#we both agreed that we would limit our celebrations to the weekend | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

typical-simplelove · 4 years ago

Text

You All Along (J. Markstrom)

Author's Note: While celebrating 200 followers, I did a blurb weekend and wrote a blurb with the prompt: I didn't know where else to go with Jacob Markstrom. I loved the blurb so much that I decided to expand on it. This is the blurb if you haven't read it yet. It isn't embedded into the fic, but it is mentioned. Enjoy!

Warnings: cheating, broken engagements, heartache

Word Count: 11.6k

Additional Note: I didn't give a name to the ex-fiance; she is just referred to as "she", so if you see the pronoun she, then it's about the ex-fiance. Additionally, all italicized lines are in the POV of Jacob.

You and Jacob have been friends for as long as he’s been in Vancouver. You met him when you were on a night out with some friends. He was on his own and looking kind of sad. You walked over to him and introduced yourself hoping to make him happier. Instantly, he thought you were trying to sleep with him. When you told him he looked like he needed a friend, he let out a breath of relief. From there a beautiful friendship formed. You spent every single possible free moment together. As time went on, you began to develop feelings for him. Your friends looked at you the day after you realized how you felt and knew you finally realized yourself. They tried talking you into telling him how you felt. You always told them, though, that the reason your friendship blossomed was that he never had to worry about you falling in love with him. You didn’t want to lose his friendship, so you kept your feelings to yourself.

You watched Jacob date other women. At first, it was just casual dates and hookups here and there. However, when he met her, you knew it wasn’t casual. You watched Jacob fall head over heels for this woman, and she did the same. Unfortunately, you were standing on the side watching your best friend fall in love while you stood on the sidelines. For years, you watched them be all cute and lovey; you told people that you were fine and over him. You tried to be fine. Your best friend was happy, so shouldn’t you be happy, too?

A few months before Jacob got traded to Calgary, you got a new job. A new job in Calgary. You wanted to have Jacob over for dinner to tell him. He showed up at your apartment with his girlfriend in tow. You weren’t expecting her, too, but it made sense considering they were together. When you opened your door, you were met with big smiles on her and Jacob’s faces. You welcomed them, handed them a glass of wine, and immediately, she showed you her left hand. She’s engaged! You were shocked. You should have expected it considering they’ve been together for many years, but you thought Jacob would tell you.

You put a smile on your face and congratulated them. You ended up not telling them about your new job because you didn’t want to upstage them. You put a smile on your face and conducted a successful dinner party. When she and Jacob left that evening, you closed the door and broke down in tears. It was official, then. You truly had no possibility of ever being with Jacob. He was getting married, and you were in love with him.

You ended up taking the job and moving to Calgary. Jacob tried to talk you out of it, but later on, he retracted his statement. He didn’t say why, but you think that his fiance asked him to. As you began to observe the changes in their relationship, you noticed how she began to be controlling in the relationship. You wanted to say something, but you didn’t think Jacob would notice or listen to you because he was hopelessly in love with her.

When Jacob called you saying that he was being traded to Calgary, you were happy for him. In the months you were in Calgary, you felt you were over him. However, when you saw him for the first time standing on the front porch of his new house, you knew you were lying to yourself. You went home and cried. You weren’t sure how long you could pretend to be fine with the wedding and not having Jacob in the way you wanted.

You watched from the sidelines as Jacob and his fiance worked to plan the wedding of their dreams. You watched as she became a bit more controlling as each day went on. Somehow, she might have caught on to your feelings because she loved to flash her ring around. You put on a good facade that was worthy of an Oscars nomination.

You tried your hardest to put yourself out there and get over Jacob, but every date you went on, you were always comparing them to Jacob without knowing it. You did try; however, you knew that it was hopeless. Jacob was the person for you. He always would be. You felt bad stringing these men along, so you opted to stop dating for the time being until you could figure out how to coexist and co-date with the feelings you had for Jacob.

. . .

It was one week before the wedding when everything blew up in Jacob’s face. He thought they were happy; he thought she was also ready for forever. Turns out, she wasn’t. She was in the shower, and her phone was blowing up with texts and calls. He was trying to focus on a book you told him about, but her phone was bothering him, so he went to turn off the ringer. However, he paled at what he saw. What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to ignore it? Does he confront her? Thankfully, though, she walks out of the bathroom in her towel and catches Jacob holding her phone.

“What’re you doing?” she asks in a tone that was a mix of accusation and nervousness.

“I was going to turn off your ringer because it was bothering me, but turns out, you’re cheating on me,” Jacob says blatantly.

She doesn’t meet his eye, but she also doesn’t deny anything.

“So, nothing to say?”

“What was I supposed to do, Jacob? You have Yn! You both have a connection that I can never match or be a part of! You’re too close. I was feeling sad and angry, and I needed someone.”

“So you went to someone else?” Jacob angrily says. “We’re getting married. You’re supposed to tell me when you have issues or problems like this.”

“You don’t think I tried?”

“If you tried then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. If you told me how you felt, then I’d have tried to limit my time with Yn and focus on you. Like it or not, you and I agreed on forever. Yn and I won’t always be forever. At one point, she’ll get married. You have to tell me these things!”

She scoffs at Jacob. “It doesn’t matter if she might be getting married one day because she probably won’t.”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“You’re both too close! The connection you have is ridiculous to ever get between. It’s like you both are together, and I’m standing on the sidelines. Jacob, I tried to slowly take her out of your life, but she’s always there.”

“What do you mean you tried to take her out of my life?” Jacob is getting angry now. You were his best friend, so anyone who said anything bad about you was automatically bad news to him.

“I can’t marry you if she’s in your life. I tried to limit her interactions with you as much as possible, but still, you found a way for her to be in your life regardless of what I wanted.”

“I didn’t know that you felt this way because you didn’t tell me! If you felt this way, why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought she’d back off knowing she can’t have you because I’m with you, but she was still there.”

“What do you mean back off?”

“You mean to tell me that you don’t know that Yn has feelings for you? She’s head over heels for you, and you don’t know?”

“No, you’re wrong,” Jacob denies. There’s no way, right?

“No, I’m right. She has feelings for you, and I think deep down, so do you. Every time she calls you saying she needs you, you’re always right there at her beck and call. Do you know the number of times that you’ve changed our plans to be there for her? You’re supposed to be canceling plans with her for me, not vice versa. Jacob, I tried to take her out of your life, but she’s always there because you refuse to let her leave.”

“Why would I want my best friend to leave? Also, I think we’re missing the fact that you cheated on me!”

“Like you never cheated on me with Yn.”

“I never did,” Jacob retorts, and she just scoffs in response. “You know why? Because I’m in love with you! I’m marrying you, not Yn!”

“You still want to marry me?” she asks softly.

Jacob doesn’t answer. Does he want to marry her anymore? She cheated and admitted to trying to control his life by taking you out.

“You have two options,” she says. “You pick me, and we get married. I’ll end whatever relationship I have with him, but you don’t get Yn in your life. You don’t get to talk to her, call her, or do anything with her. You stop talking to her cold turkey. Or, you leave me.”

“What? Why would you do that to me?”

“I can’t compete with Yn to be the number one woman in your life.”

“There is no competition because you are the number one woman in my life.”

She scoffs. “As much as I want to believe that, it’s not true.”

Jacob goes silent. She’s not wrong though. Even though she was number one in his life, you were close behind. He could always count on her, but he knew you’d be there no matter what for him. You’d never make him choose. “I’m not picking because there’s no reason to. Yn doesn’t have feelings for me.”

“Answer this, then. In the seven years that you’ve known Yn, has she ever had a relationship that lasted longer than six months?”

Jacob ponders the question briefly. No, you haven’t had any relationships that have lasted longer than six months. He never thought anything of it, though. You always told him that the person wasn’t what you wanted, or you didn’t like him like that. He never thought it had anything to do with him. It didn’t, he thought to himself. You don’t have feelings for him. “Why are you trying so hard to prove this point when it’s not right?”

“So, no, right? Jacob, why can’t you see it? She’s in love with you, and whether or not you realize it, you’re in love with her, too. Deep down, it was always her. It always will be.”

“I’m not picking you or Yn because there is no choice to be made. I love you and want to marry you. If you still want that, then I can find a way to get past the infidelity and everything said here.”

“I can’t. I can’t be with you anymore. I can’t be with you knowing that you know she loves you, and you refuse to do anything about it. I’m not marrying you. I can’t marry you. She’ll always be first in your heart, and I can’t compete with that.”

Jacob nods. “I understand. You can have the house; I’ll sell my rights to you.”

“No, you take the house. You have roots in Calgary; I don’t.”

“Okay, you can stay here for the next few weeks until you figure things out and move out.”

“Where will you go?” she asks.

Jacob shrugs. “I’m not sure.” In reality, though, he knows where he’s going. He’s going to you because he knows he can always count on you.

“That’s bullshit. You’re going to Yn.”

“Goodbye,” Jacob says as he walks out the door with only his wallet, phone, and keys in tow.

. . .

It was one week before Jacob’s wedding when you felt you finally figured it out. You figured out how to ignore the nagging thoughts that the person you were on a date with wasn’t Jacob. You finally figured it out. Sure, maybe it was partially because you haven’t seen him in a month. After all, he was busy, but still, progress is progress.

You had it figured out until Jacob knocked on your door at three in the morning. He knocks telling you he had nowhere else to go. You let him in, and he tells you that she cancelled the wedding. They aren’t getting married next week. Jacob begins rambling on, but you tell him just to ignore it all right now. Take the night to relax and try to calm down. You’ll both deal with the after-effects of the wedding being cancelled in the morning. You lead Jacob into your bedroom to sleep. He insisted on sleeping on the couch, but you both knew that he was way too big for it. You fell asleep that night with Jacob holding you as you fell asleep. You sighed in content. This was the way it was supposed to be.

. . .

As you quickly fell asleep, Jacob couldn’t sleep. He lied to you. He told you that the reason he and his fiance ended the engagement was because of his travel. He thinks you would have called out his lie knowing that she and Jacob have been together for five years. One would think that after being together for five years, the travel wouldn’t be a deal-breaker anymore. How was Jacob supposed to tell you that the reason he isn’t getting married anymore was because of you? How was he supposed to tell you that you were the reason he was in your bed? How was he supposed to wrap his mind around the fact that you might have feelings for him?

His thoughts were immediately halted when you shift around in the bed slightly and lean closer into Jacob. A wide smile crosses his face. Suddenly, though, one thought is coursing through his mind: was she right? Did you have feelings for him? Why did Jacob feel like all his worries slipped away when he walked into your apartment? Why did Jacob feel so much more comfortable holding you than he ever did holding her? Why did he feel more comfortable in your home than he did his own with her? Why did he love the smell of your perfume more than he did hers? Why did he love the feel of you against his body more than he ever did hers? Why wasn’t he more upset about his broken engagement? Why wasn’t he more worried about what would happen in the morning? Did he waste his time with her when you were always there?

. . .

Jacob woke up to an empty bed the next morning. Momentarily, he forgot about the broken engagement. He remembered the events the previous night, though, when he turns over and is met with your cream sheets instead of his grey sheets. He gets out of your bed and walks into the kitchen where you’re sitting there with a bowl of cereal. You left an empty bowl for him sitting there in the event you wanted some. He poured a bowl of cereal and sat next to you.

“Morning,” he says to you.

You nod. “Your mom called me.”

“Why did my mom call you?”

You just look at him with a peculiar, knowing look in your eyes.

“Oh, broken engagement, right.”

“Care to tell me why the engagement is broken?” you ask. He looks at you. He didn’t want to. The same thought went through his head. How is he supposed to tell you that you were the reason the engagement was broken?

“She couldn’t take the travel anymore,” he lies.

You nod. “Okay.”

Jacob knows that you know he lied. He’s grateful, though, that you didn’t call him out on it. He isn’t sure what he’d do if you called him out on it.

He was lying. You knew he was lying, and you weren’t sure why. He told you when he woke you up that it was the distance. You let that lie go knowing that he was probably going through a lot. However, when Jacob’s mom called you that morning saying she heard about the broken engagement, she wanted your opinion. You aren’t sure what Jacob’s ex-fiance told her, but she didn’t tell Jacob’s mom what Jacob told you. Jacob’s mom didn’t believe you when you told her it was the travel, but you were grateful that she didn’t call you out on your lie. What were you supposed to say? Jacob wasn’t telling you what happened, and you weren’t going to press him for any information he didn’t want to give you.

When you told him that his mother called, you knew he was shocked. “I know you wanted to be the one to tell your mother, but you didn’t get the chance to. You should call her back.”

Jacob nods. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

“Just out of curiosity, how long do you think it will take for her to move out of the house?”

“Already want me gone?” Jacob teases and flashes you his signature grin that makes your heart skip a beat.

“No, no, I’m just asking.”

“I know, I’m only teasing. I told her to take as much time as she needed, but I can go and stay with Elias or go to a hotel.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you reply. “You can stay with me. I don’t have a spare bedroom, but you can take my bed, and I’ll take the couch.”

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t want to take you out of your bed.”

“I mean, unless you don’t mind sharing a bed with me then it’s fine then,” you know that sharing a bed with Jacob for a few weeks will make your feelings skyrocket through the roof. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to get over him.

“That’s perfectly fine with me.”

You nod. “You should call your mom.”

Jacob nods and picks up his phone to call his mom. You could get through a few weeks without breaking your facade right?

. . .

“I don’t believe you, Jacob,” Jacob’s mother tells him.

“What do you mean you don’t believe me?” Jacob asks exasperated. He was hoping his mother wouldn’t call him out on the lie he was telling.

“I don’t believe you because it doesn’t seem likely that distance would be an issue in a five-year relationship. Also, she didn’t tell me distance.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me you both grew apart. Is that true? Jacob, I’ll know when you’re lying to me, and so will Yn, so don’t lie to her either.”

“I have to lie to her,” Jacob blurts out. Shit, he shouldn’t have said that.

“What happened?”

Jacob looks out of the door to where you’re still sitting at the kitchen counter from where he’s sitting on your bed. He walks over off your bed and closes the door. He doesn’t want you hearing this part of the conversation.

“This conversation stays between us, okay?”

“Yes, yes, you’re making me worried.”

“Yeah, well. Okay, so, where do I begin? I was reading a book last night, and her phone was going off like crazy, so I went to turn off the ringer. Her screen was already lit up, and she was getting texts from this guy about when they’d be able to see each other in private again. She was cheating on me. She found me holding her phone, and I confronted her. She was saying how she would always feel second to Yn in my life even though she was always number one. Yn was not at all close to being number one in my life.”

“Jacob, I told you to stop lying to me.”

“Mom, I didn’t lie to you,” Jacob says trying to feign innocence. Wow, his mother was good at calling him out.

“Yes, you did, and you know exactly what you lied about.”

“Fine, Yn is a close second, but my fiance was still number one. She began saying how Yn and I were too close, and she felt like she couldn’t compete. She didn’t have to compete because there was nothing to compete for. She began talking about how Yn had feelings for me, and I deep down have feelings for Yn. I don’t, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She gave me an ultimatum and told me either we got married and Yn was out of my life or no wedding. I couldn’t pick because why would I? Everything she was saying was ridiculous, and Yn and I are just friends. Sure, we’re close, but there’s nothing more than that.”

“She picked for you, then?”

“Yeah,” Jacob says sadly.

“How are you doing with everything?”

“I’m fine, surprisingly,” Jacob answers. “This isn’t me trying to get you off my back. I’m fine. I don’t feel any heartbreak or anything.”

“If you’re doing good then, that’s good. Do you think you know why that is?”

Jacob doesn’t miss a beat with his response. “Because I have Yn.”

Jacob’s mother doesn’t say anything knowing that Jacob is going to realize in just a few moments the impact of his words, hopefully.

“No, that came out wrong,” Jacob rushes out quickly. “That’s not me saying because I love love her. It’s because I know I can count on her, and she can count on me.”

“Look, I’m not going to tell you what I think, but let me just leave you with this,” Jacob’s mother continues. “She has strong feelings for you. This is me asking you to be gentle with her heart. She’s been through a lot as your best friend, so please be gentle with her. ”

“Mom, she doesn’t —”

“Don’t argue with me about how Yn doesn’t feel that way to you, Jacob, okay? Be gentle with her because, whether or not you know it, you’ve caused her lots of heartache and heartbreak over the years, and the fact that she’s still in your life is monumental. Just open your eyes and look while you stay with her, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Jacob says. He and his mother say goodbye. Jacob puts his phone down as he hangs up. He stares at the pictures sitting on your dresser. He looks at you smiling with your young nieces and nephews. His smile widens, and his heart warms looking at your smile. Is it possible that you have feelings for him? If so, is it true that he’s caused heartbreak in your life? He walks out of your bedroom and into the kitchen where you’re still sitting.

“Good talk with you mom?” you ask.

Jacob nods. Suddenly, he isn’t sure what to say to you. He, for the first time, is seeing you. Despite your hair being a bit messy because you woke up a few hours earlier, it’s still beautiful. He, for the first time, is seeing the way your hair perfectly frames your face and how it accentuates your facial features. For the first time, he’s noticing the glimmer and shine in your eyes. He’s noticing the way your voice is laced with kindness despite him waking you at three in the morning.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

“Yeah, why?” he asks, and he immediately blushes.

“You’re just acting weird,” you reply with a teasing smile. Jacob’s heart begins hammering in his chest. He’s looking at you and noticing your smile. How collected and beautiful your smile is. Jacob’s always known you were a beautiful woman. He’s told you on numerous occasions how stunning and beautiful you are. For the first time, though, he’s realizing how wrong that is, how much of an understatement beautiful is. You’re drop-dead gorgeous.

“You’re acting weird,” Jacob says mimicking your voice that brings out a giggle from you. Jacob looks at you, and his heart is beating much faster than before.

“You sure you’re okay?” you ask again and walk over to him. You place your hand on his forehead pretending you’re taking his temperature, and Jacob’s breath hitches in his throat. Did you notice? “Maybe you have a fever.”

“I’m fine, I promise,” Jacob whispers.

“Yeah, including everything that has happened?”

Jacob nods. He should probably stay at a hotel, right? He can barely get a single coherent thought, so why does he think he can live with you for a few weeks?

“Okay, well, I’m here if you want to talk,” you answer, taking your hand off of Jacob’s forehead. “I’m going to go get changed and ready for the day, okay? Maybe you should call or text her to talk about getting some of your stuff for basic survival.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Jacob answers. As you’re walking away, he calls out to you. “Hey, yn?”

You turn around and quirk your eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

You scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion. Jacob’s seen that expression before, but for the first time, he’s noticing how cute it is. “What for?”

He shrugs. How is he supposed to tell you he’s sorry for causing you pain and heartache that you’ve never voiced to him before? How is he supposed to apologize for a pain in you that you’ve hidden from him for so long? How is he supposed to continue knowing he’s hurt you so much before, but he’s never noticed? “Nothing in particular, just saying sorry.”

You nod in confusion. “Um, okay. Apology accepted I guess?”

Jacob thinks that if you knew what he was truly apologizing for, you wouldn’t forgive him.

. . .

He was apologizing. What was he apologizing for? What did he have to apologize for? He’s never caused you any hurt or sadness that would require him to apologize for. Actually, that’s not entirely true. Sure, he’s hurt you before, but it was because he fell in love with another woman. He didn’t know the hurt and heartbreak it caused, so he wouldn’t ever need to apologize for it.

You continue to get ready for the day and try to figure out why Jacob apologized and his weird mannerisms today. Normally, Jacob can meet your eye today and get clear, coherent sentences out. However, today, he couldn’t do that. He was giving you short, terse responses and nodding instead of talking.

“Jacob, do you know who’s going to be in charge of canceling everything?” you ask Jacob when you walk out of your bedroom.

He shrugs from where he’s sitting on your couch. “I’m not sure. Maybe I should ask.”

You sit next to him. “Whatever happens, just know, I’m here to help you, okay?”

Jacob nods and a weird look flashes across his face. Did you say something wrong? For the first time in your long friendship with Jacob, you’re second-guessing your words.

“You okay?” you cautiously ask.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?” Jacob deflects hurriedly.

“You’ve just been acting weird recently which is understandable considering circumstances, but you’re being weird with me which is weird.”

Jacob looks at you, and you try to read his mind and what he’s thinking. It doesn’t work; you weren’t able to.

“Jacob?”

He looks at you with a soft eye. “Yn?”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, well, make sure you talk to her, so we can start canceling stuff and telling people that there isn’t a wedding this weekend.”

Jacob nods. He watched you get up from the couch and move to the kitchen table to get some work done. He knows you’re catching on to his weird behavior. For the first time, Jacob is befuddled and confused about how to act around you. He has no idea what to do, and he doesn’t like this feeling. You’re his best friend, so it shouldn’t be this hard for him to know how to act around you. Your smile, your concern, your soft facial expressions, your caring heart, all of it is overwhelming to Jacob. It’s always been there, and he’s always been on the other side of your kindness and caring nature and smile, but for the first time in forever, Jacob views it differently — a good difference. He’s going to have to figure out a way to push his conflicting feelings and views to the side if he’s going to be staying with you. He’s going to have to figure out how to act normally around you because he’s going to be staying with you. He’s going to be in your house, your home, your kitchen, your bed. He’s going to be living in your life, and he can’t put more on you than you can take. He now knows he’s hurt you before, and he has to find a way to make up for it.

. . .

For the week on what would have been the week of Jacob’s wedding, you and Jacob work to cancel it. He makes the calls to all his family, friends, and the wedding party. You were in charge of calling all the vendors and the venue. You sat next to Jacob the entire time he made the calls to his family. Much of it wasn’t in English, but you could see the sadness in his eyes. He thought he was starting his forever, but instead, it was crumbling at his feet.

During a particular call to his grandmother, you could see the tears starting to form in his eyes. You wanted to hug him and hold him, but he walked into your bedroom for privacy. You understood why, but you wanted to be there for him in every way possible. He walked out of your bedroom with his eyes puffy. You put your glass down and walk over to him. You wrap him in a hug and hold him as you feel his tears through your shirt. You stroke his back and comfort him as he finally lets all the emotions out. He lets all the emotions that he’s been keeping in for days finally out.

Jacob lifts his head off your shoulder, and you look up at him. You move your hands to his face and wipe the tears off his face. “Hey, it’ll be okay.”

Jacob nods. “How can you be so sure?”

“I don’t know, but I just do. Is that enough?”

“I think so.”

Jacob was a mess. He was sad and angry and upset. He wasn’t upset at her per se. He was more upset at himself. He was upset at himself for not seeing the signs of the relationship falling apart. He was upset that she cheated on him. He was upset that she put the duty of cancelling the wedding on him, not choosing to do anything. Mostly, though, he was upset that he’s been hurting you in the past years. He’s upset at himself for not seeing what he was doing to you and what she was doing to him. He’s angry and confused at himself for not seeing you for who you truly were. He’s confused. He doesn’t know much of anything anymore. He just wants to be okay and feel happy again. Despite all these confusing, angry feelings, Jacob takes one look at you, and he knows he’ll be okay because you always made him feel better. Even though he wasn’t sure the extent of your relationship with him anymore, Jacob knows that he can count on you and vice versa.

On what would have been Jacob’s wedding night, you ask him about his living situation. “Any news on when you’re getting the house back?”

“Already want to get rid of me?” Jacob teases. Was his voice teasing? Was it too accusatory? Is he coming off as teasing?

When you smile at his words, he knows that you knew he was teasing. “No, no, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just asking because my apartment is small, so I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or too cramped here.”

“Don’t worry, yn,” Jacob reassures. Was he talking normally? He wasn’t sure. His heartbeat was so loud in his ears that it was hard to know if he sounded normal. “Wherever you are, I’ll always be comfortable.”

You smile at him and return to the book you were reading. That was not normal at all. Has Jacob ever said those words to you? Maybe he should have told you that sooner because he always did feel comfortable wherever you were. Come to think of it, Jacob’s always felt more comfortable around you than he ever did her. He always felt more at ease and more at home whenever you were around. She never had that effect on him. Jacob always had to be on his toes around her making sure he doesn’t say or do anything wrong. Why did he always feel more comfortable with you?

“Don’t worry, I’ll get out of your hair in a few days if she doesn’t give me a plan or anything,” Jacob says.

“No, don’t do that,” you rush out quickly. Jacob knows you well enough to know that you’re flustered. He knows that you’re regretting getting that out so quickly. Despite all the changes that Jacob feels like your friendship is going through, the bottom line is he knows that you haven’t changed. You’re still the smart, beautiful, compassionate, caring person you always were. That’s not changing.

Jacob throws a deep chuckle your way.

“Stay as long as you need, Jacob,” you tell him with a shy smile. Upon seeing your smile, Jacob’s heart races. His stomach erupts in butterflies. Where were these feelings coming from? He’s known you for so long, so why is he just starting to develop romantic feelings for you? Were these romantic feelings? Was that what this is? Was he falling for you romantically?

“Thank you, Yn,” he whispers. You make him blush, flustered, and go crazy. Jacob doesn’t know much about what’s happening in his life, but he knows that as long as he has you, everything will be okay. You make his heart flutter and butterflies erupt whenever you breathe around him. Did Jacob always have these feelings for you? Did he ignore these feelings because he just wanted a friendship with you? Sure, at first that was all he wanted because he wasn’t looking for a relationship. Did he always feel this way? Were the feelings finally coming out because he wasn’t preoccupied with anyone else?

The following Monday, Jacob ventures out to practice for the first time. The coaches and the team gave Jacob a week to sort everything out and figure out his life. He was a bit rusty, but it felt great to get back on the ice. He noticed the pitying glances his teammates gave him, but when Jacob glared at them, they knew to stop.

“Marky? Do you mind staying behind for a moment?” Mark asks. “Just want to talk.”

Jacob nods. He knew this was coming for him; he knew he was going to get a talk from his captain.

“How are you doing?” Mark asks after everyone leaves.

“Um, I think I’m okay?” Jacob answers.

Mark nods. “That’s understandable. So, no sadness or anger or disappointment?”

“I — I, I don’t know how to answer that.”

Mark gives Jacob a weird look, and Jacob tries to put the thoughts into words.

“I’m angry at her for cheating on me and trying to control my life. I’m upset because I was planning this life with her, and she was one step in and one step out. I’m disappointed because I should have seen it. I’m upset and disappointed with myself because my mom told me that I’ve broken Yn’s heart before, and I didn’t notice.”

“Woah, slow down. One woman at a time. I understand all the stuff about her, but Yn? What does she have to do with this?”

“I’m staying with Yn right now until my house is free of my ex. My mom called me and told me to be gentle with Yn’s heart. I questioned her about it, and she was talking about how Yn loves me but romantically. She was telling me to be gentle with Yn’s heart because through my actions I’ve hurt her and shattered her heart. I mean, how have I never seen it? She’s my best friend, so shouldn’t I be able to see when I’m hurting her?”

“She’s good at hiding how she feels,” Mark answers.

“You knew?”

“How she feels about you, or how you’ve unknowingly hurt her before?”

“Both, I guess,” Jacob prompts.

“Yes, to both then.”

“So, you know how she might feel?”

“It’s obvious how she feels,” Mark says.

“How could I not have seen it? How could I have not seen how I’ve hurt her?”

“Don’t beat yourself up, okay? As I said, she’s good at hiding it. It took me a while to notice her feelings for you. She didn’t let you know or see how she felt because she wanted you to be happy. She let her feelings stay hidden, so you could be happy. If you were happy, then she was happy.”

Jacob nods. “I just, I don’t know.”

“I think the question that you should be asking yourself is why you care so much about this. I understand being upset that you didn’t know you’ve broken her in the past, but why is this on the front of your mind even though you just had an ended engagement?”

Jacob ponders the question momentarily. “I think I’m in love with her? I think I always was, but I didn’t let myself feel those feelings. I always did feel more comfortable with Yn than I ever did with my fiance, ex-fiance. I always felt more at home with Yn than I did with her. I think I’ve always had romantic feelings for her, but I didn’t let them out.”

Mark just stares agape at his teammate. He thought he was going to have to nurse this information out of Jacob. He wasn’t expecting Jacob to have gotten to this conclusion on his own.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Jacob says sadly.

“I agree with what your mom said about being gentle with Yn’s heart. She deserves that at least. You shouldn’t say anything without knowing for sure because she deserves that at least. Just act normally around her until you’re ready to say something.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know how to be normal around her!” Jacob says exasperated. “I’m overthinking everything, and I no longer know how to act around her. I don’t know if the way I’m talking is weird or normal; I just don’t know.”

“Okay, okay, calm down. Breathe,” Mark interjects. “Try to stay calm. Sure, it might be difficult and hard to act around Yn, but try. That’s all I can say.”

Jacob nods. He goes back to your apartment after practice running through all the words Mark said. He’s thinking through them. He’s right; you deserve Jacob to gentle with your heart. You deserve the world, but Jacob isn’t sure if he can give you the world. He wants more than anything to be able to know exactly how he feels, but he can’t help but feel like he’s self-sabotaging the entire friendship with his overthinking. If he doesn’t figure out how he feels, Jacob fears your friendship might be doomed.

. . .

It’s been one month since Jacob showed up at your door telling you about his broken engagement. In that one month, you hoped to find little things about Jacob you never knew before and turn them into reasons for you not to love him. You tried, but you couldn’t because he was perfect. Jacob was the perfect house guest, and you hated it. Instead of finding reasons to fall out of love, you found reasons to fall more in love with your best friend. Jacob always made sure that his dirty laundry was in the basket, or his wet towel after showering was always hanging up to dry. He never left a mess in the washroom after using it, and he always cleaned the shaving clippings off the washroom counter. If you made dinner, then Jacob insisted that you relax, and he does the dishes. Even if he cooked, Jacob still did the dishes because that’s the kind of person he was. You tried not to let the domestic vibes of the situation get to your head, but it was hard. It was hard not to pretend that you and Jacob weren’t a married couple. It was hard to pretend that this isn’t permanent. It was plain hard to be around Jacob at all without your heart thumping in your chest. You’ve been good in the past years hiding how you felt, but in the one month Jacob was living with you, it all went berserk. You were overthinking and overanalyzing everything. You only hoped that Jacob didn’t notice.

On a random morning, while you were eating breakfast before going to work, Jacob prompts, “She called me and told me she wants to talk.”

You lookup. “Okay?”

“What’s your opinion on it?”

“None? I mean, you guys need to talk and sort stuff out.”

“Like?” Jacob questions. You have a feeling he knows what you’re talking about but chooses to ignore it.

“Your living situation? Who’s going to pay all the final fees for the cancellations of the wedding? Returning all your wedding and engagement gifts? Stuff like that. Also, I think it’ll be a good way to gain closure, too.”

Jacob nods with a forlorn look in his eyes. “Yeah, closure.”

The topic is immediately dropped, and you both continue in awkward silence.

You hoped Jacob was able to talk to her and sort everything out that he needed to.

. . .

Jacob met her on neutral territory — a coffee shop. Jacob got there ten minutes early hoping his nerves would die down by the time she arrived. They didn’t. She arrived, and Jacob’s heart continued to beat out of his chest. He isn’t sure why. Despite concluding that he’s always loved you, he knows that he loved her, too. Despite harboring feelings for you, he still loved her.

“Hey,” Jacob says when she sits down.

“Hi,” she says back. She and Jacob both stare at each other. Were they supposed to jump right into things or engage in small talk first? “Should we just get to the point?”

“Yeah, I think that’s best.”

“Okay, um, I changed my mind, and I want the house.”

“What?” Jacob asks, shocked.

“I want the house because despite it also being your home, I was the one who did most of the decorating and stuff like that because you were on the road. I’m not blaming you for not doing any of it. I just think it’s fairer if you let me keep the house. I’ll buy your half from you and everything. I just want the house.”

Jacob looks at her, so he’s supposed to find a new place to live in now? Should he find a temporary living place, so he doesn’t have to stay with you? “Okay, that’s fine. I guess just give me a date that works for you, and we’ll head to the bank to sort all the stuff out, and I can move my stuff out.”

“I might have destroyed some of it out of anger, but okay.”

Jacob laughs. “Hate me that much?”

“It’s not you that I hate,” she replies calmly but also coldly.

“Who do you hate then?” Jacob asks, confused.

“Really? You don’t know? Maybe I should remind you of the argument we had when you left. Also, where are you staying? I called Elias a while back asking if you need any of your stuff, but he said you were staying somewhere else.”

Jacob doesn’t answer, and instead, he opts to stare at his mug. She takes his silence as a sign as to where Jacob’s staying.

“Oh my goodness, you’re staying with Yn,” she says angrily. “Did you buy her a bigger apartment, or are you staying in her tiny apartment? If you’re staying in her apartment, then that means either you’re sleeping in her bed and she’s on the couch, or you’re sleeping in her bed.”

Jacob doesn’t look up or meet her eyes.

“No, you’re sleeping in her bed. Of course, you are. You ran right to her, didn’t you? Have you slept with her yet? Have you completely forgotten about us? Me? Was I just a placeholder until that bitch finally came clean about what she felt.”

“Hey! Don’t call her that,” Jacob condemns. “Sure, yes, we’re sharing a bed, but I didn’t think I would have to find a new place to live. I thought it was only temporary. And yes, I ran right to her because she’s my best friend. Who else was I supposed to go to when my future wife cheats on me and ends our engagement?”

“Have you slept with her?” she whispers. She doesn’t know if she wants the answer, but she still needs to ask.

“No, I haven’t slept with her.”

“But you want to.”

Jacob snaps his head up. He doesn’t want to sleep with you. That thought has never crossed his mind. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I think that you’ve finally realized that you’ve always loved her. I think that you realized that she loves you and would do anything for you. I think you’ve realized that you wasted your time on me.”

“That’s only partially true. I think I’ve finally realized that I’ve always loved her, and I think I’ve realized that she loves me, too. However, I don’t think I’ve wasted my time with you. Despite it all, I did love you at one point, and I wouldn’t throw away our relationship.”

“Did? When did you stop?”

“When I found out you cheated on me.”

“So, you’ve loved me our entire relationship?” she asks with worry in her eyes.

He nods. “Yeah, and there will always be a part of me that will always love you. Do you still love me?”

Now, it’s her turn not to answer and just stare at her mug. Jacob doesn’t want to pry for any information. “I stopped loving you a while ago. I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Why didn’t you break up with me then?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re a great person, so I thought I could fall back in love with you, but then I started noticing the way Yn looked at you and how she acted. I began watching your patterns around her, and I realized that it didn’t matter if I loved you or not. I realized that even if you loved me, you’d always love her more. So, I cheated on you to find a love that I craved.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry you felt the need to go to another place for the love I couldn’t give you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t love you in the way you wanted,” Jacob apologizes.

“I’m sorry for the hurt I put you through. For what it’s worth, though, I wouldn’t undo our relationship. I think that if I were to redo it, we wouldn’t have gotten this far. We wouldn’t have gotten to an engagement. Deep down, I think we both know that our relationship began to fall apart shortly before you proposed.”

Jacob thinks about it for a moment. Yeah, she was right. “Yeah, you’re right. Doesn’t mean, though, that I didn’t love you.”

“Yeah, same here.”

“If I may ask,” Jacob begins. “Are you with him? I mean, the guy you cheated on me with.”

“Um, yeah, we’re together. He’s been staying with me and stuff, but yes, we’re together.”

Jacob nods.

“Are you mad?”

“No, I’m not,” Jacob says. He wasn’t. He’s moved on from her, and now, he just wants her to be happy.

“Look, Jacob, I’m going to be honest with you, okay? Yn? She’s the one for you. Don’t waste your time staying in your head thinking about whether or not Yn feels the same. She’s loved you for too long. She deserves you to be honest with her, okay? Just tell her how you feel.”

“Okay,” he says. They ended up talking for another hour sorting out things and catching up. Despite breaking up, they both knew that the other would be there if needed. Jacob went back to your apartment with the closure he needed to move on. Now, he needed to figure out how to tell you how much he loved you.

. . .

Jacob moved out into a new home two months later. In those two months, you helped Jacob in any way you could. You helped him pack up his house and move into a storage unit. You helped him look for a new place to live and helped him move in. The first night in almost three months you spent alone, it felt weird. It felt weird to eat dinner alone even though there were some nights you ate alone anyway because he was at a game or on the road. It felt weird to go to sleep in an empty bed, and it felt weird to wake up to cold sheets. It was weird, and you hated it. You missed Jacob, and you wanted him to continue living with you. However, you wouldn’t give up the time you had with Jacob. It was some of the best three months of your friendship, and you’d do anything to go back to it.

Despite spending all that time together, you still didn’t know the real reason why Jacob ended his engagement. You wanted to know what was the reason because you could tell it was eating him up. Jacob has cried and gotten emotional a few times, but you knew he wasn’t fully healed. You knew there was still something eating him up, and you wanted nothing more than to know how to fix what was going on.

Six months after the broken engagement, the Flames season came to a saddening end. Jacob opted to have the Year-End Team Barbeque at his new house. When he approached the idea with you, you told him it was a great idea. It was great that he was moving on and continuing on with his life. He told you he wanted you there. You tried interjecting saying that you weren’t part of the team; however, he countered by saying that families were also invited. When you tried to argue you weren’t family, Jacob gave you a look that made your heart beat faster and told you he expected you to be at his house on the date of the barbeque.

You showed up at his doorstep with a plate of lemon squares and a bag full of nervousness. You weren’t sure why you were particularly nervous today. It was Jacob. Jacob. Your best friend. You shouldn’t have any reason to be nervous. None at all. So, why were you suddenly nervous?

You knocked on the door, and Jacob opened it. “You don’t have to knock, you know.”

You smile. “Yeah, sure, whatever. I made lemon squares.”

He takes them out of your hand and ushers you inside. You take off your shoes, and Jacob places the plate on the bench. He wraps you in a giant hug filled with the warmth and love that you missed from him. Despite him not living with you for quite some time, you still missed him and his warmth. You missed going to sleep next to him and waking up next to him. You missed having a cuddle buddy while you were sitting on your couch reading or watching TV. Mostly, though, you missed him. “Hi,” you whisper shyly. You aren’t sure why you’re so shy all of a sudden.

“Hi,” he whispers back just as shy. You both miss the knowing and curious looks Jacob’s teammates give you. How could you? You were both absorbed in each other so much that the entire world slipped away. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” you whisper into his chest. You aren’t sure if your words are audible because they’re muffled by his shirt. “Anywhere you want me to be, I’ll be there.”

Jacob pulls away and looks down at you. You meet his eyes and notice his look. He looks like he’s contemplating something serious. You can tell the inner monologue and gears in his head are spinning like crazy. What was he thinking? You wanted so badly to know what was going on in his head. Jacob must have decided whatever he was thinking was not important or against it because he shakes his head to himself and takes your hand. He leads you into the kitchen where everyone is with one hand in yours and the other holding the plate of lemon squares you made.

“Get yourself a drink and mingle, I’ll be out on the patio grilling. Come to me if you need anything, okay?” Jacob whispers into your ear. It sends shivers down your spine.

“Okay,” you whisper and head to join the other women. You’re going to need some alcohol in you to get through the day if Jacob was going to keep sending your senses into a spiral.

Jacob isn’t sure what he’s doing, but he knows it’s risky. He knows that one wrong, intimate move or action could tell you what he’s been trying to tell you for months now. When Jacob finally moved into his new home, everything clicked in his mind. Despite designing it exactly how he wanted, it didn’t feel like home. That is, it didn’t feel like home unless you were there visiting. You came two or three times a week when Jacob wasn’t on the road for dinner. Sometimes you brought takeout or you both cooked. It didn’t matter what you were both doing, though, because as long as you were next to him in his house, it felt like home.

It took him three days of living on his own for the first time in a long time to realize how he truly feels for you. It took him three days to know you were the one. It took him three days to know he loved you. Loves you. When he finally realized, Jacob stopped what he was doing. He was cooking dinner. He was making your favorite meal that he’s learned to love and to cook while he was staying with you. After him asking many, many times for you to teach him, you relented and taught him. Jacob had to turn off the stove and sit with it for a moment. He loved you? He loved you. He loves you? He loves you. He will always love you? He will always love you. He loves you, and he can’t take you not knowing anymore. He doesn’t want to rush into another relationship right away, but he also wants you by his side forever.

Jacob didn’t bring you to many team events while he was with her. Before her, he brought you to a few events with the Canucks, but you haven’t gone to many events in Calgary. You met the team and the WAGs, and Jacob thinks you’ve made some great friends amongst them all. Now, though, Jacob never wants to go to a team event where you’re not there. He wants to go to a team event, see you dressed so beautifully, and be his date. Jacob just wants you to be part of every aspect of his life.

“What’re you thinking about?” Mark asks Jacob out of nowhere. Jacob was standing at his grill making food; he was watching you play in the backyard with some of the children. Mark looks to where Jacob’s staring and knows instantly. “Ah, I see. So, did you tell her how you feel? Actually, how do you feel? That should be the first questioning.”

“I haven’t told her how I feel, but I love her,” Jacob answers and a giant smile graces his facial features. A smile that reaches his eyes and shows every smile line. A smile that he only got from talking about you.

“When will you tell her?”

“I don’t know.”

“I mean, be careful because the way you greeted her? That screamed, ‘I’m in love with you,’” Mark tells him.

“It did not!”

“It did, but if it makes you feel better, her actions did the same. She loves you, too.”

Jacob nods. “I’ll tell her soon because I don’t think I can go another day as just her friend."

"You've never been just yn's friend," Mark says.

As everyone gathered around the table in Jacob’s backyard for dinner, you were seated right next to him. As the meal went on, Jacob’s chair got closer and closer to yours. After the meal was finished, you insisted on helping to clean up, but some of the other players and WAGs insisted that you and Jacob stay at the table. As the conversation continued, you began to lean closer and closer to Jacob. So close to the point where your shoulder was right up against his chest, and his arm was around your shoulder. You were as close as physically possible without sharing a chair. Jacob began rubbing patterns on your shoulder, and it sent shivers down your spine. Jacob noticed. He whispered into your ear asking if you wanted a sweater. You told him no, but he still insisted on getting you a sweater, so Jacob got up and grabbed a sweater for you as your conversation continued with Elias, Johnny, Noah, and Annica.

“So, you and Jacob are getting close again,” Noah points out suggestively.

“I mean, we’ve always been close, so I’m not sure what you’re trying to get at,” you reply. You think you understood what Noah was pointing at, but you didn’t want to give him that satisfaction.

“Now that he’s single, are you going to make your move?” Elias eggs on.

You stare at them, and the heat drains from your face. “What?”

“I mean, you’re in love with him, and it’s obvious he’s in love with you, too,” Annica replies. “You should tell him how you feel.”

“No, he doesn’t love me like that.”

“Then explain how touchy and lovey he’s been with you. He was never like that with you before,” Johnny points out, and the rest of the group nod in agreement.

“Right, because he had a girlfriend, a fiance.”

“Sure, but he doesn’t have either of those right now, and he’s acting like a madman in love,” Noah says.

“Look, I know your heart has been broken before because of Jacob’s past relationships, so you’re allowed to be scared, but look at this as an opportunity,” Annica says to you sincerely. She leans in closer to you and places a hand comfortingly on yours. “Don’t go too long without telling him because, at the end of the day, Jacob loves you. He does, and he feels the same way. You’re allowed to be scared and nervous, but don’t let that stop you from the great love you can have with him. Don’t let your fears and nervousness stop you from getting the love that you deserve, okay?”

You nod. Out of all the people you’ve talked to, Annica somehow summed it all up perfectly. She seemed to know exactly what was going on in your head and why you were so hesitant to say anything, even now.

“Worse comes to worst, you, me, and Matthew can be a throuple,” Noah jokes, trying to ease the tension. This brings out a giant laugh from the group. It felt good to laugh with your friends again.

Jacob was walking out from his house with a hoodie in tow when he heard your loud laughter in the distance. He looks up to see you laughing along with Noah, Elias, Annica, and Johnny. He smiles at the thought of knowing that you’re happy and in a good mood. That’s all he wants. He wants you to be happy and in a good mood.

His emotion sours though when he sees you giggling along to something Noah says. He knows he’s reading into it too much, but he’s jealous. He’s jealous that Noah is the one who has you giggling. He’s jealous that Noah and Annica and Elias and Johnny get to be on the receiving end of your infectious laugh. He wants to be sitting right there with you and hearing your laugh.

“What are you staring so intently at?” Matthew asks out of nowhere. Where did he come from? Jacob doesn’t answer but continues to watch you interact with his and your friends. “You know Noah isn’t making a move on your girl, right?”

“She’s not my girl,” Jacob scowls. “Yet.”

Jacob wants you to be his girl so bad that he’s reading into a platonic conversation as something more.

“Just tell her. You know, go tell her right now. The entire team will be so happy that you finally figured shit out and are together.”

“I’m going to give her this hoodie, so she’s not cold,” Jacob deflects. He didn’t want to tell you in a public place. He didn’t want you to be pressured into telling him you felt the same. He wanted you to tell him you loved him out of your own free will and not influenced by added stares.

Jacob sits down in the chair next to you and hands you the hoodie without saying anything. He stays in his seat and doesn’t move to hold you close like he was before. You take the hoodie he offered you and put it on. Jacob’s heart begins to beat rapidly as he sees you wearing his clothes. When you put the hoodie on comfortably, you lean over to Jacob and place a soft kiss on his cheek. You whisper a thank you into his ear before sitting back down in your chair. Jacob instantly knows that he has nothing to worry about because you were it for him, and he was it for you. Jacob’s scowl goes away, and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. It didn’t matter who you smiled at or laughed at, as long as you were happy, then Jacob was happy.

You were the last one at Jacob’s that night. You helped him with the final cleaning up and sorting out. You plopped on his couch and let out a giant huff of air dramatically.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you tell Jacob as he sits down next to you.

“Of course,” he responds, but he has a lost look in his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

He looks at you. “Yeah, of course, why?”

“You just have a weird look in your eyes. What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing in particular, just how different my life is right now than I thought it would be,” Jacob answers. He hopes you’ll ask what’s changed because he thinks he’s finally going to tell you. He’s begging you to ask, so he can tell you that who he sees spending the rest of his life with has changed.

“Oh yeah? What’s changed?”

“A bunch of things. Like, my house, who I play for, my relationship status, who I want to spend the rest of my life with,” Jacob answers. You nod. You nodded? You nod! That’s it? Do you not have anything to say to Jacob saying the last part? He needs to emphasize it more, he guesses. “Especially the last part.”

“Oh yeah, how much has it changed?” you ask and turn to face him.

“Well, about a year ago, I thought I’d be spending the rest of my life with her, but now, I want to spend the rest of my life with someone else,” Jacob answers.

Your heartbeat quickens. Was this him telling you he’s found someone else or is this finally the confessions about the feelings you both have for each other? “Who is this someone else?” you whisper ask.

Jacob’s heart is beating so fast that it sounds like the rhythm of a dance song. He’s finally going to tell her. What if she doesn’t feel the same way? Despite everyone’s insistence that you feel the same way, Jacob is still nervous that you don’t feel the same way.

“Tell me about her?” you whisper.

“Gladly,” Jacob says. “She happens to be my best friend for the past eight years.”

You snap your head up when you hear Jacob’s words. “What?”

Oh no, you don’t feel the same way. You’re going to turn him down, and Jacob ruined the most important relationship in his life. You realize that your response was a bit terser than you meant. You were shocked. Despite everyone telling you Jacob felt the same way, it was still shocking to hear. You hoped your response didn’t force him to shut down and not continue what he was saying. Jacob moves closer to you on his couch and puts his forehead on yours. It’s now or never.

Your forehead felt warm against Jacob’s, and it was making him go crazy. “Yn, I’m in love with you. It took me eight long years to realize it, but I’m in love with you. I think I always was, but I’ve realized it over the past few months.” Please, let her feel the same way.

You smile. Jacob loves you? He’s in love with you? You place your hands on his cheeks and bring his face to yours and kiss him. You place a soft kiss on his lips before pulling away slowly. “I’m in love with you, too.”

You love him, too? You love him! “I love you, Yn.”

“I love you, too, Jacob,” you say with a giggle. Jacob grabs you and sets you on his lap. You wrap your arms around him and lean in for another kiss.

When Jacob pulls away, you have a giant smile on your face, and your lips are sensitive from the kisses.

“I’m sorry,” Jacob says to you.

“You have to stop apologizing for things you haven’t done,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry for the heartbreak I caused you. I’m sorry you were there for each step of the other relationship I had. I’m sorry I never realized that I was hurting you,” Jacob says ignoring your comment.

“Oh. I’m not upset at you for any of that.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry.”

“How about, moving forward, the past is in the past, okay?” you suggest.

Jacob smiles. “So there’s a future? A moving forward?”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” you tell him with a kiss. Sure, it took Jacob a while to realize how he felt, but you were able to grow into a person who was ready to spend the rest of your life with this man. It took some time, but it was all worth it now.

. . .

Three Years Later

Jacob twirls you around on the dance floor with a giant smile on his face. It was the last dance of your wedding night. The past three years have been filled with laughter, happiness, and love. There were some difficult moments, but, at the end of the day, the love you both have for each other beat every difficulty faced.

You were dancing the last dance of the night with all your guests making a circle for the two of you on the dance floor. They were using their phones’ flashlights to illuminate you both.

As you both continued to dance to your second first dance song choice, Jacob glances around the room at the guests. Jacob sees your parents holding each other as they watch their daughter dancing with the love of her life. He sees his mother looking at you and Jacob knowing that it was a long time coming but worth it. He sees Elias, Noah, Matthew, and some of his other teammates and friends smiling and giving him a thumbs up. He sees Mark giving him a nod. Without his captain’s help, Jacob isn’t sure you’d be here today. Lastly, before putting his eyes on you, he sees her. He sees the woman he was supposed to marry. She gives him a curt nod and leans her head on her new husband’s shoulder and cradles her swollen, pregnant belly. Jacob isn’t sure what happened between you both, but he knows that you both went to brunch before the wedding and cleared the air. You both talked and cleared up things. Many thought it was weird that Jacob’s ex-fiance was invited to the wedding, but if it weren’t for her, you and Jacob wouldn’t be together. She and Jacob needed that relationship to realize who they truly wanted to be with. They needed the relationship to help them realize the lives they truly wanted to lead.

Jacob, lastly, lays his eyes on you, his new wife, and smiles.

“What are you thinking about so intently?” you ask with your beautiful smile gracing your lips.

“Nothing,” Jacob says and places a kiss on your lips.

“I don’t believe that,” you tease.

“I’m just thinking about how we got here,” Jacob says. The previous relationship Jacob was in was no longer an awkward topic. You were both able to mention it now and then without an awkward silence filling the room. Jacob knew that if he didn’t love her, then he wouldn’t have realized how much he loves you. Without her, Jacob wouldn’t be dancing with his new wife.

“Oh yeah? And what about it?”

Jacob smiles and holds you tighter. “Just how it was you all along.”

Taglist: @goalision @coffee-ontherocks @glassdanse @barzal-burakovsky @beauvibaby @boqvistsbabe @heatherawoowoo @heaveniish @stars-canucks @tkapuckit @mellany1997 @nhlboyshavemyhart88 @heybarzy @2manytabsopen @habsfan @besthockeyfics @plds2000 @kaitieskidmore1 @iwantahockeyhimbo @sidscrosbyy @barzysandmarnersbitch @ollywahlygator @leafs-forever @laurenairay @no-pucks-given @sixmapleleafs (Join my taglist here!)

#jacob markstrom #jacob markstrom imagine #jacob markstrom fic #jacob markstrom x reader #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl writing #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey writing #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames x reader #calgary flames fic #claudia writes

204 notes · View notes

cheri-translates · 4 years ago

Text

[CN] Victor’s Belonging Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 归属之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

This date makes important references to his birthday R&S, so do read that first!

Victor’s 2021 birthday collection:

🐼 r&s l belonging date ♡ l video call l moments and texts l asmr

[ Released in CN on 8 Jan 2021 ]

Early in the morning on the weekend, I push a cardboard box into Victor’s living room, straightening up and heaving a sigh.

MC: I seem to have prepared too many ribbons... I'll just blow fewer balloons.

Scanning the slightly empty and spacious room, I retrieve decorations from within the cardboard box.

Victor has been busy with business trips recently. Even though I know he’d return on his birthday, I still feel a little uneasy.

In order to avert the abrupt circumstances like last year, I called him in advance to tell him about my “action plan”.

He seems to have gotten used to the festive rituals I insist upon, and has agreed to let me decorate his home.

Just as I plan to straighten up the cushions on the sofa, the doorbell suddenly rings.

MC: Who is it?

??: Hello, there’s a package for Mr Victor.

I open the door, and the deliveryman hands over a cardboard box. The logo of Loveland City’s zoo is printed on it.

MC: This is...

Deliveryman: It was sent late, I’m really sorry about it! There’s been some issues at the transfer point. It should have been sent to you at the start of the year.

A little puzzled, I nod and take the box. This seems to be the first time I’m seeing a package from the zoo.

After signing for the package, I take a picture of the box and send it to Victor.

Not long after, the phone buzzes.

Victor: Leave the box at the entrance. I’ll handle it after I’m back.

MC: Sure, but why would the zoo send you a delivery?

Victor: I adopted a panda, so the zoo sends some merchandise every year.

MC: So they actually send such things... zoo merchandise is always in limited supply, and I’ve had to rely on snatching them up whenever I visit.

Perhaps hearing the envy in my tone, Victor chuckles softly.

Victor: In that case, you can open it up and look if there’s anything you haven’t snatched up.

MC: Can I? I’ll open it on your behalf then!

With a few movements, I open the cardboard box. All sorts of animal plush toys are stored inside, with panda-related items featuring most often.

My line of sight roams the box, and I notice a small album.

There are pictures of one big and one small panda in the album. It records their everyday lives - eating bamboo, climbing trees, rolling around... it’s like a diary.

MC: Victor, there’s an album here too. There are two pandas in it. Which one did you adopt?

Victor: Both of them.

MC: You adopted two?

Victor: Mm, the big one was the one I mentioned to you before. The small one is its child.

Digesting this information, I mutter softly.

MC: I wonder who mentioned not having feelings towards animals...

Victor: Animals no, people yes. Providing help to endangered animals is a very normal thing.

MC: Only providing help?

Victor: ...what else?

MC: Nothing, I just think CEO Victor is really considerate to specially provide help to a father-son duo~

There’s a temporary silence at the other end of the line. I can almost picture Victor’s speechless expression at this moment.

Victor: Say it, what kind of wicked plan have you come up with this time?

MC: It’s a serious idea! Victor, let’s find a time to visit them? I also wish to meet these two “investees” who have caught your eye.

Victor: You’re truly giving yourself more and more excuses to go out to play.

MC: I can’t?

Victor: ...forget it, we’ll go together if you want to see them.

After ending the call, I retrieve a few panda plush toys from the box, display them on the sofa, then straighten the seats. Finally, I nod in satisfaction.

As compared to vibrantly coloured decorations, Victor should prefer these adorable plush toys.

A few more pages are torn from the calendar, and it’s finally Victor’s birthday.

I checked the information of his flight beforehand. Since it’s not yet time for the plane to land, I prepare to send my report to him first.

The sound of my phone vibrating enters my ears. Seeing the familiar name flashing on the screen, I pick up the call in slight confusion.

MC: Victor? You’ve already reached?

Victor: I just reached. Slightly earlier than expected.

MC: This means I'm the first person to receive your call~ I’ll just say it first - I’ve already prepared my report, and just have to tap the send button.

Victor: Looks like you have a lot of confidence in this report. Since you're done with work, head out with me in the afternoon.

I freeze for a moment. This year, Victor’s birthday happens to be on a working day. I originally planned to celebrate with him in the evening after work.

I didn’t expect that Victor, who has always been serious about work, would think of having a day of rest. I can’t help but tease him.

MC: Is CEO Victor skipping work?

Victor: I’m giving you a break too. A certain someone has been rushing work for so many days, and I’m letting you rest for a while.

My heart stirs, and I seem to understand something.

MC: Seems like I'm not the only person looking forward to today?

After a moment of silence on the other end of the line, his voice sounds, carrying with it a smile.

Victor: I shouldn’t be the only one wanting to meet earlier either. I’ll get my luggage, and will see you in around two hours.

At the agreed time, Victor’s car appears punctually at the bottom of the office building.

I jog and get into the car. He sits on the driver’s seat quietly, his coat half open, revealing a somewhat familiar grey coloured shirt.

There seems to be some tiny creases at his collar that haven’t been ironed smoothly, but the angle at which the collar encases his neck looks very suitable.

Perhaps due to the rays of light falling on his shoulders, or perhaps due to the warm wind blowing in the car, the image before me feels especially warm despite it being winter.

I pull on his arm to take a look, then nod in satisfaction.

MC: Who picked this shirt? It feels as though it makes CEO Victor look especially dashing!

Victor looks at me, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

Victor: Blowing your own trumpet.

MC: You wore it yourself. Doesn’t this prove that the choice of gift was a success?

Victor: I wonder who splayed it on the middle of the bed, only missing a note saying “Wear this today”.

MC: So do you like it or not?

Victor: Passable.

I purse my lips, pulling aside my own coat. Deliberately straightening up, I beckon him to look at the matching shirt I’m wearing.

MC: Cough cough. Is it really just “passable”?

Victor seems to be taken aback for a moment. Then, a smile quickly softens his expression.

Victor: The car isn’t warm yet. Don’t rush to remove your coat.

He reaches out to pull up the zipper. With a pause, he pulls it down slightly, stopping at the chest region.

I follow his gaze and lower my head to take a look. Like this, it just happens to reveal my shirt.

Glancing at our similar colours, I can’t help but laugh secretly in my heart.

Victor: In general, there’s an improvement in taste. A little better than what I expected.

MC: Thank you for your praise, CEO Victor. In that case, should I maintain this standard in the future?

Victor: You can. All right, let’s go. Fasten your safety belt.

MC: Where are we going?

Victor: Didn’t you want to see the pandas? There will be fewer visitors in the zoo on a working day.

While Victor speaks, he starts the car, inputting the destination into the navigation system.

MC: We’re going right now? But today... I thought you’d prefer a quieter birthday.

Victor: By “quieter”, do you mean by displaying a huge bunch of plush toys at home?

MC: They’re so cute, so I accidentally...

I grin while meeting his look of distaste, and something occurs to me.

MC: But if we're going there today, I could get to know your panda friends by matching them against the photographs.

Seeing me take out the photo album from my bag and giving it a flip, Victor raises his brows in slight shock.

Victor: You even brought their photographs around?

MC: I was originally going to make you a mini photo wall, but couldn’t finish it in time. I planned to bring you the photographs in the evening, so I put them in my bag. Come to think of it, I don’t know what names you gave them.

[Note] This is a contradiction?? Because MC clearly mentioned Little Vick in a pretty old Moment post...

Victor: I didn’t give them names.

MC: Why not?

Victor: I only paid the adoption fees. The rest depends entirely on the zoo staff’s care, so there’s no need to leave them with anything.

MC: But if they don’t have names, how would you recognise them later?

Victor: Do you rely on names to recognise people?

MC: Oo... It’s mainly the face I guess.

Victor: Animals are the same. If you observe their unique traits, you’ll naturally be able to identify them.

The afternoon sunlight is somewhat glaring. I lift my head to avoid the light, and look at Victor in the rearview mirror.

He has a serious expression, but for some reason, I think of a particular fine and sunny weekend we once had, when the light also encased us like this.

At that time, the person beside me had used an ink-less brush, secretly leaving a mark related to him on me.

The car pauses at the crossing, waiting for the red light. Victor straightens the visor for me, turning his head to meet my gaze.

Victor: Why are you staring at me?

MC: I suddenly thought about how someone doesn’t name pandas, yet would write his own name on my face. Doesn’t this mean I’m important to him?

Victor: Good that you know it.

The red light flickers. Victor averts his gaze, staring at the front. Suddenly, he laughs.

Victor: But from what I see now, I’ve already been influenced by a dummy.

The visor shields me from the glaring sunlight, and also makes my vision clearer.

Whether it’s the matching shirt or the Shiba Inu keychain swinging on the car keys...

These seemingly trivial, ordinary and small details clearly reflect the traces that I’ve left on him.

Even though it’s a working day, there are still quite a number of people visiting the pandas in the zoo.

Following the crowd, we take a slow stroll. Many children run past us happily.

Right after walking to the panda area, I see many people congregated at the railings and observing.

Pulling Victor over, rounded panda “dumplings” immediately attract my full attention.

A few young pandas are currently climbing and having fun on wooden poles. Occasionally, they’d bump into each other and roll onto the ground. After exerting energy to flip over, they’d once again climb to the location of their choice.

As if intoxicated and stupefied, I stare at them for a very long time before remembering that the panda baby Victor had adopted could be in their midst. Hurriedly, I take out the photographs from my bag to make comparisons.

However, the pandas before me seem to be carved from the same mold. The colour of their fur are the same, and they are similar in size. There seems to be too much to take in.

I turn my head to look at Victor, who’s next to me. He seems to guess what I’m thinking, and speaks straight away.

Victor: You haven’t identified it?

MC: It’s a little difficult.

Victor points at a panda which is currently climbing a wooden pole.

Victor: That one.

MC: How can you be so certain?

Victor: It injured its leg a few months ago. During the treatment, there was a need to trim the fur around the injury. Look at its hind leg - some of its fur is newly grown.

Fixing my eyes on it, the back of the panda’s right hind leg has a small tuft of relatively shorter fur. Without a careful look, one would think it’s a normal dip.

Flipping and looking through the photos, I realise that it’s actually the case.

Just as I’m about to awe at how Victor is truly perceptive to the finest detail, I suddenly realise something.

MC: Wait, you mentioned that it’s been a few months... Have you always been keeping watch on them?

Victor: The staff will regularly provide feedback on their situation.

MC: So your e-mail isn’t filled only with reports from employees.

Victor: My life doesn’t just consist of work.

He doesn’t respond to my teasing gaze, and he continues looking at the pandas playing freely and leisurely in the garden.

Victor: Are you here to look at the pandas or me?

I respond without giving it much thought.

MC: Both!

Victor: ...

Victor shakes his head in resignation, pulling on my hand as we weave through the crowd.

Victor: There are too many people here. Let’s walk forward.

We walk and pause, following the park’s signboards. Gradually, a patch of empty land appears in my view.

A staff member is currently stacking bamboo next to tree trunks and wooden poles, as though waiting for the pandas to feast.

I tug on Victor to stop. After staying in place for a while, I see a big panda pacing over slowly.

It doesn’t seem to care about how many people are watching it. It heads towards the food, picking a comfortable position to sit down.

Flipping to the photograph of the Daddy Panda eating bamboo, I lift it up to compare it with the panda in front of me.

MC: Victor, isn’t this the panda Uncle gave to you? Its posture of leaning against the tree trunk is exactly the same as in the photo!

Victor leans down and looks over, nodding lightly.

Victor: Yes.

MC: Really? We’re so lucky to meet both of them.

Just as Victor is about to say something, the voice of a small boy suddenly drifts towards us.

Small boy: Little... Vick. Its name is Little Vick!

I’m stunned for a moment, turning my head to find the source of the voice. A small boy is being carried in the arms of his parents, reading out the name based on a nearby board.

Information regarding the pandas on duty are written on the board. Its name is found at the very top, and it’s a name I couldn’t be more familiar with.

[Note] The reason why MC finds it familiar is clearer in Chinese. Victor’s name is 李泽言 (Li Ze Yan), and the panda’s Chinese name is 言言 (Yan Yan)

Because he read the correct words, the small boy is complimented by his parents. He continues reading.

Small boy: Its a boy... and its birthday is 13 January! It’s Little Vick’s birthday today!

Turning back to look at Victor, he currently has an uncomfortable expression on his face, and he clears his throat softly.

Victor: ...my dad named it.

MC: And it happens to have the same birthday?

Victor: Mm.

I try to suppress my laughter, lowering my voice and calling out to Little Vick a few times while it’s engrossed in bamboo.

MC: Little Vick-- We’re here to see you--

Victor: [sighs] ...

MC: Little Vick-- Wishing you a happy birthday--

Victor: Childish.

Victor pretends to have a stern look his poker face, but I can still see the gradually reddening tips of his ears.

I laugh while standing in front of him, straightening my back under his reluctant gaze.

MC: On behalf of myself and Little Vick, we also wish Mr Victor a happy birthday. Don’t feel embarrassed. Your father used your name to name your favourite thing. It’s called “loving the house and its crows”.

[Note] MC uses an idiom, 爱屋及乌 ( “ai wu ji wu”), which literally translates to “love the house and the crows”. This conveys the depth of someone’s love to the point where you like everything related to that person.

Victor: Do you apply the same principle when you enthusiastically name all sorts of objects?

MC: I don’t just name everything. After all, I also “love the house and its crows”. For instance, I used to think that all pandas were very adorable... But right now, I think Little Vick is the cutest.

Only after saying all this in one breath do I feel slightly embarrassed. I hurriedly turn around, taking out my phone to take pictures of Little Vick, wanting to hide the heat on my face.

While snapping photos, I watch for Victor’s reaction. But even after a long time, there isn’t a sound from behind me, and I can’t help but turn around.

“Kacha.”

The golden, dazzling sunlight spreads from behind him, glinting brightly around his raised phone.

Before I can prepare my expression, I see Victor’s phone camera facing me.

He retracts his phone, smiling as he looks at the screen.

MC: [blushing] You... you snuck a photo of me!

Seeing that I’m reaching out to snatch his phone, Victor grabs my wrist, quickly keeping his phone in his pocket.

Victor: This is just a response to your words earlier.

MC: What does that mean?

Victor smiles, his deep eyes filled with my profile.

Victor: It means that there are many dummies in the world... But I only like the one in front of me.

Returning home from the zoo, VIctor’s sudden words repeatedly circle my mind.

In order for him not to realise my state of mind, I take out the ingredients I had prepared in advance the moment I reach home, preparing to burrow into the kitchen to cook.

Victor naturally walks to my side, wanting to take the bags in my hand. I frantically press down on his hand.

MC: Hold on, don’t help. I’ll do it myself!

Victor: There are so many things and you want to do it yourself?

MC: Don’t worry, I’ve practiced at home and can guarantee that I have a knowledge of the fundamentals, and won’t blow up your kitchen. Also, you’re the elderly person whose birthday is being celebrated. So you shouldn’t work. Oh yes, aside from this shirt, I’ve also hidden a few presents at home. Want to look for them?

[Note] MC REALLY USED THE WORD 寿星 ( “shou xing”) which could mean “God of Longevity” or “elderly person whose birthday is being celebrated” LOL

I say everything in one breath, not giving him a chance to retort.

Under my expectant gaze, Victor sighs in resignation, then says a few more words before leaving the kitchen.

With the fastest speed I can manage, I finish cooking. While bringing the dishes to the table, Victor places some gift boxes onto the sofa.

Victor: I’ve found three. That’s all, isn’t it?

MC: Not just these. You could look in other rooms.

Victor: [sighs] Looks like you really planned to prepare a hundred gifts.

MC: I didn’t do it on purpose. When I saw those things, I subconsciously thought of you. But right now, I should invite CEO Victor to test my culinary skills!

After the meal, Victor finds a few more gifts. After giving them a count, I realise there’s still one more missing.

Victor: Why are there more?

MC: The final gift is very critical. I’ll help you get it.

I head straight to Victor’s bedroom. Removing the blanket, I retrieve a long box from a crevice at the corner of the bed.

Victor has his arms crossed over his chest as he stands at the side, watching as I make a show of straightening the ribbon on the gift box.

MC: Don’t worry, there aren’t any weird presents this time. Before, I was always sending you things I liked, but those things weren’t what you liked. So this year, I want to give you some gifts that you need.

Opening the gift box, I take out the tie that I picked out, and display it from all angles.

MC: There aren’t pictures of happy faces, and it doesn’t have a strange colour. You can wear it to work!

Victor looks at me, then walks to the side of the bed and leans down.

Victor: Since a certain someone is doing her utmost to recommend it, I shall see how it looks.

MC: I’ll put it on for you!

It’s rare for Victor to be interested in my presents. I immediately climb up from the bed, flipping his collar up and fastening the tie.

This distance makes the side of his face close enough to touch. His warm breaths are on my shoulder, and I have to force myself to focus on the tie.

With much difficulty, I tie the tie into a basic shape. Victor’s low voice suddenly drifts to my ear.

Victor: This seems to be the first time I’m seeing you wear a proper shirt.

MC: It looks good, doesn’t it?

Victor doesn’t respond. He simply smiles, tidying the back of my collar.

Victor: It’s also the first time I’ve seen you cooking without being clumsy.

MC: Of course I needed to perform properly when cooking in your kitchen.

Victor: It’s also the first time we’re visiting the zoo on a day-off from work.

MC: It’s already the fourth year, and there are still so many firsts?

Victor: Is that a bad thing? Since they are all first times, you can create so-called surprises.

The words at my ear, bringing with them a smile, create ripples in my heart. My hands pause, and I lift my head to look at him.

MC: May I ask CEO Victor - does this mean you’re satisfied with today?

Victor: This isn’t about whether I’m satisfied.

Victor pulls down my hand which is holding onto the tie, beckoning me to sit down.

Just as I plan to scoot over to give him some space, I realise that he has seated down directly on the carpet next to the bed.

MC: Someone always reminds me that the floor is cold. So why is he still sitting on the floor?

Victor: The first time you came to my house, you seem to have said similar words.

While speaking, he tugs the blanket upwards before it slides down my shoulder.

Lowering my head to look at him, the “first time” he’s referring to surfaces in my mind.

The CEO who wilfully lay down on the floor to settle work, and also wilfully had a light sleep in the middle of the piano tune.

He lifts his head to look at me, his teasing gaze unconcealed and bright in the light. The tie, which hasn’t been fastened properly, hangs loosely on his neck.

Without even realising it, his relaxed appearance has become something I've grown used to.

Images in my memories and the person before me gradually match up. I can’t suppress the smile creeping onto my lips, but complain about him anyway.

MC: Victor, you’re really wilful sometimes.

Victor: I learnt it from someone.

MC: ...cough cough. Back to the earlier topic! Could the elderly birthday person please assess today’s plans, and let me gain some experience.

Victor: Everything about today, whether the itinerary or the gifts - I’m very happy with them. Not just today. Every year before this as well.

MC: If you put it that way, I can’t tell how to make it even better. After all, even though it’s been so long, you’ve never directly mentioned what you like.

Victor chuckles softly.

Victor: There’s no need to mention them. When it comes to these things, your efforts always surpass my expectations. Also, the feelings and time you expend - they are even more precious gifts than anything else.

A clamour of emotions ferment in my chest, and I finally peek my head out from the blanket.

MC: Am I one step closer to moving you to tears?

Victor: Judging from your skills in tying a tie, you’re still very far from it. But this is already very good.

As the curtain of night falls, the world outside the window gradually becomes quiet. The ticking of the clock’s secondhand at the bedside becomes clearer.

I glance at the time, and it’s already quite late.

MC: Today’s coming to an end. I’m a little reluctant to part with with it.

Victor: Reluctant to part with the off-day?

MC: Nope. I just feel as though you’ll get busy again after today... You won’t just be my Victor.

I mutter softly, but Victor still hears it. He curls his finger and taps my forehead.

Victor: Who says I'm not? From work to life, which part lacks a certain person’s shadow? Also, other than you, I've never belonged to anyone.

MC: Does this count as a return gift from an elderly man celebrating his birthday?

Victor: It’s just the truth.

I smile while tightening the blanket over myself, shuffling towards him quietly.

MC: But the opportunities to spend time with you without any worries like this are very limited. How do you want to spend the remainder of today?

Victor looks at me, then straightens up to sit with me at the side of the bed.

Victor: For the rest of the time, let’s just stay like this.

I subconsciously loosen my grip on the blanket. He takes the blanket, leans closer to me, and bundles me in it tightly.

The irritating sound of the secondhand suddenly vanishes. In the tranquil night, only the light in the eyes of the person next to me continues flowing and glinting.

Victor: Being without any worries like you wanted - it can be prolonged a little. Also, not just today. Anytime in the future - as long as you want it, it can be done.

🐼 Phone call: here

🐼 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #C R Y I N G #THEY ARE SO CUTE

246 notes · View notes

ollieofthebeholder · 3 years ago

Text

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr | Also on AO3

Epilogue: Martin Prime

“…see it into a new era. Please join me in welcoming to the podium the Head of the Magnus Institute of London, Dr. Walter…Kos-ki-e-wicz.”

“Fifteen months and he still can’t pronounce it properly,” Jon whispered under the cover of the applause that followed the introduction.

“He’s better than he used to be,” Martin whispered back, squeezing Jon’s hand gently. “Go make nice.”

Jon lifted Martin’s fingers to his lips and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to the knuckles before pushing back from the long table and getting to his feet. Martin turned his head towards where the podium ought to be, thankful they’d been able to come in early and get the layout of the room so he didn’t look like a complete tit staring off into the wrong direction, as the clapping gradually tapered off into an expectant silence.

“Thank you, Mr. Campbell.” Jon popped the normally silent P with a dry, pointed humor Martin knew well. When the laughter had died down, he continued in the deep, rolling affectation he had begun adopting when he needed to act as the face of the Institute. “Friends, colleagues, distinguished guests. I stand before you tonight with the awesome and humbling privilege of thanking you all for coming to celebrate two hundred years of the Magnus Institute.”

Martin, who had listened to Jon practice this speech in the comfort of their living room at least twenty times in the last two weeks, let it fade into the background and settled back into his seat. Not being able to scan the assembled gathering was annoying, but while this might have been the largest event they had attended in the past year, it was by no means the first. He was used to having to fold his hands over his stomach, or the end of his cane, and imagine what everyone’s faces were doing.

A familiar whirring started up from the space Jon had vacated, and Martin smiled and laid his fingers on the tape recorder as it buzzed away. Somehow, it was comforting to know she was still listening, even now.

It hadn’t been easy getting to this point. Martin had never really actually expected killing Jonah Magnus to instantly make everything sunshine and roses again, but he definitely hadn’t expected the attempt to drain Jon so badly that he collapsed in his arms. Nor had he expected that it would take three days for him to open his eyes again. (Melanie had teased Jon a bit about “taking this whole Messiah Complex to extremes”, but even she’d been strained.) And the news from Great Yarmouth hadn’t helped matters. Martin was still kind of thankful that he hadn’t been able to see Sasha’s face when she got off the phone with Basira and reported what little she knew. Or the look on his counterpart’s face when he called and filled in the gaps thirty-six hours later. Martin had hoped they’d get out of the building before blowing it up, but at least they hadn’t gone into the Unknowing itself.

It had still been touch and go, though, and Tim was still adjusting to his new reality, but thankfully he had plenty of support. Martin could hear in their voices when they spoke that they were happy, in a way he was only just learning himself that he could be.

Jon made a surprisingly good Institute Head. It hadn’t necessarily been something he’d planned on, but when they got back from taking Charlie to see Present Jon and Present Martin—who refused to leave the hospital until Tim was awake and ready to come home himself—and Melanie informed him about the new temporary head, Jon had almost literally hit the roof and stormed the Institute himself. It had taken him two days to manage to get an audience with Peter Lukas, but in the end, he’d stood before him and informed him that he had a choice: Vacate his position and leave the Institute alone, or be destroyed utterly.

Peter Lukas, unsurprisingly, had chosen poorly.

For Jon to subsequently take control of the Institute had been Sasha’s idea, and her points—that Jon was bound to the Institute and would need a reason to stay close to it, that he was the only person who knew enough to keep it running and keep it safe, that anyone else would either make things worse or become corrupted by the Beholder—had been valid. She’d crafted an entire identity for both Jon and Martin and somehow managed to have Dr. Walter Koskiewicz declared Elias Bouchard’s sole heir. Publicly, that was who he was and who he remained, but on the day he’d assumed the position of Institute Head, he had called a meeting of all the department heads and bluntly, concisely, and completely told them the entire truth. He had left it up to each head whether or not to tell their staff everything—although he was emphatic that they be told about the Eye, at least to some extent—and had made it clear that anyone who wanted to quit would be more than welcome to do so, with full severance; he wouldn’t hold it against anyone who chose to leave. But, as he had told Martin that night when he got back from the Institute, he didn’t want anyone else feeling trapped, or to not know they were working for, essentially, a fear god. He’d been far more surprised than Martin when, out of eighty-seven employees, only three had chosen to leave and one had asked for their job back a week later.

Getting the rest of Elias’s estate had taken longer. Obviously there was no body, so what they technically had was a missing person. Surprisingly, it was Daisy who’d pushed that forward by manufacturing proof that he’d been killed in the explosion at Great Yarmouth, claiming she’d followed him there as part of her hunt for Gertrude Robinson’s murderer. When Tim, freshly back in the Archives, looked over the assortment of tapes that had previously been in the tunnels and unerringly plucked the one with Gertrude’s death on it, Daisy’s superiors decided that he was responsible for the House of Wax as well, closed both files, and declared him officially dead.

Jon told Martin that Jonah Magnus had terrible taste in interior decorating. Martin told him he would just have to take his word for it.

Martin tuned back into Jon’s speech as he caught the words that meant he was winding down. He’d been reluctant to agree to this event, especially given what today was, but it was expected, so he’d caved, with a few stipulations. The speech, unfortunately for Jon, was non-negotiable, but at least he was able to keep it fairly short.

“And so, as we move into our third century, I leave you with a few carefully chosen words,” Jon said. “To our Institute donors, I give these words: Thank you for your support of the Magnus Institute over the years, and I hope that you will continue to support us throughout the changes to come. To those who come to the Institute to study and learn, I give these words: Your work furthers ours as much as ours furthers yours, and we look forward to working with you and developing that relationship, now and well into the future. And to you, the Institute employees, those who make this Institute what it is, I give these words…” He paused for a moment, letting the suspense build, and Martin licked the corner of his mouth to hide his smirk. It was obvious from Jon’s voice, though, that he wasn’t bothering to hide his own. “Three-day weekend. See you all on Monday.”

The cheers, applause, and laughter nearly drowned out Jon’s “Thank you”, and Martin let his grin escape as he joined in the applause. He heard the rustling of fabric and guessed what was happening a split-second before Wade’s tap to his elbow told him for sure they were giving Jon a standing ovation.

It went on for nearly a minute solid before it started to die down, and as Martin slowly sank back into his seat, he felt Jon’s gloved fingers tangle in his.

“Almost done,” Martin murmured, knowing Jon was close to his breaking point but would never admit it.

There were a few closing remarks, and then footsteps came over to them. “All right, if you’ll just stand over this way and greet a few people…”

“No more than half an hour. I mean it, Harrison,” Jon warned.

“I know, Mr.—I mean Dr.—uh, sir,” Harrison stammered. “I promise.”

“Mister Doctor Sir?” Martin teased Jon as Harrison walked away. “Sounds like something you’d name a character in Spire.”

“That’s Mister Doctor Director Sir to you.”

They shared a laugh before Martin took a half-step back, cane folded up in one hand and his other resting discreetly against the small of Jon’s back. Jon took a deep breath and straightened himself up, but didn’t move away from the point of contact. They’d learned their lesson one of the first times Jon had had to do an official event. Martin did some of the bookkeeping and budgeting for the Institute—God knew he’d picked up enough being Peter Lukas’s assistant, and Jon knew bugger all about the business side of things—but for the most part, he wasn’t an employee and certainly wasn’t who the more important guests at these events wanted to talk to, so he’d stepped back and stayed quietly in the background. Unfortunately, the Lukases were still Institute donors, and even if they avoided Jon beyond the bare minimum that politeness dictated, the presence of even one was still enough for Martin to slip back into old habits. Thank God the bond Annabelle had put on them was still extant and he’d been able to pull himself back, but it had still been a scary few minutes for both of them.

Most of the donors who spoke to Jon—briefly, Harrison was being as good as his word about limiting the official greetings—either ignored Martin or only acknowledged him with a silent nod, which amounted to the same thing. For the most part, Martin didn’t mind, but he could tell it was getting to Jon long before the fifteen-minute mark.

“Last one, sir, I promise,” Harrison whispered at last.

“Harrison, I have told you about the ‘sir’ thing,” Jon muttered. Martin hastily turned his laugh into a cough.

“Dr. Koskiewicz, so good to see you again.” Martin couldn’t place the speaker’s voice except that it was posh, which meant it was an Institute donor, and loud. Probably belonged to a large man, almost certainly an older one.

“It’s an honor to have you here, Sir Henry,” Jon replied, his voice slightly strained. Martin guessed that the man had a very firm handshake; an ordinary hand would be swollen and sore after half an hour of shaking, but the scarring on Jon’s made it far worse. “And you as well, Lady Vane-Tempest.”

“Lovely party, darling, so kind of you to invite us,” Lady Vane-Tempest said. Her voice, at least, Martin couldn’t forget—well-bred, but harsh and grating at the same time. He’d met the Vane-Tempests at the Christmas “party” he’d been forced to run on behalf of Peter Lukas and had not enjoyed the experience. “Congratulations on two hundred years. Obviously you haven’t been here the whole time, of course!” She trilled with laughter.

Martin felt Jon stiffen, and then he said with forced politeness, “Thank whatever gods you believe in that I haven’t, madam.”

“Looking forward to touring the building,” Sir Henry said. “Understand you’ve got some new interesting new acquisitions in your Artifact Storage. Love to see them.”

“We’re not doing tours this evening, I’m afraid,” Jon said. “That was the end of the gala, but it’s good of you to come. If you’ll get in touch with Ms. Zampano, I’m sure we can arrange a suitable time for you to see the building.”

“Oh, come now, darling, surely you can spare some time now,” Lady Vane-Tempest coaxed. If Martin was any judge, she’d been imbibing freely of the champagne, enough to get at least slightly tipsy. “We’re so looking forward to it.”

“I do apologize, but I have another commitment this evening.” Martin was a bit startled when Jon’s arm slid around his waist, but he willingly shifted his own position to return the gesture. The smile in Jon’s voice was obvious; he’d never been very good at hiding his pride and delight in anything to do with their relationship. “It’s our first wedding anniversary, you see.”

The Vane-Tempests mumbled polite congratulations, wished Jon a good night, and moved away. Jon let out a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his toes and sagged against Martin. “Thank God that’s over with.”

“That’s the last one,” Harrison promised. “I’ll just go say a few words to the press. Have a good weekend and—um—happy anniversary?”

“Thank you,” Jon and Martin said in unison. Martin unfolded his cane, and they walked out of the Institute the same way they had since escaping Peter Lukas in their own time—arm in arm.

Ninety minutes later and Martin, wearing his most comfortable sweater and a soft, threadbare pair of jeans, walked into the room they had designated as the “living room” with two mugs of tea and set them on the heavy, solid coffee table. “How’s the hand?”

“Still a bit sore, but I’ll recover.” Jon’s voice sounded slightly muffled. Martin wasn’t sure why until he heard the soft crackle of burning wood, and then Jon was right next to him and pulling him down for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Martin murmured, brushing his nose against Jon’s. As he pulled back, he added, “By the way, there was a message from the agency. They’re coming by for another assessment tomorrow, around noon.”

“Good thing I gave everyone the day off, then. Did she say anything about how the application is looking?”

“I don’t know that they’d tell us that on a message. We can ask when she gets here.”

The doorbell rang with the deep, sonorous tones Martin still privately felt belonged in a Gothic soap opera, and Jon sighed and slid out of Martin’s arms. “Bets on who got here first?”

“Not against you,” Martin informed him. Jon’s snickers followed him out of the room.

After more than a year of living in the house, Martin knew his way around by heart, especially after they redid the flooring so that he could tell by the texture beneath his feet which way he was heading. He made it to the front door without bumping into anything, made sure the chain was still secure, and pulled the door open to the length of the chain. “Who goes there?”

“Just the usual suspects,” Tim’s voice said. “We even found a Sasha rattling around in the gutters.”

“Shut up, Tim,” Sasha said, a bit grouchily.

Martin chuckled and closed the door enough that he could undo the chain, then pulled the door open. “Come on in. There’s a fire going.”

Each one of them gave him a hug as they came in, prefaced by a greeting so he’d know who he was hugging. He was pleasantly surprised when, after a fierce hug from Melanie, he heard a higher voice say, “It’s Georgie. Will you accept one from me?”

“Oh, sure, of course.” Martin hadn’t worried about any of Jon’s exes, or anyone who might possibly catch his interest and remind him that he could do better, since—well, actually, since they’d been reunited after traveling back in time, but the weight of the ring on his left hand and the memory of the tremble in Jon’s voice as he’d promised ‘til death comes for us both had finally quieted the last of his doubts. And Georgie did give good hugs. “Glad you could make it, Georgie. Anyone else?”

“No, Basira pulled a night shift tonight, I think. Here, let me get that.” Georgie—or someone, anyway—pulled the heavy door shut and slid the chain into place. “Hope we’re not too early.”

Martin shook his head. “You’re fine. Not like we’re doing anything particularly exciting.”

It took a few minutes of arranging, playful debates, and mostly-joking grumblings about getting those disgusting socks away from the food, Timothy Stoker, but soon everyone was settled down with something to drink and a baked good from the basket the others had brought with them. Jon sighed with obvious pleasure and curled up against Martin’s side; Martin wrapped an arm around him and held him close.

“Where’s Charlie tonight?” he asked.

“Late rehearsal, and Sasha’s uncle offered to pick him up and watch him after,” Present Jon answered. “We’d have brought him along, but he’s got a maths exam tomorrow and I know he’s not ready for it.”

Tim laughed. “Come on, Jon, cut him some slack. He’s doing much better this term than he did in the spring.”

“To be fair,” Melanie pointed out, “there was kind of a lot going on in the spring.”

There was a hum of agreement before Georgie added, “From everything you lot told me, I didn’t expect that grandmother of his to fight you so hard on custody.”

Present Martin sighed heavily. “I did. I mean, the last thing she wanted was for people to think she was a terrible guardian, you know? Even if Children’s Services didn’t get involved and take him away, the very fact that someone else dared ask to take him—and the fact that Charlie wanted to go…”

“And the fact that you kept insisting on referring to him as him, despite the fact that she has consistently and for his entire life refused to accept that he’s a boy,” Sasha put in. “She’s a poisonous old witch and he’s lucky to be shed of her. But yeah, between that and the fact that he got anxious and panicky and afraid to let any of you out of his sight—you know, at the beginning of April—it’s no wonder he came close to failing the spring term.”

There was a short pause before Present Martin asked carefully, “Did he tell you that, or…?”

“Oh, goddammit,” Sasha sighed. “He didn’t say anything to any of you about that, did he?”

“No, but we should have noticed,” Present Jon said quietly.

Melanie snorted. “I’m not sure how you would have, considering how clingy the three of you were being.”

Martin tightened his arms around Jon as the Archives crew began bickering, mostly lightheartedly but with an undercurrent of seriousness. During their first time experiencing…well, everything they had experienced…he and Jon had never really had a chance to stop and consider anniversaries. The one-year anniversary of Jane Prentiss attacking the Institute had fallen while they were trying to get ready for the Unknowing; the one-year anniversary of that had been while Martin was still having to avoid Jon, but he remembered staring at his reflection in the mirror and wondering if he would be better off calling out of work or if he should go in and lurk in the shadows of the Archives to reassure himself that Jon was actually still there. Passing the anniversaries—or, for that matter, the dates themselves—in a timeline where they didn’t technically happen hadn’t made things significantly better, so he could definitely understand why the present crew had been reluctant to be far from each other a year after so nearly losing one another, and more particularly nearly losing Tim.

Jon sank against him, also clinging tightly, and let the banter go on for a bit before he broke in. “Have you told Charlie about the trip?”

“We’re going to surprise him after school tomorrow,” Tim said, and Martin was pretty sure he could hear the relief in it. “Hope he likes the plan. He’s been asking to come with us the next time we go out of town since Jon got back from Jonah’s little hell-quest, and I don’t think he’s ever been out of London.”

“Well…you weren’t conscious at the time, but they did bring him to visit while you were…” Present Jon’s voice trailed off.

Martin was about to say something when something solid and heavy hit his leg on four tiny pressure points and screamed. Only six months of practice enabled him not to jump completely out of his skin. “Hello, Duchess.”

“Oh, damn, I didn’t feed them before the gala.” Jon carefully disentangled himself from Martin and removed the solid iron weight masquerading as a ball of fur from his lap. “Come along, Your Grace. What have you done with your sister?”

Martin couldn’t help the soft smile that touched his lips as he stared off in the direction Jon had gone. Hearing him talk to the cats in that tone of voice always did something funny to his insides.

The smirk in Melanie’s voice was obvious. “I genuinely can’t decide which one of you is going to be the bigger pushover when you get approved to adopt.”

“Have you heard anything yet?” Present Martin asked.

“There’s another visit scheduled tomorrow. We’re almost four months into this part of the process. I’m hoping we’ll have an answer soon.” Martin picked up his mug of tea and took a sip. It had started to cool a bit, but it was still drinkable. “Not that we’re in a hurry or anything, but it’d be nice to know, you know?”

“I could probably poke at your social worker’s mind and see if they have an answer,” Sasha offered. “It’d be easy.”

“Sasha, we’ve talked about this,” Present Jon said with an audible frown.

“Yeah, if I can manage to keep myself under control…” Tim trailed off. “Sorry, Georgie. I know you’d rather we didn’t talk about it.”

“It’s fine,” Georgie said with a sigh. “I’m getting used to it. It’s not like any of you can just…stop being what you are. Did—um—did your Georgie have a problem with it?”

It was the first time she’d asked about her past self since being introduced to Jon and Martin over a year ago, and Martin couldn’t explain why it felt so weird. “She did. At first, anyway. But I think it was less the whole…supernatural fear thing and more the fact that we—and particularly Jon—kept acting like nothing was wrong.”

“Yeah. At least you lot admit this is messed up.”

“Not so much the admitting it’s messed up as trying from the get-go not to play into it,” Jon’s voice said from the direction of the kitchen. The loveseat bounced slightly—very slightly—as he sat down, leaned into Martin’s side, and kissed his cheek. “Your cat is a menace.”

“Why is she only my cat when she’s misbehaving?” Martin teased, turning his head to capture Jon’s lips with his own before they moved away. “What’s Cosmic done now?”

“Just the fact that you know it was Cosmic Creepers—”

“The Duchess has made it very clear that she’s your cat.”

Sasha gave a mock-groan. “You two as actual parents are going to be insufferable.”

Melanie’s snort was practically elephantine. “Like you don’t have the three of these with Charlie as evidence for that.”

Martin sensed the remark calculated to cause maximum chaos coming before Tim opened his mouth, but there was nothing he could do to head him off. “So, Melanie, when are you and Georgie going to add a bundle of joy to your family?”

The resultant storm of profanity and invective directed at Tim sent Jon into paroxysms of laughter, and from the sound of it, Present Jon as well. Martin could imagine Tim’s triumphant, shit-eating grin. Even Sasha was giggling.

“Seriously. I don’t even want more than one cat,” Georgie finally said when the chaos wound down. “Children have never been in my plans. Not even remotely.”

“Have you ever thought about fostering?” Present Martin asked. “Teens, maybe? I bet you’d be good at it.”

A short silence followed the question, and when Melanie answered, there was a note of surprise in her voice. “Maybe. Not right now, though.”

“I guess my question is—and please, none of you take this the wrong way—why would you want to involve a child in the…life you’re all leading?” Georgie asked. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“No more than being a child is dangerous anyway,” Jon said. “Most of the fears don’t…a child’s fear isn’t fully formed, so it’s not as satisfying, but that doesn’t mean they don’t pay attention. I was marked young. So was Annabelle Cane. Callum Brodie was on the Dark’s radar long before Rayner chose him as a vessel. A-apparently the End was paying attention to all of us before my father died. A child being taken care of by someone who knows what’s out there, and isn’t…enamored with it, I suppose, stands a better chance than a child wholly unprepared.”

Martin rubbed Jon’s arm. “Besides. The more connections you have outside the Archives, the harder it is for the Fears to…use you. I guess. Even besides the Lonely, the more isolated you are, the easier you are to hurt.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Present Jon said, sounding like he was talking half to himself. “But it does make sense why Jonah tried so hard to pit us against one another. A person with no support is far more vulnerable. Far easier to use and manipulate.”

“And that’s what beat him in the end,” Melanie said. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

“Hear, hear.” Martin raised his mug in salute. Someone clinked a mug or glass against it, and the conversation drifted to other, less volatile topics.

They’d done this a lot over the last year. Ever since Jon, or his alter ego, had officially inherited the estate, they spent more evenings and weekends here than they did in Tim, Present Martin, and Present Jon’s house. First there’d been the intense repainting and redecorating period, during which Martin had offered deadpan commentary on color choices until Jon threatened to paint his mouth shut and Tim had unearthed more than a few artifacts belonging to other entities in various nooks and crannies. Once they were settled in, there had been pizza and pasta-making parties, movie marathons, drinks after hard weeks, and game nights. They’d come over to wrestle the garden into submission in the spring, helped decorate the house for Christmas, and watched fireworks on New Year’s from the widow’s walk on the roof. Jon had even organized an Easter Egg hunt for the neighborhood children, which had been when Martin had finally broached the idea of reaching out to the local authority about beginning the adoption process.

And exactly one year ago tonight, they had stood in the drawing room they never otherwise used and finally, finally made the bond between them a legal one.

“I can’t believe you two are spending your anniversary like this,” Sasha said, and if Martin didn’t know for a fact that she couldn’t read his mind beyond finding a back door into his dreams when Jon’s lay alongside her, he’d have told her off for it. “You’re such hopeless romantics, I expected you to go out for a candlelit dinner somewhere. Moonlit stroll in the park. Kissing under the stars.”

“It’s Thursday,” Martin reminded her.

“We’re going to Scotland for the weekend,” Jon said. “That’s part of the reason I gave everyone a three-day weekend, so we could get an early start and make the most of it.”

“I accuse you of abusing your position for your own gain,” Georgie said, but she was laughing as she did so.

“I’ll confess to that,” Jon replied immediately. Martin couldn’t help but laugh. “But seriously, we—it’s going to be a nice, relaxing weekend, but we thought spending the evening with our family would be a good start.”

Something thumped down on the coffee table. Martin guessed it was Melanie’s glass. “You know what I can’t believe? That you picked the eighteenth of October to get married. I mean, you know literally everything in the world, and certainly everything about the Institute. You had to know that was the day the Institute was founded. And then you had to spend your first anniversary making nice with the donors. Why would you do that?”

Martin looked in Jon’s direction. “You want to tell them, or shall I?”

Jon sighed heavily and dropped his head to Martin’s shoulder. “You go ahead. I’d rather not say it out loud.”

“Uh-oh.” Tim sounded worried. “This is…what happened on the eighteenth of October, 2017 in your timeline?”

“Bugger all,” Martin replied. “It was today. In our original timeline, this was when Jonah slipped his ritual into a statement and fed it to Jon against his will. Eighteenth October, 2018.” He ran his hand through Jon’s hair, which had fallen out of its braid. “We didn’t want to wait until this year to get married, but we’d already agreed that we wanted it to be the eighteenth. We wanted to take back the day Jonah Magnus tried to ruin and make it ours.”

“To replace the memories,” Present Martin said softly.

“Exactly. He’s taken too damn much from us already. We’re not letting him have everything.” Martin pressed a kiss to the top of Jon’s head.

“So where in Scotland are you going?” Present Jon asked.

“John O’Groats. It’s—Daisy used to have a safehouse up there,” Jon explained. “Well, she still has the house, but she’s just renting it out to vacationers these days. She told us we could use it for free a couple times a year as a thank-you for helping her get the Hunt under control.”

“Yeah, Basira says she’s a lot more relaxed than she was when she was a cop,” Sasha said. “If you can believe it. Is that where you two stayed…um, up until the eighteenth of October?”

“Yep.” Martin popped the P in a method that, he hoped, would indicate the subject is closed and you should not push further, Sasha James.

Thankfully, it seemed to work. Georgie was the next to speak up. “What about you three? Do you have plans for your trip to America or is it just more of a ramble?”

“We were planning to visit Boston,” Present Martin answered. “Lots of history, lots of walking trails, lots of potentially haunted stuff. But…well, Jon changed things around a couple weeks ago and he’s been vague about what we’re doing now.”

“Oh.” Present Jon sounded both embarrassed and excited. “I—ah—I’m sorry, I got so…I completely forgot I hadn’t told you. I managed to track down my cousin. You know, the one I stayed with for a bit before starting uni? He moved to a new town about the time I started at the Institute, actually. Apparently he’s married now. His husband sounds…um, interesting. And he wants to meet you two—and Charlie, too. I actually managed to get us tickets out there. I—I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind getting the chance to meet a relative that not only doesn’t hate you, but doesn’t care you’re in a relationship with two other men and is excited about the idea of meeting us? Of course we do, it sounds horrific, why would you do something like that,” Tim said flatly. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jon, we’d love to meet your cousin.”

“It’ll be fun,” Present Martin agreed. “Did you ever…I mean, have you met him?”

It took Martin a second to realize the question was directed at him. “Honestly, until you all started talking about him, I didn’t even know Jon had a cousin.”

“I’d love to see him again,” Jon said, a bit wistfully. “I do miss him. I suppose asking you to pass on my best wishes would be a little much, but…”

“I’m going to tell him,” Present Jon said softly. “About all of this. I think he deserves to know, and…I think he can handle it.”

“Well. Give me a call if you get the chance. I’d love to talk to him.”

“Of course.” Present Jon hesitated. “I—um, I think he might have a couple…statements. Something about the way he said ‘scientifically interesting’ when talking about the town. I’m going to tell him about…this, and us, and what we can do. Let him decide if he wants to share.”

Jon made a slightly pained noise, but Martin rubbed his arm soothingly and said, “You’ll probably need something. At least Tim will. That’s—you’ll be too far from the Institute for too long not to take a statement or two. Better if it’s someone willing, wouldn’t you say?”

Tim took a deep breath. “Does it ever get any easier? Needing to—sensing in your case, or seeing in mine, that someone has a statement, and needing it so badly?”

“Not really,” Jon admitted. “It’s why I don’t go out alone so often. The trouble is that sometimes it helps them and sometimes it…doesn’t, and you can never tell before they tell their stories whether it will or not. The Eye likes it better when it’s…forced, but the Eye can honestly get stuffed. We’re doing this on our terms.”

“Hell yeah,” Tim said with a laugh. Jon leaned forward at Martin’s side, and from the sounds, he guessed they were bumping their fists together.

They spent about another hour together, talking and laughing and generally relaxing. Finally, though, Present Martin asked, “How early were you two planning to head out?”

“Not until early afternoon. The social worker is coming, remember?” Martin shrugged. “But if you lot want to get going…”

“Yes, we—we should probably make sure Charlie’s in bed, and I’m sure Wade is ready to be released,” Present Jon said. There were a number of rustles and creaks as everyone got to their feet, and Martin stood, too, stretching out his spine. “Call us when you get there.”

“We will. Let us know when you get to America,” Jon replied.

“Are you taking the cats, or do you want us to stop by and look after them?” Melanie asked.

Martin paused and looked in Jon’s direction. He could practically feel his thoughts flowing between them, running through the bond Annabelle had put on them like a telegraph wire. “Well, we were going to take them, but…actually, would you mind?”

“Of course not. We’d be delighted,” Georgie said.

Jon squeezed Martin’s waist, then slid away. “Come here, then, let me show you where we keep the food.”

Martin saw the others to the door and handed out another round of hugs. Jon arrived with Georgie just before they pulled away, so was at least able to wave, and he hugged both Georgie and Melanie and thanked them again. And then it was just the two of them, alone in their house, and together.

Jon shut and latched the door, then took Martin’s hand. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?”

“Mm-hmm. Close your eyes and follow me.”

Martin smiled more broadly, but he did as Jon asked. Jon led him through the house and up three flights of stairs. It somehow didn’t surprise Martin when Jon pushed open a final door and he heard the soft sounds of an autumn evening.

“Stargazing?” he teased.

“It is a good night for it,” Jon said, not rising to the bait. “But no, not what I had in mind.” He tugged Martin forward a few feet, then added, “You can open your eyes now.”

Martin didn’t point out that it wouldn’t do any good; he simply opened his eyes. He could smell roses and peonies, he thought—the same flowers they’d decorated the drawing room with for their wedding. There was a soft click, and a tape recorder began playing—which made him smile—and then Jon was there and holding his hands. “Can I have this dance?”

Martin’s smile broadened as he recognized the song. “For the rest of your life.”

Martin let Jon lead him, singing quietly along with the music as he did so. He was still barefoot and it was a bit cold on the widow’s walk for that, but he didn’t care. It was the song they’d chosen as their first dance at their wedding, something of a fast waltz, but the lyrics had struck both of them as being so very them. As soon as Martin realized that, he also realized that this was probably the tape Tim had made for them to play at their wedding. It had been their way of ensuring that Annabelle, if she was still listening, would be able to be a part of things, too.

They still made a point of shooing out spiders and cleaning out cobwebs, but the tapes? Those could stay.

When the first song was over, rather than let Jon go, Martin simply shifted his grip and took the lead for the second song on the tape—the first song they had ever danced to, in Tim and Present Martin and Present Jon’s kitchen the night they’d moved in. He pulled Jon closer, letting their foreheads touch, and sang along to that one as well. He could feel Jon shiver in his arms and knew, knew, it wasn’t the cold that was doing it.

They slowed to a stop just before the song ended. Jon slid his arms around Martin’s neck and simply held him; Martin wrapped his around Jon’s waist and pulled him even closer until their bodies were flush, until they were practically fused into a single person.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you, too,” Jon whispered back. “Happy anniversary, Martin.”

“Happy anniversary.” Martin leaned forward and kissed him thoroughly.

Jon kissed him back, deeply and intensely and with all the emotions they had built up between them over the years: loneliness and desperation and fear, love and tenderness and hope. They had fought their damnedest for a moment they thought would never come, and now that it had, Martin was going to savor it. This and every other moment that ever could be.

At last, the need for air forced them to separate, and Jon laughed quietly. “You know what I didn’t think through about this?”

“We’re still barefoot?” Martin guessed.

“We are still barefoot,” Jon agreed. “And I’m still rather…worn out from the day. What do you say we go inside, shut the cats in their room for the night, and make use of that oversized tub in the downstairs bath?”

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” Martin said. He kissed Jon again, very softly, and then stepped back. “Lead on, Mr. Blackwood-Sims.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Blackwood-Sims,” Jon drawled. He stopped the tape with a gentle click, then laced his fingers through Martin’s, the metal of his wedding band smooth and cool against his fingers as it rolled over the webbing between them. “Come on, my love.”

Hand-in-hand, Martin and Jon, the man he’d loved for years, the man he’d fought for, fought with, the reason he had survived apocalypse after apocalypse, his anchor—his husband—turned away from the world they had somehow managed to save and into their home, into the future they had made.

Together.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jonmartim #I am glad to be with you here at the end of all things #god I can't believe this is OVER

17 notes · View notes

welllpthisishappening · 4 years ago

Text

The Couples That We Know

Technically speaking, they’re not supposed to be dating. Each other, at least.

For Killian Jones, there are plenty of reasons to like working at Pendragon Publishing. Good pay, vaguely acceptable benefits, not-that-bad coffee in the break room. But there are also some things he kind of, sort of...hates. Namely the way dating his co-worker is possibly against the rules, and how that means they can’t go to the annual holiday party. Together, at least.

So, enlisting the help of their best friends only makes sense. Pretend to date other people, avoid any hint of suspicion, and drink all the wine Pendragon’s party-planning committee can offer them. Perfect plan, really.

----

Rating: Still teen, still with some kissing Word Count: 6.1K AN: As promised, the onslaught of Christmas fic continues. This one somehow has secret dating and fake dating because I know no trope limits. Also it almost sort of follows the prompt @the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt sent in, which was "we’ve been celebrating our wedding anniversary on the wrong day for the past nine years." Attempts to follow the prompt were almost made.

Also on Ao3 if that’s your Christmas jam.

----

“You know, for this to work, you’ve got to actually stop staring at her. At least without quite so much palpable longing.” Opening his mouth, Killian has every intention of announcing how little he’s staring, but that would be a rather awful lie and it’s probably wrong to lie at Christmas. Or at least two and a half weeks before. Plus, Mary Margaret’s face makes even the thought of saying whatever he hadn’t entirely come up with impossible.

“You going to give me detention?” “I’m seriously considering it.” He sighs. Dramatically. Nearly lets his chin slump towards his chest, which would add more than a fair share of melo to that aforementioned drama, and—“You think this is a dumb idea?” Mary Margaret’s eyes widen.

Her lips practically disappear when she pushes them together that way, and Killian has to bite the side of his tongue so he doesn’t make some sort of teacher-based quip again. He really cannot afford to get sent to detention. Metaphorical, or otherwise.

“There’s no possible way for me to tell you, again, how dumb this idea is,” Mary Margaret says, and that might be the most scathing string of words he’s ever heard out of her. Telling Emma suddenly becomes something of a necessity, and that’s a problem.

The crux of their problem, really.

Eyes flitting up, Killian ignores the wholly out-of-character sound Mary Margaret lets out when his gaze darts across the room and lingers on hair that’s looking shinier than usual, as if it’s trying to distract him and overwhelm him, and both things happening simultaneously is almost too much for his brain to deal with. When he’s had two glasses of wine, already.

It’s not the best wine, actually. Killian’s not surprised. Pendragon Publishing is not especially well known for its money-spending efforts, and the annual holiday party is no different. Funded by some half-hearted party committee, that is very likely controlled by just one person, that same person does not appear to have an eye for decorating. If the copious amount of mistletoe hanging everywhere is any indication.

And the whole thing exists to drive Killian insane. Both the mistletoe, and the party. Or so he will argue. When Mary Margaret inevitably points out what a dumb idea this is, again.

She’s totally going to say it again.

“It’s going to work,” Killian mutters, but it sounds inherently unenthusiastic, and Mary Margaret’s eyes cannot widen anymore. They’ll fall out. Which will cause a scene, he imagines.

And they’re trying to avoid that.

Or, well—avoid breaking the rules, technically. They don’t want to do that. Because Pendragon might host shitty holiday parties, but it’s one of the most well-known agencies in the Tri-State area, and both Killian and Emma like their jobs. They like each other too.

Deciding to date wasn’t really part of the plan. But she makes him smile, and he considers the ability to make her consistently laugh one of his better talents, and they’re really good at kissing each other. Which is something they’ve been doing for far longer than anyone realizes. Months, actually. With post-work dinners, and weekends spent together, and Killian has started to find it harder and harder to leave her apartment in the morning, because he keeps staying at her apartment all night, and not proclaiming several rather life-altering strings of words is becoming more and more difficult.

Which brings them right back to the crux of the problem. Pendragon’s holiday party, and its presumably boxed wine, and dating other employees isn’t explicitly mentioned in the employee handbook, but it’s very likely frowned upon and showing up here together wasn’t a feasible option. No matter how much he wanted it to be.

Showing with other people, though. That made sense.

It made—sense adjacent.

“Did I tell you that you look nice?” Tilting her head, Mary Margaret’s gaze turns appraising and she wasn’t particularly pleased about having to take her ring off. It hangs on a chain that’s only occasionally fallen over the front of her dress, and David thought the whole thing was hysterical.

He sent “Mary Margaret 101” facts to Killian all week.

“You don’t have to actually woo me,” Mary Margaret counters, but there’s a bit of color on her cheeks that doesn’t have anything to do with the heat in this rented loft. It’s very warm.

“No woo’ing, just facts. Should that dress look familiar, though?” “Depends on how often you’re rummaging around the back corner of Emma’s closet.” “Not that often, but—” Mary Margaret nods before he can get the rest of the question out, smiling over the top of her glass. Filled nearly to the brim with wine that may actually be capable of eroding paint. It’s so bad. That’s probably not a metaphor for anything.

“You’ve really got to stop staring, it makes you look like a crazy person,” she adds, and to prove how capable he is of following direction Killian’s does the exact opposite. Back towards his girlfriend, and there wasn’t really a ton of planning before they dove into the deep end of this totally legitimate, absolutely will not blow up in their face plan.

Will’s arm is slung over Emma’s shoulders. “Can’t clench your jaw like that, either,” Mary Margaret mutters. Keeping the laugh out of her voice is seemingly impossible.

And rolling his whole head is juvenile, but Killian’s starting to feel a little drunk. Without any of the fun benefits. His head hurts. “Should have come up with a list.” “I could if you want.” “I do not, no.” Mary Margaret’s smile is a hint more honest, that time. It really is a nice dress. “That’s what I figured,” she says, tugging on his tie familiarly. “But you look like you’re going to challenge your own best friend to a duel.” “Swords are a requirement for that, aren’t they?” “Alexander Hamilton.” “Excuse me?” “Dueled with pistols, so—” “—Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays?” Snickering, Mary Margaret bumps her hip with his and there are at least ten unopened texts from David on Killian’s phone. Demanding update for what he was regularly referring to The Great Idiot Romance of 2020 . Although, he never mentioned that in front of Emma.

Who very likely would have won that duel, should it have occurred.

“Alright,” Mary Margaret sighs, like she hasn’t already agreed to a whole night of this, “we should probably mingle, if we’re going to make this look legit.” “Say legit again, please.” She sticks her tongue out.

“Not a very good argument, Ms. Blanchard,” he chuckles, shifting his hand to the small of her back and he supposes he should eat something. To sop up all the wine. Her expression doesn’t change. Might get more scowl-like, if anything.

And there’s likely no reason for Emma’s neck to twist the way it does, except something else vaguely melodramatic that Killian cannot think about for the next four hours, but she does and he stands up a little straighter. Presumably, at least. Mary Margaret’s reproachful tongue click is very loud.

But then Emma’s eyes are widening as well, and her lips are slightly twisted and Killian does a God awful job of winking at her.

He swears he can hear laugh — across the whole loft. Four hours at this stupid thing, max. Then he’s going to make out with his girlfriend. For possibly four hours straight. Which he imagines is a record of some sort.

“Food,” Mary Margaret declares, fingers back on his tie and she makes him eat four bacon-covered somethings before they leave the table.

To mingle. As is required by polite society and Mary Margaret Blanchard soon-to-be Nolan, and Killian quickly loses track of the number of people they smile at and the few others they nod in the general direction of, and he really should have been better prepared soon-to-be to evolve into a problem. He’s not. And Aurora’s gasp catches him off guard.

“Oh,” she cries, hands flying to her cheeks in the middle of a group of editors congregated by the floor-to-ceiling windows, and at least that’s kind of picturesque. “I didn’t know you were engaged, Killian!”

Every one of his muscles tenses. Freezes, making Killian’s ability to stay upright all the more impressive, and it’s nothing except instinct when his gaze practically flies towards Emma.

Who immediately tugs her lips behind her teeth, Will’s eyes widening to a size that would be comical in any other situation.

Mary Margaret’s jaw works — trying to find an excuse, or an explanation, but there’s not any of those things and Killian finds himself nodding again. “Yeah, yeah,” he stammers, “that’s, uh—we are totally engaged.”

“Selling it,” Mary Margaret murmurs through clenched teeth, and he considers it an exceptionally large miracle that he doesn’t point that out. She’s not doing a good job of playing her role now, either.

Aurora doesn’t notice. Another miracle. ‘Tis the season, or whatever. “So,” she presses, “have you set a date or—” Strictly speaking, biology was never one of Killian’s better school subjects, but he’s starting to wonder just how much stress the muscles in his neck can continue to cope with, and he’s all too aware of how much he’s beginning to resemble a bobblehead.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’re, uh—” Licking his lips doesn’t help their overall state, floundering under the expectant stare of half a dozen coworkers who are now heavily invested in a wholly fake relationship, and Mary Margaret’s hand threatens to crack several of his knuckles. When she laces her fingers through his.

“Thinking next winter,” she says, sounding more honest than anything else they’ve told these people. “City’s basically all decorated for us, already, you know?”

Aurora does know, it seems.

Her nod isn’t as erratic as Killian’s, is far more enthusiastic — complete with wide eyes that practically announce her interest, and the hammering of his heart against his ribcage makes it difficult to hear the footsteps that are moving towards them.

Will looks far too entertained.

Emma’s lips are still missing in action. “Couldn’t help but overhear,” Will drawls, and the duel is starting to sound very appealing, “sounds like congratulations are in order.” He’s going to kill him. Killian’s going to let go of Mary Margaret’s impressively tight grip, and he’s going to use both of his hands to strangle his best friend. Or at least ensure that he’s deprived of enough oxygen that he doesn’t continue talking.

He will enjoy it. Thoroughly.

Lifting her eyebrows when neither Mary Margaret nor Killian respond to this supposed stranger’s proclamation, Emma’s exhale is inappropriately loud. Rife with guilt, and an emotion Killian can’t quite name because being jealous of her best friend’s engagement to someone else is as absurd as anything they’ve done tonight, but it’s also kind of nice and— “Aurora, this is Will,” Emma introduces, and he’s actually got the gall to smirk in Killian’s direction. Before thrusting his hand forward, smiling a bit more good-naturedly at Aurora, who only looks slightly confused.

That’s fair.

All of this is flying off the rails, and Killian briefly considers how much of a scene it would cause if he barreled into the kitchen demanding better alcohol choices. It’s probably not worth it.

“Nice to meet you,” Aurora says, like an actual human. With normal, human thought processes and presumably fewer holiday-based lies to deal with. “We were just talking about Killian and Mary Margaret’s wedding.”

Blood floods his mouth, and Killian’s only slightly worried about running out of tongue to bite before the night is over. Mary Margaret’s fingers somehow tighten even more, threatening the blood flow to his entire right hand, and Emma is very interested in the state of her shoes.

“That’s absolutely what it sounded like,” Will grins, “when’s the happy day?” Glaring without making it obvious is actually difficult. Killian widens his eyes, but that only makes the width of Will’s mouth increase — like some literary cat, and Emma’s eyes keep closing for prolonged periods of time. Like at least several seconds.

“Next winter,” Killian bites out, “we’re getting married next winter.” “Decided on a location, yet? Gotta get that stuff in early from what I’ve heard.” “Have you just?”

Will nods, shoulders shifting ever so slightly. Like he’s trying very hard not to laugh. It’s not entirely working.

Maybe they should apologize to Aurora.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Will says, “wedding industry’s cutthroat like that. Plan months in advance, and even then you might not get your first choice.” “That’s definitely true,” Aurora agrees, and maybe Killian will just topple over. Sit down on the floor and drink an entire box of wine, and he doesn’t think anyone else notices when Emma pinches the bridge of her nose. “When Phillip and I got married, we went through a couple different venues before we found one that worked with our date.” “Sounds hectic,” Killian mumbles. Talking was a mistake. His voice doesn’t even sound like his own, Emma’s gaze snapping up in unspoken warning, and he’s worried he’s using up his miracle supply. So as not to cry out at the overall force of Mary Margaret’s fingers.

All five of which were apparently blessed with mutant-type strength.

“Luckily we’ve got that covered,” she says, brightly and only a little disingenuous.

Emma blinks. “Yeah?” “Yup. Did you know you can get a permit for a Central Park wedding for like fifteen bucks?” “Wow, that’s—that sounds really nice, actually.” “Depends on whether or not it snows, but—” Mary Margaret shrugs, and none of them are lying anymore. Well, at least not quite as blatantly as five seconds before. Will’s smile almost looks legitimate.

“You’re thinking of an outdoor wedding?” Aurora asks. “In the winter?” Another shrug, hints of color rising on Mary Margaret’s cheeks. “Early December, and we probably won’t be outside for very long. Mostly just the ceremony, and some of the pictures. There’s a certain kind of romanticism to the city in December, isn’t there?” Aurora doesn’t look overly convinced. Killian barely notices — is admittedly very preoccupied with the look on Emma’s face, and how it almost feels a little wistful and maybe just as romantic and not kissing her is somehow a victory and loss all at the same time.

“You know,” Aurora says slowly, like she’s about to impart a crucial piece of information on them, “if we’re being honest, I am actually surprised this is happening.” One of Killian’s fingers flutters. Where it’s tangled with Mary Margaret’s, and Emma hasn’t blinked in years. Possibly longer. “Weddings? Or another wonderful event put on by Pendragon?”

“Bet they didn’t try and find this venue that far in advance,” Will mumbles. Emma closes her eyes. That’s like—half a blink, at least.

Aurora shakes her head, still looking far more serious than the situation requires. “No, no, no, well...you and Emma are always together at work, aren’t you?”

Breathing is a challenge.

Gritting his teeth less so, the overall tension in Killian’s jaw threatening to do permanent damage. Emma hasn’t opened her eyes yet.

“We’re friends,” he reasons, and if he were actually engaged to Mary Margaret he’d be almost offended by this whole conversation.

Lying likely robs him of any right to relationship-based offense, though.

“Oh no, no, I know,” Aurora says, without sounding entirely honest, “and I’m sure it’ll be a gorgeous wedding. Just—if we had to guess, I think most people at Pendragon would have thought it’d be the two of you.” If nothing else, this night has provided a massive insight into all the facial expressions Mary Margaret is capable of making. At least half a dozen that Killian was previously unaware of, including the current one — a mix of disgust and appropriate scandal, and Killian resists the urge to point out that he and Emma probably couldn’t date, even if they wanted to, which they are, but that’s...that’s beside the point.

Entirely. Like a different hemisphere from the point.

Aurora gives a tight-lipped smile.

“When did you and—” Will clicks his teeth, effectively redirecting the conversation. “—Phillip, was it?” Aurora hums. “Guessing you two didn’t get married in the winter, did you?” Whatever else she says gets lost in the buzz between Killian’s ears, the overall state of his heart continuing to threaten the structural integrity of his ribs, and Mary Margaret gives his hand several squeezes. To recapture his attention and whatever professionalism he’s barely clinging to, and she’d been right about romanticism.

Of which he’s clearly bordering on hopeless at this point.

Emma smiles.

And Aurora excuses herself eventually — Phillip appearing like an unknowing brunette knight in conversational-armor, all four of them nearly exhaling in tandem.

“So,” Will says, “scale of one to ten, how much did we suck at that?” “A forty-seven,” Mary Margaret replies, head lolling onto Killian’s shoulder while he finally lets out the scoff that’s been bubbling in the center of his throat.

“Next winter, huh? For real?” She makes a noise that’s presumably some sort of agreement, and Emma’s smile doesn’t waver. “Thinking about it. If Scarlet will double check with Belle about taking pictures in front of the library.” “Public property,” he replies, “don’t have to double check.” “But can we go inside at some point?” Killian asks.

“Wimping out about temperature already?” “Expressing concerns, like Aurora who is—” “—A wedding genius, apparently,” Emma mutters, and Mary Margaret’s shoulders shake. She still hasn’t touched her wine. Eventually that will prove important.

“Got a lot of opinions when it comes to other people’s plans, at least.”

“Eh,” Will argues, “did we give her much of a chance to delve into those opinions, or was Killian too busy making eyes at Emma?”

Continuing to open his mouth without actually saying any words is frustrating. For Killian. And the state of his heart, which cannot seem to find a rhythm anymore. Especially when Emma flushes, and threatens to stare a hole into the floor and of the two dresses she owns that are currently making the rounds at this party, the one she’s actually wearing is better.

Probably because she’s wearing it.

“I told you,” Mary Margaret grumbles, without any of her previous ability to chastise. She sounds almost amused.

“Although,” Will adds, “Emma’s not doing much better, so—” Huffing out a breath only serves to flutter the few strands of hair that frame either side of Emma’s face, and that’s only vaguely messing with Killian’s perception of...reality, maybe. “Ok, you do not get to point out my own,” she leans closer, like that will help the volume of her next few words, “fake relationship shortcomings.” “Why not? It’s making all of this endlessly entertaining.” “I’m a better fake date than you,” Mary Margaret says. “You had to use your own wedding plans because you can’t take your ring off.” “That is nice!” People likely don’t turn the way Killian’s brain has already convinced him they do, but every one of Emma’s teeth is visible when she grits them like that and both of their potentially-obvious fake dates look properly ashamed.

“Sorry,” Will grumbles, while Mary Margaret twists her heel and whispers, “no more wedding talk, I promise.” Emma laughs. That’s—surprising. And it’s not quite the laugh Killian’s also started claiming as his, but that feels almost possessive, and she’s definitely carrying less tension between her shoulders than he is. “I think that ship has sailed,” she says. “Should have thought about your outfit beforehand.” “Killian likes the dress,” Mary Margaret smiles.

“Yeah, well Killian likes me, so…” Tugging Emma against his side, Will lets out another noise that will only garner them more attention, and people are starting to dance. The party fund could not afford a band. Or a DJ. Or anything more than what sounds like slightly muffled speakers and someone’s Spotify premium account. Killian hopes it’s premium, at least.

Hearing ads in the middle of this instrumental Christmas music might be the last straw. For his sanity.

“Well,” Will says, “if Mary Margaret’s going to start planning weddings, then I guess I do have to step my game up. C’mon, Em—let’s show ‘em what we’ve got.”

“And what do we have, exactly?” “Impeccable rhythm, and the lingering knowledge of a Groupon dance class.” “Do people still use Groupon?” Emma challenges, and Killian loves her an absolutely ridiculous amount. For several thousand things, but at this very moment, it’s mostly how her voice causes Will’s eyes to bug again and his tongue to poke between his lips and maybe the whole night isn’t a total disaster. He should tell her he loves her.

Sooner rather than later.

“My girlfriend,” Will replies, “who will totally be able to sneak Mary Margaret and David into the New York Public Library to avoid frostbite and ensure very pretty pictures, presumably on that fancy staircase they’ve got.” “Nothing sets the tone for a winter wedding like some casual breaking and entering,” Killian says, barely containing his grunt when Mary Margaret’s foot shifts. On top of his.

Emma rolls her eyes.

They’re just playing the soundtrack to A Charlie Brown Christmas now.

“We’d appreciate whatever rules Belle could break for us,” Mary Margaret promises, “and will not mention that she’s the only person still using Groupon. Like, in the world.”

Will’s tongue is going to dry out. “Get on my fake date level, almost-Nolan.” “Shout that louder, please,” Emma groans. “And does the staircase not have a name? Fancy staircase cannot possibly be the acceptable vernacular.” “Probably not, because no one actual uses the word vernacular in actual conversation. Now you’re just trying to show off.” “Sound suspiciously like you’re impressed with my vast vocabulary, Scarlet.”

“Product of your profession.” “Grand, I think,” Killian says, fully prepared for Emma’s slightly parted lips. He will argue he’s prepared, at least. One of his knees does threaten to buckle though, and Will’s current eye-roll rate cannot possibly be healthy.

“The profession?”

“The staircase.”

“Oh. That’s pretty lame, actually. It doesn’t have like a—staircase sponsor?” “Not that I’m aware of, but the entrance hall is called Astor Hall.” “Similar to the place of the same name?” Will quips. “Or—” “—The guy from the Titanic?” Mary Margaret finishes. “Why do you know about this?”

Killian lifts one shoulder. The one not currently providing rest for Mary Margaret’s head. “I know everything, a good fake-girlfriend would know that.” “And a legitimate girlfriend would dispute that,” Emma says, “plus, the Astors own or have endowed like half of New York. This is not impressive knowledge, and don’t get Mary Margaret talking about Titanic, she’ll start waxing poetic about Leonardo DiCaprio.” “I do have a longstanding crush on Leonardo DiCaprio,” Mary Margaret admits. “If I start quoting things about a real party and point out that Kate Winslet was willing to dance, will that get you guys to move?” Will demands. “Because we’re starting to draw attention and that’s probably not going to help our quest.” “It’s a quest now?” Killian asks.

“Way more dramatic that way, so yeah.” “Please don’t start quoting Titanic at me,” Emma requests, pulling on the front of Will’s jacket and it’s a testament to their dedication to this ridiculous plan, or quest, that he wore a jacket. No matter how bad a plan it might be.

Or quest. Whatever, honestly.

“Alright,” she continues, “show off the lessons, or I’ll make fun of you for the foreseeable future.” Will winks. Not well, but possibly better than Killian is capable of, and he’s going to blame the wine. “Prepare to be absolutely wowed, m’dear.”

Rolling her eyes doesn’t do anything to shift the smile off Emma’s face, although she does look at Killian before she moves and the jealousy clouding his overall sense of being is as antiquated as the music and as absurd as anything else.

Impressive, considering their overall barometer for absurd.

“When do you think Aurora got married?” Killian asks, rolling his head towards a sympathetic-looking Mary Margaret. “Spring? June? That’s cliché, right?” “June,” she echoes. “Probably required her dozen bridesmaids to help her hand-make table favors, too. Just to really drive the point home. You want something else to drink?” “Yes, obviously.” Narrowing her eyes slightly when she nods, makes it more difficult to look at her — but that might also have something to do with the amount of alcohol Killian’s already consumed, and he really does appreciate how often Mary Margaret keeps making him eat. Even when it appears everything on this catering menu comes with bacon. “Don’t do that, ok?” he asks, at least two of their allotted four party-hours later.

She lifts her eyebrows. “Keep texting my fiancé?” “Maybe you are the worse fake date.” “Well, you’re speaking in tongues now, so—” Shrugging, Mary Margaret’s shoulder doesn’t collide with Killian’s, but he’s also starting to feel a little buzzed. And hating bacon. And possibly happiness. On principle.

Will and Emma keep dancing. Which also keeps them from having to interact with anyone else, but his buzzed-mind doesn’t care, and this whole thing was mostly his idea and that’s starting to really annoy him.

That might be his base setting at this point.

“Bacon,” Killian clarifies, “don’t allow the national obsession with bacon to affect your food decisions when you—” Footsteps move by them, curious eyes and he’s not a frog, so his blood cannot possibly run cold. Plus, it’s honestly way too warm in this room. “We,” he amends, somehow rushing over two letters, and Mary Margaret noticeably sags against his side. “What was that about this being a dumb idea?” “Ah, getting fired at Christmas-time sucks. How will you buy us all presents, then?” Laughing helps loosen the knot of emotion that’s been growing increasingly tight in Killian’s chest, and the ends of Mary Margaret’s lips quirk up when he kisses the top of her hair. “Bacon is vastly overrated, though,” she adds, “people are obsessed with it.” “It’s weird, right?” “Definitely. Should I apologize for getting you engaged against your will?” Kissing her hair again is easier than responding, because responding might force Killian to contend with a lot of life-type plans he’s only half concocted, and he really should tell Emma he loves her first. Like, more than he realized.

Until he had to pretend he didn’t.

“Nah, but you can explain it to David because I don’t want my story to get interrupted when he inevitably starts laughing.” “You wanna dance?” Smirking at her does not have the same effect it has on Emma. And that’s definitely a good thing, but Killian’s drifting towards melancholy and the music isn’t instrumental anymore. Michael Bublé is a Christmas requirement, though.

He flips his wrist.

“Sweep you off your feet, Miss Blanchard.” She’s closing in on Will for number of pointed, if not passably amused, eye rolls. Still, Mary Margaret’s hand lands in his, and Emma’s eyes definitely drift towards them — which is as bad as it is good, and Michael Bublé’s version Santa Baby might actually be the worst thing that’s happened to any of them. All night.

“Not exactly the pinnacle of music, is it?” Killian mumbles, and Mary Margaret hasn’t stepped on his foot. Or pointed out how close they linger to Will and Emma, both of whom look as unenthused by the music choices.

And maybe it’s because he keeps staring, or possibly because Will is not the asshole he likes to pretend to be, but Killian is not entirely prepared for his friend to spin his fake date closer, or mutter something about cutting in that makes Mary Margaret laugh and Emma’s jaw drop and she steps on his foot.

It’s the best thing that’s happened to him. All night.

“We are not good at this,” Emma says, but she doesn’t sound all that upset about it and the buzz between his ears lessens. Turns into something warm and hopeful, and she’s close enough that he can smell her shampoo.

“Something to be said for effort though, right?” “I’m not sure we’re making much of an effort.”

Nosing at her hair proves her point, but Killian’s—an idiot, and willing to blame romance, and the holiday season, and all the wine. So much. Even more bacon. God, he hates bacon. “Scarlet’s not subtle. And you look incredible.” “Do those sentiments go together?” “No,” Killian answers, “but true all the same.” “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Twirling her away, only to bring her back just as quickly, Killian doesn’t try very hard to avoid the smirk. So, he’s kind of a glutton too. For punishment, and poorly-timed emotions, and there’s a rather obvious glint in Emma’s eyes that leaves him breathless. Plus, she sort of slams back into his chest. “God,” she grumbles, “lacking some grace, huh?” “Eh, we’ll get there.” “Will we just?” He only realizes what he’s said when he notices the way her voice drops — rasped between lips that are redder than usual, and difficult to hear over goddamn Michael Bublé, and he’s totally staring at her lips. Obviously, he’s sure. “Yeah,” Killian nods. “Guaranteed.”

Part of him worries. Suddenly, Immediately. Overwhelming—ly. But Emma doesn’t move, and they’re more swaying than dancing now, and Mary Margaret’s footsteps are rushed. In a dramatic, everything is blowing up sort of way.

That sucks, admittedly.

“What are you—” Emma starts, but Mary Margaret just shakes her head. Yanking on Killian’s sleeve, she threatens to rip the fabric and he’s never heard her use any of those words.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she hisses.

Killian tilts his head. “Be more specific.”

“Lance Sinqua is here. Is he supposed to be here? Why didn't either of you tell me he was going to be here?”

“He works in acquisitions, I think.” “I thought you knew everything,” Emma teases, and he has to bite the other side of his tongue. To stop from kissing her.

Making out, more like. “I’ve had a lot of wine,” Killian reasons, “Should I be more concerned about why Sinqua being at his own holiday party is a problem?” Swatting at his side with both hands, Mary Margaret all but snarls. Emma looks appropriately surprised. “I know him,” Mary Margaret says, pausing between every word for emphasis. “And he has seen me.” What feels like the weight of several words and half a dozen ridiculous plans and/or quests fall into the pit of Killian’s stomach. Where they immediately crush a variety of internal organs. “Will’s distracting him now,” Mary Margaret explains, “but—he doesn’t know David personally, just that I’ve got a boyfriend—” “—Fiancé,” Emma corrects lightly, but the tone changes again and Killian’s never gone into shock before. He assumes it feels suspiciously like this.

“I do not care; at all. Just—Killian, you’ve got to come. Now. Like right now.”

Nodding hurts his neck again, but Killian’s legs move on their own and his hand finds Mary Margaret’s and thinking about the look on Emma’s face isn’t healthy. Makes him want to stand on a table, or something equally absurd. Shout several things from several different rooftops, and he wonders if she’ll have to wear a red dress for the wedding.

The real one, not whatever one he and Mary Margaret are going to lie about.

And to his credit, Will’s attempts to run distraction do look admirable. Moving hands and a nearly legitimate smile, while Lance nods in interest and continued conversation, and Killian squeezes Mary Margaret’s hand. In what he hopes is solidarity.

“Hey,” Will exhales, as soon as he sees them, “here he is.” Killian’s cheeks ache. “Present and accounted for. You must be Lance, Mary Margaret said you’re old friends.” “Ah, I don’t know about old,” Lance objects, “but certainly the rest of it. I didn’t know she’d be here, would have asked you guys for drinks before or something.”

There’s really no word for the sound Mary Margaret makes at that. Part squeak, and what sounds like an admission, but that says a lot more about Killian’s growing guilt and residual jealousy and—

“How long have you two been engaged?”

Racking his brain, Killian’s had too much to drink for this. He’s dimly aware of Mary Margaret swaying closer to him, Will’s grimace all but broadcasting how unprepared they are for that particular question, but it also seems like he’s trying to tell Killian something. He does not understand. Fuck boxed wine, quite frankly.

He opts for honesty.

Sort of.

It worked for Mary Margaret, after all.

Sort of.

“We’ve, uh—” Killian starts, “—been engaged only a couple of weeks, but...we’ve been dating since March.”

Will’s shoulders droop. His eyes turn imploring, but he can’t actually say anything and Lance is, so it absolutely does not matter. “March?” he echoes. “Your friend said it was kind of a whirlwind romance. Got together in the summer.” His mouth does more than open. His jaw drops, nearly to his ankles and shoes that he actually got polished because this party isn’t super important, but Killian wanted to look nice on his fake date and Mary Margaret’s hand is the only reason he doesn’t fall over.

“Ah,” Killian breathes, “right. That’s—yeah, that’s right.” Lance doesn’t look convinced, either. He should go talk to Aurora. Who keeps glancing at Emma, like she’s got like SONAR. Joke doesn’t even make sense. In Killian’s head.

“We’ve been celebrating a bunch of different anniversaries,” Mary Margaret cuts in, speaking so quickly it’s as if that lie jumps out of her mouth, does cartwheels and then gets a four from the Russian judge for lack of proper execution. “Y'know...romance, and everything. He’s uh—Killian must be thinking of when we met.” Lance quirks an eyebrow. He might hate Lance. He definitely hates Lance. “You’ve only known each other since March.” “Oh my God,” Will mumbles, scratching behind his ear. And really, that’s not what does it. But it’s certainly a tipping point, or a metaphorical straw, and Killian nods once before he lifts Mary Margaret’s hand to his mouth, mumbles thanks against her knuckles and marches directly towards his actual girlfriend.

Who is standing directly under the mistletoe.

It’d be more impressive if she wasn’t, honestly.

And the music doesn’t stop — although Killian can’t really hear it either, an arm finding Emma’s waist, and her hands landing flat against his chest and someone cheers. Will. It’s definitely Will. Heads turn towards them, surprise coloring more than a few of their co-workers faces, while others look...less so.

Killian doesn’t bother dwelling on that. He’s got more important things to do.

“I’m pretty ridiculously in love with you,” he says, Emma’s eyes getting brighter and her lips as distracting as ever. Several of the less-than-surprised faces aww. Audibly. Which doesn’t quite make sense, but he’s still not dwelling and—“Not admitting to dating you is driving me nuts.” “When is your lease up?” “What?” “Were those words confusing in that order?” Emma asks, infusing the question with false confidence that he can hear perfectly and she should have confidence in spades. At least when it comes to this.

Maybe if they get to keep their jobs.

“A little,” Killian concedes. “Are you—do you want me to move in with you?” “A ridiculous amount.”

“That’s admittedly not the best adjective I could have used.” “Eh, I won’t get particular with syntax.” “Stop showing off,” Will yells, “and kiss other directly on the mouth!”

There’s a general hum of agreement — even while Lance continues to look a little confused, and Aurora looks a little offended, both of which makes sense because they were fairly awful liars, and someone’s given Arthur a microphone. So the owner of Pendragon Publishing can tell them, “Literally everyone knew, you both suck at not making out in the break room.”

Heat wafts off Emma, climbs up Killian’s neck and takes root in both of his cheeks and Arthur is not done.

“It’s not encouraged. Intra-office relationships, usually way more trouble than they’re worth, but, well—all you really need to do is sign some paperwork with HR and maybe find some other corners that are less obvious.” Nodding slowly only makes it more obvious the kind of strain all of Killian’s muscles are under, but he can’t come up with a feasible response to that and Emma’s fingers curl. Into his shirt, and he imagines that makes it easier — when she yanks him forward, lips slanting over his and she doesn’t have to push up the way she normally does. Still, Killian’s fairly certain he hears one of her heels pop out of her shoes, and if this is how it feels when a heart beats its way out of a person’s chest, it’s actually fairly comfortable.

“I love you too,” Emma mumbles, against his mouth. So, the only reasonable response is to kiss her again. Several times over.

And they do fill out paperwork, eventually — the story of the fake date fiasco, as David comes to call it, perfect fodder for Emma’s maid of honor speech, and proof positive of the inherent romanticism of the city at Christmas.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #i was not kidding about the amount of christmas fic #i've got three more prompts to write and also the blue line stuff i rewrote and a new time travel chapter tomorrow #guess who's stressed in a holiday sort of way???

63 notes · View notes

settersloveletters · 4 years ago

Note

hello i recently saw a post about sugar daddy kenma and i immediately thought like cld u write an angst (w good ending maybe?) w sugar daddy kenma but he actually falls in love w the reader but thinks she's just there for the money bc obviously she's a sugar baby and her being in love w kenma but thinks o well he probably has other sugar babies so it doesn't mean anything if that makes sense ckfmsk

— 11:11; oneshot

a/n: this one was actually so fun to write, but it took me maybe more than 6 hours to write and it’s currently 6 am aha (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ anyways, i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it ♡ this also became over the word limit for our scenarios so i made it into a oneshot whoops

➳ request: kenma is y/n’s sugar daddy who falls in love with her + angst

➳ characters: sugar daddy!kenma x sugar baby f!reader

➳ word count: 3.4k

➳ warnings: daddy kink + light nsfw

➳ admin: kiri ♡

↳ lowercase intended

[9:01] kenma: did you get the gift darling?

[9:01] y/n: yes daddy, i love it <33

[9:02] y/n: image.jpeg

kenma smirked to himself after opening the image of you showing off his latest gift for you. having been in a ‘sugaring’ relationship with you for a little over a year, he knew what you were into. meaning he knew what types of gifts that would get you riled up. his gift for you this time was a baby pink soft sheer slip on dress. you always loved pastel colours over the usual dominating red and black colours other sugar babies would choose.

[9:05] y/n: baby :(

[9:05] y/n: did you not like the picture :(

oh how lucky kenma was to have a sugar baby like you. you were definitely one of a kind in the world.

[11:06] kenma: sorry love, i was just admiring how delectable you look in that little dress i got you

[11:06] kenma: why don’t you come over tonight?

[11:07] y/n: i’m sorry baby i can’t :(

[11:07] y/n: you know i have that paper i need to write for my psychology class

and there was the one flaw about you. whenever kenma suggested you coming over to his place, not to do anything dirty you h-word people, you always managed to be busy. whether it be with work, or school, even when he offered to pay for your rent and your tuition. you always declined.

that’s where kenma’s thoughts split into two. you never asked for anything really. it was usually kenma giving you gifts he thought you would enjoy, which you did. however, when it came to spend more time together privately, you gently declined. he would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do, don’t get him wrong, but he did in fact want to get closer to you.

why you ask? why would a sugar daddy that agreed to a no-sex relationship want to get intimately closer with his sugar baby? well the answer was simple of course.

he fell in love with you.

after one year of texting, one year of taking you out on little dates to the aquarium or on a picnic at the park, kozume kenma had fallen in love, with you. to the unsuspecting eye, the two would seem like a normal couple, and not as a sugar daddy and a sugar baby. if only that were true. at least to kenma.

[11:10] kenma: that’s okay darling, you know how much i want you to focus on school

[11:10] y/n: i knew you’d understand

[11:11] y/n: 11:11, make a wish baby :)

i wish that you felt the same as me. i wish that we weren’t in this type of relationship. i wish that i could just call you mine. i wish that i could just shower you with love. i wish that you loved me, as much as i loved you.

[11:11] kenma: i wish that my darling would go focus on her paper so that i could take her out on another date

[11:11] y/n: daddy why are you so cute :(

[11:12] kenma: what’s your wish my love

[11:12] y/n: tsk tsk, it’s 11:12 and you know the rules daddy

[11:12] kenma: oh how you tease me darling

kenma laughed time himself at the banter you both had. you were completely different than the other girls he has ever encountered. the way you were down to earth, yet the playfulness you had deep down. kenma loved everything about you. but he doubted that you would ever feel the same about him. for now he was content with what you had. as much as it hurt, he didn’t wanna lose you.

[11:13] y/n: i better go finish that paper, i’ll talk to you later baby

[11:13] kenma: how about tomorrow we go out after your classes are done. we can go to your favourite café to celebrate the coming of a new weekend.

[11:14] y/n: mm, sounds great i’ll see you tomorrow <3

kenma went to bed that night, dreaming about the moment he would get to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you into his chest as you both fall asleep to each other’s soft breathing

kenma waited in his car a metres away from the entrance to your university. he decided to surprise you and pick you up and drive together to your favourite café. that was his plan at least. until he got a new text message from you.

[5:05] y/n: i’m so sorry daddy, but something came up :( can we reschedule that café date

as disappointed as kenma was, he knew that you would never cancel one of your outings together unless for a good reason. he was too soft for you.

[5:06] kenma: don’t worry about it darling, are you alright?

[5:06] y/n: yeah dw i’m fine, i’ll talk to you later tonight tho <33

putting his phone away, kenma drove off gripping his steering wheel. it’s been a week or two since he last saw you in person and he missed you. he missed seeing your smile in person. missed hearing your soft voice. the way your laugh sounded like he was in heaven. kenma was definitely head over heels in love with you.

sighing to himself, he decided to head over to your favourite café anyways since he himself liked their dark roast coffee. he parked a few feet away from the café, next to the curb side of the main road. just when he was about to get out, a familiar figure could be spotted from the corner of his eye. he looked up to see you walking out of the café you two visited often together with another man dressed in a nice suit.

kenma’s heart stopped. who was that man you were with? was he another sugar daddy of yours? is he the reason why you cancelled on him? were you really just like the other girls, seeking out any man that would waste their money on you? kenma glared at the back of both yours and the mysterious man’s heads. he really thought you were content with what you both had already. you told him that he was the only guy that served as a sugar daddy for you. but now, it looked like you wanted more. and kenma was not having it.

from that moment, kenma started to distance himself from you. he stopped texting you all the time. cut down the gifts he sent you, and just forced himself to stop thinking about you. that was easier said than done.

of course you noticed, and you even tried to ask him what was wrong. always getting a dry reply or no reply at all. you were confused. one second you both were having your usual

fun and playful banter, and the next second kenma’s giving you the cold shoulder. could it be that he got bored of you?

did he start to seek out other sugar babies? you really believed that you and him had something special. a bond that would only occur once in a thousand lifetimes. as much as you wanted to figure out what was wrong, you already had your hands busy with something else, not to mention that you knew kenma that well to know when he was in one of his moods to leave him be or else he would snap. so you ignored the thoughts of him seeking other sugar babies and hoped that whatever was making him sad would cease.

kenma glared at the two figures that were outside his car. as hard as he tried, kenma just had to see you again. he missed you that much. he went against what his brain was telling him and followed his heart, which led him to your condo building late one night. the condo building where you were currently outside of with the same mysterious man he saw at the café. he assumed the very worst. you did in fact get another sugar daddy. and by the looks of you inviting him up to your place, kenma guessed that you had a completely different relationship with him than what you two agreed on. maybe you were just with him for his money. you really weren’t different at all.

kenma had enough. he drove himself to the closest bar and got himself completely wasted. who doesn’t want a drink when their heart was just ripped out of their chest and stomped on. kenma drinking was a rare occurrence that happened once or twice every few months. he would need to be be completely out of his mind to bring himself to a bar to just drink like a mad man. and that’s what he was doing then and there.

after an hour or so, kenma was completely gone. he wasn’t one of those drunkards who would stagger around or outside the bar mouthing off whatever was on their minds. no kenma was one of the silent types. but they do say that the silent ones are the most deadly ones. as he was sitting at the bar table, kenma brought out his phone. opening a text chat he hasn’t opened in a while.

[11:09] kenma: fuck you

[11:09] kenma: i hate you so much

[11:09] y/n: kenma? are you okay?

ordering yet another drink, kenma flares at the screen in front of him.

[11:10] kenma: i never wanna see your lying, gold-digging face ever again

[11:10] kenma: you’re the worst thing that ever happened to me

[11:10] y/n: kenma, baby? were you out drinking? what are you even saying?

[11:11] kenma: oh look it’s your favourite time of the day. eleven-fucking-eleven. let’s see what do i wish for this time. i wish that i never fucking met you. i wish that i could go in time and stop myself from agreeing to meet you. because all you are is another lying slut that would do anything for money. i wish that i could erase everything i know about you. i wish that you and me never happened.

[11:11] kenma: it doesn’t matter. i don’t care about you. i have all these other sugar babies that would come crawling to me. you’re just another bitch that’s desperate for money.

[11:12] y/n: if you have all these other bitches then you really don’t need me. goodbye kozume kenma. screw you.

[11:12] y/n: this person has blocked you. you can no longer send any messages.

after all that happened last night, kenma was somehow in the right state of mind to not drunk drive and managed to message his best friend, kuroo tetsuro. coincidentally, kuroo was the same person who introduced you to kenma. kuroo, after seeing his friend’s text, picked kenma up from the bar and dropped him off at his house leaving the poor guy to wake up with a massive hangover. kenma remembered everything that happened. it didn’t help that he still had the text messages on his phone, yet he couldn’t bare to delete them for some odd reason.

the rest of the week followed slowly for kenma, as he tried to adjust his life without you. fate had different plans though. it wasn’t done with you and kenma.

although kenma had newfound bitter memories, the café you and kenma went to had his favourite coffee. as kenma fixed the cuffs of his suit, walking up to the café doors, he bumped into someone.

“sorry about that.” he heard a deep voice apologize.

kenma looked up, his eyes widening as he realized the man that bumped into him was the same man he always saw with you. oh how fate loved to toy with the both of you. before either kenma or the man could say anything, a soft voice could be heard coming out of the café.

“dad, are you sure you’re gonna be okay taking the train back ho- kenma?” before you could finish your sentence you stopped right next to your father and stared at the man that broke your heart just a week ago. even then, you could feel something pulling at your chest as you stared at the pudding headed male.

“don’t worry about me y/n, your old man isn’t that hopeless anymore.” your dad chuckled, ruffling your hair despite your protests. “besides it seems like you know this gentleman, might as well spend the afternoon together. i’ll take off now.”

your father gave a small kiss to your forehead before getting into a taxi that would drive him to the closest train station. the air suddenly turned tense as both you and kenma looked anywhere but each others’ eyes.

breaking the silence kenma asked, “that was your father?”, to which you simply nodded playing with your fingers. it was a habit that you did whenever you were feeling anxious about something. kenma grinned at the thought.

“i-i better go.” you started to walk off, before kenma grabbed your wrist halting your movements.

“wait, we need to talk.”

you turned your head and stared at him. kenma’s eyes widened as he stared into yours. he could see them start to glass, filled with hurt and rage. hurt and rage caused by him.

“don’t you have some other girls to attend to?” you bitterly spat out turning away again. you grit your teeth as you tried to hold in your tears.

“y/n, please-“

“i have nothing to say to you.” you said, pulling your wrist away. you started to walk off until his voice could be heard,

“please y/n, i’ll give you space. just please meet me at our spot at 10:00 tonight.”

you didn’t say anything and walked off, leaving kenma to watch as your figure disappeared down the sidewalk.

10:30

you still weren’t there. kenma sat on the swing that hung from the big oak tree above him. 30 minutes past the initial time he told you, and you still weren’t there. kenma was just about to give up and go home, when he heard your familiar light footsteps. he looked up to see you there, shining in the moonlight.

“you came.” he breathed out, relieved. you gave him a sheepish smile, before taking a seat next to him on the swing.

the two of you swung in silence, just admiring the night sky in silence. this place was memorable for you both. it was where you both first went out, and agreed to a sugar daddy/baby relationship. you both visited this place often as it wasn’t well known around the community, but was close enough to kenma’s place. it held a special place in both your hearts.

“i was drunk and stupid and i didn’t know what i was saying.” kenma said, breaking the silence. “i was just so angry and hurt when i saw you with someone else at our café. i thought you were seeing another man when you told me you weren’t.”

you stayed silent, waiting for kenma to continue.

“i know that doesn’t excuse the fact that i got drunk and texted you all these things that are definitely not true and i can’t believe i even said those things to you”

“you called me, and i quote, ‘a lying slut that would do anything for money.” you said, a bitter-tone lacing those words.

“i know, and i regret everything i said. i-i was just hurt and the next thing i knew i was drinking and texting you, and i just wanna reverse everything that happened.” kenma bent over, putting his head in his hands.

“well it’s not like you’re the only one at fault,” you said, “i was keeping something from you after all.”

kenma glanced up at you, as you stared at the full moon which was your only source of light.

“that man you probably saw, which by now you probably know, was my dad. he was in a rough spot ever since i was young, my mom dying too soon and leaving my dad to raise me as a child.” you started off.

“he’s had trouble with money and it was becoming too much for me. once i turned 18 i left my hometown and moved here. got a job and worked hard to pay for my rent and my schooling.” kenma saw you smile sadly at the ground.

“why didn’t you tell me, you know i could’ve-“ he started to say before you cut him off.

“i didn’t wanna ask for your help. you already do so much for me, asking help for this matter was something i was never gonna bring up.”

you both stayed silent again.

“so what happened after?” kenma asked as he glanced at you.

“well my dad contacted me a few months ago, probably 6 months into what started between us. and i helped him find a stable job. he came down to visit me after so long of not seeing each other.” you explained.

kenma let out a breathy laugh, throwing his head back as he held his arm over his eyes. he couldn’t believe that he was that jealous, that insecure, that crazy about you.

“you drive me insane.” he said.

“well the feelings mutual.” you shot back.

kenma sat upright and stared at you. the silence returned once again, and the both of you just stared at each other. kenma brought a hand up to your cheek, brushing the surface with his thumb. leaning into his hand, you gazed at him.

after weeks of not seeing each other, or even touching each other it looked like you two were at your limits. as kenma leaned down, you leaned up and the both of you met in the middle, lips connecting as both of kenma’s hands cupped your face. you wrapped your arms around his neck, to which kenma broke away from your lips and moved down your jawline, giving you small kisses up until he got to your neck.

“kenma,” you breathed out.

“ah ah, what did you call me?” he brought his mouth back up to the side of your head, softly biting your earlobe.

“d-daddy,” you panted out, your mind going crazy as kenma continued to plant kisses around your neck.

“that’s my girl,” he praised.

you and kenma burst through his front door still attached to one another, as kenma pushed you against the wall right when you entered the apartment. putting a knee in between your legs, kenma unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt, showing your collarbone. as kenma planted more love-bites across your chest, his hands roamed your waist.

you tried to hold in the sounds you were making, however that did not sit well with kenma. with one hand, he held your hands above your head, and with the other he grabbed your face to make you look at him.

“what did i say about holding in those cute little sounds for me”

“t-that you would punish me.” you whimpered. smirking, kenma lifted you by the thighs and carried you off to his bedroom.

once kenma shut his bedroom door he threw you into his bed, climbing over you and stealing your pair of lips once again. kenma glanced over at the clock that sat on his dresser and pulled away from you.

“look what time it is my love” he said softly to you. you turned your head to the clock he was staring at and before your eyes read the time, 11:11.

“11:11, make a wish” you smiled softly at kenma. he brought his head down once again, giving you a small peck on the lips.

“i wish that i had the courage to tell you this sooner.” he muttered.

“tell me what?” you asked, a genuine look of confusion danced across your face.

“that i love you. that i’ve been in love with you. that i wish we would drop this sugar daddy and sugar baby relationship and just become a real couple” kenma whispered softly, hoping you didn’t hear him.

however, hearing everything he just said, you brought his face down to your lips once again, before pulling away saying, “well my love what if i told you i could make that wish a reality”

kenma let out a breath of relief, before stealing your lips once again. he started to unbutton the rest of your shirt as he moved down your neck, giving you small love bites, marking you as his. he couldn’t contain his excitement the moment he heard you panting and gasping.

kenma went to bed that night, wrapping his arms around your waist and pull you into his chest as you both fell asleep to each other’s soft breathing.

#i see sunlight #help me #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu oneshot #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #requests #admin kiri

276 notes · View notes

littleturtle95 · 4 years ago

Text

Alec’s birthday weekend celebration 🥰 Day 2 // free space. TLBOTW review

I havent’t seen a review for the book, only critics/praising and comments on specific moments, so I’m here to do a proper analysis.

This book has many perks and a few lows and I’d like to talk about both. I’ll start with the lows to end on a positive note. Surfing on the internet I’ve read that the plot feels a bit rushed, and I have to agree. I had the impression that the whole book serves the sole purpose of introducing Sammael and showing the last scene with all the princes of hell. Everything that leads to that (the thorn, the two swords then merging into one, the trip to Diyu, Shanghai and the false tracks) were born and died in this book and it felt like they were not well integrated with the TSC universe, they were just there to write something that could realistically lead to the final moment. The two swords Alec and Magnus carry are literal Gods that we’ve never heard before, they use them one time and then they’re gone. You don’t introduce something this powerful that carries so much weight just to shrug it off after one use, one use that doesn’t even involve the sake of our main characters (and why did only Alec have to be tested to prove his worth? both Alec and Magnus got a sword 🤔 that’s something I didn’t understand at all, if you know it feel free to explain in the comments) Another example of this are the two guardians of Diyu, the demons that heal constantly touching the ground of hell, apparently undefeatable. You don’t introduce something like that and kill it off in half a chapter, it’s anticlimactic. And you don’t hype up the father of all demons and then you get him defeated by Isabelle riding a tiger (come on he should have killed them all in that scene) and, even worse, you make him run away like a common demon after things start getting rough. Shinyu leaves and Sammael is “Fuck this, I’m out.” Bitch, you’re a Prince of hell! You’re the Prince of hell! Stop her! Kill them! WTF dude. Yeah, I think this is the main problem of the book. It introduces these huge elements and then it shrugs them off in the most anticlimactic way possible. The other thing I didn’t like was Ragnor’s reaction to Raphael’s dead. Ragnor probably isn’t one to make a fuss, but ffs they were extremely close friends. In TBC Ragnor scolds Magnus because Raphael calls him much more than Magnus does, they exchanged letters, calls, gossip, they used to have meetings, in GOTSM we see them greeting eachother with a high five, and we know how Raphael gets, he’s not so openly friendly even with Magnus and he died for him. They weren’t friends, they were great friends. All we get is a “he passes all stages of grief at once” and “I liked him // He liked you too”. Ohhhhhhhh and a “every war has a life count” like WHAT THE FUCK Seriously? Okay.

Well, what I didn’t like is over so let’s start with the perks. I’ve read many times that the characters are ooc. Jace feeling down because he has a broken foot and he can’t fight (Jace Herondale would never avoid a fight for a broken bone!!!), Simon feeling insecure (the first time he went down to hell things were even worse and he didn’t make such a fuss!!!), Alec calling Magnus pet names (it’s not like him he never did it!!!) and I’ll tell you this: At first I had this impression too, but in the long run I don’t think it’s fair to say those things. The TMI gang we know is younger, less mature, a teenage rebel gang. We read about the grown up them in other spin off books or in TDA, that’s for sure, but not as main characters, just as cameos, so it feels weird to see them as grownups. We thought we were familiar with them but we don’t feel the same familiarity anymore and that’s fine. It would be crazy if they were the same people as before. The Jace we knew was reckless, self destructive and didn’t care much if he lived or died. This Jace that doesn’t feel safe fighting with a broken foot and chooses to guide the others with his strategies is a Jace that knows his limits, a Jace that cares about his life and understands that his well being affects others, a Jace that accepts that the fact he can’t fight for once doesn’t make him less worthy. This Jace is the Jace he became, we are not used to it, we don’t recognise him at first, but what he does is perfectly normal. It would have been less realistic if he acted like he would have acted in City of Bones or even City of Heavenly Fire. This Simon is not the Simon he was the first time they went to Hell. That time he was a vampire, he wasn’t expecting to die. That time he cared deeply about Clary, he fancied Isabelle, but that was kind of all of it. Now he cares about Clary yes, but Isabelle is his family. Jace is his family. Magnus and Alec are his family, too. He is worried because he is mortal and because he has much more to lose. He is worried because he just lost a friend and for the first time he has to come to terms with the fact that being a Shadowhunter really means you go out in the morning and you don’t know if you’ll make it to dinner time. And this doesn’t only affect his bestfriend and the girl he dated while he dated some other chick. This affects him, his fiancée, his parabatai and the rest of his family. It’s not like City of Heavenly Fire, it’s okay for Simon to break down like this, it’s not ooc, it’s a character that changed because the story lead him to change. Alec calls Magnus pet names and is affectionate because he is not the closeted angsty teen he was in TMI. He is a father, a man, someone that knows his loved ones support him and someone who doesn’t have to hide. Come on, in GOTSM he showed Magnus’ and Max’s pictures to everyone he’s met, he stops randomly a werewolf girl getting ice cream, points at Magnus and says “See that man? That’s My Husband overthere.” He is not “He’s not my warlock” Alec, he is “That’s my husband” Alec and we aren’t used to it because we’ve never seen him as a main character in other books after his change, but we know this change happened so we can’t have a Pikachu face if Alec says “My love” or kisses him on the street in front of other people. This is not ooc, this is Alec, the same one, the one who is now more than twenty years old and wants to get married and is raising a child and in a few years is becoming consul. It would be absolutely nonsense for him to keep the distance he kept in TMI. Another complain I’ve seen is “not enough Malec and too many characters”. I don’t think there were too many characters and I don’t feel like we hadn’t enough Malec. Yes, the whole TMI gang was there but I liked that, that’s a plus for me. It’s true, Alec and Magnus’ relationship didn’t evolve in this book, they stayed pretty much the same, we don’t see an actual arc like we did in TRSOM but the romance was still there. There’s no need for relationship drama, and a book about romance doesn’t have to be a push and pull to be interesting. We had a lot of romance, but the angst and the challenges came from other people. It was an established relationship book and I think it worked well with it. The exchanges between the characters were genuine, witty, and I feel like every one of them bonded just right. The relationship between Alec and Jace, Simon and Clary, the other two couples, they were all on point and in character and I liked all their interactions. It was really nice to read them all together and I needed this. Now, the Tian discourse. I feel like Cassandra did a great foreshadowing with this one, something that I immediately noticed. In TRSOM I knew the whole time that Shinyun was going to betray them. It was said multiple times that Alec didn’t trust her and when they’re on the boat in Venice coming back from the party Alec is sleeping and still stops Shinyun that was going to touch Magnus waking up for a moment. Alec is really smart at reading people (except for understanding when they’re in love and that’s hilarious). A line that made me go mhhhh🤔 was when the book says “Alec trusted Tian”. Why say that in that way, totally random mid chapter? Why not to say the others trusted Tian too? Magnus at least? Or why to say anything at all? In that moment they weren’t discussing his worth and he hadn’t even started to act weird. The line made no sense. So I wondered if the line wasn’t saying Alec trusted Tian, the line was saying we should trust Tian, because the other time a trip like this happened Alec didn’t trust Shinyun and she turned out to be a total pain in the ass. Another thing I loved was the action. This is what I want from a TSC book, I want demon hunts, magic artifacts, trips to hell, weapon shopping. Our shadowhunters actually shadow hunting. This book had more of it than TRSOM, so kudos to that. To give this rant a end, I enjoyed this book. I enjoyed this book very much. I disagreed with some choices, I disliked some details, but I’m glad I bought it. It brought me back home, and that’s everything I wanted. This family, the TMI family, is a bit like my family now, and they were so much themselves that I couldn’t help but love it.

P.S. The cameos were rad. The parts with Maryse and Kadir were perfect, I adored Elyaas and when I read there was Raphael I screamed.

#alecsbdayweekwendcelebration #tlbotw spoilers #tlbotw spoiler #the lost book of the white #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #Detective AU #the eldest curses #review #book commentary #brithday event

74 notes · View notes

showbizprofiling · 3 years ago

Text

19 Best Teenage Romance Movies [2022]

19 Best Teenage Movies To Watch

Remember how sensitive we were to befall in affection when we were teenagers or young adults? When we saw our crush, every little feature made our hearts flutter with delight. Teenage romance movies rom-coms are a popular genre of film. Who doesn't get a few teary eyes when they see youthful, hopeful characters figuring out love for the first time? There's never a terrible moment to watch the perfect romantic movie, whether it's Valentine's Day or just the weekend. Some of these are absolute classics that you haven't seen in a long time, while others are brand new films that you will undoubtedly fall in love with after seeing them for the prime moment. Read more about Japanese Romance Movies Here are the best teen romance movies of all time... 19- Things I Hate About You (1999) Directed By: Gil Junger Release Date: March 31, 1999 Duration: 97 minutes Rating: 7.3/10 IMDb , 69% Rotten Tomatoes Why: In my opinion, this teenage romance movies is the most iconic and genre-defining Rom-Com ever filmed. Things I Reject About You, which came released during the height of the Rom-Com/Teen Movie era in the late 1990s and early 2000s, encapsulates everything such films tried (and frequently failed) to achieve. It's humorous, touching, and intelligent, with references that are both highbrow and approachable. In a genre that is often considered meaningless, it juxtaposes the cheesiness and tropiness of best teenage movies Rom Coms with the snobbery and elitism so frequently associated with Shakespeare, mocking and celebrating them both simultaneously.

Plot: Cameron James, a new junior at Padua High School in Seattle, falls head over heels with popular sophomore Bianca Stratford. According to Michael Eckman, Bianca is vacuous and egotistical, and her overprotective father forbids Bianca and her older sister, the shrewish Kat, from dating. Kat, a senior, has been allowed to Sarah Lawrence Institute in New York, but her father, Walter, prefers that she remain in the area. Later by this teen romance movies Walter, a doctor concerned about adolescent pregnancy, will not let his daughters date until they graduate. Bianca wants to date affluent senior Joey Donner. When Cameron asks Bianca out, she informs him of her father's new restriction and proposes that Cameron find someone willing to date Kat as a pretext for enabling her to date Joey. 18: The Fault in Our Stars (2014) Directed By: Josh Boone Release Date: June 2, 2014 Duration: 126 minutes Rating: 7.7/10 IMDb. 81% Rotten Tomatoes Why: It was recommended to me by a friend, and I was a little worried at first that it would be a conventional teenage love story movie with a happy ending, but that was not the case. The film teaches us that life is about more than following our aspirations of greatness to be remembered (fear of oblivion). Somewhat of focusing on pleasing the masses, we should focus on important people in our lives. Also, we frequently criticize our difficulties without considering others in comparable or even worse situations. Their limitations brought them together as close friends, which might be seen as a strength of this best teenage movies.

Plot: Hazel is a youngster with thyroid cancer who has progressed to her lungs in the Indianapolis suburbs. Frannie, her mother, believes she is dejected and supports her to attend a weekly cancer patient support group. Augustus Waters, who wasted a limb to disease but seemed to be relieved, meets Hazel there. They become supporters because of their shared concerns, and they agree to read each other's favorite novels. Later of this romantic teen movies Gus presents Hazel Intract Insurgence. An expansionist illness, a book about the cancer-affected lady called Anna, is recommended by Hazel, on the contrary. The ending has an experience similar to that. 17- Let It Snow (2019) Directed By: Luke Snellin Release Date: November 8, 2019 (United States & Canada) Duration: 92 minutes Rating: 5.8/10 IMDb, 81% Rotten Tomatoes Why: “Let It Snow” is an excellent teen love stories movies for any young adult who wants to spend their free time watching something relatable and funny this winter. The film is incubated toward a midwestern town where a group of high school students dwells amid a massive winter storm on Christmas Eve. Each kid had never genuinely bonded with one another before that day, but owing to the weather, they all learned to embrace one another and find true love within themselves or from their ideal mate. Isabela Merced, Kiernan Shipka, and Mitchell Hope star in this epic teenage romance movies, which also features actress legend Joan Cusack in a cameo role as a strange woman addicted to tin foil

Plot: Julie Reyes meets Stuart Bale, a budding pop artist, on a train on Christmas Eve in Laurel, Illinois. While she decides to return his telephone to him, he mistook her for a fan, which she exerts displeasure despite his apologies. Julie gets off the train due to snowed-over tracks and walks home; Stuart follows her and offers lunch at a local eatery named Waffle Town. During Climax of teen romance movies, she reluctantly agrees and also protects Stuart from a posse of fangirls. She tells Stuart that she has been admitted to Columbia and that her mother is dying of cancer, but that if she waits any longer, she will lose her scholarship. All go sledding and coincide with Debbie, Julie's mother. 16- The Last Song (2010) Directed By: Julie Anne Robinson Release Date: March 31, 2010 Duration: 107 minutes Rating: 6/10 IMDb , 20% Rotten Tomatoes Why: I would suggest watching The Last Song because it is an excellent best teen romance movie. It gets 5 out of 5 stars from me. Both have sparse charming actors in the movie, including Liam Hemsworth and Miley Cyrus, two of my favorite actors. If I View at You is a beautiful song performed in the film by Miley Cyrus. Greg Kinnear's brilliance shines across the entire movie. His fantastic performance transforms the story from ordinary to truly interesting. The scenes in which he interacts with Miley, Liam, and Bobby are the best in the top teenage romantic movies. His presence is heightened by his acting, which is emitted by other artists.

Plot: Veronica "Ronnie" Miller, 17, is still as stubborn as she was three years ago when her parents separated and her father relocated to Georgia. Ronnie is labeled a troubled adolescent since she stole something in her hometown of New York. Teenage Romance Movies Ronnie, who was once a classical piano kid prodigy under her father's guidance, now ignores the instrument and hasn't spoken to her father since he left. Aftet the interval of this teenage love story movie Since she was a child, Ronnie has been interested in Juilliard School, but she denies enrolling because of her father's hatred. When their mother, Kim Miller, assigns the defiant adolescent and her brother, Jonah , to stay the summertime with him in Georgia, Steve has the opportunity to reunite with his alienated daughter 15- To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018) Directed By: Susan Johnson Release Date: August 17, 2018 (United States) Duration: 99 minutes Rating: 7.1/10 IMDb , 96% Rotten Tomatoes Why: I enjoy this romantic teen movies, though I wish it were Canadian because there aren't many Canadian films on Netflix that are as amazing as this one. Also, the entire ensemble is essentially Canadian, but I can't pass judgement. Without a doubt, this is a fantastic film, and the plot twists never fail to captivate me. I sincerely hope there is a "To all the boys I once adored. If there's another one, I'm going to burst and be in heaven. This is a narrative that I can relate to, and there are many lessons I can learn from it. It's a one-of-a-kind, fantastic, loving, relatable, and fascinating teen love stories movies. It teaches me that there is always hope in people and other inspiring and motivating morals. It's fantastic!!!

Plot: Lara Covey, a shy school Student, writes lines to boys she owns a crush on ere putting them apart in her closet. Her most recent relationship is with her childhood buddy Josh, who was dating her elder sister Margot until she moved to college and ended their relationship. Josh has always had a crush on Lara Jean, but she determines it's inappropriate to date him. Later on, of this teen love story movie One night, Lara befalls asleep on the sofa while stretching out with her younger sister, Kitty, who goes into her flat and discovers her letter collection. When Lara Jean wakes up, she notices Josh progressing with his letter, and in a panic, she kisses Peter to throw him off before fleeing. 14- Love, Simon (2018) Directed By: Greg Berlanti Release Date: March 16, 2018 (United States) Duration: 110 minutes Rating: 7.6/10 IMDb, 92% Rotten Tomatoes Why: What a tremendous one of teenage romance movies; this, along with Five Feet Apart and Midnight Sun, is the only one I can watch several times and still appreciate every minute of it. This film made me smile, laugh, cry, and grimace all at the equal time, and I smiled the entire time. Overall, this film will always hold a particular place in my heart because it is just incredible and keeps you guessing as to who Blue is at the end. The finale of this film was grand; it took just the right length of time for everything to happen, and it made you laugh a little. So, if you're watching for a top teenage romantic movies, comedy that will gain you laugh and cry, Love is the answer. Simon

Plot: Simon is a homosexual teenager who lives in the Atlanta suburbs. He has a tight and loving family—parents Emily and Jack, and also some sister Nora—as and also three close buddies: Nick and Leah, whom he has known since childhood, and newcomer Abby. Leah notifies Simon one day about an online confession of a closeted lesbian kid at their high school who goes by the alias "Blue." Simon uses the alias "Jacques" to communicate with Blue via email. In teenage romance movies They share personal information and develop a bond. However, another student, Martin, who is smitten with Abby, discovers their correspondence by accident. Martin blackmails Simon after discovering his secret, threatening to make his emails public unless he agrees to assist Martin to win over Abby. Simon starts looking for "Blue" among his classmates. 13- High School Musical (2006) Directed By: Kenny Ortega Release Date: January 20, 2006 Duration: 1h 38m Rating: 5.5/10 IMDb, 63% Rotten Tomatoes Why: High School Musical influenced nearly every successful Disney Channel film that followed it, including Descendants, Camp Rock, and many others. The primary event in this teen romance movies, which is similar to the ones I've written, is that a boy and a girl who can't together start dating at the end of the film. Many coming stars, such as Zac, Vanessa, and Corbin, owe their fortune to High School Musical. That goes to illustrate how well-known this film is. The characters bring so much joy, excitement, and fun to the movie that it defines it perfectly; the dancers are incredible. If you are wondering for teen movies to watch Then this film is AMAZING. The choreography is AMAZING; you can see how quickly Gabriella and Troy fall in love; and all of the songs are PERFECTLY matched to the circumstance. Wow, I was utterly enthralled by it! It rendered me SILENT.

Plot: High School Musical is a musical television movie directed by Kenny and Peter . It's the earliest teenage romance movies about high school this is the School Musical series. High School Musical is a narrative about two high school juniors from competing stereotyped cliques, with a scenario characterized by the author and many critics as the most advanced modification of Romeo & Juliet. Troy Bolton, a basketball team captain, and Gabriella, a timid substitution student who outshines math and science, are the protagonists. In the end of teenage romance movies They audition together for the major roles in their high school musical, which sparks a schism among the kids. However, they must contend with Sharpay Evans, a high school diva, and her doppelgänger brother Ryan. Sharpay and Ryan try to undermine Troy and Gabriella's friendship and romance to get prominent roles in the school musical. 12- Easy A" (2010) Directed By: Will Gluck Release Date: September 17, 2010 Duration: 92 minutes Rating: 7/10 IMDb, 85% Rotten Tomatoes Why: It isn't your ordinary teen film. Best teen romance movies films revolve around a girl's obsession with a boy, but this one delves further into the frightening aspects of high school. Yes, the girl ought to have a crush on him, but she doesn't pursue him or focus solely on him; instead, she talks about herself and the events in her life while remaining focused on her. You might become famous or notorious as a consequence of rumors. When a teen girl fabricates a story about losing her virginity, the tale quickly spreads. She quickly rises to the position of the various attractive girl in school. However, she begins to understand the repercussions of lying the hard way. The finale of this film was grand and its must teen movies to watch Soon, we learn how one falsehood may lead to many bad things and a lot of good.

Plot: Olive, a miss from Ojai, California, speaks into her webcam to tell the story. Olive lies to her closest friend, Rhiannon Abernathy, about going on a date to avoid camping with Rhiannon's hippy parents. Instead, she spends the weekend at home, hearing to Natasha “Pocketful of Sunshine," which she received as part of a musical testimonial card from her grandma. In Interval of this teenage romance movies Rhiannon pressures Olive until she lies regarding losing her virtue to a university boy the coming Monday. Marianne Bryant overhears olive's falsehood, a sincere Christian who Olive thinks is prudish, and it quickly spreads across the school. Marianne, the school's religious club leader, decides to "rescue" Olive from her alleged promiscuity. Olive tells her buddy Brandon, who other classmates torment because he is gay. 11- Five Feet Apart" (2019) Directed By: Justin Baldoni Release Date: March 15, 2019 Duration: 16 minutes Rating: 7.2/10 IMDb , 52% Rotten Tomatoes Why: OMG... It always makes me weep! Watch it right now if you're searching for a top teenage romantic movies that will make you weep. Personally, I enjoy sad endings since they stick with you for a long time, but I genuinely want them to get together so things may improve, and I was hoping for a kiss without risk, an embrace without fear, and a happy lover. You can't stop sobbing when you think about the characters; for example, how can Stella be married in the future after losing her love? She wasn't even able to tell him the final few phrases. It was the most romantic, dramatic, and best teen romance movies ever made ***Witness it if yourself require to watch a romantic film with a tragic ending**

Plot: Stella has cystic fibrosis and utilizes social factors to Tackle her condition while living everyday life. She meets William, another CF sufferer who is in the hospital for a drug study to treat a bacterial infection in his lungs. To college romance movies limit the potential of cross-infection, CF patients are kept six feet away. Contracting bacterial infections from other CF patients can be severe - even life-threatening. Stella is determined to obey the rules, and she dislikes Will at first because he likes to defy them and take risky chances. Stella observes that Will isn't adhering to his treatment plan and ultimately persuades him to do so. Read the full article

1 note · View note

whenihaveyouromione · 4 years ago

Text

When I Have You - Chapter 19

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Follow this story’s Instagram account whenihaveyou.romione if you want.

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

Chapter 19

A few days later came the new year, which was something — Ron felt — every single person in the wizarding world was looking forward to. The year 1998 had been horrid, but with the strike of the clock signalling the start of a new one, many people felt as if they were inhaling a breath of much needed fresh air.

The loss of loved ones, the tragedy of what had happened, was still raw for many, but with every passing day, things became more normal again, and the new year helped with that.

Since Christmas, Ron had found his relationship with Hermione easier than it had ever been. Looking back, he felt that maybe the argument they had, had turned out to be a good thing. Not because he liked fighting with her — he’d never really liked that — but because it had made them appreciate each other just a little bit more.

Hermione had been trying her best not to obsess over her school work as much, or at least, not when Ron was around. During his second visit to Hogsmeade on Valentine’s Day, Ginny had mentioned that they were up to their necks in work, but Hermione had not complained once. In fact, they had spent a really nice day together.

Ron had also tried to be more appreciative of her work ethic and more tolerant of her just needing to get things done before she could relax. Which wasn’t too hard, considering most of their days were spent apart still.

Auror training had taken on a whole new intensity after the holidays, and Ron, Harry and Neville were being pushed to their utmost limits each day. By the time five o’clock came around, they were absolutely wrecked and would fall asleep before seven on most evenings.

Ron had no regrets, though. Despite the hard, long days, he felt he was becoming a better wizard for it.

In the beginning months, he’d spent almost every weekend at the joke shop, assisting George in getting it up and running again. Every time he showed up, George’s mood seemed to lighten just a little bit more, and in March, when he had finally opened up for business, Ron hadn’t seen him happier than when he was greeting all of his customers.

He now had three other staff manning the front, leaving him with plenty of time to continue producing products. He’d enlisted the help of Lee Jordan, though Lee was only doing it on a basis of friendship. He had his own job with the Daily Prophet. It wasn’t the perfect situation, but it was something, and Ron felt pleased to see a smile on his brother’s face again.

The months ticked by in a whirl, and before they knew it, the end of April had snuck up on them (with no sign of Bill and Fleur’s baby, much to Molly’s annoyance), and they were just days away from the start of May.

Ron had not had much time to think about what this meant until a week prior. Kingsley, who despite being Minister now, popped in on Auror training at least three times a week, had announced that there’d be a memorial service at the school on the second. Anyone — current student or ex student — was invited, and he’d cornered Harry on a Friday afternoon — a week before the service.

“Would you be willing to give a short speech on the day?” Kingsley had asked. “Doesn’t have to be anything spectacular. Just… something. They’ll appreciate hearing from you, I think.”

Harry, at first, had not agreed. No one wanted to be reminded of what had happened, of the high number of deaths, not to mention the immense burden of guilt Harry still felt over everything that had happened. A service was going to be hard enough, let alone being forced to relive it through words. But after some more gentle persuasion from the Minister for Magic, Harry seemed to think he had no choice.

“You’re braver than I am, mate,” Ron had said when they left the Ministry that evening, Harry looking rather glum. “Not sure I could do it.”

“Yeah,” Harry had said, “not sure I can either. What do I even say?”

A week later and Harry was still asking that same question.

“It’s just a lot to think about,” Harry sighed on the evening before the service. He sat with Ron in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, trying to find the words he needed. “I mean, I thought I was alright — training has definitely kept me preoccupied — but now that I actually have to think about it… it’s a lot to take in.”

“Yeah,” Ron said thoughtfully, his mind flashing to Fred, and Remus, and Tonks. “It’s going to be tough. I can’t believe it’s been a year already.”

“It’s been a wave of emotions, that’s for sure,” Harry agreed. “This past year…”

“But it’s had it’s good moments,” Ron added. “I try to think about them, mostly.”

“Yeah, it has.” Harry stared down at the blank parchment in front of him. “I suppose I could start with that. Some good things that have happened despite everything else? I mean, a year without Voldemort — for real — is something people have wanted for a long time, and we’ve finally achieved that.”

“Yeah, but there’s still Death Eaters and other Dark wizards roaming about, isn’t there?” Ron said. “That’s why they still want Aurors.”

“With no one to lead them,” Harry said. He paused. “I could always begin with how great it is to see Hogwarts returned to its full strength. To see people back there, like it once was…” He scribbled a few words on the parchment, gave a loud grunt of frustration, and tossed the quill aside.

“You could always just make it up as you go?” Ron suggested. “I mean, that’s probably what I’d do.”

“Do you want to speak then?” Harry asked, sounding irritated. “If you think you can do it —”

“Merlin, no!” Ron exclaimed. “I’m no good with speaking in front of people. Not in a situation like that. I’ll get all tongue-tied, stumble on my words...”

Harry groaned, smacking his forehead against the table. “Could use some Felix Felicis right now. Just a few drops…”

“Where could you get some from?” Ron asked, thinking that might not be a bad idea. If they both took some, they could probably come up with a ten page speech within the hour.

“Dunno,” Harry said. “Do they sell it at the apothecary in Diagon Alley?”

“I doubt it,” Ron said. “I mean, if they just sold it to anyone… but, you’re not really anyone, are you?”

Harry looked up, smiling. “Ha! I suppose I could go in and ask and they might give me some… but no. I’ll think of something. I’m sure. If Hermione were here…”

“It’d be like the good old days,” Ron said, grinning. “Us leaving something to the last minute, then her being unable to resist the urge to help us… if only she were here…”

“Well, we’ll see her tomorrow,” Harry said, rolling up the parchment. “I think maybe we’ll have dinner and I’ll have another crack at it afterwards. What do you fancy tonight?”

“Mum’s cooking, maybe?” Ron said.

“Have you asked?”

“No, but you know what she’s like,” Ron said, shrugging. “She always overcooks. Come on, or she’ll kick us out.”

“I thought the idea of us living on our own was learning how to fend for ourselves?” Harry said, getting to his feet with Ron.

“Yeah, well, we do most nights,” Ron said.

“Yeah, by buying something,” Harry teased.

“With our own money!”

Harry laughed. “That’s fair. Alright, let’s go.”

But when they got to the Burrow, they found it unusually quiet. It was around the time Ron’s parents usually had dinner, but there was no one in the kitchen, nor, did it seem, anyone was in the house at all.

“Huh,” Ron said, moving to the stairs. “Seems to be no one here. Hello?”

There was a shuffle as one of the bedroom doors opened. A moment later, Arthur appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

“Oh, hello, you two!” he said brightly. “Come for dinner? Well, unfortunately, you’re out of luck.”

“Where’s Mum?” Ron asked, following his dad back into the kitchen.

“At Bill and Fleur’s,” Arthur said.

“Oh, right. Why?”

“Fleur’s having her baby,” Arthur said, grinning. “Bill came by not even an hour ago to tell us. We don’t think it’ll be for a while, though, so I’m not sure when your mother will return.”

“Oh, wow,” Harry said. “I was wondering when that would happen.”

“Yes,” Arthur said, still smiling. “The wait has been rather agonising, but it seems the little one has chosen a very busy time to make her arrival…” He stared thoughtfully at the pots and pans in the sink. “I hear you’re speaking tomorrow, Harry? At the service?”

“Er, yeah,” Harry said, going pink. “I said I would, at least. Finding the right words to say is becoming far more difficult than I thought.”

“I’m sure they’ll come to you, Harry,” Arthur said, patting him on the shoulder. “I couldn’t think of anyone more deserving to speak at such an important and memorable event. A year…”

There was silence. Then Arthur shook his head, and added, “Wouldn’t it be a miracle if this baby made her arrival tomorrow… one year after Fred… well, one year after everything, really?”

“I suppose we’d have something to celebrate then, wouldn’t we?” Ron said, though he wasn’t sure he’d appreciate one of his children being born on such a day. The feelings he’d feel would be extremely conflicting — unsure on whether to feel happy or sad, whether he should be celebrating or grieving. “I hope the baby’s born before midnight, actually,” he added.

Arthur smiled. “Yes, it is rather confusing,” he said. “Anyway, boys, seeing as your purpose for coming hasn’t been successful, is there anything I can send you back with? Ingredients? I could whip something up, perhaps…”

Ron looked to Harry, who seemed lost in thought. His face was screwed up in concentration, as if he couldn’t quite get an idea through his head.

“You alright, mate?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I’ve just had an idea about what I might say,” he said. He looked to Arthur. “Thanks, Mr Weasley. We’ll probably head back, though. Get this speech done…”

Ron, feeling mildly disappointed, nodded. His stomach gave a loud rumble, causing his dad and Harry to laugh.

“On second thoughts,” Harry said, “maybe just a quick bite to eat. Then we’ll get started.”

…

The mood at Hogwarts castle on the second of May was not all that different to what it had been like at the funerals almost a year ago. There was a sullen mood around the grounds, people dressed in their finest robes for the occasion, huddled in small groups and whispering amongst themselves.

The service would take place on the Quidditch pitch at eleven o’clock, and despite being half an hour early, the stadium was already half full. It was mostly filled with faces Ron didn’t even recognise, but scattered throughout was the odd familiar one. Slightly to his left was Luna, Cho Chang and some other Ravenclaws he vaguely recalled from his Hogwarts days.

To his right, and up a few tiers, was Lee Jordan, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia. He gave them a small wave, to which they returned without smiles.

But the faces that cheered Ron the most — despite Hermione’s, whom he was sitting beside — were those of Seamus and Dean. It had been a whole year with hardly even laying eyes on them, and it had never occurred to Ron just how much he missed them.

Both of them had taken a year off doing anything — a much needed break after fighting a war, as Seamus had put it. But now, as the first year drew to an end, both had plans to begin their new careers.

“I’m going to get into Healing, I think,” Seamus said.

“Healing?” Ron asked, unable to hide his surprise. “Didn’t take you much for a Healer, mate.”

At this, Seamus looked rather embarrassed. “Well… I didn’t think so either, but over the past year, I’ve really worked with Lavender and her recovery from the werewolf attack. It’s sparked an interest, seeing what Healers can do to help her…”

“How is she doing?” Hermione asked softly. “I’ve heard she’s —”

“She’s alright,” Seamus said with a shrug. “Refused to come to this. Didn’t want to be seen in public, but she’s alright. Speaks in sign language now. I’ve become quite good at it, actually. Understanding it, I mean.”

“Sign language?” Hermione said. “So it’s true? I wasn’t sure if they were just rumours or not…”

“Yeah, she had her throat ripped apart by Greyback,” Seamus said plainly, and Ron felt rather sick at the imagery. He remembered the last time he’d seen Lavender, Greyback over her, her looking close to death. He’d been surprised to hear she’d survived at all, if he was being honest.

“Pretty bad… can’t speak…” Seamus shrugged again, as if it was no issue. “Doesn’t change anything about her, though. She’s been really good about it all, though I think the thought of facing so many of her old friends… she only lets me and Parvati see her.”

“Why you?” Ron asked, unable to help himself. “Are you and her —”

“Dean,” Hermione said quickly, “What about you?”

Dean jumped, apparently startled to hear his name. “Oh. I, um, am starting Auror training.”

“What?” Ron asked. “You serious?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. The Minister, he’s still kept the requirements relaxed for this year, so I thought why not? I qualify on the grounds of having fought in the war — even though I spent some of it on the run — and I applied and was accepted.”

“That’s great!” Ron said. “You’ll just be a year behind training from me and Harry and Neville. We’ll all be working together in no time.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Will be great seeing you all every day. Any tips for training?”

“Yeah, be prepared not to sleep much,” Ron said. “Oh, and you passed your Apparition test, right?”

Dean nodded.

“Then you’re all good, mate,” Ron said. “Will see you around. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Dean said. “I’ll probably need a lot of advice as it progresses.”

They were interrupted by Kingsley as he announced they’d be beginning the service in a few moments. Once seated and out of earshot of the pair, Ron whispered to Hermione, “Is Seamus —”

“Yes,” Hermione said. She looked at him, appearing slightly irritated. “Does that bother you, does it?”

“No,” Ron said. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. They don’t seem the type… poor bloke.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more. In fact, she looked rather annoyed that he was asking at all. It wasn’t until a moment later did he realise that maybe she thought he was jealous of the fact that Seamus was dating Lavender, but he had no time to rectify that misunderstanding as Kingsley had just asked for silence.

What had been a semi-pleasant atmosphere prior to the service, immediately turned into a very sullen one. Everyone sat in their seats with their heads bowed, listening to the voices of those who had been asked to speak, along with Harry.

There were students, Ministry workers, Kingsley himself, their words amplifying through the quiet stadium, the only other sound being the quiet sobs from the people around.

Knowing what Hermione was like, Ron cast occasional looks towards her to see if she was okay. She did well, keeping it together until Kingsley stepped up onto the podium on the pitch. He only got a few words in before tears started to fall from her eyes.

Ron reached out his hand, palm up, and she gratefully accepted, locking their fingers together. Her head rested against his shoulder and he patted her comfortingly while she silently sobbed against him.

When Kingsley finished, everyone was left in complete silence. Eyes downcast, staring blankly at hands, buried in the shoulders of loved ones — as Hermione was — but that didn’t stop them all from looking up when the final speaker stepped up.

Despite it being a year, despite Harry having made several appearances at Hogwarts since then, there was still an air of awe amongst the people as they stared in fascination at him. Even Hermione lifted her head, wiping her eyes.

Ron gripped her hand tightly, and she squeezed back. He felt nervous for Harry, knowing how difficult it had been to come up with something to say. They had been up until two o’clock finalising it, and Ron just hoped Harry could get through it.

Harry looked around at everyone, appearing terrified. All eyes were on him, expectantly waiting for him to say something. Ron saw him swallow as he brought his wand to his throat. He gave a loud sigh.

“I am here merely to repeat what everyone else has said,” he began. “To remember. On this day, one year ago, many innocent lives were lost. Many families destroyed, my own included.”

Ron knew it was the wrong moment, but he couldn’t help but smile. My own included. Harry considered Ron’s family his family.

“This isn’t what we wrote last night,” Ron whispered to Hermione.

She shook her head, telling him to be quiet.

“But we remember every single one of them for the bravery they displayed, and how valiantly they all fought,” Harry continued. “And no matter how many years pass, how many times we gather here to remember the fallen, their memories will forever live within us. So, I present to you —” he flicked his wand to a large covered object. The cover fell away, and many gasps filled the stadium, Ron included.

Harry had just revealed the memorial that had been announced shortly after the war, but it was better than Ron could have ever imagined.

A large, stone structure reflected not only the names of every single person who had died, but smiling, flashing pictures of them as well. Even from where he sat, Ron could see Fred’s picture. He turned to Hermione, lost for words. She smiled weakly at him.

“It was my idea,” she whispered. “If you tap your wand on each picture, it will reveal information on each of them. Ginny, Luna and I have been doing it all year, sending off owls to families, researching… I wanted it to be a surprise for you… for your family…”

Ron gazed at her, unable to speak. She turned red.

“It was… well, it was what I was working on last Christmas… why I wanted to stay...” She turned to look back at the memorial. “I thought it would be better than a book, more interesting, more engaging for students to learn from. They could just walk up to it, tap on it, and then read and learn…”

“You. Are. Incredible,” Ron said, realising only now that a loud murmur had overcome the silence that had been there a moment ago. Kingsley had started demonstrating how the memorial worked to many awed gasps.

Hermione flushed. “It was just —”

“Amazing,” Ron said. “Amazing. You…”

“Fred’s memory will always be there now. He’ll live on. Here, and at the Ministry. Everyone will know what he did… as well as Harry’s parents, Remus, Tonks, Sirius… anyone who ever fought.”

“I love you,” was all Ron could manage to say, and she smiled, looking rather embarrassed.

“Come on,” Hermione said, tugging his hand. “Kingsley promised us a first look close up, before anyone else.”

Ron followed her past a stunned audience, and onto the pitch. Ginny was already there, tears in her eyes, along with a handful of other people.

Seeing his sister, and knowing what she must have been feeling, he let go of Hermione’s hand and pulled Ginny into a tight hug. She hugged him back, shaking against him.

“You should have said something,” he said, pulling away from her after a moment.

“It was going to be a surprise,” Ginny replied softly, wiping away her tears. “But because Mum and Dad and Bill couldn’t make it, Charlie and Percy had to work, George… well, George couldn’t come…” She turned her head to the monument just as Harry came over to them. “It’s so much better than I imagined it. So much magic went into it, too. All Hermione, of course. She’ll get an Outstanding in her NEWT in Charms.”

“You and Luna and McGonagall and Flitwick all helped equally,” Hermione said.

Ron looked to Harry, who was gazing up at the structure in awe. His eyes were fixed firmly on the pictures of his parents.

“You kept this a secret,” Ron said.

Harry shook his head, his eyes still on his parents. “I had no idea until just before the service,” Harry said. “Kingsley told me…”

“Go on,” Ginny whispered, nudging Harry forward. “You go first.”

"Me?" Harry asked, looking uncertain.

"No one more deserving," Ron said.

Looking bewildered, and a little apprehensive, Harry stepped forward to the monument, where the smiling faces of all those who'd died flashed at them. Drawing his wand, Harry tapped it against his mother's name and immediately everyone else disappeared to reveal a whole section on just Lily.

Harry gasped, stepping back. His eyes scanned the paragraphs written about her life, her involvement in the first war, her death… more pictures appeared, revealing her life at school, her life with James and Harry, in the Order…

"Ginny," Harry said, turning to her. "Thank you."

It was Ginny's turn to blush — a very rare occurrence. But Ron couldn't blame her; Harry was staring at her with such deep intensity that even Ron had to look away.

"It was all Hermione, really…" she mumbled.

"Stop being modest!" Hermione said, sounding frustrated.

Harry tapped his wand again, the monument going back to all the names. He tapped his father and the same thing happened.

More people were beginning to file down onto the pitch in curious whispers, desperate to have a closer look at this new kind of magic.

"How did this idea come to you anyway?" Ron asked Hermione as they watched Harry now flick through Sirius and Tonks and Remus’ information.

"Well, Muggle technology, really," Hermione said. "In computer games, and things like that, you have selection screens… options… it's a bit like that."

"Oh… cool," Ron said.

Once done, Harry stepped aside and turned to Ron and Ginny. “Go on,” he said to them. “Your turn.”

Ron looked to his sister and saw the same apprehension on her face that he felt. What would they see once they tapped on Fred?

“Come on,” Ginny said in a hushed tone. “Come and see it. For our family.”

Ron nodded, swallowing a hard lump in his throat. They stepped forward together, and it was Ginny who drew her wand and tapped Fred’s name on the monument. Like it had done with all the others, information about Fred immediately popped up, flashing pictures of him as a child, as a teen, and then of him as a young adult. There was a lot of information about him, probably helped by Ginny who could share a lot more than most.

They stood reading it together, Harry and Hermione a little way behind them. Then, once finished, Ginny sniffed.

“Oh, I wish Mum and Dad were here to see this.”

“They’ll see it,” Ron said, throwing an arm across her shoulder. “One day. If not this one, the Ministry one, right?”

Ginny nodded, wiping away a few stray tears.

“Come on,” Ron said, turning around and stepping away as other eager people moved in around them, keen to get a closer look. “Let’s go back up to the castle. I think I’ve had enough for today.”

Ron and Ginny, along with Harry and Hermione, began to slowly walk back up. Others were also trickling up, with others walking towards Hogsmeade so as to Apparate. It had only been a little over an hour since the service had started, but it had been emotionally and mentally draining, being forced to relive such an awful event. Ron felt as if he could sleep a whole day away after it.

“Do you think they’ll do it every year?” Hermione asked once they reached the Entrance Hall.

“They should,” Ron said. “Always need to remember that kind of thing, don’t we?”

The others nodded.

“It’ll hopefully get easier as the years go on,” Harry said. “Easier to handle.”

“This day will always be remembered,” Hermione said.

“Ah, Ginny, Ron…”

Everyone turned to find McGonagall hurrying into the hall behind some students. Despite what had just taken place, she had a smile on her face. “I have just had word from your father.”

Ginny gasped. “Did Fleur —?”

“Congratulations,” McGonagall said. “You have a niece. Victoire Weasley, so I am told. Born at eleven-thirteen this morning.”

“Victoire…” Ginny said, saying the name a few times. She smiled. “I like it.”

“Yeah…” Ron said, turning to Hermione who beamed up at him.

“Congratulations,” she said, taking a step closer to him and kissing his cheek. “You’re now Uncle Ron.”

“Er… thanks.” The name sounded weird to Ron, like it didn’t quite fit him. Though, he supposed he’d get used to it. With six other siblings, he supposed this baby — Victoire — wouldn’t be the last.

“Come on,” Ginny said after a moment. “Let’s get something to eat. Maybe Mum and Dad might come and join us soon. Give us some details about baby Victoire.” She wandered off towards the Great Hall, Harry following her.

“You okay?” Hermione asked, looking up at Ron.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He smiled at her, then kissed her. “Just a lot to take, isn’t it? And now with the baby — Victoire — being born today…”

“You’ll have a reason to remember, to grieve, and now to celebrate,” Hermione said softly. She smiled. “Come on, let’s find a place to sit before everyone else comes in. Just in case your parents do show up.”

Ron nodded, and as the crowd entering the castle thickened, they made their way towards the Great Hall, joining Harry and Ginny at the end of one of the long tables and helping themselves to the feast that had been prepared for everyone attending the service.

11 notes · View notes

mhafiction · 4 years ago

Text

Out & About (PT. 1)

Read Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Pairing: Bakugo x reader

Fluff/Friends to Lovers (?), lots and lots of pining.

Synopsis: Reader is very close friends with the Bakusquad, except for the aloof and mysterious Bakugo. He still intrigues them however, and a night out with the group might actually be the the push they need to really get the ball rolling on transitioning their awkward comradery into something a little- more.

Note: this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written, I’m very spooked. There’s a ton of stress out there in the world rn, and I’m trying to find comfort in writing. I hope you enjoy. (Also I’m sorry abt the formatting of this fic I don’t have a laptop to post from :0) -K.

“I’m so glad we could do this, guys!”

You beamed at your friends, excited to set out for the evening. The major exam everyone had been studying diligently for all week was finally over, and the Bakusquad agreed to celebrate by going into the city to enjoy the night life. To be completely honest, in the week leading up to the test, you had been strangely on edge-but not just because of the workload. The dormitory had become oddly quiet, with everyone either off in the library or retreating to hit the books in the silent comfort of their rooms. You missed the hustle and bustle of everyone chatting, eating Sato’s latest confectionary masterpieces, and most of all, the unbridled energy your friends provided. Well, most of them, anyway.

At least now you could finally relax for the weekend and enjoy a good meal with them.

“Right? It feels like forever since we’ve done something like this,” Mina groaned, leaning her head on your shoulder. Her spikey horns jabbed into your chin. The murmur of the station felt familiar, a calming setting for you and your friends.

Kirishima flashed one of his bright smiles. “Aw, it’s only been a couple of weeks!”

“Yeah but you know I’m clingy,” Mina pouted. “I need my favorite peeps or else I get sad and droopy.”

You chuckled, pushing her playfully off your shoulder. “You’re so dramatic, Mina.”

You were thankful for such cheerful and enthusiastic friends. They were all energetic, happy, and extroverted. They really brought you out of your shell at the beginning of the year, and you had gotten to know them all so well over late-night movie marathons or afternoons at the arcade. You surveyed your little group, watching Kaminari begrudgingly charge Sero’s phone, Mina laughing uproariously at his some joke Kiri cracked, and their general bubbly aura. Then, your eyes caught on a familiar pair of piercing red ones.

Scratch that. You had gotten to know most of them pretty well.

What could you say about Bakugo Katsuki? Well, he was impulsive. Talented. Aloof. Angry.

That was about it. How such a grumpy, quiet boy had attracted these walking rays of sunshine was beyond you. Not to say you hate Katsuki or anything. In fact, one might say that you like him.

He had that extreme sort of passion that you’d never seen before, in anyone. He had a keen eye for people’s strengths and weaknesses, both in combat and just in genral. He encouraged you through those traits to go beyond your limits. And though he was cruel and rude to others, the worst he had been to you was a little standoffish. You knew Bakugo was going to be a really great hero someday, and you wanted to get to know him better. Most days, it felt like you were getting to him; becoming something a person would call friends. Then he’d look you in the eye with those dark, stoic eyes and it felt like you knew nothing about him all over again. If eyes were the windows to the soul, Bakugo guarded his with a legion of soldiers and an iron gate.

It’s okay you mused to yourself. Nobody really knows him, to be fair. Except maybe Kiri and Deku. But he’s known Deku for years! And Kiri can get anyone out of their shell. Why would Bakugo want to be good friends with me? He’s not obligated to. I shouldn’t pester him. But I still want to get to know him! Damn.

“Oi, Y/N!”

You snapped out of your thoughts. Bakugo glared at you. Or maybe it was just the way his face naturally was. Maybe it was just you, but those red eyes seemed to soften a bit.

“C’mon, train’s here.”

You nodded following behind your chattering group. The car was nearly empty, and most of your friends darted for the seats. Kaminari laid across three, spreading out as if her were royalty. Chances are, he probably felt like it.

“This is the most luxurious thing I’ve ever experienced,” he sighed. Sero flicked the back of his head, causing Kaminari to shoot up with a yelp. “That’s sad, Denki. Scooch over.”

Kaminari turned to you, rubbing the his head where Sero had flicked him. “Not sitting, Y/N?”

“Nah. I’ve been sitting at a desk all week, I’d like to refrain from it for now. I’ll bet my postures’ shot.”

Denki shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he splayed over Sero’s lap. “But just know you’re missing out.”

“Don’t get too comfortable, Sparky,” Bakugo growled. “It’s almost rush hour. By the next station, this place’ll be packed.”

Bakugo took his place by one of the seats, opting to stand by the pole next to the door. He was close enough to the seats so that it was clear he was part of the Bakusquad , but just far enough to isolate himself from the conversation. You stranded almost directly across from him, allowing yourself to face the group so that you could converse with all of them, rather by being in a row side by side. Your hand gently held the plastic ring above your head. You all had fallen into a comfortable chatter, laughing about how well you did on the exam and the latest slip-up Kaminari had made in training. The train swayed gently, and all was well. Then came the next stop.

You gaped at the crowd that had accumulated at the doors, dreading when they’d open. All tired looking folks dressed in smart suits and clutching their briefcases. You were silently impressed by their sheer numbers. Living in isolated school dorms with the little student social bubble you had had made you forget how vast the city was. It made you miss your morning commute a little bit. But, when the doors finally opened, that feeling completely evaporated.

It was as if a sea of black ties, dress shirts, and loafers had washed over you. You looked down, determined to contain your bewildered expression. The others were not faring so well in that department. Their cartoonish expressions were accented by quiet (and sometimes loud) yelps at the office people trampling their toes. Bakugo remained unfazed. In the chaos, you loosened your grip on the plastic loop to check your phone. 5:00 PM on the dot. We really are kind of dumb. You wondered to yourself why Bakugo hadn’t said anything when you suggested the outing after class. He was usually so outspoken when it came to stuff like that. And it’s not like he hadn’t known. You sighed, putting your phone away. I should have checked the time before we left... if I had just suggested to go a little later, the crowd wouldn’t be this bad. Well what’s done is done.

As you slipped our phone into your pocket, you found yourself being sharply pushed by the crowd. Another swell of people had entered, and your loose grip didn’t serve you well in such a circumstance. Naturally, you fell forward. Right into Bakugo. Your head collided with his and you tried to reel backwards in pain- but Bakugo pulled you closer to him, grabbing your wrists with an impressive grip.

“Owwww...”

“Shut up, you’re making a scene,” He hissed, eyes scanning you with... worry? As if suddenly becoming aware of this, Bakugo quickly returned to his usual cold demeanor.

You groaned. “It’s not as if it’s my fault that I got pushed. Or that you have a such a hard skull.” You suddenly realized how close you two were. Most of your friends were pretty physically affectionate, and you had no discomfort hugging them or cuddling with them. But Bakugo was not a “cuddle” person. Hell, his if his attitude wasn’t enough, his hair said it all. He did not like being touched. But here you were, chest to chest, his hands gripping your wrists, faces just a nose apart.

If it bothered him, he didn’t show it. You turned to look at the spot you were just standing in, craning your neck just to get a peek. It was tough.

“It’s useless,” Bakugo sighed. “There’s three extras in the place you were. Bastards are glued to their phones.”

You shrugged, peering up at him. More and more people were cramming into the car like sardines. “Guess I’ll have to stay here for now. Sorry.”

Bakugo averted his stony gaze, a gentle agony lining his face. “S’okay.” The rest of your group seemed to take no notice of the state the two of you were in. Mina and Kiri has pushed themselves up against the wall in an effort to be as small as possible, Sero’s gangly frame was not doing him favors, and you swore you heard Kaminari sobbing somewhere, though his shock of blonde hair was out of sight. Somehow, aside from the awkwardness of being near Bakugo, you weren’t uncomfortable. He had stopped holding your wrists and instead kept his hands hovering near your waist in order to keep you from falling over or accidentally bumping into another passanger. Not that you needed it our anything. You knew it was because he felt uncomfortable putting his hands anywhere else. Your own arms were similarly placed, and in a weird way, it was as if you two were embracing. Probably as close to a hug from Katsuki that you’d ever get.

With nothing else to look at, you observed his features. You knew already that his eyes were something else altogether, but you released a short intake of breath. Bakugo was handsome. You had thought that when you first saw him, but you truly had taken it for granted. This close, his features were rendered beautifully. His jawline, the way his hair fell- it was sort of ethereal. He kept his eyes trained on everything but you, as if he were trying to forget you were there. But on top of all that...

“Bakugo, you smell like caramel?” His eyes darted back to your own, that vulnerability you had only seen recently shining through. It stayed a little longer than last time.

“Tch. It’s my quirk,” he tried to look away, but you pressed him further.

“Oh? I didn’t know that,” you hummed, trying to keep your composure. Talking this close to Katsuki was beyond your skill level. You patted yourself on the back internally for at least making it this far. “Does it have something to do with your parents’ quirks?” He flinched, and you worried you had gone too far. He never had been one for small talk. But he obliged, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “Kind of. My mom sweats glycerin and my dad can make explosions with his hands. I sweat nitroglycerin, and it lets me make explosions. And nitroglycerin smells like burnt sugar, or-”

“Caramel,” you finished, grinning. That was probably the most he had ever said to you in one sentence. And, to your suprise, he smiled back. But this smile melted your heart. It was sweet and unassuming and he didn’t even seem aware of it. You tried to hide your shock. “Heh. Smart Y/N. You’re such a know-it-all.” He tapped your forehead with his fist, right at the spot you two had collided. You flinched. The injury was still tender. Bakugo’s face changed, but still remained vulnerable and kind. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He knelt to see you eye to eye, and examined your face. He had asked with a genuine concern you had never seen before. Those words seemed like they weren’t meant for his mouth. You felt your face flush. If he was just an inch closer you two would be-

What the fuck?? No way. No fucking way.

There was no way. It wasn’t possible that you could be falling for Bakugo fucking Katsuki. The explosive boy who cackled maniacally whenever he got to punch someone. The sport festival victor who beat up Uraraka, the human equivalent of a cinnamon roll, without an ounce of mercy. The student so notorious for his mean streak that the League of Villains had tried to recruit him.

But that internal part, deep within you knew that he was more than his surface-level outrage. That’s why you liked him so much, right? That’s why you wanted to be his friend. He was a boy who was passionate, ambitious, and honest. Not many could see that. Still, more than this, he displayed a tenderness you didn’t think he was capable of.

A tenderness that was only a nose away from meeting your lips.

“I’m fine, Bakugo.” You attempted to subtly scooch backwards, hoping to increase to distance at least by a smidge. If you stayed in a position like this after a revelation like that, you’d truly implode.

Bakugo was no idiot. He saw you squirm at the proximity, and drew back, his usual aura returning. Internally, he smacked himself. Idiot, idiot, idiot. How could you forget? At best, you two are just friends. Most of the time, you’re just acquaintances. Control yourself, Bakugo.

You two kept this awkward silence until your stop, cheeks ablaze. After what felt like forever, your destination was announced, and Mina gave a shout of joy and relief so loud it seemed like it shook the entire train. You and Bakugo squeezed past the suits, you offering up enough apologies to compensate the both of you for a lifetime of sin. When you reached the door, it felt as if you were finally getting your head above water. You sighed deeply, talking in the rhythms of the station.

“Wow. That was awful,” you breathed. Bakugo grunted. His eyes refused to meet yours, and your heart sank. This was the Bakugo that everyone knew. The grumpy and angry Bakugo and nothing more. Not the sweet boy with the soft eyes who had asked with the gentlest tone if you were ok. But you still liked him. What is wrong with me?!

Mina flopped on the floor like a beached whale. “Ughhhhhhhh.”

“Mina, get up! That’s so gross,” Sero stepped over her, disgusted.

Kiri checked the group, making sure everyone got off. “Where’s Kaminari?”

A distant screech sounded from the train, and Kaminari burst through the doors just as they were about to close, talking his place on the station floor beside Mina. You laughed. This happiness made you forget about Bakugo, if at least for a second. But his eyes were trained on you, watching you toss you head back in joy and look at everything with such a deep love.

You saw, for one second as you turned back towards him, that soft smirk he almost never had. And your heart beat faster.

“Okay everyone! Let’s go!”

#mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #x reader #bnha #sero hanta #kaminari denki #mina ashido #kirishima eijirou #mha x y/n #mha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader #mha #katsuki bakugo x reader #long fic #yikes

90 notes · View notes