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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years

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Title: Love, Maybe? {44}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

NOTE: **Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

**Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤❤️

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Chapter 44: Surrender

-Vixen-

“A divorce Vix, really?”

You sighed and did your best to ignore her. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy especially now that she found out.

“You can’t ignore me Vixen. I’m like your conscience, your voice of reason. I speak to that part of you that isn’t so withdrawn, the part that wants love, and connection. How do you think you’re going to get any of that by divorcing the man who wants to love you, the man who is trying to connect with you?”

“Nex, let’s not,” you began opening your laptop.

“No, we’re going to.” She came around and slammed it shut again. You gave her an exasperated look.

“No, I’m not afraid of you. One why didn’t you tell me about this? Two, a divorce, is that really what you want? Have you thought about this?”

You really didn’t want to do this. You were already barely hanging on.

“Yes. I’m sure and I have thought about it. What else was I supposed to do Nex? We’re complete strangers. We live in two different worlds, there is no way anything can—this was the right call.”

“You’re full of shit. I know how you feel about him. I know how you’ve always felt about him. You can deny it all you want and ignore it and pretend that you have no feelings for him, but I know the truth. Why can’t you just let him in?”

“I did that twice Nex! I let him in three years ago and he fucked me literally and broke my heart. Then three years later I did it again against my better judgment, against every single alarm inside my head. I did it and surprise, fucking surprise he fucked me again. I am done Nex, I am so fucking done!”

“Both times you made the same fucking mistake. Both times you bit your tongue, you cut yourself off, you distanced yourself, you pulled a Heisman. Both times you were never all in,” Nexus accused.

“For good fucking reason. Why would I be all in with a man who has shown me time and time again why he’s not trustworthy, who shows me how different we are, who shows me why I have these defenses why my freedom is the most paramount thing in the world?!”

“Just say you’re scared and get it over with. You’re scared you’re so in love with him that he can do no wrong and have you fall out of love with him. Hell, you’ve been in love with him for three fucking years and still, you love him. he fucked you over again and you still love him.”

“And I hate him for it!”

Silence filled the room. There is was.

“Vix, there is a thin line between love and hate. What you are forcing as hate could really be such a love that scares you.”

“Nex, I am so drained. I have never been more drained in my life and that includes being pregnant, going to culinary school, and going through labor while I finish exams. I am tired.”

“Then stop running. Yes he fucked up, twice, he should have told you, he should have never taken your choice away from you. I am not condoning it at all, but I understand.”

“Of course you do. Why am I not surprised. You always understand everything he does.”

“Because I choose to. You choose to shut it down, lock it away and never address it. You choose to hope it goes away, but Vix it won’t go away. It’s like a scab, it will keep itching and crusting unless you treat it. Face your fears baby sister, face them and grab them by the horns and take your happiness, take your life back. This isn’t living.”

With your back to her, you stared out the window. You hated when she got this involved. The way you handled things it worked; it had been working. you couldn’t afford to go back to that woman from three years ago. Thankfully your phone rang distracting you from the conversation.

“Hello? Hi Charmaine. No, you’re not interrupting anything. How can I help you?”

You listened to her give you up to date information from Chris’ lawyers and every word she spoke made your heart beat faster and your mind race.

“No, I’m here. Sorry. Um—so that means what exactly?” She spoke again and when she stopped you knew you should have said something but words failed you.

“Thank you. I have to go.” You hung up and took several breaths.

“Who is that?”

“My divorce lawyer,” you informed.

“Wow, you’re serious about this shit. Unbelievable. What did she say?”

“Chris’ lawyers informed her that per Chris, he doesn’t want anything from me. Whatever I had three years ago and since he doesn’t want any of it.”

“No shit!” You looked at her, she looked impatient as if she was sick and tired of you.

“He also said that he won’t fight me for custody, he doesn’t want joint custody, he just wants access to her when he can in San Fran.”

“Again, no shit. I’ve told you that he is not like that and you know he’s not like that. You know exactly who he is and always have. You saw the real him that night in Vegas, the him that you fell for and decided to be carefree with. He’s not an asshole Vix.”

“She said that if I want half of what he has he will not contest it.”

There was silence now, both of you letting that nugget sink in. He was giving you access to everything he owned, no fight. It showed a disregard for it like none of it mattered.

“Yep.” Nexus shook her head then sighed.

“Look, Vix, you’re on the right path to being alone forever, the right path to just let the one man who actually is your equal, your potential match slip right through your hands. You are on the right path to not making sure that Ella’s relationship with him is not the best it can be, the right path of stealing such a happy family and future from her. So, if that is what you want then continue because the outcome is inevitable.”

Once she said the words she walked out leaving you standing there shaking from the impact of what she said. You were going to fall apart; it was only a matter of time. You already didn’t know if you’d made the right decision. You knew you sided with your fear instead of your heart and what made it worse was you felt completely incapable of taking a chance.

Pushing the conversation with Nex away you focused on the tasks for the evening. You walked out of your office and looked out and down to the space below. The restaurant was coming together nicely. It was T minus four days before the grand opening and you were so close to the finish line you could see it.

“Amazing isn’t it?” Beside you, Kassius looked down at the view you were looking.

“It is. I can’t believe that we’re getting so close.”

“You worked hard for this Vixen. I can’t wait for it to pay off. This place looks incredible. You are going to blow minds on Saturday.”

You smiled and felt the excitement bubbling within you. You sure hoped so. It would suck to put this much work, tears, and sweat into something and it be a horrible failure.

“Don’t worry. This is what I do for a living. I take chances but only on things I’m sure about. I’m sure about you Vixen. You’ll see.” He patted your back then walked away. You took a deep breath and tried to knock it into your head that you were going to crush the opening.

The rest of the evening you did your best to stay present and work with the crew that was left there. No job was too small for you, you chipped in and got your hands dirty. Nothing was beneath you. When you left that night you were pleasantly surprised to see that none of the paps were outside. For the first time in weeks, you took a deep breath and walked to your car. You thanked your security and drove down the near abandoned street.

While finishing your errands at the pharmacy you saw the tabloid rack and scanned the covers. At least six of them were about you and Chris. This was still a big adjustment seeing your face plastered on tabloid magazines and having people so interested in everything about you. Over the last week, you’d scanned some of the gossip sights and had read some hurtful things that people were saying but also read some kind ones. It was a toss of the dice type of situation.

One of the covers had Chris’ face on it in the center, but there were several women circling him. The white headlines were all about his history with each of them. When you read the words, your interest piqued. “Chris Evans Married but quite the impressive list of mistresses over the years.” You couldn’t believe the nerve of these gossip magazines.

“What if we were happily married and I saw this?”

You bought the magazine and made it home to find Ella asleep and dinner in the microwave. After a shower, you sat down with a bottle of wine and ate in the dim light of the kitchen. You flipped through the article and saw pictures of him with the women. They were all beautiful, all sexy and all completely different. One of the two things they looked to have in common was the color of their hair. They were all brunette or brunettes with highlights. They all were also white. You knew that you were probably the only woman of color he’d associated with but to see his entire dating history laid out for you cemented it.

For the next near hour, you sat there comparing yourself to these tall, slim, blue-eyed, actresses and models and tried not to feel any jealousy. He’d gotten around these last three years. While you were steering clear of the opposite sex, he was fucking his way through Hollywood. It made you think back to what he’d said the night at your house that he’d thought of you all these years and been in love with you. Looking at his little black book before you made you want to shout bullshit. You also tried not to be too critical on yourself for being so different from them or let your insecurities flare-up. You wondered why you and if you were some phase he had to work through.

It took you almost two hours to realize the postal envelope across the kitchen. When you took it up you saw your name on it but no sender information. When you looked inside the envelope you froze for a few moments before you emptied out its contents onto the counter. Before you were items you hadn’t seen in years, items you’d almost forgotten about. Items you’d ran out of his house without.

You slowly examined the items beginning with your golden anklet. You’d searched for it for weeks until you accepted you’d lost it somewhere in Vegas or LA. It was one of your favorite pieces of jewelry and you missed it. You then moved on to the lace bra and panties you were wearing the night you were at Chris’. You hesitated touching them, afraid somehow you’d be bombarded with memories. Finally, you took up the bra and smelled it, it still smelled like your perfume, a perfume you still wore every once in a while.

“My god.”

Your eyes landed on the golden ring on the counter. The last time you’d touched it was to slide it onto his finger. Suddenly you felt as if you’d run a marathon from your racing heart to your sweaty palms. You took up his wedding band and slowly examined it.

“He’d held on to all of this, this whole time.”

Your shock was evident. You couldn’t believe it and didn’t know why he still had any of this especially your underwear. You must have stood there staring at his ring for an hour or so. Everything from the last few months raced through your head, every conversation, every smile, touch, every quiet night together and every genuine moment. You began to wonder if he’d been truthful the whole time. Wondered if you had it in you to take that leap that was required.

Walking over to your bag, you pulled your phone free and found his contact.

MSG: 9-1-1. Cathy’s corner where we had tacos.

You shoved the items into a Ziploc bag, grabbed your bag and hurried out the door in your car without a thought to your attire. The drive was relatively quick because of the hour. The streets were mostly abandoned and the further you drove into Mulholland Drive the darker they got. When you pulled up to the spot where you sat with him a few weeks ago you stared out over the city lights. It was still a beautiful view.

After a minute you worried that it was too little too late, worried that this was too far to come back from. You’d pushed too far.

After a few more minutes, you saw bright headlights pull up the drive, then the car screeched to a halt beside yours at an angle that blocked your bumper. You watched as Chris jumped out his car wearing a men’s tank and dark sweatpants.

“What’s the matter? Is it Ella? Is she okay? Are you hurt?” His words rushed out one after the other as he approached you. Once he was before you his eyes scanned your body. You then held up the items in front of his face.

“Why did you hold on to these?”

Chris’ expression changed from worry to confusion, then annoyance. “Vixen, are you kidding me? You text me 911. I'm running red lights, switching lanes, honking like a mad man thinking something was seriously wrong with you or Ella. You can't text 911 if it's not 911!”

He sounded exasperated as he rubbed his forehead. Ignoring his rant you asked again.

“Why did you hold on to these? You could have thrown them out.”

“I should have,” Chris dryly responded with little emotion on his face.

“Yeah. So?” Chris didn’t speak for a few seconds. He then rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head.

“I couldn't. I--I--,” he stuttered before he let out a loud groan while he ruffled his unkempt hair. With a grunt, he walked away from you before turning back to you once there was space between you.

“What are we doing here? What do you want?”

“Tell me why you couldn't,” you countered.

“No. You tell me why I'm here. I've said everything I need to say. What do you want?”

“Everything. It's my one fatal flaw. I want it all. I want the incredibly successful, fulfilling career that everyone envies, and I want the perfect, loving, sexy, guy who is head over heels in love with me and will give me everything I want. I want him to love me completely. I want him to never leave and have me be his only dream. I want my amazing little girl who is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I want to keep her happy and help her grow to be the best version of herself. I want happiness, peace, and joy. I want everything!”

Chris scoffed and shook his head looking at you as if this was no surprise. “No surprise there. What does that have to do with me?”

“My career is getting there. I am so close to getting what I want, so close to fulfilling my dreams there. My little girl is amazing, she was born amazing and she is happy and growing; or she was happy until she didn't get to see her daddy as much as she had been lately. Ironically, a daddy she'd lived without for years and now can't seem to forget him after only a few short months. She loves you so much and it makes my heart so full and warm. I want her to be happy again and the only way that can happen is if I find a way to be strong enough, a way to be brave to stand here and tell you that I've never felt nothing for you.”

Your heart was racing a mile a minute and the fear you felt was real, but you also knew you couldn’t just stop there. Chris didn’t move, and his face gave nothing away. He was unreadable, you hated it. Guess it was your turn to suffer with it now.

“Since we met even though I heavily drank and got drunker and drunker I felt things for you I'd never felt before. I was able to talk to you and open up to you in a way I only do with Nex. It was insane what we did getting married like that, but I know without a doubt I wanted it. That night at your house you hurt me but only because I thought we were on the same page I thought you felt what I did, and it turned out you didn't. Boston--of course it meant something,” you confessed. That was when Chris’ face glitched with emotion.

“What?”

It was do or die time, you thought.

“I haven't been with anyone since you. No dates, no kissing, well except Zack but that meant nothing. There has been no one. I haven't let there be anyone and I tricked myself into believing it was because I didn't have the time or the energy but I didn't want to invest again or get my hopes up only to get hurt and the truth was I never got over you. I never fell out of love with you.”

The way he stared at you was only making your heart pound harder and the butterflies flit through your stomach more. He still stood there not moving, not encouraging or discouraging your newfound candidness. Turning away you walked to your car and dug into your purse for the desired item then walked back to him. You held up the papers so he could see.

“Thought you were going to file those. I signed them over a week ago.”

“You did,” you answered before you ripped them once, then twice. You attempted a third, but it was tough. A small smile spread across his face before he walked closer to you. Still, he didn’t touch you.

“Your mother said something to me in Boston, she said, "fate only brings us what is meant and letting something go and it coming back should not be let go again especially if it's what you want."

He nodded his head as if he agreed. “Sounds like my mom.”

“Smart woman. Fate brought you to me in Vegas, you let me go, fate said no and gave me Ella, then fate brought me to you, and I've tried to let go. I can't. I have to stop running.” Saying those words felt surreal. All the self-help books said acceptance was the first step then admittance, you just did both in the same breath.

“Are you saying we're meant to be?” The curiosity and amusement on his face weren’t missed. You were relieved, you thought he’d be angry to see you after what you’d said.

“Do you think we are?”

Chris gazed deeply into your eyes and closed the remaining space between you, but still, he didn’t touch you. You wanted him to, but you’d wait.

“You're the only one meant for me. I love you Vixen, I always have, I always will.” Chris softly trailed the back of his hand across your cheek caressing it. A smile spread over your face as joy filled you. Chris looked scared, worried even.

“I love you too, Chris. I always have and apparently no matter what idiotic plan you concoct, I always will.”

The two of you smiled the goofiest smiles ever then pressed your lips together in a sweet kiss. A kiss that increased in passion as the seconds ticked by. Before either of you got carried away, Chris pulled back and stared at you with a serious look on his face.

“So no divorce?”

“Nope. I’m so sorry. I ruined everything and hurt you. I hate that I hurt you, I hate that I said those things to you. My god Chris, I’m so sorry.”

Chris didn’t speak, instead, he took the ripped papers that you still held and ripped them three more times before he flung them in the air. At that moment, the breeze picked up and blew them away scattering them around. The two of you stood there watching them drift in the night sky with sentimental smiles on your faces.

“Matter of fact,” Chris began. When you looked to him you were in time to see him drop down onto one knee. That was all it took for the tears to well in your eyes. Chris held onto your hands as he stared at you. You could see everything in his eyes and for the first time, you didn’t doubt any of what you saw.

“Vixen Star Giovanni-Evans, the last time I did this I was drunk off my ass but even drunk me knew without a doubt that you were something to hold on to. The last three years have not been easy, and they have been quite unconventional. We've both grown so much and accomplished so much. I can say that I am a better man because of meeting you three years ago. I am a better man today. A man that is not only ready but begging for a second chance; a chance to love you properly; a chance to build a life with you, grow even more with you; a chance to be the man that loves you unconditionally; a chance to be the husband I've always envisioned myself, the father I've wanted to be. Will you spend the rest of your life with me, will you allow me to stand by your side and take care of you and show you every single day just what you mean to me? Will you be the mother of my six kids? Will you marry me—again--but for the last time.”

You laugh throwing your head back and rejoicing in the feel of happiness, a happiness that you hadn’t felt in so long. You pulled him up to stand before you then pressed your forehead on his chest. You allowed your tears to fall freely unabashedly.

“Are you sure?”

Chris swiped the pad of his thumbs across your cheeks drying the tears as they fell. “I’ve never been surer about anything in my life as I am sure that I want to be married to you until the day I die.”

“Goddamn!”

“Yes, but we may have to revisit six kids.”

Chris smiled widely and shook his head dismissing the notion.

“Nope. Six. One down, five to go.”

Your laugh was loud, and you didn’t care. You kissed him again and again and again hoping that this was the beginning of making up for the time you’d been apart and the beginning of building a beautiful life together.

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#love maybe fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #Chris Evans X black reader #chris evans smut #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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myheartrevealedocs · 4 years

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Untouchable - Ch 7: The Fisher King: Part 2 (S2E1)

Summary: A Spencer Reid x OC fanfic that retells select episodes, starting in season 1, from the point of view of Lydia Ambers, a forensic scientist.

Warnings: mentions of death, swearing, death threats, graphic injuries

Ch 6 | Ch 8

~ ~ ~

When Lydia got back to the conference room, Spencer was the only one there. He stood directly in front of the whiteboard, murmuring to himself. He’d written ‘Possible Book Titles’ across the top, but so far had nothing listed.

“The rest of the team leave you to figure this out on your own?” she asked.

He startled slightly, not having heard her walk in. “Um, JJ and Morgan are going to interview Rebecca Bryant’s parents… and Hotch and Gideon are interviewing the guy who brought the numbers to Haley.”

“Someone found him?”

“He turned himself in,” Spencer explained. “So, now it’s just me and the evidence boards.”

“Now it’s us and the evidence boards,” she corrected. She sat down and picked up the medication bottle from the table. “Sorry I stormed out.”

“Sorry you were so stressed,” he mumbled. “We didn’t mean to push you.”

“You didn’t. It was important for you to know. I’m just… so done with this, you know?” She stopped herself. “Sorry, of course you do. You were on vacation when you got these weird messages. I was just home doing my schoolwork.”

“Lydia, stop apologizing,” he argued. “This is very stressful, we’ve all been here a long time, and you got a package delivered to your door. I can easily understand why that’d freak you out.”

She shrugged. “I just feel like I should be able to piece together these clues the unsub’s giving us and I can’t.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” he agreed, indicating to his empty list.

She looked over the label on the bottle in her hands. There was a patient name, a doctor’s name, drug, and an RX number. Prescription bottles always had more than that. They had instructions, pharmacies, manufacturers, fill dates, expiration dates.

“This number must mean something,” she wondered out loud. “He didn’t put any unnecessary information on it, but there’s a long RX number.”

“Read the number out loud,” Spencer told her.

He wrote it across the board as she went. “3-1-5-1-2-1-2-5-3-2-0-1-5-1-8”

“Okay,” he stepped back. “We can start with the basics. A equals 1, Z equals 26.” He got to work, writing the corresponding letter underneath the number.

C-A-E-A-B-A-B-E-C-B-

He stopped at the zero. “That’s definitely not a word. But some of the letters have double digits, so… let’s see if we combine everything we can combine…’C’ stays the same. The 1 and 5 could be fifteen, which is ‘O’...” He began again.

C-O-L-L-E-C-T-O-R

“Collector?” He stepped away. “That mean anything to you?”

Lydia shook her head.

“Alright. Collector. Collecting things. He’s collecting things.” He snapped his fingers so sharply Lydia almost jumped. “Collector! Baseball cards, music boxes, butterflies, skeleton keys. These are all things people collect!”

“That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

He shrugged. It was basically impossible at this point to rule anything out.

“Medieval,” she rambled. “Collectable things. Numerical codes. What else have we got?”

“We’ve got this note from the music box?” he offered. “I think I’ve heard it somewhere, but I can’t place it… And I think the book was published in 1963.”

“Why’s that?”

“That’s the year on the baseball card, but it’s not the year Gideon went to all those games. If the unsub knows Gideon likes Nellie Fox because he went to almost all the White Sox games in 1959, why give him a ‘63 card?”

“Okay,” Lydia agreed. “So, the type of butterfly JJ got, that probably means something too, because she collected butterflies, not pale clouded yellow butterflies.

He nodded. “Let’s get Garcia to look up some of these things and see if we find anything.”

She followed him out as he dashed towards Garcia’s office. He was very stiff and awkward when he was in a rush, she noticed, but he refused to run through the office. She was glad for it at the moment, seeing as with her foot, she probably couldn’t keep up with him, but it was almost comical, the way his feet skipped underneath him with repressed anticipation.

Garcia looked up when they walked in, then turned back to her computers. “This guy is infuriatingly good. He routed his IP through major corporations, crisscrossed it through countries, bounced it off satellites-”

“I thought you already tracked the hacker,” Spencer said, pausing behind her and glancing over her shoulder.

“No, I only found what he wanted me to find,” she huffed. “Apartment where Giles was dead. Reid, a hacker capable of getting into my systems is going to have amazingly sophisticated equipment. Did Giles’s apartment have that?”

“He didn’t have a couch,” he responded.

“Exactly. Giles was a smokescreen I should have seen through. But now I have this glorious program I wrote, tracking the hacker through his other identity: Sir Kneighf.”

“Sir Kneighf?” he cried.

Lydia’s eyes widened. “The doctor on the prescription bottle!”

“The what?” Garcia flipped her chair around and Reid leaned over to see the name on her screen

“K-N-E-I-G-H-F. That’s an odd spelling.”

She waved him away. “Do you need something?”

“Yeah, is there a database, which lists all the books published in a given year?”

“Individual publishers have lists, but I don’t think there’s anything like a master one. Plus it would depend upon the year, because the further back you go, the less likely there’ll be any database at all.”

“1963.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, ok, that would be an example of extremely less likely.”

He hummed in contemplation. “Could you do me a favor? Type something into a search engine for me?” She pulled herself back up to the keyboard. “‘Never would it be night, but always clear day to any man’s sight’.”

“Okay, that’s from a poem, ‘The Parliament of-’”

“Fowls!” He jumped in recognition. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Chaucer! My-” He hesitated. “My mom used to read me that. It’s widely considered as the first Valentine’s poem.”

Garcia chuckled. “Your mom read you Valentine’s poems? Hello, therapy.”

Lydia smacked her over the shoulder.

“Chaucer. Chaucer. ‘Parliament of Fowls’.” He began mumbling to himself again, trying to fit pieces together. “It has to be at least 283 pages long. Something published in 1963… A butterfly indigenous to Great Britain. Why? Something born. Something from Great Britain… Medieval. Chaucer. Chaucer was Middle English. Middle English spelling of the word Fowls… F-O-W-L-E-S…”

Lydia thought he was losing it, but somehow, this rambling was productive, because he blinked and ran back over to Garcia’s side.

“There- There was a contemporary british author-- Fowles. John Fowles. Will you type it into a search engine?”

“Uh… He wrote The Magus, he wrote The French Lieutenant’s Woman-”

“Anything in 1963 published in Great Britain?”

She narrowed her search and her computer started beeping. “Yeah. The Collector.”

Lydia wanted to scream. Finally, they were on the right path. “Are you serious? The code on the bottle was the book title.”

Garcia clicked on the book and the cover photo showed up, which ruled out any chances of the book being a coincidence. Three objects were displayed underneath the title of the book: a butterfly, a skeleton key, and a blonde lock of hair.

“I’m gonna start calling libraries. We need a copy of that book immediately,” Lydia said, leaving abruptly.

~ ~ ~

“Hello, my name is Lydia Ambers, I work for the FBI. We’re in desperate need of a very specific book to help us on a recent case. We’re looking for a copy of The Collector by John Fowles, but it has to be a copy that was published by Jonathon Cape. Would you have any of those?”

Lydia followed Reid and Garcia to one of the interrogation rooms, to talk to Hotch and Gideon about their findings, but she was thoroughly distracted by her call and ended up stepping on their heels a few times accidentally.

“According to our database, we should have two copies, but it’s going to take me a while to search for them. Can I call you back once I’ve found a copy?”

“Yes, thank you.” She hung up and promptly tripped, falling between Reid and Garcia’s shoulders. She would have run directly into Gideon if Reid hadn’t grabbed her by the arm and held her up steady. “Sorry!”

She shuffled back behind her two friends and let them talk to Hotch and Gideon.

“We know what the book is,” Spencer explained. “The Collector by John Fowles.”

“You sure?” Gideon demanded. They were both clearly on edge. Hotch had his arms crossed which didn’t look comfortable in his suit and Gideon was punchy. She didn’t fail to notice the way he and Garcia avoided each other's gazes, Garcia more than him. He was still pissed at her and she was probably thoroughly embarrassed. And hopefully, a little pissed too, because Lydia believed he’d been way too harsh on her.

“Not absolutely. Not until we see if the code works, but Lydia’s called four separate libraries to search for the 1963 edition published in Great Britain.”

“Well done,” Hotch complimented the group, tiredly.

“Agent Gideon,” a woman called, approaching the group of them, “there’s a call for you on line two. Says it’s extremely urgent.”

“Is there a name?” he asked.

“Sort of. He calls himself the Fisher King.”

Lydia groaned before she could stop herself. Everyone raised an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry. The Fisher King is the one who guards the Grail. You know, the one that ‘Sir Percival’, over there is supposed to find.” She pointed at Reid, who was grabbing the notepad the woman had in her hands.

“This could be the unsub, guys,” he confirmed. “‘Sir Kneighf’ is an anagram for Fisher King.”

“The Fisher King is at the end of all Grail quests,” Gideon agreed.

They rushed to the bullpen, all crowding around a nearby phone.

“Line two trapped and traced,” Hotch demanded of one of the nearby agents and Gideon put it on speaker.

“Gideon.”

“What I had to do was not my fault,” the unsub replied, his harsh voice unmistakable.

“Excuse me?”

“It was distasteful and barbaric.”

“Who is this?”

“No one else had to be hurt.”

“Call yourself ‘The Fisher King’?” He was trying to throw the unsub off his rhythm. Gideon had been training her to speak to hostile people and profile what responses to give them, so she followed along his game.

This guy had clearly planned what he wanted to say and expected them to shut up and listen. If Gideon made him interrupt the strict script in his mind, he might slip up and give information he didn’t want to or forget his point.

“I told you there were rules.”

“I’m actually more interested in exactly how you got all those burns.” Different tactic. Make the unsub think we’re closer to catching him than he thinks.

“Remember this next time you decide to step outside my instructions,” he warned. “Agent Greenaway did not have to die like that.”

The phone buzzed as he hung up the call.

~ ~ ~

After many attempts at calling Elle, Hotch got ahold of Agent Anderson, who was in charge of taking her home. Anderson explained that Elle had been shot and the ambulance was on its way to a nearby hospital. And then, he and Gideon were off, leaving Lydia, Spencer, and Garcia to work on piecing together this mystery.

“Mrs. Valez, are you there?” Reid asked, putting the librarian who’d just called them back on speaker phone.

“Yes, Dr. Reid. I am. I have a first edition of The Collector, published in Great Britain in 1963.”

“Wonderful.” As they spoke Garcia cleared off room on the whiteboard to copy down the code. “Mrs. Valez, I’m going to read you a set of three numbers. The first is going to be a page number, the second a line number on that page, and the third, a word number in that line. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“All right, the first is page 222.”

“Page 222, got it.”

“Line 23.”

“Line 23. Got it.”

“What is the 16th work on that line, Ms. Valez?”

“The.”

“The,” he repeated. “Great.”

Garcia wrote it up on the board and Lydia suddenly very much regretted not going along with Gideon and Hotch. But just in time to save the day, her phone started going off with a call from the unit chief.

She dismissed herself quickly and stepped outside to answer.

“How’s Elle?” she asked, figuring greetings could be dismissed for the time being.

“She’s in surgery. Ambers, I need you to go to her house and look for any evidence you can find. And if you can, I need you to tell me what exactly happened when she got home. Anderson will meet you there.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get back to you when I have something.”

She quietly signalled to Reid that she was leaving before grabbing her FBI windbreaker and latex gloves and running off to the elevator. She hadn’t taken a company SUV since her first case (after which she learned she wasn’t supposed to be driving them on her own because she wasn’t supposed to be unsupervised while working), but she figured that, if caught, she would be forgiven, given the circumstances.

The street was littered with cop cars by the time she got there and it took a minute for them to recognize the car and jacket she was wearing and let her through. Once she had parked, she ran across the front lawn and inside, looking for Anderson. Right now, the only reason she hadn’t been thrown off the scene was her jacket and until Anderson arrived with his badge and the orders to clear the place, she was at the local PD’s mercy.

“Excuse me, miss,” a man called to her as she walked into the living room. She shut her eyes tightly. Damn it.

“Hi. My name’s Lydia-”

“Ambers,” Anderson greeted her, stepping past the cops to speak to her. “CSU’s on the way, but Hotch wanted you to survey the scene before they processed it.” He turned back to the officer she was just speaking to. “Hello again, Detective Markes. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask your team to leave, as you’re currently on a crime scene under federal jurisdiction.”

As he went on to argue with the detective, Lydia flipped around to make her initial determinations. Elle had lost a lot of blood. Lydia could assume she’d been shot in the abdomen, because it was the only area of the body where she could survive long enough to get to the hospital and into surgery while she was losing blood at that rate. Elle had a comforted seat built into an indent in the wall where the blood trail started.

The coffee table was awkwardly placed in the center of the room, so the paramedics probably moved it to get to her. And from the marks on the carpet, it looks like they had to drag her body onto its back in order to perform CPR. Then, there was the looming note on her wall in blood: RULES.

“Can I do anything to help?” Anderson asked. When Lydia looked up at him, it was clear to her that he’d been crying. His eyes were rimmed with red and his voice was shaky.

“Did the police tell you what happened?”

He nodded, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “There is evidence of forced entry on the back door. The unsub probably broke in and waited for her to get home before he shot her. She dialed 911 herself before she passed out. And her badge and gun are nowhere to be found.”

“She dialed 911 before she passed out?!” Lydia exclaimed. “Unless the unsub let her… but no, he thought she was dead. He was in the room with her and wrote in her-” Lydia took in a deep breath and started to put her gloves on. “Try something with me, Anderson.”

~ ~ ~

“What did you find?”

“CSU lifted a partial print from the unsub’s message,” Lydia told Hotch, driving back to Quantico.

“What message?”

“Rules,” she responded. “This is about the press conference.”

He sighed. “Did they get anything from the print?”

“They aren’t sure if it will be enough, but they’re running it through their systems now.”

“Good. And what did you find?”

Lydia’s breath hitched. “Me?”

“I asked you if you could figure out what happened. How did the unsub get the upper hand and shoot Elle?”

Lydia glanced at her phone, which was on speaker beside her, as if Hotch would be there looking sternly back.

“Here’s my theory,” she began. “We know he broke in through the back door and waited in the house. If he was in the dining room, he would have been able to hear her set her stuff down and lie on the couch. Now with her eyes closed, he’s able to walk into the room and aim a gun at her before she can react. At some point, Elle makes a move off the couch and he shoots her. The blood pattern indicates she was falling when she got hit. That makes me think her gun was on the table across from her. But anyway, she’s shot and is lying on her side, between the seat and the table. Elle has got to have an insanely high pain tolerance, because she was still conscious when he wrote on the walls in her blood. But somehow, she had him convinced she had died when he left. Then, she calls 911 and passes out.”

“Good work, Lydia. When all this is over, we need to talk.”

Her phone beeped to indicate he had hung up and it took everything in her not to pull over and call him back immediately.

A talk? What the hell did that mean?

~ ~ ~

When Lydia finally made her way back to the bullpen, she was exhausted. So, it was a bit of a relief to see Spencer there at his desk, simply toying with a pencil between his fingers.

“Did you go to Elle’s house?” he asked, softly, as she took off her jacket and placed it on her desk.

“Yeah… It’s a crime scene.”

He nodded, understanding what she meant. It was bloody.

“How did the book code go? Did it work?” she inquired.

“‘The path to the end began at his start to find her first calm her long broken heart’,” he recited. “‘She sits in a window with secrets from her knight. Is it adventure that keeps him out of her sight?’”

“Any clue what it means?”

Reid opened his mouth to explain, but Garcia approached and started talking to him. “She’s okay,” she said, sitting on the edge of his desk. “Your mom. Agents picked her up.”

“Your mom?” Lydia startled. “What happened?”

The panic in Garcia’s eyes was evident. “Lydia! Sorry, I didn’t even realize you were back yet.” Her eyes darted between the two of them. “I’ll… I’m gonna go now.”

“No, no, no!” she assured her. “It’s fine. If this is private, I can leave.”

“It’s not private.” Spencer looked slightly amused by the anxiety both girls felt, but it didn’t last long. “It’s… pertinent to the case.”

“Is everything okay?” Lydia asked him, standing up next to Garcia at his desk, so that the conversation didn’t drift around the room.

“She’s flying here right now,” Garcia explained, and Reid nodded, looking down at an evidence bag.

It was the poem they’d found in the music box. The valentine’s one that he’d said his mom read him.

“I forgot she used to always read me this poem.” He sighed. “It’s funny, huh?”

“Funny?” Garcia asked.

“I should have realized this sooner,” he admitted. “I mean, nobody knows things like the fact that JJ collects butterflies except for me. People tell me their secrets all the time. I think it’s ‘cause they know I don’t have anyone to betray them to… except my mother. I- I tell her pretty much everything.”

“I don’t think anyone would mind,” she grinned.

“Do you know that I write her a letter everyday?” he continued.

Garcia’s eyes watered slightly, but her smile didn’t let up. “That’s nice.”

“It depends on why I write her.” His eyebrow furrowed. His demeanor had changed considerably and Lydia started to piece together what she had missed.

This unsub had gotten all this info on them from his mom. Maybe he’d been stealing her letters or just talking to her, but he knew her and that’s why Reid was bringing her to Quantico.

“What do you mean?” Garcia asked.

“I write her letters so I won’t feel so guilty about not visiting her.”

The girls exchanged a look. Reid had just been in Las Vegas. He said he was going home. So, why was he claiming he didn’t visit her?

“Did you know that schizophrenia is genetically passed?” he asked, randomly.

At least, she thought it was random. Until Garcia gasped under her breath. She excused herself quickly, leaving Lydia with the fidgeting doctor.

“Spencer, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she spoke up. She kept her voice low and her town concerned, undemanding.

He was clearly on edge. He wouldn’t look up at her, eyes focused on the poem in his hands. “‘The path to the end begins at his start’... I’m the ‘him’. And my start is my mom. So, she’s the key to lead us to the Grail. ‘She sits in a window with secrets from her knight’. The doctors tell me my mother loves to sit by the window and read my letters.” He dropped the bag suddenly and clasped his hands together. “Lydia, my mom is a paranoid schizophrenic who lives in a mental hospital.”

His knuckles started turning white and the muscles in his arms shifted under pressure. He was getting tense. Lydia knew exactly what he was doing. Normally, when she felt her anger manifest itself physically, she would excuse herself to blow off steam, but something told her Reid wasn’t about to find an empty hallway and start punching the walls.

But even with that knowledge, she never would have consciously done what she did to calm him. Her impulses took over and one of her hands reached out and settled itself on top of his fists. She bent down slightly, not forcing herself into his line of sight, but making it easier for him to turn to her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That must be hard on you… does the rest of the team know?”

He shook his head, turning one of his palms over to hold onto her fingers. Lydia’s heart sped up, but she swallowed down her feelings. He was looking for comfort, not a relationship. Besides, they weren’t even holding hands, really. He was just grazing his thumbs over her knuckles.

“Lydia,” he began, finally meeting her gaze. “Earlier you left because Hotch brought up your mom…”

Here it comes. She braced herself for the inevitable question.

“...and when you came back, you had bruised knuckles.”

She almost choked on her own saliva. He wasn’t going to ask about her mom? And how had he even noticed that?

Awkwardly, she slipped her fingers out of his grasp. “I wasn’t hitting anything alive, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she informed him, suddenly closing off again. “I just had to let off some steam.”

“Lydia, I wasn’t insinuating anything-”

“It’s fine, Spencer,” she replied, far too quickly. “If you need any help with anything before your mom gets here, let me know. And if I get any updates from Hotch or Gideon, I’ll tell you.”

He spun his chair around in an attempt to stop her, but she was already leaving, trying to look dignified as she walked into the conference room. She didn’t want to make him feel guilty when he was already dreading his mom’s arrival, but she couldn’t have that conversation when there was work to do.

It wasn’t until she was staring at the evidence boards that she realized, there really wasn’t any work to do.

What was she running from?

~ ~ ~

After hours of pacing and repeating the clues the unsub had given them outloud, Lydia had ended up back at her desk, absolutely drained. She pushed everything aside and lay her head down. She’d just been… off today.

She felt so guilty about abandoning Spencer. He needed more help than she did. His mother was involved in a murder case and probably wasn’t stable enough to look out for herself. And Lydia was just wallowing in her past.

She had no right to do that to him.

So, what was it? As far as she knew, Spencer didn’t even know her mom was dead. He had no idea what the mention of her mother could do to her. He wasn’t pressuring her to tell him about it. And even more so, she’d never struggled to tell anyone her mother was dead before. Her first day in Quantico, she told Gideon and Garcia.

Lydia rarely talked about the cause of her mom’s death. If that’s what the team needed to know, then she could forgive herself for being on edge, but they didn’t. No one had asked her to say out loud how her mother had died. And if they did need to know, Hotch, Gideon, or Garcia could probably tell them. Her mother’s death was definitely in Garcia’s files.

What is it? She asked herself. What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just-?

“Lydia!” Garcia cried. Her head shot up to watch the blonde woman running by, making a beeline for the conference room.

She ran after her, just catching up as she opened the door and grabbed the attention of Spencer and an older woman with a pixie cut.

“Reid, I got to the end of the IP string,” Garcia started, barely even noticing the other presence in the room. “Sir Kneighf? The Fisher King? His name is Randal Garner. He’s Rebecca Bryant’s biological father.”

~ ~ ~

Once the air in the room had settled, Spencer introduced the other woman as his mother, Diana Reid, before quickly distracting them with work. Lydia sensed that he didn’t want his mother to be a part of the conversation.

Lydia stepped aside to call Hotch, listening to their conversation as she explained to him what they’d found.

“Our file says that Rebecca’s father’s name is Joseph Bryant,” Spencer argued. “Who’s Randal Garner?”

“Rebecca’s mother and brothers died in a fire when she was four and her father was so badly burned that he couldn’t take care of her, so he gave up parental rights and she was adopted by the Bryants,” Garcia informed them.

“Okay,” Hotch responded over the phone, pulling her back to the conversation she was having. “I’ll tell Gideon and be there soon. Find out everything you can on this guy.”

“Doing that as we speak,” she replied, putting her phone back into her pocket.

“I can’t believe she’s real,” Diana mumbled.

The three of them trained their eyes on her.

“What do you mean?” Garcia asked.

“Whenever he talked about Rebecca, he never said she was his daughter.” She said all this directly to her son, her stance nervous, almost defensive. “He said all his children died in the fire. He spoke of a Rebecca, more in the abstract. I really thought she was a metaphor and not an actual human being. An ideal.”

“A grail,” Reid said, confirming her thoughts. This man honestly didn’t see her as his daughter anymore. His daughter had died. And this girl was a prize to be won. “He thinks he’s the Fisher King.”

“Who does?” Morgan asked, entering with JJ.

“Randal Garner, our unsub,” Spencer responded.

“He believes you’re all modern-day knights of the round table,” Diana explained, gesturing around the room.

Derek raised a hand and they could see his question about who this woman was coming a mile away.

“Uh, Derek Morgan, this is my mother, Diana Reid.” Spencer ran around the table to step between his colleague and his mom.

“This is your mother?” He pointed at the woman almost accusingly, but seeing Spencer’s tight smile, pulled back and said, “Ma’am it’s a… it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Finally, the last of their group stormed in, Hotch’s footsteps audible from across the bullpen. “So, where are we on finding this son of a bitch?” he demanded.

“Gideon?” Lydia inquired.

“Hospital.”

Everyone sat down around the table in time with one another.

“I rechecked all the clues,” Spencer began. “There’s nothing that points to an address.”

“The adoption records for Rebecca listed an address of the fire, so I made a call to Nevada, and it’s vacant. No one ever rebuilt,” JJ continued.

“Nevada?” Hotch scoffed. “So we don’t even know what state he’s in?”

“I’ll search the tax records,” Garcia offered. “See if he owns any property.”

“Excuse me,” Diana said, catching the attention of the team. She was leaning forward in her seat in the corner of the room.

“Mom, do you want to wait out-” Spencer started, trying to usher her out of the room, but She was already making a move towards Hotch.

“Just before the agents got me from the hospital,” she fumbled for something in her purse, “a man delivered this to me. It’s a photo of a house with an address on the back.”

She held it up for them to see the scrawl on the back of the card: 1024 Winston Dr., Shiloh, VA. 22485.

“Shiloh, Virginia?” Morgan muttered. “That’s only ten miles from here.”

She flipped over the photo. The house looked more like a castle, with multiple stories and barred windows. It was made with gray bricks and black roof tiles with a circular extension that looked like a tower.

The team filed out quickly, with the exception of Spencer, who was telling his mom to stay put until he got back.

Garcia ran back to her office and Lydia sat at her desk, still unable to go on raids with them.

Almost over, she told herself. This whole thing is almost over.

~ ~ ~

“We’re sending Rebecca to the hospital now and then we’ll be back,” Hotch informed her. “Any news from Gideon?”

“Elle just got out of surgery. Doctors say she’s gonna be fine.” It was already the next morning and Lydia couldn’t wait to go back to her apartment and sleep for the rest of the day. “Randal Garner?”

“Dead,” he responded and Lydia didn’t bother to ask how or why. “Why don’t you start clearing off those evidence boards?”

“Yes, sir.” She put her phone down and walked up to the round table room.

When she got inside, she startled to see someone else there. Spencer’s mom sat on the sofa underneath the window and was writing something in one of the journals she brought with her. She hadn’t seemed to notice Lydia walk in.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Reid,” Lydia started, politely, walking over to the evidence boards. “I forgot you were still here.”

After a second of silence, Lydia got to work, making piles of evidence, pictures, and all the pins they had used. She didn’t take the woman’s silence personally, knowing that schizophrenia could cause dissociation. She figured she’d leave her to her journaling for now.

As she was finishing up, however, the woman looked up at her, an eyebrow raised. “Is it time for lunch yet?” she inquired.

“What?” Lydia asked softly.

“I’m lecturing everyone on Tristan and Iseult,” she explained, scanning her journal suddenly like an analysis paper. “They’re all gathering in my room after lunch.”

Lydia was intrigued. Clearly, Diana was not in touch with reality and Lydia wasn’t sure how best to deal with it, but her curiosity won over her common sense.

She wanted to know who Tristan and Iseult were.

“I’m here to attend the lecture, ma’am.” She smiled and sat down on the floor, like a kindergartener.

“Let’s get started, then.” She went on to talk about the basis of the myth: Tristan was sent to bring Iseult back to his uncle, King Mark of Cornwell, with whom she was to marry. On their journey however, they consumed a love potion (whether or not they were aware had varied throughout history) and fell for one another. They were forced to have an affair behind Mark’s back, despite them both holding a lot of respect for the king, because the effects of the potion were too strong for them to ignore. When the king caught them, he sentenced them both to death, but Tristan escaped and saved Iseult and they ran off together. When King Mark finally found them again, Tristan agreed to give Iseult back to the king and flee Cornwell so long as neither of them would be harmed. And eventually, he found another young woman named Iseult and married her instead.

Diana was just beginning to explain how this compared the Arthurian legend and the love triangle between King Arthur, Sir Lancelot, and Guinevere, when Spencer walked in.

“Mom, we found her. Rebecca’s safe.” The two women turned their heads to the newcomer and Spencer flushed, seeing Lydia sitting quietly on the floor across from his mother. “Lydia! I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Young man, we are in the middle of a lecture,” she reprimanded. “May I ask why you’ve so rudely interrupted us?”

Lydia covered her mouth to suppress a laugh and Spencer looked shocked by his mother’s scolding. “What?”

“I am giving a lecture on Tristan and Iseult,” she repeated, impatiently. “Are you here to attend or do you want to just keep standing there and gawking?”

He seemed to understand his mother’s headspace, but his confusion returned when he remembered Lydia. She gestured for him to sit with her, smugly, and turned back to Diana. “You can continue Mrs. Reid, he was just late.”

“Has he read any of the material?” she asked, suspiciously.

Lydia raised an eyebrow at Spencer, teasing him despite the fact that she definitely had not read whatever it was that Diana would have previously assigned.

His face was gentle, almost unsure, and slowly he sat down besides Lydia. “I’ve had them read to me.”

Lydia knew he was talking about his mother. He’d grown up listening to her read valentine’s poems and old mythology. It was honestly really touching and she wondered if she should leave them to have a moment together but couldn’t bring herself to get up.

“Wonderful,” Diana sighed. “That’s the best way, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am. By far.”

They sat there for a few more minutes, listening to her thoughts and analysis of different versions of the story. Lydia would glance over at him at times, checking to see if he was still smiling, which he always was. Sometimes he’d catch her in the act and they’d share a look of amusement before turning their focus back to their temporary teacher.

Unfortunately, it had to come to a sudden end when Hotch walked in.

“Ambers.” His tone was serious. “I was worried you’d left. I need to speak with you.”

Lydia could see Diana’s frustration at yet another interruption, so she quickly stood up.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Mrs. Reid,” she apologized, shuffling out behind her boss.

He nodded for her to follow him to his office. Was this about what he said earlier? They needed to have a talk?

She wondered if it was possibly the fact she took out an SUV again despite being informed not to after the last time. Or it could be about her harsh comments that morning towards Gideon and around Haley. Or even worse, about her mom and how she stormed away.

She sat across from him, waiting for his exasperated voice to come through, but it didn’t.

“Lydia, I think we need to have a discussion about your future,” he started, unexpectedly. “I created an internship into the team for you because we’ve never had the need for a forensics expert before, but for these past several months, you’ve been an incredible help. You’re knowledgeable in crime scene analysis, lab work, and, as you proved today, profiling. So, I’ve brought you here to tell you that I’ve discussed with Chief Strauss the possibility of giving you a full-time job in the BAU and she has agreed to speak with you and myself about creating you a position as a government contractor. You can’t apply to be an agent until you’re 23, but I want to be able to lift the restrictions on you and have your help on the cases I see as necessary. If Strauss likes you, you’ll be allowed to make calls for yourself, carry a badge, take the gun qualifications tests, and work without agent supervision, which if she asks, you haven’t been doing already. Would you be interested in such a position?”

She blinked, completely floored by the offer. “Agent Hotchner, I… wait, ‘proved today’?”

It was not what she wanted to say in the moment, but it had thrown her off slightly.

“Today, you walked onto a crime scene and told me an hour later exactly what had happened. You could identify when and from where the unsub entered the room, how Elle was positioned when she got shot, and what happened between then and her call to 911. Yes, I asked you to go there as a scientist and to look for evidence, but when I asked what you thought had happened, you became a profiler and you’re clearly fit to join the team. Again, you becoming a profiler is something we can discuss but not act on for another year, so hopefully contracted work is okay with you.”

“Okay with me?” she laughed. “That sounds amazing. So, just like I’ve been doing in the past, I’ll only be called in when you want me on a case and not for any office work?”

He nodded. “This is dependent on Strauss’s approval, but yes, that’s what we discussed.”

Lydia grinned. “So, how does one get Strauss’s approval?”

~ ~ ~

Lydia didn’t get back to her apartment until around 6 AM and promptly slept for most of the day. She was startled awake by her ringtone in the early afternoon and prepared herself for Hotch to ask her to come back in, but it wasn’t him. Interestingly enough, it was Spencer whose name popped up on her screen.

“Hello?” she answered, sitting back against her headboard.

“Hey, Lydia. Sorry, I’m sure you’re still exhausted after everything. I would have waited a few days to call you, but if I don’t do this now, I’m not sure I ever will.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Is everything alright, Spencer? Did you make it to Las Vegas okay?”

By the time she’d finished talking with Hotch, Spencer had left with his mom and she’d heard that he was planning to fly with her back to the sanitarium, because she had a fear of planes. After everything, she expected him to stay with his mother for a few days, so she hadn’t thought she’d be hearing from him anytime soon.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be back in DC tomorrow. But I have something to admit to you. I didn’t realize this earlier, but I know why Randal Garner sent you what he did.”

Lydia’s breath hitched. “What do you mean? Have you… did Garcia tell you?”

How did he know? Maybe he’d just guessed with the whole scene she made about the bupropion. Garcia had told her that she wouldn’t spill any of her secrets. But would Hotch or Gideon tell him what happened to her mom?

“What? Garcia didn’t tell me anything. I think you should wait for me to explain, so that you don’t accidentally tell me something you don’t want me to know.” His tone was joking, but there was a wavering nervousness that she could hear over the line. “Lydia, when you worked that poisoning case… on the jet back the whole rest of the team was asleep and you had a conversation with Hotch. You said that seeing an orange prescription bottle made you angry because it reminded you of your mother… I overheard that.”

She waited a minute for him to go on. She thought for certain he was going to say he’d figured her whole past out. He was going to tell her that he’d profiled her fidgets and glances and found out every last detail of her mom’s death, but he didn’t. That was all.

“That’s okay, Spencer,” she reassured him. “It wasn’t… I’m not keeping secrets from the team, I just don’t really like to talk about it.”

She faintly heard him huff, frustratedly. “No, I mean, the unsub got all this information on us from my mom. From all the stuff I’d tell her about my team… I told her about you,” he admitted. “I told her about how I’d overheard that conversation and I’m so sorry that you had to go through all this because of me.”

Lydia’s fingers ghosted lightly over her face as she processed this and shut her eyes tightly. It didn’t bother her as much as she’d thought it would, in fact, she didn’t seem to mind at all. The only thing on her mind when he said that was her stupid crush and the fact that he’d been writing to his mom about her.

She shook it aside. He talked about the whole team. It wasn’t a big thing. But… the unsub had, in his fantasy, assigned them two characters who were in love…

“I really appreciate the thought Spencer, but this isn’t your fault. I never said anything to Hotch about the bupropion, so you couldn’t have known about that. The unsub probably just did some research on me or looked through my files. Even if he chose the bottle because of your letters, he had everything else to torment me. Please don’t put this on yourself or your mom.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t hate me?”

“I can change my mind if you’d prefer,” she laughed.

He joined her for a moment, but fell silent far too fast. Lydia suddenly racked her brain for whatever she’d done to cause him to freeze, but hadn’t come up with anything before he spoke up again.

“Hey, Lydia? When I get back to DC, do you, uh… want to get something to eat?”

Lydia’s heart stopped. She wasn’t a profiler and definitely not an expert on asking people out, but she wasn’t about to let this crush rot in her brain. These past few days were torture enough. “You mean, like a date?” she prompted.

Bad move on her part. He flipped suddenly trying to deny it and she had to interrupt him before he hung up on her in mortification. He was so flustered she wasn’t even sure he was speaking English.

“Spencer. Spencer!”

He tried to mumble a quick apology, but she wasn’t about to let him close off just like that.

“Spencer, I’m not going to get food with you unless it’s a date. I don’t play mind games like that.”

“You wha- So, you’d like to- I’m sorry, it’s just… Mind games?” he finally spit out.

He was a funny one. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen so quickly for some dork. When she was a kid and all the other girls would ask her ‘What do you want your future boyfriend to be like?’ she never recalled saying, ‘A real mess. Just a true goof.’

“Yes, Spencer,” she responded. “Mind games. Getting food together could easily be misinterpreted as a date and I want to go on a date with you. But if we’re going to do that, we need to both be on the same page about it. If we go get something to eat, will it be a date or are you just suggesting it to be nice?”

“I would like that. I mean, yeah… it’d be a date. If you want! I don’t wanna pressure you or- are you sure that a date is-”

“I’m still fairly new to the Virginia-DC area,” Lydia interrupted, knowing that if he wasn’t able to form a complete sentence, he’d just keep starting new ones. “Is there anywhere in particular you want to go?”

“Um… well, what do you like?”

A grin graced her face, glad to hear him finally calming down. “I’m sure whatever you like I’ll enjoy as well.”

This was it. She’d scored herself a date with the bumbling boy genius.

21 notes · View notes

ddixons-angel · 5 years

Text

Fated: Season 2

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff)

A/N: We’re already on chapter 3 of season 2? Wow time is flying! Please stay safe and healthy everyone!!!

Chapter 3:

Gloria glances around the room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her hand as she had just woken up. She sits up and looks at the clock hanging on the wall telling her that it was already noon. She figured it must have been the large feast Lori and Carol had cooked for everyone that helped her sleep so well; that and the fact that she had a comfy bed to sleep in.

“I should get up.” she says as she looks over to the crutches leaning on the wall next to the bed, but just before she reaches out to grab them, there’s a knock on the door.

“You’re awake.” Carol smiles at her as she walks in with a tray of orange juice, and a plate of eggs, ham, and toast.

Gloria blushes and nods, “That I am.”

“I brought you some breakfast... or would you consider this lunch?” Carol teases as she places the tray down on the chair right by the bed.

“I just woke up, so that,” Gloria gestures to the tray, “is still breakfast for me.”

Carol chuckles at this, “so, how are you feeling?”

“Well, I’m pretty well rested, so that’s a plus. Don’t think I can walk on my own two feet yet though, haven’t tried.” Gloria tugs at the sheets, revealing her ankle that’s still swollen and bruised, “yeah, doesn’t look like it.”

“Take it easy on yourself.” Carol tells her, patting her shoulder.

Gloria looks up at her and smiles, “I will, don’t worry. And once I can walk properly, the first thing I’ll do is go out to find Sophia.”

A soft but sad smile spreads on Carol’s lips, “thank you.”

Gloria puts her hand on Carol’s and gives it a gentle, comforting squeeze. Carol nods to the food, telling Gloria to eat before leaving the room. Gloria sighs as she takes the tray from the chair and puts it in her lap, then starts digging in. A moment later, another knock is heard on the door and Gloria looks up to see Daryl walking in.

“Hey, how ya feelin’?” he asks.

She swallows a bite before answering, “well, pretty popular to be honest, getting a lot of visits within the hour.”

Daryl rolls his eyes and scoffs at her answer, “what about that?” he asks, gesturing to her ankle.

Gloria glances at it then back at Daryl, “from the looks of it, not good. Haven’t tried walking on it yet, don’t think I’m about to try, either.”

“Sprained?” his eyes never leaving her ankle.

She nods, “yeah...”

Without saying anything else, Daryl sits down on the chair and gently takes her ankle, slowly moving it into his lap. He starts to gently massaging it, his touch light but still effective. Gloria blushes and smiles at the gesture, remembering that she had helped him the same way when he had a light sprain on his wrist.

“How’s this?” he asks, his eyes avoiding hers.

“Feels nice.” Gloria says, taking a piece of bread from her plate and nibbling on it, “and how are you feeling?” she asks in regards to his own injuries, as he grunts in response Gloria rolls her eyes and mocks his grunt, making him look at her.

“Ain’ dead yet, ain’ gon’ be bedridden neither.” he finally says.

A pang of guilt hits Gloria as she looks away from him, “not like I want to be...” she says softly.

“Di’n’t mean that.” Daryl says quickly, “look, I ain’ good wit’ words, a’right? But that ain’ what I meant.”

Gloria sighs and nods, “Sorry... I guess I’m just moody today. I hate just sitting here, sleeping all day, not doing anything. Makes me feel completely useless when everyone’s outside, earning their place here, helping out one way or another.”

“That don’ make ya useless.” he looks at her seriously, “ya jus’ bein’ here, findin’ ya gave all o’ us hope. Gave me hope.”

She blinks at him, her heart fluttering at his words, she then smiles gratefully at him, “And you said you aren’t good with words.”

Daryl blushes slightly, shifting in the chair and turning his attention back to her ankle, massaging away gently, “how’s it feel?”

She smiles, “a lot better,” Gloria purses her lips together before adding, “thanks to you.” she loved that she was able to make Daryl blush the way he did around her, grinning when she saw him blushing harder at her words.

Shouting from outside turned Gloria’s attention from Daryl as she turned to look out the window where she saw Maggie storming off, leaving behind Glenn with Lori. She furrowed her brows in confusion, wincing a bit from her skin tugging at her bandage.

“Wha’s got ya frownin’ so much tha’ it hurts?” Daryl asks with a frown himself.

Gloria turns back to him and shakes her head, chuckling, “Nothing, just Glenn, I think he’s having girl problems. Hey, can you get him in here for me? I wanna know what’s going on with him and Maggie.”

Daryl scoffs, giving a disapproving look, “a’right.” he carefully puts Gloria’s leg back on the bed before getting up, “ya girls are weird.” he mutters before walking off to fetch Glenn.

“It’s called caring!” Gloria calls out after him with a grin.

She hears Daryl shouting for Glenn from outside the house and shortly after, her brother is walking into the room. She gestures for him to close the door, to which Glenn does so but now has a concerned look on his face.

“Everything okay?” Glenn asks as he sits on the chair.

Gloria shakes her head as she crosses her arms, leaning on the headboard, “Spill it, what’s up?”

“What do you mean?” Glenn says back defensively, shifting in the chair.

“Should I show you a mirror so you can see how it’s written all over your face that something’s bothering you?” Gloria says, matter-of-factly, she sighs when Glenn avoids eye contact with her, “is it Maggie?”

Glenn flinches a bit when Maggie’s name gets mentioned, letting Gloria know that she hit it right on the spot, he sighs heavily, “I really can’t hide anything from you...” he mutters to himself before looking at her, “you can’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you, okay? Promise me.”

Gloria’s eyes narrow as she sees how serious Glenn is then nods, “Promise.”

“So... last night, I was supposed to meet up with Maggie at the barn.” he starts, a slight blush creeping on his face, “For uh... things that couples do.”

“I don’t need the details of your dates, Glenn, please spare me.” Gloria chuckles, she’s always found it amusing how easily he got flustered when it came to girls.

“Alright, well, yeah, we kinda had a date arranged, but we couldn’t exactly do anything because...” he takes a deep breath, “because there are walkers in the barn.”

A small moment of silence passes between the siblings as an amused smile makes its way up to Gloria’s face, “So... you’re telling me that you got cockblocked by a barnful of walkers?”

“T-that’s beyond the point, Gloria!” Glenn’s face is scarlet red now, much to Gloria’s amusement, “does the fact that we have a barn full of walkers as our neighbor not concern you, or are you just going to keep making fun of me?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help it.” Gloria says, her expression then turns serious, “why don’t you tell Rick or Shane about it?”

“I already promised Maggie that I wouldn’t tell anyone... but then again, here I am telling you.” Glenn shrugs, “anyway, Maggie and her family, they think that the walkers are still people, sick people that can be cured.”

“Well, they’ve clearly been on the farm for way too long if they still think that.” Gloria comments, “did you tell her about what Dr. Jenner said to us at the C.D.C. about a cure?”

Glenn shakes his head, “I was going to after we came back from our run to the pharmacy, but things happened and I don’t think she thinks the same way about them anymore.”

“What happened at the pharmacy?” Gloria asks, curiously.

“We were looking around the shelves and then Maggie got grabbed by a walker,” Glenn sighs as he remembers back to the close call, “she almost got bit.”

“I’m glad she’s okay... but why did you guys need to go to the pharmacy anyway? I thought you got enough supplies when you went on the last run?” she questions.

Glenn ponders for a bit, “Lori... asked for something specific... something that we wouldn’t have here.” Gloria gives him a look to continue, and Glenn sighs, “Lori’s pregnant and she wanted to get rid of the baby without telling Rick.”

“Oh Jesus.” Gloria can’t help her expression at the news, “no wonder you’re stressed. Is that why Maggie stormed away from you two when you got back?”

Glenn blinks at her, not knowing that she witnessed the scene but then nods, “yeah.”

“So, what are you gonna do about... everything?” Gloria asks, willing to give any suggestions if needed.

He sighs heavily, leaning down with his head in his hands, “I don’t know... I already asked Dale for advice on what to do and he said he’s going to talk to Hershel about the barn..”

“Honestly, I think it’s best that you tell everyone about the walkers, it’s only a matter of time before they break through the doors and kill everyone.” Gloria suggests, giving him a worried look.

“I know, but Maggie doesn’t want me to tell anyone, plus it isn’t even my call to-” Glenn gets cut off by Gloria.

“It isn’t her call to make either, if the barn collapses and people are killed, that’s gonna be on you for not warning everyone first. Would you be able to live with that?” she pushes.

Glenn shakes his head and sighs again, “no...”

“Look, I like Maggie. She seems like a really sweet girl, but you have to realize that just because someone is sweet and pretty, doesn’t mean that they know what they’re doing.” Gloria advises, “okay, well, unless it’s me.” she adds with a cheeky grin to try and lighten up Glenn’s mood.

He laughs at that, smiling finally, “I’ll tell the group tomorrow then, in the morning when everyone’s together eating breakfast.”

“I can’t let you do this on your own.” Gloria reaches out and pats his shoulder, “you know I’m here for you, right?”

Glenn smiles and nods, “Of course. I’ll wait until you’re outside then, I don’t want you sleeping outside when you still need rest.”

Gloria groans playfully, “fine, I’ll stay in this warm house and comfy bed.” she jokingly complains, earning another laugh from her brother.

---

The next morning, Gloria wakes up as the bright rays of the sun hit her face; she purposely slept with the curtains open so that the early morning sun would wake her. She yawns as she stretches, reaching for the crutches and mounts them as she gets off the bed. Carefully but surely, she makes her way outside. Once on the porch, Gloria pauses as she blinks at the steps going down.

“Need help?” she looks up to see Daryl making his way over to her, smirking as he sees her conundrum.

“Yeah.” She pouts as Daryl leans on the railing, “well, don’t just stand there, help me!” she pleads.

Chuckling, Daryl pushes himself off the railing and makes his way up the steps to meet her, taking her crutches and leans them on the side rail, then picks her up bridal style without warning. Naturally, Gloria wraps her arm around Daryl’s neck, he looks to her and they both blush as they realize how physically close they are.

He clears his throat, “grab those.” he nods pointedly to the crutches, then carefully goes down the stairs with her in his arms once she has hold of the crutches.

“You can just put me down by Glenn’s tent.” she tells him, pointing to the little stump where the others are.

Daryl complies and slowly places her down on the ground once they get there, Gloria hops on her good foot with Daryl holding her arm so she can keep her balance before sitting on the stump. He silently goes over to the lawnchair by Carol’s tent and sits. Gloria looks over to Glenn who is standing beside her, overlooking everyone nervously. He spots Maggie who had just come out of the house, standing on the porch and gives a stern look to Glenn, shaking her head. He sighs and looks over to Dale who nods at him. Torn, Glenn looks to Gloria for support and she smiles reassuringly at him as she nods.

Taking a deep breath, he finally decides to do what needs to be done, “Uh guys...?” he starts, catching everyone’s attention, “the barn is full of walkers.”

Everyone freezes at his words, looking at him in fear and shock. Glenn looks around at the group nervously, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, waiting for someone, anyone to speak.

---

Next Chapter

The news is out! Now they all know about the walker barn~ hope you all enjoyed the little fluffy moment between Gloria and Daryl, that was cute to write ehehe

In regards to everything that’s happening though, I really want to say I hope everyone stays safe and healthy, please don’t panic, we will get through this!

And as always, I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

#Daryl Dixon Fanfiction #Daryl Dixon X OC #Daryl Dixon X Original Character #TWD Fanfiction #The Walking Dead Fanfiction #Glenn Sister!OC #Glenn Sister!Original Character #Fated: S2: Chapter 3 #Fated: Season 2

110 notes · View notes

gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 5 years

Link

Rating: T

Word Count: 5373

Summary:

The prescription for Mr. Chan. Who was Master Fu. That he'd given to Ladybug. That Marinette had given to Adrien.

That prescription.

In which Adrien uses the brain cell, and (wrongly) assumes that Ladybug has too.

(Reveal fic set during/after Backwarder.)

XXX

“Congratulations, Adrien. You wasted your one chance to sneak away from your dad on a trip to the drugstore.”

“Come on, Plagg.” Adrien tapped the side of his headphones, hoping it would look like he was speaking into them and not to the magical being hidden inside his jacket. Not that there were that many people in the Asda’s at eight at night to overhear him. “This is important. You know Marinette wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”

“Because she couldn’t just get those stupid pills at home?”

Adrien shook his head and sighed. Plagg wouldn’t understand. Honestly, Adrien didn’t understand either, but he trusted Marinette. There had to be a good reason for her request… even if hours of pondering the prescription hadn’t given him any clues. It wasn’t even written for her, but for someone named Lee Chan. Was he a friend? Relative? Secret boyfriend? There was no birthday or age written on the prescription, so it was anyone’s guess, though Plagg had snorted at that last and wildest theory.

“At least get me some camembert on your way out. Half of mine got smushed in your suitcase.”

“Will do.”

He popped out his earbuds as he approached the pharmacy counter. A few employees bustled in the back, looking busy even though the area was deserted.

“Hi, picking up or dropping off?” A short-haired employee who looked to be in her early twenties asked as she met him at the register. Her name tag said Elaine.

“Uh, I’m not really sure,” he admitted sheepishly and unfolded the prescription from his pocket. “I haven’t been to a pharmacy before. My friend asked me to get this medicine.”

He handed over the prescription, and Elaine pushed up her glasses before squinting at the incomprehensible handwriting. Well, incomprehensible to Adrien at least. Hopefully the employee could read it.

“For mister Lee Chan, right?” She asked, typing something into the computer.

“Um, yeah.” That was one of the few parts of the prescription he could read.

“What’s his date of birth?”

“Er, I don’t know. It’s for my friend’s… friend,” he settled on. Hopefully it was true enough.

“I can’t fill a prescription without the patient's birthday,” Elaine said apologetically. “There are some over-the-counter laxatives the pharmacist could recommend instead, or you can give Mr. Chan a call and get his birthday.”

Laxatives? Adrien hadn’t been able to make out the medicine name, and he wouldn’t have known what it was for if he had. But no matter how confused he was, it didn’t change the fact that Marinette was counting on him.

“I have to get this prescription. Marinette sent me all the way from Paris to get it.”

“All the way… from Paris?” Elaine squinted at the prediction again. “I’m sure they carry bisacodyl in France too. You sure she’s not playing a prank on you?”

“I’m positive.”

Marinette wouldn’t do something like that. She was always trying to help her friends out; she would never go out of her way to mess with him. And she’d looked so sincere when she’d handed the paper to him at the train station…

“What I want more than anything else in the world is written on this piece of paper and... only you can give it to me!”

He was still no closer to understanding why the prescription was so important—or why he was the only one for the job—but he wouldn’t let her down.

“I’ll just have to call Marinette. I don’t have her friend’s phone number.”

He winced as he looked behind him and saw the line that had formed. He didn’t know how much time he had before his bodyguard found him—probably a little longer than usual, since Kagami was covering for him—but he didn’t want to hold everyone else up, either.

“It’s written here if you want it, actually.” Elaine passed the prescription back to him. “I hope you can get it all worked out. It sounds like you’re a pretty great friend to come all this way for her.”

His face warmed a little. “I hope so.”

He thanked Elaine and stepped out of the way, sitting down on the waiting bench and pulling out his phone.

“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” Plagg hissed from his jacket. “Pharmacy girl was probably right the first time. Pigtails is just playing some kind of joke.”

“Plagg, you know Marinette,” Adrien whispered, keeping an eye out for any eavesdroppers. Most people in line were on their own phones or otherwise occupied, though. “She wouldn’t do that.”

He popped in his headphones and began typing out the number.

“Adrien, really, you shouldn’t—”

“Come on, the worst thing that happens is Mr. Chan wonders why I’m asking for his birthday. If he really needs his medicine as bad as Marinette says, he’ll understand.”

“You are setting the bar way too low, kid. This could be a disaster. I’m the kwami of destruction, I would know!”

Adrien quirked his eyebrow. It wasn’t like Plagg to freak out about anything other than cheese, and he hadn’t objected this badly to coming to the pharmacy in the first place.

“...I guess I could still call Marinette, but I really don’t have much time, and she might not know either,” he murmured to himself. He shook his head. “Unless you want to tell me why you’re so worried...”

Plagg groaned, but offered no explanation.

“Disaster it is, then.” Adrien shrugged and hit call.

At first, he thought no one was going to pick up. The phone rang and rang—but finally a pained voice answered.

“Nngh… hello? Who is this?”

Huh. That voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. Maybe it was just the accent he recognized from his Mandarin lessons.

“Mr. Chan? This is Adrien—” Marinette’s friend, he was about to explain, but the man cut him off.

“Adrien? How did you get this number?” Now he sounded more panicked than anything. And—

Wait, he did recognize that voice—and that name, though he now remembered it for the pseudonym it was.

“Master Fu?”

Plagg muttered a string of colorful cheese-themed curses Adrien didn’t recognize.

“Is there—urk—an emergency?” Master Fu groaned. “Is Ladybug in danger?”

“No, no, there’s no emergency,” Adrien assured the Guardian. “Except—well, I’m trying to fill your prescription. The pharmacy needs your birthday.”

“What?” There was a long pause, and then— “Why did Ladybug ask you to fill my prescription?”

“She didn’t.” Adrien’s brow furrowed. “Marinette did.”

…

Wait.

…

“No way,” he breathed, at the same time Plagg let out a groan loud enough to be heard by the people standing in line. “Master—er, Mr. Chan—is Marinette—?”

“Tikki is going to kill me,” Plagg moaned. Which pretty much settled that.

He shouldn’t have asked. He knew their identities were meant to be secret, and this was the Guardian, if he knew Adrien knew, he could take Ladybug’s miraculous—

Ice settled in the pit of Adrien’s stomach. “Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter.”

Master Fu’s sigh crackled through the headphones. “She was careless. That much does matter.”

“It’s not Marinette’s fault!” He burst, drawing a few stares. He hunched his shoulders and repeated more quietly, “It’s not her fault. You can’t take her miraculous, she’s Ladybug, she’s the only Ladybug and if you take hers you’ll—you’ll have to take mine too.”

“Adrien—”

“I mean it. Good luck finding someone else who can afford Plagg’s cheese addiction. And good luck finding another Ladybug who could do her job half as well as Marinette.”

“Adrien, please don’t—” This time it was Plagg who was whispering, who knew Adrien would go through with it. It wasn’t the first time he’d threatened to give up being Chat Noir. Before it had been because he thought Ladybug didn’t trust him—but her secrecy had been because of Fu.

It wasn’t fair, that he could have so much power over their lives, when they were the ones risking them.

“Adrien.” Fu’s tone might have made him flinch, if it wasn’t for weakness underlying it. “Nngh… you have a point. I cannot afford to find a new Ladybug and Chat Noir… and I do not believe I should. You two are a remarkable team, Tikki and Plagg’s Chosen. But this is still a great risk…”

“If Hawkmoth akumatizes me, I know, I know. I’ve been careful. I’ll keep being careful.”

He’d never let his Lady down before, and he wasn’t about to start now.

“I know you will. Make no mistake, Adrien, Plagg and I trusted you with the cat miraculous for a reason. You have shown great care in the use of your powers.”

Adrien blinked at the praise. Sure, he knew Fu had given him the miraculous, in a roundabout way—but he’d never actually been told that he was doing a good job before. The Master always seemed to trust Ladybug with the important details. Like Chat Noir was just an afterthought—a sidekick.

“You mean it?”

“Yes. And… I suppose it was my fault that you’ve found Ladybug’s identity, as well.” Adrien could practically hear the wince in the Master’s voice. “I cannot fault you or her for that.”

Slowly the tension leaked out of his shoulders. He was okay. Marinette was going to be okay. They weren’t being split up, they were a team, and—and Ladybug was Marinette and Marinette was Ladybug and he did not have time to unpack all that right now. He still needed to get Master Fu’s constipation medicine before the Gorilla tracked him down.

“Okay, so… we’re good, right?” Adrien asked.

Fu chuckled. “Yes, Adrien. We are good. But we will have to talk about this with Ladybug to make sure she feels the same.”

“No. I’ll talk about this with Ladybug,” he insisted. “I won’t hide this from her, but… let me tell her myself. Please.”

The adrenaline of confronting the Master began to drain from him, leaving him to realize how his and Ladybug’s partnership could change. She’d never wanted him to know her identity. He could only hope she would forgive him—and that she wouldn’t be too disappointed to find out who he really was, too.

Unless… she already knew? That would make more sense, considering her insistence that he needed to fill Fu’s prescription. He’d told her as Chat that he was going out of town for the weekend, since he didn’t want her to worry if an akuma attacked and he didn’t show. Had she managed to piece his identity together from that? Her mind could make the most amazing connections; it was possible he’d done something else to tip her off too.

He would have to worry about that later, though. He still had a job to do.

“Alright,” Fu conceded. “Don’t delay too long, though. And you said… urk… you needed my birthday?”

“Oh. Right.” The reason he’d called in the first place.

“Nngh… well, I’m actually one hundred and eighty-six years old, but the pharmacy won’t believe that… Wayzz, what was my fake birthday again?”

“November twenty-ninth, nineteen forty-two,” a higher-pitched voice (a kwami, Adrien assumed) spoke into the phone.

“Thanks,” Adrien said quickly. “I better get back in line. Hope you feel better Mr. Chan.”

He ended the call and stood in line behind a mom and her sick child. Immediately, he was subjected to Plagg punching him in the ribs.

“Geez, Adrien, did you have to scare me like that!? You should’ve just threatened not to get his constipation meds! You didn’t have to tell him you’d give me back!”

Adrien winced and patted his kwami beneath his jacket. The woman in front of him was too occupied to notice, and who cared what she thought anyway? No one in London would know about kwamis, and he still wore his earbuds just in case.

“Sorry, Plagg, I kind of panicked. I can’t lose Ladybug, or Marinette… or both of them—”

“Say it a little louder why don’t you?” Plagg hissed sarcastically. “You heard Fu, so just chill out and get those drugs. You’ll have plenty of time to freak out over your girlfriend later.”

“Marinette’s not my girlfriend,” he said automatically, his heart plummeting. He already knew Ladybug was in love with someone else. Why did that hurt so much more knowing she was Marinette?

Maybe because if he hadn’t been so enthralled with Ladybug, he might’ve the depth of his feelings for Marinette. Because she was so kind, and funny—in a different way from when she was Ladybug, but still—and always helping others like the time she’d helped him hide from his bodyguard, and she had the cutest smile when she didn’t think he was watching—

And he’d called her just a friend. Multiple times.

As soon as they weren’t in public, he had a feeling Plagg would have a good cackle about that.

“Back with Mr. Chan’s birthday?” Elaine asked, snapping him out of those thoughts.

He hadn’t realized he’d reached the front of the line… and he’d been so preoccupied he’d forgotten Fu’s birthday already. Thankfully Plagg was able to whisper it to him from under his collar.

“Perfect.” Elaine took the prescription, scanned it, typed some more things, and then finally smiled at him. “It should be ready for pick up in about twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to avoid his bodyguard, snag Plagg some cheese, and try not to scream at how stupid he’d been.

Well, technically he’d been right. He was just a friend to Marinette.

He hoped that by the time he admitted to knowing her secret, he’d still be at least that much.

XXX

Okay. Okay. He could do this. He’d had exactly thirty-six hours to puzzle out why Marinette had given him the prescription, and how to face her without turning to mush.

“What I want more than anything else in the world is written on this piece of paper and... only you can give it to me!”

The paper led him to Fu, which led him to her identity. Was it too much of a stretch to believe that this was one of Marinette’s convoluted lucky charm-esque plans? Maybe she wasn’t allowed to reveal that she was Ladybug directly, but if he figured it out… maybe she thought Master Fu would understand. Which he had. Like all of Ladybug’s plans, it had worked out miraculously.

It was the only explanation he could think of that made some kind of sense. Anyone could’ve picked up the constipation medicine. But only one person would see “Mr. Chan” and be able to connect the dots back to Ladybug.

The thought had given him confidence—but he still needed confirmation. And to do that, he needed to talk to her.

Step one: walk towards her. He did this every day, as both Chat Noir and Adrien, but he still had to keep his legs from sprinting up the school stairs to where she was chatting with the girls in their class. He needed to be normal.

(At least until he could find out for sure how much she knew. Maybe then, he could end this whole charade of pretending he didn’t want to spin her in his arms.)

“Come on, lover boy.” Plagg slapped him from inside his shirt. “You can’t stand around drooling all day. Stick some cheese in your mouth, at least pretend it’s over food.”

“I’m not drooling,” he said, clutching the pharmacy bag tighter. Not on the outside, anyway.

At least Plagg couldn’t see the lovestruck smile on his face, even if the kwami could probably feel his heart pounding. He’d thought he’d be too nervous to look at Marinette, but it was his first time seeing her knowing it was her, it was her it was her she was his Lady—well his partner even if she didn’t want to be more than that—and the air smelled a little sweeter just for sharing it with her.

He was up the stairs. Perfect. Now for step two: talk to her like a normal human being and without revealing either of them in front of their friends.

“Uh, hey Marinette!” His voice already came out too high.

Before he could figure out what to say from there, Alya was shoving a wide-eyed Marinette towards him. Why did she look so scared? It was just him… unless she did know his identity, which was looking more and more likely.

Still, her stress actually helped calm him—if she was worried, then he would set aside his own fears and do whatever he could to make her more comfortable.

“I was very surprised when I read your letter, but since it seemed to be so important, I spent the whole weekend walking around London looking for it…” He held out the pharmacy bag as the girls squealed behind her. “For you.”

Even if he knew it wasn’t actually for her, he couldn’t drop any hints that he knew about Master Fu in front of the girls. He thought she’d feel better knowing he wouldn’t be so careless with her secret, but she was still so tense Alya had to guide her hands to grab the bag.

“Er… thank you,” she practically croaked.

Clearly his plan to put her at ease wasn’t working, but he had no idea what he’d done wrong. Did she just want him to leave her alone? He could go to class and pretend nothing had happened… but he really wasn’t sure he could keep himself from melting around her for that long.

“Is it alright if I talk to you alone? There’s some, uh, information the pharmacist wanted me to pass on…”

Marinette looked like she wanted to dissolve into the sidewalk. Maybe that wasn’t the best excuse, then, though it did make the other girls scatter with conspiratory giggles.

“Sure. Why not.” She sighed, head hanging. “I can’t humiliate myself any more, I guess…”

He hoped he’d heard that last part wrong, muttered under her breath as it was. He couldn’t think of any reason she had to be embarrassed. She was clever, she was amazing, she was Marinette.

And for all that his heart pounded as he walked next to her, she wouldn’t even look at him. Maybe… maybe she was just as nervous about navigating this reveal? That thought was comforting, at least. This was new territory for both of them—but they’d do it like they did everything else: as a team.

“A… broom closet?” She finally looked at him when she realized where they were headed.

“Is that okay? I actually had something really important to talk to you about and I didn’t want anyone to overhear.”

“Right. About the… constipation medicine.” She groaned before forcing the fakest smile he’d ever seen. And he would know; he’d been Chloe’s friend long enough to perfect them, even ignoring his modeling experience.

“L-let’s just get this over with.” She opened the door, and he followed her inside.

He’d used this closet to transform a few times—when the bathroom and locker room were occupied—but even with the mops and trashbags shoved in a corner, he didn’t remember it being this cramped. Maybe he was just hyperaware of how Marinette (Ladybug) (Marinette) was standing just a breath away. She smelled like sugar and cinnamon and now was not the time to get distracted! He still had to pull off step three of his plan…

Step three. What had step three been? Don’t sniff Marinette’s hair? See, this was why he usually left the planning to her.

“Um, Adrien?” She asked, voice squeaking slightly. “Were you going to tell me what the pharmacist said, or…?”

“Oh! Right.” Wrong, he was not here to talk about that but Master Fu probably would need the instructions just in case, so he dug the neatly folded papers out of his backpack. “She wanted him to have this. I don’t really remember what it says, I was…” freaking out because YOU’RE LADYBUG. “...y-yeah.”

She stared wide-eyed at him, and he realized he’d let his nervousness show. “I’m so sorry Adrien! Ugh, you probably think I’m such a weirdo, asking you to get me—w-wait, you said the pharmacist wanted… for… him?”

Her mouth stayed open in a tiny o, and he looked away to keep from staring at her lips. Even Ladybug had never affected him so badly before, but then again he wasn’t usually around Ladybug as Adrien, without an akuma to fight, with no more than a few centimeters between them, with no mask hiding the dusting of freckles across her nose…

He swallowed too hard and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Um. I know it wasn’t for you. There someone else’s name on the prescription.”

Tell her tell her TELL HER come on Adrien, she probably knows anyway—

Except… she looked surprised that he knew about Fu. Maybe she didn’t think he was smart enough to figure it out? But then why go through all that trouble?

“Someone… oh.” She bit her lip and fidgeted with her hands. “Of course. Right. Mr. Chan—he’s my… second uncle twice removed! Yeah! It wasn’t for me, I would never ask you to—I didn’t even mean to give that to you at all,” she blurted.

“You—you didn’t?” He gaped as his hopes began unravelling at the seams. “Then why—you said only I could get it for you…”

“I wasn’t talking about the complication—constipation medicine!” She slapped her hands over her face. “Ugh, I should’ve known this would be a stidaster—disaster! Every time I try I just—agh!”

Her shoulders shook; was she—was she crying?

“Marinette…?”

The telltale shine of water leaked through her fingers.

Forget the plan. Forget any plans. His Lady was crying.

He scooped her into a hug, pressing her to him and resting his cheek against her head. “I’m sorry, whatever I did I promise I’ll do my best to fix it, or even if it’s not me I—I’ll do anything for you, Marinette.”

She stiffened in his arms before letting out a breathy chuckle. “Because we’re friends?”

Because I love you, he didn’t say. Still, he’d do anything for her even if she was just a friend, so it wasn’t technically a lie when he said, “Yeah. Of course.”

“Right…” She sighed, pulling out of his arms.

His heart broke a little more at the hurt on her face. When could he be the one to relieve her pain instead of adding to it?

“Thanks for getting the medicine, Adrien. I appreciate it, really.”

Her hand reached for the door handle, and on instinct he reached to wrap his fingers around hers.

“Marinette—please don’t go.”

She paused, looking back at him. A few lingering tears glimmered in the closet’s uneven lighting, and before he realized what he was doing, his thumb was brushing them away.

“I meant it, Marinette. Even if you don’t love me back, I’d do anything to stop you from hurting.”

Marinette blinked. Her eyelashes were so long, and he wished he could kiss every one of them—and then he realized what he’d said.

His face burned hotter than ever. “I’m sorry—I meant to word that better, I still need to tell you—” How was he supposed to tell her he knew her secret now? She was already upset about something; and now he was even less sure that he was supposed to know—

“You think I don’t… you have no idea,” she breathed.

He chuckled at the pink dusting her cheeks. At least no more tears lingered there.

“I have no idea about a lot of things, apparently. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Adrien, I…” She bit her lip and looked away. “I’ve been trying to tell you for so long…”

“You have?” His heart rose. She had to be talking about her secret, right? She’d been trying to tell him she was Ladybug! She wanted him to know; she wasn’t going to hate him—!

She took a deep breath and met his eyes, just as he did the same.

“I have a crush on you!” “I know you’re Ladybug.”

Marinette’s face froze in a look of abject horror while the loading wheel in Adrien’s brain turned.

And then, like the two halves they were, they simultaneously screamed.

“WHAT!?”

“How do you know that—!”

“You have a crush on me?” The dopiest grin broke out on his face, but he didn’t even care. Marinette had a crush on him! But… she’d just turned down Chat Noir again last week, and if she had a crush on Adrien then…

She didn’t know his identity after all.

And judging by the rapid breaths she was taking, she had not intended for him to know hers.

“This is bad this is bad this is bad oh Tikki Master Fu is going to kill me! And take away my miraculous! How did you find out!?”

She backed him against the wall, looking every bit as terrifying as he knew Ladybug could be.

He swallowed thickly.

“Uh. Is there any chance we could go back to the part where you said you had a crush on me?” He grinned too wide. Bad timing, but she already knew that stress did that to him. (Or at least, that it did to Chat Noir. Who was a completely different person to her.)

Her face flushed red. “Forget about that! You’re not supposed to know who I am! No one can know! I won’t be able to be Ladybug anymore—!”

“Of course you’ll be Ladybug.” He took her hands before she could tear out her pigtails. “You’re the only one who could be Ladybug. I know that. Paris knows that. Even Master Fu knows that.”

“Master… Fu…? But…”

He watched her thought process play out in her rapidly shifting expressions, half-finished sentences, and frantic hand movements—some of which almost smacked him in the face, but honestly, he was just grateful she wasn’t trying to smack him on purpose.

Then, finally, her eyes met his in understanding.

“Chat… Chat Noir.”

He winked in spite of the nervousness fluttering in his stomach. “The one and only.”

He kept up Chat’s signature grin even as her face remained blank. Please, please don’t be mad, please don’t regret it’s me…

Then, finally, she let out a laugh. “Of course it was you. Of course I’d ask Chat Noir to get me constipation medicine.”

“You did say I was the only one who could give it to you,” he pointed out, still confused, but slowly relaxing. She wasn’t mad. At least, he didn’t think she was. It was hard to tell, with her face still flushed, her fists opening and clenching tensely.

“Because I wasn’t talking about the prescription then! Ugh!” She smacked her forehead. “I thought I was supposed to be lucky…”

“Maybe I rubbed off you,” he mumbled with a grimace. “Are you… disappointed, then? To know it’s me?”

That would be even worse than her being angry. He could understand if she was upset—neither of them expected to learn their partner’s identity this way, and there was their safety to worry about—but disappointed? She would only feel that way if she didn’t feel he measured up outside of the mask.

(Or maybe inside of it. Considering which side of him she’d had a crush on…)

“No, no, of course not!” She waved spastically. “You’re Adrien, who could ever be disappointed in you? I’m just—processing everything. Yeah.”

“Do you need a minute? I can give you some space—”

“NO!”

She practically launched herself at him—her arms bracketing his shoulders against the wall. While he might have imagined Ladybug pinning him like this, he usually didn’t picture her looking so embarrassed about it. But she still didn’t move away.

“I need to know,” she said after taking a moment to catch her breath. “You said Fu knows I need to be Ladybug. Does he… does he know you know my identity?”

He nodded mutely, hoping she couldn’t hear his heart beating out of his chest. His legs had buckled slightly when she almost-tackled him, putting them at nearly the same height. Her face was so close, it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

“And he’s... not going to take my miraculous?”

He shook his head, then cleared his dry throat. “He’d have to take mine too. The two of us can’t be replaced that easily.”

A relieved smile broke out on her face, banishing the last of Adrien’s fear with its glow.

“Good. You’re irreplaceable, kitty. You deserve to know that.”

Oh, he could’ve kissed her then. (But then again, was there a moment he wouldn’t?)

“No one could take your place either, my Lady,” he whispered. Not to Paris. And definitely not to me.

“Of course. We’re kind of a package deal. You and me against the world, you know.”

When she pulled back enough to hold up her fist for their usual fist bump, he knew everything was going to be okay.

“You and me,” he echoed. “Pound it?”

“Pound it.” She laughed and bumped his fist. It was weird without the suits—just being able to feel the skin of her knuckles against his set off sparks. He really was that hopeless.

But then her arm fell back to her side, and her expression turned slightly nervous again.

“...One last question,” she said. “A-and I know it’s a lot, considering we just found out who each other are—or well, you knew, but I didn’t, and… Well. You don’t have to answer.”

“You know I’ll tell you anything, Bugaboo.”

For the first time, she didn’t tell him to stop calling her that. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign.

She took a deep breath, wringing her hands, before meeting his eyes.

“Do you still... love me? Even though I’m Marinette, and I turned you down for… well, you.”

A chain reaction of fireworks burst through him. He’d been the one Ladybug loved all along; she really thought he’d be upset about that? Besides—

“You’re Marinette. How could I not love you?”

He had about two seconds to appreciate the stunned blush on her face.

And then she was pulling him down to crash her lips against his, and he was perfectly content to appreciate that instead.

XXX

Marinette and Adrien missing class was nothing surprising, honestly. Those two disappeared often enough that if Alya wasn’t the sounding board for all of Marinette’s dramatic pining, she would’ve thought they were secretly dating already.

But them missing first period? Today? When Marinette had (supposedly) finally confessed her love?

Nino could take notes for her. Alya needed answers.

The locker room was deserted, which was a bad sign. That was the first place she would’ve expected them to have a heart-to-heart, but maybe that was too obvious? Too many other class-cutting witnesses? At least the bathroom was vacant too—so Marinette wasn’t broken-hearted, crying, and/or in danger of being akumatized.

Probably. Though Adrien would have to be an idiot to turn Marinette down, it was still possible. Maybe she should check some more secluded hiding places, just in case Marinette had hunkered down somewhere to avoid butterflies.

“Marinette?” She called, slipping into a quiet hallway.

Well, mostly quiet. She was pretty sure she heard something coming from behind that closet door…

In hindsight, it probably would’ve been more tactful to knock.

But then she would’ve missed her best friend making out with Adrien against the wall of the broom closet.

It took a few seconds for them to realize she was there—which was fair; it took about that long for Alya to believe she wasn’t hallucinating. They broke apart, red-faced and blinking owlishly. Or Marinette was, anyway; Adrien was too busy staring at her and swooning.

Just what had her girl written in that letter?

“Well it’s about time.” Alya pulled out her phone and snapped a picture. “You’ll want this for your wedding montage. You’re welcome.”

“Alya!”

She just grinned and shut the door.

(It didn’t open again for some time.)

#miraculous ladybug #adrinette #adrienette #love square #reveal #fic tag #tali writes #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #my brand is writing canon-divergent reveals and i'm sticking to it

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jtrokujo · 4 years

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Title: Mei

Word Count: 1.716

Warnings: no one

(Y/N) Pov

Two months ago today, Katsuki and I said yes, as if it was that day, no problems or worries, there was just my quickly irritated husband, our family and friends and of course me.

And now? Now we both cuddle together on our bed, my head lying on his trained chest and his right trained arm around me and watch the Lion King, until I suddenly noticed soft and gentle kisses on my head I looked up and saw his ruby red Eyes that are filled with deep pleasure, when I wanted to say something, his slightly out but soft lips landed on mine.

This kiss was filled with love and lust, but my husband interrupted this kiss by taking off his black t-shirt after he had matured his lips greedily for mine again.

Time skip

When I woke up I smelled the prepared food from Katsuki I put on his black T-shirt from yesterday and kept him company, when I entered the kitchen I saw the ash blonde in front of the stove which is why I hugged him from behind.

"Good morning, fool." he said in a soft voice, but you could hear that he is still a little tired, it is understandable that it is shortly before eight and we both fell asleep a little later than usual.

"Good morning, did you sleep well?" I asked my husband, he answered yes and asked me to sit down, actually I wanted to help him, but he prefers to make breakfast and has already covered the table, which is why I decided to do the dishes afterwards.

When Katsuki was finished he brought the food just before he could put it on the table with a puke, without hesitation I ran as fast as I could into the bathroom and threw up after I opened the toilet seat.

Katsuki, who was briefly surprised about this situation, now joins me and ties my hair with a hair tie and asked in a worried voice "(Y / N)! Shall we take you to the doctor?" I instead flushed it down and took out toilet paper and cleaned my mouth.

The Katsuki, who is actually always confident and strong, has disappeared.

I saw a worried man who was afraid of losing something important. "Take a shower, I'll find a solution." he said and kissed the top of my hair.

I took off my clothes and started taking a shower while Katsuki went to the kitchen.

Katsuki Pov

With slightly trembling hands I took my cell phone and decided to call her, after a few seconds, which Katsuki felt like minutes, the person answered the call and said "Katsuki?" came her voice from the line "Oi Hex- mother I need your help."

3rd person Pov

The Ash blonde's mother was a little surprised, but she asks what the problem is "(Y / N) is not okay, she had to spit out of nowhere and got a severe headache now she is in the shower, but I don't know what I can do. " he said desperately and was very close to tears, although that is quite unusual for him.

The mother only stayed for a few seconds until she asked her son "When was the last time you had sex?" the son immediately keep still and his cheeks got a rosy tone "Yesterday." was the only thing he could say, "Did you use prevention, Katsu?" Katsuki tried to remember until he finally said, "Well, I always use the condoms for safety, but (Y / N) also uses the pills, maybe it's just the side effects." the mother laughed at her son and advised him to go to the pharmacy to get pregnancy tests, preferably 2 different ones, and thus hung up.

The man grunted to himself until finally heard nothing.

(Y / N) Pov

With my bathrobe I go into the bedroom until I noticed quick steps I was about to use my quirk until I saw it.

"Katsu?" he looked at me briefly until I noticed a relieved sigh "are you okay?" I asked him directly, he gave me a nice smile and said "I should probably ask you that, don't you think?" I giggled lightly and said "I'm fine thanks for asking."

"Ok. I'll be back in about 20 minutes." Katsuki said to his wife, however, she looked at him puzzled and asked him where he would like to go, he just said that it was not important and that he had to go now.

With astonished (Y / N) stayed in the bedroom until she decided to go to the living room, but the nausea rose again over my head, so that I ran back to the bathroom and threw up again, after I brush my teeth I go in the living room and turned on the television.

While I was watching (favorite film), I saw the wall clock and saw that Katskuich was about to come- "I'm back!" I pushed the blanket over my legs and hugged my husband tightly, Katsuki wrapped his trained arms around me and kissed the top of my hair and said "I know it sounds strange, but ..." he pulled easily and showed me two pregnancy tests "Uh ... Katsu, I'll take the pill." I said and looked at him in surprise, but he looked at me pleadingly and then said "Two are worth trying." and played with the two tests.

Time skip

Now we're both sitting in the bathroom and waiting for the results "Shall we?" Katsuki asked me and pointed to the tests that we had both turned around to then turn it around at the same time, I nodded and turned the two tests over.

"I - I'll be a father, we'll be parents, (Y / N)!" Katsuki almost screamed with joy and couldn't hold back tears, just like me.

He took me in his arms and turned me around like a princess, when I landed on the floor again he gave me a kiss that I could only return.

3rd person Pov

In front of the TV, the hairy (H / C) caresses her already large belly.

It's hard to believe that it has been almost 9 months since the happy couple found out that they were having a baby girl.

(Y / N) Pov

Both had suited themselves to the name Mei, the baby shower was perfect, Kirishma had organized everything perfectly with the help of Denki and for that Katsuki and I were more than grateful.

Katsuki is in the supermarket to buy the ingredients for a special dish, I wanted to come along, but he said that he could do it on his own and that I should rest for the next few days.

But you also have to say that he already got a character development through my pregnancy and fortunately in a positive way, but you can still experience his aggressiveness, but he does not take it out on me but grits his teeth and quickly tries to calm down to find.

"I'm back!" Your voice rang out, I slowly pushed away the cozy blanket that was on my legs and slowly got up, but still held my right hand on my stomach and stroked this something.

I kept him company in the kitchen, but when I wanted to get something from the shopping bag he came up to me at a fast pace and held my hand "N- no, let me do that." I giggled at it and said "What should I do with me-" but just before I could say anything I looked on the floor.

Katsuki, my husband, looked at me a little confused and also looked at the floor, without hesitation he ran in the bedroom and fetched the bag with spare clothes etc.

I tried to breathe as well as possible, because our child could come out now, although the due date is in about 3 weeks.

"(Y / N), breathe easy with me ok?" said my husband after he put on the bag and lifted me bridal style, but the pain started "Katsu." I groaned from the pain and just hoped it would end as soon as possible.

Once in the car, my husband drove off so quickly - but still made sure not to cause an accident.

Arrived as already in the intensive care unit, everything prepared, the doctors are already there and of course my husband, who had been holding my hand the whole time.

"Katsu, it hurts." I said with tears in my eyes and looked at him the whole time "I don't know how much it hurts, (Y / N), but I know that you are the strongest woman I have ever known." he said and kissed the top of my hair.

"Ok, Ms. Bakugou, you have to press now." said the doctor, which I also did, well I screamed the whole time and pressed it too.

"Keep it up, I already saw the head." said the doctor with delight, my husband looked at me happily and said "You can do it, teddy bear!" and now I pressed even more until we all heard a scream in the room, not mine but from my daughter.

"Ms. Bakugou, you have to press something again, then it's over with." said a nurse and smiled at me.

I was still holding my husband's hand and just squeezed one last time, "You did it, (Y / N), I love you." said Katsuki and kissed my lips "I love you too, Katsuki, may we see our daughter?" I now ask an employee, she said that we would get it in a moment and that I should take a rest while I answered this with an 'Ok' and briefly closed my eyes.

"And that's your mother." I opened my eyes and closed them again very quickly because the light shone too much on my eyes.

"Katsuki?" I said softly and looked at his arms, he was holding our child and smiling at her the whole time "Do you want to hold them in your arms too, Mei?" he asked me.

I nodded slightly because I'm still tired, my husband gave me our child so gently that you could think she would break like a glass at any time.

She opened her eyes and I knew she had my hair otherwise she did everything from Bakugou "Hello Mei."

#bnha #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha katsuki x reader #bnha x y/n #fanfic #katsuki bakugo fanart #katsukibakugou #mha bakugou #mha fanfiction #oneshot #x reader

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frauleinsmaria · 5 years

Text

Signed, Sealed, Delivered {1/1}

Summary: Emma is frustrated with where she's at in life, and even more frustrated with her job as a retail manager. Killian is the UPS driver who starts making deliveries at her workplace. And maybe, somehow, their brief interactions every week mean more to each other than they ever expected.

Rated T, includes references to sexual misconduct.

A/N: Kicking off @csseptembersunshine with this story I’ve been sitting on for a while! Just for clarification, the premise was based on my job as a retail manager, and the sleazy UPS driver I have to deal with on a regular basis. So, of course, I had to write a fic where Emma is me but instead gets the hot, polite driver me and my coworkers have always wanted. I know it’s a little weird, but I am pretty proud of the end result, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Major thanks to @thejollyroger-writer and @scientificapricot for providing beta duties, @shireness-says for the title and the store name (I’m letting you name everything for me now), and @let-it-raines for bringing up the “frost yourself” thing and inspiring the rom-com element. You’re all fantastic humans, and I appreciate you immensely.

Also on AO3

-/-

Tuesdays were the worst. That’s how everyone seemed to feel about Mondays, but Emma didn’t mind those quite so much. After getting her one guaranteed day off every week on Sunday, it was a bit easier to come into work the next morning, semi-well rested and ready for a new week.

The same couldn’t be said for Tuesdays, though. Retail was far from booming at the first of the week (which Emma understood; shopping wasn’t exactly high on her list of priorities until the weekend.) Any project Elsa or Anna gave her to work on was usually simple and completed within a relatively short amount of time. So that often left her with far too much time with nothing to do but refold the same shirts, wipe down the same counters, and scroll through the same posts on her Instagram feed while waiting for business to come or her shift to end.

Emma was grateful for her job at Crystalline. She’d been looking for a new job for almost six months when Mary Margaret suggested she reach out to the Frost sisters to ask if they needed an additional cashier at their boutique during the previous holiday season. And after working there for three months, Elsa and Anna offered her a promotion to become their assistant manager. She hadn’t hesitated before accepting. Not only would the position come with a small raise, but also additional responsibilities to help her feel like she had a purpose in a season of life that seemed so monotonous and uncertain.

Turns out, though, there weren’t really a lot of added responsibilities she didn’t already have as a cashier. Sure, she had a key to the store and acted as the manager on duty for a few hours every day before or after Elsa and Anna’s shifts. And she could tell one of the part-time employees to do something and be taken a bit more seriously. Sometimes. But unless it was around a holiday or a weekend that brought in a significant amount of business, Emma found herself spending most of the day trying to conceal her boredom. The store was a typical boutique that sold mostly women’s clothes, shoes, and accessories, meaning there were significantly less tasks and responsibilities than she’d have being a manager at a corporate store.

The store had been open for less than an hour, and she was on her third cup of her coffee and hot cocoa mix since arriving earlier to open. It was only she and Jasmine working this morning, since Anna had taken the day off to celebrate her husband’s birthday with him, and Elsa didn’t come in until after lunch since she would be closing tonight.

Emma took her thermos to the front of the store and propped herself up against a rack of overpriced shirts. (They sold few things in Crystalline that she could afford at full price. Thank goodness for her employee discount at least.) It was her typical method of trying to look like an attentive supervisor when she was too tired to walk around or even stand straight up. No one had yet to call her out on it, which she took as a sign she was doing something right.

Jasmine stood in the middle of the sales floor by the cash registers, dusting and wiping down every surface regardless of whether it actually needed to be done. Emma hadn’t had the heart to tell her she was saving that as part of her personal list of things to do to keep her preoccupied later when Jasmine left for the day. But they’d had a grand total of two customers since opening, a pair of older ladies who looked around for approximately thirty seconds before leaving. She couldn’t blame Jasmine for wanting to stay busy.

While Jasmine dusted the jewelry counters, Emma sipped her now lukewarm drink and composed a mental list of everything that needed to be taken care of after work. A trip to the grocery store was unavoidable; she’d put it off for too long now and had been stuck with peanut butter crackers for breakfast as a result. The clothes she’d washed and dried the day before needed to be folded and put away. And she needed to write. Even if it was only a few hundred words based off of a random prompt she found online. Something was better than nothing, and nothing was all she’d done lately when it came to any of her stories.

“Five hundred words,” she muttered to herself. “You just write five hundred words tonight, and you can start the new season of Queer Eye.” Priorities. Some days she had to take motivation wherever she could find it.

The next half hour or so elapsed with little activity other than overhearing Leroy yell at Deputy Humbert across the street over what sounded like a parking ticket. It was mid July, and Emma could make out the sweat beading on Leroy’s brow if she concentrated enough. (At least she did have the bonus of being in an air conditioned space all day.)

To be fair, he knew damn well not to park his truck in front of a fire hydrant. Part of Emma couldn’t help but feel for Graham as Leroy hurled insults at him, even though thinking about him came with an inevitable feeling of discomfort now. The two of them had gone out a handful of times a few months prior. Each date had been a bit worse than the last as she came to realize she had zero romantic interest whatsoever for Graham, but hadn’t known how to say as much without hurting him. The moment she came clean was incredibly awkward, and he had avoided her ever since, something easier said than done in a small town. It didn’t help that she was close friends with the sheriff and his wife, meaning Graham was often mentioned when David shared recent stories about work at their weekly dinners together.

Her attention was taken away from Leroy and Graham with the arrival of the UPS truck outside. Emma sat her coffee to the side and went to prop open the door for the driver, more than familiar with this routine after her seven months on the job. They received deliveries several times a week, packages containing everything from new merchandise to supplies and equipment for the store. The days on which these deliveries happened varied by the order date and shipping location, but they almost always took place later in the morning following any drop-offs to Dark Star pharmacy and Storybrooke’s Animal Shelter up the road.

Emma heard the truck’s back door open as she used her foot to set up the door stopper. She hoped today’s drop off would be quick. Over the past few months, deliveries had been made by the same man — Walsh, she thought she remembered hearing — who went out of his way to hit on her, calling her “baby” and “sweetheart” and sticking around to make uncomfortable conversation that she wanted no part in.

She’d come close to calling him out for it several times. Telling him “Ms. Swan is just fine, thank you,” or that she needed to get back to work. But it was the fact that she was working that always stopped her. There were a number of ways he could react to being told off. She had learned the hard way how badly men could react if their advances were rejected. Emma was hesitant to cause a scene in front of customers, despite knowing Elsa and Anna would take her side should anything happen. The joys of being a woman in retail.

Stepping back from the door, she glanced up to see the man pushing a hand truck stacked with boxes in her direction. The reluctant “Good morning” she’d prepared for Walsh died on her lips as she took him in. Because this wasn’t Walsh.

The man wearing the standard brown button up and matching pants had never made a delivery to the store, at least not during one of her shifts. She would have remembered his head of dark, messy hair and blue eyes that met her own as he reached the store’s entrance.

“Good morning, lass.”

Of course he would be English to boot. It was almost unfair.

“Morning,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“This is my first run in this part of town, but I do believe I’m at the right place.”

“If it’s 723G Greene Street, then it’s ours.” She noticed the familiar logo printed on the side of the cardboard boxes. “Unless there’s another clothing store I don’t know about nearby that also sells Steve Madden.” This must have been the new sneakers Elsa mentioned ordering a few weeks earlier.

“Aye. What I saw of the pharmacy and the animal shelter makes me think anything here wouldn’t fit well.” He gestured around the storefront. “Where would you like these?”

Emma stepped back and nodded to an open space at the window. “Here’s fine. We’ll probably need to make some room in the back office before they’ll fit with the rest of the new inventory.”

It was difficult not to stare while he stacked the boxes up where she’d indicated, the fitted uniform showing off the taut muscles in his arms and shoulders. (The pants suited him too. Not that she’d admit to paying attention.) When he’d finished, he unclipped a device from his belt and offered it to her. She’d done this enough times to know how it worked, quickly using the attached pen to scribble her last name on the blank line before handing it back.

“Thank you, Miss,” he glanced down at what she’d written, “Swan.” He smiled back up at Emma. “Quite the unique surname.”

She didn’t respond, only smiled politely as he clipped the device back to his belt and turned with the hand truck in the direction of the open door. It was better than, Thanks, I chose it myself, which was all she could think of to say. Not the best can of worms to open with a stranger.

He paused just before stepping out the door and turned back to Emma. “Perhaps I’ll be seeing you again? For future deliveries, I mean,” he added when her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Oh. Yeah. Maybe.” Such a smooth talker she was.

The man gave her a quick nod before exiting the store, a long list of delivery stops probably awaiting him. Emma watched from the window as he climbed back into his truck and drove off, disappearing around the corner.

Part of her mind was preoccupied with the fact that she’d never seen a UPS truck with its doors closed before. Shouldn’t that be a safety hazard? It was more than likely time efficient for deliveries, but she wasn’t sure if there was a point in saving time if your life was going to be threatened in the process. Storybrooke had its own breed of crazy drivers too.

The other part hoped the driver was right about seeing her again.

Emma thought about him more than she would like to admit over the next few days. The lilt of his accent, the lines around his eyes that crinkled when he’d smiled at her. She felt more than a little ridiculous for noticing such specific details after a single encounter lasting all of five minutes. If only she could have that level of concentration when it came to writing. She’d gone home that night and tried to muster up a few hundred words of something, anything. Instead she had stared at the blank screen in front of her and questioned if there was even any point.

Regardless, it was a poor decision to even give him more thought. She reminded herself of this as she went through her usual routine to open Crystalline again on Friday morning. The only information she had on the man was what he did for a living, and a vague idea of where he was from if the accent was anything to go by. For all she knew, he lived a nice, white-picket fence life with a partner, a few kids, and maybe a dog.

(He looked like a dog person. Emma believed that was something you could easily determine.)

And yet her pulse did something she refused to acknowledge when he entered the store around the same time that he’d come on Tuesday. There were several packages today, at least four or five stacked on the hand truck he pulled in behind him.

Emma approached him as he stacked the boxes at the normal spot by the window. “So you did make it back after all.”

He glanced up and her and smiled. “Indeed. It appears from the looks of it that this area is going to be part of my regular route for the time being. I hope that’s alright with you,” he added, one eyebrow inching toward his hairline. There was a hint of teasing in his remark, although it seemed to be genuine too.

It was more than alright with her eyes. Her nervous system, maybe not so much. “I think we can manage that. If you can deal with all this excitement.” She gestured to the empty store. He was the first person to enter that day besides Elsa and herself an hour earlier.

The smile on his face remained, thankfully. It would have been awkward had he not understood her sarcasm; that happened with Walsh a few times. “Sounds tricky. But I do love a challenge.”

Emma struggled with a response but came up short. If only he knew how many challenges she could present.

“Crystalline, eh?” he asked, glancing around the store. “Interesting choice. It means having the structure and form of a crystal, right?”

Was he a walking dictionary or something? “Uh, yeah, I think so. The owners’ last name is Frost, and they wanted to name the store something that went with it, so, like, ice crystals.”

“I see. It’s certainly an easy name for me to remember.”

“When Elsa first hired me, I made the joke that they should have gone with Frost Yourself since we sell jewelry, but she didn’t get the reference until I showed her a clip from the movie.”

“How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?” he answered, as if on cue.

It seemed this man was full of surprises. “That’s the one.” What were the chances that she’d come across a guy who shared her love for mediocre rom coms from the early 2000s? She’d tried to watch Love Actually with Graham once; he’d yawned the whole time.

A moment of silence passed between them. Emma looked down at the device she still held and realized he was waiting for her to sign for the delivery. Of course he wasn’t standing there to make idle conversation, he had a job to get back to. Like the last time, she quickly signed on the screen and returned the device to him.

“Have a nice day, Miss Swan.”

“You too, um—” she paused, not wanting to call him “UPS guy” to his face.

“Killian Jones.” She took his hand when he offered it. But instead of shaking hers, he briefly brought it to his lips.

Emma took a sharp intake of breath that she hoped wasn’t audible. The only time she’d ever seen a man kiss a woman’s hand was in one of those period movies Mary Margaret made her watch every now and then.

But she didn’t necessarily mind it. Maybe more men should take notes from their predecessors. Or rather, the actors playing them. Technicalities.

“Right. You too. Have a nice day, that is.”

He flashed her another smile before leaving. Emma watched him return to his truck, not hearing the footsteps coming up behind her.

“I didn’t realize we were getting so friendly with the new UPS driver.”

She jumped and turned to see Elsa, who sported a knowing grin. “Clearly that paperwork didn’t take as long to get through as you’d expected.”

“No, and I’m glad,” said Elsa. “Otherwise I would have missed your little interaction just now.”

“What was there to miss? He just dropped off a few packages, one of which I hope is wrapping paper refills. Regina wasn’t exactly nice a few days ago when I explained that we only had two options for her to choose from, and neither were red.”

“She should just be grateful she got it wrapped for free. Beggars can’t be choosers. But back to my point,” Elsa continued. “He kissed your hand, and you looked like you wanted to devour him.”

Oh no. “Did I really?”

“I don’t blame you; he’s gorgeous. Although I can’t exactly allow said devouring to take place on the sales floor, even though it would probably add some much needed excitement to our day.”

“Ha ha.” She hope Elsa wouldn’t notice her cheeks reddening; it would only make the teasing worse. And she had been one of the few people who never tried to set Emma up with someone or meddle in her love life. “Don’t even get started with me about Killian, though. He’s just our UPS driver. I’ll probably see him for a collective five minutes a week max.”

“If you say so. But if you have a chance at any time during those five minutes, can you find out if he has a brother?”

Anna’s head popped up from behind the shoe fixture she’d been reorganizing. “Who has a brother? Is he cute?”

“You’re married,” Emma and Elsa reminded her in unison.

Anna rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a nice face. I’ll make it a point to be lurking the next time I see him come by.”

Despite Elsa’s insistence, the chances of finding out anything else about Killian during his deliveries were minimal. Something told Emma it wasn’t a great idea to play twenty questions while he was trying to unload packages.

At least she had a name to put with the face now. A very nice face (thanks, Anna) that she thought about often that night while she ate pretzels and watched Pride & Prejudice without any prompting from Mary Margaret. She even added a few paragraphs to one of her old short story drafts afterward. Maybe something was changing.

But even if the perceptions she’d inadvertently made were inaccurate, even if she knew more about him (or even knew him well), that didn’t mean getting to know him more than necessary was the best idea for either of them. She already received enough pity or disdain — sometimes both —from everyone else in Storybrooke. The girl who moved back home after a horrendous breakup no one knew the details of. The unsuccessful college student who’d dropped out her junior year to find herself working retail to keep a roof over her head. If only they knew.

So, yes, it was better to keep her distance. No matter what her pulse did when she saw him approaching. Or when he’d kissed her hand. Distance was best for everyone.

But distance was tricky to maintain when someone frequently came to the place where she spent most of her time. Killian made deliveries twice the following week, and three times during the one after. (Thankfully, those deliveries always happened while Elsa and Anna were busy elsewhere.) Each of their additional encounters were similar to the first, brief but with enough friendly conversation that only made her want to know more about him: What made him start driving with UPS? When had he moved to America and why? What did he like to binge watch on Netflix? Was he single?

That last question wasn’t one Emma truly needed answered. She was just curious. They were getting somewhat friendly, and friends knew these things about each other. Didn’t they?

Regardless, something about Killian Jones captivated her in a way she couldn’t explain. And she wasn't sure just how to feel about it.

As summer ended, the new fall merchandise quickly began arriving. Their tank tops and sandals were replaced with sweaters and boots Killian brought in, not to mention beanies, scarves, and jackets Emma knew she would take advantage of once the temperature dropped. On one of the first cool mornings, Killian made his delivery wearing a standard UPS jacket over his regular uniform. How he still managed to make the bulky brown option look good was something she couldn’t understand.

The two of them continued to make casual conversation when he came by, often on a number of different topics depending on the day. There was one Wednesday morning she’d worn a blush colored blouse and he made the comment that he was glad she’d remembered to wear pink. And another day when something he said reminded her of that one quote from Legally Blonde. It seemed he shared her affinity for 2000s rom coms after all. She would have to ask him about that sometime when she wasn’t overthinking every one of their interactions.

One of the biggest downfalls to retail was working almost every weekend. Emma seldom, if ever, had a Friday night or Saturday free without requesting to be off several weeks in advance. She didn’t always mind. It wasn’t as if she had a long list of prospective plans to keep her busy. And even when she did have to work, her friends occasionally talked her into doing something after the store closed, regardless of how exhausted she was or how much she’d be kicking herself for it in the morning.

Her free Saturday in October just so happened to be the weekend of Ruby’s thirtieth birthday. Her friend typically liked to do something big for the day, like a trip down to Boston or New York. This year, however, Ruby had surprised everyone by asking that they meet up at The Rabbit Hole. Her and Mulan’s wedding was the next Sunday, and they both were too swamped with the last of the wedding planning for her to feel up to doing more.

Emma found herself sitting between Mulan and Belle at the large table they’d chosen in the middle of the bar, sipping at her drink as her friends teased Ruby about being another year older.

“You do realize you’re two years older than she is, don’t you?” she reminded David after he made a joke about people in their thirties, which also should have applied to him.

He shrugged. “That’s beside the point. It’s not my birthday.”

“No. But it will be in three months, which means I’m gonna start preparing all kinds of old man jokes for you now.”

“Why do I have the feeling my wife is going to join you on that?”

“Because I most definitely am,” Mary Margaret piped up from her seat on his other side.

As much as she preferred staying home in front of the TV on her nights off, Emma had to admit it was nice getting to go out and have fun without waking up early for work the next morning. Most of the people who’d shown up to celebrate Ruby were ones she hadn’t seen in far too long.

It was hard to ignore how Graham insisted on keeping his distance from her, sitting at the far end of the table and looking away if she merely glanced in his general direction. But if that was how he chose to act, then fine. She’d done her best to break things off as amicably as possible; it wasn’t her fault he’d chosen to become so bitter.

They’d been at the bar a little over an hour when two men entered the room. The one in front, blue eyed with dark curly hair, glanced over at their table, a look of recognition in his eyes when he caught sight of David. Her friend waved him over, and it was only when he started approaching that Emma got a look at the person he’d arrived with.

“Killian?”

He did a double take when he saw her, eyes widening before his lips parted into a wide grin. “Hello, Swan.”

The other man paused in the middle of the conversation he’d just started with David and looked between the two of them. “Little brother, you two know each other?”

Emma could see the resemblance now that the relationship was clarified: Killian and his brother didn’t look identical by any means, but they had they same defined cheekbones and blue eyes, although Killian’s were still bluer somehow, probably a result of the dark blue button down shirt he wore.

(It was a bit odd to see him in something besides his standard brown uniform. Not that she was complaining. Not at all.)

“Liam, you ought to know by now that there are few people in town I haven't made deliveries to at some point or another. Emma works at Crystalline.”

“The one the Frost sisters own?” It was hard to miss the way the man — Liam, she supposed — perked up at the mention of her bosses.

“Yes, that’s the one Elsa owns, since I know that’s what you were really asking.”

Well, this was interesting. Elsa had no idea that she was onto something when she’d joked about Killian having a brother.

She turned back to David and Liam. “So, how do you two know each other?”

“Liam’s daughter is in Leo’s class at school,” David explained. “I hear stories about Harper every day. He loves her.”

“Bloody hell, don’t tell me that! I thought I had at least another decade before she and I would have to discuss boys.”

The two of them continued to chat about their children while Emma became fixated on Killian again. She wanted to say something to him, but what? That it was nice to see him outside of her workplace? She hated forced small talk and didn’t want to trap either of them in an awkward conversation.

She went back to what David had just said about Liam having a daughter, and the comments he and Killian had made that hinted he was interested in Elsa. A quick glance at his left hand showed that he wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean much. Could she broach the subject to Killian without appearing to cross a line? Elsa may be her boss, but Emma also considered her a friend. Maybe she was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, but she’d want someone to do the same for her and spot any potential red flags.

Emma’s train of thought was broken by Mulan getting up and walking over to the jukebox. Soon, the opening notes of “Single Ladies” played from the speakers, and Mulan came back over to drag Ruby to dance.

Emma glanced back at Killian. He looked somewhat shy standing there alone, one hand in the front pocket of his jeans and the other scratching behind his ear. Liam had clearly abandoned him for a conversation with David, probably discussing Leo’s intentions with his daughter.

“You can have a seat if you want,” she told him, nodding to the now empty seat beside her. “Something tells me the lovebirds won’t be coming back any time soon.”

“Something tells me you’re right. I’d hate to be a bother though,” he added, seeming to notice the space (or lack thereof) between the now empty seat and her own.

“No bother. Plus, the bar stools here are ridiculously uncomfortable.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

It wasn’t until he sat down beside her that Emma was aware of just how tightly the chairs had been packed around their small table. Killian’s right thigh and shoulder were nearly pressed against her own. It normally would not have been a situation she’d object to, but she now realized how much personal space she was sharing with an attractive man she barely knew (and had embarrassed herself in front of on at least one occasion.)

“I can’t get over the irony of Mulan choosing a song that basically celebrates being single to dance with her fiancee to,” Emma blurted out when it occurred to her. “And a few weeks before their wedding at that.”

“Something tells me she’s too inebriated to care considering they’ve made their own dance floor in a bar that doesn’t actually have one.”

“Touche.”

They both laughed. Maybe making conversation with him outside of work was easier than she’d assumed.

“I take it you have the night off?” he asked. “Not to sound intrusive; I just noticed the list of store hours on one of my last deliveries.”

“I do. Saturday’s off are few and far between for me, so I try to make the most of them. Tonight, that’s celebrating my friend’s birthday even though she’s clearly done paying attention to any of us.” They both glanced back over at Mulan and Ruby, who had started slow dancing in the middle of the room. Emma wouldn’t be surprised if they made an excuse to leave soon, Ruby’s birthday celebration be damned.

“I understand about your weekends,” said Killian. “I’m lucky enough to have a fairly regular work schedule, but Liam is an ER nurse on top of being a single father, so his free time is quite limited. He’s great at his job and an even better dad, but I like to make sure he gets to go out and do something for his own enjoyment every now and then.”

His comment about Liam being single cleared her earlier suspicion. She didn’t feel comfortable asking what had happened to his niece’s mother, so they discussed the child herself instead. Emma learned that Harper was four years old and already a spitfire, keeping both Liam and Killian on their toes at any given moment. She found out that the two of them had moved from England to the States as teenagers, where Liam went to nursing school and Killian enlisted in the Navy.

“How long have you been driving?”

“About two years. I did some truck driving in the Navy and was able to get my CDL while I was still enlisted. It wasn’t my dream career field by any means, but it paid decently, not to mention it wouldn’t keep me confined to the same cubicle or office all week long. I applied at UPS because I didn’t like the idea of being gone for days at a time on a regular basis. This way, I get most weekends and holidays off, and have an idea of what time I’ll arrive home every night.”

“Seems like you’ve got a decent arrangement there then.”

“Aye. I like having a consistent schedule most of the time. The driving helps clear my head when I need it to.” He paused and Emma saw what looked like a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “But enough about me. I’ve gathered next to nothing about you so far. Well, other than the fact that I interrupt your work day at least twice per week, sometimes more, but I don’t think that counts.”

He clearly didn’t want to discuss whatever it was driving helped clear his head from. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. If I’m being honest, your ‘interruptions’ are a nice, albeit brief, distraction from the monotony that just causes me to question what I’m doing there.”

The frown reappeared. “You don’t like your job?”

“I wouldn’t say I dislike it. Elsa and Anna are great. It’s nice knowing I get the same day off every week. And I save forty-two percent on my shoes.”

“But?”

She shrugged. “I mean, that’s about it. Nothing ever happens. It’s not that we don’t get business or anything, but it’s not the kind of store people feel the need to come into on a regular basis, like Target or something. I spend most of my shift being bored. Which really just gives me more time to think about where I’m at in life — more like where I’m not at in life — and how unfulfilled I am with, well, everything.”

She hadn’t expected to open that can of worms tonight, but once she started, it was hard to hold back everything she’d been keeping to herself for months now.

“I take it retail wasn’t your first choice when it came to finding a career?”

“Far from it.” She laughed dryly. “I was a creative writing major in college. So many people in Storybrooke gave me hell about it, said I’d never be able to do anything with my degree. But I didn’t care. I just loved writing and knew that’s what I wanted to do with my life. Until my junior year anyway.”

“What happened then?”

“I took an upper level Writing Fiction course during the fall semester. I was really excited about it because the professor was a fairly successful author, and I’d always had a conflict with another class before that kept me from taking anything with him. To make a long story short, the class was great at first. I got along well with the professor, and he seemed to like the projects I turned in for him. He liked my boyfriend’s projects even more.”

She forced down the lump forming in her throat and took a quick sip of her beer. Talking about Neal became a bit less difficult over time, but that didn’t mean it was easy either. “He was a writing student too. We met sophomore year in an intro creative writing course. I fell for him right away despite all the warning signs: he cut class a lot, was disrespectful to me — to all women, for that matter — and thought he could get away with anything because his dad was loaded. But, despite all this, he told me he loved me. And I fell for it.

“Anyway, back to the class we had together. I noticed every now and then that the professor would make a comment or say something overly friendly that felt a lot like flirting. I never brought it up with Neal outside of class since I thought he’d tell me I was overreacting.” Emma now saw the fact that she thought that way about him should have been a red flag in itself. “So, the end of the semester comes around. Our final was to write a short story. We turned them in to him before classes ended and then were supposed to come by his office during finals week to pick them up to see our grade and hear any comments he had for us.”

She paused to take a long sip of her drink. She had told this story a handful of times since it happened, but the next part never got much easier to share. “I went by as soon as his office hours started. I had worked really hard on the story I submitted — like, spent weeks planning and pulled several all-nighters to write hard. Anyway, I get to his office and he tells me to take a seat. I figured he wanted to talk to me about the story. And he did...for a few minutes anyway.”

Killian listened as she told him about the professor quickly changing the subject and talking instead about how much he'd enjoyed having Emma as part of his class. How he'd enjoyed it so much that he came over and put a hand on her knee while making the comment that he thought he would enjoy having her in other environments too. “I bolted. I was so scared of what he might do; I never even found out what my grade was. Not that it really mattered in retrospect.”

“Bloody wanker,” Killian muttered. “I’m glad you got away from him when you did. What happened after that?”

“I went to Neal. I ran straight to his apartment and told him everything, thinking he would at least try to, y’know, help me or be supportive or something.” Emma shook her head and laughed dryly. To think she was naive enough to think he’d react differently than he actually did. “He accused me of making it all up. He said I was jealous that he and the professor got on so well, and that I came up with a story to have attention on me instead. To top it all off, he said I was a shitty writer who would never amount to anything outside of school.”

There was a sour expression on Killian’s face. “Please tell me you broke up with him.”

“I did.” She sighed and smiled sadly to herself. “The damage was done though. I withdrew from school and left the city as soon as I could. I came back to Storybrooke and had intended to only stay for a few months and then reapply somewhere else, but I never got around to it for one reason or another.” One reason being the fear of being stuck with another sleazy professor. Another being how she’d constantly questioned her potential as a writer since those comments from Neal. She wasn’t sure she could risk the time, energy, and funds required to go back to school if it was all just going to crash and burn for her in the end. It was also why making progress on any story had felt like pulling teeth ever since.

She hated that he and his words still got to her like they did almost eight years later.

“I’m sorry you were treated so terribly in both circumstances. Truly.” Something about the way his eyes softened as she’d spoken made her believe he wasn’t just speaking out of pity. It seemed that he genuinely cared. “And perhaps I’m overstepping here since I’m simply the man who makes deliveries to your workplace, but from what I’ve gathered over the past few weeks, you appear to be a strong, compassionate, and capable woman who can do anything she sets her mind to. Whether it be venturing into another career field or going back to school, I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s best for you and do it well.”

Emma stared at him for a moment, too dumbfounded to speak. She had just poured her heart out to a man who still felt like little more than an acquaintance. And yet he wasn’t judging her, criticizing her, or even looking at her like she’d lost her mind, and she would have normally expected as much. But Killian seemed to get it: her past and her fears that the future would be no different.

She found herself thinking that maybe Killian Jones had come to understand her more during their first lengthy conversation than anyone else had in years.

The idea didn’t scare her nearly as much as it once would have.

As fate would have it, Killian came by Crystalline with a delivery first thing the following Monday morning. She’d spent most of the weekend both taking his words to heart and wondering if he’d act differently after their conversation. But, to her relief, he entered the store with the same smile on his face she’d become used to seeing with his arrival.

“Good morning, Swan.”

“Morning. What have you got for us today?” There were three or four boxes stacked on his hand truck.

“Oh, this is just the first load. There’s at least seven more where those came from.”

Emma quickly helped him move the boxes to their normal waiting place by the door while he went to retrieve the rest of their packages. She knew the rest of their winter merchandise for the holidays was supposed to arrive soon, but she hadn’t expected so much of it to come at once. She, Elsa, and Anna were going to have a whole lot of fun sorting it out over the next few days.

She stood there feeling somewhat awkward as he finished unloading, wanting to say something to him about the other night at the bar, but not knowing exactly what. She was still contemplating it when she signed for the delivery. “What do you call this thing, anyway?” she asked. “I’ve just been calling it ‘UPS device thing’ in my head, but I’m sure there’s a technical term for it.”

Killian chuckled. “It’s called a diad. Stands for Delivery Information Acquisition Device — so you weren’t too far off.”

“Huh. Maybe I should come work with you then, considering I already know so much about how things work.”

“I’d certainly prefer you to some of the ride alongs I’ve had before. Remind me to tell you about what happened on Will Scarlet’s first day sometime.”

“Will do,” she confirmed, handing the device — diad — back to Killian. He clipped it back to his belt and was turning to leave when she spoke up. “Killian?”

“Yes, love?”

“Are we friends? Sorry,” she continued when his eyebrow shot up to his hairline. “It’s just that we see each other pretty regularly and I actually enjoy our conversations, and you let me spill my guts to you Saturday night without judging me and that seems like something a friend would do. But for all I know, you might not even want to be my friend. Which makes this really awkward and—”

“Hey,” he interrupted. “I would like nothing more than to be friends with you, Swan. Truthfully, I’ve thought of you as a friend for some time now. And it’s nice — no one else I know has the same penchant for cocoa and romantic comedies.”

“I’m one of a kind, I guess.”

“That you are.”

“Will I see you at the wedding this weekend?”

“Aye. Liam and I will both be attending, him more so not to let Ruby down.” Another fact Emma had learned at the bar was that Liam and Ruby were classmates in nursing school and had remained friends since. “Weddings haven’t exactly been one of his favorite social events since Harper’s mother passed.”

Emma’s heart sank. She’d never been married, but could only imagine what it felt like to attend an event where people celebrated the very thing you’d lost. It may have stung when Neal turned his back on her, but she knew it had to be worse when someone was taken away unexpectedly, leaving you to wonder how much more time you could have had together.

“I get that,” she told Killian. “He’s really lucky to have you around, though.”

The responding smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes. He glanced back to the stack of boxes he’d brought instead. “Yes, well. If that’s the last of it, I’m afraid I have to keep going. Goodbye, Swan.”

Emma stood there frozen and perplexed as she watched him go. Had something she said about him or Liam that struck a nerve? The thought nagged at her over the next few days, causing her to wonder if she’d unknowingly caused some kind of problem just minutes after confirming their friendship.

But when he arrived for their next delivery on Thursday morning, he was himself, charming and witty as ever. Emma was glad to see him act as if nothing had changed, but she knew there was much left to learn about Killian Jones.

Ruby and Mulan’s wedding took place on Sunday afternoon in the yard behind their house. The space had been adorned with fall decor in various shades of orange, yellow, and of course, Ruby’s signature red. The ceremony itself was simple, no wedding party or long introduction from the officiant. But the vows were touching and heartfelt. Emma found herself wiping her eyes more than once at both women’s words, and then again when they were pronounced as each other’s wives.

The reception that followed the ceremony, however, was anything but simple. There was a great deal of food, music, and alcohol, not unlike the celebration they’d had for Ruby’s birthday the weekend before. There was, however, a makeshift dance floor set up in the yard, where the brides once again ignored everyone else while they alternated between slow dancing and spinning each other around in circles. (Funny enough, no one was playing “Single Ladies” this time.)

Emma sat at one of the round tables placed around the dance floor, eating what may or may not have been her second slice of wedding cake while she and her girl friends chatted about a handful of different things: the recipe Mary Margaret had recently found for chocolate coconut brownies, what they’d each been watching on Netflix, and the town’s upcoming fall festival.

“Speaking of approaching events, I do believe someone has a birthday soon,” said Belle, glancing toward Emma, a warm smile on her face.

She wasn’t sure whether to smile back or sigh in defeat. Her birthday was on Wednesday, but it wasn’t something she enjoyed celebrating nearly as much as someone like Ruby or her other friends. And everyone knew this, although their knowledge on the reason why was minimal.

What was the point in celebrating a day that only reminded her of what she didn’t have? Because, in spite of any gifts or attention her friends might try to shower her with, she was never able to focus on anything but what the day signified and the questions she may never have answers to. The main one being why was she abandoned outside of Storybrooke just after (if not on) the day in question.

She forced down the lump quickly forming in her throat. Her friends’ wedding was the last place she wanted to reopen those old wounds. “I need more punch!” she announced, getting to her feet. “Anyone else?” Not waiting to hear anyone’s answers, she took her mostly full cup to the punch bowl at a table on the other side of the yard.

Emma topped off her drink and grabbed a handful of crackers she didn’t actually want just to appear preoccupied. She didn’t feel up for going back to her seat just yet.

Then it hit her: she had yet to come across Killian or his brother. Hadn’t he said they were coming?

A hand tapped Emma’s shoulder just as she began looking through the crowd for a familiar face. She turned to see bright blue eyes and that smile she’d become so partial to. “Hello, Swan.”

All of the tension seemed to leave her when he said her name. “Hey, Killian.” He wore a well-fitting navy suit with a crisp white shirt. How he kept finding things to wear that made his eyes look even more blue was lost to her. “Nice ceremony, huh?”

“Aye. I believe that was the most enthusiastic kiss I’ve ever witnessed at a wedding.”

“This is Ruby we’re talking about. There was little chance of her keeping things PG, wedding or not.”

“A valid point.”

He looked over to her friends’ table where she’d been sitting earlier. “I hope I’m not keeping you from your friends. I’d been looking for you and wanted to speak while I had a moment.”

“No, you’re not. I was honestly trying to avoid them. Let’s just say they’d brought up a subject I wasn’t up for discussing today,” she continued at his questioning look‍.

“That’s certainly understandable. In that case, I’m willing to distract you for as long as you may need it.”

“Okay, weird question. Your brother’s here, right?”

“He is. Although I’m not quite sure why you think that’s an odd thing to ask.”

“Well, that’s what I was getting to. I got the idea at The Rabbit Hole last week that he has a thing for Elsa?”

“That’s an understatement. Liam has been absolutely smitten since he was introduced to her at the Miner’s Day celebration back in the spring. But I don’t believe he’s made much of an effort to get to know her. He’s never come out and said as much to me, but thanks to a few bad experiences he’s had with dating over the past few years, it seems he thinks that she wouldn’t be interested since he has a child.’

She wasn’t sure just how to respond to that, mostly because she understood. The more a person had lost and been hurt, the harder it became to open your heart back up to something (or, in this case, someone) new again. And, truly, she didn’t know how Elsa would feel about potentially dating a single father. But she did know that both she and Liam deserved to be happy.

“I obviously can't speak for Elsa or her feelings, but I can put in a good word for Liam if you don't think he'd mind me intervening.”

(Had she gone and turned into Mary Margaret?)

Killian's answering smile made her stomach swoop in a way that had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol in the punch. He was just unfairly attractive and she liked seeing him happy, that was all. “I think he'd appreciate that quite a bit. And even if he did mind, I'm sure he wouldn't anymore if it works in his favor.”

She returned to her table a moment later, this time taking the empty chair next to Elsa rather than the one she'd been sitting in before. “Hey. So, I have a question.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“You remember that day when you saw Killian for the first time and you made that comment about him having a brother?”

Elsa glanced at her and raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“Well, you're in luck. He does have an older brother, Liam. Apparently you met him at the Miner’s Day festival.”

“Wait, that Liam? He's Killian’s brother?”

“So you remember him?”

“Yes, I do. I just remember thinking there had to be some kind of catch for him to be so good looking, a wife or a criminal past or something.”

“There's no criminal past that I know of, and no wife. But he is a widower and a dad to a little girl. Would you be okay with that?”

Elsa pursed her lips. “It's not something I've given much thought to. I don't think I've ever dated someone with a kid before. But if he’s a good guy, and a good dad to his daughter, I see no reason to object.”

“I was hoping you’d say something like that.” She looked back over to where she’d left Killian at the punch bowl, where he now stood talking to Liam. Smiling at Elsa, she nodded in their direction. “He’s over there with Killian now if you want an excuse to go get another drink. You kind of know Killian already from the store, and something tells me it won’t be hard for you to get introduced.”

Her smile grew as Elsa’s face lit up. “I am getting thirsty. If you’ll excuse me.” She stood and went over to the brothers, not even remembering to take her cup with her.

Emma watched as she spoke to Killian first, then turned to Liam, obviously feigning ignorance. Killian’s gestures indicated he was making introductions between the two of them. She couldn’t see Liam’s face since his back was turned to her, but Killian shot her a wink that said all she needed to know.

She eagerly anticipated hearing details about the meeting from Elsa at work the next day, not wanting to ask intrusive questions, but hoping her boss would choose to bring it up. All she mentioned was that Liam was “just as charming as his brother” and had made a comment about hoping he’d see her at the town’s fall festival the night before Halloween. But there was color to her cheeks and a gleam in her eye when she spoke of it.

Killian’s first delivery of the week happened on Wednesday, the day Emma turned twenty-eight. Per her request, Elsa and Anna had kept the surprises minimal, although there was a cupcake in the break room she looked forward to eating on her lunch break. Chocolate was a hard thing to object, even if she objected everything else about the day in question.

Seeing the familiar truck turn the corner, Emma went to open the front door and wait for Killian as she usually did. Was it weird for her to do that? She was just trying to make his delivery easier. And maybe she looked forward to seeing him. Because they were friends.

It was odd not to see him pulling in a hand truck, but instead carrying a single package. “Good morning, love.”

“Hey. Is that all today?”

“Aye. Don’t be alarmed, though. I’m sure I’ll have at least a dozen for you next time.”

“You’re probably right.” She took the package from him, looking for a name on the return address. It was just boring office supplies.

Checking to make sure Elsa wasn’t out on the floor, she asked “Has Liam said anything about Sunday? My boss is being minimal with the details.”

Killian barked out a laugh. “My brother has been anything but minimal. I haven’t heard him speak of anything else since. I’d give him hell about it if I wasn’t so glad to see him happy, even if they’ve only had one real conversation together.”

“Sometimes one conversation might be all it takes.”

It was when she was signing her name on the diad (and feeling proud of herself for remembering it’s actual name) that the idea came to her. “Killian? Are you doing anything tonight?”

He considered it for a moment. “Nothing besides going home after my shift and finding something on TV to entertain me for a bit. Why do you ask?”

“Would you maybe want to come over and watch a movie? As friends,” she quickly added, hoping he wouldn’t detect any desperation in her voice. “I was going to order pizza and find something to watch, and just figured it would be nice to have the company. I mean, don’t feel obligated or anything if you have something better to do. I just thought I’d offer.”

His following silence and perplexed expression were enough to make her regret asking. She’d made it clear that it was meant to be strictly friendly, but maybe the invitation still hadn’t come across the way she’d wanted it to.

But then after what felt like an eternity (probably a few seconds in actuality), a grin broke out across his face. “I would like nothing more, Swan. As long as you’re sure I wouldn’t be imposing on you.”

“Of course not. You’ll probably be doing me a favor by not making me eat the pizza alone since I can never finish it all and get stuck with leftovers for, like, five days afterward.”

“In that case, I expected to be well-compensated for my assistance.”

She refused to let her mind run away with that idea in public. “We’ll see.”

Emma then remembered she didn’t have as much as a phone number for him. All of their interactions so far had been face to face. “Here.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, opened the screen to start a new text, and handed it to him. “Put your number in there, and I’ll text you my address. Not that it’s that hard to find in a town this small, but still. Six-thirty work for you?”

“Sounds great. I look forward to it.”

By that evening, she was equal parts excited and terrified. She’d spent most of the day wondering if inviting him over had been a mistake. Not because she didn’t want to spend time with him, but because of how many things could go wrong.

There was a knock on the door at six twenty-eight. Emma took a deep breath and went to answer it, glancing at herself in the hall mirror and hoping she didn’t look like she was having an internal crisis.

“You’re right on time.”

“Of course. It would be bad form to keep a lady waiting.”

“Honestly, where did you learn to talk like that?”

“A number of different places. My mum had a penchant for Jane Austen, for one. Liam and I were forced to sit through that bloody BBC series so many times I practically had it memorized by the time I was ten years old.” He rolled his eyes but laughed when he spoke.

At least she knew that’s where the hand kissing had come from. “I’m partial to the 2005 movie myself. What does she think about that one?”

Killian’s smile vanished. “I’m afraid I don’t know. She passed that same year.”

“Oh my gosh. Killian, I’m so-”

He dismissed the attempted apology. “It’s alright, Swan. You didn’t know. She was sick for quite some time, but she did ensure my grammar skills were impeccable.”

“That they are. And speaking of impeccable, the pizza place was running a special. So I got garlic knots too.” Food was her go to method for deflecting awkwardness, it seemed.

“You’re quickly learning the way to my heart.”

They settled onto opposite ends of her couch with the pizza box and bag of garlic knots between them, not even bothering with plates. Emma turned on the TV and opened Netflix. Her first suggestion was going to be Love Actually, but maybe something without Colin Firth would be a better option after what he’d just shared with her.

“I’ve learned without having to ask that 2000s rom coms seem to be a guilty pleasure for you too. Any suggestions?”

“I’m open to anything. Although I did see Love Actually was back on Netflix if you’re not one of those people who thinks it’s too early for Christmas movies.”

Huh. Maybe she’d been wrong. And maybe he was a mind reader.

“Are you kidding? It’s never too early for Christmas movies.”

“As I just said, you are learning the way to my heart.”

Almost everything she learned about Killian continued to surprise her. And there was so much more she wanted to know. How he took his coffee, what his favorite subject in school had been, if he spoke any other languages, topics he had strong opinions on. He was like an addictive prologue that made her want to stop and binge read the rest of the story.

They sat in comfortable silence for the first half hour or so of the movie, eating the pizza and garlic knots and occasionally making a comment about a specific scene or line.

“What’s your favorite storyline?” she asked him. “And please don’t say the Alan Rickman one, or I’ll be forced to question this friendship.”

“Of course not. He was a bloody wanker to his wife. No one deserves to be treated like that.”

“Okay, good. Friendship officially saved.”

He let out a dramatic sigh of relief. Emma laughed and rolled her eyes. “In all seriousness, however, I do quite like Jamie and Aurélia’s story. They’re able to fall in love despite an inability to communicate, and then he goes and learns another language for the sake of confessing his feelings. It’s quite romantic.”

Of all the things about Killian that she’d learned so far, this surprised her the least. Of course he’d be the romantic type, maybe not with flowers and chocolate and other material things, but in his actions, the things he would do to to show someone they were loved.

“What about you, Swan?” His voice broke her train of thought. “Your favorite storyline, I mean.”

Oh, right. They’d been having a conversation. “That’s easy. David and Natalie.”

“Because of Hugh Grant?” he teased.

“No. Because she got the kind of support I wanted when he found out about everything with the president.” He placed the blame where it was due and never expected the victim to take responsibility for a horrible man’s decisions.

Killian’s smile instantly faded. “Bloody hell. I’m sorry, love. I should have been more considerate.”

“No, it’s fine. Really,” she continued when he attempted to protest. “I mean, that whole situation in itself isn’t fine, but I know you didn’t mean anything by asking. It’s just...well, frankly, today’s not a great day for me and I guess it’s made me reflect on all of it a lot more than usual.”

He pursed his lips before he spoke. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

Here goes nothing, she thought. “Well, today’s my birthday. I didn’t mention it before because it’s not something I really like having a lot of attention on. To be frank, I don’t have a family, I never have. I was found on the side of the road right after I was born and grew up in foster care. The only reason I was able to go to college was because I lucked out and got a scholarship through the high school. And you already know how that ended.

“Don’t get me wrong, I know I have a lot of great things in my life that I’m thankful for. I have friends who are like family to me. I have a job, that, despite my frustrations with it, still pays the bills and keeps me on my feet. But today makes it hard for me not to wonder where I could be now if things had gone differently. If my parents had kept me, if a family had wanted to adopt me, if my first love hadn’t been the kind of man to make me question every bit of my worth. Along with every other decision I’ve ever made.”

She turned to him. “I’m sorry to invite you over and then dump all of this on you. I honestly wasn’t intending on bringing any of it up. I just knew I didn’t want to be alone tonight, and, well, you seem to understand me a lot more than most people do.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Emma’s heart dropped and she felt her palms grow clammy. She’d finally done it. She’d said too much and was pushing him away without even trying.

Just as she was preparing a long, drawn out apology, Killian broke the silence. “You know Liam and I lost our mother. She took us and left our sorry excuse of a father when we were young, and we lived in Boston until she passed. Despite the fact that I was nearly grown, Liam felt as if he had to look out for me for years after. I enlisted in the Navy both because I couldn’t think of a better option after school, and so he could feel he had the freedom to go to nursing school like he’d always wanted.

“My first few years are a bit of a blur now. I was still consumed with grief over losing Mum, and turned to whatever I could to avoid facing it — drinking, gambling, women. Whatever could distract me. Things went on like that until I met Milah when I was twenty-three and stationed on the West Coast. She was older, adventurous, free-spirited, everything my own demons kept me from being. She was also married, something I knew from the beginning but promptly ignored until I was in too deep.”

Emma listened as he explained how he received news that he would be transferred back to the northeast. How he’d gone to Milah and asked her to come with him so they could have a fresh start together. Instead, he’d been crushed when she objected — despite whatever connection the two of them had, she couldn’t leave her husband and their life behind.

“And that was it. I assumed there was no chance of me convincing her otherwise, despite how much I wanted to. So I left and went on to my next post. I’d been there less than two weeks before I heard from one of my old mates that she’d been killed in a boating accident.”

If she’d thought her heart couldn’t sink any lower, she was wrong. “Oh, Killian.”

“I was a wreck for months. I told myself if I’d tried harder, if I’d fought for us, that she might have come with me and would have still been alive. The only thing that kept me from spiraling back into grief was Liam. When he found out, he threatened to leave school to make sure I didn’t go off the deep end. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I got in the way of his dream. And I started driving. I can’t explain how or why, but being out on the road gave me the release I hadn’t been able to find elsewhere.”

He reached over and took her hand in his. “My point behind all this, Swan, is yes, I do understand you. Our pasts may be different where circumstances are concerned, but I know all too well the feeling of questioning how your life could have been different or if you’re where you’re supposed to be. It’s okay to be confused or even upset about how some things have turned out, but I really hope you won’t think less of yourself for it.”

It was difficult to hold back the tears she felt pricking her eyes. She had no desire to cry in front of him after everything else, even though she knew he wouldn’t judge her for it. “How do you always know exactly what to say to me?”

“It’s like you said, love: you and I, we understand each other.” He considered the thought again. “Then again, maybe it’s just all part of my instinctive charm.”

She rolled her eyes and whacked his shoulder with a throw pillow.

Long after the movie ended and Killian had left, Emma found herself lying awake in bed as she considered their earlier conversation. She’d known he was nothing like Neal before she opened up and told him about her past. (Truthfully, she’d known he was a better man than Neal from the day they’d met.) Still, the way he listened, accepted her for who she was, and tried to encourage her when she needed it was nothing like she’d expected.

She also didn’t expect that abnormal thing her pulse did when the UPS truck arrived at Crystalline now. Or when he’d taken her hand earlier. Or when he smiled, laughed, or even so much as cracked a corny joke in her presence.

Everything she’d wanted but had never been able to find with Graham.

Shit. Had she really gone and fallen for her UPS driver?

The answer, she soon learned, was an absolute yes.

Killian was constantly on her mind over the next few days. She thought of him every time she passed a UPS truck on the road, or when one of the literary memes pages she followed on Instagram posted something related to Pride & Prejudice. And his deliveries, which were already one of the better parts of her work days, soon became something she eagerly awaited, despite feeling silly for it.

Emma only hoped that if there had been a shift in her demeanor or actions since the revelation on her birthday that he wouldn’t notice.

And he wasn’t the only thing often on her mind, either. She wasn’t even looking for writing opportunities when one fell into her lap. She’d been online, researching the English and creative writing programs at a handful of colleges in Portland, more for curiosity’s sake than anything else. It was still uncertain when or even if she would be able to go back, but there was no harm in looking, right? That's when she found the promotion for a Young Fiction Writing contest open to residents of Maine under 30.

A few months ago, she might have glanced over the details and moved on. But something made her stop and carefully read through the description and guidelines. It wasn't necessarily the particular contest itself that stood out to her; it was standard as far as events like it were concerned.

No, what stood out to Emma was the confidence she hadn't felt in years when it came to writing. Because, for once, her immediate reaction wasn't thoughts of doubt or self loathing. She felt as if she could actually get it a shot. Even though the deadline was less than a week away.

Within minutes, she'd bookmarked the posting and opened the word document for a short story she'd written about seventy percent of before abandoning it several months earlier. It was an adventure story about a runaway princess who leaves home after a dictator takes over her kingdom, and finds unexpected romance with a reformed pirate as they team up to overthrow him.

She had never even finished plotting the last quarter of the story. It was part of her cycle of getting excited about an idea, writing part of it, and then giving up at some point thanks to doubt and insecurity.

But cycles could be broken.

For the rest of the night, she went back and forth between her laptop and the notebook she used to jot down story ideas and managed to come up with the bare bones for the remainder of the story. The rest of the details could be filled in along the way; she had what she really needed.

The next few days passed in a blur of working, helping prepare for the town’s fall festival, and spending hours in front of her laptop in attempt to finish her story before the contest deadline.

And somehow, she managed to do it all. After one last read-through to catch any technical errors she might have missed before, Emma submitted her contest entry less than an hour before the midnight deadline.

The chances of her winning anything was minimal, she’d known that from the beginning, especially since she’d thrown together the last bit of the story so quickly. But that wasn’t important to her now. She had done it. She’d finished a story for the first time in months, years maybe, and that alone meant more to her than any prize.

And she couldn’t wait to tell Killian.

She had hoped he would be making a delivery the next morning so she could tell him first thing. Of course there was always the option of sending him a text, but she wanted to tell him in person considering how significant his encouragement had been to her wanting to write again in the first place.

At least she knew he would be attending the fall festival that night with Liam and Harper. Surely she could find a moment to talk to him while Liam was off romancing Elsa.

Since there was no delivery, she spent the rest of the day on pins and needles waiting for the festivities to start that evening. Elsa and Anna closed Crystalline a few hours early, and at six, the three of them walked to the town square where the event was being held. The space was packed with both people and various attractions, but Emma’s only concern was locating a familiar head of dark hair and blue eyes.

After half an hour of wandering around through vendors and game booths, she finally spotted him at the face painting table with Liam, and a little girl with her father’s dark curls that was having a unicorn painted on her cheek, courtesy of Belle.

She came up behind Killian and tapped him on the shoulder. “Please tell me you’re getting a matching unicorn on your cheek too. It would really bring out the blue in your eyes.”

“Hello, Swan. And, as much as I hate to disappoint you, the answer is no. With my luck, I wouldn’t be able to wash it all off and wouldn’t hear the end of it during my stops tomorrow.”

Emma sighed dramatically. “What a shame. I guess I’ll never get to find out what a cute Brony you would have been.”

She and Liam laughed at Killian’s objection as Liam took his daughter’s hand and suggested he take her to the pumpkin carving table.

When they had left, Emma turned back to Killian. “What are the chances he only wanted to carve a pumpkin because he knows Elsa is over there helping Anna and Kristoff?”

“Pretty likely I’d say. I can’t wait to tease him about it during my speech at their wedding.”

“I will most definitely hold you to that. Oh! I had something to tell you,” she said, remembering why she’d been so eager to find him in the first place. “So, long story short, I finished writing something for the first time in ages, and submitted it to this writing contest thing I found online. I’m not expecting to win or anything, but all that matters to me is that I did it.” She couldn’t hold back her smile. “And I really felt like I needed to thank you, because I’m not sure I would have done it if you hadn’t encouraged me so much and made me feel like I could have a purpose outside of being a retail manager.”

The massive grin on his face made her pulse do that thing she still wasn’t sure was completely normal. Or safe. “That’s wonderful, love. I don’t think you truly needed me to make any of that happen, but I’m honored I was able to help all the same.”

“Help is an understatement. Trust me.” She could go into a long, emotional speech about the number of things he’d helped her see differently, but she’d save that for another time, one when they weren’t surrounded by everyone in Storybrooke.

But their present circumstances didn’t stop her from taking an additional leap of faith, not unlike the one she’d taken by inviting him over on her birthday. “Will you go out with me?”

Killian’s eyes widened as if wondering if he’d heard her correctly. “Come again?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just figured that while I’m on a streak of doing things I wouldn’t normally have the guts to, maybe I should keep it up before I lose my nerve.”

His brow furrowed and he placed a hand under his chin like he was deep in thought. “Hmm. I’ll accept on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“You let me take you out to dinner, but we’re having pizza, garlic knots, and cinnamon twists.”

Maybe he was a man after her own heart too. “With an offer like that, I think I’d be a fool to say no.”

#cs ff #meredith writes #cs au #cs fluff #captain swan ff #captain swan #csseptembersunshine #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfiction

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magioftheseas · 7 years

Text

Heart Over Head Over Heels

Summary: Two times Matsuda Yasuke gets forced into developing and furthering his bonds; one time he wasn't. Island Mode AU where Matsuda Yasuke survives the events of dr0 and goes onto be placed within the NWP with the rest of the remnants of despair.

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild medicinal drug use. Also Matsuda’s filthy fucking mouth. Some mentions of illness. Also this fic is like, ~10.7K.

Notes: Few things are more indulgent than this, lbr. I just...got nothing. Please read dr0. Do it for him. Also MatsuKamu is the most criminally underrated pair. MatsuKoma and MatsuHina are pretty good, too. I honestly would not be opposed to writing Matsuda interact with the other sdr2 kids, but I’m really not sure if literally anyone except myself would give a shit about that.

**Alternative Ao3 Link**

Commission? Donate?

This whole thing was bullshit. Absolute bullshit. Everything about this was bullshit.

Jabberwock was a nonsensical bullshit island befitting its nonsensical bullshit name, and he wanted no fucking part of it. He barely had time for idiots in middle school, why did he have to have nothing but time for idiots now?

Lovey-Dovey Heart-Throbbing Island Adventure. God. What was his life now, a shitty harem game? Ew.

He supposed with Usami here, it could be like the third movie of Heretic Angel ☆ Mochi Mochi Princess Buko—but Usami was too sugary saccharine even for Buko. She’d be at-place in a knock-off wannabe brand of S@nR*o, but nothing actually refined or respectable. He wouldn’t mind her too much—

“Matsuda-kun, uuu... You really should be making friends...”

If not for her insisting on this bullshit.

“That’s no good, Matsuda-kun! Friendship is very important and leads to a long, hopeful life!”

“Unless you’re dying of a brain disease,” Matsuda said bluntly. “Then friendship don’t do shit.”

“Awawawa!!!”

The sun was shining through the windows. The beds in the hospital were comfortable if anything else, and the hospital itself was very conveniently the quietest place here. And this idiot rabbit was flailing at him in distress. What a comical sight. Not as comical as his manga, mind you, and he really was extra pissy that the volume he’d be waiting for wasn’t in the library. Still, this hospital bed wasn’t half-bad to just lay on and the ceiling wasn’t half-bad to stare at.

If only his cabin could be this comfortable and quiet. But after being waken up the third morning in a row by a screaming punk rocker, he didn’t much care for it, so he made himself home at the hospital building instead. Read up on the texts there. Studied. Played with the scalpels. Threw them at Usami when she showed up.

“Matsuda-KUN!!!” He stared past her at the punctured holes in the wall that could be connected to create the tacky outline of a tacky rabbit thing. Needed more holes though. “Enough is enough! You NEED to go out and make friends!”

“I’m working to be a competent doctor, not a well-adjusted person,” he said. “So why don’t you take your tacky saccharine sweetness and spread it on some cupcakes instead of bother me?”

“H-Harsh! So harsh!” Usami whined. “Uuu, my darling student...so harsh...! You’re only seventeen, Matsuda-kun, you needn’t be so harsh...”

Matsuda’s brow quirked, and he pushed himself up.

“I do my chores,” he said. “And I study. You really shouldn’t expect more.”

“B-Bu...” Usami sniffled. “Matsuda-kun... You mustn’t be so...hopeless... Please won’t you make friends? If you collect enough hope fragments—they become stars that grant your wishes!!”

“Wow, sounds like bullshit.”

“Matsuda-kuuuun!”

“But you’re just going to keep on bothering me until I go out,” he said, running his fingers through his hair with a sigh. He slipped off the bed and slipped his feet into the hospital slippers. “Well, I have been getting tired of seeing your face, so... Maybe a new face to get sick of wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Yes!” Usami cried tears of hurt and relief. “Go out and make friends, Matsuda-kun! Love, love!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

...make friends, huh...?

He wasn’t sure where to start. Everyone here was a nutjob to varying degrees and in varying ways so how was he supposed to choose?

With the sun beating down on his nape, his irritation festered just a bit more.

Friends... Friends.. Friends...

For some reason, it just annoyed him more and more to the point of giving him a migraine, of all things.

“Urgh...” Matsuda rubbed at his temples, biting his tongue with a hiss. “Ah, geez, what even the hell?”

First thing’s first, he should go to the market and grab some extra medicine for his headaches. He had been popping pills more often for—some reason, and he had a feeling he’d really need it for the moments to come.

He made his way there in long, swift strides, glare narrowing and scowl deepening.

All this is temporary anyway. I don’t have to waste that much time, it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine—

The doors opened as he stepped through. There was a low buzz in the air from the air conditioner, and Matsuda made a beeline for the pharmacy aisle.

Someone else was there and this would either be majorly convenient or majorly aggravating. Perhaps both. But, aah, well...

“Ah...!”

Fluffy white curls swept through the air as Komaeda turned on his heel, blinking those wide, gray-green eyes back at his dull stare. Matsuda’s frown deepened just as a smile spread across Komaeda’s thin lips—and why was he looking so hard at this guy’s face again?

“Matsuda-kun! Good morning! Fancy meeting you here!”

“Yo,” he said, raising a hand alongside his brow. “I guess even headaches can get headaches.”

Komaeda laughed, backing away from the shelf.

“Aha! Sorry, sorry, was I in the way? I don’t...mean to cause you trouble, Matsuda-kun, of course not...!”

“You’re not in the way, you’re just there,” he said, stepping forward and plucking a bottle of the shelf. He pocketed it without a second thought.

“You’re right!” Komaeda explained. “Someone like me could only ever take up space with my worthless self! Ahaha, I’m so sorry, Matsuda-kun!”

...Urgh...

For some inexplicable reason, this just irritated him further.

...But, that said...

“Do you have any plans?” Komaeda flinched, almost cowering back in the sparkling presence of the shockingly pink ticket Matsuda held up. “If not, we’re hanging out.”

“M-Matsuda-kun...!”

Matsuda barely batted an eyelash. “We don’t have each other’s hope fragments, right?”

Never mind that I don’t have any hope fragments at all...

“A-Ah, well...” Komaeda’s cheeks enflamed. Gross. “If... If someone as amazing as Matsuda-kun is asking, then... I can’t refuse...!”

“Kay,” he said, placing the ticket in Komaeda’s hand. Immediately, it dissolved in a flurry of sparkles. It was as if he signed a devil’s contract. “Kay. Let’s get going. Hurry up or I’m going to leave you behind.”

“Y-Yes, Matsuda-kun! Right away, Matsuda-kun!”

With how long Komaeda’s legs were, it was almost irritatingly easy for him to keep up with Matsuda’s stride. There was almost a really weird sense of nostalgia to having someone follow him like a lost puppy—but thinking about it gave him a headache so he popped a pill and proceeded to just stop thinking about anything at all.

“So,” Komaeda chirped, fluttering every bit like a nervous bird. “Where are we going?”

“Dunno. Just started walking.”

But from the look of things, this was the direction of...the fourth island, right?

Ah, there’s an amusement park, there.

Well, that was a typical venue for dates, right? Better than sitting on his ass for hours while staring at a screen while picking at popcorn stuck in his gums. If he had to get up and “make friends”, he might as well be active. Or something.

At least the hospital slippers were comfortable for walking around.

“...um...” Komaeda’s smile twitched as he fiddled with his fingers. “So, we’re...going to the fourth island, right?”

“Sure looks like it,” he said and they crossed the bridge. Waves rolled underneath their feet. “How do you feel about amusement parks anyway?”

“I haven’t been to any since I was a kid,” Komaeda mumbled. “Um, Mioda-san wanted to go with a large group, but... She also wanted to ride the roller coasters and that’s...absolutely...not an option...for someone like me.”

“Someone like you,” Matsuda mimicked. “Well, I’m not one for being jerked around either. So it’s whatever.”

Komaeda laughed lightly.

“It’s...really more than just that,” he said. “It’s far too dangerous.” His breath caught and then his eyes began to swirl. “So many people can die in roller coaster-related accidents! For someone like me, someone like me...! It’s just...not an option...!”

Matsuda glanced at him as he wheezed, voice cracking, pitching, and distorting.

Without thinking, he reaches out and takes his cold, clammy hand, making Komaeda nearly choke.

“M-Matsu...?!”

“No roller coasters,” he said. “Got it. Like I said, I don’t really care. I’m not one for being jerked around.”

Komaeda swallowed back saliva as though his throat ran dry.

“I... Um...” He blushed and hurriedly nodded. “Okay...”

With that, Matsuda tugged him along.

“Riding...on the mouse...is a must...!!”

“A must, huh...?”

“A must!!”

“Kay.”

Matsuda did not ride on the mouse but instead lounged on the unmoving carousel. He watched Komaeda straddle the mouse however and grip the pole as it rose and fell. For that brief moment, Komaeda looked utterly delighted and like a real little kid.

...ah, huh...

The music played on an on in a looping, saccharine melody. Komaeda giggled with glee. Matsuda was this close to falling asleep. In fact, his eyelids grew heavy and with time, slowly, but surely, they fell.

“Mm...”

“Matsuda-kun!”

Matsuda perked up, blinking blearily a few times. The merry-go-round wasn’t moving, and the music was no longer playing. Komaeda, however, was smiling brightly down at him, fingers clasped behind his back.

“I know I’m not the most terribly interesting company,” he said. “But, sleeping like this is bad for your neck, Matsuda-kun!”

Matsuda’s joints popped and scraped against one another in agreement.

“Not the worst position I slept in,” he yawned. He took Komaeda’s offered hand and helped himself up. “Did you enjoy yourself, at least?”

“O-Of course!” Komaeda stammered out. “How could I not?!”

“...I could think of a few ways,” he said but didn’t elaborate further on the topic. He stretched. “So, what else are we doing?”

“Eh...” Komaeda blinked at him dumbly. “What else...?”

“Yeah, what else,” Matsuda repeated, unimpressed. “Just going on one ride would be too half-assed even for someone like me.”

“But...!” Komaeda gasped. “Someone like me... Just one ride is more than I could ever ask for from someone like you, Matsuda-kun!”

Matsuda scowled.

“Are you saying you don’t want to go anywhere else?”

“It’s not about what I want...!”

“Then shut up,” he snapped and Komaeda’s mouth did indeed snap shut. “If you keep overthinking, you’ll overheat and that worthless brain of yours will end up melting. You’re already stupid enough so let’s not add further brain damage to the mix, Komaeda.”

Komaeda blinked up at him and then swallowed, nodding in return.

“Come on,” Matsuda said, gesturing him to follow with his shoulder. “I wanna try the Ferris Wheel next.”

“The... Ferris Wheel...?”

Matsuda stopped, spinning around on his heel.

“Yeah,” he said. “Do you have any problems with that?”

Komaeda’s smile twitched.

“I... A few... Like if it breaks...or stops...” Once again, his eyes swirl. “Or stops, breaks, and then rolls away.”

“What kind of shitty action movies have you been watching? You should be watching more worthwhile flicks—like Home Alone or something.”

Komaeda blinked up at him, eyes bright and shimmering.

“...I don’t watch action movies. They’re loud and uncomfortable. And voyeuristic. Not to mention I’ve been in those situations before...” he trailed off.

“I get it,” Matsuda said, huffing. “We can go on something else. There’s a train ride around here, right...?”

A train...

“Oh, no!” Komaeda gasped out. “No, no! If you want to go on the Ferris Wheel, then you can, Matsuda-kun! But...” He fiddled with his fingers. “It’d be such despair if something happened to you because a lowly worm like me was there, so...”

Like a merry-go-round, this conversation is going in irritating circles.

“Are we going or not?” he asked. “Yes or no?”

“W-Well, I...”

“Yes,” Matsuda repeated, stressing out the word between his teeth in a hiss. “Or no?”

Komaeda flinched, hesitated, and then shakily he nodded.

“Um, um... Y... Yes. Yes, we’re going. Sorry, Matsuda-kun.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said coolly, turning back so they could resume going on their way. “Like I said, you just shouldn’t think further on the matter at all. Idiot.”

Komaeda shivered but soon enough skipped up after him with a giggle.

“Matsuda-kun, you’re sharper than a scalpel! Hahaha!”

Matsuda hmphed at that.

Komaeda looked up at the Ferris Wheel with the strangest expression, at each passenger car rising to meet the sky before descending, each pausing at the ground to potentially welcome someone inside.

Matsuda shrugged off his thoughts and the two of them stepped inside and settled on the cold plastic seats as the doors creaked shut.

“...it’s very different,” Komaeda murmured, looking out dazedly, shifting the slightest bit. “I never rode the Ferris Wheel before...” He smiled faintly. “I was too scared of it rolling away, but... It really isn’t so bad...”

“Yeah?” he droned. “I rode it once because...”

He stopped.

Ah... Huh...?

“Because...?” Komaeda frowned. “Matsuda-kun...?”

Matsuda rubbed his temples as they began throbbing again, this time more fiercely like there was a violent recoil inside his head.

“U-Urgh...!” He quickly fished out that bottle of pills, and swallowed another one dry. He groaned, rubbing as the pain dissipated. “Fuck... Christ... Do I have a fucking tumor or something?”

“A-A tumor?!” Komaeda paled with a look of utter horror. Irritably, Matsuda waved his hand with a sigh.

“No, it’s nothing, it’s nothing.” The words almost felt planted on his tongue. He couldn’t really explain it and—he felt the compulsion to just ignore it entirely. “Honestly with how ridiculous the whole situation is... Chronic headaches developing suddenly isn’t that weird.”

Even though deep down I know there’s more to it—

I feel pressured to just ignore it.

“Ah...” Komaeda faltered like a wilting flower. “Matsuda-kun... Please take good care of yourself...”

“Geez,” he grumbled. “I shouldn’t have you of all people telling me that.”

Komaeda smiled sadly and Matsuda averted his eyes from that sight to the one of the amusement park as well as the rest of the island spreading out before them. Matsuda straightened his posture as he stared out further, to the endless blue of the ocean and sky.

“...when the sun sets,” Komaeda spoke up suddenly. “This is sure to be quite the stunning sight, don’t you think, Matsuda-kun?”

“I guess,” he replied. Komaeda laughed.

“With how vibrant orange complements blue, it’ll really be radiant to see, I’m sure,” he said. “But... As it is now... This is...nostalgic to look at... I was worried but... This...really isn’t so bad... It’s calming, I think.”

Matsuda turned and Komaeda had a gentle, serene smile that seemed different from the rest of the calm, vapid smiles he’d toss around so carelessly.

...This is nostalgic for me, too, he thought. But... It’s still really different.

Their car creaked as it continued to rise. Komaeda suddenly shivered.

“A-Aha...” He wrapped his arms around himself. “Ah, ah, um, sorry... Sorry... I don’t know why, I really was fine but then—!”

“Oi,” Matsuda said, voice lower. Slowly, he began to move. “Komaeda, are you...?”

Komaeda shook his head furiously.

“I-It’s just! We’re so high up! So high, so high! If we got stuck here—or if we fell with no way of protecting ourselves—that would just be the worst, wouldn’t it?!”

His breath hitched.

“That makes this really dangerous, doesn’t it, doesn’t it, doesn’t it—!”

And then suddenly, the wheel stopped and Matsuda toppled forward. Komaeda yelped.

And then, Matsuda’s hand smacked against the other end of the car, his knee hitting the seat and making him shudder, all while Komaeda’s nose was crushed against his chest.

“...Ow,” Matsuda cursed colorfully, wincing as he pushed himself away. Komaeda’s eyes were wide like dinner plates, and Matsuda plopped back down on his seat. Both his hand and knee seriously ached right now.

“M... Matsuda-kun...” Komaeda looked around, and then wheezed out a laugh. “I-It stopped! It completely...utterly...stopped!”

“I noticed,” he said, frown deepening. “Well that’s just fan-fucking-tastic.”

Komaeda burst out laughing.

“I-I knew it! I just—I just knew it!” he gasped, giggling manically as his fingers tangled into his hair and pulled. “I knew this would happen and now we’re stuck here—someone like me got someone as wonderful and amazing as the Matsuda Yasuke-kun in this despairingly unlucky situation! I really am the worst! Just—the worst! The lowliest, most disgusting, most deplorable—!”

Matsuda’s hand smacked over his mouth, silencing him.

“Komaeda,” he said lowly and sternly. “Shut the hell up. None of that is even accurate. I was the one who said I wanted to be here, right?”

Komaeda quivered, his breath hot against his hand. Irritably, Matsuda shoved his hand against his mouth harder to utterly muffle any possible sound.

“I’m taking complete responsibility for this one and you’re not to fucking take that from me,” he said firmly. “This whole thing is the result of my dumbass decision making. Got that?”

He pulled his hand away to run his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

“...That fucking rabbit bitch better get our asses down soon,” he grumbled. He noticed Komaeda was staring at him with sparkling eyes and glared. “What the hell’s with that stupid look?”

“Matsuda-kun, you’re...even more tsun than Hinata-kun!” Komaeda gasped. “It’s incredible! Amazing! There’s no way Hinata-kun’s talent can be Ultimate Tsuntsun Hair when you exist!”

“...well you’re back to a level of acceptably stupid.” Matsuda sighed. “Geez, you... So what’s wrong with you anyway?”

“So many things!” Komaeda exclaimed cheerfully. “I’m wrong just by being here!”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Matsuda snapped. “The way you talk, the things you say, the way you act—it’s all creepily familiar to someone I knew.”

It hurt, a bit, both in his head and in his chest.

Komaeda’s face fell, and he laughed softly.

“...Matsuda-kun’s the Ultimate Neurologist,” he said. “I kind of figured...you’d just know.”

“So you’re tight-lipped now, huh?” Matsuda rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “Well... It doesn’t matter... If I’m right, then I’m right.”

“Right,” Komaeda agreed, smile twitching at the seams.

“And if I’m right,” Matsuda went on. “I’ll be...seeing a lot more of you after all this is over. That said, I’m still keeping a close eye on you. You’re my responsibility now, too, Komaeda Nagito.”

Komaeda’s smile widened.

“Matsuda-kun.”

Matsuda perked up, and then he was almost blindsided by how bright Komaeda’s smile seemed in that moment.

“Please take good care of me.”

“M-Matsuda-kuuuuun! Sensei is... Sensei is so sorryyyyyy~!”

“Yeah, you better be.”

Usami wailed to his annoyance. At the very least, Komaeda was in a good mood afterwards, laughing without any worries whatsoever.

“Well, this thing should be working properly from now on,” Souda said. “Probably... It looks like it should.”

“Do you really think that?” Hinata asked. “A Ferris Wheel is...much more complicated than anything that can be worked on in a shed, right?”

“Hinata-kun, you’re talking to the Ultimate Mechanic!” Komaeda scolded. “If anyone knows, it’s Souda-kun!”

“Yeah, what he said!”

“Didn’t you just say probably?!”

Usami sniffled.

“S-Students... Please... Please don’t fight... We should all be happy that Matsuda-kun and Komaeda-kun are okay...”

“And it’s all thanks to Souda-kun!” Komaeda gushed, making Souda preen even more.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Hey, uh... Matsuda...?”

Matsuda perked up, Hinata shrinking back a bit under his unimpressed stare. Averting his gaze, Hinata rubbed at the nape of his neck.

“Are you, uh...feeling alright...? Komaeda seems fine, so...”

“I’m fine,” he said. “That wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to me. Compared to being kidnapped without warning by a freaky rabbit to some freaky island in the middle of fucking nowhere... The Ferris Wheel getting stuck is hardly a misfortune worth writing home about.”

Usami and Hinata both flinched.

“I...see... Well, I’m glad both of you are doing alright...?”

“Yeah,” Matsuda said. “Yeah...”

He idly dug his hand through his pocket. His fingers grazed through something warm and smooth. Polished like a gem. He paused, and he glanced towards Komaeda, laughing and smiling and perking up at his stare and brightening in response.

Matsuda’s hand closed around the hope fragment and squeezed until it dissipated.

“Matsuda-kun, I really did have a lot of fun!” Komaeda chirped. “Next time, let’s go someplace like the beach! Hopefully my luck won’t bring a tidal wave raining down on us!”

Matsuda just gave a thumbs-up in response.

“Souda-kun, come to think of it, we were supposed to gather materials!” Komaeda exclaimed, making Souda perk.

“Oh yeah, now that ya mention it...”

“We should get going!!” Komaeda ushered him without further discussion on the matter. “Go, go, go! If Sonia-san hears you’ve been slacking off, she’ll be very disappointed, Souda-kun!”

Souda didn’t need much ushering after that, and with one last wave from Komaeda, the two of them ran off.

“How diligent!” Usami cooed.

Matsuda blinked a few times, unimpressed.

“...well, I should probably...”

He was only half-prepared to head back, honestly, so he shouldn’t have been surprised.

“...wait. Uh, Matsuda...?”

He stopped, and he wasn’t oblivious to Usami practically twinkling with delight. For now, he ignored her and focused on that hideous pink ticket that Hinata was holding out. Hinata himself looked awfully flustered.

“It’s...still early enough in the day,” he mumbled. “And we haven’t really...hung out at all since we got here.”

Matsuda just blinked.

“If you can make Komaeda that happy, then you must not be so bad, right?” Hinata asked with a wince. Come to think of it, Matsuda’s knee was probably going to make one ugly bruise. “So, uh...what do you say?”

Usami’s sparkly, expectant gaze was burning holes into his back.

Matsuda sighed.

“...Sure thing.”

What the hell.

“Love, love!” Usami chirped oh so happily. “Then I’ll leave you two be!”

Matsuda took the ticket and both it and Usami dissolved into another flurry of sparkles. The devil’s contract claimed more of his soul.

They went back to the hospital on the third island so that he could grab some ointment for his knee. It throbbed as he walked which was a literal pain, so the ointment helped a lot. And that was a good time for Hinata to just...look around his makeshift bedroom in slight awe.

“You, uh...really, uh...” He swallowed, glancing at the haphazard stacks of manga and textbooks on the table and a few neat stacks of various snack boxes. “You really made yourself at home...in this patient room...some of this is from your cottage, isn’t it...?”

“A couple of the books from the bookshelf, others from the library,” Matsuda said, and rummaged through one of the boxes for a few packages of rice crackers. “I wasn’t allowed to take the television and Usami most certainly whined at me, but y’know I don’t...give a shit...so it’s whatever.”

“It’s pretty quiet out here,” Hinata mused, looking out the window. “Even though the music venue’s on this island too, you can’t hear it at all from here. This hospital is...actually pretty isolated.”

“Yep,” he said. “Hence why it’s my preferred place of stay.”

Hinata nodded along. Matsuda tossed him a rice cracker and he caught it with a jump.

“Er... Thanks...” He pocketed the snack, swallowing as he did. “So you... Do you actually talk to anyone? Besides Komaeda, obviously, uh... What about Tsumiki?”

“That bitch?”

“Urk...” Matsuda looked so incredulous then that Hinata couldn’t help but falter, the corner of his lips twitching. “Well, she’s not like...an actual licensed doctor like you apparently are, but... She’s the Ultimate Health Committee Member and that...counts for something, right?”

“Hardly,” Matsuda huffed, affronted. “That’s like putting a hall monitor on the same level as a police officer. Oi, I may have skipped ahead a few years, but I did not suffer through grueling medical school to hear this level of bullshit.”

“...ah, sorry...” Wincing, Hinata ducked his head in apology. “I didn’t...mean anything by it.”

Matsuda waved him off with a sigh.

“It’s fine,” he grumbled. “Ms. Bitchtits Health Committee Member actually is more qualified than the typical idiot with a first aid kit. Sometimes she stops by, but... Well...”

He trailed off, thinking of crying and wailing that left his ears ringing for hours.

“...we’re not exactly amicable.”

That said, Tsumiki Mikan was someone who seriously, personally bothered him so much so that he tended to steer clear of her, metaphorical allergy to her sniveling aside.

“Yeah,” Hinata said, giving him an unimpressed look. “I’m not surprised to hear that. Tsumiki is...” A pause. “She’s...fragile. And you’re kind of a complete asshole.”

Oh, honey.

“Fragile and disturbed,” he quipped. “And you know it.”

Hinata flinched, and then his frown deepened.

“...Asshole,” he huffed back.

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Hinata Hajime...really was an unremarkable oddity. Painfully average but still among the talented and still one of the talented—urgh, his headache was starting up again like there was something intimately wrong with those words—then again, being typical in an atypical crowd technically flipped things around, right?

Though not knowing your own talent—that was just plain weird.

Then again... I feel like my memory’s not the best either. A lot of things are...a blur...and a headache.

He might need to take another pill soon.

“...Um... So...”

Ah, Hinata was talking again. And Matsuda remembered.

“Right,” he said. “Our date. Alright, let’s get going. I think I can walk.”

Hinata, eying him ever warily, nodded in response.

“I... Yeah...”

“Yep.”

Once again, the two of them were off.

He shouldn’t be surprised; thus, he shouldn’t be disappointed, but... Still...

“We...were on the third island anyway,” Hinata muttered lamely as Matsuda’s eyes narrowed. “A-And hey, the movies here actually aren’t too bad.”

Well, he told himself. It’s not like I’m with Hinata because I sought him out or anything.

“You take all the boys here, huh?” he asked. “Wow, you really are a manwhore.”

“Shut the hell up!” Hinata screeched. “You didn’t have to come!”

“Yes I did,” he retorted. “That’s the point of this trip, right? Collecting hope fragments. It’s okay. I’m used to being used. Let’s just make this quick and painless.”

Hinata flushed so red-hot that steam poured from his ears. Ever nonchalant, Matsuda shrugged it off.

“Y-You...” Hinata shook his head furiously. “You just...say whatever the hell you want, don’t you?”

“Yep.” He wouldn’t deny something that obvious. “This trait is hardly exclusive to me though so if you’ve been whoring yourself out as much as I know you have, you should be used to this kind of shit now, right?”

“I haven’t been...!” Hinata choked on air before he could even taste the word. “You... God, you’re beyond insufferable. I don’t have any idea how Komaeda could stand you.”

“Komaeda could also stand sucking my dick and it's a mystery to me too,” Matsuda said without thinking.

Hinata’s mouth fell open, eyes going blank. He did not speak. He did not even breathe.

“...joking,” Matsuda said, and Hinata wheezed.

“O-Oh my god, just fucking go!” he hissed and shoved Matsuda further. “G-Go... Go pick out a seat or...fucking something...!”

He very nearly shoved Matsuda into the glass door and...

He...definitely deserved that.

Honestly.

The inside of the theater smelled like salt, butter, and mistakes. He did rather like the font they used for the neon signs reading Ticket and Screen. Fucking brilliant. A real arthouse.

Already, rather eerily, there were snacks for selection and no one at the table. Usually this kind of situation would go horribly badly, but—this whole trip started with a talking magical stuffed rabbit thing. He’s probably not going to be poisoned or cursed if he eats the popcorn.

Not that he even wants any popcorn or anything.

“Popcorn’s a must, right?” Hinata asked as if he read his mind. Gross.

“I think... I’m good with my own snacks.” Aah, but... “I’ll grab a drink. I’m fucking thirsty.”

He grabbed the large cup and went straight to the soda machine. Thankfully, they had the good brands like Dr. Hopper. Actually pretty pleased with that, Matsuda filled his cup.

“Right,” he said and sipped his straw. “So, Hinata, what movie were you thinking of taking me to?”

Hinata froze, hand hovering over the hotdog he was prepared to grab. Seeming to think better of it—thank fucking god—Hinata dropped his hand.

“I don’t really know,” he admitted. “I didn’t actually think you’d go with me.”

“Ooh boy,” Matsuda sighed and took another sip.

“B-But there are all kinds of selections!” Hinata exclaimed hurriedly. “Like, uh... Horror?”

“Pass. I hate gore.”

“I, oh, but aren’t you—never mind that.” Hinata shook his head. “Uh, what about an action flick?”

“Action...” He paused, thinking about it. “Ehhhh, no. I’m not crazy about that either. Those can get pretty violent, too.”

Hinata gave him a withering look.

“Um... M... Mystery...?”

Poor thing looked completely lost. He really should spare some mercy.

Nah.

“Most mysteries about solving a murder case, right?” he asked. “Again. Not a fan of gore. Even if it’s only a little bit.”

“Then what do you want to see?!” Hinata demanded, sputtering.

Matsuda gave another pause and popped his lips before taking yet another sip.

“Mm...”

What I want, huh...?

He thought about it.

Well, if I was going to sit on my ass for two hours and stare at a screen, what I’d want to be playing on the screen would probably be...

“Anime.”

Hinata blinked once, twice, and seemed to have aged ten years in ten milliseconds.

“...anime,” he repeated.

“Anime,” Matsuda said. “Preferably one of the Ponpon movies. The fourth one is objectively the best but the seventh one is my personal favorite.”

“I’m not familiar with that series,” Hinata replied blankly.

“Aw, really? That’s a shame.” He sipped. “It’s a mainstream classic, y’know.”

Hinata once again just blinked at him. At least this time, he inhaled, exhaled.

“Anything...stand-alone?”

Matsuda hummed.

“...The Tale of Princess Kaguya.”

Hinata straightened up at that, perking.

“...Kaguya...?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know who Princess Kaguya is,” Matsuda sneered in disgust. Hinata quickly waved his hands.

“No, no! I do...! I just... That’s...” He bit his tongue. “Never mind. Let’s go see if they have it. Maybe they will? I... Hopefully they will, yeah...”

Hinata hurriedly scampered off to find the film reels. Matsuda went with him since he might as well, but he didn’t really need to be there. Hinata found the film reel he wanted, and the two of them could just go into the theater and take a seat without any problems.

Matsuda refilled his cup when he had the opportunity. He would have just taken a seat without any problems... But, Hinata, of course, made him go to the bathroom before they sat down.

Jerk.

Well... That went as expected.

Hinata seemed rather dazed as they walked out. Satisfied, Matsuda tossed his empty cup.

They hadn’t really spoken during the movie. If anything, they were almost obscenely quiet to the point where even when Hinata nibbled on his rice cracker, the sounds were as soft as crunching could be. And then, Hinata cried. And he tried in vain to hide it by rubbing his eyes until they swelled up more. Matsuda just watched the credits as Hinata shifted and squirmed.

Then they went to the bathroom, and Matsuda headed out of that quickly so Hinata could “discreetly” wash his face in peace. And now they were both here, standing in the lobby and not really looking at each other.

“...that was really good,” Hinata said finally, tugging at his tie. “It was...uh...really good. Really...pretty...”

“What can I say?” Matsuda asked. “I may half-ass a lot of things, but my taste is as refined as can be.”

“Uh...huh...” Hinata swallowed. “But, yeah, I actually really enjoyed that. Thanks.”

“This movie date was your idea,” he pointed out. “So, shouldn’t I be thanking you?”

“...uh.”

“What is that shit over there.”

“H-Hey, wait!”

Too late, Matsuda had already made a beeline for the table in the corner.

“What...is this?” Matsuda squinted as he picked up the tote bag, and he grimaced at the sight of a cutesy pick outline of Usami’s face in the corner. “Are they prizes or something...?”

“Oh, yeah, they are,” Hinata said, rubbing at the nape of his neck. “You’re supposed to get a free tote bag after your first movie, so uh... Guess Usami left one here for you.”

“Free shit that I’ll never need. Amazing.” A pause. “Well... Actually, a tote bag has a lot of use. I guess...this isn’t so bad, then...”

Hinata snorted. “Yeah, it’s not.”

“...These stickers, though...” There was a neat little stack of them, and Matsuda could almost feel Hinata grimace with how quickly the mood dropped at the mention of them. “Gross... Aren’t these of that creepy bear thing?”

“Urgh, yeah. Just...ignore those. Everyone else does.”

Matsuda wanted to, but he couldn’t help but see the text.

I’m sorry, I was born stupid.

“Wow. Charming.” Not that he didn’t have any room to talk and—urgh looking at the damn thing was giving him a major headache. How much of an eyesore could one tacky sticker be? “Mmgh...”

“Are you alright?” Hinata asked, suddenly worried. “You got...really pale for a moment there, Matsuda...”

“Did it...?” He winced as he rubbed at his temples. “Urgh...”

What even the hell is this?

“We should, uh, probably go back, right?” Hinata asked and for some reason, Matsuda felt his headache worsen, his vision blurring, Hinata’s very

figure

flickering.

What?

“O-Oi, Matsuda?!” Hinata seized his arm, and his focus snapped to attention with a recoil that left him stinging. Matsuda very nearly shuddered, and Hinata squeezed his wrist. “H-Hey... Can you hear me? Are... Are you alright, Matsuda...?”

Matsuda’s eyelids fluttered and he shook his head furiously.

“I...”

“Come on,” Hinata pulled at him. “You’re really not looking so good—I can go get Tsumiki...”

“No.”

Matsuda stood his ground, resisting the pull for now. Scratching irritably at his neck, he shrugged.

“I think... I just need to lie down for a bit.”

“I... Are you sure?” Hinata frowned. “If something’s really wrong...”

Hasn’t something been really wrong from the start?

He shoved that thought away.

What the hell ever.

“It’s whatever,” he said. “Just take me back to my room. Specifically, my room at the hospital, but saying take me to the hospital doesn’t exactly inspire a lot of confidence that I’m fine or whatever, huh?”

“Not really,” Hinata agreed and sighed. “I... Alright... Come on, Matsuda. L... Let’s go back.”

“Yeah, yeah...”

It was starting to set and—it really was as radiant as Komaeda said it would be, with everything awash in a vibrant orange and pink.

Matsuda popped in one of his pills and took a swing from one of the water bottles he had stocked up.

“...long day,” he said, cracking his shoulders. “It seemed to go by so quickly.”

“That usually happens when you spend time with people,” Hinata said before pausing and adding, “I...think so anyway. I guess it depends on the person you’re spending time with.”

Well, he couldn’t disagree with that.

“...hey, Matsuda...?”

Matsuda perked up. Hinata seemed sheepish, almost tense as he averted Matsuda’s cool blue gaze.

“How are you feeling?”

Huh?

“You’re still worried about me?”

Hinata reddened considerably, scowling.

“Of course I am,” he snapped. “You acted really weird all of a sudden. It’s normal to still be a little concerned about that...”

Huh...

“Well, I’m fine,” Matsuda said. “So you don’t need to worry, yeah?”

“I see...” Hinata exhaled as if in relief. “Well, that’s good. Just be careful alright? Take it easy, or at least...try to...”

It’s almost like you actually care about me or something.

“Mm...” Matsuda set his water bottle aside to grab and toss Hinata another bag of snacks. Hinata once again caught it. “Here. Why don’t you take something for the road?”

Matsuda could see the gleam of a hope fragment with the snacks in Hinata’s grasp. With a squeeze, Hinata pocketed them both.

“...Thanks,” he said, still not looking at him. “For agreeing to go with me, and... That movie was nice. So...thanks for that, too.”

“You’re welcome,” Matsuda replied. “Thanks for taking me in the first place. You’re not so bad to hang out with... I guess...”

Hinata smiled wanly, the edge of it twisting.

“That’s something,” he said, laughing just a little. “Then... I’ll be seeing you later?”

“Yeah,” Matsuda said, raising his hand. “See ya.”

Hinata waved back, heading out, shutting the door with a soft click.

Matsuda plopped onto his bed.

...geez...

Well, that was something.

What even was that, anyway—

“Matsuda-kuuuun, you did so well, love, love!”

Whoosh, thwack.

“H-Huuuuuuueh?!”

Despite that initial freak-out, Usami’s ears drooped with resignation as she turned to see the familiar scalpel stuck in the wall. Another dot for the connect-the-dots outline. “U... Uuuu... Matsuda-kun... Why do you always throw knives at me?!”

“Shut up,” he chided. “Don’t show up without warning at a weird fucking hour. That’s rude. At least knock on the fucking door like a regular person.”

“I-I’m...!”

“Right,” he recalled. “Not a person.”

“I may not be human but I have the heart of a maiden!” Usami whined. “P-Please don’t think badly of your teacher... Uuu...”

“You’re too pitiful to think badly of,” he said. “So if you’re worried about that, you shouldn’t be. You’re just weird in a lot of ways—such as weird in that you’re afraid of a little tiny scalpel.”

“Yaaaaay!” Usami cheered, and Matsuda could only turn away and stare into the void.

...this is my bullshit life now.

“I am really proud of you, that said!” Usami went on with a chirp. “Are you feeling more hopeful now, Matsuda-kun?”

“That is one of the stupidest, most inane things you could have asked me.”

“U-Urk!” Usami flinched but admirably, kept on trying with that sugary, pleading smile. “Then... How do you feel now that you’ve deepened your bonds with a couple of your classmates, Matsuda-kun?”

She tilted her head. Matsuda pushed himself up, brushed past her, and reached out to pull out the scalpel from the wall. He observed the sheen of the blade, his reflection.

“...nostalgic,” he said. “Haunting.”

“H-Haunting?!” Usami squeaked. “Matsuda-kun, that’s such a worrying word to use! W-What’s wrong?! How can teacher help?!”

“You can leave,” he said. “Your squealing is making my headache worsen.”

“U-Uuuu!” Usami shrank in on herself. “Matsuda-kun... I really do just want to help...”

...I can believe that much. It’s just the method that I can’t help but question.

Something really does feel...incredibly wrong about this.

Urgh, and he kept getting headaches. It really was irritating.

“...it wasn’t bad,” he said, sighing. “Hanging out with people like that...wasn’t so bad.”

Usami lit up.

“Yay!” She positively beamed. “Just keep at it, Matsuda-kun! Strong bonds lead to a stronger heart!”

Not always.

Aah, that really hurt for some reason.

He looked towards the window, at that setting sun, at wine-dark ocean waves rolling underneath.

It really was nostalgic...and haunting.

But...not so bad, he supposed.

“Love, love!” Usami chirped. “A bright and shining hopeful future awaits on this lovey-dovey heart-throbbing island trip!”

“...if you say so.”

The birthplace of hopeful and shining futures—Hope’s Peak Academy. Revered and admired by the world at large, cradling the world itself at its fingertips. Yep, Hope’s Peak Academy was one hell of a place.

Nothing like a paradise built on the backs of the disenfranchised.

Matsuda couldn’t care less for this damned place at this point—by all accounts he should care even less for what was to become the Ultimate Hope Marionette in a sea of puppets where HPA cheerily pulled the strings.

And, yet.

He finds himself in the madman’s basement, scowling at the fucking cryptid in the middle of the room, atop the neatly made bed, staring at nothing with the creepiest pair of blood-red eyes.

“God, what are you—a fucking lamp? Or a houseplant?”

The cryptid perks up, red eyes gleaming in a way that totally wasn’t creepy or just plain fucking weird at all. Yeah, right. Seriously why the hell did they do that?

“Matsuda Yasuke-kun,” he acknowledges, cool and smooth. “Hello.”

Gross.

“Yo,” Matsuda said, raising his hand and shoving the cart forward. It only rolled ahead two feet. “Three guesses as to who the fucking idiot in charge of your daily examination is today and the first two don’t count.”

“It is you.”

“It’s me,” Matsuda replied, waving his hand. “Good, you’re still able to pick up on basic context clues. You need to exercise your brain to prevent atrophy just like with any of the other muscles in the body.”

“False.”

“Wow, do you hear that? It’s the sound of an input I didn’t fucking ask for. I’m taking off marks for that shit, no flower circle for you today. Nor a gold star, if that’s what you prefer.”

Blink. Blink.

“How boring.”

“I can’t believe the fucking lamp has the audacity to say that to me. That’s it—you fail the course. Try again next semester, you little shit.”

“You seem to be in a worse mood than usual,” he simply observed, shifting the way he sat ever so slightly. “Things have been harsher on you as of late, haven’t they?”

“Ew, did you just ask a question out of concern? Fucking stop that.” Matsuda pushed the cart a little more. “If you really want to know, Kamukura, it’s because I really don’t want to fucking be here right now.”

“You may leave, then,” Kamukura said. “You know as well as I do that this procedure is unnecessary.”

“It’s protocol you fucking idiot savant, necessity isn’t the issue here.” Somehow, he managed to push the cart enough that it was in the necessary vicinity. “Even if I did just leave to tell them there were no issues, I’d still have other shit on my plate I’d have to put up with. What I need is a break from fucking everything.”

Sighing, he started with the examinations, taking Kamukura’s temperature and checking his heartbeat.

“...Actually,” Matsuda found himself saying and almost couldn’t believe it himself. “A break sounds great. How about we go out for a bit?”

Blink. Blink. At least he didn’t have to worry about those creepy fucking eyes shriveling up anytime soon.

“We?”

“Look,” Matsuda sighed, pulling away. “Hinata used to have this healthy tan. You’re pallid like a goddamn corpse. It’s beyond creepy. For the sake of my sanity, you need to get out of this shitty lab every now and then and do fucking something.”

“...how dull...”

“It can’t be worse than sitting in a dark, empty room all day, right?” he snapped, pointing at him accusingly. “Well, whatever. I can’t actually make you do anything. Tch.”

He resumed the examination.

“After I finish with this,” Matsuda said. “I’m gonna postpone all other plans and leave campus for a bit. I’ll be waiting at the front gates for five minutes exactly. If you want to go, there’s your one and only window of opportunity. Got it?”

No response. Kamukura didn’t even seem to be looking at him.

With a scowl, Matsuda knocked him with the back of his fist. Even for a normal person it barely would’ve hurt, so, of course, Kamukura didn’t so much twitch. But, he did glance at him.

“Goooot it?” he droned. “Do you understaaaaaaand?”

“...Yes.” Kamukura nodded blankly. “Of course I do.”

“Good,” Matsuda huffed. “Geez, you’re so fucking obnoxious.”

The examination went as expected. He did his reports as expected, not so much as batting an eyelash at the leering and sneering from a bunch of gross older men whose faces blurred into a series of wrinkles. The same shit as always. What was he supposed to do at this point besides dish the usual salt and spite?

In the end, he was still under their thumb.

Theirs and hers.

For a place called Hope’s Peak, I’m being crushed, aren’t I? Ha. Ha.

Aah, what even was the point of it all?

He could ask himself that endlessly, but regardless of what answer he came up with, it’s not like he would live any other way.

Which is why a break wouldn’t just necessary, it was downright optimal. If he continued down this path without taking any breaks, he might end up snapping and trying to strangle the fucking Class Rep or something.

Yeah, that’d be...bad.

So no hard feelings about just fucking off today. None whatsoever.

The sun was as merrily bright as ever, the sky a sickeningly vibrant blue, and Matsuda had never been happier to just fucking leave this hellhole.

But he told himself he was going to stick around for five minutes, and he actually set a timer on his phone to make extra sure.

That asshole wouldn’t even appreciate this level of dedication. Then again, his brain didn’t even have room for appreciation with all that supposed talent stuffed in.

Why am I even doing this, then?

The situation was the same with the last question.

“Gross,” he grumbled. “Am I a fucking softie deep down after all?”

Were those reserve girls right about me? Ew. Ew.

“Urgh, I need to stop thinking about it...”

He checked his timer, and then...before he really realized it, he was watching it count down.

He might not even show up.

He might not even bother.

So why should I?

Why should I—

Beep, beep, beep.

“Matsuda Yasuke-kun.”

Matsuda perked up, and, sure enough, there Kamukura stood, broody nonchalance as expected, right on the dot.

“...Could have showed up earlier, asshole.”

Unsurprisingly, Kamukura ignored that remark.

“Where did you plan on going?”

“Out,” he said. “Of here and this place. At least for a bit.”

“That is vague,” Kamukura replied. His expression didn’t change but Matsuda could just tell the guy was unimpressed.

“You’ll figure it out,” Matsuda scoffed and held out his hand. “Now, come on. Let’s hurry so that we don’t miss the train. We’re holding hands so that I don’t have to risk you wandering off, i-di-ot.”

Kamukura reached out and took his offered hand. He squeezed it once and then went limp like any doll would. Still, he followed Matsuda’s stride when Matsuda tugged him along.

And, really, wasn’t that the only thing that mattered?

I should just stop bothering with the whole thinking thing altogether.

He bought them both tickets, and he really shouldn’t have been surprised that with all the empty spaces on the train, Kamukura deemed appropriate to sit right next to him.

“You could have at least tied your fucking hair back.”

“Boring.”

“Urgh, you’re worthless at conversing.”

“False. One of my talents is Ultimate Conversationalist. I simply have no interest in exercising it.”

“...you’re worthless in general.”

No response to that. Kamukura just sat and stared at nothing as he always did.

Matsuda only sighed.

“This is your first time leaving the nest,” he said. “The least you could fucking do is fidget or something.”

“Boring.”

“Yeah that’s what I figured.” Another sigh. “Then just keep lookout, alright? I don’t want anyone who knows me to see us together. Can you do that?”

“I can.”

“...will you?”

“Boring.”

Matsuda’s eye twitched.

“...Taking that as a yes, you braindead talent gorilla. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Correct. I have Ultimate Luck as well.”

Matsuda stared into the void.

I might just be a masochist after all.

“False. You are more likely a mere sadist.”

“What the actual FUCK did I tell you about reading minds, you fucking fuckwit?!”

“Not to do it.”

“THEN DON’T DO IT?!”

“Boring.”

At this rate Matsuda was going to strangle him. And that would just go badly for everyone involved, he just knew it. Especially if it turned out he did have a sadistic streak, like Kamukura suggested.

Urgh. And Kamukura’s fucking hair was in his face. Urgh.

In the end, one of the first things he did after reaching their destination was buy a hair tie. He had to pull Kamukura’s hair back himself, and, unfortunately, he had enough experience with this kind of bullshit to actually pull it back into a pretty neat ponytail.

Gross.

“Wow, now you actually look like a human and not that fucking creepy-ass ghost bitch that apparently enters via TV,” he said, pulling away. “Too bad you’re never going to feel human. Despairing.”

Matsuda’s face twisted a bit at the taste of that last word, but, of course, Kamukura didn’t comment on it.

“...Right. Let’s keep walking.”

The city was bustling as ever, several people just walking about and minding their own business. Flashing billboards and traffic lights, cars rushing by, skyscrapers that really matched the name... It was noisy and obnoxious and he felt better already.

Kamukura stuck by closer than he had to, but Matsuda overlooked that for now.

“Let’s see,” he hummed. “What to do, what to do... Hey, Kamukura, one of your talents is Ultimate Tourist, right?”

“Yes. That said, I do not care.”

“Man,” Matsuda whistled. “You really are such a waste of science and space that it seriously pisses me off sometimes.”

But, at this point, I’m just resigned to it like I’m resigned to all the other shitty stuff in my life.

“Let’s just go around and do whatever meets my fancy,” he said. “Since you’re worthless, I’ll have to pull both our weights. I won’t hear any complaints.”

Kamukura said nothing to that. Good.

The talent gorilla could listen after all.

True to this word, they just did whatever he felt like.

The walked around for a bit to observe different buildings, and he did some shopping for new slippers and sandals. Kamukura followed him around like a dutiful dog, but remained rather quiet and largely disinterested even when Matsuda wandered around a museum to stare at various sculptures and paintings. Or when Matsuda dragged him to a rather high-end restaurant. Kamukura only seemed interested in nibbling on bread. But, when Matsuda ordered him a soup, he was more focused on ‘fixing’ it with spices than actually eating it.

It really, really was to be expected. But, at least Kamukura did eat it all. No reaction, though. At least, on his face.

“The food at Hope’s Peak is vastly superior to this. So why eat here? Is it just for the experience?”

“Of course it’s for the experience, you dumbass.”

They still got ice cream at one of the stands afterwards.

“I’m getting strawberry, and you’re getting...?”

“I don’t care.”

“Vanilla, then. Got it.”

Kamukura finished his ice cream as swiftly as the soup. Again, no reaction, and this time, not even so much as any additional commentary afterwards.

And so it went.

“There are various shows at the theatre,” Kamukura said after they passed the theatre in question. “Do you have no interest in that?”

“Do you?”

“...No, I do not.”

And went.

“This city doesn’t have much, but even here there are binoculars,” Matsuda muttered as they waited in the glass elevator, watching the city go lower and lower as they got higher and higher. “I wonder if that’s a must-have for any big city... Or something like that?”

“How boring,” Kamukura replied. “So boring.”

Matsuda snorted.

“At this rate, you might upgrade from lamp to animatronic. I guess that’s impressive in a despairing way.”

And isn’t that what the researchers want? Ultimate Hope Puppet.

Either way, Kamukura gave no further verbal comment. Matsuda sneezed.

“Urgh.”

They arrived at the highest floor. People were more scattered and there was a lot more space to walk without having to avoid brushes of accidental contact. Matsuda made a beeline for the binoculars mounted on the stalk. Kamukura followed, ever dutiful, and for a moment, Matsuda paused to look out the wide windows showcasing endless blue. There were barely any clouds in sight.

“Alright, let’s see what fuckers are jaywalking.”

“You would really waste money and time on such a worthless activity?” Kamukura asked.

Matsuda merely flashed the yen coin before slotting it in.

“Of fucking course.”

He had plenty of coins and plenty of time to kill even now, so why the hell not, right?

“Hey,” he said after a few attempts. “Try this. I want to know how many you get. My record’s fourteen.”

“How boring.”

“Fucking do it, Kamukura.”

Kamukura rolled his eyes but he did step forward, poised and ready. Matsuda entered the coin and sucked in his breath.

Kamukura only moved as fast as the binoculars would allow him but it was still pretty fast. People were even staring. This might’ve been a bad idea.

Aah, to hell with it, Matsuda decided, rubbing at his neck. It’s only for what, two minutes and a half?

“Seventy-seven.”

“Wow. What the fuck.”

“I could sense hundreds more,” Kamukura said. “But with these binoculars I could only explicitly observe seventy-seven.”

Matsuda nodded, unsurprised yet mildly impressed. Not that he’d ever show it.

“Do you think you could observe more if I slot in another coin?”

Kamukura’s eyes narrowed.

“That would be a waste of time and money.”

“I’m doing it.”

Matsuda didn’t even skip a beat and slotted in another coin.

Before he knew it, the sun was setting, and they’d definitely need to get going. Well, shit.

“Time really flies,” Matsuda sighs. “I guess it’s a matter of what you’re doing and who you’re spending your time with. Or something.”

“Time passes as it always does,” Kamukura said. “It is merely your awareness of it that shifts.”

Matsuda gave a harder, heavier sigh.

“We really should hurry back,” he said. “It’s risky for you to be gone for this long although, I’m sure you can circumvent any issues that arise.”

“I can.”

“It must be nice,” Matsuda went on. “Having no worries and no feelings whatsoever.”

Suddenly, Kamukura stopped in his tracks. Matsuda paused as well. Others continued to bustle about, the world continued turning. Matsuda, however, did not turn back.

“You got something to say?” he simply asked.

“I...” Kamukura paused. “It is not nice. It is merely nothing at all. It is boring.”

“Is that it?” Matsuda asked, turning to him with a raised brow. “You’re really disappointed about us not having time for the theatre after all, huh? It’s your fault. You took so long to eat your damn food.”

Kamukura said nothing, his lips drawn in an impassive line.

“Maybe next time,” Matsuda said. “With any luck—which I know you have—there’ll actually be something decent playing. Or something. We could also try an amusement park or something. They might have a Ferris Wheel, which would probably be better for jaywalker-spotting. That might be something.”

One of the first rides I ever went on was the Ferris Wheel because that bitch dragged me onto it.

Still, no response.

“C’mon,” Matsuda said, gesturing with his shoulder. “We got a train to catch, remember?”

He walked back and took Kamukura’s hand to pull him along.

“God, you really are so fucking hopeless.”

There wasn’t anyone else in the train car with them on the ride back. This time, at least, Kamukura sat across instead of right next to him. With the orange, dulling light, Matsuda felt his eyelids flutter. He yawned and began to slump.

“Mm... Wake me up when we’re nearing our stop... Mmgh...”

“Matsuda Yasuke-kun.”

Matsuda perked up blearily, squinting with confusion and irritation.

“...what is it?”

“Tell me,” Kamukura said. “What was your true motive for all of this? Leaving campus, insisting I go with you, dragging me along to all these mundane locations, subjecting me to unremarkable experiences... Would you truly have done all that if you were alone?”

“Aah, what’s this? The supposed savant of everything actually asking a question he doesn’t know the answer to?”

“It is not like that,” Kamukura replied, almost snappily. “I merely wish to hear your answer in your own words.”

“...does that matter to you?”

No initial response.

“Answer my initial question,” Kamukura demanded coldly.

If he were anyone else, he most certainly would have been intimidated. But, he was himself, so he didn’t really care. With a sigh, Matsuda leaned his head back and sighed.

“...seeing you sitting despondently in that empty lab, all day, every day, really seriously pissed me off. I wanted to drag you out of there if only for a little bit. But, as you know, I can’t exactly force you to do anything...”

“Why?” Kamukura asked when he started to trail off. “Do you have a personal reason as to why you had such a desire?”

...a personal reason...

Matsuda’s gaze narrowed sharply.

So that’s what this is about.

“...back when I was a kid, my mom died from sickness,” he found himself saying. “Her condition had been so bad that my dad, the fucker, had packed his bags and fucked off somewhere. When she finally died—unsurprisingly, I didn’t take it well.”

But I wonder if you already figured all that. It’s on my file.

Did Kamukura care enough to read that?

It didn’t matter.

“I didn’t leave my house for over a week. I barely left my room if I could help it. I mostly ate snacks, pissed in some bottles, spent most of my time sleeping or...lying around reading manga...” Matsuda laughed softly and dismally. “It got so despairing that even that stupid, dumb cheap bitch got worried.”

How long ago was that...? What day was it? What was even the season?

He didn’t remember. He knows that the sky must have been the same, at least.

“If that idiotic childhood friend of mine didn’t take matters into her own hands... If she hadn’t dragged me out then...and again...and again...when I otherwise would have been content to just wasting away like any other corpse...” Matsuda shook his head. “Well, even now I’m a dead man walking...all thanks to that girl. So I guess...seeing you like that... I couldn’t help but interfere.”

And Kamukura merely sighed.

“...I see,” he said. “So you had an underlying compassion after all. How boring. I predicted this.”

“Now don’t get the wrong idea,” Matsuda said, just as coolly. “It’s definitely not like I’m a good person for doing all this, y’know?”

With the harshness of the orange, the shadows looked so much darker. The world looked all the duller under such vibrancy.

“A good person wouldn’t have helped make you.”

Without even a pause.

“...I know this.”

“Good,” Matsuda huffed. “It’s best not to forget something like that. After all, my childhood friend—she is, without question, the worst person to ever live.”

“...you’ve told me as much before,” Kamukura said, quieter than usual.

With that, Matsuda let his eyes fall shut.

It was starting to get dark when they returned to the gates of Hope’s Peak Academy.

“Aah... Wow, it’s...late.”

“Yes.”

Matsuda scratched at his scalp, grumbling.

“Wow, I seriously wasted a day like that... Pretty impressive for a waste of space.” A pause. “Sorry. Two wastes of space.”

“You seem proud of yourself.”

“I’m a pretty proud waste of space,” Matsuda said. “That’s all there is to it.”

Kamukura hummed noncommittally.

“Before you go and become one with the fucking night like I’m sure you’ve always wanted to do,” he went on. “Remember what I said, alright? Don’t stay in that dinky empty lab all the damn time if you can help it. Even if I’m not there to take you somewhere, it wouldn’t hurt to just...go for a walk by yourself.”

There was a rustle from the cold late breeze. It really was quiet, save for the hooting of some owl he’s sure tamed by the creepy wannabe goth freak from the class opposite of his.

“You never know what you’ll find, even if you just stick to here,” he found himself saying. “There are all kinds of colorful characters at Hope’s Peak Academy.”

“How boring.” Kamukura’s look seemed to darken—or maybe that was just the shadows. “I could not care less for the lesser talented individuals frolicking about.”

“I figured you wouldn’t,” Matsuda sighed. “But I think it’s best to not limit the faces you see to the ugly mugs of the researchers and mine. That’ll definitely make your brain molder.” He waved his finger. “And if nothing else, blue skies and green grass are more stimulating than gray floors, gray walls, and that gray as fuck ceiling I’m sure you memorized by now.”

“I have,” Kamukura said.

Matsuda snorted. “Of course you have; so you see my point.”

“Yes,” he replied. “But I could offer an easy counter.”

“Well, don’t,” Matsuda scowled. “Instead just listen to what I have to say. Let the words fucking soak into that overstuffed brain of yours.”

Kamukura stared back, and in this increasing dark, those crimson eyes were the only source of light save for the scattered stars above.

Fucking. Creepy.

“I’m done talking,” Matsuda said. “So go...disappear off into the fucking night like a goddamn ghost. I won’t keep you waiting.”

And yet, Kamukura waited a little while longer.

“...today was not unpleasant,” he said. “When do you predict we will be able to do this again?”

Matsuda blinked.

“...Aah, what’s this?” he asked. “The supposed savant of everything actually asking a question he doesn’t know the answer to?”

“...I am not omniscient, Matsuda-kun,” Kamukura said. “You know that. You know me better than anyone or anything.”

...do I...?

Another rustling breeze.

Do I really?

...

When you put it like that, it’s almost like we’re friends or something.

Disgusting.

“...Kamukura, I...” He stopped himself, ducking his head. No... “I don’t know. Hopefully sooner rather than later, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. Good night.”

Kamukura reached up and pulled out his hair tie, shaking his head and letting his hair fall freely. He returned it quietly, and Matsuda took it back.

Of course. The researchers would question if he suddenly had a hair tie on him.

Matsuda squeezed it, and by then, Kamukura was already long gone.

It would be a cold, lonely trip back to his dorm. But it was alright.

Tomorrow would be another bright and shining day at Hope’s Peak Academy—and it would be hell as it always is.

Bright. Shining. Hopeful.

“This is an announcement from Hope’s Peak Academy’s School Trip Executive Committee! Good mooooorning, everyone, love, love! It’s another hopeful, shining, tropical day! Everyone, do your best and give it your all! Love, love!”

Hell.

“Urgh... Too early for this shit...”

Matsuda threw an arm over his eyes with a heavy sigh.

I’m in charge of collecting materials today, right? Troublesome.

Considering he tended to get partnered up with one of the aggressive athlete meatheads, he’d risk the door keeping knocked off the hinges if he took too long to show up. And then he’d have to ask that simpering neon shark-face mechanic to fix the damn thing.

For fuck’s sake... I don’t want to do that.

And so, Matsuda pushed himself up.

...But I need to keep collecting hope fragments, huh...?

“Mmm...”

I need to keep a closer eye on Komaeda out of principle... And Hinata... Well, he’s...

...also someone I feel the need to be close to...for whatever reason...

Ugh. It was way too early for a headache.

Matsuda scowled as he popped in some pills and swallowed.

“...making friends...” He sighed. “Geez, I’ve never had friends before in my life. What makes that rabbit bitch think I could possibly make friends?”

After mom died... No, even before that... I’ve never been close to anyone before...

...right?

“Ugh...” His head really was throbbing, but the medicine would kick in soon enough, and he would, rather blissfully, just stop thinking. “Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter.”

He slid his legs off the bed and stood, going straight to the window, showcasing what really was, for all intents and purposes, an island paradise.

“Another vacation day in hell,” he muttered sardonically, and yanked the curtains closed.

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