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glxssylaufey · 3 years

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Mischief Maker - Chapter 2

a/n: i’m sorry this is a bit longer than usual ahh! i also apologize if the writing is a little bad or if there’s any mistakes, i tried my best :) also i apologize if you’re not on the taglist, it didn’t let me tag some of you. anyways, enjoy!

summary: loki x reader ; The time has come to attend Stark’s party. How will the reader handle Loki’s mischief?

word count: 5,156

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of bullying, language, slightly spicy hehe

taglist: @alex-sulli @delightfulheartdream @mademoiselledubois @destructivebliss @kingtwhiddleston @madcrazy50 @rachel-voychuk

It was no secret that Tony Stark loved to make a grand entrance to everything he does. This morning was no exception. The time was around 8:15 when Tony practically kicked your door down to rip your blinds open. Sometimes you almost felt as if he was just another father figure in your life.

“Rise and shine!” he announced, forcing sunlight into your room. “We have a big day today, Y/N, c’mon!” he spoke as he continued to shake you awake. You lazily blinked open your eyes, groaning when Tony ripped your blankets from you. You already knew what he was here for.

“Alright, whatcha got for me?” Tony asked as he looked for the paintings he had requested the night before. You sighed.

“A headache, that’s what I have for you.” you replied, shoving your face back into your pillow.

“No, you’re not allowed to have a headache.” he simply stated. “Let me guess, you don’t have any paintings picked out?” You sat up on your bed, rolling your eyes when you saw Tony standing in the middle of your room with his arms crossed like a child.

“I can pick some out in literally five minutes, Tony, just let me wake up.” you said waving your hand at him, hoping he’d be satisfied with your answer.

“Yeah? Well make it quick, I don’t have all day.” he argued, walking towards your door. “By the way, breakfast is ready.” Tony said in a sing-song voice before leaving your room. You simply hummed in response, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Today was going to be difficult, you already knew. Even though you were agreeing to spend your time with bidding paintings at the party, you still had your heart set on sneaking Loki in somehow. You were just stumped on how you would get that to happen.

After a morning of much needed breakfast, you got ready to face the day. Tony had asked both you and Natasha to go to the store to pick up a long list of supplies for the party. So there you stood, scanning the store’s large selection of alcohol bottles, not knowing which one Tony would want.

“What does he have on the list?” you ask, turning to Nat. She quickly scanned through the dramatically large catalog and shrugged.

“Just whatever looks good, I guess.” she replied before looking back to the shelves. Without another word, Natasha settled for three huge bottles of vodka. You don’t argue, seeing as you were just as clueless as to what Tony would want. “So tell me, what’s been going on with you?” she asks suddenly. You both proceeded to explore the store for whatever else the list requested.

“Oh, you know.” you paused. “The usual.” What ‘the usual’ was, you had no idea. Your life hasn’t exactly been normal since Thor had brought Loki into the Avengers Tower.

“Like what, painting pretty pictures and babysitting gods?” Nat laughed, plopping a case of Coca-Cola into the shopping cart. You were about to protest against her teasing when you realized that truly was what you have been doing for the past two days.

“Yeah, pretty much.” you admitted with a sigh. Natasha chuckled, before a moment of silence.

“How’s Loki?” she asked suddenly. The question made you tense up. It wasn’t that you hated talking about Loki, just something about him made your mind go blank.

“He’s fine.” you replied plainly. You then noticed Nat raise an eyebrow at you as if she knew that you were hiding something. Which she did, of course. You opted to continue, not seeing a point in lying to your friend or yourself. “He’s not as awful as everyone claims him to be. I think he’s just misunderstood.” you persuaded. Natasha nodded, listening intently.

“What makes you think that?” she questioned. That’s when you realized Natasha only knew the Loki that had invaded New York city, much like everyone else. She only saw the villain of the story and not the god that you saw up on the hill. That’s when you began to pour your heart out.

“Yesterday when I took him outside, I saw a side of him that I don’t think anyone else has seen before. He told me stories about Asgard and it sounded like so much more than just some ancient legend. It seemed so normal. He seemed so normal.” you explained, almost passionately. “I don’t know, Nat. I think he’s actually really sweet.” you admitted. Natasha’s eyes went wide.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you like him!” she gasped. Your heart practically stopped at her accusation. There’s no way that you had feelings for the God of Mischief.

“Oh my- absolutely not!” you stammered. “I’m just simply being kind!” you insisted. You could feel your face burning, undoubtedly displaying your embarrassment.

“Y/N, you cannot like Loki, that’s insane!” Nat declared. You could practically feel the stares from the other people in the store, considering how loud the two of you were being.

“I just said I don’t!” you corrected her.

“But you most certainly are lying!” Natasha accused, halting the shopping cart.

“I’m not.”

“Say that to me with a straight face then.”

“Nat, PUSH. THE. CART.”

“HA! I knew it!”

You both continued to bicker and squabble for the rest of the shopping trip. It wasn’t until you and Natasha reached the checkout line that the childlike arguing returned back to its normal conversational tone.

“Oh god, what will Tony think?” Natasha said with a gasp. You groaned, covering your face with your hands. The longer you listened to her babble on about Loki, the more you realized she could be right. You admit, Loki was a fairly attractive person. Plus his gentlemanly charm didn’t help your case much. Oh, who were you kidding? Loki was downright gorgeous and you knew it. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you knew that you were slowly catching feelings for the god.

“Tony can’t know, he’d have a fit.” you spoke almost in a whisper, as if Tony was listening to your conversation.

“Oh, so you admit it? You do have a crush on Loki?” Natasha asked eagerly.

“N-no! Well, yes, but you can’t say a word about it!” you pleaded almost in disbelief at what you had just admitted. You had a crush on the almighty Loki and there was no denying it. Natasha simply giggled like a school girl.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” she assured you. Except the way she continued to smile about it the whole car ride home showed that she was going to have a difficult time keeping your secret.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Romanoff, nobody can know!” you suddenly said as she drove the two of you back to the Avengers Tower.

“I’m sorry, I just have to say it.” she started. You shook your head, knowing this conversation wouldn’t end anytime soon. “You should try to make a move tonight.” she suggested, giving you a smug smirk.

“Oh c’mon, you know he’s not allowed at the party.” you claimed. “But I have been thinking about ways to sneak him in tonight.” Natasha mocked a gasp.

“Y/N, how scandalous of you.” she poked fun at you, causing you to giggle. “I must say though, I think you can absolutely do better.” she suddenly stated, making your jaw drop slightly.

“What do you mean?” you asked, slightly put out.

“Loki is a mass murderer!” Natasha indicated. “Not to mention he’s tortured our friends and acts like a complete asshole.” she continued. You wave your hand at her in an attempt to silence her.

“Like I said, he’s changed.” you defended. Natasha didn’t respond, leaving you two in silence. After some time, you thought of your task to sell your paintings at the party. You decided that it could be best if you were to just leave Loki in his room. Plus, it’s not like everything Natasha had said wasn’t true. Perhaps it's for the best that you don’t get too close with the terrorist of New York.

Third Person POV:

Loki watched his brother pace the floor as he sat on the bed, pondering ways to sneak himself into the party. The longer they allowed time to pass by, the more hopeless Loki began to feel.

“We’re short on time brother, this won’t work.” Loki sighed. “I say we just go with my idea.” he suggested. Thor gave him a stern look and crossed his arms.

“Loki, we are not going to tie up one of the party members to disguise yourself as them.” Thor lectured his brother. Loki scoffed at Thor’s statement. After a bit more pacing, Thor snapped his fingers as a scheme formed in his mind.

“But perhaps disguises are not such a terrible idea after all!” Thor quipped with a large grin. Loki raised his eyebrow at Thor, signaling him to continue with his thought. “Think back to when we were children. That trick you always played on me when you would transform yourself into a snake just to stab me.” Thor explained with slight annoyance in his voice, remembering those times of his childhood.

“If you’re suggesting I slither into the event as a snake, I don’t think the midgardians would be too pleased with serpents being let loose in the building.” Loki glared at Thor, thinking it was a poor idea.

“Yes, but that’s only if you are caught.” Thor urged with a devious smile. He knew his younger brother was always up for a challenge and this task seemed perfect for him. Loki gave the thought a second chance before chuckling to himself.

“Excuse me, brother.” Loki sighed, standing up from the bed. “I have a party to attend.”

Stark’s party was full to the brim with people. You had already known ahead of time that the event would be completely packed, yet the amount of people still managed to astonish you. So there you were, greeting people as they walked in. You gave warm smiles and shook hands with the ones who offered it. After some friendly greetings, you were approached by Tony who had ushered you away from the entrance. You expected nothing less from him.

“Alright Y/N, this is your deadline. Where’s the paintings?” he asked, feigning impatience.

“Relax, Tony, I’ve got everything set up by the bar.” you advised him, gesturing towards your stand which displayed the art.

“Oh good, because I’ve already promised like four people that I had museum quality shit here.” he shared quickly, walking towards your platform. You roll your eyes and dramatically sigh at Tony.

“Of course you have.” you said, following him. “Well I suppose I should get to work then.” you said, observing the line of people in front of the small stage.

“Good thinking. Thanks again, Picasso.” Tony thanked you, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder before sauntering over to a large group of people. You took a step onto the platform and strolled over to the small microphone displayed on a stand for you. Everyone took note of your presence and gave their full attention to you. You looked out to the crowd before sighing. As much as you weren’t in the mood to converse with a large amount of people, you always had an open heart for Tony.

“Hello, everyone!” you greeted into the microphone. “My name is Y/N and I am the creator of these paintings presented before you today. Let’s just start with a little bit of browsing, shall we?” you suggested, hoping the crowd would see eye to eye with your proposal. Much to your relief, they did, nodding their heads with agreement. “Great! Bidding will start in ten minutes.” you announced before turning the microphone off. You sighed in relief, happy you had extra time for yourself. In all honesty, you just needed time to get a drink. You were convinced you could never survive a Stark party without some sort of alcohol to give you an extra confidence boost. As you made your way to the bar, you were halted by no other than your friend Thor. He was dressed quite dapper, yet casual enough to give him easy mobility.

“Ah, Y/N! So lovely to see you.” he greeted, with a beer bottle in his hand.

“Thor, it’s great to see you too.” you nodded at him with a cordial smile. “You look striking tonight.” you complimented.

“Oh, you’re too kind. You look very well put together yourself.” Thor chuckled, giving you a friendly wink. You were wearing a nicely fitted red dress that fell right above your knees with lace to give it alluring details. You also wore black heels to give you an extra two or so inches.

“Thank you very much.” you blushed, giving him a curt nod. You began to walk away to retrieve a drink from the bar, but it seemed Thor had different plans. He quickly stepped in front of you, halting you in your tracks.

“One more thing!” Thor announced. “I believe my drink requires a refill.” he explained waving his empty bottle almost nervously. You chuckle lightly, wondering why he was telling you this.

“Are you asking me to get you another beer, Odinson?” you snicker. Thor’s eyes widen as he begins to stammer for the right words.

“No, no! My apologies, I’m perfectly capable of getting my own drink. I’d just like for you to join me.” he specified, gesturing towards the bar, awkwardly smiling.

“Oh!” you exclaimed in delight. You felt having your friend to accompany you would help ease your mind. “I’d like that, thank you.” you said as you started to walk. Thor followed closely next to you with a beaming smile.

Everything was going perfectly.

Once you reached the bar you took a seat on one of the tall bar stools. You were scanning the menu when Thor set his empty bottle on the counter before taking a step away from the bar.

“Please excuse me, Lady Y/N. I believe Stark has called for me.” Thor stated quickly. Confused, you turned to look at the large mass of people Tony was talking to. You could’ve sworn Tony hadn’t even paid attention to anything but his guests. Before you could question anything, Thor had already quickly turned to walk the opposite direction. You sighed, turning back towards the bar when you realized there wasn’t even a bartender to tend to you.

“Well this was useless.” you muttered to yourself. As you were about to stand from your seat, Thor’s beer bottle began to shake. You froze, thinking your eyes were just playing tricks on you. Suddenly, a small snake began to crawl out of the bottle and onto the counter. You gasped, jumping from your seat in shock. Surely you were imagining things. The green scaly creature paused to curiously look up at you then turned to slowly slither down the opposite side of the bar. You approached the bar once more, peeking over the top of the counter to search for the snake. Then with a green glow, the snake quickly transformed into the one and only Loki Laufeyson. He simply sighed, brushing off his gorgeously tailored black suit and looked up at you.

“Good evening.” he greeted casually. Your mouth hung open, completely caught off guard at what you had just witnessed.

“Loki, you- how- you aren't supposed to be here!” you stumbled your words in confusion.

“Yes, but was it not you who said I shouldn’t be cooped up in my chambers all day?” Loki snorted playfully. You had no possible way to protest. Instead you resorted to looking around to make sure nobody was looking in your direction. This earned a barely audible groan from Loki. “I presume you wish for me to change back and slither my way back to my room then?” he questioned.

“No!” you declared maybe a little too quickly. “It’s okay, you can stay.” you said trying to remain calm. Loki smiled at how flustered you were, finding it almost amusing.

“Verywell.” he settled calmly. “Now, my lady, may I offer you a drink?” he suggested with a tone that gave you uncontrollable butterflies. You blushed at his offer with a nervous smile.

“I think a red wine will suffice, thank you.” you replied as naturally as you possibly could. Though of course it was a difficult task trying to keep calm. Loki just nodded and turned to prepare your glass. You couldn’t help but look over your shoulder to be sure nobody was watching you. You knew that Stark practically had eyes everywhere, not to mention anybody could easily take a glance at Loki and recognize him from New York. Because of this, you spoke the first thing that came to your mind.

“Loki, we have to get out of here.” you uttered straightforward. He paused pouring your glass of wine to give you a puzzled look. “Tony is bound to realize that you’re here. Plus the bartender could come back at any moment.” you told him, quickly standing to your feet. Loki just nodded before setting the wine bottle down with a slightly disappointed sigh.

“Lead the way then.” Loki said almost in a testing tone. Without another word, the same green glow from earlier masked over his body and changed him back into his serpent form. Loki snaked back into the beer bottle that he had once emerged from, hinting for you to carry him as Thor did. You grabbed the bottle from the counter and turned to walk from the bar. Where you were headed was beyond you. At this point, you were simply just trying to get away from the crowd of people. As you walked, you looked down at the empty beer bottle to be sure Loki sat comfortably in his glass container. He simply looked up at you and poked his tongue out at you in response. As a result of not watching where you were walking, you ended up walking right into a woman’s body, nearly knocking her over. You gasp, taking a step back from the mystery person.

“I am so sorry!” you exclaimed before quickly looking down into the beer bottle to affirm Loki was okay. Though what you were not expecting was a familiar voice to respond to your apologies.

“Well would you look at who it is.” the woman spoke with a chuckle. “You were always quite a clumsy girl.” she remarked. When you looked up to identify the woman, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your mouth.

“Alice Weaver!” you exclaimed. You didn’t know who to expect the woman to be, but it certainly wasn’t her. Alice was a girl you had met back in highschool. She had insisted on devoting her teenage years to making yours miserable. It had started when her boyfriend at the time had broken up with her and he attempted to use you as a rebound. Her jealousy for you has been undying ever since.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Y/N!” she grinned, her shrill voice dripping with sarcasm. “How have you been?” she asked.

“I’ve been fine, thanks.” you said, shifting from side to side. You made an attempt to walk past her, but of course she quickly stepped in front of you before you could make any distance.

“Oh good!” she quipped as she looked you up and down. She then caught sight of the beer bottle in your hand. “I never took you for a beer drinker, though.” you panicked a little, hoping she wouldn’t see the small snake hiding inside of it.

“It’s for a friend.” you quickly whipped up an answer. Alice scoffed.

“That’s what they all say, isn’t it?” she questioned, keeping her seemingly sweet smile on display. You gritted your teeth. In all honesty, you were still in shock that she was even here in the first place. “Anyways, I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to hear that I’m actually staying at the compound until tomorrow. I’m here to assist Stark on research.” she went on. You listened in disbelief.

“Research?” you asked plainly, your throat running dry.

“Yes of course, I’m studying engineering and physics.” Alice gushed.

“Wonderful.” you spat as friendly as you could possibly muster. You went to take a step and she walked in front of you yet again.

“Oh, Y/N, shouldn’t you be over there bidding those… pictures?” she said, pointing over towards your stand. “Here, I’ll hold this for you!” she said quickly snatching the beer bottle. You gasped trying your best to grab it back.

“Wait, no! Alice, I need that!” you yelped, struggling to grab the bottle back. You were suddenly pulled back from her, leaving you empty handed.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?!” Tony whisper-screamed to you, retracting you from Alice. “I have a group of very unhappy people waiting for you. Now stop bugging my student and do your job.” he exclaimed before softly shoving you towards the small stage. Now you were panicking. Tony Stark and your high school nemesis were in possession of Loki and you couldn’t do a single thing about it. So there you were, nervously walking up onto the stage and turning the microphone on.

“I am so sorry for the delay everyone, I ran into some issues.” you spoke to the crowd nervously. “I suppose I’ve kept you all waiting long enough, let’s get started.” you clapped your hands together, trying to seem as normal as possible. As you continued to speak out towards the crowd, you watched from afar as Tony and Alice continued to talk. You could tell by the way the two kept glancing over at you, they were certainly speaking of your behavior. You shakily sighed, going to grab a painting to exhibit it on the easel. Once you were back in front of the microphone you opened your mouth to speak but was abruptly interrupted when you felt something crawl down the back of your neck, causing you to squeak. This earned a suspicious reaction from the people in the crowd. You quickly recomposed yourself when you heard little snake hisses behind your ear. Loki. You were immensely relieved that he managed to sneak out of the bottle. He must have quickly slithered up your arm and up your back when Alice had grabbed the bottle from you. Although you were beyond grateful for his escape, feeling his cold scales on your bare skin made you shutter. You quickly cleared your throat.

“Excuse me, I just am not myself tonight.” you managed to squeak out. “A-anyways, do we have any takers for this piece?” you stuttered out. As you continued to make biddings for your painting, you could feel Loki leisurely slither down your neck and into the back of your dress. You slightly jumped at feeling Loki enter the back of your dress, making your heart race. “Sold!” you nearly barked out, hoping it would get Loki to cease his crawling. It didn’t. He continued down your dress until he rested over the back of your bra. You began to walk as casual as possible to your next art piece. As you bent down to pick it up you felt Loki crawl to the side of your dress towards the cup of your bra. After picking it up, you subtly brushed your bicep over your side, hoping to halt Loki’s movement. With your luck, this seemed to only spur him on. Loki then made haste to sneak into the cup of your bra, causing you to gasp.

“Can we hurry it up, please?” a very impatient man nagged from the audience. You groaned in response, not entirely sure if it was from the man’s remark or Loki.

“M-my apologies, sir.” you apologized, clearly annoyed yourself. “I guess I just have a chill I can’t seem to shake.” you admitted to the audience, but mostly directed towards the small snake currently resting in your bra. You felt him nestled comfortably against your skin, finally stopping to rest. “Next up is one of my personal favorites. Do we have any takers?” you spoke out to the crowd. You continued the bidding, trying the best you could to ignore the fact that Loki Laufeyson, the God of Mischief was presently relaxed in the cup of your bra as a snake. As you continued speaking, you felt him hiss from time to time causing his small forked tongue to brush the skin of your sternum. You swore it made your breath hitch everytime. This continued until every single piece was presented to its new owner. By the end of the night, you ended up with a large amount of cash though you didn’t seem to care much about that. While you granted the very last person your last painting, Stark approached with a drink in his hand. You whined to yourself upon seeing him. You were far too flustered to even deal with his snarky remarks.

“Congrats, Y/N! You got the job done.” Tony joked. You leered at him, walking off the stage.

“Tony, not now.” you said, trying to walk away.

“Oh don’t be such a sour puss, you got loads of cash.” he continued to provoke. “Hold on, I got one more thing for you.” You felt your body stiffen. You sigh, turning on your heels to face Tony.

“What?” you asked plainly. Tony flashed you a smile as he handed you the drink he had come to you with. Whiskey on ice.

“For you, it’s on the house. Just a ‘thank you’ for tonight.” he said, sounding truly genuine. You couldn’t possibly stay mad at him, even if it was Tony Stark. You took the glass from him and returned the smile.

“You’re welcome.” you smiled. Just as you were about to take a sip of your much deserved reward, you felt Loki abruptly start to move again. He began to creep his way out the side of the cup of your bra, passing into the opposite one. This resulted in a yelp that had been caught in your throat all night, startling Tony.

“Y/N, are you-”

“Loki!”

“What?”

“I have to check on Loki!” you quickly shouted setting the drink down. “H-he’s been in his room all night!” you swiftly made an excuse. Thankfully, your excuse was adequate enough for you to get out of there. You swiftly speed walked to the nearest bathroom avoiding any more interruptions. The quicker you moved, the more agitated you could feel Loki getting. As you made your way to the bathroom you could feel him continue to slither around your bra. Once you finally reached the bathroom you slammed the door shut and pulled the hem of your dress away from your chest.

“OUT!” you screamed. Loki listened, crawling out of your bra and down your leg. Once he reached the floor, his magic glow covered him once more, turning him back into his godly self.

“Well…” he panted, clearly shaken up from how speedy you walked. “Could you have moved any faster?” he nearly growled. You could feel your anger rise and your patience snap.

“How is any of this my fault?!” you shouted at him. “What in the hell were you doing, going into my bra like that?” you asked. Loki rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Oh my apologies, in case you didn’t notice, I had nowhere else to go!” he snapped back. You loudly groaned as you covered your face with your hands.

“Tonight was a disaster, all thanks to you!” you argued, pointing a finger at him.

“Me?!” he barked, causing his voice to echo throughout the bathroom. You jumped at his sudden loudness. “I put all my efforts in sneaking into this awful party just so I could simply serve you a drink to thank you for your generosity from yesterday.” he spoke loudly, slowly approaching you. His words shocked you. You hadn’t realized that Loki only wanted to attend the event just so he could show you some kindness. Your face fell, almost feeling sorry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” you said in a softer tone. Loki remained irritated, taking another big step towards you so there was almost no more space between the two of you. Your breath became ragged.

“Perhaps next time, at least make an attempt to stay calm and keep yourself from squirming.” he requested bitterly.

“You want to speak about squirming?!” your voice raised again. “How about next time, you don’t go into my bra!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” Loki rolled his eyes. “Your breath betrays you, Midgardian. If I didn’t know any better, the hitch in your throat would tell me that you rather enjoyed it.” he mocked. You could feel your face burn a bright red, embarrassment flooding your emotions.

“Y-you disgust me!” you spat out. Loki snickered almost as if he was purposely trying to provoke you.

“There it is again.” he pointed out. “You get flustered so easily, it’s almost pitiful.” You remained silent, stunned by his remark. He continued to stare at you, his face dangerously close to yours.

“I hate you.” you whispered. What happened next was completely out of your control. Instead of getting anger out of Loki, your statement sparked something uncontrollable. He swiftly grabbed your hips and crashed his lips upon yours, sealing you both in a passionate kiss. Before your mind had time to register what was happening, he pulled away, removing his hands from you completely. He examined your face, searching for any sort of restraint. Realizing what he had just done, he became worrisome.

“My most sincere apologies, I-” you quickly cut him off, pulling him back into yet another searing kiss. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as the kiss grew hungrier. His hands traveled up to your face to pull you in closer, making your breath quicken. Your mind was racing with all sorts of emotions, but you knew one thing was for sure: you didn’t want this moment to ever end. But it did. You both quickly pulled away from each other when the door to the bathroom swung open. Your head snapped to look at whoever entered the bathroom and your heart sank when you realized who it was. Alice Weaver stood at the door, looking both you and Loki up and down. She laughed in disbelief at what she saw in front of her.

“Am I interrupting something?”

#tom hiddleston #marvel #marvel mcu #loki #loki odinson #fanfic #loki (marvel)#loki fanfic #loki x reader #chapter two #marvel fanfic series #marvel fanfic #loki x y/n #thomas william hiddleston

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

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Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 26

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 26 - Photograph

From the South Third Ring Road overpass, turn right and cross a small road covered by empress trees to reach Shenjiayuan.

The fragments of low-rise buildings and the chaotic street stalls on both sides of the street were standoffish in such a modern city. However, this was one of the country's famous antique marketplaces, and tens of thousands of people came here every day with lots of money to spend, risking being baked by the sun and getting heatstroke by lingering around each of the stalls, hoping to find one or two hidden treasures stashed away in a corner somewhere. It was an industry gaining some traction. There were many speculators, collectors, tourists, calligraphers, painters, and even gamblers among them. They firmly believe that a city thousands of years old hid unknown wealth somewhere. It was this mentality that gave them a similar look; intoxicated and wild-eyed with a long outstretched tongue, drooling over the crude high antique imitations on the stalls.

This was the place where Lin Yan made countless memories when he was a teenager. The middle school he went to was nearby. After school, he often came here alone with his schoolbag on his back. Back then, there weren't as many people. There was a very polluted river nearby that hadn't been turned into a landfill yet. The air was always filled with the smell of stinky salted fish. The vendors who set up stalls hadn't yet learned to casually laze about while sneaking glances at the faces of customers to judge how much money they could cheat out of them.

The old days were like rolls of yellowed newspapers. A young man in a light blue school uniform walked through it, exchanging his pocket money for a piece of colored glaze from the late Qing Dynasty. He squatted in front of a stall to sift through the options. The old man at the stall was smoking a cigarette while telling the story of Liulichang in the late Qing Dynasty. Lin Yan didn't know why he was only interested in street stalls when kids his age were saving up to buy posters of celebrities. Just like when they were gushing over the Belgian chocolates their relatives brought home, he was still obsessed for years with the pot full of honey hard candy the old lady in front of the school had.

The wood, rice paper, and the dusty rusticity of the old objects held a taste of time, and teenage Lin Yan couldn't help but be immersed in it. Like a lone fish in the stream.

The sun was shining on the ground at 3 o'clock that afternoon. Lin Yan carried a bulging bag in his left hand and a cup of roasted sencha milk tea in his right. He paced slowly in the crowd, the grass green V-neck T-shirt and cotton calf-length pants standing out. He didn't know why antique hunters liked to wear black, the dust on their clothes making them look like they had just crawled out of the ground.

"Here, it's weirdly hot. Do you want a sip?" Lin Yan shook the milk tea, the ice cube hitting the wall of the cup with a soft thud. Onlookers thought he was talking to the air when actually there was an invisible person next to him helping take off some of the weight of the bag. That mean, even though Lin Yan was carrying a lot of things, it didn't take much effort.

Xiao Yu lowered his head and took a sip where Lin Yan had touched. He bit on the straw a few times and turned his head.

Lin Yan wanted to laugh a little, and brought the cup back to the corner of his mouth.

A-Yan said that Xiao Yu might remember more following him around, so Lin Yan took him to the antique market after breakfast, hoping that something from his own time period might bring something back. Who would've guessed that, after going through all these stalls, lots of purchases were made but there was no progress with the ghost's memory. Lin Yan glanced at the bag in his hand. It was stuffed with clothes bought from a well-known Hanfu store in Shenjiayuan. They were well-made and expensive. Most people only bought them to complete a Hanfu set for their collection. For Lin Yan to buy these kinds of clothes on a daily errand, that was really a rare sight. Even the clerk couldn't help but do a double take.

Xiao Yu didn't understand the time they were currently living in, so he stood his ground and refused to adapt his style to the times. Lin Yan rolled his eyes and glared at him bitterly. He thought, you're the boss here making me throw away my money while I'm just your servant who follows behind you and pays.

Right after they left one store, before he could recover from the purchase, Xiao Yu suddenly stopped when he passed a woodworking shop. Lin Yan looked at the store’s gorgeous decorations and pieces of pearwood and red sandalwood furniture, whining that he really couldn't afford this stuff. Xiao Yu ignored him and dragged him inside. Thirty minutes later, Lin Yan swiped his card to check out under the watchful eye of the clerk and bought a beautiful Tongzhi wood guqin.

"Oh great ancestor, what more do you want?" Lin Yan tucked the order slip from the woodworking shop into his pocket and glared daggers at Xiao Yu.

Xiao Yu shook his head nonchalantly.

There were more people on the street. Some of them didn't know the treasures that they had found, and they couldn't hide their excitement, sneaking a peek at what they have just bought. Some of them had grim faces, looking like they had been ripped off. There were also groups of foreign tourists wearing Lei Feng hats gathered at the roadside to buy shadow puppets. Occasionally, they turned around and curiously look at the antique city, which was built in the traditional Chinese-style.

In the market area to the south, there were large ancient buildings imitating Ming and Qing style architecture. The bustling narrow street seemed like scene straight out of the Water Margin. The wooden window on the second floor were pushed up, supported by a short stick. Looking up, he could see customers sipping tea. The shopkeeper was a short man, busily carrying a large teapot back and forth.

The narrow street lead to a large emerald-green stall covered with plastic tarps to offer shade from the sun. Lin Yan and Xiao Yu walked under the shadow of the tarps when they heard a familiar voice yelling loudly.

"Look at how green the colour is and how good the water head* is! You won't be able to find another one at this price anywhere in Shenjiayuan!" The peddler selling jade pieces had a round belly, one foot on the stool, holding up a transparent fortune bracelet, spittle flying everywhere. The plainly dressed middle-aged woman in front of the stall looked hesitant. She took the bracelet and took another look at it.

*(T/N: Water head [水头] refers to how light shines through jade. Kind of like how the light would look if it were shining through water. There's a list of transparencies if you want to look at how jade is graded, but basically the best jade has a vivid colour with even transparency across the whole piece.)

"It's too expensive, lower the price a bit." The woman said sincerely.

"It's so green, so transparent, I can't go any lower. Miss, if you want a lower price, it'll affect my livelihood. Don't waste my time." The peddler grabbed the bracelet, his eyes bulging.

"I wanted to buy it for my daughter as a birthday gift. It's too expensive. It'd be a pity if she dropped it. Give me the lowest you can go."

"Here." The peddler rolled his eyes. He took out his calculator, punched in a few numbers, and showed it to the woman in front of him, "Is this all right? I can't go any lower!"

Lin Yan couldn't help but lean over and glance at the numbers on the screen. He let out a laugh.

The peddler squinted at him.

Lin Yan shook his head. He took the bracelet and said to the woman: "Don't buy this, he's fooling you."

"Hey, hey, what are you trying to say? I'm running an honest business here. If you don't believe me, go around and ask. . ."

Lin Yan smirked. He put the roasted sencha tea cup on the stall and held the bracelet at a different angle. The curved surface reflected the light from the plastic roof. He said to the woman buying the bracelet: "Look at the blurred edges of the reflection. If you look closely, you can see that there are very fine meshes on the surface." Lin Yan raised the bracelet to let the light through. "There is purple fluorescence inside, indicating that the reason this bracelet is so transparent because of acid washing and a glue filling."

"Also, notice how the green is only sitting on the surface and doesn't reach the middle. That means it was dyed after the fact. This thing is worth one or two hundred yuan. Don't buy it."

The peddler's nose and eyes scrunched up. At first glance, they looked like a dried walnut.

"Oh." The middle-aged woman hurriedly stuffed an envelope containing the money back into her bag, repeatedly thanking Lin Yan.

When she left, the peddler huffed. Pissed, he turned his head away, not looking at Lin Yan. Even his swollen belly seemed to be flatter than before.

"What else should I do when I notice that someone with money on the street?"

Lin Yan roughly flicked the peddler's forehead: "Everyone here has money. It's embarrassing to lie like this, there's no skill in it."

Several surrounding stalls burst out laughing. The peddler rolled his eyes back to normal. He grabbed Lin Yan’s milk tea and poured a few mouthfuls out of the plastic lid. He muttered while he crunched on the ice cubes: “I don't fool people in this business. It's not my fault their eyesight is poor. No refunds is the standard."

This much was true. Antique jade sales rely on good eyesight. Figuring out which store has more genuine products than fake depends on the customer. They can't return them either so the shop doesn't have to admit they were fakes. Lin Yan clicked his tongue: "These people don't know what to look for. You're just trying to make your father think you're good at this job."

The peddler rolled his eyes, knowing that he was in a bad position and couldn't say anything.

Lin Yan had been a frequent visitor to this antique market since he was a child. Since choosing his major in university, he preferred to come to the small stalls to practice his appraisal skills when he had nothing else to do. See what was selling for a high price but was bought for a low price. He was also kind and helped others pick out the best items, so many peddlers knew him. For example, Lin Yan first met this guy's father, a very honest old man. He even took out the receipt with the price he paid for it when he bargained with customers. Unfortunately, when Lin Yan graduated from high school, the old man fell ill and his son took over the business. and this was the leeching peddler in from of him.

Lin Yan wasn't polite with him. When he walked around the stall, he took out a copper box from under the table. Inside were piles of Ming and Qing paperweights. These objects were all family heirlooms that the original stall owner received from nearby residents’ homes when he was young. Lin Yan had just remembered this box of objects then dragged Xiao Yu over to look at them. Brass mirrors, jade bracelets, thumb rings, snuff boxes, tobacco pipes; Xiao Yu looked over them all and just shook his head. Lin Yan threw the last piece back into the box and patted the dust on his clothes, a little frustrated.

"That box has been there for ages and no one's ever touched it. What are you looking at it for?" The peddler kept squinting at him and was too curious not to ask about it.

"Looking for Ming Dynasty artifacts for my classes." Lin Yan actually didn't know what he was looking for. He moved on and put the box back.

"Ming Dynasty?" The peddler didn't care about the bracelet anymore. "Old man Liu has lots stashed away."

"No, no, no. . ." Lin Yan hurriedly refused, but he thought about it and sighed, "Forget it. I've been shopping all day and haven't gone there. I'll give it a try."

"Don't say the wrong thing. Good luck." The peddler made a face.

The shop run by old man Liu was quite famous in Shenjiayuan. Not just because he was the only antique peddler to sell only sell antique pictures, but also because he was notoriously grumpy. Every day, he'd leave the shop and hang up his old camera in the park to make money. Whenever he went to the shop to buy something, the owner was never there. Walking down the street, he ran into him wearing an old Mao suit, cursing and waving around. His thin mantis-like face was slanted and a pair of glasses rested on his nose at an angle. Sometimes the lens' were shattered like cobwebs, and sometimes the lens' weren't there at all.

His shop sells old photographs of the old city, hung densely from the floor to the ceiling. Because old photographs were difficult to reprint, they were also very expensive. The sub districts of Qianmen, Dashilan, old gardens in the setting sun in 1872, passers-by in long gowns with thin faces and numb eyes. The TV station came to interview him, but only half the program was filmed. From photographers to reporters, old man Liu chewed them all out without exception. The interview never went anywhere, and the shop still didn't have any business. The old man still walked around outside with his camera everyday.

The shop was in the northwest corner of Shenjiayuan and its location was considered unlucky. There was a symbol meant to ward off evil spirits designed by a famous Feng Shui master hung on the door. Xiao Yu couldn't enter and stood at the door waiting for Lin Yan.

Lin Yan looked at the ominous storefront. For the first time, he felt reluctant to part with Xiao Yu.

Unsurprisingly, Old Man Liu wasn't in the shop. A seven or eight-year-old girl in a red jacket was facing away from him. She was pointing at a photo on the wall and muttering something. When she heard someone enter the door, she turned back and grinned at Lin Yan.

Lin Yan was a little surprised. This little girl was his neighbor. Although he didn’t know where she lived, he often saw her running around in the yard downstairs in a dirty red dress. Sometimes when Lin Yan went out to buy dinner at night, he saw her playing with cats in the yard, no one coming to bring her home. He hadn't seen her often in the past month and he didn't expect to see her here.

Was it possible she was related to that strange old man? No wonder no one cared about her playing outside everyday, Lin Yan thought.

"Why are you here by yourself?" Lin Yan knelt down and asked her in a soft voice.

The little girl was lean, her eyes staring straight at Lin Yan, grinning silently. Lin Yan suddenly felt that the little girl’s smile probably made people feel uncomfortable. It didn’t seem right to call it a smile, but just a casual grin. The corners of her mouth were upturned but her eyes were dull. Wearing such an old jacket in summer, she seemed to be left behind by the times, like the rest of the photos in the room.

Lin Yan hesitated on whether he leave and wait outside for the strange old man.

"What the hell you XX, I XXXX. . ." Lin Yan was distracted, and suddenly there was a thud. Old man Liu hugging his broken camera fell through the front door. He fell on all fours in an extremely embarrassed posture, landing on the only part of the floor that had sunlight hitting it.

"A-Are you okay?" Lin Yan rushed over to help. Unexpectedly, the old man gave him a sour look. He rolled over and sat on the ground, patting the dirt on his knees, and continued his tirade of curses towards the door relentlessly. Lin Yan stood awkwardly off to the side, neither leaving nor staying.

The old man felt he had cursed enough. He grunted and got to his feet. When he turned his head and saw Lin Yan, his eyes widened like he had discovered a whole new world, and said with a quacking voice: "What are you doing here?"

"I came to buy something." Lin Yan didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Shouldn't that be the first thing the shop owner thinks of when he sees a customer in the store?

"Leave. What is there to buy? Young people are clueless." The old man held his stern gaze and walked around behind the counter, irritated: "Why are you still standing there? You have no business being here!"

Lin Yan didn't want to talk nonsense with the old man, so he pat his back and turned to leave.

"Hey! Wait!" The old man yelled. Lin Yan had just reached the door and was so frightened by the voice that he came to a halt.

"You look good, I'll take a picture of you." The old man suddenly walked out from behind the counter with his camera in hand. He grabbed Lin Yan by the collar and pulled him into the room. After couple of pushes, he stood beside the little girl. He squatted down involuntarily, and the shutter sounded with a few clicks. The old man's furrowed face appeared from behind the camera and he smacked his lips with satisfaction.

After the shutter, several photos appeared from the top of the camera. The old man took one in his hand and glanced at it. He pulled one out and shoved it at Lin Yan: "You take it."

Lin Yan was shown the strength of this old man. He turned his face angrily, trying to walk out, rubbing his shoulder: "I don't want to."

"Take it!" The old man yelled in Lin Yan's ear, making his ears ring.

Lin Yan took it and glanced speechlessly. He saw that in the black-and-white picture he stood like a wooden pole, staring expressionlessly at the wall. The background was dimmed, and the entire thing looked like a horror picture people would share online.

What's wrong with. . .

Lin Yan eyes widened and a nerve in his head popped. He couldn't help taking a step back, looking at himself in the photo. When he looked at the spot where he was standing when the picture was taken, it felt like a bucket of ice water was poured over his head.

The little girl who took the picture with him just now wasn't in the photo. He was the only person in the black and white background straight out of a horror movie.

Lin Yan hesitantly looked up. The girl in red was standing where he stood, wearing an out-of-date ragged jacket, grinning at him biting her fingernail.

"Hehe, hehe." The old man held up the camera to his crooked eyes and a piece of the lens fell to the ground. "Perfect, great picture."

Lin Yan crawled out of the house.

The sun was bitterly hot and the bustling street was swarming with people. Xiao Yu was standing casually by the doorway. Lin Yan couldn't say a word, swallowing hard. He rushed over and wrapped him up in a fierce hug.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #dig a grave to dig out a ghost #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #yaoi novel #yaoi #bl novel #danmei novel #danmei

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domesticsns · 4 years

Note

You mentioned sasuke has a lot of enemies, did they ever try to use Naruto to get to sasuke?

(Story time. This happened only once tho.)

It was Saturday and Naruto was playing video games when the door rank. It was daylight and he figured it were just some girl scouts selling cookies. He opened the door and sees this beautiful women and he thought “damn” . Then what he thought was a women, talked and it was clearly a men. But Naruto wasn’t going to assume their gender. So he was avoiding the pronounce.

“Good afternoon, My name is Haku Yuki.” Haku said, tucking his long black hair behind his ear. “I’m sorry, does a Sasuke Uchiha live here. I believe his full name is Sasuke Uchiha-Uzumaki now. I hope I am not at the wrong address.”

“Yes he lives here. He is my husband.” Naruto says.

“What a lucky man he is, you’re pretty handsome...And cute.” Haku says eyeing Naruto who blushed slightly.

“He’s not home. He went grocery shopping, but he will be back. You can come inside if you want?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Haku said kindly and entered the house. He took his shoes off immediately and walked inside.

“So where do you my husband from?” Naruto asks as he indicated to the couch. He expected Haku to probably be family the two had some similarities. Only Haku was soft spoken and a lot kinder.

“We went to highschool together.” Haku says with a smile. Naruto thought he kept a pretty good poker face the moment. He knew damn well that was not a good sign and he cursed his guest friendly nature.

“Do you want something to drink? I will make us some tea and you can tell me all about highschool with Sasuke.” Naruto gets up to go to the kitchen, thinking if he climbed out of the window there he could jump to the rain pipe and climb down. Haku wouldn’t be any wiser. But he was wrong the moment he entered the kitchen and opened the window he felt a gun pressed against his back and a chill voice telling him not to scream. Haku told him to close the window and get back inside. And Naruto had choice. He was put down on a chair as Haku closed the curtains and tied Naruto up.

Haku puts the gun away and sits down adjacent to Naruto.

“Sasuke in high school. He was very talented. I had hard time catching up to him. It really bothered me that he ended up being number one and I was number two. He was good. He could twist the neck of a bunny without thinking twice. I never liked killing. He was a natural though. I think I have some pictures, which are not fabricated...” Haku sasy reaching for his bag.

“Fabricated. I thought Fugaku fabricated the pictures himself.” Naruto said.

“Oh no, the boarding school fabricated a lot of it. They probably send him already fabricated pictures.” Haku grabs a few pictures and show them.

“This is me,” he points at a picture where he was sitting on a wall, holding a knife behind the pictures were like 5 dead bodies. “This is Sasuke...But we called him number 13 back then. I was number 34 and This guy was like 55 or so.” He points at Sasuke in the picture who was not smiling. He wasn’t even looking. The other child seemed to be crying.

Haku grabbed another picture, “This is us during hell week.”

“Hell week?” Naruto asked.

“oh where we survived on only one to three hours of sleep while going through intensive training. It was rough. Especially when they tortured us during to keep our mouths shut.”

“That is terrible!” Naruto says.

“I thought so too,” Haku said.

He hears the door open and close and Haku presses his finger against his lips. Naruto was wondering what was going through Haku’s head.

“SASUKE!” He screamed, there was no way he was not going to warn him...Only down luck....Naruto always screamed Sasuke for insignificant things.

“Yes,yes..I am coming. I swear to god if it is that damn game again...” He entered the living room and sees Haku. Haku waves at him. Sasuke looks at Naruto. Naruto looks at Sasuke.

“Hey Sasuke-” Haku didn’t even have time to finish. It was quickly die or fight and Naruto had to be honest he did not get to see Sasuke fighting someone who was as skilled as he was and seeing to two going at it was like watching an action movie.

Sasuke had Haku pinned down ready to knock him out. Haku grabbed some needles from his sleeve and threw them at Naruto.

Naruto saw Sasuke reach for the knife around his ankle and throw it towards the needles. Redirecting them towards the wall instead. Haku took his chance and use the needles in his other sleeve on Sasuke, but Sasuke kicked over the coffee table and the needles got suck on the wooden surface instead. He kicked the tabled over at Haku before grabbing, what seemed to be a kusanagi taped under that table and slice and hold it right at Haku’s throat. Haku put his hands up, laughing.

“You’ve gotten weaker!”He points out.

“Still capable of kicking your ass!” Sasuke says.

“So it is like riding a bike,” Haku says, getting up. “You’re not going to kill me.”

“Try me.” Sasuke hisses.

“I mean you no harm. You attacked me first.” Haku says.

“You kidnapped my husband!” Sasuke hissed.

“I was preventing him from getting hurt by climbing through the window.” Haku says.

“I was trying to get away like you taught me,” Naruto says.

“You did good babe, not your fault.” Sasuke says not breaking eye contact from Haku.

“I am not here to hurt you or your husband. He way too cute to hurt.” Haku says.

“Thanks....” Naruto says.

“Fine...Tell me the truth...And watch it. I’ll know when you’re lying.” Sasuke says.

“You haven’t changed a bit. You were always better in weapons and combat not to mention you could always lie like no one else.” Haku lowers the sword, making sure not to hurt his fingers. He sat down on the dining table, looking at Naruto.

“We were just chatting about you in highschool, were we not, Naruto dear?” Haku says. Sasuke walks over to his husband, cutting him loose.

“I was just showing him some old pictures, you remember right?” Haku says grabbing the pictures he dropped and handing them to Sasuke. He turns back to Naruto, “We always got along. We had each others back a lot. Not the best strategy when you’re thrown in a cage together with two knives.”

“How did you get these?” Sasuke askes, sitting down himself.

It was like the two did not try to kill each other a few seconds ago.

“There were two classes I was better at than you. One was stealing thing.” Haku says, “I had stole all of these back in those days. These were the little memories I wanted to keep.”

“I never thought I would ever see a picture with Itama in it...” Sasuke says looking at the third boy in the picture. His eyes softened.

“It is too bad he didn’t make it out alive...” Haku sighed and turned his head to Naruto.

“Oh god he is even more handsome up close.” Haku says, “How did a handsome man like you ever marry Sasuke.”

“Don’t answer that,” Sasuke tells Naruto.

“Hey,” Haku’s hand moved over Naruto’s arm. “There was still another class I was better at. I think you’ll will appreciate knowing that I am very good in the art of-”

“Baby, why don’t you make us some tea. Please....” Sasuke says pushing Naruto towards the kitchen.

Haku looks from Naruto to Sasuke and he gave Sasuke a kind smile.

“Always good keeping secrets...Your marriage must be suffering from it.”

“not at all-”

“A little...” Naruto interrupts Sasuke.

“But you didn’t come here to just show me some pictures, did you?” Sasuke says going back to business.

“I heard you are a detective. You could have made so much more money if you just-”

“I don’t have children so I am fine with my income.” Sasuke interrupts Haku again.

“I heard you work with Tobirama now. He was so dreamy back in boarding school. I swear if he had asked me to suck his dick, I would’ve. No question asks.” Haku looked dreamy for a moment.

“He didn’t age well.”

“Really?!” Haku looks as Sasuke see if he was lying or not, but he could not tell.

“I always thought he had a thing for you. Everytime he would look over at us in the cafeteria. It is like he blocked out everyone and just look at you.”

“Yeah I am pretty sure he was looking at Itama, him being his brother and all...”

“Oh you’re ruining my romantic story,” Haku says, “He also looked at you after Itama died.”

“Because...I carried his dead body from the forest to the gates.” Sasuke arched an eyebrow.

“Okay but riddle me this...Why when Danzo tied you up to a moving wheel as punishment. Why did the best knife throwing in the school, miss all five shots? Unless...He was protecting you. Remember, as punishment for missing you were allowed to leave the wheel and he had to stand there instead and get knives thrown at him. Isn’t that how he got the scars on his cheeks. Or how the seniors has to torture the freshman. We had to keep holding on to information and they had to learn how to get it out of us. Wasn’t he the one who had to torture you. What did he do again? There were so many good options like drowning, he could have cut you open, remove finger nails, pull your teeth out, shock you, there were so many options. I was blindfolded and made to believe a truck was going to run over my head if I didn’t give them the codes. Good thing I had forgotten the code myself because I was close to cracking. The one who lost would get two days in solitary, terrible. What did he do to you? You were the only freshman that came out of there unharmed and the only one of the five freshman of Tobirama’s that did not crack. I heard he was horrible. He got two days in the hole for you. Isn’t that romantic and now you two work together after all these years. Wouldn’t that have been so nice if you two ended up together.”

“Haku, if you’re into him...Go for it.” Sasuke says, “I am already married.”

“Right,” Haku looks over his shoulder at Naruto, “So hot. Is he the same boy you fell in love with in middle school and then your father figured it out and send you to Danzo’s school where you got traumatised for four years.”

“Yes.”

“How romantic you two found your way back to each other,” Haku says, “And now your married with children.”

“We don’t have children,” Sasuke says firmly.

“Really....Why, you make a good dad. No...You make an okay-ish dad, but I am sure he makes a good dad.” Haku looks back at Naruto, “A good daddy for real.”

“Haku....What do you want?”

“Right!” Haku says, “Full immunity...And a green card. No...Full citizenship. ”

Sasuke leans back in his chair, folding his legs.

“What ya got for me,” Sasuke says.

#long post #domestic au

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

Text

Insecure

When gaggles of women start flooding his shop on their lunch hours just to gawk at his sexy husband, Aziraphale begins to succumb to the new doubts and fears that come as a result of going native.

Luckily, Crowley has a cure for that. (2260 words)

(AO3)

Aziraphale has noticed a disturbing trend in the customers who come into his shop lately. No longer do they seem to be interested in purchasing one of his many immaculate and prized first editions (thank God), but, instead, they come to gawk at his husband, who spends a great deal of his time draped over a chair in the corner reading. Or pretending to read. He’s mostly there to annoy Aziraphale – make suggestive remarks when the angel bends over, persuade him take long lunches and close up early, rearrange the books by random indicators like whether there’s an animal featured on the cover or not, the author’s hair color, or their perceived sexual orientation. Since Aziraphale can’t afford to waste miracles, that means he has to spend all day reorganizing his shelves.

Or leave them as is, which is Crowley’s aim really.

But the gaggle of teenaged girls who come in before and after school, and the business women who stop by on their lunch hour, annoy him more.

He’s tried to juggle his times of operation to avoid them – open later, close earlier, take off Mondays. But they don’t seem to mind being late to where they’re going just to catch a glimpse of his demon.

And it’s beginning to wear on him.

Crowley doesn’t seem to notice the attention. Aziraphale brought it up to him once over lunch, asking how it felt to be objectified by the female clientele that his presence has been attracting day after day after day (in part because he was irritated and in part because he was genuinely curious), to which Crowley said, “You’ve been getting customers? When was that? Last week?”

Since Aziraphale can usually tell when Crowley is lying, and he wasn’t this time around, that was the end of that discussion.

But this influx of admirers has begun to spotlight certain doubts in Aziraphale’s mind that have been hiding there for some time.

Do they belong together? Are they really a match?

He’s not even talking about the angel/demon dynamic. A lot of people would say that opposites attract and well, you can’t get much more opposite than good and evil.

Then again, they’ve come to discover that Crowley isn’t completely evil, and Aziraphale isn’t necessarily 100% good.

And that’s part of the point.

So many things have changed for Aziraphale lately, ever since he and his demon became husbands. Changes in life, changes in his shop … changes in him. Inadequacies, doubts, fears, no longer simply about himself or his job efficiency as an angel, but about this relationship – a relationship that had been a constant in his existence, one he didn’t have to think too hard on or worry too much about. Perhaps it’s a side-effect of going native, but being married to a sexy demon on a planet that values youth and beauty over wit and intelligence makes him question a lot of things, things he hadn’t thought to question for all the years they’d been friends.

If Aziraphale has begun to notice these things, will Crowley begin to notice them, too?

Will they become important to him?

Crowley is a demon, bound (for the most part) by demonic rules. When one takes into account the seven deadly sins - a page straight out of the demon playbook - technically, they already should be.

The door to the shop opens and a new wave of women walks through. Aziraphale rolls his eyes mentally but confronts them with a smile. He walks straight up to them, effectively blocking their way further than the counter unless they admit to wanting a book, which, at this point, he may just be willing to sell them if it means they leave without the requisite drooling over his husband.

“Good morning! May I help you young ladies?”

The three of them do their best to get around him, but with the only entrance into the belly of the shop being the narrow aisle behind him, it would be impossible to do without shoving him to the side.

Which one lady in a houndstooth jacket and blonde bob looks fully prepared to do.

They try to peek over him but to no avail as the chair his husband lounges on has been moved out of sight of the door. All three women deflate when they realize their trip to this otherwise dull and dusty little shop has all been for naught, and they sigh in unison.

“Uh … no. No, we’re … okay,” one of them says, and they turn and leave the shop, grumbling about the pudgy old troll popping out from under his bridge to ruin their fun.

The door slams shut and Aziraphale sighs, returning to his task of restocking the shelves.

“Now what was all that about?” Crowley asks, coming up behind his angel, having caught the final few seconds of that unfortunate interaction.

“Nothing,” Aziraphale replies, doing his best to try and smile as he tosses books onto shelves, barely paying mind to where they belong.

“Is that so?” Crowley rescues the next book, which had missed the shelf, before it lands on the floor. “The way you’re abusing these poor books, it doesn’t seem like nothing. What has …” He glances at the cover of the one he’s holding before sliding it into its place on the shelf “… Allen Ginsberg ever done to you?”

Aziraphale stops. Full stops. Stops stocking the shelves, stops smiling, stops trying to pretend. In the grand scheme of the universe and God’s ineffable plan, Aziraphale’s problems seem shallow and petty. But they are his problems, and right now, they’re bowing his back, weighing his shoulders down.

“Why did you ask me to marry you, Crowley?” he asks, staring down at his husband’s snakeskin shoes and hugging the remaining three books to his chest.

Crowley smirks since he knows full well his husband can’t see. “Well, it was about flippin’ time, wasn’t it?”

Aziraphale’s head snaps up, his eyes, full of angelic fire, meeting Crowley’s behind his dark glasses. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But Crowley doesn’t fear that fire. He welcomes it.

“It means I’ve loved you forever, Aziraphale. And the second I got my head out of my arse and figured it out, I wanted to make it official.”

Aziraphale nods and goes back to the task of examining his husband’s shoes. Crowley takes the books out of Aziraphale’s hands and places them on the shelf so he can wrap his husband up in his arms.

“Tell me. What’s this really all about, hmm? Does it have anything to do with that wench that called you a troll?”

“Don’t say that. I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice young woman, all things considered,” Aziraphale murmurs, not sounding all that convincing.

“Well, she’s a perfectly nice young woman who just dropped her lunch, missed her bus connection, and now has a huge runner in her stockings, so hopefully that makes your day a little bit better.”

Aziraphale smiles softly into the fabric of his husband’s shirt. “No. But I thank you for the effort.”

“What do you care what these mortals think of you?” Crowley squeezes his husband tight, hoping for a giggle. “You’re an angel! You’re Mr. Holier-than-thou! You perform miracles! You fight for the greater good! You’re not concerned with those things, right?”

“No.” Aziraphale clears his throat and straightens his back in an attempt to pull himself up from his bog of self-pity. “Not at all. At least … I wasn’t. I don’t know. This new life of ours … it’s doing things to me.”

“Well, I should hope so,” Crowley growls.

This time, Aziraphale does giggle. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Look …” Crowley leans back a few inches to look into his angel’s eyes “… you chose your human form, right?”

Aziraphale’s head bobs left to right, giving that some thought. “More or less. There were parameters.”

“And if there was something you didn’t like about it, you could change it?”

“I guess.”

“So, why haven’t you? I’ll tell you why. Because deep down inside, you like yourself just the way you are. You like your face because it’s kind. And you don’t mind the shape of your body because you feel your favorite clothes suit you. You’ve never had a single negative thought about yourself that wasn’t put into your head by someone else. You love yourself. And so do I. Because you’re not your body, Aziraphale. You’re your heart and your soul and your mind. You also happen to be one hell of a, as they say, bad ass.”

“Really?” Aziraphale says with a bitter little hiccup. “And how do you figure that?”

“Aziraphale! You wield a flaming sword! You stood in front of Satan himself, ready to defend the world! Humans who walk into this shop every day should genuflect and worship you.”

“That would fall under the category of false idols, so that’s a no-no.”

“Plus - and this is a huge plus - you’re the only being I know who’s looked Beelzebub in the face and asked for a rubber duck! Do you think there’s anyone else on this measly little planet that even compares to you? Because, to be honest, if there were, that would be terrifying!”

Aziraphale rests his head against his husband’s chest, melting into his words of praise. He’d never considered any of that, which proves how native he’s actually become. Humans, he’s noticed, do the same thing. What do degrees and accolades and charitable works matter so long as you’re aesthetically pleasing to any and all sexes? But he can’t allow his husband to lead him into the sin of pride. He knows Crowley isn’t trying to tempt him. He’s being supportive.

But as a demon, leading Aziraphale astray would fall under the umbrella of an occupational hazard.

“Would it make you feel better if I made a few alterations to my form?” Crowley asks. “Give myself a bit of a pooch? Perhaps a double chin?”

“No! I know how much you like the form you’re in. I know that you’re afraid to lose it. I don’t want you to go changing yourself for me.”

“Now that’s funny, because I feel exactly the same way about you.”

The clock on the wall strikes the hour and Crowley looks up. Through the window, he sees another wave of women heading for the shop, huddled together as if they’re embarking on a secret quest. “Do you really want to stop those women from coming in here all the time?”

“Not that I’m purposefully trying to drive away business …”

“Of course not.”

“… but it would be nice.”

Crowley pinches his angel’s chin and gives him a wink. “I’ll handle it.”

The bell over the door tinkles as it swings open. This time, instead of the shop’s portly proprietor greeting its customers, the tall, slender man they’ve been coming to see – the one who fills out a tight fitting shirt and black jeans like no one else in the world - does, and they’re instantly delighted. Their collective eyes brighten when they see that the object of their lustful gazes has finally risen out of his chair, and is now standing in front of them to see.

“Hello, ladies,” Crowley says to the obnoxious tittering of all, and Aziraphale shakes his head. How this is supposed to keep the birds out of the roost, he had no idea. This will probably make them stop by more.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“We didn’t realize you worked here,” one woman says, her eyes glowing with the possibilities.

“Ah, yes, yes. Alas, I do. Is there anything you ladies need? Something to tickle your literary taste buds?” Crowley meets them glasses to eyes, flashing the most charming smile he can conjure. “Some Shakespeare, a little Whitman … some Wilde, perhaps?”

“Why, yes,” one brave woman dares, taking Crowley in from head to toe, not even being subtle about it when her whole head moves, which makes the smiling brood beside her titter even more. “As a matter of fact, there is.”

“Well, well, well. One second and my husband will help you.”

It takes a moment for those words to hit, but the fallout is precious.

First comes the silence, then the confusion, followed by the disbelief.

“Husband?” Aziraphale hears one of the women say before Crowley grabs him around the waist, pulls him against him, and kisses him hard.

The gasp from their lips is positively delicious. Aziraphale would guffaw if not for his husband’s mouth on his, his serpent tongue slipping between his lips and giving him the most inappropriate things to think about in public. By the time Crowley lets his husband come up for air, the women are gone – vanished as if in a puff of smoke since Aziraphale never heard the bells over the door ring to announce their departure.

Of course, that could be because of the thoughts his husband had been projecting into his mind using a soupçon of his demonic power.

His sexy serpent has one vivid imagination.

“So, that’s the solution you came up with?” Aziraphale fixes his vest, tugging at the hem, pretending to act scandalized by the whole process even though the smile he can’t suppress begs to differ.

“Yup. I’d say it worked a treat, too. Besides, the best part about it is …” He slaps his husband playfully on the ass before he finishes “… we get to do that again for every lot that comes in.”

#Good Omens #Good Omens Fanfic #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #Frankie writes

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frauleinsmaria · 5 years

Text

Signed, Sealed, Delivered {1/1}

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

Rated T, includes references to sexual misconduct.

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

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

Also on AO3

-/-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning, lass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have a nice day, Miss Swan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no. “Did I really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Killian?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t argue with that.”

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

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

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

“Touche.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How long have you been driving?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But?”

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

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

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

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

“What happened then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning, Swan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, love?”

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

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

“I’m one of a kind, I guess.”

“That you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A valid point.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Had she gone and turned into Mary Margaret?)

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

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

“Sure. What is it?”

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

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

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

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

“So you remember him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. Is that all today?”

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

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

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

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

“Sometimes one conversation might be all it takes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds great. I look forward to it.”

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

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

“You’re right on time.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my gosh. Killian, I’m so-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, good. Friendship officially saved.”

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

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

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

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

“Because of Hugh Grant?” he teased.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But cycles could be broken.

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

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

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

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

And she couldn’t wait to tell Killian.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that is?”

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

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

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

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darthlorddiamond · 4 years

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Broken Doll

This is the fourth episode of the Black Diamond story, if you want to read the previous episode or follow the next ones you can check my Masterlist.

Summary: Once in Depatar, Liam was trying to get the best deal to sell to Mitsu when an unexpected buyer closes the sale, giving her a new chance.

Words: 2,866

Reading time: 12 min

Category: Bio, Angst

Warnings: Human traffick

__________________

Broken Doll

A short time after I boarded the ship of the scavengers, we´re almost ready to land in Depatar, where, I had understood by the talk of the crew before being locked in Liam's quarters, is the most important of the black markets in the Cularin system.

Shortly before arriving, Liam returned to the room, carrying with him some rags and cleaning products "I can't get a good deal if you look like this" and he throws the things he was carrying in the sofa and turned to see me with a stupid smile on his face "As much as I like the way your little face looks covered in my cum, you have to clean up and make yourself presentable so the clients can see you pleasantly" turning his back towards his desk, he took the chair and sat down while lighting another cigarette "What are you waiting for? Change!" apparently I would have to undress in front of him again, a fact that made me not like it in the least and made me feel unpleasant again, but I had no other choice but to do it, so I started to take off, one by one, each of my heavy clothes, designed to withstand the cold of Hoth, every one of it fall to the floor, leaving my body completely naked.

Liam was still sitting in his chair smoking, once again running my whole body with his eyes, despite what had happened, I felt very embarrassed, so I turned my back on him, and I went to take one of the garments that were on the sofa when he spoke "No, no, no little diamond, first you have to get clean until the last corner of your skin" I couldn't feel more ashamed, I took one of the rags that were on the sofa, wet it with the liquid that was in one of the bottles that he had brought and I started to rub it all over my body "I really wouldn't like to sell you, but if you stay on this ship, you probably won't go out never from this room and that will not make Grunt very happy” I turned to see him, I was very angry with him, but also with myself and thinking that I could stay locked in this place with him forever just made my stomach turn, he just smiled at me, and continued smoking.

Once I finished cleaning myself, I took the clothes he had left for me, I didn´t understand why these scavengers would have women's clothing on board, probably from one of the many lootings they had committed. The tunic he choose for me, was black and somewhat long, made of a slightly more porous fabric, I was very grateful that it reached below my knees, because I didn´t have underwear anymore, and what I least wanted at that time was that more people saw my full body in the market.

Once I finished dressing, Liam stood up from his chair and approached me, brought one of his hands to my face, gently held my chin and lifted my face while his gaze fell on me "Now we have to do something with your face and your hair. Sit in the chair” I wasn't very happy with the situation, but I still nodded. I approached the desk and sat down, Liam stood behind me and started brushing my hair and anointing it with oils whose scent perfumed the whole room, once he has finished grooming it, he braided the sides and joined them in the back "You have beautiful white hair" leaned in slightly to smell it, closing his eyes "I have to point all your features as much as possible, that way customers will find you attractive" passing by my side, he opened one of the desk drawers and took out a small wooden box.

Recharging his hip on the edge of the desk, he opened the box and start to take out jewelry, which he placed on my ears and neck, inspecting what was the best option to compliment my outfit "I´m curious that, even when you look human, your ears have a pointed shape..." brought one of his hands to my neck and stroked it gently "Without a doubt, you´re a very particular specimen" and without saying anything else, he selected from the box some long rings that delicately placed in each of my ears and bracelets for each of my hands "You aborded this ship like a diamond in the rough and you will leave here being a finest one" turning his back to me, he opened another drawer and took out some cosmetics "You´re a very pale girl..." he fixed his eyes on my face, lengthening his gaze "I have to put on you a little color or you´re going to look like you're sick..." for a moment I could swear he was looking at me tenderly "Nobody wants to buy a sick girl, they will think that you´re useless” my idea that there was someone friendly behind him completely disappeared, and he started to place a little color on my cheeks and lips; even when his hands were touching me with great delicacy, I couldn´t stop thinking that this man was the same brut that last night had raped me “Done! You're perfect!" his gaze extended for a few more seconds than normal on my face again, and shaking his head he walked towards the door without turning to see me "Prepared to disembark little Diamond, we have a very long day ahead".

Once on the streets of the Depatar´s black market, Liam walked beside me, arm in arm, giving me zero opportunities to stray from his side, until we reached a stall in front of an open door. It has a wooden table with various droid spare parts and a series of heavy fabrics covered it from the sun.

"Well, well, what are you bringing me today, Liam?" commented a somewhat old man looking at me, "I thought you were only interested in the spare parts market”, the man was missing an eye and it was obvious that he had spent years marketing prohibited products "Do you know the problem that you can put on me with a girl in my stand?" slowly he approached to Liam, who just snapped his mouth "Please Kam, don't lie, since I knew you, you have smuggled X category products" the other man just shrugged and pulling Liam by the neck whispered something in his ear that I wasn´t able to hear.

A few minutes passed while the scavengers put their loot inside the door of Kam's stall. Liam was always close to my side, all the movement made me feel a little anxious and I kept rubbing my hands, an act that Liam noticed "Don't worry, I won't leave you alone with him" he lit two cigarettes and handed me one, turning to look askance to me "You are my little Diamond..." I took the cigarette Liam gave me and started smoking without looking at him "I will not let your price drop easily only for sale you quickly" I tried to ignore the last comment.

While Liam gave some instructions to his men, I take a look around me, there weren't many options where to fly, aside from the possibility that the other tenants knew Kam quite well and, it was certain that, if I try to run, one them would grab me and bring me back. My only way to leave was to wait once the buyer of the Hutt Clan arrived and hope that he´s stupid enough to give me an escape window.

"What are you thinking about little Diamond?" Liam took me by surprise while holding my face, I directed my gaze to his eyes "You're not thinking of doing something stupid, right dove?" I shook my face, Liam caressed my cheek with his thumb, lightly tracing my wound “What a good little Diamond!" Liam suddenly leaned towards me and kissed my lips "Because it would be a shame to hurt this beautiful face again” even when his kiss was only a caress, it felt extremely threatening, so I took my gaze from his and out of the corner of my eye I could see how a tall man walked between the stalls near us. The man must have seen the scene that passed between me and Liam because he was walking towards us showing a false interest in some of the items in Kam's stall.

"Good sir, good morning! What interests you? Kam's parts will have what you are looking for!" the strange man, with a huge and false smile, played with some droid parts without seen Kam "I don't think your shop has what I'm looking for, scavenger" replied the man with a snap, looking around with disinterest "Of course I have what you are looking for! Just say it!" the voice of Kam was somewhat annoyed by the man's disdain "If you say so..." the man stopped playing with the pieces of the stall and advanced a little towards where Liam and I were "You will see, I´m looking for fine products of X category..." and slightly smiling he turned his gaze towards me "Not to mention sir..." whispered Kam, holding the man by the sleeve of his robe "The girl is reserved for the Hutt Clan..." Kam raised his gaze slightly to the man, while he just turned to look at him askance "The decadent Hutt Clan is more interested in spending their money on weapons than on little girls, instead I..." the man turned to see Liam with a huge smile "I can pay quite well, but if you are not interested..." he turned around and started walking away, Liam without thinking twice ran to him and grabbed his arm "Good sir, I think we can make a deal" the man looked at Liam over his shoulder and turned around "I see someone here knows how to do business".

We entered Kam's house through the door that was behind the stall and, indicating with a wave of his hand, Liam ordered me to sit in one of the chairs of the small table of the instance while offering the other of the chairs to the other man.

For a brief moment, neither spoke, I was quite nervous about not knowing what was about to happen, so I continued rubbing my hands while my stomach began to growl. Once the three of us sat on the table, Liam lit another cigarette and registered the man with his eyes, the man just stared at me, making me feel ashamed, so I looked down and Liam took advantage of my action to break the silence "The price is 25,000 credits" the man just laughed and turned to look at him "25,000 credits for a girl with a scarred face?" and his laughter grew louder "It will be a somewhat a broken doll..." Liam reached out to grab my chin and lifted my face, fixing his gaze on me momentarily as he licked his lips "But it´s quite useful..." Liam turned to see the man with malice and a grotesque smile on his face, telling him with his eyes perfectly what he meant. The face of the man changed immediately into a rictus more stoic "I give you 15,000 credits, take it or leave it" Liam turned to see me with anger "15,000 credits!" Liam shouted getting up from the table and crashing his palms on it "You're crazy! You're wasting my time!" the man looked at Liam and without breaking the look of his face, he spat to him "It will be the best deal you can get".

A few silent minutes pass. Liam walked around the room like a locked animal, while the man didn´t take his eyes off me, for a moment he intimidated, so I chose to see another way, I needed that Liam close the deal, I needed to get out of there, I didn't want to spend another moment with him "15,000 credits..." Liam muttered under his breath "Republic Credits Chip or Coins?" interrupting his endless path Liam stood in front of the man "Coins, I don´t think the Republic Credits will be of much use to you out there" replied the man while clasping his hands on the table "It´s a deal!" and with those words, the man stood up from the table, put aside his robes and took out a sachel that he threw to the table scattering all the golden coins, coins that still had the symbol of the Empire on it.

Liam leaned over to the table, completely forgetting about me, I was disgusted to see how he pounced on money. The man circled him, approaching me, he moved closer to my ear, holding my arm and whispering "It's time for us to go".

We left the store by the back door and walked away from the black market. All the way neither of us said something, however, from time to time I could see how he looked at me. I'm not going to lie, immediately as we left Liam behind, I was able to breathe freely again and felt my body break from a burden. We entered into the streets of Depatar´s downtown and the man stopped at a stall to buy something. That was my time to run away, but before doing anything, the man returned to where I was and extended his hand towards me with a small box with food inside "I´m sure that you have been days without eating..." I took the box "I know perfectly well that the scavengers aren´t the best hostess” a small smile was drawn on his face and for some strange reason, his kindness made me feel like a child again and, although I didn't want to let my guard down, my intuition told me that I could trust him, this feeling was also because, since we left Kam's store, the man didn´t place his hands on me at any time "Let's find a comfortable place where we can sit down to eat, is that fine?" looking askance at me I could see how his smile was still there; I felt my cheeks flush so I looked away from him and nodded my head.

We arrive at a small space within the city with benches scattered in the shade and we take a seat. None of us spoke while we were eating, I hadn't realized how hungry I was “You know, not a long time ago, a neighboring village of my clan suffered an attack and two young boys of your age refugee among us..." the man fixed his gaze on the ground "I cannot imagine the terror that they must have experienced while fleeing from their persecutors..." then, he made a long silence while turning to see me "However, I cannot, nor do I want to think about the horrors that you would have lived at the hands of these scavengers..." I didn´t notice, but the tears had already formed in my eyes; Suddenly the man placed his hand on mine and held it tightly while still looking at me "That was why, when I saw you with them, I decided to buy you..." he took a deep breath that resonated in his chest "You have nothing to worry about, you will be safe among the members of the Scyre Clan" when I turned to see him, a huge smile crossed his entire face.

He was around his thirties, someone could tell that, in his youth, he had been a warrior because I could see some old wounds in his arms and neck "My name is Egil. What's yours?" he never took his eyes off my face or his hands from mine "I know you can speak, don't be afraid, I assure you that nothing bad will happen to you". My name? My name... For a moment in my mind crossed the memory of Tato shouting me to enter the hut for the meal, however, Mitsu had died more than a year ago in the forest of Hoth "Diamond" I whispered and the man released a slight laugh accompanied by that big smile "Very well Diamond, I´m pretty sure that Phasma and Keldo will be happy to have you at home".

What did he just say? Home? Me? The monster that put into an eternal dream the last tribe of Hoth, the beast that hid among junk to fly away and let that a nasty scavenger use her body just to get out? Did I really have a chance to return, to have a home?

Rising from our place, Egil extended me a hand "I think it's time to return" and without hesitation, I took it. For the first time in months, my heart was beating with hope, I could feel my tears running down my cheeks, but this time they were because of happiness and a smile was painted on my face after months. I felt it again, I felt that, for some reason, there was light at the end of my dark path.

Note: I would like to especially thank @kyloren-theprince, @thetorturerwrites & @kylorengarbagedump who took time to read this first part of my saga and sent me observations with all the patience in the world.

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newstfionline · 4 years

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Headlines

Americans hit hard by layoffs worry about homelessness (Yahoo Money) With unemployment claims at historic highs as the pandemic grounds the economy to a halt, many Americans are struggling with diminished savings, unpaid bills, and worries over homelessness, according to a new study from Varo Money shared exclusively with Yahoo Money. One in 4 renters who lost a job or income due to the COVID-19 outbreak worry they could become homeless, while 1 in 7 homeowners with a mortgage said the same, the survey of 1,234 lower and middle-class Americans earning up to $75,000 found. Among the renters who have lost their income, 2 in 5 expect to make their rent for a maximum of three to four weeks and 1 in 4 expect to be able to afford their rent for one to two months. “Many of these people actually fear if they will be able to cover the rent, and homelessness is becoming a real issue,” Varo Money’s CEO Colin Walsh told Yahoo Money. “We’re talking about people that do not have emergency savings, they really don’t have any backstop.”

Reopening Has Begun. No One Is Sure What Happens Next. (NYT) Politicians and public health experts have sparred for weeks over when, and under what circumstances, to allow businesses to reopen and Americans to emerge from their homes. But another question could prove just as thorny—how? It isn’t clear what, exactly, it means to gradually restart a system with as many interlocking pieces as the U.S. economy. How can one factory reopen when its suppliers remain shuttered? How can parents return to work when schools are still closed? How can older people return when there is still no effective treatment or vaccine? What is the government’s role in helping private businesses that may initially need to operate at a fraction of their normal capacity? “We live in an economy where there are lots of interconnections between different sectors,” said Joseph S. Vavra, an economist at the University of Chicago. “Saying you want to reopen gradually is more easily said than done.”

Advertising adjusts for a new reality: Sweatpants for staying home and toilet paper that cares (Washington Post) “Just stay home” seems like an unusual sell from a hotel-booking service, but these are unusual times. Companies large and small are figuring out how to make ads that don’t seem insensitive or as if they’re from a different time, when people took beach vacations, ate in restaurants and wore shoes. On television, brands are switching to reassuring platitudes, telling viewers, “We’re in this together,” or in the touching words of one toilet paper company, “Together, we’ll keep America rolling.” On social media sites like Instagram, more advertisements are targeting those shut in, with extremely to-the-point messages shilling sweatpants, wine and food delivery, DIY hair dye kits, and home-office gadgets.

Foreign Students Stranded by Coronavirus (NYT) When universities abruptly shut down last month because of the coronavirus pandemic, many students returned to their parents’ homes, distraught over having to give up their social lives and vital on-campus networking opportunities. Graduating seniors lost the chance to cross anything but a virtual commencement stage. But the campus closures have created much greater calamity in the lives of the more than a million international students who left their home countries to study in the United States. Many had been living in college dorms and were left to try to find new housing, far from home in a country under lockdown. A substantial number of international students are also watching their financial lives fall apart: Visa restrictions prevent them from working off campuses, which are now closed. And while some come from families wealthy enough to pay for their housing or whisk them home, many others had already been struggling to cobble together tuition fees that tend to be much higher than those paid by Americans. As their bank accounts dwindle, some international students say they have had to turn to food banks for help. Others are couch surfing in the family homes of their friends but don’t know how long they will be welcome.

Skip college this fall? (Miami Herald) With time growing short and the future uncertain, many high school students are considering skipping college in the fall. The coronavirus pandemic has left many universities uncertain whether they’ll be able to welcome students to campus after summer, and many students don’t want to pay for top-flight universities if they can’t get the full in-person experience. Some say they may skip a year. Some may opt for cheaper alternatives like community colleges. Either way, the coronavirus could leave its mark on higher education long after the pandemic fades.

US senator Lindsey Graham believes Kim Jong Un ‘dead or incapacitated’ (The Independent) US senator Lindsey Graham said he believes North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un is “dead or incapacitated” following unconfirmed reports of his demise. Rumours of Kim Jong Un’s death have swirled since he missed the commemoration of the 108th birthday of his grandfather, North Korea founder Kim Il Sung, ten days ago. North Korean authorities have said nothing to counter media reports that Mr Kim is unwell, prompting concerns about who is next in line to run a nuclear-armed country that has been ruled by the same family for seven decades. South Korean and US officials have repeatedly indicated that there have been no unusual signs that could indicate health problems for Kim. A US official told Reuters the latest rumors about Kim’s health had not changed the US assessment of the information as “speculation.”

A pandemic of corruption mars the coronavirus response (Washington Post) When officials in his home state began giving food boxes to families hit by Colombia’s coronavirus lockdown, lawmaker Ricardo Quintero was struck by the exorbitant prices being paid to the vendors. So he armed himself with pictures of the coffee, pasta and other goods and went down to his local grocery store. There, he bought the same products for roughly half the supposedly bulk-rate prices being paid by the government of Cesar state. The comparison shopping prompted one of what is now 14 coronavirus-related criminal probes in Colombia. The South American country is one of many around the world now seeing a surge in corruption allegations. Countries large and small are shelling out trillions of dollars to combat both the coronavirus outbreak and its brutal economic fallout in what analysts are calling the largest financial response ever to a single global crisis. As governments race to source everything from food aid to face masks, they are prioritizing speed over transparency, dropping competitive bidding and other safeguards to keep pace with the pandemic. Most have no choice. Given the speed of the still unfolding crisis, it’s either buy quickly or put millions at risk. But concern is rising about the percentage of the taxpayer dollars—and euros and yen and pesos and more—lining the pockets of corrupt bureaucrats, crony contractors and crime syndicates.

UK PM Boris Johnson returns to face growing virus divisions (AP) British Prime Minister Boris Johnson is returning to work after recovering from a coronavirus infection that put him in intensive care, with his government facing growing criticism over the deaths and disruption the virus has caused. Johnson’s office said he would be back at his desk in 10 Downing St. on Monday, two weeks after he was released from a London hospital. Foreign Secretary Dominic Raab, who has been standing in for the prime minister, said Sunday that Johnson was “raring to go.” Britain has recorded more than 20,000 deaths among people hospitalized with COVID-19, the fifth country in the world to reach that total. Thousands more are thought to have died in nursing homes.

Kids in Spain relish outdoor hour as virus lockdowns ease (AP) Shrieks of joy rang out Sunday in the streets of Spain as children were allowed to leave their homes for the first time in six weeks, while people in Italy and France were eager to hear their leaders’ plans for easing some of the world’s strictest coronavirus lockdowns. The sound of children shouting and the rattle of bikes on the pavement after the 44-day seclusion of Spain’s youngest citizens offered a first taste of a gradual return to normal life in the country that has the second-highest number of confirmed infections behind the United States. “This is wonderful! I can’t believe it has been six weeks,” Susana Sabaté, a mother of 3-year-old twin boys, said in Barcelona. “My boys are very active. Today when they saw the front door and we gave them their scooters, they were thrilled.”

Japan challenged in working from home amid pandemic (AP) When the Japanese government declared an emergency to curb the spread of the coronavirus earlier this month and asked people to work from home, crowds rushed to electronics stores. So much for social distancing. Many Japanese lack the basic tools needed to work from home. Contrary to the ultramodern image of Japan Inc. with its robots, design finesse and gadgetry galore, in many respects the country is technologically challenged. But the bigger obstacle is Japanese corporate culture, experts say. Offices still often rely on faxes instead of email. Many homes lack high-speed internet connections, and documents often must be stamped in-person with carved seals called “hanko,” which serve as signatures. So many Japanese really cannot work remotely, at least not all the time. A survey by YouGov, a British market researcher, found only 18% of those recently surveyed were able to avoid commuting to school or work, even though a relatively high 80% of people in Japan are afraid of catching the virus.

Netanyahu ‘confident’ US will support West Bank annexation (AP) Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu says he is “confident” he will be able to annex large parts of the occupied West Bank this summer, with support from the U.S. Netanyahu says President Donald Trump’s Mideast plan envisions turning over Israel’s dozens of settlements, as well as the strategic Jordan Valley, to Israeli control.

#headlines #news

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gauntie-o-dimm · 5 years

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Dettlaff | Sweeter

Prompt: "I want to try something new"

Alongside the following request:

"Dettlaff loves you madly, deeply, unconditionally, but demonstrates his animalistic nature in your intimate affairs. You feel uncomfortable and sore, so you decide to teach him more human ways of pleasing and receiving pleasure."

Word count: 3300+ Warnings: Smut, swearing, angst

His body was hot on bent over me, hovering like a huge tower of muscle. His chest hit my back as he leaned over, sharp fangs grazing against my shoulder blades. I shuddered as the skin broke, his tongue slithering over my skin to catch any drop of blood that escaped the fresh cuts. He groaned, grunted, made noises that no one could describe. Droplets of sweat dripped onto my skin, scorching hot and oh-so-able to make me shiver. I let out a small moan as he reached around my body, hips pressing flush against my ass as he pressed himself into me, growled, and... Came. Dettlaff nearly collapsed on top of me, head falling against my back. I heard him try to catch his breath, his length slipping from my depths and soon replacing it with his fingers. He tugged - firmly - and I let out a pained sound. I saw his brow knit as he gazed inside of my cunt, pushing it any sperm dribbling down my legs. 'Yeah, all in there... Clench those thighs together, (Y/n). I don't want any to slip out of you.' He didn't even notice the slight clench of my walls around his fingers, indicating that I was about to orgasm. He pulled his fingers out of me, wiping them dry on the blanket. He leaned down to kiss me relentlessly, teeth and tongue ravishing my mouth without allowing me to breathe. As soon as I tasted iron in the kiss, I pulled back, exhausted and alas, far from satisfied. 'I love you, (Y/n)... You're my mate for life, and if someone comes to get you, they will pay with their death.'

I didn't respond, instead choosing to rest my head against the pillow - there was no point in trying to cuddle. Dettlaff smiled a little, leaning down to kiss me again. 'Your obedience speaks volumes, my dear.' He arose, finding his clothes and putting them on. 'I will be back tonight.' he spoke, draping a blanket on top of me. After he left, I let out a sorrowful whimper. Of course, I loved the Vampire so much... But there was no love in his way of fucking - just instinct, as if he was completely taken over by his beastly desires. It took a good ten minutes to get up, wash myself and get dressed. With a slight limp in my step, I went to the market. The weather was nice today in Beauclair. Enjoying the sun, I purchased some fresh fruits, candies and bread. As I stood at a market stand that was selling fabrics - one of my dresses was becoming a little worn down - I heard a familiar voice behind me. 'What a lovely colour would that be on you, (Y/n).' I looked over my shoulder and smiled at the sight of my lover's closest friend. 'Hello Regis. Thank you, then I think I will get a piece of it.' I paid the merchant and stuffed the roll of fabric into my basket, which was getting pretty full. 'How are you doing?' I asked the Higher Vampire, who was rubbing his chin rather thoughtfully. 'Just enjoying the sun - what an odd thing to say as a Vampire, hm?' I lightly laughed at the mention of this myth. 'And what about you, Mrs van der Eretein?' I blushed at the nickname and let out a small chuckle - Regis often teased me with the knowledge of my hopes that Dettlaff would ask me to marry him soon. 'I am doing wonderful, thank you.' We walked down a bunch of stairs so we were looking out over the water. I offered Regis an apple, which he took with a thankful grin. 'Why are you lying to me, (Y/n)? I can see the sadness in your eyes?' I let out a sigh. 'Would you understand, Regis?' 'Well, I cannot answer that unless you tell me what is going on.'

The crimson hue that spread over my cheeks had me hide my face in my hands. 'Ugh, it's embarrassing.' 'How can you tell?' 'Because it's to do...' I lowered the volume of my voice. 'It's to do with sex.' Regis hummed and looked at me with an expecting nod, telling me to continue on.

'I really love Dettlaff, you know... But whenever we make love, there is not much... Well, love. He's so... Rough, in a bad way. I rarely orgasm.' By the way Regis was smiling, I was sure that my face must've been as red as the apple I was holding. To hide my blush, I took a bite and looked away. 'You know that Dettlaff loves you too, right?' I nodded, looking down at the water. 'I know.' 'The way Vampires love is way different than the way humans love, (Y/n). Dettlaff is a very emotional being. He is intense, extreme when it comes to expressing himself.' I was silent for a bit, looking over at the older Vampire. 'I know.' 'Then I am sure you also know that he will listen if you tell him you want him to be more gentle. Less bestial, if you catch my meaning.' After a few seconds, I gave him a small hum. 'I can always try. He will be back tonight, and I have no idea what he is up to right now.' 'I think he's at his toy shop.' Regis mused, tossing the eaten apple core into the lake. 'Plenty time of you to prepare. Make it a little romantic in your room and I am sure he will be up for it.' Regis put a hand on my shoulder, gently squeezing it. 'Thank you.' I whispered. 'That's what friends are for.'

~ That evening, I sat in the bedroom, wearing a robe. I had put a freshly washed duvet on it, had taken a bath and was wearing some light perfume. I was just lightning a few candles as I felt a door open and close behind me. 'What are you doing?' I heard a deep voice. 'Just... Dettlaff, please come sit with me.' I sat down on the bed and patted the blanket. Hesitantly, he obeyed. I fingered a few buttons on his frock coat and he saw it as a sign to take it off. I sighed as he draped it onto the ground, looking at me with that same confused face. 'I... I want to try something new.' I whispered, letting my hand slide around his waist to pull him a little closer. 'What do you mean?' 'I mean...' I paused, looking for the right words. 'I mean that I want you to make love to me the human way.'

He frowned, still unsure of what I meant by that. But before he could open his mouth to respond, I let myself sit down on his lap, straddling him. 'I want you to gently take me, kiss me everywhere, whisper sweet things in my ear... I want you to make me cum so hard that I can't walk tomorrow... I want...' I felt a tent press against my butt and I knew it was turning him on. 'I want you to make me feel good, and I will do the same to you.' Dettlaff lowly hummed and leaned upwards for a kiss, but I stopped him by pressing my fingers to his mouth. 'Sssh...' I reached for the belt around my robe, untying it. I let it fall off my shoulders, revealing that I was wearing nothing underneath. He gasped a little, tilting his head slightly to take in my body. Again, I pressed my index- and middle finger to his mouth, tugging at his bottom lip. He opened his mouth and I let his saliva make my digits become wet. I pulled them back, sliding my damp hand over my abdomen and between my legs. 'Hmm... Do you want to have a taste, darling?' I purred, starting to play with myself. He had to obviously withhold himself from grabbing me and taking me in the way he usually did. Teasingly, I ground myself against his clothed member, which was stiff against his pants.

'If you... Hm... If you want me to fuck you gently, you shouldn't tease me like that.' I pouted at Dettlaff's remark, pretending to be hurt. 'Can't you just let me have some fun, too?' He leaned back, hands resting on the bed. 'If that's what you want, (Y/n).' 'No, you don't understand...' I whispered with a patient sigh. 'Here, take some clothes off.' I helped him strip down until he was fully naked, and I gently pushed him on the bed. I knelt down between his legs, looking up at him with half-closed eyes. 'What...' he let out a low hum as I took a hold of his erection, pressing a kiss to the side of it. 'What are you doing?' 'Just try to enjoy it, OK?' I said. I had never sucked him off before, but his cock smelt amazing... 'Is this some kind of sorcery?' he breathed, swallowing a moan as I softly took the head in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it. 'Are you trying to eat my genitals?' I had to withhold a laugh. 'No, Dettlaff...' I said, licking the base and taking him in whole again. He grunted, lifting his hips slightly off the bed. 'Fuck, that feels good...' I pulled back for air, jerking him off a few times. 'It's called a blowjob.' I said. 'Oral sex. You can try oral sex on me, too...' 'Do you want me to?' I nodded and smiled softly. 'OK.' he said, lacing his fingers through my hair. 'Oh, you look so beautiful...' I pulled back the foreskin, softly sucking on his shaft. 'Ah, fuck!' I let out a small giggle, leaning down my head to suck on his testicles. Dettlaff tensed. 'Holy shit. Stop, I don't want to cum yet...'

I crawled on top of him, kissing him firmly. His hands wrapped around my waist, holding me close. After a moment, he pulled back for air. 'I want to give you a blowjob as well...' I burst out laughing. 'Oh, Dettlaff... That's not called a blowjob when performed on women, it's called eating out. I want you to eat my pussy.' 'Eating a pussy? That's a little sad, such a small kitty...' 'No, Dettlaff...' I felt like I was high from the amount of butterflies he gave me right now. 'That's a term for cunt... Vagina... You really didn't know that?' 'No...' he was sincere as he looked at me. 'Oh...' he blushed all of a sudden.

'So when I asked you what you had been doing the other day and you said "touching my pussy" with such a grin, you actually didn't mean you had seen a cat on the street and pet it?'

Dettlaff looked at me with such innocent confusion that I toppled over on top of him, cackling loudly. 'That's not what I meant indeed.' He wrapped his arms around me, hugging me. 'I was already wondering why you was already smirking like that.' I looked up at him, resting my chin against his chest. 'So you gonna eat my cunt or what?' 'I am curious to have a taste.'

I got out of his arms, laying on my back on the bed. I beckoned him to come closer, spreading my legs. 'What... What do you want me to do?' He leaned over me, kissing me on the lips for a moment. 'I want to make you feel good as well.' 'You can suck on my nipples first.' I boldly said. 'But.. Ain't that for feeding children? Won't you better be keeping that until I give you a child?' 'I don't produce any breast milk right now. Only during and after pregnancy.' Dettlaff rubbed his chin, looking down at my breasts. 'It's pleasurable, also for men.' 'Really?' I leaned a little forward, pressing a kiss on one of his nipples. The Higher Vampire let out a sigh. 'That indeed feels nice.' 'Then please...' Without wasting another second, he sucked down on one of my breasts, taking it into his mouth. The other, he grabbed firmly, massaging it with his palm. A moan left my lips, my back arching into him so the mound of flesh was fulling filling his mouth. 'They taste really nice...' Dettlaff muttered after pulling back, grazing his tongue against the perky nub. 'I should do that more often.' I rubbed my drenched core against his bare leg in order to tease him a little. 'The best is still to come, darling...' He moved down to sit between my legs, kissing my abdomen a few times. He knew the scent of my excitement, but he had never tasted it before. I spread my legs, using my own hands to push apart my folds. 'See that? When it's wet like it is now, it means my body is ready for intercourse.' 'Intercourse... Such an odd word.' 'Well, mating is often used for animals, wanting to get offspring. But intercourse, or making love as it is sometimes called, it's just for pleasuring each other to make them feel how much you love them.' 'So not always with the means of getting a child?' I hummed in response and stroked with my finger across my labia. 'See this tiny button over here?' Dettlaff gave a small nod. 'It's called a clitoris. It's an intensely sensitive spot on a woman's pussy. I often rub it to make myself orgasm, but I would much prefer it if you'd suck and lick it.' Dettlaff nodded thoughtfully, inspecting it with great interest. 'So you just want me to...' he leaned in, his hot breath hitting the soaked lips. 'Hmmm, yeah.' I said with a lewd sigh. The anticipation that seared through my core was almost killing me.

A loud moan came from me as he licked down, inexperienced and exploring. He wasn't sure of the movement of his tongue, but as soon as he saw me wriggle and moan under the heat he pressed against me, he became more certain of his actions. The taste of it had caused something to grow in his eyes, something I had never seen before. He sucked my clit, letting out a chuckle when I squealed in pleasure. 'Oh, Dettlaff, fuck...' I grabbed my own breasts and pressed them together, making sure that he'd see it. He sucked down a little harsher at the sight, clearly turned on by it. My toes curled as his tongue slithered into my depths, curling as my walls clenched around it. 'You taste so well, (Y/n)...' he grunted against me, sending vibrations through my spine. 'What was it called again?' 'E-Eating... Oh... Eating out-t-ooh, right there!' His tongue lapped across my soaked folds, large fingers parting them so he could suck on them both. 'I want to eat you out every day, then.' I smiled at the thought of that. 'Seeing you like this makes me want to do very rough things to you.' he said, nuzzling my core. I closed my eyes, arching my back. I didn't want to orgasm just yet, wanting it to come to a conclusion otherwise.

'Then let me show you something.' I mewled, wanting him to pull back since fuck was I close. 'Come over here...' He crawled on top of me, kissing me. For the first time I tasted my own essence on his lips, around his mouth as his tongue dove into me. I smiled, my hand going down to find his erection. He grunted as I took a hold of it, guiding it upwards to press it against my core. I wrapped my legs around his hips, hoping he would roll them forward. Dettlaff took notice of what I was trying to do, pressing himself into my vagina with not much difficulty. We both let out a sigh of satisfaction, the Higher Vampire frowning a bit. His arms wrapped around me, tensing as if he wanted to lift me up. 'What are you doing?' 'Trying to turn you around?' he looked at me as if it was the most normal thing and my question was plain stupid. I didn't blame him, he didn't know it any other way.' 'Oh, Dettlaff, no, I want to look you in the eye when you fuck me.' 'That's a thing when mating?' 'You will like it, I am sure.' I started to move against him, his thrusts soon meeting mine. I bit on my lip, maintaining eye-contact with him while he gradually started to increase his speed. He smiled a little as he saw my face twist in pleasure, my lips slightly parting as I let out a wanton sound. 'You like that, hm?' he said with a loving smile. I nodded. 'I love to see you like this.' he confessed, grunting as he slammed himself back into me. 'Shit, I love this, really...' he muttered, 'Being able to see your face like this... I've never known it could make me feel this way during mat- I mean, intercourse.' I smiled at him, tangling my fingers in his dark locks. 'Kiss me.' I urged, wanting to have him deeper inside me in more ways than one. His body was sticky against me, his skin scorching me but it was nothing but pleasurable. He deeply kissed me, rolled his tongue into me again and breathed heavily through me. For the first time, there was something else than instinct and vampiric behaviour in his thrusts. I wanted him to release into me so badly, so I pulled him tighter into me, his testicles slapping against me every time he pressed forward. 'Are you going to cum, baby?' I coaxed him, letting out a breathy moan that sounded very naughty. 'Are you going to fill me up?' 'What nonsense are you sputtering, (Y/n)?' Dettlaff said confusedly. 'Just wanting to talk dirty to you...' He was silent for a second, then showed me a toothy grin. 'In that case... Keep on going.' 'Are you going to make me your cum-slut, Dettlaff?' He raised an eyebrow. 'Darling, don't call yourself a slut. I know you aren't one.' 'Then try this.' I said, softly pushing him off me. I pushed him back onto the bed, straddling his hips and I let myself sink down onto him. 'Hmmm, yeah, I'm going to ride you, alright?' He grabbed my waist but I moved his hands down to my butt. 'I want you to fill me with your seed, Dettlaff...' I whispered while starting to ride him with a speed that was desperate, awaiting sweet release. 'I want it to stay in there, too... Make sure it stays in there...' 'Hmmm, do you want that?' One of his hands went up to massage my breast, the other groping my ass while I kept lifting and sinking myself onto his cock. The sound of skin slapping skin had me moaning. 'Yes, Dettlaff.' 'Are you going to give me a child?' 'Oh, yes... Yes!' My legs started shaking uncontrollably, my walls clenching around his length. I began to tremble, letting all control go of my body. As I came harder than I ever had, Dettlaffs finger brushed against my clitoris, a proud smile soon accompanying his features. Soon, he closed his eyes tightly as he felt me start to break down, emptying himself in my depths. I collapsed on top of him, resting my head against his heavily moving chest. His heartbeat was immensely fast. He kept himself sitting in me for a little longer until he pulled out and I winced at the sensation. Wholly satisfied and exhausted, I looked him in the eye. 'That was incredible... Thank you for trying your best for me, Dettlaff.' I whispered, softly smiling as he kissed my forehead. 'No need to thank me. I should thank you for this amazing experience. It certainly was an eye-opener to me... I hope to do this again with you very soon.'

I smiled. 'Of course. I love you.' 'I love you, too, (Y/n).' I closed my eyes, resting against him. His hands roamed over my body, insatiable almost. I enjoyed the touch as I softly drifted off to sleep. Right as I slipped into a slumber, I heard him mutter something underneath me. 'Do you want to become my wife?'

#dettlaff van der eretein #the witcher #blood and wine #witcher x reader #x reader #smut #moans of Temeria

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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710

Have you ever done drugs and were able to quit for good? I’ve done milder drugs, like caffeine and nicotine... I don’t have like a dependence issue on them so it’s nothing I have to ‘quit.’ Are you against weed, or do you think it should be legalized? I honestly don’t know much about them since they’re normally shunned in our culture and is barely talked about/explored. I’ve heard they have medicinal purposes though and I’m finding it hard to find excuses as to why it can’t be legalized for that reason. Have you ever been taken advantage of while drunk? No. Is there any medication you refuse to take? (Like for ADHD, etc.) No, and I’m not familiar with the types of medication either. Ever watched an Above the Influence commercial under the influence? I haven’t. We don’t have commercials like that.

Have you ever or do you have an abusive significant other? Nope, just abusive family members. Are your parents too involved in your life, or do you feel forgotten? Uhh I get the feeling they want to be more involved partly because they’ve realized I’m getting older and it’s only a matter of time before I live my life on my own, so they’ll sometimes drop hints like wishing they got to know more about my love life, mental health, etc. But because we’ve been emotionally distant my whole life, it’s hard for me to open up at all so I refuse or get reluctant whenever they ask. How do you feel when it comes to love? Well I mean these days and for the last few years I’ve been optimistic about it. It’s been a while since I haven’t had a significant person that my life revolves around so my perspective is pretty biased, though. Do rainy, cloudy days affect your mood? They make me feel better. I thrive in bleak weather, and I absolutely hate sunny, humid days. Have you ever wished you could just move away and start over? No. I’m still pretty young so there’s still opportunities for me to do exactly this once I graduate. For the meantime I go through a bunch of shit, make mistakes, and learn from them so that I know better once I have to be an Adult. Are you impulsive, or do you overthink? I’m both. I overthink on my downtime but am impulsive when I feel pressured.

Are you or have you ever been addicted to any substance? No. Do you think beauty goes more than skin deep? Duh. It’s 2020, I think we’ve covered that a million times now. Do you remember your first date? How was it? My legit first date was at a nearby mall and we only had enough to afford Bonchon for lunch. We had just graduated high school so there wasn’t any reason for our parents to give us allowance anymore so we just relied on whatever we had saved in the last few days of school, which wasn’t a lot. But it was our first date after getting back together so we were simply happy spending time together in that simple date. Have you gotten caught in a HUGE lie to your parents? No, I’ve never gotten in trouble specifically for lying because I hate doing that to begin with. I’ve been in deep shit for other stuff, like getting caught cursing on social media when I was 10 or failing a test/class. Are your relationships unstable, or do you manage to keep friends a while? They’re mostly stable and I have friends I’ve kept for a very long time, but I tend to be very particular about actions. That means to say when someone does something I have on my blacklist (like breaking my trust or making fun of me directly) I’ll have no problem cutting them off in seconds, which some have been confused by cos it’s not really that common to do something so abruptly. Don't you hate when people have the nicest parents & treat them like shit? Yeah of course. Why wouldn’t that piss me off? Are your moods stable or do you never know how you're gonna feel? They’re stable for the most part. I can tell when my mood is about to shift and even then I have ample time to adjust for it and warn others if possible. Have you ever been on probation or arrested? If so, what for? Nope. The most/worst that has happened has been getting pulled over. Do you think that without drama and problems your life would be boring? Not that I exclusively thrive on drama lmao, but it’s sometimes nice to have it around just for the spice of it. I can definitely live without it, but yeah I’d say life would be a *little* bland. When you've had a bad day, do you seek an escape, or do you just face it? Depends on what problems I have. If it’s something I know will be sticking around for a while – like my anxiety toward my thesis – I’d rather have a quick, brief escape like eating out or having a few drinks. But if I’m bothered by something more pressing, something I know I’d lose sleep about, I just face the music. Do you think the bible's hypocritical, or do you live by it? Oh I dunno dude. I stopped paying attention to it when I finally didn’t have to read it every morning for school, so I’ve forgotten most of the lines. I have some memories of raising my eyebrows at some gospels though – like the one where Jesus flips out at seeing a marketplace near the temple, when these days a bunch of malls – public areas designated exclusively for shops – host masses of their own. Most churches are also situated near markets or have clothing or food stalls nearby for people to flock to after mass, so that bit confuses me to this day. Have you ever thought you were or actually BEEN pregnant? No, this has never been a concern of mine. Have you ever guilt tripped someone into something? LMAO just my parents, because I’m the most spoiled out of their kids. That’s not to say I’m spoiled rotten, I’m just a bit more expressive about what I want. Do you actually care about other's problems? UP has opened my eyes to the plight of the poor and the working class, and so I mostly care for their struggles. When it comes to the opposite sex, do you fall for them faster or slower? I’m demi. My concept of ‘falling’ is the same for everyone. Have you ever had or been part of an intervention? Never. I wasn’t aware of the concept either until I saw it being done for Jesse Pinkman in Breaking Bad. If you could, would you go back and change the way things ended with someone? No. Can you manipulate someone into getting what you want? I can probably do it but I never want being manipulative to be a dominant trait of mine. Does the type of music someone listens to tell the type of person they are? Sometimes? Idk, you’d be surprised at some of the music people listen to. I’m as basic as basic gets lmao but I know people would be surprised to see Rancid on my playlists. But then again, music is a form of expression and it’s still a good indicator of someone’s personality or aura. Have you ever felt like you know a person just from their survey answers? Several people I follow have said that their surveys serve as their journals, so in a way it is an avenue to find out who they are. I don’t wanna assume I know them 100% though because after all, I’ve only known them through Tumblr. Are there any problems within your family? If so, what? Land dispute problems primarily, as with all Filipino families. Another issue I’ve heard of recently is what to do with one of the houses we own – who’s in charge of selling it, how to divide the money once it’s sold, etc. Apparently my grandma wants some of the money to be given to one of her sons (my deadbeat uncle) which has pissed my mom off and she’s currently pushing for him not to get any of the money cos he hasn’t done anything to contribute to the family haha. It’s all honestly fun to watch and has taught me to take it easy on my sister when we get older. If you're in a bad mood, do you take it out on others or do you hold it in? I try to hold it in and handle it responsibly, but there are times I’ll snap towards other people. Most days I act fake and convince everyone I’m doing fine so that they don’t need to worry, though. Have you ever seen cocaine, ecstasy, heroin, or acid? Have you done it? Nah I’ve never seen any of these in person. Do you like a lot of attention or does it make you uncomfortable? Oh man I hate it. Once I start feeling there’s too much on me, I try to shift it to someone else. Have you ever wanted to help someone, but you just couldn't? I don’t think I’ve ever had to care for someone who was just too far down. In one way or another I’ve always been able to offer help to my friends who needed it. Have you ever contemplated suicide or talked someone out of it who has? Just the former. I doubt I’m mentally capable of handling the second one all by myself, so I’m a little relieved I’ve never had to do it. I’m sure I have friends who can do it much better than I would. Have you ever been homeschooled? Why? No, I’ve had traditional schooling all my life. Have you ever woken up somewhere and not known where you were? Nah it’s never been this bad. I’ve woken up confused for a few seconds, but I’ve never been completely clueless. Has someone ever laced/slipped something in your drink? No, that’s awful. Have you ever had a party when your parents went outta town? Get caught? I don’t throw parties at my own place, and that’s not very common here either. Is there something you really wanna tell/say to someone but can't? Nah, I’m good. I do want to hug Angela because I’m sure she still feels bad about her grandmother passing away. Don't you hate when someone texts you and you're expecting someone else? Hahahahahaha, yes. That’s why I gave my girlfriend a separate ringtone.

#survey #surveys

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fernwehbookworm · 4 years

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Woke The F*ck Up- Chapter 30

March 6th, 2019

“How did the meeting go?” Kara asks as she looks over the paperwork. The office is half-finished, and a folding table is serving as her desk. Construction lights illuminate the main room and provide her only light. It’s getting late, but she wants to get through all this work before she leaves so that the general contractor can get to work first thing in the morning.

“Very good. They’re letting me sell my shares back to them. I’m just under a non-disclosure for a year and then a non-compete for another year after that.” Lena says over the phone.

“Two years is a long time for you not to produce music. Are you still sure about that?”

“Yes. I think it would be good to take a break. I’ve been going and going my whole life. Besides, I can still write and begin plans for my new music production company. I just can’t go public or look for clients until that window is up, but I can get everything ready.”

“As long as you will be happy with that, I will be.”

“How is your day going?”

“Good. Construction will officially start tomorrow. I’m just finishing up signing some stuff before they start. I’ll go back to your penthouse in a few minutes.”

“Babe, you have spent more time there than I have in the whole time I’ve owned it.”

“But it’s still yours.”

“What if it was ours?” Lena asks tentatively.

Kara pauses her skimming with her pen poised over a signature line. The silence fills the room. She can’t even hear Lena breathing. “Are you… Are you asking me to move in with you?”

Lena sighs out a breath, “Yeah, I think I am. Are you saying yes?”

Kara laughs out of relief. “Yes. Of course, it's a ‘yes’, Lee. It would have been a little more romantic in person. At least then I could kiss you.”

“Then why don’t you?” Lena says from the doorway.

Kara grins up at her in the soft light that illuminates Lena’s silhouette. Lena holds a bundle of flowers in one hand and a bag of take-out in the other. Kara climbs to her feet and cups Lena’s face to kiss her girlfriend. It’s been weeks since they were in the same city with Lena finishing her tour and ending her contract with Green Diamond Records. Then Kara was finishing closing this deal in Metropolis and setting up her National City gym to run without her while she established her second location.

“I’ve missed you,” Kara whispers, adding another peck to Lena’s lips after the much more passionate kiss.

“Hmmm… Me too.”

“Did you fly out as soon as your meeting was over?”

“Yes. I wanted to see you. I wanted to ask you to move in with me. Or, well… share property with me. I know our lives are a little crazy right now, but when this is over, and I am somewhere a little more permanently, I want to come home to you.”

“I think that may just be the most romantic thing you have ever said to me.” Kara smooths her thumb over Lena’s cheek.

“Really? Not the dozens of songs I’ve written about you.”

“Not even close. I want us to build a home together.” “Then let’s go home and eat this Chinese food before it gets cold.”

‘You had me at Home. Though Chinese food is a nice bonus.”

August 21st, 2019

Alex leans against the car next to Sam as they watch Ruby head into the high school. Alex tightens her grip on Sam’s hand as Sam wipes at tears escaping from her eyes. It’s been pushing it to get Ruby enrolled in time when Sam decided to move back to National City with Alex as she took over the director position. They had just three weeks to pack both houses and Alex’s apartment, enroll Ruby, get travel documents, and find a new place for them to live. Together. Lena was staying in London to oversee the sale of the house for Sam before she and Kara settled in Metropolis for the time being. Kara was adamant that she would not call Metropolis home and that this move was temporary.

“She’s going to be fine. She has you for a mother, after all.” Alex reassures Sam.

“I know. I’m a mess. I knew this day was coming, but it seemed forever away. Now I’ve blinked, and my baby girl is going off to high school.”

“Just wait, in four years, we get to do it all over again.”

“Yeah. We do. But would you want to do it from the beginning with me?” Sam asks.

“Like kids? And babies? With you?”

Sam nods.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted. To be a mother. And to do it with you? That’s a dream.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Alex kisses her girlfriend. “But how will Ruby feel?”

“She’ll be ecstatic. She’s already bugged me about being my maid of honor at our wedding and how we need to get a bigger place because she refuses to share a room.”

“Shouldn’t one of us propose first?”

“Probably, but we’ll get there. No rush.”

December 10th, 2020

Kara drops her bag by the front door and kicks off her dirty shoes. It’s her third trip taking high schoolers to different countries for service projects. It has already helped eight of them get scholarships to colleges. It’s fun and a great learning experience for them all, but Kara is more than happy to come home to her girlfriend and indoor plumbing.

“Lee! I’m home!” Kara calls as she walks through their penthouse, intending on kissing Lena before showering and passing out in her own bed. Krypto meets her in the hallway with excited prancing until Kara Leans down to hug him and scratches behind his ears.

“In the living room!” Lena calls back.

Kara manages to stagger that way, only to be drawn up short by a dozen people and bright lights. Equipment takes up the living room space that hasn’t been rearranged. Lena weaves her way between people with her assistant Eve, who has left Green Diamond to follow Lena, right at her heels.

“What is this?” Kara asks.

“I’m sorry. With your flight delayed, I didn’t get a chance to tell you I’m having an interview done. Kind of a tell-all. We hope that it will keep me relevant enough that in the spring it will be easier when I start producing to gain business.”

“Uh… Okay?” Kara’s too tired to process this.

“Go shower and sleep, babe. We will try and keep it down.” Lena kisses her dazed girlfriend’s cheek.

“Will you be working later?”

“Yes, probably. I’ll probably take them in there too.”

“Okay. Talk later?”

“Yes, we can talk later. After you sleep. I’ll order your favorite.”

Kara grins sleepily and pecks her girlfriend on the lips once more before disappearing down the hall towards their room, Krypto at her heels. Lena watches after her a moment before taking a seat back on the couch. Cat Grant emerges from the balcony where she’s been taking a phone call and sits in the chair next to Lena, turned so that she can look at the musician. Streaky settles on Lena’s lap again as Lena settles against the back with her legs crossed. She’s trying to keep the interview as informal as possible. A look into her life that her fans will eat up. Lena has even dressed in jeans, though still designer, and a cashmere sweater.

“Okay, ready to roll?”

“Yes, but I still get to approve the final cut.”

“Of course.” Cat answers, indicating towards the cameraman to start recording.

“So, Lena, where do we begin?”

“I suppose at the beginning. As far as I remember, my life ended and began the day the Luthor’s adopted me. I was welcomed into a cold empty house that I wanted to flee from the moment I entered. It was all so fake, the picturesque family. I was miserable. My only friends were in a dollhouse in a forgotten wing of the mansion.”

Lena tells her story. All of it. The verbally abusive upbringing. The failed relationships. Even the cover-ups for her overdoses and arrests. It’s a long tale about which Cat asks very few questions. Lena has planned to tell everything, and she is going to. Well, almost everything.

“Then one morning, I was here, in National City, when this ray of sunshine asked to share my table outside of this little coffee shop where I was writing. She didn’t recognize me. Wasn’t even a fan. But she was listening to my music because her sister had tickets to see my concert.”

“Really?”

“Yes, front row in fact. Though I found that out later. Anyway, we started talking and lost track of time. I was actually late to the soundcheck. She asked for my number, and I said no. But boy, did I want to give it to her. The next morning, I was nursing a hangover and went for coffee. I thought it would be a good idea to stroll through the park that the beautiful blonde woman had told me she ran through regularly.”

“And did you find her?”

Lena laughs and scratches behind Streaky’s ear. “You could say that. She found me. Well, she ran into me and knocked my coffee to the ground. I did give her my number then. What can I say? It felt like fate.”

“Fate you ushered along.” Cat raises an eyebrow, but Lena just shrugs.

“It was nice, someone chatting with me about nothing really. She wanted to take me on a date, not Lena Luthor. It was then that I knew I was in trouble.”

“In trouble with what?” Cat probes.

“With falling in love with her.”

“And you did?”

“Yes, pretty fast too. She was charming and caring and pretty darn perfect.”

“So it was easy?”

“God, no. I was still on tour. It fell apart just as fast as it began.”

“How so?”

“I won’t get into the details of that. Only half that story is mine to tell. I was still a very broken person. When her life got busy and she missed a few flights and was lying to me about something kind of important, I overreacted a bit. Also my brother was arrested, and I was emotional. I broke things off with her over a phone message. Then I immediately went out and slept with my ex,. Veronica. Kara found us still together, and that started my journey into self healing. Turns out she had started it too, though I didn’t know it. We both had issues to work out.”

“And how did you do that?” Cat crosses her legs and leans forward, intent on getting the full juicy story.

Lena just chuckles. “Therapy. Lot’s of therapy. And before you ask, no, it wasn’t immediate that we got back together. After my kidnapping, we got back in touch and then started therapy together. We toed the friendship line for what seemed like forever. But, in the end, we crossed it. And I couldn’t be happier.”

“Before we dive into your life now, what about your kidnapping? Your family?”

Lena sighs, internally. “My family. The Luthor’s were legally my family but not much more. That story has been beaten to death. My father adopted me after my real mother died. He killed a bunch of people and himself. My brother and mother followed in his footsteps and are now serving multiple life sentences. But they aren’t a real family. The one I have now is. Kara likes to call it our ‘found family’. It’s the family we chose and pieced together. It’s warm and comforting like a patchwork quilt, she says.”

Cat let’s the room fall into silence as she scans her notes. A couple people shuffle and cough behind the bright lights and camera. Lena decides to stay in control of the conversation instead.

“It’s been two years now that we have been together. Even with me not working it’s been hard. Kara is working on opening her third gym and sixth apartment building. She literally just got back from another humanitarian trip with some of the kids. Well, they aren’t really kids, but that’s what we call them. It really helps with their college applications and also transforms how they interact with other people.”

“Kara seems to have kept very busy then. What have you been up to since leaving Green Diamond records?”

“Whatever I want for the most part. I spent the first few weeks doing nothing. It was wonderful. But then I got a little stir crazy. I started volunteering, then, at a couple of places. Started an Instagram for our pet’s that have more followers than us. @YinandYang for anyone not following it. Streaky and Krypto are inseparable and cute. They get into all sorts of mischief here at home. Don’t be fooled though, Krypto is very well trained. Streaky is just too smart for her own good. Then Kara and I decided to move in together, so I spent a lot of time house hunting while she worked.”

“This is a beautiful penthouse. It must have been hard to find and not cheap.”

“Actually, the building was slated for demolition when we bought it. I had it renovated and brought back up to code since it was empty for so long. These high end condos helped pay for some of our other ventures into the lower class apartments. And I was able to have everything here built to my specifications, including my own at home studio and Kara’s personal gym.”

“You have a studio here?”

“Of course. I am planning on starting my own production company once my two year non-compete is up. An actual recording studio is in the process of being purchased, but for now I write in my own.”

“Can we see it?”

“Sure. Let’s get moved over there. I can give you a quick tour before we finish up this interview there.”

“Perfect. Cut the camera’s” Cat directs the last part at the camera man. “Strike the lights and move them to the studio. Carl, I want the mobile camera to follow us on the tour so get it strapped on.”

The man Cat named gives a soft ‘Yes, ma’am,’ before doing as he is told. A flurry of activity fills the room as the crew jumps to do what they are told. Streaky looks annoyed at the noise. She yawns and stretches before wandering off, no doubt to find the warm body of either Kara or Krypto. The amount of photos Lena has of the three of them sleeping together is ridiculous. Streaky had taken on some dog like tendencies, like sleeping in piles and trying to bark at birds, while Krypto took on some cat like ones. He liked to help Streaky groom herself or chase the cat toys. Once, Krypto even caught a mouse that managed to get into their penthouse and nearly gave Lena a heart attack by leaving it next to their bed.

“I am glad you and Kara ended up together” Cat pulls Lena from her thoughts.

“Me too. We did have quite a laugh about you giving me her number though.”

“Yes, yes. Well, I was right, if not just a few days behind.”

“Sorry to keep you in the dark for those months. We really were trying to do it right the first time. But I don’t regret any of my decisions anymore. Both of us made decisions that led us here.”

“Oh please, I understand. The people I have dated would blow your mind, but I don’t parade them around. I’ve even been married to one man that never hit the papers.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. We had it annulled three days later.”

“You are a very intriguing woman, Cat.”

“I know.” Cat settles in her chair and watches equipment being moved towards the studio that Lena has indicated to. It takes a few more minutes before Carl is ready.

Lena just gives a simple tour, starting with the high end kitchen. Lena has taken up cooking and baking now that she has more free time. She moves on to the media room that’s more of a small movie theater that hosts a table for board games and Kara’s pool table. Kara has insisted it’s too much, but Lena has convinced her that they need it to host game nights. There are even popcorn and soda machines in one corner. Lena shows them the guest bedrooms and Kara’s gym. Lena pokes her head into their bedroom to check on Kara but smiles when she sees Kara isn’t there. Lena knows exactly where she is.

“Ms. Grant, we have an issue.” One of the crew interrupts.

“Yes?”

“Well, it seems Miss. Danvers is asleep in the studio.”

Lena shuts the door to their bedroom with a laugh. “It’s fine. Set up around her. She’ll sleep through it.”

Cat raises an eyebrow but is obviously waiting for them to be on camera again to ask it. They make their way into the studio, finally. Sure enough, on the couch in the sound booth, Kara is fast asleep. Krypto is on the floor next to the couch, and Streaky is curled on her stomach.

Lena had added the couch because Kara kept insisting on working on paperwork when Lena was working on her music. Kara said that even if they were both busy, it didn’t mean they couldn’t spend time together. So Kara would sit on the floor and work while Lena did. Many times Kara fell asleep because Lena still loved to work in the late hours of the night, going into the morning. That’s when she tended to hit her flow. Three in the morning was still a magical time. But for Kara it’s bedtime, so Lena added the couch.

There are two stools next to the microphone and Lena’s sound board. All of her instruments were in here too. Cat sits on one of the stools as easily as she did the chair in the other room. Lena sits in the other one. A red light comes on.

“So does this happen often?” Cat indicates Kara behind them.

Lena laughs. “Literally all the time. Since she just got home from, oh shoot. I believe she was somewhere in South Africa with some teens building houses. I like to work late, and she likes to work early, so this happens more often than not.”

“And she doesn't wake up?”

“Not usually. I just keep the bass off on playbacks and usually the percussion too.”

“So you are still writing then?” “Of course. I don’t know if I could stop.”

“But you’re not releasing anything?”

“No. I’ve probably written ten thousand songs over the years that never got finished or made it to albums.”

“And you play every part on your albums, correct?”

“Yes, I only use a band on tour. Otherwise, it’s just me.”

“How did you learn to do all of that?”

“When I was first adopted, Lillian had me specially tested in maths and sciences, which I scored high on, but the woman testing me noticed I had more of an aptitude for music and suggested to Lillian I might be a prodigy. Of course, that made Lillian happy. Then the bastard daughter could be useful. Unfortunately, I wasn’t that good at any one thing. But I was able to learn instruments easily enough. Since I wasn’t a prodigy though, Lillian thought music was a waste of time, so it was math and science for me. At least then I could help in the family company.”

“So how wide is your range?”

“Oh, anything really. I even lost a bet with Kara and wrote Take it All Back using a banjo and a mandoline. I’ve consulted on a few rap songs. I can play classical music too. I’m looking at pulling in more alternative, small time artist when I start producing.”

“I’m sorry. Did you say rap? I’m not sure I entirely believe that.”

“Oh yeah. That song, Chills by Down With Webster. They had a good hook but they were struggling with part of it and reached out. I loved the song. We worked together for a couple of weeks. It was great. Of course, I couldn’t be paid or be in the credits with my contracts still in place.”

“I’m still not sure if I believe you.” Cat raises an eyebrow, challenging.

Lena sighs. “All right. I’ll show you then.”

Cat grins, she wanted exactly this. Lena takes a deep breath and looks around a moment, looking for inspiration. Of course, it’s Kara who is still sound asleep. It’s been Kara who inspires her for so long now. Lena begins by using her sound board to record some looping vocals and instrumentals. Cat watches everything intently and makes sure her crew are recording everything.

Dum, dum, dum, dum, dum, dum

Dum, dum-dum, dum, dum, dum, dum

Beautiful, Mind, Mind, Mind

She's literally like 5 feet away from me

While I'm recording this, sleeping on the couch

This is for her, sleepy ass

I wrote this while I'm watching you sleep

You're behind me on the couch and in the studio

So I'm gonna make this all about sleep

And soft so I don't wake you up

You're smiling as you sleep so you dig it

Only I can make some soft shit and rip it

I knew you were dope from the jump like ribbit

Cuz all these other girls fall short like midgets

The Sandman gonna flip when he come through

While you count sheep I'll give him music to jump to

The Sandman gonna flip when he come through

While you count sheep I'll give him music to jump to

I wrote this while I'm watching you sleep

Your hair is all over the place and I love it

I won't put the bass in this beat

If it knocks I might wake you up

You're smiling as you sleep so you like it

She just let me work cuz she know I cook diamonds

She know I'm paid but she still 9-5ing

That's why she allowed to hang while I'm writing

Hahaha

The Sandman gonna flip when he come through

While you count sheep I'll give him music to jump to

The Sandman gonna flip when he come through

While you count sheep I'll give him music to jump to

Dopest musical breakdown ever, ready?

If I make this

Then maybe you will wake up and get naked

Girl I'm playing, girl I'm playing, girl I'm playing

Maybe not

If I make this

Then maybe you will wake up and get naked

Girl I'm playing, girl I'm playing, girl I'm playing

Maybe not

If I make this

Then maybe you will wake up and get naked

Girl I'm playing, girl I'm playing, girl I'm playing

Maybe not

If I make this

Then maybe you will wake up and get naked

Girl I'm playing, girl I'm playing, girl I'm playing

Maybe not

Dum, dum, dum, dum, dum, dum

Dum, dum-dum, dum, dum, dum, dum Uhhhh, look who finally decided to wake up?

Kara has sat up, disturbing Streaky from her sleep again, and she didn’t look happy about it. Kara rubs the sleep from her eyes and smiles at Lena. It was a sweet smile that reminds Lena of everything she loves about Kara.

“That was a wonderful little treat. A little rough but you are one very talented woman. Not that I ever had many doubts about that.”

“Thank You, Cat. Any more questions? If not, my girlfriend is ready for some dinner now.”

Kara hums the affirmative in Lena’s ear before kissing her cheek.

“No, I believe that will do. I’ll have the final copy for your approval next week. Then we can talk about a release date on our website.”

“Sounds wonderful. I’ll walk you out, Cat. Babe, can you feed the pets and pick somewhere to order from?” Lena says.

“Way ahead of you, love.” Kara is already scrolling through her phone.

Lena leads Cat back through the penthouse.

“So, when are you proposing?” Cat asks.

Lena stops dead in her tracks. “I— How did you know?”

Lena decides its better not to play dumb about it. Cat is very observant and can read people very well. She didn’t get to the top of the media world without being the best. Cat just raises an eyebrow while she picks up her purse off the kitchen counter. Lena can hear the kibble hit the bowls in the laundry room so she knows Kara isn’t close enough to hear the conversation as long as she keeps her voice down.

“I haven't figured it out yet. I just bought the ring three days ago.”

“Do it fast. I have a feeling that Kara is thinking along the same lines.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Call me when you have the video ready.”

“Have a good evening, Lena.”

“You too, Cat.”

And with that, Cat Grant is gone, and the crew is packing supplies back into the entry hall. Lena goes to find her girlfriend to give her a proper welcome home kiss. She really does have to figure out a way to propose so that Kara is her fiancée, not just her girlfriend.

March 31st, 2021

Lena is more than relieved that this day has finally come. A giant concert in the park showcasing a couple of her early talents and giving them their first taste of live performance in a large venue. Lena is also going to be performing a few of her own songs for the first time in two years. The concert has sold out in under an hour. Lena is directing behind the stage with the help of Eve, who has proven steadfastly loyal to Lena. Sam is also somewhere here, now working for Lena in her new company. El Mayarah Music. Lena thinks it’s nerdy, but Kara made a strong argument for the name, starting with Krypto and ending with how they are stronger together. More so than ever.

I've been searching for the right words

But I can't even find an echo

Don't you let go

There are only twenty

Six letters I can use

Just to tell you I won't let go

Don't you let go

I lose my voice when I look at you

Can't make a noise though I'm trying to

Tell you all the right words

Waiting on the right words

Just another lovesick afternoon

Black butterflies and déjà vu

Hoping for the right words

Waiting for the right words

I lose my voice when I look at you

Can't make a noise though I'm trying to

Tell you all the right words

Waiting on the right words

Just another lovesick afternoon

Black butterflies and déjà vu

Hoping for the right words

Waiting for the right words

Lena finishes her last song to the thunderous applause of the crowd. She bows to her fans, huffing and puffing while blowing a kiss here and there. Lena becomes confused when the lights don’t go down like they were supposed to. Sam appears on the stage with a chair and leads Lena to sit in it.

“What is happening?” Lena whispers to her friend.

“Just relax.” Sam practically pushes Lena into the chair and takes her mic off.

Lena’s band starts an instrumental track as five men enter the stage. Lena gasps. She had only met them once before and was slightly star struck because she was slightly obsessed with them. AJ, Howie, Nick, Kevin, and Brian start in on a very 90’s dance routine, but it’s a female voice that starts in on the song, and Kara emerges to sing and dance with the Backstreet Boys.

I've been to Paris, made my way down to Rome

Seen the sun setting on the beach in Mexico

But I could care less, 'cause I was all alone

And there ain't no way to touch your body over the phone

I've been all around the world, done all there is to do

But you'll always be the home I wanna come home to

You're a wild night with a hell of a view

There ain't no place, ain't no place like you

It’s quite amazing and well rehearsed. Kara is playing to the crowd like a professional while also keeping her focus solely on Lena. Kara dances with the men and weaves her much more feminine voice into theirs. Lena begins to have an inkling of what is happening but she is powerless to stop it. She isn’t sure if she wants to.

You're my daybreak, you're my California sun

You're my Memphis, New York, New Orleans all rolled into one

In the city, the country, the mountains or sea

Wherever you are, baby, that's where I wanna be

I've been all around the world, done all there is to do

But you'll always be the home I wanna come home to

You're a wild night with a hell of a view

Kara pulls Lena to her feet and begins to lead her through an improvised dance while singing. Kara swings Lena around, spins her, and Kara’s strong arms support her in a deep dip. The crowd eats it up.

There ain't no place, ain't no place like you

There ain't no place, ain't no place like you, no

There ain't no place (no place, no place)

Ooh, yeah, ain't no place

Wherever you are, baby, that's where I wanna be

I've been all around the world, done all there is to do

But you'll always be the home I wanna come home to

You're a wild night with a hell of a view

There ain't no place, ain't no place like you

Said there ain't no place, ain't no place like you, yeah

Kara spins Lena off again, this time letting go of her hand. Lena loses her bearing a bit and has to steady herself.

There ain't no place (no place, no place)

No place

There ain't no place like

No place like you

No place, no place, no place, no place

There ain't no place, no place like you

When Lena manages to turn around, Kara is down on one knee with a ring sitting displayed in a little box, and Lena is sure now what is happening.

“Lena Luthor, you are the love of my life, and all I want to do is come home to you for the rest of it. Will you marry me?” Kara asks, slightly out of breath after giving it her all in the performance.

“That depends, is this you finally admitting that Backstreet Boys is better than NSYNC?”

A chorus of ‘Oooo's’ and cheers mix with ‘Boo’s’ as the boy band shuffle a little awkwardly, not expecting that reponse. Kara hangs her head in mock shame, a smile still fixed firmly on her face at their old argument. She laughs softly but the microphone taped to her cheek picks it up for all to hear.

“I will never listen to NSYNC again if that’s what it will take for you to say ‘yes’ right now. This did take several months to plan, and I’d rather not make a fool of myself in front of a hundred thousand of your fans.”

Lena laughs and shakes her head, her own microphone picking up every word. “Oh come here, of course it is a yes.” Lena grasps Kara’s wrist and pulls her up for a kiss. Kara eagerly obliges and nearly drops the ring box. It takes a moment for Kara to actually get it on Lena’s finger. It fits perfectly, Kara no doubt getting her ring size from Gabriel because despite their rocky start, he has actually grown very fond of Lena’s girlfriend. Though he still curses Kara’s preference for motorcycles and occasionally leaving visible marks on Lena’s neck.

“Well, that was quite a show. I hope it made your night, I know it made mine. And much better than an encore.” Sam’s voice shakes Kara and Lena out of their bubble. “All the artists you have seen here tonight have albums available for purchase at the merchandise tables or online. Keep an eye out for future El Mayarah releases and drive safely.”

Finally the lights go down, and Kara helps lead Lena off the stage, kissing her again much more passionately once they are away from all those eyes. Lena’s hands begin searching for the hem of Kara’s shirt. Kara’s hands stop her though.

“You’ll have to be a little patient, babe. There is an engagement party that we have to get to.”

Lena groans. “Really? You know how I feel after a concert. And then you proposed to me. What makes you think I can make it through a whole party?”

“I know. It seemed like a good idea when Sam suggested it.”

“How long do we have?”

“Twenty minutes?”

“My dressing room is that way.” Lena points over her shoulder.

Kara grins and practically runs down the hallway with Lena right on her heels.

April 10th, 2021

The Lightning round Mad Gab Tournament was in full swing. Kara and Lena were neck and neck with Ruby and her ‘best friend’ Rachel. Sam had her doubts about that title, but she was letting Ruby come to that realization on her own. Everyone else has been eliminated and are gathered around the table in Lena and Kara’s game room. Ruby counts down and flips the three minute sand timer. Kara flips the first card for Lena to read.

“Ease Ace Life Ox.” Lena reads out loud. Quickly saying it again, stressing different syllables and saying it faster and slower. Trying to work out the actual sentence.

“He’s a sly fox!” Lena shouts.

“Yes!” Kara shouts, slamming down the card.

Lena picks up a card from the deck in front of her, she had snuck her own card on to it as the group settled around the table for the final round. Lena holds it up, suppressing a grin. She had hoped to do this last game night, before Kara’s proposal but the custom made card was late in coming. That was fine, she has a feeling she and Kara have a lifetime of trying to one up romantic gestures.

“Wheel Yum Air Ream Me.” Kara reads aloud, then she goes through the same exercises Lena did to work out the true sentence.

“Will you marry me!” Kara shouts as she stands in her excitement. Then she realizes what she just read out loud and the ring now sitting in Lena’s hand. Kara sits back down in her chair and stares at Lena’s open hand, the ring glinting in the light. The diamonds are small, Lena had it custom made so that they didn’t stick out from the band. That way Kara didn’t have to take it off for most of her activities.

“Are you serious?”

“Are you saying yes?”

“But I already asked you.”

“I know. Turns out I procrastinated too long and you beat me to the punch. Still, I’m asking. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, of course, Lee.”

Cheers come from all around as there friends share in their excitement. And especially loud ‘Yes!’ comes from Ruby and they all look at her.

“Times up. We win!” Ruby shouts and then she and Rachel take off to the other side of the room to power up the Wii.

“Still want to marry me?” Lena asks, knowing how competitive Kara was.

“Only if this is a one time hijacking of game night.”

“I promise I will not intrude on the sanctity of game night ever again.”

“Then yes, I will still marry you.”

“This calls for champaign!” Sam announces, going to retrieve the bottle she snuck in while Kara was busy playing hostess.

“Bourbon for me!” Alex calls after her.

“Your next,” Kara teases her sister.

“Already planning.” Alex throws back with a wink.

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The End

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #Singer #Vigilante #AU #fanfiction #WTFU

7 notes · View notes

ineffablecolors · 5 years

Note

Do you take fic requests? I’ve requested this from a few different accounts and never saw it done: Killian runs out of the eyeliner he brought with him from the EF and he has to ask Emma where to get more

Nonnie, I’m gonna pretend I’m not offended that you didn’t come to me first :P (also I did way too much research into what eyeliner was like in the past for this)

. .

He tips the little golden box to the side and frowns.He can swear he is running out of kohl faster than when he was at sea. Which is nonsensical because now he does his eyes mostly out of habit and perhaps a touch of vanity - Killian is intimately acquainted with his flaws but he is equally skilled at accenuating his assets - not because he is actually exposed to the sun’s glare and staring at the horizon for hours on end.

And yet, as he dips the carved stylus inside, he has to reach much deeper than expected. True, his kohl box is not enchanted the way his flask is but he knows it was completely full upon their return from Neverland, when he took stock of all his provisions.

It is a mystery he puts out of his mind when he sees how high in the sky the sun is already and hurries to apply the powder without further distractions.

It is not that he has a set arangement to get to. Not precisely. It’s just that somehow - by stroke of habit or luck or design he dare not guess - for the last month, Emma has been taking her lunch on a bench by the marina every Wednesday and Friday.

The weekend is mostly reserved for her parents and Henry, he knows. Mondays she is much too busy and averse to company to eat anywhere but at her desk. Tuesdays and Thursdays are given to Granny’s. He tries not to think about the Tuesdays. She has a standing lunch date with her lad which Baelfire has taken to “crashing”, to borrow Emma’s own phrase, ever since he learnt about it.

But it’s no matter. It’s Friday and he sees the flash of red and gold long before he has reached her spot. He slows down and inserts a heavy dose of aimlessness into his step. If the way her mouth and cheek twitch restlessly is any indication, he is not doing a terribly good job of selling his nonchalance.

“Swan,” he nods to her and purposefully turns to face the water. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Must be quite the shock.”

He purses his lips and circles around the bait. After all, she sounds more amused than exasperated. Surely, if she didn’t want to be found, she would have at least changed her choice of seat by now.

“You are ruining my view.”

This time he bites.

“Come now, love. We both know I could never do anything but vastly enchance the view.”

She hums around another bite of her sandwich and it’s provoking but it is also distinctively not disagreement. He takes a seat beside her.

They sit in silence for a few minutes. They usually do. Unless she has something to “vent about” - really, Emma grumbles about the way he speaks but, in truth, she is enriching his vocabulary in fascinating ways - she and the prince having a busy week of petty crimes and dwarf-sized disputes, Bae-- Neal trying to rope her into another “family bonding activity”, Regina complaying about Neal’s bonding activities and monopolization of Henry’s time or her mother trying for some bonding of her own and ending up with her foot in her mouth again.

When he actually thinks about it, they are rarely silent for longer than the first few minutes. But today Emma seems relaxed, almost content. He tries not to associate it with the way she had stretched and groaned and smiled and rolled out of his bed mere hours ago. He just takes in the curve of her lips and her cheek and--

“Bloody hell!”

She turns to him, eyes wide at his sudden exclamation.

“What?”

He swipes his thumb over her cheek - less tenderly than he normaly would have, not even giving her time to lean into the caress - though he doesn’t fail to note that she seemed ready to do just that. His finger comes away with some of the miniscule black specks on her cheek.

“You’re the one who has been robbing me blind.”

She frowns, looks down and rolls her eyes.

“You’re so overdramatic. And it’s that ridiculous stick you use that will blind you one day.”

“I do have some hundreds years of practice, I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“Whatever.”

She rolls her eyes again but it doesn’t do anything to hide the slight blush that has risen in her cheeks.

“And why, pray tell, have you taken to using it, if it’s so inconvenient?”

She takes an overlarge bite of her sandwich and glares at him as she chews. Killian can’t remember the last time he was this amused by another person’s antics. He waits patiently and when she finally swallows her food, Emma’s eyes drops to the small bit of bench left between them, her nail digging into the soft wood.

“It’s better, alright? It’s inconvenient but it’s better and lasts longer and... well, I was gonna say I’ll get you some more but I have no clue where to find that shit.”

He laughs, his eyes alight and on her and he wants to kiss her so badly but this has only been happening for a few weeks so he restrains himself to brushing her hair over her shoulder and rubbing away the rest of the powder that has fallen on her cheek. This time he lingers and she definitely leans into it.

“I’d be willing to barter with you, Swan.”

“What like - I owe you a kiss for every time I use your guyliner?”

The easy way she says it makes him think she might not have minded that much if he’d kissed her. It also gives him the confidence to casually refuse her.

“No, that won’t do. You have to give me something that’s only for my benefit, love.”

Her eyes flash - some indignation and a lot of fire and definitely a touch of interest.

“I have seen the ones you have in your world, you know?”

“What?”

“Your sticks of kohl that you just upcap and use. The way you don’t ink your pens either.”

“Oh. Yeah, eyeliner pencils.”

“Ingenius name.”

She gives him an unimpressed look but her lips are curled up and there is no space between then on the bench anymore and then--

“I could take you shopping tomorrow.”

“I thought you have an engagement with your mother.”

“Yeah, well. She is one of those psychos who prefers shopping in the mornings,” she shrugs as if it’s not a big deal and it doesn’t fool him in the least. “So I’m sure I can convince her to pawn me off after lunch and go spend the afternoon with my dad doing things I’m not going to think about.”

“You can have an afternoon like that yourself, love.”

He waggles his eyebrows aand leans closer, his nose almost brushing hers.

“Hook?”

“Aye?”

Her lips are too close and he is much too distracted.

“It’s really not in your best interest to associate that with my parents, if you want it to keep happening.”

Before he can formulate a reply, her lips press against his - firm and warm and much too quick - and in the next second she jumps to her feet and starts walking backwards, her face alight with mischief.

“2 pm. Don’t put anything on before that.”

“Nothing at all?” he calls after her and watches her roll her black-rimmed eyes.

#cs ff #i don't know what this is #but it is set in that favourite period of mine 3B-but-we-stayed-in-Storybrooke-and-got-to-have-character-progress #captain swan #cs prompts #eyeliner fic

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itsblissfuloblivion · 5 years

Text

Noir

this power duo is back on track, this time with some murder mystery with a healthy dish of sultry hinny on the side :) AO3 and FFnet versions available!

lots of love and please enjoy,

@gryffindormischief & @fightfortherightsofhouseelves

The post-Christmas season has always felt odd to Harry. It’s not the sudden lack of anything to anticipate, per se. His childhood had hardly been filled with late nights guessing what he had tucked underneath the tree. Unless he wanted to debate which old pair of Dudley’s socks he’d be receiving. All in all, he’d found his little spider mate more entertaining in the dimly lit closet-bedroom.

Once he got his Hogwarts letter and all the Weasleys that entailed, Christmas certainly became a more exciting affair with happier associations - save a few in the middle there, marred by some Voldemort tinged memories.

Regardless, Harry’s not really had the season built up in his mind to be something he should be nostalgic for. Particularly since his and Ginny’s real ‘holiday’ tends to start after everyone else’s. Sure, they both manage free days for the eve, day of, and boxing day, but wizards seem to love testing out dark magic in the dark winter months, and Ginny’s always got some promotion or other.

But January - January’s when he can lie about in his pants from dawn till dusk and no one says ‘boo.’ Ginny sometimes says some variation of ‘take off those shorts, Potter,’ but that’s either because he smells or she’s feeling randy. Either way, over the course of their still young marriage, Harry’s come to love January and everything that comes with it. Particularly the fact that they rarely plan much of anything, except maybe relocating their lazy eat-sleep-don’t sleep routine to a more tropical locale.

This year though, family gets in the way a bit. Not the red haired, magical, crazy type. In fact, it comes in a heavy weight paper, Muggle envelope addressed with an elegant hand to Mr and Mrs H.J. Potter. And since very few people know Harry and Ginny’s address and even fewer would actually use it to send mail, it’s not even necessary to read the embossed sticker on the back.

Huffing, Harry shakes his head. “Classic Big D. Coming in at the worst time.”

Which isn’t to say he hates getting contact from Dudley. Sure, it had been odd, building a semi-friendly relationship with his cousin and former bully. But time and maturity meant Harry had come to learn that apologies from contrite former enemies who’ve mended their ways should generally be accepted. If not for the whole cohesive brotherhood of man bit, at least to cut down on the things that give him heartburn. Besides, he’d seen a lot worse of humanity by the time he was eighteen than Dudley.

And whatever fear of a war he barely understood hadn’t squeezed out of Dudley, marriage and time spent away from Vernon Dursley managed to eradicate. So really, Harry didn’t much mind their occasional chats on Sunday afternoons, the sporadic lunch in Muggle London, or even a double date of dinner and a show.

But today, today he’s ready to toss the damn envelope and invitation in the fireplace. Because it’s the death knell for his staycation second honeymoon, and Ginny’s been taunting him with a tiny little package from that shop in Muggle London that sells even tinier, littler lacy bits.

Still, he doesn’t. And maybe it’s because the mailman gave him a bit of an odd vibe, in a hurry to leave, his jaw set and that rather conspicuous glint in the corner of his eye Harry’d noticed here and there throughout his career. Or maybe it’s that damn voice inside his head reminding him that Dudley’s really trying - in his Dudders-Diddikins way, granted, but still coming from Dudley the gesture’s more than decent.

A long suffering sigh and Harry flicks the envelope on the table next to Ginny, who gives him a cocked eyebrow, to which he responds with a shrug.

“Are we going, then?” She asks as her eyes scan Harry for any signs of hidden displeasure or negative feelings. Ginny’s always been protective of her husband when it came to his side of the family matters.

“Guess so, dunno,” Harry shrugs again, his slippered foot drawing traces on the carpet.

Ginny presses open palms to the table, balancing her way up and around the table to lean on it, her bottom now against the hard wood as her eyes tease and her grin speaks of mischief never quite managed. “Have I ever told you that I’d always imagined the two of us snuggled underneath a soft blanket in a cabin?”

“Uh - you - err, you didn’t?” Harry gulps as she bites her lower lip, that one delicious freckle close to her mouth taunting him as it always does.

“Huh,” Ginny pretends to frown, “It must’ve slipped my mind. Anyway, it’s the two of us, naked, content, snowflakes gathered over glazed windows as the fire burns strongly in the hearth,” she pauses, admiring the result of her work - which is to say a very hot and bothered Harry, smudges of red and pink crawling up his neck and up to the top of his ears.

“But if you don’t really feel like going…” Ginny sighs, adding the cherry on top of her masterpiece, then brushes past him on her way to their bedroom.

“What? I didn’t say that!” Harry panics, the beautifully crafted image of Ginny and him enjoying - well, everything - dissolving like a sad soap bubble in front of his eyes. So being the man of action he’d always been, Harry strides into their room, grabs their suitcases, and magics various articles of clothing inside with a huff and a frown.

“What are you doing?” Ginny asks rather amused.

“Packing. Can’t have old Diddy waiting, he gets an upset stomach when he’s anxious,” Harry shrugs, determined to finish the job he’d begun, and Ginny stiffles a giggle with the back of her palm.

“Right,” she smirks, caresses his arm as she move towards the wardrobe. “Then I’d better pack that little black thing you like so much.”

Harry groans.

Which is how Harry ends up in a rented car, trundling through the Scottish mountains, snow falling softly while Ginny does her best to convince him that he can refrain from murdering Piers for a weekend.

“He’s still a total arsehole,” Harry whines and flicks the windscreen wipers on. He’s not proud but this is seriously salt in a wound, being deprived of his Ginny-only holiday and being forced to associate with Piers the Prick for longer than an evening.

“Don’t be so close minded.”

“First, you asked if you could pants him at Dudley’s birthday party, and second, I am fully aware that people can change and grow,” Harry says, “I am also fully aware that somehow Piers got worse.”

Ginny fiddles with the radio - whoever programmed the shortcuts has terrible taste and loves listening to the most boring talk radio in existence - and sighs with mock easiness. “Well I suppose every time you start to feel your temper, I’ll just have to drag you off and have my way with you in a loo or a coat closet or a - ”

The blinker clicks as Harry turns onto a side road which allegedly leads to the little cabin Dudley’s rented for the weekend. “You’re a damn minx.”

“You’re welcome.”

The rest of the drive is relatively short and soon enough they’re greeting Dudley in the cozy front room while the rest of the guests mill about in the den. “We’ve got a fire going already and some mulled wine. Piers and his wife are here, so’s my mate Pamela from uni and her partner.”

Ginny gives Dudley a short hug. “Are we the last to arrive?”

“Nah, we’re still waiting on Jamie and Kendra,” Dudley shrugs, leading them toward the guestrooms, dark wood stairs creaking beneath their feet, “Fran will be glad you’re here, Ginny.”

“How are things at her new station?”

Dudley grins, unable to disguise the pride he has in his wife. “She’s already made assistant producer.”

Harry’s in the middle of congratulating Dudley when the door to their room swings open and he sees it - some sort of white fur rug laid out in front of a roaring fireplace. He can practically taste - well he’s not alone at least, in his train of thought, if Ginny’s slightly dazed expression is an accurate indicator.

Luckily, Dudley seems unaware, pointing out their view and confiding that he’s given them the room with the best facilities. “It’s got a jacuzzi tub.”

Someone, likely Fran, calls for Dudley from downstairs and he excuses himself. “Take your time getting settled, it’s a holiday.”

Once the door clicks shut, Harry drops back on the bed while Ginny unzips her luggage. “I’m not unpacking for you, lazy bones.”

“I’ll unpack myself, if you get my meaning,” Harry says with an exaggerated wink and a slight wiggle of his pelvis.

“Ugh, such a boy .”

Harry hums, “You’re welcome.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes and Harry drifts off into a bit of a twilight sleep while Ginny putters around, claiming the middle drawers for herself (top ones have always been too high and lower ones would mean she’d always have to scoot down to find anything). He wakes when she shoves the last drawer closed and falls onto the bed just at his side to tug on a fresh pair of socks. “Harry, my dear, darling Harry.”

She gets a grunt in response, and is apparently dissatisfied. Though, Harry’s not at all bothered when her method of expressing said dissatisfaction involves throwing a leg over his hips and sitting astride his thighs like he’s her favorite broom. He can’t help but run his palms up over her knees, pressing at her back until she complies with his wordless request and tips forward.

At least, mostly. Because ideally, she’d have pitched forward until their lips met and Harry would currently be turning to mush at the mercy of his wife’s dexterous tongue. But she catches herself on her forearms instead, fiery waves cascading around their faces like sunkissed curtains. “You have got to behave yourself this weekend.”

“I thought you liked my mischievous streak.”

“There’s a drawer full of your mischievous streak in the caretaker’s office at Hogwarts,” Ginny teases. “What I mean is that little black thing you like so much? It’s a reward for good behavior.”

“So I’m just to let whatever happens this weekend happen?”

Rolling her eyes, Ginny lets her lips tease at his jaw, nipping along the scruffy skin with highly distracting skill. “You’re to lie back and let your gallant harpy of a wife fight all your battles,” she lingers at his ear, earning a half sigh half moan, “And we both know you love it when I take charge.”

In a flash, Harry reverses their positions, pressing Ginny onto her back while the bed creaks beneath them, and manages to pin her wrists to the down-filled duvet. “Ditto.”

Later, though sadly not enough later for Harry and Ginny to have tested the jacuzzi tub, the Potters wander downstairs and join the other guests, all now arrived. When Piers catches Harry’s eye and raises his glass in recognition, Harry leans close to Ginny, his lips brushing her hair. “You are a sneaky little thing.”

Her lips tick up at the corners. “A given. Why the sudden revelation?”

“Getting me all hot and bothered talking about shagging in the closets - ”

“What a dirty mouth you have,” Ginny teases, her whisper quiet as she twiddles her fingers in a cheeky wave. Piers looks worried and he should.

“And you thought having your way with me would leave me all relaxed and then you could have all the fun.”

There’s a pause when Dudley’s wife Fran greets them and hands off two freshly poured mugs of mulled wine, but as soon as she goes to mingle with the other guests, Ginny picks up the thread. “I was under the impression the fun was mutual.”

“We both know I mean a completely different kind of fun.”

“If this is how you interrogate suspects, I’m quite shocked at your success rate, Aur - Detective Potter.”

Jamie - Fran’s friend Kendra’s fiance - wanders over, eyes lit with excitement. “Did I hear detective? Kendra and I love procedurals. You’ve got stories, right? Grisly stuff?” he pauses, fiddling with the clasp on his watch, “Sorry, I get excitable after a few drinks. Kendra’s my impulse control,” Harry and Ginny can barely do more than blink in his direction when Jamie shouts across the den, “ Kendra?”

As the tall brunette makes her way across the room, Ginny murmurs so only Harry can hear, “Hope those interoffice dinners with the bobbies from Scotland Yard are doing their job.”

He muffles his snort as best as he can and puts on his polite face for their new friends.

Dudley had better get him a case of scotch for this.

It’s not long, though, before they’re all summoned to the dining room for a delicious three course dinner. It’s not until the little miniature fondue pots are laid out that Harry realizes just how much of an appetite he’s worked up. He’s dunking his fourth bit of crusty bread in the heavenly dish when Piers’ wife - June? - addresses Harry. “I think it’s just lovely that you boys have known eachother since primary school.”

Dudley’s skewer falls to the table with a clatter and Harry simply raises his brows at Piers before responding, a slightly stiff smile on his face, “Ah. Yes. Even from a young age Piers was always eager to make an impression.”

Ginny snorts and June looks slightly confused at Piers’ flush, but prattles on about where her grade school mates went off to. Dudley and Fran look relieved as the chef pushes in a rattling cart filled with china bowls and a tureen of creamy tomato.

Once they’ve finished off half a roast chicken, two bowls of mashed potatoes, and some sort of baked mixed veg dish, they move back into the den and settle on the couches. The chef - Harry really tried to learn his name but he muttered it in a low very heavy German accent and Pamela was telling some story involving a fog horn which requires some very detailed imitation - disperses after dinner coffees and cherry pie a la mode before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Ginny manages her way through the minefield that is being a professional Quidditch player in the company of curious Muggles while they devour the pie. Before Ron and Hermione’s wedding, the bride herself had gifted Ginny with one of those ‘for dummies’ type books on football. Under threat of whatever terrible punishment Hermione Granger-Weasley could cook up, Ginny studied the book like she was back in her seventh year prepping for NEWTs and consequently ended up with a highly useful knowledge of the sport. Not that Ginny was a particularly big fan of telling Hermione so - in fact she’d only admitted it to Harry after a few too many glasses of wine on last year’s post-Christmas holiday from the world.

In the interest of brining the chat to a close before Ginny runs out of professional opinions as a sports writer in the field, Harry waits for an opportune moment and transitions the conversation to the following day. It seems they’ve got full run of the slopes and more than enough equipment to share between the four couples. Harry and Ginny went skiing with a few of his mates from the Ministry the January after Ginny started with the Harpies, so a day on the slopes should be pretty enjoyable. Plus last time they collapsed in bed and took turns massaging eachother’s tired muscles so all around Harry’s excited. He would probably have more fun if he and Ginny were home in their flat instead of using up valuable...bonding time socializing with Dudley and his mates.

“Ginny will probably put us all to shame, sportswoman that she is,” Pamela says with a laugh, propping her socked feet on Kate’s legs. She wriggles her toes so it almost seems the jolly reindeer are dancing and Ginny laughs good naturedly.

“I do alright, Harry here’s the expert though with that fit little arse,” Ginny laughs and Harry flushes.

Piers sets his coffee down with a clumsy hand, brows furrowed. “See - I still don’t understand that.”

“I’m sure that is something you don’t say often,” Ginny drawls, low so only Harry is privy to her jab.

“Harry’s always been a scrawny, specky thing and somehow he managed to land a hot piece of - ”

Unintentionally, Harry lets out a low growl as his jaw tightens. He’s used to holding back his baser instincts in this type of situation given that Ginny prefers to handle on her own with a mix of witty barbs and head cracking, depending on the situation. At the moment, he’s torn on which he’d like to see most.

Ginny’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly as she sets down her half-empty plate on the side table. Then she smiles, slightly too toothy to be genuine and Harry knows that look. It’s the same expression she gets before decimating the competition during a game, a shark smelling blood in the water. “Yes, Harry was a little thing. But he’s certainly grown up,” she pauses and squeezes his thigh meaningfully and sends him a flirtatious wink, “In all the most important ways.”

Jamie and Kendra share a look, both biting back laughter while Fran clears her throat, moving things along before Ginny decides to challenge Piers to a duel for Harry’s honor. She might hate an overly chivalrous mate, but hell if Ginny’s not a melodramatic Gryffindor when it comes to defending hers.

Everyone wanders off to their rooms, Dudley and Fran collecting the dishes and passing them through to the kitchen. Harry takes the stairs two at a time, tugging Ginny behind him.

Once they reach their room, Harry swings the door open and once they’re inside, presses Ginny up against the wood.

Ginny’s chest is rising and falling as she catches her breath, though she still manages a teasing, “Alright, Harry James?”

He’s already working his way down her neck, fingers dragging up the bottom of her jumper. “You have never been sexier.”

Sighing, she wriggles her hand between them and manages to press Harry away, just barely. “Wait ‘til you see what I packed to sleep in...or not sleep in.”

Harry wakes to a facefull of Ginny’s hair and a full bladder. She groans as he extricates himself from the bed, grasping at the sheets with her face scrunched against the morning light. “Why leave the glorious bed and your even more glorious wife for the cold, cruel world.”

“Unless you want me to wet the bed - ”

“Gross,” Ginny grumbles, flopping so she somehow takes up most of the bed, “Just get that clenched arse back here ASAP.”

“Ogling me?”

“You’re the one parading around starkers,” Ginny teases, twisting onto her back and basically wrapping herself up like a sultry little burrito.

Harry closes the door behind him, shouting back, “You’re a bloody minx.”

After some very enjoyable quality time as husband and wife, Harry and Ginny manage to pry themselves from the comfort of their bed and dress for polite company. Just as they’re about to reach the top of the stairs, Pamela and Kate emerge from their own room, looking well rested and chatting about the weather conditions.

Pamela waves, cheery, while Kate affords them a short nod in greeting. “Did you see the weather?”

Harry flushes, because they most definitely did not bother with much of anything but each other that morning, and Ginny pinches his side. “We had the curtains drawn, wanted to sleep in a bit.”

“Surprise snowstorm swept in last night,” Kate says, “We flicked on the wireless, the roads are all closed.”

Pamela leads the way and the couples continue downstairs. “At least Fran said we’ve got an excess of food laid up for the weekend. I wouldn’t mind staying in all cozied up in front of the fire and eating my weight in cheese.”

Ginny grins, “We’ll get along just fine, Pamela.”

Breakfast is as decadent as dinner the night before, Harry could swear they ate three dozen eggs between them, and the conversation is easy despite the niggling presence of Piers. Perhaps Ginny’s shag away the rage plan is viable.

Over a final pot of tea, the couples make plans to grab the sliders, sleds, and whatever else Dudley and Fran rented for the weekend and take advantage of the fresh snowfall.

Once everyone’s bundled, they troop out into the bright wintery morning and fall on the gear like excited children. Almost immediately, Ginny snatches up two sliders and tosses one toward Harry’s chest. “Let’s see how fast you are, old man.”

“Again, barely a year older,” Harry says, mock serious, and trots towards the slope.

He’s getting settled in, ready to push off when a red and grey blur flashes past him followed by the ever familiar sound of Ginny’s competitive cackle.

She’s a third of the way down the hill when Harry pushes off with a muttered swear. The icy wind bites at his exposed cheeks, his throat dry from laughing in the cold, eyes streaming. Somehow, in the span of a few minutes, Ginny always manages to make him forget his cares and feel like a kid again. Maybe the kid he never really got to be, save a few precious memories.

When he reaches the bottom, Ginny’s already propped her slider in the snow next to her hip, eyes alight with teasing glee. “Welcome, you made it just in time for my birthday.”

Tossing his sled aside, Harry takes a few quick strides - slightly slowed by the drag of snow drifts - and tackles Ginny to the ground in an expert move, perfected in the training room with Ron. Hovering just above her, his hat lost in the fray, Harry accuses, “You are a cheat.”

“Opportunist,” Ginny corrects, gloved hands splayed to the sides so she’s positioned like some sort of gingerbread man. “We never set rules.”

“Because since the dawn of time, races assume opponents will begin at the same place and time.”

“Don’t go all high and mighty, you pulled that out of your arse.”

“How would you know?” Harry says, rolling off and tugging Ginny to her feet, “I have layers.”

“Hermione Granger-Weasley is the only human in existence who says that and actually knows she’s correct.”

Harry dips his head, allowing it, and they begin the trek back to the top as Kendra and Jamie speed down on a two person toboggan. He leans down to swipe up his lost cap and continues, “Next time, I’ll come prepared with documentation.”

“You’d better, I’m a hard arse who takes no shite,” Ginny replies, jutting her chin and pausing to pose dramatically.

“Don’t make me take you down again.”

“Like you could,” Ginny challenges.

“Is that a dare?” Harry asks, stepping closer as they reach the hilltop.

She eyes him speculatively so Harry’s body thrums with possibility, before shaking her head. “No. Not yet. I want to draw this out - make it all the better for waiting.”

Harry’s brows rise and before he can think, he’s got a snowball formed in his hand and flying right for his wife’s face.

Swiping the flakes from her cheeks, Ginny’s eyes narrow. “You’ll live to regret that move, Potter.”

And then it’s an all out war, a blur of snowy projectiles that somehow draws in the other couples.

They split into two groups sharing the same battlefield, their clothes wetter with each throw and snowball sneaking through the defense, it’s not long before time slides away from everyone’s minds. A growling belly (Ginny’s) announces it’s turned lunch time and heartily laughing the battered troops march arm in arm back into the cabin, completely and utterly ready for the chef’s finest.

However, in lieu of the fresh and delicious aromas of nicely cooked food there’s only a disappointing smell of...nothing? The wood in the fireplace has all but burned, the back door was left ajar, the cold winter air creeping inside, and there’s conspicuously no frenzied rumblings from the kitchen.

Still they shrug it off and hop the stairs two at a time to change into something dry before hypothermia kicks in and terminates their small weekend getaway, high key hoping that a steamy meal will be enthroned upon the table when they return.

“Something’s off,” Ginny comments as her first layer of clothing flies away into the continuously growing pile of wet clothes. “And I don’t just mean your right throw.”

“I’ll let you know I’m taking offence on that,” Harry scoffs, wrestling his thermalware off and over his ankles. His face turns serious once he’s gotten rid of the sodden cloth, “But yeah, I’ve the same feeling.”

“What’s on your mind, then?” Ginny looks at him, pensive and weary.

“If my gut is right, then our pleasant weekend ended with the cook’s conspicuous disappearance,” Harry scratches at his stubble and walks over to Ginny, puts his arms around her. “But let’s wait and see how it plays out.”

Ten minutes later they’re both tucked into woolen hand-knit sweaters, winter jackets cozily fitted around them. Harry’s boots scratch the surface of the dining room as he stops to take in the scene. Three couples, six people looking a little bit uneasy, a little bit grey-faced. Never a good omen, this feeling of uneasiness sweeping up an entire room and slowly sowing seeds of panic and despair.

“The food’s still not here,” Piers smartly observes and Harry would very much like to serve him a knuckle sandwich for his efforts. Still, he does have to admit there are other more pressing issues he must attend to first.

“Erm - Harry,” Dudley calls uncomfortably from one of the armchairs next to the windows. “Do you have any...tips?”

Harry’s mind is buzzing with not just tips, but theories. It’s always done things on its own, his mind, first creating a mental map of the scene, filling it with dots to connect them later, when the blur disappears and everything takes shape.

Behind smudgy round glasses, his eyes focus on a spot next to Dudley’s left ear and through the window, somewhere outside. Suddenly, he remembers the door being ajar and the chill that greeted them once they returned to the cabin.

In three quick strides, Harry’s at the door, his deft fingers prodding at the floor.

“Harry?” Ginny asks and he knows she’s caught up on his train of thought.

“Someone was here,” he states.

“What? How?” Three pairs of voices sound from all over the room.

“Someone was here and they’ve been very careful to mop their footprints before they left,” Harry explains as he makes his way towards the kitchen, Ginny and Dudley in tow. There are pots and pans everywhere, as though a hurricane had snuck in while they were outside and wreaked havoc. All three rush through the kitchen back door and -

“Shite,” Harry swears under his breath. Before him, a body rests peacefully in the snow. If not for the unusual stance of the arms, the loll of its head to one side, one would be tricked into thinking that the cook was taking a quick kip before supper.

“Oh no - oh, Harry, is he dead? He’s dead, right?” Dudley panics, his face paper white.

“Dudley, go lock all doors and tell everyone to not leave the sitting room under any circumstances,” Harry instructs and shakes his cousin twice when there’s no response. “Understood?”

Dudley lamely nods his blonde head and stumbles back inside the cabin.

“Ginny,” Harry focuses his attention on his wife, composed and ready three steps behind him. “Try and call the muggle police. Ring until someone picks up.”

She’s much faster than Dudley to comprehend and speeds through the door with a quick nod of acknowledgement.

As Harry squats down to examine and think, his mind begins its wild zigzag trajectory once more. Who could have done it? Why? What’s their MO? Why the cook and not somebody else?

“Bloody hell!” Ginny’s voice distinctly punctures through to him and then she’s back, blazing look on her face and breath uneven. “The phone lines’ve been knocked out by the blizzard.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, heavy boots stomping their way back inside. It seems like there’s never a day of rest for Auror Potter, not even this far from the Wizarding World.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Harry’s growl startles Piers, his hand on the door handle and cap askew atop his head.

“Home. I want none of this -”

“You’re staying right here.”

Piers’ face turns from white to scarlett then back to white in under three seconds, probably a new world record, before he finds the courage to ask, “Says who?”

Sadly for Harry and his well prepared fists, it’s Dudley who gets to them first and provides a stuttered answer, “Piers, erm - I know I never told you before, but, yeah, Harry’s with...Scotland Yard.”

Everyone’s silent, the kind of silent that indicates fear, not comprehension of the general situation. Harry’s well acquainted with it, walking into rooms where the quiet feels as heavy as chains more often than not.

He’s photographed enough to hold as evidence, careful that each of his actions could pass as a muggle detective’s under any circumstance. For now, he knows the fall was definitely not a fall, but a deliberate push. He also reckons the possibility of another murder is fairly limited, but still keeps a close eye on everyone.

“Anyone fancy a cheese sandwich?” Ginny claps her knees as she gets up from one of the chairs, tone as cheery and natural as she can manage.

Immediately, Dudley’s wife, then Pamela jump to their feet, breaking the strange trance they’ve all fallen into since the body’s been found.

Harry takes it as cue to disappear for a few moments and alert the cavalry, so to say.

“I’ll be upstairs for a minute to send word to a friend,” he casually addresses Dudley, emerald green eyes clearly saying more than his mouth does: make sure nobody leaves.

He climbs the stairs two at a time and shuts the door behind him, casting Muffliato before anything else. Harry concentrates fast and hard on the day’s events, he imagines Ron receiving the news.

“Expecto Patronum!” The liquid silver shapes into a stag, hooves trotting on the wooden floor before it takes flight to Ron, Harry’s message safely guarded with it.

“Think, Harry, think,” he urges himself as he paces the room, five steps ahead and another five back. “You’ve arrived here by car, so have the others, and maybe...so has the chef? And the killer?”

Clinging on to that last thought, Harry runs to the parking lot, wand clenched tightly in his fist inside his windbreaker. He rushes past an infuriated Piers, past the clink of the cutlery on plates as the rest munch on Ginny’s patented cheese sandwiches and out the door, nearly flying over the landing.

A nasty curse and a stomp of the boot against the ice and snow, and Harry’s almost never been so displeased to notice that the instinct telling him the murderer must’ve taken the chef’s car and scattered was correct. And along with the car, most of what would have been his lead vanished as well.

Frustrated, he shakes the snow off from his clothes and shoes, then slumps on the couch next to Ginny with a sigh and a ruffle of his perpetually messy hair.

“You don’t look too chuffed, Potter,” Piers remarks with a scoff. “Should we take it that your little investigation has failed?” Harry is aware that he should exert some self control, but his childhood bully seems a bit too pleased with himself to let it slip.

“The only thing you’ll be taking if you don’t shut it is my foot up your -”

“Harry needs more time before he draws his conclusions,” Ginny squeezes her husband’s leg, then turns to him. “Perhaps I could assist, right, dear?”

And she’s right, he’s got to focus and ignore foul-mouthed idiots for the time being. A man’s been killed.

“Better check the cook’s room before we lose more evidence,” Harry agrees.

They leave the room perfectly aware of the many pairs of eyes following them, not fully trusting, yet not entirely certain they can’t trust them. It’s that gut feeling that tells Harry once again that the killer is not longer amongst them.

“That bad, huh?” Ginny asks from the corner of her mouth as they stop in front of the chef’s room, door closed and locked.

“Fairly,” Harry admits, looking around to be certain no one’s watching before he removes his wand from its pocket and taps the handle. “Car’s gone, as is the murderer.”

“Brilliant,” Ginny mutters as she pushes the door open with her shoulder and steps inside.

The room looks untouched - a wee bit too untouched and clean for Harry’s taste.

“Someone’s been pretty keen on leaving no trace, I reckon,” he states and, after memorising each detail of the scene, takes out the camera and snaps enough photos to add to the ever growing case file. All a far cry from the playful snowy snaps he’d imagined taking home this weekend.

A quick search through the wardrobe and desk drawers shows that the chef’s a long term employee of the cabin: there’s piles of clothes and stacks of paperwork, paychecks and logs in one agenda.

“He used to be here more often than not, wasn’t he?” Ginny asks, her voice trailing off at the end.

“Seems so...But then -”

“Yeah?”

“Then the killer must be a person who knew him well. Well enough to find him here, and his car, his room, his schedule,” Harry finishes running both hands through his disheveled hair.

“A peer?”

“Or a friend.”

“Dunno how many friends this one’s got, there’s no personal mail, no postcards, no notes around,” Harry points back towards the desk.

“Or just someone who knows things about other people,” Ginny shrugs, a frown disrupting entire constellations of freckles on her face.

There’s silence before Harry’s eyes widen as he remembers a short scene from the previous day, and he slaps his forehead, palm pressing hard and quick against the old scar.

“What?” Ginny asks, brown eyes locked with green.

“You’re brilliant, you are!” Harry grins toothily, brings her close and kisses her hard on the lips.

“I mean usually I’d say where’s the lie, but why am I brilliant right now?” She responds, slightly amused, slightly taken by surprise.

“Muggles put their mail on hold when they leave for longer periods of time.”

“Oh?”

“Therefore mailmen are informed about the recipient's departure so they know when to start delivering mail again,” Harry continues his explanation as he paces around the room, a habit he’s developed and honed over long work hours of thinking, thinking, thinking.

“You mean to say that -” Ginny gasps, eyes fixed intently on Harry.

“That the mailman must’ve been the killer, yeah.”

“Merlin’s sweet - why would they do it?”

“That I do not know yet,” Harry ceases his pacing, a smirk lingering on the corner of his lips. “Ron should be able to tell us once he’s done searching the chef’s house and secured the stolen car from wherever our suspect’s abandoned it.”

“How inappropriate is it that I believe you’ve never been hotter?” She grins, steps closer to him, one hand pushing her hair back as the other sneaks beneath his sweater.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Harry breathes against her lips, hands cupping her face before she presses him against the wall and kills him slowly with tender kisses.

Ginny pauses, pulling away, “Perhaps we continue this not in the murder victim’s bedroom?”

“Affirmative.”

Ron takes the lead back in London, getting together with actual detectives from Scotland Yard and somehow getting a combined magic and muggle task force approved for the case, despite it’s heavily muggle leaning. When Harry says as much, Ginny grins. “Ron’s the second most persuasive Weasley, so I’m not shocked.”

Harry chuckles as he tugs his trousers back on and flops back against the rumpled bedclothes. “And who takes first place?”

“Ravishing girl with amazing quidditch skills who just moments ago persuaded one Harry James Potter to - ”

Grabbing her hand as she passes the bedside, Harry pulls Ginny’s hand until she’s splayed diagonally across his chest. She doesn’t hesitate, simply propping herself on her arm and smirking down at him. “Do I embarrass you?

“You do a lot of things to me, Ginevra Molly Potter, but embarass is not one of them.”

Fingertips teasing along his cheekbones, Ginny smiles, soft. “I s’pose I should take the compliment for what it is and not bring up a certain ill-advised Valentine’s card?”

“Young me was surprised, adult me thinks ‘adorable,’”

“Quoting ourselves, are we?” Ginny teases, before pushing up from the bed and stepping into her trainers. “Now let’s head down there before the situation turns any more Agatha Christie than it already has.”

Sighing, Harry rocks himself into a sitting position and grabs for his dry boots. “Aye, if we don’t figure out the food situation soon, Piers will start eating people.”

“I have no doubt.”

Harry’s prediction is proven wrong - slightly - since it seems Piers’ motivation for food manifested itself, but not in a cannibalistic fashion.

When they reach the foot of the staircase, the first thing Harry notes, following Piers’ conspicuous absence, is the heady scent of something definitely beef-based. He says as much to Ginny and she chuckles. “What a detective you are.”

“Never said I was a food expert,” Harry laughs, catching Dudley’s eye. His cousin seems to be on high alert, perhaps waiting on pins and needles since the Potters disappeared upstairs. And perhaps he should feel sorry for keeping Dudley waiting while Ginny had her way with him, but the beauty that is Ginny after a Detective Harry episode coupled with about sixteen years of childhood bullying alleviate Harry’s guilt.

Before they can rejoin the group, Dudley strides towards Harry. “So - what’ve you found?”

Ideally, the whole group won’t need to be kept up to speed with every detail. Especially since once they get some actual leads, he really can’t keep the lines of information flowing. Ginny, as usual, seems to cotton on to his train of thought and excuses herself. “I’ll go give the others a little bit of info, see if they noticed anything.”

Dudley leads Harry toward a little study off the front of the cabin and presses the door closed with a click. “Sorry. Should’ve thought of this earlier.”

Harry props himself on the lip of the ornately carved desk and Dudley sighs into one of the tufted chairs. Once Dudley seems to have settled himself, Harry sets a few charms around the room and begins catching him up to speed. “I got in touch with Ron - you know him from the wedding - and he’s got with Scotland Yard so they’re working things from that end. Ginny and I secured the necessary areas as much as possible and I’ve done my best to take crime scene photos so the police will have something to work with once the snow clears.”

“I doubt they’ll find anything you’ve missed,” Dudley states, without a hint of hesitation.

Honestly, if you’d asked Harry ten years ago if Dudley would ever say something so complimentary so easily, he’d have laughed in your face.

Harry runs his palms over his trousers and purses his lips in thought. “The plan from here is to keep everyone safe - it seems this was a specific crime, not some slasher waiting in the wind to come pick us off. Still, I’d like everyone to stay in groups and most definitely indoors after dark.”

After a moment, Harry releases the charms around the room and guides Dudley to the door. As they’re about to join the group, Dudley pauses and chuckles wryly. “You know I really did think this would be a nice holiday for you.”

“Trouble finds me, Big D.”

Dinner is a surprisingly enjoyable affair where Harry discovers Piers became a chef, of all things. At work, he’s probably like the real life version of the angry chef on the telly. As Harry and Ginny claim a couple of seats, he leans in close to murmur, “Piers cooking - he’ll probably poison mine, or at least spit in it.”

Ginny snorts, “I’d hope for poison; have you seen his dental hygiene habits?”

Regardless, he managed to whip up a pretty delicious meal - butternut squash soup, steaks all around, garlic mashed potatoes, and some sort of mixed fruit pie. Everyone’s pretty quiet, light chatter about passing salt and compliments to the chef. Though using that particular phrasing generally earns a wince or two, given the state of their actual chef.

Once the tea’s been drunk to the dregs and sweet seconds have been had, it’s Kate who finally works up the nerve to ask Harry about the investigation.

“So Scotland Yard is investigating?”

Harry fiddles with his teacup, righting it in the saucer, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve forwarded all the information we have as of yet to my partner in London, yes.”

Jamie props his elbows on the table, leaning in closer. “What sort of information, then?”

It’s in this instance, Harry finds himself grateful for the bureaucratic nonsense that exists in his line of work. The day has been long, somewhat disturbing as murder is wont to be, and Harry really doesn’t trust his ability to keep his temper if he’s subjected to another interrogation courtesy of Piers. “I feel comfortable saying it appears we have a homicide on our hands and that our safety is best served by remaining in groups, preferably indoors.”

Piers harrumphs, likely chafing at the idea of Harry being in charge, and Ginny bites back on a laugh. Troublemaker.

Pushing his plate away, Harry continues, “I’ll do another sweep of the cabin, inside and outside, once everyone heads upstairs.”

Fran smiles. “Thanks for doing all this on your holiday, Harry.”

“Well we do pay his salary, after all. It’s his job,” Piers grumbles.

Harry, in a feat his younger self would have either found admirable or deeply disappointing, does not answer back with a witty rejoinder or the business end of his wand. Perhaps Ginny will make good on her ‘shag the frustration away’ promises. It’s worked so far - Piers is still alive after all.

Luckily, everyone’s similarly drained from their rather harrowing day and head off to bed without Harry ushering them upstairs like an overworked nanny. Though it does sound a bit like a sitcom - ‘Harry the Harried Nanny.’

Ginny insists on trailing him as ‘back up’ offering commentary on his techniques. Generally, it’s a mix of actual, helpful assistance and notes on which search practices are most effective in featuring his ‘cute arse.’

Overall, by the time they return to their bedroom, Harry’s satisfied the house is secure (courtesy of a few carefully placed charms) and highly unsatisfied in other areas. Though Ginny seems similarly inclined, if her seeking hands and very quick fingers are any indication. And if Harry was in any way confused by the signals, Ginny’s veritable pounce once he presses the door closed would have definitely provided some clarity.

Either way, Harry and Ginny enjoy a rather lovely evening on the cosy rug in front of the fireplace before drifting off to sleep.

Harry wakes to the disappointing sound of Ginny in the shower, alone. Though the tragedy is one easily remedied, if he acts quickly enough.

Quietly, while Ginny’s still warbling her way through some new pop ditty that played about four hundred times on the way to the cabin, Harry brushes his teeth in order to present his lovely, soaked, naked wife with a minty fresh mouth. She’s only just started her routine - he can smell as Ginny works her hair into a lather with the flowery shampoo she favors.

After rinsing, Harry pulls the shower door open with a pop and slips in behind Ginny. She barely startles, settling back against him as he winds his arms around her middle. “You didn’t wake me up, Mrs. Potter.”

“You worked quite hard last night.”

“You mean yesterday?” Harry asks, nipping at her jaw.

“I said what I meant,” Ginny drawls, twisting in his embrace and letting her palms slip over his arms, slippery from the spray.

And while things start fairly innocent - Ginny providing her excellent shampooing skills in a completely selfless manner - they end up with a mutually satisfying encore to last night’s performance. Twice.

Life can’t be all fun and games, sadly, and once they’re dressed and ready for the day, Harry sends another Patronus to check in with Ron.

Ron’s answer is short, “Got your fireplace hooked up to the network, jump on in a few.”

While Ginny secures the bedroom from prying eyes, Harry rifles through their luggages and finds his emergency pouch of floo powder.

After shouting into the flames, Harry finds the worn rug of his and Ron’s shared office swirling into focus. “Alright, Ronnie?”

“Why do you do that to me?”

“‘Cause I l o ve you,” Harry says with a grin.

Ginny saunters over and squats down next to Harry. “Making a move on my brother before my very eyes.”

“What can I say? Those gangly limbs and ocean blue eyes send me .”

“I am not - whatever. Back to business,” Ron grunts, “We followed your hunch and looked into the mail carriers who’ve had that route, or anybody involved with mail processing in the area. A few of them have some minor infractions on their records. Not too much on that front at the mo’.”

“Anything on the chef himself?” Harry asks.

“Ah,” Ron says, shuffling through the file he placed at his knee, “We found an odd series of deposits into his bank account. Not overly large sums but untraceable cash.”

“You think blackmail?” Ginny asks.

Harry hums his agreement in the question and Ron nods, “That’s our best guess, so far.”

“Keep us posted.”

“Ditto.”

Just before Harry disconnects the floo, Ron pauses, “Be safe you two, eh?”

Ginny salutes, “Right-o, Ronnie.”

He groans, “I hate you.”

The flames die down and Harry pushes to his feet, waiting for Ginny to follow suit. “We’ll head to breakfast?”

Laughing, Ginny pauses with her fingers on the handle, “Ready to be interrogated?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“This is ridiculous,” Piers bursts mid bite. “Are we expected to sit here in silence like well behaved children and ask no questions?”

“I don’t believe that’d be possible since you’ve never been well behaved,” Harry volleys right back around his sandwich.

“I should have beaten your skinny arse when I had the opportunity,” Piers throws his chair back, ready for battle. However, he quickly starts to look rather confused as to why he needed to get up, gently places his chair back at the table and, flashing an odd kind of smile, walks outside to build a snowman all by himself.

His wife sounds very uncomfortable at best as she delivers a hefty explanation before running after him, “Anxiety brings out the child in him. Excuse me.”

A quick look around the table helps Harry find the culprit in the form of a chuckling Ginny, even though, to her credit, she did try to hid it behind a paper napkin. He’ll remember to thank her properly later.

“Is there anything you’re able to tell us, Harry?” Kendra breaks the awkwardness, her eyes apologetic.

“Or if we’ll be able to leave today?” Jaime joins in, hopeful. “The storm’s cleared out, the roads should be alright now.”

Harry pats the corners of his mouth with a napkin before he calmly speaks, “I should be able to explain in about 30 minutes.” Somewhat of a flex, he knows, but he’s always worked flawlessly with Ron and their combined efforts in solving a case have never failed them.

“Meet me here at 10 sharp,” he addresses the befuddled audience in a true Hercule Poirot manner before he makes his way back upstairs, to his and Ginny’s room, where - if all went well - an owl should be waiting for him.

“Brilliant as always, mate,” Harry grins as he lays eyes on a snowy owl awaiting his arrival on the other side of the window.

Rapidly he lets her inside and scratches the feathers at the back of her head, then unties the scroll of parchment secured around her leg.

“Expected as much,” he grunts, takes out a pen from his pocket and scribbles a reply on the back of the paper.

As soon as the owl takes flight, Harry starts pacing the room, putting order to his thoughts and finishing the last of the puzzle. When he’s finally satisfied with the conclusions he’s drawn, Harry steps out into the hallway and back into the sitting room. The final moment’s arrived.

Seven pairs of eyes are upon him (albeit Piers’ is everywhere, still mildly confused) and Harry wastes no more time.

“There’s no mystery that the chef’s been murdered,” he starts in force. “Thus, the real question has been a natural one: who committed the murder? Followed by the why, the reason, the incentive to commit crime,” Harry confidently states, then pauses. “I am now able to tell you who and why.”

Startled gasps and concentration fill the room. Harry looks every one of the seven persons in the eye, offering enough space and time for any possible admissions, one of the first techniques he learned while training as an Auror. When no one speaks, he sighs and continues dutifully.

“Our chef’s been blackmailed,” Harry says all of a sudden. “He has been blackmailed for quite some time, up until the money was no longer enough and the truth was about to come out. In this sense, it is somewhat ironic that the murderer was not one of us -” relieved sighs echo all around - “but the mailman. The cook’s mailman, to be precise.” Harry finishes rather pleased and waits for a wave of questions to erupt, as it always happens.

Sure enough, everybody puts forward their own question which requires an answer and Harry allows enough time for the tension to disappear and the calm to return.

He raises one hand to signal that silence is once again needed, then continues, tone professional and frown between his dark eyebrows, “As most of us do, the chef had a habit of putting his mail on hold while he was away from home, therefore informing the mailman of the exact period of his absences. It appears that it is not unheard of that mailmen seize the opportunity to make a bit of profit from the information they are fed by the unsuspecting. And by profit I mean stealing from the person’s house while they are away.”

More gasps and whispers, followed by reactions of anger at the thought that an institution they’ve been taught to respect and trust could actually betray their trust.

“At one point, however, our chef had returned home earlier than planned, only to find the mailman inside his house, helping himself to something or other. And threatened to go to the police, hence spiralling into a nasty case of blackmail and death threats. Yesterday, our culprit became restless and decided to finish the affair, knowing full well that his victim would not be alone. How? He took it upon himself to deliver Dudley’s generous invitations - as he had been doing for awhile with any correspondence involving this venue, always at watch for the best opportunity to strike.”

At this, Dudley’s ears turn red, his palms fly to hide his face.

“So he takes a ride up here, waits until there is no one else inside and pushes the chef out the window to make it look like a fall. Unfortunately for him, when he stole the cook’s car, he did not take into account that the snow might block the roads,” Harry grins. “As I’ve just been informed, it’s how my colleagues found him, the car stuck in a pile of ice and snow on an empty road.”

“Blimey,” Dudley whistles, his eyebrows shooting so high up they almost blend in with his fringe.

“What - erm, what happens next?” A distressed Palma dares ask.

“A team from Scotland Yard is on its way. They’ll need to question everyone here, then you should be free to go enjoy the rest of the weekend,” Harry smiles good naturedly, understanding fully well everybody’s hurry to be out and far away from the cabin as possible. Murder and mystery don’t mix well with winter holidays - or with any other kind of holidays, really.

His eyes dart to Ginny, who’s smiling at him, all proud and loving. And he returns the feeling, every single bit of it.

“Harry Potter saves the day yet again,” Ginny teases on their way home, her fingertips caressing the skin on Harry’s arm as he drives.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, my dear Watson,” he winks.

“Sounds to me like you should thank this dear Watson,” she suggests, a cheeky glint in her eye.

“Oh, I plan on doing so.”

As the words roll off his tongue, his hands grab the wheel tighter and swerve right, off from the main road and up a forest path. As soon as the car disappears from view, heavily hidden by the thick patch of snow white trees, Harry turns the ignition off and maneuvers his seat to lean back.

A ginger eyebrow rises in question and Harry grins wide.

“I’m feeling rather rebellious after this weekend,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “You were right, it was good for me.”

“Aha,” Ginny smirks. “I see,” she bites her lower lip as she slips from her seat and climbs up her husband’s lap, straddling him as her fingers scratch at the back of his head. “Then I better show you that,” she stops, freckled fingers curling around the hem of her sweater, slowly taking it off, “I did save that little black thing especially for you.” Ginny winks and Harry turns to mush.

Before long, there are no clothes left to tear off. There’s just them, hidden away by the steamy windows of a rented car parked at the edge of a snowy forest.

At the end of the day, Harry does specialise in finding the silver lining, even on a weekend filled with murder and mayhem.

#hinny #hinny fic #harry potter #ginny weasley #harry x ginny #auror!harry #sultry hinny #murder mystery #noir #itsblissfuloblivion writes #gryffindormischief #fightfortherightsofhouseelves #power duo back at it!#get hyped

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