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jk9bangtan · 3 years

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ƬΉΣ ΉΛƬΣ YӨЦ GΛVΣ -4-

Series: (✎) On going

Genre: ♔ Smut / ♤Romance / ♘ Angst

Warnings: lots and lots of angst, a lot of hurtful feelings, angry Jungkook, Jungkook Jealous, mention of pregnancy, swearing, calling names. (Sorry if I forgot anything)

Author’s note: This book is kinda weird and has unique plot but believe me everything will go smoothly and the way you guys want it.

Teaser: “I don’t love you. I don’t. All of this was planed. He told me that he will give me money if I gave you to him in our wedding night and that’s why I married you. I love money I don’t love you”

Word Count: 1226

Exclaimer: This ff has nothing to do with real life events. Everything in this ff is from my imagination. The characters are not real (well, Jungkook is real but he doesn’t act this way in real life... you inow what I mean)

Parts: part1, part2, part3, part4, part5,…..??

Taglist: @jiminiepabo95 @giadalin

Part 4

Title: Protect Her

Whispers filled the place as soon as Jungkook stepped into the company. His black aura drove the women around him all crazy. They would die for just a simply look from him. They crave for his attention.

Is not that he didn't gave them any attention, he used to flirt with every single girl he saw, but today is not the case. His hard cold expression made the women around him fear to even get near him. "What's wrong with him?" They whispered whenever their gaze fell on him.

Jungkook, in the other hand, had no idea what is going around him and he didn't want to know. His mind kept wondering what surprise that old man was talking about. He kept walking until he reached the old man's office, or as it says on the door, Mr. Kim's office.

Jungkook quickly opened the door after knocking it for once not even letting the old man say a word.

As soon as he walked in, he took a seat on the chair beside the table. "I am here, what's the surprise" Jungkook said raising his head in a questioning way.

"Woh! Calm down curious boy. You will see the surprise in a bit." Mr.Kim replayed with a smirk on his face.

Jungkook nodded a response, leaning his back against the chair. His legs kept shaking as he patiently waited. The old man looked at him with a confused look on his face, "Why don't you go to your office?" He said looking at Jungkook.

"I will wait here" Jungkook answered not spearing a glance towards the old man.

The knock on the door grabbed their attention. Both of them turned towards the door when i guy suddenly walked in.

"Mr.Kim, she is here" he said glancing at Jungkook.

"Good!! Let's go!" Mr.Kim cheered standing up and quickly walking out of the office.

The guy gave a last glance towards Jungkook and that look was enough to make Jungkook wonder if this man was the same man who is known as one of his close friends.

"Taehyung?! What's wrong?" Jungkook asked walking towards him.

"Nothing! Let's go." he said walking his way out.

As soon as Jungkook walked out of the office his eyes landed on the amount of people surrounding his boss.

"Today there will be a new person joining our company. She is a really great person and really close to me." Mr.Kim said making eye contact with everyone. His gaze moved to the side and met with Jungkook's own eyes. His lips curved into a smirk as soon as he saw the confusion on Jungkook's face.

"Come on in...... Y/n!" He announced his eyes still on Jungkook watching him opening his eyes in shock as soon as he said her name.

Jungkook's gaze fall on y/n as she walked towards that old man. *Why is she here?" He asked himself. But when his eyes fall on what she was wearing they turned red as blood. *What is she even wearing?* he scoffed. Jungkook's gaze kept roaming on her body.

Her tight skirt and tight top that hugged her body and showed all her curves. Jungkook's gaze moved further up towards her face. But when he saw her smile he quickly stopped. Her smile drove him crazy. Jungkook looked at where y/n was looking, curious of whose ever she is smiling to.

As his eyes landed on the guy, his face went pale. *T-Taehyung?! Since when they now each other.*

Jungkook looked back at y/n as he balled his hands into fists. The old man brought one of his hands up and placed it around y/n's shoulders. "Y/n will be one of our most trusted employees. Everytime you have a problem or a question about anything you can ask her because she will be joining Taehyung and Jungkook's team from this day on." The old man announced, turning around and walking his way back to his office. Followed by Y/n and Taehyung right after.

Jungkook stood there still. *What does he mean by her working with us. Will she be involved in what we have been working on. I can't let this happen.* he said to himself quickly walking his way towards the office. However, Jungkook suddenly came to a halt when he suddenly heard twi girls whispering to each other.

"You saw how he placed his arms around her?" The first girl said nudging the other one with her elbow.

"Yeah! Disgusting people I am sure she is his slut or something. If she wasn't one of his bitches then why would he put her with Jungkook and Taehyung." The other girl whispered looking at her friend when suddenly she bumped into someone.

She raised her head, her eyes meeting a pair of furious ones. "O-oh Jungkook oppa? What's wrong?" The girl asked in a flirtatious tone "Hanna go away I think Jungkook wants to talk to me about a private matter." She continued as she acted all shy.

"No, stay!" Jungkook said looking at the girl called Hannah. He looked back at the girl standing in front of him as he said, "Since when did we have private matters between a person like me and you, Ari!" He rose one of his eyebrows in a questioning way.

"Are you sure about what you are saying?! Because as long as I know it wasn't her who he fucked a few months ago in the hotel room at 1:00 am. I think it was you wasn't?! It's sad to remember how he asked me to tell you that he is done with you. Also you were one of his sluts, yet he didn't let you work with us or even gave you a glance after spending that night with you. So please reconsider you thoughts before speaking them or else something really bad will happen to you." Jungkook continued as his eyes continually shat daggers towards her.

The truth is that rage rose in Jungkook when he jeard how that girl was talking shit about Y/n. The thought of someone calling her a slut or a bitch drives him crazy.

'She is not a slut' is what he said, but whenever he goes back, he wonders if she is still as pure as she was. Is she considered as a slut after he sold her to that old man?! He keeps thinking. If she became a one will he be the person who made her like that. Made her sleep with another guy who is even older than her father, while still married to him.

The girl he new since they were in kindergarten, who always tried to support him and ease his pain away. Who tried her best to take him out of his depressed self. The girl that had a smile that could heal anybody's wound. The girl that was like an angel to him. Like a very pure angel with a white heart.

The girl that loved him from the bottom of her heart is now no longer that pure angel. Her innocence and pure self are gone and by him. He is the reason, he knew that.

"I will protect you" Jungkook said after turning away from the two girls and walked his way towards Mr. Kim's office.

MASTERLIST

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missperfectlyfine13 · 4 years

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A Bandaid For Your Bullet Hole (1/?)

I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while now and I’m still not sure how I feel about it (I kind of feel like it’s crap lol). Let me know if I should continue!

Summary: Outside of Barden, Chloe’s life is harder than she would like to admit. When she’s at school she gets to forget all about problems, she gets to be normal. She doesn’t like to let people know about her life outside Barden, with the exception of her best friend Aubrey. Then she meets Beca Mitchell, and somehow she becomes the second exception. Will Beca be the answer Chloe has been looking for?

Read Below or on AO3/FF

“Our Sorrows and Wounds Are Healed Only When We Touch Them With Compassion” – Buddha

May 2012, End of Chloe’s Junior Year

Chloe watches sadly as Aubrey packs up her bags, her side of their shared room in the Bella house looking dreadfully empty. Their last day of classes was yesterday and all the girls in the house are working hard to pack.

Aubrey and Chloe are going to be the only Bellas left next year, so Aubrey is moving all of her stuff from their shared room to the room across the hall. Leaving Chloe feeling even more empty than she already is.

“You sure you don’t want to come home with me this summer?” Aubrey offers one more time, her eyes soft and sympathetic, because she knows, she’s the only one who knows.

Chloe shakes her head, “No I’ll be fine here. It’ll give me a chance to clean this house up before next year anyways. The other girls aren’t exactly cleaning up their mess.”

“Ok, but if you change your mind…the offer stands,” Aubrey zips up her last bag of clothes, standing up to survey the damage.

Going home with Aubrey for the summer actually sounds amazing, but Chloe feels bad. She feels like she would be imposing. Aubrey’s home isn’t the happiest most days with her dad gone 90% of the time, so she doesn’t want to cut into the little family time they’ll have.

Chloe stopped going home over summer after her freshmen year. Her mom has only gotten worse in the last 6 years, making her near to impossible to be around. Not to mention the endless stream of men in and out of their house. Her brother Jake isn’t an option either, with him being on the road for his job most days. Which leaves her with her only other option, staying on campus all summer.

“I appreciate it,” Chloe thanks her best friend quietly, knowing she won’t take her up on her offer.

“Have you talked to her lately?” she immediately knows who Aubrey is talking about.

Chloe shakes her head, “No. I know nothing has changed…she knows I won’t come home unless she gets her shit together.”

“I’m sorry it has to be that way,” Aubrey reaches a hand out and places it on her shoulder.

“Yea me too.”

************

September 2005

Chloe watches grimly as her mom polishes off her second beer of the morning. There’s an empty case next to her recliner in the living room, providing an awful memory of the night before. She had been angry, angrier than Chloe ever remembers her being. Chloe locked herself in her room and hadn’t come out until this morning.

“Mom,” she tries to keep her voice steady and strong, but it still quivers betrayingly, “the funeral is in an hour…are you going to be ready?”

“I’ll be ready,” she replies flatly, tossing her empty bottle into the recycle bin.

“Grandma and grandpa are coming to pick me up,” Chloe clarifies.

It sounds awful, but she doesn’t trust her mom not to be drunk. She doesn’t want to ride in a car with her. Chloe would drive the both of them, but she only has her temporary license. She’s not 16 until next year.

“They could take you too,” she offers quietly.

Her mom shakes her head, “I’ll be fine to drive myself…I could drive you too.”

“Um that’s ok,” she shifts anxiously between her two feet, “just be careful.”

Her mom gives her a dark stare, before cracking open another beer. She always liked a drink, but it was something that never got in the way of her life. It never got in the way until her dad died. The day the call came that he had been in a car accident and most likely wasn’t going to make it, her mom just lost it. She hasn’t been the same since. Well, neither has Chloe.

Chloe and her dad were so close. She always got along better with him than her mom. A part of her died that day and she’ll never get it back. The only other person in the world who gets her like her dad, is her older brother Jake. Jake is in college across the country, so Chloe rarely sees him. He flew into town yesterday, but after assessing the situation, he refused to stay at the house, checking himself into a hotel instead. Chloe almost hates him a little for it, for leaving her here with their mom. Regardless of her feelings about him chickening out, she’s aching to see him. Chloe just needs a hug; she needs to talk to him. She needs someone else around her, someone other than her drunk mother.

Chloe’s still worried about her mom driving, so she throws a last-ditch effort at her, “I could see if Jake could come pick you up?”

Her mom scoffs loudly, “He didn’t even want to come home, what makes you think he’s going to pick me up.”

She’s clearly not winning this one, “Ok, well I’m going to go put my dress on before grandpa gets here.”

************

The funeral is just as painful as Chloe had assumed it would be. It makes it real, she’s really saying goodbye to her dad. She’s really left here with her mom.

Chloe’s not sure her mom will ever pull it back together and that scares her. She smelled like a 12 pack of miller light when she got to the church. As person after person walks up to her to give their condolences, Chloe cringes. She knows they can smell it too, it’s embarrassing.

“You going to be ok with her Chlo?” Jake walks up to her, the two standing side by side watching as their childhood pastor talks to their inebriated mother.

Chloe sighs deeply, “I’m going to have to be, someone needs to watch after her. I’m worried Jake.”

“I am too,” Jake runs a hand through his hair anxiously, “you know I’m only a phone call away though.”

“Like you can do anything to actually help though, you didn’t even stay at the house last night,” Chloe replies bitterly.

“I’m sorry about that,” he shuffles his feet nervously, “I couldn’t bear to watch the train wreck…I should have been there.”

“Dad would want someone to make sure she’s ok,” Chloe swallows back tears as she says it, “I have to stay with her.”

“He loved you so much Chloe, he’d want you to be safe and happy.”

Chloe knows that’s true, but in three years she’ll be in college. She has an out, she owes it to her dad to hang in there.

“I’ll be fine,” she forces a smile at her brother.

Jake pulls her into a tight hug, “Love you Chlo.”

“I love you too Jake,” she mumbles into his shoulder, willing her tears to not escape.

************

September 2012, Chloe’s Senior Year

“I can see your toner through those jeans!” Aubrey barks out into the mostly empty practice space.

Chloe cringes internally. She likes Beca…ok she also likes Beca. Something about the little alt girl drew her in right away. She’s not sure if it was the sass she dished back to them at the activities fair, or when she had an impromptu duet with her in the shower. Maybe it was her audition, where she blew everyone away with a simple song and a yellow cup. Chloe can’t put her finger on it, but she can’t seem to shake the brunette from her mind.

And Beca is talented. Aubrey has such a grudge against her she can’t even stop to see it. They desperately needed talent, especially after last years explosive ICCAs finals. The two of them had a hard enough time getting the girls they did, it’s a miracle they got someone as talented as Beca. Even if it took a little coercing from Chloe.

“That’s my dick,” Beca spits back, before turning on her heels to leave.

The response rips a quiet chuckle from the back of Chloe’s throat, but she manages to conceal it before Aubrey turns around. The blonde is red in the face, her hands shaking slightly.

“You don’t have to be so hard on her you know,” Chloe knows she’s playing with fire by saying something like that to her best friend right now.

She can practically see the flames roaring in her pupils as she turns to look at her, “Yes I do Chloe. She has an attitude and no respect for authority. Do you want any shot at finals this year?”

Of course she does, she’s not going to deny that, so she nods.

“That’s what I thought, so don’t question my methods,” Aubrey retorts quickly.

Ever since the year started, and Aubrey and Chloe took over the Bellas, there has been a certain bite to Aubrey that Chloe has never seen before. This isn’t the Aubrey Chloe knows, she’s starting to think she never knew her at all.

“I’ve got to get going Bree, I’ve got homework to do,” Chloe grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder.

Aubrey is staring intently at the white board in front of her, wiping away some of the marks she made on their master plan, “Ok, see you back at the house.”

Chloe rushes out of the building, hoping that maybe she can still catch up to Beca. She wants to apologize, wants to make sure the other girl is ok. Chloe doesn’t want Beca to quit over this incident, for some selfish and not so selfish reasons.

Luckily, Beca is leaning against a large tree right outside the building, large headphones covering her ears, her face looking down at her phone. Chloe stalks quickly over to her. As she gets closer, Beca’s head snaps up, immediately making eye contact with her.

“Hey Beca,” Chloe chirps, as the younger girl slides her headphones down around her neck.

“Hi,” Beca replies cautiously, like she’s not sure what Chloe is here for.

“I’m sorry about Aubrey, she’s been extra control freak lately, that wasn’t cool of her to accuse you like that,” Chloe is quick to get her apology out, Beca doesn’t look like she would want to beat around the bush.

“I appreciate the apology,” relief washes over Chloe, that is until Beca continues to talk, “but that’s a really dumb rule. I’m not even sure I’m into Jesse, but I should be able to be with him…if I was.”

Chloe sighs, “I know it’s dumb…and if you really do like Jesse, I wont say anything to Aubrey. I’m pretty sure Bumper and Fat Amy have something going anyways.”

Beca wrinkles her nose, her mouth turning downward, “Oh uh wow…didn’t see that one coming.”

“Me either,” Chloe laughs.

“Thank you, I don’t see anything happening with Jesse, but still, thank you,” Beca says sincerely, before starting to slide her headphones back up.

This must be Chloe’s cue to leave, “Ok, well I’ll see you around!”

Beca nods, “Yea, see ya.”

************

Chloe wakes up the next morning with an ache in her heart and a sour taste in her mouth. She rolls over groggily and sees the date on the calendar above her desk.

September 14th. The anniversary of her dad’s death.

The hardest day of the year for her. Much like years gone by, she just wants to get the day over with. Go to class, go to practice, come home and go to bed. Tomorrow will be a better day.

“Miss you dad,” Chloe mumbles, clutching the locket around her neck.

The locket was a gift from Jake, a year after the death. There’s a picture of her dad inside. She hasn’t taken it off since the day she got it.

Chloe eventually manages to pull herself from bed and start her day. She goes to class, she tries hard to pay attention. She goes to practice and sings and dances like she means it. Inside though, she feels like she’s barely there. Her body is present but her mind is miles away.

None of the other girls seem to pick up on her mood, except for Aubrey…and surprisingly…Beca. She catches a few sympathetic glares, but Beca’s are more worried, presumably because she has no clue what has Chloe under the weather.

So, she’s almost not surprised when practice is over and Beca hangs around until it’s just the two of them left. Just as she’s about to leave, Beca walks over to her.

“Hey Chloe,” Beca pulls the straps of her backpack tight against her, “are you ok?”

Chloe nods and gives her a small smile, “Yea, I’m fine.”

“It’s just…you don’t seem fine, you kind of seemed really distant today,” Beca shrugs.

Beca clearly isn’t going to let it go, normally Chloe would jump on the opportunity to share with the younger girl, but she’d rather not share. But something in Beca’s expression lets her know that she’s not going to drop it.

“Um well, I guess I’m just kind of depressed today,” Chloe answers her as vaguely as she can.

“Why?” Beca immediately fires the question back.

Beca has never seemed to care much about any of the other girls like this. It has her wondering why she’s pushing so hard. Maybe her little apology yesterday spoke to Beca louder than she thought.

Chloe sighs quietly before answering, “Today is the anniversary of my dad’s death.”

“Oh god, wow,” Beca casts her gaze to the floor, “Chloe I’m really sorry.”

“It’s ok, I’ll be better tomorrow,” Chloe tries to reassure her.

The two stand in awkward silence, while Beca shifts around uncomfortably. This is Chloe’s cue to leave.

Before she can even consider walking past her, Beca puts a hand out, “Um, I don’t know if this would make things worse…or if you’d just prefer to be alone, but would you want to grab dinner with me? Or we could just go back to my dorm for a while and just chill, we could order take out. My roommate is going to be gone tonight and I thought maybe it would take your mind off things?”

Normally Chloe would prefer to spend her day in her bed and not move until tomorrow. But even under the circumstances, she doesn’t want to pass up an opportunity to spend more time with Beca and maybe get to know her better. Something tells her that spending some time with the other girl really would make her feel better.

“Sure, that would be great,” Chloe grins and Beca looks shocked that she said yes.

“Ok, cool,” Beca leads the way out of the building and towards her dorm.

“Do you like Chinese?” Chloe asks as they walk through the crisp autumn air.

Beca nods excitedly, “I love it.”

“I know a great place we could order from.”

Being with Beca already has her calmer. She’s not sure if it’s because of how much she likes her, or if it’s just the girl’s presence in general. Something about her puts all of Chloe’s anxiety behind her, it helps her forget why she was even sad today. Which makes her almost feel guilty, but she knows this is what her dad would want for her.

One thing is solidified in her mind now. Beca Mitchell is special and Chloe would be a fool to let her slip away.

#bechloe fanfic #pp fanfic #bechloe #my stuff

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

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Wonderland by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1

Or on FF

Tagging: @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda

Notes: I hope to add a new aesthetic for each chapter because...well work sucks and I need a way to unwind. :)

Substance abuse is a serious issue. If you need help with an addiction, please call The Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHS) National Helpline – 1-800-662-HELP (4357).

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Killian Jones

2 weeks ago

The hotel room was littered with empty bottles of rum and beer, it smelled of smoke, leather, and sex. The naked girl strung out on the expensive leather couch had passed out hours previously from too much drink.

“Lass, do share!” Killian tipped his glass back, the sting from the alcohol had been dulled six drinks previously.

The brunette gyrated on top of his lap, rubbing her center against his naked form. She passed the $100 bill to him and then began slithering a trail of wetness against his skin with her tongue. He pushed her out of his way to lean forward, rolling the bill and inhaling the white powder into his nose, his head fell back against the chair. His eyes closed, letting the feeling wash over him.

The girl continued her duty, eagerly sucking his cock while her hands caressed his chest. Her fingers trailed the flesh on his left arm, and he reached out with his right hand, grabbing a fist full of her hair and yanking her away from him. She stared at him wide eyed. “No, you can touch me anywhere but there.” He growled, shoving her back down to his groin.

He closed his eyes again, getting lost in the swirls of her tongue and the euphoric sensations of her mouth gloriously working his cock. “Mm, Milah.” He groaned.

“Who the hell is Milah?” The girl stopped her eager work.

His eyes blew open, looking down at the dark-haired girl who was staring at him angrily. “Mary?” He said warily. “Nancy?” He pressed his fingers to his head and squeezed his eyes shut trying to remember the damn woman’s name. “Janice?” he said snapping his fingers.

“It’s Abby.”

“Who cares.”

The girl got up from his lap and walked toward her friend who was passed out on the couch. “Fuck you.”

“I already did that, twice, and I don’t seem to remember any complaints, darling.” He leaned over and took another snort. His vision distorting slightly. “Get back over here, it’s not going to suck itself.” The girl reluctantly walked back toward him. “Abby love, please.” He added.

He took another shot of rum as the girl reluctantly returned to continue her task of pleasuring him. “You’re damn good at that love, my heart is absolutely racing.” He groaned, sweat pouring off his forehead.

She stopped her task, “You sure you’re ok, Mr. Jones?”

“What are you bloody stopping for?” He yelled, grabbing the bottle next to him, and tipping it into his mouth. His hand slid onto his erect member, tugging himself to try and reach the release he so desperately needed. “Do I have to do this for you?”

His heart really was racing. The girl stepped back from him, retreating to the couch to try again and wake her friend.”

“Who needs you.” He growled angrily. “I’ll do it my damn self.”

He closed his eyes. Dark hair invading his thoughts. Images racing across his lids.

“I love you Milah.” The scenes played out like a movie on fast forward in his brain. “Why would you do this?” Blurring, bright lights, his headache was blinding him. “Killian, you shouldn’t…” His heart was pounding out of his chest. “Oh God what have I done?” Red lights and rain?

Wait. Was it raining in his room?

Darkness was threatening to swallow him, he was screaming into the night.

“Killian, wake up.”

He could faintly hear someone speaking to him. He tried to respond; words didn’t come.

“Call 911.”

Present Day

Killian watched the land come into view, a bright patch of green over a sea of blue. It was a beautiful sight that he would surely have welcomed if he were here for pleasure.

“At least you’ll have a gorgeous view during your stay.”

Killian glared at the man sitting across from him, gripping the leather handle on his seat. “Yeah, I’m sure sightseeing is the first thing they sign you up for, right after racquetball and cricket.” He grumbled sarcastically.

“I know you’re upset with everyone, KJ, but you know we had no other choice, right?”

Killian looked away, glancing out the window again to focus on the ground as the wheels touched down.

He stood when the plane came to a stop and walked toward the exit. Robin got up and followed him. When he got to the steps he turned around and faced the man. “I think I can turn myself in Dad.”

Robin rolled his eyes. “I’m just trying to be here for you.”

“I think you’ve done enough Rob. Go home.” Killian turned and bounded down the steps, grabbing his bag from the pilot, and storming toward the car waiting for him.

“Killian Jones?” The man asked.

“Yup, I’m the lucky bloke!” He said mockingly and climbed into the backseat.

“Welcome to Wonderland.”

“Wonderland? You can’t be serious. What a bloody stupid name.” He mused but the man simply shut the door behind him.

The trip from the small airport only took five minutes, Killian watched the beauty of the island zoom past through the darkened windows of the limo. He slammed back against the headrest and squeezed his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Killian, this has to stop, you almost died this time. Do you think this is what mom would have wanted for you?” “And yet I’m still here.” “Is that what you want? To not be here? Because I can’t decide if this is a death wish or you are just fucking stupid.”

The car came to a sudden halt, he let out a long groan and peered through his eyes. The door opened and he stepped out into the sunlight.

“Welcome to Wonderland Rehabilitation Center, Mr. Jones.” The moment he left the car, he was greeted by a man in a security uniform. “Names Graham, Pleasure to meet you. I happened to hear the call that you were arriving and wanted to greet you personally. Can I just say how much I loved “Seasick”? That song changed my life, man.”

“Oh good, a fan. Splendid.” He said sarcastically as he brushed past the man and up the walkway to the entrance.

He heard the guard’s footsteps behind him. “I checked you in, but you’ll need to meet with Regina.”

“Well point me in the way of this Regina then and let’s get on with it.”

“You’ve found her.” A dark-haired woman was standing at the front desk, her dark suit and heels told him that this was a woman who liked to be in charge. “Regina Mills. I’m the Manager here at WRC.”

“I suppose this is where you read me the rules and tell me how its going to be, scared straight or something, right?”

“Something like that.” She grinned and gestured for him to follow her.

“So, you’ve met Graham, he’s my head of security, so if you step out of line, break any of my rules, I’ll know about it.” She opened the door to her office and sat at her desk, waving her hand to the chair across from her.

“Just tell me what I need to do to get out of here.”

“Ready to leave so soon?” She mused.

“No, just eager to get back to my life.”

“Ah yes, Killian Jones, Mother died when you were four. You lived with your father, Brennan and brother, Liam until you were 17, dropped out of high school when your dad died and started a band with your high school buddy Robin Locksley at 18.” She turned the page in his file. “How am I doing so far?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not here for a history lesson.”

“I wasn’t finished.” She cut him off. “Let’s see, got your lucky break playing in a bar when you were 22, signed to a 1-year contract with Capitol Records. What’s the name of your little band?”

“The Sea Dogs and it’s not exactly little.”

“Ah that’s right. Your 1-year contract turned into a multi record deal, didn’t it?”

“Aye, we won a Grammy, actually.”

“Never really understood your band honestly, the sea doesn’t have dogs. Never the matter, where did I leave off, ah your aspiring acting career. Three picture deal, isn’t that correct?”

He nodded. “Yes, the last film starts production in 6 months. Hence my need to finish this up.”

“You can’t rush recovery, Mr. Jones.”

“Then does this little story have a point, or should we continue wasting my time?”

“The point is, I don’t care who you are. You’re not here on vacation, this isn’t a spa. If you want to leave WRC, I expect you to work for it. You’ll find that we have many special people here. Movie stars, musicians, billionaires, the fact of the matter is, I don’t give a damn who you are. You’re all the same here.” She tossed his file onto the desk. “Addicts.”

His jaw was tense.

“The sooner you realize that’s who you are, that’s when your recovery can start and not a second sooner. Until then you’re just another rich guy hiding from his problems on my island.”

“Well, this was uplifting. Are all the sessions going to be this inspirational because I want to make sure I get my money’s worth.”

“You’ll have individual therapy sessions 3 times a week and group session once a week with Dr. Hopper. There is a cafeteria where you will have all your meals, any medication will be provided to you by Dr. Whale. I understand you are still in the process of physical therapy since the…”

“That is correct, I assume my physical therapy will continue with Dr. Whale also?”

“Yes. There is a gym where you can work out on your down time, as well as yoga classes that are hosted by our recreational therapist and dietician Zelena West.”

“Yoga sounds most interesting.” He mused sarcastically.

“Lights out is at 10pm. No sex of any kind.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“No sex. I would assume that is self-explanatory, Jones or do I need to provide you the rules in a book with pictures?”

“No Ma’am. But 10pm? Honestly, I’m going to miss Big Brother After Dark, and who doesn’t love a good reality show with drama, am I right?”

“I think you’ll find that the sooner you take things seriously, Mr. Jones, the better your stay here will go for you.” She glared at him. “Now if I can just get you to sign some paperwork for me and turn in your cell phone and any personal items into this bag. I will have it locked up so you can gather them when you leave.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, tossing it into the bag.

“Did you need to check your messages or send any before you turn it over?”

“Nope, don’t have anyone I care to communicate with.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you are permitted to make your first phone call after completing 14 days of treatment. After that you will have access to the phone in the lounge during the hours of 9am to 9pm.”

“Am I scheduled for restroom breaks as well or am I allowed to take those as necessary?”

She stared a hole through him. “Dr. Hopper is going to have a field day with you.” She chuckled dryly.

There was a knock on the door and a fair skinned man in a white coat poked his head into the room.

“Did you call me for a patient meet and greet?”

“Ah yes, Dr. Whale, may I introduce you to Killian Jones.”

The man stepped into the room and extended his hand, withdrawing quickly when he looked down at his missing limb and swapping the hand he extended. “Nice to meet you. How long has it been?” He asked, pointing to his lack of appendage.

“Long enough to not want to talk about it.” Regina cleared her throat and Killian internally groaned. “Three months.”

“I got the notes from your previous physical therapist so we will continue strength exercises three days a week starting tomorrow.”

“I can hardly contain my glee.”

Dr. Whale exchanged a glance with Regina. “Oh, Dr. Hopper is going to love him.” She nodded with a smirk on her face. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He remarked before turning and leaving him alone with the abrasive woman on the other side of the desk.

“So, when do I get to go to my room to sit and reflect on my life.”

“Ah yes, let me take you to your room now.” She stood, depositing his items in her desk drawer, and locking it behind her. “This way.”

He followed her down the corridor, noting all the windows lining the hallway with views of the ocean. He wished again that he were here for a different reason. “Here you go Mr. Jones.”

He stopped before entering the room. “Jones is fine, Mr. Jones is my father, and he’s no longer among the living.”

“Alright Jones, home sweet home.”

He stepped into the room, more windows looking out onto the island. His eyes settled on the two beds in the room. “Um, I’m pretty sure this is costing me a hefty penny, but care to explain why I need two beds?”

“You must be the new guy.” A man pushed past him into the room.

“This is your roommate, August.”

“Roommate? I thought this place allowed privacy and solidarity.”

“Did I forget that rule, sorry about that. For the first 2 weeks, all patients are paired with someone who has already completed their first 14 days.”

“I don’t need a bloody babysitter.” Lowering his voice and turning toward Regina.

“Think of him more as a buddy.” She appeared to be taking joy in his discomfort and anger.

“I don’t need one of those either.” He growled.

She turned on her heels and started off down the hallway. “Dr. Hopper will see you in 20 minutes. Don’t be late. Your buddy can help you find your way there.”

He clinched his fist, watching the woman click her heels on the tile until she turned the corner and disappeared. He spun around and stepped into the room.

“It goes by quickly.” His new babysitter was sitting on one of the beds reading a book.

“Not quick enough.” He tossed his bag on the empty bed.

“You’re that guy, aren’t you?” He stood up and pretended to look off into the distance. “Ahoy Matey there’s land ahead.” Killian groaned and tossed his clothes into the empty dresser. “Sorry, but you’re pretty recognizable.”

“Fantastic.”

“Secrets safe with me. No one cares who anyone is here anyway.”

“How long have you been here?”

“24 days. You get used to the way things work around here after the first week.”

“Not bloody likely.” He grumbled.

“Hey, don’t fight it, trust me, the first guy I stayed with when I got here has been here 6 months and still keeps breaking the rules, at this rate, he’s never leaving.” Killian thought about his situation. He knew the more he resisted the longer he would be stuck on this island and he wanted nothing more than to leave this place and get back to set.

“Perhaps you have a point. If you would be so kind as to show me to Dr. Hopper’s office, I would much like to get a start on getting the hell out of here.”

He followed the man down the hallways, a maze of rights and lefts until they exited the building and crossed a lush green lawn to a small building on the other side of the complex. “First door on your right.” August pointed toward the building. “Good luck.”

He stepped through the doors and was greeted by a friendly, curly haired man, “You must be Mr. Jones, I’m Dr. Hopper, but you can call me Archie.”

“Killian will be fine, Archie.”

“Alright, Killian, please join me in my office.”

Killian walked into the room, not at all surprised to see the long couch and leather chair. He nervously took a seat on the couch and looked around. “So, uh how does this work, do I lie down, or can we skip that part?”

The man laughed. “None of that is necessary, unless that makes you comfortable. Our sessions will happen three times a week, sometimes I may ask you questions, other times you may feel like sharing, but really, the most important part at WRC is that we make sure you don’t ignore the mental part of your recovery.” Killian shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He had no idea how he was supposed to sit here and share anything with this man, a man he had just met. “What exactly are we supposed to talk about?”

“How about we talk about what brought you here.”

Killian looked at the ceiling. “My bandmate, Robin brought me.”

“Not who, but what was the reason you chose to come to Wonderland?”

Killian laughed loudly. “Chose, that’s an interesting way to put it.”

“And how would you put it?”

“Forced, not given much choice, ordered to come, your pick I guess.”

“And yet you’re here.”

“Yeah, did you know that there’s a moral clause in contracts?” He clicked his tongue in his mouth in annoyance. “Guess I should have read the fine print.”

“So, you’re here because your behavior was deemed to be in breach of contract?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“And do you think your behavior was acceptable?”

“I think my behavior was no one’s business but my own.”

He nodded and then wrote a few sentences in his notebook.

“What? Was that the wrong answer?” Killian said dryly.

“I’m just taking notes, it doesn’t mean that I agree or disagree with anything you have said. I’m merely here to observe your response.” He put down his pencil and looked back at Killian. “Tell me about the night of the accident.”

Killian’s jaw clenched and he formed a fist with his right hand. “I don’t know what that has to do with anything.”

“Interesting response. You had attended a premiere for your first movie, is that correct?”

“What were you doing talking to him?” “We were just talking, Killy. He’s your co-star.” “Bullshit. Don’t lie to me.” “Killian, would you stop acting like this.” “I’ll stop acting like this when you start telling the goddamn truth.” “I’m not going to talk to you while you’re drunk.” “No but you’ll fuck him when he’s drunk, isn’t that right Milah?” “Fuck you.”

Killian flinched when he heard the man sit forward in his seat. “This is fucking pointless.” He growled.

“Neverland? That was the name of the movie, right?”

Killian stood up suddenly and began pacing. “How much longer do we need to talk about this today?”

The man shut his notebook. “This is your time, if this is too overwhelming for you on your first day, we can pick this back up in our next session.”

“Thrilling, I can’t wait.” Killian raced out the door, almost sprinting across the lawn before he found a spot against the wall underneath a tree and paused. He leaned against the building trying to calm his breathing. He said he would come here after his detox in order to satisfy his director, but he would be damned if he was going to spend his days baring his soul to a stranger about things he hadn’t even shared with his brother.

He agreed to lay off the drugs, he begrudgingly swore off rum to make everyone happy, but this went too far.

He was going to have to find a way around this therapist BS if he was going to get out of here.

He shoved off the wall and walked back toward his room, pausing as he passed the front desk. Blonde hair and gorgeous legs capturing his attention. “Name, please.”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Emma.” She glared at Graham. “Swan.”

“Say’s Nolan in my logbook.”

“Listen asshole, it’s Emma Swan. Update your damn records.”

He licked his lips, working his eyes down to the curve of the woman’s ass. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

Notes:

Here we go again... I will try and post an update once a week. This one will be longer than my last fic and requires a lot more research, so it may take a bit longer to update than MHFLB did.

#wonderland #wonderland fic #stacy's fics #captainswan #captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fics #captain swan modern au #emma x killian #killian jones #emma x hook #emma swan

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curlybookwriter0294 · 3 years

Text

Being a Roommate with a Half-Demon

Chapter One

Summary: All she wanted was a new beginning at her dream city of Tokyo. She didn't think that she'll meet a hot headed hanyo (apparently those exist) & be his roommate. She also didn't think that both of their pasts would collide and haunt them both in ways they even they couldn't imagine. SLOWBURN! AU!

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Inuyasha just the plot Warning: this story will contain mentions of domestic violence throughout the story please don’t read if you are not comfortable with it.

Roommate Wanted

Single male looking for a roommate, rent is $800 a month. Must be okay with me working nights and returning early mornings. Must know how to clean and cook for yourself. Also, you must be okay with me being a half-breed.

Kagome Higurashi leaned back on the chair that she was sitting on, her finger pressing lightly on the mouse pad on her laptop, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully as she reread the Craigslist ad that she had stumbled upon earlier.

The ad was quite interesting to her because she’s been looking for a place of her own for quite sometime now ever since she had moved to her dream city of Tokyo. However, it would’ve been harder on her if she lived by herself so she decided to scroll through this website Craigslist in hopes that someone would post an ad about wanting a roommate. Sure enough, she found an ad within minutes of her search.

“What did he mean by half-breed?” She wondered out loud, wondering why he would put that on his ad. She doesn’t understand what could it mean. She never heard of that term before.

She shrugged her shoulder as she continued to scroll down the roommate ad, trying to find some sort of phone number but instead all she could find was an email that was attached to the bottom of the ad.

Kagome sighed heavily underneath her breath, turning around to look over her shoulder at her medium size hotel room, thinking long and hard about what she should do. She stared at her half unmade bed, her belongings that she managed to get were laying on the foot of the bed. It has only been a couple of months since she started staying at this hotel. Meaning it’s been a couple of months since she had escaped.

Escaped.

The young raven haired woman still feels like she was on edge, wondering each and everyday if he’ll somehow come back and find, forcing her to come back to him, or worse.

Her whole body started to shiver violently at the thought, trying to remind herself over and over that he’s in jail and won’t be able to see the light of day again after what he had put her through. All that mattered now is that she’s safe, she’s alive, she’s in the city of her dreams and was finally starting over for the better.

Kagome closed her mahogany eyes as she took several long deep breath through her nose to calm herself down at the thought of starting over. “Your safe,” she whispered quietly, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “He’s not here. He’s in jail. You. Are. Safe Kagome.”

She sighed in relief when her shivers had finally settled down and glanced at the ad once more, debating if she should respond to it and send this Inuyasha guy a email.

She knew from the email that was attached to the ad the person’s name was Inuyasha. However, there was no mention of a last name.

Kagome noticed a date that Inuyasha had wanted the person to move in by, smiling when she saw that it’s near the time range for when she starts her new job as a full time medical records specialist at Tokyo University Hospital. She laughed at the fate and about the opportunity that’s sitting in front of her like Kami knew that they were looking out for her.

Her small fingers drummed lightly on the mouse pad, trying to do the math inside her head. The email specifically stated that the person that’s interested should have the first month’s rent. Kagome should have plenty of money that she had stashed away in her savings account. Just enough for the first month’s rent and she’ll be starting her new job soon after!

Again, she strongly believes that Kami’s looking after her.

“Alright,” Kagome muttered, clicking the reply button at the top of the email before she changes her mind. “Let’s do it!” She smiled warmly at the screen, pursing her lip while she typed out a response, hoping that he would respond soon and quick after she had pressed the send button above the screen.

It was the sound of a loud bleeping noise that was coming from a phone that sat laying face down on a small black night stand that awoke a sleeping silver haired hanyo from his sleep.

One of his ears that sit on top of his head flickered at the sound, making one of his golden eyes open up slightly when the annoying sound made that bleeping noise again, telling him that there’s a email that needs to be open.

“Could’ve swore I put that damn thing on fucking silent.” He muttered groggily, reaching over with a clawed hand to grab his phone, wondering who had sent him a email.

He moaned when he had checked the time on the screen and muttered out a few curses underneath his breath when he saw that the time had read 5:30PM, not even close enough for him to be up which would be around eight before his club that open opens at 9:00PM.

He used an elbow to prop himself up on his bed, lifting an eyebrow with interest when the email had caught his eye.

It seems like it was a response to his roommate ad that he had posted from about a week ago from that website Craigslist, a website that his long time friend Miroku had talked to him about one day. You could literally post any type of ad you want. No questions asked.

“Huh, someone’s actually interested?”

He used a clawed finger to click on the email so he could fully read the message, cocking his head to the side which made his long mane of silver hair cascade down over his shoulder.

Hi Inuyasha!

My name is Kagome, and I’m sending out this email in regards to your roommate ad that I saw on Craigslist! I am highly interested in being your roommate! And I can definitely give you the first month’s rent right away! Please respond as soon as you can!!

Inuyasha narrowed his eyes at the email, slightly taken aback that someone’s actually interested in being his roommate after he had read it several times to make sure that he was reading it correctly.

He growled lowly, thinking that it has to be some sort of trick. There’s no way that someone would be willing to live with someone that was a disgusting half breed like him. He made it specifically clear that whoever responds to the ad had to be okay with him being a hanyo and couldn’t believe that someone actually responded.

Again, it had to be a trick.

Inuyasha hummed when he looked back at the email, wondering if this *Kagome* person was a human woman or a demon, frowning when he couldn’t find any description of her in the message. Should he even respond to her?

Inuyasha placed his phone back down on the night stand and stood up from his bed, yawning loudly as he stretched out his arms above his head, making his muscles pop from the tension from sleep. He grabbed a random shirt that was laying randomly on the floor to slip over his head and made his way over towards the kitchen.

“Might as well make some dinner.” He said quietly, turning on the stove and went underneath a cabinet to grab a small pot so that way he could make a quick bowl of ramen noodles.

After his ramen was done cooking, he made his way back to his room and sat down on his bed, using a pair of chopsticks to scoop up his delicious noodles that he loves so much into his mouth.

It took him about eight bites before he finally place the empty bowl on his nightstand, burping after the last noodle went down his throat, sighing when he side glanced at his phone that’s next to the bowl.

It has been a full week since he had made that ad about wanting to find a roommate. Truth to be told, he honestly didn’t think that someone would actually respond to it or even be interested. He was actually going to delete it once he had woken up. However, it could really help him out, especially since the recent events that had happened this past month.

Inuyasha snarled angrily when he thought back of a heated argument that had transpired between him and his elder half brother Sesshomaru. He still couldn’t believe that he had cut him off completely! All because he didn’t want to join him and the stupid corporate lifestyle by working at their dad’s company as Sesshomaru’s right hand man.

Inuyasha had never saw himself working at Taisho’s Inc. He had always dream of having something of his own without his last name being attached to it. Thank Kami he had managed to open up a club using what he had left in savings, thanking Kami again that it’s actually doing quite well despite being a new night scene.

Even so, a roommate could really help him keep his lights on and indoors.

“Damn it,” he huffed out, reaching over to grab his phone and clicked on the email to send out a quick response before turning off his phone completely so he could shower and get dress for the evening, getting mentally prepared for work in hopes for another packed night.

“Thank Kami its fucking Friday.” He said out loud while he was washing off the suds of soap from his body. “Hopefully she’ll actually show up.”

Kagome,

If you are truly interested in being my roommate, I need to meet you before we can make final arrangements. Meet me at Club Tessaiga at 11:00PM. Don’t be late.

~Inuyasha

A/N: Here is chapter one of my story!! I’m mainly going to post it on my A03 and FF account! My user name on both of those are CurlyBookWriter94 :) please let me know you guys think of it :)

#inukag fanfic #inukag smut #inukag fluff #inuyasha x kagome #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha #kagome #alternate universe #modern #inukag au

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ego-driven-one-wing-angel · 4 years

Text

FF VII - Tseng Headcanons | #1

A/N: No one asked for this, (at least I don’t think anyone did?) But I was in the mood to write some fluffy Tseng so I hope you don’t mind!!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Tseng isn’t much for affection, but he does shows his appreciation in a number of ways only he’d think of. Sometimes it’s in the form of complimenting you either by intelligence or physical means (I.e. “you’re very beautiful today,” or “That’s an intelligent observation y/n.”, helping you out of sticky situations, helping you get back on your feet after financial trouble. It’s all professional in a sense, but that’s just who Tseng is in general

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Tseng’s friendships are all built up from colleagues, so you’d most likely would have worked with him to get a bit closer to him as a person. As a friend, he’s usually your more honest, straight-to-the-point man who will tell you as it is. He’ll give the best advice, and someone you could always count on in times of need.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Not much of a cuddly guy. In fact, the first time he’s ever experienced cuddling was when he was with you, how you nestled into the crook of his neck, eyes shut as the room went silent. He’ll be unnerved about the whole deal, but he won’t push you off. He’ll just let you sleep in his arms until you wake, but he’ll be a bit awkward through your nap. Since he would have no idea where to place his hands without waking you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Tseng is all business. He’s not planning on settling down. If he somehow ends up in a relationship with you, the plans for a family, children, the whole-white picket fence idea is still just as slim.

When it comes to cooking, he’s more of the bland-type cooks. He doesn’t put his heart and soul into it like many others, so food just ends up being subsistence to stay alive, that’s it. Many of his meals are simple and easy, and he won’t make dinner a huge deal.

However, when it comes to cleaning, this guy is your man. Not obsessive about it, but he’ll make sure everything is neat and orderly. The type to have his linens pressed every day, to make sure every pen has a spot on his desk, drawers organized unlike you’ve ever seen. Being clean and orderly is part of his job, so his apartment will look better than a five-star hotel.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would be straight to the point about it. Discuss issues the two of you have been having, going over why. He’s not going to give you nonsense to worry about and have an emotional turmoil over it. If it’s time for a break up, he’ll be the one to give out the news with a quick fashion.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Tseng is committed in the job, not relationships. There’s a hard chance he’s going to propose, even slimmer? A big marriage. If you happen to capture his heart, he’ll probably request the wedding to be small, perhaps elope just to keep it out of the public’s eye. He’s personal and private, and making huge deals out of something he doesn’t fully understand is a no-go.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s a gentle guy when he wants to be. Emotionally more so. He’ll try to understand your side of things, getting a full picture on all your problems and concerns and even opinions on his own matters. It’s not a normal occurrence when he opens up about anything, so when he does, enjoy it while it lasts. It won’t happen for a while.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hugs? He won’t do it. But if you happen to grab him long enough to get a hug, he won’t push you off necessarily, but he’ll be awkward when you part. Maybe a light red would dust his cheeks, but he’ll try to regain his composure as he’s walking away.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Tseng probably could go his whole life without saying the word “love”. He’s the type of person to say it either too late, or not at all.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Tseng rarely gets jealous, if at all. He’s understanding in that sense, and won’t allow himself to let his emotions hinder him in any way negative if he can help it.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are usually soft, and careful. He lacks experience in that department, so he relied heavily on you to lead the way. But his favorite? He won’t admit it, with his persona and all, but he tends to love when you give him a simple peck on the cheek. Sometimes in public, his ears will warm up to a crimson, and he’ll straighten out his tie as if the peck wasn’t worth anything, but later on, he’ll place his fingers where your lips met, and the sweetest memory will cause his lips to curve just a little.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Tseng is pretty straight-forward when it comes to the smaller humans, he tries not to be awkward, but he tends to not understand children as well as he should. He treats them much like adults, which sometimes works in his favor as the children will come and have their questions answered without fluff and lies embedded in them.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Tseng is up bright an early, adjusting the cuffs on his sleeves, inspecting his appearance, making sure it’s overall well done and tidy. Followed by a quick breakfast and finally one last check with his suit before he leaves. It’s usually fast paced, and it follows a very strict routine (one he’s had since he started working), so have fun waking up by his alarm every morning at five am.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are much different. Usually it’s time to wind down and relax from the stress of Shinra when he returns. He still maintains his usual stoic and professional manner, cleaning, setting out his suits to be taken to the cleaners, prepare for the next morning to repeat the process all over again. But when it’s all said and done, he’ll sit on his love seat to relish in the day, and you’re free to sit next to him. Fitting yourself right in the crook of his neck as you take a moment to rest. (Again, cue awkward cuddling questions)

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Tseng will be the type to reveal things through actions slowly. The little things like how he organizes his desk, how he writes in silence when you pop into his office for a quick surprise, the barely noticeable smile when you make him dinner or give him a snack he hadn’t ask for. He’s not an open person, so to understand how he works requires the utmost dedication on noticing small details.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Anger is sparse. Cool, calm and collected is his mode of operation.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Tseng has the sharpest memory in the Turks. He’ll remember every important detail about you whether you tell him or not. Reading people is his forte, so he’ll notice the tiniest things before you even do. Like how you take your tea/coffee, what your favorite pajamas are to wear to bed, the particular brush you use for your hair. He’s just as interested in you as you are him.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite memories of you would have to be the most simplistic ones. The times where it’s peaceful like having a dinner with just the two of you, or taking a nap together on the couch/bed. It’s some of the most mundane moments, but some of his favorite to remember through the turmoil he experiences every day.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Tseng doesn’t believe in being protected. He’s the shield if it ever comes down to it. Have you seen how protective he is with Rufus Shinra? Same things apply to you. He wouldn’t dare let a fly hurt you, and if someone happens to come after you, Tseng would be a formidable opponent indeed.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Everyday tasks are done in order under a schedule. It’s hard to be pulled out of routine when he’s done it so long, so he most likely won’t stop unless he has to. Other things such as anniversaries, gifts, important dates? He’ll remember them, written neatly in his calendar, but he won’t make the biggest of deals about them.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Previously, I mentioned his mind is on par with remembering everything, but only if he puts it on his calendar. If he doesn’t write it down somewhere, this poor boy will literally forget the next day.

When you’re trying to sleep, he has to check his alarm has been set, two, three, five times. The glare of his cellphone as he makes sure the alarm has been set.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Tseng prefers things polished and pressed. From his suit, tie, hair, skin, everything is cleaned and prepped prior to leaving for work. It’s not that he wants to be conveniently attractive, it’s just a part of his job.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

If you were with him for a long time, yes. If it was only for a few years, he’d be upset over it, but he wouldn’t cry nor grieve properly. It’s a part of the job, he says.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Tseng gives off health-nut vibes somewhat. He’s not incredibly obsessed, but he tends to choose things that are healthy and keeps his body well.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In general, messes. If there’s a way to get him irritated and unnerved, messy areas will do the trick. ESPECIALLY in his home.

In partners? He’s not a fan of those who are overly confident, especially if they don’t have the means to prove it.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Unbeknownst to most, he’s restless. Moving constantly at night all hours. Having to even go as far as moving to the couch or bench to try and sleep there. A few hours later he’ll move back to the bed, but he despises the idea he can’t get a normal night’s rest.

TAGS:@watermeloncavill @moonlighttreetops

#Final Fantasy #final fantasy vii #Final Fantasy 7 #final fantasy tseng #tseng #turks #headcanons #headcannons #imagines

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ferretshark · 4 years

Text

Meet Me In St Louis

By: @ferretshark

For: @wonkystank

Rating:General

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan, May Parker

Summary:

Peter really wasn’t looking forward to Friday, May was working and he already knew that Tony was going out of town because Lab and movie night were cancelled. He should just take the time to stay in and catch up on sleep. The problem was he couldn’t sleep because he couldn’t stop thinking, but he couldn’t think effectively because he needed sleep. The cycle was vicious and he wasn’t seeing a way out.

He looks up to find Tony watching him.“You know I’m going to St Louis. Why don’t you come with?”

“Go with you? I thought it was a business trip.”

Ao3 link

Peter stares into space, unfocused. He’s tired and everything he needs to do stretches out in front of him. Lately sleep has been hard to come by and the days are blurring together, even Spider-manning has lost some of its charm. He sighs.

“I’m sorry. Am I boring you?” Tony’s voice is teasing.

Peter blinks, eyes snapping back into focus. “Um, no. I'm not bored.” It was lab day, not that they’d accomplished much. The lethargy that had been plaguing Peter all week iswas still there sapping his creativity. He starts to offer up an excuse but settles for honesty. “I’m just... tired.”

Tony’s eyes darken with concern. “Yeah, May and I have been worried about that. Maybe it’s time for a break, Bud.”

Peter narrows his eyes a bit. He’s not sure how he feels about this new development where Tony and May consult on the regular about his welfare.

“So no school on Friday.” Tony ventures. “Happy said you’re o-ff.”

“Yeah, it’s a teacher work day.” He slumps forward, resting his cheek on his hand.

He looks up to find Tony watching him.“You know I’m going to St Louis. Why don’t you come with?”

“Go with you? I thought it was a business trip.”

“It is. All the more reason you should come along.”

Peter considers. Seeing the in and outs of running SI could be cool, but the travel sounds exhausting. “I’ll have to see what May thinks,” he mumbles out.

“She thinks it’s a good idea. “ Tony crosses his arms at Peter’s unimpressed look. “Might be fun to do a little light interning?” Tony’s phone chimes and he glances down. “Happy’s here.”

Peter stands, stretches and starts gathering his jacket and backpack. He’s not really sure where the afternoon’s gone.

Tony walks with him out to the garage, it’s something that’s started to become a bit of a tradition lately. “ See you bright and early on Friday. And, Pete, leave the suit at home.”

—-

Peter tries to go to bed early on Thursday, he really does. He only patrols to nine thirty , comes home, showers and packs his duffle.

He’s in bed by eleven but sleep won’t come. Tossing and turning well past midnight, he checks his phone again, up in three hours. He flips the screen down and passes out close to dawn.

By some miracle he’s awake at five thirty, grabs a quick breakfast and is downstairs ready when the black Bently pulls up to the curb. The door and trunk locks disengage.

“Quick! Get in.” Happy yells through the windows.

Peter barely has time to throw his bag in the open trunk and get the door shut before Happy’s veering back out into traffic. He peers at Peter in the rear view mirror. “Buckle up!”

“Ok, ok I‘m working on it.” Peter pulls the belt and snaps the buckle into place. “Where’s Mr. Stark?”

“He’s meeting us there.” Happy answers, accelerating through a yellow light.

Sometime later, they pull up in front of the private jet hanger. Peter hops out and waits while Happy grabs their bags. The jet sits on the tarmac, and it gives Peter flashbacks of another trip not so long ago. The steps to the passenger cabin lower and Happy hurries inside with the luggage only to poke his head out again.

“Can you tell Tony we’re ready to go? His stuff’s already here but I think he’s in the hanger.”

Peter looks over to the tan building waiting off. “Uh, sure.” He steps inside the open building and sure enough Tony is there, tapping away on his mobile.

“I thought you said no suits.” Peter gestures to the Iron Man suit standing in sentry mode over in the corner of the hanger.

“Do as I say not as I do.” Tony says flippantly, not looking up from his phone. “Anyway, he’s staying here.”

The fact that Tony always talked about each of his suits as if they were wayward children but also proclaimed them synonymous with himself privately amuses Peter. He looks fondly at the suit.

“So still not sleeping?” Peter looks up to find Tony’s gaze sweeping over his face.

“Not really.” He shrugs, he doesn’t want to get into it right now. “Happy says it’s time to go.”

Tony looks out at the jet. “Yeah, probably. Come on.”

______

The flight time stretches out as Peter stares out the window. Mr. Stark mouths an apology but ends up spending most of the time on his phone. He can see Happy hunched over in the back, sending emails.

At least the WiFi is plentiful. Peter spends his time wisely watching tik toks and scrolling through tumblr. He wishes he could rest a little, but even as tired as he is, actual sleepiness seemed out of reach. The tiredness he carries lately is settled down deep in his bones and leaves him feeling like he’s taking tiny sips of rest when he really needs to drink deep. The resulting exhaustion sits heavy in his mind, weighing down his shoulders. Trying to ignore the feeling he stretches out, putting his feet on the seat across from him.

Slipping his earphones in affords him some semblance of privacy, He starts up his Spidey playlist and dives back into the wonders of the internet. He’s not really aware when he starts singing, until he launches into an energetic chorus and suddenly he remembers. He bolts upright to find the other two airplane occupants regarding him with everything from amusement to irritation. In fact, it was exactly those two reactions, amusement and irritation.

“Oh, um sorry.”

Tony laughs and goes back to his work, still smiling.

Happy is playing a mean eyebrow game as he finishes his phone call.

Peter clears his throat and settles back into his seat <i>quietly.</i> He also studiously avoids looking around the passenger cabin. Fortunately, within thirty minutes, they're on the ground at the airport.

He stands and stretches while Happy and Tony disembark. He’s learned by now that the most important thing to do in these situations is stay out of Happy Hogan’s way. The man is a ball of energy as he secures their ride and gets the luggage put away.

Tony slides into the back seat and Peter slips in beside him. “Let’s go, Hap.”

Peter marvels at the views of an unfamiliar city through the car window, far off he catches a glimpse of the Gateway Arch, the city’s most famous landmark. There’s factories and abandoned houses, museums and concrete, but it’s also beautiful and green in a way that parts of Queens aren't. Maybe it’s not a fair comparison but, hey, Peter hasn’t been too many places.

They pull up at the Four Seasons Hotel because, of course, Tony always goes first class. Peter takes a quick panoramic shot and sends it out in a text to his best friend. Ned was going to die.

The lobby is all light and glass and Peter tries hard not to be intimidated. He’d stayed in some reasonably nice places back when he was in band, but really nothing close to this.

Tony goes to the front desk and comes back with keycards. He passes them out to Peter and Happy.

“We have early check in so go make yourselves at home. Same floor.”

Happy looks a little surprised, “They didn’t have your suite-”

He’s cut off by Tony. “It’s good, we’re good,” he calls over his shoulder, heading to the elevator. “Let’s go.”

They get to the right floor and exit the elevator and Tony hovers while Peter finds his room number easily enough. Tony lingers behind him in the hallway until his door swings open, making sure his keycard works.

Peter pushes inside to reveal a tasteful decor in green, gray and olive. The room opens up at the end with an enormous picture window, framing the far off bridge and graceful sloping Arch. His first thought is that he’d love to swing from it. His second is that he must be in the wrong room.

He leans back out in the hallway. “Mr. Stark?” He can see Tony down and across the hall balancing his phone while he tries to work his key card from its little paper sleeve.

“Yeah, Pete?”

“I think I have the wrong room. There’s the view um..the Arch?” He gestures back toward the room.

Tony’s smile is soft with understanding, “I know kid, I’ve seen it.” He disappears into his own room. “Try a nap, if you can.”

Peter turns back, his eyes riveted to the skyline. Slipping into the room, he drops his bag on the floor. “Holy shit.” He whispers and then executes a pivot and falls backward onto the incredibly soft bed.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls his phone out, thumb sliding across the cracked screen. The plan is to send a few quick texts to May, but the muse strikes him and he steps over to take a few pictures from the window.

There’s a sharp rap at the door and Peter surges to his feet. Outside in the hall he finds Happy, looking not very happy at all. The man was all business.

“Ok, at midday we’ll be heading over to Switchpoint Services. We’ll do lunch there. The meeting’s at one.” Happy hands him a packet. “Here’s your security badge.” He slaps a laminated piece of plastic into Peter’s hand, “Wear it,” he stresses. “Do not lose it.” He gives Peter stern look, bulging out his eyes to make his point.

“That was, like, one time.” Peter tries to defend himself.

“If you don’t have the badge, they won’t let you in.” Happy doubles down on the dire warnings. “And don’t think you can sweet-talk your way upstairs like you do with that lobby guy at SI.”

“Ok, ok Happy, I got it.”

“Meet us in the lobby at 11 and we’ll head over.”

Happy turns and heads off down the hall. Peter shuts the door and sets his packet out. He should probably familiarize himself with the company they were going to.

There’s an olive chaise and he sits down on it. He spends a lazy half hour reading over the history of one Switchpoint Services, a poly-global tech company. Their latest innovations were extremely noteworthy. No wonder Mr. Stark wanted to partner with them.

He flips listlessly through the pages again. Maybe he should take a nap, like Mr Stark suggested. He glances over at the bed, but the thought of laying there, wanting to sleep but being unable. His new unwelcome normal. No, Peter turns his head back towards the window, then leans his head against it. He watches the flow of people and traffic below him.

A brief pattern of soft knocks sound at the door, and Peter’s head jerks up.

“Come in,” Peter calls.

Tony sticks his head around the door. “You busy?”

“Oh, it’s you.”

Tony just gives him a look before stepping into the room. He walks over to where Peter is.

“You just standing here?” Tony’s brows draw together.

Peter shrugs, “Yeah.” He wants to confide in Tony and tell him about the lack of sleep, the inability to rest. He feels like if anyone would understand, it would be Ironman. The words won’t come though, but in the end he doesn’t need them.

Tony hooks the edge of the olive green lounger and pulls it in front of the window. He pats the seat beside him. Peter joins him and they sit together, staring out at the mid-morning crush. Everyone outside was hurrying, trying to get somewhere but in this moment, in this space, Peter found he could finally just breathe.

There’s something in the shared silence that does more than any amount of talking could have.

Eventually, Tony’s phone beeps and he leaves, telling Peter it’s almost time to get ready.

Peter changes into his “work” clothes. His standard blue-gray sweater over a collared shirt and khaki pants. Not snazzy, like whatever Mr Stark will wear, but it works. He picks up the packet Happy gave him, slips his keycard in his pocket, and goes down in the elevator.

Downstairs Happy and Mr. Stark are chatting quietly. Happy is in his standard gray suit. Mr Stark is wearing a fitted black suit with a white dress shirt and red tie. His eyes are somewhat masked by the fashion shades he’s wearing. Peter fidgets, feeling underdressed.

Ton smiles when he catches sight of Peter, “There he is. Right on time.” He claps Peter on the back and they head to the parking lot.

Happy ushers them to the car and they drive through the busy city to a square building with blue mirrored windows.

Peter steps out, looking up at the office and swallows, tugging a bit at his cuffs.

Tony catches his eye, “Nerves?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Peter says with a little more confidence than he actually feels. He checks to make sure he has his security badge and that it’s visible.

There’s nothing quite like stepping into a business with Tony Stark. He’s instantly recognizable and between Stark Industries and the Avengers, his celebrity has launched into the stratosphere.

Happy takes immediate charge or coordinating with the personnel on site. Peter follows close behind Mr. Stark as they are ushered into a brightly lit, but currently empty, conference room. It’s bigger than Peter had expected and he wonders for the first time just how many people would be joining them.

After quiet discussion with their guid, Tony settles in at the head of the table and directs Peter to the seat on his right. The chairs themselves are a dove gray with a surprisingly comfortable seat. Peter leans back and stretches his legs out in front of him.

“You hungry?” Mr Stark asks.

“Mm, yeah. I could eat,” Peter answers politely.

“Yeah me too,” Mr. Stark steps out and has a word with Happy. When he comes back, he has food.

“The finest box lunch ten bucks can buy. Complete with mystery cookie.” Tony tosses down a box lunch in front of Peter. Tony leaves and comes back with bottled waters.

They open their boxes and Peter pulls out his ham and cheese. This was one of those fancier lunches with the really good bread. He takes a bite and sighs. Hunger well on its way to being sated, he roots around to find his chips and a wrapped dill pickle slice.

“Chocolate, white chocolate chunk.” Tony comments, unwrapping his baked good. “What did you get?”

“Looks like white chocolate macadamia.” Peter keeps his expression neutral because, sure, he’d eat it. He generally wasn’t in the position to be picky.

He looks up to find Tony holding the chocolate cookie out, “Trade?”

“Um sure.” He knows he sound less enthusiastic than he feels but he is grateful - chocolate cookies were the best.

“ Macadamia nuts. You know,” Tony muses. “Back in the day, they used to serve pouches of these on flights to Hawaii.” He takes a bite of the cookie, chews and swallows. “For the greater good and all, but I still kinda miss ‘em.”

They clean up their lunches and Tony reads over his notes again. As the meeting time grows closer, the room starts to fill with people. There’s polite murmuring among the group and Peter does his best not to eavesdrop. It’s full to capacity by the time, a woman greets them both warmly and then calls everyone to attention.

“I want to turn you over to our esteemed guest, Mr. Tony Stark.” Applause from around the conference table and Peter wonders awkwardly if he should be clapping too. As he’s puzzling over the implications of clapping versus not clapping, the group moves on, their attention completely focused on Tony, at the head of the table.

“You know who I am so we won’t waste anymore time on that.” A confident smile curls at Tony’s lips. “I do want to introduce you to my intern Peter.” He gestures to Peter, who in lieu of saying anything, settles for a quick wave. He hopes he wasn’t supposed to say anything.

Tony continues talking, “I have a lot of proposals come across my desk, but this one was exceptional, the possibilities of application are endless…”

Peter zones out a bit as the meeting winds on. There’s a back and forth, then question time before the meeting ends around lunch time.

Tony drops back in his seat after the last person, a chatty man in a silver tie, files out.

“That went well.”

Peter is watching him and playing with a pen between his fingers, “Yeah, it seemed to. These guys are really smart.”

“Did you get a copy of the prospectus?” Tony asks, glancing over at him.

“Oh, no I didn’t get one.” Peter glances around his spot at the table, just in case he’s overlooked it.

“Here,” Tony slides the thick packet over, “read it.”

And Peter does, it doesn’t take him long to get to the particulars.

He pores over the details. It’s for a mobile robot that could source its own energy needs. It consumed metal by breaking down its chemical bonds and converted it to stored energy, like a battery.

“This is so cool.” Peter marvels. He could think of several applications just off the top of his head.

Tony smiles, “I knew you’d appreciate it.”

“Are you buying the patent?”

“I’m buying the company.” Mr. Stark smirks but then he holds up a finger. “That’s confidential, it’s not official. Gotta convince Pep first.” Tony had a leather satchel and he slips his documents inside. “Ready to head out?”

“Yeah sure.” Peter gathers his own papers. “Where’s Happy?”

“I have him running point on a few things.” Mr. Stark doesn’t elaborate and Peter follows him out. They drop their badges off and head out into the late afternoon sunshine.

There’s a silver Audi parked in a reserved spot and Peter doesn’t waste time wondering how it got there. As with most things involving Tony, it just was. They get in and buckle up.

“Any idea what you want for dinner?”

“I’m good with whatever. “

“Any thoughts? Now’s your chance.” Tony merges into the flow of traffic and accelerates, the engine purrs as it picks up speed.

Peter shrugs, he doesn’t really know any places up here aside from fast food restaurants and he doesn’t think that’s what Mr. Stark would want.

Tony drums his thumbs on the steering wheel, thinking. “You ever been to The Cheesecake Factory?”

Pete blinks. There was one in Queens but it was more for tourists and proms. Plus it was kind of pricey. He and May frequented the quieter, family owned restaurants around their apartment.

“Maybe once with Ned?” He really wasn’t sure.

“So it’s been a while?” Tony shoots him a look from the corner of his eye. “Sound ok to you?”

“Sure, sounds good. I’m totally good with whatever, Mr Stark.”

They park near the restaurant and Tony sheds his jacket and tie, tossing them in the back. They’re seated right away and the waitress drops off bread.

Peter is happy to find that the portions are huge and the bread basket bottomless. By the time they finish their cheesecake, he’s actually comfortably full.

“I didn't know Tony Stark ate anywhere like the Cheesecake Factory.” Peter teases

“Jokes on you, Tony Stark once ate a two day old cheese burger off the floor. Not one of my finer moments and also one I’d encourage you not to repeat.” Tony’s self deprecating smile almost masked the flash of emotion behind his eyes but not quite.

Peter falls back on a joke to head off any awkwardness, “You only do that with gummy bears, Mr Stark.”

Tony gives him a long look and then narrows his eyes.

“I was eight!” Peter says defensively.

Tony’s tone is pure skepticism. “Sure you were.”

The waitress comes back with the bill. . “ Here’s this whenever you're ready. Your to-go order and cheesecakes are coming. We’re just getting them bagged up now.”

“Piece to go?” Peter wonders.

Tony’s mouth quirks, “A piece? I got a whole cake. Pep would kill me if I didn’t bring her some.”

He flips open the card holder and signs the top copy with typical flourish. Peter notices in spite of himself that the tip line has a couple of extra zeros for their waitress. Tony slips his card back into his wallet.

“I don’t know why they don’t take Starkpay.” He mutters to himself as much as Peter. “We gotta make that more of a thing.”

it makes Peter feel funny to have Tony pay for him. He’s aware that Tony foots lots of bills but he doesn’t want the man to feel like it’s expected.

The drive back to the hotel is in comfortable silence. Peter doesn’t feel like he needs to fill the space with words, he feels valued and understood. He can count on one hand the places in his life that fill him with this kind of contentment.

“The Midwest isn’t a bad place to live.” Tony ruminates. “I’ve blown through here a couple of times, used to stay at the Omni. There’s a great little curry shop downtown, only open for two hours a day, but that is some great pakora.”

“What’s it called?” Peter’s curiosity gets the better of him.

“Mr. Curry.” Tony answers and then grins.

Peter’s laugh surprises him. There’s nothing really funny about it but everything seems light and easy right now.

“Next time, remind me to take you up to the bakery in Kirkwood.’” Tony says thoughtfully, “The cookies? You’ll love ‘em. He’s a fully trained chef with a little hole in the wall shop. It’s pretty cool.”

The sun had set when they were in the restaurant and the world was muted and dark. The lights from the stores and other cars blur together and Peter is overcome with a feeling somnolence. He can suddenly barely keep his eyes open.

Tony pulls the Audi into the hotel lot and parks it in a smooth motion.

“Hey, Pete,” He calls, his voice low. “We’re here, bud.”

Peter blinks slowly and wipes at his eyes with his palms. “Ok.” He picks up his things and they head inside. The lights of the lobby are a little blinding after being outside, causing Peter to squint under the glare.

Tony hands off his cheesecake to the front desk and they take the elevator upstairs. Peter slumps against the wall. He notices that Tony still has a bag in his hand and when Peter looks at it, he lifts it up and smiles.

“Happy. He’s a late eater,” He explains.

Peter nods, but doesn't speak, words are just a bridge too far right now, which is very unlike him.

He gets his ley in the reader and the door opens. Tony lingers for a moment.“You need anything? Glass of water? Pillow menu?”

“P- There’s a pillow menu?” Peter’s not quite sure if Tony’s teasing or not, but he considers, “Nah, I'm good, Mr. Stark. Thanks for dinner.” Thanks for everything.

“Sleep tight, kid. You did good today.” Tony’s smile is warm and fond. “See you in the morning, he heads off to find Happy.

Buoyed by the praise Peter shuts his door, showers and brushes his teeth. He nearly forgets to set his alarm, but catches it before collapsing into bed and falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

When Peter wakes up, he feels well-rested for the first time in a long time. He has to admit that this has been a nice vacation from New York. He showers, dresses and packs up his clothes and phone charger. He pushes the curtains back and takes in the view one more time. He’s kind of going to miss it here.

Gathering up his bag, he looks out the window one, more time before texting Mr. Stark and Happy that he was on his way down stairs. When he steps off the elevator, he finds Tony in the seating area and he’s just sitting down when Happy shows up.

“You’re looking better.” Happy comments, setting down a coffee carrier and handing him a cup. “Got your usual.”

“Oh thanks!” Peter takes his. It’s sweet and hot and he sighs into it happily. Only to look up and see Tony watching him with gentle amusement.

“Coffee, Am I right?” Tony smiles and reaches for his own cup.

“Yeah.” Peter takes another drink. “So the beds here are amazing. It was like being eaten by a marshmallow. Or maybe a cloud.”

Happy snorts and Tony grins at his phone, “There might be a future for you in advertising.”

They take their coffee and drive over to what amounts to an elaborate networking session with brunch being served. Of course, everyone wanted to talk to Mr. Stark so Peter kept close to Happy and munched his way through all four flavors of bagel. Not quite up to New York standards, but passable.

A few people do talk to him and ask about his internship. Fortunately, they’d worked the particulars of that cover story out long ago. He sticks mostly to the script, but tells one woman that he’s also into web design, only to be interrupted by Happy choking on his orange juice.

It takes a while to extricate themselves. Mr. Stark seems intent on making himself accessible. Although he’s not big on shaking hands, he does listen carefully when people talk to him. It strikes Peter that Tony Stark the businessman is a very different animal from Tony Stark, the Avenger, who shows up late for briefings just to troll Captain America. He’s glad he’s in a position to witness both.

They make it out mid afternoon, just beating rush hour.

“Pepper wants you to sign these.” Happy hurries up the steps and thrusts a leather portfolio at Tony.

Peter falls back in his seat, he’d slept last night but drowsiness persists.

The jet is dimmer than he remembers and warm. He can hear the scratch of Tony’s fountain pen against paper as he goes over the contracts. It relaxes him

He finds his eyes slipping closed. At some point he wakes up to find a blanket tucked around his shoulders and Tony watching him with a warm expression full of fondness.

“Go back to sleep, bud.”

And he does, easily.

He wakes to Tony gently shaking his knee. Peter stretches,

Happy’s head was rolled back against the seat, snoring solidly, but as soon as he realizes where they are, he springs into action.

It takes a while but they finally make it into Queens and Happy sits idling in the street while cars weave around them, honking

“This is for May.” Tony casually hands Peter a Cheesecake Factory bag.

“Oh wow.” Peter sniffs the bag, its definitely chocolate.

Tony regards him through the rolled down window, “Ok, take care. Stay out of trouble.”

Peter scoffs, “Of course.” They both know that’s a lie, Tony laughs.

“Bye Peter.” Happy calls impatiently, but Peter doesn’t take offense.

“Goodbye, drive safe!” He calls after the Departing Bentley.

Peter turns and bounds up the steps with the bag.

“May?”He calls when he opens the apartment door.

“Hey Baby.” May lights up when she sees him and he closes in on her for a quick hug.

He pulls back and shows her the bag, “Tony sent you a cheesecake.”

“That was thoughtful. Put it in the fridge.” She tucks her hair up. “You’re gonna help me eat it, right? Right?” When he doesn't answer her immediately she nudges him with her elbow.

“Depends on what flavor it is.”

“Thai tonight?”

“Sure, you know how I love a good larb.”

“And the larb loves you.” She quips pulling a plate from the drying rack and putting it up in the cabinet. “So how was your trip?”

“Good!” Peter washes his hands and grabs a handful of silverware to toss in the drawer.

“It worked.” He makes short work of tossing everything into the various slots and turns to look at her.

“What worked?” Her face is the picture of innocence.

“Come on.” Peter gives her a look.“You guys think I wouldn’t figure it out?

May’s eyes take on a serious tone and she reaches up and shifts a couple of his curls back into place. “He was worried. We both were. And for the record, you look less like the walking dead and a lot more like Peter.”

“Yeah, I feel more like him too,” He smiles.

“Ok, I’m going to go get ready for dinner.” She sweeps out of the kitchen, “be ready in ten!”

Peter grabs his bag and heads to his room, his phone starts ringing and he accepts the Facetime call.

“Hey!”

“ Just wanted to make sure you got home ok.”

“Yeah, Mr. Stark. You just saw me like an hour ago,” Peter teases.

“Well you never know, it’s a fast paced world, Mr. Parker.” Tony is leaning back with a washcloth covering his eyes.

Peter frowns, “Are you ok?”

“Just winding down after a hard couple day's work.”

Peter hears the soft sloshing of water, “Wait, are you in the bathtub?” He demands incredulously, squinting at the screen, were those <i>bubbles?</i>

“Yep, creature comforts and all, don’t knock it til you- oop, oh shit.”

The view shifts as the phone falls sideways, then a distinct ‘bloop’ and the viewscreen goes a blurry iridescent to blue then black.

“Mr. Stark?”

Friday’s voice comes over the blackened screen. “Mr. Stark is no longer connected.”

Peter blows out a laugh and then he chortles, he so cannot wait for the next lab day.

#friendly-neighborhood-exchange #@wonkystank #exchange fic #moodboardbyme

85 notes · View notes

incarnateirony · 4 years

Note

The government only allows the person working to cross over for quarantine so at the earliest Mish won’t be in Van until tomorrow so he’ll only be able to be in like 2 days of 15.20. We know 19/20 are filming somewhat simultaneously and scene 46 (probably the last scene since most epis have around 42) was already filmed. I’m worried that even if he films part of 20 it’s minimal and not part of the grand finale. The possibility of Cas not getting his toes in the sand with his family just hurts.

What part of “you’re completely lacking the rest of the context of whether that’s a directly experienced story, a relayed story, a zoom call during wife driving story, or any other potential context of that second to the fact that we already know he’s been quarantining in a hotel for weeks” missed you?

I know you guys want really, really, REALLY bad to be upset and imagine worse case scenarios, but he’s /already been quarantining./

Stop.

Or at least stop spamming my inbox trying to get validation for the whackadoo because you’re not going to get it here. If you want to get reason and points where you’ve possibly missed discussion options, that’s fine. But if you’re going to double down, I say again: save my previous ask if you’re so certain, come back at me with I TOLD YOU SO if I’m wrong in like 4 months, but don’t clutter my inbox with some weird dedication to taking the worst possible read ever.

Even IF you're right with amount filmed while already there and "only two days" he could easily be in a third of the episode like most of his eps. Ffs, stop.

Which, by the way, you’re not. All you need to get to Canada is an eTA right now which the Collins could easily afford to do. It’s like 7 freaking bucks to apply and go through due process right now.

Travellers coming from outside the US who are exempt from the travel restrictions (list truncated to ones the Collins’ could fit within)

temporary foreign workers

any person who does not pose a significant harm to public health, in the opinion of the Chief Public Health Officer of Canada, and who will provide an essential service while in Canada

any person whose presence in Canada is in the national interest, in the opinion of the Minister of Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship; Minister of Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness; or Minister of Foreign Affairs

a person who is authorized, in writing, by a consular officer of the Government of Canada to enter Canada for the purpose of reuniting immediate family members

Who is an immediate family member

An immediate family member is defined as a

spouse or common-law partner

dependent child

dependent child of a dependent child

parent or step-parent

guardian or tutor

Public health measures for travellers to Canada

If you’re travelling by air, you need to

pass a health check conducted by airlines before you’ll be allowed to board your flight

wear a non-medical mask or face covering during travel (including to the place you’ll quarantine)

*jazz hands* I think you all forget that the WB is one of the most powerful companies in the world and all it takes is one plea to a Canadian official to let their families come along and that’s it, it’s done. Covid test before flight and still quarantine by agreement and it’s not hard.

When you arrive in Canada by air, land or sea, we’ll assess your health before you leave the POE. If you’re a foreign national, and you have symptoms of COVID-19, you won’t be allowed to enter Canada.

You must have a plan to quarantine for 14 days when you arrive in Canada, including

a place to stay

how you’ll

get to your destination

get your groceries

access essential services and medical care

This plan is mandatory, even if you have no symptoms. If you don’t have a plan, you should not travel to Canada. Otherwise, you may not be allowed to enter the country. A border services officer will determine if you can enter the country.

Seriously.

And again all of THIS is a huge aside on people not getting how powerful the WB is and how easy it would be to wiggle them in, which again *is not necessary* to approaching the matter because *we don’t even know if Misha was there for the story he retold or if he’s trolling the fuck out of you over something his wife just said the kids did while he was calling her*.

And again, even with THAT, there would be a total of 4 days total filming at anywhere from 4 to 12 shots per day based on your worst case scenario, so again, I really don’t know why someone is coming to basically lowkey argue through anon just to post sad stuff at me after I showed the many ways this is being blown out of proportion. I’ll say it again: save my posts, if I’m wrong and Misha just totally isn’t in the finale at all, come back in 4 months and Told You So’ed me. Otherwise, like. Seriously, stop insisting on posting negativity at people and doubling down at them when they clearly disagree with you, wtf?

This shit is ENDLESS guys, wave after wave, year after year, upset after upset, panic after panic, and somehow nobody ever catches a clue about it, and it starts all over again every season, every finale, sometimes every episode, and more bafflingly every tweet that people leap several football fields of conclusions in a single step over. Every time. *wHY*

The logic of “WHY DON’T THEY JUST SPOIL ALL THE ENDING STUFF FOR US RIGHT NOW WHILE WE GET SUPER LOUD ABOUT IT” is roughly tantamount to “WHY NOT JUST POST THE SCRIPTS FOR THE ENDING NOWWWWW” and I’m so very very tired of trying to be gentle and logical with everyone. I was gently logical last ask, but this doubling down, I’m not gonna just keep going “Yeah ok pls keep sending me stuff that’s arguing out the side of your mouth and spamming my ask box with things you know I clearly disagree with”

You have a right to feel feelings, hell, you have a right to be sad about ideas. But as much as “it just hurts to think XYZ”, I think there’s an absolute lack of consideration that people spraying their incessant dark takes at people in the middle of a pile of global crisises for the sheer dedication to said dark take is itself one emotional black hole for the people on the receiving end, even if they very confidently disagree with you, it’s e x h a u s t i n g

Imagine being stuck on a loop having ten thousand emo takes being thrown at you even if you have an answer to all of them, but once you answer them all, they loop back over again from different people, and all the people try to argue with you. Doesn’t matter how confident you are, you can and will be depleted of energy and give a damns by the end of it.

Add in that chunks of this fandom try to make it seem like a cardinal sin to post positively in your own space or want to maintain your space as a positive space, while going around and negging on other people’s shit, and calling it positivity policing if they literally don’t want people dropping flaming poo bags on their doorstep, and somehow this has been entirely normalized. Holy fuck I’m tired of this fandom and honestly couldn’t be gladder the show is ending.

If people wanna spend months hurting themselves with things that hurt to think about and feel that’s their prerogative, I can’t control that, but a simple point to ask is if it hurts to think it, why be so dedicated to staying on a specific interpretation that is far from the only viable one? So you... don’t get hurt in several months? So you spend several months choosing to hurt yourself and other people? Sounds self destructive, can’t relate.

So one last time: There is no recent image of Misha with his kids. Misha has posted a picture of his kid with a spatula with no proof it was him that took it. As recently as Aug 19th he was confirmed to be at “someone else’s place” than his own when Yang was talking about quarantine, has had that background for a few weeks (he had the same painting--or painting style, such as a persistently decorated building--behind him Aug 6 and 8 from a different angle), and even implied pre-GISH that he was going to be in vancouver at the end of GISH. His recent streaming is not his house environment, does not match recent images of where his kids last were, we don’t know if he was even there in person for the convo, and even if he was, he could get his kids there if he really needed to. The entire crew has been intentionally cryptic about his location for a damn good reason and that alone should tell you everything, but if it doesn’t, just save these goddamn asks and come back months later if I’m wrong, instead of wasting my time and energy.

So your options are:

Misha is in a large suite, or rotated suites, in a hotel with extremely stock decor across its rooms or

Misha is malevolently finding copies of mountain art and matching hotel furniture to move around pretending to be in quarantine and getting a politician to help him lie about being with someone else in a machiavellian plan just to fuck with everyone.

QUICK HE TWEETED A PIC OF HIS KID WITH ENTIRELY DIFFERENT BACKGROUND AND POSTED A NO CONTEXT TWEET ABOUT A KID BEING A KID IN THE CAR, SLAM THE BREAKS.

The quarantine info is just extra, because I’m like 99% sure the kids aren’t even there with him right now. And that he is in fact in Van. But just a little note about how people don’t consider the full spread of potential before going off.

The logical answer to all of this is simple:

Misha went into quarantine only about 2 days behind the other guys (who started aug 4thish), to attend either day 3 or 5 shooting for episode 20 shoots mixed into ep 19 shooting which is why his colors are recently visible on the tape ball THEY ZOOMED IN ON DURING THEIR SONG WHEN HE SAID HE WASN’T ON SET “today” (Aug 20th -- a day they were doing NO EPISODE 20 FILMING UNLIKE THE DAY BEFORE AND THE DAY AFTER), because he’s paid by episode and not by day/hour, and the three stars will be fitted to what costars need flown in for a scene or two; Misha is trolling the fuck out of everyone’s anxiety, either with the kids being legally entered to Canada (unlikely) or by just second hand relaying some silliness that happened while he was calling his wife over the phone bluetooth (likely), or something else in that wheelhouse (likely.) and will be in Van a few more weeks.

The least logical answer to all of this:

In direct conflict with other script leaks earlier this year, Misha came in just to die deadeded in episode 19 instead of 18, and instead his death is the feature in 19, and he’s already shot his scenes and been totally happy with it as a cas ending despite being thrown into the trash the way fans keep imagining because of a random tweet with no physical evidence for the conclusion they jumped to from the tweet, and went home before even episode 19 filming is done, because people want to envision the worst case scenario.

He wasn’t documented in Van/quarantine location until Aug 6. He couldn’t have attended shooting until day 3, by all odds. Like I said, he came a few days behind the others. Almost like, gee, he was aiming to be there for day 3 of filming or something.

if you really think they’re gonna fly Misha out early just to literally film, like, scene 46 of episode 20 or something too as the new argument--I really don’t know what to tell you beyond the fact you’re dedicated to being upset. Another logical read of this is, as one of the three stars that’s going to have a sizable impact on the final episode, he’s going to need to meet other guest stars that will have a few scenes between 19 and 20, so days 3 and 5 probably have someone like Billie or Bobby or some other character that needs to be in both in the related scenes so they only have to be on site for one day of filming instead of weeks as opposed to the core stars. Take note several of the 28PartWhatevers are on the multifilming days, for example. Do some detective work. Figure this out past initial kneejerk when you literally know the entire cast is fucking with you at this point.

Whoever’s in 15.19 28pt4 and 20 also needed to be around for a Misha shot for 15.20 shot 46 which will be hella close to the end. Bet your ass. Be that Billie or Mary or what, I don’t know. Hell, maybe they got JDM to show up for one final shot, we don’t fucking KNOW. Same for 15.19 28pt7 and 8, the fact 28pt4 was shot AGAIN, and possibly 23pt2 with possible overlaps of 15.20 11, 12, 43.

Coincidentally, day 3 only had like 4 shots while we do know Misha had availability at his quarantine spot from PST onward. Of course, that would make sense, if the 15.20 scene 46 shot being listed first on the board means they did it first and Misha was home before lunch. Hell, his hair was still Cas-styled on his time on with Yang, as opposed to “I kinda brushed my hair today”. Light scruff, check, but full beard, nope.

Read as: That would mean he was filming for late/final shots of 20, not 19.

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justkindaoverhereobsessing · 4 years

Text

wind up

After an international move and six beers at a party on the beach, Tony has a chance meeting with someone... interesting.

Me, @why-did-you-just-lie-to-mcgee, and @indestinatus did a quick challenge... write a less-than-1k word AU alternate-meeting fic for the following prompt: ‘We kissed at a party and never thought we’d see each other again.’ Here’s my version!

Also available to read on ff or AO3

__________________

It's an awful idea to drink heavily and stay up late the night before the first day at a new job.

That's common sense, really, and Tony knows it damn well. He really needs to make a good impression, and the things he's heard about these people… well, he knows they won't be easy to impress. In fact, he's sure that he'll have to fight just to keep up straight from the get-go.

Why, then, did he accept a random invitation to join in with a beach party that he wandered past after dinner?

Whatever compelled him to say yes, he's now sitting by a bonfire, nursing his sixth beer and feeling very pleasantly confused. This is a new job in a new country where he doesn't know anyone—he doesn't even speak the language. Hopefully the Hebrew that he hears tomorrow at his new office will sound less distractingly musical than what he's hearing now does.

Hopefully, that's just the beer.

Silhouetted by bonfire light, someone—a woman—steps in front of Tony and says something that sounds mirthful.

"I'm sorry?"

The woman laughs, happily surprised. "An American?" she asks, switching to English.

"Good guess," Tony praises, a slight self-deprecating smile on his lips. "I take it you're not?"

The woman gestures with her beer to the skyline behind them. "Tel Aviv is my home."

It takes a beat for Tony to catch her words, because he's distracted by the pretty way the firelight dances off her dark, curly hair as she speaks. He can't see her face, but he's sure it has to be equally beautiful.

"Hello? Are you still there, American?" The woman sounds deeply amused.

"Huh? Sorry—yes. I was just thinking. About your hair."

The woman throws her head back, laughing exuberantly; maybe she's had more than one beer already, too. "My hair?" she parrots.

"Yep."

Still chuckling, the woman turns to sit gracefully on the sand next to Tony. For the first time, he can see her features—he had been right. She's gorgeous, just like most of the women he's seen since arriving in Israel on Saturday.

He thinks he's going to like it here.

"How does an American wine up at Chava Eshel's party?"

"...I'm drinking beer."

"What?"

"You said wine up—oh." Tony laughs, suddenly understanding, and the woman frowns.

"What?" she demands, her humor evaporating abruptly when she recognizes that she's being made fun of. "What is so funny?"

"I think you meant 'wind up.'"

Her expression clears, and she gives Tony a teasingly haughty look. "It is hard to remember silly idioms when you speak as many languages as I do, yes?"

"How many is that?"

"More than you can speak."

Tony laughs, and after a moment, the woman's holier-than-thou expression melts into laughter, too. "I'm sure you're right," Tony agrees, grinning. "I'm Tony, by the way."

"Ziva."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise... but you did not answer my question."

"Which question, again?"

"Why are you here?"

"This party 'here', Tel Aviv 'here', or Israel 'here'?"

Ziva wrinkles her nose at the intentionally obtuse question. "Are all Americans this dense, or is it only you?"

"Hey!" Tony protests, the alcohol in his system lending itself to instant familiarity and leading him to playfully shove her shoulder like she's an old friend. "For your information, I just sort of… happened across the party while walking down the beach. As for Tel Aviv and Israel in general… I live here now."

"You must have moved recently, because you do not seem to understand Hebrew at all."

"Oh, yeah, that reminds me—what did you say to me at first?"

"I said 'you do not say much, do you?' Now I see why you were quiet, however. Is this aliyah for you?"

"Hm?"

"Jewish immigration to Israel."

"Oh… no. I'm not Jewish. I'm here for a new job."

"Oh? What position?"

"That's… a complicated question," Tony decides wryly. "What about you? What do you do for work?"

"That is classified." Ziva's neutral tone and expression make Tony wonder if she's joking or not.

Something tells him not. "Alright, then."

Ziva laughs, making Tony second guess his assumption again. "Do you know many people here?"

Tony shakes his head. "You'd be the first."

"May I also be first to welcome you, then."

Tony starts to reply, but something calculating in Ziva's expression tells him that she's not quite finished speaking. "What?" he finally prompts.

Her expression loses any indecision, choice apparently made, and she grins almost predatorily.

"What?" Tony demands again.

"I was only thinking that you should start your life in Israel with something… memorable."

Tony blinks, surprised by her forwardness. "Do you mean…"

The way she slowly drags her eyes up and down his frame leave little doubt as to exactly what she means. "Oh. Oh."

"If you want. It is not like we will see one another after tonight, anyway."

In answer, Tony leans in and kisses her; he may be tipsy and slow, but he's not stupid.

He finds it absurdly attractive when Ziva takes charge after a few very pleasant minutes, tugging him by the hand across the sand toward his own hotel room.

__________________

"Everyone, please welcome your newest team member: this is Tony DiNozzo, our liaison officer from the American agency of NCIS. Special Agent DiNozzo, you will eventually work with everyone here, but for now, you only need to know one person… Your training officer—the one under whom you will work for at least your first six months—is Ziva David."

Did he say…

A woman steps forward when her name is called—catching sight of Tony's face, she looks just as surprised as he feels.

It's the same Ziva that he became… ah, very familiar with last night. What are the chances!?

His mind flashes to eight hours prior; he can still taste beer on his tongue and feel soft skin under his hands. Suddenly, he wants very badly to feel her skin again…

This promises to be a long six months.

#ncis fanfiction #tiva #tony dinozzo #ziva david #au fic #cynthia writes stuff too #biscuits challenge 1 #the biscuits #this was funnnnn!

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lifeinahole27 · 4 years

Text

CS ff: “I Come Close” (Part 3/3) (au)

Summary: They’re not really rivals, but not really friends. What they are, instead, is the best sex they’ve ever had. It’s easy and simple, even with the rules they have in place. So what happens when those rules start falling apart?

Rating: Explicit - This chapter contains dirty talk/phone sex

A/N: It took me until just now to discover I’d never added a summary to the last chapter. Y’all do know you can let me know when I fuck that shit up, yeah? Anyway, here’s part 2! Part 3 is finally finished and in edits so I figured I could get this whole thing posted before I go on vacation next week.

Part 1 | Part 2

Find it on Ao3!

-x-

Part 3

It’s not that Emma hates business trips. In fact, she actually quite likes them. She also perversely likes traveling, even though everyone else in the office complains and whines and drags their feet. Not Emma - she has her packing done three days before she has to leave.

The day before her flight, she double checks everything. Her business travel card is turned on with no balance due. Her carry-on bag is just waiting for the last few essentials which she’ll put in when she wakes up tomorrow. She takes a moment during her lunch break to check in to her flight and double check her seat. She scowls at the one beside her that’s still currently showing as unoccupied and closes out of the app, moving instead to the one that has her hotel reservation.

There’s only one thing that has not gone how she planned, and that’s the empty seat next to her. Not that she should care. She travels alone all the time. She’s more used to traveling alone than she is with others. So why does it piss her off so much that Killian won’t be sitting next to her when they take off tomorrow?

Their arrangement has been the best thing to happen to her in a long time. And that’s purely from a sexual standpoint. He walked in her office that day asking what he could do, and her brain screamed back “Do me!” so loud that she could only follow what her body wanted.

She took him back to her place, wrung every drop of pleasure out of him that she could, and told him she’d see him in the office bright and early the next day. He’d smirked, cocking his head to one side and considering her for a moment before he walked out the door.

A week later, they did it again. No talk of work, no backstories, no kissing. He bent her over her kitchen table and fucked her so good she almost asked him to carry her to bed before he left.

And so it began. It was a weekly thing. Once a week only. Always on a weeknight to avoid things like sleeping over and cuddling.

One day when she got home from work, though, she couldn’t get him out of her head. She figured it was just a rougher than normal day and she just needed a quick fuck to get it out of her system. Instead of changing into something more comfortable or even just keeping her work clothes on, she hatched a better idea to immediately get him onto the same page as her.

Off went all the other items she wore that day, keeping only her stockings and her shoes. Sliding on her coat again, she buttoned it all the way to her neck and tied it tight and hoped an Uber wouldn’t be too far away.

It took a lot of careful maneuvering to make sure she didn’t flash the driver or the doormen at either of their residences, but there was a strong sense of accomplishment when she made it into the building without incident.

The look on Killian’s face when she dropped the coat to the floor was worth it.

Even after they got done having sex, however, there was still a pit of something in Emma’s stomach. Something missing. And that’s when her dumbass brain decided that she should kiss him.

The frequency that they’ve been seeing each other for the last month is quite possibly a problem. It’s every other day, now. Still no kissing. But he kind of, almost, just a little bit slept over the night she asked him to tie her up.

Not that she fully blames him for that one. That was a marathon of a night, and by the time he came, he’d made sure she’d had six orgasms. Six. She’s never had a partner try harder for her pleasure than their own, and that’s including Ruby, who gives out orgasms like she’s handing out candy on Halloween.

Emma knows she wasn’t sleeping long when she felt the shifting on the other side of the bed. Maybe he realized where he was and what was going on, so when the bed dipped, she expected it was him getting ready to take off. Instead, she felt his lips press against her forehead so sweetly, so tenderly, that she’s surprised she held it together until after he left.

Things went back to normal after that night.

Sometimes they play with the restraints. Sometimes it’s something slow and sensual and just fucking incredible, but they still always part ways when they’re done. She’s been to his place a couple times now, too, and it feels a lot more like something than nothing.

Two nights ago, when she’d been getting ready to leave his place, he’d informed her his travel plans had changed and he wouldn’t be flying out until Monday morning. That left her on the Thursday night plane with no seatmate. She’ll still be with her team, but there was something intriguing about making this one “together” when they’ve always avoided each other on previous work trips. Plus, it’s four whole days she’ll have to go without seeing him, which just feels wrong at this point.

With a heavy sigh, and knowing that all her travel accommodations are secured, Emma throws herself back into her work.

When she shuts everything down for the night, she’s surprised to see Killian’s office still lit up across the way. She’s even more surprised to see him pacing and arguing with someone on the phone, his brows furrowed down. He’s usually so put-together at work: hair in place, suit pristine until the moment he leaves, shoes shined every single day.

Right now, his sleeves are rolled up, exposing the brace that holds his prosthetic. His hair is messed up, a product of the argument he still seems to be having.

“Well call me back when you get it right,” he growls out, and Emma feels her knees go weak just a bit at the tone of his voice. Fuck, she finds him way too attractive. She would give almost anything to be spread across his ostentatious desk right about now.

He turns as if hearing her thoughts from the doorway.

“Swan? Anything I can help you with?”

She wanders into his office, her fingertips grazing the dark oak she was just picturing herself draped across. By looks alone, he’s had a shittier day than she could’ve imagined, and yet he’s still the one asking if he can do anything for her.

“Uh, no. All good. Your place or mine?”

He checks his watch, another slew of curse words falling from his lips as he sees the time. “Bloody hell, I hadn’t even seen the time. Give me an hour and I’ll be at yours? I know you have an early flight so I’ll try to get there sooner if I can. I promise.”

“Take your time. I just plan on sleeping on the flight anyway,” she comments, coming close enough. Why is she so close to him? His tie is loosened and askew. Why is she reaching for it?

Killian stops moving all together, instead focusing intensely on the way Emma is nimbly pulling the tail of the tie from the knot that looked better this morning. She works the knot out entirely, sliding it free from under his collar and staring carefully at the fabric between her fingers before looking up to meet his gaze.

“Don’t work too hard,” she tells him, placing the tie on the corner of his desk.

His hand grips her wrist loosely when she turns to retreat, and Emma does her best to stay steady. He’s looking at her with an unreadable expression, his eyes darting between hers as if he’s studying her files. He glances a few times at her lips and she wants him to kiss her. Wants it so bad that she almost goes for it again. But his phone is ringing and she can see the moment he waves a white flag.

“One hour,” he tells her, letting his touch fall away from her wrist in order to answer his phone.

He’s there in forty-eight minutes, his mouth hungrily moving across her neck, biting at her earlobe as her hands make their way down to grab at his ass.

All in all, worth the wait. Again, she almost kisses him, and somehow they both resist.

But it’s still lonely boarding the plane by herself. It’s not until she’s in her hotel room later at night that the pit in her stomach opens - a chasm of unknown depths. The curtains are all wide open. She got an upgrade - corner room, river view, a little extra space with a couch…

She turns on the TV for extra noise as she unpacks her suitcase, meticulously hanging her outfits for her meetings next week and the conference this weekend. She’s just finishing up when her dinner is delivered, and she forces herself to relax on the small couch while she eats, the TV long forgotten in favor of texting Killian pictures of the bridges visible. It’s certainly not the skyline she’s used to from their apartments, but from this far up, Pittsburgh doesn’t seem so bad.

Her phone rings just after 8pm, and Killian’s voice greets her low and sultry.

“It’s been a long day without you in this building,” he says plainly after she answers. “Your perfume wasn’t lingering around any corners today.”

“Why are you still at work?” she asks, more curious than anything else.

“In my defense, I’m currently leaving the building.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I was working on the Apollo account,” he says, and while she’s pretty sure that’s not a lie, it doesn’t sound like the full truth. “I’m hopping in a car. Do you want to stick with me or should I call you when I get home?”

She wants to tell him he doesn’t have an obligation to either option but she stops herself. She’s sitting by herself in her hotel room. The company would be nice.

“I’ll stick with you,” she responds after a moment.

“Excellent. So why aren’t you out with your team, who I know for a fact are downstairs in the hotel bar getting absolutely pissed on the company’s dime?”

“I got room service,” she says, as if that will cover the whole answer.

“A better choice, in my opinion,” he admits. “Is your room nice? Where are we staying again?”

“The Renaissance. They upgraded me to a corner room. I have this great view from up here.”

“As good as the view from my apartment?”

“It’s lacking something… extra.”

“Darling, you tease.”

“I could do a lot more than tease, Killian.”

He’s silent for a moment, maybe weighing the pros and cons of having an erection in the backseat of an Uber. She can picture him cradling his phone in his lap, likely scrolling through work emails as they talk, his airpods snugly in his ears, judging how much the driver is even paying attention to him and his conversation.

“You could,” he says after a drawn out silence. “But will you?”

She chuckles, pushing aside the reports she was pretending to look over when he called in favor of sitting back. “I think I will,” she responds airily, taking a second of her own to decide how she wants to approach this. “The only thing missing in this room is you, preferably naked, stretched out on this king size bed.”

“Go on,” he requests, his words a little clipped.

“I packed before you told me you weren’t going to be here until Monday,” she tells him, stretching languidly as she stands from the couch. “Brought this cute new set of underwear. I think I might wear it tomorrow to the cocktail hour.”

“Or you could wait to wear it until Monday.”

“I could,” she sighs out. “But you know how much I love wearing new things as soon as I get them. They’re all black. Quarter cups. Lace.”

“Bloody hell, Swan. Hold that thought. Just -- hang on one moment.” She’s able to track his movements from the car to the entrance of his building.

“Tell Smee I said hello,” she says coyly, turning off the lamps until just the glow of the lights beyond her windows illuminates the room.

“Evening, Smee,” he says a moment later.

“Are you in the elevator now?”

“I am,” he responds. “Thinking about how much more I’d enjoy this tent in my trousers if you were here with me.”

“Did you just have to walk past Smee with a noticeable hard-on?”

“Aye. And believe me, I’ll get you back for that.”

She hums, listening to the sound of the elevator dinging when it gets to his apartment. She tracks his movement, listening to him set down his computer and keys. Then hears him suck in a breath between his teeth as he obviously reaches for himself.

“Feel better?” she asks, enjoying being able to do this to him so easily.

“Tell me what you’re wearing right now,” he says.

“I showered while waiting for my dinner, so I’m in nothing but a robe.”

He groans. “The things you do to me,” he utters, and the sound of his voice ignites the fire in her belly.

“Yeah, I can think of several things I’d like to do to you right now.”

“Tell me,” he says, his voice wavering. “Imagine I’m there with you. What am I doing?”

“You’re getting undressed like you’re putting on a show, as you always do.” She closes her eyes to picture it: the way he slides off his tie, the way he slips open each button on his vest. “You’re taking off each layer like you’re exposing a gift to me. Until you’re down to just those gray slacks.”

“How do you know I’m wearing the gray ones?” he asks, his voice quiet and tinged with disbelief.

“You always wear them on Thursday,” she answers simply, missing the sound he makes as she barrels on with her imagination. “You leave those on while you move to the side of the bed, looking at me like you don’t know which part of me to taste first.”

“You know what part I want to taste first,” he says quickly.

“I do, but you always look like it’s some life-changing decision.”

“I’d argue that tasting you was a life-changing decision, love.” His voice when he says it is low and rumbly, pressed right against her ear, and she gasps.”What am I doing now?”

“You’re taking off those fucking pants,” she says, not even bothering to untie her robe but slipping her fingers between her legs. “And you’re climbing onto the bed with me.”

“Damn this case, I should be sinking into you right now,” he groans.

“Yeah,” she says. “You should be.”

Her fingers are still moving, dipping inside herself before coming out and swirling around her clit. It’s a pattern she knows for a fact that Killian makes with his tongue all the time, and maybe that’s what she can blame for the next words out of her mouth.

“I miss you,” she breathes out before she can stop herself. The moment she finishes speaking however, she realizes her mistake.

“Swan?”

Struggling for a second, she has no idea what to say. Her fingers pause their actions as her eyes fly open and she works her jaw a few times but can’t come up with anything.

“I gotta go. See you Monday,” she rushes out, ending the call. “You fucking idiot,” she says to herself, ignoring the phone as it buzzes in her hand. She lets the call go to voicemail. Next come the text messages, and in a fit of panic, Emma does the only thing she can think of.

She turns off her phone.

In the morning, she forces herself to believe that it’s all going to be okay. She’ll just distance herself from Killian. She has a couple days before she has to see him and while she knows it’s going to suck - they really had a great thing going - she’ll get over it in time.

Taking a deep breath, she goes through her morning routine, taking a moment before she starts to order breakfast. After that she focuses on getting ready, brushing her teeth and hair, applying moisturizer and a set of under-eye patches to try to fix the bags that formed from her fitful night of sleep.

Moving to the closet, she finds her outfit for the first part of the day - some panel that she would rather sleep through if given the choice. She holds up the undergarments she told Killian about last night and sighs, pushing them to the back of the drawer and grabbing something more sensible.

She’s only managed to slide on the underwear when there’s a knock on the door. That couldn’t possibly be breakfast, right? Last night, she accepted that she would be waiting for at least forty minutes before her food was delivered. She throws on her robe again, unlatching and swinging open the door without even bothering to check the peephole.

It’s not a room attendant with a tray waiting on the other side.

“Killian,” she whispers, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that he’s here, standing at her door. “How did you…?”

“I may have bribed a member of your team to give me your room number,” he says. He’s forcing his voice to be casual but there’s a tension rolling off of him that she can tell he’s trying to hide. “May I come in?”

She almost declines, but instead she moves aside. As she carefully shuts the door again, he moves to stand behind her, waiting until she’s finished her task to turn her towards him and press her against the door.

With delicate movements, he glides the patches from beneath her eyes, smiling softly as he does. Only after they’ve dropped to the floor does he brush his fingers across her cheek.

And then he’s kissing her. Not the quick press of lips that she gave that first time she showed up at his place. These are deep, open-mouthed kisses that she reciprocates immediately, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“Did you mean it?” he asks before kissing her again.

She could pretend to not know what he’s talking about, but her heart lurches. She can’t lie - not about this.

“Yeah,” she replies, shuddering as his hand moves to the tie on her robe.

“Say it, Emma.”

Working up the nerve to say it in person is different than blurting it out on accident during phone sex, but as he pulls back far enough to wait, she realizes he’s not going to do anything else until she follows through. Opening her eyes is the first challenge, but he’s right there with her - his gaze patient as it meets hers.

He leans forward, ready to kiss her again, but there’s a knock at the door again. He steps back, pressing his lips together as she pulls her robe closed.

“Breakfast,” she says, giving him time to move further away before she opens the door.

He’s standing by the windows when she turns back to the room, directing the attendant to place the tray on the desk while she signs the receipt that she’s handed. When they’re alone again, he hesitates before he pivots to look at her.

“Emma,” he starts, but she cuts him off.

“No, let me,” she says, moving slowly across the room to stand in front of him. “I missed you last night.” Her voice is quiet, and she swallows hard when she’s done speaking, trying to maintain eye contact and not fidget.

He reaches out, grabbing her hand and urging her forward a few more steps so he can wrap his arms around her waist, his palm splayed across her back.

“I missed you, too. I was finishing the Apollo case so I could submit the proposal and fly out here early. That’s why I was at the office so late last night,” he tells her, and she can see why he kept that card close to his chest now.

“To surprise me?”

“Aye, though originally it was just so I could fuck you against those windows, but now, I have the stones to tell you that I want something different. Emma, I want more.”

“We work together. Don’t you see how complicated this is?” she asks, pushing against his chest lightly so she can move away and pace around the room. He lets her go but waits until she makes another pass by him to hook his prosthetic around her wrist and guide her back.

“I do. Believe me, I have thought of this so many times and so many ways, and every time I try to talk myself out of it, I just want it more. I have spent months just wanting to kiss you every time I see you. I’ve spent hours trying to figure out what I wanted out of this beyond a physical release, and I kept coming back to the same answer every time.”

“What was your answer?” She has a feeling she knows what he’s about to say but she wants to hear him say it.

“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you.” His voice trembles just the tiniest bit as the words come out, and it surprises her when a tear rolls down her cheek.

All this time, they’ve both been exercising the most restraint they could manage, and now it’s all out in the open. His hand trails up her arm, moving until he’s cupping her cheek and bending slightly to kiss her softly.

She’s the one that shifts the tone this time, melding against him as one of her hands ends up in his hair and she’s lost to the way he tastes. Does he always taste this way in the morning? What is that hint she’s getting?

“You taste like tomato juice. Bloody Mary?”

“A spike of confidence. Light on the vodka. When does the revenue management panel begin?”

“Who cares? No one will miss us. Spend the day with me, instead?”

“As soon as I retrieve my luggage from the front desk, I’d be happy to.”

“That’s easy enough to take care of,” she responds, reaching for the phone beside her bed. After arranging to have his luggage delivered to her room, she has a thought. Covering the receiver of the phone, she turns to where Killian is helping himself to her coffee and flipping through the notes for the conference. “Hey, do you want to stay with me for the week?”

After a moment of shock, he wanders over, kissing her forehead quickly before taking the phone from her. “Yes, hello? This is Killian Jones. I had a reservation starting on Monday but I won’t be needing it any longer. Can you change the name on that to Will Scarlett? Yes. Thank you.”

At her questioning look, Killian shrugs. “He had to add on late and is stuck sharing a room with Victor. At least now he can move to his own room on Monday.”

“So gentlemanly of you.”

“I’m always a gentleman, Swan. Now, why don’t we split this breakfast and see what’s on Netflix, hmm?”

For the rest of the day, they lounge in the bed, dining on nothing but room service, and it’s not until well past lunch that Killian works apart the knot tying her robe, taking his time to savor every inch of skin he comes across.

When Emma wakes up in the morning, Killian is still in the bed beside her, and there’s no movement from either of them to escape away. Instead, where they’d rolled apart during the night, she shifts across the distance and tucks herself into his side to snooze for just five more minutes.

By the time they fly home on Thursday, they’ve set up a time for an actual date to take place during the weekend, and the rules they’d established before go right out the window. And during this flight, she doesn’t glare once at the seat next to her because it’s occupied by the right person this time.

#cs ff au #cs smut #captain swan #captain swan ff #sarah writes ff

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ninjakasuga · 4 years

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Sonally Headcanon Prompt Masterpost.

Before the Sonsal Celebration Week, Year 2 hosted by @gojira007 for their @boundforfreedomsonsal blog, I began posting a series of Sonsal/Sonally headcanon prompts to help get folks stoked as well as just have some fun. Here is a master post showcasing all three series of prompts with my answers being under the cut. Since this is tied to the blog, I’ve nixed the NSFW prompts in the first set and will make a second post for those by themselves without tagging in the blog.

I can’t wait to see what others respond, while some of y’all did, it seemed like my third series of prompts flew under the radar as nobody replied to them. Oh well, I probably didn’t tag them right XD. In any case, enjoy the goodness! My answers will be below the cut.

1: Pet Names? 2: Habits as a couple they develop together? 3: Favorite ways their significant other shows their affection for them? 4: Their least favorite trait about the other that often causes occasional friction? 5: The moment they fully realized they were in love with the other?

6: How the marriage proposal goes and who asks first? 7: Kids, if yes how many? 8: What would a normal non-eventful evening at home for the two be like? 9: Adoption! Yes/No, Why? 10: Their Anniversary approaches! What would each do?

11: Favorite Vacation they took as a couple? 12: A special gift they gave the other that really touched their heart. 13: Sally’s pregnant, how do they handle the pregnancy ups and downs? 14: Parenting, how do they tackle it together? 15: Which of them is the parent to freak out most when their kid/s get into the dating age? 16: Who starfishes the most? 17: Oh no, one of them is sick, how do they handle tending to their loved one? 18: What do each of them do to ‘cool off’ when they have an argument they can’t seem to reach a compromise over? 19: The Wedding, big, small, or do they just elope? 20: Speaking of weddings, time for one of their kids (or their only child) to get married! How do they handle it?

21: GRANDCHILDREN!! Their kid(s) just made them Grandparents, what kind do you see them as? 22: The years come and go, as they leave their youth and start to get into the years between 50-70, what are they up too, where do you see them in their retirement years? 23: Time to host a family reunion (including extended family like the FF crew) 24: Awwww they’re having their 50th wedding anniversary, how do you see it going? 25: As with every life, there is death. One of them has passed, how does the other handle it? (for context this is under the assumption old age or something related did them in versus a sudden death by accident)

1: Aside from the ‘Sal’ nickname Sonic has always given our favorite Princess; I personally see a few unique nicknames between the two crop up over time as their romance blossoms. Sonic being the quip-meister he is mixes affection with a bit of humor giving us ‘Honey-Munk’ or ‘Fiery Red’. Sally naturally isn’t one to not give her own spin in kind with titles such as ‘Greeny Eyes’ or ‘Hunky-Hog’. Both aiming for endearing but also teasing the other with cheese when not using more ‘traditional’ romantic pet names like honey or darling. Keep them both on their toes.

2: When sitting together and they have a free hand, they instantly go for a hand-hold on reflex. Another one I see them developing is little touches or pets of affection; another ingrained reflex after a time. Say Sonic is about to walk away, he gives Sally’s hair a little playful pet and flick. Another instance is either of them giving the other a quick peck be it greeting, leaving or they have a mutual eureka moment.

3: Sally finds that as much as Sonic’s spontaneous behavior can be exasperating, it can also be endearing when applied in certain ways. Like a back or shoulder rub here and there, when she’s stressed. Pick-me ups when she’s down in the dumps and as corny or awful some of his ballads are, the effort is endearing for Sally. On Sonic’s end, he enjoys Sally just going on runs with him. No mission, no need for any ceremony, he just pops over, asks if she wants to hang, she agrees and they run off and just, enjoy the day. Probably make out somewhere in private too XD.

4: Stubbornness is something both suffer from and their own unique flavors of it can be the force that drives them up a wall. Be it Sonic’s impulsive behavior, or Sally being too cautious, if they don’t see eye to eye, sometimes it takes a while before they reach a compromise. Sometimes it comes fast, others, not so much and when it doesn’t both need space to cool off.

5: This varies from continuity to continuity, but ultimately I feel the mutual feelings of love blossomed naturally and so organically neither truly grasped it until something just happened to push their feelings from the back of their mind, and into the foreground. Whatever this catalyst was it shakes them up into realizing their lives could easily snuff out one day and the regret of not saying the deep-down feelings they have to one another, causes one or both into a confession and it spills from there into ‘daaw’ territory.

6: I myself see Sonic being the one to ask. Not so much out of a traditional romantic gesture; but it’s his nature to grab life by the horns and juice and jam onward. Once he sets his mind to it; he goes for it. Whether he actually plans a nice romantic moment or something more subtle is up in the air. Whatever and however it goes, Sonic is the first to ask.

7: Assuming they want kids (and I believe they do), I honestly see them being happy having however many they wish. In terms of planned children, they’d aim for one and go from there. Given they would only think to have children would be after the war, depending on how busy they are with any rebuilding efforts or in Sally’s case, running a Kingdom, would probably factor into their mindset of however many kids. I could see Sonic envisioning a big family, but happy to settle for one, to two or three once the ‘new baby shine’ wears off. Sally would want to be sure she could actually spend time and help raise the children so I see her being practical about the number of potential kids from the get-go.

8: I honestly envision the two just, vegging to some degree. They could lie on the couch together and cuddle all night and call it a win, or the bed if they wanted to fall to sleep afterward. Whatever the status of the world, and their part in it; they just enjoy being home together and doing something together, mostly to relax. Cuddles, reading books together, bathing, cooking, sex, exercising, playing with their kids if they have any. So long as they (and any family they may have) can spend it together; that’s all that matters.

9: Yes, even if they do have kids of their own, I can see them adopting, either before or after marriage even. Heck especially in story settings where Tails’ parents are not around; he’s instantly adopted as the first kid.

10: Both of them are actually very good at remembering Anniversaries, and both have equally cut it close due to forgetfulness or busy schedules but they never outright forgot and had nothing to show for it. Sonic likes to make Sally breakfast in bed, given she’s often the busiest of the two and could use some TLC. Sally in turn usually wants to handle lunch and for dinner, they pick a mutual haunt and eat out. They often do a small gift exchange, be it something homemade or an item that caught their eye that screamed ‘this belongs to my beloved’. If and when kids come into the picture, usually they’re drafted into helping with surprises by one or both parents.

11: Having lived in the Great Forest for most of their lives; the two have always had an affinity for nature. While some would love a ritzy stay at the swankiest hotel at Casino Night (they did that once and did enjoy themselves), in terms of vacation they truly enjoyed? Their world-tour camping Honeymoon; short and sweet they traveled around finding locals to enjoy Mobius’s natural beauty and spend a few days or a week in said locations. Just them the wilderness and, well all the stuff Honeymooners do ^_~.

12: Sonic found Sally’s picture album during a raid on Robotropolis early in his active FF career. He stumbled across a warehouse where Robotnik kept mementos taken from the Royal Family as ‘gloat trophies’ and so Sonic liberated what he could carry. For the first time since the coup, Sally had pictures of her Father again as well as memories from their childhood she thought lost forever. She never forgot this. In return, Sally on a whim had Nicole stealth hack the Robotropolis network for misc files and found Uncle Chuck’s entries from when he was Minister of Science. The gem of this was, among his work files, was his special chili-dog techniques and recipes saved on file. While the actual science files went to Freedom Fighter use, the personal entries were given to Sonic who could once again recreate the magic his Uncle used to treat him too. Suffice to say in both cases, kisses were had even if in my mind this all happened before they got together.

13: Pregnant Sally is both downright amusing, terrifying, and full of aw and d’aw. To Sonic, it’s a balancing act as he is trying so, very hard to do right by Sally. She needs rubs, he does it however long she needs. Cravings, he cooks them or rushes out to get it if she’s craving a particular take-out item. He hugs her when she has crying fits; tries to keep a cool head when she’s upset for no reason. Mainly, Sonic just tries, and yes he will put his foot in his mouth from time to time; but this is one of those events in his life where he focused on the nth degree. Sometimes to Sally’s annoyance and speaking of whom; it’s well a roller-coaster for her. Her body is changing and her hormones wreak havoc on some days. While never as vain as Sonic can be, Sally feels her self-esteem for her appearance dwindle at times, and she especially hates her mood swings. Most notably the ones where she snaps at Sonic, which often takes her back into the same kind of depression she felt when Sonic was assumed to have died and usually ends up crying and apologizing to him profusely. Thankfully Sonic’s presence and support help her weather everything and the end result to her makes the pitfalls ‘worth it’.

14: Sonic is the ‘fun stay at home Dad’ while Sally’s doing her Queenly duties. That said, Sonic isn’t a slacker at keeping their child(ren) in line. He’s permissible to degrees, but even he’s matured enough to know there’s a fine to tow between being ‘friends’ with your kid and ‘being a parent’. Sometimes he can get over his head, but usually, he can either remedy the issue or he thankfully has Sally to back him up. On Sally’s end, taking cues from her Julayla and Rosie’s book on childcare, she tends to miss lessons with free-form playtime. Letting her children grow and figure things out, while always being within reach to help, and impart advice willingly whether she’s asked too or not. While often tired, Sally adores playtime with her child(red), and however many they have, she never wants to miss out on anything if she can help it. This is a factor both she and Sonic share as they desperately want any child or children they have to know they’re loved and have the security of their parents and loved ones around at all times. While each has their own path in parenting, they both prefer to work together than at odds as neither like arguing in front of the kids (even if it does happen from time to time but they try to avoid it).

15: Both to a degree, each has their own hang-ups of concern whether the child is male, female or they have kids of both genders. Given some of their own romantic miseries during their teen years; they worry about any child of theirs going through anything of the same or really any heartache even if it may be inevitable. However they both don’t want to be overbearing; BUT, both insist on meeting the girlfriend/boyfriend post-haste once they know that’s on the table.

Also yes, they are the types who will discreetly threaten the significant other with bodily harm (even if it’s in pure jest) if they cause their child any grief.

16: They share this one, sometimes one, the other, or both the same night. Depends on who’s the most exhausted. XD

17: Sonic HATES being sick and waited on; so he tries very hard to play it off and handle himself. Sally will have none of that and threatens often to tie him to the bed if he resists too much. After a spell, Sonic begins to accept and even enjoy some of the pamperings. Sally accepts when she’s ill she needs to rest, but she still tries to get work done. Sonic has often caught her with Nicole’s hand-held or some kind of paperwork in bed to his displeasure. Sonic is instantly into caregiving when she’s sick and at times can be overbearing in pampering Sally. Something she has a love/hate thing about.

If they’re BOTH sick, they compromise and lie together in bed, finding cuddling the other to be it’s own soothing balm to whatever is afflicting them.

18: Sonic falls back to his go-to-thing; running. He goes on a run, however long to cool off and think in private as he ponders on the source of their friction. Sally tries to distract herself with some sort of brain-focusing tasks like a puzzle or a good book while mulling over the argument in her head to try and draw conclusions on why it went south and if she or Sonic were in the right or wrong. Eventually, Sonic returns from his run, and Sally puts away whatever she used to cool off and they both sit down and talk it over, eventually working things out and making up for any hurt feelings.

19: No matter how they slice it, given Sally is a Princess, there’s gonna be some sort of big deal ceremony. I do see both Sonic and Sally wanting just a small wedding for their friends and family; especially if they opt to marry before the war ends. Then they’ll save the BIG SHOWY ceremony for after the war. Mostly if they can get away with postponing it that long. XD

On the flip-side, if the story has Max still being a pill about Sonic being Sally’s squeeze; elope, no questions asked. ^_~

20: Assuming the future-in-law is worthy of their child; they will jump for joy and be happy for their kid. Sure they will have some ‘giving away our baby’ jitters, but ultimately their child’s happiness trumps all discomfort they may have. There will be some crying but it will be tears of joy, and if anything their child having a wedding and moving on in their own life would be a great joy in of itself. It would be another symbol that whatever they suffered in the war was worth it. If just so their child could have a safe and peaceful world to grow up and live within; to find their own life and love. No greater joy can a parent hold for their child, especially these two.

21: Once the two stop joy-spazzing over the news, you can expect them to be front and center Grandparents. The parents may have to pry the newborn away from them for the first couple of visits. Knowing how to take care of a newborn can be stressful they along with their in-law’s parents will help split babysitting duties and just enjoy being able to spoil the kid rotten and playfully hand them back to the parents when the going gets rough. Not that they won’t step up, but I feel every new Grandparent doesn’t have that moment of ‘now you see what I went through, ha!’. In any case, they are the type who will be as available and active in their grandchild(rens) life as much as they can be.

22: Age does not slow them down much; maybe in the physical (despite what Sonic says), but these two will be firecrackers even as their fur dulls and greys. Some aspects of old-age will hit them hard, not just in that both are usually very active people, but some genetic ticking time bombs or perhaps past physical trauma from the war years have caught up with them. Sonic will take getting ‘slow’ the most, as running has been his ultimate expression of freedom. Sally will take bouts of forgetfulness hard given how organized and reliant on her mind she is. In this they will lean on each other more, their devotion and love pouring through ever stronger. Sally forgets something, Sonic has it written down and encourages her to keep a pen and paper on hand to jot thoughts down. While Sonic can’t run forever, what running he still can do, Sally encourages. If he’s truly not able to run, then they’ll walk together hand in hand and ‘pretend’ they’re zipping around the city. There will be a lot of sitting together, hand in hand, and since their kid (or one of them) has assumed the throne; they have a lot of freedom to do whatever fancy comes their way. They simply relish the fact they lived long enough to enjoy this stage of life when living to be an adult seemed like such a far off dream.

23: I envision sometime over the years as a Memorium for its role in giving the survivors of Robotnik’s coup, and serving as base and home for the Freedom Fighters and a second home for the people of Mobotropolis; Knothole is rebuilt in its original state. Feeling both nostalgic as well as the importance of Knothole to their history and that of the planet after the war; Sonic and Sally opt to host reunions there. Something about walking through the old village (even if it’s a recreation) just feels nice and getting to show their kids and grandkids where they came from feels right. I can see them alternating on Angel Island as well given its importance in the grand scheme of events as well. Plus who doesn’t love the view from the island?

24: If anyone insists on a big party, they nix it. Only their family and closest of friends that are still around are invited. Being in their 70’s by this point, they prefer simple, and so there’s food and cake, and all the videos and photo albums out to reminisce, tell stories and enjoy life while they still can. Sonic being Sonic will at some point call attention and, with some effort, get on one knee and recite his proposal and marriage vows to Sally again, reaffirming his love which still burns ever brighter. Touched and while happy-crying, Sally will take his hand and affirm her vows as well as her own affirmation that her love for him still burns the same as ever. As they go to bed after the party, both Sally and Sonic cry joyfully as they hold one another. Feeling blessed at having lived the lives they have, and looking forward to however many they still have.:

25: There are a few ways I see this happening. If one of them expectedly passes before the other; the grief will be monumental. Having lived together as long as they have, experienced what they have, and enjoying a deep bong of love few can, losing their significant other will be a blow that they probably won’t recover from. I would expect within one or two years’ time, a combination of the grief and just not wanting to live on without their beloved will see whoever survived won’t make their sweetheart await them long in the here-after. Another scenario is if one of them catches a terminal illness, and they can prepare for it; Sonic and Sally will both make the best of what time they have. With the deadline closing in, whoever is not ill, I can see making arrangements so that once their beloved is about to pass, they will be given a legally approved injection to end their own life. While some of their family may not fully approve, for the most part, such a thing is understood and nobody objects.

One way or another, they will be together, in the next life as they were in this one

[The last one was admittedly a tad sad, but well as they say life ends eventually, and I felt like making the prompts feel like an evolution of their relationship like I did in the fanfics for the celebration week prompts.]

#Sonsa #Sonally #boundingforfreedom #Sonic the Hedgehog #Sally Acorn #Archie-Sonic #romance #headcanons #prompts #Sonsal Celebration Year 2 #life and times

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mothers-little-pistols · 4 years

Text

Incorrect Quote Dump (1/?)

Warning, this post is so fucking long.

Thrill, writing in his diary: February twenty-eighth, 2020. Today I watched a crewmate fall and eat shit.

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Widow: GO TO BED! Kit: NO! Widow: JUST GO TO BED! IT'S TWO AM AND YOU CAN'T BE AWAKE THIS LATE IN THE ZONES! Kit: WATCH ME!

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Ghoul: So you all fucked up pretty badly. Good luck finding new tires for this thing. Kit: *scoff* I think the ones we have are fine for at least another fourty miles. Ghoul: *pointing to the blown-out tires that have all but shredded off the rims* You fucking fubar'd the tires on this and you think it can go for another fourty miles!? Toxin: *cackles* Kit: You both shut up.

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Jet: Wait a minute. Jet: Share...skill... Jet: *inhales* AA-

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Poison: So what exactly do you and your little band of assholes do? Kit: *looking at the chaos that is the Pistols* Tss...ooh...hard question...auh...?

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*after they find the Zone Four motel* Kit: *enjoying a cold shower for the first time in a while* Poison: *opens the door and walks in* Kit: Who the fuck's there? Poison: It's me, I have to piss. Kit: Ok, you do that. Try anything and I'll shoot you though. Poison: Whatever. *silence* Kit: Flush that toilet and I'll shoot you. *silence* *toilet flushes* Kit: *is sprayed with boiling hot water* POISON-

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Thrill: I am your God now! Bring me your virgins! Ghoul: What virgins? We're all sluts here. Jet: Who's 'we'? Ghoul: *points at Poison* Poison: Hey!

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Kobra: So what are we doing out here exactly? Poison: Kit wanted us to find something called the... Poison: *takes off glove and looks at smudged writing on hand* Poison: ‘ Hellements of Armony’.

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Toxin: *scurrying through The Zones* Squeedly-dee, stay out of the desert!

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Widow: So, ok, I go over to Poison's room. Here I was expecting their PC to have burned down because of all the decomposing moth carcasses in their CPU fan. But no. I was not that lucky.

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Kit: *drunk and draping herself into Kobra's arms* Oh doctor! What's the diagnosis? Kobra: *sighing and playing along* You're horny for Poison... Kit: Oh my! Horny for Poison, you say? Well, do you have a cure? Kobra: *dropping her and walking away* Yeah, leaving me the fuck out of this.

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Poison: *obviously drunk* BATTERY CITY! CAN SUCK! MY! D- Kobra: *slaps his hand over their mouth* And that's enough tequila for you. Poison: *muffled* LET ME SPEAK!

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Widow: Thots on Val Velocity? Poison: So Val has thots now. Kit: Crawling all over him like weevils. Jet: I think they're the Ultra Vs, actually.

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Widow: Why don't you listen to Cherri Cola's Poetry Corner and maybe you'll calm down.

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Poison: *is fucking dead* Thrill: Thrill: Wake up, piss boy.

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Toxin: Are you fucking stupid? Kit: How long have you been friends with me? Toxin: Three years? Kit: Am I stupid, Tox? Toxin: Maybe a little bit. Kit: It's ok, you can call me an idiot. Toxin: Yeah, you're a fucking dumbass.

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Widow: *after settling an argument* Court dismissed, bring in the dancing lobsters.

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Poison: Hold on. Poison: *leaves the motel and stands outside* Poison: *SCREAMS* Kit: Kit: I'm fucking that.

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Poison: FOR THE LAST TIME! Poison: STOP CALLING ME 'PISS JACKET'! Ghoul: IT SMELLS LIKE PISS! Poison: IT'S COLOGNE! Jet: Are you sure though? Poison: Ghoul: Jet: Poison: Fuck yourself.

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Kobra: Hey, Poison, check this out. Poison: *fiddling with their raygun* Hang on, I'm busy. Kobra: Hey, look at me. Poison: Give me a second. Kobra: I'm more important, give me attention. Poison: I said give me a God damn second. Kobra: I'm getting very upset. Poison: I don't give a fuck how upset you are. I said give me a second. Poison: *puts their raygun down* Hello, what is it? Kobra: *points to his helmet upside down on top of his head* I can balance a helmet on my head.

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Poison: *standing in Kit's doorway* I'm sad, can I lay on your floor for a sec?

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Jet: *standing outside* Don't you come in this room, Korse, I will dust your ass.

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Thrill: Party Piss Jacket Peepee Pants Penishead Poison, will you please come here? Poison: *>:(*

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Widow: Can I ask you something? Kit: What's good? Widow: Why are you such a whore? Kit: Drive sidestreet and get dusted.

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Kit: *yelling into the other room* Jet! Jet Star! Jet: *doesn't respond* Kit: Destroya damnit. Thrill: JETTY! Jet: *looks up* What? Kit: You wanna get food? Jet: Huh? Kit: Do you wanna obtain edible substances? Jet: What? Thrill: YOU WANT FOOD!? Jet: Oh, yeah, I do! Kit: Then come outside, there's an angel cake in the next Zone over! Jet: Make me. Thrill: SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET FOOD! Jet: Alright.

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Thrill: *flipping Kit off with both hands* Kit: Thanks, Thrill! *:D* Thrill: Fuck you! *:D*

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Ghoul: They broke it, they blew up the school, they own a trenchcoat, they have a gun- Poison: This started about Diamond accidentally stepping on my headphones.

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Kobra: I overheard Poison yelling at Toxin about banana bread and something about 'I've made a shitload of banana bread, don't you dare put that much sugar in it, it'll be grainy as shit-' Thrill: I think we should regulate humans...with guns...

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Toxin: Skibidefuck!

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Kobra: *takes off his helmet* Toxin: He looks like a baby. He looks like a literal infant. I wanna caress his cheek and put him in a crib and sing him lullabies. FF and MLP: Toxin, what the f u c k?

[][][][][]

Kobra: No one here is gonna make fun of you. Except he might. Ghoul: Yeah, I might.

[][][][][]

Pony: *tries to create a sense of calm by lighting incense only to discover that the sticks were sparklers* Widow: That's painfully on-brand, actually.

[][][][][]

The Girl: *whispering into walkie talkie* Poison, the Pistols are drinking beer, I need you to come pick me up-

[][][][][]

Ghoul: Hey Poison, do you think I can get this egg into that jar without it cracking? Poison: No. Ghoul: *throws it at Kobra* Guess you were right.

[][][][][]

Toxin: Dude, I thought you could do a kickflip. Ghoul: I can! I can! I did one this morning!

[][][][][]

Val: Hey Vaya, do you have any gum? Vaya: *spits their gum out at him* Val: *blinks* Ok then- Vamos, do you have any gum? Vamos: *spits their gum out at him*

[][][][][]

Kit: *walking into Ghoul's room* Hey Toxin, Ghoul- Oh, you guys are doing dress rehearsal. Shiny. Auh, I'm gonna go to Tommy Chow Mein's shop real quick, you guys need anything? Hair dye, Power Pup?

[][][][][]

Widow: *holding up a jack-o-lantern* I made a goblin, what'd you guys make? Toxin: *holding her pumpkin turned into a bong* I made a kick-ass bong. Widow: ...creative! Diamond: *cutting a hole in theirs* I'm gonna fuck this pumpkin.

[][][][][]

Ghoul: *looking through a telescope* I love this Zone! Widow and Kit: *play wrestling in the dirt* Poison: Lemme see- *looks through telescope in the other direction* Kobra and Toxin: *fucking on the hood of the M240* Poison: Gorgeous.

[][][][][]

Diamond: *has been staring at the same ray gun for the past thirty minutes* Tommy Chow Mein: Buy something or fuck off.

[][][][][]

Val: Hey guys. Good alternative recycling; when you're done with a glass bottle, eat it. Fucking eat the bottle.

[][][][][]

Kobra: *reading sign outside the shower* No shoes, no shirt, no pants, no socks, no underwear. Kobra: Ok, I think I'm good. *gets in*

[][][][][]

Widow: Look at the buns on that guy. Jet: *laying on the ground covered in burger buns* Korse: This is the comedy police, the joke's too funny! Widow: *holding her ray gun* I'M NOT GOING BACK TO THE ICEBOX-

[][][][][]

Jet: *while he's in tears* It's a mental break down... Jet: *plays kazoo to the tune of Final Countdown*

[][][][][]

Dr. Death Defying: What'cha doing on the roof, Tommy? Tommy Chow Mein: *on the roof of his shop* I lost a frisbee. Dr. Death Defying: Are you smoking battery acid up there? Tommy Chow Mein: ...yeah.

[][][][][]

Pony: Keep drinking, Val, don't be boring! God! Pony: *to Diamond* I want him to fucking pass out so someone finally notices me.

[][][][][]

Poison: *wearing the Mousekat head while they’re standing in the empty hotel pool* Thrill: What the fuck? There's a furry in the pool. Poison: *raises their ray gun* Thrill: AA-

[][][][][]

Ghoul: *sliding into the trans-AM* What's up, pussy? Poison: How do you know what I ate yesterday? Ghoul: Poison: Ghoul: Yeah, you right. Poison: *starts the car* Mhm.

[][][][][]

Poison: *driving* Diamond: *in the backseat* POISON! Poison: Yep-? Yeah-?? Diamond: *pointing out the back window* LOOK! *there's a car full of Draculoids on their tail* Poison: OH! OH FUCK! floors it NO, NO, NO, NO! NO-

[][][][][]

Val: *lays on the floor* Ooh, I'm exhausted. Thrill: Yeah, you're really sweaty. Val: You should've seen the other guy- Girl- Your mom- What? Thrill: What? Val: What?

[][][][][]

Dr. Death Defying: *coming in at three AM over the radio* Stop it. Get some help.

[][][][][]

Jet: I'm gonna tell you what I don't do. I don't know shit, I don't get stuff, and I don't understand things.

[][][][][]

Thrill: So you'll do it? Kit: Yeah, man, I'll dust him. Thrill: For how much? Kit: How about thirty? Thrill: Thirty thousand carbons? Kit: *spits out drink*

[][][][][]

Widow: Can you sing the song? Dr. Death Defying: *singing* Shut the fuck and go to sleep- Widow: Thanks *:>*

[][][][][]

Toxin: *wielding a water gun* Put the carbons in the bag, right now- Tommy Chow Mein: That's a water gun. Toxin: *throws it at him* Tommy Chow Mein: Ow! Fine, asshole, just take it-

[][][][][]

Val: *walking out of the V's hideout* Last one out is a stupid idiot! The V's: *have been standing outside for the past hour*

[][][][][]

*before they got with the Pistols* Tommy Chow Mein: *over the loudspeaker* Would the owner of the lime green Honda please come to the front desk. Diamond: *walking over* Are my lights on? Tommy Chow Mein: No, I just wanted to see what you looked like. Your car's fucking ugly.

[][][][][]

Poison: You ready for the best night ever? Widow: You mean sleepy time tea and a good night's sleep? Poison: ...we're going to a Mad Gear concert. Widow: ...I already made the tea.

[][][][][]

Dr. Death Defying: *over the loudspeaker* Attention shoppers, our store closes in ten fucking minutes. Get your shit and let's fucking go. Tommy Chow Mein: *distantly* Hey, you don't fucking work here-

[][][][][]

Diamond: Pony is so annoying. Pony: *outside the window of their room* I heard you were talking shit about me- Diamond: WE ARE ON THE THIRD FLOOR-

[][][][][]

Toxin: 'Tommy Chow Mein' is short for 'Thomas Chowder Mainstreet'. Tommy Chow Mein: Get the fuck out.

[][][][][]

Diamond: *a sand pup* What up? I'm Diamond, I'm nineteen, and I never fuckin' learned how to read.

[][][][][]

Ghoul: *looms over Diamond* Diamond: *looks up from writing in a notebook* Ghoul: Diamond: Ghoul: Diamond: Diamond: I'm writing porn, what the fuck do you want? Ghoul: *loses it and fucks off*

[][][][][]

*at dinner* Jet: Short-ass. Poison: Cuck. Jet: Fuck you. Poison: No, fuck you. Jet: Eat shit and live. Poison: You look like you bite deodorant sticks. Jet: *holds up bowl* I will cut your hair to look like this. Poison: GHOUL, HE THREATENED ME-

[][][][][]

Val: *wild cackling* I GOT ANOTHER HEADSHOT! *cackling continues*

[][][][][]

Toxin: Oh Destroya. You don't think- Ghoul: By the way it's looking, Tox, I'd say Val's a dirty... Toxin: Oh Destroya- Ghoul: Collectivizing... Toxin: No- Ghoul: Gemini. Toxin: GEMINI! GEMINI! Ghoul: Yeah, go get him, Toxin! Toxin: REEEE- *runs in Val's direction* *screaming*

[][][][][]

Toxin: *holding her pet possum* Yeah, and spray him down with that shit in the bottle there. Kobra: *reading the label* For fleas and ticks, huh? Ghoul: *starts laughing in the distance* I'm sorry, for a sec I thought you said 'fleas and piss'! *laughter continues* Thrill: We could get some of that for Poison then! *laughs* Toxin: *quietly* Party 'Piss Jacket' Poison.

[][][][][]

Diamond: *walking down to the kitchen* Fuck it, I'm hungry enough that I'll eat the stale cereal. Jet: It's five AM, also that cereal is beyond fucking stale. Diamond: *disappearing into the kitchen* I'll probably hate myself afterwards but, eh, am hungy.

[][][][][]

Widow: Kit, I think your dress rehearsal partner is gonna slap me. Kit: ...I'm sorry? I can't really stop 'em. Poison: *raises hand* Widow: AA-

[][][][][]

Kobra: It's almost six in the morning. What the fuck? Jet: Hi, almost six in the morning. I'm dead. Kobra: *-_-* Kobra: *0_0*

[][][][][]

*in the Nest* Val: *sits down with a can of Power Pup* Toxin: You happy? Val: Mhm. Toxin: Good. Your happiness distracts from the fact that I poisoned that Power Pup. Val: Good. I don't like my foods unpoisoned.

[][][][][]

Vaya: *eating a piece of bread* This bread is, like, on the precipice of being stale. Vamos: That sucks. Vaya: Yeah. Vamos: I wouldn't be too happy. Vaya: Yeah, it's the worst snack I've had the misfortune of eating. Vamos: Then stop? Vaya: No, I hate myself and therefore I'm gonna finish it. Also Val would kick my ass if I wasted food. Val: *from the next room* I would! Vaya: See? Vamos: Fine, finish your fuckin' bread.

[][][][][]

Thrill: You- You've been- Been- You've been- You've been hit with a distraction spell. Thrill: *punches Val in the thigh* Val: OW, YOU FUCKER- Thrill: *gets up and runs*

[][][][][]

Val: *opens pack of fruit snacks with teeth* Poison: *intense stare* Val: ...what? Poison: *points at fruit snacks* Val: No. Mine. Poison: I will fucking dismember you, give them to me.

[][][][][]

Ghoul: I don't see how you can sleep with that fucking blanket. I tried to once and it was so fucking hot. It also weighs more than me, probably. Poison: *curled up in a blanket* It's not my fault you're cold-blooded. Ghoul: *hisses* Jet: What'd you say about the cold-blooded? Poison: I was talking about Ghoul. Jet: Ah. Ghoul: Yeah, Jetty, you're friends with a reptilian. Kobra: *quietly* You're not Leafy. *the other three lose it*

[][][][][]

Poison: *slaps Kit's ass* Night! Poison: *goes to their room*

[][][][][]

Kobra: *walking up to his room* Widow: Why is it that whenever he walks on stairs, it sounds like the stairs are trying to eat him? Kobra: *turns around and squints*

[][][][][]

Diamond: Eugh, this off-brand ramen tastes like ass. Widow: Yeah, it really does. Diamond: If it's not Better Living brand, it's not ramen. Widow: That's what I told Thrill. Of course, I was ignored. Kit: Thrill has small pea brain.

[][][][][]

Val: Fight me. Ghoul: No. Val: Fight me. Ghoul: Diamond already tried to fight me in the kitchen, I don't wanna fight anybody else. Val: Beat my ass. Ghoul: I cannot. Val: Why? Ghoul: Ghoul: I'm small.

[][][][][]

Toxin: Hey, I said Kobra was cute, I didn't say he was smart. Kit: That...applies to me... Kit: Why does that apply to me??

[][][][][]

Toxin: *licks Kobra's cheek* Diamond: Don't lick that, you don't know where it's been! Kobra: *>:(*

[][][][][]

Poison: I'm too sober to be having this conversation! Toxin: No, we're having this conversation! What the fuck do you mean!?

[][][][][]

Val: I suck? I suck?? You died! You died! You just died and you’re saying I suck???

#blazing fire ;; party poison #ghostly lad ;; fun ghoul #sweet venom ;; kobra kid #neon nasa ;; jet star #fabulous four #little clementine ;; the girl #dramatically fabulous ;; show pony #shoplifter shooter ;; tommy chow mein #sup doc ;; dr. death defying #foxy sharpshooter ;; gun kit #spidery darlin' ;; widow bite #battery acid ;; toxin dealer #zapped carbon ;; electric diamond #heartthrob flatline ;; thrill killer #mother's little pistols #fucking rat ;; val velocity #hashtag twinning ;; vaya and vamos #kitpoison (gun kit/party poison)#kobratoxin (kobra kid/toxin dealer)#ghoultoxin (fun ghoul/toxin dealer)#tlotfk au #incorrect tlotfk au #incorrect danger days quotes #incorrect killjoy quotes #incorrect tlotfk quotes #incorrect killjoys #incorrect danger days #incorrect tlotfk #radio frequency #// there are probably more tags that i should add to this but i'm tired

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unfolded73 · 4 years

Text

Husbands: Two Years In (2/5) - schitt’s creek ff

This fic is complete, posting every other weekday. While I'm including it as part of the "Labels" series, the preceding fics are not required reading. Previous fics in this series: Boyfriends; “I Love You”, Partners, Fiancés

Warning: This fic deals with depression as one of its major topics.

Rated Explicit, this chapter 4964 words. (ao3)

Thanks to @high-seas-swan for cheerleading and B13_MaybeThisTime for many valuable comments (and also cheerleading).

Chapter 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2: Spring

Stevie squinted at the piece of paper Patrick handed her. “This is a lot of instructions just to water some plants.”

“If you over-water some of them, it could kill them. This tells you how to know if they need water and how much water to give them,” he explained.

She sighed, putting the paper aside. “Okay. Do you care if I hang out here and watch your TV?”

“I expected you would.”

“And eat your food?”

Patrick leveled a stare at her. “Yes, please enjoy the boxes of pasta and cans of beans in our pantry.” A distant memory occurred to him. “And I’ve marked the booze so I’ll know if you touch it.”

Stevie stuck her tongue out at him. “Anything else you need me to do?”

“Bethany has your number in case she needs help at the store, but I think she’ll be fine. It’s only for a few days.”

“The Brewers are certainly getting to see a lot of you. They were just here for Christmas three months ago.” Stevie said, collapsing backward over the arm of the sofa. “Now this Easter weekend trip.”

“Yeah.” Patrick shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I still have to make up for a lot of lost time with them. I wasn’t… I wasn’t a good son for a while.”

Stevie eyed him, her legs swinging. “I’m sure your parents don’t see it as a debt that you have to repay. And you had a lot to figure out about yourself back then. It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” Patrick said automatically, not believing it. He walked over and sat next to where her head was resting, taking care not to sit on her hair. “It’s just… I denied them the chance to get to know David much before we were married. So I’m trying to give them the opportunity to spend time with him now. It’s important to me that they see him the way I do. That they understand why I married him.”

“What sign have your parents ever given you that they don’t understand why you married him?” Stevie said, tilting her head back until she could meet his eyes.

“None, really.” Patrick sighed. “I guess I still feel like I need to… reassure them that I’m good. That I’m happy.”

“You want to perform your queer relationship in front of them,” Stevie concluded.

“I mean, kind of? Is that stupid?”

“Only in the sense that I don’t think you need to prove anything to them. But if it makes you feel better, there’s probably no harm in it.” She was still looking at him, her dark eyes hard to read. “Are you still feeling down? Sad?”

Patrick squirmed, regretting that he’d given Stevie that view into his psyche. “No. I don’t… not really. I don’t think so.”

Stevie swung up into a sitting position, her feet dropping to the floor. “You don’t think so?”

“I’m feeling better. But I also feel like I’m detached from… I don’t know how to word it. Like I locked my feelings in a box that I’ve lost the key to. I’m fine, but also I’m… numb is the wrong word, but it’s also not entirely the wrong word.” He frowned in frustration, unsure if any of the things he was telling Stevie were true. He was feeling better. He’d told himself there was no reason to feel sad enough times, and maybe his brain had finally gotten the message.

She patted him on the knee. “Have you talked to David about it?”

The way he looked quickly at her and then looked away answered that question.

“You should talk to David.”

“I don’t need to burden David with this. Like I said, I’m feeling better.” He stood up, anxious to escape this conversation.

Stevie didn’t say anything to that, and Patrick’s shoulders dropped in relief that she wasn’t going to push it. At the same time, some part of him recognized that maybe he needed her to push it. He didn’t want it, but he needed it.

“Okay, well, have a good trip,” Stevie said.

~*~

Patrick shook David by the shoulder. “It’s time to get up, David.”

David whined. “‘S too early.”

“We need to get on the road to my parents’.” Patrick got out of bed. “I’ll take the first shower but then you have to get up.”

David burrowed back down into the covers in response.

The entire morning, David was grouchy and resentful for having been woken ‘before the sun was even up, Patrick!’ and he brought his resentment with him into the car, grousing about the fact that the snack bag (which Patrick had taken care to pack with all of David’s favorite road trip foods) was taking up valuable legroom. He also complained that the car was too cold, then too hot, then too humid. When David started in on how bad Patrick’s car speakers were, Patrick hit his limit.

“Should I have left you at home, David?” he shouted, gripping the steering wheel. “Gone to visit my parents alone?”

David reared back against the passenger door. “No.”

“Then can you give it a rest?”

“Sorry,” David muttered, not really sounding sorry. “It messes up my equilibrium when I have to get up early, you know that.”

“We had to get up that early if we were going to be at my parents’ house by four in the afternoon, David. I explained that.”

David’s mouth twisted. “Okay,” he said after a couple of seconds of silence.

Patrick stole a couple of glances at his husband. He could tell when David’s ‘okay’ really meant, you’re wrong but I refuse to fight with you about it. “What?” Patrick finally burst out with.

“It’s just, it’s not like your parents needed us there by four. They specifically said we could arrive any time. This is you doing that thing where you get locked into a part of your plan for no reason, and then everything else that follows has to fit into that plan.”

“Oh, are we having this argument again? The one about me being inflexible?” Patrick grumbled.

“I guess we are.”

Patrick drove in silence for a few minutes, aware of David studying his fingernails in his periphery. Finally, David slapped his hands down on his thighs. “It’s past time for me to take over driving, isn’t it?”

“Are you sure you aren’t too tired?”

“Mmm, if I doze off at the wheel, you have my permission to yell at me some more,” David said.

“David—”

“I’m joking. I’m fine to drive, and I’m sure you need a break.”

Patrick made a point of relaxing his shoulders, letting them drop. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll pull off at the next exit.”

It was a long time after they switched, after an interminable length of tense silence in the car, that Patrick finally tried to offer a small peace offering. “My mom once told me that all the arguments she and my dad have ever had boil down to the one way they are incompatible. And that fortunately they eventually remember all the many ways they are compatible.”

“How are they incompatible?” David asked.

“I don’t actually remember. Maybe she didn’t tell me. They never fought in front of me that I can remember. I guess they’d bottle it up until they were alone.”

David snorted. “That explains some things about you.”

Patrick inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. “Are we still fighting?”

“A little bit,” David said.

“We’re fighting ‘a little bit’?” Patrick asked, almost laughing even though he could still feel lingering resentment in his bloodstream.

“Yeah. A tiny bit.”

“I’m sorry for yelling.”

“I’m sorry for being a brat,” David said.

“I’m sorry that I insisted on such an early start.”

David reached over and patted his knee. “You don’t have to apologize for that. I need to remember that it makes you less anxious to get an early start.”

“Maybe the next time we have this fight about my inflexibility, you’ll remember that,” Patrick said, sneaking a smile at David.

“Mmm, but you’re inflexible about so many things, honey.”

Patrick’s expression morphed into a glare.

“And I’m bratty about so many things,” David conceded, reaching over again and this time taking Patrick’s hand. And then they weren’t even fighting a little bit. Patrick turned on some music and they sang along most of the rest of the way to the Brewers’ house.

As soon as Patrick had turned off the car in his parent’s driveway, his mother appeared from the front door like she’d been watching for them from the window. He glanced at David with a smile. “She’s missed her favorite son-in-law,” Patrick said, unbuckling his seat belt.

David slapped him gently on the arm. “I’m just window dressing and you know it.”

“Hardly,” Patrick said, getting out of the car to be immediately enveloped in a hug by his mother, then his father. He moved to unload the trunk while David hugged his parents too. An image struck him suddenly, himself in those early days of realizing that he had feelings for David, witnessing this. If he could have known that this was in his future, he could have dispensed with so much of the anxiety that defined the time before he was out to his family. David Rose greeting his parents and chatting easily with them as they moved to help unload the car, a part of his family. A ring on his finger that matched the one on Patrick’s. Sometimes it still felt like a miracle.

Patrick was moving toward the stairs to carry their bags upstairs when his father put a hand on his arm to stop him. “One little snag. We were supposed to have the new bed for the guest room delivered this week, but I got the notice that it had been delayed after your cousin Cheryl already hauled away the old one.”

“So there’s nowhere for us to sleep?” Patrick asked with raised eyebrows.

Clint gestured toward the sofa in the family room. “We’ll make up the sofa bed for you.”

Patrick met David’s eyes. “We can get a hotel room,” he said.

“No, don’t be silly, dear. The sofa bed is plenty comfortable,” Marcy protested. She’d always been the kind of person who considered family staying in a hotel to be a personal failing. The bed mix-up was probably torturing her.

David put a hand on her shoulder, clearly noticing her distress. “The sofa bed will be fine. It’s only three nights,” he said over her head to Patrick.

“You can still put your bags upstairs. Use that room as a changing room,” his dad said.

“Okay,” Patrick said with a shrug.

When he got back downstairs, Marcy and David already had their heads bent over her Easter party to-do list at the kitchen table, David full of suggestions for how to organize the family gathering. Patrick left them to it with an affectionate squeeze on the back of David’s neck, then went over and flopped down on the sofa they were apparently going to be sleeping on later, where he could still keep an eye on the kitchen while resting his aching body after the long hours on the road.

By now, Patrick had come to expect the way visiting his childhood home stirred up a lot of complicated feelings in him. It was like he had come equipped with an antenna that could reach back in time and pick up the frequency of the unhappiness he carried around back then. Or like that unhappiness had infused everything in the house — the walls, the carpets, the drapes — like the cigarette smoke of a long-departed smoker. He liked to think that watching his husband and his parents grow closer was a balm to those old aches, but he wasn’t sure if it was true.

“Did you end up making the butter tarts I sent you the recipe for?” Marcy asked David.

Patrick had let his eyes drift closed, but he imagined he could hear David’s cringing expression. “I did make them, but it wasn’t an unqualified success,” David said.

“They were good,” Patrick called, his eyes still closed. “You’re too much of a perfectionist.”

“Yes, hi. Hello, I’m David Rose, your husband,” David replied. “You should probably take my perfectionism as read at this point, honey.”

“I’m sure they were fine. And the next time you make them, they’ll be even better,” Marcy said.

“I have mastered chicken parmesan, though,” David said, and Patrick could hear the pride in his voice. David had made a few small attempts at cooking in Patrick’s apartment, but now that they had the house, his interest in cooking had really blossomed.

“Well, I wouldn’t say no if you want to cook a meal one of the evenings that you boys are here,” Marcy said in a sweet, teasing voice.

“I can do that if you aren’t afraid to let me loose in your kitchen,” David responded, sounding pleased. Patrick grinned, loving how well his mother and husband got along. Another miracle that he couldn’t have imagined a few years ago.

After an evening of food and conversation and laughter with David and his parents, Patrick eventually found himself making the sofa bed with his mother while David was in the bathroom, probably only on step three of his nine-step skincare regimen by the time they had the sheets on and blankets carefully tucked in at the bottom.

“I’m sorry again about the bed,” his mother said. “I told Clint—”

“Mom, it’s fine,” he said, not really feeling like it was fine, exactly. It was weird, the idea of getting into bed with David in such a public part of the house, where his parents would see them if they came downstairs during the night. And that made him wonder if he’d think it was weird if he were straight and married to a woman, and that made him wonder how much internalized homophobia he was still carrying around.

“Well, thank you for not going to a hotel. I like having you and David here, under our roof.”

A warmth suffused his chest at that. “Thanks, Mom.”

She smirked at him. “But I guess you’ll have to keep things PG, sleeping out here.”

“Mom!” He felt a blush steal over his face. “We weren’t going to be… doing anything not PG in your house.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Hasn’t stopped you before.”

“Oh my god—”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. The walls are kind of thin…”

Patrick buried his face in his hands, remembering a couple of times when they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off of each other here, particularly the first time they visited after they’d gotten married. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” his mother said. “I was glad you were happy.”

“Uh huh.” He raised his head and bravely met her eyes. “Well, we certainly won’t be getting… happy… out here. Also, please don’t tell David that you heard us.”

She laughed. “Okay, I won’t.”

When David joined him under the covers later, Patrick had managed to stop blushing and was thinking again about the fight they’d had that morning, even though it was far in the rear view mirror, both literally and metaphorically. Patrick considered bringing it up again — they hadn’t really resolved anything, and he felt the urge to apologize again. But maybe there was nothing to resolve. It was an incontrovertible fact that he and David were very different in a lot of ways, and there were contrasting aspects of their personalities that were going to scrape against each other sometimes. So instead of trying to relitigate their fight, Patrick exhaled a deep sigh and pulled David close, hugging him.

“I love you,” Patrick said.

“Love you too,” David whispered, hot breath against his neck.

“And I love seeing you here. In this house with my parents. It means so much to me, getting to be here with you.”

“I know.” David rubbed his back with soothing pressure. “I know.”

~*~

Patrick awoke to soft murmur of voices nearby, and to the scent of David’s shampoo. He slowly became aware of his surroundings, of the way David was curled toward him, his head tucked up under Patrick’s chin and an arm slung over his waist on top of the blankets. David had always been a cuddler, at least for as long as Patrick had been sharing a bed with him, and this morning was no different from a hundred other mornings when Patrick had awoken to David clinging to him like a barnacle, making him overheated and sweaty.

Extracting himself, Patrick sat up and rubbed his face. His parents were in the kitchen, only the stove light on in an attempt, he supposed, to keep from waking them. He looked back at his husband, still sound asleep. Well, it worked for one of them, at least.

He shuffled into the kitchen. “Hey.”

“Morning, son,” his dad whispered. “The water in the kettle is still hot.”

“Thanks,” Patrick said, getting a mug down from the cupboard. “You don’t have to whisper. David’s a heavy sleeper.”

“I hope the sofa wasn’t too uncomfortable,” Clint said.

Stretching out his spine, Patrick assessed whether he was feeling any negative after-effects from sleeping on a pull-out sofa. “No, it was fine.”

He looked over at his mother to see her beaming at him.

“What?” Patrick asked as he put a tea bag into his mug.

“Nothing, you just looked very cute snuggled up with your husband.”

Patrick felt his cheeks heat up. “Okay.” This was exactly what had made him anxious, the idea of his parents seeing him and David in an intimate, albeit innocent, moment. He tried to forget that they’d apparently overheard some less innocent moments in the past and focused on making his tea. Still, he couldn’t help the smile that crept over his face at the fact that his mother could look at him in bed with David and call it ‘cute.’ Another miracle to add to the pile since the day he drove past the Schitt’s Creek town sign for the first time.

~*~

Patrick was pulling another tray of mini biscuits out of the oven when his cousin Sara approached him in the midst of the Easter party on Sunday afternoon. She was his father’s older brother’s eldest child, so despite being a first cousin, she was almost fifteen years older than him. They’d been friendly since Patrick had become an adult, but they’d never been particularly close.

“Hey, do you have a minute to talk?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at the closest gaggle of relatives, clustered around the television in the next room. Miraculously, they had the kitchen to themselves for the moment.

“If you can help me put ham on these, sure,” he said. “I’m told the first batch disappeared in record time.”

She chuckled. “I can do that.”

“Is Justin here?” he asked, trying to remember if he’d seen the teenager around the house. “I didn’t see him.”

Sara winced. “He might have holed up in a quiet part of the house so that he didn’t have to be social.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Justin is… he came out to us this year.” Patrick looked up at her, but she was focused intently on the task of cutting the biscuits in half and piling them with sliced ham.

Patrick thought about the kid he’d known a few years ago, before he moved to Schitt’s Creek, quiet and serious even as a young boy. “Came out as… what? How does he identify?”

“Oh. Gay. He’s gay.”

“Okay.” Patrick wasn’t sure what to say. The reason she was telling him was obvious, but he wasn’t sure if he was expected to impart some mystical gay secrets on her. Bless her family with a gay benediction. “Is he only out to you and Mark, or is he out at school?”

“He’s out at school. I think it’s been… I mean, not as rough as it was for my generation by a long shot, but I don’t think it’s been easy. He has good friends who support him, though.”

“That’s good.” Now it was Patrick’s turn to avert his eyes. “I don’t really have any advice about that — I wasn’t even out to myself in high school, much less to anyone else — but David might. Although, admittedly, his high school experience was…” He thought about models in bras and thongs and of salad bowls full of pills. “…unusual.”

“Anyway, I was thinking, maybe it would be good if he had an adult to go to for advice who isn’t me or his dad.”

Patrick tried to put himself in Justin’s shoes. If he’d been out in high school, would he have been willing to go to an older cousin who was also gay for advice? One that he wasn’t all that close to? He doubted it.

“I haven’t really talked much to Justin in the last few years, though. I don’t know if he would trust me as a confidante.” Patrick said.

“Maybe not, but can we try?” Sara had finished assembling the ham biscuits, and she went over to the sink to wash her hands. “I’m doing my best with the whole talking-about-sex thing, but no one wants to hear that stuff from their mother. And I don’t want him relying on his friends for that. Or learning about it from porn.”

Patrick’s eyes widened. He’d thought that one of the advantages of not having any kids of his own was going to be that he’d never have to have an awkward sex talk with a teenager. “I don’t think he’s gonna want to hear it from me either. As far as porn goes, he’s probably going to look at it regardless, or already is, so you should talk to him about that, that it’s not realistic—”

“I know. I have. But still—”

“I can send you some book recommendations, though. Or links to actual reliable stuff on the internet. Things that you can pass on to him that he can read on his own.”

She was visibly disappointed by that answer. “Okay. Thanks.”

He sighed. “And I can talk to him today,” he conceded. “And give him my number if he wants to text.”

Her shoulders dropped in relief, and she hugged him. “Thank you. I want him to have someone to talk to who… maybe knows what he’s going through. Or what he might face.”

Patrick picked up the serving platter of biscuits, still uncomfortable with the responsibility he was being shouldered with, but resigned to it. “I mean, I married the first guy I dated, so my experience is not… broad? But I’ll do my best.”

Sara bulldozed ahead, unphased by that admission. “And you can keep his confidence unless you think his safety is at risk. I don’t expect you to report back to me on… whatever he talks to you about.”

The weight of responsibility got measurably heavier. “Okay.”

He took the platter back out to the dining room, where a literal smorgasbord of foods were arrayed for people to help themselves to. David was standing next to the potato salad, putting some only his already full plate. “Hey,” Patrick said.

David smiled at him. “There you are. I have now learned a very interesting and disgusting story about you from Dennis involving a two liter bottle of Coke and a drive to Winnipeg.”

Patrick groaned. “Dennis needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.” He picked up a paper plate, planning to help himself to some food of his own. “I, meanwhile, was just asked to counsel a…” He glanced around and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Gay teenager.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Patrick indicated the back door with his chin, and he followed David out onto the deck once his plate was loaded up. They walked over to stand at the corner of the house away from the crowd in the backyard. “My cousin Sara’s seventeen-year-old son came out as gay to his family, and Sara wants me to be his… queer role model, I guess. Or maybe talk to him about sex? I’m not entirely clear.”

“That’s adorable,” David said. “And horrifying.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, good luck with that,” David said, making his way over to one of the tables they’d set up in the yard that morning.

“That’s all I get from you?” Patrick whined, following him. “‘Good luck with that’?”

David sat down at the table between Marcy and another of Patrick’s cousins, giving his husband a simpering smile. “I’m sure you’ll do great, honey.”

Patrick rolled his eyes, finding a seat on the other side of the table. “Thanks,” he muttered.

After lunch, Patrick went looking for Justin, finally tracking him down in his parent’s office, curled up in the desk chair and reading on his phone. Patrick waved, and Justin pulled some earbuds out of his ears.

“Hey,” Justin said, looking wary.

“Hey.” Patrick rocked on his heels, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Please tell me your mom mentioned to you that she was gonna talk to me.”

Justin sighed heavily. “No offense, but I was hoping she wouldn’t. Not that I care if you know I’m gay, just…”

“You don’t need a cousin that you haven’t talked to in a while trying to it-gets-better you at a family party?”

Justin laughed. “Yeah.”

“I get it. I probably wouldn’t want that either, if I were you.” Patrick shrugged. “We don’t have to talk right now. Or ever, if you don’t need to. But… maybe if something comes up in the future that you have questions about, you can text me? It might be… comforting, actually, that we aren’t close. That you don’t have to look at me across the dinner table like you do your parents. Easier to ask me embarrassing or personal questions that way. With that distance.”

Patrick could see the moment the idea really fully registered in Justin’s mind, his eyes widening a little bit. Then his mask of teenage apathy slipped back into place. “Okay. Give me your phone,” he said, holding out his hand.

Pulling his phone from his pocket and unlocking it, Patrick handed it over, then watched as Justin entered his number and then texted himself from Patrick’s phone.

“I mean,” he said, handing the phone back, “you’ll still tell my mom whatever I say.”

It was a test, but fortunately Sara had already given Patrick the answer key. “Only if you’re unsafe. Other than that, I won’t tell her what you talk to me about.”

Justin shrugged like he didn’t care, but Patrick suspected that maybe he did care a little bit. Patrick put his hands back in his pockets. “Is there anything you want to… Right now, is there—”

“Nope,” Justin said, his cheeks reddening. “But thanks for your number.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Again, Patrick fretted that there were some wise words, some summation of the gay experience he should be able to speak aloud. His mind was blank. “So… I’ll just…” He pointed back toward the door with his thumb. “See you around?”

“Uh huh,” Justin said, looking back at his phone.

“Okay. Well, okay,” Patrick said, leaving him to it.

Later, David asked him how it went, and in answer, Patrick showed him his cousin’s contact in his phone, which Justin had added with a little rainbow emoji next to the name. “Cuuute,” David said in that slightly patronizing way he had.

Patrick shrugged. “I doubt he’ll ever text me, but he’s got the option.”

~*~

He was still thinking about Justin a few days later when they were back home, still wondering if he would be able to live up to whatever Sara expected him to do. So when he arrived a few minutes early for a council meeting to find only Ronnie at her desk in town hall, he told her the story. If she thought he wasn’t up to the job of advising a queer kid, she wouldn’t pull her punches.

“I’m not sure if I should do anything now, or if him having my number is enough.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Does it feel like enough?”

“I don’t know, Ronnie!” he said, throwing up his hands. “No, it doesn’t, but I also don’t really see myself texting him and asking if he’s being safe and using condoms, or… or whatever my cousin Sara is envisioning.”

“Well yeah, not at this point, not unless you want to come off as a creep.”

“Exactly.”

“But there’s more to this kid’s life than his sexual orientation, just like there’s more to your life than yours. And you said you didn’t know him that well. So why not try to get to know him better. Let him get to know you better. That way if he ever does need your help — which, I agree, he could do better than you — then he won’t be afraid to ask for it.”

Patrick ignored the dig, because there was actually some good advice in there. “That’s smart.”

“Well, you don’t have to sound surprised, Patrick,” Ronnie said with narrowed eyes.

“I didn’t! You’re smarter than all of us, Ronnie.”

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Now you’re patronizing me.”

“What I’m doing is being reminded that I can’t win with you, that’s what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Then as Roland and Bob came in, she added, “Good luck with it.”

(Chapter 3)

#schitt's creek ff #schitt's creek fic #david x patrick #david x patrick ff #david x patrick fic #patrick brewer #my fic

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phati-sari · 5 years

Text

Arshi FF: Tere Bin - Chapter 1

(I changed the cover.)

Chapter 1: Tere Bin (listen while reading)

Arnav

“You don’t want to see my face? Then be happy. Because I’m going away from you forever. I’m returning to Lucknow. Forever.”

Arnav stepped out of the helicopter, figure bent as he strode out of the shadow of its rapidly spinning blades.

He had not anticipated returning, not so soon, and certainly not in these circumstances.

And yet, she had compelled him here, to the shadow of Sheesh Mahal.

To Lucknow.

The mansion lay empty, in a state of disarray. Though it no longer operated as a hotel, his plans to turn the site into a textile mill had not come to fruition as quickly as he’d hoped.

No matter. I’ll look into it personally while I …

The shrill ring of his phone distracted him from the thought.

“Yeah, Aman?”

“Your accommodation is ready, Sir. Mohan should already be there with your car. Your first meeting is at nine-thirty in the morning. I’ve emailed you the required documents and agenda items.”

“And the list?” Arnav prompted his manager. “I need that list.”

“The new secretary has compiled a list of the best sweet vendors in Lucknow. I’ve emailed it to you as well.”

“Not the best sweet vendors. All of them.”

“All of them, Sir?”

“Don’t repeat my words back to me.”

“Sorry, Sir. I’ll arrange it right away.”

Pocketing the phone with a sigh, Arnav made his way across the grounds to where a white car waited. Mohan handed him the keys with a nod.

“Are you staying?” Arnav asked his driver.

“With my Mama’s son. He’s waiting for me at the gates of the estate.”

“Hmmm. I won’t need you for the rest of the day. Meet me at the hotel at eight tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Bhaiya.”

Arnav slid into the car, luxuriating in its familiar confines, and turned the ignition. He drove aimlessly, eyes darting left and right as he searched for a slip of a girl with a brilliant smile.

He was not, of course, here solely for Khushi Kumari Gupta. He was here for his factory, for his business, for his sister.

He was here for himself.

Two weeks had passed. Two weeks after she’d declared her intention to leave Delhi altogether. Two weeks in which he’d played and replayed every interaction, wondering where it’d all gone wrong.

Why? Why has she become so important to me?

So essential.

He’d even offered to drive his sister to the temple in Laxmi Nagar. And the sight of the locked doors of her home had shifted something inside him.

She was everywhere.

She was in the embroidery Nani admired.

She was in the gatherings Di organised.

She was in the jalebi Jija-ji made.

Manoeuvring his car into an unexpectedly narrow laneway, Arnav sighed as he waited for another car to complete a complicated series of turns. Though he usually relished the silence of his car, he flicked the sound system to life in a half-hearted attempt to dispel some of his restlessness.

Lekar yaad teri raatein meri kati

Mujhse baatein teri karti hain chandni

Tanha hai tujh bin raatein meri

Din mere din ke jaise nahin

He skipped to the next song with a grumble. Aakash’s young cousin, Babli, had optimistically made him a CD when she’d last visited.

“Arnav-bhaiya,” her lecturing had reminded him strongly of Di. “You can’t drive around in such a quiet car all day. I’ll give you some music.”

Though he’d tried to refuse, Di had happily slotted the CD into the player the next time they’d gone for a drive. And there it’d stayed, silent, until now.

The laneway finally cleared, allowing him to inch forward. With nothing else left to think about, his mind raced down a pathway he usually worked hard to avoid.

At eighteen, Khushi Kumari Gupta has more in common with Babli than she does with me.

He often felt old, as if the tragedies in his childhood had aged him irrevocably, but this went beyond that. A part of him was acutely aware that Khushi wasn’t his equal, that he had no right to push her — challenge her — as he had when she’d been in his employ.

And yet the strange cocktail of emotion she inspired in his blood didn’t allow for anything else.

When she was with him, the ache seemed to hurt a little less.

When she was with him, the world seemed brighter.

When she was with him, he was Arnav.

And with that thought, he turned the car towards his hotel.

#####

Time slipped through his fingers like so much water. Meetings, lunches, site tours and phone calls had taken up most of his days. The remaining waking hours had been dedicated to scouring the sweet-shops of Lucknow for his ex-employee.

Arnav refused to feel guilty about the routine he’d established — entering a store, taking a quick look around while pretending to peruse the wares, sometimes asking questions about a girl named Khushi, before leaving without making a purchase.

I’m a diabetic, what the hell will I do with sweets?

But the search was agonisingly slow. He’d asked Aman to both expand it to unregistered businesses and to focus on sweet-shops registered under the Gupta name. And though he’d had the foresight to transfer Khushi’s bio-data onto his phone, he’d been disappointed to find she’d listed her home address in Laxmi Nagar.

Always the need to be contrary. She’ll drive me mad.

The number on her file was useless — he’d smashed her phone in the store-room — and calling her was out of the question regardless. It already felt odd, maybe even wrong, to hunt for her father’s sweet-shop. In his mind, looking for her home strayed uncomfortably close to stalking.

And so he was trapped in a cycle of working and searching for her, work and search, work and search, a colourless monotony only brightened by brief calls from Di.

“Chhote,” she’d called this morning. “What are you doing today?”

“Nothing, Di. Just negotiations and meetings with the lawyers.”

“Are you taking your medication?”

“Yes, Di.”

A truth.

“And are you eating properly?”

“Yes, Di.”

A white lie.

“Did you go to the temple as I suggested?”

“What the—!?” he’d frowned. “No, I did not go to the temple.”

A giggle from his sister, “Is your work there almost complete?”

“No.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Di had sobered up. “Why did you go back there? You said it yourself — there’s nothing for us there anymore.”

“You don’t want to see my face? Then be happy. Because I’m going away from you forever. I’m returning to Lucknow. Forever.”

“I have a few things I need to do.”

“Don’t forget what Nani asked for. You know how she is about sweets.”

His smile had been small, “They have to be from Lucknow.”

“Exactly. Your Jija-ji is of the same opinion ... it’s a shame you can’t get recommendations from Khushi-ji.”

A sudden quickening of his pulse as he’d deflected, “How’s Jija-ji?”

"It's wonderful having him back, Chhote. He's so attentive and caring. I can’t believe we just had our third wedding anniversary."

“I’m glad. Go pester him, I have a meeting.”

“Chhote … you …” she’d sighed. “Okay, bye. Take care of yourself.”

“You too, Di.”

Now, some ten hours later, Arnav slid into his car and greeted Mohan with a nod.

“Finished for the day, bhaiya?”

“That was the last meeting, yes,” he opened an email from Aman as he answered.

“Back to the hotel?”

“Yeah,” he glanced at his driver. “I’ll grab some dinner.”

They didn’t speak again until they were five minutes from the hotel.

“Uhh, bhaiya … I ha-have something … something to …”

“Something wrong?” Arnav frowned.

Mohan spoke in a rush, “N-no. My cousin, he suggested a sweet shop in Lucknow.”

The other man quailed under his stare.

“S-sorry, bhaiya. Aman-bhaiya mentioned that you’re looking.”

Deciding Aman needed a refresher on the perils of gossip, Arnav slid the phone into a pocket as he formed a response.

“Nani asked for sweets,” he opted for brevity.

“She’ll like these. It’s a small shop but my cousin swears by them. It’s on the other side of town, though. Near that dargah you visited last time.”

A flash of memory, a figure in pure white and a small, silver key.

“Write it down.”

Arnav closed his eyes with a sigh and leaned onto the headrest.

Two more days.

I’ll go home if I don’t find her in two days.

Chapter 2

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #arshi #ipkknd ff #arshi ff #iwrotethis #mine #ff: tere bin

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