#august is such a terrible month but every day i wake up and i check who they're marathoning today

[britneyshakespeare]

marlon brando was so goddamn hot

[myseungsunglove]

The Complication of Connecting | Bc

Characters: Chan x Reader, Seungmin, Han

Warnings: Angst, reader has a panic attack

Word Count: 3k

Summary: The reader wakes to a dark room, no Chan in sight and too many notifications to count on her phone. As the notifications roll in, she is left to continue to deal with the aftermath of the airport, sending her into a full blown spiral and questioning if she did the right thing by getting involved with Chan, whom she barely knows, and coming to LA filled with delusion and hope.

A/N: Part 4. For The Master of Flirting - it’s been a month and a half. I’m not sure if there is even anyone out there waiting for this one. I’m hoping I’ll get part 5 out a lot more quickly! Thanks for anyone that is still around! It seems people are pretty done with this story which I understand. I drug it out too long. There should be one more part, but knowing the high loss of interest, I’m gonna have to be super inspired to wrap this one up. I’m really sorry about dragging this out so that it wasn’t what people hoped for.

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

Feedback Welcome

「© October 21, 2023 by mysweethannie」

You wake to a dark room, your eyes blinking slowly as you try to gather your bearings. For a moment, you forget where you are and your heart begins racing. You bolt straight up, looking around in a panic when the realization finally hits you. You’re in LA. You came here to meet Chan and the boys.

The day comes rushing back to you and you fall back onto your pillows, your hands covering your face as you take a deep breath.

It’s then that you realize that Chan isn’t beside you anymore. In fact, his room appears to be empty from where you’re laying on the bed. You reach over on the nightstand and grab your phone. It immediately buzzes in your hand. Not once, not twice, but five times in a row.

“God damn, chill out,” you mumble as you hold it up to your face to unlock it. As your home screen appears, your eyes widen. You have 50+ unread texts and 7 missed phone calls. Your heart begins to thump rapidly in your chest, worried that something terrible has happened to someone in your family.

Your first instinct is to check your messages, so you open up your texts and have messages from everyone in your family. In addition to them, every friend that you have whether you are close or not, seems to have sent you a message. That’s when it hit you. They all know.

You hadn’t mentioned your trip or at least the specifics of your trip. You had given everyone a vague idea of where you were going, but no actual details as to why you were flying to LA in August.

You open your mom’s text first.

Mom: Y/n, honey, what’s going on?

Mom: I saw this on FB and your brother tells me it’s definitely you. *video attached*

With a deep sigh, you open up the video that your mom sent, expecting to see the video of you singing on instagram or something like it from Instagram. You weren’t expecting what you saw instead.

You're being surrounded by tons of people in the airport, right at the time when you really started to panic. You groan as you watch the focus change to Chan. His stride is quick and purposeful. And angry, you notice. He shoves through the crowd, no regard for his own safety to get to you. Immediately his arms are around you. The video zooms in just as he whispers in your ear and kisses your forehead.

You drop your phone on the bed with a thud.

“No,” you let out a small sob. “Why the hell did I come here?” It’s then that you start crying. Your body wracks with the force of the tears, but no sounds come out of you. The realization that all those messages and missed phone calls are likely related to that video or pictures of the same interaction makes you cry harder. Your phone starts buzzing beside you and it’s your sister calling.

“Oh fuck this,” you grit out, jumping up out of the bed. You ignore the call and step into Chan’s room, but he is nowhere to be found. Your phone buzzes in your hand again and it makes you about lose your mind. You storm back into your room, your breaths getting more shallow with each one you try to take. You wrench open the door to your room and discover that the hall is empty. You are starting to feel like you can’t breathe, gasping for air. Desperately, you stumble across the hall and start beating on the first door you come to. You aren’t sure if it’s Seungmin’s or Han’s, but at this point you don’t care.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you hear from behind the door as you continue to beat the door. “For fuck’s sake, where’s the fire?” Seungmin growls as he pulls open the door.

Immediately you burst into tears again, falling toward him. Thankfully he is paying attention and he catches you swiftly, his arms engulfing you. Your phone rings again and this is your absolute breaking point.

“Fuck the fuck off!” you scream and throw your phone down the hall, the sob that accompanies your outburst a heartbreaking sound.

“Shit, y/n,” Seungmin says quietly as he pulls you into his room. “Han! Han!” he yells into the next room and quickly, Han is there too.

“Oh no,” he mumbles, as Seungmin hands you off to Han and runs back into the hall to retrieve your phone. Despite the current situation, he knows you will want it eventually even if your current relationship with the device is tumultuous at best.

Han walks you over to Seungmin’s bed and sits with you as you continue to cry. He leans back against the pillows and takes you with him, his hand rubbing gently on your back.

“Y/N, breathe with me,” he says, taking your hand and placing it on his chest as he takes a deep breath in. You feel the rise and fall of his broad chest, but you still can’t control your breathing. “With me,” he reminds you, holding your hand over his heart as he takes another deep breath. You inhale deep this time, your breath shaky and unsure as you focus on the movement of Han’s chest underneath your small hand. He lets out the breath and you do as well. He takes several more breaths with you before you are able to feel like you have control over your own body again.

“Where’s Chan?” Han asks to no one in particular.

“I don’t know,” you murmur against Han’s chest. “I woke up and he,” tears were falling still so you took another deep and shaky breath. “And he was gone. Then my phone started buzzing and buzzing. The video. The text. The phone calls,” your voice was starting to get higher pitched and was speeding up with every word. “And he wasn’t there,” you sobbed.

“Shhh,” Han whispered against your head. “It’s okay, you found us,” he reminds you,’ squeezing you tightly against his chest.

Seungmin walks back into the room then. You hadn’t realized that he had stepped into Han’s room.

“I can’t get a hold of him,” Seungmin says as he sits next to where you and Han are cuddled up on the bed. “I’m sure he is trying to figure whatever this is out,” he offers reassuringly.

“Oh,” you whisper. You feel dumb as the ineffective word falls out of your mouth, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind

“Can you tell us what’s going on now?” Han asks.

You nod against his chest, and push away from him, sitting up and looking at him with a small, embarrassed smile.

“I can’t believe I just sobbed all over Han Jisung,” you mumble wiping away your tears as you take another deep breath. “How did I get here?” you chuckle, your head falling in your hands.

“Hey, none of that. I’m just Han. Don’t full government name me,” he teases, his shoulder bumping against yours. “We’re friends,” he says. He notices you start to say something in protest and immediately interrupts you. “And the length of time that we have been friends is irrelevant. Now spill the tea,” he says, and you notice that little British accent that you were always hearing in English interviews and chuckle a little.

You take a deep breath.

“When I woke up and Chan wasn’t anywhere to be found, I grabbed my phone out of habit,” you shrugged looking from Han to Seungmin. Seungmin smiles softly, encouraging you to continue as he watches you closely. “I had so many missed phone calls and text, that initially I thought something had happened to a family member. That set me into a minor panic all on its own,” you explain.

“Hmmm,” Seungmin nods in understanding.

“I imagine that would,” Han agrees.

“So, I opened the text from my Mom first and there was a video from the airport. Me being surrounded. Chan coming to the rescue…” you take a deep breath again and continue. “Him whispering in my ear and kissing my forehead,” you say shaking your head.

“Oh,” Han whispers.

“Yeah,” you affirm, looking at him. “Oh,” you agree. “I realized then that all those messages and phone calls were related to that. No one knew why I was coming to LA. I just told them I had a special opportunity that I couldn’t miss out on which wasn’t a lie,” you sigh. “My phone continued to buzz and I couldn’t find Chan and I just began to panic. The minute my sister called, I lost it,” you added, shaking your head. “That’s how I ended up in the hall where you witnessed the rest,” you groaned, looking at Seungmin.

“Y/n, we are so so sorry,” Seungmin laments. “We didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“Don’t, Seungmin. This isn’t your fault. I knew there was a possibility for something like this, I just thought I’d get a minute of peace first,” you chuckled. “That was naive of me.”

Just then you heard the door across the hall slam shut, practically shaking the room. All three of you looked at the door curiously. Then the cursing came. A distinct Australian voice was spewing curse after curse before the banging on the door began.

“Seungmin!” Chan yelled as his fist beat the door. “Seungmin! She’s gone!” he bellowed, and Seungmin jumped up to get the door, but you grabbed his arm, stopping him and went to the door yourself. “I already fucking ran her off,” he half sobbed, and you could hear his head fall hard against the door right before you opened it.

“You didn’t already fucking run her off, you idiot,” you said as you opened the door. “She just had a panic attack and you weren’t there. Had to go somewhere,” you half chuckle as your eyes meet his.

His shoulders slump at the realization that your still there and once it fully hits him, he has you wrapped up in his arms, squeezing you tightly to his chest.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles against your head and you feel a tear drop onto your head. “I was sure I’d be back in time. I got those videos not ten minutes after you fell asleep. I was trying to take care of them. Of you,” he sighed in defeat, squeezing you hard.

“Hey,” you say, pulling away to look up at him. “Han and Seungmin were there. I’m okay. Just really, really overwhelmed,” you tell him with a small smile. His hands move to the sides of your face and before you can think, he is pulling your lips to his. This kiss tells its own story, his lips moving slowly against yours as if he is apologizing for everything that has happened so far that day. You break apart, both of you breathing heavy, foreheads meeting as you both breathe each other in.

“I really should have thought this all out. I should have been prepared. I should have prepared you,” he rambles. “I should have…” you cut him off with another kiss. His arms move down to your sides as he pulls you closer to him.

Somewhere in the room, a throat clears.

“You’d think they don’t have their own damn room right across the hall,” Han jokes. Seungmin rolls his eyes at him, but you can hear a small chuckle tumble out of him before he can stop it.

“Hey!” you chastise, reluctantly pulling away from Chan. “I’m the one in crisis. I get to do whatever I want right now,” you tease, kissing Chan quickly before pulling away from him and going back to the bed where Han and Seungmin both sat. You sit between the two of them, crossing your legs and looking over at Chan. “Now that I’m not a freaking hot mess, what do I do?” you ask.

Chan steps into the room and sits in a chair that is next to a desk, looking around.

“I’d probably start with at least calling your mom,” Seungmin suggests, reaching out to hand you your phone.

“Ugh, anything but that!” you object. “Han, how about you call my mom. You’re really good with words,” you add, taking the phone from Seungmin’s hand and passing it over to Han. You shake it at him when he just gapes at you, his mouth open in disbelief.

“Uhhh,” he murmurs, starting to grab your phone, a look of slight panic crossing his small round features.

“It was a joke, Hannie,” you giggle. “My mom would freak out if she heard anyone’s voice but mine from my phone right now,” you add.

“I can make the call with you,” Chan offers. You look at him and your eyes meet. There is genuine concern there. “C’mon,” he says, standing and taking your hand.

You nod once, interlocking your fingers with his and letting him pull you to your feet. You both head for the door.

“Guys, we’re all getting together after y/n takes care of making some of these contacts,” Chan adds as the two of you step into the hallway. “We’ll get dinner and get a plan together,” he adds looking down the hall. It’s then that you realize the rest of the members have their heads out their doors or are standing in the hall. They had seemingly been waiting for Chan to come out.

You wave meekly at the other boys, none of whom you have met before this moment.You realize the state that your in and fall against Chan’s shoulder in embarrassment.

“Hey! Hey!” Felix says, his voice low and comforting. “Don’t hide, you’re gonna be around us a lot,” he smiles, walking up to you and pulling you away from Chan into a big bear hug. “I’m Felix.”

“I know,” you say, a laugh escaping you as he squeezes you tight.

“Oh yea, right,” he laughs, releasing you.

“I’m Changbin,” Changbin smiles at you. His dimples appear immediately on his full cheeks and it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Y/N,” you giggle with a little bow.

“And that’s Hyunjin, IN, and Lee Know,” Changbin grins, glancing at the three that are walking your way. They are all even more striking in person than you could have imagined. Your breath is briefly stolen from you before you regain your composure.

“Hello,” they say in unison, all of them bowing low.

“Don’t do that,” you beg. “I’m just Y/N,” you insist.

Lee Know blushes and smiles at you, a small nervous chuckle leaving him.

“We’ll get dinner soon and everyone can get to know Y/n,” Chan speaks up.

“Right,” you agree. “Gotta call the mother,” you joke, shaking your phone at everyone. “It’s not like I’m 26 or anything and can’t handle life.”

Everyone chuckles along with you, a sympathetic understanding etched on their faces.

“It’s nice meeting everyone. Hopefully it can be less awkward at dinner,” you tease as Chan reaches for the door of his room. “I know you didn’t realize you’d be meeting the president of the “Big Tiddy Committee” today in a random hotel hallway,” you laugh.

You hear Seungmin and Han burst into laughter and you turn to smile big and bright at them offering them a mischievous wink.

“Those two idiots right there are the newest members. You’ll have to ask them about how to join,” you tease as Chan then bursts into laughter beside you and tugs you into his room. “Ope, the vice President needs me,” you add as the door closes.

You hear a burst of laughter behind the closed door and a chorus of Korean ring through the hallway in the wake of the chaos you created.

“If my life is in chaos, I might as well have a little fun,” you shrug, as Chan pulls you toward the bed. He sits on the end of it and pulls you between his knees, his large hands on your waist, squeezing lightly.

You toss the phone on his bed. Its your turn to reach up and cup his face. He smiles up at you, his eyes disappearing into those tiny slits you love and you lean in for yet another kiss. The spark everytime your lips meet is electric. This kiss ignites something deep inside you and you move your hands around to the back of Chan’s head as he embraces you, pulling you against his body, your lips moving together, his tongue licking at your lip and hesitantly dipping into your mouth.

You place your knees on both sides of his hips, settling on his lap and can’t help but move against him as the kiss intensifies. He moans against your lips, his fingers digging into your back as he clings to you.

After some time, he pulls away from you, breathing heavily and mumbles, “You’ve gotta call,” he breathes, his forehead on yours once more. He takes a deep breath. “Your mom,” he adds, kissing you quickly and looking into your eyes.

“Right. That,” you groan, moving off of his lap and falling onto the bed beside him. You pick up the phone that you had discarded and select your mom from your contacts.

“Here goes nothing,” you smile at him as it rings in your here.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says beside you, taking your hand in his just as your mom picks up the phone.

< Pt. 3: The Art of Meeting | Pt. 5: The Beauty of Bliss >

MoF Tags: @hoeinthehouse @drhsthl @chrizzlaptop @dna-black-and-blue @lynlyndoll @hufflepuffanddurinsdaughter @amararosesblog @flirtyskzbutterfly @spearb-99 @jascurka21 @colorguardlover14 @bangchansbiggestfeet08 @vxllxnsworld @greyyeti @silentreadersthings @ddazed-lhs @backintomykpopphaseagain

[marauders-venting]

I Love You

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

words: 2304

note: based on a textpost by @moonyspadfoot45

a/n: yes i know disposable cameras didn’t exist until the mid 80s but i wrote that part before i googled it and i don’t want to change it so we’re gonna go with it

Remus sighed in the direction of the stack of boxes that looked like it was about to topple over.

“Sirius?” he called, walking into the living room.

“Yeah?” Sirius replied, peering at Remus around the stack of boxes from the couch where he was sitting.

“I swear to god if you and James used any of the boxes marked ‘fragile’ for your fortress…” He left the sentence hanging as he reached up to lower the box on the top. “How did you even manage to stack the boxes that high? Did you have to stand on a chair or something to reach up here?”

“Rude,” Sirius said, coming around to Remus’ side of the fort. “I’m not that short.”

“James had to do it, didn’t he?” Remus teased, turning around.

“Moony, stop making fun of me,” Sirius pouted. “Come on, we’re going into the fort.” The ‘fort’ was made of boxes that contained all of Sirius and Remus’ possessions stacked to form walls with a sheet stretched over the top. And it was right in the middle of the living room of Remus and Sirius’ new apartment.

Sirius grabbed Remus by the hand and pulled him into the fort. The sheet, which was their makeshift ceiling, was hanging so low that even Sirius had to sit on the floor. They sat down and Remus looked around. Then he spotted a box labelled ‘kitchen ware’ and turned to Sirius.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he said. “I was looking for that box for like an hour! I nearly called the movers to ask them to double-check that they hadn’t missed any boxes!”

“I didn’t know you were looking for it!” Sirius said defensively.

“I literally asked you if you’d seen the box!” Remus said, laughing and shaking his head.

“Uhhh,” Sirius started, scrambling for an excuse, “I’m sorry, Remus, but you should know by now that I answer most questions wrong.”

“That is the worst excuse I’ve ever heard,” Remus said.

“Then you obviously haven’t heard any of the excuses I gave McGonagall for breaking the rules,” Sirius said.

“What are you talking about, I was there 90 percent of the time,” Remus said.

“Yeah but when you were there you were giving the excuses.”

“Yeah, my excuses were good, they got us out of detention,” Remus said.

“Feels weird knowing I’ll never have another detention,” Sirius said, lying down on the carpet he and James had brought into the fort earlier. “I keep thinking we’re gonna go back at the end of the summer.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Remus said, lying down next to him. “It feels like just yesterday you were asking me to move it with you and now we’re here. In our living room. In a fucking fort.” Sirius laughed and kissed Remus lightly.

Remus remembered the day Sirius had asked him to move in. He’d never forget it. It was their first anniversary and they were up on the astronomy tower, the same place they’d gotten together the year before. Remus remembered how hard he was trying to put aside his anxiety about the upcoming exams just for that day. Sirius made it easier. Sirius made everything easier.

“Can I give you my present now?” Sirius asked. Remus had felt his cheeks heating, despite the fact that he was quite cold up on the tower, in the cool breeze stinging his face.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he muttered.

“I know,” Sirius said. “But I wanted to. Besides, you were the one who planned out this whole day. And you're the one who’s taking me out on the Hogsmeade weekend after exams.” Remus supposed it was true. He had planned out the day down to the last detail. He felt very cliche doing it but it was worth it to see the look on Sirius’ face. And to feel Sirius’ lips on his.

“Oh alright,” Remus gave in. He was curious now. Sirius handed him a small grey box. Remus cocked his head at him but Sirius’ expression was unreadable. He opened the box and inside it was a silver key and a disposable Muggle camera. Remus picked up the key and turned it over, examining it.

“Pads, what is this?” he asked finally. He was afraid he had ruined something. That this was something sentimental that he was supposed to understand.

“It’s a key,” Sirius said. Remus rolled his eyes.

“I’d figured that much out myself, funnily enough,” he said. “What is the key to?”

“Look at the camera.” Remus did. He picked it up and, glancing at Sirius to make sure this is what he was meant to do, looked through the photos in the camera.

“An apartment?” Remus said, still confused.

“Our apartment,” Sirius said. He was looking at Remus, his grey eyes alight.

“What?” Remus said, gaping at him.

“Only if you want it to be,” he added hurriedly. “I just thought… Everybody's been talking about living arrangements after school and I–I thought maybe you might like to live together. I mean, I haven’t finalised anything yet so we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Or we could still pick a different place. The owner’s of this one won’t vacate it until August so we’d have to figure something out for the first month and a bit after we graduate but I’m sure the Potters won’t mind if we stay there for a little while. And Lily and James might want to be alone in the beginning but I doubt they’d kick us out if we showed up but… do you hate it?” He had barely breathed in between words until now. He looked up at Remus nervously, biting his nail.

“Are you kidding me? I love it,” Remus said. “Sirius, this is… this is incredible. You’re incredible. I—” Remus hesitated. He knew what he wanted to say. But he couldn’t form the words. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“So you��re saying you’ll do it?” Sirius asked. “You’ll move in with me?”

“Yeah,” Remus said. “Yes, of course I will.” Sirius beamed at him. But then something occurred to Remus. “Sirius, you haven’t paid anything yet, have you? If you have I’ll pay you back, I—”

“Shh, don’t worry about that now,” Sirius said. “We’ll figure out all the technical details later.” Remus bit his lip.

“Okay,” he said. He could put it out of his mind for that night.

“Happy anniversary, Moony,” he said. And then he kissed Remus, there on top of the astronomy tower and Remus felt just as much excitement then as he had when Sirius had kissed him there for the first time, exactly one year previously.

And here they were now. In their apartment. They ended up deciding on the one Sirius had originally chosen, the one that he’d shown Remus photos of that evening. The owners had ended up vacating a bit earlier than they had said because there was still a week until August. Sirius had stayed at the Potter’s for the first few weeks and Remus had gone back home. But as they were spending every waking moment at Lily and James’ house anyway, they suggested that Remus and Sirius just stay with them. They had invited Peter to stay with them too, just while Sirius and Remus were there but he’d turned down the offer (“After seven years of sleeping in the same room with three other blokes, I think I’ll be good on my own for a while,” he had said). He still came over every day and stayed until around midnight but he always preferred to sleep at home. He said he’d never get used to it if he stayed at Lily and James’.

James, Peter and Lily helped them move in too. They’d been with them to Ikea a few days previously to buy furniture. And they had come over today to help start unpacking things. Well, Lily and Peter helped unpack. James was more interested in building a fort out of the boxes with Sirius.

Remus remembered worrying that he might spend less time with his friends after school since they’d no longer be living in the same big castle but so far the amount of time he spent with Lily, James and Peter had not decreased even a little.

But Lily and James had gone home now and Peter had gone back to his studio flat; Remus and Sirius were alone, together in their new apartment.

“Are you hungry?” Sirius asked, snapping Remus back into reality. “I could make you dinner.”

“You’re going to make dinner?” Remus snorted. “I’m sorry but have you ever made food in your entire life?”

“I have actually,” Sirius said. “Mrs Potter taught me how to make food when I lived there. I’m not as good at it as James is but I can make something edible without burning down the kitchen. Although I nearly did that the first time I tried to make food.”

“Well, that’s very convincing,” Remus said sarcastically. Sirius elbowed him in the ribs. “I’m kidding!” he said. “I’ll be on standby with the fire extinguisher.”

“What’s that?” Sirius asked.

“Kind of in the name, babe,” Remus said and then he crawled quickly out of the fort before Sirius figured it out and elbowed him again.

But Remus was pleasantly surprised because not only did Sirius manage to not light the whole house on fire, but he even produced some pretty good food.

“You know, this is quite nice,” Remus said, taking another bite. “Mrs Potter must be a really good teacher if she managed to get you to this level of cooking.”

“Why can’t you just have a little bit more faith in my talents, Moony?” Sirius said. “But yeah, she’s a great teacher. James, on the other hand, is a terrible teacher. It’s not that he can’t cook because he can. He just can’t teach other people to cook. But don’t tell him I said that.” Remus snorts.

“As if you haven’t already told him that to his face.”

“You know me too well,” Sirius sighs.

After dinner, Sirius goes to shower and Remus continues unpacking boxes. The more boxes he unpacks, the more he realises how much crap they’re missing. But he’s not too worried about it. They’ll go to the store tomorrow and find whatever it is that they’re missing. It’s nothing essential. The only essential thing to Remus in this house is Sirius. As long as Sirius is here, Remus would be fine.

Remus opens another box with a utility knife. He looks inside and his jaw drops.

“Rem?” Sirius asks, coming into the room, his hair still wet from the shower. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remus says. “Look at this.” He takes out the contents of the box and sets them on the table. It’s photos. Loads of photos of them from school.

“Wow,” Sirius says, looking through the photos. “Oh my god.” He holds one of the photos out to Remus laughing. Remus looks at the photo and starts laughing too. It’s him sitting next to a dog, a stag and a rat. His friends in their animagus forms and him in the middle, smiling awkwardly as Lily takes a photo.

They spent a little longer looking through the photos, laughing at how much they had changed since the first day they’d met each other in first year. They all looked so little. And now… well, now they’re grown up. Remus didn’t feel like it though.

He returned the photos to the box, deciding he’d find a place for them tomorrow. He was reaching another box when Sirius took his hand.

“Come to bed, darling,” he said. “It’s nearly midnight and you’re still unpacking boxes.”

“Yeah, okay,” Remus said. He smiled and laced his fingers with Sirius’.

He showered and put on a massive sweater (despite it being midsummer) and clambered into their new bed, where Sirius was already waiting for him. Sirius pulled him in and kissed his forehead before resting his head against Remus’ chest.

As they cuddle in their brand new bed, in their brand new apartment, Remus is overcome by the urge to tell Sirius, to just say it. To say what he wanted to say months ago on their anniversary but had been too afraid. He doesn’t even care if Sirius says it back. He just wants to say the words. He wants Sirius to know. Sirius deserves to know.

He lifts Sirius’ chin with his hand so their eyes meet as he brushes his thumb against Sirius’ cheek.

“I love you,” he says.

“I– I–” Sirius stutters.

“And you don’t have to say it back or anything,” Remus assures him. “I just wanted you to know.” Tears spill from Sirius’ eyes.

“You’re crying?” Remus said, sounding concerned. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“No, nothing wrong, I just—” Sirius hesitates, sniffing. “That’s the first time anyone’s told me that,” he admits.

“That’s a shame,” Remus says, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’ll always remind you how much I love you. I love you so much, Sirius.” He pulls Sirius into a tight hug. “You deserve so much love.” Sirius kisses him softly. It’s a quiet, gentle kiss, tears still flowing freely down Sirius’ face.

“I love you too,” Sirius whispers.

“You don’t have to say it just because I did,” Remus says.

“I’m not,” Sirius said. “I really do love you.” Remus smiles as he feels the blush blooming on his cheeks. And suddenly he can’t remember what was holding him back in the first place. He feels like an idiot for waiting so long to say this. He loves Sirius. He loves Sirius with all of his heart and he’s going to make sure Sirius knows it.

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter fourteen rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

“He’s still asleep?” You asked May in a hushed tone. It was almost 1 pm on a hot August afternoon and you hadn’t heard a word from Peter all day.

“I just checked and he’s completely knocked out. I’m pretty sure he was up all night playing Wings with Ned.” May chuckled.

“Wings? Do you mean Halo?” You asked with a lighthearted laugh. May nodded in agreement.

“That’s the one. You’re welcome to wake him up if you like. I’m sure he’d much rather have his girlfriend wake him up than his aunt.” May said as she nodded towards his door.

“Aw, don’t say that. He loves you.” You argued playfully.

“He does. But I know my nephew. He has never loved anything the way he loves you. Even more than he loves being Spider-Man.” May replied. Your eyes widened at her casual mention of the masked hero.

“You know about Spider-Man?” You asked incredulously.

“Of course.” May playfully scoffed. “I walked in on him fully in the suit and he still proceeded to tell me it wasn’t his. He’s brilliant but he’s also dumb as it gets.”

You laughed at Peters excuse. It reminded you of the time you told Ned you weren’t Venom directly after he watched you turn into Venom. Maybe you really were meant to be.

“Is all part of his charm.” You giggled. “I’ll go wake him up.”

You tiptoed into Peters room and slowly shut the door behind you. You saw Peter fast asleep and smiled at the sight. His mouth was slightly open and you heard quiet breaths escaping his partially parted lips. His hair was defying gravity as usual and you noticed him snuggling into something. You crept closer and saw that he was cuddling into a shirt of yours that had gone missing a few weeks back. The very shirt he claimed he had never even seen. You couldn’t even be mad. You thought it was sweet that he wanted something of yours to hold at night. You carefully climbed on top of him and bent down to whisper in his ear.

“Peter. It’s time to wake up.” You whispered. Peter stirred a little but didn’t wake up.

“Peter.” You said a little louder. “Guess what today is?”

Peters eyes twitched and he snuggled deeper into your shirt. You sighed in defeat. You needed a new tactic.

“Peter.” You tried again in a sing song voice. He groaned a little in his sleep. You ran your fingers through his hair and a dreamy smile appeared on his face. You sighed, knowing the smile wouldn’t last. You gave it one last attempt.

“Peter!” You yelled into his ear. His eyes shot open and he jumped into a half fighting stance. You fell over onto the bed in a fit of laughter.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” You cooed as you stroked his face. Peter groaned again and flopped back onto the bed.

“Why’d you wake me? It’s too early.” Peters whine was muffled by his pillow.

“Early? It’s 1 pm. I don’t want you sleeping away your special day.” You replied. Peters head perked up a little.

“My special day?” He asked.

“Yes. Happy 20th birthday my love.” You said happily and climbed back on top of Peter. You pressed 20 quick kisses all around his face. He laughed as you counted them off.

“16.” You kissed his cheek.

“17.” Other cheek.

“18.” A kiss on the forehead.

“19.” A kiss to the nose.

“And 20.” You leaned in and finally kissed his lips.

“Wait. I have morning breath.” Peter argued.

“I don’t care.” You smiled and kissed him again.

It was August 10th. You and Peter had been together for around three months now. You and Peter were at a very strong place in your relationship. You had been inseparable all summer. Days were spent with Ned and MJ doing regular teenage things, but nights were spent with just the two of you. You’d talk on the rooftop until the sun began to rise and sometimes, swing around the city in Peters arms just for fun.

Today was supposed to be the day Andy and Dani got married. You had called Dani after your battle with Carnage and explained everything. She wasn’t too upset, surprisingly. She was mostly glad that she found out how terrible Andy was before she married him. She flew down to New York and stayed with you for a week to catch up. You enjoyed your week with her more than the years you spent with Andy.

Peter reaching over to grab something off his dresser pulled you from your thoughts. He rolled over to face you, hiding something in his hands.

“Okay, don’t be mad, but I have something for you.” He said as he held up his hands.

“A present?” You raised your eyebrow. “But it’s your birthday.”

“I know. But it’s just something small.” He promised. “I think you’ll like it.”

Peter unfurled his hands to reveal a small velvet box. You looked at him curiously until he opened it, revealing a gold ring with cloudy white pebble as the stone.

“I found this little shop in the city that can turn rocks into jewelry.” He said softly. “I had them make you this ring.”

You looked at him in appreciation before pulling him into a kiss. He slipped the ring onto your finger once you pulled away.

“It’s from the rooftop. Our rooftop. I picked up a small handful of rocks the first time we talked up there. I carried this one with my in my pocket every since to remind me of how lucky I am to know you. Now it’s yours.”

“Peter.” You whispered as you stared at the ring. You didn’t know what to say. It was something so simple yet so thoughtful.

“It’s a promise ring.” He continued in a shy voice. “It’s my promise to you that I love you forever. And when we’re older, I’ll replace it with a real ring. An, um, an engagement ring.”

You looked up from the ring to see him blushing profusely, reminding you of the day you met.

“I love it Peter.” You answered honestly. “And I love you.”

“How much?” He grinned. “How much do you love me?”

You looked at him and smiled, knowing what he was alluding to.

“More than you’ll ever wrap your head around.”

THE END 

[moldisgoodforyou]

rome (v)

wordcount: 8.2k oops

warnings: smut !! like a lot i'm a tiny bit embarrassed. also angst at the end !!

______

“You didn’t.”

Rafe gave her an apologetic smile as their train pulled out from the station in Florence, outside slowly blurring as the train picked up speed. “I think I might have.”

She let him be completely in charge of the transportation, hotels, everything - which turned out to be a terrible mistake, seeing as he’d never traveled on his own before (and had never planned anything in his life). She’d had to amend most of their plans already , as he just purchased without thinking of any logistics. Instead of buying a train ticket directly to Rome, he’d accidentally bought two tickets. One leg of the ride went an hour and a half to Pisa, then the other leg sent them on a four hour train ride along the western coast of Italy to Rome.

The two had nearly missed their fourth alarm, sleeping through the other three, and had to scramble out of bed with Sophie nearly in tears in order to throw their things into their suitcases and make it to the train on time. Rafe bought tickets in advance, like usual, but Sophie had forgotten to check over them once they printed from the kiosk and they hopped on their train just in time. After shoving their luggage onto the rack and returning to Sophie half-asleep in their seats, he realized his mistake when he re-read their tickets.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes blearily, frowning as she inspected the ticket and confirmed his confession. “How did you even manage that? There’s a direct transport to Rome.”

“I don’t know, the page was all in Italian! I don’t know Italian!” He defended, looking more and more worried by the second.

“Okay, baby, it’s okay. You’re fine.” She sighed. “Not the end of the world.”

“You’re stressed.”

“I’m not stressed.”

“You’re definitely stressed.”

“I’m a little stressed.” She admitted, handing the tickets back to him. “We also got back to the hostel at 3am and nearly missed the train and you got kissed by a random boy last night even though I didn’t listen to you when you said he was flirting and -”

“Hey.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And I’m fine, and we’re both on the train, it’ll just take us a little longer to get there. We’re fine. Okay?”

“We’re fine.” She repeated like she was trying to convince herself, nodding. “We’re fine.”

“Exactly. Now I think you need to sleep, angel, at least until we get to Pisa. I can find us some breakfast.”

She lifted her head to squint at him. “Sorry, say that again?”

“You need to sleep?”

“No. The city we’re going to.”

“...Pisa?” He repeated, pronouncing it like “pie-za.”

Sophie shook her head. “Pisa, baby. Try again.”

He scoffed, pronouncing it his way again. “It’s definitely Pisa, Soph.”

“...Okay. You go around telling people you went to Pie-za, that’s fine with me.” She shook her head, settling back into his side. “Can you scratch my back?”

(It only took her a few minutes to fall asleep but she was pretty sure she heard him using Google Translate to see how Pisa was actually supposed to be pronounced when he thought she was sleeping.)

When they finally made it to Pisa, Rafe nudged Sophie awake and pretended not to notice when she swiped a tiny spot of drool away from her cheek. They were both starving and made the thirty minute walk to the Leaning Tower of Pisa just for kicks in their layover - she made him stop to buy her some overpriced crepes from a market stand along the way.

They were both extra tired when they returned to the train, tucking into each other’s side and using Sophie’s jean jacket as a makeshift blanket. He played with her hair idly, watching her as she was about to fall asleep again. “Soph?”

She shifted, trying to stay awake. “Yeah?”

“Are you tired of traveling?” He asked tentatively. “Like, are you ready to go home?”

“I think those are two different things.” She lifted her head a little to check over his expression. “Why?”

“I don’t know, just.” He started, shrugging, but only continued when she nodded to prompt him further. “You seem so much more confident here, you seem happier to me. If living here is something you’d want to do, I’d want you to consider that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, nervous for her reply. “Even if that means we would be apart for a little bit again.”

Sophie sat up completely so she could look him in the eye. “I love traveling, I really do. But I’ve also been homesick for three months - I miss my family, much more than I thought I would, I missed you like hell, and I miss having a routine.” She bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t frown. “I haven’t been home to the Outer Banks since Christmas, and it’s August. That’s ages.”

He nodded and leaned forward, kissing her forehead. “I can go home with you, if you’d like? For the week before we have to go back to start school?”

“You’d do that? Even if you have to see your dad?”

“Yeah, of course I would.” He smiled, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“I’m glad you think I seem confident, because I have no idea what I’m doing half the time.” She smiled. “I feel much better with you around, I don’t think you realize how many days I cried when I first made it to Spain.”

He frowned, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “I don’t like hearing that. I hate it when you cry.”

“Sweet boy.” She grinned, lifting her head to nudge her lips against his chin. “I’m okay. You need sleep, you’re going soft on me.”

“Remind me how long my mistake is?”

“Four hours. We both need sleep and I can’t sleep if you’re moving around. We get to Rome around two.” She yawned, tucking her knees to her chest to keep herself warm. “Then you need a shower, you still smell a little bit like the club from last night.”

“Rude.” He leaned back anyways so she could be more comfortable. “G’night, angel.”

“Morning.” She corrected, seconds away from sleep.

He laughed, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Good morning.”

The train ride was fairly uneventful - every half hour or so, one of them would wake the other up for entertainment or to point out the window at a pretty view. At one point Rafe suggested they join the mile-high club - but for trains, aptly named by him as the “rail tail club” - she just glared at him and crossed her arms to go back to sleep.

They took advantage of the WiFi to cancel their hostel stay and actually move to a hotel instead - after what happened in Florence, Sophie decided they didn’t need the experience of making new friends. Rafe had to slyly hide the full bill from her when she asked how much it was. (He felt a little guilty seeing the relief on her face when he said it was cheaper than expected, but he swore he’d never put her through financial stress as long as he lived.)

When they finally arrived and walked the ten blocks to the hotel - with suitcases in tow, dodging other tourists and locals in the street - Rafe stripped off his clothes the second they walked into their hotel room. Sophie paused, watching him with amusement as the door clicked shut behind them. “What on earth are you doing?”

“I feel so gross.” He confessed, peeling off his socks and shoving off his shorts. “Why didn’t you make me shower last night?”

“You were drunk, baby, I had to haul you to the metro station.” She followed him into the bathroom and he turned in the shower, shutting the door so steam would fill the room. He raised his eyebrows. “You coming in or are you just gonna watch?”

“I’m too tired for sex.” She told him, hopping up to sit on the counter. He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. “Okay. So let’s just shower.”

“Just shower? You gonna stick to that?” She let him tease the hem of her shirt up, slowly.

“Just shower. Please? I’ll wash your hair.” He encouraged, pressing a kiss to her forehead before turning to get in the shower.

“Hm.”

“I’ll wash your tits.”

He grinned when she gasped and reached out to swat his butt, making him jump before he stepped into the shower. “Or not! Whatever you’d like!”

She rolled her eyes and stripped down, joining him a few moments later. “You have a dirty mouth. I can’t let you keep getting away with that.”

He smirked, stepping close. “What are you gonna do about it? Punish me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She challenged, backing him against the shower wall. He tried his best to hold back a laugh at how cute she looked, trying to seem all intimidating. “Yeah. You know I would.”

She leaned up for a kiss and he leaned down, eyes closing - until she suddenly pinched his nipple, twisting it. “Ow! Sophie!”

She cracked up laughing, getting under the shower spray and handed him the shampoo. “Wash my hair. I’m hungry, let’s go find food.”

“So demanding.” He complained, accepting the shampoo. “Turn around.”

“I said we’re not having sex -”

“I said turn around, not bend over.” He swapped places with her in the shower and started shampooing her hair carefully, adding the perfect amount of pressure and making sure he didn’t tangle her hair. She moaned quietly and he paused abruptly. “Sophie. Do not.”

“Rafe, keep going.” She whined, pressing her head back into his hand.

He grumbled, continuing his shampooing. “Quit making noises.”

“I can’t help it, it feels so good - hey!” She squeaked, whipping around to glare at him when he tugged on her hair at her scalp. “What the fuck!”

“You’re saying everything you say during sex!”

“Are you just constantly horny?” She scowled at him and shoved at his chest.

“Yes, you aren’t?” He argued, stepping aside so she could rinse her hair. She got under the shower spray to rinse and kept glaring at him until she squeezed some shampoo into her palm. “No. Come here.”

He ducked down a little so she could reach, humming contentedly as she ran her fingers through his strands. “Baby.”

“What.” She kept up her faux-anger, but wasn’t really too annoyed with him - he knew it, too.

“I love you.”

She softened, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as she continued to massage his head. “Love you too. Even if you are horny as hell.”

He laughed and accepted her little nudge under the shower so he could rinse her hair. “The showerhead is detachable…”

She looked him over, debating, but her stomach rumbled in protest. “I’m starving. Can’t you get yourself off? You did that just fine without me for three months, I’m sure.”

He laughed, leaning down to kiss her shortly. “I did, but it is criminal that we never had FaceTime sex.”

She raised her eyebrows. “My apartment walls were way too thin, and you definitely would have been caught at Colin’s house.” She reached down to run the tip of her finger under the length of his cock, grinning when it twitched. “Enjoy. I’m gonna get ready.”

“Sophie, baby -” He protested, reaching for her, but she just blew him a kiss and got out of the shower. She’d learned that quickies didn’t exist with Rafe, and if she started something in the shower it would be taken out to the bed, then probably go back to the shower afterward.

(She did her makeup in the bathroom just so she could hear his little groans - ones that he definitely played up for her.)

After going to dinner, and getting lost on their way back, they were both thoroughly exhausted for all their walking and their travels. When they crawled into bed after their showers, Sophie snuggled into his side, resting her head on his chest. “Hey, Rafe.”

“Mm?” He hummed, half-asleep already.

“Do you have any special requests for your birthday tomorrow?”

He smirked, sleepy. “Yeah, you wanna wake me up with sex?”

“Like, actually?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’d do that?”

She shrugged. “If you want.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t complain. But just spending the day with you is more than enough.”

“Alright. What time were you born?”

“Uh…” He furrowed his brow. “7:12 am, I think. My mom used to wake me up for my birthday at that time on the dot, every year.”

“Aw. That’s sweet.” She typed something into her phone, then nodded. “Oh, you’re a Virgo rising. That makes so much sense.”

He frowned, sitting up a little. “I’m not a virgin, we had sex two days ago.”

Sophie giggled, not bothering to explain - she’d attempted to before when she was first getting into astrology, and he had just told her he didn’t believe in witches. “Has it been that long?”

“If that’s long to you, baby, I can’t even imagine how difficult three months was.” He quipped, closing his eyes and lying back down.

She rolled her eyes. “Good night. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He murmured, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her close.

The next morning, Sophie woke up and managed to slip out from Rafe’s side, ignoring his grumble and half-hearted, still-asleep attempt to keep her at his side. She went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth then changed into some new lingerie, feeling a little ridiculous, but hoped it’d be worth it. When she returned to the bed, she crawled on top of him, rocking her hips gently against his hard on. “Baby.” She whispered, trailing a finger down his chest.

He stirred only for a moment but pressed his hips up against hers. “Fuck, Sophie, more,” he said and she nearly laughed at his dream mumblings. She ducked down under the covers and kissed along his length, rubbing him gently over his boxers. He woke up just as she was pulling his boxers down, thoroughly confused. “Soph?”

“Good morning. Happy birthday.” She told him with a grin before taking him into her mouth, pushing on his thighs a little when he jerked in surprise.

“Am I still dreaming?” He muttered, pushing back the covers so he could see her head. She licked directly up the underside of his cock, tracing a vein with her tongue. “Nope. Not dreaming.”

“Holy shit.” He breathed out, watching her with wide eyes. “I don’t think I’m gonna last.”

“That’s okay, we can fuck again.” She grinned up at him before taking as much of him as she could into her mouth again, moaning around him. His eyes rolled back in his head and he gathered up her hair carefully. “Fuckin - fuck, angel, faster, please.”

She obeyed, moving her mouth and hand just a little faster. It wasn’t long until he was spilling into her and she swallowed, then kissed back up his body. “Hey.”

“Hey -” He breathed out, jaw hanging open, then stopped. “Wait, what are you wearing?” He took her in with a grin and grabbed his glasses off the nightstand table to get a better view of her, wanting to see her in her full glory. “Is that new?”

She laughed, tugging at her bra strap self-consciously. “Yeah. Thought I could save it as a special birthday surprise for you.”

“Holy fuck, Sophie.” He scrambled for his phone. “I need, like, a picture to remember this or something -”

She was turning red from all his compliments and covered her hand with her face as she whined. “Rafeeee.”

He tugged one hand away, grinning at her. “Please? Just one? Or more than one?”

“Um...okay. Fine. Where do you want me?”

His jaw dropped and he gaped at her, incredulous. “You’re serious? You’ll let me? For real, that’s actually okay with you?”

She bit her lip, smiling. “Yes. As long as you keep it in a locked folder on your phone.”

“Oh my god. I’m in heaven. Is this my birthday present, the lingerie? Or the pictures?” He leaned up to kiss her, needy, and groaned as she rocked against his hips to lean forward.

She pushed him back a little, rolling her eyes. “No, you have a real present.” She stuck her chest out, adjusting the bra so her breasts were nearly spilling out of it, and fluffed up her hair a little. “Snap away, Cameron.”

He paused, waiting for another nod from her, then started taking photos, his eyes blown wide. He reached up and ran his thumb over her lips - she bit down on it gently, smirking at his expression. Rafe groaned just as he looked at her adoringly. “You’re incredible. Beautiful. I need to tell you that more.”

“Shut up.” She blushed more, letting her hair fall in front of her face.

He drank the sight of her in, lingerie and all, then set his phone aside. Abruptly, he grabbed at her thighs to pull her up and she squeaked, caught off guard and fell forward onto him. “Rafe!”

“Come here. Sit on my face.” He commanded, dropping his head back to the pillow.

She pushed herself up to straddle his hips again, wearing an incredulous expression. “You’re insane. I’m not doing that.”

He laughed darkly and curled a possessive hand around her thigh, digging his fingers into her leg just enough. “Yes, you are. Come up here. I need you.”

She could feel her cheeks getting hot from his demanding tone, the way he was taking control. “Rafe, it’s your birthday. Let me just take care of you.”

“You did take care of me, now it’s my turn.” He moved his hand up her leg to rub across her clothed clit, grinning when she gasped and twitched at his touch. “Like you said, it’s my birthday, and what I want you to do is sit on my face. C’mon, baby. I know you’re just dripping for it, absolutely filthy -”

For a moment she nearly considered climbing up on his face right then and there just to get him to shut up, but got too shy and felt her face burning with embarrassment. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“No? You don’t like it?” He continued rubbing slow circles across her clit and grinned when she shifted onto his thigh and moaned. “Hm, that’s what I thought.”

“Rafe.” She protested weakly, her resolve thinning quickly as he flexed his thigh and pushed against her.

“You know what I want my present to be?” He asked.

She started grinding slow against his thigh, trying her best to keep her gaze locked on him. “Hm?”

“I want to make you come. Three times. I know I can, too.”

“I already got you a present.” She mumbled weakly, rocking against him a little faster as her brain began to cloud over. When he shifted a little and flexed his thigh again, she gasped, leaning forward a tiny bit.

He reached up and pushed one cup of her bra down, gripping her breast roughly and pinching her nipple. She bit her lip hard to keep quiet and he shook his head right away. “I want to hear you.”

“Someone’s going to hear.” She protested, whining quietly.

“Let them. I want everyone to know how good I can make you feel.” He shot back.

“We’re gonna get kicked out for a noise complaint.” She argued, rocking her hips a little faster.

“Good. I’ll know I’m doing my job right.”

“Trust me, that’s not an issue,” she muttered darkly, circling her hips on his leg. When she came, whining, she practically collapsed onto him, so sensitive she had to move so his leg wasn’t between hers anymore.

He didn’t care and flipped them over quickly, shoving the sheets down the bed and dragged her panties down and off her legs. “So fucking pretty. Look at you, all wet, you’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?”

“You are on something today, where’s all this coming from?” She shook her head, even though his dirty words had her turned on more than she ever thought they would.

He grinned and kissed up her inner thigh, spreading her legs apart. “You love it.”

“Hm. Do I?”

Rafe moved up to kiss her lips, then down her jaw, then to nip at her throat, although she certainly didn’t need the foreplay. He pulled teasingly on the ends of her hair, a little harder than usual, and stopped abruptly to look up at her when she moaned. “Oh, I forgot, you like it a little rougher, yeah?” He asked in a taunting tone.

She rolled her eyes as she blushed, thoroughly embarrassed by his teasing. “I mean. I wouldn’t mind.”

He paused, thinking. “Do you have anything specific you want to try?”

Sophie didn’t hesitate in responding, knowing she’d chicken out if she didn’t just say it. “Did you pack a tie?”

“...a tie? What for?” He shuffled out of bed, confused, but rifled through his suitcase until he found a nice silk tie, all wrinkled from being forgotten in a spare pocket. He tossed it at her but she held it out. “I can’t tie it myself.”

“Where’s it going?”

She bit her lip as she raised both hands above her head, her wrists pressed together. “Here? But not to the bed, I think that’d be too much.”

He gaped at her for the third time that morning. “You’re sure? You want that?”

“Yeah, is that okay?”

“Yes! Yes. Just unexpected, okay. Okay. We need, like, a safe word or something right, this is some fifty shades shit - is this gonna hurt you? Or fuck, do you want it to hurt?“

She held back a laugh, finding his rambling endearing. “It’s a silk J.Crew tie, baby, not rope. It’s okay. I’ll tell you to stop if I need it.”

“Right. Right. Have you done this before? You seem a little too chill about it.” He put the tie around her wrists hesitantly in a loose knot, making sure she was comfortable before he settled himself back between her legs.

Sophie gave him a little smile, blushing. “No, I just. Thought I might like it and I trust you.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight - you won’t sit on my face but you’ll let me tie you up?”

“It’s different.” She tried closing her legs but he pushed them back open and nipped at her thigh. “Hey. Behave.”

“Yeah? What if I don’t?” She challenged him with a grin, and he just shook his head and teased a finger across her entrance. “Trouble.”

“Rafe.”

“Yeah?” He moved impossibly slow, rubbing two gentle fingers over her clit - she squirmed under him, letting out a little whine. “No teasing.”

“Hm, I think I’m going to tease all I want, with you all tied up. Can’t take control like that.”

She groaned, blinking at him. “I’m already wet, I don’t need to be edged.”

He grinned up at her. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“S’hardly dirty.” She countered, gasping when he caught her off guard with a wide lick up her entrance. “Fuck - I -” She started helplessly as she went to grab his hair, but just had to squirm instead with her hands above her head.

“Do we have plans today?” He questioned, breathing hot air on her clit as he slipped two fingers inside her and curled them toward herself.

“Not til later - oh, there, please -”

Rafe repeated his motions and flicked his tongue across her clit. “What are we doing?”

“Can we not discuss this now?” She argued breathlessly.

“Why, can’t concentrate?” He glanced up, amused. When she went to answer, he just sucked on her clit, making her gasp. “Answer the question, angel.”

“Rafe - fuckin’ - please -” She bit out, unable to think straight. “I’m so close, baby, more -”

He swore there was nothing he loved more than when she’d call him pet names, and the whine certainly added to it. Instead of teasing more, he curled his fingers again and flicked his tongue across her clit, working her through her second orgasm. She’d abandoned all pretense of keeping quiet and gasped out for him, arching her back as she came. When he withdrew his fingers and crawled back up the bed to press them against her lips, she took them easily.

“You are way too fucking good at that.” She breathed out, trying to grab for him again, but cursed when she remembered she was still tied up.

He reached up and untied her with a grin. “You okay? Did it feel alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Though I’m not sure I like not being able to touch you.” She smiled as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of her wrists.

“Dunno, I think I like when you’re not ripping my hair out when you come.” He grinned, nudging his nose against hers.

She rolled her eyes. “You love that.” She took on a mocking tone, making her voice deeper to imitate him. “Pull my hair, baby - oh, fuck, yes -”

“Hey! I don’t sound like that.” He laughed. “Your sex noises are more embarrassing, anyways, all whiny.”

“They are not embarrassing -”

“You want to record them and see?” He raised his eyebrows, challenging her.

She blushed, shaking her head. “No. Absolutely not. You missed your chance for that the second you came here to see me.”

“Shame. Kind of unfair though, because you definitely got a voice memo or two.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you sent one to me every time you jacked off, that was much more than just one or two. Took my invitation and ran with it.”

He laughed, then reached around and unclipped her bra, pulling it off and tossing it aside, then rested his head next to hers on the pillow. “I love you. So fucking much.”

“Happy birthday.” She smiled. “Love you too, sweet boy.”

He grinned, kissing her sweetly, then stroked his thumb over her cheekbone. “We’re not done yet. I promised you three times.”

She laughed. “Alright, just give me a second to catch my breath.”

Rafe raised his eyebrows with a smirk. “I’m that good, huh?”

She shoved at his shoulder, shaking her head. “You are too damn cocky for your own good. Oh! Here, let me get your present.” She hopped out of bed and pulled out a gift bag from her suitcase, all smushed down and wrinkled, and handed it to him. “Sorry it’s a mess, I had to pack it before you came.”

He sat up with an eager grin, pulling the covers over his lap. “S’okay, I’m sure it’s great.”

She pulled her underwear back on and pulled on a big shirt of his before crawling back into bed, watching him with a smile.

He unwrapped the gift and pulled out a leather jacket, whistling. “Wow! This is awesome, Sophie.”

She beamed, practically bouncing with excitement. “It’s custom fit to your measurements - I had Colin measure that jacket you always wear to be sure - and it’s ethically made. Well, as ethical as you can get with leather, but it’s handmade by this family in Barcelona, so there’s practically no carbon footprint. It’s neutral, at least. No sweatshops or anything.”

He wasn’t quite sure what all of that meant, but grinned at her enthusiasm. “It’s perfect, baby, thank you.”

“Happy birthday.”

Rafe held it up, looking at all the details, then he caught a glimpse of the tag and frowned. It was $300 - he wasn’t sure he wanted to know how many hours of work that was for her paycheck. “Sophie.”

“Just pretend you didn’t see!” She tucked it back in the jacket quickly, wincing.

“I swear this is a double standard...” He started, but decided not to finish his argument - the last thing he wanted to do with her on his birthday was fight about money.

“Don’t care. Let me treat you.” She beamed as he ran his fingers over the leather.

“You never let me treat you.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows and held up her hand with the ring as if to make her point, raising her eyebrows. “Never?”

“That was different, that’s a gift.” He pointed out.

“Yeah, so’s this. C’mon, put it on.”

“What? I’m all sweaty.”

“Just for a little bit.” She pleaded, pushing it toward him. “Please? I want a picture.”

“Oh, so you get nudes too? I thought that was a special birthday present.” He raised his eyebrows, challenging her, and she giggled. “The jacket is the present. Rafe, please?”

He made a show out of huffing and rolling his eyes but held out his hand, sitting up. She grinned and handed it to him, grabbing her phone when he shrugged it on. “Okay, lay back?”

“You’re directing me? Okay.” He laid back in bed, completely naked except for the jacket, his hand tucked behind his head. She beamed and climbed up on the bed to stand over him, just wearing his big t-shirt and her underwear, and arranged the sheets so they were just covering his dick, his chest on full display and his hip and thigh peeking out suggestively.

“Okay. Don’t smile.” She held her phone up high to get the right angle, laughing when he smirked up at her. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Yeah? Do I get a picture of you in it too?”

“Nope.” She hopped off the bed and held her hand out expectantly for him to take the jacket off. He sat up and grabbed her hand, kissing the back of it. “Sophie. Shirt off.”

“No.”

He just raised his eyebrows and she gave in with a sigh, tugging it over her head. He nodded, satisfied, and helped her shrug the jacket on. “You’re easy when you’re cock drunk.”

She gasped, shoving at his shoulder. “I do not get cock drunk -”

“You absolutely do!” He laughed, swiping his phone from the bedside table. “C’mon. Pose for me.”

She pretended to blow him a kiss, striking a bunch of poses. He grinned, holding up his phone and taking way too many shots. “There we go, angel. I’m gonna send these in to Victoria’s Secret for you.”

She rolled her eyes and flipped him off for the camera, holding the jacket closed. “Shut up.”

“No. C’mere, pick out which ones I can keep.” He reached over and tugged on her arm and she shrugged off the jacket, carefully setting it on the chair before climbing back into bed, purposely dragging herself across him. He groaned. “Baby.”

“Yes.”

“Can’t do that. I’m almost hard again.”

“Okay. You can fuck me again.” She smirked up at him and he took a deep breath, then handed his phone over. “Choose your photos.”

She flicked through them and deleted a few, then grinned at the one of her flipping him off. Sophie cropped it in a little so it was much less suggestive, her chest mainly covered, and cut it off where the jacket ended, then set it as his lock screen. “There. Now you’ll always remember this whenever you look at your phone.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, there was no chance of me forgetting.” He smirked, glancing at the screen then gave her a sincere smile. “C’mon. We need to shower.”

“No.” She threw her leg over his hips, catching him with her ankle tucked around his thigh and leaned in to kiss him, hard. He groaned against her lips, pulling her closer on top of him. “Sophie.”

“Rafe.” She mumbled, nipping at his lower lip. He nudged his nose against her cheek. “Baby.”

“Just kissing, c’mon.” She argued, even though she rolled her hips against him, felt him stiffening against her, and knew exactly what she was doing.

“It’s never just kissing with you.”

“It was the very first time.” She grinned.

“When you kissed me drunk at the party and then rejected me?” He raised his eyebrows, clutching at his chest in mock pain. “Broke my heart, Flint.”

“And look, now you have me nearly naked in bed in Rome. I think you’re doing just fine, Cameron.” She quipped and he laughed. “Damn straight.” He gripped her hips when she moved to get off him, holding her in place. “Where are you going?”

“Want you on top.” She protested, grinding down against him. His breath caught in his throat and he flipped her over with ease, hooking his fingers in her underwear and dragged them off her legs, pushing one knee to her chest as he did. He reached to grab a condom off of the nightstand and rolled it down himself with a little groan, watching Sophie bite her lip. “Tell me how I got so lucky?”

“You’re such a romantic.” She teased, reaching out for him again. He leaned down and carefully slid into her, squeezing his eyes shut when she moaned at the feeling. “Can’t help it with you.”

“Cheesy.” She accused, gasping when he thrust a little harder.

“Mean.” He quipped, leaning down to kiss her, hard, and she responded eagerly. As much as he tried to hold back, they only lasted a few minutes before they were both coming again, Sophie biting down on his shoulder to keep quiet.

Rafe flicked her chest with a grin as he pulled out of her, shaking his head. “Did you just bite me?”

“We have two more days, we really can’t get kicked out for a noise complaint.” She giggled, smiling up at him with flushed cheeks.

___

The rest of the day was heaven for Rafe - Sophie was touchier than ever, even in public, and absolutely doted on him like it was her job. They wandered around a few tourist sites and by two pm, they’d already split three gelatos upon Rafe’s insistence they had to try ‘just one more flavor.’ He FaceTimed with Colin and James earlier in the day and was grinning ear to ear afterward, claiming multiple times that it was the best birthday he’d ever had.

Around six, after Sophie reluctantly agreed to their fourth gelato of the day, she waited outside in the sun as he went and got their cup to split. When Rafe returned from the shop with gelato for both of them, she covered her phone with her hand. “Thank you. I have someone on the phone for you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Julia and Allie already texted me earlier today.”

She just smiled and handed him her phone - her dad waved at him with a grin on FaceTime. “Rafe, buddy, happy birthday!”

Rafe’s grin was so instantaneous it nearly hurt. “Jeff! Hi, thank you! That’s so nice of you to call!”

“Of course, had to check in on you. How’s your day, been good so far?”

Rafe blushed and shot her a panicked look as Sophie shot him a glare off-camera. “Yes sir, it’s been great. Sophie and I have been exploring the city and stuff, getting to know the history.”

“That’s great, I’m glad. Have any big plans tonight?”

Sophie scooted over so she was on screen. “We do, but he doesn’t know about them yet.”

“Ahh, a surprise. What else have you done, the Colosseum? Vatican City? Your mom would enjoy that.” Jeff grinned as Sophie rolled her eyes. “Dad, I’m not taking him to the Catholic Church on his birthday -”

“I know, Sophie, I was kidding.” He shook his head and Rafe held back a smile. “You have two weeks before school starts, right Soph?”

“Yeah, just need to do a few TA things and get my studio set up. Why?”

“I was thinking, we’d love to have you home for a weekend if you have time before classes start. Rafe, you’re welcome to come over as well.”

Rafe brightened as Sophie nudged her knee against his, smiling. “I’d like that. If Sophie’s not too busy, I mean.”

“No, I think I can figure that out. I miss you guys.” She smiled. “So Rafe gets to stay in my room, right?”

Her dad froze up for a second. “I was thinking the guest room or his own room at his house, actually -”

Rafe’s eyes went wide and he pinched Sophie’s thigh, shaking his head quickly. “I can stay at my house! That’s perfectly fine. She’s kidding. We’re in separate dorms on this trip, so it shouldn’t be any different -”

“Oh my god, no, you’ll stay in the guest room.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Okay, dad, we have to go.”

“Right.” Her dad eyed them skeptically, then smiled. “Well, happy birthday, Rafe, hope it’s a good one. I’m excited to see you both soon.”

“I appreciate it, sir, that means a lot. Thank you.” Rafe beamed, but he could feel his neck getting hot, hoping her dad wouldn’t pick up on his terrible lying.

“Alright. Be safe, you two.” Her dad hung up and Sophie’s cheeks burned a little, feeling he was implying a double meaning. She swatted his chest. “Can’t you control your blush for two seconds?”

“No ma’am.” He replied with a grin. “That was so nice of your dad. Did you ask him to do that?”

“No, he just texted me and asked when he could call. He likes you. Even if you’re a shitty liar.” She gave him a pointed look and he just laughed.

“He’s cool.” Rafe nodded, satisfied. “Man, that was so nice. I can’t believe he thought of me.”

She paused, eating a spoonful of her gelato. “Has your dad said anything today?”

“No, he won’t unless Rose reminded him. But that’s unlikely.” He shrugged. “Sarah and Wheezie texted me, that was nice.”

“Your dad’s not going to call on your birthday?” She frowned.

Rafe shook his head. “No. I’m usually up at school by now anyways, so he forgets. He remembered senior year of high school, but that was because I had a party at my house and asked him if we could string up lights by the pool.”

“Oh. I don’t remember that party.”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, uh, I didn’t invite you and your friends on purpose. Was trying to keep it lowkey, y’know.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Wait, was that the one that Cassidy Anderson got so drunk at, she had to get her stomach pumped? And Kyle Green broke his ankle -”

“When he tripped into the pool, yeah, that was the one. Word got around that I was having a party, I’m kinda surprised you didn’t end up there anyways.”

She laughed. “Carter went and texted me not to come, he thought the cops were going to show.”

He wrinkled his nose at the memory. “They did. It was bad, Shoupe told my dad and everything, I was in trouble for a month after that.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows, skeptical. “I’m sure you being in trouble meant nothing.”

“No, he canceled my golf lessons. That was actually a big deal, he knew I liked them.” He frowned a little.

She bit her lip as she suddenly remembered - her dad came home and told her mom that the big tips from the Camerons were going away, that they’d have to cancel their flights to go visit her in Sophie's first semester of college because they needed the refund as a safety net. It was a big deal that they had even promised to come at all, usually her dad had to work weekends to fit in more lessons and he’d asked off just to come see her.

When Ward canceled the lessons, a few of Rafe’s buddies followed suit and canceled as well - she and Carter went around to every course in the area that week to put up flyers to get their dad more customers. She felt a momentary pang of guilt putting two and two together and shook her head, trying to redirect the conversation. “Right. Um, so you want to head back to the hotel, get ready for dinner? I made a reservation for us at 7.”

“Yeah. You alright?”

She gave him a slightly forced smile. “I’m alright. Let’s go, birthday boy.”

He narrowed his eyes a little, but didn’t push it.

Dinner that night was on the rooftop of a hotel overlooking Rome, and they both dressed nicer than they had the whole trip, with her in a cream colored silk slip dress to complement her tan and him in a pair of nice slacks and a sleek short-sleeved button down. When their waiter came out to greet them with a drink menu, he glanced at Sophie’s attire and her ring and raised his eyebrows. “You are the honeymooners, yes?”

She blushed, shaking her head. “No, sir, the birthday. Under Sophie Flint.”

“Oh! The white dress, I was confused.” Their waiter gave them an apologetic smile. “Here is your drink menu, I will be back.” He returned later with two glasses of complimentary champagne, as well as the bottle of wine they ordered, and apologized again.

When he left, Rafe lifted his glass with a cheeky grin. “To my blushing bride.”

She scowled and stopped just short of kicking him under the table. “Shut the fuck up. Happy birthday.” She clinked her glass against his, shaking her head as he cracked up, thinking it was hilarious. “You’re not allowed to buy me any more rings, this just causes trouble.”

“Good trouble.” He protested and took off his signet ring with his initials, sliding it onto her thumb. “C’mon, you hardly wear any other jewelry daily. I like buying you things.”

“I know you do.” She rolled her eyes and pushed the menu to him. “Here. It’s our last night so go crazy.”

He paused, scanning over the menu. “Are we splitting this?”

“No, it’s your birthday dinner. My treat.” She frowned when he flipped the menu to just the entrees without any meat or fish. “No worrying about money.”

“I’m not. The carbonara at the other table looked good.” He replied, wishing he’d looked at how much the wine was that she ordered and made a mental note to pay for all their meals in the airport.

“You don’t like carbonara.”

“Maybe I do here.”

“Rafe.” She reached over and flicked the menu back to the more expensive options. “Do not hold back. I’m serious. I got this reservation back in June and I have more money left in my budget for this trip than I thought I would by now. Let me do this for you.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. And if you really want the carbonara, I’m getting it, so you can have some.”

He laughed as she reached over and refilled his wine glass. “Trying to get me drunk so I’ll give in?”

“Yeah, will it work?” She grinned.

He just shook his head and took a sip with a smile. “You’re spoiling me today.”

“Yeah, you deserve it.”

They were both giggly and drunk by the time they made it back to their hotel, after missing their metro stop twice. When they finally showered and collapsed into bed - to actually sleep, that time - Rafe hugged her close and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I love you, Sophie. Thank you. So much.”

“Love you too, baby.” She murmured. “My favorite.”

When Rafe’s watch buzzed at 1am the next morning, he stirred a little, going to turn it off, but paused when he saw he had a call from his dad. He carefully untangled himself from Sophie’s koala grip and slipped out of bed, tugging on some joggers and a shirt before heading out to the hotel lobby to answer the call. “Dad? Is something wrong?”

“Can’t I wish my son a happy birthday?” Ward asked.

Rafe relaxed a little bit, settling back against a couch. “Yeah, um, it’s just early. I figured something was wrong with Wheezie or Sarah.”

“Ohio’s got the same time as the Outer Banks, kid.”

“I’m on that trip with Sophie, remember, I told you about it in June? We’re in Rome. I’m going home soon.”

Ward’s tone turned slightly sour as he was reminded. “Right. Forgot. You went all the way across the world for this girl?”

Rafe dug his fingernails into his palm, keeping his tone even. “For my girlfriend, yes. I love her.”

Ward sighed. “I’m sure you think you do, Rafe.”

“I know I do.”

His dad paused before speaking again. “I just don’t understand. You had a perfectly good thing going with Brooklyn, she has a great family. She’s used to our lifestyle.”

Rafe was exasperated, as well as exhausted, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She cheated on me, Dad. Do we have to talk about this now?”

“Must have done something to fuck it up.” Ward shot back, taking on a defensive tone.

Sophie had realized she was alone in bed by then and crept out of their room, following the muffled sound of his voice to find him in the lobby. She crossed her arms, frowning, and mouthed ‘come back to sleep.’

Rafe motioned her away and gave her a fake smile, shaking his head. She frowned, not convinced, and came up behind him on the couch, slipping her arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

“I didn’t do anything.” Rafe replied curtly, standing to follow her back to the room. He lowered the volume on his phone so Sophie couldn’t hear a single word.

“Right.” Ward was unconvinced. “I’m sure this girl is just with you to get money out of you, don’t let yourself be fooled. I didn’t work this hard for our family just to let you think you’re in love with someone that can’t provide.”

Rafe was too tired to argue and kept his face impassive, wanting to end the conversation sooner than later with Sophie there. “That’s not it.” She took his hand and led him back to their room, staying quiet but watching his expression carefully.

“I’m just looking out for you.” Ward insisted. “You didn’t - you didn’t knock her up. Did you?” He questioned and Rafe wrinkled his nose a tiny bit at his accusatory tone. “No, Dad, of course not.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows, surprised that Ward had called, and let them both back into the room. Rafe gave her a quick smile and shut himself in the bathroom, not wanting her to hear any more.

“Oh. Well. Just, be careful.”

“I am. Uh, thanks for calling, I guess.”

“Right. Happy birthday. 21, right?”

Rafe’s face twisted and he was surprised to feel a few tears running down his cheeks as he leaned back against the wall, head hung low. “Close. 22.”

Ward made a small ‘huh’ noise. “22, I knew that. Night, son.”

When Rafe hung up, he let out a choked laugh, pressing the heels of his hands hard against his eyes. Even if it was the first time in a while his dad had called on his birthday, he still couldn’t even remember his age.

Carefully, Sophie opened the door, peering in. “Baby? Are you alright?”

He turned to her with tears in his eyes, trying his best to force a smile, but she realized right away and pulled him into a hug, holding him tight. “Come back to bed, Rafe.”

He followed her out and crawled back into bed with her, burying his face against her chest as she combed through his hair. “I deserve better.” He mumbled brokenly.

She frowned. “Of course you do, baby. I’m sorry. What’d he say?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He muttered, and he was so tired that he let his guard down to cry, shoulders shaking a little as he did. Sophie practically clung to him, letting him bury his face in her neck as she stroked her back. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re alright.” She whispered.

He nodded a little, nudging his leg over her waist to draw her closer. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Rafe, so goddamn much.”

“What time’s our flight tomorrow?” He mumbled against her skin.

“Not til six, we can sleep in if you want.” She pulled back just a little to kiss him, peppering kisses over his cheeks. “I love you. No matter what anyone says.”

He frowned and her heart broke just looking at how defeated he seemed. “You didn’t hear, did you?”

“No. It’s okay. You gotta sleep, baby.” Sophie pulled the blankets back over them, nudging him up so his head was properly set on the pillow, even though she knew he’d have his head on her chest by the time she woke up.

“Soph?” He whispered after a few seconds, sounding close to sleep again.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

She squeezed his hand gently. “Of course. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo

[tracybirds]

I was very determined to finish something today :D Yo all knw I’m back in lockdown which like... bro every time I try to write a thing that seems to happen so I’m snowed under again......................... Anyway, decided to finish up the exhausted Virg fic I began on Friday the 13th of August and how has it nearly been a month of lockdown already?? anyway I’m reposting the first bit with this, but wanted to say thank you to everyone who left comments on that snippet and encouraged me!! And big thanks to @gumnut-logic who read the first, slightly sleep-deprived first version of this before it underwent edits

It’s 11:30pm, my brain is no longer functioning, anyways, enjoy <3

 --------------

Virgil drags his leaden feet across the floor, still pink from the hot water, barely acknowledging Scott and Alan, chatting lightly together as he walks past them.

He’s not ready to sleep, but he’s not much good for anything else either.

He’s tired from the ground up. The exhaustion is only in his feet, his calves, his thighs, but it reaches up into his mind all the same. His shoulders ache, but it’s from good work and kind deeds, a balm for any residual overthinking.

He did good today, he knows it, can feel it in every torn muscle fibre.

He’ll just rest for a moment or two. Debrief can wait. John’s probably already written up most of the report.

He collapses onto the nearest sofa, but it’s more muscle memory than aim that lands him safely amongst the cushions.

“Cannonball!” crows a voice from somewhere above him, followed by a sharp yell of “Gordon, no!” and a crash that reverberated through his skull.

Then it hits him, and he launches himself sideways.

Gordon dives onto the sofa, arms and smile wide, as though he hadn’t just come off the same seven-hour mission plus bonus two-hour administrative argument with the nearest hospital who had just had their landscaping done.

And now, incidentally, redone.

Virgil glares from the floor.

“How’s it going, V?” Gordon says, still grinning.

“Ow.”

“Did you fall off the couch? You’ve gotta be careful about these things, you know.”

Short, sharp, monosyllabic words might be enough to fend off some lower forms of life, but Gordon is rather like moss, clinging to hard rock. Virgil opts to ignore him instead as he picks himself up with a groan.

A strong, sure hand grasps his arm and he accepts the extra leverage gladly, hauling his stiff muscles upright and stretching them carefully. He can see the chair Scott had leapt from halfway across the room. Alan isn’t even pretending he’s not laughing, the jerk.

Gordon is nestling, smirking as he burrows down into his cushions.

“Let it go,” he mutters, his hand now resting on Scott’s shoulder. He can’t handle a shouting match now, jackhammering into his brain after a day filled with enough pain.

Scott settles for pulling the cushions from under Gordon’s head and he falls back onto the hard frame with a squawk.

Alan’s laughter erupts again and Virgil doesn’t bother to smother his own smile.

Gordon sits up and his eyes are shining.

“Fine, fine, I deserved that,” he says, grinning up at Scott. “Now, get lost and put the large lump to bed, I checked the stats. There’s fifteen miles registered on his pedometer and he basically hauled three tons today.”

“Not all at once, Gordon, stop exaggerating.”

Gordon shrugs.

“I know the medical studies as well as you do. Sure, they might not think rescue work counts as overtraining, but science doesn’t lie.”

“But, people do,” Virgil says, scowling at him. Each word ripped more energy from his depleted stores. “And I was resting, thanks.”

Gordon lifts a finger, waggling it with a half-smile.

“A couch isn’t a substitute for a bed,” he says, dropping his voice to mimic Virgil’s own. “How many times did you say that to me?”

“When you had a broken back!”

“Right, that’s enough.” Scott steps forward between the bickering brothers. “Decompression time for you both.”

Virgil blinks, realising that he was stooping to an argument with Gordon. Gordon, who always fought dirty, twisting intent and laughing in a way he never could manage. He must be tired.

“Virgil, can you get up to your rooms alone?”

“Yeah,” he says, holding himself upright against the sudden wave of exhaustion. It was as though in remembering he was meant to be tired, his body had decided to lean into that realisation.

“And Gordon…” Scott pauses, eyeing Gordon who was still fairly vibrating with energy even after nine hours in the field. “Go watch a fish or something. Just stay away from each other.”

Virgil is already halfway out the door and his ears have been stoppered by weariness, the external world becoming fuzzy. He doesn’t hear Gordon’s quick reply.

He doesn’t hear Alan’s sharp cry either, doesn’t even register the way the world is tilting sideways.

He merely crumples on the floor in the hallway.

***

Virgil wakes slowly, awareness seeping into his bones and spreading outwards. His neck is propped up at an awkward angle; he’s resting on the pillows that he rearranges around him every night and they are much too high.

He moans a little as he shuffles, his neck creaking as it falls back in alignment with his spine.

The gulls call from outside his window, a high and keening cry. He can hear the light whistles of forest bird. The low murmur of voices unable to pierce the early fog of morning.

He doesn’t remember making it to his bed, but nor does he intend to rise from it.

 He wants to cling to slumber, doesn’t want to make conversation or move. But he’s already lost the game of sleep and settles for burrowing further into the light cotton comforter that had seen him through every summer of his life.

A rough hand on his shoulder greets him instead and he groans a warning as it flips him onto his back.

“Come on, Virgil, we know you’re awake.”

The voice floats down from above him. He grumbles deeply, unintelligibly, and turns his back on the inhumanity of it all.

A sharp poke pierces his clouded thoughts and Virgil growled as he opened one bleary eye.

“What?”

“Gentlemen, he lives,” crows Gordon, arms wide and ready to receive undying adoration for his proclamation.

“It’s been fourteen hours,” Scott says, grimly. “Time for a check-up.”

Virgil wonders at that. Fourteen hours of sleep, while rare in their home, was hardly reason for medical concern. He suspects though, that Scott already knows this, and doesn’t resist for fear that he’ll be forced to leave the warmth and comfort of his bed.

“The air’s stale in here,” he says instead. “I don’t sleep with my windows shut.”

“Arm,” orders Scott, and Virgil lifts it automatically, puzzling over his last memories which certainly don’t involve him shutting his windows. Or entering his room for that matter.

“I fell asleep?” he asks, suddenly.

“Right in the hall,” Gordon says, his eyes dancing with half checked laughter. “You went down like a ton of bricks.”

“It wasn’t funny.” Scott’s manner is terse, his shoulders tight and the deep crease between his eyes growing as he turns to glare at Gordon. “He could have seriously hurt himself.”

“He didn’t though.” He whips around to face Virgil. “And you’re welcome, by the way. I convinced Scott to let us put you here instead of the infirmary. Even woke John up to back me. I risked the wrath of John for you, he said you were physically fine otherwise you’d be waking in that cold infirmary and Scott would have a back spasm from sleeping in those terrible chairs. All for nothing too because you’re fine.”

Virgil stares at him.

He wants to argue with Gordon, the necessity of rules made for their safety niggling at the back of his brain. He wants to roll his eyes, tell him that the infirmary beds aren’t that painful, that the fluorescent lights that blink and buzz might be made for suturing and not sleeping but that they held their own kind of relief, of comfort.

He wants to thank him, for giving him this moment where he could wake slowly to the sounds of birdsong and crashing waves, unheard in the depths of the island. For that moment where he could lay still as the sun streamed in with warmth and good cheer.

He has a thesis of carefully memorised protocols warring with pure sensation of soft coziness and the luxury of a brother who loves him.

He isn’t sure which instinct is winning when he opens his mouth.

“You made me sleep on two pillows.”

The room blurs as the soft mound beneath his head is ripped away at lightning speed. Virgil hardly has time to hear the whirl of rushing air before the pillow connects with his head with a dull thud.

Gordon jabs at his arm.

“No appreciation, I tell you.”

“Gordon! Out!”

Virgil throws the offending pillow after him, chuckling at the sharp laughter that pierced the slammed door.

Scott isn’t smiling.

He pulls the sphygmomanometer tight around Virgil’s arm.

Virgil winces slightly, but says nothing. Not yet.

Scott’s movements are precise and ordered, with nothing to suggest he isn’t conducting a normal check-up at all.

But Virgil knows his brother.

“Hey,” he says softly, watching Scott stare at the dial. “I really am okay.”

Scott’s not listening to the blood pounding through his arteries, not even in pretence. Still, he ignores Virgil and pulls up a new medical report so he can stare intently at that in place of his brother’s gentle eyes.

“Scott,” says Virgil, leaning forward and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Scott shoves it away, his eyes snapping to Virgil’s.

“Why didn’t you call for backup?”

“You were off duty.”

“I don’t mean me,” Scott growls. “I mean, I do, I would’ve been there in a heartbeat if you’d asked. But you didn’t, did you? Not even Alan. Not even John.”

“John was helping,” says Virgil, sharply. “Just because he wasn’t on the ground, doesn’t mean he wasn’t working that same stretch of time. Why do you think Gordon had to wake him?”

“Stop side-stepping my point,” snaps Scott. “We’re a team, Virgil, you can’t work yourself to the point of exhaustion like that.”

“What choice did I have?”

“I should’ve been there, I could’ve-” began Scott, but Virgil merely raised his own voice.

“You couldn’t, Scott. What you’re angry about, I could turn right around and parrot back, you know. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

He fell back against the headboard, wishing he hadn’t woken up. Or at least that he wasn’t having this argument, not here and now.

And he recognises those eyes, the burning frustration at one’s own limitations and the rising fear for a brother mixed with torn compassion and understanding.

He’s mirrored Scott all his life, and it’s startling to see his own familiar expression on Scott’s face.

“Please, Virgil.”

He doesn’t say anything. He can’t make that kind of promise to Scott any more than Scott could to him. Not without breaking it.

Scott smiles sadly as he stands, accepting the silence.

He knows.

“Don’t even think about moving from this room for the next twenty-four hours. Just... get some rest, will you, Virg?”

He thinks he will.

[songofsaraneth]

an incomplete list of the Bullshit ive gone through this year (2021 only), for personal edification:

I am in grad school trying to do research as well as TA a lab class during a global pandemic

My car is broken into in late February outside of my apartment. $1700+ of my backpacking/camping gear and personal items were stolen from it. Ironically they did not find the $20 cash I had. 

Car battery begins mysterious dying if left overnight and have to call for rescue from AAA 4 separate times over the course of March. I suspect it is related to being broken into but can’t prove it without a mechanic’s diagnostics.

First mechanic I bring my car to does nothing for the entire MONTH they have it, except break my air conditioning of all things. I live in a desert. It is now 90º every day. At one point they call me to say they can’t get the back doors to open. I walk 2 miles back to them from campus and demonstrate how the automatic doors work on a 2005 minivan. I begin to have regrets about my mechanic choice but the sunk fallacy cost keeps me there for several weeks.

Mid march I also wake up one day to severe jaw pain/a weird “loose” feeling, like my mouth is slanting sideways. It is midterms and I do not have time for this, so I take a lot of ibuprofen and eat soup for a week. After 3 days I shove pillows and blankets around my face one night to keep my jaw aligned and when I wake up the next morning it is severely tight instead of loose, and I have to carefully stretch it open whenever I leave my mouth closed for more than an hour. I guess I just have TMJ now.

At this point I am walking everywhere until bike supplies arrive to fix my flat tire since the bike store is too far away to walk to; including walking back and forth to campus since I can only bring 2-4 out of 8 students into the lab spaces at a time and so effectively have to run each weekly lab 2-4 times per week; as well as going back and forth for greenhouse experiment monitoring/helping undergrads on our NASA contest project

Early April I go to the dentist for a crown on one of my back molars, which I must pay for out of pocket because my new dental insurance purchased when I moved last September has a 1-year waiting period and so will not cover it ($1200). Stretching my jaw open so far for the procedure reignites my new TMJ back to high pain levels.

While still waiting on car in mid-April I have a severe averse reaction to the second dose of the Covid19 vaccine, resulting in painful ulceration of all the soft tissues in my body (mouth, stomach, genitals). It is a very bad time for 3 days and I book an urgent care appointment for the first time ever.

Urgent Care nurse-practitioner does not believe me when I describe what’s happening, and misdiagnoses me with herpes.

I am still biking everywhere but now I’m extra mad and in pain about it so take car back from mechanic so I can get groceries etc. I make an appointment with the dealership but it will be a week until they can take it. In the meanwhile I have to drive it every 8 hours so it won’t die which means getting up at 2am to drive it for 20 minutes in the middle of the night so it will still turn on in the morning. 

I have a terrible reaction to the numbing cream given to me for the painful open sores over my body, because of a lifelong mint sensitivity, resulting in an even greater amount of pain

The dealership can fix my car over the following week but its $1800 and now insurance isn’t sure they want to cover it after all

Herpes test comes back negative and nurse apologizes profusely and recommends a non-mint OTC numbing cream alternative that works (yay) and a numbing spray that does not work because it turned out to use an alcohol based propellant which should not be combined with open wounds esp on the genitals (ouch ouch ouch). I try to tell the nurse why I was right about my diagnosis and she was wrong but she still believes it was a latent virus of some other variety and and not an immune response alone, despite the published case studies I have brought to back me up. I decide I have bigger hills I need to die on right now and stop arguing. Sores persist into May but eventually do go down and numbing cream keeps me moderately functioning.

Car is fixed and I can drive again but it takes 2 hours of crying on the phone to my insurance company for them to agree to cover the cost of repair

I make a primary care appointment for the first time in years so I can have a doctor in this state if something like this happens to me again, in June I do intake/bloodwork/set up appointments to check out some other issues ive been having

Grad school finals happen which i wont get into but Yeah. Finals stress triggers another outbreak of canker sores, but mostly clustered in my mouth and only 2 on my vulva rather than 8-12. I eat only soup for another week. 

I get a referral to the local mental health clinic and call about setting up an appointment for an ADHD evaluation. They tell me to download and send in some paperwork and they will call when they have available appointments

I am supposed to be doing all my labwork over the summer but the committee member I need escapes my clutches and we don’t manage to set up a meeting to plan it out/for him to explain the protocols until late June

Bloodwork shows I am critically low in vitamin b12 and low in D, which may explain some of why I am so tired all the time

Ultrasound shows a 1.8cm mass in the adnexa near my left ovary. There are several options for what it can be (folicular cyst, other kind of cyst, tumor, ectopic pregnancy i nearly laugh at my Dr and reassure her the last one is not possible if nothing else). It may go away on its own or it may not. Follow up scan in 2 months

I remember I was supposed to email forms to the mental health clinic and finally send those in mid July. It seems cruel to make me be the one to remember this considering I am calling about a formal ADHD diagnosis.

I also finally pin everyone relating to my labwork down and have a follow up meeting + make a list of what we need to order, but the staff who place orders are on vacation and when they get back several reagents are backordered

I have my follow-up ultrasound. The tech takes lots of photos which indicates the mass is still present, but I won’t know any details until my next PCP appointment when they send over the analysis to her in mid-August

Beginning of August the reagents I need for the first steps of the process arrive exactly 1 day before I leave town for a wedding and the lab manager is about to leave town for the entire next week

After the wedding, severe thunderstorms and tornados trap me in Chicago for 4 extra days. I spend a lot of time at the airport or on my way between the airport and my parents house. A facebook friend gets video of the funnel clouds which at least gives me something to sadly email my advisor and committee members when I have to join our planning meeting from my gate at O’Hare

I lose my drivers license at the security checkpoint on my last trip through the airport and don’t realize until I am boarding the plane because of course that is happening to me now

On the shuttle from El Paso back to Las Cruces after this ordeal the driver stops and picks up a box labeled HUMAN BLOOD and puts it in the trunk and i am too tired to care anymore

I stay up all night making the world’s most pitiful r graphs for my meeting the next morning and everyone takes pity on me and does not call out how useless they are

I spend the weekend trying to motivate myself to actually go into the lab and start my procedures, and fail to leave my apartment. This reminds me it has now been a month (Aug 15th) since I sent in my paperwork and the mental health clinic has still not called me back about up an appointment

I get overwhelmed with Everything and make this list

So that’s where I’m at at the moment. And this doesn’t even include anything from 2020 thats just been continuous like, y’know, a global pandemic and having a bad breakup of a 4 year relationship and moving to a new city where I know no one for grad school etc. I feel like I’m falling apart/unable to do all the shit I need to right now but you know what? Actually its been a really bad time and maybe falling apart a little is justified ;_; 

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

If You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 3

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordam. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character,

A/N: The babies. I’ve outlined like eight chapters at least, so I think this thing’s just going to go until I run out of steam. So here’s a third part already. 

Part 1 - Part 2

March 2014

“You sure you’ll be okay?” Teresa asked him for the hundredth time since he’d gotten to the church. He was just trying to tie his tie in peace, but there she was over his shoulder, just enough mimosas in her system to older sister him. 

“I can see Victoria. It’s Gina’s weddin’, T. I’m not an asshole. She’s a bridesmaid. I missed rehearsal, but apparently you paired us off to walk down the aisle. Real sensitive, by the way.”

“Don’t like cry or anything either. Or if you do, cry in the bathroom. And leave her alone during the reception. We’ve all been drinking already.”

“I can tell. Honestly, she’ll hate me if anything happens, okay? Last time I saw her I left in the morning.”

“Dominick Anthony Carisi, what the fuck did you just tell me?”

“I saw her in November. We talked. I went home with her. I realized I fundamentally fucked up and she needs better, so I panicked and took a cab home at three in the morning.”

“You mean to say you had the opportunity to make things better with Tori four months ago? And instead you royally fucked up again, and you still think you have the right to mope?”

“I don’t mope.”

“I was at Christmas. You twisted your ring on your finger for like twelve hours and cried in the bathroom when her favorite carol played. Either way, I’m checking in with her. You stay the fuck away from her, Sonny, unless you’re going to get your head out of your ass.”

“Don’t tell me what to do! We been married almost eight years!”

“You haven’t seen her but once since August. Don’t act like this is a perfect relationship. There’s not really one any more.” Just like that, Sonny was left with the groomsmen as Teresa pulled Victoria out of the bridal suite. He bounced on the balls of his feet now as he gelled his hair, not prepared to step out for pictures and actually see her again.

“You slept with Dom?” Teresa bit out, sparing no time.

“Several times?” she joked before sighing and crossing her arms as she realized that no one was going to drop it. “In November. He left. It’s fine. Proved me right.”

“I told him to leave you alone after the ceremony. I didn’t know or I wouldn’t have paired you off to walk together.”

“All the bridesmaids and groomsmen are married to or dating each other, Teresa. We can handle it. It’s what? Three minutes of walking. And who knows. Maybe I want to hang out with him.”

“And you tear up every time we’ve mentioned him the last year.”

“I can behave, okay? I put my marriage in a box and tucked it away for the day. I’ll step out if I gotta cry, but really I had enough mimosas, I can pretend everything is fine but not enough to cry or nothing.”

“Okay. I’m sorry he’s a dumbass.”

“I shouldn’t of taken him home any way. We’ll be fine. Stop being dramatic.” 

As if to prove Victoria’s point, Teresa rolled her eyes, following her back into the bridal suite. The general consensus in the family was that both of them needed to get their head out of their ass and tell each other what was happening, but neither was willing to. She didn’t know they’d already taken a chance to talk it out and ruined it. When it was time to take pictures, none of the sisters missed the way Sonny and Victoria refused to look at each other while waiting their turns. It seemed the toes of their shoes were far more interesting. 

Teresa also noticed both of them were wearing their rings, and for once, Victoria had both the band and engagement ring on, the first time since she’d left. All of his sisters had kept in touch with her, accepting the fact they needed to stop meddling for a while. No one was maid of honor or best man. Instead, all of the siblings and their partners made up the party. That meant Gianna Carisi had insisted each groomsmen and bridesmaid couple get pictures, and she refused to have a separation keep her from having pictures of Sonny and Victoria, even if she was furious at Victoria for hurting her son. 

“Our turn, Tor,” Sonny said, trying to lighten the mood. It was a delicate balance, knowing his sisters and mother were watching them so closely. 

“Pull her to you,” the photographer encouraged. “I hear you’ve been together a decade!” Suddenly, Victoria wanted the ground to swallow her up, and she wanted to know which Carisi had been talking like their relationship was doing well. Still, she followed Sonny’s lead when he took her hand and pulled her against him. His hand came to rest on the small of her back and her hand rested on his ribs, as natural as it had always been. Almost like they hadn’t been living separate lives for seven months. They smiled for the camera, and when Victoria dared to look up at him, she couldn’t help but give a genuine smile at being so close to him again. She was soon rewarded with his dimpled grin, and before her brain could stop her, she brushed the strand of his hair that had escaped the gel back into place.

“Thanks, doll,” he smiled softly, hating the moment they pulled away. It was time for Bella and Tommy, who was freshly paroled and fidgeting nervously. It felt safe to look at Victoria now, and he took her in, thankful for the dress his sister had picked for her. It was a deep green, with a sweetheart neck like her wedding dress had all those years ago. The bodice was pleated before it flowed down, and little sheer straps fell off her shoulder, fluttering around her bicep. She looked ethereal, and he loved the color on her fair skin with her red hair pinned up at the nape of her neck. She caught him staring, and he felt his cheeks flush. Their previous conversation didn’t bring either of them closure, but it got the painful stuff out of the way. He knew why she left. She felt like he’d proven her right. Maybe they could just enjoy the wedding, but together.

“You scrub up real nice, Sonny,” she said, moving to lean on the wall beside him.

“Apparently it was an elaborate ruse for ma to get pictures of us dressed up.”

“Now we got a picture like we’re married.”

“We still are.”

“We need to figure that out soon.”

“How about we just have fun today? Or are you gonna make me hang out with Tommy all day and all night?”

“Divorce talk tomorrow?”

“Deal,” he said, extending a hand that she shook gladly. The thought crossed his mind that the champagne the bridesmaids had been drinking and beers the groomsmen had may be what was taking the edge off now that they’d proven they wouldn’t break if they touched. That was what had worried him the most. He was afraid any touch would break the wall holding back the emotions of the past year. That it would set her off and he’d make her cry again. Instead, she could take his arm easily to walk down the aisle. It just made him remember their own wedding, and while neither would acknowledge it, they still loved each other. It was apparently easy to forget a separation and months of no communication when he thought about her walking to him down the aisle of the same church he’d attended growing up and his sister was now getting married in.

“I’m jealous you get flats.”  Her head came to rest on his shoulder, and he felt a contentedness he’d not felt in a long time return.

“You’re so much taller though,” he joked, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

“True. I can reach your shoulder.” She wanted to say they shouldn’t get so affectionate, but it felt like before he got distant. They were on a team, sectioned off from everyone else. 

“Normally, you’re right under my armpit. Bet this smells better.”

“Your armpit just smells like Old Spice.”

“Good to know it works. Just get through the ceremony. Kick off your shoes at the reception. Just like prom.”

“Promise to cover me? You know Ma will be after me to put them back on.”

“She’s so happy we’re being friendly that she won’t care.”

“Is it weird for you that they’re all trying to play therapist?”

“They know how much I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Sonny beamed when she threw her arms around his torso.

“You ain’t drunk, are you Tor?”

“Two glasses of champagne. Relaxed, but sober. You?”

“Couple beers. In the same boat.” The last pictures were finished, and everyone was herded to the back of the church and pairing off. Sonny looked down at her with a smile, offering his arm happily. Victoria’s hand came to rest on his forearm, and she grinned up at him.

“You look too damn good in a tux.”

“I could say the same about you in that dress.”

“If all it was going to see you two happy again was for Gina to get married sooner, I’d have made her months ago,” Bella huffed, poking her brother’s back. 

“I’d have done it!” Gina laughed.

“They’ll be weird again next week,” Teresa said, and her husband squeezed her arm. The groom’s brother and his wife shared a look that told him they were still trying to figure out the best way to handle the Carisis, and it was also apparent they hadn’t thought that both Victoria and Sonny would show up and get along.

“Shut up, all of ya,” Sonny said, his free hand resting where Victoria’s sat on his forearm. “We’re walking soon.” Victoria gave him a grateful smile, and soon enough, they were making their way to their spots. They stole glances throughout the ceremony. They were thirteen and fifteen when Teresa got married, meaning their last memory of both being in front of a church like this was their own wedding ceremony, the one his mom helped them plan for their first wedding anniversary. Sonny just kept seeing her in that perfect dress, walking to him in the church they’d always gone to together. 

Where religion was not an important part of Victoria’s life, she believed in God, but not like Sonny did. She thought God was real, but uninvolved because she couldn’t reconcile him with the bad in the world. Sonny was devout and had reconciled his belief in an involved God with what he saw in his work. If there was one thing he was certain of, and had been since the first time he kissed her, it was that God had put him on this Earth for her and her on this Earth for him. Maybe that was why he couldn’t consider a divorce. It felt like a lie. When he talked to her tomorrow, he’d tell her the truth. Tell her how he shut down processing the homicides. Communicate. He took her arm again gladly as they walked down the aisle.

“Feels familiar, huh?” he teased. Every member of the Carisi family had gotten married here, their own church ceremony included. She nudged him playfully with her shoulder, grinning. 

“Long time ago. You got even hotter. Not fair.”

“I could say the same about you.” He waggled his brows, and she laughed, something little he’d missed a lot. She could imagine coming home to him again. Imagine him coming home to her. He was relaxed, laughing and joking like he hadn’t since things were good. Tightness came to her chest as she wondered if it was because she was gone he was doing better. She pushed the thought away, refusing to consider the possibility. Maybe he was happy because she was here. Gina had told them all to sit wherever they wanted at the tables designated for the bridal party, so Sonny settled close beside Victoria, arm slung easily around her shoulders. 

“The best part about no best man or maid of honor?” he murmured, leaning against her. “No speeches. Drinks, dances, garter, bouquet, party.”

“This party? Not ready for Dominick Carisi’s moves.”

“Please, Victoria Carisi? The true talent.” He squeezed her shoulders, kissing her temple. “Can I get you a drink?”

“That’d be amazing.”

“You goin’ gin and tonic or pinot?”

“Pinot.”

“You got it, tesoro.” Now it was really like she had Sonny back. He hadn’t called her by the pet name in years, but he’d insisted it was because she was his treasure to come home to. It always made her blush, and today wasn’t any different. She could see the way his mom was looking at her, lifting a brow. Not sure what else to do, she gave a wave, and Gianna shook her head. His sisters weren’t angry at her. They saw it as just a really prolonged fight. His mom, on the other hand, was furious she’d leave him and even more furious she was dragging it out.

“Ignore her,” Sonny said, sliding a glass of wine in front of her. “She got hysterical me. The girls didn’t.”

“Hysterical?” she asked softly.

“I couldn’t figure out how to function. Bella sent ma instead of coming herself.”

“I should’ve told you in person. I’m sorry.”

“It’s in the past. We’ll figure things out tomorrow.” She cupped his cheek, smiling softly. There were too many good times, she decided. She’d tell him she didn’t want a divorce tomorrow. Maybe she’d beg him to move back in together. His hand went to rest on hers, and he held it in place, turning his head to press a gentle kiss to her wrist before he laced their fingers. Their hands rested on his lap, Gina and her new husband giving a little speech before the DJ announced the father daughter dance. 

“Are you crying already?” she teased. 

“Shut up. You know how I get at weddings.” The hand he wasn’t holding settled on his bicep as she put her head on his shoulder. They watched each dance and as Tommy and Bella joined the other unmarried couples to catch the bouquet and garter. By the time dancing started, their drinks were empty. 

“You wanna join me on the dance floor or at the buffet first, Mrs. Carisi?” He was probably taking advantage of the levity to feel like they’d never been apart, but he was going to indulge as long as he could. 

“Buffet, please.”

“Good choice. Fuel up before we show ‘em how it’s done.” They loaded up plates, settling in at the table and eating happily. He caught her up on the extended family, what she’d been doing, what he’d been doing. They hadn’t really done that last time. That had been all raw emotion and desperation for affection. This felt like they’d never been apart. There was affection, sure, but it was the same grounding touch they’d always had. 

“You hear that?” he smiled, taking her hand and pulling her towards the dance floor. Her eyes widened as she laughed, arms looping around his neck as his arms settled low around her waist. 

“It’s our first dance song,” she giggled, as they swayed off beat.

“You're my sunshine and I want you to know that my feelings are true. I really love you,” he sang off key as she joined in. They could hear his sisters laughing. They still didn’t know how to dance to Queen together, but they’d been very pleased with their song choice, something that seemed to hold true.

She was giddy, a combination of the wine and normality washing over her. He spun her, pulling her close again and peppering kisses to her hair as she flung her arms around him neck. She’d left her shoes at the table before they even got food, and since he’d been wrong about how glad his mom would be to see them together, Sonny chased her off when she tried to fuss at Victoria for being barefoot, but not at any of his sisters. When the songs were the fast kind everyone danced to together, she leaned her back against him and his hands stayed on his hips. When the songs turned slow, he’d pull her against him, singing softly against her ear. 

“You goin’ back to the city?” Sonny asked as the guests filtered out.

“Yeah. I’ll be calling an uber.”

“Listen, I got a hotel room. There’s too many Carisi’s at ma’s.”

“You propositioning me, Sonny?” she teased, arm still wrapped around his waist.

“I wouldn’t turn ya down, but there’s two beds. Was sharing it with Leo, but he went home with one of the groom’s cousins. Otherwise, I’d be sleeping on your couch because you ain’t driving home or Ubering alone.”

“I’d like that,” she smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll pack up my bag and come back. I’m sure you gotta gather your stuff.”

“Deal.” He watched her go, knowing all he had was a duffel bag he’d barely bothered to unpack. She probably had a little rolling suitcase, complete with a change of clothes on top of whatever she’d worn here and the matching oversized shirts the girls all wore. 

“You gotta shit or get off the pot, Dom,” Bella said, stepping beside him with her arms crossed.

“Excuse me?”

“She’s still in love with you. You’re in love with her. Get back together or get divorced. This isn’t healthy.”

“I can’t be what she needs anymore.”

“I think tonight shows that you can. You just won’t.”

“Leave it, Bella,” he bit out. “Let me have tonight. She might leave before I wake up. Or want a divorce. Or I might not be able to tell her how I feel and make it all worse.”

“We just hate watching both of you like this.”

“She was made for me, Bella. I’m not giving her up. But if being separated and staying married is the best I get, I’m keeping it.”

“Whatever you say, Dominick,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “It was just good to see you both happy today.” He saw Victoria coming back, leaving his sister to take the little rolling bag she had, proud to still be able to predict something she’d do. She had changed into leggings and the Fordham Law sweatshirt she’d taken when he’d first started. She took it with her, and he was proud to know that sometimes she was still walking around in his clothes. 

“Ready?” she asked, and he nodded, hand on her back as he guided her to his car. Once he loaded the bags, he opened her door, smiling as she settled in with a yawn. 

“You’re gonna be asleep before we get to the room.”

“I’m tired,” she whined. “We got here early.”

“I’ll get ya tucked in soon, Tor.” When they got there, she was out. The bags were in the trunk, so he scooped her up carefully, kicking the car closed. With some maneuvering, he opened the door to the hotel room before laying her down. He locked the door before running downstairs to get the bags and coming back. She’d wiggled her way out of her leggings and bra, settling herself under the blanket. He couldn’t help but laugh, locking the hotel door and hanging up his suit and her dress as he pulled on sweatpants. He went to the other bad, hearing a quiet protest.

“Here,” she whined, holding her arms out towards him. 

“You sure, doll?”

“Sure. Come hold me.” He obliged happily, climbing into the bed beside her. When she put her head on his chest, he smoothed her hair. The next morning would be hard, he knew. He wanted her home, but he had to tell her about how the homicides impacted him. That would be the hard part. That burden was one he didn’t want to share. He watched her sleep until he drifted off. The sun coming through the window was what woke him up, and he was ecstatic to feel the weight of Victoria still slung over his torso. She stretched as he let out a yawn, smiling up at him.

“Morning,” she whispered, smiling the sleepy smile he missed. Now he realized what she meant. He hadn’t seen that sleepy smile but a handful of times in the months before she left. 

“Morning,” he murmured, rubbing her back. He wanted to say he was scared she’d be gone, but he’d been the one to run last time. If she had, it would have been fair. 

“Breakfast before serious talk?”

“Place has room service. That okay?”

“Yeah. I’m comfy.”

“Me too.” The arm that wasn’t wrapped around her reached for the menu, showing it to her. Once they’d picked, he ordered, absentmindedly twirling her hair around his finger. She put on some movie, and he watched her face as she paid attention. 

“You’re starin’, Dom,” she teased softly, looking over at him. 

“You’re beautiful. Can’t help myself.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, doll.” She stared for a minute before leaning forward and kissing him sweetly. His heart was pounding like it did when he was seventeen and asked her to homecoming as his hands glided over her sides. Her fingers curled into his hair and a soft groan escaped him. Almost a year. It had been almost a year since they were content and lazy, kissing in bed without the plan being sex and sleep or without the desperation of the night in November. She granted him access to her mouth, and a soft gasp escaped her. He pulled back, nipping her lip lightly. Someone knocked at the door, and a disgruntled sound escaped her. He chuckled airily. 

“I’ll get the food,” he said, reluctantly detangling himself from her. Trying to walk backwards to watch her, he nearly tripped, so he opened the door, took the food and quickly scribbled a signature before hurrying back to her. 

“You’re hot when you’re flustered.” He kissed her, cheeks pink. 

“You’re just hot. Here’s your french toast.”

“Damn, that’s even hotter.” He rolled his eyes, propping himself up against the headboard as he dug into his eggs. She settled beside him, eating happily as her head came to rest on his shoulder. It was companionable silence until the food and coffee was gone, then the weight of what they needed to talk about settled. 

“What do you want to happen?” she asked softly, twisting her rings around her finger.

“My wife back,” he said simply. 

“It’s not that simple and you know it.”

“I do. But I don’t want a divorce, Tor.”

“I know. I don’t either.”

“Are you ready to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” He wanted to kick himself as soon as the words came out. He’d spent the night before thinking about what he needed to share and what could help.  When the time came though, his defenses took over. Telling her what he’d seen, how it impacted him, made him feel weak. Like he couldn’t protect her from the horrors of what he had to see. 

“That’s my answer I guess,” she said, and he could tell she was fighting tears as she got back into her leggings and grabbed her phone and bag.

“Tor, don’t go. We can talk more about this. We had a good night, didn’t we?”

“We did, Sonny, but I can’t not know why you acted like that and come home. How the hell am I supposed to trust that you won’t revert back to being absent?”

“Because it’s different now.”

“Why?”

“I’m not ready.”

“I don’t expect every detail, Sonny, but I can’t not know what’s happening in your head. Especially when it makes you act like you don’t want to be home. Like you don’t want me.”

“I want you, Victoria. More than anything.” His hand scrubbed over his face as he watched her go. Maybe this was worse than if she’d left during the night.

“Then call me when you’re ready to actually communicate, Dominick. I love you, but I can’t live like that.”

[crazy-moko]

Ken ga Toki - Amane: Special Birthday Story

IT’S 18th August!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AMANE!!!!

Proofreaders: Ran

Translator’s Note:

**This is not an official translation and I’m just doing this as a hobby.** If you can somewhat read Japanese, please do play the game.

Please do not repost and please buy this story in your own account to support the developers. (it only costs 2 USD)

Protagonist Name:

Himari (Official)

Other Chapters:

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↓ ↓ TRANSLATION UNDER CUT ↓ ↓

Amane Hey, Karajishi. Big Sis Princess holds a banquet for everyone to celebrate their day of birth right?

Karajishi Yeah. Each and every month, it's always "It's this person's birthday" and they make a fuss about it.

Amane Yes, that's it! Heh, hehe...... Hehehehe......

Karajishi Wha-! What's wrong Amane!? You're suddenly laughing strangely...... Don't tell me, is it the work of Marebitos!?

Amane Geez, that's not it! Of all things, why did you suddenly think of that !? Goodness. Karajishi, you worry about me too much! By the way, you know what day it is tomorrow, right?

Karajishi Tomorrow? Is there an event tomorrow? I believe there's still some time before the goods get delivered to Nichigetsu-dou.

Amane ......Eh? Karajishi, surely you didn't forget?

Karajishi That's why I'm asking what day it is. Stop putting on airs and say it.

Amane That's just mean of you, Karajishi! Ah, whatever!

Karajishi ............ Is this fine?

Himari Yes, thank you very much. For keeping the birthday party a secret. But I didn't expect you to agree to this cooperation.

Karajishi Because Amane is usually the one playing pranks. I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea for him to occasionally be on the receiving end.

Himari Ahaha...... I'm the one who planned it though, so I feel a little sorry for him.

Karajishi Hmph. Well it's only until tomorrow. Let him endure it for a little longer.

Rou Ah! These footsteps, it's Amane-san. ......Kozuehime-san, are you ready?

Kozuehime Of course, it's the Onimaru's Princess' plan after all. It's fine, since we're good at keeping secrets.

Amane Big Bro Rou! Ah, Big Sis Kozue is here too. Both of you, listen to this! That Karajishi--

Rou I-, I'm sorry. Amane-san. My brother asked me to finish an urgent errand. I have to leave soon.

Amane Eh, really? But he's coming back tomorrow, right? Because tomorrow is--

Rou The thing is, we don't know when he'll be coming back. Is there something going on tomorrow?

Amane No way...... Not you too...... Ugh, fine! Big Sis Kozue doesn't particularly have anything on, right? You're always relaxing in the headquarters while eating sweets after all.

Kozuehime How rude! We are the queen of tree sprites! We're busy everyday. We need to head to the forest tomorrow as well to check on the other tree sprites.

Amane Do you really need to go and check on them tomorrow!? Does everyone really not know what day it is tomorrow!?

Rou Ye-, yeah. We're sorry, Amane-san. We really don't know what day it is tomorrow.

Amane *Sobs*...... Mean, you're all so mean...... First it was Big Bro Mitsukuni and Big Bro Basho...... Then even Big Bro Sabon and Big Bro Saganbou. Even though I wanted them to celebrate for me! Why is it only me.........!?

Rou Ah, Amane-san! ......He left...... Amane-san, it looked like he was crying. It feels like we just did something terrible to him......

Kozuehime But it's all going according to plan. Let's meet up with Onimaru's Princess and get the banquet ready.

Rou Yup, we should give it our all to give him a wonderful celebration to make up for making him sad.

--The next day.

Karajishi Hey, Amane, wake up. It's almost noon. Can you get out of the futon already?

Amane Leave me alone. It's not like anyone's going to celebrate with me even if I get up. It'll just make me miserable anyways.

Karajishi What dumb things are you talking about. Just hurry and get up!

Amane Ah! Hey, Karajishi! Let me down! Where are we going!? Even though I don't want to meet anyone today!

Karajishi We're here.

Amane Eh? This place is...

Himari Amane-kun, Happy Birthday!

Amane ......Big Sis Princess? Don't tell me this is......

Himari It's a birthday party for you. I wanted to surprise you, so I had everyone keep it a secret.

Rou Amane-san, I wish you a very happy birthday.

Kozuehime Amane, for the sake of another great year, this queen is here to celebrate with you.

Amane Big Bro Rou and Big Sis Kozue! Didn't the both of you say you won't be here today!?

Rou We lied, sorry......

Kozuehime You shouldn't blame it all on Rou. That was just a performance to liven up your birthday.

Amane ............

Himari Here, Amane-kun. You can sit here! This is a special seat reserved for the birthday boy.

Amane A special seat?

Himari Yup! Is there anything you would like to eat? I'll bring anything you want over for you. That's because today is your birthday!

Amane *Hiks*...... *Sobs*......

Himari A-, Amane-kun? I'm sorry. It's all because I asked everyone to keep it a secret...... You felt sad because of that right?

Amane No, that's not it...... I was glad and felt relieved. The fact that everyone actually remembered my birthday and celebrated it...... I was genuinely glad......

Karajishi That is but of course.

Himari From here on out, everyone in the headquarters will come and celebrate your birthday.

Amane Hehe! In that case, as the main character for today, I will sit here properly!

--The next day.

Himari This is...... A letter from Amane-kun?

"Thank you for holding a birthday party for me. Even though I like playing pranks on others, I don't like being pranked by others. I will repay this debt one day so you better watch out!"

Himari *Giggle*. I'm glad that Amane-kun was happy with it. Hmm? There's something in the envelope......

Another piece of paper fell out of the envelope.

Himari What is this?

Himari Wow, such a cute painting! *Giggle*. It'll be great if we can celebrate Amane-kun's birthday again.

~~Fin~~ ————————————————————————————————-

Notes:

OMG took me a whole year to translate this as;dlkjlgkasjlkjagkl;g

Amane being cute is the best XD

[yurawiththegoodhair]

*new fic coming soon!*

When Kagome agrees to visit Japan with Inuyasha for his best friend’s wedding and to meet his family, she hopes for smooth sailing and the opportunity to bond with those he holds dear. But what she encounters instead, might just ruin everything. An InuKag AU inspired by Crazy Rich Asians.

I should not be doing this. I’m not a multiple WIP kinda gal. I’m terrible at it. But this idea came to me, and it’s spilling out, and here we are xD This fic is CRA inspired, and the overarching story is similar, but there’s SO much that will differ, I’m hoping you’re able to even forget the connection by the end of it. Check out a sneak below the cut, and look for the first chapter coming sometime next week! 

“You know, I was thinking,” Inuyasha said, stirring his coffee and not meeting her eyes. 

“Uh, oh,” she quipped and was rewarded with a glare.

“You’re hilarious,” he deadpanned before continuing on as if nothing had happened. “You should come with me to Japan for Miroku and Sango’s wedding.”

Kagome felt her breath catch. She’d secretly been hoping he might invite her along for weeks, now, thinking it would be the perfect time for her to meet his family and friends back in their native Japan.

She knew all about his family, at least on the surface. He’d described his parents and their occupations, how he and his half-brother barely tolerated each other. She’d even heard him talking on the phone with them a few times, but Kagome had never had any contact.

It wasn’t as if he’d tried to hide her from them, it was just a natural consequence of living on the other side of the world. But they’d been solidly together for more than a year, now, had even talked casually about getting married, so Kagome figured he’d want to show her off eventually.

 She was kind of a catch, if she did say so herself.

“Oh, yeah?” she finally replied, trying her best to sound casual, even though her heart was pounding. “Wouldn’t that mean meeting your family and everything?”

He took a sip of his coffee before he answered, but there was a smile on his lips. “That was the idea, yeah.”

Kagome smiled back, but refrained from jumping up to hug his neck like she wanted to. “How long were you thinking of going for?”

Inuyasha shrugged, an air of nonchalance about him that she had always envied. “Oh, about a month or so.” 

She choked on her tea. “A m-month?!” she sputtered. 

She’d figured a week, maybe two. Meet everyone, eat some ramen, attend the wedding, and go home. Simple and fairly painless.

But this sounded like...a whole other level of togetherness, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it. 

His eyes looked a little panicked. “Finals are finished, and neither of us has to work again until August. It’s not like we don’t have the time.”

He did have a point. Both of them were on summer break, and had spent practically every waking moment together for the past few weeks. What difference did it make if they did that here or in Japan?

Except for that one, giant difference that was his family.

“But what about Buyo?” she countered weakly, unable to form any real rebuttal to his logical reasoning. 

Inuyasha raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure he’d be fine staying with your mother.”

Oh, right. That would make sense.

Kagome nodded and bit her lip. She had of course imagined meeting his family one day. Had hoped she and his mom would grow closer as they poured over pictures of Inuyasha as a baby, while he and his dad caught up over a beer.

It was quiet with no fanfare. Sweet and quick. But a month was a long time. So much could happen in thirty days. Especially if they didn’t like her.

Oh, god. What if they didn’t like her?

“Hey,” Inuyasha said quietly, reaching across the table and taking her hand, causing her to come out of her thoughts. 

She could tell he had easily caught on to her line of thinking as his eyes softened and he smiled that sweet smile of his that calmed her frayed nerves like nothing else. 

“You have nothing to be worried about. They’ll absolutely love you.”

[tobin-heaths]

Remember me 

request: Alex has been incredibly busy lately and basically forgetting dates/neglecting her gf. Her gf, R is understanding for the most part but can't help feel insecure and starts pulling away and distancing herself from Alex. Alex at first doesn't think much of it but then realizes whats happening and feels guilty. She decides to make it up to R and show her how much she loves her and how beautiful she thinks she is.

pairing: Alex Morgan x Reader

words: 1839

You knew it would happen again but you didn't expect it so soon. You thought you were prepared and that it wouldn't hurt, that you wouldn't let it hurt you anymore.

You were so wrong.

How disappointed can one feel when left sitting alone in a restaurant at a table meant for two?

You waited for more than an hour before the sadness took over. Alex had promised to come, she promised you with everything she had and yet there was no sign of the brunette.

Alex and you were dating for quite a while now and there was a time where you thought nothing could possibly ever hurt you again with her by your side.

Your head hang low and in shame as the waiter came back to your table looking at you with pity. "I don't think she'll be showing up today, Miss." He said.

"No, I don't think so either. I'd like to pay the bill now though." You took the last sip from the champagne you ordered and tried to hold your tears back.

Your phone was laying next to you, no calls or messages from your girlfriend. You didn't know what to do, you wanted to call her and scream at her, tell her all about the pain she had caused you over the last few months.

But that wasn't fair to her. Alex worked hard and way too much since winning the World Cup in July. The whole journey had been amazing but also exhausting.

Alex had photoshoots after photoshoots, countless interviews and not to mention the victory tour from August to October. So yes, you understood her forgetting about you, but at one point this had to stop.

This was hurting you as well, more than she would know.

It was your three year anniversary and you had this whole evening planned out for her. Maybe this would've been a welcome distraction for her but Alex seemed far too busy for that.

You returned to an empty home, scoffing at yourself for thinking otherwise. She was probably held up somewhere then.

Checking your Instagram you saw a story from said person. You held your breath for a second as a few tears slipped from your tired eyes.

With a shaky finger you tapped her beautiful icon and watched in disbelief as you saw her together with Allie and Kelley working on their merch. She wasn't even in Florida at the moment, she completely forgot all about you and this anniversary.

You decided not to bother her any further and just go to bed for the rest of the night. There was no use in calling or texting her, you were unwanted anyways.

Waking up your eyes opened and locked on the sleeping form of Alex Morgan. For a moment you were completely speechless as this came unexpected.

Your heart bursted with love as she was drooling onto the fabric of her pillow, her hair a wild mess.

Normally you would've touched her by now, gently caressing her cheek or lips, maybe even kissing her awake but you were so afraid that you jumped out of bed, careful to not wake her.

You knew you couldn't face her after yesterday, you wouldn't know how to act or what to say without breaking into tears.

"What am I doing?" You mouthed into the mirror and stared at yourself, eyes filling with tears.

You closed your eyes and leaned against the sink, the feeling of emptiness coming back.

Getting ready for the day you arrived in the kitchen making yourself some coffee and scrambled eggs with a small amount of porridge. Alex would get up soon, it was practice day.

"Morning, baby, I missed you." Arms circled around your waist as you stood at the stove, your body tensing in shock.

"You did?" Your hands were slightly shaking, your throat closing up as if you were getting choked.

Alex' perfume numbed your mind, the warmth of her skin numbed you, her whole presence was intoxicating.

She turned you around and stared at you, her eyes screaming 'don't you dare look away'. You couldn't stand this, it didn't feel right to you, so you quickly duck out of her arms and walked over to the table taking your plates, disappearing into the garden right as she was about to kiss your lips.

Alex stared after you with confusion and shrugged not thinking much of it as she filled herself a cup of coffee.

Arriving at practice in separate cars– you left home earlier than her– you quickly changed in the locker room and walked out onto the field.

Alex arrived shortly after, the both of you normally always drive together but again she didn't think much of it at that point.

"Look who's here, bitch, give me all the juicy details. Did she bang you yesterday?" Ashlyn was smirking as she walked towards you, Ali not far behind.

"I don't really wanna talk about it, Ash." You sighed and walked off. She turned around and looked at Ali who was raising her eyebrows and shrugging her shoulders. "Guess we'll ask Alex then." She said and stared after you.

As practice started you kept your distance from the brunette. You rarely looked at her, only if you had to when passing the ball or yelling for a pass. Otherwise you kept your eyes to the ground, talked to others or hurried away before she could talk to you.

Alex grew more and more confused. Deciding enough was enough she walked over to Ashlyn. "Hey, do you know what's up with Y/N? She's been weird ever since the morning."

"Don't ask us. Too much sex maybe? Her legs work rather fine though." Ash giggled. "Don't mind her. How was the date anyways? She was really excited days ahead." Ali spoke, pushing Ash away from them both.

"Date?" Alex frowns. And then it dawned on her. You acting so weirdly the whole time, drifting away from her, looking at her with a longing look whenever you thought she wasn't paying attention. It all made sense now.

Alex slapped her forehead and groaned. "Oh my god. I'm such an idiot. I screwed up, Ali. I don't know if she'll forgive me." Alex panicked.

"What? What happened? What do you mean?" Ali asked stepping closer to her friend.

"I forgot about the anniversary, I was out of the state yesterday working on merch. I didn't mean to, Ali. Fuck! This wasn't my first time forgetting about her. She said it was fine but never acted like this. I believed her. I was so busy with everything going on, I didn't mean to. What do I do now?"

She looked over to you running away from Ash who was trying to snatch the ball from your feet.

"I think you know exactly what to do. You're Alex Morgan. Apologize and make it up to your lady! She loves you." Ali said.

Practice went by smoothly for you, Ash and Ali taking you out to the city afterwards, it was much needed.

Walking up to your front door hours later your mood crashed once again, the house was dark therefore Alex was not home yet.

"Here we go again." You mumbled as you opened the door.

Your eyes widened seeing dozens of rose petals laying on the floor building a trail towards the living room where small candles illuminated the room.

You dropped your bag at the door and followed the petals until you reached the living room, your mouth wide open in amazement, your heart beating a mile.

Alex was standing in front of the huge dining table dressed in a gorgeous red dress, hair and makeup done, whereas you looked like a mess with your boring street clothes. The beauty of this woman was unmatched.

"Alex I–" You were speechless. "Please don't say anything. Let's sit and listen to me, please." She said and pointed at the chair she pulled out for you.

"Alex, what's all this?" You asked sitting down, watching her walk over to her spot.

There was a delicious looking plate of pasta in front of you, two huge candles lighting up the space as more rose petals decorated the table. You also noticed the fire burning in the background.

Taking a deep breath Alex began talking. "First of all, I'm sorry for screwing up and forgetting our anniversary. It wasn't my intention to let you hang like that. I was out of my mind, all the appointments completely taking over. It's not an excuse, I know that. You were always so patient with me every time I forgot about us. I don't know how I deserve you, honestly. It blows my mind that you're my girlfriend. Nobody could have my back like you do, all the support you gave me whenever I was drowning in work. I'm sorry I couldn't give back to you, I feel absolutely terrible."

"I know you're drowning in work, you just won a damn World Cup. I'll always be with you and support you no matter what but it felt awful yesterday. It was our anniversary for heaven's sake, Alex! How can you forget about that? I can understand all the other dates, it's not that important, I mean I'm not a national player like you, I don't know much about all that pressure and constant visibility with media but this was about us, it should've distracted you. I love you, Alex, so much and I don't want to spend my life without you. I felt like a burden and other times I felt like my anger and sadness wasn't right, like it was unfair. It made me think what if you were falling out of love with me?" You teared up.

Alex hurried over to you and hugged you. "Don't ever say that again, no matter what, you hear me? No matter what, I'll always fucking love you, Y/N. You are the most beautiful, amazing, supportive human I've met. I'd be an idiot to throw that away. I don't know how I could let it get that far, this never happened to me before. I'll make it up to you, baby. I promise."

Her thumbs gently brushed your tears away and kissed your lips.

Your emotions were all over the place. You really were head over heels for this woman, you could've married her on the spot.

"Let's try to enjoy this dinner before I'll take you upstairs into the bath. We can watch some movies afterwards and cuddle like there's no tomorrow. I bought some ice cream as well. I'll make it up to you, babe."

"I'm just glad to have you to myself now. I know you can make it up. I'm excited for what you have in store but please, never let that happen again, this was scary as hell." You finally dug into your pasta having not eaten much since practice.

And Alex did indeed make it up to you, in all the right ways.

[pixiegrl]

how ABOUT for the malum “I would’ve had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm, and I didn’t want to wake you.” :-) some soft morning cuteness love u

Mandie! Hilariously enough I wrote a Malum piece to this prompt back in August and this is a pseudo sequel to that. Please enjoy for @blackbutterfliescal and @devilatmydoor celebration for Michael’s bday! 

On ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625850

Michael goes to roll over and finds that he can’t. Opening his eyes reveals that it’s because Calum is sleeping on his arm. Specifically, he’s curled up, snuggling into Michael’s side and snoring slightly in his sleep. Calum has one arm thrown over Michael’s chest, face pressed into Michael’s neck. It’s making Michael overly warm, pressed this close, but he doesn’t want to wake Calum up and disturb him. Michael knows it’s his turn to make breakfast, has a whole plan for what to do that involves pancakes and the fancy espresso that Calum likes but he can’t be bothered to move when Calum’s like this. He looks sleep soft and comfortable, burrowed into Michael’s neck, Duke curled up behind his knees, Moose and South draped over their feet. It’s rare to get mornings like this, living in their own bubble of domesticity. Mornings like this make Michael think about marriage, about being able to live like this forever. Logically, he knows that he and Calum are forever, that they’re going to get married at some point (especially since their conversation before Luke and Ashton’s wedding) but sometimes Michael gets nervous. He gets worried that eventually Calum will get bored of him, his late nights and video games and stupid brain that gets a little broken sometimes and tells him he’s not good enough. Calum’s his best friend though, knows Michael better than he knows himself, always knows how to pull Michael back from the edge. He’s never tired of Michael in all the years that he’s known him. Calum is Michael’s rock, his constant, even when Michael’s at his worst. Calum is sunshine and light and Michael adores him. 

Calum huffs, burrowing further into Michael’s chest. Michael snorts, reaching a hand up to play with Calum’s hair. Michael knows they need to get up, set to meet with Luke and Ashton, discuss band plans and tour breaks and the honeymoon they wanna take and trips back to see all their families. Michael knows they’re going to be running late if he doesn’t wake Calum up but he doesn’t have the heart to. Calum looks so peaceful like this, curled up with the dogs. It seems a shame to walk Calum up. 

Michael allows another few minutes of Calum curled up before he checks the time and realizes that they need to get up now or they’ll be really late. 

“Cal. Sweetie, you gotta get up,” Michael says, jostling Calum’s shoulder. Calum mumbles, stirring and opening his eyes. 

“Don’t wanna.” 

“We have to get up to meet the guys.” 

“Too comfortable.” 

“Well, my arm is asleep.” 

“Hmmm. What about breakfast?” Calum says sleepily, turning his head to look at Michael. 

“I would’ve had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Sap. Now I have to get up and make breakfast.” 

“Hey! I help!” 

“No you don’t. You distract me,” Calum says, rolling his eyes and pushing himself up in bed. Duke grumbles his protest at the shift in position, moving away and whining. South perks up, realizing that Calum and Michael are awake, bumping against Michael’s hand until he starts to pet him. 

Calum rubs at his eyes, stretching and popping his back slightly before rolling out of bed. He turns to look at Michael. 

“I’m going to make pancakes. Maybe I’ll let you have some if you come help,” He winks, making his way out of the bedroom. Michale sighs, heaving himself out of bed and following after Calum, dogs close at his heels. 

They fall into their easy routine, a simple dance around the kitchen as they gather the supplies they need for their meal, finding their pancake mix and chocolate chips and coffee. Calum starts the espresso machine, grabbing the pan he uses to cook while Michael fills the dog dishes, making sure they have enough water while they’re eating.

Calum hums while he starts cooking, mixing the batter and spooning some out into the pan, watching it cook. Michael comes up behind Calum, looping his arms around his waist and resting his head on Calum’s shoulder while he cooks. 

“See? You are distracting,” Calum says, teasing in his tone. Michael giggles, pressing a kiss to Calum’s cheek just to have him swat halfheartedly at him. Michael laughs, trying to plant more kisses on Calum, dodging each of his attempts at smacking him. Eventually Michael retreats, lest the pancakes burn, and goes about managing the coffee, pouring it into their favorite mugs and getting the milk. Calum finishes up the cooking, grabbing the plates and taking them to the table, where Michael has set out the silverware and syrup. 

They settle into eating, quiet as they chew, dogs coming to sit at their heels to whine for little bits. Michael watches Calum, lit up by the glow of the early morning sun through the kitchen window. It bathes him in light, makes me look ethereal and suddenly Michael gets it when Ashton calls Luke golden and Apollo and the sun. Calum is Michael’s sun, the center of his universe. Even when Michael is unsure of himself, he’s always sure of Calum, steady, resilient Calum. It overwhelms Michael suddenly, the love and devotion he feels for Calum. 

“Marry me,” Michael says. Calum chokes on his next bite of pancake, coughing as he reaches for his coffee, chugs some of it, still coughing. 

“What?”

“Marry me, Cal. I love you. You’re my soulmate, you’re literal the other half of my soul. You know every part of me, the good, the bad, and all the mundane shit. You remember my favorite candy, where I leave my glasses, the last time I drank water. You know me in ways I don’t even think I know myself. I’ve known you were forever since the day we met and I don’t want to wait any longer. Let’s get married,” Michael says. Calum sits there, blinking at him. Dread feels Michael. Maybe he’s misread all of this.

“Fuck you Michael I wanted to do it first.”

“What?”

“Propose. I wanted to propose first. I even bought a ring and I had a whole plan. I was waiting for our anniversary. I had a whole thing planned with a song and photos and a whole thing. You can’t propose first what the fuck am I suppose to do now?” Calum says, brandishing his fork rather aggressively in Michael’s direction.

Michael registers what Calum’s said, face breaking out in a grin.

“Oh, so you will marry me?”

“Absolutely not. Where’s my ring for starters?” Calum says, grinning. Michael rolls his eyes.

“Well I don’t have one. This was spur of the moment.”

“Not real until you get a ring. Means I still have a chance to propose first,” Calum takes a bite of pancake, raising his eyebrows at Michael.

“No, this totally counts. I asked you to marry me.”

“Sorry, I actually have a ring, so I will be proposing first it seems.”

“Not if I go buy a ring today.”

“Well, now I’m not letting you out of my sight. And don’t even think of getting Luke or Ashton involved. You know Luke’s shit at keeping secrets and Ashton likes me the most,” Calum points out. He’s smiling widely enough that it looks like he has dimples, eyes crinkled at the corner in delight. 

“If you’re so keen on proposing first, why don’t you?” 

Calum balks, “I have a whole plan. For our anniversary.”  

“Since I’ve clearly messed it up, do it now. Our anniversary is in a month and I’ll be expecting it now. You can do your whole plan then and we can publicly announce it to everyone, but I want you to do it now. Just us,” Michael says. Calum pauses, chewing on his lip. He sighs heavily, pretending to be put out as he stands up. 

“Close your eyes.” 

“What?” 

“Close your eyes till I get back. At least give me something,” Calum says, rolling his eyes. Michael does the same thing, but compiles, closing his eyes. He listens to Calum’s footsteps as they leave the kitchen and again as they come back. They stop at the edge of the table and there’s a pause before Calum clears his throat. 

“You can open them now.” 

Michael does. Calum’s down on one knee, small velvet box open in his hand, putting the ring on display. It’s a gunmetal grey, black gemstone resting in the center, glittering. Calum looks a little teary, staring up at Michael and Michael can feel his own tears at the corner of his eyes. 

“Michael, you’re it for me. You’re the light of my day, the other half, my soulmate. You never fail to fill me with happiness, to brighten my day. I can’t dream of being anywhere else, loving anyone else, the way I love you and getting to share my life with you. I love you and I want to marry you. Even when you keep me up at night with your video games and your cold feet and your terrible sleeping habits. Michael Gordon Clifford, will you marry me?” Calum says, holding the ring up. Michael feels like he’s choking, tears at the back of his throat. All he can do is nod, letting Calum slide the ring home on his finger, pulling him up into a kiss. 

“I win,” Calum says against Michael’s lips. 

“Dork. Maybe I’ll get you a ring anyway, propose on our anniversary and steal the spotlight,” Michael laughs. Calum snorts. 

“Guess we’ll just have to be dorks together forever.” 

“Guess so,” Michael says, pulling Calum onto his lap and snuggling into him. He doesn’t care that he’s technically lost the engagement game. He can still propose on their anniversary, put it up publicly first. Michael looks down at his ring, smiling when it catches the light. As long as he can marry Calum, he’s happy. 

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 1/10) (au)

Summary: Killian's daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn't care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself. 

Rating: E (much later in the story)

Content Warnings: There will be a part where pictures are posted without permission. It happens much later in the fic but if that’s not your thing, I want to put it out there now. And, of course, sexual content will be present. I will update these warnings for each chapter to pinpoint those sections!

A Special Thank You: Oh man, how do I put my gratitude into words? There are two constants in my CS fic writing life that I am so incredibly lucky to have. Thank you @captainstudmuffin for just downright prodding me in the ass to keep me moving when I wanted to give up. You were always there in the right capacity to keep me going. You did that reverse psychology thing with me that I always do to you with “Well, if you want to give up, that’s your choice...” and it worked. And then there’s @phiralovesloki who has listened to me self-depreciate for hours on end and still keeps me moving forward. And then you both turned your attentions to helping me get this thing edited and proofread. You handled all my tantrums, all my fits, all my problems. I love you both to the moon and back. 

And of course, thank you to the @captainswanbigbang for going with this rewrite idea. All of you modding this and putting shit in line and answering questions and being awesome and informative and helpful... my eternal gratitude for helping get this, my possible magnum opus, finished and out to the fandom. Much love to you all!

A/N: I wrote a lot of notes above here to start. Because of that, I’ll keep this line brief. Enjoy!

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 1: The Art of Routines

September 30: Monday

Every day, Killian Jones walks from his respectable dwelling by the Storybrooke Harbor to where he works, located right off the main drag. Storybrooke is nearly the definition of small-town America, but it houses a quaint-sized office of a British publishing firm that opened a branch over here last year. Three months ago, Killian took a chance to upend his whole life and applied for a junior editing position.

From a life in the Navy to a redirection of passions towards the fine art of literature, Killian has used a rigorous set of routines to get through every major upheaval in his life, including but not limited to the aforementioned relocation from London to a small speck on the map.

He uses his daily habits from the moment his alarm sounds in the morning until he shuts his eyes at night – operating his life in a tidy way and controlling what he can control while doing his best to accept whatever tries to throw him off.

Because of his method to build up his regimens, he knows that anything that lasts beyond two weeks becomes more likely to stick.

And for six weeks, Emma Swan has been part of his routines. Monday through Friday they cross the street together. They never speak. Sometimes they’ll smile and nod in greeting, but it’s enough in Killian’s book. Or at least, they’ve come to some unspoken agreement that it’s enough. Since the middle of August, this has been his norm, and thus it is now just another thing that marks time throughout his days.

The only reason he knows her name is because of the star-shaped badge she wears on her hip. That and being the sister of the sheriff are dead-giveaways to an identity. He’d heard of Emma long before he saw her as Will Scarlet filled him in on the townies. She, on the other hand, probably doesn’t even know his name. But he’s okay with that. He’s not out to meet the love of his life – not after what he went through with his last major relationship – but to enjoy a walk across the street with an ease he doesn’t understand and doesn’t have to. 

Day after day, he continues on, never looking back to see if she’s still looking at him. He’s afraid of what he might find if he does: either she’s also glancing back and this immediately becomes something different, or she isn’t and he’s effectively found himself with some kind of rejection complex. Both ideas are ridiculous. At the mere thought, Killian snorts and picks up his pace. 

On October 1st, Killian discovers how easy it is to throw off the delicate balance of a routine as strong as his. The alarm never goes off, or if it does, Killian either doesn’t hear it or turns it off in his sleep. He wakes, instead, to the sound of his text messages going off in quick succession, followed by the phone ringing and Will’s chirpy voice alerting him as he answers that he’s going to be late. 

With that, his eyes shoot fully open and he throws himself into action, hoping to get out the door in record time. He skips the coffee and the shower, throwing on the clothes he set out last night and hoping his hair stays in place with the water he combs through it. He’s out the door fifteen minutes late. His boss, Robin, will hopefully understand - he’s one of the most easy-going people Killian has ever met. Will is going to take the piss out of him, but that’s no different from any other day. Killian knew it was a mistake to share his location with his friend but in this case, with Will able to see that he was still at home when he should already be making his journey, he wasn’t going to complain about it. 

Instead, what he’s most upset about is that he’s going to miss Deputy Swan standing at their corner. 

And he’s right: she’s not there when he gets to the intersection. He pushes the button and diligently waits until it turns before crossing, just as he always does. It’s when he gets a full view of the patio in front of Granny’s that his steps suddenly halt. There she is, checking her phone and sipping from a to-go cup, standing at the table closest to the entrance. She glances up and sees him on the other side of the small fence that surrounds the front of the patio, and her eyes go wide. 

Quickly, she jams her phone in her pocket and exits the patio with two cups in hand, heading towards the sheriff’s station and away from him until she stops just as suddenly. She turns around to where he’s still glued in spot, knowing that each extra minute is asking for more torture from Will, but she walks up to him and he wouldn’t move if a bus came careening down the sidewalk at him. 

“Hi. This might be weird but… nevermind. Forget it.” She turns again, but Killian hastens after her. 

“What seems to be the problem, love?”

She spins around to face him again, a perturbed look on her face. He doesn’t know if it’s at him or herself, though, so he waits for her response.

“I’m not…” The words trail off, but she redirects. “I thought you might need coffee. You’re always so punctual. Figured if you were running late, you didn’t have any. But that’s probably ridiculous and just…” she trails off again, turning to dump the to-go cup into the bin nearby but Killian lunges for it. 

“No no, wait!” He catches the cup just before it leaves her grip, smiling wide when he successfully rescues it. “Thank you, Deputy. I appreciate it.”

“Swan. Emma Swan.”

“Oh, I know,” he responds, surprised at the devilish tone to the words. The only time he flirts anymore is when he’s two pints in at The Rabbit Hole on a rare night out with Will, and even then it’s with no intent behind it. His watch buzzes and Killian glances down to see Will is calling him again. When he sees the time, he can understand why. “Bloody hell. I’m incredibly late,” he says quickly, moving to continue his journey to the office and forgetting all his manners. 

“Is there something else I can call you, Incredibly Late?”

“Killian Jones!” he calls out as he gets to the corner by the post office. He spins on his heels to turn back to her, lifting the coffee again in thanks.

There’s an odd little smile on her face when he says it, but he’s still moving and has no time to wonder what it’s all about. “See you tomorrow, Jones!” 

Her words follow him around the corner and he grins as he picks up the pace to the office.

He’s amazed at how quickly his day turns around after officially meeting Emma Swan. Robin isn’t even mad when he shows up late, just happy that he’s finally sitting in front of his computer working on the endless edits he’s been helping with for a new book by an established writer. One that has terrible punctuation skills, apparently. And spelling. And grammar.

It’s barely been a half hour when he finds his thoughts drifting to the woman he only knows by name and reputation, and knows that somehow, his daily routines will never look quite the same. He wonders how much this little interaction means to her, too, if she looked so out of sorts when he was late today. And startlingly, he realizes that it did turn into something.

Running a hand over his face, Killian looks back at the page he’s supposed to be proofreading. He’s read the same sentence at least three times and still can’t figure out why it doesn’t feel right. It’s too early in the day to shut his office door and start reading everything out loud, however, so instead he saves his changes and closes the file, opening up a rain app on his phone and letting the sound soothe him while he stands up and stretches. 

“If you’re playing the calming sounds, I feel like you’re ready for more coffee,” Will says from his doorway. 

“You’re probably right,” Killian says, finishing his current stretch and turning off the app. “Shall we?”

“Ask Robin what he wants. Your treat since you were so late this morning,” his friend adds as he turns from the doorway. 

Killian makes a noise of aggravation, but still walks the short length to Robin’s office to inquire. 

Robin is locked in his own work, looking back and forth between three cover mockups that Will’s department would’ve sent over when they were ready. He glances up when Killian enters but only barely. “Coffee run?” the other man asks as he nudges each design around. 

This, too, is like clockwork in his life, which is why Robin already knows why he’s standing in his doorway. “Aye. Would you like me to bring back the usual or will you need something stronger today?”

“The usual is fine. Else I’ll be tempted to add liquor to it and no one at the home office will appreciate what I think of their last company email.”

“I have that whole rant recorded. You’d better make sure I don’t have anything stronger today or else they’ll get it verbatim.”

“Remind me to have you killed later this week after that chapter is edited.”

“I’ll pass it on to your secretary to be added to your calendar,” Killian mentions offhandedly while he leaves Robin’s office. This isn’t the first time Robin has scheduled to kill him for information he has on his superior. Killian’s sure it won’t be the last, either. 

As he leaves, Killian catches sight of the pictures on the wall. There’s a few scattered around his office, mostly of Robin’s adorable son Roland and his late wife. Marian passed just after Roland was born, making Robin’s decision to head up the American branch of NeverEndings Publishing House an easy one. The reason he’s stayed so long is also evident in the pictures of Regina Mills, the mayor of Storybrooke, scattered among the others. Regina was his “diamond in the rough” - the woman he never expected to meet and fall in love with shortly after he set up shop here. 

Along with pictures, there are paintings and his degrees, an antique wall clock that matches everything else, and a vintage bow and arrow hung behind the mahogany desk he nearly lives in some days. The whole thing feels like the den of some expensive cabin in the woods, but Killian knows for a fact that Robin put most of this together on the cheap. 

He passes his own little office again, noting the blank walls, the tidy desk, the single chair on the opposite side for small one-on-one meetings. He’s never really gotten around to decorating his work area. His degrees are still in one of the boxes in his flat, as are all the pictures of his friends and family from back home. 

There’s a single frame on his desk - just a picture of him and Liam at graduation that was packed into his luggage when he moved. Liam is beaming with pride while Killian looks like he’s about to bolt from the courtyard they had all gathered in after the ceremony. His left arm is tucked close by his side, and he knows for a fact it’s because he was trying to hide the prosthetic hook he wears from being in the pictures.

“So, why were you late today?” Will asks when they reach the doors and head outside.

“Alarm malfunctions,” Killian responds, as if there could be something besides human error to blame. Will just nods as they make the short trek down the street to Granny’s. Foolishly, Killian hopes to find his favorite deputy out patrolling or stopping for her own midday caffeine, but the only blonde in the diner is Ashley, the attentive but clumsy young server. 

Well, the only blonde woman. Dr. Whale, trying his best to flirt with Ruby, doesn’t count. 

“Have you heard anything I’ve said in the last three minutes?” Will asks, a touch of exasperation in his voice but humor lighting up his eyes. Instead of answering, Killian just pushes him forward to place his order. He pulls Killian up next to him and presents him to Ruby. “Tell Jones here that he has to come out with us on Friday.”

“The only thing I have to tell Jones is to place his damn order,” Ruby responds, her expression challenging Will in the way that only Ruby can. She looks back to Killian with a sweet smile. “You paying for all three?” He nods as he hands over the cash. Ruby winks at him, processing the change and handing it back before spinning from the register to make their drinks.

“Come on, mate. Come out this Friday.”

“I still have things I’m trying to unpack.”

“You’ve been saying you were going to unpack those things for the last three months.” He throws air quotes when he says “things” as if they’re fictitious items Killian invented for the sake of an excuse. He almost invites Will over to see what he’s talking about but feels like that would somehow turn into a standing invitation for his colleague to come over whenever he pleases.

“Yeah? And now I might mean it,” Killian retorts instead. Ruby places their drinks down on the counter before Will can press any further, and Killian spends an extra moment thanking the younger Lucas for exceptional service, as always.

“Kiss ass,” Ruby says as they gather their drinks and leave. There’s a smile on her face, though, and Killian knows that her days would be infinitely less exciting without him and Will pestering her at least once an afternoon. 

When they get back, Will takes Robin his coffee without having to be asked, which Killian is grateful for. But he’s barely seated in front of his computer again before Will is popping back up in his doorway.

“You’ve been summoned to the dungeons, mate.”

Killian drops his head for a second, trying to gather the energy to just… get up and go see if suddenly his benevolent boss has had a change in heart regarding his tardiness this morning. But Robin just waves him in and motions for him to sit down. 

“As you know, we originally hired you to be a junior editor to collaborate on projects.”

“Aye, that was the explanation I was given when I interviewed.”

“Well, we’ve gotten a new project that I’d like to see you take on. This isn’t quite a promotion, but it’s a test to see if I can trust you with something bigger than just standard edits to a pompous arse that doesn’t know his p’s from his q’s… literally.”

“I’m definitely interested. What is this project?”

“A young author has written a novella that twists fairy tales. It’s short but it’s deep, and I want your best on proofreading, but also on suggesting edits. He’ll be in to discuss the project at the end of this month, so keep working on your current progress until then. I’ll send all the files your way this weekend so you can start reviewing them whenever you’d like. Sound good?”

“Sounds excellent,” Killian says, genuine enthusiasm coloring his answer. “I look forward to it.”

Another disruption to the orderly life he’s been living, but honestly, this is almost as good as meeting Emma Swan. At least this feels like his disastrous start to October is no indication on how the rest of the month will go. 

-x- October 2: Wednesday

The next morning, Killian is back to his impeccable schedule, so he’s calm and collected when he strolls up to the crosswalk. Only minutes later, Emma walks up, eyes trained on her phone, earbuds playing music that she nods her head in time with. He takes a moment before she notices him to appreciate the view, to take in the dark jeans she likes to wear instead of a uniform, with black boots up to her knees. Her red leather jacket is half-zipped. Soon the weather is going to grow colder and he wonders if she’ll be warm enough on her walks.

She looks up, then, and smiles at Killian while he raises a hand in greeting. She hesitantly waves back, moving to stand next to him while they wait. 

“Good morning, Swan,” he greets just as the light changes and they start to cross. Her response is mumbled as she pulls the earbud from one ear.

“Have a good day, Jones,” she says, dipping her head as a parting gesture. There’s a smile pulling at his cheeks, and he turns to look at where he’s going instead of risking the possibility of running into something and ruining his mood.

For the rest of the week, they get to the crosswalk and he greets her. They part ways at the diner with her sending salutations before she walks up the path. In a way, it becomes a new routine for them. It’s one of the only changes to his days that he’s accepted as a normal progression instead of an uninvited intrusion.

On Friday, hours after his daily dose of Emma, he’s in the middle of the last chapter he has to edit when Will pops into his doorway in the afternoon. He goes to save the files and start the coffee routine, but Will enters the room fully and places two coffees and a bag with lunch on the corner of his desk.

“I hear you’ve got a bigger project coming up. Figured I’d be a good mate for once and encourage hard work instead of mucking around like we usually do on Fridays.”

The times that Will has been genuinely kind to him are definitely countable on his hand, so he’s almost afraid to ask if there’s a “but” included somewhere in there. However, Will just gives him a cheeky grin and heads right back out the door. 

When he’s made the final change and checked over the whole chapter again, it’s beyond the time that he normally leaves, even when he stays late. His eyes are burning and his stomach is growling again, but there’s a sense of victory when he sends the files back to Robin and shuts down his office for the weekend. 

He’s surprised to find Will on the couch in the reception area, asleep by the looks of it, and Killian is this tempted to leave him there because he knows exactly why his friend is still there. But the man brought him lunch and still owes him a beer for repayment of some good deed or another, so he knocks into one of Will’s shoes and snorts as he startles awake. 

“Come on, then. Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Damn right, you are.” Will’s response is groggy and expected.

Killian makes sure the building is locked up tight before they walk the few blocks over to The Rabbit Hole. He’d rather be in bed, or watching whatever his neglected Netflix queue has in store for him. While Will obviously went home and changed into something more casual, Killian is still stuck in his suit from work. It’ll have to do.

One drink, that’s all he’s promised, and then he’s going home to get the sleep he deserves and return to his normal order of events.

They’re barely through the door when he realizes his plan is going straight into the bin. There, in all her blonde glory, is Emma Swan. She’s parked near the end of the bar waiting for Jefferson to take her order. As he moves towards her, he hears Will greeting other acquaintances, but he’s too focused on getting to interact with Emma outside of their usual crosswalk that he doesn’t veer off course. 

“Fancy meeting you here, Swan,” he greets as he props up next to her. 

She jumps a little, clearly not expecting him to be there beside her, but regains her speech far easier than he would’ve if the situation were reversed.

“I’m sorry, you’re that figment of my imagination that only lives on Main Street. What are you doing here?”

He chuckles at her description of him and rubs behind his ear in a nervous gesture. Two more sentences and this will officially be the longest he’s ever spoken with Emma, and he’s enjoying it far more than he should.

“Out for a drink with my mate Will to celebrate a project ending.”

“Scarlet? See, I always thought you had better taste than that,” she says, a smirk on her face and her eyes shifting over Killian’s shoulder to where Will must’ve come up behind him. 

“Oy, just because I’m romancing your friend doesn’t mean you have to insult me.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it means,” Emma responds to him, but there’s lightness and sarcasm in the whole exchange. 

“Romancing? You mean you finally worked up the nerve to tell Belle you fancy her?”

“Like three weeks ago, mate. This is why I tell you to come out more often.” Will claps Killian on the shoulder with those words, accepting the beer that Jefferson deposits on the bar for him, and walking back to the large gathering of people in the middle of the room that Killian is just realizing are mostly people he knows.

“Not one for socializing very often?” Emma asks, following his line of sight and waving to her brother at the table. Killian swallows a little harder when David sizes him up, eyes scrutinizing the whole time. 

“Not as much as I used to. Will and I usually make our ventures out earlier in the evening and in the middle of the week when we do.”

“So is it the expat club or something? You and Will, Robin, Belle. I think Tink stops in and drinks with them every couple weeks or so, too.”

“Will and I work at NeverEndings with Robin. The rest is all just coincidence.”

She hums in consideration, sipping slowly from her drink. “There’s room at the table. Wanna come join us, too?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Is your brother going to murder me for speaking to you for longer than three and a half minutes?”

She glances back at David, who turns back to the group suddenly, clearly pretending he wasn’t watching them.

“Listen, he’s overprotective but he’s yet to kill anyone I had a conversation with. People I’ve dated, on the other hand…” she trails off, lifting her eyebrows to emphasize with a little shrug. 

He can’t help the laughter that erupts from him at that. She’s delightful. He could spend all his days having frivolous conversations with her and probably never grow tired of it.

“Come on, I promise he doesn’t bite unless you ask. Which is unfortunately more than I ever wanted to know but that’s what happens when you become best friends with your brother’s wife.”

“Thanks for sharing your pain with me. I hope it eases the burden of your knowledge,” he says low enough so only she can hear as he pulls out one of the remaining chairs for her. Her thank you is a quiet and pleased murmur, and he has to remind his heart to stop the constant drumroll so he can get through this evening with his dignity intact. He drops into the seat next to Emma and tries to bury the way his skin itches at the sudden change in his routine. 

A chorus of introductions goes around, with Emma giving names to random faces as she goes. He does know a majority of the people at the table, even if just by reputation. It’s nice to meet the kind schoolteacher that is David’s aforementioned wife, though he’s seen her in the library more than a handful of times since his arrival in town. 

“Everyone calls me Snow,” she explains after Emma calls her Mary Margaret. “Less syllables, more Disney Princess-ish.” When the topic shifts from greetings to the usual breakdown of everyone’s days, Killian seizes the moment no one is paying attention to them. 

“A Disney Princess that enjoys a little kink in the bedroom. Good to know,” Killian whispers in Emma’s ear, and her hushed laughter is music he wants to play again and again. 

When the conversation really starts flowing, he finds he’s less interested in drinking away his week and happier to engage with the people around the table. David still regards him with suspicion, but it probably helps that he doesn’t look like he’s trying to crawl into Emma’s knickers as the night continues on. He finished his singular beer ages ago but opts for water during his next trip up to the bar, along with food because Emma bursts out laughing when his stomach growls in the middle of her talking about a digital filing system they’re implementing. 

Emma nurses her one drink, and so he’s relieved to find her willingness to talk is due to genuine interest instead of alcohol’s influence. Of course, it may be because he’s supplying her in onion rings until she finally orders her own.

Their group slowly begins to break up, starting with the people who have someone home waiting on them. Then the couples start to leave, and Killian is pleasantly surprised when Emma all but shoves David out the door with Snow, insisting that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself. 

They talk of all things small: she tells him about working law enforcement in a small town, and he shares his experiences in Storybrooke since moving. She asks about his job and actually listens when he starts talking. 

“What’s this then?” Killian asks when Emma pushes up her sleeves. 

She looks down at it, scoffing a little. “A dumb symbol of youth and rebellion,” she replies. “I got it when I was sixteen because James and I got in an argument about how perfectly behaved I was.”

“James?”

“Oh, David has a twin brother. You know how people joke about having an evil twin? David actually has one.”

“Your family is delightful,” he comments, wanting to reach out and touch the heavy lines of the flower on her wrist. “Why this?”

“Buttercups are my favorite flower.” He’s learned so many new things about her so very quickly, but he files this information away in the event he has a chance to use it.

It’s when their whole group has officially departed that they realize the rest of the establishment is similarly abandoned, with only Jefferson wiping down bottles behind the bar. 

“Sorry about that, mate. Time for us to clear out?”

“I was gonna wait until I was done cleaning to see if you even noticed the place was empty,” Jefferson responds when Killian sets the last few glasses on the counter. Emma is behind him at the table still, gathering the smattering of bottles and the rest of the stuff to be washed. “Been a while since I’ve seen her talk that much to anyone she didn’t grow up with,” the other man remarks, nodding his head towards Emma. 

“My favorite bartender back home would probably say the same of me,” Killian admits, placing a few extra bills on the bar as a tip and wandering back over to help Emma get the last of the dishes from his late dinner and her ridiculously large pile of onion rings, of which she ate every last one.

“Thanks Jeff. Have a safe trip home,” Emma tells him as she hands him the items.

As they start walking, he expects anything but for Emma to fall back into casual conversation with him about the moving process he went through. He takes it in stride as they slowly amble down the street and back to their crosswalk. 

“I’m this way,” Emma says, indicating the direction she normally arrives from in the mornings. 

“I know,” Killian responds, his tone soft and content. “It was lovely getting to meet you, Emma.”

He holds out his hand, giving hers a firm shake. Once upon a time he was a lad who could court a woman without blinking an eye. It’s that thought that has him turning her hand and bringing it to his lips, eyeing her playfully from beneath his lashes as he looks up at her. This small gesture feels so foreign, but he likes the way she’s giving him a puzzled little smile.

“Goodnight, Swan.”

“See you Monday, Jones,” she almost whispers as he releases her hand. 

They head off in their separate directions, with Killian gently brushing his lips in wonder. 

Routines be damned, this is much better than a casual wave in the mornings.

-x-

Chapter 2

[writingmyselfout]

Because I Could Not Stop for Death - Chapter Four

Language: English

Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Reptilia28′s Don’t Fear the Reaper Challenge, Manipulative Dumbledore, Black Hermione Granger, Slight Ron Weasley Bashing

Prologue 1 2 3

Chapter 4: Writing on the Wall

Summary: Off to Hogwarts

                                                                                                    2 August 1991

DEAR Draco,

Sorry if this is messy. I thought I’d practice writing with a quill. It’s easier than I thought it’d be, but messier to. I have to remember not to leave the tip on the paper or it leaves big smudges.

What was the name of the restorant restaurant we went to lunch to? The cake at that place was the best I’ve had! I hope the food at Hogwarts is that good too. I can’t wait for classes to start. I’ve been reading a few of the books in the meantime. I decided to name my owl Hedwig, after a witch I read about in A History of Magic .

Will you be taking the train too? If you aren’t already sitting with friends, maybe we can sit together? If that’s okay, of course. You’ll be the only person I know so far. If you’ve got other friends sitting with you already no worries. I guess I’m just nervous. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape told me about being famous, but I didn’t realize what they meant until I saw people’s reaction to hearing my name and seeing me. Do you think it will be the same at school?

Write back soon please!

Harry Potter

4 August 1991

Dear Harry,

Practice writing with a quill? Do you mean you’ve never used a quill before? What were you using to write until now?

The Copper Crup was the name. Mother would take me there for my birthday because their food is of much better quality than most of the others around. Of course, they have nothing on what our House elves can prepare at home, but it’s nice to go out sometimes, as Mother points out.

Mother and Father have said they have gotten me an owl from a breeder to take with me to Hogwarts. I haven’t seen him yet, but I think I’ll name him Vespid, after the most famous Wimbourne Wasps Beater.

Of course I’ll be taking the Hogwarts Express. All students have to take the train. Some of the others starting in our year I think expect me to sit with them since our parents are friends. Father probably wants me to, since their families are part of the Sacred 28. You can probably sit with us. Some of them are kind of dumb, though.

Did you really not know you are famous? Have you been living under a rock? Forget just school, or even England. Every witch and wizard in the WORLD knows who you are! They write an article about you every year in the Daily Prophet.

Draco Malfoy

                                                                                                    5 August 1991

Draco,

They write a WHAT about me every year? What’s the Daily Prophet? Is that like a newspaper for wizards? I thought I was just a normal, non-magical kid for years. I live with non-magical family, and they don’t like to talk about magic. But after what you said, I looked at more recent years. Did you know I’m mentioned in our A History of Magic book? Only a small bit, I guess ‘cause they don’t know anything else, but it’s embaressing. Embarassing? I can’t remember how to write that.

I guess if you’re used to quills, maybe you’ve never heard of a pen? It’s what non-magical folks use. It’s a big of plastic with ink inside of it and a metal tip to write with. Or pencils, which is wood. I’ve sent one of each over for you ‘cause I think it’d be easier than trying to explain in writing.

It doesn’t sound like you like those other kids. Do you have to sit with them? Can we move seats during the trip? Maybe you can sit with them for a little while and then leave.

But what do you mean, their families are sacred? What are House elves? I remember what you said Beaters did, but who was Vespid? Sorry if my questions are dumb. There’s so much I don’t know. But if my questions bother you, I’ll stop asking them.

Harry Potter

8 August 1991

Harry,

You live with Muggles? No wonder you don’t know anything! I can’t imagine growing up with no magic. How terrible. Lucky for you, I know all there is to know.

The Daily Prophet is the wizarding world newspaper. It gets delivered by owl every day. House elves are magical servants, but only older, more magical families have them. Most of the Sacred 28 do, anyway. The Sacred 28 are the oldest, pureblood wizarding families, and a lot of them are very important. None, of course, more than the Malfoys. Father is on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts, and he knows the Minister of Magic personally. Mother says that because of that, I must be careful with who I become friends with, as they might be trying to get close to me so their parents can get closer to Father, or because we’re wealthy.

It will probably be the same for you, since you’re famous. Mother said the Potters were very wealthy, too, when I asked. Did you inherit everything? Are you and your Muggles relatives living at the Potter estate?

Most importantly, we must do something about how little you know about Quidditch. Elric Vespid was a Beater for the Wasps something like 600 years ago. He hit a wasps’ nest so hard at the Appleby Arrows’ Seeker that he retired, and it’s why the team became known as the Wasps. I have sent over my favorite book, Quidditch Through the Ages. It will tell you all you need to know about the game. Mother says it’s polite to return gifts when you’re given something, so consider it a thanks for what you sent me. I have never seen a pen or pencil before. They’re strange. I think I prefer a quill.

If there’s no magic at your house, what do you do for fun?

Draco Malfoy

                                                                                                  11 August 1991

Hey Draco,

Thank you for the book! I’ve read it all. I can’t wait to see a real game.

Muggles aren’t all bad. But you should probably never meet my family. They are pretty terrible. If they’re the first Muggles any witch or wizard meets, they’d never want to meet another ever again and I wouldn’t blame them. They’re the worst, really. But my mum’s parents were Muggles, and I’ve mostly only known Muggles.

Wow, is your dad really that important? You must’ve been surprised when I didn’t know who you were then! It sucks you have to worry about people being friends with you only ‘cause of your dad or your family’s money. I hope we can both make friends who don’t care and just want to be our friends ‘cause they like us , you know?

As for what my parents left me, I actually only found out at Gringotts right before meeting you that they left me a lot of money. I had no idea before, but I guess technically, I am wealthy now? But I don’t know anything about an estate. I tried to ask my aunt and uncle, but like always, they didn’t really give me an answer. I think they don’t actually know, ‘cause if they knew about how much money they’d left me, I’m sure they’d have tried to take it. My uncle actually said my dad wouldn’t have had anything to give me worth writing a will for. Can you believe it? I decided not to tell them anything. Maybe the professors can help me look into it.

How cool would it be to find out there’s some big ol’ house somewhere they left me?

Harry Potter

   With letters to read and respond to every few days, the month of August flies by for Harry. It helps that aside from when he first came by and his aunt informed him he was to move his things to the upstairs spare bedroom, his family has mostly ignored him. Their daily interactions were limited to letting him know meals are ready, and one time when Uncle Vernon told Harry to stop letting his owl come in and out of the bedroom before the neighbors noticed. Hedwig was less than pleased with the restriction, but Harry opts to avoid any issues by only letting her out at night.

   Draco’s letters were an insight into the world he would be entering in a way that reading through his books could not provide.Occasionally, his comments about Muggles or Muggle-borns, directly or what seems to be implied, make him pause. Harry tries to avoid complaining about the Dursleys once he notices, because he doesn’t think it helps his case when he tries to explain to Draco that Muggles aren’t all bad.

   After all, Harry isn’t exactly Muggle-born, but his mother was, and he feels like he may as well be when he grew up knowing nothing about magic. It makes him wonder if others think the same, or if maybe Draco grew up in a family similar to the Dursleys in that they hated people who were different. It meant either having an entire world that might think less of his mom if she were alive, or having a friend who might have a lot more in common with his dreaded cousin than he’d hoped. Harry prefers to not worry about it now and just enjoy having someone his own age to talk to for the time being.

   He’ll worry about everything else once school begins.

~~~

DRACO wakes up on the first of September practically vibrating with excitement, and much earlier than needed, as the sun is only just beginning to lighten the sky outside his window. It’s not as large as the one in his room back at Malfoy Manor, but this residence is in London, and therefore much closer to King’s Cross Station, where he’ll need to be in a few short hours. He calls for a House Elf to ready a bath for him and is a whirl of movement as he double checks his trunks to ensure that nothing was forgotten when the House Elves finished packing it the night before. They didn’t, of course, but he needs to move, to do something, or he feels like he might explode.

   He’s been waiting his whole life to go to Hogwarts. He’s imagined grand adventures and wow-ing other students with his natural talents at magic and Quidditch, and winning the House Cup for Slytherin for the next seven years. Sure, now that he knows he’ll be going to school with the Harry Potter, he realizes that maybe he won’t be the most popular, but he’s basically made the most famous kid in school his best friend before anyone else has even met him! So they’ll just be the most popular students together.

   The Malfoys had hosted an end of summer party to celebrate the incoming class of Slytherins a week before the term was to begin. Such get-togethers was really an excuse for the parents to talk privately of whatever matters adults spoke of, while the children basically bragged and attempted to ingratiate themselves with whoever their parents had told them to, often those present considered one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, or pestered the older among them to tell them more about Hogwarts.

   This specific gathering had only those whose families had children of Draco’s age and would be attending Hogwarts for the first time. Gregory Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, Theodore Nott, Gemma Runcorn, and Daphne Greengrass--with her little sister Astoria in tow--were all expected to be sorted into Slytherin with Draco. They talked about what they expected based on information gleaned from older Slytherin students they knew, or some of the wild rumors they couldn’t seem to get confirmation or denial about, such as the Sorting being a test of skills. It quickly devolved into comparing the quality and price of the things they would be bringing to school.

   “Did you know,” Pansy suddenly piped up, interrupting Daphne Greengrass bragging about robes she’d gotten in Paris over the summer for school, “that Harry Potter is supposed to be starting this year too?”

   A new round of rumors and speculations they’d overheard from their parents were shared. Draco had been tempted to tell them that he had met the famous Boy Who Lived, the elusive child celebrity no one had ever seen. At least not accurately. The Daily Prophet had an artist rendering every year when they ran their anniversary article about the end of the Wizarding War, but the only description that anyone knew to be accurate was the lightning bolt scar on Harry Potter’s forehead.

   Instead he had kept it to himself, thinking it would be much funnier to present his good friend Harry Potter to them all on the Hogwarts Express. Imagining their expressions had delighted him, and as he gets ready, still brings a grin to his face. It helps to pass the time, which seems to drag on as he waits for it to be time to leave. Once his parents are awake and breakfast is served, though, it seems to be no time at all before they are at the station.

   They aren’t the first ones there, although he thinks if he had rushed his parents through breakfast, they might have managed it. Draco is certain his mother, who would normally only allow them to be either promptly on-time or fashionably late, is indulging his excitement. Being early means he practically has his pick of compartments. He opts for one in the middle, the House Elf that accompanied them puts his trunk in the compartment for him before disappearing back to Malfoy Manor, and then he goes to say goodbye to his parents. He allows his mother to fuss over him, smoothing his hair back and adjusting his robes as he tries not to impatiently look around. Even his parents are in for a surprise, as he has only told them that he’s been writing to the student he met at Diagon Alley with the Slytherin Head of House, Professor Snape, but not who that student is.

   “Lucius!”

   The Malfoy family turns as one to the voice calling. Mr. Parkinson is heading over, wife and daughter in tow. He’s pushing a cart with two trunks, presumably Pansy’s. It’s left to one side as the parents start talking, and Pansy comes over to Draco’s side, asking if he’s picked a compartment and where, so she can go sit with him.

   Draco doesn’t particularly want to sit with any of the girls he knows. For one, in his small experience, they tend to get bored with talk of Quidditch. For another, the compartments look like they’d fit about four to six comfortably, which means there’s just enough room for him, Harry, Theodore, and likely Vincent and Gregory, and still be able to sit one more. But if Pansy joins them, she’ll want at least one other girl to come, and then they’ll be over by one or squished in together.

   So he lies. ““Somewhere towards the front.” He makes a vague gesture, glad that his mother, if she notices, doesn’t correct him even though he knows she kept an eye on where he went when he boarded. Narcissa Malfoy always knows where Draco is at all times.

   Pansy nods her head, intercepting Crabbe and Goyle when they head over to get their help with her trunk. Ordering them, really, and Draco realizes that since she got to them first, they don’t know where he’s really sitting. Ah well, he’ll have to try to catch them on their own otherwise they’ll just have to sit with Pansy the whole trip.

   Hoping to catch Theodore before Pansy does so he can at least give him the right compartment, he suddenly catches sight of a familiar figure coming through the barrier from the Muggle side of King’s Cross station.

   “Oh, he’s here!” Draco announces, catching the attention the adults with the outburst. Before either of his parents can react, Draco is off, weaving his way through the crowd.

   Harry is moving slowly, pushing the cart with his heavy trunk and his caged owl, fascinated with the sight before him. He’d known, logically, that the professors wouldn’t have lied to him about how to get to the platform. It hadn’t prevented him from feeling like he was going to crash into a solid wall and cause a scene as he moved towards the barrier. He’s surprised and delighted to instead find a whole hidden section of the station. There are people all around, adults saying goodbye to their children, students greeting each other and gathering in small groups, and then there’s a blond boy standing in front of him, bringing Harry to an abrupt stop.

   “There you are,” Draco says by way of greeting. “What took you so long?”

   “Hey! We left a bit later than I’d hoped,” Harry explains. “It’s like a two to three hour drive for us. How’d you get here?”

   “We have a London residence,” Draco explains, his tone suggesting that this should be obvious. “And of course, with Father’s connections, we got a Ministry car to drive us. Come on then, my parents will want to meet you before we board.”

   Harry follows after Draco, slowing his steps when he gets a good look at the group awaiting them. He recognizes Mrs. Malfoy from the glimpse he got of her at Diagon Alley, and Draco’s practically the spitting image of his father, so it’s easy to figure out which is Mr. Malfoy. The rest of the adults, however, he can’t begin to guess who they are. What’s more, all eyes are on him and although he’d tried to remind himself that morning that this might happen once people realized who he was, there’s something distinctly unnerving about the way he’s being watched right now. They leave his cart by the train entrance, just to the side so as to not be in anyone’s way, and then Draco leads him over to the group watching them.

   “Mother, Father.” Draco stops in front of his parents. “This is the boy I met at Diagon Alley, Harry Potter. Harry, my parents Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.”

   “H-How do you do?” Harry mutters, trying to stand still under their scrutiny.

   “Why, Mr. Harry Potter. This is a pleasant surprise,” Mr. Malfoy says, smiling. It’s not a very friendly look. “How exciting for the students of Hogwarts to get to go to school with the wizarding world’s biggest hero.”

   Something about the way Mr. Malfoy says it makes Harry feel like he’s being insulted or mocked to his face. “I, uh, I should put my stuff on the train.”

   Harry forces a smile, and then starts to move towards the train. He’s sure it’s his imagination, but he is certain he can feel their gaze on his back and he’s distinctly uncomfortable. He has a hard time trying to explain to himself what it is about these adults that makes him want to flee, as it’s not quite the instinctual knowing he’s occasionally felt since the day he received his Hogwarts letter. But it’s close enough that, as trusting his instincts thus far with the wizarding world has turned out in his favor, he thinks he would be better off leaving their company as soon as possible.

   “Hold on.” Draco hurries after him. “Go right from here, and it’s the fourth one down. My trunks have the Malfoy crest on them.”

   He’s basically being ordered, which might have bothered him if he weren’t so desperate to get away right now. Harry instead just nods before he grabs Hedwig’s cage, deciding to get her inside first and moving the heavier trunk once he knows for sure where he’s going. Finding Draco’s trunk with his family crest, an image he’d grown accustomed to seeing pressed into the wax Draco used to seal his letters, was rather easy. He set Hedwig’s cage inside, and then went back to get his trunk. He pauses briefly before stepping out, hoping to avoid notice, but a group of students coming off the train block him from view for a few moments as they stand around just a few steps away.

   Quick as he can, he grabs his trunk and starts to try to single handedly drag it up. “Need a hand?”

   Harry looks over his shoulder to find a tall, lanky redhead. “Oh, uh, yeah. That’d be great.”

   The redhead looks back down the train and yells out, “Oy! Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!” Looking back at Harry, the boy waved him away before coming around to grab one end of the trunk. When another, identical redhead appears, he grabs the other without question and the two lift the trunk onto the train.

   Harry quickly follows, directing them over to the right compartment. There’s an eyebrow raised at seeing the crest on the trunks already there, but they simply lift Harry’s trunk before nodding at him.

   “There you go, firstie. All set.”

   “Thanks,” Harry replies, pushing his glasses up.

   He stands out of their way to allow them to leave the compartment, debating on whether to introduce himself or not. Before he can decide, one of them seems to take a closer look, hitting the other’s arm suddenly. “Hey, is that a scar? You wouldn’t happen to be--”

   “Harry!”

   Harry turns around briefly to see Draco approaching, but his attention is drawn back to the twins as one says, “Well, we’ll be off then!”

   “Oh, okay, bye!”

   “The train will be leaving soon,” Draco tells Harry, eyes watching the twins leave for a moment before looking over at him. “I only saw a few of my friends, so I think they might be sitting with Pansy. I told her I was towards the front so she wouldn’t sit with us, but I think she told them the same, so they might be with her.”

   Harry frowns a little, thinking he doesn’t want to have to try to move his trunk. “Did you want to move over to where they are?” he asks.

   “Hm, no,” Draco responds after a moment’s consideration. “I’ll tell them I’m back here, see if they want to move. Do you want to come with me to find them?”

   “I think I’ll sit with Hedwig, I don’t think she’s used to all this activity yet.” It’s an excuse, when really Harry just doesn’t think he’s up for another group of people staring at him just yet, but when he looks over at his owl she seems to understand and starts flapping her wings and hooting loudly. “I should probably sit with her until she’s calmed down.”

   Draco shrugs. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back.”

   Harry closes the compartment door, goes and then sits down, reaching a finger into Hedwig’s cage to stroke her head. “Thanks.”

   She hoots at him once in reply before settling down. Harry turns to look out of the window, the panel above open so he can hear the sounds of the crowd of parents and students, many of them starting to say their goodbyes. The platform is starting to clear, an indication that they’ll be departing soon. A flash of red catches his eye, and he sees a group of redheads, only just visible as they stand a little ways down from his compartment

   He thinks for a moment it might be one of the twins, but decides what he can see of them isn’t quite right. This boy is shorter, though the hair is the right shade. The woman standing with him speaks up, and Harry can hear them clearly.

   “All right, Ron, you be sure to behave. Listen to Percy and, what’s that on your nose? Come here.”

   A younger boy jerks into view as he pulls away from the woman. “ Mom , geroff!”

   The twins appear then, and with them standing together, Harry notes the resemblance. He listens to them joke and tease the younger boy, who grows obviously more annoyed and sullen with the teasing, and then yet another boy appears. He’s already changed into his robe with a badge on his chest, and the twins start to tease him about being a prefect as well. Harry thinks it’s rather nice, to come from a family close enough to tease like that, even if the twins’ siblings seem to be annoyed by it. The one already in his robes allowed their mother to kiss his cheek, said goodbye to someone outside of Harry’s line of sight, and then seemed to board again.

   That was when one of the twins said, “Oh, guess who we just met on the train, Mom?”

   “Who?”

   “Harry Potter !”

   The one out of sight suddenly piped up, and it sounded like a little girl, her voice carrying as she loudly begged to be allowed on the train to see him. Harry leaned away from the window then, hoping to stay out of sight. How embarrassing would it be to be caught eavesdropping on them as they started to talk about him?

   “No, Ginny, the train is about to leave. You can’t get on,” the boys’ mother responded, cutting off the little girl’s begging. “Are you sure, Fred?”

   “Pretty sure,” was the response. “Saw a bit of a scar on his forehead. Malfoy’s kid called him ‘Harry’, too.”

   “Malfoy ?” The way the woman said the name made Harry frown automatically, not wanting someone to say anything bad about his only friend. Then he remembered Lucius Malfoy’s smile and thought perhaps, if that’s who she was thinking of when she said it, the reaction might be warranted. “Are they friends, do you think?”

   “Who knows? Maybe they just met? Anyway, we should be getting on, Mum. We’ll know for sure during Sorting. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be a Gryffindor!”

   “Be sure to let me know,” she tells them. “Try to befriend him if he is, okay? Poor thing, being an orphan raised goodness knows where or with who, he could probably use all the friends he can get.”

   Harry decides to close the window, distinctly uncomfortable with hearing the obvious pity, and not particularly interested in hearing any more. Especially since the little girl starts to cry, half-pleading and half-demanding to be allowed to go with her brothers or at least be allowed to get on and see Harry. It sounds like the beginning of a tantrum, at least in his experience based on his cousin’s tried and true methods, so he is relieved that closing the window prevents him from hearing the rest of it.

   What he is able to hear, loud and clear, is the train's whistle as it goes off to announce their departure. Outside, it looks like there are no more students on the platform, instead just a few parents and younger siblings, waving at students in other windows before leaving or waiting to see the train off.

   The door to the compartment opens as the train starts to move, and the youngest of the redheads is standing there. He’s taller than he appeared while standing outside, Harry notes absently. Ron, as they’d called him, starts to back out with an apology when he suddenly stops, staring at Harry.

   “Are you him?” he asks.

   Harry blinks at him for a moment, surprised. “Who?”

   “Harry Potter?”

   “Oh, him. I mean, yeah, that’s me.”

   His eyes go over to the trunks, and he frowns. Harry follows the direction he’s looking at and realizes it’s Draco’s trunks that have drawn that reaction. “I’m Ron Weasley. Are you really friends with the Malfoys’ kid?” Blue eyes lower again to meet Harry’s gaze. “You shouldn’t be, you know. Just warning ya, they’re-”

   “We’re what?” Behind Ron stands Draco, arms crossed, scowling.The redhead half turns, still standing in the compartment doorway.

   “Draco’s my friend,” Harry interrupts before either can say anything. “So can you step aside so he can come sit down?”

   Draco doesn’t wait for the other to obey, basically shoving him aside to come in and sit across from Harry. He gives him a smug look, crossing his arms as he waits to see what he’s going to do. He knows this kid’s type, trying to ingratiate himself with someone better than him. Clearly, he thinks, Harry can spot the type too.

   “Weasley, you said, right?” Draco drawls. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

   The stubborn look that comes over the other’s face makes Harry think that this might turn into a bigger confrontation when one of the twins comes by. “There you are, Ron. Are you bothering people?”

   “Yes,” Draco announces instantly, frowning at seeing another redhead.

   “Really, Ron, can’t leave you alone for a second.” The other twin appears, grabbing the youngest sibling by looping an arm around his neck and dragging him back away from the door. “Come on, you. You’re with us; Mum’s orders.”

   “We didn’t introduce ourselves earlier,” says the remaining twin. “I’m Fred Weasley, that was George--” the other twin, clearly still within earshot yells a hello “--and that was our brother Ron. Our fault for telling him Harry Potter was here. He’s not used to meeting famous people. Consider him an overzealous fan.”

   Harry blushes at the reminder. “Uh, no, no worries. Nice to meet you. Thanks for the help earlier.”

   “No worries.” George waves a hand dismissively. “We’ll see you later. Oy, Fred! You just passed our compartment!”

   The compartment door is closed behind them, and Draco shakes his head. “Weasley, the youngest one, clearly wanted to be friends with you because you’re famous. Like I wrote you, you’ll run into those types all over. Who knows, maybe the twins were in on it too.”

   “You think?” Harry considers it for a moment then shrugs. “George and Fred seemed nice even before they knew who I was earlier. As for their brother, well, I just don’t like people talking about my friends. Or telling me what to do. If he wanted to be friends, he should’ve just said so.”

   Draco is surprised at Harry’s reasoning, and starts laughing. “You’re weird, you know that?”

   “What happened with your friends?” Harry asks when Draco’s done laughing.

   “Ah, I ran into Theodore. Pansy convinced them I’d be sitting with her so they sat in her compartment. I told him we’d be back here, but it’s fine. They were being rather loud anyway. And this way, we don’t have to worry about Crabbe and Goyle trying to steal any snacks we buy. They’re always hungry.”

   “Their names are Crabbe and Goyle?”

   “Family names,” Draco clarifies.

   “Why do you call some of them by their first name and some by their last?”

   “Ah, it’s considered polite to only address those you’re close with by their first name, and everyone else by their last name.”

   “Oh, so when I wrote you that first letter, it should have said ‘Malfoy’ instead of ‘Draco’?” Harry wonders aloud.

   Draco shrugs. “Well, yes, but it’s fine. I realized since you were raised with Muggles, you probably didn’t know any better.”

   “I think it’s less because I grew up with Muggles, and more that your family is super upper class,” Harry argues. “That sounds like the kind of rule rich people have.”

   “Hm, maybe.” Draco thinks it over, never having thought of it like that. “Although,” he points out after a moment, “didn’t your parents leave you a bunch of money? So you’re rich, too.”

   “Honestly, I still forget,” Harry admits. “I’ve never really had my own money to buy whatever.”

   There was a knock on the door and then a woman opened the compartment door with a dimpled smile asking if they wanted anything from the cart she was pushing.

   Draco grins. “Well, here’s your chance to spend some, then.”

   Harry jumps up, more than a little hungry after skipping breakfast, only to realize he wasn’t familiar with any of the snacks on offer. “Wow, I’ve never seen any of these.”

   “Are you joking?” Draco shakes his head, answering himself. “No, of course you’re not. We’ll just have to take some of everything then.”

   Harry insists on paying, and then dumps the giant load on the seat next to Draco, sitting on the same side so the snacks are piled between them. Draco insists on letting him have the box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, laughing loudly when Harry immediately eats a green one he’d assumed would be apple or lime flavored only for it to turn out to be grass. The Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties are great follow-ups to recover from the strange jelly bean. When Harry opens a Chocolate Frog before Draco can explain it will jump, he’s so amused he opens a couple of the other ones, both of them laughing as the compartment is momentarily filled with half a dozen hopping frogs. All but one have stopped when the door opens and a round-faced boy is momentarily caught off guard when it suddenly jumps at him.

   “Trevor?” He pulls the treat off the front of his robe where it jumps and visibly deflates at seeing it’s just chocolate. “Oh, no. Have you seen a toad? I can’t find mine.”

   Harry shakes his head, smiling. “A toad? No. Sorry.” Draco shakes his head as well, and the boy leaves.

   Once he’s gone, Draco starts looking through the cards, showing them to Harry and explaining what they are when he realizes it’s yet another thing the Boy Who Lived knows nothing about. He’s highly amused at Harry’s surprise when, right before his eyes, Merlin stretches and then moves out of frame. But it’s Harry’s reaction to seeing the Albus Dumbledore, frowning down at it as he studies it, that piques Draco’s interest.

   “What is it?”

   Harry looks up at him, shrugging as he puts the card aside with the others he’d gotten. “Ah, no, I was just surprised. I’ve heard of Albus Dumbledore, but it’s the first I’m seeing of him.” Harry stops, wondering if he should explain the feeling of distrust that comes over him at hearing the name--and now seeing --Albus Dumbledore, but not quite sure how to explain himself. He has no frame of reference for what might be weird in the wizarding world, so he doesn’t know if this sense of déjà vu he gets is normal or not. “He’s older than I expected,” he finishes lamely.

   “He’s pretty famous too,” Draco informs him. “Father doesn’t like him.”

   Harry’s tempted to ask for more info but they’re once again interrupted by someone opening the door. The boy who’d asked about the toad is back, standing behind the girl who’d opened the door. She has brown skin, bushy brown hair, and brown eyes that look around the room, taking in both boys, the owl, and the pile of wrappers and uneaten snacks quickly before gazing back at the boys. When she speaks, her large front teeth stand out, and her tone is distinctively bossy, but something about her is so familiar that it takes Harry a moment to put together what she’s said.

   He is too busy realizing that the same sense he’d gotten from Draco back in Diagon Alley, that had prompted him to befriend him, is coming over him again twofold. Somehow, he knows that Draco might be his first friend, but this girl was going to be his best friend. He should probably look into why he gets these feelings at all.

   “Have either of you seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.”

   Draco sighs. “Harry already told him we haven’t. It’s just a toad anyway.”

   “Harry? As in Harry Potter?” the girl asks, eyes moving from Draco over to Harry. Blinking, Harry just nods. “I’m Hermione Granger and this is Neville Longbottom. I know all about you. You’re mentioned in our History of Magic book, of course, but I got some extra books for background reading and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts , as well as Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century .”

   Harry stares, surprised, looks over at Draco who shrugs, then back at her. “Am I?”

   “Didn’t you know? I’d have learned all I could if it were me,” she announces.

   “Yes, well, it’s not. Shouldn’t you be off looking for a toad?” Draco reminds her.

   Hermione frowns at Draco. “No need to be rude. Who are you?”

   “Draco Malfoy. We need to change since we’ll likely arrive soon, so leave already,” Draco orders.

   “Draco.” Harry shakes his head at him, then looks back at Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. “I’ll keep an eye out for the toad, but we haven’t seen ‘em.”

   “All right, thank you.” She starts to close the door, telling Neville, “Come on, let’s ask them down there.”

   “Longbottom’s family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” Draco says after they’ve left. “Granger, on the other hand, is probably Muggle-born . They really shouldn’t be letting any of them into Hogwarts, I think. Keep it in the old wizarding families.”

   “What?” Harry challenges. “Why does it matter?”

   Draco stares at him for a moment like he can’t believe he’s asking. “They’re just not the same! They’re not brought up to know our ways or anything.”

   “Neither have I,” Harry points out, then reminds his friend, “And my parents might have been a witch and wizard, but my mum was a Muggle-born. If she hadn’t been accepted at Hogwarts, my parents wouldn’t have met and I wouldn’t be here.”

   Draco is about to say something more to defend his point, but he closes his mouth with an audible click at this reminder. He wants to push back, make Harry understand why Muggle-borns just aren’t the same, but he can’t think of how to do so without sounding like he’s insulting Harry’s mother. If Harry got annoyed with Ron for seeming to insult Draco, a friend he’s only just made, chances are insulting his mum is a surefire way to make him angry.

   They change without exchanging another word, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Harry, wondering how he can get his friend to understand why his way of thinking is wrong. Draco, trying to think of a way to get through to Harry that pureblood witches and wizards are superior. It’s an awkward silence, and when they’ve finished changing, neither seems sure of what to say or how to change the subject. Finally, at a voice announcing they’re about to arrive and are to leave their luggage on the train, they decide to divvy up the remaining snacks and stuff them into their pockets.

   When the train stops, they shuffle out into the corridor and make their way onto the platform outside. The night is cooler here, farther up in the north, and Harry hopes they aren’t going to be outside for long. It’s with relief that he recognizes the booming voice calling for first years. When Hagrid spots him and greets him, Harry’s mood is instantly lifted.

   Draco is standing next to him still, and by the way he’s looking around Harry thinks he might be trying to find his other friends. He wonders if their brief friendship is due to be over already. Still, Harry nudges him and nods his head towards Hagrid and the lamp he’s holding as he calls the first years over before heading over. He doesn’t want Draco to think he doesn’t want to be friends anymore, but he also doesn’t know if now that he’s been reminded that Harry’s parentage isn’t as “pure” as his own, if he’ll want to stay friends. All he can do is act like he normally would and leave Draco to make his own choice.

   Hagrid leads them all down through a slippery dark path down to the edge of a large lake where they all get a glimpse of the castle for the first time. He gives them all a moment before announcing they’re to get into boats, keeping to 4 per boat, and he waves Harry over clearly to join him. When he reaches Hagrid, he’s holding up a toad he’s just found. Neville Longbottom cries out the toad’s name, rushing forward to claim the animal, and Hermione Granger comes following after him at a slower pace. It’s clear they’re going to also join Hagrid’s boat, and so Harry assumes even if he’d been inclined to join, chances are Draco will take one look at who else is there and opt to sit with his friends instead.

   It seems all the more certain when after getting in the boat, Harry spots Ron Weasley making a beeline for their boat to claim the last spot.

   So he’s surprised when Draco materializes in front of him, climbing in and muttering, “Mark my words, Potter. Longbottom is going to let that toad go and knock us all in the water trying to catch him.”

   “Hope you know how to swim then, Malfoy,” Harry answers with a grin.

   Then they’re off across the lake, making their way towards the glittering castle on the other side.

Story Notes:

Title is from a Pink Floyd song.

[coffeefairy]

Writer’s Month August 2020 - Day 9

Day eight of the challenge, still late, because I am a still a helpless procrastinator

Day 9, Prompt: Illness

Fandom: Star Trek: Voyager

Ship: Tom/Harry

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Tom visits Harry in Sick Bay when he has a cold. Harry has some pretty interesting things to say under the influence of a high fever and Tom decides visiting hours should be extended.

Excerpt:

Even after seeing Harry every day for the last three years, it still chased a thrill through him when he entered his field of vision. It always had, from the first time he’d seen him, at a bar on Deep Space 9. He’d looked younger then, shiny and untouched like his brand new comm badge. Dark hair, dark eyes, wide shoulders and handsome features had ensured he’d had Tom’s attention from the moment he entered the bar. It had felt like everything inside him had stood to attention, listening and waiting with bated breath. A creature in his chest had tilted his head, scented the air in trepidation. Something was changing.

Tags: love confessions, terrible title, because I am on a roll with those

Cold Calling

Tom Paris strolled into the MedBay, a box under his arm and a PADD in his hand. 

“Mr Paris? You’re not on shift again until tomorrow,” the EMH stated, looking up from his conn. “I will assume, based on previous experience, you are not here to volunteer extra hours.”

“‘Fraid not, Doc. I’m just here to cheer Harry up.”

“Mr Paris, visiting hours are over, as you are well aware. Please return between the hours of-”

“I misspoke. I’m here to volunteer. I am volunteering to keep Ensign Kim company.”

The Doctor looked as if he might argue but just sighed instead. “Very well. I am retiring for the night. Turn down the lights when you leave. Computer, deactivate the EMH.”

He blinked out of view. Tom grinned, the Doctor as always amusing him at the times he wasn’t driving him up the wall. With a shake of his head, he steered for the bio beds to the right. Harry was out of the examination one, recuperating alone. Luckily Tom’s “volunteering” would only include passing the time with his friend, no other patients occupying the other beds.

Harry looked uneasy, even in sleep, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. He was pale and a small frown came and went like clouds over his brow. Tom wished this would take away from his normal reaction but it was just as always upon seeing Harry. Faster heartbeat, a quick drop of his stomach, like he’d just hit 0G, a tickle in his throat like a laugh that had gotten caught. You’d think he’d be used to it by now, but no. Even after seeing Harry every day for the last three years, it still chased a thrill through him when he entered his field of vision. 

It always had, from the first time he’d seen him, at a bar on Deep Space 9. He’d looked younger then, shiny and untouched like his brand new comm badge. Dark hair, dark eyes, wide shoulders and handsome features had ensured he’d had Tom’s attention from the moment he entered the bar. It had felt like everything inside him had stood to attention, listening and waiting with bated breath. A creature in his chest had tilted his head, scented the air in trepidation. Something was changing. 

He hadn’t known it then but it hadn’t just been something, it had been everything. Harry had changed everything Tom had thought to be true. About Starfleet, about its officers, about life, about people in general. He didn’t relish thinking about where he’d be right now if it hadn’t been for Voyager but more importantly, who he’d be now if it weren’t for Harry. 

Tearing his eyes from the familiar face, he plopped down on a chair next to the bio bed. Kicking his feet up, he settled with his PADD. Every once in a while he’d look up, let his gaze travel over Harry’s face, listen for his breath. Once or twice he got up to raise the bed slightly, to adjust the blanket, to give him a hypo for breathing easier. 

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he arrived when Harry stirred but the lights in the Sick Bay had dimmed themselves according to the ship’s internal time. 

On the bed, the Ensign moved, sighed. Blinking, he looked around groggily. Dark gaze landing on Tom, he got to his feet.

“Tom?” he croaked.

“Hey, Har. How’re you feeling?”

“Like I was put through the recycler. What time is it?” His voice sounded like it had been sanded down to its bare components.

“After midnight. Want some water?”

Harry nodded and Tom got a glass from the pitcher. Sliding his hand under Harry’s neck to help him he tilted the glass. Harry managed a few small sips. 

“What...what are you doing here so late? You’re on shift tomorrow.”

“Thought I’d check in. I brought you something but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Tom, you shouldn’t-” Whatever the admonishment was going to be was cut off as Harry started coughing.

“I’m old enough to decide my own bed time, thanks.” He reached behind him for the box he’d brought. “Here you are.”

Harry blinked the tears from coughing out of his eyes and eyed the box. “Nothing’s going to jump out of there, right? Or make a noise or something?”

“It’s not a joke box, I promise. Geez, you scare a guy once.”

“Twice.” But Harry pulled the box close, opening it gently. Inside were a cylindrical container, and a bag of something.

“Hot honey water with ginger and a side of cough drops. Grandmother Paris’ cold treatment.”

“Grandmother Paris, huh?” Harry looked up with a smile. It made Tom’s heart trip and miss a beat. 

“Can’t argue with it.”

Obligingly, Harry twisted the top of the bottle and drank. “It tastes nice. For medicine.”

“It’s no hypospray but sometimes old tricks are the best.”

“Thanks. You know you really don’t have to stay, Tom. I’m probably just going to go back to sleep in a minute.”

“I’ll just stick around and make sure the medicine is working. Besides, I brought a book on my PADD I think you’ll really enjoy.”

“I shudder to think what you’ve brought, Paris.”

Tom grinned and sank back down on the chair. “Oh, it’s a classic. “Desert Passion” by Lavinia DeLautre.”

“Tom…” 

“No, no, don’t thank me yet. Now, be quiet. Chapter one. The day was hot. The sweltering heat made Amelia’s light, gauzy dress stick to her, almost transparent in places. She could tell from the darkened gazes directed at her the men of the village were transfixed by her unveiled beauty. She straightened her proud posture and ignored them, her heart beating hard in her well-endowed chest. Not bad, huh? Those twentieth century authors knew what they were on about.”

“I will pay you to stop reading it right now.”

“It’s an antique! A literary classic, published in 1993, Harry. 1993.”

“A week’s rations if you shut up.”

“No way. I flicked through it earlier and there are quivering loins and grabbing of sweat-dewed flesh coming up. Can’t live with the suspense.”

“Two weeks.”

“Amelia knew her father had come this way two weeks ago but her search so far had come up with nothing. She was a stranger in a strange land and…”

Tom read, enjoying the poor writing, the ludicrous metaphors and the far-fetched plot. He enjoyed Harry’s exclamations of disgust and chuckles more. After chapter four, Harry fell asleep again and settling into the chair, Tom put the PADD down. Trying to settle as well as he could, he felt the sleep edge in.

He had no idea what the time was when a noise woke him. 

“Tom!”

Sitting straight up, he turned to Harry who was tangled in the blanket, his hair plastered to his forehead. 

“I’m here, Harry, what is it? Do you want some water?”

“Tom…”

Getting to his feet to lean over the younger man in the half-light, he saw Harry’s eyes were hazy.

“What do you need?”

A giggle escaped Harry and Tom frowned. He’d never heard Harry giggle.

“You.”

“I’m right here, Har.”

“No, closer. I always want you closer,” he sighed.

Heat chased down Tom’s spine and his throat grew as dry as the sand in Amelia’s non-geographically-existent desert.

“Ah…”

“But I like this. This is good.” Harry’s hands travelled from Tom’s hands where they rested on the bed, up his arms, his shoulders to cradle his face.

“Harry?”

Harry didn’t seem entirely aware Tom was speaking. He was mumbling, voice a murmur. “So pretty.” His voice cleared a bit. “You’re always so pretty. I could stare at you all day and not get tired of it.”

His fingers wound in Tom’s hair and his brain cells all mutineed at once.

“I…”

“When I don’t see you, I miss your face. I miss the rest of you too.”

“Harry, what...what is this? Are you making fun of me?”

“You’re funny.” He laughed. “Always so funny. You make me laugh even when I don’t think I want to. I love that.”

He sighed lightly. “I love you.”

Tom froze in place, everything inside him lighting up and burning. The words he’d longed so long to hear were falling out of Harry like water, a current sweeping him along, pulling him under. 

Below him, Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, the hold on his hair tightening as Harry leaned up, lips searching. Helpless to move even if he’d wanted to, he could only watch it happen as if in a dream. When Harry’s lips met his, the emotions crashing through him was the current cresting. Like a towering wave it razed everything from around it, suspending it weightlessly, before racing down, the weight of the moment splintering under its own momentum. It roared in his ears, swept his feet out from under him, pulled the breath from his lungs. 

Then reality picked up again, the light graze of lips against his returning him to the present. He pulled back, disappointment freezing the heat that had been there and instant ago. 

“Harry, you’re burning up.”

Moving around the bed he found the chart, checked the last time the Doctor had administered anything. Long enough ago he could have another dose. 

Harry fell back on the bed, grumbling under his breath. 

Tom loaded the spray with shaking hands. Taking a steadying breath, he administered it. Putting a hand to Harry’s forehead, he felt some of the heat slowly fade. The fever was breaking.

Sitting down again, he sighed, rubbed his face. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry spoke from the bed. 

“It’s okay, Harry. You didn’t know what you were saying.”

It was quiet for a moment. “I did. I mean, I didn’t mean to say it, but I knew what I was saying.”

Shock left him silent as he turned his wide eyes on Harry. He was sitting in the bed, pulling at the blanket, staring down at his lap. “I didn’t want you to find out, and especially not this way. I’m sorry.”

“You...you meant it?”

“It doesn’t have to make anything weird! We can just...pretend it didn’t happen.”

The laughter was sudden and surprising as he got to his feet. “Oh, I don’t think so. Harry, I love you too.” “I...You...You do?”

“More than Amelia loves the Sheik,” Tom smiled. 

Harry laughed, and quickly it turned into a cough.

Leaning down, Harry turned away. “Don’t, you’ll get sick.”

Tom turned his face by his jaw. “You know, I really, really don’t care right now. I’d take worse than a cold to kiss you, Harry Kim.”

o.O.o

The EMH returned to duty at eight am sharp. The first thing he saw was that Mr Paris and Mr Kim were in the same bio bed, squeezed in like sardines in a box. The next was that the display over their heads - smart enough to recognise two bodies - showed both occupants were running light fevers.

“Really. There is a reason we have visiting hours.”

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

Better Living Through Surgery: Life with Less Cancer!

[Originally posted August 13, 2020]

Hello from Penn Hospital!

Not to worry - I haven't been here the entire time since my last post, although I did end up spending an entire week in the hospital. Right now I'm sitting in the outdoor section of the cafeteria, which might be a mistake given that I'm not allowed to eat anything until after my CT scans at 1pm. The CT scans are part of my preparing to resume treatment for the rest of the cancer that's still in my body. The last time I had chemo was June 23rd and I've now hit the sweet spot of being a month past my mastectomy (so, mostly recovered) and out of other treatment long enough that I'm not suffering side effects any longer. It feels...almost like I don't have cancer at all.

Two Surgeries for the Price of...Two!

Let me back up a bit to the surgery though. I'd like to report that everything went totally smoothly...and it sort of did! Except that I had to have two surgeries because it also sort of didn't. As usual, what happened to me was super rare (less than 1% of cases!) and I would like to submit a formal retraction of any wishes I had to be exceptional. I've read "The Monkey's Paw." I know to be careful what I wish for. (Although, actually, I'm lying because I still plan to be the exception to the median life expectancy of those with my particular type and stage of cancer. If I have to be in the 1% of cancer cases it ought to be a good thing at least once.)

I had two surgeons for the two parts of my first surgery: one for the mastectomy (removing that incredibly stubborn initial tumor) and one for a "flap reconstruction," which used my own tissue (from my stomach - free tummy tuck!) to build a replacement. When they do that second part, they also take a blood supply so that a substantial part of it is vascular surgery. The reason that the reconstruction ever fails is if something goes wrong with the blood supply. If that happens, it's nearly always (99% of the time!) within 24 hours. What happened in my case was that everything went well with the surgery, even though it took about 7 hours, and I was recovering well and quickly. I was set to go home after my third night in the hospital (so, on Thursday).

Overnight on Wednesday, however, something went wrong with the blood supply. The new tissue was filling but not draining. What they later learned, once they rushed me back into the OR, was that the vein in it had a blood clot. They were able to fix it by taking a vein from my ankle to replace it. So basically that reset the clock on my recovery so that I ended up having to stay an additional three nights, going home on Sunday. (My initial surgery had been on a Monday.) It's actually extremely lucky that I was still in the hospital, despite how sad I was at having to stay. If I had been at home, far away from experts and surgeons, the tissue probably would have died and the reconstruction would have failed. It was a close thing since I was set to go home.

Anyone who has ever been in a hospital doesn't need a reminder of how, despite everyone's best intentions it is pretty terrible. I hadn't spent a night in the hospital since I was a newborn, despite all my various treatments, so I didn't know. Now I do and I never want to go back. The hardest part is that they have to wake you up almost constantly for vitals and to assess how the blood supply is doing (listening for arterial and venus sounds). For the first day after each surgery this was every 30 MINUTES, then every HOUR, then finally (on my final night) every 2 hours. And I'm the kind of person who's AWAKE as soon as I wake up. So I essentially didn't sleep more than an hour at a time until the bitter end when a nice nurse got a nice doctor to give me some kind of sedative so that I was able to sleep through the checks. I don't have a kid, so let me just say that this level of sleep deprivation was like nothing I had ever experienced. I see why the CIA used it as a form of torture. I'm a veteran of being tired and of many different kinds of fatigue but never have I been unable to get into REM sleep for so long. I am eager to avoid it at all costs again.

I had been more worried about the boredom than the lack of rest (because, at least on paper, the hospital seems like a place where you would mostly be resting/recovering) and it was indeed very boring. I was SO tired that I wasn't able to really do anything like read a novel, knit, or even really watch TV. I did binge a few podcasts, return to some more "Buffy," and attempt to chat to my parents when they could be there. The COVID visitor policy made it even more isolating and lonely than it would usually be. I was only allowed one "designated visitor" per day so my mom and dad switched off on who that was. Visitors could only be in the room and, once you left, you were gone for the day. So, for example, it's not like my mom could say hi in the morning, pop out and get us lunch, and then come back. All visiting was consolidated for the day. That meant that I tried valiantly to be good company for a few hours, but I imagine mostly I was too exhausted to accomplish that.

I took laps around the hallway (in my mask), which was actually a big achievement especially given the four surgical drains that I had (and left the hospital with). It's amazing how quickly you can lose conditioning in your muscles...and also how exhausting it is for your body to have been, essentially, assaulted and be dealing with wounds. That said, I've been super impressed by my body's healing capacity. I got the drains out within a week for one set and 10 days for another. After that, it was much easier to feel like I was healing and returning to normal. I'll have to rebuild my abdominal muscles, since that part of the surgery involved cutting them (and a new hip-to-hip "smile" scar), and for now I still can't bend all the way over, stand up totally straight (did I ever?), or lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk (because of the reconstruction). I'll probably need some physical therapy, but the ability my body has shown to heal is incredible.

Also incredible is the difference it has made to my mood and anxiety. In the hospital, they kept asking me for my pain number (which is kind of a useless exercise anyway, in my opinion) and I kept sort of shrugging and saying "2? 3?" to their disbelief. After all, I had open wounds! I had two major surgeries! But the pain of the tumor itself (and especially of the fluid-filled cyst on top of it) had been constant, increasing, and worrying. The pain of the tumor had meant my treatment was failing me and that my cancer was getting worse. The pain of the surgery meant I was healing so I embraced it. I still get tired more easily than I expect and am sure that the recovery period for this is going to turn out to be longer than I anticipate. But it is a huge relief.

That Bastard Tumor

Now, sadly, they don't actually save your cancerous tumor for you to look at after the surgery. (Honestly sad about this. I wanted to look it in the eye!) But they did send it off to a pathologist. The results made me feel very vindicated in my persistent sense that something about this bastard of a tumor was just DIFFERENT (and worse). They found that it had areas in it that were metaplastic, meaning (essentially) that the cells are hybrid, aggressive, and chemo-resistant. Here's what Johns Hopkins has to say about it:

"Metaplastic breast cancer is a rare form of breast cancer, accounting for fewer than 1% of all breast cancers.  It differs from the more common kinds of breast cancer in both its makeup and in the way it behaves.

Like invasive ductal cancer, metaplastic breast cancer begins in the milk duct of the breast before spreading to the tissue around the duct.  What makes a metaplastic tumor different is the kinds of cells that make up the tumor.

When the cells of an invasive ductal tumor are examined under a microscope, they appear abnormal, but still look like ductal cells.  Metaplastic tumors may contain some of these breast cells, too, but they also contain cells that look like the soft tissue and connective tissue in the breast.  It is thought that the ductal cells have undergone a change in form (metaplasia) to become completely different cells, though it is not known exactly how or why this occurs.

Metaplastic breast cancers can also behave more aggressively than other kinds of breast cancers.

Metaplastic tumors are often, though not always, “triple-negative”, which means that they test negative for estrogen and progesterone receptors, as well as for the HER2/neu protein.

Metaplastic tumor cells are often found to be high grade, which means that they look very different from normal cells and are dividing rapidly.  

Metaplastic tumors are, on average, larger at diagnosis.

More often than in other kinds of breast cancer, women with metaplastic breast cancer can have metastasis (when the cancer has spread beyond the breast) and may be more likely to recur (come back later in another part of the body)."

Sounds familiar, right? I can tell you, it feels good to get that out of my body! I want to be clear, though, that it was only **some** of the tumor that was this nasty metaplastic cancer. It was, as I described it to the amusement of my surgeon, "like chocolate chips in ice cream." (Way less fun than chocolate chips, obviously.)

That is actually good news too, because it means that there's a pretty high chance that the metastatic sites are NOT this nasty form of cancer. It wasn't noted in the original biopsy back in January 2019, nor in the spinal tumor biopsy in Feburary 2019, nor in my biopsy from July 2019. Metaplastic cells are fairly distinctive so they would have been noted if they were there. At some point, metaplastic regions appeared in the bastard tumor, probably a reason that it stopped responding to treatments that worked elsewhere (including PARP inhibitors and the chemo/immuno combo that I'm currently on). If those treatments, or others, can work on the remaining sites that are NOT metaplastic it becomes much more possible to imagine living with this as a chronic disease. We won't be able to tell until I get today's scans and we see how the next 8ish weeks of treatment go. But still, I think cautious optimism is warranted.

Resting and Recovering

My parents were able to stay with me for another 10 days after I went home and it was so wonderful to have them taking care of me. It made me realize that, actually, I have done the bulk of this cancer treatment without that particular kind of support. I mean, I knew that intellectually, but the difference between having someone looking after me and not was something I almost couldn't fathom on an emotional level. They lived with me for the first 3 months after my diagnosis in 2019 but--thanks to how long was spent getting various tests and seeing doctors--that only included a few weeks of chemo. They would obviously have stayed longer--would be glad to drop everything and rush out whenever I want!--but it's been my choice to continue as much as I can with my "regular" adult life. Being forced not to try was actually quite a favor to me. I'm left with a lot of thoughts about how I ask for help, offer it, accept it (or don't), and how I feel about it. I'll save those for another time, though, and just thank both my parents and my wonderful and tireless group of friends for giving me their support in whatever ways they can.

It's almost time for me to go drink some delicious barium and get a CT (bringing me a couple steps closer to lunch), so I'll just conclude by saying that I felt so good post-surgery that I forgot, for a while, that I still had cancer at all. After all, it was that tumor that I could actually see and feel and that was causing me daily pain and anxiety. Taking it away felt like taking away all the cancer. But, of course, it's still there: in my lungs, my lymph nodes, my bones, and my liver. It's a systemic and chronic disease, but I do at least feel more like I've been given a fighting chance again.

Hope you're all doing as well as can be right now. Be well and be kind.

Love, Bex