup on point, and she flashed a smile at the doorman as she strode in, feeling slightly reckless and more confident than she had in some time, and completely failing to notice the woman standing just inside the doors until she’d bumped into her. 

“Oh, sorry!” she said, catching the woman’s arm as she stumbled. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

“No problem,” replied the woman with an apologetic laugh. “I probably shouldn’t be standing in the doorway, but my boyfriend’s running late which is really not like him, and I’m not entirely sure what to do with myself while I wait.” 

She was a very pretty woman in a wholesome sort of way, with golden brown hair and dark blue eyes, and a warm smile that Emma couldn’t help responding to. 

“Well I hope he turns up soon,” she said, smiling back. 

“I’m sure he will,” replied the woman. “Have a great night!” 

“You too.” 

The skip was waiting for her at the bar, with a martini for himself and a glass of white wine for her. Emma ground her teeth behind a brilliant smile. Men who ordered for women without consulting them were the worst kind of assholes. She was going to enjoy nailing this fucker’s balls to the wall. 

“White wine!” she exclaimed, settling gracefully onto the barstool next to him and crossing her legs, making sure a generous portion of thigh was on display. “How’d you know?”

“I know what the ladies like,” he replied with a smirk he probably thought was charming. 

“You sure do.” Emma picked up the wine glass and took a sip, not missing the way his eyes lingered on her mouth as she did. She set the glass down and ran her fingertip along its rim, looking up at the skip through lowered eyelashes. “So tell me about yourself,” she cooed. 

“Well, I work for the biggest bank in the city…” he began, and Emma widened her eyes in feigned interest. From the corner of one of them she caught sight of the woman from earlier approaching a small table not far from the bar, accompanied by a dark-haired man who had his hand at the small of her back and was leaning down to whisper in her ear. Emma smiled to herself, glad that the woman’s boyfriend had finally showed, and then she got a good look at him. 

Killian. 

Emma’s heart stumbled and she froze, her eyes fixed on the couple as they arrived at their table. The woman was holding a pink rose, sniffing it with a soft smile as Killian pulled out her chair for her and kissed her cheek as she settled into it. He spoke a few words to the hovering waiter who nodded eagerly and scurried away, then sat down next to the woman and took her hand, lacing their fingers together and murmuring something that had her blushing and sniffing the rose again. 

My boyfriend’s running late… my boyfriend… boyfriend… the woman’s words rang in Emma’s ears as she watched them. They looked comfortable together but still with an undercurrent of excitement, like the relationship was new but not too new. Killian must have been dating this woman for at least a few months. Long enough for her to know that it wasn’t like him to be late, and not to feel insecure when he was. Long enough for her to casually call him her boyfriend. 

The waiter reappeared with a bottle of wine and a small vase for the rose. The woman laughed when he set it down in front of her and the look she gave Killian made Emma’s heart ache. The waiter poured their wine and they clinked their glasses together, then settled into what appeared to be easy and pleasant conversation. 

Killian looked… not precisely happy, Emma thought. But he looked content. Relaxed and at ease in a way she’d never seen him be before. He smiled often as the woman spoke and there was no flirtation in it, no smirk or leer or defensiveness. Just simple smiles from a man enjoying the company of his date. 

“Hey,” said the skip, snapping his fingers in front of her face. “You’re not even listening to me.” 

“Sorry.” Emma dragged her eyes away from Killian and tried to focus on her mark. She needed to stay sharp to spot the moment when she could jump in and cuff him with the least amount of fuss. It would be better if she could get him outside first; he looked like a runner and although she’d taken the precaution of clamping his car she didn’t really want to cause a commotion in a restaurant this nice. He started in again boasting about his job and she did her best to appear attentive but she couldn’t keep her eyes from darting back to Killian. That woman had seemed so nice, sweet and friendly and she didn’t even know who he was, thought Emma with a burst of anger. She didn’t know anything about him, not about his past and the terrible things he’d done… or about the losses he’d suffered… the way he could read her like an open book… how he used to look at her… the way he kissed…

Oh she knows exactly how he kisses, whispered a nasty little voice in the back of her head. And a lot more.   

Emma snarled at that thought, clenching her fist on her wine glass so hard that the stem snapped and its jagged point sank deep into her palm. 

“Ow!” she cried, loudly enough that several people at the neighbouring tables turned to stare. She didn’t look at Killian—she couldn’t—but she could sense his eyes on her and for a crazy moment she wished she still had magic and could disappear in a puff of smoke. 

“What the hell,” said the skip, glaring at her. “What is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing! I just—it just broke.” 

“You’re bleeding everywhere.” His lip curled in disgust but he made no move to help her. 

“Sorry,” she said. “I—I’m sorry.” 

“Fuck this,” said the skip, tossing back the rest of his drink and standing up. “You’re really hot but no lay is worth this much effort.” He tossed some money on the bar and walked away. 

“No—wait!” Emma tried to follow but as soon as she stood up a jolt of pain shot through her hand and made her woozy. Her wound was bleeding profusely now, dripping into the spill of white wine on the bar and turning it pink. The bartender was frantically trying to mop up the mess with one hand and waving a handful of cocktail napkins at Emma with the other. 

“Ma’am…”  he said faintly, “please don’t bleed on the upholstery…” Emma took the napkins and tried again to pursue the skip. She squeezed the paper against her palm in an attempt to stop the bleeding but her wound twinged agonisingly under the pressure and she stumbled, crying out again, and then a warm hand gripped her elbow. 

“Swan,” said Killian’s voice in her ear. “Let him go.” 

“No—he’s a skip—he’ll get away—” 

“You can’t chase him down with a bleeding puncture wound on your hand,” said Killian impatiently. “Let him go. You’ll get him another day.” 

Emma looked up at him, her head spinning from the combined effects of pain and blood loss, and his touch on her skin. He eased her back onto the barstool and she didn’t protest, sitting quietly as he took the napkins and dipped them into a glass of water he must have brought from his own table. Cradling her hand in his prosthetic one he gently dabbed the blood from her wound, easing out a tiny shard of glass that had been lodged within it. 

“You should get this seen to properly,” he said, his voice deep and gruff. “But I suppose you won’t.” 

“I hate doctors.” 

“Very understandable, but it might get infected. At least wash it well when you get home.” 

“In rum?” she challenged, hoping to rile him. He didn’t look up. 

“No need,” he said. “A good antibacterial soap should do the trick.” 

He finished rinsing the wound and set the used cocktail napkins aside, pulling a large cloth one from his pocket. She caught her breath as he wrapped it several times around her hand and secured the ends in a tight knot. His new prosthetic moved, she noted vaguely. Much more useful than a hook. No need to use his teeth. 

“There,” he said, stepping back. “That should do it.” 

Emma’s chest was aching, her mind whirling with how familiar and yet how strange this felt. Never, in all the times she’d thought of him over the past three years, not once had she imagined a situation in which Killian Jones didn’t flirt with her. Didn’t challenge her. Didn’t even fucking look at her. Flirty Hook she could handle, and cocky Hook. Even hot as fuck Hook breathless and wrecked after their kiss in Neverland she could handle. But this calm and controlled man who bandaged her hand without once looking at her face, this man she absolutely could not. She had no idea even what to say to him.

“I guess you think I should thank you,” she snapped. Her pain and confusion were too raw, too much for her to process right now. Anger was easier. It was hot and clean and she had more than enough to spare. 

Anger flashed across Killian’s face as well and she felt a perverse thrill at the sight of it. Good, she thought, he should be angry. She wanted to make him furious. 

“Don’t trouble yourself,” he snarled. “I have no need of any gratitude from you.”  

She hissed in a breath sharp with hurt and they glared at each other, the air thickening with the tension between them, brittle and volatile and unbearable.  

“Killian,” said a small, quiet voice, and they both turned to see the woman standing awkwardly a few feet away, twisting her hands together. “I’ve paid the bill,” she said. “I—I’m going to go.” 

The anger drained from Killian’s face, replaced by regret and guilt and a deep sorrow that made Emma feel ashamed. “Aye,” he said. “I’ll accompany you.” 

For a moment Emma thought the woman would refuse, but then she gave a small nod. Killian offered her his arm and she slid hers through it, and they left the restaurant together, not looking back. 

Emma shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if a million eyes were watching her. She swept the room with a defiant glare and as soon as Killian and the woman disappeared through the doors she headed towards them herself. With any luck she’d still be able to catch the skip before he could get the clamp off his car. She hoped so. She hoped he ran when she confronted him. She hoped he fought back and gave her an excuse to punch him in his stupid smug fucking face.

…

Killian dropped Anabel at her door with a kiss on the cheek and an apologetic smile, hating himself for the hurt confusion in her eyes. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, squeezing her hand. She gripped his fingers hard. 

“Who is she?” she whispered. 

Guilt stabbed at him, followed by suffocating regret. He genuinely and deeply cared for Anabel, and he’d tried so bloody hard to be happy with her. He was almost happy, as close as he could remember being for the best part of three centuries, and so naturally he’d gone and buggered it the first chance he got. One glimpse of Emma pale and bleeding had wiped Anabel and his hard-won contentment and every other bloody thing clean out of his mind, and he had acted without a thought for anyone but her. 

“Someone from my past,” he replied. “I haven’t seen her in years. I thought I’d put her behind me but—” 

“You still love her,” said Anabel flatly. It wasn’t a question. 

Killian sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this here, or now, or ever, but he owed Anabel the truth. 

“I don’t know how to stop.” 

She nodded, blinking hard as tears filled her eyes. He pulled her into his arms, tucking her head against his shoulder, soothing her as they fell. “I’m so sorry, Bela,” he said softly. “I care so much for you and I truly thought that we could—” 

She pulled out of his embrace and shook her head. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t make any decisions now. Sleep on it. Talk to her, figure out whatever needs figuring. I’ll wait.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to—” 

“I’ll wait, Killian.” She leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips. “You’re worth it.” 

…

You’re worth it. Those words followed Killian home, chased him through his door and straight to his stash of rum. He’d mostly given up drinking it, needing to be sharp for his classes and limiting himself to a beer or two when he wanted to relax, but there were times that simply called for the hard stuff. 

He poured himself a generous glassful and tried not to let the words ring in his ears. You’re worth it. It was worrying, how hard such things still were for him to hear. No one had thought him worth much of anything for so long that he’d come to believe it himself. To internalise it, in the terminology of this realm.

He knew of course that he had some good qualities. He was intelligent and quick to learn, resourceful and decisive and courageous. A man couldn’t survive centuries in command of a pirate crew without at least a few of those attributes. But they counted for little when his shortcomings were constantly cast up at him by the one person he most wished to impress. Well you are a pirate… I’ve got magic, he’s got one hand… let me guess, with you?

Emma had certainly never thought he was worth much. Not worth staying in Storybrooke for. Not worth taking a chance on. Not worth loving. 

While he, fool that he was, could never stop loving her. 

He was deep into his fourth glass when his doorbell rang, and he knew without even looking who it was. Ignore it, whispered his sensible voice in his ear, but Killian was too drunk and too angry for the sensible option. 

The moment the door swung open Emma charged in, shoving him back and slamming it behind her. She rounded on him, fisting her uninjured hand in his shirt collar and pulling him against her. 

“I lost my skip because of you,” she hissed. 

In her heels and his stocking feet they stood eye-to-eye, pressed together from chest to knee, and every nerve in Killian’s body screamed in pleasure at the contact. He grabbed her hand and yanked it off him, pushing her away so forcefully she nearly fell. “You lost your skip because you broke your glass,” he snapped. “It was nothing to do with me.” 

“You distracted me. While I was working.” 

He glared at her. “What are you on about? I was having dinner, or about to—”

“You were flaunting that woman—” 

“Flaunting?”

“With the rose and the pulling out her chair and—” 

“That is simply how I treat the women I date, Swan,” he said, stepping closer to her again, backing her against the wall.  

Emma’s cheeks flared bright pink but she didn’t back down. “What, even when I’m not watching?” she sneered. 

“I wasn’t aware you were watching tonight!”  

“Oh, like you didn’t notice me as soon as you walked in.” 

Her breath was coming in short pants, the tips of her breasts brushing against his chest with each inhale, and his lust clawed inside him like a living thing desperate to get out. Killian leaned in until their lips were almost touching, torturing himself with her little gasp and the way her eyes darkened. “No, actually,” he growled. “I didn’t.” 

He pushed away from the wall and smirked at her. “I know this is difficult for you to grasp, love, but not everything in my life revolves around you,” he said harshly. “Until two weeks ago I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“Oh, so you just happened to be out on a date at the same place I was?” 

“That place being my girlfriend’s favourite restaurant, where we’ve dined many times before, you mean?” 

Emma’s lip curled. “Your girlfriend—”

“Aye. Of nearly a year.” 

“—you expect me to believe that Captain Hook has a girlfriend?” 

“No, Killian Jones has a girlfriend,” he hissed, stepping closer again. “What, Swan, did you imagine I would pine away in celibacy forever because you wouldn’t have me?” 

“Of course not! That was never—we were never—” 

Abruptly all his anger, his frustration, his lust, the electric thrill of sparring with her again drained away, leaving him numb but for the gnawing ache in his heart. “Indeed,” he said, and turned away. “We were never.” 

“That’s not what I meant, Killian.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

He stalked into the kitchen and retrieved his glass of rum, tossing it back and refilling it with a hand that was not quite steady. Before he could pick it up again Emma appeared at his elbow, whisking the glass away and taking a long drink. 

“Help yourself, love,” he snarked. She handed the glass back to him and he drained it, setting it down on the table. She refilled it without a word and took another drink. He sighed. 

“Why are you here, Swan?” he asked. “What do you want from me?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Fury licked at him again. “You don’t know,” he hissed. “Is that so? Well perhaps I can enlighten you.” He took the glass from her and emptied it, then slammed it down. “You wanted to make sure that I was still your faithful pet,” he spat. “That I would still come running the moment you crooked a finger, desperate for any scrap of your attention—”  

“That’s not true—”

“—despite your utter rejection back in Storybrooke and your complete lack of interest in me or my life in all the time we’ve been apart.” 

“I asked about you, or I tried—” 

“You tried.” 

“Yes! Every time I talk to my parents I ask—well, not ask but I try to—I thought you were still in Storybrooke!” 

“And so you thought you’d just use your parents to check up on me? And it never struck you as odd that they didn’t know anything?” 

“I just—I couldn’t—” 

“You couldn’t ask them directly because then they would know you were curious,” he concluded. “And we couldn’t have that, could we darling?” 

She grabbed the rum glass and refilled it. He watched as she tossed it back, wishing he could ignore his body’s reaction to her—that constant itch to touch, to trace the curves outlined by her clinging dress and sink into the softness of her hair. He still remembered how it felt beneath his fingers in Neverland, the taste of his rum on her tongue… he wanted to taste it on her again, to lick the traces of it from her lips and then deep into her mouth, wanted to rip that dress from her body and plunder her. The dark heat that flared in her eyes as she caught him staring, as she let the rim of the glass trail across her lower lip, said she knew exactly what he was thinking and she wouldn’t stop him. That she wanted everything he did. 

Slowly she set the glass down and stepped closer, close enough that he could smell her hair and feel her breath against his cheek. His cock was rock hard and he cursed it, cursed his helplessness to resist the pull she exerted on him. His hand curled around her waist without his permission, and when a small, satisfied smile curved her lips it slid down to grip her arse and pull her tight against him. 

She stiffened and for the briefest moment he thought she might pull away, and then she moaned and rolled her hips and he was lost. His arm wrapped around her waist as hers curled around his neck, he plunged his hand into her hair and she tugged at his, bringing their lips together in a clash of heat and lust and fury. She tasted just as he remembered and this time he chased it, battling her for control of the kiss. If they were going to fuck like this, he thought, in anger and animosity and not lovingly, reverently as he had so often dreamed… if they were going to fuck, they were going to do it his way.  

He slid his hands beneath her dress and hooked the index finger of his prosthetic beneath the thin strap of her thong, snapping it easily. She gasped against his mouth and he chuckled darkly, trailing into a groan as his fingers found the slick heat between her legs. She was so soft and so bloody wet—wet for him—that his head spun and his knees went weak, and he forgot his anger and their fight and sought only to pleasure her, pushing two fingers inside her and stroking her clit with his thumb, thrilling to the sound of her low moan and the sharp pain of her fingernails digging into his arms. 

He tugged her head back and trailed his mouth down her neck as his fingers worked inside her, dragging the neckline of her dress down with his teeth until her breast was freed then swirling his tongue around her nipple. 

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped. “Hook.” 

He jerked away like she’d doused him in ice water, his anger flooding back. 

“No,” he hissed. “Killian.” 

Emma’s eyes flashed defiance, “Hook,” she insisted, scraping her fingernails down his chest, popping buttons as she went. He knocked her hands away with his prosthetic and backed her up against the kitchen counter, his fingers still inside her, squeezing his hand to grind the heel of it hard against her clit, wrenching a helpless moan from her.   

“You want Hook?” he snarled. “Do you?”

“Yes!” 

“Well, you can’t have him. It’s me or nobody and I swear by all the gods in the heavens, Swan, if you call me by that name again I will kick you out of my house as you bloody are.” 

She glared at him, chest heaving, and he could see how badly she wanted to defy him. He prayed he’d have the strength to carry out his threat if she did. Their harsh breaths sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness of the kitchen until Emma bucked her hips against his hand and conceded. 

“Killian, then,” she said, grudging but breathless, like the name was an intimacy that she resented but also craved. He pressed her clit harder and she moaned again. “Killian,” she breathed, and it sent a spear of pure lust through him. 

He pulled his hand from between her legs and stepped back, holding her gaze as he put his fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean. “My bedroom is upstairs,” he said. “First door on the left.” 

Her eyes flashed again and then she straightened up, reached behind her back and in one quick movement unzipped her dress and shimmied free of it, smirking when he hissed in a breath at the sight of her naked body. She stepped out of the pile of fabric, still in her heels, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. 

“I’ll be waiting,” she said, and sauntered from the room. 

Killian ground his fist into the countertop and forced himself to count to sixty before following her. 

When he arrived she was sitting on his bed, leaning back on both hands with her legs crossed, one shoe dangling from the tip of her toe. He stopped in the doorway and feasted his eyes on the sight of her toned limbs and smooth skin as he slowly undressed, not missing the catch in her breath when he undid his trousers. 

“Curious, love?” he taunted. 

“Very.” 

He pushed the garments down, trousers and underpants together, smirking as her eyes widened and she drew a deep breath. 

“Well,” she purred, “you did promise I’d feel it.” 

He ignored the stab of anger, bit back the retort that it was Hook who’d told her that, and put a swagger in his hips as he closed the short distance between them. She sat up eagerly and reached for him but he caught her hand and held it back. 

“I want your mouth,” he said. “No hands.” 

She shot him a venomous glare but complied, laying her hands flat on the bed as she took his cock in her mouth, swirled her tongue around the tip then sucked hard. He clenched his teeth against an aching moan, wove his fingers through her hair and tried not to perish from the sheer pleasure of living out one of his favourite fantasies. 

She took him deep in her mouth, alternating hard suction with lazy strokes of her tongue and quick scrapes of her teeth until he couldn’t take any more and pushed her away, shoving her back onto the bed where she lay panting and looking very pleased with herself. 

“Too much?” she taunted. 

“For now.” He leaned over her, running his hands up the insides of her thighs and spreading them wide, then slipped his arms beneath them and buried his face in her cunt. She gave a strangled cry as he licked through her folds then sucked on her clit, pressing the tip of his tongue hard against it. Her hips bucked as she tried to push them up against his face but he held her down, licking her far more gently than he knew she wanted and forcing her to accept it. 

“Damn you, Killian,” she snarled, clutching at his head. He laughed and she gasped at the feel of the vibrations on her swollen flesh, then moaned when he resumed his onslaught, as hard as she liked this time, licking and sucking her roughly until she lay teetering just on the edge. 

“No…” she whimpered when he pulled away, blindly reaching for him as he leaned across her to yank open a drawer on his bedside table and withdraw a condom. He handled it with practiced ease, holding it securely in his prosthetic and tearing the packet open with his hand. 

Emotions flitted across her face as she watched him, anger laced this time with a touch of hurt. The hurt cut deep into his heart and made him furious. She really did think she’d had him on such a leash that he wouldn’t sleep with anyone else after she rejected him, he thought, giving her a nasty leer as he rolled the condom down his length. Her nostrils flared but she didn’t look away, and when he finished she grabbed his shoulders and shoved him onto his back, straddling him, kissing him roughly and digging her fingernails into his skin as she positioned his cock at her entrance and took him inside her.  

They groaned together at the sensation, the tight, slick squeeze of it. He thrust up as she ground down, groaning as she tilted her hips and arched her back to take him deeper, dragging her sharp nails down his chest. 

“Ugh that’s so good,” she moaned, and as they found their rhythm and began to move in perfect tandem Killian could only agree. Emma's head was thrown back, her hair curling wildly over her breasts and down her back, her muscles squeezing him as they rocked together in the most glorious dance of his life, and had he not already been as deeply in love as a man could be Killian knew that he would have fallen then. His hurt and anger ebbed away and he lost himself in sensation, in the indescribable bliss of sinking into the woman he loved and feeling her clenched tight around him, the sound of her sighs and moans in his ear. It was a feeling he never thought he’d know again after Milah, and certainly never dreamed he might know it with Emma. 

You don’t, he tried to remind himself. This is only sex. She doesn’t love you. She never will.   

He didn’t care about that though; in this moment with this woman he couldn’t care. He could only feel, and make the most of this one chance to feel these things with her. 

Emma’s breaths grew faster, harsh and short and catching in her throat, and as her rhythm began to falter he could tell that she was close. Gripping her arse tightly he flipped them over until she was spread out beneath him. She hummed in approval and hiked her leg up over his hip as he thrust in deep, driving her hard into the mattress over and again until she gasped and cried out, her eyes squeezed shut and back arching as a pink flush spread across her skin. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen and it sent him flying over the edge, choking out his own cry as ecstasy gripped him harder than ever before. He collapsed onto his side and pressed his face into the crook of her neck, conscious of little more than the smell of her skin and the gentle caress of her fingers through his hair. 

They lay like that until their breathing calmed and their skin cooled, and gradually reality began to encroach. Killian forced himself against every will he had to move, untangling himself from her and rolling over to remove the condom and dispose of it in the bin next to his bed then grabbing a handful of tissues to clean them both up. 

He dreaded what he would see when he turned back again but Emma still lay where he’d left her, her face calm and showing no signs of panic or regret. She took the tissues he offered without comment and cleaned herself, grimacing a little when she handed them back. He dropped them in the bin along with his own and took a deep breath, waiting for the excuses he knew had to be coming, for the sound of her getting up and running away, leaving him yet again. When the bed shifted but none of those things came he risked another look at her. 

She was snuggling back against the pillows, and as he watched she pulled back the blankets and slid beneath them. He held his breath and did the same, swallowing hard when she slid over to him and curled herself against his chest. 

“Emma—” he began. 

“No,” she said firmly. “No.” 

She cuddled closer, slipping a leg between his and an arm around his waist. He tangled his fingers in her hair, stroking a silky strand between his thumb and forefinger as she hummed in contentment and closed her eyes. A moment later so did he.  

He didn’t know how long he lay there, his eyes half-closed and his nose in her hair. He was adrift in the moment, this extraordinary, unbelievable moment of softness between them when Emma not only allowed him to hold her but actually snuggled into him, fitting her body to his like it belonged there, like there was nowhere else she wished to be. Killian suspected she would regret it in the morning and when she woke she would push him farther away than ever. But now, here, in this moment, she was his. 

Her skin was so soft, he marvelled, so silky beneath his fingertips that he couldn’t stop himself from touching her, gently stroking down her body, the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip, down her thigh and up again, over her arse and along the ridge of her spine to sink once more into her hair. 

Slowly he became aware that she was touching him as well, her hand trailing over his thigh and hip, up his back and down his shoulder, pausing briefly to explore the tattoo there then slipping further on to sift her fingers through the hair on his chest. He caught his breath as she discovered the scatter of tiny stars tattooed across his heart, almost lost among the dark strands, and traced the pattern they described with unnerving accuracy. 

She looked up at him with eyes hazy with desire, blinking slowly as he brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing the dimple in her chin. He kissed the dimple, thrilling to the little hum of enjoyment she gave. He kissed her nose and her forehead and both her cheeks, and then, finally, her lips. 

The kiss was slow and soft and and achingly tender. Killian poured his whole self into it and everything he felt for her, fully aware of what he was confessing but unable to care. Emma knew his feelings whether she wished to accept them or not, and he had nothing to lose. 

She opened her mouth with a soft moan and took the kiss deeper, pulled him closer, her tongue on his sending heat licking up his spine, her hands stroking it across his skin. He wanted to touch her everywhere, worship her as he had in his dreams, distil a lifetime of devotion through the prism of this one act. But there wasn’t time for all he wished to do and so he made do with what he craved the most. The soft weight of her breast in his palm and the hard peak of its nipple, how she moaned into his mouth as he stroked it with his thumb.  His fingers caressing her, slowly down her belly then between her legs, sinking deep into her velvety heat. Her tongue soft and wet as she licked down his neck, nipping at him, leaving marks that would linger on his skin for days and break his heart anew each time he saw them. 

Emma shifted beneath him, aligning their bodies and lifting her knees to cradle him, holding him close and kissing him hard as he slid inside her. The wet warmth of her mouth and her cunt made him dizzy; the squeeze of her legs around his waist and the clutch of her hands on his shoulders and back urged him on. He tried to go slowly, to make this last as long as possible, but the sounds of her pleasure, the way she clung to him, the sheer elation of sharing this with her—however illusory it may be—was too great to withstand, and far too soon they fell. 

She gasped and he groaned as ecstasy gripped them both, her fingers curling through his hair and pressing his forehead to hers, their eyes locked as she fluttered around him and that gorgeous flush suffused her skin once again. Caught in the delicate tenderness of the moment, wrapped in intimacy and awash in sensation, Killian struggled to contain the words he longed to say to her. He tried his best to hold on to what he knew was true—that this was just an interlude, a moment soon to end—but against all good sense, his better judgement, and even his will, he felt that tiny, stubborn bud of hope bloom yet again in his heart. Perhaps, it whispered to him as he rolled onto his side and Emma followed, curling herself tightly around him and sighing contentedly against his chest as they drifted off to sleep. Perhaps.

…

A prickly sensation in her arm woke Emma. She resisted it, groaning internally and trying to will herself back to sleep. It was far too early to be awake, she could tell that much even through her drowsy haze. It was early and she was so comfortable but for the prickly arm, warm and contented and relaxed, with Killian’s chest beneath her cheek and his arms tight around her. 

Killian— With a jolt Emma came fully awake, staring up at his sleeping face with eyes gone wide in dismay. What the hell had she done? 

Slept with Killian Jones was what she’d done—God, she couldn’t even call him Hook in her head anymore. She’d charged into his house and drunk his rum and had sex with him—twice!—and it had been just everything she had ever fantasised about and more. So much more. Far, far too much more. 

She forced herself to pull away, away from the warmth of his arms and of him. The fact that she had to force herself had panic gripping her chest. She wanted to stay, she realised with a flash of the same terror that had sent her running from him in Storybrooke and the same regret she’d felt on realising, not even a week after her return to New York, that leaving him had been a terrible mistake. For three years she’d tried to bury her regret over that one rash decision, buried it and ignored it and denied it, without success, and now here, finally, she had the chance to make things right. All she had to do was slip back into his arms, curl up where she wanted so badly to be and go back to sleep. 

But she couldn’t—it was too much, too fast, and she wasn’t ready. His feelings were too big for her to deal with and hers… hers she couldn’t even bear to think about. She scrambled away, trying not to jostle him, but his eyes blinked open anyway and she froze just on the edge of the bed, caught by the look in them. He had such expressive eyes, true windows to his soul as the saying went, laying bare his every thought and feeling, and it had always amazed Emma that he never seemed to mind how vulnerable they made him. He’d hidden nothing from her, not since Neverland and not until these past few weeks when the cold, shuttered blankness in those beautiful eyes had cut her more deeply than she’d realised. They weren’t blank now, though, but brimming with emotion—with hurt and anger and a weary, hopeless resignation that clawed at her heart.

“I...” she began, trailing off when she realised she had no idea what to say, how to explain. How to make him understand. 

Killian sighed and leaned over the edge of the bed. She heard a drawer opening and then a soft t-shirt landed in her lap. “You can wear that downstairs,” he said. “Your dress is on the kitchen floor.” 

“Killian—” 

Emma groped for the words to tell him that she didn’t want this to be the end, that she wasn’t trying to run from him again. She just needed some time and a bit of space to process all the things that had happened and how she felt about them. But his face was blank again and his eyes so terrifyingly hard that the words wouldn’t come. 

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t fucking bother. Just go.” 

She swallowed over the aching lump in her chest. “I never meant for this to happen,” she whispered. 

He snorted. “Let’s not kid ourselves, love,” he said, and she flinched at the bitter edge in his voice. “You’ve wanted to know how I fuck since the beanstalk. Now that you’ve finally got it out of your system perhaps we can both move on.” 

“Move on,” she choked. “You’ve done that already.” 

“I’ve certainly tried,” he said. “Anabel makes me happy. She actually likes me for myself and while you may not think I deserve that I choose to believe I do. I’ve worked bloody hard to put my past behind me and build a respectable life in this realm.” 

A life that doesn’t include you, his words implied, and she nodded, fighting the tears that prickled behind her eyes. She slipped the t-shirt over her head and scrambled from the bed, grabbing her shoes as she fled, desperate to get away from him before he could see her cry. 

…

Killian managed to hold off his own tears until he heard his front door close behind her and then they came in a torrent. All the anguish he’d kept so tightly locked away these last three years—the heartbreak and the guilt, the regret over the life he’d led and the choices that had shaped him into someone a woman like Emma could never love—came rushing forth like the sea through the hull of a sinking ship. He turned his face into the pillow that still carried her scent and wept for all he had lost in the course of his long life, for every terrible deed he’d done and every beautiful thing his touch had destroyed. He wept until he had nothing left inside him, until he sank into a restless, dreamless sleep. 

 When he awoke again the sun was pouring in through his windows with offensive brightness and he groaned, rubbing his eyes and wishing that just once the habits born of centuries on the sea would leave him alone to wallow in his bed. Instead he dragged himself up and stumbled into the bathroom where he splashed cold water on his face and ignored his hollow-eyed reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, then went downstairs. 

In the kitchen he found his t-shirt, folded almost neatly and draped across the back of a chair. With shaking hands he picked it up and pressed it against his cheek—just for a moment—then with a guttural cry flung it away against the wall. 

…

Emma spent the next week driving herself as hard as she could, working the toughest cases, the longest hours, hounding the staff at the new office with her demands. Anything, anything, to avoid having to think. If she stopped moving even for a second she saw Killian’s face in her mind’s eye and heard his voice telling her to go, and the ache of loss would hit her again, as fresh and raw as the moment it happened. 

Losing something she’d never really had shouldn’t hurt so much, she thought, and frankly she resented it. She felt swamped by a strange sort of untethered frustration, an uncomfortable feeling and uncomfortably familiar. She’d last felt it back in Storybrooke, that antsy itch under her skin whenever Killian was near, in the few quiet moments they’d shared in between battling flying monkeys and breaking curses. She’d managed to ignore it then, seizing on the witch and the curses and Neal as convenient distractions, excuses not to think about Killian or her feelings or what he wanted from her. What she wanted from him, what they could have. And as soon as those distractions were gone she had run. Just as she always did. As she would continue to do, damn it, until she found something that made her want to stay. 

She refused to think about how badly she’d wanted to stay in Killian’s bed. 

...

“Mom,” said Henry the following Saturday, coming into the living room to find her dusting the corners of the bookshelves, “can I ask you something?”

“Hmmm?” Emma dragged her attention away from her determined assault on the cracks in the wood. “Sure. What’s up?”

Henry shifted uncomfortably. “Um, have you—have you seen Hook at all since we moved here?” 

“Killian,” said Emma automatically.

“What?” 

She felt her face grow hot. “He prefers to be called Killian now.”

“So you did see him!” cried Henry. 

Emma set her dusting rag down with a sigh. “Yeah. I did.” 

“Did you guys have a fight or something?”

“Kind of, I guess. It’s hard to explain.” She cast a sideways glance at her son. “Grown-up stuff.”

“Mom,” sighed Henry, with his special ‘I’m a teenager now’ eyeroll. “I’m not a kid anymore and I’m not stupid. I know that you and Killian—that there was something going on with you guys in Storybrooke and I know that’s part of the reason you left.”

“Henry—”

“And I saw how you reacted when I told you he was here. It’s okay to talk to me about it.”

Emma made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. 

“I mean, no details,” he said with a grimace. “But like, in general.”

“Henry.” Emma rubbed her temples. “I appreciate it, really. But I can’t. I can’t even think about it.” 

“You really should. It’s not a good idea to hold stuff like that inside.” 

“Stuff like what?” 

“You know. Feelings. You hold yours in too much.” 

“I know. I know I do.” She frowned at him. “How did you know there was… something with us in Storybrooke?”

“It was pretty obvious, Mom. He came all the way from the Enchanted Forest to New York to get you, and then when we got back to Storybrooke you two were always talking together or at Granny’s, and when you weren’t with him you asked him to babysit me. Which you wouldn’t do unless you trusted him.”

“That’s true,” Emma whispered. She had trusted Killian. She did. 

“And then after we moved back to New York you never asked about him,” Henry continued. “When you talked to Grandma and Grandpa you asked them about everybody in Storybrooke, even my mom. Even Leroy. But you never asked about him. If he’d only been a friend you would have.” 

Emma shook her head. “Kid, when did you get so smart?” 

“Duh, I always have been. Thanks for noticing.” They were silent for several minutes before Henry spoke again. “And you know,” he said, “I wouldn’t mind. If you wanted to, you know. Date him.” 

“Really? Would you really want me to be with a pirate?” 

Henry shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to think of him that way anymore. But I always liked him, mostly. He took me sailing and told me about my dad. And he’s probably the best teacher I’ve ever had. And he’s been looking really sad all week.” 

“He has?” 

“Yeah. Everyone’s noticed. He’s all quiet in class, not like he usually is. And he hasn’t been having lunch with Miss Hartfield.” 

Emma’s heart gave a painful thump. “Miss Hartfield?” 

“The physics teacher,” Henry clarified. “They always used to have lunch together. All the girls in my class thought they were dating and now they’re all crying cuz they think they’ve broken up.” 

“Is Miss Hartfield a very pretty brunette with dark blue eyes?” 

“Yeah.” Henry looked surprised. “How did you know?”

“I—met her. Last weekend. She was having dinner with—with Killian. I guess they really are dating. The girls in your class should be happy.” 

“Oh.” Henry’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m really sorry, Mom—” 

“It’s okay.” Emma swallowed hard and forced a smile when he gave her a skeptical look. “Really! I’m okay.” 

“You’re not—” 

“I am.” Emma wrapped her arm around Henry’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. “Or I will be. I just—need a little time. Is your homework done, by the way? Speaking of your teachers.” 

“Oh, yeah, nice segue.” Henry rolled his eyes, playing along, though it was clear from his face that he didn’t believe her. “It’s nearly done.” 

“Well, get it all done and then what do you say we order pizza and watch some bad movies. Unless you’ve got other plans?” 

“Nope. I’m all yours.” 

…

By the next Thursday, Emma had almost convinced herself that she was fine. Killian still crept into her thoughts far more than she’d like but the ache he brought she convinced herself was less severe. She didn’t have to fight so hard to stop the tears from welling up or keep herself constantly distracted.  

It’s like he said, she told herself fiercely. It was just an itch that needed scratching, and now it’s scratched that’s it. No hard feelings. No feelings at all. 

Thursday afternoon as Emma was leaving work, Henry texted her that his friend Becca was having some problems and wanted to talk and he was going to her house for a little bit. His homework was nearly done, he said, and he promised to finish it when he got home.  

Said homework was spread out over the dining table when Emma returned and she went to gather it up and put it to one side so she could sit there herself and have some dinner. Her heart skipped when she saw it was astronomy he’d been working on, the book still open to a page illustrated with several constellations. One of them caught her eye. It looked like a slightly tilted cross with bent arms, and it tickled something in her memory. 

She frowned and bent down to get a closer look. That pattern of stars looked so familiar. Emma racked her brains trying to remember where she could have seen it before. It couldn’t have been that long ago, she thought, and—oh. Oh. She flushed as the memory resolved with uncomfortable clarity, and her heart began to pound. 

She recognised that pattern because she had traced it herself through the hair on Killian’s chest, connecting the sprinkle of stars tattooed over his heart. She remembered thinking how odd it was, him having a tattoo there where it was practically invisible. His other tattoos were elaborate and brightly coloured and on places where he had less hair, but those tiny stars she would never have noticed if she hadn’t had her face pressed right up against them. 

It did make sense, she reasoned, for an astronomy teacher to have a constellation tattoo, though all his others featured names and clear associations with people from his past. But this one—Emma peered more closely at Henry’s book looking for the constellation’s name, and when she found it sank slowly into the chair, her knees gone too weak to support her. 

It was the constellation Cygnus. The swan. Killian had a swan tattoo. Right above his heart. 

He was in love with her. 

Emma let her head fall into her hands as the full force of that realisation hit her, with the strength and fury of a hurricane. She was aware he had feelings, strong ones, and though she’d never let herself think too much about them she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t known. But this… this was serious. He wouldn’t put her permanently on his body with Milah and with Liam unless it was big-L love. Killian loved her, or at least he had. Did he still? Could he still, after what had happened between them?

She closed her eyes and thought about the last words he’d spoken to her, about his girlfriend—Anabel—and how happy he was. Her breathing sped up an her hands trembled as she recalled it, the memory she’d tried hardest to escape and with the least success. The closed expression on Killian’s face and the flat tone of his voice were etched into her mind as clearly as if she were back there in his bedroom living that terrible moment all over again, and she realised with a flash of shock that he’d been lying. She’d been too upset to see it at the time but now her superpower was screaming at her. He’d lied to her, and not even well. 

A bubble of hope rose up in her heart. If Killian was lying about being happy, about having moved on, then maybe… maybe there was a chance that he still loved her. Maybe if she told him how much she missed him… if she reached out, if she tried… maybe they could actually talk. The way he’d acted the other times they’d met… his coolness, his distance, his anger… of course he was just trying to protect his heart from further hurt. She could certainly understand that. But if she told him, if they talked, then she could fix this. She could get the old Killian back again—the one who looked at her with warmth in his eyes and always believed in her. The one she could now admit to herself that she deeply and desperately missed, not the way you miss a friend you haven’t seen in a while but like a part of herself was gone. 

She sent Henry a quick text telling him where she was going and raced out the door. Ten minutes later she was standing in front of Killian’s, practically leaning on the bell. 

Killian opened his door and for the first time looked surprised to see her standing there on his small porch. 

“Swan!” he exclaimed. “Is Henry okay?” 

“Um.” Emma frowned. “Yeah, he’s fine. Why would you think he wasn’t?” 

“Why else would you be here?” 

“I wanted—” She took a deep breath. “Can we talk?” 

“Talk,” he repeated in an incredulous tone, then eyes moved from her face to something behind her and he smiled a huge, fake smile and waved his hand. Emma turned around to see a middle aged woman waving back as she walked down the sidewalk, a similar smile on her face and a very sharp look in her eye. The moment she looked away Killian grabbed Emma’s arm and pulled her through the door. 

“Come inside, Swan, before the whole neighbourhood sees you,” he hissed. 

“Since when do you care about the neighbourhood?” 

“Since I have to live in it.” He glanced around then shut the door tightly. Emma went into to the living room and perched on the edge of the sofa, trying not to fidget. Killian followed but remained standing in the doorway, watching her with a dark scowl.

“What do you want?” he asked. 

“I told you—to talk.” 

“I don’t believe we have anything left to say to each other.” When she didn’t reply he sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “What is it you wish to discuss?”

“Your tattoo.” 

Emotion flashed in his eyes, apprehension and a hint of alarm. It flared just for an instant and then was gone, as thoroughly as if it had never been. Had she not been looking for it, Emma thought, had she not known how to read him as easily as he did her, she’d have missed it completely. “I have many tattoos,” he replied. 

“I’m talking about one in particular. The stars over your heart. It’s a constellation, isn’t it?” 

Killian’s face was like stone. “Aye.” 

“Which one?” 

“Swan—” 

“Exactly.” Emma pounced. “It’s Cygnus. The swan. You have a swan over your heart, Killian.” 

He shrugged. “What of it?” 

“What of it is I don’t think you get tattoos that have no meaning. You’ve got Milah on your arm, Liam on your shoulder, someone called Alice on your hip who I’m willing to bet is your mother, and over your heart is—is—” 

“Is you,” said Killian flatly. “Is that what you want to hear, Emma? The swan is obviously for you. Because I love you, and because I can’t resist torturing myself with permanent reminders of everyone I loved who is lost to me, etched into my bloody skin. Is that what you came here to get me to confess? It’s a poor confession when you already knew.” 

Guilt swamped her, heavy and suffocating. “I didn’t know,” she attempted to protest, her voice quiet but falling like lead in the face of his stark confession.  

Anger snapped in Killian’s eyes, fuelled by a pain she hadn’t seen before. Hadn’t allowed herself to see. “Don’t lie to me, love, and don’t lie to yourself,” he snarled. “Of course you knew. You knew when I all but begged you not to go back to New York, and you still left. You knew when you slept with me and you still tried to sneak away before I awoke. You’ve always known exactly how I felt and it has never once stopped you from breaking my heart.” 

“Killian—” 

“No. I can’t hear this.” He ran a hand over his face. “Go now, Swan, and don’t come back.” 

“Don’t come back?” she choked. 

“What would be the point? We both know where we stand and I—” his voice broke “—I can’t live with a gaping wound in my chest.” He turned to look at her, his face for once not blank but open and raw and with a plea in his eyes that tore at her heart. “Please, Emma. If you care anything at all for me, leave me alone now. Let me have the chance to heal.” 

Emma’s brain was screaming at her to say something, stop him, don’t let this happen, don’t let him go. FIX THIS. But everything he said was true, every angry, hurtful word of it. She had known his feelings and had she had taken them for granted, even used them against him, never thinking of how that might hurt him. She’d caused him so much pain already that she couldn’t now refuse this one small, heartbreaking thing he asked of her. 

It’s too late. You pushed him away one time too many and now he’s gone. 

“I talked to your girlfriend, you know,” she said, forcing the words past the clawing ache in her chest. “At the restaurant, before you got there. She seems really nice.” She risked a look at his face and almost cringed at the wariness in his expression. “I’m glad you’ve found someone like her, Killian. I really am. You do deserve it. You deserve to be happy.” She stood and moved towards the door, refusing to be hurt by the way he visibly tensed as she drew near. “I—I hope you’ll be happy.” With one last look to fix his face forever in her memory she turned and ran from his house. 

…

When she got home Henry was back, sitting at the table with his homework. He looked up to greet her, the cheerful words dying on his lips when he saw her face. He jumped to his feet and hurried over to wrap her in a huge hug. Emma gripped him tightly and let the tears she felt like she’d been holding in forever finally, finally fall. She cried as she could never remember crying before, great heaving sobs that left her empty and drained and clinging limply to Henry’s shoulders.

“What can I do?” he begged. “Mom, tell me what I can do.”  

Emma sobbed again, wondering what she’d ever done to deserve him. “Do you think it’d be okay if I came back to Storybrooke with you this weekend?” she asked. “I just really don’t want to be alone.” 

“Are you kidding?” Henry smiled, a bright smile that did nothing to disguise his worry. “Grandma and Grandpa would love that!” 

“They would. What about Regina?” 

“Honestly, I think she’d be glad to see you too. Everyone would. People have missed you.” 

“And you wouldn’t mind me tagging along?” 

Henry hugged her again. “I’d love it.” 

…

They drove up to Storybrooke as soon as Henry finished school the next day, arriving at her parents’ loft just in time for dinner. Snow and David were as thrilled as Henry had predicted, hugging her between them, smiling widely with damp eyes. Emma found her own eyes growing damp as she leaned into the comfort of their embrace, her heart tripping when David gently cupped the back of her head. 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” said Snow when they finally pulled apart, cradling Emma’s face between her hands. “Why don’t you and Henry go sit at the table?” 

“Is there anything I can—” 

“Nope,” said Snow firmly. “It’s all under control.” 

Emma seated herself at the table between David and Henry and looked around at the loft. “Wow, have you guys changed anything in this place since I was here last?” she asked. 

“Um, I think those curtains are new,” said David absently as he attempted to wrestle a protesting Neal into his high chair. Henry grabbed a toy and distracted his uncle with it long enough for David to get the toddler’s legs through the holes and settle him in. Emma’s heart tripped again. Henry was so comfortable here, far more comfortable with her father and brother than she was, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. 

“We’re thinking of moving, actually,” said David, sitting down next to Emma. “There’s a farm just outside of town that’s for sale, we might buy it.” 

“You want to be a farmer?” said Emma blankly. 

“I grew up a shepherd,” he reminded her. “And this place won’t be big enough once Neal is older and wants his own room. Plus we haven’t entirely ruled out the idea of more kids. So I think it’s an opportunity we shouldn’t pass up. Your mother, on the other hand—” 

“I don’t object to it, exactly,” said Snow as she set a bowl of salad and a large platter of chicken on the table. “It would just mean a long commute if I’m going to keep working with Regina.” 

“You’re working with Regina?” 

“I’m the deputy mayor,” said Snow. 

“You are? Since when?” 

“Um, about two years now?” 

“Oh.” Emma fell silent as her parents launched into a debate on the merits of farm vs town in a way that made it clear that this was an old, comfortable discussion, frequently rehashed. Henry chimed in with a comment every now and then, egging them on, and Emma ate her chicken rather sullenly and tried not to feel left out. 

“So what’s it like being back in Boston after so long?” David asked her, when the conversation hit a lull. 

“It’s fine, I guess.” She shrugged. “A bit weird. I don’t normally like to go back to places I’ve left.”

An awkward silence fell and Emma felt herself flush. “I mean, I’m not saying I never would, but—” 

“How about you, Henry?” Snow jumped in. “How do you like Boston?” 

“It’s pretty cool. I like that there’s so much history. And my school’s really good.”

“Are you still having a hard time with math?” asked Snow, smiling fondly. “I remember that was always your downfall when you were in my class.” 

“No, actually, I’ve got a really great teacher at the new school.” Henry shot Emma a questioning look and she nodded. “It’s, um, actually it’s Hook.” 

“Hook?” David frowned. “What, like Hook Hook? He’s your teacher?” 

“Captain Hook?” said Snow. 

“How many Hooks do you know?” snapped Emma, irritated by their disbelief. 

“Well,” said Snow, now looking surprised at Emma’s vehemence. “It’s just a bit strange, isn’t it? That Hook’s a teacher?” 

“I don’t think so,” said Emma. “He always taught Henry stuff when he used to watch him before.”

“And my dad too,” said Henry. “In Neverland.” 

“Really?” asked David, still frowning. 

“Yeah. He’s the one who taught my dad how to navigate and how to sail. Seriously, Grandpa, he’s really good at it,” said Henry decisively. “Everyone loves his classes.” 

David shook his head. “Not that I don’t believe you, Henry, it’s just hard to imagine. It’s hard to imagine Hook as anything but a pirate.” 

“It’s not that hard,” retorted Emma, stabbing at a piece of lettuce on her plate. 

 “Well, you know, after Pan’s curse when we all landed back in the Enchanted Forest he could hardly wait to get back to his pirate’s life,” David pointed out. “He barely stayed with us for an hour.” 

“Though to be fair, it was mostly his ship he wanted to get back to,” said Snow. “And it’s not like that was an option for him here.” 

“That’s true,” David conceded. “I guess it’s hard to be a pirate when you’ve got no ship. He could’ve stolen one, but I genuinely did have the feeling he wanted to turn over a new leaf.” 

“Wait, wait—what do you mean, no ship?” demanded Emma. “What happened to his ship?” 

Snow, David, and Henry all turned to her in surprise. “Don’t you know?” asked Snow.

“Know what?” 

Snow and David exchanged a glance. “Hook traded his ship,” said David. “For the magic bean he needed to get to New York to find you. Didn’t he tell you?”

“He traded his ship…” Emma’s head began to spin. “For me?” 

“Well, yes, in a way,” said Snow. “Did he really not tell you?” 

“No. He never said a word.” 

“Well I guess we only know because David basically dragged it out of him,” said Snow. 

“He was moping around the town so much after you left,” said David. “Drinking and getting disruptive. I threw him in the cells for a night and in the morning tried to gently suggest he might be happier if he took his ship out for a few days to clear his head, and he said that would be a bloody challenge when Blackbeard had his ship.” 

“Blackbeard!” Henry exclaimed. “I didn’t know that part. He hates Blackbeard. Said he’s the worst kind of pirate, a man with no code and no honour. Why would he trade his ship to Blackbeard?” 

“He didn’t say. I guess he just really wanted to get back here and find Emma.” 

No one was looking at her but Emma could feel the weight of their attention, and she groped desperately for something to say, some way to respond to this revelation. But as always when she was overwhelmed with emotion, no words came. She poked at her food, feeling frozen and numb and so terribly sorry, and desperate for a distraction. 

One came a minute later in the form of a knock on the door. Emma had never been more glad in her life to see Regina, come to pick up Henry with Robin Hood and a delighted Roland at her side. In the bustle and confusion that followed their arrival, Emma slipped away to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, downing half of it in one gulp then pressing the cool glass to her temple as she tried to calm her turbulent thoughts.   

Regina hugged Henry and watched as he hugged Robin and Roland, smiling a smile that made Emma blink with a new shock of astonishment. It was unnervingly soft for the erstwhile Evil Queen, warm and happy. 

“What the hell happened to Regina?” she whispered to her mother when Snow came into the kitchen with their empty plates. 

“What do you mean?” Snow frowned. “She looks just the same to me.” 

“Yeah but remember I haven’t seen her in three years. She looks… well, she looks happy.” 

“She is happy,” said Snow. “She and Robin got married last year you know, and—” she broke off when she saw Emma’s face. “You didn’t know.” 

“Huh-uh.” 

“But didn’t Henry tell you? He gave her away.” 

“I—don’t really ask Henry about his visits here. And you never mentioned it.” 

“You don’t ever seem to want to talk about Storybrooke with me either,” Snow replied. “You ask how everyone is, but whenever I try to offer details you change the subject. Have you left this place behind so completely, Emma?” 

“I’ve tried to,” said Emma, in a burst of honesty. “I wanted to get away from all of it—magic and villains and being the Saviour. I never wanted any of that and I never really felt like I belonged here.” 

“You never really tried,” said Snow. “But there’s always a place for you in Storybrooke, sweetie, whenever you want to take it.” 

…

Killian parked his car in front of Granny’s and got out slowly, taking in the sight of the familiar streets and buildings with a resigned sigh. He hadn’t been back to Storybrooke since he’d moved to Brookline, hadn’t had any desire to return until seeing Emma again had stirred up all the old feelings he’d worked so hard to bury. This past week his new life had felt like it was suffocating him—the students who looked up to him, the colleagues who respected him, Anabel who loved him. All of them so obviously concerned by the shift in his mood, caring about him, and the weight of all the pretence he’d built around himself threatened to crush him. Not a single one of them truly knew him, what he was and the things he’d done, the life he’d led for so very many blood-soaked years, and Killian hadn’t been able to bear another second of their kindness.  

The Rabbit Hole was just as he remembered, loud and raucous and full of people playing their own game of pretend, fuelled by alcohol and shielded by the brittle jocundity of such places. He looked around for Tink but couldn’t see her, and though he strained his ears could hear nothing over the pounding music. He pushed through the crowd towards the bar where he finally caught sight of her, perched on her knees atop a barstool and waving him over. 

“Hey!” she cried, leaping down from the stool and throwing her arms around him. He froze in surprise for a minute then tentatively hugged her back. 

“Tink,” he said cautiously. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, fine.” She released him and stepped back, grinning as she took him in. “I guess I just missed you.” 

“That’s new,” he snorted. 

“Well you used to call me, if you remember, the first year or so after you left. Now I barely hear a word for months on end until suddenly you text to say you’ll be here in three hours and can I put you up for the night. So I have to ask, is everything okay with you?” 

Killian tried to summon his old cocky grin and some quip to reassure her, but they refused to come. Everything wasn’t okay, far, far from it, and he knew this was at the root of his spur of the moment decision to come back to Storybrooke. He needed to talk to someone who truly knew him, all of him, and who had known him at his worst. Tink was, as strange as it may be to think about, his best friend. 

“No,” he said, and watched her eyes widen at the stark honesty of his reply. “I’m not okay. At all.” 

Tink’s face softened and she looped her arm through his, and he let her lead him to an empty pair of stools at the very end of the bar. They sat and Tink ordered a bottle of rum and two glasses, then rested her hand just above his prosthetic and listened, keeping his glass filled as he told her everything. He told her of how hard he’d worked to make a place for himself in this land and build a new life to go with it, and how at times he felt that he’d succeeded in that aim but at others felt a complete fraud. He spoke about his job and how much he loved it and the joy of helping his students learn, but how he still felt unworthy of the trust placed in him by the school and by their parents. He told her about Anabel and how much he wished that he was whole enough to love her and then finally, haltingly, he spoke of Emma. About seeing her again and all that had occurred between them, and the way he’d spiralled afterwards into a depression so deep he wasn’t sure he could recover.

“I’m so tired of living sometimes,” he said. “You know what I mean.” It wasn’t a question but Tink nodded anyway, memories of long nights spent sharing rum and companionship in Neverland hanging thick between them. “Obviously time passes differently there, you have less of a—a sense of it passing, but—” 

“But it still passes,” she said. 

“Aye. It still passes, and I’ve passed so bloody much of it. And sometimes I think about how in terms of the physical age of my body I’m only about thirty-five. I could live another fifty or sixty years, easily, what with the medical marvels in this realm, and at times I just wonder—” he drew a deep breath “—I wonder if that’s really what I want.” 

“You want to die?” Tink asked carefully. 

“Not precisely.” Killian tossed back his rum and she poured him some more. “I’m just exhausted by the prospect of more living. Does that make any sense at all?” 

Tink nodded, sipping her own drink before speaking. “Years can be a burden,” she said. “Fairies are immortal so we don’t feel them the same way humans do, but we see how they affect you. Most humans your physical age would still have a lot left to look forward to but you’ve already lived the lifetimes of at least three men. It’s understandable that the prospect of living another might feel overwhelming.” 

“So what the hell am I supposed to do about it?”

“Well, assuming you don’t actually want to end your life?” 

“I don’t,” he assured her. Though he couldn’t deny that the thought had crossed his mind in his more desperate moments, Killian had fought too hard for his survival to ever end himself by his own hand. 

“Then you have to find something to live for,” said Tink. “Or someone?” 

He shook his head. “Emma doesn’t want me.” 

“It doesn’t have to be Emma.” 

“It can’t be anyone else,” he muttered, glowering into the depths of his glass. “Not for me.” 

“You felt that way about Milah too.” 

“I thought I did, but this is different. Milah and I—we were in love but our relationship wasn’t healthy. I can see that now. We didn’t bring out the best in each other; in fact we probably brought out the worst. She wanted the cocksure pirate and so I leaned into that role, for her. We both leaned into it, and we enjoyed it, the plunder and the destruction and the casual cruelty. I think it made us both feel powerful.” He sipped his rum and shot a sideways glance at Tink, who was watching him attentively and still without judgement. 

“But Emma, though,” Killian continued, setting his glass down and flexing his fingers around it. “Emma makes me want to be better. Even when I thought I’d never see her again, even though I know we’ll never be together I still want to be the man she inspired me to become.” He squeezed the glass harder, almost hoping it would shatter in his hand. “But then, if I’m only being that man because of her is that truly who I am? And how can I try to build a life with someone like Anabel when I know I can’t love her as she deserves and I’m only even remotely like someone she might want because of my feelings for another woman?”

Tink wrapped her arms around one of his and squeezed it sympathetically, resting her head on his shoulder. “I wish I had an answer for you, Hook,” she said. “But who you truly are, or can be, is a question you have to work out for yourself.” She paused as they both drank. “Have you ever considered telling Anabel about your past?” 

He snorted. “Tell a sensible science teacher from the land without magic that I’m Captain Hook? Oh yes that would go over brilliantly.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” said Tink. “I meant telling her a modified version of what happened to you, with your parents and Liam and Milah. Letting her see a bit more of who you are and what shaped you.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Killian sighed and ran his hand over his face. “I’ve thought about it. I genuinely don’t know if it would help or just be a burden on her. For all she knows I’m just a normal man born in Bristol, England in 1981. How would I even begin to fit parental abandonment, a dead brother, and two tragic romances into that man’s life?”

“Two?” 

“She already knows about Emma.” 

“Right. Well, you’d have to get creative, but if it helped her know you better? At least you could try.” 

Killian drank again then tightened his arm to pull Tink closer, resting his cheek on her head as the the pleasant haze he craved began to settle over his mind. “Do you know why I fell in love with Emma?” he asked. Tink shook her head, her hair tickling his nose. “It wasn’t her courage or her kindness or her beauty, though those are all contributing factors. It was because she understood me. We understood each other, from the very beginning, in a way I’d never known before. It scares her but I—I crave it. And that’s what’s missing with Anabel and with every other woman I’ve known, even Milah. That connection of the whole self. It’s something that can’t be forced or—or brought into being. It is or it isn’t, and that’s that.” 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure that I don’t have the energy to sort through all of this realm’s women in hopes of finding a pale reflection of it. I’ve found the love of my life, Tink. It took three centuries but I found her, and I offered her my heart, and she refused it. I don’t think the answer is to try to patch over that wound with another woman. I don’t know what the answer is. Perhaps there isn’t one.” 

He frowned as Tink tensed against him, her eyes going wide. “Perhaps the answer is Emma,” she said. “And you just haven’t asked the right questions yet.” 

He followed her gaze and felt his jaw clench. Tink clung to him for another brief moment, whispering in his ear. “She might still be your answer, Hook. Don’t lose hope just yet.” 

…

Once Henry left to spend the night with Regina and her parents went to put Neal to bed, Emma muttered something about taking a walk and fled the loft, desperate for some space and time alone to sort through her muddled thoughts. As painful and chaotic as they were she knew she had to think them, and feel the feelings that they brought. Already she’d lost so much by trying to run from her feelings. More even than she’d known. 

Killian had given up everything for her. That was the thought that kept echoing in her brain. He’d given up his ship, his home, his most prized possession. He’d given it to a man he hated, all so that he could get back to her, knowing she wouldn’t even remember him. All to bring her back to her family. Her home. 

And what had she done? She’d scorned him and pushed him away, denied her feelings and run away from them and from him the first chance she got. No wonder he was so hurt. No wonder that pain had turned to anger. He should be angry, she thought in disgust, he should hate her. Yet she knew that despite everything he didn’t. He may not want anything to do with her anymore but he didn’t hate her. She almost wished he did. It might actually make the weight of her guilt and regret easier to bear. 

For the first time in her adult life Emma actually, genuinely faced her feelings, and thought seriously about what they were and what they meant. She didn’t love Killian, not the way he loved her, but she could. All the elements were there, from the way they had always understood each other to how easily she’d trusted him to the electric sizzle of their sexual chemistry. It was that could that had scared her, sent her running three years ago. The vulnerability it represented, the loss of control, terrified her. It felt like standing at the edge of an abyss with her her toes hanging over the edge and a gale force wind at her back. She’d fallen into that abyss before with terrible consequences, but then Killian was not Neal. She knew, somehow, beyond any doubt, that if she let Killian Jones into her life he’d never leave her. 

If she had let him in. It was too late now. 

She began to cry again, not with the wrenching sobs she’d cried the day before but with heavy, drenching tears that flooded her cheeks and dripped off her chin faster than she could wipe them away. Her chest felt hollowed out, aching and empty and hopeless.

She caught sight of the neon sign for the Rabbit Hole and swerved abruptly to her right, cutting across the street without looking for cars. Fortunately there were none. This was Storybrooke, after all, even on a Saturday night. And she really, really wanted a drink. 

The Rabbit Hole was fairly busy, its noise and bustle comfortingly familiar. Emma kept her head down as she moved towards the bar, hoping no one would recognise her. It wasn’t until she was nearly there that she spotted Killian. 

He was sitting at the end of the bar with a half empty bottle of rum and Tinkerbelle beside him, her arms looped through his and her head on his shoulder. The obvious, comfortable intimacy between them sharpened the ache in Emma’s chest and reminded her of her suspicions about what their relationship had been in Neverland. She was certain it was more than either of them had let on. 

As she stood frozen and wondering what to do, Tink looked up, her eyes widening in recognition. Killian frowned and followed her gaze and when he saw Emma the look that flashed across his face nearly broke her heart. He shook Tink off and stood up, tossing back the rest of his glass of rum and heading for the door. 

Before she could think better of it, Emma spun on her heel and took off after him. She caught his arm just before he could reach the door and he spun around, yanking it from her grip. 

“Bloody hell, Swan, can I never be free of you!” he cried, and the hopeless defeat in his voice made her tears well again. She forced herself to remember that his feelings were justified, that she had done this to him and that he didn’t owe her forgiveness or anything else. 

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I didn’t know you’d be here and I don’t want to bother you, but Killian—” 

“What?” 

“My dad—he told me what you did. How you traded your ship for a magic bean to come find me in New York.” 

A faint flush coloured Killian’s cheeks and he shifted uncomfortably. “It was nothing,” he said. “Anyone would have—”

“No, anyone definitely would not have,” cried Emma fiercely. “You gave up everything you had to get me back here and then I just turned my back on it, and on you. And I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry, Killian, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just—I wanted you to know.” 

He swallowed hard and gave her a small, guarded smile. “You made what you thought was the best decision for yourself and Henry,” he said gruffly. “That’s all anyone can do. I’m just glad you’re happy.” 

“But I’m not,” she burst out. “I’m not. I mean, I’m not unhappy exactly but I miss—I miss you.” She heard his sharp intake of breath but barrelled on before she could lose her nerve. For once in her life she knew just the words she wanted to say and she was going to say them. 

“And you were right,” she continued. “I knew how you felt about me and I threw it back in your face and pushed you away whenever I could. I was scared of my own feelings, of how strong they were, and I know that’s no excuse but all my life I’ve always run from things like that. I run from things that make me feel too much and I still can’t believe that anyone could really care as much about me as you seemed to and so I ran before I could find out that you didn’t. I know I hurt you. It wasn’t always unintentional, and God, Killian, I am so fucking sorry for that too.” 

She swallowed hard, twisting her hands together, feeling the intensity of his gaze on her but not daring to meet it. “And I know that there’s no chance for—for us anymore but I wanted you to know how much I regret it. There’s nothing in my life I regret more than ruining things between us before they could even really start.” 

Gathering her courage she looked up at him, and caught her own breath at the expression on his face, that soft, intense expression she’d missed so much. “Do you want there to be a chance?” he said hoarsely. “If there was a chance, would you—could you take it?” 

Emma gasped again as hope exploded in her heart and it began to race. She nodded. “Yeah. I think I could. I would.” 

“You think?”

She stepped closer, looking up at him, hardly daring to breathe. Music pounded through the air around them, voices shouted, bodies danced, and they were the only two people in the world. 

“I could,” Emma whispered, “I can and I will if—if that’s what you want too?”

Killian drew a shaky breath and his fingers trembled as he reached up to caress her face, brushing softly across her cheek before sliding into her hair. He pressed his lips to hers in the gentlest kiss of any they had shared, a butterfly’s wing of a kiss, a kiss of promise and forgiveness and hope. Emma sighed into it as it slowly deepened, as Killian’s fingers tightened on the back of her head and hers gripped his jacket and she couldn’t suppress a moan. 

When they broke apart she was breathless and dizzy and he was beaming, a bright, dazed grin that made her heart soar as he leaned his forehead against hers. “Do you really mean it, Emma?” he whispered. “You really want—” 

“You,” she said. “Yeah. I want you, and I want us.” 

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I’m yours, love,” he said. “As you know.” 

“Just like that?” Emma pulled back enough to look at his face while keeping her arms tight around him. “After all the hurt I caused you, you can just forgive me?” 

“Aye, just like that. I’m not saying all the hurt is healed or that we don’t have  things to work through. But of course I can forgive you. I love you.” 

“Killian—” 

“Shhhh, let’s just leave it there for now,” he said. “It’s nothing we didn’t both already know. We’ll work on the other half later.” 

“Later,” Emma murmured, snuggling back into his arms. “I like the way that sounds.” 

…

@thisonesatellite​ @katie-dub​ @mariakov81 @stahlop @teamhook @kmomof4 @shireness-says @thejollyroger-writer​ @snowbellewells​ @jennjenn615​ @tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​ 

[aftgficrec]

Hallo! rarepair time! Any aaroneil or even just friendship? I think if Neil gave him a chance, things coulda worked out!

There are a few for the pairing and quite a lot for the friendship, especially in previous asks (of which many have more recs at the top). -A

check out:

Neil is friends with Aaron before Andreil ask

aaron accepting of andreil

aaron protective of neil,

‘Hold each other ch 8 Time Does Things’ and ‘A new start’ in  Neil protective of the Foxes

‘Spirit’ from ace!aaron

‘Family Comes First’ from Andrew with a better past

this trans, nonibinary neil reader rec

‘To Build A Home’ here, ‘ten and a half stories’ here

‘Hold each other ch 13 Hardware' here

‘I will love you more…’ here

Neil & Aaron Friendship

Neil being the TA of one of Aaron’s super difficult math classes!! hc by @whatmack [Tumblr, 2109]

I’ve said it before but I have!!! So many wonderful feelings and thoughts!!! About Neil helping Aaron with math and Aaron helping Neil with chemistry

aaron & neil talking after aaron’s trial hc by @pixiexstyx [Tumblr, 2019]

- of the foxes, it’s just aaron, andrew, nicky, and neil at the trial

do you have any headcanons for aaron and neil being friends? by @aledethanlast [Tumblr, 2016]

- during Aaron and Andrew’s fifth year, Neil and Andrew’s Cold War reaches a boiling point

BFF stands for Best Found Family by @exactly13percent [Tumblr Fic, 2019]

Neil is exhausted when he comes home. He practically collapses onto the couch—but as usual, his head manages to gently land on Aaron’s lap.

“You smell,” Aaron says.

Neil/Aaron Rarepair

Dani California by njostn [Rated T, 4088 Words, Incomplete, Updated March 2020]

Aaron Minyard saved Neil Josten in more ways than he thought.

But what happens in California stays in California.

tw: implied/referenced attempted non con, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: alcohol, tw: gun violence, tw: blood, tw: canonical character death, tw: panic attack

Freckles by Nikotheamazingspoonklepto [Not Rated (we say M), 23707 Words, Incomplete, Updated Jan 2020]

Neil is desperate for a little help in Biology. His new tutor Aaron is desperate for a little sleep. Neil doesn't quite understand the reason for all of Aaron's blushes, but it won't hurt to keep studying him to find out...will it?

tw: graphic violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: alcohol, tw: implied/referenced drug use, tw: implied/referenced csa 

Art

Neil, Andrew & Aaron outfit dump art by @karasawr, and AU Foxes art with headcanons by @alexizaev