#bows and he only bought it because he knows she’ll find it ridiculous and Laugh(!!!!!) then he’ll happily wear it

[swordmaid]

also (im still thinking abt the post canon jb au from the prev post) I really like the concept of jaime thriving post war. like he’s happier because he’s alive! and brienne is here with him! and brienne (bc I think she likes to watch him) would notice that he laughs and smiles more freely, that there’s no cutting edge to his smiles or japes and he’s generally more relaxed and laid back. brienne also noticing jaime getting more wrinkles around the eyes and mouth bc he’s smiling more, and his hair is starting to gray around the temples but it only makes him more attractive to her For Some Reason. she’s not gonna delve into why she thinks that’s attractive by the by, jaime is generally regarded as ‘Hot’ by the entire realm so she IS allowed to think he’s attractive too. and she is Allowed to like his secret soft smile that he gives her time to time, and the fact that she always feel nervous after but in a good way does not mean anything either. by the way. she’s allowed to think he’s hot too…!

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Sweet Pea//my greatest adventure is you

Request: Can you do a dad (newborn-ish) sweet pea imagine

hey! title is kind of stolen from a quote i saw on pinterest and part from my own brain so its okay! how are you all? i hope you’re good! i also hope you like this! its cute and sweet and just very nice! byeeee 

Two weeks ago your life changed completely. 

And for two weeks you and Sweet Pea have been living in a post baby, sleep deprived, bliss. 

Days of the week have long been forgotten, neither of you know the time. It’s either light or dark and that’s good enough for you. Both of you have only been outside a handful of times and they’re only for two hours at the most. 

You’ve worn nothing but pyjama’s, washed your hair enough times to count on just one hand and smell like baby puke and milk. 

But it’s perfect. 

Everything and everyone revolves around the perfect bundle of joy that you’ve brought into the world, and that is how it was supposed to be. You’ve had visitors from just about everybody you know. 

Family, friends, neighbours, as well as their family and friend. You’ve had everyone wanting to come and see your daughter, all of which bring toys, clothes, keepsakes, balloons, flowers and everything in-between. 

Which is of course lovely and very helpful. Especially when you’re dealing with the fullest nappy and think you’ve run out of wipes but Sweet Pea finds three packs of them under a pile of clothes that are yet to be worn. 

Plus, they also bring you presents to which you definitely aren’t complaining about. You’ve got so many pairs of pajama’s you’re not gonna need any for years. 

But it also brings problems. 

Because you and Sweet Pea may have read every baby/parenting book, blog and magazine known to man. But what they don’t prepare you for is how you’re supposed to fit everything into a tiny two bedroom house. 

“How does a tiny baby need all of this equipment?” You ask, staring at the black hole of boxes that is your living room. Even sat on the couch there’s boxes and bags stacked around you and the two of you honestly have no idea where to start. “I mean, what the hell even is this?” You add, picking up some sort of weird looking piece of plastic. 

Sweet Pea looks at it, a frown on his face before it lights up and he searches through some papers on the small table beside him. He holds a booklet up, a triumphant smile stretching across his lips before he starts reading. 

The smile slowly starts to fade the more he reads to himself and you sit in silence, an eyebrow raised while you wait for him to tell you. 

“Oo, erm. Apparently it tells you why the baby is crying.” He says, looking between you and the what you now realize is the instructions. 

The only way you can describe his expression is puzzled, as he takes the baby crying machine from you, placing it beside the instructions and just staring at the two. 

“Who the hell bought this?” He asks, resting his chin in his hands. You run your fingers through his hair, trying to calm the curls down a little and he lets out a content sigh, giving you a tired smile as he does so. 

You mirror it and nudge his leg with your own. You lean your head on his shoulder, and he places his head on top. The two of you look over the paper and plastic again, reading and re-reading the instructions as it takes a while to actually understand what they are trying to say. Its seems both you and Sweet Pea have ended up developing baby-brain.

“I think it was your Auntie Agnes.” 

“Of course it was.” He chuckles and kisses the top of your head.

“What are the options?” You ask. 

“Hungry, tired, changing, attention, stressed.” He says and you send him a look. 

“Stressed? What an earth could a baby be stressed about? They don’t pay taxes, they don’t have to work.” You reply grumpily making him laugh and kiss you again.

“Technically we don’t have to pay taxes.” 

“Technically we do if we don’t want to go to jail.” You reply. 

“Who says I’d get caught.” He replies proudly. 

“Me.” You reply bluntly and he stares at you offended. 

“Rude.” 

“True though.” You tease and grab the strange device from him, looking it over a few times before looking back at him. “So, where’s this going?” 

“Back of the cupboard normally. Proudly on display when Auntie Agnes actually comes to visit?” 

“Deal.” You agree. “I’ll find a place for it and you start on that box there.” 

“Which one?” 

“The huge red one right in front of your face.” You huff and he flips you off. 

You send him a sarcastic smile in return before disappearing into the kitchen to find a space for the stupid bit of plastic. 

“Why this one specifically?” He calls after you. 

“Its from Toni and Cheryl and I’m excited to see what ridiculous things Cheryl has spent a fuck-ton of money on.” You reply, your voice giddy but muffled by the cupboard you’ve currently got your head in. 

Sweet Pea shakes his head, a small giggle escaping his lips as he listens to you excitedly ramble about what it could be. 

He pulls on the end of the bow and it falls off the wooden box and onto the carpeted floor. A bemused smile takes over his appearance as he carefully picks the lid up and places it beside him.

“Holy shit.” His eyes widen. “Y/n? Y/n get in here!” 

“Wha-ow! Shit.” 

“Did you hit your head?” He asks, sending you a sympathetic smile when he notices you standing in the doorway, rubbing your head.

 “Yeah.” You nod and flop down beside him again. “So, what is it?” You ask excitedly. 

“You’re not going to believe it.” He replies and moves further towards the box. You follow him until your sat on the edge of the sofa and your eyes widen when you look at what it is. 

“Is that?” You ask, looking at him and then back at the present. 

“Yep.” 

Staring back at the two of you is a giant rocking horse. Like it’s massive, like Toni could definitely fit on it and it would look normal, massive even. Hanging around its neck is what looks like a diamond encrusted dummy and you and Sweet Pea just stare at each other in disbelief. 

A red, handwritten card sits on top of it and you grab it, turning it around and reading aloud. 

‘Y/n and Sweet Pea, 

Congratulations on your new arrival! We can’t wait to meet her properly. You’re going to be amazing parents, and we’re always here if you need us. Hopefully we’ll be able to organize a play date between her and JJ soon, but until then enjoy new parenthood. 

Love Cheryl, Toni and JJ.

ps: I told Cheryl you didn’t need a giant horse or diamond encrusted dummy or the other 5, very expensive gifts that are currently being shipped from Italy, but she didn’t listen, so sorry in advance. And again, congratulations!! We’re so proud of both of you!!’

“Another 5 gifts from Italy?” Sweet Pea repeats.

“Another 5, expensive gifts from Italy.” You correct. 

“They have far too much money for their own good.” 

“God knows where this is going to go.” You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips as you tuck the card back into the box and place the lid back on top. “Which one should we do ne-” Your interrupted by a small cry and the two of you stop what you’re doing to listen, waiting to see if she’ll settle back down. The crying only grows louder and you and Pea share a look. 

“I’ll get her.” He says and you expression softens. 

“You sure?” You ask.

“Yeah.” He replies, fighting his way through the boxes and bags trapping the two of you. “I just googled how much that rocking horse is so I’m gonna go cry with her.” He says making you laugh. “You keep going down here.” 

“Wait, how did that happen? You get to cuddle a cute baby and I have to figure out where to put bottles and diapers and...horses?” 

“Unlucky.” He shrugs and gives you a sarcastic smile before running up the stairs. 

Two minutes later and she’s stopped crying. A relieved smile takes over your face as you fold what seems like the millionth baby grow. But twenty minutes after that, Sweet Pea hasn’t come back down yet, and that makes you suspicious. 

Because he’s either fallen asleep, or he’s just pretending to still be busy so he doesn’t have to help with this. If he’s asleep, you’re joining him, whether he’s on the bed or under it, you don’t care. But if not, you bet his ass you are dragging him back down the stairs.

You slowly make your way up the stairs, balancing a few pieces of clothing in your hands to put away. The door to your bedroom is cracked open slightly and instead of going straight into the nursery, you hold back and watch as Sweet Pea rocks her gently. 

His back is to you so he hasn’t noticed your presence, and he’s pulling the funniest faces at her, the sight making your heart melt. Your entire universe in one room, within two people, one tall and the other tiny. 

It makes all the chaos worth it. 

“There once was a shoe, who’s best friend was a lace.” Sweet Pea starts, balancing a baby book in his hands as he keeps tight hold of your daughter. “They went everywhere together. But one day, the shoe stepped in a puddle and the lace got dirty so-what kind of story is this?” He complains, shaking his head as he puts it down. 

“Okay, Daisy. I’ve got a much better story to tell you anyway.” He whispers into the dark room and carefully sits down in the rocking chair. “So, me and your mom have known each other for so long. Longer than you can even comprehend, not that you can comprehend much at the minute. But one day when your bigger you’ll understand. We’ve known each other since we were younger than you, thats right, we were best friends before we were born. And there hasn’t been a day that she hasn’t been around. And they’ll never be a day where she isn’t here for you either. Both of us are always going to be here.” He says, his voice gentle. 

His tone is full of so much love that it makes you tear up...stupid hormones. You can’t wait to spend the rest of your life loving your little family, and you’re so happy that its Sweet Pea that you’re doing it with. You can’t imagine a life without him, you never want to. 

“You have your entire life ahead of you and we’re going to make sure you live the best one you can. Because you can do anything. There’s a whole world of possibilities out there. Sometimes it feels like there isn’t, but you’ve only been here two weeks and you’ve brought so much wonder and magic to mine and your mom’s world, so who knows what you’re going to do to the rest of it.” He continues and you hug the clothes your holding tighter to your chest, despite the fact that you’re crying all over them. 

“We’re going to love you no matter what. No matter who you are or who you love or what you do. As long as you’re safe and happy, thats good enough for us.” He says, a sweet smile on his lips as he stares down at her in awe. “Now, go to sleep and have the sweetest dreams you can think of and when you wake up, your mom and me will both be here for you. Thats a promise.” He whispers, pressing a soft kiss to her head before placing her gently back in her crib. 

You take that as you cue to walk in, avoiding the creaky floorboard that you and Sweet Pea have already memorized the position of. He hears the door open and his smile grows when he notices you. You return it, your eyes tired and your hair messy and your clothes the same as they were two days ago. But to him you look the most beautiful you ever have. 

He has never loved anyone more, well, apart from Daisy. But you’re the reason she’s here and he’s never ever going to be able to thank you enough for that. 

You quietly place the pile of clothes on top of the drawers, vowing to put them away tomorrow. Them, the presents downstairs and the the rest of the world can wait, you want to enjoy this for as long as you can. 

Sweet Pea grabs your hand and pulls you gently towards him. The two of you lean over the crib, watching Daisy sleep peacefully. His hands rest gently on your shoulders and you give them a squeeze, your fingers intertwining.

“Do you think babies can dream?” You wonder, looking up at Pea.

“I really do hope so.” 

[haveanotherkpopblog]

Painted Stories

The Shrew and the Bunny

Pairing: Kim Dahyun x You

Genre: Angst, Historical!AU, Horror, Yandere!AU

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Death, animal cruelty and murder, stalker themes

Masterlist

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful you woman. She was so beautiful, that everyone who saw her immediately fell in love with her. This upset her a great deal. Not because people thought she was beautiful, but because that’s all people noticed about her. Suitors from near and far came to win her heart and hand, but were all rejected when they would only talk about her beauty.

While she refused to marry someone who only loved her looks, she was still lonely. To compensate for the lack of true love in he life, she bought a bunny. It wasn’t a pretty bunny. It had been abused for quite sometime and yet the woman thought it was the most perfect bunny. She loved the bunny like how she wished she would be loved.

Years went by and still, no one could when the woman’s heart. Her beauty never faded, but her kindness for the world did. She became ill-tempered and soon refused any suitors, whether they thought she was pretty or not.

While most of the town’s people had grown to fear and loathe the Shrew, one girl still loved her very much. Kim Dahyun had loved Y/N L/N since they were children. Of course she didn’t understand it back then, Dahyun never got over her childhood crush. While Y/N was a handful and hated public interactions, she was tolerable with Dahyun. Everyday Dahyun is happy she and Y/N had been childhood friends.

Though she loved her friend dearly, Dahyun was too afraid to voice her feelings out loud. More than once she’d seen how angry Y/N became when someone would start proclaiming their undying love for her. It never ended well for anyone involved.

Just earlier today, a man who had her of Y/N’s legendary beauty had come to see for himself. When he stood outside her door, calling for her, she opened the door and began beating him repeatedly in the torso with a shoe. Because as any mother will tell you, shoes don’t leave bruises.

“I’m sorry for the interruption,” Y/N said once she sat back down. Dahyun sipped her tea silently, gazing out the window at the man limping away and clutching his sides.

“Not at all,” Dahyun said, turning back to face Y/N. “Well, here’s some good news. He’s only the third one in, what, a month? Much better than when there were five a day.” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Oh don’t remind me. Honestly, when will people learn that there’s more to me than my looks?” Dahyun set her cup down. Y/N’s bunny came hopping into the room, settling itself onto her lap. Y/N began dotting on the creature, making Dahyun glare.

“Well, I say don’t settle until you find someone who appreciates how smart you are, how resourceful and clever you are, how friendly you can be,” Dahyun added in a teasing voice. Y/N offered her a rare smile, and Dahyun felt her heart sore.

“If only everyone was like you Dahyun,” Y/N sighed. She glanced at the clock before sitting up straight. “Oh good gracious look at the time. You best hurry home before your mother has your head.” Dahyun nodded, giving her friend a tight hug before making her way to her own house.

All the while she dreamt of what her and Y/N’s life could be like. They could get married and move to an island. They could have three kids and a pet, maybe a dog or a cat. Just not that stupid bunny. While Dahyun loved Y/N, she hated her bunny. It was like a harsh slap to the face whenever she saw Y/N being so affectionate with it. It’s not like the thing could do much. It couldn’t hold conversations, or make her laugh, or love her like Dahyun could.

Dahyun brushed off her petty jealousy as she entered her house. Immediately she was filled with the smell of her mother’s cooking. She let out a content sigh, walking into the kitchen and sitting at the table. Her mother stood at the stove, stirring a pot with a wooden spoon.

“There you are. I thought I was going to have to send the dogs after you,” her mother said.

“I was just at Y/N’s house,” Dahyun told her. Her mother tisked.

“I don’t understand how you can spend so much time with that shrew.” Dahyun rolled her eyes. “She’s so nasty with everyone, especially men. She’ll never marry if she doesn’t stop her ridiculous behavior.”

“She’s not like that with me, and she’s not a shrew. She just doesn’t want to marry someone who only likes her for her looks. She wants someone who loves her for her, someone who sees her as more than a pretty face, someone--”

“Like you?” he mother interrupted. Dahyun stared at her with her mouth wide open. “It’s no secret sweetness. Everyone can see how you look at her. After all, you’re the only one she even talks to anymore.” Dahyun’s cheeks turned bright pink. “You know, if you like her so much, you should tell her. Like you said, she needs someone to love ‘her for her’. Who better than you?”

“You think so?” Dahyun asked. She had a goofy grin on her face. Her mother nodded.

That night, Dahyun went to sleep happier than she’d ever been. Her mother was right. Who could love Y/N better than her? No one, and she was going to win her heart. No matter what.

Roses were a cliché. Well, red roses were a cliché. White roses were a symbol of pure love. What flowers could be better than those representing pure love? Dahyun held a vase full of them as she made her way to Y/N’s house. She had everything all planned out. She would walk up to her house, she would knock on the door, and when Y/N answered the door, Dahyun would tell her how she really felt.

It was a real shame when, after Dahyun knocked on the door, she put the vase down and ran away. Her heart was pounding as she hid behind a tree. She placed a hand on her chest to magically calm down her breathing. Peeking from behind the tree, she caught a glimpse of Y/N looking around. She hid behind the tree again, leaning her head against the trunk. It wasn’t exactly going as she had planned, but it was better than nothing.

The next day, Dahyun prepared homemade chocolates. The delicacy wafted through the air, earning the attention of multiple people from the street. She had her mother buy a beautiful box and gold twine for the chocolate. Once the chocolate had cooled and hardened, Dahyun wrapped them up individually, placing them in the box carefully before using the twine to tie a pretty bow. She, once again, failed to stay to confess her love, but she saw Y/N pick the box up before she ran of giddy.

That night, she stayed up to pour her heart out into the most romantic letter ever written. Everything she thought about and felt about was written there on paper. The confession flowed out her like water from a waterfall after storm. She wrote and wrote until the early hours of morning.

When she had finished, a huge grin rested on her face. Swiftly she made herself presentable. She put on her favorite dress, did her hair nice, and even spritzed on her favorite perfume. She skipped down the stairs with a spring in her step. Her mother stood in the kitchen, humming a tune as she made breakfast.

“Good morning!” Dahyun called, dancing around the kitchen. Her mother let out a laugh, watching her daughter with a happy heart.

“Someone’s in a cheerful mood,” her mother commented. Dahyun nodded.

“I’m going to do it. Today is the day I go and tell Y/N how I feel. Well, let her read how I feel.” Her mother smiled fondly.

“I’m so proud of you dear. What you’re doing is very sweet and very brave. There’s no way she’d say no.” Dahyun hugged, her mom, thankful for her confidence. “Now go before you chicken out. Invite her over for dinner!” her mother called as she ran out the door.

The whole way down she was positively buzzing. Today was the day. After today, she didn’t have to hide her feelings anymore. People would stop avoiding her and suitors would stop chasing her. She and Dahyun could walk hand in hand instead of at a distance. So many cute domestic thoughts filled her head as she made her way to Y/N’s house.

How life would have been had Dahyun not looked at Y/N’s trash can. A familiar gold twine had caught her eye. There, right on top of the trash, was the box of chocolate she had worked so hard on, unopened. Under them were the roses she had hand picked for her. She stood frozen, her eyes trained on her disregarded tokens of affection. Her heart shattered in her chest. Did Y/N really not return her affection? They’d been friends for so long, had the feelings only been one-sided.

Dahyun refused to believe that. There was no possible way Y/N hadn’t developed feelings for her. The letter still clutched in her hand, Dahyun went back home. She brushed her mother’s questions off as she went to her room. She sat on her bed, her heart and mind racing a mile a minute. So the gifts didn’t work. All she had to do was find a way to impress Y/N in a way that she’ll accept. The only question is: how?

For the next few days, Dahyun followed a very specific schedule. She checked the mail every day to see if Y/N had sent a letter inviting her over. When no such letter was found, she made her way to the backwoods around Y/N’s house. Dressed in trousers and a loose shirt, she climbed up a tree that was close to Y/N’s house, but not so close that Y/N would see her. For days she would watch Y/N move around her house. She watched her clean and read and eat. She watched as she bathed and dressed herself and dotted on that damned bunny. Her eyes followed her movements carefully with every action she did.

Despite all this, she was no closer to an answer than she had been when she started her, ahem, observations. She sat at her desk, frustrated beyond belief. Her mother entered her room slowly, moving to sit on her bed.

“Sweetheart, you should really just talk to her. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for why she, ahem, didn’t keep the gifts. I’m sure she just thinks it’s from another silly guy who doesn’t know her. A good relationship is built on honesty and communication,” her mother told her.

As her mother stood up and left, she turned her words over in her head. Her mother was happily married, so surely she knew what she was talking about. With nothing else to do or go on, Dahyun heaved herself off her bed.

While she was walking to Y/N’s house, she came across a peddler with strange vials and jars. Against her better judgement, Dahyun stopped at the peddler’s cart. An old woman stared at her, her eyes dark and emotionless.

“I sense great turmoil in your heart,” she said. She rummaged around in the cart before producing a small vial with a glowing pink liquid in it. “I promise dearie, this will solve all your troubles.” She wrapped her long, slender fingers around Dahyun’s wrist, pushing the vial into the palm of her hand. “Take this, but be careful. Don’t let jealousy win the battle, because then you’ll lose the war.” Then the little old woman picked her cart and began to walk away, leaving Dahyun stunned.

She shoved the vial into her pocket, continuing on her way to Y/N’s. She stopped just outside the gate, anxiety weighing heavily on her heart. Her hand went to her pocket, pulling out the mysterious vial. The pink liquid swirled around, looking like something out of a fairytale. Taking a deep breath, she uncorked the bottle, brought it to her lips, and tipped her head back.

Whatever it was, it was awful. It smelled like turpentine and tasted like Indian ink. Dahyun threw the bottle away coughing as the thick liquid ran down her throat. No sooner had she recovered from that traumatic experience, Y/N burst out her front door, running to Dahyun.

“Dahyun! Please, help me!” she called. Dahyun opened the gate, meeting her halfway. Y/N was hyperventilating and there were tears brimming in her eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dahyun asked. She help Y/N steady her breathing enough for her to talk.

“It’s my bunny. She’s missing. She was by my side moments ago and I went to get a book and the next thing I knew she was gone. I saw the back window open and I think she got out,” Y/N explained, fanning herself.

“Hey, she probably is in the backwoods. She couldn’t have gone too far. I’ll help you look for her,” Dahyun said. Y/N threw her arms around Dahyun, pulling her into a hug and muttering out her gratitude. Dahyun relished in her touch, her heart speeding up in her chest.

They split up and headed off in separate directions. She wasn’t really trying to find that accursed bunny. After all, Y/N didn’t need it anymore. Dahyun was there for her. That bunny couldn’t care Y/N the way she could, it could comfort Y/N the way she could, it couldn’t love her the way she could. Dahyun wouldn’t feel bad if she never saw that blasted bunny again.

But luck was not on her side tonight. Like she had said, the bunny hadn’t gone far. It sat on the stump of a tree, watching Dahyun with its beady, black eyes. It didn’t move as Dahyun approached it. It simply stared at her, unblinking. A fit of jealousy roared in Dahyun’s heart.

She grabbed the bunny by its neck, her fist squeezing. Her eyes held the flames of hell, yet they were so cold and desolate. The bunny began to squirm in her grip, but she didn’t let go. She squeezed and squeezed until she heard a loud snap.

All at once her jealousy left her. She dropped the bunny, its limp body hitting the ground with a resounding thump. The weight of what she’d done began to weigh down on her as she stared at the dead bunny. She began pacing, her mind going over every scenario. Then the peddler’s words echoed through her head.

Picking up the small corpse, she ran out of the woods and back down the road to find the peddler. She was sitting on the road, a warm cup of tea in her hands. She glanced up at Dahyun, her eyebrows raised.

“I can save the bunny, but it will cost you,” the peddler said.

“I’ll pay any price,” Dahyun said breathlessly. A brief twinkle sparkled in the peddler’s eye.

“Everything comes with a price.” She handed Dahyun another vial. However, this one was a sickly green. Placing the bunny on the cart, she uncorked the vial and tipped it back. It tasted better than the pink vile, like sweet honey with extra sugar.

A sharp pain hit Dahyun in her chest. It was so bad she ended up passing out.

When she awoke, she was slightly disoriented. She wasn’t on the street where she had been before she passed out, but she definitely wasn’t in her room. In the distance she heard crying. She tried to stand but her legs felt weird. She tried to look down but found she couldn’t. Glancing around, she had to do a double take when she saw herself in the mirror. Her body wasn’t her own.

Instead of her body, she was a bunny. Not just any bunny though. She looked just like Y/N’s bunny. This had to be a dream. There was no way she was the bunny. Attempting to move, she began hopping as best she could. She stumbled along until she was in Y/N’s parlor. On the couch was Y/N and Dahyun’s mother. Both were in tears.

“It’s all my fault,” Y/N sniffled. “If I had never sent her out to find my bunny, she wouldn’t have broken her neck.” Who broke their neck?

“Oh my dear,” her mother sighed. “Dahyun would have done everything for you. She never had the chance to tell you, but she loved you.” Her mother pulled out the letter she had written just barely a week ago. “This is for you. I’m sure she’d want you to read it.” Y/N accepted the letter, immediately reading it. She began to cry more, burying her head in her hands.

“I wish I’d known sooner. I feel the same way. God, why did I have to be so stubborn?” Dahyun’s mom rubbed her back soothingly. “I miss her so much.”

“I do too,” her mother whispered. “But she’s in a better place. She died doing something for someone she loved.”

Dahyun stumbled to the room, trying to tell them she was still alive and stuck in a bunny’s body. But all that came out was annoying whines. Y/N picked Dahyun up setting her up on her lap. Y/N stroked Dahyun’s back, soothing her. She may not be able to love like she could have as a human, but now Y/N would love her. And only her.

[let-it-raines]

Based on the real life girl that lost her boyfriend at Epcot. Emma loses Killian at a theme part and tries calling him, but his phone is dead. So she's forced to turn to social media to find him, and a real life where's waldo comedy ensues!

So, anyone up for a new addition to Single Riders Won’t Stay Single? You totally don’t have to have read this ridiculous universe to understand this, but if you want to, the entire thing can be found | Here | or | Here | 

I hope you guys, enjoy! It was kind of fun to get back into the humor of this story! 

“Okay, so what are the rules, guys?” she asks as Killian drives them into the park. She knows that they’re not listening, that Declan and Hope are too hyped up on adrenaline for their first trip to Disney World after literal years (according to Declan as he so eloquently puts it every single time they talk about it) of anticipation. She’s not necessarily thrilled over the trip, personally partial to Universal herself, but as she’s learned, her kids don’t exactly care when or how mommy and daddy met. They literally only care about the fact that they’re going to Disney World, which is all Declan has talked about since his friend Jackson went over summer break last year and couldn’t stop talking about it. Seriously, the kid can work in Mickey Mouse in a conversation about politics. He’s eight. He’s not talking about politics. But he could still work it in. She’d bet good money on it.At least she as Ada to talk to about how she and Killian met. She’s two and can’t do anything about Emma blabbering to her, but that’s the beauty of having a toddler. The again, Ada definitely doesn’t care how she and Killian met, so maybe all she does have is Killian. But that’s okay with her. There’s no one else she’d rather talk about that story with, even if she does think it’s a story good enough to share with anyone with ears, Mickey Mouse or otherwise. Seriously, she could write a movie or something about parts of her life they’re so insane. Who the hell meets their husband because they’re standing in the single riders’ line for the Hulk rollercoaster? No one. Absolutely no one. It’s insane.

Maybe she should write the people at Marvel and ask them if she could be in one of their movies. That would probably make her kids pay attention to her. And, you know, it would probably mean she wouldn’t have to keep working as a bail bonds person. That’s not exactly a convenient job to have when you have three kids and your husband doesn’t work normal hours either. At least she can get away with doing research for others at work instead of having to go out into the field herself. There’s only so much she can do while balancing so many different aspects of her life.

They should have gone somewhere more relaxing for winter break. They should have gone somewhere and with just she and Killian, the kids staying behind with Mary Margaret. Maybe a beach. It definitely should have been a beach. And her phone could be thrown into the ocean or something. She doesn’t think Verizon covers you if you willingly throw your phone in the ocean. She didn’t check when they switched over to them last month.

What they don’t know won’t hurt them. It might hurt her though. She kind of needs her phone to live. That sounds dramatic, but it’s true. She needs her phone to be able to get in touch with Killian and to make sure she knows where all of her children are at any given time. They can all run like crazy, so it’s kind of hard to keep up with them. Hence why she’s trying to have this conversation. “Hey,” Killian says, his voice loud enough to reach over their talking, “listen to Mum, guys. We don’t go inside unless we listen to Mum.”“Sorry,” they both shamefully admit, looking at her with sheepish yet still happy faces. “It’s okay, guys,” she smiles, looking in the backseat at the smiles on their faces, mouse ears on all three of their heads. They’d insisted on mouse ears, and Killian being Killian, bought each of them the one they wanted even before they got to the park. Declan’s just got on a normal pair, but Hope is all decked out in one covered in sequins while Ada has an actual bow, the ears hurting her head so they compromised. Hope was not happy about it. This is all insane. So insane. She needs a new word. “I know that you’re excited, but this is a very big place with lots of people. And it’s very important to me that at all times you’re either holding onto my hand or daddy’s hand, okay?”“Okay, but what about Ada?”“What about her, baby?”“Is she going to hold onto your hand the whole time?”“Yeah,” Ada giggles, and everyone looks at her as she reaches her hand out to Hope, trying to hold her hand. “I hold your hand.”Killian chuckles and she reaches her hand over to grasp his forehand, her heart swelling at how sweet her kids are. They’re definitely going to have a meltdown at some point today, but right now they’re sweet. “That’s so good Ada, but you’re going to sit in a stroller. She’s going to sit in a stroller, but if she’s walking around, she’ll hold onto one of our hands, okay?”“Okay. When do we get to see Mickey?”“This afternoon,” Killian answers vaguely before they’re pulling into the parking lot of the Magic Kingdom. Killian had wanted to do Epcot simply for the alcohol, but that’s not really going to fly with the kids. They’re definitely more interested in seeing the rides based off of their favorite movies.

The beach vacation with just them is sounding better and better. She’d even wear one of those awful t-shirts that say “Life’s a Beach” if it meant she got to go. Most of the time she’s kind of thinking that life’s a bitch…okay, most of the time is an exaggeration. She’s just remembering how much it’s costing for all of them to get into this place today.

It’s a lot.

It also takes longer than she expected to get up to the front gate, having to take a trolley from the parking lot, but with much squirming and squealing and actual wrangling, they’re inside and mixed among thousands of other people walking down Main Street. She’s got a tight hold on Declan’s hand while Killian holds onto the other two, and even though it’s loud, surprisingly hot for January, and crowded, she can feel a bit of excitement running through her veins. The look on her kids’ faces, though, they’re priceless.

Okay, so maybe not priceless. She was just thinking about how expensive it was for them to get in here, but she’s totally got to put that behind her and just enjoy the day and the fact that every single on her kids cannot stop talking about the giant castle in front of them or the fact that everything looks like it’s been taken out of their favorite movies. And technically it has, but to them, it’s kind of like they’re getting to be a part of it all.

To be a kid and to get lost in the magic of it all.

They’re not at all interested in Tomorrowland until they see the Toy Story ride, and their day pretty much starts off with them spending their time in a line. It’s air conditioned though. She lives in Massachusetts. It’s never this hot in October there, but it’s got to be at least ninety degrees here. Florida is ridiculous.

(Florida really is, though. Every weird news story comes from Florida.)

Why is she acting like she’s never done this before? She loves going to amusement parks. This is going to a fun trip, and she’s going to enjoy it with her family by shooting at these little monsters from Toy Story.

“You’ve got a friend in me,” Killian whispers in her ear, the scruff brushing against her lobe and making a shiver run down her spine.

“To infinity and beyond or whatever,” she teases as she pecks his cheek.

“And you say I’m cheesy.”

“You are. Also, Declan and I are totally going to beat you guys when we go through this.”“That’s a challenge then, love?”

“Most definitely.”If she does say so herself, she beats Killian’s ass at the ride, and she’s totally going to use that as a bragging right for the rest of the day. Or at least quietly because Killian was on the same team as Ada and Hope, and she may be rude sometimes, but she’s not about to boast about beating her children…in front of her children. She can do that in secret.

After they wander around a little more, Killian going on a small rollercoaster with Declan and Hope, they start wandering to find the Little Mermaid ride. Ada’s been really into that movie lately, and while this trip is really more for her older siblings, she should at least be able to get to do something she likes. It’s kind of hard to find things for a two-year-old, but she’s trying.

She’s also trying to find out how to get to the dang ride. There are maps everywhere, but with people crowding around them, the park becoming fuller and fuller as time passes, everything is a bit more difficult, especially when they wander into Fantasyland (She knew the damn mermaid ride existed somewhere. It’s not like Ariel is from Atlantis.) and the entire place is packed with people dressed up in costumes that all look exactly the same. Did they all buy these costumes here? Is that what’s happened? She’s pretty sure that she read about there being some kind of beauty shop here that will do that for the kids. How has everyone already had time to go there? It’s still early.

“Hey, babe,” she starts twisting to the side to look for Killian only for him to not be there. She stops in her tracks, turning around to try to find her husband while people yell at her for stopping the flow of traffic. She can’t find him, and the moment she realizes that, her heart quickly pounds in her chest as she checks to make sure that she has all of her kids. Declan’s hand is still in hers, Ada is still in the stroller, and when she looks to her left Hope is walking just up ahead of her. “Hope,” she calls, speeding up to grab onto the back of her jumper. “Hope, baby, come here.”

“What?” she laughs, smiling up at her as she pulls her daughter back into her side.

“Where’s daddy?”

“Um, I don’t know. He told me to come find you.”

Well shit.

Shoot.

No, she’s thinking in her head. She can think shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Shoot.

“Okay, come here,” she sighs, taking a deep breath and making sure she’s got everyone while her eyes continue to glance around for Killian. She doesn’t see him anywhere. This is so not good. “We’re going to get a snack at –  ” She looks around the park until she sees the Cheshire Café. Seriously? The Cheshire Café? That thing is creepy. Why would anyone want to eat from there? The cat in the movie always kind of looks like it wants to eat Alice. “We’re just going to get something to eat while I call your dad.”“Where is Dad?”

“I have no idea.”

She orders them all food, miraculously finding an empty table near the restaurant, and she sets them all up before calling Killian. Their faces are already so red despite the sunscreen they applied, and it’s just…they need more. She and Killian are not really tan most of the time, and their poor kids are the same way. She’s got so much sunscreen in her bag. She’s pretty sure she bought out all of Target before they came here.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she mutters as she listens to his phone dial ring only for it to disconnect before the voicemail picks up. “What the hell?”

“That’s a bad word, Mommy,” Declan points out.

Crap. She said that one out loud. And now she’s thinking in terms of crap instead of shit. Someone should really have come up with better curse words and substitutes for curse words. These are…not good. Killian knows a million random words that no one else knows, so he could probably help out in this dilemma that isn’t actually a dilemma.

A dilemma, Emma.

That kind of rhymes or goes together or whatever.

Nope. No. she needs to focus.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

She dials Killian’s number three more times, but each time his phone goes to voicemail. He’s either ignoring her and ending the calls immediately or his phone is dead. She’s not sure which one would piss her off more. How in the world can his phone be dead? Just how? The man is the most meticulous person she’s ever met, and she knows how he charges his phone every single night.

Where the hell is he?

She’s lost her husband in the middle of Disney World. If a kid gets lost, amusement parks have sections for that, but what do they do for men in their mid-forties? Probably nothing because who loses an adult?

She does. She loses an adult.

“Where’s Daddy?” Declan asks as he pops a piece of popcorn in his mouth. “I’m not sure. Hope, when did you last see him?”She shrugs, her mouth covered in purple icing from the cookie she’s eating. Did Emma even buy a cookie? She’s not entirely sure that she did. Oh God, she hopes her kids didn’t steal a cookie. This isn’t even the right place for the Cookie Monster. Does the Cookie Monster steal cookies? Does this even matter?

“I don’t know. He was there and then he wasn’t. Can I get another cookie?”

“No, just one before we eat lunch. And drink some water please.”

“Daddy has the bottle.”

“Of course he does,” she sighs, hanging her head a bit. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll get you guys a water.”

Emma: Where are you?

Emma: Answer your phone.

Emma: Seriously, Killian. Answer the damn phone.

Emma: We’re sitting by the little Cheshire Cat Café thing if you’re looking for us.

Emma: I really hope you’re looking for us.

The more minutes that tick by, the more she begins to worry. Like, really worry. She wants to go look for him. She knows she could probably find him that way. Hell, her entire job is finding people. But she knows her best chance is staying her and hoping that he finds them. She really needs him to find them. That need grows more and more the longer they stay sitting at this table, all of her kids becoming restless and needing to be able to move around and go on all of the rides that they’re watching pass by.

The so-called happiest place on earth isn’t feeling too happy right now.

It’s kind of feeling like the crappiest place on earth.

Okay, so that was bad even for her. She is not meant to work in advertising.

She doesn’t know what to do. She’s in a huge place filled with thousands of people with no way to communicate with Killian. Does Ariel have some kind of shell phone she could use? No, no. the jokes are bad even in her own head. She needs to stop.

She needs Killian to show up. How the hell did she lose a fully grown man?

Her gaze stays between her phone, her kids, and the crowd, and after about twenty minutes of sitting at the table, a Facebook notification pops up on her phone. She never really uses it, but she’s been in this Disney group for tips and tricks about how to save money and make the best of your trip. It hasn’t really been helpful, but she might as well try this. Desperate times call for desperate measures or whatever.

Emma Jones: This is going to sound odd, but I’m looking for my husband in the Magic Kingdom. His phone is dead, and he somehow got separated from our family. Here’s a picture of us from today, so he’s wearing this outfit. He’s British, if that helps. If anyone sees him, can you send him to Fantasyland and to the Cheshire Café? Thank you.

“Oh my God,” she mutters underneath her breath as she messes with her sweater, “this has got to be the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“Where’s Daddy?” Declan asks again, and she turns her focus back to her kids.

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly, shrugging her shoulders before she brings Ada into her lap. “But I’m sure we’ll find him, okay?”

“Do we have to wait for him for the rides?”

“Um,” she hums, not really sure what to say as her phone buzzes on the table, “yeah.” When all of their lips start quivering, the meltdowns coming, she has to quickly respond before she’s both lost her husband, her mind, and all sense of control. “At least for a little while, and then we’ll go on the Little Mermaid ride, okay? If Daddy doesn’t show up today, we’ll just have to ride things without him and tomorrow he can come with us.”

Hope literally groans before she throws her face down on the table, only peeking her eye up to give Emma an evil eye that will never not chill Emma down to her bones. She’s got some crafty kids who can be kind of terrifying.

Her phone keeps going off on the table, so she picks it up only to see notifications filling her screen, every one of them from Facebook and none from Killian.

(And none for you, Glen Coco.)

Gregory Hart: How do you lose a grown man? Oliver Judson: This guy was my professor at Harvard, and he’s lost in Disney World. Lmfao. Isabella Santiago: He was mine too! Super hot. I’m pretty sure I showed up to class just to look at him. I almost failed. Lol. Beth Johansson: What does it say about Harvard that their professors can’t keep up with their families? Shameful. Jake Smith: I think I saw him in the Frontierland section, but I don’t know. There’s a lot of guys dressed like him. Blue jeans and a button up are not exactly distinctive. Should have worn a Hawaiian shirt or something.

Sylar Ng: Okay, time to place bets. Where do you think this guy actually is?

Exploring the hall of Presidents? He’s a professor, so probably pretty boring.

With another woman?

With another man?

In line for Space Mountain?

Stuck on It’s a Small World so he’s about ready to pull his hair out?

Eating Dole Whip?

Back at the hotel to catch a nap without his kids? Hannah Hoistler: Have you ever considered this to be a good thing? You can get in the single riders line? That’s like a fast pass to freedom.

Hannah Hoistler: Oh wait. Forgot about the kids. Never mind. Emma Jones: that’s funny because that’s actually how we met, so while I’m very fond of the single riders line, I do like riding my husband. Emma Jones: *with my husbandEmma Jones: I like riding him, but that’s not anyone’s business. Anyways, someone please help me find my husband.

Yeah, she’s officially gone crazy if she’s spending her time talking about her sex life with complete strangers online. Strangers who aren’t exactly helping her find Killian. All of the responses are a little insane, but they’re hilarious. And as stressed as she is right now, this is making her laugh.

“Mom,” Declan groans, “we’re never going to go on any rides if we just sit here all day.”

She looks at her son, looks at the desperation in his eyes, and really, she can’t keep them sitting her. She just can’t. Killian is a grown man lost in Disney World. It’s not like he’s been kidnapped by Mickey Mouse or something. He’ll figure things out, and she’ll just hope that someone finds him or that they miraculously run into each other in a line or something. It’s happened before, so there’s no reason it can’t happen again.

It’s probably not going to happen again.

“You’re right, kid. Let’s go.”

It’s basically a mad dash to all of the rides and shows from there, even if they end up having to stand in the lines for a little while, even with their fast passes. But her kids’ anticipation for everything is insane, and with the renewed energy they got from the sugar she just fed them (probably not the best move on her part), they don’t mind waiting, especially as they talk to other kids around them about the movies and rides and about just how big Cinderella’s Castle is. Of course, just because Declan and Hope are excited, that doesn’t really mean much about Ada. She conks out around three, and it’s kind of difficult to balance a sleeping toddler in a deeper sleep than Aurora and two kids who could climb Rapunzel’s tower without any kind of assistance from the giant rope of hair or a magic carpet ride or something.

But she makes it work. She’s never had to parent alone outside of their usual activities, kind of hopes that she never has to do it again, but after she gets used to it, she kind of masters it. No, she definitely masters it. And they have a fantastic day full of far too much food all of the rides her kids can imagine until they’re watching a parade on Main Street with ice cream in their hands and their feet all tired from moving around the park all day.

Seriously, she probably burned off all the calories.

Her phone has been going off all day, and while no one has found Killian, her post has apparently been shared over a thousand times, and even without her telling their friends what’s happened, they’ve shared it too. Liam is having a field day with it all.

“Swan,” a familiar voice calls, and her head whips to the side so quickly that it hurts. But then she sees Killian moving through the crowd, his hair sticking up like he’s been worriedly running his hand through it, and she’s not sure if she wants to smile at him or slap him. “Oh, my love,” he sighs when he gets to her, immediately squatting down and kissing all of his children’s cheeks before he slants his lips over hers, “where have you all been? I couldn’t find you.”

“You’re in trouble, Daddy,” Hope sighs, her eyes never leaving the parade.

“Am I now?” he asks her, his eyes filled with worry and his cheeks tinted red. She bets that he didn’t reapply his sunscreen.

Wow, she really is such a mom, even if she fully believes everyone should protect their skin.

“Where the hell did you go?”

“I don’t – I don’t know. My phone fell out of my pocket when we were walking, and I sent Hope up to you while I turned around to get it. It’s absolutely shattered. I’ve spent all day talking to the people in the front office and then looking in every damn section of this park.”

“That’s a bad word.”

Her kids are really into pointing out cursing today, and she’s not sure if she’s proud of it or annoyed by it.

“I know, bud, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry, love,” he whispers to her before kissing her once again. His lips taste like chocolate, and she knows he must have been eating a lot today too. He eats when he’s stressed, which she finds weirdly endearing. “I tried calling on an office phone, but you got the new number when we switched carriers last month and I don’t…”

“You don’t know my number?” She slaps his shoulder before shaking her head. “Oh my God.”

“I know, I know. And I literally…I haven’t memorized another number besides yours in eight years.”

Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. They obviously need to stop coming to amusement parks. Or at least know each other’s numbers. She doesn’t know Killian’s new one either, but she isn’t about to tell him that right now.

Probably not ever. She’ll memorize it later, and he’ll never have to know.

“So after today” she sighs, scooting over and allowing him to sit down in the cramped space next to her before Ada crawls into his lap, immediately snuggling into his chest like the daddy’s girl she is, “I’m kind of thinking that this morning I should have told you to always hold my hand so you don’t get lost.”

“I mean, what makes you think this wasn’t an elaborate plan just so I could hold your hand?” he laughs before he twines their fingers together, the float with all of the Aladdin characters going by singing a Whole New World. There’s a pun there. She just knows it. She’s also just too tired to think of it.

“Because that would be pathetic.” She squeezes his fingers before bringing his knuckles up to her lips, kissing right over his wedding band. “Also, they’ve had a lot of sugar today. You can be in charge of bedtime.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

“And, by the way, you’re internet famous today.”

He quirks a brow. “What now?”

“I’ll tell you about it later, babe. Let’s just enjoy the parade.”

He squeezes her hand before leaning over to whisper in her ear, “I will always find you.”

“I know, but your efficiency needs work.”

[nonasuch]

dogfather update: christmas

As always, everything dogfather-related is tagged with the dogfather and story updates are tagged with dogfather story post. If you get antsy waiting for the next update, check out my AO3 or the zines and comics on my Gumroad.

Also, I WILL be at the Wicomicon pop-up in Baltimore on Saturday! Come say hi if you can make it!

Moony is waiting just on the other side of the barrier. He only accompanies them as far as the car, though, and casts a few discreet spells over it while he thinks no one is looking. It’s not any kind of magic he’s seen at Hogwarts yet, but Harry thinks they might be protection charms. He’d never noticed it before, or thought to wonder, but it occurs to Harry that Moony and Padfoot must do this sort of thing all the time, and have done for nearly half his life. Little bits of magic to keep him safe, whenever they get the chance.

Before they set out, Remus tells them “We’ll see you back at the house-- oof, you ridiculous creature, get down--”  but as they drive away, he’s still trying to get Padfoot to stop jumping up and licking his face. Ron is too excited about riding in a car to notice, though.

Harry’s mum and dad have loads of questions, the whole way home. How are their classes, their teachers, the other students, that nice Hermione girl, her parents are so lovely, was Padfoot keeping them out of trouble?

“He does his best,” says Harry.

“That’s not a yes,” notes Harry’s mum.

“Whatever you’ve heard, Malfoy probably started it,” says Ron.

“He’s awful,” says Harry. “I wrote you about it, remember?”

“I knew boys like that, when I was a lad. Horrible little bullies, every one,” says Harry’s dad. “I don’t like to think about his home life, though, if he’s bringing that sort of behavior to school with him.”

Ron frowns. “His family’s really old and rich, though. He’s always on about Malfoy Manor this and pureblood that.”

“You’d be amazed at the way rich old families behave when they’re at home,” says Harry’s mum, quietly. “Some of them, anyway.”

Harry’s dad lets go of the gearshift, to take his mum’s hand for a moment. Harry knows his mum doesn’t talk to her family much, and sometimes she gets a bit sad about it ‘round the holidays.

(Most of the year, Caroline can say ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ and mean it. It just sneaks up on her, every once in a while.)

(There was never any big falling out, really. Just a series of straws that piled up: the uncles who sneered at her for not voting Tory, the beloved cousin whose funeral she alone attended, the remarks she wasn’t meant to hear about who was and was not our sort. When she imagined the way they’d look at her son, what they’d say about him when she was out of earshot, she found that she could live without them very happily.)

(Tim’s father died in the war. His mother lived to see them bring Harry home, and was delighted enough that it more than made up for the silence on Caroline’s side. Harry only just remembers her-- she passed when he was three. They’ve never been a large family, but in Caro’s estimation they have always been more than enough.)

(Anyway.)

“WE’RE HOME!” Harry shouts, as soon as he’s through his front door. From upstairs, he hears a startled sound and a thump, and after a few minutes Remus and Sirius, who Apparated back from King’s Cross, come clattering down the stairs.

“How was the car ride?” Sirius asks Ron.

“Bit weird,” Ron says. “Sort of like the Hogwarts Express, except that goes the same speed the whole way. Harry made it sound worse than it was.”

“I just wanted to warn you, in case you got carsick! Dad gets carsick if he isn’t driving,” says Harry.

“That happened once,” says Harry’s dad.

“Because you always drive, ever since,” Harry says serenely.

“I just stick my head out the window if I start feeling ill,” says Sirius.

“I think that only works if you’re a dog,” says Harry.

“All right, boys,” says Harry’s mum. “Go put your things away, and we can get started on the tree after we eat.”

While Harry and Ron unpack, and Harry introduces Ron to fascinating novelties like light switches and Nintendo and his mum’s hairdryer, the adults have a conference in the kitchen.

“Now,” says Caroline, once they’re settled and everyone has a mug. “What have you been leaving out of your letters?”

Sirius sputters, but she fixes him with a knowing look. “There’s something, I can tell.”

“Don’t look at me,” says Remus, when Sirius appeals to him for aid. “I haven’t said a word.”

“Yes, that’s why we’re asking,” says Tim.

“It’s really not ours to tell,” says Sirius.

He folds quickly, though, in the face of a matched set of stern looks. “All right! There’s a magical artifact that’s being kept at the school. But it’s nothing to do with Harry.”

“You said someone tried to curse his broom,” says Tim.

“Yes,” says Remus. “But someone tested the protections around the artifact that night, while everyone was distracted. So it might not have been about Harry at all. The trouble on Halloween wasn’t targeted, either, so far as we can tell.”

“There’s something off about the new Defense professor,” says Sirius. “But that’s not terribly unusual, in that job, and Dumbledore says it’s being handled.”

They’re interrupted, then, by the sound of someone trying to start the lawnmower in the back yard. By the time Harry and Ron have been retrieved, lectured, and sent upstairs to change into clothes that aren’t covered in grass stains, it’s time for supper.

It’s a little crowded in the kitchen. Once Remus charms the table longer and Sirius conjures extra chairs, they only just fit in the room. But that hardly matters. There’s plenty of food, wine for the grown-ups, an elaborate pudding waiting in the fridge. Stories about their first term come tumbling out of Ron and Harry, talking over each other in their excitement. Harry coaxes Moony and Padfoot into retelling a few of their Marauder exploits, since Ron has never heard them. Harry’s parents have news about family friends and Harry’s primary school friends. Caroline and Harry argue about the merits of the last book she sent him, while Tim attempts to explain the internal combustion engine to Ron.

After dinner, they hang stockings and trim the tree. There are new stockings, for Ron and for Remus, which makes them both go pink and quietly pleased. Sirius still insists on using the stocking they bought him his first Christmas with the MacIntyres, which says PADFOOT and has a fire hydrant appliquéd on.

Harry and Ron are assigned popcorn-stringing duty, and Ron complains it’s much easier with magic. They’re allowed to practice their levitation on the non-breakable ornaments, though. The tree is done nearly as quickly as it usually is, when they don’t use magic.

Tim goes to fetch his camera “All right,” he says. “Time for The Picture.”

“Da-ad,” Harry complains. “Really? Again?”

“Yes,” he says, as sternly as he can manage. “Again, and always, unto the end of time.”

“Best to humor him on this one, dear,” says Caroline. “I’ll get the bows.”

While Harry protests this indignity, Sirius explains, quietly, to Ron:

When Harry’s parents brought him home, it was nearly Christmas, and there were a great many jokes about Christmas miracles and surprise Christmas gifts from everyone who heard the happy news. So Caroline bought some oversized gift bows, and they took a family picture with an enormous red bow on each of their heads, and have done so every year since. 

“For our Christmas cards, y’see,” says Tim.

“Mum says she’ll start sending Christmas cards again when Ginny’s done at Hogwarts or when we all stop trying her patience,” says Ron. “Whichever comes first.”

“Well, there’s seven of you, that seems fair,” says Remus.

Tim fusses over his camera settings until he pronounces them acceptable. He hands over photography duty to Remus with some ceremony, before he and Harry and Caroline arrange themselves in front of the tree.

Remus takes one version without the bows and one with-- one with Harry looking very put-upon at the hat-sized mass of red velvet ribbon, and one smiling-- Sirius changes into Padfoot and sits besides Harry, and Caroline produces an additional bow-- and then Harry says “Change back, Padfoot, and let’s do one with everyone!”

“Oh, I don’t need to--” says Remus.

“I mean, I’m not really--” says Ron.

“Nonsense,” says Caroline. “I’ve got more bows, come on--”

“But who’ll take the picture?” asks Ron.

“It’s got a timer, don’t be silly,” says Tim.

Ron is very impressed by this bit of Muggle ingenuity.

(Much later, after Harry goes back to Hogwarts, Remus gets grudging permission to use the Hogwarts potions supplies to develop this last photo. Severus Snape finds it hanging up to dry the next morning, when he arrives to collect the ingredients with which the fourth-year Hufflepuffs will no doubt disgrace themselves.)

(This is what he sees: six people, in front of a mantel crammed with stockings and a tree trimmed a little lopsidedly. They look wholly, improbably, unselfconsciously happy. One of the two boys sitting on the floor has his arm round the other’s shoulders. They’re sitting in front of a settee, occupied by a man and a woman in their early fifties, no one Severus recognizes. The man turns, periodically, to kiss the woman on the cheek. One of the two men standing behind the settee appears to have just told the other an excellent joke. Each time they finish laughing, they sling their arms around each other again with easy affection.)

(They all have enormous red velvet bows of their heads.)

(Snape will never, under pain of death, admit to having looked at the photo for more than a glancing, contemptuous moment.)

The days before Christmas are quiet. Harry’s parents still have to work, to start with, so Harry and Ron stay home with Moony and Padfoot, playing wizard chess, teaching Ron the intricacies and arcane lore of the Super Mario Brothers. Padfoot accompanies them to play pick-up football with Harry’s primary school friends, who greet him gladly and only tease him a little for now being the shortest one in the group.

Not only is Xia a half-inch taller than him, she scores two goals and is totally insufferable about  both achievements.

“I am invincible!” she crows after the game, brandishing the football like a trophy while Jason and Omar and Katie chase her round the pitch. When they finally catch her, they have to give the ball to Malcolm for safekeeping, as he’s still half a foot taller than anyone else and can just hold it above his head.

After the game, Harry walks home with Ron and Padfoot in the twilight, their breath puffing out in clouds in the cold air. “They’re all right, your Muggles,” says Ron.

“They’re not my Muggles,” says Harry. “They’re my friends, same as you and Hermione.”

Ron concedes the point. “D’you think Hermione’s seeing her friends at home, too?”

“Well, she’s probably not playing football with them,” says Harry.

(He’s not wrong. Hermione never had a lot of friends, before she went to Hogwarts. Even then, she had trouble finding other children who saw her for what she was, who understood her when her clever mind went skipping ahead of her peers. There were a few, though, who shared her fiercely-held enthusiasms and her drive to know more, no matter the subject.)

(But they’re full of chatter about the things they’re studying in their own new schools: maths, not Arithmancy, and history without any magic at all. Composition and chemistry, not Defense Against Dark Arts, or Potions, or Herbology. For the first time in her life, Hermione has to hold her tongue about the things she’s learning. She’s counting the days til London.)

On Christmas Day, Ron wakes up first, and he and Harry creep downstairs before the sun is fully up. By the time any bleary-eyed adults stumble into the living room, they’ve sorted out the pile beneath the tree by recipient, and are near to vibrating with impatience.

Once all the grown-ups are more or less vertical and clutching a mug, they can start in on the presents.

Harry and Ron have whittled wooden flutes from Hagrid. They hoot delightedly at each other while Remus unwraps a fountain pen, and Sirius models a new jumper. Harry and Ron have jumpers, too, these from Ron’s mum, along with a tin of homemade fudge.

“I always get maroon,” Ron says, holding up his jumper.

“Swap with me?” offers Harry. “It’ll match my Gryffindor scarf.”

With a bit of charmwork to adjust the sleeve length, the exchange is pronounced acceptable by both boys. Harry’s dad confiscates the remaining fudge for after breakfast, though, along with the wizarding candy from Hermione.

Tim gets a new slow-cooker, and his mum gets new earrings and another old copy of The Importance of Being Earnest, which is an obscure joke between Harry’s parents that he has long since stopped paying attention to. There are more presents for him and for Ron, anyway: broom-care supplies from Padfoot and Moony, and a massive book called The Way Things Work for Ron.

“Look, it’s got all sorts of things,” says Ron, showing Harry an exploded diagram of a pencil sharpener. Flipping to the index, he says, “Hang on, what’s a space shuttle?”

There’s even a present for Whiskers: a clear plastic ball that she can run around inside, rolling happily down canyons of discarded wrapping paper and weaving between the chair legs.

It’s a lovely day. Everyone agrees. It stays lovely all the way through, all through dinner, at which Tim outdoes himself; through the Christmas crackers supplied by Remus, which play extremely loud brass-band fanfares and produce billowing clouds of colored smoke. After dinner Harry loses repeatedly to Ron at wizard chess. It snows just enough to justify bundling up again and going outside to romp around with Padfoot. By nightfall, there’s a fire in the hearth and the grown-ups are all sprawled on various pieces of furniture, wine glasses in hand. It’s one of the best Christmases Harry can remember having.

In the morning, Harry wakes with a start, not sure of what roused him. Ron, on the trundle bed, is awake too, if only just. “whazzat,” he says, blinking slowly.

“Dunno,” says Harry. And then he hears a loud thump, like someone slamming a door.

Harry pads downstairs, barefoot, Ron trailing behind him, and finds that his parents and Moony and Padfoot are all gathered in the kitchen, and they all look upset. Padfoot, in particular, looks thunderous.

“What’s wrong?” asks Harry.

“It’s not as bad as all that,” says Harry’s dad, trying to muster a smile. “Just a wee bit of an unpleasant surprise.”

On the kitchen table is a copy of the Daily Prophet, and on the front page is a rather blurry picture, cropped and enlarged from the Gryffindor Quidditch team photo Harry posed for just a few short weeks ago. And above it, in enormous letters, filling nearly half the page:

THE BOY WHO LIVES!

[sadrien]

prince of cats

chapter seven: you do wrong your hand too much

on ao3 || on ffnet 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Marinette keeps trying to get back to the building, but it’s almost impossible to go against the flow of the crowd.

Firefighters have shown up. They’re pulling people away from the building. Smoke is billowing out in dark clouds. Marinette feels sick.

She wants to shout that someone’s in there— Adrien is in there. There are probably other people too, still trapped in a burning building, but she only knows one and she can only find enough energy to care about one.

Her eyes are watering and she isn’t sure if it’s because of the smoke or not.

Someone pull her further away from the entrance. She’s holding onto her bag as tightly as she can in an attempt to ground herself, but it’s hardly working. She feels like she’s drowning, like she’s suffocating, like everything around her is going dark.

There’s too much noise.

“Marinette!” someone shouts.

Her head snaps up, eyes wide. She spots him stumbling out of the alleyway on the side of the building— he must have gone out a back exit.

Marinette knows she’s crying now.

She pushes through the crowd to him, barely holding onto her bag. She stop a few feet away when she seems the squirming ball of fur in his arms.

“Did you just run back into a fire for a cat?!” Her voice sounds weird, like it doesn’t belong to her. It sounds fake and airy and a little like it’s about to shatter.

Adrien hugs Plagg to his chest as Plagg meows in protest. Plagg bumps his head against Adrien’s jawline and paws at his face. “This grumpy butt might hate me and I hate him,” Adrien says, “but he’s the only family I’ve got and I love him for that.”

Plagg meows in a way that almost seems like an affirmation.

Marinette feels her heart breaking. She sighs and sags, reaching out to pet Plagg’s head. “Why am I friends with you?” she murmurs.

Adrien coughs and shrugs. “I don’t know, I always figured you liked me for my cat.”

Marinette laughs weakly. “That’s definitely one theory. Here.” She pulls her purse up onto her shoulder and takes Plagg from him. Plagg nuzzles against her chest. “You should go get checked out. You were in the smoke for a lot longer than I was.”

Adrien runs his hand through his hair, making it stand up in all directions. “Good idea. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” Marinette says softly as he moves deeper into the crowd. She holds Plagg close to her chest. People move around her, talking to each other and gossiping about the fire, panicking about what they might lose, laughing because if they don’t they’ll cry.

Marinette resists the urge to sink to the ground and curl up in a ball with Plagg and never move again.

✦ ✦ ✦

They stay for as long as they have to. When the fire is out and they’re told they can’t go back into the building, Adrien takes Plagg from Marinette and she leads them to a café she only knows is open twenty four hours a day because she has a horrific sleep schedule and sometimes needs a hot drink.

Adrien leaves Plagg outside.

“You sure about that?” Marinette asks as Plagg looks up at them from the sidewalk. “You did just run back into a fire for him.” She’s never going to stop feeling that terror. She’s never going to stop seeing Adrien turning around and going back into a burning building.

“He won’t leave,” Adrien promises. “I give him food, he’s always nearby.” He gives her a smile and pulls the door open. “After you, my lady,” he says with a little bow.

Marinette shakes her head and gives him a weak smile.

They look ridiculous, in their pajamas with messy hair and Adrien’s bare feet.

Marinette is relieved that she had thrown her wallet in her purse, because she would feel bad for sitting in the café without buying anything, even if the people working the graveyard shift never seem to care. She once bought a single pastry that she didn’t eat and then sat at one of their booths and drew for six hours. They didn’t even bat an eye.

Aside from her, Adrien, and the barista, the café is empty.

Adrien pulls out his wallet and orders a large black coffee and a large hot chocolate. Marinette is honestly surprised that he still remembers that she doesn’t drink coffee. She tries to pay Adrien back, but he shakes his head and says he’s making up for all the trauma he caused her tonight. He says it with a joking smile, but his eyes are apologetic, so she lets him buy her a single hot chocolate. It won’t be the end of the world. And she can always slip money into his pocket later.

“What time is it?” Marinette asks softly when they’ve sat down by the front window with their drinks. Plagg rubs against the window and looks up to Adrien meowing soundlessly on the other side of the glass.

Adrien squints at the clock on the wall. “It’s…about two fifty-five.”

Marinette groans and buries her face in her hands. “Not even three? It’s been too much of a day for it to not even be three o’clock.” Adrien hums softly. He takes a slow sip of his coffee.

“It doesn’t feel real,” Marinette says after staring into her cup for a long moment. “I… Like a dream that you can barely remember. It’s just—” She looks out the window. The streets are dark. People in the buildings around theirs woke up to the smoke and the flames and the sirens, but most of Paris is asleep and completely unaware.

Marinette doesn’t know where to go from here.

“I know,” Adrien murmurs. Marinette glances back to him. He’s looking past her at the wall, but he’s not really there. He has a distant look in his eyes and a crease between his eyebrows. “It’s hard to process.”

The café is too bright.

It’s too stimulating, even though the only sounds are them and the soft indie music playing over the speakers. The lights are too florescent, the seats are too hard, the hot chocolate is too sweet.

Marinette reaches across the table and takes Adrien’s coffee from him.

He blinks in surprise, brought back from whatever far away thought land he was visiting. He stares at her as she takes a long drink of his coffee.

She makes a disgusted face as she lowers the cup. “This is disgusting.”

Adrien smiles, small and sad. “Yeah, well, you don’t like coffee.”

Marinette studies the cup for a long moment. It’s disgusting and bitter, but it’s full of caffeine. “I have work at eight,” she says slowly.

Adrien gives her a worried look. “You aren’t going to call out?”

“I…”  She chews on her lip. “I don’t—”

“Mari,” Adrien says softly, “no one would fault you for taking a day off.”

“I know, I just…feel like it might be good to…go and…have a normal day at work before I have to deal with…” She gestures randomly with her hand. “Even if I don’t—” She groans and closes her eyes.

“What, what is it?”

Marinette opens her eyes to see Adrien leaning over the table to be closer to her, concern written all over his face.

“It’s silly,” Marinette mumbles. She pulls at her shirt. “I have no clothes.”

Adrien’s expression softens. “It’s not silly.”

“It is. I just want a normal day but— that can’t…”

“We can buy clothes,” he says. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure things out.”

Marinette nods wordlessly. “Where do we even go after this?”

Adrien shrugs. “I guess we’re going to have to figure that out as we go.”

She laughs weakly. “We might not be neighbors anymore.” The thought hurts more than it should. They’ve only really known each other for a month and a half, but Marinette doesn’t know what she’ll do without him just a step away.

She should probably consider that kind of pathetic, but mostly she just wants to cry.

“I should…” Marinette pulls her phone out of her purse. “Alya and Nino. They should know.” The three of them have always jokingly offered the others a spot on their couch, so it might be worth it to see if that offer still stands.

“Wait,” Adrien says before she can call Alya. Alya tends to keep her volume loud in case a story breaks, while Nino’s phone is almost always on do not disturb. “You don’t have my number, do you?”

Marinette hesitates before shaking her head. “I never really needed it.”

“You should have it.” Adrien pulls out his phone and unlocks it before handing it to her. “Here, you can add yourself so we have each other.”

Marinette takes his phone and gives him hers. She adds her number almost mindlessly, saving her contact as ‘Marinette (the Neighbor)’ because if they end up being away from each other, she doesn’t want to be that random name on his contact list that just exists without any context as her memory and face slowly fade from his mind.

She locks his phone, his phone screen is a default picture of Jupiter, and slides it back to him. When he gives her phone back, she sees his number saved as ‘The Cat Guy’.

Adrien stares out the window into the darkest for a long moment before he starts typing something out rapidly on his phone.

Taking a shaky breath, Marinette clicks Alya’s number and lifts her phone to her ear as it rings.

“‘ello?” Alya asks, sounding half asleep still.

“Hi, it’s me,” Marinette says, voice wavering.

“Mari?” She can hear Alya moving around. “Why are you up at… Shit girl, it’s like three thirty in the morning. Why are you up?”   

“I…” The words get caught in Marinette’s throat. “I’m in a café.”

“A café?” Alya seems suddenly significantly more awake. “Mari, are you okay? What’s going on, you sound—”

“There was a fire,” Marinette interrupts. She squeezes her eyes tightly shut. “A-a fire. In our building. Adrien and I are in a café, b-because there was a fire and… There was a fire.”

“Holy shit.” Marinette hears Nino say something on the other end. Alya must cover the speaker with her hand as she replies. “Are you two okay?” Alya asks, words a hurried jumble that Marinette can barely figure out. “What café are you at, we’re coming to get you.”

“We’re fine,” Marinette promises. “Just…tired. We’re fine. And you don’t have to, we’ll— it’ll be okay.”

“No, we’re going to come get you,” Alya says sharply. “I will search every café to find you if I have to. Please, Marinette. Please. We’re your friends, let us help you.”

Marinette rubs a hand over her face. “Okay,” she whispers. “Okay. Do you know that café that’s open twenty-four seven about two blocks away from my apartment building?”

“Yes.” Something crashes and Nino swears loud enough to be heard over the phone. “We’ll be there as soon as we can, just sit tight. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Marinette murmurs before hanging up. She takes a deep breath and puts her phone down on the table.

“They’re coming?” Adrien asks.

Marinette nods and stretches her fingers. She’s shaking. Now that she’s not holding something — a purse, a cup, a phone — she can’t stop shaking.

Adrien reaches across the table and takes her hands in his. “It’ll be okay,” he promises. “We’re going to be okay.”