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taetaesbaebaepsae · 5 years

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Hellfire

A/n: SO this is wild I know but this is Taemin from Brimstone but reader in Hellfire is succubus!reader from Pomegranate Seeds. They have a bit of a past, you see. This serves as both Taemin’s backstory AND a sequel to Pomegranate Seeds, no I don’t know why I’m like this either.

Summary: Even demons have a past, but Taemin didn’t expect you to show up in his present with a human boy on your heels and your horns shaved down.

Warnings: WELL OKAY HERE WE GO, edging (m. receiving), masturbation (male), needy desperate sub!JK under the effects of succubus pheromone withdrawal, bipanic!Jungkook, dom!Taemin (who is a switch but in this particular circumstance dominant), threesome (mmf), oral sex (m. receiving), talk of overstimulation and orgasm denial, reader is a real bratty sub as one would expect from a succubus, she’s living her best life being dominated by Taemin and dominating JK we stan, big angst tho idk fam

Word Count: 4235

Taemin doesn’t think of you. At least, he tries not to, because he finds it distasteful, the way his throat aches, the way his mind goes all fuzzy...it’s unbecoming of demon royalty, having things like longing.

But he isn’t really given a choice when you pop into his chambers, cursing and stumbling.

“What the fuck, I---oh. Taemin.”

Your voice goes flat when you say his name and he tries to pretend it doesn’t affect him.

Your hair is all mussed, face flushed, and was that....nubs of the horns you’d been growing?

“Ah, my Persephone finally returns, yeah?” He says slowly, hoping the smile spreading across his face was a smirk and not as wistful as it felt.

When you flip your hair back over your shoulder a memory, unbidden, flashes through his mind.

“Ah...not like that, Persephone.”

“Will you stop calling me that? That’s not my fucking-” Your words were cut off when he wraps his fist in your hair, tugging hard, and a whimper leaves your mouth instead.

“You want me to let you do it wrong? Do you want to marry me after all, sweetheart? Is that why you won’t listen?” He hissed down into your ear, nipping at your earlobe when he pulls away.

You’d been bent over his chair, the one you mockingly called “his throne,” your ass in the air and him buried inside you, still, watching the line of your spine when you rocked back against him.

“Fuck you,” you bit back, and rolled your hips, this time the right way, the way he’d taught you, and he gritted his teeth to keep from moaning at the way your cunt gripped his cock.

“That’s it, Persephone,” he breathes instead. “That’s my girl.”

Taemin shakes his head to rid himself of the memory and pats his knee.

"Come and sit. Tell your betrothed all about your adventures."

You scowl at him, and he hates how it makes his heart feel light, the way you sit on the floor instead, always stubborn.

"I've been working, but ...I fucked up, Taemin. Will you...will you help me?"

You're looking up at him with those wide eyes again and he's almost angry, suddenly. He's almost angry because isn’t that all he's ever done?

You should be in his bed, should be his wife but he'd taught you how to tease and tempt instead, taught you a trade so that your father would let you be independent.

He'd taught you how to leave him and never come back, and now you return to him smelling like humanity and gazing up at him with those big eyes of yours, asking for more help?

In the end, he leans forward in his chair and kisses the tip of your nose.

"I'll do what I can, Persephone. Tell me what you've done."

In the end, he listens even when rage is pounding in his ears at your tale, because Lee Taemin, demon prince, whether you wanted him or not, was irrevocably yours.

By the time you're done, his head is pounding.

"So let me get this straight."

You just look up at him expectantly.

"You were supposed to be corrupting an innocent."

You nod.

"And you did, but what, you just let him keep his soul?"

You nod again and Taemin takes a deep breath.

"Why?"

You scrunch up your nose and Taemin is an odd mix of smitten and infuriated.

"I dunno. I...I love him."

He isn't prepared for the pain that rockets through him at your words, and he masks it with a low chuckle.

"Persephone ...love? With a human?"

He tsks at you and you stand up.

"Fine. If you're just gonna make fun of me, I'll ask Jimin."

His hand flies out to take your wrist. "Don't be ridiculous. Your father will never let you past the river Styx with an incubus."

You look up at him and the panic in your eyes hurts more than anything you could have said.

"Taemin…"

"I know. There isn't much time. How long has it been now? A day? A strong one can probably go a week without-"

"He's not. He's not strong, he's….he was really an innocent. He won't last the week, Taemin, please-"

You clutch at his shirt and your hands on his skin makes his breath catch. "I'll do anything. I'll…. I'll marry you, if that's what you want, just take me to help him."

He looks down at you for a moment, searching your face and he hates himself for considering it, just for a moment.

"Y/n. Stop it. Such behavior is unbecoming for a princess, you know."

He takes your hands from his chest and holds them in your own.

"I'll take you. But he won't allow it now. We'll have to give it another day, make him think you're obeying his wishes."

You drop your hands, defeated. "Okay," you say quietly. "Okay, but I'm not sleeping in your bed."

"Still can't control yourself around me, Persephone?" He teases, mouth twisted in a bitter grin.

You look up at him, wide eyed. "Probably not," you admit, and your words shoot heat down his spine.

"I'll sleep on the floor. You take the bed." He says shortly, turning to get a blanket.

You let out a sound of protest and he smirks back at you over his shoulder.

"I want my sheets to smell like you again."

You roll your eyes but he can see the relief on your face, and he spends a long moment in the linen closet trying to control his breathing around the tightness in his chest

Later that night, he can hear you shifting, tossing and turning in bed.

"Taemin?" You call softly.

He lets out a long breath before answering. "Yes?"

"I can't sleep. Will you sing to me?"

It's incredible how a heart can shatter through without crumbling entirely, because he's thinking of a hundred times you'd said those words to him, remembers singing low in your ear with his arms wrapped tight around your waist, remembers how you'd sigh and relax against his chest.

It's been years since he's let himself think of the lullaby he sang to you all those years ago, but he finds he remembers every word, and you find sleep long before he does, his shattered heart still thumping stubbornly in his chest.

Jungkook watches you arguing with your father with his lip caught between his teeth.

You're pacing around the room and speaking in...Latin?

He wants to go to you, to soothe you,but you've warned him not to touch you when you're angry and he'd learned the hard way with a burn on his palm from trying to take your hand during a fight.

You whirl around to face him, suddenly, and there's panic in your eyes.

He reaches out to you, burns be damned but you disappear through the floor, a burning circle where you'd stood on the tile.

It takes a few hours before he panics, calling your phone over and over and it going straight to voicemail.

He tells himself it's just a night with your dad, and the fact that it's probably in hell is fine because you're a demon and...wow had it been a wild year.

Jungkook doesn't know what to do, so he goes to work out like always but in another few hours he's exhausted, muscles trembling and still anxious.

Anxious and….horny.

It'd been months, and you'd think he'd be used to it, the heat coiling in his stomach, his skin flushing everywhere, the ache right up his cock, but he doesn't know when you'll be back.

He ends up sitting on the couch, playing Mario Kart shirtless with a raging hard on, when a man appears in his living room, burning another circle on the floor.

He blinks and looks up at him.

"Hello," the man says, and Jungkook wonders if it's a rule that all demons must be ridiculously attractive.

"Um. Hi."

"Jungkook, is it? I'm Taemin. Persephone speaks highly of you."

The way he drawls that sounds like Taemin doesn't agree and Jungkook swallows and somehow none of this is helping his boner.

"Persephone?"

The man smiles, and it's a bit wicked, a lot like yours, actually. "Ah. You know her as Y/n. Persephone is ...a bit of a petname, I suppose. In any case, my betrothed is worried sick about you and I can't sneak her past her father just yet, so I'm checking in."

"Your... your what now?" He swallows again and boy, he doesn't like that feeling, a rock in his gut alongside the lust.

Taemin waves his hand as if to dismiss him. "You seem relatively healthy."

"Yeah I'm... I'm fine." Jungkook stutters, and Taemin perches on the edge of the coffee table, leaning forward.

"Are you sure? I can help, if necessary."

"I'm…. I'm okay." Jungkook gasps a little, and Taemin chuckles low in his throat.

"You sure? I taught our girl everything she knows, after all."

Jungkook gapes at him for a moment, stunned. He'd taught you? This guy? This effortlessly gorgeous "betrothed" of yours? His stomach actually hurts, visions of you and Taemin fucking swirling around in his head and it makes him feel jealous and insecure but somehow his skin is even hotter, his cock straining against his sweats.

"I'm sure. Can you...can you tell her I miss her?"

A little smile twists Taemin's full mouth.

"She was right about you being cute, anyway. Well, I think you'll last the night. If things get hairy, I assume you know how to take matters into your own hands, so to speak?"

Jungkook nods vigorously, feeling his face flush even hotter, and the man is gone with an oddly musical laugh that lingers in the air.

He's tugging down his sweats before he can think about it, gasping at the feel of the cool air.

He's fisting his cock and he throws his head back, calling up the way you look bent over the couch arm, how you look back over your shoulder and smirk at him.

Jungkook isn't teasing, he's been hard for hours and he's so close to the edge already but suddenly instead of himself being in his fantasy it's Taemin, full mouth twisted in that smirk, hips snapping into yours, and he lets out a long groan and slows his hand.

He should stop touching himself, he feels almost sick at how fucking gorgeous you two must have been together, it hurts to think of you bouncing on top of Taemin's slight frame but it's also so fucking hot, he can imagine how your face looks, can imagine Taemin fucked you hard, how your ass would jiggle when you were bent over, and he's so close it's almost painful to stop, his cock bouncing off his stomach.

His hand comes away sticky with precum and he's breathing hard

"What the fuck?" He says quietly, and heads to take an ice cold shower.

It doesn't help, and he knows better, knows he needs to come, you've warned him again and again, but when he's lying on his sheets that still smell like you, that scent of black cherries, there's now a burnt cinnamon smell where Taemin had appeared and is that what you'd smelled like together?

He hates it, hates how fucking good it smells and he's bucking into his hand again within moments of lying down, water still beaded on his chest.

Jungkook doesn't sleep, and he can't bring himself to come, going so far as to tighten his fist at the base of his cock, breathing hard, heart pounding against his chestplate, once, twice, three times.

It's almost daylight when the smell grows stronger, and his skin is on fire, head spinning like he'd drunk a case of soju.

His mouth is dry when he tries to speak, and he licks his lips.

"Baby?" It comes out like a hoarse whine, and he hears hushed tones outside his bedroom door.

He lurches up from the bed, dizzy and unbalanced, and pushes the door open to see you standing there with Taemin.

Taemin scoffs.

"Humans. Honestly, Persephone."

You push at Jungkook's chest gently, and he lets out a low moan when he feels your hands on his skin.

He hadn't bothered getting dressed from the shower, and he lies back down obediently, eyes big and glassy.

You stroke his hair back from his face, crooning comforts.

"Y/n. Baby." He breathes, hand back on his cock again, bucking his hips. "Baby, please. Please I can't ...need to come ...need you."

"Oh, my poor Kookie." You lean down to kiss his mouth and he whimpers.

"Please please please," he chants. "Please touch me. It hurts."

"You didn't teach him his breathing exercises?" Taemin's voice booms from the doorway and Jungkook gasps, eyes darting to the doorway and then back to you.

"I did!" You snap, your eyes dark with worry. "Kookie, what happened? Your breathing exercises and...you didn't come? All night?"

He shakes his head quickly. "Tried. Couldn't." He can't seem to string a sentence together, so he takes a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth, like you'd taught him, and it clears his head a little. "Kept thinking too much." His eyes flit to Taemin again, who is standing there looking down at him, face almost blank.

You stroke his cheek and he turns his face into your hand.

"He taught you? He must be so much better than me, yeah? Must be better for you," he says mournfully, and you cup his face and kiss him again.

"No. No. Don't think that way."

Taemin chuckles, covering his mouth, and you stand and shove him outside as Jungkook whimpers.

Taemin smiles at you when you shove him outside because it's easier to be a bastard than to show an inkling of how he feels.

You'd been clutching his hand on the boat across the river Styx, leaned against him and he'd forgotten what that felt like, how it made his chest swell, and now...now with this boy, this human…..

He'd rather you'd put your mouth on the boy's cock right away, it would've hurt less than how wide and worried your eyes were, the soft kisses you'd placed on his mouth.

"You said you'd help me," you cry, chin jutting out defiantly.

"I thought surely you knew what you were doing when it came to this, Persephone," he drawls, but he regrets it when he sees your lip trembling.

He thumbs your bottom lip, voice softening. "Hey. Chin up. You know how to help him."

"I don't even know where to start! And you just made things worse, telling him ..."

"Telling him the truth?"

You snap your mouth closed, eyes searching his face for a moment.

"What happens after? Am I in over my head, Taemin? Should I...should I let him sweat it out so that he can be free of me? I'm no good at this. I failed him. Should I just do as I'm told and marry you?"

His breath catches in his throat and again, he wants to say yes. But your eyes are filled with tears and instead he brushes your hair back to expose one shaved horn and leans down to kiss it gently.

"It hurts, to have them shaved down, yeah? I should know, I had it done to come up here. You wouldn't have done that if being free weren't important to you. Do you think I want some pretty princess to sit on my lap?"

You just look up at him with those wide eyes and he sighs deep in his chest, leans down to kiss your mouth, almost chastely.

"If I wanted easy, I would have never chosen you as my mate, my Persephone. Loving you means letting you go, and I've always known that."

Your brow furrows and he can't help kissing you there, too.

"Taemin…."

He shakes his head, breath hitching in his chest. "I'll help you if you need me, Persephone, but I...the way you look at him…"

His voice breaks and he runs a hand over his face.

"Taemin," you say again, and the way your voice breaks when you say his name makes him feel like he's breathing in broken glass.

"You can do this, you know. You can. You can help him and I'll take the heat from your father. I'll tell him I chose another mate."

"You think I can do this? You think…"

"I think you can do anything," he says, honestly, and he strokes your face once before he takes a step back, before he breaks and begs you to change your mind the way he'd wanted to when you'd left.

"Will you….will you stay? Just until he's better. Just in case-"

He's already nodding, looking down at the ground, and he's grateful when you turn and shut the door so that you don't see the tears spilling down his face.

Jungkook is still lying there, looking at you with those big, doe eyes, and you wipe at your face.

"He….he loves you," he says softly.

You hitch in a breath and sit on the bed next to him. "It's okay," you coo. "I'll help, Kook, I'll-"

He's shaking his head weakly. "Would it be... would it be better? With him? Would you be happier?"

"No. No, stop it." You hitch up your dress and straddle his hips, and he gasps and bucks beneath you when his cock slides through your heat. "I love you. I want you. Want to be here."

He still looks worried, throat working, and you guide him into you, slow, and he clenches his jaw to keep from bucking off the bed.

"I'm happiest here," you breath, and roll your hips.

"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck," he chants and his hands slide up your back as he sits up to angle deeper, bouncing you on his cock and pressing his face into your neck, kissing you there sloppy and open mouthed.

"You smell so good. Is that what you smell like together? Cherries and cinnamon?" He moans against your throat, and you stiffen.

"Kookie-"

He's still bucking beneath you, needing the friction, the need to come taking over every rational thought.

"I want to see," he babbles. "I want to see how he fucks you. I want to know how to fuck you better."

"Jungkook, you're delirious, you-"

He lifts his head to look at you, and his eyes are a bit clearer. "I'll just watch. I'll be good. I'll be so good, Y/n, please…"

"You... you're serious?"

Jungkook nods eagerly, but he whimpers when you move off him and head to the door.

Taemin is already standing there at the doorway, smirking, no trace of the vulnerability you'd seen earlier.

"Baby needs a lesson?"

Taemin had heard the boy's ramblings and his first instinct had been to run, to go back to hell and lick his wounds, because he'd said he would help but this was asking too much.

But you'd left four years ago and he can't stop thinking about how good it felt just holding your hand on the boat.

So he ends up letting you lead him in the boys bedroom where the boy is sitting on the bed, cock standing red and eager, and Taemin did have to commend you for your taste.

What demon wouldn't be swayed with that wide eyed innocence contrasting against the body of a god?

"Will you show me, hyung?" The boy asks, and Taemin raises an eyebrow.

"If that's what you want, human."

Jungkook nods and you make a squeak and Taemin turns to you.

You're stripping off your dress, struggling a bit with getting it over your horns and Taemin laughs a little and tugs it off for you, leaning down to kiss you softly on the mouth.

Jungkook whimpers from the bed, and you try to turn your head to look at him but Taemin holds your chin tight in his hand.

"He asked for this," he says, and you nod.

Taemin kisses you again, harder, slipping his tongue alongside yours, and when you melt against him, he smiles against your mouth.

You're bare now, and his hands slide along the outer swells of your breasts, your hips until you're moaning into his mouth, unbuttoning his slacks and filling your hands with his cock.

Taemin turns his eyes to the boy, who's stroking his cock with an almost pained expression on his face.

Taemin grabs one of your hips with one hand and turns you to bend you over the bed, his other hand on the back of your neck, pressing your face down into Jungkook's lap.

You barely make a sound but Jungkook moans low in his throat when your mouth touches his inner thigh.

"She likes being on top, human. But what she loves is when you make her bottom. She likes being put in her place…. isn't that right, Persephone?"

You moan against Jungkook's thigh until Taemin reaches down to wrap your hair around his fist and tug, making you cry out.

"Yes. Yes, sir."

Jungkook is looking up at him in awe. "Is it….are you always on top? With her?"

Taemin barks out a laugh. "You think I taught her how to seduce you without letting her top? You really are an innocent, yeah?"

Jungkook flushes such a pretty pink that Taemin releases your hair.

"I think you've mastered how to bottom, human. Give her something to do with her mouth. She likes to be used."

Jungkook looks at you with those wide doe eyes until Taemin pushes at the back of your head, and then he seems to snap back to reality, replacing Taemin's hand with his own.

You moan around his cock and Jungkook's head snaps back. "Oh. Oh."

Taemin takes the distraction to move his hand to the base of his cock, guiding himself into you, and oh fucking hell, he'd forgotten how tight you were, how your cunt sucked him in like he belonged there.

He hears you cry out around the human's cock and heat coils in his stomach. He grabs your hips and starts to move, fucking you hard and fast, just like you love, just like he knows you can take, and Jungkook is gasping and bucking his hips, eyes darting between you and Taemin.

It's easier not to think when he's slamming into you, easier not to feel anything but your body, your cunt clenching around him like a vice.

"She's coming around me already. She loves to be treated like a whore just as much as she likes to be treated like a goddess," he says, grunting when you roll your hips back against him and slapping your ass. "Ah, Persephone, be a good girl, yeah?"

You pop off of Jungkook's cock long enough to meet Taemin's eyes over your shoulder and smile. "Never."

Taemin chuckles and presses down on the nape of your neck again. Fuck, he loves you. He loves you and he hopes this is enough. He hopes he can make this memory linger.

One final lesson.

He ignores the tightness in his chest, moves his hips faster as you wrap your lips around the human's cock again.

"If I had more time, I'd show you how she likes to be punished, how to tie her up and make her come over and over until she's trembling."

"Ah, shouldn't we deny her orgasms, hyung?" Jungkook asks, and Taemin lifts an eyebrow, surprised.

"That's one way, but I….I never could deny her anything," he admits, drawing closer to his orgasm, mouth running away with him.

"Next time," Jungkook gasps, making eye contact. "Next time you can show me."

Taemin is too far gone to question what the human means by that, focusing on how your ass jiggles against him, on his cock pumping in and out of you and with Jungkook a moaning mess beneath your skilled tongue, he feels confident his lesson has been helpful.

Taemin empties himself inside you with a long groan of your name and when he looks down at him, Jungkook yelps and shudders, finally finding his release.

"Oh, oh, thank you thank you, Y/n, hyung…" he babbles and collapses on the bed, throwing a forearm over his eyes.

Taemin sighs when he pulls out of you and he buttons his slacks and lifts you onto the bed, padding to the bathroom to wet a cloth.

It's bittersweet, wiping you down, crooning comforts into your ear as you come down, and when you take the cloth from him, he can't bear to watch you do it to the human, distracts himself by going to get water bottles and when he returns, you're holding your arms out to him with your human asleep beside you and his heart seems to crack.

"I should go," he says quietly, and you shake your head.

"Don't. Stay."

In the end, he does, he and your human on either side of you like bookends, because he told Jungkook the truth. He's never been able to deny you anything.

Days later, when he tells Jongin about you, liquor and the newly fallen's own story loosening his tongue, Jongin raises an eyebrow.

"You still love her? After all that?"

A bitter smile twists his mouth.

"What, you think only angels can love unconditionally?"

*****

Up next: Fallen - Jongin’s backstory

#taemin x reader #lee taemin x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #shinee smut #taemin x reader x jungkook #taemin imagine #jungkook imagine #ksmutclub #4k

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wellhellotragic · 5 years

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CSJJ Day 23: A Rather Common Name (1/2)

Whoaaaaa. What’s that? I made words? Trust me, I know, and I’m just as shocked as you all are. It’s been months since I’ve written anything (my poor little book included) but I’m back and hopefully words will continue to come.

I have to send out a huge shout out to everyone at @csjanuaryjoy. Thanks to the mods for hosting this year and bringing everyone together. It’s been so much fun hearing about all of the fics that everyone’s been working on. Now that this is done I’m about to dive into all of them with my greedy little reader eyes. Also a huge shout out to all of the fam in the discord channel. It’s been such a privilege and so much fun to get to know you guys. You all make me laugh daily with the complete randomness. And thank you all for letting me bounce ideas off of you! Also, much love to the wonderful @profdanglaisstuff for chopping this up with her red marker of death (and surprisingly there’s no sarcasm there at all). You’re fantastic for helping me out! <-- See that? No past perfect! 😂

With that super long thank you out of the way, this is a two parter. The back half is coming in a few days on the 28th.

In case AO3 is more your jam

Summary:

She hated him. Okay, maybe hate was a strong word, but he was a dick when they met. So why did she tell him about the apartment for rent in her building? And why did she let him in? Let him climb her walls? Why did she let herself trust him when every man she'd ever been with had betrayed her? Why did she think he'd be different?

And why, despite it all, did she still love him?

The hustle and bustle of Christmas had come and gone in the Nolans’ Boston apartment. The tree had been taken down the day after Santa had delivered his presents, yet the lights remained, strewn up in the living room to keep the festive spirit alive. Mary Margaret was insistent that the lights could be recycled into New Year’s Eve decorations. The only concession given to David’s objections was the removal of the brightly colored bulbs wrapped around the railing of their balcony. Apparently red and green didn’t exactly scream New Year’s.

Instead, they were swapped out for some of the trendier hanging lights that she’d seen in all of the design magazines. The same magazines that usually covered Mary Margaret’s coffee table, something to be left up year round. But on that night, they’d only be admired from the living room. When the invitations went out, Mary Margaret had clearly not expected the massive nor'easter coming through. The news said that five inches had already been dumped on the city with no end in sight.

Mary Margaret had always been the perennial mother hen of the group, throwing all of the holiday parties. Christmas and Thanksgiving had come later, after they’d graduated and decided to become adults, but the New Year’s eve tradition had started back in college, right around the same time that David had appeared. Emma hadn’t missed the connection between her best friend throwing her first ever party, and the fact that said party was for a holiday that traditionally included kissing at midnight.

Not coincidental at all.

At the time, Emma had rolled her eyes, never understanding the build up. Always wondering why everyone bought into the idea that starting the year kissing a drunk loser was supposed to set some amazing standard for the next 365 days. Of course, that had been before Killian. He’d blown into her life like a torrential whirlwind, systematically setting her world on fire even as she felt like she was drowning in the sea.

Emma didn’t date. It was a promise she’d made to herself after Walsh. Twice burned, but never again.

Never let people in and you won’t get hurt.

But Killian, he’d snuck his way in while she wasn’t looking, and for the first time in years, she was ready to take a risk. Ready to open the door to her heart. But that’s the problem with opening doors in the storm. Sometimes the wind is so strong that you get blown away in the process.

There’s been an accident.

With one phone call, her entire world was rocked. The storm around her raged as she stood there at the door, rooted to her spot in sheer agonizing fear. Crippling paralyzing fear. The open shutters an invitation for her desolation. The ground shook, knocking her from where she stood. Windows shattered, shards of glass strewn on the floor around her. One piece aside, her heart stabbed clean through.

New Year’s Eve: 2 Years Earlier

“Emma, it’s only twenty minutes to midnight. Surely you’ve picked out someone by now?”

There was a sickeningly sweet tone to Mary Margaret’s voice as she said it. Some odd notion that happily ever after was achievable to anyone if you only had hope. Normally Emma would let it roll off her shoulders like water off a duck’s back, but having just collected her pay for bringing in another cheating runaway embezzler, Emma’s faith in love and hope was at an all time low. There was absolutely nothing appealing about kissing a stranger, not that she was necessarily opposed to doing other things with strangers on any other night. Something about New Year’s Eve was clichéd though, raising expectations.

Emma scanned the room. Most of the guests included the usual suspects. Graham, David’s partner at the precinct, who by all accounts was actually a stand up guy, but he was already off limits. He’d been in love with Ruby for years, pining away for her in secret. A secret kept from Ruby alone. He wasn’t Ruby’s type though, and she’d never once considered him in that way, never noticed the way his eyes stayed glued to her from across the room. Never noticed the way he always made sure to have a full glass in front of her before she could finish her beverage. How he was always bringing extra tapenade hummus to their get togethers knowing that it was her favorite. Instead she’d always picked party boys. The love ‘em and leave ‘em type.

Talking animatedly next to Graham was David, who was ‘out’ for obvious reasons. Beside them though was a man Emma had never seen before. Brooding heavily. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he chugged back the rest of the drink in his cup. But before she could get a better look at him, her attention was dragged back to Mary Margaret.

“If you haven't picked anyone out yet, then I have this guy in mind for you. He teaches with me at the school and he’s so sweet. His name is Jefferson and-”

“Whoa, are you talking about that guy that always wears those crazy different hats around town?”

Emma hadn’t even noticed Ruby approaching.

“Yes, and I think he’d be wonderful for Emma.”

“Uh, Mags. That guy is certifiably crazy. You know that right?”

“Ruby, he’s not crazy, and that’s not even a politically correct word to use anymore. Yes, he may be a bit eccentric, but all of the kids love him.”

“Listen to me. Thank you for worrying about me, but I’m not kissing anyone tonight.” Emma watched as Mary Margaret tried to interrupt, but stopped her before she could argue. “The only man that’s going to be touching my lips tonight is Mr. Jose Cuervo.”

With that, Emma grabbed the half empty bottle off the kitchen counter and made her way through the crowd, sneaking out onto the empty balcony. The streets below them were nearly empty. A rare sight on a Saturday night in Boston. She stood there, watching the lights change from emerald to amber, then scarlet. Over and over, no cars ever crossing the intersection. The calm should have relaxed her, but instead it did the opposite. Only further reminding her of how alone she was. Of how everyone else in the city had somewhere to be. Someone to be with. Of how Neal was out in the world somewhere probably conning some other stupid naive girl. Of how Walsh was probably in bed with the redhead he’d been screwing for the last three months of their relationship.

She’d never have that, and while it had been her choice to swear off men for anything more than a one night stand, on nights like that, she couldn’t help but long for the comfort of a man’s embrace. For something more that just ships passing in the night.

“Not that your delectable arse doesn’t make a stunning sight, love, but it’s hardly the view I’d come out here for.”

Emma jumped, nearly throwing the bottle of tequila over the rails as she attempted to clutch her chest.

“Jesus Christ! Lurk much?”

He let out a throaty laugh, lifting his head just enough to catch the glint from Mary Margaret’s bulb decorations. Even in the dim lighting, she could see the blueness of his eyes.

“It’s hardly lurking when I was here first.”

“Excuse me?”

“I was here, minding my own business, taking in the scenery. Then you appeared. Not lurking. Just easily overlooked apparently.”

“And you waited to announce yourself, because?”

“Well if the lady Nolan is anything like her excitable husband I assumed you needed a few minutes of respite to collect yourself.”

She nodded, unable to argue his point. Both of her friends were well meaning but overeager and overbearing when they thought they were right.

“Fair point.”

He laughed again, a little less humor tinting it that time as his hand gestured to the empty space next to him on the bench. Neither spoke for a few minutes, instead basking in the last remaining moments of silence before the midnight countdown began. Eventually her curiosity broke through though.

“Okay. I have to ask. How do you know David?”

Their friendship group had always been a fairly small tight knit crew, and she was certain that she’d have remembered the man next to her. Even in her foul mood she’d be an idiot not to acknowledge how handsome he was with that light smattering of scruff covering the lower half of his face. The perfect mixture of rugged and kempt. The way his bicep felt quite firm as he shifted and brushed his arm against hers.

“Ah. The inquisition portion of the evening.” He took a long tug from a flask he’d hidden on the ground next to his right foot.

He had walls. Something Emma understood intimately. The immediate need to deflect or defend with sarcastic remarks and witty banter. Anything to distract from people from getting too close.

“Not an inquisition. Just call it curiosity. And by the way,” she started as she took another swipe from her own bottle. “Who talks like that?”

Perhaps she’d had enough of the tequila.

“Like what exactly?”

She leveled him with her best glare.

“Fair point,” he mimicked her words from earlier. “The name is Killian, and to say that I know Nolan would be a bit of an overstatement. I just transferred over to his precinct earlier this week from across town and when he discovered that my plans for New Year’s involved take out and pay per view he insisted I come here. Apparently rubbing elbows with complete strangers with hardly any personality is a more appropriate use of my time. And as far as the ‘talking’ goes, you can blame that on the British educational system. For some reason they really tend to stress the whole education bit unlike the schools here in America.”

He stood as the party blowers began to scream, hardly bothering to excuse himself as he left Emma sitting alone, jaw hanging open at the verbal onslaught he’d just bestowed upon her.

She could hear the cheers inside signaling that another year had passed in glorious fashion.

Disaster.

Not that she should have expected anything less. The year before last she’d lost her mind and kissed Walsh. Another one of Mary Margaret’s infamous set up attempts. A year later she’d kissed him again, on another midnight . Unfortunately she’d found him kissing another woman just two days later and that was that, having set an impossibly high standard for that year to live up to.

Seven weeks into that new year Emma had come back from a night of friendly neighborhood research (stalking) to find that her beloved bug had been stolen. Only further emphasising her back luck, David had pointed out to her that she couldn’t file a report on it without implicating herself in a crime. Apparently cops tended to judge a person when they reported the car they stole as stolen, even if that person had gotten her shit together in the intervening years.

And then there had been the bank incident. Her beloved coffee shop had been closed for remodeling and she’d been forced to grab something at one of those trendy chain shops that charged a month’s rent for a single cup of cocoa. Usually that would have been hyperbole, except that particular cup had cost her everything in her checking account. The shop adamantly denied it, but one of the employees had clearly skimmed her card and gone on quite the shopping spree, draining away the money she’d been saving since college.

And if life hadn’t yet kicked her hard enough, she’d been evicted from her apartment, although evicted hadn’t been exactly the wording used on the letter explaining that her building was going co-op. But with her account fraud still under investigation and her money not yet returned, she couldn’t afford the down payment. The bank had all but laughed outright at her when she’d asked them for a loan.

The year hadn’t all been bad though. It had led to her living only one floor up from Mary Margaret and David. It was nice coming home from a midnight booking to find her fridge full of homemade meals in perfectly sized tupperware. Her newer car was a slightly less conspicuous than the bright yellow bug and she’d increased the number of skips she’d tracked down because of it. And ya, the new apartment was a little more expensive in rent that her old one had been, but it was a fresh start. Something she desperately needed. The rest of the year had actually gone pretty smoothly too, until she met Killian Jones.

He’d gotten under her skin somehow, something she thought about him considerably over the next few days. It wasn’t so much what he’d said, as much as the tone in which he’d sneered it out. She’d been called prickly in the past, but she’d never had someone act so callously towards her before, even in her foster care days. She thought about it as she went to bed in a foul mood. She thought about it as Mary Margaret tried pushing Jefferson on her again at lunch the next weekend. She even thought about it a dinner a few nights later, which is probably why she didn’t see the bread plate hurtling at her face.

She’d thought she had him, some lowlife who had hit his girlfriend one too many times. She should have expected it, been prepared for it. She had been, but then the dark haired guy at the bar beside her had said something in an accent and she let her mind wander for the briefest of seconds, just long enough for the scumball to toss a plate right in her face before trying to run out of the restaurant. He’d tripped on the stairs by the entrance though, smashing his face and breaking his nose. If Emma Swan had ever believed in karma, it was in that moment.

Luckily for both of their sakes, they’d only been a few blocks over from David’s station house. If she’d had to spend any more time with the man, his nose likely wouldn’t have been the only thing broken that night.

Granted, it was after nine on a Tuesday night, meaning David was long gone, but Emma was friendly enough with the night guys that none of them would have given her a second glance if she had roughed him up just a bit more than usual.

With the ring of a door bell, Emma found herself shoving the guy through a side door where Mullins was waiting for her just inside the bullpen after buzzing her in. He’d been the cop that had trained David during his rookie days. Mullins had taken a bullet during a robbery during David’s third year with the force, and even though he’d fully recovered physically he’d never returned to the field, too worried about leaving his wife and kids alone.

“Well, well, what do we have -” The concern was evident in his eyes as he took her in. “Jesus Christ, Emma.”

She felt herself holding back a snicker as Mullins pulled a little more forcefully than usual on the guy’s shoulder. After gruffly ordering her skip to sit down and changing out her cuffs for official department ones, Mullins returned his attention to Emma.

“You’re gonna have a pretty good shiner there, ya know that kid?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you have, but if Nolan finds out I let you leave here without checking you over he’ll have my hide.”

She chuckled to herself. David’s protective streak was his defining character trait.

“You know you outrank him, right?”

“Doesn’t matter. Jones!” His bellow took Emma off guard, startling her slightly. “Grab a first aid kit and get Emma here cleaned up a bit.”

Mullins pointed at a desk near the back of the bullpen and told her to go wait. Most of the desks had a few pictures littering the area. They were a mashup of people as the day officers and night officers shared spaces, but the one in the back had only one photo on it. Belle looked stunning in her white dress holding onto Lance’s arm in what was possibly the tightest tux she’d ever seen on a man. They were so happy together. But there was nothing else. Nothing in the way of personal effects from anyone else.

“Alright, love, I’ve got-” His words seemed to fall away when she turned around. The last person she’d expected or wanted to see was standing before her in a dark navy blue police uniform. In the artificial lighting she could see that there was a smattering of ginger in his beard. His inky black hair stuck up in places. But it was his eyes that she lingered on. They were possibly the bluest she’d ever seen.

“You.” Not her most eloquent of greetings, but she was still fuming over what he’d said to her on New Year’s.

“Aye, me.” His fingers fiddled with the latch on the first aid kit, but he made no move to open it.

“This day just keeps getting better and better,” she mumbled to herself

He at least had the presence of mind to look chagrined.

“Please, love. Take a seat and I’ll get you cleaned up and on your way.”

“Emma.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s Emma. Emma Swan. I’m not your love.”

He nodded and looked at the ground as he came to lean against the desk. His desk.

“My apologies. For calling you love, but mostly for the other night. You have every right to be cross with me. I’d had far more libations than food and I treated you poorly. I’d like to think I’m usually more of a gentleman than that.”

She studied him for a while, watching to see if his eyes shifted or if he fidgeted. Tells that she’d learned over the years to see if someone was lying. Little pieces of body language that could give away everything. He didn’t do anything to convince her that he was anything but sorry.

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t but she felt the call of Ben and Jerry’s and a Netflix marathon pulling at her. As well as a much needed icepack. “I probably wasn’t in the most festive mood either so we’ll call it even.”

He had her sit on his desktop so she’d be at eye level with him. Killian - Killian Jones apparently - grabbed her chin and tilted her face to get a better look. Frowning, he lightly brushed her forehead with his fingers causing her to hiss in pain. She knew the plate had caught her pretty squarely in the face, but it hadn’t hurt until just then.

He apologized for causing her pain and set to work on cleaning her up, informing her that on top of the beginnings of a black eye there was a pretty large gash as well. She winced as he dabbed the wound with an alcohol swab. She also protested when he suggested she go to the emergency room for stitches. She’d had worse and just wanted to go home and forget the entire night.

Well, most of the night. As he set about to applying butterfly strips, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander over his face, over the pale pink scar on his right cheek. The slight point of his ears. But mostly over how well his form filled out his uniform. Boston’s finest indeed . Shaking away the thought, she heard him apologize once more,thinking he’d hurt her again.

“Uh, no. I’m just tired.” Not a complete lie at least.

Her exit from the precinct was awkward at best. After Mullins returned with her paperwork so she could collect her money, she hadn’t been sure what to say. Or if she even needed to say anything. They’d only met at a party once for three minutes after all. After mentally debating it, she’d given him a very simple thank you, then humiliated herself by almost poking herself in the eye as she pointed to her face. Not the most graceful exit, but she’d at least managed to make it out of the building without falling over in her heels so she called it a win.

She’d barely made it through the front door of her building before Mary Margaret and David had come barreling out down the stairwell, coddling her like parents, insisting that she come back up to their apartment to eat something. Clearly Mullins had called them to check on her. By the time she made it back to her own apartment she was far too tired to do anything other than crawl into bed and pass out.

The rest of the week, however, was practically a staycation as she hibernated in her apartment, not wanting to see people’s pitying looks on the sidewalk as they misjudged the situation. The first day her head throbbed and her eye was nearly swollen shut. She slept that day away, not even wanting to get up to search for painkillers or to make an ice pack. The second day was slightly better. The swelling had gone down on her eye, replaced by a deep purple bruising. It was still too sore to cover with concealer so she stayed shut up in her apartment scarfing down the ice cream she’d been craving before.

Before she realized it, she’d watched an entire season of The Great British Bake Off, and completely lost track of the time. The sun had long since fallen below the skyline and her stomach was beginning to turn on her for having forgotten to feed it something more substantial than frozen milk all day. Just as she was getting up to check her fridge, she heard a knock at her door.

Curious, she checked the peephole, not expecting anyone. Her downstairs neighbors had a key, and while it was supposed to be for emergencies that had never stopped them from using it for everyday use too.

It was hard to tell through the dirty glass of the peephole, but it appeared to be a man carrying a large bag of food from what looked like the Chinese place around the corner. It was probably a mix-up with the delivery guy. August down the hall had an even more irregular sleep schedule than her and ordered food at all hours of the night.

There was another knock, reminding Emma that the man on the other side of the door was in fact an actual human being and that she should probably open the door and redirect him to August.

“Hey, I think you have the wrong apartment. Booth is three doors down on the right.”

She was already closing the door when she heard him.

“Emma Swan?”

“Ya.”

“Well, then this is for you.”

She tried to explain that she hadn’t ordered anything. That he either had the wrong apartment or that it was a prank. The food had already been paid for though and the tip taken care of. Cautiously she had accepted the bag, setting it on her coffee table as she eyed it, as if it were somehow booby trapped, like a peanut can that once opened launched snakes at its poor unsuspecting victim.

Once she’d felt thoroughly convinced that the bag was safe, she began pulling out enough containers of food to feed a small army. She wondered once more if it had been a mistake, if some poor family of four was starving somewhere in the building, but as she pulled out the last carton of spring rolls, she found a note. His handwriting was a bit more flowery than she’d expected, not that she’d actually thought on it until just then.

Swan,

Now we’re even.

-KJ

Simple and to the point, making Emma smile in spite of herself and her lingering hostility towards him. She had to give him credit. He’d nailed all of her favorites, making her wonder if he’d just guessed well or if he’d had a little insight into her food preferences. Although, she doubted that he’d bother asking David and they didn’t share any other acquaintances.

That night she ate to her heart’s content, almost too much. Putting away the remaining food, she returned to her bed and quickly fell asleep thanks to her overstuffed stomach. The next morning brought a bit of relief with it. Her black eye was finally in the icky green healing stage and the gash on her forehead looked much better than the first night.

Feeling as if she’d rested enough, she called her employer to claim her next case. It was a small time drug dealer. By all accounts, he seemed to be privileged kid rebelling against his parents. He’d dropped out of school his junior year of college and started selling weed out of his car. His latest arrest had been for trying to deal to a cop. His parents had foolishly bailed him out, yet again, and he’d missed his court date, yet again .

The only foreseeable issue was that the kid had nearly unlimited funds to hide with, though he hadn’t exactly been good at evading the law before. As Emma searched through his social media accounts, it quickly became apparent that what he had in money, he more than made up for in lack of brains. It only took her an hour of research to learn that he’d been staying with an old friend from prep school in the center of the city.

Not bothering to go through the effort of a honey trap, Emma dressed in comfortable leggings, a long sleeved sweater and red leather jacket. She did her best to conceal the remaining wounds on her face and set out, grabbing a few snacks for what she hoped would be a very short stakeout.

It hadn’t been. In fact it had taken fourteen hours of sitting in her four year old Mini Cooper.. She’d been ready to call it a night when he finally emerged from the brownstone wearing a black hoodie and jeans. He’d clearly watched one too many movies on standard criminal dress codes.

As usual, he hadn’t seen her coming. She got the jump on him just as she’d done countless times before, and in near record time she had him back down at David’s station ready for booking. She wasn’t really sure why she’d gone there, passing another police station along the way. One that she’d used plenty of times before.

Yet for some reason, she’d felt compelled, trying to reason that it was just because David’s station was closer to her own apartment. That it would be a shorter ride home after. It had absolutely nothing to do with the attractive man that had invaded her dreams the night before.

Of course, when he saw her bringing in her barely legal skip and had come over to say hello, she was as annoyed as she might have expected. In fact, he was in a much more jovial mood that night, and when one of the other cops made a comment about how they preferred her other ‘work’ outfits, he just smiled and mumbled something about how they weren’t wrong under his breath. Then she watched as his cheeks pinkened and his finger began to scratch at a spot just behind his ear.

She hadn’t known how to take it. She hadn’t known how to take him. Not after New Year’s and the Chinese food. He was like Jekyll and Hyde, moody and brooding one moment, blissfully charming the next. He perplexed her. Or at least that what she told herself as thoughts of him continued to invade her mind over the next three weeks. Unable to get a read on him.

The harshness of January gave way to February. Snow still lingered on the sidewalks, but no more had fallen. She’d delivered two more skips to the same department over that time, even though one of them she’d picked up clear on the other side of town. Killian’s mood had soured dramatically by the second drop off. So much so that he’d barely even spoken more than a disgruntled hello that final time. Barely acknowledged that she was there.

It shouldn’t have hurt her. It wasn’t like she really needed him to leer at her chest in her skintight minidress like the other cops usually did. Especially the married ones. She’d always felt a little cheap when it happened, but something about his dismissal of her felt worse. Like she was no one. A sensation she hadn’t experienced since she was eighteen, just after Neal. That’s when she’d found out that she’d been accepted to Boston University with a substantial financial aid package. Gone were the days of not being seen by her foster parents or social workers. She’d become someone, and yet at twenty seven, she may as well have been that young girl all over again as he groused about paperwork, waving her off in the process.

A few nights later Emma wore that same red dress to pick up her latest skip, promising herself a well deserved break after his delivery. Catching him was easy. A little batting of the eyes, a throaty laugh as she pressed her hand into his chest. He melted into the her, dropping his guard long enough for her to cuff him to the barstool. She didn’t bother taking him to David’s station that time, choosing to instead call someone out from the precinct around the corner. The skip really should have been smarter than to agree to meet her at a notorious cop bar.

Once again the dress had done its job, and though she felt a slight bit of gratification knowing that at least one guy in Boston still found her attractive, the garment was shed the moment she walked into her apartment. Unlike the skin tight material, the day lingered on, tight in her muscles, and she hoped that a hot shower would ease her body.

It wasn’t meant to be though, as a sharp set of knocks sounded out on her door. Knocks that she recognized. Calling out to wait a minute, Emma scrambled to get dressed, tugging on some leggings and a sweatshirt. She didn’t even bother to check herself over in the mirror before opening the door.

She’d met him about two months in from moving into her new apartment. There had been noises, loud ones. Breaking glass, thumping on the walls. It was enough that she could hear it from her closed apartment three doors down. She’d been worried that someone was in trouble. With her gun in tow, she’d crept down the hall, stopping to listen at the door. There had been muffled yells, a man’s voice cursing. The door had been unlocked, and while she’d known it to be a bad idea at the time, walking into a stranger’s apartment uninvented and armed, her concern outweighed her need for self preservation.

He was a writer. A self indulgent prick with a complex. A man trying to write the next great novel and failing at it. The yells had been him screaming at his computer, at his words for being unremarkable. Oddly enough, Emma hadn’t been as put off by him as she should have been, and somehow they became friends of sorts.

“Thought you might be up for a goodbye party.”

He didn’t wait for an invitation, pushing past her to unpack the food he’d brought with him.

“Goodbye? I didn’t know I was going anywhere.”

August laughed, standing only long enough to grab some beers from her fridge.

He was leaving. To some place in Thailand, or near Thailand. Something about needing to disconnect from technology and distractions. About needing to live a story worth telling. She gave him three months before he partied himself into a ditch, or whatever type of landforms they had in Phuket. They ate and drank and promised to stay in touch, both knowing it was a lie. He left that night for the last time and Emma felt just the slightest bit empty.

She’d lost her confidant. The one person she could tell things to that wouldn’t judge her thanks to his own litany of crap. The ‘break’ she’d promised herself was short lived. The hollow feeling eating away at her. She needed something to distract herself. It wasn’t hard to track her down. A fake account on Grindr, a quick meet up for a drink first.

The only problem had been that the restaurant was only a few blocks away from her apartment, meaning only a few blocks down from the last precinct she wanted to visit again. She thought about driving to another one, but the girl had been mouthy after Emma had cuffed her and she just wanted her gone. She could only pray that he was out patrolling for once.

She had never been particularly lucky. Mullins was out sick and the only free officer to take her skip was him . He looked like shit, a small satisfaction in her book. Dark circles under his eyes, mused hair, wrinkled uniform.

He was moody. Not exactly harsh with the skip, but not showing any real kindness either. Not that she’d expected him to. She’d only seen him a handful of times and he’d been cranky more often than cheerful. If she hadn’t needed him to sign off on the paperwork, she wouldn’t have even bothered to stay. But when he mumbled something about being too busy and her bringing in a skip being an inconvenience she’d had enough.

She tossed the paperwork at him, telling him to just sign the damn papers so she could be on her way. Telling him that she hadn’t exactly been expecting to spend her entire night at the station. That he was the inconvenience. She barely let him finish scrawling out his name on the last piece of paper before she ripped it out from under his pen, storming off towards the side door.

“Shit. Swan, wait.”

She turned around just long enough to give him her fiercest glare before turning and heading for the door again. His hand loosely grabbed her wrist as he chased after her.

“Please.”

She stopped, not quite facing him, but not shutting him out completely.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, not again, but I shouldn’t have taken my piss poor mood out of you. I’m sorry.”

There was a pleading in his tired eyes that she didn’t understand. Yet she felt helpless to hear him out anyway.

“No you don’t, and no, you shouldn’t have.”

His head dropped in resignation.

“Why have you been in such a horrible mood anyway?”

He told her the story. It wasn’t the whole story. She knew he was leaving something out, but it wasn’t her place to ask. It wasn’t her place to want to know. But he gave her enough. He’d been staying in a hotel since he changed precincts nearly two months ago, stuck on the night shift. Apartment hunting had been a nightmare. His schedule only left him a small window of opportunity to see listings in person, and the places were either death traps or rented out before he’d got a chance to even view them. Then some ‘lot of bloody children’ had moved into the the room next to him. They spent most mornings running around making noise and he’d been unable to get a decent night’s sleep.

She felt for him, something deep within her seeing something in him. A lost boy. He was all alone just trying to survive. He’d been thrown overboard and was too proud to ask for help or to let anyone know he was drowning. She hated herself for what she was about to do.

“I have a friend.”

“Okay?”

“I mean, I have a friend who’s moving out of his apartment. He’s subleasing it himself until his lease is up in a few months and then you could transfer over the lease to your name after, if you wanted to stay there that is.”

His eyes shifted, more alert but still guarded. But something lighter filtered through as he watched her. Hope.

“You’d do that for me?”

“I think we’ve established that I’m not the dick here.” She flourished her hand between the two of them. “The only catch is that it’s in David’s building. I’m not sure if you’d want to see him at both work and your off time.”

His head tilted. “Thank you, but perhaps I shouldn’t then. If Dave chose not to tell me about the apartment, it probably means he doesn’t want me there.”

“He doesn’t know about it. The guy that lives there now is on a different floor and keeps odd hours. I’m not sure if he and David have actually ever even spoken to each other.”

She gave him August’s contact info, telling him that he was likely awake if he wanted to call about it on his break, leaving him with a warning.

“Don’t make me regret this, Jones.”

He moved in the next week, bringing only a few boxes. August had decided to leave most of his furniture, choosing instead to relinquish the creature comforts he’d become accustomed to. Believing that an artist was more creative when struggling. The furniture didn’t seem to match Killian’s personality, but he said it was fine.

He was still unpacking when two large pizzas arrived at her door. Already paid for just like the Chinese food. A thank you gift for getting him out of his hell hotel. He’d waved to her from his doorway, box in hand as she’d accepted the pizza, before ducking back inside. She’d thanked the delivery guy, adding on an extra tip. It was a lot of pizza. Too much really.

At least, that’s what she told herself as she grabbed a six pack of beer from her fridge door along with the pizza boxes before heading over to his place. The door had been left open from his constant trips back and forth between his car and the trash chute.

“Knock, knock. Welcoming party.”

He called back out, telling her to come in, laughing when she told him that someone had sent her an obscene amount of food. They talked a little that night. Superficial things. He was originally from London but had moved to the States for college. He had a brother, still serving in the Royal Navy. They usually only saw each other once a year around Christmas time. Emma was only doing bail bonds long enough to save up enough money for law school. It was strangely nice, despite her missing August.

It wasn’t the man that she missed as much as the bond she’d formed. She’d told him everything. Or at least almost everything. Now a near stranger sat in his place, and she felt alone all over again.

The strange thing though, was that he wasn’t a stranger. Not a complete one anyway. She knew him in a way. Knew that he’d been hurt. That he was just as alone as she was. Just as defensive. As broken as her. He was a kindred spirit.

They parted that night on better terms than ever before, leaving Emma to wonder just who Killian Jones was. What the missing part of his story was. She considered asking Mary Margaret the next day at lunch, but she wasn’t able to think of a natural segueway. One that wouldn’t make her look like a young schoolgirl with a crush.

The checks were on the table when she was finally and inadvertently given her chance. Ruby was the one to ask. She’d delivered some coffee and donuts to Graham and David who’d both been up early that morning working on a case. Killian had still been there, causing Emma to wonder why he’d been working so late. She’d even worried a little, but then Ruby asked about him, and all of Emma’s focus went to that.

To why Ruby was asking about him. To the way she toyed with the locket around her neck. The wolfish grin as she mentioned how good his ass looked in those pants. To the way Ruby asked if he was single.

Emma had to hold back a growl as her friend basically spoke of how she’d love to devour the man, and it frightened her. Frightened her that she was jealous over a man she barely knew, that she refused to let herself think of in that way. Jealous that Ruby could be so casual with men she saw on a daily basis. That she was so open with her sexuality. But mostly it frightened her that Ruby Lucas had never had a man turn her down.

The thought of Ruby writhing on the same sheets Emma had helped him tug over his mattress the night before made her sick for some reason. One she absolutely refused to think about . Instead she pushed it down, listening to Mary Margaret explain that she didn’t really know all that much about him. Just that he seemed nice enough the few times she’d met him. She didn’t even seem to realize that he’d moved into the building.

“Hey Mags, I have a great idea. Why don’t you invite him over to dinner Friday to properly introduce us. You know how you love setting people up.”

“He’s working.”

Two pairs of eyes snapped towards her. The words were out of her mouth before she’d even realized it. She wasn’t sure of he was really working or not, but it seemed likely enough. She’d seen him there on a Friday night before.

“I mean, I think he is. The last time I brought in a weekend skip he was there.”

“Well that’s a shame,” Ruby pouted. “Shit, is that the time? Crap, I have to run, but Mags, next time you see him, do you think you could talk me up?”

“Sure, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks. You’re the best!”

Mary Margaret barely spared Ruby a second glance as she ran out of the cafe, instead focusing her eyes on Emma. Speculation written all over her face.

“What was that all about?”

“Oh you know Ruby,” Emma tried for nonchalance. “She’s always been man hungry.”

“That’s not what I was talking about and you know it.” Her friend had clearly picked up some lie detecting tricks from David. “You were upset.”

“No I wasn’t. I was just trying to be helpful.” “If that’s true, then please explain to me why the heels of your palms have fingernail imprints in them?” Emma squirmed under her gaze, trying not to give an inch lest her friend take a mile.

“I just feel bad for Graham, you know.” Not a total lie. She was getting good at that. “He’s been in love with her for so long and I just thought it might be really awkward for him having to work with a guy that Ruby’s been with.”

“Good try. And yes, it would be if I thought Killian had any interest in her at all.”

“And what does that mean?”

Emma felt her heart surge with the tiniest bit of hope as Mary Margaret went on to explain that she’d already tried to introduce the two of them on New Year’s but Killian hadn’t been as amiable. So maybe amiable wasn’t the word Mary Margaret used, but it sounded like something Killian would say and for some reason that’s how Emma heard it. Her friend further explained that Killian had actually seemed really put out by the notion of a set up even after he’d seen Ruby’s chest nearly falling out of her dress as she danced around the apartment.

It wasn’t until later that day that Emma took offense. Her friend had tried to set Ruby up with Killian, while she’d tried setting up Emma with the mad hatter. She didn’t want Killian, really, she didn’t.

Yes, keep lying to yourself. That’s healthy.

But she’d still been offended that Mary Margaret had thought she’d be more compatible with a guy that talked in riddles and dressed up to go to the Boston tea house. It was a place only small children went to feel fancy in their dress up princess clothes. Not a place for a grown ass man to live out some weird fantasy. A part of her wondered if there wasn’t something slightly more sinister going on there.

She begged off from their planned dinner the next night. Something she did with them every Friday night, work permitting, but her ire with Mary Margaret had only grown and she didn’t want to see the woman, afraid she may say something regrettable. Unfortunately, it meant that her friend left nothing in her fridge to eat. She contemplated getting something delivered, but she didn’t want to be home if the Charmings from downstairs came up to check on her or to call her bluff about being busy.

The little pub around the corner was busier than she’d expected. Nearly every table was full and the bar had a crowd two deep. Emma turned around, set to leave when she saw him, sitting at a table in the corner all by himself.

“Is this seat taken?”

It was a cheesy line, and she hadn’t meant to sound so throaty as she said it, but she hoped that she come off more as joking than flirty. It didn’t matter though. He was too gone to really even notice her. She could have been wearing a shark onesie and he likely wouldn’t have been fazed. He shouldn’t even be served any more, yet when the waitress walked over with her tray, she had another glass of amber liquid ready for him.

“I’ll take that. Can he get some water?”

The waitress looked disappointed, but smiled and nodded, returning soon after with a large glass. Emma took a moment longer to order some food, asking for it in a to-go bag. As she waited on it to be ready, she tried to force Killian to drink as much of the water as possible.

The walk back to the apartment was a bit of a struggle. Killian was wobbly on his feet and she nearly dropped him trying to open the door to their building, but somehow she made it to the elevator without hurting him. It took a minute of digging around in his jacket pocket to find his own apartment keys.

The place was surprisingly immaculate. She’d never seen it in such a condition before. August had always been a bit sloppy. Emma set Killian down on the couch and pulled the food out of the to-go bag she’d been given, insisting that he eat it all to soak up the booze in his stomach. By the end of the meal, he was looking far more sober than when she’d found him at the pub.

His eyes still had a glaze over them though, a haunted look, and although she tried not to worry, she couldn’t help asking him what had caused him to get shit-faced. He was evasive, or tried to be, but Emma refused to let him bottle it up. She shouldn’t pry. Not when his inhibitions were so low. She knew that. She would be furious if the tables were turned, but when he said something about a ‘her’ Emma’s concern morphed into something else. A new feeling that left her stomach in angry knots.

It was the the same old story of heartbreak. Her name was Milah. They’d dated for two years and suddenly she’d just decided to end things. To walk away from everything they’d built, including the townhouse they’d purchased. Or almost purchased. Something about it being in escrow.

But that’s when the tale turned. Her husband had caught wind of her plans to purchase a new home with her lover and told her she needed to choose between his money or her man candy. Ya, the husband had been news to him too. A blatant reminder that no matter how long you’ve been with someone, you never really know them.

The money had won out.

So he’d packed up. Boxed up the few items that didn’t remind him of her, and asked for a transfer. She felt sick. It was such a vivid reminder of Neal and Walsh. Of how they’d both fooled her into thinking that they loved her, but when it came down to it, neither had. Both had chosen something else over her. Her heart stung for him.

She’d been in the society section of the newspaper that morning, promoting a new little boutique uptown. She’d looked happy, really happy, and it had sent Kilian over the edge of misery knowing that she didn’t even miss him. That their breakup was nothing to her.

“So, Emma Swan,” he slurred slightly. “You now know my deepest darkest secret. What’s yours?”

She didn’t tell him. A mixture between wouldn't and couldn’t. That secret was locked far too deep inside. She’d never told anyone. Not Mary Margaret or David. Not Ruby. Not even August who’d known more about her than anyone.

Instead, she lied, telling him about Neal. About how she’d given her virginity to a man a decade older than her. A man that had immersed her in a life of petty theft and crime. How he’d tried to pin something on her, but she’d found out before he could do anything and turned him over to the police. He’d fled before they could arrest him, and she’d been let off with a strong warning. It was the only time being a foster kid had worked in her favor. The judge had taken pity and given her community service in exchange for a dismissal of the charges the DA had tried to hit her with.

It wasn’t her deepest secret, but it was still a dark one that she didn’t enjoy discussing. Mary Margaret had just looked at her with pity when she’d told her. That had been the start of her obsession when fixing Emma up with the perfect guy. Ruby’s first question had been to ask if Neal was good in bed. Unfortunately, his age and experience had done little for him. Something Emma didn’t realize until later after she’d had a few more partners.

But Killian, he just thanked her, his head still lolling back resting against the edge of the couch.

Something shifted between them that night. It started slowly, but they didn’t just talk when they ran into each other for work anymore. They both went out of their way to hang out, binging shows on their days off. Getting meals together. Walking together to Mary Margaret’s Friends’ Friday dinners. And if Emma had made an extra effort to ensure that he sat next to her instead of Ruby, well that was nobody’s business.

When Emma sprained her ankle chasing a skip in the rain, it was Killian who wrapped and iced her ankle. His fingers that brushed against her skin creating sparks along the way. It was Killian who told her she didn’t have to go to the emergency room if she didn’t want to, even though all of her other friends were insisting she get it x-rayed. He somehow just knew that what she needed most was to stay in bed. He was also the one that brought her bear claws from Granny’s on his way home from work in the mornings. He stayed up long enough to make her coffee just the way she liked it and brought it to her before going to his own apartment to crash.

He had become her everything in that year since their meeting. Somehow a mashup of the relationships she shared with August and Mary Margaret. He was her doting friend that had also become her closest confidant. He was the one she went to when she saw Walsh in the jewelry store buying a ring. The one that told her she wasn’t as stupid as she felt. That the mistake of opening up her heart to someone wasn’t hers, but his for betraying her trust the way he had.

He went to her when he was struggling with work. With his new captain who was just a huge dick and how he was always getting crumbs in his stupid black beard. With a case where the evidence just didn’t add up. Even when he was pissed at Dave for interfering in his personal life. She was the first person to hear about is promotion to detective, and his subsequent change to the day shift.

They were everything to each other.

And that was the problem. She hadn’t realized it. Not at first. But over that year she’d come to rely on him like a crutch in a way. She craved his approval. Wanted to see him smile. To be the one that made him smile. She loved the way that his arm lingered on her shoulders protectively when they went out to the pub for Ruby’s birthday. The way his hand stroked up and down her arm, his thumb drawing circles across her clavicle. The way his fingers always tangled in the ends of her hair.

She wanted him. She wanted him in the way that love stories were written about. She wanted him to hold her as they fell asleep at night after a passionate night of lovemaking. She wanted him to wipe away her tears and then kiss her senseless until all of the bad thoughts were banished. She wanted him to tell her that he loved her. Emma wanted him to be her last New Year’s Kiss. She wanted everything with him.

She just didn’t know it.

Not until Mary Margaret pointed it out while they were taking down the old Christmas decorations. The holiday had passed by in steller fashion. Killian hadn’t been there, instead meeting his brother in New York. The Boston airport had been all but shut down and many of the flights had been rerouted due to weather. Killian had told her that he couldn’t stand the thought of Liam spending the holiday alone in a strange city, so he left early, trying to beat the storm as it raged across the north east coastline.

She’d been worried about him driving in such horrible weather, even offering to go with him. But he’d insisted that she stay, not wanting to ruin her holiday as well. She felt empty and alone, despite being surrounded with people. He’d called her when he’d gotten there the night before, as promised to let her know he was ok. Liam was already passed out in the bed next to him so he couldn’t talk for long, but he’d wished her a Merry Christmas Eve before he hung up.

The storm had only worsened overnight and the Jones brothers were trapped in the city, unable to get home until the snow had stopped falling and the streets had been cleared. So they spent the morning on Facetime celebrating the holiday the best way possible. Mary Margaret opened the presents he’d left for them and laughed at the NYPD Rookie newborn onesie he’d bought them. Mary Margaret still had a few months to go, but David had already decided that his son was going to wear it one his ride home from the hospital. He tried to get Emma to open the present he’d left for her as well, but she refused, telling him that she’d wait until he was back so they could exchange gifts together.

It took four days before Killian finally made it back to Boston. At one point she’d been certain that he was going to miss Mary Margaret’s now infamous New Year’s Eve party, and while it would have sucked for him to miss it, a part of her was secretly glad. Ruby was still insistent that Mary Margaret set the two of them up. That they should forget to take down some of the mistletoe. There was an exaggerated wink that followed and the idea of it had just left a heavy weight on her shoulders, a gnawing in her stomach that she couldn’t quite explain.

She pushed that thought out of her brain when he returned though. The feeling of his chest pressed against hers as they hugged in greeting was a balm to her soul. One she didn’t know that she needed, and that was enough for her to forget the dread she’d felt.

She couldn’t believe that he’d remembered based on a random story she’d told him months before. He’d given her a magic eight-ball. As a kid she’d been naive and fallen for the story her mother had told her when she’d handed her the box on her 6th birthday. That she’d thought it was an actual lie detector test and she’d carried it everywhere with her, thinking it gave her a superpower, until a bully in one of her group homes had grabbed it from her, tossing it onto the sidewalk from a second story window. Shattering the ball and the last bit of hope she’d had in the world. And while none of her friends had understood the significance of the gift Killian had bestowed upon her, she cherished it.

She’d bought him a captain’s hat, telling him that if a man as idiotic as Edward Teach could make captain, than so could he. He’d smiled and kissed her cheek telling her “Thank you for the gift, love.”

She wasn’t really sure when he’d started calling her love again, just that it didn’t bother her anymore. In fact, it usually left her with a flutter. Not that she ever dwelled on that.

But then Mary Margaret had pointed it out. The way she lit up when Killian was around. That he did the same. The casual affectionate touches that they shared. The fact that they had more inside jokes together than she had with the rest of the group combined. The way they spent all of their free time together.

They were dating and neither of them knew it. Or at least Emma hadn’t known it. She couldn’t say for sure. She’d even gone so far as to deny it, but then she’d been reminded of the elevator incident.

They had come back from watching a Boston Celtics game. A skip had offered her his family tickets for her to let him go. She’d taken the tickets and cuffed him anyway. Perhaps it wasn’t the most upstanding thing to do, but they’d go to waste otherwise. So they’d gone, had beer and popcorn. It had been fun. It had been long. The metro line had been jam packed and they all regretted not driving to the stadium. The arm she would have paid for parking almost would have been worth it.

By the time they made it back to their building, they’d all been exhausted, and the elevator ride seemed slower than usual. David and Mary Margaret had both been leaning against the opposite wall of the elevator, but Emma had leaned back into Killian, allowing him to hold her up. Maybe she’d been too tired to notice the way his hand had settled on her hips, his thumb brushing dangerously low under the waistline of her jeans. Then again, maybe she just hadn’t cared.

It had seemed so natural for him to touch her so intimately. Anyone else would have received an elbow to the ribs or a kick in the groin, but with Killian, it was just normal. Mary Margaret had disembarked on her floor, giving Emma an odd look on the way out as David told them good night. Emma had been too tired to care what the look had meant though. When the elevator had opened on their floor, they hadn't discussed it. They’d just instinctively gone to Emma’s apartment and plopped down on her couch to watch Netflix. They’d woken the next morning spooning each other and neither of them had thought it unusual.

So ya, they were dating, and honestly, Emma wasn’t sure what to make of it. Especially when she didn’t know if Killian felt the same way. If he had butterflies when she rubbed his shoulders after a long day. If he felt a rush of heat when he saw her in her in one of her honeytrap dresses.

She spent all of New Year’s Eve thinking about it. Debating if she should say anything or not, but he’d winked at her in the hallway as he was getting in from work, and that moment, had solidified her resolve. She was going to find him at midnight and kiss the ever-loving hell out of him. To start the year off right. Maybe she’d even take him back to her apartment after for something more than movie watching.

There was a new dress. One she’d been saving for a special occasion. Something more meaningful than a skip. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, her makeup removed and reapplied twice. She even managed to find matching heels. The weather had cleared up enough that they’d even be able to go out on the balcony again, where it had all begun. Everything was perfect. She’d also severely underestimated how long it would take her to get ready though, and by the time she got down to her friends’ apartment, there were less than fifteen minutes until midnight. With the apartment full of people it was hard to move around, and even harder to find the man she was looking for. With five minutes left, she finally spotted Graham, slipping out of the restroom. She stopped him, grabbing his wrist to ask him if he’d seen Killian.

There were tears forming in his eyes though. Something had happened. Something with Ruby, and as much as she wanted her grand dramatic gesture, she needed to comfort her friend more. She had no idea that soon she was the one that would need comforting.

He’d been looking for Ruby, thought he’d seen her head into the bathroom. She’d been in there a while so he knocked, trying to make sure she was alright. No one had answered, but he’d heard moaning noises. Thinking that she was in trouble, he’d slipped into the bathroom and caught an eyeful of dark hair fucking Ruby with his mouth. Emma had had enough. She loved Ruby dearly, and would never judge her for her choices, but Graham was hurting and it was time that Ruby took responsibility for her actions. She stood to make her way to the bathroom but he stopped her.

“Emma, you don’t want to do that.”

Like hell she didn’t.

“I mean it. You really don’t want to go in there.”

He was pleading, a fresh wave of tears staining his cheeks and Emma felt every muscle in her body seize up.

“And why don’t I want to go in there?” There was a quiver to her voice. She felt so small and weak and hated herself.

“Please.”

She knew. Before she knew, she knew . As she stepped to the door, hand in the air ready to knock, she heard a scream. One final yell of ecstasy fell from Ruby’s lips, and she knew.

“Jones! ”

#csjj #captain swan january joy #cs fic #a rather common name

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definegirlfriends · 5 years

Note

favorite fics where one of the boys comes to the realization that they’re not straight?

All of these fics are about them realizing they aren’t straight, or similar enough that I thought they could be included! I put a little ✨ by my favorites! Enjoy x

Allies in Heaven, Comrades in Hell: (265k) A Catholic school!AU where Louis is finishing sixth form and will definitely be famous someday if Harry has something to say about it, Liam is the racist homophobe that Zayn is dreadfully in love with, and Niall teaches guitar. ✨

Baby Heaven’s In Your Eyes: (120k) A sixth form!AU where Harry is the fucked up bad boy with too many problems, Louis is the perfect rich boy with too much money and their schools are right across from each other. They meet at a party and that’s the last (and maybe the only) thing they need. ✨

Both Showing Hearts: (113k) Louis Tomlinson is, in fact, not straight. Harry Styles isn’t sure what he is. Together, they figure it out, and maybe fall in love along the way. Or, the Uni AU where Louis helps Harry figure out his sexuality, Niall crashes a bachelorette party, Liam works in a printing centre, and Zayn happens to need lots of printing done.

Completely, and Absolutely: (2.5k) Louis is so completely and absolutely NOT gay that the fact that anyone thinks Harry is his soulmate is just being ridiculous. Including himself. He just thinks they’re mates that are two parts of the same soul, and that’s not weird at all. Okay?Or, the one in which Louis spends the entirety of X Factor so deep in denial that he doesn’t realize he’s gay until he’s already 3000% gone for the dimpled mess in his arms.

Fumbling In The Dark: (21k) Louis is straight, Harry is not. They still shag a lot.

Hiding Place: (365k) Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. ✨

How Many Secrets Can You Keep?: (11k) Harry, a homophobic Christian, joins Louis’ gay-straight alliance club at school, hoping to somehow attract lesbians (he’ll work out the logistics later). Louis shows him what he didn’t know he was actually there for.

I’m a Beggar In The Morning (I’m a King At Night): (7k) ever since harry whispered things about louis at the grocery store they’ve been best friends and harry’s straight and louis’ not and that’s just how it is. “Sweet dreams, love,” Louis murmurs, and even though he feels creepy, he slips his hand in between Harry’s thighs and it’s warm and he kisses his cheek. He turns and leaves and doesn’t see that Harry’s eyes snap open or hear that a whine comes from his mouth.

I’m Trying Not To Make A Sound: (10k) Louis thinks he could die right there. He can’t feel anything but the tingling sensation all over his skin. He’s throwing away all his past thoughts on trying to be straight and denying his reactions towards other men, he just wants more of this numbing feeling. Everything else is a long lost memory, can’t think of anything else besides, wow, this feels incredible. or basically, “I am in fact straight.” / “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Learning to Breathe: (110k) He’s playing football at one of the top universities in England and he should love everything about his life right now, but instead he’s moving backwards. How does your past fit into your present? Louis is still figuring it out. ✨

Let Me Teach You Something: (72k) In the last year of their degree program, the five boys are put in a group for the duration of a year long Capstone class. They will spend days and nights together working tirelessly to finish school. Louis has no problem with his sexuality and has the notches on his bed post to prove it, but will straight-laced, straight-boy Harry change all that?

My Heart Is Beating For This Moment In Time: (160k) When Louis first saw Harry at the 2010 X Factor Auditions, he thought he was watching a peculiarly special stranger. But Harry has known Louis ever since he was five years old.Because Louis has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to Time Travel to important moments in his past and in his future - and to Harry, always to Harry. When they’re put into a band together, it seems like everything Harry has been waiting and wishing for has finally come true. Except for the small fact that Louis doesn’t know that Harry is in love with him- that Harry’s always been in love with him. Fate, it would seem, is just getting started.A story about growing up and growing together, and the impossible love that makes it all worthwhile. ✨

Nobody Compares To You: (10k) Harry has a long-term crush on his bandmate and best friend Louis, who is straight, at least as far as he knows. He also starts falling in love with this guy he met on tumblr. Who also has a crush on his own best mate. Things are about to get complicated.Or, the one where Harry falls in love twice, Louis is just incredibly sweet and supportive, and Al from tumblr is super nice but also really secretive about his identity - not that Harry can blame him, considering his own blog is run under false pretenses, too.

Not So Typical: (90k) Harry Styles; football phenomenon, academic prodigy and the most liked guy at Washington State. Harry has it all; the looks, the popularity, the best friends and it doesn’t hurt that there is a line of girls ready to jump his bones at any second. It all was perfect…almost perfect that is. Until that one night, with that one too many drink still burning in his throat and those piercing blue eyes infusing themselves into his every thought.

Photograph: (207k) Harry steadies his jaw. “What do you want from me?”Louis’ bottom lip wobbles. “I’m not gay.”“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” And at that, Louis seems to completely lose his shit. He rushes towards Harry, banging his fists on Harry’s collarbones in a frenzy, and begins yelling– “I hate you! I hate you! I fucking hate you so much!”Tears are rushing down his cheeks, and then he’s shoving Harry away, drunk out of his ass, causing Harry to stumble back a bit. Louis then begins to clutch at himself, fisting his own clothes to his chest, dribble falling from his mouth, his arms shaky and his back hunched.“Fuckfuckfuckufkcufkc!” He spits, face contorted, hands trembling. “I hate you!”“No, you don’t.” Harry steps forward, face concerned. “You don’t hate me.”- An epic love story in which Harry is too in love for his own good, Louis is in denial of his sexuality, and they write songs instead of actually talking to each other.

Pillow Talk: (25k) “So, do you think I should… find someone to fool around with?” Harry asks, nervous again. “To see if I like it?” Louis swallows hard but hopes he covers it pretty well with a casual shrug. “I mean, it would probably help to know that you actually want everything that goes along with being with a guy. If you can’t handle the machinery, it’s probably not for you, you know?” Harry nods and appears to be steeling himself. Louis tenses, afraid that he knows what’s coming. “Would you do it?” “Do what?” Louis plays dumb. Harry has to take another deep breath before he can say it. “Will you help me figure out if I like it? Being with a boy?” Or When Harry starts having confusing feelings for a male classmate, his sister’s best friend, Louis, helps him figure himself out. Cue lots of kissing, sex, and falling in love.

Red Brick Heart: (98k) Uni AU. Harry had turned up at the halls of residence expecting fun, new friends, and maybe a life experience or two. What he doesn’t expect is a surprise roommate who’s loud and dramatic and obsessed with tea and is maybe, actually, all he’s ever wanted. ✨

Resist Everything Except Temptation: (100k) The one where Louis is the commodore’s son who is forced to become a part of Harry’s crew when he is captured. ✨

Shake Me Down: (208k) Harry’s new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization. ✨

Standing Here But You Don’t See Me: (22k) “Louis being with a guy is something Harry has always known was a possibility. Ever since Louis told them he was gay, he knew that this would come up at some point. But it was just that. At some point. It’s always been a hypothetical. Harry never thought it would bother him. But now, watching Louis squirm as he watches that other guy, it’s just not a hypothetical anymore. And Harry is very bothered by it.“or: Harry’s discovery that he like boys as well as girls. One boy in particular catches his eye and he’s determined to get him.

Supposed to Be: (20k) “I’m making a movie for a film competition, and I want you to be in it,” Harry told Louis. “I think you would be a great leading actor in it.” “Why?” “Because it’s you. I mean, who wouldn’t want to know all about the amazing Louis Tomlinson? It would be a great movie.” “You don’t have some weird crush or, like, secret obsession with me, do you?” Louis asked. Harry bit his tongue so he didn’t say “Ew, I have standards.” He didn’t think that would go over well. Of course, that was assuming Louis understood what that meant. — Or, the Geek Charming AU where Harry’s a film geek, Louis’ a popular jock, and they both need each other to get what they want.

The Impossible Now: (49k) A wish on Christmas Eve sends Louis to an alternate dimension where Harry is a member of One Direction.

Unbelievers: (136k) It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan. ✨

You and Me: (12k) harry is potentially screwed and louis is definitely hopeless, but its ok because as long as they’re in each other’s lives, everything will somehow probably turn out the way that its supposed to.

#I havent read all of these fics on here but these are the ones that sounded similar enough to your ask!#sorry this took a bit #hopefully this is what you were looking for!#fic rec #asks #anon

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omgxiaoch · 7 years

Text

Just A Little Crush

requested by my fam @joohoneymoney! i hope you like it <3

pairing: jooheon x [y/n]

word count: 1764

a/n: this scenario is actually inspired by this gif ! tehee, i hope you guys like it <3 i apologize for any grammatical errors.

Luck was on your side for the first time and here you are, sitting in your seat with so much anticipation. Gripping on your Canon EOS 5D Mark IV with your right hand, you clutched onto your chest, trying to calm your beating heart.

It’s finally the last fan meet. The first and last fan meet that you’ll attend and there’s nothing more that you could ever wish for but just to see the boys’ face to face. It has always been one of your bucket lists ever since you’ve came to Seoul.

The whispers of other lucky fans sounded like bees buzzing around a flower. Suddenly, with the lights slightly dimmed, the whispers died down as soon as seven figures came in with such grace. Each and every one of them had different vibes and there was one that has already caught your attention.

And it’s no other than Lee Jooheon.

The rapper that had captured your heart for his passion and talent, not to mention his big heart. Despite the fact that a couple of people told you that he was scary, you didn’t care. You didn’t care since behind that image was a soft, ball of aegyo.

Somewhere deep inside of him, you knew that he was someone that has a beautiful and fiery heart, filled with passion and love. Standing just a couple of meters away from you, you couldn’t help but gaze at him with so much affection.

A couple of shutters snapped you out from your thoughts and brought your camera up to your eyes, looking through the eye piece, fingers turning the focus ring until it finally focuses on his smiling face.

Click!

Another, and another. He was smiling brightly at different cameras pointed at them. Eyes transferring from lens to lens until it finally lands on yours. Jooheon’s eyes have widened slightly but he quickly regained his composure, he flashed you the brightest smile that he ever has and you didn’t waste any time to capture such moment.

Thinking that he was going to look at another lens, you were about to bring your camera down when he flashed you a finger heart, totally catching you off guard. However, you were quick and you were able to capture it before he brought his hand down and looked away with his cheeks flushed.

Nice shot, [y/n]! you couldn’t help but gaze down at your camera, totally admiring how the shot came out and you started to think of ways to tweak it a bit to make it more beautiful. Losing yourself in your own world, a pair of eyes would constantly glance towards your way – eyes filled with stars.

Jooheon couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of you being cute and beautiful at the same time. Never has he ever felt like this. When his eyes landed on your lens, he couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you until he saw your face. You had a different glow than the rest.

Noticing a pair of eyes boring into the back of his head, he quickly turns around only to see a teasing smile from Hyungwon, who has been responding to Minhyuk and Changkyun’s question in such model-like manner.

“What are you giggling about?” Hyungwon asks, slinging an arm around the younger. “Hehehehe, it’s a secret.” Jooheon sheepishly smiled at Hyungwon, making Hyungwon shake him a little bit on the shoulders, making Jooheon burst out laughing before leaning in to his ears, whispering the words that he’s never expected to say.

“I think I have a little crush on one of our fans.”

Pulling away to give the younger lad a teasing smile, Hyungwon could help but burst out into fits of giggles along with Jooheon. This was something that the two of them always liked to talk about. It was impossible for them to not have a little crush on one of their fans, but it was something that they’ve never expected Jooheon to experience.

“Are you serious?” Hyungwon squeaked as he tried his best to calm his beating heart. Man, he was more excited that Jooheon. Jooheon’s frivolous grin was enough for Hyungwon to believe. Giving Jooheon a slight punch on the shoulder, Hyungwon couldn’t help but pull Jooheon back to the table, retreating with flushed cheeks.

“Which one your little crush?” Hyungwon casually asked, finally regaining his composure. “The one with a cream cardigan with a loose white shirt paired with a light washed jeans and a black and white vans old skool skate shoes.”

With Hyungwon’s eyes searching for the right match, Jooheon couldn’t help but let out a fruity laugh. “Found her.” In just seconds, Hyungwon’s twinkling eyes finally found its way to yours, only to burst into a smile when he saw your surprised, yet shy reaction when you caught him staring at you.

“She’s pretty.”

([of/n] – other fan’s name)

“Ne~ Thank you for coming to see us, [of/n]!” Jooheon beamed as he waved his hand at the red haired girl. Looking around at the venue, his eyes started to search for you but you weren’t there in your seat. Jooheon’s eyebrows furrowed as he strains his head to be able to have a view of those places that has been covered by a couple of things.

This continued for a couple of minutes until he didn’t notice the person who was sitting right in front of him.

“Jooheon oppa.”

A small yet melodic voice called out to him, snapping him back to reality when in the end, the person whom he was looking for was finally right in front of him. His heart skipping really fast that Jooheon couldn’t help but flash her a shy grin.

“O-oh, I’m sorry for spacing out a little bit… I was looking for you…” The last part came out as a whisper but it was loud enough for you to hear, your pale cheeks starting to heat up from the sudden confession. “I-it’s okay, I’m here now.” You stammered while looking away with your free hand fanning your flushed cheeks.

It was now Jooheon’s turn to turn bright red. Jooheon was like in a glass box filled with emotions that he doesn’t seem to understand. Flashing you another shy grin, Jooheon looks down and takes a hold of your album and opens it on the page where you placed a bookmark for him.

“What’s your name?”

“[y/n]. It’s finally nice to meet you in person, Oppa.” You gazed up at him with your chin resting on your hands, watching his fingers move while writing down your name and his message on the page. His eyes would constantly trail upwards to meet yours, only to look away shyly with his cheeks flushed with a shade darker than before.

“So, [y/n], who’s your bias?” He casually asked with his hands open right in front of you, waiting for you to intertwine yours with his. Your eyes couldn’t help but stare at how his soft, slender fingers before finally intertwining it with his, giving it a light squeeze before winking at him teasingly.

“You’re my bias.”

Badump. First warning.

Chuckling at how adorkable you are, Jooheon squeezes your hand in return with a follow up question. “Do you have a boyfriend?” You couldn’t help but pause for a moment, thinking if this was something an idol would usually ask. Shrugging your shoulders, you decided to just go with the flow without removing the smile that’s been on your face ever since you sat right in front of him.

“I do not have a boyfriend since my heart is only for you~”

Badump. Second warning.

Totally taken a back from your reply, Jooheon couldn’t help but let out an embarrassed laugh. His hands untangles itself from yours before it reaches to cover his face. It was hard to deny that you were definitely something.

Giggling at his reaction, you gently took hold of his wrists and pulled his hands down with a pout, “Don’t cover your face, Jooheony~ If you cover your face then I wouldn’t be able to see that beautiful smile of yours.”

Badump. Final warning.

It seemed like the tables were turned. It should’ve been Jooheon throwing all those smooth replies but because of his jittery heart, he was too embarrassed to do so. Just the sight of your beautiful smile was enough for him to go crazy.

“Hajima~” he cutely cooed, only to burst out into another laugh, making you laugh along with him. “Jooheon, stop hogging our fan!” Kihyun whined, making you look at him with a smile. Pouting at his hyung, Jooheon sadly slumped his shoulders and sighed.

“Our time’s finally up, huh? I have to give you to this hamster…”

“Please, don’t…” you pouted your lips and knew that this was just another fan service. But this wasn’t just a fan service, this also had Jooheon’s sincere feelings. “I wish I could keep you in my pockets but Kihyun would get mad at me for hogging over you… Oh well, it was really nice talking to you.”

His hands reach over to caress your soft cheeks. “It was nice talking to you too, Oppa.” You muttered while accepting the signed album, only to be stopped by Jooheon’s hand.

“Don’t forget to check my message later, alright?” Nodding your head in response, you waved goodbye to him and proceeded to Kihyun, then to the remaining members. Everything was too fast for you but when you were in front of Jooheon, it felt like hours but in reality it was only for three minutes.

Heaving out a sad sigh, you opened your signed album and decided to look at their messages. It was filled with such sweet messages filled with sincerity and concern. Flipping through the pages, your hands stopped right on the page where Jooheon has signed moments ago.

Jooheon’s message was nothing compared to the others. A long and hearty message was written and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with happiness. Each and every word was just as beautiful as he is. Trailing your eyes on the bottom, you couldn’t help but gasp at what was written below.

“And, [y/n], I think I have a little crush on you. I hope we can talk again or even better, meet each other again next time! I know this isn’t allowed but here’s my number, +82 ** **** ****. I really hope that we can hang out sometime or something… hehe… Anyways, have a beautiful day with Monsta X ♡

Love lots,

Lee Jooheon ♡ ♡ ”

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 7 years

Note

First things first, I am a huge fan! Your Riverdale fics give me life. I share your love of making Jughead suffer. So I assume you have a whole bunch of request/prompts lined up but if you ever feel like it: I would love to see Jughed with pneumonia/bronchitis. Whichever you prefer and however you prefer :)

(Thanks so much for the kind words anon!! I am so glad you share my love of making jug suffer. I absolutely love researching illnesses so this was a lot of fun to do! This became very angsty but a whole lot of tooth rotting fluff in the end! Here’s jug with pneumonia and a worried Andrews fam.)

For most of his life the bright, warm light of the sun was a beacon of hope for Jughead. The summer was a sign of hope, a signal that he had made it through the cold winter, and that everything was going to be okay. He could be with Archie and Betty all summer, and he didn’t have to constantly go home to the darkness of his own family.

However when this past summer, Betty was away on an internship and life decided to take Archie Andrews away from him, Jughead had never felt this lonely in whole life. His mom and Jellybean left him to the darkness that was surely engulfing his father, and he didn’t even have his rock, Archie to cling on to. He felt so alone, so cold in this darkness, the sun seemed to be mocking him. He’d watch all the happy people bask in the sun while he felt trapped in this personal rain cloud that would never leave him.

To keep himself alive Jughead had told himself that the winter would be better for him, for everyone. However as the winter approached and arrived, things got worse. He had been homeless, Jason had actually been murdered, his father had been arrested and there was definitely darker things in Riverdale.

It had started with a cough, a typical winter ailment that he got every year, no biggie. But a cough wasn’t meant to last this long, Jughead was convinced it wasn’t meant to hurt this much.

His cough had worsened as him, Kevin and Betty investigated the death of Jason Blossom, Jughead desperate to bring some light to Riverdale and uncover the truth. It had been a cold, cold night, the air dry and unforgiving, frosty and painful to his lungs. It rained too, the droplets of water seeming to be from a frozen lake, icy and soaking him to the core. There, they found Jason’s jacket, and the truth he found was horrifying.

The stress of the next few days did no wonders to Jughead’s declining health and mental health. When he should’ve been getting better, he lay wide awake at night, afraid to shut his eyes in fear of the nightmares that plagued him. He clutched his small blanket in the Andrews garage, shivering, wanting it all to end.

The one thing the freezing cold garage did in his favour was the fact he could cough freely, not afraid of waking Archie had he been in the air mattress. However, he couldn’t quite ignore the nagging thought at the back of his mind telling him that coughs were not meant to hurt his chest that much, that they weren’t meant to be that deep, that wet, this teeth-chattering.

The phlegm certainly wasn’t meant to be tinged with blood.

The next morning, as Jughead awoke to Archie swinging the back door open, presumably to wake him, he hadn’t felt that awful in his whole life.

His head caused the world to spin, and he couldn’t lift his head up because of how heavy he felt. His entire body was shivering, he felt so cold, literally frozen as if he had just fallen through the frozen Sweetwater River, and his teeth chattered with the cold. However, if he was so cold, he shouldn’t be radiating off heat, should he? The hot air coming out of his nostrils felt so uncomfortable.

Archie opened the door slowly, shivering lightly as he made his way into the freezing garage, immediately nervous that Jughead had spent the night here.

“Jug? You awake.”

“Yeah,” Jughead croaked out, his chest hurting, unbelievably tight. His breathing shouldn’t be this fast.

“Woah, you okay dude?”

“First thing in the morning, dude, calm your face,” Jughead joked forcefully, honestly not finding itself in him to be his regular, jokey self.

Archie noticed, worried that Jughead couldn’t even make a joke. When times got hard, Jughead could at least make a joke of his horrible situation. The fact that he couldn’t didn’t sit right with him.

“Get out of my face, Andrews. I’m going to get changed–unless you want to watch?” Jughead teased, trying to not sound congested.

Archie looked reluctant, but left anyway, making his way back to the kitchen.

Jughead walked into the kitchen, wearing one long sleeved t shirt underneath a hoodie, and a thick, shearling denim jacket on top, obviously trying to stop his shivering. However he still shook slightly, looking very pale besides his very pink cheeks and nose. His eye bags very dark against his pale skin, and his blue eyes dull and bleary.

“Morning Jughead,” Fred greeted, back facing him as he cooked the eggs.

Archie couldn’t even greet him, shocked by his appearance.

When Fred turned around, he was slightly surprised, “..Are you cold, Jug?”

Jughead shrugged, “Just a little. It is the winter after all.”

Fred didn’t even know what to do, “Jughead..uh..how are you feeling?”

Jughead looked up from the food he was playing with and gave him a forced smile, “Fine. Ready to seize the day.”

Archie and Fred didn’t even know how hey let Jughead out of the house and walk to school in the snow.

School would be a tricky situation because this was the worst possible day Jughead could be sick, Archie didn’t have any classes with him until Lunch. Meaning Archie had no way of having eyes on Jughead, and this worry prevented Archie from concentrating on any of his classes.

Jughead had spent his classes huddled going the radiator, grateful he sat at the back of the class, shivering and shaking. He felt extremely fevered, not able to concentrate on anything his teachers would say.

He was so bad, his coughing sounding so chesty and raspy that some of his classmates who had just been currently treating him like a murderer were concerned with him. Jughead squeezed his eyes shut, a hand to his chest as he struggled to breathe, his airways blocked by phlegm. He shivered with his fever, pulling his jacket closer to him and wishing he had worn more layers.

As the teacher let the class go off doing pairwork, she approached Jughead and looked at him with concern.

“You have to promise me that you’ll go to the nurse after this class, okay?” She said, worried.

Jughead’s teeth chattered, finding it hard to reply to her, “Y-yes, miss. I will.”

Of course, he didn’t.

Come geography Jughead was feeling worse, the pain in his chest as he coughed like he was being stabbed repeatedly. To make things worse he couldn’t breathe, choking on his own phlegm that refused to come out. He gasped for air, his chesty and phlegmy gasps sounding horribly weak and awful. He continued to choke, his vision growing hazy.

Ethel looked over at him and watched the pathetic display, managing to pat his back as he spat the phlegm out into a tissue she had offered him. “Jughead, please, I don’t think this is normal.”

Jughead knew at this point his voice was gone, so he only gave her a small, reassuring smile.

At the end of that class, Jughead had been wheezing yet again, walking out as he held a hand over his aching chest. He could barely breathe, his breathing short and rapid. Hell, he could feel his heart beating fast.

Jughead hacked pathetically into his arm, when a familiar pair of strong arms were holding him in place, to support him. Just a bit ago those same arms were pushing him into a locker. He looked up blearily, blue eyes watery and completely void of life.

“Go away, Reggie,” Jughead wheezed, his voice almost completely gone, a weak, raspy whisper.

“Jughead, please! You’re so sick, this isn’t normal,” Reggie pleaded, taking his shoulders. He wasn’t rough or cruel like he normally was, he was so worried and concerned, as if Jughead could just break into pieces in his arms right there. His actual name coming out of Reggie’s mouth was so weird, and his vision was just so blurry nothing felt real anymore. Jughead pushed past him, his chest on fire as he pushed himself on to the cafeteria where his friends were.

***

Kevin Keller was a hundred percent sure he had just seen a ghost.

It was the ghost of Jughead Jones, who looked like he was about to die just there, his body ready to succumb to death. The ghost of his friend approached the four of them, and the sight was so disturbing he gasped.

“Jughead?!” He yelped, causing the other three of his friends to whip around and watch as what was left of their friend approach them. He looked so awful that they didn’t even know what to do.

Jughead took his seat next to Kevin and Veronica, as if absolutely nothing was up. He didn’t say anything, looking off into the distance like his conscience was in some other plane of reality.

They were frozen, not knowing what to do.

“Jughead..?” Veronica finally said, voice quivering with fear.

The sight of him was horrifying; ghost white, looking like he was on the brink of death. Eyes sunken, with a pair of dark purple eyebags. His cheeks were flushed a horrible shade of red. He slouched, completely drained and unable to sit upright His entire frame shook like some sort of epicentre for an earthquake. He was the perfect image of illness. It was haunting.

Suddenly, Jughead erupted in the most horrendous fit he had yet, entire body convulsing like he had been possessed by a demon. He hacked, choking on his own phlegm. His entire body was shivering, gasping for air, short and rapid. His chest was on fire, someone was stabbing him with a flaming knife, viciously and brutally. It hurt so much.

He felt a ringing in his ears, all he could sense was the pain of his chest, and could faintly feel Kevin slapping his back, and Veronica feeling his pulse.

“Guys, it’s so fast!” Veronica screamed.

Jughead finally spat out the phlegm, tinged with blood.

“Oh my god!” Archie yelled and jumped out of his seat and ran, with Reggie Mantle running after him, hot on his heels as they ran for help.

“Juggy!” Betty screamed, crying.

Jughead looked up to see his hysteric friends, and all the worried other people, making out Ethel, and hell, even Cheryl Blossom looked terrified. There was screaming, too much was happening. His head pounded, vision shaking and blurring, breathing short and rapid. His attempts to breathe for longer hurt his chest, a sharp, stinging pain. His entire body ached, he felt like he was on fire, and yet shaking and shivering. Suddenly, he became void of all senses. He couldn’t feel anything.

Then there was darkness.

***

Archie paced the hospital hallway, his chest feeling right. He felt so anxious, breathing heavily. The hospital was so white, it was terrifying. So clean and orderly.

“Yes, Sheriff, I understand you can’t just allow random calls at random times, but please, FP deserves to know,” Fred argued on the phone, just as anxious as Archie.

A few minutes later, Sheriff gave up and handed the phone to FP.

“FP? I don’t even know how to say this,” Fred whispered guiltily.

“What is it, Fred? You here to finally admit I was better at the guitar than you?” FP joked.

“..No, Forsythe, it’s Jughead. He’s really sick, he passed out. We’re at the hospital–I don’t know what’s wrong, but he was coughing blood..”

FP was silent.

Eventually he’s spoke, “That’s my boy, Fred.”

“I know, FP, you just deserved to know.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. That’s my boy who never gave up on me. That boy who’s kind to everyone but what did he do to deserve this? This ain’t fucking fair! I can’t lose him! I love him so much, Fred! I don’t even think he knows that, Fred.”

“He knows that, FP. Listen, we’ll keep you posted, okay? The doctors will be out in a little bit.”

They continued to speak for a while but Archie couldn’t listen anymore, way too afraid. Once Fred hung up, Archie looked at him, tears in his eyes.

“Dad, he’s gonna be okay, right?” Archie whimpered, sounding so young.

Fred swallowed, “He’s a tough kid, Archie. He’ll pull through.”

“He shouldn’t have to be the tough kid,” Archie choked, tears streaming down his face.

“Arch,” Fred cooed, coming close to his son and holding him, kissing his forehead.

“I know Archie, he shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have made him feel unwelcome, I shouldn’t have let him go this morning. I’m so sorry Archie, blame me all you want, but I care for him too. I will do all in my power to make him better again, okay?” Fred whispered softly as Archie cried into his chest.

“I’m so scared,” Archie cried.

Fred sniffled, swallowing, “Me too, Arch.”

***

Half an hour later, one of the doctors came out of Jughead’s room.

“Mr Andrews?” She said softly.

“Yes, that’s me,” Fred piped up, as Archie who was asleep on his shoulder woke up immediately, rushing to her.

“I’m glad to be informing you Mr Jones will be just alright,” She smiled brightly.

Archie made an overwhelmed, happy noise, he lunged and hugged the doctor, “thank you thank you thank you thank you!!”

Archie pulled away and blushed, “Oh, sorry.”

The doctor laughed, “That is quite alright.”

Fred cleared his throat, “What’s wrong with him, doc?”

“Pneumonia. He had it pretty bad, as you know from what happened at the school, but we’ve patched him up enough so that there will be no negative effects later in life and that he should be better in two or three weeks.”

Fred sighed softly, “That’s great.”

“He will need continuous usage of antibiotics and must not leave the house, must get good sleep and rest,” She explained.

Archie looked anxious, “When will he be discharged?”

“He must stay for about a week for now, but he will be allowed visitors. In fact, would you like to visit him now? He’s awake.”

“Yes! Please!” Archie said excitedly.

“This way, then,” The Doctor instructed as she held the doors open for the two of them and let them in.

“Oh my god, Jug!” Archie exclaimed as he saw Jughead sitting up, joking about something with one of the doctors.

Jughead looked over to see Archie and smiled, and gasped softly as Archie tackled him into a hug.

“Arch–” Jughead said softly, slightly suffocated.

Archie gasped, “Sorry!”

Jughead laughed, still raspy but a lot less deathly sounding, “It’s fine.”

“You really scared me, Jughead! The whole school thought you were dead!” Archie exclaimed.

Fred chuckled, “That really was quite a scare, Jughead.”

“Sorry about that,” Jughead said sheepishly.

Fred looked at Archie then sighed, “no kid, we should be sorry-no, I should be. I’m so sorry I made it seem like you weren’t welcome here, you are just as much of family as Archie is to me. Y'know, when FP called me to say Gladys was having his child Mary and I drove to the hospital with little Archie. When you were born, we were all together, we were all a family. We still are a family.”

Jughead smiled softly, but scrunched his nose, “Ew, so you’re telling me that this rat here is one of the first things I ever saw?!”

Archie laughed heartily.

Fred laughed, “That’s quite right. Jughead, FP and I made sure that as blood brothers, we had to take care of each other’s sons. I told FP that what if his son was a little shit? Well, you are a little shit, but you really are a great kid, Jug. We care about you so much. When you get discharged, I’m going to make sure that when you go home, it is a home.”

Jughead smiled softly, “I’m sorry for pushing you away and withdrawing.”

Archie shook his head, “We never should have let you disappear.”

Jughead groaned, “Stop fighting with me, I’m sick, let’s just all agree we all fucked up!”

They all laughed.

Just then, Jughead began to cough again, eyes squeezed shut at the burning sensation of his cough, wet and deep. Before he started to choke, a nearby doctor coaxed the coughs out. He spat out into a tissue and threw it into the wastebin, finally resting against the pillow and took a good minute to catch his breath.

“Poor kid,” Fred muttered softly, taking in the pale features of his second son and approached him, pushing back the messy black curls that had fallen into his face as he coughed.

Archie watched in concern, wondering how he could help when his phone buzzed, opening it to see Veronica was facetiming.

“Ooh! I think they want to see you!” Archie grinned.

Jughead flipped his hair, “Of course they want to see the absolute beauty that is moi!”

Archie answered the call, coming close to Jughead so they could see him, to see Kevin, Veronica, Betty, Reggie, Ethel and oddly, Cheryl in the frame.

“HE’S ALIVE!” Kevin squealed.

“Lookin’ good, Wednesday Adams,” Reggie teased, pointing at his hospital gown and all the tubes in him.

“Jughead, you scared the shit out of us!!” Veronica exclaimed.

“Juggie, I’m so glad you’re okay!” Betty cooed.

“Get better soon, Jughead!” Ethel smiled.

“Ugh, he’s alive, guys. Can we all go now?” Cheryl rolled her eyes, but they could all see that Cheryl was secretly relieved and happy.

They spoke for a while, and as the call ended Fred started to call the Sheriff.

***

“Fred! Is my boy okay?!” FP breathed out through Fred’s phone.

“Hi dad,” Jughead said softly.

“Oh my god, Jug..Jug! You’re okay..thank god! I was beginning to think..it’s so good to hear your voice..”

“I’ll survive, dad.”

“You just might.”

Jughead could faintly hear the Sheriff telling FP he didn’t have much time.

“Listen–Jug, I don’t have a lot of time..”

“I love you, dad,” Jughead whimpered.

FP froze.

“I love you too, Jug,” FP choked, clearly teary.

“I miss you so much,” Jughead sniffled, one tear rolling down his cheek.

“I miss you so much Jug, there’s not one day that passed by where I wish we were all together. But I did bad things, Jughead, inexcusable. I need to pay for what I did. You understand that, don’t you, Jug?”

“I do.”

“..I am so sorry, Jughead. For not being the father I should’ve been, the one you deserve. I’m so sorry about this, but please know that I never for one second stopped loving you,” FP whispered.

“I know dad, I know. I never gave up, I never will,” Jughead cried.

“You’ll be okay, you’ll pull through. C'mon lion, brave through it and seize the day, I know you can,” FP chuckled.

“I will dad, I always do,” Jughead whispered.

“I’ll come home to you someday,” FP managed to say before Sheriff Keller took the phone back.

Jughead bit back a sob, whispering to himself, “I know you will.”

***

The morning he was to be discharged, Jughead began to gather all his Get Well Soon presents. He coughed, not quite as chesty or deep as it had been, and certainly did not feel like he was being stabbed repeatedly. He smiled fondly as he looked at them.

A beautifully crafted handmade card from Ethel, a not so beautifully crafted handmade card from Reggie, a fancy card from Veronica with some luxury gourmet chocolates and snacks, a simple, pretty card from Betty and a container of her signature soup, a nice card from Kevin who had sent some snacks, and a bit of money from Cheryl who helped pay for some of the hospital bill and medicine. The family was loaded, and her parents didn’t even notice she took some.

Jughead hadn’t felt so loved in so long. The winter seemed to be just a bit brighter.

And finally, a picture of Jughead, Archie and Fred during movie night on top of an application for Legal Guardianship.

“Ready to go home, Jug?” Archie grinned.

“Born ready.”

#jughead jones #archie andrews #fp jones #fred andrews #betty cooper #veronica lodge #riverdale #sickfic #prompts #pneumonia #fever

30 notes · View notes

dawmoon · 7 years

Text

silver linings

summary: "Um," says Lance, waving his fingers around a little bit, "It looks cool. You should try it." "We are not going to waste our time to paint our nails so we can match." deadpans Kolivan. "Well sure," says Lance, "but don't come crawling back to us when you can't defeat Lotor 'cause you refused to harness the power of friendship. /OR/ The one with Lance as nail polish god, a surprising amount of homesickness, and memes.

a/n: okay, wanted to post this before s3 so the last bits don’t get contradicted by canon!

my brain: you know, you should be working on those post s2 fics you wanted to write before s3 comes out so they don't get disproved by canon me: *writes a fifteen page long fic about space fam bonding over nail polish instead*

some good old space family bonding time, because i just adore space fam :3 there's so much fluff in this, guys. so much

p.s, all interactions in here are purely platonic bc the vld archive desperately needs more works that are gen and non romantic. i guess the only thing that could be considered non platonic is lance's small crush on allura (which i don't really like and find icky, but it's canon, so i had to stick with canon :/) .

other than that, reviews and comments always make my day, even if it’s a smiley face, and constructive criticism is appreciated as well :D enjoy!

(also, unrelated to the fic, but vld s3 is coming out tonight!!! i don’t have netflix, but if you guys know a place where i can watch it, i would literally owe you my life if you drop the name in a reply/ask/e.t.c)

ao3 & ffn

Lance finds them at the Terran store, the one that's hidden away in the little nook of the space mall.

Okay, technically, Lance wasn't supposed to slip away to go visit the Terran store. He had strict orders from Allura to go to an Unilu trade post and barter for some more spare parts that they needed. After their recent fight with Lotor, the castle was in dire need of repair, and the parts they needed weren't any they had in commission. He knows he should be following those very strict orders - Lord knows that Allura's stressed enough, with Shiro's disappearance and Lotor on the rise and whatnot - but he couldn't help but feel drawn to the quirky little shop, with it's little trinkets and memories from a home he's not sure he'll be able to return to. Sue him.

And it's when he's browsing through the alien's collection of vinyl records that he spots them - a cracked black box full of bottles with wands that are chipped and glass that had become discolored but are unmistakably -

"Nail polish!" gasps Lance.

He darts over and pulls out the box, paying no attention to the other items he had shoved aside to get a better look. There are almost twenty of those tiny bottles, some bright and neon and some shimmering and glittery. Lance feels like he's in a daze as he pulls one out and examines the color - a bright warm peach that he could have sworn was his on his younger sister's hand as she waved him goodbye when he had left for the Garrison.

The store owner touches his shoulder, and Lance jumps, almost dropping the box and it's precious contents. He grips it a little tighter to ensure it's safety.

The alien grins up at him. "I see you've taken an interest in these poisons."

Lance stares at him. "These what now?"

The alien nods, clearly expecting him to be impressed. "Poisons from Terra. Won't cause death, but will cause immediate sickness and illness for the following two weeks if ingested. I know; I've tried."

Lance doesn't have the heart to tell him that that is not what the intended use for nail polish is. "How much?" is what he asks instead.

The alien grins, revealing uneven yellow teeth that Lance tried really hard not to curl his lips in disgust at. "Got it out for someone, eh?" Before Lance can respond with a no, he's got a Voltron to do that for him, the alien says "82 gac."

Lance sets the box aside to turn his back on the owner and thumb through the thick stack of gac that Coran had given them all before they had split up in the space mall. They're supposed to be spent on the parts, but damn, Lance is not leaving this site without those nail polishes. He curses when he comes short on just ten of the gac. Turning back to the alien with a sheepish smile, he asks, "Is there any chance that you'll give a discount for a defender of the universe?"

The alien sniffs in disdain. "82 gac or nothing."

Lance sighs, already feeling the tender hope in his chest being crushed. He casts a longing look at the box as he makes to walk out of the store.

"Wait!" The alien calls as he steps one foot out the door. "I'll make a cut! 50 gac! For the box!"

Lance grins as he heads back into the shop. "Deal."

-o-O-o-

Allura pinches the bridge of her nose. "So let me get this straight. You spent 50 of the gac you were supposed to use on the parts we needed for-"

"Nail polish." Lance supplies.

"Did you happen to but any of the parts that were requested?" Allura asks. She says this calmly, but Lance can tell that she's hiding her frustration underneath that perfect princess voice.

"Well, I got some." Lance holds up the bag the Unilu gave him to hold the parts in. Or rather, part.

Allura states at him before sighing, dropping her head into the palm of her hand. Lance feels a sliver of guilt, but he can't deny how giddy he feels over his newly purchased nail polish.

"Coran will just have to make another trip to the mall." Allura sends him a death glare. "Fortunately, we are still in the city. Otherwise, you would have been in for it."

Lance gulps. He has no problem in believing that.

He gestures to the door. "So, can I just skedaddle or...?"

"You may 'skedaddle'." says Allura, eyebrows drawing together at the unfamiliar Earthen term.

"Sweet." says Lance, and with a little wave, he walks out of the control room.

"Dude," whispers Hunk from behind his hiding spot in the crook behind the door. "You're lucky you didn't get burned alive."

"Hunk," says Lance, "the princess would never lay waste on such a handsome face."

Hunk looks amused as he claps him on the shoulder."You keep telling yourself that. Hey, is it true that you got nail polish?"

Lance grins at the excitement in his friend's voice. "Heck yeah I did. A whole box of 'em too."

Hunk makes a little sound. "Oh man, it's been so long since I've painted my nails. Can I try some?"

"Of course you can!" Lance says. "It'll be just like old times too, except Beyonce won't be playing in the background."

Hunk laughs, and for a moment Lance forgets that they're on a spaceship far far away from home. They're just two boys ready to get a makeover.

-o-O-o-

It's nice to be able to sit back and relax and just forget about the fact that they're just a couple of kids hurtling through space in an ancient castle ship, Lance thinks.

Currently, he's perched atop Hunk's bed with his friend's hand in his own, painting the nails with slow, deliberate strokes. Hunk had run his fingers over the neat little rainbow of tarnished bottles, lips pulling into a happy smile as he had chosen a rich purple from the nail polish box, and Lance has to admit it compliments his skin quite well.

"Dude," says Hunk. "You don't have to grip my hands so hard."

Lance sighs and eases up a little. "Sorry." says Lance. "I haven't done this in such a long time."

He goes back to painting the little pinkie finger on Hunk's right hand with an unbreakable focus, tongue sticking out and all.

"What color should I pick next time?" Hunk muses out loud. "Remember that bright orange color your sister had? Oh man, it was the prettiest color. I would kill to have that here right now."

"I'm think there's an orange in the back," says Lance. "It's no Radioactive Banana, but it'll do."

"It was Sun Spots." corrects Hunk. "I wish you still had the glittery nail polish from the Garrison. Remember, Lance, how you would always sneak out to get it from that convenience store down the block?"

Lance laughs a little. "Oh yeah, I got morning detention for a month. And Professor Jenkins gave me so much demerits when she saw my blue nails. But it was so worth it."

He finishes Hunk's right hand and sets it aside, placing his other hand on his thigh. "I always liked the convenience store, though." continues Lance, dipping the wand in the bottle. "Cause they always had those glowy stars on the ceiling that reminded me of-"

"-your mom 'cause she always used to hang them up in your room." finishes Hunk. He's still smiling but it seems to have dulled down a bit.

Lance's thoughts seem to have trailed off and he leans back slightly, nail polish wand clutched between his fingers. "And you liked the manager because she was sweet and nice and reminded you of your gramma."

Hunk laughs and shakes his head a little. "Yeah," he says. "My gramma was the best." His voice wobbles a little at the end and Lance swallows, throat feeling very dry.

The two of them sit in silence for a while, nail polish forgotten, and Lance is blinking back sudden tears.

"Are you crying?" asks Hunk, his own voice teetering on waterworks.

"No." Lance wheezes out. "Are you?"

He shakes his head and points an accusatory finger at Lance. "I'm not, but you are!"

Which is a total lie, because Lance is not crying, there's just probably some space dust that he's allergic to. And Hunk is sitting right in front of him, sniffling and wiping at the corner of his eyes, so there's that.

"So are you." Lance points out, his voice wobbly.

Hunk sniffs. "We're both crying dude."

Lance hiccups and he can't tell if it's from laughter or from tears. "So we are."

Hunk moves a little, as if he were to hug him, but Lance stops him by placing a hand in his chest. "You don't wanna ruin your nails." he croaks.

Instead of listening to his advice, Hunk simply swats away his hand and gathers him into a hug. "I think my friend is more important than nails."

Lance totally does not break down right there and then. He totally manages to keep his cool. Yup.

(The truth is, the stains on both of their shirts, water tracks on Hunk's and smeared purple on the back of Lance's, tell a different story.)

-o-O-o-

Lance is sitting at the kitchen table, debating on whether to paint his nails a cheery yellow or a deep blue for his best girl. The kitchen table has sort of become the Place to paint your nails - back on Earth, the Place was on the rocking swing with the little blue pillows on the porch - and though it could be a little more spruced up, Lance enjoys the small comfort he finds in painting his nails on the marble top.

Keith wanders in just when he plucks out the blue bottle, deciding to save yellow for another day. He spares him a glance before going to the cabinet and searching for a plate probably.

"Hunk put all the plates under the sink because he was cleaning the cabinet." Lance calls out without looking up from unscrewing the bottle.

Keith moves over to the sink and rustles around for a bit before finding the intended object. "Thanks."

Lance clicks his tongue - he really likes that sound - and starts painting his left thumb. He won't admit it out loud, but he rather enjoys the easy companionship he and Keith have fallen into. As much fun as bickering is, he almost feels normal when they work around each other seamlessly - like some sort of space ranger partners.

Keith settles down in the seat across from Lance's and plops some food goo onto his plate. Lance doesn't look up from his nails, but he can feel Keith glancing at him as he shovels the food goo into his mouth.

"What are you doing?" asks Keith after his fourth spoonful.

"Nail polish." says Lance, and he extends his arm in Keith's direction so he can see the first two nails he's already painted. "Ever heard of it?"

Keith frowns a little - it's more of a confused face, really. He takes Lance's hand in his own and inspects it. "So you just put paint on your nails?"

Lance shrugs. "Yeah, pretty much."

He puts Lance's hand back down and learns back. "Oh. Cool."

"It is cool." agrees Lance.

He goes back to painting with careful and deliberate strokes, still aware of Keith's gaze on his hand. When it gets a little too much - because as much as Lance loves attention, sometimes too much can be uncomfortable - he looks up to Keith. "Would you like to try it?"

"Me?" asks Keith. He looks startled and Lance thinks it's adorable.

"Sure, why not?" says Lance with a small smile. "Who knows, maybe Lotor will tremble before the mighty power of painted nails."

That seems to get a smile out of Keith - a small one, but a smile no less - which Lance considers a victory.

"Sure,why not?" says Keith, still grinning, and Lance feels himself start to grin.

"Kay, pick a color." Lance shoves the box of polishes to Keith, who squints at the different labels on each one.

It's been a full minute and Keith is still looking through the box and Lance is about to tell him that picking a color is not that intense, when Keith brings out one bottle.

"Cherry Sunset?" he reads aloud, shrugging and handing the bottle to Lance.

Cherry Sunset is a red, bold and bright. It suits Keith. Lance tells Keith exactly that, to which he just hums in response.

"You didn't finish your nails." Keith points out, and Lance glances at his unpainted fingers.

"It's okay, I'll just do them later." he says. "Now, I know this a lot to ask from you, but you need to hold still."

Keith frowns but complies.

"Why'd you choose red?" asks Lance when he finishes with Keith's index finger, breaking the stillness that had fallen between them.

"I guess it reminded me of Red." says Keith.

Lance looks up from the finger that he's been painting. Keith's face is a mystery, but he swears he detects a bit of sadness. "You miss her, don't you?"

Keith's brows furrow immediately, and Lance can sense him locking up, but to his surprise, he takes one long exhale and nods. "Yeah." says Keith, voice softer than he's ever heard. "Yeah, I do."

Lance takes a good long look at Keith. He had always seen Keith Kogane, the fastest and best fighter pilot at the Garrison, the red and now black paladin, the fearless and bold soldier of the universe.

Now? Now, Lance sees Keith Kogane, the boy with too much responsibility thrust on his shoulders, the boy that missed his magic metal cat.

It feels like he's seeing him for the first time.

He looks back down at Keith's nail and focuses on painting the fifth nail. "I know how you feel." says Lance, hoping it's a small comfort. "I miss Blue."

"Yeah?" responds Keith, lips quirking up in the smallest of smiles.

"Yeah."

They sit in silence for the rest of the time. It's not bad, but they don't get into an argument for once, which Lance considers a plus.

-o-O-o-

Pidge walks into his room one day, spooking Lance from his place under the covers.

"Pidge!" he calls out indignantly. "What are you doing in my room?"

Instead of answering his question, she just drops onto his bed and presses a tablet in his face.

"Is this what I think it is?" demands Pidge.

Lance squints a little. "Is that Keith's hand? Man, do you have some weird hand fetish that I don't know about?"

"Lance." she snaps. "He has nail polish?"

Her tone is full of disbelief - not the rude type, more like the 'How the hell did you find nail polish in space?' type.

Lance squints a little bit more, before realizing, duh, he was the one that had painted Keith's nails. "So he does."

Pidge turns to him, eyes shining behind thick rimmed glasses. "Nobody told me that there was nail polish in space!"

"Oh yeah, I found a bunch at the space mall!" says Lance, grinning a little at Pidge's little gasp. "Though I have to admit, I never thought nail polish would be your thing."

"Nail polish is not my thing." admits Pidge. "However, it is an activity that I do enjoy a lot. Or rather, I did enjoy."

Lance turns towards her. "Why do you even have a picture of Keith's hand anyways?"

She smirks. "Security cams. Gotta make sure the guy doesn't decapitate himself by pushing too hard at the training bots."

Lance takes this into consideration and shrugs. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

She nudges his shoulder. "Sooo?"

"So?"

"Can I try them on?" asks Pidge.

"Hmm." Lance props his chin up on his knuckles, raising an eyebrow at her. "I don't know if you're special enough to use them."

He's teasing, of course, but Pidge crosses her arms and raises her own eyebrow for a dry response.

"You let Keith, your self proclaimed rival, use it." she says. "I think I exceed special by this point."

Touche. Lance laughs at her and walks to where the drawers are, pulling open the first one and grabbing his box of nail polish. "Alright, let's do this."

Pidge holds up a finger. "Wait, I wanna do your nails!"

Lance just hums in response. "Okay. C'mon, we're doing this at the kitchen table."

"Why the kitchen table?"

"It's the Place!" says Lance. They walk out of his room and to the dining room, Pidge making a weird face at him. "What, you've never heard a Place? You know, where you paint your nails?"

"You know," Pidge says, pulling out a chair when they reach the dining table. "We're talking out loud, but I'm positive that how you're saying the Place, it has a capital P in it."

Lance smirks. "It sure does! Now, I'm in the mood for yellow nails today."

Pidge picks out the yellow bottle and frowns when she sees the discoloration of the glass. "Are you sure this stuff is even safe to use?"

He shrugs. "Who knows? Do you want to paint nails or not?"

She huffs, but unscrews the lid. Unlike Lance's painting spree with Keith, they don't sit in silence for most of the time, instead choosing to ramble about different mishaps with their siblings and paint. Pidge is laughing so hard, Lance thinks he'll end up with paint smudging his skin, but the brush never strays from his nail. By the time Lance finishes his story about how his sister Estefani had managed to lock his other sister Sofia into a box for stealing her nail stickers, Pidge is finished painting with yellow, screwing the bottle up and placing it back into the neat little rainbow.

"Wow, Pidge, these look really nice." says Lance.

"Oh, I'm not finished." says Pidge. "I haven't even done designs yet."

He raises an eyebrow. "Designs?"

She pays no attention to him, instead looking for a particular color and exclaiming in delight when she brings out the white.

"My mom always used to put daisies on my nails." says Pidge, and Lance seem the way her eyes dim a bit. It suddenly hits him that Pidge and him are alike; they both have the same longing for a mother they're not sure they'll see again.

Pidge clears her throat, pushing her glasses up her nose. "What design would you like?"

He snaps up and thinks for a bit before it occurs to him. "Suns! Suns are nice."

"Suns it is."

She swirls tiny suns into his nails with white, and when she's finished, Lance is in awe. He makes a mental note to snap some pics of them later with Pidge's phone.

"How am I supposed to do anything else with these nails when they look so good?" he cries out dramatically.

Pidge rolls her eyes. "You don't have to make a big deal out of it."

There's a smile on her face nevertheless.

-o-O-o-

Lance has to stop Coran from pouring the nail polish in his mouth one day to see what it tastes like.

"No!" he shrieks, grabbing the vial from Coran's hand, just about to be tipped into his mouth. "Not for drinking!"

One of Coran's bushy orange eyebrows raises up. "Not for drinking? Why not?"

"They could make you very sick, Coran."

"Doesn't that seem a bit dangerous to have lying around the dining room then?"

Lance sighs. "It's not their intended purpose to hurt someone. And they weren't supposed to be lying around; Pidge must have forgotten to put them back after she did Hunk's nails."

Coran strokes his mustache, and not for the first time Lance wonders how he gets it curled just like that. "So what do you do with these, ah, little bottles?"

Lance smirks. "Nail polish. It's nail polish. And it's just paint you put on your nails. See, look what Pidge did last week."

By now, the yellow paint on his nails have chipped away at the edges (Lance secretly mourns the loss of protective topcoat in space), but Coran seems fascinated as examines the fingers on the hand Lance puts forward.

"They're cute." he comments. "Now, how exactly would you get around to, ah, nail polishing the nails?"

Lance is surprised for a second, but pushes it away. "Do you want to paint your nails? I could do them for you."

Coran beams and gives him a hearty clap on the back.

-o-O-o-

Allura wanders in halfway, tablet in hand and snowy hair pulled into a messy ponytail. She looks inquisitively at the two of them.

"What are you two doing?"

"Lance is nail polishing my nails!" Coran calls out cheerfully.

Allura frowns and walks over to them, bending down. "Let me see."

Lance holds up Coran's four fingers that he's painted pink. "I could do yours too, if you wanted." he offers hesitantly.

Allura looks at the fingers, then grins. "Yes, I would like to try this nail paint."

She sits down and watches Lance finish up Coran's second hand and dot the pink with white polkadots, which please Coran greatly.

He turns and flashes Allura a smile. "Which color do you want me to paint your nails?"

Allura ponders over the choices offered to her. "Hmm, blue."

Lance knows why, but he can't help but ask, "Why blue?"

"So I can match with the Blue Lion!" says Allura brightly.

It's been a couple of weeks since the lion switch happened, but Lance's stomach still swoops down when he thinks about Allura piloting Blue. He doesn't hold it against her of course; the spots needed to be filled and this was the only way, but he still can't help but feel a little sad that Allura gets to pilot Blue, his best girl.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure Blue will appreciate the gesture." Lance forces a grin as be untwists the cap on the bottle of blue.

"I hope so."

Lance starts painting the first nail on Allura's hand. "So, hey, Allura, do you like piloting a lion?"

Allura smiles really big, a pretty sight that could probably rival sunsets. "Of course! All my life, I remember wanting to be a paladin."

"Plus, you get a really cute outfit." comments Lance, and Allura laughs.

"That too. I remember my father showing it to me for the first time when I was fifteen and I wanted it to have more sparkles."

Lance snorts at the image of Allura's pink armor, covered in sequins and miscellaneous shiny stuff. "That would be a sight to see."

"The Blue Lion likes sparkles, I've noticed."

Lance thinks that is intentional, to bait him into talking about Blue. Nevertheless, his lips curl into a smile. "Yeah, she does! The blue bayard sometimes does this thing where it shoots sparkles, and, like, Blue goes crazy everytime I show it to her."

Allura flaps her free hand in excitement. "I know! It's very cute, she also likes it when I shine a red light and she tries to catch it."

Lance laughs. "Yeah, she's adorable. You know Earth cats do that to?"

"Really?"

And so they lose themselves in talk of Earthern cats and giant metal cats. Lance finally finishes painting her nails. There are laugh lines creasing the corners of Allura's eyes and she actually looks like a teenager and Lance thinks that he likes this face better than the face she makes when he throws some dumb pickup line her way.

"I can see why you wasted money to get these paints." Allura says, stretching her hand so she can see her nails. "They look very nice, Lance."

Lance ignores the urge to make a comment about the wasting money part (it was money well spent, not wasted, and he won't hear it any other way) and gives her a smile instead. "You're welcome, Princess. There's a reason why they call me nail polish god."

Allura rolls her eyes, but stands up and makes her way to the door. Halfway, she turns to look at Lance, face posed in a thoughtful expression. "You know, Lance, the Blue Lion misses you."

His throat squeezes up and he feels really emotional all of a sudden. "That's - I miss her too."

She offers him a grin, and it's sort of sad, and before she can leave the door, Lance calls out to her.

"You know, if I find some, I could probably add some sequins or glitter to make them sparkly."

He has to bite his lips to keep from laughing out loud at how fast Allura's face lights up. "You can make them sparkly?"

-o-O-o-

Lance wakes up to the sound of scuffling.

He keeps his eyes shut because he can hear at least one other person in his room, and he's curious as to why they're here.

A voice that sounds suspiciously like Pidge's mutters inconspicuously. "Where did he put them...Aha!"

"Did you find them?" another voice asks.

Lance has to keep himself from turning his head, but he's pretty sure that was Allura's voice he just heard. And that meant she and Pidge were in his room, rummaging through his stuff while he was sleeping. What the quiznak.

"Yep." says the first voice, which Lance is positive is Pidge by now. "Lance is not very good at hiding things."

His cheeks burn and he has half a mind to get up right now and demand that they answer why they're searching through his stuff, but he's curious as to why they're here, so he remains quiet. For now.

"What did Lance call them?" asks Allura. "Name polling?"

Pidge snickers. "It's nail polish, princess. C'mon, let's do this thing before he wakes up."

There are a couple more scraping sounds of what he assumes are the two of them pulling up chairs by his bedside. He hears them settling in and somebody takes his hand.

(He hopes it's Allura.)

"How does one polish the nail again?" asks Allura, and Lance can almost picture the confused lilt of her head as she turns to Pidge.

"You take the wand - you see the cap? that's the wand - and then you dip it into the bottle and then you paint the nails." says Pidge. "Here I'll show you."

A smaller hand grips his and Lance assumes that she's doing a quick few brushes before she hands it over to Allura again.

"The three line rule is an easy way to get the hang of it - one line down the middle, and then two to the side. You wait for that to dry, before you add another coat. You think you got it?"

"I think so."

Allura takes his hand, and Lance allows himself to grin the tiniest bit before he conceals it up so his cover isn't blown. There's a silence, one that is broken by Pidge's advice - "Keep his arm away from you, that'll make it easier." - and Lance feels himself drifting to sleep.

"You know, this is oddly soothing." comments Allura. "I can see why Lance likes this activity so much."

Pidge hums in response. "Yeah, apparently Lance used to do his sibling's nails all of the time."

Lance is touched - Pidge has been listening to his homesick ramblings after all.

What Allura says next grabs his attention. "Do you really think that this will cheer Lance up?"

"Oh yeah." responds Pidge. "The weird emo funky mood he's in should dissipate once he sees these good looking nails."

Okay, Lance has not been in a weird emo funky mood as Pidge described. Yes, he has been feeling a bit down, which is to be expected when one is fighting an endless fight against an evil alien dictator thousands of light years away from the people and planet you loved, but he thought he had hidden it well. Apparently, he was not as good as an actor as he thought he was.

"There." says Allura, startling Lance out of his thoughts. "I finished polishing his nails with this paint. Is that it?"

"Hold on." says Pidge, rustling a little as she takes the wand from Allura. "I'll show you how to make a tiny sun on his nails. Those are Lance's favorite."

Lance thanks the heavens that Allura and Pidge don't look up from their task because it looks like he's grimacing from how hard he's trying not to smile.

-o-O-o-

It's Keith who comes up with the idea first.

It had been after a hard battle against Lotor. Victory was on their side, but the battle had been long and strenuous and had left them all drained of energy. They had all been laying in the communal area, still in their paladin armor with their helmets tossed aside. Nobody said anything, but there was a feeling of hopelessness in the air. Far too many sighs had been flung out in the air, and Lance was beginning to think that maybe he should just move to his room to mope in silence.

Then Keith had opened his mouth to say something. Lance had immediately tended up, waiting for an insult or provocation to be thrown his way (although, those now happened from far in between, but they were still rivals okay, and rivals didn't have much nice things to say to each other. At least, Lance is pretty sure they don't.)

"What if-" Keith starts of, voice kind of shaky, but then sighs and drops his shoulders. "Never mind."

This piques Lance's attention, and he lifts his head from where it's laying on the couch to get a better look at him. "What if what, Keith?"

"Yeah, what if what?" Hunk pipes up, and Lance silently thanks the universe for having a friend like Hunk who'll back him up when nobody else does.

"What if - we got matching nails?" Keith looks unsure but almost kind of hopeful.

"Keith, you had me at matching nails." says Hunk, "Because, you know, friendship and camaraderie and all that stuff. But why do you want them? No offense."

"Well, team colors right?" says Keith. His voice is getting steadier - not as steady as it could be, but steadier. "It could show people that we're united, and the whole theme of Voltron is unity and working together, right?"

Lance, personally, thinks this is an excellent idea and tells Keith so. And as he's sprinting to his room to get the treasured box of polishes, a thought crosses his mind that maybe rivals aren't supposed to feel this happy at making each other smile.

Huh, Lance thinks.

-o-O-o-

Lance is in the middle of painting Allura's third finger black - they were choosing to paint one hand in the color and order of their lions, which Pidge had commented on that it looked like a stop light, which was ridiculous because stoplights don't have black and blue, Pidge - when Hunk starts humming a tune that Lance recognizes.

He grins sharply and starts to hum along too, letting his shoulders shake to the tune slightly.

"What are you humming?" Allura inquires, and Lance can literally feel his smile widening maybe a bit too much.

"Oh this tune?" Lance waves his hand in a nonchalant manner. "This is a song revered by many on Earth."

Lance doesn't turn his head, but he can tell that Hunk is trying really hard to stifle his giggles because he just heard a big cough.

Allura's eyebrows scrunch up together, and if Lance wasn't preparing to drop his finest shit post, he would have awwwed internally on how cute it looked. "Revered?"

"Oh yes!" says Lance, nodding his head. "Would you like to hear the lyrics?"

"Why not?" says Allura, and Lance takes a split second to look at Hunk before they're belting out the lyrics to Rick Astley's 'Never Gonna Give You Up' in perfect synchrony.

Pidge looks up from the invention she's been tinkering with and groans loudly. "You guys are killing me. You're killing your best friend here."

Even Keith seems to recoil a bit from the unexpected song. "Did you guys just Rickroll Allura . . . verbally?"

"Keith knows what a Rickroll is!" crows Lance. "And yes I did! Add verbally rickrolling an alien to my list of accomplishments, please!"

"I don't understand." says Allura. "Lance says this song is revered, yet you two seem to have a dislike for it?"

"It's a shitpost thing, princess." says Pidge, like that clears everything up for an alien who's never been to Earth.

Allura shakes her head a little. "Earthlings are quite strange." she mutters to Coran, who's been perched on the couch next to her, knitting what appears to be mouse socks.

"I've learned not to question their ways." says Coran cheerfully.

Lance and Hunk finish the song, with Pidge even joining in towards the end. Hunk collapses to the floor in laughter and Lance has to take a moment away from Allura's nails so he can wipe the tears that have formed. Even Keith seems to smile a bit, but when Lance looks at him, his face goes back to its neutral state. Allura just looks happy that they're all happy and Pidge is still grinning and chuckling to herself.

It hits Lance that he loves his friends so freaking much. If he had to be stuck in space with six other people, Lance thinks, he's glad it was with these specific six.

He voices this exact sentiment with his friends.

Allura tilts her head to the side, looking a little fond. "That was oddly sweet of you, Lance."

"Hey! I can be a nice guy when I want!" says Lance.

Allura reaches over to give Lance's hand a little squeeze with the hand that she had chosen to paint blue. "I'm glad that you guys were the people I'm stuck in space with too."

"Same." says Hunk, and Pidge nods in agreement.

"You guys are the first family I've ever had." says Keith, and everyone kind of stops what they're doing to turn to look at him, even Lance, who's kind of freaking out over the fact that Allura is holding his hand.

"What?" Keith says defensively.

"Keeiith," Lance grins so big, it could touch his ears. "Who knew you were such a softie?"

"Guys, I think this calls for a group hug." says Hunk as he wraps his arms around Keith. Keith looks like he's going to protest, but he just sighs and goes to hug Hunk too. Lance joins in too, going in from behind Hunk and Pidge has to hug Keith's waist cause she's so tiny. Even Allura joins in, and Coran too, all while wiping away a tear, bless his soul. For a moment everything feels fine. Not perfect, but maybe, just maybe they could just make it.

Then, of course, Kolivan comes in and ruins everything.

Okay, so Lance might be exaggerating. Kolivan doesn't ruin anything, but he does disrupt the small glow of friendship that they had all been basking in with his deep frowns and stern eyes.

Now, if anybody had asked Lance what he had thought of the Blade of the Marmora staying at the castle ship ever since Shiro had disappeared, he would have said he was fine and dandy with it; that they were hecka badass and cool and it was a pleasure. But in reality? Lance is very intimidated by them. If he was being honest, the only person that he thought that actually got along well with Kolivan and his band of merry man was Shiro.

"What are you all doing in here?" barks Kolivan. Well, he doesn't bark it out, but his gruff voice makes Lance feel like he should immediately snap up to perfect posture with his hand in a salute and chanting, "Sir, yes sir!"

Instead of doing that, Lance just detangles himself from the group hug and holds out his hand, hoping that Kolivan can see the his perfect red nails with the little flower designs that Pidge had added. "We're painting our nails!"

Kolivan's frown deepens, if that's possible. "Painting your nails?"

"We put paint on our nails." says Hunk. "Look, we're even matching?"

He lifts his hand, the one with the Voltron colors, and Lance shows his too.

"Does this contribute to your training?" asks Kolivan.

"Um," says Lance, waving his fingers a bit. "It makes you feel really cool. You should try it."

"We are not wasting our time to paint our nails so we can match." deadpans Kolivan.

"Well, sure." says Lance. "But don't come crawling back to me 'cause you refused to harness the power of friendship."

"Harnessing the power of friendship." repeats Kolivan with the most disinterested look on his face.

Pidge smiles a little. "Oh yeah, the power of friendship and love. If it worked for the Guardians of the Galaxy, it can work for us too."

"C'mon, Kolivan!" Lance waggles his eyebrows. "I can even do it in the Blade of Marmora colors, so you can all keep up the aesthetic!"

Kolivan sighs and shakes his head. "That won't be necessary."

After Kolivan leaves the room, they all look at each other and burst out laughing. Lance thinks this is the lightest he's felt in weeks.

-o-O-o-

They find Shiro.

It's on a warm night when they receive the distress call from a planet called X'halan. It's not too big of a threat, just some Galra occupying their luxite mines and refusing to leave. They don't even need their lions for this battle, so they head out into the X'halani mountains where the mines are, with only the night and surrounding nature to camouflage them.

It's still a hard fought battle, but they receive help from a nearby rebel group. Eventually, they get the Galra to surrender. Lance is absolutely drained by the time the firefight is finished, but Allura insists that they go give their thanks to the group that assisted them.

They're making their way across the field, and Lance is sure that it's the exhaustion messing with his brain, because he could have sworn that there was something familiar about the leader of the rebels coming at them, the way he kept on twisting a hand over his right arm or how his armor glows blue around the collar.

It's not until Keith screams "SHIRO!" and takes of running that Lance realizes that duh, he had looked like Shiro.

Holy shit it's Shiro. Black paladin armor and all.

Pidge gasps next to him, face lighting up like the firecrackers he and his cousins used to set off on the fourth of July. Allura has a little intake of breath as well and Hunk is already in tears, running after Keith.

"Guys? What's happening down there?" asks Coran in the comms.

"Shiro." says Lance softly. "We found him."

Pidge tugs at his sleeve and they take off running, Allura hot on their heels. Coran's still on the comms, questions full of confusion, but Lance ignores him in favor of shrieking,"SHIRO!" at the top of his lungs.

Hunk is hugging Shiro so tight and Keith is clutching his right shoulder like if he lets go, Shiro will disappear all over again and Lance thinks his heart is gonna burst as he tackles Shiro in a hug, ignoring his surprised "Oomph." Pidge is definitely crying and Allura doesn't seem like she can hold out much longer, judging by her sniffles and Lance would be lying right now if he said he wasn't tearing up just a little bit. They're messy and chaos, but for a moment, they're together and it's perfect.

-o-O-o-

They don't separate for a long time.

Shiro had broken down, which was concerning, to say the least. Seeing someone so dignified and refined crumble so easy was very distressing. They broke away immediately but Shiro had assured them with a watery laugh that it was fine. He had missed them too.

Lance likes to think that their second group hug would have been the most heartwarming thing anyone has ever seen, that even Lotor would melt from the feels, had it not been for Coran's incessant stream of questions over the comms. There's a lot of eye twitching, but they all collectively ignore it.

It's Shiro who breaks up the group hug, telling them that they should probably head back before Coran has an aneurysm.

The group agrees and they start the trek back to the castle, hanging close to Shiro. Lance can feel the little pieces of the puzzle that is Team Voltron snapping back into place.

Pidge is in the middle of reenacting Slav's modifications with the castle on the way back when Shiro squints at Lance's hand.

"Are you guys wearing . . . nail polish?" asks Shiro, his surprise evident in his tone.

Lance smiles, an actual genuine smile, and oh god, he's forgotten how much he had missed Shiro and the way their team - their family - had felt so complete with him.

"Yeah," says Lance, and his voice breaks a little out of the sheer emotions he's feeling. "Wanna match?"

Shiro smiles, and the tiredness in his face recedes a little. "I'd love to."

They all walk back to the Castle of Lions, taking their sweet time and relishing in the fact that they're back together and their family is complete again. Little smiles are shared between the six of them, and laughs spring up without any prompt, filling the night air.

Lance thinks that they're gonna be alright.

#space family #lance #voltron #voltron fic #scribble

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