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novissa · 3 years

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took my bitterness and made it sweet

this is for @the-sunflowerstar for the mm nets gift exchange!!! happy holidays!! i hope you like it <33

it’s a nodrian fic that’s mostly canon compliant, but a few things in supernova happened differently and nova left gatlon afterwards, but she’s called back to help the renegades one last time. partially inspired by prompts 1, 24, and 35 from this list

wc: 5394

Nova had decided that she was done with the Renegades a long time ago. Well, technically twice. Once when she was six, back when the Renegades had taken away her only family. The second time had been just over a year ago, after she’d left the Anarchists and when Gatlon was rebuilding.

The Anarchists hadn’t been right. She knew that now, and there were times when she questioned how she had trusted them so much. Ace— Uncle Alec— hadn’t been right. But she hadn’t been able to think of the Renegades as right, either. The Anarchists, despite their valid original beliefs, had also believed in the importance of achieving goals over the value of human life. That had been the one thing that Nova had never been able to accept. But the Renegades hadn’t been so different in that— sacrifices for the greater good. She’d tried to fit in there, for a while. And the Renegades had started to change for the better. But one day just over a year ago, she’d had enough of it and decided to get as far away from Gatlon as possible.

It had been a mostly clean break— of course she had missed some of her friends, but she still kept in contact with Oscar, Narcissa, Danna, and Ruby. As for most of the other people in Gatlon— she didn’t particularly care. The Renegades Council had caused her enough harm already, and she didn’t care too much for saying goodbye to the very people who had made her want to leave. Perhaps that was a little unfair and cynical. But Nova had gone through enough in just seventeen years to make her deserve to be cynical, at least a little bit. As for Leroy, well. He also served as another reminder of everything she was running away from. But he often sent letters and sometimes gifts, and sometimes she caved in to her weak softness and sent something back. A “mostly clean break”. What a lie. Nothing was ever clean and easy when she was involved. Perhaps it would have been cleaner if not for that foolishness in her that missed people.

The part of the break that should have been the messiest had maybe been the cleanest. She still talked to her old friends, but there was a clear empty space there, a name blatantly missing when she sent out her letters. Sometimes she wondered about him. Not that often, though.

Then again, when he surrounded her constantly without even being there, maybe it was a little harder to know when she was wondering about him. When you were never not thinking about someone, you couldn’t pinpoint the specific times you were thinking about them, because there weren’t any specific times— it was just constant.

Nova brushed that away. It didn’t matter how often she thought about him, anyway. It wasn’t as if that was going to make a difference.

She thought that maybe her definition of a “clean break” could use some work. Maybe it had been clean in the way that nothing back in Gatlon had really been disturbed with her leaving. Gatlon might have changed since she had left, but certainly not because of her. Clean in the fact that she hadn’t left a mess behind. No, the mess was here, with her, as it always had been. For as much as Nova liked set plans where nothing could go wrong, she was quite a mess just in herself.

So leaving had been the right thing, because she had been sick of both sides and all the stupid Renegadeness of everything back there. Everyone having powers had done nothing except make things worse. And leaving hadn’t been a selfish decision, because in leaving people behind, she was really doing them a favor. She was full of complications and thorns that never protected her from enemies; her sharp edges only hurt the people she cared about, the ones who had tried to get a little too close to a forest fire. It was a little lonely now, but she didn’t mind being a forest fire. Being a fire that was impossible to put out meant that she was free. All she ever did was make complicated messes for other people, and then retreat into her thorns and fires again. But all that was okay now. They would never have to deal with the mess that was Nova Artino again.

Or so she had thought. She had never expected to see any of them again, apart from through letters and phone calls and well-wishes that she knew the others didn’t mean. And then she’d gotten a phone call from the person she last expected, and then she’d done the most foolish thing possible and agreed.

Simon had been nice when he called. She’d been able to tell that he didn’t know what to say to her, which was fine. She hadn’t exactly known what to say to him, either.

Nova had been reluctant outwardly, but she couldn’t deny the leap in her heart when she processed what he was asking of her. She couldn’t deny the fact that part of her had truly missed the city that had taken everything from her. Then again, the knife cut both ways— the city had also been her home and entire life. Gatlon had given everything to her and taken it all away.

She could’ve hung up, could’ve told Simon exactly what she thought of the Renegades and exactly what he could do with his stupid request for help. Or she could’ve politely declined and gone about her business as normal. But that was maybe the least satisfying outcome, and any of those paths would have ended with that. Normal. Normal life was now incredibly bland. The only people she really saw on a regular basis were the cashiers at the local grocery store.

And… maybe she did miss Gatlon, just a little bit. And it would be nice to see her friends again.

Just as she had been considering this, Simon had hit her with something even more shocking. “Obviously you’re not obliged to, but you did manage to best us many times, so I figure that you have a better chance at stopping this than most of us. And… I think Adrian would appreciate it if you were there.”

She still couldn’t believe that he had made that gamble. The mention of Adrian could have made her hang up on him immediately. And she had considered that. But… instead her foolish, foolish heart had betrayed her once again, and she’d said yes.

So. About the whole… “clean break” thing. Yeah. And the reason why Adrian was the missing space, why the thing that should’ve, by all accounts, been the messiest part of all of this, was actually the easiest. She’d had absolutely no contact with him throughout the past year, despite the fact that he… well. He was Adrian. Adrian Everhart, the son of her enemy, who had turned out to also be her enemy in another way. The person who had seen her at Renegades Trials so long ago and decided to take a chance on her. The first person she’d really been able to open up to, to even— fall asleep next to, after ten years of staying awake. Her boyfriend. Well. Ex-boyfriend. Even before she’d left.

About two weeks before she had left Gatlon for good, and only about three days before she considered leaving Gatlon… she had broken up with him. There were both many, many reasons for this and also no reasons at all. She had maybe been a little unfair to him, but also she wasn’t sure. It had probably been for the best. Better for him to not be attached to her, because clearly all she did was hurt people. It was fine.

She supposed that maybe the reason why she had agreed to help the Renegades one last time was because she wanted to make up for everything. It was ridiculous to believe that doing this would make up for everything, of course, but it was something, and skies knew that she owed everything to Adrian. Maybe she owed nothing to the Renegades, but she owed a great deal to Adrian and the rest of Sketch’s Team. Sketch’s Team. That was something she rarely thought about now, at least not using those words. She wasn’t sure what had really happened to them after she left, at least in terms of how their team was seen in the eyes of the Renegades. They were probably just carrying on like they used to, before her.

And yeah, maybe she hurt everything she touched, even when she was trying to do something right. But she thought it might be nice to just… do one good thing. One good thing, to prove that she could help people without hurting them, and to maybe start to make up what she owed to the others.

Of course, she was never that good at… well, she was never that good at being good. Every single attempt to do good things in the past had gone awry. This one might, too. She might cause more damage by simply being here. But… well. It was worth a try, maybe. One last shot. One last mission with her old team to try to fix things for once, instead of breaking them.

Which was how she had ended up… here. In an alley, surrounded by enemies. The strangest thing about all of this was that her old team was at her side. It was a familiar situation— sort of. In the past, they’d never been surrounded. It seemed that with the rise of powers meant that there was also a rise in villainy. And this time, they were actually on the right side for certain. But the feeling of having her team at her back, even through danger, was so familiar that Nova could cry. If she were the crying type, and if she didn’t have better, more important things to do. Nova was not, in fact, the crying type, and currently she was more concentrated on trying not to die.

The group they were fighting against called themselves the Scarlet Dreamers, which slightly confused Nova. At least the Anarchists’ name had been very straightforward and made sense. That was also one of her problems with villain gangs of the past. Why anyone would name a gang after roaches was beyond her.

This group was not anything like the villain gangs of the past. If anything, they were more similar to the way the Renegades used to be. Which was exactly why the Renegades had asked for her help this time, and also why she didn’t feel too bad about fighting for the Renegades this time.

She was surrounded by enemies, but she didn’t mind the situation all that much. She had her friends… if they still considered her a friend. And this was a situation she’d found herself in many times, and she’d always figured a way out before. This time would be no different.

Just a few minutes ago, Adrian had felt confident about his odds, despite being outnumbered. He’d had his entire team at his back then, and, while surrounded, they’d been on firm ground. Which… hadn’t lasted very long.

As Adrian stared at the circumstances before him, he truly had no idea how they were going to get out of this. Separated from the rest of their team, surrounded on all sides on a rooftop, and all of his markers were currently at the bottom of the very tall building they were stuck on. He didn’t have springs on his feet anymore— even after getting his powers back, there were some things that he didn’t want to repeat, though he was kind of regretting that decision right now. Nova was next to him, but he didn’t think even she could fight her way out of this— though, to be fair, she was Nova, and he’d learned long ago to never bet against her.

He glanced at Nova now, trying to ignore the twinge in his heart. Maybe she had moved on with her life, far away from Gatlon and its complications, far away from the Renegades who had hurt her, away from everything she couldn’t live with— which included him. Maybe she had been able to escape this city and move on, but he hadn’t been able to move on from her. And, honestly, he’d kind of… been frozen for the past year. She’d left Gatlon and left him, and she’d moved on to a new life where she could actually be happy, but where was he? Right where he had been a year ago, where he’d been his entire life. And he’d never been able to get over her.

Now she was standing right next to him, in a very much not ideal situation. But she looked so similar to the girl he had loved a year ago, with her dark eyes scanning the situation and the same leather jacket that she had worn so often back when he thought he knew her. She straightened her ponytail in an action that was so familiar because he’d memorized it so long ago. So similar, but also… different. Different from the girl that he had been in love with, but maybe he was still a little bit in love with her.

“So what’s the plan?” he whispered to her.

She turned to him, a slight smile on her lips. He remembered when he’d tried to memorize what she looked like every time she smiled. There had been a time when he’d thought his greatest victories were not all the times he’d saved people, but every time he had succeeded in making her smile. “Do you trust me?” she asked. She was still smiling, like she always did when she had a plan. But he could see in her eyes that she was hesitant, especially because with everything that had happened, how could he possibly trust her? Adrian had the feeling that his answer didn’t matter, since they both needed to get out of there anyway. But… still.

Adrian nodded anyway, because he did trust her, and there were a million reasons why he shouldn’t— because Nova had been his enemy for so long, because they were exes, because he hadn’t seen her in a year, because how could you trust someone who had tried to kill your dad and who had lied to you for so long while plotting your destruction? But the truth was… he really did trust her, probably more than almost anyone else. It was a simple truth, one that he would love to reject, one that didn’t even make sense. A truth as simple as: yes, the sun rose every morning, the stars they saw at night were the same ones, he would do anything to protect the people he loved… and, yes, he trusted Nova Artino with his life.

A look of surprise passed over Nova’s face, but she wrapped her arm around his waist. “Okay,” she said softly. “You’re going to have to hold on to me. Very tightly. Unless you want to end up with your bones crushed on the pavement below.”

Adrian wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, so he held on very tightly. There was a stray eyelash just below her right eye. He resisted the urge to brush it away. Nova smirked, then pulled out a grappling hook. “Hold on tight,” she whispered, and then shot out the grappling hook, attaching it to the next building. A running start, and then they were jumping off of the roof. Adrian gasped, thinking that even if they somehow survived this, he would die from the stress of trying to defy the law of gravity.

Adrian clung tightly to Nova as they swung away from the Scarlet Dreamers. He didn’t think it was a good idea to look down, so he looked at Nova. It was oddly thrilling, to be swinging through the air in a death-defying feat.

“We’re going to jump soon,” Nova whispered to him, “and we’re going to land on the ground between those two buildings.”

He nodded, absolutely terrified, but then they were jumping, and then they had landed safely. He exhaled slowly. Even with the thrill, he did not want to ever do that again. “Thank the skies you got us out of there,” he said to Nova.

She laughed, stepping back from him. He felt a twinge of disappointment, which was absolutely ridiculous. “Yeah,” she said. “It was a little close there.”

He nodded. “So, uh,” he cleared his throat. “What now?”

Nova stiffened, glancing behind them. “Well, it looks like we’re not out of the woods just yet,” she said, nodding to where the Scarlet Dreamers were still going after them.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

“We run,” she said.

She took his hand, and he tried not to die from the shock of it all. And… they ran.

The Scarlets were not giving up, apparently. Nova raced through the streets with Adrian, marvelling at how much had changed. Ugh, the Scarlets were following close behind and showed no sign of stopping. She kept her eyes peeled for a sign of another team member, but she didn’t think that her search would be successful. She hated being right when it was like this.

At last, she found an alleyway that they might just be able to hide in, and she pulled Adrian into it. Out of breath, she panted, then led Adrian to a spot behind a couple trash cans where they could hide. Definitely not preferable, but it was better than dying.

She sat down in their hiding spot and stared up at the sky. The sun was bright, and she squinted up at it. This was probably one of the worst missions they’d ever had.

They sat there in comfortable silence for a while. It was odd, how familiar everything was. They’d fallen right back into their old pattern. And there was something about almost dying a few times that made any awkwardness between two people much less important. After a while, Adrian said, “That grappling hook of yours is very handy.”

Nova smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “I made it a few months ago, and I’m… very glad I did. Definitely one of my most useful inventions, especially compared to some of the failed ones.”

Adrian laughed. “Yeah, I remember, from when— yeah.” There was a moment of silence where neither of them knew what to say. The quiet that had seemed so familiar and comforting before had soured, and now the awkwardness remained. Nova glanced up at him again, trying to visualize everything that had changed since a year ago.

He still looked like Adrian. Of course he did. A year didn’t change things that much. But… there was something different about him. Nova couldn’t put her finger on it. She sighed. They were only inches apart, but the small space between them seemed insurmountable. In those few inches were an entire year of separation and an immeasurable amount of hurt. Maybe it wasn’t him that was different— maybe it was her. After all, as she had seen earlier with Oscar and Ruby, he hadn’t changed one bit. It was just that things between them were completely different. And it was all her fault.

Nova averted her eyes again, not wanting to think about that.

Unfortunately, it seemed that that was what Adrian was thinking about, too, and he wasn’t quite as determined to avoid it as she was.

“Why did you do it?” he whispered. He pulled back, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

Nova considered pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about, but of course she knew. And… maybe she did owe it to him to answer. It was clear that neither of them had truly ever moved on from each other, and it was even clearer that this was what they were both thinking about even in the face of danger.

“I should answer it,” she said slowly. “I owe you that much.”

Adrian closed his eyes. “You know that you don’t owe me anything,” he said quietly. “If anything, maybe I owe you.”

Nova glanced at him, startled. “What do you mean?”

Adrian shrugged. “I mean, you did save my life a few times.”

Nova frowned. “I also tried to kill your dad, and I lied to you about— well, everything.”

“Not everything.”

“What?”

“You didn’t lie to me about everything,” Adrian said firmly. “Even when people are lying, there’s still truth in it. And your lies were very truthful.”

Nova bit her lip. That was true, even if she didn’t like it.

Adrian met her eyes. “You’ve lied to me a thousand times, Nova Artino.” Her last name in his mouth. There was an edge to his voice as he said it. It served as a reminder of everything she had done— everything she had done to hurt him. A reminder that a year ago, they had been archenemies on opposite sides of a war. Archenemies— and lovers. The way he spat out Artino came as no surprise to her, and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t heard that name spoken in disgust a thousand times. But what was a surprise to her was the way that her name still felt safe in his mouth. For all his deserved hatred of everything she had once stood for, she trusted him.

Do you trust me? She’d asked him that a moment ago. But perhaps he should’ve been the one asking her that. And… perhaps that answer was yes. She did trust him. It was foolish, and she couldn’t even blame him if he betrayed her, but… she trusted him despite everything.

“You’ve lied to me a thousand times,” he repeated. “But I know you.”

Perhaps he did. Maybe he was the only one who really knew her. The one person who by all accounts should not know her and should not even make attempts to know her. They had been on opposite sides until Nova had decided that she was sick of both sides, but maybe they were more alike than she thought.

Nova blinked, trying to remember how they had gotten on this topic. “Okay, you know me, but… I still hurt you. You don’t owe me anything. And I owe you everything.”

Adrian smiled gently. “Then maybe we should stop thinking about what we owe to each other and think about what we can do to help each other in the future instead.”

Nova laughed. “We both know we can’t just ignore the past.”

“Maybe,” Adrian said. “So don’t ignore the past. But what you think you owe to me doesn’t matter.”

Nova frowned. She thought that she owed him a great deal, and that it also mattered a great deal. But maybe she could start atoning. By… explaining why she ran a year ago.

Nova tilted her head up to stare at the sky again. “The answer to your question is that… I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, it’s not as simple as that. I do know, partly. But it was never for anything you did.” She needed him to know that. It was never his fault, but only hers.

“I… I guess I got scared.” She glanced up at him again. “You were so confident that everything would be okay, but— but it was so clear that it wasn’t okay, and I was at a point in my life where I didn’t think anything would ever be okay again. I couldn’t stand the fact that I had hurt you so much, but I also couldn’t stand that I was betraying the cause I dedicated my life to, that my uncle had dedicated his life to… and I know that it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right for my uncle to hurt so many people to further his cause, and it wasn’t right that I ran when I got scared. But I didn't think I could ever move on like that. And… honestly, while I can’t say that I should’ve ran like that, I do believe that if we had just gone on like that, it wouldn’t have worked out. And it might have only caused further damage. And I’m so sorry about everything.” She paused. Once she’d started speaking, she hadn’t been able to stop. “I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. And now I'm just doing everything I can to make up for what I did to you.”

Adrian nodded, his face softening. “You don’t have to make amends,” he said. “Callum saw just how hurt you were, and I see that too. But I know that you can heal. We both can.”

Nova closed her eyes. “Do you really think that healing is possible for people like us?”

Adrian slid his hand a little closer to her. An open invitation, if she chose to accept. Nova gazed at it, holding her breath. “I really do think it is,” he said. Nova reached out her hand. Closing her eyes, she placed it over his gently. Adrian tensed slightly, and she prepared to pull away, but he laced their fingers together. “Healing is possible for everyone,” he said quietly, “no matter how messed up their pasts are.”

“If you don’t believe me,” Adrian murmured, “Look at the other renegades. We have a lot of people looking for redemption and a home that will accept them. And some of them come from the darkest pasts you can imagine, but I also see them surviving— and even thriving.” He turned to look at her, and Nova stiffened. “I don't think you’re beyond healing, Nova Artino.” The way he said her name was much softer this time. “And I refuse to believe I'm beyond it, either.”

Nova inhaled sharply, moving her gaze to the ground again. “I think the coast is clear,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “We should look for the others.”

Adrian nodded, releasing her hand. She stood up, moving her mind from… whatever the past conversation had been about, to once again scanning for the rest of the team and potential enemies. Her hand tingled from touching him. Ridiculous. Foolish. It seemed that everything Nova did these days was foolish. Especially when it involved Adrian.

A week later, everything with the Scarlet Dreamers seemed to have cleared up, and Nova was packing her bag to leave Gatlon once again.

Danna and Narcissa had stopped by earlier that morning to say their goodbyes. She’d promised them both that she would write them much more often. Also, they’d managed to weasel her phone number out of her, so it seemed that she might be getting a lot of texts the moment she left.

Ruby and Oscar had said they would be waiting for her at Headquarters to say goodbye. From there, she would get on the bus and get far, far away from Gatlon. It had been nice to see them all again, and… Well, she wasn’t sure that she had really cleared things up with Adrian. But she had at least explained things to him, and she thought that maybe they would keep a friendship. Though there were definitely many more complicated feelings on her end.

She glanced around the room she’d been staying in one last time. Why was leaving so much harder the second time around?

She’d needed to get out of the city last time. But this time… what was even really waiting for her back home? And… she’d started to miss Gatlon. But that didn’t matter, because she’d made plans, and she was going to stick to them.

There was a knock at her door. Nova looked up in surprise. Maybe Oscar and Ruby had decided to walk her to Headquarters, too? Or maybe it was someone else, coming to say goodbye. There was one person that she kind of hoped she’d get to see before she left, but she left that hope unsaid.

“Hey,” she said, opening the door. “I was just about to head out—” She stopped short the moment she realized who it was. “Adrian?”

He smiled at her. “What, you didn’t think I’d say goodbye?”

“You didn’t last time,” she said softly.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to see you last time.”

“I— I didn’t not want to see you last time.” Maybe that wasn’t entirely true. She hadn’t really wanted to see anyone last time. It would’ve been easier if she’d been able to just drop off the face of the earth without anyone knowing. This time, though…

“What about this time?” Adrian asked, looking very uncharacteristically uncertain.

“Of course I wanted to see you, idiot,” she said. “Wait— did you bring flowers?”

Adrian smiled, moving his hand from behind his back to reveal the bouquet. “Well, I didn’t think that weaponry would be very suitable this time.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, I just thought you might want to take them with you, wherever you go. To brighten up your home for a little bit.”

“Thank you,” Nova said, suddenly emotional. “For the flowers and for everything else.”

“I also wanted… to ask you to stay.”

“What?”

Adrian bit his lip. “I know you have better things waiting for you outside of Gatlon, but… I thought it would be worth a try to ask you to stay here.”

“I don’t want to be a Renegade again.” The words come out automatically. She’s not sure what else to say.

“Then don’t,” Adrian said. “But… I know everyone misses you. Oscar and Ruby and Narcissa and Danna. They’re all heartbroken to see you leave again.”

Nova hesitated. “And you?”

“What?”

“Do you want me to stay? Not just because of your friends, but do you truly want me to stay here?”

Adrian paused, then nodded. “Yeah. I… I don’t know if things can be the same between us, but… I want you to stay.”

“Then I’ll stay.” She hadn’t known she was going to say that until she’d already said it. All she’d needed to convince her to stay in Gatlon was for Adrian to say he wanted her to. She hadn’t known that until it happened, either.

“Really?” He spoke as if it were too good to be true. “I don’t want to ask you to do something you don’t want to.”

Nova smiled at him. “Adrian, no one has ever been able to make me do something I don’t want to. I don’t usually listen.”

Adrian laughed. “I’m… really glad.”

Nova reached out for him uncertainly, wrapping him in a hug. He didn’t pull away. “I missed you,” she said, the admission slipping out in a whisper. “I didn’t know it was possible to miss a person that much.”

“I missed you too,” Adrian said softly.

She pulled back, smiling. “Also, about what you said— about things not being the same between us…” She hesitated. “I know we’ll never be the way we were before, but… maybe we could… try again?”

Adrian froze. Then, slowly, he said: “I’d like that.”

All the anxiety in Nova melted. “Me too,” she said. “I— I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. About healing. And I don’t know if I believe that yet, but I’m going to give it a try.”

“We can try it together,” Adrian said. “If you want.”

She exhaled in relief. “Yeah. I would really like that.” She glanced at her bag. “So, I guess I’m staying.” The words felt foreign on her tongue. “Oh, I’m staying.” It felt weird, but… she thought she rather liked the idea of it. “I need to tell Oscar and Ruby that I’m staying.” She grabbed her jacket. “Care to walk to Headquarters with me?”

“I’d love to,” Adrian said, placing the flowers in a vase. “And your flowers can now brighten up your place in Gatlon.”

She beamed at him. “Wait, there’s one thing I need to do before we go.”

“What’s that?” Adrian asked.

“This.” She pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his lips.

Adrian smiled, taking her hand. “I think we’re doing pretty good at this ‘trying again’ thing so far.”

#renegades #renegades trilogy #nodrian #nova artino #adrian everhart #my writing

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gourmetmilkshake · 2 years

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the new intern at work is a kid whose mom had a first-name basis cashier/customer relationship with me when i worked at a grocery store. i recognized him from 1) the times he would come in as a high schooler and awkwardly help his mom unload the grocery belt and 2) his last name, which his mom wrote on all their reusable bags

#your past never escapes you lol

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frauleinsmaria · 5 years

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Signed, Sealed, Delivered {1/1}

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

Rated T, includes references to sexual misconduct.

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

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

Also on AO3

-/-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning, lass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have a nice day, Miss Swan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no. “Did I really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Killian?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t argue with that.”

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

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

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

“Touche.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How long have you been driving?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But?”

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

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

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

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

“What happened then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning, Swan.”

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

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

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

She stood there feeling somewhat awkward as he finished unloading, wanting to say something to him about the other night at the bar, but not knowing exactly what. She was still contemplating it when she signed for the delivery. “What do you call this thing, anyway?” she asked. “I’ve just been calling it ‘UPS device thing’ in my head, but I’m sure there’s a technical term for it.”

Killian chuckled. “It’s called a diad. Stands for Delivery Information Acquisition Device — so you weren’t too far off.”

“Huh. Maybe I should come work with you then, considering I already know so much about how things work.”

“I’d certainly prefer you to some of the ride alongs I’ve had before. Remind me to tell you about what happened on Will Scarlet’s first day sometime.”

“Will do,” she confirmed, handing the device — diad — back to Killian. He clipped it back to his belt and was turning to leave when she spoke up. “Killian?”

“Yes, love?”

“Are we friends? Sorry,” she continued when his eyebrow shot up to his hairline. “It’s just that we see each other pretty regularly and I actually enjoy our conversations, and you let me spill my guts to you Saturday night without judging me and that seems like something a friend would do. But for all I know, you might not even want to be my friend. Which makes this really awkward and—”

“Hey,” he interrupted. “I would like nothing more than to be friends with you, Swan. Truthfully, I’ve thought of you as a friend for some time now. And it’s nice — no one else I know has the same penchant for cocoa and romantic comedies.”

“I’m one of a kind, I guess.”

“That you are.”

“Will I see you at the wedding this weekend?”

“Aye. Liam and I will both be attending, him more so not to let Ruby down.” Another fact Emma had learned at the bar was that Liam and Ruby were classmates in nursing school and had remained friends since. “Weddings haven’t exactly been one of his favorite social events since Harper’s mother passed.”

Emma’s heart sank. She’d never been married, but could only imagine what it felt like to attend an event where people celebrated the very thing you’d lost. It may have stung when Neal turned his back on her, but she knew it had to be worse when someone was taken away unexpectedly, leaving you to wonder how much more time you could have had together.

“I get that,” she told Killian. “He’s really lucky to have you around, though.”

The responding smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes. He glanced back to the stack of boxes he’d brought instead. “Yes, well. If that’s the last of it, I’m afraid I have to keep going. Goodbye, Swan.”

Emma stood there frozen and perplexed as she watched him go. Had something she said about him or Liam that struck a nerve? The thought nagged at her over the next few days, causing her to wonder if she’d unknowingly caused some kind of problem just minutes after confirming their friendship.

But when he arrived for their next delivery on Thursday morning, he was himself, charming and witty as ever. Emma was glad to see him act as if nothing had changed, but she knew there was much left to learn about Killian Jones.

Ruby and Mulan’s wedding took place on Sunday afternoon in the yard behind their house. The space had been adorned with fall decor in various shades of orange, yellow, and of course, Ruby’s signature red. The ceremony itself was simple, no wedding party or long introduction from the officiant. But the vows were touching and heartfelt. Emma found herself wiping her eyes more than once at both women’s words, and then again when they were pronounced as each other’s wives.

The reception that followed the ceremony, however, was anything but simple. There was a great deal of food, music, and alcohol, not unlike the celebration they’d had for Ruby’s birthday the weekend before. There was, however, a makeshift dance floor set up in the yard, where the brides once again ignored everyone else while they alternated between slow dancing and spinning each other around in circles. (Funny enough, no one was playing “Single Ladies” this time.)

Emma sat at one of the round tables placed around the dance floor, eating what may or may not have been her second slice of wedding cake while she and her girl friends chatted about a handful of different things: the recipe Mary Margaret had recently found for chocolate coconut brownies, what they’d each been watching on Netflix, and the town’s upcoming fall festival.

“Speaking of approaching events, I do believe someone has a birthday soon,” said Belle, glancing toward Emma, a warm smile on her face.

She wasn’t sure whether to smile back or sigh in defeat. Her birthday was on Wednesday, but it wasn’t something she enjoyed celebrating nearly as much as someone like Ruby or her other friends. And everyone knew this, although their knowledge on the reason why was minimal.

What was the point in celebrating a day that only reminded her of what she didn’t have? Because, in spite of any gifts or attention her friends might try to shower her with, she was never able to focus on anything but what the day signified and the questions she may never have answers to. The main one being why was she abandoned outside of Storybrooke just after (if not on) the day in question.

She forced down the lump quickly forming in her throat. Her friends’ wedding was the last place she wanted to reopen those old wounds. “I need more punch!” she announced, getting to her feet. “Anyone else?” Not waiting to hear anyone’s answers, she took her mostly full cup to the punch bowl at a table on the other side of the yard.

Emma topped off her drink and grabbed a handful of crackers she didn’t actually want just to appear preoccupied. She didn’t feel up for going back to her seat just yet.

Then it hit her: she had yet to come across Killian or his brother. Hadn’t he said they were coming?

A hand tapped Emma’s shoulder just as she began looking through the crowd for a familiar face. She turned to see bright blue eyes and that smile she’d become so partial to. “Hello, Swan.”

All of the tension seemed to leave her when he said her name. “Hey, Killian.” He wore a well-fitting navy suit with a crisp white shirt. How he kept finding things to wear that made his eyes look even more blue was lost to her. “Nice ceremony, huh?”

“Aye. I believe that was the most enthusiastic kiss I’ve ever witnessed at a wedding.”

“This is Ruby we’re talking about. There was little chance of her keeping things PG, wedding or not.”

“A valid point.”

He looked over to her friends’ table where she’d been sitting earlier. “I hope I’m not keeping you from your friends. I’d been looking for you and wanted to speak while I had a moment.”

“No, you’re not. I was honestly trying to avoid them. Let’s just say they’d brought up a subject I wasn’t up for discussing today,” she continued at his questioning look‍.

“That’s certainly understandable. In that case, I’m willing to distract you for as long as you may need it.”

“Okay, weird question. Your brother’s here, right?”

“He is. Although I’m not quite sure why you think that’s an odd thing to ask.”

“Well, that’s what I was getting to. I got the idea at The Rabbit Hole last week that he has a thing for Elsa?”

“That’s an understatement. Liam has been absolutely smitten since he was introduced to her at the Miner’s Day celebration back in the spring. But I don’t believe he’s made much of an effort to get to know her. He’s never come out and said as much to me, but thanks to a few bad experiences he’s had with dating over the past few years, it seems he thinks that she wouldn’t be interested since he has a child.’

She wasn’t sure just how to respond to that, mostly because she understood. The more a person had lost and been hurt, the harder it became to open your heart back up to something (or, in this case, someone) new again. And, truly, she didn’t know how Elsa would feel about potentially dating a single father. But she did know that both she and Liam deserved to be happy.

“I obviously can't speak for Elsa or her feelings, but I can put in a good word for Liam if you don't think he'd mind me intervening.”

(Had she gone and turned into Mary Margaret?)

Killian's answering smile made her stomach swoop in a way that had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol in the punch. He was just unfairly attractive and she liked seeing him happy, that was all. “I think he'd appreciate that quite a bit. And even if he did mind, I'm sure he wouldn't anymore if it works in his favor.”

She returned to her table a moment later, this time taking the empty chair next to Elsa rather than the one she'd been sitting in before. “Hey. So, I have a question.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“You remember that day when you saw Killian for the first time and you made that comment about him having a brother?”

Elsa glanced at her and raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“Well, you're in luck. He does have an older brother, Liam. Apparently you met him at the Miner’s Day festival.”

“Wait, that Liam? He's Killian’s brother?”

“So you remember him?”

“Yes, I do. I just remember thinking there had to be some kind of catch for him to be so good looking, a wife or a criminal past or something.”

“There's no criminal past that I know of, and no wife. But he is a widower and a dad to a little girl. Would you be okay with that?”

Elsa pursed her lips. “It's not something I've given much thought to. I don't think I've ever dated someone with a kid before. But if he’s a good guy, and a good dad to his daughter, I see no reason to object.”

“I was hoping you’d say something like that.” She looked back over to where she’d left Killian at the punch bowl, where he now stood talking to Liam. Smiling at Elsa, she nodded in their direction. “He’s over there with Killian now if you want an excuse to go get another drink. You kind of know Killian already from the store, and something tells me it won’t be hard for you to get introduced.”

Her smile grew as Elsa’s face lit up. “I am getting thirsty. If you’ll excuse me.” She stood and went over to the brothers, not even remembering to take her cup with her.

Emma watched as she spoke to Killian first, then turned to Liam, obviously feigning ignorance. Killian’s gestures indicated he was making introductions between the two of them. She couldn’t see Liam’s face since his back was turned to her, but Killian shot her a wink that said all she needed to know.

She eagerly anticipated hearing details about the meeting from Elsa at work the next day, not wanting to ask intrusive questions, but hoping her boss would choose to bring it up. All she mentioned was that Liam was “just as charming as his brother” and had made a comment about hoping he’d see her at the town’s fall festival the night before Halloween. But there was color to her cheeks and a gleam in her eye when she spoke of it.

Killian’s first delivery of the week happened on Wednesday, the day Emma turned twenty-eight. Per her request, Elsa and Anna had kept the surprises minimal, although there was a cupcake in the break room she looked forward to eating on her lunch break. Chocolate was a hard thing to object, even if she objected everything else about the day in question.

Seeing the familiar truck turn the corner, Emma went to open the front door and wait for Killian as she usually did. Was it weird for her to do that? She was just trying to make his delivery easier. And maybe she looked forward to seeing him. Because they were friends.

It was odd not to see him pulling in a hand truck, but instead carrying a single package. “Good morning, love.”

“Hey. Is that all today?”

“Aye. Don’t be alarmed, though. I’m sure I’ll have at least a dozen for you next time.”

“You’re probably right.” She took the package from him, looking for a name on the return address. It was just boring office supplies.

Checking to make sure Elsa wasn’t out on the floor, she asked “Has Liam said anything about Sunday? My boss is being minimal with the details.”

Killian barked out a laugh. “My brother has been anything but minimal. I haven’t heard him speak of anything else since. I’d give him hell about it if I wasn’t so glad to see him happy, even if they’ve only had one real conversation together.”

“Sometimes one conversation might be all it takes.”

It was when she was signing her name on the diad (and feeling proud of herself for remembering it’s actual name) that the idea came to her. “Killian? Are you doing anything tonight?”

He considered it for a moment. “Nothing besides going home after my shift and finding something on TV to entertain me for a bit. Why do you ask?”

“Would you maybe want to come over and watch a movie? As friends,” she quickly added, hoping he wouldn’t detect any desperation in her voice. “I was going to order pizza and find something to watch, and just figured it would be nice to have the company. I mean, don’t feel obligated or anything if you have something better to do. I just thought I’d offer.”

His following silence and perplexed expression were enough to make her regret asking. She’d made it clear that it was meant to be strictly friendly, but maybe the invitation still hadn’t come across the way she’d wanted it to.

But then after what felt like an eternity (probably a few seconds in actuality), a grin broke out across his face. “I would like nothing more, Swan. As long as you’re sure I wouldn’t be imposing on you.”

“Of course not. You’ll probably be doing me a favor by not making me eat the pizza alone since I can never finish it all and get stuck with leftovers for, like, five days afterward.”

“In that case, I expected to be well-compensated for my assistance.”

She refused to let her mind run away with that idea in public. “We’ll see.”

Emma then remembered she didn’t have as much as a phone number for him. All of their interactions so far had been face to face. “Here.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, opened the screen to start a new text, and handed it to him. “Put your number in there, and I’ll text you my address. Not that it’s that hard to find in a town this small, but still. Six-thirty work for you?”

“Sounds great. I look forward to it.”

By that evening, she was equal parts excited and terrified. She’d spent most of the day wondering if inviting him over had been a mistake. Not because she didn’t want to spend time with him, but because of how many things could go wrong.

There was a knock on the door at six twenty-eight. Emma took a deep breath and went to answer it, glancing at herself in the hall mirror and hoping she didn’t look like she was having an internal crisis.

“You’re right on time.”

“Of course. It would be bad form to keep a lady waiting.”

“Honestly, where did you learn to talk like that?”

“A number of different places. My mum had a penchant for Jane Austen, for one. Liam and I were forced to sit through that bloody BBC series so many times I practically had it memorized by the time I was ten years old.” He rolled his eyes but laughed when he spoke.

At least she knew that’s where the hand kissing had come from. “I’m partial to the 2005 movie myself. What does she think about that one?”

Killian’s smile vanished. “I’m afraid I don’t know. She passed that same year.”

“Oh my gosh. Killian, I’m so-”

He dismissed the attempted apology. “It’s alright, Swan. You didn’t know. She was sick for quite some time, but she did ensure my grammar skills were impeccable.”

“That they are. And speaking of impeccable, the pizza place was running a special. So I got garlic knots too.” Food was her go to method for deflecting awkwardness, it seemed.

“You’re quickly learning the way to my heart.”

They settled onto opposite ends of her couch with the pizza box and bag of garlic knots between them, not even bothering with plates. Emma turned on the TV and opened Netflix. Her first suggestion was going to be Love Actually, but maybe something without Colin Firth would be a better option after what he’d just shared with her.

“I’ve learned without having to ask that 2000s rom coms seem to be a guilty pleasure for you too. Any suggestions?”

“I’m open to anything. Although I did see Love Actually was back on Netflix if you’re not one of those people who thinks it’s too early for Christmas movies.”

Huh. Maybe she’d been wrong. And maybe he was a mind reader.

“Are you kidding? It’s never too early for Christmas movies.”

“As I just said, you are learning the way to my heart.”

Almost everything she learned about Killian continued to surprise her. And there was so much more she wanted to know. How he took his coffee, what his favorite subject in school had been, if he spoke any other languages, topics he had strong opinions on. He was like an addictive prologue that made her want to stop and binge read the rest of the story.

They sat in comfortable silence for the first half hour or so of the movie, eating the pizza and garlic knots and occasionally making a comment about a specific scene or line.

“What’s your favorite storyline?” she asked him. “And please don’t say the Alan Rickman one, or I’ll be forced to question this friendship.”

“Of course not. He was a bloody wanker to his wife. No one deserves to be treated like that.”

“Okay, good. Friendship officially saved.”

He let out a dramatic sigh of relief. Emma laughed and rolled her eyes. “In all seriousness, however, I do quite like Jamie and Aurélia’s story. They’re able to fall in love despite an inability to communicate, and then he goes and learns another language for the sake of confessing his feelings. It’s quite romantic.”

Of all the things about Killian that she’d learned so far, this surprised her the least. Of course he’d be the romantic type, maybe not with flowers and chocolate and other material things, but in his actions, the things he would do to to show someone they were loved.

“What about you, Swan?” His voice broke her train of thought. “Your favorite storyline, I mean.”

Oh, right. They’d been having a conversation. “That’s easy. David and Natalie.”

“Because of Hugh Grant?” he teased.

“No. Because she got the kind of support I wanted when he found out about everything with the president.” He placed the blame where it was due and never expected the victim to take responsibility for a horrible man’s decisions.

Killian’s smile instantly faded. “Bloody hell. I’m sorry, love. I should have been more considerate.”

“No, it’s fine. Really,” she continued when he attempted to protest. “I mean, that whole situation in itself isn’t fine, but I know you didn’t mean anything by asking. It’s just...well, frankly, today’s not a great day for me and I guess it’s made me reflect on all of it a lot more than usual.”

He pursed his lips before he spoke. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

Here goes nothing, she thought. “Well, today’s my birthday. I didn’t mention it before because it’s not something I really like having a lot of attention on. To be frank, I don’t have a family, I never have. I was found on the side of the road right after I was born and grew up in foster care. The only reason I was able to go to college was because I lucked out and got a scholarship through the high school. And you already know how that ended.

“Don’t get me wrong, I know I have a lot of great things in my life that I’m thankful for. I have friends who are like family to me. I have a job, that, despite my frustrations with it, still pays the bills and keeps me on my feet. But today makes it hard for me not to wonder where I could be now if things had gone differently. If my parents had kept me, if a family had wanted to adopt me, if my first love hadn’t been the kind of man to make me question every bit of my worth. Along with every other decision I’ve ever made.”

She turned to him. “I’m sorry to invite you over and then dump all of this on you. I honestly wasn’t intending on bringing any of it up. I just knew I didn’t want to be alone tonight, and, well, you seem to understand me a lot more than most people do.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Emma’s heart dropped and she felt her palms grow clammy. She’d finally done it. She’d said too much and was pushing him away without even trying.

Just as she was preparing a long, drawn out apology, Killian broke the silence. “You know Liam and I lost our mother. She took us and left our sorry excuse of a father when we were young, and we lived in Boston until she passed. Despite the fact that I was nearly grown, Liam felt as if he had to look out for me for years after. I enlisted in the Navy both because I couldn’t think of a better option after school, and so he could feel he had the freedom to go to nursing school like he’d always wanted.

“My first few years are a bit of a blur now. I was still consumed with grief over losing Mum, and turned to whatever I could to avoid facing it — drinking, gambling, women. Whatever could distract me. Things went on like that until I met Milah when I was twenty-three and stationed on the West Coast. She was older, adventurous, free-spirited, everything my own demons kept me from being. She was also married, something I knew from the beginning but promptly ignored until I was in too deep.”

Emma listened as he explained how he received news that he would be transferred back to the northeast. How he’d gone to Milah and asked her to come with him so they could have a fresh start together. Instead, he’d been crushed when she objected — despite whatever connection the two of them had, she couldn’t leave her husband and their life behind.

“And that was it. I assumed there was no chance of me convincing her otherwise, despite how much I wanted to. So I left and went on to my next post. I’d been there less than two weeks before I heard from one of my old mates that she’d been killed in a boating accident.”

If she’d thought her heart couldn’t sink any lower, she was wrong. “Oh, Killian.”

“I was a wreck for months. I told myself if I’d tried harder, if I’d fought for us, that she might have come with me and would have still been alive. The only thing that kept me from spiraling back into grief was Liam. When he found out, he threatened to leave school to make sure I didn’t go off the deep end. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I got in the way of his dream. And I started driving. I can’t explain how or why, but being out on the road gave me the release I hadn’t been able to find elsewhere.”

He reached over and took her hand in his. “My point behind all this, Swan, is yes, I do understand you. Our pasts may be different where circumstances are concerned, but I know all too well the feeling of questioning how your life could have been different or if you’re where you’re supposed to be. It’s okay to be confused or even upset about how some things have turned out, but I really hope you won’t think less of yourself for it.”

It was difficult to hold back the tears she felt pricking her eyes. She had no desire to cry in front of him after everything else, even though she knew he wouldn’t judge her for it. “How do you always know exactly what to say to me?”

“It’s like you said, love: you and I, we understand each other.” He considered the thought again. “Then again, maybe it’s just all part of my instinctive charm.”

She rolled her eyes and whacked his shoulder with a throw pillow.

Long after the movie ended and Killian had left, Emma found herself lying awake in bed as she considered their earlier conversation. She’d known he was nothing like Neal before she opened up and told him about her past. (Truthfully, she’d known he was a better man than Neal from the day they’d met.) Still, the way he listened, accepted her for who she was, and tried to encourage her when she needed it was nothing like she’d expected.

She also didn’t expect that abnormal thing her pulse did when the UPS truck arrived at Crystalline now. Or when he’d taken her hand earlier. Or when he smiled, laughed, or even so much as cracked a corny joke in her presence.

Everything she’d wanted but had never been able to find with Graham.

Shit. Had she really gone and fallen for her UPS driver?

The answer, she soon learned, was an absolute yes.

Killian was constantly on her mind over the next few days. She thought of him every time she passed a UPS truck on the road, or when one of the literary memes pages she followed on Instagram posted something related to Pride & Prejudice. And his deliveries, which were already one of the better parts of her work days, soon became something she eagerly awaited, despite feeling silly for it.

Emma only hoped that if there had been a shift in her demeanor or actions since the revelation on her birthday that he wouldn’t notice.

And he wasn’t the only thing often on her mind, either. She wasn’t even looking for writing opportunities when one fell into her lap. She’d been online, researching the English and creative writing programs at a handful of colleges in Portland, more for curiosity’s sake than anything else. It was still uncertain when or even if she would be able to go back, but there was no harm in looking, right? That's when she found the promotion for a Young Fiction Writing contest open to residents of Maine under 30.

A few months ago, she might have glanced over the details and moved on. But something made her stop and carefully read through the description and guidelines. It wasn't necessarily the particular contest itself that stood out to her; it was standard as far as events like it were concerned.

No, what stood out to Emma was the confidence she hadn't felt in years when it came to writing. Because, for once, her immediate reaction wasn't thoughts of doubt or self loathing. She felt as if she could actually get it a shot. Even though the deadline was less than a week away.

Within minutes, she'd bookmarked the posting and opened the word document for a short story she'd written about seventy percent of before abandoning it several months earlier. It was an adventure story about a runaway princess who leaves home after a dictator takes over her kingdom, and finds unexpected romance with a reformed pirate as they team up to overthrow him.

She had never even finished plotting the last quarter of the story. It was part of her cycle of getting excited about an idea, writing part of it, and then giving up at some point thanks to doubt and insecurity.

But cycles could be broken.

For the rest of the night, she went back and forth between her laptop and the notebook she used to jot down story ideas and managed to come up with the bare bones for the remainder of the story. The rest of the details could be filled in along the way; she had what she really needed.

The next few days passed in a blur of working, helping prepare for the town’s fall festival, and spending hours in front of her laptop in attempt to finish her story before the contest deadline.

And somehow, she managed to do it all. After one last read-through to catch any technical errors she might have missed before, Emma submitted her contest entry less than an hour before the midnight deadline.

The chances of her winning anything was minimal, she’d known that from the beginning, especially since she’d thrown together the last bit of the story so quickly. But that wasn’t important to her now. She had done it. She’d finished a story for the first time in months, years maybe, and that alone meant more to her than any prize.

And she couldn’t wait to tell Killian.

She had hoped he would be making a delivery the next morning so she could tell him first thing. Of course there was always the option of sending him a text, but she wanted to tell him in person considering how significant his encouragement had been to her wanting to write again in the first place.

At least she knew he would be attending the fall festival that night with Liam and Harper. Surely she could find a moment to talk to him while Liam was off romancing Elsa.

Since there was no delivery, she spent the rest of the day on pins and needles waiting for the festivities to start that evening. Elsa and Anna closed Crystalline a few hours early, and at six, the three of them walked to the town square where the event was being held. The space was packed with both people and various attractions, but Emma’s only concern was locating a familiar head of dark hair and blue eyes.

After half an hour of wandering around through vendors and game booths, she finally spotted him at the face painting table with Liam, and a little girl with her father’s dark curls that was having a unicorn painted on her cheek, courtesy of Belle.

She came up behind Killian and tapped him on the shoulder. “Please tell me you’re getting a matching unicorn on your cheek too. It would really bring out the blue in your eyes.”

“Hello, Swan. And, as much as I hate to disappoint you, the answer is no. With my luck, I wouldn’t be able to wash it all off and wouldn’t hear the end of it during my stops tomorrow.”

Emma sighed dramatically. “What a shame. I guess I’ll never get to find out what a cute Brony you would have been.”

She and Liam laughed at Killian’s objection as Liam took his daughter’s hand and suggested he take her to the pumpkin carving table.

When they had left, Emma turned back to Killian. “What are the chances he only wanted to carve a pumpkin because he knows Elsa is over there helping Anna and Kristoff?”

“Pretty likely I’d say. I can’t wait to tease him about it during my speech at their wedding.”

“I will most definitely hold you to that. Oh! I had something to tell you,” she said, remembering why she’d been so eager to find him in the first place. “So, long story short, I finished writing something for the first time in ages, and submitted it to this writing contest thing I found online. I’m not expecting to win or anything, but all that matters to me is that I did it.” She couldn’t hold back her smile. “And I really felt like I needed to thank you, because I’m not sure I would have done it if you hadn’t encouraged me so much and made me feel like I could have a purpose outside of being a retail manager.”

The massive grin on his face made her pulse do that thing she still wasn’t sure was completely normal. Or safe. “That’s wonderful, love. I don’t think you truly needed me to make any of that happen, but I’m honored I was able to help all the same.”

“Help is an understatement. Trust me.” She could go into a long, emotional speech about the number of things he’d helped her see differently, but she’d save that for another time, one when they weren’t surrounded by everyone in Storybrooke.

But their present circumstances didn’t stop her from taking an additional leap of faith, not unlike the one she’d taken by inviting him over on her birthday. “Will you go out with me?”

Killian’s eyes widened as if wondering if he’d heard her correctly. “Come again?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just figured that while I’m on a streak of doing things I wouldn’t normally have the guts to, maybe I should keep it up before I lose my nerve.”

His brow furrowed and he placed a hand under his chin like he was deep in thought. “Hmm. I’ll accept on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“You let me take you out to dinner, but we’re having pizza, garlic knots, and cinnamon twists.”

Maybe he was a man after her own heart too. “With an offer like that, I think I’d be a fool to say no.”

#cs ff #meredith writes #cs au #cs fluff #captain swan ff #captain swan #csseptembersunshine #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfiction

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spine-buster · 5 years

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Alone, Together | Chapter 8 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: This is a little bit of filler / a little bit of insight into Bee, but I promise things are going to pick up a bit from here :) Thank you again for all your lovely asks, comments, reblogs, and more! A quick reminder that I respond to all messages and asks about my fics, so if you have any questions or comments, don’t be afraid to send them my way.

It was the Toronto Maple Leafs’ home opener.

Despite an essay being due that day at 5pm, and despite another assignment being due in two days, one worth a whopping 40% of her mark, Bee had promised Morgan she would be there. ‘It would mean a lot to me’ he had told her one night after they had finished a steamy round of sex at her place. ‘It would mean the world to me if you could be there.’

How could she say no to him as she was wrapped up in his arms and entangled with his body? How could she say no when his voice was so soft, his intentions so pure, his heart so full? How could she say no to watching him do what he loved? It was the easiest yes she ever told someone. The biting of his lip to suppress his earnest smile afterwards made her want to blow him for the entire fucking night if it meant the smile never left his face.

Bee always had five-year plans. They began when she was eleven years old and browsing the internet at her local public library about how to live apart from an alcoholic parent. Almost all of the websites she found talked about living with another relative, but she didn’t have any. Then the words ‘legal emancipation’ came up. This was Bee’s first five-year plan: document everything her mother did (or, in reality, didn’t do) to have a case in court that she should be withdrawn from her mother’s parental control. She was successful. Because Bee voluntarily withdrew parental support and left home, her mother wasn’t legally obligated to support her – which was exactly what she wanted. No more contact with a mother who would spend money on alcohol instead of food or decent shelter. No more obligations to a mother who, by her own inaction, forced Bee to start fending for herself at an age most kids were still playing with dolls or kitchen sets. No more vulnerability exposed to a woman whose severe alcoholism didn’t make her care at all about her own daughter, however wanted or unwanted she was. No more addiction. No more alcohol.

Once she was legally emancipated from her mother, Bee’s second five-year plan, which spanned ages 17-21, came into effect: get into university, then get into grad school. She got a job as a cashier at a grocery store and worked after school and weekends to earn enough money to rent out a room in the basement of a house near her school. She got letters of reference from her teachers for little-known scholarships not many people would be applying to. She maintained a high enough average that U of T gave her an academic scholarship to cover about half her tuition. When she won the other scholarships, she was safe in knowing her tuition would be covered and she wouldn’t have to incur debt or other loans.

She was currently in the middle of her third five-year plan: get into grad school, graduate with a job offer, and work. At 22 years old, she was on the right path to achieving it. If all went well – which it had to – her fourth five-year plan would come into effect: work hard to get at least one promotion, save enough money, and buy a place.

The plans were contingent on some things working out for her – like keeping her current apartment at the rent she was already paying and getting a job as soon as January when she didn’t have to attend classes anymore – but she knew she would be able to do it. She worked hard so that everything ‘worked out’ before. There was no reason it couldn’t work out again. And again.

What the plans were not contingent on was her meeting someone. They were not contingent meeting Morgan Rielly of West Vancouver, British Columbia, and actually becoming, as corny as it sounded, completely smitten with him. The plans did not include making out on his couch for hours, falling asleep in his bed while watching Netflix, or having a game on in the background while she marked. The plans did not include spending a good three hours researching everything to do with hockey and the Toronto Maple Leafs so she could, even just slightly, begin to understand his life.

But she was letting him in. Fast. He was quickly becoming a part of her life, an established part of her life. So established, apparently, that she agreed to go to his home opening game without so much as a second thought.

The energy inside Scotiabank Arena was palpable. Bee cheered and clapped along with the rest of the fans, family members, wives, and girlfriends in attendance as the announcer was introducing the team. She made sure to scream extra loud when Morgan’s name was called, and she noticed how loud the arena got when John Tavares was announced. From beside her, John’s wife Aryne couldn’t stop filming the reaction. They were opening their season against the Montreal Canadiens, and Bee knew she had to boo them because they were one of the team’s oldest rivals. A Canadiens player scored the first goal, but the energy wasn’t sucked out of the building at all. In fact, it came right back about three minutes later when Auston scored a goal to tie it. When Aryne pointed out that Morgan got an assist on the goal, Bee screamed even louder.

When the first period ended, Bee remembered that she had twenty minutes to spare before the second began. As she watched some of the other wives and family members get up to go to the washroom, she looked down at her messenger bag and then to Aryne. She wondered if it was appropriate to take out her laptop and work in between periods. Did anyone else ever do that? She was sure that in the entire history of hockey, there had to be one girl who took out a book or notebook or laptop and focused her attention on something other than hockey. Getting an education never looked bad, right? “Aryne…”

“Yeah babe?” she answered absent-mindedly while looking down at her phone.

“Do you think…I mean would it look bad…” Bee began.

Aryne finished typing her text before locking her phone and looking at Bee. “Would what look bad?”

“I…have…I have homework,” Bee said, completely embarrassed.

“Oh my God! Are you joking! Take that stuff out right now!” Aryne cried. “You have homework? What are you working on?”

“Richard Thaler’s theory of behavioural economics.”

“You take it out right now and start working,” Aryne demanded like a mother. “You’ll be setting a good example. Some of these girls need to be doing homework instead of filming themselves drinking wine for the Instagram stories.”

Bee snorted. “You’re something else, Aryne.”

“I’m being serious. I’m trying to be less judgemental as a whole, but I still can’t help but feel snippy about dropping out of school to be an Instagram model with a YouTube channel,” she said. “I went to McMaster and got a bachelor of science in kinesiology, then I got my Master’s from Queen’s in physiotherapy. All while John was playing hockey in New York. You don’t need to be shy about breaking out a laptop with a 100-page PDF because I know that feeling.”

Bee couldn’t help but think back to what Angie had expressed when she and Mason found out Bee was dating a hockey player. ‘All those girls wearing Aritzia on King West, all those Instagram model girls are looking for people like him.’ Yet she was the one here for Morgan, not an Instagram model. Were things changing? Was it still out of the realm of possibility in this day and age, where so many people went to university, that a hockey player could date a girl smarter than him, with two degrees? Aryne proved it wasn’t an anomaly. So did Alannah. She was sure other women did too. She wasn’t so out of place after all, was she?

“Okay, thanks Aryne,” Bee smiled, not feeling as bad about it anymore as she dug into her bag to get her laptop.

“I’m going to run to the washroom but I can grab you something if you want?” Aryne asked as she stood up from her seat. “Some wine, maybe? Behavioural economics sounds…tedious.”

“I’ll be okay. Thanks though.”

As Aryne left, Bee focused her attention on exactly what Aryne had predicted: a PDF about behavioural economics that was required reading for the assignment she was working on. Family members around her mixed and mingled with each other as she zoned in, conceptualizing the theory in her head and adding some notes to her assignment. She knew she wasn’t going to get the entire thing done within the two intermissions she would be given, but it helped. Anything helped.

During the second period, John Tavares scored his first goal as a Maple Leaf and the entire arena, including Aryne, went nuts. She couldn’t stop jumping and dancing around, and she even stood on her seat and stretched up to high-five John’s parents, who were sitting two rows above them. And though the game went into overtime, it was poetic justice when Auston Matthews scored the game winner. It couldn’t have been a more perfecting ending, a more perfect start to the season. The Leafs beat their rivals.

Bee could start to understand, at the most miniscule scale, how and why people loved hockey so much. If they got to feel like this because of the team on any given basis, she would be a die-hard fan too. She knew there were probably some not-so-great times, and she knew sports were a lot more complicated than this simple understanding she had right now, but it was interesting to see this side of things – this world she didn’t have privy too growing up, or even now. If she hadn’t have met Morgan, she didn’t think she would have ever been able to experience this. It was fun and exciting and confusing and daunting all at once – much like everything else in her life up until this point. After having to figure out life and survival on her own, having people like Morgan, Ashley, Alannah, and Aryne to guide her into this new foray was a welcome blessing.

When the game was finished, Bee followed everybody backstage where they patiently waited for the boys to be done with interviews and other post-game happenings. Bee was chatty with Ashley and Alannah when they boys started to file out. Like the pre-season game, when Morgan made his way through the doorway, his hair was a dishevelled mess. He looked so cute. He immediately found her in the crowd of people and made his way over.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a smile, bending down to kiss her quickly. She still had his jersey on and, stereotypically, it was his favourite look on her. The way her brown hair fell over the letters of his last name somehow drove him crazy.

“What a game!” she smiled excitedly. “Auston’s first goal! And you assisted!”

“I know, Bee.”

“And then John! First one as a Leaf! Then overtime! Auston again!” she recounted the game to him as if he wasn’t there.

He nodded his head and his smile got wider with every exclamation from her. “You’re buzzin’ right now,” he laughed. “Buzzin’ like a bumblebee.” Seeing her so giddy about a game of hockey made him ecstatic.

“It was a great game!” she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “The crowd loved it too!”

“Did you bring homework?” he asked unexpectedly as he noticed her bag.

“Y…Yes?” she answered apprehensively. “Remember how I told you I have that assignment all about behavioural economics…” she tried to explain herself.

“Atta girl,” he whispered, dipping down to kiss her again. “You ready to go? Wanna come over mine?”

She shook her head at his request. “I’ve got class at nine in the morning tomorrow,” she explained. She thought about whether or not she should add the second part. “You want to…uh…come over mine instead?”

“See ya guys later,” Morgan announced to everyone, giving a big wave to everyone before grabbing Bee’s hand and pulling her along with him. She laughed, knowing this is the exact same exit strategy he took last time when they left during the pre-season game.

As they made their way to the Scotiabank Arena’s underground parking lot, Morgan continued to hold her hand until they got to his car. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for her before walking around and getting into the driver’s seat. He started the car, but instead of backing out of his parking space, he just looked at Bee. When she noticed they weren’t moving, she looked over to see him staring. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“C’mere,” he whispered. She leaned over the centre console and he kissed her gently, bringing his hand up underneath her shin. He gave her a few more kisses. “Thank you for being here,” he whispered.

“It was a lot of fun,” she reiterated her sentiments from earlier.

“I know, but I really mean it,” he said. “I get how you like to be alone so I know it’s a lot for you to come to these things. I know it takes a lot of like, energy or whatever, especially for introverts, to be around big groups of people…so thank you,” he whispered.

With every kiss and with every comment like that he made to her, it was getting harder and harder for her to ‘take things slow’ and ‘not put a label on it’. Her words. She was humbly aware that they had only met in late July. She was humbly aware that since then, in all of their interactions and dates and adult-themed sleepovers, they hadn’t fought once. She was humbly aware that with each passing day, he was carving out a place in her life she hadn’t made room for; one that he nestled into comfortably, without disruption, without fanfare. Like he was always meant to be there.

She was also humbly aware that with each passing day, now that the season had started, it was going to get harder. She would miss him when he was gone. She wouldn’t be able to see him as often because of traveling, or because of practice, or because of the schedule of game days.

“I’ll always come and support you,” she said. “I know you’d do the same if I played hockey too or whatever. Plus most of the girls are great. They’re very warm and welcoming and it doesn’t feel…I don’t know, tiring to be there, or be with them. I might have to ask you for some extra tickets sometime though so I can bring Angie and Mason.”

“You just tell me when,” he gave her one last quick kiss before finally reversing out of the spot.

When they finally arrived back at Bee’s apartment, Morgan undressed while she washed her face and brushed her hair in the washroom. He stripped down to only his boxers before getting into her bed, lying down with the covers half-draped over his body.

“I thought your backcheck was good tonight,” she said from the washroom.

Morgan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did the word ‘backcheck’ just leave her mouth? In the right way? In the appropriate context? “Um, excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she said as she appeared in the doorway, brushing her hair and sweeping it over one shoulder. “Your backcheck was good. Like, I know you’re a defenseman, so that’s kind of your job…I think…but I looked for it tonight and thought it looked good. Better than the pre-season game I went to.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Briony McTavish?”

“Shut up!” she giggled, throwing her hairbrush back into the washroom before making her way towards the bed.

When she climbed in, Morgan’s grabby-hands went into full effect, guiding her body towards his. He only meant to cuddle and be close to her, but Bee took it as an invitation to climb on top of him. He wasn’t exactly complaining. “Where’d you learn all that?” he asked. Despite being genuinely curious, he couldn’t help but be more interested in the feeling of her straddling him on her bed. His hands caressed her exposed thighs and squeezed at the flesh. Her pajama shorts were riding high. Morgan licked his lips at the thought of what they could get up to. He wondered if she could feel him getting hard beneath her.

“I studied,” she grazed her fingertips lightly over his chest.

“You what?”

“Mhm,” she giggled slightly. “It’s what I do best, Morgan. I researched and I studied. I even know who Mike Babcock is now.”

“Well you know what…” he said, his hands wandering from her thighs to her hips, grabbing at the flesh there, too. If it were up to him he would grow extra arms to be able to touch every inch of her body. “I studied too.”

“You did?”

“Mhm.”

“And what did you learn?”

He gave her a look. “Macroeconomics.”

She giggled at the tone he used, how nefarious the look on his face was. “Oh.”

“I have something even better,” he winked. He propped himself up so he could get even closer to her. He gave her a quick peck on the lips before continuing. “Microeconomics.”

She snorted, unable to hold in her giggles. “Talk dirty to me, baby.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he mumbled as he began kissing her, leaving a trail along her jawline to her ear. His hands traveled to her thighs again, but this time slipped in between the gaps of her shorts. “Karl Marx,” he continued, biting down on her skin.

“You know how to make a girl horny, don’t you?” she tried her hardest to stop laughing, but her attempt was futile.

“The proletariat and the bourgeoisie,” Morgan continued.

“Oh my God Morgan,” she chastised him. He was beginning to sound like a first-year economics student who thought they already knew everything. He bit down on the skin of her neck while simultaneously slipping his hands underneath her shirt, pulling it up. “Morgan.”

He kissed his way back up to her ear. “Alan Greenspan.”

“NO!” she exclaimed immediately. The mention of Alan Greenspan definitely did not get her off. She broke out into a fit of laughter. “ABORT MISSION!”

“AH!” the look on Morgan’s face was one of pure fear. “Oh, um, KEYNESIAN ECONOMICS!”

“Yes! That’s better!”

“Social safety net!” he exclaimed again.

She began to cackle from laughing so hard at the absurdity of it all. She fell beside him, giggling like a man woman. She could feel her eyes well with tears for how hard she was laughing. “There’s something wrong with you,” she managed to giggle out.

“Stop trying to get me to lose my momentum!” he accused her. His large body hovered over hers as his hand found her hips again. He began kissing her again; light feathery kisses along her jawline and neck as his fingertips traced their way along the elastic band of her shorts. “I’m trying to seduce you here.”

“It works when you mention Karl Marx and the proletariat.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirked at her response. She nodded her head. “I gotta brush up on my reading of the Communist Manifesto then.”

“I’m more of a Das Kapital girl myself.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Okay, who’s getting the economics degree here again?” he posed the question, garnering another laugh from her. “Should I start signing up for classes? Don’t start treating me like one of your first-year students.”

“I don’t know,” Bee rolled her eyes playfully. “Might get to boss you around a little bit.”

Morgan’s eyes lit up. “I like the sound of that. Gives me an uprising in my pants.”

Bee cackled again, pushing his body off her. Morgan collapsed onto her side, laughing at the silliness of it all. The mood was ruined but her heart was full. She couldn’t believe it. “You’re something else, Morgan Rielly.”

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #alone together series

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astudyinfic · 5 years

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My contribution for @ficletinstruments Week 14 “Grocery Shopping”

Luke responds to a call, hoping and praying that his kids aren’t the ones involved.

General Luke & Clary & Simon, Rated G

Originally posted on AO3

When the call came over the radio for a disturbance at a store not far from his apartment, Luke called in. He was in the area and this sounded easier than most of the situations he dealt with at work. Being a police officer did not bring you into contact with a lot of good people. Or the good ones you did meet were generally having spectacularly awful days.

No one was happy to see him coming. He understood that.

Flipping on the lights of his car, he took off down the street to the store where he frequently shopped with Jocelyn and Clary. Luke knew the store well, was on a first-name basis with most of the employees, and the last thing he wanted was for something terrible to happen there. He hoped Jocelyn was at home and Clary was out with Simon and none of them were anywhere near the store.

But, as Luke turned the corner to pull up in front of the shop, his tune changed.

The radio crackled back to life. “Be advised, witness is reporting culprits are two teenagers.” Luke jumped out of the car, wracking his memory for any time Simon might have said he had a gig that night.

Please let him have a gig. Please let him have a gig. Don’t let this be them.

Brooklyn was a big neighborhood. There was a chance it wasn’t Clary and Simon but... Luke didn’t raise those hellions and not know a thing or two about the trouble they could cause.

Inside the store, everything seemed in order. One customer was checking out and while she and cashier kept glancing towards the back of the store, it was otherwise just an average evening. The cashier met his eyes and nodded to the back. “They’re back there, I think. Give it a minute and you’ll hear them.”

Luke held his breath and took one step towards the back of the store when he heard it.

“Hold on, Fray!”

“Come on, Lewis! Just do it!”

He let out a long, slow sigh; the sigh of a parent who knew their kids were always up to no good but wanted to believe that maybe just this one time, it wasn’t them. The sigh of a parent only ended up disappointed, once more. A moment later, the cart raced past him.

Red hair flying behind the passenger as she shrieked in delight.

Glasses falling off the one pushing as he sprinted as best he could.

Neither saw him and Luke shook his head in disbelief for a moment before shouting, “Stop! Police!”

The looks on their faces were comical as they skidded to a halt, recognizing the tone of voice instantly. “Sorry, Luke,” they mumbled as Clary stumbled out of the cart and Simon walked it back to the front.

Luke turned to go smooth things over with the owner. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be too upset.

There was no harm done, just stupid kids having fun.

His stupid kids.

#luke garroway #clary fray #simon lewis #ficletinstruments #jena writes #shadowhunters fic

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purplesurveys · 5 years

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532

Do you have a laptop or desktop computer? I have a laptop. Do you watch America's Got Talent? I watch viral clips on YouTube, but I don’t follow the show. And usually I’d only watch the golden buzzer entries, too. If so, who has been your favorite contestant on AGT? I don’t really have favorites but I remember how refreshing it was to watch Grace VanderWaal’s audition for the first time. What chore are you behind on? My closet is a MESS and I really have to reorganize everything because 3/4 of the time I can’t find the pieces of clothing I want to wear anymore. Which stovetop burner do you use the most? I used to use the leftmost one all the time, but two months ago it had a little explosion while I was trying to cook hotdogs and I’ve never used the stove again since.

What is the last online store you shopped at? I was on the National Bookstore website to look at some history books I wanted to buy. ...and what did you buy? I didn’t get anything. How often do you do laundry? I don’t; my parents prefer to do it themselves. What color pants are you wearing right now? Red, but they’re shorts. I don’t wear pants at home. Have you ever broke your phone screen? I’ve done this to every single phone I’ve owned. Even my iPhone 8′s tempered glass has already scored a few cracks. Have you ever broke your computer screen? My old HP laptop was with me for a very long time so through time it just kind of started deteriorating by itself, laptop screen included. Does your computer monitor currently have a scratch or dent in it? Noooooo no no not this one. I’d protect my Mac to the death haha. Do you wear glasses? I do. ...if yes, how old were you when you got glasses? I was 11 when I got my first pair, but tbh I needed them much earlier. My mom just never believed me when I said I needed glasses when I was 9 because she used to think I just wanted to be fashionable and look like the other kids who had glasses early on. Have you been bored today? Yes, but only for a short time. My mom ran a quick errand this afternoon and I was stuck doing nothing in a drugstore for a bit. What type of milk do you drink? Welp as much as possible I don’t really drink it on the sole basis that I can’t, lmao. I don’t really know the differences, but I think I consume whole whenever I do consume milk. Have you had a headache today? Nope, but I had several ones over the last week. What department store do you shop at the most? I’d typically go to SM malls when I have department store needs. Which grocery store do you shop at the most? I prefer Ayala groceries since they have more high-end and imported stuff than other malls. Do you normally use the self-checkout or the regular checkout? We don’t have ‘self-checkout’ here; I don’t even know what that means. We have cashiers who do the work for us, if that’s what regular checkout means. Do you watch birth vlogs? NO. Watching those just makes me scared. I’d rather experience childbirth on my own when the time comes. Do you have kids? I don’t. Do you know what you want to name your kids? I have one name locked in, and I am 100% considering naming my kid/s after my girlfriend’s parents. I don’t know yet how she’d feel about it but knowing how close she is to them, I think she will be okay with the tribute. Which time of your life do you miss the most? Pre-school, I guess? My biggest worrries were reaching Hi-5 when I would come back home by noon and making sure Swiper didn’t swipe anything from Dora and Boots lmao. Which friend will be in your heart no matter what happens between you two? Gab and Angela. And now, Nacho. Did you watch the first season of American Idol? I didn’t. I started watching only by season 7, with the two Davids. Is it sweater weather yet where you are? Not quite sweater just yet, but it’s starting to be a little chillier in the evenings. Days can still get annoyingly hot, though. What is your most severe allergy? I don’t have any. Do you like your middle name? Middle name can mean two things in the Philippines - it’s either your second given name or your maiden name. I like both of mine, though. What is one thing of yours that is falling apart? The morale I have left for this semester. Do you hate anyone so much that you wish they were dead? The Marcoses. AND SO MANY OTHER POLITICIANS. Have you ever been kicked out of a store? Kinda? My high school friends and I were playing a card game at a McDonald’s a few years ago; they were getting louder as the game progressed, but I was a little more conscious than the rest so I started distancing myself from them and focused on my phone. Eventually an old, cranky man had enough, probably told an employee, and we were asked to leave. What was the stupidest mistake of your life? Not showing enough appreciation for people who are already out of my life. Do you have any regrets? Some, here and there. I don’t like to dwell on them. Who is the most recent friend to have let you down? Those who found it easy to turn their backs on, attack, and cyberbully my now-dead friend and still had the audacity to show up at his wake and shake the hands of his parents, telling him what a great guy he was. Have you ever unfriended a sibling on social media? I blocked my brother on all social media after what he did to me early in the year. He’s gonna stay blocked. Do you watch Niki and Gabi on youtube? I’ve heard of them but never watched anything of theirs nor do I know anything about them other than their names. ...If yes, which twin is your favorite: Niki or Gabi? What is a song that has memories attached to it for you? Some Things Cosmic by Angel Olsen. Do you wish you could relive your 20's? I’ve barely started mine. What is your favorite thing about fall? Have you had the same favorite food/color/holiday since you were a kid? Nope. Before, it was spaghetti/purple/Christmas; it’s burgers/pink/Halloween now. What was the name of your first imaginary friend? Katrina. She was my first and only. What was your favorite book you had to read for school? Without Seeing the Dawn by Stevan Javellana. Did you ever skip class because you hadn't finished your homework? Nooooooo, I hate the idea of missed requirements (in college, at least). I skip class when I’m too lazy or need a sanity break. What do you want for your birthday this year? I already celebrated it. I dreaded my birthday this year and didn’t ask for anything. Do you like rock music? Some. Do you enjoy camping? I’ve never tried. Would you rather sleep in a tent or under the stars? In a tent, because I’m guessing as wonderful as it sounds to sleep under the stars, it might be incredibly itchy? What is the best thing that ever happened to you? I have a lot of memories I can rank as ‘best’ depending on the context. What is your most missed memory? Right now, it’s everything that’s got to do with Nacho. His nickname for me, the song Buwan by juan karlos, all the puns he made, all the songs played at his wake. What is the most beautiful landscape you have ever seen? Batanes. Have you ever witnessed someone else do something embarrassing? Sure. Do you get motion sickness? Yes, and I have them pretty bad, too. I can’t really read in moving vehicles and barely power through when I do have to use my phone while in transport. What do you usually take for headaches? Biogesic. Have you ever switched doctors because of mistreatment? This hasn’t happened to me. Do you film or record your deoctor's appointments? No? Do people do that? Which accomplishment are you most proud of yourself for? I’m proudest for getting into UP. Do you feel like you've accomplished anything yet with your life? Of course, I feel like at this point I can already pat myself on the back for several things. Do you dance in the rain? No, I hate getting wet from the rain. What song do you have stuck in your head right now? I’m listening to the playlist I made for Nach and Wonderwall is currently playing, so by default, it’s stuck in my head. What is your favorite scent for deodorant? Idk I don’t have a favorite scent. As long as it smells pleasant, I guess?? because that’s the point of deodorants??? Were you ever a member of the site Meez? Never even heard of that. Do you ever miss Myspace bulletins? Nope. What is your favorite app on your phone? Currently, it’s Mario Kart Tour.

#survey #surveys

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pftones3482 · 6 years

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Teacher of the Year

Miss Bustier needs a drink, a nap, and a raise.

Under a cut for length. Read it here on AO3!

The night Caline Bustier figured out that Marinette was Ladybug, she sat down at her computer, typed out six different resignation letters that all ended in various scrambles of key smashing, finished two bottles of cheap wine, and ate an entire chocolate cake.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. No one had transformed in front of her, she hadn’t put appearances together, nothing that she figured a normal person would notice.

No, she had happened to be on the site of an akuma attack that afternoon (something about squirrels, it was absurd), and in the aftermath of the chaos, she had asked Ladybug if she could have an autograph for her niece, who was a huge fan of the new hero.

Ladybug had been delighted, written a short little blurb on a piece of paper that Caline had held out, and zipped off on her yo-yo. Caline had thought nothing more of the encounter until she started grading homework that evening.

And Marinette’s handwriting had matched Ladybugs scratch for scratch, right down to the cute little swirls she put on her A’s and L’s.

So yeah, Caline was currently clinging to a third bottle of chardonnay and looking for her misplaced corkscrew on the floor of her pantry. Sue her, she had no idea how to handle this revelation.

It made sense, the longer she thought about it and the more drunk she got. Marinette was always tardy, looked exactly like Ladybug right down to the pigtails, and she had the spirit of a leader like Ladybug did.

She gave up on the corkscrew and leaned against the wall, thumping her head back and shutting her eyes.

Did she tell Marinette that she knew? Help her out? Should she tell her parents? What if they already knew? Did anyone know, or was she the first? Was Chat Noir a student, too?

That thought gave Caline a bigger headache and she groaned, pressing both hands to her forehead and rubbing her temples. No. No way. Chat couldn’t be a student, he didn’t fit any of the students the way that Ladybug did.

Well...

That wasn’t entirely true, when Caline thought of it. Looks wise, he and Adrien could be twins. But he had the personality of Alix and Kim combined with a bit of Alya. If he was a student...Adrien’s absences aligned with Chat’s appearances.

“Nope. Don’t go there, Cal,” the woman grumbled to herself. She pushed to her feet, wobbling a bit and settling her hand on the wall. “Not...do NOT think about Adrien Agreste being a superhero with all that he already has to deal with.”

That didn’t help.

Caline sighed and set the bottle of wine on her kitchen counter, looking back down at the student work in front of her. Marinette’s name curled across her vision, almost mocking, and she huffed, slamming her folder shut.

This was too much for one night.

Caline found a bottle of aspirin, took three, and went to bed.

It wasn’t until Caline got to school the next morning that she realized that she hadn’t finished her grading of the papers. In fact, because she graded them in alphabetical order, she had only gotten about six students done.

She would have pulled them out and finished doing it right then and there (they were just worksheets, after all) but Rose walked in before she could even open her bag, so she resigned herself to a bit of teasing from her students and smiled warmly at the girl.

“Good morning Rose. Did you have a good night?”

Rose grinned and set her bag down on her desk, sinking into her seat and clasping her hands under her chin. ”Oh yes, Miss! I was walking home from Juleka’s and Chat Noir came out of nowhere and offered to walk me home! ME! Can you believe it? He’s so nice,” she sighed, slumping her chin into her hands and staring off with a dreamy smile.

Caline coughed and turned her gaze to her bag, pulling out her attendance sheet and pencil case. “That was...very sweet of him, yes.”

Before Rose could say anything further, Alix and Kim came into the room, bickering as usual with Max close behind them shaking his head. Caline slumped in relief at the ordinary and playfully reminded Alix and Kim to be nice to one another. Their bright smiles assured her that they meant no harm by their fighting, and she turned to write the lesson for the day on the board.

She greeted the students as they came in, in pairs and alone, until the minute hand of the clock was only seconds from the start of the school day.

Everyone was in the room when she turned back and set the chalk down, save for Marinette. Caline raised an eyebrow at the empty seat, shooting a look to Alya, but Alya was leaned over her desk showing a video to Adrien and Nino.

“-patrolling by my house at like, two am! There wasn’t an akuma I missed last night, was there?”

Adrien chuckled. “Doubt it, Als. The whole city would have woken up. She was probably just keeping an eye out.”

Caline frowned. On a school night? She understood when there were akumas, that couldn’t be helped. But just a simple patrol?

She shook it off and cleared her throat, picking up the attendance sheet. The student’s conversation petered out, Alya and Chloe put their phones away, and Caline glanced down at the list. “Adrien,” she said, just loud enough that the class could hear.

This far into the year, the students didn’t respond, merely waited politely while she glanced back and forth between the list and the students in front of her.

“Alya....phone away please,” Caline scolded lightly, shooting a wry smile at the girl and the phone under her desk. Alya flushed and stuck it into her bag as Caline pursed her lips. “Have you heard from Marinette today?”

As if on cue, the door swung open and Marinette darted inside, tugging on a disheveled pig tail and flying to her seat. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she was chanting, sinking into the chair breathlessly and dropping her bag on the floor. The class stayed silent, all eyes on their tardy classmate, and Marinette flushed. “I’m sorry, Miss Bustier. I overslept...again.”

The last word was sheepish, and while the rest of the class tittered, Caline allowed herself to study the girl a little closer. Clothes rumpled, hair frizzy, bags under her eyes. A faint scratch on her cheek that Caline wasn’t sure she had seen the day before.

“It’s all right, Marinette,” she said after a moment, looking back at the list to mark Marinette as present. “Try not to let it happen too often, mm?”

Marinette’s eyes widened just a bit but she nodded, clearly relieved.

Caline finished up attendance quickly, having seen all the other students come in already, and then set her clipboard down and offered a sheepish smile to the class. “Um...unfortunately, I didn’t quite get through grading yesterday’s homework for you all. Some things came up last night, and I was a bit distracted. I will collect today’s homework, and then we’ll do our lesson, and I’ll let you all leave ten minutes early. How’s that sound?”

The class whooped and Caline smiled, sparing one last glance at Marinette before she moved to collect homework.

The poor girl looked ready to pass out on her desk, and Caline paused as she grabbed hers and Alya’s homework, leaning in. “Marinette, if you aren’t feeling well, let me know so I can give you a nurses pass, all right?”

Marinette blinked twice, shoulders slumping, and she gave the teacher a warm smile. “Thank you, Miss.”

Caline went to the grocery store after school, intent on restocking her cheap wine and aspirin, as well as some other essentials. There had been no akumas all day, the class had been cheerful, and she had been able to brush some of her concerns from the night before aside.

So of course, the afternoon had to jinx her.

Caline was no stranger to entitled people; she had worked as a grocery clerk through her school career, and now she dealt with...certain rich parents and kids on a daily basis.

But getting akumatized because a cashier wouldn’t accept an expired coupon? That was extreme, even for the elder citizens of the world.

And yet, here she was, her new bottle of wine shattered on the ground at her feet and an old woman seven times her height towering in front of her, coupon clutched in hand turned purple and her cane she had been using now a pea shooter that looked like it could shoot a full-sized car.

“Fantastic,” she muttered, backing away from the register as slowly and calmly as possible. Chat Noir and Ladybug – Marinette – would be here soon, she should get out of the way so they could...

And Caline paused, gut churning at the thought of letting one, potentially two, of her students face down against this monster. God above, what kind of teacher was she? Even if they were magically gifted with those suits (and Caline couldn’t even muster up the will to think about the magical implications of her students being superheroes), they were still just kids, and the least she could do was try to help.

She turned to the cowering civilians nearby and glanced around, eyeing the emergency exit off to the side of the room. She caught the eye of a student that she knew from study hall periods, and tilted her head towards the doors. He nodded and darted that way, beckoning people after him.

Caline spun to the akumatized victim – they were a victim, they were a victim, no matter how much of a piece of garbage they had been as a human – and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey! Coupon....lady!!”

She cringed at the words, but the akuma turned, bright red eyes piercing her soul, and Caline swallowed. “You need to just take a deep breath, and be calm about this!”

The monster roared in her face, blowing her hair off her ears and sending her back a few steps. Her arms flew up instinctively to cover her eyes and chest, and it was a good thing she did, because the next thing Caline knew, there was a heavy impact on her torso and she was flying through the air with a shriek.

A solid mass crashed into her back and arms circled her legs and shoulders, and she landed with a jolt in the arms of Chat Noir, who let her down quickly behind a shelf of bread. His eyes raked her over, concern lacing his face. “Are you okay Miss Busti-er, Miss?”

Shoot.

He was Adrien.

Caline swallowed this confirmation and nodded, settling her hand on his shoulder and squeezing it tenderly. “I’m all right, Chat Noir. I was just hoping to distract her so that more people could escape.”

Chat – Adrien – what did she call them now? - nodded, shooting a glance back over his shoulder at where Ladybug was now taunting the akuma. “Do you know where the akuma is?”

Caline tilted her head. “Yes. The coupon she tried to use, it was expired. The akuma went in there.”

Chat wrinkled his nose. “All this over an expired coupon? Yeesh. Stay here.”

“Be careful,” Caline found herself calling out without thinking.

Chat looked surprised, though a grateful smile slipped across his cheeks. “Yes, ma’am.”

Caline sank down onto the floor and watched the fight occur. It might have been wishful thinking, but it felt faster than usual, and maybe it was because of her knowledge of the akuma.

Or maybe old ladies just made really bad akuma victims.

God, Caline really needed that wine.

For the rest of the term, Caline kept quiet about her discoveries. She stayed out of the way of Ladybug and Chat Noir, eased up on Marinette and Adrien in both grading and attendance to her class, and read up as much as she could on what the public knew about akumas, miraculous holders, and the victims.

Alya’s blog played a large part in Caline’s knowledge, and sometimes the woman hoped that Alya would go into journalism in the future. She had a knack for the craft, especially since she had become Rena Rouge and stopped going after identities only.

Oh yes, that one was easy to figure out.

The akumatized victims had been Alya’s sisters, Rena was clearly new, and Marinette was Alya’s best friend. If anyone was going to get a miraculous for that situation, it would be Alya.

Of course, that now meant that Caline had three superheroes in her classroom instead of two. Which, if she was honest, kind of made her head swim.

She endured, paid close attention to when Alya fought alongside Adrien and Marinette (not all the time, she noticed immediately), and eased up on her on the days it mattered.

It worked well, Caline thought. She noticed the slight ease in the students that appeared when they walked into her classroom, how they weren’t timid about admitting their exhaustion to her anymore.

And then she got akumatized.

She saw it, the butterfly heading for Marinette, and she panicked. She hadn’t thought that Marinette could get akumatized, still wasn’t sure, honestly, but she’d be damned if THE Ladybug got revealed to Hawkmoth because Chloe had ruined a present.

“You will NOT evilize one of my students!” she shouted, flinging the pouch at the butterfly and tucking Marinette firmly behind her.

She didn’t know what Hawkmoth was able to see through them, if anything. Didn’t know if he’d be able to read her thoughts, know that she knew the identities of all three superheroes in the city of Paris.

What Caline did know was that, even if he could see those things in her mind, it would still be better than him getting control of Ladybug. At least this way, Marinette could run.

When the butterfly slipped into the lipstick, it was like a bucket of water had been dumped over her head. She gasped, vaguely aware of Marinette shouting next to her, and dropped to her knees, clutching her head.

No.

Give in.

She groaned, the chill spreading through her body, and promised one last, desperate to herself and herself alone, Hawkmoth too busy trying to control her to listen in:

She was not going to let her students get hurt.

That included Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Caline didn’t remember much about being akumatized, save for what the students had told her, but Marinette and Adrien were in school the next day, and so was Alya, and that fact made Caline slump with relief.

She went through the motions, found Chloe’s gift and opened it during class (her favorite perfume, which she was somewhat amazed the girl had known), and gave out homework like it was any other day.

It wasn’t.

She had made up her mind last night. Yesterday had been too close; with what she knew, she was a liability. She had to tell them.

But Caline also knew that they didn’t know each other’s identities. It was clear in the way Adrien and Marinette acted around each other in and out of the costume in various combinations. She knew that Marinette knew who Rena was, but Alya had no idea who Chat and Ladybug were.

Which meant that she had to talk to all of them separately.

Adrien had been a bit late that morning, so after class was over she asked him to hang back, shooing the rest of the kids out and shutting the door firmly in Nino, Marinette, and Alya’s faces with an apologetic smile.

When she turned back, Adrien was shifting from foot to foot, looking incredibly nervous, and Caline smiled. “You’re not in trouble, honey,” she said, lowering her voice. If she knew his friends, she knew they were still outside. “I just needed to speak with you about something important for a moment. I know you have study period next, so you have a moment, yes?”

Adrien licked his lips and nodded. ”Y-Yes, Miss.”

Caline guided him to the far side of the room, to Sabrina and Chloe’s seats, and sat him down gently before sitting next to him.

“I've been muddling over how to approach you on this, seeing as it’s a delicate topic,” Caline said, frowning down at her hands. “But given yesterday's events, I couldn’t safely keep it from you anymore.”

Adrien looked confused when she peered back up at him, and his eyes flickered with understanding. “Miss, if you mean about being akumatized....it’s happened to lots of people. It doesn’t change my decision on – oh no, please don’t tell my father! He’ll pull me from school if he thinks even my teachers are dangerous. N-Not that you are, of course, as I said, many people have gotten affected, but he’s not rational on that sort of thing, and I really enjoy school, Miss, especially your classes, and I-”

“Adrien,” Caline chuckled, reaching her hand out and squeezing his shoulder in the hopes to get him to stop rambling. “This isn’t about your father. I won’t tell him, though I’m sure he knows, given it was on the news. No, this is...”

She frowned. She hadn’t fully thought this through, his reactions, her words, but she let it spill out anyway. “I suppose I just wanted to let you know that...I know. And I’m here, if you need anything from me?”

Adrien looked perplexed. “Know...what? About my father?”

Caline stiffened, searching his face quickly. “What about your father?” she demanded, her voice colder than she meant to make it. If that rich bastard had done anything to one of her students, so help him she would walk in there with a stapler and go to town.

Adrien flung his hands up. “No, no, nothing...bad....if you didn’t mean him, then...?”

She forced her temper down – no need for a repeat of yesterday – and tilted her head, lifting an eyebrow. “I know, Adrien.”

She saw the moment it clicked, the way his eyes widened comically, how his hand flew to his bag, where she assumed his costume was (or whatever it was he used to change), the way his shoulders bunched. “I-I don’t know what you mean,” he stammered.

Caline squeezed his shoulder again, stroking it with her thumb in what she hoped he would interpret as a soothing, motherly fashion. “Adrien. Don’t.”

He slumped, looking away. “How...?”

“It's a bit of a story. But I needed to tell you because of yesterday. I was put into a situation where I could have potentially exposed your identity to Hawkmoth, and if that had happened, you wouldn’t have known. You would have been in danger, and so would your friends. I couldn’t let that happen.”

Adrien looked back up at her, eyes flickering over her face. “You didn’t. He...he didn’t end up attacking us. How did you do that?”

Caline shrugged, dropping her hands back to her lap. “Not sure,” she admitted. ”I think my focus on getting everyone to love each other forced your identity to the back of my mind. Then again, I don’t quite know how Hawkmoth knows anything.”

Adrien was just staring at her, mouth hanging slightly, and Caline chuckled. “It’s all right, Adrien. I’ve said nothing to anyone. Here.”

She handed over his homework assignment from the night before. At the top were her email, phone number, and address. “If you ever need anything, let me know. Even something as small as for me to bring an icepack to school with me.”

Adrien took the page with shaky fingers, and Caline pressed her lips together. ”I'm sorry for springing this on you.”

His gaze shot up to hers and he blinked. ”What? Are you kidding? This is GREAT!”

Caline blinked and sat back. “Really?”

Adrien was beaming now, eyes sparkling and cheeks rosy. “I don’t have to hide from someone! Oh my gosh, wait, can I introduce you to Plagg?”

“To...what?”

“Are you done shouting?” came a gravelly, annoyed voice from Adrien’s bag and oh that was why he had covered his bag so protectively early.

The tiny cat squinted up at her with big, green eyes, and Caline found herself waving awkwardly at it. “Great job at the secret identity, kid,” it grumbled, turning it’s glare to Adrien.

Adrien held his hands up. “Hey man, I said nothing.”

Caline chuckled, shaking her head. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised that this situation had gotten weirder.

It was easier telling Alya. Perhaps because it was logical for her to figure it out, even without knowing Marinette’s identity, but also partially because it meant the girl could now submit her future articles to Caline for proofreading to make sure that she hadn’t slipped up on anything she shouldn’t have.

“I don’t fight often, and I don’t get to keep the miraculous,” Alya informed her, stirring her coffee. She was sitting in Caline’s office, had been interviewing her about her recent akumatization when Caline sprung her knowledge on her. “But...it’s nice to know that you’ll help if I ever need it. Thanks, Miss Bustier.”

Marinette was hard only because Caline could never catch her at a good time. Bakery work, school work, clubs, what she thought might be stalking Adrien, and superheroing kept the girl busy.

Finally, Caline gave up, wrote a very brief note on Marinette’s latest paper - See me, I need to speak to you about ladybugs – and waited patiently in her office after school.

Sure enough, only a few minutes after the final bell, Marinette peeked her head in with a nervous smile. “Is now a good time, Miss?”

“Absolutely. Come on in, Marinette, and shut the door behind you if you would.”

She did as asked and sat down across from Caline, her hands wringing in her lap. Caline stood and moved around the desk, knowing that the barrier sometimes made students nervous, and sat in the chair next to her, twisting her body to face the student. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Marinette,” she said, keeping her voice low.

Marinette swallowed and shut her eyes. “How long have you known?”

Caline hummed, thinking back. “Probably...about two weeks after you first showed up in public as Ladybug.”

Marinette squawked and put her head in her hands. “Was I really that bad at hiding it?” she groaned.

Caline chuckled. ”Not at all, dear. You just happened to give me an autograph for my niece, and your handwriting gave it away. And then your exhaustion and tardiness...just confirmed it. I wanted to tell you that I knew because of that recent business with my akumatization. You never think it can happen to you until it does, I suppose.”

Marinette hummed in her throat, tapping at her knees with her fingertips. “So...do you know that...?”

“Alya is Rena? Yes. I’ve already spoken to her, leaving your name out, of course. I wanted to take the time to give you my number, email, and address, in case you need anything. Anything, Marinette. An extra hand, a place to crash and transform, a snack the next day. And I'll continue to go easy on the two of you when you have rough nights.”

Marinette scoffed quietly. ”I knew you were going too easy on me.”

Caline raised an eyebrow. “Too easy, hmm? I won’t let you slack, Marinette. But if you had a late night, or a tough battle, all you have to do is tell me.”

Marinette smiled, wrapping her arms around herself tightly. “Thank you, Miss. It’s...it’s nice, having someone who knows besides-”

“Ah yes, your kwami,” Caline said, excited. “I’ve been eager to meet her, since I wasn’t able to meet Alya’s.”

The tiny red bug that poked her head out of Marinette’s purse was an exact foil to Plagg in everything down to color and personality. She was introduced to Caline as Tikki, informed of her love for sweets, and then Tikki reminded Caline the consequences of knowing who held the miraculouses.

“It’s dangerous,” the kwami said, her voice solemn.

Caline nodded her head, acknowledging the danger. “I know. But my students deserve to have someone on the civilian side who can help them. I became a teacher to help students in every way possible. I never expected...superheroes out of it...but I like to roll with the punches?”

Tikki giggled and looked at Marinette. “You’re right, she is a good teacher.”

Caline grinned and stood, walking Marinette to her door. “As I said, if you need anything, do not hesitate.”

“Thank you, Miss. This was...really nice of you.”

Caline watched Marinette leave, catching up with Alya at the front door, and then shut her door again, shutting her eyes.

Three students with superpowers in her class, two of them full time.

Caline really needed another bottle of wine.

She bought four the next week when Carapace showed up

#miraculous ladybug #caline bustier #my writing #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #reveal fic #identity reveal

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fuck-customers · 6 years

Text

I work the customer service desk/office in a local grocery store and have to deal with people trying to scam us on a regular basis. Last week a guy came in with a receipt from the day before saying he'd bought two bottles of soda but only had one when he got home. Okay, not unreasonable. People forget items at checkout all the time and he had the receipt. I told him to go grab the soda and bring it back to my counter so I could bag it up for him. He did and boom. Easily satisfied customer. Last night (Monday) he came to my counter again with another bottle of soda claiming the same thing happened. This time, however, no receipt. He said the cashier told him to just come to customer service and tell me she said to let him have the soda (unlikely... the only person that would give that notice is a manager, and he couldn't even give me a name of the cashier). THEN he said that happened last Thursday! Buddy, the first time there was nothing suspicious about your request. But if you think you can just bring stuff to the customer service desk and say you paid for it days ago and you don't have a receipt... no. Just.... no. You're no scam artist. Just pay for the damn soda. Anyway I've now alerted all the other office employees to your games so good luck with your little soda hustle.

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kwangie · 7 years

Conversation

BTOB Grocery Shopping

Eunkwang: makes a very thorough grocery list of everything he needs at the store but ends up forgetting the list at the house. cries when he gets home and forgot to buy the toilet paper. makes another trip back to the store but he forgot his list again. at some point he probably gives up and writes what he needs on the back of his hand

Minhyuk: lives in the organic food section. doesn’t care that they’re charging extra because he thinks it’ll make him a Health Boy™. always holds up the line at the checkout because he has so many coupons and he cant find the one he actually needs. he's very flustered but that wont stop him from getting two dollars off that kale he was eyeing

Changsub: goes to the store to buy fruits and vegetables because “i swear i’m going on a diet this time guys,, seriously, STOP LAUGHING SUNGJAE-” comes home with a box of donuts and cookies and no produce. justifies his purchases by saying he ate the vegetables on the way home. refuses to show his receipt to the boys

Hyunsik: goes to the store wanting to be adventurous and attempt to cook new meals for everyone at home but ends up buying the same chicken nuggets and ramen cups every time he leaves. somehow gets lost in the grocery store often even though he goes three times a week. most likely on a first name basis with all of the employees

Peniel: he makes it all the way to the end of the store only to realize that he forgot something in the first aisle. screams in frustration the entire way back to get what he needs. has really bad puns ready when he puts his Naked juice on the register for the cashier. the cashier is unimpressed to say the least

Ilhoon: only buys name brand food because he SWEARS that one time a store brand cereal skimped out on the contents. no toy at the bottom of the box?? discrimination. in a word, he’s salty. at some point while trying to find something for dinner he gives up and goes out to eat at the restaurant next door. he’ll buy food another day, i guess

Sungjae: hangs around the fruit section to tell every passerby his melon story. often starts with a "how much would you pay me to smash my head into this melon" or the ever popular "hey uh did you know that my special talent is opening watermelon with my head". everyone is confused and they just want him to leave them alone so they can buy their fruit in peace

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silence-burns · 7 years

Text

Guests //part(2/2)

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine Loki being forced to live with you while Thor’s on a mission and someone has to watch him.” by @allthefandomloveandimagines

Genres: domestic, platonic, enemies to friends

Word count: 2,630

[Masterlist] [Part1/2]

After three movies, two packs of popcorn, and one pizza, you still wouldn’t say Loki become your friend, but you both surely broke some ice and changed your behaviour a little. Just enough not to try to kill each other every given chance. Besides, it would be impossible at that moment.

The ending song was slowly playing in the background as the closing credits were rolling down the screen. The curtains were closed on every window, so you had a very general concept what time it was outside, but you were past the point of caring anymore, and apparently so was Loki. You were both laying on the couch, tucked under the blankets that just somehow doubled over the past hours, with your feet on the table and boxes and plates laying forgotten on the ground. Your neighbour’s cat came back to you, very pleased with all the leftovers he had all for himself. You were warm, a little sleepy, and quite surprised you could lay side by side next to the God of Mischief without feeling the need to strangle him.

Loki gasped, leaning further into the cosiness of the shared couch. At first he seemed quite reluctant to share it with you for the movie marathon, but that was long forgotten.

“Is this what you humans do on a daily basis?” he asked, yawning into his shoulder. “It’s exhausting.

“Not really. I would definitely do it if I could, but given that I work with Avengers and we save the world from idiots like you, I don’t have time for this too often,” you shrugged, even if he couldn’t see it. “There are just too many idiots trying to conquer the world lately.”

“Don’t you think wasting time for those… movies is stupid? You, humans, could be used for so many better things…”

“Bruh, five minutes ago you asked me if I had the next part, so make up your mind if it’s a waste of time or not,” you laughed, and even he couldn’t hide a little smile.

“That is not connected.”

“Don’t lie. Santa is watching.”

“Who is Santa?”

You growled. How to explain the connection between a guy in red sweatpants and a date of birth of a god – to another god?

“Let’s pretend you didn’t ask that, please,” you mumbled, hiding under the blanket.

“But I did.”

“I’ve noticed. It’s complicated.”

For a while there was only peaceful silence as you both watched the cat licking some sauce off his face. It was adorable.

“What is his name?” Loki asked.

“I’ve got no idea. I’ve also got some bad news.”

“What kind of?” Loki frowned, looking at you. His dark hair was spread over one of the pillows. You’d never seen him so relaxed and calm. It was a pleasant change, but you still weren’t fully used to it.

“When is your brother coming back for you?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t know, he doesn’t confess to me. I don’t know what kind of a mission he was sent on either.”

“So, you’re probably going to have to stay here overnight?”

“Unless you decide to throw me out on the streets…”

“And wonder what wicked plans you come up with on your way to god knows where? Yeah, doesn’t sound like a good idea,” you pulled a face, imagining the consequences. “Anyway, this isn’t a big problem, you can always crash on the couch, ‘cause there is no chance I’m leaving my cosy little bed for you. The problem is, I don’t have much more food, we ate all I had and I’m gonna need to get some groceries.”

“This is the problem?” Loki raised an eyebrow, expecting something completely different.

“Uh, yeah. I can’t leave you alone here for too long, but I’m not sure if taking you with me is a good idea.”

“You’ve left me here alone for a few hours already,” he reminded you slowly, as if he was talking to a child.

“I was sleep deprived and not thinking straight. I still don’t trust you, and you can’t really blame me for that,” you made a point and he couldn’t argue with that.

“So, what will you do?” he asked, trying hard not to show that something hurt inside of him when you said he didn’t have your trust. It was natural that after everything he’s done to your world you wouldn’t become best friends, but, completely irrationally, he still would be happy if you didn’t say it so directly. And so often.

“I’ve got an idea, but I doubt you’ll like it,” you stated. “But given that you have no right to vote anyway, we’ll do it.”

“At least you’re honest,” Loki muttered. He already didn’t like it.

“We’re gonna go shopping together and you will be nice. No terrorizing people, no trying to run away, because I really don’t want to shoot you…”

“Why shoot? Running after me sounds much easier,” Loki interrupted with a frown and you sent him a death glare.

“I hate running. And shooting you isn’t (technically) forbidden by law since you’re not a human being.”

“I’m a god. Are you going to shoot a god?” he raised an eyebrow, judging you.

“If I recall it right, it kind of worked on you last time we met in New York?” you smiled sweetly. “The look of surprise on your face as you fell down from that building was so pretty…”

Loki rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue with you. The more he talked to you the more he understood what the people around him felt like when talking to him.

“Let’s skip that part,” he asked you, raising his hands in a defeated manner.

“No problem. Now get up, go to that wardrobe there and change your clothes to Thor’s, because you can’t go out on the streets dressed like that,” you gestured to his leather suit. Even though he looked really good in it, it would gain too much attention toward you.

“Do I want to know why you have his clothes in your house…? Are you two…”

“No! Don’t even start! I only have them because every time your stupid brother comes down to the Earth, he is all suited up, waving his robe and Mjolnir and still surprised why he can’t go undercover in all of that.”

“It sounds very much like him,” Loki admitted.

“Yeah, what a coincidence since you look exactly the same, maybe except for Mjolnir.”

“I had very little to say as my brother literally dragged me here without my permission,” he reminded you.

“Now you’ve got even less to say, so better stop it and get dressed.”

Loki raised his still handcuffed hands to your face, shaking the chains.

“I’m a god, not a magician. You have to open them first.”

You pulled a face, not liking the idea at all, but he was right.

“If you try anything…” you warned him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Loki took the clothes with visible disgust on his face and after a few minutes he retuned to the living room with the same expression. You weren’t sure what he expected, but certainly not plain blue jeans and an over-sized T-shirt. Thor was much more muscled, so Loki looked a little different to say the least, and you had to fight hard not to break into laughter. To be honest, he still looked like a supermodel, but in casual, oversized clothes.

“Trust me, it’s way better than that leather suit,” you promised him, trying to hide the smile, but he seemed to look right through you. “Anyway, let’s go.”

You quickly moved from the couch, leaving the warmth of the blankets with a sigh. Your stomach and its emptiness reminded you not to hesitate. You walked to your room, taking a backpack and your wallet. After a second thought, you packed a gun too. Just in case.

“You know, you are surprisingly nice and calm when you refrain from trying to destroy worlds,” you noticed when you both were in the elevator.

“How many times are you going to remind me of New York? Besides, I didn’t want to destroy it, just take it over,” Loki shrugged, leaning on one of the walls. The door opened and you walked out, moving to the streets.

“Like it makes any difference…,” you muttered to yourself, stopping outside the building.

There was way more people around than you’d expected given the late hour. It’s been a while since you needed to blend in and avoid the gaze of a crowd, but you could still feel that your little make-over session could not be enough. Loki looked at you with a question on his face as you dragged him to the closest store, owned by some old, Chinese lady. You quickly bought a baseball cap, putting it on Loki’s head.

“Now we can go, hopefully unnoticed,” you stated, wishing that no one would recognize the man. You really didn’t want any trouble.

“You were right. I don’t like your ideas,” Loki huffed, fixing the cap a little, visibly distasted at the fact that he had to wear it.

“You can make a complaint to Thor once he comes back.”

You had to take a little walk to the supermarket on the other end of the street. You kept your eyes on Loki all the time, wishing you could handcuff him again or chain him to yourself, but unfortunately that wouldn’t help with blending in. At least he was quiet, looking around with an expression you couldn’t read. You wondered how often had he came down on Earth before New York. He looked like a tourist, observing everything around, from the traffic lights to the bins.

“So, this is where we get the food,” you gestured around once you went into the shop.

“I’m aware of what a shop is,” Loki gave you a heavy gaze.

“Good,” you smiled, handing him a shopping basket. “So, you know what to do with this.”

He wasn’t very happy when he had to follow you, but because he was looking around at everything, he didn’t say much, not caring what you were putting in.

The cashier couldn’t tear her eyes off him, even though Loki was covered almost head to toe, and that bastard had seen her staring. He smiled brightly, watching as the redness was slowly creeping up her neck and how her hands were beginning to shake. Scanning the products almost stopped.

You nudged Loki. Hard.

“Please don’t flirt with the cashier,” you whispered. “Or it’s gonna take us longer.”

“You are so boring,” he groaned, walking away a little bit, closer to the exit. You paid the angry cashier and rushed after him. Oh, you were definitely going to punish him once you got back home. And Thor too when he finally shows up, hopefully soon.

“Do you want to visit somewhere?” you asked him as you walked by a park.

He laughed, shaking his head.

“Why would I? This city is awful.”

“And yet you still look around all the time…”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he shut you down, his smile gone.

You shrugged, not interested enough to push him. Maybe he just wanted to see as much as he could before going back to his cell or wherever Thor was taking him back. Even though you couldn’t be considered friends, you’d come to get a little used to this calm man. Well, you could also be biased because he took the bags with groceries without even asking.

Once you were home, you clapped your hands with a bright (and maybe a little devilish) smile.

“We’re gonna make a pizza,” you informed Loki. “Both of us.”

“Why make if you can order it like the last one?” he eyed your moves as you dropped the ingredients into a big bowl.

“Because I want a better one. Trust me, it will be delicious. Now come and help me.”

“But I don’t want to,” Loki pointed out, crossing his arms on the chest.

You sighed deeply, closing your eyes for a moment. You were still holding your backpack. The backpack you had a loaded gun in. Using it was such a tempting idea… After a moment of consideration, you decided to try something different first.

“It’s not that simple. Neither of us know when Thor is coming back and as you’ve shown, you need to eat. You don’t have money to buy anything, so at least to me, it looks like you need to be nice to me.”

“I’m impressed. I never thought you’d be this good at blackmailing people.”

You shrugged, very proud of yourself. You didn’t add that Loki with his looks could just flirt with some poor ladies and make them do whatever he wanted.

“So now knead this, I have to prepare the rest…”

“Excuse me, but what?” Loki looked at you with a complete lack of understanding.

“Knead the dough, please,” you repeated slower like you would to a child. “Put your hands inside the bowl and mix all the ingredients until they become one mass.”

Loki’s eyebrows went so high you wondered if it hurt.

“I am a prince of Asgard and a god and you want me to help you in the kitchen? Have you ever been told that you are very weird?”

“No, but I’ve been told that I shoot fast and never miss. Come on, don’t be a child. There is no pizza for misbehaving kids,” you said with a stone cold expression.

You stared at each other for a while. You promised yourself that if you ever see Thor again, you’ll take a turn and run away from him, his problems, and his brother. God, what a relief he only had one sibling.

“I hate you,” Loki stated after some consideration.

“Okay, I’ll cry about that later. Now get to the bowl.”

And, to your surprise, Loki listened to you. You didn’t actually expect it, you only wanted to mess with him more on the joking side, but there he was, rolling up his sleeves with disgust on his face and probably thinking of ways to murder you in your sleep. What a pleasant day.

A few hours later, when you were both back on the couch, eating delicious pizza, and watching another movie, you suddenly heard a massive thunderstorm approaching the city. You tilted your head, looking out the windows.

“It’s probably my lovely brother,” Loki muttered, finishing his piece.

“Or a thunderstorm that’s gonna kill us all.”

“Are you afraid of storms…?” Loki asked with a mischievous smile. It was obvious he planned to use that information later, whenever he got the chance.

“I’m more afraid that your brother decided to come by and say he has to leave you for a month.”

“That would be unfortunate,” Loki admitted seriously.

“Unfortunate? I would kill you!”

“I’m sure you’d try and trust me, I wouldn’t be happy either.”

A few minutes later, you heard a knock on the door and both of you sighed, relieved, when Thor walked in to take his brother back. He asked you if everything was okay and you actually found yourself unable to answer simply. Sure, Loki and his character weren’t nice guests, but you weren’t a saint yourself.

“It was fun,” you finally admitted with a smile. “Am I right?” you turned to Loki, handcuffed again.

“It was an interesting experience,” he nodded.

Thor smiled brightly.

“So, it wouldn’t be a problem if I sometimes left him here…”

“NO!” you and Loki shouted simultaneously.

The end

[Part1/2] [Masterlist]

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki/reader #loki x you #loki/you #loki #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki reader insert #loki laufeysonxyou #loki laufeyson x you #marvel #mcu

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micispresent · 7 years

Note

Concept: Present mic calling every listener who he meets on a semi-regular basis (i.e. Coworkers, but also sometimes students or neighbors) "viewers".

y es I love this oh gosh

But like I can’t figure out if he’s fully aware of it or if it’s like that subconscious thing where the person at the movie theatre says “enjoy the show” and you say “you too.” Do you think it’s intentional?

Like, imagine he’s at the grocery store and the cashier that’s there every time Mic goes in says “alright, your change today is 3.24.″ This is a person Mic sees every week and is on a first-name basis with, but out of habit he goes “Thank you, viewer!” And then just sorta. takes his bag and awkwardly finger guns out of the store.

Also, do u think he just accidentally says “viewer” instead of listener or is it intentional. Is it his way of differentiating between “I know you” and “I know you listen to my show” or is it just A Mic Thing

either way I love him and I love this ask thank u for sending me a message!!

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milothebastardman · 7 years

Text

Normal

Lord Boxman sighed heavily as he looked outside, a rather weary expression on his face. He was a man with a very dark, brooding nature, and he needed the weather to match that nature! All the sunshine gave him migraines, and the happy little clouds did nothing to block it out at all. No, he preferred stormy days! The lovely ambient noise of rain on the metal roofing of the Boxmore building... All that pesky sunlight blocked out by dark, menacing clouds... No migraines, no trouble sleeping, nothing. Storms brought peace and quiet, even if they meant his precious children had to stay inside.

So the day didn't have the best start necessarily, but that was normal. Lord Boxman was the bad guy, after all, and it wasn't often that the villain in any story got any sort of victory. That didn't mean he liked it, though. Some villains were more than content to be on the losing side, to even be carted off to their local prison in some cases, but that had never been Lord Boxman. He was one of few villains to actually ever taste the sweet ambrosia that was victory, and by god was he addicted to it! So he worked every day, non-stop, the same tired routine getting the same tired results for the most part.

Anybody else who dealt with semi-competent children and near constant failure on a daily basis would have given up a very long time ago. They would've packed up their stuff and went home, but that had never been an option for Lord Boxman. The only home he'd ever had was the Boxmore company building, amongst his infuriating creations. So there he was to remain, toiling relentlessly, perhaps eternally, in a vain attempt to feel victory in his grasp once more. While he'd never give up, he was human even with his cybernetics. He needed time to decompress, time to simply be able to breathe and exist without having to be in the middle of some grand plot.

So, being the genius he was, he built a very special device. It didn't have a name just yet, but it was perhaps the greatest invention (besides his children of course) he'd ever had the pleasure to make. A plain and unassuming black watch on his right wrist, but with a lovely twist! This watch not only told the time down to the millisecond, it also had the ability to reassemble matter itself! Without getting into the extremely boring science of the accessory, it had the ability to shapeshift Lord Boxman's physical form. He could now take the form of anyone he wanted to, or make a whole new form if he wished! It was fairly easy programming the character creation option, and even easier using the program to make his brand new, inconspicuous identity.

His name was Jeremy Lovegood, a very unassuming sounding name to the evil cyborg. The physical form was simple enough, dark brown hair with hazel eyes, lightly tanned skin, and of medium build. Not particularly muscular, but not particularly large either. A completely average looking man, the sort who didn't require cybernetics or possess a chicken arm. The kind of man who would blend easily into a crowd and be forgotten moments after being seen. In short, it was the perfect disguise for Lord Boxman to take on. He switched through the options on the watch, grinning at his new self in the mirror when he saw a rather boring looking man looking back.

Now to experience the world as the normal people did, he thought to himself, pulling on the most normal clothes he could think of. As it turned out, that happened to be a plain red t-shirt, black jeans, a funky pair of green and orange socks, and regular old tennis shoes. Jeremy slipped out the Boxmore building, managing to stay in the shadows for a couple blocks before he let himself out into the sunlight. Nobody gasped or stared in horror at the sight of him, nobody pointed or covered the eyes of their children. In fact, nobody seemed to notice him at all! Jeremy felt glee coursing through his veins as he strolled down the street, his hazel eyes catching sight of Gar's Bodega.

He couldn't help but smirk as he changed paths, heading towards the plaza without drawing a crowd. He was able to walk inside, the little bell ringing above his head as he did. The girl at the counter barely glanced up from her magazine as she greeted him. The alien stocker, who was in the middle of telling KO a story, didn't even hesitate at the sight of him. In fact, he was ignored entirely! Jeremy enjoyed his brief visit to the shop, and actually ended up stealing a keychain as a sort of keepsake. The moment he got back to Boxmore, he switched the disguise off. This had merely been a trial run, he told himself.

What kind of villain would he be if he just let this technology be used for a simple walk in the park? No, he would gather data on his worst enemies by using this handy device, and strike when they least expected it...

That was the original plan, at least. As Lord Boxman used the device more often, the plaza workers found that they received fewer visits from the eccentric villain. Not that they were complaining, of course! Enid loved having more time to not care, and Rad had all the time in the world now to tell KO about his home planet since he wasn't stuck cleaning up plaster and paint chips all the time.

In fact, the only one who seemed to miss Lord Boxman was KO himself. How was he supposed to become a hero if he didn't get to fight a villain? And, in true KO fashion, he couldn't help but feel worried. He wasn't sure if it was because Lord Boxman could possibly be planning something big, or if he was worried because Lord Boxman could have finally done himself in. He didn't mention this in front of the others though, not even to his mommy. This was one of few ideas he kept in his head.

Meanwhile, positively oblivious to KO's internal struggle, Lord Boxman thoroughly enjoyed his secret life as Jeremy Lovegood. He was actually able to feel the rain on his skin without worrying over something not drying properly and rusting! He could take walks whenever work had him stressed, actual walks there were outside with a breeze and flowers to smell. He was no longer confined to the Boxmore halls and offices, no longer stuck inside with nothing to do besides make plans that were doomed to fail. It was refreshing, yet it also made him realize just how little he'd ever experienced in life.

Ever since the accident that turned him into the cyborg he was now, he'd been a recluse. It was just easier to sulk inside and hide himself away from the world than it was to see the pitying stares, hear the hushed whispers of embarrassed mothers with children who asked questions far too loudly. Even though his body accepted the cybernetics, he still flinched when he saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was difficult, to say the least, to be at peace with his new body. The doctors had done multiple skin grafts on his face, the part of his body that was most visibly damaged, yet still salvageable, by the fire. Still, they ended up having to custom design cybernetics to fit over the horribly scarred skin.

He'd been so naive to think that the cybernetics would make anything better. Before them, people had only stared out of morbid curiosity, pity, or slight fear in the case of younger children. Now with the cybernetics covering a third of his face, people actually screamed when they saw him. Lord Boxman was looked at as though he were a villain far before he actually turned to villainy. It had been out of sheer desperation, honestly. What sort of upstanding company would want to hire a man so disfigured, so dastardly appearing as he? So one night, teetering somewhere between behind on rent and eviction, he robbed a local grocery store.

Surprisingly enough, it had gone off without a hitch. Nobody was hurt, he never got caught, and his rent was paid for the past month, the current month, and even the next month. It hadn't been the money that had drawn Lord Boxman in, though. It had been that exhilarating rush he felt as he brandished a homemade laser gun, snarling at some terrified, underpaid cashier to hand over everything in the register, hurriedly stuffing money and various foodstuffs into a couple of large bags. The shakiness in his hands wasn't from his own fear or nervousness, no, it had been from the sheer excitement he'd felt the moment he stepped inside the dimly lit building.

It was that high that had brought him back time and time again, not to that exact store of course, but to crime in general. He slowly stopped paying for things that weren't rent and started using his appearance to his advantage. People typically made a big deal out of avoiding his gaze, so if a few cans of food went missing while he was shopping... Well, that was merely a coincidence, wasn't it? After a solid year of committing robberies and petty crimes, he was able to purchase a plot of land across from one of his old haunts. He built the Boxmore building on his own, sweat, blood, and more than a few tears going into every inch of metal.

Soon Boxmore stood proud and tall, dark metal glinting harshly in the sunlight he so despised. It wasn't long after that that he began the production of his first robot line, the 925 model that he came to affectionately call Ernesto. After a few weeks of little to no orders trickling in, there was a sudden shift, an increase that was so monumental that the villain was moved to tears. Someone who only identified themselves as Professor had ordered 1,000 of the units to be made and shipped to their address. For the next couple weeks, Lord Boxman was in a state of mania as he filled the tall order. The Ernestos were carefully packaged and sent off to the address he'd been given, a very nervous cyborg eagerly awaiting some sort of response.

This came in the form of another order for more Ernestos, and soon Lord Boxman was up to his eyeballs in orders, new robot designs, and machinery blueprints so that he might speed up the overall process. After that initial month of hell (what else would you call a week of nothing followed by three weeks of frenzied building?), he'd not only filled the initial order, but he'd also gotten a basic assembly line together. Ernestos were now built with the press of a few buttons, which freed up plenty of time for the villain turned business man to go about making new robots. Sara was his next design, a very simple explosive that could be lobbed at enemies from a distance. They were a hit with other villains and soon became available for purchase by the hundreds.

Lord Boxman watched as his evil, robotic empire grew, his heart swelling with emotions he hadn't felt in quite some time as his name was flung to the far corners of the galaxy. Of course, this couldn't come without a price. Forget the taxes he had to pay on every sale, forget the cost of running his building, and the cost of new supplies for the robots. Those costs were nothing, they were mere pocket change to him now. No, the cost he felt most deeply wasn't of a financial nature. The cost that cut the deepest and made old pains flare up again came in the form of a young boy named KO.

The first time he'd seen the small child, he thought his heart would stop. His weathered, persistent heart that had seen him through the flames that had brought about his villainous life almost gave out at the sight of Carol's boy. Oh, he'd always hoped he would never see the little bastard that had helped ruin his life in the first place, but it was unavoidable. The child was always toddling along to his mother's dojo, even at the tender age of two. He slowly learned the duo's schedule, subconsciously planning around it so he wouldn't accidentally injure either of them. No, he decided one day, if they were ever hurt by his hand, it would be all according to the plan.

That was the day he leveled down from -4 to -5, a big accomplishment to most villains. While his children wished to celebrate by robbing an ice cream shop, Lord Boxman waved their ideas away and holed himself in his office. Several plans were started and ultimately scrapped, draft after draft being tossed away in the never-ending pursuit of perfection. As most big plans are, though, this one has been pushed aside so that more immediate issues could be taken care of. Like the construction of his newest child, Darrell.

He was his most complicated one yet, the AI much like that of a dorky, teenaged boy, but... He wasn't very physically strong, no matter what modifications he made to the coding. Lord Boxman prided himself on building only the toughest of robots, so this obviously couldn't fly! He spent months tweaking everything, and in the end, he finally resulted in the level -4 robot that he was proud to call son. The Darrell model found an odd success as an evil henchman/personal companion, many villains anonymously confessing in the online forums that they were quite attached to the cute robots. Of course, the idea that people could somehow find his creations "cute" was mildly revolting, seeing as those were basically his children! How dare these random internet strangers find his son cute!

This mild outrage was quickly gone as orders came flooding in for more Darrells, the money and prestige able to wipe out any weird thoughts of what these people were going to do with their own Darrells. People began demanding another model, one like the Darrell but female, and Lord Boxman was quick to begin designing his next daughter. Following in Darrell's organic structuring, the Shannon model was one with a teenaged AI. Delighted customers ordered Shannons, impressed both by her transformation abilities and by her rather brash, slightly spoiled personality. Personally, Lord Boxman couldn't blame them. While Shannons could be bratty and quite the handful, their devotion to Darrells and their owner was... Quaint.

Ah, then came the piece de resistance! The Raymond model, by far Lord Boxman's personal favorite. This robot was incredibly athletic, programmed with a special AI that was geared towards the more dadly villains. Raymond could shoot out puns like the best of them, along with basketballs, baseballs, footballs, soccer balls, and even tennis balls! His natural disposition towards puns and sports made him a cult classic amongst older male villains, and for reasons he didn't really understand, young villainesses and a few villains.

He'd long ago accepted that the villains who purchased robots that had AI complex enough to resemble organic teenagers and adult office workers were weird, so why not make a profit off that weirdness? Jethros, in sharp contrast to the Darrells, Shannons, and Raymonds, were stupidly simplistic. They rolled forward, they rolled backward. A nice starter robot for a new villain, but nothing else in the way of combat. Still, some villains found an unusual use in the Jethro's by adding on a cup holder and setting them to move forward, allowing the tiny bots to follow their owner around with their drinks so they had a free hand for more important things.

Then the beloved baby of the family came along; a small robot that Lord Boxman named Teagan. He was simple like Jethro, lacking in any real AI that the "realistic" robot models were programmed with. He could electrocute enemies, and that was really it. It seemed to be enough, though, because the Teagan models did quite well for themselves. After Teagan, he'd quit designing new robots. Sure, he would make occasional modifications for pre-existing ones, but he started focusing on his old plans once more. Lord Boxman had some experience with the bodega employees at this point and had a basic understanding of their personalities.

KO was the exception, of course. KO was the most determined of the three, a young boy with starry eyes and a distantly familiar ache to help those in need so he could become the very best hero to ever exist. The tiny child adored his friends and his mother, adored most people actually. He'd learned this from the hours he'd spent "gathering intel" while just browsing in Gar's Bodega. That was when the plan began formulating once more, festering and growing in the depths of his mind like a deadly disease. KO went on, blissfully unaware that his greatest enemy lurked in the next aisle over as he planned his untimely demise.

The details weren't there just yet, but a basic outline was quickly formulating in his head. He'd wait until KO took his break, or wait until he got out of school, wait until the little brat was alone and snatch him up! Oh, he thought, how interesting it would be to see how the most loved child would react under the care of someone as callous and unloving as he...

A few months passed as Jeremy Lovegood went about his normal, good guy life. He held the door open for people, made checking out easy on Enid by just using his (legally acquired) debit card, and always put things he decided not to buy back on their proper shelves. Lord Boxman, though, seemed to be dead to the entire world. Orders were still shipped out accurately and on time, but even his closest clients couldn't know if the cyborg was still living. He'd gone off the radar entirely, faded from existence and from most minds as he pursued the life of an average man.

Oh, he still worked at his plan to kidnap KO, of course. He just... Didn't do it every day, like he'd thought he'd do. Still, he reminded himself, any progress was better than no progress. His children grew restless, Shannon whining about her joints getting rusty from a lack of fighting, Raymond complaining about a lack of sports pun opportunities being presented at home, and Darrell... Well, he was Darrell. He was concerned for Dad and his unhealthy obsession with his last invention. It took several threats of discontinuation before he was able to get the children to stop with their whining.

Still, Lord Boxman realized that he had to put his plan into action, and quite soon too. The dissent among his creations may have been quieted, but it was far from silenced. So he once more donned his disguise, slipping easily into the role of Jeremy Lovegood. Jeremy went for his last stroll as a normal man, bought his last pack of gum without getting screamed at, and sat down in the park for the final time. Birds chirped in their nests, children played with their friends, and flowers bloomed under the gentle, guiding light of the sun... It was a beautiful day, one where he should've been out enjoying it instead of softly grieving the loss of the normal life he'd only just started to lead.

But he wasn't Jeremy Lovegood. Sure, he could make himself look like Jeremy Lovegood, he could sound like Jeremy Lovegood, hell, he could even be nice like Jeremy Lovegood! Yet at the end of the day, he wasn't Jeremy Lovegood. He was Lord Boxman, the greatest villain to ever enter the world of business! He was the creator of several popular robots, the cyborg who was able to taste victory once in a blue moon! And he would be damned if he didn't taste it once more. So he went on his way to Gar's Bodega, his grief pushed away to make room for vengeance and spite.

Jeremy Lovegood saw KO taking the trash out. Jeremy Lovegood approached him. Jeremy Lovegood offered him a few tips on learning new power moves. Yes, it was Jeremy Lovegood who did these things, but it was Lord Boxman who knocked the child down with a swift kick to the head. The disguise was shut off, cybernetics glinting in the dying light of twilight. KO's eyes widened in shock, but before he could call out for help, he was falling into an inky darkness he'd never experienced before. Lord Boxman was able to haul the small hero back to his building easily, a sick, twisted grin on his face.

Oh, how sweet this would be! To watch as Carol scrambled to find her only child, to see as Gene became consumed with guilt... The only part Lord Boxman felt any real guilt for was the fact that Enid and Rad would be swept up into this. Truth be told, he had no real quarrel with them. They were just teenagers, after all, very much like his own robotic creations. It hadn't been their fault that the fire was set to cover the robber's tracks. It hadn't been their fault that Gene came too late to save them all. It hadn't been their fault that Carol was pregnant at the time, that her life and that of her unborn child were considered more important than his own.

They hadn't made that decision, Gene had. Gene had been the one to pull Carol from the wreckage, choosing to leave Boxman behind even as he cried out to him for help. Gene had been the one who couldn't even be bothered to visit him in the hospital afterward when he was left alone once more. No, Gene had done absolutely nothing for him, so now he would be the one left alone. He would be the one to feel like everything had been cruelly ripped from his grasp. He would feel loss, pain, betrayal, and everything else that Boxman had felt yet couldn't put a name to.

His creations gawked at him when he came through the living room, eyes wide and mouths silenced from the sight of the knocked out hero. Had he really done it..? They scampered after Lord Boxdad as he headed to an elevator. He keyed in a complicated password, and the elevator doors slid open quietly. Everyone crowded in, Darrell's elbow jabbing at Shannon's side while Raymond's shoulder spike almost took out Darrell's eye. The elevator began to descend, the unease building as the seconds ticked by. They were sure that the building didn't have that many floors, but they were apparently wrong.

The elevator finally dinged and released them from their metal, dimly lit prison, and the robots spilled out in a tangled mess after their father. The silence seemed to stretch on, unending, fatal silence as the cyborg strapped the boy into a chair. The robot teens looked around the bleak room, quietly confirming that no, I haven't ever seen this room before either. Finally, the silence was broken.

"Dad..?", Darrell asked softly, a noticeable tremor in his voice. Normally Shannon would make fun of him for that, but for once she allowed herself to cling onto her big brother as fear filled her circuits. Lord Boxman glanced over at his children, the grin slowly fading away as the reality of the situation hit home. He had really done it. He'd kidnapped the child of his greatest adversaries, brought him down to a part of the building that even the Ernestos didn't know about, and had him in his evil, inescapable clutches. There would be no friends bursting in to save the little guy, no Carol come to rescue him from trouble once more, and definitely no Gene to come play his usual paternal role to KO.

Now it was just KO, Lord Boxman, and his three most beloved creations....

So... What came next?

#ok ko #ok ko lets be heroes #fanfic #fanfiction #lord boxman #KO

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newton-af-scamander · 7 years

Text

How to Seduce a British Magizoologist Part 2

A field guide by Percival Graves

My first attempt at Gramander, featuring oblivious!Newt and pining!Percival. Alternate title: 5 times Graves tries to woo newt with different creature mating rituals, + 1 time is actually works. Beta’d by my lovely friend @fairychemist

Rating: Teen, may increase

Pairing: Newt Scamander/Original Percival Graves.

Part 2 of 7, will be compiled at the end and put up onto AO3 as one

The male Niffler will take prized treasures from its own nest and present them to the female that it is trying to impress. The more valued the treasure, the more interest it shows the female. The female then takes the gift, and will either return it later or decide to keep it. The females have been known to keep things for up to two days before they return it, or some even return it on the spot. The male Niffler will sniff around the female's home to see if the gift is being displayed in the female’s home. The female may also reject gifts from the same male multiple times before accepting them, so the males usually start small and give grander and grander gifts. I once even witnessed a male Niffler get rejected fourteen times before being chosen.

Once the female has accepted the gift, she will then place it at the entrance to her home, where the male will then pick it up and bring it inside to her and commence with mating. This lasts approximately 24 hours, before the couple parts ways, the female keeping the offered treasure as her own. The male will then visit every night until one night it leaves with a small treasure from the female's nest and does not return. This signifies the female is succesfully with child.

The section on Nifflers goes on to the gestation time and upbringing of the Niffler but Graves only needs the mating ritual part. A complicated yet simple tradition, Graves decides to start with the Niffler. He looks around his apartment, taking in the furnishings and the sparse homey trinkets. He highly doubts gifting his couch to Newt will be ideal, but maybe one of his framed pictures? Would sentimental value be better or materialistic? The Niffler was quite fond of anything of worth. Maybe his Grandmother’s antique silver tea set would be more appropriate.

Time to visit the Graves family vault then.

xXx

An unexpected chance shows up the next day after work. Percival is walking home from MACUSA that day so he can stop by the store to grab some dinner, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck when the early december wind whips at his face, the cold sucking out any body heat he manages to produce. He would have preferred to Apparate but the store was a Muggle store and that was a security risk. He ducks into the store away from the wind, rubbing his gloved hands together to drive the cold away, when he spots his favorite magizoologist in the very same store.

Even with his back to Percival, it is unmistakably Newt, with his signature blue coat and mop of red hair. The redhead is hunched over the fruits, picking up a sack of oranges and inspecting them before adding it to his already generous pile. He must be shopping for his creatures. Percival makes his way over to him, smile pulling at his lips. The bite of cold is already being replaced with a warmth blooming in his chest.

“Mr. Scamander, what a pleasant surprise.”

The man startles and spins around; as his eyes meet Graves’, a soft smile spreads over freckled cheeks that are still rosy from the cold. Graves swallows the lump in his throat that forms at the attractive sight before him.

“Percival,” Newt breathes, tone pleasantly warm. “I thought I told you to call me Newt.”

“Newt,” he corrects himself. They haven’t been on a first name basis for very long, and Graves is still in a workplace mindset. The resulting smile is worth it, and Percival joins Newt in his shopping, remaining after he's already picked up everything he needs to help Newt carry the alarming amount of food to the register. The cashier eyes them questioningly but doesn't say anything, just ringing them up.

Newt declines his offer of further help home and piles the grocery bags into his arms. Graves finds himself once again marveling at the hidden strength in Newt’s skinny body. He holds the bags of meat with ease and they make their way out of the store and back into the cold.

“Mercy Lewis, Newt, where are your gloves? Your hat? I know you own at least a scarf.” The magizoologist at least manages to look apologetic as he smiles sheepishly.

“It may have slipped my mind? By the time I noticed it was too much trouble to turn around.”

“Too much trouble-” Graves huffs and pulls his scarf from around his neck, wrapping it around the protesting magizoologist. It then occurs to him that he is giving something of his own to Newt, and wonders if this might count as a courting gift.

“Th-thank you,” the magizoologist is blushing, and Graves has an inkling that it isn’t just from the cold. Newt has his chin tucked into his chest, nose buried into Graves’ scarf as he glances up as graves under auburn eyelashes. The sight of Newt wrapped in his scarf causes something animalistic inside of him to purr in approval.

They hold each other's gaze for a few more intense moments before a no-maj bumps into Graves and the contact breaks. Graves scowls at the man, who is scowling right back at him over his shoulder.

“I’d better go,” Newt says, and Graves attention is back on him now. Graves fishes for something to say to keep him here longer.

“Are you walking from here then?” Newt nods in answer. “Would you like to side-along with me? It’s no problem.”

Newt shakes his head, “I’m not a huge fan of side-alongs. If I get splinched I’d rather it be my own fault.” Graves offers to walk him to the nearest approved Apparition point and Newt at least allows that.

“So you finally got your Apparition license then?”

“Er, not exactly.”

“You know, of all the people to admit that to, the Director of Magical Security isn’t your best choice, Newt.”

“Probably not, no.” Newt giggles. They both know Graves wouldn’t be doing anything about it.

“Swing by my office tomorrow with the form, I'll sign off on it.” It’s not his usual job, and if Madame Picquery saw it it would earn a raised brow, but no one would question his signing it. Hell, half the department wouldn’t even be surprised; they were all involved in a betting pool on his relationship with the visiting wizard.

“Good night, Percival.” Newt dips his head in farewell then Disapparates away.

xXx

The next morning his rather good mood is dampened when he finds the scarf neatly folded on his desk along with the filled out Apparition permit and a small folded paper with his name written across it in Newt’s neat scrawl.

He picks up the note in one hand and thumbs it open, other hand still shoved deep in his pocket.

Thank you for letting me borrow this. I shall endeavor to remember mine going forward. I’m not used to this New York weather, it seems.

-Newt

Its disappointing to see the scarf returned, but a smile forms on his lips anyway. The book had said that the gifts could be returned, so he would just need to try again. Let it never be said that Percival Graves gives up without a fight.

xXx

Saturday morning half past noon finds Graves in his kitchen, sipping coffee and dressed in pajamas while reading the Daily Ghost. He’d slept in today, his night blessedly free of nightmares thanks to his volunteering to be Newt’s guinea pig for his diluted swooping evil venom. Percival chalks it down as a success.

He is reaching the bottom of his coffee and is about to stand to get a refill when there’s a knock on the door. Percival pauses, wondering if he’s hearing things. He wasn't expecting anyone. Maybe it’s his landlady? The knock sounds again, this time a little louder. Percival pushes his chair back and stands, pulling his bathrobe shut and tying it closed. He’s wearing a shirt and pants underneath but still feels the need for extra cover.

He opens the door to find Newt standing in his hallway, a white primate creature with large eyes hanging from his neck, an Occamy cradled in its arm. Percival almost lets his jaw drop. Instead he grabs Newt and drags him inside, sticking his head into the hall to see if anyone’s around. The coast is clear, so he turns and shuts the door, sliding the lock shut. He whirls on Newt, who is bent over to let the creature down.

“Newt, please tell me you weren’t walking around the Muggle occupied apartment complex with your creature clearly visible to all.” He sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. The magizoologist shoots him a startled look, shaking his head.

“I mean, yes, I carried him the whole way. But Dougal was invisible!” Newt explains, raising more questions.

“Dougal?”

“Ah, yes, this is Dougal.” Newt gestures to the creature standing next to him, who looks at Percival with its large eyes. Percival nods his head, greeting it awkwardly.

“Pleasure to meet you… Dougal.” The creature just continues to look at him, giving Graves the feeling that it;s looking into his soul. He shifts onto his other foot and averts his eyes. Turning his attention back to Newt, he sees that the other man looks pleased.

“He’s invisible to no-maj’s?” He asked, because he was able to see the creature plain as day.

“Ah no, he can actually turn invisible. He’s my demiguise. They are often hunted for their pelts to make invisibility cloaks. I rescued him from a poacher in Papua New Guinea.”

Percival nods along, glancing back at the demiguise and sees it’s no longer watching him. Instead, it’s tugging on Newt’s coat sleeve. The magizoologist turns to him and Dougal points at the case.

“Oh, you want back in?” Dougal nodded and Newt set the case down, undoing the latches and opening the cover so the creature could amble back into it. “Thank you for helping me,” Newt said down into the case before he shut it and re-latched it.

“I didn’t know you knew where I lived,” Graves says. He wasn't aware that any of the other aurors knew either; some even joke that he lives in the woolworth building. Sometimes it certainly feels like it.

“I didn’t. Dougal showed me.”

“Dougal knows where I live?”

“Oh, right, he’s able to see the future and he was able to see Thursday when we have dinner.” Percival doesn’t know what to say to that - he’s still processing the fact that Newt is in his house, having sought him out. Newt himself looks up at Percival and the smile slips off of his face.

“Oh, no. That was terribly rude of me, wasn’t it? I can leave-”

Percival jumps into motion, steering Newt further into his apartment. “It’s fine, really, I was just surprised is all. In a good way.” Newt smiles back at him over his shoulder, hesitant, then ducks his head down and holds his case up. “If you’re free I brought my case over, if you still wanted to meet everyone.” Newt looks up at him under his lovely red bangs, eyes shining with excitement and trust. Percival licks his suddenly dry lips.

“I’d be honoured, Newt.”

Newt beams and sets the case down, kneeling beside it and thumbing the latches open.

“Give me a few minutes, I would like to change into some more appropriate clothing.” Graves gestures down to his pajamas, and Newt suddenly looks embarrassed.

“Did I wake you? I’m terribly sorry if I did.” The Englishman looks like he's about to pack up his case but Graves waves him off.

“I’ve been awake for a bit, just too comfortable to change.” Newt seems pacified by this and no longer looks like he’s going to try to leave. Percival shoots one last smile at him before he retreats to his room to change into a pair of trousers and a simple white button down and black vest. He grabbed a box off of his dresser that he had been intending to give later but now would work better.

He reenters the living room where he left Newt only to find the man gone, his case lying open in the center of the floor. Percival wanders over and looks down into the case, where he finds a ladder leading down into what looks like a mess.

“Newt?” He calls down hesitantly, and the man in question appears, looking up at him with a smile and beckoning him down with a gesture. He strides off again and Percival makes his descent into the infamous case.

The end of the ladder brings him into a small hut where every surface is covered with papers filled with writings and drawings. There are magical devices strewn about, some he recognizes, most he doesn't. Plants, herbs, and ingredients hang from the ceiling or lie bound in bundles on tables. It all seems to be organized though, in some way that goes right over Percival’s head but it’s just so very Newt that Percival loves it instantly.

He spends a few minutes looking around in wonder as Newt strips down to his shirtsleeves. Percival may or may not be distracted as Newt unbuttons the cuffs and shoves them up to his elbows, showing off his freckled forearms. Percival notes the small pale scars scattered on his arms, bite marks and scratches, even a healing pink scratch in the inside of his left elbow. Scars that just make Newt more beautiful in Percival's eyes, scars that tell a story of the dedication Newt has to his creatures.

Newt turns back to him, a bucket of meat in one hand, and offers a smaller one out to Percival. He takes it and looks inside, where round earthy-smelling pellets are heaped to the brim. Percival in return holds the box out to Newt, who looks puzzled.

“What is this?”

“The point of a gift is to open it and find out,” Graves says.

Newt doesn't respond to that but instead takes the wooden box into his free hand, long fingers brushing Percival's. He sets the pail of meat down with a hearty clunk and caresses the smooth wood of the box with his spindly fingers, Percival watching with rapt attention. Newt has the most ridiculously sexy hands; Percival often catches himself thinking of how they would look wrapped around his- wand. Yes, ahem, wand. Not anything else. He reverts his eyes to the gift, blushing slightly.

The Graves family crest is carved into the top of the shallow square box, a wampus standing on its hind legs, roaring skyward with its tails fanned out behind it. It had been a disappointment to his family when he had chosen Thunderbird at Ilvermorny, but he hadn't regretted his choice. They had gotten over it with time.

Newt flips up the latch and opens the box, staring down at its contents with a puzzled look. “I’m afraid I don't quite understand?” Newt says as he reaches in and pulls out an intricate silver chain necklace sprayed with diamonds and sapphires.

“It belonged to my mother.”

“I’m not quite sure it would suit me,” Newt looks even more confused, and Percival is regretting all of this, wants to take it back. Newt probably thinks he’s strange now, but his throat is closing and he struggles to find words. Newt places it back into the box. “Besides, it would get in the way of my work and would just end up gathering dust in a corner.” Newt tries to hand it back, and Graves’ shoulders slump with the rejection.

“Yes, sorry, you’re right. It was silly. I had been reading about Nifflers and-” and speak of the devil the Demiguise comes back in holding the Niffler above it’s head, and both wizards turn their attention to the cacophony of noise it makes as it wanders into the hut with the struggling creature. The Niffler looks far from pleased at the turn of events until it sniffs the airs and its head swivels around to look at them, or more precisely at the box full of jewels.

Newt turns back to Percival with one of the brightest smiles he’s ever seen on the man, “You brought these for my Niffler!”

With the force of that grin pointed at him Percival is helpless to do anything but nod. Newt laugh rings out like music between them and he nuzzles into the fur of the Niffler when the creature suddenly climbs up onto Newt’s shoulder. The Niffler only has eyes for the treasure though, and he glances at Newt cautiously as he reaches a hand towards it. The magizoologist grins and nods.

“Go on, it’s yours.” The little creature doesn't need to be told twice. He lunges for the box, stuffing handfuls of treasure into its pockets, digging through the pile and throwing out a few things that weren’t very shiney or the handmade pin made from cloth that had been made by his great grandmother. Dougal picks the thing up off the floor and holds it out to him. Percival takes it with a ‘thank you’.

When he looks back the Niffler is staring at Graves, head titled slightly before he jumps forward. Graves jerks forward and tries to catch the little guy, but he needn’t have worried as the Niffler just grabs onto his sleeve and climbs its nimble way into his vest pocket.

Newt makes a noise of protest and snaps forward, catching the Niffler by the leg before he fully escapes into his pocket, something Graves wouldn’t have expected him to fit into.

He extracts the creature from Percival's pocket, dangling him upside down and giving him a very unimpressed look. Percival pats down his pocket and finds his pocketwatch missing.

“He’s got my watch.”

“Don’t be so greedy you nuisance,” Newt scolds, giving the creature a shake. The Niffler hold a hand over its slightly bulging pouch to hold its treasures in. “Give Percival his watch back.” They stare eachother down for a few tense seconds before the Niffler huffs and reaches in its pouch, pulling out Percival’s watch. Newt smiles and rights the creature, who drops the watch into Newt’s hand and the scurries off.

Newt shoots him an apologetic smile and returns the watch.

“He could’ve kept it, i can always get another.” Graves takes the watch anyway and pockets it. Newt picks his bucket back up.

“Don’t encourage him too much, or he's never going to stop.” he teases, and the look he’s giving Percival can only be described as fond, daresay besotted.

Even though the gift didn't work out exactly as planned, Percival can't help but mark this attempt a success as he follows Newt out the door and into his world of fantastic beasts.

#gramander #newt #newt scamander #percival graves #MACUSA #Niffler #my writing #gramander fic #gramander fic rec #screaves #grewt #newt/percival #original percival grves #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts and where to find them

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fancymuffinparty · 7 years

Text

Prelude

Rating: T; for language and suggestive material.

Pairing: Levi x Mikasa, RivaMika

Summary: Written for the fifth RivaMika Jam! The story of how an aspiring musician meets and falls for his muse. My partner was @zerolr and my prompt was: “Mikasa is an ordinary person working at a grocery/supermarket store and Levi is a famous musician/actor. He sees her and finds himself attracted/interested in her. So while she checks out his purchase, Levi leaves her his phone number.” I kinda deviated a little from the original premise, but I hope it still turned out okay! :) This was fun to work with and I’m glad I signed up this time around!

Word Count: 3873 (a little long lol oops)

Music is one of many ways people are able to express themselves.

Soft, slow melodies from jazz or classical styles evoke calmness and serenity. Heavier themes can be conveyed through powerhouse ballads of the rock n’ roll variety. Regardless of the genre, there’s almost always a message or meaning to these intricate works of art, crafted from some sort of stimulus.

Some musicians draw inspiration from everyday life and personal experience, travelling and exploring new sights, or through the release of pent up emotions; a coping mechanism for dealing with hardships and complexities of this cruel yet beautiful world.

Aspiring musician Levi Ackerman fears he’s lost any and all inspiration. He has talent, that much is true. However, he recognizes that plenty of other ‘up-and-comers’ and ‘desperate hopefuls’ have talent. His music has hit a plateau, unsure where to take his current career aspirations or how exactly to get where he wants to be. He yearns for a stimulating experience; something to pull him out of this awful rut and set him apart from others in the highly competitive and cut-throat industry, riddled with unoriginal material and blatant narcissism.

Enter Mikasa, and the spark comes back.

She’s a quiet, reserved cashier at a small grocery store he frequents on a weekly basis. Always calm, smiles politely to every customer, and tends the same checkout stand every time.

Every other week-night. From six to midnight. Like clockwork.

Levi’s newfound muse is exactly what he needs as a source of inspiration.

It just so happens that he’s conveniently run out of a few basic necessities, prompting a trip to the grocery store on an unseasonably warm Thursday night.

Before long, he’s face to face with her, setting his gathered items on the counter in a meticulously neat array.

As Mikasa begins ringing up his purchase, she can’t help but engage in harmless conversation.

“That’s… a lot of cleaning supplies.” She suppresses a small chuckle, swiping the items along the scanner to a steady rhythm of beeps.

Levi, the ultimate clean-freak, feels no shame in what he considers a redeemable quality. He also seeks to use the situation as a means for something a bit more meaningful.

“My roommates,” he explains, “can be a handful.” That’s one way to put it.

“I can definitely relate,” Mikasa drawls, nodding her head. “Take on most of the responsibilities, right?”

“For the most part,” Levi replies. “They might be terrible roommates, but I can’t exactly get rid of ‘em.”

Still ringing up the last of the items, Mikasa coyly turns her gaze directly his way. “Some sort of obligation?”

Levi lists off the generalities of his living situation. “Longtime friends, band-mates…”

To his surprise, Mikasa pauses and expresses interest in pursuing the matter. “Band, huh?” A hard-to-read smile perches on her lips. “Is it more of a hobby? Like a side thing?”

He’s used to these kinds of questions, therefore he’s more than willing to answer. “Started out as a hobby, until we started booking gigs and performing here and there.”

“Seems as though you like it enough.”

“The extra money is nice, especially when it’s for something I enjoy doing.” Levi pulls out his wallet, preparing to pay for the cleaning haul. “Some venues are better than others. Some crowds are tougher than others. It’s hit and miss sometimes.”

Upon finishing bagging up the items, Mikasa briefly changes the subject, reverting back to the task at hand. “I might’ve asked you last time you were here, but any chance you’re interested in signing up for our new rewards program?”

Levi knows it’s a part of her job to ask every customer. Hell, the manager probably keeps tabs on which employee has signed up the most people per shift. He himself once worked in retail, so he can relate to working in an environment where employees are pressured to fulfill such menial assignments.

Either way, he’s still reluctant. “What would that entail?”

Utilizing her charismatic skills to their full potential, Mikasa makes an effort to reassure any concerns. “It’s free to sign up. All we need is an email and phone number.” Aligning her gaze with the mountain of cleaning products, she quickly adds, “And given that you’re here every week to stock up for the apocalypse, I think you’d benefit from it.”

Levi ultimately relents. “Well when you put it that way, it sounds reasonable.” A smirk creeps along the corner of his mouth as he begins filling out a sign-up sheet. “I thought maybe you were just playing it cool, trying to get my phone number.”

His attempt at flirting certainly hasn’t gone unnoticed and Mikasa finds it impossible to suppress the surge of red rising to her cheeks.

“Just… doing my job,” is all she can manage.

Thank god it’s a slow night and there’s no one else in line behind him, or this might have been a thousand times weirder. She accepts both the small slip of paper and his form of payment, finalizing the transaction in one fell swoop.

“Have a good night,” she says, handing him his receipt.

Levi, assuming that’s the end of it, nods and moves to grab the plastic bags full of his purchases, thanking her before turning away. Suddenly, and so unexpectedly, Mikasa’s voice pipes up and momentarily stops him from leaving the checkout stand.

“You should let me know when your next gig is,” she states casually. “I’d love to hear you play some time.”

Levi wasn’t sure what he had done to have been rewarded this many 'good karma’ points, but he accepts his lucky break nonetheless. Keeping his tone as casual as hers, he responds with, “Well now that you have my number, maybe you should call me when you’re free.”

Mikasa contemplates his sly remark, shaking her head. “I have a better idea.” She pulls out a pen and small piece of paper, using the counter as a flat surface while she scribbles something down. Once she’s finished, she extends it towards Levi, encouraging him to take it.

Levi gladly accepts, and discovers the contents of the pocket-size note feature her phone number.

“How about you call me when you get the chance?” Mikasa’s clever witticisms are yet another reason Levi is convinced his taste in women is anything but questionable.

He keeps a firm grasp on the slip of paper, as though it’s a prize-winning lotto ticket. “I will.”

And he certainly does.

Levi doesn’t get nervous.

He and his band-mates have performed enough times to get a feel for what the crowd likes and wants to hear. The venues are usually small, local, and full of college-age spectators. The stages rarely ever differ, offering the bare minimum amount of lighting above a sturdy wooden platform.

It’s not the first time he’s performed at this bar in particular. By now, he’s familiar with the amiable staff and finally on a first-name basis with management. Levi and co are a crowd favorite at the popular Colossal Bar, having won the hearts of the locale’s regulars which in turn generates an influx of business for the establishment. It’s a win-win for all parties involved.

There must have been roughly a hundred people in the joint but just as Levi was set to perform his second song, a loose rendition of ‘When You Were Young’ by The Killers, his gaze falls upon a sight that seems unfathomably surreal.

Mikasa is standing in the center of the crowd, a faint smile adorning her face. With one hand occupied, holding her drink of choice, she raises the other and waves.

Levi still doesn’t get nervous. It only fuels his desire to perform his best.

Amid the vast sea of unfamiliar faces, some more sober than others, some more enthused than others, some even singing along, Levi only wants to look at her.

Halfway through the song, the energy of the crowd seems to magnify, with someone in the back whistling loud enough to be heard over the intensity streaming from finely tuned guitars and drums.

Cheers follow shortly after the well-received rendition comes to an end, transitioning to a brief interlude as the band prepares to end the performance with their last song for the evening. This time it’s an original, not a cover.

Levi’s foot taps against the floorboards to the opening of the song; the song he wrote after seeing Mikasa for the first time. Granted, she doesn’t know that…

See it on the people’s faces everywhere

Black ‘n blue but they won’t throw the towel in

And let go of a dream

Man, woman, child, prepare to bleed

The band had initially been weary of the how the audience would react to their original piece, but the reassurance comes flooding in as soon as hoots and hollers from the crowd adorn their ears in tandem with the palpable beat and lyrics.

Levi keeps a level head through and through, eyes still locked on Mikasa, seemingly holding an intense staring contest with the raven-haired beauty that blocks everything else out.

Do you believe that we can conquer this?

Can’t delete all the mess that I have seen

Fall in the fire but these burns will heal you

The array of lights overhead flicker as Levi backs away from the mic. At long last, they complete yet another successful gig. A round of applause echoes from every corner of the establishment, indicating the patrons are more than just satisfied with the evening’s performance. He and his band accept the riotous praise hailing from newfound fans of their music, waving to the plethora of enthusiasts.

Bidding his mates farewell, Levi hops off stage and scrambles among a few tipsy spectators in search of one particularly lovely guest.

Several girls are ogling him from every angle, to which Levi is hopelessly oblivious. Completely uninterested in their advances, Levi finally spots Mikasa at the bar and pulls up a seat in the stool right next to hers.

She’s the first one to speak, greeting the arrival of the band’s front man.

“Seems to me you underestimate yourself, Levi,” she mutters, taking a sip of her gin and tonic.

“How so?” he asks, curiosity brewing.

She blinks lazily, resting her elbows on the counter. “When you told me you were in a band, you failed to mention you guys were actually really good.”

Levi’s glad he doesn’t give her the impression he’s a cocky asshole. He hates cocky assholes who talk up a big game, finding it beyond amusing when their pride and inflated egos are their ultimate downfall.

He accepts the compliment without getting ahead of himself. “’Good’ is a subjective term, but I appreciate it.” He orders a drink and while waiting for the bartender to devise the concoction, he carries on with the conversation. “I’m really glad you came out tonight.”

“That makes two of us,” Mikasa replies, studying him with intoxicating bluish greys.

The bartender sets Levi’s whiskey and coke on a coaster, to which he’s quick to take a hearty swig. The alcohol helps take the edge off, though he’s not much of a drinker and is enjoying the social interaction regardless. He’s about to say something when Mikasa nudges him gently on the shoulder.

“Don’t look now,” she mumbles, “but I think you have a fan.“

Levi only scoffs at that. “Oh yeah?”

“A few tables behind you. Toward the back.” Mikasa chuckles. “She’s been checking you out this whole time.”

Levi doesn’t heed her initial advice and looks over his shoulder to pinpoint this interested fan of his.

Bingo.

Copper colored hair. Large hazel-brown doe eyes. Possible candidate for a one-night stand.

‘Doe eyes’ winks at him, the look on her face begging him to join her and her circle of friends for some chit-chat.

Levi instantly looks away, leaving Mikasa equal parts confused and intrigued.

“She’s cute,” she hums.

“She’s not my type,” Levi affirms. “Besides, I’m right where I want to be.”

Levi and Mikasa eventually make their way to the back of the room, loosening up on a couple of beige lounge chairs as the alcohol only mildly kicks in. There’s about an hour left until closing, most of the noise dying down as the evening fades into the deathly early hours of the morning. A few winks from interested college girls still dart his direction, but right now he’s only focused on the way Mikasa perks her lips every time she’s about to say something. He can’t be half-assed to care what happened to 'doe eyes’ or his band-mates, not while he has Mikasa in front of him.

He learns that she’s not from the area. That she was adopted at the age of three and grew up in a small town a few hours away. Aside from working at the grocery store, she’s a full-time college student, majoring in criminal justice.

Levi on the other hand, admits he’s never really been anywhere else. Small town guy hailing from humble beginnings, content with how his life is turning out.

“Maybe that’ll change,” Mikasa insinuates. “One day when you make it big, you’ll be able to go to all sorts of places.”

Levi huffs at that. “’Make it big?’” He sounds disdainful, as if musicians who only strive for fame and fortune aren’t true musicians at all. He vowed never to be a sell-out long before setting foot on-stage. “Not sure that’s the direction I want to take my career.”

Mikasa half-smiles. “Like I told you. You underestimate yourself.”

“I don’t know,” Levi shrugs. “I think I would grow to hate that kind of lifestyle fairly quickly.” Always on the road, lots of airports and hotels, lots of loud obnoxious people. The exact kind of shit he can’t stand.

Mikasa has always been a realist, so she understands where he’s coming from, but that doesn’t stop her from offering her own perspective. “That’s one way to look at it,” she begins, “but what about the message you’re trying to send? What about the people who look up to you? Your music is more than just an artistic way of expressing yourself. It could inspire the hearts of thousands, bring them all together, and make this messed up world just a tiny bit better.”

You could use your voice for so much more…

Levi blinks a few times, almost at a loss for words until he finally manages to think of how to respond to that. “Forget criminal justice, you should look into becoming a motivational speaker or something.”

“You have to accentuate the positive in life sometimes.”

“That’s funny.” Levi rubs his chin in thought. “I’ve definitely heard that somewhere.”

“You probably have.”

Levi smirks, contemplating his next move when his eyes wander to a mark on her wrist. It’s dark, a couple inches long, and vaguely resembles some sort of symbol. Without hesitation, he bluntly asks about it, the thought of whether or not it’s an inappropriate question never crossing his mind.

“Is there a story behind that scar on your wrist?”

Mikasa merely shakes her head, unmoved by the sudden query. “Only a relatively boring one.”

She leans closer to where he’s sitting, extending her arm and allowing for him to trace along the small indentation. “It’s a… family thing,” she says, breaking the intermittent silence.

His fingers continue lightly tracing along its short length, smooth to the touch. Funny how he’s never noticed it before.

Strange, he thinks to himself. Now he ponders the possibility of penning a song about it.

“So,” Mikasa whispers, drawing him out of his momentary daze, “when you do make it big, are you going to write a song about me?”

Okay, now she’s flirting. Teasing him rather with such irresistible charm ringing in her voice.

Levi realizes he hasn’t let go of her hand yet, and regardless if it’s the buzz or just his attraction to her, he’s not sure he wants to.

He suppresses another smirk. That’s right. She doesn’t know; that he’s written a few songs about her already.

But he doesn’t tell her that. He chooses to keep that to himself, replying in a low quiet voice.

“Maybe,” he finally mumbles, looking up at her, his gaze landing on the scar below her eye. He’s noticed this one in particular on a few occasions. It grazes just above the cheek, resting beneath dark lashes and wisps of jet-black hair. He’s unsure if he should ask about its origins, but something about the way she’s looking at him with seemingly innocent curiosity urges him to fulfill his desire to get to know more about her.

Levi ignores the tension growing tighter and tighter throughout his body, realizing no one has ever made him feel this way. He struggles trying to put it into words, frustrated that he can’t properly articulate the sensation raging beneath his calm demeanor.

“What about… this one?” he asks, reaching out to stroke the scar nestled below her eye.

Mikasa slightly shudders, but surprisingly doesn’t pull away. She lets his hand hover over the scar, his fingers tracing gently along as he had with the mark on her wrist.

She could cop it out to them being alone, secluded in a corner with dangerously low lighting. She could blame it on the alcohol, mere tipsy antics.

But she’s not naïve.

“Story for another day,” comes her response in a smooth, sultry voice.

Levi nods, understanding.

He wants to kiss her. He’s never been more hell-bent on kissing someone in his entire life, but he likes to think he has some semblance of self-control and patience; unlike his rowdy band-mates.

Then, to his ultimate demise, she does something that drives him absolutely crazy.

She bites her lip, as if in suspense, and he pretty much loses it.

He closes the already tight gap between them and presses his mouth against hers, indulging in the incredible warmth. She responds almost immediately by parting her lips, inviting his tongue to slide inside. She tastes like lime, and something unidentifiably sweet. It spurs him to pull her in closer, sliding his hand up to her jaw, cupping her face in his palm.

Somehow he feels dizzier, and her wandering hands and the way she bites his bottom lip playfully further intensify this heated lip lock.

They’re still kissing like long lost lovers when the clock strikes two in the morning. Patrons start to file out through the exit one by one. The bartender begins wiping down the counters. The remaining staff members commence the usual closing routine.

Mikasa pulls away, playfully chastising the both of them for staying out well past their bedtimes. “Can’t believe I’ve been here all night,” she sighs. It’s almost a gasp, though she doesn’t appear too shocked.

“Got a curfew?” Levi deadpans, eyelids heavy. He finds it amusing that she’s more concerned over something as trivial as the hour rather than drunkenly kissing someone she barely knows.

Although during their heavy makeout session, it honest to god really felt like he had known her forever.

Mikasa rolls her eyes. “No, I’m just never usually out this late, is all.”

“Ahhh.” Levi exhales, expecting her to bid him goodnight and promptly ditch his ass without further ado.

He’s taken aback when she grabs him by the hand and begins hauling away for the exit.

What was she thinking about? What was she planning? Levi has a guess, but decides not to assume anything just yet. They awkwardly stumble out onto the street and Mikasa makes an attempt to hail a cab right there off the main drag.

“What’s on your mind?” He feigns uncertainty.

“I was kind of thinking I wanted to take you to-go,” she replies softly but oh-so-sure of herself. “Unless you had other plans…”

Levi merely nods his head, the words straining to dispel from his mouth, only to be suppressed by the tender look in her eye. The lights of cars zooming by hone in on the enticingly dark and mysterious features sheathed within.

Ultimately, he wordlessly agrees to follow, figuring nothing else needs to be said.

Wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.

Years later…

When Levi does make it big, he seems to be the only one out of his small circle of friends that’s surprised. Many were certain it was his calling; that catching a lucky break and garnering all the fame and recognition had been predestined.

From his own perspective, however, he’s simply doing what he loves, and insists on keeping himself grounded.

Maintaining a low profile is nearly impossible for the musician especially with the recent release of a new album, spawning a surge in popularity among fans from coast to coast. People stop and fawn all over him when he’s just trying to take his dog out for a walk, or when he’s making a coffee run in the early mornings before recording at the studio.

He hates it. He really does.

But like someone once told him, he uses his voice for more than just the purpose of entertainment. He advocates for causes he has strong beliefs in and vocalizes support for various organizations that strive for the betterment of society as a whole. It’s one of the few things that keep him sane, convincing him the fame isn’t a total nightmare. Sure, it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be, but he’s grateful the opportunity to help make a difference is there.

A blinding flash jolts his senses back to the present. Today marks the first day of his nation-wide tour, commencing the long trek from home over a span of three months.

As he’s done far more times than he can count, Levi steps up to the microphone, other band members setting up behind him. Unlike the small suffocating venues from before, he’s standing on a giant outdoor stage, unmoved by the masses of screaming people shouting their praises in anticipation for the upcoming concert.

The crowd’s ready, but he’s still getting in the moment, the wild ruckus blurring into low distant hums.

Before he gives the nod to his fellow mates, Levi takes a moment to let out a deep breath, eyes roaming about the entire stadium.

It’s another giant sea of faces; people with names he’ll never know, with lives he’ll never learn about.

He’s taken back to that fateful night at the Colossal Bar. The night Mikasa came to watch him for the first time.

He’s disappointed that her face isn’t among those in the crowd like it was then. None of this would have been possible without her; it’s all meaningless to him otherwise. He glances down at the silver wedding band fitted on his left ring finger, thinking a part of her is still with him even when he’s away on tour.

A half-smile fades as quickly as it appears. He’s ready for the long night ahead of him.

Mikasa, his beautiful muse, his best friend, his wife, might not be there to watch him and his band perform all the heartfelt and deep songs he’s written about her all these years, but he’s immensely satisfied to know that she’ll be there when he finally comes home, waiting for him like she always does.

It’s the only thing that matters.

#rivamikajam #rivamikajam5 #rivamika fanfiction #rivamika #shigenki no kyojin #i had fun with this #10/10 would do again #all for my otp #mywriting

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